Jack woke to the distinctive sound of someone peeing off the side of the tent. He groaned, rolling heavily over. "Ty-ler!" He croaked, keeping the sleeping bag over his head.

Giggles. "It's not me, Jack," came Tyler's laughing voice.

With another groan, Jack managed to work his sleeping bag down far enough to see across the amazingly messy tent. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. "Nat??" He demanded incredulously.

"They dared me!" Nat said proudly, fastening his pajamas. He glanced around the tent with a superior air. "You all owe me six magic cards each!"

"And you, buddy, get to clean the latrines today." Jack yawned hugely.

"That's not fair!!"

"Ah, there's the Nat I remember," Jack said, easing himself out of his bag. "I thought for a moment aliens had stolen your body."

"They did!" Jermyn shouted. "They replaced his brain with chili dogs!"

For some reason this made them all collapse into helpless laughter (even Nat joined in after a moment), and Jack's spirits rose faintly. Plowing through the piles of dirty clothing (despite the laundry done three days ago), Jack seized Nat around the middle, upended him (he squawked in surprise), and gave him a good shake before tossing him on his bunk. "Has reveille blown?" He asked his now active campers.

"Like hours ago!" Tyler replied, reaching for pants. "You didn't even move!"

"Hey!" Nat suddenly said, peering at Jack. "You slept in your clothes!"

"And your hair looks like a porcupine," Jermyn added, and the giggles erupted again.

"No, like an electrocuted porcupine!" Spencer contributed.

"That lost a fight with a lawnmower!" Tyler added.

"I'll lawnmower you," Jack threatened, advancing, and Tyler hastily fled for the washhouse. "Don't forget your hats and boots," Jack reminded the other boys. "It's Cowpoke Day!" And he threw up the tent flaps, letting in a flood of sunlight.

He could only hope Ty was doing the same.



The Jabberwockys, chronically late for every meal, made no exception this morning. Jack herded them with more frustration than usual; he wanted to find Ty. But Nat refused to brush his teeth and Jermyn had no clean underwear and Spencer cut his finger and they were all crowding around the Wanted posters and exclaiming, returners who'd seen the skit lording it over the newcomers.

At last, though, Jack managed to coerce them into their usual seats in the cacophany of the dining porch, higher pitched than usual this morning. Jack craned his neck towards the Cougars' table...and felt cold. Keith sat in Ty's place, laughing at something Mark had said, laying a brief hand on the boy's shoulder. Jason sat across from them, serving pancakes.

Keith caught Jack's gaze, and mutely lifted his coffee mug. Understanding, Jack left his boys arguing over the chocolate malto meal, and headed for the kitchen. In the steamy, crowded public area, full of campers shuttling in and out for refills on pancakes and cereal, Jack joined Keith at the coffee urn. Jack filled his cup automatically, but his eyes locked on Keith. "Well?" He asked in a low voice.

Keith topped off his mug and reached for the sugar. "He's all right, Jack. Or Luke thinks he will be. He's in the Health House at the moment, just to wind down and get some sleep--Luke didn't come in until I was getting up this morning." Yawning, he stirred his drink.

"But he's all right?" A camper bumped Jack and coffee sloshed on Jack's boots, but he hardly noticed.

"I haven't seen him, but Luke's a pretty good judge." Keith's dark eyes were keen. "Don't expect miracles, Jack. Luke told me some of what happened--what he felt he could, without breaking confidences--and I just...think it'll take time."

"Will Ty stay here?"

"Don't know." Keith pressed up against the wall to let three little girls pass. "Depends." He glanced towards some counselors just entering. "We'd better get back to our boys."

Nodding, Jack threaded his way back to his table, just in time to hear cap shots down the corral road. The whole dining porch stilled at the thunder of hooves, and moments later Stinky Stu--complete with bandana, chaps, cap guns, and bad attitude--hauled his horse up in front of the porch. "You!" He barked to Travis. "Hold my horse!"

"Uh, yes sir, yes sir! Don't shoot, sir!" Travis cried cravenly, running to obey.

Stinky Stu strode arrogantly onto the porch, shooting mean looks right and left as the kids giggled. "What is this place? Some kind of lunatic asylum?"

"Yes!" Several people called back, mostly counselors.

"You!" Snapped Stu, pointing at a little girl. "You tell me!"

"It's Secret Creek Camp!" She replied with a grin.

"Well, then, I'm at the right place." Stu hitched up his belt and sneered. "I hear you prairie chickens are having some kind of Cowpoke Day today. Am I right?"

"Yes!" Chorused the campers.

"Well, you can think again!" Stu laughed nastily. "You can't have your precious Cowpoke Day, and you know why?"

"Why?" Shouted the kids.

"Because *I* kidnapped the Cowpoke Queen!" Stu replied proudly, receiving a chorus of boos.

Jack sipped his coffee as he watched the skit, Stu stomping around, flinging pancakes like frisbees, ripping down one of the Wanted posters ("My mother always said she wanted a good picture of me."), emptying the pebbles in his boot onto someone's plate, laughing at Rick's pathetic attempt at cowboy attire (a flowered bandana and a t-shirt from 'Ted's Down Under Steakhouse--Where we never "steer" you wrong'), and generally behaving reprehensibly.

As he clattered out, he shouted over his shoulder, "There's some wimpy people after me, but they'll never get me. And you'll never get your Cowpoke Queen back!" Then he took a flying leap onto his horse and pounded out the gate. Moments later all three other riding counselors galloped breakneck onto the road, hauling up and demanding to know where Stu had gone. They ignored the kids' pointing hands, and thundered up the road past TR. A few moments later they skidded back, protesting, then finally rode out the gate. A hectic chase ensued, around TR, up towards the corral, back out the gate, and at last Stu's horse trotted by, riderless. Soon the other counselors rode back in, Sarah leading Stu with a lasso.

The campers cheered and jeered. "I don't care!" Stu proclaimed. "You can keep your stupid Cowpoke Queen! She's ugly, anyway! I'll be back!" And the skit was over until next session.



When breakfast finished, Deanna, a substitute counselor (not having a group this session, she took over when other counselors had days or periods off), unexpectedly joined Jack's group. "Travis said you had something to do, Jack, so I'll take your boys until the activities start."

"All right!" Tyler leered at her. She laughed and tousled his hair.

Jack blinked, then glanced over at Travis. Travis nodded, and Jack mouthed, "Thank you!" before handing the campers over to Deanna. After a brief stop at the Art Palace, he hurried to the Health House.

"Risa?" He knocked tentatively, and the nurse opened the door. She was a young woman with capable hands and short, dark hair.

"Jack. Travis said you'd be by. Ty's not awake yet, but you can go sit with him if you want."

"He's all right, isn't he?"

"So far as I know. Luke brought him over last night and said he just needed to crash for a few hours without kids. I take it Keith is with the Cougars?"

"Yeah," Jack said distantly, trying to see around her.

She sighed. "I don't suppose you'll tell me what happened, either?"

Jack glanced at her. He didn't know her well, but he liked what he knew. "I can't, sorry. It's...kind of personal."

"I figured," she said philosophically. Then she turned and picked up a tray bearing the remains of breakfast. Another, untouched, sat beside it. "I'd better get this back to the kitchen. That's for Ty, if he wants it." Her dark blue eyes appraised Jack. "I'll be in the office if you need me."

He threw her a grateful smile. "Thanks, Risa."

She shrugged. "It's my job. See you later, Jack." And she departed with her tray.

Jack glanced around the small room. The Health House consisted of this central room, with all the records and equipment, Risa's room, a bathroom, and two rooms with cots for sick campers. Entering the first, sunlight leaking around the curtains, Jack saw Ty asleep by the window. His face was pale, hair mussed, lashes black against his skin. Perching gingerly on the single chair, Jack also noticed that Ty was holding his Bible, which Luke or Keith must have retrieved for him. Jack hoped that was a good sign. Looking closer, Jack then spotted a neat bandage on Ty's left wrist. Although Risa had failed to mention it, she must have guessed what Ty had tried. Jack's respect for Travis in choosing his core staff rose a notch.

At that moment, perhaps sensing another presence, Ty twitched. Shifting position, he licked his lips, then opened his eyes tentatively. He blinked. "Jack?"

"Yeah," Jack replied quietly. "How do you feel?"

"Like crap." Ty licked his lips again. "And like I've been eating glue," he added.

"There's some breakfast--"

"Later," Ty frowned, rolling over. He glanced at the curtains. "Is that actual sunlight?"

Jack nodded. "A perfect Cowpoke Day."

"I missed the skit," Ty said ruefully. "How was Stu?"

"Stinky," Jack smiled faintly. "You'll see it next session." A pause ensued. "...Won't you?"

Ty fingered his blankets. "I don't know, Jack."

Both were still a moment. Then Ty flicked hazel eyes towards Jack. "Sorry," he apologized in a low voice.

"It's all right," Jack returned, equally low. He fiddled with the cuff of his flannel shirt. "Did...Luke help you?"

Ty fisted a hand in the green curtain, circa 1948 from the looks of it. "Luke...listened. Told me a lot of things he'd gone through. How he'd figured stuff out. Went over some different approaches to...certain Bible passages."

"And did it help?"

"I don't know," Ty stated honestly. "I feel...kind of numb."

"But...do you believe in God again?"

Ty frowned, dropping the curtain and fumbling for his Bible. He studied the well-worn cover, but did not open it. "I have a lot of thinking to do, Jack. I either have to shift my beliefs 90 degrees, or..." With a grimace, he displayed his wrist. "I suppose if I do believe in God, it's just a question of which sin would be worse."

"If...one of them *is* a sin," Jack put in hesitantly.

"Right." Ty laid wrist and Bible back down. "Try telling that to my Dad."

"Can't be worse than my Dad," Jack countered.

"You think not?" Ty inquired. "You've never met my Dad. He'll beat me bloody if he ever finds out."

Jack swallowed. "Sorry."

"And my mother will cry, and look at me as if I've stabbed her," Ty went on fretfully, tugging at the curtain again. "And my sister..." Then he glanced back at Jack. "You don't know how lucky you are."

"Getting there," Jack replied, folding his hands. "And...I don't know what to tell you, Ty. I'm...sorry I couldn't help you more."

"Don't say that," Ty retorted, raising up on one elbow. His hazel eyes were clear. "I know exactly what you did for me last night, and...thanks seems sort of inadequate." Color rose in his cheeks. "I'm sorry for...everything I said, everything I did. I guess I kind of lost it."

"You weren't the only one," mumbled Jack, also coloring as he recalled the taste of blood in his mouth. Ty's blood. Ty's tongue. "Did you mean it?" Jack demanded suddenly, needing to know.

"Mean what?" Ty's eyes were guarded.

"About...wanting me," Jack returned softly, forcing himself to focus on the other boy.

Ty laid back, hands over his face. "Shit."

Jack's jaw clenched. "Sorry. I...had to ask."

Then, "Did *you* mean it?" Ty mumbled through his hands. "About... wanting *me*?"

Jack stared at him until the other counselor dared a glance. Their eyes locked. "I meant it," Jack whispered. "I didn't really know it--admit it to myself--but I meant it. I..." He took a deep breath. "I still mean it."

"Shit." Ty covered his face again.

"It's all right," Jack comforted. "I don't expect anything. I know you...lost it. I know you were just looking for anything to...hang on to, and I was the closest thing. It's all right," he repeated.

"No, it isn't." Ty removed his hands and turned on his side, facing Jack. A bar of sunlight striped his face. "I meant every word I said last night, Jack. *Every* word. Losing it or not, it was all just stuff I'd been hiding, coming out at once."

Jack's heart beat faster. Their eyes held, uncertain. "So...where does that leave us?"

"God. I don't know, Jack. I'm so messed up...I need time..."

"Then take it. As much as you want," Jack urged. "I want you to be 100% sure. If it's meant to be..." Then he had to bite his lip. Dumbly he stretched out his hand, and automatically Ty took it. His fingers were strong and warm. "Just don't leave me," Jack whispered.

Ty blinked, and their fingers tightened. "I'll try not to, Jack."

For several long moments they just sat, hands clasped, listening to the distant murmur of camp. Then Jack reluctantly rose, still holding Ty's hand. "I'd...better go."

Ty nodded, releasing his hand slowly. "I'll...be okay. Eventually." His eyes met Jack's again. "Thanks, Jack."

"You're welcome." Jack rubbed his hands on his shirt a trifle nervously, then abruptly reached into his breast pocket and pulled something out. "I didn't draw you for Goodwill, but I made this, and...I thought it would do you more good than me. Here."

Lifting himself on one elbow, Ty took the gift. It was a small twig bent into a loop, webbed with string and a few blue glazed beads, and dangling with three bluejay feathers. "It's...a dreamcatcher," he said, voice catching.

"Well, as I said, I...thought you could use it."

The beads sparkled in the bar of sunlight, and the feathers twisted gently. "...Thanks, Jack. Let's hope it works."

Jack nodded, shot Ty one more look, then backed out of the room.



Jack remembered little of that busy morning, herding the boys from one activity to another, until he encountered Stu at the keyhole race. As another counselor was actually running the event (Stu was just checking on each activity), Jack handed his boys over and went to stand with Stu. The sun beat down on the extensive back pasture, and Jack had long since stripped to his t-shirt.

After several moments of watching the boys try, one by one, to keep the camp's biggest horse inside the keyhole pattern, Jack faced Stu. "You knew, didn't you?" He accused softly.

Stu tipped his hat back, eyeing the current rider. The other boys were searching out manure chips to throw at any girls they met. "I guessed," Stu replied without guilt. Then he cast Jack a look. "But I don't get involved."

"B.S." Jack asserted, folding his arms.

They watched several moments longer.

Then, "Thanks," Jack ventured, dropping his eyes and kicking the dry grass. "For last night, I mean."

Stu shrugged. "Is he all right?"

"Not yet. I hope he will be."

The riding counselor threw Jack a shrewd look. He'd guessed even more than just Ty's predicament. "You know, you can do much better, Jack."

Jack didn't even bother to act surprised or puzzled. "Better? I don't know," he objected. "You said he was fake, and he was, but now...none of us knows what the real Ty is like. Not even Ty."

"Not better, then, but less complicated. Less high-maintenance," Stu averred.

Jack watched Spencer groan as Big Red trod on the chalk outline. "I know," Jack agreed with Stu. "But...what if he's worth it?"

"Can't answer that," Stu conceded. "Out of my hands."

"Second sight not working today?"

Stu laughed. "I just notice things, McPhee."

Jack glanced at him, lifting his dark, winged brows. "So what did you notice about me? When I got here, I mean. What gave me away?"

Stu shoved hands in his back pockets. "I was the one who called your references," he grinned under his moustache. "You think Trav has time to do all the work himself?"

Jack's jaw dropped. "You...you..."

Stu laughed, ambling over to aid the hapless Nat. When he returned, wiping sweat from under his hatband, he grinned again. "I never claimed to be psychic."

"So...Travis asked you to keep an eye on me?"

"Why would he do that?" Stu snorted. "He doesn't hire people who need looking after."

"Then...why did you show me around camp and invite me to the poker games?" Jack queried, confused.

"Do I need a reason?" Stu asked. Then he threw Jack brief look. "...You seemed real."

"Really?" Jack considered that, quietly pleased. "That's one of the nicest things anyone's said about me." Then he pondered. "But I was hiding things, too."

"But not from yourself," Stu pointed out. He fanned away a fly. "So...will you stay in hiding?"

Jack considered.

The boys had almost completed the event, most having disqualified themselves. Big Red, being part draft horse, had enormous hooves. Jack smiled at his campers; they seemed unfazed by their misfortunes.

At length, Jack answered Stu's question. "I don't think I'll come out to everyone. Camp's supposed to be about the kids, and I don't want to become an issue. People shouldn't be focusing on me. But...maybe to a few people." He flushed. "And I suppose it partly depends on what happens with Ty."

"Fair enough."

The Jabberwockys were finished. In a cheerfully noisy clump, dropping a trail of dried manure chips, they headed for Jack. "That's my cue. Gotta go," Jack told Stu.

Stu nodded. "Take it easy, Jack. Things'll work out. One way or another."

"Thus speaketh the eminent sage," Jack grinned, dodging manure chips. "Try to keep one step ahead of those lynch mobs, eh?"

With regrettable accuracy Stu spun a manure chip at him, then headed off towards the egg and spoon race.



After a dusty but rewarding morning, the Jabberwockys devoured their chuckwagon cookout on the big field with the rest of the camp. As he fumbled with his paper plate and baked beans, Jack watched Keith with the Cougars. He noticed, to his surprise, that Mark was nowhere to be seen. When his boys raced off to join an impromptu game of ultimate, Jack made his way to the bonfire pit (now the 'chuckwagon'), where a similarly camperless Keith was watching Travis fry up the last burgers. Sunlight sparkled on Secret Creek, and the baking spruces gave off the incongruous scent of Christmas. It mingled with the charcoal smell of the fire, and the greasy odor of the grilling burgers.

"Jack!" Travis grinned, offering him an extremely well-done patty. "Hungry?"

"No thanks. My doctor has strictly forbidden me to eat hockey pucks before the new moon," Jack replied, eyeing the burger dubiously.

"It'll probably keep until then," Travis shrugged, tossing it on a pile of similar failures.

Jack turned to Keith. "I noticed Mark wasn't with your group. Is he sick?"

Keith pushed a wavy lock of hair off his tanned face. "Nope. He took lunch to Ty, and I guess he's still there."

Jack blinked. "Was...that his own idea?"

"Ty asked for him," Keith replied with an arch of his brows. "Said he wanted to apologize."

Easing himself onto a log, Jack tried to assimilate this. "Well...that's good news. I hope." Then he recalled that neither Keith nor Travis actually knew what he'd been discussing with Mark, whatever they might guess. Rolling in the hay with anyone was strictly forbidden for campers, so Jack knew he had to tread carefully. "Ty was kind of rough on Mark last night," he explained. "Being out of the tent and all."

"Mmm," replied Keith, with a sardonic expression. He didn't ask for elucidation, however, and a moment later went to join the game of ultimate. As he passed, he squeezed Jack's shoulder.

Travis started cleaning up, and Jack rose to help. "The Jabberwockys having a good day?" The director inquired, throwing his filthy cooking implements in a tub.

"I think we'll be in last place, but we're having fun!" Jack smiled, dropping a bag of garbage in the trailer attached to the tractor. "And we're all good and dirty, too."

"Well, that's what the swimming event is for," Travis told him, glancing towards the water. "You'll all get the chance to swim bareback around Potlatch Island. It's the most popular activity!"

Secret Creek, like the Snowmelt, was a glacier-fed stream. Jack had fallen in enough times while kayaking with his boys to know just how teeth-chattering cold it was. Still, with this sun... "I guess that'll feel good," he acknowledged, brushing sweat from his forehead as he hefted a box of unused burgers.

Shoving a box of beans into the trailer, Travis paused to consider Jack. His dark eyes were astute. "Everything all right, Jack?"

Jack rubbed hands on his jeans, watching the inflated frisbee game spreading out over the field. Soon Ray and his wife, lounging by a clump of hemlocks, would have to move or be trampled. "Everything's fine with me, Trav," he answered after a moment. Then he cast the director a glance. "But I still feel like an idiot."

Travis snorted. "No need. I know what Keith went through, and I'll respect any choice you make. So long as it doesn't affect the camp or the campers, it's none of my business." He reached for the tub of implements. They clanged and clattered as the tub landed in the trailer.

"I won't tell the campers. Or most of the counselors," Jack told him. "I don't want it to become an issue." Then he felt forced to add, "That's...only part of why I didn't say anything when I got here, though."

Travis lifted a hand. "As I said, your affair. I only want to know if it affects the camp." Again his eyes assessed Jack. "...Anything else you need to tell me?"

Jack shook his dark head. "I only tell my own secrets," he avowed.

"Best way to go about it." Travis heaved the last urn of punch into the trailer, and Jack followed with the last tub of watermelon. "Thanks. Better round up your boys and try to make them rest for a little while. It'll be a long afternoon and evening."

Jack nodded and turned to go. Then he rotated, and licked dry lips. "I...just want to say thanks," he said in a rush. "For hiring me...for trusting me," he added when Travis shot him an interrogative look.

"No need to thank me," Travis replied, running fingers through his curls. "I thought you'd make a good Secret Creeker. I was right." He smiled. "Go get the Jabberwockys."

"I hope I have the energy!" Jack grinned, and strode off to retrieve his boys.



The afternoon proved as busy as the morning, with a few more Cowpoke Day activities (the Creek was just as cold on horseback as when falling out of a plastic kayak), then the play (a confusing compilation of tales from the 'Mrs. Piggle Wiggle' books). Afterwards Jack badgered his boys into their cleanest outfits (which meant whatever had not been on the floor or the dirt or balled up under the tent for three weeks) and urged them, late, of course, over to the Rainforest Cafe for the Goodwill dinner, the last of the session.

As he got them settled, just before the pre-meal song, Jack glanced over to the Cougars. He saw no counselor, but noticed to his surprise that Mark was actually sitting next to Jason. Jason looked as shuttered as usual, and Mark wore a slightly nervous expression, but he nonetheless smiled gratefully at Jack and gave him a faint nod of reassurance. Returning the smile and the nod, Jack then had to refocus on his own table to keep Tyler from forking Nat in a tempting but sensitive portion of his anatomy.

And when he glanced back to the Cougars' table, he saw Ty.

Jack felt color rise in his cheeks, but he didn't look away, even as they all rose to sing. Ty was listening to something Naaol was saying, but then, as if feeling Jack's eyes, lifted his gaze to the Jabberwockys' table. He still looked worn out and pale, but clean and brushed and rife with hidden promise. And now Jack didn't have to smother his internal reaction, even from himself, as he realized he'd been doing for weeks. He ventured a small smile as the campers began singing 'Johnny Appleseed.'

And felt warmth in his stomach at Ty's hesitant, returned smile.

Turning back to the singers, Jack experienced a surge of well being. He knew nothing was certain, but...it was a start. A far better start than they'd had before, and one which, before last night, he'd never even anticipated.

The golden evening sunlight spilled like apple cider on the trees, and the warm air lingered with scents of evergreen and fresh bread. The summer had weeks and weeks to run, full of activities, songs, campfires...and unfolding secrets. Joining his voice with the rest of the camp, Jack sang with good will.