RATING: PG-13 for some rough language
CATEGORY: Challenge - Old West - South Bridge Series
MAJOR CHARACTERS: Ezra and Josiah
DISCLAIMERS: This is fanfiction. No profit involved. This story is based on the television series "The Magnificent Seven". No infringement upon the copyrights held by CBS, MGM, Trilogy Entertainment Group, The Mirisch Corp. or any others involved with that production is intended.
NOTE: answers two challenges! February 2006 Challenge (the Challenge of Forgetting) offered by the wonderful TwylaJane A theme fic is what is desired. Forgetfulness. Mentally preoccupied with things other than the tasks at hand. Mind you there must be consequences whether large or small. Can anything from drama to humor. Any AU that is open. And... The January 2006 Challenge (the Reflection Challenge) - offered by the wonderful AngelaB Pick an AU (one you have permission to write in) and a character (or all of them). Have them reflect on the worse thing that went wrong in the previous year (with all the reference to the previous years South Bridge adventures, I figured this filled this challenge as well - and South Bridge is almost an AU...)
SUMMARY: It's a South Bridge story! Josiah forgets a package that he was supposed to pick up for Ezra. Ezra leaves to pick it up on his own and doesn't return. Oh, and Miguel Garcia (Josiah's son from "Someone Else's Son")
DATE: Originally posted September 17, 2013

Somehow I Know
By NotTasha

PART 1:

PART 1:

"Looks like he's coming back," Nathan said as he leaned against the balcony of his clinic.

Ezra, relaxing in the rocking chair, sat forward and looked out at the horseman moving through the dust. "Ah yes, recognizable at any distance! Excellent!" He stood, and straightened his jacket. "Mr. Jackson, I've enjoyed your company this morning, but he has something I want, so I will bid you adieu." And with that, he clattered down the stairway.

Nathan followed, and together they waited at the entrance to the livery. Ezra checked his pocket watch and bounced a little as the horse approached. Nathan kept his gaze on Josiah.

There was something about the preacher's stance, something wasn't quite right. Jackson searched for signs of a hurt, but the man seemed well enough in body. He couldn't be sure of his soul.

"Ezra…" Nathan started in a low voice, as Sanchez came in, "you'd best give him some room."

"Mr. Sanchez," Standish greeted blithely. "So very glad to have you home. Now, if you have it ready, I'll take my package. Thank you ever so kindly." And he held out his hand.

Josiah sat stiffly in his saddle, staring into the dimness of the stable. "Not now," he grunted.

"Oh," Ezra responded, stepping back a half step. "Of course, you need a moment to see to your horse and what not. If you just point me to the right saddlebag, I can retrieve it myself." His gaze racked the saddle. "You did pick it up, didn't you?"

Josiah didn't answer. Rather, he swung himself from down the Prophet, brushing Ezra further back in the process. "Forget about it, Ezra."

Ezra stumbled out of the way. "Surely, you have it," he continued and laughed lightly. "You're teasing me."

"Ezra," Nathan said again, pressing a hand on the gambler's shoulder, and pulling him further away. Standish shot him an unhappy look at being jostled again.

"I don't have anything for you," Josiah responded bluntly.

"Josiah," Ezra persisted, "You promised …" he lingered on the word a moment, licked his lips and started again. "You promised me that you would stop at the Twice-Shy Saloon in Red Rock on your return journey from Clarkston. You assured me that you would be able to retrieve a package for me."

"I didn't," Josiah told him sharply. "I didn't have time for it."

"No time?" Ezra responded incredulously. "It's before noon. You were passing through Red Rock. Surely, you had time for one quick stop and enjoy a drink or two? There's only one saloon in Red Rock, after all."

Josiah gave Ezra a dark look.

"Josiah," Nathan put in, studying his friend. "You alright?"

"Fine!" Josiah spat out. "I'm fine, Nathan."

And Nathan closed his eyes, recognizing the slur of words and the smell of alcohol. Anger radiated off the man.

Ezra hadn't heeded the warnings. "Did you forget?" he persisted. "Maybe old age and a low tolerance for alcohol has caught up with you at last?"

With that, Josiah rounded on Ezra, his fist drawn back, and only Nathan's quick shove kept Standish from harm, Ezra stumbled at this latest rebuke and fell hard on his butt.

"Josiah," Nathan said softly, urgently, "Calm down!"

Josiah breathed heavily, the whiskey evident. Damn, Nathan thought. He knew that Ezra loved to antagonize the older man, but he was poking a hornets' nest now. He furrowed his brow, watching the look that Josiah fixed on Ezra.

Ezra jumped to his feet, slapping at his pants and jacket and shouting, "Now see here! I will not be treated this way!"

"Just send your package on the next freight wagon," the healer told Ezra.

Standish did not look pleased. "Oh, I would've if Josiah hadn't already promised that it 'wouldn't be a problem'. Look there," and he pointed to the dust cloud that was approaching town from the same road that Josiah had used. "The freight wagon is coming now and won't be through again for another week."

Sanchez gazed at Standish through red-rimmed, unfocused eyes and mumbled, "I had better things that needed doing."

Ezra set his shoulders as he said petulantly, "I wish you would've let me know earlier that you had no plans to assist me, old man. The freight wagon is inconsistent, but at least it arrives with what was promised, and doesn't try to assault me."

"Always tryin' to take advantage of people," Josiah said in a low voice. "Just tryin' to make me hop for you."

"Now, Josiah," Nathan tried to soothe.

"Should never have counted on you," Ezra said as he moved into the livery. "Somehow, I should have known this would happen."

Josiah continued to lean against the outside wall as Nathan kept close watch on him. Something was clearly bothering Sanchez, something more the drink, something directed at Ezra. Maybe it was best that Standish put some space between them.

Ezra paused as he rode Chaucer through the doorway. "I'll be back before sundown," Ezra told Jackson. "I've promised Mr. Dunne that I'd meet him and Buck for dinner. For some reason they think I should pay." He sighed theatrically. "It was a lousy turn of cards."

"Ezra…" Nathan said. "He didn't mean to forget it. You know that." Jackson didn't understand what was troubling his friend, but he'd get to the bottom of it. He could, at least, reason with Ezra at that moment. "Just, go easy on him, okay?" He glanced to Ezra, but returned his gaze to Josiah, who glowered at the other man.

"I need to go easy?" Ezra repeated, his voice even. "When has anyone ever gone easy on me?" He lifted a hand toward Josiah. "Every time I have gone to him for help, for favor, for advice, it comes back to bite me."

"You're leaving?" Josiah said, his voice low and ominous. "Then get out!"

Ezra closed his eyes a moment and then looked toward Nathan, touching the brim of his hat. With an easy movement, he directed Chaucer out of town.

"Come on, Josiah," Nathan said tiredly, once Ezra was away. He forced a shoulder under his friend's arm. "We need to get you to bed before you cause any more damage. I'll see to Prophet when I get you settled."

As he muscled Josiah toward the church, Nathan watched Ezra. The gambler paused his horse by the freight wagon when he reached it. He spoke briefly to the driver, probably checking to ensure that his package wasn't included in the load. The driver talked, and Ezra gazed back at them.

And after a moment, Ezra turned and continued to Red Rock.

-{[(777)]}-

The voices were muffled. The room was dark.

"He ain't back yet?"

"Nope, not yet."

"He was supposed to meet up with Buck and JD for dinner."

"He'll get caught up in a game of poker sometimes. Loses track of time."

"Yeah, that explains it."

Josiah rolled over slowly, finding himself in his own room. The voices came in through the door to the church. He felt sticky and tired and sick and miserable and in desperate need of a drink. He sat up and then tried to stand, but his balance left him and he fell against a bedside chair.

"Josiah?" the door opened quickly and Nathan peeked in with a lantern. "You okay?"

Josiah swallowed and nodded.

The door opened wider to reveal Chris standing beside Nathan. "What you been up to, Preacher Man?" Larabee asked.

Josiah grimaced as he stood carefully. "Nothin' good," he responded. He made his way to the door, and the others backed away as he shuffled into the church.

"How did things go in Clarkston?" Chris asked.

"Fine," Josiah responded. "No trouble."

"What happened, then?" Nathan asked gently. "You don't get like this unless…well, unless something happens."

With a groan and a sigh, Josiah lowered himself to one of the church pews and buried his head in his hands. "I need a drink," he mumbled.

Nathan sighed. "Maybe, you can tell us what went on first."

"I received some news. That's all." Josiah rubbed his face dolefully, wanting to be left alone. He could hear Nathan moving about. He looked up to see the healer at the stove, stoking a smoldering fire. Josiah's hands stayed on his face, wanting to rub away the ache in his head, wishing he could wipe it all away.

"Why're you here?" Josiah asked.

Nathan said, "I was just stopping by to check on you. Chris figured he'd come along to check on Clarkston. I was worried about how you were acting. You were pretty rough on Ezra."

Josiah grimaced.

"What was this news?" Chris put in. "Anything I need to worry about?"

With a long sigh, Josiah decided he'd better say something. "You know about my son…" he started.

"Miguel," Chris quickly replied. "He almost killed Ezra last time you met up."

"I told you he shot at Ezra only because Ezra shot at him." Josiah had replayed that moment often in his head, trying to remember it all correctly. He'd startled Miguel, letting it slip that they were lawmen, and then moved too quickly. Miguel had drawn on them, and Ezra shot first, hitting Miguel in the arm. Miguel responded, hitting Ezra low on his torso – carving a gouge above his hip. Neither wound was fatal. Both had shot in self-defense, and – in the end – Josiah was at fault for having startled his son.

Then Nathan reminded, "Garcia tossed his own baby child into the Banyon River."

"Miguel didn't mean to," Josiah said softly, watching as Nathan poked at the fire. "When he's drunk he doesn't… " and he stopped talking, remembering how the child had been accidentally dropped, and how Ezra dove in after. Josiah recalled how he'd chased the river, how he found them, and how he searched for Ezra after the child had been safely retrieved.

And then he'd fled – disappeared, leaving a hole in Josiah's soul. Was his son really a detestable man or was it all a misunderstanding?

Chris pulled a cheroot from his pocket. "Is Miguel still in Mexico?" He question hung in the dim room, as if Chris already knew what the answer would be.

Josiah pulled his hands from his face and stared off into a dark corner behind the pulpit. "I was in Red Rock, on my way home, when I saw their newspaper. It had a story about him," he said in a quiet voice. "Mentioned that he'd been seen in the area."

Nathan settled a kettle on the stove and exchanged a look with Chris.

"In what area?" Chris asked. "Red Rock?"

"Near Skunkwater," Josiah said quietly.

Chris made a disgusted sound, and leaned close to the stove to light his cigar. Nobody spoke for several moments as he puffed to get the cheroot started.

Finally, Larabee asked, "Is he going to give us any trouble?"

Josiah responded, "I think he's trying to lay low and avoid getting locked up. He knows that we're lawmen here. I think he'll stay away." He'd been accused of killing two men in South Bridge, Mr. Watkins, and then Sheriff Hughes in his escape. If he was caught, there'd be a good chance that he'd hang.

"Do you want to see him?" Nathan asked.

Josiah blew out a breath, and muttered, "He's my flesh-and-blood. A father yearns for his own sometimes." And he looked to Chris.

Chris said nothing as he worked the cigar in the corner of his mouth.

"And my grandson…" Josiah added, and something in his attitude changed – an anger crossed over him. "…I need to see my grandson again."

Nobody spoke for several moments.

Finally, Nathan stated, "Miguel's out there? And Ezra hasn't returned. I don't like that."

Josiah insisted, "Miguel doesn't wants anything to do with us. There's no reason for him to go after Ezra. He didn't want Ezra along the first time."

Chris shook his head, and stood. "I'll talk to Winston in the morning. Have him send a wire. See what they say in Red Rock."

Josiah just sunk into the pew as the water on the stove started to boil, and Chris went out the door.

-{[(777)]}-

The story in the Red Rock newspaper had shocked Josiah. It mentioned that Miguel had been spotted near Skunkwater. The townsfolk thought he was in the nearby caves. It detailed the murders in South Bridge from years ago, talked about the other possible murder from years earlier. It described Miguel in detail, also mentioning that his Swedish wife was with him – the one who'd helped him escape before. Nothing was noted regarding their son Per, who would be 4 or 5 years old now.

When he read the story, Josiah's first thoughts were of Per. How he longed to hold his grandson again. He had often recalled those moments, when the pretty boy had played in his lap. He was so perfect!

And a year ago, when hope returned – burning like a brand – when he thought he'd found little Per, adopted by the Henson family near South Bridge. But Ezra had convinced him that child wasn't his… wasn't Miguel and Kerstin's.

Josiah still dreamed, wondering and wishing that little Caleb Henson was his grandson. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized it was possible that Ezra had led him astray. Josiah had been so sure that the foundling Caleb had been his Per. It was Ezra that dissuaded him so convincingly, saying that Kerstin would never leave her child. And yet, Miguel and Kerstin were back and there was no mention of their son –

Had Ezra tricked him into leaving his child with the Hensons? Hadn't Ezra said that a child might be better off with adopted parents? Standish might've had difficult relationships with his own parents, but it gave him no right to con anyone out of their own grandchild.

Damn him! Damn that self-serving con artist! Always trying to bend people to do his will!

Standish had ruined Josiah's chance at being a grandfather.

So many thoughts had rushed through Josiah's head when he read the newspaper story. He should have gone to Skunkwater to find Miguel, to see if Per was with him. Instead – he drank, and then, just went home.

Josiah looked up when Nathan pressed a coffee mug into his hand. Nathan joined him on the pew with his own mug and they sat in companionable silence.

Nathan was his closest friend. Chris – was his leader. He'd never expected to need one in his life, but the man gave him confidence and a reason to get up every morning. Vin had such a rich and deep soul – Josiah appreciated being in his presence. Buck was loyal and vital and amazing story teller. JD's youthful exuberance was a joy to behold. Ezra – well, Ezra…

There were so many times that Ezra had given him grief. Standish seemed bent on saying the exact words that'd get his blood boiling - casual, flippant, irascible, irritating, untruthful…

And there was the other kind of grief – like the time Ezra had led the Holloway boys on a merry goose chase away from a wounded JD, letting everyone think he'd died in the process. And there was the time Ezra had been hit on the head and wouldn't wake up, back when they were somewhere in-between here and South Bridge. And when he'd almost drowned in the Banyon River, saving little Per, and again into the Banyon to save a young man who'd fallen in at an ill-conceived river crossing.

Josiah could never figure out Standish. He was a gadfly, a goad, always tipping toward the night in his ways, but somehow ending up on the side of angels.

And now… now he'd allowed Ezra to leave for Red Rock alone, not telling him that Miguel was out there.

Josiah couldn't kid himself. His head was clearer now, and he knew that if those two crossed paths, it would not end well. And Ezra hadn't returned before sundown – as he had promised.

Damn, what'd happened to him?

Josiah lowered his head, feeling ashamed. "I forgot," he said quietly.

"Hmm?" Nathan responded, not ready for words at that moment.

"I forgot. Even before I read the story in the newspaper. Even before I started drinking," Josiah sighed. "I'd forgotten that I'd promised Ezra that I'd pick up that package in Red Rock. It wasn't even that I was angry with him then. I just… forgot."

"Angry?" Nathan asked. "Why were you angry at Ezra?"

Josiah shook his head sharply, not wanting to get into the reason why.

Nathan said, "It's nothing, Josiah. People forget things, and others should forgive. Ezra probably ashamed of being so upset about it now."

"I promised him I'd do a simple favor. It was such a small thing. It just slipped my mind when the time came. Then I talked to him like that."

"He'll get over it."

"He should've returned by now."

"He'll be back in the morning… or rather the late afternoon – what was I thinking?" and Nathan chuckled lightly, but when Josiah looked at him, Sanchez saw a tightness in his friend's expression. Nathan was worried.

And Josiah let out a low breath. "I should have told him…"

-{[(777)]}-

With dawn, Josiah and Nathan met up with Chris at the jail, and waited. When the telegraph operator's youngest child rushed in, they were all on their feet in an instant.

The girl shyly held up the telegram and handed it to Chris. She whipped around and was out of the jail like a shot.

"What's it say?" Nathan asked urgently

Josiah waited, somehow he knew what the note would say – because that's how things worked for him.

Chris scowled as he read and then stated, "He wasn't seen in Red Rock yesterday." He looked up at the others. "His package hasn't been picked up."

"I'll get the boys," Nathan stated and headed to the door, mumbling, "And then I'll stop by the clinic for supplies."

Chris stared at Josiah as they stood waiting for the others. "You didn't tell him about Garcia," Larabee stated flatly, not really a question.

"I didn't," Josiah responded. "I forgot."

Chris didn't drop his steel gaze for several moments, until Josiah dropped his and moved toward the door. Once on the boardwalk, he made his way toward the livery.

"Wait for the rest of us, Josiah," Larabee said, with a threat in his voice.

"You can't hold me," Josiah responded without stopping.

Chris watched him go, watched him enter the livery at a quick clip, and leave on Prophet shortly afterward.

He turned toward his room to get what he needed for the journey.

-{[(777)]}-

Ezra awoke slowly, drawn out by pain.

His head banged mercilessly. His stomach ached, and his whole body felt weak and abused. Something sticky coated the back of his head most uncomfortably.

His cheek jostled against something warm. His arms hung. He felt folded. He was moving, moving constantly. He breathed in horse and leather. He heard the movement of hooves and the jangle of a bridle.

Every movement hurt.

'Why? What?'

God, he was going to be sick. He swallowed dryly.

'What happened? Why? How…'

Darkness swam. Slowly, he opened his eyes. Eyelashes fluttered and he felt the stab of light hit his brain. God!

He saw the brown curve of an equine side, a saddle, and below him, dirt and rock. He swallowed again, not wanting to vomit. Knowing he probably would.

'Why? What? 'Where?'

He had no idea, no thought, just the ache and the pain and no memories to tell him what had happened, and nobody who would explain it to him.

The horse took a small leap, and pain jolted through him. He gasped and fell back into blackness.

Someone laughed.

TBC