A/N: As always my thanks to mingsmommy for the beta.

Chapter: 18

Grissom knew he had to keep a safe distance. If he got too close, Warrick would surely hear him but if his suspicions were correct he knew where the blacksmith was heading anyway, so losing sight of him was no real issue.

As he trotted into town, he suddenly pulled Dante to a halt and cursed under his breath. He had come out at night: unprotected. He was in such a hurry to follow his new employee that he had forgotten he was unarmed and his rifle was in still in his cabin.

Well, there was nothing he could do about it now.

Giving Dante a quick tap, he cautiously trotted down the main street. Warrick was nowhere in sight but Grissom knew the one place in town where a poker game would take place. He was sure of it.

It was late and there weren't many people around but still, Grissom kept up his guard as he started towards the saloon. Pulling to a stop outside, he dismounted and clonked up the steps.

"Damn it," he grumbled. The outer door was down and it was locked but he knew there were still people inside, he could hear them.

Looking around he spotted the alley running down the side of the saloon. He hastily marched down the steps, grabbed Dante and slid into the alley way.

The alley was dark and uncomfortable, so the rancher insured he walked with speed, constantly checking over his shoulder. Within no time he came upon a gateway that he knew led to the saloon. Slipping through, he entered the establishment's back yard.

Immediately he spotted Warrick's horse tied up beside several others and shook his head. Now he knew he was here. Tying Dante up with the other horses he approached the back door and pushed.

It too, was locked.

It was obvious that at this hour, the only ones inside were the big spenders, the overnighters or those who had been invited. Rubbing his hand over his chin he considered his options. He soon discovered he didn't have any. He simply couldn't get inside without force and that wasn't even worth deliberating.

Leaving Dante in the yard, he returned to the front of the building. He knew at some point someone had to come out and those who had nothing to hide would exit through the front. So, he leaned against the woodwork and waited.

Soon enough, he heard the clank of the lock and the door opened. He tightened his stance against the building so who ever came out didn't see him.

"Thank you, Miss Heather," a man slurred as he stumbled through the door.

"No problem, Bob." Grissom heard Heather chuckle. "You take care now."

"Will do," the man finished as he almost fell down the steps but luckily for Grissom he never looked back.

As the door closed Grissom was quick to act and slipped his foot inside, preventing it from closing. Heather pulled the door back just as he stepped forward and she took a step back, a look of shock highlighting her face.

"Grissom?"

"Good evening, Heather."

"W…hat," she stuttered, "are you doing here?" She looked behind him, a little suspicious but when she saw he was alone he noticed she relaxed.

"Can I come in? I'm alone and I come in peace." He held up his hand with a smile.

Smiling, Heather stepped aside; allowing him to enter then locked the door quickly behind him.

Grissom swiftly eyed his surroundings. There were still at least a dozen people inside, most of them were highly intoxicated, several had women in their laps and the sound of drunken laughter filled the establishment. A number of suspicious eyes fell upon the rancher and he was quick to avert his gaze, not wanting to trigger any form of trouble.

"You know we're closed, Grissom, right?"

"I know that," he responded, returning his attention to the woman before him.

"Are you looking for," Heather looked him up and down, "a little, attention?"

Grissom grinned.

She stepped right up to him now. "You know I don't do that anymore but," she ran her finger softly down his cheek," in your case, I can make an exception, even if it's just for old time's sake."

Grissom's grin turned into a quaint smile and he puckered his lips, taking a step back. "I appreciate the offer, Heather, but that's not why I am here."

"Oh, well, too bad."

With his right brow ascending upwards, Grissom folded his arms and once again his eyes moved around the saloon. He detected several men in the corner were still watching him and the look they were presenting him with was not one of welcome.

"So what can I do for you?" The lady of the house asked, stepping towards the bar. "Would you like a drink?"

"No, thank you."

"So what do you want?" Her voice was now tinged with curiosity.

"A poker game."

Now, Heather's brow rose. "A poker game?"

Grissom nodded. "There is a poker game taking place right here, right now. Am I correct?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"I'm not here to cause trouble, Heather." Grissom quickly assured, watching as she walked behind the bar to pour herself a drink.

She smiled. "I didn't think you were, that's just not your style. But I'd still like to know why you are asking what you are."

"I have no interest in the game; I just want to know if Warrick Brown is back there."

"The blacksmith?"

Grissom nodded.

Snorting, Heather sipped from her glass.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing." She smiled. "Yeah, he's back there, paying his dues I'm sure."

Frowning, Grissom placed his palms on the bar. "I need to speak to him."

"No."

"Heather, please."

"I can not allow you to interrupt the game, Grissom. I am trusted by these people to keep their identity and the game a secret, for more reasons than one. You certainly do not want to cross the men at this table. If you do," she sipped her drink again, "bad things tend to happen."

Rubbing his hand over his chin, Grissom sighed. "I just need two minutes of his time, please?"

Placing her glass on the bar the former madam now sighed herself. "Wait here," she said and walked away, disappearing through a door at the far end of the bar.

Leaning forwards against the bar, Grissom waited but never let his eyes stray from the door.

Several minutes later, Heather returned, Warrick following. Immediately Grissom stood straight, his expression grim and when the blacksmith saw him his face dropped.

"I'll leave you to it," Heather said.

"Thank you." Grissom nodded.

Nodding back her eyes flicked to Warrick for a moment before she walked to several customers seated nearby and began chatting.

"Grissom, what are you doing here?" Warrick asked, shocked.

Folding his arms firmly across his chest, the rancher stepped right up to his new hire. "I could ask you the same thing."

"How did you even know I was here?" The younger man scratched his head, then he realized. "You followed me?"

Grissom nodded.

"What gives you the right to do that?" Warrick snapped.

"You gave me the right, Warrick," Grissom tried to keep his cool, "when I put my neck on the line for you. And how do you repay me? By coming back to the damn game?"

"It's not what you think," the blacksmith responded quickly.

"Then what is it?" The older man felt his resolve slipping and took a deep breath. "You sneak out in the middle of the night and I find you at the one game that cost you all your money in the first place. What the hell am I supposed to think?"

"I'm not gambling."

Grissom frowned. "What?"

Sighing Warrick slipped his hands into his pockets. "I'm not gambling."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"I'm working."

"What do you mean you're working?" Grissom was confused.

Shaking his head Warrick turned and leaned against the bar. "I mean I'm working. It's an extra chore for Sam, takes a little extra off the debt. I think it's his little way of embarrassing me for screwing him over. I watch the door, bring drinks, sort out female entertainment, if required. You know how these things are." The blacksmith rubbed his hand over his chin before looking his employer in the eye. "He knows it's hard for me to watch all that cash change hands and I can't get in on the action."

"Oh, I…"

"Look, Grissom, I made you a promise and I intend to keep it. You have to trust me. I made one stupid mistake and I don't intend to make it again."

"Alright, I'm sorry, Warrick, I…"

"Grissom," the younger man cut in, "you don't need to apologize. I guess if I were you I would have done the same thing. Just trust me, alright?"

Nodding sincerely, Grissom leaned next to his worker. "You better get back, don't want Sam docking your pay do we?" The older man now smiled.

Warrick smiled back. "Yeah, I better had. I'll see you tomorrow."

"You will," Grissom countered.

With that, Warrick left Grissom's side to return to his duties.

The moment the blacksmith had disappeared, Heather stood from her table and approached her friend.

"Everything alright?" She asked.

Grissom looked at her. "Yes, all is well and thank you for allowing me to speak with him."

"Good," she smiled truly, "and I will always do a favor for you, you know that, don't you?"

Smiling back, Grissom nodded. "I appreciate that."

"You always did."

The two just looked at each other for a moment before Grissom cleared his throat and spoke.

"I must get home."

Heather nodded.

"Once again, thank you for your assistance and I am sure I will see you again." He took Heather's hand and kissed the back lightly.

As he walked away, Heather followed.

"This way, Grissom," she said, "I'll let you out the back."

Grissom took one last look around the saloon and he became aware that the men who had been staring at him earlier had now gone. His eyes narrowed but he didn't think any more of it. He followed Heather down a dark, deserted corridor to the back door and she unbolted it for him.

"Goodnight, Heather." He smiled and slipped out the door.

He sighed heavily as he heard the door being bolted behind him. The night air was cool and refreshing and he inhaled deeply. Now, he felt tired. Walking down the back steps and into the yard, the rancher grabbed his horse and pulled him towards the gateway. The night had been longer than expected and it was certainly time to return home now.

As he walked into the alley way he stopped dead in his tracks when two men stood only a few feet away to his left. He knew immediately they were not here to chat. Their faces were obscured by a scarf and their hats allowed the rancher to only see their eyes.

Swallowing hard, Grissom quickly looked to his right upon hearing a cough and observed two more men now blocking his retreat back onto the main street. They headed towards him and Grissom's eyes widened when he spotted wooden clubs in their hands. The two other men also advanced.

Grissom released Dante's reins and pushed him back into the yard.

He knew he was in trouble and his heart rate suddenly increased.

"Look…gentleman…" He stuttered, "I didn't come here to cause any trouble." He then said quickly, looking from left to right, hoping there had been some sort of mistake.

"Well, you found some," one of the men growled.

Grissom knew his only option was to try and get back inside the saloon and without another seconds thought he bolted backwards through the gateway and back into the yard.

"Get him!" Was the only thing he heard as he raced through the yard and up the steps to the door.

It was locked.

He pulled his arm back to bang on it and was about to holler for help when several rough pairs of hands grabbed him from behind.

"Where do you think you're going, huh?" A voice barked and he struggled as he was hauled back down the steps.

"Help!" Grissom managed to shout as he was dragged into the yard.

"Shut him up," one of his attackers snarled but before he could figure out which one a heavy fist connected with his face and he fell to the ground with a groan.

Shaking his head rapidly, Grissom attempted to gather his bearings and pull himself to his feet but as a boot crashed into his ribs he fell back onto his face. He must have been kicked half a dozen times about the torso and face before the beating stopped but he struggled to keep count.

Several long seconds passed and Grissom could do nothing but breath in the dust beneath him as pain surged through his body.

"Pick him up," the same voice as before finally said. Grissom had gathered he was the ring leader.

Within an instant, he was dragged to his feet and held strongly by two of the men. He physically couldn't struggle now and he knew if the two guys weren't holding him up he would fall back down again.

The leader stepped forward and through heavy breaths, Grissom locked eyes with him.

"What the hell do you want?" The rancher wheezed, trying to catch his breath.

The man smiled and held out a hand to his partner by his side. He handed him one of the clubs.

With eyes widening Grissom struggled as much as his hurting body would allow but again, he was held firmly.

"Now…" The lead man pushed the club sharply under Grissom's chin, forcing his head up, "what do I want? Why don't you tell me, huh? You seem to be the one poking your nose into everyone's business; don't you know what I want?"

Grissom tried to shake his head but with the club almost cutting off his airway he couldn't. "No," he managed to whisper.

"I have a message for you, Grissom," he spat into his captives face. "Leave town and leave very, very quickly or next time we get our hands on you, the only place you will be ending up is in a wooden box." He pushed the club harder and Grissom closed his eyes as a sharp pain ran up his throat. "Do you understand?"

The man removed the club and stepped back, awaiting a response. "I said, do you understand?" He snapped.

Frowning, Grissom attempted to gather his thoughts. Who the hell was this message from and why him? What kind of threat was he to anyone? One thing he did know was that ever since the day his father died no one forced him to do anything. He was his own man and would make his own decisions.

"Go to hell," he spat.

The man smirked broadly. "Let him go boys," he commanded.

The two men holding Grissom released their grip from him and stepped back. The second he was free he winced and crumpled to his knees clutching his stomach. They had done a good job on his lower body as well as his face and he was sure a black eye would be greeting him in the morning.

He heard the men behind him walking away and thought it was over until he looked up.

He had no time to react as his tormentor had already raised the club over his head and brought it down in one swift motion. It connected with Grissom's skull with a harsh crunch and he fell forward with a thud, cracking his face on the ground again.

The rancher blinked hard but couldn't move as the pain surged through his head and a trickle of warm blood oozed down his face. He was still conscious but his vision was blurred. Suddenly, he felt his head being yanked by the hair and could just about make out the leader as he stared him dead in eye.

"Heed the warning, Grissom. There will be no more." The man spat in his face before releasing his grip causing his head to fall back to the ground.

Grissom watched through his impaired vision as the four men dispersed but then a fifth man appeared and began chatting to the leader. He tried to shake off his disorientation to identify the man but he couldn't. He looked familiar but he just couldn't make out his face. Then they disappeared.

Once the men were out of sight the rancher groaned heavily as he attempted to push himself up. The first time he failed and fell back on his face. Then he felt something at his feet and looked around. Dante sniffed at his heels before pushing his nose against his master legs, obviously urging him to get up.

"I know…" Grissom wheezed. "We have to go, in case they come back. I'm trying, alright?"

Dante shook his mane before neighing loudly.

The horse carefully trotted around his owner and stopped by his head. Dropping his head forward, Dante managed to dangle his reins in front of Grissom.

Reaching up, he grabbed onto them and Dante lifted his head, stepping backwards as he did so and within a few seconds he had pulled his master to his feet.

Once the rancher was on his feet he struggled to stay on them, swaying a little. "Thanks boy." He managed to mumble before forcing himself aboard his horse. It took several attempts to pull himself up, but finally he managed it and slumped heavily forwards against his friend.

"Take me home, boy," he whispered.

Knowing his faithful horse would get him back to the ranch without being guided, Grissom closed his eyes as they moved, concentrating on staying in the saddle. He tried to fight it but his heavy lids were battling him all the way, so he gave in and they fell shut. He just prayed his attackers would not try again as he attempted to get home.

CSICSICSICSICSICSICSI

Sara sat on the porch steps to the cabin. She had been there for almost two hours after yet again coming to collect on her nightly walk. She was confused when she found Grissom wasn't there but decided to wait.

Now she was getting frustrated. Where the hell was he? She stood and peered through the cabin window again, no, he certainly wasn't inside and she saw the rifle on the mantel so surely he wouldn't have left the estate.

She decided it was time to go and look for him but as she finished the thought she heard the sound of a horse approaching.

Casually hopping down the cabin steps, she caught sight of Dante as he slowly trotted towards her. She smiled, knowing finally, Grissom was here but then her smile faded when she saw him slumped forwards.

She ran to Dante and grabbed his reins, pulling him to a stop.

With caution she cupped Grissom's face in her hands and lifted his head. "Oh my god," she cried. "Grissom? Grissom can you hear me?"

He groaned as his eyes flicked open. "Sara…." He tried to sit up and suddenly slipped from the saddle.

She tried her best to catch him as he fell and they both ended up on the ground. Recovering quickly, Sara was on her knees in a shot and gently turned him onto his back.

"Jesus, Grissom." She eyed his face. Blood was dripping from the cut just above his hair line, a large bruise was forming over his right eye and a split lip glistened in the night light. "What the hell happened to you?"

Blinking hard Grissom attempted to think straight. Boy did he have a headache. "Doesn't matter," he slurred.

Shaking her head in disbelief Sara pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and held it over the cut on his head. "What do you mean it doesn't matter? Of course it matters."

Grissom shook his head and closed his eyes.

"I'm going to get Father," Sara said quickly and went to stand. She only got about half way before a hand shot to her arm and held firmly, pulling her back down.

"Please," he begged, "do not tell the captain. He has enough to worry about right now."

"Grissom, you need aid, let me get help or at least let me help you."

He shook his head again. "I'll be fine, just leave me be."

"No, you won't, damn it, Grissom. You are such a stubborn ass, you know that?"

His eyes opened and locked with hers. "Please…."

With a heavy sigh Sara checked the cut on his head again. "I will give you a choice. Either you let me tend to you or I fetch Father."

Grissom managed to frown.

"What's it going to be, Grissom?"

A/N: Thank you to everyone for all your reviews. Each and every one of them is highly appreciated. It feels great to know I have such an amazing following on this story and the reason I put my heart and soul into it is for you guys :)

I hope Grissom getting his butt whooped didn't upset you too much; although the tip of the iceberg has now been broken off shall we say…….

Hit the button; let me know what you think.

M