Auguries of Innocence
by Tess 

"Damned Southern son-of-a-bitch!"

Dust devils swirled around boot heels trailing a staccato beat after their owner. Startled silence filled the saloon, punctuated by the uneven rhythm of batwing doors swinging out of synch.

JD Dunne shifted in his seat wanting to get a better look at the figure that loomed behind his back. A brisk look from Buck and JD forced himself to stay still, dropping his hands to rest lightly on his gun belt. Chris Larabee glanced tightly from the imposing figure in the white plainsmen to his obvious intended target. He could read a subtle shift in body language, but other than a brief glance, the card shark continued to focus his attention on the pasteboards in his hands.

"Boy, I'm talkin' to you. You bettah git your lily-white ass up on those pretty boy feet of yours before I learn you some manners."

"Teach me" came the soft rejoinder.

Chris clenched his jaw. Ezra never knew when to shut up. Well, if he was gonna die from a terminal case of mouth that was fine, but he'd be damned if he was taking the rest of them with him.

"Ezra," he growled.

The gamester ignored him, flipping the cards through his hands. "In any case," Ezra laconically commented, "It appears that you are in no position to correct the behavior of your betters. One should show suitable deference before one's superiors. I would suggest that you acquire the rudiments of civilization before presuming on my sensibilities."

JD wanted to melt into the floor as he felt the huge man step closer to the table. From the way that the man's presence invaded his personal space, the sheriff could tell that he was huge, almost as big as Josiah was. Peering up out of the corner of his eye, JD figured he was right, the man was really big. Sympathizing with the fly he squashed earlier, he tried to become invisible.

"Arrogant, ain't you, boy? You sayin' I ain't civilized. Maybe I'll jist learn you a little about civilization when I'm shutting up your smart-ass Johnny Reb mouth. You ain't gonna look too superior with my boot on your neck."

Ezra leaned back in his chair, keeping his eyes on the table as he fanned out the cards on the felt. "As I was saying, sir," he drawled sarcastically, "Your crude and ungracious remarks denote you as something beneath the attention of any self-respecting gentleman. Your threat is meaningless and juvenile. Now be gone, boy."

Nathan Jackson took in the deep brown eyes of the tall, grizzled black man standing behind JD. He could feel the climate in the room change, bristling under the cutting remarks and casual dismissal from the gambler. Unbidden memories rose like specters from behind the healer's eyes. Normally phlegmatic, Jackson could feel the heat rising up from his own gut as the river of degrading and derogatory words cut deep into the soil of hatred sown by a life of slavery. Seeds of abhorrence and enmity long buried in the fertile soil of oppression sprung to life. They were watered by the surge of perceived condemnation spouting from the lips of a man whose every manner proclaimed pride in a heritage long denying Nathan personhood.

"Ain't nobody's boy,"

JD could barely breathe as the man now physically crowded into his space, stretching his arms out on the table to stare into Ezra's face.

"Indeed," came the arched reply, "I forgot, you're Tristan Elian's nigger."

The erstwhile healer never noticed that Standish had finally risen to his feet. Nathan's vision blurred and he could barely hear for the rushing pounding in his ears. Somehow one of his throwing knives made its way to the comfort of his palm. He hefted it lightly, enjoying the cool weight of its substance.

The protagonists never wavered in their inexorable approach towards each other. The rhythm of verbal abuse flying hot and heavy.

"Blackguard."

"Philistine."

"Fraud."

"Peon"

"Damn it Ezra!" Chris slammed the flat of his hand against the table but the slender gambler and his vocal opponent never wavered.

The dull thud broke through Nathan's consciousness. He looked down at the knife in his hand, then at the forest green clad back in front of him and imagined it buried to the hilt right in the center. Eyes wild, Nathan darted from the saloon.

"Fop"

"Plebian"

"Reptilian shit."

"Saprophyte."

Two very different men were now toe to toe. Tall and imposing, the heavyweight black man towered over the cocky bantam gambler. The room had gone deadly still. Sparking green eyes met fiery brown, hands came up slowly. Chris reached for his Colt, Buck snatched JD out of his chair, the young sheriff drawing his guns as he was pulled away from the impending fray. Vin had his mare's leg ready, as Josiah glided to stand behind Ezra.

Five men watched in nervous anticipation as the few other patrons fled for safer quarters.

"Reptilian shit?" came the low questioning draw.

It was followed almost immediately by, "Saprophyte?"

With a Rebel yell Ezra pounced, right into his adversary's arms. "Joseph, how the hell are you?"

Amazement and a bit of annoyance followed by amusement rippled around the spectators. Watching the two men laugh and hug with a good bit of back slapping, guns were holstered and shots of whiskey poured as tense bodies relaxed back into chairs.

Joseph grabbed Ezra up in a tremendous bear hug, and pulled back to hold him at arm length. The others could see the approval in his gentle brown eyes.

"I was terribly sorry to hear about your mama. I should have been there."

Ezra blinked, "Thank-you. I was lucky I was there. Anyway," he added softly. "You're here now." Peridot eyes twinkled with pleasure.

Joseph nodded. So that was the way it went. That didn't surprise him at all.

"Damn, if you ain't a sight for sore eyes. Mercy, son, what have you been doing with yourself? I run into your mama, 'bout six months ago, when we was in St. Louis. She was right unhappy. Said you were all mixed up with the wrong kind of people. Took on paid employment, working for the local law?"

The garrulous gambler shrugged. "Yes, well, you see Judge Travis…"

"Lordy, boy ain't he that judge you tangled with up there in Wyoming territory?"

"The one and the same. Anyway, my associates and I assisted him in apprehending a notorious murderer and the benevolent old man offered me a pardon, if I would assist in the peacekeeping efforts of this backwater metropolis.

"No more thousand dollar bounty on your head."

Ezra cringed. He heard the low whistles behind him. Dear Lord, they'd hound him to death on that one. Suddenly, it occurred to him just how much of his past he had successfully kept buried. Joseph would change all that. His old friend was a incorrigible gossip. He was astonished to realize that it might not matter, hell, might even be amusing to see their faces at some of the revelations. Except….

"You going to introduce me to these boys? Thought they were gonna take my head off there for a while." Joseph smiled at the five men sitting around the table.

"Of course, Joseph, my apologies, how thoughtless of me."

Pulling an extra chair from the table behind him, he gestured to Joseph, "Please have a seat. Thank-you, my dear,." he said smiling at Inez who had appeared with a fresh bottle and another glass.

"Gentlemen, I would like you to meet my old friend, Joseph Freeman. Joseph, this is Chris Larabee. Mr. Larabee is the leader of this motley assemblage."

The gunslinger eyed the man and approved of what he saw. Nodding his head, he reached out his right hand and found it shook with a very firm grip. He liked that in a man.

Ezra moved around the table. "Vin Tanner, tracker and sharpshooter par excellence. Josiah Sanchez, handy with both the Good Book and a gun. Buck Wilmington, a very able and loyal lawman and resident lothario, and Mr. JD Dunne, the commendable local constable."

Joseph shook each man's hand and greeted each man by name.

Ezra scanned the room quickly, he hadn't noticed the healer's departure. "Mr. Jackson seems to have had business elsewhere. Oh well, no matter. Joseph, I will have to introduce you later. He is a very capable healer; adept with knives in more ways than one."

"Son, it does indeed look like you've fallen in with quite a crowd. Your daddy would be pleased."

No one at the table missed the shadow that clouded their friend's face but the sun came out soon after. With a flash of his gold tooth, Ezra dimpled, "Perhaps. So tell me, what are you doing here?"

"Been down Tucson way, Lanie finally married her cowboy. Two of them living down there working on some ranch. Her mother drove me 'bout crazy to get myself down there and make sure they're doing alright."

Josiah listened as Joseph chatted about his trip to see his daughter and her husband. It was obvious that Ezra was genuinely fond of the man and his family and concerned about their well being. He had seen Ezra bristle if people called him son, but he accepted it from Joseph without blinking an eye.

"How is Mrs. Rachel Freeman?" Ezra studied his old friend's face as if looking for something that may be hidden there.

"Doing right fine, Ezra. Her back's still giving her a good bit of trouble ever so often, but thanks to you she gets around real fine. Good enough to play with our six grandchildren" With patent pride, he commented to the group. "My Rachel wouldn't be walking today, if it weren't for the money Ezra here give us to pay for the doctoring and operation she needed."

JD watched his friend turn a delightful shade of red. As Joseph continued telling about his wife's health, the young man recognized that they had a gold mine of information about Ezra sitting right here. Exercising restraint for a moment or two, at the first noticeable pause JD began firing off the first of many questions in his considerable arsenal.

"Mr. Freeman, how come you and Ezra were throwing insults at each other like that? We all thought you were some disgruntled mark come to take it out of his hide."

"First off, it's Joseph. Now, JD, is it?" seeing the man's nod, Joseph continued. "Well, Ezra and me go way back, pulled each other out of a lot of scrapes using that little act. Reckon, it just got to be a habit. Seeing who can insult who the worst. Keep trying to come up with one to outsmart him," he chuckled and shook his head slightly. "But I always found Ezra's ability to talk his way out of some pretty hairy situations right handy. Saved my sorry hide more times then I'd like to remember."

Josiah couldn't help but feel a bit chastised. Especially as he thought about all the times the smooth-talking con man had used his verbal dexterity for their welfare.

"I didn't understand something Ezra said, what is a rusty lean?" JD's face was a study as he tried to figure out that weird reference.

Joseph and Ezra exploded into laughter. Neither could speak because as soon as one would start the other would start laughing again and they were off again. JD was just starting to get a bit annoyed, when Ezra was able to answer him.

"Mr. Dunne," he cut off the laugh that pushed behind his teeth. "a rusty lean is Tristan Elian. A who not a what and he was a friend of ours. We sort of traded Joseph back and forth as a joke, you see."

JD did not see and neither did anyone else. Joseph knew they would misunderstand.

"Son, Tristan and Ezra were protecting me. In some parts of the south it wasn't a good idea for a black man to be running around without havin' the right assistance, shall we say."

"Oh," JD understood that. "So Ezra didn't own you or this Tristan person either?"

The old black man smiled sadly at the boy. Poor thing didn't know that there was such a thing as a free Negro before the war.

"No, JD, I've never been a slave and neither Ezra nor Tristan would have ever owned anybody anyway."

"Why are you laughing so hard?" the young sheriff failed to see what was so amusing and those two were practically choking on their laughter.

"Mr. Dunne your reaction is exactly what is so humorous. It was the perfect con. Joseph was never a slave but everybody thought he was because of what they perceived. Tristan and I would have never engaged in that peculiar institution, but because of who they thought we were that assumed we were. A veritable work of art if I do say so myself."

"Even fooled Tristan's father."

"Heaven's yes," Ezra was breathless from laughing. "Threatened to haul both of us to the woodshed after that pompous ass of a colonel left."

"Who was Tristan?"

Buck rolled his eyes at JD. Well, they said the Lord looked after innocents and fools. Right now the ladies man wasn't sure which fit the kid right now.

"Tristan and his family were friends. I stayed with them when I was in ah, school."

"You still keep in touch? Ow, Buck that hurt."

"Mr. Wilmington." Ezra frowned at the ladies man. "No, Mr. Dunne, even Mr. Morse has yet to devise a device the allows us to communicate with the hereafter."

The young man's eyes widened, but he knew not to go there. Wracking his mind, he tried to think of some less troublesome topic.

"Joseph, so how did you and Ezra hook up in the first place?"

The gambler's stomach flip-flopped. So it begins, he thought, hoping the men at the table were the men he had come to believe they were.

"I've known Ezra Standish since he was a little fellow, just six years old. That's when his Daddy saved yours truly from a hanging."

Joseph Freeman was a master storyteller and knew that they thought they wanted to hear the whole story. It was obvious from their reactions that Ezra had told them nothing of his father. The old man knew they had met Maude. He knew her and her ways well and he knew Ezra. He was proud of the man for letting his better instincts to win out against the self-reproach and loathing that had poisoned him for thirty years.

He had lived a long, long time and could read other men with ease. Looking at the hardened men before him, he was satisfied that they would see the heart in the story he was about to tell. The old black man felt Ezra stiffen with trepidation and knew that the younger man was afraid. Turning to those glittering green eyes, he let the gambler know that he would stop right now, should he want him to. Ezra was unsure and Joseph saw the tendrils of apprehension dancing in those sea green depths. He also saw something else. That was all he needed. Permission granted, he began his tale.

"My people come to this country long time back and we always lived as free men working piloting ships in and out of Charleston harbor. My daddy was a pilot and his daddy before him and his daddy before him. Well, anyways, one summer, 'bout thirty years ago, I was asked to take a pretty little sloop up the coast to a new owner on North Island. I was right glad to do it to, man was paying a pretty penny and I was raising me two little boys and I had another babe on the way. So I agreed. Trip weren't no trouble at all. She was a right trim little ketch."

"Only problem was, had to rent me a horse and ride back cross country to Charleston. I had my papers and all, but there were some in them parts thought there was no such thing as a free black. Well, I was high tailing it home when I run into a bunch of them murdering bastards. 'Fore I knew it I was getting hoisted up over a branch of a big old oak tree. They were three of the biggest, meanest son-of-bitches I ever seen. Just as they were getting ready to pull that rope tight and ride off, here comes this buggy along the road. Don't know who was more surprised them or me. I didn't know if it was going to be help or just more folks to watch me breathing my last."

Ezra broke in, eyes glazed with memory. "It was an absolutely spectacular July morning. We were coming home from church. They were so surprised because it was early for Sunday service to be over." Ezra smiled sadly. "Daddy stood up when it was time to for the sermon and said, 'In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Then God saw everything that He had made, and indeed it was very good. Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift.' And then he dismissed the congregation."

Josiah was shocked, "Your father was a pastor?"

"Yes," was all Ezra said looking down at his fingers tapping lightly on the tabletop.

Joseph picked up his tale. "Well that buggy stops and I hear this cultured gentleman's voice demand to know exactly what was going on. He was a handsome fellow and spoke all fancy, real educated I could tell. Ezra here is the spitting image of his Daddy. Asked them did they know they was breaking the law? Them bastards just laughed and said they didn't care about no law. Then he asked them did they know that they was tempting the wrath of God by breaking the Ten Commandments? That kind of riled them up some and they told him in no uncertain terms that he best get. Well, I figured he would; after all weren't none of his business.

"But he told them that he had no intentions of leaving until they cut me down. He lights into them; starts quoting Scripture at those murdering renegades. Told them they were inexcusable and that God was going to render up to them according to their deeds."

"They told him they was doin' everybody a favor by hanging a no-count, good for nothin' nigger. Well, Reverend Standish didn't like that at all. He says how everybody is made in the image of God. Then he goes on to say how slavery is an abomination. That did it, those boys figured only one thing worse then a nigger and that was an abolitionist. "

Vin looked at Ezra, damn the man looked like he was going to faint. The astute tracker was sure that what was coming next wasn't going to be pretty. His stomach clenched. Glancing over to meet Chris's aqua eyes, he saw his friend had come to the same conclusion.

"Those bullies were drunk and madder than a skunk with its tail caught in a fox's mouth. Next thing I knew they pulled me loose, plunked me upside the head and had the good Reverend up there with that rope around his neck." Joseph's voice thickened with sorrow and the words came a bit slower.

"I could hear this lady screaming. She went running up and started hitting and kicking one of those men. It wasn't a good idea. He got really riled, till he saw what a pretty young thing she was and carried her off into the bushes. Well…" Joseph paused to clear his throat.

Everybody at the table was wishing JD had kept his mouth shut. It was too late now.

"She screamed for a long time."

Ezra's knuckles were white from the pressure. Why was this so painful? God knows he'd relived every moment of that day a thousand times. It never, ever got better. He was unaware that the nails from his fists had dug into the tender palms, drawing blood.

"I was working hard on those ropes tying me down, but I wasn't getting far. When he saw his Mama and Daddy in trouble, Ezra here comes darting out of that buggy. He was toting the biggest old shotgun I ever saw. Thing was so big boy could hardly lift it. He was just a little fellow. Scared as anything, big old tears running down his cheeks. Stood right up to those murdering bastards. Told them he'd shoot them as sure as they were standing there if they didn't stop. One of them lowlife's starts heading right for him and damn if Ezra didn't blow his head right off."

Blood, brains and bone had flown everywhere. It was an image Ezra had wished to God he could forget. One minute the man had been standing there, the next all that was left was the gushing stump of his neck on top the toppling body.

"The kick from that old gun laid Ezra flat on his back. Poor little guy was easy pickings for them bastards. The one in the bushes comes running out and grabs the poor child around the neck. I figured he was going to strangle him. Boy was turning blue when the other one said he had a better idea."

Joseph sighed, tears filling his eyes.

"Lord in heaven, I pray to God them bastards burn in hell. They took that big old gun and they put it in that little tykes hands and they stood him up there before his Daddy and told him that if he could shoot the rope, they'd let his Daddy live. If not, well, he'd be the one killing his father, not them."

Blood circled around his nails as the fingers dug deeper.

Tears prickled JD's eyes. God in heaven, what kind of monsters would do that to a little boy? Josiah felt his heart turn over with compassion as he looked at the frozen face of the Southerner sitting across from him. Buck would have willingly ripped their hearts out with his bare hands. Vin was transfixed in his seat. He saw everything as clear as day; it was almost like he was there. Chris had unconsciously reached for his Colt, eyes flashing in rage.

"The Reverend had been quiet until those criminals got hold of his wife. He begged them not to hurt his family. Man tried everything, but not much you can do with a rope around your neck. Can't imagine what went though that man's head when they stood his little child up there. Never seen anything so awful in all my born days. Bravest man I ever seen. Looked right into that little fellow's eyes." Joseph paused to try and gain some composure.

Sounds of glasses, cutlery and conversation faded. All Ezra could hear was his Daddy's rich tenor, "I love you, Ezra P. Love never fails son. No matter what. Remember." Over and over the words ran around his head like water flowing down the paddles of a Mississippi steamer. With a slight shake of his head, he jerked his attention back to Joseph.

"They swung the Reverend up high. Ezra lifted that gun up and took aim. I swear I never seen a child so determined in all my life. Poor thing was shaking so bad, he could hardly stand up. The rope was cutting his Daddy's neck, man was gasping for air, his body jerking at the end of that rope. Ezra knew he couldn't wait and he fired." The old black man was crying openly now, unashamedly wiping his dripping wet face.

The silence grew as crows gather on a roof ridge before an oncoming storm.

Joseph brought the story to its tragic conclusion. "Just as Ezra fired the gun, that devil reached over and pushed down the barrel. The bullet tore right through his Daddy's chest. It was the worse thing these old eyes ever seen, and I seen plenty let me tell you. Just then some folks come riding up the road. Them bastards high-tailed it out of there. We cut Reverend Standish down and took him and the Missus and the little fellow home. It was too late for the Ezra's Daddy, it grieves me to say. He died at dawn the next day."

"I should have waited." The soft Southern drawl was rich with self-condemnation. His face devoid of emotion. He really had thought he could handle it. Thirty years had come and gone. He was wrong. Not able to face the rejection in those men's eyes, he fled.

Ezra had no idea where he was going, he just ran until he thought his lungs would burst. Out of the saloon, down the alley and into the dark countryside west of town.

Vin hadn't taken his eyes off his friend. Ezra had not been all that older than he was as he sat by his dying mother's bedside. Those moments were written on his heart and soul. Wounds that would never heal. When Ezra bolted, he was already in motion. Trailing the gambler from a discrete distance, he let the man run.

Not a man sitting at that table could hear over their own heart's pounding for a long moment. Joseph fixed each man with a careful look, then looked out the still swinging batwing doors.

"That Tanner fellow good enough to keep up with that boy?" he asked Larabee.

Chris glared at Joseph. "We take care of our own."

"So, I heard. You figuring Ezra is one of yours?"

The gunslinger was getting perturbed. "Yup. What's it to you?"

"Man committed patricide. Someone like that one of yours?" Joseph baited the angry shootist.

Four affronted men jumped all over him. Holding his hands up, Joseph called for quiet. "Hold on, now, I'm just making sure. You boys need to understand that Ezra's going to think just that."

"Sit down, JD, Vin's got Ezra. We need to talk." Chris settled everyone down. "What's going on Joseph?"

The old black man smiled. He was right. Larabee was a astute and intuitive man. Perhaps they would succeed where he had failed.

"You met Maude?"

"So what," Chris prompted. The other men waited, somewhat impatiently but trusting that their leader knew what he was doing.

"She blamed Ezra. Always did. Stood right there by that deathbed not five minutes after the man died and told that child it was his fault. That he should have waited and that if he had his father would be alive."

"Bullshit," was Larabee's terse comment.

"Pure and unadulterated." agreed Joseph. "But no six year old in the world gonna doubt his mama's word. Especially after he blew a hole in his Daddy's chest then stood by his bedside and watched him die a slow and painful death."

"Dear God." Josiah breathed. This was not at all what he had expected. He'd assumed Ezra's father was a con artist or gambler or something of that sort. Never in his wildest dreams would he have pegged him as a preacher's kid, or for that matter Maude as a preacher's wife. He was abashed to realize that many of his preconceived notions concerning Ezra were based on fallacy.

"You came here just to tell us this." Chris stated.

"Yup. Promised Mr. Standish on his deathbed that I would look after that child as if he were my own. Always knew that boy had good stuff in him, course sometimes its buried so deep you'd think you have to dig clear to China to find it. Ornery son-of-a-gun. Hardest promise to keep that I ever made in my life. Peyton Standish gave his life for me; I aim to keep that promise no matter what it takes."

Joseph leaned back in the chair and fixed Chris with a fierce look that rivaled Larabee's glare. The crystalline eyes shone back.

"I managed to keep an eye on him all through his growing up years. Was a struggle. Maude never left that boy in one place very long. Dragged that child from pillar to post. Every half-baked relative she could dig up. Taught him conning and gambling and lying and cheating. She said she was teaching him a trade. I think she was trying to drive out every bit of his Daddy. Ezra didn't stand a chance. He did what he had to do. Boy's a survivor. Made out of strong stuff, just like the Reverend. Rode with that boy all through the war and followed him out west when it was over."

JD broke in, "You rode with Ezra during the war?" disbelief colored his tones. "Ezra's from the South, but you're, uh…."

Joseph grinned and shrugged. "Yes, well, I rode with Ezra. You understand? Ezra. That's another story, boy for another time."

"What do you want from us, Joseph?" Chris was anxious to find Vin, who he was sure had found Ezra.

"My heart's failing. Doc says I might see out a year. Maybe more, maybe less. Want somebody else to know the truth. Somebody else to speak truth to that man. From what I hear tell, you all would be the right men."

"Why?"

"Fair question, Mr. Larabee. I'll tell you, because he's still here."

"He ran out on us." Chris held up his hand to stay the protest.

"Not surprised, Ezra's been running for nigh on thirty years. Hard habit to break. Important thing is, Mr. Larabee, he came back. Lots of reasons to run, only one to come back."

"What? What made him come back, what makes him stay?"

"I'd guess that same thing that made him join up with you all in the first place."

"And that would be?"

"You, Mr. Larabee. Don't you realize that?"