"Pa, why are we riding into town today instead of finishing the planting?" The tall man looked down at his son as they rode side by side and answered patiently,

"Well Mark, the marshall told me that someone's come into town that I should meet. He seemed to think I should get there as fast as possible." Mark nodded thoughtfully.

"Do you think it's someone dangerous, Pa?"

"I'm sure it's not, Mark, so don't worry." The tall man smiled at his son, and Mark smiled back.

When they reached the town, Micah Torrence was outside his office waiting for them. "Hello Lucas, Mark," he greeted them. "Lucas, I've got someone in here who's asking for you. Seems he thinks you know someone he's lookin' for."

"Did he give his name?" asked Lucas.

"Why don't you come on in and ask him yourself," responded the marshall. As Lucas stepped into the office with Mark, he found a serious man dressed in black waiting for him.

"Lucas McCain?" he asked with an outstretched hand. Lucas shook his hand with an affirmative nod. "My name is Paladin. If I'm not mistaken, you hired a man called Jesse Jones to help you on your farm a few months ago?"

"I did," answered Lucas, while Mark also nodded. "He helped us plant some corn when I couldn't find anyone else to help us. He didn't even take the pay I offered him!" Shaking his head, Paladin said with a sigh,

"Yeah, I figured as much. Everyone I've talked to seems to remember him as a pleasant fellow who was willing to help with whatever they needed." Paladin shook his head again. "It just doesn't add up…"

"What doesn't add up?" piped up Mark. "Is he in trouble, Sir?"

"I'm afraid he is," answered the man in black. "I've been hired to find him. He's wanted for murder."

"Murder?" echoed Lucas in disbelief. "The man who helped us would never murder anyone!"

"Yeah," added Mark. "You must have the wrong man." Paladin shook his head sympathetically and reached into his shirt pocket, pulling out a piece of paper.

"His name is Jesse Jones, is it not?" He unfolded the paper and handed it to Lucas. "Did he look like this?" Lucas studied the wanted paper and the face that stared up at him. His eyes were arrested by the exorbitant sum of $5,000 that was printed below his name, and the glaring words spelling out 'MURDER.' Lucas found himself nodding in disbelief, saying,

"Yes, that's him." As he handed the poster back to Paladin, he muttered to himself, "How could he do something like this?"

"That's what I'm going to find out," answered Paladin as he put on his hat. "If you'd like to come with me, you're welcome to." Lucas followed suit, donning his own hat.

"Mark and I will take you up on that offer." The three exited the office and mounted their horses, riding out of town in pursuit of Jesse Jones.

The Maverick brothers had some catching up to do, as it had been several months since they'd last seen each other. After bragging about the money they'd won in various schemes, the women they'd wooed and won, and the feats of daring that they had never done in their lives, they wished each other a good night and went up to their separate rooms.

In the darkness Bret fumbled in front of his room with the key, cursing himself and all the whiskey he'd been drinking at the saloon. He struggled to steady his hand enough to fit the key into the lock. Just as he found success in his effort, a conspicuous click sounded out of the silent darkness.

"Just stay exactly how you are, Mister," came a threatening voice. Bret froze and raised his hands, saying with forced good humor,

"Well, now, isn't this friendly." He felt a pair of hands searching his coat, but they stopped when nothing was found. Something like a low growl came from his invisible assailant, and the same threatening voice said,

"You stole too much money from me at the table tonight. I came up short and now I can't pay some debts that I need to." He stuffed the barrel of his pistol into Bret's side and hissed, "If you don't come up with $5,000 in the next 24 hours, you won't be alive to enjoy the following day. I'll be around, and if you think you can shake me off, you're mistaken." Just as suddenly as he had appeared, he disappeared. Bret turned quickly and tried to catch a glimpse of the man, but the darkness was too complete and the man was already gone.

Bart, having heard the commotion, emerged from his room looking rather unkempt, tie askew and shirt halfway unbuttoned.

"I thought I heard something. What happened?" Bret just shook his head with a grimace and replied,

"An unhappy customer is convinced I stole $5,000 from him and he wants it back in the next 24 hours." He shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "If I don't come up with it I'm a dead man, but I don't know where to rustle up that much money in one day." Both men sat in a contemplative silence until Bart broke it with a gasp.

"Hey, you know what, I know where you can get that money!"

"Where?" asked Bret, sounding unconvinced.

"When I stopped in the sheriff's office at the last town, I heard a man asking about someone named Jesse Jones, a wanted man worth $5,000. They said something about his being in Reno." Bret suddenly perked up.

"Reno?"

"Yeah! All we have to do is get to Reno and ask around for information, and hopefully we can find him before anyone else does." Slapping his brother on the back with a smile, Bret said,

"Bart, I knew there was a reason I kept you around."

In the darkness, the glow of several fires was the only light that illuminated the figures inside the circle of wagons. Around one of the fires, Flint and Major Adams conversed with Heath Barkley, listening intently to his story.

"Now do you know why I have to take Jones back with me?" Major Adams studied the young man with a frown.

"No, I don't understand!" he said loudly. Confused, Heath asked,

"Why not?" Flint shook his head and looked down at the ground, knowing where the conversation was going.

"I'm supposed to see that nothing happens to any of the members of my train, no matter what they've done in their past," stated the Major emphatically.

"But this was only two months ago!" responded Heath with equal intensity.

"No matter how long, those are my rules," retorted the Major stubbornly. "Jones stays with my train until a lawman comes out here, and even then I can't promise he'll go with you." Heath put his face in his hand, in disbelief that he had come up against someone as stubborn as himself. Finally, realizing that there was nothing else to be said, he walked towards his horse. As he mounted, he said to the Major,

"A lawman will be here soon. Maybe you'll take his word for it that Jones is a murderer." With that, he spurred his horse into a gallop. Flint wasn't sure whether to voice his thoughts or not, for he knew how the Major's temper could flare up, but he decided to risk it.

"Major, what if he's right about Jones? It could be dangerous having him with the train if it's true."

"It's not true!" sputtered Major Adams. "Jones is a decent man, hard-working, willing to do anything for anyone, and men like that just don't go around killing people! Now are you going to stand here all night telling me what to do, or are you going to start doing what you're paid to do?" Flint nodded his head, realizing it had been a mistake yet again to voice his opinion, and turned slowly to look over his maps.