Epilogue

It has been just over a month now since that fateful day, and my life has been unalterably changed. Not that I feel this is a bad thing. Quite the opposite in fact. I just wish these changes had come about in a less traumatic manner.

Sitting here in the saloon, playing poker with these two men, who are rather less than adept at the game than I, all I have to do is look around, and I can see the first of the changes wrought in my life. I am no longer alone. There is always someone watching out for me, watching over me. While at times I do find it a bit stifling, I understand their concern, their need to do this.

In one corner, at their usual table, sit Chris and Vin. They sit next to each other like always, backs to the wall, a glass of whiskey in front of each of them. Looking at them, one would never presume they were lovers. Not unless one was to look beneath the table and see that each had their hand on the other’s thigh. I am glad that Vin has finally found what his heart desired. I will never regret the time we spent together, and I hope he does not either. He truly deserves happiness, and Chris is what makes him happy. They notice me watching them and identical smiles appear on their faces as they raise their glasses in salute to me. I nod my head and return to my game.

My attention has quickly wandered again; these gentlemen truly are dreadful players. Next my gaze lands on Josiah. In the past month, the man truly has been a father to me. Granted I have little knowledge of the concept of how a father/son relationship should be conducted, but I feel this is the way it should be for us. All through my convalescence, he has been by my side, ready to catch me if I should fall and patient enough to outwait my stubbornness when necessary. I chuckle quietly at that thought. Most times he has the patience, the rest of the time he just grabs me by the shirt collar and shakes me until I concede the point.

My…opponents look at me strangely when I chuckle. I simply smile benignly and continue with the game. Sitting with Josiah is young Mr. Dunne. JD has truly become the little brother I’m thankful I never had. No, that’s not fair. He means well even if he is a bit over-exuberant at times. He has even foregone Miss Wells’s company to sit with me. At such times I usually shoo him away. If there is one thing I have learned from that day it is to never deny love. It is a precious thing that should not be pushed off for a more convenient time. There is never a more convenient time then right then. Since JD insists on spending a large portion of his time with me, I have taken to teaching him some of the finer points of poker. None of the underhanded tricks, of which I am so frequently accused of, well, less frequently nowadays. JD is quite intelligent and an adept student. I quite enjoyed the looks of consternation on Chris's and Buck’s faces the other night when JD won more hands than he lost in their game of poker. A game which I was not a part of, having been involved in a game with some passengers from the stagecoach.

Buck is at the bar flirting with Inez. The man amazes me. He’s always projected such a devil-may-care attitude that it is easy to forget sometimes how seriously he takes being part of our little family, and just how much he cares about all of us. It makes me feel even worse for having involved him without his knowledge in my little game of Russian Roulette that I played with that whiskey. Despite what they thought, I knew what I was doing when I asked for it. I have apologized to Buck for my duplicity. I shall never forget that soft look of hurt and betrayal he got upon the realization of what exactly it was I was apologizing for. And although he has forgiven me, I understand why he has kept his distance. I have hurt him deeply, and only time can heal that pain. Yet still he watches over me. One of my six guardian angels. Once again I have to laugh at that thought. Most of their haloes would be slightly askew, and I can just picture Mr. Larabee eschewing the traditional white robes for his customary black duster and hat.

My sixth angel, my beloved Nathan, is not here at the moment. Yosemite, the town blacksmith, suffered an unfortunate accident this morning burning himself at his forge. Nathan has assured us he will be fine, and how could he not be under the care of our excellent healer? Of course I might be partially biased in that area. Sometimes I still cannot believe that he loves me, that he actually wants me, a Southern con man and gambler with a rusty conscience. But he does.

"Are you gonna play, or are you just gonna sit there smiling all day?"

The rough voice of one of my opponents drags me away from my musings. "I do apologize gentlemen for my lack of attention. Shall we continue?"

A grunt is their only response. How…unimaginative. I sigh as the game continues. I really do need some more challenging opponents than our small town has to offer, but the thought of leaving has no appeal to me. Now that I’m paying more attention to the game at hand, it goes much quicker and reminds me why I was allowing my mind to wander in the first place. They truly are dreadful players. Any of my associates would be able to pick up on their tells. My young protégé would probably be laughing himself silly over how obvious they were. This brought another quirk of a smile to my lips.

The batwing doors to the saloon swing open catching my once more wandering attention. It is all I can do not to let a full-blown smile spread across my face at the sight of my Nathan standing there. A slight smile curves his lips as he looks my way before he heads to the table where Josiah and JD sit. He talks to them briefly, most likely telling them how Yosemite is faring. From there, he crosses to Chris and Vin, nodding to Buck as he goes. Once more he stops to talk, his voice too low for me to hear anything more than its gentle cadences. The sight and sound of my beloved sets off a fluttering in my stomach and a rush of warm desire throughout my body. Good Lord, it’s amazing how much I love this man.

I try to keep my attention strictly on the hand of cards in front of me, even though I know he is walking towards me. Like Chris and Vin, Nathan and I have chosen only to allow a select few outside our little group know about our relationship. Just Inez, Nettie Wells and her niece, and Mrs. Travis. Not many are very understanding of a relationship like ours. Inez and Nettie simply replied to the news with the simple words, "About time." Casey and Mrs. Travis took a little more time to accept it. Young Casey, I think, just didn’t understand how two men could love each other. Mrs. Travis had the more difficult task of accepting that there was no longer a chance for a relationship between her and Chris. I could well empathize with her. The thought of never having Nathan, of being rejected by him had torn me up inside so badly that I’d finally decided there was no point in continuing what had become a meaningless existence.

The others have tried several times to get me to talk about that night, but I can’t. I know they mean well, but I can not bring myself to talk about it, to admit even to myself how low I had allowed myself to sink. Mother has always taught me that to show one’s emotions was to show one’s weakness. These men, my friends, my beloved, saw me at my weakest, something that shames me deeply.

A hand falls on my shoulder. I don’t have to look to know who it is. "Time for your exercises, Ezra."

"Not just yet, Mr. Jackson. I am in the midst of a game." We both know that I want nothing more than to leave the table right then and there, but appearances must be kept.

"End it then. You can’t avoid these exercises."

"I can certainly try, Mr. Jackson. Do you really think I enjoy submitting myself to such torture? Once I am finished here…"

"Ezra-"

"You heard the man, you stupid nigger. Now go away," one of the men across from me growled. I immediately stiffened at the same time Nathan’s grip on my shoulder tightened.

"What did you say?" Those who know me easily detected the edge to my normally relaxed drawl. The imbecile sitting across from me did not.

"I told that stupid nigger-"

"That’s what I thought," I said, interrupting him before he could further insult my beloved. "You will apologize immediately."

"What? I ain’t apologizin’ to no uppity darkie. You’re a Southerner, you know these darkie’s can’t be trusted."

With a quick flick of my wrist, my derringer is in my hand and aimed at the fool in front of me. "This Southerner knows better than to judge a man on the basis of his skin tone. Nathan is a good and gentle man and the finest healer I have ever had the privilege to know. Apologize now."

"No."

The sound of five guns cocking echoes in the suddenly silent saloon.

"The man told you to apologize."

I must say the sight of the two idiots turning pale in the face of Mr. Larabee’s quite effective growl was almost enough to make me smile. Almost.

"S…s…sorry," the man finally got out, "didn’t mean to cause no offense."

"I suggest you leave."

"Uh, yeah. We was just leaving." The man and his friend quickly gathered their money and scurried from the saloon. The usual activity of the room quickly resumed as well, no one paying much mind as my associates all gathered at my table.

"You didn’t have to do that, Ezra." Beneath the chiding tone, I could hear the gratitude and love.

"Yes, I did, Nathan," I tell him as I rise unsteadily to my feet. Nathan’s hand is instantly at my elbow, supporting me when my bad leg tries to buckle. JD hands me my cane, and I smile briefly in thanks. Yet one more weakness I am forced to display before these men. Steady once more, I look up into my beloved’s face. "He had no right to say such vile and despicable things to you."

"It’s not like I haven’t heard worse before."

"That does not make it right."

"Just say thanks, Nate, and take him on over to the clinic before that leg of his gives out," Vin said before Nathan could say anything more on the subject. I glare good-naturedly at my friend.

"I am perfectly capable of walking without assistance, thank you very much." Of course my leg immediately starts to give way again to belie my words. Nathan immediately catches me, and I sigh. "Perhaps I am not as sturdy as I would like to think."

Nathan smiles down at me. "That’s all right, Ezra. I’ll always be here to catch you."

A muffled cough catches my attention, and I blush remembering where exactly it is we are. Our friends just smile indulgently while Nathan escorts me from the saloon.

The walk to the clinic seems to take an interminable length of time due both to my infirmity and to my desire to be alone with my beloved as quickly as possible. At the same time, I am loath to be shut away in the clinic once more. Nathan understands without my having to say anything, and we sit for a time on the porch, enjoying the late afternoon sun. Ostensibly it is to allow me to rest before the draining exercises I am about to endure in the effort to strengthen my leg and regain my mobility. Luckily the town has been relatively quiet these past few weeks, so my absence has not put any of my brothers in danger.

After a time, Nathan breaks the silence. "We can’t put them off any longer, Ezra. You know how badly your leg stiffens up in one day; it’ll be even worse after two."

"I know, Nathan. Doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it."

"No, I’d be surprised if you did. I know it’s painful, but it’s for your own good."

I rise a little unsteadily before smiling crookedly at my love. "Why is it everything that’s good for me seems to cause pain?"

"'Cause the world moves in mysterious ways."

"Ah. You’ve been spending time with Josiah again. You haven’t been seeing crows have you?"

He laughs at that as I had intended. A deep, rich laugh that sends a tingle throughout my entire body. "Nope. Haven’t seen any crows. Now quit stalling. If I think your leg has improved enough, we’ll only do some light exercises. I’ve special plans for tonight."

He is standing next to me, his head bent near to my own, looking to all the world as if we are talking as he helps me along. I know the truth. I feel his warm breath on my cheek, those wide lips pressing soft kisses to my ear. A quiet moan escapes my lips, and Nathan hurries me into the clinic. Tries to anyway. One thing my leg will not allow for is hurrying.

Inside I sit down on the edge of the bed, and Nathan kneels before me to help me remove my finery. Another unfortunate side effect of these exercises is that I usually end up drenched in sweat by the time we’re finished. I undo my gun belt then hand it over so Nathan can hang it on the bedpost. I shrug out of my jacket, my hat already on the desk by the door. Nathan takes my jacket, my favorite green one, and hangs it expertly on its rack. I remember the first time I saw him do that. I learned then that Nathan had not always been a field slave, and how he learned to read and write. As a child, he’d been given the task of acting as companion and manservant to his Master’s only son, a boy two years his junior. They had done everything together until they reached puberty. Then it was decided some of the looks they shared with each other were unnatural and filthy. Nathan was whipped and sent to the fields. Less than a year later, three of the young slave girls were pregnant by his Master’s son.

I pushed those thoughts away when he kneeled once more before me, kissing me as his agile fingers undid the buttons of my vest. Opening my mouth beneath his, I welcomed his slick tongue, caressing it with my own. His large hands are gentle as they move across my body, slipping beneath my shirt. The roughness of those beautiful, hard-working hands against my smooth skin sends a delicious shiver through my body, and I lean forward into the caress. My own hands are busy trying to divest him of his shirt. Somehow, and I’d be hard pressed to give a clear answer as to how it occurred, we are almost completely undressed. Nathan still has on his pants and boots, while I am clad only in my underwear, a pair of long johns cut down into a type of short pants for when we do my exercises.

As if reading my thoughts, Nathan pulls away and we sit together panting for a moment. He finally says, "As much as I’d like to keep goin’ with that, we have to do your exercises, Ezra."

"One more kiss and I promise to be a good boy," I say with a wicked smile.

My love just shakes his head. "That’ll happen. One kiss and then it’s exercise time."

He gives me a quick, sweet kiss, then pulls away once more. I watch him rise to his feet loving the way his muscles glide and ripple beneath his dark skin. It reminds me of a confection I had the pleasure of tasting while in San Francisco. It was called chocolate. A delicious treat to be sure, but nothing compared to my Nathan.

"Hey, Ezra?"

"Hmm?" I answer, still distracted by the sight of those muscles.

"What are you thinking?"

"You. Muscles. Chocolate. Exquisite treasures Kings would pay ransoms of gold for." His throaty chuckle makes me blush as I realize I spoke my thoughts out loud.

"I love you, Ezra, but sometimes you think the oddest things."

"I don’t think it’s odd," I mutter and blush once more when he smiles at me. He pours some oil into his hands then rubs them together, both to warm and spread the oil. Then he is applying those oil-slicked hands to my injured leg, gently massaging the stiffness from it.

I lay back on the bed simply enjoying the feel of his hands as they work their magic. Every now and then I wince when he hits a particularly tender spot. It quickly melts away beneath those knowing fingers. All too soon he gently lowers my leg and moves away so he can spread the padded blanket on the floor for my exercises. He helps me shift from the bed to the floor, holding my hand extra long when I tremble in anticipation. I am not lying nor exaggerating when I say these exercises are painful, although not so much as they were at first. The first few sessions Nathan would have to give small doses of laudanum as well as a second massage to ease the pain. I would beg and plead with him to stop, to end the torture. He wouldn’t though and for that I am grateful. Had he given in to my pleading, allowed me to put off these exercises, I might have been forever stuck in that loathsome wheeling chair, forever reliant on someone else. No, as much as I dread these exercises, I fear that chair even more, and I thank God for Nathan’s love and perseverance.

A tap on my leg brings my thoughts back to the task at hand. Nathan just smiles, having an idea as to where my thoughts have been. He’s already completed the preliminary exercises. They don’t require much thought or attention on my part. Now comes the fun part. The only words spoken are Nathan’s occasional instructions and encouragement. This time around though he only pushes me until there is a vague ache in my leg, not the usual hard, throbbing pain that leaves me in tears. There are some new exercises mixed in as well. I’m surprised when he stops so soon and just as surprised to realize my leg is almost as sore as it usually is.

"It’s the new exercises. It’s a new movement your muscles aren’t used to. I didn’t want to tire you out too much though. Let’s get you back onto the bed."

Once he has me situated on the bed, Nathan brings me a mug of one of his teas. As foul tasting as it is, I drink it down gratefully, knowing it will ease the ache. He places the empty mug on the new night table, then pulls the covers up higher on my shoulder urging me to sleep. Already tired from the exercises, the tea makes me drowsy and I close my eyes. I know Nathan will stay with me until I am asleep, just as I know he will then go to the saloon for at least one shot of whiskey and a beer, and talk with our friends for a while before returning here to me.

The first time Nathan came to bed with the smell of whiskey on his breath, I thought I had done something wrong. I found out the next day from Vin that Nathan had practically been in tears hating that he couldn’t give in to my pleas to stop the exercises. He hated that he had to cause me such pain to get me well again. After that, I have tried to be as stoic as possible and do not begrudge him that shot of whiskey.

The feel of his fingers gently brushing through my hair and the soft tune he’s humming finally lulls me to sleep.

Some time later the feel of the bed dipping and Nathan slipping underneath the covers behind me wakes me from my sleep. Spooning up behind me, he curls an arm around my waist while pressing a line of soft kisses along my shoulder and up my neck until he reaches my lips. It is a long, passionate kiss. I notice absently that he only tastes of beer tonight. This heartens me even more that I am well on the road to recovery. His warm tongue slipping into my mouth distracts me from those thoughts. I suck on it, delighted when the action elicits a low moan and the press of his hard length against my backside. Something clicks in my mind, and I pull away to look at him questioningly in the semi-dark. "You’re naked."

"Yep. Real…astute observation there, Ezra."

I could sense, more than see, him smiling at me. I still wanted clarification of what I thought this meant. "If you’re…does that mean…are we…can we…?"

"Yes, that’s what it means, and yes, we can. Unless you don’t want to?" he asks, tenderly caressing my cheek. I shift onto my back so I can look him squarely in the face and grasp his hand in mine.

"Yes, Nathan, I want to. I want to make love with you."

He bends down and kisses me again, holding our bodies tightly against each other. The light smattering of dark curls on his chest tickles mine, and I shiver slightly at the sensation. Perhaps thinking I shivered from fear or uncertainty, Nathan starts to pull away. I quickly put an arm around his waist drawing him back to me. I sigh happily as he settles back against me.

"I wasn’t going anywhere," he reassures me. "Just reaching for the jar of oil." He pauses and looks away for a moment. "When you and Vin…did he ever…did you let…."

Knowing what he is trying to ask, and the incumbent emotional baggage it carries, I answer truthfully. "Mr. Tanner was by no means my first lover, Nathan. Nor was I his. We were and are friends. No more than that. It is only us now. Being here with you is the only thing that matters to me. I want to make love with you. I want us to be together."

"I want that too, Ezra. I just didn’t want to push you into anything you weren’t ready for."

"Believe me, Nathan, I am definitely ready for this," I say. Still holding his hand, I move it down to cup my own erection. He lightly squeezes the fabric covered bulge, and I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning. "Please, Nathan. I want to feel you inside me."

"God, I want that too," he says raggedly, his fingers flexing again against my erection. Pushing back the covers, he moves into a kneeling position so he can slide off my underwear. When I am completely unclothed, he simply sits there watching me. I don’t notice at first as I am busy doing some admiring of my own. After a few minutes though, I begin to fidget and grow concerned that he’s changed his mind. Maybe he’d truly realized he was about to make love with a white man, a Southern white man at that, and it brought back too many painful memories. Or maybe he found the numerous scars that littered my body, most gained since coming to this town, ugly. Or maybe… My thoughts are cut off by the sudden feel of his hands ghosting up my legs, just brushing the skin. Finally he is leaning over me, nestled between my legs, our erections pressed tight between our bodies.

His cock is longer and thicker than my own, and I wonder what it will feel like buried inside me, thrusting deep and hard. Eager to feel that pleasure, I moved to wrap my legs around him. My right leg is no problem, but I only got my injured leg halfway bent before it started to hurt. Nathan immediately noticed something was wrong and helped me lower my leg back to the bed.

"Well, this position won’t work," Nathan sighed, "and neither will…or that…I think I’ve got it. Roll onto your side so your bad leg is flat against the bed," Nathan instructed as he moved away. Complying, I twisted my head around to watch him grab the jar of oil and settle behind me in the position we’d been in earlier. Bending his right leg, he lifted my good leg and positioned it over his bent one. I realized this left us in the perfect position for him to enter me without awkwardness or pain.

I looked forward once more when I felt his oil-slicked fingers move between my cheeks and enter me. There is a slight burning as the tight muscles are stretched, but I force myself to relax. After a few moments, Nathan has me stretched to his satisfaction, and his fingers are replaced by the blunt head of his manhood. Again there is some burning as he breaches me, but he pauses and waits until I nod before pressing deeper. Slowly, in this way, Nathan continues until he is fully buried inside my tight sheath. I lay panting in his embrace, not believing that I was able to take all of him, but the press of his balls against my backside tells me I have.

Nathan nibbles on my neck and earlobe while his right hand reaches around to gently stroke my waning erection. He quickly brings it back to full hardness. I moan from the pleasure of his hand stroking me and push back against him causing his cock to shift inside me. I gasp and automatically tighten my inner muscles as he brushes against that nub of pleasure. My love groans low in his throat and, taking this as a sign of my readiness, begins to move. He withdraws almost completely before plunging back in, his foreskin creating an added friction as he rubs against that nub. I push back against him wanting more. We quickly set up a steady rhythm, gasping and moaning as we spiral higher.

"Oh God, love, harder," I moan. At least I think I do. At this point, I have idea if I’m anywhere near coherent. Nathan is panting in my ear, gasping something that sounds, "Yesss. So tight. So good."

Soon though, as the pace quickens, he thrusts deeper and harder inside me, his hand stroking and squeezing me in time to his thrusts. I lose any semblance of rational thought. Everything narrows down to the incredible pleasure that is flooding through my body. I can feel the tingling beginning in my balls, and I know that I’m almost there. I try to hold out, wanting to feel Nathan come with me, but he ruthlessly drives me over the edge. Stiffening, I cry out, my hand clutching his as my seed shoots all over my chest and the bed.

A few short strokes later and he shouts my name, driving into me even harder, his warm seed coating my insides. He thrusts twice more, barely moving, before falling limp behind me and pulling me with him so we remain tightly spooned together. Nathan lowers his leg so it rests between mine, and his still hard length remains inside me. Not that I mind. I find I quite enjoy the sensation. I feel possessed, loved. He nuzzles my neck, and I sigh contentedly. Finally we are where we belong, in each other’s arms.

~Fini~