Not Quite Sure

Disclaimer: All characters belong to MGM, Mirisch and Trilogy. Not mine, no money.

Not Quite Sure

There’s lots of things in life you don’t know the answer to. What makes one woman so special to a man compared to all the others? Why do so many men got so much greed for things that ain’t theirs?

Right now, though, you’re just wonderin’ if you’re gonna make it out of this fight alive.

Hard to tell if the odds are in your favor or not. You’ve had bullets buzzin’ past your head like angry bees for a good long spell, and not a one has hit you. You’ve survived all the gunfights you’ve been in so far – not always whole, true, but ‘least nobody’s had to put you in a box.

Then again, you have got this far, and sooner or later, things have gotta go bad more than good. Just the way of things, in your experience.

For a second, your mind drifts, lettin’ your fingers run through the motions they know so well, reloadin’ and primin’, and you find yourself thinkin’ about what kind of odds Ezra would give on this one.

You decide you really don’t wanna know.

Then you’re in action again, poppin’ up over the water trough to give some cover for Chris, who’s doin’ that same damnfool thing he always does, walkin’ out into the middle of a firefight like he’s darin’ the bullets to hit him.

You keep hopin’ that one of these days the others hollerin’ at him after every stunt like that will make it through his thick skull and stick. Hasn’t yet, but maybe someday.

Havin’ a someday means you gotta get through the now, so you duck back down behind the trough when the bullets start flyin’ at you again. Left and right and all around, you can hear the bark of other guns, like they’re some kinda dogs that never learnt to be quiet. Some of it’s your pards and some of it’s the enemy and even in the thick of a fight, you spare a moment to think on how good it feels to know without a doubt there’s men who’ve got your back. Ain’t had that much ‘till now.

The bullets aren’t zingin’ past the trough anymore; sounds like they’re concentratin’ somewhere else. A heartfelt curse floats over the rest of the noise, and you feel your heart just freeze in fear, ‘cause it’s one of those men.

Then there’s anger and you have to push ‘em both away, so they can’t spoil your aim or take over your head. One of the enemy has foolishly stayed in view, and he’s yours now, ‘cause you can shoot the gun out of his hand or you can shoot him dead, and it’d be dead easy either way.

“Ezra?” Chris’s got a bellow that carries easy over gunfire. You can’t spare a look at him, but you know he’s crouchin’ behind a barrel on the other side of the street, just in front of the building where the enemy has taken cover.

“Still present, Mister Larabee!” Relief floods you, ‘cause he sounds all right, and your finger squeezes the trigger like it’s connected to your heart, not your head.

The enemy bawls like a new-branded calf, droppin’ down outta sight, but you know for sure he ain’t gonna be shootin’ anyone again.

That ain’t the last shot, but it’s damn close, and pretty soon, you’re holdin’ your gun on three men, one with some broke and bloody fingers and a busted wrist from your shot. Ezra’s helpin’ you cover ‘em, and you’re glad it don’t look like he’s got any holes he ain’t s’posed to. You give him a nod, just to let him know, and he nods back, eyes a-twinklin’ like the stars flung across the sky. Funny how he ain’t jawin’ like he normally does.

Twistier than a snake, is Ezra, but he’s got the devil’s own luck, and even though he’s got his less than shinin’ moments, you still want him at your back.

Those other men you trust at your back are there, too, some of ‘em headin’ off to make sure the rest of the town’s all right, the rest gone with Chris inside the building to make sure the other outlaws are dead.

Now that it’s over, you got a minute to spare for thinkin’ up somethin’ to say to Chris that maybe this time he’ll stop walkin’ right out into the middle of danger like he does, ‘cause you reckon it’s your turn to try. Instead, you keep hearin’ him callin’ Ezra’s name, and even though most of you has to mind the three men waitin’ to go to jail, part of you is still worryin’ at the way Chris sounded.

It wasn’t how he usually sounds when he’s shoutin’ at Ezra, angry and disappointed, and suddenly, it hits you that you ain’t heard him yell at Ezra like that in quite a spell. Your eyes cut to Ezra, just a blink before you’re watchin’ the prisoners again, and you’re pretty sure he’s got at least one eye on the door, like he’s waitin’.

Fact is, you’ve heard Chris yellin’ lots over the past couple years, and you’re damn sure you ain’t never heard him sound like he did today.

Josiah and Nathan come out with a body slung between ‘em, and start down to the undertaker’s, and Nathan’s givin’ Ezra the eye, like he’s sayin’ without words that Ezra had best believe he’s gonna raise an honest sweat. Ezra doesn’t even see it; he’s got both eyes on the door now, and you can’t help but wonder why he’s so eager for the shoutin’ to start.

With the ching-ching of his spurs heraldin’ his arrival, Chris steps out. Looks like every muscle he’s got is stretched tight, and the only thing you can think of now is how much the same he and that high-strung black horse of his are; like callin’ to like.

More than you see, you sense Ezra shift, one step to the side, like he’s gettin’ a better sight on the prisoners, and Chris’s eyes flicker toward that movement.

Then, just ‘cause you’re watchin’ Chris real close, not knowin’ what you expect him to do, you see it.

That high-strung look, that tension just kinda disappears from Chris, just meltin’ away, and the lines around his eyes smile, and when you glance over, Ezra’s givin’ him a grin like a gift in return, dimples winkin’ in his cheeks… Yeah. It ain’t a physical touch, bein’ too separate for that, but you can tell even from this that it’s even closer somehow, more… intimate.

And you’re not quite sure how you’d ever missed it before.