Retribution: The Evans Gang, Part 3


Friday, August 3, 1888
Center City, New Mexico


"...Mark, you've been staring out that window for an hour." Lucas walked across the hotel room, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "What's the matter?"

"Sorry, Pa." Mark shrugged as he stood, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Guess I'm just tired."

"Considering you were tossing and turning half the night, I'm not surprised. But it's not 'just' that. What's bothering you?"

Mark turned around and leaned against the wall, hesitantly looking up at Lucas. "...Probably just my overactive imagination."

"What do you mean?"

"...Just the way both of the Allen brothers looked at me after their sentencings. It was like… they were warning me."

Lucas took in a deep breath, wanting to rationalize his son's concerns without dismissing them.

"...I know the look you're talking about. I've received it plenty of times… but I'm still alive to talk about it. I understand if you're on edge for a while, Mark. It's only natural. But in a week's time Joe will be at the penitentiary and Bill will be buried."

"I know, but…" Mark shook his head. "You're right. No sense worrying about something I can't control, anyway."

"We still have some time before our train leaves. Do you want to head over to the gun shop?"

"The gun shop?"

"You still need a new rifle, don't you? The shop here has a better selection than Angus does. Not to mention lower prices…"

Mark cracked a smile as he pushed himself off the wall. "Sounds good."


Monday, May 2, 1892
The McCain Ranch, New Mexico


"Just don't start a fire this time!" Mark laughed and opened the door, hesitating to step out onto the porch.

"Something wrong, Son?"

Mark turned to face Lucas. "...You haven't been to the barn this morning, have you?"

"No, why?"

"The door's cracked open."

"Sure you didn't forget to latch it when you got home last night?"

"I thought I did…"

"It was late, probably slipped your mind."

"I don't know how something like that could have slipped my mind." Mark shook his head and grabbed his rifle from the stand.

Concerned that a predator had made its way into the barn, Mark carefully searched the out building before starting the morning chores. Ten minutes later, he heard Lucas walk in and start milking the cow.

"Did you make sure everything was away from the stove?" he teasingly inquired.

"As I recall, you've had your own fair share of mishaps in the kitchen." Lucas smiled, shaking his head. "What had you out so late last night?"

"After I left Micah's I had to ride for Doc clear out at the Turners'. I ran into Clay on the way home and spent a while at the cabin."

"He was working on the cabin on a Sunday?"

"Other than barn chores we weren't working. He uh…" Mark chuckled. "He was getting cold feet."

"About the wedding? Isn't it a little late to be calling things off?"

"He wasn't that cold. More nervous. He's excited, but… just the idea of having a wife and eventually children was overwhelming him."

"I can remember," Lucas replied; a soft smile crossing his face. "It's a miracle I didn't leave your ma standing at the altar."

"You were that nervous?"

"You didn't know your ma…" Lucas quieted, realizing what he had said. "...I'm sorry, Mark. That wasn't…"

"It's alright. I know you're joshing, anyway."

"...Your mother was something special. I don't know how I ever roped her into marrying me."

"You didn't cook for her until after you were married. That's how." Father and son laughed, turning back to their tasks. "I am going to spend some extra time at Clay's over the next few weeks. He needs help finishing the cabin and everything before the wedding."

"Just as long as you don't forget that we have branding to finish up this weekend."

"I know, I told him not to expect me Friday or Saturday."

"You tell Micah?"

"It'll be fine."

"Fine? You're going to be exhausted as it is, you don't need to be spending nights at the jail."

"I asked for next weekend off, I don't want to ask for this one, too."

"Micah would understand."

"I can handle it."

Lucas shook his head, letting out a heavy sigh. "You just remember this conversation when I'm trying to drag you out of bed Monday morning."

"Really, Pa, it'll be fine. Oat and Merrar confined all their hands to their ranches for three weeks, anyway. So there shouldn't be any saloon trouble."

"Three weeks? What happened?"

"Friday night there was a big fight at Sweeney's. A few of the hands ended up at Doc's and one of them got shot… it's still not clear what happened. But Oat and Merrar had to cover for damages until their men were paid so they confined everyone to the ranch. Didn't want them causing more trouble."

"I don't know how Sweeney puts up with it."

Mark shrugged his shoulders as he came out from the stall. "You should've seen the look on Oat Jackford's face, though. He sure wasn't happy."

"I don't blame him. What were the fines?"

"Upwards of sixty dollars. He just about blew his top when I said there were damages to settle for, as well."

Lucas laughed, shaking his head. "Another reason I'm glad we don't have to hire full-time help."

Father and son finished the morning chores before heading inside for breakfast. After they were through, Mark did the dishes and packed the saddle bags while Lucas got the horses ready. The pair were soon mounting up and headed for the range; Lucas being the first to kick his horse into a canter. Mark was preparing to follow suit when he watched his father suddenly tumble from Razor.

"Pa!" Mark jumped from BlueBoy, running to Lucas's side. "Pa, are you alright?"

Lucas slowly sat up, letting out a heavy sigh. "I'm alright, Son." The rancher slowly stood and picked his saddle up off the ground before examining it. "...Guess that cinch was weaker than I thought. I should've changed it out a few weeks ago. You go on ahead, I'll replace this and catch up with you."

"You sure?"

Lucas nodded and stepped forward to take Razor's reins, mildly limping.

"Pa, your leg."

"Just landed on my hip wrong; it'll work itself out. You start on the east side and I'll be there soon to help you."

"...Alright." Mark walked back to BlueBoy and mounted up, waving as he rode off.

Lucas returned to the barn and set to his task. Once he had Razor saddled again, the tall rancher walked to where the broken cinch lay. He examined it once more, shaking his head in confusion before leaving the barn and mounting up.

It was a long day, the cool spring breeze struggling to compensate for the intensity of the hot sun. The McCains returned to the homestead around six; Mark seeing to the horses and some of the chores while Lucas started supper.

As Mark was getting ready to leave the barn, he caught sight of the broken girth laying on a haybale. He picked it up and turned it over in his hand before putting it down and returning to the house.

"Pa?"

Lucas turned from the stove as Mark walked inside.

"How closely did you look at that cinch?"

"Close enough."

"You saw it too?"

"I don't know what to make of it. It wasn't cut, that's for sure."

"But it doesn't look like it broke from natural wear, either."

Lucas raised his shoulders. "Like I said, I don't know what to make of it."

"...You remember how the barn door was cracked open this morning?"

"There could be a dozen explanations for that. The most plausible being that you forgot to shut the barn up last night." Seeing the uncertainty on Mark's face, Lucas went on, "I'm sure it's just a coincidence."

"...It's a little serious to just chalk up to a fluke, don't you think?"

"What reason would anyone have to tamper with the cinch? There are plenty of other more reliable ways to hurt somebody if that was their intent."

"...I guess so."

"Go ahead and wash up, supper will be ready in a few minutes and you have to get to town."


Tuesday, May 3, 1892
North Fork, New Mexico


Mark looked up from the desk as the door to the office opened and greeted the marshal as he walked inside. "Morning, Micah."

"Mark," he answered with a smile. "Quiet night?"

"Yep. Most trouble I ran into was two coons fighting in the back alley."

"Good." Micah walked to the stove to find that his deputy had already made the coffee and poured himself a cup. "I suggest you head on over to the café before it's too late."

"Too late?"

"Bessie's serving cinnamon rolls this morning and there were only a few left when I was there."

Mark laughed as he stood from the desk and stretched his frame. "Thanks. Lou brought over a new packet of wanted posters that came in on the stage last night. They're over on the cabinet."

"Anyone of interest?"

"The Dalton Gang is at it again, but nothing too out of the ordinary."

Micah and Mark both turned as the office door suddenly swung open. Tom Merrar and Dillon Mays walked into the office, arms crossed and brows furrowed.

"What can I do for you gentleman?" Micah asked.

Mays stepped forward as he answered, "We've got a rustling problem on our hands."

"Rustling?" Mark stepped around the desk as he looked between the men. "How many?"

"I lost three and Tom's missing two. Anything strange been happening out at your place?"

Putting the incident with the cinch aside, Mark shook his head. "All the cattle were where they should've been when Pa and I rode the range yesterday."

"Well I'd check again if I were you," Merrar replied.

"You're sure it's rustlers?" Micah asked.

All three ranchers turned to the marshal. Merrar and Mays held incredulous looks on their faces while Mark let out a heavy sigh, raising his eyebrows.

"We're sure," Tom firmly replied.

"Well I hate to say it," Micah began, "But there's not much we can do until they're caught. Best we keep an eye out and pass the word along."

Mays turned to Mark. "Will you let your father know? We may have to call a meeting if this keeps up."

"Sure thing. Let us know if any more go missing."

The men nodded and left the office. Mark turned to start collecting his gear, asking Micah if there had been any camps outside of town the last few days.

"Not that I can recall. But if it is rustlers, they'd be smarter than to camp right outside of town."

"Let's hope they're not. It was a harsh winter, no one can afford to be losing livestock. I'll be seeing you."

"Bye. And don't forget to come in early tonight!"

"I won't!"

Mark ate breakfast down at the cafe before heading to the ranch. He rode into the yard just in time to see Lucas leading Razor from the barn; dismounting as BlueBoy came to a stop.

"Morning, Son."

"Morning. Mr. Mays and Mr. Merrar came by the office this morning. They've had five calves rustled between the two of them."

Lucas let out a sigh of defeat. "Them too?"

"Too? We're not missing calves, are we?"

"Not yet. Oat came by this morning and said he was hit. Calves and a few steers."

"What are we going to do?"

"Oat and I talked it over. We're going to call an association meeting and try to set up some sort of rotation to see if we can't catch whoever is doing the rustling."

"When's the meeting?"

"We'll have to wait until Thursday evening to make sure we get the word out to everyone." Lucas waited a few moments before asking, "So do you want to work the range or take the southern ranches?"

"...I'd ride for you, but I've gotta be in town a little earlier than usual. Guess I better stick around here."

"Why do you have to go in early?"

"Micah was invited for dinner over at the Stanges'."

"A little early? That's a four hour ride. You might as well have stayed in town."

"He's taking the four o'clock stage and then coming back tomorrow morning. I can ride east of town after Micah gets back tomorrow and cover the ranches out there."

"Sounds good. Oat already headed farther North, and if you get word to Micah before he leaves, the Stange hands can cover everyone out that way."

"What time are we calling the meeting for?"

"Seven."

"Alright. Oh, about that fallen tree we found on the way back last night…"

Lucas let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head. "I forgot all about that. Cattle can't wait, that stream needs running water. I'll help you clear the tree before I head out."

"Well I was gonna say I can try doing it myself, just didn't know which horse you'd recommend."

"We'll use Duster, but that's a two man job. I wouldn't try doing it by myself and I don't want you trying it. It won't take too long." With a gleam in his eye, Lucas added, "At least, getting it out of the water won't."

Mark rolled his eyes as he realized he was going to have to spend quite a while chopping firewood.

"Check the cattle first and then chop what you can before you leave. I'll work on more of it tomorrow morning."


Thursday, May 5, 1892
North Fork, New Mexico


Lucas and Mark rode up to the Cattlemen's Association building and brought their horses to a stop. Pulling their rifles from their scabbards as they dismounted, both men surveyed the street before turning towards each other.

"I sure hope more people decide to show up," Mark commented.

"It doesn't start for another half hour; they will."

Father and son entered the assembly hall and started getting things ready for the meeting. Ranchers slowly started trickling in, and by seven o'clock, the room was at full capacity. Lucas called the meeting to order and got the formalities out of the way before addressing the men.

"It's no secret to anyone why we're here. In just over a week, four ranches have been hit, some of them more than once. No one can afford to lose any more cattle, and the ranchers missing stock need to get their cattle back. It's been proposed that we set up a watch to see if we can't catch the rustlers in the act."

Before Lucas could go on, a voice called out from the crowd. "What good is that going to do? There's no rhyme or reason to which ranches are being hit and when. We could send everyone out to the Palmer place just to have your ranch hit."

"If you'll let me explain, I think you'll see why. You're right. At first, we didn't think there was any pattern." Lucas turned to the chalkboard where the names of the ranches surrounding North Fork were written. As he spoke, he drew lines connecting the locations he was referring to. "Oat was hit first. Two days later, it was Dillon Mays' ranch. The next night, Oat was hit again. And then two days after that... Tom Merrar had cattle go missing. The following night, Mays had another calf taken." At this point, a triangle could clearly be seen connecting the three ranches. "Just this afternoon, Abel MacDonald discovered two calves missing." Lucas placed a large dot to the left of the uppermost tip of the triangle. "If they continue their pattern, they should be trying to hit Dillon's ranch tomorrow night. If they're abandoning their old route and starting a new one, it could be James Palmer's place tomorrow or the following night."

"That's a whole lotta speculation," Walter Preston called.

"It is," Lucas agreed. "But I sure can't come up with a better theory. Right now it's our best shot."

"I would have to disagree." Ralph Morrow stood, waiting for Lucas to nod him on. "I don't know if you can really say for sure that's a pattern. I'd call it a coincidence at best considering it's only been a week."

"Easy for you to say," Tom answered. "You haven't been hit."

"If what Lucas is saying is right, we'll see it happen. But I think until then, it'd be best for everyone to watch their own place. Like Brian said, we could send everyone to one place only for another to be hit."

"We'll take a vote and reconvene Tuesday." Lucas hesitated before asking, "...Does anyone have anything else to add?"

For the next half hour, the ranchers went back and forth debating the best course of action. The vote was eventually taken before the men went home to keep an eye on their own properties. Lucas said goodbye to the last Association member and made his way towards his son, who stood in the back of the room.

"Sorry they didn't take to your idea."

"It was just a theory. I understand why it got voted down; there's just as much if not more risk in sending everyone to one ranch. Guess we'll see what happens."

"I have a few things to finish up in here, why don't you go to the hotel and order us dessert?"

"Sounds good."

Mark left the Association building and headed down the street to the hotel. He removed his hat as he walked inside where he was greeted by Lou.

"Good evening, Mark. Little early to be doing the rounds, isn't it?"

"I'm not working yet. Pa and I just finished a cattle meeting and decided to get some dessert. That is, if you still have any."

"As a matter of fact I just happen to have two pieces of apple pie left."

"...Well that's great, but what's Pa gonna eat?" Mark gave a mischievous grin as Lou laughed, leading the way to the dining room.

The young rancher took a seat in the restaurant, Lou returning with two plates of apple pie and a cup of coffee a few moments later.

"If you need anything else, I'll be in the office."

"Thanks."

Mark resisted the urge to start in on the pie as he waited for Lucas. But as five minutes turned to ten, he began to wonder what was taking so long. He eventually stood and made his way to the lobby of the hotel; stopping when he looked through the open doors to see Lucas stepping out of the meeting hall. The young rancher started to head towards the restaurant again, whirling back around when heard a gunshot and horses squealing in the street. Mark's eyes grew wide as he realized Lucas was directly in the horses' path.

"PA!" Mark ran to Lucas as the tall man fell to the ground; dropping to his knees upon reaching his father. "Pa, are you alright?!"

Lucas partially sat up, resting on his elbow as he shook his head and tried to get his bearings.

"Pa?"

"...I'm alright," he slowly answered. "They just brushed me."

Mark helped Lucas to his feet, worriedly looking him over. "You're sure you're alright?"

"I'm sure." Lucas took in a deep breath and slowly let it out before looking around. "Where'd that shot come from?"

"...I don't know."

"Lucas? Mark?"

Father and Son turned around to see Micah approaching them.

"You alright Lucas-boy?"

"Just dusty," he answered, brushing some of the dirt from his clothes. "Guess I need to watch where I'm going. Mark, I'm sure you're ready to eat; sorry I took so long."

"...That's alright. I'll be at the office by eight, Micah."

"Take your time."

As father and son walked to the hotel and sat down to eat, Lucas noticed that Mark was unusually quiet.

"...Something on your mind, Son?"

"Is something on my mind?" he incredulously asked. "Pa, you were almost trampled!"

"Accidents like that happen everyday. You know it's nothing to get excited over."

"Maybe. But first the saddle and now this?"

Lucas let out a deep breath. "What are you saying, Mark? That someone's trying to kill me?"

"...I don't know. But it sure seems like something is going on."

"I'm sure it's nothing. ...In the words of Mr. Morrow, I'd call it a coincidence at best."

Mark shook his head. "If you say so."


Tuesday, May 10, 1892
Future Jensen Homestead, New Mexico


Mark rode up to what would soon be Clay and Abigail's cabin. He brought BlueBoy to a stop and dismounted, greeting the couple as they stepped from the unfinished porch.

"Afternoon Abi, Clay."

"Mark," the bride-to-be pleasantly answered. "What brings you out this way?"

"Well I was going to give Clay a hand with the cabin. That is, if I'm not interrupting anything."

Abigail tried to keep herself from blushing as she replied, "Oh, of course not. I best be on my way… Ma will start to wonder what became of me."

Mark busied himself with unsaddling BlueBoy and letting him out in the coral as Abigail and Clay said goodbye. Waving as the young lady rode away, Mark laughed when he turned and saw his friend staring after her.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing…" Mark headed back towards the cabin as he went on, "We better get started. I have a meeting in town tonight."

"Meeting? There's not a town meeting, is there?"

"No, Cattlemen's Association."

"I thought you couldn't join until you were twenty-one?"

"Can't, but there's no rule against sitting in on the meetings, and because Pa's a member, what happens there affects our ranch."

"Well I sure appreciate you taking the time to help me."

"What are friends for? Besides, it gets me off the ranch and out of town. Ever since I started working for Micah I feel like all I ever do is work the range or watch the office."

"Things sure have changed over the last few years. ...We still on for this weekend?"

"Yep. Pa and I finished branding this morning and Micah gave me Friday and Saturday off. ...As long as you're sure you can handle being away from Abi for that long."

Clay shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Grab that hammer and get to work."

Mark spent the rest of the afternoon and a few hours that evening helping Clay before heading back to town. He left BlueBoy at the livery and then headed down to the Cattlemen's Association building, walking inside just before Lucas called the assembly to order. ...But as the meeting wore on, Mark was having a hard time focusing on what was being discussed. He was too busy watching his pa.

The rancher sat for most of the meeting; his lethargic behavior striking Mark as odd. He noticed his father frequently turning away to rub the bridge of his nose while other members took the floor. More than anything, Mark found it particularly strange that Lucas seldomly interjected his own opinions, letting the debate of the evening go much longer than normal.

With several more ranches having been hit, it was clear to most that the rustlers were following a pattern. The men agreed to set up a watch, starting with Silas Palmer's ranch Thursday night.

As soon as the meeting was officially brought to a close, Mark made his way to the front of the room and approached Lucas.

"Pa, are you feeling alright?"

Lucas looked up from the desk. "...What?"

"I asked if you were feeling alright. You don't look very good."

"...Tired." Lucas slowly stood as he gathered a few papers. "Will you help Tom with the schedule for the rest of the week? I need to talk to Ralph."

"...Sure."

Mark did as his father asked, using what he knew from breaking up fights in the saloom to keep certain ranchers and hands from working the same shifts together. The young rancher eventually said goodnight to Tom and walked him out before making his way back to the meeting hall. He cleaned up the room and straightened the chairs, then made his way to the office.

"Pa?" Mark knocked on the door before pushing it open, only to find the room empty. Returning to the hallway, The young man looked around in confusion; his brow furrowing when he realized the back door was cracked open.

Mark's heart dropped as he stepped outside and saw his father leaning against the side of the building, gasping for breath. He rushed forward; feeling the heat that radiated from the rancher's body as he took hold of Lucas's arm.

"Pa!"

Lucas tried to talk, but eventually gave in to shaking his head as he sank to the ground.

"Pa, what's wrong? Pa!"

"...Doc," Lucas finally gasped. "Get…"

Mark took off running, around the building and down to the clinic. He tore into the office, yelling for Doc Burrage.

The man quickly emerged from the back room, concern on his face. "Mark, what's wrong?"

"It's Pa; behind the Association building! Doc, something's wrong, he can't breathe right, he's burning up!"

"Show me where."

Mark led the way back to Lucas, both men kneeling down beside him. Mark grew even more concerned as he realized there was a small pool of vomit beside his pa. Doc briefly looked the man over before turning to the rancher's son.

"Help me get him inside."

Mark on one side and Burrage on the other, the two pulled Lucas to his feet and half carried, half drug him into the building. Having settled Lucas on the divan in the office, Mark ran to get water as Doc continued his examination. He could hear the sound of retching echo down the hall and pushed away the memories of his mother's death; refusing to entertain the thought of losing his pa.

For the next two hours, Mark and Doc Burrage stood helplessly at Lucas's side as the illness continued. At long last, the rancher slowly began to improve; eventually drifting off to sleep. The two silently cleaned up the office before finally stepping out into the hallway.

"...Doc, what's wrong with him?"

"...I don't know for certain. I'd suggest it being something he ate, but you would be ill too if that were the case."

"...I wasn't home for supper. I was working out at Clay's new place and had packed something to eat."

"That could be it then. Won't know for sure until I have a chance to talk with your pa."

"It won't start up again, will it?"

"I'm afraid I can't say. I'll stay for a few more hours and then-"

"Mark?"

Mark and Doc Burrage turned to see Micah round the corner and start down the hall.

"There you are. I've been looking all over. You were supposed to be at the office an hour ago, what…" Micah quited, seeing the look on the men's faces. "What happened?"

"It's Pa. ...I could tell he wasn't feeling well during the meeting, and then afterwards… I found him out back. He was burning up and was having trouble breathing. I… I'm sorry, Micah, I completely forgot-"

Micah shook his head. "Is Lucas alright?"

"Whatever it was has settled down for the time being," Doc answered. "We're still not sure what happened."

"Mark, you stay with your pa. I'll watch the office tonight."

"...Thanks, Micah."

"Doc, do you need help getting him to your office or the hotel?"

"He's asleep now, I think it's best to leave him be."

The marshal nodded in understanding. "If anything happens, let me know."

"We will. ...Mark, why don't you run to my office and grab some blankets and pillows?"

The young man hesitated before slowly answering. "...Alright."

Micah said goodnight to Doc and followed Mark to the clinic, stopping him as they entered the waiting room.

"He'll be alright. Sounds like the worst of it is over."

"...I hope so, Micah. I pray so…"