Early the next morning, Lucas found himself waiting in the governor's office. Nearly twenty minutes had passed before the door opened and the rancher stood to greet the man.

"Mr. McCain, I do apologize for keeping you waiting. There was trouble with getting a certain young Sheldon off to school."

Lucas tried to suppress his smile, knowing the father's frustrations all too well. "If I were home and not here, I'm sure I would have found myself in a very similar situation this morning."

"Please, take a seat," the governor invited as he sat down at his desk. "How is your son… Mark, isn't it? I'm sure he's still shaken up quite a bit after being taken hostage, even with his feelings about Reynolds."

The man's statement gave Lucas pause. He had been so upset over Mark's behavior, he hadn't talked to his son about what happened when Reynolds took him. "…I think he's been too concerned about what would happen to Reynolds to really give it much thought."

Governor Sheldon nodded. "Mr. McCain, to be frank with you, I don't understand your son's defense of Reynolds, even if the man did save his life. But what I understand even less is why you didn't say anything last time you were here. I could tell there was a great deal on your mind, yet you allowed your son and the marshal to do the talking. Why?"

"…My son felt he had a debt to repay. The way he went about it the first time was wrong, and I'm still trying to understand why he did what he did. But the opportunity arose for him to go about it the right way, and I didn't want to take that away from him. This was his matter to discuss with you, regardless of how I felt. Micah presented the facts to you well enough without my interference."

"…So you don't want his sentence commuted?"

"I want to see justice done. A judge and jury said that means a hanging. If Reynolds is a threat to other prisoners or guards, I understand why a hanging would be necessary."

"You spent a fair amount of time with the man… how much of a threat would you consider him?"

Lucas studied the governor, unsure of why he was being asked the question.

"Your son quite obviously feels some sort of an attachment to the man that led him to quite a lapse of judgment. I heard your boy through, but I don't take him to be the best judge of character. If you, as the boy's father, can say the same things, I might be more inclined to lessen the sentence."

"…Much to my son's dismay, I can't. I'll give him that Reynolds was going to leave Mark tied up so we could find him, but had the circumstances been different when we came across them, I don't think Reynolds would have hesitated to shoot any of us."

"Three years ago, would you have said the same thing?"

"Three years ago, I didn't know who Reynolds was. All I was told was that a stranger by that name had saved my boy's life… left town before I even knew Mark had been hurt. I couldn't put a face to the name until six weeks ago."

"I take it you don't feel any duty to Reynolds, then?"

"He saved Mark's life, then took him hostage and shot a friend of mine. I'd say the score is even."

"So, had you not stopped to camp that night, you would have also asked for a commuted sentence?"

"Had we not stopped to camp that night, Reynolds wouldn't have had a chance to show his true colors."

"The question is, are they really all that true." The governor let out a heavy sigh, opening the drawer of his desk and retrieving two envelopes. "Do you know why Reynolds was sentenced to hang?"

"All Micah knew was that he had been convicted of murder."

"After your last visit, I did some digging. This letter contains the testimony of a man who saw his nine-year-old son shot four years ago during a bank robbery. My aid says Reynolds claims he was pushed from behind and fired by accident. This other letter states that Reynolds tried to stop the boy's bleeding, but injured a clerk when he tried to go for the doctor. Your son told me this same man stopped to save his life three years ago, then again even after taking him hostage. You say he shot your friend and wouldn't have thought twice about killing the three of you. …Mr. McCain, I don't argue that Reynolds has it in him to kill. He's been found guilty of killing once already. My question is, is there enough good in him that there's a chance he could change? …I'm not sure I can make that determination."

"I certainly don't envy your position, having to weigh a man's life against the possibility that he may or may not try to kill again."

"In your eyes, which way does the balance tip?"

"I don't think Reynolds will ever change. If he saw an opportunity, I believe he would take it. …But if the prison does its job… that opportunity will never come."

"I appreciate your time, Mr. McCain, and your insights. I will reach a decision soon. …I do hold concern for your son… I hope he comes to see that crimes must be punished."

"He understands that, sir, and I've given him many long lectures since the incident with Reynolds. I'll be the first to admit that Mark was wrong, but I also know Reynolds took advantage of an impressionable boy who felt indebted to him."

The governor nodded, standing from his desk. "He seems like a good boy; they all just need a little straightening out once in a while. Thank you again for coming, Mr. McCain. I do hope that if we meet again, it will be under much better circumstances."

Friday morning, Micah was putting on a pot of coffee when he heard the office door open behind him. He turned around, surprised to see Mark.

"Little early for you to be headed to school, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir… I wondered if I could talk to you for a minute?"

"Something wrong?"

"No, I… I just figured it was about time I gave you an apology."

"Apology?"

"…I've been doing a lot of thinking on what happened with Mr. Reynolds, and I've come to realize that what I did could have gotten you into big trouble with the marshal in Denver… not to mention all the time you had to spend tracking him down again. I should have called for you and Pa, and I'm sorry I didn't."

"I accept your apology, but Reynolds was still my responsibility. I shouldn't have been so careless with the key."

"It wouldn't have mattered if I had called out."

"Maybe, maybe not. I don't think Reynolds would have hesitated to do something to you if you had started calling for help."

Mark hesitated to respond, still struggling with his feelings about the man. "…Either way, I know I was wrong, and I am truly sorry. I know we have laws and courts for a reason, and I shouldn't have interfered. I… I know it's no excuse, but it just made me sick thinking about him being hung."

"…Not to add insult to injury, but did it make you feel any better seeing him shoot Mr. Merrar?"

"No, sir… but I didn't think he was the kind of person who would do something like that. And Pa…" The boy quieted, realizing he still wasn't sure how to talk about it.

"What about your pa?"

"…I'm still confused about that part."

"Just know that while he's upset, he still loves you," Micah assured, not realizing there was more behind the boy's statement.

"I… I know, but-"

The office door again opened, causing Micah and Mark to look up.

"Mr. Drake, I'm assuming you're here to see your client?"

"If he's awake."

"He's awake. Mark, I'll be right back."

"That's alright, I better get on to school. …Thanks for understanding, Micah… again, I'm sorry."

The marshal nodded. "Oh, and your father wired yesterday, I wouldn't expect him until tomorrow."

"Thanks. I'll see you later."

That afternoon, Mark was following the other students out the schoolhouse doors when he heard the teacher call his name. He stopped and turned around, then walked towards her desk.

"Yes, Miss Pritchard?"

"You seemed distracted today; is everything alright?"

"I'm sorry… I'll do better."

"Your participation was fine, but you still seemed… distant. Is something bothering you?"

"…There's just something I'm having a hard time understanding."

"What is it?"

Mark glanced towards the door before again looking at his teacher. "…Can something be wrong for one person to do, but right for someone else?"

"I'm afraid I would need an example to better understand the question."

The boy thought for a long moment, trying to find the right words. "…I'm sorry, Miss Pritchard, but I just don't know how to explain it… and I don't know if I should really say exactly what it is I'm thinking."

The woman slowly nodded, giving a gentle smile. "That's alright. Sounds like a good question for your pa. If there's any way I can help, I want you to let me know. I'll see you on Monday."

"…Yes ma'am." Mark hurried out the door before mounting up on BlueBoy and starting towards the ranch.

As he rode, Mark struggled with his thoughts. He had hoped that he would come to a different conclusion before his father returned, but the same questions still tugged at him. Part of Mark wished he could forget the whole thing, and yet he knew he needed answers as much as Lucas would demand them.

Having taken a long detour through the countryside, it was nearly sunset before Mark came to the last rise before the homestead. He brought BlueBoy to a stop, confused by the sight of horses in the yard.

"Pa can't be home yet," he thought. "I'm not ready for him to be home yet."

The boy apprehensively urged his horse forward, burying the emotions he felt rising up inside of him. He realized that sooner or later, he would have to come out and talk about it… he was just scared of what his pa's reaction would be. But as Mark crossed the bridge, all thoughts of the inevitable conversation disappeared. More than two horses stood in the yard, and none of them belonged to his father.

Mark watched as four men stepped from the cabin, only waiting long enough to take notice of their gunbelts before turning BlueBoy around and kicking him into a gallop. He could hear them riding after him and briefly looked back, then returned his attention to the path ahead to see two more riders coming towards him. The boy veered east, again kicking his horse as he pressed himself closer to the animal's frame.

After a half hour of hard riding, Mark couldn't see the men behind him, but still heard their voices in the distance. He brought BlueBoy to a stop and dismounted, realizing his best chance was to hide up in the rocks. Mark took a moment to catch his breath and then sent his horse off, hoping he would create a diversion.

Using the little bit of light left and his memory of the area, Mark started up the canyon wall towards a cave. He struggled towards his destination, missteps and loose rocks causing him to lose ground on several occasions. He was relieved to finally take hold of the lip of the cave entrance, only to hear a man call out below him.

"Up there!"

A bullet ricocheted off the rocks above Mark, forcing him into the cave and onto the hard ground.

"Carter, I want him alive!" a second voice boomed.

"Well how else are we supposed to get him down here?! I'm not going to break my neck trying to find a way up there, it's too dark!"

"You and Morrison stay here and wait until he comes out or there's enough light for you to climb up. The rest of us need to get back to the cabin. Morrison, make sure he doesn't get trigger happy; I don't want the law chasing us after this whole thing is over."

Mark's heart was still pounding as the men mounted up and rode out. He rolled onto his back, suddenly noticing the cuts and bruises he had sustained during his climb. The boy let out a deep breath, listening closely as the men set up camp on the canyon floor below.

"I told you we weren't trailing him close enough."

"Shut up," Carter snapped. "He would have noticed if we rode any closer. Our job was to make sure he got to the ranch and that no one else followed him. Ryker should have known better than to leave all the horses in the yard; it was a dead give away."

"They had to clear the whole ranch, I doubt they thought they'd be getting back before the boy did. Kid took us in circles, he should have gotten home a long time before he did."

"Still shouldn't have left them sitting."

A few moments passed before Morrison changed the subject. "Well there's no point in both of us sitting up all night. You want first or second watch?"

"Second. After Gibsie…"

"Don't you go bringing that up again; Sullivan said it wasn't my fault!"

"Wake me if you get tired."

As the moon continued to rise and the temperature kept falling, Mark could feel a chill settling in his bones. Every few hours, the boy would crawl to the entrance of the cave in hopes that the men had both fallen asleep, but would always see one of them sitting up at the campfire.

Just before dawn, Mark looked out to see storm clouds in the distance. While he was thankful for the darkness they continued to provide, he still didn't know what he was going to do when sunlight finally broke through.

Three hours passed before the rain had come and gone. Beginning to see hints of sunlight in the distance, Mark knew he needed to move before the men came after him.

"Carter!"

The man looked up to see a shadow emerge from the cave and begin an upward climb. "Fool kid, he's gonna fall and break his neck!"

Hearing Morrison and Carter start their way up the incline, Mark quickened his pace, causing him to misjudge the distance to the next branch. He slid a few feet before catching a tree root, sending a sharp pain through his shoulder. Unable to maintain his grip, Mark brought his left hand up to grab another branch as his right shoulder gave out. The boy struggled to hold himself in place as he looked back down at the approaching men. Noticing the rocks at his feet, Mark kicked them loose, sending them cascading towards his pursuers.

Morrison let out a loud yelp as a rock struck his hand. He began climbing faster, angrily yelling threats at the boy as he gained ground. Mark tried to again pull himself upward, only to find himself slipping farther down the face of the canyon wall. Just as he caught hold of another rock, Mark felt something catch his leg and glanced down to see a lariat tightening around his ankle. He looked beyond his leg to see Morrison standing on the cave's ledge, holding the other end of the rope.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way," he called. "Either you slide on back down here, or I yank you down and hope you don't break your neck in the process. Your choice."

Mark looked to the top of the canyon, then back down at Morrison and Carter before hesitantly nodding. He slowly started back towards the cave, landing with a thud when Morrison pulled him the last few feet.

"That's for crushing my hand." The man bent down and removed the lariat before ordering the boy to follow Carter down the rest of the incline. "And no funny business. You've wasted enough of our time."

Mark struggled to follow the pace Carter set, frequently falling as Morrison pushed him from behind. He repeatedly asked what they wanted with him, but was only answered by commands to keep quiet and keep moving.

Once they reached the bottom of the ravine, Morrison tied the boy's hands behind his back and pushed him to sit down. "Stay put or I'll forget Ryker wants you alive."

As the men started to pack up, Carter asked how far out he thought they were from the ranch.

"Hour or two at least." Hearing another roll of thunder, he went on, "Longer if it starts raining on us again."

Mark thought long and hard before letting a small grin fall on his lips.

"Boy, what are you laughing at?" Morrison demanded.

He quickly lost his smile, shaking his head. "N-Nothing… nothing!"

Morrison strode towards him, grabbing the boy's shirt in a fist and lifting him from the ground. "Don't you get smart with me! What's so funny?!"

"I… I…" Morrison was preparing to slap the boy when Mark blurted out, "I know a faster way home!"

Morrison hesitated his motion, but kept his hand raised. "What are you talking about?"

"I… I took the long way around to get in here, I was hoping you'd lose my trail." He nodded south before going on, "If we go that way, the canyon lets out about ten minutes from the cabin."

The man threw Mark back to the ground, sending another shock of pain through his shoulder. "Don't you try getting smug with me again."

The men finished packing up, Morrison pushing Mark into a saddle before Carter mounted up behind him. They rode south, fifteen minutes passing before a gentle rain again began to fall. Little else broke the morning silence until the three rounded one last corner, revealing a dead end.

"Why, you…!" Morrison jumped down from his horse and charged Mark, pulling him from the saddle.

The boy's shoulder caught the majority of his fall, causing a cry of pain to escape him. Morrison proceeded to yank Mark to his feet before driving his fist into the boy's sternum. Mark stumbled backwards, his bound hands being crushed underneath his weight. He looked up, gasping to catch his breath as the man pulled a gun.

"Morrison, Ryker wants the boy alive!"

"Oh he'll get him alive," he growled. Morrison turned the gun around, bringing the handle down across one side of Mark's face before beating it across the other.