The sliding doors close behind me and I stop on the black strip of carpet designed to trap the snow, mud and dredge from the Wyoming weather. I'm solid. I head toward the nurses station and check for Barlow's room number which she promptly tells me is 324. Three-two-four, I repeat silently and turn the corner headed to my destiny, ready to end everything. I stand outside of the door, my fingers run over the numbers 3-2-4, I pause considering what is on the other side and I push the door open.

The unexpected set of three eyes staring back at me stops me in my tracks. Branch, Lucian and Henry stand at the foot of Barlow's bed in a semi-circle. Henry is the first to speak, "Walt."

A little stunned at his presence, "What are you two doing here?"

"I called the red puissant to pick me up and bring me over here." Lucian scowled.

Branch leaned against the foot of his father's bed. "Hey Walt." His eyes were red and swollen. His appearance disheveled and grief stricken. Lucian walks over to me and faces me, splitting my body in half, "I know what your thinkin', man but he's my brother and he's not worth it. Don't go ruinin' the rest of your life over scum like him. Never liked him, Walt, but he's blood."

I stare down at Lucian and rub my chin. My hand grips the top of my Colt just a little firmer. I nod down at Lucian acknowledging his words in silence.

"I want a few minutes alone here with Barlow." All three men stare at me and I stare back without flinching or moving my stance. I am deadly serious. Branch walks by me with his head hung low. Lucian and Henry follow behind, and Henry pauses, with his hand on my shoulder. He continues out of the door and it's just me and Barlow, alone.

The tubes flow out of his mouth and arms as the electronic devices buzz and hiss measuring every nuance of his life. To my disappointment, Barlow is unconscious, but I expected it. I consider ripping the tubes out of his throat and denying him the air to breathe but I grip the side of the bed and in a voice just above a steely whisper, "Barlow, I'm gonna believe you can hear me so I'm telling you what is going to happen. When you get out of this bed, and you will, I'm going to kill you. I am going to take back the life you stole from me. You never stood a chance with Martha because all the zeros in your bank account couldn't add up to the man she needed or wanted. The next time you see Jacob Nighthorse will be in hell."

Feeling the knot in my stomach grow and expand I turned from Barlow's bed and found my eyes looking at Henry.

"Are you standing guard or just standing."

"Both"

I nodded my head, my lips pursing at his acknowledgment.

"I have been on your 6 since we were eight years old, Walter, nothing has changed."

"I know"

"Besides, you have a very angry deputy who also has your best interests at heart and she telephoned me threatening bodily harm if I do not protect you by, I quote, any and all means necessary."

My bottom lip crushes upward and the sides of my lips fall down.

"You are a man of honor and you cannot deny your true character. The hatred you have cannot triumph over your spirit, Walter. You think you have a choice but you do not."

"Hmmmph, I just told someone else those same words not long ago."

"My point is proven."

Henry opens the door almost as if he is afraid the reprieve is very temporary. Branch and Lucian are holding up the wall in silence. Ferg is on the other side of the hall as white as a ghost.

"Walt, do you want me to go to the station and make a statement?"

"No, Branch. Ferg will take your statement."

Ferg steps forward a little nervous but with his head held high. "I got it, Walt." He looks over at Branch and nods, "Branch."

The two walk over to the break room and Ferg breaks out his notepad bound in leather and begins to scribe Branch's tale of Barlow's confession.

I turn my attention back to Henry, "Can you give me a ride to the station?"

"Lucian?"

"I'm gonna stay here a bit you two go off and play Cowboys and Indians."

The Cheyenne Nation and I turn our attention toward the exit as the automatic doors slide open. My stomach is still in knots partly because of Barlow but mainly because of the very pissed off deputy waiting for me at the station.