The atmosphere had become tense. The lanterns flickered in the room casting unholy shadows on the hard faces of the men collected. A silence had descended over the group.

Ezra’s hands flashed. This would be the last hand and they all knew it.

The seven men eyed the pot in the middle of the table. Buck licked his lips in anticipation. With that, he could have himself one fine time.

Chris lit another cigar and frowned. “Get on with it, Ezra.” Larabee was not a patient man.

The regulators' table was situated in the corner of the room, away from prying eyes, but with a clear view of all of the entry and exit points.

Josiah started tapping his fingers on the table. The pressure was getting to him. Nathan, on the other hand, was shaking his head with disgust. The town’s healer hadn’t had one decent hand all night. Nathan looked down at the few dollars he had left to bet. Not much, but it may be enough if he received anything halfway reasonable.

“Make sure you shuffle them good, this time. I want something that at least rates as a hand.”

“Gentlemen, as this is likely to be the final hand of the evening, may I suggest that we raise the stakes to something a little more stimulating?”

“No,” Vin argued. “I can’t afford to lose anythin’ else.” Ezra’s face shadowed with true disappointment. While the thrill of winning was all that truly concerned him, he found the stakes embarrassing. Surely his friends could afford more.

“Look, Ezra that may seem like peanuts to you, but I’m down to my last dollar.”

“Me too.”

“All right, all right. It was just a suggestion.” With a certain about of frustration, Ezra reflected on his friends’ abilities to manage their money. Buck always spent his entire pay by half way through the week and then lived off the generosity of anyone and everyone. J.D. wasted his on all manner of silly and useless things. Josiah’s pay appeared to be absorbed by the renovations to the church. Nathan earned just enough to break even. He only charged people what they could afford for treatment and medicine, and most people couldn’t afford much, so the difference came out of his own pocket. Vin... Vin puzzled Ezra. He’d never seen Tanner spend money on anything but food and the odd drink. Standish suspected that the tracker may have a secret stash - it was just a feeling. Larabee smoke and drank anything he earned... well, that was a little unfair. The Seven’s leader had been spending most of his earnings on his ‘hovel’, to coin one of Vin’s phrases. The small cabin was situated just out of Four Corners and Chris rode out their daily, enjoying the solitude and the opportunity to keep both his mind and hands busy.

Standish was drawn back to the situation at hand when J.D. started bouncing around in his seat.

The youth felt excited. He’d had a good night and all things going well, he felt he might claim the pot.

Vin Tanner slouched back in his chair, his eyes never leaving the cards in Standish’s hands.

“You don’t trust me, do you Mr. Tanner?”

“When it comes to cards, Ez, I trust you about as much as I’d trust a one legged man to win a butt-kicking contest.”

“He stole that from me,” Buck claimed grinning.

“Deal already, Ezra!” J.D. cried.

Ezra’s perfectly manicured hands stilled for a second and then he issued the cards with the speed of a light. “Well, gentlemen I don’t wish you luck.”

“In your ass, Ezra,” Buck snapped, attacking his cards with anticipation. The huge scoundrel closed his eyes, fanned his cards out in front of his face and then slowly lifted his eyelids.

Larabee snatched his hand up with impatience. Vin reached for his and casually turned the cards over. Nathan shook his head once more before lifting his cards from the table.

“Lord, I need a little luck,” Josiah muttered as he raised his five cards and peered at them. Standish collected his own but he didn’t look at them. He was too busy studying his opponents. Ezra could read each like a book; it was just a matter of taking the time to observe them one at a time.

With a muttered curse, Vin threw his hand down on the table - Tanner had nothing.

Larabee had started munching on the end of his cigar - he had something worth betting on.

Nathan’s face was screwed up with disgust. Obviously his run of bad luck hadn’t improved.

Buck’s moustache was twitching - he was about to bluff.

J.D.'s eyebrows were drawn down in concentration - he was torn between what he should keep and what he should discard.

Josiah was trying not to smile but failing miserably - so that meant any threat would come from Larabee or Sanchez.

Ezra glanced at his own cards, his poker face showing little reaction.

“Four,” J.D. stated paying into the mound on the table.

“Four dollars?” Nathan shrieked. The healer thought long and hard staring at his hand.

“You in or out, Nathan?”

“In,” he healer grumbled.

“Me too,” Josiah stated, the corners of his mouth betraying him.

“You’ve got something!” Buck boomed.

“I don’t know what you mean, brother.”

Chris tossed his bet into the pot and then turned to Vin.

“Hell, I’m likely to get killed hanging around with you boys, so I may as well live dangerously,” the tracker claimed. “I’m in.”

Buck’s moustache began twitching with vigour. “Yep, ole Buck’s in.”

“As am I,” Ezra stated. “Now, who would like some cards?”

“I’m fine,” Josiah stated.

“See! See, what did I tell you? The bastard has got something!” Buck bellowed.

“Mr. Wilmington?”

“Yeah, um, okay. I’ll take one... no make that two... No, just the one.”

“So is it one or two?” Ezra demanded.

“Ain’t ya listening to me, Ezra? I said I wanted two.” Standish couldn’t help smiling as he flicked the cards across to his friend. “Oh, yes!... ooops. I mean I have nothing. Absolutely nothing,” the scoundrel claimed, reorganising his hand. Ezra exchanged a grin with Vin. They both knew that Wilmington couldn’t bluff if his life depended on it.

“Mr. Tanner?”

“What the hell, give me four. I need to start from scratch.”

“Give me one,” Chris muttered.

“Mr. Dunne, have you made your decision?”

J.D. was still staring at his hand with a furrowed brow. “Just a minute. I have to be real careful here. I don‘t want to make a mistake I‘ll regret.”

“Son, you’re playing cards, not getting married.”

“Getting married? Who said anything about getting married?!” the youth exploded.

“I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at Casey,” Buck teased.

“Shut-up, Buck. You’re full of crap!”

“Mr. Dunne?”

“Just give me a minute. I want to make sure I make...”

“The boy’s distracted,” Buck explained to the others seriously. “His mind is on other things.”

“Buck!”

“Mr. Dunne?"

“Oh, give him two and be done with it,” Wilmington chuckled.

“You’re pushing me, Buck.” The boy’s face screwed up with thought. “I’ll take two.”

“Mr. Jackson?”

“Two.”

“And I require one.” Once again the men lifted their cards and once again the team gambler studied them closely.

Abruptly there was a loud noise from the street. Seven sets of eyes snapped in that direction. Chris glanced at Vin. He would never presume to give Tanner orders, but if there was something out there in the dark, the tracker was best qualified to deal with it.

Vin acknowledged the silent request with a nod, placed his cards down and strode to the door. His companions watched him carefully, ready to provide backup should it be needed. Tanner paused in the doorway a few seconds, said something to someone of the porch and then turned and headed back to the table. The rest of the men returned their attention to their cards and then began to glance at each other suspiciously. Had anyone tired to look at their hand? The seven may trust each other when the bullets were flying, but this was a different matter altogether. This was the evening poker match.

“You look at my cards, J.D.?” Buck growled.

“You ain’t got nothin’ Buck,” the boy dismissed.

Shooting J.D. a look of revulsion, Buck pulled his cards in close to his chin and fanned his hands out around them. The big man’s eyes began darting around the table. The game had just moved into the serious end of the competition.

“Aww hell. Anyone want a drink? ” Vin asked, tossing his cards down. No one responded, but Vin took their silence as ‘yes’. Rising to his feet, Tanner moved off the bar and ordered seven whiskies. Once the barkeep had filled his tray, the sharpshooter returned to the game with them.

“Buck just raised the bet another two dollars.” J.D. informed Tanner as he started handing the drinks around.

“I thought you’d want to stay in the game so I’ve already put yours in for you,” Wilmington stated grinning.

“Thanks,” Vin grunted.

“Just the kind of guy I am.”

Over the next few minutes the stakes were raised again. Finally everything was ready. Ezra could feel that familiar churning in his stomach. It didn’t matter how many hands he played, at this stage of a competition, he could feel his own excitement rise. The anticipation of being victorious, of having out thought and out played his opposition gave him a buzz like nothing else.

“Okay,” Josiah stated grinning. “Four sevens!” The big man spread his cards out in front of him.

“Damn,” Larabee muttered.

Nathan and J.D. tossed their hands down. Vin simply scowled and tipped his drink to his lips. Buck stared at the sevens and started blinking. “I won,” he muttered. “I won! I WON!”

“What have you got?” Vin demanded, snatching Wilmington’s hand. “He’s got nothin‘,” Tanner chuckled.

J.D. shoved Buck hard. “You are so full of crap, Buck.”

“Sorry. I’ve always wanted to say that!” the scoundrel apologized with a beaming smile.

“Yeah, right.”

All of the man turned to Ezra. Standish’s face betrayed no emotion and then victory spread across it. His companions began to curse him. They watched without surprise as he laid out a royal flush.

“The bastard cheats,” Vin muttered.

“Amen, Brother.”

“I take umbrage at that heinous accusation,” Ezra stated grinning.

“Accusation!” Nathan exclaimed.

“Gentlemen, I am at pains to inform you that I have no need to resort to any professional slight-of-hand when locked in battle with any of you.”

The men grunted and climbed to their feet.

“Who’s got the early morning patrol?” Larabee asked.

“I have,” Josiah admitted. Chris nodded. All of the men stared down at Ezra who was gazing at the few paltry dollars in the middle of the table as if it were King Midas's treasure.

“What an enjoyable evening,” Standish stated, his mind already turning to the thrill of tomorrow night’s game.

Tanner flicked his eyes to Larabee. The blue pools were alive with devilish mischief. Chris smiled. He didn't know what Vin had in mind, but whatever it was, Chris had the feeling Ezra was in for a loss.

“Reckon I should be turnin‘ in,“ Vin stated. “So ya had a good night, even though we was just playin’ for peanuts?”

“Mr. Tanner!” Ezra exclaimed, apparently mortified. “I am surprised you think my gratification comes purely from monetary rewards. An evening spent in fellowship with your good self and our fellow peacekeepers is far more important to me then these heartless pieces of paper.”

Vin glanced at Chris and then nodded to Ezra. “Well, if that’s the way ya really feel.”

“I assure you, Sir, it is.”

“Good.” Without warning, Vin casually grabbed a handful of Ezra’s winnings, stuffed them into his pocket and wandered off. For a split second his companions were too stunned to move. Then, five sets of hands were thrust into the pot.

Ezra’s eyes widened in total astonishment. His mouth started opening and closing but nothing was coming out. They were stealing his money. The gambler took a flying leap and landed in the middle of the table on top of his winnings. “What do you think you’re doing?” he spluttered, pushing his grinning companions back with flailing arms and legs.

“Now, Ezra, ya cleaned us out. It’s still three days until payday. Besides, ya said yourself it’s just peanuts, “ Vin chuckled, disappearing out into the street.

“That is not the point!” Ezra spluttered, slapping Buck’s lecherous hand away from his ‘heartless pieces of paper‘. “Protocol dictates that you shouldn‘t return a man‘s losses. It‘s the height of rudeness.”

“You’ve got ten times as much money as any of us anyway.”

“That is not the point!” Ezra argued, shoving Nathan back.

“Ain’t no fun unless you share the wealth, brother. Don’t you agree?”

“I don’t agree with that line of thinking. Besides which,” Ezra grabbed a fist full of dollars back from J.D. “.. it’s not the point!”

“If ya don’t give us our money back, how are you gonna clean us out again tomorrow night?” the youth asked.

“That is not the... “ Ezra paused, his mind catching up with his mouth. “That is a very good point,” the gambler admitted slowly.

“Gonna be a lonely game then. Just you and protocol,“ Josiah stated, shaking his head. “Good night, Ezra.”

“Yeah, night, Ezra,” J.D. added, falling into step behind the others.

Ezra’s face lit up with desperation. “Wait.” No card game tomorrow night! The thought was more terrifying than any loss of money. It was then that a truly satisfying and inspired plan formed in his mind. Maybe he could convince his friends to raise the stakes to a thoroughly stimulating level tomorrow if they had their money back now. “I mean, Josiah is right. Here my friends. Help yourselves.” J.D. and Buck raced back and began stuffing notes into their pockets like two starving men spying food.

Ezra watched the pair in amazement. ’Such an appalling display of greed,’ he reflected. “So,” Standish asked, his face portraying the pleasure of his brilliant idea. “The same time tomorrow night?”

“Sorry, Ez, I can’t. I’m going out to Netties with Vin,” J.D. apologised.

“Mr. Wilmington?”

“Well, actually, Ezra,“ Buck whispered behind his hand. “I’ve got this little celebration planned. Just me and Miss Nancy. Ya know what I mean?” he asked, bouncing his eyebrows.

Ezra shot a faltering smile at Josiah. “Mr. Sanchez?”

“I’ve got a funeral tomorrow, Ezra. It wouldn’t be in good taste for the priest to been seen gambling the same day.”

“Mr. Jackson?” The first pangs of suspicions nipped at Ezra’s good mood.

“Sorry, Ezra. I’m riding up to the reservation.”

“Mr. Larabee?” The name was snapped out two keys higher than Ezra’s usual Southern drawl.

Chris simply shook his head. “Be at my cabin.”

Ezra’s face went red, then purple and then white with rage. “None of you can play tomorrow night?” They had tricked him! They had conned him out of his winnings. They had aimed at his weakness and he had played right into their hands!

“You calm down there, Ezra. You’re starting to hyperventilate!”

“Give me my money back!” Standish shouted.

“Oh, we couldn’t do that,” Josiah stated seriously.

“Why?”

“Because protocol dictates that you shouldn’t return a gift. It‘s the height of rudeness.”

“THAT IS NOT THE POINT!”

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© October 2001 Aussie. : This relates only to the creative property in this story. The distinctive way the story unfolds, the specific dialogue and unique situations are mine. I acknowledge that some of the characters and settings belong to MGM and Trilogy Entertainment and thank them sincerely for turning a blind eye so I can borrow them. (g) No infrigement of copyright was intended and no profit has been made from this story... so, please don't sue me. It wouldn't be worth your while.