8 months earlier

VIC

Surprisingly Barlow had called the shooting in himself, she was never sure if it was last minute guilt or just a way to make him look better in front of a jury. She and Ferg were in the office and raced out the door at speed, she was surprised when Ferg grabbed her arm and said urgently

"Let me drive, I know the fastest way there." Vic knew she was the better driver but he was right, he grew up in the area and knew all the shortcuts and back ways and threw him the keys. Ferg gunned his way out of Durant, lights and siren wailing, leaving a trail of dust and smoking tires and questioning faces behind them as they raced out of town. Bouncing in her seat, hanging onto the Jesus handle with one hand, calling the EMT with the other, Vic looked at Ferg with new respect, he was handling her rig with competency and confidence and absolutely hammering it down the road. She knew she couldn't have got them there any quicker.

She was half out the passenger door by the time Ferg bought them to a skidding stop, her Glock out and pointing at Barlow, who stood there, hands up, two shotguns broken open on the ground in front of him, and his son bleeding out on the ground a short distance away.

Throwing him a look of disgust "Ferg, cuff him and put him in the back of the truck and let the EMT know we have a gut shot GSW." Holstering her Glock Vic raced over to Branch who was still alive and ripped off her shirt, wadded it up and placed it firmly on the wreckage that had been his abdomen. Shot twice in the same area didn't look good, and he was pale and sweaty and screamed as she put necessary pressure on the wound.

"God Branch I'm sorry, this is going to hurt but we have to control the bleeding, help is on the way. Hang on Branch, hang on." The blood was oozing out too damn fast and she started to pray quietly under her breath you can take the girl out of the church but not the church out of the girl.

Weakly he reached up and tugged at her arm, saying something, and she leaned down to hear him, his eyes were unfocussed and his breathing ragged and hitched with pain "Tell Walt. Tell him I'm sorry." His eyes scrunched up in pain and he groaned a little "Its on my phone, tell Walt" he panted, getting paler and his grip loosened and his breath faded away "…..sorry" and his head lolled.

Swearing and crying she took his pulse and when she felt nothing under her fingers she sat back on her heels and screamed her distress to the uncaring blue sky. Unheeding of the tears streaming down her cheeks, or the blood covering her hands, more streaked across her white tank top and smeared across one cheek, she sat at the side of the wreckage of a fine man, a colleague and a friend and mourned his untimely and unnecessary loss.

WALT

He had been on his way to Nighthorse's office. Even alight with the need to avenge Martha's murder and bring the killer to whatever form of justice he could manage, the call from Ruby that one of his own had been shot was enough to change his destination. Nighthorse didn't know he was coming, didn't know he'd found all the missing puzzle pieces. He didn't know that Walt had finally allowed that banked simmering anger to flare into hot burning flames. Walt had paid the price for letting it burn too bright and too early in Denver and would always wear those scars, so he had waited, watched, learned to tamp down and use the anger as fuel to drive him forward.

Now he had what he needed, knew what he knew, and by all that was holy, Nighthorse was going to pay and pay hard for what he had done. For killing an innocent woman, who ironically was dying anyway, and ripping the heart out of the man who loved her, leaving him buried beneath the overwhelming guilt of failing to be there and protect her.

For so long he had burned, roasted on the fires of his guilt and grief. He knew it was all that had sustained him during the long dark period of his mourning, but he was blind to the fact it had consumed him as well. Hollowed out the shell of the man he had been until only anger, vengeance, despair and pain was left. So he drank, to numb the pain, all the hurt he couldn't stop, couldn't control and couldn't express.

Hector had said that 'Death was final, but pain stayed with you as long as you were alive' and he knew, oh he knew how true that was. So now he was going to take the moment and bring pain raining down upon those who had hurt him and his. Pain that would dog their every steps, keep them awake at night, and ache constantly during the long lonely days.

His thoughts churned as he took the corner that sent him in the direction of the Connolly family farm. Barlow had called it an accidental shooting, but Walt knew he was a crack shot, one of the few people in the county he considered an equal with himself. Even Omar respected Barlow's abilities with firearms. There was no way he could have shot Branch accidentally, so it must have been deliberate.

But why would a man like Barlow, so very proud of his family heritage and position in Wyoming society shoot his only son and heir?

Walt remembered one of the last conversations he had with Branch, before he finally resigned as Deputy. Frustrated at the lack of support at the time for his David Ridges case he had exclaimed "If I can't investigate it properly here, maybe I need to go somewhere I can!" Everyone had been surprised when he had joined the family firm, Branch had always rejected any thought of working for his father, claimed he had enough of being bossed around by him as a kid, didn't need it now.

Click Click Click wheels turned, wheels turned again, and a pattern began to emerge

With only half an ear on the radio he heard Vic and Ferg in transit, Vic calling in the EMT, Ferg calling in the GSW update and he knew it was bad he had a greater distance to travel, even taking the backroad shortcuts, the roads weren't sealed but that didn't stop him barrelling down, lights and sirens on.

His brain began to join the dots, assemble the new pieces. Maybe Branch had discovered something connecting Barlow to Nighthorse. In public they cordially loathed each other, but so much of their business was related, it was hard to see how they could avoid dealing with each other. The golf course Barlow was building was designed to cater to the high roller gamblers the new casino would bring in, whether deliberate or not, theirs was an unspoken partnership.

If the casino had failed then the golf course was equally doomed. Martha had been a prominent and vocal opponent of the casino, maybe one night over an expensive single malt an idea had been formed, a phonecall made, a meeting set and a proposal offered. Perhaps a gentlemens agreement over shaken hands, an exchange of money for services rendered, the services of David Ridges perhaps?

Walt gritted his teeth and snarled as he wrestled the big heavy truck through its sliding turns up towards the crest of the hill where he could see Vics truck parked. It was entirely plausible and the fact that Barlow had shot Branch was the clincher. There was no other explanation.

He didn't realise he was growling low and angry under his breath as he slammed out of the truck. He assessed the scene in one sweeping glance. Branch was dead, Vic kneeling at his side, hands bloody and her shirt wadded in the wound. Dismissing that as inconsequential to his immediate urgent need for answers, dammit, he stalked over to Vic's truck and opened the back door and with one hand hauled Barlow out roughly.

Teeth gritted in effort, he fisted his left hand in Barlows shirt and hoisted him up and slammed him against the truck hard, and then again for good measure. Forcing the words out between teeth clenched so hard his jaws ached

"Now I have your attention you bastard, tell me why your fucking business deal was so goddamn important you had to kill my wife for it?"

Half dazed Barlow shook his head, face bright red as he tried to force Walt to let him go. With his feet not actually touching the ground he didn't have the leverage, so instead made the mistake of trying to talk his way out of it

"Walt, fuck it wasn't me, it was Nighthorse" he wheezed short of breath, turning an even darker red but Walt was incensed and oblivious to his distress.

Walt closed his eyes for a moment and the words ripped his throat as he cried harshly "YOU KNEW! HOW COULD YOU KNOW AND NOT BE INVOLVED?" and Barlow raised his hands in defeat

"Let me down, God let me down and I will tell you everything"

With that his last control snapped and he roared, deep and heavy with anger and grief and hammered a right hook into Barlows face, whose head snapped back and then lolled as he passed out from impact and lack of air. Uncaring Walt slammed his fist a second time into Barlows ribs, snarling in grim satisfaction at the sound of at least one of them breaking under the impact.

Breathing heavily, Walt lowered his victim to the ground, and held him there and grated out "Fucking oath, you will tell me everything I need to know if I have to beat every single motherfucking word out of you, you motherless cunt" and Barlow coughed and groaned but out like a light.

He had been so focussed on Barlow he had forgotten everyone else there, but the sound of a Glock safety being clicked off behind him and the cold hard voice of his deputy speaking in a tone he had never heard her use before bought him back to reality.

"Longmire, let the man go or you will have the dubious honour of being the second one legged ex-Sheriff of Absaroka County". She sidled into his peripheral vision. He could see she had the Glock out, her stance was steady and prepared.

Unwilling to let Barlow go, and uncertain that she really would shoot him, he tucked his chin in mulishly and replied "You wouldn't shoot me Vic, I'm the Sheriff taking a suspect into custody."

Her voice was still cold and hard "Right now you are abusing a suspect in what's either an accidental or deliberate homicide. Also you are interfering with an active crime scene, MY crime scene. I note that the victim is one of our own, and was your Deputy for several years and yet you damn near stepped over his still warm body to beat the living shit out of his father."

She paused and firmed up her stance just a fraction "No court in this land would convict me if I shot you right now, in fact I would probably get a commendation and a promotion." She paused meaningfully, scorn undercutting her hard cold tone "Your job, you asshole. Now step away from Barlow."

Your tears are delicious to me, lovely readers :)

Song Inspirations:

Riot - One X

Bleed it Out - Linkin Park