"Lou?"

The hotel owner looked up from fiddling with a flower arrangement as the marshal walked through the doors. "Oh, hello, Micah," she pleasantly greeted. "You and Mark have any luck?"

"Mark never showed up. I was hoping he was here."

"...No… I haven't seen him since he left this afternoon. ...Do you think something happened at the ranch?"

"It's probably nothing to worry about. I'm sure the cattle just gave him a bit more trouble than he was anticipating."

Lou looked out towards the setting sun, then to the grandfather clock across the room. Seeing the concern on her face, the marshal went on, "I'm sure he'll be here in no time. Probably got hungry after he was done working and decided to eat something before heading back this way."

The proprietor slowly nodded before turning back towards Micah. "I'm assuming you didn't catch anything?"

"Nothing more than a few weeds."

"Well head on in and take a seat. I'll fix us both somethin' to eat."

"Thanks."

After supper with Lou, Micah headed to the office. He straightened things up and tried reading a few reports, but his eyes kept wandering out the window, hoping to see Mark riding down the street. At eight o'clock the marshal set out to do the rounds, finding himself back at the hotel an hour later. Lou still sat at the desk; her eyes saying it all.

"I'll ride out there and see what's keeping him. ...Don't worry, I'm sure the boy just lost track of time."

"...I hope so, Micah," she quietly answered. "I hope so…"

The marshal rode into the McCains' yard to find BlueBoy saddled and waiting in front of the house. "Mark?" Micah looked around as he stepped down, waiting to hear the boy's voice in response. "Mark?"

Shaking his head, the marshal dismounted and climbed the porch stairs before knocking on the door. "Mark, you in there?" Receiving no response, he headed to the barn and looked around before returning to the porch and knocking once again. "Mark?"

Micah finally gave up and pushed the door open. He walked towards the table and lit a lantern; nearly dropping the light as his eyes fell on the prone figure beside the fireplace.

"Mark!" The marshal dropped to his knees beside the boy, horrified by the pool of blood that surrounded him. "Mark, wake up, boy! Wake up! Oh, God, please no!"

Micah bent down to place his ear on the youth's chest, holding his breath until an ever so faint heartbeat was heard. Unable to tell if the bleeding had stopped, he ran to a nearby cabinet and retrieved several bandages before wrapping them around Mark's wounds.

The marshal sprinted to the barn and hitched the team and drove the rig up to the side of the house. Jumping down from the seat, Micah rushed inside and gently picked the boy up, struggling to carry him out to the buckboard.

Finally, Micah was racing the team towards North Fork; fighting the tears that ran down his face as he pleaded for the boy's life. Upon reaching Doc Burrage's residence, the marshal jumped down from the buckboard, calling for the doctor as he pounded on the door.

"DOC! DOC!"

At long last the door opened, revealing the old man on the other side. "Micah, what in-"

The marshal grabbed the man's arm, pulling him towards the buckboard. "Mark's been shot!"

The fragile old man climbed into the back of the rig, his heart sinking at the sight of the youth. "Get us to my office, now!"

Micah jumped back into the driver's seat and slapped the reins, urging the horses on. Upon reaching the clinic, the men worked to carry Mark inside and placed him on the examination table.

"Micah, what's all the-" Lou interrupted her own question with a scream as her eyes fell on Mark. She rushed forward, Micah turning to hold her back. "No, no! What happened?!"

"Out!" Doc ordered, pushing the two out of the office. "Both of you out!"

As the door slammed shut behind them, Lou sank into the marshal's arms. "Oh, Micah, what happened?!" she cried, clutching her chest.

With tears still in his own eyes, Micah slowly began leading Lou to his office. "I… I don't know…"

Marshal and hotelkeeper sat in silence as the minutes slowly stretched into agonizingly long hours. They both stared at the ground, unable to push the memory of the boy's bloody body from their thoughts.

"...Mi… Micah?"

He slowly looked up without answering, unable to trust his voice.

"...How… how are we… goin' to tell Lucas?"

The marshal hung his head as he slowly shook it. For hours, he had wondered the same thing. But hearing the question made the reality of its answer that much more daunting.

"I'll…" His voice broke, bringing several more moments of silence before he went on. "...I'll tell him."

Lou looked at the window, taking in a deep breath as more tears fell down her face. "How could someone do this?!" she angrily cried. "He's just a boy! What kind of animal would… would…"

The rest of the woman's statement was overridden by sobs of grief. Micah slowly crossed the room, sitting down beside Lou and putting an arm around her.

"We'll find them," the marshal promised, tears in his voice. "I won't stop until whoever is responsible is locked up or strung up for what they've done! I…!"

Micah and Lou both looked up as the door to the office suddenly swung open, an exhausted Doc Burrage stepping inside. They both stood to their feet; their eyes begging the man for answers.

"I removed the bullets. That's all I can say."

"Bullets?" Lou tearfully asked. "How… how many times… was… he…"

"Four. One grazed his temple, another grazed his ribs. The other two lodged in his chest. He… he lost a significant amount of blood… and that's what has me so worried."

Micah swallowed hard as he looked into the doctor's concerned face. "...What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I don't know what's going to happen. ...Is there any way we can get word to Lucas?"

The marshal shook his head. "There's no telling where he is… there are a dozen different routes he could have taken with the cattle…"

"When's he due back?"

"...Tuesday," Lou quietly answered. "Tuesday or Wednesday…"

"...Well, at least by then, we should know."

It was early the next morning when Doc heard the door to his office open. He stepped into the front room, not surprised to see the marshal standing there.

"Micah," he wearily greeted.

"How's the boy?"

"No improvement, but… he's holding his own. You headed out to the ranch?"

Micah slowly nodded in response, his eyes falling on the door Mark lay behind.

"Do you want to see him?"

"...Thanks, Doc."

The marshal stepped into the next room, his heart breaking all over again as his friend's son came into view. He walked to the boy's side, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. …Please, Mark… fight. Fight to survive. Your pa… your pa needs you to live. ...I need you to live."

Several minutes passed as Micah stood beside the young man. He finally returned to the front room, hesitating to speak as he turned to the doctor.

"...What… what are… his chances?"

"I really can't…"

"Please, Doc. I have to know."

"I can't say because I don't know, Micah. ...At this point… nothing would surprise me. If he were older, stronger… maybe I could give a better prognosis. But I just don't know."

The marshal finally nodded in acceptance. He slowly left the office, mounted up, and rode out of town.

When he reached the McCain ranch, Micah took care of BlueBoy before forcing himself to walk inside the cabin. The marshal looked around the room, the red stains on the floor turning his stomach. It wasn't the sight of the blood itself that sickened the hardened marshal; it was knowing who it belonged to.

Micah continued to look around the room for anything that might give him an indication of what had happened the previous day. He was disgusted to find two more bullets lodged in the wall. Who would try to empty a gun into a fifteen-year-old boy?

Finding nothing of use inside the cabin, Micah cleaned the blood from the floor before returning to the yard. He searched the grounds for hours until finally picking up, what he hoped, was the perpetrator's trail.

A deathly silence hung in the air as Micah tracked a lone rider through the New Mexico countryside. Hatred boiled inside of the marshal; images of Mark's limp body flashing through his mind over and over again. Only for a brief moment did he reconsider his choice to forgo a posse, the anger inside of him justifying his decision. The man who did this was going to pay. And no posse was going to get in the way of that.

An old woman sat in her rocker, knitting yet another scarf as she heard a horse's trot behind her. She stopped mid-loop, listening to the way the rider dismounted before greeting him.

"Marshal Torrence, it's been quite a spell since you've made it out this way. I just about thought you done and forgot about me."

"Mrs. Mede." Micah's voice was controlled and steady as he walked up to the porch.

"It been a long time since anyone called me that, Marshal." She continued to fix her gaze downward, though there was nothing but blurred patches of color for her to see. "There somethin' you be after?"

"Your nephew still here?"

"Don't make no difference. Lucas gave up on Reef months ago… realized he'd only be doing him a favor by killing him."

A bit forcefully, Micah repeated his question. "Is he here?"

"It won't do no good for you to try an' force him outta here. I know as well as you do that he ain't wanted in this territory."

"He is now."

"What you talkin' about?"

"Mark McCain was nearly killed last night. And the trail of the person who did it leads straight back here."

The frail old woman froze at the lawman's words. She slowly lifted her head, only able to make out the silhouette of Micah's frame.

"...Marshal, I pray you be mistaken. ...This some ruse to run my nephew outta here?"

"I just spent half an hour cleaning the boy's blood from their cabin floor. I only wish I was here to run Reef out of town."

There was a long moment of silence before the old woman abruptly turned back to her knitting. "He's in the barn."

Micah stepped off the porch and cautiously approached the outbuilding. He stood to the side of one of the doors, suddenly pulling it open. He waited for gunfire, but none came.

Shotgun at the ready, the marshal hesitantly crept inside; whipping around at the sound of a cow kicking over the milking stool. Walking towards the other side of the barn, Micah stared in confusion at the figure he found curled up in the corner of a stall. The pitiful form rocked back and forth as his wild, tearful eyes continued to stare across the barn. His legs were drawn to his chest with his arms wrapped around them; his head repeatedly hitting against the stall partition.

"I didn't want to; he made me… I didn't want to hurt him… he made me…"

Micah continued to stare at the man in bewilderment. This couldn't be the man Lucas had been describing to him all these years; stature aside, they looked nothing alike.

"...Reef Jackson?"

The man did nothing to acknowledge the marshal's presence. He simply continued to quietly cry as he rocked himself back and forth. "I didn't want to… I didn't want to. He made me do it. I didn't want to hurt him…"

"I'm sorry, but it's just not possible, Micah."

"Well make it possible!" the marshal yelled, glaring at the judge. "Lucas is due back any day, and if Reef Jackson is here when he returns, it'll be Lucas's trial you're conducting!"

"I know how much Lucas hates the man, but these things take time. The prosecution and defense have to prepare; a jury has to be selected! Even if the trial started today, there's no guarantee it would be over before Lucas got back. And do you really think a verdict is going to stop the man?"

"No! That's why he needs to be well on his way to prison before Lucas comes home!"

"I'm sorry, Micah, but the only way that would even be plausible was if Jackson waived his right to trial by jury and pleaded guilty."

"Then I'll make him plead guilty!"

Judge Hanavan grabbed the marshal's arm, stopping him from walking back to the cells. "You'll do no such thing. You're much too closely involved in this."

"Too closely involved? Mark McCain might not live to see tomorrow, and you're worried about me being too closely involved?!"

"Yes, Micah! Because if we do this the wrong way, and they come back on us with a technicality, Jackson walks free!"

The marshal sighed in frustration before returning to his desk and collapsing into the chair.

"...I can't promise anything," the judge began, "...But I'm just as worried about what Lucas might do as you are. I'll get Mr. Casper to talk to Jackson and see if he can't advise him to plead guilty. ...But if he won't… my hands are tied. I'll expedite the process as much as I can, but it'd take a miracle to get Jackson out of here before Lucas returns."

Micah took in a deep breath and slowly let it out, finally nodding. "...Alright. But you explain to Ben-"

"I'll handle it, Micah. Trust me." The judge stood to take his leave, stopping just as he reached the door. "...Stay away from Jackson as much as you can. I can see it in your eyes… you're in dangerous territory, my friend."

"...If you had found the boy, you would be, too."

Time seemed to stretch on for an eternity that afternoon. The marshal often found himself anxiously glancing out the window, worried Lucas would return home early. It was nearing three when Ben Casper arrived at the office, removing his hat as he greeted the marshal.

"Micah."

"Ben," he replied, standing to retrieve the key. "The judge explain everything to you?"

The attorney nodded, waiting for the marshal to unlock the door that led to the cells. As he stepped into the next room, he was shocked to see a disheveled, sickly man huddled in the corner of a cell.

"That's Reef Jackson?"

"That's him."

"...Based on what Lucas told me…"

"I know," Micah agreed. "Apparently the years haven't been good to him. ...I have a feeling that may be why he's still alive."

Both men turned as someone suddenly burst into the main part of the office. "Micah!"

"Lou? What's wrong?"

"It's Mark, Doc thinks he's startin' ta come around!"

"Ben…"

"I'm going to need a while with him, anyway. I'll lock up when I'm done if you're not back."

"Thanks."

Side by side, Micah and Lou ran back to the doctor's office, entering the back room as Doc continued to try to coax Mark awake.

"Come on, now… open your eyes for me…"

Micah hurried to the boy's side, watching for the slightest movement. "Mark…"

"Quiet, Micah," Doc ordered. "Too many voices could confuse him. We want him to have one thing to…" The doctor's voice trailed off as he again saw the youth attempting to open his eyes. "Almost there, son. Come on, wake up, Mark…"

Tears formed in Lou's eyes as she watched his eyes open. They were dull and sunken, but they were open. The boy looked from one face to another, slowly blinking as he fought the urge to slip back into the comfort of darkness.

"Mark, can you hear me?"

The youth slowly turned towards the voice as his brow furrowed in pain and confusion.

"Mark?"

His heavy eyelids threatening to close, Mark again looked around the room. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. Seeing that his patient was close to losing consciousness again, Doc Burrage drew his attention once more.

"Mark, look at me. You need to stay awake."

Mark turned towards the man, his vision fading in and out. "P… Paaa…?"

"No, Mark. It's Doc Burrage. I'm here with Lou and Micah. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"P… Pa…"

The doctor reached out to put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Listen carefully, Mark. Listen to my voice. You know who I…" The doctor stopped speaking as he saw the patient shake his head.

"Wh… where?" he weakly asked.

"You're in my office."

Again, Mark ever so slightly moved his head from one side to the other. "P… Paaa… wh… where…"

"He's out of town, he went to buy cattle."

"P… Pa…"

"He'll be back soon. Mark, can you try to open your eyes a little more for me?"

"P… Paaa," he again called; wincing in pain as it radiated through his chest.

"Lou, hand me that lamp."

Lou crossed the room and retrieved the lamp before handing it over to the doctor.

"Now you're not going to like this, but I need you to wake up a bit more." Burrage moved the lamp closer to Mark's face, causing him to turn his head away. The boy started to lift his left hand to shield his eyes, letting out a small cry of pain as his arm dropped back onto the bed.

"Doc!" Micah yelled.

"Well I didn't think you'd go and do a fool thing like that," Burrage teased. "Micah, water," he called, gesturing to the pitcher beside the marshal.

Micah filled a glass and held it to the young man's lips as the doctor supported his head. Mark started with a few small sips until he suddenly realized what was being offered him. He readily took in large gulps of water, Micah attempting to pace the boy.

"There you go." As Mark finished the last of the water, Doc Burrage laid his head back on the pillow. "Mark, look this way, please."

He slowly turned towards the doctor once again, his eyes beginning to focus.

"Can you tell me who I am?"

Mark weakly nodded, still fighting heavy eyelids. "D-Doc…"

"Good. And what about that old codger over there?"

Mark didn't have the strength to turn again, but knew who the doctor was pointing at. "Mi… Micah. But… but P… Pa… wh… where's my…"

Unphased by the repeated question, Doc Burrage answered the boy. "Lucas left town a few days ago to buy cattle. He should be back in a day or two."

Mark hesitantly nodded, unable to shake the feeling that something had happened to his father.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

His gaze again shifted towards the doctor as Mark tried to think back. But the more he tried to think, the more unclear the past became. Seeing the panic and confusion creeping into his patient's eyes, Doc calmly reassured him. "It's alright, just think back slow and careful. It'll come to you in time."

Mark did as the doctor said, finally locking onto a memory. "...Check… checkers… with… with Nils. ...It… second time…"

"Friday?" Lou asked.

"Fr… Friday… night…"

"Good," Doc affirmed. "That's good, Mark."

Mark tried to look down at the source of most of his pain, but could only see the white of the bandage. "...What… happ… ened?"

"We're still piecing things together," Micah answered.

Confused, but willing to go along with the marshal for the time being, Doc quickly changed the subject. "What you need is something to eat. Lou, would you mind fixing him something?"

"Of course. I'll be back soon."

"Mark, you lie still and I'll be back in a few minutes. Try to stay awake. Micah, a word, please?"

Micah said goodbye to Mark and followed Doc out to the front room.

"The boy's going to remember, sooner or later," Doc said. "Lou told me you brought Reef Jackson in."

"Mark has no idea who the man is… Lucas didn't want him knowing."

"He'll have to be told eventually. He's going to start asking questions as he gets his bearings back."

"...Doc, we can't tell the boy. If he knows… he'll tell Lucas."

"...Aren't we going to tell Lucas?"

There were several moments of silence before Micah pulled Doc farther away from the door. "There are only a handful of people in town who know about Lucas and Reef's past. Even fewer know that he's the one that shot Mark. ...A few months ago, I thought I might have to arrest Lucas for Jackson's murder. I don't know what stopped him, but something did. Whatever that something was, I can promise you it won't stop him from going after Reef this time. To protect Lucas... to protect Mark from losing his father, we can't let either of them find out the truth."

"And just how do you plan on doing that? Lucas will be back before a trial can even get started!"

"There won't need to be a trial if Jackson pleads guilty. If I wire now, I can have a U.S. deputy marshal here by morning to transfer Jackson."

"And what about the rest of the town? A few of us may be able to keep this a secret, but the whole town?"

"We'll make it a private sentencing… no one else needs to know."

"And you don't think Lucas will find it suspicious that no one knows how his son wound up shot?"

"...We'll have to give them something…"

"Such as…?"

Micah thought for a few moments before looking back up at the doctor. "...We'll tell them the closest thing to the truth we can. Mark went back to the ranch and met an intruder."

"Do you have any idea what Lucas would do to us if he found out?"

"...Doc, Lucas is the closest friend I've ever had. He and Mark are really the only family I've got. But I'd rather risk losing that relationship than see Lucas hang. And we both know that's what would happen if Lucas was told the truth."

"And what if he finds the truth on his own? What if Mark has a different story to tell when his memory returns?"

"...Then we make sure he never finds out where Jackson was taken."