The interior of the house was full of deep shadows and Rueben crept toward Prescott's library. From what he knew of the man, a safe would be hidden inside somewhere, containing a large sum of money. To honor his promise to Jim and Olivia, he wanted that gold. Undetected, he made it to the library door, the handle turning smoothly under his touch.

Easing to the desk he slid open the drawers, looking for any clue as to where Prescott kept his valuables. Moving on to the bookshelves, he went through them as quickly and quietly as he could. Moving a few tokens off one shelf, he saw the dim outline of a door and grinned.

"Found you," a soft step in the hall outside froze him. When the door swung open Rueben dropped to a crouch, obscured by a large chair and shadow. The silhouette in the doorway was slim.

"Lane?" Rueben stiffened at the voice. "Lane, I know you have to be in here, I want to talk,"

Taking a moment, he watched the speaker ease into the room closing the door quietly.

"Lane, come on. I know you can hear me."

Letting the man move further into the room, Rueben slipped from his position, moving through the dark shadows like a phantom. Coming up behind the speaker, Rueben cinched an arm around his throat, clamping a hand over his mouth.

"Noah Rivers," his tone was deadly cold. "I seem to recall telling you what would happen if you did not keep your mouth shut." His grip tightened. "Prescott knew I was alive. He was expecting me. I'm disappointed in you."

"Mmph," Noah struggled a little, trying to breathe and talk, but the punishing hold on his throat was too tight. "Essth..."

Knowing his time was limited but angry, Ruben fought with himself over whether to kill the boy or not. What was one more body in his wake? Straining muscles trembling, he finally let Noah go with a firm shove.

"If you move an inch, I'll kill you. Make no mistake, boy. I have no kindness toward you."

"My fault..." Noah rasped the words, coughing. "I didn't want to tell but I was afraid of what they'd do. What Prescott would do if I tried lying."

"You should be more afraid of me." Noah scrambled backwards, knocking over a lamp as Rueben took a menacing step forward. "You brought him the whip."

"He would've used it on me if I hadn't."

"Cowardice is no excuse."

"I'm not a coward!"

"Then give me your hand. I told you what would happen if you betrayed me." Rueben held his out expectantly, watching a myriad of emotions flood across the younger man's features. Finally, with a shaky exhale, Noah moved forward and put his hand in Rueben's, bracing for the pain of snapping bones.

"Don't ever forget this moment, Noah."

"I won't."

"Quinton Prescott is dead." The quiet statement was met with stunned shock as Rueben dropped his hand. "And you just took a step out of his shadow."

"Dead! When?"

"A few days ago. Port Jackson."

"Are you sure?"

"I killed him."

"Then what are you... oh." Slowly nodding, Noah raised his hands in peace. "The money."

"If you know, telling me will go a long way toward you living through the night."

"The safe is there," he pointed to where Rueben had seen the door. "I don't have the key."

"Then you'll help me get it open."

"I will." His tone made Rueben look at him. "I never realized what I was becoming, who I was working for before I met you. It opened my eyes. I want out. I was packing my things when I saw you ride up. My parents didn't raise me to be like Prescott. They... well, I think they wanted me to turn out more like you."

"Be your own man, Noah Rivers. Don't be like me."

Silence enveloped them briefly until Noah shifted clearing his throat.

"You don't have much time," he indicated the door. "They'll realize you're here."

"Who's left?"

"Half a dozen men. Most are in the bunkhouse waiting for Prescott's orders, but they make regular sweeps through the house and property."

"Then you have a choice to make."

Noah grinned.

"Already made it."

It didn't take them long to pry the safe door open. Stacks of crisp paper money greeted them, along with sacks of gold coins. They took it all. Noah refused a share, but Rueben made him take a bundle of paper money, along with a warning.

"Get out of this country, Noah. Or you'll be more like me than you want."

"Godspeed, Rueben Lane." They parted ways at the door.

Loud musket fire erupted from outside along with wild yells as the presence of intruders was discovered. Lead balls blasted into the wood front porch, the stockmen shouting to one another. Rueben knew Jim was outnumbered, and if they weren't away soon it'd be too late.

Scooping up the bags he took off on silent feet, making his way to the back door. Jim should be waiting there with the horses. A moving shadow whipped him around, heart jackhammering. The old Aborigine man stood there, his white hair uncombed, his shirt open. The woman stood behind him. Both were silent.

"Prescott's dead." He told him quietly. "If you want to leave this place, go now."

For a long moment, the two men studied each other, then the native tipped his head in a brief, silent nod. Taking a deep breath, Rueben nodded back.

Wilkins met him at the back door, his wary gaze on the bunkhouse.

"What took so long?"

"I stopped off for a drink."

"You bloody-" they both ducked as the wooden rails in front of them exploded. "Come on!"

They ran for their horses, landing in the saddles and whirling their mounts around in the same motion. Kicking his heels Rueben urged the roan to run and the gelding responded with a powerful leap, sending dust flying from under his hooves as he raced away. Wilkins was behind him, the loud bark of muskets bellowing in the night.

A dark form rose ahead of them, moonlight glinting off steel. Reacting instantly, Rueben swung Indigo away, ducking as something hot whistled past his ear. Another sharp bark came from behind them, then they were away.

Soon, the only noise became the thunder of hooves as they kept up their flight into the darkness. As soon as they realized there wasn't immediate danger of being caught, Rueben slowed the gelding's pace to a walk, half turning to look back.

"That'll put a bee in their bonnet, Jim."

"Yeah..." the young man was leaning heavily sideways. "If they didn't hate you before..."

Rueben leaped off his mount as Jim slid from the saddle, hitting the ground. He didn't have to be told what happened. Even in the midnight darkness, the younger man's face was ghostly pale, sweat glistening on his brow and upper lip. Gently pulling away his vest, Rueben grit his jaw, seeing the large crimson stain soaking through Wilkins' shirt. A kill shot that had not yet extinguished the light behind Jim's eyes.

"How bad...?"

"Just a scratch."

"Hurts a bit for..." Coughing suddenly, Jim half rolled over, grimacing in pain.

"Easy, Jim," shifting him to lay more comfortably, Rueben cradled Wilkins' head in his lap. "Just breathe."

"I'm dying, aren't I,"

"No."

"Can't believe," coughing again, Jim cried out, clutching his chest. "You shouldn't lie to a dying man. It's a sin."

"Then don't die."

"You have an answer for everything."

"Not this time."

"I wouldn't change anything, Rueben ..." Sighing, his voice faded as his strength left him. "I threw my lot in with you, no regrets..."

"I finally get what I owe you, at great personal risk I remind you, and now you won't spend a penny. That's gratitude for you," Keeping his voice low and friendly, Rueben blinked fast to keep his eyes dry. Wilkins deserved a better end than this.

"You can have my share..." he shook his head slightly before Rueben could protest. "The army will turn the country upside down looking for you. Take the money and run...get out while you can..."

He gripped Rueben's forearm with surprising strength, earnestly staring up at him.

"Don't do anything stupid, Rueben Lane. You got a chance to start over. Go. Live a new life. Live it for me, and Mat..."

Grimly looking down at Jim's slack features, Rueben felt the too-familiar cut of sorrow. Jim Wilkins was young and should have had a full life ahead of him. Marriage, children, then dying an old man at home, warm and surrounded by loved ones. Not here, not out in the middle of nowhere with the man who murdered his brother.

"Rest in peace my friend," he muttered softly "When you see him, tell Matt I'm sorry."

Despite the very real possibility of pursuit, he took time to dig a grave in the loose, sandy soil. Piling large stones over it ensured scavengers could not dig him up. Scouring around, he found a large boulder with a wide, flat side. Getting out a sharp blade, he carefully carved 'J. Wilkins' into the stone, then laid it at the head of the grave. Gently catching Jim's horse, he led it to where Indigo stood waiting. With one last glance at the grave, he headed west.

He ate and slept in the saddle, exchanging mounts regularly to spellthem as he pushed into the Australian wilderness. Riding for days without stopping, he finally saw the landmarks Harmony had indicated on her dust drawing. Unsure how to feel, relieved, excited, and ashamed, he turned the horses toward them, trying to work up what he would say. How could he apologize for being gone so long?