Hazel '04: Exuviate (part II)

"Order! Order!"

The gavel rapped solidly against the desk Judge Travis was glaring out from behind. He hammered it another time and the general assembly began to quiet, settling back into the pews marching up the tiny church that was pulling double duty as a courtroom.

Vin shook his head. They'd all started applauding and murmuring support the moment young Cody Shearouse had adamantly proclaimed his eldest brother's innocence, just as they'd done when Cady and Cale had said the same. Reminded him of damn sheep - happy and willing to go along wherever nudged, no questions asked, thank ya kindly. Landram's Mill seemed to know only one thing anymore - the path of least resistance.

That showed itself in the citizenry, angry with Ezra for daring to speak up. None of them wanted him to churn the still waters of this place, despite what silence represented. Just easier not to face the ugly underbelly that was being slowly dredged up, easier to just keep on enduring like they'd been for the past several years under the Shearouse clan's rule.

It was evident in the sheriff and the deputy, hemming and hawing over the dead men in the street this morning, nervous and shifty when Vin had asked them about looking for that third in the shooting party. He could tell they weren't going to be willing to push for answers or round up a posse. Hell. There wasn't even a jail in this damn town.

Even the undertaker was a spineless wonder. Came and collected the bodies, never once directly addressing Vin or the others, hiding himself in plain sight in case they up and asked who the dead men were.

Vin had recognized right off the sheriff, deputy and the undertaker were all familiar with the men going cold outside their bunkhouse. He'd also seen quick none of them were going to be the cooperative sort. The rest had known it as well; they'd grumbled but hadn't pursued it. Nothing the four of them could do against a whole town. Leastwise nothing direct.

He shook his head. They didn't need any of them - he and the boys would get it handled their way, same as always. Vin knew pretty well what to look for and he'd been meticulously searching the whole day. He'd find it. Was just a matter of paying attention and biding his time, two things Vin happened to be quite comfortable doing.

Travis waited a moment, gavel hovering above the desk. When the restored quiet held he turned to the witness seat, pointing the gavel at the young man poised uncomfortably on the chair's edge.

"Mr Shearouse, just to make sure I am clear let's review your testimony." He waited until the witness nodded then continued. "You are contending that you and your three brothers - including the defendant, Mr Clay Shearouse - were together at your remote cabin at the time of the killings?"

Cody Shearouse nodded vigorously. "That's right, Judge. Me'n the boys were making our winter place ready for the year's hunting and living. Just like we do every season." Cody's gaze darted to his brothers where they sat just behind Clay then back to Travis. He nodded again.

"Don't know who'd say he weren't there but that's not how it was. Clay was with us the whole time. Ain't no way he'd have been able to kill that stage driver." Cody's icy-pale blue eyes were wide and guileless.

Travis pursed his lips. "Indeed," he muttered. "Nor the two passengers I would assume?"

Cody stared at Cale for a long minute. Vin held in a snort - obviously the questions hadn't followed exactly what Cody's older brother had instructed him to expect.

Finally Cody shook his head, his close-cropped, white-blond hair gleaming against his scalp. "No way, Judge. Clay's innocent." He set his jaw and stared at a point past Travis' shoulder.

Vin shared a look with Chris. He shook his head. The kid wasn't as good a liar as his two older brothers. Chris' lips bunched wryly and he eased back against the pew, once again hidden behind Buck.

The three were occupying the pew in the back left corner, an unobtrusive yet potent presence in the small courtroom. From here they could see the whole interior of the church, had good cover on the door and Vin had a clear line of sight on Ezra.

When the Shearouse brothers had filed in past them they'd all shared long, appraising looks, each man measuring the other up. Chris, Buck and Vin hadn't flinched, calmly staring up at the bunched trio blocking the aisle. It wasn't long and Cody had cracked, gaze skittering away, the kid turning to find a seat. Cady had been close behind.

Cale had stood a moment longer, pale blue glare boring into them with obvious threat and animosity. It hadn't bothered Vin. He'd faced worse, cool demeanor further bolstered with the knowledge he wasn't facing it alone.

When Cale had spun away Vin had looked up to find Ezra studying him from the front pew reserved for witnesses, green eyes neatly assessing. Vin had nodded, half-smile stealing over his face as Ezra continued to study him. At that Ezra had smiled back and turned away, settled with that perfect, effortless posture once more.

Travis sighed. "Mr Jameson?"

Clay Shearouse's lawyer stood crisply, straightening his clothes. "Yes your honor?" he asked with bright politeness from behind the narrow table that had been set up opposite the judge's.

Travis rolled his eyes and waved a hand. "You don't need to stand every time I say your name, Jameson."

Thom Jameson nodded and remained standing, one hand lifting to hold his jacket lapel, the other tapping lightly on the desk.

"Have you any more questions for your witness?" Travis asked, watching Jameson intently.

"No your honor, no, thank you. Though I certainly would also like to thank Mr Cody Shearouse for his candor and willingness to -"

Travis knocked once with his gavel, lips thinning along with his patience. "Save it, Jameson," he instructed tersely. He pushed the gavel into his other palm, waggling the handle at the attorney 'representing' the territory. "Anything from you, Mr Wrenn?"

Lowell Wrenn came to his feet in a hasty, scattered motion. He pushed at his horn-rimmed glasses, shaky hand stroking back over his mostly balding head, smoothing the few comb-overs that remained. He shuffled through a few pieces of paper, rearranging them in front of him then cleared his throat.

"No, Judge. No questions at this time." Wrenn's eyes cast about skittishly and he nodded nervously then dropped back into his seat.

Buck cursed and came forward in the pew. Vin looked over and watched as Chris' hand wrapped around Buck's upper arm, knuckles whitened over with the strength of his grip. After a minute Buck shook himself - not loose from Larabee's grasp, simply of his anger - and subsided back against the bench.

Vin understood it well. Wrenn was a complete waste far as he was concerned. The man was either in Shearouse's pocket or scared shitless and unwilling to risk going against them, just like the rest of this town. So far the little weasel hadn't asked a damn thing of anyone. Vin's jaw tightened in disgust.

Travis shook his head. "Very well." He spun the gavel. "You may step down, Mr Shearouse."

Cody gripped the arms of the chair and sat for a second before pushing up to stand. He nodded. "Thanks, Judge." Cody smiled encouragingly at Clay as he passed and slid into his seat next to Cady on the brothers' pew.

Cady knocked Cody's arm with his elbow and Cody knocked back, the two grinning at each other.

Vin shifted in place. "Nice 'n subtle, ain't they," he grumbled.

Buck snorted lightly. Chris just worked his jaw and continued to sear a hole in the back of Clay's head with his glare.

"Mr Jameson," Travis began.

Immediately Jameson popped up, chest puffing out.

Travis' eyes closed briefly but he didn't comment. "Do you have any other witnesses?"

"No sir, your honor." Jameson patted Clay's shoulder with a confident hand. "We feel convinced Mr Shearouse's innocence has been well proven here today." He swiveled in place, looking back into the church, nodding at the people congregated.

He'd have said more but Travis dismissed him pointedly. "Very good then."

Travis flattened his hand, fingers motioning up and down. Jameson clued in and took his seat.

The judge raised a brow. "Mr Wrenn?" His tone had hardened, stressing the name.

"Yes, yes Judge?" Wrenn squirmed in his chair, patting at his sweaty brow with a white handkerchief.

Travis pursed his lips. "Witnesses, Wrenn. Call yours."

Wrenn nodded jerkily. "Yes…yes," he repeated distractedly. He sat for a long time staring at his hand now resting in his lap, fingers knotted in the white cotton.

The Shearouse brothers turned between themselves, murmuring, heads tilting in Wrenn and Ezra's direction. Jameson pretended not to hear.

Conversation started to buzz around the church, restless stirrings overtaking the crowd as Wrenn continued to brood. Vin was considering the worth of clipping the man with a non-lethal shot to get him moving when Travis' gavel ripped through the growing noise.

"Mr Wrenn," he barked. "Your witness. Now." His brown eyes narrowed to hard slits as he stared, not letting Wrenn escape him.

"Ezra Standish," Wrenn stammered hurriedly as he stood, knees clashing with the table as he freed himself from his chair.

Didders of laughter sounded around the church. Travis speared the room with his glare, letting it roam, quelling the errant giggles.

Wrenn heaved in a breath and tugged at his suit coat. He rolled his shoulders then nodded. "I'd like to call Mr Ezra Standish, Judge."

Vin couldn't help but smile as he watched Ezra move, appreciating the cool, collected façade that regarded almost everyone with equal opportunity disdain - the scowling Shearouse clan, Jameson, the people watching him with sour faces. Not even Wrenn was spared.

Ezra had added a nicer vest and black ribbon tie to his outfit but was still in the brown quilted coat, black pants and muslin shirt. His riverboat hat had been brushed clean, boots dusted of mud. Even without all his usual flashy finery he looked good - damn good.

Vin watched alertly, enjoying having a reason to just stare.

When Ezra was settled Travis held out a bible. Ezra regarded it for a moment then laid his hand over it, palm barely brushing the worn leather.

"Do you promise to tell the truth in this matter, Mr Standish?" Travis asked levelly.

Ezra looked at the bible then up to Travis. The witness chair was at the narrow end of the table the judge had been fitted with, facing the crowd.

"Certainly," Ezra answered firmly, faint smile teasing his eyes to sparkle.

Chris tilted forward and perked a brow at Vin. Vin managed not to grin full out in response. Travis had asked just the right question, probably on purpose. Vin wouldn't doubt if the judge had composed the words just for Ezra - the older man well knew better by now.

Buck looked at Chris then Vin. He grinned and stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles far under the pew in front of them. Arms wrapped over his chest, eyes half-mast he relaxed, waiting for Ezra to begin.

Travis hefted the bible back onto the table and nodded. "Very well. Mr Wrenn? You may proceed in examining your witness."

Wrenn took off his glasses then put them back on. He circled around the table and came to stand in front of Ezra. "Mr Standish." He started pacing absently then sucked in a breath then plowed on. "Your statement can discredit those of Cale, Cady and Cody Shearouse?"

Ezra nodded. "Indeed," he answered simply.

Wrenn managed to nod back importantly. "And you would willingly give this statement if asked?"

"Of course," Ezra said carefully. "That is why I am here."

"Thank you, Mr Standish." Wrenn mopped his brow and stuffed the handkerchief into his pocket. He glanced at the row of Shearouses then looked at the judge. "No more questions."

Wrenn beat a hasty retreat back to his chair. He flopped into it as if completely exhausted. His thin shoulders collapsed forward and he breathed raggedly, the white cloth reappearing to worry between his fingers.

Vin's whole body tensed. He glanced over - Buck's eyes had narrowed further but they were no longer mildly bored or amused. Chris was also tautly displeased, fingers dusting his holstered gun.

"Bastard," Vin spat out on a whisper.

Buck leaned close. "Coward, Vin. 'Bastard's' too kind for that little turd." He pulled away, blue eyes blazing.

Vin considered that a moment then nodded, teeth showing when he smiled ferally. "How 'bout both?" he offered.

"That could do." Buck tightened his arms around his chest and nodded, looking away to frown in Wrenn's direction.

Travis cleared his throat. "Mr Jameson? Do you have any questions at this time?"

Jameson rose efficiently, nodding to Clay as he gained his feet. He locked his hands behind him, clasped at the small of his back. "Thank you, your honor," he smiled at Travis.

The judge almost resisted rolling his eyes. He waved a hand, speeding Jameson along.

"What is the nature of your statement, Mr Standish?" Jameson came to an easy stop a few feet from Ezra, facing the crowd, hands still behind him.

Ezra lifted a brow. "The truth," he drawled baldly.

Vin grinned. Stupid prick deserved that.

Jameson was momentarily disconcerted. His hands opened and fell to his sides and he turned back to stare at Ezra. He caught himself then nodded. "Yes, of course Mr Standish." He smiled again, lips widening with weak, oily smoothness.

"Allow me to rephrase." Jameson bowed his head. "I am to understand you have evidence to offer that will refute the claims of the good Shearouse men who have stood witness before you on this day?"

"That is correct." Ezra folded his hands in his lap, expression calmly inscrutable.

Vin shook his head. "Man keeps this up we'll be here all damn day," he muttered over Buck's shoulder.

They'd all learned long ago that Ezra answered only what was asked - that wily southerner wasn't going to give anything to Jameson.

Buck shrugged. Chris just quirked a bare smile, gaze locked forward.

Jameson coughed. "What is your exact statement, Mr Standish?" he asked, each word sounded with emphasis.

Ezra's eyes brightened. "That Mr Clay Shearouse and I met and played a game of poker together in Eagle Bend during the course of which he detailed to me his and his father's involved culpability in an attack on a stagecoach just a few miles out of Landram's Mill resulting in the deaths of three individuals." He smiled mildly, head tilting smartly.

Vin just resisted cackling.

Chris leaned across Buck. "There ya go," he whispered with sly humor and nodded.

Jameson spread his hands, palms held up in the air. "Doesn't it strike you as somewhat farfetched to believe that a man who had just committed cold-blooded murder during a horrendous crime - one that would have made him on the run from the law - would then sit down to a leisurely game of cards?"

"I learned long ago it is the better wisdom not to question the motives of others, good sir. It is, and always will be, an exercise in futility." Ezra shrugged one shoulder in an elegant round.

Jameson swallowed and searched the wall behind Ezra for a long minute. Then he let out a slow breath. "Tell me about this alleged game," he requested, voice cracking as he tried to steer Ezra in a different direction.

Ezra smiled obligingly. "Certainly," he said, gold tooth glinting. He nodded. "It started simply enough and as most games do. A short discussion had us deciding on the manner in which we would contest one another and then we made our initial blinds to fatten the pot. I began by dealing out two cards each.

"Mr Shearouse called on the blinds and when betting came to me I anted." He winked, voice pitching to sound affably conspiratorial. "You see, my hand displayed wonderful promise with its matched pocket eights. Always a charming start, that."

Vin crossed his arms over his chest and let his butt slide forward so he could lean further back in the pew, mirroring Buck's elongated pose. His lips danced with a smile. Buck was scoffing just under his breath and Chris was chewing on his lower lip, fighting a grin. Vin stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles. This was looking to be good.

Ezra shrugged, tone evening out again. "Mr Shearouse readily saw my raise and so the first round of bidding was done. Next of course I laid out the flop." Ezra chuckled.

"Now, imagine my surprised delight upon seeing an eight and a queen, giving me wonderful odds of running a full house by the turn or, on a greater gamble, the river." He grinned. "Even if I hadn't managed to pull another queen I had confidence in the strength of my hand. A tray of eights is truly a thing of beauty, I must say."

Ezra sat forward in the seat, warming to his tale. "I immediately raised the ante when Mr Shearouse checked to me. Next I -"

"Mr Standish!"

Ezra blinked, expression one of bewilderment and affrontery. "Mr Jameson?" he drawled back.

Jameson's face was purplish-red, perfectly coifed dark hair starting to look mussed. His left hand was bent under, fingers tugging in a nervous give at the white cuff peeking out from under his herringbone suit coat. He approached Ezra's chair, breath huffing.

"I wasn't asking you about the cards," he rapped out, each word markedly hissed.

"Oh. Weren't you?" Ezra managed to look blandly confused. "Do forgive me for being obtuse, but I quite distinctly heard you request that I 'tell about this alleged game.'" He raised a brow. "I assume that is not what you meant after all?"

A bark of laughter escaped Buck's chest. Jameson whirled and glared back at them. Buck didn't even bother trying to look contrite.

Vin jabbed Buck with his elbow. "Easy there, Bucklin. You'll throw him off his game," he murmured.

Jameson turned back to Ezra slowly. He lifted his hands and patted at his hair then straightened his coat. He drew up to full height then paused, fingers again working at his cuff as he appeared to think something through.

"Mr Jameson?" Travis eventually prompted.

"Oh yes. Of course, your honor." Jameson's greasy smile returned. He turned to Ezra. "This game you claim to have engaged my client in - from your explanation it seems the two of you were the only contestants?"

Ezra nodded easily. "Indeed."

Jameson narrowed his eyes and tsk'd theatrically. "Each one of Clay's brothers assured this court they were with him at the time of the holdup. Each one swore to his innocence. That is three upstanding members of this community, Mr Standish. The very same community that was so closely affected by that terrible stagecoach incident." He had started pacing slowly, ticking each point made with a finger.

Jameson came to a stop.

"Yet after all that, here you ask that we believe your singular, unsupported claim and wild accusations?" Jameson shook his head sadly. "As a man who gambles for a living you should know three to one doesn't stack the odds in your favor."

Vin scowled, resenting Jameson's returned smugness and the thinly veiled suggestion that Ezra being a gambler made him a liar. Buck and Chris both shifted, each equally bristled.

Ezra only nodded, still outwardly unaffected. "I ask nothing, sir. I am merely making a pronouncement of fact." Green eyes chilled. "There is no gamble here," he drawled coldly.

Jameson regarded Ezra for a moment then shook himself away from the unflinching stare. "So you say," he said, more an aside for the audience.

"Is there a question somewhere in there, Jameson?" Travis barked.

Jameson's dark gray eyes narrowed. "The same as before - why do we have believe you, a sole witness disputing the word of three others?"

"You don't," Ezra said plainly.

Vin straightened in the pew, pushing up with his feet. He furrowed his brow, staring at Ezra, wondering where this was going. He knew Ezra was telling the truth - all Ezra had to do was say so. Damn stubborn man.

Jameson laughed. "Well then. What do you propose we make of your 'pronouncement of fact?'" he challenged mockingly.

"Make of it what you will," Ezra clipped flatly. "I maintain it is the truth. My function here it to give my statement and that is all. The onus of swaying opinion is on you, Mr Jameson."

Jameson strode close to Ezra, one hand falling to land on the chair's left spindle, using their physical disparity to loom over the other man.

Vin came forward in the pew, not liking Jameson's somewhat threatening posturing. He gripped his mare's leg unconsciously, preparing to strike.

Buck's hand patted his arm lightly.

"Easy there yourself, stud," Buck murmured. "You keep on growling like that and Travis might hafta say something."

Vin scowled at Buck, unaware he'd even made a noise.

Buck winked. "C'mon, Vin. Ain't like Ez don't know how to work outta a corner." His lips lifted in a lopsided grin. " 'Specially ones he's worked so hard to get himself into."

A touch mollified Vin nodded and turned away from Buck. He didn't loosen his hold on his gun.

"I'd say I've more than met my onus," Jameson proclaimed loftily. "Three sound witnesses. Mr Shearouse's claims of innocence clearly backed. The only doubt in my mind - likely the entire court's - is about you, Mr Standish."

He leaned closer. "I guess that makes the onus yours, now doesn't it?" Jameson sneered politely.

Ezra sighed lightly then shook his head. "So it would seem," he answered.

Jameson stood sharply and grinned at the Shearouse clan, sweeping his arm to encompass the crowd as he continued to smile. "Well then," he smirked. He paused a moment then turned back to Ezra. "Mr Standish? We are waiting."

Vin chewed on his lip, his shoulders tightening with growing tension and anger at Jameson's petty showiness. He was almost off the edge of the pew, hands now gripping the rounded end with a fierce hold.

Chris and Buck were also actively alert, waiting, ready for Ezra to nail the arrogant son of a bitch.

Ezra reached into an inner pocket of his jacket and produced a bundle of papers. He laid them on the desk at his elbow. Next he pulled out a small velvet bag. That joined the papers. He took up the first from the pile and unfolded it neatly. Green eyes sliced through Jameson with unforgiving intent. He cleared his throat.

"I have brought with me two sworn affidavits from witnesses who can authenticate the veracity of my statement." Ezra waved the paper in his hand. "The first is from the proprietor of the Eagle Bend Terrace," he looked up and scanned the crowd, "that would be the establishment that Mr Clay Shearouse and I met over our game of cards," he explained.

Ezra snapped the paper. "Witnesseth whereof Mr Griffin Mayfield does duly swear by his honest and good name that on the date acknowledged and written below that he did witness one Mr Ezra Standish and one Mr Clay Shearouse conversing together at the Eagle Bend Terrace. Mr Griffin Mayfield holds no doubts as to the identity of the two men as both were introduced when he made their acquaintance as he served them a round of the house specialty at Mr Clay Shearouse's request."

Ezra handed the sheaf of parchment to Judge Travis then took up the next in the pile.

This one snapped crisply as well.

"Witnesseth whereof Mrs Judith Pimplin, widowed survivor of Mr Henry Pimplin, driver of the Garrigan Brothers North-South Grand Stagecoach Line and killed while en route from Landram's Mill to Chester's Point on the date acknowledged and written below, does duly swear by her honest and good name that the property levied in a bet with one Mr Ezra Standish by one Mr Clay Shearouse did, at one time, belong to her now deceased husband, that being a gold engraved man's pocket watch reading simply 'Judy and Henry' as was given to her now deceased husband five years past on the anniversary of their marriage."

Ezra passed the affidavit to Travis then plucked up the small velvet bag. He turned it out onto his palm, producing a pocket watch. In gold.

Ezra held the pocket watch out for Jameson to take.

"If you could, sir," Ezra smiled coldly, "please read the inscription on the back."

Jameson hesitated then snatched the watch from Ezra's waiting hand. His eyes narrowed murderously.

"Judy." Jameson's jaw clomped shut. His nostrils flared.

"Do go on. I believe there is a bit more?" Ezra continued to smile.

"And Henry," Jameson finished tightly.

Vin sighed, filled with proud relief and an unabashed sense of tasting sweet comeuppance. He eased back in the pew, blue eyes glittering with ruthless enjoyment. Buck and Chris settled back with him. Vin had never doubted Ezra - it just felt a whole hell of a lot better seeing Ezra take the upper hand like Vin had known his friend would.

Travis made a gimmie motion with his fingers. Jameson relinquished the pocket watch.

Ezra nodded then picked up the last sheet of paper. He offered it to Jameson. "I'll leave the honors to you, sir," he stated condescendingly. "You're doing so well." Green eyes gleamed.

Jameson took the thin parchment and unfolded it slowly. It trembled in his hands. He read over it quickly then closed his eyes.

"Mr Jameson?" Travis broke in. "We are waiting."

Jameson licked his lips and sighed. "This is a legally binding summons ensuring the presence of Mr Mayfield and Mrs Pimplin to this court should it be deemed necessary to hear their testimony in person."

The paper fluttered when Jameson's hand dropped in a heavy arc. "Both have signed and are willing to make the trip."

All the air had gone out of the room. The Shearouse brothers were shifting uncomfortably and sharing worried looks. The crowd had quieted completely - no one even coughed. Travis was busy reading through the papers, one hand playing absently with the pocket watch. Jameson stood, completely flummoxed, eyes staring unseeingly at the floor while the color drained from his face.

Ezra waited them out, not quite bored, not quite interested, face just his usual calm, confident mask.

Travis rubbed his eyes and laid the last paper down. "Jameson?"

The lawyer turned slowly, nodding.

"Have a seat," Travis said quietly. He pointed at the summons still in Jameson's clenched fingers then held out his palm.

Jameson gave it over without a word, the abused, crumpled paper sticking for a moment to his skin before letting go to fall against Travis' hand. He turned away and slunk back to his chair, looking quite peaked, lips compressed in a tight, white line. He sat carefully, studiously avoiding contact with Clay and the other Shearouse boys.

"Ezra - Mr Standish," Travis corrected. "Why didn't you bring this to my attention before?"

"No one asked," Ezra answered - as if that were perfectly reasonable and obvious.

Travis scowled. Buck huffed none too softly and Chris just shook his head. Vin covered his grin with a hand. Ezra looked past the crowd and caught his eye. Vin winked. Green eyes sparkled before shadowing once more, turned away to meet Travis' waiting gaze.

Ezra shrugged, forestalling Travis' visibly welling outburst. "Certainly I'd have brought attention to these statements in due time were the matter not addressed during the natural course of these proceedings." He smiled mildly, one finger running back and forth along the edge of the table.

"Certainly," Travis muttered darkly. He let out a long breath then pushed himself up, straightening his shoulders. "It didn't occur to you that it'd have simply been easier to bring this up first?"

"Just as it would have been easier for only my statement to be sent to this -" Ezra paused and swallowed, mouth tightening. His voice was mellow when he started speaking again. "You insisted on my presence for this trial, your honor," he stressed. "I have dutifully fulfilled this enhancement to my obligations." Green eyes narrowed. "What is said in person at the times of greatest advantage says the most. Don't you agree?"

Travis frowned, deep lines cutting from the tips of his mouth down into his jowls. He cleared his throat but didn't respond otherwise.

Vin watched the two. Ezra's unyielding gaze hadn't left Travis. The judge wasn't pleased at what Ezra had said but neither was he arguing. Vin thought about those last words then shook his head.

Likely Ezra had just thrown at Travis the bullshit that had been offered when Ezra had been told he'd have to come to this damn place and testify.

Travis took a drink of water then said in a softer tone, "Why don't you tell me about what you learned from your encounter with Shearouse." He raised a brow. "Keep it clear and direct and I want to know everything. I won't be spending the rest of this day chasing after you with questions. Hear me?"

Ezra studied the judge a moment more then looked away, eyes scanning the crowd indifferently.

"I was in Eagle Bend on private business, staying at the Eagle Bend Terrace. I had just sat down for the evening when Mr Shearouse - Clay Shearouse - approached my table. He asked if I played and I replied certainly. He took that as an invitation to join me.

"Our game did not last all that long but during the course of it I was able to discern that Mr Shearouse was quite ill at ease. Conversationally I enquired as to his demeanor and what had caused it." Ezra smiled crookedly and reached up to scratch his ear with his thumb. "Quite surprisingly he answered me - in total." He made a short musing sound. "Although, I do not believe the liberal amount of alcohol Mr Shearouse consumed in the short time we played can be completely discounted in that regard."

Vin squirmed in the pew. He was heartily sick of sitting still - sick of the heat and smell of the people filling the church, sick of wading through all the talk and backtalk, sick of having Ezra so far away. Now that they were finally to the crux of things he found his patience had suddenly run too thin to bear much more.

He let his eyes flit around the room.

Wrenn's elbow was propped on the narrow table, cheek resting against his palm, the other hand raised, fingers playing idly with his thinned hair.

Jameson was actually leaning in his chair away from Clay. The repeated, nervous glances he sent behind him at the brothers was starting to look like a tic.

The crowd had started to lose interest. They knew Shearouse had been routed. They were just holding on for judgment, waiting for that gavel to strike, condemning a son of their damned failing town.

Chris was steady as ever, motionless and alert. Buck was showing signs of restiveness, unable to keep any position for very long, fingers playing with the fabric of his trousers, his moustache, the small fray wearing on his belt.

Travis was focused on Ezra.

Ezra just kept on talking, even southern drawl commanding the room, soothing Vin's restlessness.

"In as succinct a summation as can be managed I learned that Mr Shearouse and his father - Cargen Shearouse - had held up a stage leaving Landram's Mill. Cargen had sustained injuries during the attack." Ezra's brows came together. "Apparently what they had been anticipating to find on the stage was not present. This enraged Cargen, thus leading to the deaths of the driver and the two passengers."

Green eyes glared at Clay. "Which is not to suggest that this Mr Shearouse's involvement came from being an unfortunate victim of circumstance."

Ezra stared a minute longer then turned back to Travis.

"The two Shearouses had been charging for the border, fleeing from justice after the killings. However, Cargen perished somewhere along the trail. Clay was passing through Eagle Bend on his way back to Landram's Mill to collect his brothers, intent on the four returning to provide their father a proper burial.

"After Mr Shearouse left my table I informed the local sheriff of the conversation that had transpired between us and left the matter to his capable hands. I since learned the sheriff detained Mr Shearouse and sent for aid. A marshal arrived to Eagle Bend but two days later and escorted the prisoner back to Landram's Mill to stand trial."

Ezra opened his hands in a graceful, unaffected gesture. "Which brings us here," he finished curtly.

Travis nodded, apparently satisfied. "What of the statements you got from…" he lifted the papers and read off the names. "Mr Mayfield and Mrs Pimplin?"

Ezra's brows lifted and he made a small 'ah' noise. He nodded.

"As soon as it was evident I was to become embroiled in this sordid intrigue I secured the affidavit from Mr Mayfield then made inquiries to the Garrigan Stagecoach Company about the murdered driver." Ezra shrugged. "From there it was an easy matter of contacting the woman and ascertaining the origins of the pocket watch Mr Shearouse had lost to me during our game." He smiled coldly. "The poor widow was more than happy to oblige my request for assistance."

Travis pushed the handle of the gavel against his forehead, denting the wrinkled skin with a small circle. He nodded. "Thank you, Mr Standish. Your testimony in this matter was certainly informative." The gavel dropped and he met Ezra's eyes. "And appreciated," he added dryly.

Ezra inclined his head, hands folded neatly in his lap.

"You may step down, Mr Standish." Travis sighed lightly and let the gavel knock dully against the table.

Ezra stood fluidly and walked past the Shearouse clan, expression blank, easily ignoring their angry glares. He didn't return to his seat at the front, instead floated blithely down the center aisle to ease in next to Vin.

Vin grinned sidelong at Ezra, whole body flushed with breathless heat when Ezra pressed close against him, the small pew necessitating the four men squish in to share the space. He resisted enfolding the shoulder nestled tight to his with an arm then reminded himself to resist again.

Buck shimmied towards Chris, giving Vin a bit more room. He pretended not to notice.

"Mr Jameson."

Jameson did not stand.

Travis assessed the lawyer with a long stare. "In light of Mr Standish's statements I will offer your witnesses the single opportunity to recant their given testimony." He waved a hand over the affidavits Ezra had produced. "It will save me the burden of proving these out before this trial can be concluded."

The judge came forward, leaning across the table, gavel end pointed at Jameson. "If they admit to their perjury here and now no charges will stand against them and won't be pursued. But this is their only opportunity." The gavel bit into the tabletop. "Understand, Jameson, I make no promises about what I might find as to your involvement with their tainted evidence."

Travis stared another hard minute then sat back slowly, eyes straying to take in each of the Shearouse brothers in turn.

Jameson craned his head to talk over his shoulder, whatever he was staying barely audible as strident hisses. He shook his head, one hand reaching out too slowly to prevent his client from moving.

Clay stood abruptly. "They'll be taking the deal, Judge."

All three brothers started to protest but Clay twisted in place, pale blue eyes snapping fire. Immediately all dissention ceased.

Clay turned back around. "They're lying, Judge. Figuring they can protect me - but it's past that now and I won't see 'em fall." He took in a short breath and squared his posture. "I killed that stage driver. I told it all to that damn slick gambler, too, lost that watch I took in the robbery sure 'nough as well." His voice was even and eerily calm. "I'm ready for what you have to give me, Judge. Just leave my brothers out of it."

Part of Vin admired the grit it took to have made such a statement.

The admiration was cut to its quick considering what all Clay Shearouse had done with his short life to deserve what he was facing now.

Vin closed his eyes - he knew what was coming next. Even with Clay having earned it Vin hated listening to the gavel drop. It was too close to his greatest weakness and fear.

Suddenly the air around him got too hot, too thin. There wasn't enough to breathe.

He pushed up and clamored over Ezra, doing his best to look composed when all he wanted to do was bolt for the door. Ezra's hand gripped discretely around his thigh just above his knee and Vin paused, looking down.

Green eyes were unwavering, full of acceptance and understanding.

Vin swallowed against the rush of nausea and too much saliva and nodded. It was all he could do.

Ezra's hand eased away. Vin missed the reassuring warmth but he needed space. Needed it now.

He shot out of the church and stood on the small porch, sucking in the cold air, eyes closing while he fought for equilibrium. He let himself drop back against the pine-shingled wall, tension rippling through his limbs.

Vin's hat brim bunched at his neck when he leaned his head back. His breathing was steadier now, calmer. Just being outside made a lot of difference. He opened his eyes, blinking against the mist pushed into them by the stinging wind.

He rolled his head to the side and shifted his weight back in his heels, listening. He could still hear inside. Travis was in the middle of his verdict.

"Therefore, with no refutable claims to the evidence before me that you are in fact guilty of this crime I sentence you, Clay Shearouse, to hang by the neck until dead, punishment to be carried out tomorrow just after dawn."

The gavel knocked sharply, ringing through the hollow silence that followed Travis' words.

The wood of the pews and floor groaned, wet earth grinding underfoot as the crowd stirred itself.

Vin imagined the marshal, sauntering to collect Clay, slapping on the wrist irons and jostling him past his brothers back to the boarding house and the guarded room they'd been keeping him in.

Travis would remain seated, watchful and waiting. Chris, Buck and Ezra would wait the rest out as well.

Vin felt mostly balanced again. The drizzle had leeched the uncomfortable, itching heat right out of him. The distance he'd put between himself and the tight clutch of people wasn't much, but it'd been enough. He breathed in then back out, nerves and heartbeat no longer hammering at him with persistent dread.

True to his thinking Clay and the marshal emerged from the church door, Clay's shoulders pinched and tight, the marshal pushing him along with no kind regard.

As the crowd filed out Vin turned. He waited on a thin spot then pushed inside, wanting to get back to Ezra. As he passed he knocked shoulders with Cale Shearouse.

Vin pulled at the brim of his hat with a finger. "Pardon," he drawled lightly and bobbed his head.

Cale sneered at Vin, pale blue eyes surging with barely repressed rage. His teeth flashed and he came forward, fingers curling to tight fists, but his assault was short-lived.

"C'mon, Cale," Cady snapped, hands gripping around Cale's elbow. "Not here, not now," he warned.

Cody had a hand around Cale's shoulder. "Save it, Cale," he urged.

"This ain't over," Cale snarled at Vin before allowing his brothers to lead him away.

Vin just inclined his head and touched his hat again. He watched Cale intently, eyes narrowing, then he nodded to himself.

Chris, Buck and Ezra were standing together in the back corner of the church, all facing the small room. The townsfolk were keeping a wary distance, gossiping and twittering about the trial as they piled out.

At Chris' raised brow Vin nodded - he was okay. Chris nodded back.

Vin sidled next to Ezra, thumbs hooked in his belt. "Cale Shearouse was the third shooter," he said quietly.

Buck's jaw set and he shook his head. "Son of a bitch," he cursed tightly.

"Pretty much," Vin agreed.

Ezra arched a brow. "Naturally I am curious, Vin," he smiled.

Vin grinned back. He tilted his head, indicating the direction of the retreating Shearouse clan. "Cale's boots have a good bit of heel on 'em. They were nice and brand new clean, real clean."

"So?" Chris shoved the cheroot his fingers had been playing with into the corner of his mouth.

"So," Vin repeated, "the cuffs of his pants looked to have gained a pound or two of mud here recently."

Buck harrumphed. "Man with newly cleaned boots oughta have the better sense to change his damn pants."

Chris and Vin chuckled over that.

Ezra merely grinned, pleased green eyes catching Vin between wanting to preen like a banty rooster and melting down into the molten fire sluicing through his veins.

Chris chewed at his cheroot. "Let's go get a drink. Loosen ourselves up before we face eating something 'round here." He started for the door then paused. "Keep a lookout for them damn Shearouse boys, same as before."

Buck closed in behind Chris, muttering something that made Chris laugh. Vin smiled back at Ezra and waved a hand, offering the way.

Ezra winked and nodded, following the other two.

Vin bobbed his head once. He'd known what to look for. He'd found it. They'd do just fine handling it, same as before.

*******

The swirling mists from that morning had developed into rain; by dinnertime it was coming down in buckets.

Vin lifted his head from the pillow and squinted at the door. He could see the lightning pulsate through the gaps in the frame, vibrations in blue-white, violent and jagged. Thunder came without cease, rattling the bunkhouse.

It felt like the very earth was shaking.

Rain drummed overhead in a constant drone. The wind pushed into the cabin, curling around the corners as it channeled through the small alleys, howling as it chased.

Vin watched the lightning, enjoying the limited view of the impressive display. He always thrilled at a good storm.

He sighed, again having the desperate want for a window to break the dark enclosure of the small bunkhouse. He would like to be able to see more than the staccatoed flares that haloed the door.

Ezra shifted next to him, legs meeting his in the center of the narrow bed. Vin shimmied towards them, welcoming the pressing contact. His brows knit and he shook his head.

It felt like just last night he'd been in Ezra's room; it felt every bit the near two weeks. He was ready to be home. He wanted to be back in Ezra's bed. Wanted to find out how much better Ezra could make it.

Vin closed his eyes.

He simply wanted Ezra - simply, strange and true.

Thunder clapped so loudly it made him jump, the sound stinging his ears, rumbling in his chest like a second heartbeat. Vin felt the proximity of the instigating lightning in his skin.

He eased back down onto the pillow and tried to get comfortable, restless for no good reason.

"Are you all right?"

The quiet words seemed louder than the punishing storm. Vin blinked and focused on Ezra, watching as the lightning threw the handsome face in shade and sharp relief by erratic turns. He nodded, not sure what to say.

He was fine.

He wasn't at all fine.

Ezra came closer. "Not just now," he murmured. Green eyes narrowed. "I should have enquired earlier."

Vin smiled softly. His momentary panic in the courtroom as Travis had been about to deliver the verdict had been just that - momentary. The feelings had since lifted, his comfort further ensured by the strength and surety of his three friends.

"I'm okay, Ez. Just … too close there for a bit." Vin shook his head, hair scratching against the pillow, rasping in his ear.

Ezra studied him, looking for what Vin didn't know, but eventually Ezra nodded back and sighed down into the mattress and bedding.

Vin chewed at his lip then closed his eyes. He reached out with his hand, knowing exactly where Ezra's was. He wrapped his fingers around Ezra's and gripped tightly, holding for a long minute. Then he relaxed and pushed his fingers between Ezra's, palm laying against the back of the strong hand, fingers entwined.

"Thanks, Ez," he breathed.

Ezra's fingers tightened and rubbed over his.

He throbbed with subtle awareness, the whole of him funneling to the single point where their skin rested in heated contact.

Vin had never sought another man's hand for reasons other than a familiar greeting or the infrequent need to assist in enduring against pain. It never had occurred to him to want this - he'd never have invited such a jolting intimacy.

Ezra's hand under his was solid and warm. If he tightened his fingers he could feel the steady pulse as if it were his own.

Vin opened his eyes and studied their hands, clasped and shadowed between them.

He lifted his other hand and traced his temple, smiling softly.

Ezra's breath was drawing deep and smooth again. He'd fallen back to sleep, thumb caressing Vin's skin in unconscious circles.

Vin tightened his fingers and his eyes closed. He was suddenly no longer restless or apprehensive, mind settled to the calm plainness of his hand in Ezra's.

Thunder and lightning, the wind and the rain - all kept steady with their brutal fury.

The bunkhouse groaned, lashed viciously by the storm, but Vin didn't notice.

He was gone - asleep - filled with gentle, amorphous dreams that reminded him of the vital, heady intimacy of Ezra's hand in his.

*******

"This is fast becoming a dreadful habit."

Vin glanced at Ezra and smiled. It was just before dawn and the four were trudging across the muddy street, making their way to the backside of town and the temporary gallows that had been erected the previous afternoon.

They were going to witness Clay Shearouse getting his then get home. Vin figured them to stay long enough to make sure the poor bastard was dead and no further trouble would come from it then they'd ride on. The marshal would be accompanying Judge Travis' stage out of here, freeing them up to cut across the land and tempt Notch Pass a final time.

He was more than ready to go.

Buck chuckled, the normally ebullient sound diminished in the wet and the cold and the temperance of the grim event to come. "Shit, Ez," he sighed. "Ain't like bed's much better 'round here."

Ezra caught Vin's eye, greens alive, slanted and secretively knowing. "Hm," he mused, tone giving nothing of his expression. "Perhaps," he finally allowed.

Vin flashed back then checked himself and looked away. He flexed his fingers, nails digging at the tiny ribs of denim along his thigh. He'd come awake that morning to find Ezra's hand still in his, lying silent and content in that dingy, narrow bed, staring his fill, so damned pleased at having that capable hand fitted to his.

"I find it is not just longing for a feather bed well after the cock crows," Ezra added. He squinted up at the clouds then regarded the dreariness surrounding them. "I am heartily sick of this oppressive mizzle."

Chris shook his head. "Was doing the same back home." Absent fingers wiped beaded moisture from his brows and cheeks.

Ezra frowned. "It is worse here," he muttered darkly.

"Much worse," Vin agreed.

Same or not it was worse. Vin had found no reason to alter his opinion of Landram's Mill. He knew the only thing he'd ever like about it would be leaving.

Chris looked at both of them and nodded. "Yeah," he breathed tiredly, eyes shadowed with the unease of fatigue and dislike.

The four pushed on through the mud-clogged street, shifting their attention as they neared the gathered crowd and the looming specter of the hangman's arm. They slowed then stopped, tensing in readiness, surveying the scene.

The gallows had listed to the left during the night and the storm, the saturated earth not able to support it levelly. Water ran down the angles and gathered then fell in continual, heavy drops from the edges of the wood. One of the corners of the small, newly built platform was completely submerged in a dirty puddle. The noose had been tied; it hung straight down, ominous and silent. Gravity would do its job, despite the wet.

Vin grunted with dry, black humor. Sutter's ruined shack had found a purpose.

Most of the town had shown up. They were huddling in the light rain, some bothering to complain about the weather but most just waiting, anxious to see regardless of the wind and wet. The group made a loose horseshoe surrounding the gallows, a measured distance of respect between them and the threat the plain construction represented.

Breakfast after hanging.

So the scrawled sign on the restaurant had read.

Judge Travis was ankle-deep in mud so wet it was almost water, just to the side of the short set of steps that led up to the platform, hands folded in front of him. He appeared completely impervious to the rain falling on him, the rain he was standing in.

On the fringe of the onlookers stood the three Shearouse brothers, Cale in the middle, pale eyes hard and over-bright, body so tense one could almost hear it hum. Vin knocked Ezra's arm and lifted his chin towards the boys. Ezra gave them a long, measuring stare then nodded back.

Nothing ever good came from a man looking like that.

The four spread out, working in intuitive accord. They stayed back, keeping to the edge of the crowd, watchful and alert.

Wisely Ezra took the furthest position from the Shearouse clan, expression set as he slogged through the mire. He stopped even with the gallows then turned slowly in place to face back into the gathering, arms loose at his sides.

Chris took the opposite side, left hand wrapped around his back holding his duster, right hand patiently firm on the butt of his gun. His mere presence dared the Shearouse brothers to just try it.

Buck and Vin split the difference, Buck next to Chris, Vin next to Ezra.

The assembly shushed when Clay appeared, uncannily aware of him even from behind. The marshal was pushing him along, the two marching unsteadily over the churned muck. Clay was holding himself straight and stiff, arms tied behind him, head up, pale eyes defiant.

Vin shook his head. Man still looked scared shitless.

Everything was strangely silent as Clay passed the crowd and mounted the three steps. The wind seemed distant and muffled, fat raindrops coming down without sound. Even their boots made no noise, wood so wet absorbed the footfalls.

Clay stood, tight-lipped and tense as the noose was shoved down his head and righted against his neck. The marshal tightened the knot enough for it to stay then gave Clay a nudge. He stepped up onto the waiting crate and swallowed, ice-blue eyes casting hollow with realization, resignation and morbid anticipation.

The marshal leaned down and tied a rope around Clay's legs just above the ankles, tugging it firm and knotting it twice. Clay teetered, jostled from the tugs, already unsteady on the sinking platform. The marshal stabilized him then moved a step back.

A distant crack of thunder startled the crowd where they stood. Someone laughed, an anxious flutter of nervousness.

Vin was checking on Ezra when he heard it.

Shotgun fire, ripping through the eerie silence.

He ducked and swiveled in place, mare's leg swiftly drawn and ready, eyes wide and alert.

Cale had broken ranks from his brothers, rifle propped against his hip, long knife glinting in his other hand. He was breathing hard and sweating despite the cold rain, clammy sheen making him look yellowed and deathly pale in the gray half light. His eyes moved frantically, darting between Travis, the platform and through the crowd.

Cady and Cody looked as surprised by the maneuver as everyone else, locked in uncertainty where they hovered behind their brother.

"Ain't no one hanging Clay," Cale gritted out from between his teeth. "Y'all are just gonna be nice and calm then we're riding outta here." He glared. "No need for anyone to die."

Vin was too far to do anything direct. He sidestepped through the mud, eyes never leaving Cale, mare's leg raised. His peripheral senses told him Ezra was moving as well and the crowd had started to get antsy.

"Cale!"

Vin planted his right leg, letting it sink down and down so it wouldn't shift out from under him, his gun trained on Cale. He checked his aim then split his focus, watching both brothers as the moment unfolded.

Clay was turning on the crate, small shuffling half-steps bringing him to face his brother. Pale blue eyes were narrow, glinting with warning and outrage. He grimaced and barked again.

"Dammit, Cale!"

It was all the distraction the others needed.

Chris closed the short distance to where Cale stood in rush and kicked his spur into Cale's shin. Cale pitched forward with a pained cry, only to be wrenched up again, Chris' fingers pushed under Cale's hat to tangle in the short, white-blond hair, viscously twisting the man off balance.

Buck ran through the mud, heedless of the wet flying around him and up to coat his legs, four long lopes taking him to Cale's other side. He brought his left hand down in a quick arc, knocking the rifle free to sink into the muck, right arm knocking clean against Cale's jaw. He hopped back when Cale staggered, keeping clear of the swinging knife.

Chris kicked Cale again, this time behind the knee. Cale went down hard, both knees submerging deep into the mire, mud wrapping around his calves. Chris' gun pressed into the base of Cale's skull and stayed there.

Travis had stepped forward, muddy boot closing down on the rifle, marooning the weapon to uselessness down in the cold sludge. He looked to Chris then past at the remaining Shearouse brothers.

From here no one seemed to know quite what to do.

Ezra was still at the far point of the circle, Remington drawn but not raised. The marshal had his gun out as well. It was pointed at Clay, ready to do a fast job of the execution if Cale decided to push the point.

Cale was still kneeling in the mud, head pulled back, scalp red under Chris' punishing grip.

Buck had backed off enough to cover Cady and Cody, gun skinned, resting lightly at his thigh.

Thunder cracked and reverberated. A woman's voice broke over a gasp, spooked at the sound so like the shotgun.

The coming storm was getting closer.

Vin eased his stance enough so the mare's leg could go for any of the three Shearouses. He straightened back up then waited, just like the rest.

"Cale, you gone full stupid boy?" Clay demanded hoarsely.

Cale didn't fight against Larabee's hand, only acknowledgement of his brother's slur the further paling of his skin, blue-tinged lips curling in a grimace.

"Cady! Cody! You get him and you hold him 'til this is done. Hear me?" Clay still had the upper hand, despite it all.

The younger brothers shuffled to Cale immediately, neither waiting for Chris to let go. They jerked him back up to stand with them, four hands now restraining Cale's desperate bid.

Travis studied Clay for a moment then nodded, willing for this to be handled - in any way - just so long as it was ended, here and now.

Clay scowled darkly at Travis then looked away. He lifted his chin towards his brothers. The noose bobbed up and down, still-slack rope dancing. "You're the oldest now, Cale," he said. "Means you're in charge."

"Goddammit Clay!" Cale pulled at his brothers' holds, a brief side-to-side struggle, blue eyes blazing insolently. "Don't have to end this way!"

Clay narrowed his eyes. "Don't you fuckin' blaspheme, Cale."

Cale's lips tightened and he clenched his jaw but he didn't argue. His shoulders sagged, losing some of their rigid starch.

Clay nodded again. "You have to handle things from here out. Take care of 'em." He paused, giving those words greater significance. "It's the way it's got to be - Pa left it to me now I'm leaving it to you."

Cale's chin jutted out mutinously. "Clay -" he balked.

"Cady and Cody need you now. You get your fool self killed going through with this and that'll leave Cady in charge and we both know he ain't for it yet." Clay glared at his brother, jaw set, having none of it. "You know what hasta be done."

Vin came forward on the balls of his feet, ready to spring if need be, hand tightening around his mare's leg. He watched each of the Shearouse boys, one at a time, studying them. Clay was hard-faced, resigned to his fate and blazing angry about it. Cale was losing the fight and he knew it. Cady and Cody still held Cale's arms, one each. Cady had dropped a hand and was lightly fingering his holstered gun. Cody was still holding desperately tight, pale eyes afraid.

Finally Cale shook his arms loose with a forward tug. "Fine," he spat out. After a moment he gathered himself, seeming to come to peace and a new resolution. "I'll see it done, Clay. For you and for Pa." He nodded. "Get you buried then take care of all the rest. My word." He looked across the crowd and pinned Ezra with a steely glare then tipped his hat to Clay, shouldering out from between his brothers.

Cady and Cody followed suit, each dusting their brims at their eldest brother before going to stand with Cale, shoulder to shoulder, once again at the edge of the crowd. The younger two looked relieved, determined and a touch scared. Cale had lost that feverish edge - who knew, maybe some of that crazy heat had been doused in the mud - but he was still agitated with repressed threat.

The rain picked up, falling faster from the darkening sky, wind a dull, miserable whine. The sky split with a deafening rap of thunder.

Travis stared at the three brothers then glanced at Chris.

Chris hadn't holstered his gun but it hung easy in his hand next to his side, an imminent danger. He nodded, two slow steps backing him to give cover on the brothers.

Travis turned away. He looked up at the marshal.

"Proceed."

The low, even timbre carried on the wind, calm and sure of justice's work.

Vin stared, certain he didn't want to watch, certain he couldn't look away.

Travis nodded and the marshal set himself, holstering his gun, expression hidden, eyes hard and duty-bound. He made a final check of the ties holding Clay's wrists and ankles then without preamble kicked the crate and stepped away.

Clay's long body made the short drop with a sickening crunch, head snapping to the side.

It didn't kill him instantly but death wasn't taking its time.

Clay twitched, fighting to breathe, fighting against the inevitable end closing in around him. His legs jerked and straightened, tightening as he convulsed, shoulders locking, arms trembling behind him.

His pale blue eyes widened then dimmed and his mouth fell lax, small line of drool slow and sticky on his chin mingling with the rain.

Nerves and muscles spent their last, tremoring the lean form with bizarre animation. Clay's head rolled forward and his body surrendered, losing all tension in the way that only death can bring, spilt bowels darkening a stain along his legs.

Vin turned away but couldn't shut out the final gargled exhale. He shook himself, vowing once again that'd never be him - ever - no matter what it took.

When he looked back Cale had mounted the platform, long knife in hand, dulled with a thick coating of mud. Cady and Cody were just behind.

Cale footed the crate next to Clay's body and stepped up, the blade making quick work of the straining length of rope. The younger brothers caught the corpse between them, shouldering the ungainly weight as it dropped down then slumped, head and limbs collapsing towards the ground.

They eased the body to the platform then Cody took off, foregoing the steps to land with a slow spray of mud-thick water then righted to push unseeingly through the suddenly immobile crowd. Cale stood over the remains, eyes hard, knife clutched tensely against his stomach as if someone would deny him the right to take his brother.

Heavy, slopping steps sounded behind Vin. Cody appeared from the wide alley leading behind the church to the gallows astride a tall dapple, three horses tied in behind him. The horses plodded carefully, a tight knot of slipping hooves and flinging mud.

Cody threw the reins of the back two horses at Cady then brought the fourth to the edge of the platform. The broad dusky gray was without saddle and gear, not even a bridle, just a thin strap of leather knotted close to its neck, nudging against the jawbone, other end tangled in Cody's white-knuckle grip.

Cale hefted Clay's body, shouldering into the pliant middle, arms wrapped to lock around it. He took a careful step then turned the body and slung it over the dusky gray, clutching the soaked shirt with tight fists to slow the descent.

Cody sidestepped the horses and Cale jumped down after them into the bog surrounding the gallows. He made short work of centering Clay's deadweight on the horse's thick barrel then tied the dangling arms and legs together underneath.

Clay's lifeless head knocked against the gray in time with the choppy gait when Cody led them away, mud lifting from burdened hooves to spray the white-blond hair.

Cady dropped onto his horse from the platform and followed, resolutely ignoring the interested crowd as their stares lingered after them.

Cale came around his horse and stilled, turning to blaze angrily at Travis, raking that pale-blue gaze across the span of onlookers to land on Ezra. He narrowed his focus with obvious intent of threat, lip hitching in a sneer.

Another long minute and Cale jumped fluidly into the saddle, eyes never leaving Ezra. He kneed into his horse and the light paint nodded then set off after the others, ears flat with displeasure as it struggled through the clinging mud.

Vin eased his finger off the trigger, shaking with a wild tremor of release and fear, watching as the knife Cale held went flying through the air to bury into the hangman's arm where the cut rope dangled, thick handle vibrating from the impact.

He'd believed for a breathless, paralyzing moment Cale had intended it for Ezra.

Rain fell heavier now, drops losing their pattering rhythm as they sped. The wind picked up, dragging the rain through the air. Thunder roared; it was no longer distant. It crackled overhead then rolled across the sky, rumbling along the dome of the earth.

The Shearouse brothers were disappearing into the rain, riding away from town into the heart of the looming storm, gone to wherever it was Clay was going to rest without waking.

The crowd seemed to breathe a collective sigh, that indefinable mix of relief and disappointment and acknowledgement of moving on. They shifted then started breaking apart, moving as a discordant whole, returning to the ordinariness of their daily lives.

Vin holstered his mare's leg and waited. Travis and Chris shared a few words then Chris' gaze found his.

Chris nodded and Vin nodded back. He turned away and knew he'd never look again.

He remained until Ezra was with him, started walking just by feel of having the man at his shoulder; there was nothing like the heat and awareness he had of Ezra. They picked their way through the muck, hats low, faces bent from the rain, together in silence.

They'd already saddled up, their horses ready for them inside the relative dryness of the overhung corral next to the livery.

A line of people trailed out into the street, waiting to enter the restaurant, a bedraggled thread of gray-blue and mud, just like the rest of this damn town.

The rain started dropping in sheeting curtains, one after the other arcing sideways in overlapping waves. Screams and rattles punctuated the drone of the tumbling water as the wind forced its uncaring hands down the narrow street, through the squat buildings huddled there.

Vin unhitched Peso and stepped into the saddle. He wheeled them away from the livery and let Peso set the pace, knowing Ezra was just behind him, Chris and Buck soon to catch up.

*******

Notch Pass opened before them, the narrow, winding trail stretching towards the bruised sky. Water ran along the inside edge of the rocky ledge, burbling and chasing in a storm made fall. The ledge shone hard and clean, dull and slippery. The water was dense with silt, tumbling and churning, reminding Vin of the great rivers that divided the lands, taking the earth right with them.

He stared a hard minute at the opening of the pass, thinking about all that water and all that rock and the long drop down, then shook it away. They were wet through and through, cold and miserable and ready for it to end. One last time the Notch had to concede to them; one last time they'd agreed to risk its worth.

Peso grunted and jerked at the bit. Vin patted his black's neck and let out a sigh. "Yeah, I hear ya," he breathed.

An animal's better sense. All the more reason not to linger.

Vin ignored Peso's rumbling and kneed in, the horse unwillingly obliging to follow Buck up the serpentine ascent. Chris had gone in first; Pony bit hind ends if made to trail after. Lady was patient and agile and wouldn't start at the fact that Pony also had a habit of back-kicking when uncomfortable.

Notch Pass was definitely uncomfortable. So Buck and Lady went next.

Vin was going in after and Ezra at the rear. Chaucer would lightly dance across the ledge as nimble as an open field. Ezra would grin, take a drink from his flask and look none the worrier no matter the sheer drop an arm's length out. That brazen comfort of both elected them for going last, tempering the potential bolts and balks of the rest.

The rain had tapered off but remained a wet presence, hanging dismally as if clinging to the very air. The past day of travel had been equally dismal; the overnight had been worse. Notch Pass would be the last hurdle then they could speed the familiar, easy trail the rest of the way home.

Vin thought about being home and safe, warm and dry at last. He thought about being warm and dry, safe at home with Ezra. He gritted his teeth as they pressed on, quelling his doubts and tickling vertigo threatening to break the veneer of his calm. Home, safe and dry with Ezra would be worth every second on this rocky ledge.

The horses picked at the trail carefully, dislodging rock and splashing the tiny river that funneled along the corner. Pony was pushing through the narrow at the midpoint, Chris' legs pressed tight, toes tucked under the horse's barrel. His knees still scraped the sidewalls.

Peso slowed naturally when Pony disappeared from view, waiting while Lady navigated the close fit. Once through the notch all that was left was the descent, shimmying alongside the ridgeline while they paced above the canyon dropping below.

Vin grimaced when his knee jarred into the rock, not able to brace his foot in the stirrup folded to Peso's underbelly and lessen the pressure. It hasped wetly against the denim, crumbling bits falling onto his thigh as they pushed past. Peso came to a stop, deciding to be stubborn about going further, not wanting to step over the low rock bridge that trussed the trailbed between the notch's sides.

"C'mon, git," Vin urged. He leaned forward and nudged with his hips, feet useless where they were pinned beneath Peso.

Peso snorted and shied back, head twisting in ornery malcontent.

The denim pulled and gave. Vin gritted his teeth when the rock sliced through his skin. The scrapes wouldn't be deep but they stung, biting his flesh, dirty rainwater flooding to rinse his blood away in rivulets down the notch wall.

Vin growled and punched Peso's withers with the side of his fist, hard enough for the mule to feel.

"Git!" he barked sharply.

His fist was drawn back and ready for another blow when Peso's hide twitched over then the black was moving, all four legs raised then lowered neatly over the rocky obstacle. Peso closed in on the ridgewall and knocked Vin against it, dragging him against the wet rock to vent the displeasure.

He pulled his head away and rode it out, no room to yank Peso in the other direction and not go careening off the ledge. Vin braced his legs and held determinedly so he wouldn't get brushed off then raised his fist and punched Peso again.

The black nickered darkly and surged sideways, slapping Vin a last time into the wall before straightening away to begin the slow climb down.

"Stupid cuss," Vin hissed. "Turn ya into glue," he threatened.

Peso snorted and tugged at the bit, as if reminding Vin it wouldn't take a lot to send him toppling down the canyon side to the water-logged basin far below.

Vin grumbled and clamped his hand over his knee, scratching at the cuts before making himself stop.

They took two steps then Peso halted again, stamping the ledge, tail and ears flicking with uncertainty. Vin slapped the reins and dug in with his heel - hard - but Peso wouldn't budge.

He stilled when the rock pressing into his shoulder started trembling. Vin tilted his head up and squinted into the sky, searching for lightning, searching for anything that would make the ground shake.

Peso whinnied and stamped again, fear rising from the black in palpable waves.

Vin's unease was matching his horse's steady rise. He shifted in the saddle and forgot about making them move one way or the other.

Pebbles clumped thickly with mud and streams of water topped the ridge just above him, cartwheeling down the rockface to scatter on the ledge in front of them. Peso grunted and lifted a foreleg but didn't budge.

The rumbling was audible now, low and tense with captive vibrations.

Larger rocks rained down from above, rolling and tumbling in a loud clatter. The debris on the ledge built up then started to give, the wet mass beginning to slide off the rocky shelf.

Chris and Buck had both stopped, craned in their saddles to look back at Vin. They waited anxiously, without words or answers for what to do. Vin turned, suddenly frantic, searching for Ezra. The man had remained on the other side of the notch, Chaucer holding a placid stance, keeping a safe distance from the growing disturbance.

Ezra was staring at him, green eyes fixed and calculating.

Vin managed a nod.

He winced when a large stone thumped down onto his arm. Another soon followed, cracking off Peso's head before bouncing away, lost down into the canyon.

Peso screamed and half-reared, hooves clacking without solid purchase on the slippery ledge when the black came back down.

Vin curled close to Peso's neck and held on then started talking fast, trying to soothe and duck the larger stones that continued to fall around them. Peso fought and half-reared again, teeth flashing against the bit when Vin pulled sharply on the reins.

The ledge was shaking now, rattling the pile of rocks and Vin's bones. The rumbling was turning into a dull roar.

"Back," Vin commanded, tugging on the reins. "Back," he repeated again and again.

Peso hedged and dipped his head then stilled.

"Back," Vin urged.

Peso nickered and complied, taking a hesitant step back. They stumbled over the rocks and Vin's breath left him in a cold rush, his gaze automatically riveted on the belly of the canyon, distant and dizzying with certain fatality.

He grabbed the saddlehorn and wrenched himself back centered over Peso.

Peso took another step back.

The world was quaking. He heard it, felt it in his skin; it chattered his teeth with the force. Peso kept backing. The rockslide slowed then stopped then all was still.

Vin eased Peso with a gentle 'whoa' and they held, trapped between the notch behind them and the sludge blocking their way.

His eyes widened as he watched in disbelieving horror when the ridgewall bulged, small, dark cracks fissuring the reddish-brown rock, the straining bubble flexing in a dangerous throb.

A second later it burst open with a deafening rush.

Water poured from the rock in a violent flume, the friable sandstone breaking away without resistance under the onslaught. The ridgewall crumbled and collapsed into itself, swept aside in the thundering tide.

The water kept coming, fast and furious, boiling out of the rock as if alive. The funnel widened and the water sluiced over Peso's nose and a heartbeat later it was drowning Vin.

It rapped against his chin harder than a set of curled knuckles then enveloped him completely, shutting down his senses with debilitating thoroughness. He couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't breathe. Vin fought to even remember.

He opened his mouth to scream - at Peso, at Ezra, at anything - water filled it, stretching his cheeks, forcing its way down his throat and up into his nose. Vin turned against the rush and tried to spit it out but was too disoriented; he jerked in an abortive wheeze when the brutal wave penetrated his lungs.

The water was everywhere. The water just kept coming.

It was cold and unyielding - it pushed as solidly as an angry hand.

Vin had no idea of forward or back, no sense of the narrowness of the rock ledge or the gaping maw they were in danger of tipping into only inches away.

Peso lurched and Vin broke free. His neck arched back and he gasped, water choking him even as he coughed it loose. He could feel it in his gut, sloshing queasily. It surged up his esophagus and drained from his tear ducts and nose. Vin sucked in another broken draught of air and Peso lurched again.

"Back."

Vin concentrated on the voice. It sounded so far away.

"Back."

Peso was going without a fight, cowed from the staggering violence of the water and eager for an escape. Vin blinked and continued to pull in air. His heart was racing and he was clinging to the saddle so tight his fingers felt like they would never pry loose. His hat was gone and he was drenched to the core, small measure of water pushing in his boot when he wriggled his toes.

"Back."

They stepped awkwardly through the notch, Peso scrabbling to find footing as they slowly backed their way over the low rock bridge then one more ungainly stride and they stopped.

Vin closed his eyes and simply breathed. His head was pounding and his arm hurt where the rock had fallen on him and his insides ached. None of it was pain beyond his endurance - Vin didn't figure he had more than bruises - but he was reeling. Now the world was spinning too fast for him to catch up.

"Vin?"

He kept blinking and fighting the dulling black that wanted to settle over him. His breathing burned and the water filling his stomach made him sick. His heart drummed maddeningly in his ears, desperate in the work of pumping oxygen to his deprived body.

"Vin?"

Peso shifted beneath him. Where they were started to filter back into his awareness: the rain and the wind and the narrowness of the rocky ledge; the water rushing past the surrendered ridgewall; the indistinct miles and days of nothing but blue and wet and gray.

"Vin?"

The tone got through to him - tangible, concerned, ready to help. Afraid.

He shook himself. "M'okay, Ez. Just… need another minute." His voice was weak and rough.

Ezra didn't ask again.

Vin heaved in breaths and watched as the dots obscuring his vision closed in on themselves and eventually disappeared.

The world came back.

Water was still flowing through the newly punched crater in the ridgewall, no longer the violent rush but maintaining a swift, full pace. He could hear it now, distinguish the wet crashing from the droning roar that had overtaken his brain.

The rain was there, like always, smudging streaks blurring the land. Clouds packed thickly overhead, weighty and oppressive, resting on the shoulders of the earth. The wind channeled through the notch and whistled down the canyon walls, taking the raindrops with it, scattering them in whipping shards.

Peso's nose was poked through the notch. Vin's bloodied knee was safely tucked on the other side. The rock was darker ochre from the rain, the solid arch holding steady and sure, no indication that only a few feet from it rock once just as solid had been blasted clean away and continued to crumble.

Chris and Buck were waiting, each twisted awkwardly in the saddle looking behind them, a fair distance away. Vin couldn't see their eyes.

He waved with his hand, grunting and pulling his arm back in when the bruises protested. Vin lifted his left and waved again.

Buck waved back first then Chris. Still they waited.

Vin stood in the stirrups and circled his hand in a back-sweeping motion through the air then pressed his palm flat towards them, waving them on - wasn't like he and Ezra were going to make the jump and catch up.

After a moment the two acknowledged his signals and Chris turned away, Pony already in motion. Buck stared another minute then tipped his hat.

They'd see one another again back home.

Vin looked behind him and smiled wanly. Ezra was patiently vigilant, standing between Peso's rump and Chaucer's nose. He nodded.

"Let's get this done." His voice still croaked but it was marginally stronger.

Green eyes made a quick survey of him and Peso then Ezra seemed satisfied and turned around.

Vin laid his palm flat on Peso's croup and patted, his other hand pulling the reins. "Back on," he urged.

Peso tossed and Vin patted again then the black snorted and took a grudging step backwards. Vin stayed bent around, watching Ezra, doing his best to guide Peso as they creeped back along the ledge.

Ezra had one hand cupped around Chaucer's jaw, the other tangled with the reins, lightly stroking the horse's chest, unhurried steps matching Chaucer's slow progress. "Back-easy-there ya go… back-easy-there ya go…" he repeated again and again, soft and soothing.

They approached a section in the ridgewall that scooped away from the ledge, widening the trail. Ezra gently pushed Chaucer into the rocky niche, backing the animal until its hindquarters were pressing into the stone.

Vin held his breath when Ezra passed carefully under Chaucer's neck, hands swiping along the chestnut hair and tense muscles, working to ease the horse's anxiousness.

Ezra straightened and snicked at Chaucer, hands still stroking, smooth and proud. He looked up and threw a wink at Vin then turned around, leading them down the path.

Vin nudged Peso, intent on copying Ezra's maneuver. He didn't think about the narrowness or the hollow sound of Peso's hoof chunking the lip of the ledge or how the long way down would only prolong the inevitable as he tumbled to the bottom.

Instead he tightened his knees and his jaw and led with his inside leg.

"Back on in, Peso, c'mon."

His voice was calm but insistent. Peso followed the command, scooting rump-first into the alcove. Vin's heart seized when they lurched backward, Peso's body twisting under him; it seized again when they moved forward then thrummed unsteadily with relief.

They rode down in silence, surrounded by wind and rain and the quiet acknowledgement he'd almost been killed.

Vin caught up with Ezra at the end of the trail. He looked his friend up and down and frowned.

"How'd you get Peso to come outta that water?"

Vin hadn't been able to hear a thing when surrounded by the flume. It stood to reason Peso hadn't been able to either. He'd been thinking on it as they'd made their cautious descent, not liking the pictures that came to mind of Ezra boosting out of the saddle - not liking the variances of tragedy that could have happened that his imagination harbored on and replayed with unwelcome vibrancy.

Ezra's eyes sparkled and he shouldered alongside Peso, facing forward, one finger crooking as he smiled up at Vin. He leaned against Peso to avoid being kicked then reached in and tickled the black flank up underneath the hind leg. Peso snorted and took an instinctive step back. Ezra tickled again and again Peso hitched back.

"Stubbornness isn't the only thing he has in common with his owner," Ezra teased with a wicked grin. He rubbed firm circles over Peso's hide then slapped the black's rump and stepped away.

Vin muttered a few choice words and fought a smile. He couldn't have prevented the sharp heat lancing through him if he'd tried.

Ezra hauled himself into the saddle and settled in, Chaucer pawing beneath him in readiness. He looked over, green eyes narrow, all traces of humor gone.

"How are you?"

Vin's arm ached, throbbing in time with his growing headache and he would have happily thrown up to lessen the weight of water lying in his gut. His throat and lungs felt like they'd been shredded and he was so tired and just so ready for it all to be over he fought a tremor of weak tears.

Those green eyes and the ready, sincere concern made him answer, "Mite banged up but I'm just fine, Ez." He smiled crookedly. "I'll have Nate look me over when I get home - talk him outta some of that tea that makes ya feel good'n drowsy."

Ezra nodded. "Most sensible. See that you do."

Vin figured Ezra would make sure Nathan saw to him but he didn't mind - didn't mind the help and certainly didn't mind the attention from Ezra.

He held the steady gaze and said softly, "Thanks."

Ezra studied him a moment more then nodded, accepting the gratitude for so much more than the simple query. They both smiled, full of relief, reestablishing equilibrium and something more, warm and intangible.

"Should we post some sort of warning?" Ezra asked, turning away to regard the trail now devastated and impassable.

Vin glared at the muddy, pocked mouth that led into the notch. "Don't know what - ain't nothing around to use." Piling rocks or even a few rustled up branches wouldn't make much impact; determined travelers would just step around and keep going.

Ezra considered their surroundings and nodded. "I suppose we could send a few cables upon arriving home." He dismissed the ruined trail and shrugged easily. "Word will find its way once out. Besides," green eyes flashed with a smile, "I would surmise the only fools tempting the notch in this miserable weather are about to depart."

"Yup," Vin nodded, squinting into the distance. "I'll bet Chris and Buck have gotten out from the other side by now."

Ezra laughed openly and shook his head. He pulled his hat down in the front, secured his collar then kneed in. Chaucer nickered and they started on their way, curving down from the trailhead of Notch Pass to skirt the narrow canyon.

Peso started naturally to follow. Vin lifted in the stirrups and tugged at his soaked pants. "Needing anything from Eagle Bend?"

He couldn't think what Ezra would want to stop for at this point but it never hurt to ask. Watching Ezra reminded him he'd need a new hat but he had no patience for looking. It would keep.

An arched brow was his only answer. He laughed and nodded, easily agreeing with the assessment.

"Thinking we can just cut for home - not like we'll get lost 'round here." Vin lifted his chin, small gesture encompassing the familiar countryside. If they had no business in the nearby town there was no reason to find the road and add on the miles and time of getting to it.

Ezra nodded. "Suits me."

Green eyes continued to stare at Vin; it didn't unnerve him but finally he broke, laughing and shaking his head.

"What?" he demanded with a grin.

Those eyes caressed him, reverent, lustful, no longer afraid.

"Just further appreciating the outcome of what could have been a singularly horrifying day in my -hmm- particularly unique life." Ezra smiled, small and gentle.

Vin's eyes widened and his face fell, demeanor abruptly sobered. He jabbed Peso with his toe and they closed the gap to Chaucer and Ezra. Without hesitation he grabbed for Ezra's hand and held it, awkward from the distance and motion of the walking horses.

It felt so good, even with the cold clamminess of his skin and his bruised arm reminding him it should be resting against his side.

"Yeah," he managed after a beat, now staring back, letting Peso find the way. His lips quirked. "Thanks for not tumbling down 'fore you had the chance to rescue me."

The tiny smile vanished when the pictures came back, creative and gruesome, the end of each always the same: Ezra a wrecked, broken heap partially submerged in the dirty water surrounding the vaulted rock face that thrust Notch Pass into the sky. Vin shivered.

The hand in his tightened.

"I wouldn't have dared," Ezra stated firmly.

Vin held the green gaze and smiled, reminding himself it hadn't ended differently, that they were right here, fine and together. His smile split into a teasing grin.

"Better not have," he ribbed. "Crawling down there after ya woulda been a bitch."

Ezra's lips pursed, bowing upwards within the restraints of his smile. "Indeed," he breathed shortly.

The tone was flat and almost affronted but Vin knew better; he was smiling back, knowing no foolishness about grinning widely, completely soaked, unkempt and hatless. He gripped Ezra's hand then let go, the strong, capable fingers sliding over his as he withdrew. He shivered again.

Ezra's dimple deepened and his eyes sparkled, aware of the shiver and aware of the cause. He tilted his head, eyes narrowing in thought. "It might not help much but perhaps you would be more comfortable if you put on a dry shirt?"

Vin nodded. "Yeah, was just thinking on that." He looked down at himself - he was drenched to his skin. There'd be no getting out of his wet denims and the clinging longjohns but being somewhat drier on top would be welcome.

They rode in silence while he went about the business of stripping down and searching through his saddlebags. He left his union suit unbuttoned and split away from his waist and put on both shirts he had tucked in there, layering one over the other. He smiled when one of Ezra's muslin shirts fluttered to land against his thigh. It wasn't exactly cold but he wouldn't be getting any warmer; he shrugged into it thankfully.

Vin considered his coat and decided to push back into it. Despite being stiff and soaked it would keep him drier than staying exposed to the continuing rain. It didn't much bother him - there wasn't anything left ideal to this trip anyway.

A glance at Ezra had him amending that last thought.

"JD keeps a spare, you know."

Vin frowned. "What?"

Ezra fingered his black brim. "Hat," he provided with a smile.

The implication was not lost on Vin. "I sure as hell ain't wearing no damn bowler," he grunted. Just the idea of perching that tiny hat on his head made him twitchy. "'Specially not one of JD's." Vin shook his head - he'd never hear the end of it.

"You may be right - it wouldn't do to allow JD to come to the conclusion that his choice in headgear is actually acceptable." Ezra's smile widened.

Vin smiled back, still shaking his head. "Naw, just wouldn't wanna look stupid."

Ezra reached across, swiping the length of Vin's moist cheek with his fingertip. "Impossible," he murmured, green eyes darkening.

He knew he was staring. He knew he didn't care. Ezra clearly didn't care either, staring back at him so intently.

The wind picked up, rifling through his hair, scalding its way to penetrate his layers. The wet denim seemed to hold the cold, longjohns laying in thick, rough folds on his skin.

"Time for dry socks," Ezra informed him.

Vin sighed but didn't argue. It wasn't the easiest task to perform on horseback but he knew it'd be worth the added comfort. They were still several hours from home; his toes might wrinkle up and fall off in protest if he didn't.

He drew Peso to a stop, Ezra slowing and stopping alongside. Vin threw his left leg over, scooting back so he balanced sidesaddle, facing Ezra. He tugged at one boot, smiling when Ezra calmly held out for it.

"What do you think is the cause for this unending drear?" Ezra took Vin's other boot, holding the pair a safe distance from him to drip mud onto the saturated ground.

Vin snagged his finger in the top of his sock and peeled it away. He fished around for a dry pair and tucked it against his groin then peeled off the other. He found himself idly surprised and grateful that only his hat had been dragged away by the water and that nothing in his bags had been as drenched as his person.

His remaining dry bandana was sacrificed to his feet. Vin rubbed at the pruned skin vigorously before working the dry socks on. He made a short gimmie motion and Ezra handed him a boot.

"Think it's the ocean," he said, breath escaping in a huff when his heel knocked down into the boot. He took the other and pulled it on. Vin paused, fingers wrapped around the top of his boot, foot suspended in the air. "Like, from the ocean."

Vin pushed his cuffs back into place, wet denim stubborn to move across the leather of his boots, and shook his head. "Don't make much sense. I know."

He balled the wet socks and bandana into a knot and shoved them into his saddlebags then flipped the top back down, taking the time to buckle it securely closed as was his usual habit.

When he looked over Ezra was alert and waiting, expectant for the remainder of his theory.

Vin righted himself in the saddle and pushed up in the stirrups, shifting side to side before settling back down. Dry feet felt a lot better, even with the wet and cold nap inside his boots that would eventually soak into the socks. He nudged Peso and they started again, Chaucer readily following the cue.

"'Bout five years ago I remember it being the same," Vin started. "Wet and raining without seeming to quit. Was down further south then but it was nearabouts like this." He shrugged. "Wind bringing the storms came from the west in both places - and both places that ain't usual for this long a spell." He glanced at Ezra. "Figure all that water has to come from somewhere."

Ezra smiled. "And what is west and very wet but the ocean?" he finished smoothly.

Vin grinned. "Exactly," he nodded, greatly satisfied with talking to someone who so readily understood him - someone willing to listen to and believe his speculations beside.

"How long will it last?" Ezra turned away to stare into the distance, horizon obscured by the dark shadows of faraway rainfall.

He laughed at that; it bubbled up from his center, spilling out with unabashed merriment. Vin waved his hand through the air. "Damn if I know, Ezra," he managed.

Green eyes snapped at him then gentled. Soon Ezra was laughing with him.

The two kept laughing, long after the humor subsided, bound by friendship and traces of relief and again that so much more Vin couldn't yet quite define. He didn't push to name it but he didn't push away from it, instead reveling in the warmth of their shared amusement.

When eventually the last errant snigger faded they lapsed into genial silence, pushing through the wind and the rain that no longer seemed as grim.

They rode the round of the canyon, hard-packed earth easier on the horses than the terrain had been up north, but the mud still slowed them. There was nothing to see or remark upon; the weather had made everything scarce save for the mess it created.

Vin tried not to curse the loss of his hat when the rain picked back up. It was gone, no fixing that now. He sighed when an especially fat drop broke across his scalp and dripped forward to drizzle over his brow. He'd give just about anything for a steaming cup of coffee. And some whiskey. And a plate of Inez's hot food. And a scalding bath. And - most of all - a long night in Ezra's warm bed.

"What has you smiling?"

Vin turned towards Ezra, low hum on his lips. He'd been smiling?

He was saved from answering and the teasing retort he saw dancing in green eyes when gunfire echoed to them, dull and sluggish from distance and the rain. Another round came after then no more.

They shared curious looks and kept riding, watchful but not yet overtly alarmed.

Several minutes later another ricochet rumbled; it was answered, followed by another long pause.

Vin narrowed his eyes. "Sounds like they're just keeping each other interested."

Ezra nodded. "Ten dollars Chris and Buck are maintaining that interest until our arrival." His brow bobbed up and down.

"Hell no," Vin scowled. "I know better. About them - and you."

Green eyes widened innocently but Ezra didn't dispute it; they both knew better.

They followed the echoing reports, riding as far as they dared then they left Chaucer and Peso tied behind, walking the remaining distance as they closed in. Vin felt steadied by the weight of his rifle balanced in his hand and Ezra's presence warm against his shoulder. The end of their search found them crouching on a rocky overhang perched above the small, irregularly shaped canyon that was the trail leading out, strewn with boulders that had tumbled off the rise to Notch Pass.

The rainwater had gathered down in the gorge in deep puddles, shimmering dully in the muted light of a cloud covered sky. The red rock gleamed wetly, dirty with dust melted to mud. Chris and Buck were just visible to Vin's left, flashes of movement behind a sturdy line of rocks, standing fast at the trail mouth that entered the narrow cut of rock up to the pass.

A shot sang through the air, billow of dust rising from the boulder near where Buck's light coat showed itself. Vin tracked it backwards. He thunked Ezra's arm and pointed.

The Shearouse brothers were huddled beneath the ledge he and Ezra were standing on, down and in a sweep to his right. They were shielded by a formidable barrier of rock, the line of boulders easily protecting their fronts, backs pressed against the hollowed out wall.

"Shit," Vin shook his head. "Those bastards musta rode all night."

Ezra pursed his lips. "Their miserable fortune we kept to the Pass."

Vin laughed shortly. "A mite messed up when it seems like our fortune that I was nearly swept right off that damn ledge."

His reply was a raised brow and a slow, small smile.

Ezra's smile faded and he sighed, face setting in determined, hard lines. "I'm going to see where this," he circled his finger through the air, indicating the twisting incline dropping away from them, "leads. Perhaps I can find myself on their flank and prevent an unfortunate exodus."

Vin reached out and gripped Ezra's upper arm, fingers wrapping in a fierce hold. "Ez?"

Ezra nodded.

"Mind yourself," he directed, voice low and tight.

"Of course," Ezra promised.

He waited a breath then let go. Ezra fingered his hat and eased away, retreating around and down the scatter of rocks through the narrow slip disappearing into the canyon.

Vin made himself turn back around and he settled belly-down on the lip of rock, easily ignoring the wet and cold that saturated him front and back. He shouldered the rifle and sighted the pinned Shearouse brothers then he evened out his breathing and waited.

The rain hazed through the air, dancing left then right in random jags. The wind was harsh, blowing up and around, drawing stinging tears to Vin's eyes. He simply blinked them away, focus undeterred.

They continued to exchange volleys, each barrage repelling the Shearouses tighter into the rocky hold with the strength of their combined guns. Chris and Buck held fire in a frontal assault, Ezra's shots coming in at differing angles as he approached and Vin keeping the boys neatly hemmed in with some well placed bullets.

"Give yourselves up! You ain't gonna win this!"

Chris' strained voice echoed within the rocky confines of the rough hollow. His answer was Cale chancing to stand, squeezing three shots to ricochet off the boulder Chris was hunkered behind.

Vin shot the son of a bitch's hat off, shuttled the chamber and a second later blew a hole through his arm.

Cady reached up and pulled Cale down, firing at nothing to hold them back.

The edgy silence came back, howling wind and the rain thrumming into then thrushing down the rocks the only sounds.

Vin's hackles shivered and he tightened his hold and made sure of his aim, mouth drying out as he concentrated, eerily certain it was about to break.

The end of the short standoff was abrupt and violent.

Cale bolted from the tight cluster of boulders, gun in each hand, firing senselessly at their positions. He ran across the muddy ground, boots sinking deep, slowing his irrational spree.

Vin had him dropped with a single shot after a heartbeat, bullet piercing and flying through the frenzied head to burst out the other side. Cale staggered and kept firing, knees buckling as his brain and body failed. He fell forward into the mud with a dull and wet thud, rain filling the hole in his scalp to burble back out, crimson stained as it flowed towards the earth.

"Cale!"

Cady's panicked voice rang through the heavy air. He ran out from the brothers' hold, eyes wide and flashing white.

"Cale!" he repeated, voice ragged and desperate, gaze locked on his brother's fallen form.

When he shot at Vin's perch Vin didn't shoot back - he lined up the rifle and waited, breathing patiently, hoping bleakly for the boy's reprieve. The bullets thumped into the rocks beneath him fallow and harmless.

Buck stood slowly, edging around his and Chris' cover. He sidestepped, facing Cady as he ran, gun loose at his thigh, blue eyes darting and watchful.

"Cady - behind ya!" Cody called out.

Buck grimaced and went down to his knee. Cady spun in place and fired, free arm flailing as he tried to keep balanced. His shot glanced off the rocky overhang Cody was huddled beneath, chest punched through with two bullets from Chris' gun.

Cady's hand flinched and his weapon twirled loose, spinning down to become lost in the rain-soaked clay. His mouth opened and closed in silent stammers, drool and blood frothing down his chin as his body fought to sustain him. He stopped in place and stared unseeingly at his chest then it was as if the strings were cut; Cady fell to the side, arm bent behind him, eyes still disbelieving and open wide.

"No! No - Cady! No!" Cody screamed for his brother, barreling into the clearing, gun raised, hand shaking.

Cody tripped over his feet as he made quick, haphazard turns, gun pointed at Vin then Buck then Vin again. His chest was heaving, pale blue eyes wild with terror and loss.

Buck let his gun go, fingers spreading easy in the air. "C'mon, kid. Just let it down. Nothing more has to happen - nothing, hear me? C'mon," he cajoled gently.

Cody jerked but didn't fire, right hand thrown up as if to stop Buck, left still trembling with the weighty burden of his gun.

Vin tightened his finger on the trigger, following Cody's back, watchful and wary.

Buck continued to croon, advancing on Cody. "C'mon now. You know you're beat - just put that down and this can all be over. You don't have to-"

Cody snapped suddenly, desperate yowl erupting from his lungs. He heaved himself towards Buck, stumbling down into the mud as he began to fire. His shoulder jerked, blossom of blood misting into the rain behind him. Cody's shot went wide of Buck and he kept going down as he tried to fire again.

Ezra stepped out from the rocks just behind the Shearouse's original hold and shot Cody again, this time aiming to kill.

Cody lurched and fell back, feet sticking in the mud so his knees pointed at the sky, the side of his head leaking out into the muck, hand gripping tight to his gun.

"God!" Buck yelled. He tore at his hat and slapped it against his thigh with impotent fury. "Stupid, stupid!" he raged, blue eyes agonized and haunted and resignedly unsurprised.

Ezra holstered his Remington and went to stand beside Buck, clapping his hand around Buck's shoulder. Buck tightened his jaw and looked away from the dead kid, meeting Ezra's gaze with a weary nod.

Vin stood and checked his rifle then made quick work of getting down to the others. He slid down a sloping rock, boots scraping and grinding as he went. He was sprayed with mud when he landed, buried to the ankle. He shook himself free and rounded his way through the boulders.

Chris, Buck and Ezra were talking, discussing the bodies and the horses and the piss-poor weather. They were mostly relaxed but still guarded, adrenaline not quite spent, anger and bitterness and success swirling within them. Those same conflicts ran through Vin, torrid and slow to expire, his great relief they were all still alive.

The wind chattered overhead, whining in pitiful gales as it spun its way around the gorge, whipping and churlish, wet and cold. Down in the rocks was partially sheltered from the rain, the drops lifted and spit back up towards the sky from the cross breezes channeling through. They stood together in a close circle, ignoring the bodies and the wind and rain, each affirming with the other they had come away unscathed.

"Know a guy who'd likely be interested in buying the paint," Vin said, breaking the long silence. He nodded, vaguely motioning towards where the orphaned animals must have been left above. "I'm willing to tie it in, get it on back home to see."

Chris nodded and shrugged. "Don't make a difference to me. Might as well take the other two while we're at it."

Buck pushed between them and knelt down over Cody. He shook his head then shut the boy's eyes, grabbing a handful of shirt and coat as he stood. He dragged the body behind him as he left the gorge, not looking back or worrying over an argument.

"Guess we'll be seeing to them as well," Chris muttered. His hissed out a tight breath but wasn't truly perturbed.

Chris lashed Cady's legs together with the man's belt at the ankles. He wrapped his hand around the leather then nodded to Vin and Ezra and followed Buck, Cady's body weaving brokenly behind.

Ezra sighed but didn't complain. He rolled Cale's body over and held at the shoulders. Vin took up the ankles. The two carried the corpse together, the progress awkward and slow over the slippery, uneven terrain.

Buck had Cale's horse waiting. The three hefted the body up and it flopped loosely over the paint. Vin shook his head and led the animal to Peso, hating the presence of death as much as the black.

They didn't talk the rest of the ride home, their grim cargo and the grim weather etching deeper their exhaustion. The last miles were the longest, seeming to stretch farther and farther, doubling in length as they finally neared Four Corners.

It was dark when they rode in, night and drizzle and the clouds overhead shrouding everything in a heavy, thick cloak. Vin sighed with bone-deep relief when the low spread of familiar buildings came into sight. It felt even better to be between them, their animals taking the lead, knowing well the muddy, rutted street. Buck and Ezra led the Shearouse's horses away, taking them around back of the undertakers.

Peso made for the livery without need for guidance, ducking inside, almost knocking Vin from the saddle. He dismounted awkwardly and walked alongside the black, opening the stall in the back corner. Peso went in readily, turned around and then stood, eyes heavy, coat gleaming, ears low and tired.

Vin stroked Peso's nose. "Thanks," he said. The beast was as ornery as they came but had never let him down. He gave a final pat then sighed, willing to do the necessary chores of bedding Peso down but not up to it.

He turned around and saw the others doing the same, Chris leaning against Pony's stall, Ezra and Buck just arrived and moving slow.

Yosemite appeared from the tack room, line of small farrier nails clamped in his teeth. He waved the foursome towards the door, shooing them out. "Go on and git yourselves dry and done for tonight. I'll see to 'em."

Ezra started a half-hearted protest but Yosemite kept on, catching up to actually push at Vin.

"Ain't got nothing else going with all this damned mud and rain. 'Sides, I ain't plum tuckered and likely to fall asleep in the grain bin or go thinking a clump'a wet and moldy hay'll do."

Ezra, Chris and Buck all tipped their hats.

Vin nodded. "Much obliged." He inclined his head. "Got three others besides. Samuel's dealing with the bodies that came with them then he's bringing them over."

"Fine, I'll watch for him. Now get on with ya." Yosemite was already only half listening, puttering around the livery, bobbing his head with satisfaction as he settled into the task.

They stood together under the livery awning for a long minute, too weary to even move. Yosemite continued to work behind them, talking to their horses, telling them about the days of rain and rain they'd been missing here at home.

Vin suppressed a yawn, fist curling against his lips. He looked over and saw Chris doing the same.

Buck yawned as well, talking right through it, words warbly and slow. "See you boys tomorrow," he oozed. "How about for dinner?" he smiled lightly, blue eyes dim with fatigue.

That was easy to agree to.

Buck pushed between them, hand bringing his hat to fit closer as he stepped out of the livery. "I'm gonna go try not ta wake JD."

Vin snickered - he couldn't help it. When Buck turned back around he just shrugged, mischievous, disbelieving expression saying more than enough.

Buck shook his head, stern frown pulling at his mustache. "I'm cold, miserable wet and damned tired." He looked pointedly at Vin. "Which means I ain't in no damn mood."

Vin nodded, hands lifting. "Ain't no problem with me, Bucklin." He caught Ezra's eye and winked; Ezra managed to swallow a chuckle.

"Yeap," Buck huffed dryly, shaking his head. A moment later he waved it off and smiled then dashed into the rain, long strides taking him through the mud, slipping and sliding as he hurried towards the boarding house.

Chris laughed. "See you boys tomorrow," he repeated. He nodded and set out after Buck, pace sedate, spurs sinking into the muck as he strode away.

Vin let out a breath. "Well. Nite then, Ez." He left it at that, unsure of what else to say.

Ezra's hand slid up under his cuff, fingers wrapping his wrist, thumb pressing the hollow just under the bone.

"Get dry - get some sleep." Ezra's fingers loosened to caress. "I'll be looking forward to dinner." He grinned. "Just as soon as I manage to wake up."

Vin chuckled warmly, hand moving to fit naturally into Ezra's. "Likewise," he drawled quietly.

Ezra's grip tightened then fell away. They left the livery together, shoulders brushing as they walked silently through the mire, heads low and bodies hunched against the rain. When they parted Vin stood in the street, watching Ezra until he'd disappeared into the saloon, finger rising to edge the brim of his missing hat when Ezra turned back and waved goodnight.

*******

Vin let his fingers release, the solid glass shot slipping free to thunk against the bar. He savored the burn as it seeped through his sinuses and steamed down his throat; even the whiskey felt dry and it was a damned welcome change. He fiddled with the shot then turned it over, pushing it idly to float on the rim of liquid, dregs of the rotgut left behind.

The wind and the rain hadn't stopped; it was storming outside still. The batwing doors creaked tiredly, flapping back and forth as the wind toyed with them. The floorboards were stained in a dark semicircle of rainwater and mud, lighter tendrils infiltrating at a farther reach wraithing across the floor. Outside the saloon was impenetrably dark, the nighttime black shadowed deeper from the deluge.

Vin didn't mind it as much now that he was home. He and Ezra had been right - it was better here even if it was the same.

They'd met for dinner as planned - the four joined by the three who had stayed behind, seven again. Their shared conversations were quiet and welcome, all of them still exhausted in the aftermath but glad to be home and together.

Nathan had pushed into all of Vin's bruises and pronounced him 'not ready to die.' Vin had laughed with an acerbic thanks but figured to head over to the clinic if the aching kept itself up.

Josiah had been somewhat groggy but the fever had lifted during their absence. His arm was gaining mobility and his fingers were no longer tinged ugly black-blue. He'd sat drinking tea and eating bits of this and that, small, secretive smile on his face as he contentedly regarded his table of companions.

Ezra had given a vigorous, full summary of their trip - the trial, the water flume, the gunfight and the damnable weather that simply would not abate - lively wit and dialogue that had so chagrined Jameson delighting all of them. Details of the hanging were left behind, the group agreeing by understanding omission they didn't need more.

Chris had grinned around his smoldering cheroot and murmured quietly they should start calling it Notch Falls. Before Vin could grumble at it Chris had made the sweeping decision no one was going anywhere for a while, screw whoever it was that decided they should. His words met no argument - Ezra had bought him another drink.

JD had let them know the Shearouse boys had circled town and attacked Travis' stage just out of sight of Landram's Mill. They'd ridden down on it hard, firing fast but mostly blind before thundering away in pursuit of Vin and the rest. The driver had a broken leg - that'd come when he'd bailed as the three attackers bore down on them. Travis had a plug in his arm but would easily survive; the marshal hadn't been able to overcome the four bullets that had thumped into his brains.

Buck's joviality had dimmed and he'd muttered darkly about stupid kids and stupid revenge. JD had artfully misdirected matters, offering his spare hat for Vin to borrow, sitting back, brown eyes so pleased at the laughing banter the comment sparked.

They'd finished supper and sat a bit, steeping in the warm familiarity of the saloon and one another. A long time later they had drifted, each going to see after their own pursuits - Buck a woman, JD the town, Nate and Josiah the church, Chris settling in for another drink, Ezra a short game. Vin had stayed with Chris, watching Ezra play, watching when Ezra had thanked the players and bade them goodnight, watching the two-fingered salute in their direction and the beckoning green eyes.

The wind and rain had persisted throughout, but they seemed far away, well beyond Vin and the security of home and his friends.

He'd had more than one cup of coffee. Had shoveled down a gorging amount of Inez's offerings. He'd even managed a hot bath that afternoon before anyone else was up and going. The whiskey further appeased. Only one thing remained.

He reached for his hat then scoffed in annoyance. Vin shook his head and pushed away from the bar then headed for the stairs. Chris was gone now, tired and ready for the calm of the boarding house and a soft bed. The saloon was quiet and mostly dark, Inez and a solitary drinker the remaining vestiges of activity.

His light knock was sounding on Ezra's door moments later. It opened immediately, Ezra's ready smile deepening as he showed Vin inside. Ezra stepped aside and Vin sidled past, using none of the room made available to him. He tingled over from the contact.

Ezra slid his Remington onto the dresser, within reach but out of the way. "Good evening, Vin." Green eyes were dark and gleaming, coquettish and content. "I was hoping it was you knocking."

Vin smiled back. He knew what that meant; he was glad Ezra was as pleased as he was eager. Without prompting he shouldered out of his coat and laid it over the brocade stool. His gunbelt fell onto the leather with a heavy, muted clunk. Vin was stepping out of his boots when he glanced over.

Ezra's red coat was gone and he was unbuttoning his black vest. Vin licked his lips and righted, reaching out as he advanced. He wrapped his fingers around Ezra's wrists and stared at the short line of gleaming buttons.

"Let me," he whispered tremulously, full of heat and need.

His answer was Ezra's hands gliding up his arms to cup at his elbows, thumbs kneading absently, Ezra's stance widening to lean back, granting him full access.

Vin carefully slipped the last two buttons open then pushed his fingers under Ezra's vest at the shoulders and eased it down, chuckling when it snagged between them. The hands holding him pulled away after a tight squeeze and Vin let the vest fall, catching it behind to clutch at Ezra's back.

Ezra's smile curled suggestively. "Just let it go," he murmured.

The vest landed in a dark puddle on the floor.

Vin reached for Ezra's collar then paused, narrowing his eyes, fingers hovering just above the fine white cotton. He smiled then stepped away, drawing the rosewood box from the dresser drawer. It was hard and warm in his hands, a capable weight that he appreciated, the appeal easy to identify. He set it down and opened the lid, poking a finger into each tiny square as he investigated the different hues of jewels and metals winking up at him.

He snagged Ezra's hip and pulled, moving them to stand so their groins brushed together while he worked.

Each stud that was removed he dropped carefully into the proper square, taking his time with the chore, enjoying the feel and look of pale skin he was permitted to expose. The studs reminded Vin of Ezra's eyes, the burnished malachite smooth and mysterious with line upon line of differently hued greens chasing across the small circles.

Vin undid the final stud and let his fingers travel back up along the shirt placket, knuckles dusting the warm flesh, thumb burring against the crisp material. He let his fingers open over Ezra's chest, skimming with his palm, stopping so he could press his thumb into the hypnotic pulse point dancing where collarbones met, hand wrapped around a muscled shoulder.

He massaged into the hollow with slow circles, rapid flutters thrumming against his thumb, intoxicated with the idea that he was the cause of them.

Ezra swallowed and Vin's attention was drawn to the ivory throat. He edged along the elegant curve and rounded the chin then let his thumb rest just under the full pillow of Ezra's lower lip. He inched his thumb higher and traced the sensuous seam, back and forth, back and forth, before pushing on, nail gently scraping Ezra's cheek.

Vin threaded his hands through Ezra's glorious hair, grinning at the feel of it, dry and silky and rich, clinging to his fingers. He brushed all the way out and around, thumbs hooking on Ezra's shoulders, hands molding the twitching muscles all the way down to the strong, capable hands he'd come to find near obsession with.

He circled the dexterous wrists with his fingers and pulled, planting Ezra's hands at his hips, pressing to make sure they'd remain then he lifted away.

The intricately carved lid eased shut with a low rap; Vin slid the smaller rosewood box back into the drawer. He pulled out its mate and set it open on the dresser then concentrated on the cufflinks, one then the other, dropping both into their square with tinny pings. The box was tucked away and he shut the drawer then he turned down the lamp. It sputtered and extinguished, leaving only the soft glow from the bedside light, flame low and orange-blue.

He traced the thumbs curving to hold him, following the tendons to bump the wrinkled skin and defined bones of wrists now revealed, white cuffs split away.

Vin tightened his fingers and tugged Ezra's hold free of his hips then whispered up and under the billowing cotton, pursuing the shirt so it fell to the floor. It shushed over Ezra's skin in a delicate rasp, draping over the discarded vest.

Ezra's arms raised obligingly when Vin untucked the heavier undershirt. It was tossed aside to land in a pile with the other unneeded clothing. He crowned Ezra's head with a wide splay of his fingers, massaging the scalp, teased by and teasing the chestnut curls. His hands untangled then fell to feather every inch of skin - brow and cheeks and nose, chin and neck and shoulders, chest and nipples and quivering flanks.

His hands flirted with Ezra's, bending and twisting in a knot before he traveled on, rimming the indented bellybutton, weaving over and across the defined abdomen, becoming lost in the thickening V of hair that disappeared beneath black dress pants. Vin cupped Ezra's upper arms, guiding them towards the bed. When he pushed Ezra sank down easily, heated smile trusting and hungry, drowsy with arousal.

Vin knelt down, flanked by Ezra's legs, and tugged one boot off then the other. He let them fall to the side, fingers already busy with the long black socks. When both shapely feet were naked he held one in his hands, letting the other rest against his bent thigh.

Ezra's breath hitched when Vin tickled so very lightly, just bare enough to feel. He traced the whorled patterns on Ezra's sole with that minimal pressure, then swiped his thumb along the graceful arch, using it to knead over and between each toe. He glided over the pale bridge then around, fingers circling the knobby, jutting bone, pinching the leashed strength of the Achilles tendon.

He lifted the other foot and repeated the erotic process, fascinated by the feel of skin and the ability of feet and toes and ankles to have such an effect on him, that his caresses would have such an effect on Ezra.

Vin set both feet down and shifted back onto his heels. He ran his hands up Ezra's legs, the powerful muscles captive and yielded to his touch, sleek in their confinement of light wool. He was about to close both hands on the straining hardness at the apex of those beautiful legs, hidden yet potently clear, when he looked up.

Ezra was heavy-lidded, lips pouted in pleasure and willingness, cheeks dusted with the heady flush of sexual fire. The green eyes swirled with desire and need and something so raw it stole Vin's senses.

His hands lifted to capture the flushed cheeks, the heat ardent against his palms. Vin boosted forward and tilted his head, eyes closing slowly as he leaned in. Ezra's hands came to rest against his shoulders, warm and secure.

Vin's next breath tasted like Ezra - brandy and spice from dinner and sharp sweetness. Then their lips met and Vin wasn't aware of breathing at all.

He kissed one corner of Ezra's mouth then the other, teeth nibbling him back to center. Vin laved the soft tissue, the divot above, the dimple below, lips pursing to plant tiny kisses as he explored. Smooth wetness teased and his mouth parted with a ready sigh. Their tongues met and entwined, caressing, dizzying with sensual texture.

Vin surged forward, coming to stand as his arms lowered and tightened, dragging Ezra up with him. His fingers clutched the warm flesh, digging in and holding fast while the kiss consumed them. Ezra's hands gripped his shoulders, bruising and vital, then moved on to sear his skin through his clothes.

He locked his knees and pressed Ezra closer, angling forcibly down, mouth opening wider. Their teeth knocked then Vin's tongue tunneled deep, wanting more, inviting more. Thoughts of devouring and hunger unmatched and never coming up for air burned through the haze that had settled into him.

Vin eased back from the kiss slowly, hands trailing Ezra's skin as he lifted away. He rested his forehead against Ezra's, fingers threading the dark hair as he again cradled the heated face. Their breaths were thick and gasping, shared between them, lips seeking to brush lazily as they swayed. He pushed close and kissed Ezra again, noses bumping, soft lashes bending against his cheeks.

Their second kiss was as vibrantly alive and delicious as the first. Vin was lost - to taste, to feel, to desire, to Ezra.

When fingers tugged his shirt from his buckskins he grunted, managing to remember that being skin-to-skin would indeed vastly improve this spiraling ascent.

He staggered back a step, not quite able to let go of Ezra, standing for a moment, his hands idling along the smooth and hard planes. Clever fingers made quick work of the buttons on his shirt then his longjohns. Vin shrugged out of both, shirt and underwear tangling together to hang from his waist.

Ezra's hands swept over him, making his skin feel it was lifting, blazing trails blistering him with their fire. His eyes closed when his nipples were pinched, tight hiss escaping him when a sharp nail bit deeply into the tender nub.

Vin groped blindly for Ezra and levered them together with a crushing hold, grinding their groins while his hands sought with feverish intent. They met for a kiss, voracious and tender, already familiar but unsubsiding with need.

One long finger wiggled beneath his waistband, coming to rest buried within the cleft of his ass. Vin shuddered - the madness overtook him completely, sweet delirium.

He had his buckskins and underwear stripped off in seconds, propelling Ezra onto the bed as he tugged at the black wool pants. He toed out of his socks then laid down on top of Ezra, the length of him sighing at the feel of the spread of glorious skin all beneath his.

They boosted across the mattress, writhing, kissing, touching, desperate for everything. Vin settled into Ezra's spread legs, wet, hard heat aligning to slick against his as they rutted, furious with abandon.

The world blotted out, falling away, distant and unnecessary.

Vin's awareness shuttered like an iris, closing in, focusing on the only things left to him - Ezra's lips churning under his, Ezra's strength thrusting to meet his, Ezra's wet cock alongside his, Ezra's fingers playing over his skin, tweaking his nipples, burying knuckle-deep in his asshole.

He lifted up and growled, pushing back, wanting more, grasping internally so the finger buried deeper. Another was added and he growled again, hips jerking harder and faster, breath ragged as he descended for another kiss.

Their sweat ran together and mingled; Vin tasted the saltiness in their spit. He pushed his hand between them, swiping his thumb across their leaking erections then skidded the wetness over Ezra's chest, chin and lips so he could taste the musk.

Ezra's pelvis tilted and twisted, tightening their contact, speeding their frenzied need. Vin's head dropped onto Ezra's shoulder and he gripped the surging hips with his hands, pulling and pulling, driving them on. The probing fingers found something within him, sparking against it again and again, heat and light and fury.

He came without sound.

The ecstasy broke over him, every muscle seizing in a scream of climax, skin flying away to leave him trembling and bare. Vin fought to breathe, hands weak but ever restless as they soothed over Ezra. His fingers pushed through the wetness between them - he lifted them and cleaned each with his tongue, Ezra's flicking out to join his, the two kissing as they shared their come.

The arm he'd bent next to Ezra to prop himself up began to shake, already almost useless and sapped of strength. Ezra tugged at him and he fell, unresisting. Vin was enveloped in a secure hold, legs tangling with his, face tucked under Ezra's, cheek to cheek.

He laid there and breathed, working to recover, Ezra's hoarse gasps puffing in his ear. Eventually the world filtered back, starting its slow spin beneath them. The wind howled and the rain thrashed, insistently drumming the roof and walls as if trying to find a way in.

Ezra shifted against him and Vin loosened his hold. They rolled together slowly, finding their way onto a pillow and under a blanket. Vin kissed Ezra. Ezra kissed him back.

He pulled away and gazed at Ezra, blue eyes taking in every detail. The dark, mussed hair. The handsome face, glowing under a sheen of drying sweat and satisfaction. The long, curled lashes and pale lids, concealing the mossy greens from his view.

Vin leaned in and kissed the swollen, blood-ripe lips. "Ezra," he murmured.

"Humm-da?"

He smiled. "Something I need to tell ya."

Ezra blinked heavily, eyes dark and languorous, pupils huge and eclipsing - hiding away that striking green color but not the stark truth of this coupling. "Will it keep?" he mumbled.

"Yeah," Vin breathed, kissing Ezra again. "Figure this is something I'll be wanting to tell you every day."

"Mm'k, good… wanna hear it … awake…"

Ezra returned the kiss, lips opening and moving slow and sweet as honey.

"I'll tell ya tomorrow," Vin yawned into their kiss.

"Hmmh," Ezra sighed. "I do hope it includes - " he yawned, deeply, then curled back against Vin.

"Includes what?" Vin burred after a content silence of listening to Ezra breathe.

Ezra hummed again, distractedly. Vin grinned sleepily, ready to wait and hear whatever it was later. He kissed Ezra's forehead, his eyes sinking shut as they burrowed together.

"This," Ezra finally mumbled, tone muzzy and mellow. His hand patted Vin's chest lazily. "You… me… bed… n'more… always." The words were long and breathy, rolling through the heated air between them to slowly unfurl from the thickened drawl.

It was a disjointed declaration but Vin had no doubts or questions. He drew Ezra tighter to him, tucking them to nestle close. The weight of Ezra's arm around his waist was a vital anchor; the weight of Ezra's spent cock against his thigh was a vital reminder of what had been and always would be willingly surrendered to him. It was all he would need, everything he would cherish.

Rain sluiced the window with brutal fury, pushing into the glass in viscous sprays, urged on by the droning wind that whistled and rattled, violently punishing main street and its line of buildings, bracketing and ceaseless as it lashed the earth.

He nuzzled the warm, sweat-scented neck, tickling his nose with the thick hair, nipping until he could plant a soft kiss to Ezra's temple. His muscles gave completely, loosening and lengthening as he declined into sleep. He let the heaviness take him, snuggling down, chin pressed to the rise of Ezra's cheekbone.

Vin wanted to say it now so he did, lips caressing the fine skin as he whispered, "I love you, too."

End