Chapter 63: Syndicate Stand-Off
The six stately Gentlemen making up this executive strong arm of the Cartel were dressed all in black, except, of course, for their crisply tailored white French-cuffed shirts, held together by extravagantly jeweled cuff links.
The men dismounted one by one, dropping like ceremonious dominoes across the front of the Boardwalk, onto the gravelly pavement below them.
They each carefully tied their horses to the railing, taking a moment to look around them.
Then as though in unison, they reached up to shake the cloud of dust from their fashionable Bowler Hats, lifting them off their heads to roughly shake while smoothing their hair with their free hands, then quickly replacing their chapeaux back, quite elegantly, exactly where they rakishly belonged.
Noiselessly, they shook their boot-clad feet in a futile attempt to rid their shiny black leather dress boots of all the dust collected during their long ride from Union City.
"Not perfect, but much better," mused the Boss.
They smoothed the wrinkles from their waistcoats, without them even realizing they were doing it, and then, in unison, straightened their dark elegant cravats made of the finest silk and pinned into place with a variety of perfectly placed antique jeweled stickpins.
And just like that, they were presentable enough to have walked into the ritziest establishment of any major city in Canada!
Well, almost.
But tonight, they were in Hope Valley, with an important, if supposedly rather boring, uneventful, job to do.
It was a testament to their aristocratic upbringing that appearance was even a consideration at all, yet for them, it was a critical part of who this Syndicate was and what they were all about.
They weren't the typical low-life criminal most often seen. This group was different. These Cartel Members were well-bred, highly educated, with very prestigious standards to uphold.
After all, in their daily life, they were esteemed leaders of their communities, holding, or having once held jobs of great importance!
Make no mistake, uphold their precious standards they did, no matter the circumstance!
Even in a 'hole in the wall town' that had blindly allowed them to launder priceless stolen entities through it for almost three full years, now.
Yes, Hope Valley had unwittingly become invaluable to their operation, as had Lucas Bouchard.
There were no worries for tonight.
Except perhaps one.
The Big Boss, meaning Madame Deschenes, was growing suspicious of Bouchard and his allegiance.
She somehow 'felt' his dedication wavering.
And she saw the connection between him and his family as a most unfavorable one, preferring instead to have complete control over all her minions, including Bouchard, without complications.
It rankled her that the complication Monsieur Bouchard brought to the table was one that was even more troubling, as it involved her very own family, albeit by marriage only!
Despite that, Antoinette was precious to her, even though she had, admittedly, not watched over her as closely as she should have.
Truth be known, Antoinette was the only family member she had that didn't judge her.
The Girl just accepted her as she was, and even seemed to look up to her.
But her many minions could handle Bouchard and his complications, quite easily, if need be.
She only had to say the word.
So, no real pressure, at least from the Big Boss's point of view, nor even the Boss's perspective leading this trip.
Just something that needed to be addressed.
But, unknown to the fearless Kingston and his crew, that day of reckoning they had all once considered as a possibility, then later cockily dismissed, was a real and ever-present danger.
And that danger was coming sooner than they could possibly imagine!
Funny thing about pride…as that old biblical saying of Proverbs 16:18 has taught us, standing the test of time.
"Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall." (*47)
Both pride and a haughty spirit were on full display tonight, oozing from this group of six cultured and most confident men, who were more than self-assured they had full rein and were completely in charge over the events about to transpire, on this particular cold wintry night.
Then again, perhaps, everything was just as it should be.
Of course, I suppose that depended on which side of the Law you were on.
The Visitors didn't even notice the eerie calm that enveloped the night.
In spite of the darkness, the bright moonlight streamed down around them, trickling throughout the little town of Hope Valley.
From the time the six had arrived, Billings, their lead point person, was furtively looking around in all directions, including up above them.
But all was well: no people to be seen on the street or on the balcony.
In fact, not much sign of life at all in this pathetic sleepy little town!
"All clear, Boss!" whispered Billings.
"Clear, more like dead!" laughed Stanwyck.
"You're right, Stanwyck! This place is deader than a Ball without the Ladies!"
"Gifford, get your mind off the Ladies! We've got work to do." glowered Kingston, the one in charge. "And I'd like to get it done!"
"Sure don't envy 'Bouch' for having to live in this God-forsaken place, but hey, his loss!" laughed Billings. "Can you imagine finding a Lady here?"
"Don't mock! At least it gets our bills paid!" reminded Reichman.
"Billings, I meant what I said about the Ladies. Focus!" interjected Kingston.
He checked one last thing on the list he pulled from his inner pocket.
"Peugeot, got your story straight?" asked Kingston in a glowering, rather impatient tone.
"Straighter than an arrow. Besides how hard can it be?" smirked Peugeot.
"Harder than you might think. It's a connected suite. Don't wake the Father. He's a big Man. We don't need him messing things up. First and foremost, no harm, and that means not even a bruise to the Girl. That order came straight from Madame D. You capiche?"
"Yes, Boss! Not even a bruise!"
"Are you ready, Men? Let's put a huge dose of fear in Bouchard, set him straight for his new assignments, drop the goods, get this inventory checked, and get out of this forsaken place!"
The Gang, sophisticated as they were, but still a gang, each gave a silent nod, which their Boss acknowledged with a single tilt of his head.
Kingston, then led the way, as Stanwyck and Reichman stepped up to the boardwalk, taking their places beside him.
The three Gentlemen split briefly to enter the double doors of the Saloon, as yes, they were that large and burley, that is if a refined Gentleman can be described as burley. Perhaps broad-shouldered and muscular were more apt words. But very muscular, and extremely physically fit.
Either way each of these strapping, self-assured men carried innate strength and power within them, even without taking into consideration the very expensive weapons that were secured within their fancy holsters strapped surrepticiously under their waistcoats.
More slowly, the second, slightly younger string of three followed not far behind…
Lucas was waiting for them anxiously behind the Bar.
"Gentlemen, welcome! May I offer you some food and drink?" he asked rather formally.
"Bouchard…" greeted Kingston with a stony glare that belied his smile, and for all the pomp and circumstance made Lucas's skin crawl.
"Gustav, please serve my distinguished Guests."
Suddenly Gustav appeared with a tray of the most delectable finger foods, along with two decanters of red wine.
Kingston's sharp eyes circled the Saloon, spotting only two tables taken, one with two men and the other with only one.
But the men were so wasted, they weren't going to be a problem, besides the one was getting up to leave, so drunk, it was questionable if he was going to make it out the Saloon door.
With some swaying from side to side, the young man did finally accomplish his rowdy exit, mumbling and stumbling along the way, finally finding the Saloon entrance, while slamming the doors closed behind him!
Whether he made it to the street or not was anyone's guess.
"Let's make this quick! Sit, Gentlemen. Bouchard, join us," the order was terse, leaving no choice whatsoever.
Lucas led them to the largest table in the place, but Kingston, redirected him as it was too close to the table still occupied.
The Men squeezed into a smaller table, and dove into the food, with Kingston languidly pouring the wine, contradicting his own previous order for speed, as there were a few things in life that a Gentleman simply needed to savour.
Good wine, being one of them.
"A toast, Bouchard! To us and the finer beauties of life that await!"
The men raised their glasses, and clicked them together, in this most unusual gentrified brotherhood, the combined epitome of both class and evil.
"What about the art? Is it all crated and ready?" asked Kingston.
"Yes, and the ones I've seen are real beauties. Everything is done exactly as you requested. They're well protected," smiled Lucas, although nervously.
As his mind wandered, Nathan's words crescendoed through his mind.
'You just can't show that you're nervous. That will be a dead give-away and could cost lives. Both yours and ours…'
'Rein in it, Man! Rein it in…' Lucas told himself as he rubbed his hands along his thighs beneath the table to steady them before he continued. 'Choose bravery…'
"There are several crates I haven't gotten clearance to catalog that you all will have to let me know what to do with. I was instructed to leave them untouched, so that's what I've done."
"Madame D didn't say anything about that," barked Kingston.
"She had an assistant call me. Didn't give me a name, but he said his instructions were directly from her."
"What's the code?" asked Kingston, the only one focused on the conversation as the others were hungrily stuffing their face, a little less mannerly than was usual for them with their genteel food, but then riding a horse from Union City to Hope Valley would make a Man hungry enough to throw some of his gentility and manners to the wind.
"Hey Gustav, got anything more substantial?" yelled Billings.
"Of course, Sir! Beef Pot Pie for all coming right up…"
"The code Lucas!" and the scowl on Kingston's face meant now.
"H3892," he answered crisply. "The same as before."
Kingston nodded warily observing his face.
"And the second code?" asked Kingston imperiously.
Lucas's insides twisted and turned into a turmoil of knots. Was there a second code? And had they purposely kept it from him?
"There was no second code, Sir!" answered Lucas staring straightforwardly into Kingston's eyes, with a confidence he didn't know he had.
Kingston's face first contorted into a grimace that terrified Lucas, but just as quickly, his expression changed into one of discernment.
"Good man!" and then he nodded and smiled as the others laughed.
But Kingston's smile quickly vanished.
"Don't ever play games with me, Bouchard! That's the reason you're dealing with me tonight. Games won't work under any circumstance. You know the rules. Mistakes come at the expense of your life, or of those around you, or both. And I'm the one that sees those orders are carried out. Aside from Madame, you now answer to me."
Panic rose in Lucas's being. Something was up. They were suspicious of him.
Kingston watched the emotional waves Lucas was experiencing, most pleased that he had indeed gotten his point across.
"I'll have Stanwyck and Reichman go through the uncatalogued crates when we finish here. They're the art pros. But first, we meet in your Office, privately."
Of course, it would be Stanwyck and Reichman.
They were also Kingston's right-hand men, who never left his side.
The three of them always worked together, and Stanwyck and Reichman never let Kingston out of their sight. They were the senior team, the ones with the most extensive experience. Although it was always Kingston, who was clearly in charge.
Billings, Gifford, and Peugeot were a bit younger, the team still in training, although Billings had vast experience scouting and was always designated as such, whatever team he happened to be placed with.
This meant Kingston, Stanwyck and Reichman would all three be going outside, sorting through the crates for sure – a point not overlooked by the 'drunk' man who was listening intently from outside the front entrance of The Queen of Hearts…
With that tidbit, a stone-cold sober Matt gingerly made it off the Boardwalk, hurrying toward the back of the Saloon.
"Chief, the three main men will be out here for sure," he whispered.
"What about the junior team?"
"Not sure, Sir. We couldn't hear their discussion outside."
"That's okay, we did. They're going after Antoinette, but they're under strict orders not to hurt her. At least we have that," nodded Nathan.
Earlier, Bill had hidden underneath the Boardwalk, next to the basement of the Saloon, where he had sat stiff as the starched shirt the Gentlemen were wearing and had heard every single word their visitors had said, prior to them entering the Queen of Hearts.
"How are our two Mounties doing inside?"
"Fine, Chief. Our visitors don't have a clue who they are!"
Nathan signaled to the two Sharp-shooters he had stationed on the balcony, who were already in position.
He had cut down from the three he had originally planned to have there, because he needed two of the visiting Mounties inside the Saloon and two more of them on the ground, leaving a one-to-one ratio in case all six Syndicate Members did in fact come outside, and it came to physical combat over guns in order to protect Antoinette.
Obviously, the two plain clothes Mounties inside had been instructed to move to more advantageous positions either inside Lucas's office if needed, or back to the outside, or even the balcony, if needed...
Inside Lucas was doing his best to keep calm, but he couldn't help notice Peugeot meandering over to the bar, sifting through the Queen of Heart's Register.
The young man ran his finger down the latest page of entries and smiled as he came to what he knew was a fake female name.
The only female name.
The room number matched the one he had been given. How Madame had gotten it he didn't know exactly. But she had said something about sending flowers to her niece via the Mercantile. However, it happened, she was right, and that was all that mattered.
He knew better than most, Madame had her ways.
A cold chill went through Lucas, as Peugeot glanced up the stairs on his way back to their table.
He knew exactly what was about to happen and Nathan had been right.
His choices were putting his own flesh and blood at risk.
And they didn't deserve this.
Especially not Toni.
The thought of Peugeot's hands touching his Sister was infuriating and sickening, all at once.
He struggled to bring his attention back to the conversation at hand.
"Bouchard, I'd advise you to listen to me when I speak!" commanded Kingston.
"Yes, Sir. It's late, and we've had a busy day. Just a little preoccupied. It won't happen again, Sir!"
"It better not. Now, the new merchandise is going to require your full attention, as well as meticulous care. Can you handle that?"
"Yes, Sir! Not a problem, Sir!"
"Good. Men let's go get started!"
As Kingston, Stanwyck, and Reichman rose from their chairs, Lucas did so as well.
All four men brought themselves to their full height, and as they walked toward Lucas's Office, he noticed with dread as the second three men, led by Peugeot, walked confidently up the staircase.
The sheer fear ate through his very being as the déjà vu scenes of what was about to happen to his Sister flashed through his mind, palpating with the terror and helpless fear she, herself, was about to experience!
He had to block it out. He had to function. Not only was his life at stake, so was Antoinette's.
In that instant above all others, he knew if he could do it all over again, he would have chosen to trust Bill and Nathan from the very beginning.
Anything to have prevented this!
But sadly, he had not done that…
The two undercover Mounties continued to play drunk as they heard the quick scuffle above them.
As hard as it was, they needed to wait patiently to allow whatever was going to go down in Lucas's Office, as Nathan's instincts were that it was big.
"Protect her at all costs, but if at all possible, hold off till they have tipped their hand," he had instructed.
What that hand was exactly, he admittedly didn't know.
Nathan only knew it would be significant.
And so, the two Mounties dressed in dirty, ragged farm clothes, continued their faux drinking, listening intently, ready to lunge into action at a second's notice…
Upstairs, it was Peugeot who slipped into the suite, as he was the stealthiest of the three.
He stood in the darkness, listening, allowing his eyes to adjust.
There was heavy breathing coming from the right bedroom door, and nothing at all from the left.
That was where the girl was.
He was sure.
He hesitated a moment, as he pulled a white silk scarf from under his waistcoat.
He had to be quick, no matter her sleeping position, as she had to be silenced.
First, secure the gag. Second, get her out into the hall. How hard could it be?
She was a kid after all.
Peugeot was right, about the first part that is.
But what he hadn't expected, even in the dark, Antoinette's beauty shone through.
She was no kid. Surprisingly, she was a young woman. Or about to be at least.
She was laying on her side, and the silk scarf was easily slipped around her face.
He pulled it tauntly and knotted it in the back, successfully preventing any sound to exit her mouth.
Her eyes were instantly open, and she was flailing toward him, fighting with everything she had.
This he hadn't expected.
He pinned her arms behind her and secured her hands together, then lifted her and slipped out of her bedroom, through their shared living area, out into the hallway.
She was still flailing her legs wildly, repeatedly kicking Peugeot in the shins, causing a low moan to escape from his lips. He almost stumbled, but his two partners were there to catch him.
The girl was making guttural sounds from deep within her throat, but all that stopped when Billings and Gifford flashed their guns.
For a brief second pure terror flashed across her eyes, but miraculously, the abject terror left as quickly as it had come.
She calmed herself as the Men carried her down the staircase and rushed her into Lucas's Office...
Inside the Office, the men put their guns away, leaving her gagged, but letting her down gently to the floor.
But Toni was not one to just take anything lying down, much less something as horrible as this, so with the guns gone, she turned with a flourish and summarily kicked all three of the 'Gentlemen,' who had just abducted her.
Their moans were real.
Very real.
Moans of agony.
And although Lucas was terrified, the Boss thought it was hysterically funny.
"Told you it wouldn't be easy, Peugeot! Young Lady, that was quite impressive. That's a whole lot more spunk than I've ever seen from your Brother here!"
A shiver ran through Lucas's entire body, which he did his best to hide.
The Syndicate knew exactly who Toni was.
"But, Bouchard, listen to me well. And memorize my words. I am here personally to tell you, any thoughts of leaving us or betraying us in any way, this one is our first target. Your Father is our second, and your Mother is our third. And we don't miss our targets. You know, firsthand, that we don't. You, and you alone, hold the life of your Sister, your Father, and your Mother, in the palm of your hands. Do you understand me?"
Lucas could only shake his head in the affirmative.
"Say it!" chided Kingston. "Open your mouth and declare it!"
Lucas cleared his throat.
"I understand you perfectly," he said with vigor.
"That's more like it. Then we are understood."
Toni's fury emanated from her body even without her voice. There was no mistaking it. She weaved her way condescendingly and fearlessly through the men to stand proudly by her brother, daring them to touch her again, or for that matter, him.
Even Lucas was astounded at her moxie.
But he was also proud of her. Very proud of her.
Toni had character, dignity, and even self-worth about her as a mere Teen.
All of which he had long ago lost, but she made him want to find his own character and dignity, that singular confidence, again.
All equating to his own self-worth, which made him his own person.
Something he hadn't had for a very long time.
Perhaps he had never had any of those things, yet his teenage Sister did.
Ashamedly, she was about to see just how far her brother had sunk, and he was ill that it had to be this way.
He vowed that somehow, he would make all this up to her; he would make her proud of him again.
He would become the Big Brother she deserved.
They just had to get through this. Together.
Ironically though, in some odd way, he was comforted by her presence.
He was no longer alone.
They wouldn't hurt her.
If so, they already would have.
Not tonight. They clearly needed her for leverage against him.
At least now, he was sure of that.
As Kingston sat down onto Lucas's desk chair, he reached into his pockets and pulled our fistfuls of goods, depositing them on Lucas's desk in a pile.
Then he motioned for each of the men to empty their own pockets, and one by one each of them did exactly the same.
Diamonds of every shape and size poured through their fingers till there was an unbelievable mound of sparkling brilliance shining back at them.
An absolute fortune sat before them.
"Your new mission," stated Kingston, flatly. "Everything is to be shipped in lots of a dozen, with detailed photos and descriptions in code No more, no less. Store in your safe till the day of shipment. Certify each mailing. If any are lost, you're responsible. At the cost of your life. Or hers."
Toni's eyes were wide, and she grabbed Lucas's arm pleading with him to walk away.
But his downcast eyes told her he couldn't.
"It's alright," he whispered, touching her gently.
And that was when Lucas knew, without doubt, Toni was truly his Sister, not some brat, not some inconvenience, not just a Step-sister, but his full Sister.
One who loved him, and he loved in return, bound together for the rest of their lives.
One he would do anything for.
Even give his life to protect her if need be.
She knew it too, by the look in his eyes, and that calmed her, knowing that somehow Brother and Sister would survive whatever this awful terror was, together…
The two plain clothes Mounties had deftly moved to Lucas's Apartments across from his Office. There they changed into their Uniforms and secured their weapons, waiting for whatever was coming next.
Nathan and his men outside hadn't expected the Cartel to take quite this long inside, but given the time, Nathan had no doubt, the men had just incriminated themselves beyond what they could have hoped for.
Bill gave a congratulatory signal in the dark.
They had predicted well.
Now to just wait for them to come outside.
The wait was not long.
Carrying lanterns, Lucas, with his Sister, by his side, led the way to the wooden crates, followed by Kingston, Stanwyck, and Reichman, with guns drawn.
The Lawmen waited breathlessly, but no one else seemed to be coming.
Nathan motioned to Kimball, one of the extra Mounties from his position at the side of the Saloon, to slip inside from the front and join the now fully attired Mounties in Lucas's Apartment.
Nathan, Gabe, Bill, and the other Mounties on the ground, as well as the Sharp-shooters on the balcony, observed Kingston, Stanwyck, and Reichman as they lowered their guns, ordering Lucas to open the first crate.
He first took Toni's lantern and sat it down, along with his, on the fenceposts.
The Men did the same.
But just after their placement of lanterns was made to offer the best light, a possum ran through the bushes causing Stanwyck to instinctively raise his gun and fire into them.
Thankfully, the hidden Mounties were missed, but the close call set everyone on edge, on both sides.
"Calm down, Stanwyck," ordered Kingston. "Let's get to work."
Each item was carefully lifted from the crate and cross-checked against the master inventory list, expensive piece of art, after expensive piece, seemingly in endless supply.
"Why are these two in the same frame?" asked Reichman. "They're different artists."
"Madame wanted them together. She didn't say why," explained Lucas, drily. "I did as I was told."
"Reichman, make a note and discuss with her prior to shipment," ordered Kingston.
"Got it, Boss."
And so, with meticulous attention to each and every detail, the Gentlemen continued with their work…
Inside, the now three Mounties positioned across the hall from Lucas's Office, were observing closely through a crack in the door when suddenly they saw their chance.
Peugeot came out of the office, looking as cocky as a Man could look as he walked down the hall, and out to the Bar.
In an instant, Constable Kimball was out the door and behind him before the Junior Syndicate Member even heard a single step.
"Stop right there…Royal Canadian Mounted Police!"
But Peugeot started running for the front door of the Saloon.
Which triggered the Mountie from Union City to expertly fire two warning shots toward both sides of the perpetrator, leaving two bullets embedded in the floor beside him.
"Peugeot! The next one goes in your heart!"
Now whether it was the bullets that had narrowly missed him or the words spoken with clear intent, Peugeot stopped dead in his tracks, raising his arms high above his head.
"You, Sir, are under arrest. Along with your mightier than thou attitude!"
Peugeot's previously cocky expression had quickly morphed into one of massive confusion and utter dismay, as his hands were securely cuffed behind his back.
At the same time the remaining two Mounties, with guns drawn, took over Lucas's Office, without even a skirmish.
The two Junior Syndicate Members were busy cataloging the diamonds and in so doing, had laid their weapons within reach on the desk, but not in their hands.
As Billings and Gifford both reached for their weapons, Constable Hodgkins and Constable Burke deftly used physical force to intercept and secure their arms behind their backs.
Not a shot had been fired inside Lucas's Office, leaving that part of the mission, which had loomed as possibly very tricky indeed, being accomplished most easily, instead, and with much relief.
But it was hearing the two shots inside the Saloon that caused sheer pandemonium outside…
As the first shot rang out, Kingston, Stanwyck, and Reichman froze into stunning disbelief.
They raised their guns, and shockingly, for the first time in their illustrious careers, knew not what their next move should be.
Lucas instinctively grabbed Antoinette, but as he did so she saw Stanwyck pull a second much smaller, ornate silver gun, just at the edge of his waistcoat, directing it toward her brother.
She reacted instantly pushing her terrified brother to the ground, jumping on top of him, praying that Lucas had barely missed the bullet that was clearly intended for him.
From just yards away came a voice.
A most commanding voice.
"This is Chief Inspector Nathan Grant of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. You are surrounded. Drop your weapons and raise your hands, now!"
The Syndicate Members looked toward the voice, then incredulously around them, as the sharpshooters shot to each side of them, as compelling proof.
"We mean business! Drop them this second, or you will be shot and carried from here in one of those crate boxes you so apparently love. And yes, they are ready and waiting."
His voice was steel with no inflection whatsoever. Authoritative, calm, even-toned, and persuasive.
"We walk out with you by our sides, or we carry you out. There is no other alternative."
Kingston, Stanwyck, and Reichman were incredulous, but their guns were slowly lowered, as had been commanded.
The men's faces suddenly altered from disbelief to hardened reality, as Nathan, Bill, Gabe, Matt, and the remaining Mountie Team walked out of the shadows, securely handcuffing each of them with one hand while their guns bore a centrifugal impression into their backs, as they turned to walk them to jail for their official arrests.
But with all that under control, it was Nathan who instead ran to Lucas. He had watched the whole thing from where he had been standing.
The flash of the second gun he had barely seen, as it had been mostly hidden by Stanwyck's waistcoat, although Antoinette's quick action drew his eyes to it. And he was absolutely sure he hadn't seen a bullet go flying past them…
"He's bleeding!" cried Antoinette, now with real fear in her eyes.
"Antoinette, move so I can help."
The words were so tender, causing her, in a sea of distrust, to somehow put all her trust in this honorable man she knew was engaged to Mademoiselle Millicent.
She moved enough to make room for Nathan, but she refused to release her Brother's hand.
Nathan saw the glaring wound, but because of Antoinette's quick thinking, this bullet which had clearly been aimed in retaliation to kill, had landed most ironically, given his own injury in Lucas's right shoulder.
Lucas's eyes were on Nathan's.
"Help me."
"I'm here. Lucas. I'm not leaving you," and Nathan untied the knot of his cravat and wrapped the silk piece around his arm above the wound.
The bleeding soon ebbed, but the color was fading from Lucas's face, as the pain was searing through his body.
"Lucas, listen to me. We didn't mean for this to happen. We did our best to protect you from this, but you are going to recover, that I can tell. Thank God, you are going to be fine. Thanks to your Sister, it's barely a flesh wound. Bill, help me get him to the infirmary!"
"I'll get a blanket."
"Thank you."
"Nathan…" whispered Lucas, as he raised his head.
"Yes, Lucas."
"I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry...for everything."
"I know you are. And for what it's worth, I am too. I know this is hard. But all this tonight, is giving you your life back. It may not be an easy road ahead, but I know you are going to be better off within the Law than in their clutches. It was just a matter of time till they had finished using you, and it was your life that they would have then come for. Whatever else the future brings, always remember that, as you go through this awful ending into what can be a brand new glorious beginning."
"Will you go through this with me?"
"Of course, Lucas. Millicent and I both will stand by your side till the very end of all this. You have my word."
At that moment a very distraught John Henry Bouchard came rushing through the back door of the Saloon, straight to his fallen Son, calling his name.
"Lucas! Lucas!"
Having heard Nathan's words, and armed with the knowledge his Son would be alright, he calmed himself down, and added to them, as he stooped by Lucas's side.
"Juliette, Antoinette, and I will always be with you, as well, Lucas. No matter what," he promised as he watched over his Son, while scooping his Daughter into his arms.
"Antoinette is my Princess, but Lucas…you've always been my Prince."
Lucas smiled weakly, and laid his head back, closing his eyes, no longer afraid, surrounded by love.
The love of his Family, and yes, even hopefully, a new Friend, one whose help he desperately needed, a Man he finally, after much internal battling, respected and was trusting enough to allow in.
But even in his drowsy state, there was one burning question that seared through Lucas's unconscious ramblings.
Would he ever be able to make all this right…
(*47) Proverbs 16:18, King James Bible, Public Domain