As Harry and Louis stared in disbelief at the two guys who were climbing the gate to get at them, they exchanged a look. They were thinking the same thing: They sure hoped the guys didn't have any weapons on them. A concealed gun or knife could mean someone could get badly hurt or killed.

"You drop down on this side, and I'm not responsible for what happens to you," Harry said in a deadly tone. His low voice emphasized the grimness of his words. The guys were almost to the top when they both paused, each looking at the other as if the other one had the answer. They must have decided they were already committed because they resumed their climb, doubling their efforts as if they were trying to convince themselves that they could take Harry and Louis on.

When they released their grip on the fence to drop to the other side, Harry and Louis were ready for them. They hadn't had to share a single word. They were of the same mind as they stepped forward, lunging at the guys before their feet even reached the ground. Hard punches on the head and kidney area pulled the guys up short. The blond guy crumpled to the ground, but the tall, wiry guy named Brian wheeled around and threw a punch at Louis. Although nine inches shorter, Louis used it to his advantage. When the punch whizzed over his head, Louis grabbed the guy's shirt and yanked him forward, then as the guy lost his balance and began to fall forward, Louis rammed his knee into the guy's abdomen. The guy, of course, clutched his belly as he went down and rolled on the ground, trying to get a lungful of air.

Monkey was barking furiously inside his run, scratching at the wire, teeth bared.

Meanwhile, the blond guy was trying to get to his feet, but Harry didn't allow him to. He punched him in the cheek just as the guy was scrambling to get his footing.

"Dumb shits!" Louis yelled as he opened the gate. "I can't believe you climbed it when all you had to do was open it!"

Harry and Louis proceeded to grab them by their collars and physically throw them out of the gate.

"From now on, we're keepin' that gate locked, and electrifyin' it to boot!" Harry said as he cradled his sore fist that had connected with the blond guy, and he made sure he said it loud enough for the two to hear it. He wasn't planning on doing that, but he wanted them to think he would. He was going to have to do something though, something that would deter them from trying that stunt again. They were dumb as rocks, as Louis had pointed out, but that didn't mean they weren't dangerous just the same.

Maybe I'll get a couple of Rottweilers, he thought to himself, but then discarded that idea. He couldn't stand the thought of anyone shooting a dog.

Once the guys had picked themselves off the ground and dragged themselves to their vehicle and left, Harry and Louis had a laugh about it.

"They didn't even land one punch!" Louis laughed. They let Monkey out of his pen and went inside the house to put ice on their scraped, bruised knuckles.

"They're not gonna stop," Louis said solemnly. "I think you're right about goin' to Stockholm Ranch. But both of us will go, not just you," he pointed out firmly.

Harry relented. "Alright. Let's do it tomorrow. Like you said, it's clear they aren't gonna stop, so the sooner we go, the better. We'll have to go into town and find out exactly where the ranch is, and get the owner's name."

That night, Harry spooned Louis, and nothing sexual happened, but there was plenty of affection. They were both uneasy about tomorrow. What if they were shot at? It wasn't as civilized out here as most urban areas, and a deputy would be slow in responding on these dirt roads. They'd more or less be on their own.

But there was no way around it. Something had to be done now before the blond guy and Brian decided to do something worse.

Next morning they snuggled, and Louis kissed Harry's neck, making him gasp with need. But they didn't have time. They ate some of Louis' homemade granola, did the morning chores, and as they prepared to drive into town, Harry laid his hand on Louis' back. He had seen the tension in him. Louis leaned into the touch, still not completely comfortable with showing and receiving affection, but improving.

It wasn't difficult to find out where Stockholm Ranch was, or the owner's name. People loved to talk and gossip. The ranch was in the town of Douglas, and the owner's name was Earl Hoffman. Harry was pleased after finding out Mr. Hoffman was described as a very kind man from a random town-goer. That would make their visit that much easier, and it eased his fretting mind somewhat. If the man was kind, he was likely not insane, and that was always a good thing.

So they set off for Douglas. Louis was clearly distressed, fidgeting constantly on the bench seat. Harry patted him on the shoulder several times during the drive, hoping to instill some comfort. He would have held his hand, but it didn't seem Louis was ready for that yet. Louis gave him a half-assed smile.

"Harry, I really don't want you gettin' outta the truck," he said mournfully.

"No worries, Lou. No way am I lettin' you get out alone. We'll do it together."

You couldn't miss the ranch. It had white washed fences everywhere that held plenty of well-bred cattle and many top of the line Quarter horses in various paddocks. Weanlings were grouped together, as were young calves. There were a couple of top-notch looking stallions in their solid pipe corrals, a good distance from the other horses. An impressive barn stood in the rear with the capacity to hold dozens of horses. Pastures spread far and wide. Harry figured the ranch was at least fifty acres. The house was a sprawling oak and rock, and there were separate quarters by the barn that Harry supposed were for ranch hands. They were individual cottages instead of a bunkhouse.

That cost some money to build, thought Harry. There were at least eight of them.

He looked at Louis to see his reaction to the place, and found a very pale, shaky version of Louis. He was staring blankly at the ranch, a look on his face Harry had never seen before.

"Lou, what's wrong?"

Louis gulped and attempted to speak, causing a coughing fit. He took a sip of water from his water bottle and tried to speak again.

"I . . . I'm rememberin!'" he said with apparent alarm.

"What are you rememberin?'"

"This place! I remember workin' here!" Louis looked frightened and excited at the same time. Harry supposed he was happy about his memory of the place coming back, but was frightened of what he might be facing here.

"What else?" asked Harry, dying to find out, and wishing he could help Louis with this process.

"Not sure."

Harry would have preferred they stay in the truck long enough for Louis to gather himself, but they got out of the truck quickly at Louis' insistence. Harry reckoned Louis had to force the issue because he was very uneasy and restless. That was no surprise.

Mr. Hoffman himself answered their knock on the door. Harry knew it was the owner instantly. An imposing man with a commanding posture, he was about Harry's height. He was clean shaven with short hair that was starting to grey, and middle-aged. The pleasant look on his face came naturally, Harry deduced. But when he saw Louis, his intelligent expression held both confusion and caution.

"Hi, I'm Harry. Harry Styles," Harry extended his hand, and Mr. Hoffman shook it, glancing over again at Louis only after acknowledging Harry.

"I'm Earl Hoffman," he said to Harry rather absently, his gaze now glued on Louis as if he couldn't look away.

"Louis," he said warily. "I didn't expect to see you around here."

There was no malice in his voice, but the man became slightly rigid, as if he didn't know what to expect.

"He's lost his memory," Harry interjected before Mr. Hoffman said something about the way Louis was staring rather vacantly.

"No," Louis spoke up. "Not all of it. I remember the ranch, and you, Mr. Hoffman."

"Your memory? Uh, would you two like to come in?" Mr. Hoffman offered, and Harry got the impression it was said mostly out of politeness. The man clearly was not comfortable in their presence.

"Why don't we just stay outside?" suggested Harry, hoping that might ease the man's skepticism. Mr. Hoffman pointed out the glider on his porch, and he himself sat opposite and facing it, on the porch railing.

"You must be wonderin' why we're here," Harry began. "We hate to disturb you, but two former ranch hands of yours paid us a visit yesterday. Actually, the blond one had already been by the day before, so this was the second visit. He had Brian with him the second time."

Mr. Hoffman nodded slowly, pulling a small cigar out of his pocket and lighting it. Puffing thoughtfully, he met Harry's eyes again. "The blond one would be Nathan."

Harry tucked that piece of information away and got right to the meat of the matter. "They accused Louis of stealing an expensive saddle."

Cigar?" asked Mr. Hoffman. Harry and Louis both shook their heads and said, "No, thank you" as one.

Mr. Hoffman nodded again, getting comfortable on the railing, showing little emotion.

"It was a show saddle. I didn't know who stole it, so no way could I single anyone out. So I did the only thing I could do, and that was to fire all four of them." His eyes darted to Louis, and Harry thought he saw a touch of regret there.

Harry's urge to ask Mr. Hoffman why he hadn't done anything about it was almost overwhelming, but he waited patiently. If the man wanted to tell him, he would.

"I needed more ranch hands. Four aren't enough for this place. But I had to let the four I had go. Wasn't particularly sad to see Brian and Nathan go, and I never got to know Fletcher that well. He was only here a few weeks. They all worked hard, most of all, Louis, right here," Mr. Hoffman gestured at Louis, and that look of almost-regret crossed his features again.

"Are you a friend of Louis?'" he asked, studying Harry. "You also have a British accent."

"Actually, he was ridin' by my ranch and had no memory, like I said. I took him in, and now he's my friend and ranch hand," Harry stated. "The fact that we both came from England was a coincidence."

Mr. Hoffman pondered this. "Is your memory improving?" he asked Louis.

"Yes, it is. At first I didn't even know me name. But in the last six months it's been comin' back in bits and pieces."

"Nathan and Brian – what else did they say? Were they belligerent?" asked Mr. Hoffman.

Louis chose to answer this time. "Yeah, they were. The second time, they climbed our gate, tryin' to take us on, but we punched 'em and told them to leave, but then Nathan had been told to leave and never come back the first time, so I don't think they're done."

"Louis, I'm sorry," Mr. Hoffman said after a few moments. I'm about as sure as I can be that you didn't steal the saddle. I had always had a good feeling about you since the beginning. You were the hardest, most efficient worker, and you always seemed honest."

Louis nodded. "How long did I work here?"

"Just over two years."

"What happened the day you let us go?"

"I explained why I had to, and you all left right away, as I asked. The others had trucks, and a couple of them had horse trailers. You didn't. You rode off on your mare, and you were so upset about being fired that you didn't even take your wallet or any of your belongings."

"Do you still have them?" asked Louis.

"Yep, everything. I was hoping that some day you'd be back for them. You have clothes and some personal items, but not a whole lot. I felt I should look for you, after thinking about it and realizing you hadn't stolen the saddle, but I hadn't the first clue where to look. I never saw you in town."

"I ended up forty miles away, at Harry's ranch."

"Forty miles? Must've taken you days to get there."

Harry nodded. "He looked it. I could tell he'd been ridin' for a while. Had a goose egg on his head, but his mare showed no sign of fallin.' We're still wonderin' what exactly happened."

"I know what happened," Mr. Hoffman offered. "As Louis was riding off, Nathan threw a rock indiscriminately, I first thought, in frustration because he'd lost his job. Threw it in Louis direction, and it hit your mare, Louis. I thought it was an accident, but now I'm not so sure. Your mare took a huge leap to the side, you weren't prepared, and you fell off. I went to go see how you were, but you got up almost right away, mounted, and rode off again. I had no idea you'd hit your head."

So now they knew.

Harry and Louis stared at each other. They had the story now. After all this time, they finally knew.

"I didn't press charges because there were four people involved, and I didn't want to go to the hassle of finding and taking four people to court. Subpoenas and all that. And the saddle had probably already been sold within days. I don't want the money for the saddle anyway. I just wanted the saddle back. You see, it was my wife's saddle. She'd admired it and I'd bought it for her five years ago. She died of a severe asthma attack shortly after I gave it to her. I'd kept it in perfect condition, and it still looked brand new when it was stolen. So . . . sentimental value," explained Mr. Hoffman.

There could have been unshed tears in the man's eyes because they glittered as if it was so. Harry instantly felt miserable for Mr. Hoffman. He wished fervently that he could get the saddle back for him. Something like that should not have happened to such a noble, honorable man.

"I hired six new ranch hands. You can see them here and there on the property," he waved his arm in the general direction of the pastures, and Harry and Louis could see distant figures out there doing chores.

"When and how was the saddle stolen, if you don't mind?" asked Harry.

"It was stolen right out of my house," replied Mr. Hoffman. "That's how I know it wasn't a thief passing through. There were no signs of a forced entry. It had to be someone on the ranch. I'd had it showcased really nice in a spare bedroom, and one morning I got up and it was just . . . gone." His eyes were far away, his grief apparent.

"Do you remember working here, Louis?" asked Mr. Hoffman.

"It's funny, but the more I sit here and look 'round, the more I remember. I do remember you, but I didn't recognize Brian and Nathan when they showed up at Harry's ranch. I don't remember the third one you mentioned either. But, at the rate I'm goin,' I'll remember everythin' before too long."

"Um . . ." Mr. Hoffman looked Louis in the face, his gaze undeviating. "Wish I hadn't fired you, and I'm sorry I did. But I suppose you're happy where you are now – "Next he looked at Harry. "Not trying to steal your employee or anything, but if you don't have the need for permanent help, the job here is always open to Louis." His gaze went back to Louis.

There was a silence of about one second.

"Thank you, Mr. Hoffman, but I'm very happy where I am now. That is, if Harry wants me on permanently," he shifted his eyes to Harry, even though he already knew the answer.

"And I absolutely want you permanently," Harry said, apparently not caring that the sentence could be taken more than one way.

Either Mr. Hoffman didn't catch it, or he chose not to acknowledge it.

"Fair enough," he said. "Louis, I'll take you to your belongings that you left behind." Mr. Hoffman opened the front door to his house wide, inviting them in with a sweep of his hand. It was pretty clear he was no longer suspicious of them or hesitant to welcome them into his home.

The room he took them to held cardboard boxes of clothes and miscellaneous items in a closet. There were only three large boxes marked with Louis' name, and Harry and Louis lifted them without looking inside, and carried them to the truck.

"Thank you for holdin' on to these for so long," Louis said to the ranch owner.

"Oh, I wouldn't have if I didn't like you," Mr. Hoffman assured him. "And it's a good thing that mare of yours carried you safely the forty miles to Mr. Styles' ranch."

"She really is a kind, gentle animal," agreed Louis. "I reckon she took care of me. By the way, you wouldn't remember her name, would you?"

"Oh, I wouldn't forget it," Mr. Hoffman smiled. "Loretta. You always did like country music, and I guess you named her after Loretta Lynn, though I don't know for sure."

Louis chuckled. "I listen to country sometimes on your Walkman," he said to Harry offhandedly. "Well, she's used to the name Monique now, so I guess I'll just keep it."

Mr. Hoffman laughed. "Yeah, animals adjust, don't they?"

Louis shifted from one foot to the other, and Harry observed that he was anxious. He was wanting to say more. And a minute later, he did.

"Can you . . . can you tell me anythin' about meself?" Louis sounded tentative. "I mean, did I tell you much about me life before I came here?"'

Öh yeah, of course. You didn't tell me a whole lot, but you said you'd been in the foster system in England for as long as you could remember. You'd stayed with many families. That was about it, really. You weren't real free with sharing it. I think it had a negative impact on you, as it would anyone."

Louis and Harry shared a grin. So they'd been right. Harry had guessed it very early on.

"I knew you came to America to get away from all of that the moment you turned eighteen. You'd done lots of yard work, construction and such to earn the money to get here, but I don't know where you stayed before you came here, looking for a job. You were mysterious about that. I trained you from the ground up. Only reason I hired you was because you had a good work ethic and wanted to learn. Oh, how you wanted to learn! Turns out I made a good decision by giving you a chance. I'm only sorry it ended the way it did."

"Well, thank you for tellin' me all that. It helps a lot."

"No problem. You ever have more questions, call me and I'll answer them if I can. But like I said, you were pretty close-mouthed and didn't offer much. I think you were naturally suspicious because of your past, and you didn't really cotton to any of the other hands. Nathan and Brian got rowdy and a little bit obstinate at times, but I thought they'd grow up and straighten out. I guess that was a bad assumption. I'm not saying they stole the saddle, but they were on the rough side."

Ökay, well, I've held you up long enough, Mr. Hoffman. Thanks again."

"Sure wish we could help you find that saddle," Harry said, still feeling sorrow over it.

"I don't reckon I'll find it now, at this late date. You know how they say that the more time goes by, the more likely you won't get it back when referring to stolen items."

Louis looked crestfallen.

"What brand is it?" asked Harry. "I can at least keep an eye out."

"Circle Y Equitation, medium oil. Show saddle of course, so it has silver conchos. A big one across the cantle. Got my initials under the flap, carved deep so they likely couldn't be sanded out. But they're small – so you'd have to look closely for them."

Harry and Louis nodded.

"'Like I said, anything else I can do, any other questions you need answered, just come on over or give me a call," Mr. Hoffman said as they prepared to get into the truck. "Remember that."

Harry handed him his cell phone, and the rancher added his number.

"Can't think of anythin' now, but I'll keep it in mind. And, thank you." Louis felt a wave of sadness at leaving Stockholm Ranch, and Harry could sense as well as see it. As they drove off, waving to Mr. Hoffman, he turned his head to Louis.

"You know . . . you aren't obligated to stay with me . . . if you want your old job back," he stuttered.

"Harry, I'm bein' completely truthful when I say that bein' with you is what I want more than anythin.'"

He wanted to say more, but for now, he kept his mouth zipped.