Attempt

Sparky wanders out to the porch of the dining hall and leans on the railing, scanning the ranch yard. All was quiet. Peaceful. A chill was in the air and he pulls his jacket a little tighter. Another day gone... another twenty-four hours dispersed into memory.

Turning to head down the steps, he happens to glance inside the window once more. His eye catches sight of Annie and Faith, chatting with Jim and Becky at the table. Friends and family were two of the greatest blessings in life.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he trudges down the steps and wanders to the bunkhouse, his stride slow.


"Seriously?" The corners of Eli's mouth twitch as he stands in Ryan's kitchen, looking at the tickets Leo had given her. He transforms a laugh into a cough, though it's obvious from his eyes that he's holding back the humor he sees in this.

"A musical, huh?" He clears his throat, letting her keep the tickets. "I, um... think that sounds like just the thing for you and Leo. As a matter of fact, I think I'd probably just be in the way, so you can go then tell me all about it when you come back."

Locking eyes with his sister, something finally comes out, sounding like a combination of a snicker and a choke. "But you'll have to be sure and sing all the songs for me."


Gunner is jolted as the van hits a pothole. Barely opening his eyes, his police instincts kick in and he remains quiet and still, trying to figure out what was going on. They were in a moving vehicle. Going at a pretty fast pace - must be a back street or outskirts of town. Keeping his eyes closed to narrow slits, he sees the police officer Bryant, and the thug Roger. In the front of the van were the two doctors and Bree slumped over unconscious. Where were they being taken?

Bree's confession of her past echos in Gunner's mind. Was this connected? It had to be. But why had they taken him too? Just because he'd gotten in the way? But if they both were held, there would be no hope of escape.

Adrenaline builds in his veins, his heartrate quickening. He could feel the cuffs tight on his wrists - he was virtually helpless. But any dent would weaken a structure and if he made enough dents, there might be some hope.

Shooting up from the floor, he lunges for Roger with a loud growl. Plowing into him head first, he takes him to the floor, giving him a hard headbutt to the mouth and a knee right where it hurts.

Taken totally by surprise, Bryant's eyes widen. He'd thought Gunner was still unconscious. "Why you..." On top of him quickly, he grabs his nightstick and in one blow, Gunner was motionless once again. Grumbling, Bryant drags Gunner off Roger and back to the corner. "This guy weighs a ton. Roger, you alright?"


Mr. Conner sits behind his large oak desk, his hands folded in front of him, his face expressionless. He turns his head to look at his wife as she hangs up the phone. "It's for the best," he reasons, his voice cold compared to the temperature of the room. "She never was right."

A whirring behind him causes him to turn as a fax comes through. Taking the paper, he scans it quickly then hands it to his wife. It was a signed document from Crescentview Mental Facility, agreeing upon the suggested terms for Bree's stay. Radical treatment was required. Outside visitors would be strictly prohibited indefinitely, until mental stability could be proven. Under no circumstances was Jack Timble to be allowed on the premises. The legal documents signed by the judge had been received, and they bound any family member to these terms. Only Mr. or Mrs. Conner could take legal action in having the agreement modified. In case of their death, the case would be turned over to the state, not extended family.

"I think that should cover it." Mr. Conner stands and smooths out his suit, tightening his tie. "Shall we go have lunch now?"