Notes, Timelines, etc. Yep, I'm nuts. This is a crossover, major AU for The Sentinel and Power Rangers, with brief visits from Here Come The Brides and The Young Riders. Despite the unconventional combination of fandoms, this is not intended as a parody or humor piece. I was raised watching westerns, but none of them seem to have much of a fanficiton following, and frankly, I just really LIKE the two fandoms that make up the core of this. Only the characters' names, basic personalities and physical likenesses are used from Power Rangers, no other aspects of the series. The concept of 'Sentinels' and 'Guides' are used from The Sentinel, and other characters from the series will be worked in as needed. As for Here Come the Bride and the Young Riders, for them this isn't even an AU. <g> There are a number of 'flashbacks' in this story, they are in italics (if I did the html correctly at least) and set apart by ** at the beginning and end. They should be obvious.

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.

Seattle, Washington, 1870

"Aaron said he'd meet us at his office around noon, right?" Blair asked as he and his friend and Sentinel, Jim Ellison, rode their horses along the deeply rutted road through the thick forest.

"Yep," the older man replied, his sharp eyes scanning the forest for signs of danger. Aaron Stempel had been a friend of his for twenty years, since their first chance meeting in San Francisco. With time and money to spare, the two young men had spent a glorious two weeks blowing off steam in the bustling young city, before parting ways; Aaron to return to Seattle to work in the booming timber business, Jim to take his chances in the great 'gold rush'. It was somehow quietly ironic that Aaron's path had led to relative 'riches', while Jim's path had led to a small farm, Blair, Hannah, and ten orphans to raise while living mostly hand to mouth on the proceeds from their crops and occasional odd jobs.

And Jim privately figured he was the one who got the better deal.

"Did he say he might have some information about Rocky's family?" Blair persisted, his hopeful look generating a sigh from his companion.

"He didn't mention it, but we can always ask. Didn't give any details about the job, either, just that it would pay well. Which usually means it's dangerous. We'll know more soon enough," Jim explained again, understanding his companion's desire to find some solid information about the whereabouts of one of their charge's family.

The younger man opened his mouth to comment only to be cut off by his friend's raised hand. "Chief, hold that thought. We've got company," Jim hissed, tension apparent in his posture.

"Where?" Blair asked, Sentinel soft.

"Up ahead, on the road. Drop back a bit," Ellison instructed his companion.

Years of traveling and working together had resulted in their being completely in tune with each other and each able to depend on the other to do as asked to do in situations. Jim was the gunman between them; in unknown circumstances he took the lead, with Blair backing him up. Excess words were unnecessary at this point, both knew from long experience what was expected and required.

Stopping in what he deemed a defensible location, Jim stretched out his hearing to assure himself that only the riders he heard coming in front of him were in the area. Finding no other sounds to indicate other people about, he fixed his intense gaze on the road ahead just as four riders came around the bend. They were all obviously local lumbermen; the distinctive work clothes were unmistakable. A closer look revealed a pair of familiar faces, and without prompting Blair nudged his horse up beside Jim's, a smile already crossing his face.

"Josh! Jeremy! It's good to see you!" the young man called out as answering smiles graced the two youngest Bolt brothers' faces.

"Hey Blair! Jim. So are you who Aaron got to do the purchase? He said the buyers would be arriving today at noon," Josh commented, running a distracted hand through his white-blond hair.

"Well, he said he had a job for us, we don't know any details yet," Jim replied genially enough, while still maintaining a bit of cautious distance. He knew relations between Aaron and the Bolts were far better than they had been in the past, but his first loyalty remained with Aaron Stempel.

"It's probably that job, then, which makes us feel a lot better," the blond smiled, glancing at his younger brother. "Jason is still there with Aaron, ready when you are. We have a big shipment going out today, so we had to head back, but I'm glad we at least got to say 'hi'." Josh finished, reaching out to shake the Sentinel's hand.

A quick round of handshakes, then the two parties separated again, heading in opposite directions though the fragrant forest. At a quarter to twelve, Jim and Blair rode up to the hitching post outside Aaron Stempel's main office and tied their weary mounts to the wooden railing. Jim reached out to knock only to have the door open to reveal his old friend; hale, hearty, and smiling widely.

"Jim! It's good to see you!" The strong handshake was the precursor to a quick, hard hug as the two big, tough outdoorsmen gave hasty vent to their fondness for each other. "And Blair, you still hanging around with this loser?" he teased the smaller man, shaking the proffered hand heartily.

"What can I say? He pays well," Blair joked, grinning as he shook Jason Bolt's hand as well. With fresh cups of coffee in hand the four men settled around Aaron's gleaming desk to discuss why Ellison and Sandburg had been contacted.

"We had this idea for some modifications to the mills to speed up production," Jason began to explain, spreading out some paperwork over the desk as he spoke.

"'We' had this idea?" Jim queried, looking between the two former rivals curiously.

"Yes, Jim, 'we'," Aaron assured him. "I won't bore you with the details, but it involved a quantity of gin, a bit of a ruckus at Lottie's, and a long night in the local jail. The bottom line is that we had both been considering similar modifications, but couldn't solve a couple of nagging problems, until we worked together," he clarified.

"There's more than enough business for two successful lumber mills, and this way we split the cost AND the potential profit," the eldest Bolt brother added.

"So, where do we come into this?" Blair wondered.

"We drew up the plans, and sent them to a factory in California, who assured us they could develop the equipment. It's ready to go, but they want their money up front, and we have no way to know if they've done a good job or not. We need you to travel to Eugene to meet the train they're shipping it on. You would inspect the machinery, check that all seems right, and deliver payment. Then you'd take the shipment to Portland, and deliver it to Clancy, who'll bring it on to Seattle."

"Seems straight forward enough. What's the catch?" Jim asked with a wry look at his old friend.

"Not really a catch, Jim. We trust you and Blair to do a good job inspecting the stuff, we'll give you a full rundown on what is expected. And, of course, there is the matter of the money you'll be carrying to pay them. $3,000.00 cash."

Blair whistled appreciatively. "Not exactly pocket change."

"No. The loss of that money could be...cataclysmic," Stempel agreed.

"Our fee?" Ellison asked.

"Five percent. Payable upon delivery."

"Half paid up front, half upon delivery. We need supplies; we can get them on the way. Should something happen, your money will be returned," Jim countered, his tone making it obvious that this point was NOT up for discussion.

There was a tense moment while the two loggers considered the situation, then Aaron held out his right hand to Jim. "Deal."

Another round of handshakes settled the deal, and the two visitors spent the rest of the day being briefed on the equipment they were picking up, and collecting the funds they were to deliver four days hence. Despite the busy afternoon, Jim and Blair respectfully declined the invitation to spend the night, preferring to get underway immediately.

"So, you think something is fishy about this job?" Blair asked curiously once they were well out of the vicinity of Aaron's camp.

"Not especially, Chief. I just don't think it's a good idea to spend the night there, just in case. Too many people, too many sounds, too distracting. Out here alone, if someone approaches I have a chance of hearing them long before they're on us. You know all that," he concluded with a slightly puzzled frown.

"Yeah, I guess I just expected you to want to visit with Aaron more, talk about old times like you usually do," his companion noted.

"Not this time, Chief. He has his life, and it's a good one. For him. I have mine, and I'm more than content with that," the Sentinel noted quietly.

Blair considered his friend curiously, his quick mind and generous heart analyzing what his older friend had just said, and - more importantly - what he HADN'T said. "But?" he prompted.

"But nothing, Sandburg. Let it go."

"Is it because he's ended up so successful in business, and now you're hiring out to him, when you two had all those grand plans when you first met?" he prodded softly, knowing he'd hit the mark when his friend winced at his words.

"You don't pull you punches, huh, Chief?" the big man commented ruefully, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly. "Okay, yeah. I'd be happier if we were on more level financial ground. Happy now?" he grumbled, sounding a little less tense despite himself. Damned if the kid didn't know just how to get him to work out his feelings.

"Ecstatic," Sandburg replied dryly. "Besides, Jim, you have way more than he'll ever have. You're a Sentinel with your own tribe," the longhaired man grinned merrily. "It's a kinda short tribe, but it's a tribe nonetheless."

The Sentinel snorted out a burst of involuntary laughter. "Yeah, looks like they're all going to be more your size than mine. Well, maybe Tommy will shoot up, but he's the only one."

"You mean you don't expect you and Kimberly will see eye-to-eye when she's full grown?" was the teasing question.

"Not unless I'm kneeling," Jim snickered, thinking of the tiny girl who they'd taken in over a year before, following her mother's death. "But, you know, that's why it bothers me I can't earn a steady income. If we didn't take this job, how would we ever afford shoes for the kids for this winter? And food and supplies? I get a cold chill just thinking how bad it would be if we lost our crops to insects or something. I don't worry about me, or even you, if things go wrong, but the kids. They're so dependent on us..." he voice trailed off as he looked away, slightly embarrassed at his uncharacteristic display of emotions.

"Jim, you have to believe, they'll be fine, no matter what. You know the folks in Cascade would help out if there was a disaster. And the kids? Well, let's face it, they're survivors. Small they may be, but when it comes to tough, I'd put my money on them every time," the young man grinned.

"I'm sure Katherine would be thrilled to hear you describe her as 'tough'," Jim grinned, thinking of their oh-so-proper Australian-born charge.

"Heh, Jim, she's the toughest cookie of them all, don't let that sweet face fool you," Blair laughed, pleased to see his companion's eyes crinkle in amusement. "But, in all seriousness, I feel sorry for Aaron. He's alone in that grand new house of his, and his men can't be any sort of substitute for a family, even an adopted one."

"Yeah, I know you're right, Chief. I just see folks like him with more money than he really needs, and think of all the things I'd like to get the kids, and it's not that I begrudge him his wealth, I mean he's worked for it..." Ellison shrugged uncomfortably, then quirked a quick half-grin. "Okay, I do begrudge it."

"There you go, Jim! It's like Reverend Taggart said, 'and the truth shall set you free'!" he declared, moving his horse sideways to avoid Jim's swat with the ease of long practice.

"That does it, Junior, tonight it's your turn to cook."

It was four full days of travel to reach Eugene, where they were to meet the shipment and inspect it before taking it off the train and beginning the journey to Portland. Jim took care of renting a wagon and team of horses, while Blair met the representatives from the manufacturer and started the inspection. Intrigued by the new technology, the inspection ended up dragging on for several hours as Blair found he'd met his intellectual equal in the two young men who'd helped design the devices. By the time it had been declared satisfactory, loaded into the wagon, and paid for they found they would barely have time to get ten miles outside town before making camp for the night.

"I have to admit, Jim, I'm glad to be rid of that money. I can't believe we didn't have any trouble on the way," Blair sighed as they relaxed after dinner, sipping coffee and watching the small fire dance in the deepening shadows.

"Yeah, guess we don't look like the sort to be carrying that kind of money around," the older man agreed, shifting so he could add another piece of wood to the waning blaze.

"Gee, imagine that!" the smaller man grinned, tossing his dregs out before settling down on his bedroll. "Three days to Portland?"

"Yeah, should be. We meet Clancy in four, so we have a small margin for problems, though I expect that he'll be there earlier. I'm frankly more worried about someone being after this equipment than I was about the money. If it does what it's supposed to, this stuff could make someone a fortune over a few years. We can't leave it unattended, especially in a town or near a main road," the Sentinel stressed, not for the first time.

"No worry about that. The route you chose, we won't see civilization - and I use that term loosely at best - unntil day after tomorrow," his companion grumbled good-naturedly, settling himself comfortably.

"Night, Jim."

Sheriff Sam Parknoy was enjoying a peaceful early morning cup of coffee when his door burst open to reveal a young boy who appeared to be terrified, his clothes tattered and dirty.

"Whoa there, son. What's after you?" he asked, placing gently restraining hands on the small shoulders of the distraught child.

Frightened green eyes met his concerned gaze before flicking back to look out the door worriedly. One small, dirty hand patted lightly at the delicate throat, the simple gesture eloquent enough; the boy was mute.

"All right, all right. Can you show me what's wrong?" Sam requested in a gentle voice. He was a large man, but there wasn't a child or dog within a hundred mile radius that hadn't discerned the truth as soon as they met Sam; the man was a total softie.

A rapid nod and a quick grasp on the big hand, and the small boy was tugging the sheriff out the door and toward the side alley, gesturing frantically. The child stopped and indicated a doorway, his wide eyes looking up at Sam imploringly, making it clear that he was afraid of whatever was inside.

"You stay right here, okay, boy? I'll check this out. If folks have been hurting you, I'll make sure it stops. You don't need to be afraid." He opened the door cautiously, poking his head in to look around, completely vulnerable to the blow from above that dropped him down swiftly into darkness.

"Get back to the horses, kid," one of the two men who emerged from the door ordered, kicking out at the child as one might at an annoying stray dog. "You get the key, Earl?"

"Right here, Mike. Damn, like taking candy from a baby. Now, let's go get the cash and get the hell out of here."

"You think we're being followed?" Blair asked as Jim returned from yet another circuit of their camp. The day had passed very quietly, the horses plodding along in a pace that seemed incredibly slow, but ate the miles without seeming effort. They were right on schedule, figuring to hit Salem the next day, late morning or early afternoon. From that point on they would be following a well-traveled route, a situation that offered both increased danger and increased safety.

"I'm not certain. We could be. It's damned difficult to be certain if they don't talk, and so far I haven't heard any voices. A few snorts that sound like horses, but no voices. It could be Indians just checking us out, could be a family traveling, something innocent like that. Or it could be someone wanting this equipment. We'll just have to wait and see, Chief."

"In that case Jim, would you please do me a favor?" the young man asked calmly.

"Sure."

"Sit down!" Blair snapped, grinning a little at his friend's mildly shocked expression. "You're making me nervous, pacing around like that."

The big man gracefully lowered himself to a seated position, but there was nothing restful about his posture; to Blair he resembled nothing so much as a big cat ready to pounce on the next thing that moved.

"Oh, yeah, Jim, that's much better," he snorted softly, giving his companion a worried look. "Have you tried sending your hearing out to the maximum?" he queried.

"No, you've told me often enough not to do that without your help, and since the last time, when I zoned so badly, I've been a little uncomfortable trying," the Sentinel admitted.

His guide looked at him with mild annoyance and disapproval, even as he shifted to sit closer. "Jim, how many times have I told you that you need to tell me these things? Now, come on, this is actually the perfect chance. I want you to close your eyes and focus on your hearing, blocking out the meaningless sounds, and gradually dialing the sense up until it's at maximum. Do not attempt to use any of your other senses, and if you think you're losing control, stop. I'm right here, I won't let you zone. Now try it, gradually..." the soothing timbre of Sandburg's voice lulled Jim into a light trance-like state as he gathered his considerable mental discipline and sent out his hearing in search of possible danger on the back trail.

Though in his mind's eye he was reaching out toward the way they'd come, in truth his hearing was extending in all directions, so he was unprepared for the sudden scream that came, not from whence they came, but from south of them. The shrill shriek cut through the Sentinel's head like a knife, and he hastily dialed down his hearing even as he clapped his hands over his ears.

"What's wrong? What'd you hear?" Sandburg asked anxiously, shifting so he was kneeling in front of Ellison, rubbing his hands soothingly over the broad shoulders.

"You didn't hear it?"

"No, I haven't heard anything," Blair replied.

"A scream...a woman or a child, I couldn't tell which. Came from that way," the big man said, heaving himself to his feet and staggering a bit.

"Whoa, Jim, you okay?" Blair hastened to steady his friend, peering worriedly up into the pale face before him.

"Fine, Chief. Come on, whoever it was, they need help," the older man declared, picking up his saddle and walking briskly toward his mount despite the slight unsteadiness of his gait.

"We taking the wagon or leaving it here?"

"Leave it. I didn't hear anyone back there, nothing conclusive at least. If it gets taken, we'll track it..." Ellison started, then paused, looking southward with a tense frown. "Move it Chief. Whoever it is out there, they may not have a lot of time."

Hastily tightening the cinch Blair scrambled on his horse and turned to follow his older friend, trusting Sentinel sight to guide them through the darkness. Seeing Jim stop from time to time and raise his head in his distinctive listening pose told the young man that they were still on the right trail, and that whoever Jim had heard was still making sounds.

It was a long time before Blair finally heard the faint sounds of someone crying out in pain, and once again he found himself impressed with Jim's abilities, and wishing there was some way to truly test his limits. But such thoughts were pushed aside when he heard another cry, this time clear and close enough to determine it was a child being hurt, and badly from the sounds of it.

The two men dismounted, and with Jim in the lead crept up on a small campfire, wincing when they heard yet another cry. Concealed by the tress and darkness, they took in the scene before them with cold fury.

Two men dressed in rough clothing sat beside a roaring fire, a bottle of whiskey between the. Two bedrolls were spread out just behind them, a couple of saddles and assorted packs were piled nearby, and two horses could be seen tied to a far tree. For all appearances, a perfectly normal camp.

Except for the naked boy hanging from his wrists to the left of the fire.

To Blair's experienced eyes, the child appeared to be perhaps seven or eight years old, blondish hair and skin so pale it seemed nearly translucent. He was thin to the point of emaciation, his ribs standing out like bruises against the whiteness. They could see a vast number of welts, some old, some new, criss-crossing the narrow back, and as they watched one of the men picked up a stick that had been laying with its tip in the fire. Before either Jim or Blair could react, the man pressed the glowing red end of the stick against the inside of the child's thigh, the resulting breathless scream sending both of the men by the fire into gales of drunken laughter.

"Wassa madder, boy? Gettin tired of our game?" the drunk slurred, returning the stick to the fire and reaching for the whiskey.

"Either of you make a wrong move and I will take great pleasure in putting a bullet through your head," Jim growled, stepping into the light and training his gun on the two men seated before him. "Blair, take care of him."

Fighting back rage and nausea, Blair hastened to release the ropes holding the child aloft, easing the battered figure to the ground as gently as he could. Shucking off his own jacket, he wrapped the shivering figure in its warm folds even as his eyes sought out clothing for the boy. All the while he kept up a running litany of comforting words to the youngster, wondering how much was being understood since it appeared the kid was only barely conscious.

Meanwhile Jim was fighting his own rage, trying not to think about how good it would feel to strike out at the two monsters before him with the same violence and ruthlessness they'd shown toward a defenseless youth not even half their size. His finger twitching on the trigger, he more than half wished one of them would make a stupid move and just give him an excuse to rid the world of some garbage.

"Both of you, keep your hands where I can see them, lay down face forward on the ground, hands behind your heads," the former soldier ordered, indicating to Blair he should move the boy back from the area a bit. If these two were as stupid as he suspected, they might actually try something.

As it turned out, his concern was well founded. Though it appeared at first that the prisoners were going to be reasonable, but the larger one had a small gun in a forearm holster, and he made his play as they shifted to lie down as ordered. His body hadn't even hit the ground when his partner grabbed for his sidearm only to be taken out before he'd even cleared leather.

"You two okay?" Jim asked, holstering his gun with a sigh.

"Fine. Wish he hadn't had to see that, though," Blair replied with a worried look at the shivering figure in his arms. "You see his clothes anywhere? He's freezing." Despite the bodies lying close by, Blair moved closer to the fire, trying to shield the sight of the dead men from the youngster in his embrace.

"Yeah, I think so. Give me a minute, and I'll build up the fire a bit more, too," the big man replied, stopping suddenly at the sound of distant gunshots. "You hear that?"

"Yeah," the younger man replied anxiously, peering out toward the darkness they'd just traversed. "Sounded like it came from the area of our camp, right?"

"Yep. Damn. We got to hurry, Chief," the Sentinel declared, grabbing the clothing he'd spotted moments before and moving to Blair's side. "Let me give him a quick once over." Sensitive hands probed the malnourished body with feathery gentleness, the muscle in the side of Ellison's face bunching into an angry knot as he cataloged the damage. The boy didn't respond in any manner to the examination, remaining pliant in Sandburg's arms, his green eyes open and dull, staring at nothing.

"Jim, maybe you should go back alone, it'd be faster," Blair suggested quietly as Jim finished.

"I thought of that, but it's a bad idea. If the wagon's been taken, it will take twice as long to recover if I have to come back here and retrieve you first, and no way am I leaving you alone out here with a hurt kid for any length of time. That's just asking for trouble. No, we'll load the bodies on their horses, and all go back together. Once we retrieve our equipment, we'll make haste to Salem, get this little guy looked at by the local doc, since you didn't come prepared for this sort of emergency. Find out if these two idiots were wanted criminals or just stupid bastards who enjoyed hurting children. Turn over whoever stole our stuff. But we stick together." As he spoke he'd been quickly wrapping the dead men in blankets and saddling their horses. Blair had managed to wrestle the clothing onto the trembling child, then wrapped his jacket back around him, settling him down by a large rock while he doused the fire and helped Jim secure the bodies. It was less than fifteen minutes after hearing the shots that the two men headed back toward their original camp, now accompanied by a small boy, two dead men, and two extra horses.

Blair held his still trembling burden as gently as he safely could, dividing his attention between the injured youngster and carefully guiding his horse in Jim's wake. Warmed by the adrenalin rush of the earlier confrontation, and distracted by his concern for their unexpected guest, he was fortunately unaware of the chill in the night air. Trusting his Sentinel to lead him true, the younger man was not paying attention to their surroundings, and consequently nearly ran into the back of one of the other horses when Jim called an unexpected halt.

"What's up Jim?" Blair whispered, knowing his Sentinel would be able to hear the soft words.

"Just listening," came the quiet reply. Shrugging to himself, Blair shifted the boy in his arms, wondering if the child had finally drifted off completely, and wishing there was light enough to tell.

A few moments later Jim started out again, his pace more purposeful somehow, less stealthy, and soon Blair caught a whiff of smoke from a campfire. The Sentinel didn't pause, but led the way into the clearing where they had earlier set up camp. All that remained, however, was the slowly dying fire. No wagon, no equipment, no horses; even their bedrolls were gone.

"Dammit all," Jim muttered, dismounting to check over the camp. "Stay back there, Sandburg, I don't need any more prints around here," he added irritably.

"Jim, calm down, okay? We'll find them, just like you said earlier. You know you have more problems with your senses when you get upset. Just take some nice, calm breaths, and step back for a minute...Come on, you know the drill," the guide coached from the edge of the dismantled camp.

"Sandburg," the big man growled, his angry blue eyes meeting their calm counterparts in silent battle. Giving a last, frustrated groan, the Sentinel took a deep breath, holding it for a count of five, just as they'd practiced so many times. It took three such breaths before he felt the knot of anger holding his senses captive loosen. Finally in control again, he began a careful, painstaking sweep of the area, noting with satisfaction that the robbers weren't being particularly cautious. It appeared they figured the dark would hide their tracks for at least a few hours.

"Naturally, they have to be going in the opposite direction of where we want to go," Jim mumbled as he mounted his horse again and started out. "Keep close, Junior, I don't want to end up hunting around for you, too."

"Very funny, Jim. You just worry about the trail ahead, I'll watch your back. Quite literally, I'll watch your back," was the wry reply.

Tracking at night didn't present any particular problem to Sentinel senses, but it was still more dangerous than during the day, since the horses, and Blair, didn't have the same advantage Jim did. Hyper aware of the fact he had two other people and four horses to guide safely through the dark terrain, the tall man took pains to pick a careful path round hazards, by necessity slowing their progress. But, since their quarry wouldn't be expecting them to be following so soon, and would also be traveling without the benefit of enhanced vision, Jim figured they would overtake them about daybreak, barring unforeseen problems.

"Okay, three men. We'll wait until they're all together," Jim told his partner when he returned from a quick recon of the temporary camp the thieves had set up. "Look, we need to stash the kid somewhere out of sight, then I want you to approach from the other side, as usual," he continued.

Blair nodded and went to the base of a nearby tree, where there was a natural hollow between the tree and a boulder. "Look, buddy, I want you to wait in there for us, okay? You'll be safe there, and don't come out, no matter what. Not until Jim or I come for you," he instructed the boy, not knowing if the child could hear or understand him. He situated the small body comfortably, tucking his jacket around him closely, hoping to keep him warm enough, then joined Jim in watching the makeshift camp.

"Circle around there - quietly - Chief, then wait for my signal. I'm hoping this group is smarter than the last one was," Jim whispered, pointing to an area on the other side of the camp.

Blair nodded his agreement then set out silently to the indicated spot. Using his enhanced hearing, the Sentinel tracked his friend's progress, waiting for Sandburg's whispered 'ready' before stepping out into the circle of light, gun held at the with deceptive casualness.

"Now, gentlemen, it is truly a sign of your lack of class that you'd steal from others who are distracted by a mission of mercy. Where is your Christian charity?" the big man drawled laconically as the others jumped to their feet in surprise.

"I suggest you drop your weapons before someone gets hurt," Ellison continued, standing rock steady, his gun unwavering.

"How good you think you're going to do against three of us?" the apparent leader scoffed, his expression challenging.

"I figure I can take out two of you with no problem," Jim replied calmly.

"And whoever he doesn't take, I can," came Blair's calm voice, startling the three thieves.

"Guess you got us then," the leader mumbled, relaxing his stance a little before launching himself at his gun simultaneously with the man beside him, while the third man threw his cup of coffee in Sandburg's face, temporarily blinding the young man.

Ellison's first shot clipped one of them in the shoulder even as he threw himself toward a nearby tree for cover, checking quickly on Sandburg as he went. The smaller man was also attempting a hasty retreat, when he suddenly stumbled and seemed to grow a knife handle out of his upper arm. The nasty laugh from the third thief confirmed that he was the knife thrower; a laugh that was cut off abruptly by Jim's fatal shot to the neck.

"You got one wounded and one dead, pal. Ready to cut your losses? Or shall we go for broke?" Jim called out, hoping the idiot would take the wisest choice and give up; he could hear Blair's labored breathing and knew his friend was hurting badly.

Shifiting his attention away from his guide, Jim listened for the uninjured thief, eventually realizing the man was attempting to sneak up on Blair, presumably to force Jim's hand. Moving with the stealth of his spirit guide, the Sentinel set a trap for the trapper, bringing the muzzle of his gun to rest on the man's temple even as the thief was bringing up his weapon to bear on Sandburg.

"I win," Jim whispered before drawing back the gun and crashing the butt of it into the man's head with lightening speed. The thief fell soundlessly to the ground, blood already oozing from the gash on his head.

"Hang on a minute more, Chief, and I'll take care of you," Jim said quietly, then looked back out at the camp.

"You still out there, sport? You buddy here is taking a little nap, so if you show yourself now and save me the trouble of searching for you, that would be best," he called out. A moment later the wounded thief entered the clearing, his good hand held aloft after dropping is rifle where Jim could easily see it.

"Come here, turn around," Ellison ordered, grabbing a nearby piece of rope. He made quick work of binding his prisoner's hands, then considered the situation.

"You know, I should haul all three of you to town and hand you over to the sheriff, but that just sounds like too much work for now. So, instead, I think I'll turn you free, let you take your chances." He chuckled a bit at his idea, then pushed the prisoner to a seated position. Within minutes he's saddled the thieves' horses and bound the dead man to one, then hefted the unconscious leader on another, using rope to bind his legs to the stirrups, and his hands tightly behind him. Facing the tail end of the horse, just for entertainment value. He bound the injured prisoner the same way, then tied the three horses together.

"There you go, pal. You're pretty well off the beaten path, but someone may find you before thirst and hunger take care of you. Or maybe you'll figure out how to get free. In any case, it's not my problem. Just remember this; I ever see any of you again, and I won't be as forgiving," Ellison growled, then smacked the nearest horse to get them on their way before dismissing them from his mind. He had more important matters to consider.

"Jim! Jim, come here!" Blair called, his voice coming from the area where they'd tied their horses, not where he'd left the injured man.

"Dammit, Chief, what are you doing wandering around?" he demanded, hurrying over to his upset partner.

"He's not here! He must have gotten scared with the gunfire and run off," the smaller man said, obviously upset, holding his jacket the boy had left behind. "Can you hear him?"

Jim took a quick listen, but didn't hear any sounds like that of a fleeing child. "Sorry, Blair, no. I'll go look for him as soon as I get you fixed up."

"Don't worry about me, just go find him!" Typically, Sandburg was more concerned everyone...anyone...else but himself.

Beginning to wonder if this night from hell was ever going to end, the older man just helped his best friend to his feet and led him to the fire, which he quickly stoked up. Looking at the knife embedded in the muscles of Blair's arm, the former army medic knew it was going to be a nightmare for Sandburg when he removed it. After a quick internal debate, he grasped the smaller man's upper arm and simply pulled the knife back out in one straight, steady pull.

"Arghhhhhh!!!!! Oh, damn, Jim! Thanks for the warning," Blair gasped out, his sweat beaded face pale in the firelight. "Oh, God, that hurt!"

"I know Buddy, I know. And warning you wouldn't have helped any. Now let me clean it out and fix you up," the Sentinel soothed his guide, carefully peeling the layers of shirts away from the injured arm and tipping water from his canteen over the bleeding wound. "You're not going to like it, but I'm going to have to disinfect it. I'll get the supplies. Hold this against it in the meantime."

Blair sighed unhappily, even as he looked out at the darkened wilderness beyond the firelight, worried about the boy they'd rescued. Jim settled back in beside him, wordlessly handing him a chunk of wood to bite on, before soaking a piece of cloth in alcohol.

The next few minutes were unpleasant in the extreme to both men as Blair fought against the urge to scream at the ungodly pain the cleaning was causing. Every touch of the cloth or liquid to the open wound burned like a brand, and by the time his friend was finished Sandburg was trembling with fatigue and pain, leaning weakly against a fallen log by the fire.

"You did good, Kid," Jim encouraged him, relieved to finally be binding the wound. "We'll still have a doctor look at it, as soon as possible, but I think you'll be okay." He knelt beside his exhausted friend, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Look, I'm going to leave you this gun, you just rest, and shoot anything that moves that isn't me, the kid, or one of the horses, okay? I'm going to go find our wayward charge."

"I'll be fine, Jim," Sandburg assured him, resting the gun in his lap and indicating the Sentinel should go ahead. With one last look at his injured companion, Jim set out in search of a small boy in a large wilderness.

It didn't take Jim long to discover that tracking a small child was considerably more difficult than tracking adults mounted on horses. The signs of the boy's passage were few, faint, and far between, and more often than not he found himself following the fading, distinct odor of the campfire smoke that had saturated the child's clothing. Having spent the last few hours using his senses on 'high', the Sentinel was getting fatigued, and he was frankly relieved for his own sake when he heard the boy's heartbeat coming from a thicket up ahead. Dropping to one knee, he carefully pushed aside the thorny bushes, suffering a number of stinging punctures in the process.

"Damn! Come on, Kid, get out of there. I don't have time for this," he said brusquely, his temper fraying with exhaustion and worry.

There was no reply from the child, and Jim started to crawl forward, intending to grab the boy and drag him out if necessary, when he got a good look at the youth. Shame suffused him as he realized the boy was nearly immobilized by fear, and he forced himself to relax his stance and speak gently.

"I'm sorry, I guess I'm looking at someone who's had an even worse night than I have, huh? But, Kiddo, Blair...my friend?...he's hurt, we need to get going, get him to a doctor. You too, actually. I'm not going to hurt you, I promise, but I really, really need for you to come out of there. The bad guys are all gone, at least for tonight, you'll be okay. And I can make a nice warm bed for you in the wagon, wouldn't that be nice? To be able to sleep somewhere soft and warm?" He rambled on, seeing the tension gradually ease in the small body. Wary green eyes met his, and Ellison forced himself to meet that questing gaze with as much gentleness as he could, wanting the boy to trust him. Suddenly it seemed very important this small, battered child trust Jim Ellison to take care of him.

After a seeming eternity, the boy cautiously moved forward, toward Ellison, who backed up, holding as much of the foliage away from them as he could. Emerging scratched, but otherwise unharmed, the youngster looked up at Jim questioningly.

"Camp is back that way. If I carry you it would be faster," he suggested quietly.

The boy's answer was an involuntary step backward, and the man understood that trust was going to have to be earned in this case. Acting on instinct, the big man simply nodded and indicated with his arm the direction they needed to head, then turned and started toward camp, letting the boy make to choice to follow.

That he tracked the child's every step was something the boy didn't need to know, Jim decided with an inward smile.

"You okay, Chief?" Jim called out when they finally reached the camp, mostly to alert Blair they were out there, since he'd already checked for problems and had found only the familiar heartbeat of his guide.

"Fine. You find him?" Blair asked anxiously, turning around where he sat to see Jim walking up with empty arms.

"I think we may have found a kid who can out-stubborn you," the big man grinned, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the boy behind him.

"I thought Tanya could out-stubborn me," the younger man challenged with an answering smile.

"Fine. Another kid who can out-stubborn you. Whatever," he capitulated before turning to his small shadow. "Listen, Buddy, you want to sit over there with Blair while I get us ready to go? Warm yourself up a little? Then that soft bed I promised, okay?" Without touching the youngster he herded him over to Blair, who pulled him onto his lap with easy familiarity, fussing quietly over the chilled child.

Sighing quietly, Jim set about hitching up the horses and tying the saddle mounts to the back of the wagon. He retrieved his and Blair's bedrolls and shifted the equipment around so he had room to make two small, cozy nests in the back of the wagon, one on each side. Checking his preparations one last time, he went back to the fire only to find both Blair and their guest were sound asleep.

Chuckling to himself at the sight, he cautiously removed the child from Sandburg's arms and tucked him into one of the beds, wrapping his securely in the blankets. Returning for Blair, Jim checked his friend's wound one last time, then with an ease that belied Blair's sturdy build, he carried the deeply sleeping man to the wagon and settled him down on the second bedroll, making sure he was secure and warm. He buried the fire pit and checked the surroundings one last time before wearily climbing up onto the wagon and clucking to the horses to get them moving again.

Biting back a yawn, he focused on the trail as the sky began to lighten just a little with the coming dawn. It was going to be a long day, after a long night.

A few hours later found Jim kneeling by a small stream, splashing water on his face to remove at least a layer or two of trail dust, after filling both canteens. He stretched his aching muscles, then turned back to the wagon, checking first on the boy sleeping quietly on the nearest side. The big man gently peeled back the covers to reveal the dirty, peaceful face, and a quick sweep of his senses over the slight figure showed the child to be sleeping deeply. Satisfied, he tucked the covers back in and went around to check on Blair.

Despite his care in removing the covers, the young man woke up as soon as his head was uncovered, making Jim think absurdly of chickens' and tucking their heads under their wings to make them sleep. Smiling, he laid a soothing hand on the curly head, pleased to find his friend was warm, but not feverish.

"How you feeling, Chief?" he asked softly.

"fine...'kay," was the slightly garbled response.

"Just taking a quick break here, you need anything?"

"Wa'er?"

"Sure thing. Here, let me help," Jim couldn't help but chuckle as he supported the smaller man's upper body and held the full canteen to his lips. Letting Blair drink his fill, he carefully lowered his injured friend back down and began to rearrange the covers over him.

"You need me to drive for a while?" Sandburg asked, considerably more alert but hardly up to his normal standards.

"I've got it under control, Junior. You just go ahead and rest some more. I'll wake you up when we get to town," Ellison assured him.

"Okay, rest I can do," the young man mumbled, already more asleep than awake. Giving his quiescent companion a fond look, Jim checked the horses and rigging before climbing back on the seat and resuming their journey.

With the horses plodding along steadily over the well maintained trail, there was little to hold the Sentinel's attention, and soon his mind had drifted back, remembering when he first met a certain long-haired young man with a quick mind and more courage than was prudent...

***Captain James J. Ellison was tired, hurting, and more than a little depressed as he rode through the endless desert. It felt good to be out in the open, where the air was dry and hot, surrounded by infinite shades of brown topped by a sky that was endlessly blue and calm. He'd spent far too much time in the stifling green moisture of the southern states, fighting for the freedom of men and women he'd never met, nor would likely ever meet.

Raised in the wilds of the Pacific Northwest, slavery was only a distant concept to him, one he'd never really given much thought to. Until in his restlessness he heard of a conflict brewing on the other side of the country, and he found himself unable to ignore his curiosity. His life up until then had been one of tedium, tending his small farm outside Cascade most of the year. Long periods of stability were interspersed with times when he'd simply pack his saddlebags, hire someone from town to watch the place, and ride off alone. He always returned, anywhere from one to six weeks later, often bruised and battered, sometimes with a companion who'd stay with him for a time. But always the companions left, and Jim's restlessness would grow again, until the next time he took off.

His father and brother, his only surviving family, had no doubt expected Jim to return within the usual time frame, and he wondered briefly how they'd respond when he showed up this time, after being gone nearly five years.

Spotting a waterhole ahead, he found himself once again falling into a strange kind of trance, as the sparkle of the sun on water mesmerized him. He failed to hear the approaching hoofbeats, and moments later the warriors left with their prisoner without a single weapon having been raised.

The Yojave Tribe was the smallest in the southwest, numbering less than 70 members, drifting through what is now New Mexico and Arizona. A unique tribe, with a remarkably peaceful and contemplative philosophy, they would not normally have grabbed a lone white man offering them no threat. But their venerable medicine man had proclaimed the solitary traveler to be important, a man of wondrous power, and had ordered his capture by whatever means necessary, as long as he survived.

Tachopey had lived in the desert for all his eighty-four summers, and over the years the unrelenting sun had bleached him to a faded brown, which closely matched the sandy soil around his lodge. This natural camouflage, along with the man's tendency to become perfectly still, allowed him to become almost invisible if he so desired, adding to his mystical aura, increasing his respect amongst the people. Even the chief of the tribe was second in power in respect to the wizened little man whose wisdom was shared freely and benevolently.

So when the shaman requested the capture of a white man, the braves did not question the instructions, but simply carried them out promptly, delivering the bound, and once again conscious, Jim Ellison to Tachopey's lodge at sunset. The old sage studied the younger man dispassionately, noticing the strong build and lack of fear in his prisoner. Satisfied by the conclusions he reached, he nodded to himself, then indicated his involuntary visitor was to be taken into his lodge and untied. Once the former soldier was released from his bonds, the old medicine man signaled the braves to leave, knowing they would guard his lodge, but not interfere.

"Sit. Drink," Tachopey instructed the younger man, indicating a comfortable looking rug on the floor near the fire. Jim had expected a raspy, dusty voice, given the appearance of the elderly man, but was pleasantly surprised to hear deep, mellow tones, rich with wisdom and experience.

"What do you want with me? I have nothing of value to you," Ellison said even as he sank down on the indicated spot, accepting a steaming cup of bittersweet smelling tea.

"Oh, you are wrong there. You are of great value to me. I have waited my whole life for you, seems the Great Spirits did have a reason for not calling me home yet. Drink, drink. Before it gets cold," he gently admonished his guest.

Puzzled, Jim did as requested, watching the shaman carefully, not particularly worried yet. The oldster sat down opposite the white man and sipped his own drink, gazing thoughtfully at the fire, letting Ellison get accustomed to his surroundings.

"What do you mean, that you've waited your whole life for me? What do you want from me? I can tell you quite honestly, I don't have anything worth taking." There was no fear in the big man's voice, just an odd resignation that caught his listener's attention.

"You have a great gift to share, you are only unaware of it as yet. This will change in time, we will see to that. It is my destiny to see you recognize your path, we will start out together," Tachopey continued serenely, sipping his tea with a far away look.

"You speak English well," Jim noted.

"I have had a good teacher. A worthy teacher is something to value; you should remember this, Sentinel. Consider it your first lesson."

"What did you call me?" Ellison asked with a sharp look.

"Sentinel. It is what you are, what you will be. It is your destiny. That is the English word for it, or so I have been told, so that is what I shall call you. It is a title you can honor," the aura of tranquility that surrounded the older man was now irritating his younger companion.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm not a 'Sentinel', whatever that is. I'll not mock your beliefs, but they're your beliefs, not mine. You can't make me into something I'm not just because your 'Great Spirits' will it," he declared firmly.

"What is is. It matters not what you believe. You are what you are destined to be."

"What I'm 'destined to be' is home in a few days, not camping out here with you. Sorry, but I don't have the time or the inclination to listen to this. Am I a prisoner?" Ellison asked abruptly.

"Not of the Yojave," he said cryptically.

Ice blue eyes searched the wizened visage, then the tall younger man rose to his feet with sinuous grace. "You won't mind if I take my leave then."

"If you leave now, you will not get the answers you need," the medicine man said with that maddening calm.

"What makes you think I have questions?" Ellison blustered.

"You think you are going mad, but it is not a madness that causes your distress. It is a gift, and I can help you embrace it, use it for the good of your tribe."

"I don't have a tribe. I don't want your gift." The voice was firm, but now edged with a cautious curiosity despite his words.

"You misunderstand. Your wants are like pebbles in the river of destiny, they have no power to alter its path. The gift has already been received, it is your choice to you learn to use it, if you have the courage," Tachopey commented mildly.

Ellison scoffed softly. "No one will question my courage, old man. Nor will they use idle threats to entice me to do their bidding," he countered, staring at the elderly Indian defiantly. "I know what you're trying to do, and it won't work." He turned again to the doorway.

"You hear the eagle cry, see him flying free, when no one else can. You can feel the vibrations of an underground spring where there is no evidence to be seen. You can smell the presence of a bear a mile away. You can taste the sweetness of a summer strawberry in the morning breeze from the river. You think you are going mad." The wizened medicine man stared into the dancing flames as he spoke, but his words had stopped Jim Ellison in his tracks.

"How can you know this?" he whispered, suddenly pale.

"It was foretold that you would come, I've been waiting a long time."

"For what? To meet a freak? These spells I have, they've ruined my life. My dad thinks I'm a freak, defective. My brother is ashamed of me. My mother couldn't even face it, she took off years ago, went back East. I hear them talking in town: 'There goes William's crazy son, they say he hears voices in his head.' Kids dare each other to come up and speak to me. I walk into a business and everyone stops talking, I leave and I hear the laughter. This is what you call a 'gift'?"

"Yes. Sentinel, you have not been taught of your talent, that is all. I can help you; it is my destiny to help one such as you. I can promise you this; if you let me help, you will come to appreciate your abilities, and you will not be walking life's path alone any longer. Does this not sound better than it has been in your past? Do you truly have anything to lose by trying?" Despite his age, the dark eyes were lively and youthful in their enthusiasm when he looked up at the younger man.

"I don't suppose it would hurt to listen to you," Jim finally conceded, not willing to admit to the spark of hope that flared at the old man's conviction. Too much hurt over too many years had curtailed his ability to believe in miracles, but deep inside there was still a smidgen of faith, and that small part of Jim Ellison latched on to Tachopey's words as a lifeline.

"Excellent. You both shall benefit from learning together," the old man decided, laying aside his now empty cup and preparing to stand.

"Both of us? There is another like me? But you said..." he trailed off at the medicine man's warm chuckle.

"No, Sentinel, there is only one of you. I refer to Guide, who has been waiting for me to find you for him. Now you both shall heal and find your destinies. This is indeed a very good day."

"Guide? Who, or what, is 'Guide'? You didn't mention this before," Jim said warily, years of hiding his 'madness' had made him mistrustful of letting anyone close.

"Guide is part of your new future, Sentinel. Every Sentinel must have a Guide, it is the ancient way, and must be honored. Here he is now," the old man said, indicating the trim young man who entered the lodge, his dark hair pulled back into a thick, long braid.

Jim approached the smaller figure slowly, taking in the slender, yet solid build, the slight bounce in the young man's stance which belied the demurely downcast eyes and respectful pose. He noticed that the dark hair was obviously wavy, despite being pulled back severely into a single, wrist-thick plait, and the only skin he could see was fairer than a typical Indian's. Despite those observations he was still startled when the younger man looked up and Jim found himself gazing into round eyes the color of a deep lake at noon...***

Jim was startled from his thoughts by the sound of approaching riders, and he unconsciously moved the rifle to within easy reach as he glanced back to check on his two slumbering passengers. His caution was wasted on the two youngsters who appeared; they were obviously out on a pleasure ride, their dusty bare feet dangling below the cuffs of well-worn overalls. They were riding two old plow horses bareback, and a couple of homemade fishing poles were clutched in their grimy hands.

"Hey, boys, how far to town?" Ellison asked with a smile.

"'Bout a mile, mister. Is them men dead?" the nearer one asked with wide eyes.

"Yeah, taking them in to the sheriff. Is Sheriff Pendergrast still in town?"

"Yessir. You shoot 'em? What they done?" the second boy wondered.

"Yes, I shot them, for doing evil things. Didn't your folks ever tell you it's not nice to ask so many questions?" the big man countered, clicking his tongue to the team to move them on out. His comment was met with matching unrepentant grins, and Jim couldn't help but smile in response. He knew very well about little boys and questions.

A soft snort of laughter issued from the wagon behind Jim as the boys rode on their way, and the Sentinel turned to give his guide a warm smile.

"Reminded me of you, Chief," he grinned at the disheveled younger man.

"Yeah, yeah, well not everyone can eavesdrop with the ease you can, Big Guy," was the grumbling response as Sandburg tried to extricate himself from the nest of blankets.

"Whoa, Blair, just stay there, Buddy. We're almost to Salem, no need to be getting up yet. Nothing you can do to help, might as well stay comfortable. I have a feeling 'comfortable' is not how you'll feel once the doc gets ahold of you," Ellison suggested.

"Oh, gee, Jim, that makes me feel so much better," the smaller man groused, but he settled back down and yawned hugely. "You get any rest at all?"

"No, but I'm hoping I can get some in town. The sheriff is an old friend, he can probably watch the stuff for a while, let me sleep. Or I'll just catch up tonight. At any rate, don't worry about it, just settle down and enjoy the ride, what little is left of it."

"How's the kid doing?" Blair asked after a few moments of silence.

"Sleeping peacefully. Once the doc finishes with him we need to get him to eat something. When I checked him over last night I noticed how thin he is, just skin and bones," Jim noted.

"Skin and bones and open sores. Damn, I wonder how long those two had him. Maybe one was his dad. Oh, wouldn't that be great?" Sandburg said sarcastically, though his expressive face was creased with worry as his thoughts strayed to the possible scenarios.

"Chief, let's not go borrowing trouble, okay? First things first, we get the doc to take care of him, then we worry about the long range plans. And I do believe a change of subject is in order, he's waking up," the Sentinel warned him, moments before the smaller bundle of bedding began to move around, eventually revealing a thoroughly rumpled looking head of light hair surrounding a pinched, dirty face.

"Hi there," Blair greeted him from the other side of the wagon bed. "Good morning. We're almost to town, we can get you looked at by the doctor, then a good meal. How's that sound?"

Solemn green eyes met his with a marked lack of interest, and Blair found himself wondering if they boy was perhaps on the simple side. There was more than a lack of enthusiasm in those light orbs, there was no sense of awareness, no curiosity, no spark. The young man could not even tell if the child had understood what was said to him, so he followed it up with an encouraging smile and gestured toward the town they were just entering.

"By Jove, I thought I'd finally gotten rid of all the riffraff in this town!" The booming voice caught the attention of all three occupants of the wagon, as a large man sporting a sparking silver badge rode up, a grin splitting his pleasant face.

"They just hand out those trinkets to anyone, don't they?" Jim countered, indicating the badge even as he shook the sheriff's proffered hand. "Jack, it's good to see you again."

"And you, Jim," Pendergrast agreed, then looked over at the young man sitting on the far side of the wagon. "Blair, haven't you wised up and ditched him yet?" he queried with a widening of his grin.

"Nah, I've gotten used to him. You're looking good."

"I'm looking alive, that's a miracle in and of itself. I see you brought me a couple of presents, nicely wrapped and everything. You really shouldn't have, Jim. I didn't get anything for you," he teased, though his look was frankly curious, especially when his gaze fell on their other passenger. "And who is this?"

"A good question, Jack. And one we hope to find the answer to. Look, I need to get these two to the doc, then we can discuss the other matters. Is it still Serena?"

"Who else would have this town? I'll ride on ahead and let her know she has customers coming. You remember the way I'm sure," the sheriff offered, turning to ride ahead without awaiting a reply.

By the time Ellison pulled the wagon up in front of the doctor's office, Serena was standing on the front porch, smiling at some comment Jack was making. Jim ignored them and leapt to the ground, then turned to help the child climb out of the wagon. He was startled when the boy flinched back from him in obvious fear, the green eyes widening in fright.

"Hey, it's okay, no one's going to hurt you. The doc, she's a nice lady, she'll make you feel better, just you wait and see. But there's no one here who wants to hurt you like those men did, okay? Let the doctor take a look a you, then we can get some good food, you're probably hungry, right?" the big man rambled on soothingly, as the boy gave in to his wishes and allowed the Sentinel to lift him from the wagon and carry him into the doctor's office.

"Put him on that table there, Jim. What's the story with this little guy?" Her pleasant smile faded rapidly as Jim told her and the sheriff about how he and Blair found the boy; when she removed the soiled shirt the child wore Jack could be heard swearing softly as Serena pursed her lips in fury at the signs of abuse on the too thin body.

"Just tell me the two bodies out there were the ones who had him," Pendergrast muttered, his eyes dark with anger.

"That I can do, Jack. Though it was self-defense; the idiots pulled a gun on me. But, definitely a shooting I'm not going to waste a lot of regret over. It was a game to them, just a bit of fun with the kid to cut the boredom. Looks like they got bored quite a bit, doesn't it? They were laughing like it was the most fun they'd ever had. God, I could use a drink," Ellison said, his voice just above a whisper, not wanting the boy to hear what he was saying. "I need to get Blair in here, too. Why don't you give me a hand, Jack, okay?"

"Blair's hurt, too? Why didn't you say so, you big dummy. We should have brought him in right away. How bad is it? I keep telling you, the kid isn't meant for all this dangerous stuff you drag him into," the older man fussed at his younger friend.

Jim couldn't help but grin smugly at his old friend as they went back out to the wagon. "Damn, Jack. I would have sworn you told me you couldn't stand Sandburg. Now you're telling me I'M a danger to HIM?"

"Ah, the kid's okay," Jack muttered, not wanting Blair to hear and refusing to meet Jim's smiling gaze.

"Yeah, got it," Ellison muttered back, not fooled in the least. He turned his attention to Blair, who was busily checking the equipment in the back of the wagon, shifting some of the heavy items around with his uninjured arm, unaware of the two other men's approach.

"Just what do you think you're doing, Chief?" he asked loudly, satisfied when the younger man jumped in surprise.

"Just wanted to make sure everything was still here and okay," he muttered, scuffing his foot against the wagon wheel, and looking guiltily at his Sentinel.

"And you thought lifting heavy things with an injured arm would help it heal, huh?" Ellison chided him gently, softening his words with a smile. "Come on in and let Serena take a look at you."

"Has she already finished with the boy?" Blair asked as the three men approached the front door again.

"Not yet, but there's no reason you can't wait inside. As a matter of fact, Chief, as soon as I'm sure you're okay, I'll probably leave you both here and take care of the other business with Jack. No reason for you or the kid to be involved in that," the Sentinel explained.

"That's fine, but don't forget you need some rest, and some food would help, too. We aren't that far behind schedule, and I'm actually feeling pretty good after sleeping so long," the shorter man commented, looking up at his tall friend with a bit of a grin. "You could let me drive the wagon and you could sleep in back."

"Attractive as that idea is, Sandburg, the answer is no. Never mind that I'd never get any real sleep, there's no way I'll let you drive the wagon. It'd be safer to let the boy drive," he muttered only half-kidding. For some reason, no matter how hard he tried, Blair simply could not concentrate on driving a wagon, at least not for long periods of time. His mind would wander, and soon he'd leave off actually steering the horses, but distracted by his busy thoughts would let the animals meander wherever they wanted, inevitably leading to disaster.

"Oh, you're so funny, Jim," the young man grumbled sarcastically, earning wide grins from his older companions as they entered the doctors office. They found Serena standing in the main room by an empty examination table, looking at the belt she held in her hands as if it were a particularly nasty species of snake.

"What is it, Serena? What's wrong? Where's the kid?" Jim asked sharply, stepping forward anxiously, ready for trouble.

"I thought I recognized him, but it never occurred to me," she muttered, then looked around at the three men with an unhappy expression. "The boy's in the back room with Helen, she's giving him a bath. I really couldn't treat him, filthy as he was. But when he finished getting undressed, I noticed this." She turned the belt buckle toward the others with a sigh

"Now why does that look familiar?" Jack wondered as the other two men just looked puzzled by Serena's reaction.

"You've seen this symbol on a wagon, Jack." She gave him a moment, but it was obvious recognition was dancing just outside his reach. "He's the apothecary's son. You remember Warren, used to come around every six months or so? This symbol was on his wagon."

"Of course! Nice fellow, that one. Would come by with medicines and whatnot. Never caused a minute's trouble, little guy, looked like a strong breeze would blow him over. And now that I think of it, he did have a boy, didn't he? Damn. You sure Serena?"

"Very. He stayed for dinner a couple of times, I remember his son's green eyes and a scar on the inside of his left arm. First time I met Warren was shortly after his son was hurt in a fall from his horse, his arm was still heavily bandaged. His name is Billy, by the way. I wonder where his father could be, he'd never leave his son, I'm sure. He seemed very devoted to the boy," she mused.

"Well, if his dad is small as you describe, he wasn't one of the ones who had Billy. They were both much closer to my size. Any way you know of to try to find his father?" Jim inquired.

"Not that I know of, his father got his medicines from San Francisco, but I think he just lived on the road. He told me about it one night, guess he was feeling lonely and I offered a friendly ear. Seems he had been a doctor in a small town in California, a real remote area. He and his wife were happy there, they'd made a good life for themselves and their son," she told them, then fixed Blair with a suddenly intent look. "I can tell stories and doctor at the same time, hop on up here, and let me see that arm," she instructed, turning to get some supplies as she resumed her tale.

"Anyway, they were happy, he made it sound like they'd found a little piece of heaven. Then there was an outbreak of Scarlet Fever, they didn't know how it started, but it spread fast. He didn't have the medicine to treat it, so they sent a rider out to the nearest town in search of what they needed, but it would take at least two or three days, and that was IF the nearest town had the drugs on hand. Turned out they didn't; it was nearly a week before the rider returned with the stuff, and by then seven people had died, including Warren's wife. I think Warren said Billy was five at the time, he was sure the boy would die as well, he'd gotten sick the day after his mother first fell ill. But he saved Billy, and the rest of the townspeople who'd been stricken. It wasn't enough, though," she said softly, noticing the sadness in the men's eyes; they'd all known their share of pain and loss in the rough country.

"So he decided to become a traveling apothecary?" Blair ventured, wincing as Serena gently probed his injury.

"Yeah. He didn't want anyone else to lose a loved one just because they didn't have access to the medicine they needed. He was providing a wonderful service for small towns like this one, he probably saved dozens of lives. I'd like to know what happened to him," Serena concluded as she reached for some alcohol to clean Blair's injury.

"I'll send out the word, see if I can find anything out. If you have Blair and Billy under control Serena, I'll take Jim on over to my office and take care of his other guests," Jack said, grimacing in sympathy as she continued to clean the deep wound on the young man's upper arm.

"I can handle these two, you boys go on. When you're done come back, Jim, and they should be ready to go. And you need to decide what you're going to do with the little one, whatever his situation is, one thing is for certain; his father is not around. The nearest orphanage is in..."

"He'll be coming with us," Jim declared firmly, cutting Serena off brusquely.

Even Blair looked a little wide eyed at the Sentinel's tone of voice, though he heartily agreed the boy would need extra care, which was something they were more than willing to give him.

"Very well, then. I'll get them both travel ready," the doctor said agreeably enough, giving Ellison a tight smile. Just then her assistant came in with the blanket wrapped Billy beside her.

Seeing the doctor would be busy enough to not appreciate any distractions, the sheriff indicated to Jim they should leave, and with a nod at Sandburg the former soldier followed his old friend out the door.

Blair watched Serena's assistant help the small boy - 'Billy, his name is Billy' Blair reminded himself - to a comfortable chair in the corner, leaving him seated there with the admonishment to stay put.

"All finished," the young woman said to the doctor, giving Blair a shy smile in answer to his appreciative perusal.

"Thanks, Helen. Would you please go by the church and ask the Reverend to check in the clothing box, try to find some new clothes for him? Those ones he was wearing are beyond repair, I'm afraid," she requested before turning her attention once again to her older patient. "Okay, Blair, finished. I'm going to give you a salve I want you to apply to the wound twice a day for at least a fortnight. And if you see any sign of infection you get yourself to a doctor, you hear me?" she ordered him sternly.

"Yes ma'am," he replied respectfully, taking the jar and turning curious eyes to her. "Seems like an awful lot," he noted.

"Billy is going to need to be treated, too, and with the same salve and the same warnings. Why don't you watch me treat him this time, then you'll know what to do," she suggested, as Blair slipped off the examination table and put his shirt back on.

"I went to medical school, though my focus wasn't really on practical application as much as research and the so called 'soft' or social sciences, especially Anthropology. Though I do have quite a bit of practical training, and practice, as well," the young man commented evenly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound condescending," Serena started, looking abashed.

"No, no apology necessary, just wanted to let you know your patient should be in good hands," Blair smiled disarmingly.

"Thank you," the doctor said with considerable dignity, then turned to her smaller patient. "Come on, Sweetie, now that you're clean, let's take a good look at you, okay?"

Lifting the slight child onto the table she gently unwrapped him from the blanket, keeping him modestly covered as much as possible, and continuing a running litany of commentary to distract him from what she was doing. "You're Billy, right?" she asked directly, even as she ran a gentle finger over the old scar on the boy's left arm, which in her mind verified his identity.

The solemn green eyes met hers expressionlessly, no answer in the form of word or gesture forthcoming.

"Has he spoken at all since you found him?" Serena asked Blair with a frown.

"No, he hasn't. Jim heard him screaming, but he hasn't made a sound outside that."

"That's odd," the doctor mumbled, gently palpating the delicate neck, then checking inside the boy's mouth carefully. Without comment she continued on, treating the various wounds, including a number of burns, with the salve, discussing with Sandburg how to keep them clean and safe from further damage. By the time she'd finished Billy was pale and trembling with pain, while Serena and Blair were both tight lipped with anger at what the small child had endured.

"Billy, I'm going to give you a small dose of Laudanum, it'll make you feel a little better. Now, it'll also probably make you sleepy, and you can rest until Helen gets back, but then I want you awake and to eat something, okay? Now, just lie back here and relax," she urged him after he took the medicine, not even protesting at the vile taste of the stuff. "I'm going to go outside and talk to Blair for a few minutes. If you need something, you just holler, okay?" With a final smile at the youngster, the well-built woman ushered Sandburg out the door and onto the wide front porch.

"My, God, what kind of monster enjoys hurting a little boy that badly," she sighed, leaning back against the wall and wiping her hands on her skirt. "I'd guess he'd been beaten at least a half dozen different times, judging by the different degrees of healing. Thank God you and Jim found him, Blair. I don't think he would have survived much longer."

"What's with the not talking? Is there some damage?" Blair wondered.

"No, not that I could find. Probably more a reaction to what he's gone through. Maybe they punished him for talking too much, something like that. I think in time, if he gets used to being safe again, he'll start talking. You shouldn't push it for now; just let him recover. It's going to take some time, a lot of time, but I think he'll be okay."

Relief washed over the young man; he'd been worried that the boy had been damaged too badly, and Serena's assurances went far toward reassuring him. But, before he could reply, Helen returned with an armful of clothing and a worried expression.

"I brought several things, just in case I guessed wrong on size. The Reverend asked me to tell you that Mrs. Delaney's baby is coming, and he thinks they may need you. Can you come?" the young woman asked.

"Of course, let me grab my bag. It's probably best that Blair helps Billy anyway; he's most likely tired of womenfolk seeing him. Just be sure to lock the door behind you when you leave, okay?" she requested as she hurried off behind Helen without waiting for a reply.

"Sure," he grinned at her retreating back, then turned his attention to the sleeping figure on the table. "Rise and shine, Billy, time to get dressed. Let's see if they found some clothes that'll work. Come on, Kiddo, help me out here."

Gently coaxing the boy into a seated position, Blair sifted through the clothing, finding the necessary articles and handing them to the youngster to put on. As the slender youth bent over to pull on a pair of jeans, Blair's gaze was drawn again to the wounds on his back; they served as an unintentional reminder of a time in the young man's life he hadn't expected to survive...

***Blair stumbled, dropping half his load of firewood, with several pieces landing in the small creek he'd been stepping over. With a sigh the young man picked up the sticks that had avoided the water and continued back into the camp, already dreading facing Bold Hawk. It was inevitable that his 'owner' would see him lugging in an inadequate load of wood, not the times he'd before when he'd managed full ones. And it was inevitable that his 'correction' would take place in front of nearly the entire tribe. Sandburg's luck had run out months before, and at this point he figured the only good fortune left to him would be when he finally died from the abuse he received from the tribe.

It had been over seven months before that Blair, along as an assistant to Kendrick Mortenson, the new Anthropology professor at the Harvard, stumbled upon the Apache sacred burial grounds. Intrigued by the symbols, caught up in the excitement of discovery in this relatively new field of study, the professor didn't stop to consider the consequences of trespassing on sacred land. Blair realized the danger just a little too late, and only six of the eleven people in their party made it back to their horses safely. Four died on those sacred grounds, and one other was dead before they reached the village. It was two months before Blair gave up the hope for rescue and resigned himself to his fate of lifelong servitude to the brave who had captured him.

Not that he figured his life would be that long.

The beatings were bad enough. But when food was scarce, Blair often did without entirely, or else was given so little it did nothing except tease his hunger into a frenzy. It was during the winter that food was most likely to run out, naturally, and hunger combined with cold had very nearly killed him the previous year. He did not expect to survive the coming cold season, a thought that stirred no feelings in the young man save a weary gratitude.

In the beginning he'd tried to escape, only to find the punishment he earned was not worth the meager chance of success. Then he tried to 'adjust' to his situation, but no matter how hard he worked, no matter what he did, he was still treated brutally, and in time any hope he had was effectively quashed. So now he survived; nothing more, nothing less.

He endured Bold Hawk's ire over the wood stoically, taking the five blows from a green switch without a sound, grateful that the brave was in a good mood that evening. Instead of being allowed to eat, however, he was instructed to bring in four more loads of wood, and to fill the water barrel for the chief, a common occurrence since Bold Hawk often used Blair's services to curry favor with those in power.

It was on his third trip for wood that the young man realized he was not alone, and he nearly yelped in surprise when his gaze fell upon two dark eyes studying him curiously.

"Who are you? What are you doing there?" Blair asked, in his anxiety he didn't even realize he'd unconsciously spoken Apache for the first time.

"I'm trapped, my leg is stuck," the old man replied hesitantly, and the former anthropology student recognized the signs of someone speaking a language not native to them.

"You're not of the tribe," Blair noted, still unmoving.

"Nor are you," the elderly fellow pointed out reasonably.

Blair glanced back toward the village worriedly, then at the old man who regarded him mildly, seemingly unperturbed by the younger man's irresolution.

"If they catch you here, they may kill you," Blair pointed out, instincts suppressed for the last few months stirring in his spirit, warring with obedience learned in pain and fear, rendering him unable to make a decision.

"I cannot leave, trapped as I am," was the serene reply.

Sandburg's desperate gaze ricocheted between the distant village and the old man for several tense moments, until the man Blair had been before won the internal battle, sending him to the oldster's side. A quick check of the situation showed that a misstep has resulted in his foot being trapped by five logs, none of which could be shifted by the old man himself. The former student had to move three of them simultaneously before he'd could even come close to freeing the trapped appendage, all the while worried that he'd inadvertently cause a shift that would injure the elderly man. Finally he pulled the foot free, and assisted his companion to a safer spot, before gently checking over the withered limb.

"I don't think it's broken, just bruised," Blair said at last, the faint smile he offered feeling strange to him. It'd been a long time since he'd had any reason to smile.

"Thank you, I owe you a boon for your kindness."

"You'd best be going, before they come looking for me," Sandburg insisted, having noticed they were out of sight of the village where they currently sat. "Why don't you see if you can stand and walk?" he suggested, gently assisting the frail looking man to his feet, pleased that he seemed able to move well enough to get away from the area. "Get going, before they miss me," he urged the oldster.

"You should come with me, you are not of the Apache either."

"It's too dangerous. They'll come looking for me. If you go alone, you should be safe. Now, go." Blair turned back toward the wood gathering area without a backwards glance, his heart beating a frantic tattoo in his chest when he realized that Bold Hawk was coming after him, a thunderous look on his coldly handsome face...

A week had passed since the strange encounter with the old man in the woods, and Blair was finally able to move about with something resembling his usual strength. That evening Bold Hawk had punished his slave very nearly to the point of death, leaving the young man barely able to crawl back to his dirty pallet. The next day he hadn't moved at all, and even his owner was forced to admit Sandburg needed time to recover. After two days of total rest, and halfway decent food for a change, Blair was back on his feet, albeit very slowly and gingerly.

Blair had not mentioned the old man, and no sign had been seen of him, much to the former student's relief.

On the eighth day, Blair looked up from his work tanning a hide when he heard the excited babble of voices at the outskirts of the village. As the visitors rode past the young man's eyes widened in surprise at the snowy white hide the chieftain wore; even he knew that a white hide was powerful medicine. Whoever these visitors were, they were important, and Bold Hawk was among the group of braves that escorted him to the Apache chief's lodge.

"I am Stalking Wolf, Chief of the village. I do not recognize my honored guests."

"I am Timnaha, Chief of the Yojave. I have come to make a trade."

"What is it you offer?" Stalking Wolf asked, as per custom, though it was clear what he hoped it would be.

"This simple robe," Timnaha murmured, holding up an edge to further display its glory.

"What do you ask in exchange?" the Apache chief asked, even as he was thinking he'd trade his wife and four horses for the robe without a second thought.

"Three horses and one of your slaves," the leader of the Yojave answered, his expression betraying nothing of his thoughts.

A single command from Stalking Wolf sent braves hurrying to gather their horses and slaves. Soon Timnaha had selected three fine steeds from the small herd, then he turned his attention to the assembled slaves. Four men and six women stood in a line in front of the Yojave chief, their eyes carefully downcast in respect. The regal looking man paced in front of them for a few moments, before reaching out to take Blair's arm possessively.

"I'll take this one," he declared, not missing the anger that flared briefly in Bold Hawk's eyes as he realized he'd lost his slave.

"It is done, I have said it," Stalking Wolf proclaimed, reaching out to receive the robe with a reverent touch. He was well satisfied with the trade, and ordered a celebratory feast for that evening to mark the occasion. He caught the look of rebellion in Bold Hawk's eyes, and sternly stared down his brave, until the young warrior was firmly reminded of his place and all thoughts of recovering his lost property were forgotten. At least for the time being.

Meanwhile Blair had been unceremoniously hauled up behind one of the Yojave braves with the terse command to hang on. The group rode out of the Apache village briskly, not stopping until they'd put a considerable distance between themselves and the larger tribe. The young man held on grimly and silently to the large body in front of him, fighting off waves of nausea and dizziness as his still weakened condition made itself known. He barely noticed when they stopped and strong arms pulled him from the horse, sitting him down at the base of a tree. He found himself tied efficiently, but not cruelly, with a blanket settled over him against the approaching evening chill. He watched the bustle of activity as the camp was set up, gradually working his way down to a prone position that was a little easier on his aching head.

He'd been sleeping uneasily when he felt strong arms shift him back to a seated position, and nimble fingers untying the cords that bound his hands. He looked up into the impassive face of one of the Yojave braves, who handed him a bowl filled with meat and vegetables and legumes he didn't recognize immediately.

"Eat," came the command.

Blair looked at the contents of the bowl with wide eyes. That was more, and better, food than he'd seen since before his capture, and he looked curiously at the brave, not believing it was intended for him. Finally he cautiously took the bowl, and started to pick at the food, fully expecting it would be removed from his grasp at any moment. However, when the brave simply grunted and returned to the fire, Blair understood it really was all his, and he dug in with gusto, closing his eyes at the pleasure of well cooked, still warm food in a quantity that actually sated his hunger.

He had no more than set aside the empty bowl when the big brave was back, binding his hands once again, and repositioning the blanket over the sleepy young man. Fuller and warmer than he'd been in far too long, he fell into a restful slumber despite his anything but secure future.

The next day and a half passed much the same way, with occasional breaks while some of the men hunted, until they reached a larger camp that included women and children. A small group of youngsters gathered curiously when they spied the young white man, chattering amongst themselves excitedly in a language he didn't understand.

Sandburg was looking around with interest when he noticed the chief had dismounted and was moving to intercept an old man who was hobbling toward the new arrivals. The young man's eyes reflected his surprise when he recognized the old man he'd met in the woods over a week before...***

Blair shook off the memories, turning his attention once again to the boy in front of him, now standing fully clothed and clean, though only marginally awake thanks to the effects of the laudanum.

"So, what do you say we go find Jim and some food, huh? I don't know about you, but I could eat a horse; hooves and all," the young man said heartily, ignoring the lack of response in his companion as he gently herded the boy outside before locking up the office. "Jim should be about done with the sheriff now, so let's head over there."

Sandburg kept up a steady stream of commentary to his silent charge, pointing out the sights of Salem, making humorous observations on peoples' behavior, anything to help ground the child a little. He had the distinct feeling Billy was accustomed to being ignored when not being abused, and he wanted to be very clear that was no longer the case.

Intent on keeping Billy distracted, Blair didn't notice the large figure coming up behind them until a loud cough caught their attention, making Sandburg start in surprise.

"Whoa, Chief, a little jumpy, aren't you?" Jim grinned at him, his blue eyes sparkling with suppressed mirth that only increased in the face of his friend's ire.

"Real funny, Jim. I'll never understand how someone as big as a ox can move so quietly," he groused, relieved that Billy appeared to be unfazed by Jim's sudden appearance.

"The sound of my approach was masked by your endless chatter," the big man smirked, even as he ruffled the wildly tumbled curls affectionately before turning to the boy at Blair's side. "So, Kiddo, he hasn't quite talked your ears off yet. You two ready for breakfast?"

There was no response from the youngest member of their party, but Sandburg looked up at Ellison with gleaming eyes. "Oh, yeah. And maybe...just maybe...I'll get lucky and they'll have tea as well as coffee. I haven't had any tea in days. I knew I should have remembered to pack it myself."

"Hey, Chief, I said I was sorry. I honestly didn't mean to forget it. Tell you what, if the restaurant doesn't have any, we'll see if the store does, okay? I guess it's the least I can do," the Sentinel assured his companion as he steered them toward the saloon. "Jack told me this place has the best food in town."

As they approached the door, Billy stepped aside, as if to go into the alley between the saloon and the business next door, stopping when Blair laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, where're you going? Breakfast is in here," he pointed out quietly, ushering the boy in ahead of them with a frowning glance over his shoulder at Jim. "And you'll be expected to eat a hearty one, start putting some meat on your bones."

The food turned out to be as good as Jack had promised, and plentiful enough that all three were sated by the time the last dirty plate was cleared. Blair's concern that Billy would be a fussy eater was laid to rest as soon as the child realized he could have as much as he wanted. Obviously it had been a long time since the boy had been allowed enough food to satisfy his hunger, and more than once Jim had to admonish him to slow down lest he become make himself sick.

"You must have a hollow leg there, that's the only explanation for how much you can eat," the Sentinel teased the child, his sharp eyes picking out a faint hint of amusement on the small face. Pleased to see even that small indication of recovery, he turned his attention back to Blair, who had also eaten more than his usual quantity.

"I think with this meal in me I should be good to keep going until nightfall, make up some of the lost time," Ellison decided, sipping his coffee and settling back in his seat.

"Sounds fine to me," Sandburg agreed easily. "I'll spell you driving when I can, and something tells me our young friend here is going to nod off as soon as we get going."

"I think you may be right," Jim agreed before rising to pay the bill, leaving Blair to usher Billy outside again. "Okay, the wagon is at the sheriff's office, figured it would be safe enough there. Jack said he'd keep an eye on it."

The big man led the way to the somewhat ramshackle looking office that Sheriff Jack Pendergrast operated from. Their wagon and extra horses were tied in front, and Jack himself lounged in the chair on the porch, casually guarding the equipment.

"That's what I've always admired about you, Jack. You're always willing to take on the difficult assignments," Jim drawled as they approached.

"Now, James, what good does it do to be boss if I can't pick and choose my duties? That'd take all the fun out of it. May have to pay myself overtime for this one, I'm plumb tuckered out with all this guarding," he grinned unrepentantly as he stepped down to talk to them.

Jack stepped in front of Billy, then hunkered down so he was eye to eye with the boy, his normally cheerful face solemn. "Billy, can you tell me what happened to your pa? How you came to be with those fellas?"

Serious green eyes met Jack's brown ones with no expression whatsoever, and the sheriff realized he'd never seen eyes so lifeless and closed down. But, Jim, listening closely, heard the sudden increase in the child's heart rate and respiration, and wondered if it was grief or fear that brought out that response.

"Okay, I tell you what. You ever feel up to telling me, you just drop me a letter, okay? I remember your dad, he was a nice man, and I'd like to help him, and you, if I can. In the meantime, you be sure not to give Jim and Blair any trouble, they can usually find enough all on their own," he couldn't resist teasing, even as he settled a comforting hand on the narrow shoulder of the youth.

"Jim, soon as I hear anything, I'll be in touch. You be careful, hear me?" he said, shaking the Sentinel's hand firmly. "Blair, it was good to see you."

Watching the men settle the boy in the back of the wagon, then climb up on the seat themselves, Jack contemplated once again the mystery that was Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg. He'd first met Ellison years before, when the sullen and solitary man came to town alone, managing to draw trouble to himself with a minimum of words and actions. Jack managed to get through to the man enough to lay the foundation for a friendship that only began to truly flourish after the smaller, longhaired younger man joined Jim. Blair had warmed to Jack immediately, and despite his initial surprise at the younger man's appearance, Jack had reciprocated quickly. There were very few that could resist Blair J. Sandburg for long, though most were reluctant to admit it.

He watched the dust settle behind the departing wagon, then turned back to his office, already mentally composing the letters he wanted to send out to the other towns in the region regarding the two dead prisoners, and the missing apothecary.

Nightfall found the Sentinel and his companions in a densely wooded area near a briskly tumbling stream. Choosing a site with good natural protection that was easy to defend, they quickly set up camp, with Jim settling the horses down for the night and Blair laying out the bedding and getting dinner supplies ready. It several minutes before the two men realized that Billy was no longer on the wagon, a discovery that immediately upset Blair.

"Hang on, Chief. I would have noticed if someone had approached, let me see what I can hear before we get too panicked." The tall man stood motionlessly, a look of concentration on his face, his head slightly tilted in a gesture of listening, before the stern features relaxed and a slight hint of a smile creased the corners of his eyes.

"He's over there," Ellison announced with a gesture to the north of their camp. "He's not upset, not running, is alone. Let me go get him, I need to stress to him he's not to wander off from our camp, it's too dangerous. You know the kids respond better to me about things like that."

Blair snorted a little, but didn't argue. "Yeah, you scare them half to death," he grumbled, though his words lacked sting since both men knew it wasn't true. They both also knew that the children instinctively seemed to respond better to Jim's sternness than Blair's; consequently, when a matter of safety needed to be addressed, the older man almost always handled it.

"Oh, yeah, they're every bit as scared of me as you are," the former soldier retorted, cuffing the curly head as he strode toward the area where their wayward charge had wandered. Reminding himself that the boy had recently had more than a few frightening things happen to him, the Sentinel walked quietly toward the area where he'd heard the child, then stopped while still out of sight to watch his activities.

Billy was tugging at a partially buried piece of wood, obviously intending to add it to the small stack he'd already gathered. Jim couldn't help but smile at the youngster's determination, and was glad he'd decided to check out the situation rather than arrive scolding first and looking later. He couldn't really be angry at the kid for trying to help, even if he had given both him and Blair a few moment's worry.

"Hey, Kiddo, need a hand?" the big man asked in a pleasant tone as he entered the small clearing.

The small figure tensed up as if expecting a blow, moving instinctively to face Jim while unconsciously backing away from him. With his senses focused on the boy the Sentinel heard the heartbeat double as the small, pinched face paled in sudden fear.

"Hey, it's okay, Billy. I just thought maybe you needed some help," Ellison soothed him, smiling encouragingly, pleased when he sensed the heart beat decreasing. He reached out and tugged the piece of wood himself, grinning ruefully at Billy when it stayed firmly imbedded. "I don't think we're going to get this one. Why don't I give you a hand with the rest of this, okay? Blair will be pleased to have someone helping him with the wood gathering, I know. Can you grab those pieces?" Directing his young charge to the remaining stack of wood, he watched carefully as the thin boy gathered them up, then they headed back to camp together.

Once the wood was deposited, Jim hunkered down to eye level with Billy and laid a firm hand on the narrow shoulder. "Thank you for gathering this wood, it's nice that you're willing to help. But, we need you to do something for us, okay? Don't wander off alone again, not without letting us know. It's too dangerous for you out here alone, okay? Next time we can't find you or don't know where you've gone, you'll be in trouble." Jim kept his expression solemn, but not forbidding.

Very somber green eyes searched his face before Billy nodded, biting his lip in apparent consternation, a gesture Ellison took to mean the boy understood the seriousness of his words. Reaching out to ruffle the fine blond hair, Jim stood back up and turned to Blair, who was starting the fire.

"Looks like you have a new assistant here, Chief. It was Billy's idea to get the wood," he announced.

"Great! Hey, thanks Billy. I need help with that, since I always seem to find green or wet wood, at least according to Jim, here. Plus, it's pretty awkward trying to gather wood with an injured arm. You want to help me with dinner?"

A shy nod answered that question, and soon the small camp was filled with the savory fragrance of dinner cooking and the cheerful banter of the two adults. The mood stayed light through a filling dinner and quick cleanup, and almost as soon as the sun went completely down, Billy went to sleep in his makeshift bedroll after Blair treated his injuries.

"What'd Jack have to say about the guys you shot?" Blair asked softly as he and Jim nursed final cups of coffee around the dwindling campfire.

"He didn't know who they were, they didn't have any paperwork to identify them, and they matched several descriptions. He's going to send letters and pictures out to try and verify who they were, and if there was a reward in the offering," Jim reported.

"Pictures? He had a photographer take pictures of the bodies?" the younger man asked, intrigued by the idea.

"Yeah. Guess it's the newest thing to do when unidentified bodies are brought in. Jack says it's more reliable than written descriptions. The photographer said it was a growing part of their business, pretty easy money if you could stomach it." The former soldier shook his head in amazement, contemplating this new development.

"Not how I'd want to make a living," Blair noted with a small shudder. "And he's going to try and find out about Billy's dad?"

"Yeah. May take a while, but I know Jack; he's a bulldog when it comes to this sort of thing. He'll get to the bottom of it. In the meantime, we can help Billy get back on his feet," Ellison said with a softening of his expression when he glanced at the small blanket swaddled lump beyond the fire.

"It's amazing, he's already showing improvement. I mean, he's responded with at least a gesture of yes or no to direct questions, that's better than he was doing just yesterday," Blair agreed, then turned a puzzled look at his companion. "But, Jim, I'm curious. You seemed very...adamant...that Billy come with us. Why? I'm not objecting, mind you, but it's usually me who is pleading with you to keep a kid. What's up Big Guy?"

"I don't know, Chief. I just know when Serena mentioned an orphanage, everything inside me said 'no,' that we had to keep him with us, protect him. I've never felt that strongly before," he admitted.

"Wonder what that could mean," the younger man mused, speaking mostly to himself. "It can't be because he was abused, Tommy was also, and you nearly didn't take him. Rocky was injured, more severely than Billy is, and we almost left him in Lewiston. Kimberly was sick, and traumatized, and still we had a hard time deciding what to do about her. So, it's not just his situation." The former student fell silent for a few moments. "Must be a Sentinel thing."

"Oh, come on, Chief. That's your answer for anything you can't analyze. How can it possibly be a 'Sentinel thing?' Besides, you're the one who's always saying there's always room for one more," Jim pointed out in mild irritation.

"And that's still true, Jim, but I don't know," the smaller man said with a gesture of surrender. "It just seems that when things don't make any sense, it turns out to be because of your senses." Blair paused and considered what he'd just said. "Um, no pun intended."

Jim snorted in amused exasperation. "That was lame, even for you. Look, I haven't gotten any sleep in over a day, I'm going to turn in. You can unravel the mystery in the morning, Junior," Ellison announced, tossing out the dregs of his coffee as he stood up and stretched. Moments later the only sound in that small part of the forest was the muted crackle of the dying fire and the soft snores of the sleeping child.

An unknown time later Jim awoke with to the sensation of something being wrong, and his gaze turned immediately toward Blair's blanket wrapped figure, but the younger man was sleeping peacefully. Jim recognized the sound as an elevated heartbeat, and turned his attention toward Billy, who was twitching uneasily, obviously restless. Moving with silent haste to the child's side, he found the boy actually crying soundlessly in his sleep, tears glistening in the moonlight. Reaching out a gentle hand, he whispered assurances as he roused the boy from his dreams, but despite his care the child jerked awake in a panic, trying to escape the perceived 'attack.'

"Easy, Billy, easy. No one's going to hurt you," Jim crooned, helping the boy sit up and meeting the sleep muddled eyes with a small smile. "It's me, Jim. You're okay, it's just a bad dream," he continued, easing the small body back down and covering him warmly against the night chill. He carried on a steady stream of assurances, listening to the heartbeat slow toward normal, and the tension drain from the slight body. As he sat waiting for Billy to fall asleep again, he found himself remembering his first few weeks with Blair, and the younger man's occasional struggle with bad memories and bad dreams...

*** When Jim Ellison first set eyes on the young man who Tachopey said was his 'Guide' his first thought was **no way in hell**; the younger man was too nervous, too young, too damned odd to get along with James Ellison. Jim liked things neat, organized, predictable as much as possible, and at a glance something told him this 'Guide's' basic nature was not neat or organized or - god forbid - predictable. There was no obvious way the older man could discern this, it was something instinctual; as was the first reaction of 'get him away from me.' But neatly offsetting that was the simultaneous sensation of completion, of finding that which had eluded him for so many years. That empty place deep inside the Sentinel, which had sought blindly for his Guide, was finally appeased and filled with the heretofore unknown sense of peace. For the first time in memory the feeling of encroaching madness, as much a part of him as his blue eyes, was held at bay, and Ellison found himself perversely missing it.

Blair kept his eyes firmly on the ground as the large figure stalked around him; that one brief glance at the new arrival's eyes was enough to convince the young man it would be safer not to offer any sort of resistance to his inspection. The former slave fully expected to feel rough hands on his body at any moment, but after a single, agonizingly slow circuit, the big stranger stopped and spoke to Tachopey in a tone that only lightly masked his tight anger.

"What are you doing with this boy? It looks like he's seen some bad treatment," he all but growled at the shaman who regarded him placidly.

"Who are you calling a 'boy'?" Blair demanded before Tachopey could speak, turning angry blue eyes up at the large man.

Distracted, Jim turned his attention to the young man dressed in buckskins, his expression unconsciously softening. "Sorry, but you're what? Sixteen? Seventeen? I spoke hastily," he began, stopping uncertainly when Blair's temper visibly worsened.

"Sixteen! You think I'm sixteen?!?!? Jerk. I'll have you know I'm twenty-two, and a Harvard graduate student studying medicine. I've traveled all over the country, I'm not some greenhorn kid," Blair informed him angrily, forgetting his intimidation in the face of Jim's ill-advised comment.

"Well, excuse me for my mistake there, Chief. And obviously this is exactly where you intended to end up, right? You got this situation under control, huh?"

The student's mouth opened and closed several times as he tried to decide what to address first, finally deciding on the one thing that caught his attention the most. "That is not a very smart choice of nicknames to call anyone here, you know?" he said at last, an involuntary grin lighting up his face.

"Uh, yeah, I suppose not," the big man said with a sheepish look at Tachopey. "I meant no offense, it's just a name I use for people, sometimes." This encounter, already strange to begin with took on new dimensions when he found himself apologizing to the elderly Indian who still watched them with quiet amusement.

"There is no offense taken where none was intended, Sentinel," the old man smiled, even as Blair gasped in amazement.

"You're the Sentinel?" he turned to Tachopey with wide eyes. "He's the Sentinel? Why didn't you say so in the first place?"

"Your first meeting had to be allowed its own voice," the medicine man declared, unperturbed by either of the other two men's glares.

"Oh, man. I've been waiting and waiting for you! I was beginning to think Tachopey here was just pulling my leg, but you're real. This is just so...there's so much we need to learn...I don't even know where to start..." the younger man's earlier decorum was discarded in his excitement, and Jim found himself meeting Tachopey's amused look with one of his own.

This kid was going to be a handful; that much was certain.

"Okay, Jim, try to tell me what is in each of the bowls, just using your sense of smell," Blair instructed his blindfolded companion.

"Chief, this is ridiculous, what possible good will this do me, huh?" he groused, fidgeting on the folded blanket that served as his chair.

"Jim it's just sharpening your skill. Like...like...when you first learned to shoot a gun, you didn't hit the target at first try, did you? Of course not, you had to practice...to hone your skill. That's what you're doing here. Honing. Maybe someday you'll need to be able to differentiate between two different scents, and you'll be able to because you practiced this. I know it's boring, but if we finish these tests maybe we can go hunting, like you enjoy," the student wheedled.

"If I want to go hunting, I'll go hunting, and you're not likely to stop me," the Sentinel ground out, but he settled back down despite his protest, sighing in resignation.

The past week had been one of tremendous revelation to both the men, as Jim was introduced to the concept of what a Sentinel was, what he could do, and why he'd had those 'episodes' all his life. What he'd considered a curse on his existence was now recognized as a blessing and a gift, one he was beginning to at last appreciate and use.

The relief at finding out the 'madness' was not that at all was nearly overwhelming, and the comparative ease with which he accepted the idea of enhanced senses spoke eloquently of his former discomfort. He didn't actually like the testing or the practice sessions, but the soldier in him recognized the necessity, so he rarely resisted. And he proved to be a very apt pupil, learning techniques quickly, obviously accustomed to tuning in to his own thoughts. Not surprising considering the solitary life he'd led for the most part.

Blair Sandburg was the other thing Ellison had to adjust to, and that was also proving to be much easier than he'd anticipated. The student was, as he'd appeared at first glance, nearly a perfect opposite of the Sentinel; yet Jim had never known the kind of peace before as he found in the smaller man's presence. When he went into one of his blank spells, where the world faded away completely, Sandburg was the one who could call him back within moments, rather than the hours it could take before. The younger man called those episodes 'zone outs' for reasons that escaped Jim, but soon he found himself calling them that as well. Within the first three days with Blair, Ellison discovered he could hear, and recognize, the Guide's heartbeat, regardless of any other sounds around. He was tasting more different flavors, smelling a wider variety of fragrances, seeing further, hearing better, feeling more than he'd ever experienced in the past. It no longer frightened or worried him; he accepted it as natural and normal for him, and he reveled in the new sensations.

However, perversely, he was not about to tell Tachopey nor Blair that, so he put up token protests to protect his sense of self, which the other two pretended to bow to even as they found ways to circumvent the bigger man's protests. It was a complex bit of manipulation that quietly amused the student and future shaman.

Of course, Jim was not the only one in training, the tests served a dual purpose, allowing the Guide to learn to deal with situations that could arise from the use of the Sentinel's hyper senses. Learning when to let Jim stretch, and when to pull him back, was vital to their safety, and Blair was every bit as quick a study as Jim was in that respect.

Their days were not just filled with tests, but with simple daily activities and chores, which the two men did together for the most part. Tachopey watched them quietly, noticing how they had quickly fallen into a routine, each doing those tasks that best suited their abilities. Jim's strength was useful in chopping wood, he could carry more water than his smaller companion, he was better at working with the horses, and a skilled hunter. Blair was the better cook, his tanning skills were considerable, and he was their interpreter since Jim didn't speak Yojave and the rest of the tribe didn't speak English. Neither Jim nor Blair seemed conscious of their growing friendship and interdependence, but the elderly medicine man observed it with a satisfied smile, knowing that was more important to their future as Sentinel and Guide than any test they could dream up.

"Okay, Sandburg, I've done all the tests I can handle today, it's time for some hunting, fishing, something other than smelling those godawful concoctions you come up with. I'm beginning to think this is all some elaborate scheme of yours to get out of having to cook anymore," Jim decided, standing and stretching restlessly.

"Oh, darn, you caught on to my clever plan," Blair smirked, ducking the playful swat aimed at his head, his blue eyes dancing with mirth.

Jim was fond of the challenge of hunting with bow and arrow, though what he enjoyed most of all was the chance to walk through the wide open wilderness, soaking in its peaceful calm after the squalor of the last few years fighting a war that neither side really won, once all was said and done.

His companion seemed content to remain relatively quiet during these excursions, keeping his own thoughts to himself as he paced beside the taller man. This particular day was especially warm, and it wasn't long before the two were looking for some shade along the creek they were paralleling. Finding a grassy spot under a stand of weathered trees they hunkered down to satisfy their thirst, using their cupped hands to scoop up the sparkling water.

"Oh, man, that feels good," Blair grinned, wiping his wet hands on his flushed face.

"Really? Then this should feel even better," Jim replied, scooping a handful of water at the former student's face.

That was enough to start a small water war, the two men indulging in a rare bit of silliness in the secluded location, their mock threats wafting over the open land without encountering any listeners save a few disinterested critters. A truce was called when both were thoroughly drenched, and they stumbled over to sit at the base of the trees, still chuckling at each other in good-natured companionship. Stripping to the waist to enjoy a cooling breeze, Jim turned to Blair with a curious look.

"Wouldn't it be more comfortable to take off that shirt and let it dry?" he asked, indicating the water soaked buckskin.

"I'm fine, Jim," Sandburg replied, even as he picked restlessly at the damp material, disliking the feel of it against his skin. Finally deciding he was being ridiculous, he pulled off the shirt, feeling Jim's eyes on the scars that decorated his back.

"Bold Hawk did that to you?" the Sentinel asked in a deadly calm voice.

"Yeah. It's no big deal, all over and done with before I even met you," the younger man assured his companion.

"I've got to tell you, Chief, I hope I get a chance to meet him someday," the big man ground out, his hands clenched in his lap to keep them still.

"Oh, yeah, that's just what I'd like to see; you and Bold Hawk going at each other," Blair said with heavy sarcasm. "Forget it, Jim. It's not worth the effort. Now, are you hunting or are you sleeping under the trees. Dinner is not just going to come hop in your lap asking you to kill it, you know."

"That seems rather unfair," Ellison observed, showing no signs of moving. "Why don't you go chase something my way, huh?"

"Oh, no, no. YOU are the hunter. I am the cooker. Go. Hunt. I'll rest until dinnertime," he smirked, laughing outright when Jim stood up grumbling about mouthy Guides and non-hunters in general.

"No, God, no, not again. Please! No..."

The hoarse voice awoke the sleeping Sentinel, and he looked around for the source of the disturbance, focusing on the thrashing figure of his young Guide. Moving with stealthy speed to the distraught sleeper, he reached out gentle hands to carefully shake the smaller man to wakefulness. The former student awoke with a strangled cry, his eyes wild as he tried to escape Jim's hold, still driven by the terrors in his dream.

"Whoa, Chief, it's okay. It's me, Jim. You're okay, Buddy, it's just a dream. Settle down here, it's okay," he soothed his agitated companion, speaking as if to a spooked horse.

"Jim? Jim...sorry, man. It was just a dream, it's fine. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you, you can go back to sleep now, I'll be quiet..." the younger man rambled, obviously still not fully aware.

"Chief, settle down. Take a couple of deep breaths, come on, you need to calm down. Another one. Okay, feeling a little better?" he asked, still not relinquishing his hold.

"Yeah. Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Sorry. Ah...it's been a while since I had one that bad. Sorry, didn't mean to wake you up."

"For God's sake, Chief, quit apologizing. Just settle back here and give yourself a chance to calm down. What were you dreaming about? Was it a dream or a memory?" he queried gently, finally relinquishing his hold but sitting down at the younger man's side.

"It was kind of both, actually," Blair admitted, releasing a deep sigh. "I can't believe it still has the power to upset me that much."

"Tell me about it?" Jim half asked, half demanded.

"It was...they...the Apache tribe that had me...they captured a white man who'd shot a couple of braves. Oh, man, they...they tortured him, you know?" The young man shuddered at the memory, pausing in his story to calm himself again. "It went on for hours, by the end he couldn't even scream any more. He was a big, tough guy, but they had him screaming like a girl, begging them to stop. Bold Hawk made me watch it all, until the guy finally died, his mouth still opened in a scream he didn't have any voice left for. The air reeked of blood and burnt flesh and waste and I couldn't sleep for days because every time I closed my eyes I saw him. Then I started dreaming about him, then in the dreams it was me they were torturing, and the whole tribe was laughing while I cried for mercy. I hadn't been there very long when this all happened, it's been nearly a year, and I thought I was finished with the dreams. But I guess not."

"I'm sorry, Blair," Ellison said softly, settling a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder.

The former slave ran still trembling hands over his face. "You know the really awful part? I don't even know the guy's name, I have no idea who he was, what he was. He might have been a rancher defending his family, or a delivery rider, or a heartless murderer. But in the end, I felt sorry for him; whatever or whoever her might have been, he didn't deserve what they did to him, and Bold Hawk kept threatening to do the same to me if I stepped out of line. It was a very effective deterrent, that's for sure."

"I imagine it was. Look, Chief, I just want you to remember something. You're safe now. And I'm not going to let anything happen to you, Bold Hawk and the Apache tribe won't be hurting you ever again, you have my word on that. I'll make sure you're safe. Why don't you see if you can get a little more sleep, okay? I'll just stay here in case you start dreaming again," the big man decided, pulling the blanket up over Blair's shoulders against the night chill.

On the other side of the lodge, Tachopey closed his eyes in satisfaction, pleased at the progression of the relationship between Sentinel and Guide...***

Ellison's original plan was to reach Portland that second day, which would actually put them a day ahead of schedule, but the rough terrain they'd encountered had different ideas, apparently. It was just a couple of hours into the day when the right rear axle broke, jolting all the equipment and nearly sending several pieces off the end of the wagon.

"Ah, damn," Jim growled in disgust, looking over the damage with a critical eye. "Come on, Chief, and help me unload most of this stuff, we're going to have to brace it up and replace this piece. It'll take me a while to fashion the part I need, so you might as well see if you can catch some fresh fish for dinner at least. Why don't you unhitch the horses and let them graze, too."

It was a busy half-day for them as Jim repaired the damaged axle, and Blair did assorted chores that they usually didn't have time for, including some laundry and bathing. By the time Ellison had finished he was hot and filthy; it took little persuasion to get him to take a quick bath before setting out again.

As a consequence of their mishap, they ended up spending another night on the road, this time in a less desirable location, near a cliff, which necessitated more care with the horses. Nevertheless, it was quiet and peaceful, and the evening passed pleasantly. Still recovering from his ordeal, Billy again went to sleep early, leaving the two men to their quiet contemplation of the fire.

"I figure we'll reach Portland by noon or earlier tomorrow. You agree?" Blair asked softly after a lengthy silence. When he received no answer, the Guide turned toward his Sentinel, shocked to see the motionless stance and unblinking stare of a zone out.

"Geez, Jim," he gasped, then shifted so he was directly in front of the larger man and began running his hands up and down the powerful arms. "Come on back, Jim. Come one, follow my voice, follow my touch. You went too far, Jim, you need to come back now." His steady, calming tone reached his Sentinel quickly, and a few moments later the light blue eyes blinked then focused on the Guide's darker ones.

"Damn. I almost had it, it was just too far."

"What? What did you almost have?" Blair asked.

"Probably just other travelers, it's not like this is an untraveled area. But there was...something. Something that...I don't know...I recognized? I just couldn't hear it well enough to pin it down. Oh, well, at any rate they were far behind us, and probably sitting around a campfire too; at least they weren't moving. We should get some sleep, Chief. It's going to be a long day tomorrow."

"Yeah. Can't say I'll be sorry to get rid of this stuff, anyway. It'll be good to head home; I miss the kids. And I'm looking forward to introducing Billy to them. Did he sound distressed at all when I was telling him about them?"

"Not at all. For all he's been through, he seems a pretty calm little guy, probably well used to adapting to different situations. Now settle down and go to sleep. Some of us are tired, you know," the big man groused affectionately.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sleeping, I'm sleeping. Geez, bossy Sentinel," was the snickering reply that the older man refused to even dignify with an answer.

Whether it was the extra physical activity and stress of the day, or the recent lack of uninterrupted sleep, Ellison was never sure. But in the end it didn't much matter, the facts remained the same; the Sentinel fell into a sleep so deep his senses didn't warn him of approaching danger until it was almost too late. He snapped awake, instantly alert, hearing the muted drumming of several heartbeats converging upon their campsite from the dense woods surrounding them. The big man hastened out of his bedroll, grabbing his pistol and rifle even as he reached out to lay his hand across Sandburg's mouth in preparation for waking him.

"Shh, Chief, not a word. Get up, quietly," he hissed at the younger man, before repeating the procedure on Billy, helping the youngster up and over to Blair's side. Grabbing his guns again he silently herded his younger charges into the brush, toward the cliff, the only area where he did not hear an approaching heartbeat.

They made good their escape not a moment too soon, as less than a minute later four men stood around the remains of the campfire, kicking at the scattered bedding in irritation.

"Where the hell are they?" The apparent leader demanded, kicking the nearly empty coffee pot, ricocheting it off a nearby tree in a thin spray of cold coffee.

"Jest calm down, Louie, they ain't gone far; their horses and wagon are still here. They musta lit out toward the cliff, that's the only way we wasn't coming from. Jest you're your shirt on, we'll get them," said the oldest man in their group, a grizzled outdoorsman who had at least twenty years on any of the other three.

"It's 'most enough light to track 'em, Pa. Then it'll be like shooting sittin' ducks on the pond, right?" asked the youngest one, who appeared to be just a year or two out of boyhood-at least physically. There was a distinct lack of maturity in the young man's eyes and manner that was somehow more chilling than his father's scarcely disguised menace.

"Chance, you're jest tellin' me what I already know; why don't ya keep your fool mouth shut lessen you have something useful to say. Now, what I don't know is why there is three of them. Din't you say there was jest two?" the older man demanded.

"That's all we seen, Unc' Cal, I swar it. Jest the big guy what shot Lance and Lenny, and the little one what Lenny knifed. Them's all there was, right Lance?" the leader asked his younger brother whose right arm was still supported by a sling from their first encounter with Ellison and Sandburg.

"Yessir, Unc' Cal," the younger sibling agreed, not meeting his uncle's angry eyes. He was currently in disgrace with his family for throwing down his gun after Ellison had killed Lenny and knocked Louie out. He had counted them as luck to escape with only Lenny being killed, considering the obvious skill of the man who had followed them to retrieve his wagon. With his own injury bleeding freely, and Louie unconscious, Lance had taken the only recourse he had available; surprised and grateful when the big man had let them off lightly by tying them up on their horses but turning them loose otherwise.

It was fortunate that their Uncle Cal had been the one to find them; the older man and his son had been planning to meet the brothers to help escort the equipment to their 'employer'. A quick burial of the unfortunate Lenny and some rough frontier doctoring of Louie and Lance's injuries, and the four kinsmen set out after the man who they 'owed a right proper killing to,' as Cal put it.

Not far from the camp, hidden by the thick foliage and near darkness, the Sentinel listened to the conversation in their erstwhile camp with growing anger; both at the men who dared to attack them yet again and himself, for not paying more attention the night before and for showing them any mercy in the first place.

"What's going on?" Blair asked in an urgent whisper, well aware his friend would have his senses dialed up.

The bigger man held up a hand to forestall any further questions, his head still cocked in the listening position. He remained that way for a minute or two, then turned to his two companions with an unhappy sigh. "It's those idiots who tried to steal the wagon the other night," he explained softly.

"The ones who knifed me?"

"Yep. Turns out they're brothers, and they're back for revenge with their uncle and a cousin, sounds like. Come on, Chief, we've got to find a defensible position, this isn't any good," Jim instructed him after a quick look around.

"Why don't we just take off, they got what they wanted, right? Take off and get some help and go after them?" Blair wondered.

"Blair, I killed their brother, they aren't going to be satisfied with just getting the wagon. They don't even care about that anymore, they want blood. My blood. Your blood. I doubt it matters to them. And look at us, we aren't equipped to walk out of here; insufficient clothing, no supplies, Billy doesn't even have shoes on. No, we need to prepare to fight, but we have advantages they don't know about, right? And I remembered to grab the extra ammo, we'll be okay if we find a good location. So move it out, Chief, they're already starting to look for us, we're out of time to debate." Ellison reached out and took Billy from Blair as he spoke, handing the curly haired man the rifle instead and ushering him forward.

It wasn't easy for the younger man to traverse the wilderness in the near darkness before dawn, but Jim kept him on the right track, having already decided some rocky outcroppings very near the edge of the cliff would be the best choice, given their limited options. Finding a well protected niche, he placed Billy in it, kneeling down and tilting the boy's head back so he could see the child's eyes.

"I want you to say right here, understand? Last time there was a gunfight, you ran off; I don't want you to even think of trying that. They're going to try to surround us, there's no place safe for you to run to. You stay right here. Do you understand me?" He stared sternly at the boy, his entire demeanor demanding an answer.

Billy nodded, huddling back a bit further as if to prove his sincerely, and Jim squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "You'll be okay," he assured the youngster, before rising up to join Blair.

"Can you hear them, Jim?" the Guide asked softly, looking up at the older man.

Jim unconsciously tilted his head, listening, then frowned. "They're trying to get around us, must have seen our tracks and figured out where we'd be. One's over near the edge, two in front, near that rock outcropping, and one is trying to make it behind us. Looks like it's time to make out stand. You handle the rifle, and remember, don't shoot unless you're sure." Jim hated when Blair had to be involved in a gunfight, the younger man always fought diligently, but afterward he'd struggle with guilt over using potentially lethal force.

"Who do you want me to go for?" Sandburg asked calmly.

"The one by the cliff. And take it easy, Chief, it's a long way to the bottom."

"Oh, gee, thanks, Jim. I feel so much better now. You know how much I love high places," Blair groused.

"You don't have anything to worry about, just make sure he doesn't sneak up on us. You'll do fine," the former soldier assured his younger counterpart, then he turned his attention again to the other three. "Those two in front have good position, they'll be hard to get rid of, will keep us tied down," the Sentinel mumbled just before the first volley of shots rang out. They were all high, and to the left, obviously intending to establish their position. Jim motioned Blair to move away some, then returned fire, just enough to let them know that they were not defenseless. Blair found himself studying the positioning of the two men to their front, something was nagging at the back of his mind, and it was several minutes and a few rounds of gunfire before it finally clicked.

"Jim! Jim, I got an idea," he called out softly enough so the others wouldn't hear, but loud enough to catch Ellison's attention.

The older man looked over at the former student with raised eyebrows, clearly requesting an explanation. "Look at the rocks behind them, Jim. Aim for them, maybe you can catch them in the ricochet. It's worth a try anyway, they're pinning us down here, I can't do anything about this guy over here if I'm worrying about them shooting at me."

The Sentinel's eyes lit up in understanding, and with a quick grin at his companion suited action to idea and fired at the rocks behind the two men. Even Sandburg could hear the men's sudden shrieks of surprise and pain, and when one leapt up in an attempt to escape, Jim took him out with one clean shot. Pausing, the big man concentrated his hearing, quickly picking out the now stuttering heartbeat of the other man. It was weak, uneven, and slowing even as he listened, leaving no doubt in Jim's mind that the second man was mortally wounded. He dialed his hearing back down, and signaled to his partner that they were clear to pursue the two remaining gunmen.

Seeing Sandburg duck down to track the young man trying to approach from the cliff edge, Ellison turned his own attention to the one he suspected was the 'uncle' he'd heard them talking to at the campsite. The man was older, more cautious, and way more dangerous than the younger ones, and Jim was too experienced to ignore that fact.

Using his senses to his advantage, Jim decided to circle around and turn the hunter into the hunted, take control of the situation once and for all. He maneuvered carefully to a position behind the older man, readying himself to give the man at least a fair chance to give up. But the former soldier had not reckoned on the instincts that decades of living in the wilderness, far from any civilization, had instilled in his opponent. As he stood up to confront Cal, the older man turned with the deadly grace of a rattlesnake and snapped off a shot at Ellison. The Sentinel returned fire, his bullet striking the man dead center in the forehead even as Cal's bullet ripped a path of fire through Jim's right shoulder, throwing him roughly to the ground.

Jim had barely managed to sit up, fighting nausea and shock, when he heard gunshots from the area Blair had been covering, and sparing only a brief glance at the clearly dead Cal, the Sentinel hurried as much as he could to the aid of his Guide. Moving quickly among the rocks, he used his superior sight and hearing to locate his besieged friend, who'd managed to be driven nearer the edge of the drop-off. Locating the aggressor, Jim recognized the one he'd knocked unconscious the other night, and the older man experienced a fleeting regret that he'd not killed the idiot when he'd had the chance.

"Stop right where you are!" Ellison called out, standing up and drawing a steady bead on the last of their attackers. "You're alone, now, give it up, you've got nowhere to go."

Louie glanced at Ellison, realizing he had no recourse, and at the smaller man in front of him, standing between a large boulder and the cliff, partially obscured from his sight, and made the final decision of his wasted life.

He fired at Sandburg.

The bullet hit the boulder very near the young man's head, causing him to stumble back, tripping, then tumbling over the edge with a cry of terror. Louie never even knew his target went over the edge, the bullet from the Sentinel's gun ended his life before he had the chance.

"Blair!" Jim raced to the place his best friend had last stood, and looked over the edge with his heart in his throat, dreading the expected sight of the twisted, broken body lying amongst the scattered boulders at the bottom. He was shocked to find himself looking into two wide, terrified blue eyes fifteen feet below the edge.

Sandburg had managed to grab a protruding shrub, to which he still clung with desperate tenacity, his toes positioned on nearly nonexistent ledges to help keep him steady.

"Jesus, Chief, just hold on. I'll get the rope from camp, just hold on and don't look down!" he said, his own wound forgotten in his fear for his Guide.

"Hurry, Jim, I don't know how long this plant will hold," the smaller man gasped out, fixing his friend with a pleading look.

Jim didn't bother to reply, simply stood and raced back toward their campsite, knowing there was a good coil of rope there he could use to rescue Blair. He knew his younger companion had to be nearly beside himself with terror; Sandburg was afraid of heights, had been since childhood according to him. Having to climb a tree made him nervous and fretful; hanging precariously over a certainly fatal drop had to be pushing his limits.

Ellison grabbed the rope and hurried back, remembering their other companion as he neared the edge. "Billy! Billy, it's safe to come out, and I could use some help! Over by the edge, be CAREFUL!" he called out loudly, hoping the boy had obeyed him and stayed put.

"Jim, is he okay?" Blair's voice drifted up to the Sentinel, sounding more strained than it had only moments before.

"Yeah, Blair, he's fine," he assured his friend, hoping it was the truth. "I'm going to lower a rope to you, I need you to put your hand through the loop, then grab on above the knot, okay?" he instructed as he finished the slipknot.

Standing near the edge, the big man carefully lowered the loop, bringing it as close to Sandburg's hands as possible, then bracing himself. "Okay, Chief, I want you to reach over - SLOWLY - with one hand and take the rope. That's it, Buddy, put your hand through it, grab the rope above it. Perfect! Keep holding on to the bush, okay, while I set this up to pull you up. Just keep a good grip on everything just as you have it," Jim continued to reassure him as he backed up, keeping the rope running behind his back, just in case. He was looking around for the best spot to work from to establish a pulley-type setup when he heard Blair cry out his name as the rope tightened around him, yanking him off his feet. A few feet slid through his hand, burning wretchedly before he was able to stop it using a combination of his weakened right hand and trapping the rope between his body and the nearest large rock.

"Blair! Blair, are you okay?" Ellison called out anxiously. He could hear the frantic gasping breaths, the thundering pulse.

"Oh, God...Oh, God...Oh, God..." Blair's voice was hoarse and soft as it repeated the same words over and over, mindless of his Sentinel's calling.

"Just hang in there, Blair. I'll get us out of this," Jim called out, not sure how he could get them out of this, but absolutely certain he would. A slight noise caught his attention and he looked up to see Billy's worried face looking down at him. Relieved the boy was unharmed, the big man was also struck with an idea that might work.

"Billy, you are just who I wanted to see. Can you find one of the theive's horses, and bring it here? Be very careful, but I need a horse with its saddle on. And hurry, okay? Will you do that for me?" He spoke encouragingly and was rewarded with a timid nod before the boy turned away on his errand.

"It'll be just a few minutes, Buddy, we'll have you out of there," Jim called out, wanting to reassure the now silent Sandburg.

"Thanks, Jim," came the soft reply and Ellison mentally urged Billy to hurry; Blair didn't sound good at all.

Gritting his teeth against the pain in his wounded shoulder and rope burned hand, he forced himself to remain alert, sternly reminding himself he could collapse later if need be. But first he had to assure his guide was safe, that was the more important consideration.

Startled out of his thoughts by the arrival of Billy with a fully saddled horse, Jim looked over the beast appraisingly. She was very tall, well made with a powerful looking chest, but a calm eye and manner, apparently not nervous near the drop-off. Billy handled the animal with confident ease, obviously well trained at some point in his young life.

"Billy, I need for you to take this extra length of rope and wrap it around the saddle horn and tie it off securely, okay? Then we're going to see if we can convince his big girl to help pull Blair back up. Take it nice and slow, make sure the saddle is secure, and the horse in under control at all times. That's a boy," Jim instructed the youngster.

It took only a moment to realize there were going to be some problems; the first one being Billy was too short to reach the saddle horn in such a way that didn't spook the horse. Before Jim could make a suggestion the youngster climbed up on the rock Jim was braced against and clambered up onto the saddle, reins and rope in hand. He made quick work of tying off the rope, carefully checked around him for the best path, then began to slowly back the horse up, his small, still bare, feet kicking the horse into moving.

"Excellent, Billy. Blair! We're going to be pulling you up, now. Just hang on! Let us do the work, you just concentrate on holding on to the rope. We'll try not to jerk you too much, but I can't promise anything. Just a couple of minutes more, Chief, and it'll be over." Already the excess slack between Jim and the horse had been taken up, and the Sentinel rolled away from the rock, releasing the trapped rope, then his remaining handhold.

Billy continued backing the horse up as Jim steadied the rope at the edge. Moments later he reached down and grabbed Blair's free hand, helping his shaky friend away from the edge, before both of them collapsed in relief.

"Oh, man, I'm sorry, Jim. But that...that..." Words failed the younger man as tremors wracked his body. The Sentinel held him close and gently removed the rope from his Guide's right wrist, carefully examining the bleeding lacerations.

"It's okay, Blair. I understand, Buddy, I do. You're okay now, it's over. I think you got away with just some loss of skin here, I don't feel any broken bones. Can you move your wrist and hand okay?" he asked, manipulating the injured limb himself.

"Yeah, it's fine," the younger man asserted, looking up at Jim for the first time. "Oh, Jesus, Jim, you're shot! Come on, we got to get back to camp and take care of that! What the hell are you fussing over my wrist for?!"

Taken aback by his friend's sudden explosion, Jim allowed himself to be assisted to his feet, leaning on his Guide as he found he was much weaker than he'd expected as the adrenalin rush wore off. Blair continued to fuss at Jim as he helped him to the campsite and back down on his discarded bedroll. Pulling a canvas bag out from under the wagon seat, Sandburg instructed his patient to take off his shirt while he stoked back up the fire and put some water on to heat.

Billy had followed them back to camp with the horse, quietly getting the water Blair had requested, then stepping back to wait until needed again. Sandburg neatly laid out the contents of the bag: medical supplies and instruments from his days as a medical student.

"Dial it down, Jim. Way down. I need to get that bullet out, there's no reason for you to suffer. Take it to 'one', at least, but no lower. Good," he said when he saw the lines of pain relax on his friend's face. The next few minutes were unpleasant for both Sentinel and Guide as Blair probed the wound before finally locating, and extracting, the bullet. With a sigh of relief, he cleaned the wound and bandaged it tightly, fashioning a sling to protect it from unnecessary movement.

"Should heal up just fine, as long as we keep it clean. Another scar to wow the ladies with, Big Guy," Blair teased him gently as he bandaged Jim's other hand, where the rope had removed a thick strip of skin. "How's it feel?"

"I've still got the dial down, it's fine. Where's Billy?" the older man wondered, looking around.

"He wouldn't have gone far, Jim. Ah, there he is. What'd you do, turn down your hearing too?" Blair asked with a smirk.

"Very funny, Junior. Why don't you give him a hand with those horses? And we'll need to go gather up the bodies, take them into town with us."

It was a busy morning for all of them, it took a joint effort between all three to get the bodies loaded on their horses, get the team in the harness, and everything packed back up. Jim was woozy and weak from his injury and resultant blood loss, Blair's right wrist was sore and his left arm still weak from the knife wound. Billy proved to be a very capable assistant to both of them; good at following orders and handling the stock. At long last they had the four horses, each packing a body, tied to the back of the wagon, and everything secured for travel.

Billy had doused the fire and tied the bucket back on the wagon when Jim came up behind him.

"Billy? I just want to tell you that you did good this morning. You followed orders, kept calm, did an all around good job helping get Blair off that cliff and breaking camp now. Thank you, Son, I'm proud of you." He reached out and used his good arm to draw the boy into a rough hug, feeling the thin arms wrap shyly around his waist. The Sentinel ran a large hand over the boy's fine blond hair and rubbed the narrow shoulders affectionately.

"Come on, Kiddo, time to load up and head out, right Chief?"

"Right. So, Jim, does this mean I get to drive?"

"Not a chance in hell, Junior."

Portland was a growing, bustling, self-important town that for some reason Jim Ellison had never much liked. Consequently his mood darkened a little as they rolled down the main street, drawing curious stares and gasps from the townsfolk. Locating the sheriff's office, Jim left Blair and Billy at the wagon and went in to explain the situation to the local lawman.

Much to Jim's surprise, old Ambrose Calloway had finally retired, oddly enough replaced by a man who appeared to be almost as old as his predecessor. Since Jim had never gotten on well with Calloway, he figured the change had to be an improvement.

"Name's Teaspoon Hunter, used to run the Pony Express way station at Sweetwater, back before the Civil War and the telegraph changed everything. Did some sherrifing after that, and when ole Ambrose decided to step down, he recollected me and recommended me for the job. And the folks here seem to have taken a shine to my...er...charm," the grizzled man said with a disarming grin in response to Jim's introduction.

Jim couldn't help but chuckle at that; truth to tell, the old fellow did have an unreasonable amount of rough charm, and Ellison found himself liking him, much the same way he'd taken to Jack Pendergrast at first meeting. It was a good sign, as far as Jim was concerned, he trusted his instincts about people.

"Now, what can I do for you, Mr. Ellison?"

The Sentinel gave Sheriff Hunter a quick rundown of the events that ended with four bodies being brought to his doorstep, then led the way outside to where Blair stood waiting by the wagon.

"Well, then, you must be Mr. Sandburg," Hunter said with a grin, reaching out to shake the younger man's hand. Billy's curious face peeked over the side and Teaspoon's smile got impossibly wider. "And let me guess, you must be Billy. I had me a 'Billy' among my last group of riders, mouthy little cuss but one hell of a rider and a crack shot with a rifle. Nice to meet you, Son. Now let's take a look at our newest residents of boot hill."

"Hey, Teaspoon, what have we got here?" a new voice asked, getting the three men's attention. The speaker was a young man with obvious Indian heritage, his long dark hair held back in a loose ponytail, his dark brown eyes alight with intelligence and curiosity.

"Just checking that out now, Buck. Gentlemen, this is Buck Cross, one of my former riders, the only one crazy enough to follow me out here. This here's Mr. Jim Ellison and Mr. Blair Sandburg, of Cascade, Washington," Teaspoon said in a grand manner.

"Please, just Jim and Blair," Blair said easily, smiling at the sheriff's grand introduction.

"Okay, then. Now, let's see what we have here. Oh, boy, nice shot, Jim. Damn, this one looks familiar. Buck, you recognize this one?" All humor had faded from the sheriff's eyes as he turned to his deputy.

"One of those wanted posters you got a few weeks ago. Franklin...Ferguson...Ferguson! That's it. Ferguson," Buck replied looking up with a frown. "They're supposed to be near the California border, I thought."

"They've been following us for at least three or more days," Jim added.

"Buck, go over to the White Elk Saloon, see if Percy's there and semi sober. He's hails from that neck of the woods, he might recognize these fellas. Meet us over at Johnson's," Teaspoon directed Buck, then turned toward Jim and Blair.

"Come on, let's get these guys to the undertaker. Hopefully Percy will know who they are, but one way or another they'll end up there anyway."

As they walked along Jim turned to the older man. "I heard them talking, before the gunfight broke out, I heard the names 'Cal', 'Chance', 'Louie' and 'Lance.' I think they referred to the one I killed the first time as 'Lenny.' That's what it sounded like, anyway. If that helps."

"It might. Hey, Johnson, got some customers for you. Want to have your boys untruss them here, we're bringing Percy over to look at them, if that's okay with you," Teaspoon announced to the burly man who came out to meet them.

"If it don't bother them, it don't bother me," the big man joked, guffawing at his own weak attempt at humor. By the time Buck arrived with the slightly unsteady Percy, all four bodies were laid out and discreetly covered with sheets.

"Lessee what ya got here, Sheff," the little man slurred, walking in with excess caution. "Buck thins I may know 'em."

Wordlessly Teaspoon pulled back the sheet covering Cal, and Percy jumped back in surprise.

"Cripes! That there's Cal Ferguson. He's one mean sumbitch. Damn. Who else you got unner there?" Five minutes later the slightly green tinged Percy left Johnson's, having identified all four of the dead men as members of the infamous Ferguson family.

Back in his office, Teaspoon did some checking, then turned regretful eyes to Jim and Blair. "Seems there's no reward out on them, they're wanted, but not enough to warrant a reward I guess. Tell you what, though, you keep the horses and tack the fellas had, you can probably get a few dollars for the animals at least. Wish I could do more, but that's all I can offer," he said.

"That's fine, thanks for your help, Sheriff. It was a pleasure meeting you. Come on, Chief, let's see if we can find Clancy and get this stuff dropped off," Jim decided, herding the younger man out of the sheriff's office. They quickly secured the extra horses and headed toward the docks, anxious to get free of the responsibility of this equipment.

The docks were even busier than the main street area, the shouts of the rough men who worked the boats permeating the air. Using his Sentinel hearing to focus in on Clancy's uniquely accented voice, they soon found the right ship and were greeted as long lost friends by the effusive captain.

"You boys did it, didn't you? Made it through okay? Oh, thanks to the heavens, the boys have all been so antsy about it. Let me get some of the lads to unload that, get it secured before there's any trouble about it, you know? Come, have a quick drink, and I'll get ye the rest your pay," he offered grandly, obviously happy for any excuse to have a drink.

"Ah, no thanks, Clancy, we'll just get our gear off the wagon. You're taking the whole thing, right? We're kind of ready to get heading home, it's been a long trip," Jim explained, frankly ready to find somewhere quiet and peaceful and sleep for a day or ten.

"Well, let me go get your pay, I'll meet you at the wagon. Tell my lads I said for them to help you in any way you need, I come down there and find you two trying to lift things I'm going to be one mad captain, I can guarantee you that. Get yourself moving now, I'll be right there," Clancy directed them before turning and shouting to some of his crew to assist with the wagon.

It was quick work to unhitch the horses and saddle them back up, distributing the bedrolls and gear between them. Clancy was good as his word, arriving on the dock a short time later with a pouch containing the rest of their payment.

"Hey, I thought they said you didn't bring any of the young'uns along on this trip," the captain asked, spying Billy, now mounted on one of the spare horses.

"We didn't. We picked up Billy along the way," Blair explained.

"Well then, Lad," he said, addressing the youngster, "you're future has just gotten much better. Good luck to ye all. Don't be strangers, fellas. Seattle isn't that far away, you know."

"We know, Clancy. Be seeing you, give our regards to Aaron and the Bolts," Jim said as he turned his horse away, glad to be riding again after days of driving the wagon. Their first stop was the livery stable, where they planned to sell two of the four horses that constituted their 'reward.'

The big mare that Billy had used to help pull Blair up the cliff was one of the 'keepers;' now saddled with the smallest of the saddles it was serving as the boy's mount, despite being taller than the other horses. The other mare they kept was rigged up with a harness for carrying supplies, freeing the rest of the mounts from some of their burdens. While Jim negotiated with the stableman, Blair and Billy went to the store for some supplies for the ride home, including the tea Blair was craving.

Wandering around the shop, knowing it would take Jim some time to finish up at the stable, Blair found himself checking out some of the more obscure displays the shopkeeper had in the odd corners. His attention was caught by some brightly decorated bowls, very similar to the ones Tachopey had used. Very similar to the one he was filling with fresh, young asparagus shoots the day Bold Hawk came back into his life...

***Blair shifted the bowl to his left hand as he reached out to carefully break off the young asparagus stalk near the base. He'd found Jim and Tachopey both liked the flavorful vegetable, and though it was a tedious task finding enough to make a meal, he didn't mind too much. Jim was back in the village helping Tachopey and the other men of the tribe erect the rest of the lodges, since they'd just relocated two days before. Blair was still fascinated by the process of moving the entire village every couple of months; the Yojave had it down to a fine art, leaving the old location nearly devoid of any sign of their having been there. The young man had a genuine appreciation and respect for the Yojave reverence for nature; he wished his own people were as careful.

He'd been with the Yojave for just over four months, with Jim for one, and though he missed some aspects of his old life, he found much to appreciate with the tribe. Tachopey was an endless source of knowledge, and Blair had spent countless content hours at the old man's side, soaking in the information like a sponge absorbed water. Sandburg would have loved to have access to some of the tests he'd taken himself back at Harvard, he suspected the medicine man was actually a genius, and couldn't help but speculate what he might have been able to accomplish if he'd had access to the kind of information Blair had been. The exchange of knowledge was not a one-way street, either; Tachopey seemed to take just as much delight in learning from the younger man, his quick grasp of subjects such as biology, mathematics, sociology, physics, and anthropology (Blair's personal favorite) far more sophisticated than Sandburg would have ever expected.

Noticing the soil seemed a little darker along this area of the river as compared to where they were before, the Guide wondered if Jim would be able to discern a difference in the taste. Making a mental note to ask the Sentinel about it, he found a few more stalks to add to his growing bowlful. Intent on his labors and thoughts, he didn't hear the approaching riders until one of the horses nickered directly behind him.

The young man whirled around in surprise, his heart taking off at a frantic pace when he recognized the leader of the dozen or so Apache braves. Bold Hawk's cold glare froze Sandburg where he stood, his cruel expression promising future pain for his former slave.

"So you've escaped your new owners, have you? Guess that means whoever finds you can have you," the muscular brave declared, dismounting and stalking toward the smaller man.

"I'm not escaped, I'm gathering food for my 'owner,'" Sandburg said, finally finding his voice, and remembering to speak in Apache.

"Those weeds? I'm not an idiot, Slave!" Bold Hawk growled out, striking the young man a vicious blow across the face. Blair stumbled backwards several steps before losing his balance entirely, the colorful bowl falling to the stony ground to break in several pieces.

Scrambling to his feet, Blair began to back away from the Apaches, his lip bleeding freely from where he'd been hit, his breath ragged and panicked. Bold Hawk took several steps toward him, then stopped, looking beyond the young Guide, his expression darkening even more. Blair hazarded a glance backward and nearly wept in relief when he saw Jim, Tachopey, and several of the men of the tribe standing there.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Jim demanded, his furious gaze on the big brave who threatened his friend.

"Jim, it's okay, I'm fine, it's nothing. They thought I was a runaway," Blair hastened to explain, looking apprehensively at Bold Hawk, grateful the Apache had never learned any English.

"Fine, Chief? Nothing? You're bleeding, it's not nothing," the Sentinel declared, glaring at the Apache brave.

"Guide was given in trade by your chief to mine, Timnaha, who in turn gave him to me. I have since given him to Sentinel," Tachopey said in his halting Apache, indicating Ellison.

"Sentinel? You believe in that legend, old man? There's no such thing, not since the white man polluted our lands. And it is impossible for a white man to be a Sentinel, they don't have a soul. Anyone knows that," Bold Hawk spat out.

"The Great Spirit told me he would send me a Sentinel, and so he has. It matters not if you believe. Now, go, and leave us in peace. You have no business here."

"If this so-called Sentinel is as powerful as you believe, old man, then he should be able to defeat me, isn't that right? By our way I can challenge him for the ownership of the slave, if he's what you say he is, he shouldn't be afraid of that challenge. A fight to the death, for the slave." Bold Hawk's words were directed to Tachopey, but his attitude was a clear challenge to Ellison.

Despite Blair's attempt to shush him, Tachopey repeated the challenge back to the Sentinel, explaining who the younger brave was, making certain he understood what the stakes really were. Jim's rage only increased when informed that this was the man who'd left the scars on his Guide's body, there was no way he'd let the chance for retribution pass.

"Tell him I agree to the challenge, but Blair will not be returned to him. If I lose, he returns to your possession, Tachopey. Our fight has nothing to do with Blair's future," the Sentinel instructed his mentor.

"It doesn't work that way, Sentinel. If you fight, it shall be for the Guide. If you do not fight, the Guide will remain yours, though you will be dishonored. And the next time you encounter a challenger you may not be given any choice, but killed in an ambush, like a rabid animal, and your Guide taken that way. If you are planning a return to the white mans' world, this may not matter," Tachopey explained patiently, ignoring Ellison's growing anger.

"And if I should lose? That animal gets his hands on Blair again. He barely survived the last time, from what you told me, from the scars I saw. Would you run that risk?" Jim asked with some heat.

"I would," said a calm, steady voice, drawing the irate Sentinel's attention to his Guide. "Don't you think I should have some say in this matter, Jim? My faith is in you, man. You can take him. If you choose not to fight, I don't want it to be because of me. It's your choice; personally I think you can take him. And personally, I think you SHOULD take him, else his threat will be hanging over us forever."

Jim Ellison looked down into the trusting eyes of his young friend, and the Yojave braves standing behind them felt the ripple from the power that passed between Sentinel and Guide as both men fully accepted their role in something that was bigger than both of them. Jim reached out and laid a warm hand on Blair's shoulder, then turned toward Bold Hawk, his eyes instantly hardening.

"I accept."

No translation was needed for that declaration, and as one the two men moved toward a central area, already poised, prepared and dangerous. The braves from both tribes stood on opposite sides, oddly silent witnesses to the battle for supremacy between two strong men.

Circling each other in that classic, ages old dance of aggression, Ellison heard Blair's voice in his head, the echo of a dozen lessons;**use your senses.** Use his senses how? Narrowing his eyes, he concentrated his hearing on Bold Hawk's heartbeat, where a sudden spike signaled his intention to attack moments before his body made the motion. But moments were more than enough time for Jim to prepare a counter attack, and he drew the all-important first blood, swiping at the passing brave with his Bowie knife.

The Apache brave was fast and strong, but Jim was patient and observant, letting his opponent wear himself out with essentially useless strikes, learning the other man's moves and unconscious signals. In short order the Sentinel could tell when and how Bold Hawk would strike just from the twitches of his muscles, though that knowledge had come at the price of a half dozen freely bleeding wounds. Fortunately none were particularly damaging, but now it was time for Ellison to launch his offensive, which he did to devastating effect, and less than five minutes after the fight started Jim had Bold Hawk down and disarmed, his razor sharp knife at the defenseless throat.

"Do you surrender?" Jim asked tightly, pushing hard enough to draw thin blood. Tachopey translated for Bold Hawk, who glared at Ellison with renewed hatred slightly diluted by fear, all but growling out his response.

"He says the slave is yours, he releases all claim on him. You are the victor, Sentinel," the old medicine man informed him.

"Tell him if I ever see him again, I'll kill him on sight," Ellison requested, even as he backed off his defeated opponent. Bold Hawk stood up tall, pulling his tattered dignity around himself like a poor coat, and then turned and left with the rest of the Apaches without another word. Jim and Blair stood with Tachopey watching them until they were out of sight as the rest of the Yojave went back into the village.

"You did it, Jim. And you were using your senses, weren't you?" the younger man asked with barely constrained excitement, bouncing on his heels.

"Yeah, I was. It was amazing, so easy to tell how he was going to strike. But I'm just glad he won't be back to bother you again, Chief. It was hard not to slit his throat, for what he'd done to you," Ellison admitted, looking a bit ashamed of the admission. "He is gone, right? Tachopey?"

"He is gone, Sentinel. He won't bother you or Guide again, his power among is people is gone. You did well, your lessons here are finished. It is time for you to take your gift back to your tribe, where it belongs," the old man said with sorrowful satisfaction.

"But, I don't have a tribe," Jim protested as Blair looked at the old man with open-mouthed dismay. Jim found the idea of leaving the Yojave oddly distressing, it was the first time in his life he could remember being fully accepted, and the first stretch of time he could recall when he didn't have the weird sensory episodes and fade outs. He trusted Blair's dedication to helping him, but still he worried that away from the low sensory input atmosphere of the tribe, he could have the same problems he'd always had. He had no desire to return to the type of life where he was considered a freak.

"I thought we belonged here," Blair chipped in as he moved closer to Jim's side.

"No, Guide, your time here was just for training and healing. Remember what I said to you when first we met? When you said I was not of the tribe, and I replied 'nor are you.' You are not of this tribe, either, my friend. It is time for you to find your tribe, at your Sentinel's side. And when you find it, you will find your home..."***

"You looking for some pottery, Chief?" an amused voice asked from behind him.

"Hey, Jim, you got done fast. Nah, just...thinking. Though maybe Hannah would like some?" he suggested with a grin up at his friend.

"You know how she feels about any gift that implies more work for her. Best to keep to her fancy boxes of chocolates," the big man grinned, thinking about the woman who was combination cook, housekeeper, nurse, caretaker, mother, and friend.

"I think you could be right about that. But that's something we should buy closer to home," Sandburg agreed.

"Well, if you found all the stuff you need, let's get it purchased, gather up Billy, and get out of here. It's time to head on home, Chief," the Sentinel declared with a softening of his expression when he thought of their farm on the outskirts of Cascade.

"Yeah, Jim. Time to go home."