Blood Trails Through Badlands (Preview)

Prologue

Jack Fletcher stood in front of his ranch. He called Presidio home, a border town of Americans and Mexicans looking for work. He had his arms crossed, staring across the plains, hoping his son, Finn, made it to town with no trouble.

He’d been living in the home he built with his own two hands with his wife, Brenda, and his son, ever since he left his old life behind. And what a difference it was! He’d been a bandito, a ruffian, and tough guy who went through life throwing punches and stealing to get by. He’d belonged to a notorious gang, regularly rampaging through Texas and the upper sections of Mexico. He had been a dangerous man.

However, he’d given all that up upon meeting Brenda. Their meeting seemed ordained by God. The way he saw her across the street as he came out of a bank he and his gang brothers had just robbed. Their eyes met. He remembered she didn’t even look scared. Nor did she look impressed, which would have been better. There was just something about that look she gave him. It penetrated his very soul.

That was the beginning of the end of his bandit behavior. From that point on, all he could think about was finding the woman with the raven hair, the deep brown eyes, the long, luxurious lashes that made his heart flutter.

He returned to the same town that night, without the red bandana covering his nose and mouth. He wasn’t recognized as the bandit that had aided in the bank robbery. He walked around town, staying out of the way, hidden in the shadows, searching for the woman who had captured his heart.

Jack chuckled, remembering how he’d pondered what he would say. He hadn’t known what he could say that wouldn’t frighten her away. It turned out she’d been feeling the same way. When she saw him, she approached him. She asked him his name, before he could even get a word out.

Jack remembered their first words.

After he told her his name in a hushed tone, she leaned closer and whispered, “You were with the banditos who robbed the bank.”

Against his better judgement, Jack nodded. “Yes,” he whispered back.

Her smile was radiant and beautiful. “I won’t tell anyone,” she responded.

Jack broke from his memory when he saw a man coming toward the house from the sparse wooded area to the east. The man was stumbling as if drunk.

Jack braced himself. He backed up to the door, opened it slightly without turning around and called in through the space.

“Brenda? Get me my rifle. A stranger approaches.”

Seconds later, Brenda appeared, handing the rifle through the door.

“Close this door and lock it. Don’t open it unless I tell you to.”

Brenda nodded, doing as he instructed.

It wasn’t until the man came closer that Jack saw him clearly, giving him a jolt of recognition. He scanned the area for others, but his old friend was alone. He looked near death, his clothes in rags, blood-soaked in places, his face and exposed limbs beaten black and blue.

He clutched the rifle tight for a moment before setting it against the left side pole holding up the porch roof. Jack was down the five wooden porch steps in a flash, running to meet the man.

“Santiago!” he exclaimed, grabbing onto the man, who seemed to fling himself into Jack’s arms. “What has happened to you, my old friend? Come with me. Come.”

He held Santiago up and helped him to the house, up the stairs and to the door.

“Brenda! Open the door!”

It was immediately unlocked and pulled open swiftly. Brenda’s dark eyes were wide when she caught sight of the battered man.

“My goodness!” she breathed, covering her mouth with one hand. “What happened? Who… who is he?”

“He is an old friend. Yes, a member of the gang I was in when you met me. Get him some clean water and a chunk of bread to eat.”

“My friend, my friend,” Santiago gasped, grabbing hold of Jack’s arm. “You must not trouble yourself. I have come to give you this.”

Jack hadn’t even noticed the folder Santiago was clutching until his friend handed it over. He took it and handed it directly to Brenda. “Take this and hide it.” He knew she would take the folder to the well out back and tuck it in the roof where they kept their stash of money.

When she was gone, Jack sat next to Santiago. “You’ve been shot,” he remarked, knowing Santiago was already aware. “Please let me help you.”

“You cannot,” the man replied breathlessly. “I am done for. Our old gang leader, he wants the folder back. He has followed me this whole time as I ran. I tried to lose him but… but…”

Jack’s chest tightened. “How far away is he, Santiago?”

Santiago shuddered mightily, slipping from the chair to the floor, onto his knees, his shoulders pitching forward. Blood dripped onto the floor from his mouth. Jack jolted with alarm.

“Santiago! Santiago!”

Brenda came up behind him and dropped to her knees. After a moment, she looked up at her husband. “He’s dead,” she said, fear in her voice, as she drew back.

The sound of horses met Jack’s ears. He straightened, eyes wide, heart thumping hard in his chest. Brenda did the same, saw the look on her husband’s face and recoiled in terror.

“Brenda…” Jack wanted to wrap his arms around her and fly away. “My sweet, dearest, loving wife. My old friend has brought death to our door.”

Brenda instantly began to sob, her body wracking with grief and terror. “Finn!” she cried out. “Finn! Finn!”

Jack moved from her side and crouched by the window, lifting up just enough to see over the sill. The group of men on horseback thundering toward their small country home looked as fierce and dangerous as they had when he was one of them.

“Jack Fletcher!”  Chills erupted on his arms and trailed down his spine when he heard the leader call his name. He remembered that sound. He remembered that voice. “Come out! Give us what that traitor Santiago has brought to you!”

Jack lifted the window slightly, yelling through it, “I don’t know what you mean! I have nothing to give you!”

He ducked when a bullet shattered the glass, barely missing his face as the large shards flew past him. Brenda cried out. He spun around. To his horror, he saw that one of the arrow-like glass pieces had pierced her dress, embedding itself in her stomach. Blood instantly covered the lower part of her dress. Her breath shuddered as she reached out for him with one hand, covering the bloody glass in her mid-section.

“Brenda!” He threw himself at her, scooting to the side, folding his hand around the glass. It cut into his skin.

“No!” she breathed shakily. “Don’t pull it out. I am already dead.”

“No, no, no.” Jack sobbed, lowering his head to her shoulder. “This cannot be the end! It cannot be the end!”

Brenda slumped forward, as Santiago had done. Jack’s tears streamed down his face. Moments later, bullets pierced the walls of the home he’d built. He soon heard the crackling of fire and smoke filled his lungs.

The last thing he saw was his dear Brenda, slumped underneath the table. The last thing he thought about was his beloved son, who would come home to see the devastation.

“God, take care of him,” he whispered. Coughing violently, he fell near his wife and took his last breath.

Chapter One

Finn stood still, dazed and numb, staring at the two freshly dug and covered graves. Two stone crosses at the heads, the names of his parents embedded into the rock. His mind had been in a fog ever since he saw his family home burning in the distance and couldn’t reach it fast enough. The embers of his father’s work still burned behind him, the smell of ash still present even after nearly a week.

He heard the hum of words behind him. His uncle, his only living relative, was among them. Finn wasn’t interested in greeting his uncle or receiving comfort from him. He’d abandoned Brenda, Finn’s mother, when she married his father.

His heart was broken when he discovered the burned home and the three dead bodies inside. He didn’t know who the third one was; his body was so badly burned that the sheriff couldn’t ID him.

Whoever he was, Finn blamed him for the death of his parents. Yet he couldn’t help feeling like it was partially his own fault they were dead. He’d left them and taken more than two hours in town to get their supplies after he’d stopped at the cafe to see his friend, Melody, who was a serving girl there. He’d taken an entire extra hour to drink a beer with some farmers in the saloon. They’d had a good time, laughing and telling jokes so when he left, he’d been in a good mood. He couldn’t wait to tell his father some of the jokes he’d heard, though he didn’t plan to tell them to his mother. She was a female and much too sensitive for some of them.

The anger boiling under the surface was a raging hot fire, not unlike the one that had consumed his parents and the stranger and most of the inside of the house. One wall was left standing, as if the fire had shied away from it on purpose. The loft where he’d slept was no longer there, only a pile of ash was left there. The ladder was still there, standing as if it had refused to give up.

A hand settled on his shoulder. He turned to see his friend, Jonathan, one of the young men he’d grown up with in Presidio.

“My heart bleeds for you, friend,” Jonathan said.

“Thank you,” Finn replied, moving his eyes back to his parents’ graves.

“What are your plans? Do you need somewhere to live? My home is open to you. I’ve spoken to Lily. She is fine with you staying with us until you recover and build a new house here, if that’s what you plan to do.”

“Who do you think that man was?” Finn asked. Jonathan looked confused.

“Who are you talking about?” His inquiry came out sounding stiff.

“The man who was found in my house, in the ashes, his body so close to my mother’s. Who was he?” He finished with the question barely escaping his lips.

“I don’t know,” Jonathan answered honestly. “No one knows. It’s a mystery.”

Finn gritted his teeth, speaking through them. “I believe he was a drifter. He came to rob my parents and when that failed, he killed them.”

“But who killed him? Who set the house on fire?”

“I don’t know,” Finn grumbled. “But whoever he was, it was his fault. He caused this. I’ll find out who he is. I’ll find his family and do to them what he did to my parents.”

Jonathan squeezed his shoulder and removed his hand. “I know you’re angry, Finn. I know you want to seek revenge somehow. But you don’t know who he was. No one does. And even if you found out somehow, why should his family who must pay for his crimes? He may have also been a victim. It might have been bandits who did that to your parents and he just happened to be visiting. His family doesn’t deserve your wrath.”

“Then who does?” Finn demanded, the words exploding from him. “Who is going to pay for this! Someone has to!” He wanted to say more but his anger was a heat he could barely stand, obstructing the words.

“I’m sorry, my friend,” Jonathan repeated. “I really am.”

To Finn’s surprise, Jonathan turned to face him, moving Finn at the same time. He pulled him into a strong hug, pounding Finn on the back. “Your friends are always here for you. Whatever you need, you just ask.”

He pulled back, meeting Finn’s eyes full of tears that didn’t fall.

“Just remember one thing… this wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know what was going on while you were gone. It wasn’t your fault. Promise me you’ll remember that.”

Finn nodded, unable to speak for fear the tears would fall and his voice would crack, embarrassing him. “Anything you need,” Jonathan said quietly, “you just ask.”

He gave Finn a half-smile full of sympathy, patting him on the shoulder. “I’m going to get everyone to leave soon. You seem to want to be alone for a while.”

Finn’s eyes narrowed, turning them to his uncle, Barrett. “I won’t be alone even if I want to be. Which I do.”

Jonathan nodded, glancing at Barrett. “I understand. Remember what I’ve said. Take it to heart. You promise?”

Finn gave him a shaky nod. “I will. Thank you, Jonathan. I mean that.”

One more pat on the shoulder, and Jonathan turned to the people muttering quietly to one another.

“Let’s go, friends. Finn would like to be alone with his parents for a while.”

More muttering, lots of nods in his direction, looks of sympathy… Finn could barely handle it. He felt like a child, wanting desperately to wail and stomp his feet and pound on the ground with his fists.

But such behavior wouldn’t bring his parents back. And if he wanted to humiliate himself, that was the best way to make sure that happened.

The guests had all left when Barrett calmly stepped over to him. Finn instantly felt his anger rise. He frowned hard.

“Finn,” Barrett said, his voice gentle and kind. It was the last thing Finn wanted to hear. “Let’s talk.”

Chapter Two

“There’s nowhere for you to stay here, Barrett,” Finn said in a hard tone, exactly the opposite of his uncle’s. “As you can see the house is burned to the ground. I have no bed for you. A hotel in town will be much more comfortable.”

Barrett shook his head, crossing his arms over his broad chest. He looked like a rich businessman; clean shaven, dark hair like his own father’s but with a gray streak from the right side of his forehead to the back of his head, making a line straight through the black. He was dressed in black, a white shirt underneath, black suspenders, a black hat on his head.

“I’m not going to leave you alone, Finn. You need someone to help you through this crisis.”

Finn lowered his head to his hands, fighting tears. “What if I want to be alone?” he grumbled.

“You might think you want to be alone,” Barrett said, his booming voice sounding louder than it probably was.

“I don’t want to think about anything,” he groaned. “I just want to take a break.”

“You don’t have a lot of time to think,” Barrett responded. “Do you have any money? For food and new clothes? Maybe a room in town for yourself?”

“I’m staying in the barn,” Finn answered him, reluctantly. “I don’t want to make you stay in the barn, too. You should go to town. I can fend for myself.”

“You’ll need a better place to stay than the barn, son. You know that. You can’t stay in there forever.”

Finn bristled when his uncle used the word “son.” He did his best to regulate his feelings and dampen down his anger.

“My parents kept money in the roof over the well,” he said. “That’s my inheritance now. The whole of it.”

“Well, let’s go see how much it is and how long you will be able to survive off it.”

Finn led his uncle to the well, wondering if the man would steal the money and run. After all he’d disapproved of his parents’ union.

Finn felt up in the roof over the well with his hand, searching for the small pocket his father had told him about. He’d never seen it himself. It wasn’t for him to search for. But he was aware of it.

His uncle took the other side. They both felt along the boards until Finn laid his hand on something wrapped in cloth. He pulled out a bulky wrap, along with a folder from underneath it. He set the folder aside and unwrapped the cloth. His heart nearly stopped when he saw the handful of ten-dollar bills.

“Ten-dollar bills.” Barrett sounded surprised. “He must have done this on purpose. Your father was a… knowledgeable man. Smart. He’s left you with a good amount of money.”

Finn counted the ten-dollar bills, holding onto them as if a slight breeze would blow them away.

“Two hundred dollars,” he breathed, astonished. “I’ve never seen so much money before in my life.”

While he’d counted the bills, Barrett came around the well to stand next to him. He opened the folder and began to read through the papers, fingering them.

“What’s all this?” he questioned, hesitatingly. Finn glanced at the folder, lifting his eyes to his uncle’s face.

“No idea,” he responded.

“Most of this is written in Spanish,” Barrett said. “I speak a little. How much do you know?”

“I can read it pretty good,” Finn answered, holding out his hand. “Let me see it.”

Instead of handing him the full folder, Barrett handed him the first page, a letter written in crude handwriting.

Finn took it, reading it out loud.

“Dear Jack.” His voice shook saying his father’s name. “I’m bringing you this folder and writing this letter in case I am unable to see you in person. I hope to see you again, but it is becoming more dangerous every day. I have become a member of a revolutionary group. I work as the leader’s right hand man. This man is plotting a coup against the Mexican government. He has many insiders infiltrating the government and reporting back to him. His plans are violent. We are still months away from carrying it out, but the plans are almost complete.

‘I have finally realized our leader is not planning to right the wrongs of the past. He plans to install himself as the new dictator. This folder contains those plans made so far with maps of the hiding places and where attacks are going to be with proposed dates.

‘He is coming for this folder before it makes it to the Mexican government to forewarn them of the plans. If this folder doesn’t make it to them, thousands, maybe tens of thousands of people will die in the bloody conflict that will follow. Please, Jack, find the people to give this folder to. Carry out what I am unable to.

‘Your friend, Santiago.”

When Finn finished the letter, he was mentally exhausted. Just glancing through the rest of the folder made him feel uncomfortable, drained, and, for once in his life, scared.

“Who is Santiago?” he mumbled.

“Perhaps it is the man who was found in the house with Jack and Brenda,” Barrett said, holding out his hand. Instinctively, Finn gave the folder back to his uncle while still holding onto the letter. He read it repeatedly.

If this was true and the man who had died with his parents was Santiago, it meant he had, in fact, been at fault for their deaths. But it also meant that he’d been counting on his father to get the folder to the Mexican authorities. He believed in his heart that Jack was capable of what he needed him to do. He had depended on his parents. He’d never meant for them to be killed. The man had given up his own life, as well.

But still, even if his thoughts were true, the leader of the revolutionary gang and his followers must have been right on Santiago’s heels. They must have gotten to his father’s house soon after Santiago. For the house to have burned so much by the time Finn returned, it must have been on fire for at least an hour, maybe two.

That meant Santiago had arrived shortly after he’d left, he might have even passed the man on the road and not seen him.

His heart wrenched at the thought. He should have turned around. He should have been there to protect his parents. He should have…

Jonathan’s words echoed in his mind… “It wasn’t your fault… it wasn’t your fault…” the words repeated.

If it wasn’t his fault, why did he feel like it was?

When he finally looked up from the letter, he noticed his uncle still had the folder open, his eyes on it as he headed for the barn.

Confused as to what his uncle was doing, Finn followed him, folding the letter and slipping it into the inside pocket of his leather vest. He didn’t catch up to his uncle until the man was inside the barn. He’d left the door open so sunlight would burst through the darkness. The windows inside were all open, but the barn stayed dim regardless.

He stepped in through the door to see Barrett had set the folder on a shelf near the entrance, a long shelf that held cleaning supplies, ropes, whips and brushes hanging on hooks underneath the shelf.

He was heading for the stalls. He stopped at the first one, where Jack’s horse stood, eyeing him with one large brown eye.

“Hello there,” Barrett whispered, lifting his hand to rub the horse’s neck. He glanced back at Finn, who stood and stared at him, unmoving. “What is the name of this horse?”

“That’s Thunder,” Finn answered, regretting the tremble in his voice. He hadn’t thought at all about what seeing his father’s and mother’s horses might do to him. He’d been sleeping in the barn for the last four days and hadn’t even noticed the horses. He fed them without thinking. In fact, almost everything he’d done over the last few days had been done in a daze.

“I guess they haven’t gotten much exercise these last few days, have they?” Barrett asked, studying the horse, moving his head to see both sides. “You’ve been feeding them, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Barrett looked around. “You’ve managed to make this almost like a home, Finn. Good job.”

Finn didn’t know how to respond to that.

Chapter Three

Three hours later, Finn was sitting in silence, staring at his sleeping uncle. It was early for sleep. Finn hadn’t been sleeping normally anyway. He pulled his eyes away from his uncle and set them on the folder, which sat open on his lap. He was fluent in Spanish, and it was easy to read for him. He could tell his uncle didn’t read Spanish. If he did, it was limited.

Finn moved from one page to another, studying the maps, recognizing some of the places and names. Who was this Santiago? Why did he bring these documents to his father? Why would his father care? This seemed to be all about the Mexican government and some rebels who had joined Americans in a gang to overthrow a dictator. Why were the Americans even getting involved in Mexican affairs?

His uncle stirred, drawing Finn’s attention again. The large man jerked in his sleep before abruptly gasping, his eyes popping open. He stared at the ceiling so far above it looked like a black hole. His gaze darted to Finn.

“You all right?” Finn asked.

At first, his uncle didn’t say anything. He just stared. After a moment or two, he rolled over onto his side and pushed up to a sitting position.

“Uncle Barrett?” Finn repeated his question. “You all right?”

Barrett cleared his throat before speaking. He nodded slightly. “I’m fine. My dreams are… are sometimes… disturbing. What are you doing?”

“I can’t sleep,” was Finn’s response. “I haven’t been able to since…” He left the rest of the sentence dangling. He knew Barrett didn’t need him to continue.

“You figured out anything about that folder? Anything more?”

Finn shrugged. “What more could there be? It’s documents just like it says in the letter.” He pulled the folded paper from his pocket and placed it on the other documents before closing it. “I just don’t know why my father would be consulted about this.”

Barrett frowned. “Do you know why I left your mother when she married your father?”

The old anger rose in Finn’s chest, making it feel tight. But what was the point of it now when he had so much more to be angry about? He didn’t even know who his enemies were at this point. If he fell asleep, would his uncle rob him of the two hundred dollars?

Was that the kind of man Barrett was?

The darkness felt damp and cold to his skin. He rubbed his hands together, wondering if a fire was a good idea. He’d decided to start one and got up to get a few planks of wood from the pile against the wall.

The pause drew out a few seconds before Barrett continued. Not saying anything made Finn feel more secure in himself.

“Your father was involved in one of the worst gangs in the upper Mexican border all the way through Texas and into New Mexico. They robbed banks, pillaged villages, violated women, and gave the children no mercy. The men who attacked your home are likely the same gang that he belonged to. And if they know Jack has a son, or find out about you, they will be after you, too. I’m sure they were hoping those plans burned up in the ashes when they killed Brenda, Jack, and Santiago, if that was who the stranger was. You can’t fall prey to them, Finn. You can’t stay here in the barn for long. What if they come back?”

“How would they find that out?”

Barrett shook his head, keeping his voice low, though there was no need. The quiet of the impending darkness was already taking effect.

“They may still be around. They might be in Presidio as we speak. What if someone tells them the story about the family that died in a fire, one son left behind? They will come for you.”

“Then where have they been this last week?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they will hear about it in another town and have to come back. That’s why they’ve taken so long. Don’t you see I’m concerned about you?”

“Like you were concerned about my mother,” Finn scoffed as he set light to the fire. “If you thought my father was such a bad man, why didn’t you stick around to protect her from the brutal man you thought my father was? Why would you cut her off so that any pain she went through, she went through alone? Without her big brother. Instead, you left. You turned your back on her. If she’d needed you, you wouldn’t have been there to save her.” He shook his head, knowing his voice was hard and angry. “I don’t understand that kind of thinking. If I thought my sister was marrying a dangerous man, I’d stay around just in case I’m needed.”

To his credit, Barrett looked ashamed. He lowered his head. After a moment, he nodded, turning his face back to Finn. “You’re right, son. I did the wrong thing. And I… I can never tell her I’m sorry. I guess… I guess I’ll just have to tell you instead.”

For the first time since he’d seen his uncle on his horse approaching the house, Finn felt his pain ease. His heart beat a little slower. He almost didn’t mind it that his uncle called him “son.” It still felt strange but somehow… tolerable.

“I have a feeling,”  Barrett continued, “that your pa was in the same gang as this Santiago, and that the dead man found with your parents is him. He has led these men to your door. You have to stay on guard. They could come at any moment.”

Finn didn’t want to leave the farm. He wanted to stay near his parents forever. He also didn’t see himself rebuilding here. It carried too many memories, both good and bad.

On the other hand, what if he built a brand new house and it didn’t feel as much like the land of his father, bringing back memories every single day. He could have a family and make it beautiful again. Make new memories while not reliving how his life with his parents had come to an abrupt and painful end.

“Let’s get everything together now,” Barrett stated, pushing to his feet with a grunt. “We’re going into town. You keep that money, keep it hidden in your pocket. Don’t let anyone see it. If you have to pay for anything, take out one bill, not all of them.”

He spoke as he put the few things he’d taken out of his bags back where he’d gotten them from.

“You can get a room and not let anyone know you’re staying there. Especially not strangers. We’ll make a plan to do something with that folder. Maybe the law will find some use for it. I don’t know if they want to bother with the Mexican government, but they might want to warn them. We should ask the sheriff in your town.”

Finn was still getting used to the idea that his uncle really did regret his actions, leaving his sister behind in possible danger, when he should have been there to protect her. One thing stuck in his mind, though.

He was accusing his uncle of not being there in case his little sister needed him.

But was he any better? He wasn’t there when both of his parents needed him. Maybe he couldn’t have done anything. Maybe he would have been killed along with them.

Instead, he was still alive, in good health and boiling with a need for vengeance.

Would it have been any better for him to have been killed with his parents?

Chapter Four

The next morning, Finn and Barrett set out when the sun was just rising. Barrett had checked the barn to make sure they didn’t leave anything important behind and started off down the road. Neither of them had much to say. Finn didn’t want to talk. He was still bothered and upset, blaming himself for not being there to help his parents. To save them. How could he live with himself?

The blue sky above, the sun beaming down, the gentle breeze making the leaves tremble had no positive effect on him. Normally he enjoyed nature and traveling on horseback. He admired what he considered one of the greatest works of God – the earth and everything living on it.

But that morning, Finn’s mind made the world turn dark, no sunlight penetrating his depression. No breeze to keep him cool. No beauty from the trees, flowers or anything he passed that would normally have caught his eye.

He was grateful his uncle didn’t try to hold a conversation. On one hand, he thought it might have distracted him some. On the other hand, he knew Barrett had nothing to say that would truly distract him from his thoughts. His uncle was more likely to talk about the incident or the aftermath effect.

They’d only been riding fifteen minutes when Uncle Barrett suddenly veered off the road. Taking his cue, Finn immediately went after him. It wasn’t until they were behind a line of large boulders that Uncle Barrett stopped. He turned his horse around and Finn studied the man’s face. Being clean-shaven, it was easy to see his uncle was frowning, worry lines creating two lines between his dark eyes.

“What happened?” Finn asked bluntly. He’d surprised even himself by instantly going after his uncle without question. Perhaps it was a loyalty trait left over from obeying his father on their many hunting trips.

“There are men coming in this direction,” Uncle Barrett responded without hesitation. “We need to stay out of sight for as long as possible. No telling who those men are.”

Finn nodded. One more notch in Uncle Barrett’s belt. As much as he regretted admitting it, his anger at his uncle was waning. The man was taking good care of him. There was no doubt he was sorry for what he’d done to his sister. Finn dismounted at the same time as his uncle. They both left the horses directly behind them, creeping up to the boulders and looking through the crevices to watch for the men to pass.

It was nearly five minutes later, and Finn was just about to doubt his uncle had even seen anyone when the sound of men’s voices approached.

Finn recognized they were speaking in Spanish. He glanced at his uncle, who nodded slightly. He’d heard them, too.

“You should have known he would have a child, Ricardo. He was a married man, after all. That’s why he left the gang.”

“Maybe you should have known,” another man responded, also in Spanish. “I’m no more knowledgeable about that man than you are. I haven’t kept up with his life these last twenty years. Have you?”

“That’s not the point, senor. It wasn’t my job.”

“Neither was it mine. So don’t point your fat finger at me.”

“That’s enough, you two.” A third voice entered the conversation. Was he the leader? Finn’s chest tightened. His father had never mentioned his life before he married Finn’s mother. And in all his twenty years, Finn had never asked. He’d never been curious. It hurt him now that he’d not been interested in his father’s life. He should have been. He should have asked questions. But since his father never brought it up and made everything about Finn and raising him properly, Finn just hadn’t thought to ask.

He knew even less about his mother’s childhood leading up to her marriage to his father.

He was beginning to feel like a terrible son. Depression made his heart sink and feel heavy as a stone.

“If he is not there, where will we look?” the man named Ricardo asked the question.

“I don’t know. What do you think we should do?”

The question sounded genuine. Finn looked through the crevices as the men passed by. He counted six. The three in front were talking. The three that followed were looking at those men with stoic or bored expressions.

“Let’s wait until he comes back. We don’t know if he’s got the papers or not. So we’ll search while he’s not there.”

“And if he is there?” the first man who’d spoken asked the question.

“What do you think?” Indignation from the leader of the group. Or at least, the one Finn decided had the most authoritative voice. “We’ll tie him up and force him to tell us where it is on pain of death!”

For some reason, this brought laughter from all the men. Finn’s skin erupted in chills at the evil sound. His anger boiled inside. He wanted to jump out and shoot all six men. But that was unproductive and could get him killed. He tried to remember the good deed he needed to perform, one that might save thousands of lives. Why give up his own pre-emptively? That would do no good.

He couldn’t allow himself to die until he fulfilled that mission. Once everyone was saved from a new Mexican-American war, then he could decide what kind of future he wanted.

Finn felt a hand on his shoulder. Uncle Barrett nodded and gestured with his fingers to follow him. Finn went after him toward the horses.

“We should wait until nightfall to leave,” his uncle said. “That way there will be no chance of them seeing us. If I know bandits, they’ll have someone watching on all four corners of the ranch to make sure no one approaches without them seeing. We can’t risk them seeing us leave.”

Finn pulled his eyebrows together. “But it will be dark. We won’t be able to see without a torch. They’ll see that clear as day.”

Barrett shook his head. “No. The almanac is calling for a near full moon tonight. The actual full moon is tomorrow. So we will have a lot of moonlight to travel under. And once we’re well away from the ranch, we’ll light a torch.”

“Okay,” Finn replied, nodding. “Sounds like a logical plan to me.” He went to his horse and began to unload the saddle bags. While he settled his bag and bedroll on a flat spot on the ground, he glanced at his uncle. It was the exact moment when his uncle was looking at him with pride. Uncle Barrett smiled, putting his own belongings on the ground under a tree with long branches and lots of leaves.

Finn turned his eyes away. Something strange had happened. He was growing fond of his uncle – a man he’d disliked his whole life. How he wished his mother was alive to know her brother regretted his decision to leave her behind. It would have made her so happy.