Disclaimer: Nah.

A/N: Happy Birthday, Blue! This is so, so very late and not my greatest work, but I hope to make it up to you somehow later and I did want you to have this before June. Anyway, I hope you like it well enough. Enjoy the random OC's!

Marcus Gerth and Jed Fraley ride into Four Corners at dawn, tired and thirsty and covered in dust. Marcus isn't real pleased about that last one.

"My coat, Jed!" he complains.

Jed grins at him, teeth gleaming white against his dark skin. "You'll live," he says. Marcus makes a face at him and Jed only grins wider. They've been riding together too long for Jed to take Marcus seriously anymore, which is only a problem when Marcus wants to stop for a rest or eat something or do anything fun.

"Come on, kid," Jed says. "Saloon's over here if I recall correctly." Jed had passed through Four Corners a few years ago, after the end of the Civil War had freed his family from slavery and he had decided to see about finding land in the west. Judge Travers had directed him to a friend with the title office and the little farm Jed had bought with his small bit of Union army pay had grown into a small ranch; cattle bought and sold and bred carefully until he had a good amount of stock and needed a hand. He'd ridden into the town of Middle Stop alone one morning and returned with Marcus, just seventeen but a deft hand with horses and cattle alike. Anna and the kids found Jed's choice of ranch hand endlessly entertaining, readily adopting him, to Jed's relief.

Marcus obeys Jed's prompting and urges his horse toward the saloon. "Hope they have water," he grumbles.

Jed shakes his head. At some point, Marcus is going to have to just learn to drink like a normal person. "I'm sure they do," he soothes.

They enter the saloon and step up to the bar. There is water, but the pretty bartender, "Call me Inez," offers milk when Marcus says he doesn't drink, outrageously claiming that the sheriff of Four Corners doesn't drink liquor either.

Marcus turns to survey the saloon and spies a card table. He's about to start over when Jed's hand closes on his shirt collar and hauls him back. "I don't think so," Jed says.

"Aw, c'mon, Jed," Marcus complains.

"I ain't letting you get yourself in that kind of trouble," Jed says calmly.

"I won't!"

"Yeah, cuz I got ahold of you." Jed drags Marcus back to his stool at the bar and nods to Marcus' glass of milk. "Drink your cow juice."

Marcus grumbles into his milk and the saloon doors swing open.

The newcomer makes his way to the bar, receiving a small cup of the bitter beer Jed is drinking with a smile of thanks for the bartender. He turns and raises his glass to Jed, who returns the gesture and says, "Hello, friend."

"Hello," the man says. He nods to the table. "Y'all gonna play?"

Jed shakes his head before Marcus can say anything. "Nah. You?"

The man pauses, considering. "Yeah," he says. "Think I will." He finishes his drink and reaches over to shake Jed's hand. "Nathan," he introduces himself.

"Jed," he answers. "Marcus," he indicates the kid, who shakes Nathan's hand enthusiastically.

"Can I watch, Jed?" he asks, pup-like. Nathan grins at Jed's hesitation.

"He'll be fine," he says. "We'll keep an eye on him."

"We?" Jed says dubiously, but he lets Marcus go, watching from across the room. Nathan leads the way to the table and sits down across from the man who has been shuffling a deck of cards since they walked in. His coat is bright red, and a flash of gold appears in his mouth when he smiles.

"Ah, Mister Jackson, you deign to join us?" he drawls.

"I like to play, Ezra," Nathan retorts, something halfway between a smile and smirk. "Just not when you're causing trouble."

Ezra puts his hand to his chest as if offended. "Me?" he gasps.

A large group of men join the table before Nathan can reply, and Ezra begins dealing and welcoming the newcomers. "The game is five-card, gentlemen," he announces. "There will be no cheating, or the game is over."

Nathan sniggers and Marcus wonders if he missed the joke somehow.

They play and Ezra keeps up a running stream of jokes and chatter, entertaining the other players while somehow still controlling the game. He's winning. Nathan plays carefully, winning a few hands quietly, without the showmanship of Ezra's flashing grin and gliding hands.

Marcus sees the cheating almost the same instant Nathan does. "Hey," he says. Ezra shoots him a sharp look and he subsides.

Nathan is already saying, "There is no cheating at this table tonight." He glares at the huge man with the sticky finger, who is now blustering and accusing Nathan of looking at his cards.

Ezra slowly folds his hand and places it on the table. He looks annoyed. Marcus isn't sure it looks right on his face. "Gentlemen," he says, sounding like he doesn't mean it, "we appear to have a problem."

"Nah," the big man snarls. "Just this one. You ain't nothing to do with this."

"How rude," Ezra says, looking at Nathan, who is sort of grinning. "I believe my friend here has reminded you of the rules of the game for today."

The big man roars and Marcus nearly startles off of his perch behind Nathan's chair. "I WASN'T CHEATING!"

"And I say you were!" Nathan snaps. He's on his feet too, now, glaring into the broad, angry face. Marcus isn't surprised when Jed's hand clamps onto his upper arm. He's only surprised really that it took this long for Jed to come over here. He resists when Jed tries to pull him away and he can practically feel Jed's frustration.

"You're a cheater, Lem Howard!" Nathan insists. And that seems to be the breaking point for the man – Lem, apparently. He reaches under the table with one huge hand and flips the entire thing over, sending cards and chips and one of the other players flying.

Movement catches the corner of Marcus' eye as five more men suddenly seem to appear out of the shadows of the saloon. One of them, shorter than the rest and wearing a ridiculous hat, helps the hapless poker player to his feet and escorts him out of danger. Jed's grip tightens on Marcus' arm and he knows that if he doesn't dig his heels in the same will happen to him. No way is he missing whatever is about to happen now, though. He hooks his ankles under the wooden beam he's sitting on.

"You're making a scene, Howard," Ezra says. "Settle down."

Howard starts yelling again, threatening increasingly disturbing bodily harm to both Nathan and Ezra.

"Should we do something?" Marcus asks Jed uneasily. Jed looks like he wants to cuff Marcus just for asking.

"Nah," someone drawls lazily from Jed's left. "Nate an' Ez are just scammin'."

Jed's eyes narrow in consternation. "What do you mean, 'scamming'?"

The big man's mustache shifts as he grins. "That's Lem Howard. Nate and Ezra have been planning this for a while now."

"We're not from around here," Jed tells him, easing his grip on Marcus' shirt collar just a smidgen.

The man holds out his hand for them to shake. "Names Buck," he says. "An' Lem Howard is a sorry excuse for a man who deserves way worse than what's comin' to him."

Jed and Marcus look at each other and Marcus is a little surprised to realize that Jed is making a face at him. Usually he's way too serious for that stuff.

"Howard's little lady," Buck explains, " –mighty fine woman she is too –she came into the general store a few days back lookin' like she'd been drug behind her wagon a ways." Buck gestures to his own eye, "This all red an' purple." His voice is still casual, but his eyes are hard.

"Ez was in the store at the time an' while she's goin' on about how it ain't all that bad and it's mostly her fault, he tries to suggest that she let us – us bein' the law around here – let us do somethin' about ol' Howard. But she goes on how she needs him, how she don't have nowhere else to go." Buck looks like he wants to spit, but refrains for the sake of Inez's floor. "So Ez and Nathan there cooked up this li'l scheme," he continues. "If they can get Howard to do somethin' real stupid – somethin' like, say, tryin' to seriously injure someone in a bar fight – then we can lock him up for a while. Maybe a long while. And then Molly can figure out how she's gonna live without him. If we play our cards right," he winks, "maybe we can even swing it so she'll get to stay on the farm and he'll be the one leaving."

Jed squints. "Sounds complicated," he says. "Doesn't sound like there's much to it."

Buck smirks and shrugs. "The original plan was to conk him over the head in the street and drag him out to the desert an' leave him there for the buzzards and the rattlesnakes, but Chris heard about it an' started shoutin' about murder and the law or some claptrap, so Ez came up with a different plan. And then Chris said no to that one because Ezra suggested we take all his money at the card table an' then turn around an' give it to Molly, an' then take Howard out to the desert. That one wasn't so bad actually, but Chris shot it down on principle 'cause it's Ezra."

Marcus is getting a mite dizzy.

"So then, Nathan says he's got an idea, and, well, here we are." Buck nods cheerfully. "Subtle enough for Chris and fancy enough for Ezra. A win for everyone. Except Howard," he adds.

"Doesn't seem like it would work!" Marcus pipes up. There's no way this crazy scheme will actually work out the way they want it to.

Buck grins at him again. "Oh, it's working," he says. He nods over to where Ezra appears to be trying to soothe Howard, which seems counterproductive until Marcus sees that Howard's face just keeps getting redder and redder. "Ez is real good at annoyin' people."

"I believe it," Jed murmurs. He looks sort of impressed. Marcus has never seen Jed look impressed by anything, except that time his daughter Susannah had made a perfect strawberry pie.

"Howard attacks 'em now, while Judge Travis is away, an' he'll be cooling his heels in a cell for a few nights," Buck says, dripping satisfaction. "An' meanwhile, Vin is working on Molly to admit that it's Howard that's roughin' her up. She – whoa!"

Buck shouts as Howard apparently has enough and swings for Nathan with a loud roar of frustration. Marcus half expects him to duck – the punch is so obvious in coming – but Nathan just stands there, grimacing, and waits for the blow to land.

It doesn't. Ezra steps in between the two men and takes Howard's fist right on the jaw. He rocks back into Nathan and then lunges forward. Howard goes rolling, pummeling every part of Ezra he can reach. Buck looks like he's straining, holding back through sheer force of will. "Come on, Nathan," he grumbles softly, not taking his eyes off of Ezra's – suddenly small – form under Howard's.

"Now!" Nathan yells, jumping forward to catch Howard as he stumbles back, holding his jaw. Ezra is finally fighting back.

Marcus jumps and almost falls off his perch as the men from each corner of the room surge forward into the fight. It doesn't take all of them. Howard goes down under a burly man in a huge hat who grins a terrifying smile and says, "Woe to the wicked! It will go badly with him, for what he deserves will be done to him." He sits on Howard's back and says, "Someone check on that boy, would you? He's lost about whatever brain he has."

Marcus is confused for a moment, because he hadn't even been in the fight, and then realizes that the big man is talking about Ezra. He's a little offended on behalf of the fancy man, who Marcus actually thinks is rather clever, but Ezra is already groaning a protest of his own.

"I take offense to your imprecations, Mister Sanchez." He presses one hand to his chest, probably trying to look outraged, but mostly looking like he's struggling to breathe.

"His what?" one of the other men mutters, buckskin tassels swinging by his shoulders. Buck laughs and claps him on the back, whispering something in his ear.

"You're an idiot," Nathan tells Ezra, kneeling beside him in the wreckage of the chairs Howard had smashed.

"And what evidence do you have of that, Mister Jackson?" Ezra gets out between labored breaths. Nathan gently feels around his chest for cracked ribs, frowning when he finds two.

"You shouldn't have jumped in," he scolds. Ezra lets Nathan brace him as they prepare to stand. "It was my plan. We agreed I'd take the hit for it."

"Yes, well. I had only just realized something inherently flawed about that plan," Ezra mutters.

"And what was that?" Nathan asks patiently.

Ezra smiles, pained and small, but there. "My dear Mister Jackson, if I were to let you be as badly injured as I am now, then who would we have to be competent in patching you up?"

Flabbergasted, Nathan stares at him. "You're a fool, Ezra Standish," he says finally, but he's smiling too. Marcus does not understand this conversation at all. Said fool chuckles a little and then groans again. Hastily, Nathan beckons to the buckskin man. "Vin, help me get him up the stairs." Vin ambles forward and grasps Ezra under the arm.

"Good move, Ez," he drawls. "I don't reckon any of us would last very long with Nate bein' the one laid up."

"My thoughts exactly, Mister Tanner," Ezra gasps. Nathan rolls his eyes and says something snippy under his breath. Ezra responds sharply and they both bicker their way up the stairs.

"Buck," the man sitting on Howard says calmly, "would you mind finding Chris and letting him know we've taken care of this little problem?" Howard shifts and growls and the man thumps him on the head smartly.

Buck groans. "Aw, Josiah, why do I haveta tell Chris?"

"He's your best friend," Josiah points out.

The boy with the ridiculous hat pipes up, "Yeah, Buck, he'll take it better from you."

Buck rolls his eyes. "You an' I both know that ain't true, J.D." He sighs and throws up his hands. "Aw, fine. I'll tell him. You two get Howard down to the jail."

"Done." Josiah stands and gathers Howard's arms behind him in a tight grip at the same time. "Let's go." He shoves the other man a bit harder than necessary. "And while we're walking, let's have a chat about what the good Lord has to say about abusing your wife." He and J.D. march the hapless Howard out of the saloon and into the town, leaving the room full of smashed chairs and overturned tables. Buck glances over to Inez at the bar and winces.

"We'll clean it all up," he calls. She glares.

"You had better!"

Buck shakes his head sheepishly and then gives Marcus a beaming grin. "Told ya it would work!"

Marcus still can't really believe that it did. "Yeah, but… how?" he wonders. Buck cackles.

"That's Ezra and Nathan for ya! Poor old Howard never stood a chance."

Marcus chances a glance over at Jed, who looks a bit shocked. "Is it always this… exciting around here?" he asks, raising disapproving eyebrows.

Buck nods thoughtfully. "We've got some quiet weeks," he says. "Sometimes there's just cattle rustlers an' we don't even have to shoot 'em. But usually…" he trails off, smirking.

Jed shakes his head. "In that case, I think we won't be coming back for awhile."

"Aw, Jed," Marcus protests, but Buck just laughs.

"Fair enough," he says, reaching out a hand and shaking Jed's. "But if you do come back, make sure an' catch us while you're here. Don't be strangers."

"We can't be any stranger than this," Jed retorts. He's smiling. He's let go of Marcus' collar finally, so he slips off the beam he's been clinging to all this time and stands next to his boss, his mentor and friend. Jed looks down at him and shakes his head. "I think we ought to start heading back," he says. "Anna will be worried if we don't make it by noon tomorrow."

Marcus shakes Buck's hand too and says, glancing towards the stairs, "Tell Mister Ezra and Mister Nathan that I think they're real smart," he says. "Please."

Buck's eyes crinkle kindly when he smiles. "Will do," he says.

On their way out of town, Marcus looks over at Jed and says, "Are we really not coming back?"

Jed looks at the horizon, squinting against the glare of the sun and sighs. "Maybe in a month or two." And Marcus grins, because Jed is a big ol' softy sometimes.

"Sounds good," he says, and then they ride, leaving Four Corners, seven men, and one very irate saloon keeper behind.

A/N: It's just not really a Mag7 fic if Ezra doesn't end up cracked in the head at some point, right? Also, so far, every Mag7 fic I've written has included a bar fight because that's apparently who I am as a person.

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