Jack removed his hat and exhaled heavily as he watched the last of his barn fall to ashen cinders. Glancing back at his house, his heart sank further. His front door was hanging off the hinges. Jogging up the steps of his porch, he slipped inside to see the damage. Inside his little cabin, he saw his things scattered about and turned over. Plates were smashed and furniture was flipped over. His bed had been sliced up and his blankets were thrown about. They'd searched the place for any valuables that he had. Gritting his teeth, he stared at the empty mantle above the fireplace. His rifle was gone. Easing over to his bookcase, he removed the last of the books on the bottom shelf and reached in to slide the back panel aside. Crawling in, he checked his safe room. Everything was good here. They hadn't gotten to his stash of food and his prized hunting guns. Taking a pistol from the rack inside, he crawled back out and buckled it on. Closing the panel, he got to his feet and returned to his cart outside. Unable to put his horse in the barn, he unhitched her and led her to his porch to tire her reins around a post.

Fetching a lantern, he prepared to make a ride into the mountains. He had to find his cattle before some wild animals picked them off. He couldn't afford to lose a single one. Patting his horse's neck, he told her unhappily. "This is going to be a rough trip without a saddle... Let's just hope the cattle want to come back and don't put up a fight. Otherwise... It's going to be a long night." Collecting a small overnight bag with a few supplies, he tried to prepare for a night in the wilderness. Stashing the feed from the cart into his safe room, he headed out and hopped up onto his horse to ride up the trail and into the mountains. Back in town, Mark pulled a file off his desk in the Sheriff's office. He had just finished pinning up the bounty posters that had come in from the big city and was going to start work on the file of complaints, when another farmer burst into his office. Slamming a bleeding decapitated bull head on his desk, the older man snapped out angrily at him. "You want evidence?! Here's your fucking evidence, Sheriff! You see what those boys did to my prize-winning bull?! Or should I drag his torn up carcass through town for ya!"

Sighing, Mark watched the blood drip off his brand new deck, before telling him calmly. "Dusty... I told you. You have no evidence that those boys did this. For all I know you did this yourself just to frame them." Dusty gawked at him, then shouted out bitterly. "WHY WOULD I DO THIS TO MYSELF?! I can't breed him like this! How about you get off your ass and bring those hooligans in here! I won't be harassed like this!" Mark dropped the heavy file onto a clean portion of his desk, snapping back with overwhelmed annoyance. "Now see here! I am up to my neck in complaints! But I can't just arrest some guys based on what you say alone! You could be mistaken! I have protocols to follow and evidence to gather! I'm not locking away a group of boys because you FEEL they've done it! I have to know for sure that they did. Understand?!" Dusty finished something out from his pocket and tossed it onto the folder, then glared at him as he told him bitterly. "Alright. How is this then." Mark stared at the piece of metal in silence. Pointing to it, Dusty snapped out darkly. "I shot that bastard on my farm this morning with my rifle. Got him in the arm as he was trying to set my barn ablaze. That got snagged on my fence as he fled."

Leaning closer over the desk, Dusty sneered out through clenched teeth. "That enough evidence for you to at least look into this shit, Sheriff? Or are you apart of this?" Mark picked up the scuffed and bloodstained Deputy Marshal badge. Closing his fingers around it, he told Dusty seriously. "I'll take care of this. And get that fucking thing off my desk, Dusty." Snatching his hat, he put it on and stormed from the building. To his Deputies that sat on the porch playing cards, he told them defensively. "Bob. Wade. Mind the place while I'm gone. I've got to check something out." Bob straightened up, asking with concern. "You don't want us to come with?" Climbing up onto his horse that was hitched before the building, Mark told them seriously. "No. Someone needs to be here. Bob, you're in charge until I get back." Wade threw down his cards on the barrel head, grumbling out. "Again? That's not fair..." Bob pushed his pretzels closer to Wade, prompting Wade's mood to vanish as he cooed out. "Oooo, don't mind if I do." Turning his horse around, Mark told them with a pointed finger in their direction. "Stay vigilant. I mean it! And Wade... When you get the chance, clean off my desk."

Without waiting for their reply, he kicked his horse into a trot through town. As he rode past the mayor's office, the mayor got up from his rocking chair and asked nervously. "Sheriff? Where are you off too?" Mark kept his eyes focused on the road but answered as he passed by. "Following a lead. I'm gonna find the Marshal." The mayor called out to him in a hopeful and pleading tone. "Now? Can't you wait until he returns? Sheriff?" Mark didn't grace him with an answer. He couldn't wait. He wanted to deal with this in private. The longer he waited, the more evidence would disappear. Like it had been for months. He had suspected the Willis boys for weeks but couldn't tie them to any of it. Now it suddenly was clicking together. The Marshal's young Deputies were around the same age as the Willis boys. However, while the Willis boys were known for some brutal pranks now and then. The Marshal's Deputies were well behaved. He'd never had reason to even suspect them until now. The only thing that he couldn't piece together was why. While the Marshal had been here for months, his Deputies had only arrived in town within the last week. Or had they?

Riding out of the town, he followed the horse tracks that rode out along the train tracks before veering up toward the mountains. Glancing at the setting sun that warmed the sky in soft shades of orange and red, he exhaled and kept following the tracks. He didn't like going into the mountains. It was easy to get lost out there if you didn't know your way and infested with wild animals. Snakes and coyotes mostly. Although, he had heard rumors of bears and Indians returning to the area. Picking up his pace, he hoped to catch up with the others before it got too late. He rode down the hillside carefully, keeping his eyes open for anything. His horse slid down the dusty hill but managed to get down alright. Just as he came to a split in the trail, he heard gunshots thunder across the sky and spurred his horse into a run. Taking a shortcut, he had an idea where they were heading. There was an old Indian trail that he knew of through the mountains when his mom used to work in the old mine. His horse bolted over the high rise, allowing him a nice view of the riders down below him in the gulley. The Marshal and his Deputies were hot on the heels of the bandit.

The bandit was a slick rider. His horse weaved easily through the rocks and over the terrain with ease. He had no doubt in his mind that the man had been in this area before. He knew it too well not to. The Marshal fired his pistol at the bandit, but the bandit's horse cut around the rock formations to evade the shots as best that he could. Running out of rocks to dodge around, the Marshal fired again with his men, and Mark watched as the bandit grabbed the horn of his saddle and swung off it to hug the horse's side. This allowed him a perfect shot to the people chasing him and made him a much harder target to hit. The bandit shot three of the Marshal's Deputies off their horses, but he had to pull himself back into the saddle and brace for the sharp turn. Mark's Indian trail was going to meet up with the main road almost exactly as the Bandit would run by. Withdrawing his pistol, he tried to steady himself as he lined up his shot. If he did it just right, he could hit him the second they passed the rock wall dividing the roads. He saw the main road and got excited, until his horse jerked into a stop, causing him to pull the trigger in a wild shot.

As his horse skidded to a stop just before the main road, Mark gasped as he saw the cattle blocking the road in a confused state. His bullet struck the young bull at the front, causing it to stagger on its feet. The startled cows charged and scattered around, but the damage was done. As the bandit rode around the corner, his horse couldn't stop and slammed into the wounded young bull. The young bull collapsed from the impact and sent the bandit's horse sprawling over it. The bandit was thrown from the saddle and into a young heifer that tumbled to her knees before staggering up to run away. The bandit groaned and stiffly got up to his feet, just as the Marshal rode around the corner and pulled his horse into a graceful sliding stop. Clicking back the hammer on his gun, the Marshal teased out to the bandit. "Hands up, Boy. The joy ride is over. I've finally got you. And I'm going to enjoy nailing you into a coffin." Dusting himself off, the bandit yanked down his bandana and strained out dryly. "Ya? That's what gets you off, Marshal? Cause the first thing I'm going to enjoy after escaping... is nailing your wife."

The Marshal pulled the trigger, his shot missing the bandit as his horse became startled by the loud noise. The bandit turned to his side and fired his own pistol into the Marshal's side. The bandit cocked the hammer back as the Marshal fell from his horse, but before the bandit could fire again, Mark called out to him as he aimed his gun at him. "Drop the gun. You're under arrest, Nathan." Nathan's dark eyes met his, but he didn't lower his gun. Instead, Nathan snapped out bitterly. "You don't know him like I do, Sheriff. Back off. My feud ain't with you." Cocking back the hammer of his gun, Mark slid off his horse and retorted firmly. "I have questions for him. You kill him and I'll have no choice but to arrest you for murder." Rolling his eyes, Nathan told him icily. "Their gonna hang me anyway. But I'm not going out before him and his lot!" Mark turned his head to see more of the Marshal's Deputies riding in from the opposite direction. They looked tired and surprised to see them there. Nathan turned to see them, realizing he was suddenly surrounded. Walking up to him cautiously, Mark extended out his hand for Nathan's gun. Nathan inched back, then rashly tried to shoot the Marshal, resorting in Mark acting quickly.

Shoving Nathan off balance, he quickly struck him with the pommel of his gun to knock him out. Retrieving a set of irons from his belt, he quickly cuffed his wrists behind his back. Upon straightening up onto his feet, Mark holstered his gun as the Marshal grunted out to him. "Well done, Sheriff. How did you get here so fast? Nevermind. I'm grateful." Facing the Marshal, Mark told him bluntly. "Gather up your deputies. I want to speak to them." The Marshal looked to his deputies with a concerned expression like a parent would have, before asking a little uneasily. "May I inquire as to why, Sheriff? Have they done something wrong?" Removing the badge from his jacket pocket, he showed the Marshal as he informed him. "It seems one of your Deputies was harassing Dustin Kulin this morning. Mutilated his prized bull. They left this behind. I wanna have a word with him." The Marshal looked at the badge, then asked him softly without meeting his eyes. "Does the mayor know about this?" Mark nodded. The Marshal exhaled, then walked past Mark to snap out at his Deputies. "Alright. Show me your badges, Boys. NOW!" The Deputies all began pulling their jackets away from their chests to reveal their shiny badges. All except one.

The young Deputy shifted nervously in his saddle, glancing at the other boys that had rode in recently with him. Mark noticed their dirty clothes and recognized the smell on the breeze. They'd been burning wood. It was clinging to them like flies on the dead. The Marshal shook his head, turning away from them as the young Deputy rushed out. "I'm sorry. I didn't know that I had lost it! I was going to tell you but you were busy and I didn't want-" The Marshal picked something up off the ground and in a fluid movement shot the boy dead. The others gasped but didn't react more to the sudden turn of events. Mark whirled on the Marshal, snapping out. "Why did you do that?! Drop the gun!" The Marshal slowly turned Nathan's gun on Mark, prompting his Deputies to aim their guns at him. Tsking softly, the Marshal sighed out coolly to him. "I'm sorry, Sheriff. I really didn't want things to go down this way. But I can't have a man like you around. You're too dangerous. And I know in my heart that you won't let this go. I didn't come this far to lose." Mark raised his hands, trying to remain calm as he told them boldly. "Think about what you're doing. I'm a lawman. You're lives will be over."

The Marshal huffed, smirking out. "No. I let you live, and my life is over. It will be easier for us to cover up your death. Nathan shot you. The bullet will match. You'll go out a hero that saved my life. It's better than the death we had planned for you. Happy trails, Partner." Mark could only gasp before the men unloaded their guns into him. Farther up the hill, Jack covered his mouth to keep himself from making a sound as he hid behind the bushes. He was so scared that he was trembling. Mark fell to the ground and didn't move. Confident that he was dead, the Marshal turned to his Deputies and snapped out. "Bunch of fucking idiots. I told you to scare those hicks from their farms and leave no trace! Do so again and I'll put an end to your stupidity like I did with Kenneth. UNDERSTAND?!" They all nodded, then the Marshal pointed to Nathan and added darkly. "Let's take him in. Time to cover for your pathetic asses again." Jack watched them gather Nathan onto a horse before riding off back to town. Waiting a bit longer just to be sure that they were gone, Jack ran back for his horse that was grazing on some grass, before running down to the Sheriff.

Dropping off his horse, Jack rushed to Mark's side to check his pulse. Finding that his heartbeat was still pretty strong, he opened his jacket to look for wounds and only found a serious one on his arm. To his bewilderment, there were bullets peppered across his shirt and vest... but none had entered him. Easing Mark's shirt up just a little, he ran his hand over the interlinked metal of chain mail. He hadn't seen anyone in the U.S. wearing these, but they were still quite popular in Europe. Smirking to himself, Jack uttered out a little excited. "I can't believe it. You're still alive..." Bringing his horse closer, Jack hefted Mark up onto his horse and rushed him back home. While leading what remained of his herd of cattle back home as well. To Be Continued...