SAT 19 (Though this is technically an additional crossover with Walker Texas Ranger, it can be read as simply an outsider POV)

Francis Gage walked into the Sheriff's office, stiff and reluctantly. It had been a long drive up from Texas and he wasn't sure the locals could help, but Walker had insisted. A woman in uniform greeted him.

"How can I help you?"

Gage produced his Texas Ranger badge and his gun licenses. "I'm here on vacation."

"Uh-huh," the sheriff answered doubtfully. "Who do you think is in my jurisdiction? And where?"

Gage could appreciate that kind of directness. "Gary Hoit, ma'am. And probably at Big Sioux Recreation Area. We have confirmation that he was in the area and he's been hiding out at campgrounds he visited as a child."

"Sheriff Mills," she corrected. She looked Gage over, one law enforcement officer evaluating another. "Or Jody. What did Hoit do?" She waited a beat before adding, "allegedly." She was well aware that Hoit was guilty but for legal purposes, she needed to say it.

"Killed a member of the Dallas PD. And shot at my partner." The docs had said that Sydney would pull through last Gage had heard, but it had been touch and go for three days. When the drugs had finally filtered out of her system, she was going to be furious with Gage and his 'vacation.'

"Well, I appreciate you checking in here at the office and I'm going to do you a favor. You have anything belong to Hoit? Any of the case files?"

"Yes ma'am. In the car."

"Jody. You don't look like a runner but i'm sure you have to keep in good shape for the Rangers."

"True," Gage wasn't sure where she was going with this.

"You go get them," she glanced at Gage's cowboy boots, "and change into running shoes. I'm going to make a phone call and get you a running partner."

"Ma'am?"

"Jody. The best tracker in the state is on my speed dial and he's back in town."

Gage grinned. "Thank you, Sheriff. I'll go get the files."

"You do that."

Gage returned with the case files first; Sheriff Mills might be able to translate the clues into something substantial. Then he retrieved his running clothes and changed in the bathroom. This time when Gage entered Mills' office, it was to be pinned by the sharp green gaze of a stranger. The man was younger than Gage, taller by an inch and with shoulders similar to his own. He was whipcord thin. He didn't move with the grace of someone trained in the martial arts but with the confidence of winning a thousand barroom fights. He was wearing a shoulder harness for his open carry, one that included at least two good size knives. He was wearing a rock band t-shirt, cargo pants and work boots. All were sweaty, he had been running. His phone was in his armband and earbuds were wrapped around his sleeve. Gage would bet his badge that he had at least one boot knife. This man could counter any trouble experienced on his run.

All told, the stranger was competent. The stranger seemed to have the same opinion of Gage. He offered his hand, "Name's Dean."

"Gage."

Dean put the case file and the t-shirt Gage had hoped to give to sniffer dogs back into the case box. He kept out Hoit's photo.

Sheriff Mills drew Gage's attention to a map on the wall. "Dean knows the lesser populated campsites at Big Sioux. When you find Hoit, chase him North away from all of the children's areas. I'll be waiting here at this fire trail to actually arrest him. Since neither of you actually can in this city. Understood?"

"Yes'm," said Gage. Dean just nodded.

"I'll see you there, boys. Dean, take care of our out-a-towner. If he gets shot on our turf, we'd have the Texas Rangers here by dinner time." She wasn't wrong.

Dean nodded again.

"You better go make your phone call while Gage here stretches."

Dean looked amused but left without argument or sound. Mills waited for Dean to leave before turning to Gage with an expecting eyebrow. "I wasn't joking about stretching. Dean runs more than a marathon worth of miles daily."

Gage was alarmed. "We're not driving to the park?"

"No."

Gage obediently started stretching.

"Dean's special," Mills said. "He's recovering from PTSD and having a quiet day so don't screw with him. He's ours so if you do something to him we won't leave enough pieces for even the Rangers to find."

"Understood." Gage could appreciate protecting one's own. After all, Gage was doing the same.

"Good. Go get your scumbag. And good luck keeping up with Dean."

Gage followed the order and found Dean on the sidewalk, hanging up the phone. The tracker started at a quick jog and when Gage proved he could match it, increased the pace. Gage was not one for silence but there was something about Dean that stalled his tongue. The miles flew under their feet and soon they were at the entrance. Dean led the way straight to the office for the parking and camping permits. The park ranger recognized Dean on sight. "Oh no. Do we have another missing kid?"

Dean shook his head and showed him Hoit's picture. Gage added his badge to the counter. "We're looking for a fugitive, sir."

The ranger double checked with Dean and at the silent man's nod, reported that Hoit was camping as far away from the general population as possible and that Dean knew where, since he had found several lost kids in the area. Then the ranger asked, "Does Sam know what you're doing? Is he on his way?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm fine for this," he growled.

The ranger hummphed. "Normally I have a hard time getting a word in edgewise around you when you're not tracking. So I ask again, does Sam know?"

"Jody made me call him."

"Good. I'll spread the word and we'll start evacuating that section of the park. Good luck hunting."

Dean's reply was a quick, feral grin. He exited at a jog, Gage at his heels and headed for the farthest campsite. They were nearly there when Dean tackled Gage without warning. Gage rolled over in time to hear the retort of a rifle and see the dirt kick up in the path. Hoit had been aiming for him.

"He's running," Dean murmured with satisfaction. "North."

From there Gage had to struggle to keep up with the tracker's sprint. Dean paused once, long enough to point out Hoit's brass for evidence but other than that Dean was tracking while running full tilt. Even Walker had to slow down to spot the minute clues. Gage could barely keep up. In fact, he couldn't. He stopped in the middle of the forest to listen and a rock hit his shoulder from above.

Dean was high on the rocks. Gage could see no path up, but it didn't matter. "Go east," the tracker ordered in a low voice pitched to carry to Gage and no further. "When you hit the fire trail, follow it back north west. Hoit's trying to avoid us."

Gage waved his hand to show that he heard and hurried east, as quietly as possible. He reached the fire trail without spotting Hoit and turned towards the meet. When he arrived, Mills was already reading Hoit his Miranda Rights and exchanging zip ties for handcuffs. Dean was only slightly dirtier than before but Hoit was filthy head to toe. It looked like he had been tackled in a mud pit.

Gage stepped to Dean's side and tilted his head the killer's way. "Tried to avoid you using water?"

Dean smirked. "Tried."

"Can I buy you a beer in thanks?"

Dean shook his head mournfully. "Not today."

Gage accepted the answer without fuss and opened his wallet to his business cards. He offered one to Dean. "I owe you one. Seriously. You can collect at anytime. I had expected to chase Hoit through all of the campgrounds in the northern states."

Dean accepted the business card and stuffed it into the lower pocket of the cargo pants.

"Do you have a business card? I'd like to be able to call you next time we know a fugitive is in your area."

Dean shook his head no.

Jody Mills was approaching, after securing Hoit in the back of her SUV. She heard and dug out her wallet. "I do." The card she handed Gage had 'Dean Smith, Private Dick' written on it.

Dean had been surprised at Mills' announcement, but now he was chortling at the title. He took a couple of Mills' extras for his own pocket and started meandering toward the park entrance through the woods.

"Gage, you want a ride back to the office or go with Dean to report Hoit's capture to the park rangers?"

It was a nice day and Gage would spend the night driving Hoit back to Texas to face justice (and Gage would be facing an irate partner). Gage indicated with his thumb that he'd follow Dean. Mills accepted the choice. "I'll have most of the paperwork done when you get to the office."

"Thank you... Jody," Gage said before hurrying to catch up to the local tracker. He wasn't surprised that Dean didn't offer conversation. He was surprised that he didn't miss it. Dean navigated back to the campsites flawlessly. He passed by a stream and Gage could see the imprint in the streambed where Hoit had been captured. Dean pointed at a discarded rifle and Gage stripped off his outer shirt so that he could carry it without adding fingerprints.

From there, Gage couldn't see any evidence of Hoit's run through the woods. "Could we swing by Hoit's campsite? I need the bullet casing as well." Dean nodded and changed directions straight to Hoit's camp. As expected, other than the bullets, nothing else was worth taking. Hoit travelled light and had a habit of hitchhiking from place to place. Dean accommodated Gage and his burdens by walking to the offices. The same park ranger as before was chatting with a young man with truly impressive build. Gage was used to being the biggest person in a room and it was odd to meet someone like Dean who matched him, let alone someone like this stranger who towered above. The stranger turned immediately at the sound of the door opening. He glanced at Gage but was concentrating on Dean.

"I'm fine, Sam," Dean grumbled.

So this was the Sam that everyone had mentioned. Sam didn't agree or argue with Dean. He did offer his hand to Gage. "Sam Wesson. I understand you're a Texas Ranger chasing a fugitive."

"Ranger Gage. We caught the fugitive, Gary Hoit," Gage said more for the park ranger than this able -but young- man. "We left his campsite. Keep or give away anything of use. Dispose of everything else. Hoit will never be back here."

The park ranger picked up the phone to pass on the news. Sam took the few steps forward so that he was shoulder to shoulder with the tracker.

"I've got my car, Ranger Gage. I'd be happy to drive you to the Sheriffs' office."

"I'd appreciate that." Gage would rather not lug evidence across town.

Dean shook Gage's hand in a silent farewell and started to jog in the opposite direction. Sam watched him go, disgruntled.

"He was quiet but excelled at the task," Gage tried to encourage the man.

Sam smiled, quick and bright. "You have no idea how 'quiet' is outside of Dean's normal. Getting his target is completely normal though. Car's over here."

Gage was suddenly facing a beaut of a Chevy muscle car. "Nice."

"She's Dean's," Sam admitted. "Come on, I'm sure Jody's waiting."

Gage slid into the car and enjoyed the easiest fugitive recovery of his life. Sam conversed easily with him about Hoit, his crimes and his attempted escape. The feeling didn't lessen when he received an e-mail two days later from Dean with a link to an article in the Sioux Falls Sentinel... written by Sam Wesson and mostly sourced from their 'friendly' conversation in the car. Someone should have warned Gage that Sam was a news reporter.

Still, Hoit was awaiting trial and Sydney was out of the hospital. Gage didn't have a reason to complain.