I love Art. After Raylan (obviously) and Boyd, he's probably my favorite character. In an interview, the actor said he'd like the show to give us more about Art's private life. I hope they do and I've tried to put a slice of that in this piece.

Reviews are candy. I like candy.

He shrugs on his jacket, preparing to head out. He needs to connect with a detective in the robbery division at Lexington PD and if he remembers correctly there's a bakery on the way with great coffee and better doughnuts. Faylene is back on Weight Watchers and the bran cereal with skim milk he had an hour ago just ain't cuttin' it.

"Art?"

He looks up. "Winona."

"Can we talk?"

"Now Winona, you know how fond I am of you, but if this is about Glenco…."

"No, no…." She insists, shaking her head.

Art listens as she explains what Raylan's gotten himself into this time. He feels for her. Really he does. He's watched as she and Raylan have danced around each other for the last year. They've obviously connected again and either she or Raylan thinks going back to Glenco will solve all their problems. Art's skeptical about that. Travelling backwards is never a good idea in his book. And Raylan, well, he doesn't seem capable of change. Lord knows, Art's tried.

He shakes his head at her. "Sometimes you just can't help."

"I'm pregnant."

The words don't register at first, and Art stares at her for a moment. "You're pregnant?"

She nods, looking small, and Art recalls the young, hopeful girl he met so long ago in Georgia; bright and full of life. He's seen a harder woman the past year, one who's done things he can't abide; but that girl is still there, and she's scared.

"Raylan know?"

Again, she nods.

"Well, that explains Glenco." Art says. He pauses. "Congratulations?"

"Thank you." She pauses, blinking away tears. "Art, please help him. Don't let him die down there today."

Crap. Art realizes he's in this up to his neck, whether he wants to go after that goddamn cowboy or not; he isn't about to be the reason this child grows up without a father.

"OK," he sighs, "Tell me again about what's happened with Loretta."

Winona relays the story once more. Art tells her he'll give Tom a call down in Harlan and see what he can find out. She thanks him and leaves as he picks up the phone.

"Tom," Art says when the trooper picks up. "Art Mullin up at the Marshals' office. Listen, Raylan Givens is down your way lookin' for that McCready girl. Evidently she's ditched her foster family. She's got a gun and he thinks she's headed out to the Bennett place."

"Interesting." Tom says. "We've had an explosion out at Johnny Crowder's. No word on casualties, but it seems like things may be back on between the Crowders and the Bennetts, and we both know Arlo Givens is in league with Boyd Crowder."

"Yup. And we know Dickie Bennett's the one who shot Helen Givens." Art mulls this over for a moment. "What would you think of us coming down, just to be sure this thing doesn't escalate?"

"I got no problem with that, Art. I'll keep a look out for Deputy Givens."

"Thanks, Tom." Art hangs up the phone and calls out "Tim! Rachel! Get your gear. We're goin' down to Harlan."

He picks up the phone to let Winona know, as he promised; but at the last minute dials home instead. If things go badly, and considering the parties involved they could, he acknowledges grimly to himself, Winona will need someone.

"Hey Hon," he says when Faylene picks up. "You gonna be home today?"

"I been for my walk and with the kids here this weekend there's a ton of laundry I didn't do, so yeah, I'll be here. Why? "

Art explains.

"You tell her to call me she needs anything at all." Faylene says firmly. "And Art; you find Raylan and make up. I'm tired of you skulking around the house like you lost your last friend. Whatever he's done either make something of it or don't, but either way, get over it."

"Yes, Dear," Art says, a smile in his voice. It's been their code for 'I know you're right.' going on thirty years now.

"Love you," Faylene says.

"Love you, too. And Fay…."

"Yeah?"

"Thanks." He hangs up the phone and calls Winona to let her know they're heading out.

Art turns down the all too familiar road that leads to Harlan. Faylene is right. This thing with Raylan and the money has been eating away at him, and obviously at Raylan, too. Art needs to either shit or get off the pot as his old man used to say.

"Well, fuck me." Art says out loud to no one. He'd made his decision when he cut Raylan off, short of confessing, explaining, or justifying whatever he'd done. Art guesses he'll just have to live with that.

Just outside of Harlan proper, Art's radio crackles to life. "Yeah." He answers.

"We're here on the ridge just past the Bennett place," Tim says. "Between us and the state folks, we got it pretty much surrounded."

"Good. I'm five minutes out. Any sign of Raylan?"

"Nope. Not yet. But the girl's here."

"He'll be there then. Keep an eye out."

"Always."

Art steps on the gas.

Pulling quietly into the clearing below the ridge, Art slows the car and parks in some brush. He glances up the hill. Crap. His knees will make him pay for this climb tomorrow, if not sooner. He shrugs on his jacket, grabs the horn and heads up to meet Tim and the others.

Rachel motions to him from a cluster of trees and he bends down to her line of sight.

"Raylan just got here. Looks like that's Dickie Bennett with him."

He takes the binoculars from her and checks it out. "Yeah, that's the sonofabitch." As Art watches, Doyle heads out to meet the car. The rednecks on the porch look trigger-happy and Art hopes nothing happens to set them off.

Tim is in sniper mode, totally still and focused, so Art scans the perimeter and finds his own spot to watch and wait. Just as he drops to one knee, a shot rings out from inside the house, followed instantly by a volley of shots from those idiots lining the porch.

Art looks up to see Raylan fall. Doyle Bennett approaches, gun pointed at Raylan on the ground, and Tim fires; dropping him like a stone.

"Go! Go, go!" Art shouts and the marshals advance to take control of the scene. His heart beating wildly, Art scuttles down the ridge, relieved beyond measure to see Raylan struggle to his feet, leaning against the car.

"Drop your weapons and get on the ground!" Art shouts at the stunned rednecks on the porch. "Drop your weapons or you WILL be shot. Assume the position!"

As he advances, the idiots continue to stare at Doyle's lifeless body and Art loses patience. "You dumbass peckerwoods understand English? On the ground, hillbillies!"

Art approaches Raylan, who's staring at him like he sees a ghost or the Good Lord Jesus.

"You all right, Raylan?"

"Been better." His eyes meet Art's. "It's good to see ya, Art." He turns away, walking gingerly toward the house. "Got at least two inside, one bein' Loretta McCready."

Art sees the blood. He knows Raylan's taken a bullet. He also knows it's useless to try to stop him. "Tim, Rachel, go with him. Clear the house." Art barks.

Art helps the marshals and the staties round up the idiots and get them into various cruisers. "Better get the EMTs out here." he tells Tom. "Looks like Raylan caught one. Couldn't tell how bad, but he was walkin'."

Tom grabs his radio and relays the message. "On their way," He tells Art. "Along with the coroner." He motions at Doyle's body. "Raylan got lucky. Your sniper took him out just in time."

"Yep." Art says. He glances toward the house. Raylan's been in there awhile and he considers going in to check when Rachel and Tim appear in the doorway, Loretta McCready between them.

"Where's Raylan?" Art asks. Rachel helps Loretta into the back of the only unoccupied cruiser, talking quietly to the girl.

"Raylan's in there with Mrs. Bennett." Tim says. "He talked the girl down."

"It was pretty amazing to watch." Rachel says.

Art waits, expecting to see Raylan in the doorway with the Bennett matriarch any moment. Nothing. Art walks over to the cruiser and leans in. "You all right?" He asks Loretta.

"Yessir." The child stares straight ahead, tears already dry on her face.

Straightening up, he faces Rachel. "She shot Mrs. Bennett?"

"In the leg," Rachel nods. "Flesh wound, but she did discharge a firearm. Not sure we can keep charges from being filed. Still, she ought to get off with some kind of probation."

"Will the foster family take her back?"

"Who knows?" Rachel shrugs. "Tom's calling them now."

"Hate to see her go to juvie, or some group home." Art says, shaking his head. "Where the heck is Raylan? What the hell is he doing in there anyway?" Art barks to no one in particular.

"Art?" Tim says, pointing to the porch.

Raylan staggers out, leaning for a moment on the railing. Then he sits, hard, on the top step, hand on his side. Art moves faster than he thought he could, leaning over his wounded Marshal.

"You sit. Ambulance is on its way."

"I'll be fine." Raylan grimaces. "Feels like a through and through."

"Shot is shot, dammitt." Art says, easing down to sit beside him. "Where's Mrs. Bennett?"

"Dead." Raylan says.

"Dead?" Art says. "I know my hearin's bad, Raylan, but I didn't hear a shot."

"Poison. Just like she did to Loretta's daddy."

"Poison? How in the hell…."

"Apple pie." Raylan is breathing heavier, and his voice is low. Art wonders if he's in shock.

"Start over, Raylan. You ain't makin' sense."

Raylan takes a deep breath. He's obviously in some pain. "Moonshine. She offered me a drink. Figured it was the least I could do to sit with her for a bit after I told her 'bout Doyle. Turns out, she put poison in her own glass."

Art shakes his head. "You think it was smart to sit down and have a drink with her? She coulda poisoned you, too!" He's angry now. "You take too many damn risks and you got more to think about than yourself now."

Raylan raises his head and stares at Art. "And why's that?"

Art wonders for a moment if Winona lied about Raylan knowing, but then the deputy raises an eyebrow and gives Art a weak grin. "You talked to Winona."

"She came to see me." Art says.

"I wondered how you knew where to find me. Not that I wasn't happy to see you."

"Winona told me 'bout you takin' off after Loretta."

"Seems like she told you more than that."

"Hell, Raylan you got her worried half sick." Art stops, softens his tone. "You know, it's been the best thing in my life."

"What?"

"The kids. Faylene. Best part of my life." Art says. "This…" he waves his arm to take in the cruisers and the coroner's van that's just arrived. "This is a job, Raylan. It pays the bills. On the good days it gives some satisfaction, sure; and on the bad days, well, that's what the bottle in the drawer is for."

The ambulance pulls through the gate and Art waves the EMTs over.

"Family, Raylan. People who love you. That's what's important." He pats Raylan's shoulder. "I'll call Glenco tomorrow. See what I can do."

Art watches the medics treat Raylan, strapping him onto the stretcher and loading him into the ambulance. The lack of protest on his deputy's part lets Art know just how bad Raylan must be feeling. Art makes a couple of calls on his cell, then shouts out just as the EMT is about to shut the door.

"Just a sec," Art says. "Can I talk to him a minute?"

"Just for a minute." the young man says. "We just gave him some pretty strong pain meds and we really need to get him to the hospital."

Art steps in and leans close. "I called Winona and she wants you to know she's on her way."

"Thanks, Art."

"Don't mention it." Art says. He steps down and the medic closes the door. The ambulance pulls away, sirens wailing, and Art watches it until it disappears.