Soft tapping woke Corbin from his sleep where he lay on the pullout couch in Gunner and Clara's living room. Daylight cast warm rays through the velvet drapes while he rubbed his eyes, trying to recall how he got there? He remembered entering the laundry room to grab more towels for Gunner's aunt but found Abraham covered in blood, fastening ties on a woman being held captive.

Who was she? And did Abraham knock him out? He rubbed his jaw, feeling its tenderness.

Another tap forced him to pause from reflecting over the night and roll to his feet.

"Who is it?" He inched close to the door.

"Jamie, from up the road."

"Just a sec." Corbin glanced around for a weapon, but then chuckled. The elderly man was frail, with stringy muscles, and couldn't hurt a fly. He opened the door and shivered as the cold mountain wind swept past him. "Looking for Clara?"

"Yes, I'm afraid I've got sad news to share," he replied, stroking a tabby cat whose fur had seen better days.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, our neighbor Gregory went on a bender last night. He was carrying on about his estranged wife Annabeth and looks like he killed himself after Carl drove him home. Carl is torn up about it and thinks it's his fault."

"Oh..."

"Sad news, but I figured Clara might want to know since she's supposed to fix his broken water pump next week."

"Ok, I'll go get her."

Turning on his heels, every hair on Corbin's body stood at attention as fear struck him like a lightning bolt. Did Jamie suspect something? He climbed the stairs two steps at a time, determined to alert Clara, but when he passed the ajar door to the spare room he paused. Jasper was whispering to Luna, so he inched closer to have a listen. They stood next to the bed where Archibald slept with an IV drip, as Jasper promised her everything would be ok.

Corbin stepped back, ready to continue down the hall, but when Jasper brushed the hair from Luna's tear-filled eyes, he paused again. Something about the gesture, and how they stared at each other, sent a twitch up his spine. His eyes widened when Jasper leaned in slowly, and grazed her lips. When he pulled away, Luna's surprised expression spread like an ink drop in water. For a moment, they stared at each other, but the hunger in her gaze intensified. She slapped her hand around Jasper's neck and yanked him down to her level, crushing her mouth against his.

A wave of jealousy twisted Corbin's fists at his sides, so he backed away. Shaking his head, he spun to proceed down the hallway, but tripped over his feet, and slammed into the wall behind him. When he landed flat on his bottom, Jasper and Luna rushed from the room.

"Are you alright?" Luna asked, her lips flush from kissing.

"Fine," Corbin said through his teeth.

"Listen, whatever you saw, it's not what you think," Jasper blurted.

"And what do you think I think?"

"She... I..." Jasper stumbled over his words.

Corbin waved his hands in a criss-cross with a grimace. "I don't have time for this."

Rising, he dusted off his pants and headed for the master bedroom. After a few knocks, Clara's bare feet began slapping against the hardwood floor and she opened the door with a yawn.

"Good morning," she greeted, her hair in a wavy mess of knots. Behind her, Gunner slept naked on his belly with a sheet barely covering his bottom. Clara grinned and blocked Corbin's view. "What's up?"

"Jamie is at the door."

"Oh? I wasn't expecting him." She tightened her robe and weaved past him as they both set off down the hallway, but she paused in front of the spare room. "How's the patient?"

"Still out of it, but he's a tough old man and Lupe worked a miracle with his wound," Jasper answered, his eyes avoiding Corbin's. "Guess we learned our lesson about doing drunk shooting contests."

"Yeah, a stupid lesson that nearly killed your father! Who's idea was it to play target practice while drunk?"

"Not sure." Jasper shrugged. "Last night is fuzzy."

"Ugh! I can't believe you guys," Clara huffed and headed for the stairs. "And one of you go make coffee before I become more upset."

"Corbin, care to join me in the kitchen?" Jasper asked.

Moments later, they stood there waiting for the coffee to brew, as an albatross of confusion settled onto Corbin's shoulders. What kind of game was Luna playing? Did their kiss from the night before mean nothing? For a while, only the aroma of coffee and the sound of it percolating existed in the kitchen until words began tumbling from Jasper's mouth.

"It's not what you think."

"You've said that already." Corbin took a seat.

"Archibald isn't my actual father."

"I know."

Jasper's brows pushed together as he leaned against the counter. "Luna and I did nothing wrong."

"Listen, man, do I think it's weird? Yes, but that's your business, not mine."

"But you like her, I can tell, and part of me thinks she's fond of you too."

"Well, she didn't kiss me the way I saw her kiss you."

Jasper straightened his posture and cleared his throat. "You kissed Luna? When?"

"Last night at the party." Corbin shook his head. "She was drunk. It meant nothing."

The coffee machine gurgled, depositing the last drops of brown liquid into the glass carafe, and Corbin scooted his chair out with a screech. "I'll let Clara know it's ready."

As soon as he exited the kitchen, he pinched the bridge of his nose and blew out a breath. Of course, he'd lose Luna to Jasper. Relationships were often temporary in his life, so this wasn't any different. When he walked into the living room, his thoughts dissolved at the tears streaming down Clara's face.

She glanced at him when she heard his steps. "They found our neighbor, Gregory, dead this morning. It was suicide."

"I'm so sorry, Clara." Corbin swallowed, but he noticed the balled fists on her lap as her eyes narrowed at him.

Dodging her glare, he began rubbing his forehead, but the sunlight shining through the open front door blinked in his peripheral vision, catching his attention. A tall, bulky shape knocked on the storm door, but it was impossible to recognize who it was, thanks to the blinding light. Was it a Hound? Coldness drenched him like ice-water.

"What's wrong?" Clara asked and followed his gaze to the door, but sprang to her feet. "Coyote, you're here!"

"Sister," he said, opening the storm door and drawing her into his arms. When he kissed the top of her head, he did a double-take as his hawk-like grey eyes spotted Corbin. "Wait a second! Am I supposed to believe this strapping young man is the same pipsqueak who followed you around his grandfather's property?"

"It is!" Clara smiled, wiping her eyes.

"Well then, come here!" Coyote walked forward with arms out, doubling his size in the bear-fur coat he wore.

Corbin sunk into the familiar embrace like a little boy as his head rested against the tall cowboy's chest. The rough feel of fur and the light scent of tobacco filled his lungs as it transported him back to campfires in his grandfather's yard. Back when he was surrounded by his parent's laughter and acoustic guitar notes soaring into the evening sky. It was such a different time. A peaceful one—long before everyone scattered like the four winds after his parent's deaths.

"I can't tell who you look like more, your daddy, or your granddaddy!" Coyote exclaimed with a rough pat. "It's good to see you, kid."

"Good to see you too! I was on my way to visit you but then..."

"Then you got yourself into some trouble." Coyote cocked a brow as he removed his hat. "But don't worry, I'll get you to the border."

"Clara," Jamie cleared his throat and rose from the couch. "I see you've got company, so I'll be on my way."

"Thank you for stopping by." She walked him to the door. "What will you do with Gregory's cat?"

"Well..." Jamie glanced down and gave the creature's head a soft scratch. "He still has some years left in him, so I'll keep him."

"Good. I'm glad."

Jamie paused before stepping through the door. "Clara, if you ever need anything, just come to me and I'll help you."

"I will." She smiled, but after Clara closed the door, her expression dropped into an incinerating glare. "They lied to me."

"Who did?" Coyote quirked a brow.

"Them. All of them!" She motioned to the ceiling and faced Corbin. "Archibald didn't get hurt playing some drunk shooting game last night! They killed Gregory, didn't they?"

"I..." he muttered.

"I'm not stupid!" Clara wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her robe. "Miguel has never trusted that man. Why did he do it!?"

"Well, don't take it out on me!" All I know is Gregory was drunk at a bar last night and told everyone that you're a witcher and a Scout overheard."

"Oh, God..." Clara's body swayed, so she braced herself against the armrest of the couch.

"Sounds like they did it to protect you," Coyote said, his eyes shifting from Corbin to Clara.

"I. Don't. Care." She glared at him. "This community is tight-knit. They're going to put the pieces together!"

"Clara, it's ok."

"They'll arrest Miguel. They'll send him to Alcatraz!" She batted Coyote's hands away. "They opened it back up you know? They're sending criminals there to work on some water desalination factory. And they'll probably turn me over to The Hounds!"

"Clara." Coyote rubbed his peppered beard with a sigh. "You're getting too worked up. Do you honestly think I'd let that happen?"

Clara did another hard swipe across her face with her sleeve. "I'm so sick of you men acting like this is the wild west! You can't just kill as if your actions don't have consequences!"

"Listen, Clara." Coyote gripped her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. "The world is different now. With this drought, it's survival now. Understand? This entire country is the wild west. Just yesterday on the radio it said the Midwest is so dry people are behaving like savages. I'm talking about killing infants and the elderly, so there are fewer mouths to feed. There are even reports of cannibalism! So you need to harden your heart, little Sis because it's ugly out there."

"Cannibalism?" Corbin squeaked, and Coyote's grey eyes flashed to him.

"They're rumors, but every rumor has truth to it."

"Sometimes I wish I never left home..."

"Listen, kid, everything is going to be alright. We need to remain calm and think." Coyote turned to Clara, who's face was buried in her hands, so he wrapped his arms around her. "I know you've made Nevada your home, but it's time you and Gunner move up north to Bonners Ferry and live with me for a while."

"But I'm needed here."

"Not anymore," he let out a tired sigh. "I should head into town and find out what the rumor mill is churning."

"Miguel will go with you," Clara sniffled.

"No. It's safer if the three of you stay here. I'll have Luna and Jasper join me. We'll get this all sorted. I promise."

∆∆∆

The sun was slowly descending for the evening, with rays kissing the top of the mountains in a golden glow over everything it touched. Coyote parked his truck in front of the local food market and with his hands squeezing the steering wheel, he scanned the sidewalk in front of them. For a Sunday afternoon, the main strip in town seemed busy with shoppers.

"All we gotta do is keep our eyes and ears open," Gunner said, unbuckling his seatbelt. "This town is small, so I'm sure Gregory's death is the latest gossip on everyone's lips."

"Which is why you being here is a bad idea. You should've stayed home," Coyote replied.

"I'm a local. It would be suspicious if I vanished. I gotta stick to the routine."

"It's already suspicious that a man who was drunk at a bar last night and talking about Clara, turns up dead this morning!"

"Listen, Coyote, this is my Sunday routine. I come into town, buy things for dinner, chat with a few locals, and then go home. If I break that routine it'll raise questions."

"I don't have a good feeling. You were too hasty with your actions last night. You should've waited for me and we could've planned out something better. Something that wouldn't result in putting all of us in danger."

"It'll be fine." Gunner squeezed his brother-in-law's shoulder. "You know why I was so good working undercover across the border? Because I stuck to a routine. I never broke character. Now, the sooner we get this done, the sooner we can head up the mountain."

"Jasper and I will head for the produce section," Luna announced as they all slid out of the truck.

"Good. Then we'll go to the butcher." Gunner nodded.

"Remember, eyes and ears open." Coyote tapped his lobe and right as they were about to step foot inside the grocery store, a young man smoking a cigarette stopped them.

"Hey, hey..." he blew smoke from his nose and tucked a dark, greasy lock behind his ear.

"What's up Pete?"

"Got a few minutes?"

"Sure."

"This way." Pete motioned towards the alley. As Gunner followed, Coyote latched onto his arm and shook his head, side to side.

"Relax," Gunner mouthed and pulled his arm away.

In the alley, Pete stubbed out his cigarette and fished inside his green apron for another one. He lit the end and took a long drag as they waited for him to speak. The words escaped his mouth in curls of smoke as he finally said, "Since you put in a kind word with my probation officer, I want to do you a solid."

"Pete, enough with the suspense. Spit it out."

"Rusty is going around telling everyone that you killed Greg," he said, pointing at Gunner with the cigarette balancing between his fingers. "He remembers you saying a few years ago that you'd wring Greg's neck if he ever snitched about Clara being a... you know. So, if I were you, I'd get back in my car and head up the mountain before they see you. The energy around here ain't good."

"Thanks." Gunner patted his shoulder and winked. "I can handle a few angry locals. Come on Coyote, we've got some shopping to do."

"I'm telling you man, leave before they see you," Pete called out as they walked away.

"Maybe he's right," Coyote said.

The double doors of the grocery store bounced open as they approached, and the speaker system greeted them with cheerful country music. Heads turned in their direction as they walked towards the meat section, which made Coyote warier about Gunner coming along. They got to the butcher counter in one piece, and began waiting their turn, but when the patron ahead of them turned to leave, the atmosphere became stuffier.

"Oh... Miguel." The man's eyes widened.

"Hey, Nikko."

"You hear about Gregory?"

"Yeah. Sad news."

"Yeah..." Nikko nodded, a cast of suspicion in his stare. "It surprised me to hear that it was suicide. Greg didn't seem like the type."

"Well, people who are suicidal don't shout it from the rooftops," Gunner replied.

"No. I guess not."

"See ya, Nik."

"Yeah, see ya." He backed away.

When he was far enough, Coyote leaned into Gunner. "I'm getting a bad feeling. We should leave."

"Relax. Nikko only has his suspicions. Let's finish what started."

"I don't know." Coyote shook his head. "We've got an awful lot of people looking our way. I don't like it."

"Relax..." Gunner stepped forward to give his order. "Hey, Lenny. I'll take my usual."

"Miguel, I'm surprised to see you here," the butcher replied.

"Why? It's Sunday."

"Yes, and Gregory was found dead."

"And?" Gunner asked.

"And there are a lot of whispers floating around that it wasn't a suicide." Lenny cocked his brow at him. "Witnesses are saying they saw Grey at the bar last night and he was talking about Clara being a witcher. Others are saying they saw one of your cousins at the bar too. Then Greg shows up dead this morning."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Lenny. Gregory was a troubled man, and it only got worse after Annabeth left him. Everyone knows that."

"Yes, and how convenient for you."

"Do we have a problem, Lenny?" Gunner leaned forward, narrowing his eyes.

"Nope, but you might have one on your hands. Especially with Rusty going around telling people he thinks you killed Greg."

"And what do you think?"

Lenny stared at Gunner for several beats of silence and then drummed the countertop. "I think if you're a smart man, you'd get out of dodge. Better to be safe than sorry."

"You know what I'm going to do, Len? I'm going to take my cut of meat, head home, and do some grilling for my family. Because as you can see, my brother-in-law is in town." Gunner patted Coyote's back.

"Stubborn man..." Lenny muttered, but turned around and began preparing Gunner's order.

By the time they finished paying and walked to the entrance, Luna and Jasper were waiting for them. Luna wiggled the bag in her hand and said, "we've got enough veggies for kabobs and salsa but we had to pick through a pile of produce that's seen better days."

"Sounds about right." Gunner nodded. "The last few harvests produced sub-par vegetables, thanks to the drought. We take what we can get these days."

"I'm not used to it," Luna replied. "We grow our own produce in Tahoe and use the lake water to irrigate."

"Guess we're a little spoiled living there," Jasper added.

"So what's the word?" Coyote asked.

"Lots of whispering about Gunner," Jasper replied. "Especially once you two walked in."

"Not good." Coyote shook his head. "We should get moving. In fact, we need to leave and head north. All of you can stay with me at my cabin."

"Let's not panic so soon," Gunner replied. "Let's figure things out at home."

They followed Gunner with reluctant steps as he walked through the sliding glass doors, and when they got outside, their concerns came to fruition as angry locals swarmed the street—demanding answers.

"Brace yourselves," Gunner said. "We've got a feisty mob on our hands."

To be continued...