April 17th

Peter jogged into town the following morning. He'd spoken with Carol the night before and she'd had little clue as to who would want to sabotage her. There was no competition, no enemies that she knew of, no one that could in her estimation ever want to sabotage her stables. Peter wasn't sure if that meant she was a Pollyanna personality type, or if whoever was doing this was just very good at hiding their contempt.

He wouldn't have anything to go on until his father tested the feed and could tell him what was being used. He planned to get a feel for the town, maybe use a few dollars of the cash Paul had set up for him to pick up a pair of work boots and gloves. Give people a chance to ask him questions. People in small towns always wanted to interrogate the newcomers and the fact that he was there would spread like wildfire. If someone was looking to create problems for Carol and her daughter they'd want to talk to the new guy and figure out if he could be used.

Technically that went against the purpose of his being on this trek in the first place. He didn't think for a moment that word could get back to Miranda about him being in this town of all places. He couldn't let himself get paranoid about every little town they came across. Blaylock could barely be called a town. The post office was attached to the sheriff's office and the school was a single building housing K 12. There were two restaurants in town. One was a mom-and-pop diner, and the other was a burger joint attached to the grocery store. The feed and seed store was owned by the same people who owned the lumber and hardware store. There was a craft store, that from the storefront window catered mostly to quilters and knitters.

He slowed to a walk as he got to the hardware store. Once inside he went in search of the work gloves first. He chose two pairs that would fit better than the borrowed gloves he'd used the day before. He found the work boots not far away.

"Can I help you?" asked a sales clerk as they approached.

"Ahm, yeah, I'm looking for a good pair of work boots. Something that won't tear my feet up while I'm breaking them in." He said with a smile.

"Sure. Let's see what we can do. What size do you wear?"

"12," Peter said.

The clerk began to look through various boxes. "These are pretty popular." He said pulling down a pair of size 12 boots.

"Popular because people have to keep buying them or popular because they last?" Peter asked.

"Popular because they're comfortable." He said and laughed. "So I've never seen you in here before. When did you get into town?"

"Night before last," Peter said and sat down on the bench to try on the boots.

"There are only a couple of places you could be staying then. The Randall place, or the Samuels place."

"Carol Randall offered me a job." He said, "Until I move on."

"She's a nice lady. She does pick up strays though. No offense."

"None taken. The shoe fits" He said with a shrug " … and so does the boot ."

"Good. You're going to want to get some thick socks to wear with these. So do you have experience with horses?"

"Not at all," Peter said. "But I can muck stalls and chop firewood without knowing my way around the horses themselves." He put his running shoe back on.

"Fair enough. You're going to want to condition those boots too." He said and handed Peter the product he recommended. "That and the thick socks will help keep the blisters down until they are fully broken in."

"Okay. I'm Peter by the way."

"I'm Kevin." He told him and lead the way back to the cash register. "How long do you think you'll be in town?"

"Not sure. I never know how long I'm staying anywhere." He said. He paid the bill and started to walk away "Oh, by the way, that diner in town, is it any good?"

"Sure. Breakfast is the best time to go. Just don't order the biscuits and gravy. The gravy is like eating a salt lick."

Peter laughed.

"The pancakes are killer though."

"Good to know." He said. "Thanks."

He walked down the street to the diner. The sign said to seat yourself so he chose a booth not far from the front door. Not that he was expecting trouble. It was more that he wanted to be visible. If someone was intentionally making Carol's animals sick, they'd want to make contact with someone who was on site. If for no other reason than to get a feel for how their little campaign was going.

A pretty waitress whose name tag read Sally approached with a menu and a pot of coffee.

"That coffee smells good," Peter said and turned over the coffee cup that was on the table.

"Want me to leave room for creamer?" She asked

"No, black is perfect." He said. "Thank you." As much coffee as he used to put away at the station if he'd taken cream or sugar in it he'd weigh as much as one of those horses.

She filled the cup and put the menu on the table "I'll give you a few minutes with the menu."

Caine ground the horses' oats with the mortar and pestle until it was a fine powder. He breathed deeply but smelled nothing more than oats. He touched his finger to the powdered oats and then tasted them. He tasted nothing but oats.

Much of what he did was a simple matter of chemistry and knowing how to use natural sources for the chemicals he needed. So he divided the powder into several glasses and then added herbs from his pouch and hot water. Nothing produced a reaction.

"It is not the oats." He said, frowning.

"Then it must be in the hay." She said.

He nodded and cleaned up after the experiments. "Unless there is someone who comes to visit the horses."

"Usually it's the owners that come to visit them or take them for a ride. Trish and I only own 4 of the horses. The rest are boarded and I can't imagine any of them making the horses sick. Horses are expensive. You don't have one if you don't love the animals."

Caine nodded, but he didn't agree. He had met people that did not love anything. Not even themselves but they had spouses and children and pets. Their qi was so broken that there was nothing left inside but hunger. Sometimes for money, sometimes for drugs or sex, or adrenaline. Sometimes for far worse things. Carol was a genuinely good person, but she was also naive.

"So where is Peter this morning." She said.

"He went to town to get things he needed. " He laughed quietly, "and I suspect to spend time away from me."

"Surely not that." She said.

"He has always valued his privacy and his… alone time," Caine said with a shrug. "There is no privacy with the way we travel." He loved this time with his son. He could wish that it was for a different reason, but he did not dwell on such thoughts. Wishing things to be different was the thief of joy and lead to despair.

"Well, He is a hard worker, I will give him that. I was impressed with what he did yesterday. I could use about four of him around here."

Caine smiled. "In the temple, he was taught the value of hard work." He laughed a little "Or at least how to trudge through what needed to be done. Young boys do not understand that particular lesson until they are grown."

"You smile and laugh when you speak of him. That is good to see." Carol said. "Last time you were here you couldn't even speak his name without there being tears in your voice."

"He is a treasure that the universe has given me. I foolishly took that for granted twice and nearly lost him forever both times. I will not do so a third time." Peter's destiny was great. He was far more capable and important than he could ever realize and Caine had been entrusted with protecting, nurturing, and training him. It wasn't until the Harbingers had taken him that he realized just how important Peter Caine truly was, and how much more powerful he would become once he accepted his destiny. The son would outshine the father when he had learned all that he could learn. That was how it should be. Caine was proud of the man his son had become, and he was in some ways in awe of the man he would become. Above all though, he loved his son with everything he had in him.

"He loves you too, you know." She said, "Very much. You can see it in his eyes when he looks at you. I think he still has that little boy's father worship too. That is something I envy very much. Sometimes I think Trish resents me or at the very least thinks I'm a foolish old woman."

"Patricia loves you." He said.

"I know. But love doesn't mean the other two things are impossible."

"When Peter and I first reunited he did not have the same respect that you see now. There was respect, but there was also disrespect. Because even though he remembered the precepts of our beliefs he had come to believe that the more esoteric things were myths and thought me foolish to believe in them."

"I dare say that has changed."

Caine nodded. "Through lessons and battles that were hard won." He said as they moved to the stables.

Paul and Kermit had failed to have an evening free of shop talk. But what did old mercenaries have to talk about anyway? They had gone over the background checks on those applying to transfer into the 101st. They had to replace Jordan as well as Peter. Both were temporary as far as Blaisdell was concerned. But he needed to keep up appearances. So he had chosen two out of the three applicants. Wesley Marshal and Thom Wallace. Marshal was from out of town, New York City to be exact. Wallace was transferring in from Vice. He was partnering them together.

He had shuffled things when Peter left to have Skalany and Powell working together and he liked the way they worked together. He had them still investigating the murder of the deputy mayor and he didn't want an outsider on that case. It was connected to the snake cult. He was certain of it. Miranda had one of her goon squad kill Cavanaugh and frame Conlin. He wasn't certain why, however. She didn't need to get rid of any of her competition with her campaign of good deeds and preparedness. Was it more a moment of convenience with the murder having more to do with Cavanaugh? Something to discuss with Skalany and Powell.

There was a rap at his office door. "Come in."

A man poked his head in "Shall I tidy your office, sir."

Paul leaned back in his chair. "That would be fine." He said "Are you new? I don't remember seeing you here before."

"I usually work upstairs, Captain. Everyone's a bit short-handed at the moment. Spring colds going around and all that. I'm Kevin Todd." He said. "I'll probably only be here through the week."

Paul got up and pulled on his jacket. "Well, welcome, for however long you are here, Mr. Todd."

"Thank you, Sir." He said.

Paul locked his desk drawers as he always did when he left his office and strode across the way to Strenlich's office. He poked his head in "I'm going to be out of the office for a while."

"Alright, I'll keep the kids in line while you're out. When do the new guys start?" He asked.

"Tomorrow. We're keeping an eye on them for the time being." Paul said.

Frank nodded "Good idea." He too was wary of anyone transferring in. "Be careful out there."

Paul chuckled. "Be careful in here."

Peter finished up his breakfast. He had lingered over the pancakes and bacon and coffee. He'd missed bacon and coffee. The funny thing was it hadn't been that long since he'd last had them. Two weeks since he'd last been served breakfast in the penthouse of the Gray industries tower. He couldn't believe it had only been that long. It felt like an eternity had passed. Except when it felt like yesterday.

He looked up as the restaurant door opened for the fourteenth time since he'd sat down for breakfast. A man roughly his age entered and after a moment's hesitation approached Peter's table. "You must be Peter Caine." He said.

Peter raised an eyebrow. "I don't remember giving my last name to anyone in town."

"Huh?" He asked "Oh! I'm a friend of Trish's." He offered his hand. "I'm Henry Allen."

Peter took his hand and shook it. "Have a seat." He said. "So are you and Trish seeing each other?" Well, that complicated his plan a bit.

"Sometimes." Henry said "Currently just friends."

Peter laughed a little "I know what that's like." With every woman he had ever dated, to be honest. Nice to know he wasn't the only one. "Sometimes I manage the just friends part in between the offs and ons."

"We don't always manage that either."

Sally came over and put a menu down in front of Henry. "How ya doing this morning."

"No need for the menu, Sally. I'll have the usual." Henry said handing it back when she'd finished writing down his order. "Could you make it to go?" He asked and she nodded.

She put Peter's ticket on the table in front of him. She picked up his dishes. "I'll ring you up when you're ready."

"Thank you." He said and smiled at her. After she walked away he turned his attention back to Henry. "It's a shame about Carol's horses."

"None of them died have they?" Henry asked.

Peter shook his head "No, but they are having issues. My father thinks that it's a plant they are getting into." It was a lie but it let the conversation continue without open accusation. Whoever had been making the horses sick had to be close enough to allow them easy access to the horses. If someone was trying to ruin Carol why not kill the horses? This might be something as simple as a man lashing out at a former lover.

"Oh man, that will be hard to weed out." He said and winced. "Sorry about the unintentional pun."

"Trust me, I've heard worse," Peter said with a grin. "Might explain the off-and-on nature of it too. But I guess my father and I are sticking around until it's sorted out." He thought he saw the slightest change in Henry's expression. Nothing dramatic, nothing overt, just a shift in the eyes, a tightening of the smile. "Well, I should get going. It's a long walk back."

"You walked into town?"

"Well, I ran actually, but that's harder to do while carrying my shopping." He said.

"Hang around and I'll give you a lift back. I was gonna go see Trish anyway."

"That would be great," Peter said.

Paul didn't look over his shoulder to get a look at the man who was following him. He didn't have to in order to know he was there. The police captain's past read like something written by Lee Child, Tom Clancy, and Joseph Wambaugh on a wild weekend in Vegas and he had not let any of his skills go.

He continued walking to a safe house that he was 'borrowing' for the time being. He had called in a few favors with some 'old friends' and there was a young man, roughly 6'2 with brown hair that could almost be seen as he walked around the house. Up close he looked nothing like Peter, but from a distance, seen only through the curtains of the safe house was convincing enough.

Paul rapped on the door and was let inside. "Any activity out there?" He asked.

"Not yet." Russel Cage said. He was the stand-in for Peter. They looked enough alike they could pass for brothers, but not enough alike that he'd fool anyone that got a closer look. "Early days though. Kermit said we'd be sitting here for a while."

"It also might not work, " Paul said. "Right now I'm grasping at straws."

Max Larkin nodded "Well we've played longer shots than this, Blaisdell. We just gotta bide our time."

Paul nodded. "There are a few people I'm going to send around from time to time. Just in case I'm not the one they're keeping an eye on. His partner, and don't laugh, a Shaolin priest or two."

"Did you seriously just say a Shaolin Priest? You can't be serious." Cage asked, failing not to laugh.

"They're capable. They're also the ones that rescued my son in the first place so a little respect goes a long way. They've earned it."

"If you say so, Boss," Larkin said. "We'll behave. Just make sure they know the right things to say. We wouldn't want to let the wrong ones in."

"Yes, I'll make sure." He said with a nod. "Be careful of anyone that comes by. I don't care if it's the mailman. These cultists have infiltrated all aspects of life. If they knock at the door, you get out of sight, Russell."

"Not my first rodeo, Paul."

"Except this isn't your average rodeo." He said. "This rodeo is overrun with snakes, mysticism, and brainwashing. They use snake venom as an assassination tool, and they possess levels of martial arts I have never heard of before much less have seen. So it's not me discounting your skills when I say be careful."

"I'll be careful." Cage said.