satyricon au go go

Tennessee Waltz

PROLOGUE:

"Anna? Who's Anna?" Buck teased, dancing about with the silver watch.

Ezra reached for the watch but Buck dangled it out of reach.

"Who's Anna?" Buck insisted cheerfully.

"Give me back the watch, Buck."

"Not until you tell me who Anna is," he giggled.

Furious, Ezra drew on him. "Give it back!"

Shocked, Buck mutely held out the watch.

Ezra snatched it back, holstered his gun, then checked on the watch's precious contents before polishing it and putting it away safely. Then he sank down in a chair, on the verge of tears.

"Ezra," Buck crouched before him. "Ezra, I'm sorry, I was only teasing. Who was Anna?"

Ezra wiped at his eyes and tried to compose himself.

"My sister," he answered at last. "Well, half sister at any rate. She was as unwelcome as I was, but she was the prettiest little girl you ever did see, all strawberry blonde curls and big blue eyes." He smiled at the memory.

"You doted on her," Buck agreed, softly.

Ezra wiped his eyes again. "I was her big brother." He looked away. "She was barely two when she died. A fever took her. Scarlet fever, I think, I can't remember. I just remember my mother never crying, treating the whole thing like an enormous inconvenience. She told me boys don't cry, especially in public." He looked up at Buck. "After we put my sister in the ground she never spoke of her again." He pulled out the watch and opened it, revealing the tiny curl of strawberry blonde hair nestled in the back of the case.

"I carry this so I won't forget her."

"You never told me you had a sister."

"It was a long time ago. It doesn't matter now."

"It matters. I'm sorry, Ezra."

Ezra met his eyes and knew that Buck really was sorry, and he took comfort in that.

"If you miss Anna so much, how can you bear to have your own little girl so far away?" Buck accused mildly.

"Because I was fool enough to marry a girl too much like my own mother, that's how I bear it," Ezra rued, then shrugged slightly. "You know our Charity," he reminded. "She finds our little outpost rather too provincial entirely for her tastes, and you know as well as I do that if she'd tried flirting with Chris like that just once more Mary would have had her eyes out, for certain this time."

Buck nodded in agreement, still equal parts amused and appalled at the behaviour of all the parties involved. Chris especially, for encouraging it. The old dog loved a cat fight, but playing up with Ezra's wife, no matter her past or unconventional marital arrangements, it was just plain unseemly.

Ezra didn't seem overly bothered though, accepting it all as a fact of life. Charity was just a very high strung, high spirited, high maintenance, easily bored, trouble making young lady, of that there was no doubt.

"I believe my dear wife believes herself destined for things greater than this little dust bowl. I understand San Francisco or New York would be more to her taste, eventually."

"Eventually?"

"Right now she has everything she's ever wanted in Kansas City: money, power, prestige, feted by society, her name up in lights. She's having the time of her life."

"With your money."

"Our money," Ezra corrected. "It was part of our agreement. She runs her enterprises as she sees fit, without any suitors to bother her that she doesn't want or need, and, for the reputation and protection of myself and my associates, I take a cut."

"You sure she's not cooking the books?" Buck wanted to know, not trusting the woman for a second.

Ezra twinkled a smile at him, and Buck had enough sense at least to know not to ask any further after the financial affairs between man and wife, especially in regards to that pair. Professional thieves and con artists both, they'd met their match in each other, and if they tried to cheat the other it was purely for fun or practice. Charity might well be cooking the books but it was obviously only to an amount Ezra was willing to tolerate. Some might accuse Ezra of going soft, but so long as his generosity in overlooking his wife's financial misdeeds was being spent on spoiling his darling daughter with ribbons and bows, Ezra didn't much mind.

Ezra doted on his child, conceived by chance as she was, and he did miss her fiercely, but he was correct in saying the matter was out of his hands. He had married a girl just like his mother, and he had no real part to play in the life of his wife, or their child.

Ezra gave his old watch one last polish, then pocketed carefully. Perhaps his own father had wanted to be a part of his life, perhaps not. Most likely not. He had no idea and it made no real difference. Both he and Buck had grown up fatherless, and they'd turned out all right.

Buck saw the slight regret in Ezra's face and moved quickly to close the gap between, catching Ezra's face gently in his hands and licking across his lips, slipping his tongue in just a little. A warm touch, a reminder of why Ezra was here, with him, and not in Kansas City with his family. Ezra opened under the kiss, fully aware of why he was here, with Buck.

ª

Buck would later muse how funny it was that life could change as quickly and as dangerously as the weather, all blue skies and sunshine one moment, dreadful and terrible tempests the next.

Ezra had been playing cards all afternoon for a diversion more than any real need for income, though he'd fleeced a few poor foolish souls who thought they could easily best the flash looking gambler. They had mistaken Ezra's situation in this pathetic little excuse of a town, with barely one main street to call its own, for a cardsharp fallen on hard times or not up to the standards of the nearest city, and they had paid with all the coins left in their pockets for this misconception.

Sending them on their way with a lesson well learned Ezra had since passed the time dealing cards to himself, practicing the flourishes that amused his comrades so easily.

Ezra frowned at the hand he'd just dealt himself, catching the first pang of unease and, turning over the cards, he'd suddenly been struck by a deeply bad feeling, a sense that something in his life was terribly amiss. He dealt another hand, reading meaning in the faces, and he didn't like what he saw, not at all.

Ezra had known something was wrong, he'd convinced himself he'd had a premonition, and he worried at it like a dog with a bone. His inexplicable anxiety had gotten on Buck's nerves after a while and instead of letting Ezra ride all the way to Kansas City he'd tried convincing Ezra to send a telegram instead but Ezra didn't want a cold, anonymous telegram. Ezra wanted to see for himself that his family were safe and sound and his irrational fears, the dark swirling in the pit of his stomach, were all unfounded. The cold feeling had a hard grip on him and it wouldn't let him be.

From his lazy position, just sitting and smoking and watching the world go by, Chris could see Ezra and Buck tumble out of the telegraph office, screaming at each other, mad enough to nearly come to blows until Ezra just turned on his heel and stalked off, leaving Buck to fuss and fume by himself on the sidewalk.

Chris watched Buck consider his options for a moment, then make a beeline for the saloon, Chris barring Buck's way with a booted leg lazily slipped out to stall him.

Buck glared down at the leg, then up to Larabee's all too amused eyes.

"Chris, I ain't in the mood, so you can either move or so help me I'll shoot your damn foot off."

Chris retracted the offending boot but drew himself upright as smooth as a snake, blocking Buck's path a step later, still with that shit eating grin on his face.

"You haven't told me what you did to get Ezra all riled up yet," Chris explained, wanting the story as his toll before he'd let Buck pass.

Buck scowled at him, knowing he was caught, and spat on the sidewalk in extreme annoyance.

"Ain't anything I've done, least ways he ain't blamin' me for anything. One minute we're just drinking and playing cards, the next Ezra has a damn hive of bees blownin' up his skirts over his family. He reckons something's up but the telegraph won't do, even though it's done before."

"He thinks there's trouble?" Chris's eyes had instantly narrowed, as he had never forgotten the fact that Ezra had married himself into a family that earned as much of their money under the counter as above it. If you wanted or needed something, Ezra was the man to supply it. Any vice, be it for whores, liquor, gambling or even candy, Ezra could get you exactly what you wanted, for a price.

Any services Ezra provided he did quietly and on the sly in town, but in larger towns and cities, Ezra was a partner in a number of enterprises that didn't exactly hold with the image of a lawman. However, since such enterprises were outside any jurisdiction Larabee and his regulators might hold, there wasn't a damn thing any one could do about it. Certainly any suggestions that Ezra reform his character and try to profit by more honest means had fallen on deaf ears.

Not even Buck had any real influence over Ezra's constant gambling with shady business deals. Though Buck worried and fretted he'd eventually just turned a blind eye to all of it, unable to take the high moral ground with Ezra after the unfortunate entanglement with the wife of a notorious gangster, the very same woman Ezra now called his wife. The very same woman who had encouraged Ezra in his wheeling and dealing.

Buck shrugged in answer to Chris's question, unable to answer for sure as to whether there was real trouble or if Ezra was just blowing smoke.

"What are you going to do?"

"Wait'll he cools down, then send a telegram."

"You think it's something?"

"Depends if Ezra thinks it's something," Buck shrugged again, and he followed Chris into the saloon, badly needing that drink.

Whatever Ezra was playing at, Buck didn't much care right now. He just saw it as another symptom that Ezra was bored and restless, and it wore on him.

Chris saw the tightness in his friend's face and he patted him on the shoulder lightly, wondering again why Buck had bothered to take up with Ezra when Ezra so plainly vexed him at times. Perhaps there were moments with Ezra that made it worth it.

Chris wasn't sure he'd be willing to pay the price, certainly Vin hadn't been. Vin referred to Ezra as Coyote, the trickster spirit, always up to something or other, always getting himself or others in trouble, a wayward child too damn clever for his own good and always looking over the horizon, never where he was.
Ezra was restless, reckless and exhausting to be around, yet like the coyote he was a rogue and a charmer, almost always with a twinkle in his eye, a flashing smile and a promise that he was the very answer to your prayers.

It was easy to see how Buck had been lured to the honey pot. What Chris couldn't figure was why Buck stayed. Ezra must be giving Buck what he needed, whatever it was, letting Buck hang around like an addict, desperate for his next fix.

Buck never felt like that, of course. Buck loved Ezra right down to the soles of his feet and they had an easy friendship, but sometimes Ezra just shut him out and it hurt and today was one of those times and Buck didn't know why.

Chris planted a large glass in front of Buck, a balm to sooth what ailed him, and Buck just leant into the bar and swallowed it in one tight gulp, ordering another. Chris was right, there was no real point in fretting over Ezra, better just to sit and wait for the boy to come to his senses again.

Only whatever had stirred up Ezra pricked at Buck, and the whisky sat sour and burning in his empty stomach, churning over as he imagined all the reasons why Ezra had suddenly wanted to leave so badly.

Ezra was furiously saddling his horse, taking out all his anger on the dumb animal. Fortunately Ezra's horse was used to both Ezra's moods and Ezra's hasty exits and so it endured its current treatment, ears flat back, tail flicking, saving its revenge for later.

"If you want to go, go, I've never kept you here," Buck drawled from just outside the livery, hidden in shadows.

"Like hell," Ezra growled viciously against his animal's quivering flanks.

Buck came into the circle of lamplight at that, both dumbfounded and distressed by Ezra's behaviour. One minute everything had been right between them, the next moment Ezra was as jumpy as if somebody had slipped a scorpion down his shirts, hissing and spitting vinegar, fretting over his family but not willing to sit and wait for a telegram. Nothing was going to stop Ezra riding out of here, probably forever, and Buck knew it. He could see it quite clearly in Ezra's eyes. He just wanted to know what he'd done to deserve this.

"Tell me what I did to hold you down, Darlin', because I promised you I'd never do that," Buck asked softly, and his low soft voice got under Ezra's skin as it always did, he could see that boy wriggling over that itch from where he stood.

Ezra stilled for a terrible moment, then turned to face him. "You kept me here. You know you kept me here, long after all sensible fools would have departed. I know you'll never leave Chris as long as he draws breath, and I could never leave you."

"Chris, what the hell has Chris got to do with this? He been at you again Ezra because I swear, friend or not, I'll cut him if he -"

"No." Ezra almost wailed, his fists pressed against his saddle. Damn Buck for being thicker than a root cellar door at times.

"It has nothing to do with Chris, it has nothing to do with you. It's just -"

"Just what, Ezra?" Buck's need to hold onto to Ezra, to understand, warred with his increasing irritation at the situation. Damn if Ezra wasn't the most contrary man, and a part of Buck wondered if this sudden drama wasn't just another invention of Ezra's to relieve the boredom of being stuck in a small, too small town that was barely more than a trading post in the middle of nowhere.

Ezra wilted, the fight leaching out of him. He spoke quietly, forcing Buck to listen, really listen.

"You ever felt the air before a storm, the way it gets low and heavy and you know something terrible is coming? You try and shake it and even if you can't see the dark clouds rolling in you can't lose the sense of foreboding, the sense that by the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes." He glanced up at Buck. "That's how I feel. I know I've played with the cards and you all think it's a trick, and I know none of you will ever believe any word that falls from my lips, but believe me when I say I know something dreadful is going to happen. I can feel it deep in my bones, and not you, not even Mr Larabee, are going to stop me from riding out of here. I can feel it, Buck. Something bad is coming."

Those last words were a plea, for understanding, for sympathy, for companionship.

Buck shrugged, not about to let Ezra ride out of here alone into god only knew what, and he knew enough of Ezra's hunches now to take him seriously, even if he always teased him for them. Maybe it was his gambler's sense, or just simple survival, but Ezra had a nose for trouble, and Buck wasn't about to doubt him now.

"You ain't riding out here alone. Not if you think there's trouble and even if there weren't. We're friends, you and I, and friends ride together."

Ezra could have melted into Buck's arms, but didn't. He needed all his strength, but he was glad for Buck's, always there when he needed it most, always given without question or cost.

"What about our friend Mr Larabee, won't he be annoyed if you suddenly ride off with me?"

"Oh, I'm not planning to ride off with you alone." Buck whistled to the stable boy who had been loitering just out of earshot as the two men had argued.

A quick nod was all it took for Buck to relay his message to Chris via the boy, and Ezra realised he was no longer setting out alone. Ezra crackled with irritation at this delay and interference, almost hissing out his breath in his restless need to be mounted up and moving already, but the more calculating part of his brain kept reminding him that the odds were much better in his favour if he rode out with his companions, and if his fears all turned into fancies, well, they could hardly think any less of him than now. It simply wasn't possible, in his estimation.

He glanced up at Buck again, but Buck just shook off that look. They were friends and friends rode together. It was as simple as that for Buck, and he wasn't about to let Ezra complicate it.

One of these days Ezra would settle down and realise Buck loved him, no matter what, and he'd stop waiting for the other shoe to drop. Until them Buck just had to be patient, let Ezra have his head, and only reign him in when he got up to some damn fool plan like dashing off in the middle of the night without so much as a word of goodbye.

It stung Buck a little, he couldn't deny it, and he'd felt very keenly how Ezra was torn between staying here with him, or moving to some fancy city with his family. He'd thought the strings holding Ezra here had finally snapped, but things weren't that simple. Things were never just that simple with Ezra.

"Are you sure about this?" Chris asked, pulling Buck aside as men milled about horses.

"Am I sure this isn't some game of Ezra's? As sure as I can be. I know we've all seen Ezra pull his gipsy crap on people, telling them their fortunes, telling them what they want to hear, but -"

"You think he really read it in the cards?"

Buck shrugged.

"You don't think it's more likely someone slipped Ezra some warning, some business rival?"

Buck shot him a harsh look.

Chris shot him an equally bitter look back.

"You know damn well Ezra's dealings are more crooked than not, you knew this might happen. You've seen disgruntled former associates of Ezra's come to town, looking to extract a little payback. What makes you think this is any different, Ezra just wanting to get out and lay low for a while?"

Buck got up right up close to Chris, cold and fierce.

"Because Ezra doesn't think they're coming after him." He shared one long, real hard meaningful look with Chris.

Chris nodded, hand gripping his saddle, ready to mount up and ride out this instant, feeling that old, dreadful ice cold terror coiling in the pit of his gut.

It had been near dusk the day they'd finally arrived at the house. There was no one in the yard and no lights in the windows. The grand, white washed two storey edifice was unnaturally quiet, the front door dark and gaping open, as if the house was locked in a long, terrible silent scream.

They'd found the maid with her throat slit in the front hallway, the blood drying in an ugly brown pool on the polished chessboard tiles. The cook was dead, too, and the two men Ezra had hired as caretakers and guardians to his household were dead in the back yard. One had been sot in the back, the other had put up quite a struggle.

Ezra had raced up the steps before they could stop him, and like the house, Ezra had been unable to give voice to his scream.

His wife was there, dead amongst the torn and bloody sheets of their bed, her clothes ripped from her, all cut to pieces.

"Get him out of here," Chris ordered, but Ezra couldn't be moved.

"Get. Him. Out." Chris hissed and Josiah knocked Ezra out with one swipe of his heavy hand, caught him and handed him off to Buck.

"Take him away from here, brother," Josiah begged of Buck softly, knowing Buck would be seeing that dead girl in that bed for the rest of his life. They all would. He gave Buck a shove towards the door.

In the child's room they found the nanny lying dead by the door.

Vin crept towards the tiny crib, peeked over the side, and wished he'd never had. He'd seen similar horrors, and the sight of it still woke him at night, but never brought upon a child that he'd dandled on his knee.

Chris saw all of the colour drain out of Vin's face.

"Who'd do that to a child?" Vin asked him, pleading with him.

"Monsters." Chris answered simply, abruptly.

JD was crouched crying in the corner, huddled over next to where he'd been sick. Chris nodded and Nathan took JD back downstairs, to sit out in the front where a few stray chickens searched the courtyard for something worth pecking. JD leant over and retched again.

It took them all night to carry the bodies down to the undertaker's cart that JD had fetched, irritated by the constant suggestions from the local police chief that Ezra's wife had turned his house into a brothel and a gaming house, and this had been the natural outcome.

They'd had to restrain Chris physically from killing the man if he'd called Ezra's wife a whore one more time. They all knew Charity had entertained gentleman callers on the side, but as lovers, never paying customers. It was a fine but important distinction. She had her lovers and Ezra had Buck and it had suited them fine. They were sure Charity would have never let a man into the house who could have done this.

Josiah had tenderly carried Charity's body downstairs, wrapped in a clean sheet. He'd prayed for her as they'd loaded her onto the cart with the rest, Vin placing a tiny bundle beside her. Josiah had no words to offer up for the child, struck into silence. He could only touch the child's body and wish it peace. He'd buried children before, too many, but they'd died of fever of starvation, never anything like this.

They'd shut up the house, leaving Vin and Chris to guard it, while Josiah, JD and Nathan had followed the police chief and undertaker back into town.

Buck had checked into one of Ezra's part owned hotels, standing guard outside the door of one of the best rooms.

"How is he?" Nathan asked of Buck.

Buck was slumped against the door, head bowed. "I think you can give him more of what he needs than I can," Buck murmured quietly, his eyes flicking to Nathan's medical bag.

Nathan nodded opened the door, finding Ezra curled on one side in the bed, the sheets balled in his hands, not moving or saying a word. Shattered furniture and broken glass swept into the corner showed testament to an earlier rage.

Ezra ignored Nathan, not caring at all as Nathan gave him a healthy dose of morphine to quiet him for the night. Nathan wished he could do more for Ezra, but that was more Josiah's area than his. He shook his head and took his leave.

"He'll sleep now," he advised Buck and gently guided Buck downstairs for some medicinal brandy, because in all his time in the man's company, Nathan had never seen Buck look so wretched.

Vin hunched over the small fire he'd managed to get started, unable to get warm. He and Chris were both going to sleep out in the open, neither having the stomach to stay in the house. The whole place was haunted by the angry ghosts of the newly dead. Even without seeing what he'd seen, Vin would have known something terrible had happened here. It had that sense about it.

They were here to see that nothing more was touched, that Ezra's fine things weren't looted, not that they thought Ezra cared much one way or the other right now. In the morning they'd begin closing up the house properly, disposing of the property and hunting for clues, if any remained, as to who could have done such a terrible thing. Neither wanted to say it, but they both knew their first thought was probably the right one, that this had been done by a business rival of Ezra's. Someone had resented Ezra's hostile takeover of the Nicholls organisation and they'd sent him a message. This was the first act in a criminal gang war. They'd turned a blind eye to Ezra's illicit activities for too long.

The time had come for Ezra to choose between being a lawman or a law breaker. They'd stand by him, if he chose to walk away now, but if he embroiled himself in this war, they would have no part in it.

Chris was smoking quietly, watching the flames dance, looking as raw and exposed as Vin had ever seen him. Then Vin remembered with a shock what Chris was seeing in the flames: the murder of his own wife and child.

"Chris," Vin tried, but Chris shook his head. He wasn't given to words, and no words could describe what the day had dredged up, memories he'd thought long buried and forgotten. Chris took another bitter swallow from the one bottle he'd taken from the house, not thinking Ezra would mind, or care.

Vin studied the man and realised that's why Chris had volunteered himself for this duty. In town he'd be too tempted to burn his anger and bury his grief, and Buck was in no shape to bring Chris back from the brink this time. Chris knew this and he'd chosen to isolate himself out here instead, where he could sit and try to smother the churning emotions himself.

Losing himself was easy, composing himself took much more steel and grit, yet Chris had to, he had no choice. He had to be there, to hold the team together, for Buck's sake. He owed him that much, at the very least. It was time for Chris to stand up for Buck, no matter how much it hurt.

Chris wasn't the man they'd first encountered: a sullen loner prone to exploding in insane fits of rage when his blood was up, the moon was high and he'd been drinking hard. The Chris Larabee sitting by the flames now was a bitterly wounded man, but with a quietness and strength about him that drew Vin in. Vin could imagine a Chris less hardened by life, more given to smiling and laughing, and he could well imagine how Buck and Sarah had fallen in love with him.

Vin watched the flames with Chris, neither man wanting to talk. It was enough to share the silence. The fire crackled and popped in the darkness and they huddled close, all too aware of the night pressing in around them, and waited for the first light of morning.

Nathan had to take spell sitting down. He cursed himself for his squeamishness. It wasn't like he hadn't cut up anybody he'd known before, nor should he let the decomposing state of the bodies get to him, but it did. He'd seem some terrible, terrible things in his time as a slave and a stretcher bearer in the war. He'd seen murders and butchery and animal cruelty, but this had to be close to the worst thing that he'd ever seen. He'd heard of such things happening, but he'd never really seen it this close, and never to somebody he'd known, to a child he had delivered with his own hands.

He bent forward, still feeling slightly faint, his empty stomach rising and falling, the outrage in his heart growing second by second. He'd known Ezra's wife had been brutally raped before the animals had started cutting into her, and probably during. That much he'd known just from seeing the way the body had been spread out on the blood soaked bed. But the child, what monster would do that to a child, Ezra's child? Dear god, that there were such people in the world.

He schooled himself, made himself bite down on all his churning emotions, and went back to his job of cataloguing each terrible wound before the bodies were decently buried. He'd tell Chris what he'd found, but he knew Ezra must never know. The thought came unbidden to him that Ezra might already know, because Ezra, like Vin, missed very little, and Ezra, as much as Nathan and Josiah chided him, always looked for the worst in a man's nature.

The thought stayed Nathan's hand for a moment. Ezra knew what they'd done to his wife and his baby daughter. Dear god, what must Ezra have felt when he saw them. Nathan was glad he'd given Ezra some release this night.

It was true Ezra had only married Charity for the enterprises she had inherited from the gang war she'd had a part in starting. She was quick and ruthless and so very beautiful and Ezra had found his match in her. He'd fallen in love with her in his own way, more as a brother than a lover, but there had been no doubt that his affection for her was real, and returned in kind. The child had sprung from the legal requirement that their marriage be consummated, and Ezra had lavished all the love and attention on his child that he himself had been denied. And now they'd been taken from him in one brutal gesture. No matter what Ezra's wife might have done, no woman deserved to die as she had.

Nathan shook his head. No matter how much he disapproved of Ezra's financial interests, Ezra's dubious business dealings did not require a payment for his transgressions in the loss of his family, especially not like this.

ª

It was a slow, long and sombre trip back into town. Everyone knew Ezra was grieving hard so they left him well alone.

Ezra had doted on his baby daughter, as proud as any pappa, spoiling her with lace dresses and silver hair brushes and promenading her up and down the town when his family had come to visit. Now all he had of his darling Amber was a photograph and a lock of hair, and a terrible regret that he'd not moved his family here, to be with him. But both he and Charity had enjoyed their freedoms and had thought nothing of their visits between this town and Kansa City. They had been such a match for each other, the gambler and the actress, much more like siblings in looks and manner than lovers. For a sham marriage born of convenience, they'd shared more love and respect than most other marriages people could think of.

There was nothing Ezra could have done, even if he had been there. He'd have probably died trying, as Chris and Buck reminded him, but it didn't make the what ifs any less painful or real in his mind, as he played over and over in his mind what he could have done differently to save the life of his only child.

Ezra was sitting on the edge of his quilted bed, turning the tiny silver hairbrush over and over in his hands. There were still a few wisps of strawberry blonde hair caught in the brush.

Tenderly Buck caught the brush and pulled it away from Ezra's hands, setting it down carefully on the dresser.

"Time to go," he offered quietly.

Ezra gazed up at him with eyes so burnt full of sadness. There was nothing Buck could say or do to ease the pain he saw there.

"Come on." He pulled Ezra gently to his feet. "Everybody's waiting." He fussed with Ezra's best mourning coat, brushing it down.

Ezra led the way out of the room in a sombre procession, a procession that lasted all the way to the cemetery.

It was a cold sharp wind that ripped across the plains, biting into raw, exposed skin. The grass was brown and withered as far as the eye could see, the trees were stripped bare early this year, skinned and shivering.

Chris dipped the brim of his hat, trying to deflect the wind that stung tears in his eyes. He was cold, ice cold, and so empty, watching the tiny coffin lowered down into the ground to rest with a clumsy clump on top of the larger one. He turned away as the first shovel of hard baked dirt rattled down on the polished wooden boxes, remembering two coffins, hand hewn from burnt timbers, being dropped into holes he'd dug himself with blistered, bleeding hands.

He'd never forgotten how the tiny box had weighed almost nothing. He gazed across at Ezra. Ezra knew that now, how a child's coffin weighed nothing, how you had nothing left to hold in your hands. They were burying Ezra's family on this cold and bitter afternoon. There were no sounds, other than the soft thuds of soil slowly filling the holes.

It had happened in a heartbeat. Ezra had married for money but friendship then a child had followed. Ezra had adored his wife and baby daughter, even though they lived in Kansas City, where his wife's business interests lay. She ran her business under Ezra's name, but it wasn't enough to protect her. Ezra's family had been brutally murdered, just to let Ezra know a business rival had his eye on the prize. Right now business was the last thing on Ezra's mind.

Right now Chris doubted there was anything left functioning in Ezra's mind. Dosed to the eyeballs by Nathan, lest anyone be distressed by the sight of unseemly grieving, and gently manoeuvred into position by Buck like an automaton, anyone could tell just by looking at Ezra that he'd gone away. Ezra would remember this day for the rest of his life, but for now, he wasn't here, and there were no words to speak, no tears to cry.

As the solemn party walked slowly back to town Chris watched as Buck remained by Ezra's side, protecting him like a faithful dog and growling at anyone who got too close. Chris envied the arm Buck kept around Ezra's shoulders and he bitterly regretted having pushed Buck away with words, fists and even bullets when he'd needed him most. Buck could have offered him comfort like this, if only Chris had been left with enough sense to let him.

Only he hadn't and he'd nearly destroyed their friendship in his grief. Chris watched Ezra and he envied him in a terrible way. Ezra had a circle of friends all doing what they could to ease him through this, and Chris wondered again if the dark demons that burned in his nightmares might have been banked down to embers if he'd just let Buck hold him the way he saw Buck holding Ezra now.

ª

Buck left Ezra lying alone in the middle of their bed, helpless to do anything, and quietly exited the room. He found Chris and Vin waiting on the landing, sympathy etched in their faces.

"How is he?" Vin had to ask, knowing he was intruding, but fretting over Ezra's wellbeing too much not to.

Buck exhaled, leant back against the door and shook his head.

"I don't know. He's barely said a word to me."

"Man's grievin'," Chris surmised bluntly.

Buck shot him a look and Vin could see a lot of history, bad history, ripple between Chris and Buck without a word being spoken. This whole business had stirred up dark memories for both men. Chris was revisiting old hurts and Buck, Buck was just torn apart. Bad enough he'd had to help Chris bury his family, now he'd helped bury Ezra's family, too. Buck had lost his friendship with Chris over the graves of his wife and child, and it had taken him a long time to earn it back.

Buck was scared he'd lose Ezra just the same way. He was afraid he was cursed. Both times he'd kept the men from their families, both times he'd accepted more than his share of the blame. Buck was grieving almost as hard as Ezra. He'd not only been a part of the strange little family, there'd been some thought that the child might have actually been his, until she'd popped out all orange curls, bright green eyes and dimples. There had been no doubt as to who her father was after that. It hadn't stopped Buck doting on her and spoiling her rotten.

As unlikely as it was, Ezra had fathered a daughter. Now she had been taken from him, and Buck held himself to blame, keeping Ezra in town, keeping Ezra with him when he should have been in Kansas City with his family. That Ezra and Charity had been happy to lead their independent lives made no nevermind any more. Ezra had lost his family, and now Buck feared he was losing Ezra, piece by piece, moment by moment. The closed door between them was only the start. He'd been through this all before. Chris had fought hard against his grief, getting bitter drunk and mean, rather than Ezra's eerily quiet acceptance, but the sentiment had been the same. Chris was too often reminded of his loss when he looked at Buck. Now Ezra would be the same.

Chris saw all this pass through Buck's eyes and he reached out, placing a hand on Buck's shoulder.

"Weren't your fault. You couldn't have known. You can't be responsible for what some crazy murdering bastard has done."

Another long look passed between the two men, and Vin could see Buck grab onto Chris' forgiveness with both hands, lean and sparing though it was. He turned into Chris, and Chris, never one to give much of himself these days, held him tight, knowing he needed to do this, as much for his own sake as for Buck's.

"Weren't your fault," he soothed, brushing his cheek against Buck's. Gently, he made Buck look at him and pay him mind. "Weren't your fault. You couldn't have known. We all pretend like we've got forever."

Buck buried his face into Chris' shoulder's and let a dreadful sob loose, and Chris was about the only thing holding him up.

Embarrassed by the breaking of the dam of emotions between Buck and Chris, Vin slipped quietly into Ezra's room. He sat quietly on the bed and ran a hand along Ezra's arm, just so he'd know he was there in the dim gloom. Not that Ezra wasn't perfectly aware of Vin, he just didn't have the strength to react.

Vin began rubbing his hand down Ezra's back, as though calming a spooked horse, and Ezra rolled over at last, though whether to stop him or to acknowledge him, Vin wasn't sure. He couldn't see Ezra's face, not clearly in the darkness, only the white of his shirt, now slightly rumpled.

Vin wanted to light a lamp but he knew that was the last thing Ezra needed. He could feel Ezra watching him with those eyes that saw more than they ever let on. That was one of the few things they had in common.

Vin knew now it would have never have worked out between Ezra and him. He loved the feel and smell of Ezra but Ezra was so different, a breed apart from Vin Tanner. Ezra was a fancy city boy through and through and at least in Buck Ezra had someone more than capable of helping him run his enterprises. Vin was barely literate and he knew he'd have never have been able to help out Ezra the way Buck did.

His feelings for Ezra had never gone away, though. They'd banked down, but he still felt their warmth like an old hearth. Ezra must have felt the same way because he reached out a hand to Vin in a wordless gesture. Vin took it and held it and lay down beside Ezra, holding him close. There was nothing overtly sexual in his embrace, only comfort. Ezra needed to feel the living warmth of someone who loved him. Only wrapped in Vin's arms did Ezra finally manage to fall asleep.

When Vin finally came back down the stairs he found Chris and Buck still in the hotel, eating dinner. It seemed odd to be dining at such a time, but Chris had insisted, stating with authority that sadness was more bitter on an empty stomach.

Buck sat up properly and regarded Vin coldly. He didn't ask if Vin had fucked Ezra. He didn't want to know, but if he had it was just one more step that Ezra had taken away from him.

Chris knew Buck's thoughts and squeezed his shoulder in a small gesture of sympathy.

A wall Vin had never even noticed had broken down between Chris and Buck. They were close, sharing thoughts with just a look, the way he and Chris had. Vin suddenly realised he'd been usurped in his position by Chris's side, or rather, Buck had regained his rightful place.

It wasn't just a sexual vibe between the two men, it was love, and a friendship and history that was five times deeper than anything he and Chris had managed so far.

Buck went back to eating, not saying anything, but silently blessing Chris for his wisdom. The beer and potatoes were cushioning the pain he felt inside.

Chris flicked a glance at Vin, inviting him to sit at his left. He didn't much want to care about what had passed between Vin and Ezra upstairs either.

"He's asleep," Vin offered.

Buck nodded and Chris gave Vin a searching look, one Vin couldn't answer, not just yet.

Buck pushed his plate away suddenly, unable to eat any more.

"Where you going?" Chris asked, concerned at the sudden abrupt change in Buck's mood.

Buck wiped his mouth and threw his napkin down on the table. "Just goin' ta check on him."

"But he's asleep," Vin protested.

"I'll be quiet," Buck informed him primly, pushing back his seat.

"He's just gonna wake him up again," Vin sulked, watching Buck walk up the stairs.

"Don't you go getting yourself involved," Chris warned.

Vin flicked him a reproachful look, one meant to remind Chris to mind his own words, but it washed off Chris like water. Chris was too busy nursing his shot glass, considering the colour. An awkward silence fell between them, the first awkward silence, ever.

Vin picked at the table cloth uneasily, wishing to restore his former ease with Chris, but unsure how to, when Buck broke the silence, thundering down the steps again, taking them two and three at a time.

Chris was on his feet instantly.

"Buck?" he asked, fearing the worst.

"He's gone," Buck managed. "The little bastard's up and gone - out the window - like a thief."

Chris bit back the usual retort that rose by instinct, slipping instantly into his leadership role.

"He can't have gotten too far. Vin, you ride with me. Buck -"

"I'm going." Buck insisted darkly.

"I need you here." Chris tried to placate him.

"I'm not going to lose him," Buck ground out, and Chris knew nothing short of a knock on the head was going to stop Buck coming after them, and probably not even then.

"Alright, but if Ezra don't want to come back, you let him be." Chris warned.

Buck nodded curtly. "You reckon you know what he's up to."

"I reckon I might have an idea," Chris countered, and Buck fell silent.

Ezra and Chris, they'd been burnt by the same pain. Chris alone understood the demons that were now driving Ezra across the desert this night.

ª

The train carriage jolted and Chris pushed Buck off him with a sudden shove, letting Buck think it was the sudden stop of the train that had woken him and not Chris growing tired of Buck lolling about and drooling on his shoulder.

Buck blinked around blearily, causing Chris to kick him with his boot.

"Get up, we're here."

JD and Nathan were busy coaxing the horses from the last box while the rest of them milled around, what belongings they needed slung in saddlebags over their shoulders, somewhat at a loss for what to do now that they'd got here at last.

Ezra had a three day start on them as he'd made the train and they'd missed it, having to wait for the next one, and they weren't sure how to find him in such a big city, where one flamboyant gambler hardly stood out against the crowds that swelled in and out of the saloons, gaming houses and brothels that ran the length of Main Street.

Vin nudged him and Chris turned, seeing a tall figure backed up by a couple of hands step out from the billowing clouds of steam.

"Speers," Chris touched the brim of his hat by way of greeting.

Speers looked unimpressed, giving Larabee a cold, hard once over.

"Heard you and your posse were coming back to my city, Larabee. I don't want any trouble."

"Not here to give it."

"That's not what I heard. Heard one of your regulators has gone rogue and is meaning to cause trouble in my town."

"His wife and child were murdered in your town, Tom" Buck reminded angrily.

"Don't matter. You might have been a friend of Jimmy's but I can't turn a blind eye to a vendetta going down and you know it. If me or my friends find him first he'll be treated like any other troublemaker in town."

"You wouldn't -" Buck surged forward but his friends kept him back.

"Sorry, Buck, but you know I've got a job to do, and I aim to keep the peace."

Buck struggled again then settled, though Josiah still kept a big hand on his shoulder.

Chris turned back to Speers.

"Who told you we were coming?"

"Somebody called Travis. Sent a Telegram."

"Judge Travis?"

"No, his son's widow. Said you all up and left her town unprotected, said you were on a fool's errand, trying to save a known criminal from himself."

Chris ground his jaw tightly. "Ain't like that. Man's grievin' and he wants some justice on the ones who killed his wife and kid."

"Not here he doesn't. Ain't justice he's after, it revenge, and you know it."

"You going to arrest 'em then? The ones who did it?"

"With no witnesses, just hearsay?" Speers shook his head. "Sorry Larabee. Best you can do is find your man before I do, because if I find him I'm likely going to have to hang him."

And with that Speers turned and left them all fuming and muttering amongst themselves.

"Shouldn't be too hard to track Ezra," Vin reassured. "If he sticks to his habits."

"He'll know you're coming after him," Chris shook his head. "He knows the way you work."

"And he ain't one of your damn bounties," Buck snarled.

"Not yet," Vin shot back cruelly, rankled.

"Enough!" Chris stopped them. "Josiah, you take JD and Buck and see if you can't get us some rooms. Vin, Nathan, come with me and we'll see if we can't scare up somebody who might know what Ezra's been up to these past few days."

Ezra was sitting quietly in the wooden chair, staring at nothing in particular, listening to the tiny tune tinkle away from inside his watch as it rested open gently in his palm, his thumb stroking the tiny lock of hair that was curled inside it. He heard the tall clock chime the hour down the hall and he snapped his watch shut.

He stood in front of the mirror, strapping on his Derringer rig and testing it several times, satisfied at last with he way the tiny gun snapped into his palm with the merest flick of his wrist. He tucked away his Derringer, slipped his watch deep in his pocket and shrugged on his coat. He wore black from head to toe and he brushed the sleeves and shoulder of his black coat. Adjusting it in the mirror, judging it suitable mourning attire for a young gentleman such as himself, washed up in this town of thieves and sin. He should fit right in, only he wasn't thinking to leave his mark, rather he was thinking on letting the town swallow him whole, as he had nothing left to give it, or anyone else.

ª

Nathan paused on the threshold of a particularly rowdy hotel, coming to a dead stop, forcing Chris to loop back and face him.

Nathan found it hard to say what needed to be said, but forced himself to meet Chris in the eyes.

"Maybe Buck's right, maybe Ezra don't want to be found."

Chris ducked the brim of his hat, hiding his eyes.

"I know he don't, but what Ezra wants don't matter. We don't abandon our own, you should know that."

Nathan nodded, then unloaded his second charge.

"I can't go with you. Where you go, I can't follow." He nodded inside the bar.

Chris nodded curtly. "I wasn't expecting you to. I need you to talk to your own people, the maids and the livery boys, folks nobody notices, the ones who see more than they should. We might get lucky, Ezra might have gotten careless -"

"Around the hired help," Nathan finished for him bitterly, but Chris had a point, right or wrong. Nathan would be better suited to making inquiries amongst his own folks, and they were the most likely to have seen Ezra.

Nathan peeled off and Chris was relieved to have that awkward duty taken care of. In truth, he forgot Nathan was a black man more often than not these days, but in cities like these, Chris was brutally reminded of their differences. He felt he had to remind Nathan of it too, in case Nathan ever forgot that not everyone was so accepting as the folks in their dusty little town.

Vin was already standing at the bar, drink in hand, silently observing and cataloguing each and every patron within the stinking, beer swilling establishment.

Chris came and leant up against the bar beside him and Vin slide a look at Larabee, as though seeing him through clear eyes for the first time in a long while.

"You know, don't you. You know exactly why Ezra came here," he accused quietly.

Chris's expression remained tight. "I reckon I've got an idea."

Vin studied him harder. "You should have taken Buck with you, I reckon he's got a good idea, too."

This brought a spark of temper to those eyes and a tighter set of the jaw.

"Leave Buck out of this, he's been through enough. I owe him that much." The last was an admission of guilt.

"You think hunting Ezra will absolve you?" Vin's eyes were ice hard, seeing the weak and embittered parts of Chris in sharp relief and roiling with mixed up jealousies as allegiances and friendships shifted back and forth like desert sands.

"If I find him in time," Chris agreed softly, haunted by ghosts, still too newly dead.

They glanced at each other, long and hard, then parted, going their separate ways.

ª

Buck nodded to Vin as they crossed paths on the seething main street outside their hotel.

"Figures he'd ditch you, too." Buck greeted, then he tilted his head, taking in Vin's despondent appearance, the over familiar attitude of having lost something important, and the loss of it itching at him like a burr under a saddle.

"Don't take it personal," Buck advised. "This has brought back bad memories for Chris and when those demons are riding his back he always loses his best friends first. I guess he's ashamed, he doesn't want us to see that side of him, that dark, crazy side that finds weakness in a bottle and heat in a gun. He knows he gets as mad as a rabid dog and it's better to just let him go than end up chained to him."

Buck's voice betrayed years of hard and bitter experience.

Vin, however, was still feeling betrayed. "A man ought to be able to control himself."

"After his child has been brutally murdered? You can't ask a man to ever get over that. I know you're his friend but you don't know him like I do," Buck reminded harshly.

"Chris was crazy before he met Sarah, and he was crazy after. She didn't change him, she just held him in check." Buck met Vin's eyes. "The way you do," he added, his voice softening with affection.

Buck didn't mean to pull rank with Vin, but the truth of it was that Vin hadn't been there, and Buck had, for all of it, the worst of it. Chris had dragged him through hell and back, and he wasn't about to let Chris, or Ezra, drag him back down again.

A shout of alarm from behind their hotel struck up and Buck took off with his lanky stride, arriving at the small knot of onlookers moments before Vin, seeing, then wishing he hadn't, twisting his head away.

He knew. He didn't to be told. Buck knew he was too late.

Vin crouched beside the body, reading it with a practiced eye.

"Ezra's work alright," he confirmed to a disappointed Buck. The small calibre was unmistakable.

"Damn him, he is going to start a gang war, just like Chris said," Buck cursed, watching as Vin turned over the body, recognising the face from an old wanted poster.

Vin stood, still gazing down at the body thoughtfully. "I think that's the idea. Those last three Josiah and I found, they killed each other. This one Ezra took out himself."

"So he -?" JD asked, unable to finish, breathless at catching up, staring down at the body in horror and backing up a step.

Vin nodded faintly. "I reckon this guy must have been part of it, for Ezra to walk right up behind him and pop him with that little gun of his. Ezra wanted this one up close and personal."

"So it was justice," Josiah agreed, not approving but certainly understanding. At least Ezra wasn't killing randomly. Revenge was something that they could understand, if not entirely condone.

Buck was still standing silently in their midst, lost and alone, unable to come to terms with the fact that the charming boy he knew had turned cold blooded killer on him. Not in cold blood, he reminded himself, but a killer, nevertheless.

ª

Ezra had his man down on the ground. He stood over him, snarling, gun pointing straight down, ready to fire.

"Ezra, no. Let the law take care of him." Chris detached himself from the shadows to stand behind him.

Reacting to the voice on instinct alone, Ezra lowered the gun a little.

"A jury might set him free," he argued his case, gun still cocked and ready to fire.

"You're right," Chris agreed, and he shot the main straight through the head with a mere flick of his wrist.

"He was reaching for his gun," was all Chris would say on the matter, and it was good enough for Ezra.

Ezra acknowledged this quietly, watching the man die at his feet.

Chris holstered his gun. "I owed you," he offered.

That was all that needed to be said between them. Chris felt he owed Ezra and he'd take the killing on his own conscience. Ezra didn't need this vengeance weighing him down on dark, lonely nights. Nothing would bring back his family. Chris alone understood that. He wasn't sure Ezra did right now, though.

"Thank you for your assistance. Now go away, Mr Larabee. I do not require your company on my venture. It's something of a personal vendetta, as I'm sure you'll understand."

"Can't do that, Ezra. If you do this, they'll hang you."

Ezra gazed at him blankly.

"You seem to be under the misapprehension that I care."

Chris scowled. "Ezra, this ain't you, it's the grief talking. You want to kill them all but it ain't ever gonna fill up that hole you've go burning inside you." Chris stepped closer to make another appeal, his eyes still on Ezra's gun, still unholstered.

"Ezra, you're a lawman now. We can call it self defence, but you've got to stop now. We'll get them, I promise you, but not like this."

"I wish I could believe you," Ezra uttered tiredly, tucking his Derringer away. "But I remember hearing once that if a job is worth doing, it's worth doing yourself."

"You calling me a liar?" Chris demanded, unable to keep his temper from his voice.

"If that's what it takes," Ezra shrugged, turning his back on Chris, entirely uncaring of whatever might come next, as he was dead inside.

Chris grabbed Ezra and turned him around so he could see his eyes, and he saw such a burning emptiness staring up at him, like an abyss.

He knew that emptiness, he'd made it a part of himself. There wasn't enough death, vengeance of misery to fill it. Chris had stoked that emptiness, fed it for a good long while until it nearly consumed him. It still ate away at him from the inside. He felt it now, echoing Ezra's emptiness, recognising it. He pulled Ezra close and grabbed onto him tight. He wasn't going to let it take Ezra, too.

ª

Buck knocked on the door loudly, then flung it open a second later, not waiting for the reply.

"Chris - I can't find Ezra anywhere -" He stopped. He'd found Ezra, lying asleep and spent and naked beside Chris in his bed.

Chris dragged himself awake, hung over and moving slowly.

"Buck, wait!" Chris tried to get up, reaching for his discarded trousers, stumbling over empty bottles in his haste and landing back in the bed again as the door slammed shut.

Buck didn't wait. He had slammed out of the room and by the time Chris had staggered out onto the landing while trying to pull on his pants Buck was nowhere to be seen.

Chris turned back to the room. Damn, he'd just wanted to keep Ezra out of trouble, keep the boy from doing anything more than he already had that he would come to regret.

Ezra had remained dead to the world throughout the entire scene. Chris reached over and smacked Ezra hard on the arm.

Ezra cracked open one bleary eye.

"What?"

"Buck was here."

At least Ezra had the good graces to look mortified.

"He saw us?"

Chris nodded grimly.

Ezra hung his head for a moment, then resolutely grabbed a nearby bottle and drained the last half inch or do that was in it.

"Easy, tiger," Chris warned quietly, not wanting to deal with a drunken, amoral Ezra on top of everything else.

Too late. Ezra was on him, kissing him with wet sloppy whisky flavoured kisses and Chris, cursing himself violently inside his head, let himself be pushed back into the war torn bed. Chris was too damn drunk and Ezra's kisses too demanding, too desperate, too damn good to ignore.

Chris watched as Ezra kissed his way down his bare chest, over his stomach and across his thighs to snuffle around his groin like a truffle pig. Chris giggled and Ezra tickled. Ezra grinned up at him like a wolf, about to devour his feast.

One thing the seven all knew, yet it remained largely unspoken between them: Chris was hung like a horse. Tall, lean, wiry, hornery as hell and hung like a horse. Chris hissed and arched his hips as Ezra went down on him, rocking his hips, fighting and fucking Ezra's mouth. They were wild and crazy and Chris thrashed as Ezra finally managed to get a finger inside him and stroke his sweet spot and send him screaming as he came hot and hard in Ezra's mouth.

Chris lay back, all loose tanned limbs, arms outstretched, panting and sweating, eyes closed, smile sated, looking like some smug image of the crucifixion, like he'd seen his own personal slice of heaven. Ezra slithered up him like a snake and kissed him languidly, long and slow with lots of tongue. Chris was groaning beneath him, wanting it, wanting more. He let Ezra touch him again, testing at first, then teasing, slipping one finger in, then two, then three, driving Chris wild, then he had Chris' hard thighs wrapped around him and he was finally inside Chris, pushing down on him hard. Chris was grunting in time with every thrust. Ezra went deeper and faster and came hard and fell across Chris. They kissed fiercely and what was left of their souls touched and burned for a moment before they pulled apart, each knowing this could never happen again.

"You broke his heart," Chris whispered roughly against Ezra's grazed cheek. It was the aftermath and each had fallen back to earth with a heavy thump, each having to face the consequences of their actions.

"So did you," Ezra reminded.

"What will you do?"

"Get drunk."

Ezra pulled himself away from Chris' tangled limbs without a second glance.

ª

Buck had been standing alone on the hotel's ornately trimmed widow's walk for a long time, watching the city spread out before him through bleary eyes. Chris had been right, after all, when he'd warned him to stay away from Ezra. Sure enough, he'd gone and got his heart broke.

Buck startled when he heard someone behind him. He turned, wiping his eyes, to find JD staring at him angrily.

"Go away, JD," he dismissed.

"What are you doing up here? Hiding?" JD accused.

"No, thinking," Buck bristled. "I've lost him, JD."

"Good."

Buck turned at that, surprised.

JD was fuming. "I can't stand what he's done to you. You used to be my best friend, someone I respected, and I don't even recognise you any more. He's turned you into a crying sissy, made you wear silly, fancy clothes and run about after him - he treats you like a servant, Buck."

Buck drew himself up.

"Now listen here -"

"No, you listen. You used to have time for me, you said I was your best friend, but you just spend all your time running after Ezra and he's ruined you. I never thought you'd turn out to be like him. A sissy boy."

Buck stared at JD, hurt beyond measure.

"Sodomite," JD hissed, furious.

Buck sighed, shaking his head, and went back to his leaning on the railing.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, JD," he answered philosophically. "You're still young. One day you'll learn how hard this life is, and you'll come to grab at any piece of comfort that comes your way."

"Comfort?"

"Yeah, comfort. Doesn't matter if it's with a whore or your best friend. It's just a way of getting through a long cold night together."

"You and Chris -" JD suddenly realised, horrified.

"We snuggled up some nights, sleeping out under the stars. Sometimes he'd come to me after he'd been with half a dozen whores. Sometimes he'd bring the whores with him. It didn't mean nothin'. Not really."

He breathed out slowly, remembering. That wasn't entirely true. It had meant something, in the moment, but those moments were long since gone.

"I've been a lover, JD, but I've only been in love a couple of times in my life. That day I walked into the saloon after the hanging and saw Ezra sitting up and playing cards just like old times, like nothing had ever happened, I felt my heart just kick like a mule and I knew. Ain't no fighting it." He bowed his head. "Don't mean it's returned in kind, either."

"Forget about him."

"I can't. He needs me, whether he knows it or not. He's mad with grief and he doesn't know what he's doing. I can't walk away, I won't walk away, not again. I'm not going to lose him. He can kick like a mule but I ain't letting go."

JD was young, but he wasn't stupid. He knew who this was about.

"You've never really told me about Chris, what he did, why you were always frightened I'd end up like him."

"Weren't pretty, JD. After Adam and Sarah died, Chris - he lost his soul. He burnt it out of himself in bitterness and drink. He was wild and he was bad and he's got to live with what he did every day of his life. He's always got people gunnin' for him, on account of what he did. He can't ever turn his back on a man. Not unless he wants to end up dead."

"You never told me."

"I wanted to protect you. I know you think you want a reputation like Chris, JD, but believe me, you don't. I love you like a brother, and I'd do anything to save you from following Chris's path. I wasn't trying to hold you back, but you get a history like Chris has, well, you know what happened to Jimmy Hickok?" Buck's voice was still tight, still not reconciled to that news, or the fate of an old friend.

JD bowed his head, understanding. "You don't want Ezra to die like that."

"No, and if he goes after the men who killed his family, he'll end up exactly like that: dead."

It was all etched on Buck's face. There was more. Buck wasn't just worried about Ezra getting his damn fool head shot off, he looked positively stricken.

"What'd Ezra do now?" JD asked, not really wanting to know, yet somehow needing to.

"Chris," Buck answered simply, and JD's mouth hung open.

"He- You-" JD failed to articulate, the disgust written very clearly on his face.

"JD," Buck reached for him as the younger man tried to go, furious at the clandestine depravity that had been largely hidden from him until now.

JD shrugged off Buck as though he were vermin.

"Go away." JD refused to turn so Buck could see him. "Go back to Ezra. Go back to your whore."

"Ezra don't need me right now."

"Well, neither do I."

"No, I guess not. You're a man now." Buck agreed softly, and JD turned to him at last.

"I don't get it, Buck. You let him treat you like dirt. You're all fluttering around Ezra and he did this, he brought this on himself, all of it. He knew what he was doing was wrong, he knew he was mixing with bad company."

"And you think he deserved to lose his wife and child like that?"

"No, of course not."

Buck leant against the wall, tired. "Yeah, Ezra got himself in over his head and he made business deals with the wrong people, but the men who did this, they're not like Ezra, they ain't civilised, and Ezra's our friend, and he's hurting. A good friend doesn't judge a man, not when he's just lost his family."

"Ezra still shouldn't have done it, mixing with those people. He's supposed to be a lawman."

Buck shook his head slowly. "One day, Kid, you'll learn things aren't so black and white, and you'll end up doing the wrong thing for the right reasons."

"Right reasons?"

"Ezra had his reasons."

"Yeah, to get filthy rich."

"That's not fair. Ezra's ambitious, but I've never seen that boy do real evil." Buck drew forward. "When did you grow so cold, JD? I thought I raised you better."

"Raised me? Raised me?" JD squawked. "You never raised me. You were after me until Ezra took your eye," he accused.

Buck reacted as though slapped. "Weren't like that, JD. You were like a brother to me. You still are."

JD gave him a dark look.

Buck sighed. "I know you don't approve of Ezra but I can tell you Chris has done a lot worse than Ezra has ever done, so you just think who deserves your sympathy more. Because Chris ain't the hero you think he is." Buck snarled the last and JD just broke and Buck suddenly realised how hard it had all been on the kid.

"Why'd Ezra do it, if he knew this could happen?"

"He didn't. Ezra would have never have gotten involved with such men, he'd never gamble with his family's life, never."

Slowly JD understood. It wasn't Ezra who'd crossed those men, it had been Charity. For once, Ezra hadn't been controlling the roll of the dice. The death of Ezra's family had swept down on him as suddenly as the rest of them.

"She was just a baby," JD wiped away the tears with the back of his hand, grieving for the innocent child.

"I know," Buck murmured.

JD still wished Buck had never set eyes on Ezra, but he kept it to himself this time. If he considered himself Buck's friend, and he still did, very much, he'd have to stand by him, no matter what he did. The way Buck stood by Chris and Ezra. Even after tonight.

Buck tried to push that vivid image of tangled bed sheets from his mind.

"Ezra's out of his mind, and he's out for vengeance. I've got to stop him, JD."

"What if he gets you killed.

"It's my risk to take."

"No it ain't," JD insisted. "I ain't losing you, too. Buck, you're the closest thing I've got to family. Let him go. Can't you see - he's dragging you down with him."

"That's enough, JD!" Buck snapped. "This ain't got nothin' to do with you."

"The hell it don't."

"Leave it alone, JD. This ain't your fight. Go back downstairs with the others. Leave me be."

JD just shook his head. Fine, if that's the way Buck wanted it. He just backed up and left, leaving Buck to his lonely widow's walk.

ª

Ezra had made good on his promise to get filthy drunk, hunched over the bar nursing his fifth drink when JD found him.

"How could you, you piece of shit," was the first thing that JD blurted out, and when that didn't get a reaction he grabbed at Ezra's fancy black coat and swung him around.

"Buck's got a big heart and you went and broke it. I told him you were a no good liar and a thief and a whore. I wish you'd never, ever crossed our paths. You ruined everything!" He spat the last part.

Ezra just regarded him coolly, not a single reaction to these accusation flickering in his face.

JD felt something press against his chest and glanced down. It was Ezra's Derringer. JD had forgotten all about it. He gazed back up into Ezra's cold reptilian eyes and he knew he was dead.

"Get out of here," Chris snarled at him through gritted teeth, pulling Ezra back, forcing Ezra's gun hand down.

Ezra just grinned at JD as he backed away, a grin that said any time, any where.

"Ezra, what the hell's gotten into you?" Vin was in his face. "A man don't draw on his friends."

"Mr Dunne has never been a particular friend of mine."

"That's not true."

Ezra laughed hollowly. "That boy never leaves his money on the table when I'm around."

"Can you blame him?" Chris demanded. He nodded to Vin. "Go find Buck, tell him what happened."

"What are you going to do?" Vin asked.

Chris glared down at Ezra. "Try and knock some sense into this fool."

Ezra watched Vin leave. Chris still had a tight hold of him from behind. He slammed his head back, caught Chris by surprise, and dropped him cold.

Chris came to with a bloody nose and Vin crouching over him. Buck was pacing, obviously beside himself.

"I'm sorry," Chris winced.

"You were trying to help," Buck conceded wearily, not quite sure how much more of Chris's help he could actually bear.

Chris did his best to sit up.

"I'll find him - ow." He glared at Vin who'd poked at his wound.

"You're in no shape to be walking around. I'll find him." Vin decided.

"You might be able to track a man, but I know his heart - he wants his revenge."

"He'll kill himself trying," Buck murmured.

Chris met his old friend's eyes. He couldn't make promises he knew he couldn't keep, but he owed Buck to try.

Buck glanced away, still hurt and furious, but now wasn't the time.

Vin, sensing something very unpleasant in the air between the two men, and having a good idea as to what, quietly edged his way out of the empty bar.

Buck leant against the bar for several long moments, then spoke at last, more to the whisky soaked wood than to the man who stood beside him.

"I trusted you, Chris."

Chris forced himself to look Buck in the eye.

"I said I'd find him for you and I did. He was wild: he was going to get himself killed if he wasn't careful. I just wanted to keep him off the streets. We got drunk - it just happened. I saw...the look in his eyes, it made all the pain come back, all the pain I'd forgotten."

Buck looked away, angry.

"We needed someone to hold onto last night, that's all."

"And you couldn't give him to me?"

"Not the way he was, no. Ezra has a darkness inside him. I've seen it, I know it. I was trying to spare you."

Buck leant in real close, furious.

"Don't you dare tell me I don't know Ezra, that I need to be protected from his bad side. I've seen his bad side. I've seen him run out on us and cheat us, I've seen the sort of men who come after him and I saw him damn nearly kill himself at the end of a rope. I know what he's capable of and you've got no right - no right - to step in between us."

Chris gave him a look of cold fury. "This ain't between you and Ezra, this is between Ezra and whatever the hell he's about to bring down on us. He's a loose canon and he's going to start a war - a war, Buck. A war that's going to spread across county and state lines and will take hundreds of lives and probably most of us before it stops. I'm sorry I fucked him but I needed it as much as he did - I needed to feel something, anything. We're burnt out shells of men, me and Ezra, and neither of us deserves a man like you, Buck. You can hate us and you've got a right to, but right now I'm the only one who knows what he's feeling and I'm the only one who knows what he's going to do."

"And what's that?"

"Kill - and he'll keep on killing until someone puts a bullet through his brain. I was trying to stop him."

"You damned him," Buck whispered, turning away from Chris.

Chris bowed his head. He deserved that, and more.

"That's your problem, Chris. You think you know Ezra, but you don't. The Ezra you think you see, he doesn't exist. It's just an act, all of it."

Buck could see that Chris didn't comprehend his meaning, and he shook his head sadly.

"This is going to destroy him," Buck spoke quietly.

"He'll learn to live with it," Chris disagreed flatly.

Buck glanced at him, then shook his head. "No, you don't understand - this isn't just about losing his child, it's what they did to her. Ezra swore to himself that he'd protect his daughter. Of all the promises he's made, this was one that he intended to keep."

"He should have settled his family in town."

"He thought they were safer out there. He trusted Charity to look after their child. He trusted her to -" Buck broke off, about to betray a confidence he'd promised he'd never break.

"This is more than Ezra not being there for his family. This is about the way his daughter died."

Chris was watching him closely and it made Buck uncomfortable. Buck hunched forward, ploughing on.

"Ezra's mother never wanted him and she dumped that child with anyone she could pay to take him. She left him with distant relatives she barely knew. Ezra was just a child -"

"Oh, god." Chris stepped back, trying to walk away, suddenly finding the room too small.

"That why he likes to be held down hard - he thought that was the way it was meant to be."

"No." That was a strangled plea, Chris didn't want to hear any more.

Buck stood right up to Chris, trying to make Chris face what Buck had to live with.

"This will destroy Ezra, it will tear down everything I've built with that boy. He broke the most sacred trust - he couldn't protect his daughter. He has nothing left to live for."

"He's going to get himself killed," Chris realised, and not by accident, but by design.

"Help me save him, you owe me that much. You owe him."

"I know." Chris promised quietly. "I'll get him back for you." He slapped on his hat and pulled the brim down low. He knew what Ezra was going to do, and he knew he had to stop him, one way or another.

" How are you going to find him?"

Chris fitted the last bullet in its chamber and snapped his Colt closed.

"Just go looking for trouble."

ª

Ezra gingerly stepped amongst the corpses where they'd fallen, not wanting to get blood smeared on his boots, picking his way to the table in the centre, untouched in the eye of the storm of gunplay. Upon the table rested the open satchel, the satchel that should have contained the thick fistfulls of notes that Ezra had already helped himself to, stuffed deep in his carpet bag.

They'd written him off as a lightweight, a grifter in over his head. They had no idea. It was too easy, to steal from one gang, to accuse the other, to steal again and whisper in their ears. All Ezra had to do was stand back and wait for the shooting to start, letting the gang members destroy themselves, sparing himself the ammunition.

He didn't really care which if any of these men had played their parts in the deaths of his family. As far as he was concerned he was a lawman, taking out the trash, and if he claimed their unclaimed monies, well, that was just his good fortune.

Upon the table in the middle of the room stood a bottle of reasonably good brandy, almost untouched, and Ezra helped himself to a glass full, swirling the brandy around the glass and then his mouth, washing away the strong taste of powder and blood in the room.

He plucked a neckerchief from the nearest body and twisted it tightly, threading it down into the remaining brandy. He hefted the bottle in his hand, mourning the waste of good liquor for a moment before taking the cheroot from his lips and pressing the glowing tip to the corner of the cloth.

His makeshift wick ablaze, he hurled the bottle into the far corner, watching it smash and balloon up into a boiling cloud of flames. He heard the swoosh of flame as it spread across the floor, engulfing everything it touched. Without a second glance back at his handiwork he gathered up his heavy carpet bag and walked away, flames roiling behind him, a dark silhouette seemingly cast from the very pits of hell.

"Did it bring 'em back?" Chris asked, watching propped up against a nearby wall.

"Why didn't you try to stop me?" Ezra asked, not realising Chris had been witness to his revenge.

"To be honest, I didn't think you'd go through with it."

They took a measure of each other for a long moment.

"Are you done here?"

"I'm done. It's finished."

Ezra had certainly finished it. He'd called all his business rivals together for a meeting. They'd expected his capitulation, or a formal declaration of war. What they got was a massacre. He'd killed them all.

"What if whoever's left comes after you?"

Ezra turned his cold, dead eyes on Chris. "I've nothing left to lose."

"You sure about that?" Chris nodded at the heavy bag that hung loosely from Ezra's fingers.

"That's blood money," Chris observed dryly.

"It's my blood. I earned this."

Chris' face was lit by the fire, but his eyes were hidden by shadow.

"I don't mind you taking out a couple of criminal gangs as much as I should, especially as they killed your family, but if you keep on like this, I won't be able to save you."

"I don't believe I asked you to."

"You won't be able to save yourself."

Ezra met his eyes then, knowing that he spoke the truth.

Chris tossed his cigar butt onto the ground.

"You've had your revenge. Time to let it go."

Ezra tilted his head. "Could you, if you saw her again?"

Chris looked away, not wanting to answer that, knowing precisely whom Ezra meant. He turned back after a moment.

"You were meant to be the better man. Let it be."

"I didn't ask you to play my conscience, Mr Larabee."

"You seem to be in need of one." Chris warned. "You take that money, that's fine, but you keep going deeper, you're going to lose everything: your self respect, your soul, and Buck." So spoke the voice of experience.

Buck's name seemed to spark something in Ezra, bringing him to life where he'd only been dead before. He glanced up into Chris' eyes there and saw hints of terrible things. Chris had fallen so far not even Buck had been able to reach him. Don't go there, Chris was warning him.

"You've had your revenge and nothing's changed. They're still dead," Chris reminded him brutally.

Ezra's eyes took on that mercenary coldness Chris had once been very used to.

" Something has changed." Ezra hefted his bulging leather satchel. He had his money.

Ezra considered the words of wisdom, but he still wasn't letting go of his money. He had Kansas City in his pocket, but he'd paid for it, hard: he'd lost his family.

Chris wanted to know how much more he was prepared to lose. Ezra had enough power and money for his needs now. He should quit now while he still had something left to lose.

Time to walk away now, Ezra agreed. He had his money, and as of tonight, a fearsome reputation, and in future he'd not dirty his hands with illegitimate businesses. From now on all his business dealings would have the appearance of propriety.

ª

"We're done here."

"Done?" Buck begged to differ. "How can we be done, just because you so say so? Those men -"

"There ain't gonna be anyone coming for us," Chris remarked darkly. "Ezra killed them all."

"All?" Vin's face reflected his disbelief.

"He got them together in a room, then he just struck a match."

Buck went pale. "Ezra did that?"

Chris nodded.

Buck's anger flamed up. He got right in Chris' face. "If you saw it, why didn't you stop it?"

"I didn't think the man would go through with it. I always knew Ezra was a ruthless son of a bitch, but..."

"Now you've made him a killer."

"Ezra did this to himself. All of this. I told him, I warned him, he wasn't in a mood to listen."

Buck raged, but he hadn't been able to stop Ezra either.

"You promised you'd get him back for me, but you stole him, you stole his damn soul!"

Buck was ready to call Chris out, but Chris wasn't even showing a hint of moving.

At that precise moment Ezra appeared on the threshold of the bar and they all turned. All except Chris, who studied the liquid amber in his shot glass.

They all knew. They knew what he'd dome, he could see it plainly on their faces. Ezra just stopped, backed up and then walked away without a word.

Buck started after him but Chris grabbed his arm and held him back.

"The man had lost his wife and child. There's nothing you can say to him. Let him be."

"And let him blame me the way you blame me? Like hell - I'm not letting this come between us."

Buck tore himself free and caught up with Ezra on the street, grabbing him and swinging him around to face him.

Ezra tried to shrug him off, then he screamed and hit out at him but Buck would not be moved or pushed away. He stood there and took the abuse, then he held Ezra tight, to stop him struggling. Ezra collapsed against him and Buck became the only thing holding him up. Finally Buck was rocking Ezra softly in his arms, consoling him as Ezra just hung there, unable to cry.

Chris began to wish he hadn't pushed Buck away after he'd buried Adam and Sarah. Maybe he'd had forgiven Buck a whole lot sooner. Maybe he'd even have forgiven himself and given up the bitterness that he'd clung to like a lover all these years.

ª

They made the return journey by rail and it was a sombre journey. Ezra would not be comforted. He'd shut down and not even Buck or Vin could reach him. He just sat, watching the land roll by and Josiah advised them to leave him be. Ezra needed to make his own peace with his grief, and it would not come quickly or easily.

Buck watched Ezra staring out the window, at a loss. He felt Chris come to stand behind him and rest a hand on his shoulder and he was glad of it. Buck was still furious with Chris, but it would pass. It always did, and he needed his old friend more than he needed to be angry, so he accepted Chris' comfort, glad of it.

"I've lost him," Buck lamented quietly.

"Not yet," Chris promised.

Buck wasn't so sure, watching Ezra, sitting apart from them, like a stranger.

ª

The train had been idling for several long minutes at the station while goods and passengers were loaded on and off. They all grew restless and anxious to be moving again. Without warning Ezra rose quickly from his seat and left the carriage. Chris stood up after him, pressing a hand on Buck's shoulder "Wait here, I'll make sure he doesn't throw himself under the train."

Buck agreed, if only because his presence seemed to upset Ezra more than anything else these days, and it broke his heart.

Ezra stalked into the gentleman's lavatory and doused his face with tepid water from the grubby basin. He glanced up when he saw Chris appear in the cracked mirror, bolting the door behind him.

Ten minutes later found Ezra forced up against the wall, his eyes closed, cold paint flecks pressing into his forehead, Chris wrapped tight against him, jerking their bodies in savage time. He was deep in Ezra and each violent thrust up was as hard as he could make it, because Ezra wanted it that way. He'd known, with just one bitter green-eyed look, this was what Ezra wanted. Chris moved faster, grunting and grabbing all over Ezra, shaking and moving in shuddering bursts until he fell against Ezra's back, drawing a long and shaky breath.

They pulled apart without a word and Chris re-buttoned his trousers. He hadn't even bothered to take off his gun belt, so quick and desperate had been their encounter. Ezra dressed himself and washed his hands again. Chris left and Ezra followed, without a word being spoken between them. The train was still waiting and Ezra paused to light a cigar before stepping back on board. He caught Buck's eyes for a moment, and glanced away, coldly.

Chris watched Ezra like a hawk until the train lurched forward again, continuing on their journey. Then he dozed in his seat and Buck sat on the other side, fretting so obviously that the others couldn't bear to look at him. They all knew what was going on, but nobody dared to say anything.

Ezra slipped a tiny blue bottle of laudanum from his coat pocket, unscrewed the lid and took a sip.

"Don't," was all Buck said, tiredly.

Ezra glared at him and took another defiant sip.

That was the final straw. Buck stood up and walked away, down the long rocking corridor, alone, and still nobody said anything.

After a while Vin glared at Chris, who still seemed to be dozing, and then Vin pointedly got up and went to follow Buck, finding him out at the rear of the carriage, smoking, one hand on the rail.

Vin turned his face to the sun and the wind, glad to be out of the carriage.

Buck had noticed how Vin hated to be cooped up, and this journey home was more claustrophobic than most.

Vin caught Buck's appraisal and nodded.

"How ya doin'?"

A harsh laugh caught in Buck's throat.

"You know, I think you're the first person that's asked me that."

Vin nodded to inside the carriage. "Don't mind Ezra. He's hurting like hell and taking it out on his nearest and dearest."

"I know. The first time that little girl smiled up at him he was a changed man. He swore he was going to be a good father to her, and this happened. It's killing him."

"It's easier for him to blame you."

"I know, for now. But if he keeps on - I don't want to lose him the way I lost Chris."

"You never lost Chris."

"He can't forget he was with me instead of his kin, when they needed him most. Same with Ezra."

"It ain't your fault."

"Sure feels like it." Buck leant on the wrought iron railing. "I never thought I'd have to go through this again."

"They were your family, too."

Buck flicked him a look.

"You doted on hat little girl as much as Ezra did, and Charity, well," Vin flashed him a smile. "I heard all the rumours."

Buck smiled in spite of himself at the memory. "That girl had no shame, and I so love that in a woman. The things she knew -" he stopped suddenly. "She didn't deserve to die like that."

"No," Vin agreed. "But you ain't cursed. We've all lost people, but you've still got us and you've still got Ezra."

Buck searched his eyes, wanting to believe.

"He's here, with us," Vin reasoned. "And he's had his revenge, so it won't eat at him like it does Chris. He'll come good."

Buck gazed out into the distance. He wasn't so sure.

Vin followed Buck's gaze. He suddenly pushed forward, squinting at the horizon.

"What?" asked Buck, leaning forward to try and see what Vin saw.

"Trouble," Vin nodded towards the dust plumes that meant riders coming in, riders coming in hard and fast, riders that had been waiting up in the pass for the train to come this way.

"Tell Chris." Vin nodded back towards the car. He and Buck exchanged a look as he unslung his mare's leg. More trouble, heading right their way.

Buck made his way back through the carriage, his grim expression making Chris sit up and take notice, and Chris' sudden tensing alerting the rest of the seven.

Buck leant real close on Chris' seat, hand already resting lightly on his piece.

"Riders coming in."

"How many?"

"About half a dozen," Buck started, then heard Vin crack off a shot. "Four or five," he corrected.

Chris nodded, the old fire shining in his eyes. "I like those odds." He rose out of his seat, ready for action, that old shit eating grin starting to curl his lips. A good fight was just what he needed.

His compadres rose up behind him and Chris sent them back through the other carriages with a nod.

"Ezra, you stay here with me and Buck. Vin'll try and pick 'em off but odds on they'll still try to jump on the back here. The others can dissuade them if they get by us."

"Get by us?" JD wasn't liking the sound of that.

"It'd be mighty careless of us," Buck agreed.

ª

Vin managed to pick off another rider but that still left three to catch up and snag onto the end of the train. The butt of Vin’s rifle dislodged one but that left two to climb on board. The tallest had Vin in his sights as he climbed over the iron grill while Vin was busy reloading. Chris shot clear through the door and then there was one.

That lone would be train robber looked up to see seven pieces drawn on him and he knew better than to try and argue with those odds. He threw down his piece and let himself be carted off by the train guards and thrown in the mail carriage, shackled to the wall.

Chris sank back into his seat, sharing an intense look with Vin. That close call had been a little too close for his liking. Buck was busy placating their fellow passengers, who were not entirely sure these seven men amongst them weren’t in cahoots with the horsemen, and Ezra, he just poured himself another measure of laudanum and returned to staring blankly out the window.

ª

Buck walked slowly into the cemetery that sat past the end of the town. The light was fading and it was bitter cold. There was a white frost on the ground tonight, for sure. Maybe even a scattering of snow.

Ezra was crouched by his daughter's grave, marked now by a tiny wooden cross Josiah had made and daubed with whitewash. Ezra had ordered an elaborate stone monument to be carved back east, but Buck rather preferred the little white cross. He'd watched Josiah carve the little cross by evening's light as they'd sat together on the church steps in silence. Buck liked the simple little cross, but he always preferred the simpler things in life. Except Ezra. Ezra was complicated.

The conundrum sat there now, hunched over the grave like a gargoyle, not moving, oblivious to the cold.

"Ezra, come home. You catch you death," Buck pleaded softly.

Ezra didn't stir, or even acknowledge Buck's presence. Buck slumped slightly with the realisation of Ezra's true purpose.

"You can't stay out here all night. You'll die of frostbite."

"I want to."

"I won't let you."

"You going to drag me back?" Ezra challenged.

"If I have to."

"Damn you," Ezra hissed. "Leave me alone."

No. Buck wasn't going to go through this again. He wasn't going to lose Ezra, he wasn't going to let him slip out of his grasp again. He would drag him back, kicking and screaming if he had to.

"I'm tired of this," Buck growled, grabbing Ezra and pulling him to his feet.

Ezra snapped to life, fighting him off with a sudden fury.

"Leave me be!"

"No."

"Damn you. What does it take for you to leave me alone!"

So that was it. All the pushing and the shoving and the hate and the fucking. Ezra wanted to run again. Buck let him go suddenly, so suddenly that Ezra nearly fell backwards.

Ezra had pushed him and played him over and over, testing his limits. Buck was a patient man, but he'd been sorely tried of late, and that patience had just run out. No more. He was tired of being Ezra's whipping boy. If Ezra wanted to screw up his own life, so be it. Buck was tired of running after him.

"You selfish son of bitch. You think you're the only one of us who's done things, terrible things we regret? You think you're the only one who's lost someone they loved more than life itself? You think I'm not I'm not all torn up inside having buried two children who were like a son and daughter to me. You think I don't care?"

"I never said that." Ezra spoke quietly.

"Actions speak louder than words, Ezra. You want to stay out here and die - you want to leave me. I love you but it don't mean nothing, does it."

Buck paced in angry strides.

"Boy, you've got some nerve. After all I did for you: I tended you, I helped run your business, I loved you with all my heart. But that ain't good enough for you."

"You misrepresent me," Ezra whispered, petulant.

"Do I? You want to throw everything away, well fine, but don't expect me to let you go by yourself this time. I can't do that again. I won't be left behind. You want to die, here, now, fine, but I'm staying right here with you."

"Buck, no."

"Ezra, damn you, yes."

They stood in a Mexican stand off, staring each other down, furious. Then Ezra just laughed suddenly. He laughed long and hard and his laughter turned to tears and he sank down atop the mound of dirt that marked his daughter's grave.

"Damn you, Beauregarde," he whispered as he wiped the tears from his eyes.

Buck sat down beside him. "Oh, I reckon I'm damned several times over," Buck surmised. He caught Ezra's eye.

"I'm really sorry. You know that, don't you? I'm sorry I kept you here, I'm sorry I didn't let you go to them the moment you felt something was wrong."

"They were already dead."

"I'm sorry anyway."

Ezra shook his head. "It wasn't your fault."

Buck gazed out across the soft lavender twilight. "You've sure been acting like it was." His breath hung in the cold night air. "You walked away, you took up with Chris, you killed all those men."

"The last I don't regret."

Buck flicked him a look. Chris was right. Ezra did have his mother's cold, hard streak after all. Buck blew on his hands to warm them.

"I don't want to know what passed between you and Chris, but why didn't you think I could be a friend to you when you needed one most. I thought I'd earned that."

Ezra shook his head, unable to find the words for once. Buck had been too close, a part of the family he'd lost. He'd been grieving for Buck as much as his wife and child. He'd just shut down, shut that part of his life away. He'd been so cold and dead inside, and then he'd seen inside Chris' eyes and seen the same horror and self loathing at his own emptiness. For once, he didn't have to explain himself to Chris. Chris knew, in a way no one else could.

"I know you and Chris suffered the same loss, and I'm sorry for it," Buck sighed. "But that don't give you the right to freeze me out, not after all we've been through."

"I concur."

"It over between you and Chris?"

"It was just the one terrible night," Ezra fibbed slightly.

"Well, alright." Buck rubbed his hands down his trousers, trying to warm himself.

"I didn't want - I wanted to forget, to burn out the pain, cut it out, do something. You were too close, you were part of what I'd lost, and I couldn't forget. Every time I saw the look in your eyes..."

Buck exhaled sharply.

"Okay, are we done then?" he asked quietly.

Ezra's head snapped up, reading Buck's eyes. Now was the moment. Ezra could fix his mask in place, get up and walk away, forever.

Buck was still searching his face for an answer.

"I love you, Ezra, and I'm sorry for your loss, but a man's got his limits."

Buck crouched down so barely an inch or two separated them. "I thought by now you'd trust me, I really did," he murmured, distressed, and Ezra watched as the big man finally broke, the half sob escaping from him with the tear that fell down his face. Buck's heart was breaking, and Ezra had done this.

"Buck," Ezra whispered, at a loss. Buck, who'd been his rock, was shattering before him. Buck was crying, over him. Ezra had never had anyone cry over him before. At least, he'd never stuck around to see it.

Should he stay or should he go. In an instant the decision was made. He surged forward, caught Buck's face in his hands and pressed cold lips to colder lips.

Buck drew back for a second, angry, then he sensed Ezra was serious and he opened up to him. It happened as quickly and overwhelmingly as their first heady kiss.

"God, I love you," Buck murmured against Ezra's throat before kissing him again. He started to push Ezra back against the ground, matching fierce and hungry kisses. His hand sunk into the frost covered earth and Buck drew back, not willing to take Ezra on top of the grave of his infant daughter. He pulled Ezra up by his coat lapels.

"Come on, let's get you back to town and warmed up," Buck chivvied, brushing dirt from Ezra's fancy clothes like an over protective mother. Ezra snuggled up against him, wanting to be held, wanting to be warm again. He hadn't been ready for Buck's comfort before. He wanted pain, enough pain to blind himself. Now he wanted tenderness and sweet touches and the feel and smell of Buck against him. Buck let Ezra wrap his arms around him and hold him for the longest while. Then the last of the light began to fade and it was a long walk back into town. Buck slung his arm around Ezra, Ezra tucked up beside him, fitting so naturally it felt so right. One more quick kiss and they began the slow walk back together.

The saloon was empty bar one Chris Larabee, who stood leaning up against the counter, quietly helping himself to some of Ezra’s best stock.

For once Ezra didn’t make a comment and Buck just nodded to Chris as he walked Ezra up the stairs to Ezra’s room.

Ezra's breath suddenly caught.

"Ezra?" Buck asked, concerned, stopping himself mid-thrust.

"I felt -"

"What?" Buck asked, even more worried that he'd hurt Ezra.

"I felt...you." Ezra himself seemed surprised. "I haven't been able to feel anything, but I felt you. I felt..."

Buck held his breath, wanting Ezra to say it, needing Ezra to say it.

"You," Ezra admitted in a rush of breath, meaning everything.

Buck answered him with a kiss, warm and deep, and pushed forward again.

"Feel that?" he asked, smiling.

"Yes. More. I want to feel you," Ezra pushed up urgently to meet Buck.

"Uh huh," was Buck could say, caught up in the act again of making love to Ezra, pushing in deep, making Ezra groan and twist and come wetly in his hands before they fell apart again.

Buck shifted up on the pillows, still holding him, and wrapped his legs around him as they kissed. Ezra gave him a fierce kiss, rose up and he was inside Buck and Buck arched up on the pillows, then gazed at Ezra, feeling Ezra fully inside him.

"There's my darlin' boy," he smiled and Ezra began to push forward, slow and fast, the way Buck liked it, sweet and hard. Buck kept his hands on Ezra's body, feeling him move. His eyes were locked with Ezra's, watching him take his pleasure. Buck had made love to a great many people, more than he could truthfully remember, but Buck had never loved anyone the way he loved Ezra. From now on, he wasn't willing to share him with anyone else. Not any more.

He saw the slight flutter travel along Ezra's skin, the sudden darkening of Ezra's eyes, the increasing intensity of his hold on Buck. Ezra wasn't simply going with the flow any more, he wasn't just a passive whore for Buck's enjoyment, he was back in the moment, alive, heart beating, skin warming and eyes that burned.

Ezra pressed forward and ground a kiss onto Buck and Buck knew instantly how it was going to be. This was going to be a savage kick at death, a fierce fucking to prove they were both alive and ready to howl at the moon. Ezra wanted to scream and punch and bite at all the hardships he'd endured and Buck was going to fight back, unwilling to let Ezra win every argument.

It was going to be nasty and cruel and when they were left lying breathless in their bed, licking at their respective wounds a tenderness would take over and they would come together as lovers, twining and kissing as soft as summer rain and petting as gentle as young girls, discovering each other again, soothing over old hurts and finally curling together to sleep, at peace in each other's arms.

Buck lay down beside him, exhausted, wrapping his strong arms around Ezra, never wanting to let him go. Ezra laughed, not wanting to leave and snuggled against his lover. Dear Buck, he always gave him what he needed.

Ezra played softly with the first grey hairs breaking through Buck's moustache.

"I did that, didn't I," Ezra accused himself softly. He felt Buck's deep rumbling laugh in answer.

"You're hard on a man, there ain't no denying," Buck agreed, teasing fondly. "You're hard on this poor old body of mine," he whined further.

"Am I?" asked Ezra, rolling on top of Buck. "How hard am I?" he asked, face alight with mischief.

"Very hard," Buck agreed huskily, swallowing Ezra's tongue as he kissed him deeply.

Coming up for air, gazing into those eyes, Buck grew soulful. "I'm sorry, Ez. About everything."

Ezra went quiet, then just pressed closer to Buck. Ezra was still gun shy about the things that affected him deeply. He kept things locked tightly away and Buck knew Ezra wanted to forget what had gone before. It was alright with Buck. Chris had put him through much worse and Buck wasn't about to give up on Ezra, not when he needed him most, not when there was still feeling between them.

"Hush now," he murmured, brushing Ezra with a kiss, settling him down to sleep. It was over and done now.

ª

Buck stirred from his sleep to find Ezra already awake, smoking quietly, considering. No, plotting.

Buck was instantly awake. He rolled onto his elbow, eyes regarding Ezra, questioning.

"Couldn't sleep?"

"No, I was too busy thinking."

Buck held a breath. Here it comes.

"And what is going on in that busy little mind of yours?"

"I want to build a house."

Buck looked at Ezra, confused.

"You already have a house."

Ezra did, a grand little pile on one of the ranches he had acquired.

"Not a townhouse."

"Not a townhouse," Buck repeated.

"Yes, a house, in town, for you and me." Ezra explained patiently, grinning at the very idea. "A grand house. I'm sure a man of my wealth and standing should have a townhouse, not a little room rented above a saloon."

Buck was about to remind Ezra that he already owned this little room, the little room that Buck loved so much, but he could see that Ezra had plans, a desire for something more.

Still, he listened to Ezra chatter, barely daring to hope. Could Ezra finally be putting down roots? A house wasn't some rented room in a saloon or a hotel, a house meant bricks and foundations, a house was something more permanent. A house meant Ezra was reaching for something he had never known - a home.

Ezra had suddenly soured on the practice of keeping his lovers at bay, keeping Buck out on the ranch and his family in another city. Now Buck was all he had left and he wanted to keep him close. This was the reason for the house. Ezra had decided to make his stand, here.

[end]

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