Brother Against Brother

by Bluebird0032

Mark visits his pa's estranged brother and quickly finds himself caught in the middle of repercussions from their past. — Rated T for violence.

Brother Against Brother

"Well can I?"

Mark stood behind his pa's chair, eagerly anticipating an answer. Lucas's demeanor starkly contrasted his son's excitement. He stared at the letter Mark had brought home, trying to push the memories away as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"...You have school, Son."

"But Miss Pritchard has to go back East for two weeks, remember? I wouldn't miss anything."

"I don't think it's a good idea. That's a long way for you to travel on your own."

"I stopped at the depot before I came home, and I'd only have to change trains twice; once in Albuquerque and then again in Dallas. And the wait between trains is less than an hour- I wouldn't leave the stations. Then Uncle David and Aunt Susannah could meet me at the station in Houston."

Lucas let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his hair. Starting to recognize his pa's hesitation, Mark walked to the table and pulled out a chair, taking a seat across from Lucas.

"...What is it?"

"Son…" Lucas shook his head. He sat up, leaning forward as he spoke. "When you first asked to start writing my brother, I wanted to say no. ...But then I remembered your Grandpa Gibbs. And as much as I dislike the man, I recognize that I denied you the opportunity to become acquainted with your only surviving grandparent. No, David isn't your only uncle, but he's still your uncle and I realized it wouldn't be fair of me to deny you that relationship. But the fact of the matter is, there's history between us and I'm not entirely sure I trust him to look after your best interests."

"...With all due respect, I'm sixteen. I think you've raised me well enough to look after my own interests, haven't you? And just because one… or maybe both of you made a mistake in the past, that doesn't mean he couldn't have changed. You say all the time how much you changed after marrying Ma."

"...True enough."

"And aren't you still denying me the opportunity to really get to know him if you don't let me go? How much of a relationship can we really have if we only write? I've never even met the man before. ...Which I guess might be the point, but… I'll only be there a few days. You really think he could undo sixteen years of your rearing in a little over a week's time?"

Lucas considered his son's words, pitting them against his own reservations. Maybe he was holding onto too much of the past. Maybe David had changed. Why else would he invite Mark to Houston?

"...Give me a day or two to think it over. We'll wire your uncle an answer by the end of the week."

"Thanks, Pa."

"I'm not promising anything."

"I know. ...I had a question about school, too."

"What about it?"

"I know the school board hired Miss Pritchard so us older students could continue our studies in preparation for college, but… well what's the point if I'm not going?"

"When did you come to that conclusion?" Lucas asked in surprise.

"I guess I've just come to realize it over the last year or so. I'd rather stay here and work the ranch with you."

"If you're sure that's what you want to do, Son, I'd be mighty pleased to have you stick around. But to answer your question, your ma wanted you to have a good education, and completing your studies will leave you better prepared for the future."

"...It's just that Percy will be going out east in the fall and that leaves me almost two years older than the next student."

"Mark, don't forget that you only have a little more than a year or so of that 'growing up time' left. Don't waste it. As soon as you put the books away, life has a way of thrusting you into manhood."

"I wouldn't mind it."

"Well I would." Lucas answered with a faint smile, refraining from referring to Mark as his 'little boy.' "I'm not ready to admit I'm old enough to have a grown son yet. Enjoy the time you have left, it'll be gone soon enough."

"Well I don't think I rightly agree with that, but I hear you."

"One day you'll look back and understand. Until then, why don't you get started on your homework while I get supper going?"

"Alright."

---

"Lucas-boy, what brings you into town?"

Lucas looked up from the telegram he held to see Micah entering the telegraph office. He shook his head, letting out a heavy sigh. "My brother."

"Your brother? I didn't know you had family visiting."

"I don't. Mark's been invited to stay with my brother and his wife at their ranch in Houston."

"By the look on your face I take it that's a problem?"

"I don't know. That's what I'm trying to find out. I've been sending wires all day trying to decide if I'm going to let Mark go or not."

"Mind me asking what has you so hesitant?"

Lucas shook his head no as the two started making their way to the marshal's office next door.

"David and I were close growing up. Seven years between us, but I reckon he was the best friend I had. He let me do everything with him. Hunting, trapping, fishing… even let me follow him and his friends around. Even as I got older I looked up to David a great deal, so I sure didn't understand it or listen to my father when he told me to stop spending time around my brother and his friends. We didn't see eye to eye about everything, but we were always there for each other. Then when my mother died… things became even more strained between my father and me. Three months after her passing, David decided to move south and, against my father's wishes, invited me to go with him. At sixteen I thought I knew everything there was to know about life and took off without a second thought. I take responsibility for my own actions, but the decision to go with David… it got me into trouble I didn't deserve to get out of. ...I did things I still regret and maybe still owe a debt for." Lucas paused, taking a seat at Micah's desk as the marshal poured two cups of coffee. "...As much as I joined the army to fight for what I believed was right, I have to admit that I also joined with the hopes of redeeming myself. And that was the only reason I saw David again. It was three years after my mother died, at the Battle of Antietam. We found ourselves looking down each other's barrels, frozen in shock as we realized who we were aiming at. We stood there staring at each other as the bloodiest battle of the war continued to rage around us. ...It wasn't until that day that I had a clear understanding of what the war was really costing us as a country… as a people. I had to stand there with my rifle shouldered as I watched my brother back away. I would have never taken a shot, but I don't think he knew that. ...I surely didn't trust him enough to turn my back or even lower my rifle."

"...There must be more if you're thinking about allowing Mark to go to Houston."

"I wanted to tell him no. I tried to. But as Mark pointed out, people change. I've changed. And based on these…" Lucas pulled several telegrams from his shirt pocket and tossed them onto the desk. "It seems that David has changed. I still can't help but hesitate."

"Only natural after your past. ...But are you sure some of that hesitation isn't… 'growing pains?' You have to let the boy go some time."

"I know. Mark's growing up… he has grown up and there's not much I can do about that. Maybe I'm assuming the worst in thinking that he'll somehow get hurt if I let him go."

"Maybe?"

"Alright, so I am."

"Why don't you go with him? Stay on for a day or two?"

Lucas shook his head. "Mark was the only one invited and I can't take the time away from the ranch or afford two train fares."

"...So what are you going to do?"

"I don't know… if only-"

Lucas was interrupted as the door to the office suddenly swung open and his son entered the room.

"Micah, Doc's out, do you have any…" Mark quieted as he realized who was sitting at the marshal's desk. "...Pa? What are you doing in town?"

"Never mind me, what'd you do? Get in a fight?" Lucas stood, taking his son's chin in his hand to get a better look at the injury.

"No, Sir."

"That's quite a shiner for someone who didn't get in a fight."

"It's not that I got in a fight, but Miss Pritchard needed help breaking up one."

Micah retrieved a bottle of arnica from the desk and handed it to Mark. "Wally and Jeff at it again?"

"No," he replied, starting to apply the ointment to his bruising cheek.

"Well then who was it?"

Mark hesitated before letting out a heavy sigh. "In my defense, I wasn't expecting it and I still helped Miss Pritchard put a stop to their fighting. It looks worse than it is."

"What'd you do, let a girl hit you?" Micah teased.

"...What else was I supposed to do? It's not like I could've hit her back." Mark rolled his eyes as Micah and Lucas let out a long bout of laughter. "I have to get back."

"You still didn't tell us who it was," Lucas said, catching his son's arm.

"...Amanda Green and Josephine Snyder." Mark ignored the chuckles as he went on, "Pa, are you gonna be in town long or should I head home after school?"

"I have a few errands to run, but I should be done by the time you're out. I'll stop by the school and we can ride home together."

"Alright. Bye, Micah." Mark set the arnica on the desk and left the office.

Micah let out another short laugh, shaking his head. "Amanda Green… that little lady is something else."

"Being the youngest of nine and having five older brothers, I'm sure how to throw a right hook isn't the only thing she's learned. It's Josephine I'm surprised at."

"Certainly wouldn't have expected her to get into a fight." The marshal sat down at his desk as he went on, "So back to your problem."

"...I suppose it's not much of a problem. I can't find a good reason to keep Mark from going… but there's something inside of me that wants to."

"I would think Mark respects you enough to understand if you said no."

"I know he would honor my decision, but I don't think he would understand. I've always taught Mark the value of second chances. I suppose it's time I give my brother one."

"Mark is old enough to stand on his own two feet if anything did happen. But I'm sure it will be fine."

Lucas nodded as he started making his way to the door. "I better get going. See you Sunday."

"Bye, Lucas-boy."

After finishing his errands around town, Lucas rode to the schoolhouse and waited for Miss Pritchard to dismiss her pupils. Mark was the last student to emerge from the building and seemed quiet as he approached Lucas and mounted BlueBoy.

"Everything alright, Son?"

"It will be."

"What's wrong?"

"What's wrong is that I can't punch a girl even if she hits me. I don't think I'm ever gonna live this down."

Lucas chuckled, shaking his head as father and son started making their way home. "Well, I'm sure by the time you get back from Houston, everyone will have forgotten about it."

"Houston?" Mark whipped his head around to look at his pa. "You mean I can go?"

Lucas nodded. "I wired your uncle before leaving town. You'll leave early next Saturday morning and get in Sunday afternoon."

"Thanks, Pa. It means a lot."

"...I know."

"...You still seem hesitant…?"

"I am. But regardless of how much my brother has or hasn't changed, I know you'll do right. I hope you enjoy your time."

---

The following week, Lucas stood in the bedroom doorway as he watched his son close his carpet bag.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

Mark looked around before turning back towards his pa. "...I don't think so?"

"Your tie?"

"Oh, yeah… my tie…"

Lucas chuckled as Mark retrieved the item from the dresser.

"Whoever thought making men tie a piece of fabric around their neck was a good idea in the first place? Every other piece of clothing has a purpose. This…" Mark shook his head as he dropped his tie inside the bag. "It's just a waste of money and time if you ask me."

"Make sure you put that thing to use."

"I will."

Lucas hesitated before motioning for his son to follow him. "...Let's go out to the porch."

Father and son walked outside, both taking a seat on opposite sides of the porch steps.

"If this is about me helping out while I'm there…"

Lucas shook his head, letting out a heavy sigh. "No, Son, it's not. I know you'll pull your weight and mind your manners. It's been a long time since I've had to lecture you about that. The history between David and me is just that… history. There's no sense in roping you into all that and you've got to make up your own mind about the man. But I do want you to be prepared, because your uncle may have some ideas that are a great deal different than the principles I've raised you with. Some of those may simply be different, while others may be wrong. I hope he's changed, so I'm not going to suggest what those principles might be. But I want you to take a good look at what you see out there and determine for yourself what's right, what's wrong, and what's different. ...Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir. ...How long has it been since you've seen Uncle David?"

Lucas looked out across the land, thinking back to the war. "...Too long."

"It's still not too late for you to go with me."

"No…" Lucas gave a small smile as he patted his son's shoulder. "We best not upset your aunt with a surprise visitor."

"...You think maybe one day we could invite them here?"

"...I would hope so."

"How about Thanksgiving?"

"One thing at a time," Lucas chuckled. "We'll see how this trip goes, first. ...We best turn in, we have an early morning ahead of us."

Lucas started to stand, but Mark's voice stopped him.

"...Pa?"

"Yes, Son?"

"...My rifle. Do you think I should take it?"

Lucas took in a deep breath as he looked towards the house. "...You're going to be working the range while you're there, aren't you?"

"But that's not why I'm asking."

Lucas sighed as he again turned to his son. He knew why Mark was asking, and was even more aware of the fact that his asking was a courtesy. They both knew Mark was very capable of handling his rifle. But watching his son leave, knowing the responsibility Mark would carry onto that train, was just one more growing pain this trip would bring on for Lucas.

"I wish it was, Son. I had hoped that by now, the world would be a safe enough place that you didn't have to think about asking such a question. ...I don't think anything will happen, but I want you to take it, as a precaution. Remember what I've taught you, and you'll never be sorry you have it with you."

---

Mark stretched his frame before settling back into his seat. Looking out the window as the land rushed by, his thoughts were once again drawn to the previous morning. He was excited to be visiting his aunt and uncle, but he couldn't stop thinking about the look that had been on Lucas's face as the train pulled out of the station. His pa had looked so distant, so lost… and yet at the same time, almost angry. Mark didn't understand why his pa had given him permission to go if the trip bothered him so much.

As the hours passed, the young man tried to dismiss his own curiosities. He had respected his father's decision to leave the past in the past and hadn't asked unnecessary questions, but now he couldn't help but wonder what had gone so wrong between the two brothers.

That afternoon, the conductor came through the car to announce that the train would stop at the Houston station in five minutes. Mark started to collect his belongings, eager anticipation returning once again. As the train rolled into the station, he looked out the window, surprised by the crowd at the depot.

Mark was one of the last passengers to step off the train. Making his way to the east side of the platform, the young man scanned the crowd for anyone who fit the description of his aunt and uncle. Mark started to become more uncomfortable as the crowd began to thin out; worried his relatives might have forgotten the time of his arrival. But at long last, a booming voice called out behind him.

"Mark McCain?"

Mark spun around to see a man and woman making their way towards him; a smile sweeping across his face as he went to meet them.

"Uncle David?"

"Boy, it sure is good to finally meet you!" The short, stout man shook hands with his nephew before introducing his wife. "This is your Aunt Susannah."

"A pleasure, ma'am," Mark greeted, removing his hat.

"Oh, posh!" The woman exclaimed, giving Mark a hug. "No need for formalities!"

"Boy-howdy, I woulda never expected a son of my brother to have such manners," David laughed. "Course, I'm sure your mother had a lot to do with that."

"Yes sir," Mark answered with a small smile. "Pa always says how she wanted me raised proper."

"Our rig is just over there." Mark turned to where his uncle had gestured to see a man standing beside his buggy. "Chester, come take the boy's bag."

"That's alright, I can carry it," Mark quickly answered.

"Suit yourself." David began leading the way to the rig as he commented, "I see you carry a rifle. You have something against six-guns?"

"...They're alright for trick shooting, but a rifle's more practical on the range."

"On the range, yes. But what's your pa expecting you to do if you run into trouble anywhere else?"

"A rifle has suited him fine all these years, I reckon I don't need anything different."

"...Don't tell me he's still lugging that Starr carbine around."

"No sir," Mark answered, climbing up into the buggy. "He uses a Winchester .44-40; designed some special modifications for it, too."

"Luke and his ideas," David grumbled, shaking his head as he helped his wife into the buggy. He then climbed in behind her, turning to the other man as he went on. "Back to the ranch, Chester." As the horses started forward, David addressed his nephew again, "It looks like we'll have to expose you to some real guns while you're out here, then."

"One firearm is just as deadly as the next. As for handguns, I've seen plenty of them. ...Too many of them. I guess that's why I finally stopped pestering Pa about me getting one."

"The way you talk, it's like you think shooting a six-gun is sure death," David chuckled. "No reason you can't have a little fun. You said yourself they're good for trick shooting."

"That's true. I knew a man once, name was Tip Corey… he could draw and shoot faster than the eye could see and do all sorts of tricks. He worked with Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show for a few years."

"Exactly."

"How was the trip?" Susannah inquired. "Not too tiring, I hope."

"Oh, no ma'am." Mark chuckled as he went on, "When you're used to traveling across the country riding on horses and sleeping in bedrolls, taking the train is far from tiring. I might almost argue the seats on the train were more comfortable than my bunk at home!"

David let out a bout of laughter. "And you were worried about him being uncomfortable. Mark, your aunt has been fussing all week to get your room ready. Replacing mattresses, hanging new curtains…"

"You shouldn't have gone to all that trouble."

"It was no trouble at all. Your uncle simply doesn't have an appreciation for the little things that make a house a home."

Over a half hour after passing through the gate of the McCain Ranch, the buggy finally arrived at the homestead. A woman came out of the large house to greet them and take packages from the buggy inside.

"Can I help you put away the team?" Mark asked of his uncle.

"Chester will see to the team. Why don't we show you to your room and let you get unpacked?"

Mark followed his aunt and uncle through the house, stopping in the doorway of the room he was to stay in.

"Is something the matter?" Susannah asked.

"No ma'am," he quickly answered. "I just don't know if I've ever seen a bedroom so… big. You could almost fit our whole cabin in here!"

David and Susannah chuckled at the amazement in Mark's eyes.

"This was the room we built for our boys after the first house burned down," Susannah explained. "Now that they're all married off, we use it as a guest room."

"I guess it wouldn't seem so big if there were seven other people to share it with." Mark chuckled as he walked inside and set his carpet bag by the foot of the bed.

"We'll leave you to it, then. I have some work to do on the range, let your aunt know if you need anything."

"Thank you both for letting me come."

"Our pleasure."

That evening, Mark enjoyed getting acquainted with his aunt and uncle. As they conversed, he couldn't help but see the stark contrasts between his uncle and father. As different as he was realizing they were, however, Mark also noticed the things they had in common. While his uncle spoke with greater volume and enthusiasm than his pa, they both had a tendency to emphasize certain syllables of particular words. Though there was a good six inches difference in their height, not to mention the extra weight David wore, the brothers carried themselves in the same way. And while he knew it wasn't an uncommon trait, Mark noticed that like his pa, David always knew where his firearm was.

After supper, David took his nephew out to the barn to look at the horses. He showed Mark the colts first, then moved onto the other horses.

"You sure know a thing or two about horses," David commented after watching Mark for a few minutes.

"Pa taught me a lot and I picked up the rest from the ranchers and liverymen around town. Well, them and Marshal Buckhart. He's taught me a few things over the years when he stops by to visit or passes through on business."

"Buckhart? Sounds like an Indian name."

"It is, he's an Apache. Chiricahua Apache I think."

"I thought you said he was a marshal."

"He is. Went to Harvard, too."

"An Indian marshal? What is this world coming to?"

Mark stared at his uncle in surprise for a moment, suddenly feeling guilty as he remembered his ten-year-old self asking the same question.

"...Marshal Buckhart is one of the best marshals I've ever known… and I don't think he'd be such a great marshal if it wasn't for everything he learned from his people."

"Everything he learned," David mused. "I shouldn't be surprised that your pa would let you keep company with someone like him. Lucas always was a…" The man stopped, shaking his head. "Don't matter, anyway."

"...I think you might've been inclined to do the same if the man had helped you save your son's life."

"Saved your life?"

Mark nodded. "Pa had been attacked, and I was taken. Marshal Buckhart helped track the men that took me. Pa told me later that he never would have been able to find me if it hadn't been for Sam. Me and a lot of other people are beholden to the marshal for things he's done."

"Maybe so, but an Indian's still an Indian. Marshal's badge or not. Harvard or not."

"...And with all due respect, a man is a man, with or without an education, with or without a title."

David took in a deep breath before slowly letting it out. "Well, I see your pa's filled your head with his unconventional ideas."

"...Maybe they are unconventional. But I think unconventional ideas are what this country was founded on."

---

Mark was apprehensive about what breakfast would be like the following morning, but David didn't give any indication that he was bothered by their exchange the night before. They had conversation as normal before David invited Mark to the barn to pick out a horse for the day. Mark selected the bay steeldust, remembering how close he and his pa had been to owning one a few years prior.

"Fine choice," David commented. "That's a fine breed."

"It's been a long time since I've seen a horse like this. She's a beauty."

David nodded before telling Chester to saddle the horses.

"I don't mind saddling mine," Mark stated.

"That's what he gets paid for. Let's go back in and see what Grace has for our lunch."

Mark hesitantly followed his uncle back to the house where they found the cook waiting with sandwiches and canteens. Mark excused himself to get his rifle from the bedroom, returning to the front room to see his uncle strapping on his gun belt.

"I have an extra pair," David offered, gesturing to the guns laying on the table.

"...I better stick to what I know."

"Suit yourself. But sometime this week I want you to try them out, just for fun."

"...Alright."

"Grace, when you and Mrs. McCain go to the Gregory's, be sure to take that spool of wire with you."

"Yes sir."

David once again led the way outside where Chester had the horses waiting. Uncle and nephew mounted up before riding out to the range. Before long, David was laughing at the look in Mark's eyes.

"Property a little big?"

"...It's not that; Pa and I are just a few hundred acres shy of you. It's all this cattle! You can't possibly take care of this all on your own?"

"No," he chuckled. "You'll see the hands scattered across the property throughout the day. Most of 'em all have families and live closer to town, so they all ride in about eight every morning."

"How long have you been in the cattle business?"

"...It'd be twenty years or more, now. After the war… well, we all had to start over and ranching was what I settled on. Started with twenty head and this is where a lot of hard work has gotten me."

Mark shook his head as he again looked out at the sea of cattle. Suddenly noticing a calf taking off for a break in the fence, Mark pointed it out to his uncle.

"Want me to go after it?"

"Go right ahead!"

Mark worked the cattle with his uncle the rest of that morning. He hadn't ever worked with a heard so big, and it reignited the fire for ranching deep inside of the young man. Over lunch, Mark enjoyed hearing some stories about his pa that Lucas would have never told him about. Though he kept his questions to himself, the way his uncle talked only reinforced the curiosity Mark had about why the brothers were at odds. Even though the stories seemed to be told in fun, there was always a hint of animosity in David's tone when he talked about his brother. As conversation began to wane, Mark took the opportunity to change the subject.

"...Uncle David, what do you remember about my ma?"

"Your ma?"

"Yeah. I don't get to talk to people very often that knew her. I don't really remember much, and while Pa tells me about her… it helps to hear other people talk about her."

David looked at his nephew curiously for a few moments before answering. "I wish I could be of some help to you, but I never knew your ma. I heard Lucas got hitched… but until what you said at the train station… I wasn't entirely sure if she was still around or not."

"You never…" Mark quieted as his brow furrowed. "...Just how long has it been since you and my pa have seen each other?"

"You mean he didn't tell you? He sent you all the way out here and didn't say a word?"

"...I'm not entirely sure if I know what you're talking about, but Pa wanted to leave the past in the past. Didn't want me to get involved."

"Well I never…" David laughed, shaking his head. "I was surprised that Lucas let you come in the first place, but I was sure he was gonna tell you all sorts of things and set you against me before ya left."

"...My pa's a fair man. Said he wanted me to make up my own mind about you."

"...That's surprising. To answer your question, the last time I saw him was September seventeenth, eighteen-sixty-two."

"Eighteen-sixty… the war? You fought in the war together?"

"Together isn't the word I would use. Your pa and I were both at the Battle of Antietam. Problem was, we were on opposing sides."

"You mean you were…"

"Yes, I fought for the confederacy. Can't say I'm necessarily proud of it now, but every man had to choose a side and I chose the losing side."

"...So that's why you and pa never talked again?"

David shook his head. "Us standing there, aiming at each other, was pretty telling about where our relationship stood, but I think we could've forgotten about that day. In one way or another, we've all had to put the war aside and move on as a country. ...But I think what your pa said was right. It's best to leave the past in the past… no sense in putting you in the middle of our… differences."

Mark slowly nodded. Part of him wanted to know everything, but deep down, he had the feeling that it was best to leave well enough alone.

"Well, we better get back to work," David declared as he stood. "Grace is making fried chicken for supper and we don't want to be late for that."

"No Sir!"

---

As he got to know his uncle and aunt over the next several days, Mark kept in mind what his pa had told him before he left. Some of their ideals were right, some were what he considered wrong, and others were simply different. Though Mark was careful to respect his hosts, David openly welcomed discussion and debate about his nephew's differing opinions. The young man appreciated the fact that they could disagree and still get along, and that his uncle treated him as an equal instead of a child.

Friday evening, Mark was in the barn looking over the horses when Chester entered the building.

"I'm sorry," the man apologized. "Didn't know nobody was in here; I don't mean to disturb you."

"You don't need to apologize," Mark answered in confusion as he looked at the man curiously. He hadn't been able to talk to Chester at all since his arrival; something he suspected his uncle had arranged. "You've got as much right to be in here as I do."

"I'll just be getting the team and I'll be out of your way."

"Can I help you hitch them?"

"That's alright."

Mark quickly realized that the man wouldn't have taken him up on the offer even if he wanted to. He stepped out of the stall he was in and began helping Chester with the horses as he asked, "Where are you headed so late?"

"...Mr. McCain's given me and Grace tonight and tomorrow off… I've been saving a real long time to take her to one of them hotels in town and Mr. McCain was kind enough to let us borrow his team and wagon."

"So you are married?"

"We reckon about forty years now."

"Do you have any children?" Mark watched as the man's eyes grew distant and sad. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"No, that's fine… it's a natural question. Five… five children." Chester could see the question in Mark's eyes. Knowing the boy was too polite to ask, the man went on, "Facts are that we was slaves once. Which means our kin was, too. You understand what I'm telling you, Son?"

"Yes sir. I'm sorry."

"Wasn't nothing you did to cause it. ...I've been thinking about the things you've been saying to your uncle. You stick to the path you're on, you'll turn out just fine. I think the world needs more people like you."

"...Mr. Chester, you ever think about going somewhere else? Starting over somewhere?"

"...There's no place for someone like me to start over. Not yet, anyway. Mr. McCain treats us fair and… well, that's all a man could ever ask for. Saw us on the street one day and offered us jobs. Especially when you get to being our age… there's no sense in thinking about trying to make a home somewheres else."

"...Well if you ever change your mind, I'd tell you to try North Fork, New Mexico. People there aren't perfect, but that's the same no matter where you go. And my pa and me would consider it a pleasure to help you anyway we could."

"I appreciate it, boy." The man chuckled at the sentiment before quieting. "...I've been wanting to ask you a question, if you don't mind."

"Course not."

"...That first day you came… you mentioned a Tip Corey. I have a nephew by that name, but I haven't seen him or my brother since Thomas… Tip, was just a little boy. ...You know anything about where he is now?"

Mark hesitated before slowly looking up at the man. "... I'm sorry, Mr. Chester. ...Tip died a few years ago."

"...What happened?"

Mark wasn't sure how to answer.

"I know he's killed a few men in his time, if that's what you're afraid to say."

"...No sir. It's just that… well, my pa had to kill him. Tip gave him no choice."

"...Care to explain any more?"

"...My pa was standing in for our marshal and Tip wanted my pa to give up his badge. A long time ago, Tip's pa was killed in North Fork and he blamed the law. My pa… he doesn't compromise on his principles. So when Tip went for his gun… it was self defense, Mr. Chester."

"I see. ...Was he buried in North Fork?"

"There's a graveyard a few miles out of town, just behind our ranch. We buried him beside his pa… I still put flowers on their graves."

"Well thank you. Maybe one day Grace and me will have to pay you a visit and do the same."

A few minutes later, Mark was standing on the porch and waving goodbye as Mr. and Mrs. Corey drove away. He leaned against the railing and let out a heavy sigh, looking out across the land.

"You still out here?" David asked as he came from the house. "Thought you would've turned in a while ago after the day you put in."

"No, I was in the barn with the horses and then I got to talking to Mr. Chester."

"You know you don't have to call him mister."

"...Until he tells me otherwise, it's only respectful."

"He don't care." Wanting to change the subject, David went on, "I'm thinking tomorrow would be a good day to take you up to the east range and let you give those handguns a try."

"...Sounds good."

"You ever shot a handgun?"

"No, I… I reckon I haven't."

"You sound nervous," David laughed.

"...It's just that the closest I ever came to firing one, I could've killed a man."

"What do you mean?"

"I had a Colt aimed at a man threatening to shoot a friend of ours. Our friend told me it wasn't loaded… but come to find out, it was. Thankfully my pa showed up in time."

"Why would he tell you it wasn't loaded?"

"I'll never forget what he said when I asked him that same question." Mark's eyes became distant as he remembered back. "...'We've just come through a bloody war, Mark… with boys not much older than you finding out whether they could or couldn't pull a trigger. ...Something I hope you never have to find out.' ...Since that day, I've learned a lot. And my pa's taught me to not be afraid of picking up a gun… but he's also taught me to never take the responsibility of picking up a gun lightly… even when it is just for something as simple as target practice."

"Sounds like your pa likes to take the fun out of everything."

Mark contemplated his uncle's words, a small smile appearing on his face as he began to see his father's lessons in a new light. "No… he just wanted me to live long enough to have fun."

---

"You must be joshing me," David declared as he watched his nephew reload the revolver. "You're quite a shot."

"No sir."

"You couldn't have gotten that good in fifteen minutes."

"It's a lot different than my rifle, but like you said, the same principles apply."

"You keep at it you might just get a name for yourself."

"It was alright to try, but I'd rather not marry it."

"...Marry it?"

Mark nodded. "I was told once that just because I pick a gun up, that doesn't mean I have to marry it. I reckon that's some pretty good advice to live by."

"Advice that might also get you killed."

"I think my rifle's good enough."

David shook his head. "Your pa might've been lucky enough not to get his head shot off so far, but a rifle just can't stand against a six-gun."

Mark was quiet for a moment, trying to determine what his father would have said in response. But as he thought on it, Mark realized his pa would have been too humble. "You know who Jack Solby was?"

"Solby? Course I do. He was the best shot back in Enid… he and your pa shore didn't take to each other. I heard he ended up in prison eight or nine years ago."

"He did. Snuck up on my pa and shot him. Pa shot back, hurt him bad enough so the posse could find him. Got out a few years ago and came back to kill my pa."

"And your point?"

"He came back because he heard my pa had been blinded from a powder accident. And Pa still shot and killed Solby."

David stared at Mark and disbelief. "But… how?"

"Because it's the ability of the man, not the weapon, that counts."

"Mark… I had no idea Lucas was… if I had known…"

"He's not any more. We thank the good Lord it was only temporary."

"...Just because your pa's a bear with that rifle of his, don't mean you will be, too."

"I know. And that's why I practice. You practice anything long enough, you'll get good at it."

David shook his head. "To each their own, I suppose. Come on, we better get back to the house and get some lunch."

When they arrived back at the homestead, Mark offered to take care of the horses and was soon leading both mounts to the barn. The young man became lost in his thoughts as he continued to think back on the incident with Solby and his pa being blind. He wondered what things would have been like if Lucas's blindness hadn't been temporary… where would they be now? What would…

"Raise your hands, boy, nice and easy."

Mark froze as the sound of a gun being cocked echoed through the barn.

"I said raise your hands."

Mark eyed his rifle that sat in the corner of the stall, realizing that it was too far away for him to try anything. The young man complied, careful not to make any sudden movements.

"Now turn around, real slow like."

Mark did as he was told to find a tall, red haired man holding a gun on him. "...Who are you?"

"Don't matter. Let's go, inside."

As the man gestured with his gun, Mark followed the order. They crossed the yard and walked up the porch steps, Mark opening the door before the man pushed him inside.

"Brandon, I got another one for you."

"Clyde, you leave him alone!" David declared; Mark looking up to see his uncle being held at gunpoint by another man. "He's just the neighbor's boy, let him go, he's got nothing to do with this."

"Well he does now," the man answered. "Rob, tie him up over there."

The man behind Mark shoved him forward again before tying the youth to the staircase railing. "You want my help in here or should I watch the road?"

"Watch the road, make sure no one else decides to drop in for a visit." As Rob left the house, Mark looked across the room to see one final man standing behind his aunt, a firm grip on her arms. "And Dan, tie her up."

"You touch my wife one more time-"

David was interrupted as Clyde suddenly holstered his weapon and punched the man. Mark watched as his uncle stumbled backwards, inevitably falling to the ground. Clyde strode forward and grabbed David's vest in a fist before hauling the man to his feet.

"I'll ask you again, McCain. Where's the money?"

"I already told you, I don't know!"

"That's funny," Clyde laughed, this time throwing a punch to David's mid section. "You and your brother were the only two to handle it, and Lucas was arrested right along with us!"

Mark's mind began spinning as creases formed on his brow. "What's he talking about?"

"Nothing," David snapped back. "This is family business, it's none of your concern."

"None of his concern?" Dan stepped away from Susannah as he clucked his tongue, "David, your neighbors gotta right to know they're living with a man wanted by the law."

"That happened a long time ago, it's history!"

"History?" Clyde asked. "Seems to me it was just yesterday. Let's see, what was it… fifty-eight?"

"Fifty-nine," Dan answered, pulling a poster from his pocket. He unfolded it, shoving the paper in David's face. "February second, eighteen-fifty-nine. Six men robbed a stagecoach, and it seems one of them is still at large. And unless you start talking, he ain't gonna be missing for much longer."

"I didn't take the money! I woke up and Lucas was gone! I went looking for him, and when I came back, you had already been arrested! I always figured one of you hid the money, because my saddle bag was empty!"

"That sounds just fine. Except if you went looking for Luke, how come he was arrested with the rest of us?"

"I don't know!"

"David… I really wish you'd change your tune…"

Mark flinched as Clyde began a ruthless assault on his uncle; Dan quickly joining in. Susannah sat across the room crying as she begged the men to stop. Suddenly, Clyde grabbed David and yanked him to his feet again.

"I can do this all day. It'd really be best for everyone if you were a little more cooperative."

"I… didn't take… the money…"

Hours seemed to pass as the men tried to beat answers out of David. Mark sat quietly, trying not to draw attention to himself as he worked to get out of his restraints. At long last, it seemed as though the men might give up as they let David crumple to the floor. Clyde paced the length of the parlor as Dan settled into the corner of the room, leaning against a wall and pulling out a knife.

"Can't you see he doesn't know anything?!" Susannah cried. "I'm his wife, don't you think I would know if he had a hundred thousand dollars stashed somewhere?!"

Ignoring the woman's comments, Clyde again crossed the room, squatting down beside David. He continued the interrogation, Dan standing nearby and chuckling as he whittled away at a small piece of wood.

"Where, McCain? Just answer that, and this can all be over."

"Clyde… I..." David struggled to go on as he gasped for breath. "...I wouldn't ever… cross you… I… I… don't… know… what… happened…"

"The money was in your saddlebag last. And who was gone when the law showed up?"

"It… was… empty, I… told you…"

Clyde stood and folded his arms as he let out a long sigh. As the man crossed the room, Mark felt a shift in his ropes, indicating that they were ready to give way. He carefully assessed both men, realizing his best chance was to try to obtain Dan's gun from its holster. But before he could act, Clyde drew his own weapon and pointed it at Susannah.

"Don't... you... touch her!" David yelled.

A smug smile crossed the outlaw's face as he pulled back the hammer, drawing more tears from Susannah's eyes.

"The truth, David."

"You have it!"

"It'd be such a shame if she died over a few pieces of paper…"

Mark saw the terror in his uncle and aunt's eyes as they looked at each other.

"Last chance, McCain."

"I'd give it… to you if I… had it! I don't kn-"

As soon as Clyde pulled the trigger, Mark broke free of his restraints and charged the outlaw in the corner of the room. His hand had barely grazed the handle of Dan's gun when a shock of pain radiated through his abdomen. Frozen in place, Mark fought to stay upright; a second gunshot sounding before he felt the knife again penetrating his flesh. As the young man sank to the floor, the front door swung open; heavy boots clomping across the parlor.

"Someone's comin'! We gotta get out of here!"

Mark watched three shadows run from the house as his vision began to fade. With the small amount of strength he had left, the young man turned himself around just in time to see his uncle's figure collapse. He vainly attempted to pull himself across the parlor floor before finally giving into the darkness.

---

Mark startled awake, feeling another sharp pain in his abdomen as he bolted upright. He looked down to see a white bandage stained with blood tightly wrapped around his stomach.

"Easy now," a gentle voice called as a set of hands forced him to lay back down. "You're gonna be just fine."

Mark looked around in confusion, his eyes finally settling on Chester's wife.

"How do you feel?"

"How do I…" Memories of gunfire suddenly made their way to the forefront of Mark's mind. "My aunt and uncle; are they alright? Where are they?"

Mark again tried to sit up, but Grace pushed him down.

"You need to lay still."

"Please, Mrs. Corey…"

"They're both still recovering from surgery; you're the first to wake."

"But they'll be alright?"

"...I'm afraid I don't know. ...The doctor seemed mighty worried about your aunt."

"...How long has it been?"

"Just a few hours… Chester and I arrived back at the ranch early and…" The woman shook her head at the scene the couple had found. "I'm glad you're alright."

"...Three men… there were three men, did you see which way they went?"

"I'm afraid not. …But the sheriff sent a few of his deputies out to the ranch to look around."

"...Do they think they could trail them?"

"...I don't know; Chester was the one to speak to the sheriff, and I certainly don't know enough about those things to have an opinion."

"...Mrs. Corey, could you ask the doctor about my aunt and uncle again? Please?"

"That won't be necessary," a man declared as he entered the room. "I'm Dr. Bell."

"...Mark McCain."

"Well, young Mr. McCain, I can see you've already managed to open your stitches." The doctor began unwrapping Mark's bandages as he went on, "You don't have to tell me the stab wounds hurt; they're going to be sore for quite some time. How else do you feel?"

"Tired… a little dizzy and nauseous."

"That's from the medication we used in surgery. It'll wear off in time."

"Surgery?"

"We simply had some minor damage to repair. Nothing terribly serious."

"My aunt and uncle, how are they?"

"Your uncle seems to be getting stronger, I'm afraid I can't say as much for your aunt. Only time will tell."

Mark sharply inhaled as the doctor began tending to his injuries; slowly exhaling as he adjusted to the pain. As the doctor finished, Mark asked if he could see his uncle.

"When I said he was getting stronger, I didn't mean to imply that he had woken up."

"I know, I'd just like to see him and Aunt Susannah for a few minutes."

"That will have to wait. I don't want you trying to put any pressure on your injuries for a day or two. It'll be awhile before you're completely back on your feet, and quite a bit longer before everything is healed."

"Will you at least let me know when they're awake?"

"I'll make sure you are informed, but I want you to get some rest."

"Mark," Grace began, "I'm going to sit with your aunt for a while. Please don't hesitate to ask someone to get me if you need anything."

"Thank you both."

Mark settled in between the sheets as Mrs. Corey and Dr. Bell left the room. Sleep didn't come as easily as he had hoped, but he did manage to doze on and off for most of the evening. Grace brought him a bowl of soup around nine o'clock, making Mark realize just how hungry he was. As he was finishing the bowl, both Mark and Grace jumped as David's voice boomed through the office.

"I WANT TO SEE MY WIFE!"

Mark let out a sigh of relief, knowing from experience with his pa that it was a good sign. A muffled argument followed, David eventually quieting.

"If you're done with that, I'll take your bowl and go see how Mr. McCain is doing."

"Thank you. ...Mrs. Corey?"

"Yes?"

"...I just wanted to say… I, and I'm sure my aunt and uncle appreciate your and Mr. Corey staying like this."

"It's nothing."

"But it is something. Thank you."

The woman gently smiled and nodded before leaving the room. Mark soon found himself fighting heavy eyelids and eventually fell asleep, not waking until the following morning. Dr. Bell examined Mark again before mentioning that the sheriff was there to ask him some questions.

"Me? I can't tell him any more than Uncle David can."

"Just the same, he'll be in after he's finished with your uncle."

"How is he?"

"Getting stronger. Although I'm not certain that's a good thing; your uncle is more stubborn than a mule. The man refuses to stay in bed."

"I know what you mean. ...What about my aunt?"

"The same, I'm afraid. She still hasn't come around. The unfortunate thing about medicine is that it does have its limits."

"...You don't think she's going to die, do you?"

"Only time will tell."

The doctor took his leave, a knock sounding at the door shortly thereafter. At Mark's invitation, a tall, slender man entered the room and introduced himself as the sheriff.

"Mark McCain."

"I'll get right to the point," the man stated, taking a seat beside the bed. "I know you can't tell me much, but I would like to know what you remember about what happened at your uncle's place."

"...Uncle David and I had spent the morning on the range. When we got back to the house, I offered to take care of the horses. A man pulled a gun on me and told me to go inside, where two other men already were. They tied me and my aunt up, and…" Mark quieted, remembering for the first time that his pa was wrapped up in the whole ordeal. That his pa had robbed a stage coach and… gone to jail...?

"And?"

"...These men were looking for money they thought my uncle had taken."

"They were looking for money your uncle had taken? From where?"

"...I think my uncle was mixed up in something a few years ago… well, actually, a long time ago. ...Didn't he tell you?"

"No, he told me they brought you into the house unconscious."

Mark looked at the sheriff in confusion before shaking his head. "No… I was the last one to lose consciousness. Uncle David kept telling them he didn't have the money, but they didn't listen. They kept beating him up until… until they realized that wasn't going to work. …When they gave up on that… that's when one of them threatened to shoot my aunt… and he did." Mark was silent for a few more moments before going on. "...By that point I had worked the ropes loose. One of the outlaws was in the corner whittling a piece of wood, so I tried going for his gun, but… well, he stabbed me and the other one shot Uncle David."

The sheriff stood, shaking his head. "Boy, you have quite the imagination."

"Imagination? What do you-" Mark stopped short, the pain in his abdomen forcing him to lay back again. "...What do you mean?"

"Like I said, your uncle said they knocked you unconscious."

"Why would I lie?"

"I'm not saying you're trying to lie, but that maybe you just had a good dream while you were out. Those men weren't there for money, they were there for the horses that are missing from your uncle's barn."

"Maybe they did take the horses, but I know what I saw!"

"...Why don't you get some rest?"

"Don't you want to know what they looked like?"

"Your uncle gave us a good enough description. I'm afraid we can't rely on your memory at this point."

"But-"

"Like I said, why don't you get some rest? Maybe you'll be thinking clearer in a day or two."

Mark stared at the sheriff in disbelief as he walked out the door. The young man wanted to go confront his uncle, but his injury wouldn't allow him to sit up, let alone walk. It wasn't long, however, before David was entering the room.

"Uncle David, I-"

"Just listen, Mark. I know the sheriff's already been in here, but I want you to forget what you saw!"

"Why would you lie to the sheriff about what happened? These men forced their way into your home and-"

"I ain't proud of what I've done, but I'm sure not going to prison for it!"

"They'll find out the truth, sooner or later!"

"That means they'll find out about your pa, too!"

"...But he was already arrested."

"And he was fighting in the war two years later. There's a reason he didn't spend twenty-five years in prison, and I'm sure it's not because they just decided to let him go!"

Mark stared at his uncle, trying not to wonder if what he was implying was true.

"Just keep quiet and this will all go away. Tell the sheriff you were mistaken."

"...I can't do that. I don't know what to believe about my pa, but even if it is true, I know he wouldn't want me to lie for him. …The sheriff doesn't exactly believe me, anyway… but when they catch up with those men…"

"Brandon's too smart for the law. Those lousy deputies already lost their trail! He'll be hidden in the hills for good in no time."

"They shot your wife! Don't you-"

"That's my business and mine alone! I'll deal with them when I… when I…"

"...Uncle David?"

Mark watched in horror as his uncle suddenly fell to the ground.

"HELP! Somebody help!"

---

Micah was sitting at his desk when the office door opened, drawing his attention away from the wanted posters. "Lucas, what brings you into town?"

"I had to pick up a few supplies… seems I'm suddenly out of just about everything."

"Things been busy at the ranch?"

"Hardly," Lucas answered, taking a seat across from Micah. "This time of year there's not much to do."

"Heard from Mark?"

"Only that he made it to Houston. ...Not that I would expect him to wire me for any other reason."

"The way you sound I would think maybe you do."

Lucas hesitated before replying. "...Hoping maybe, but not expecting. I still don't like anything about him being there. Part of me hopes he'll send a wire saying he's coming home early."

"He'll be home soon enough. His train gets in on Tuesday, doesn't it?"

"Noon," Lucas answered with a nod. "Things been quiet around here?"

"As quiet as they ever get."

"What do you mean by that?"

"It's nothing, just a few brawls the last few nights. There was even one over at Lou's."

"Lou's?" he asked in confusion. "She open a bar in the restaurant again?"

"No, a fancy politician rented the room for a private party last night after the restaurant closed. Lou was surprisingly patient about the noise they made, but the moment they started damaging her property…"

"Oh, I can imagine."

"She was still riled about it this morning."

"Not at you?"

"No, riled at the men who tore up the restaurant. Me and the rest of the town have just become her whipping boy."

"Thanks for the warning, I'll be sure to steer clear." Lucas and Micah laughed before the rancher went on, "Say, how do you feel about joining me out at the ranch for supper tonight? Things have been too quiet with Mark gone."

"If you don't mind it being a late supper, I'd be glad to. I have to meet the seven o'clock stage with John Hamilton."

"You want me to stick around?"

"No, we can handle it. Thanks, anyway."

"I better get back to the ranch then. I'll see you about eight-thirty?"

"Just try not to burn the biscuits this time."

"Now you-" Lucas pointed a finger at the marshal, dropping it as he saw the smile on his face. "See you tonight, Micah."

That evening, Lucas was working in the kitchen when he heard a rider in the yard. He gave the potatoes one last stir before walking outside to greet his friend.

"Stage get in early?" he asked in surprise.

Micah nodded as he dismounted. "Amos caught me on my way out of town, asked me to deliver this to you."

"Thanks." Lucas took the telegram Micah offered, his brow furrowing as he read it.

'Lucas McCain
North Fork, New Mexico

David and Susannah shot
Recovering
Permission to stay

Mark McCain
Houston, Texas'

"Something the matter?"

Lucas read the telegram once more before handing it to the marshal, his gaze settling on the horizon.

"...That's all it says?"

Lucas thought for a moment before answering, "...If he's wanting to stay, he's trying to be careful with the money he has with him. ...I'm sure what happened can't be explained with a short telegram."

"...You alright, Lucas-boy?"

Lucas let out a heavy sigh, crossing his arms and leaning against a post. "I had a feeling about this trip… I shouldn't have let him go."

"You gonna make him come home?"

Lucas shook his head. "I can't. …He's clearly alright and… at the very least, I'm sure David is going to need help at the ranch."

Micah watched Lucas for a moment, trying to understand the look in his eye. "...What is it?"

"...I should've listened to you and gone with him."

"Now Lucas, you had perfectly sound reasons for not going."

"Reasons that don't matter now."

"What do you mean?"

"They don't matter because now I'm wondering if I should go or not… and those same reasons don't hold any weight at all."

---

"How does it feel?"

Mark slowly sat back down on the bed before answering the doctor. "It hurts, but not bad enough to keep me from walking."

"Well, let's just stick to standing today. We'll see about you trying to walk a little tomorrow. I don't want you opening your wound again."

"Yes sir."

"Now, my nurse says you've been a little restless at night. The pain keeping you awake?" Mark hesitated, causing the doctor to go on, "I'd expect just as much if it is. There's no shame in asking for a little relief."

"...No sir, it's not that."

"Then what is it? You need proper rest in order to heal."

"...I keep seeing it, over and over again. Not to sound like a child, but it's the only thing I dream about… and…"

"It's only natural. Our brains have an amazing ability to recall an exorbitant amount of information. Paired with the right amount of imagination, or in your case, even without any imagination, it has the capacity to create situations that would be troubling to any grown man. I'll have Nancy give you something to help you sleep tonight."

"Thank you."

"It's no trouble." The doctor then pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to the young man. "I forgot, a wire arrived for you just as I was making my way back to the office; our clerk asked me to give it to you."

"Thanks."

'Mark McCain
Houston, Texas

Yes
Should I come

Lucas McCain
North Fork, New Mexico'

"Any reply?"

"...No, not yet. Dr. Bell, is there any way I could talk to my uncle?"

"I don't think either one of you are up to the walk. I can take a note into him if you would like?"

"Thank you, I'd appreciate it."

The doctor offered Mark a pad of paper and a pencil to write his message with. After finishing his note, Mark asked, "How is Aunt Susannah?"

"...Declining."

"What do you think her chances are?"

"...I'm afraid I can't be sure. But there's always room for hope."

Mark and the doctor acknowledged each other before the doctor took his leave. Mark settled back into the bed, letting out a heavy sigh as he read his pa's telegram again. He didn't want his pa to show up, to get involved. He didn't want to find out that what had been said about his pa was true.

Shortly after the doctor left to make his rounds, the door to Mark's room unexpectedly swung open, startling him.

"Uncle David, you shouldn't be out of bed."

The man lifted Mark's note as he responded, "How did your father find out what happened?"

"...I didn't tell him everything. I just needed permission to stay longer."

"I don't want Lucas here, you need to make that absolutely clear!"

"...Uncle David, what's wrong?"

The man let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. "...I'm sorry for hollering. Just make sure he stays in North Fork. ...How are you feeling?"

"...Alright, considering. The doc said I could try walking around some tomorrow."

"...I really am sorry you got pulled into all this."

"Not like you knew they were going to show up." Mark quieted for a moment before hesitantly asking, "...Did you?"

"No. I haven't seen them since the robbery. I thought on visiting them, to find out where the money was, but then I found out your pa got away. Figured he stashed the money somewhere that night and that's why he was missing when I woke up."

"...And that's why you're so set against him?"

"That's part of it. But no sense in dragging you into the rest of this."

"Isn't it a little late for that?"

David thought for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. "I reckon you're old enough to know the truth and I don't figure your pa'll ever tell it to you. We had a close friend of mine working with us. Like I said, I woke up that night and went looking for your pa, but my friend wasn't in his bedroll, either. The next day I found him three miles from camp, shot in the back."

"...Well anybody could've done that."

"With a Starr Carbine rifle? I don't think so," David mused.

"My pa wouldn't shoot anybody in cold blood!"

"Maybe not now. Based on what you've told me, it seems your pa's changed a lot. But I wouldn't have put it past him then."

"Couldn't you have at least asked him what happened? Who knows what the circumstances were!"

"Mark, the next time I saw your pa was in the war. And you know how that went. I don't blame you for wanting to defend your pa, but face it- you have your doubts. I can see it in your eyes."

"...Like I said before, I'm not sure what to believe. But that doesn't mean…"

"Mark, what cause would I have to lie to you?"

"But why would my pa keep something like that from me?"

"...Do I really have to answer that?"

Mark quieted, slowly shaking his head.

"Look, I know this is a lot. But better you find out now and figure a way to live with it. So to answer your question, that's what's wrong, and that's why I don't want your pa to get involved."

"...Uncle David, I-"

"DOCTOR! NURSE!"

David opened the door and stepped into the hall to find Mrs. Corey frantically yelling.

"Grace, what's wrong?!"

"It's Mrs. McCain, she's not breathin'!"

---

"Lucas, I thought that was your horse out front. Coffee?"

"No thanks." Lucas set his rifle against the wall before taking a seat on the corner of the marshal's desk.

"You heard from Mark yet?"

"No. I've been waiting next door all morning. I don't know what's taking so long."

"You said your brother lived on a ranch, didn't you?"

"...I suppose I expected Mark to be waiting in town for my response. But you're right."

"You look like you didn't get much sleep last night."

"I didn't," he sighed. "All night, all I could think about was the war. What I could have done differently. What I should have done differently. Instead I let him walk away and never talked to him again."

"Well then whether or not Mark needs you out there, why don't you just go?"

"Because I have a feeling I'm one of the last people my brother wants to see."

"And what makes you so sure about that?"

"You don't know him like I do. ...Besides that, I don't know if I'm ready to face him. David and I-"

Lucas was interrupted by Amos walking through the door with a telegram. "Mark replied."

"Thanks."

As the telegraph operator left the office, Lucas opened the wire and read it aloud.

"Lucas McCain
North Fork, New Mexico

David said no

Mark McCain
Houston, Texas"

Lucas shook his head, crumpling the telegram and tossing it in the wastebasket. "That answers that."

Micah hesitated in responding. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something felt off about both of the wires Mark had sent. Interrupting the marshal's thoughts, Lucas stood, stating he needed to get back to the ranch.

"It doesn't sit well with you, does it?"

"...No, it doesn't. I'll be glad when Mark comes back home."

"That's not what I mean. I know you don't like him being out there. Your brother's response bothers you, doesn't it?"

"I can't blame him for feeling the way he does. But I would like for things to be different."

"That won't happen unless the two of you talk."

Lucas shook his head. "Micah, now's not the time. A few months down the road, when he's not recovering from being shot, I'll deal with it."

"You'd do to take some of your own advice."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that if you were having this conversation with your son, you'd be lecturing him about the fact that tomorrow is never a sure thing. Why don't you write to your brother?"

"He's never cared to read anything I've ever sent him, why would he now?"

"Usually having a brush with death will change a man's mind about a lot of things."

Lucas let out an annoyed sigh, crossing his arms.

"If you don't want my advice, what do you come in here for? If you keep putting this off…"

"Fine, I'll try again. Are you happy?"

"Lucas-boy, this isn't about me being happy. This is about you reconciling with your brother."

Lucas started for the door, stopping to turn around and point a finger at Micah. "You know who you sound like?"

"Who?"

"My sister."

"She must've been a very wise, intelligent woman."

"She also liked to meddle in people's affairs. ...Thanks, Micah. I'll be seeing you."

---

Against the doctor's recommendation, Mark attended Susannah McCain's funeral the afternoon following her death. It was a simple service. Few townsfolk attended, and while Mark knew his uncle and aunt were estranged from their children, he was shocked that the ones who still lived near Houston didn't bother to come. He watched his uncle closely, and while his face was void of emotion, Mark could see grief and anger deep within the man's eyes.

After the service, Mark and David slowly made their way back to the clinic. Dr. Bell looked them both over one last time before reluctantly discharging the pair.

"But I want you both to take it easy," he insisted. "Especially you, Mark. Too much activity could open your wound again and make things significantly worse."

"Yes sir."

"And I gave the cook those sleeping powders, should you need them."

"...Thank you, Dr. Bell."

Mr. Corey then walked through the door, announcing that the team was ready.

"Doctor, I'll have Chester come by next week to settle accounts with you," David assured.

"That's fine, Mr. McCain. You and your nephew just rest up. And again, I'm sorry for your loss."

It was a quiet ride back to the McCain ranch. When they arrived, Mark carefully slipped down from the buggy and painfully made his way inside. He walked to the bookcase, picking up a crumpled piece of paper before heading to his room.

Mark let out a deep sigh as he laid down across the bed, opening the wanted poster to read the faded print. So many thoughts and questions swirled in his head as he thought about the last few days. He didn't know what to believe… he didn't know who to trust.

...What if it was all true?

Mark closed his eyes as he remembered the conversation between the men and his uncle. How could they have named Lucas if they didn't know him? Why would they have named Lucas if he wasn't involved? Mark thought on what his pa had said back home. Lucas had admitted that there were issues between them, and alluded to the fact that those issues were comparable to the deeds of Samuel Gibbs. If it were anything else, why wouldn't his pa have explained?

...How could it not be true?

Pushing the events of the last few weeks from his mind, Mark changed before getting into bed. He knew sleep wouldn't make his problems or his pain go away, but it offered a temporary escape that he was more than willing to take.

---

The following morning, Mark woke to hear raised voices coming from the parlor. As he slowly got out of bed and began to dress, he started to recognize Mr. Corey and David's voices.

"Mr. McCain, with all respect Sir, you're not well! The doctor said-"

"I don't care what that doctor said! My wife is lying in her grave because of these men, and I'm gonna see that they pay!"

"But… but Sir-"

"I don't want to hear any more, Chester! I'm trusting you to see that things stay in order while I'm gone."

"...Mr. McCain, please, you can't…"

"I can and I will!"

Mark finally made it to the door, opening it before leaning against the frame. "...Uncle David?"

David turned towards his nephew before looking back to Chester. "And get him on the next train back home, I don't care how much it costs!"

Mark took a few steps forward, pleading with his uncle. "You can't go after these men, not in your condition!"

"My condition doesn't matter! All that matters is getting justice for my wife!"

"You said yourself they were too smart to be followed!"

"I said they were too smart for the law! I know exactly where they're headed- the only place Clyde feels safe!"

"Uncle David, please! These men already tried to kill you once; they aren't going to hesitate to finish what they started! There's three of them and one of you!"

"But their wife wasn't murdered!"

David stormed out of the house and headed for the barn. Mark followed, but couldn't walk near as fast; entering the barn to find David halfway through saddling his horse.

"You killing those men in cold blood isn't justice! If you really wanted justice for Aunt Susannah, you would get the law involved!"

"Don't you start telling me my business, boy!"

"You're not thinking rationally! You shoot them and what, hang for murder?"

David grabbed his horse's reins and led the animal from the barn, ignoring Mark as he followed after him.

"Uncle David, please! Just think about this! You don't want to do this!"

The man mounted his horse, shoving a rifle into the scabbard.

"Uncle David! Uncle David!"

Mark watched in defeat as his uncle rode away. He continued to stare into the horizon until the man's figure finally disappeared from view.

"I'm sorry, Son."

Mark turned around to see Mr. Corey standing by the corral. "...Thanks for trying, anyway."

"Grace has breakfast ready, why don't you come in and eat?"

"...I'm not really hungry."

"Well you're going to eat anyhow," Grace declared from the porch. "You skipped supper last night, and I'm not going to have you withering away on us."

"...Yes ma'am."

The three started to make their way inside as Chester went on, "Mark, I'll go into town this afternoon to see about getting you on a train sometime next week."

Mark thought for a moment before answering, "...Mr. Corey, I'd rather leave sooner, even if that means I need to take the stage."

"You really should rest a few days."

"...I… a lot has happened… things… things my pa and me to talk about. ...Things that can't wait. Besides, the two of you don't need me underfoot; I'd just be in the way."

"You'd be no such thing," Grace declared.

"She's right," Chester began. "But we do understand what you're sayin'. I'll see what the schedules are in town and get you on the next train home. But I ain't about to put you on a stagecoach. The last thing you need is all that jostling."

"Thank you, Mr. Corey."

"Chester will do just fine. I was given a first name for a reason."

Early the next morning, the Coreys saw Mark off at the train station. He asked Chester to wire him if they heard anything from David before thanking them for all their help and boarding the train.

It was a long two days of travel, but Mark was far from anxious to get home. He knew he had no choice other than to ask his pa for the truth, but he was scared. Scared that he already knew the truth. Scared that he wouldn't be able to trust his pa anymore. Scared that he might lose his father to prison.

When the train finally pulled into North Fork, Mark looked out the window to see Micah waiting to greet the passengers. The young man collected his belongings and slipped out the back of the train, walking the long way around to the livery.

"...Nils? Nils?"

The blacksmith turned around, a broad smile on his face as usual.

"Oh, hello, Mark. I didn't know you were back." Noticing the carpet bag, he went on, "You just get in?"

"Yeah. I was wondering if I could borrow a horse to get home? I don't have the money on me now, but-"

"Don't worry about it; on the house! Say, I heard about your uncle and aunt. How are they doing?"

"...My aunt passed away a few days ago."

"...Gee, I sure am sorry, Mark."

"...Thanks."

Nils pulled out a saddle as Mark led a horse from the stall.

"What about your uncle?"

"...Too much like Pa… up and around doing things he shouldn't…"

"I'm glad he made it."

"Me too."

Nils set the saddle on the mare and secured it in place. He watched Mark mount up, noticing when the young man winced in pain.

"You alright?"

"...Just pulled something funny, it's fine. Thanks for the horse, I'll bring it back as soon as I can."

"Don't worry about it. Good to have you back!"

As Mark rode to the ranch, he tried to figure out how he was going to approach his pa. He didn't even know where to start. How was he supposed to accuse his father of lying to him for sixteen years? Of killing someone in cold blood?

Mark took in a deep breath as he thought it all over. Maybe it didn't have to be an accusation. He just had to ask one question. …A question that could change everything.

---

"Sorry, Lucas, I'm all out. Won't have any more until next week. ...You might check with Nils; he'd probably let you borrow a few until my shipment comes in."

"Thanks, Josh."

Lucas left the shop and headed down the street, entering the livery to find the blacksmith hammering away at a horseshoe.

"Nils?"

"Oh, hello, Lucas! Sure didn't expect to see you in town so soon. What can I do for you?"

"Josh is out of…" Lucas quieted, confusion shadowing his face. "...So soon?"

"Well yeah, with Mark being back and all, I mean."

"Mark being- Nils, what are you talking about?"

"Well don't you know?"

"No, I don't. Mark was here?"

"Sure he was; asked to borrow a horse. I'm surprised you didn't see him on the road."

"...I was working on the range and took the back way into town. How long ago did he leave?"

"Oh, I'd say about a half hour ago."

"...Thanks, Nils…"

"I'll be seeing you, Lucas!"

Lucas walked back to his horse and rode out of town, not hearing Micah call to him from the boardwalk. Questions and concerns abounded in the rancher's mind. Why was Mark home so soon? Why hadn't he sent word that he was coming? What had gone wrong?

Lucas rode into the yard and brought Razor to a stop in front of the house, calling his son's name as he went inside. Finding the front room empty, the rancher quickly strode to the bedroom where he saw Mark's carpet bag sitting beside the dresser.

"Mark?" he called again, receiving no answer. Lucas hurried outside and headed towards the barn. Walking through the side door, he finally found his son at BlueBoy's stall, petting the horse. "Mark?"

Lucas watched as his son jumped, not noticing that Mark's hand rose to hold his side.

"Son, what are you doing home?" Lucas crossed the barn floor, placing a hand on Mark's shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

Confusing Lucas further, Mark hesitated, looking up at his pa before breaking away from Lucas's hold. He slowly walked to a hay bale and apprehensively took a seat. Lucas followed, resting his hands on his hips as he looked down at his son.

"Mark, what's wrong? Are David and Susannah alright? How did they wind up getting shot?"

Mark took in a deep breath and slowly let it out, staring across the barn floor as he answered. "...Pa, I'll answer your questions and tell you everything that happened. But there's something I need to know first." He swallowed hard before going on, "I… I have something to ask you, and I need to know that you'll answer me honestly. …I can find the truth out on my own other ways, and I… I will if I have to. ...But I'd… rather hear it from you."

Lucas took hold of his son's arm, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Son, you know I wouldn't lie to you," he answered, hurt in his voice.

Mark nodded, finally turning to look at his pa. "Where were you February second, eighteen-fifty-nine?"

Lucas released his grip on his son's arm as memories flooded him. He didn't realize how much shock and emotion he had let his face show until his son's voice penetrated his muddled thoughts.

"...So it is true?"

Lucas could see the confusion, hurt, and fear in his son's eyes. He knelt down beside Mark, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Son, I don't know what your uncle told you, but I can promise you it wasn't the whole truth." Still feeling his son's apprehension, Lucas asked, "Are you willing to hear me through?"

"That's why I came home."

Lucas nodded, patting his son on the shoulder before grabbing the milking stool and taking a seat across from him.

"I was just about your age when my mother died. Things got strained between my father and me, so when David said he was leaving, I didn't think twice about going with him. Now there's a lot of things I could say about me not knowing what I was getting into, but in the end, I made the choice to go along with David and his friends. What I did was wrong and I've lived with that my entire life. There was a stage carrying a bank transfer and we held it up. Problem was, I didn't make a very good outlaw. My conscience was bothering me so much I didn't even make it through the first night… I waited for everyone to fall asleep and I snuck over to the nearest town to turn myself in. I was more scared than I'd ever been… I must've been a sight. When I was through explaining what I had done, the marshal just sat there, laughing. I thought he figured I was lying, so I told him I could get him the money. He just started laughing harder, saying he couldn't believe that two dozen marshals hadn't been able to find our lousy bunch. So he offered me a deal. If I helped them recover the money and led them back to the gang, they'd drop my charges. I already had the money with me, so that much wasn't difficult. After that I left a trail they could follow as I went back to camp. My one request was that they temporarily arrested me with everyone else so the others wouldn't find out."

At that point, Lucas saw the rest of the tension disappear from his son's face; his entire body relaxing.

"Mark, what did David tell you?"

"I didn't want to believe it, but everything seemed so black and white, and-"

"Son, it's alright, I understand. Just tell me what he told you."

"...Well he thought you must've taken the money and hidden it somewhere… and that you somehow escaped from prison, and that..." Mark suddenly stopped, remembering the last part.

"And what?"

"...Pa, I know you'd never kill someone in cold blood. But Uncle David found his friend's body. ...What happened?"

Mark watched a strange look come over his pa's face before Lucas began to answer. "...Zeb followed me out of camp that night. ...I heard him coming and disappeared behind some boulders, backtracking so I could get the drop on him. His back was to me, but he tried going for his gun, anyway. He ran away, wounded. I didn't realize… I didn't know I killed him."

"...Pa, I really am sorry. I didn't want to think-"

"...Mark, like you said, you came back home to hear me out, and I'm sure that wasn't an easy thing to do. I did rob that stage, …I did kill Zeb, so your questions had valid grounds. But I will never, ever lie to you."

"I know. Thank you."

"Your uncle didn't have any right to tell you in the first place, but I'm sorry you had to find out that way. I should've just told you before you left."

"Well it was your business and I respect you not telling me, especially because you could've used it as a reason to not let me go. ...But you should know, it's not really Uncle David's fault I found out."

"But you said he told you…"

"He did, but he wasn't the one who started the conversation."

"Did you ask him what had happened between us?"

"No sir. I heard him talking… with Brandon Clyde."

Shock again shadowed Lucas's face as he tried to understand. "...What?"

"...He was the one who shot Uncle David and Aunt Susannah. ...He thought Uncle David stole the money and he came back to the ranch to get it."

"And you were there when it happened?!"

"...Yes sir."

Realizing the danger his son had been in, Lucas took in a deep breath, his muscles tightening. "Mark, why didn't you tell me?!"

"...There was too much to explain in a telegram and… Pa, like I said, I didn't like it, but I didn't know what to believe. I needed to talk to you in person about what had happened. I… I was confused and…"

Lucas relaxed, beginning to understand how much his son had been trying to process on his own. "I'm sorry. I suppose I'm hollering at myself. …Tell me what happened."

"...Like I said, Clyde came for the money. He and two other men… Rob and… I don't remember the other one…"

"Dan?"

Mark nodded. "Uncle David and I had been out shooting on the range and when we came back, they were there. They tied me and Aunt Susannah up and then beat up Uncle David, but he insisted he never took the money. It… it felt like hours they kept at it. ...I guess Clyde got tired of it. And then he threatened to kill Aunt Susannah…"

For the first time, it finally hit Mark. He hadn't felt anything before… he had just been numb. But it had happened. It had really happened. He had watched his aunt's murder.

Lucas saw the tears forming in his son's eyes. He again reached out to put a hand on Mark's shoulder, this time moving to sit beside his son. "It's alright; take your time."

"...Pa, he killed her," Mark whispered. "In cold blood, he killed her."

Lucas stared at his son, finally shaking his head. "...I thought you said they were recovering?"

"...They were. But then Aunt Susannah died… and now… now Uncle David's gonna get himself killed trailing after them!"

"What is he doing a fool thing like that for?!"

Mark swallowed hard before answering, pushing back his tears. "...Chester and I tried to talk him out of it. He said he wanted justice for Aunt Susannah… but it was revenge. He's after pure revenge."

"Why wouldn't he let the law handle it? He was shot!"

"...He doesn't want to go to prison… and the law had already lost the trail."

"Then what makes him think- ...Oh, no…"

"What?"

"He doesn't have to trail them, he knows right where they're headed!" Lucas stood, slapping his hat across his leg. "David!"

Mark watched as his pa looked out the barn doors and could see the wheels turning.

"No, Pa!"

"Son, I have to."

"Please, have Micah wire the Marshals Service; they're all wanted!"

"There isn't time. I want you to go into town and bunk in with Nils or Micah until I get home."

Lucas started to walk away, but felt his son's hand on his arm. "Pa, wait!"

"Mark…"

"Please, Pa," he begged. "These men won't hesitate to kill you; there's three of them and one of you!"

"That's why I have to go. My brother is facing the same odds."

"But Pa!"

"Mark…" Lucas took hold of his son's shoulders, looking deeply into his eyes. "I can't let David walk into this on his own. If I would've had enough courage to let Clyde and the rest of them see that I was the one who turned them in, none of this would have happened."

"You can't blame yourself. You tell me all the time that the only person you can blame is the one who commits the crime."

"...He's my brother, Mark. We haven't spoken for twenty-five years, and we may not speak for another twenty-five. But he's my own flesh and blood, and I have a responsibility to stand by him, just like you and me stand by each other." Seeing the fight in his son diminish, Lucas went on, "I'll wire as soon as I can."

"Pa…"

"I love you, Son. I'll be back."

---

Lucas spent the next two days in the saddle, kicking himself for leaving Enid with David, for holding up the stage, for making it look like he had been arrested. Most of all, he felt guilty for allowing Mark to visit his brother. Over and over again, Lucas was haunted by the fact that his son could have been caught in the crossfire. What if he had been hurt? What if he… what if he had been killed?

Lucas again pushed the thought from his mind, focusing on the task at hand. He rode into a small town bordering Texas and surveyed the busy street before making his way to the saloon. The tall man dismounted and hitched his horse, keeping his rifle at the ready.

As Lucas entered the building, he was greeted by an overwhelming amount of cigar smoke, boisterous laughter, and the sound of a poorly-tuned piano. He made his way to the counter, assessing the room before he took a seat.

"What'll it be?"

"I need some information."

"Can't promise I'll be much help to ya, but I can try. Looking for someone?"

"Man by the name of David McCain…" Lucas hesitated, realizing he didn't know if his brother looked anything like he used to. "...Just shy of six feet, maybe a bit shorter by now… dark hair."

"Mister, there's about a dozen men in this room that fit that description."

"...His ear, there would be a scar on his ear that looks like it could've been done with a curling iron."

"A curling iron?" the man asked, raising an eyebrow.

"...It's a long story."

"Sorry, I don't think I can help you."

"The name Brandon Clyde ring a bell?"

"Oh, sure. Brandon's been in and out of here the last few days. They're camped South of town about a mile or so."

"They?"

"He and two others. I think he called one of 'em Dan."

"Thanks."

Lucas had made it about three-quarters of a mile out of town before he saw the faint glow of a campfire in the distance. As he brought razor to a stop, Lucas heard something behind him. He cautiously dismounted and pulled his rifle from the scabbard before suddenly whipping around and cocking the firearm. Not seeing anything, Lucas turned back towards the camp, creeping up to one of many groupings of boulders.

The rancher peered around the largest rock to see Clyde and Robert sitting by the fire. David was a few yards away, severely beaten and tied to a tree.

"David, you fool…"

"Well, looks like stupidity runs in the family," a voice laughed from behind him. "Nice to see you again, Lucas."

"Dan," he answered; teeth clenched.

"Drop the rifle."

Lucas let out a deep sigh before following the order.

"Start moving, no sudden movements."

Both men started making their way towards the camp, Dan hollering to Brandon and Robert.

"Look what I found! Seems someone felt left out!"

"Lucas McCain…" Brandon stood and approached Lucas, looking the man over before chuckling. "Man alive, it sure has been a long time. Your brother and me were just catching up, and he had some very interesting things to say about you…"

Lucas looked to David, who returned his hard glare.

"I'm sure he did."

"You know, all this time, I figured David was the one who took off with the money. But maybe he's right. Maybe you are smarter than the rest of us thought."

"If you're after the money, you're too-"

Lucas was interrupted as the man unexpectedly threw a punch to the rancher's face. He stumbled backwards, catching himself before he fell to the ground.

"You're gonna want to think about what you're gonna say next real carefully."

"If you'd let me finish," Lucas spat, "You'd know you're wasting your time. It's too late, the money is back in the bank."

Clyde laughed, shaking his head. "Sure, Luke. Sure it is. That's why I spent twenty-five years in prison!"

"You spent twenty-five years in prison because you held up a stage coach carrying a bank transfer. I turned the money over to the authorities the night we robbed the stage."

"You WHAT?!" Everyone turned to see David struggling to get out of his restraints. "Lucas McCain, when I get loose…"

"You have to have it!" Clyde yelled, grabbing Lucas's shirt in a fist and yanking him forward.

"Every last penny went back to the bank where it belongs."

Rage began to glow in the man's eyes as he stared at Lucas. "Twenty-five years I spent in that rathole! Twenty-five years of hard labor! Twenty-five years of beatings! TWENTY-FIVE YEARS!"

Dan and Rob suddenly took hold of Lucas's arms, restraining him as Clyde began to senselessly beat the rancher. Lucas sank lower and lower until he limply hung from the men's grasps, gasping for breath. Clyde lowered himself to Lucas's level, pulling a gun from his holster.

"When I'm through with you… you'll wish you were never born."

Turning the weapon around, the man struck Lucas across the side of the head, knocking him out cold.

"Tie him up over there."

---

Mark waited for his pa to disappear from view before returning to the barn. He grabbed his saddle bag and headed for the house, filling it with supplies before making his way to the barn one last time. He could feel the strain in his side as he lifted the saddle to put on BlueBoy. Resting for a brief moment, Mark reconsidered what he was about to do. He knew he shouldn't be riding. He knew he was going to put himself in a lot of pain. But the concern he had for his father and uncle far outweighed the concern he felt over his injuries. An opened wound could be fixed; his pa and uncle getting themselves killed couldn't.

A few minutes later, Mark was headed to the MacDonald ranch with the livery horse in tow. Mr. MacDonald greeted the young man, waving from the fenceline.

"Mark, I didn't know you were back."

"I just got back, but I'm not staying. Pa and me… we have to deal with a family situation out of town. I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you?"

"Sure; need me and Carrey to keep an eye on things at that ranch?"

"If it's not too much trouble, I'd appreciate it."

"No trouble at all."

"I was also wondering if you could take this horse back to the livery for me next time you head to town? We're taking the horses cross country and I don't have time to get her back to Nils."

"Be happy to. This have to do with your aunt and uncle being shot?"

"Yes sir."

"I sure was sorry to hear what happened. I hope they recover quickly."

"...Thanks, Mr. MacDonald."

"I'll be seeing you, Mark."

Mark turned BlueBoy around and headed back towards his pa's trail. The tracks weren't difficult to follow; Lucas had no reason to be covering them. But what Mark did find difficult was pacing himself so his pa didn't realize he was being followed. All too often, Mark found himself suddenly ducking behind a rock or taking a detour when he got too close to Lucas.

Though Mark didn't like the idea of being that much farther behind his pa, he put a mile between himself and Lucas before making camp that evening. As he settled into his bedroll, the young man thought about how he was going to explain himself when he did have to catch up with his pa. He knew he was bound to get in trouble; his pa never wanted him to get involved. But it was too late for that- he was already involved. These men had killed his aunt, tried to kill him and his uncle, and Mark had no doubt that they would try to kill his pa if he found them. How could he be expected to just sit in North Fork and do nothing? To him, it all seemed justifiable. But Mark knew his pa wouldn't be so easy to persuade.

Breaking camp at dawn the next morning, Mark quickly made up the distance between himself and Lucas. He stayed hidden on a hill while he waited for his pa to ride out, leaving a quarter mile between them for the rest of the day.

Mark followed Lucas into a small border town that night. He waited in the alleyway as his pa went inside the saloon, straining to hear Lucas's conversation with the barkeep through the window. After the rancher mounted up and took off again, Mark waited about a minute before following after his pa once again.

Eventually noticing a campfire in the distance, Mark was quick to dismount and continue on foot, knowing his pa would be getting ready to do the same. He snuck towards a grouping of boulders, cringing as a twig snapped underneath his boot. The young man held his breath as the sound of his pa's rifle being cocked echoed through the night. He apprehensively peered around the rock, relaxing as he watched Lucas start towards the camp.

All too late, Mark saw a man sneak up behind his father. He couldn't understand what they were saying, but their actions were clear. His heart sank as he watched the man march Lucas into the camp at gunpoint. Once he was certain the outlaws were distracted, Mark moved closer to the camp. He assumed his father's previous hiding place just in time to see Clyde throw a punch to Lucas's jaw.

The conversation that followed was short-lived, Mark's heart beginning to race as he watched Clyde start beating his pa. The young man looked down as he clenched his rifle; his own words keeping him from acting. 'These men won't hesitate to kill you; there's three of them and one of you!'

Mark knew he wouldn't be of any help in that moment. As soon as he got a warning shot off, one of those men would have a gun pointed at his pa, and he wouldn't hesitate to follow any orders after that. He wouldn't be any use to his pa if he got caught. Especially if he got killed.

Mark carefully weighed his options before quietly sneaking back to BlueBoy. He mounted up and raced to the next town, no longer able to ignore the pain in his side as he reached the jail.

A sheriff and his deputy looked up as the door to the office swung open, a young man running inside as he held a hand to his abdomen.

"Boy, are you alright? Derrick, get Doc-"

"No," Mark declared; collapsing into a chair. "It's my pa, my pa and my uncle; you've got to help them!"

"Just calm down, take a deep-"

"There isn't time!" Mark sharply inhaled before going on, "Three men broke into my aunt and uncle's home, they killed my aunt; there should be a poster on them from houston!"

"Rings a bell…"

"My uncle went after them and my pa went after him! They're four miles due east of town and they have my pa and my uncle! And if you don't do something they're gonna-"

"Calm down, boy! You say these men are holding your father and uncle?"

"Why else would I be in here?! They're in trouble! They already killed my aunt and-"

"Alright, alright! Derrick, I'm gonna get some men together. You take the kid over to Doc Reuben."

"No! Please, just go! I can find my own way to the doctor!"

"Someone's gotta keep an eye on things around here, anyway."

"But-"

"Boy, there's no sense in arguing," Derrick answered as the sheriff left the office. "Besides, by the looks of you, I'd say you couldn't walk out that door on your own, let alone find your way to Doc's."

Realizing he wasn't going to be able to convince the deputy otherwise, Mark gave in, sinking deeper into the chair.

"Now you stay there and I'll be back with the doctor."

An unsettling silence fell over the office as the door shut behind the deputy. Everything inside of Mark had wanted to use his rifle; to charge into that camp. It had gone against every bone in his body to ride away from his pa. But in that moment, Mark had made the choice to ignore how he felt, and act on what he knew. Closing his eyes, Mark prayed he had made the right choice.

---

Lucas woke to find himself tied up beside his brother. As the ringing in his ears died down, he started to make out the sound of David's voice, but struggled to comprehend what he was saying. Finally, the words began to make sense as the rancher's mind started to clear.

"Are you listening to me?"

"I couldn't hear you," Lucas quietly answered, resting his head back against the tree.

"Yeah, sure."

"David," he began; annoyance in his voice, "I was unconscious. Do forgive me if it takes a few minutes to get my senses back!"

"I can't believe you," David scoffed

"Have you ever been pistol-whipped before?"

"Not that! I can't believe you betrayed us like that- betrayed me like that! How could you do this to me?"

"How could I do this to you? It's my own fault for listening to you, but how could you talk your sixteen-year-old brother into robbing a stagecoach?! Do you have any idea what that could have- what that should have resulted in?"

"No thanks to you, I had to spend the next year running from the law with no money to show for it!"

"If it hadn't been for me, you would've spent the next twenty-five years in prison with the rest of them!"

"...What are you talking about?"

"How do you think they found us, David? I didn't escape from prison. They offered to drop the charges if I turned over the money and led them back to camp. I insisted on leaving a trail and that they waited before following me; I didn't want everyone to know I had turned them in. But what do you think woke you up that night? I had to throw a dozen stones at you before you finally roused. I knew you'd go looking for me and that's why you weren't around when they made the arrests."

David stared at his brother in confusion, unsure of what to believe.

"And I didn't murder Zeb. He followed me out of camp and I circled around to get the drop on him. He went for his gun anyway and I had no choice but to shoot. He ran away. I didn't realize my bullet eventually killed him."

"Then what about the war? Why did you hold your rifle on me?"

"Why did you hold yours on me? It had been two years, David. I didn't know what you would do. How was I supposed to know if you were going to shoot me or not?"

"I'm your brother!"

"The brother that talked me into robbing a stagecoach."

David shook his head, not wanting to face the fact that he had been wrong for so many years. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to save your skin."

"Well how's that working out for you?"

"Would you rather I had stayed at the ranch?" Lucas asked in disbelief.

"You would've been more useful there! I frankly can't believe you left Mark alone in his condition."

"My son is my… condition? What do you mean, his condition?"

"Mark did make it home, didn't he?"

"Of course he did. How else would I know you were chasing after Clyde?"

"And he didn't tell you? Never mind that, how could you not notice? The boy could hardly walk straight!"

"What are you…" Lucas thought back to the day his son had come home. He remembered startling him in the barn, this time realizing how Mark had held his side. The hesitation in his son's stride hadn't been because he was trying to come up with what to say, it was because he was in pain. His movements hadn't been apprehensive because he was nervous, but because he was hurt. "David, what happened to Mark?!"

"I don't know exactly what happened, but Mark had two stab wounds. The doctor told me he had to do surgery to repair some minor damage."

"Why did no one tell me?!"

"I thought he did!"

A mixture of worry and anger burned inside of Lucas, his gaze settling on the men across the camp.

"Which one?" he demanded. "Which one did it?!"

"I told you, I don't know what happened."

"How bad is it?"

"Luke, I don't know! I was somewhat distracted with my dying wife!"

Lucas could hear the pain, anger, and grief in his brother's voice; emotions he was all too familiar with. But before he could respond, a voice suddenly boomed through the desert night.

"You in the camp! You're surrounded! Drop your weapons and put your hands up!"

In contrast to the orders they had been given, the three outlaws dove for cover and began blindly shooting into the night. The sheriff and his deputies didn't hesitate to return fire, mindful of the men tied up on the other side of the camp. Lucas began working to get out of his restraints before yelling at his brother to do the same.

At long last, Dan fell to the ground, soon followed by Brandon Clyde. Realizing he didn't have a chance, Rob tossed his weapon aside and raised his hands as he came from his hiding place.

"I give up! Don't shoot!"

"Jenkins, Holt, arrest that man. The rest of you check the bodies." The man giving the orders walked across the camp and began helping Lucas and David finish getting out of the ropes. "Gentlemen, I'm Sheriff Eaton from Canutillo. Either one of you want to tell me what happened here?"

David jumped at the question, wary of his brother telling the whole story. "These men shot and killed my wife. I had two of them at gunpoint, but the other one came back to camp and got the drop on me."

Again, the sheriff thought back to the poster that had come across his desk a few days prior. "...McCain, isn't? These are the three men wanted for the murder of Susannah McCain?"

Lucas watched as his brother slowly nodded. "...I'm her husband… was her husband. David McCain."

"And you must be his brother?"

Lucas looked at the man curiously, wondering how the sheriff could have known that. "...Yes sir. Lucas McCain." He hesitated to explain further, torn between his brother and the law.

"We best get back to town. Looks like the two of you both need to be looked over by the doc."

"I don't know how you found us," David began, "But thank you."

"Don't thank me, thank your nephew."

"My nephew?"

While David's brow furrowed in confusion, Lucas closed his eyes, concern and regret shadowing his face as he whispered his son's name.

"Sure, tore into my office yelling about the two of you being in trouble."

David turned to his brother in shock. "Lucas, did you know Mark was out here?!"

"No," he quietly answered. "...But I should have. I should have…"

"...Well I don't know why he was out here, but if it weren't for him, we wouldn't have known about you being here. You two have horses?"

Both men nodded, Lucas rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"If you go ahead and get mounted up, we'll start back to town shortly."

David started to walk away with the sheriff, but felt his brother suddenly grab his arm.

"What?"

"Twenty-four hours, David. It'll be best if you turn yourself in. But if you don't, I will."

"Lucas, how could-"

"Twenty-four hours."

---

Mark watched from the hotel lobby as three men rode up to the doctor's office, breathing a sigh of relief as the street lamp illuminated his father's face. He waited for them to enter the building before slowly standing and painfully making his way to the clinic. Careful to keep himself hidden, Mark pressed himself against the outside of the building, listening to the voices that came through the open window. Mark finally heard the doctor tell his pa that no permanent damage had been done and that the rancher would be back to his old self in a few days.

Knowing he had a limited opportunity to get out of town before he was spotted, the young man made his way to the livery as quickly as his injuries would allow. He led BlueBoy from his stall and prepared to saddle the horse, only to find that the weight was too much on his injuries. Just as Mark dropped the saddle back onto the sawhorse, his father's voice echoed behind him.

"What are you doing, Son?"

Mark froze in place, eventually letting out a deep breath as he turned around to face Lucas.

"...Pa," he quietly greeted.

Lucas took several long strides towards his son, closing the gap between them. "I asked you a question."

"...I didn't want you to know. I didn't want to worry you. I knew you'd be upset if you found out I had followed you, so I… I thought I might be able to make it home before you did."

"Don't you think the sheriff would have told me how he knew what was going on?"

"...I guess I didn't think that one all the way through."

Lucas let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head. There was a long silence before he again turned towards his son. "Mark, what were you thinking?! Do you have any idea what these men would have done to you if they had caught you?!"

"...They probably would have killed me."

"Then why, Mark?! I told you to stay with Micah!"

"I couldn't just let you ride in there alone!"

"Yes, you could have!"

"You said it yourself, Pa. You said you had a responsibility to stand by Uncle David, the same way you and me stand by each other. If you didn't mean having his back, looking out for him; if you didn't mean standing by him regardless of the consequences, then what did you mean?"

"Son, that's different!"

"No it's not! Flesh and blood; isn't that what you said? Isn't that what we are?"

"I'm not his son!"

"Exactly! If you went riding off after a brother you haven't spoken to in twenty-five years, how could you expect me to just sit back and do nothing?!"

"Because I expect you to do what I tell you!"

"But if I had, you'd be dead!"

A heavy silence settled over the livery as Lucas watched the tears form in his son's eyes. The rancher's expression began to soften, realizing his son hadn't acted out of defiance, but out of love.

"...Mark," he gently began, "I would have found a way. I told you I would be back."

Mark pushed the tears away as he tried to find his voice again. "...Pa, you might have had every intention of keeping that promise, but you know as well as I do that we don't get to decide when we die. When… when my…"

"Mark…"

"Please, just hear me out."

Lucas hesitantly nodded, taking in a deep breath and slowly letting it out.

"...When my mother died, you packed everything up and we left everyone I had ever known behind. From that point on, it was just you and me. You were all I had left. And yet, I was forced to stand back and watch as you nearly got yourself killed over and over again. I watched you get beat up, and dragged, and whipped, and shot. And each time, I couldn't help but wonder if there was something I could have done. If somehow, it was my fault. If there was some way I could have prevented it. But this time was different. This time, I knew there was something I could do. Or at least, something I could try. ...You said once that we made a good team; that we were going to last a long time. But it was conditional- it was as long as we looked out for each other. …So no, Pa. I couldn't let you ride off on your own. I couldn't sit back and let those men kill you. And I wasn't going to let your attempt to protect me be the reason you died."

Lucas took one last step forward, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "...Mark, you have to understand… I want life for you. I don't want it cut short because of a mistake I made."

"Then you understand why I did what I did."

Lucas's brow furrowed in confusion. "This isn't your fault. You had nothing to do with what happened."

"No, I didn't. But if I had made the mistake of staying home, your life would have been cut short."

Lucas closed his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. He didn't know what else to say. He didn't know how else to get through to his son.

"...I am sorry for yelling, Pa. I… I didn't mean any disrespect."

"So am I. Mark… I don't know if I'll ever be able to say I approve of the choice you made. …But I can say thank you, because I know you made it out of love."

"...Thanks, Pa."

There was so much more Lucas wanted to discuss. He wanted to know how his son had been injured, and why he had kept it a secret. …But deep down, Lucas knew Mark needed to bring it up, first. He needed to know that his son wasn't afraid to be honest with him. "...Why don't you go get us a room at the hotel? I'll take care of BlueBoy."

"Are you sure?"

"I need to get Razor over here, anyway."

"I'll wait for you in the lobby." Careful to conceal his injuries, Mark started to walk out of the stable, but suddenly stopped. "...Pa, what about Uncle David? Is he alright?"

"He'll be fine."

"...Are you going to turn him in?"

Lucas shook his head. "I don't have to. He already turned himself in."

"...I'm glad. I mean, I'm glad you didn't have to be the one to turn him in."

"Me too."

---

It was nearly six o'clock the following morning when Lucas woke to find his son blankly staring out the window. The tall rancher threw his blankets aside and slowly crossed the room, placing a hand on the back of Mark's chair.

"Son, are you alright?"

Mark jumped, relaxing as he realized it was just his pa.

"Didn't mean to startle you."

"It's alright. …Pa, there's something I need to tell you."

Lucas sat down on the foot of the bed, concerned by the struggle he saw in his son's eyes. "I'm listening."

"...I didn't exactly tell you everything that happened at Uncle David's. I… left something out." When his pa didn't say anything, Mark went on, "...Like I said, they had me and Aunt Susannah tied up. I tried to work my way out of the ropes. They finally gave way… but that was about the same time Clyde started threatening to shoot Aunt Susannah. I was afraid that if I moved, it might startle him into shooting."

Lucas nodded, yet remained silent.

"...But one of the other men was standing in the corner of the room. He was whittling a piece of wood… his gun was in the holster. So as soon as… as soon as Clyde… as soon as he shot Aunt Susannah, I tried getting the other man's gun. And I almost had it. ...But that's when he stabbed me. He pulled the knife out and stabbed me again before the third man came running inside and said someone was coming. …The doctor in Houston said it wasn't serious, but he had to repair some minor damage." Mark again turned to Lucas, expecting him to say something, but he didn't. "...When I followed you last night, when those men caught you… I knew I wouldn't stand a chance against the three of them. I didn't know how long they would wait before… before killing you. ...But I also remembered Uncle David saying that Clyde was going to the only place he felt safe. And I knew that if there even was law in the town you had stopped at earlier that evening, they probably couldn't be trusted. So I raced BlueBoy here, and in the process I ended up tearing open my wounds again and causing more damage. After Sheriff Eaton left town, the deputy got the doctor so he could look me over and put new stitches in." Mark looked at Lucas for a long time. To his confusion, he didn't see surprise or anger in his pa's face. Only concern and… hurt. Finally, he realized why. "...You knew, didn't you?"

"Your uncle and the doctor told me about your injuries last night. I didn't know how it happened, but I knew you were hurt. And I can't tell you how hard it was to watch you try to do everything on your own."

"...Why didn't you say anything?"

Lucas let out a heavy sigh before answering. "Because you had made the choice to hide it from me, and I wanted… I needed you to make the choice to tell me the truth."

"...Pa, I'm sorry. When I was in Houston… it was just too much to explain. I didn't want to worry you and… when Uncle David told me his side of things… I needed time to think. … I was afraid that if you knew, you'd come out. So I used Uncle David as an excuse for telling you to stay home. And once I got home… I didn't really have much of a chance to tell you. I was going to, but as soon as I got to Aunt Susannah being shot… the conversation turned and you were all of a sudden wanting to go after Uncle David."

"And last night?"

"...I didn't know how to tell you. I thought you would be upset and I didn't… I didn't want to start arguing again."

Lucas nodded in understanding, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "Mark, you should have told me. But we can't change the past… and I can see why you waited. Moving forward, I just need you to be honest with me about how you're feeling. I don't want you over doing it."

"Yes sir."

Lucas looked his son over, hesitating to say what was on his mind.

"...Pa, is everything alright?"

"I don't mean to pry. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but I know you didn't sleep well last night… tossing and turning, calling out. Are you alright?"

Mark shrugged his shoulders as he shifted his gaze back towards the street. "...I've seen… I don't know how many people get killed. And it's not like I really knew Aunt Susannah… but it was just different. It's… it's been a lot harder to put from my mind… to move on."

"...It's alright to grieve."

"...It makes me so sick just thinking about it," he quietly stated. "He didn't have to kill her. He should have seen that killing her wasn't going to get him what he wanted. But he could… so he did."

"Son… I'm sorry you were there."

Mark looked to his pa in confusion. "I wish it had never happened, but I'm glad I was there. If I hadn't gone on that trip… if I wasn't there to know Uncle David was going after those men, they probably would have killed him by now. ...I think it's just going to take a while to come to terms with what happened. ...Everything that happened."

Lucas stood, patting his son's shoulder. "As much or as little as you want to talk about it, I'm here."

"I know, Pa. …Thank you."

"Are you hungry at all? I reckon the kitchen is open by now."

"Go ahead… I think I'm going to try to sleep a while longer."

"Are you sure?"

Mark nodded, grabbing the windowsill for support as he started to stand. Seeing his son's struggle, Lucas quickly reached out to steady him and helped him to bed.

"You're sure you're going to be alright?"

"Yeah, it's just getting up and down that's the hardest. I'll be fine." Mark could see the doubt in his pa's eyes and went on, "Really, Pa. it's not all that bad when I'm laying down."

"I want you to stay in that bed until I get back."

"Yes sir."

---

"McCain, you have a visitor."

David looked up, surprised to see Lucas walking into the cell.

"Holler when you're through." The sheriff returned to the front office, leaving the two brothers alone.

"...Luke, what are you doing here?"

"I figured you and me had some things to finish discussing."

"...Where's Mark? Is he alright?"

"Asleep at the hotel. And he's as good a place as any to start. How could you let him travel home, by himself, in that condition?"

"Don't you start blaming me for all this. I sent him home so he'd be safe. I figured Clyde and them were headed this way, but I didn't want to take the chance of them coming back to the ranch and finding Mark. You know what they would've done to him."

"I'm not blaming you," Lucas adamantly answered. "Mark knew there would be consequences if he followed after me, and that was solely his choice. He and I already had a long discussion about that. …After seeing how bad he was… it upset me you let him go. ...But thank you for trying to protect him."

"...If I would've been thinking a little clearer, I would've sent Chester with him. I just wanted him out of the picture so I could focus."

"...I know the feeling."

"...Lucas, I am sorry for all those assumptions. For worrying Mark about you hiding the money and escaping from prison. For telling him you killed Zeb. But you have to understand, I thought it was the truth."

"If you would have read any of my letters, you would have known it wasn't."

"Lucas, what'd you expect?"

"I expected you to read them. I wouldn't have sent them otherwise."

"I thought you killed my closest friend… my only friend. I thought you took off with all that money… which is somewhat true."

"I turned it over to the authorities, David. I didn't 'take off' with it. If you were so set against me, why did you invite Mark to go visit?"

"...You don't want to know."

"What, to set him against me?" Lucas looked at his brother for a long time before shaking his head.

"Well if you thought I was so crooked and bad-off, why'd you let him come?"

"Because I thought maybe you had changed. I thought my son should have the opportunity to get to know his uncle for who he is, not someone he used to be. But I can see I was wrong. I can see you haven't changed one bit."

"...I have changed, Lucas."

"Says the man that was threatening me over stolen money."

"It wasn't over the money! It was over the fact that my wife is now dead because you turned the money in! If you would've just ridden out, even if you had only turned yourself in, none of this would have happened!"

Lucas was quiet for a long time before answering. "...David, I regret not being forthright about turning the money and the others in. But I was sixteen. Imagine Mark turning in three hardened criminals."

"My point exactly! How stupid could you be?"

"We can sit here and blame each other all day. Yes, I turned them in. Yes, I took the money. No, I didn't tell anyone what I did. But you didn't either. If you had turned yourself in, Clyde wouldn't have come knocking on your front door. If you and Mark hadn't gone shooting, maybe you would have seen them coming. There are a hundred different things that could have changed the course of what happened that day, but there's only one person you can blame for what happened. And that's the man who pulled the trigger."

David collapsed onto the bunk, holding his head in his hands. He finally looked up at his brother, a lone tear escaping his eye.

"I didn't even get to say goodbye," he coarsely whispered. "I spent her last minutes with your son, telling him the lies I had come to believe, because I didn't want you coming. If… if I had read those letters… if I had been willing to forgive what I thought you had done…"

"It's not your fault, David." Again seeing that familiar grief in his brother's eyes, Lucas sat down beside him, knowing he was going to be there for quite some time.

---

Mark looked up from the bed as Lucas entered the hotel room. To his surprise, Mark could see that his father had been crying.

"...Pa, are you alright?"

Lucas walked to his son's bed and sat down beside him. He swallowed hard, trying to rein in his emotions. "...I'm fine," he assured, forcing a smile.

"I saw you cross the street… did things not go well between you and Uncle David?"

"Things were a bit rough at the start, but we've made amends."

"...Then what's wrong?" The concern was evident in Mark's voice as he looked deep into his father's eyes.

"Nothing, I'm alright. David… he needed to talk about it; about losing Susannah. I…" Lucas shook his head. "I haven't talked about… about losing your mother in such great detail since…" There were a few moments of silence before he went on, "...I don't know if I've ever said out loud the things I told him."

Mark was quiet as he continued to look at his pa. Though there was grief written all over Lucas's face, he could see the glimmer of hope and acceptance in his father's eyes.

"...Pa, I'm glad you're alright. That you're here. That… that I didn't lose you, too."

"So am I, Son." Lucas again smiled at Mark; this time with a relaxed grin.

A knock sounded at the door, causing Lucas to stand to answer it. He was soon letting the doctor inside the room, thanking him for coming.

"No trouble at all. Had another patient down the hall, anyways. Now, which one of you is first?"

Mark and Lucas exchanged glances before Lucas asked the doctor to look his son over. He watched as the man pulled back the bandages, worry shadowing his face when the wounds were revealed.

"Well, Mark, that looks like it's doing nicely."

"Nicely?" Lucas asked. "You call that-"

"Pa," Mark interrupted. "I'm alright."

"Don't worry, Mr. McCain. It looks angrier than it is. He keeps this dry and bandaged, doesn't ride or do anything strenuous for a few weeks, he'll be fine. I don't have any concerns from what I'm seeing." The doctor put a clean bandage on Mark before turning to Lucas. "Now, let me take a look at you."

After examining Lucas, Doc Reuben simply repeated that the rancher would be alright in a few days' time. "Just don't go over-doing it before then."

Lucas thanked the doctor and saw him out. After the door closed, Mark watched his father turn around and immediately saw how upset he was.

"Now, Pa…"

"No, Mark." Lucas strode across the room as he pointed a finger at his son. "We've already discussed you following after me. I still don't like it, but it is what it is. But you trying to ride out of town last night, with a wound like that?! Son, what were you thinking?"

"...I guess I was trying to protect you from too much."

Lucas could see the apology in his son's eyes. He let out a deep breath and again sat down beside him. "...Protect me?"

"Like I said this morning, I didn't want you to worry. Not just about the fact that I had followed you, or even that I had been stabbed. I didn't want you to see it, how bad it looks; I didn't want you to have to worry about it." Mark looked away as he went on, "...I give you enough trouble already, always getting in the way."

It pained Lucas to hear the words his son spoke. The rancher reached out, gently putting a hand on Mark's shoulder. "Look at me."

Mark hesitated before obeying.

"You are not trouble, and you are certainly not in the way. You are my son and I love you. Without you, I couldn't go on. And without you, I wouldn't be alive right now. So you see, I can't let you go riding off with an injury like that. If something happens to you, who's going to watch my back?"

Mark and Lucas looked at each other for a moment before cracking faint smiles. Mark's smile faded, however, before answering Lucas. "...I am sorry, Pa."

"I know you are. As we've both come to learn, best to forgive and forget."

"...Maybe not forget."

"Oh?"

"I don't want to forget what it felt like to see you ride into town. I don't want to forget the relief I felt when I heard the doctor say you were going to be alright. I don't want to forget this moment… how everything might not be right in the world, but everything is right between us; I don't want to forget how that's all that matters."

A soft smile crossed Lucas's face as his son spoke. Mark was right; it wasn't something to forget. It was something to cherish.

---

"Mark, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in bed? Does Luke know you're here?"

Mark slowly walked to the door of his uncle's cell as he answered. "The doctor wanted me to get a little exercise before we take the stage back home tomorrow. Pa said I could come by."

"I take it you're doing better, then."

"Some," Mark answered with a passive nod.

"Boy, what were you thinking riding all the way out here? You know you could've gotten yourself killed?"

"And you and Pa would've both been killed if I hadn't shown up."

"...Well I'm glad you came by. There's something I wanted to discuss with you."

"There was?"

David nodded. "As you know, my children haven't wanted to have anything to do with me or their mother for most of ten years now. The last thing I want is my land going to them. So I'm making arrangements to see that my land and property are turned over to you."

"...To me?" Mark's brow furrowed in confusion. "What about when you get out?"

"...That's not going to happen."

"But-"

"Just trust me. …Mark, let me do this. Your visit… it means more to me than you will ever know. Chester can run the place until you finish your schooling. It'll do me good, knowing it's being taken care of. That place was the one thing I put hard, honest work into."

Mark thought for a long moment before asking, "...You're being charged with more than the stagecoach robbery, aren't you?"

David hesitated before letting out a deep sigh. "...I am. …Please, leave it at that for now."

"...Alright."

"...I know these last few weeks didn't turn out like you thought they would. I wish your visit hadn't resulted in you learning so many hard truths. But I do hope you can take a look at the mistakes your pa and me made, and figure out how to not do the same."

Mark nodded. "...Uncle David, I am glad I got to meet you. ...When you're settled wherever they take you, you will write, won't you?"

David gave a sad smile. "Sure, boy. If I can."

---

"Mark," Lucas called, nudging his son awake. "We're pulling into North Fork."

Mark sat up and started to stretch his frame, stopping as he felt the strain in his side.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah. It'll sure be nice to get home."

As the stage came to a stop, Lucas looked out the window to see Micah crossing the street; surprise suddenly coming over the marshal's face.

"Lucas? Mark? Where have you two been?! We've been wiring all over the place for you!"

"It's a long story, Micah," Lucas answered as he stepped out of the stage.

"Well I've got plenty of time to listen! We were worried…" Micah quieted as he watched Lucas help Mark slowly get down from the coach. "Mark, are you alright? What happened?"

"...Like Pa said, it's kind of a long story."

"Well then why don't you join me for supper at the hotel and tell me about it? The two of you can't just disappear for a week like that!"

"Mark was pretty eager to get home," Lucas stated with feigned seriousness.

"I'm not that eager!"

Lucas chuckled at his son's expression. "I'll take care of the horses and see about renting a buckboard from Nils, then meet you two over there."

Over supper, Lucas and Mark explained their sudden disappearance, apologizing for not wiring.

"...I didn't think about the fact that you might come out to the ranch and find us gone," Lucas concluded.

"I might not have, but Nils said Mark had come home and when the two of you didn't come into town Saturday, I knew something was wrong."

"I told Mr. MacDonald we were taking care of family business when I asked him to return the livery horse," Mark said. "I'm surprised he didn't mention it to Nils."

"Well he didn't. Why didn't you tell me what was going on, Lucas? I would have ridden with you."

"There wasn't time," he simply answered.

Micah then turned to Mark, eyebrows raised.

"I already had a good hour to make up because I had to go to the MacDonalds'. I couldn't ride all the way into town to tell you what was going on."

"If you two ever do something like this again…"

"Lucas McCain!" All three turned to see Lou storming into the restaurant. "Where on earth have ya been? We've been worried sick about the two of you!"

Lucas and Mark looked at each other before sighing and starting their explanation over again. They spent a while longer at the hotel, getting back in Micah and Lou's good graces before finally heading to the ranch.

Father and son were both looking forward to being back in their own beds and turned in early that evening. But while it felt good to finally be home, neither found it easy to fall asleep. It was nearing midnight when Lucas heard his son's voice break the silence.

"...Pa, are you awake?"

"Yes. What is it?"

"...Uncle David. He's being charged with murder, isn't he?"

Lucas's brow furrowed in confusion as he turned onto his side and looked at his son. "...What makes you think that?"

"...Just a feeling. The things he said, the way he was acting."

"...He's not being charged with murder, son. …But he is being charged with manslaughter."

"...Before I went to Houston, did you know he was running from those charges, too?"

"No, I didn't. He told me when he explained that he was leaving you the ranch."

"...Uncle David said that the ranch was the one thing he ever put honest work into. Do you think that was true? That he… he didn't pay for it with… stolen money or… blood money?"

"I don't know. I'd like to think it was true."

"...I know Uncle David didn't want me knowing. And I won't ask for details about what happened. But can you help me find out who he killed?"

"...Why, Son?"

"I think there's something I need to do…"

---

Dear Mr. Corey,

I trust this letter finds you and Ms. Grace well. Again, I would like to thank you for all the two of you have done for me, my uncle, and my aunt.

As I am sure you have been informed, my uncle was arrested and has been sentenced to life in prison for several crimes committed in his past. For reasons I still don't completely understand, he saw fit to leave his ranch to me. But I can't accept this in good conscience.

While I was in Houston, you said that there was no place for you to start over, and no sense in you making a home somewhere else. At first I found this difficult to understand, but while I know that what you were saying is much more complicated than this, I think I now see the sentimental reasons for your statement. For twenty years, you and your wife have worked for my uncle, helping him and my aunt turn that ranch into a home. That land became a part of you, as I know the home my pa and I have built together has become a part of me. I couldn't imagine leaving this place for anything, and I hope I am right in assuming that you wouldn't want to leave your home, either.

I delayed so long in writing to you because I wanted to be certain that everything was in order. As you will see in the documents I've included, I have turned all of my uncle's property over to you, with one condition. A widow by the name of Diadamia Wyman, living in Dallam County, Texas, lost her husband as a result of my uncle's crimes. I would like to see ten percent of the ranch's quarterly profits sent to her for the rest of her life, and if any of her daughters are still unmarried after her death, I would ask that they continue to receive that quarterly sum until their marriage or passing. The rest is yours to do with as you wish, and I hope you are able to use some of that money to locate your children.

It was an honor to become acquainted with you and your wife during my stay in Houston. I would like it if one day we could meet again, and my pa and I would like to extend an open invitation to you and Ms. Grace to stay at our ranch anytime you want to visit your brother and nephew's graves.

Thank you again for your kindness and faithfulness to the McCain family. It will never be forgotten.

Respectfully,

Mark W. McCain