Just before the dawn had even crested over the horizon, Jack awoke on his normal routine. He was always up before the dawn to get chores done. The life of a farmer started before the dawn and went until the sun was gone. Stiffly rolling off his shredded bed that sat upon the floor, Jack dressed himself and slipped out to the kitchen. Sleepily making himself some coffee, he decided to skip breakfast. He needed to ration what he had, and he didn't feel like cooking. Putting the pot over the smoldering embers of the fireplace, he glanced over at the couch. Mark was snoring away and looked about as comfortable as he could be. Creeping over, Jack lifted the blanket to check on Mark's bandaged leg. He was worried about an infection setting in, but it looked alright. He wanted to change the blood-stained bandages but decided to wait until Mark was awake. Leaning over the couch to check Mark's arm, he tried to be as discreet as possible. Only to hear Mark muffle groggily into the couch. "You're making me uncomfortable when you do that... It's creepy." Huffing lightly, he replied coolly. "Checking to see if you're ok is creepy?"

Looking up at him, Mark dryly droned out. "No. Touching me while I'm sleeping is creepy. Can't you wait until I'm awake?" Smoothing the bandage on his arm down, he told Mark honestly. "Nope. I have too much work to do. I don't want you to be in pain for hours until I get back at sundown." Peeking over the arm of the chair, Mark looked out the window before grumbling out. "It's not even sunup. What's wrong with you?" Rolling his eyes, Jack moved away to retrieve his pot of coffee, stating under his breath. "Fucking cowboys..." Easing upright, Mark almost growled out. "Watch yourself, dirt scratcher." Jack tensed at the insult but told Mark as calmly as he could to avoid a fight. "Don't call me that. I was merely insulting a cowman's work ethic. Must be nice to sleep in all the time." Mark swung his legs down, retorting sternly. "My dad worked just as hard as you do. Sometimes harder because of all the fences that you farmers put up around the cattle ranges." Sighing, Jack poured himself some coffee, mumbling out over the cup. "Agree to disagree. We wouldn't have to put up fences if the cowboys didn't let their free-range cattle trample through our fields."

Mark leaned forward on his knees, narrowing his eyes on Jack as he almost growled out. "Cattle don't get big sitting in a grassless pen. They get more meat on their bones by moving and eating fresh grass from the open ranges. Maybe your dairy cows are good for sitting around... but the meat cattle need those ranges that you dig up so selfishly." Sipping his coffee, Jack locked eyes with Mark before stating out lightly. "I'm glad you're a sheriff and not a cowboy. Otherwise, we wouldn't be talking. Coffee?" Lowering his eyes to the floor, Mark nodded but said nothing. Fetching a second mug, Jack poured some coffee for Mark and walked over to hand it to him. Mark accepted the mug, but as Jack turned to leave, Mark grabbed his gun belt to stop him. Without looking up at him, Mark told him in a nicer tone. "I'm sorry. I'm not a morning person. You've been kind to me, and I should be grateful... It's just that's a sore topic for me." Warming his hands with his cup, Jack exhaled out nicely. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have brought it up. It's just... been weighing on my mind lately."

Looking up at him, Mark asked curiously. "What do you mean?" Taking a seat on a stool by the fireplace, Jack shrugged out to him. "With everything that has been going on... I can't help wondering who benefits from chasing the farmers away. It will cut the throat of this town... unless they had people to replace us. The cowboys. As you said, with the farmers gone, the fences will disappear. The cowboys will move back in." Mark tapped his finger on his mug, shaking his head as he distantly replied. "No. The town can't be supported on meat supply alone. Besides, it's too late. When the mine opened, the miners tore up most of the mountain ranges. The farmers fenced off most of the plains. The land can't support large herds anymore. So, it's not the cowboys doing this. Nor does it explain the Marshal's hand in this with those kids..." Gulping down his coffee, Jack decided to start changing Mark's bandages as he asked him. "Then it must be about the old dried up mine. Why is he trying to reopen it?" Mark scooted over to let Jack sit beside him, grimly answering. "I don't know. The mayor found some old deed for it and just started bringing it up one day. He's convinced it's not dry."

Unwrapping the blood-stained bandage from around his arm, Jack casually told him. "Why would he think that? The place has been dry for years..." Jack licked his dry lips as his fingers moved over Mark's strong bicep. Mark didn't appear to notice the lingering touches. Instead, Mark just told him a bit distractedly. "Maybe it has something to do with the mine collapse... The town was very popular when the mine was running." Lightly brushing his thumb over the stitches, Jack mumbled out very softly. "Was it? I wasn't here then. I only heard about it at the saloon." Nodding solemnly, Mark's voice turned slightly pained when he told him. "Ya... The silver from the mines is what brought the train here. Faster means of shipping it away to the big cities. Everyone wants to be where the fresh money is... So, we had people come from all over. Until the mine started to dry up... and the mine shaft collapsed..." Jack stopped wrapping the bandage around his arm, his eyes darting up to ask him reluctantly. "Didn't you say your mom worked in the..." Mark looked away and Jack dropped the subject. With a heavy sigh though, Mark added numbly. "I tried to talk the mayor out of reopening the mines. But he won't listen. To be honest... I've been working harder to keep that mine closed than on all this farmer discourse."

Finishing up the arm bandage, Jack moved to his leg, telling him nicely. "I guess, I can understand why." Leaning back, Mark huffed out dryly. "Now you're being too nice. You should be yelling at me for putting the memory of my mother before people losing their homes." Peering up, Jack smirked out just a little. "Do you want me to yell at you?" Lifting his leg a bit to help Jack remove the bandage, he huffed out under his breath. "Aren't you mad? Aren't the Irish known for their tempers?" Jack shot Mark a light glare, retorting back snarkily. "Aren't half-breeds like you known for abandonment issues?" Mark didn't say anything, allowing Jack to gently tell him. "Look... I can't fault you for not wanting to relive that memory or risking someone else living it. As upset as I am about my farm... I blame the mayor more than you. You have about as much power as I do in this world... both of us will work ourselves to an early grave in one way or another." When he finished wrapping Mark's leg, he got up and added in a cheerier tone of voice. "Anyway, you should get some more rest and I'll take your letters into town. Do you want anything while I'm out?"

Setting the mug of coffee on the side table, Mark shook his head but told him seriously. "Just be careful. They'll be hunting for anyone that knows about me." Swallowing, Jack's eyes darted to his rifle, before he decided to take it. Taking the letters, he retrieved the rifle and draped the strap over his shoulder. Venturing out to make sure that his cows had water, he swung up onto his horse and road off toward town. Just as the sun rose into the sky, Jack rode into the empty streets of the town. His breathing increasing as his eyes darted around for anything unusual. He was rarely in town this early and it scared him. Everything was so quiet. Riding up to the mayor's office, Jack exhaled heavily. The place looked intact. Hitching his horse, he dismounted and headed nervously to the door. Knocking, he waited to be called in but got no answer. Was he still asleep? He thought about sliding the letter under the door but didn't want the Marshal stumbling onto it first. Stashing the letter into his pocket, he made his way over to the sheriff's office. Inching up the steps, Jack froze as the door opened. Towering in the doorway, Deputy Wade spit off the porch, then asked him nervously. "Jack...? What are you doing here so early...? And with that much iron?"

Glancing around, Jack asked him in a quivering voice. "Are you alone? The Marshal and his deputies aren't here?" Wade raised an eyebrow, stepping back to look at someone inside with worry. Shuffling his feet, Jack showed him the letter, mumbling out. "I have a letter for you and Deputy Bob." From inside, Bob's voice calmly told Wade. "Let him in, Wade." Wade jerked his head to beckon Jack in. Jack slipped in, noticing how Wade closed the door and rested his hand on the gun hanging off his hip. Bob sat at a smaller desk with his name plate, one hand was writing something, but his other hand was half hidden under the desk. Approaching the desk, Bob told him cautiously. "The Marshal and his deputies are out looking for someone. They'll be back by noon to hang HIM. Can I help you?" Jack glanced at the cell, where the outlaw was shackled to the wall. The outlaw's cloth gag was soaked in blood, and he looked terrible. His face was swollen and bloody. Snapping out of his fear, he handed the letter to Bob, telling him in a rush. "I have a letter from the Sheriff."

Wade's fingers curled around the handle of his gun, darkly growling out. "Impossible. Marshal said Nathan killed him. There out looking for his body now." Bob waved his hand to calm Wade, taking the letter to read it. Turning sideways, Jack whispered to Wade under his breath timidly. "The Marshal is a liar. He shot him. He thinks the mayor is next because he told the Marshal that he suspected them." Wade narrowed his eyes on him but asked Bob lightly. "Bob? What does it say? Is it legit?" Bob folded the letter, getting to his feet as he told him seriously. "Wade, gather the horses. We gotta move now." Wade tilted his head, asking curiously. "How many?" Bob put his large brown hat on, replying seriously. "Four. Get Mark and Nathan's horses." Jack gasped, backing up as he stammered out. "W-what? Why?" Bob removed his shotgun from a hostler under his desk, telling Jack seriously as he headed to the cell. "Mark is wrong. Did you give the mayor his letter?" Jack shook his head, causing Bob to relax a little as he told him. "Good. You might have just saved us. Help me get him out."

Bob opened the cell and Jack blurted out curiously. "How is Mark wrong?" Bob used his keys on the shackles holding Nathan up, answering a bit anxiously. "Because last night, the mayor made the Marshal the new Sheriff. The mayor even sent us home to spend... alone time with the Marshal. When we came in for our shift... we saw Nate like this. The Marshal said he tried to escape... but my gut tells me otherwise. You know where he is?" Jack nodded, watching Bob heft Nathan over his shoulder. Pointing to a trunk in the corner, Bob told him commandingly. "Fetch Nate's stuff. In there. Then take us to him." Gathering up Nate's stuff in a bag, Jack rushed after Bob, stammering out. "You do know how many people Nathan has killed, right? I'm not really comfortable with-" Bob cut him off as Wade ran over. Looking down the road, Wade panted out. "We've got a problem." Bob removed his pistol, when the Marshal moved around the building with his rifle across his arms. Tilting his head back, the Marshal told Bob so coolly. "Oh, Bob. I told you not to cause a dust up. You wanna go. Go. But that vermint belongs to me."

Bob narrowed his eyes on the Marshal, prompting the Marshal to exhale heavily before adding with a shrug. "I underestimated you, Bob. I thought you were just Mark's little lap dog... Should have known that you are more like a hawk. Too observant for your own good. Too loyal." Wade raised his pistol and Bob joined him, telling the Marshal bitterly. "You killed him, didn't you?" Jack shot Bob a confused look but said nothing. The Marshal smirked, sneering out devilishly. "The old dog outlived his prime. It was a mercy killing. Although... I would have loved to stage him getting mauled by a bear. We even had one brought here and set it up in his barn. What a waste." Bob pulled back the hammer, until the Marshal whistled, and more guns clicked from the roof tops and behind them. The Marshal gestured for them to put their guns down, before approaching them. Kicking their guns off the porch for his deputies to collect, the Marshal sighed out to them. "Your mistake was thinking that I trusted you to do anything. I was testing your loyalty and you failed." Bob set down Nathan, then grumbled out to the Marshal. "I don't know who you think you are. But you haven't seen the last of us."

The Marshal bit his lower lip, then told Bob smugly. "I think I have. Cause I'm gonna hang you high beside him. This is a hostile take over and you've lost. This town belongs to me now." The young deputies moved in to grab them, dragging them across town toward the gallows. Jack thrashed and kicked out as they gagged and bound his wrists behind him. The Marshal tossed their stuff into a large horse cart, chuckling out. "Guess, we'll have to add a few more coffins to the cart and hitch your horses up." The young deputies resorted to lifting Jack off the ground to keep him from struggling so much, while the Marshal told them excitedly. "You're going to hell boys and your horses will take you there." The deputies strung up a few more nooses and set them into them one at a time. As they tightened the rough rope around Jack's neck, tears ran down his face as his legs shook on the trapdoor. The Marshal walked down the line of them, stopping in front of Jack to chuckle out. "What a group you are. But how do YOU play into this?" One of the deputies handed the letters to the Marshal, telling him gruffly. "They had these on them, boss."

Jack winced, biting down on the gag. The Marshal smirked as he read them, then turned to tap the folded letters under Jack's chin as he purred out to him. "Good thing I sent some of my boys to burn your house down and destroy what's left of that little farm of yours. Retrieving his body will be easier than I thought. If he wasn't a ghost before. He is now." To Be Continued...