Notes, Timelines, etc. This is a crossover, AU for The Sentinel and Power Rangers, not AU for Bonanza. Only the characters' names, basic personalities and physical likenesses are used from Power Rangers, no other aspects of the series, so familiarity with the show is not necessary. The concept of 'Sentinels' and 'Guides' are used from The Sentinel, and other characters from the series will be worked in as needed. This is the second story in the series, following "Always Room For More" and picking up where that story left off. This particular chapter is mostly a bridge, in effect. Clears up some of the questions from "Always Room for More" and sets the stage for some future events.

Series: Cascade Tribe

Warning, rating: Some mention and depiction of physical abuse of children and others, some rough language. Nothing really graphic, but a firm PG, just to be safe.

Jim Ellison tossed another chunk of wood on the fire, hoping to push back at least some of the chill night air from his sleeping companions. Awakened by the sudden throb of pain when he inadvertently rolled over on his injured shoulder, the Sentinel decided to make the most of his wakefulness even as he struggled a little with the pain dial. The last few days had been stressful and exhausting, resulting in injuries to both himself and his Guide, who slept the sleep of the utterly drained a few feet away. As was the norm when he was weary, Ellison was having trouble controlling his senses, especially touch and hearing. A few words from Blair would solve the problem, but the older man was reluctant to disturb his friend's much needed rest.

What should have been a fairly routine delivery job they accepted from Aaron Stemple and Jason Bolt of Seattle turned into an odyssey of attempts on their lives, culminating with a total of six dead bad guys, Blair having been stabbed, Jim having been shot, and a traumatized ten-year-old boy being taken in by the two men. All-in-all, a lot to have happen in four days' time, even by their standards.

Jim's gaze fell upon the smaller mound of bedding, near Sandburg's spot, and the barely discernable rise and fall as the child slept soundly. They knew only his name was Billy, and that his father was a traveling apothecary, whose fate was as yet unknown to them. The youngster had not spoken a word to anyone since Jim and Blair had rescued him from the two men who had been amusing themselves by torturing the little boy.

The Sentinel gave a soft growl of contentment, seeing his two companions safe and secure in their camp, and that feeling of contentment gave him enough leverage to bring his sense of touch back in line. Settling back down in his own bedroll, he closed his eyes, relaxing his body and letting his mind drift back five years, to the first time he and Blair had headed home to Cascade...

***Ellison had fought Bold Hawk for possession of his Guide, sparing the brave's life, though his honor had taken a fatal wound, as it were. After the battle their mentor, the ancient medicine man, Tachopey, had informed the pair that it was time for them to leave the tribe and find their own destinies with their own people.

"I don't get it. Where does he think we're supposed to go?" Blair wondered, pacing their lodge restlessly, much to Jim's amusement.

"Chief, you didn't really think we'd stay with the tribe permanently, did you? Be realistic here. And don't you want to go back East? Finish up your schooling? Get your degree?" the older man queried.

"There was a time that was ALL I wanted in life. But now? No, school doesn't appeal to me, especially Harvard. They have no...no idea...what life out here is like. They...we... thought we were so good, so much better than those 'rough westerners'. But now I know different. Dry academia just isn't appealing, not after all that's happened to me in the last few months. I don't know just how to say it, but I guess I want to live, you know? Live. Do. Experience. Be a part of life, not just study it. And I'm rambling, aren't I?" he finished up, flushing in mild embarrassment.

"No more so than usual, Chief. So do you have someplace to call 'home'?" Ellison wondered.

"Not really. School was the closest thing I ever knew to a home. Naomi didn't settle down in any place long enough to put down roots. And since she died..." Blair's voice trailed off. The younger man had rarely spoken of his childhood, or his late mother, but Jim had a sense of the unconventional upbringing his Guide had experienced.

"Well, I was on my way back to Cascade when I was captured, so I was figuring I'd go ahead and finish the trip. If you don't have anywhere else you need to be, you could tag along. My place there isn't much, but...at least we can rest for a while, figure out what we want to do," the Sentinel suggested with an oddly endearing hesitancy.

Blair was observant enough to see this was more than just a casual invitation; he could sense a mild desperation behind the offhand words. Jim had told him a little about his childhood, the 'spells' he'd had, which they now knew were sensory spikes. How the people in his hometown, including his father and younger brother, had interpreted the symptoms of his emerging Sentinel abilities as encroaching madness. He had control now, but that control was sometimes dependent on his Guide being nearby, a dependency the Sentinel couldn't quite bring himself to admit to. Besides, if what Tachopey had been implying was true, they were now pretty much fated to spend the rest of their lives together, in one way or another.

"Sure, sounds okay to me. I've never been to Washington," the younger man grinned, satisfied with the subtle relief in his Sentinel's features.

It was the very next day that they left the Yojave tribe for good, laden with gifts and final blessings, both of them grateful for all Tachopey had done for them.

They rode without speaking for the first half of the day, each lost in his own thoughts, the silence comfortable between them. Then gradually, Ellison began to indicate various points of interest in the countryside, being very familiar with the area. This helped pass the time pleasantly, as well as better preparing Blair to survive in this rugged country should he find himself alone one day. In this manner the trip passed quickly, and soon they were riding side-by-side past the slightly wobbly sign that designated Cascade's city limits.

"So this is where you grew up, huh? It's nice, even if it is raining," Blair grinned at his tall companion, as he tried to look every direction at once.

"Get used to it Chief. It rains a lot here. Great for the crops, a bit hard if you don't like dampness. My place is about a mile outside town, hopefully it's still standing." The Sentinel sat up rigidly in his saddle, an unyielding expression on his face as he spared not one look around the town he grew up in.

They rode through town without stopping; even so Blair was well aware of some of the frankly curious looks they drew. He could sense, more than hear, whispered conversations start up in their wake, and wondered what exactly it was that evoked this response in the townsfolk. But since Jim didn't look particularly inclined to conversation at the moment Blair kept his questions to himself for the time being, trusting that in time he'd get the answers he sought.

Once beyond Cascade's city limits, Jim picked up the pace to a gentle lope which quickly brought them to a gate hanging crookedly on it's braces under an archway, where the words 'Prospect Ranch' could faintly be discerned. Ellison's expression darkened at the obvious signs of neglect, and he kicked his horse into a brisk trot along the deeply rutted and overgrown drive. There past the first curve, hidden by the trees from the main road, was a ramshackle house, cloaked in an atmosphere of abandonment and decay.

"Whoa, I'd say nobody's been around here in a while," Blair observed softly, looking around with wide eyes.

"I guess it was too much to assume someone would take care of it this long. I'm surprised there's not squatters living here," Jim mumbled at last, before dismounting with a sigh.

"Looks like it just needs some work done," Blair agreed with as much enthusiasm as he could muster under the circumstances as he also dismounted and followed his friend up the front steps to the battered looking porch.

Ellison didn't acknowledge Sandburg's comment; instead he opened the front door and stepped into the dilapidated front room, looking around with a disgusted expression. The large room was stripped of nearly all the furnishings, what little remained was battered and torn, a large chair's stuffing spewed out of its ripped covers obscenely. A family of rodents had obviously taken up residence in the tattered remains of a footstool, and all the cupboard doors were missing. There was only one intact window in the entire downstairs area, and the wall between the main room and a small utility room had a hole torn out large enough for an adult to climb through. The fetid stench of decay permeated the building, competing with the heavy smell of dust and mold for dominance.

"Okay, so it'll take some major fixing up," Sandburg insisted on sounding cheerful despite the circumstances. "Could be worse, man. At least it's still standing."

"That's all it has in its favor. There's an open barn out back, would probably be more suitable for us to bed down there. This rain should let up later, we can start figuring out what we need to do, the supplies we'll need. I have an account at the bank, the money should still be there, we can get whatever materials we can't make ourselves..."Jim's voice trailed off a little as he continued to look around, getting a feel for what all needed to be done. He wasn't completely surprised to find the place in all but ruins; he'd been gone an awful long time this trip. He continued his half audible litany of plans, not really talking to Blair as much as musing out loud, as he continued up the stairs to check out the condition of the upper floor.

His progress was stopped by the sound of heavy footfalls on the porch outside and the appearance of a large, imposing figure just inside the front door, accompanied by a firm, deep voice.

"Hold it right there! I don't know who you are or what you think you're doing, but this is private property."

Jim turned toward the voice, stiffening defensively before relaxing as the voice registered in his memory. "Simon? Simon Banks? Is that you?"

"Jim? Well, hell, Ellison, why didn't you let anyone know you were coming home? Damn, we'd all but given up on you," the large black man exclaimed as he came forward to meet Jim at the foot of the stairs with a hearty handshake.

"Didn't know as anyone would care," Ellison said quietly, standing back and looking over the other man closely. "You're looking good, no bullet holes that I can see. And that star is polished to a high sheen as usual. At least now I know why squatters aren't living here."

"I owe you my life, Jim. Least I could do was make sure you had a home if you ever decided to come back. Your father tried to persuade the land office he had the right to sell it, but I convinced them differently," Banks reported softly, knowing Jim wouldn't like the news, but feeling he had a right to know. "It's good to see you. I've missed you, you stubborn son of a bitch."

"Gee, Simon, don't get all mushy on me," Ellison grinned.

"Hmph," the sheriff snorted in reply, then glanced over at where Sandburg stood, watching the two men silently. "Who's this? A stray you picked up?"

"Watch what you say, Simon," the Sentinel said with a distinct chill in his voice. "This is Blair Sandburg, my new partner. We're figuring to run Prospect Ranch as a working business again."

"So you'll be around, huh? Consider changing your mind about becoming a deputy?" the lawman asked smoothly, knowing his old friend would let the ill-advised comment slide - this time at least.

"Not at this time, no. But I'll keep it in mind as an option. Don't tell me you're still having problems keeping deputies?" he asked with a frown. Cascade, for reasons no one could determine, had turned out to be a haven for those who could not find a niche in other towns. The fact that the sheriff was a free-born negro, and the local doctor half Cherokee, were the norm for Cascade, not the exceptions.

"Oh, not really. I've got Henri Brown and Brian Rafe working full time, and Jerome Stone part time, as well as a half dozen or so I can call on if needed in an emergency. But I can always use another good man," Simon said with a shrug. "You can never have too many."

"Well, how about for the time being you add me to the half dozen you use in emergencies?" Ellison offered, holding out a hand to seal the deal.

Banks smiled easily and shook the proffered hand firmly, startled when Sandburg stepped up beside Jim and offered his own hand to shake.

"I'd like to offer my services as well," the smaller man said simply.

Only a fool would turn down such an offer from a man Jim Ellison called a partner, and Simon Banks was no fool. He shook the surprisingly strong hand with a welcoming smile.

"Thank you, Mr. Sandburg. I appreciate the offer."

"Please, Sheriff Banks, I'm Blair," the younger man insisted, looking at Simon expectantly.

"Very well. Thank you, Blair," he corrected himself, though he made no offer to the younger man to call him by his first name. Those sorts of privileges had to be earned, in Simon's opinion. "And now that I know this place is safely back in your hands, I'll be getting back into town. Once you two get settled in I'd like to hear what you've been up to that kept you away for almost five years, Jim. I'll even spring for a steak dinner at Sam's,"

"I'll take you up on that, you can be sure," Jim smiled, watching as Simon walked back outside. "Well, Chief, let's finish checking this place out, shall we?" he suggested, for the moment ignoring the obvious questions on his companion's face as he headed back up the stairs.

It wasn't exactly the homecoming he'd hoped for, but despite the deplorable condition of his house, he still felt inside like he'd finally come home...***

Saturday morning arrived bright and clear, waking Sandburg up at the crack of dawn, his sense of being near home making sleeping late an impossibility. Seeing his two companions were still asleep, he crawled out of his bed to stir the fire back to life and start the coffee. Soon the bitter rich fragrance of the brew roused the Sentinel from his own slumber, and he gratefully accepted the steaming cup his Guide handed him as soon as his head emerged from the covers.

"Thanks, Chief. I see you're anxious to get home, as usual," the older man grinned, knowing from long experience his friend's quirks.

"What makes you say that, Jim?" the younger man queried with an overly innocent expression belied by his grin. His companion all but choked on his coffee.

"Oh, I dunno, Sandburg. Maybe the fact that for once, and only once, during this whole trip YOU are up first? Could be considered a clue," Ellison teased, his own mood considerably lightened by the prospect of being home that day.

"You keep making comments like that and you can just forget any chances of me making breakfast," the smaller man countered, even as he rooted around in the cooking supplies.

A glance over at the third bedroll showed that Billy was also awake, and pulling on his boots in preparation for getting up and started on the morning chores. With both adults injured, the youngster had shouldered a considerable portion of the daily 'grunt work;' feeding and grooming the horses, fetching water and firewood, and the hundred and two other small duties that were a necessary part of each day on the road. According to Serena, the doctor who had treated Billy for his injuries after Jim and Blair rescued him, the youngster had been the only child of a traveling apothecary, and his obvious familiarity with what needed to be done in a camp seemed further proof of this.

The now familiar morning routine passed quickly, and it was still an hour before noon when the three riders entered the outskirts of Cascade. The day was one of those perfect ones that convinced residents that they had indeed chosen their home well. Not particularly hot, just comfortably warm, with air so pure one could almost taste it.

Downtown Cascade was busting with late morning activity, locals and visitors both finding reasons for outdoor activities to enjoy the perfect weather. The returning men were beginning to think they would make it all the way through town without having to stop when a commanding voice halted them in their tracks.

"Ellison! Sandburg! It's about time the two of you made it back here!"

The speaker was a dark skinned man with an unlit cigar clenched firmly in his teeth and a bright sheriff's star pinned prominently on his broad chest.

"Simon, it's good to see you too," Jim smiled, reaching down to shake the big man's hand, while Sandburg greeted him with a quick grin and wave from his position just beyond the Sentinel. "I'm hoping this greeting is not a prelude to telling us there're problems at home?" The half question was accompanied by a worried look.

"No, it's not. Well, not as of yesterday, anyway. Everything, and everyone, seemed just fine. And before you ask, no I haven't been called out there to restore the peace or any other official reason since you two took off," the lawman reported.

"That's a relief, since I wasn't sure leaving Tommy and Jason alone with each other would work out any better this time," Jim replied, smiling a bit ruefully at the memory of the disaster that occurred the last time they'd been called out of town.

"I think they're starting to work out their differences," Simon noted, with an encouraging look, knowing it had been a battle getting those two youngsters to learn to get along. "And speaking of differences, looks like you're making another addition?"

Blair grinned and indicated Billy who was watching with customary silence from one of the spare horses. "This is Billy, Simon. Billy, this is Sheriff Simon Banks. If you have a problem and can't get to me or Jim, Simon will help you," the younger man explained, as the big sheriff approached the youngster.

"Good to meet you Billy," he greeted the child, holding out a large hand, which was promptly shaken by the boy. "Nothing to say?" he asked with a slight frown.

"Simon, Billy's mute," Ellison said softly, his expression clearly telling his old friend to back off the subject.

"Ah, in that case I'll overlook the lack of response, Son. Good to meet you, welcome to Cascade," the sheriff said with a warm look that brought a slight, shy smile to the youngster's face.

"Well, I'm sure you're anxious to get home, so I won't keep you. When you get a chance I'd like to hear how the job went, I can tell from the bandages I see you had your usual luck," the dark man grinned.

"Tell you what, Simon. Why don't you come on by for dinner, and you can hear the story along with everyone else? I'm sure Hannah won't mind," Jim invited his friend, knowing it was really just a formality. With or without an invitation, he knew Simon would show up on their doorstep that evening, it was more or less a tradition now.

"I'll take you up on that. The usual time? Can I bring anything?" Simon queried with a slightly smug smile.

"Nah, just yourself, and Darrel if he's around. The kids are always glad to see him."

"His mom's got him staying home all this week, his schoolwork wasn't up to her standards. So it's just me. See you later, then," the sheriff said as he stepped back from Jim's horse to let them proceed. He followed their progress until he lost them in the swelling street traffic, then headed back to the jail to check over the week's reports from his deputies.

It was only a quarter hour later that they turned off the main road and passed under the decorative iron and wood arch that proclaimed 'Prospect Ranch' and headed down the well-maintained drive to the sprawling house nestled in amongst some massive, well-aged trees. No sooner had they come within sight of the house when a chorus of young voices could be heard crying out "They're home! They're home!"

Seemingly from every direction small bodies rushed out to greet the weary travelers as they dismounted, and a tall, big boned woman with long black hair hurried around from the back of the house.

"'Bout time you two got your bad selves back home," Hannah scolded, her words lacking any kind of force thanks to the wide smile that split her face. "Now what sort of mischief have you two gotten yourselves into?"

"Hannah, we behaved ourselves, really, we did," Jim insisted, holding up his hands as if to hold back the woman's advance, his own grin wide and happy. "And are we glad to see all of you," he declared, pulling the surrounding children into a hug and turning to each one with a personal greeting. A few feet away Blair was similarly occupied, the children shifting back and forth like bees amongst the flowers, the chatter and laughter making a glorious racket in the warm afternoon air.

Billy watched this silently from beside his erstwhile mount, holding onto the horse's reins nervously. There were so many children here! And they all talked so loudly, demanding attention from the two men who had made such a tremendous difference in the little boy's life in the space of only a few days. He was feeling lost and out of place, wondering if he could just silently sneak away before anyone noticed him. But Hannah seemed to almost read his mind and turned her attention to the new arrival, walking toward the youngster until the child backed away nervously, stopping her approach.

"It's okay, Little One, I'm Hannah, I help take care of Jim and Blair's kids. What's your name?" she queried gently, her sharp eyes already finding evidence that led her to her own startlingly accurate conclusions.

"Uh, Hannah, kids, listen up for a moment, okay? This is Billy, he'll be living here with us now," Blair announced, indicating the wide-eyed boy and giving him an encouraging smile. "Billy's about the same age all of you are, so he should fit in just fine, right? He's not talking right now, but I think in time that'll work itself out, so we don't want anyone giving him a hard time, okay? Now, I've been telling him about how nice all you are, and how much fun you all have together, so I'd like to introduce you politely. When I call your name say 'hi' to Billy. Jason?"

The boy who stepped forward at Sandburg's words was not much taller than Billy, but so solidly built he seemed a comparative giant. He had tousled, thick dark hair, and eyes so brown they looked black, the contrast making him appear paler than he actually was. There was a calm air of command about the boy, and even in this casual situation it was somehow obvious that the others deferred to a degree to Jason. The confident youth stepped forward and favored the newcomer with a welcoming smile and a casual "Nice to meet you, Billy."

"Zack?"

At that a dark skinned boy with laughing eyes and close cropped kinky black hair stepped forward with a good natured "Welcome, Billy."

"This is Tanya," Blair continued, indicating a girl with long black hair, who stepped forward boldly to greet the newcomer with a smile.

"And Aisha."

Like Zack and Tanya, Aisha was dark skinned, her thick hair plaited loosely down her back. She was the only girl not wearing a dress, but instead was dressed in boy's pants and a dark yellow blouse, and she gave Billy a frankly appraising look, as if sizing up an opponent. "Hi Billy."

"And this is Katherine," Sandburg indicated a blonde girl, taller than the others, who smiled sweetly and curtsied, much to Billy's bemusement. Such formality was unusual in the rough towns he'd spent much of the last few years in.

"This is Adam."

The oriental boy gave a shy grin, and a softly murmured "Hello." Billy was immediately drawn to this quiet youngster, seeming to instinctively recognize a kindred spirit.

"Trini." This girl's long, rail straight ebony hair hung nearly to her waist in a glossy veil, her gentle, heart shaped face warming up with a welcoming look, which morphed into a smile of almost heartbreaking sweetness as she raised one elegant hand in wordless greeting.

"Here we have Kimberly," came next, indicating a petite mite of a girl, dressed in a pink dress that seemed to accentuate her delicate beauty. Long chestnut hair was pulled back loosely, and huge brown doe-eyes looked up at Billy above a warm smile.

"I hope you'll be happy here," she said softly, running one hand down the boy's arm as a greeting.

Looking toward the back of the group of children, Blair indicated a tall boy with shoulder length dark hair, his dark skin clearly showing his partial Indian heritage. "This is Tommy."

Tommy just raised a hand and gave a noncommittal grunt by way of greeting, obviously less than thrilled to see a new addition to their group.

"And that one back there is Rocky," Sandburg concluded, as the Hispanic youth he'd indicated came forward.

"Hi. My whole name is Rockwell DeSantos, and I'm staying here until they find my family," he explained hastily, his expression openly cheerful. The children, intent on checking out the new kid, didn't catch the pained expressions on the adults' faces at Rocky's artless announcement.

"Zack, why don't you take Billy into the boy's wing and help him get settled, okay?" Jim suggested, handing Billy a small bundle of new clothing they'd gotten for him that morning and giving the overwhelmed looking boy an encouraging look.

"Sure Papa Jim, come on Billy," the smiling black youth said, ushering his charge toward the nearer section of the sprawling house. They went up four steps to a door at the end of the wing, and found themselves in a single long room, with individual 'cubicles' down each side, and a wide, open area down the middle, featuring a large potbellied stove in the center amidst scattered chairs and tables. The cubicle walls were a foot short of the ceiling, creating six small areas, each featuring a single bed in the center, with a window situated above it.

There was only one unoccupied cubicle, and the two boys went into it, with Billy looking around curiously as he set his small bundle down on the bed.

"Here, let me show you something," Zack offered, indicating the stand the bed rested on. "You can stash your stuff here." Five large drawers were built into the stand, providing each child with a place to store their belongings neatly. There was also a shelf above the bed, just below the window, where things could be displayed, and a small bedside table as well, with one narrow drawer and an open area below for storage.

"Papa Jim and Uncle Blair designed these rooms. Pretty neat, huh? Big rule, though. You can't go into anyone else's room or get into their stuff without their permission. And they can't get into yours, either. And no fighting. They've been real strict about that, especially since Tommy joined us and kept fighting with Jason. They've been in a ton of trouble, let me tell you. But you don't fight much, do you? I hope not, cause it's kind of upsetting when they get everyone all mad. Don't worry, you'll like it here, even if we do have a lot of chores, and school. School's okay, but I'd rather be fishing, or riding my horse, or doing lots of other things. Miss Appleby's nice enough, but history is boring. And math? I just don't get math at all." Billy trailed behind his guide, trying to keep up with the other boy's sudden shifts in subject. "So this is the boy's room, that's what they all call it. The girls have the other big room, like this only more girly. And this is the main house. You can come into these rooms anytime you want, cause you live here now like us. But, Papa Jim and Uncle Blair have rooms upstairs, and those are off limits. So is Hannah's room, which is over there, behind that door. You can't go in there unless she says so," Zack rambled on happily, pointing out things as he spoke of them, turning constantly to make sure Billy was still with him and listening.

"And we all eat our meals in here, and there's the kitchen. If you're hungry just ask Hannah for something and she'll usually let you have it. She just wants to know what food is being eaten so we don't run out, at least that's what she told me when I asked her why we always have to ask for things. She's a real good cook, and on your birthday she'll cook anything you ask for. It's my birthday in a few weeks, and I want to have her fried chicken. She said I could, too. Oh, and this room is where they put you if you're sick, so you won't infect anyone and they can take care of you easier. I've never had to be in this room myself, but Kimberly almost DIED here last winter. But Uncle Blair knows a lot of medicine stuff, and made her well again," he hastened to assure his slightly dazed audience of one. "We should head back out to the others, 'cause it's time for them to give us presents." He leaned toward the smaller boy and lowered his voice confidentially. "They 'most always bring us something after they go on one of their jobs, though they keep telling us we're too old for that. Come on," he encouraged Billy, grabbing his hand and hurrying him back outside, even while quickly pointing out the vegetable garden and chicken coop and woodshed, the last evoking a warning that he didn't want to ever be sent there by one of the adults, since that was where the 'lickins' took place.

They rejoined the other children in the barn just as Blair and Jim finished unloading the packhorse, having carefully piled the assorted bundles near the door under the watchful eye of the children. Settling the horses into their stalls, the two men took their time, enjoying the palpable air of anticipation from the youngsters. The suppressed excitement only increased with the arrival of Zack and Billy to rejoin the group, and finally with a grin he couldn't suppress Jim turned to their young charges.

"So, you guys want to help us unpack?" he asked, the question by now a ritual.

"Yay!" chimed out assorted voices as most of the youngsters fell to untying the largest bundle. Soon it was opened to reveal a number of individually wrapped packages inside, each sporting a child's name. It was the work of only a few moments to disburse them to their rightful owners, while the two men watched with satisfied smiles.

"Here you go, Billy," Zack grinned, handing over a small package with the boy's name neatly printed on it, so anxious to get to his own present he didn't notice the look of almost comical surprise on the other youth's face.

Soon the sound of tearing paper was interspersed with gasps and other sounds of pleasure as the children tore through the wrapping and found the treasures contained in each. The two men always made an effort to find gifts that were special to each individual child, not falling into the easy trap of buying in bulk. Consequently Adam got a puzzle that suited his analytical nature as Tanya received a harmonica, which suited her musical interests. Trini was pleased with an small book exploring the teachings of several philosophers, just as Jason was thrilled with baseball, which he'd heard was a new craze back East. None of the gifts were especially expensive or elaborate, but each was another small treasure to a group of children who had each known much loss in their short lives.

"What'd you get, Billy?" Zack queried, apparently still feeling responsible for the other boy.

Wordlessly the blond held out a leather pouch containing a dozen glass marbles, in a variety of colors.

"Hey, that's great! You know how to play marbles?" At Billy's negative shake of his head the exuberant youngster continued. "No problem, we can teach you. It's a lot of fun, and having marbles is better than having money if you play it right," he confided, dropping his voice low so the adults couldn't hear; or so he thought at least.

"Zackary," Jim's voice cut across the hubbub to get Zack's attention. "You wouldn't be giving Billy any bad ideas, now would you?" he asked sternly.

"No, Sir." The youngster's wide brown eyes looked over at the big man with thinly veiled awe and surprise. How in the world could Jim have heard him?

"Good. Now, why don't you guys give us a hand getting all this into the house?" Ellison suggested, already hefting some of the larger bundles. Besides the gifts, there was an assortment of material for new clothes, as well as household goods and supplies, medical supplies for both humans and stock, and assorted other odds and ends.

With twenty-two small but willing hands helping out, the packages were quickly put away and the two returning travellers had a chance to catch up with activities and events that had occurred since they had left over a week before.

"And Macy had her baby, a perfect little filly," Aisha reported in her turn, grinning up at Jim and Blair, her ebony eyes dancing with joy. "Wait until you see her!" she concluded.

"And I suppose you've been driving Reverend Taggart mad visiting five times a day?" Ellison asked, only half kidding.

"He said I could come see her whenever I wanted to," the little girl protested, looking up with an aggrieved expression.

"I was just kidding," the big man grinned, putting a comforting arm around her. "I know how much you love the animals."

"Besides, we helped Reverend Taggart last week, when his chickens all got loose," Tanya chipped in with a laugh. "It took us a long time to catch them all, they ran all around the place, and Zack even fell in the pigpen chasing one."

"He stunk and Emma made him undress in the barn and wash up before he could even come in the house," Kimberly added, her brown eyes dancing with laughter.

Blair chuckled in amusement as the youngsters all but tripped over each other trying to tell of their adventures. Jim allowed this to go on for a time, then clapped his hands to get the kids' attention.

"We invited Sheriff Banks to join us for dinner, so you need to get your chores finished early today. Tommy, you're in charge of showing Billy the ropes, he'll work with you until he's used to how we do things. You TEACH him, don't just have him do your work for you. Billy, you have any questions just ask. When you're finished, get yourselves washed up and presentable," he finished, smiling when the youngsters all but ran to obey him. The first couple of days back after a few days absence always saw the children on their absolute best behavior.

"I never like leaving them, but coming home again is a totally different matter," Blair murmured to his friend as they strolled together back toward the house.

"I know what you mean," Jim agreed, pausing to look back toward the barn and garden areas where small figures scurried about busily.

"Hard to remember now how it was in the beginning, isn't it?" Blair queried, his own gaze captured by the bustle of activity.

"Yeah. Guess it really was meant to be this way after all," Ellison said softly, his thoughts wandering back almost five years to the fateful trip that started it all.

***Making the house livable was not as difficult as it had first appeared, as long as they didn't mind putting up with a degree of unsightly, makeshift repairs that were functional if not attractive. They planned to slowly replace and repair those areas as time and finances permitted, between efforts to build up a herd of cattle and look into domesticating wild horses that roamed some areas in large herds. Uncertain which venture would be the most profitable, they decided to try both at first, giving them at least a year or two of effort before deciding on a permanent course of action.
 

Two days after their arrival back in Cascade, William and Stephen Ellison both came to the Ranch to greet their long absent son\brother. Blair had retired early to his room, but despite that he heard the Ellisons' voices raised angrily long into the night, though he didn't hear the two men finally leave. The next morning Jim refused to comment, saying only that they would not be bothering them anymore; which turned out to be true enough - it was three years before Stephen spoke to his older brother again, and four years before William spoke to his eldest son.

Attempts to arrange the purchase of a 'starter' herd of cattle locally met with no success, so Jim and Blair had no choice but to go to California to buy the animals. Once in the Lake Tahoe area, Jim made some quiet inquiries, soon locating another old acquaintance of his, a man about his age whose family ran a prosperous ranch in the mountains near a crystal clear lake.

"Jim Ellison, you old dog! I can't believe it took you six damned years to take me up on my offer to visit!" The boisterous greeting came from a dark-haired man who came to the door, grinning at the Sentinel with obvious delight.

"Adam, it's good to see you! And maybe if you didn't hide yourself away in the mountains folks would come by more often," Jim grinned, shaking the proffered hand enthusiastically. "This is my friend and business partner, Blair Sandburg. Blair, this is Adam Cartwright. Do NOT engage in a 'friendly' game of poker with him, no matter how nicely he asks."

"Now, Jim, what kind of comment is that to make? You're not still sore about that $50 are you?" Cartwright's grin got impossibly wider.

"It was $76.50, and not at all," Ellison countered. "And I'm sure I can arrange to get it back while we're here."

"More likely I can arrange to make it a nice, even $100," Adam concluded, winking at Blair conspiratorially. "Though I doubt that's why you're here. What can I do for you, Jim?" The teasing light was gone, replaced by genuine concern.

"It's not like that, Adam," Jim reassured him, seeing the look on his friend's face. "I've decided to settle down in Cascade, and run the ranch like an actual business, and find myself in need of some stock. I was hoping you would have some for sale, or if not, knew where we could find some."

"Not a problem. We don't usually sell cattle this time of year, but we can make an exception if you're not looking for too many?"

"Say fifty head or so? Enough to get started. And a good bull, if possible. It's just me and Blair to herd them, so that should be enough to get Prospect Ranch started. What do you think?" Ellison replied.

"I think we can probably do business," Adam grinned, shaking Jim's hand with a smile. "Let me go speak to Pa, then I'll show you two around."

The young man left Jim and Blair on the wide porch, where they watched the bustling activity around the nearby barn and corrals. The sound of a throat being cleared behind them got their attention a few minutes later.

"Jim, Blair, this is my father, Ben Cartwright. Pa, this is Jim Ellison, the fella I met in Seattle a few years ago, I told you about. And his friend, Blair Sandburg." Adam's father looked over the two newcomers with sharp eyes, his piercing gaze missing nothing.

"I've looked forward to meeting you," the elder man said to Jim, gripping his hand firmly. "I owe you a debt of gratitude for what you did for my son."

"There is no debt involved," Ellison replied formally, his expression solemn. "He would have done the same for me."

"That's true, but if I recall the facts correctly, you had no way of knowing that at the time. And regardless, Adam might have been killed if not for your actions." Ben paused, considering the tall man in front of him before nodding slightly. "I thank you."

Ellison remembered Adam's comments about his father, the man's stubbornness, and decided there was really only one reply that would be accepted. "You're welcome," he said with equal dignity, his respect for this man almost instinctive. He doubted few ever won a battle of wills against Ben Cartwright.

"Now that that's settled, Adam tells me you're looking for some cattle to start a herd. That'll pose no problem at all. In fact, I've already taken the liberty of sending a couple of men to round up fifty head for you to look over tomorrow. The cattle have already been bred, so next spring your herd will double automatically," the rancher grinned, looking pleased with himself. "You'll do us the honor of staying here tonight?" he offered, gesturing to the large house.

"Jim, make it easy on yourself, just say yes," Adam smirked; his eyes smiling. "Takes less time that way. We've got plenty of room, and Hop Sing is already expecting extras for dinner. Come on, bring your things inside and take a look around."

Before they could even begin to protest, provided they'd actually wanted to, the two citizens of Cascade found themselves ensconced in a spacious bedroom with two large beds, a basin of warm water standing by so they could freshen up a little.

"How'd you save Adam's life?" Blair asked quietly when they were alone.

"It wasn't that big a deal," the Sentinel demurred, waving his hand dismissively. "He made the mistake of winning a little too much playing poker, while also drinking too much. A couple of sore losers thought to get their money back. I helped them change their minds," he shrugged.

Blair snorted in amusement. "Were either of them conscious when they made this 'decision'?"

"One was," Jim grinned back, bringing a full laugh from his companion. "Anyway, once he sobered up, Adam and I ended up becoming friends. He told me all about this wonderful ranch he grew up on; I'm glad to find out it really exists."

"Yeah. Well, let's go see this amazing place, huh?" the smaller man suggested, already heading toward the door. "Maybe give us some ideas how to build up Prospect Ranch."

Adam met them at the foot of the stairs with two other young men who bore virtually no resemblance to him.

"Jim, Blair, this here's my younger brother, Hoss," he said, indicating a tall, stocky man with a round face and disarmingly open grin. His handshake was enthusiastic and accompanied by his pleasant greeting.

"It's good to meet you fellas!"

"And this is our youngest brother, Little Joe," Adam finished. Joe smiled at the two men, but his expression was a bit more reserved than his older brother's. Only slightly taller than Blair, the youngest Cartwright was a good looking man, with thick curly hair and striking eyes.

The next few hours were spent looking over the thriving ranch, with both Jim and Blair asking dozens of questions of the brothers. Since the weather and conditions at the Ponderosa were much like those in Cascade, they got a lot of excellent advice on preparing for the rainy season. By the time they left the next afternoon they had a firm plan for the coming year, fifty-three head of pregnant cattle, two additional saddle horses, and a week's worth of food courtesy of Hop Sing, who'd hit it off immediately with Blair.

They'd allowed themselves plenty of time for the trip back, which was a good thing since the cattle's condition did not allow for a quick pace. Two days away from the Ponderosa, in an open desert area of Nevada, Jim stopped suddenly, his gaze turned toward the south.

"What is it, Jim? What do you hear?" Blair asked, riding up alongside his Sentinel and placing a hand on the broad back, grounding him.

"Not hear. Smell. Smoke. Old, but too much for just a camp fire."

"Try following the smell with your vision, like Tachopey taught us. Just relax and let it go, I'll keep you from going too far. Just take some nice, deep breaths..." Blair's voice trailed away as Jim followed his instructions, the big body stiff and still.

"It's no good," Jim sighed, coming back to himself abruptly. "There are too many hills and hollows. Let's head over that way, maybe if we get closer I can figure it out without having to go too far out of our way," Ellison suggested.

"Sure," Sandburg agreed, moving into position to turn the herd. Already they were becoming adept at maneuvering the cattle while keeping them in a close group. An hour later Jim called another halt, his expression tight with emotion.

"It's stronger, and it's...it's not a good smell. I've smelled that before, during the war. When buildings were burned..." he began, then hesitated, wondering if this was really something his younger friend needed to know. But Blair was watching him with a curious expression, silently urging him to continue.

"When buildings were burned and the people were still...inside. Look, I'll go check it out, you stay with the cattle," the Sentinel decided at last.

"I don't think so, Jim. We'll both go. You heard them, the herd will be okay for a little while without us. And I don't want you zoning on me." The younger man looked a little apprehensive but determined.

"Blair, this could very well be an Indian attack. If so...it could be very ugly," Ellison tried to dissuade him.

"We're wasting time," Blair countered, already moving in the direction Jim had been looking.

Giving a sigh of defeat, even though he was secretly glad to have Blair along, he spurred his horse on ahead of his impetuous Guide. He crested a small rise, then stopped, barely hearing Sandburg's gasp of dismay behind him.

"Oh, my God."

Below them were the remains of a wagon train, all but three reduced to blackened piles of debris, still in the rough circle they'd formed, probably in defense against the attack. Even from this distance they could see the sprawled bodies scattered about, looking like life-size dolls abandoned in mid play by a giant child. The vultures circling the area, startled off by Jim and Blair's approach, shattered that illusion.

"Any signs of life?" Blair queried in a soft voice, his face already showing a faint green tinge as his breakfast stirred restlessly.

"I haven't seen any sign of movement. Stop a moment and let me try hearing."

The bigger man sat straight in his saddle, his handsome face tight with concentration as he stretched out his hearing, going past the faint whisper of the nearly non-existent breeze and the gritty sound of small creatures darting amongst the scattered sagebrush. Moving his focus beyond the ruined wagons he sought signs of survivors or remaining attackers, not actually expecting to find either since it had obviously been a couple of days since the attack.

So the drumming of multiple heartbeats startled the Sentinel, who immediately turned his horse to skirt the attack site and go over the slight rise beyond it.

"What is it, Jim? What do you hear?" Blair spoke in a whisper in deference to his Sentinel's increased hearing.

"There are some people beyond this rise. The heartbeats are muted, like they're inside a building or underground, four or five of them, I think. Dismount here and we'll go the rest of the way on foot. You stay behind me, Chief, and do exactly what I tell you to," Ellison instructed the younger man with a stern look.

"Don't I always?" Sandburg asked, then recoiled at the look Jim gave him. "Okay, okay, never mind. Dumb question."

"Quiet."

Ellison paused, studying the small canyon before them. The near side was a steep down-slope leading to a narrow floor before ending in a vertical rock cliff. Even Blair could pick out several openings that were most likely natural caves along the lower area of the cliff.

Jim listened intently, then moved forward with a sure step, stopping by a surprisingly small opening. He stood still, his posture one of intense concentration, then he knelt down by the opening.

"Come on out, it's safe now," he called out in a gentle voice.

Blair looked questioningly at him, having heard the faint sounds of voices but not having been able to distinguish what had been said.

"Come on, we have food and water. We'll take care of you," Jim continued to coax the occupants out, eventually rewarded by the appearance of a small Negro boy, who gazed up at Jim fearfully.

"Bad men gone?" he asked in a trembling voice.

"Yes. They're gone. My name is Jim Ellison, this is my friend, Blair Sandburg. We won't hurt you. We want to help. Will you let us help you?"

Despite his obvious fear the small boy studied Jim and Blair carefully, until another voice, higher and softer than his, came from the cave.

"Zack? Is it okay? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Trini, you can come out. They're okay, I think. Maybe they can help Tanya and Adam," the youngster replied, looking toward the opening and biting his lip in concern.

Moments later a small Asian girl crawled out, helping an equally young black girl out with her. Another Negro girl followed with an injured Asian boy, then the group of children huddled together looking at the two men with haunted eyes. They were filthy and thin, none of them more than five or six years old, though they gave the impression of having seen things adults would hardly be able to cope with.

"Zack? Why don't you tell me your friends' names, and maybe Blair here can look them over, make them feel a little better." Jim took care not to boss the youngsters around, instinctively knowing they needed to feel a little 'in charge' for a while longer until the two men had earned their trust.

"I'm Zackary Taylor," the boy said, obviously well coached, as he gave his full name. "My family is free. Aisha is my cousin. That's Trini and Adam," he added, indicating the two Asian youngsters. "Adam cut his leg when we hid from the bad men and Tanya was getting sick before the...before the bad men came," he added hesitantly.

"We're free, too," Tanya spoke up proudly, even though she was shivering with fever. "My daddy said so."

"Indeed you are," Sandburg agreed, looking at his companion worriedly. "Jim, would you mind getting the horses, I have some supplies I need in my saddlebags."

The older man nodded and strode back to where they'd stashed their mounts. Blair was distracted by a light tugging sensation on his right leg, and looked down into the fever-bright eyes of the boy introduced as Adam. "Mister? I'm hungry, do you have any food?" came the timid request, the child's pinched face expressing both apprehension and hope.

Sandburg's heart constricted painfully as he knelt down by the small boy and his friends. "We have plenty of food, Adam. And we'll make a good dinner for all of you in just a little while, okay? I'm going to take a look at your leg now, so just lay still for a bit. Wow, this is a good bandaging job," the young man continued, carefully unwrapping the injury.

He glanced around and caught a gleam of pride in Aisha's dark eyes, correctly interpreting it to mean the little girl had been the one who had bandaged the leg. Blair was struck by the magnitude of what these children had done; they'd managed to survive on their own, even though one was ill and another injured, and even though they must have known their families were lying dead just over the low hill. They hadn't panicked and tried to run, nor abandoned those who couldn't take care of themselves, nor given up and let themselves die. They'd tended the wounded, found water, and waited in safety for rescue. Amazing for children so young.

He was roused from his thoughts by Jim's return. As the Sentinel approached the cave Blair rose to meet him, the two adults conferring in hushed voices.

"We need to set up camp soon," Blair said with a glance back at the children. "Adam's injury needs to be thoroughly cleaned, which I can guarantee he won't much like. Tanya needs some medicine, as does Adam, for that matter, which unfortunately I don't have with me, so we also need to stop at the nearest town. They all need a few good meals, and a bath would most likely be a good idea, too. And, of course, there's the whole situation with their parents and the others on the wagons. We need to report that to someone, don't we?"

"Yeah," Jim sighed, looking around critically. "This isn't the perfect location, but it will do for camp. Plus the cattle will be contained here in the canyon. Go ahead and set up camp here, and take care of the kids. I'll move the cattle in, and get a closer look at what's left of the wagons. We should at least bury those folks, I guess. See what the kids know about the attack, and once they're settled down you can give me a hand," Ellison's voice trailed off as he continued to contemplate all the things that needed to be done, his gaze again falling on the small cluster of children huddled together and watching the men with wary eyes.

"Something tells me we're going to be pretty busy with this group," the older man concluded.

***

"Jim? Jim!" Sandburg's voice cut through the older man's thoughts, bringing his attention to his companion. "What were you zoning on?"

"I wasn't zoning, Sandburg, I was just thinking. And don't even THINK of saying it," he warned the younger man, holding up a cautioning finger and catching Blair in mid word.

"Who? Me? I'm sure I don't know what you are talking about," Blair smirked, playing along with the familiar game, even though neither man's heart was really in it. Jim was standing in a hip deep trench, stripped to the waist, his muscular chest gleaming with sweat from his exertions. He had spent the last couple of hours laboring on the common grave, while Blair patiently gathered stones to cover it when they finished. The worst was still to come, they knew, when they would collect all the desecrated bodies and lay them to rest together.

According to what the children had told Blair, a story backed up by the evidence Jim saw around the wagons, the attackers had not been Indians, as they had first suspected, but white men. Driven by greed, and possibly racial hatred, they'd waited until the wagons were far from any town before launching their attack just at sunset.

Caught unprepared, with nearly all of them sitting around the large campfire, relaxing after dinner, the attack was fast, furious, and very effective. With cruel efficiency they killed every last man, woman, and child there, looting the wagons for valuables before setting fire to them. Less than a half hour after firing the first shot the men rode off laden with supplies and horses, leaving behind thirty-eight bodies for the predators to snack on under the unforgiving desert sky.

The five children Jim and Blair found had wandered off after dinner, playing their favorite game of hide and seek. It was Aisha who had found the small cave to hide in, not realizing she wouldn't be able to hear the others unless they were right by the entrance. A very competitive child, she was determined to win the game, so she stayed hidden, unaware of the other four youngsters' frantic attempts to find her, until it was nearly dark outside.

Emerging at last she was startled to hear gunfire, and hurried in the direction of the camp, nearly stumbling over the other four who were hidden amongst the brush near the top of the rise, watching the flurry of activity around the burning wagons.

"Mama! Papa!" she cried out, making as if to rush forward, only to be grabbed in a bear hug by her cousin Zack.

"No, Isha," he said to the frantically struggling little girl, using his pet nickname for her. "'Member what we were told to do? We have to hide until they tell us it's safe."

"Nooo. Mama," she sobbed, but she stopped her struggles nonetheless. All the children had been told repeatedly, sternly, that they were to hide, if at all possible, if the wagon train was attacked. There had been one other time when they believed they were under attack, and the parents had managed to get all the children to a hiding spot before things got dangerous. Even though that first time had been a false alarm, three of the older children had been publicly thrashed for leaving the hiding place prematurely. It was a lesson ALL the children remembered.

It was mid morning the next day before the children dared to leave their hiding places amongst the bushes and creep back to the now smoldering wagons. Their cries of terror and grief drew no response, and it was only shortly thereafter that they took refuge in the cave Aisha had discovered. Other than Zack and Trini making a few trips to the nearby waterhole to fill their one canteen, they had not left the cave in two days.

***

"...And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. Amen." Jim's powerful voice was echoed by the five smaller ones; the children standing in a solemn line beside the large grave that marked the final resting place for their families. Ellison had managed to salvage enough timber to fashion a large cross, and Blair had spent several hours painstakingly carving the family names on it. The simple service, Christian in nature, may not have been completely appropriate for some of the deceased, but none of the five survivors were likely to complain. And it was the best the two men could offer in the way of homage to the men, women, and children who had lost their lives for the unpardonable sin of being born different.

It was Trini, the most articulate of the children, who had explained that the families in this particular wagon train were freed slaves and former railroad workers determined to build new lives in the more tolerant West. They had been headed ultimately toward San Francisco, where they planned to purchase small plots of land abutting each other, which they could work together. None of the children knew of any surviving family that could take them in now, though both adults realized that given the ages of the kids there was a possibility there might be family they simply hadn't met or didn't remember.

Ellison had used parts from the partially unburned wagons to fashion one functioning wagon, which could be pulled by the spare horses. There was nothing left of any value to be salvaged, so after the simple funeral, the two men loaded their five charges into the wagon, and with Blair at the reins, set out for the nearest settlement. Jim stayed with the herd while Sandburg took the kids into town to see the doctor, and to report the attack. It was nearly four hours before he returned to find a worried Sentinel waiting for him.

"I was about to ride into town myself to find you," he hissed at Blair as the three healthy youngsters climbed off the wagon. "Was something wrong?"

"The doctor was wrong, that's what," Blair whispered back, casting a worried glance at Adam and Tanya who were both obviously asleep. "He seemed to think these patients were beneath him. I convinced him otherwise."

"Do I need to reinforce your lesson, Chief?" Jim asked softly, his own gaze taking in the two young innocents sleeping deeply despite the long ride in the admittedly rickety wagon.

"It's fine now, Jim, let it go. I got the medicines I need, and reported the attack. The sheriff seems concerned enough, he'll at least send out notices about it. Nothing much else he can do at this point, really. Look, it's been a kinda rough day for these two, how about we set up camp nearby and let them rest? Oh, and I found out the nearest orphanage is about two days ride. The local one is full...over full, actually. It's been a bad couple of years," Blair sighed.

"Okay, there's a small stream just over that ridge, we can set up camp near there," the older man replied, his mind obviously elsewhere. Blair waited for Jim to tell him what was on his mind, but the Sentinel just mounted up and began to move the herd out as his Guide collected the kids and set out in his wake.

***

Two days later they found themselves leaving the office of the Saint Christopher's Little Traveler's Home, frustrated and discouraged. Despite the grand name, it was a small orphanage, understaffed and over crowded, located on the outskirts of a mining town that had sprung up almost overnight. The man in charge, one Deke Smithers, had been sympathetic, but firm in his refusal to take on any additional children.

"Gentlemen, look around you. There's simply no more room here. I have more children than I should already. If I take in five more, who is going to give up part of their dinner so the new kids can eat? Who's going to have to give up their bed? Their clothes? No, I have to give first consideration to the youngsters I already have. We have too little of everything already, I simply can't stretch it any further. I wish I could help you, I really do, but I can't. Try some of the larger towns, you may have more luck there," the man concluded, his eyes showing his sincere regret.

"We understand," Jim replied with a sigh as he rose to his feet. "Thanks for your time."

"Jim, what are we going to do? We can't go traipsing into large towns with the herd, and besides if I recall the route you chose, we won't actually get that near any big towns," Blair queried, plopping his hat back on his head as they walked back to their horses.

"Might be best to take the kids back to Cascade, get the cattle settled, and have the local minister help us find an orphanage that can take the kids," the Sentinel suggested even as he whistled to get the children's attention and signaled them toward their waiting wagon.

"Sounds fine to me, I'm getting kind of attached to them," Blair grinned, walking over to tie his saddle horse to the wagon as the children swarmed into it. Adam was still limping, but otherwise recovering quickly, and Tanya was nearly over her illness as well.

Jim just sighed softly and mounted his horse, his thoughts troubled as he get the cattle moving once again.

***

The Sentinel stirred from his rest that night, instantly on the alert, wondering what it was that had set off his internal alarms. All seemed quiet enough, his Guide slept peacefully beside him, the children were asleep on the far side of the fire.

Or were they?

He got up with the silent grace of his spirit animal and moved over to check the small forms, finding four of them were as asleep as he'd thought. But Aisha was awake, tears running down dusky cheeks as she pulled in another softly gasping breath.

"Oh, come on, Sweetie," the big man said gently, picking the little girl up with infinite care and moving back to sit near the fire with the small figure held close on his lap. "Shhh, shhhh...it's okay. It'll all be okay," he tried to soothe her.

Blair had talked to Jim about the fact that all the children would be grieving for quite some time, now that the first trauma and shock had begun to fade. Their youth was on their side, but what had happened had been horrendous, it was only natural that they would have a lot of healing to do. So far there had been the occasional bout of tears, and even rarer bout of temper, all of which had been handled with deft compassion by Blair. If the children had been crying at night, Jim hadn't been aware of it until this time. He couldn't just let the girl cry alone, he could not have lain there and listened to the sounds of a child's grief without offering whatever small comfort he could.

"I want my Mama," Aisha gasped out raggedly, her grief increasing though the sobs were still soft. "I want to go home."

"I know, I know, Baby. I wish I could give that to you, I really do," Jim crooned back in a gentle whisper, rocking the youngster as he spoke.

The little girl continued to cry softly for a time, small arms wrapped securely around one muscular bicep, her face hidden against a broad shoulder. Finally sniffling a bit, she drew back and fixed the Sentinel with huge brown eyes, still swimming in unshed tears. "Can you and Mr. Blair keep us?" she asked with painfully innocent trust.

Jim found himself stumbling for words, his unease apparent enough even to his young companion, who sighed sadly in defeat and whispered more to herself than to Jim: "Doesn't anyone want us?"

Ellison gathered her closer and gently ran his big hand down her long, curly hair, as he tried to reassure her. "Of course you're wanted, Aisha. We're going to find a place for you all, I swear. A place where you can be happy. I promise." It was a sacred vow to the Sentinel; that he would do right by these children.

Aisha made no reply to his words, only held on until sleep finally loosened her grip. Feeling the small body relax at last, Jim carefully carried her back to her bed and settled her under the blankets, resting his hand again on the curl covered head in silent benediction. Satisfied that the girl was truly asleep again, and the rest of the children continued their slumber undisturbed, he went back to his own bedroll. But instead of lying down to sleep, he sat straight and tall, staring into the fire with unseeing eyes as he pondered the children's situation and considered the possible options.

***

The rest of the trip home was mercifully uneventful, and by the time they'd gotten the cattle safely in the pasture, and arranged Blair's bedroom as a temporary bedroom for the children, it was too late to do much of anything except eat a quick dinner before the youngsters started drooping toward sleep.

Walking downstairs from his last check on the now sleeping kids, Blair found his Sentinel pacing the perimeter of the living room restlessly, stopping occasionally to look around as if visualizing something.

"What're you doing, Jim?" the younger man asked curiously as Ellison paused once again.

"I was just thinking, Chief. What if we knocked out the back wall of this closet, and expanded it outward to make a large room? And we could put a door in this wall here, and build on a large room on this side as well," Jim explained, indicating places on opposite sides of the spacious room. "We could even partition it off in the large rooms, so each kid has his own 'room' of his own, you know? And could hire a woman to help out, so it would be more respectable like since we have girls and boys together. What do you think?"

"Jim, do you mean...you think we should...keep them? Raise them here?" Blair asked, a desperate hope dawning on his expressive face.

"Yeah, why not? It feels RIGHT, you know? Ever since we picked them up, it just feels right. Like what I'm...we're...supposed to do. I don't know, maybe I've just seen too much death in the last few years, but I like the idea of providing a LIFE for someone, if that makes sense," the older man concluded, still trying to find the right words.

"Oh, yeah, Jim it makes sense. And believe me, I'm behind you 100%. I was really dreading the idea of giving these guys up," Sandburg all but bounced in his enthusiasm. "In the meantime we can leave them in my old room for now. I can use this small one down here. We need to take them to town tomorrow, get more clothes, supplies. And I should look at planting a bigger vegetable garden, maybe we should get some chickens, for eggs and meat, you know? And..." he paused, seeing the grin on his friend's face. "What?"

"Just wondering when you were planning to start breathing again, Junior. It's been a long trip, let's call it a day for now, and tomorrow we can start in on all the work that we need to do," Ellison advised his partner, even as Blair pulled out a precious piece of paper and began a list of things they would need. Sighing in fond exasperation the Sentinel watched his Guide distractedly wander toward his temporary bedroom, still muttering under his breath.

"Good night, Chief," he called out softly, then headed up the stairs to his own room, his mind refusing to heed his orders to cease and desist, insisting instead on imagining a future filled with life and growth, instead of death and despair as the last few years had been***

Simon Banks showed up for dinner that evening with a dozen licorice sticks, which he handed out to the children after dinner, giving the extra one to the biggest kid of all.

"Hannah, if you ever decide to leave this madhouse, I could use a woman like you myself. Darryl complains about my cooking when he stays with me, claims I'm trying to poison him," Simon declared grandly to Hannah as he sat back and patted his stomach in satisfaction.

"Tempting as that offer is, Simon, I think I'll stay here. I've got a few children to raise," she noted, with a pointed look at Jim, who was savoring his licorice stick with the same devotion Banks showed to his finest cigars.

Blair chortled at Hannah's comment, but Jim simply raised a questioning eyebrow at the woman who showed not one whit of remorse about the implication of her comment. The children scurried around cleaning up the dinner dishes, and straightening up in general, before retiring to their rooms for some quiet play time before bed. Left alone, safe from small ears, Simon turned to Jim as the four adults settled in the far side of the living room.

"So, what's the story you couldn't tell in front of the youngsters?" he asked pointedly.

Speaking softly while keeping an ear out for the kids, Jim filled Hannah and Simon in on the details they'd omitted around the children, including Serena's information about Billy's father and the degree of abuse the boy had suffered.

"Thank the good Lord you heard him," Hannah said with quiet fervor, rocking slowly and knitting as she spoke. She was a woman who liked to keep busy.

"Yeah," Blair agreed softly, looking at Jim with an undecipherable look.

"Any news around here we should know about, Simon?" Ellison asked, ready to change the subject.

"Well, your neighbors, the Kaplans, have left," the sheriff replied, settling back comfortably in his chair and savoring his after dinner glass of brandy.

"Victor and Edith moved? Since when? I thought they were happy here, Edith even got some starter plants for an herb garden from me," Blair exclaimed in surprise. It came as no surprise to anyone that Blair would know the couple by their first name, he made friends with literally everyone, it seemed.

"It was that blasted Gaylord Zedd that did it," Hannah all but growled, stabbing her knitting needle in Simon's direction to make her point.

"I asked them, and they said Zedd wasn't behind it. They just felt it was 'time to move on,'" Banks countered.

"'Time to move on,'" the blunt woman repeated angrily. "Time to move on after they had several cattle die from eating poisonous plants, had their fences cut time and again, had cattle get caught in the barbed wire and cut to ribbons. And my, my, what about those crops that got trampled when their cattle somehow got loose in the garden? Yeah, it was time to move on, alright," Hanna scoffed, frowning in consternation.

"Mr. Kaplan did not officially report any of that," the sheriff insisted wearily. "I asked him several times, gave him every chance. Legally there was nothing I could do. They didn't have any proof, and they weren't willing to sign a complaint. My hands are legally tied."

"Why would Gaylord Zedd want the small holding the Kaplans had?" Blair wondered, his face thoughtful. The Kaplan's farm had been only half the size of Prospect Ranch.

There was a pause as the four adults considered the situation, realization gradually dawning on Simon's face. "He's buying up everyone, I can't think of any more small holdings on this side of Cascade, excepting Prospect Ranch," he announced.

"The Martins?" Blair asked with a puzzled frown.

"They left a month ago."

"Old Cody McClurey?" Jim queried.

"Geez, Jim, he died four months ago. No heirs, Zedd got it for a song."

"Should we be worried?" Hannah wanted to know, fixing Simon with an unwavering gaze.

"Legally, I'd have to say, no. There's no been crime committed-officially. But as your friend? Yes, you may very well have reason to worry. I'll spread the word to my deputies, have them mosey on out this way more often. You see anything amiss, don't just deal with it, Jim, but get me here, too. I mean it, Ellison," the big sheriff said sternly, his glare pinning the younger man to his seat. "You take the law in your own hands, and these kids of yours will be the ones who suffer when I end up arresting you."

"You have my word, Simon. Unless it's an immediate matter of life and death, I won't make any moves against Zedd, should he start trying to 'convince' us to move," the Sentinel promised. "Unless I tell you first."

Simon gave Jim a withering look. "Nice try, Ellison, but no dice. Do NOT make a move on him. Let me do my job, for God's sake."

"Fine, fine. You have my word," Jim growled, less than happy with the conversation. "But if things get rough, you'll get an extra deputy."

"Let's not borrow trouble, okay Big Guy? Maybe we're just jumping the gun. The Zedds have been around quite a while now, and haven't caused any real problems. Don't go getting all stirred up over nothing," Sandburg advised in a soothing voice. "The kids will pick up on it, and they don't need to be subjected to any worry about our neighbors."

"I said fine, Sandburg. And as long as they don't try anything, it will BE fine. Simon, you ready for another brandy?" Ellison asked pointedly changing the subject.

"No, thanks, Jim. I should be heading back to town. Thanks for the excellent dinner Hannah," he added as he stood up, accompanied by Ellison and Sandburg. "You keep my offer in mind."

"Quit trying to lure Hannah away, Simon. She'll never leave her kids, anyway. I'll stop by the office Monday after I get Billy settled in school and look over the older reports you have about missing children. See if someone out there is looking for him," the Sentinel told the sheriff as the three men stepped out on the front porch and Simon untied his horse.

"Well, then, I'll see you Monday. Welcome home, guys," the big man smiled at them both as he spurred his horse away from the sprawling ranch house, his way lighted by a full moon in an unusually clear night sky.

~*~

Sunday passed in a flurry of church and visits and baths, getting ready for the busy week of school and chores coming up. After dinner there was a two-hour period where they all gathered in the large living room and various projects or activities were pursued. A large chess set was pulled out, and Jim coached Trini, Jason, Adam, and Aisha in the intricacies of the game. Katherine, Kimberly, and Tanya, under Hannah's supervision, were happily sewing small outfits for Henri Brown's wife, who was expecting their first child in four months. Tommy and Rocky were playing checkers, using some odd, elaborate rules they'd come up with themselves, while Zack was sketching in a small pad, using a soft charcoal pencil. Blair was reading aloud from a book of mythology, entertaining the seamstresses as they worked, and ignoring some of the odd comments the other children came up with from time to time.

Billy had sat down in a small chair in a corner, looking around with avid interest at the various activities, but obviously unwilling to risk rejection by asking to join any. His gaze then fell on the nearby bookshelves, three feet wide and nearly ceiling high, and loaded with books; a precious commodity in the west. Blair glanced up from his reading and noticed the youth's wistful look and hastened to their newest charge's side.

"Billy, you are welcome to read any of the books here. The only rule is that you treat the books with respect, and leave them here in the living room, not in your bedroom. The lowest three shelves are books that should interest you kids; the upper shelves are some of my old college texts and research books. So you go ahead and look them over more closely, if you're interested. You won't get in trouble," he assured the boy, noticing how the green eyes seemed to light up a little with his words. Realizing the youngster would feel awkward if Blair just hovered over him, he returned to his reading, glancing over to the book corner occasionally to check on Billy's actions.

Eventually the youngster apparently found a book he wanted, and had settled back down in the chair, engrossed in the large volume. Curious, Blair looked over at the bookshelf, noticing an empty space on the fifth shelf up, where some of his old Anthropology textbooks were kept. Remembering that that particular tome had numerous illustrations, he figured the boy was simply checking out the pictures, so he didn't disturb his quiet enjoyment. Sandburg knew in time it was important that Billy become more integrated in the group, but they had learned over the last few years that it would happen in its own way, in its own time. Friendships could not be forced, but if given the proper environment would spring forth naturally.

The next morning Jim joined the children on the walk into town and school, wanting to properly introduce Billy to Miss Cora Appleby, the schoolmarm who ruled over Cascade's one room schoolhouse with a fond rule. The rotund woman in her mid thirties had twenty-seven students ranging from six-year-old Samuel Stone to seventeen-year-old Melissa Thompson, who had dreams of attending medical school.

"Mr. Ellison, this is a pleasant surprise," Miss Appleby greeted Jim on the front steps of the school, her pleasant round face showing an almost girlish blush in the presence of the big man. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I'm hoping you have room for one more student," he explained, indicating the silent youth by his side. "Billy, this is Miss Appleby, she's going to be your teacher. Miss Appleby, this is Billy."

"Hi, Billy. Welcome to school," Cora said, leaning down and offering a hand to shake. The little boy gave his timid smile and shook her hand, looking up at her a little apprehensively.

The schoolteacher raised her eyes curiously at Ellison, wondering about the silence, so Jim hailed Adam as he wandered by. "Adam, would you please show Billy around the schoolroom, help him find a seat? Thanks," he requested, watching as the two boys went through the door.

"What's the story with this one?" Miss Appleby asked gently, having gotten used to the sad stories of the children Jim and Blair took in.

"His mother apparently died several years ago, his father's fate we don't know yet. When we found him he was in the custody of two men who abused him, badly. He's currently not talking, though we do know he can physically make sounds. We're not pushing him to speak for the time being, he's been through a lot, has a lot of healing to do. I asked him earlier if he'd ever been to school, and he shook his head 'no', so I'm guessing he's going to have a lot of catching up to do, too. I'd appreciate it if you'd keep an extra eye on him, let me know if you notice anyone giving him any real trouble, or any indication of a problem," the Sentinel concluded, his handsome face worried looking.

"Poor little fella, of course I'll keep an eye on him." She sighed deeply and sorrowfully. "I'll never understand how anyone can abuse a child. I trust the men who hurt him won't be back?"

"No, ma'am, no chance of that. Thank you," he said, tipping his hat respectfully before heading back into town to conclude his business. Behind him he heard Cora's clear voice calling the children in for the start of school, and the assorted whines from the children reluctant to give up their play for the confinement of the classroom.

~*~

Nahum Goldar's first name was one of the best kept secrets of the territory. The last person who dared to utter it out loud found himself picking his teeth out of the mud behind the local saloon, a task made more difficult by the broken fingers on both hands.

Goldar was sixteen at the time.

The intervening years had done nothing to soften his attitude when it came to the name his deeply religious parents had saddled him with. After two years of frequent battles to quell the use of the hated appellation, he had finally succeeded, it seemed. He was known to all, even his few friends and employer, simply as Goldar. Any attempt to call him by a nickname - especially one drunk cowboy's ill advisedd attempt to call him Goldie - met with varying degrees of disapproval. Disapproval that often required the services of a doctor in the aftermath if one was lucky, the services of the undertaker if one was not, but either way there had never been a repeat offender.

At age twenty-two Goldar met up with Gaylord and Rita Zedd, who were on their way to Washington to build a cattle empire in the fertile country. The Zedds had made a small fortune by running a very profitable bootleg service during the Civil War, making a tidy profit from the country's turmoil. Cold, opportunistic, and determined to succeed no matter who they had to destroy in the process, the Zedds quickly decided Goldar would be a perfect foreman in their venture. Goldar had the knowledge of the workings of western society; the Zedds knew how to carefully hide less than legitimate business dealings so they would appear clean.

They were a perfect match of ruthlessness and subterfuge, and in barely five years they had quintupled their original land holdings outside Cascade. Only the hundred acres owned by James Ellison stood between the Zedds and a complete monopoly of the land north of town.

And Gaylord and Rita Zedd wanted that land, no matter what.

~*~

"Mr. Ellison! Mr. Ellison, may I have a moment, please?"

Jim looked up, startled from his thoughts by the feminine voice calling out to him from a half block back. Turning he spied Miss Appleby's ample figure fast approaching, her face flushed with effort as she waved to get his attention. Mentally bracing himself for bad news - why else would the schoolmarm be looking for him? - he found a smile for the harried looking woman.

"Good day, Miss Appleby," he greeted her formally, tipping his hat. "What may I do for you today?"

"I'd appreciate it if you'd come to the school with me for just a few minutes. I have something I think you need to see to appreciate."

Realizing that the problem must be worse than he expected, Jim simply nodded his agreement, and ushered the woman back toward the school. Noticing that the building appeared to be standing okay and no windows were broken, Ellison breathed a small sigh of relief. At least whatever the problem was, it didn't involve massive property damage.

"Today...this morning...we had our weekly math test. It's not a big deal, you understand, just so I can be sure the children have really caught on to the concepts in the lessons for the week," Cora explained as she escorted Jim into the schoolroom. "I put up ten problems for them to solve, they are to write the answers out on their slates. I correct them during lunch, then afterwards will help each child as is needed. As you can see, I had four different levels of questions this morning."

Jim looked around at the blackboards, noting that there were a total of forty questions, only half of which he felt qualified to solve himself. "You've got some tough problems up here."

"Well, those ten were for Melissa, she asked me for some problems like she might encounter on an advanced math test at college. She's been studying ahead on her own, and I was happy to do anything that might help her. Frankly, Mr. Ellison, I can't solve those problems myself, they are beyond the math classes I took in college. Melissa got four of the ten correct, which I thought was quite impressive," Miss Appleby explained, indicating the ten questions on the far right.

"Anyway, I was halfway through correcting the children's work when I came across this," she added, holding out a slate for Jim's inspection.

The slate was covered with a multitude of small numbers, pinched in closely front and back, with a barely legible name printed in the upper right corner: Billy. Ellison looked at the woman in some surprise, Billy had only started school five days ago.

"Maybe he didn't understand the instructions?" he asked with a shrug, not understanding quite what had bothered the woman so much. Granted, it wasn't something they usually had much of a problem with; kids trying to do too MUCH schoolwork. But it hardly seemed important enough to drag him in here for.

"No, no, Mr. Ellison, I don't think you understand. Those answers are correct. ALL of them. Billy answered all forty questions, including some college level problems, and got them all right. This is material I haven't covered in class at all, that I'll never cover in class. I've been watching him this week, and this is really just proof positive of what I'd begun to suspect. Billy is extraordinarily intelligent. May even be labeled a genius," she concluded, looking up into Jim's startled blue eyes.

"A genius? Couldn't it be he just studied this sometime? Guessed lucky, maybe?" Jim ran a distracted hand over his head, trying to puzzle out this turn of events.

"I don't know about him having studied this, of course. But it wasn't guesswork. He showed enough of his work on the slate here. He understands HOW to solve these problems; I'm very impressed, really. At this time it's not a problem, Mr. Ellison. As you yourself indicated on Monday, Billy needs to do some healing, and as yet his written work is somewhat sub par, but I suspect that is at least partially due to his reluctance to talk. After all, writing is just like talking, only silent. It's for that reason I am not pushing him to write much, yet. But, he appears to be an eager reader, I look forward to finding out just how good his reading skills are." The teacher laid a comforting hand on Ellison's strong forearm and gave him a glowing smile. "This isn't bad news, you understand? It's actually rather glorious news. With the right encouragement, the right opportunities, there is literally nothing he won't be able to do, nothing he can't achieve."

"Well, I have to admit, you've thrown me for a bit of a loop, Miss Appleby. I wasn't expecting this at all, I expected you to tell me Jason and Tommy were fighting again, or Rocky was disrupting class, or something. I'll talk to Blair about this, and we'll try to find out if Billy had been taking some sort of class from his dad or something. I guess otherwise, just keep us apprised of his progress, if you would please. And thank you, for caring enough to chase me down to tell me this. I appreciate your dedication," Jim said, very sincerely if formally. For some odd reason dealing with Miss Appleby made the Sentinel feel like a child again, caught making trouble in class, so he usually ended up sounding stiff and formal in the woman's presence.

"Mr. Ellison, the pleasure is mine. I just know he's going to be a wonderful student to have in class. Now, if you don't mind, I need to call them in from lunch. They've already gotten an extra ten minutes rest time, if I let them go too long they'll be impossible to deal with," she explained, gently shepherding the big man out the door as she spoke.

He strode down the steps as Miss Appleby called out for the students to come back in from lunch, and a quick glance showed his eleven charges standing together in a clump looking at him apprehensively. Realizing they must be worried that there was some sort of problem, he smiled and walked over to them.

"Relax, no one's in trouble. This time. Though I am curious as to why such guilty faces..." he trailed off suggestively, unable to maintain his stern expression in the face of such wide eyed innocence. "Okay, okay, just teasing. Get yourselves into class before you DO get in trouble," he laughed, shooing them toward the building amid cries of 'that's mean to tease!' and 'see you later!'.

Hurrying back downtown, he quickly finished his errands, wanting to get home and discuss Miss Appleby's discovery with Blair before the kids got home from school.

~*~

Jim found his Guide sitting uncharacteristically still on the front porch, his expression pensive, and somehow sorrowful. Tying his horse to the hitching post, the Sentinel sat down on the railing in front of his friend, taking off his hat and tossing it on a nearby table.

"Hey, Chief. I just had an interesting meeting with Cora Appleby," he said with a half grin, knowing it would get his friend's attention and take his mind off of whatever it was that had him so down.

"Uh-oh, now who did what?" the younger man asked in an almost defeated tone of voice. Surprised by Blair's attitude, Jim nonetheless reported what had transpired during his meeting with the schoolmarm, enjoying the sudden interest his friend showed.

"A genius? Wow, I guess maybe he really WAS reading that book on Sunday night, I thought he was just looking at pictures. But this cold open up a whole new set of problems, if Miss Appleby is right..." Blair trailed off, his expression again troubled.

"What is it, Chief? What's happened? You looked like someone had died when I rode up, but I thought this news might at least cheer you up," the Sentinel commented with a worried frown.

"Simon came by," the smaller man said after a pause. "Gave me this letter, it's from Jack Pendegrast. He got the information on Billy's dad."

"I take it this isn't good news," Ellison concluded, a vague sense of dread stealing over him.

"Here, read it for yourself."

Jim removed three sheets of paper from the envelope. The first was a brief note from Jack, expressing his hope that Billy was recovering well, and explaining he was forwarding the two letters he got in response from the town of Nordwick, Oregon. The second letter was from the sheriff of Nordwick, informing them that Wallace Cranston had died in that town nearly a month before, and requesting his condolences be forwarded to his son. The third letter was written on fragranced pink paper, and Jim opened it curiously.

To who it may cuncern:

My name is Rubylee Dawkins, and I work at the Night Owl Saloon, entertainin the gests, if you no what I mean. The sherif was askin about what happined when the pothacary got killed, seeing as he wasnt in town then. I seen the hole thing, but there wasnt anything I could do to stop it even tho I wanted to. It werent right, no how, and I spect I ain't the only one having bad dreams bout it.

Walis, that were the pothacarys name, came to town like as always, bringing us all our medicins. I always got my iron tonic from him, he stocked it speshul for me, he said. Folks all came to see him, jus like always, and he had these free samples - gave them away to everone. Said they was vitamens, good for children to help them grow and such.

But then folks got sick - real sick. A high fever, pain, throwing up, everthing. Walis said it werent his falt, the vitamens wernt what was making them all sick. But then Josiahs little girl, she was only five, died, then the Meachams younges son who was three. Now Josiah is a powerful man in this town, and he loved his Molly to peeces, he did. He was greeving, and I think that is why it happened. He went to the saloon, and started knockin back the drinks like there was no tomorow. And the drinks, well that jus lets the demons out, you unnerstand. He started shouting that Walis was a killer of babys, and had to pay for what he done. It was rite then that the doc came by and said that the Meacham boy was dead too, and all hell broke loose. I gess greef and fear can make normul folks do the worse things. Cos I have lived here for years and never saw folks act like they did that afternoon. They started callin out terible things to Walis, a hole mob of folks by then. Walis tryed to esplane that the vitamens dint make them sick, but no one was lisening to him bye then.

I was up on the balcony, it goes acros the front street and along both sides, so I culd see all that went on. Even so I dont no who thru the first stone, but it could have ben Josiah himself. Then more were throne, and more, then Walises little boy was there, trying to help his daddy. Well Walis just grabed him and ran down the ally trying to get away. But there is a fence at the end, but Walis didnt no that.

By then the townfolk were geting scary, just picking up stones and throwing them at Walis and his boy, even tho anyone shuld no the boy was inocent. Walis lifted the little boy up and got him over the fence, but then the mob got him with a bunch of rocks all at once. I could see the little boy reaching thru the fence, trying to help his daddy, and the blud on Walis from the rocks and things and I could hear the boy crying but no one cared.

I culdnt take it anymore and I went downstairs to at leest get the boy, but when I got to the ally they had quit throwing rocks and had set their pothacary wagon on fire and Wallis was dead and the boy ran off.

And you want to no the wurst part? Two hours later a rider from another town came, looking for the meat wagun that sells fres meat. Seams they had a outbrake of illness too and it was the meat. Wel, the meat wagon had been here the day befor, and acording to what they said the illnes was jus the same. So it wasnt even the vitamens that made folks sick, it was the meat.

Folks here felt reel bad bout what they did, and gave Walis a good funerul, and I think they wood have helped the boy too, but culdnt find him. I hope you do have him safe and happy and he can forget what hapened to his dad. His dad was a good man, and he is a good boy.

I hope this is what you wanted to no. If you have any questuns Im always here.

Rubylee

Jim drew a slow breath and rubbed one large hand down his face, pausing to pinch the bridge of his nose as if in pain. "My God, he saw his father stoned to death in front of him? No wonder he's not talking. Then to end up with the men he was with when we found him..." his voice trailed off into a sigh.

"I know, Jim. I know. When I stop to think about it I just...you know I'm not a violent person, but this...this could make me change my mind, you know? The worst thing is, I can understand what happened in that town. I mean, intellectually I can understand it. There's a kind of 'pack mentality' that can occur in emotionally charged circumstances, and otherwise rational people can do the most bizarre things. So I know why it happened, but I don't understand WHY it happened, if you know what I mean. What could one little boy have done to deserve that kind of experience?" Blair sighed, then looked up a Jim ruefully. "Okay, I'll quit whining, now. And he'll be okay, he's obviously a tough little guy."

"Yeah, I noticed that. And let's face it, he's in good company, all of our kids have seen things no child should see." This was no more than the truth, sadly enough. The first five children they took in had watched from a distance as their families were killed. Kimberly had sat beside her mother's deathbed for several weeks, and Jason had seen his father shot down in the street by a coward. Katherine had heard the cries of the dying when the ship she and her family had been on sank. None of them knew how Tommy's parents had died, or if he had witnessed it, but he had lost his foster parents in a fire, while Rocky had no memory of what had happened to him, or to his family.

Yes, the sad truth was, this was a group of youngsters who had seen more of death than some people saw in a lifetime.

"At least now his silence makes sense, and maybe I can start trying to chip away at that. And this being a genius, this is really kind of exciting. I'll go in and see Miss Appleby next week, maybe give Billy some tests myself. If we can figure out where his strengths and weaknesses are we can work together to make sure he's kept interested. If he gets too bored with school, it could effect his morale. I'm betting he's the kind of student who likes a challenge, to learn new things, to stretch intellectually. In fact, if he likes math so much, I can probably get some older textbooks from my old friend, Daniel. He has access to them at Harvard, I'll write him now, and make sure it makes the next post East," the younger man muttered, standing up and heading inside, still muttering plans to himself.

Ellison watched him go with a fond smile, shaking his head as he recognized the symptoms of Blair Sandburg in full research mode. While Blair never expressed any regrets about choosing the rough and ready life of the frontier, there were times the Sentinel suspected he missed the chance to hobnob with his intellectual equals. Even Miss Appleby and Dr. Wolf were not quite the same caliber intellect as Jim's Guide and best friend, though no force on Earth would drag that observation from the younger man. But this child, battered as he was by circumstances, offered something Ellison instinctively recognized as being vital to Sandburg's continued happiness; a chance to teach and an opportunity to commune with an mind as quick and sure and boundless as his own. The older man honestly suspected Billy would begin to speak again in self-defense, if nothing else.

Standing, the big man carefully put the three letters back in the envelope, planning to put them in his desk before heading out to do the afternoon chores. Next week he'd go see the town's one and only lawyer, and have his tenth set of adoption papers drawn up. From the beginning, Jim had adopted each child, excepting Rocky, to prevent hassles, and to provide maximum legal protection for the children's future. His will clearly stated that should he die, he wanted Blair to raise the children in his stead, and if Blair predeceased him, then Hannah would be his choice. The children knew they were adopted, but no big deal was made of it; all the adults made it plain that their love and caring were not dependent on a piece of paper, whatever that paper might say.

The lone exception, Rocky, was for the simplest reason of all; they had absolutely no idea if Rocky's parents were alive or not. Until such time as the fate of the elder DeSantos was determined, Rocky would remain with Jim and Blair, but without the same legal protection the other ten had. It was the best they could do for the youngster, and they honestly hoped they would never be able to adopt the boy, since he lived and breathed for his hope that someday his family would find him.

It was a dream the adults couldn't...wouldn't...crush with pessimistic observations about how long it had been since Rocky was found, and the odds of their having survived in that area, at that time of year, if injured or lost. Every night the boy prayed for his family's safety, and every night the adults prayed a child's faith would be rewarded, but so far it had been over a year with no word.

~*~

That night after dinner and dishes, Jim and Blair called Billy aside, ignoring the curious looks the other kids shot them. The small boy stood looking anxiously at his two benefactors, a worried frown wrinkling the area between two pale eyebrows.

"Billy, you indicated you haven't gone to school before, right?" Blair asked calmly, giving the youngster an encouraging smile as the youth nodded in agreement.

"Did you study on your own, with your dad?" he continued, getting a nod and slight shrug in reply to that one, along with an increase in the child's heart rate that caught the Sentinel's attention.

"It's okay, Billy. You're not in trouble," the big man reassured him. "Miss Appleby was impressed by how well you did on the math test, but we were wondering how you knew to solve those problems."

Billy shrugged again, this time in a self-deprecating manner, as if it wasn't a big deal, his signs of nervousness fading. It was obvious that he didn't consider his scholastic abilities to be very important, as was evidenced by the puzzled look he gave the two men.

"When you had that book on Sunday, were you actually reading it?" Blair asked, receiving an affirmative nod in answer. "Did you understand what you were reading?" he continued. The youngster gave him a puzzled look and nodded again, his expression clearly showing he thought that particular question was ridiculous.

Jim and Blair exchanged a look, along with a rueful grin, then released Billy to return back to the other kids. Watching the slight figure stroll back toward the boys' room, Blair sighed softly.

"I really wish he'd start talking. I mean, I can understand why he doesn't...honest I can...but I really would like to be able to test his limits, see just how bright he is. Like I said, I'm going to write to Daniel, my friend who's still at Harvard. He mentioned one time some tests to measure intelligence, maybe he can get me some to give Billy. That book he was reading, that was a college text, Jim. If he was actually reading it, and understanding WHAT he was reading, well...I've got to tell you, this could almost be more of a problem than if he was mentally handicapped. Our little school here isn't equipped with the kinds of resources he's likely to need, especially if he's interested in science. I remember being so frustrated as a kid, we didn't have the equipment to really do any experiments, and things like a microscope were unheard of. When I got to the city, the first thing I did was stake out the library and start to read. Maybe Daniel can get some textbooks headed our way..." Blair reached out to grab a slip of paper, writing down ideas as quickly as he thought of them, tapping the top of the pen thoughtfully against his teeth between times.

"Chief, you need to slow down here. First things first, Buddy. He's a little boy, and he's been through a lot. He still has nightmares; I've heard Jason calming him down a couple of times late at night. He needs comfort, safety, and love more than he needs books. He needs good meals and a bit of cuddling from Hannah, and rules, guidance, protection, and the occasional hug from you and I. He needs routine and predictability and a chance to heal. THEN he needs books and science equipment and whatever else comes along. Just don't push the school issue yet. Let him be a little boy for a while, and let's see how that works first, okay?" Jim protested, holding up his hands to symbolically slow his partner's headlong rush.

"You're right, you're right. I know you're right. I just get excited about the idea of a child who possibly possesses such a gift. I'll back off, though I'm going to post a letter to Daniel as soon as possible, since it'll take several weeks more than likely to get a reply. In the meantime I'll do what I can to keep him from being bored while he heals up. But mark my words, James," the young man continued in an exaggerated lofty tone that brought a smile to Jim's face. "This one will go far."

~*~

"Come on, Adam, we don't want to be late to the picnic, or all the rhubarb pie will be gone," Rocky whined at his friend as the two boys changed from their 'Sunday best' back to their play clothes after church. That afternoon there was a town picnic down by the river, in a large clearing most folks considered as a sort of open park; the land being owned by one of the oldest families in the area and unofficially donated for public use.

"I'm coming, I just need to tie my shoe. And don't worry about the pie, no one wants to eat that, it's nasty tasting," Adam replied, teasing his friend in his quiet way. In some sort of strange attraction of opposites, Adam and Rocky had struck up a surprisingly strong friendship from the moment Rocky joined their home. Once he recovered from his injuries and the shock of losing his family, the young DeSantos boy proved to have an outgoing, open, enthusiastic way about him which seemed to suit the quiet, shy Adam. Rocky stirred up the other boy, encouraging him in assorted mischievous adventures, which the seemingly well-behaved Asian youth joined in with surprising spirit. The more studious Adam helped Rocky over various scholastic obstacles, which at least kept him out of trouble in school - most of the time.

As the two boys raced outside to join the rest of the children for the walk into town, Jim and Blair were helping Hannah and the girls load the food into the wagon. After assisting Hannah into the driver's seat, the two men got the children walking toward the picnic area, strolling along behind so they could keep an eye on their lively group.

As was the natural order of groups, there was an unspoken hierarchy among the youngsters, which was far more dependent on their individual personalities than on their seniority. Jason had been the undisputed leader since he first joined the family nine months after the first five children. This had not surprised Jim in the slightest, since from the first time he'd met Jason Lee Scott he'd sensed something special about the dark-eyed boy. Over time this feeling had grown stronger, and with Jason's occasional bout of hypersensitivity to his surroundings it had finally become clear: the boy possessed Sentinel abilities that were as yet not fully active. This at least helped explain why, even as a very young child, Jason had possessed a self confidence and maturity that set him apart from the rest, along with a natural inclination to protect those smaller and weaker than him, regardless of any danger to himself. This had held true through the additions of Katherine, Kimberly, and Rocky over the next three years. It wasn't until Tommy was added to their group that there was any real friction; he and Jason had been at odds from day one.

Apparently the half Indian youth had become accustomed to being in a position of leadership; he'd been the eldest and strongest child in his foster family, easily more self-assured than the other children there. It was obvious to the adults that at some point Tommy had learned that he had to be the one in control, personal 'power' was important to him. So he had so far butted heads on nearly every juncture with Jason, the two boys had been punished several times for fighting, and still it happened. Ironically, there was no meanness in Tommy, and surprisingly little anger given the fact the boy had been abused in his early childhood before landing with his foster parents - the faded scars were certainly proof of that. And though his methods and attitude were different, he was just as prone as Jason to protecting those less able to protect themselves. However, Tommy had shown no signs at all of latent Sentinel abilities, nor did Jim sense anything unusual about him.

It was Blair's opinion that if Tommy and Jason could just learn to cooperate...find some middle, common ground...they'd make great friends. But, until that unlikely event they would persist in bringing out the worst in each other and the visits to the woodshed for attitude adjustments would continue.

But on this bright Sunday afternoon there was no sign of disharmony among the children, they were walking in small groups of two to four, talking enthusiastically about a variety of subjects dear to a child's heart. Tommy strolled along with Adam and Rocky, the three of them discussing who would be their best choice for the fourth runner in the relay races. Aisha and Kimberly were quietly plotting a way to talk Hannah into letting them have a kitten, figuring that if they had Hannah's approval then Jim and Blair would go along with it. Trini, Zack, and Jason, with Billy listening in, were debating the fastest way to get across the country: horseback vs. train, given all the stops trains had to make. While Tanya and Katherine were idly gossiping about the play that would be coming to town the next month, and their hopes that it would be judged appropriate for them to see.

The two adults walked quietly, the Sentinel keeping his hearing turned down to afford the children the luxury of privacy, even though they didn't know it. If any of the youngsters had noticed Jim had unusual abilities, they had never mentioned it, and neither man had discussed it with any of them. Even Hannah didn't know of Jim's enhanced senses, though she had certainly heard the gossip about William Ellison's strange son, she never spoke of it to anyone. Around the ranch it was simply accepted without question or surprise that Jim seemed to just KNOW when a child or animal was in distress, or when danger from either nature or man was approaching. Simon was the only person in Cascade who knew of the existence of the Sentinel, and his Guide, and he kept their secret faithfully. In time, of course, Jason would be included in their confidence when his own abilities became more developed, but neither adult was rushing that time, wanting the boy to enjoy his childhood as unfettered as possible by the added responsibilities his senses could entail.

The clearing was already ringed with wagons and families, while the middle area was rapidly filling with clumps of adults visiting and children of all ages running about deeply engaged in games that made no sense to anyone over the age of twelve. The smell of kindling fires and freshly baked pies permeated the air, and more than one hand was slapped while trying to snag a sample of one tasty treat or another. The arrival of the eleven Ellison children (as they were usually referred to) added to the general havoc, and soon Jim and Blair sought out Simon's genial company, trusting the kids would be okay in the presence of so many adults.

Eventually Mayor Miles Carrington called for everyone's attention, and announced the start of the day's games. The adults smilingly moved to the outer areas, leaving a long area through the middle of the clearing for the contests. The next hour folks yelled themselves hoarse cheering on the young, and young at heart, in the three legged race, egg race, two- and four- man relay race, and wheelbarrow race. The end event was the most popular of all, one most of the men joined in for; an all out tug-of-war. The women all gathered buckets of water before the start of the contest, and the losing team was the recipient of an impromptu cold shower from the laughing spectators.

Afterwards the food, which had taken hours of patient labor in hot kitchens to prepare, was consumed with unseemly haste and unparalleled good cheer. Hannah felt a surge of satisfaction as her charges paid silent tribute to her culinary skills by fairly well eating every morsel of food she'd brought, capped by four pies. Sitting in places of honor on the huge blanket that was serving as a table, were several small trophies won by the kids earlier. Much to the boys' disgust, the four-man relay was won by Tanya, Trini, Kimberly and Aisha, while Zack and Jason took first place in the three legged race.

Hannah enjoyed a much deserved break while the children cleaned up the after dinner mess, before taking off for a last bit of fun before heading back to the ranch. Blair was sitting on the back of the wagon regaling a small group of young adults with a story from his well traveled youth, earning more than one frosty glare from his on-again, off-again girlfriend, Samantha.

Jim's discussion with Simon and Henri Brown was disrupted by the sounds of excited childish shouts from the area of the river. Something in the tone caught the Sentinel's attention, and he instinctively turned his hearing toward the disturbance, realizing immediately there was a fight going on, and at least one of his youngsters was involved. Rushing over, he found Jason slugging it out with a boy at least four years older than he was, and definitely getting the worst of it.

"Hey, hey! That's enough, boys," Jim fairly roared, grabbing the combatants by the scruff of the neck and forcibly separating them. "Just what is the meaning of this display?"

"He was pushing the other kids around, he almost pushed Billy into the river," Jason growled, glaring angrily at the larger boy.

"Is that the truth?" Jim asked the other boy coldly, giving him a rough shake. He recognized the larger youth as one of the Kinney boys, whose parents were both wealthy and negligent.

"We was just fooling around, I wasn't hurting them any," the boy was not stupid enough to try belligerence with the obviously angry man, but a self righteous whine did creep into his tone.

"Somehow I think you were the only one having any fun," Sandburg observed dryly, his gaze taking in the muddied patches on Rocky's pants, the leaves caught in Aisha's hair, and the fact Billy's pants were soaked up to the knees. Adam and Kimberly were also there, looking uncharacteristically angry.

"Hey there, Ellison, what the hell do you think you're doing, manhandling my son like that?" a strident voice cut in as Otis Kinney made his way through the gathering crowd.

"Just trying to find out why he felt he had to pick on kids younger and smaller than he is, apparently including a couple of girls. Seems like he's a bit overdue for a lesson in manners, wouldn't you say?" the Sentinel replied, releasing the boy with a final squeeze to his neck.

"I'd say it's high time you tended to your own problems, Ellison. Bringing in all these...undesirables, bringing them around like they're suitable to mix with normal folks. You got your nerve, I'll give you that. They probably ganged up on my Ricky, he's lucky he wasn't hurt by these hooligans," Otis spewed his poisonous words loudly, fueled by more than a little liquor.

With his blue eyes cold with rage, Jim stepped forward to defend his children, only to find himself restrained by Blair on one side and Sheriff Simon Banks on the other.

"Get home, Otis, and sleep it off, before I decide you'll be safer in a cell," Banks ordered the man with quiet fury, which even drunk Kinney had the sense to recognize. He staggered off followed by his tight-lipped wife and swaggering son, while the rest of the crowd slowly dispersed, seeing the potential excitement was over.

"Jim, you can't do things like that," Blair hissed as the people walked off. "You can't tell the kids not to fight, just to get into one yourself. Calm down."

Ellison recognized the wisdom of his Guide's words, but the anger still sang in his blood, the need to protect his tribe was strong. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and wrestling his emotions back under control, focusing on his Guide's touch and heartbeat to center himself. Feeling control return, he looked back at the children, his anger threatening to erupt anew at the pained expressions he saw. Kinney's words may have been fueled by drink, but they'd found their marks with cruel accuracy.

All eleven of the youngsters had heard Kinney's words, even Jason no longer looked angry as much as hurt and bewildered by the man's vehemence. The Kinney boy did not attend the local school, but instead had a private tutor at home, so there had been no real reason for him to dislike the Ellison brood. No reason but that the children were different, and apparently that had been all Ricky had needed to justify his picking on those who were smaller and weaker than he.

"Are you kids okay? Is anyone hurt?" Jim asked, knowing it was a foolish question, but unable to help himself. A slow round of headshakes indicated there were at least no physical injuries, but Tanya looked up at the adults with a puzzled frown.

"Why does he hate us? What did we do to him?"

"He's an idiot, Sweetheart, he hates for no reason at all. I'm sorry you had to hear such things from anyone, but there are some profoundly stupid folks in the world who will judge you based on things like skin color. You know we've talked about this before, Mr. Kinney is just another example of how ignorant some people can be," Blair said, putting a comforting arm around the little girl's shoulders. They HAD discussed racism and prejudice before, since out of eleven children, seven of them were likely to deal with issues of racial prejudice in their lives.

"Still hurts," the little girl murmured, leaning into the comfort offered.

"I know, I wish it didn't have to be this way," Blair said softly, beginning to herd the youngsters back toward their wagon. It was definitely time for them to be heading home, and later they'd have a long talk, try to help the children deal with the cruel words hurled their way.

Jim paused, and reached out to lay his hand on Jason's shoulder, indicating the boy should wait with him until the rest had left. Looking apprehensively up at the big man, the boy sighed, knowing he was in trouble again.

"Want to tell me what happened here?" Ellison asked, sitting down on a convenient fallen tree so they could be more eye-to-eye, though at the moment the boy's gaze was firmly on his feet.

"He was being so mean to us, and I was going to go get an adult, like you told us to, but he pushed Billy, and he almost fell in the river, and I don't know if he can swim and I got so mad, I just hit him, then he hit back, then I was fighting and I know it was wrong, but it's wrong for him to push smaller kids around. He even pushed Aisha down, and tried to grab Kimberly and they're girls! Adam got her away, but he could have drowned Billy if he'd fallen all the way into the river." Jason finally took a deep breath and looked up into Jim's eyes. "I know it was wrong to fight, but I had to do something to stop him."

The last was said not with defiance, but with an odd kind of acceptance, as if he felt he had no choice but to defend those who could not defend themselves. Jim mentally sighed, understanding all too well what drove the youngster, and torn between knowing that Jason needed to learn to control both his temper and his impulses, and wanting to acknowledge and applaud that fierce compassion and protective nature.

"Ah, Jason, what am I going to do with you?" he wondered, laying a big hand on the still small shoulder and staring at the river, thinking the situation over carefully. He was in an awkward position, since it was obvious that he himself had nearly gotten into a fight with the elder Kinney: Jason would have had to be blind not to notice that.

"I'm sorry," the child said softly, scuffing his right foot over his left one in a nervous manner. He hated waiting to hear how he was to be punished!

"I know, Jason. And this isn't quite like when you've gotten in trouble for fighting with Tommy, say. Those times you got angry, and used your fists to express your anger. That is completely unacceptable. This time you got angry, yes, but...you were also protecting your family. There's nothing wrong with wanting to protect those you care about, but you HAVE to learn to do it appropriately. And, first clue for you here young man, an appropriate method usually won't leave you with a black eye and split lip like you have now. Notice, I'm not saying it NEVER will. There are times where fighting is unavoidable, I know that. And while I'm not convinced this particular fight was unavoidable, I'm also not convinced it wasn't. So, here's the deal. I want you to clean out the chicken coop by Friday. It's been a while, so it's going to take some time," he noted, carefully ignoring Jason's aggrieved expression. Cleaning the chicken coop was pretty much saved as a 'punishment chore' since it was one of the least pleasant tasks on the ranch. The coop was low, enclosed, and quite simply STANK. And cleaning it out was tedious and disgusting at best, with a bunch of irritated chickens only making it worse.

"When you're done I want you to come to me, and I expect you to have at least three suggestions as to how you could have handled this situation today without resorting to slugging it out with a boy considerably larger than you are. So, see? You'll have something to think about to make your task a little easier," Ellison noted with a slight grin. Jason didn't look particularly happy with this task, but they both knew the boy would give it an honest effort. He always did.

"Yes, Sir," he replied, squaring his shoulders as if preparing for an ordeal as Jim stood up and walked over to the river, hunkering down on the bank. He turned back a moment later, wringing out his red bandana.

"Come here and let me have a look at you," the Sentinel requested, sitting back down and drawing Jason closer. He gently used the wet cloth to clean the blood from the split lip, and the dirt from around the bruised and swelling eye. "Well, you're going to be a bit of a mess for a while, but I suspect you'll live." He pulled the boy close for a quick rough hug, rubbing his hand up and down the solid young back. "You've got a good heart, Jason. And all the best intentions. Once we get that temper of yours under control, you'll have it made. Now get a move on and catch up with the rest of the kids. They're probably wondering what I've done to you."

Jason gave Jim a wide, relieved smile, then turned and hurried along the path back toward the clearing, frankly grateful he'd been spared another trip to the woodshed, the usual penalty for him breaking the no fighting rule. Cleaning the chicken coop was not fun, and but neither was having to sit on a pillow at dinner, and all things considered he preferred the extra chore.

Jim watched the boy leave, wishing he could find a way to help Jason fight his battle for control. He really hadn't learned self-discipline until he served in the Civil War, and that had been a horrible way to get that particular lesson. And even now, he was honest enough to admit, his control was sporadic at best, and often dependent on Blair's intervention. Walking at a more sedate pace, automatically monitoring the activities around their wagon as Jason rejoined the family, the Sentinel again tried to think of a suitable way to teach Jason, and some of the other children as well, more appropriate ways to deal with confrontations. Physically punishing a child for hitting someone was illogical at best, even so he'd had to resort to that from time to time with Jason, at least in cases where his fighting was honestly unprovoked.

There had to be some way to teach the children about self-control that wasn't punishment or a major social upheaval such as a war.

~*~

Eve Beauchamp was one of the most eligible young women in Cascade; beautiful, elegant, charming, and from one of the wealthiest families in the area. Her parents provided her with the best and latest of everything, including her wagon, which she drove about Cascade waving gaily at her many acquaintances. She was not a malicious young woman, actually quite kind natured for the most part, but she WAS well aware of her effect on the young men of the town, and was not above using that to get her way. If charm and feigned helplessness didn't work, she would resort to playing two young men's interest in her against each other, all without any actual malice of forethought.

So when her fancy new carriage broke a wheel while she was passing through the outskirts of Cascade's industrial district, she used her considerable charm to entice the nearest strong men to help her. Charles Goslin was dispatched back to her parents' ranch to fetch a replacement wheel, while Goldar, who happened to chance upon the scene, was recruited to remove the damaged part.

Like any man of that era, the foreman of Zedd Ranch had changed carriage wheels numerous times, and was therefore surprised when this wheel refused to come off as it should. He could see some sort of soft looking ring inside the wheel, presumably providing a sort of cushion for it, but had no idea how something so small and soft was making it impossible to pry the wheel off. The numerous spectators were beginning to enjoy Goldar's discomfort (albeit in a very quiet manner), when Blair happened upon the scene.

His attention caught by the crowd's air of amused expectation, but his focus quickly shifted to the pretty young woman and the fancy rig he'd been discussing with the local blacksmith, Francis Bulkmeyer. Remembering that conversation, and a newspaper article he'd read, made him realize that Goldar would never be successful trying to remove the damaged wheel the way he was trying to.

"Hi, Miss Beauchamp, you seem to have run into some trouble here," Sandburg commented casually to the elegant young woman, tipping his non-existent hat with a wide smile.

"Yes, but Mr. Goldar assures me he has the situation well in hand. And Mr. Goslin will be back momentarily with the new wheel. Though it does seem my Good Samaritan is having some trouble getting that wheel off," she replied with an airy wave of one delicate hand.

"Well, there is a secret to it," Blair admitted, not thinking about how it would sound to Goldar.

"Oh? You happen to know this secret?" she countered in a voice barely above a whisper, which was a calculated maneuver to ensure the listener gave her their fullest attention.

"I...I think so. I read it in a newspaper a while back," the young man admitted with a self-conscious blush, unused to a woman of Eve's social standing noticing him.

"Maybe you could help, then. You don't mind, do you Mr. Goldar?" she asked sweetly, ignoring the quick scowl that crossed the larger man's face.

"Of course not, Miss Beauchamp. If the little fella here thinks he can help, I'll be happy to let him try," was the not quite gracious response.

Deciding to ignore Goldar's attitude, Blair squatted down and got behind the wheel, releasing a pin that held the wheel in place against the 'cushion'. Pulling the wheel in toward him, he got it off of the rubber cushion, allowing him to work the stubborn padding off the shaft, followed closely - and easily - by the damaged wheel. It looked simple enough for a child to accomplish, provided one knew HOW to do it, and quite without meaning to Sandburg had managed to make Goldar look more than a little foolish in front of his associates.

Any reaction Goldar might have been inclined to indulge in was interrupted by the arrival of Charles Goslin with the replacement wheel. The kind natured ranch hand willingly helped Blair finish the repairs, the younger man deftly replacing the rubber pad that had defeated Goldar earlier. Sandburg's speed and efficiency did nothing to improve the larger man's sense of wounded pride at being shown up by a short, bookish, four-eyed nobody. Only Eve's gentle presence prevented Goldar from exacting retribution for the perceived insult immediately, a fact that didn't completely escape the young woman.

"Oh, well done, Mr. Sandburg!" she cooed, clapping her glove clad hands approvingly.

"Thank you, Miss Beauchamp, but honestly, it's not that difficult once you understand how the rubber pad works. It's designed to provide a smoother, easier ride, or so they say. Does it actually work?" the former scholar asked with genuine curiosity.

"I have to admit I've not given it much thought," she confessed with a smile. "Perhaps you can join me for a ride one day and give me your opinion on the matter?"

"It would be my pleasure. I've read arguments for and against some of the new wagon designs, but haven't had a chance to experience any," the slightly flustered young man confessed.

"Why don't you come out to our place this Saturday, say at eleven? We can go on a picnic," she invited, holding out her hand to seal the deal.

"I'll see you then," Blair promised, kissing the proffered hand gallantly and bowing. "But for now, Jim is going to think I got lost, so if you'll forgive me, I must take my leave." He gave her the full Sandburg smile before turning and quickly striding away, carefully not looking at Goldar or any of his cronies. He gave a soft moan, along with a prayer that he wouldn't cross paths with the Zedd's foreman anytime in the near future, when he heard Eve speaking again behind him.

"Now, Mr. Goldar, what can I offer you for your kind, if ineffectual, assistance?"

~*~

Thaddeus Finster was a small man, barely over five feet tall, with prematurely white hair and pinched, almost rodent-like features. His looks were not improved by his square framed glasses or prominent front teeth, nor by his tendency to rather 'scuttle' about. A lifetime of being picked on, by childhood bullies, his father, then later his employers and/or coworkers had left him with a nervous stutter that belied his intelligence.

For, despite appearances, Thaddeus had a brilliant mind for science, especially chemistry, which the Zedds had found numerous uses for since they first 'rescued' Finster from a gang of townspeople who were amusing themselves by abusing the little man. As it turned out, he simply traded one kind of abuse for another, but was too unaware to notice this. His 'saviors' belittled and used him; he served as their cook and butler, and in his spare time experimented with various chemicals and plants, designing poisons and potions for them on demand. For this he received food, a small room, and an occasional bit of praise when the Zedds were in good spirits.

He was happier than he'd ever been in his life, and was devoted to Gaylord and Rita Zedd.

The Zedds had requested he formulate a poison that could be dissolved in a water hole, would kill cattle and any other creature who drank the water, but that could be neutralized later, leaving the waterhole safe again. They'd planned to use it on the Kaplans if necessary, but they'd folded and moved on before that was required, which pleased Zedd no end. It was always best to use different methods each time he drove someone to move, and he figured that Ellison would be pretty easy to scare off, given all the kids that would be put in peril.

"Finster! Did you forget to bake the peach pie I requested?" Rita Zedd's voice was reminiscent of fingernails on a chalkboard, but to Finster it was music to his soul.

"Of course not, my Queen, " he replied, using the title Rita enjoyed so.

"Good. And it had better be up to my standards this time," she ordered, sweeping out of the kitchen. "You don't want a repeat of last time."

She went into the library, intending to read the newest catalogs from back East and indulge in her favorite pastime of spending Gaylord's money. Her progress was stopped by the angry voices from her husband's study, and curious, she went on in without knocking.

"When I send you on an errand to town I do NOT expect you to spend your time in useless flirtation with a child who wouldn't give you a second glance," Zedd growled out at Goldar, who stood fuming in front of him.

"If you want to preserve your reputation of being good citizens of Cascade, it is necessary for us, as your employees, to do 'good deeds'," the foreman explained tightly.

"Fine, fine. Do good deeds, if it doesn't interfere with your job. But, I don't think getting revenge on Sandburg is going to be classified as a good deed," was the sarcastic reply from his angry boss.

"He made me look a fool!" Goldar all but shouted.

"Like that's so difficult to do," Rita snorted in disdain.

Gaylord shot his wife a warning look before turning again to his employee. "Which he couldn't have done if you'd done what you were told to and not tried to impress a hollow headed girl."

"He is going to pay!"

"You are not going to lay one finger on Blair Sandburg," Zedd said dangerously. "We are close to our goal, and if you stir up trouble now all our efforts could be for nothing. AFTER we have driven Ellison out, then you can do whatever you want to Sandburg. Hell, I'll give him to you as a gift if you want, but for now you will KEEP AWAY FROM HIM. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," the younger man ground out, tipping his hat at Rita before stalking out of the study.

"*I* won't lay a hand on him."

~*~

Bill Bright was not exactly what his name would imply, but the young man WAS a dedicated toady with dreams of grand rewards in time for his loyalty. Unfortunately, he chose to ally himself with Goldar, impressed with the big man's aura of toughness and menace. Goldar was everything young Bright dreamed of becoming.

So when he got wind of the fact that Blair Sandburg had humiliated his hero, in public...in front of a young LADY...Bill was beyond angry. Then he realized it was the perfect chance to raise his stock in his boss's eyes, and took it upon himself to teach Sandburg it wasn't nice to make someone as powerful as Goldar look stupid.

Having learned early in life that a good ambush could compensate for the fact he wasn't particularly strong or large, Bright selected a secluded spot along the route to town and waited for his unwitting prey. It took three days for their paths to finally cross, but Bright's patience was rewarded when his first swing, with a large piece of wood, took the former anthropology student down hard and fast. Only Blair's quick reflexes kept that first blow from being fatal, as his lightning fast reaction had resulted in the blow glancing off his head instead of hitting it full on. Still, he fell from his horse dazed and disoriented, blood streaming from the wound on his scalp.

Leaping from his mount, Bright rushed up to the fallen man, delivering a pair of vicious kicks to Sandburg's vulnerable ribs. Blair rolled away desperately, managing to stagger to his feet, mostly due to the adrenalin rush. Seeing the wild eyed young man stalking him with a arm-thick chunk of wood and a cruel smirk twisting his lips, Sandburg did the only thing he could think of under the circumstances.

"Jim! Help! Jim!" he shouted as loudly as he could, given his injured ribs made breathing in difficult.

"He can't hear you way out here, you're just wasting your breath," Bill taunted him, suddenly swinging his stick in a tight arch that connected with Blair's uninjured side, bringing him almost to his knees again.

Sandburg kept his footing with difficulty, managing to stagger away while desperately looking for something to defend himself with, cursing his tendency to not carry a gun. Bright stalked him with malicious good cheer, realizing his prey was fairly defenseless now, Bill decided to have some fun.

"You're all alone, nothing to distract you from thinking about how you shouldn't show up your betters. Can't believe no one's taught you this lesson before. Maybe you're just stupid and forgot, huh?" the younger man asked, jabbing Blair in the abdomen with the stick, despite Sandburg's attempt to deflect it. That blow managed to knock Blair down again, and Bright moved in quickly, striking a wicked blow to the downed man's hip, and then another that was aimed for his ribs smashed into his forearm instead.

"Learning anything yet?" Another jab, this one catching Blair in the chest as he attempted to rise and knocking him flat again. "Huh? Leaning?"

"I think the lesson is just about to start," came a cold and deadly voice from behind Bright. The young man whirled to find a furious Jim Ellison standing behind him, his stance deceptively calm and relaxed.

"You want some of this? Then step on up!" Heady with the power rush he'd gotten from beating a virtually defenseless man, Bright didn't realize the very real danger he faced in the Sentinel whose protective instincts were fully aroused. He took a swing at Ellison as the big man lunged forward, surprised when the blow was skillfully deflected and the stick knocked from his suddenly nerveless hand. His eyes widened in shock as he finally recognized the very real peril he faced.

There was no conscious thought in the Sentinel's mind, just the instinctive drive to protect his Guide, regardless the danger. Picking up the piece of wood that had been used on Sandburg, Ellison towered over Bright, all but feeding on the fear pouring off the younger man. At some primal level he'd understood that Bright had intended to kill Blair; at that level Jim felt justified in defending his Guide to that same end. He raised his weapon for the first blow when a desperate voice cut through the haze of fury in his mind.

"Jim! Jim, no! Stop!" Blair called desperately to his friend; he'd seen the look in the big man's eyes and understood Ellison was not completely in charge at the moment. He nearly wept with relief when Jim paused in his attack and looked at him with an oddly puzzled look.

"Jim, this is what Simon is for. You can't just take justice in your own hands, you know that. We've been trying to teach the kids not to respond to violence with violence, and it can't just be words. You have to SHOW them the right way to behave. You know that!" he pleaded desperately, understanding he'd only have this one chance to dissuade his Sentinel from the kill.

Jim locked eyes with his best friend, then gave a sigh of exasperation, acknowledging he was right. Bill Bright seemed to understand he was being let off the hook, and made a desperate scramble to escape, only to have Ellison smash him upside the head with the piece of wood, sending him into unconsciousness.

"Tried to escape, Chief. You saw that." Jim snorted, dismissing Bright and turning his attention back on Blair. "Let's take a look at you here. Damn, we need to get you to the doc. Think you can ride?"

"Sure, Big Guy. But, I'd rather just go home, really. There's nothing the doc can really do, except tell me I've got a lot of bruises, and riding all the way into town then back home again doesn't sound like fun, you know?" Blair protested quietly, looking up at his friend pleadingly as Ellison used his Sentinel senses to check over his Guide.

"Okay, I'll take you home, but I'm bringing the doc back by after I turn this trash over to Simon. You arm is broken, and your ribs need to be wrapped, so no arguments, Junior."

"No arguments, Jim. Thanks for the rescue, by the way. Your timing was excellent," Blair said quietly as he hunched over awkwardly in the saddle.

"If my timing was 'excellent' he wouldn't have gotten any blows at all. Wonder what the hell he thought he was doing?" the Sentinel pondered as he secured his prisoner and mounted his own horse.

"Guess he's getting revenge for the Zedd's foreman, Goldar. You remember I told you about the wagon incident? I really would have expected him to deal with it himself, though, you know? Wonder why he sent this guy?"

"No idea, Chief. But I'm sure Simon can get to the bottom of it. Come on, let's get you back home, let Hannah help you 'til the doc can get there."

The ride home was uncomfortable in the extreme for Sandburg, he was pale and sweating by the time they reached the ranch, and Hannah nearly had a fit when she saw him. Glad the children were all in school, she hustled him into the sickroom and started cleaning his head wound before he'd even had a chance to explain what had happened. Leaving the younger man in the kind woman's capable hands, Jim took the newly conscious and thoroughly furious Bright into town to turn over to Sheriff Simon Banks.

Goldar, backed by the Zedds and Bill Bright himself, professed his innocence regarding Bright's attack on Blair, who did indeed suffer a broken arm as well as four cracked ribs in the incident. Within a couple of days Bill was sentenced to a month in prison for the assault, and sent to Seattle to serve his time, knowing he was lucky Ellison hadn't killed him for what he'd done.

Though both Simon and Jim had doubts about Goldar's innocence, they had no evidence to the contrary, and were forced to let their suspicions go for the time being.

~*~

"Hey, Stupid, move! You're in our way!" Bulk growled, shoving Billy roughly off the path behind the schoolhouse. The smaller boy stumbled on the uneven ground and fell, prompting the larger youth to follow up and plant a painful kick in his backside as he struggled to rise.

"Yeah, move Stupid!" Skull echoed, adding his irritating, braying laugh as Billy fell forward with a pained grunt, a stick digging painfully along his side. Satisfied for the moment, they continued on, leaving their smaller victim to get slowly to his feet.

The two boys, Farcus Bulkmeyer and Eugene Skullavich, were the school bullies, fond of picking on the smaller kids who couldn't defend themselves. Until recently they'd been without a chosen victim, since the Stevens family had left, taking their young son with them. Peter Stevens had been a pudgy boy with red hair and glasses, shy and afraid of his own shadow. The two bullies had made his life a living hell, made only worse by their skill at timing their attacks so there were no witnesses, thereby usually avoiding punishment, protected by the childhood code of silence.

But since Billy had joined the Ellison clan, they'd found a new victim; the perfect victim, actually. Not only was the new boy smaller and easy to pick on, he had no defensive skills, AND he was mute, so his tattling on them wasn't possible. They did learn to take care not to bother him when Jason was around, or any of the other of their bunch, but if he was out alone, he was fair game.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Billy jumped at the unexpected voice, and turned to find Tommy standing there looking at him worriedly.

"I saw what they did. Are you okay?" he reiterated.

Billy nodded slowly, rubbing his hands down the sides of his legs to remove the twigs and pebbles from his tumble. He started to brush off his shirt, then stopped, wincing in pain.

"What is it? Let me see," the half Indian youth offered, stepping closer to the other boy, ignoring how Billy flinched back from him.

Fixing the other boy with a worried look, Billy pulled up his shirt to expose a nasty looking scrape parallel with the ribs on his right side, a dark bruise already discoloring the swelling flesh.
 

"I think maybe you should have Hannah look at this," Tommy said, frowning.

The smaller boy backed away from him, shaking his head emphatically and holding a finger to his lips in the well-recognized symbol for silence. Tommy couldn't even pretend to not understand.

"Why not? Billy, you're hurt," the other boy protested, then stopped to consider his companion. "Okay, I think I get it. I'll keep quiet, but if it gets bad, you let me know, okay? Come on, everyone's about to head on home, we don't want to be late." He knew he'd made the right decision when the new boy relaxed and gave him his slightly crooked smile.

The next day was Saturday, which meant no school and plenty of free time to play once the chores were done. Tommy finished his portion of the chores quickly, then sought out Billy, who was alone in the barn cleaning stalls.

"Hey, Billy, I've been thinking. You know, when I was with the tribe, older kids used to pick on me, cause my dad was white. And this one boy, he was the son of the tribe medicine man, who was very wise, he felt sorry for me because I was always getting beat up. So he taught me how to defend myself when bigger boys attacked me, and I was thinking I could teach you if you want. So next time Bulk and Skull give you a hard time, maybe you can give them some back. You want to try?" He'd spent the night debating trying to teach the other boy how to fight, knowing Jim and Blair wouldn't approve. But, Billy was hiding his injuries now, afraid to let the adults see, afraid to let the other kids - especially Jason - see, knowing they'd be upset, and he was probably a little ashamed that he was losing the fights as well. Maybe if Billy struck back Bulk and Skull would back off, let him alone.

Tommy was a keen observer in is own right, he might not know the terms for things like Blair did, but he understood how life worked, how people reacted and related, almost instinctively. He'd seen the look in Billy's eyes when he looked at Jason, the look of near idolization in the green orbs. He'd seen Jason's gentleness in dealing with the timid smaller boy, and his fierceness in defending him. He'd noticed that Billy had become their protectee, the 'little brother' to all of them. That seemed normal enough for any new kid, but Tommy suspected Billy would remain the little brother permanently. At any rate, Tommy had seen the scars Billy was carrying, knew the blond had suffered the same kind of treatment he'd suffered a few years before, and felt an odd kinship to the silent youth. At first he'd resented Jim and Blair bringing home a new kid, feared his place was being taken, but those feelings had passed, and now he felt a strong desire to help the 'new boy', as he'd been helped not that long ago.

At the blond's shy nod, Tommy smiled clapped him on the back. "Good choice. Why don't you put the rake down, and I'll show you a couple right now, okay?"

Soon the two boys were engrossed in their project, having quickly discovered the most effective method was for Billy to first 'attack' Tommy, who would demonstrate the move he wanted to teach Billy, then Tommy would go on the offensive, talking his student through the defense, doing it several times, getting progressively more aggressive, until Billy had the move down. They were both having a good time, their lessons stopped frequently by bouts of laughter, however silent, and their eyes shone with spirit and humor.

"Okay, you've almost got this one down. I'm going to come in a little harder this time, and hold on tighter. You give it all you've got, okay?"

True to his word, Tommy grabbed Billy from behind tightly, striving to throw the smaller boy down, while Billy countered his move with surprising efficiency. It was at that moment that Jason came to the door and spied the other two boys, immediately jumping to the most logical, however wrong, conclusion.

"Let him go!" the dark haired boy shouted, running up behind Tommy and wrenching him from Billy, effectively throwing them all off balance. With the instincts of a fighter and a natural athlete, Tommy recovered quickly and countered Jason's attack, engaging the stronger boy in an all out fistfight.

Billy looked at the two battling youths and promptly tried to separate them, making an odd grunting sound as he fought to stop the fight he realized had started because of an honest mistake. He wasn't making any headway, given the fact the other two boys both had hot tempers that were fully enflamed at the moment, and was only getting hit with the occasional stray punch when Jim arrived on the scene.

The Sentinel had been in a consistently poor mood ever since Blair had been attacked four days before, and the sight of his two most difficult charges fighting was not likely to improve matters. With an angry shout he reached in and grabbed the two combatants by the scruff of their necks, separating them and shaking them both roughly.

"That does it! You two have just earned the whupping of your lives! You won't sit down for a week! There is no excuse for this..." his angry tirade was cut off by the sound of a rising cry, which effectively got all their attention.

"Noooo!" Billy screamed, launching himself at Jim in a flurry of small fists and awkward kicks. "Don't hurt him! Don't you hurt him! Don't hurt him! Don't hurt me!"

Jim released the other two boys and grabbed the distraught child in front of him, pulling him in close to contain the still flaying arms and legs, all the while trying to break through his hysteria. Billy bucked and twisted in his grasp, fighting desperately to escape some terror only he could see, a past horror still trapped in his mind by his inability to speak it free. Finally managing a grip that held the small body firmly but without hurting him, Jim raised his voice over Billy's barely coherent cries and spoke to Jason and Tommy.

"You two get yourselves to the woodshed and wait for me. And so help me, if I find you two fighting in there you may never sit down again. Am I understood?" He wasn't shouting, but the intensity of his voice coupled with the barely contained fury in his eyes got both boys moving without delay, despite their shock at their formerly placid friend's explosion.

Seeing the other children had been attracted by the commotion he glanced over at them wearily. "Go on, guys, get back to whatever you were doing. It's okay; it's under control. Go on," he encouraged them, sensing their unease but unable to address that now. The whirling dervish in his arms was finally starting to wind down, though the tears were showing no sign of abating. Shifting the slight body to a more comfortable hold, the tall man strode quickly toward the entrance, intent on taking his overwrought charge to the house, wishing Blair was there to help since the younger man was usually more successful in calming upset children.

Hannah met him at the front door with a worried frown, but Jim shook his head meaningfully before moving on into the sickroom. That would serve as a neutral place for Billy to recover his emotional equilibrium, comfortably familiar but not someplace he was every day. Though the little boy was no longer struggling against Jim, he was still crying and the still too-thin body was wracked with tremors, which worried the Sentinel with their intensity.

"Billy. Billy, come on Son, calm down. It's okay, you're safe, no one is going to be hurt. You're okay; you're safe. Shhhh, shhhh..." he crooned softly, rocking the child in his arms as he tried to calm the emotional storm. The combination of comforting words and the soothing motion of Jim rubbing his back finally got the boy calmed enough to speak coherently. Taking advantage of the apparent breakthrough in the child's silence, Jim began questioning him gently, easing the story from him with care and patience. With frequent pauses, and more than a few tears, Billy told the story of how his father was accused of killing children and was stoned to death in a small town in Oregon, unaware that Jim already knew that part of the tale.

The youngster needed to tell his side of the story, and someone needed to hear it, and Jim was willing to do whatever was needed to help Billy recover from his experiences. Using the plain language of childhood, the story poured out of him, the grim narrative somehow made worse when told in the soft, high tones of a child. He'd spoke of his father's death, and his own frantic exodus from Nordwick, and being captured by the two men who'd taken such delight in torturing him. It was at this point Blair joined them, a glass of cool water in one hand and a worried frown creasing his brow.

"How's it going in here?" he queried gently, taking in Jim's sorrowful eyes and the limp looking child who's soft voice he'd interrupted.

"Okay. Billy was telling me about how he ended up with Paddy and Tate, the two men we rescued him from. Go on, what did they make you do?" Jim asked gently, his hand still rubbing comfortingly along the boy's back and arms as he cuddled him close.

"I had to trick the sheriffs into following me to their ambush," the whisper soft voice replied, sounding thick and moist from the tears that still fell sporadically. "Then Paddy would knock them out and steal the keys to the bank, which the sheriff almost always carried. They'd rob the bank and ride out of town before anyone even knew what was happening. Then they'd celebrate."

"And that's when they'd hurt you," Jim concluded, giving his charge a comforting hug. "How'd you get the sheriffs to follow you?"

"At first I'd tell them I saw someone in whatever building it was that they had chosen to ambush him in," the boy explained softly. "Later, I'd just use gestures to get them to follow me."

"You were still talking when you were first with them?" Blair asked with a meaningful look at Jim. At Billy's nod he continued. "Why did you stop talking? What happened?"

At the question Billy's green eyes again filled with tears and Jim could feel the trembling return with startling intensity. Increasing his efforts at offering comfort he spoke with gentle conviction to the young victim in his arms. "It's okay, Billy. You can tell us, you're safe here. No one can hurt you again, they're never coming back after you. I promise, they can't ever hurt you again. It's okay to tell now."

The sadly aged eyes in the child's face searched Ellison's pale blue ones, seeking something only he would be able to identify. Apparently finding what he needed, the soft voice continued at last.

"They told me I could never tell anyone what they were doing. What they'd done, where they went, their names, anything. That I was theirs, and I could never get free, and if I tried to escape, or get someone to help me, they'd be sorry. That I'd be sorry. But..." he paused, unable to continue.

"Someone tried to help you, didn't they?" Jim asked in a whisper, hearing the child's heartbeat nearly double in his distress.

"Yes," was the nearly inaudible reply.

"What happened?" Ellison prompted him, hating the fact he had to hurt Billy any more than he'd already been hurt.

"They killed him. It was my fault, they said it was my fault, for telling him about them. I shouldn't have done it, I should have kept quiet. If I had he wouldn't have died, they slit his throat, and the blood was everywhere and they made me put my hands in it, it was on my hands and it was my fault because I talked and I shouldn't have...I ...I...I....k....k" the boy's voice had gotten progressively faster before it dissolved completely as the tears returned in full force, robbing him of speech and breath.

"Oh, God, no, Billy. It wasn't your fault, it was never your fault," Jim told him with quiet passion as he held the shuddering body tight to him. "It was THEIR fault, and only their fault. You did nothing wrong, nothing. It's okay, let all that out, this pain shouldn't have been yours to bear."

Blair added his own words to Jims, his hands mirroring Jim's, trying to surround the wounded young soul with as much comfort and support as they could, wishing they could spare him the pain of these memories yet proud he'd found the strength to face them. Exhaustion finally brought the tears to an end, and the slender body relaxed completely into the Sentinel's strong arms.

Standing carefully, Jim gently deposited the slumbering youth on the bed, spreading a cheerful quilt over him against the fall chill. Placing the glass of water on the small table beside the bed, and caressing the young cheek one last time, Ellison herded his Guide out of the sickroom, pulling the door closed quietly behind him.

"It's amazing he was able to get that out, Jim," Blair noted, shaking his head in mild wonder. "It's what he needed to do, no matter how hard it was. Are YOU okay?" Ellison's tough guy image didn't impress Sandburg in the least, he knew full well how sensitive the big guy really was.

"Fine, Chief. I'm just sorry they got such clean deaths. If I'd known what they'd done..." his voice trailed off into a sigh.

"The most important thing is that they can never come back and threaten him again. At the time I was sorry Billy saw them killed, but now I'm glad he knows for certain they're dead. But what was this? The kids said Billy attacked you? What happened to start this?" the younger man asked, his right hand unconsciously massaging the cast on his broken left arm.

"I was breaking up a fight between Jason and Tommy...which reminds me; I still have them to deal with. I'm about at my wit's end with those two. Why don't you sit down and rest for a while, the doc said you're supposed to take it easy. I'll tell you about it after I deal with our two junior thugs," Jim said with a rueful smile for Blair's sake.

"Remember, Jim, they're just kids," Sandburg reminded him quietly.

"Yeah, I know. And kids that haven't had the easiest of lives. I know. But they're also kids who are likely to grow into physically strong men who will need to be able to control their tempers. I'll be damned if I want to see either of them in jail because they thought their fists were the answers to any problems they have. They're going to learn Chief. If they have to spend the rest of their childhoods in the woodshed, they'll learn," the Sentinel declared, taking a deep breath before striding toward the small shed where they stored their firewood, and where discipline for the boys was usually dispensed.

As he approached he instinctively reached out with his hearing, stopping when he heard the calm voices of the two boys who up to now had barely been able to pass a civil word with each other.

"So you weren't trying to beat him up?" Jason asked.

"Of course not. Why would I want to beat Billy up? He's smaller than I am, he doesn't have anything I'd want to steal, he's a nice kid, and he's probably been beaten up enough." Tommy sounded mildly scornful.

"But you attacked him."

"I TOLD you, Jason. I was pretending to attack him so he could learn how to defend himself. I thought maybe he'd feel better if he knew how to protect himself from the bullies that are always picking on him."

"But I can protect him from Bulk and Skull." A slight touch of anger colored Jason's voice, though not nearly as much as Tommy usually evoked.

"Not all the time you can't; you aren't always there. You can't be with him everywhere, and even if you could, I don't think he'd like it. He needs to be able to stand up for himself, so he won't be afraid to be by himself if he has to be. I know what it's like to be afraid, and learning to fight back helped me be not as scared." Jim could tell Tommy was searching for a way to say what he understood, but didn't have the vocabulary to express. His earlier ire with the two boys was forgotten as he listened to their conversation, as they unconsciously began a tentative friendship under what had to be the worst conditions a ten year old could imagine.

"But if he starts hitting back, if he's not any good, won't it just make the bullies beat him up more?" Jason wondered.

"I guess maybe. But right now I think he's afraid of letting anyone know when he gets hurt, because then you get into it with Bulk, and then get in trouble. And I think he's shamed, because he couldn't take care of himself." Tommy's tone indicated he was still feeling his way along, not trying to convince Jason as much as figure out the other boy's behavior.

"What do you mean he won't tell us?" Jason asked, his question hiding the sound of the door the Jim had opened.

"I would like to hear this as well," Jim stated, stepping into the small building.

"Is Billy okay?" Jason asked anxiously, as Tommy stepped up beside him, the same question in his dark brown eyes.

Ellison's expression softened at the twin worried looks being sent his way, and laid his hands gently on both boys' shoulders.

"He's fine. Well, he will be fine," he assured them.

"What happened? I never expected him to go wild like that," Jason asked with a frown.

"A lot of very bad memories kind of caught up with him all at once, I guess. But, now I'm wondering what this is you were saying about Billy not telling us when he's hurt," the Sentinel asked Tommy with a stern look.

Tommy quickly explained what he'd seen the day before, and how it had led him to offer to teach Billy some self defense moves, what Jason had wandered in on when he came to the barn and how the fight started. Jim had to admit there was a lot of sense behind what Tommy had proposed, he could understand how the two boys had ended up in a fight based purely on a misunderstanding.

Their story out in the open now, the two young miscreants waited unhappily for judgment from the big man who sat studying them with a grim expression.

"Jason, what did you do wrong here?" he queried at last.

"I acted before I really knew what was happening," he said after a moment's reflection.

"What should you have done differently?"

This required more thought, but finally the deep brown eyes looked up at Jim and the dark haired boy answered. "I should have pulled Tommy away, but not started hitting him. Just stopped the 'fight' then found out what was really happening?"

"Exactly. Tommy, what did you do wrong?"

"I fought back, even though I knew Jason didn't understand." The answer had come more quickly to Tommy.

"And what should you have done differently?"

"Not fought back, back away until I could explain, I guess."

"Right as well. So, it's obvious this fight could have been avoided, by both of you. And you both know the rules about fighting. This time you're getting a double punishment. When we're finished in here, you two will work together and spread that pile of manure over the garden patch. This means you're going to have to first pull all the dead plants and weeds, loosen the soil, then spread the manure as a covering for the coming winter. I don't care how you do it, you can work that out between yourselves, but I expect it to be finished by tomorrow night, just in time for your Sunday baths. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Yes, Sir."

Jim sighed and stood, removing the well-worn paddle from the hook by the door. "Okay, let's get this over with..."

~*~

"So you really think this will work? Or should I be expecting to see a battle break out over there?" Blair asked Jim as they relaxed on the front porch relaxing and watching Tommy and Jason working in the garden. Further out they could see the rest of the children playing a spirited game of hide and seek around the barn and outbuildings. They'd been discussing the situation between Jason and Tommy, and Billy's emotional breakthrough, surprised at how much had happened already and the day wasn't even half over yet.

"I hope so. You're the one who kept saying they'll make great friends if they ever get past hating each other. Maybe this is their turning point. God knows I hope so." Jim leaned back in his seat as if exhausted, eliciting a grin from his companion.

"It has been an eventful day already, hasn't it? But if it sees the end of the battles between Tommy and Jason, and sees Billy talking again, then it's been worth it," Blair agreed. "And Tommy's idea really does have some merit, we should think about that. In fact, I may even have an idea all the children can use."

"Oh? And what idea would that be?"

"Let me look into it first, then I'll let you know. No sense in making you think I'm crazy unless the idea is likely to pan out," Blair decided.

"And you don't think I already think you're crazy?" the Sentinel teased his Guide, grinning at the smaller man's bemused expression.

"Jim, you just don't understand genius."

"Speaking of which, looks like we have some company," Jim grinned, shifting his gaze to the front door where Billy stood looking a bit pale and rumpled. "You okay?" he asked gently.

The small boy just nodded, then stepped up closer to the big man, finally looking up to meet the kind blue eyes directly. "I'm sorry for hitting you," he said in a voice that wasn't quite steady.

"Well, that is one of the biggest rules we have around here, and I think you know that. But something tells me you weren't really in control this morning, were you? Do you know what happened? It seemed to start when I said I was going to give them a whupping," Ellison said, watching the little boy's reactions closely. At the word 'whupping' the young heart picked up speed, and fear shone in the green eyes.

"They used to say that," he whispered.

"Paddy and Tate?"

"Yeah. Then they'd hurt me. It was always a whupping," he sighed.

Jim understood now what had set off the youngster. Already caught up in violent emotions he must have flashed back to the nightmare he'd endured before when he heard Jim use that word, and had tried to protect his new friend from a fate he'd endured far too often. The Sentinel reminded himself that Billy still didn't know them well enough to be totally comfortable, though he hoped the catharsis of this day would help.

"Just try to remember, around here a 'whupping' is nothing like what those monsters did, understand? Look over there at Jason and Tommy. They were punished a little while ago, and they're fine, aren't they?" Ellison asked, pointing out the other two boys who were laughing over something they'd found in the garden.

Billy looked over at his new friends and smiled a little. "Yeah."

"And speaking of being fine, let me see your side, where you got hurt yesterday," the Sentinel requested.

Surprised and flushing slightly, he lifted up his shirt to show the adults the swollen, bruised scrape along his side, flinching a little when Jim ran Sentinel sensitive fingers over it. Jim was relieved to find only deep bruising, no sign of damage to the ribs, but still it looked painful and he was less than thrilled that Billy had tried to keep it a secret.

"Looks like you'll live. But I don't want you trying to hide injuries like this. If you get hurt you have to tell us, okay? Sometimes serious injuries don't seem that bad at first, but if they aren't treated it can be dangerous. I want you to give me your word on this, Billy."

"I promise," the blond replied, holding out his hand to shake.

"Okay, then. Why don't you go on and join the others playing? Jason and Tommy are still being punished, so you can't help them there, but you can stop by and let them know you're okay," Jim seemed to realize the youngster had had enough turmoil for one day and needed to have some normalcy. But after shaking the proffered hand he pulled the slight body in for a quick hug before releasing the boy to his Saturday afternoon play.

Watching the youth hurry away Blair chuckled a little and turned to his best friend. "Who'd have thought that the catalyst for Billy to start talking would be attacking you?" he grinned.

"Yeah. You should have seen him; I've never seen a kid throw himself at someone like that. Talk about being determined to protect his friend!" Jim agreed.

"You know, Jim. I don't think that was a case of a little boy protecting his friend," Sandburg said seriously.

"Oh? And just what do you think it was, Chief?"

"To me it sounds more like a Guide protecting his Sentinel."