Nathan wasn't sure if the others saw it, but he did; something about Ezra Standish just didn't add up. For a man who was so lucky at cards to be stuck in a small town like Four Corners, complaining about his misfortunes to anyone who'd listen, didn't make sense. He'd started watching Ezra more closely when he'd figured that out, trying to figure him out as if he were some kind of puzzle. The town ran on its own routine, everyone in their accustomed roles, with Ezra slipping between them like a fish through water. He'd grumble when it was his turn for an early patrol, often staying up late rather than giving Chris the chance to drag him out of his feather bed, but that was as far as any true rebellion went. In the end, it was sheer chance that defeated both of them, forcing Nathan to share Ezra's secret partly willing, partly not. Nathan had been riding back to town alone, delayed from a difficult birthing, glad for his horse's sense of direction when he was almost too tired to sit in the saddle a moment longer. At a curve in the track leading to Four Corners his gelding had hesitated for a moment, then whickered a greeting to no-one Nathan could see. Suddenly more awake, Nathan's hand had dropped to his pistol; an answering sound was Ezra's chestnut, tethered nearby, he could see that now. Nathan relaxed, his hand dropping to his side once more. If there was anyone to fear harm from, Ezra wasn't in the running. No sign of the man, though, and no reason for him to be out here, where there was nobody living and no likelihood they ever would. It was just rock and brush, scrub covering the dusty soil of the desert. As good a place as any to take a break, though, for a man partway through a long ride back to town. Nathan tied his horse alongside Ezra's, loosening the girth so he could stand easy while his rider relieved himself against the nearby rocks. It was quiet, the low wind the only sound; Nathan started to wonder where Ezra had got himself off to. There was nowhere to go from here, just rocks and wilderness as far as the eye could see - nothing to attract the other man's interest. His bootmarks disappeared too, just a few of them around where his horse was tethered then nothing, as if he'd vanished into thin air. Nathan rounded the nearest pile of rock, looking for shade so he could take a rest now he'd emptied his bladder. No sign of Ezra still, no tracks, nothing. A few more steps changed all that - on a nearby rock sat a pile of clothes, crowned with an all-too-familiar low brimmed hat. A pair of boots Nathan knew as well as he knew his own leaned against the side of it, a small striped lizard currently basking across the toe of one of them. "What the hell?" It was all there, everything Ezra was accustomed to wearing any time Nathan had seen him up and about; holster and arm rig, the derringer, everything. Wherever Ezra Standish was, he had to be as naked as the day he was born. Something in Nathan's belly tightened at the thought, then was swiftly followed by the realization Ezra would probably broil like a chicken in this heat, damn fool that he was. Wherever he was. First things first. Find the damn fool and then figure out what to do next. This pile of rocks was the tallest thing around for quite a way - it didn't take much for Nathan to scale them, his height helping him to reach places he was certain Ezra couldn't have, the sun beating mercilessly down on him when he reached their peak. He should be able to see Ezra, surely? But nothing moved, nothing except the slight brown flash of a coyote slipping through the brush some fifty feet away. "EZRA!" Nathan's voice rang out the name, making the horses stamp and pull at their reins; other than that there was no response. Nathan shaded his eyes, squinting into the distance for the flash of pale skin he expected to see. There were no gullies for the fool to fall into, so unless he'd turned into a puff of smoke and vanished, he ought to be visible from up here. Nothing. Nathan slithered back down the rocks, startling the lizard from its place on Ezra's boot, and decided on his next move. He ought to ride back into town, get a search party together. The only explanation was that Ezra must have run mad, though the tidy pile of clothes seemed to question that idea. But why else would he be naked, out here where there was nobody to be naked for? Movement caught his eye; Nathan turned his head as a coyote emerged from the brush. It must be the one he'd seen before, from his perch on the rocks. It eyed him for a moment, then sat, head cocked to one side and tongue lolling out. If he'd had to say, Nathan would have said the coyote looked amused by his being there. He wasn't inclined to shoot the critter, but he couldn't have it hanging around, not if Ezra was out there somewhere. Nathan stooped over and picked up a rock, shying it at the coyote so it hit the ground just in front of where it sat. A cloud of dust rose from where the rock struck, but the coyote didn't budge. If anything, its toothy grin grew wider, all sharp white fangs and pink tongue. "Get out of here!" Nathan said, then leaned over to pick up another rock. This time he'd hit the damn coyote, if he had to. "I'd rather have my clothes first." It was Ezra's voice, no doubt about it. Nathan straightened up, the rock dropping from his fingers. Where the coyote had sat, Ezra stood, naked as a jaybird other than a thin cloud of dust that covered his skin from head to toe. He was sweating, which came as no surprise in these kind of temperatures, thin streaks of dirt marking where sweat and dust met. For a man who shunned physical labour, Ezra's muscles were well-defined and somehow, some unexpected way, his skin wasn't reddened like Nathan had expected. Not that any of this stopped Nathan wanting to run his hands over it, purely to make sure Ezra was really okay after this experience. "Ezra?" Nathan was proud of himself, that he could manage the words, all things considered. "The coyote?" Ezra's grin was wider than usual, the flash of his gold tooth somehow reminding Nathan more of fangs and a shockingly pink tongue than he'd ever expected. "My clothes?" Ezra countered, taking a step towards the pile he'd left on the rock. "And I trust you won't mention this to our colleagues back in town." It was a statement, not a question, that much was clear. Nathan shook his head, surprised Ezra could even ask. "Who'd believe me anyway?" Still, Nathan watched Ezra dress himself, in case he decided to up and disappear all over again; that was the reason, he told himself, nothing more. Certainly not the chance to memorise all that pale skin, peppered with the dust of the desert, up close and personal while he still had the chance. That would be wrong, even if Ezra was whatever the hell Ezra truly was under all that fine white cotton and brocade. Wouldn't it?

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