Saturday, May 21, 1892
North Fork, New Mexico


Micah made his way down the rickety old stairs that led away from his small home. Reaching the boardwalk, the aging marshal took in a deep breath of fresh air and then headed toward the jail. He entered the office, surprised to see Mark sitting at the desk.

"I thought you'd be making the rounds this time of the morning." Micah walked to the stove and started pouring himself a cup of coffee; turning back around when he didn't hear a reply. "Mark? ...Mark?"

"...Sorry, what?" Mark looked up to see Micah standing beside him.

"Rough night? You look like you hardly got any sleep."

"...Long night." As he answered, Mark took the letter from the desk and placed it in his pocket.

"Trouble at the saloon?"

He stared at Micah for a long moment. How was he going to be able to hide this from the two people he told everything? "...It's just a long story."

Returning to the stove, Micah asked if Mark wanted a cup of coffee.

"No, I have to get on the rounds."

"I'll do them later. Something wrong?"

"It was just a long night."

"You sure?"

An array of worried thoughts ran through Mark's mind as he nodded.

"Well like I said, I can do the rounds. Why don't you get home and make sure your pa doesn't kill himself trying to do too much?"

Again, Mark found himself staring at Micah as the word 'kill' echoed over and over again in his head.

"...Mark?"

The deputy slowly stood from the desk, nodding as he grabbed his rifle. "...Thanks, Micah."

Mark left the jail and made his way to the livery to get BlueBoy. As he rode home, the young rancher found himself asking the same questions that had been plaguing him all night. Why was he doing this? Was he watching him now? Was he watching his pa? ...Did he really have any intention of letting either one of them live?

Upon arriving home, Mark let BlueBoy out in the corral and saw to what morning chores hadn't been done. He then made his way inside to find his pa at the stove.

"You're home early," Lucas greeted as he turned around.

"...Micah offered to do the rounds. You really should've left the other chores for me."

"A little work never killed anybody."

Killed. Mark sat down at the table as he tried to forget about the note burning in his jean pocket. ...But he couldn't.

"You look exhausted. Long night? ...Mark?"

At the sound of his name, Mark's head shot up. "What?"

"I said you look exhausted. Long night in town?"

"Didn't sleep well. ...You didn't have any visitors last night, did you?"

"Visitors? No, why?"

"...Just didn't know if anyone from town decided to drop by." Suddenly realizing what Lucas was doing, Mark stood as he went on, "Pa, you should be resting. Let me do that."

"I'm perfectly capable of making my own breakfast. And unless you ate in town, hand me a few more eggs."

Little was said between father and son over breakfast. Lucas tried making conversation, but Mark seemed distant.

A few hours after his son headed out to the range, Lucas heard a horse in the yard and stepped out to the porch to see Micah dismounting.

"Morning, Lucas-boy."

"Micah," he greeted with a smile. "What brings you out this way?"

Micah lifted Mark's hat before handing it to his friend. "Mark left this at the office this morning."

"Thanks, but you didn't need to ride all the way out here."

"I figured now would be a good time to talk to you." The marshal looked around before going on, "Mark is on the range, isn't he?"

Lucas slowly nodded. "Something wrong?"

"What do you think about Mark standing shift so soon?"

"So soon?"

"You were just released from Doc's. You know how worried he was… maybe still is."

"...I don't know what that has to do with him standing shift. He seemed fine last night… after we talked."

"And this morning?"

Lucas hesitated before answering. "...He was acting different this morning, and I know it wasn't just because he was tired. ...But I don't think whatever is bothering him has to do with me. All morning he was distracted… I couldn't get him to hold a conversation with me. Something happen in town last night?"

"Not that I'm aware of. ...If you think he's alright to stand shift, I won't say anything to him, but-"

"Micah, that's between you and your deputy. I can't interfere."

The marshal gave a small smile, nodding. "Alright. You have any coffee left?"

"Come on in."


Wednesday, May 25, 1892
The McCain Ranch, New Mexico


After a long morning of working the cattle, Mark returned to the homestead. He put BlueBoy in the barn and made his way to the house; calling for Lucas as he entered.

"Pa?" Not seeing Lucas in the front room, he headed to the bedroom. "Pa?" His heart starting to beat a little faster, Mark walked out the kitchen door and stood on the porch as he looked around. "Pa?!"

Mark ran to the barn and started to saddle his horse again; a voice suddenly sounding behind him.

"Mark, what's wrong?"

He turned around to see a concerned Lucas walking into the barn.

"Where were you?!"

Lucas's brow furrowed in confusion as he answered his son. "I was washing down the bridle bits. ...Mark, what's going on?"

"Nothing," he answered, pulling his saddle from BlueBoy again.

Lucas took hold of Mark's arm, staring down at him. "Son, something's been bothering you all week. I'd like to know what that is."

Mark pulled away from his pa, walking to the sawhorse and putting his saddle down. He let out a heavy sigh as he again tried to find a way to hide the truth. "...I'm sorry, Pa. You weren't where I expected you to be, and I guess after last week I'm still on edge."

"You guess?"

Mark looked up at Lucas, contemplating what to say… realizing what he was going to have to do to protect his pa. "...You were right. All I can think about is what happened… what could happen, and it's driving me mad. ...But it's been a week and nothing has happened. You were probably right about whoever is responsible for this making their way down to the border. I reckon it's about time I accept that and move on."

Lucas nodded, taking a few steps towards his son. "It's alright to be careful, but I'm sure they're long gone by now. ...Are you sure that's all? It seems like something else has been weighing on you."

Mark thought for a long moment before coming up with an answer. "...I guess I'm upset with myself for the way I handled those rustlers."

"You thought they tried to kill me. ...You handled yourself better than I would have."

"...Doesn't make it right."

Lucas let out a heavy sigh as he nodded in understanding. "As long as you learn from your mistakes. No sense in wallowing in what can't be changed."

"I know. ...I better get the team hitched up if we're gonna be on time for the trial."


Friday, May 27, 1892
Future Jensen Homestead, New Mexico


"Well, that just about does it." Clay took a step back as he admired their handiwork. "I can't thank you enough for all your help, especially this time of year."

"You don't have to thank me... I was glad to help. ...You only get married once."

The young men regarded each other for a long moment before Clay finally shook his head. "Mark, we've known each other a long time. Long enough for me to know when something is bothering you. But in all this time, I've never once had to ask what that something was, because we've always been straightforward with each other."

Mark slowly nodded, putting his tools aside and taking a seat at the table; Clay following suit.

"...You're right. For ten years, I've trusted you to keep my secrets and to have my back. ...And I'm trusting you to do that again. ...But I want your word that what I'm about to say will never be repeated."

"Of course."

"No, Clay. I need your word. No one can know; especially not my pa."

Clay looked at Mark in concern as he nodded. "...You have my word."

Mark let out a heavy sigh, running his hand through his thick brown hair. "...I can't explain everything that's going on. ...But there's something that I have to do, and it's something I have no choice but to do on my own. ...I'll be leaving town after the wedding to take care of some things." Mark pulled an envelope from his pocket before going on. "If I'm not back by Thursday, I want you to take this to my pa."

"What do you mean, if you're not back? Where are you going?"

"...I can't tell you that."

"You can't tell me? You can't say something like that and then just-"

"Clay, that information might get you killed! I can't have another person's death hanging over my head, and I won't put your and Abigail's future in jeopardy!"

"Another person's death? What have you gotten yourself into?!"

"It doesn't matter! You're the only person I can trust with this; please just do what I asked!"

There was a long silence as the two friends stared at each other. Finally, the older of the two shook his head. "I can't, Mark. Not unless you tell me what's going on. Everything that's going on."

"I can't tell you everything! I just need you to trust me!"

"No! Not when you're like this- I know you too well! You've somehow gotten yourself into a heap of trouble, and I'm not just going to stand by while you try to figure your own way out of it! Give me one, just one good reason why I should let you go off and get yourself killed!"

"I never said I was going to get myself killed!"

"Then why are you giving me this?!" Clay demanded, smacking the envelope against the oak table as he rose to his feet. "You either tell me what's going on right now, or I'll take this to your pa!"

Mark sat there, trying to find an explanation; trying to come up with an excuse. ...But he knew that if he didn't tell Clay the truth, he wouldn't be able to protect anyone.

"Well?"

Mark closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath. "Sit down."

"Mark, I-"

"Just sit down!"

Clay hesitated before again taking a seat.

"...In the last three weeks, someone has made multiple attempts on my father's life. If I don't do this, Clay, that someone is going to kill my pa. ...No, I don't know if I'm going to get out of this alive or not. But I do know that if I don't act, my pa is going to die."

Clay stared at Mark for a long time; finally finding his voice. "...I'm going with you then."

"No you're not. Sunday night you're going to bring Abi home and start settling into married life."

"Abi will understand!"

"Abi can't be told! I've already taken a big enough risk telling you!"

"You can't-"

"Clay, I have to! I don't have any other choice! If I'm not there Sunday night, alone, they are going to kill my pa, and it will be MY FAULT!" Mark quieted; taking in a deep breath and slowly letting it out before continuing. "...If I don't come back, I need you to promise me that my pa will never find out the real reason I left."

Again, a heavy silence hung over the cabin as both men tried to swallow the emotions welling inside of them.

"...You better be here Thursday morning to pick up this stupid letter."

Mark waited, his eyes meeting Clay's before his friend nodded.

"Thank you." The deputy stood and started towards the door, but suddenly felt Clay grab his arm and turn him around.

"Mark… I-I've already buried three brothers. ...Don't you dare make me bury a fourth." Clay suddenly threw his arms around Mark, pulling him into a hug. "...I'd never forgive you."

Mark swallowed hard, pushing back the tears in his eyes. "...I'm sorry," he coarsely answered; briefly hesitating before stepping back and rushing out the door.


Sunday, May 29, 1892
North Fork, New Mexico


It was a beautiful spring evening that accompanied the reception for Clay and Abigail Jensen's wedding, but the weather was the last thing on Mark's mind. He looked through the crowd of guests before finally catching sight of Jeffrey Waller.

"Jeffrey?"

"Oh, hey, Mark! Me and Percy were just talking about going out to Clay's about midnight. You in?"

"Not tonight."

"Not tonight? When else are we gonna do it? No one else is going to be getting married any time soon!"

"Just not tonight, I have things to do."

"Oh, you on duty? I thought you didn't work Sundays."

"I've just got other things going. If I drop my rifle off at the shop tonight, would you mind looking it over sometime this week?"

"Well sure, but what do you think is wrong with it?"

"I'm not sure if anything is, but I'd appreciate it if you would just take a look at it. No rush, I can pick it up later this week."

"Sure thing. You can grab a loaner when you drop it off if you want."

"No thanks, I can use my .22 if I need to."

"Well, you know where the key is; unless you want me to take it now?"

"Thanks, I appreciate it."

"No problem." Seeing another one of their friends as he took the rifle, Jeffrey went on, "Oh, I've got to go talk to Freddie. Let us know if you change your mind!"

"Jeff, tonight really isn't…" Mark sighed as Jeffrey walked away. "A good night…"

Mark busied himself with the details of the reception for the rest of the evening; occasionally eyeing Clay and his pa. As the sun began setting, Mark started taking dishes into the hotel. He set another stack of plates in the sink and jumped as a voice sounded behind him.

"...Are we going to talk about it?"

Mark let out a deep breath as he turned around to answer his friend. "...We've spent all day together and avoided the subject pretty well. Don't see why we have to talk about it now."

"That's because we've hardly said two words to each other all day."

"...Shouldn't you be out there with Abigail?"

"Shouldn't my best man be out there with me?"

"...I'm sorry, Clay. And I'm sorry it has to be on your wedding day."

"...Only thing you should be sorry for is not telling me sooner. ...How long have you known?"

"...Little over a week. I… I figured there was no sense in worrying you about it any longer than necessary."

"...Is there anything I can do to talk you out if this?"

"You already know the answer to that."

"Are you sure they would be able to get to your pa, even if you were expecting them?"

Mark nodded. "He's already gotten to Pa four times without leaving a trace."

"...He? You know who it is?"

"I do."

"Then why don't you get the marshal involved and-"

"It's too much of a risk. ...I wouldn't be able to live with myself if he succeeded, and he killed Pa, and… and I had the opportunity to stop it."

"What if this man is lying? What if he kills your pa anyway?"

"...Then I'll know I did everything I could to keep that from happening."

"...I can't believe we're even having this conversation. I should go out there and tell your pa and the marshal what's going on. Neither one of them would let you go through with this insanity!"

"...That's why I came to you. You more than anyone can understand how much my pa means to me. You're the only person that can understand why I have to do this. ...You're the only person I know I can trust to keep this secret, no matter what happens. And I want you to know that I don't take that for granted."

"...You know, I was so busy yelling at you Friday I didn't get a chance to say thank you."

"...For what?"

"For always standing by me… for being the person I could trust. ...For being the reason I never felt alone. If it hadn't been for you, after the accident I… I don't know what I would've done."

"...That's what friendship is for. That's why ours lasted so long… we always stood by each other."

"...It isn't over yet."

"Stand," Mark corrected himself; faintly smiling. "...We always stand by each other."

The rest of the evening was a difficult one as Mark and Clay rejoined the festivities. As everyone was preparing to send the bride and groom off, Mark made himself scarce; knowing he couldn't put Clay through saying goodbye.

The deputy eventually found himself in the marshal's office; looking up as Micah entered the room a few minutes later.

"Your father is looking for you."

Mark nodded. "I reckon he's ready to get home. ...Micah, I have a favor to ask."

"What is it?"

"...I'm gettin' extra worried about Pa and… well, it's taking him longer to recover than he thought. Would you mind…?"

"It's about time you asked," the marshal answered. "Take as much time off as you want. I can handle things for a while."

"Thanks. Hopefully just for a few days."

"Not a problem. To be honest, I was getting worried about you stretching yourself a little thin between here, the ranch, your pa, and Clay's place. You could use the time off."

"Well I appreciate it. I'll see..." Mark stopped, suddenly realizing this could be the last time he spoke to the marshal. "...I'll see you later, Micah."

"Night."

Mark slowly made his way out of the office; looking up when he heard his name being called. He hurried over to the buckboard where Lucas was waiting.

"Sorry, Pa. Had some last-minute businesses with Micah."

"That's alright." As his son climbed up into the buckboard, Lucas realized Mark didn't have his Winchester. "Where's your rifle?"

"Left it with Jeffrey to look over. Something might be wrong with it." Mark released the break and snapped the reins, urging the horses forward. "...Do you think you'd be alright at the ranch for a few days? There are some things I need to help deal with and it might be best if I come back to town tonight."

"Things?"

"Marshal business… another escaped prisoner."

"I can drive myself back home if you need to stay."

"You still shouldn't be handling the team and I need to get BlueBoy, anyway. ...You're sure you'll be alright?"

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine."

Mark subconsciously let out a deep breath; everything was set. ...He just kept praying that his pa would be fine.