RATING: PG 13 for some rather rough language
CATEGORY: OW - Action/Adventure
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.
SUMMARY: Ezra and Josiah head home after spending a couple days in South Bridge. Nothing but trouble follows
DATE: Originally posted January 23, 2001

Somewhere In-Between
By NotTasha

PART 1:

Josiah Sanchez wanted to die. His head ached, throbbing to an uncanny beat. His mouth felt pasty and dry. His stomach roiled and bubbled and wanted to leave his body by the quickest route available. His hands ached. He felt like hell. He knew the feeling. He was familiar with it. Not again.

He turned his head and heard the crackle of leaves beneath him, felt a cool breeze pass over his face. Outside, he thought. How'd I get outside? He squeezed his eyes shut against the brightness of the sun and groaned. Not again.

He remembered bits and pieces of what had happened. Yesterday. Was it yesterday? It had started off pleasantly enough. He recalled Miss Laurel Lamar and how she had smiled at him. She'd been pretty and young, with long auburn hair tied up in a loose bun. She'd paid attention to him, as old as he was. She'd leaned over him, running her hands along his arm. He'd bought drinks for her and had charmed her. She'd nodded and encouraged him to speak, lingered on his words. She had sat beside him with her sweet smell and coy glances, and made him feel important. He remembered how she had turned her head when she saw a man in an expensive suit walk past. He remembered how she had left him to follow the well-off gray-haired man.

The drinking had started after that, started in earnest.

Sometime during the night he had tried to find Miss Laurel. He remembered calling for her in the streets, tracking her down to her home. Two houses, side by side - two men with reddish hair. A blur of fists, blood.

And after that there had been more drinking.

Josiah flexed his hand, feeling the bruises and scrapes. He remembered more fighting and things being smashed. Glass had been shattered - a mirror?

And then there had been more drinking. After that - a haze.

Not again, Josiah thought again and moaned out his misery into the pile of leaves that was his bed. His battered hand clasped onto a blanket and pulled it close to him.

"If you plan to disgorge the contents of your stomach," a voice drawled near him, "I would prefer that you do it away from my blanket."

Josiah blinked and looked toward the voice. Ezra Standish came into focus, relaxing beside a merry little fire. He leaned against a tree and held a book in his hands as he glanced back at Josiah.

"Ezra," Josiah muttered. Where did he come from?

"Saints be praised!" Ezra cried, sitting up and shoving the book into his pocket. "He's one of the living again!"

Ezra's shout echoed through his head. Josiah lurched forward, trying to sit up. His stomach rolled and turned.

Ezra laughed. "You're looking a peculiar shade of green."

"Shut up, Ezra," Josiah grumbled. He felt it coming and knew there was no way to stop it.

"The blanket!" Ezra cried urgently, and Josiah tossed away the covering before his attempt to keep back the tide failed, and he vomited into the leaves.

Ezra was up in a flash. He snatched up the blanket and shook it out as he walked away. His nose was scrunched up in disgust as Josiah continued retching. Finally, his stomach empty, Sanchez sat back, exhausted. He humbly scooped the leaves into a pile to cover up his illness.

A cup of water and a wet rag appeared in front of his face.

"Finished?"

Josiah nodded numbly and mumbled as he got to his feet and moved away from the leaves and the disgusting mess. He took a mouthful of water and spat it out, and then wiped off his face with the rag. He felt miserable…absolutely and totally miserable.

Ezra returned to the fire and picked up the coffeepot that rested beside it. He poured himself a cup. "I hope that you're feeling better soon, because it's high-time we departed."

Josiah glanced around, taking in their surroundings. They were in the middle of nowhere, as far as he could tell. Here and there a few stunted trees grew out of the sandy soil. There were rocks and thorny bushes and wide-open nothingness. How had he - he and Ezra - ended up here?

Josiah found a comfortable seat on a rock. "What happened?" he asked with a sigh, rubbing his aching head. "I remember bein' in South Bridge. We had gone there for…?" He trailed off as his mind refused to offer up that bit of information.

"Mr. Larabee saw fit to assign us the job of delivery boys. We brought an urgent package to their doctor."

Josiah nodded. Yes, he could remember that now. "Doc Meer. Went to the saloon after that. I remember a woman, and I believe I may have fought a few folk and maybe busted up a saloon."

Ezra grinned widely. "Yes, that would be a fine summation, my friend." He poured coffee into another mug and handed it to Sanchez, saying, "You were quite the spectacle. I believe that your visit to their fair town will be remembered for generations to come."

"Just tell me what happened," Josiah groaned. He eyed the coffee, wondering if it was such a good idea to try it just yet. He set it down by his feet.

"Well," Ezra rubbed his thumb across his bottom lip. "As I observed it, Miss Lamar denied your advances as she set her sights on a more lucrative quarry."

Josiah frowned, recalling that Ezra had been in the saloon at the time. He had thought the gambler was too involved in his game to take notice of him. "I remember that much. I went to her home."

"That you did, and roused her brothers. It seems that she lives with one of them - the other is a neighbor. They're a tight knit family and didn't cotton to your boisterous salutation. They set upon you to drive you off. You saw fit to meet them and challenge them. It was an extraordinary row. Her brothers were earnest, but no match to your skill. They're bein' seen to by Doc Meer."

"Good God," Josiah pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Did I hurt them badly?"

"Bruises and such. Nothing that a good night's rest won't solve." Ezra handed him some bread that had been toasted at the fire and then sat down. "You proceeded to the saloon to celebrate your victory." Ezra cocked his head and added, "Her brothers' friends found you there."

"Yeah, I remember some of that."

"It was quite a disturbance. Tables were flyin', chairs upturned, a rather large mirror was smashed." Ezra tsked and shook his head. "Bad luck, don't you know. The fight continued until the law arrived. They wanted you jailed. You had other plans."

"What'd I do?"

"You departed."

Josiah watched as Ezra sipped at his coffee. "How many got hurt?"

"Well, including the two brothers, three of their friends, and a deputy..." Ezra set down his mug to count on his fingers. "...that would be six."

"How'd I get away?"

"The esteemed lawmen had you trapped on the boardwalk when the sheep escaped."

"What? Sheep?"

"Somehow an entire pen of the creatures saw fit to affect their emancipation. They bolted through the town, mowing down the sheriff just as he was about to lay hands on you. They upset an apple cart and managed to create an escape route. The sheep made an incredible racket. The sheer intensity of the 'baa-ing' was ...well...impossible to forget." He raised his eyes to meet Josiah's. "Unless of course..." he paused and smiled,"...you senses were otherwise deficient at the moment."

Ezra picked up his mug again. "It was at about that time that the awning over the Lucky Saloon collapsed, thus entrapping the sheriff and two of his deputies."

"Anything else?"

"You tried to steal a darling little carriage. I remember my Mother owned a similar one years ago. Yours was quite a delicate, feminine thing - fringe on the top - little bells on the horse's harness - bedecked in pink ribbons - precious. You were barely able to squeeze yourself into the seat."

Josiah groaned.

"You spent so much time fussing with the collapsible top that they almost had you again." Ezra twitched the mug in his hand and watched the liquid within swirl about. "Really, Mr. Sanchez, you must first push up and then back."

Josiah glared at Standish, who continued to grin at him, heedless of Sanchez' building headache.

"If it hadn't been for the flood…" Ezra continued.

"Flood? The river? Did the levy fail?"

Ezra scoffed. "The levy remains un-breached, thank goodness. It seems that the valve on the water tower chose that very moment to fail. Nearly drowned one of the shorter shopkeepers, and, I'm afraid, drove the ovine escapees to near panic. You were thrown from the carriage when Pretty Boy bolted."

Josiah furrowed his brow. "Is there anything left of South Bridge?"

"Nothing save for a few water-logged sheep, a somewhat hapless Lucky Saloon and a topless cabriolet."

Josiah rubbed his head. "Funny set of things to happen."

"I'd chalk it up to shoddy workmanship."

Josiah glanced back at Ezra and finally smiled, trying to imagine Ezra shooing the sheep from the pen, dislodging the awning and then attacking the water tower. Josiah ate his toast in silence, finding that it settled his stomach. He tried the coffee and found it acceptable.

"Where are we?" he asked, once he had finished his simple meal.

Ezra looked around as if he were considering this for the first time. "Somewhere in-between South Bridge and Four Corners, and a good deal off the usual route. Which is probably for the best. Perhaps we should stray from the main avenues for the time-bein'."

"How'd we end up here?" Josiah asked after a moment.

Ezra nodded to their mounts; Chaucer and Prophet waited under a nearby tree. "You somehow managed to saddle your horse in the confusion and lit out of town at a fair pace. It was all I could do to keep up. I kept my distance, mind you. Nobody needs to tell Maude's only son to stay out of the way of a drunken maniac. I waited until you collapsed into an insensible heap before I dared approach."

Josiah glanced about at the little camp, the fire, the meager equipment, and the blanket that was now folded beside Standish. Everything here was Ezra's.

"What happened to my saddlebags?" Josiah asked.

Ezra shrugged. "I suspect the mob has laid hold of them by now. I wasn't about to risk my life to retrieve your cheap tin-ware and over-worn bedroll." Ezra finished his cup and then picked up the pot, tossing the remaining coffee onto the fire, extinguishing it. "It's time we were on our way. The rabble may be wise to our location. We're not so far out of town that we're safe from their attack, and you did nothing to hide your trail. I, myself, did what I could, but it was a losing battle."

Josiah nodded, rubbing his forehead.

"Seein' as how I was the one who set up the camp…" Ezra started, with a nod to Sanchez.

Josiah chuckled lightly. Despite his sour stomach and his pounding head, he could manage to pick up the few things that made up their camp. "Sure, Ezra. I wouldn't want you to tax yourself."

"Lord no," Ezra responded.

PART 2:

The two men rode side by side through the late morning. Josiah kept his eyes on the horizon, concentrating on keeping his stomach still and ignoring the relentless throbbing in his temples.

Prophet appeared to understand his rider's condition and moved along at an easy gait. Chaucer, on the other hand, seemed determined to break Prophet's stride. He bumped into the patient horse from time to time, jostling the preacher. For that, the chestnut horse would receive a baleful look from the big sorrel. When Chaucer gave him a hearty 'bump', enough to nearly trip the bigger horse, Prophet finally gave into his temper and snapped, nearly biting the chestnut's neck. Ezra and Chaucer both responded with the same incredulous look.

"That was rude," Ezra said to the sorrel.

"Ezra..." Josiah muttered, not wanting to put up with neither the tricky horse nor his rider at that moment. "Why don't you try ridin' a little further from us? Then, your ill-behaved horse won't need the constant reminders to behave himself."

"Chaucer is simply enjoying a jaunt with his companion." Ezra patted his horse on the neck as he shook his head. "And, if you were to fall in your current condition, you may strike your head or otherwise injure yourself. And frankly, maneuvering your unconscious body back onto your horse is not my idea of fun."

Ezra grinned as Josiah glared at him. "Of course," Ezra continued. "I wouldn't want to be crushed in the process of trying to catch you. The best I may manage is to get Chaucer in the way to impede your fall."

Josiah shook his head. "I wouldn't crush you, Ezra."

"Perhaps not, but there's a good chance that I'd end up bruised."

Josiah just hoped that the headache went away soon.

They continued along for some time before Josiah spoke again. "How much do you figure the damages in South Bridge would come to?"

"Are you speculatin'?" Ezra asked, looking at him in disbelief.

"I aim to make restitution."

Ezra sighed expansively. "But why? We've made our escape. The only reason one should pay such costs is to protect one's own person. There is no need to return to South Bridge anytime in the near future. My friend, we've evaded the threat."

"It's me that escaped, Ezra."

"Even better."

"They have my belongings…"

"The worth of which is only a few measly dollars. Let it be."

"Ezra, they know who I am!" Josiah glared at Ezra, not believing Standish's attitude.

"Change your name… move on. It's easy enough to do."

Josiah reined in his horse and looked at Ezra. He said nothing for a moment, meeting the conman's eyes. With a flash of surprise, he realized that Ezra was apparently being sincere with him.

"I own up to my mistakes, Ezra," he said after a moment.

Ezra just shrugged. "Do what you may, but leave me out of it." Ezra's face was placid as he spoke. His horse continued on its way, and Josiah was left behind.

Was Ezra serious? Did he honestly believe that someone could just run out on such a responsibility?

Just run out?

Perhaps he did. After all the cons Ezra must have run in the past, it was probably second nature to him. It certainly was easier than staying to face the consequences of one's actions.

Just change his name? How many times had Ezra changed his in the past? Was 'Ezra Standish' even his rightful name? Sure, Maude used the same surname, but that meant nothing. Ezra himself had stated that Maude had been married more than once, and Josiah had thought it was somewhat odd that they both still shared the same family name. He racked his throbbing brain, trying to remember if Maude had ever spoken her last name or if Ezra had been the one who supplied it. Had they all just assumed that they had the same name?

Ezra continued forward for several lengths and finally turned back to say exasperatedly, "Mr. Sanchez, we should try to cover some distance before nightfall."

The rest of the morning was spent in silence.

PART 3:

The journey from South Bridge to Four Corners was usually an overnight trip, and the fact that Josiah had taken them a fair piece to the north only made their trip longer. Josiah had noted Ezra's food cache was wanting. Their hasty departure had not allowed for any replenishment.

Ezra had enough for one - and to make it stretch to fill two bellies meant that they would have to find something along the way. The effects of the hangover were lessening now, and the big man started to feel hungry for the first time that day.

Almost as soon as that thought reached Josiah's head, Ezra produced some bread and jerky. He gave Josiah all the dried meat, saying that it disgusted him and he didn't understand why he had any in his saddlebags. He muttered that he had meant to travel with sandwiches and fresh fruit, but hadn't any time to acquire these items.

Josiah chewed the jerky thoughtfully while Ezra bit into the bread. They washed the meal down with water from his canteen. The day had been hot and the two would have to find a stream to replenish their water before nightfall. For dessert, Ezra then pulled a packet of peppermints from his pocket and offered Josiah one.

"Ezra, I didn't know you had a sweet-tooth," Josiah said, popping the candy into his mouth.

"I don't," Ezra replied, holding one of the peppermints in the palm of his hand. "Chaucer does."

The horse, obviously excited since he heard the rustle of the package, twisted his head around to snag the proffered treat from his rider's hand.

Chaucer smacked at his candy, tossing his head as if to show off to Prophet. Ezra smiled and patted his horse on the neck.

"Shall we continue?" Standish asked.

Josiah nodded and the two horsemen continued on their way.

PART 4:

It was well into the afternoon when they spotted something in the distance. The two men stopped to take in the sight before continuing any further.

"A wagon," Josiah said, shielding his eyes against the day's glare. "Looks like they lost a wheel."

Ezra smiled. "And an excellent place to pass the heat of the day." He cocked his head and added, "There'll be shade beside that vehicle."

Josiah nodded, and the two turned their horses towards the broken-down source of shade.

A man was crouched beside the wagon. He stood up suddenly when he heard the approach of the strangers. He grabbed his rifle and shoved two young boys behind him. Two women were moving things around in the tilted vehicle, one of them young and the other wizened.

"Good day, sir," Ezra called cheerfully as they drew closer.

"Brother, it looks like you could use some assistance," Josiah added.

"Damn wheel!" Ned groused, kicking at the broken device.

"We could lend a hand?" Josiah suggested.

"Could use it," the man admitted, looking away. "I hate taking charity from anyone, especially strangers," he said, giving Ezra an unhappy look.

"I'd be happy to oblige," Josiah said as he dismounted. "I've repaired a few wheels in my day." He extended a hand as he approached the man. "Josiah Sanchez," he greeted. "And this is Ezra Standish."

He heard Ezra sigh in exasperation as he dismounted. When Josiah met his gaze, he could tell that he had annoyed him in some manner.

"Ned Frailey," Ned said with a nod. He indicated the boys that were peering around him. "These are my sons, Davy and Charlie." The boys were probably four and six years old. The two women were climbing out of the wagon so Ned continued with the introductions. "This is my wife Delores and my mother, Beatrice."

"Charmed," Ezra said, offering Delores a hand. Beatrice glared at him and managed to climb down from the wagon without assistance.

Josiah soon set to work, helping Frailey fix the busted wheel. The women busied themselves around the wagon. The two boys, who had stood in Ned's shadow up until that point, disappeared. The next time Josiah saw them, they were with Ezra as he tended to Chaucer and Prophet. Soon, Ezra was showing off some of Chaucer's tricks and the boys were laughing and cavorting about between the horses. The women were rearranging the boxes that they'd taken down.

Ned saw what was going on as well. "Charlie! Davy! Come here," the man ordered, gesturing the boys to the far side of the wagon. Josiah leaned over the wheel as he worked. There was really no way to avoid overhearing the conversation; the day was still and there was nothing in the way to hinder the abrupt words from reaching him.

"You don't give that man nothin', you hear me?" Ned said distinctly.

'Nuthin?" Charlie asked slowly. The boys exchanged glances.

"We lost enough to the likes of him."

"But, Papa..." Charlie continued. "His horse was tellin' us our fortunes."

"Chaucer can count!" Davy said excitedly. "And knows what you're sayin' 'cause we asked 'im questions, and he answered 'em right."

Ned frowned. "Just don't tell that man nothin' 'bout us and don't you give 'im a thing! He's one of them snakes that'll come back to bite ya if he gets the chance. He'll rob you blind - take everythin' you got if you let 'im."

Charlie and Davy nodded and looked at each other nervously. Davy started to speak, but Charlie silenced him with a shake of his head.

Josiah turned and saw Ezra gazing back at him with a pleasant smile as he rested against Chaucer. Undoubtedly, Ezra had heard the words as well. He remained leaning on the horse until the two boys came racing back to him, eager to see what else Chaucer knew.

"I wouldn't worry about your boys," Josiah said as Ned returned. "Ezra wouldn't do a thing to hurt a child."

Ned nodded curtly, but continued to glance suspiciously at the man and his sons. "I've had trouble with weasels like him," he told Josiah quietly.

Sanchez let out a breath, wanting to explain Ezra.

Ned Frailey went on. "He's just like Mr. Wilcox, the weasel who sold me this wagon."

As they worked, Frailey went on, explaining how he'd responded to an ad from Wilcox. The advertisement promised to set him up with everything he needed to make the journey from Ridge City and to build a new home outside of South Bridge at an unbelievably low price. Oh, Wilcox was a slick devil. When they arrived, after paying the bargain price for the wagon, they discovered that the cost didn't include the necessary horses to pull the vehicle. Wilcox acquired the horses, but there weren't any nails or tools with which to build their house, so money was put out again for these supplies. Once the wagon was loaded, Wilcox had declared that they would need foodstuff. Wilcox again stepped in and by the time the Fraileys left town, the family was bankrupt.

Now, in the middle of nowhere, the wagon - that was supposed to be in perfect shape - had lost a wheel. The family was forced to stop where there was no help, and Ned had no idea how to fix the thing. He was tired and frustrated. The two boys were restless, eager to help their father, but Ned - having no idea of how to perform the task - was getting agitated. The boys were in the way.

He'd sighed and voiced our grateful he was for Josiah's help.

"Always eager to assist," Josiah responded, watching as continued to entertain the boys. He chuckled. It was always a wonder to see Ezra with children; they just seemed to gravitate to him. Maybe it was his attire that drew them at first, maybe it was his smooth and enticing speech that hooked them once they were close, but there was more to it than that.

He watched as Ezra talked to the young Fraileys. They were nodding and Josiah realized that Ezra was telling them a story. Standish was describing how Nathan, JD and Josiah had managed to protect the town from a gang of outlaws while the others were away, augmenting it excessively. By the time Ezra had finished telling the tale, the rather simple turn of events sounded like something from the Knights of the Round Table.

The boys listened in silence, their mouths agape, glancing back to Josiah from time to time in wonder.

Josiah realized that Ned was talking to him and returned his attention to the wheel. As they worked, Ned went into great detail concerning their misadventures with Mr. Wilcox. Josiah listened solemnly to the bitter telling. That conman had certainly wiped out the family. The Fraileys had a difficult row to hoe now, setting up home in this untamed country with no money and only the meager possessions they had on the wagon. How could a man do something so low? What kind of a human made his living off of the misery of others, conning for money? He looked to Ezra at the thought, seeing him smile at the wide-eyed boys.

The two worked in the heat of the day as Ezra started up another story for the children. Josiah kept his attention on the wheel and listened as Ezra told the boys a marvelous tale about how Chris, Buck and Vin managed to capture a desperado, leaning this time toward Greek mythology in his descriptions. Josiah almost expected Zeus to make an appearance somewhere in the account.

Ned went off to find some particular tool and Josiah again took the opportunity to observe Ezra with the children. Standish sat on the ground with them, changing his gaze from one to the other as he spoke. The boys leaned forward in rapt attention.

Josiah realized that someone was watching him and looked up to see the old woman peering at him intently from beside the wagon. When he met her eyes she didn't break her gaze. Josiah smiled, but she continued the intense stare. Finally, her son returned with the tool he had sought, and Josiah broke contact with the woman so he could continue to work on the wheel. He could feel her gaze still on him as he worked, but resisted the urge to look at her again.

The children, who had been quiet up until then, started laughing riotously. Josiah looked up to see Davy slung over Ezra's shoulder. Standish was spinning, his coattails flying around him.

Charlie gamboled about like a young lamb, bleating in delight, "Do me! Do me!" Finally, the boy grabbed hold of Ezra and shoved the spinning man over. Ezra and Davy fell to the ground in a flurry of arms and legs.

Davy got to his feet and wobbled about while Charlie yanked Ezra upright. "My turn!" the boy demanded. Ezra tried to shake the dizziness as the boy pulled at him insistently. Josiah was glad that his stomach had finally settled, he didn't think he could handle watching the spectacle otherwise.

Ned frowned as Ezra hefted the elder brother to his shoulder and repeated the process. Charlie squealed in delight as the world spun around them. When the laughter of the two boys reached an almost hysterical pitch, Ned had had enough. "Boys!" he shouted.

The demand came just as Ezra had reached the end of his whirling abilities and he collapsed in a heap with Charlie. Davy jumped and Charlie had to disentangle himself from Ezra. "Yes, Papa," they said in unison.

"Go help your Ma and Nana!"

"Yes, Papa," the two replied reluctantly.

Charlie paused to help Ezra to his feet, but Standish waved the boy off and remained on his back in the grass.

Sanchez waited a moment, and seeing no further movement, went to check on him.

Ezra squinted up at Josiah. "Have you noticed? The sky is spinning about at an alarming rate," he said in a detached manner.

"You okay?"

"Just let it all calm down for a moment." Ezra smiled and closed his eyes, clasping his fingers across his chest.

Josiah glanced back to the family's wagon. "Ezra, I need some of that money that you carry around in that boot of yours."

Ezra didn't open his eyes, but raised his eyebrows. "I'm not a bank, Mr. Sanchez."

"Ezra," Josiah insisted. "These folks have nothin'. I'd give 'em something myself, but I'm afraid I spent it all last night." He paused. "Ezra, it'd be the Christian thing to help them out."

"You're expecting me to be a perfect Christian now? Please, Mr. Sanchez, you're smarter than that. I'll leave that to be your burden. You're in the process of providing help by fixin' their mode of transportation. That should suffice."

"They're gonna need some money." Josiah furrowed his brow. "It was a con that left 'em like this."

Ezra sighed and said nothing for a moment. The calm smile disappeared into a look of indifference. Finally, he spoke, "Am I to make restitution for the ill acts of everyone?"

"Loan it to me," Josiah grumbled.

"When the sanctified dead rise from their graves to receive judgment..."

"Ezra." Josiah leaned over the prone man, his voice lowered. "I'm asking you to give it to me, now."

Ezra lifted one leg and pivoted his foot. "Check for yourself, if you wish. The vault is bare. I'm bereft of funds. The Lucky Saloon cleaned me out."

Josiah glared at the raised foot and returned his gaze to Ezra's face. Standish's eyes remained closed and his face was a mask. Was he telling the truth? Josiah could recall that Ezra had been doing fairly well at the tables before the alcoholic stupor took control of his senses. Was Ezra just daring him to pull the boot off his foot? Josiah was sorely tempted to do exactly that. Of course, Ezra could just as well have secreted the money elsewhere. Josiah knew that he had lost this game.

Realizing that Josiah wasn't going to take him up on the offer, Ezra lowered the foot. Sanchez sighed exasperatedly and returned to Ned.

Soon, the wheel was firmly secured, and the wagon was once again able to continue its journey.

"I want to thank you," Ned said, extending his hand somewhat reluctantly. "Don't know if I could 'ave done it without ya. Don't got no money to pay ya. All of it got took soon as we got here."

Josiah shook Ned's hand and replied, "I'm not expecting any pay. It was the neighborly thing to do. I just wish there was something more we could do for you."

Ned nodded at Ezra, who was still lying on his back in the shade. "Some are more neighborly than others," he muttered. Josiah figured that Ned must have heard the conversation between himself and Ezra.

"Now, Mr. Frailey, everyone has their own way of helpin' out."

Ned didn't look convinced. "There's those that help others and those that do nothin' but help themselves. They play while others labor, causin' nothin' but trouble and woe." He walked off to ready the horses.

Josiah started after Ned, determined to say something on Ezra's behalf when he heard a quavering voice call, "Mr. Sanchez." The voice was so whispery-soft that Josiah hardly heard it. "Mr. Sanchez." The old woman peeked out from the back of the wagon.

Josiah strode over to the woman and removed his hat. "Is there something I could do for you, Mrs. Frailey?" he asked.

"Mister, I'm confused on somethin'."

"What's that, ma'am?"

She nodded to where Ezra lay with one knee bent and his hands interlaced across his chest. "Your name is Sanchez," she stated, her voice as soft as spider footfalls. "But that Standish… is he your son?"

Josiah stepped back, startled by this comment. "Why no, Mrs. Frailey. He and I work together." That didn't seem enough - it was more than just that - so he added, "We're friends."

Beatrice pursed her lips and looked skeptical. "My husband Theo thought the world of Ned." She gazed toward her son, who was fretting over the horses' harnesses. "Ned, he's a good boy - gentle and kind. He's just had a bit of a shock recently and ain't in the best of spirits." Josiah had to step forward again to hear the old woman's faint voice. "There ain't a better man than my son." She turned back to Josiah. "I seen the way you were watchin' that Standish with our boys. You had the same look in your eyes that I used to see on my Theo when he was watchin' our Ned. I heard how you talked to him. That was my Theo too. He always tried to teach Ned to be a good man."

Josiah smiled at the old woman, who watched him with bright eyes.

"You can't fool an old woman like me," she continued.

"No, ma'am, I 'spect I can't," Josiah complied.

"Boys!" Ned shouted, climbing into the wagon seat. "Let's get a moving!"

The two, who were tying the gear back onto the side of the wagon, came to attention and with a "Yes, Papa." They ran to the back of the vehicle.

"'Scuse me, sir," Davy said as he came across Josiah's bulk.

Josiah stepped aside and the little boy agilely climbed into the wagon bed.

Charlie paused and looked back to Ezra who hadn't really moved since the boys left him. "Ezra?" Charlie called. "You be all right?"

Ezra finally sat up, sod clinging to his usually immaculate coat, bits of grass sticking out of his disheveled hair. "Quite fine, Master Charles," he replied, and then noticed the state of his clothing. He brushed at it with annoyance.

Charlie ran over to where Ezra was and helped him to his feet. Davy launched himself out of the wagon to follow his brother. Ezra staggered, using the heads of the children to hold himself steady as the boys smiled and spoke encouragingly to the dizzy man.

Ned's wife, Delores, leaned out of the wagon and said, "Thank you, Mr. Sanchez. I know it isn't much, but I wanted to thank you for your help."

"It's no trouble at all, ma'am. I'm just glad we could have been of assistance to you and yours."

Josiah stepped aside when Ezra came up behind him with a boy under each arm. Standish set them, one at time, beside their mother.

Once the boys were within the wagon, Ned motioned to his sons and the two made their way to the front, where their father gave them each a hug.

"You're a good couple of soldiers," Ned said, tousling Charlie's hair. "Thanks for helpin' with the chores." Davy reached up his arms and his father easily lifted him into the seat beside him, followed by Charlie. Once his boys were settled, Ned turned in his seat and nodded his thanks to Josiah. A minute later, the wagon was under way again. Ezra and Josiah stood where they were as the family disappeared over a hillside.

"Well, Mr. Sanchez," Ezra slapped Josiah on the back, "it would appear that you're one step closer to heaven. Indulgences have been paid, and all the saints have shed their tears over your sacrifice. Now that your good deed for the day is complete, let's be on our way."

Ezra turned to the horses. He took a moment to speak to Chaucer, and the chestnut thumped his head into his owner's chest. After a quick scratch behind the ears, he mounted and looked down to Josiah. "We should be goin'. We're behind schedule already and we don't want to anger Mr. Larabee unnecessarily."

Josiah smirked. "When has that stopped you before?"

Ezra cocked his head and drawled, "Stopped? Never! But it is always something to keep in mind. Besides, we are less than a day's ride from South Bridge, and I'd feel better if we put some space between us and the destruction wrought upon that town."

Josiah shook his head as he climbed into Prophet's saddle, and the two headed on their way.

PART 5:

Josiah couldn't get Old Mrs. Frailey's words out of his head. Did he really behave as if Ezra were his son? Did he honestly act like a father?

There were times when he felt almost parental toward Standish - Lord, that boy needed direction. He doubted that Ezra had ever received any true discipline as a child, and someone had to put Standish on the right path. Considering what his mother was like and how Ezra in turn treated his horse, Sanchez was fairly sure that Ezra had been hopeless spoiled as a boy.

But, Josiah wondered, did he truly act as if Ezra was his son? No, a son was something special - something irreplaceable - something precious.

Miguel. Sanchez thought about Miguel as he rode beside the slick gambler. Sanchez thought about his son.

Miguel's existence had been a surprise, brought to his attention by Amelia Garcia. He recalled quite clearly the day that he had made that discovery.

-{[(777)]}-

He had sought out Amelia in the tavern where he knew she had worked as a barmaid. He'd come toward her, smiling broadly at the remembrance of their last meeting - it had been quite enjoyable to say the least.

Amelia had smiled and then called a boy to her side. "This is your son," she'd said.

Miguel Josiah Garcia...the boy was almost five when they met. Black hair, black eyes, deep-colored skin - beautiful - like his mother. He was built like his father (big hands and feet - a mastiff puppy).

Miguel looked at him in disbelief. "Papa?" he asked, his voice soft.

Amelia smiled broadly. "Yes, Miguel, here is your father."

The boy was shy, afraid of the giant before him. It took a few days, but the two eventually warmed up to each other and then became as close as two people could be. Miguel was a loving boy, who would curl up in Josiah's lap and rest his head against his chest. He seemed to love the sound of the preacher's booming voice, loved to press his ear up against his chest, and giggled when Josiah spoke. He would hold onto Josiah's huge hands in wonder.

A sweet child, a trusting child, Miguel would do anything Josiah asked. He was quiet and thoughtful, always concerned about his father's comfort. Josiah remembered how the boy brought him blankets if he thought his father might be cold, brought him little tidbits prepared by his mother if he thought he might be hungry. "You need anything, Papa?" he always seemed to ask.

Never before had Josiah known such total trust, such total love. Never before had he loved anyone as he did that little boy. It was amazing to have anyone trust him so implicitly. He felt as if he was a better person just to be with the boy. He wanted to carry the child close to him forever. He loved watching the boy sleep, and would slip into the Miguel's room late at night to sit beside his small bed.

For five months Josiah Sanchez stayed near Amelia Garcia. He paid her innocent visits, brought her flowers, took her to dinner, sat beside her with Miguel curled in his lap. For five months he courted her and loved their son.

And after five months Josiah recalled why he left Amelia in the first place. She was a controlling woman, who saw fit to put her hands into everything Sanchez did. She questioned his every move, had to have everything her way. He felt strangled, trapped - he couldn't breathe - he had to leave.

He left his son behind because - a child should be with his mother, and Josiah simply couldn't be with Amelia any longer.

It broke his heart to leave the sweet little boy behind, but he'd promised to send money.

-{[(777)]}-

Josiah glanced over at Standish as they continued on their way. Ezra was watching him with idle eyes. Noting that he was being observed, Ezra said, "You were lost in thought?"

"Yeah," Josiah replied.

Getting no further answer, Ezra did not press the issue. He pulled his horse to a stop and said, "Perhaps we should stop for a rest and have something to eat."

It was late in the day already, but not time to set up camp for the night. Josiah's stomach had fully recovered by now and was ready for a meal. "What do you have in mind?" He knew that the supplies were low. They'd have enough for supper and perhaps breakfast, but the meals would be light."

Ezra one-handedly opened a saddlebag, drew out a jar of homemade jam and then snagged a cloth-wrapped parcel of biscuits. He held them out to Sanchez.

Josiah frowned. He had packed up the camp and didn't remember either item being in the bags earlier. "Where did those come from?"

"It was given for services rendered. Masters Charles and David thought we might be hungry late in the day."

"Ezra," Josiah growled. "The children gave those to you?"

Ezra nodded as he set the parcel before him in the saddle and opened the jam jar. "They did, indeed."

Josiah pondered for a moment and then remembered something about fortune telling. He knew that Ezra would use Chaucer's tricks to get drinks and meals out of unsuspecting bar patrons. "This have anythin' to do with those tricks you were pullin' with that horse of yours?"

"They wanted Chaucer to divine their fortunes."

"You should 'ave returned these things, Ezra," Josiah grumbled, remembering the admonishment the father had given to the children.

Ezra shrugged as he pulled a knife from its sheath on his belt and stuck it into the jam. "The payment was given before the order from the father. It didn't count."

"You're gonna get them in a world of trouble."

Ezra slathered a thick layer of blackberry jam onto a biscuit and held it out to Josiah. "Then it would be a shame to waste their sacrifice."

"It ain't right to take advantage of kids, Ezra." Josiah eyed the treat. It certainly looked good.

Ezra waggled the biscuit. "It was given in exchange for services. Nothing was taken. I didn't steal from those children. And we're hungry."

"If they were expecting their fortunes, they didn't get what they paid for."

Ezra raised his eyebrows as he continued to offer the food. "Really, Mr. Sanchez, they received what they wanted."

"You'll pay 'em back, Ezra," Josiah finally said, snatching the bread from Standish's hand.

"I believe we're even." Ezra pulled another biscuit from the bag and daintily applied a layer of jam before he bit into the bread. He smiled back at Josiah. "Delectable."

"Ezra..." Josiah's voice deepened as he gazed down at the ill-gotten goods in his hand. "There are times that I wonder how you can go about behaving like there's no one in the world but yourself."

Ezra's attention was on eating the pastry without spilling any crumbs. "I am sharing…"

Josiah wanted to strangle the man. Didn't anyone teach this man any morals? "We're goin' back. What's gonna happen when their mother goes into their stores and finds these things missing?"

Ezra looked wistful. "She'll probably reminisce over the image of you strainin' over their broken wheel and praise the Lord that they are on their way once more. She'll hope that you enjoyed her culinary efforts."

Josiah paused, watching as Ezra delicately finished his snack and then reached into the parcel for another biscuit. "The mother knew?"

"But, of course," Ezra said, pulling the knife from the jar. "She wondered if you would prefer apple butter to blackberry jam. I, myself, prefer blackberries, and since the question was asked to me, I answered that you preferred jam over all things." He added, "The father, undoubtedly, knows of the transaction by this point and would be happy, I believe, with the trade." He pointed the jammy knife toward Sanchez. "He owed you for the help you administered. He was indebted to you and is not the type of man who enjoys that feeling." The knife was pointed at the jar. "Payment was given. The debt is erased."

Josiah regarded the biscuit again and finally bit into it. "Why didn't you just say that in the first place?" he asked once he was able.

"I did."

"You didn't."

"More or less." Ezra handed Sanchez another biscuit as he finished the first.

Josiah sighed as he accepted the food. He had no idea if Ezra was lying or not, making up a story to cover his tracks. Why did he string me along in the first place, if he's telling the truth now? Josiah wondered. How could a man be so exasperating?

When he faced forward, Josiah noticed a disturbance on the horizon.

Ezra followed Josiah's gaze. "We may be in for a dust storm or perhaps a small stampede."

"Looks like someone movin' some stock."

Ezra closed up the biscuits and jam, quickly returning them to his saddlebags. "Perhaps we should meet up with them?" Ezra suggested as he cleaned the knife. "They could provide us with a much more substantial supper."

Ezra smiled at Josiah and then turned his horse toward the small dust storm. The preacher sighed and followed.

PART 6:

It took longer than expected to intercept the group. The cattle had been far in the distance when first spotted, and the herd came to a stop long before Josiah and Ezra reached them.

As they drew closer, the two lawmen could see a group of five men with about 40 head meandering around a small pond. A black dog was the first to notice their approach. She stopped in her work to lift her head toward them, alert and ready for a command. Two of the wranglers noted their dog's behavior and broke off to investigate the newcomers.

An older man, with pale hair and skin like leather came toward them on a palomino. He was big, built like a bull. A younger version of himself, on a similar horse, was at his side. "'Ey, now," the older man stated as he approached.

"Good afternoon," Josiah called.

"Gentlemen," Ezra greeted with a nod.

"The two of you is a long ways from nowhere," the older man commented. "Ain't a thing 'round. Where ya headed?"

"Four Corners, comin' from South Bridge," Josiah answered quickly.

The younger man laughed. "That ain't the right way to be comin'! You must'a got yourself lost at one point or another to be comin' from that a'way."

"We got turned around a bit, but we're on the right track now," Josiah responded.

"That you are," the elder said, offering his hand. "Lyle Gant. This here's my boy, Hollis."

"Josiah Sanchez," Josiah greeted, extending his hand.

Before he could introduce his traveling companion, Ezra cut him off. "Ezra Simmons," he announced smoothly. Josiah looked at him in surprise. Why did Ezra think he needed to take on a false name? It seemed as if he was always up to no-good in some way or another. Didn't he feel his proper name was worth giving out?

"Well, Josiah, Ezra," Lyle nodded to both of them in turn, "if you're plannin' ta spend the night near 'bouts you may as well tuck in with us. This here's the only good water for miles. You're welcome to join our little camp."

"Thanks," Josiah responded. "We'll take you up on that, if it's okay with you - Mr. Simmons?"

Ezra nodded. "Certainly, Mr. Sanchez." He pulled a deck of cards from his pocket and asked, "And to while away the hours, would anyone be open to a game of chance?"

TBC