Nothing was the same. Tahlia was off on some vague scam with another man, and while the occasional visit or phone call was great, he was left sitting alone in an apartment that she got from a different �other man�. The place was a reminder that, despite everything, despite the L word getting dropped, she wasn't entirely his. Such time only brought images he didn't, couldn't bring himself to face.

He knew what often happened on cons she ran. He didn't want to hear the moans, envision the wandering hands. He didn't want...many things. What he needed was a distraction. He needed to clear his head, learn to live without carrying the self destructive hatred that he fueled him for so damn long.

He had vehicles stashed all over the city. Granted, none of them were really his, per se, but he had a way out. One call and a promise to Tahlia later, and he was ready to go.

Sliding into the driver's seat of a black 72 Charger, he felt a bit more comfortable. This felt familiar. The engine roared to life, the vehicle seemingly trembling and ready for their journey. There was no destination, but at the moment, that suited him just fine. A bit of Whitesnake crackled to clarity through the speakers, bringing a smile to his lips.

�Here I go again.�

Day turned to night turned to day over and over again. Roadside motels, small town inns, and truck stop eateries became the way of life for the next week. All the while, he kept in touch as best he could with the redheaded con artist who he called his. Not particularly anxious to dwell on the particulars of what she was doing (or really, who), he kept conversation to the basics. Stuff he'd seen, how he was doing, where the next stop was. It wouldn't do to get all jealous and worked up. That was completely contrary to the agreement! The almost entirely unspoken agreement they'd made when they started shacking up together.

But, then...that was before the "L" word got dropped. Now, everything was far more complicated. Now he wanted her. He wanted her for himself, not to share. It was stupid, and naive, and completely against who he knew her to be. Simon had her love...but exactly what in the hell did that even mean with people like them' And was he even still that person' Was he even in a place to know what he wanted when even he wasn't sure the man he'd been hadn't been lost in that fire"

He shook his head, coming out of those dangerous thoughts and back to now. The window down, sunglasses upon his face, and wind whipping through his hair, Simon drove on. His attentions returned not a moment too soon as the engine made a whining noise and the Challenger began to cough and sputter. A frown pulled his lips downward as the vehicle rolled to a stop along the gravel shoulder of the road. "Great?" he muttered to himself, unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding out of the car.

The moment he popped open the hood he was hit in the face with smoke. He waved it away, coughing and peering down into the engine. Simon had many talents, but he was not a mechanic. He looked around, finding nothing but road stretching miles in front and behind him, and just miles of sand and dirt to either side, fading off into distant mountains. In short, he was a screwed. "Mother ****er!" he yelled kicking the tire in frustration.

Alright, he decided, you let the bad in, Simon. Now let's deal with it. He could start walking onward and hope there was a town nearby...or go back 25 or so miles in the other direction...either choice wasn't exactly appetizing with that sun beating down upon him. At least he had a few bottles of water stashed in the cooler, but even then...walking.

He decided to take one last look at the engine. Maybe a hose came loose or something simple. No harm in checking. Simon leaned in, peering down, not entirely sure what he was looking for, but dammit, he was looking. He barely even registered the sound of a truck pulling up ahead of him, grinding to a rest along the shoulder with him.

"Havin" a bit a" trouble?" A feminine voice called out to him.

Simon glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of her. 5"7", brown hair streaked with dirty blonde highlights tied back in a pony tail, eyes hidden behind a pair of aviators. Her slender frame clad in a pair of tight blue jeans and a black tanktop. Behind her, a big Ford pick-up rumbled. It oddly seemed to suit her.

"Yeah?" he grumbled. "Was just rollin" along and she took a ****."

"Mind if I take a look?" she asked.

"You know about cars?"

"No, I just ask to see strangers broken down engines for fun." She said, a little smirk appearing as she approached. The stranger pulled off her glasses, revealing big, round eyes that held a myriad of colors. Blue, green, brown...it was hard to pinpoint an exact color. Her brows knit together as she looked down. "Well...definitely somethin" goin" on with your radiator. Might be cracked somewhere. You been gettin" this beauty take care off on the reg?"

He scrunched his face, and it was all he needed to tell her. The woman chuckled and shook her head. "C"mon, man...gotta give a little love to these older gals...."

"Well, I just kinda...picked this one up." He explained. No need to tell her that it wasn't...entirely legally procured.

"Tell you what." she said. "My father-in-law loves this kinda stuff. He's way better at this than even me. So, whattaya say we hitch the old girl up and I bring it on over them?"

Good lord, and he thought HE was naive. Part of him wanted to lecture her about picking up a stranger on the road. The old broken down car bit was a favorite of carjackers and thieves. And he would know...he was one back in the day.

"You sure?" he asked her.

"Yeah, not a problem." She said, turning. That was when he saw the grip of a pistol out the back of her jeans.

Okay, he thought maybe not so naive.

The pair of them managed to hitch the car up and he climbed into the passenger side.

"What's your name Sleeves?" she asked. Simon glanced at his tattooed arms a moment before responding.

"Simon."

She put her sunglasses back on and threw the car into gear. "Kate. Kate Wilder."

The truck rolled to a stop at the foot of a dirt road right before sunset. The farm spread out far and wide, stalks of corn surrounding the place like a miniature forest. A barn and a stable off to one side while a cozy two story farmhouse was set in front of them. Simon peered around as Kate hopped down. "Here's home."

"Katie-girl" That you?" An elderly male voice called out from the barn.

"Yeah, Pop. I brought company." She called back.

The man who stepped out looked every bit like an old cowboy. Tall, lean, with silver hair swept back and a thick grey mustache upon his upper lip. "So I see." He said, looking over the stranger on his property.

Simon could tell the man immediately smelled trouble on him. He moved over to him and offered a hand. "How's it goin?" Simon Toews."

The old man glanced at his tatted, deformed hand a second before taking it in a firm handshake. Not to be outdone or mocked as a city boy, he squeezed right back. That got a little grin out of the old cowboy. "Ya got a good handshake, kid. Too many young'uns come at ya with a dead fish. I can respect that. Virgil Marston, though most folks round here just call me Pop."

Simon smiled and released his hand. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Marston."

Virgil laughed "****, kid, you ain't the girl's prom date. Virgil. Or Pop. Whichever suits ya."

The old man glanced around him at the downed vehicle, grey eyebrows rising as he stepped around. He whistled, approaching the vehicle. "Now, that is a thing of beauty. What is she" 71?"

"72." Simon corrected with a smirk. He watched the old cowboy lean into the window and look around.

"What's wrong with "er?" "Well, that's what I'm hopin" you can tell me." Simon responded.

Virgil snickered, shaking his head. "Damn kids. Driving a work of art around, don't even know how to take care of it. Pop the hood will ya?"

Simon walked up to the door, leaning in and hitting the release. Virgil planted himself over the engine compartment. "So, where'd Katie find you, kid?"

Simon came over, watching him with his tatted arms crossed. "Broke down in the ass end of nowhere."

"Yeah...that's where she finds most of her strays." He said, squinting. "What brings you out to my little piece of nowhere?"

"Had to get away for a bit."

Virgil eyed the tattooed stranger. If trouble were personified, it would look like Simon Toews. "You in bad with the law?"

That gave Simon a laugh and a shake of the head. In all reality, he probably should have been...but this was Rhy'din and Calloway was gone. The Watch didn't seem to have much interest in taking him down, so...no. The law wasn't what he was running from.

"Ah." Virgil said with a knowing smirk. "Lady, then?"

"Something like that." He responded.

"Well, kid...not much I'm gonna be able to tell ya right now. I'll wanna get "er in the garage and get a better look at what?s gone wrong here. You're welcome to stay, if ya want."

Simon shot him a bemused look. That wasn't an offer he'd much recieved from random strangers. Not when you looked like him. "In your house?"

Virgil shrugged. "Don't see why not."

"You ain't worried I'm gonna do somethin??"

"You plannin" on it, kid?" Virgil eyed him...Simon knew that look. It was one he'd often used. It was confident and threatening and calm all at once. Virgil wasn't one to mess with.

"No, sir. Just sayin"."

"Kid, one thing you oughta know about me...I'm always ready, I'm always armed...and if ya make a move on me, Katie, or my little Millie, I'll put ya down before you even know what hit ya." Virgil said cooly. Nothing in the man's tone suggested that it was an idle threat or hot air. Simon liked him.

"Millie?" He asked. He hadn't been told of a Millie.

"My granddaughter. Katie's girl."

Something cold spread through Simon's chest. He hadn't really spent any time around a kid since Cici. The mere idea gave him an uncomfortable, panicking chill.

Heat. Screams. Gunfire. It was all around him. Simon ran towards the door, back in his room at the old factory. The second his hand touched the knob, he was scalded and withdrew. Smoke filled his vision, his nose, his lungs. Those screams continued from the other side, urging him on desperately..

Simon reeled back and kicked the door open with all his might. Fire filled his old living space, so bright and hot he could barely see. The screams continued as he brought his arm to shield his face and pushed onward, his limbs becoming heavier and heavier with every step. It was like somebody had attached a chain to his back and kept pulling. Figures ahead were barely silhouettes in the raging flames as he fell to the ground on his hands and knees.

He remembered that scream. It was one he'd heard in his nightmares for years. Simon couldn't see her face yet, but it was etched on his memories, clear as day. Cici. Terror in her young eyes as he crawled, helpless to save her.

And the other...blonde. Curvaceous. Trouble personified. Tahlia had swept through his life like a tornado. Reawakening a fire in him that had died with Cici. Now, the two were together, struggling against invisible bonds, screaming for him to help them.

Simon's muscles ached and strained, dragging his impossibly heavy body across the hot floor. Every bit of his body and soul felt overexerted, drained. And then the third figure stepped forward. He'd half expected to see Cotter standing there. Just as it had been the day Cici was ripped away from him.

But it wasn't.

As Simon's gaze turned upward, all he saw was himself.

A cigarette hung from his lips, his eyes lost to shadow. The cherry glowed with a hellish orange light as he took a drag. The smell of gasoline filled his nostrils suddenly, and he wasn't in his old home anymore. Suddenly, he was in that old warehouse from 11 years ago. Cici and Tahlia knelt in the puddle of gasoline, both of them drenched and wailing.

"Please?" he tried to shout. But his voice only came out as a whisper. His doppleganger stared down with those dark eyes and flashed a bright, toothy grin. The shadow Simon held up that cigarette as if presenting it.

"Please?" Simon begged again. Simon's stomach turned as the shadowy version of himself flicked the cigarette away, sending it tumbling slowly into the puddle. The trapped fighter screamed and writhed, trying to move, but couldn't budge even an inch as the flames burst to life, rushing towards Tahlia and Cici, his cries echoing into nothing as the inferno engulfed them.

He lurched upright in his bed, his body covered in a cold sweat. That world was gone. Here, it was quiet. Peaceful. The sound of crickets creeped in through the window as he tried to catch his breath. A dream. It was only a dream"

Simon wiped the sweat from his brow and tried to even out his breathing. He closed his eyes and then grabbed his jeans.

Moments later he stood out on the porch, the sky littered with bright, brilliant stars. A cigarette raised to his lips, the flame illuminating his face briefly as he lit the tip. It *was* incredibly peaceful out here. Coming from a place that was full of noise and bodies, standing along in the middle nowhere surrounded by nothing but open land as far as the eye could see was an odd comfort.

The screen door behind him creaked open, drawing his attention back. Kate stood in a pair of PJ pants and a tank top, her hooded sweatshirt pulled tight around her slender frame. She lifted her chin toward him, a little smirk on her face.

"Night owl, huh, Doodlearms?"

Simon grinned. "Yeah, that's me. Burnin" the midnight oil." He took a drag and blew it out the corner of his mouth. "Didn't wake you, did I?"

Kate shook her head and stepped out, surveyed her property a moment. Simon had to admit, she was a looker. There was a time not so long ago, those eyes alone might have done him in. She turned those multi-colored hues upon him, glancing at the cigarette in his hand. "You bring enough for the rest of class or what?"

"Oh. Right." He said, fishing in his pocket. "My manners." He let her draw one out and quickly lit it for her.

Kate took a drag, holding that smoke in a while before letting it glide out from her nostrils as she gazed at the farm in the moonlight. "So, what do you do, Simon?" She asked appraising his tatooed form. "I don't imagine you're a kindergarten teacher or a preacher, lookin" like that."

Simon looked down at his arms a moment. "You implyin" somethin??" he said, feigning offense.

She snorted. "Nah. You're a picture of well-adjusted. The tats and scars wouldn't terrify a room full of children at all."

Simon smirked, a quiet laugh escaping him. "I'm sorta in-between things at the moment..."

Kate watched as if waiting for him to finish. When it became clear he hadn't planned to, she continued for him. "Buuuut, Kate, I used to...what? Ride dirtbikes for a living" Hand-model?"

That got a genuine laugh out of him. "I don't imagine they'd want mangled hands for that gig."

"Hey, you don't know." She smirked. "Those meat hooks are so messed up, they'll make the jewelry look even better."

Kate leaned her hip against the railing and looked him in the eye. "Come on. Level with me."

"I was a fighter." He admitted.

"Like a boxer?"

"Cage. Bare knuckle." he clarified.

"That makes sense." She said, squinting and nodding. "Were you good."

"Well, not to brag, but oh yeah. I was awesome. Totally blow your mind." He nodded with faux vigor.

Kate shot him a toothy grin, taking another drag. "So' What made you quit?"

He snorted. "What makes every man quit something he's good at?"

"Castration?" She deadpanned, getting a laugh out of him. "So. You found yourself a girl, huh' And where is she on this road to self-discovery?"

"Off somewhere with some other guy."

Her brows raised. "Wow. Damn. That's some ****y luck."

"No," Simon laughed, "It's not like that. She's working a job."

Kate leveled a stare at him. "Why do I feel like that job's not entirely legal?"

"It probably isn't." He admitted. If he was honest, he didn't quite understand the point of the whole thing, other than getting money, but it wasn't like he was some pure, good intentioned angel his whole life either. Hell the amount of blood on his hands alone would terrify Kate if she knew.

The young mother took a long drag, studying the stranger before her. "Do I need to worry about you, Simon?" She asked slowly, pointedly. "Are you gonna be a problem for me?"

The corners of his mouth twitched just a bit before he shook his head. "No. I'm just a guy trying to figure things out."

Kate nodded. "Good. Because you do anything to put me, Pops or my little girl in trouble" They ain't gonna find your body. We clear."

She was ballsy. Tough. Simon liked that. "Crystal."

"Good." She said stomping out her cigarette. "Then we can be friends!"

Kate smiled and went past him, giving his arm a squeeze. "Don't stay up too late."

"Ugh, fine, Mom." He whined.

"Don't you use that tone with me!" She called back, playing along.

He made a noise like a whiny teenager.

"Hey, I brought you into this world, I'll take you out!" She said with faux anger. "Little ****..." she muttered, heading on in.

Kate brushed past Millie, leaning down and planting a kiss atop her head without breaking stride. The little girl put on a big cheesy grin, letting out one of those little kid "heheeeeeee" giggles that never failed to get a chuckle out of her in return. The stranger in her house probably should have been some concern to her. The tattoos, the scars, that quiet sense of danger about him...it should have been off-putting.

But here she was, making a space for him at her breakfast table, letting him sleep in her home. Maybe it was the kind, quiet way he spoke to her, or the somewhat sad, weary look in his eyes, but there was something about him that she trusted. Most men seemed to only have eyes for specific parts of her body, but he didn't seem to give her a second glance in a way that suggested an attraction. Plus, he'd earned points by being nice to Virgil.

Pops was the one man in her life she truly counted on. Tough, seemingly fearless, but kind, protective of those he loved. How he'd managed to retain such a good heart with everything that had happened"

Her thoughts were interrupted as a creak came from the stairs. Simon stood at the foot of the staircase, a plain white t-shirt and blue jeans on his slim, toned form, his blonde hair just short of messy. That man must have broken hearts wide-open back home, she thought.

"Mornin" Doodlearms!" Millie said with a happy little wave as she loaded up her plate.

"Millie!" Kate exclaimed, a little mortified, but also trying not to laugh. "Rude."

"I'm sorry. MISTER Doodlearms." Millie corrected herself with a sullen tone.

Simon's face lit up in a laugh. "Mornin" Ms. Munchkinface." He said, moving into the kitchen and to the plates, offering a nod to the blushing single mother. "Kate." "Don't encourage her." Kate gave him a comically weary look. "How do you like your coffee?"

"Black." he responded.

Kate let out an exasperated sound and rolled her eyes. "What is it with guys and black coffee" Is that supposed to make you tough because you drink something that tastes like burnty, sweaty ass?"

Simon laughed, loading up on ham hash. "I don't know, I just like it like that."

"Well, have you TRIED cream and sugar" I promise, it's WAY better."

He put on that bemused little smirk and shook his head. "Can't say that I have."

Kate's eyes bugged out. "Okay. That's it. You're trying this."

Simon looked over to Millie, deadpanned. "She always like this?"

Millie's eyes flicked from her mother and back to Simon. And she nodded.

"Hush, you. You're supposed to be on my side." Kate said, pointing at the child while pouring the cup. She added two cream and sugar, stirred it, and slid it over to him, a smug, confident look on her face as she crossed her arms.

Simon's blue eyes stayed on the light brown concoction a moment before shifting up to her. He reached over and took the cup in his hand. The mug was raised in a form of salute to her before being brought to his lips for a sip.

Simon froze for a moment, staring off at nothing as Kate waited with bated breath.

"Ohmygod?" he whispered.

"RIGHT"!" She said, slapping the counter.

"Seriously?" He said, taking another sip. "Yeah. Yeah, that is WAY better."

"Told you! I told you!" She grinned ear to ear. "Next time we're going out and getting a fancy coffee."

Millie just gave them both a look like they were crazy. Kate sipped her own cup, catching the look. "What?"

"Coffee's gross and you're both weird."

Simon snorted into his drink.

Simon stepped out of the bathroom, freshly showered, drying his hair with a towel. His muscles ached from the strain of a hard day's work. Even for a man in his physical condition, it wasn't easy working on a farm. He snatched up a t-shirt and walked up to the window. Virgil was out in the barn already, working on the car.

Old man had more energy than he would have imagined. Simon smirked, shaking his head.

"Darn it!" He heard a young voice exclaim across the hall. Simon stepped out and into the doorway, leaning a shoulder on one side.

"What's with all the not-cussin" in here?" He asked. Millie sat at her desk looking frazzled, a math book open in front of her. The little girl looked up at him pitifully. "Math. I hate it."

"Yeah?" Simon pushed off the doorway and stepped over, peering down. "Multiplication, huh' Never really got the hang of that one, myself."

Millie frowned up at him. "It's hard."

"Well, let me take a look?" he squinted. "Alright...5 times 13?"

Simon screwed up his mouth, thinking. "That's...18, ain't it?"

She gave him an unimpressed look. "That's addition."

"Oh, right, right. Which one is multiplication?"

Millie did not look amused.

"Hey, I didn't get much schoolin" growin" up." Simon said, hands up. "Explain it to me." He at least looked genuine.

Millie eyed him a moment before speaking again. "Okay. So, like, you have...like...2 times, I don't know...4. That's like going two plus two, but four times in a row."

"Ohhhhh?" He said, feigning like he just figured it out. "So...basically, what we have here is?""

"It's double digits." She said dejected. Simon smirked. The doubt was in her head.

"Right, but it's pretty much 13 plus 13, but five times in a row. Isn't it?" He rose his brow, looking to her. "Ooh, or 5 plus 5 thirteen times?"

Millie furrowed her brow "No, because?". And then it clicked. Her eyes went wide. "I get it! I get it!"

She went right to scribbling down the problem. There weren't very many academic topics he could help out with, but finding easier ways to get an overthinking mind around simple math concepts was a specialty.

He slinked out of the room as she worked. Even from the hall, he could hear the tension in hushed voices coming from downstairs. Something was up. When Simon reached the bottom of the stairs, Virgil and Kate were in the midst of an argument.

"Look, she told me they're out of town. I haven't been into town in-" Kate was saying, pushing through the screen door.

"You don't know when they're comin" back, kid! What happens if they do?" Virgil asked her.

"They won't!" Kate countered.

"You don't know that!"

Kate wheeled around on him. "Look. I can't just stay here and hide the rest of my life. That town is my home. I should be able to go back there when I want."

"Yeah, kid. You should. In a perfect world, ya would. But this ain't a perfect world." Virgil's tone changed from chastising to soothing.

Kate's eyes lowered a moment. "Pops?" Those brilliantly colored hues turned back up to the old man. "I'm going."

"God damn it, girl, you ain't got the sense the good lord gave a gopher.

Them boys find you there, how brave you gonna be?" Virgil rumbled.

Simon stepped into the room before Kate could respond. "What's goin" on?"

Kate gave him one look. "You. You're comin" with me." She turned to Virgil with a smirk. "See" Now I got back up if somethin" goes down."

The old man gave Simon a once over. He certainly LOOKED the part of someone you didn't want to tangle with. "Fine." He finally relented. "But things go south, you get the hell outta there, y"hear?"

"We will, Pops." She said, grabbing Simon by the arm and leading him away.

"Where...where are we going?" Simon asked, confused.

The bar was in full swing, country music blaring over the crowd. The haze of smoke hung heavy as they made their way in, more than a few eyes trailing the pair of them to the bar.

Kate smirked as she leaned against the bar, speaking to the busy tender. "Hey, sugartits, how about a drink." She said gruffly.

The girl behind bar was a slim, sexy thing with black hair and big, brown eyes. Clad in a midriff-baring tight tank top and jeans that almost seemed painted on. Tattoos snaked up her arms and onto her neck. She wheeled around, an angry expression on her face.

The anger turned immediately to surprise the moment she saw Kate. "Oh my god, Katie"!"

"Heya, Maisie." Kate grinned, the pair of them leaning across the bar for an awkward hug. The girl's face dropped as she looked around, cautiously.

"What in the hell are you doin" here?" she said quietly to Kate.

"Heard the boys were out of town tonight." Kate responded, straddling a stool and settling down. "Figured I should come and enjoy the place while I can."

Maisie eyed her worriedly. "You don't know what this place is like now, Katie." She looked around. "It's dangerous. Especially for you."

"It's my home." Kate said firmly. Maisie shut her eyes and shook her head. "Besides." Kate continued, "I've got protection."

Simon glanced up as she hooked a thumb back to him. As she spoke, he was looking around. Who were the biggest threats" Where were the exits" What could be used as a weapon' Maisie's reaction to Kate set him on edge. Instincts could not be denied. He was a survivor for a reason.

"Simon." Kate called his attention. His head snapped in her direction suddenly, it becoming clear that she had called his name more than once.

"This is Maisie. She's an old friend." Kate introduced him.

Maisie was eyeing him up and down, a barely contained interest in her eyes. Simon put on his best amiable smile and took her hand. "Simon. Nice to meet you."

"Get you a drink?" Maisie asked, squeezing his hand.

"Sure. You got scotch?"

"I have Jack." she said with grimace.

"Works for me. Bathroom?" Simon hooked a finger to the right.

"Yeah, right around the corner." Maisie nodded. She watched as the tattooed stranger walked off, still eyeing him up and down.

"Hel-loooo, Simon." she said in an intrigued sing-song. "So...what?s the deal there?"

Kate gave her SUCH a look. "It's not like that."

"Why the hell NOT?" Maisie asked like she was crazy.

Kate glanced after him. "Well, first off, I've only known him, like...2 days." She said, turning back to her old friend. "Second, I think he's got a girl back where he's from."

"I don't see no ring." Maisie said, pouring two glasses of whiskey with a smirk.

"Classy, Maze." Kate rolled her eyes. The barkeep just grinned to herself.

"What have you been-"

Kate looked up from her drink, checking to see what had caused the sudden silence. Maisie was staring straight ahead, wide-eyed in terror. She didn't need to know what her friend saw. She could sense him.

"Katie. Mae. Wilder." The drawling voice said behind her. Much of the bar had hushed to a whisper. "My God. I must be seein" a ghost, eh boys" Because last I recall...she up and disappeared."

She turned and eyed him, the look of a cornered animal in her eyes. The man was tall, lean. Dark hair slicked back, a dark layer of stubble upon his face. He walked toward her, lighting a cigarette. "What's the matter, Katie Mae" You ain't happy to see me" I'm happy to see you."

"Wyatt?"She said, her voice trembling. Whatever bravado she'd had was gone.

"Where you been?" He interrupted her. Those grey eyes stayed on her as he sat on a stool across from her. She just stared, her fingers clasping around her glass, ready to throw it. His eyes flicked to it and then back to her. "You gonna attack me, Katie" Hm' You gonna smash that glass on my head" Knock me out' Then what? Y"know...my buddies...they don't like hitting women. But...you know what they say about bros and hos, right?" He sneered and glanced back, chuckling with his friends.

"So." He said and nodded to her hand. "Why don't you take your hand off that glass. And we'll talk all friendly-like, yeah?"

Kate swallowed hard, still clutching the glass of whiskey so hard she thought it might shatter. Wyatt's head tilted to one side. "No?" He nodded slowly and blew twin sets of smoke from his nostrils. "You know, you might be surprised to hear this. But they never found the old man's body. You believe that' See, what I'm thinkin"...is that he might still be alive."

Katie could feel her pulse racing, her adrenaline pumping. Fear telling her to attack or run...knowing neither would end well for her...but then...she was getting the feeling that there was no way out of this night that didn't end badly for her.

"So." Wyatt said. "Where is he" Where'd you two run off and hide, huh?"

Silence.

"Answer me." When she didn't respond, he slammed his fist on the bar, shaking the glasses and bottles. Before she could say anything a body stepped in between her and Wyatt. Simon took up his glass and looked to Maisie like he didn't even see the situation happening between Kate and the man.

"Thanks." He smiled to the bartender and took a sip of his whiskey.

Wyatt looked to his buddys with an incredulous grin, gesturing to the newcomer. Simon turned his back on him and looked to Kate. "So." He said to her. "What's up?"

Wyatt, looked at him, annoyance in his eyes. "Hey. Pal."

Simon glanced behind him for only a second before continuing talking. "So, here's what I'm thinking we do. Have another drink or two here, then maybe we go see what else is happening in town. They got karaoke around here?"

Kate just looked at him, terrified he was going to get them into a situation they couldn't get out of.

"Hey, ***hole!" Wyatt said.

Simon turned to him. "Excuse me. I'm talking to my friend."

Wyatt eyeballed him dangerously for a long moment before he gave him a toothy, sneering grin. "You're not from around here. So...maybe you don't know who I am. But this is my town. We run this ****ing town."

"Yeah?" Simon said with a raise of his brows. "Nice place. You pick out the drapes?"

Wyatt narrowed his eyes. "Katie. You better tell your boyfriend here-"

"So, anyway." Simon said turning back to her. "About that Karaoke bar?"

Wyatt grabbed him by the shoulder and in a flash, Simon whipped around and in one swift motion, pinned his face against the bar and pulled his arm out behind him. An audible gasp rose from the room. Wyatt grit his teeth, red coming out from between them. Simon got close, eyes up and watching the others. "I'm gonna tell you this once. Don't ever put your hands me again. Do you understand me?"

Wyatt's buddies began to move in but Simon yanked on his arm. "You take another step, I break his arm." He leaned in again. "Tell me that you understand."

"I'm gonna rip your f-AGH!" Simon yanked again.

"I'm not finished." He snarled. "You go near Kate again. Talk to her. Look at her in a way I dislike...and things are gonna get very...VERY bad for you. You don't know me. You have NO idea what I am capable of. Do not test me."

Kate did not know what to do. Part of her wanted to tell him to break the son of a bitch's arm. Or worse. She realized that wasn't the part of her that REALLY wanted to leave alive. "Simon?" she said in a shaky voice.

He glanced her way and nodded. Simon yanked Wyatt to his feet, pinned his arm behind his back and grabbed him by the back of the neck. "We're going to step outside now. And your little goon squad are gonna stay behind. Aren't you?" He said. "Because if they don't, one hard twist and you're gonna need them to wipe your ass for the rest of your life."

"You're a dead man." Wyatt said, spitting blood.

"Yeah." Simon said. "I get that a lot. Move."

Kate stuck close to him as they walked out carefully, through Wyatt's friends. As soon as they got outside, Simon glanced to Kate.

"Go start the car." he told her. She reached into her purse fumbling around for the keys as she ran. Every nerve was on edge, it felt like she couldn't work her fingers properly, but she managed to get the keys in the door.

Simon's eyes locked onto the pick up that wasn't there when they'd arrived. That was definitely theirs. He slammed Wyatt up against the door, pinning him there, and drew a knife. He flipped the blade out, panic filling Wyatt's eyes momentarily before he plunged it into the tire. He rose up and grabbed him by the back of the head. "You forget you ever saw me or Kate. You go on with your life...or I'm going to rain hell upon this town like you ain't ever seen. I promise you. Do not **** with me."

Simon wheeled him around and shoved him to the ground as Kate pulled the truck up behind him. Wyatt hit the floor, scraping his face on the concrete with a grunt. Simon quickly hopped into the truck. "Let's go.?

Kate and Simon came home surprisingly early that night, and with barely a word said outside of "Good night", she retreated to Millie's room and closed the door. Simon himself just gave the old man a nod and went to his room.

Virgil could guess how the night went. It wasn't like Katie to be so short and distant. Something had to have happened back in town and he was pretty sure he knew what. Wyatt had once been the old man's pride and joy. A strong, confident kid with all the potential for greatness in the world, corrupted and broken down into the beast he'd become.

He could still remember that night when his own son and the group of thugs he called friends showed up at his doorsteps demanding to know where Kate was. That night, he'd talked to his son, his own flesh and blood from in front of the barrel of a gun. The moment that trigger was squeezed, his son died. Replaced by...this. The wound healed, with Kate's help, but the real and emotional scar would never go away.

Virgil sat upon the porch, an acoustic guitar in his hand, and a cigarette hanging between his lips as he tuned the instrument by ear. Those sharp, hazel eyes flicked up over the miles and miles of farmland, leading out into the prairielands. The guitar tuned to his satisfaction, he took the cigarette from his lips, rested it on the bench armrest, gave the guitar a strum and began picking away at the strings,

"Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie Where the coyotes wail and the wind blows free And when I die don't bury me Beneath the western sky on the lone prairie?"

His voice was that low rumble, yet somehow melodic and full of sorrow. His eyes glanced down to his plucking, fingers.

"Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie These words came soft and painfully From the pallid lips of a youth who lay On his dyin" bed at the break of day..."

Virgil picked up and took a drag of his cigarette, eyes sweeping across the expanse of land again. He exhaled in a long stream of smoke before resuming playing.

"But we buried him there on the lone prairie Where the rattlesnakes hiss and the wind blows free In a shallow grave, no one to grieve Beneath the western sky....on the lone prairie." The bang of the screen door snapped the old man back in the moment. Simon stood there, drawing a smoke out for himself with his teeth. He gave the old man an upnod and stepped out on to the porch.

"I like that. Nice song." He nodded, accepting a lighter from Virgil and lighting up.

"Old cowboy song. One a" my favorites." Virgil said, taking back his lighter and lighting another one for himself. "My Granddad used to sing that to us when we was kids, my brother n" me."

Simon grinned through the plume of smoke.

"You got family, kid?" Virgil asked, eyes redirecting into the night.

Simon shook his head, "Nah. Never knew my parents. Bounced around foster homes for a bit, but them people weren't ever family. Mostly violent, drunken losers who beat my ass half-to-death or sold me off."

Virgil's eyes flicked his way a moment. "Sorry to hear it."

Simon shrugged. "Never had much use for family."

The old man regarded him with an amused little laugh. "Yeah...complicated thing, ain't it?"

Simon thought back to what Kate had told him. Virgil's own son...he couldn't imagine what that had to be like. This wasn't some drunken, violent *** hole like the people he grew up around. Virgil, for all intents and purposes, was a decent, kind man. Probably poured every bit of love into that kid, just as Simon had done with Cici. Having that kind of love be thrown aside...that couldn't have been easy.

"I saw him." Simon said.

Virgil didn't even look over. He just took a drag and exhaled a moment later. "I figured you might"a."

"No offense. But he's kind of an *** hole." Simon said wryly.

Virgil snickered. "Yeah. Yeah, he's kind of a little ****, ain't he?"

"How does that happen?" Simon asked after a good laugh.

Virgil seemed distant as he stared off, collecting his thoughts. "Man named Callum Marks. Lowlife with deep pockets and a con man. He rolled into town, got a bit of a crew...threw his money around. He was bleedin" the town dry with debt to him. Eventually, he even had the sheriff's department in his pocket." The old man took one last drag and flicked it away.

"I saw what he was doin". Saw the strongarm tactics he used to extort the people there and watched the goons with a ****in" badge look the other way. Wyatt was tough. But young and angry. Perfect mark for a man like Marks. Promised my boy the world. Promised him power. When I started actually enforcin" the law, messin" with his business, he didn't like it very much. By the time I was able to talk to Wyatt, he'd been turned against me." He sighed and ran a hand through his silver hair. "I just didn't know how far he'd fallen."

Simon nodded slowly, stomping out his cigarette with heel of his boot. "Did you know Kate back then?"

A smile crossed the old man's lips then. "Oh, hell. I known Katie all her life. Bein" a cop in a small town, meant knowin" everybody. And bein" the one honest cop in that town later on, meant everyone knew, too."

"She knew to go to you." Simon asked, though it wasn't really a question. Virgil nodded in response. "That had to be a tough decision."

Virgil sniffed at the air and shook his head. "She had my grandbaby in her." Those hazel eyes turned to Simon. "My son might have been a rotten sumbitch...but that girl was family now. Wouldn't take it back for the world."

Simon smiled, but it faded. "If you saw him again...what would you say?"

The old man looked distant, sad for a moment, but a smile crept on out. "I'd tell him I love him. Even after all he done. I'd tell him I was sorry I wasn't good enough a dad to keep him decent. I'd tell him?" A weary sigh made its way out of him. "I'd tell him he's got a beautiful baby girl. And it's a shame he'll never know that."

It was odd to hear, the amount of affection in Virgil's voice. Even after all the bad that had been done, he still loved his son. It was odd, but Simon got it.

"Fatherhood." Simon said. "****ed up, ain't it?"

Virgil grinned up at him. "Damn right, kid. Damn right."

Wyatt sat on the front porch of Callum's Ranch, a wet rag wrapped around ice pressed to his scraped face, his dirty cowboy boots kicked up on the railing. Whoever that punk rolling with Kate was had got the drop on him. He admitted it. He'd underestimated the stranger, but it wouldn't happen again.

"You look like hammered ****, kid." Came that familiar, raspy old voice. Wyatt glanced up to see Callum standing over him. The old man was a bit paunchier than he had been when they met and his hair gone silver and thinning, but that scarred face still had that trademark sneer.

Wyatt set his feet down to let the man pass and take the seat beside him. Marks sat down and handed a beer bottle his way. "Wanna tell me what happened?"

Wyatt glanced down at the bottle and then back up a moment before taking it and knocking it back for a good swig. "Saw Katie last night at Todd's."

Callum snickered and took a drink himself. "Katie Wilder. Well, I'll be God damned. How she lookin" these days?"

Wyatt's brows rose. "Oh...she's lookin" plenty good." He admitted. "Runnin" around with some sawed up prick covered in tattoos."

"And he's the one who sandblasted your face with concrete, eh?" Wyatt looked off, his ego hurt worse than his cheek and brow. He twisted his mouth around and spat to one side. "Yeah."

"How, may I ask, in the **** did you let some punk get the best a" you?" Callum asked, a theatrically perplexed expression on his face. "That ain't like you. I thought you was a bad-ass, through n" through. Ain't nothin" Wyatt Marston can't handle. You know that's what I tell ;"em. So, how does some ****-kickin" inked up little **** get one over on YOU?"

Wyatt gave him a look that was pure fire. "I underestimated the sumbitch. Next time I see the ****er, he's dead."

That toothy, scarred sneer came back as Callum nodded slowly. "Hell yeah. That's the man I'm talkin" about." Marks took another pull off the bottle and stared off a moment.

"So. Where's your girl been hidin?"" Callum asked. "She got your old man with her?"

Wyatt shook his head. "No idea. They took off before we could get after "em."

"She talk to anybody?"

Wyatt glanced over and shrugged. "Maisie, I s"pose."

"Dark hair" Brown eyes as big as her tits?" Callum asked.

Wyatt chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, that's the one."

Callum gnawed on the inside of his cheek, thinking. "Maybe you oughta pay her a visit. See what she knows."

"Didn't seem like she-" Wyatt began to say before being cut off.

"Maybe you misunderstood me, Wyatt." Callum said and polished off the beer bottle. "Last night, you got embarrassed in a room full of the very people we need to keep in ****in" line."

Wyatt froze. Cal's voice never rose, but the threat there was absolutely unmistakable.

"That ain't gonna fly." he said shaking his head. "You find that little **** and you ask her how in the Hell Katie Wilder knew we was s"posed to be gone last night. You find out where that little bitch lives. You round up some boys and you go there and you burn that ****in" place to the ground and kill your sumbitch daddy and her boyfriend along with "er."

Wyatt nodded slowly.

"And?"Callum added, pointing upward, hesitating a moment and shaking his finger. "Maisie Travers decides she don't wanna talk" You break her ****in" jaw so everyone knows what happens when you cross us. This ain't kiddie play time. This is the big show, kid. Either these people *fear* us...or we might as well be like them useless pricks in the Sheriff's department."

Callum tilted his head, catching Wyatt's eyes. "You understand me?"

Wyatt turned his head toward the older man and nodded. "I'll take care of it."

Cal nodded, the sneer back in place. "Atta boy. Knew you would.?

The sun was just rising when Maisie finally returned home from a long shift behind the bar. Working that bar was absolutely draining sometimes and last night was no exception. Everything hurt, from the throbbing in her temples, the burning in her eyes from the haze of cigarette smoke, and the aching muscles of her legs from being on her feet all night. She was ready for a long bath and a full-day's sleep to recharged.

That was the plan, anyway.

She stepped into her crummy little apartment, tossing the keys on the table by the door, completely failing to notice the figure sitting in her kitchen. She just walked to the closet and pulled off her hoodie.

It was the drum of fingertips on the cheap wood of the table that snapped her into reality. Maisie's heart nearly leapt out of her chest, a startled yelp escaping her as she rapidly backed up into her front door.

Wyatt sat there, those aqua blue eyes, regarding her with a touch of amusement. "Heya, there, Maisie."

She hadn't seen him in the two days since Katie came back to town. The usually ruggedly handsome man was looking a little worse for wear. One side of his face was scraped and scratched to hell, a nasty bruise circling his left eye. Something inside of her screamed for her to run, but the terror she felt stayed her tired limbs and all she could do was try not to tremble. Besides, he was no doubt armed...and if he so chose, she could not outrun a bullet.

"W-Wyatt...what-what are y-you doin" here?" She stammered.

Wyatt sniffed at the air of the place. A musty, old smell that mingled with the scent of her perfume and beauty products. It probably could use a good cleaning. "Nice place you got here." He said.

Her eyes were darting like mad, probably searching for a weapon to defend herself, he decided. "Thanks?"

A derisive laugh escaped the intruder. "I'm kiddin". It's a ****hole."

Maisie didn't so much as blink in response. Just waited.

"But hey." Wyatt said, holding up his hands. "Ain't my place to judge. You should see my place. Makes this your's look like a royal ****in" palace." He grinned to her, letting that oppressive silence hang between them.

He gave the chair beside him a little kick, pushing it out for her. "Why don't you have a little seat, Maze?"

She hesitated, looking very much like a dog who'd caught one too many beatings in its time to trust him. But those eyes stayed on her, promising all manner of unpleasantness if she refused. Finally, she made her way over and sat.

He kept up that amiable facade, smiling to her from the other side of the table. "So. Hell of a thing the other night, huh' Katie Mae. Runnin" around town again after all these years. You believe that?"

Maisie didn't respond, she just watched him with those wide, terror-filled eyes.

"And on the night we was supposed to head out of town, too! Don't that just beat all?" He asked her, knowing damn well she wouldn't say a word. "Y'see".that there" That bothers me."

Wyatt ran his tongue along his teeth and squinted as if thinking. "How does the illusive beauty...know that' Hm?" He asked her. "How" Unless...well...she knows someone in town. And they mentioned it to her."

Maisie's eyes flicked to the knife block by the stove. She tried to do the math on how quickly she could get to it before he got her. It just wasn't in the cards

"But...that can't be right' Because ain't a soul in town don't know that I been wantin" to know where the hell that little bitch gone to back in the day, right?" He leaned into her field of vision, making her look at him. "Right?"

"R-right?" She nodded quickly.

"So." He nodded with that joyless smile. "I'm not sayin" I don't trust you, Maze. But...I gotta ask. Do you know where she is?"

Maisie shook her head almost desperately. It was the truth. She kept in touch with her, but she had no idea where her friend was living. Kate was being careful.

"No." He nodded. "Damn. That would"a made it easier."

Wyatt stood up slowly, towering over her as she began to whimper, the tears filling her eyes. "Please"."She managed in a strangled whisper.

"Please, what?" He said with a theatrically puzzled expression.

"Don't hurt me?"

Wyatt's lips curled up in a bit of a sneer, not too far removed from Cal's. "You been talkin" to her." He said simply.

His hands ran through his hair as he paced. "God damn it, Maisie! I-" He sighed, like he was just annoyed. "That was stupid."

For a moment, he put on a show of mulling over his next move until finally, he turned to her. "Your phone." Wyatt held out of his hand.

She fumbled through her purse but managed to pull it out, handing it over with shaking hands. Wyatt flipped through her contacts and landed on his target. He smirked and then held the phone up, gesturing with it.

"I'm taking this. I'm gonna have one of my friends in the department run this number. And you're gonna keep your mouth shut." He said. "I hear even a hint that you called her and warned her" It's gonna get very bad for you."

Maisie's eyes clamped shut as she tried not to sob. Wyatt took her gently by the chin. "Hey. Look at me."

Those big brown eyes slowly opened, red with tears. She was a cute little thing, he thought. She had all those tattoos, trying to toughen herself up, but at heart, she was just some scared little girl. All he had to do was press her a bit. Like so many others, she fell in line.

That gentle smile spread across his battered face. "Hey. Smile. I just saved your life.?

He sat on the porch, a sandwich in one hand and a butterfly knife in the other. Simon chewed his lunch, staring out at the mid-day sun. Virgil had gone to meet a contact out North to get the parts for Simon’s car. The old man had insisted he stay behind “just in case”.

The knife whirled around, blade out and then just as quickly, the knife was closed.

“What’s that"” He heard Millie’s voice.

Simon glanced over to find the girl standing in the doorway. He smirked and held up the sandwich. “Ham and salami with swiss.”

Millie gave him an unamused look. “No. That.” she pointed to the knife. The tattooed man glanced to his blade and whirled it shut, offering the object to her. As she reached for it, he moved it out of her reach, looking authoritative. “Be careful with this. It ain’t a toy. Got it"”

“I got it. I’ll be real careful.”

“No lost fingers"” It was more of a command than a question.

“All of ‘em.” Millie nodded firmly and took hold of the folded knife to her.

With two hands, she unlocked it and unfolded the blade. There was a hint of annoyance in her face. “How’d you do it' I wanna do it like you.”

“You want to know how to flip it like that"” He grinned. Millie nodded excitedly. Simon smirked, thinking about it a moment.

“Eh. What the hell.” He shrugged.

“That’s a bad word.” She said. “You shouldn’t say ‘hell’.”

“You’re right. Heck. What the heck.” He nodded to her. “Alright. Close it up.” Simon gestured to her weapon.

Carefully, she folded it shut and held it in front of her, looking a tiny bit awkward.

“Make sure you got that clasp on there.” He said as she double checked. “Good. Now...with your pinky, flip the clasp and give it a flick with your wrist.”

She looked at him like he was a madman. “We said no lost fingers.”

Simon chuckled. “I promise. You’ll be fine. It’s the blunt part of the blade, it won’t cut you.”

Millie gave him SUCH a look. She was going to trust him, but she had her eye on him. She gave it a flick and the knife opened, but the other side of the handle dangled over her knuckles.

“Good job.” He said. “Rotate it around...and then flip it back and catch the other side of the handle.”

Millie did it and gasped, her eyes wide and excited. “I did it! I did the thing!”

Simon glanced around with clenched teeth, though his amusement was impossible to miss. “Easy with that, I don’t wanna get in trouble with your mama.”

Millie hunched up and looked around in mild panic, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Oh right...right. But yaaaaay.”

“To close it, basically do the same thing.” Once again, she did it in slow motion. Simon smirked to the kid. “You’re a natural, kiddo.”

She looked SO proud of herself. “Now,” Simon said. “Can you do it quick" Like all in one motion, no stoppin’"”

Millie’s brow furrowed as she stared at the object in her hand. She was determined. She really went for it and just kind of ended up flopping the thing about.

“Grrrr….” She snarled, frustrated. “I can do this.”

Again and again she tried until finally, in a whirl of motion she had it. A gasp left the little girl as she looked up to him with an ear-to-ear grin. “That was COOL.”

Simon chuckled and took one looked around. “Yeah, that was pretty cool.” He agreed. The events of the past few days went through his mind. Dangerous men were no doubt looking for them. Millie’s father would be one of them. It wasn’t enough to hope for the best right now. They would have to be prepared.

“Millie"” He ventured.

The girl was busy practicing. “Yeah"”

“I want you to hold onto that knife.” He said.

NOW she looked at him like he was insane. “You…you’re giving it to me"”

Simon nodded. “There are bad men out there in the world. Any of them tries to take you, hurt you...whatever. You keep that on you, and first chance you get...you put it right here.” He pointed at the spot just above his knee. “You bury that thing all the way in and you run. Got it"”

Millie looked concerned. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but she wasn’t stupid. Her mother had spent hours crying after the trip into town. Now, their new visitor was giving her a knife and telling her to stab “bad men” who might try to take her.

“Are we in trouble"” she asked him.

Simon did his best to give her a reassuring smile. “No. But it’s good to be prepared, right"”

Millie didn’t look convinced but she nodded anyway.

“You keep practicing. Get real good with it...and remember… don’t tell your mom.”

This ****ing heat, Hank thought, sitting on the side of the road. His banged up 09 Charger was covered in dust and tiny dents. The trace he’d put in wasn’t exact, but it put the pair of them somewhere in the vicinity. Even the occasional gust of wind offered no respite. It just moved the heat around. He lamented the fact that he never got the AC fixed on the damn thing, as he was sweating like whore in church.

He leaned out the window and spit some of the dip out of the side of his mouth, most of it splattering against the outside of the door in big, brown, runny glop. If Hank noticed or cared, he didn’t show it. Behind those dark shades, those wired, sleep-deprived eyes flicked up and down to his phone, the rough location marked on his GPS.

But there was nothing. Just this long, dusty, lone stretch of highway that seemed to go on forever. No side roads, no signs anything had come around these parts in some time.

“Panky.” Wyatt’s voice crackled over his FRS. Hank glared down at the hand-held radio as if it could translate the pure burning hatred he had for that stupid ****ing nickname. Slowly, he brought it up near his lips.

“Yup.” He uttered around the wad bulging behind his lip.

“What’s it looking like out there"” he asked.

“A hundred fifty miles of dirt,farmland, and swamp-nuts with absolute butt-**** nothin’ in every goddamn direction. You"” the skinny man drawled.

“Ain’t nobody out here but us chickens. Keep your eyes open, yeah, Panky?” Wyatt said, the teasing tone in his voice barely evident toward the end.

One last wad of gooey spit splatted against the side of the car as Hank leaned out before he put it into drive. He squinted ahead, just barely making out something in the distance. Through the wavering heat, he almost thought it was a mirage. But, as he pressed the accelerator, he began to realize it was actually there. From the best he could see, it was likely a truck.

Best to keep his distance, he thought. It wouldn’t do to spook his prey. The Charger rolled along down the dusty road, his brain formulating a plan even as he pursued them. There was only one place they could be heading.

Sterling was about 30 miles down the road from Noble. The nearest semblance of society for a couple hundred, Give or take a rest stop or two.

So, hang back it was. The further he went, the more he questioned just where in the hell it was they had come from. There was no road on the map, that was for damn sure, and this ****hole wasn’t exactly crying for development.

The car slowed as he came to the “road”. It could hardly be called a “road”, in reality. Just a gravel path that lead off into the distance. Hank glanced to the shrinking dot down the road and turned his gaze back to the drive beside him.

The odds that it had actually been them were slim...but something inside Hank told him he was on the right track. He turned the wheel and headed down the path. If his hunch was correct Hank was about to have himself some fun.

Hank parked the car off the side of the road behind a few trees, keeping his distance from the farm. If they saw him, it could end up a firefight he didn’t have control over. That meant things would get messy. He didn’t want messy. Hank Austin liked to have a plan. To know the exits, the hiding spots. See the target in their comfort zone. He viewed it like directing a scene. He had to have complete control over everything.

No, he would keep his distance and watch. He settled into the tall grass, looking out at the cozy house surrounded by crops, alongside a large barn. He barely took his eyes off the place as he unpacked a rifle. He could see at least one figure moving from here, his hands pulling down the weapon’s tripod. At this range there wasn’t much to see.

Hank shouldered his rifle and leaned in, eye to the scope. His vision enhanced, he could now see who that figure was. Tight, white t-shirt clinging to a slim, muscular form covered in tattoos. That must have been the sumbitch roughed up Wyatt. Hank breathed a laugh. He wasn’t intimidated. All that muscle and tough-guy exterior wouldn’t matter when Hank got ahold of him. It never did.

A slash of a knife, the squeeze of a trigger, and they all crumpled, bleeding and wondering how the skinny little junky had brought them down and where the hell he came from. The hint of movement caught his attention and he swiveled the rifle to the left.

There she was. Katie Mae Wilder. Looking damn fine, if he said so himself. Litt’e black tanktop, long brown hair tinged with blonde swept behind her ears, and a pair aviators resting on top of her head. It was going to be a shame to kill her. He’d always liked her. Wicked sense of humor, kind. And smart. The average IQ among the women in Noble seemed to be in the double digits, he often mused. Katie Mae was sharp.

Yes. Killing her would be a shame. But it wasn’t personal. It was business.

If he could isolate the pair of them, he could work quickly. Wait ‘til nightfall...cause a distraction. It would be important to get him out of the picture while he did her in. Then when he came back he could-

The sudden movement from the door caught his attention. What the hell, he thought' There were supposed to be 3 of them, sure, but who the hell was it driving on down the road" But the figure who stepped out wasn’t an old cowboy. Wasn’t even an adult.

She was a tiny child. Maybe 7 or 8. Brown hair, cute little face that reflected so much of her mama. But those eyes...those were entirely her daddy’s. And that blonde bruiser was most assuredly NOT her father. No, he’d seen them all too often.

Well, that complicated matters. He wasn’t above killing a kid. Wouldn’t be the first time. But this was Wyatt’s kid. He’d want to hear about this. Suddenly, so much made sense about Kate’s sudden disappearing act.

He fished around by his belt and brought the radio to his lips. “Hey, Wyatt"”

“What’s up, Panky"”

Hank practically growled before responding. “I found ‘em.”

“No ****"! Where they at?”

“Hold up. There’s somethin’ you should know.”

The old pickup rumbled to a stop upon the dirt driveway, the suspension creaking as it settled. Virgil’s trip out North had been uneventful, but fruitful. A couple beers, a cigar, a chat between old friends, and a bite to eat later and he had a restored radiator in the bed of his truck, ready to be installed in Simon’s car. An easy enough task. And then the boy would be gone.

The setting sun cast its orange glow over the farm, a bit of warmth still clinging in the air. Virgil’s boots clomped against the dirt driveway leading to the house. The warm light inside, inviting as ever. Even from out there, he could hear them inside. The muffled sounds of Simon talking followed by Kate and Millie laughing. It had been awhile since the place had felt so homey.

Strangers came and went over the years. Some friendly, some withdrawn and quiet. Simon, however, was different. For the first time, Virgil was genuinely sorry to see one of their visitors go. He was a good worker, never complained and always did his part. He was respectful, not only to Virgil himself, but to the girls. He was good to Kate, and sweet with Millie. Better than anyone had any right to expect of a drifter, picked up on the side of the road. Yes, Vigril would miss the boy.

A lopsided grin formed upon his mustachioed face, the door closing behind him. Simon glanced up from the ground pot he was stirring, that confident smirk on his lips. “Hey, Pops! Just in time for my famous chili. Pop a squat.”

Virgil glanced to Kate questioningly. She just shrugged. “He insisted.”

The old cowboy sniffed a laugh. “Famous, huh"” He asked making his way to the dinner table. “You sure that ain’t INfamous, kid"”

“Well, none of you have heart valves, right"” Simon deadpanned before the smirk returned. “Used to have to make it with whatever meat I could find. Didn’t have this fine ground beef like y’all got. But y’know what? You’d be surprised how much rat meat...tastes nothing at all like beef.”

Millie giggled, but clearly thought about it a moment and followed up with “Eeeeeeew…”

Simon pointed at her with his spoon. “Hey now, what’s the old sayin’" Hunger is the best sausage"”

Kate chuckled and shook her head. “Close enough.”

Simon mixed some rotini into a bowl with the pasta and brought the dish over to let them fill up their bowls. He wasn’t exactly a world class chef, but this, he could do. Virgil helped himself to a few spoonfulls, loading himself up. Simon took a seat across from him, cracking the top off a bottle of beer.

“How’d it go"” He asked before taking a swig.

Virgil finished chewing and swallowed, a bit surprised that it actually tasted good. “I got what we were lookin’ for.”

“Cool. Wanna get ‘er put in after dinner"”

Simon might not have noticed the looks on the girls’ faces, but Virgil did. They were hurting. He glanced over and back to him and just nodded. The uncomfortable silence that followed hung over the entire room.

“You’re just gonna leave"” Millie said, finally breaking the quiet. He voice was quiet, full of sorrow. It wasn’t often she got make new friends, and now her newest friend was about to abandon her...and it didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest.

Simon paused, mid-chew and glanced to Kate, silently asking for help. But she couldn’t even meet his gaze. She just lowered those bright, brilliant eyes, fiddling with a bit of meat in her bowl.

“I have to.” he finally managed.

“No you don’t!” Millie said, getting worked up. “You can stay here! You don’t have to go!”

“Mill..” Simon said gently.

“My name is Millie!” She demanded, tears beginning to form in her eyes.

Virgil eyed the man. God, he was trying to be so careful. He truly felt for him. He knew Simon never wanted to hurt them. He knew Simon was just being decent with Katie and Millie...but the old cowboy knew this day was coming, eventually.

“Millie. I have a life back home. I have to go.”

Millie was NOT having it. She shoved her bowl away and got off her chair. “Fine! Go! Go away and don’t ever come back!” She shrieked at him, a full blown sobbing mess. That pain was reflected in his eyes as well. Virgil knew the story of what happened to his daughter, it wasn’t hard to imagine that there were reminders there. Bits of the past that had come and hit the boy in a way he had not expected.

“Come on, Millie, don’t do this.” Simon pleaded.

“No! I hate you! Go away!” Millie screamed, storming off. She halted by the stairs and turned to him. “And your chili sucks!”

Well. That was an exit, the old man thought.

Once again that silence settled over everything. Simon pushed away from the table, but Kate stopped him. She held out a palm.

“Don’t.”

It was one word, but it held so much behind it. Anger, pain, confusion, longing, disappointment. It all swirled around inside her like a hurricane.

Simon looked to her pleadingly. “Kate…”

It was the look on her face that stopped him. It wasn’t rage, it wasn’t anger. It was hurt. He had hurt her and Millie, just as he had said he wouldn’t. Virgil knew it would happen. He’d seen it coming a mile down the road. He watched as Kate went after her daughter, leaving the two men alone.

The hood slammed shut with a clang. The installation of the radiator was easy enough. An hour or two of work and they were good to go. Frankly, Simon was glad for the distraction. When Virgil suggested they get to work, it was like a godsend. The look Kate had given him and Millie’s blow up lingered in his mind, and stabbed at his heart. He’d seen it before, a few times...but that was a long time ago. Cici had had her share of blow ups when she was...there.

God, Millie reminded him of the little girl he’d lost. That sweet, stubborn, innocence. The bold, sassy personality. He knew she hadn’t meant what she said. He wasn’t even mad. All he wanted to do was go in there and tell her he would stay and everything was going to be okay. Of course, it wasn’t true. Mille was not his daughter. He would leave and likely never see her or Kate again. It wasn’t the first time he tried to comfort himself in a lie, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

No. He would feel this guilt. Own it.

“Accept it, Simon.” He told himself. “You’re abandoning them to a *****y situation that you made worse. Go back to your life. Go back home. But don’t forget what you did here.”

“You’re up here, ain’t ya"” Virgil said, taking a swig off his beer bottle and tapping his forehead. That wry grin upturned a mustachioed lip. “I can almost hear ya thinkin’.”

Normally, he’d throw off a smart-ass quip and smirk his way through it. Instead, he looked Virgil in the eye. “I hate doing this. Leavin’ y’all to fend for yourselves while they’re out on the hunt for ya.”

Virgil tossed him a bottle. “You done enough for us, kid.”

Simon sniffed a laugh and leaned against a table, twisting off the cap. “I did" Guess gettin’ your kid and his buddies on your ass is help, huh"”

“You think that’s all you did"” Virgil tilted his head. “You made them girls happier ‘n I seen ‘em in years. You put in a lotta good work here. You been a good friend, kid. I don’t think Katie woulda made it home that night if you weren’t there.”

Simon’s brow furrowed as he took a pull. “They were only there because of me.”

Virgil just looked amused, his brow quirking. “Ah, hell. Katie woulda gone anyway.”

That, Simon did not buy for a second. He looked to the old cowboy incredulously. “You’d have let her go"” he asked, doubtful.

He shrugged. “I might bark a lot, but I ain’t the head dog around here. Once that girl puts her mind to doin’ somethin’ ain’t nothin’ you can do to stop ‘er.”

That brought a smile to his face. “Yeah...that sounds about right, actually.” Simon said with a chuckle, pulling out his pack of smokes..

“What you gonna do when you get home, kid"” Virgil asked.

Simon thought a moment as he lit up, offering a shrug. “I dunno. Probably crawl into bed with the lady for a month…”

The old cowboy laughed at that and shook his head.

“Then, I guess...find myself a fight, make some money. Maybe get into some trouble.”

Even as he said it, Simon didn’t fully believe in it. Judging from the look on his face, Virgil didn’t either.

“You’re gonna go back to that"” He asked, a hint of disappointment in his eyes.

“Yeah, I mean...what else is there"”

Virgil eyed him, silent for a long time. “You’re still young. It ain’t too late to change. You just gotta want it.”

“Maybe it IS what I want.” Simon said.

The corners of Virgil’s lips tugged upward, that knowing look in his eyes. “I don’t think it is. Not anymore.”

He was right. Fighting just to dull the pain inside. Getting completely obliterated and drowning his sorrows in pointless violence and sex...it wasn’t him. Not anymore. Not since the fire and Tahlia. There had to be more. To life and to him. When he got home, he’d find out what exactly that was.

Simon took one last swig of his beer and walked to the garbage can. “What about you, Pops" What’s your plan"”

Virgil shrugged and opened his arms, gesturing around him. “Same thing as always.” He told the younger man.

“Just gonna kick around here"” Simon asked.

“Don’t see why not. Worked so far, ain’t it"” Virgil said.

Simon chuckled and glanced over his shoulder. “Kate on board with this plan' Stayin’ around here, hiding out forever"”

“It’s safe. It’ll have to be enough.” Virgil posited.

Simon gave him one last glance. “Sometimes bein’ safe ain’t enough.”

He opened the can and tossed the bottle in. That was when he noticed it. The rows of corn were shifting. Somebody was moving through them. Alarms were going off in his head like mad. He knew immediately what this was. Simon whipped around. “GET DOWN!”

Almost as if on cue, the rifles opened. Automatic weapons fire tore through the wooden walls of the barn, shattering glass jars and sending splinters flying as the bullets pinged off of the car with sparks. The two men dove for cover, keeping low to the ground.

Virgil reached for a pistol that wasn’t at his hip. The old man cursed himself for not having it. It was sitting on a counter not far away, but it was right in the line of fire. The shotgun, he thought urgently and crawled on his elbows towards the other side of the room.

Simon glanced up and moved toward the car, reaching out for the handle before pulling away as a bullet hit the sheet metal. He hissed through his teeth and went again, yanking the door open, and pulling a pair of pistols out from under the driver’s seat. He thumbed off the safeties on both and got ready as the automatic fire stopped.

One of Callum’s goons was heard stomping up toward the door. A voice yelled out “No, wait!” But the lummox kicked in the door. Simon’s guns rang out two shots a piece, tearing through the man’s chest and sending him stumbling back into the dirt.

Virgil racked his shotgun and blind-fired a few times over the counter and out the busted window toward where the voice had come from, sending them scattering behind a tractor for cover. The automatics must have dried up, Simon thought, because the response was simply small-arms and shotguns.

Simon rose to a knee and moved toward the Virgil, pressing up against the wall. He tucked away one of the guns as the weapons fire ripped into the barn. “You alright"!”

“I’m fine! Get to the girls!” Virgil barked before another blind-fire out the window.

Simon grit his teeth and looked toward the house, formulating a plan. “I’ll draw their fire, you take ‘em out, yeah?”

“I got your back, kid!” Virgil yelled to him.

Simon wasn’t completely sure of the plan, but it would have to do. It was the best they had. He readied himself to run, evening out his breath.

“Simon!” Virgil called to him, the young man glancing back. “Be good.” He said with a nod and a smirk.

Simon took one last look at the old man, mustered a smile and got ready. Millie. Kate. They were his goal. He only hoped he wasn’t too late.

“GO!” Virgil hollered.

Simon ran as fast as he possibly could, raising one pistol and firing blindly toward the shooters. He could hear the bullets whizzing past him as he sprinted. One by one the shooters went quiet, Virgil taking them down with precise blasts of his shotgun before they figured out that they were focused on the wrong target. He ran until his lungs burned as much as his legs. When he reached the house, his heart sank. The door was wide open. With one final push, he leapt into the air, diving into the house. He hit the tile of the kitchen floor with his shoulder, sliding to a stop, and kicked the door closed behind him.

Gunfire continued outside, Virgil doing his damndest to hold them off. From the sounds of it, he was giving better than he was getting. Good, Simon thought. Take ‘em down, old man. He checked his weapon and surroundings, stepping forth.

Simon moved through the house slowly, his pistol raised and at the ready. The house was basically untouched. But he knew he wasn’t alone. Adrenaline continued to course through his veins as he rounded a corner. Lyle Marks lay dead on the ground in a pool of blood, the exit wound of a shotgun protruding from his back.

Well, he thought. One less to deal with. His eyes trailed further up and once again, his breath caught in his throat. Kate and another man were on the ground surrounded by the remains of the upstairs banister, both unmoving, both injured. He seemed to have taken the majority of the damage from the fall, but she wasn’t unscathed. Blood trickled down one side of her forehead and from the gash at her chin. For a moment he wasn’t certain if she was dead or alive.

“Kate.” He called out in a hushed tone. If there was another in the house, he’d rather not give away his position. “Kate!”

A swell of relief filled him as her eyes fluttered open. The dazed fog was written in her gaze, but she was at least conscious. She barely seemed to register him as he cautiously approached, eyes darting to every window and door. Finally, he made it to her side, crouching low. He reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Kate. Look at me. Can you move"”

It took a moment, but she managed to push herself up with a pained groan.

“The **** took you so long"” She grumbled.

Simon smiled and tried to help her up as the door behind him burst open. One of the gunmen had made it past Virgil. Simon spun about-face, but the shot rang out before he could get his arm up to shoot. Searing pain bloomed as a poorly aimed bullet tore through flesh, grazed his arm, his body instinctively jerking to one side. His shoulder slamming against a wall and his weapon clattering across the floor.

Kate let out a shriek and scurried as quick as she could to cover, hiding behind an alcove at the front door.

Simon tried to right himself, but the gunman was charging forth, firing off rounds like a mad man. He barely got out of the way in time as the bullets pocked against the wall in shower of dust and tiny debris. Simon hit the floor on his good shoulder, reaching to the small of his back for his backup weapon. A practiced, precise motion brought the weapon to bear upon his attacker, discharging a few rounds toward the kitchen, but the shooter had taken cover.

Simon cursed under his breath, scrambling up onto his feet. As quickly and quietly as he could, he moved toward the kitchen, pressing up against the wall and waiting. He could hear his target breathing heavily on the other side of the wall, steeling himself to take his next shot.

The gunman turned the corner to find only the still body of Emmett waiting on the other side. Confusion and panic took over his face of one short-lived moment. Simon moved quickly, pushing the weapon upward, the shooter accidentally sending out a few shots before Simon put his shoulder into the man’s chest, driving him backwards. The barrel of the tatted fighter’s glock buried in his stomach, pumping round after round into the man until the slammed against the sink counter. The gunman crumbled to the ground, but Simon wasn’t taking chances. Not tonight. He put one last shot into the man’s head, sending blood and brain matter all over the wood and linoleum counters like a grotesque Jackson Pollock.

His boots thumped out of sync, the bleeding wound on his leg causing a limp. Before, killing the girl was an unpleasant aspect of a job. But now? That little bitch stabbed him. Oh, now it was about so much more. He was going to enjoy this.

He could hear them whimpering in the next room, Kate’s Mares Leg clenched tight in his hands. He’d kill them with the very thing meant to protect.them. Hank kinda enjoyed the poetic justice of the idea.

Kate was in there trying shush the kid. As if it would matter. He wasn’t deaf. And neither were they. They had to hear him. Let that step-thump, step-thump, step-thump be the sound of their approaching end. Let them feel every second of terror, knowing there was nothing they could do. Let them die hopeless.

He rounded the doorway, relishing every moment, a smile on his bloodied face as he saw them. Kate stood before the closet like a goalie, a baseball bat clutched in her hands. She looked like a wild animal, her eyes wide and feral. Even in that state, bloodied and frenzied, she was a looker, Hank thought. It would be a shame that nobody would be able recognize her face when he was done with her.

“Well, well, well. Hi there, Katie Mae.” He sneered through blood stained teeth. “Been a while.”

She held that bat out like a knight with a sword. “You stay away from my baby, you sick ****!”

Hank tisked and waved a finger. “Such bad words from Mommy.”

“I said get AWAY!” Kate shrieked, swinging wild at him. Hank leaned out of the bat’s path and pivoted, slamming the stock of the Mare’s Leg right into her stomach. Kate let out a breathless, pained grunt and dropped to her knees.

Hank looked down at the agonized mother with pitiless eyes.

“Say goodbye, Mommy.”

Kate spat at him. “Go **** yourself.” She snarled.

Hank smirked and nodded. He respected her. Going out like a champ. He racked the lever of the shotgun and rose the barrel to her forehead. She glared up at him...defiant to the end.

Virgil was out of ammo, but the return fire had ceased. He dropped his weapon to the ground and stepped outside. He could hear all manner of commotion from inside the house. Katie and Millie were in trouble and that didn’t speak well for Simon.

He stepped out into the driveway between the house and barn, the cool night breeze hitting the old man’s skin. That was when he heard it. The hammer of the dead man’s gun being pulled.

Virgil froze where he stood. Slowly, cast his gaze to his left. Wyatt stood there, pistol pointed his way. The boy had gone a bit grey in the hair, he noticed. His skin a sickly, pallid white, like a man who had seen a ghost.

“Son.” Virgil managed hoarsely.

Wyatt swallowed hard. “You should have stayed in the barn.”

Virgil turned to face his boy, arms spread to show he was unarmed.

“Turn around.” Wyatt ordered him.

Virgil shook his head slowly. “No, kid. You don’t get off that easy.” He said. “You gonna kill me, you’re gonna look me in the eye.”

“You think I won’t?” Wyatt blustered, taking a step forward.

Virgil stood his ground, watching the boy he’d raised pointing a firearm at him, his heart aching enough he thought it might kill him before Wyatt could even pull that trigger.

“I’m sorry, Wyatt.” He said. “I’m sorry I failed you.”

“Shut up.” Wyatt snarled.

“I tried, kid. I really did. I’m sorry it weren’t enough.” Virgil stared into his eyes, tears welling in his own.

“I said shut up!” Wyatt shouted. “You took her from me! You took my baby!”

The old man shook his head. “She was scared a’ you. Scared a’ this.” Virgil explained, gesturing his way.

Wyatt wanted to say something, but the words never came. Virgil could see tears rolling down his son’s eyes.

M“Wyatt. Son. This ain’t you.” He whispered.

“Yes it is.” Wyatt said stubbornly. But Virgil could hear and see the doubt inside of him.

“You’re better ‘n this.”

“Shut the **** up! I ain’t lettin’ you **** with me!” Wyatt shouted.

Virgil kept still, steady. “You don’t have to do this.”

Wyatt’s chest heaved with confused, nervous breaths. He said nothing just trying not to break.

“Put down that gun, son. We can make this right.”

His son’s breath quivered, tears streaming down his cheeks. “It’s too late.” He said with a shake of his head.

“No it ain’t.” Virgil dared take a step forward. “It’s never too late. You done some bad things, but it ain’t too late to make it right.”

Wyatt pointed the gun half heartedly. “Stop.” He said meekly.

Virgil reached out. “Just give me the gun, son. We’ll end this together. Me and you. Come on, kid.”

Virgil’s fingers were nearly to the pistol. Wyatt simply couldn’t pull that trigger. Not again.

“Dad…” he whispered.

Virgil’s fingers gently wrapped around the weapon, and Wyatt finally let go. Virgil pulled the weapon from his hand and took his son in his arms. Wyatt gripped the old man tight, holding on like he might float away if he let go. All the pain and anguish from over the years poured out of him as he clung to his father.

“It’s alright, boy. It’s alright.” Virgil soothed his son.

Wyatt pulled back finally, seeing his father for who he was for the first time in a long, long time. The love in the old man’s eyes transcending every awful thing he’d done.

And then, the shot rang out.

The sun rose over farm the next morning. Simon, showered, bandaged and in fresh clothes, shoveled the last load of dirt upon Virgil’s grave. He was buried at the foot of the prairie on his own property. It seemed appropriate. Wyatt, however, lay in a mass grave out in the prairie with Callum Marks and his sons and goons, never having even laid eyes upon his daughter.

Toews wiped the sweat from his brow, his last hard day’s work on the farm. The entire time, he couldn’t get the sound of Millie’s horrified shriek from his mind. The monster inside of him had gotten loose and the redneck Kate identified as “Hank”, had taken the full brunt of its rage. But afterwards, the girl wouldn’t speak to him. Wouldn’t so much as look at him. He’d changed in her eyes, and it ate him up inside. What she’d seen, she would carry with her for the rest of her life, and it was his fault for not keeping control.

While he worked, Kate packed. The farm was no longer their home. It was just the place where Virgil had died and bad men had tried to kill Millie and her mama. Where a good man had turned into something that would haunt the girl’s dreams for years to come.

Simon hammered a cross into the ground over Virgil’s grave and finally stepped back, giving the old cowboy a moment of silence. Simon wasn’t a praying man, but for Virgil, he could at least give him that.

Kate stepped up beside him, bruised, scraped and a butterfly bandage adorning her left eyebrow. She watched Virgil’s grave in silence standing beside Simon. She reached out and took his hand, clasping it tight as she said a little prayer for Virgil...and one for Simon.

After a moment, she released his hand, the pair of them ambling toward the house. “She alright"” Simon asked.

Kate eyed the gravel, giving a rock a little kick as she did. “I think she will be. Eventually.” She glanced at him with a weak little smile. “What about you?”

Simon smirked bitterly, hand stuffed into his pockets. “I always am.”

She gazed at him doubtfully. “I don’t think that’s true.”

His smirk faded, his eyes lowering just slightly. “You might be right.”

“What are you gonna do"” Kate asked.

“I don’t know. Get back into town. Spend a few days in bed with a beautiful blonde I got waiting for me back home.” He grinned. “Just see where life takes me.”

A knowing little smirk crossed Kate’s lips. “Maybe go see a doctor before you go hopping into bed. Don’t want to break a hip.”

Simon chuckled. “Yeah, might have to do that. What about you?”

Kate glanced over. “Me"”

“Yeah. What’s next"”

Kate stopped in her tracks and looked out over the farm that had been her hiding spot for 8 years. She gave up everything to eek out a life spent in fear of even a single misstep. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she realized what this all meant. Wyatt was gone. Callum was gone.

“I’m going home.” She said, turning to Simon. Kate Wilder stood a little taller in that moment, a weight lifted from her shoulders.

The tatted fighter smiled brightly to her. He took in the image of her in that moment, a proud, strong, confident...and most of all...free woman about to embark on a new path, a new life. For now, the guilt faded.

The pair of them glanced to the truck where Millie sat. Kate glanced at him and opened her mouth to speak, but he stopped her. Simon knew. He knew she didn’t want to see him or say goodbye. He even understood why.

Her smile was fleeting, replaced with concern and bit of sadness. The pair just stood there and stared, neither daring to speak. Kate reached up and carefully wrapped her arms around him, embracing him tightly, her eyes squeezed shut.

“Thank you.” She whispered. “Thank you for everything.”

“Don’t.” He responded. “None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for me. Virgil would still be alive.”

“Or we’d all be dead.” She corrected him. “You saved us. We get a second chance. That’s on you, Simon.”

He wasn’t entirely convinced of that, but he didn’t argue.

“Sooner or later...you’re gonna have to forgive yourself.” She said, pulling back. “You deserve to.”

Simon forced a smile and nodded. “You just take care of that girl.”

“With all my life.” she assured him. “Goodbye, Simon Toews.”

“Goodbye, Kate Wilder.” He responded warmly.

She leaned up and planted a kiss on his cheek. “And Simon….”

“Yeah"”

“Be good.”

Simon watched as she released him and walked over to the truck, climbing inside with her daughter. She pulled down a pair of aviators from the visor and slid them on, a blissful little grin on her lips as she turned on the engine. Kate took Millie under one arm and kissed the top of her head. She put the truck into gear and head on out of his life for good.

Simon smiled to himself, walking over to his bullet-ridden car. It still ran perfectly, it just wasn’t pretty. It suited him, he decided. The battered fighter climbed into the driver’s seat and fired the old Charger up. With his last moment on the farm, he turned and looked out to Virgil’s grave, silently said goodbye, leaving the farm, the death, and a part of himself he’d carried for years behind. He didn’t know where the road would take him, or what fate had in store. But he would meet it nonetheless.

The makeshift cross stood strong as the wind blew across the prairie lands, Virgil in his home, and Wyatt much like in life, on the outskirts, his father just out of reach until the Prairie eventually reclaimed them both.

Simon threw the car into gear and drove off, leaving behind a trail of dust in the afternoon sun.

Oh bury me not on the lone prairie Where the coyotes wail and the wind blows free And when I die, don't bury me 'neath the Western sky on the lone prairie

Oh bury me not on the lone prairie These words came soft and painfully From the pallid lips of a youth who lay On his dying bed at the break of day

But we buried him there, on the lone prairie Where the rattlesnakes hiss and the wind blows free In a shallow grave, no one to grieve 'neath the Western sky on the lone prairie

Oh bury me not on the lone prairie These words came soft and painfully From the pallid lips of a youth who lay On his dying bed at the break of day On his dying bed at the break of day

William Elliot Whitmore-Bury Me Not on The Lone Prairie