"Oh-h-h-h!" They knew he was awake. After the large part of a day, he tried to move but just groaned instead. His eyes reluctantly opened.

"Easy, John Christopher."

"John Christopher? Doc? Not a real warm welcome, was it?"

"Only you'd have the brass to walk back into two murder charges like you were on a little Sunday stroll."

"How you been, Doc?" Talking made him cough; the cough sent agony to his rib cage and chest.

"Real fine. Lots better than you. Must say those stitches I put in seem to have done real good. Not too much of a scar. But, boy, nobody just ever seems to want to beat me to a pulp like they're want to do to you. Don't try to keep up this small talk, now, you need rest."

"What'd I get blessed with this time?"

"Smashed head, reinjured the old ribs, broke a couple of new ones on the other side, and one of those nicked your lung. Just a small place, though. It's been patched. You did a mighty fine job of starting trouble, just like old times. Need anything?" The words were hard, but the voice was gentle and friendly. Chris was not afraid of him.

"Water. And another chance at that son-of-a-bitch when I know he's coming and my ribs are good and ready."

"Hard-headed, glutton for punishment. You'll never change." He spooned water through his lips, water laced heavily with laudanum.

"Didn't need to change so all fired much in the first place."

"I know. Sleep. We'll reminisce later." The doctor turned away from the patient when he was certain the drug had taken hold. The woman standing so close to his side had a face that was so like that of Ester Larabee, he thought the dead one had come back to protect her child again. Looking closer, he realized this very alive woman wasn't that much like Ester at all, but her concern for John Christopher made her seem to be.

"Is he going to be okay."

"Yes, ma'am. He'll be up a bit in a few days. He'll be sore for a good long while, but able to get around. Gonna have to keep him from moving too much while that lung heals, and we need to keep him warm so he doesn't get pneumonia. Damage to that lung could cause trouble real fast, if we're not careful."

"How do you come to know Chris?"

"Chris?"

"That's what he uses now. Said John Christopher was dead with his Pa."

"I don't doubt it. He still mad at John?"

"He didn't seem mad at John, not since I've known him. He's more just hurt and mad at himself. He feels guilty, feels he doesn't deserve anything, especially since he wasn't there to protect them."

"That's the boy I knew."

"You didn't tell me how you know him?"

"Oh, yeah, Chris...that suites him. He and I go way back. Guess I fixed his first broken arm when he was about five. Tried to fly off the roof of the house. Next was a broken leg, a year or so later, falling off a horse his father told him to leave alone. He was always trying stuff, didn't care one bit about the odds of getting hurt. Didn't carry on when I patched him up. Darndest thing was the time he got into something in the barn that made him sick. My Lord, that boy heaved for days. I sure did hate the times I had to patch him up when I knew it wasn't anything he'd done that caused it."

"He was beaten? He said it was just one time...that last day."

"Couple at the last were sure enough beatings, but the whippings were more frequent. Lots of times John got carried away...mostly bruises and small cuts. Beatings came at the end, two in the last couple months, maybe two earlier ones between when Mitch left and Chris started taking punishment. Ester said he took a lot more small whippings between the big blowups. I'd see him around town, and I could always tell when he was hurting or sad. That's a part of his business he never talked to anybody about. At least he didn't have to take em when he was real young. Frank and Mitch, his brothers, got to take those honors early on. Ester sort of tried to protect him. She couldn't, probably wouldn't, stop it, but she would bring the boy in real quiet, just to be sure he was okay. She never let John know that I suspected who had hurt him. This boy would just be crushed...he loved his Pa...but he hated the whippings. When it got worse there at the end, he hated being hit even more because he never seemed to know why he had to take it. I'm just glad to see he survived. When he left, as badly hurt as he was, I wondered if he would. Now, I've told you how I know him, but do I know you?"

"No, my names Martha Collins."

"Oh, you're the wife of that sheriff from Patomka, one of the ones who rode in with him." He grinned as he remember how he'd seen her before. "Delighted to meet you, ma'am. You're the little hell-cat that gave Carter that nice kick in the balls. Excuse me, but I can't think of anyone I'd rather see get that kind of comeuppance."

She blushed, "He shouldn't have hurt him. The boy was so much happier, it was cruel to rob him of it so quick."

"Where'd he find all of you?"

"Just rode in one day, nearly dead. My husband's got a good eye for strays."

"Kid deserved a break. Glad you were both there."

"You don't think he did this either, do you?"

"Never did. Boy was full of mischief, but most folks just laughed about what he'd do...like falling off that horse or sneaking around for target practice like he was a real desperado when he couldn't hit a barn at ten feet. His Pa was the one who drove him to change all the time. Never knew why. John Larabee was no saint when we were growing up."

"Can you tell me about a man name Rupert Comstock. He won't tell me much about him, but it's obvious he doesn't trust him and thinks he may have not had his best interest at heart."

"Rupert? That's Ester's sister's husband. Not a bad man. Got one boy, Jesse, who turned out to be a bigger hell-raiser than this boy ever was. Rupert runs his and John's family farms now. Keeps things moving for Elizabeth and Hobart...that's Chris' sister, most call her Lizzie, and Hobart's her less than useless husband. Rupert does a fair job, but the farm's not nearly as productive as it was when John and Chris worked it together. Still, he's a good man."

"We'll just see about that. I'd best go. I told Ethan I wouldn't stay over here that long. Still, he knows me well enough to know "a long time" means a great many things."

"I'd best get back to the sheriff's office, too. Carter's nursing some sore ribs of his own. Made him wait a while. I think he deserves the pleasure. Come on, I'll walk you to the hotel."

Chapter 24

When he woke again, he was in the care of the Judge. The man sat in a chair beside him, with his hands feeling as gently as possible past the bandages on his sides to the ribs below. The checking had brought him to. He would much rather have been out cold. "Oh-h-h-h. Damn!"

"Welcome back. Thought you might decide coming to wasn't worth the effort."

"Just about."

"Thought I'd just take a few minutes and help Mort out. He needed to go deliver a baby, of all things, Asked me to check on how you're doing." He reached into a bowl near his hand and wrung out a rag that he used to bathed his brow. "There's fever here, but I think you're getting better already."

"I thought you were a Judge. Oh-h-h!"

He smiled, continuing to probe the stitches and bandages. "Well, before I was a judge, I was a lawman. Lawdogs gets plenty of opportunities to care for gunshots and beat up prisoners. Some of them deserved what they got, some didn't, but I took care of them best I could. Sorry about what happened to you the other day."

"Other day? How long have I been here?"

"Two days, maybe a little more."

"Did anyone else get hurt?"

"Nobody but you and Masters."

"Masters? I didn't even hit him."

"Maybe you didn't, but that gang of yours sure took him on. That woman's a spit-fire. Masters might take on that one named Ethan again, but I bet he avoids that woman."

He tried to sit up. "Damn, I was supposed to be in your office yesterday! Oh-h-h-h!"

"Don't do that." The judge eased him back on the bed. "Doesn't matter so much if it's in my office or here. I talked to your friends awhile ago, so we could go over your case."

"Case?"

"You up to discussing it?"

"Yes, sir."

"First lie you've told me."

"I'll try to be up to it."

"That's more like it. Well, there's going to have to be a trial."

It scared him. "Who'll prosecute?"

"Nobody."

"Huh?"

"I've decided on a bench trial. I can't be sure, especially after yesterday, that I can trust the sheriff to put together a fair and impartial jury, and he sure can't be an honorable prosecutor. He will get his turn to speak at the trial, but your friends and any town folks who want a turn will get to have their say as well. At the end, I'll decide whether you're guilty or innocent"

That scared him more. His fate was in the hands of just one man. Could he trust him? "How long's it gonna take."

"I'm not calling it until after mid-week next week. I'll change it if you're not up to it yet. Anyway, whenever we start it, I expect it'll be over in just a few hours."

"If I'm found guilty?"

"Don't think about that yet. You just think about getting well. I want you to take this last bit of laudanum Mort left for you. It'll let you sleep one more time without so much pain."

"Get well so I can hang...sort of ironic."

"Things don't always go that bad, do they?"

"Judge, if you're me, you're used to things going slam to hell in real short order."

Chapter 25

He woke the third time, groggy from the laudanum, with no one at his side. Instead, a tall woman, erect and stiff-backed, stood at the window, looking out across the main street. She was dressed in homespun, a dress void of decoration. Her hair, brown streaked lightly with gray, was tied in a severe bun, with no ornamentation for softening. He stared at her in his confusion, knowing that he knew her somehow...but not quite sure how he knew her. He raised his shoulders to try for a better look. It was a bad idea. "Damn."

Elizabeth turned to face him. She was almost the same as he remembered. Married life had marked her more than he remembered. She had added a little weight, though she was far from fat. Small lines touched her face. The part he remembered most was her harsh, accusing voice, as she wasted no kind words on the brother she despised. "I see you're still the same. You won't stop making trouble, even when you're already in all the trouble in the world. Why did you come back here? If you were a decent man, you would have spared me the embarrassment of your crimes and at least stayed away from here for good."

"Well, nice to see you too, Lizzie. Good old Rulebook. Still trying to make everybody dance your tune." Their well-established animosity hadn't diminished one bit, even with him gone for more than a year.

"If you think you're going to make more trouble for my family here, you'd better think again. Carter will see that you don't, and Rupert's ready to tell all he knows. As for me, I want you gone."

"Opinion noted. Your family? My family too, and I don't think you mean you just want me out of town, either. Do you? Can't say I thought things would be any better between us, just hoped a little."

"How soon can you leave? Rupert and Carter are watching you and those mischief-makers you brought with you."

"Don't know that I plan to go anywhere, one way or the other. If I'm found innocent, I'll probably stay just to make you happy. If they hang me, I'll leave word for Mitch to bury me by Ma and Pa. You'll at least visit every once in a while."

"Rupert won't allow it. I'll see to that!"

"Rupert's told his lies about me for long enough. I've had enough of that son-of-a-bitch. I think I might just have a chance to get my side heard for a change. Masters? That piece of dirt showed the whole town what he's made of a couple of days ago. He'll make a great witness for the defense now. I'm not leaving, Lizzie...not unless you win, and I get sent off with a rope-burned neck in a dark pine box. Look, you never did like me...I can't say I ever liked you a whole lot, either. But Lizzie, why would you think I killed em? What did I ever do to deserve that from you?"

"Oh, you're innocent. You never did anything." She approached him with hatred in her gaze. So much hatred startled him.

"Hell, Rulebook, I did plenty. I was a little hell-raiser. Morning, noon, and night, I was into something. I'll give you that all you want. But how do you make the jump from me being a wise-ass kid to me being a stone-cold killer. Did you see the house? Did you ever look at what was done? Well, I did...and Margie did. How could I have done that to anyone I loved. And I loved them both, you can't even begin to doubt that. I'm tired of telling you that I didn't do it. You're just too cold hearted to hear anything but your own damn rules and opinions. The trouble is, your opinions don't mean nothing to anybody but you and maybe those two idiots Rupert and Carter."

She yelled at him. "We'll just see about that. You were always the problem one, always bringing in embarrassment or disgrace, but no matter how much I tried, you were always her favorite."

"Is that what this is about? Damn, Lizzie...I'm facing a hanging because you wanted Ma to love you better? She loved you. She loved all of us."

"But she protected you."

"Naw. Shoot, I took too much wear on my backside for her to have been protecting me. She just got me patched up when he was through with the worst. Hell, Lizzie, at least when she was mad at you, she never beat you near to death. Pa hit me ever chance he got. Wasn't that way when I was small. I never did understand what made him change about me."

"Poor, misunderstood baby." It was a bitter sneer. "What you couldn't understand you had to kill."

"I didn't kill them. I DID NOT KILL THEM! Can't you ever see reason?" He was yelling at her too. He lay back, gasping for air. "Where's Margie."

"You think you're going to come back here and turn Margie back into the little hellion you left her to be? Think again. Margaret...Margaret, mind you...is mine. She's growing up to be a real proper young lady, in spite of you."

"Where is she?"

"She's at home, for now. I'm sending her to Hobart's aunt's home in about an hour. She doesn't need to learn about this. It wouldn't be proper."

"Learn about this...she doesn't know I'm here?"

"No. She doesn't know now, and she never will. After a while, I'll let her know that you were hung for killing Ma and Pa. That will be the end of that, and of you."

He couldn't believe, even now, that she hated him that much. His one thought was to set her straight. "But I didn't do it, and I can prove it, Lizzie. I can prove it now. I didn't do it. I killed the man who did."

"So you've killed more than them. How many so far? Why am I not surprised. Pa knew who you were going to be. Uncle Rupert could see it too."

"Rupert. What about Rupert. How'd you get mixed in with Rupert over me?"

"I told him about you. He was the only one who would listen for the longest time. Pa didn't want to hear it...he thought you were his infallible son. Well, Rupert saw it my way after I told him about your visits with Becky Taylor, your guns, your liquor, the trouble you raised at school, how little you showed respect to any of your elders. He felt you were a bad seed, and he wanted to protect Pa. After awhile, Pa finally had to see it was the truth. He tried to straighten you out, but you were always fighting what he told you to do. But, even though it was Pa who hurt you, you had to kill Ma, too. I'll never forgive you...and you'll never see Margaret again."

"You bitch!" He snarled at her.

She slapped him. She slapped him twice.

Coming out of the shadows, Martha slapped her in return, preventing her from any further damage. He hadn't realized anyone else was in the room, much less listening to the fight.

"How dare you. He's fought his way back to you and your family. He's innocent just like he says he is, and we know it to be true. We've seen the proof. How dare you withhold the one person he needs right now and make his life a never-ending hell."

"Martha, don't. You can't stop her. She's got Margie. You don't understand."

"That's right. She's mine."

"Don't you believe I can't stop you. We're going to see Judge Putnam, and I'm sending Mort to check this one over." She firmly grasped Elizabeth's arm in her steel-like fingers. The last he saw of them, Martha was half pushing, half dragging his sister out the door.

Chapter 26

There was no real harm from Lizzie's attack, just one long, unyielding headache. The mental anguish was different. The three men who had ridden in with him had now ridden to try to find Margie before Lizzie could carry out her threat. They rode back in late the same evening, empty handed.

"Can't find her? She's supposed to be headed for Hobart's aunt's house. How hard can that be?"

"Hard enough. She didn't put her on the stage here, but she could have put her on just about anywhere. Could have sent her with somebody else. No way to tell. I'm sorry. I didn't think she'd do something like that." The woman was downcast. "She pulled such a pitiful story at the Judge's office, all he got out of her was a promise to bring Margaret to see you today."

"So she's gone...she's got her. Lizzie was always a fine liar...she could lie with the best of em and never get caught. Call me the bad seed? Shoot. After I was twelve or so, you let Pa glance my way, and I was instantly guilty as sin of anything he thought about."

"Just what did you do to her?"

"I didn't do nothing to her! I was only twelve when she married Hobart. What can a boy less than twelve years old do to a grown woman? Pester her to death? I'm probably guilty of that, but it just doesn't seem like a crime I should have to hang over."

"Maybe it's just more that you were there. Poor thing, she..."

"Poor thing, my a..."

"Hush, hon. You don't want to have that attitude during the trial. You've got to rise above it. Get your story out. She's just a woman who has never gotten what she wants. Did she have any beaus before she married Hobart?"

"I don't know. How would I know? Didn't know much about Hobart until they told me she was going to live at his house. Didn't make me unhappy one bit. I was twelve for heaven sakes. She'd taken to giving me little "corrections" behind everyone else's back. I wasn't gonna miss her at all."

"What went on before that?"

"Nothing, really. I was just fooling around until I was about six or seven...just had a few chores is all. About seven, Pa started giving me a few regular things to do. I really felt important then. He taught me everything. I loved going to the fields with him. He let me go with him just about anytime I wanted, outside school any way, and he started teaching me about handling the horses, too. That was one of the best times of my life."

"And one of her worst. Here she is, nearly grown, your father's pet, I bet."

"Yeah, she always was his favorite. He didn't let on, though."

"All of a sudden, you, the so much younger, trouble making son, took her place and her time with her father. And you were your mother's favorite too...right?"

"I never did think she had a favorite. I knew she loved me, loved all of us, but I sorta thought Frank was her favorite...but maybe she just talked about him so much to help her forget that he was gone so soon."

"Jealousy can make some people into real fools. Lizzie should have outgrown her resentment of you, but she hates you because, to her, you cost her your father and mother's love and affection."

He was quiet for a time. "Maybe you're right. I never saw it, and I can't make her admit nothing, or even get her to forgive anything she thinks I did. Lizzie's lost to me. But I can't let her rob me of Margie. Margie was never hers. If she thinks she owns her, she's as deluded about that as she was about me, and that's dangerous for Margie. Margie won't survive in that place. I've got to get her out."

"Now don't you go starting trouble for real."

"I've got to get to her. I don't want her growing up thinking I murdered em. I can't stand the thought of it. I don't deserve it. Damn it, I've had enough!"

"Patience, Chris."

"Patience be damned."

Chapter 27

Wherever Elizabeth had hidden Margaret, none of his friends could find her. The boy mended slowly in his room. The progress continued until, after Martha told her husband she thought the boy might bolt, his friends had tied him to the bed.

"If it hurts, let me know. It's not supposed to be torture. It's just for your own good. You can't afford to move about too much anyway with those ribs and lung, and I've left enough cord there to let you move around the room as much as Doc will let you. If you run now, even to protect your sister, people might start thinking the first part was true. They're bound to have heard enough from Lizzie. You can't prove to anyone that Lizzie's gonna hurt Margaret. It's just that simple. All anybody might see is you starting trouble again. This ain't a punishment, Chris. It's just a protection for you from your own hard head. Don't you trust us?"

"Trust you? Yeah, Ethan, I trust you. Why I don't know. This is twice you've pulled something like this on me."

Deep down, he knew the man was right. But... It didn't matter. Margie was gone. He grew quiet, depressed, and, since he lacked strength in any respect, very quickly he was ill. All he'd had left of his life at home was a promise he had made to Mitch and Margie. Now Margie would think he was a liar...he had failed again.

Mort came into the room again. He'd been in and out for a few days, watching the boy slip further into despondency. "It's time you stopped this you know."

There was no response. There was just the sound of his labored breathing, the glistening of fever in his eyes. If he didn't get him up and moving soon, the boy might die. It wouldn't take much.

"Ethan, you've got to do something. He was doing fine until you devised this hellish contraption. Now, he's just making himself sick with worry. He's not eating. We're even having to force water down his throat. He's not moving around. He should be doing a little bit more every day to get his strength back. That wheeze could mean pneumonia. He's been injured too much in the time he's been gone; he's just not strong enough to handle that. All it's gonna take is for one bit of influenza or pneumonia to hit those lungs of his, and he's just gonna die."

When they took the argument outside, the woman stayed. She sat on the side of his bed, reaching out to take his hand. As she'd done so often before, she brushed her hand through his hair. She saw a single broken-hearted tear. "Hon, it's going to be all right. It's not as bad as you think."

Silence.

"You're not alone in this. We won't let you be alone. He means well with it, but I know it's hard. We're working while you can't. Don't you trust us?"

"Trust you? Yeah, I trust you...I trust you all. He's asked me that lots of times. But you know what comes to me?" Bitterness edged his voice.

"What?"

"After all this time, after all I've done to show you the kind of boy, no...the kind of man I am, you still don't quite believe me. You've still got a little bit of suspicion that I really did kill them after all. And if you don't believe me..."

"That's not what this is about. You know better than that! You know how Ethan and I feel about you. You know how Warren feels. And I tell you, there are plenty more who feel the exact same way. Is this what's eating at you...not just Margie, but your fear that we'll leave you alone too? This thing's pulling you apart. It would have to be. But we're here fighting for you. It's small comfort when you look at Lizzie's doubts, I know, but at least we can promise you, you'll never be alone."

"At least not until I hang."

Ethan stood in the doorway. "You can trust her. You can trust me and the rest. And I, for one, don't think you're gonna face a noose. But, if I turn you loose right now, with what's happening with Lizzie and Margie, is that going to prove to you that I trust you? No, it's just gonna prove I don't care enough about you to see that this comes around right. You've got to realize that I've seen you faced with temptation to go charging in. In the face of something you need as bad as you need this, it won't be easy for you to turn away from charging in if the time comes. Think!"

"I'm tired of thinking. I'm tired of fighting. I want my life back."

"Don't waste tears on what you can't have. It'll never be the same. They're gone. You've moved on. When you see Margaret again, and I believe you will and not too far in the future...but when you see her, how do you know she's gonna be the same?"

He was much too quiet. There was no way he could know, but he had to try.

"Now, if you'll promise me something, I'll consider taking that thing off."

His head snapped up. "Promise what?"

"Judge has the trial set for three days from now. Some of us are going to be looking all the time...all day, every day...I promise. I know you need to do something. I just can't turn you loose. You'll either tear those ribs apart again or ride out and get yourself in more hot water. I want you to spend your time here concentrating first on what possible places we can look, getting us information. You haven't been gone that long; you'll remember something that's important. You've just got to stay here, and you've got to think."

"Hell, Ethan."

"Shut up. Second, you've got to concentrate on how to get these lungs of yours cleared out and those ribs as sound as you can. Three days isn't much time. For our sake, if not your own, stop being an idiot. Eat something. Let Doc and Martha help you. Drink what they hand you; move when they tell you. You've got to be at the trial, and you need to be on your feet when you get there. When the trial is over, and you're free, we'll do what's left to be done. If it means riding, you sure need to be ready to go."

"And if he says hang me?"

"Well, then...it won't matter one hell of a lot what your bitter old sister or that little girl thinks, will it? And you'll sure feel better before you go. Seriously, boy, don't worry about hanging. Our wild bunch long ago determined we weren't gonna let that happen, even if it comes to some of us taking a little Southern side trip with you on our own. That's just one other reason you might need to be ready to ride."

Chapter 28

He wasn't truly well at all, but he was able to walk slowly to the judge's chambers. He stopped several times in the short distance to catch his breath. There were all types of people sitting and standing in and outside the courtroom. Some came to look at him and get the latest gossip. Some came to glare at the killer and hoped for a hanging. He looked every one of them in the eyes. He remembered Martha's admonition to smile politely, mind his manners, and not get cocky.

All of his other companions, except Ethan, were already inside. Masters had insisted that he be allowed to escort the prisoner to the trial. Warren had adamantly insisted that Masters not be left alone with the boy for even a minute. The judge ordered a compromise, Warren walked with him. They talked about Loco and Charlie and what if. As he faced the judge's door again, he looked into Warren's face. "Well, guess it's time to go inside."

"That's not what you always tell me."

"Huh?"

"When you're in a big jam, or just thinking trouble, you always tell me "Let's finish this." Don't go changing on me now. Man my age doesn't like changes."

He shook his head and smiled. Warren was pleased with the result. This was Chris Larabee at his devil-may-care best. The younger man sidled closer to his friend, looking him straight in the eye, tilted his head, and with his most cocky grin, said, "Well, then, let's finish this." Masters grabbed his arm, as if to drag him inside. As the man led the boy from his sick room, the last indignity he had enforced was to shackle Chris' wrist to his own. Now, the prisoner's silent glare gave him reason to reconsider trying to drag him anywhere.

"John Christopher?" He'd know the voice anywhere.

"Mrs. Hicks?"

She was hugging him in front of the whole town. Ethan passed beside him as he entered the judge's rooms, "Now, that's what I call a perfect character witness. How'd you manage to get that hug from a fine looking woman? You did say she's married, right?" She stepped back from him, turning him loose from her ample hug, and looked him over well.

"Young man, I ought to box your ears good."

"What did I do?" He was suddenly twelve, maybe fifteen, all over again, always getting into trouble. He remembered he wasn't so much older now after all.

"You've neglected yourself. Doesn't anybody feed you. You're too scrawny, and you look so pale and sickly, what young lady would want to look at you? Stand up straight. Push back that rebellious lock of hair. Don't you remember what I taught you about taking care of yourself?"

"I remember. I remember most everything you've ever said to me. Just had a touch of trouble in my chest, a few stove in ribs thanks to my escort here. Right now, standing straight is just a might tricky, but I'm better. How's Matt?"

"Good. Good. He's inside holding our seats. He said to say hello, and for you to just send word of anything you might need. We're both on your side."

"I appreciate the confidence, more than you know. " He took a relatively deep breath and a step toward the door. He stopped abruptly. Masters tightened his grip on the chain and tugged firmly on his prisoner, who insolently snatched the chain loose.

"Masters, I'm coming. Back off." He leaned down and talked privately to the woman, "Mrs. Hicks, Matt knows all the hiding places around here, don't he?"

"Doesn't he! Your grammar was always better than that! Never mind. He most certainly does know them. He's surveyed nearly every square inch within twenty miles of here. But, you're not thinking of hiding any time soon, are you?"

"No, ma'am. Lizzie.."

"What's that little witch, sorry, what's she up to now?"

"She's got Margie...Margaret...hiding her somewhere. Says I'll never see her again. My bunch is looking, but they can't find her. Warren got somebody from the livery to check Hobart's aunt's place, and she isn't there. I don't think she's that far off...Lizzie's got to be here for today, and I don't think she'd let Margie that far out from under her hand."

"I expect you're right. When I get inside, I'll ask him. Who should he join up with if they need to go hunting."

"Talk to Ethan. He'll know what to do."

"Ethan...that's the one who just tarnished my reputation?"

Chris' laughed out loud. "Yes, ma'am. I told him he'd best hold his tongue before you boxed his ears too." Leaving Masters hanging at the end of the handcuffs, Clara Hicks took the boy's free arm, and he escorted her inside like he no longer had a care.

The noise inside was deafening. Masters shoved him quickly toward the front of the room, to a table that faced both the side of the judge's table and the area where the crowd was gathering. Mrs. Hicks, he watched, immediately located her husband. After a few short-minutes talk, Matt looked across the room at him, smiled and nodded. He mouthed, "Done," and walked over to meet Ethan. A few minutes later, the man turned and left the room.

The sound of the gavel startled him, but he settled in like Gates had coached. Judge Putnam allowed no less solemnity because this was a bench trial. He demanded order, and he got it.

"Order...order...Masters, get those things off him in my court. Nobody's proved he's a threat to a cockroach yet.. You all know why we're here. Everybody here should consider him or herself under oath to tell the truth, the whole, truth, and nothing but the truth. Let's get started. This is what's going to happen. I'm asking questions of anybody I want as I want their information. When I call your name, you can answer from where you're seated. If I need you to come to the bar I'll tell you. I call on Ethan Collins, sheriff of Patomka."

Ethan, Sam, Warren, Martha...one by one they answered his questions. Yes, he'd been in bad shape when they met him. No he hadn't caused them any trouble. He had certainly turned himself in, and they felt he had told everything. He had evidence showing there was somebody else involved in the murder. He worked hard, earned his keep, lived clean (he thought Ethan must have crossed all his fingers when he said that). He had insisted on returning once the real murderer had been killed. Hearing them, he was close to being a saint.

Masters got his chance. In this new version of his story, he was a hot-headed, no good, mean spirited, booze swilling coward. "He's been nothing but trouble since before he hit his teens. He stole horses, ran wild, stampeded cattle, caused his poor father pure anguish. He'd caused so much trouble, his father was forced to punish him severely."

"What was he punished for?" Putnam asked the same questions of them all, but in this answer he was evil personified.

"Lots of fights. Included a night when he got Becky Taylor tipsy at the Sweetheart Dance, and included a time when he nearly killed one of John's best saddle horses riding down by the river. There's lots more in my notes. John tried to make him see. He's just incorrigible. He must have finally snapped after that last beating, and came back to kill his father. Judge, I've no doubt he didn't plan on killing his mother, but no telling what went on in that house before he shot his father. Boy attacked me and his uncle when we tried to arrest him. I suspect when he ran, he just went looking for some poor devil to pin the murder on."

According to Masters, he was dirt, a crazed killer.

Mrs. Hicks was next. When the judge forgot his own rules and asked her to swear to give the whole truth and nothing but the truth, those who knew her, and they all did, laughed to think of anyone expecting her to tell them less that ALL the truth. She was not a closemouthed woman. "I'll promise, Jarvis, but you know I don't swear to or at anything." The laughter she caused made Chris feel better.

"Fair enough. Now, Mrs. Hicks...

"Jarvis, I may be older than some, but I'm not older than you. You've been calling me Clara since grade school. There isn't any reason to stop now."

Laughter.

"All right, now, everyone, settle down. Clara, behave yourself and tell me about the defendant."

"Tell you what about him."

"Don't spar with me. You know why we're here, you know a great deal about what I need to know to make the right judgement where he's concerned. Tell me about him."

She talked for over an hour. The judge asked questions...she answered in short little bursts that rang as absolute truth. His whole school life was gone over in detail. His abilities, his shortcomings. The last years, after he was twelve, the changes she'd seen due to his mistreatment at his father's hands. No, he didn't hate John. His problems with John had come sporadically, not constantly. She'd seen them working together, side by side, with smiles and laughter way too many times. John went overboard some times, especially there near the end, but the boy still tried to love his father. "I know he'd hurt him pretty badly a few months before, on a day the boy stayed at school helping me get ready for Friday lessons."

"We've heard Masters say that a few months before the murder, the boy was seen riding down by the river, and it got him in serious trouble with John. Can you confirm or deny that? "

"I heard that, too, from Carter the very next day. How he knew about it I couldn't figure. John and Chris had at least one thing in common, they didn't ever talk about family business. But I told Carter then, and I'm telling you now, on that afternoon he was in my school, no doubt about it. That boy never told lies...not one that I ever caught him in, even if it meant I'd take the paddle to him. The boy told me he was expected home for chores, and I let him go. There wasn't time for him to ride toward the river. John would have expected him to finish his chores on time, and that child was trying real hard to stop making his Pa angry. The next day, I suspected John had done something to him again because Ester came to tell me he couldn't do the work I'd given him for Friday. "

"How well did you know about what the boy went through?"

"You could always tell when the boy was having problems with John. There was always a little trouble walking or sitting, and he always got really quiet.. quiet into his very soul, poor thing. Such a shame for such a good boy to be punished like that for nothing. "

"What was his reaction to the punishment."

"Well, he'd work at getting over it. I remember even after that hard beating, when he was gone from school so long. The very next week after he came back, I asked him how things were at home. He was feeling better by then, he told me how he and John had been fishing the afternoon before and what a good time they had had. You know I work with children a lot. Children that are mistreated all the time just don't have any joy in them. John Christopher was loved and cared for by his folks, both of em, and he knew it. Now, I don't doubt he was coming close to the end of his ability to take what he had to take from his father, and that troubled him a good bit, but I think he would have been like Mitch in that. When he couldn't take anymore, he would have just said goodbye."

"You believe he's incapable of committing this crime?"

"Oh, boy was a real pistol, but never such a bad child. Not mean, just high spirited. He couldn't have been the one to kill his dear parents...he just wouldn't have."

"Anything else you want to add?

"Oh, yes, he was real sweet on Becky Taylor. Becky Taylor was sweet on him, too. I expected to see a few new pupils in my classroom within a few years with the Larabee name, if you get my meaning."

At least coming from her, Chris remembered himself as the youth he had really been, some days good, some days not so good, just a kid.

Elizabeth was next. If looks, or words, could have killed him, he would have dropped dead by the end of the first two minutes.

"Tell me what you know about your brother's actions in the months before your father and mother's deaths."

"Well, he was a always getting into distressing situations that bothered my parents. Such an embarrassment to us all. And, as to what Clara Hicks says, well, I would have known if he had stayed at school that day."

"How," he thought. "You weren't living at home. You were already married."

"I was going over to the Taylor's home to visit with Mrs. Taylor when I saw him riding Loco into the ground. He was just always so undisciplined. He never showed any respect to my father. He hated him because he tried to show him the errors he made. He hated him too for the whippings he received, and he was plotting to get even."

"Lies....lies!!!" He needed to scream it at her, but he didn't.

"He even got little Margaret in trouble numerous times. He encouraged her to lie for him, encourage her to follow along after him. Judge Putnam, I lived in fear that he would get her hurt, or maybe even hurt her himself...as mean as he was."

That tore it. He lunged from the table, yelling at her, "You know I'd never hurt her, Lizzie. Quit lying!!

Masters grabbed him by the collar and threw him backward into his seat.

Putnam banged his gavel to restore order. He looked sharply at Chris' friends and motioned for them to return to their seats. "Mrs. McCord, is there any way you can prove any of the accusations you've made against your brother?"

"Mr. Masters and my aunt's husband Rupert Comstock can attest that this is true. They know him for the degenerate he is."

"I see." He glanced at the defendant. The boy had been amazingly reserved this morning, but now, after that last outburst, he was truly angry. Yet, underneath the red splotches on his face that proved his anger, there was a pallor that revealed torment as well as fatigue. "Well, I've heard about enough for now. I suggest we take a break and get a bite to eat. Mr. Larabee, you are to be held in the room behind and to your left for the time being. Realizing the physical pain the defendant may be in, I assign Martha Collins to attend to any needs he may have. This trial will resume at two this afternoon. I expect you all to be here, and I'll send a court officer to find anyone who doesn't come back and on time."

He rose to his feet from where Masters had shoved him. He should have been able to take anything Lizzie said, but the accusation that he would ever think of hurting Margie had made him crazy. Martha had already headed for the confinement room, but Masters was at his side, gripping his arm and spinning him around. The handcuff was suddenly back on his wrist.

"That won't be necessary, Sheriff. He's not going anywhere. You can spend your lunch time at the door to make sure." The judge's tone was a demand, not a request.

"There's a window in that room, Your Honor. He ran before when he killed em, he's apt to run again now that people know what Lizzie knows."

"Is that so. Well, you can stand just inside the door of that room if you want, but you're not to touch him or hurt him in any way. You do hear me, don't you, Carter, and I said take those damn shackles off him. He needs a chance to eat in peace."

"Yes, sir." He removed the handcuff and propelled him toward the room. By coincidence, just as Chris reached the opening, a big boot slipped between his feet. He didn't fall, but he pulled his tormented side.

Martha was there. "If you do that one more time, I'll give you another sample of how well I can handle you." She took the boy's arm and guided him to the couch. "Here, hon, just loosen that collar of yours. You can slip off your boots in here, too. I've got some sandwiches. When you've eaten a bite, you just lay down on that thing and put your feet up awhile. Are you okay?"

"No. I think I may have helped them in there. I shouldn't have yelled at her like that, might make the Judge think I've got temper enough to kill them. But that was such a pack of lies. I'd never hurt Margie." He talked and picked at the sandwich she offered. He was thirsty, too, but as usual, he didn't eat very much. The small flask she offered for him to drink from contained a single drop of the pain-killing laudanum.

"Hon, I need to check your side a little. That "trip" this bastard gave you might have hurt something."

"Don't think so, but it won't harm to check. It's hurting again."

"Thought it might be. You haven't been up this long in a few days, and that side was raw to begin with. Now, just take that shirt off so it doesn't get so wrinkled before you have to go out there again. Stretch out, let your body take a little ease." She had him going where she wanted him. She pulled a brightly colored blanket and a large feather pillow from a basket in the corner.

"Where'd that come from?"

"I brought them yesterday. Putnam's a nice man. He let me put them here. He thought it was a good idea because you've been down so much. He agreed with me that you might need a little rest."

She propped him on the pillow, covered him, smoothed the hair back from his forehead. She pulled the covering back just a small bit, testing the healing scar ever so gently. The stitches were fine, but red and slightly swollen. The only noise was the ticking of an 8-day clock on a bookcase near his head. She reached over quietly and turned off the chimes. She moved to a chair across the room, trimming lamps as she went. He lay still and quiet, sad and dejected. Soon his breathing eased, and in response to the laudanum, he slept.

"No...no!!!" He began to toss an hour later, caught in troubled dreams. The outcry was so forceful, it brought Putnam. He arrived to find Martha attempting to calm him.

"Martha, what brought this on? He's not getting sick again, is he?"

"You of all people should realize he is sick. He's tired and he's sick, body and soul. And Masters tripped him on purpose awhile ago, so he's hurting again. I think all this has just brought on a nightmare."

"NO!! Lizzie, no!!!" He woke with a start, frantically searching the room. The fear wasn't real. Not anymore. He closed his eyes as his mind ran from a fear he had finally lost years before.

"It's all right, son. " Putnam watched his reaction. He seemed dazed and confused. "I'm going to postpone the rest of the trial until tomorrow. I think you've had enough for right now."

"No! Finish it!! I've got to find Margie. I've got to find her. You don't understand."

"Don't understand what?" Martha could always talk to him.

"I've got to find her."

"Judge, I haven't seen him this upset since he finally faced his parents' death. I think he'll tell me if you give him a little time. After I talk to him, then you can decide whether to move the trial or not."

"I'll give you another hour. I'll just tell them I need more time. Let me know if you need anything."

Chapter 29

Forgetting his boots or his shirt, wrapped in the blanket to stop the chill he felt, he paced. She left him alone, feeling he would talk only when he had come to terms with what was bothering him.

"Where's Matt?"

"Who?"

"Matt Hicks...Clara's husband...where is he?"

"Oh, I met him this morning. He and Ethan talked, then he left."

"Get Ethan...Matt, too, if you can. We've got to ride."

"Chris. You can't go anywhere."

"Damn it, Martha, Margie needs me and I'm going." He didn't seem angry; just determined and very worried. "Hell, if they're so worried about me running, they can tie me to the horse."

"Martha?" Sam stuck his head through the door. "Is he okay? Judge just postponed the trial for at least an hour." He noticed the look of desperation in the boy's eyes.

"Get Ethan, Sam. You best come too."

They came. Before they said a word, he was at them, "Where's Matt?"

"He's not back...came in for a fresh mount and left again. I don't expect him until late, if at all today."

"Then I've got to ride, Ethan. Get me out of here."

"You're crazy."

"Yeah, I'm crazy. But I've got to find her."

"Matt's covered about half the countryside around here this morning. He's not sure where she is. How can you be sure?"

"Cause I lived in a house with Lizzie."

"What's Lizzie got to do with this, except wanting to keep Margaret away from you."

"It's more than keeping her away. Lizzie said Margie's hers. It's not an idle threat...she means it. She thinks Margaret belongs to her."

"More reason to think she wouldn't hurt her."

"No. Property, Ethan. Property. To do with as she sees fit."

"That's an accusation from out of nowhere! How do you know this?"

"Because she took care of me when I was small. She thought I was hers, too."

"She cared for you? So what? She would certainly have taken care of you once in a while. She was your older sister. That happens in most every family. When are you talking about?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Martha knew his inclination to turn quiet. This time she wasn't so supporting. "Do you want to get past this and live? Either you know something, and you need to reach Margie now, or this is a stunt that is going to help get you hung. Now, I'm going to bring in Jarvis Putnam, Mort Harper, and Clara Hicks. I'm not putting up with any nonsense from you. You're going to tell us everything." As she left, he paced.

Putnam was not amused. "There are a good many people in this room who have come a great distance to back you up. There are a good many more people out there who want to see you hanged for murder. I'm bound by law to keep an open mind, but I understand that you're getting set to run. IF you do, before I finish this trial, I'll see that you pay for letting all these people down. You'll wish for a hanging when I'm through, and maybe get one in the bargain. Stop that pacing, sit down, and tell me what this is all about."

"Judge, I've got to ride! Margie..."

"That's preposterous. You'd better have a better explanation for all this."

"Lizzie...Lizzie's always been different."

"Everybody knows that!" Clara Hicks was still on his side.

"When I was little, after I was about four or five, Ma and Pa took to leaving me with Lizzie while they went to look at livestock or seeds. Went along okay for a little while, but after I took off one time, she got real mad. I didn't plan to go anywhere, really. I was just playing down by the river. First time I ever went there by myself, but she got furious. She beat me black and blue. When she saw the bruises, she told me if I said anything about it to Ma and Pa she'd give it to me again and then fix it where they'd turn me out. Then she locked me in my room and left. Hell, I was scared. After she left, I tried to get out of the room, but I didn't know how to undo the lock. I crawled out on the ledge outside the window and crawled as far up as I could get on the roof. I fell. It broke my arm. Lizzie put me to bed, but didn't tell Ma. Told her I had a cold, but she'd take care of me. Ma didn't realize my arm was broke until about a day after she got home."

"Did you tell her what had happened?"

"No! I was scared of what Lizzie would do. And even as little as I was, I didn't want Pa to think I'd been trouble. I tried to get Ma and Pa to take me with them after that, but they didn't understand. After the first time, Lizzie got obsessed with the notion that I'd run off. She kept telling me she knew how to make me mind the next time. There was a real little room on the top floor of the house. I didn't even know about it then. The second time they went off together, Lizzie dragged me to that little room and locked me in it. There was no light, no food, no water, no blankets. I was scared."

"How long did she leave you there?"

"I don't know. Must have been a day or so. Anyway, when she let me out, she scrubbed me down, dressed me in fresh clothes, and put me to bed, even though it was early evening. Told Ma I had sassed her, and she'd had to punish me somehow, so she'd sent me to bed early without supper. After Ma told Pa I'd been bad, he got me out of bed and gave me the first real whipping he ever gave me."

"What's this got to do with Margie?"

"Lizzie locked me in that room every time they left. The minute Ma was in the buggy, she'd put me up there. Generally made me stay until a day before they were due home...sometimes up there two days, sometimes three. I hated her. But, even at five or six, I didn't have enough size or experience to get away with much. It just cost me whippings when they got home, cause Lizzie always had a new story about why I was being punished. Pa got to thinking I was a real hard case."

"This had to be a living nightmare."

"It went on for years. I did get to be a hard case where she was concerned. Everything I could do to get back at her, I did it. I got so bad with it, she didn't have to lie anymore about what I'd done to be punished. She added new punishments when she thought of them, too. Lots of times she left me in that little room while I was sick, puking from something she'd force me to drink or eat. When she did that one winter, I got real sick, and she must have gotten scared I might die. It was the only time she took me out early. She took me to Doc and told him I'd gotten into something in the barn that made me sick. He asked me if that was true. I told him yes."

Mort shook his head, realizing how much he had seen of the child's torment, but had never realized nor said anything to make it stop. "I never did believe that story about the roof. But I couldn't prove it either. Did you really break that leg falling off a horse?"

"Yeah. That was the one thing I did to myself. Shouldn't have tried jumping the hedge."

"I'm sorry you had this experience, but I'm going to ask you one more time, and I want an answer. What does this have to do with Margaret?"

"Judge, don't you see. This went on until I was about 11, until I got big enough to run when she tried to hurt me, just about the time she got married and left. She made me crazy worrying about what she'd do to me the next time. I must have forgotten it until today. I guess it was just too bad to remember. That was what started putting such a wall between me and Pa. But it wasn't that long ago. By the time I told about it, Margie was about two years old. I was afraid Ma or Pa would take to leaving her in Lizzie's care. Well, now she's got Margie...she's convinced that Margie's hers. If she hurt me, she'll hurt Margie. Judge, everybody keeps asking me if I trust them. Trust me for a little while, please...let me go hunt for her."

"No, Chris."

They expected him to try to break free...to try to run. He tried. He hit Ethan first, but with his damaged ribs and short breath, Ethan easily grabbed him, "Stop it! Stop it. You've come this far to clear your name. If you run out of here, you're just proving what those people think. And don't you think she knows it. She as much as said she wants you dead. We're hunting for Margie... Matt will be back before too late. You've got the trial to finish, and I don't want to see you finish it shackled to that table out there. Patience...it'll be okay."

The judge ended the conversation. "The trial starts in one hour. Young man, I suggest you calm yourself and when you get out there that you sit very quietly at that table. If you don't, I'll let Masters put those shackles on you again, and this time they won't come off so quickly."

Chapter 30

Those that came early noticed his hostile gaze and hardened stare. He sat quietly, but nobody doubted what he was thinking. They felt this was a man who was ready to kill again.

When the door opened and people filed in, the man who was the object of all their stares recognized Pete Taylor. "Oh, hell. What's that bastard got to say about me now."

Putnam gaveled the room to order. "We will resume with testimony in the case of Indiana vs. Larabee on the charge of two counts of murder. I have had a request from Pete Taylor to be allowed to address the court. Mr. Taylor, please come to the chair by me."

Chris closed his eyes. If they believed Taylor...

Suddenly, the door to the courtroom opened again, and a little girl with reddish-blond hair, nestled in the arms of Matt Hicks, squealed his name. "John Chris...John Chris..." He'd been so caught up in dread, it took a second to respond, but once he saw her, he jumped. Somewhere in the commotion that ensued, Chris mouthed: "Where?" Matt mouthed back: "Your old house." Masters wrapped his burly arms around the runner to prevent his flight. When he had trouble containing him, the brute rammed his meaty fist into the poor boy's stomach.

"Damn you...let me go! It's Margie." Masters gave no quarter. The boy barely recognized the blow. That would come later.

Putnam gaveled the room to order.

"Mr. Masters, I expect you to sit down somewhere other than in the vicinity of that young man. Mr. Larabee, be seated before I have you shackled in front of your sister."

As the crowd began to settle, nobody except Chris heard the sheriff's whispered threat "You think you've got this won? Even got the Judge looking out for you. But, you'll never win, boy...not as long as I'm alive."

Nobody but the defendant noticed that Masters left the room... Margaret Larabee held their whole attention as she attempted to reach her much missed brother. With the absence of his watchdog, the boy redoubled his effort to reach his sister. Putnam wrested attention back from the crowd, and pointed at Ethan.

"Shackle him!"

"No, don't...not now...I'll be quiet. Please, don't." There were few things that could make Chris Larabee beg. He retreated quickly toward the table.

"Thought that might get your attention. Now, sit down. I offer you one reprieve, Mr. Larabee. Just one. If he won't be still on his own, Mr. Collins, if he so much as moves, you know what to do."

Chris obeyed.

"Glad to see something can get through to you."

"Judge...let me talk with her, please. Just a few minutes?" Temptation was reaching him. He wasn't still, not any more. He made another move.

"Mr. Collins, impose the order."

"Judge, just give him a minute..he'll settle down. He's just been so worried..."

"Sit down, Mrs. Collins. He made his decision, and he's going to pay for it. Mr. Collins, make it loose, but shackle him!"

"Margie...Margie," he fought the restraint.

"Sit down. He's serious. I knew you'd do this when she got back...you want him to put you behind bars. He's liable to do something worse to get your attention if you don't settle down." The shackles were on his wrist, then quickly fastened to the table leg.

"No more out of you, Mr. Larabee, or I'll send you to the jail for awhile. You be quiet. As long as you are absolutely quiet, I'll allow your sister to sit behind you, but you WILL NOT talk with her or make any public demonstrations. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, I understand." His coal-hot temper burned at the restriction.

"What?"

"Yes, Your Honor."

"That's better. We were about to hear from Pete Taylor before all the commotion started. Mr. Taylor, please come forward."

Taylor took his seat, looking squarely into Chris' eyes. The dread was back.

"Mr. Taylor, you asked to be heard. I expect you to remember you are under oath. Now, you may proceed with any remarks you wish to make."

"Judge, I'm here today to tell people what I know about Chris Larabee."

Chris went pale. The man's convictions about his character had started it all.

"Well, what about him?"

"Judge, when that boy ran from here after his parents' deaths, I told you I thought he was a thief, a molester, and a killer."

The crowd hung on his words, gasping to hear the word "killer" again during the trial.

"But, Judge. I've had reason in the last few days, especially this morning, to think this all through again, and I think I owe this boy an apology."

The room was instantly so quiet, the judge banged his gavel for absolutely no reason.

"What?"

"You see. Chris wasn't ever such a bad boy, least I didn't think he was. He'd come over on a Saturday or Sunday when his chores were done, at least after he got to know Becky. Always respectful, seemed like a nice kid to have around. As they got older, he'd ask her to go for a little ride. Thought it was real nice, the way he treated her. But then, my wife got to hearing rumors about what a hell-raiser he was. I didn't think much about it...he was getting of an age that they all want a little fun. Well, Gurtie kept telling me about him. He'd been caught bringing booze to the Sweetheart Dance. She'd caught Becky with alcohol on her breath, and when she whipped it out of her, the girl admitted that Larabee had given it to her. Gurtie said his own sister, Lizzie McCord, felt he was incorrigible. Next thing she heard, the boy had stolen a horse; then he'd taken a rig. Next, he was taking target practice with a .44, and he had Becky with him when he did it. Well, I can tell you that was strike three and four for the little devil. Even I didn't like that. "

"Then, there was a night in October...around harvest. Low and behold that boy was outside the house, pitching rocks at Becky's window. When I think back, I'm sure he'd been there before. She liked him; he was crazy about her. He just picked a night Gurtie was all upset about everything because she had been listening to Lizzie McCord that same afternoon. I didn't know until yesterday that Lizzie had been filling Gurtie's head with lies that the boy was accused of being a real outlaw, and he was a black mark on the family name. When that little old rock hit the window, Gurtie just knew he was come to kill us and steal Becky. Well, I didn't know Lizzie had been there. She always said real mean and spiteful things about that boy. I don't think there was ever anybody but her and Carter Masters who layed so much blame at that boy's feet. If I'd a known she'd been there egging Gurtie on, I'd have thought a right bit more before I headed to John's house on Sunday morning. I think I caused that boy some real harm that day, and for that, I want to tell him I'm sorry. If that boy wasn't what Gurtie made him out to be, much less as bad as Lizzie said, why would I ever think he was mean enough to kill his own kin. It was a huge mistake on my part, Judge. I'm just sorry Becky had to pay for it just about as much as him."

At first, he was relieved. He nodded to Taylor, even though he had yet to forgive him. Then, there was Lizzie, Rulebook was at it again.

"Well, Pete Taylor may forgive him, but I certainly don't." Margie cringed against his side, but she quickly realized Lizzie was no threat to her here.

"Quiet." The judge had grown wary of her testimony.

"We're all supposed to have our say, Judge, and mine was interrupted this morning."

"Make it fast."

"Pete Taylor can forgive him for "youthful indiscretions" if he wants. But I will never forgive him for killing my Ma and Pa. Mr. Taylor may have gotten John Christopher a small whipping that day, but he didn't make him bring that gun and shoot them in the back, now did he."

The room was silent. Several of the bench warmers nodded in agreement with her assessment of her brother.

"Okay, Mrs. McCord. I believe we all have your opinion duly noted. Is there anyone else who would like to address the court?"

"Mr. Judge." The voice was a young one, but not lacking in courage or volume.

"Yes, Miss Larabee."

"I want to talk."

"Well, it's a little unusual. You're a little young. But this is a bench trial. I'd like to hear what you have to say. You come up here next to me, and we'll talk."

She settled into the chair that made her look even younger and smaller than she was. When she was set, she said it. She said it simply. She looked the judge straight in the eye, turned and stared Lizzie down, too. This was big news. She knew she had it. She'd waited more than a year to tell it, and she was ready now. "Lizzie's a damn liar!"

It took minutes to contain the commotion, the same minutes it took for her brother to recover from the shock of what she'd said. The Judge was indignant. "Young lady!! Watch your language in this court!! Do you realize how much trouble you and your brother will be in if you're saying something that isn't true?"

"I ain't a liar, Judge. John Chris always dusted my seat when he found me in even a little old fib. If I tell a real whopper in this, I might get Chris hanged."

"So, you do understand? Fair enough. What makes you say Elizabeth's a liar?"

"She knows he didn't do it, and so do I!"

The room was in bedlam. Putnam gaveled as heavily as he could, then gave up and waited for quiet again.

"I will stand no more outbursts. I want absolute silence while this witness testifies or I'll clear this room, and nobody will get to hear a thing. Now, young lady, what does Elizabeth know? What do you know?"

"It was another man who killed Ma and Pa. I don't know who he was. He was pretty big and was riding a really big horse...the kind John Chris talked about with Pa because he wanted Pa to add more of them on the farm. He let me go to look at some of the foals at a man's farm one time. We just went. He didn't ask Ma or Pa."

Chris involuntarily answered, "The Percherons."

"Mr. Larabee, shut up! Go on, Margaret."

"Chris was gone...had been for a long time after Pa hurt him. I figured he was down by the river. He went there a lot to think. Figured he wouldn't come home until late...he was hurting real bad. His back was bleeding."

"How'd you know where I went." The gavel exploded.

"I followed you there lots of times before...just to see if you were okay." She turned back to the judge. "Anyway, while he was gone, this man rode up and talked with Pa for a while. The talk was pretty angry sounding. Whatever he wanted, Pa told him no in a pretty loud voice. He was still mad at himself cause he had beat John Chris so bad. The man left."

"Margaret. Do you understand what you're saying. This doesn't tend to help Chris any."

"Who's Chris? Oh, John Chris! You finally changed it, huh?!!" They all laughed at her discovery. "Give me a minute, mister, and I'll get to it."

"Margie, you can't talk like that to him. He'll get me and you both."

"Mr. Larabee, I'm about to "get" you. Didn't I say to shut up...well, SHUT UP! I'll run my own court. Young lady, I'll give you the time you need, but ..."

"I know. Chris...I like that...Chris says it takes me a year to say hello. Well, what takes me a year to do, takes him ten years to leave undone. Next to him, I'm a regular blabbermouth."

"Margie!..."

"Mr. Larabee!"

"The man came back. When he did, he sneaked up the back steps. I was still watching for John...for Chris. He generally came back from the river by the barn to check on Loco or Charlie, and my room looked out toward the barn. I saw the man come up the back steps, but I couldn't see nothing after that. I sneaked to the top of the stairs to try to get a look, but Pa spotted me and motioned for me to go hide. He said run and hide. I did what he said cause I didn't want to get in trouble."

"What happened next."

"I heard a six-shooter."

"A six-shooter? How did you know it was a six-shooter?"

"Chris."

"Chris?"

"Sure. He practiced with Pa's six-shooter. A .44 with a brown walnut grip. He let me load it for him a couple of times, and even let me pull the trigger once or twice."

"My Lord...Mr. Larabee...we'll talk."

"I knew Ma was hurt real bad. He shot her first. I hadn't gone to hide like Pa told me. I was in my spot on the top of the stairs. I heard Ma scream, and pretty soon I heard another shot. I saw the flash, and heard Pa fall. The man passed below me, but he didn't see me cause I was in my place. He tramped around the house for just a little while, then he was coming back my way, he had Pa's rifle, and he was fiddling with something shiny in his hand. I ran to my room, and I hid behind the door. I heard the back door open, and I heard the man going down the back stairs, then he was arguing with someone. I peeked outside the window, and I saw somebody else talking with the man who had the gun in his hand. When he left, I went to find Pa...so much blood...I didn't want to look for Ma after that...I knew..." Silence. It had been more than a year, but now she wept for them both. Chris, too, sat shackled to his table, silent and drawn. She moved from her chair near the judge to sit in her brother's lap, slipping her small arms around his neck. It wasn't comfort enough, but it helped. No one made a sound to disturb them.

When she was quiet, Putnam cleared his throat. "Margaret?"

"Sir?"

"Can you answer a few more questions now?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you have any idea who the second man was?

"No, sir. He seemed familiar. He wasn't as big as the man who was in the house. He was real angry at the man who had come inside. Only other thing I could hear was when he yelled at the other one to take off and get out of there."

"Tell me, why do you say Lizzie knows Chris didn't kill your parents. She was a married woman at the time. Was she visiting in your home? Did she see it?"

"She'd been there that afternoon. She and Pa had a real fight about Chris. Said Uncle Rupert had filled her in about the beating he took. She tried to tell Pa that Chris ought to be thrown out of the house, and he told her to get herself out. Said he had hurt Chris way to much already because of her lies. She was real mad, but she left. Well, after Ma and Pa were shot, she came back. She screamed and she cried when she saw them; but in just a little, she got this look on her face. I know that look. She was planning something. Somebody was gonna get a bitching from Rulebook. That's what Chris would have said."

The boy had the good sense to at least blush. The tips of his ears showed crimson for all to see.

"Why do you call her a liar. So far, you haven't proven that at all."

"Mr. Judge, when Chris came back home, I thought it was that man coming back, and I hid again, but Chris found me. Told me they were dead. I know he took me to Aunt Matilda's house, but while they were talking, they wouldn't let me stay with him. Later, when Chris ran and they took me to Lizzie's house, Mr. Masters and Uncle Rupert were there. I told them Chris didn't do it. Lizzie had to have seen the boot marks in the kitchen, and nobody's foot around us was ever that big. I told them all about the men. She didn't listen to me. That wasn't strange; Lizzie hardly listens to anyone at all, but Rupert was there and told me to shut up and not tell anybody that lie. Said Chris had killed them, and that he'd run away. Said he had left me 'cause I'd be nothing but trouble. He made me so mad, I could have spit. I was sassing him pretty good. Then, Lizzie made me go upstairs while they talked. She went to her room for awhile. I could tell she was crying. She's got a hiding place at the top of her stairs, too, so I didn't stay put like they said. Mr. Masters and Uncle Rupert talked a long time about Chris, talked pretty quiet because somebody might hear. They talked about how he needed to go. They said Chris was a problem, but he wouldn't ever go cause of me, and this was a chance to make sure he didn't come back to start trouble. They'd just let him take the blame...nobody could prove anything different. Mr. Masters said Chris was a no good outlaw and somebody just needed to do away with him, just like a mangy dog; but Uncle Rupert said they weren't gonna do that cause Chris belonged to Pa. They'd just see to it he had to run and keep on running. Didn't figure Mitch cared one bit what happened to him. They started moving around then, and I had to get back to the room she'd put me in. Chris came a little later, and we had to say goodbye, but he promised me he'd come back." She reached up to her brother from her place on his lap, looked at him, smiled, and brushed the recalcitrant lock from his forehead. He felt totally empty inside.

-----------------------------------------

Chapter 31

"Mr. Larabee. I must say this has been an exhausting but eventful day. You came here charged with two counts of murder. You are hereby cleared of those charges." His friends cheered, until the gavel silenced them all. The benchwarmers waggled their heads at the miscarriage of justice that had been perpetrated in their town.

"However," they all quietened again, "you are most definitely guilty of flight to avoid prosecution. You admitted it, and we all know it. The punishment for that crime is generally left to the discretion of the court."

Somehow, he had been prepared to hang. But Margie was here. Now, he wasn't ready to be separated from her again, not even for a day. "But..."

"Silence, Mr. Larabee. I have decided that your punishment should be lighter rather than harsher because of all you have been through. Therefore, I sentence you, as a misdemeanor only, to one week in the local jail and two months of work for the sheriff's office. You don't have to report for the jail time until Doc Harper says you're in better health."

Warren cursed, then he cursed again. "Ain't you got any sense? Work for that sheriff. We leave him alone there one night, he'll be dead." He cursed again, and he didn't care who heard.

"Silence. Mr. Lightman, I can just as easily jail you with him for contempt of court."

"Be quiet Warren."

"Mr. Larabee, I've told you enough to be quiet yourself. I'm not through."

"Yes, sir."

"I said I want you to work for two months for the sheriff's office. I did not say you were to work for Carter Masters. If any of you find that bastard, I beg your pardon, that man, I would like to see him in my office immediately. Back to business...as your duties for the sheriff's office, you are to offer protection to the citizens of Wheatland until a new sheriff can be named. If such a person is found prior to the end of the two-month period you have been assigned, you can consider yourself relieved of duty. Well, that's it. You can talk now as much as you like, and you can certainly use any room in this building to have a long talk with your sister. Case dismissed."

"Judge?"

"Yes, Margaret?

"He can't go anywhere til you turn him loose."

"Excellent point. Mr. Collins, remove the restraints."

Chapter 32

His friends gathered to him. He hugged them all, as did the little girl beside him. As he looked at her, he realized she was young, but older than her years. They both were.

There was time for talk. She swung up into his arms as he stood. He grimaced, but covered it well. The brother and sister slipped into his former confinement room together, taking over the couch. They sat, little feet to bigger feet, munching on leftover sandwiches, watching each others' eyes, enjoying that they were again together.

The more they talked, the more he would have strangled Lizzie had she been there. What she had done to him, he had survived. What she had done to Margie, he would never forgive. Where Lizzie had disappeared to, he didn't begin to care.

"I heard you telling Ma one time how Rulebook locked you up when they were gone. Must have been years after it happened, cause the way you talked it was before I came along."

"Guess you were about two when I finally told. Before today, I hadn't thought of it for a real long time, but I realize now that Ma listened to me. Then yesterday, Lizzie said she had you hidden and threatened to keep you away from me. It scared me so bad, I had a nightmare that made me remember."

"Why'd you tell Ma back then? Weren't you scared."

"Yeah. I was scared of my shadow when it came to Rulebook. But I told cause I never wanted her to leave you with Lizzie...not for one minute. I guess that just mattered more than me being scared."

"She locked me up, too, you know, after they died. She'd lock me up at her own house and tell Hobart I was away somewhere. He's such a stupid piece of sh... Sorry, me talking like that was what set her off, time before this. Chris, what's a "dee ge neer at"?"

"Oh, degenerate. That's what she called me. Means I'm wicked." He suddenly waggled his eyebrows and laughed. She liked the sound...it was the laugh he'd always used when he was up to something. "If she only knew how truly wicked I am now, it'd scare her one good time. She called you that to me the other day, too. That's why I wanted to come looking, but they wouldn't let me."

"That how Mr. Collins got his black eye?"

"Yes."

"That wasn't very nice. Why'd it take you so long to come back anyhow?"

"Had to find Pa's rifle. Finally got it a while back. Without it, I didn't stand a chance. I had the killer, too."

"Where is he? He gonna hang?"

"No. I made a big mistake. I killed him."

"That wasn't any mistake. You can tell me all about it tonight over supper."

"Supper? I hadn't thought that far ahead."

"You may not be hungry, but I've been in the closet for a few days, and I'm starving."

"Just a few? Good."

"I don't think it was so good!"

"Not good...good that it wasn't longer. After you said what you did in the courtroom, I thought you might have been there a week."

"I'd have figured out something before that long...I'm not stupid you know. Aren't you hungry yet?"

"Yeah. Come to think of it, I think I am hungry. Ask for chicken and dumplings."

Chapter 33

As the evening deepened, they all sat in the hotel kitchen over the leavings from a full pot of dumplings. While the Larabee kids each worked on their second bowl, Margie placidly told them more, "She locked me up every time I reminded her of you."

"Oh. Sorry."

"But I had a good teacher. It wasn't that bad."

"Teacher?"

"You."

"How'd I teach you...I wasn't here."

"Sure you were. After she got me the first time, I remembered what you told Ma...no food, no water, no blankets, all that stuff. Figured I was in for it a lot, and that she'd do about the same thing every time. I just took it that first time, and kept my mouth shut, like you told me to, but I didn't like that part of it one bit. She thought the dark would scare me, but it didn't."

"So, just what did you do?"

"You told me to think...so I did. One day while she was out in the yard, I snuck up to the room and fixed it up. I'd brought along a little jerky in some paper, a canteen of water, a little candle, pencil, paper, a little book, and the tin of matches you left here. She never neatened that closet up any, so I hid the stuff underneath the junk on the floor. I had to listen real careful and make sure everything was out of sight when she opened the door. When she let me out, I would act real pitiful, promising her I'd never be bad again. Few days later, I'd sneak my things out and fix that closet all over again. Rulebook never figured out why I didn't fight her like you did."

The little spit-fire. He was proud of her. But there was more.

"This time she held me at our old house. I wasn't ready to have to stay there, so I didn't have any jerky or water. I just burrowed down in my skirt as best I could, it was hot during the day, cold at night. That's how I know I was in there about four days.. I did have three big licorice whips, though, so it wasn't horrible."

"Bitch" slipped from his lips. His ear stung from Clara Hicks' surprising little clip. "Young man, haven't I taught you that such language shows what a scamp you are...and for goodness sake, watch your mouth in front of your sister, you've obviously taught her quite enough. Being gotten out of trouble once today, I suggest you be on your very best behavior for the foreseeable future." Margaret just giggled to herself. He'd used far worse in front of her numerous times, and taught her what they every one meant. This time, though, she didn't tell their life story. Her memories were all her own.

They moved to a room nearby, the siblings taking separate corners of an oversized settee.

"I'm proud of you, Margie. All the years I went through that, I never thought to change the rules."

"You know, all in all, my time in that closet, once I got it fixed, was some of the best while you were gone."

"Why?"

"Well, I didn't have to listen to Lizzie, and I could sit without even closing my eyes and feel you were there. Found out I really liked the quiet. Gave me time to plan. And it was important to remember, just like you said. Want to know what? I've still got the money."

"What? All of it? After all this time?"

"Well, ninety-seven dollars and 49 cents."

"What did you use it for?"

"Well, I had to get the canteen, jerky, and candles. It took one dollar to get what I couldn't find. I couldn't let Lizzie know I'd been up to nothing, so I used just a little whenever I was with her in town. You said to use some when I really needed help, and I really didn't want to be back in that closet without supplies again. Know what? That man at the General Store sure knows how to keep a secret...told him it was for my secret friend's place. He just laughed and let me have my truck. Only thing I couldn't buy were matches. Only time I asked, the man said little girls didn't need matches. Lizzie kept an eye on the house matches pretty good. I just stole them one at a time. All in all, I spent about two dollars over the time you were gone."

"And the fifty cents?"

"49 cents." She was suddenly as quiet as he could be. "You'll be mad. You said not to."

"What?"

"Said not to use it for gewgaws or candy. Well, it was my birthday, and I was feeling bad cause you weren't here, and Ma and Pa were gone. I didn't think you'd mind if I used a little bit for a present to me from you. I bought a real big bag of candy with licorice whips, gumdrops, lemon candies, and red devils, and I got two little green ribbons to go in my hair. Lizzie thinks hair ribbons are sinful. It was a better birthday after I fooled her."

"Lizzie didn't remember your birthday? But why did you buy that?"

"Don't be mad, Chris. I didn't use but a little." He thought she would cry.

"Oh, Margie...Little girl...come here." She slipped into his lap again. He gasped when she chose his right side to lean against. She looked quickly and seriously into his eyes. "Everything you've done is fine to me. I wasn't asking why you used 49 cents for your birthday; I'm real happy that you did. I was just surprised you bought what you did. You never used to like licorice whips, or red devils either."

He rested easier seeing her smile scamper back across her face. She cocked her head and with a so-familiar grin that surprised the others, she looked straight into his eyes, "But you do. It was my game. I ate them all, one for you, one for me, and every time I ate one of mine, I wished I was with you. Every time I ate one of yours, I wished you were home. Lizzie found the last of the devils not quite a week ago. But doesn't matter, cause I know now you were already home."

He hugged her, mostly so she wouldn't see his misty eyes. "Don't you worry about that. Soon as I can get some work, we'll get you some more, and I'll put the two dollars and 49 cents back in your sock."

"I'm not a baby. Now that I have you back, I don't think I want any more...licorice is nasty, and red devils burn my tongue. I'll take some gumdrops, though."

"Okay, you've got some." He rested his head back again the soft back of the overstuffed couch, closing his eyes for a moment of rest.

Martha moved quietly behind him, her cool hand to his hot forehead. "Hon, you hurting? Your fever's back."

He opened his eyes. His fatigue was evident to everyone near him, but he was hard headed in admitting that as well, "Just a little...don't worry about it...I'll be okay."

But Margie had noticed. "You promise you won't die."

"No, what I've got won't kill me. I'm just a little tired. I promise I won't die. Now, Miss Serious, are you ready to be out of here? These people are hoping we'll shut up so they can get out of here for a little rest, too." He picked her up in his arms, and whispered in her ear, "Margie, you best watch out for Martha. Ma would have loved her."

"Then I'm in lots of trouble now. If I do something bad, you take the blame. It's your turn."

"In a pig's eye, it's my turn. And don't you go being a blabbermouth."

She was as tired as he, and her temper flared just as quickly as his could. "I'm no blabbermouth!! You getting addle-pated these days?"

"Whoa. It's a joke, little girl."

"Ain't so little neither."

He ruffled her hair, "No, not so little anymore."

Chapter 34

The outside crowd had long since given up on more news and headed for home. But the friends continued to talk, though the conversation had moved to the front porch. Margie would sit nowhere else other than his lap. She felt warm and safe with his arms closed around her. Martha started to object, fearing his ribs would give, but he quietly shook his head.

"Matt, how did you find her? Nightmare made me remember that Lizzie had a hiding place at our house, but I couldn't get word to you."

"Just thought she couldn't have vanished into thin air. If Lizzie wanted her close by, where nobody would find her, the best place was to hide her at the old house. I just played the hunch. You know that room's damn, excuse me, mighty hard to find. I passed the door up there a couple of times. I was getting ready to leave when I heard a little bumping sound. I was real glad to find that she was pretty much okay...a little dirty, but not too bad."

"No thanks to Lizzie, trust me."

"When I told that little girl that you were on trial, and we were looking because you sent us, she nearly made me crazy. First, she wouldn't go one step until I fetched water and she got a little bath. Didn't want you to see her all messed up. Didn't ask for food or water. I made sure she took some though. She didn't dawdle, but she insisted when we got to town that I find, of all the fool things, those little green ribbons she's got in her hair. Insisted I let her ride on the front of the saddle, too. Said she didn't like looking at my rump. Lord, Chris, she's a stubborn and prideful little thing."

"Did you expect any different...she's his handiwork." Clara laughed. "Ought to see this one in the classroom. Lord, Chris, compared to her, you were an angel."

Margie giggled softly. "Somebody should have said that at least once to Pa. Would have made him real happy."

Chris was suddenly too quiet. "Yeah, wish they would have, too."

"Land sakes, don't anybody go getting him in a mood again. That was the first solid food he's eaten in days. We need to get him in bed, and that little one too. They've had a real hard day. Ethan, go get his coat...shouldn't be sitting here in the night air. This girl doesn't have a coat either!"

"I don't need a coat, Martha. We'll be fine."

"Matt, what made you come off without a coat for this child. Well, you'll have to get one for her from somebody. I know...go ask Betsy Culpepper...her Molly's about Margaret's size..." Clara had joined in too. Matt left in a hurry to stop their yammering from totally making him crazy. Ethan followed quickly on his heels.

"Chris." The little sleepy voice whispered into his ear as her head rested on his shoulder..

"Yeah, Margie...what is it."

"I see what you mean. Martha's a lot like Ma."

Chapter 35

Leaving that building without Masters, without the shackles, and with Margie on his shoulder was the best thing he had felt in a long, long time. Freedom, friends, Margie, home. It was a night to celebrate, but he thought it best to see that she got her rest. She insisted she wasn't sleepy, but he knew she had to be exhausted. With her snuggled against his shoulder, he wasn't walking too straight a line himself, and Ethan was following him way too close. After all these months, he was still one of the man's strays.

"Ethan?"

"Yeah, Chris?"

"Where are we staying tonight? Am I headed right?"

"Yeah. You remember, we've got rooms at the hotel? You've just been over at Mort's a spell."

"Um, oh, yeah. Sorry."

"Chris?"

"Thought you were asleep, little girl."

"I'm not asleep." She yawned.

"What then?"

"Can I look in the store window?"

"Now?"

"Yeah. They've got a whole rack full of new ribbons. Please?"

"It's pretty late, hon. You really like ribbons that much?"

"Yes. Ma always bought ribbons for me. Lizzie threw most of them out."

Such little things, used to make a child's life miserable. Well...he wouldn't stand for a bit of that...not tonight. "Sure, okay...just for a minute. Sam, will you take her, I'm just gonna step over here to ask Martha something." The tension he had felt for so many days was beginning to dissipate, leaving him more than tired, with a head and stomach that threatened to stop his celebration. He didn't want Margie worried that he might be ill.

"Sure, I'll take her. Come on, darling...let's be quick about this." As Sam carried her toward the store, he talked to her as if she were grown, as he had always talked to his Martha, "Margaret. You best know. He's been hurt pretty bad a couple of times lately. He's some better now, and finding you will speed the process, but right now he's not real strong. Don't let it scare you. It's just a thing that he needs to get a lot of extra rest. Do me a favor, let's keep this little window look a tad short for now. We'll come back tomorrow."

"He said he was okay."

"Do you doubt he'd tell you that?"

"No. But if it'd been me, he'd a dusted my seat."

"Well, when he's a whole lot stronger, you can return the favor."

She had her look...showing Sam the ribbon she liked more than anything in the world. She was ready to go much quicker than he had anticipated, so he let her go, knowing Chris was only a short distance away, ready again to take her.

She was about 3 yards away from her brother when Carter Masters walked out of the alley shadows behind her. His gun was already raised, aiming. Chris thought he aimed for Margie. "NO!!!" His scream split the silence. He managed to reach her, shoving her roughly into the street. The bullet had never been meant for her. As intended, it found his stomach and left him doubled in the dirt.

Chapter 36

He fought for his life. The surgery had taken hours. Done, his fate was less than certain even then. All the friends waited inside the doctor's office. They had tried to shield Margaret from the truth, but told her everything in the face of her fury and tears. They waited. The street was filled with people who tarried for news. "I heard he tried to shoot Masters...did you hear that too?"

"Ma, ma, don't die. Don't die." "Please. It hurts." "Pa...I didn't. Please, believe me...I didn't. Don't hit" ... "No more. Please, Pa, please!!" "So cold"...."Please don't die."

"Why did Mr. Masters want to hurt Chris?" Margaret's look demanded that somebody answer.

"I doubt we'll ever know it all if Masters dies. Chris thought it was all about the land..."

The voices he heard blended with his demons. "Ethan.... get Margie... ...Let me go...find..."

"Margaret's just fine. Rest now, sleep hon." Cool water, then sleep. Martha worried over him constantly. "Come, here, Margaret. I've made you a pallet over here. I've got you a blanket so you can curl up here by me. It's going to be okay."

"Lizzie, leave her alone!!!" He screamed and fought, then was very, very still.

He was lost to them for a very long time. Around the clock, they watched for a change. Twice, as his stomach muscles tightened, Mort worked doggedly to staunch the blood that insisted on seeping from deep inside him. Everything they did for him seemed only one more thing that hurt him. There was no respite from the pain. Finally, in late night of the fourth day, with Margaret's head resting near his arm, he opened his eyes. Something moist touched his lips.

"Ethan?" He barely heard his own voice.

"Naw. He's outside. Want me to get him?" A soft, damp rag touched his face, a spoon drizzled something cool past his lips. The pain was all there was, except for the voice.

"Pa?" The voice confused him.

"No, John Christopher. Ain't Pa. Here, kid...drink it."

Something cool but bitter slid down his throat. He struggled feebly to find the face. "Pa?" His attempt to recognize the voice unleashed a wave of nausea.

"Mitch?" He slept.

At dawn, briefly awake, he looked for the other. Margie was there, just as he remembered it, her head resting near his arm. Ethan was touching a cool, wet rag to his lips, bathing his face. "You?"

"Well, hey! He said you woke up for a minute last night, but couldn't prove it by me today."

"Was it you?" He whispered his question.

"What?"

"You...here? Dream?"

"No. Wasn't me."

"No, it was me, little boy. Wake up, open your eyes, and you can see for yourself. It's time you quit hiding from all this."

He tried and received his reward, "Mitch?!! It hurts." There was a small relieved smile, but he had something more important to do...sleep.

At the man's arrival, they hadn't questioned who he was. A more substantial version of the one they worried about. Margie confirmed it, slipping from Martha's lap to his arms. Mort confirmed it, too. The robust man, wearing a first mate's cap, had green eyes and only slightly darker reddish-blond hair that marked his heritage. So did his smile, the one that finally appeared when his brother tried to wake.

"Hey, little boy. Just like always. I only come home when I have to protect your hide from somebody that wants you dead or gone."

"Not so little. How'd you know?"

"Tried to keep an eye on you. Knew you'd found the pipe, but I lost you after that. After you got away, I told Mort and Jarvis I wanted to hear if they found you, or got word where you were. They sent a telegram the day you rode in, said you were in trouble. I wasn't surprised at all. Word only reached me after I got back from a trip on Old Man. Sorry, kid, I should have been watching the company offices for word along the river, like I was used to doing. 'Fraid I was just having a little whoop-de-do."

"Wish I'd been with you. More fun. This... a bitch."

Ethan spooned more liquid down his throat, "He rode in about the time Masters shot you. Returned the favor for the bastard." The two men had become fast friends already.

"Kill him?"

"No."

"Good...hope...hurts like hell, too. Son-of-a-bitch...owes..me..answers." Sleep beckoned and he went.

Four long days later came the turning point they'd waited for. He woke at mid-morning, worn from the battle, but with less fever and a willingness to stay awake.

"So wasn't a dream!" He was weak, but the fog was lifting.

"No, not a dream." Mitch helped with the sponging of his body. "Lord, Chris, what did you do to get yourself in this shape?"

"Don't know. Must be born for it."

"Never seen someone so young who's body looked so much like a mountain trail. How many times you been shot?"

"Enough."

"Beaten?"

"More than enough."

"I expect so. You ever gonna be any different? That rig Ethan showed me is a little troublesome. You're just 16 now. Reckon you'll ever be able to put it down?"

"Hope so...someday. Leads...stitches. Hate stitches. Oh-h-h-h. Damn! Don't want...more."

Ethan eased beside him and raised his head a bit. "Here, Chris, drink a little of this. I mixed the laudanum in a little whiskey for you this time. It's a might stronger. Anybody that's been through this is old enough. Maybe the pain'll let up a little more."

"Try anything...don't tell Martha. Masters make it?"

"Yeah. Son-of-a-bitch is gonna be just fine."

"Gotten any answers out of him, yet?"

"Waiting on you. Didn't want you to be the last in on anything. More you rest the sooner you get your answers."

Being awake was no picnic. His stomach ached and burned, his ribs protested movement. He grew quickly tired of broth, wishing for anything that would chew or have taste, anything of substance. They gave the chore of feeding him to Margaret. She tempted him into the extra little sips, then tiny bites of soft mushy things he hated, anything that would help regain strength. She took to bringing him small pieces of licorice, their little secret, just for fun. She held back his favorite red devils, promising them only when he got off his backside and walked. Little by little, day by day, then week by week, he won the journey back.

Then he was trouble for sure. Mitch walked in, fresh bandages in hand, dreading this particularly worrisome chore for the morning. To his amazement, he found their "sick" patient, legs over the bed springs, hand against the mattress, trying vainly to stand. "Whoa. Who said you could..."

"I did!"

"Damn it, Chris. How ornery can you get just lying in a bed?! Mort says another day or two before he can even consider taking those stitches out. The last of the stitches have to come out before you can start moving around this much. Lie down before you set yourself back!"

"I'm tired of this bed. My back hurts. There's not one place on this thing I haven't worn out. I'm just planning to sit up a little...not planning on walking tour."

"Lie down."

"Don't you go fussing over me anymore. Just help me up. Damn! Come on, help me."

"Well, good!" Ethan's smiling face appeared, replacing the too stern reprimand on his brother's.

"Glad to see this is a real pleasant day for you two. You boys gonna help me up or not? Damn! That hurts. Come on, don't make me do this by myself."

"You sure started it enough by yourself."

"You two calm down. Doc said when he got determined enough to try to get out of that bed on him own, we could help him. Now, boy, don't think you can just cut loose. We'll help you a little along, but things will go faster now." Ethan moved to his side, bracing him as he tried to move.

"Oh-h-h-h! Damn! Can I see Masters yet?"

"Nothing's just ever enough for you, is it? Got to try for just a bit more. You never did learn." Ethan's face now held the reprimand Mitch's had lost.

"Oh, Ethan. Shut up and help me up."

Chapter 37

They were able to contain him for a few days. He wanted his meeting with Masters, and he pursued his goal with pig-headed determination This time, he was trying to convince Putnam, but that wasn't working either. "Just a day or two more, Chris. He's a bit stronger than you, and I don't want trouble starting up again. You just can't take it yet."

"But Judge...I'm okay...I can move." He was actually standing on his own at the window, fully clothed, sipping more of the ever plentiful broth. He still resembled a whitewashed scarecrow.

"But nothing. Mort's the one to give the okay."

When they gave up and scheduled it, Putnam made it a trial. The Judge's office was the only place that would hold the town again.

"You sure you can make it across that street? I can put you in a rolling chair to make sure." Mort was more of a worrier these days than Martha. At least she understood what he wanted.

"Don't want a rolling chair. Just set Ethan on me. He knows how to be my watchdog just fine."

As the time came to go, he began to pace. "Ethan, where's my gun?"

"In a drawer in the next room, why?"

"It clean? I need it."

"Why? You got a plan I don't know about? If you're planning to go make trouble, I'll shackle that leg of yours to the bed again."

"Don't you bet on that. I don't want any surprises this time. He beat me up once, then he shot me, because I wasn't paying attention. He gets me this time, it's because I'm a damn fool."

"See your point, but I don't think you're up to it yet. Maybe everything ought to wait a day or two..."

"Hell..."

"Patience, Chris...patience. He's not going anywhere."

"If one more of you tells me to be patient, I'm gonna..."

"Okay, hard-head, I'll get it."

When he put the rig on, he realized just how far he still had to go. The weight of the gun against his stomach muscles was agonizing. "No, I'm not waiting another day-or-two. Buckle the holster. I'll just carry it over my shoulder. Come on, you two. Let's finish this."

Seeing Masters in shackles didn't hurt the young man's feelings at all. Nobody was taking the former sheriff for granted anymore. Masters was pale, just like he was, and the boy fervently hoped he had been through just as much. Masters eyed the gun. "Judge, you gonna let him loose in here with that thing?"

"Well, I would trust him to use a little more restraint than you ever did, Mr. Masters, but, no...Chris, hand it here."

"Judge, I'd rather..."

"Give it here...now. Give it to me, or this trial is off."

Chris handed the weapon to the magistrate, then sat with Ethan and Mitch at the table he knew so well. "Like old times, boys." The rest of his compatriots sat behind him, waiting for the answers. All other seats were taken by people in the town.

"Mr. Masters, this is a bench trial, just like the one I conducted for Mr. Larabee. I will ask questions, people will answer, I will determine your guilt or innocence. There are several charges. First, you are charged with perjury for lying about Mr. Larabee's participation in the death of his mother and father. Second, you are charged with accessory after the fact in the death of John and Ester Larabee, and, third, with attempted murder of Chris Larabee. How do you plead?

Masters took a deep breath. "Guilty, not guilty, and, of the third, guilty as sin."

"Why, you ...Chris was on his feet.

"Mr. Larabee, don't tell me you've forgotten your lessons about courtroom outbursts and shackles, have you."

"No, sir."

"Then I suggest you sit down. You plead guilty to perjury, Mr. Masters?"

"Yeah, I lied about him. He's just like those others from around here. Raising hell, laughing at me behind my back. He was worse than the others, always making life hell for Lizzie, all the time. He deserved a little hell in return, and I didn't mind being the one to see he got it."

"Lizzie?... What does this have to do with Lizzie?"

"Mr. Larabee!"

"Most marvelous woman I have ever known."

"Elizabeth? You and Lizzie?" The very thought of it amazed the young man.

"She's been denied everything. She was mine, but to get away from her home where her parents virtually ignored her because of you, she married Hobart McCord. Married that no-good farmer instead of me...said your parents would approve of him more than they would me. You cost her everything, and you've cost me plenty. But she could always count on me. I'll protect her as long as I can from everything I can. We were happy while you were away from here. But, you just had to come back. That upset her just like before, and I was determined you'd be gone for good."

"At the trial, you indicated that Mr. Larabee had killed his parents. According to other testimony, and now your own admission, you knew full well that he had not killed them. Why did you lie?"

"I couldn't figure how else to get rid of him permanently. She made me promise not to kill him, just to scare him off. But after the killing, I could tell Elizabeth he got shot escaping, and she wouldn't doubt what I said. Anyways, I had my own reason for making him guilty."

"What reason?"

"If he was guilty and hanged for it, nobody would think to talk about Woodrow."

"Woodrow? Who's Woodrow?" Chris was as confused as everyone else in the room.

"Woodrow Perkins, my brother...half brother."

"What? What's your brother got to do with..."

"Woodrow's a stupid fool. He always wanted what he couldn't have. Incorrigible. He wanted your Pa's rifle, so he went to barter with him over it. Barter would work fine with him, as long as he got the best end of the deal, but if it didn't, he still wanted what he wanted. Told me later about the argument he had with John. Well, when your Pa wouldn't even talk about trading or selling, Woodrow...hot head that he was...went back to steal it. Well, one thing and another, he wound up shooting them both. I was trying to follow him to stop him, but he got there way ahead of me. Everything was over when I got there. I didn't know anything about the boy's problems that day. I just told Woodrow to get. Later, found out John had given that boy a real bad beating, so that gave me evidence to use to prove him guilty. Worked out perfect, almost."

"Where's Woodrow?" Chris had a hardened look on his face. He would ride after him if it was the last thing he did.

"Dead."

"Dead? Where?"

"You killed him and my cousin in Patomka. "

Ethan interjected, "I never met any Woodrow or Perkins either in Patomka. And he didn't kill anybody except the bounty hunter on top of the hardware store."

"Weren't no bounty hunters. Oh, they said they was to get information, but they was just after that boy. Woodrow found out I was placing blame on him, and that a reward had been offered, so he thought he'd just go after the money himself. Thought that was real funny."

"Why did he want to kill me so all fired bad?"

"Oh, kill you if he could, then nobody would suspect him. My cousin Festis went with him, mostly cause he wanted a share of the money. You killed them both, didn't you, you son-of-a-bitch? You're gonna die for that. Maybe not today, but after I get out, or before if some of the rest of us can get to you first."

"He didn't kill them both...He just..."

"No, Ethan. You remember, I got em both. First the one on the hardware roof, then the one from the alley across the street."

"But, Chris..."

"Ethan, if I'll admit to killing one of them, what difference if I admit to killing them both?"

"The circumstances, Mr. Larabee? Should I make arrangements for a trial in Patomka for you?"

"They tried to shoot Ethan and me in the back while we were walking tour."

"Did you shoot first?"

"No, sir. One of em got Ethan in the side, I shot him. Another was in the alley, tried to bushwhack me, but shot me in the shoulder. Just trying to come out of it alive is all."

"Larabee," Masters stared at him with hatred. "So you admit you killed them, my brother and my cousin. Well, there's at least four more of my kin who'll come hunting you...and Festis has three brothers of his own. You'd best watch out for them. This man can lock me up, but I don't think that's gonna help you none. I'll help them all I can, even if I am in prison."

"Mr. Masters, by your own words, you are also guilty of attempted murder of Chris Larabee. And while you plead not-guilty to being an accesory in the Larabee murders, you most certainly helped your brother escape punishment for committing the crimes and deliberately set this court against this young man. In light of your testimony, I order you to immediately be sent to the state penitentiary to serve a sentence of 20 years, with no possibility of parole. Sam, do you have sufficient time to transport the prisoner to Washington. I'll wire the warden for a prison wagon to pick him up there."

"Sure Jarvis. I'll see he gets there real cozy. Hope he don't put up much of a fuss. My trigger fingers a might itchy. Knowing he's got such plans for the boy's future, I might not be able to avoid the temptation to scratch the itch."

"Sam, I don't want to hear any such nonsense from you. Chris, this is all over now. You're free, there are no charges left against you, but you remember what I told you to do after your trial. You owe me a week in jail and two months protecting the town. Mort will tell me when you're ready."

"I'll tell you. I'm doing much better about now. Might as well just finish this."

Chapter 38

Ethan thought Chris would be ready to enjoy the rest of his day in the free air outside. Instead, he sat at the table in the Judge's office, extremely quiet, a dark brooding look on his face. "Two questions, son."

"What, Ethan?" He had noticed the word, but he didn't want to spoil anything. Hadn't been bad being this man's stray. He had grown, he had learned, and he had lived.

"One: Why did you insist on saying you killed em both. You know Martha killed the one in the alley?"

"I want to know that too, Chris." The Judge came to the table and sat across from the men. "Since when do you think it's okay to lie under oath, even if it was to a man who wants to kill you. I just chose not to push it...but I could you know."

Chris thought about his answers. "Masters' clan and Festis' brothers might come. I don't want them looking anywhere near Martha or Ethan. If they think I've admitted killing them; maybe they'll just come after me. Besides Mitch and Margie, they're the only family I've got."

"Two: What's got you so quiet all of a sudden. You ought to be just a little bit happy this is all over."

"Why did Braddock run?"

"Braddock?"

"Ethan, I killed the wrong man."

"He wasn't no saint, Chris. He did fire on you first."

"That don't matter, I walked into that bar and I could have walked out. Instead, I started it. He didn't murder them. Why'd he run? Why didn't he just produce witnesses or come back for trial?"

The Judge looked at him. "It happens Chris. He was in big trouble. He was just like you. He didn't do it, but he couldn't prove it. He went into hiding about the time Woodrow committed the murders. I suspect he didn't have anyone who'd stick up for him, at least nobody anyone would believe wasn't in his gang. He had your Pa's rifle. That was probably the only truth he ever told, that he bought it off a traveling salesman. Woodrow probably figured it would lead to trouble in the long run and decided to sell or trade it."

Ethan added, "And looking at Braddock, he was about the same size as Perkins, so it would probably be hard for those storekeepers to ever separate the two. And Chris, believe me he wasn't exactly innocent. I checked on him. He was wanted in two states for robbery, assault, and horse stealing."

Putnam added more. "I did some checking myself. Few knew he was wanted here in Indiana for murder as well. Said he killed a saloon girl up north. If he'd gotten to the jail here, he may not have hung for your parents' murders, but he'd have hung for some of the other charges. He just chose not to go easily. And he wanted to take you, all of you, with him."

"Judge, does this mean I'll stand trial for murder again?"

"No. I'm not pressing that, or reporting it to anyone in the state. Can't imagine Sam giving you any problem about it. You did save his life in the bargain. The man fired first from all eye witness accounts, your two friends here and other bystanders in Owenville. What's more, he had a bounty on his head, dead or alive. You can even collect the reward if you've a mind."

"No, sir. I don't want any part of a bounty on him or anybody else. I know what that's like. If he had a family, send it to them. If not, use it to help somebody out of trouble."

"That's enough then. I suggest you let yourself put this all behind you, get some rest, and try to get your life back together."

"Don't know how. Not much left to mend."

"You leave that to me." Mitch walked to the table and took his seat next to his brother.

"You'll be gone."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"You leaving the river? Thought that was what you liked best. Come on, Mitch, don't do this on account of me."

"Not only on account of you. You're old enough and seasoned enough to see to yourself. But, are you forgetting Margaret?"

"No, of course not. Lizzie's still here, and probably more bent than ever on making my life hell since Masters will be going to jail. Lord, can you picture that? Rulebook in a love affair with Masters. Reckon she was in it even before she married Hobart. Now those two would make one mean combination. Lizzie's liable to put somebody on me herself, especially if Hobart develops a backbone and kicks her out."

"We're talking about Margaret. Can she go back to Lizzie's place?"

"Hell, no. Never!"

"Well, she sure can't live alone with you."

"And why not?"

"I haven't had to say this to you in a while; but, Chris, THINK!! How many have you killed so far?"

"Two."

"Just gave yourself credit for a third."

"Yeah."

"How many more are there looking for you?"

"I don't know. According to that lying Masters, looks like about seven."

"Not a real lucky number for most. And then there's anyone that's related to Braddock and holds a grudge."

He was quiet again. "You're saying I can't stay."

"Don't go being stupid. Sure you can stay, but it'll be better if you're not alone...you'll need somebody to back you up. I'm opening up the house, Chris. What say you, Margaret, and me try to get the farm in order."

"What about that fool Rupert?"

"He's got to know by now that he was led down the garden path by Lizzie and Carter. If Pete Taylor could see it, there's a pretty good chance ole Rupert will too. If you can get past it, maybe the two of you can at least live by each other without starting a war."

"I've had enough trouble. I won't do anything to him if he'll just leave me alone. By the way, what did Pete mean...that Becky's paid for my trouble, too?"

"She married Jesse Comstock, Chris. Believe me, she pays every single day for trusting Rupert and Pete."

"Damn! I thought she was smarter than that. I thought she believed in me." So that was another dream gone. "Mitch, I hope this will all work out. I'm not so sure. If Masters gets to all those people, I could just be trouble for all of you."

"You just get on with your life, and don't borrow trouble that's not here and may never come. First, you've got to pay your debt. Judge told me to tell you than getting over that bullet to your gut more than makes up for the week in jail. I've talked with Mort. Says you're fine to walk tour for the judge. We've agreed I'll walk with you until I'm sure you're up to it. He says if you don't start working too hard, too soon, you can use your extra time to head out to the house as soon as I get it open. I'll sure need you to help with the repairs, and to keep Margaret in line. I think I'll assign her to you."

"Hell, Mitch. She's a little girl. What do I know about taking care of little girls?"

"Not so little!! She walked into the room, having created a furor demanding release from waiting friends. "When we get back to the farm, I want my own horse, just like Loco."

"You're not going anywhere near a horse that's as crazy as that lug-head of mine. Wouldn't you just as soon have one like Charlie, a good dependable one?"

"No, I want a bay, not a sorrel, one with spunk, and I want to learn quick so I can start riding down by the river by myself."

"We'll talk about this later, you little hellion."

"Don't you go calling me that, you stupid old cowboy."

"Margie....shut up!"

"Am I gonna have to hide the both of you to get any peace and quiet at that house? I'll just leave you both and head back to the river."

"Then you just go." Margie took him on. "He don't like threats...especially about somebody beating him, and I don't like it one bit either. You just go on. Chris'll teach me what I need to know. Won't you, Chris."

"Margie...you best not talk to him that way. You're gonna get us both in trouble."

"He don't scare me one bit. Thought you had way more backbone than this!"

"Okay, you little hell-cat..."

"See here, little boy, you started her down this road, so you just get busy reining her in. As far as I'm concerned, it's time you just finish this."

Chapter 39: Epilogue

Nearly a year had passed...a good year when the worst thing he had to deal with was Margie's high spirits and a few drunks. He was well. He could remember the day he realized he no longer hurt, not stomach, not ribs, not anything. He was happy.

He'd made peace with Becky during a spring morning ride to look over the valley. He was now tall enough to lift her from the saddle, making him remember so vividly their last morning ride together. But she insisted that she would live with her mistake...there was nothing that either of them was willing to do to tarnish her name.

Losing her was one thing. Thinking of her being caught for life in abject misery with Jesse Comstock was entirely different. After he left her, he made one less-than-friendly visit to see his cousin, leaving with ten battered knuckles and a promise from a much wiser cousin that Becky's life would improve immediately and constantly. It was the last gift he could offer his love, and she would never know.

Nobody called him a troublemaker any more. He felt he had finally earned their trust and respect. He missed Ethan and Martha, Sam and Warren, but he knew where they were and planned a visit later in the year. And he had a job. He was now the sheriff. He'd laughed so hard when the Judge said he had recommended it to the city council, he'd made Jarvis mad as hell.

But a week ago, his life had changed again. He had become quiet, troubled, taking long walks to the river, refusing to eat. It was Margie who noticed and followed him on his walks, silently shadowing the man, checking to make certain he was okay.

Wednesday early, just past dawn, Mitch walked out of the back door down the steep steps toward the barn. He found his brother adjusting a saddle on Loco with the sorrel tied behind, laden with supplies.

"What's this, Chris? Where you got to head this time, that's a big pack you've got there? Who are you hunting? Gonna be gone long."

"Yeah...gone for good. I've got to go."

"Thought you got over that notion a long time ago. Why now?"

"Last Wednesday."

"What about Wednesday."

"Man named Jeff Braddock came to town."

"So."

"Name doesn't mean anything to you?"

"Can't recall any such."

"Norris Braddock? It was his brother. He called me out in the middle of the street. I killed him, Mitch. He wasn't a kid, but he wasn't that good either...he didn't stand a chance against me...but he had to go try it."

"It was a fair fight wasn't it?"

"Yes, fair fight, but it doesn't matter. I killed him right there, and I didn't try to wing him. Him being here in my home town, that scares me a lot. The only good part is he can't tell anyone where he found me. Last thing he said was they were all looking for me, wouldn't stop til they got me. They found out who and where I was from a cell mate of Carter Masters."

"You check the telegraph office. Did he get a message out."

"The telegrapher checked back over a month. Couldn't find anything that indicated he told anyone. But there were lots of messages out of here. The wording in some could have been a message about me, but there's no way to tell."

"You're just buying trouble again. We can handle this, the two of us."

"Not so easy any more. City council found out who he was, and it scared them. They asked me to resign. I said yes."

"Well, you've got work here. It's really gonna take both of us to keep the place going."

"Then they said it would be better for the town if I'd just leave, so the scum wouldn't show up here."

"Why those ungrateful sons-of-"

"They're right. I can't put you and Margie in danger, other people of this town either. I've got to go."

"Where?"

"Stop and visit Ethan and Martha a little while, decide what I need to do. Be a lawman, maybe...at least if none of those old posters are still lying around."

He laughed....a small, bitter sound. "There shouldn't be any more. Ethan and Sam notified every lawman they know that the charges were bogus. Judge sent word to his kind."

He'd taken the pleasure of personally burning, one by one, the posters Masters had kept in the desk drawer.

"But I can't stay there long either."

"You're sure enough gonna be alone, boy. You want that?"

"No. I didn't ever want to be alone the first time or expect I'd have to be alone again. It's been so good being here. But, I won't be alone. I have people who know me, who've saved my life, and who back and protect me still. But what kind of payback would it be if I lead a pack of jackals to their doorstep. I can't do that to them any more than I want to do that to you and Margie."

"You sure you have to do this? Really sure? Don't rush into this. We can figure something out."

"No, I don't want to do this at all, but I don't think I've got a choice. You'll be here for Margie. That's got to be best. Keep her away from Lizzie. Tell her..."

"Tell me what?" She had grown over the year, turning from a roughneck tomboy into an interesting girl. She was going to be a beautiful woman, one with red-blonde hair and lots of spunk. She didn't miss the horses. "You gonna git...you gonna let me come along?"

"No, Margie, I've got to git, but you can't come." It hurt him to say those words to her again. He talked with her as if she were fully grown, mostly because at her young age, she was completely grown. They had been through a great deal.

"I shot a man last Wednesday, a man who came here to kill me. He called me out in the middle of the street. That could have gotten me killed, or gotten somebody else shot. There are more after me than before, and they're getting too close to here. I don't want to bring them close to you and Mitch or this town. You're just too important to me. If they're going to hunt for me, let them do it somewhere else."

He knew if he didn't mount and ride quickly, he probably never would. If he didn't, he could cost them their lives. That was what was driving him to go.

Sometimes truth was better than a lie, but sometimes not by much. He mounted Loco, gathered the reins and lead rope, reaching down to clasp his brother's hand. His tried and failed to hide the tear that fell onto the young woman's hair.

She cried too. "Don't go! I don't want you to go again. You said you were home to stay. You promised."

"I know, and when I said it, I prayed it wasn't a lie. Thought I was back for good. You know I wouldn't do this if I didn't feel it was best for everyone. I love you both; I love my life here. But this is something we can't run from anymore. It's something I've got to face. I'll sneak back whenever I think it's safe. I'll try to make sure you know where I am, but it may be a long time Margie...a real long time before I can see you or before you hear from me. You've just got to trust me. I've had to realize myself that Ethan was right. Once I put on this rig, there's just been no way to get back home."

End