Friday, September 2, 1892
Chihuahua, Mexico


Stopping at several villages as they made their way farther south, Lucas was able to talk to some of the locals and eventually confirm that a man fitting Joseph Allen's description had been doing business in La Gregoria.

They had reached the outskirts of the town by late evening, but Mark watched Lucas unexpectedly bring Razor to a stop.

"What's wrong?"

Lucas turned towards his son, a stern expression on his face. "Neither of us know what's going to happen in there. But if I give you an order, you follow it without hesitation, you hear?"

"...Pa, I'm not a kid anymore, I can-"

"Then you're old enough to know that I don't give orders just to hear myself talk. I need you to trust me, Son. We're in a country we don't belong in, with no legal authority to back us up. If I tell you to do something, I need to know that you're going to do it. I don't care how much or little sense it makes. I just need you to trust me."

"...As long as you understand that we either get out of this together or-"

"Together," Lucas interrupted, knowing what his son had intended to say next. "We'll get out of this together."

The men made their way into the city, receiving several strange stares from the townsfolk. They dismounted in front of a comparatively large hotel, Mark following his father inside. They were greeted by a wary hotel clerk who couldn't keep his eyes off of Lucas's rifle.

As his pa tried to talk to the man, Mark looked around the establishment. He was impressed by the craftsmanship in the details of the building; it had been a long time since he'd seen anything like it.

Suddenly feeling a hand on his shoulder, Mark looked up at Lucas.

"Let's go."

Turning back to look at the clerk as they left the hotel, Mark asked what the man had said.

"Allen's been staying at the hotel off and on for the past few months. He's over at the cantina." As they stepped onto the street, Lucas pointed towards the building, but started walking in the other direction.

"Where are you going?"

"We can't just walk in there, Son. Not if we want to come back out alive. Allen's built a reputation in the area. He's brought a lot of good business to the town. People like him. People trust him. If you and me go in there and try to take him, we're going to be met by a bar full of angry men who won't think twice about defending Allen. We need to go through the proper channels."

Frustrated, but knowing what Lucas said was true, Mark heavily sighed before following his pa to what he assumed to be some sort of lawman's office. As they walked inside, Lucas and Mark were greeted by a man in uniform sitting behind the desk. Unable to understand anything that was being said, the young rancher watched as his pa and the man became more and more irritated with each other. Suddenly, Lucas stopped and turned towards his son.

"Mark, do you have your badge on you?"

"...My badge?"

"Yes, your deputy badge! Do you have it with you?"

"...Well it's in my saddle bag, but you said yourself that we don't have any-"

"Just go get it."

"...Alright."

Mark hurried down the street before returning to the office and handing the star to his pa. Lucas then tossed the badge onto the desk and spoke a few more words to the man; his tone indicating finality.

Mark watched as the Mexican picked up the badge, carefully looking it over. He finally turned back towards Lucas before nodding.

"Te ayudaré. Pero recuerda, usted es huéspedes en nuestro país. Ustedes dos se quedan aquí."

The lawman grabbed his shotgun and left the office, causing Mark to look at Lucas in confusion.

"What did he say? Where is he going?"

"He's going to arrest Allen."

Mark started towards the door, Lucas grabbing his son's arm and pulling him back. "Son, I don't want to even think about what trouble you would have gotten yourself into if you had come down here alone. Stay here, let the captain handle it."

"How do we know we can trust him? How do we know he's not going to warn Allen to get out of town?"

"If he does, we'll have him tracked down in no time. But we have to respect their ways and their laws. How do you think the people back home would react if you let some stranger walk into Sweeney's and take Mr. Argentez at gunpoint?"

Mark shook his head and dropped into a chair. "I guess I just don't have too much confidence in the law down here after some of the experiences we've had."

"I don't think this man wants a murderer out on his streets any more than we do."

"Didn't sound to me like he was too thrilled about cooperating with us."

"But he is."

Hardly two minutes had elapsed before the door swung open; the captain returning with Allen in tow.

"YOU!"

Mark stood to his feet as the man lunged towards him; Lucas stepping between the outlaw and his son as the other man restrained Allen.

"I'm gonna kill you, ya hear! If it's the last thing I do, I'm gonna kill you!"

The captain drug Allen towards the cells, locking him up before returning to the front office. Lucas exchanged a few more words with the man before turning to his son.

"Allen will stay here overnight, then we'll head out first thing tomorrow morning." Seeing the hesitancy in Mark's eyes, he went on, "It'll be alright. You and I could use a night's sleep in an actual bed. It'll be a long ride back to North Fork."


Saturday, September 3, 1892
La Gregoria, Mexico


Father and son were woken by a loud voice in the hall outside of their room. Mark walked up behind Lucas as his pa opened the door, concerned to see the captain standing there.

"Mis disculpas, Señor McCain," he began. "Pero Joseph escapó en medio de la noche. Lo acabo de descubrir desaparecido."

Lucas let out a heavy sigh, slamming his fist against the doorframe.

"Pa?"

Ignoring his son's question, Lucas turned towards the captain again. They went back and forth for a few minutes, both becoming visibly angry before the captain turned and walked away. The rancher shook his head and walked back inside the room, Mark shutting the door behind him.

"...Allen escaped, didn't he?"

Lucas nodded as he sat down on the bed and pulled his boots on.

"What now?"

"You and I are going to have to find him ourselves."

"You mean he let the man escape and isn't going to go after him?"

"The captain can't leave his post. I'm sure Allen is well out of the area by now."

"I told you we couldn't trust him! If we had-"

"Mark!"

Mark quieted, his face still showing the frustration he felt.

"We can't change what happened and we certainly don't have any cause to accuse the captain of helping Allen escape. Someone else was watching the jail last night and Allen somehow got ahold of their gun before knocking them out and locking them up. We can sit here all morning and complain or we can go find Allen. The choice is yours."

"...I'm sorry, Pa. He's getting inside my head and…" Mark let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head. "No excuse, I know. ...I know how quickly things can go wrong with a prisoner in custody. I just…"

"We'll find him, Mark. As long as we stay focused, we'll find him."

For the next several hours, father and son searched the area immediately surrounding La Gregoria. They stopped to rest around noon; the hot desert sun having drained the energy from them.

"Any ideas about where he could have gone?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Mark answered, wiping the sweat from his brow. "I can't…"

Lucas waited for his son to go on, but instead watched a strange look shadow his face. "...What is it?"

"...Hold on… don't move." Mark stood and returned to the horses, making it look like he was checking BlueBoy's shoe. He scanned the horizon from the corner of his eye before returning to Lucas and sitting down.

"Mark?"

"We need to split up."

"Split up? Son, that's the last thing-"

"Allen's watching us." Lucas started to turn around, but Mark stopped him. "Don't you see? Last night, Allen swore he was going to kill me. To do that without getting caught, he had to lure us out of town. Now he's waiting for the right opportunity… and we're going to give it to him."


Joseph Allen brought his horse to a stop as he saw one of the two distant figures fall from his saddle. The taller of the two men quickly dismounted, kneeling down beside the other. Allen watched as the scene played out, smiling as he saw Lucas help his son sit down beside a boulder. The man's smile grew even wider as the McCains realized they were out of water, forcing the rancher to mount up and ride out.

Allen quickly started towards his intended target, slowing as one simple thought crossed his mind. It was his brother's last piece of advice to him; advice that had kept him out of prison for the past three months.

Never trust appearances.

Diverting his horse, Allen took the long way around to a grouping of boulders that would eventually let out where the McCains had stopped. Seeing a horse ground tied where the rocks began, Joe dismounted and picked his way through the maze until he again saw that tall, blond figure in the distance. Smiling to himself, the man silently holstered his weapon and picked up a sizable rock; raising it above his head as he approached Lucas.

In one swift motion, Allen brought the object down on the rancher's skull. He tossed the rock aside before taking the Winchester from his victim, then continued through the unworn passage.

Finally stepping out from behind the last boulder, Allen cocked the rifle. "Quite an impressive firearm. I think I'll keep it."

Gripping his own rifle, Mark jumped to his feet and turned around to see his father's Winchester pointed straight at him.

"Drop the rifle."

Throwing his firearm aside, Mark set his jaw. "Where's my pa?"

"No need for you to worry yourself about that. In just a few minutes you'll be-"

"WHERE IS HE?!"

"Joining him," Allen finished, a cruel smiling crossing his face.

Without a second thought, Mark charged the man; Allen turning the rifle around and striking the deputy across the face. He then drove the butt of the rifle into the man's stomach, forcing him to the ground.

Mark attempted to push himself up, only to feel the entirety of Allen's weight drop on top of him. A strong hand suddenly grabbed his shoulder and turned him onto his back; Allen grabbing either end of the rifle before bringing it down on the deputy's neck.

"You really thought you could get the better of me?"

Allen's weight pinning his throat between the rifle and the ground, Mark struggled to breathe as he grabbed at the Winchester.

"We warned you! I warned you! And now you're going to pay!"

Mark suddenly reached up and began clawing Allen's face, but the pressure on his throat only increased. As his vision started to fade, the deputy could feel his strength beginning to wane.

"You're going to pay for killing my brother! YOU'RE GOING TO PAY!"


Ears ringing, heart pounding, Lucas stumbled through the web of boulders as he held the back of his head. He could hear voices in the distance; angry voices that belonged to Allen and his son. Finally making it to the clearing, Lucas's heart dropped as he saw his son's body falling limp underneath Allen's frame. The rancher lunged to where Mark's rifle lay in the dirt; firing before the stock reached his shoulder.

Lucas ran to his son and pushed Allen's body aside before grabbing his son by the shoulders.

"Mark, wake up! Wake up, Son! MARK!" Laying his son on the ground again, Lucas desperately looked to Mark's chest in hopes of seeing some sign of life. Unable to tell if his son was breathing or not, the man ran to BlueBoy and retrieved a canteen; dropping to his knees as he poured its contents onto his son's face.

In a matter of seconds, Mark bolted upright; coughing and sputtering as he gasped for breath. Suddenly feeling someone grab him, Mark instinctively pushed them away as he struggled to pull himself in the opposite direction.

"Mark, it's alright! It's me!"

Relaxing as he recognized his pa's voice, Mark collapsed onto the ground as he struggled to get a full breath. The young man rolled onto his back and painfully took in the next gulp of air as he cupped his hand around his throat. Lucas helped his son sit up; Mark collapsing against his pa's chest.

"Just breathe, Son, breathe…"

In time, Mark finally felt his struggle to breathe lessen and uneasily sat up as he looked to his pa. He opened his mouth to speak, making several attempts before a coarse, broken whisper came out. "...Al… Alle-n?"

"Dead," Lucas answered, pointing to the prone body across from them.

Mark started to lay back down, but suddenly caught sight of the back of Lucas's head.

"Pa… you… you-'re… bl…"

"Don't try to talk, you'll only make it worse." Lucas touched his head, then looked down at the blood on his hand. "Guess that's what I get for not watching my back..." Lucas again touched his skull, grimacing in pain.

"...Here," Mark hoarsely replied, reaching for the canteen.

Lucas hesitantly handed the container to his son. Mark used what little water was left to clean up his pa's injury before tying a handkerchief in place to stop the bleeding. Finally, father and son retreated to the shade of the boulders, silently staring out into the horizon.


Sunday, September 4, 1892
Desert Country, Mexico


Mark woke to see Lucas sitting by the fire, sipping his coffee. As the deputy got out of his bedroll, his gaze fell on Allen's grave of rocks in the distance. He shook his head and started across camp.

"...Pa?"

Lucas turned at the sound of his son's voice. It was still coarse, but not quite as much of a whisper as it had been the day before. "Didn't mean to wake you," he answered, moving so his son could sit beside him.

"You didn't." A few moments passed; Mark hesitating to go on. "...Pa, I… I thought he killed you."

"...I thought he killed you."

"...Do you know…" Mark cleared his throat before going on, "How he figured it out?"

Lucas shook his head. "I suppose that one will always be a mystery."

Father and son both looked out across the land; several moments passing before Mark broke the silence.

"Thank you."

Lucas turned to his son as his brow furrowed in confusion. "For what?"

"...Being there. For always being there."

The rancher shook his head, smiling as he put an arm around his son's shoulders. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be."


Wednesday, September 6, 1892
North Fork, New Mexico


Micah glanced out the window to see the McCains riding up to Doc's. He hurried out the office, walking toward the men as he called after them.

"Lucas? Mark?"

Lucas turned around and acknowledged the marshal. "Micah," he wearily replied.

"What happened? You look like-" The man stopped short as he saw Mark step out from behind his pa. "Boy, what happened to you?!"

"Good to see you too, Micah," Mark answered in a hoarse voice.

"We'll explain inside." Lucas motioned for the marshal to follow them as father and son headed towards the doctor's office.

As they stepped inside, Doc Burrage looked up from his desk; shock covering his face. "Mark McCain, what trouble did you get yourself into?"

Lucas and Mark both took a seat as the younger of the two replied. "We went after Joseph Allen and things didn't go quite as planned. You should look at Pa's head; Allen tried to bash it in."

The doctor looked between the two, unsure of who to start with.

"I'm fine. Mark lost consciousness after Allen tried strangling him."

The doctor stepped towards the deputy and gently began examining his neck, causing Mark to grimace in pain.

"With what, a pipe? I don't know if I've ever seen bruises from strangulation that look quite like this."

"Pa's rifle," he coarsely answered.

"Maybe one of you ought to start at the beginning," Micah stated; shaking his head as he dropped into a chair.

As the doctor examined his two patients, father and son explained what had happened; Lucas doing most of the talking. By the end, doctor and marshal were staring at the other two men in disbelief and disapproval.

"It's a miracle either one of you are alive," Burrage declared.

"I oughta lock the both of you up. Mark, when you said you were going after Allen, you didn't say you were going to leave the country!"

"We made it back in one piece, didn't we?"

"Barely," the doctor mused.

"Lucas, I can't believe you went along with this!"

The rancher looked to his son, smiling. "He didn't really give me much of a choice."

"Doc," Mark began, "When can I stand shift again?"

"I'd say about a week or so. I want you to rest your voice as much as possible between now and then; give everything time to heal. Lucas, you take it easy for two or three weeks. I don't know how you survived that attack."

"I will. Are we free to go?"

"Against my better judgement, yes."

"Micah…"

"I'll be out in the morning to finish yelling at the two of you. Get on home and get some rest."

"Have a good night."

Lucas and Mark made their way back to the horses and mounted up again before heading towards the ranch. About two-thirds of the way home, Mark started to turn BlueBoy down another road.

"I'm going to let Clay know I'm still alive. I'll be home in a while."

"Sure, leave the cooking to me," Lucas jested.

"Well if you want me to cook, I'll gladly let you do the dishes."

"I'll see you when you get home." The rancher answered with a smile, waving as he continued down the path.


Thursday, December 22, 1892
North Fork, New Mexico


Lucas entered the marshal's office to find his son at the desk laughing as Clay dropped into a chair and buried his head in his hands. He looked between the two, raising an eyebrow while he waited for an explanation.

"...Something wrong, Clay?"

The young man slowly shook his head, staring at the ground. "Twins," he whispered; sending Mark into another bout of laughter.

"You better be careful, Son," Lucas warned. "Who knows what trouble you'll get yourself into when you finally get around to starting a family."

Mark shook his head before taking his feet down from the desk and sitting up. "Come on, Clay. It won't be that bad. Besides, double the work now means double the help a few years down the road."

"Then I'm sure you won't mind me sending them over to "Uncle Mark's" every now and again for a few days."

"How much trouble could they be?"

Lucas and Clay looked at each other; Clay again dropping his head as Lucas laughed.

"What? I remember when we took care of Fancy. We got her back to Leona in one piece, didn't we?"

"I've got to get going; Abi's bound to be done at the dress shop by now." Clay stood and started out the door.

"See you tomorrow," Mark called.

"If I survive that long…"

As the door shut behind Clay, father and son both let out a small chuckle.

"When is Abi due?" Lucas asked.

"End of April. Clay's more nervous than I've ever seen him."

"I don't blame him. Husband with a young wife and two babies on the way… the weather dictating the type of crop he gets… takes a lot of faith."

Mark nodded in agreement before looking at his pa in confusion. "What brings you into town? I thought you were staying at the ranch today."

"That was my plan, but I ran out of a few supplies… and I needed to talk to you."

"...Talk to me? About what?"

"You know, I was serious about what I said… you really should be careful about teasing Clay." Lucas reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter he had found on the floor that morning, a devilish smile slowly making its way onto his face. "You uh… never know what trouble you're going to get yourself into…"

"Where did you- give that back!"

Lucas started out the door, taking the letter with him.

"Pa! PA!"


The End


Thanks for reading! Please let me know in the comments if you prefer to have stories posted in one file or multiple chapters. I will also be the first to admit that Spanish is not my first language, so if a correction needs to be made, please let me know!