"What do you make of it?"

Lucas moved his horse's reins from one hand to the other as he studied the mix of tracks in the yard.

"They were smart… looks like almost every man went in a different direction."

"Almost?"

"…The posse's been through here, so it's hard to say, but I think originally there were two sets of two riders."

"Which one do you think was Mark?"

Lucas let out a deep breath, shaking his head. "I don't know. …You've worked with Ryker, what do you think he would do?"

"Ryker likes having leverage, but he usually distances himself so he doesn't lose his bargaining chip if he gets caught."

"Meaning what?"

"A few times I've seen him leave his hostage tied up somewhere, but more often than not, he'll hire a third party to keep him or her. If we were back in Oklahoma I could come up with a few names, but I don't know of any contacts here."

"Well where do you think he's headed?"

"My guess would be Colorado or the panhandle. They're all probably supposed to meet up somewhere, so no matter who we go after, we're going to get answers."

Again, Lucas took to studying the tracks before mounting up again. "These tracks have a smaller stride; the riders weren't going as fast."

"So?"

"As much as Ryker would try to hurry, having Mark with him would slow him down to some degree. We'll follow these tracks."

"What if you're confusing them with the Marshals?"

"Then whoever we do track down better know where my son is."

Despite Sam's attempts to make conversation, the rancher remained quiet as they rode. It was almost noon when the two came across an abandoned camp. Lucas dismounted and examined the area, relieved to find boot prints similar to Mark's size. He looked up at Sam, confused to see hesitation on the man's face.

"What is it?"

"…There wasn't much of a moon, but still… I don't understand why Ryker would have made camp so early. …Something went wrong."

"…He could have been shot as he was trying to get away."

"Maybe."

"What aren't you saying?"

"…I just hope everything's alright with the boy."

The men continued on, losing the trail on the outskirts of a small town two hours later. Lucas started towards the sheriff's office, only for Sam to stop him.

"Ryker wouldn't risk going into town unless he was desperate, and he'd stay out of sight as much as possible. I think we ought to find the doctor."

The rancher slowly nodded, turning to ask a man on the street where the doctor was. Following his instructions, Lucas and Sam made their way back to the outer parts of town before locating the office. Just as they began to dismount, Lucas saw a younger, clean-shaven man stepping from the building.

"Are you the doctor?"

"Yes, I am. How can I help you?"

"We're looking for a man and boy who may have come through here in the last two days. The boy-"

"Dislocated shoulder?"

Lucas nodded, desperation in his eyes.

"Came by early yesterday morning… kid had taken a fall and I had to fix his shoulder."

"Do you know where they went?!"

"…I think I saw them ride north out of town… now that I think of it, it's curious… they said they were from Santa Fe… I kinda figured they'd want to be getting home."

"Did they say anything else?"

"No… Mr. Smith just talked about growing up around here and working for the Radfords. They overdue getting somewhere?"

Without answering the question, Lucas mounted up and rode out. Sam turned to the confused doctor as he pulled himself into the saddle. "Your "Mr. Smith" is an outlaw by the name of Jedediah Ryker. He took that boy from his home two days ago after helping a man escape federal custody. How bad was the boy?"

"The man said he had tried setting the shoulder… he hadn't done it right, so I had to put it out of place before setting it again. The boy was in a fair amount of pain, but he'll be alright." The doctor watched as Sam's face filled with regret. "…I said he'd be alright."

"I know… it's just that I was the one who tried setting his shoulder the first time. …Thanks, Doc."

It took longer than Sam had expected for him to catch up with Lucas. He found the rancher dismounting at a fork in the road and asked if he thought he would be able to pick up the trail again.

"I'll find it."

Despite Lucas's answer, several minutes passed without him choosing a path. Sam waited a few more moments before dismounting and apprehensively approaching the man.

"…Why don't we split up? We'd cover more ground that way… maybe save some time."

"Would Ryker stick to trails or go across open country?"

"That I don't know. Ryker never liked riding with others… said it left a trail too easy to follow. He'd always break off and meet up later."

Lucas nodded and turned back to his horse. "You take that trail, I'll take this one. Wait in Raton for a wire; I'll send word when I get to Carizzo."

"…Luke, I'm sorry you two go pulled into this."

The rancher hesitated to mount up, shaking his head before suddenly pulling himself into the saddle. "I agreed to this. I should have known better… I should have realized the danger I was putting Mark in and I should have taken him to stay somewhere else. …You had no choice in the matter. Mark had no choice in the matter. But I did… and I'm the one who decided to put him in danger."

"You had no way of knowing what would happen!"

"But I should have known there would be some kind of trouble… and I should have thought to keep my son away from it."

"You thought you were when you told him to stay at the ranch. Remember what you told me on the way to North Fork? You didn't want him in town because you were afraid the trouble would be there."

"Well it wasn't!"

"And that's not your fault! Ryker's the one who did this. Put your anger where it belongs. It'll eat you alive otherwise."

Lucas studied the man across from him for a long moment. He finally shook his head before urging Razor on. "Wire North Fork to see if there's any news when you get to Raton."

"For having a busted arm, you sure finished that quick."

"It's not the first time I've milked a cow," Mark answered, handing over the pail as they walked inside.

"You live on a farm?"

"What's it to you?"

"Look, kid, we're gonna be stuck together for quite a spell. It never hurt anyone to have a little conversation."

"You're the one who kept me locked up all day."

"I had things to do. And unless you want to go back in there, I suggest you change your tune."

"Now isn't a time to fight." His father's words echoed in the boy's mind, causing him to reevaluate his answers. He sat down at the table, closing his eyes as he pushed away the questions he had about what had happened to Lucas.

"…My pa and I live on a ranch," he quietly stated.

Hansen hesitated, unsure if the boy knew his father had been killed. "…Well now, that wasn't so hard, was it? Cattle or horses?"

"Cattle."

"It's a funny thing… I've known about your pa for years, but never gave any thought to what he did when he wasn't chasing outlaws."

"My pa doesn't chase outlaws! …Anyone he's ever gone after came looking for trouble, first."

"Sore spot, ain't it? Sure it ain't easy, growing up with an old man with a reputation bigger than the territory. Sure your ma's not too fond of all that gunplay, either."

"She's not alive. But if she was, she'd know it wasn't Pa's fault. He never went looking to make a name for himself."

"A man doesn't get a reputation like that by accident."

"I didn't say it was by accident. I said he didn't go looking for it. If you had to choose between getting killed or gaining a reputation, I think you'd choose the latter."

"…That I would. …Still though, never could understand someone like your pa having a family."

"Why would you? You don't know him. You don't know anything about him."

"I've heard the-"

"Stories. Everyone's heard the stories. What most people don't know is the truth."

"And you think you do?" The man laughed as he walked to the window. "You know what he wanted you to know. Nothing more, nothing less. Every father wants his son to think well of him."

"My pa isn't a-"

Mark quieted as the man suddenly pulled his gun from its holster, stepping back from the window as he gestured to the far corner of the room. "You get over there and keep quiet or I'll pull this trigger."

The boy hesitantly did as he was told, listening as a horse came to a stop outside of the cabin. He watched as Hansen stepped to the door and partially opened it, his heart sinking as he recognized Sam's voice.

"I'm looking for a man and a boy who might have come through here recently… boy would be twelve or thirteen and had an injured shoulder."

"…They in some kind of trouble?"

"Have you seen them?"

"Maybe, maybe not. What's your business with them?"

"The boy is the son of a friend of mine; he was taken by an outlaw by the name of Jedediah Ryker."

"…Came through yesterday, told me some sad story about getting lost while hunting… asked for a few supplies. Kid didn't seem like he was in any trouble, aside from that busted arm."

"Knowing Ryker, he probably told the boy he'd blow your head off if he didn't play along. Did he say which way they were headed?"

"I saw 'em ride west."

"West? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, said something about heading to back California. What they were doing clear out here on a hunting trip is beyond me."

"…I'll bet Ryker said that to throw off anyone chasing after him. He's probably headed for Oklahoma Territory."

The man tightened his grip on the door, realizing his mistake. "…I don't know, I don't think he thought I was listening when he said it."

"Not Ryker… if he doesn't want something heard, he doesn't say it."

"The man's long gone by now, I doubt there's any point in chasing after him. He seemed harmless enough… I'm sure he'd eventually let the kid go."

"Harmless? Because of Ryker and his friends, three men died this week. One of those men was a good friend of mine. Ryker may want the boy alive, but the people he's meeting up with don't. I'm not giving them a chance to kill the boy, too."

"Well, best of luck to you. I do hope you find him."

"…Thanks."

The man nodded and shut the door, waiting for Sam to ride off before kicking the table. He looked up, surprised to see tears in the boy's eyes. "What's the matter with you? You should be happy- I just sent him straight after Ryker!"

Mark ignored the man, closing his eyes as he swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to remember his father's final words to him.

"I asked you a question!" Feeling a hand hauling him to his feet, Mark looked up at the man's angry face. "Well?!"

"…My pa… he… I thought…" The boy's voice broke as he tried to go on. "I… I didn't want… want to believe… he can't…"

Mark couldn't say it out loud. Ryker had been right… his pa was dead. Several moments passed before he felt the grip on his arm relax and another hand nudge forward.

"…It's time you turned in for the night. Go on back there now."

Without even thinking, Mark obeyed. He collapsed onto the bunk and buried his head into the pillow as the bedroom door was locked behind him.

"I'll be back tonight."

The echo of Lucas's voice rang in the boy's ears as he felt pressure building in his chest, tears running down his cheeks. He thought back to those long days in Mexico when he thought his father was dead. That same sickening feeling had again settled deep in his stomach, but this time, there would be no relief. This time, he wouldn't look up to see his pa hiding in the shadows. This time, there would be no arms to sink into. This time… this time it wasn't a lie.

The next morning, Mark sat at the table, staring at the bowl of oatmeal in front of him.

"You need to eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"…Look, kid, I know right now you don't-"

"You don't know anything!" Mark's eyes burned with tears as he glared at the man. "My pa had nothing to do with this! They had no reason to kill him! The man Ryker helped escape? He killed two girls in cold blood, and you're helping him get away!"

"…You really think I care?"

Mark stared at the man as he stood, taking his own bowl to the counter. The boy's brow furrowed before he suddenly jumped up and started for the front door.

"Get back here!"

Struggling to maintain his balance, Mark ran towards the barn. He had almost made it to the corral when he heard a horse come up behind him and felt a hand grab the collar of his shirt.

"Let go of me! Let me…" The words died on the boy's lips as he looked up to see who held him. "You're… you're supposed to be…"

"Seems neither one of us are where we belong." Reynolds kept a firm grip on Mark as he dismounted. "Hansen, what are you doing with him?"

"Insurance for a friend of mine." The man's voice held an edge as he grabbed the boy's arm and roughly pulled him backwards. "What are you doing here?"

"I got tired of waiting for the governor to decide whether or not he was going to commute my sentence. Figured I'd make things easy on him and ride out of town."

"Well keep on riding. I've got enough trouble on my hands, I don't need you stirring up any more."

"You got a horse I can take? This one's near lame."

"Not unless you have the money to pay for it."

"You know the answer to that."

"Then I suggest you start walking."

"You still owe me for my cut of the Billings job."

"You forfeited your share when you tried to double cross us!"

"Me? Double cross you?" Reynolds laughed. "I overheard you and Thompson talking. If things had gone your way, I'd be dead right now."

"You ever stop to think that the reason you're not dead is because I talked Thompson out of it? And if you had kept that old woman alive instead of shooting her, Thompson wouldn't have had any reason to cut you loose!"

"You knew as well as I did that we couldn't afford having any witnesses. I did what needed to be done."

"You did what you wanted to do. You always do."

"…You know what? You're right… and I'm gonna keep on doing it."

Before Mark could yell out a warning, the man pulled a revolver from inside his jacket and fired.

As Hansen fell to the ground, Mark turned to run, Reynolds grabbing his arm to stop him. "Sorry, kid, but it looks like you and me are gonna be taking another ride together."

Again, Mark tried getting out of the man's grasp, only for Reynolds to pull back the hammer of his gun. "I think you know me well enough by now to know that I'll use this if I have to. I'd really rather not, but I will."

Mark looked at the man for a long moment before relaxing his stance.

"Good. Sit down there by the corral… I don't want you getting into any trouble while I get the horses."

Deciding to keep Mark's arm in the sling, Reynolds tied the boy's frame to the fence post before binding his ankles. "What'd you do to your arm?"

Mark didn't answer. A few moments passed before Reynolds took a step back, staring down at the boy.

"I'm only doing this for your own good. I wouldn't have needed to tie you up if you hadn't proved yourself to be so much trouble last time. Now, it's a long ways to the border, so I suggest you don't try getting smart with me and answer when I ask you something."

"…Dislocated my shoulder a few days ago."

Reynolds climbed over the corral fence before grabbing a saddle and starting towards one of the horses. "And how'd you get mixed up with Hansen?"

"…My pa was supposed to help protect a witness. Some men came to our ranch and tried to get him to change his story… when he didn't, one of the men brought me here. Hansen was supposed to let me go in a few days if nothing happened."

"How far behind do you figure your old man is?"

"…They killed him."

Reynolds briefly hesitated before asking about Marshal Torrence. "…You figure he's headed this way?"

"…I'm sure someone is… there were supposed to be plenty of lawmen at that trial."

"Guess it's a good thing we're headed north, then."

"North? I thought you said-"

"I told you, it's a long way to the border."

Creases formed on the boy's forehead as he realized which border Reynolds was referring to. His mind reeled as he tried to come up with a way to convince the man to let him go, but instead found himself coming to the realization that it didn't matter. Let him go? Just where was he supposed to go? All that waited for him in North Fork was his father's grave.

"…And then maybe after that, we can part ways. I doubt they'd chase us all the way to Montana."

Mark looked up to realize that Reynolds had been talking to him, but couldn't recall what had been said.

"Sorry to drag you along with me, but I'm not too partial to being hung."

"…My pa was just in Santa Fe, talking to the governor again. You should have stayed there. …He would have asked the governor to do what was fair."

"Like I said, I'm not too partial to being hung."