"Hehe, so you filled 'im with lead, huh Plaga?" the gravely voice grated out from behind the boards Micah was pressed against.

"Sí," the deep voice of the Mexican droned. "Just as Trent asked."

A dry, harsh cackle met Micah's ears. "You never told me the details."

"What is there to say, Trick? I waited, he showed, I shot. Hit him right in the chest."

"And took his horse," Trick added. He gave a low whistle. "That thing's pretty as can be, but meaner than a rattler."

"Sí, but even rattlers can be dealt with."

Micah shivered. His eyes flickered just beyond the wall to to the round pen where Raven was running in circles. No one could get near him, and Micah knew it was only a matter of time before they resulted to other methods to reach the stallion. He closed his eyes, careful not to breathe too deep for fear he'd cause a board to creak. Who knew the very people he worked for were the ones who'd killed his friend?

"Did ya leave his body?"

"No," came the clipped reply.

A surge of hope welled up in Micah's chest. If he didn't leave Jason's body. . . .

"Then how in tarnation did they find him dead?"

Plaga gave an evil laugh. "Remember the hombre on the trail from Dusty Hollow?"

"The one you shot?" Trick asked, the confusion evident in his tone.

"Sí. The Archer was not dead, so I put his shirt on the other man, along with the note from his mujer."

A cynical chuckle greeted Plaga's words. "Lemme guess, you dumped Archer's body somewhere no one would find him."

"Sí. Just in case he should survive longer than the wound would allow."

Trick slapped Plaga on the back with glee. "Smart move, amigo. You Mexicans are more savvy than we give you credit for."

Micah recoiled from his eavesdropping position. He couldn't stand to listen to anymore. He'd heard enough to know the truth. Despite knowing they'd found the body of another man, it didn't change the fact that Jason was dead. It had been a week since that terrible day, and the hurt still stung like a fresh cut. His emotions were fighting for top position in his mind. Fear snaked it's way to the forefront and trumped them all.

He was surrounded by murderers. What a jolly thought! The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? the Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid? Micah reminded himself, the words settling over his heart like a blanket. God would never leave him, nor forsake him.

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death," Micah recited, strolling confidently to the pen. He stopped, resting his hands on the rough wood. "I will fear no evil: for thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me." He heaved himself over the fencing, confident God would make a way where there seemed to be no way.

Raven paused in his fearful rampaging, quivering in the middle of the pen, his body lathered with sweat. His nostrils flared, accepting every ounce of air he could breathe in. His eyes were wild as he stared at Micah, flicking his ears at every little sound.

Micah winged a prayer heavenward. He inched toward Raven as slow as the current circumstances would allow, clicking his tongue softly. He grabbed the reins and jumped astride Raven's broad back fully expecting chaos. It never came.

Without warning, Raven took off in a gallop--straight for the side of the fence.

Micah squeezed his eyes closed as they sailed through the air and over the top board of the fence with room to spare. They landed with a shuddering jolt before thundering down the road to the yells of a handful of cowpunchers.

Micah leaned close to Raven as a bullet whizzed by his head like an angry lead bee. Inwardly, he was praying fervently, outwardly he gave Raven's neck a pat as they streaked down the dusty road and whispered in the stallion's ear, "Come on, boy! We're gonna make it."

Micah wondered at the speed and agility of the shimmery beast beneath him. He could feel the power of the stallion with every pounding hoofbeat. The horse was truly a prized mount, with a beauty unlike any Micah had ever seen. He only hoped he could get this magnificent creature out of this nightmare in one piece.

The race to the sheriff's office was a blur of dust and dodging bullets, and Micah didn't allow Raven to stop good before he bailed off, charged up the steps, and stormed through the door.

"Good heavens above!" Sheriff Reeves exclaimed as he stared at Micah, who was as pale as he was out of breath. He glanced at the four men standing behind him, his face reflecting their confusion "What's the matter?"

"They're. . . they're comin'," Micah breathed out.

Those words had hardly left Micah's tongue when the door burst open and hit the wall with a bang. Three cowpunchers filed in, pistols in hand. Their angry expressions sobered quickly as they looked down the barrels of four rifles.

"I suggest y'all stop right where you are," Reeves warned cooly, spinning the cylinder of his revolver. He motioned at the ground with his weapon. "Drop your guns."

The harsh, metallic clank of metal against wood rang out in the tense silence as the men dropped their guns as commanded.

Reeves scrutinized them through narrowed eyes. He stepped up to the middle man. "Jeb, Hezekiah. Search the other two."

As the they searched the men at gunpoint, the scrawniest of the bunch took off out the door.

Jeb took one look at Reeves before running after him. When he jumped off the porch, the runaway was on his horse and galloping off. Jeb leveled his rifle, aiming down the barrel. With a release of air, he squeezed the trigger.

The man fell from the saddle at the report of the rifle, hitting the ground with force. The horse ran a few more feet before halting.

Jeb dipped his head at the people lining the street before heading back inside where the last two men were cramped in the jail cell, their pistols and knives put away out of reach.

Reeves was standing at the desk, arms akimbo, as he stroked his mustache. His flinty gaze raked over Jeb. "Got 'im?"

Jeb nodded. "Yes, sir. Don't gotta worry about that coward no more."

Reeves nodded. He turned his focus on Micah. "Mind tellin' me why these coots were after you?"

Micah took a deep breath. "I know who killed Jason."

A hush fell over the room, thick and oppressive like an unwanted fog.

Reeves closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, they were void of the emotion that glittered in them only seconds before. "Tell me everythin' you know, son. Leave nothin' out."

Micah looked at his boots before meeting Reeves' blank stare. He began with going to work, relating his eavesdropping and freeing Raven. "Then I rushed here. They were shootin' at me, but thankfully we didn't get hit. That's when I came in here."

Reeves took in the information like a sponge. He pivoted on his heel, his boots plodding on the wooden floor. He stopped in front of the bars of the cell. "Is Trent at the Lazy M?"

The man with blonde hair shrugged. "Maybe he is, maybe he isn't. That's none of your business."

"Oh, it's every bit my business," Reeves said in a dangerously low voice, his revolver pointed between the man's blue eyes. "You either tell me, or I'll blow your brains out right here in front of God and everybody. What'll it be, Dean?"

Dean swallowed so hard it was audible. His eyes flickered between Reeves and the revolver. It didn't take him long to make up his mind. "He's there."

"Now, that wasn't so hard was it?" Reeves asked, holstering the gun. He turned from the cell and walked to his desk, opening a drawer and pulling out another pistol. He handed it to Micah butt-first. "You know how to use this, kid?"

"Yes, sir." Micah accepted the weapon.

Reeves nodded, clamping a hand on Micah's shoulder. "Good. I want you to sit in my chair and watch 'em. If they give you any indication they're trying to escape, or if they say one hateful word to you, shoot 'em."

"Yes, sir." Micah frowned. He looked at the gun, then at the sheriff. "Where are you goin'?"

"To arrest Trent, the cowpunchers at the Lazy M, and Plaga," Reeves replied, strolling past Micah with the four men following his lead. "Remember what I said, now."

"I will," Micah assured. "I'll be prayin' for y'all."

Reeves gave the boy a smile, his eyes sober and bright. "You do that. I'm sure we'll need it."

Micah returned the smile with more cheer than he felt as he settled into the sheriff's chair. "You can count on me."

Micah waited for the posse's return for what seemed an eternity, the gun in his hand trained on the two dusty men in the cell. The drum of hoofbeats thundering outside had Micah sliding the pistol onto the desk and scurrying to the door. He threw it open to the sight of Sheriff Reeves and the Barns Brothers. A line of six men strung together with a length of rope stumbled behind Reeves' horse, a few of them bloody and among them, Trent. He glared at Micah, his hair messy and dark and his wrinkled clothes seemed as if they'd been thrown on hastily. Tall, lithe, and in his early thirties, Trent was a hit among the painted ladies in town, and the object of the married women's dreams.

"Them crooks in there give you any trouble, Micah?" Reeves asked, slipping from the saddle and tugging on the rope of men.

"No, sir," Micah answered quickly. "Never uttered a peep. How'd the arrests go?"

Reeves gave the rope another jerk, sending Trent to his knees. "Fairly well. We took Trent here by surprise. Had to get him dressed."

Hezekiah shook his head. "Tweren't a pretty sight."

"It sure wasn't," Reeves agreed heartily. He glanced between the Barns Brothers and Micah. "Say, Micah, I don't believe I ever introduced my pals here."

"You didn't, but think nothin' of it, Jack. I'll take care of it." Jeb grinned with a small shrug. "I'm Jeb Barns. These are my brothers Jake, Josh, and Hezekiah."

Jake grinned, his black hair gleaming and dark eyes flashing. "Howdy."

Josh gave a small smile, his keen eyes taking Micah in. He looked almost exactly like Jeb and Jake. "It's a pleasure."

Hezekiah just peered at Micah with the ghost of a smile. His deep brown eyes were more expressive than his face.

Micah looked at each of them in turn. "Y'all look like a buncha capable men."

Reeves grinned. "Oh, they are. They're such capable folks that we got a full confession outta Trent."

"Really?" Micah stared down at Trent. His hazel eyes glittered with such hate and anger it gave Micah chills. Dried blood covered his swollen nose and lower half of his face. A muscle fluttered along his strong jawline, thoroughly expressing his rage.

"Really. He was actin' on the orders given to him by his older brother, Thomas. They're in cahoots on buyin' up all the land around Abilene, and gettin' rid of anyone who thinks they shouldn't."

Micah jerked his gaze from his former boss. "Put up much of a fight?"

"Not too terribly. Reckon the call girl is what kept his fight in check." Reeves shook his head, gesturing toward the stalwart Mexican with eyes as dark and cold as midnight in the dead of winter. "But this guy put up one haybale of a fight."

"Did he ever." Josh rolled his eyes with a huff. It was then Micah realized he sported a black eye and a busted lip. "We were lucky--no, blessed--that lead wasn't slung."

Jake flicked a fly off his shirt. "Ain't that the truth! It could've been real ugly."

"It could've, but thank God it wasn't," Reeves agreed. He pulled Trent to his feet. "Let's get these goons into the cell."

"All of them?" Hezekiah questioned with a raised brow. "I don't know if they'll fit."

"Oh, they'll fit. I'll make sure of that." Reeves tugged the men up the steps and through the door. He took a glance at the two men in the single cell, at the six tied in line behind him. He opened the cell with a warning look at those inside. "Better not test your luck. Jeb, untie Plaga. Him and my boy here are gonna stay out with me," he ordered, untying the rope that bound Trent's wrist.

"Yes, sir!" Jeb acknowledged, roughly freeing the stocky Mexican and pressing his revolver into the back of the man's skull. He leaned close, hissing in his ear, "Don't try nothin' funny. I'd be much obliged to pull the trigger."

Reeves sent the four remaining cowpunchers sprawling into the cell one-by-one. He slid the door closed and locked it, taking the extra precaution of barring it. He kept a firm grip on Trent as he sat the younger man down on the floor. Accepting a smaller rope from Josh, he tied Trent's arms behind his back. He gazed to the killer, not even flinching at the look of unsuppressed hatred on the man's weathered face. "Hez, tie him up real good. Watch him, though. He might lash out."

"He better not if he knows what's good for him," Jeb growled out, pressing the barrel of his pistol more firmly against Plaga's head.

Despite the threat, the Mexican chuckled as he held out his arms.

Hezekiah tied his wrists together tightly, checking to be sure there was no way to escape. He raised an eyebrow. "Somethin' funny, cara de puerco? Don't reckon a man in your current predicament should find anythin' amusin'."

"My name is Plaga, not cara de puerco." He smirked, tilting his head back at Jeb. "It's the man's empty threats that amuse me."

"A word to the wise," Jeb said between clenched teeth, the bone chilling click of his revolver as he pulled back the hammer filled the air. "My threats are everythin' but empty."

Plaga stared at Jeb stone-faced as he walked into view, the gleaming barrel of the pistol in his face.

"I have the notion to shoot you right here--" Jeb tapped the barrel on Plaga's chest-- "just like you did Jason. I wanna watch you bleed out and beg to be finished. But guess what?" he leaned close, his face mere inches from Plaga's. "I'm not. I wanna see you hanged."

Plaga scowled, mumbling a stream of rapid-fire curses in Spanish. He punctuated his words by spitting into Jeb's face, his stained teeth bared in a grin.

Jeb wiped the grin right off Plaga's face with the pistol, snapping Plaga's head back. He ran his arm across his own face, smearing away the the spit.

"Watch that gun of yours," Josh cautioned, placing his hand on his brother's shoulder.

Jeb looked down at the pistol, thankful it hadn't discharged in his rage. He blew out a long sigh. "I'll be outside."

As the door closed softly behind Jeb, Reeves sealed an envelope. He looked between Josh, Jake, and Hezekiah. "Any of you boys free to go to Abilene and deliver this to Jedidiah? I've got to send a wire to the sheriff in Dusty Hollow."

Jake rubbed the back of his head. "Not really, but I'm sure we can arrange somethin'."

Micah straightened, reaching out for the envelope. "I'll do it."

Reeves let Micah take it, a look of uncertainty wrinkling his forehead. "I'm not sure that's the best idea."

"It is. I wanna do it," Micah insisted. "Besides, I'm sure Jason's family would want his horse back."

"The kid's right," Josh pointed out, glancing between the boy and the sheriff.

"Fine," Reeves relented after a moment. He peered down into Micah's wide, expressive eyes. "Take my other horse as well. Do me a favor, and be careful."

Micah beamed at the sheriff on his way outside. "I will."

***

The shadow of the scraggly tree offered little reprieve from the relentless scorching waves of the high noon sun.

"We're gonna make it," Micah said reassuringly, rubbing Raven's muzzle. He scratched the sheriff's horse behind its ears. He knew if they rested for too much longer, it'd throw their pace off, but he didn't want to push the horses too hard. Especially Raven. He had every reason to take it slow.

A low rumble from behind had Micah turning. He covered his face with a hand, a flicker of fear coursing through his body.

A band of five spotted horses with red and blue war paint were speeding his way. In the middle of them all, on a beautiful stallion, sat a rider in a buckskin vest and pants.

Micah eased the pistol from the holster concealed in the saddle. He didn't know if the person approaching was Indian or not, or even if they were friendly. But he'd find out soon enough.

The rider slowed all the horses within walking distance of Micah and dismounted, giving the horses a command in some native language. He looked at Micah, his pale, icy blue eyes looked haunted, yet held an edge of pain, and even happiness. A thin pink scar ran along his cheekbone, and his lips were curved in a slight smile. His brown hair was kinky and speckled with dust, but it was the eyes and smile that told it all. "Gonna say hi, Micah?"

***

The whisper of wind through the trees brought little comfort to Dixie's heart as she walked through the scratchy grass. It had been a week since Jason was found dead, but she felt as if it happened yesterday. Silent tears streaked her face, evidence of her pain. What would she do, now that he was gone? She didn't want to live without him, yet somehow she had to.

She mentally kicked herself. He wouldn't want her to give up on life; he would want her to move on and be happy. But how could she, when the one who made her days so bright and full of life was in an unmarked grave somewhere in Dry Gulch, the victim of a murderer who may never be found? Nevertheless, she would try her best to do what he would want. One question poked its head up from the murkiness of her mind: Would she ever love again?

She shook her head. It wouldn't matter if she didn't, she tried to tell herself even though she knew better. No matter how hard she tried, she could never imagine herself with anyone other than Jason. And that wasn't about to happen, not in this life. She was sure when Jedidiah brought the news that everyone around had heard her heart shatter, its pieces scattering into the depths of her grief. She could still feel its dull, throbbing ache, and had come to live with it. Oh, God help me.

Dixie hadn't realized just how fierce her tears had been falling until she put her hand on her chest, her fingers touching the damp cloth of her dress. Beneath her hand, her heart thrummed steady and sure. She closed her eyes, letting the rythmic pulse pound through her hand. The Lord giveth, and taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.

The wind picked up, and a handful of dark clouds scattered across the otherwise clear sky. The rain started as one drop, then another, before it transformed into a full-on down pour.

Dixie opened her eyes to look at the sky. The sun was shining brightly as usual, but it was raining. Maybe God was sharing her heartbreak. She turned, intent on retracing her steps back to town, but collided with a solid chest.

Strong arms enfolded Dixie, holding her up. Those all-too-familiar forest green eyes, like rippling twin pools, stared at her with concern. "It's alright. I got you."

"Nathaniel. . . ." Dixie breathed out. She shouldn't be surprised since he'd came to see her nearly every day after the finding out of Jason's murder, but she was. She stared into his handsome face, and the corner of his mouth puckered up in a tiny half-smile, the waning rain dusting his hair with tiny gleaming droplets.

He reached up and smeared away her tears. "If you'd told me, I'd have come with you so you wouldn't be alone."

She shut her eyes for a second, inhaling his slightly comforting scent. At one time in her life, she'd grown to love Nathaniel. But things changed, and she knew with all her being her heart belonged to Jason. Yet, in all her inner turmoil, Nathaniel's presence brought much needed strength. That was something she didn't understand, nor wanted to dig into. She inhaled deeply. "I know."

"I'll be here for you, Dixie. From now, until the end of my life." He bent close, pressing his lips tenderly against hers.

Dixie didn't fight him. She wasn't going to stop the kiss, but she wasn't going to respond to it either. She didn't have it in her. If only she could trade Nathaniel for Jason.

When Nathaniel straightened, a wild fire of emotion raged in his eyes. "I meant what I said. I'm gonna do everything I can to fix what I've broken between us. Maybe one day you will look at me with love. Until then, I have my work cut out for me. I won't stop until I have your heart."

"Good luck tryna find all the pieces," Dixie said softly, stepping out of his arms. She walked past him, her emotions boiling and sputtering within her like a volcano on the edge of exploding. She was too tired for this. She felt ill, and her head pounded menacingly. She attributed feeling bad to the fact that she hadn't ate enough feed a bird for the past few days. Slowing her pace, she reached up to rub her head, dizziness suddenly washing over her. Nathaniel's worried face as he caught her before she hit the ground was the last thing she saw before her vision went black.