"In being prepared physically, mentally, and morally to fight when necessary for that which is right."

They breakfasted on the last of the bread, toasted because it was going stale, with the rest of the berries smeared on it, and hot herbal tea.

The ranger looked down at himself and wrinkled his nose. "I need a bath," he said, and rubbed a hand over the dark stubble of his chin. "And a shave."

Tonto nodded without comment, and Kemosabe snorted. It was one of those things that was different between their races. White men quickly developed a much stronger odor than Tonto's people, if the matter was left unattended. The ranger gestured at the little pool that had served them so well. A trickle of water led from it, down the floor of the cave and out into the valley. "Is this the only water around?"

Tonto shook his head and pointed a bit to the left of the cave entrance. "Water join stream not far away."

"Good," the ranger said and got to his feet. He did it carefully but without any help, brushing off bits of leaves and small pebbles that stuck to his pants.

Tonto idly swirled the dregs of his tea in the metal cup, staring down at it. A sense of loss had been slowly creeping over him since the sun had woken them. He looked up again, watching Kemosabe as the ranger knelt next to the saddle that he'd been using as a pillow. He rested a hand on the leather, his smile from before gone. Tonto did not know which grave this saddle had belonged to, but he knew from Kemosabe's expression the first time he'd seen it that it was not the survivor's.

The ranger gave the saddle a small pat, as if thanking the owner, then flipped open one of the pouches. Extra clothing was a luxury most travelers in the west did not spare much space for, but the bag held one change of clothing and a compact shaving kit. He gave Tonto a little salute as he gathered these up, then headed out. "Adios."

A cold, leaden weight settled into Tonto's stomach. "Me hunt while you busy," he called after him.

"Thanks, Tonto," the ranger said over his shoulder, and then disappeared into the brush.

Tonto frowned, then shook off the feeling. He looked at the mask, laying across a rock. It seemed to him that it would cover less than half of Kemosabe's face. Anyone who had actually known him would still recognize him. His voice, in particular, was unmistakable. But Kemosabe only meant to hide his identity from the outlaws, so it would be enough. Still... Tonto thought it would be better if he looked as differently from before as possible.

Tonto looked down at the hats stacked neatly by the saddle. He did not know which was Kemosabe's, but all of the hats he'd gathered were shades of brown except for one. It was a pale cream, with a cord threaded through it that had kept it with its owner even after he'd fallen. Tonto picked it up, holding it carefully. This had been worn by the man wearing the black vest. This had belonged to Captain Dan Reid.

It was the most different, and seemed fitting. And so Tonto went further upstream to wash it, adjusted the shape of it so that even that did not look the same, then set it on a rock to dry. It was nearly noon by the time he returned with the raw materials for today's meals. He collected the hat on his way back to the cave, noting that the sun had bleached it whiter, and smiled. He liked the black and white contrast.

Tonto was greeted by the most amazing smell as he returned to camp. He set the hat down on a rock to finish drying before entering the shade of the cave and see what his friend was doing. Kemosabe had pulled up a rock to sit on, and was attempting to bandage his own shoulder. He would have gotten it done eventually, but there was no need. Tonto set down his freshly woven basket with its birds, herbs, and berries and took the cloth that had been serving as a sling away from him with a look of rebuke.

"Should wear sling, Kemosabe," Tonto said, when it became clear that he'd been trying to use it as a tie to keep the folded bandage on his shoulder in place.

The ranger shook his head. "It's healed enough."

Tonto hesitated, then sighed and wrapped the shoulder. That done, he helped the ranger get the shirt on, a long sleeved blue one made from cotton. When Kemosabe started to tie a bandana loosely about his neck in his customary manner, Tonto shook his head. The ranger paused, raising an eyebrow. "Tie different, Kemosabe. Not look same."

The ranger gave that a moment of thought, then nodded. "Good idea, Tonto," he said, and tossed the black paisley bandana back onto the saddlebag. The only other one was a plain red, and he chose that instead. He tied it sideways about his neck, higher up than was practical, and then looked at Tonto with a little flourish of his hands. "How's that?"

"Look like how big city tenderfoot wear," Tonto commented.

Kemosabe smiled. "That's about as different as I can make it."

Although Tonto could not stand to have anything about his neck whatsoever, he understood the practical and useful nature of the western bandana, so he did not suggest that the ranger forgo it entirely. He nodded, satisfied, then he took a deep breath. "What good smell, Kemosabe?"

The ranger pointed at the campfire. He had stirred up the fire, and had set a tall kettle near it before trying to do the bandage. Tonto had seen the kettle before, but its insides had not made sense to him so he'd left it alone. "Your tea is very good, Tonto, but I've missed my coffee."

"Coffee?"

The ranger's eyebrows rose. "You've never had coffee?"

Tonto had heard of it, of course, but he'd never had occasion to drink it. The only places that sold it usually wanted a fair amount of American coin for it, and Tonto had never cared to indulge his curiosity at that price. He shook his head.

Kemosabe poured two cups, and held one out. Tonto accepted it, sniffing cautiously as the ranger took a sip and sighed with contentment. It smelled very nice, not like anything he'd ever tried before. He took a mouthful, but the second the hot liquid hit his tongue he choked and spat it out on the ground.

The ranger laughed suddenly, a hearty sound that took them both a little by surprise. "I'm sorry," he said, sounding anything but as Tonto wiped his chin with his sleeve, "I shouldn't laugh. I guess you don't like it?"

Tonto stared at the cup as though it had betrayed him. "It not taste like it smell!"

Kemosabe made a little gesture with his cup. "Well, there are lots of ways to sweeten it, but I like it just the way it is." He took another contented sip, then gave Tonto an apologetic smile. "Though I've been told I do make it pretty strong."

His friend did not seem upset in the least, but this had been made by Kemosabe's own hand and Tonto did not want to reject the offering. He folded his legs and sat on the ground with determination.

"You don't have to drink it, Tonto," the ranger said, reaching for the cup. Tonto leaned away, mildly offended, and Kemosabe sighed. "Suit yourself."

Tonto took another drink, this time a more careful sip. He managed not to spit it out, but gave a quick shake of his head at the sharp, bitter kick of it. The ranger covered his mouth, trying to hide his smile, but Tonto did not mind. It was good to see that his spirit was healing as fast as his body. Tonto got used to the taste after a few mouthfuls, and there was something about it that started to grow on him.

When he was finished, though, he set the cup aside and began work on the birds. He glanced at Kemosabe once in a while, but the ranger was very quiet. He'd settled himself against the saddle again, working on a second cup of coffee. Not to sleep, or even really to rest, but just to get comfortable. He held one of the badges of the Texas Rangers in his hand, his thumb absently moving over its smooth surface. He could not wear it before Cavendish was captured, but his eyes were far away. Tonto did not think he was remembering... there was a cunning edge to the expression that made him think the ranger was planning. Tonto wished he knew what he was thinking, but smiled to himself.

Whatever it was, the Cavendish gang did not stand a chance.

Tonto skewered the birds and set them above the fire. They would take a little while to cook, and his stomach was already complaining about the light breakfast. He waited until the afternoon meal was ready before disturbing Kemosabe, handing him a plate. The ranger looked surprised, as though he's lost track of time, but thanked Tonto. But he was still preoccupied as they ate.

Tonto began to grow restless. He did not want to stay in the cave, but he didn't want to leave, either. There was nothing for him to do, and the uneasy feeling had spread from his stomach into his chest. His attention returned to Kemosabe, as it had a tendency to keep doing with more frequency, and he picked up the nearly empty medical kit. The ranger looked up from his thoughts when Tonto sat down in front of him, and did not object when he examined the head wound.

It still needed some time, but was essentially superficial now. He dabbed some of the salve on it, not because it really needed it but because it would help the inevitable scar. He didn't think Kemosabe was a vain man, but scars were identifying features. He smiled, pleased. "There, face wound all healed now."

The ranger met his eyes, and something changed. As if the words were some sort of catalyst, Kemosabe sat up straighter. He curled the fingers of his right hand into a fist, then opened his hand again, flexing the muscles to test his arm. "Let me have the mask."

A sense of anticipation curled around Tonto's heart as he obeyed, handing him the strip of black cloth. Kemosabe wrapped it around his eyes, shifting his face back and forth a couple times to settle it into place, and tied the back into a knot. "It fits perfectly – good job, Tonto."

Tonto rose as the ranger got stiffly to his feet. Kemosabe pressed a hand to his injured shoulder, flexing it a bit, but the bandages beneath had stayed in place. Tonto fetched the hat and held it out to him. "Here hat. Me wash in stream, dry in sun – make whiter."

The ranger took it, looking a little surprised. "Thanks, Tonto," he said as he ran his fingers over the brim.

Tonto waited for him to slip it onto his head before getting the gun belt. It was not the one he'd worn before but was plain leather, with only one holster, worn high on the hip in the way of the Texas Rangers to make drawing while in the saddle easier. The weapon was also nothing fancy, but Tonto had made certain it was cleaned, oiled, and in perfect working order. It was fully loaded, and the belt's ammunition loops stocked. "Here gun to kill bad men."

The ranger took it, strapping it about his waist as he spoke. "I'm not going to do any killing."

Tonto frowned. Kemosabe would certainly not be the first man to suffer more than physical wounds from surviving an experience like this, but he did not look as though he'd lost his nerve. His posture and demeanor shouted confidence and courage. "You not defend yourself?"

"Oh, I'll shoot if I have to," the ranger answered. "But I'll shoot to wound, not to kill. If a man must die, it's up to the law to decide that. Not the person behind a six shooter."

Tonto nodded. He had no problem with killing the Cavendish gang for what they'd done, but the ranger's way was better. The west needed law and order, not revenge. "That right, Kemosabe."

The ranger drew a slow breath and looked at him. "Well, there's just one more thing to be done."

Tonto thought everything was covered, and was plenty eager to go. "What that?"

"Dig another grave," he answered, and looked towards the row of wooden crosses. "Out there."

Kemosabe had just said he wasn't going to kill anyone, so Tonto tilted his head in confusion. "Who that for?"

"That'll be my grave."

There was a note of finality in his voice that Tonto found unsettling, but he did not argue as Kemosabe led the way. The ranger did not ask which marker belonged to his brother, so Tonto did not say. Together, they dug a sixth grave at the end of the row, piled rocks into it, and filled it back in. They used more rocks to outline the grave, as Tonto had done with the rest, and fashioned a matching cross made of branches.

"There," Tonto said, settling the last rock into place. "Just like others."

"That's good," the ranger said. His voice was very somber as he stared down at the grave, as though there really was some one buried there. Tonto supposed a part of Kemosabe's spirit would always remain here. "Only you, Tonto, know I'm alive. To the rest of the world I'm buried there... beside my brother and my friends. Forever."

Tonto looked at the graves. These men had ridden into this valley intent on stopping a murderous gang of outlaws, and had come to their end. They had all been checked, to confirm their deaths. Yet still, one man had survived. One man, determined to finish what the others had begun. "You all alone now," Tonto said, looking back at him. He began to doubt that one man alone could bring in the entire gang. "You last man. You lone ranger."

Kemosabe stared at the graves. "Yes, Tonto... I am a lone ranger."

Tonto had traveled the lands for many years. He had encountered many tribes, made many friends, but had been unable to stay in any one place for long. Always, his feet would grow restless and urge him to move on. He had not known what he searched for, only that he had not found it. Tonto had tried to help people, to repay some small portion of the debt he owed for his survival.

But the woes of his own people were too great for Tonto to help, not from within. What the government was doing was bad enough, but their plight was aggravated by lawless men. Men who provoked tribes into a war, so that they could 'legally' seize their lands. White men who painted their faces as the local tribe to raided trains, coaches, and farmhouses - and then stood by when the settlers sought retribution. Often, entire tribes were massacred for the actions of one frustrated renegade.

Tonto was not stupid, but he was not clever enough to outwit the outlaws of the west. He didn't understand them, did not know their ways. He'd tried to help white lawmen, but most would have nothing to do with him. He blinked as a flash of sunlight glinted off the metal hung from Kemosabe's neck, and suddenly Tonto's entire life fell into place.

Kemosabe was clever enough.

He was strong and brave and cunning. He was kind and generous and fair. Tonto believed in his ideals, even if reality constantly fell short. Kemosabe had saved Tonto's life, and then buried his mother and sister. Now Tonto had saved his life, and buried his brother. They were bound together by fate and the idea of moving on from here, not at this man's side, was unbearable.

"Kemosabe..." he said slowly, but even as the words formed in his throat the rightness of them strengthened his resolve. "Me help you fight outlaw."

"But, Tonto..." the ranger began, looking up. It was harder to read his expressions behind the mask, but his eyes were filled with concern. "Don't you have a family? Anyone?"

This was not one of their boyhood games. Neither of them was foolish enough not to realize that the ranger's task was a dangerous one, and he would not risk leaving a child fatherless. It was natural of Kemosabe to have thought he'd settled down somewhere and made a family, but Tonto swallowed, for that was a painful memory.

"No," he answered simply. "Me lone like you. Me want law here, too," he added. "For all."

The ranger'e eyes narrowed as he gazed at him a long moment, as if recalculating plans and ideas as he considered the offer. Tonto was completely set on this. No matter what Kemosabe said, he would go with him or follow behind. "All right, Tonto. You'll be a lot of help." He smiled, and clapped a hand to Tonto's shoulder. "We'll ride together."

Tonto's chest swelled with pride. He could not, nor would he ever be able to describe the sense of purpose and hope his life had just gained. "Me glad, Kemosabe. Me fight good for you."

As if this promise was some sort of herald, a shot rang out through the canyon.

The ranger's weapon was drawn faster than anything Tonto had ever seen. He had no time to marvel over that, though. "Take cover, Tonto!" Kemosabe shouted, firing in the general direction of the sound with one hand and shoving Tonto behind the large rock next to them with the other.

Tonto drew his legs in as far as he could, trying to make room, as Kemosabe crouched beside him, but the rock was not large enough for both of them. It had not served as adequate protection the last time it was used as cover, and it would not do so now. They knelt back to back, limbs exposed. Tonto had his gun drawn now, but did not know where to fire. The ranger took a quick breath and leaned around the rock long enough to fire another shot before ducking back down again.

"That's Collins," he said tersely. "The man that led us into ambush."

They both jerked their heads down as a chunk of their shelter blew away in a spray of jagged pebbles. At first Tonto thought the outlaws must have returned, but there was only the one gunman. It made no sense to him for only Collins to be here. "Why him shoot?"

"Undoubtedly he's after your horse," the ranger said, pointing over at Scout. The horse was prancing nervously, unsaddled and unbridled, uncertain where to go. "Collins must have been deserted by the outlaws. He's probably been making his way to that vantage point for some time now."

Tonto risked a peek over the top of the rock, ducking back down instantly. Another shot rang out, but this one was far off target and threw up a clod of dirt several feet behind them. Tonto was not surprised, now that he'd gotten a look at him. All Tonto had been able to see was a brief glimpse of the man's head, but it looked to be wrapped in bandages made from clothing. His poor aim was the only reason they were still alive.

He was perched quite a ways above their cave, behind a rock on a ledge. A bigger rock than theirs. It was a good spot for an ambush, but it did not make much sense for an injured man to climb to such heights. "Why him go there, Kemosabe?"

"He knows the only way to get Scout is to kill us," the ranger answered. "He's well protected up there."

Tonto supposed he was right, but he could have thought of several much easier ways to have killed them by now if he was in Collin's place. Perhaps this man Collins just wasn't very smart. Whatever his reasons, they were effectively pinned down. "What we do now?"

"I'm going to keep him under cover while you run for Scout," Kemosabe said. "Take Scout into the cave. Collins won't be able to see you from there."

Tonto looked over at his horse. Ordinarily he would not fear for Scout's safety, particularly if the horse was the prize. But the man's aim was so bad Tonto feared Scout might become an accidental casualty. Tonto did not know how his friend intended to get to safety, but this was the only plan that had any chance of working. Scout did not know Kemosabe, and would not obey as readily. "Me do."

"I'll follow as soon as you're safe," the ranger assured him when Tonto hesitated. "All right – run!"

The ranger leaned around the rock and fired two shots as Tonto bolted from cover, then a third as Tonto whistled to Scout and slapped at his flanks to get him moving. The horse whinnied in alarm, but obediently ran ahead of Tonto into the cave. Tonto spun around as the distinctive crack of the rifle echoed off the rocky walls, but Kemosabe was already halfway to the entrance.

"Did you hit him?" Tonto asked hopefully.

"No Tonto, I didn't try," he answered. "We're going to capture him alive."

"That plenty hard – him in good spot."

"Yes," the ranger agreed slowly, thinking, as he pulled several rounds from the loops of his gun belt and reloaded. "But I have an idea how we can do it. You start up the cliff up that side," he said, gesturing with the gun. "First tie up Scout. I'll draw his fire from the other side of the rocks."

Tonto quickly slipped Scout's bridle over his head and then tied the reins to a large rock inside the cave. Kemosabe had already made his way to the other side of the cave. He gave Tonto a quick nod, then stepped out from under the rocky overhang and fired up at Collins. Tonto slipped out of the cave on the opposite side, and began climbing.

The ranger and Collins exchanged fire several times, and soon Tonto had climbed above Collins without being noticed. He inched closer, intending to jump down on him, but Collins stopped firing to reload the rifle just as a small river of lose rocks slid out from under Tonto's foot. Collins looked up, his eyes going wide, and swung the rifle around. Tonto's breath froze, for he was completely exposed against the cliff wall. At this range, even Collins could not miss.

Tonto flinched as a gun fired, but it was Collins who suddenly cried out. The rifle flew from his hands to crash up against the rocks before sliding most of the way down to the ground. Tonto looked down with relief, to where Kemosabe had abandoned his cover and stood out in the open in order to make that shot.

Collins backed up into the corner of his shelter, but he wasn't a threat now. If he'd had a second weapon he would surely have used it by now. At the bottom, Tonto saw the ranger start to make his way up the wall. His western boots were not suitable for climbing rocks and his feet kept slipping, but Tonto could see his determination. He stayed where he was, for it was only fitting that Kemosabe be the one to capture this traitor.

When he looked down again, however, Collins had managed to wrench a large rock loose from the cliff side. "Kemosabe! Look out!"

The ranger looked up as Collins strained to lift the heavy rock first to his chest, where he rested a moment, before lifting it above his head. "I'll get you, Ranger!" The ranger tucked himself in as close as he could to the rock wall, but he was still an easy target. Collins leaned forward to drop the rock over the edge, but suddenly lost his balance. He let out a shriek as he plummeted to the ground, right past the ranger.

Tonto leaned as far forward as he dared, anxious to check on his friend, and smiled when Kemosabe gave him a short wave. They both began to make their way back down, the ranger being extra cautious in case Collins had somehow survived the fall. But when Tonto got to them, he was standing silently over the body.

"Him dead, Kemosabe," Tonto said apologetically, knowing his friend did not want to kill even this man. "But me glad. Him deserve to die."

"No, Tonto," the ranger said quietly. "No one should have his life end like this."

Tonto looked at the twisted, broken man. Kemosabe had vowed to bring criminals in alive, and the first one they'd encountered lay dead at his feet. Tonto was convinced this man deserved his fate, but he could understand at least some of his friend's disappointment. But Kemosabe was not to blame for this man's death.

"Better him dead," Tonto said, changing tactics. "Like white parson say, this act of providence. Now no one know you still live."

The ranger frowned in thought. "Yes... that is true. A strange act of providence has protected my secret."

Tonto pulled his knife from its sheath. The sun could bleach the bones of this man after the vultures had picked them clean as far as he was concerned, but he knew what Kemosabe would want done. "Me dig grave for him."

"All right," the ranger answered as Tonto knelt on the ground and wedged his blade into the earth. "I'll get Scout ready for travel."

Tonto did not shirk his task and did it properly. By the time he was done, the ranger had their camp unpacked. He'd piled all the supplies, including the extra saddle and tack, onto Scout, and was leading him by the reins. Kemosabe gave Scout many pats and encouraging words, but the horse was reluctant to follow him and kept balking. The only reason he'd gone as far as he had was because he'd come to associate him with Tonto. As soon as he saw Tonto, the horse picked up his feet and walked eagerly. "All set Tonto?"

"Me ready," Tonto answered, wiping the dirt from his knife and sliding it into its sheath. "We go after rest of Cavendish gang now?"

Kemosabe nodded. "As soon as we can. But I've got to get a mount of some sort. We'll head off towards wild horse valley. Here, take Scout. C'mon, boy," he added to the horse as he passed over the reins.

Tonto looked up, automatically checking the weather, but the skies were clear. He was glad to be on the move again, and even gladder for the purposeful stride to his steps.

Cavendish and his gang had gained some time, but it would not be long now.