Once, when no one was looking, Ezra let his mask down. He watched from his window as families left the little church and went home to Sunday suppers. He watched as men wrapped arms around the shoulders of young sons or the waists of wives, young and old, as sisters held hands and skipped along, as small children nestled trustingly in maternal arms.
Once, when no one was looking, Ezra let his mask down. He watched young cowhands swaggering and whooping in ever changing groups toward the saloon, as elderly women sat on the porch by Potterís Store, sharing gossip and recipes, as two grizzled old ex-miners bragged and reminisced over a checkerboard, as three saloon girls leaned together from a window across the way.
Once, when no was looking, Ezra let his mask down. He watched Buck joshing a smiling JD along from the jail to the saloon, as Nathan stood in ease and conversation with Josiah, as Vin stood calmly, as always, by Chrisís side.
Once, when no one was looking, Ezra cried.