Jim turned to his brother. "Steven, I'm sorry. He's too young. He doesn't know, but I'll explain it to him."

The younger man tried to wave him off. "It's all right, Jim. I've heard that kind of talk before and worse. The boy's only repeating what he's heard men he respects say. I understand that."

Rising from the table with his own empty plate, Jim said, "Just the same, I'll talk to him."

He gave his brother's shoulder a squeeze in passing before going to have an overdue talk with his son. Blair had been right. Jim did know what Henry Brown had said about the rebels. He'd been standing a few feet away when the ex-slave, now ranch owner, had said it, and did nothing, said nothing.

Jim frowned at the wary look Blair gave him as he approached.

"Am I in trouble again?" the boy asked sadly, a hang-dog expression marring his usual buoyant countenance.

Smiling reassuringly, Jim put an arm around Blair's shoulders, squeezing them gently as he guided them toward the creek.

"No, Little Bit, but I want to talk to you about what you said. Little boys shouldn't be blurting out those kinds of statements. You bring those kinds of things to me and we'll talk about them. Understand?"

"Yes, Papa. I'm sorry, but you fought against the rebs. Kincaid was a reb, too. I thought they were bad men?"

When they'd reached their favorite spot by the creek, Jim waited until Blair had seated himself on the fallen log they often fished from before asking, "You like Uncle Steven?"

"Oh, yes. He tells good stories." Blair wrinkled his nose mischievously and grinned. "Especially the stories about you."

"Yes, well, I'll set the record straight about those later. Now I want to tell you about The Fight and where our family stood so you'll understand why I don't want to hear talk like that from you anymore. You know I'm from Virginia, what's now called West Virginia." Jim waited until Blair nodded before continuing. "My family had a tobacco farm for generations, until the soil couldn't produce a decent crop anymore. Fortunately, my father had a passion for horses. He bred some of the finest thoroughbreds east of the Mississippi."

"Like Sentry?"

Jim chuckled. "Yes, like Sentry. When I was a boy he took a fancy to the new Morgan breed and began breeding those, as well. That's how we came by Ceylon. I used to ride Ceylon's grandsire from dawn to dusk."

Cocking his head in confusion, Blair asked, "What does that have to do with the war?"

"We had a fairly large land holding. Not nearly as big as many of the plantations to the south, but we owned up to twenty slaves at one time. When the tobacco crop failed to produce, we couldn't keep everyone. My father sold all the field hands and kept only those who worked the horses and a couple to help my mother with the house, and us boys. I was very young when all that happened, maybe a bit younger than you. My point is that, my father had a chance to get rid of all his slaves, but didn't. He believed in slavery of the Negro. Now, I never remember my father, or his foreman, ever being cruel to any of them, but the fact remained that they were property. Steven and I were taught to believe that was the way things were supposed to be."

Blair, his eyes as round as saucers, all but whispered, "Do you still believe that?"

"No. Can't quite remember when I decided that was hogwash, but by the time I went to West Point, I could easily see the abolitionist's point of view. And I know Steven had similar thoughts. When South Carolina seceded from the Union, taking many other southern states with her, our father wanted Virginia to do the same. It was a point of honor with him to remain loyal to the South instead of the Union. Steven agreed with Father. After Fort Sumnter, we were all forced to make a choice. I chose to go against my father's wishes and fight for the Union, as my pledge to serve my country mandated. That was a point of honor and duty to me. My father disagreed, believing that loyalty belonged to the state of Virginia, and him. Steven agreed with our father on that point, and fought for the Confederacy. Not because he believed in slavery, although most who fought for the South did, but because he believed that the Federal government had too much say in how we ran our lives, and protected the North's interests more than the South's. Many families were split that way as well, leading brother to fight against brother. This didn't make your Uncle Steven a bad man. Often times the winners of a war will make villains out of the losers to make their cause seem more just."

"But wasn't the Union right, Papa?"

"Yes, very much so, but they could have been more charitable in their dealings with the South at the war's end. Unfortunately, too many, again on both sides, wouldn't let go of the conflict, like an old dog with a soup bone, and the bitterness still prevails to this day, nine years later."

"Are you chewin' on a bone?" Blair asked softly.

Looking out across the creek, playing back in his mind Steven's visit, he said, "I didn't think I was, but recent events are proving me a liar."

Still looking across the water, Jim felt two little arms encircle his neck. A smile came naturally to his face as he took his son into his lap to hold.

"I'm sorry for what I said to Uncle Steven. I'll 'pologise to him," Blair said, giving Jim's neck a squeeze before sliding off his lap and heading for the cabin. Watching the little boy enter their home, Jim's heart nearly burst with pride. With a sigh, he followed, having made the decision to put the past behind him to give his brother and himself another chance.

~~~

Jim checked the cinch on his saddle again, making sure it was tight. It was his third check. He knew his actions were only a stall, but he couldn't help it.

"Aren't you leaving yet?" Blair's clearly impatient voice reached him from across the yard.

Jim looked back over his shoulder to give the boy a disapproving glare. He couldn't help but notice that his brother also looked anxious for him to leave. Jim swallowed his misgivings at leaving the two of them alone together. They would probably get to know each other better with him out of the way, and he really needed to check the herd of mustangs he saw the other day. He mounted his horse and with a final farewell, rode out.

~~~

Steven bit back a chuckle as the boy sitting next to him on the log, his nephew, continued to prattle on about everything and nothing. They had been fishing for over an hour. Neither had caught a thing, but that wasn't the point anyway. He wanted to get to know this child who had his brother wrapped firmly around his little finger. Jim had changed so much in the past nine years. Yes, his older brother still clung to honor and had a certain rigidity about certain things, but he now seemed more relaxed, happier than he ever remembered seeing him. He strongly
suspected he had the chatterbox next to him to thank for that. Steven smiled to himself as he realized he'd be around that finger himself very soon.

"Uncle Steven? Uncle Steven?!" He looked down at the cross-looking little boy. "Were you listening?"

"I'm sorry, Blair. What were you saying?"

"I was asking if we could have lunch now. I'm getting hungry."

After finding his way around the kitchen, he managed to heat a can of beans on the stove with Blair's "help," not his approval. The boy prefaced almost every thing he said with, "Well, Papa doesn't do it that way, but..."

Well, apparently the world still rises and sets on my big brother, he thought with half remembered envy.

It hadn't been until Jim chose the side of the Yankees that his father looked upon him with any real amount of pride. He had always felt growing up a need to compete with his brother for their father's affection. Not that the man ever showed any.

That was the greatest surprise about his brother. Jim displayed such open love and devotion for a boy not even of his blood. Hugs, hair tousling, kissing his forehead, and such patience for a child who could never possibly "be seen, but not heard."

Steven compared the scene he'd witness on his arrival of Jim admonishing Blair with that of similar transgressions from their childhood. Had either young Ellison pulled such a stunt, they'd have been roughly escorted to the woodshed by their father for a dose of his strap. The gentle firmness with which his brother handled Blair gave Steven hope that, despite their upbringing, he might make a decent father himself.

"Uncle Steven, I'm finished. May I be excused?"

"Certainly, Blair. So am I," Steven said, following Blair to the sink at the counter. Blair put his plate in the sink and began pumping the water over it. Steven slid his in on top.

"Blair, those can wait until later, let's--"

"But Papa always--"

"I'm sure he does, but I'm in charge for now so we'll do it my way." Blair nodded in obedience and left the dirty dishes in the sink. "Now, what do you say we do something nice for your father?"

"Like what?"

"Well, I understand there's pretty good hunting out here. I recall that Jim loves venison, so why don't we go out and see if we can bring some back for him?"

"All right," Blair hesitantly responded as he followed his uncle out to the barn to saddle the horses.

~~~

Jim Ellison rode in a fury. He'd returned home early to an empty cabin. Neither Blair nor his brother in the immediate vicinity. Worse, he could find no note giving their plans either. Finding Ceylon and Steven's horse gone, he spent twenty minutes identifying their trail. Now he strained his senses to pick up any indication of what the two rascals were up to and if they were all right.

After almost an hour of hard riding, he brought Sentry to a halt when he heard, Now stay quiet, Blair. Careful, keep the muzzle pointed down.

Jim tried with little success to get a fix on where the voices were coming from. Frustration overtook the big rancher and the sounds around him began to overwhelm him. As he felt another spell come on, he heard a large cat roar. That sound helped him shake the spell off. Then he heard his spirit guide's voice. Focus, Watchman, listen to your heart. Taking a deep cleansing breath, Jim pushed away his anxiety and listened.

I see something in the bushes, Uncle Steven. As he honed in on his excited son's whispering, Jim began riding toward it.

Yes, so do I. Now do just as I showed you and remember, when you shoot there'll be a bit of a kick. Jim spurred Sentry on harder, his gut twisting. What the blazes had his brother done?

The sound of two, loud shots, close together, nearly sent Jim tumbling from his horse. He cinched back down on his hearing to ease the pain as he continued to ride. The sight of Ceylon and Steven's horse sent some relief through the frazzled father.

He dismounted and ran directly toward the sound of Blair's pounding heartbeat. As he crash through the forest undergrowth, he called out. Beyond a large tree, the forest gave way to a small clearing. Jim halted suddenly. There stood Blair, arms around a rifle butt, the muzzle in the dirt. The boy's eyes were as big as saucers. His mouth agape, Blair's attention was riveted on his Uncle who knelt a few yards away next to the carcass of a small deer, a big Bowie knife in his hand.

Steven looked up before he began dressing the deer, a smile on his face. "Jim! We bagged supper." The younger man's smile wavered as he saw the look on his brother's face. He opened his mouth to speak again, but stopped when Jim held his hand up for silence.

Jim quietly stepped up to his son and gently took the rifle away. The tugging at the gun finally turned Blair's attention to his father.

The boy looked up with sad, water-filled blue eyes. The sight nearly broke the big rancher's heart.

"It's dead. I shot it."

The whispered words were all Blair said before wrapping his arms around Jim's middle, burrowing his head into his stomach. Patting the trembling boy's back and stroking his curly locks, Jim tried to soothe his shaken child as well as calm his own nerves. He silently cursed his
brother for bringing another trauma to his son.

"No you didn't, runt. Your shot went wild. I brought it down."

Jim sent his brother an icy glare across the clearing, silencing the younger man yet again. The rancher couldn't help but be gratified inside by his brother's pale face and fear-filled expression. A squeeze from the small arms encircling his hips drew his attention back to the small boy who clung to him. He'd settle with his brother later.

Jim moved them further away from the scene to block Blair's view of the carcass. "What happened, Little Bit?"

"Uncle Steven wanted to get you venison as a surprise. I didn't know that meant deer." The boy paused to wipe his sleeve across his runny nose. Jim gritted his teeth, but didn't make a fuss. "I wanted to help and Uncle Steven said I could use his spare rifle." Blair paused again, chewing his lower lip. "I told him I had to have permission and he said that I had his. That it would be okay."

The beseeching look in those sorrowful eyes was all it took for Jim to lift his son up into a big bear hug. "It's going to be all right, Little Bit. It's okay. Let's get you home and we can talk about it later."

"But I killed it."

"No, child. That's not so. Didn't you hear what Steven said? His shot brought it down. Yours went wild."

Blair pulled back from his embrace to look him in the face. "I didn't hit it at all?"

Jim looked passed Blair to Steven who had been listening to their conversation. At his brother's quick head shake, he said, "No, not at all."

With a sigh of relief, Blair lay his head back on his shoulder. "Good. I don't like hunting, Papa. I'll stick with fishing."

Jim helped Steven load the dressed dear on to his horse. Blair rode home with him on Sentry while Steven rode Ceylon and led his laden horse.

~~~

Tucking the extra quilt up over Blair's shoulders, Jim brushed a soft kiss over the boy's temple before leaving him to continue his nap. The child had fallen asleep on the ride home and Jim had let him. It'd been easier that way. Blair seen to, Jim headed for the shed where Steven had taken the carcass. Neither had spoken on the way home beyond absolutely necessary communication.

Approaching the shed, Jim's previous anger flared renewed by the happy whistling he heard. Steven came out of the small building, wiping his hands on a cloth.

"Jim, look," the younger man began, looking apologetic. "I'm sorry about this afternoon. I had no idea—"

"Bull. You were there when I told him he couldn't use a gun until he was thirteen. Damnation, Steven, you heard me tell him that he had to have my permission to even touch one."

"That's not true, Jim. You just said he had to have permission, and there are one hundred lines to back that up. I gave him permission. Now, maybe I was wrong--"

"That's the first thing you got right. I want you off my property. Now."

"Jim, I--"

"I'm not interested in what you have to say. There's plenty of daylight left to make it to town if you get moving now. Good-bye, Steven."

Jim turned on his heel and returned to the cabin. Fifteen minutes later, while sitting in his armchair, he heard Steven ride out. His anger rose again remembering Steven's betrayal. Stabbed in the back again by his brother. He tilted his head against the top of the chair. Well, it wouldn't happen again. Steven was out of his life for good. Only then did he begin to let go of the anger and tension he'd been feeling. That's right. He'd done fine without his brother all these years. He didn't need him then and he certainly didn't need him now. The irresponsible, stubborn, trouble-making, runt. On that thought, Jim hefted himself out of the chair and began to make supper. Venison steak sounded real good.

~~~

Blair woke from his sleep to the sound of pots and pans banging around. He shook the cobwebs from his brain to get his bearings. The last thing he remembered was sitting in his father's lap on Sentry heading home. He pushed the quilt away and swung his legs over the edge of the bed
while rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He watched in silence as his father stomped about the kitchen area. Two things were very clear to the young boy. He'd slept until almost supper time and Papa was very angry.

"I'm sorry," Blair said quietly.

"What?" his father asked distractedly as he put the frying pan on the stove.

He said a little louder. "I'm sorry I was naughty."

This time his father turned to face him, confusion on his face. "What are you talking about?"

Blair took a deep breath, ready to face the music. "What I did. I'm really sorry and I won't do it again."

"Won't do what again?"

Shrugging his shoulders, he persisted. "Whatever it was that made you so angry."

His father took a deep breath and hung his head. Blair braced himself for the expected lecture, but when his father spoke, his voice was soft, and tired. "I'm not angry with you, Little Bit. You'd best get cleaned up for supper."

Scooting off the bed, Blair walked over to stand in front of his agitated father. He cocked his head, puzzled at his father's response. "Then why are you so upset?"

"I'm not upset. Now scoot so you can set the table," his father said firmly, prodding Blair to where the tableware was kept.

As Blair began to get three sets of everything out, he paused. There was something missing.

"Where's Uncle Steven?" he asked as casually as he could.

Not turning around, his father said tightly, "He had to go."

Blair's heart sunk at the news.

"When will he be back?"

"He won't," his father replied. "Now set the table." Even with his back to him, Blair could tell his father had his jaw clenched. Yep, Papa was real upset.

In spite of his father's sour mood, Blair had to know what was going on. "Why didn't you wake me up so I could say good-bye?"

"There was no time, now get to work."

"Yes, sir, but--"

The slam of a heavy wood spoon against the stove top made Blair jump. Finally turning to face him, his father continence was stern. It reminded Blair of the few times he'd broken the "really big rules."

"Blair. Drop it. It doesn't concern you."

Yes it does, Papa, he thought. I thought you said it'd be all right?

He couldn't say that though. Instead he said, "You're angry about the hunting trip."

"Blair--"

He cut in, rushing on, trying to get it all out before his father had a chance to bless him out. "I knew you'd be upset, but Uncle Steven really thought you'd like the deer, and...well, I wanted to go hunting, too. It was fun tracking, trying to keep sight of the trail. I had fun...until the end. It's not Uncle Steven's fault. I could have said no. Refused to go." During his little speech, Blair's hands were gesturing all over the place, but now he hung them at his side, looking
directly into his beloved father's eyes. "Are you going to send me away now, too?"

The stern face vanished and his father came over to him, resting big hands on his thin shoulders. In the soft voice that Blair always found so reassuring, Papa said, "Little Bit, of course not."

He frowned. But you said you cared about Uncle Steven too, he thought.

"But you made Uncle Steven go away," he said, not caring if he sounded whiny.

His father gave a gentle squeeze to his shoulders while smiling weakly down at him. "That's different. We're adults--"

His heart pounded. Why couldn't Papa see?

Blair asked very quietly, "So when I grow up and make you angry then you'll never speak to me again, too?"

Blair felt moisture come to his eyes when his father cupped his face. "No. Never, child. No matter what, I'll always love you."

Those were the words he wanted to hear, but after recent events, what should he believe? He hung his head and whispered, "Yeah, but you just won't talk to me."

"Blair..." the exasperation clearly coming through. Blair looked up to see his father run a hand over his face. "Get ready for supper. We have to get up early tomorrow. I want to start for town at first light. We need to find Steven before he leaves town."

~~~~

Lying in bed, Jim stared at the ceiling, arms behind his head. The mantle clock chimed twelve times. Blair shifted in his dreams then settled again. Jim decided that after making amends with Steven, if he could, he planned on treating his son to a trip to the candy counter at Taggert's store. He was proud of Blair for speaking up for himself and not backing down, even to him. His comparison of Steven to himself really hit the mark. Classic, "do as I say, not as I do", Ellison, he chided himself. Distance from the event put it all in perspective. He'd greatly overreacted. He only hoped they'd get to town before Steven left. Jim didn't want another nine years to go by before hearing from his brother again. He drifted off into a restless sleep on that thought.

Just as the sun made its presence known with the first few rays of light over the mountains, Jim had Sentry saddled. Hustling himself and Blair through a quick breakfast, they were on their way. Anxious to make good time, Jim elected to have Blair ride double with him instead of the boy riding his own horse. He made the trip to Cascade in record time.

After checking the train station, with no luck, Steven hadn't purchased a ticket. . .yet, Jim began asking around at the three hotels and boarding houses in town. He found Steven eating breakfast in Cascade Palace Hotel restaurant Jim ordered pancakes and bacon for Blair to keep him busy while he had a private talk with Steven.

"Mind if I join you?" Jim asked quietly, hat in hand at the side of his brother's table in the dining room.

Steven stared intently at Jim for a moment before gesturing to the chair across from him. As Jim seated himself, the younger man went back to eating his meal. After a few minutes of tense silence, Steven put down his fork and glared at Jim.

"What do you want, Jim?" he said tiredly. "This town not big enough for the both of us? Well, don't worry. I'm leaving on the first train to San Francisco."

Jim worked the brim of his hat in his hands. He squared his shoulders and said as evenly as possible, "Actually, Steven, I came for the house specialty."

Brow arched, voice full of disbelief, his brother snorted, "You made a two and a half hour ride for steak and eggs?"

The big rancher loudly exhaled the breath he'd been holding. Humble pie was not his favorite dish. "No, to eat crow."

Shaking his head, Steven began, "Jim--"

"Steven, this isn't easy for me. I was wrong about yesterday. I overreacted and I'm sorry for throwing you out."

"I've been doing some thinking, too. I shouldn't have gone against your wishes and shown Blair how to use a rifle. It's just that--I saw you two together and--you're a good father, Jim. I guess I was a bit jealous. I just wanted to experience that a bit for myself. I never meant any harm. How is Blair? Nightmares?"

"He's fine. He's handled this better than I have. As for being jealous, I'm guilty of that, as well. I realized last night that what got my nose out of joint, almost as much as Blair being frightened, was the fact that you took my son through a rite of passage that I should have shared with him, guided him through. I felt cheated."

"I'm sorry, Jim. I wasn't thinking. I'm willing to put this all past us if you are."

"Deal." Relief flowed through the rancher. Looking at the half eaten steak and eggs in front of his brother reminded him of the two cold biscuits he'd wolfed down this morning. "Hey, runt?"

"What?"

He asked playfully, "You gonna eat all that steak?"

His brother grinned from ear to ear. "Yep," he said, popping another fork full in his mouth and motioned for Jim to join him.

After Jim ordered his own second breakfast, Blair came up to the table, still chewing the last mouthful of pancake.

He opened his mouth to speak when his father ordered, "Swallow."

Obeying, he started again.

"Papa, I'm finished. Can I go see if Darryl can play?"

"Sure, Blair. I'll come by after I eat."

"Don't go far, runt," Steven interjected. "I have something to show you two."

Blair's eyes danced with excitement. "What is it?"

"Nope. That would spoil the surprise."

"Please, Uncle Steven. Just one hint?"

His uncle seemed to be thinking this over carefully. "You can ask twenty yes or no questions."

By the time Blair had ended his interrogation, both men where finished with their meal. Blair still didn't know what the surprise was. They headed towards the stables, Blair bouncing along beside his uncle trying to pump more information from him.

"Blair, hush. Stop pestering Steven," Jim admonished firmly, although he too was very curious about what Steven had waiting in the livery. Blair settled down at his father's command, but still walked along the boardwalk with a springy step.

When they reached the livery stables, Steven told them to wait in the yard. Jim's jaw dropped when two chestnut-colored, thoroughbred mares were led out by a grinning Steven.

"Oh, boy! Are those for us?" Blair asked, bubbling with excitement.

"That's rude to ask, son," Jim gently chided, still mesmerized by the beautifully-formed creatures. He walked forward and slowly rubbed his hand down one muscular flank. Out of habit he began examining the horses, although his expert eye saw the quality of the beasts from first glance.

"Actually, Jim, they are for you."

The big rancher could hardly believe his ears.

"Steven, I can't accept this—"

"It's your inheritance from Father's estate. I'm keeping a stallion and mare for myself. There's a trunk with some of Mama's things I thought you'd want. The rest I sold to pay the taxes."

Jim managed to choke down the lump in his throat enough to say, "Thank you, Steven. You didn't have to do that."

"Yes, I did, and you're welcome."

They stood there awkwardly, neither knowing what to do next.

"Can I ride one, please, Papa?"

Blair's pleading broke the silence, much to his father's relief.

"Sure, Little Bit."

They put the two mares through their paces, all three taking turns.

"Well, it's been fun, but I have a train to catch," Steven announced a few hours later after the horses had been groomed and returned to their stalls.

"You don't have to go, Steven."

"Yes, I do, Jim. You've found a new home and I need to find mine."

"Where are you headed?"

"I plan on booking passage on a ship when I reach San Francisco. Thought I'd go up to Washington state, find me 164 acres, a good woman and settle down."

"That sounds like a good plan to me. Make sure you're not the only Ellison brother to be called, 'uncle' all right?"

Jim and Blair walked Steven to the train and helped with the loading of the other horses. As the conductor made the final boarding call, they finally quit stalling and made their farewells.

"Good-bye, Uncle Steven. I'm gonna miss you," Blair said, hugging Steven around the waist.

His uncle returned the hug. "I'm going to miss you, too. Take care of your papa, all right?"

"I will," Blair replied, releasing his uncle as Steven tousled his curls.

Jim extended his right hand. "Good luck, Steven. Keep in touch."

Reaching his own hand out to shake his brother's, Steven let out a small gasp of surprise when Jim brought him in for a big bear hug. The younger man hugged back just as tightly.

"You take care of yourself, runt."

"I will, Jim. Thanks for everything."

"For what? Acting like an ass?"

Steven took a step back, but kept a grip on his brother's arms. He nodded pointedly at Blair. "No. For showing me what it could be like."

The conductor called all aboard and Steven jumped on as the train began to move. He waved. Jim waved back until the train rolled out of sight. Lost in his thoughts, it took several tugs at his sleeve before he noticed Blair trying to get his attention.

"Did you have another spell? I thought Gray Wolf got rid of those?"

Jim grinned, swinging the little boy up into his arms. "No, Little Bit. I'm fine," he said, walking back to town to get them a room for the night. "In fact, I'm one very lucky man."

"Why? You find a penny?"

Jim laughed loudly before tousling his perplexed son's hair.

"Yes, Blair. I found a very shiny lucky penny that I will treasure forever."

At a deeper confused look from the boy, Jim bussed him loudly on the cheek, producing the expected giggles. Setting Blair down, he let the chattering of the little boy holding his hand wash over him. Yep, he thought to himself. Life just doesn't get any better.

The end, until the next one.