It
was sitting there when he arrived back at his room, solitary and
smack in the center of his pillow. Ezra gazed at the wrapped
square in curiosity, for it was obvious this had not come
through the mail.
He walked over to the bed and sat down, picking up the package
and examining it. It was blank; no name on the front, no
markings of any kind. He frowned and shook it. No sound either.
He got up, package in hand, and paced over to his dresser,
placing it in the center where it could stare up at him. Who was
sending him mysterious gifts? And how had they gotten into his
room? Ezra growled in frustration and stalked back to the bed to
yank his boots off. He'd been out on patrol for six very long
hours, and while he didn't mind seeing the sun rise, he
preferred to see dawn's light after a long and successful night
at the poker table, rather than being forced to rise with the
birds for morning patrol. And to come back to this?
He had no desire to fight with this right now. For all he knew
the package was the newest in some scheme of Maude's, and
really, he didn't have the energy to deal with it. With a yawn,
Ezra pulled back the covers and crawled into the bed, laying his
derringer under his pillow and his Remington within easy reach.
A nap was definitely what he needed.
*********
He
woke several hours later as the sun was descending from the sky.
He sat up and stretched, both hands reaching for the sky, and
inevitably, his eyes were once more drawn to the package sitting
on his dresser. Muttering under his breath, Ezra threw back the
covers and stalked over to pick it up. He knew he wouldn't be
able to concentrate on anything until he found out what was in
it.
Ripping the paper open, a small leatherbound book and an
envelope fell into his hands. He glanced at the spine of the
book, but it was blank, as was the cover. It looked like one of
those travel journals Mrs. Potter sold over at the general
store.
The envelope had no writing on the outside either, and he tore
it open, suddenly eager to know it's contents. Inside was a
single sheet of paper, the two words of writing displayed on it
were shaky and unsure. Ezra sat down hard, hands shaking as he
read the words, and he forced himself to reach for the book and
open it, unsure of what was within, but suspecting.
Poems. The book was filled with poems. Skimming through the
pages, he realized they were all written in that same unsure
hand, as painstakingly wrought as those first two.
Smiling, a hint of moisture glistening in his green eyes, Ezra
once more picked up the sheet of paper and traced the words
written there.
"Love you too, Vin," he whispered.