Barlow called Taylor's drugstore on Tuesday to place an order to be delivered. He had been working from home since the Spring Dance over a week before. He preferred to be at the office but the fewer people who saw the blackened eyes from his altercation with Longmire the better. The bruising on his face was starting to turn to that sickly greenish, yellow color that showed it was healing, but it was still quite noticeable. He had hoped it would fade quicker than it had. He had never missed that many days at work before but being the type of boss he was, everyone knew better than to question him about it. He could still work through conference calls and he kept a courier running between the office and the ranch several times a day to take paperwork back and forth, leaving it on the porch so Barlow didn't have to see anyone.

After Walt and Martha left the dance that Saturday night Barlow had gotten up and made his way to the bathroom down the hall to wash his face and stuff some toilet tissue into his nostrils. It was enough to keep the still dripping blood from running down into his mouth. He figured he could replace it when he got home. That was one advantage of all the time he had spent at the drugstore: he had plenty of first aid supplies on hand. He left the community center through the back exit, thankful he could escape without having to navigate the crowd and risk someone asking questions about what had happened to him. He wasn't going to take a bloody shirt to the cleaners so he dropped both his shirt and sport-coat in the dumpster in the parking lot before he got into his truck to drive home. He was glad the weather had warmed up a little so he didn't freeze in his undershirt and slacks. After he got home and replaced the temporary packing in his nose with clean gauze from his medicine cabinet, he grabbed a bottle of scotch from the liquor cabinet and drank himself into oblivion. He hadn't seen any reason not to. By the time he woke up the next day it was early afternoon. He was a little surprised to see how rough he looked when he made his way into the bathroom. He had always heard that a broken nose could blacken your eyes but he had hoped he would be one of the lucky ones for whom it didn't. He was wrong. That son of a bitch had hit him hard. His nose looked crooked but he hoped it was just the swelling. He would wait a few days and see how it looked then before deciding if the doctor needed to come and check it out. He really didn't want it to have to be reset. That Monday was Memorial Day and his offices were closed but he had called first thing Tuesday morning and arranged for all his work calls to be forwarded to his home number. He would go back to the office as soon as the bruising had faded.

Barlow checked his watch. It was around the time Martha typically left the drugstore to start making her deliveries. Since this one was to his home and not his office, he knew she would deliver it last so she could get the other customers their things in a timely manner. He decided to go sit out on in the courtyard to wait for her. It was a nice, sunny afternoon and he thought she might be more comfortable talking out there than inside his house, especially considering what had happened the last time he saw her.

Barlow had been sitting outside about 15 minutes when he heard a vehicle coming up the drive. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Martha was earlier than he expected. He wasn't sure he was ready to see her but he knew he couldn't put it off any longer. Besides he was tired of waiting. He had waited long enough for that girl and it was time she started to act reasonably. They were going to talk this out once and for all. He heard the vehicle stop and a door close but when he turned it was not Martha walking toward him but his older brother. This was not a pleasant surprise.

Barlow's greeting was cold, "Lucian." He and his brother had not gotten along for many years but the animosity Barlow felt for him had grown exponentially since Lucian had become a deputy and then Sheriff.

"Barlow."

"What brings you out here?"

Not one to waste words, Lucian got right to the point of his visit, "I was in the drugstore today and saw Charles while I was there. He says you've been hanging around a lot lately."

"Charles Taylor needs to mind his own damn business."

"The way I see it, that's what he's doing. It's his store after all."

"Did he send you out here? I know you coming to see me couldn't have been your idea."

"No he didn't send me. I offered to come out for him. He was getting ready to bring you a delivery, but, I thought that sounded a little strange. Everyone knows that Gilbreath girl has been doing most of the drugstore's deliveries for the better part of a year and a half. Now, why do you suppose he was bringing this one out to you instead of sending her?"

Lucian handed Barlow the package he brought with him.

Barlow was fighting to keep his anger under control. Martha wasn't coming. He couldn't see her today. He couldn't talk any sense into her. He was barely able to maintain his self control, "Why are you asking me that question? I can't speak to what the man does or does not do."

Barlow stared at him for a moment with no response. Then he shifted his weight on his feet to coincide with a shift he would make in the conversation.

"Had a visitor in my office the first of last week that you may be interested in knowing about."

Barlow sighed. He was quickly tiring of his brother's incessant talking, "Why would I care who comes to see you?"

"It was a young man by the name of Walt Longmire. You remember him? He used to come out to the ranch with his daddy when he was a little boy."

Barlow's jaw tightened, "Yes, I remember Walt Longmire. Our father was obsessed with that boy. He harassed me to offer him a job and when I finally gave in to get him off my back, Longmire turned me down. What of him?"

"He came by Monday morning to tell me he had hit you in the gut and then the face. He thought he had broken your nose." Lucian peered closely at Barlow, "By the looks of that bruising, I'd say he was right."

"Why would he come tell you that?"

"Well, I asked him that and he told me that seeings as how he had assaulted the sheriff's brother, he thought he had better be a man and own up to it to save me the time of tracking him down in case you wanted to file charges against him. He must not know that we don't like each other much."

Barlow kept his eyes straight ahead, "Interesting story."

"So tell me, why did Walt Longmire hit you? He doesn't seem the type to do that sort of thing unprovoked."

"I've already told you I don't know why other people do the things they do. Now, you gave me my things from the drugstore. I think it's time you leave."

Lucian took a step toward Barlow, "Tell me about Martha."

"She's not your concern."

"The well being of the citizens of my county is most definitely my concern."

Barlow glared at Lucian, "Martha and I are friends. We have been developing our friendship for a long time and now that she is 18 and almost graduated from high school I have every intention of pursuing a more formal relationship with her."

"Friends, huh? Don't friends like to see each other, spend time together? From what I understand, Martha is refusing to bring your deliveries to you anymore and according to Charles Taylor, she said she's uncomfortable with your being in the store if she's working alone. So just what is this girl afraid of?"

"Don't get excited. She has no reason to be scared of me."

"Sounds like she might disagree with your assessment... You know I've seen her around town several times with Walt Longmire: eating at the Busy Bee, sitting together on a park bench, holding hands walking down the street. Now, he's confessed to hitting you and she wants nothing to do with you...Seems like more than a coincidence to me."

"Let it go Lucian."

"You know Barlow, life isn't like it used to be. You don't get everything you want anymore just because of who you are. Mom and Dad are gone and everyone else has caught on to your self serving ways."

Barlow stood up from the chair. He had had enough, "Is this an official visit, Sheriff?"

"No"

"Then you need to get the hell off my property."

Lucian walked back to his truck and opened the door before turning with some last words for his brother, "The girl has made her choice, Barlow. My advice is for you to back off. Find some nice woman from Sheridan or Gillette, someone who hasn't known you all her life, and settle down with her. But leave Martha Gilbreath and Walter Longmire alone."