Author's Notes: Thank you all so much for sticking with me and this story! It is my aim to have it wrapped before the When Calls the Heart "New Year's Event" on Dec. 26th. To that end, this a pretty pivotal chapter. This is my take on the counterfeiting ring. I'm sure our talented writers have something much more clever planned for the show and I can't wait to see what it is! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter. Thanks, again, for reading and sharing your wonderful feedback! I am hoping to post another chapter before Thanksgiving, but, if I run out of time and don't, I hope you have a very blessed holiday with your loved ones!

Chapter Thirty-Seven

"At his best,

man is the noblest of all animals;

separated from law and justice

he is the worst."

~Aristotle

Jack peered around the corner at the warehouse across the street. The lights were burning brightly inside the warehouse where the counterfeiters were meeting. Looking at his watch, he noted that it had been ten minutes since the last of the counterfeiting gang had arrived. He turned his attention to the building next door, where Bill was hiding, and watched the corner of the building. After a minute, Bill leaned out and pointed at the warehouse. Immediately, Jack pulled out his gun and crossed the street, moving quickly toward the warehouse. He and Bill met at the warehouse's front door, where all of the counterfeiters had earlier entered the building.

Bill nodded to Jack and carefully tried the door knob. Finding the door locked, he turned to Jack and whispered, "Window." Jack nodded and turned to his left. He down the side of the warehouse to a group of windows and attempted to slide the first window open. Like the door, it, too, was locked. However, after trying two more windows, he found one that wasn't. He carefully slid it open and peered inside. Though it was dark, he was able make out that it was a small, empty room.

Jack turned to Bill and nodded before climbing through the open window. Once inside, he swiftly crossed the room and found the door. He tried the handle and smiled when he found it unlocked. Movement behind him caught his attention and he turned around to see Bill climbing through the window.

"Is it open?" Bill whispered after he was inside the room and moving toward Jack.

Jack nodded.

Bill nodded back as he took up position behind Jack. "Okay," Bill whispered and Jack slowly opened the door. Jack exhaled a relieved sigh when he saw that crates were stacked almost to the ceiling directly in front of the door, blocking he and Bill from the view of anyone in the open warehouse area. He moved toward the crates and Bill followed.

"Are these all of the plates?" a loud, deep voice bellowed from the other side of the pile of crates.

Jack peered around the corner of the pile of crates to see what was happening in the warehouse. He quickly counted thirteen men. Most were loading equipment into boxes. Three men were busy counting bills.

"Yeah," a short man answered. "And that's all the money, too."

"This is so stupid!" a stocky, bearded man with a gruff voice protested. "I was just getting things rolling out there and you call us all back in! I didn't even have time to get all my funny bills cashed. We could've gotten a lot more money if you'd just given us another week or two!"

"We don't have a week or two, you idiot!" the tall, well-dressed man with the loud, deep voice yelled back. "We've got to get this operation cleared up now!"

"We might be able to move everything to the States, but we need to get everything boxed up and stored safely," another short sticky man, also well-dressed, added. "The Mounties are getting too close."

While the counterfeiters were talking, Duncan's face appeared in one of the windows directly across from Jack and Bill, behind the counterfeiters. He carefully slid it open and climbed through the window. Landing silently on the warehouse floor, he turned to assist McDonald as he followed him through the window. Unlike Jack and Bill, they had no cover available to them and were in full view of the counterfeiters. Fortunately, so far, they had gone unnoticed.

"Mounties?" the stocky man hollered. "Thought you said you had 'em in your back pocket. What happened to that Mountie who was here before?"

No one answered the man.

Duncan and McDonald glanced around the room looking for a place to hide and spotted another pile of crates near the front door. They started to quickly move toward it.

Behind the other pile of crates, Bill tapped Jack's arm, getting his attention. He started to whisper something to Jack, but was interrupted by a yell from the warehouse, "Hey! What are you doing in here?"

Jack turned around and saw the counterfeiters were all looking to the other side of the room. When he followed their gaze, he saw Duncan and McDonald, who had now stopped dead in their tracks, staring at the counterfeiters. A few shocked seconds passed before all of them drew their guns at once.

"Who the heck are you two?" the stocky man with the gruff voice called.

"Lower your weapons now?" Duncan called. "Royal Northwest Mounted Police!"

"You're Mounties?" the tall man asked, surprised.

"Put your guns down!" Duncan ordered.

Jack was watching the standoff intently and jumped when Bill tapped his arm again. "We need to get out there," Bill whispered.

Jack nodded but didn't reply. He glanced around the crates again as Bill continued, "You go that way..."

"Bill, wait," Jack interrupted him, whispering, too. "What if we could create a distraction?"

"What kind of distraction?" Bill asked.

Jack nodded toward the pile of crates near the front door, about fifteen feet from the pile of crates behind which they were crouched. "I'll go over there," Jack whispered.

"And then we send both piles tumbling," Bill finished the thought.

Jack nodded. "Should be enough of a distraction for us to be able take them all," Jack explained.

"Okay, as soon as you get over there, we knock over the piles," Bill ordered in a barely audible voice. "Then, you run to the right of that pile. I'll run to the left of this one, With Duncan and McDonald over there, we'll have all sides covered."

"Agreed," Jack nodded. He moved to the right side of the pile of crates and carefully peered around. The standoff continued.

"Drop your guns, Mounties!" the stocky man yelled. "You'll never take us all before we take you!"

"Two against thirteen ain't too great odds," the short man added.

With their backs turned, none of the counterfeiters saw Jack soundlessly rush to the other pile of crates. Once there, he glanced back and saw Bill preparing to shove the crates. They nodded to each other and sent both piles of crates tumbling.

The crates made an incredible racket as they hit the floor. The crates fell on top of some of the counterfeiters, pinning them underneath. The counterfeiters who weren't hit by the crates were momentarily distracted, giving Jack and Bill time to take positions on opposite sides of the room.

Six counterfeiters, including one of the well dressed men and the short man, were trapped under the crates and yelled for help. The other counterfeiters screamed at their colleagues, concerned. They began rushing toward the pile of crates when Bill called, "Stop! Drop your weapons!"

The counterfeiters' attention snapped toward Bill and saw him training his gun on them. The stocky man with the gruff voice scoffed, "Three Mounties against all of us!"

"Drop your weapons!" Jack yelled, surprising them and drawing their attention.

There was several intense seconds as everyone held fast, guns drawn. Some counterfeiters aimed at Jack, some at Bill, Then, Bill spotted the stocky man start to pull the trigger of his gun and fired at him. The bullet hit the man's hand forcing him to drop his gun and yell out in pain.

"Anyone else feeling stupid?" Bill yelled. When several seconds passed with no one taking a shot, Bill continued, "Alright, I want you all to drop your weapons and kick them toward the Constables over there." He pointed to Duncan and McDonald. All the counterfeiters did as instructed. Bill turned to the stocky man whose hand he'd shot and directed him, "Kick that gun to them over there."

The stocky man frowned, cradling his injured hand against his chest. He looked as though he wanted to argue with Bill but, instead, did as instructed. Bill nodded to Duncan and McDonald who started to collect the guns. "Those who aren't already on the floor, lay face down with your hands behind your back," he ordered.

He and Jack moved toward the counterfeiters and began handcuffing them. After Bill cuffed the tall, well dressed man first, the man turned to Bill and asked, "Who squealed?" Bill didn't answer as he moved to cuff the next man but the well dressed man continued, "Who was it? Who's the rat?" He tried to roll on his side to see Bill. "Was it that louse Houston? I figured he'd turn on us!"

The other well dressed man, who'd worked his way out of the crates but was still laying on the warehouse floor, parried, "No! I bet it was that snobby jerk you insisted we bring in! It had to be that Limey Lionel."

Jack's attention snapped toward the man as he continued, "I knew that Limey snob would chicken out on us," the man complained. "Lionel! I told you not to bring him in!"

Hearing the name again, Jack looked from the men to Bill. "Lionel?" he asked.

Bill looked up, frowning, and met Jack's gaze.