The familiar sounds of the saloon wafted around Ezra.  He scanned the room.  So far he’d strategically lost game after game.  “Said the spider to the fly, come into my parlour”, he muttered with satisfaction.  He was just about ready to hook his fish. 

Noting that one of the ‘tuna’ was looking at him, he swayed convincingly and raised his glass.

The other man returned the gesture, turned to those next to him and they all burst out laughing. 

“That’s it cretin.  Enjoy it while you can,” Ezra chuckled.

Gunfire from the street wasn’t entirely unusual, but the recent spate had been going on for a few minutes longer than customary and was now attracting attention.  Ezra rose from the bar and staggered to the window with the rest of the saloon’s patrons, his performance worthy of any acting prize.  Curiosity may have killed the cat but experience had taught Ezra the benefit of knowing exactly what was going on around him, particularly when he was about to pull a con.

The scene outside left Ezra feeling desolate.  Here he was in another backward town trying to find his fortune.  Why?  Was this all life had to offer?  Was this dusty hick town the best he could hope for?  Was this his purpose in life?  There were some times... times like this split second... when he had to believe there was something more.

At one end of town, Ezra saw something that instinctively made him cringe.  A Negro was being dragged into a wagon.  Ezra looked away.  He had seen it too many times.  While his roots told him it was acceptable for ‘slaves’ to be dealt with by owners, the barbarism didn’t sit comfortably - it never had.  Slavery he understood and accepted as a part of life, but beating any living thing for the sake of it was wrong.  The fact that laws had freed men of colour should have made a difference and stopped this sort of thing.  Of course, out here - the furthermost place from civility - barbaric acts were a way of life.

When Ezra lifted his gaze, the shooting had stopped momentarily and a woman was standing in the middle of the street.  He recognized her immediately.  Mary Travis - someone of power and influence here.  Ezra had taken great pains to avoid her.  Selective anonymity was a weapon in his line of business. 

From this distance, Ezra couldn’t hear what was being exchanged but when the thug shoved the woman, Ezra straightened, his drunken act momentarily forgotten.  He could turn a blind eye to a lot, but not the physical abuse of a woman.  His mother, for all she was and wasn’t, had at least taught him that.

Ezra flexed his hand.  He was no hero, but if the man on the horse raised a hand to the woman again...  The thug rode around Mary Travis, and Ezra relaxed.  The mob moved on, clearly to find a place for the lynching.  Acid rose and burned in Ezra’s chest.  If he could do something, he would, but he couldn’t.  There were too many.  Besides, it wasn’t his business.  There was a sheriff in this backward town.  Let him deal with it.

As he was about to turn, Ezra spotted the man who’d been sweeping the boardwalk a moment before, reappear with a rifle.  Ezra pursed his lips thoughtfully.

The clerk stepped out into the street and was joined by another. 

Ezra’s brow furrowed.  An unlikely pair.  One dressed completely in black and other sporting a rifle over his shoulder.  Larabee he knew.  The moment the man in black had entered town, Ezra had asked about him.  Chris Larabee was a gunfighter of some distinction.  A dangerous man... a man Ezra intended avoiding.

The ordinary looking clerk with Larabee, Ezra hadn’t really noticed before.  He wasn’t the type of man worthy of notice, until now.  Ezra had learned actions speak louder than words.  This ‘clerk’s’ appearance and his present actions didn’t match... were totally at odds.  An ordinary man wouldn’t be out there walking down that street with a gunfighter.  A gunfighter like Larabee wouldn’t be out there walking down the street with an ordinary man.

So, not an ordinary man.  Therefore, a man worthy of notice, who knew it and worked hard to blend in... just as Ezra did when it suited him.  For a single heartbeat Ezra’s eyes met the crystal blue ones of the enigma.  That wasn’t a nobody... certainly not a clerk.  There was something noble... something strong and honest about the man.  Ezra prided himself on his ability to read people.  The enigma was definitely someone Ezra would usually notice when casing a town in preparation for a con.  Nevertheless, when he’d walked these streets over the past few days, he’d failed to do so.  Without being modest, Ezra knew that was all but impossible.  Yet, this enigma had successfully passed himself off as a clerk...blending into his surroundings with a skill that matched Ezra’s own.  The question was, why?  Why did the man choose to hide? 

Ezra shifted closer to the window, now utterly fascinated by the pair.  Both men were striding with such confidence... such innate authority.  They were following the mob - clearly not to spectate.  They were going to try and prevent the lynching.  Why would someone like Larabee care what happened to a nobody in a town like this?  Why would the man with the rifle risk being noticed in a town he’d clearly tried to blend into, to save the life of a Negro?  Ezra’s fascination deepened.  He was tempted to follow, but rejected the thought. 

Whatever the strange pair’s motivation, it was foolhardy.  They were outnumbered and outgunned.  The odds were insurmountable and odds were one thing Ezra understood.  With a snort, Ezra turned, pulled his drunken mask back on and staggered back to the bar.  “I wager those are two men I’ll never see again”.

The memory faded as Ezra peered at the scene unfolding in front of him. 

He watched as the man in black – a good man he now had the honour of calling friend – was joined by an enigma who, through necessity, usually spent his days skilfully blending into the background... the result of an injustice that plagued his very existence.  Yet, when the needs of others presented, this antithesis of ordinary threw caution to the wind, stepped out of the shadows and his raw nobility blinded all who watched. 

The man in black flashed the enigma a look and received a nod in return. Together, the unlikely pair strode down the middle of the street just as they’d done on that first occasion so many months before... but this time, they weren’t alone. 

Ezra stepped off the boardwalk and joined them, as did four others. 

The seven men strode with such confidence... such innate authority.  They were following the mob and not to spectate.  They were going to stop the harassment of the Mormon settlers.  Why would men like them care what happened to the strangers passing through?  Ezra was no longer fascinated.  He understood.  This was what life had to offer.  This was his purpose.  This was the ‘something more’ he’d been searching for his entire adult life.

It was foolhardy. 

He and his friends were outnumbered and outgunned by the drunken trail herd hounding the wagon train.

The odds probably appeared insurmountable to those who didn’t know the peacekeepers.

Long ago, Ezra had wagered he’d never see Chris Larabee and Vin Tanner again.  A smile of amusement creased his lips.  Thank goodness no one had called him on that wager.

“Boys,” Chris ordered.  Ezra moved right.  The street exploded with bullets.  The adrenaline rush was incredible.  Within minutes it was over. 

Ezra dusted himself off and scanned the scene. 

A man completely in black and an enigma with a rifle slung over his shoulder, started back down the street.  They strode with such confidence... such innate authority.  Ezra joined them... for he was one of them. 

Their job was done here...  until the next time.

---

Aussielass_site@outlook.com

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© June 2009 Aussie Lass. : 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.