The forest was dense and unruly as Troy and Dietrich made their way southwest. Dietrich was in charge of clearing their path, leaving Troy feeling useless as his hands remained cuffed. He paused to pick a blueberry bush clean—including unripe berries—and after shoveling one handful in his mouth, Troy held out another handful to Dietrich. "Want some?"

Dietrich took a couple of ripe blueberries, then kept moving. "The rest are yours. Also, how many berries have you eaten since we left the cave?"

"I don't know. They're small, not very filling, and I'm starving."

"Well, this is your homeland, not mine. I do hope you know what berries are safe to eat and what will make you throw up into next week."

"Yes, Dietrich, I know what I'm doing."

"If you say so."

That handful of berries kept Troy somewhat sated for a little while, allowing his mind to turn back to what they were going to do about McCaskey and Mereworth. It would be ridiculous to just let them go, and it wasn't the right thing to do. I've known Sheriff Ayers since I moved to Douglas after the war. I can trust him to help us. Part of Troy wondered if the real reason he was so hesitant was because he just wanted to put this behind him. This never would've happened if I wasn't stupid enough to think going after the gold was a good idea. Then again, if other people get hurt because I let these two maniacs go, it's on me. "Dietrich?"

"What?" Dietrich asked.

"We're going into town when we get back to the truck. I'm going to tell the sheriff what happened."

"Alright."

"And he can get me out of these things. That'll be fun to explain."

"This whole adventure will be fun to explain," Dietrich said. "I would not be surprised if the sheriff does not believe us."

"I've known Ayers for well over ten years. He's met Anah. I'm sure he'll believe us."

"Honestly, if he has met Anah, then, yes, he probably will believe us." Dietrich smirked. "Was this from when she was staying with you during Moffitt's honeymoon?"

"Yep. He found her driving my truck in town."

"The fact that Anah can drive still scares me sometimes."

"It scares me, too."

"Who taught her to drive?"

"Tully."

"That explains a lot. I will never forget the day a seemingly driverless jeep barreled through my camp to rescue you and Hitch. As it turned out, it was not driverless—it was being telekinetically driven by an Egyptian cobra wrapped around the wheel."

Troy grinned. "Yep, and we were damn proud of her."

"But you went back to arguing with her afterward, right?"

"I did."

"Just like a true brother and sister."

Troy was quiet for a moment. "She's the closest I'll ever get to a real sister. I know she's a snake, but she acts more like family than my blood family. Apart from David."

"I am glad that at least your brother is on good terms with you."

"He witnessed everything, and he told me he has no reason to believe anything my mother says."

"Why exactly is he still in contact with the rest of your family?"

"I'm not sure. I have no arguments with it. They treat him better than they treated me. I do wonder if he's afraid. Never asked, though."

"I forget, have you mentioned to me if he is married?"

"He's married, and has two kids."

"Have you met them?"

"No. I… wasn't even invited to the wedding."

Dietrich hung back a little to walk alongside Troy and put his hand on his shoulder. "Why?"

"Well, it was mutual. David knew things wouldn't go well if I was there along with my mother and other relatives. I said that was fine. I don't want to be around them anyway. It was his wedding. He could invite whoever he wanted."

"Still. That must have hurt."

"Nah. It was alright."

"When was this, if I may ask?"

"1946. I was focused on my ranch anyway."

"That was when you were mostly alone when you were not visiting Moffitt, Hitch, or Tully."

Troy didn't respond at first. The façade of everything being alright never worked with Dietrich. Troy let out a heavy sigh before saying, "Okay, maybe it hurt a little, but… a lot of people there said they were glad I wasn't there."

"They were really that angry with you over leaving?"

"To them, I'm selfish. I only wanted things for me and no one else."

"That is not true. I told you when I first visited your ranch: you are incredibly generous for someone who was surrounded by people who didn't care about you or your dream of owning a ranch." Dietrich was quiet for a moment. "That reminds me… if you do not mind me asking… have you ever found out what happened to the horse that killed your father?"

"Rainflower? No. I asked David not long after you went home that summer, and he said it's a mystery to him, too. Whatever happened, we'll never find out."

"But you still strongly suspect your mother put that horse down?"

"I do, but it's not… it's not worth being angry about anymore."

"It is still a shame that happened."

"Yeah. Whichever was the case. It shouldn't have happened. I'm not going to let anything like that happen to my horses. Ever." Troy glanced up at Dietrich. He knew asking the skinny German about his family was equally touchy. "I take it you still don't know what happened to your blood relatives?"

"No, and I am still not sure I want to," Dietrich replied.

"Can't blame you."

"I will not say that there is no hope. If they are alive and want to make amends, I will be open to listening. If they still think I am the problem, then I can only hope they will leave me alone."

"They better, or they're going to be dealing with me."

"My parents would be quite old by this point. My brothers, if they are alive, are another story. My oldest brother, Konrad, unsurprisingly, joined the Waffen-SS. My next oldest, Markus, was Heer like me, but he enlisted."

"Must've been a big surprise that you became an officer."

"It was, but I sometimes wonder if I reached too high in order to avoid being seen as disloyal. I was still looked at funny."

"I know my relatives looked at me funny when I didn't want to talk about what I did during the war. The one time I saw everyone, shortly after I went home. It was… weird. I didn't really talk to anyone. They all asked questions that I just didn't want to answer."

"I have been asked questions about my service during the war. You would think it would be easier considering that many of the officers I serve with now had also seen some action beforehand." Dietrich shook his head. "In truth, it is harder. My reputation got around. I have gotten many questions about my handling of you. 'Why could you not destroy the Rat Patrol?' Every time, I shrug, and say that you got lucky."

"Conveniently leaving out that there were many times where you just let us go."

"Yes."

"Do you tell them that you're friends with us now?"

"Oh, yes." Dietrich grinned. "Some respond with shock, others think it is silly. Some, like my seniormost commander, think it is admirable that we were able to set our differences aside and become friends."

"I take it you don't say anything about your depression?"

"Not a word. That remains between you, me, Shauna, Moffitt, Anah, Hitch, and Tully."

"Can't blame you there." Troy went to wipe sweat from his face, and cursed upon seeing the handcuffs. "I'm looking forward to getting out of these. We're in a forest. There's gotta be a stick or something we can use to pick the lock."

"A stick would be far too fragile. Do you have any estimate on how far we are from the truck?"

"No." Troy paused, looking up at a massive maple tree next to him. "Maybe I can climb up and get a better view of where we are."

"In handcuffs? No. I will do it. Stay there." Dietrich walked around the tree for a moment, then jumped up to grab a branch, pulling himself up and nimbly scaling higher from branch to branch.

Troy watched until Dietrich's boots disappeared into the dense shroud of green leaves above. He then looked down at the handcuffs, still trying to piece together how exactly they ended up in this mess. Guilt had settled heavily in his chest. At least it was just me and Dietrich getting in trouble. If Moffitt or Hitch or Tully had been with me… I'd never forgive myself. A tiny smirk tugged at the edges of Troy's mouth. Moffitt would have had better luck. Finding treasure like this was basically his job, and he had a highly venomous talking snake as a companion. So what you're telling yourself, Sam, is that you should've called Moffitt. He could've done this with his eyes closed.

He looked up again when he heard Dietrich's periodic grunting as he climbed down from the tree. Dietrich dropped down from the lowest branch, breathing hard. He took a moment to catch his breath, then said, "We are only about two, maybe three miles away from where we parked, but I could see another vehicle parked nearby. I think it is safe to assume that is McCaskey's truck with ours."

"He may've sabotaged mine," Troy said.

"That is a possibility, and we are a long way from the ranch. A very long way."

"Yeah. Walking forty miles isn't my idea of fun."

"We are not that far from a highway, though. We may be able to hitchhike."

Troy held up his handcuffs. "Anyone who picks us up is going to think we're lunatics."

"They would probably think we are lunatics anyway after spending five minutes with you without handcuffs."

"Dietrich, that was mean. Say you're sorry."

"No. Anyway, we will be honest, and worst case scenario, we just follow the highway until we reach a town."

"The nearest town is Douglas, which, as I've already said, is forty miles away."

"So we find a gas station. Surely, a gas station has a phone we can use, and I know we passed a few on our way here."

"I know we did, but let's pray that McCaskey didn't touch my truck. If he touched my truck, I'm not gonna be happy."

"You are already not happy, Troy."

"Give me one reason why I should be happy right now."

"You are alive. You are not alone. You are with me, and it is not raining."

Troy sighed. "You're right. Thanks, Dietrich." Their walk was quiet for another few minutes, then Troy said, "I think there's a good chance we're not going to be home by tonight. I said I didn't want Shauna to worry, and now she's going to be worried."

"Relax, Troy. We will find a way home," Dietrich said. "We do not even know what condition your truck is in. We will remain hopeful until the situation says otherwise, and even then, we will have hope that everything will be alright." He turned to grin at Troy. "Do you trust me?"

"Yeah. I'd be crazy not to."

"You are crazy, full-stop."

Troy rolled his eyes and shook his head. "At least my cigarettes are in the truck."

"I left mine at your house."

"You can have one of mine."

"Thank you. I would appreciate that."

Troy let the conversation die. He imagined the situation would have been slightly better if he hadn't been handcuffed. At least then he would feel useful.

The woods began to thin out a little as they came to a gently sloping hill, near where the truck was parked. Troy wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but he knew he couldn't until he was certain his truck still worked.

Dietrich motioned for him to crouch down and stay quiet. Before Troy could ask why, Dietrich mouthed, "McCaskey."

Troy got next to Dietrich, and watched McCaskey and Mereworth load burlap sacks of gold bars into their vehicle. He suspected that was the last of the gold, as the two men got into the truck after securing the bags, and drove off. Once the vehicle was out of sight, Troy sighed. "That's it, then. They have the gold. That'd be more than enough to cover bail."

"If the gold is not confiscated," Dietrich said.

The two left their hiding place, feeling safer now that McCaskey and Mereworth were far away. Troy broke into a run when they got closer to his truck, but everything came to a crashing halt when he noticed the very obvious gashes in all four tires. Rage and frustration rapidly boiled inside, and Troy kicked one of the tires before breaking into a string of indescribably foul Greek curses.

Dietrich stood nearby, his arms folded over his chest. He said nothing until Troy stopped. By that point, Troy had leaned against the hood of the truck, drained of energy. He gave one last kick to the front passenger side tire.

"Feel better?" Dietrich asked.

"Not really," Troy said. "Looks like we're walking, buddy."

"Indeed." Dietrich opened the truck, and took a lighter and a pack of cigarettes out of the glove compartment. He then went around to hand them to Troy. "Here. Take a moment to rest."

"Thanks." Troy sat in the shade cast by his truck after taking a cigarette out of the carton. He felt somewhat more relaxed after his first draw, then exhaled smoke along with a sigh. "Well, this has been… a day."

"It certainly has been," Dietrich replied, sitting next to Troy. "It is nice to finally be out of that damn cave, though."

"There's that." Troy looked up at the clear sky. "You're right. At least it's not raining. We're still wearing wet clothes, though."

"I am nearly dry."

"Good for you." Troy tried to savor his cigarette for the first few draws, but the desire to go home was stronger. He finished his quickly, while Dietrich was still working through his. "Come on, hurry up so we can go."

"Patience, Troy." Dietrich took his cigarette out of his mouth.

"Patience? No. No, no, no, I am not going to be patient today!"

"When have you ever been patient?"

Troy bit his tongue, then let out a frustrated growl. "You know what? I've had enough. I'm done with this. You can sit there and waste time and make fun of me all you want, but I'm going home." He stood, marching down the hill toward the road that would take him to the highway. Disappointment and misery hung on him about as heavily as his clothes when he emerged from the water in the cave. He was sick of being miserable. Nothing had gone the way he hoped or expected, and it seemed that no matter what he did, nothing worked. Everything failed. Almost everything. He managed to get himself and Dietrich out of McCaskey's grasp. There was that. Troy had just gotten to the road when he heard someone walking up behind him, and turned to see Dietrich.

"I doubt you are going to get very far like that," Dietrich said, gesturing to the handcuffs. "Plus, you are letting your frustration of this entire situation rule your head."

"I know, and I'm sorry for snapping at you."

"Apology accepted." Dietrich patted Troy's shoulder. "We will get home, one way or another."

It had been a bit of a surprise for Dietrich when Troy got up and walked off, but he couldn't really blame Troy. That whole day had been a disaster in one way or another. Then again, it wasn't a disaster compared to the days in North Africa when Dietrich had the misfortune of running into the Rats. Those were truly disasters. This incident with McCaskey and Mereworth hadn't exactly been pleasant, but Dietrich wasn't facing any consequences for them getting away.

Their shadows were gradually getting longer. Troy had started muttering about how worried Shauna probably was, but he would stop every time they heard a vehicle approaching, and start trying to flag it down. That highway had to be one of the loneliest in the world. So far, they had only seen two cars, and neither stopped.

Troy's shoulders slumped when the third car didn't stop. In fact, it looked to have sped up when passing by them. He turned to Dietrich. "It's the handcuffs, isn't it?"

"Probably," Dietrich replied.

"There's got to be a way to get these off. They're driving me nuts." Troy kept walking. "There's got to be something we can use."

"All I see are rocks and grass, neither of which will work."

"I think that's obvious, unless you can find a really skinny rock. Or the world's toughest blade of grass."

They went another mile without talking, or seeing signs of civilization. Not a single car passed by them. The landscape around them was flat, save for mountains in the distance. The sun-bleached skull of a deer lay in the grass by the pavement. The rest of the skeleton was nowhere to be found, and the meat had long been picked away by eager scavengers.

"I could really go for some venison right now," Troy said, walking around the skull. "Actually, anything sounds good right now." He looked over at Dietrich. "How about you? How are you feeling?"

"Perfectly fine, Troy," Dietrich replied.

"You know, Anah once told me that 'fine' is a weird word—"

"And yet you have said 'fine' to me and many others on countless occasions, so I would advise you to not lecture me on being honest about what is on my mind."

Much to Dietrich's surprise, Troy didn't press further. They both kept walking, and kept watching their shadows grow longer as the sun steadily sank lower into the western horizon. Around six o'clock, a dull ache had wrapped around Dietrich's head. He resisted a pained groan when reaching up in a vain attempt to massage it out.

"Maybe not eating is a good thing," Troy said. "Maybe I'll be able to squeeze my hands out of these damn cuffs."

"We will reach the ranch long before you start losing any fat or muscle mass sufficient enough to pull your hands out of the cuffs. It will probably take us a little under a day of continuous walking to return home. You may lose a little fat, but nothing truly noticeable. Trust me. I know."

Troy didn't say anything at first. He then paused and let Dietrich catch up to walk alongside him. "Sorry."

"For what?" Dietrich asked.

"For… bringing up bad memories for you."

"You have no need to apologize. I have long gotten over that."

Troy stopped walking abruptly. "Hey, look!"

"What?"

"See that?" Troy pointed ahead of them.

Dietrich looked in the direction Troy was pointing. He could see the lights of a gas station not too far ahead. "Thank goodness," Dietrich said.

Troy took off running, and Dietrich followed, calling, "Wait! Troy, you will trip with those cuffs on! Slow down!"

By some miracle, Troy hadn't tripped and fallen on his face when he reached the gas station. Dietrich skidded to a halt next to him, unable to blame Troy for being overjoyed at the sight of civilization. His joy was far more restrained, even with the display of candy bars in the window.

There were no vehicles at the gas station at the moment, aside from the two belonging to the clerk and attendant. The attendant was a young blond man, probably fresh out of high school. His reaction to seeing Troy in handcuffs was about what Dietrich expected—very confused. He started backing toward the door, calling for the clerk to come see this. The clerk, a slightly older man with darker hair, came outside to see the commotion, holding a shotgun.

Dietrich kept his hands visible. "Before this gets out of hand, no, Troy is not an escaped convict."

The clerk kept a firm grip on his shotgun. "I've seen some strange things come through here, but this is a first."

"You want me to call the cops, Fred?" the attendant asked.

"Yes! Call the cops!" Troy said. "That's exactly what we want. Okay, listen, I—"

"Troy, may I do the talking for once?" Dietrich asked.

"Actually, I'm going to do the talking." Fred lowered his shotgun a little. "Who are you? Skinny fella, you go first."

"I am Hans Dietrich. I am a major in the West German military—"

"Prove it." Fred looked at the attendant. "Nate, you're taking German, aren't you?"

"Yeah," the attendant replied. He hesitated a moment, trying to remember his lessons. "Uh… Sprechen Sie—"

Dietrich sighed and pulled out his wallet to show them his identification. "You two questioning us is just going to cost us a lot of time. We are both tired and in need of assistance. Are either of you aware of the gold bars discovered in a cave north of here?"

"I saw that in the paper yesterday morning," Fred replied.

"We went searching for it this morning. Two men, Sidney McCaskey and Elias Mereworth, came into the cave and demanded we leave. We argued, and were held against our wills. They threatened us and had Troy bound in handcuffs while forcing me to search for the gold. We escaped and now we are here, on foot because the tires on our vehicle were slashed. There is more to the story, but that is the best I can do to simplify it."

"You said Elias Mereworth?" Nate asked.

"I did."

"His little sister's in my class. Met him a few times. Nice guy under the right circumstances, but Sid McCaskey's a bad influence." Nate glanced at Fred. "I believe these guys. What do you think?"

Fred was quiet while thinking, then stepped toward the doors. "Alright. We'll call the sheriff's office. Come on in, make yourselves comfortable."

Dietrich tried to keep things amicable by leaving money on the counter after going around and taking a handful of candy bars. He listened to Fred talk to the sheriff on the telephone, and sat next to Troy, who stared hungrily at the candy while Dietrich unwrapped a bar. That prompted Dietrich to sigh. "For heaven's sake, Troy, take one. I did not get these all for me."

"With how you are when it comes to sweets, I couldn't tell," Troy said. He grabbed the closest candy bar and tore into it.

"I am very well-behaved when it comes to sweets."

"Are you? You admitted to eating a whole pie in the span of two days."

"Maybe I was making that up."

"Sure." Troy didn't sound like he believed Dietrich. "It doesn't take you long to go through a whole tray of cinnamon rolls when you visit."

"I am fully capable of controlling myself. Shut up and eat your chocolate."

Fred walked over to them from behind the counter. "I'd like to apologize, you two. Sheriff Ayers says he knows you. He'll be here in about twenty minutes to talk to you and get you home."

"Thank you. You have no idea how much we appreciate that," Troy said with his mouth full.

"Manners, Troy," Dietrich muttered.

"I just said 'thank you!'"

"And you are talking with your mouth full. You could have waited."

He wasn't at all surprised that Troy ignored him.

It was a great relief to see Sheriff Ayers when his vehicle pulled into the gas station. He had been one of the first people to welcome Troy to Douglas when he moved into the little town after the war ended, and it didn't take long for him to eventually meet the other Rats, Anah, and Dietrich. The older, uniformed man stepped out of his car and entered the gas station. Despite knowing Troy, he was still surprised to see the handcuffs, but unlike everyone else they encountered that day, Ayers's expression was laced with concern.

"Well, this is certainly a new one," Ayers said.

Troy smiled. "Hi, Sheriff." He held out his shackled hands. "Would you mind—"

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry." Ayers took a keyring off his belt to unlock the cuffs. "Wonder where McCaskey got these."

"Thank you, sir." Troy's wrists were red from the cuffs constantly rubbing them. They ached badly, and Troy knew from his experience with Beckmann that it would take time for the pain to truly go away, though McCaskey hadn't put the cuffs on nearly as tightly as the guards in Beckmann's camp. "Boy, are we glad to see you."

"I can imagine. I knew that damn gold was going to cause trouble when I read about it. Other than your wrists, are you alright?"

"Exhausted, but otherwise alright," Troy said.

"What about you, Dietrich?"

"Some bruises from where I was kicked by McCaskey. Tired, but also alright," Dietrich replied.

"My truck is still by the cave," Troy explained. "All four tires are slashed."

"Did you get a good look at McCaskey's vehicle?"

"Yeah. I don't remember the plate number, though."

"I do," Dietrich said.

"Good," Ayers replied. "I'll write that down, then take you back to Douglas." He shook his head while writing down everything Troy and Dietrich told him. "Does Shauna know you're out here, Sam?"

"Yeah—well, she doesn't know about this specifically, but she knew Dietrich and I were going to look for the gold," Troy said. "She's probably worried by now."

"That's why I'm getting you home." Ayers lifted his notepad. "Anything else?"

"No, sir. We told you everything to the best of our recollection."

"Alright. Let's get you home."

Dietrich looked around with curiosity when he climbed in the back of Ayers's car. "I never thought I would see the day that I rode in the back of a police vehicle."

"We know. You're very well-behaved," Troy said.

Dietrich grinned. "That tone suggests you have gotten in trouble with the law before."

"All I've ever done was get a speeding ticket."

"Why do I get the feeling you have done more than that?"

"Because you want to make fun of me."

Dietrich looked hesitant to respond. "Right. Maybe I do, but I am genuinely curious."

"Genuinely curious because you want to make fun of me."

"Am I better or worse than Anah when it comes to making fun of you?"

"You guys are about the same, but your delivery of insults and jokes is different. And Anah's more of a prankster."

Dietrich smirked. "You have already forgotten what I said earlier."

"What did you say earlier?"

"Well, number one, you have just proved my point—"

"What point?"

"And number two, I said that I am the one no one would suspect when it comes to practical jokes. You asked why I would say that to you. I said, 'Because you will forget that I said this later on.'"

Troy frowned. "Let me guess, you're going to—"

"Assume you are going to forget this within an hour? Yes."

"I'm not going to forget this time."

"Yes, you will."

"No, I won't."

"Would you like to bet? If you forget by tomorrow night, you have to pay for drinks at the bar. If you remember, I will pay."

"I thought you were already going to pay."

"I changed my mind."

The sun had nearly disappeared below the horizon when Ayers pulled into the driveway of Troy's home. Troy massaged his wrists as he got out of the car, and waited for Dietrich before starting to head for the house. He waved to Ayers as the sheriff began pulling out of the driveway, then looked at Dietrich. "What do you think? Think Shauna's going to be worried?"

"Like I said earlier, Troy, she is your wife. She will worry. I am a little surprised you forgot that, too."

"Well, today's been a hectic day." Troy walked up to the porch and unlocked the door. He entered the house to find Shauna in the living room with a newspaper in her lap. "Hi, sweetheart. We're home."

Shauna closed the newspaper before standing and grabbing her husband in a hug. "Sam, thank goodness you're alright. I was starting to get worried."

"I had a feeling you were." Troy gave Shauna a kiss on her lips. "We're alright."

"You and Hans are quite filthy, though. What happened to your wrists?"

"Uh… long story. Very long story."

A look of concern crossed Shauna's face. "Both of you get cleaned up, and then tell me what happened."

Dietrich went upstairs to take a hot shower first. Troy watched Shauna prepare cups of hot chocolate for them in the kitchen, as well as a couple of cinnamon rolls for Dietrich. "So, I take it your day was uneventful, sweetheart?"

"Pretty much," Shauna replied. "Spent most of my chores praying that you and Hans would be alright."

"I appreciate it."

"Did you find the gold?"

"Yes and no. We'll explain everything once we're clean and dry."

Dietrich left the bathroom about ten minutes later. When he came downstairs, he didn't hesitate to take the plate of cinnamon rolls and ravenously bite into one.

"You are allowed to sit, Hans," Shauna said.

"I know," Dietrich said with his mouth full.

Troy gave Dietrich a disappointed look. "Hey, you were just getting mad at me over talking with food in my mouth at the gas station."

"Oh, Sam, he's clearly hungry. Leave him alone." Shauna pulled out a chair for Dietrich. "Here, sit down, you poor thing."

Troy sighed. "Sweetheart—"

"Go get your shower, Sam."

"Alright, alright." Troy headed upstairs to get a change of clothes from his and Shauna's bedroom. The redness around his wrists was slowly beginning to fade, but they were still sore and would be for a while. He had faith in Ayers to keep McCaskey and Mereworth locked away once they were caught, but he hoped that they would actually be able to be found. He hadn't seen the direction that their truck went. Wyoming was a large state with hundreds of square miles of remote wilderness. They could hide if they wanted to. Part of him wondered if joining in the search to find them would be a good idea, but he had a feeling Dietrich didn't want to, and Shauna would be strongly opposed once she learned what happened. Give them time, then suggest it, Troy thought as he undressed in the bathroom. Regardless, he wasn't going to do nothing if he could help it.