A Little Help From My Friends

Disclaimer: I don't own The Magnificent Seven, not making any money, just cheap thrills

A Little Help From My Friends
Chapter 4


Ezra deftly measured ingredients for the bread. "This recipe calls for one quarter cup of warm water, if I wish to double the recipe how much water will I need?"

Nathan chewed his lip, pencil scratching across the paper in front of him. "Half a cup?"

Ezra ducked his head to hide a smile. "Is that your answer or a question?" He had never taught school, but he was certain that learning to project confidence was as important as learning the mechanics of reading, writing and arithmetic.

"That's my answer," Nathan confidently replied.

"Well done Master Nathan," he praised. "Now what of the other ingredients? How much would I need of each of ingredient were I to double the recipe?"

"Can I..." Nathan paused at a look from Mr. Standish. "May I see the recipe please?" he politely requested.

"Of course." Ezra slid the recipe card towards the boy. He knew the recipe quite well and could do without it. He had considered setting up a schoolroom in the front room, discarding the idea almost as quickly as it had come. With four children to instruct, at three different levels, he would have time for nothing else if he attempted a traditional school. Thus the decision to teach the children during the course of everyday activities.

Nathan carefully calculated the amounts that would be needed, checking his answers by using the opposite equation. Satisfied that the answers were correct, he slid the paper over to Mr. Standish.

“Well done,” Ezra liberally praised his oldest student. He was very pleased to see the progress Nathan was making with fractions. “You have an excellent mind Master Nathan, it is a shame your education was interrupted. Oh well,” he sighed, “I suppose it just means a bit of extra effort will need to be put forth, if you're willing?”

“Yes sir,” Nathan grinned. He had always loved learning. The closing of the school two years ago had been a sad day for him, though he supposed he was in the minority in that feeling.

“You keep that attitude and you'll easily become a success in life,” Ezra said, returning the grin. “Now for a lesson which one wouldn't learn in school.” Ezra stepped away from the table, motioning to the breadboard as he did.

“Sir?”

“Knead the bread Master Nathan, only for a moment. It is nearly at the correct stage, but you must feel the texture in order to know when to stop kneading. If you knead the dough for too long you will create air pockets and your bread will be filled with holes.” Ezra watched the boy, his eyes lit by curiosity. He opened his mouth to ask, quickly snapping it closed. No, regardless of age, such questions would be rude.

Nathan noticed his teacher watching him. It wasn't the first time he'd been watched with such curiosity, though Mr. Standish was the first adult he'd met who hadn't questioned his place here. He could see, however, that the man wanted to ask. “My father was dying.”

“Pardon?”

“You're wondering how a black child came to be living with a white family, calling a white man Pa.”

Ezra blushed, embarrassed to be caught out by a child. “You are correct, however, you owe me no explanation.” No matter his desire to learn the answer, he would not intrude on the privacy of another.

Nathan shrugged, “I don't mind. Like I said, my father was dying and he wanted to make sure I was taken care of. Pa, I mean Mr. Sanchez, had told him to come anytime and that he'd help him anyway he could.”

“Your father brought you here in the hopes that Mr. Sanchez would take you in?”

“Yes sir,” Nathan confirmed. “He didn't have any family and he didn't want me to end up in an orphanage. He said that cause I'm black I'd never get adopted, but would just be hired out to white folks looking for cheap labor. He knew that if Pa agreed to take me, he'd treat me as a son even if he couldn't adopt me. That was four years ago. My father died a few months after we arrived and I've been Pa's son ever since.”

“Your father was a wise man,” Ezra quietly said.

Nathan smiled, pleased by the words. “Have I kneaded the bread long enough?”

Ezra blinked. He'd forgotten, for a moment, what they were doing. “Perfect, now remember, for the future, the way the dough feels.”

“I don't see why I have to learn how to multiply and divide,” Buck groused. “I know how to add and subtract, don't need anything else.”

“Indeed,” Ezra commented, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Your father sends you to the store, he tells you that you may use the change from the transaction to buy yourself some candy. The store clerk tallys your purchases as follows: two pounds of flour when ten pounds cost 33 cents; two pounds of sugar when ten pounds cost 49 cents; a tube of toothpaste for 27 cents and a pound of sharp Wisconsin cheese for 23 cents. You give the clerk the 75 cents your father gave you and he presents you with a nickel in change.”

“Alright,” Buck grinned.

“Not alright,” Ezra corrected.

“What do you mean it's not alright?”

Ezra bit back a laugh as the child glared at him suspiciously. “Your purchases came to 67 cents, which you would have known if you knew multiplication and division. You should have received 8 cents in change. You, Master Buck were cheated.”

“That ain't fair.”

“Isn't, and no it is not. However, there will always be those who will take advantage of the ignorant.”

“I'm not stupid,” Buck snapped. He'd been happy when Mr. Standish came to live with them, but if the man was gonna call him names Pa should make him leave.

“No you're not, you are however ignorant, which is simply another word for uneducated.”

“Oh,” Buck mumbled. “I didn't know that,” he admitted. He paused in feeding the chickens, scuffing his shoes in the dirt. “Guess maybe it'd be good to learn more, huh?”

Ezra smiled, flashing his gold tooth. “It would be advisable,” he agreed.

“Do you have any twos?” Vin shyly asked.

Ezra smiled at the quiet child as he handed over the two in his hand. He had quickly noticed that this boy's personality was much different from his brothers. Nathan did tend to be quiet as well, but his was a different sort of quiet and of course he wasn't related to the others by blood. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Was that the explanation? Was Vin adopted as well? Was that why he was so much quieter and shyer than Buck and JD, both of whom could only be described as rambunctious.

Vin looked up from his cards prepared to tell Mr. Standish what his new pair added up to. The look on the man's face stopped him and he shot a nervous glance down at his cards. “I'm sorry,” he whispered.

The quiet words brought Ezra from his musings. “Sorry? Whatever for Master Vin?”

Vin shrugged. “Whatever I did wrong.”

Ezra was confused. Why would the child think he had done something wrong?

“You looked mad,” JD offered.

“Pardon me?”

“You looked mad, that's how come Vin thought he was in trouble.” JD offered the explanation as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Ezra sighed, yet another difference in the boys. Vin, as well-behaved of a child as he had ever seen, was always the first to take the blame when others seemed upset or angry. It saddened Ezra to see a child so quick to assume he had done something wrong. “Then it is I who owes the apology to you Master Vin. I wasn't angry and you did nothing wrong, I was simply lost in thought.”

Vin looked at him closely, staring into his eyes as if searching for the truth. “Okay.”

Apparently he had found what he was looking for. “Now, as you have found a matching pair, can you tell me what they amount to?”

“Four,” Vin confidently replied. “Two plus two equals four,” he clarified, giving the entire problem as Mr. Standish had taught them to do.

“Well done Master Vin,” Ezra praised the boy, getting a grin in response. They continued to play the game for a while longer. He had worried about teaching the two youngest, as neither had been given the chance to attend school. He had been pleasantly surprised that both boys knew their letters and numbers. As he had begun to teach them, he had quickly discovered that both boys were fast learners, combined with a desire to learn it made teaching them easier than he had expected.

“I have been curious about something since I arrived,” Ezra paused.

“What is that sir?” Vin asked his voice blending with JD's as he asked the same question.

“What does JD stand for?” Ezra grinned, flashing his gold tooth and bringing giggles from the boys.

“John Daniel,” JD replied once his laughter had stopped.

“I should have surmised as much,” Ezra commented. “I suppose Vin is short for Vincent?” he asked the older boy. Before Vin could respond, another voice joined the conversation.

“Actually it is short for Jivin,” Josiah answered. He winced at the surprised and grateful look his son shot his way. No child should be grateful for being allowed to use his own name.

Ezra saw the look between father and son. Filing it away for later, he turned his attention to Josiah. “An unusual name.”

“It's Apache, his mother's people,” Josiah explained.

The pieces began to fall into place for Ezra. “Does it have a meaning?” He knew that most indian names carried a meaning of some sort.

Josiah dropped his eyes. “I'm sure it does, but I'm ashamed to say I don't know what it is.” That wasn't all he was ashamed of, he admitted to himself. He never should have allowed Lucille to change Vin's name to Vincent, insisting that the boy be called by a Christian name. “Are the boys done for the day Ezra?”

“I believe we have done enough work today.” Gathering the cards, he put them away and headed to the kitchen to check on supper.

“Vin can I talk to you outside?”

Vin nodded, “Yes Sir.” Standing up, he shuffled towards the door, his head hanging down. He couldn't think of anything he had done wrong. He must have done so or Pa wouldn't have wanted to talk outside. Feeling as if he'd been kicked in the stomach, he made his way towards the barn.

“Where are you going son?”

Vin spun so fast he nearly fell down. “Ain't I getting switched?”

Josiah would have laughed, but he had begun to realize just how hard Lucille had been on the boy. “Have you done something to deserve punishment?”

“No sir,” Vin shook his head. “Least, I don't think I did.”

“You didn't,” Josiah confirmed. “I just want to talk to you. Come over here and sit next to me.”

Vin ran over to the porch and sat next to his father on the swing. For several minutes neither of them said anything. Vin worried his lip with his teeth. Was Ms. Lucille coming back? Was Pa going to send him away so she'd come back? Maybe his brothers had gone to him and told him that it was Vin's fault that their mother had left.

Josiah watched his small son. He looked so much like his mother, not in coloring certainly, but in the shape of his face and in his mannerisms. The realization of how badly he had betrayed her love brought an ache to his soul that he didn't think would ever go away. “I'm sorry son.”

“For what Pa?” Vin was confused. There wasn't any reason for his father to apologize to him.

“I never should have let Lucille force you to use a different name.”

“Oh,” Vin shrugged. “Did you love my mama?” he asked after a moment of silence.

Josiah smiled softly. Wrapping an arm around thin shoulders, he pulled his son close. “Very much, but we weren't able to be together.”

“Why not?” Vin innocently asked.

He sighed, how to explain his infidelity to a child. How do you tell your son that you had taken advantage of his mother's kindness, ruining her life in the process? “That's difficult to explain son.”

“That's what I thought,” Vin mumbled. His mother had told him she would explain when he was older. He wasn't really surprised that his father didn't want to answer him either.

“What do you mean?”

“Mama said she'd tell me when I'm older. Guess I won't never be old enough,” he sighed.

Josiah smiled. He knew that to a boy Vin's age time passed as slowly as waiting for Christmas. “I know you don't want to wait Vin but the day will come when you're old enough to know the story of your mother and I.”

“When?”

“When you're fourteen,” Josiah offered. He wasn't sure he'd be ready then either, but the boy would more readily accept the delay if he had a firm date to cling to.

“Thanks Pa,” Vin said with a shy smile. “Pa?”

“Yes son?”

“If I can be Jivin again, does that mean I don't have to pretend I don't hear them?”

Josiah straightened up, startled by this information. Had his son inherited his mother's gift? “Hear them?”

“The spirits,” Vin hesitantly confessed. “They tell me things, sometimes. Ms. Lucille said it was heathen lies and I was evil for saying it.”

“Oh Vin.” Josiah hugged his son to him, silently berating himself for his neglect of the precious gift Spotted Deer had given him. “Lucille was wrong son. It's a gift you have son, one you share with your mother. And to answer your question...no you don't have to hide your gift, at least not from your family.”

“Folks don't like it when you're different,” Vin whispered.

“Some don't,” Josiah confirmed. “I'm not ashamed of your gift Vin and I don't think it's evil, but some will so it's probably best if you don't let everybody know. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” Vin replied.

Josiah leaned back in the swing, gently moving it back and forth as he held his son in his arms. He remembered the day he had met Spotted Deer. He and Lucille had been fighting, her resentment of the farm and motherhood beginning to come forth. It had been before the crash of '29 and their life had been pretty good, or so he had thought. Josiah Sanchez, you're a fool, he berated himself. He should have seen then that she wasn't the woman for him. He had loved her though, in spite of her acerbic tongue and brimming resentment.

The fights, as the months went on, had worn him down. It had been at this low point that he had met Spotted Deer. The young Apache woman had been working in a small diner as a waitress. The first time he'd met her he had felt his heart stutter to a halt as he drank in her beauty. It had been her inner beauty that had held his attention. They had spent weeks getting to know each other, learning all they could about the other as they slowly moved from friends to lovers. Looking back, he realized that Spotted Deer's spirits had told her their time was short. Two months after meeting her, Lucille had discovered the infidelity. Threatened with the loss of his son, Buck, he had given into her demands to end the relationship. Spotted Deer had smiled softly and told him she understood. The spirits had blessed them and she would never forget their time together. Kissing him gently, she had said good-bye. The next day she had left town. He hadn't known about Vin until the day he had arrived at his door, a letter in his hand and a note pinned to his jacket.

The fight he and Lucille had that night had been one of the worst they'd ever had. Lord she had been furious. After hours of arguing he had finally convinced her to take the boy in. To gain her agreement, reluctantly he had been forced to agree that Vin would have to leave his Apache past behind. He would have agreed to nearly any condition for the chance to know and love the son Spotted Deer had given to him. He made a mental note to write to the reservation his lover had ran to. If he was to help his son reclaim his heritage, the other half of himself, he would need to know more about Apache culture.

The next day Vin ran across the fields to Mr. Miller's mine. The old man had been the only one he had ever been able to talk to about his gift. He couldn't wait to tell him that with his father's acceptance of his gift the promise made by the spirits had finally come true. He stood on top of the hill above the mine, staring in shock at the blond man stepping out of the mine entrance. Dropping to the ground, he drew out his slingshot and picked up a rock.

“Ow!” Chris yelled. Quickly turning around, he took a step towards his rifle.

“Hold it right there mister,” Vin yelled. Another rock was already in his sling. “The next one is gonna be between your eyes. What'd you do with Mr. Miller?” he demanded.

Chris froze. “Now hold on boy, I didn't do anything to Mr. Miller...”

“Then where is he?”

“If you'd stop interrupting me I'd tell you,” Chris growled. “His horse threw him a couple of weeks ago and he broke his leg. He hired me to work the mine for him while he's laid up.”

“You're lying,” Vin accused the blond.

Chris sighed. “Stubborn little shit,” he mumbled. “It's the truth boy. He's staying in town for now.” He shook his head, bemused, why was he explaining this to a child? Oh yeah, because the boy had deadly aim and while a rock probably wouldn't kill him it wouldn't feel good.

Vin studied him, his head cocked to one side. The spirits were telling him he could trust this man. He gave a short, clipped nod and lowered his slingshot, dropping the rock to the ground. Making his way down the hill, he offered his hand to the blond. “Name's Vin Tanner Sanchez. Sorry about the rock, I thought you was a claim jumper,” he explained. Looking up, blue eyes locked with green and a shiver raced down his back. It was as if he were seeing into the man's soul, finding an old friend he hadn't known he'd lost.

Chris took the hand, shaking it firmly. “That's alright son, can't blame ya for wanting to protect a friend. Name's Chris Larabee,” he introduced as the boy looked up. He felt a feeling of peace wash over him. It was like nothing he had ever felt; it was as if he'd found a piece of his soul. Shaking his head, he brushed aside the fanciful notion. The sun must be getting to him. “You live around here?”

Vin jumped at the question. “Yes sir, I live a couple of miles over that way,” he replied, pointing towards the farm.

“Call me Chris. Your Pa know you're here?”

Vin nodded, “I told him I was coming over.”

“Well since you're here, you want to join me for lunch?”

“I could eat,” Vin grinned.

“Well come on then,” Chris said, returning the grin.

TBC

This chapter fought me tooth and nail. Stubborn muse, always has to do things her way. ;) Hope y'all enjoyed it, please feed the muse with reviews.

A/N: Jivin is an Apache name meaning to give life. I don't know the pronunciation but I'm guessing both of the vowels would be short vowel sound. So it would the I would be pronounced like the I in it.

A/N: While Chris and Vin do share a deep connection this is not going to be anything remotely sexual. More of a deep friendship/mentor/parent-child type of relationship. There is more than one kind of soul mate, not all are romantic.