Early in the morning there was a soft, but rapid knocking on the door of my motel room. As I went to answer the door, I saw through the curtained window the silhouette of a figure hurry away. Upon opening the door, I looked for the figure, but saw no sign of it. Instead, a note had been left on the welcome mat. It read: "Bill, don't leave your house tonight. I need to talk to you." Somehow, I thought, its author knows that allowed back at my house today. It's been 4 months since I've been kicked off my property by those agents. I'll be glad to be home. That is, if this figure's intentions aren't maleficent. I ate breakfast, finished whatever packing I had left to do, and returned my keys to the motel's owner. Then, I was on my way. Several hours passed, and I had mostly finished unpacking, when I heard the same familiar knock on the door. I leaned my rifle close on the wall, out of sight when I would open the door. The knock came again. "Bill," the figure whispered. A opened the door to find a stran-- wait, no I recognized him. It was one of the guys from Mickey's a couple weeks back. "Harry," I said slowly, uncertain, "right?" "I'm glad you recognize me, Bill. You mind if I come in?" ------ "I want to go up to James's farm, Bill. Something ain't right with all this. James and Deputy Stewart growing and selling weed? That's a crock of shit, and everyone knows it." I sighed, knowing he was right. "Well, why do you want me?" "I figured you'd be pissed off enough at those SOB's for kicking you out of here for so long that you'd want to get back at 'em. Plus, we'll not have a ton of time to search for any clues, so more guys means we're more likely to find something." I noted his use of the word "we." "You make a good case, Harry..." "So you're in? Out of respect for the old man, I invited Sheriff Clark, too." "And he's fine with this?" "Oh, he's more than fine with it! He was all set to retire, but they went and took Stew from him!" We both chuckled lowly. It'd been more funny if we weren't talking about the man's fate. "He says all the agents have left, except for maybe a guard of two." "And how will we avoid them?" Hell, he got me thinking "we", too. "We'll head up in the dead of night, tonight, and pray they're sleeping." "Alright, Harry." -------- Sheriff Clark pounded on my door at midnight; he had walked the better part of 5 miles to reach my house. "Cruiser woulda been too obvious," he grunted. "Old man's still got some kick in him," I thought, impressed. I instantly went to the kitchen to make him some tea. "Get comfortable, Sheriff, we'll head out in an hour's time," I shouted from the kitchen. "For now, we'll discuss the plan." I gave Sheriff his tea and we gathered around a table. Harry began: "James's farm is down the road east a couple miles. We'll walk north then east around the perimeter of the fence. If all's clear, we'll approach the farmhouse when convenient. If not, we'll push further east, then south, then back westward, and approach from behind the house. Stealth is the plan. Everybody of board?" Clark said nothing, but nodded his head in approval. "Yes," I whispered. "You boys have any guns on you?" Clark asked, staring at my rifle on the wall. "Just that one there," I returned. "How about you, Harrison?" "No, sir, just a knife." He grunted in reply. "I have to show you boys something first." Clark pulled out his phone and a message began playing: "Hey Sheriff, it's me, Stewart. Something mighty strange is going down at James's farm. I need you immediately, sir." Harry and I sat in silenced, stunned. "That's why I'm here," Clark stated proudly. "Does anyone know about this?" Harry asked, recovering from his shock. Sheriff Clark shook his head sadly. "Just me." -------- The walk around the perimeter was largely uneventful. The night was silent except for the quiet patter of our feet. Clark led the way, followed by Harry, then myself. "A gun in front, a gun behind," Sheriff had instructed. We had continued on this way for a little more than an hour when Clark stopped short. Harry and I caught up, and Harry looked around. We all remained motionless, listening for any sign of life from the farm. Harry nodded, and we turned south towards the house, hopping the fence. We were a hundred yards out when Sheriff Clark froze again, but this time he dropped to the ground. Harry and I followed suit almost immediately. A black van, hardly visible in the absence of light, rumbled away from the house. As light escaped, a silhouette of a man could be seen entering back into a tent outside James's house. We laid in the scrub for what seemed like hours before daring to move again. There was no noise or movement from inside the tent, and the van seemed long gone. Clark gave a soft whisper and began crawling forward. Harry and I followed, crossing the path of the tent. All remained silent in the darkness of the night, and in this way, we made it to the house. ------- The inside of the house was devastated; furniture was ripped apart and strewn everywhere, books lie scattered across the ground, and anything once of the walls was now sitting in broken heaps. Nobody said anything, but we exchanged knowing glances and split up to search the house. Harry went upstairs and Sheriff Clark searched around any window in sight of the tent. I made towards the kitchen, making note of the gentle rustle of the other two. A smashed picture of James and Maria made me sad, but I continued searching. We had no idea what we were looking for, but we knew James, Maria, and Deputy Stewart were all innocent. We had to do this. I'd been searching through drawers and cabinets when I realized I couldn't hear the Sheriff anymore. At a speed between fast yet quiet, Clark found me. I remember he looked mortified, and I wondered why. My eyes fell to a book in his hands. I began to whisper "what's wrong, Sher--" but was interrupted by Harry running down the staircase. "We've got company," he exclaimed. Sheriff Clark handed me the book and said "Go! Make haste. I'll follow if I can." He pulled his pistol from its hostler and pushed us towards the back door. There was no time to argue, but I now wish I did. Harry and I fled east as fast as we could. Then, a bang shattered the peace of the night. "Oh, God." I thought. We hopped the eastern border's fence and kept running. Hours passed and sunrise began. Harry and I fell to the ground in exhaustion. I hadn't thought of the book until now, which at this moment, I realized was a journal. I opened it's cover. "Property of Deputy John Stewart."