Beau rode as fast as he dared, not wanting Clyde or his henchman to spot him. The note to Bret had said, 'bring anyone else and I'll shoot your brother', and those words haunted him. He sighed, wondering for the millionth time how they got into these messes.

Beau suddenly came upon some rocks and realized that he could hear a galloping horse. He dismounted, going over to the edge of the boulders and peeking around them. It was a good thing, for a man on horseback suddenly blasted by, narrowly missing seeing him. If he'd ridden around the rocks without stopping, he would've been instantly caught. He wondered where the man was going in such a hurry and knew that it couldn't be a good thing, so he quickly mounted again and rode around the rocks. He was surprised to spot a shack, and he dismounted again and tied his horse's reins around a sapling before stealthily creeping towards it. He came to a window and peeked inside, spotting Bret kneeling beside Bart, who he couldn't see very well. A stab of fear hit his stomach, but he had no time to wonder what they had done to his cousin before the face of a stranger popped up from below the window inside, and nearly startled Beau to death.

It was Ned, and he raised his gun to point at Beau's face through the glass, before doing the 'come here' gesture with his finger.

Beau pointed to himself as if to say, 'who, me?'

Ned nodded.

With a sigh, Beau took a step towards the door, which opened as Ned came out.

"Inside," he said, gesturing with the gun.

"All right, all right, no need to get nasty," Beau said, hands raised as he walked into the door. He felt Ned take the gun out of his holster as he passed him, and Beau lowered his arms and hurried over to kneel beside Bret. "What happened?"

"Chloroform…and they gave him too much," Bret told him. The expression of fear that he shot at him made Beau realize how serious it was. "Feel his pulse."

Beau obeyed, wrapping his fingers around Bart's wrist and feeling the uneven, stuttering beat. He looked at Bret with shock on his face.

Before he could say anything, Ned came back over and pointed the gun at him. "Go sit in that chair."

Beau made a show of looking around. "Which chair? There are more than one."

Ned rolled his eyes. "That one," he said, gesturing to the chair that was closest to them.

"Can't I stay right here?" said Beau. "The view is lovely from the floor."

"NOW!"

Beau sighed and shot a look at Bret as he stood. Raising his hands, he headed over to the chair and sat down.

"Tie him up, Emmet," said Ned.

Emmet grabbed some rope off a nearby table and obeyed.

Bret kept his attention on Bart, never removing his fingers from his pulse. Half of him wanted to try to wake his brother up, but the other half was glad that Bart didn't have to lie awake gasping for air. He wondered if the sudden loss of consciousness had been caused by the chloroform that was still in Bart's bloodstream, or if it was because of his irregular heartbeat. Either way, he knew that they needed to get Bart out of there now…but in his condition, was it safe to move him?

Bret raised his left hand and scrubbed it over his face. Anything that affected Bart's heartbeat could possibly kill him. What on earth were they going to do?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

In town, Clyde had sent his telegram and was waiting impatiently for the reply. When it came, he quickly read it before angrily folding it and sticking it into his pocket. Storming out of the telegraph office, he mounted his horse and took off, nearly running over an innocent old lady in his haste.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Beau sat quietly in his chair, his eyes never leaving his unconscious cousin. Nothing in his entire life had ever shocked him as much as the feel of Bart's pulse…instead of the typical two beats, it did four, then three, then four, and then there was a space of time before three again…not once did it do what it was supposed to; not once. If Bart didn't die, Beau wondered if the irregular heartbeat would be permanent.

Bret's back was killing him by now after leaning over for so long to keep his fingers on the pulse on the side of Bart's neck, so he turned his body around and sat beside his brother, leaning back against the wall with Bart's arm in his lap so he could keep his fingers on the pulse in his wrist instead. He was so worried that he didn't notice that Beau was trying to get free.

When Emmet had tied Beau's wrists behind him in the chair, Beau had kept his wrists as far apart as he could as the rope looped around them. He had succeeded in keeping room to maneuver, and fought to pull a thumb free. Once he did that, he knew that he would be able to pull one hand out. It took a little while, but he eventually succeeded. Suddenly, he craned his neck to look towards a window, and exclaimed, "Is that the sheriff?"

Ned and Emmet were shocked to hear that, and they both rushed to get to the window, passing between Beau and Bret. As if they'd planned it, Bret grabbed Emmet and Beau grabbed Ned, disarming them both.

Bret pointed the gun into Emmet's face. "Which one of you chloroformed him? Which one?"

Emmet opened his mouth and closed it again, in fear.

"Forget that for now, Bret," said Beau, throwing Ned into the chair that he'd been occupying and tying him up. "We need to get Bart out of here."

Bret glared daggers at Emmet for another second before throwing him into another chair and tying him up too. He then went back to Bart and knelt. "I don't think he'll last on horseback," he said, as Beau knelt beside him. "We need a wagon."

Beau nodded his agreement. "I don't suppose there's one around here?" Beau turned around and pointed his gun at Ned. "Is there?"

Ned nodded. "In the back."

Beau inclined his head. "Much obliged." He stood and headed outside, grabbing Bret's horse and taking it around the back towards the wagon. Once there, he hitched the horse to it and walked it to the front of the shack, before talking the canteen off the horse.

Inside the shack, Bart appeared to be waking up again; his breathing had started to increase and he'd given a little moan.

Bret gripped his shoulder. "It's Bret, Bart, don't get upset," he said. "Your heart decided to go dancing, but it's doing a dance that I can't say I've ever seen before."

Bart said nothing, eyes still closed, breathing heavily.

Bret heard the door open but he didn't look up. "Did you find it, Beau?" he asked.

"Yes," came Beau's voice. "But we have a problem."

Bret looked up to see Clyde walking behind Beau with his gun pointed at his back. His own heart seemed to freeze in his chest, and he gave no answer.

"So," said Clyde, as if nothing had happened. "I sent my telegram and received a reply."

Since Bret hadn't killed Clyde's father, he expected good news…so the gun in Beau's back didn't make sense. "And?"

"You're right," said Clyde. "You didn't kill my father."

Bret smiled. "Great! Did they tell you who did?"

Clyde nodded. "They did indeed." He took the paper out of his pocket and tossed it to him.

Bret opened it, and was shocked at what he read: The name on the hotel roster that night wasn't Bret Maverick, it was Bart Maverick.

Bret dropped the telegram.

TBC