Luke was standing on the porch, coffee cup in hand, when Micah rode up with a grave expression. "Where's that young man you took on last week, Lucas?"

"Dan Meade? He's checking fences with Mark. Something on your mind?

"You bet there is." The marshal took out a wanted poster and handed it over.

Luke whistled. "Wanted for robbery? You sure? He's mighty young to be involved in something like that."

"They're getting younger all the time," Micah sighed. "I wired for more details when this came in. Meade's in a gang that hit two banks and a stagecoach in Kansas. Now that he's here, the others won't be far behind. Jake Clinton…"

"Jake Clinton!" Luke went inside for his rifle, calling, "He was here a couple of days ago to see Dan. I couldn't afford another hand but they went in town with Mark." He came out on the porch. "How we going to do this, Micah? I don't want my son in the middle of any gunplay."

"Then we'll have to wait for them to come back." Micah pulled out his pocket watch. "Three-thirty. I'll wait for them to come in for supper and catch Meade off guard."

It was almost three hours before Mark returned with Dan, smiling to see Micah sitting on the porch with his father. "Dan, this here is our marshal, Micah Torrance."

Dan eyed Micah warily. "Marshal."

Luke stood up. "Son, come here, please. I need to talk to you private."

"All right." Mark got down from his horse and started over to his father.

"Mr McCain, why do you have your rifle?" asked Dan.

The big man hesitated and Dan went for his gun. He got off a single shot and Luke winced, then fired back three times, dropping Dan off his horse.

"Pa!" Mark ran to his father.

"I'm all right, son." Luke held his arm. "It's just a scratch." He watched sadly as the marshal turned Dan over. "I'm sorry about your friend. Micah found out he was wanted for robberies up in Kansas."

Mark looked at the blood welling between Luke's fingers. "Never mind about him. Doc Burrage should look at that."

"All right." Luke sat down. "Hitch up the wagon."

They went into town and left Dan's body at the undertaker, then went over to Burrage's office. The doctor stitched and bandaged and ordered bed rest, remarking sourly that if Luke followed his recommendation for once he was going to look for the sky to fall. They wound up in Micah's office, where the marshal started writing a telegram to the Kansas authorities.

"That should do it." Micah read over the telegram. "I just wish we knew what that gang of Meade's was up to. For all we know, they're planning to hit the bank here in North Fork. It's gotten big enough to interest them."

Luke blew out his breath. "That is mighty worrisome but I don't see what we can do about it. Maybe you can deputize a few men while they're in the area."

"Pa?" Mark sat on the edge of Micah's desk. "There's another way."

His father and the marshal looked interested. "What's on your mind, son?"

The boy said quietly, "Jake Clinton was part of Dan's gang."

Luke raised his eyebrows. "And?"

"And Dan introduced me to him. Maybe I could find out what he's planning."

"Absolutely not." Luke regarded Mark as if he had suddenly sprouted an extra head. "You're not getting mixed up with robbers."

The boy stood up and took a turn about the room, then came back and looked his father squarely in the eye. "You know Micah's right. They might be planning to hit the bank right here in town. A lot of people could get hurt."

"That's not your responsibility!" Luke's voice went up a notch.

"Pa, how many times did you take on something that wasn't your responsibility?" Mark's voice was rising too. "How many times did I wait, not knowing if you were going out to die to keep our home safe? I'm eighteen years old. That's older than you were when you went to war."

"One year older." Luke looked exasperated. "Micah, help me out here. Tell him what a crazy idea this is."

"I can't, Lucas boy. I think he's right."

"What!"

"Don't get on your high horse with me. Mark is right. For once we have a chance to get ahead of something before it happens. Let him talk to Clinton."

"You think Jake Clinton is going to talk to Mark about a robbery he has planned, just like that?" Luke pushed his hat back on his head. "You've both taken leave of your senses."

Mark said thoughtfully, "Pa, how did you get them to talk to you, that time you went to Wyoming on that government job?"

"Well, I was undercover, son. I pretended to be an outlaw. You can't do that. Clinton already knows you're a rancher."

"I think that could be just how I could get him to talk." Mark grinned at the look on his father's face. "Well, don't you see? He's in the saloon every night. If I wait for him to go in, and then I went in and got some whisky…"

"Whisky!"

Mark went on. "And then you came in and we had a fight and I said I wanted to leave the ranch, don't you think Jake would see that and maybe think he could trust me? Especially if I was mad at you for killing Dan."

"Say, that could work," said Micah.

"No." Luke shook his head. "Let's go, son. We're going home."

"I'm not going, Pa," Mark said firmly. "Dan tried to kill you and his gang is coming here and I might be able to find out what they're gonna do. You raised me to do the right thing, didn't you?"

"I didn't raise you to put yourself in this kind of danger, son," said Luke softly.

"Well, I don't plan to make a habit of it!" Mark took a deep breath. "It's like Micah said. For once we have a chance to stop something before it starts. I'll go over to the saloon after Jake gets settled, and then you come over and...and I guess we have a fight. A real fight." Mark's voice faltered. "Pa, now I think about it I don't know if I can do it."

Luke wanted nothing more than to pull his son into his arms and hold him close, but Mark needed support as a man, not a child. He felt shaky just thinking about what the boy wanted to do, but when he spoke, his voice was steady. "Son, you can always do what you have to do. Something helps you, somehow." Luke leaned forward and locked eyes with Mark. "I know you can do this. When I come in, you make it good."