Fic: The Sheriff and the Outlaw (2/2)

[citrinesunset]

Title: The Sheriff and the Outlaw
Fandom: White Collar
Characters/Pairing: Neal, Peter, Mozzie, Keller, Sara, various others.
Rating: General Audiences (some violence)
Word count: 16200
Summary: Neal Caffrey just wanted a fresh start in the West. Unfortunately, his fresh start involved running cons and getting involved with the infamous Matthew Keller Gang. Now, he's a wanted man trying to avoid the law. Peter Burke is the sheriff of the small town of White Hills, and when a newcomer named Nick Halden arrives, he quickly becomes suspicious.

Notes: See Part 1




Peter was in the heart of town, listening to a girl sing the Star-Spangled Banner, when Diana caught his eye.

She looked concerned, and Peter quickly excused himself.

Once they were away from the crowd, Diana didn't waste any time. "Sheriff, Matthew Keller is here."

"What? Are you sure?"

"I saw him plain as day, before he disappeared. He was talking to your Nick Halden."

Peter took a deep breath. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the seriousness of the situation. It had been exciting enough to suspect Nick of being Neal Caffrey, but the fact was that Keller was a murderer and Caffrey might have killed, too. At the very least, he was complicit.

"Are you sure? It's dark...."

Putting her hands on her hips, Diana said, "When I was traversing the mountains, I could spot a coyote in the dead of night as long as there was a sliver of moon. I think I can recognize an outlaw."

"Show me where they were," Peter said, he voice cold.

As he followed Diana down the street, he felt like a train on a track. He moved almost without thinking, propelled by the force of necessity. He was the sheriff, and he would do whatever needed to be done.

He didn't actually expect Caffrey to still be around, but to his surprise, "Nick Halden" was still standing in the spot Diana indicated. He had his hands on his hips and was pacing.

Peter didn't pause to see what was worrying him. Striding up to him, he said, "Neal Caffrey, you're under arrest."

Before Caffrey could react, Peter grabbed his arm. For a moment, he merely gaped at Peter, blinking. Then he tried to pull away.

"What's going on? What did you call me?"

"Stop it. I know you're Neal Caffrey. And I know you were just talking to Matthew Keller. Where is he?"

Panic flooded Caffrey's face. "I don't know, I swear! You have this all wrong."

"Are you going to come quietly, or do you want to make a scene in front of the whole town?"

He didn't really expect that to calm Caffrey down, but it worked.

Peter marched Caffrey to the sheriff's office. Diana followed close behind. Peter wondered if he needed to raise the alarm. If the town was in danger, people needed to know. They needed to prepare. But if he could get Caffrey to tell him what Keller was up to, maybe he could catch Keller and the rest of his gang before Keller knew he'd been found out.

The sheriff's office was dark, and Peter asked Diana to light the lamps. He wasted no time locking Caffrey in one of the few cells. Caffrey clutched the bars in his fists, his knuckles turning white.

"This is all a mistake. You have to-"

Peter raised his hand to silence him. "Spare it. I'm going to send a telegraph for the marshals to come and get you. If you tell me what Keller is up to, maybe I can curry a little favor for you. It could make a difference when you go to trial."

Caffrey said nothing. Peter gritted his teeth.

"Listen, I swore to protect this town, and I won't let anything happen to these fine people on my watch. So if your little gang is lurking out there, and you don't help me out here, whatever happens is on you. And you'd better believe I won't forget it."

Caffrey released the bars and stepped back a few inches. "It's not my gang. And Keller doesn't want anything with the town. At least, not that I know of. I have something he wants."

"What?"

Caffrey hesitated. "A map. That's all."

"Sheriff?" Diana said.

Peter turned around to face her. She looked concerned.

"Should we warn everyone?" she asked.

Peter looked out the window. Loud pops and bangs filled the air, but it was only the sound of the rockets the townspeople were setting off. There was no sign of trouble. At least not yet.

"We'll need to, but let's not raise a panic just yet. Go find Clinton Jones. See if he and some of the other men from Miss Ellis's ranch would be able to help patrol the town tonight and tomorrow."

With a nod, Diana said, "Will do."

After she left, Peter turned his attention back to Neal, who was pressed against the bars again.

"As for you, you stay put. I'll be back."

He felt the sudden need to find Elizabeth. Logically, he knew she was safe. But he had to be sure, and he had to tell her what happened.

He searched the streets for several minutes, and when he didn't see her, panic began to set in. He could feel it rising in his throat. Now that the sun had set, some people had gone home. There were fewer children in the streets. But half the town was still out, and it was hard to find El in the throngs of people.

Finally, he spotted her purple dress. Breathing a sigh of relief, he hurried over and gently took her arm, leading her away from the crowd.

"Peter? What's the matter?"

"I need to tell you something. Matthew Keller has been spotted in town."

Her eyes widened. "Are you positive?"

He nodded. "Our 'Nick Halden' was seen with him. I've arrested him, but if he knows where Keller is now, he's not telling." He put his hands on her shoulders. "Listen, when you can, I want you to go home and latch the door."

"What about you?"

"I'm going to stay in my office tonight. I don't think I should leave the prisoner alone."

She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling beneath her white bodice. "All right. Please be careful."

Peter gave her a quick kiss and hurried back to the office and jail. His gut told him he shouldn't leave Caffrey alone for too long. His suspicions were confirmed when he walked in and found Caffrey with one arm through the bars, trying to open the lock on the cell with a metal pick. He looked up when Peter entered, guilt strewn across his face.

Peter growled. "And this is why I'll be staying here tonight to watch you. Give me that." He took away the lock pick and motioned for Caffrey to step away from the bars.

He kept his eye on the man until finally, Caffrey took a seat on the wooden bunk and rested his head in his hands. He looked distraught, but at the moment, Peter was too angry and too worried about his town to care.

* * *

Neal had spent worse nights in his life, but that was little consolation when he woke the next morning after a scant few hours of sleep. His back and neck ached from lying on the hard wooden bunk.

Peter had, as promised, spent the whole night there with him. Peeking through the bars, Neal saw that Peter had fallen asleep in his chair, his chin slumped against his chest. Perhaps this was his chance. If he could find another way to pick the lock....

His thoughts of escape were dispelled when the door opened and Elizabeth Burke came in carrying a picnic basket. Peter jerked awake.

"El? What are you doing here?"

"Bringing some breakfast for my husband. And for his prisoner."

Neal perked up a little at the mention of food. He hadn't eaten anything last night, and despite his predicament, he was hungry.

Elizabeth looked at him, and he could have sworn he saw a hint of concern. For him? If he had a chance to speak to her, maybe she could sway her husband. But she didn't stay, instead leaving the basket with Peter.

Peter unpacked the food. "Looks like you're in luck," he said. "We've got bacon, hardboiled eggs, and apples. Enjoy it."

Peter unlocked the cell door to hand Neal his breakfast. Neal decided to try to reason with him again.

"They could hang me, you know. And I never killed anyone. I swear on my life, Peter."

"That's not for me to decide. My job is to hand you over to the marshals."

"But you can help investigate." Neal racked his brain. "Look, the San Antonio train robbery was on May twenty-seventh, right?"

"Right."

"I wasn't even in San Antonio then. The last time I saw Keller was in Waco a few days prior. We got in a fight and he stabbed me. I saw a doctor there, a Dr. Clement. And I stayed in a place called the Hancock Inn until the twenty-ninth. People will remember me. I was going by the name Steve Tabernackle. Then I got a train ticket to Colorado."

To his relief, Peter appeared to be taking this in.

"All right. I'll send some telegrams, see if I can confirm this story of yours."

Neal slumped in relief. This didn't mean he was saved-the marshals might still want him tried for Keller's other robberies, and he had plenty of crimes of his own. But at least they wouldn't be able to claim he'd killed anyone. That might spare his life.

Neal took a few bites of his bacon. He looked up at Peter, who was eating at his desk.

"You know," Neal said, "I really didn't mean any harm. I thought I might stay here for a while. Start a new life."

Peter didn't respond. Not a good sign, but not a bad one, either. Neal decided to keep talking.

"I spent four years in prison in New York. I don't intend to spend any more time behind bars. Not after that." He stole another glance at Peter, searching for any sign of sympathy.

Peter was determinedly ignoring him.

Suddenly, the door opened again. Neal craned his neck to see who it was, and leapt to his feet when he saw it was Mozzie.

He hadn't expected Moz to come to his rescue. Mozzie was loyal, but lawmen practically made him break out in hives.

Even more surprising was that Mozzie wasn't alone. There was a young woman with him. Her eyes were red as though she'd been crying, and her long, dark hair was disheveled. Her dress was dusty, and the hem was torn.

"I demand to see the prisoner," Mozzie said authoritatively. "It's urgent that I speak to him immediately. And alone."

Peter narrowed his eyes. "That's not going to happen. If you want to talk to Mr. Caffrey, you can do it in front of me."

Mozzie squirmed back and forth, but it was the young woman who stepped forward.

"Please," she said, her voice cracking, "they said if Mr. Caffrey doesn't show himself, people will die."

Peter got to his feet, and Neal went over to the bars. He strained his neck to better see Mozzie and the young woman.

Peter held up a hand to calm her. "Wait, start from the beginning. Tell me what's going on."

"My name is Zillah. I work up at Sara Ellis's ranch, as a cook. This morning, these men came. They have guns. Most of the hands weren't there, so they were able to take us hostage. Their leader let me go. He told me to come here and find a man named Neal Caffrey at the Ellington Hotel. He said to tell Mr. Caffrey that if he doesn't show himself by nightfall, everyone-" she choked on a sob "-everyone on the ranch will be killed. And then they'll come to town. He'll said-he said he'll take back what's his and collect a tax, too."

Peter's jaw clenched. "It's Keller." He spun around and looked at Neal, venom in his eyes. "You led him here. You'd better tell me right now exactly what he's looking for."

Neal swallowed. There was no use lying now. He hadn't signed up for this. He wouldn't have taken the map if he thought people might get hurt.

"It's a map leading to the location of Keller's loot. He hid it in the mountains, maybe in an old mine shaft. He needs to map to find it again, so he came after me." His mind reeled as he put everything together. "He told me last night that I had until morning to deliver the map. When I didn't, he must have decided to push my hand."

Peter stifled a curse. He clenched his fists at his sides. "And I commandeered Sara's men to help me guard the town. I left her ranch vulnerable. Dammit." He turned to Mozzie. "You, if you know where this map is, you'd better bring it here."

Mozzie glanced at Neal, who nodded.

"Do what he says."

To Zillah, Peter said, "Do you know where my house is? It's at the end of the street, past the tailor shop. I want you to go there. My wife will take care of you. I'm going to round up a posse and I'll take care of this Matthew Keller and his gang. I promise you that."

As soon as Mozzie and Zillah were gone, Neal spoke up. "Peter, you have to let me out of here."

"Not a chance. I have enough trouble to deal with."

Neal grabbed the bars, as though if he squeezed hard enough, he could pull them apart. "If you go there, there'll see you coming. They might kill Sara and the other hostages. There's another way."

Peter paused and looked at him, and Neal was encouraged.

"Listen, Keller sent Zillah to the hotel to find me, and he thinks I didn't follow his instructions about returning the map. He doesn't know you arrested me. If I go there, if I give him back the map, he'll let his guard down."

"And then what? You run off with the gang?"

Neal glared at him. "I told you-I'm no killer. I want nothing to do with Keller. While I get Keller to let his guard down, you can approach from another direction. Take the gang by surprise. It's the best way."

Peter looked skeptical, but Neal could tell he was thinking about it. He had to see that it was their best shot.

"I swear," Neal said, "the last thing I want is for anyone to get hurt because of me. Let me do this. Let me make things right."

Finally, went to his desk and retrieved the cell key from a drawer.

"All right," he said. "I'll give you a chance."

* * *

Neal had to sound sure of himself in order to convince Peter to help. But as he rode toward the ranch on the back of a borrowed horse, doubt started to wash over him.

Teaming up with Keller was one of the few things he'd done that he regretted. There had been a time when he considered Keller a friend. They'd known each other in New York, before Neal went to prison. But Keller was violent and unpredictable, and the freedom of the West had only made him worse, more brazen.

Neal was alone on the road leading to the ranch. Peter's posse had gotten a head start and was heading around the long way to take Keller by surprise from the back. The cowboys from the ranch, who had spent the night in White Hills to help guard the town, were eager to reclaim their ranch and rescue their boss. A few others had joined the posse as well, including Diana Berrigan.

But Neal had to do his part alone.

At the gate to the ranch, Manual Campos stood guard with a rifle. He raised it when Neal approached, and then lowered it when he saw who it was.

"About time you showed your face," Campos said. "Keller's been waiting. Leave your horse out here."

Neal got down and hitched the horse to a fence post. Campos opened the gate to let Neal in.

The ranch was too quiet. Neal didn't want to think about what that might mean. Keller had given him until nightfall, but that didn't guarantee the hostages were safe, or still alive.

If Keller had killed anyone, Neal would never forgive himself.

Campos escorted Neal toward the main house, and as they approached, the door opened and Keller came out. Keller held a pistol by his side, and he gave Neal a cruel smile.

"I'm glad you've finally seen reason, Neal."

Neal started to reach into his pocket for the map, but Keller raised his gun.

"Easy, Neal."

Neal glared at him. "Do you want the map or not?"

"Just don't make any sudden movements. I've love to have an excuse to shoot you."

Slowly, Neal reached into his pocket and pulled out the map. It was the original, though he still had his own copy back in his room at June's hotel. But stealing the loot was the farthest thing from his mind right now. His life was on the line. Other people's lives were on the line.

Neal handed the map to Keller. "You've got what you wanted. Now leave. These people haven't done anything to you."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Navarro coming out of the barn, leading a horse.

"You're taking the horses?"

Keller smirked. "Don't worry your pretty head, Caffrey. We won't take them all."

Looking around, he saw full canvas bags sitting on the ground. They were looting the ranch.

"You've got what you wanted," Neal said. "You don't need to take this stuff, too."

"I'll take whatever I damned well please."

Behind Keller, the door to the house burst open and Jason Lang stumbled out, holding his head.

"Boss!" he shouted. "That crazy ranch woman got loose. She's gone!"

Keller whipped around. "Why the hell didn't you stop her?"

"She hit me over the head."

"What are you waiting for? Go find her and bring her back!"

Neal's heart pounded. Sara was still alive. He just hoped she'd gotten away, or that she could stay hidden until Peter's posse arrived.

"Why don't you just leave her alone?" Neal said. "You don't need her anymore."

Lang staggered off, and Keller turned back to Neal.

"I'll decide what I need. Maybe I'll take a hostage with me when I leave, just in case you get any bad ideas about making trouble."

Neal looked around, trying to stealthily gauge the situation. Navarro and Campos were loading stolen goods onto stolen horses. Lang was off looking for Sara. There was no sign of Wilkes or Ganz. They might have been with the other hostages, or they may have gone off ahead. Neal wished he knew.

Keller interrupted Neal's spying. "You know what your trouble is, Neal?"

"I'm sure you're about to tell me."

"You have ambition, but you don't have what it takes to follow through. All I had to do was threaten a pretty lady, and you gave me what I wanted. One of these days, you'll learn that sometimes you have to be willing to let people get hurt in order to get what you want. If you're really wanted my loot, there was nothing stopping you from going and getting it."

"I don't want to be like you. No treasure in the world is worth that."

Before Keller could retort, a loud shot rang through the air. For a moment, Neal was scared Lang had found Sara. But then he heard the sound of racing hoof beats. It was the posse.

Keller looked at him, his eyes cold. "What the hell did you do, Neal?"

"It's too late. You're going down, Keller."

Keller raised his gun, pointing the barrel in Neal's face. There was nowhere to run, and for a moment, he fully expected to die. A shot sounded, and Neal winced. But it hadn't come from Keller's gun.

They both looked to the side. Some sixty feet away, Lang was on the ground outside the barn, clutching his leg. Up above, Neal could just make out Sara leaning out of the opening to the hayloft, shotgun in hand. She quickly disappeared back inside the loft.

Lang writhed in pain, and Keller ran toward the barn. Neal ran after him.

When they reached the barn, there was no sign of Sara. Either she'd escaped out the back, or she was still hiding up in the hayloft. Neal had to stop Keller from finding out.

"Forget about her. The sheriff is here now. It's all over, Keller."

The barn was dark and stiflingly hot. Neal's lungs burned when he breathed.

Somewhere outside, there was a burst of gunfire. Neal didn't know if he was safer in the barn with Keller or out in the middle of the shootout.

Again, Keller raised his gun. "It's over for you, Caffrey. Not me. Teaming up with the sheriff? Really? How do you expect that to end for you? Were you planning on marching off to jail after this?"

"Who said anything about going to jail?" After a pause, he added, "We could escape while there's still time." He needed to stall for time.

Keller laughed. It was a cold, vicious sound. "What, you trying to play me now? I'm insulted. We know each other too well for this. No, only one of us is escaping from this barn."

Neal started to speak, to try something else, but the gunshot cut him off. At first, the only way he knew it had come from Keller's gun was from how loud it was. His ears rang. He felt like he'd been punched hard in the shoulder, and when he looked down, he saw blood blossoming through his shirt.

He turned and staggered toward the barn door, toward the crack of light. But his vision dimmed and he sank to the dirt floor.

* * *

Peter had lost all sense of time. The shootout had only lasted a couple minutes, but it felt like both an instant and an eternity.

In the aftermath, Peter took stock as his posse helped him investigate. There were three men tied up in the ranch hands' bunkhouse, but they were unharmed. The main house had been looted, but most of what had been taken appeared to still be sitting in bags on the ground out front. Navarro, Wilkes, and Ganz had managed to ride off, but Campos and Lang were wounded. Though, judging by how Lang was ranting about a "crazy ranch woman," he may not have been shot by the posse.

There was no sign of Keller. Or Neal.

The last building to check was the barn. With his gun out, Peter approached carefully. The door was partly open, and he stepped inside.

There was no sign of Keller, but Neal was slumped on the floor. Blood pooled around him.

Peter's heart leaped and he ran forward.

"No," he murmured under his breath.

He turned Neal over, fearing the worst. But then he saw Neal's eyelids flutter.

He was still alive. In that moment, Peter couldn't quite explain why that filled him with relief.

* * *

The doctor said Neal was lucky. The bullet went straight through and missed anything vital, and as long as infection didn't set in, Neal would recover.

Peter was optimistic. He'd seen men survive worse injuries in the war. Neal had barely woken up since getting shot, but that was thanks to the laudanum. It was for the best. It kept Neal at peace while his fate was decided.

Peter had hesitantly agreed to let Neal recover at his room at the Ellington. The truth was, they just didn't have the right facilities to care for an injured prisoner, and though Peter didn't trust the odd barman, Haversham had proven to be a dedicated nurse. In any case, Neal wasn't going anywhere while he was passed out on laudanum.

A few days after the shootout, Peter arrived at the Ellington to find Fowler standing out front, speaking to Sara Ellis. Fowler had arrived that morning, and even though Peter had been the one to telegraph him after arresting Neal, it was a pain to have to rehash the investigation that had already been mostly concluded.

"Burke," Fowler said with a nod. "Miss Ellis was just telling me her account of what happened. It's a miracle she wasn't killed."

"Oh, I wouldn't call it a miracle," Sara said with a cool smile. "That suggests it wasn't within my ability to protect myself and my land. On the contrary, I was prepared to do whatever necessary to rid my land of that vermin."

"No one would expect you to singlehandedly fight that gang," Fowler said.

"Well, obviously I can't rely on the marshals being around to defend me. If I had needed help, the only man prepared to lay down his life for me was also a thief. Not that I'm not grateful to Mr. Caffrey for trying to help. Now, if you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I need to return home. There's much to do."

Peter had heard Sara's full account on the afternoon of the shootout. She'd told him about how she'd hidden in the hayloft of her barn, armed with a shotgun. And how Neal had tried to stop Keller from finding her.

After Sara left, Fowler said, "Campos and Lang are well enough to transport. They'll be tried in Texas. They're both claiming that Keller threatened them into staying with the gang. We might work with them, if they can give us any useful information about the others. It's really Keller, Navarro, and Wilkes we want. The doctor said it'll be a few more days before we can move Caffrey, though, so I'll have to keep Campos and Lang in your jail until then." He was holding a piece of paper, and he handed it to Peter. "By the way, before I got your telegram, we had wanted posters made up for Caffrey. We got ahold of his picture. Of course, we won't need the posters now."

Peter looked at the wanted poster. In the picture, Neal looked confident, maybe even a little cocky. He looked like a man who always managed to come out on top, no matter what the odds.

"About Caffrey, I have something on him, myself." Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved the telegraphs he'd received. "Turns out, Caffrey was in Waco when Keller robbed the train in San Antonio. There are witnesses who remember him. A doctor who treated him for a stab wound and the proprietor of a hotel." He handed the telegraphs to Fowler.

Fowler shrugged. "All right, so he wasn't in San Antonio. Doesn't mean he didn't help with any other robberies."

"Do you have a reason to believe he did?"

"What are you saying, Burke?"

"I'm saying I think you should leave Caffrey here."

Fowler bristled at that. He stood up a little taller. "I don't think that's your decision to make, Sheriff. You know he's a confidence man, right? Seems like he might've got to you."

"Mr. Fowler, I've been the sheriff here for eight years, and I was a policeman in New York. I know criminals, and I know Caffrey isn't as innocent as he tries to make himself seem. I have no doubt he's found himself on the wrong side of the law more than once. But I also know that sometimes it's best to give a man a chance. The only crime we can prove Neal committed was stealing a map from Keller, and thanks to that map, you should be able to find a lot of the stuff Keller has stolen. I also know that when people were in danger, Neal was willing to risk his own safety to stop Keller. In my book, that's worth a second chance. If Neal wastes that chance, I'll lock him up myself. But frankly, it seems like a waste of your time to stick around waiting for Neal to recover when it's unlikely a court could convict him."

That last bit appeared to sway Fowler more than anything. With a shrug, he said, "It's your town, Sheriff, and your reputation. Do whatever you want with Caffrey. Just don't expect much support from the marshals when he robs your town blind."

"I'll take my chances."

Part of Peter wondered if he was making a mistake. But a bigger part of him believed that Neal deserved a chance to prove himself. A lot of people came out west looking for a new start. Didn't Neal deserve that, too?

Peter entered the hotel and went upstairs to Neal's room. The doctor had lessened his dosage of laudanum, so perhaps today, Neal would be lucid. Peter opened the door, stepped into the room, and froze.

Neal's bed was empty.

* * *

There was no way Neal could escape. Not like this. He was weak, and as the laudanum wore off, his shoulder burned with pain. He was in no condition to run, especially on foot.

But he didn't have any other choice. He'd heard the marshal, Fowler, in his room, speaking to the doctor when they thought he was asleep. The marshal was going to take him back to Texas, to face trial. So one way or another, he was going to escape.

He'd hoped that helping Peter would be enough to prove his innocence. Well, his innocence in the San Antonio robbery, at least. Still, he had no regrets. He couldn't remember much from the past few days, but he'd heard that everyone survived. That Keller was still at large, but that there was no sign of him anywhere near White Hills. The town would be safe.

Now he just needed to save himself. He patted his pocket, making sure the ring was still there. Somehow, no one had found out about the ring he'd taken from Keller, and he had no intention of surrendering it.

His legs were like lead. He was aware that he was moving far too slowly, but it was as fast as he could manage. He saw stars, and he could feel himself fading in and out of consciousness. He knew he was going to collapse, but he couldn't stop it.

The next thing he knew, he was on his knees. He couldn't remember falling. Now that he was down, he didn't have the energy to get back up. He was thinking about resting a moment when he heard hoof beats getting closer. A single horse, moving at a canter. Someone on horseback. He hoped it was someone who didn't know he was a fugitive, but regardless, he wasn't going anywhere. He had too much dignity to crawl.

The horse stopped beside him. Dust was kicked into his face, and he shut his eyes before looking upward at the rider. It was Peter.

"You caught me," he said with a weak smile.

"You know, for a man who's just gotten a reprieve, you sure are acting guilty."

The words went in Neal's ear but took a while to reach his brain. Blinking away dust, he said, "Reprieve?"

"Your story checked out, about being in Waco. The marshals aren't taking you."

Peter had checked out his story. Neal hadn't known if he would. Hadn't known if anyone would. He was used to people assuming he was guilty. And truthfully, he almost always was.

"I'm not going to prison?"

"No, but I will cuff you to your bed if you escape again before the doctor says you're well enough to be up."

"Trust me; I have no problem with the thought of lying in a nice, soft bed right now."

Peter dismounted from his horse and came to Neal's side. He pulled Neal to his feet, and helped him up on the horse's back. Then, he climbed on behind Neal and reached his arms around Neal's waist in order to take the reins. Neal was glad-he didn't know if he could stay on the horse on his own.

"You all right?" Peter asked.

"I will be."

"Good. Now listen, I vouched for you to Fowler, so that means you owe me. And if I catch you breaking the law, I won't hesitate to put you back in that cell."

"I don't know, after all this, maybe I'd be better suited to helping fight crime. You do need a deputy."

Peter chuckled. "Not a chance."

"Assistant deputy?"

"Right now, the only think you're going to do is recover. Let's go home."

Home. Nothing sounded better than that.