Chapter 86- Potter's Creek

*If you haven't noticed my "goal" this week has been to post daily new chapters. As we have a Christmas wedding that I would love to happen, well at Christmas, I've been working overtime getting these written. I know it is a busy time of year for everyone, so I hope you are still able to read and enjoy these chapters as well as spending time enjoying your family and friends.

That being said, this is a bit of a longer chapter as we get introduced to a few new faces in this story. What I love is you get to "ride along" with Nate as he tries to figure out who can be trusted and who can't in their investigation in Potter's Creek.

Don't worry though. We do have some Charlotte, Allie, and Nathan interactions in this chapter that I loved writing. I also included talks of "ghosts" of Christmas past, just to prepare our souls for the return of Ghost Jack on the WHC Christmas movie tomorrow.

Enjoy the overload of Mountie action in this one.

He had only been here a few minutes, but there was something about the town of Potter's Creek that didn't sit well with Nathan. He tried to brush off the feeling as just being haunted by the ghost of Beck McEntire. The criminal's long history of deceit and torment seemed to seep from the walls of the buildings and float in the dust blowing down the streets.

Townspeople were guarded and unfriendly. Not that Nathan blamed them. The lawman they had in the past did anything but keep the peace for their town. Instead of welcoming waves from the Potter's Creek citizens; Gabe, Bill and Nathan were greeted with closed doors and peeks from behind window curtains.

"Was it like this when you were here before?" Nathan asked Gabe as the three rode into town on the horses they had borrowed from the livery in Lundbreck where they had disembarked from the train last night.

"Yeah," Gabe confirmed. "Not the most welcoming town, is it?"

"Understandable after who they were seemingly being ruled by before," Bill commented.

They rode past the little church at the edge of town. Nathan noted the broken windows and the plaque that lay damaged on the front steps. Next, they came across a wood-planked building that appeared to be the town's one-room schoolhouse. Smoke crept lazily in the sky from the stove's chimney and Nathan wondered to himself who had taken over teaching Charlotte's classroom.

Gabe then guided the men down the main street, past the general store and towards the sheriff's office at the end of the path. As they dismounted their horses, Nathan spotted the telegraph office.

"Hey," Nathan caught Gabe and Bill's attention. "I'm going to go across the street and send word to Charlotte that we made it to town."

"Okay," Bill agreed. "Come back to the office here when you are done, and we will get to work."

Nathan nodded his head in agreement as he walked across the street to the telegraph office. A plump man with a long white beard, who could almost pass for St. Nick himself, sat behind the desk along the wall.

"Excuse me, sir," Nathan said. "Do you have a phone or just the telegraph services?"

The man scanned Nathan from the head to toe with a judgmental furrow to his woolly white brow. "We do. It's in the back there."

Nathan looked up and saw the phone along the back wall. Not very private, but he would much rather hear Charlotte's voice than just send a cold telegram letting her know they had arrived in Potter's Creek.

"I'd be much obliged to use it, sir."

"Where ya callin'."

"Hope Valley. It's up north."

Nathan saw a look of recollection cross the old man's face and he wondered if the town had heard all about what happened in the ultimate demise of their local sheriff. Including where it had happened and who was all involved. He tried to conceal the sudden sense of unease that washed over him as the man looked on.

"That will be a dollar," the man answered gruffly. "Ya gotta' pay before you use it."

"A dollar!"

"I said what I said."

"Does anywhere else in the town have a phone line? Like maybe the general store or…"

"They do."

"Okay, I'll just go…"

"It'd be a dollar there too," the old man cut Nathan off.

"Well, how much would it cost to send the telegram?"

"To Hope Valley?"

"Yes."

"A dollar."

"Sir…"

"The sheriff's office across the street, or I guess I should now say the Mounites' office across the street, has a line. Maybe you should ask them to use their phone since that seems to be where you and your friends are headin'."

"I'm mighty obliged for your information, sir. Have a nice day," Nathan returned his cowboy hat to his head, tipping it in the direction of the other man as he pivoted on his heel to return across the street, slamming the door closed behind him with more force than he probably should have.

Nathan knew he needed to keep his temper in check and not let his feelings about Beck or the town that seemingly turned its back on Charlotte cloud his ability to see clearly where everyone's true allegiance aligned.

He stomped across the street to the Mountie office, taking a deep breath to try and calm himself on the short walk. Maybe this wasn't the right decision for him to come along on this assignment. He should be at home. With her. Drinking coffee on their back steps and dreaming about their future together.

Instead, he was here. Suddenly in a foul mood.

He needed to talk to Charlotte. Maybe hearing her voice would put him back in the right frame of mind. The sooner they were able to wrap up this investigation, the sooner he could get back home. Where he belonged.

"Well, that was quick," Gabe commented as Nathan walked through the door. "Didn't get a hold of her?"

"No, I didn't even call," Nathan responded. "The gentleman in the office was going to charge me a dollar."

"A dollar! For a call to Hope Valley?" Bill's voice rose.

"That was my sentiments exactly," Nathan answered.

"Ah, that's just Mr. Hunter for ya. He's a gruff old man, but from what we can tell, pretty harmless. Just wary of strangers in town," one of the Mounties in the room stated, coming around the desk and extending his hand towards Nathan. "Constable Grant. It's good to see you again."

"Constable Landry!" Nathan hooked his hand into the one offered to him. "It's good to see you."

"Grant," Constable Tremblay extended his hand in greeting as well to his old training instructor.

"Tremblay." Nathan nodded in recognition as he shook the Mountie's hand.

"You're looking good, sir," Tremblay commented. "We weren't sure given all that happened if you were going to come with Kinslow."

"Getting better every day thanks to the dedicated care I've been getting. And I'll be better still if we can get this investigation completed and get back home as soon as possible."

"Ah, yes. We heard you are getting married," Landry commented. "Congratulations. Can't say I saw that coming. I always figured you to be the never-settle-down type of Mountie."

"Why do you say that Landry?" Nathan questioned, raising his brow.

"Well, sir," Landry's voice wobbled slightly, and his cheeks turned the same shade of red as his hair. "I ah… It's probably not my place to say, sir."

"I think what Landry is trying to say," Tremblay stepped in. He had always been the more direct and assertive of the two. "Is that we saw plenty of young women, daughters of various high-ranking officers and others at Fort Clay, trying desperately to catch your eye."

"Really?" Nathan thought back to his time at Fort Clay and his other postings. He had never noticed being the center of anyone's attention, let alone a gaggle of debutants vying for his affections. He had avoided most social functions and dances at the postings. Not that he hadn't wanted to go, it was the never-ending talk among the Mounties leading up to the event, but Nathan always had someone else to think about. Allie. While everyone else at the fort was out having fun, he instead chose to have some quiet, quality time with her.

"Yes, sir. You were always the talk of the ladies on base. They found you very handsome. A bit stoic and guarded, maybe, but that didn't seem to deter them. Actually, I think I heard you described as mysterious and manly on more than one occasion. Many would ask us for introductions, but no one seemed to be able to pull you away from your job and Miss Allie," Tremblay expanded.

"How is little Miss Allie?" Landry worked to change the subject.

"She's good. Not so little anymore. Turning into quite a young lady," Nathan smiled. "She's our pride and joy."

"Is she still as feisty as I remember?" Tremblay asked.

"Yes," Nathan grinned. "But as she's getting older and starting to gain boy's interests, I'm thankful she has that feisty sense about her. She holds her own in most situations."

"Don't boys know better than to mess with a Mountie's daughter?" Tremblay joked, earning a chuckle from Nathan.

"Gosh, I hope so," Nathan answered, running a hand through his hair. "I'm just thankful to have Charlotte's help now to navigate these waters of raising a young woman."

"Why don't you tell us about this lady who finally caught the attention of the irresistible Constable Grant," Landry winked.

"How about we discuss that at a later time boys?" Bill interrupted. "Shouldn't we get started on this investigation?"

"We have strict orders Judge Avery not to open any of these files until Inspector Martin shows up from Cape Fullerton," Landry answered.

"Martin? As in Oliver Martin?" Bill asked.

Tremblay looked down at an official document on the desk in front of him. Scanning the page until he came across the name. "Yes. It says here Inspector Oliver Martin. Head of the Cape Fullerton Inspector unit."

"Do you know him?" Gabe questioned Bill.

"Yeah, we served together for a few years in Union City. Didn't keep in touch with him after I left for Hope Valley. I hadn't realized he got promoted to lead inspector in Cape Fullerton."

Nathan caught the sideways glance that Bill gave him, his sense of unease from earlier suddenly coming back to him.

"When is Inspector Martin scheduled to arrive gentlemen?" Gabe asked the two constables.

"Says here early this afternoon," Tremblay replied. "He's coming in from Fort Mac."

"Well, since we can't get started without him," Gabe stated. "Is there any place in town to grab lunch? That way Grant here can fill you both in on his wedding planning."

All the men chuckled.

"The boarding house down the street, where we are all staying, serves meals. I can't say the food is all that great, but it's usually hot and edible," Landry responded.

"I'll catch up to you all there, if that's alright," Nathan spoke up. "I had promised to call Charlotte to let her know we made it here safely."

"Sure thing," Landry said. "If Mrs. Nightingale at the switchboard gives you any trouble, just say that you are here on official Mountie business and already discussed needing to make this call with Tremblay and I."

"Thanks," Nathan nodded, again catching the sideways glance from Bill as he shrugged on his coat, before heading out the doorway, following the other men as they exited the office.

Nathan knew what Bill was alluding to and waited until the sound of their boots became a distant clop along the boardwalk further down the street and then set to work.

He opened the files in a cabinet and filtered through the desk drawers of Beck's old office. Looking for anything that may be of value to confiscate before Martin showed up and took over the investigation.

Judging by Bill's expression, he was uncertain of Martin's true intentions in this investigation, and while the Mounties would have his job, and possibly more, if Nathan was caught tampering with evidence, he understood the best way forward would be to keep the circle of individuals involved in this case as small as possible.

As Nathan came to the last drawer of the big oak desk, he felt defeated. He knew he hadn't been thorough in going through the few papers McEntire had kept in his office, but still nothing he had come across seemed relevant to help find and arrest the remaining members of the Schneider gang.

Had Beck destroyed it before he left for Hope Valley? Had someone in town or part of the Schneider group come to collect the evidence before Landry and Tremblay arrived? And what about Landry and Tremblay? Did Nathan really know them as well as he thought? They would have had months instead of minutes to go through Beck's office. Anything of importance could have already been hidden or destroyed.

Nathan ran his hands through his hair as a low growl escaped him. What a waste this trip was going to be for them. Charlotte was right. Who were they to believe that any evidence surrounding the Schneider gang would still be here after all this time?

Only one thing was going to fix the despair he felt in the moment.

Her.

He picked up the phone and Mrs. Nightingale worked at connecting the call after Nathan said exactly what Landry had told him to say. As he waited on the line, he reached over to the picture frame on the desk. It was of Charlotte. He knew it was her, but she looked so different from the woman he knew back home. This was Potter's Creek's Charlotte. Beck McEntire's Charlotte.

While this Charlotte's physical features were the same. The brown hair, the grey eyes, the woman staring back at him from the picture, wasn't the same woman he knew now. He saw it in her eyes and the way her hair was styled. Tight. Guarded. Lacking light, laughter, and ultimately love.

No, this wasn't his Charlotte. The realization made Nathan turn over the frame and slide it face-down across the desk.

After a few minutes, Nathan heard Florence on the other end of the line.

"Constable Grant?"

"Yes, Florence."

"I've sent Ned to get Charlotte at the school. I believe the children are having lunch, so he is going to watch them while she comes to the mercantile for your call."

"Thank you, Florence. I appreciate it."

"Hold, please."

After what seemed like a lifetime but was in all reality only a couple of minutes, he heard Charlotte's cheerful voice on the other end of the line.

"Nathan!"

God, it was good to hear her.

"I'm so sorry. I'm out of breath from running down here to take your call. I didn't want to miss the chance to talk to you today. How are you? Did you make it to Potter's Creek alright? No train delays? No bandits on the trail?"

"Bandits on the trail?" Nathan questioned.

"I don't know. My mind last night was racing thinking of all these different possibilities. Remind me the next time you leave home for an assignment; Allie and I don't stay up late reading Western novels about train robbers and outlaws. My imagination just takes over in those situations. I swear I didn't sleep a wink worrying about you."

Nathan suddenly felt emotional, hearing Charlotte's voice.

"I love you. You know that right?" He choked.

There was silence on the line and for a moment he thought the call had been disconnected.

"Charlie? Are you still there?"

"I'm here, Nathan. I love you, too. And yes, I know you love me," her voice was barely above a whisper. "But Nate, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he knew he answered too quickly to make it believable.

"Okay," Another long pause, before Charlotte again spoke up. "I know that's not the truth, but for the sake of being on a public phone line, I'm going to take it as the truth. Just know this, Constable Grant. You are a damn fine Mountie. The best there has ever been in my opinion. Whether you crack this case now, five years down the line, or never. It will not change the way I feel about you."

Nathan let out a long, slow breath.

"So, tell me. Does Potter's Creek have any Christmas decorations up?" Charlotte asked, trying to change the subject.

"Not a stitch. No wonder you moved to Hope Valley."

Charlotte laughed. A sound that instantly seemed to lift his spirits.

"Hang on a second, Nathan. Allie just came through the door and wants to talk to you."

"Dad?"

"Hey. I heard you and Mom were reading Western novels last night."

"Yeah, she already told me that we have to change to something a little more mundane for our night reads. At least until you get home again."

"It's Christmas time, why don't you two read 'A Christmas Carol'. I think the library has a copy."

"What's that about?"

"It's a classic by Charles Dickens that tells a story of an old miser who dislikes Christmas, but after getting visited by a ghost of Christmas past, ghost of Christmas present, and ghost of Christmas future he realizes how wrong he was and changes his way."

"Ghosts? Cool!" Allie's bright voice exclaimed. "Hey, Mom wants to talk to you again. Here she is. Love you."

"Love you."

Nathan heard the scuffling of the receiver being moved around as Allie handed the phone back to Charlotte.

"Ghosts?" Charlotte joked. "You really think that ghosts are better for me to be reading about while you're gone than outlaws?"

"I didn't know you believe in ghosts, Ms. Thompson."

"I don't. But why couldn't you have suggested a different Christmas book, like 'The Nutcracker' or something."

"You think that an evil mouse king is better to read about at night than a ghost?"

"Okay. You have a point," Charlotte giggled. "Ghosts. That I don't believe in. It is."

Nathan tilted his head back and laughed.

"There it is."

"There what is?" Nathan questioned.

"Your laugh. I've missed it."

"Thank you, Charlotte."

"For what?"

"Lifting my spirits."

"Anytime, love," her voice was husky and soft. "If you're feeling low, just call me, okay. I'll be here. Day or night. Actually, if we are going to be reading about these ghosts or evil mouse kings, I'll probably be up anyway."

Nathan laughed again. "I'll try to let you get your beauty sleep. Our wedding is coming up quickly."

"And so is our wedding night," Charlotte whispered. "I better get rested while I can."

Nathan seemingly choked on air as he began sputtering and coughing.

"Are you alright?" Charlotte asked, concern laced her voice.

"Yeah, I think so," Nathan answered as he worked to clear his throat. "Have I mentioned before that Christmas can't get here soon enough?"

Charlotte chuckled. "I think a time or two."

"Charlotte, not that I don't want to keep talking to you, but I should let you go reprieve Ned from his substitute teaching duties before things get out of control."

"You're probably right. The kids are turning into little hooligans with Christmas and winter break coming up soon."

"Ah, yes. It happens every year, doesn't it?"

"That it does."

Nathan could almost hear the smile that was on Charlotte's face.

"Take care, Nathan. Remember what we talked about. I'm always here when you need me. I love you."

"I love you. I'll be home soon."

Inspector Oliver Martin rolled into the dining room of the boarding house right as the men were finishing their lunch. Boots shined and uniform pristine, he held a certain air about him, like many officers who served. An arrogance that Nathan hadn't missed being around since transferring to Hope Valley.

"Gentleman, glad to see you are hard at work," Martin mocked.

"Just getting a bite to eat, sir," Landry spoke up. "We were told we couldn't start the investigation process until you arrived."

"Well, I'm here now, so why are you still leisurely lunching like a table full of high-society ladies instead of members of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police."

"Oliver," Bill stood and extended his hand towards Martin. "It's been a few years. Didn't know you got transferred to Cape Fullerton."

"Bill Avery," shock spread across Martin's face as he took Bill's hand in greeting. "Last I heard you quit the Mounties and have become a judge. What are you doing here?"

"I was a part of the initial investigation into McEntire."

"Right, the one that headquarters was never informed about until after the suspect was shot and killed."

"It was warranted. McEntire had kidnapped our town's teacher and then shot Constable Grant here," Bill gritted his teeth.

"Nathan Grant?" For the first time since blowing into the dining room did Martin's eyes fall on Nathan. "Why are you here?"

Nathan squinted his eyes trying to get a better read on Martin.

"I asked Constable Grant and Judge Avery to join me," Gabe rose from his chair to stand toe to toe with Martin. "Their background and knowledge of this investigation is invaluable. That's what I told headquarters and why they approved for them to join us here."

Martin scowled at Gabe and then turned to the rest of the group and bellowed. "If you're finished here, it would do well for us to return to the office and begin going through these files. I'm a much-requested investigator in my division and have other cases to get to once this is finished."

Everyone rose and followed Martin out the door, Bill hanging back ever so slightly to pull Nathan to the side. "Did you find anything?"

"Nothing. I think Beck either got rid of it before he left, or Schneider was here before Landry and Tremblay rode into town."

"Shoot," Bill gritted. "Well at least Martin won't find anything either."

"What is the story there?"

Bill groaned. "More than I have time to expand on now."

"Do you think he's the connection to the Schneider gang?"

"I'm not sure. It's hard to imagine anyone wanting to work with Oliver. Even the Schneider gang."

Nathan chuckled. "Are you saying he's always been this way?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Insufferable is the one word that has always come to my mind when I think of Oliver Martin."

The afternoon in the sheriff's office trudged on. Martin threw his weight around and criticized everyone's process of going through the various documents they uncovered in Beck's office. While at the same time never lifting a finger to help.

Nathan went along with it and tried to keep his head down. He already knew they weren't going to find anything here. When he finished a particular stack of papers he stood, rotating his shoulder that had become stiff from the way he had been sitting hunched over reports.

"I'm going outside to get some air," he stated, grabbing his coat and heading towards the door.

"Five minutes, Grant," Martin barked. "Then I expect you back in here and going through these telegrams."

Nathan had thankfully closed the door before Martin could finish his instructions. Muffling the inspector's shouts. He took a deep breath as he stepped out on the boardwalk, leaning casually against a post, Nathan scanned his surroundings. Evening was beginning to set in and only a few people were walking down the main street at this hour. Further down the road, by the schoolhouse, a middle aged woman trudged along. Her scraggly, gray hair was pinned into a harsh, high bun that pulled back the crinkled skin along her face. Across the street, Mr. Hunter scowled at Nathan before turning back to lock the door of his telegraph office. Nathan wished he would have been able to ask Charlotte what she knew about Hunter. Was he someone that could be trusted?

Nathan's eyes followed Hunter as he moved down the boardwalk and almost ran into an old cowboy coming out of the general store laden with boxes of supplies. He saw Hunter and the other man exchange what appeared to be terse words and a few glances in Nathan's direction.

As Hunter moved on, the older cowboy started to load his purchases into an awaiting wagon. He occasionally looked across the street at Nathan, his expression unreadable. Nathan was about to head over and help the gentleman load his packages and try to make small talk, when Tremblay stepped out of the office to join him.

Nathan let out a sigh. "Martin send you to get me?"

"How did you know?" Warren Tremblay smirked, running a hand through his jet-black hair.

"Lucky guess," Nathan shrugged.

"He wants us to finish up in the office tonight and move onto McEntire's house tomorrow," Tremblay stated.

"Nothing like a rushed investigation, huh?" Nathan commented.

"I never understood how fools like him get promoted in the Mounties and men like you…" Tremblay's voice trailed off as Nathan looked over at him.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't speak so freely," Tremblay corrected. "It's just lately I've been wondering if the Mounties are the right fit for me. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy what I do, serving and protecting the people of this territory, I just don't like the bureaucracy of it all.

Nathan gave an understanding smile. "Don't worry. I've felt that way a time or two as well."

"You have?"

Nathan nodded his head.

"But yet, you still choose to be a Mountie. Why?"

"One, for the reason you said earlier. To serve and protect. To right the wrongs. To honor those good men we have lost in the line of duty. While I can't save everyone, and I can't right every wrong, and while I certainly can't bring back those men, I can honor them, their wives, and their families by continuing to serve in an honorable fashion."

Nathan looked over and saw Tremblay staring at him. Processing what Nathan had just said.

"Plus, I found a woman who saw me. The real me. I was never just Constable Grant to her. I was always Nathan. Finding that love and support… It made me realize that being a Mountie does not define who I am. I could be all those things I said earlier, even if I was called to serve in other ways that no longer required me to wear the serge."

"She sounds like an amazing woman. I wish I could say I wasn't slightly jealous," Warren commented.

Nathan reached over and patted his comrade on the shoulder "Don't lose faith, Tremblay. From my experience, these women have a way of crashing into your life when you're least expecting it."

"Does Ms. Thompson have a sister who could be interested in me?"

Nathan chuckled. "No, unfortunately she doesn't, but we'll try to keep an eye out for ya."

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

The sound of the wagon pulling away from the loading dock, drew Nathan's attention across the street. His gaze fell upon the older cowboy as he directed his team of horses down the road and out of town.

"Warren. Who is that gentleman in the wagon?" Nathan asked.

"Ol' man Bartlett, I believe."

"John Bartlett?"

"Do you know him?"

"No. But Charlotte had mentioned his name once. Have you talked to him before?"

"Never. Not even a hello across the street. He seems to keep to himself and stay on his ranch other than picking up supplies here in town occasionally."

Nathan nodded as he watched the wagon disappear around the corner "Do you know where his ranch is?"

"I've never been there, but it's southwest of town I believe. There is a map of the area's landowners in the office if you would like to take a look at it."

Before Nathan could answer Martin bayed from inside. "Grant! Tremblay! You've been out there long enough. We need to finish here before anyone is done for tonight."

Nathan rolled his eyes and gave Tremblay a sympathetic smile as the two men headed back inside.

The next morning, Gabe and Bill joined Landry, Tremblay, and Martin at Beck's old residence. Gabe and Bill explained to Martin that Nathan's injury started acting up the night before and so they thought it best he stay at the boarding house to rest, and then join them in the afternoon.

Nathan had watched the men start their walk across town to Beck's house from the window of his room. After they had been gone for about ten minutes, he made his way down the stairs and slipped out the back door of the boarding house. Walking through the alley to the livery at the end of the street. He saddled the horse he had ridden into town, before leading it back out to the alley, checking one more time that no one was watching he swung a leg over the horse's back and took off towards the southwest.

At the edge of town, Nathan stopped the horse and pulled a map from his saddlebag. The map was the one Tremblay had told him about the night before of the local landowners. Nathan had discreetly placed the drawing in his pocket when he came across it in a stack of papers as they were finishing up in the sheriff's office. Later in the evening, back at the boarding house, Nathan filled Gabe and Bill in on his plan. While neither of them was too excited about it, they agreed that Nathan's idea may be their only hope of making actual progress in the investigation and advantageous use of their time in Potter's Creek.

According to the map, the Bartlett ranch was just a few miles out of town. Nathan pushed his horse into a trot and soon enough they had arrived at the property's entrance. Nathan turned onto the path that led towards the ranch headquarters and as he rode over a small rise, he saw the house, barn, and a shed laid out in front of him along the edge of a gully. The red buildings with white trim popping out against the grey winter landscape that surrounded him.

Nathan scanned the acreage but saw no one there. Not Mr. Bartlett, not a ranch hand, not a soul. Other than a herd of cattle on a distant hill and a few draft horses in the pens beside the barn, the homestead was deserted.

Still Nathan rode his horse to the ranch house, dismounted, and tied the reins to the banister of the porch. He stepped up to the front door and knocked.

There was no answer, so he knocked again a little harder this time.

"Mr. Bartlett."

Still no answer came. Nathan turned on the porch and looked around to see if he had missed something the first time. Didn't Tremblay say that Bartlett didn't leave the ranch much? Maybe he was out in a different pasture?

Nathan was getting nervous. He had to be back in town by noon to meet up with the rest of the group and not draw any suspicion from Martin. He had no time to ride around Bartlett's expansive ranch looking for him.

Nathan turned back to the house and knocked once more. When again, no answer came, he peeked in the window beside the door. Detecting no movement, he decided to walk towards the barn to see if anyone was there or if there were any saddle horses missing from the stalls indicating the rancher was out riding the herds.

He slid open the door to the barn.

"Hello. Is anyone here?" Nathan asked as he moved past the few stalls that lined the walls. Each filled with a horse happily eating from their trough of oats and hay.

"Mr. Bartlett?"

This is pointless. Nathan thought to himself. He was about to turn around and head back to town when the cold feel of a gun barrel pressed roughly against his spine and the unmistakable sound of the weapon being cocked ricocheted off the stillness of the barn walls, stopping Nathan in his tracks.

"Don't move a muscle," a gravelly voice sounded from behind him. "Or it will be the last thing you do."