"Knowing Mark, I'm sure he has coffee waiting for us," Lucas stated as he brought Razor to a stop. "You go ahead, I'll take care of the horses."

Before either man could dismount, the cabin door opened. Expecting to see his son, Lucas looked up, only to find two guns pointed at him.

"Don't try anything," the older of the two men ordered. "You're covered from behind, too."

Lucas slowly looked back to see two more men approaching them.

"Nice and slow, step down from the horses. Mr. McCain, keep your hands away from the rifle."

Lucas and Sam complied as they took in the situation. The rancher looked past the men and into the house, trying to determine where his son was.

"I should have known you'd show up."

Lucas looked to Sam in confusion. "…Friends of yours?"

"Friends of Sullivan's," he answered.

"Inside, both of you."

The two men apprehensively walked up the porch steps and into the house, where they were ordered to sit down, hands flat on the table.

"Look, Jed, the McCains have nothing to do with this; leave them out of it."

"If you didn't want anyone else involved, you should have heeded our warnings before."

"Before?" Lucas asked, looking at Sam.

"I got a few threatening letters while I was in prison. Course, Sullivan never signs his name to anything, so I didn't have any idea who they were from."

"You never were too smart."

"Well, you have me now. If you're gonna shoot me, get it over with."

Lucas continued to look around the cabin, trying to determine whether Mark was there or not; if these men knew he should have been there or not.

"Shoot you?" Ryker laughed. "You should know me better than that. New Mexico has been a good home to us, and we'd like to keep it that way."

"Then what are you here for?"

"Your testimony."

"My what?"

"Your testimony. Monday morning, you're going to go to that trial and tell that jury that it was Charlie Sloan you were working with, and that it was Charlie Sloan you saw murder those two girls."

"And just why would I do a thing like that?"

"Because if Sullivan gets sent to prison, it's just a matter of time before the law comes after the rest of us. And if that happens, I won't care if there are a hundred wanted posters out on me, because I'll be headed down to Mexico. And you, and Mr. McCain, and his son will all be six feet under."

At the mention of Mark, Lucas stood, the cocking of Ryker's revolver stopping him.

"Sit down, Mr. McCain. I need you alive, not uninjured."

"They'll be expecting me at that trial on Monday. I come in with a bullet wound, folks will ask questions."

"In which case I'd suggest that you spin a mighty fine tale, because if anyone shows up here that isn't supposed to, your son will be the next person to be introduced to my gun."

Still glaring at the man, Lucas slowly sat down again. "Where is he?"

"Don't worry, he'll be joining us shortly."

Sam watched as the father's eyes hardened, attempting to read the man in front of them. "…Don't try him, Lucas. He's not one to bluff… especially with Sullivan on the line."

"You touch one hair on that boy's head, I swear-"

"Don't worry, Mr. McCain. As long as you and Sam both cooperate, I think we'll all get along just nicely. Benson, go take care of their horses." Ryker holstered his revolver and walked to the stove, the other two men still training their guns on Lucas and Sam. "You two have had a long ride; care for some coffee? …No? Suit yourselves…"

Twenty minutes had passed before Benson returned to the cabin, announcing that Carter and Morrison were riding up. "They got the kid, but he sure doesn't look to be in a good way."

Lucas jumped to his feet and started towards Benson, only to be reminded of the two guns being pointed at him. Ryker gestured to the table, telling Lucas to sit.

"I told you-"

"Mr. McCain, my men had instructions to bring him back alive. An order, I'm sure, they followed. Whatever's been done to the boy will heal in time, and I'll see to it that they do no more harm as long as you do as you're told. But any abrupt actions you make may result in a discharged weapon, so I suggest you don't move from that chair unless I tell you otherwise. Ward, Taylor, keep an eye on them."

Benson followed as Ryker walked outside, reaching the porch steps as Morrison and Carter rode up. Mark sat slumped over in the saddle, only half conscious.

Ryker took the boy's chin in his hand as he looked from one cheek to the other, then looked the rest of him over. "Just what did you do?!"

"Most of it was his own fault, trying to climb farther up the ravine," Carter answered. "Then Morrison did his face in with the gun butt."

"Boy needed to be taught a lesson."

Ryker shook his head. "Nothing to be done about it, now. Morrison, go watch that first fork into town."

"I was out in the canyon all night; why can't-"

"Because if you go in there you'll rile McCain, and I'd like to get through this without having to kill anyone. Get going."

Morrison let out a frustrated sigh before turning his horse around and kicking him into a lope. Ryker reached up to pull the boy from the saddle, calling for Benson to help him.

"…Carter, go ahead and take care of your horse, we'll get him inside."

The man nodded, bringing attention to the boy's shoulder. "I think he dislocated it at some point. You might see if Sam can set it."

When Mark was brought inside, Lucas couldn't stop himself from moving towards his son. His heart dropped at the sight of the bruises, cuts, and displaced shoulder. One of the outlaws started to bring his gun down on the rancher, Ryker stopping him.

"It's alright; let him tend to the boy."

The men set Mark down by the fireplace, Lucas kneeling beside his son as he started to untie the ropes.

"Sam, come take a look at this shoulder," Ryker ordered.

Sam reached down to feel the shoulder, causing Mark to pull away as he moaned in pain.

"It's alright, Son," Lucas assured, carefully cradling his son's head in his lap. "Just hold still."

Recognizing his father's voice, Mark tried to open his eyes. He briefly caught a glimpse of his pa's blurred face before closing them again.

"…Jeb, I think he needs a doctor," Sam stated. "This shoulder is bad off."

"Well it's going to be a few days before he can get one, so do the best you can."

"…Lucas, do you want to hold him still or set it?"

Lucas struggled to answer, not entirely sure how much he could trust Morley's experience, but knowing he would hesitate too much if Mark started crying out. "…Do it quick."

Lucas's chest tightened as his son's scream filled the cabin, the boy's cry being cut short as he lost consciousness. Ryker again stepped forward and offered the father a rag and bowl of water. "…You have any witch hazel?"

Lucas took what the man offered, but turned to Sam without answering the question. "The cabinet closest to the back door, there's a bottle of arnica; get it for me."

As Sam got up, Ryker knelt down, watching Lucas wipe the blood from his son's face. "Mr. McCain, this was not how I intended our relationship to start out, and I am sorry the boy got hurt. But I hope you take note of just how poorly things could turn out should you be less than cooperative."

Lucas looked up at the man, his face holding no expression, his eyes filled with rage. "If you don't get out of town the second that trial ends, I won't give the law a chance to get their hands on you."

"Mark? …Son?"

Mark could hear his pa calling to him, yet wanted nothing more than to return to the darkness. He grimaced as he became more aware of the ache in his shoulder and the stinging of his face. At Lucas's encouragement, the boy slowly opened his eyes, straining to bring his vision into focus.

"…Pa?" Mark tried to turn around, sharply inhaling as his injuries protested.

"Easy…" Lucas slowly helped his son sit up, still supporting the boy as Mark leaned back against him. "How does your shoulder feel?"

"Like I broke it or…" Mark quieted as he looked across the room to see some of the men who had been chasing him the day before. "…Pa, I'm sorry. I tried getting away, but they-"

"This isn't your fault. …Hopefully the pain in your shoulder will go down as the swelling does."

"…What do they want?"

Mark turned as another voice answered him, "I'm afraid they're here for me."

"…Mr. Morley? What… Pa, I thought he was in jail?"

"Turns out Sam here was our witness. …These men want him to change his testimony."

Ryker stood from the table and took a few steps forward, Lucas's eyes warning the man to not come any closer to his son. "Don't worry, boy. The three of you cooperate, we'll be gone in just a few days and this will all be done and over with. Just don't give us any more trouble." Ryker turned to the other men before going on, "Cole, go relieve Morrison and tell him to take watch up on that hill. You see anything at the fork, you signal to him. Ward, keep watch outside with Carter. Benson, see if you can't find something to cook up for all of us."

Lucas watched as the men followed their orders, evaluating each man to determine how much of a threat they posed. His attention was suddenly brought back to Mark, who was attempting to pull away from Lucas and sit up against the wall. He offered a supporting hand, concerned to see the boy wince.

"Careful, Son…" Lucas looked the boy over, trying to keep his temper from showing. "…What happened?"

"…There were too many of them coming at me… I couldn't get through to town. I was going to try to hide in River's Canyon and wait for them to go away, but they caught up to me. I got up to a cave last night, but it was too dark to go any further and they were watching for me. Then the rain this morning made the ravine wall too muddy and I kept slipping."

"…And?" Lucas asked, knowing there was more to the injuries on his son's face.

Mark hesitated, but his pa's eyes demanded answers. "…I gave bad directions… I was hoping that if I had more time, I could figure a way out. One of the men got mad when we hit the end of the canyon."

Father and son looked up as Ryker laughed, shaking his head. "Mr. McCain, you certainly didn't raise him a coward, that's for sure."

Lucas ignored the man as he turned back to his son. "You think you can walk to the bedroom? You need a dry change of clothes."

Mark nodded, accepting his pa's help as he pushed himself to his feet.

"No funny business," Ryker warned. "We already found the spare rifle and a number of knives. You keep that door open."

Lucas and Mark made their way to the bedroom and found it in complete disarray. After finding a clean shirt and pair of trousers, Lucas started to help his son remove his shirt. Mark couldn't help but groan as he moved his arm, a stabbing sensation shooting from his shoulder down towards his hand.

After Mark had changed, Lucas found one of his own shirts and used it for a makeshift sling. As he was tying it in place, he quietly spoke, looking down at his son.

"I don't think I have to tell you this, but now isn't a time to fight. Do what they say."

"…Pa, do you really think they're gonna let us go?"

"I'm sure we'll find a way out of this before they have to make that decision."

Late that evening, Ryker and Benson sat at the kitchen table playing cards while Sam stood at the window, staring out into the yard. Lucas was cleaning up the supper dishes, eyeing Mark as he drifted to sleep in his father's chair. The cabin door suddenly opened, Carter's entrance startling Mark awake.

"Rider's coming; looks like Drake."

"Make sure it's him," Ryker ordered. "And make sure he's alone. Send him in if he is."

As Carter walked back outside, Lucas noticed Mark struggling to find a comfortable position. He put the last dish away, then crossed the cabin floor.

"Does that sling need to be adjusted, Son?"

Mark shook his head as Lucas knelt down beside the chair. "I think moving it would just make it hurt worse."

"Is it any better than before?"

"No, it's the same."

"Mr. McCain, it's getting late. I think it's about time the boy went to bed, don't you?"

Not wanting to, Mark looked up at Lucas, but his pa nodded. The rancher helped his son get settled in the other room, noticing for the first time there was as much exhaustion as there was pain in the boy's eyes.

"Did you get any sleep last night?"

"Not much. …Guess I was too worried about those men finding a way up the ravine." A few moments passed before he went on, "…Pa, if they do something to you-"

"You don't need to worry about that."

"But-"

"Mark, they know I'm expected to be in town for the trial, and they certainly don't want anyone showing up here, looking for me."

"…But what about after the trial?"

"They won't want anyone chasing after them then, either."

"…I could wait a little while, go out the window and-"

"No. There are too many of them keeping watch out there. Even if you could get away from the cabin, the roads are being watched."

"I could cut over to Mr. Jackford's and-"

"No!" Lucas's voice was quiet yet stern as he went on, "For now, Ryker's being reasonable. I don't trust the others to not shoot if they see someone out there. I want your word that you'll stay put tonight."

"Pa…"

"This isn't up for discussion. I want your word."

"…Yes sir."

The rancher nodded, standing to turn down the lamp. "Goodnight, Son."

Upon returning to the front room, Lucas found Sam sitting at the table with Sullivan's lawyer, shaking his head in frustration.

"They're going to rip apart any lies I tell them; they'll discredit me as a witness. I might as well just not testify."

"That's what I'm here for." Drake retrieved a stack of papers from his briefcase and set them in front of Morley. "We're going to build you a story so believable, even the prosecution won't be able to deny it."

Sam thumbed through the papers, again shaking his head. "You expect me to keep all this straight?"

"I expect you want to keep your friends alive," Ryker began, "So I expect you'll find a way to get the jury to believe you."

Sam let out a heavy sigh and returned his attention to the first page of the stack. The men went back and forth all evening, Drake questioning Morley as if he were the prosecutor. It was nearly midnight when the lawyer stood and began collecting his things.

"I'll be back tomorrow night. Ryker, I want him to spend all day tomorrow studying those notes; he needs to know every detail of this story if we want to get Sullivan off."

"I'll see to it. Make sure no one sees you ride back into town, and be doubly sure no one follows you tomorrow."

"I know. Keep your men out of town, too. Don't need them getting drunk and causing trouble."

With a few men still keeping guard outside the cabin, those who remained inside turned in for the night. Lucas laid awake in his bedroll, waiting for the others to fall asleep before whispering to Sam.

"How well do you know Ryker?"

"We worked together for about a year. Like I said, I know he's not one to make idle threats."

"But would he bluff about not killing?"

"You worried he won't want to leave loose ends after the trial?"

"If it was just you, maybe he wouldn't care. The word of a convict is one thing. But if the three of us came forward with what's happening… that would be enough for the law to go after them, even if Sullivan still went free."

"…I don't know. Even for a criminal, Ryker's always been fair in his own way… he doesn't like making a mess of things if it can be avoided. …But if Sullivan gets acquitted… he may have his own ideas about how to handle things."

Lucas let out a heavy sigh as he tried to weigh the possibilities.

"…Are you wanting to try something?"

"…In the morning, before Mark wakes. I don't want to try anything when he could get caught in the middle."