Wednesday, May 11, 1892
North Fork, New Mexico
Lucas woke, confused by his surroundings. He sat up on the divan and brushed his hair out of his face; looking around to see Mark asleep at the desk. The rancher tossed his blanket aside and crossed the room to wake his son.
"Mark?"
Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Mark jolted awake before looking up to see Lucas beside him.
"Pa, what are you doing up? How do you feel?"
"...How do I feel?"
"Well after last night, Doc and I figured…" Seeing the look on his pa's face, Mark quieted. "...You don't remember, do you?"
Lucas's brow furrowed in confusion as he sat down across from his son, trying to think back. "...Everything after the meeting is all a blur. What exactly happened?"
"Well you kinda disappeared after you finished talking to Mr. Morrow… I thought you came back here. After everyone else had gone I found you out back, real sick. ...You were pretty bad off."
Lucas passively nodded, bits and pieces of the previous evening coming back to him. "...I feel fine now. Did Doc say what he thought it was?"
"He wasn't sure. Said it could've been something you ate."
"Is anyone at the hotel sick?"
"...I don't know, why?"
"I got something to eat over there a little while before the meeting started. If it was something I ate, Doc would've had more patients than just me. How long was he here?"
"...It was close to midnight when he left. He wanted to make sure whatever it was didn't start up again. But if it wasn't something you ate, what do you think it was?"
"I don't know, but I seem to be over it. Why don't you and I-"
A knock on the office door interrupted Lucas. Mark stood to answer it, soon letting Doc Burrage inside.
"Lucas, you look like you're feeling a whole lot better this morning."
"I am. Did you have any more patients last night?"
"...No, why?"
"Mark told me what you said about it being something I ate, but I had supper at the hotel last night."
"What did you have?"
"Steak and potatoes, just the same as half a dozen others."
"Well in that case, it could've been a bad piece of meat. Maybe even a spoiled potato or two. I wouldn't rule it out, and I wouldn't be surprised if you're a little run down for a few days."
"Honestly, Doc, I feel fine."
"Just the same, I'd advise you to take it easy for a few days."
"Can I take him back to the ranch?" Mark asked.
"I don't see why not. Just if you do start feeling ill again, Lucas, don't hesitate to send Mark for me."
"Not if it means sleeping on that thing again," Lucas declared, nodding to the divan as he rubbed his neck.
The threesome had a good laugh before heading outside. Mark and Lucas said goodbye to Doc, then headed towards the livery.
"Pa, are you feeling good enough that I can stand watch in town tonight? If not I can let Micah know and-"
"At the most, I'm tired. No reason you need to stick around the ranch."
"Lucas! Mark!"
Father and son stopped and turned around, waving as Micah approached them.
"Lucas-boy, I sure didn't expect to see you up and around this morning. You feeling alright?"
"Never better. I'm not sure what last night was about, but it's over, whatever it was."
"Glad to hear that. Mark, you want me to watch the jail again tonight?"
"No," Lucas answered for his son. "He'll be here at eight o'clock, as usual."
"Alright, then. ...Mark, I did have a favor to ask."
"Well sure, what is it?"
"I know you don't usually work Sunday nights, but I've got a prisoner transfer to take care of that afternoon. Will you and Clay be back by then?"
"Well we will, but I'm supposed to help watch cattle Sunday night."
"Son, I'll take your watch for you."
"...Are you sure, Pa? After what happened…"
"For the last time, I'm fine. Micah, he can watch the town Sunday night and if you need me to stick around after church until Mark and Clay get back, I will."
"We'll be back by then," Mark assured.
"I guess that settles it," Micah replied. "Mark, I'll see you tonight."
Monday, May 16, 1892
North Fork, New Mexico
Mark looked up from the desk as the door to the office opened, surprised to see Micah walking inside.
"Wasn't expecting you to get back so soon. How was the ride?"
"Fine, fine. There any coffee in that thing?" he asked, gesturing to the stove.
"Now what kind of deputy would I be if I didn't keep your coffee on?" Mark walked to the stove and poured Micah a cup as the marshal put up his hat and shotgun. "Sure you're glad to have that done and over with."
"Doesn't make much difference. I'm sure it won't be long before they've found somebody else for me to haul across the territory."
"You know, I wouldn't mind taking a transfer for you every now and again."
"Prisoner transfers in this jurisdiction are my responsibility. I start passing them off to you, Denver might just start sending you my paycheck." Micah chuckled before taking a sip of his coffee. "It's really not as bad as I make it out to be. Any trouble last night?"
"Nope, everything was quiet. I-"
Mark was suddenly interrupted as a commotion broke out in the street. Marshal and deputy grabbed their firearms before stepping onto the boardwalk, finding a group of men carrying someone into Doc's office.
"Walter, what happened?" Micah asked as he and Mark approached the buckboard sitting outside the clinic.
"Rustlers," the man grumbled, still looking towards the doctor's office. "Beat Luke McCain within an inch of his life."
"Pa?!"
The man whipped around and tried stopping Mark from going inside, but it was too late. The deputy tore into the office, brushing past several ranchers as he ran to the back room. Mark stopped mid-stride as his eyes fell on Lucas; the sight of his pa knocking the wind out of him.
Only briefly looking behind him to confirm who had entered the room, Doc Burrage turned to Tom. "Merrar, get him out of here."
"No! I won't-"
"Mark, you're no good in here, wait outside," Tom insisted, pushing the deputy out of the room.
"You can't-"
"Give the doctor room to work." Tom shut the door behind him and gave Mark a slight push towards one of the chairs. "I'm sure Lucas will be fine."
"Fine? Did you see what they did to him?!" Mark demanded, gesturing to the back room. "He looks half-dead already!"
"Just let the doctor work," Oat Jackford boomed from behind him. "Getting excited isn't going to help matters."
Still refusing to sit down, Mark turned around and looked to the other ranchers in the room. "What happened?"
"...No one exactly saw it," Dillon answered. "Merrar and me found him this morning, caught up in some barbed wire."
"Where?"
"North side of my property," Tom replied. "Close to where the border pass lets out."
Without another word, Mark stormed out of the clinic and ran down to the livery. He was halfway through saddling BlueBoy when he heard Micah's voice behind him.
"Mark, what do you think you're doing?"
"I'm going after them."
"It's been most of two weeks and no one's found them yet. You need to think about this."
"There's nothing to think about."
"You can't ride out there on your own. Wait until we can get a formal posse organized and-"
"It'll take too long, Micah! Who knows where they are? Every minute we wait puts that much more distance between us and them. I'm riding, now!"
"Mark, your father wouldn't want-"
"I don't care!"
Micah found himself staring into the cold, angry eyes he had seen in Lucas too many times. "...Do you remember what happened when your pa went after the Starks?"
Mark led BlueBoy from the stable and mounted up. "These aren't the Starks and I'm not my pa. I'm gonna bring every last one of them back here to stand trial if it's the last thing I do!"
Before Micah could say anything else, Mark took off, leaving a cloud of dust behind him. The marshal shook his head and walked back down the street to find several ranchers leaving the doctor's office.
"Mays, any word?"
The man shook his head, letting out a heavy sigh. "Doc wanted everyone out."
"How bad is he?"
"...He was hardly breathin' when Tom and I found him. He was so bloody and bruised, we didn't realize it was him at first. They sure did a number… I'm frankly surprised they didn't finish the job."
"They're sure lucky they didn't… especially if Mark catches up to them before we do."
"Mark? Mark went after them, alone? What'd he do a fool thing like that for?"
"...Given almost any circumstance, Lucas and Mark are two of the most level-headed people I know. But you threaten the life of one, the other will come after you with a vengeance like none other. There's no such thing as acting rationally when they've reached that point."
"I just hope Mark doesn't get himself into trouble."
"You and me both. ...Posse's gonna head out in fifteen minutes; will you help me spread the word?"
"Sure thing."
Mark spent two hours searching Tom Merrar's property before finally picking up on what he hoped was the rustlers' trail. As the young deputy rode, he couldn't find a way to push the memory of Lucas's bruised, bloody figure from his mind. Part of him couldn't help but wonder if he had just left his pa to die… if Lucas would spend his final moments alone. The guilt Mark felt over that possibility nearly persuaded him to turn around. ...But he couldn't. Whether his pa survived or not, he had a responsibility to find the men that had done this; to see that they were brought to justice. He couldn't… he wouldn't stand by and let them get away.
Morning turned to afternoon before Mark finally stopped to rest his horse. Letting BlueBoy drink from the stream, he again examined the tracks. This time he was able to definitively make out three horses and guessed the riders to be about four or five hours ahead of him.
Mounting up once again, Mark continued to follow the trail. He had been riding for nearly six hours in all when he finally realized something: the rustlers weren't running away. The trail had gone the long way around North Fork and was now headed for the edge of the MacDonald's ranch.
Frustrated that he hadn't seen this sooner, Mark dug his heels into BlueBoy's flanks and rode out to a ridge that overlooked the property. He carefully scanned the area, looking for anything that seemed out of place. It was then that Mark began to hear voices.
Dismounting, the deputy crept to the edge of the ridge, looking down to see a cave opening in the
canyon wall. He quietly sat, listening to the conversation below.
"How much longer we gonna stick around here? We're lucky we ain't been caught yet."
"Two more ranches, then we'll be through," a much older voice answered.
"I sure don't like sittin' around one place so long… especially with them catching onto us so quickly in the beginning."
"Do you have to bring that up again?" a third voice asked.
"All I'm saying is that the plan that no one was supposed to figure out, sure got figured out mighty fast. You and your ideas."
"My idea would have worked just fine if somebody hadn't been in such a rush to get out of the area! Two weeks ain't enough time!"
"You boys stop squabbling; it don't matter anymore. We'll be out of here in three days with nobody the wiser."
Mark made his way back to his horse, struggling with what to do next as he mounted up. He knew it didn't sound like they were going anywhere; he knew it would be better to get back up. But he didn't want to risk losing the rustlers… what if he went for help and they were gone when he got back?
The deputy rode as far as he could before dismounting and creeping to the back entrance of the cave where he found three horses. He carefully picked his way through the tunnels, finally coming up behind the rustlers. Cocking his rifle, Mark ordered the men to drop their gun belts.
The outlaws froze, keeping their hands away from their side arms. Several moments passed before the oldest man voiced a reply.
"Who… who are you? What do you want?"
"I'm the man that has a rifle pointed at your back. And I want you to drop the gun belts. So I suggest you do that before I get tired of waiting."
All three quickly complied, raising their hands again as the guns fell to the cave floor. Mark assessed the three men before ordering the youngest to tie the other men's hands behind their backs. He then ordered them out of the cave, firing his rifle when they hesitated to move.
Once they reached the horses, Mark ordered the rustlers to stand over by a tree as he tethered the outlaw's horses to a lead rope and tied it to his saddle horn. Finally mounting BlueBoy, Mark told the men to start walking.
"Now wait a minute," the apparent father protested. "There ain't no reason we can't ride them horses! You got no right to-"
Mark fired his rifle again, interrupting the man. "Mister, you best be thankful I'm letting you walk. If we had more time, I'd make you crawl. But we have two hours of daylight left and I want to be in town before it's gone. So move!"
An eerie silence hung over the land as Mark marched his prisoners back to North Fork; his blood boiling with contempt for these men and what they had done to his pa. Upon reaching town, Mark locked the men in jail before walking back to the clinic.
"Doc?"
The doctor turned from his medicine cabinet, surprise on his face. "There you are; I was wondering what became of you. I sure didn't mean to have Merrar push you out of the office."
"I left on my own. How's Pa? Is he going to be alright?"
"Your father is one hard man to kill. With proper care and rest, he should be alright."
"...Should?"
"...He took a few hits to the head. When he woke up, he couldn't put a sentence together… didn't understand what had happened. I think it's only temporary… his brain needs time to sort itself out."
"Can I see him?"
"He's asleep now, but-"
"Please, Doc."
"For a few minutes. He needs quiet; I don't want you going in there and waking him."
"I won't."
Mark walked to the back room and quietly shut the door behind him. He slowly made his way towards Lucas; again feeling his heart drop into his stomach as he saw his pa motionlessly lying on the bed. Lucas looked better than he had that morning, but the number of cuts, bruises, and bandages that lined his pa's frame made the young man's stomach turn.
Mark took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair, sitting down beside Lucas. He wondered how long his pa had been conscious; how long those men had continued to torture him. Would he remember what had happened when he woke up again? ...Would he wake up again?
Micah said goodnight to Oat Jackford and dismounted before heading inside his office.
"I want the truth!"
The marshal looked up to see his deputy yanking another young man to his feet; angrily staring down at him. He hurried to step forward, pulling the young man back and pushing Mark away.
"Just what's going on here?"
"He's one of them," Mark bitterly answered.
"One of who?" Micah asked.
"One of the men that tried to kill Pa!"
"That ain't true!" The prisoner earnestly looked to Micah; his eyes pleading. "We didn't try to kill nobody! We ain't seen nobody for days! Sure, we took a few head of cattle, but Pa always said a few calves ain't worth somebody's life!"
Micah hesitated before looking at Mark. "You're sure it was them?"
"Of course I am! I followed their trail all the way…"
"All the way…?"
"...Well I'm sure they covered up their trail after they were through with Pa! That's what took me so long to find it in the first place. I picked it up and followed it most of the way back to the MacDonalds' before taking a shortcut."
"We didn't try to kill anybody; you've got to believe me!"
"I don't have to believe anything!"
"Just hold on, Mark. Let's just give everyone some time to settle down and-"
"Time to settle down? Pa could be dead right now!"
"But he's not. There will be plenty of time to sort this all out. You need to go cool down."
"Micah!"
"That's an order, son."
Grabbing his hat and rifle on the way, Mark stormed out of the office.
"Marshal, you've got to believe us; we didn't do it!"
"That's for a jury to decide. Let's go."
Micah locked the young man in one of the cells and then returned to the front office. He put up his hat and shotgun; fixing himself a cup of coffee before sitting down at the desk. Nearly an hour passed before the door opened, Mark walking inside.
"...I'm sorry," he apologized; dropping into a chair. "I shouldn't have let myself react like that. ...I understand if you don't want me working while they're here. ...Or at all."
"You're human, Mark. Circumstances get the best of all of us at times. As long as you can control yourself, I don't see any reason why you can't keep standing shift." Micah looked the deputy over before asking, "...What is it?"
"...It's my fault. I… I was supposed to be the one out there last night; I…"
"Your father would tan your hide if he heard you talking like that. Lucas volunteered to watch the cattle."
"I shouldn't have let him. With what happened Tuesday, I should have stayed home this weekend and traded nights with someone else."
"That way someone else could be lying in Doc's office?"
"...You know that's not what I mean."
"What do you think Lucas would say if he heard you talking like that?"
Mark let out a heavy sigh; resting his elbows on his knees as he held his head in his hands. "...If it's not my fault, why do I feel responsible?"
"It's human nature to feel responsible for the things we care about. But it doesn't mean that feeling is always right. You didn't cause this; it's not your fault. Stop trying to blame yourself and go get some sleep. You look like you could use it."
"But it's my night to-"
"Not tonight, Mark. You're too distracted. Go up to my place or get a room at the hotel. I'll watch things tonight."
Tuesday, May 17, 1892
North Fork, New Mexico
"Pa? ...Pa?"
Lucas opened his eyes to see Doc Burrage and Mark looking down at him. He looked between them in confusion, relaxing as he began to remember what had happened.
"Pa, can you hear me?"
Lucas nodded and tried to sit up; stopping as the pain became too much.
"Easy, Luke," Doc warned. "It's gonna be awhile before you're back to your old self."
"You're telling me…"
Doc Burrage and Mark let out a sigh of relief before the doctor asked how much Lucas could remember.
"...Everything up to the attack… just bits and pieces after that."
"The men that did this; could you identify them?"
"Not now, Mark," Doc chided.
Lucas slowly nodded. "Just one man… I didn't get a real good look at him. ...But he was tall."
Mark's heart sank as Burrage nodded in approval. "Seems like your brain is working better today. Yesterday you could hardly talk. Why don't you let me look the rest of you over?"
After Doc finished examining Lucas, he took his leave; warning the deputy not to stay too long. Mark saw the doctor out before returning to Lucas's side.
"...You're certain it was only one man? There couldn't have been more?"
"As sure as I can be… why?"
Mark dropped into a chair, shaking his head. "...I tracked the rustlers down yesterday. There were three of them. ...Based on their tracks, I didn't think they had ever split up… and they insist they didn't try to kill you."
"You tracked them down? In one day?" Teasingly, Lucas went on, "Is there a reason you couldn't have done that two weeks ago?"
"...I'm sorry, Pa."
Lucas furrowed his brow. "Sorry? What for?"
"For being so busy that I didn't try to track them down before. ...For not being on the range, Sunday night."
"Mark, that's not your fault. You were needed here."
"...But if I-"
"No, Son. Unless you're going to say you were the one who attacked me, you can't take the credit for this."
Mark couldn't find a response and eventually nodded.
"...When Doc lets me out of here, I can take a look at the men you brought in. But like I said, it was just one man."
"...You might as well, but they're all short. ...The tallest only had a few inches on me."
Lucas hesitated, seeing the concern in his son's eyes. "...We will get to the bottom of this, Mark."
"...What if we can't? Or what happens if they try again?"
"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. Until then, worrying isn't going to do either of us any good."
Friday, May 20, 1892
North Fork, New Mexico
Mark walked into the back room of the clinic to find Doc Burrage giving his pa one last examination.
"All the cattle back where they should be, Son?"
Mark nodded, letting himself drop into a chair. "Finally. Some of them gave us quite a bit of trouble. Doc, how's he looking?"
"As well as can be expected for someone that was near dead a few days ago. Luke, I'm letting you out of here on the condition that you take it easy."
"Don't worry, Doc. I won't over do it."
"I don't want you doing any of it. Mark, you keep a close eye on him."
"I will."
After lunch at the hotel, Mark drove Lucas back to the ranch and got his pa settled in the house. He then spent a short while doing chores around the homestead before riding out to the range and checking the cattle.
That evening over supper, Lucas noticed how quiet and distant his son seemed. He gave it a while before finally shaking his head and putting his fork down.
"Mark, what's wrong?"
Mark let out a heavy sigh as he turned towards Lucas. "...I'm just frustrated with myself."
"Now wait a minute, I thought we settled this a few days ago. What happened was not your fault."
"It's not that. It's that I tracked down those rustlers instead of finding the man that tried to kill you."
"That's not your fault, either. And those rustlers did need to be found."
"Meanwhile there's a would-be killer on the loose! Who knows where he could be by now?"
"If he knows what's good for him, he made his way down to the border. He's probably long gone by now."
"He needs to be brought to justice!"
"Justice? Or are you looking for vengeance?"
"Pa, the man nearly killed you!"
Lucas waited a long moment before answering. "...Mark, we've been through a lot together. But I've never seen you react quite like this. ...Micah told me how you were when you went after the rustlers… neither one of us have ever seen you so full of… I don't know what to say besides hate."
"...I don't reckon you have. But no one's toyed with us… toyed with your life like this before. It's like a cat torturing a mouse before finally killing it."
"What do you mean?"
"What do I mean? First the saddle, then the horses, and… and you getting sick, what if that was somehow him, too? And now nearly beating you to death?"
"...It's possible, but there's no way to prove that the incidents are related."
"How can you not be concerned?"
"I never said I wasn't. What I said was that worrying wasn't going to do us any good. All that's going to do is cloud your judgement." Lucas sat forward, looking into Mark's eyes. "Son, I know this hasn't been an easy week. But if you're right, whoever is doing this can only win if you let him get inside your head. You're going to drive yourself mad if this is all you think about."
Mark hesitated before slowly letting out a deep breath. "...I'm sorry, Pa. Just… seeing you so close to…"
"You don't need to apologize. But you do need to hurry up and eat if you're going to make it to town in time."
"You're sure you won't need me around here? Micah would understand if-"
"You and Doc have been waiting on me hand and foot for the last couple days. I'll be fine for one night."
"...I'm glad you're alright, Pa."
Lucas smiled. "Me too."
Mark finished supper and cleaned up the kitchen, then did the evening chores and headed to town. He and Micah talked at the office for a while before the marshal took his leave and Mark started to walk the town. The deputy took his time, making it back to the main road just before eleven. He checked the locks and windows of each establishment once more; surprised to find the hotel doors still open.
"Lou?" Mark stepped into the lobby and saw the proprietor making her way down the stairs.
"Mark? I wasn't expecting ya to be on duty tonight," she answered in surprise. "I thought ya would be back home with Lucas."
"Well I think Pa was getting tired of me watching his every move. It's a little late to still have your doors open, isn't it?"
"Just got busy, I suppose. I'll start locking up soon."
"Well have a good night."
"You as well."
Mark returned to the office, hanging his hat by the door and setting his rifle against the desk. He sat down and started to put his feet up, stopping as a blank envelope suddenly caught his eye. The deputy's brow furrowed in confusion as he sat up and tore open the letter.
'By now I reckon you've come to realize that this ain't just a string of bad luck your pa's run into. As much fun as this has been, it's time you and me get down to business.
Sunday after next, make your way down to the border pass just before midnight. Follow the road for a quarter mile and wait for me there.
Come alone and unarmed or Lucas McCain will have one final… "accident." Breathe one word of this to anyone and your pa will die a more slow and painful death than you could ever imagine.
J. A.'
