Part 4

JD knew that he'd made some sort of mistake in offering to help with the shopping when Buck smiled at him, the grin reaching all over his face. Then Chris confirmed his fears by asking in a soft, almost gentle voice, "You sure?" He could have backed down, but he just couldn't figure out why he should stay in that car.

"Yeah, of course." He climbed out behind Josiah and went to stand on the curb looking around for Buck.

"He's over there," Nathan said, reading JD's mind and pointing to their brother who only seconds before had been at their side and was currently helping an elderly woman push a grocery laden cart out to her car.

JD frowned as his eyes followed Nathan's pointing fingered. "How did he..."

"I think he has some sort of radar for ladies in distress." Nathan answered as they all watched Buck unload the frail looking woman's groceries.

Chris watched Buck load the woman's groceries with a slight smirk on his face. When he heard the passenger door slam shut he didn’t wait until Josiah had his seat belt buckled before he started the engine. He rolled down the window of the bronze Buick le Sabre and told JD and Nathan, "Don't take all day." He didn't fail to notice the puzzled frown JD still had on his face. Good. Buck would make the kid forget the events of the day.

"Nice car." Josiah eased the seat back to accommodate his legs a little better. On the way to the hospital, he had ridden in the back alongside Vin and JD while Chris had taken them on one of the most hair-raising rides he'd ever been fortunate enough to survive. Coming out of the hospital he had quietly slipped into the back with JD while Nathan, Buck and Chris had argued about who got to sit in the more spacious front. Chris had ended up driving and Buck mumbling about how all the short people should be sitting in the back and how people of decent height needed the legroom of the front. Nathan had just told Buck to shut up, that he had pulled the seat up as far as it could go. It appeared to be part of a long-standing argument. Josiah suspected that Chris rarely, if ever, let the others drive. He had closed his eyes when the bickering continued, partly because he was trying to tune them out and partly because he wanted to send a heartfelt prayer up to God asking that Chris not speed and to slow down for the hairpin-curves. God had heard his prayers and even when Nathan had hissed something to Chris that couldn't be heard over Buck's complaints and Chris's anger became something that could be felt throughout the car, Chris did take it easy on the gas pedal.

"Dad bought it not quite a year ago. At the time he told Buck that he was tired of driving a pick-up everywhere, wanted something a little more comfortable. Buck called me up, I was ... not here at the time and Buck started in about Dad getting this car; he was worried that Dad was sick and just not telling him. I guess he got the car the same time he started thinking of you four. Same time he hired an interior decorator and remodeled the house."

"Does it bother you that he started thinking about us?"

Chris kept his eyes on the road thinking about the question. "Do you want an honest answer?"

"If you can give me one."

"I don't know. The money doesn't matter. I think if Dad had said 'here is some money' and everyone took their share and left it would be easier, though."

"Easier on you. What about Nathan and Buck? Would it be easier on them?"

"You ask hard questions."

"Easy questions I can figure out on my own."

"Nathan's home is here. This will give an excuse to come home."

"What about Buck?"

"Buck needs to play brother," Chris said, thinking 'and with luck, he will latch onto one of the others and let me go and then I can leave knowing he won't be alone.'

"He seems pretty sincere to me."

"He is," Chris looked over at Josiah, quickly turning his eyes back on the road not bothering to finish his explanation aloud. 'Josiah, Buck wants to save the world, save me. I can't get him to understand that I don't want to be saved.' That was too personal and brother or not he had only met this man a few hours ago.

"What are you going to do about Ezra?"

"I don't know. Nathan has a point; I can't just kidnap him. I don't even know if I want him on the ranch. If he's doing something illegal he could destroy us all."

"Let him go then. Accept that he doesn't want to be with us and let him go."

"No. That's not an option."

After a brief pause Josiah changed the subject. "I met him once you know."

"Who? Standish?"

Josiah shook his head, "No, not him. Our father."

"And?"

"He and you are cut from the same cloth, I think."

"How so?"

"The best I can remember, you look like him, but the real resemblance is in the way you act."

Chris didn't know how to respond to that so he asked, "How did you meet him?"

"I'd been pestering Mama about my father for weeks. Contrary to what people said I knew Mom knew him and where he lived. Wouldn't let her have a minute's peace. My grandfather was away, otherwise I would not have said anything, but I had a hunger, a longing to understand why the other kids had fathers and I didn't. One morning she woke me up early and told me to come on. We got in the truck and drove all day until we came to this roadside diner. I didn't want to go in, we were Mexicans and I'd seen the results of people going in where they weren't wanted and though I was big for my age I knew I couldn't take on grown men if they came after mama. You won't believe it looking at me, but she was beautiful. Not movie star beautiful, but beautiful just the same. We sat down and then a man, tall, blond and golden from the sun sat down across from us. He had this aura about him, a confidence. He was a man that owned any room he walked into. He took Mama's hand and I knew, just knew, who he was.

"Mama said, 'Josiah, hijo, este es su padre. Talk and I will be back to get you.' We talked for a while and then mama was back and he was hugging me, telling me good-bye."

When it became apparent that Josiah was not going to volunteer any more information, Chris did what he usually did not do and asked "Do you resent him for not being there for you?"

"No." Josiah turned to look out the window thinking, 'What can I say Chris, father was white and my mother was a Mexican woman fighting for the rights of migrant farm workers? How could she explain to her supporters that she had a child by a white man ten years her junior? That knowing that his daughter had not been raped and had seduced a sixteen-year-old child would kill my grandfather or push him further into the fires of religious fervor. I know mama, seduce is too strong a word. Just as I know that you fell in love with that sixteen-year-old man-child. I could see that when you looked at him when we were leaving and I heard it in your voice when you whispered 'Vaya con Dios, my love. Go home to your wife and child.' So Chris, you see it would have never worked.'

_______________________________________________________________

JD wondered if his embarrassment could get any more complete. It had seemed like a good idea when he had said that he would help Buck do the grocery shopping. Certainly, it had seemed better than sitting in that car listening to Chris be quiet. Growing up he had felt sorry for kids who lived with a lot of yelling. He had always thought that it would be a very bad thing to be yelled at. Now he knew that being silenced at was worse. It had started with something Nathan said to Chris, he hadn't heard what, but he felt Chris's anger instantly and from where he sat squished between Buck and Josiah he could see the white knuckled grip on the steering wheel. Oh, he had been young and foolish then, he remembered thinking about how glad he was that Chris wasn't the yelling type.

Five minutes of quiet had him sweating; fifteen minutes had him willing to confess to anything to get it to stop. Buck had talked over the quiet, but it was still there and you could tell that Buck didn't like it any more than he did. It had gone on and on until they pulled up into the shopping center parking lot and he had volunteered to help Buck shop while Nathan looked for medicine and stuff and Chris and Josiah went to check them out of their hotel rooms.

'It had been a good idea,' he told himself that over and over. At the time he had not been able to conceive of anything worse than sitting in that car with Chris. Now he could. Now he understood that look that Chris had given him.

Buck was a maniac when he shopped. They had started out with the beer and then had moseyed, Buck's word not his, on over to the soft drinks then back to the beer and then over to the dairy aisle for two gallons of milk, butter and 3 cartons of 'be-careful-of-the-eggs-they-break JD', as though he were an idiot. Then another trip back to the beer for another six pack, chips and more chips, and then back to the dairy aisle for dip and on every aisle and in between aisles it was either a 'Hey sweet thing how are you doing,' or a hug and a kiss for every woman he met.

Then on the canned goods aisle JD discovered that Buck threw cans, he did not gently toss them so that JD could put them in the cart, but lobbed them like a foot ball and JD was certain that Buck was going to kill someone with one of those throws and that somehow he would be the one that people blamed; people liked Buck too much to find fault with his behavior.

JD looked at the over flowing cart and considered banging his head against the handle, surely it couldn't hurt any less than the headache he was getting. Buck was talking with, surprise here, another girl so JD took the opportunity to try and rearrange things and catch his breath. Twice already he had suggesting getting a second cart and both times Buck had said that there was plenty of room. Did he not have eyes?

Tuning Buck and his lady friend out JD began to think. What a day. Wake up and find I have six brothers and in a year will be a millionaire. That is good. One brother is in the hospital, not so good. That brother is probably a criminal, very bad. One brother is scary and the one that is friendly is too friendly with, oh, lets estimate -- everyone in the store...and he is crazy on top of being too friendly. Criminal brother, scary brother, crazy brother, not exactly the way to start a new life.

Let's see, what could be more fun than shopping with Buck? Jumping off a really high cliff with no bungee cord, that would be more fun. Being held hostage by a junky with an Uzi and a nervous finger, that would be more fun. Being on a 747 over the Artic Ocean with the pilot and co-pilot unconscious, that would be more fun. Swimming in the Amazon with piranha in a feeding frenzy, that would be more fun. Stopping a train with--

"Come on, kid. Quit dawdling."

"Me. Me!" Oh No! Did his voice just squeak?

"Well you're the one just standing there. We better hurry cause Chris is just pissed enough to make us walk."

"Hurry? I can't believe you are saying that. I haven't been the one talking to everyone, and I do mean everyone, that we see."

"Here put this cereal somewhere." Buck tossed a box over his shoulder.

"Where Buck? Where?" JD stopped and looked at the cart. There was no possible way that it could hold anything more.

"On top there."

"No. We need a new cart," he put his foot down.

"Nonsense. We can't get another cart."

"Why not."

"Two carts is more than a few things. I told Chris that we'd only be a few minutes because we only needed a few things. Besides with Nathan's cart it wouldn't be two carts it would be three. Can't take out that many things to Chris. Didn't you notice the mood he is in?"

"You don't think he will notice that we have more than a few things."

"Not if they are all in one cart."

"Buck, that is just plain crazy." He knew he was yelling, but he couldn't stop himself.

"Look, if we have one cart and we are late we can say that we were stuck in a long line and he can't be angry. More than that means we went shopping and he's going to be ticked off. Do you really want to sit with an angry Chris Larabee for the next forty-five minutes?"

JD stopped and thought and then yelled, "Buck, you are so full of crap!" and then he realized that lots of people were staring at him and that he had just used not so nice language. It wasn't bad language but for Pete's sake he had yelled it in a grocery store with women and children all around and he was new in town and they didn't know that he knew better and one of those manager types were going to descend up on them and ask them to leave. He'd never been asked to leave a store before and now... oh my goodness did he just scream?

"Did I startle you?" Nathan smiled at him. "I'm sorry."

Surely it was a little yelp and not a scream. Girls scream, not guys. I am never going to be able to come to town again. And if I do I will not go anywhere with Buck. "No. I'm fine."

Nathan examined the cart with a critical eye, "Getting a little top heavy there, Buck."

"Now see Nathan that just goes to show you why you had trouble with geometry."

Nathan decided to not touch that line with a ten-foot pole. No telling where Buck would take it. "Buck, we need bread. You go get it while JD and I get the vegetables. No. Come back here. You loaded that cart up, you take care of it."

For two aisles neither man talked as Nathan pulled things off the shelf and handed them to JD or placed them in his nearly empty cart himself. Finally, JD asked, "Is he always like that?"

"Who, Buck? Buck clowns around a lot, but don't ever think he's a fool. Cause he isn't. He's sharp as a tack," Nathan eased back on the intensity he knew was in his voice. "Just don't go shopping with him. That man knows everyone and folks will come clear across the store to say hello to him."

"He said Chris would be mad about us taking so much time."

"Chris, nah, Chris knows exactly how long it takes Buck to shop."

"Too long."

"No. Long enough for Chris to get over being angry with me."

JD looked across the store at the long legged man heading towards them, smiling at some people, speaking to others. Maybe he needed to do some more thinking about his brothers.

________________________________________________________________

Chris pulled into the Sleepy Hollow. He winced at the name as he did every time he saw it. Someone had tried to be cute when they named Four Corners' only motel. He wondered if they had ever read the story.

"It looks like fate stepped in and dictated our moves when we made our reservations."

"More likely that this is the only motel in town." Chris smiled. He got out and dug out a couple white plastic cards and handed them to Josiah. "You get your things and then head to Vin or JD's room. I'll run get everyone checked out, see if Ezra was here and catch up with you." He frowned at the money that Josiah dug out of his pocket. "How 'bout we charge this to the ranch's accounts?"

It hadn't taken long to get their things out of the rooms and, no, Ezra was not registered there. He must have stayed at one of the bed and breakfasts that were empty now but stayed busy during tourist season. If he wanted his things then he had better wake up enough to tell them where they were. Chris pulled up alongside the van that Josiah said was his and let the man get out to open the rear of the van. Only a few cars were left on the street and he examined the remaining cars, first finding Vin's truck and then ... and was that a Porsche. A PORSCHE in Four Corners.!!!!! If he were a betting man, he'd bet every last nickel that the car belonged to Standish. He put his car in reverse and pulled in behind Josiah's car. Shouting 'just a minute' he jogged across the street and pulled out the set of keys he had not bothered to look at. Bingo. He opened the car and looked in. The back seat had been folded down and held a suitcase and what had to be a laptop computer. He slid onto the silver grey leather driver's seat and studied the controls for a moment until he found what would be the trunk release. He popped it.

"Do you know how much these things cost?" he asked Josiah who had joined him in examining the car.

"How much?"

"I don't know. Buck will. Buck is going to be beside himself when he sees this. There is no way that Buck will let Ezra leave once he sees this car. He'll wrap his arms around it and not let go," he smirked at the thought as he got out to walk around the car and kick the tires so to speak. Buck would kill him if he saw him actually kicking anything on this car.

"I take it our Brother Buck likes cars," Josiah filed another bit of trivia about his brothers away.

"He and Dad. Get him to show you his Mustang. A '67 red convertible. A real beauty. He and Dad fixed it up. Has her named and everything," Chris stepped away from the car looking it over. It was a beautiful piece of machinery and if Buck got behind the wheel they wouldn't see Buck until he'd made a quick run up to Canada or something. 'Just wanted to check her out Chris. Listen to her purr.' Beautiful cars were just as intoxicating to Buck as beautiful women, just as intoxicating and just as irresistible.

"Think he has insurance?" Josiah interrupted his thoughts.

"Check his glove compartment, if he doesn't it's staying put."

Josiah slid into the driver's seat and leaned across to open the glove compartment. "Interesting." Josiah passed a handgun to Chris.

Chris cursed softly under his breath as he took the gun. Somehow he doubted that Ezra was planning on heading to the firing range after the meeting with the judge. He wondered what his brother was involved with and since he had a gun why hadn't he used it to protect himself.

Josiah held up a clear plastic envelope he had pulled from the glove compartment. Opening it he found the car registration, the car's insurance information and a permit issued be the State of Nevada allowing him to carry a concealed gun. He passed the envelope to Chris, "At least its all legal."

"Is there a holster in there?" Chris asked. Did he carry the gun hidden under his clothes or did he just keep it in the glove compartment?

Josiah shook his head not with bothering rechecking, then pulled himself out of the car, "Must have hurt getting out of here. Wonder why he didn't say anything?"

"I wonder what he does to own something like this."

_______________________________________________________________

Vin flipped through the magazine, it was a woman's magazine, one that the nurse Angie Delaney, had dropped off along with a cheeseburger and coke. He could have done without the magazine and eaten another cheeseburger, but didn't complain; she had been real thoughtful bringing him those things.

When Chris called he would tell him not to come all the way back to the hospital just to feed him. He grinned at the thought of his brothers and the ruckus that they had made getting it all sorted out; he was fairly sure one of the reasons he had been fed was so that Chris would not come back.

It hadn't started as an argument; it had begun as a simple discussion as to which of them was going to stay with Ezra and how they were going to get everyone and everyone's cars and things back to the ranch. The only thing that they all agreed on was that in light of all the suspicious death of their father at this hospital that someone needed to stay with Ezra. All of them except Ezra that was, and his opinion hadn't counted as he was too zonked to be coherent. Through hooded eyes, Ezra had vehemently protested his stay in the hospital and the need for a jailer.

While everyone had tried to reason with Ezra, if it could be called reasoning, the kid had stepped out into the hall and pretended that he didn't know any of them, which he really didn't. Ezra had gotten really loud and had been struggling to sit up when a nurse came in. She had told Ezra to go back to sleep and let her handle things. He had said something, but between the Morphine and his accent no one was quite sure what and it had been agreed that it was probably best not to decipher that particular sentiment.

Then, on Nathan's strong suggestion that they argue elsewhere, they had gone outside, leaving a thoroughly embarrassed JD to sit with Ezra. Nathan had wanted to stay the night, but Buck informed him that he didn't believe that Ezra was too happy with Nathan at the moment and it might be better if he stayed away until the man calmed down. Buck then informed Nathan that he really needed to improve on his bedside manner and then Nathan launched into Chris once again how he couldn't bring Ezra back to the ranch against his will. Conversation could have degenerated at that point, but Chris told everyone to shut up; and everyone had done just that. It got sorted out: Buck would get food, Nathan would get the medical supplies, Josiah and Chris would get everyone checked out of the motel; and he would stay with Ezra. Before heading out to the ranch someone would call and find out if he needed anything. When they had walked back into the hospital he felt lots of eyes on him and his brothers; they needed to make a point in keeping their arguments away from prying ears. He had stolen a look at Chris who had surprised him by looking back at him; his face said it all. No more yelling in hospitals.

Every one of them apologized for making him stay, as though he were making some sacrifice by staying. He didn't see it that way. He'd much rather be here than cooped up in a car with the rest of them. 'No offense brothers, but a few of you are too big for cars; you take all the room and all the air and then complain when a fellow tries to get himself some fresh air.'

He was just fine where he was. Besides it wasn't as though he knew the area well enough to go chauffeuring people around, yet. He pulled his jacket off the room's other chair and took a couple maps out of the pocket. One was a map of the state and the other of the county; he had picked that one up at the little red house that served as the Chamber of Commerce. It had been easy to locate, sitting scrunched between Gloria's Gifts and Harding's Automotive and had still been open when he rode down Main Street looking for Judge Travis's office yesterday evening. He had talked to the lady behind the counter, paid $1.00 for the map and another four dollars for the beautifully photographed postcards of Historic Four Corners and two king sized bags of M &M's. He had tucked the postcards in his glove compartment so that he would have a reminder of the place his father had lived in and scarfed down both bags of candy before finding the motel a mile outside of town.

After checking in, he crossed the street to eat supper at a filled to capacity little diner that boasted that it had the best food in town. It wasn't the best, Inez's ribs were some of the best he'd ever eaten and he was from Texas, but the prices were cheap and he wasn't too fussy about what he ate and last night he hadn't known about Inez's. As long as it didn't moo or squawk when he pierced it with a fork, he reckoned it was edible.

He remembered seeing both Josiah and JD at the diner and wondered if they had noticed him. Josiah maybe, but he doubted whether JD saw much of anything other than that book he had his nose stuck in. He thought he had seen a horse on the cover so it was probably a western. Hope the kid wasn't filling his head with fool notions of what the west was like. Those books, too often, had it wrong.

He'd also noticed a group of men in a corner that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. They weren't wearing signs that said 'we are bad men, beware'. But most bad men didn't bother to wear signs; they let their actions speak for themselves. He had buried himself in the menu and then while waiting for his fried chicken, he had pulled out his map and while pretending to study it, he kept his ears open. He hadn't learned much other than the men had no use for any man whose color of skin was not white and only one use for women of any color. They hadn't done anything other than talk big, but he got the feeling that these men were not just the types to talk.

Leaning back in his chair he considered his options regarding those men. Nothing he could do about them now, but if he were planning to stay in town for it might be a good idea to ferret out who they were and what they had planned. Men like that did not peacefully co-exist and he'd bet his last penny that they were up to no good. Maybe he should talk to the sheriff, find out what he knew and he should probably mention it to his brothers, definitely talk to Chris.

He glanced over at the bed; it had taken a while after the last nurse had come in and checked on Ezra, but the man had finally fallen back asleep, although he was twitching too much for it to be a restful slumber. He shrugged, it had been Ezra's choice not to take the medicine and he'd have to live with the consequences. He hoped he saw Nathan's face when he learned that Ezra had refused his pain-killer. Nathan had been right unhappy with Ezra's attitude about being in the hospital, something about not knowing what was good for him. He, himself, had never been in a hospital and the only time he had ever had to go to the doctor were the times when he had gone to get his vaccinations and those weren't anything to whine about. He guessed he'd been lucky: He had made it through childhood without any broken bones or surgeries. The one time he's had to have stitches, the doctor had done it in his office and it had been kind of neat. He had gone to school the next day and shown all his friend the cut along side his hairline; he had told them that he had almost been scalped by an Indian on the way home from school. Anyway, he didn't understand the fuss Ezra was making; he'd ask him about it when he woke up.

He turned his attention back to the map of Four Corners and soon lost himself in the names of roads. He loved maps. They told riveting stories of water cascading from high atop mountains running along valleys and then moving off to the sea. Maps told of long ago volcanoes that formed mountains and glaciers that carved the mountains and then stopped their southerly travels to form lakes. Maps spoke volumes of man's exploration of his world.

Once he'd been in a junk store, waiting on a man to come out of a drug store; he'd almost lost his man because he had become engrossed in a hand drawn map of a gold mine. That map had been put in a little black wood frame and was offered up for sale at fifty dollars. The old man that had sold him the map had been right careful to make sure that he understood that though the map was old it offered no frame of reference needed for locating a mine that probably was just some worthless hole in the ground. He hadn't cared. He had bought the thing because of the story it told.

Over the course of the evening he memorized the map of the county. He'd been interrupted once by a phone call from Chris. He'd told the man that he was fine, Ezra was sleeping and yes he had gotten supper. He may have been a little short with his brother, but Chris hadn't seemed to mind and so he had hung up the room's phone and returned to the map. This time tomorrow and he could go pretty much anywhere in the county and not get lost.

He hoped he would get the chance to stop at a fire station or hunting supply store before heading out to the ranch so that he could pick up a topography map of the area. He made a note to check the library and see what they had. Amazing what wonders those building held and how pleased librarians were when they were asked to help locate something. No telling what he could find in a library.

"Want some water?" he asked the two green eyes that had blinked open and were staring at him.

"What aruh you doing heruh?" he asked when his brain finally got it into gear enough for him to place a name to the face.

"Sitting with ya."

"Why?"

"Ya were being a pain in the ass, so someone had to stay and make sure ya didn't make any of the nurses cry."

"Ah have nevuh made anyone cry."

"Never in your entire life?"

"Maybe once or twice, but certainly not often enough to justify you making that assumption about me."

"Ya want some water?"

"What time is it?" He wondered how he managed to hurt more than when he had come in. He considered calling the nurses' desk for something to relieve the pain, but decided that on second thought, after the noise he'd made in rejecting the second dose of morphine that they'd probably laugh at him. Besides he needed to think. He was in a mess and needed to figure a way out.

"It's a little after eleven."

"Isn't that past visiting hours."

"After doing such a thorough job of making a horse's ass out of yerself, the nurses asked that one of us stay."

"And you got elected. Ah am sorry. Ah have intruded on your plans to reunite with your long lost family. Mah apologies."

"Yer family too."

Thinking that feigning sleep might rid him of the man, Ezra moved his arm so that the crook of his elbow covered his face, but that proved incredibly uncomfortable. Perhaps it was best to lie incredibly still until after the man left and then he could get out of bed and work some of the stiffness out of his body. The dangling tube caught his eye and he followed its path to the back of his hand. Damn, just like a hospital to put things in you that you really didn't want. He moved his leg, feeling a second tube move across his leg. No doubt about it, that one had to go. He must have really been out of it to allow them to put those things in him.

"You may leave now."

"Reckon I don't have a place I need to be."

"Aren't you going out to the ranch?"

"In the morning, when ya go."

"Mr. Tanner Ah think Ah have made mahself clear. You have bettuh things to do and Ah do not need you heruh. Doesn't it bothuh you that ah do not wish you heruh?"

"Not in the slightest."

Ezra searched the blue eyes. Finally, he sighed and settled in his bed and asked, "You are not leaving, no matter what Ah say or do, aruh you?"

"Nope."

"Turn your back for a moment then."

"Why?" Vin asked even as he turned around.

"Deniability."

Vin heard movement and a soft hiss of pain, but he did as he was asked and stayed facing the window. "Ya finished?" he asked. He had a feeling what Ezra had just done and really couldn't blame him.

"Just a moment."

He heard more rustling and a genuine grunt of pain, Ezra must have moved too sharply and irritated his ribs. "Want me to get someone?" he asked with a smile.

"Not ... necessary. Ahh shit, pardon me, but that hurt."

"Ya sure."

"Just let me catch mah breath. Oh, you can turn around if you so desire."

Vin turned and the smirk left his face at the sight of blood dripping between the fingers of Ezra's hand clamped over his forearm. "Do ya need a nurse?" he asked.

"If you get a nurse they will only want to put them back in and Ah don't care to have to repeat mahself."

Ezra took a peak at his hand. It was amazing that such a little wound should leak so profusely, but it seemed to have slowed. Deciding to make use of his sitter, he asked, "Would you mind getting a cloth so that Ah might wash?"

"I'll get it, but I will call the nurse if it doesn't quit bleeding in a minute."

"Nonsense, the first question will be is why did you just stand there and watch him do that?"

"What happened to deniability?"

"If you tattle, Ah will have no choice but to make you mah accomplice."

Vin shrugged, he would probably do the same. There was something about nurses in their white uniforms that were intimidating. Vin walked over to the counter and searched through the paraphernalia for a couple of alcohol swabs. Tearing open the package he dabbed at the bloody fingers and said, "Ya know, they will check on ya."

"With any luck, it will be in the early hours of the morning and it will be fait accompli and they will have the sense to allow me to rest," Ezra replied taking the second swab from Vin Tanner's hand. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of the alcohol; he wished the man had gotten a wash rag.

Vin raised his eyebrows at the unfamiliar words, but since he deciphered Ezra's meaning he did not ask questions and filed the words away until a time he could examine them more closely. While Ezra dabbed at the blood on his arm obviously careful of the bruising, Vin glanced down at the now ruined catheter. Ezra had tied off the end with a simple knot, preventing leakage of the contents; he had tied the same knot into the IV tubing.

"Ah do not understand how our society can place such obvious sadists on such high pedestals."

"Are ya hurting."

Ezra chose to ignore such an asinine question and concentrated on finding a way to position himself that offered some relief for his backside without giving his ribs too many reasons to complain. After a couple of minutes he found that perhaps the best move was to just not move.

"So, ya ready to talk?"

"On what subject do you wish to converse?" Ezra frowned as Vin propped his feet up on the bed and leaned dangerously far back in the straight back institutional chair.

"Let's start with oh... let me ... see ... How about why ya acted like a ninny about going to the hospital?"

"Obviously you do not keep abreast of current events," he sighed dramatically and paid for his theatrics with a bolt of pain that ran across his chest. When the elephant decided to get off of him so that he could breathe, he began again without acknowledging Vin's look of concern. "Do you realize the sheer number of virulent infectious diseases that run rampant in these institutions of medical quackery?" he cocked an eyebrow at Vin, barely turning his head to get a better look at the man.

"Do ya realize the number of people that get helped here?"

"That is the spiel that the medical profession wants you to believe. The reality is that this is a giant petri dish for bacteria waiting to take over the world after having turned our bodies into sludge."

"Yer getting helped here."

"Nonsense. Ah am getting treated here. They have done nothing to make me better, it can be argued that they have made me worse."

"How's that?"

"Since being here, Ah have been poked and prodded enough to have a new set of bruises to match the ones Ah already had. Those leaches have stuck holes in me to get my blood out and have stuck more holes in me to put other stuff in," he glanced up at the IV poles. "Worse, they have abused mah body by putting things where things were not meant to go."

Vin looked at Ezra for a moment. That had been spoken in such a sincere forthright manner he almost believed that Ezra believed that and was maybe more than a little off. Then he saw the tiniest of glints in his brother's eyes and knew better. He laughed, "Ya ain't gonna tell me a thing are ya."

"Mr. Tanner, I thought we discussed your appalling choice of words."

Vin leaned back in his chair not realizing how far out of Ezra's line of sight he was moving. "I reckon I might not have yer schooling, but at least people can understand me."

Ezra winced as Vin's barb struck him hard. What schooling? He rolled in the bed to glare at Vin. "You have understood my every word," he growled through the pain that the unwise move caused.

"Do ya want me to go get a nurse?"

"For God's sake no," Ezra hissed. He eased back down on the bed. He knew his eyes were watering from that move and it embarrassed him not to be able to deal with his pain better. "Ah take it you have never had broken ribs before."

"I've been shot at."

"Ever hit?"

"No, I have better sense than to get shot."

"So do Ah."

"But not enough sense not to piss of people capable of beating the shit out of you."

"It happens."

"It's happened before?"

"Ah didn't say that. "

"No, you didn't." Vin studied the man on the bed, letting the silence thicken around them.

"So what do you do that people shoot at you?" Ezra asked; he couldn't stand silence and usually filled it with the meaningless chatter that he had perfected over the years. He was just too sore to do that now and would have to get Tanner to do the talking.

"Take bad guys to jail."

"You're a cop?" he couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice.

"Nope. I go after the folks that skip out on their bail."

"I see ... and the danger appeals to you?"

"The chase does... figuring out where a person will go ...who would they turn too...finding them." Vin stopped talking, he really didn't know this person from Adam.

The silence between them grew again. Ezra rolled his eyes trying to see Tanner; he did not repeat his mistake of sudden movement. "Aruh you asleep?"

"No, but you should be."

"Nonsense, the night is my element."

"Yer not a vampire are ya?"

No, but once, in N'awlins, I saw some."

"Lots of kids are into that."

"These kids weruh older than you."

"Being a kid is a state of innocence."

"Like John David."

"JD. Remember?"

"Is that what he wants to be called?"

"Yep. I think he does." Vin leaned forward back into Ezra's range of vision. "So, ya gonna to tell me what the lesson was about?"

"Lesson?" Ezra frowned, then remembered what he had told Buck. "Oh, yes, that lesson. Simply put, be careful with whom you play poker."

"Ya owe him money," Vin stated, satisfied that he had this one mystery solved.

"Nevuh," Ezra glared at Vin and his false assumption. "He was a very poor player who did not know when to leave the table."

"So how much did you take him for?"

"His share of the pots Ah won ...around 55,000 dollars."

Vin arched on eyebrow, but did not whistle, "Weren't no nickel and dime pots, then. So what do ya do to make the kind of money that lets ya play those games?"

"Ah am a gambluh. Ah gamble." He waited for a remark denigrating his profession and was surprised when it did not come.

"So he's pissed that ya took his money and what, follows ya down here and gets his money back."

"Ah left, he followed and seeing as he had assistants the size of Kong Ah handed ovuh mah winnings. Mr. Tanner as lovely as this conversation has been Ah must ask you to leave the room."

"Why?"

The dunce, why does he think? "Ah have to make a call of nature."

"How are ya going to manage that?"

"Carefully," he looked at the incredulous look Vin was giving him. "The bathroom is ovuh there. Ah plan on using it. Ah can not do so with you in the room."

"Ya can't do it at all. Ya got broken ribs. I'll get a nurse."

"Ah am not using a bed pan," he glared at Vin. "You forget Ah was doing fine this morning. If Dr. Jackson had not pulled me off mah feet--"

"It would have been something else then and he did not pull ya off yer feet. Ya fainted."

"Ah did no such thing!" He placed his hand over his broken bones (Why the hell hadn't they wrapped them???) and sat up. "If you please, suh Ah must attend these mattuhs and Ah wish for you to vacate the room."

Vin rubbed at his lower lip and considered his options and Ezra's strength. "If I go and stretch my legs for a bit, do I have yer word that ya will get back in bed when ya finish?"

"You do."

"Ten minutes?"

"Bettuh make it fifteen."

"Okay, I'll get a coke, want something?"

"Ah appreciate the offer, but Ah do not care for a thing." Mr. Tanner, how did you ever make a living at hunting down bad guys? You are far too trusting. This is a lesson that you will be the better for having learned while still young enough for it to sink in. Never believe anyone.

Ezra used the bathroom and washed his hands and his face. Now, to find his clothes. A quick search revealed his wallet and watch in the bedside stand and his clothes in a plastic bag in a small closet, his shoes next to them. He leaned against the wall. Damn it, this was taking to much time and he felt as though his brain was encased in quicksand. Think, Ezra, think.

All right they had his car key but not his car. They could open the door, but not turn over the motor unless they knew the password. That neat little gadget had cost him a bundle, but if it kept them from moving his car then it was worth it. If he could get to his car then he could get the hell out of Dodge before they came and took him away to that cow-ranch-place.

The problem was getting his clothes on without alerting any of the nurses; he didn't feel like arguing. Then he needed transportation. He'd go find an empty room to change in before Mr. Tanner returned, one less person to explain things to, and be out of the place before anyone noticed. He pulled his watch on and checked the time. He had better move a little faster than he was if he wanted out. He slipped his shoes on and didn't try to tie them; he would do that later, carrying them seemed like too much work. Then he picked up the bag with his clothes in it-couldn't someone have hung them up; they were hopelessly wrinkled. Still he was fortunate to have them. Overly enthusiastic staff members had wanted to cut the clothes off him. Luckily he had been able to prevent that.

Okay, quit pampering yourself. You need to hurry. Step one, get clothes on. Step two, find a ride. If it came to it he could visit the parking lot, but he'd rather hitch a ride. It would be bad form to borrow a vehicle when you've used your real name; misunderstandings about cars could lead to jail time. He pushed off from the wall, walked to the door, listened for movement and opened it to see Vin standing there.

"I ain't too stupid, little brother," with gentle hands he turned Ezra around. "Drop them clothes and hop back into bed before I call a nurse to check on ya."

"First, if you must insist on calling me brothuh, remembuh Ah am the elder and therefore it is you who aruh the little brothuh."

"I wasn't talking about age I was talking about size and ya are the little brother. If I was talking about age I would have said older brother." He helped Ezra onto the bed and then glared at him. "You lied to me."

"Ah was merely going to stretch mah limbs."

"You lied. I trusted ya and ya lied."

"Obviously, you didn't trust me too much."

"Why did ya lie?"

"Ah wanted out of heruh."

"I thought we went through this."

"Go to hell." He was through talking to the man. He was tired and he was hurting and he would deal with his own demons by himself.

"Why do ya want to leave so badly? Didn't ya hear when Chris said he was having the hospital send yer bill to the ranch? There ain't any need for ya to sneak out of here in the middle of the night."

"Ahm tired and need to sleep." He closed his eyes. He knew he was acting like a baby on several counts. But he had no way to explain. The thought of hospitals and their sick and dying and dead people terrified him. He got lost in a hospital and had trouble remembering what was then and what is now. He tried to hide from the ghosts of his past, but he couldn't.

When he closed his eyes he saw sheet shrouded gurneys with tiny blue tinged hands dangling off them and the color red dotting the white linen sheets and red fingernail polish on those tiny hands and he could hear the people. All around him he could hear disembodied voices, some crying, some screaming in pain so deep and raw that everyone knew that there souls had been ripped apart. The voices, all of them were saying it was his fault, he was the one that had kicked the ball and the people began screaming at him, telling him how bad he was and why couldn't he have been the one that died? And he could see Uncle Roger in from his construction site, heading toward him and the grieving father would pick him up and throw him across the room. He could remember hitting the wall and the sound of his arm snapping. And he remembered that she hadn't moved through any of it; she just lay there under that sheet and it was his fault that his little cousin Bethany would not play with anyone again.

Eyes opened or closed, he saw, remembered, that awful afternoon. He watched behind his eyelids as the white walls oozed blood and the normal noises of the hospital merged with those of his memory. He could still hear the crying in the waiting room and the voices of the doctors and the nurses working on his arm. He remembered how they were talking about how he was Maude Standish's bastard and how he probably didn't even know his own father and how bad seed comes from bad seed. He remembered that when they pulled his arm back into place they told him to quit crying and he remembered the sounds of sirens filling the air and someone patted his knee and told him to wait and then everyone took off running. He waited, he did, but no one came back and so he got up and walked out to the empty waiting room. His aunt was gone and his uncle was gone and his great aunt was gone and he didn't know where his Mom was and he didn't know what to do, so he left too.

He had left that place with the little, dead cousin, but he couldn't ever escape the voices telling him he was bad. He didn't need them to tell him that. He knew; good boys have moms who are there and they have fathers and they get tucked in at night and they get kisses for doing good in kindergarten and they have a room to call their own even if they have to share it. Good boys remembered not to kick the ball into the street; they remembered that cars can crunch and bump over little cousins. He knew he was bad, had known it everyday of his life, he just didn't like to be reminded of it. And hospitals made him aware all over again that he was not good, that he was bad.

He had just wanted to leave this place so he wouldn't have to listen to the voices.

Vin watched his brother close his eyes and turn his head toward the wall in dismissal. He knew that he had just lost whatever ground he had made after their talking. He probably should have helped him escape he decided as he watched Ezra pretend to sleep.

Part 5

Chris leaned against the porch rail sipping at his cup of black coffee. His mind was not on the rosy sky of dawn and though he did spot the mule deer family watching him from the edge of the pinions, his mind did not register them. He was lost in a jumble of thoughts and memories.

It hurt to be back here, so many memories calling to him. The one that stood out now was of him and his dad debating the necessity of putting a pool in the backyard. It had seemed so necessary when he was ten and he had made every argument he could think of. His dad had remained dead set against it, saying that it would ruin the view. He had been so angry that his father wouldn't listen. One day when he had come home from college he had stood on the back porch and realized that his dad had been right.

Sarah had loved this place, too. When they were dating, not too long before they married and moved into gramps old house and made it their own, she would come here and sit all day with her camera and wait for the perfect shot. Later, after Adam's birth, there had been fewer perfect shots, but many more less perfect and infinitely more precious ones of: a baby taking his first steps to his father, of a toddler chasing a puppy, of Uncle Buck carrying a three year old on his shoulder and Uncle Nate showing him how a stethoscope worked.

Sometimes, he and Sarah would drive up here for dinner or something and when they would leave to go back to their home, Adam asleep in his car seat, she would start talking about the place. She loved it, maybe more than he did. She would hasten to reassure him that she loved her home, but the log and stone home, built when Chris was a baby and expanded over the years, with its meandering halls placed so that a tree wouldn't have to be destroyed or boulder dug up was far more interesting and more photogenic.

She took photos of other things too, one of him when he had poured a pail of water over his head in a desperate attempt to cool off, another of him rocking a colicky baby so that she could get some rest, or the one their son was showing her how big the fish that got away was. She had this ability to catch in black and white the heart of the moment.

His dad had several of her landscapes hanging on the walls, he had many of Adam, sleeping, crawling and running, he had her and Chris's wedding album tucked away in the library. He didn't have any pictures like the one of her laughing as she presented her burned Thanksgiving dinner or the one of her leaning against the corral watching the yearlings kicking up their heals, or the one where she had held her baby for the first time. That one had been almost totally out of focus his hands had shook so bad, but she framed it and had put it on their nightstand. Those pictures were gone, destroyed in the same fire that had destroyed his family, the one that had decimated his life.

He missed her. Her laugh, her walk, the way she'd tilt her head listening to him, the way she looked stepping out of the shower water hanging on her impossibly long eyelashes. The way she would take his hand and lead him into the bedroom and laugh when he would mock protest saying it was the middle of the day and what would the neighbors say. She would laugh at that and ask 'what neighbors', before tackling him and they would fall on the bed.

That day, the one when he had driven home, would be forever etched in his mind. They had seen the smoke from a distance and he had turned to Buck, saying that they needed to check it out after they got the stallion settled. Coming up over the ridge they had been assaulted by the stench and that is when time starting slowing for him. By the time he came upon the smoldering ruins he was seeing thing in a series of snapshots. His brain had been unable to process so much terrible information that it had taken a series of photos to remember that day. He had one shot of the doors to the coroner's station wagon being opened, another of the look on his father's face, another of tears streaking down a fireman's soot covered face and still one more of the two dark plastic bags that he knew, without anyone saying a word, held his Sarah and Adam.

He had become vicious turning on everyone, snapping and snarling. He had said abusive ugly things to his brother and to his father, and in the back of his mind he knew that Sarah in heaven would be shaking her head in disapproval at his angry, hateful words. For her sake, he tried to hold the words back and contain the hate. He couldn't do it. He hated everyone and everything. He hated every morning he woke up and found Sarah was not in his arms. He hated every night that he did not get to tuck his son in bed. He hated beautiful days because they reminded him of her laughter and he hated dreary days because those would have been the ones that she had brightened with her smile. He hated bicycles and baseball gloves and yapping puppies playing fetch with their young owners. He hated minivans with car seats in the back. Most of all he hated himself for living.

He had spent every night of that first awful year in a bottle. Drinking until his money ran out or until Buck showed up to take him home. He said things that he knew hurt Buck and his Dad and if Nathan had been around he would have hurt him also. The second year he had spent drinking and fighting. He knew he had hit Buck on more than one occasion and yet Buck had always come back until one night, he didn't remember what he said or did, but he remembered Buck's face bleeding and bruised and his eyes closed off. He had hit Buck before and Buck had always come back, but he saw those eyes that night and knew that Buck wouldn't be coming back; he'd have to go after Buck.

Thing was that Buck probably thought that his coming back when their dad died meant that he was back for good. It didn't and he did not have the words to explain that to Buck. There was too much emptiness inside him that couldn't be filled and far too many memories that taunted him here. Too many ghosts.

He poured out the coffee that had turned cold, as the sun had begun its journey across the sky. He turned to go in, he'd put his coffee cup in the sink and run down to the corral and check on the horses before breakfast. They needed to get into a routine of getting up and getting moving, but he doubted if today was a good day to begin it. Better let his brothers get settled a bit first.

"You want another cup." Buck asked as Chris came in, letting the door slam behind him.

"Didn't know you were up."

"Thought I'd get a start on the day." Buck shrugged and poured himself his second cup of coffee.

"Why didn't you come out and talk?"

"You didn't look as though you would have appreciated the company." Buck pulled out one of the chairs and sat down. His hands traced patterns in the grain of the massive pine table. "Dad did this himself, didn't want my help except when he needed it moved. It weighs a ton. Made the chairs too. Had his decorator help him decide on the color of the chairs, so that it would look right; patina bronze is what she called the color. I told him that it looked green to me. I couldn't figure why he was doing all this. All those new bedrooms, two new baths, remodeling the kitchen and building this table to seat eight. I mean it was just the two of us and even when there...even when all of us were here we'd usually eat out on the porch." He got up and rinsed his cup out and put in the dishwasher. "I'm going out to check on the horses."

"I was heading there myself."

"Then why don't you go on, I want to look under the hood of the Ford. We're going to need to take some salt out the next day or two and last time I took it out it wasn't shifting gears smoothly."

"Is this going to be an all day job?" Chris tried to tease, but it must have sounded like he was getting on Buck's case, judging by the look on his face.

"No. I just want to look. If it is something major I'll use the Chevy and work on it the Ford later."

He should have said something then. He should have said what he had always said when they were kids doing their chores - that it'd go quicker if they shared them. And it had although more often than not he and Buck had done Nathan's chores too--that boy could not keep his nose out of a book. Thing was, even with all the laughing and clowning the chores had gotten done quicker and they had not seemed so much like chores. He should have said, come help me Buck, he didn't. "I'll see you when you get finished then."

_________________________________________________________________

JD stretched his arms over his head, rolled over and bolted upright when his eyes landed on the clock. Nine!! He had planned to be up hours ago. He had wanted to see everything; the house inside and out, the horses and cows and the winding road they had driven up on. And he had wanted to start the day off by helping. He wasn't a total idiot when it came to horses. He had spent enough summers cleaning out stables for rich people who didn't want to get their hands dirty and exercising their expensive horses that they forgot except on bright, sun shining, weekends. What he didn't know already, he would learn and those older, bigger brothers would never have reason to regret him coming to stay. He could be an asset to the ranch. He just needed to prove it.

Throwing on the only pair of jeans he had brought with him and a red t-shirt and grabbing his boots and a pair of socks, he ran out the room and hit the stairs two at a time. He slowed down when he hit the ground floor, momentarily confused. Buck had given them the three-minute tour when they had finally gotten to the ranch in the late evening, while Nathan had called disappeared to call someone about some meeting in the morning. It had been a brief tour, mainly letting everyone pick a room and showing them the bathrooms. He had grabbed a room on the top floor of the old wing, as Buck had called it, and tossed his luggage on the floor, traded his dress shoes for a pair of hiking boots and headed back down stairs.

They had actually planned to eat in town, Nathan had worried a little about the milk spoiling, but Buck had pointed out that as cold as it was that there was little chance of spoilage and that even the beer might be chilled by the time they reached the ranch. That had been the plan discussed as Buck loaded the trunk -- apparently he had a superior awareness of geometry needed for the proper loading of a trunk and so everyone else had been content to watch the man work. JD had to admit that by the time Buck had everything stowed nothing could slip or be crushed. Chris had leaned against the car door and smirked the whole time, merely shaking his head when Buck asked what was up.

They had driven in friendly silence and a little more comfort back to the rest of the cars as Josiah had chosen to remain with his van. By then it was dark and all the shops and offices looked empty. JD had a rental and spotted it, his eyes not registering anything else, but apparently Buck had as he was shouting 'Oh my God' at the top of his lungs. He had not even waited for Chris to turn the motor off before he was out of the car and across the street and with reverent fingers and worshipping eyes was examining a little green car parked almost directly in front of the Judge's office.

"Chris do you see this?"

"Yes, Buck I see it."

"This is a Porsche. A Porsche 911. This is Ezra's isn't it? I knew there was a reason I liked that boy. Do you know how fast this baby can go?"

"Can't go anywhere Buck."

Buck stopped his circling of the car and looked across the hood at Chris. "What did you do to it?" his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"I didn't do anything to it. Ezra has some antitheft device on it"

Buck was around the car and in the driver's seat before Chris could finish his explanation. "This is good," he crouched down on the pavement next to the driver's seat. A moment later he looked up and said, "I'm better."

Close to thirty minutes later Buck could be heard singing a really raunchy song as he talked to his 'sweet baby'. He was on one side of the street and they were on the other; they had been banished to sit in Josiah's van when the older man had passed out cigars. Only Chris had accepted, but Buck, worried that Chris or Josiah might inadvertently damage the car had sent them away. Nathan and JD took turns jogging across the street to check on his progress.

Once a sheriff's car had stopped and a balding, pot-belly Sheriff had come around to the driver's side of the car and talked to Buck; JD had felt grey hair sprouting all along his head when Buck had answered the sheriff's question of 'what you up to Buck' with 'removing this sweet baby's anti theft device.' He hadn't been arrested on the spot and the sheriff had walked across the street to talk to Chris. Whatever Chris had said, must have done the trick because the sheriff had walked back, shook his hand, introduced himself as Mitch Harris, and welcomed him to town before driving off.

Chris had finished his smoke and gone back over to Buck. "Buck, the rest of us are getting hungry. You planning on being long?"

"Chris, good buddy, you know some things in life can't be hurried. Why don't you take the boys and get some pizza. I'll catch up."

"Catch up Buck, not beat us there. You hear me," Chris warned.

"Yeah. Yeah I hear you," Buck answered distractedly.

Chris called ahead so the pizza would be waiting, but Buck still managed to beat them to the ranch and was wiping off the hood with a soft cloth when they pulled up beside him.

"Won't get the ladies like my Betty Lou, but she is a beaut," he all but bounced on the balls of his feet, happiness evident in his every move.

"Buck, give me those keys," Nathan snapped. "It isn't enough that I have one brother in hospital. Here you are racing up these curves at night. Are you stupid? Chris, did you drop him on his head when he was a baby? "

"Leave me out of it. I'm going to warm up the pizzas."

"Now Nate, I just wanted to see how she ran. I tell you she practically flew. Hugged those curves like nothing you've ever seen," if he thought he was making Nathan feel better he was mistaken.

Nathan threw the keys to Josiah "Put these somewhere for Ezra. Preferably, out of Buck's sight. I'm going to call Emmett Griggs," he growled as he stormed into the house. The rest of them had unpacked the car and by the time they had finished the tour of the house, given by a surprisingly subdued Buck, Chris was hollering to come eat.

And so they had eaten in silence as they had at lunch. Except then the silence had been caused by hungry men wanting to eat and this silence owed its existence to tension between Buck and Nathan. Buck explained that he had left almost as soon as they did and that he hadn't driven that fast, but Nathan was having none of it and had eaten in stony silence. If it hadn't been for the smile that Josiah had given him, the one that said don't worry, JD wasn't sure if he could have made it through the meal. As soon as he had finished and rinsed his plate off he had excused himself saying he was tired and heading to bed.

At least they had all said good night to him as he had trudged out of the kitchen. Exhausted from the events of the day he watched the minutes and then hours tick away on the little bedside alarm clock, his thoughts, combined with the unfamiliar silence after a lifetime in the city, worked to keep him awake.

His mind raced with all the discoveries of the day. He ran his brothers names over his tongue testing them out. He could put faces with names and his Mom was right Chris was like King Arthur, royal and commanding. And if Chris was King Arthur was Buck the loyal Sir Kay running the castle for his brother or was he the fool entertaining the King? Josiah had to be the wise and mysterious Merlin offering sage advice. So which brother was Lancelot and of course where did he fit in, in this Camelot?

Visions of Chris, on a horse as black as night, waiting with his knights spread out beside him for some enemy hidden in the fog were his last thoughts as Morpheus dragged him into his realm; that and the promise that he'd begin the day early.

Coming down the stairs, he felt humiliated that he had slept so late and he was angry with himself. After only one day he had broken his promise to show these guys he belonged, no matter that he'd made it only to himself. He really wanted them to like him and not feel as though they had gotten stuck with him. He slowed down even further dragging his bare feet along the wood floors, suddenly reluctant to face his brothers. Yesterday everyone had been running on adrenaline. No one had slowed down and talked things out. What if Chris and Buck didn't want any help running the ranch and they resented his presence?

Running a nervous hand through his hair, he braved the kitchen. Chris sat at the table talking on the phone and intent on his conversation did not look up as JD entered the room. JD, relieved that he didn't have to face Chris, turned to Josiah standing at the island and cooking a mountain of bacon. "Sorry I over slept," JD apologized.

The big man awarded JD with a noncommittal grunt; his attention riveted on the sizzling bacon. "The trick to keep it from burning is careful observation," he said as he speared a slice and laid it on a paper towel to drain.

"Where is everyone?" JD asked.

"Buck's still down working on a truck and Nathan's on the other end of the phone." Josiah snagged another piece of bacon and flipped it just before it started burning. "How do you want your eggs?"

JD eyed the large bowl of whisked eggs and answered, "Scrambled is fine."

"Good cause that is the only kind I make," Josiah grinned. "Why don't you start opening some of these cabinets and seeing if you can find plates and get the table set. Forks and knives are in that drawer by the dish washer."

JD found the plates and began setting the table. His mother would have put placemats down, but he figured that, even if he knew where placemats were, that they'd probably look ridiculous on this table. Chris moved an elbow out of his way and mouthed 'morning' at him and pointed to a cabinet. JD opened it and found the salt and pepper shakers as well as the sugar bowl.

"Bless you Josiah, this smells wonderful," Buck's voice boomed in the quiet room as he entered the room. "Let me wash up and I'll help." He disappeared behind a door, but his voice could be heard over running water, "JD, Get some of Miss Nettie's preserves out of the pantry."

Chris, who had hung up and was busy pouring coffee, pointed towards the door next to the refrigerator. "Third shelf on the left, I think."

JD opened the door, "Buck."

"Yeah."

"Come here please."

Buck puzzled by the tone of JD's voice went to stand beside him in the pantry. "Can't find the preserves?" he asked.

"I found those just fine," JD glanced around the room, not some little cabinet. Shelves lined two walls and a freezer the third. Enough food was in the pantry to stock a small grocery store.

"Then what?" Buck was really puzzled.

"Last night you said we didn't have any food. I pushed a cart with food stacked taller than me around the store because you said we didn't have any food. Look! There is enough food to feed an army in there," he yelled at his brother.

"JD, that's not food, that's supplies."

JD stood glaring at Buck before huge hands grabbed his shoulders and propelled him to the table. "Time to eat," Josiah said.

This morning they did not eat in silence and between bites of biscuits piled high with preserves Buck explained the necessity of keeping the pantry well stocked during the winter months. "Living out here is not like living in town. We are pretty far out. Sometimes we can't just run to the store to get a few things. I would like to say that we could depend on Nathan being able to pick us up things on his way home from the clinic, but knowing Nate we might not see him for days if he gets busy. We don't get much snow, not this far down in the valley, but there are times when its best not to be driving and during those times you had best have plenty of food on hand."

JD nodded in understanding. Buck made sense and more importantly he wasn't talking down to him. His eyes showed only serious consideration and JD could feel a chill of apprehension --- this was so very different than living in the city. What if he couldn't handle it?

Buck turned to include the other men in his conversation. "We need to check our inventory and stock up. No telling when we'll get some weather."

"You want to do that this morning?" Chris asked.

"I'm gonna take JD out riding first, see how he does. You want to come, Josiah?"

"No, I want to take a walk around first, then I'll get started on looking at our supplies."

"That ok with you kid?" Buck looked at him suddenly concerned that he'd made the plans and that maybe JD didn't want to come. He hurried to explain, "We need to look for Jack. That's Dad's dog. Use to follow Dad everywhere," his voice broke and he got up and walked over to the coffee pot, pouring himself another cup.

"That was Nathan on the phone," Chris said to give Buck some time to compose himself. "He left early to take Vin some breakfast and check on Ezra before heading to his meeting with Judge Travis."

"How are our brothers?" Josiah asked.

"Nathan said they were both tired looking. The nurses were in a tizzy. Seems Ezra pulled out his IV and his catheter," he almost chuckled at the pained expressions on both Josiah and JD's faces; he shared the sentiment. "Vin wouldn't let them wake him to put them back in unless his doctor said it was absolutely necessary. The urologist has been in and he told Nathan that Ezra's bleeding has tapered off. He's getting discharged this morning provided he stays on antibiotics and gets about two weeks of bed rest."

"What are you going to do about him?" Buck asked as he sat back down. If his eyes were a little watery no one mentioned it.

"According to Vin, he said he's a gambler and that the reason he got beat up was because he won more than some bastard thought he should have."

"Must be pretty good to drive around in a car like that," Josiah observed.

"Nothing illegal about gambling," Buck added.

"Nope," Chris replied.

"And?" asked Buck.

"Nathan thinks I should leave him alone."

"And?" sometimes, thought Buck, talking to Chris was worse than pulling teeth.

"And Nathan's going to be gone all day, meeting with the Judge and then with Emmett. Buck, you take JD out and find that dog. He's been gone too long. Josiah, get to work on the pantry, make a list of what's in there. Check the freezer too. I'm going to go fetch our brothers."

JD let a little smile creep across his lips. Having these men as brothers might be fun.

Part 6

Not even bothering circling the hospital parking lot, he parked at the pharmacy across the street from the hospital's main entrance. The hospital had grown wide and not up. Now the building sprawled all over its tract of land leaving little room for parking. There had been talk about buying one of the neighboring buildings and tearing it down to build a parking garage, but so far the price the hospital board was offering the doctors and dentists for their land had not enticed anyone to sell. Consequently, if you did not arrive significantly before the start of visiting hours you had best forget finding a space near the hospital and plan on doing some walking.

Chris stepped out of the sedan and stretched, oddly reluctant to go in there and fetch his brother. He never had been hesitant to do a job that needed to be doing. He had always been confidant of his abilities, but now he was bereft of that confidence and felt awkward going in to speak as a brother to a man he did not even know. Girding himself, as though preparing for battle, he walked into the building.

He nodded politely and tipped his hat (Buck would be proud of the effort) at the nurses clustered around their station. He did not recognize any of them, although they seemed to know him and one pushed away from her chair and came around the cubicle obviously intent on stopping him.

"Mr. Larabee."

He knew he should have been friendlier, but he had made up his mind to talk with Ezra and she was impeding his progress. "Yes," he managed to not snarl.

"Mr. Tanner is in the nurses' lounge and wanted to talk with you first thing."

He concentrated on softening his face into something a little more agreeable. Buck had often told him when he scowled he frightened people. "Where?"

"First door on the right," She stood watching him walk away. He wore a blasted coat so that she couldn't see much other than the ends of the coat flapping behind him, but she could appreciate the fluid grace with which he walked. She giggled as she sat back down and she and her co-workers exchanged guilty looks and burst out laughing - they were professionals after all and should not be getting this much pleasure from watching a man walk.

________________________________________________________________

Vin glanced up from his assortment of vending foods and the orange juice a cute nurse had given him. "Finally made it. About to send out a search team."

"That what you having for breakfast?"

"Nah, breakfast was hours ago. This is mid-morning snack," he offered Chris some chips, which he declined.

"You wanted to talk?"

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't push him."

Chris dropped the bag of clothes he had brought for Ezra in a chair, thinking that he should have brought something for Vin also. Oh well, he could get showered and changed when they got to the ranch. He glanced at Vin's snack and almost gagged at the odd assortment of food Vin was snacking on. He didn't gag, he didn't even comment on the mixture of sweets, sours and salts. Instead he shrugged out of his coat and put his hat on the chair beside him. Why hadn't he left the thing in the car? He had managed to not wear it for three years and this morning his hand had just reached out and grabbed it. Wonder, how it got on the coat rack anyhow?

Comfortable, he reached past the chips and grabbed the pickle. They had those in vending machines? "You got something to tell me." It was a statement not a question.

Tanner finished swallowing his chips and took a swig of orange juice. Scooting his chair back he leaned back in it and propped his legs up on the table. "Had me an apartment once, me and two of my buddies. Ground floor, near the garbage bins. There was this yellow tabby that had kittens hidden away somewhere nearby. I left food out for her to keep her out of the bins, kinda worried that she'd get trapped in it and the truck would come and pick her up with the garbage. I was hoping to catch her and her babies, go get 'em spayed, maybe find 'em a home. Never could get near her, she was that wild. This here is from the one time I did manage to catch her," he pointed to a pair of diagonal lines running up the inside of his right forearm, "I thought I was going to need stitches."

He finished the carton of juice and tossed it into the can. "One night I heard a noise and there she was with five of the scrawniest little kittens ya ever saw eating the food I'd left out on the patio. They started coming with her after that and when my roommates were out I'd turn off the lights and wait for her and her kittens to stop by. After a couple weeks, she came one night with only two of those kittens. A few days later it was just those two boys stopping by. One night it was raining somethin' fierce and I cracked the patio door open and waited. When they came in I made a mistake. I frightened them. I forgot that they'd never been held, never been around people. I just saw those two wet kittens and I made to grab them. One took off out the door: I kept putting food out, but he never came back. The other ran down the hall into my bedroom. It took me weeks to get it to come out from under the bed when I was in the room and even longer before he'd let me pick him up to pet. Ended up a real good cat, good mouser use to bring me presents. He liked riding in cars. Gave him to a girlfriend when I moved. Saw her about a year later, he came right up to me and jumped in my lap." He looked up at Chris, his eyes deadly serious, "Ya scare him, trying to get him to do things yer way, and he'll leave. Don't lunge for him."

"Thanks for the pickle," Chris grabbed his things and the paper bag and walked out of the room and on down the hall.

Vin returned to his snack.

________________________________________________________________

Josiah finished cleaning up the kitchen. He grabbed a coke from the fridge, his hand only hovering for a moment over a beer can. He did not need a beer he sternly told himself as he closed the refrigerator door. Popping the top off the coke he grabbed his coat from where he had thrown it earlier and walked out to the back porch.

Funny, how alcohol affected him. It wasn't that he drank every night or that when he did that he always drank to excess. It was just that when he did drink too much he was mean and violent; he didn't think of himself as a mean or violent man and so he had to ask himself, did the alcohol change him or did it strip the veneer away and expose the real Josiah. Thankfully, he had never hurt anyone, not seriously anyway, but he scared people. Had scared Nancy so much that she had moved out; she had her children come with her to move her things out and that had hurt. As though he would ever hurt her. She had blamed herself, telling him she was sorry, that she loved him and that she wanted what was best for him, but that she couldn't give him what he needed to stay sober. Her children had glared at him as she gave that tearful speech, thankful, no doubt that their mother and he had never wed.

Six months they'd lived together. They'd known each other three years before that. And out of all that time he had gotten drunk only a handful of times ... listen to yourself, he told himself sternly. When you scare someone, when you drink and cannot remember what you said or did in the morning, when the woman you love leaves you, then you have to face the facts. You drink too much.

She had left and he had taken a leave of absence from the clinic. He couldn't decide if they were happy that he was taking some time off or if they were disgruntled that they had to pick up the slack. Either way he couldn't blame them. He was leaving them shorthanded. The clinic needed every councilor carrying a full load if they planned to make any headway in healing the ills of the masses. Still, Nancy worked there too and even though she hadn't told anyone why she had moved out the tension between the two of them must have been hard for everyone else to deal with.

This Will of Dad's was a godsend. He would have a year to decide what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. It was obvious he couldn't go back to that clinic, but he could still council if he wanted to do so. The question was, did he want to do that? He'd figure that out. First, though, he had to figure out what these brothers of his meant to him and to his future.

Whether this grand experiment worked and forged them into a family depended on Chris, he thought; it was obvious that Nathan and Buck would follow wherever he led. He wondered if Chris also had a drinking problem. Nothing in his behavior last night indicated that alcohol might be a problem. Nothing in his behavior, but a man would have to be blind to miss the looks between Nathan and Buck when Chris reached for his second beer and the relief in both of their faces when he switched to sodas later. If Chris did drink too much, would he be able to hold them all together or would he drive them away?

He closed his eyes and prayed. He wasn't sure what to pray for except for the strength to make it through the day. After a moment he opened his eyes and looked around and seeing the glorious day the Lord had made, he gave thanks.

"Utterly unbelievable," he said to himself as he followed a well-worn path to a stream. He had lived in many different places and had seen many wondrous sights, but for the life of him he couldn't think of any to equal the beauty and wonder of the land he was walking. The stream ran rapidly along, splashing the white smooth stones that lined the bed. He walked a little further along the stream startling birds that angrily rebuked him for his invasion of their paradise. He apologized profusely to them, but continued to walk.

He hadn't gone that far, but the sparsely wooded land had almost hidden the house from his view. He decided to leave the birds to their business and head back to the house; he wanted to walk down to the stable and see the horses. It had been many years, but once he had ridden and loved it. Hope it was one of those things that you didn't forget, like bike riding. Though to think about it he wasn't sure if he could ride a bike now if his life depended upon it. Maybe he had better pray to remember how to ride, the Lord loved for His children to ask for His help.

The horses had been turned out to pasture so he gave the stable only a cursory examination, noting the neatness of the tack room, the clean bedding and the absence of flies. He walked back out into the sun and up to the fence. The horses watched him with more curiosity than wariness and though they occasionally lifted their heads to return his stare, his slow deliberate movements reassured them and they continued grazing. He watched them move about the pasture in long easy strides and a long forgotten voice began pointing out the faults and merits of each of them.

Caught up in the sight of the horses he was not aware of his new companion until a large head pushed under his hand. The largest dog he had ever seen sat beside him, tail thumping gently on the ground. "Hey boy," he spoke softly so as not to break the mood and the thumping quickened. He rubbed the massive white head and the dog leaned into his hand. "I guess you must be Jack." The dog insisted that his ears needed special attention by way of answer. Josiah knelt down beside the dog and was offered a paw. He didn't know much about the different dog breeds, but once he had dated a lady that bred and showed Great Danes and he had accompanied her to several shows, he thought that Jack must be a Great Pyrenees; he'd have to ask someone.

His fingers ran through the dog's coat and were met with matted hair and caught twigs. "You look like you could do with a good brushing," he stood up and gestured for the dog to follow him to the barn. "Did I ever tell you I was once considered a fairly decent barber?"

_________________________________________________________________

Chris didn't bother to knock he just pushed the door open. If he managed to surprise Ezra it didn't show in his face. "Thought they wanted you in bed."

"They did and then they insisted that Ah wake up so that Ah could tell them how Ah slept last night and they did all sorts of invasive procedures which Ah endured with stoic strength and as soon as they finished making me bleed they told me to get some sleep. Then no sooner than Ah had shut mah eyes intent on following their instruction, but another one of those Amazons in scrub suits came in with the premise that Ah provide her with ... urine. Ah don't know how you view these things, suh, but Ah did not want her assist me in any way and certainly not with one of those devices ...To move the story past a few unpleasant details, Ah have come to the conclusion that it is preferable to stand and meet whomever walks in that door on mah feet rathuh than wait on mah back." He motioned Chris to the chair. "Please be seated. Do not feel you need to stand on mah account."

Chris tossed his coat and hat on the bed and placed the paper bag on the table before sitting down. "Word is they're planning to release you shortly."

"Yes, Ah believe Ah have done mah time."

"Got any thought about where you're heading."

"Ah suppose Ah'll return to Las Vegas," he said thinking, "I've got to find a game if I plan to keep Moore happy."

Chris considered his brother, wondering how to convince him to come and live at the ranch. The man, standing behind the chair in a short hospital gown and an equally short robe managed to look as though he was posing for the latest in hospital wear. Faint shadows under his eyes and the tightness with which he grasped the chair betrayed his attempt to look relaxed and normal. He was stubborn: stubbornly looking normal when he had to be in pain, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge Linc Larabee as his father or the rest of them as brothers, stubbornly resisting coming to the ranch. What was he supposed to do?

"Vegas is a long drive," said Chris as he crossed his arms in front of him and scowled. He looked at his brother and thought 'especially for someone with broken ribs. You won't make it no matter what you tell yourself.'

"Ah can in mah car," Ezra answered the skepticism in Chris's voice and the matching look on his face.

Ezra let go of the chair, breaking eye contact with Chris. He went to the bed and sat down on the edge. "What's this?" he asked prodding at the brown sack as though he expected something to jump out.

"Clothes."

"Mah clothes?" he glanced at the bag, frowning at the thought of them wadding up one of his suits to make it fit into the bag.

"Actually, it is my clothes." Chris opened the bag and pulled out a blue running pants and coordinating jacket, a large white t- shirt completed the out fit. "We couldn't get the locks on your luggage opened so I brought this."

"Ah'll make sure it gets returned to you," said Ezra, he kept his frustration hidden thinking, 'Why couldn't they have just hung up his suit from yesterday and brought him a clean shirt? Even wrinkled it was preferable to what Chris Larabee had brought and he wouldn't be bothered with the need to return it. And they had his luggage? Surely they left it with the car.'

Chris almost left then. Nathan had spent the morning on the phone lecturing him about the legal and moral repercussions if he forced Ezra to the ranch and then Vin had warned him against cornering the man. How the hell was he supposed to reach a man that had already made up his mind not to listen? He wanted to throw up his hands in frustration and leave, but he was hit by a dark premonition. If he let their brother walk away, they would never see him again. They would never hear from him unless it was to read about him in the paper: the article would either be about him winning big in Vegas or his body being found in an alley. For God's Sake, the man carried insurance on his car, but not on himself; how could anyone think that he would take care of himself?

If he let his brother leave the hospital alone, there would be no letters exchanged. There would be no phone calls in the evening. There would be no occasional vacations to the ranch. If he were allowed to leave he would be gone. Vin was right though, lunge at Ezra and he would be out the door. To catch a feral cat he needed a trap in which to hold him until he could be tamed.

"Ezra, come out to the ranch. At least until you are on your feet."

"No. Thank you for asking, but ah have obligations elsewhere."

"You don't have a job. Are you married? Do you have children?"

"No."

"Are you an addict?"

"Ah am not foolish enough to ever begin to take drugs," he said puzzled. He couldn't believe that Chris had asked that.

"Not drugs. Are you addicted to gambling?"

"Ah am a gambluh. It is how Ah make mah living," he answered. It was the truth. He was not addicted to gambling, he made a living by gambling and by helping mother out with her occasional cons. He glared up at Chris, "Ah am not addicted to it."

"How do you know you are not addicted? Have you ever tried to leave?"

"Why would Ah leave such a lucrative business?"

"Oh I don't know ... to get away from people using you as a punching bag for starters."

"A misunderstanding, nothing more."

"Bull."

"Pardon me?"

"You heard me. You are going to end up dead if you keep dealing with people who can do this."

"We all end up dead." He tried to glare back at the man, but he was tiring. He needed to get out. He pulled the clothes to him and shook out the pants. Why wouldn't the man leave? He needed him gone so that he could figure out how to get the pants on without crying out from the effort.

"Sit down Ezra and listen to me. Hear me out," he took the pants out of Ezra's hands, tossed them on the bed and sank into the chair waiting for the right words to come to him. He couldn't find them. Why couldn't he have Buck's gift for making people feel at ease? Finally he just started talking, "I told Josiah, last night, that it would be easier if Dad had given us the money and had not included this one year family reunion into the mix."

"Yes, we would be gone and you would have the ranch and--" he was horrified at the bitterness he heard in his own voice.

"Is that what you think?" Chris spat out. "That I want you gone so I can have the ranch?"

"It is your home."

"No, it ... was ... my home." Chris bolted out of the chair and paced around the room burning off steam so that he could sit and talk rationally. He was angry but not angry enough that he had missed the almost imperceptible flinch Ezra had made when he had jumped out of the chair. "One day ... maybe... I will know you well enough to show you my home."

He sat back down and glared at the stranger across from him. "I am here because Dad ... LOOK AT ME EZRA ... Dad ... OUR father asked us to do this. I am staying the year because of him; I owe Dad that. One year and then I am gone."

"That is what you are doing. Fine. You owe him, fine. Ah do not owe him anything." Ezra spoke between clenched teeth, his voice husky with anger.

"No. I guess you don't owe him," he reluctantly admitted. He knew his father. Knew him to be a loving and caring father, but the man sitting on the edge of the bed all hunched over and holding his side in obvious pain did not know that man. "I know he wanted you, searched for you."

"Shut the hell up!" his voice was low and dangerous. He slid off the bed, ignoring the bolt of pain that action caused and walked over to the window, "The truth is if he wanted me he could have found me."

"He tried." Chris followed his brother to the window.

"Ah wrote him. All Ah wanted was for him to write me back and he couldn't be bothuhed."

"I'm sorry." Chris did not know what to do or say to ease the hurt and rage in that voice.

"Why?"

"You needed him. I am sorry he wasn't there."

"Don't be. Ah'm a much stronger man than Ah would have been if Ah had him to lean on."

"Then why are you so afraid?"

"Of what?" he was not afraid. He had learned to handle his fears long ago. He turned to face one of his biggest fears. His face hard and remote. He was determined to show nothing though inside behind his barriers he was throwing and breaking everything in sight.

"Of me, of Josiah and JD and Buck and Nathan and Vin. You are shaking in your boots at the thought of us."

"You are mistaken. Ah merely am not interested in you."

"If you were not interested, you would not have come yesterday."

"Idle curiosity, nothing moruh."

"You are lying. I see it in your eyes. You wanted to meet us and now that you have you are going to run off with your tail tucked between your legs," he reached over and wiped at the lone tear that had escaped his brother's control and was rushing down his cheek. "You are running off and when you can't run any further you will remember this meeting and you will hate us for not keeping you just like you hate Dad for not keeping you."

"Why is what Ah think so important to you? Why do you care if Ah'm there working at the ranch with you or in a casino winning a fortune?"

Chris locked eyes with green ones so like his own. He whispered, "You owe me."

"Ah do not see how you can make that claim." He wanted to step back out of Chris Larabee's personal space, but he had nowhere to go. He could hear his heart beating loudly in his chest and wondered that Chris could not hear it also.

"I remember you. Do you know that?" asked Chris, thinking of what Vin had said in the lounge: Offer a feral cat a tidbit and maybe he'll follow you through the patio door.

"No."

"I do. Do you want to hear about it?" asked Chris. He came close to whispering 'Please take the bait' but he waited silently for Ezra's response.

"Yes," the word snuck out of his mouth as a whisper. He didn't want to hear anything, there were too many years of silence, but, for the life of him he could not keep from speaking that word.

"Come, sit down on the bed. I'll sit over here and tell you why you owe me." He didn't lose eye contact as he waited for his brother to settle on the edge of the bed. He knew that all that movement had to have set his ribs on fire and that sitting on the bed hurt his rear, but his brother's face did not register any of that pain, he doubted if it even existed at that moment for Ezra. His older, deeper pain overshadowed all else.

Reaching behind him he dragged the table to him and sat on it so that he was at about the same height as Ezra and so that their knees were only a fraction of an inch apart. He didn't want to crowd his brother, but was scared if he didn't keep some sort of contact that he would lose him.

"I have these memories of Dad, of him rocking Nathan and crying. Mama, that would be Nathan's mom, had died and the house was so quiet. He'd rock Nathan to sleep and put him in his bed. He would sleep on one side of Nathan and I would sleep on the other and when on the nights Buck stayed over, he'd put Buck in bed, too. I would wake up and he'd be at the window, just standing. Sometimes, he would hold me so tight that it would hurt, but I knew that it was because he was so sad. One day the Judge and Miss Evie came over and took Nathan and me to spend the night at their home. They said Dad was going to get away for the weekend."

"Ten days later Dad came back and holding his hand was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She never moved in with us and yet she was always there. One day I told her she was getting fat. She didn't get angry, she just laughed. One day Dad told me I didn't have to go to school. He had me and Nathan put on our church clothes. He said he was going to take us to meet our new brother. You were so little... premature. We came every night to look at you through a glass window. I remember picking Nathan up to see you and a nurse bringing a stool out for Buck the times he came. Finally, you were brought home and I watched as your mom put you in the crib. She wouldn't let us come in because you were too little. She told me I could pick you up when you were bigger. Anyway, one day Dad took me and Nathan and Buck out, I don't remember where and when we came home you were gone." Chris stopped talking. It had been a bad time. There had been a note and an empty safe and Chris had told Buck to take Nathan to the kitchen. He had stayed in the doorway afraid to leave his daddy and afraid to stay. He had stood there crying, not understanding why his Daddy was throwing things, helpless to ease his father's pain.

"Ah don't see how this means Ah owe you," Ezra insisted, his voice little more than a whisper.

"You owe me the chance to get to know you. You owe me the chance to see what kind of man you grew up to be."

"Ah believe that you will be disappointed by what you find."

"I believe that a man that I could be disappointed in would not worry about me being disappointed."

Ezra hunted for the lie in Chris's face and eyes; he looked for 'the tells' that would expose the deceit. In the back of his head his mother's voice warned him of a scam; to not forget he had to stand up on his own two feet, that he could not trust the good intentions of others. There was a con, there had to be: life had taught him that much, but he couldn't find it.

"Ah will make you mad," he tried again.

"Hell, everyone makes me mad. Brothers get mad at each other, they get over it."

"Ah'm not a morning person."

"I make people nervous. "

"I like to play poker."

"So do I."

"You won't win if you play with me."

"Your cocky."

"Ah'm honest."

"We'll see."

"Don't cry when I win your million off of you."

"Didn't want it anyway."

Ezra leaned back on shaky arms. "If you tell anyone in this institution this, Ah will have to deny it and plot some suitable revenge, but Ah really don't believe Ah am up to driving to Vegas today."

"I don't think Buck's ready to let the Porsche out of his sight. If you leave now you would have to take him with you."

"Ah suppose Ah must stay and let him get ovuh his infatuation."

"Let's get you dressed so we can get out of here."

"Ah have been dressing mahself for years. Why don't you wait out in the hall?"

"You ever dressed yourself with broken ribs?"

"As recently as yesterday."

"You are a stubborn cuss."

"Yes, so Ah'm told."

Chris stepped out the door and glanced at his brother leaning against the wall. Seeing him there, propping up the wall, he knew that Tanner was the reason that no one had interrupted his talk with Ezra. "He's getting dressed."

"Might take a while."

"Yep, that it might."

______________________________________________________________

Ezra sat on his bed frowning. How was he supposed to wear $400 Italian black dress shoes with a blue running suit? He would die of embarrassment. Would it be dreadfully insulting if he wore his own wrinkled suit instead of Chris Larabee's offering? He looked at the assortment of clothes and decided the better question was: how was he going to get dressed?

The End