Ezra crossed the threshold into the room and found the foreman leaning back in a wooden bathtub, puffing cigar smoke above his head in a cloud. It gathered at the ceiling, curling slowly until it eventually dissipated.

Ezra removed his hat, shuffling awkwardly.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't realize you were... bathing."

The foreman brushed Ezra's comment away with a halfhearted wave of his hand.

"It makes no difference." He blew another puff of smoke and sat up, pulling the cigar from his mouth. "However, now that you're here and you've interrupted my relaxation time, I'd like to know why on God's green earth you decided to break into my home unannounced and disturb me."

He placed the cigar back in his mouth and took a long draw.

"Do you have a death wish?" The smoke curled around his face as he said it.

Ezra shook his head emphatically. "No sir. You see, that's exactly why I'm here. Vincent and I were attacked –" The foreman quickly raised a hand to stop Ezra.

"Attacked?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes sir, a bear attacked us a–"

"Oh," the foreman interrupted flatly, sounding bored.

Ezra paused, confused. He studied the foreman's expression.

"Go on," he said impatiently. "I don't need minute details. Just provide the highlights."

Ezra cleared his throat. "As I was saying, we were attacked by a bear and it mauled Vincent. We tried to make it back, but he lost too much blood. I... I had to leave him behind."

The foreman yawned.

"How unfortunate. That still doesn't explain why you broke into my house."

Ezra gritted his teeth. "He's still alive. I’ve got to go back there as fast as I can, but I need a horse if I'm going to have any chance of returning in time to save his life."

The foreman took another slow, deep, draw on his cigar. He exhaled leisurely, looking pensive.

"I'm still waiting for an explanation as to why you're here."

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Ezra's patience was nearly at its breaking point. He inhaled sharply, maintaining his composure.

"I need to borrow your horse."

The foreman's mouth fell open and he almost lost his cigar. He was barely able to catch it before he threw his head back, laughing hysterically. Ezra grimaced. His expression icy.

"You actually thought I would let you borrow my horse?" he asked incredulously.

"No, not without good reason. This is an emergency."

"An emergency." he repeated. "Riding out into the middle of the night to get my horse maimed and killed, so you can pick up the cold dead corpse of your compadre, is not an emergency."

He took one last draw of his cigar and then put it out in the water. It made a brief sizzling sound as it was snuffed out.

"Usually, I'd be on Brooks side about something like this..."

Ezra glanced at Brooks who was still hovering right outside the door, just in time to catch a self-satisfied grin on his face. Ezra quickly looked away, as if he hadn't seen, and focused his attention back on the foreman.

"I mean you did break into my house and then walked right into my room while I was trying to bathe."

"You said for me to–"

"However," he interrupted. "Since you managed to give me a good chuckle, I'll forgive you... just this once."

Ezra stood, dumbfounded, not sure what to do next. The foreman looked at him with an unhappy expression, looking appalled to find Ezra still in his presence.

"Listen..." he paused. "What was your name again?"

"Ezra."

"That's right, Ezra...

Listen Ezra, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but your compadre is as good as dead. Say a prayer for his soul or whatever ritual you participate in to grieve and then move on. There's nothing else you can do."

He filled his lungs once more, then waved his hand again as he exhaled.

"You're excused."

Ezra stood in shocked silence. He was vaguely aware that he should be leaving, but he couldn't bring himself to move. The seconds passed on.

Then the foreman's expression turned dark.

"As gracious as I am, even my patience has it's limits..." he motioned to Brooks.

"Mr. Brooks. Escort Eric out of here."

"It's Ezra, sir." Brooks said.

The foreman shot him a condescending glare.

"Do I look like I care?"

Brooks hesitated; his cheeks turning crimson.

"Um... no."

" Get him out of here before you provoke my ire."

"Yes sir," Brooks said quickly. He tentatively reached out and placed his hand on Ezra's shoulder to lead him through the door. Normally, Ezra would have brushed his hand away immediately, but he was too stunned to react. Instead, he shuffled towards the exit.

"And don't forget to put my horse in the stables," the foreman said.

Brooks nodded emphatically.

The foreman struck a match, lighting a new cigar.

"Oh, Eric. One more thing..."

Ezra stopped in the doorway, his back to the despicable man, waiting on his response.

The foreman took a puff of his new cigar and exhaled even more slowly than before. The shadow of a smile appearing on his lips.

"My condolences to your friend."

Ezra felt a wave of heat flash through his body. It was the final straw. It set him off and his blood began to boil. He had the sudden overwhelming urge to turn, charge across the room, and strangle the foreman; then push his head down into the tub until he drowned in his own bath water.

He was on the edge of a knife. He came so close to turning on the foreman, that he could feel the anticipation surging throughout his entire being. Instead, by some miracle, he bit his tongue and walked away in silence.

The foreman watched him leave, grinning.