Standard disclaimers: Characters of The Sentinel belong to Pet Fly and company. Not me. Nuts. I'm doing this for fun, not money.
Rating: G, of course. This is family stuff.
My thanks to Cindy for catching a few, okay a number
Many thanks to my head cheerleader, friend, beta-reader and fanny-kicker, BCW. This wouldn't
get done without her. Well, it'd get done, just never see the light of day.
January, 1874
Another involuntary shiver raced down Blair's spine when a cold blast of wind blew under his
hat to bite his face. He tried to snuggle deeper into the hard, but warm chest at his back. He bit
back a whimper at the rising howl of the relentless icy wind. Blair sat in his father's lap in the
saddle as Sentry slowly plodded forward against the strong gales. Even buttoned snugly under
the elder Ellison's buffalo coat, hat wedged firmly on his bowed head and a scratchy wool scarf
wrapped around his neck, mouth and nose, the frigid air still found a way in. Blair had never
been more cold in his life.
"You all right, Little Bit?"
Blair shivered and nodded at the shouted question, barely heard over the storm. A large strong
arm moved across his body, pinning him tighter to the heat source at his back. Blair relaxed a bit
in the awkward embrace. Papa was here. Everything would be all right.
James Ellison tightened his hold on the precious cargo beneath his coat. For the countless time,
he mentally berated himself for being a damned fool. He should have left Blair at home where
he'd be safe and warm. He let those beseeching, big, blue eyes of his little boy override his better
judgment.
They had ridden out to check on the herd of horses in the far north pasture then spent a
delightful hour romping in the powdery snow. He gave into a small smile at the memory of
Blair's laughter when they slid down the hillside time and again using his buffalo coat as a
toboggan. Even with winter gear on the two had gotten quite wet from roughhousing. They had
such a wonderful time that Jim hadn't noticed the darkening sky until the wind started to pick
up. He cut their games short and plunked a now mildly pouting Blair in Sentry's saddle.
Swinging up behind the boy, he tried to out run the fast approaching storm. Mistake number
two.
After less than a hour of riding, the storm overtook them. Jim had been concentrating on the trail
ahead with such focus that he almost jumped out of the saddle when Blair wiggled back in his lap
in an attempt to get closer. In a show of comfort, the rancher moved a gloved hand from the reins
to pat the little hands clutching the saddlehorn. A curse escaped his mouth to be swallowed by
the growing howl of the wind. One of Blair's gloves were missing, exposing a bare hand to the
harsh elements. Jim quickly unbuttoned his coat and tucked the chilled boy inside, rubbing front
and sides to try to work some warmth back into the little body. That had been an hour ago and,
at the rate they were trudging through the rising drifts of snow, he had no idea how long it would
be before they reached home. The rancher cursed himself again when another shiver went
through the little boy in his lap. He should never have brought Blair along. The boy deserved
better than to have a damned fool for a father.
Only the occasional glimpsed landmark kept the rancher urging them in the right direction. Jim
could barely see a few feet in front of them. He needed to find them shelter quickly before they
all froze to death. Sentry stopped abruptly. No prodding from Jim would get the mighty
stallion to budge. The rancher understood the reason, the almost blinding wind and snow. Jim
patted the quivering horse's neck in sympathy.
Through the swirling snow, Jim spied a familiar outcropping of rocks and made a decision. He
took off Blair's hat and readjusted the scarf so it covered his head. The boy turned a stunned
face to him.
Jim shouted over the howl of the wind, "Blair. I need you to turn around."
After the boy obeyed, Jim buttoned his coat up further and gave his bewildered child more
instructions.
Bending down to put his mouth right next to Blair's ear to be heard over the storm, Jim spoke
calmly as if addressing a skittish new colt. "That's good, Little Bit. Now, put your arms around
my neck and hold tight around my waist with your legs. We're going to have to lead Sentry up
to that old mine on the hill." At the boy's shutter, Jim rubbed his back in soothing little circles.
"It's our only chance at shelter."
Jim dismounted and began leading his horse with one hand while supporting Blair with the other.
He predicted Blair's reaction to their destination. Last October Jim spent a frantic hour searching
their valley for a missing Blair. He finally located the frightened boy in the, categorically
forbidden, old mine by following the sounds of Blair yelling for help. The mine, a remnant from a
previous tenant, never produced a cent. Two shafts split off from the main and went back
After what seemed like endless hiking through the hip deep snowdrifts, the site of Blair's fall
"adventure" came into view. Jim gently removed a reluctant Blair from under his coat so he could
attack the boards he'd put up to prevent anyone else from wandering into the old mine. The
rancher pushed his numbing fingers to work quickly to make an opening big enough for Sentry to
get through, all the while very aware of Blair standing in waist deep snow shivering. Satisfied
with his crude work, Jim grabbed up Blair and Sentry's reins to enter their haven.
Blair stood almost up to his waist in snow, the freezing wind quickly sapping the warmth from
his body while he watched his father pry boards from the mine entrance. He trembled. Not just
from cold, but from unease as well. He still visited this place in his nightmares. A deep pit.
Total darkness. Calling for Jim until his throat rasped. Jim had forbidden him from this place,
but his curiosity couldn't let it go. A left turn instead of a right and he found himself falling into
a deep shaft. Deep to him anyway. The top stood a good four feet above his head. Climbing the
steep walls only left his hands with little cuts and scrapes. When his torch light went out, he
began to panic. The total darkness of the pit left him totally disoriented. He couldn't see his
The embrace became real when his papa scooped him up out of the snow and into the mine.
Blair hid his face against his father's shoulder, more to block out the view than the icy wind. His
father carried him to the end of the main shaft, the unrelenting wind still able to reach them with a
strong gusts.
"Blair, I'm going to put Sentry in the right side shaft and bring our gear over here where we'll
wait out the storm," He heard his father say while feeling himself being pried from his safe
haven. He resisted to no avail. Papa gently, but firmly, set him down with a reassuring pat
Blair listened to his father lead Sentry to the adjoining shaft while softly singing one of Blair's
favorite tunes. "He flies through the air with the greatest of ease. The daring young man--"
The soothing sound of his father's singing steadied Blair's nerves. He joined in to ward off the
bad memories and the howling wind. "...On the flying trapeze..."
Though hearing his father's voice helped, Blair was greatly relieved when he returned with his
bedroll and saddle bags.
"Looks like we're going to get to do a little camping." Blair smiled weakly at the forced light tone
of his father's voice. He tried to be brave.
"I'm going to the front to collect those boards so we can make a fire," he heard his papa's calm
voice nearby in the darkness and the sound of a hand patting blankets. A familiar strong hand
gripped his shoulder to maneuver him on to the spread out bedroll. "You sit on this and take
Too tired and scared to protest, Blair obeyed.
He'd just gotten his wet boots off his chilled feet when his father returned with the firewood.
After breaking up the lumber even further, Jim coaxed the damp wood into smoldering flames.
Soon they were sitting under blankets, in their drawers, next to a small fire. Their damp clothes
hung around the shaft to dry. They put their chilled feet as close to the fire as possible to warm
them while chewing quietly on some jerky from the rations Jim had in his bags.
When a wild burst of wind sent more icy air into the shaft, Blair huddled closer to his father's
side. The forceful breeze moved the flames about in a wild dance. The howling outside increased
and the boy's shivering returned. Blair was comforted by the embrace of Jim's arm around him.
He wiggled his bare toes by the fire, grateful for even the small amount of heat the small blaze
provided.
"Warming up?" At his nodded reply, his father commanded, "Good, get in the bedroll and I'll
tell you a story."
In the process of obeying, Blair stopped, fixing his parent with a skeptical eye. "I thought you
didn't know any stories."
"I never said that, Little Bit. I said I don't know how to make up stories. Unlike a certain little
boy I know," Jim teased while coaxing the boy further into the blankets. He lay down next to
Blair to add his body heat, hoping to keep his son warm enough after the flames died down.
"The story I'm going to tell you was told to me when I was about your age. It was told to me by
the man who taught me almost everything I know about horses. Certainly all the important
things."
Blair snuggled close, the warmth, food and events of the day began to make his eye lids droop.
"Your papa?" he asked with a yawn.
"No. My father wasn't much into telling stories, unless he could read them out of the Bible.
Ethan told me these. Now listen."
"Who's Ethan?"
Blair waited while Jim scrubbed his face with his free hand.
"Ethan was head of my family's stables. He was a slave and died peacefully in his sleep shortly
before I went off to West Point."
"Do you miss him?"
"Yes, Little Bit. I do. I loved him very much...He was a great man."
"I'd like to hear his stories."
Blair closed his eyes, and forgot all about their troubles, as his father began to tell the tale. "This
is the story of Brer Fox and Brer Rabbit and a briar patch..."
Jim felt Blair drop off near the end of the second story about Brer Rabbit and the tar baby. He
blessed the timing. The fire had almost died out. He knew it wouldn't last the hour, leaving them
in near total darkness. Jim searched his memories for something to take Blair's mind off their
prediciment before that happened. The rancher had spent too many nights after their first
"adventure" here comforting Blair from nightmares of being lost in the dark. He hadn't thought of
those old stories or of Ethan in years. Jim chuckled quietly. He should have known he couldn't
drop a name without his ever-questioning son wanting all the details. He'd loved Ethan more than
his own father, finding any excuse to be in the stables with the kind, but firm, old colored man.
The blizzard could rage from another day to another week. He should have left Blair at home
where he'd have plenty of firewood and food. He took stock of their resources. Water wasn't a
problem. They had only a day, maybe two of short rations, but the blankets would keep them
warm enough to conserve energy. It would be tough, but they could last a week if they had to.
Jim amended that thought. They would last, period. He wouldn't fail the boy again. On that
note, he drifted into a fitful sleep.
Blair woke out of his dreamless slumber to total darkness. He scootched closer to the warm back
behind him. He shut his eyes and pretended they were home in bed. He knew they'd get there
just fine. He had every confidence that Papa would see to that. He just wished that it would be
He lay there in the quiet darkness, hearing only the soft sounds of his father snoring and Sentry
snorting. Not another sound. Not...
He sat up hurriedly, looking toward the shaft entrance and strained to hear.
"Papa!" Blair shouted to the sleeping man next to him, shaking his shoulder vigorously. "The
storm, Papa. It's stopped. Wake up!"
Jim Ellison bolted up out of a deep sleep. Blair's words slowly sunk in. He patted the boy's
shoulder.
"Wait here. I'll check it out."
The rancher found his boots after a few fumbles in the dark before making his way to the cave
entrance. What he estimated as several feet from the entrance his booted feet stepped in cold
crunchy snow. He went back to dress and returned with his small camp shovel to dig through
the mound of snow that blocked the shaft entrance. After over fifteen minutes of continuous
digging he broke through only to have a cold harsh wind plunge down the small hole to whip
around his body. The howling could be heard very clearly now. Jim forced himself through the
Cursing to himself, Jim used some of the remaining lumber to shore up his path to the outside so
they could have fresh air and a small amount of light. He made his way back to their camp,
wondering how to tell Blair.
"Well, Little Bit, looks like we'll be camping out a might longer," Jim announced, rubbing his
hands together as if he relished the idea. "Clothes are dry. Get dressed and then back under the
blankets. I'll get us some breakfast and then maybe you can tell me a story."
Jim grabbed his saddlebags to get a meal together while keeping an eye on his son. Blair began to
pull his cold, but dry, socks on when he stopped suddenly.
"Papa, I gotta go."
Rummaging through the saddlebags, Jim motioned absently to the other shaft. "Go around the
corner."
"But, Papa, that's where..." the small frightened voice trailed off bringing Jim's full attention to
the petrified child before him.
"I need to attend to business as well," Jim said casually as he took Blair by a hand and walked
them both to the shaft of their earlier misadventures. Within about a foot of the pit that plagued
his child's sleep for weeks after his fall, Jim let go of Blair's hand. He nonchalantly as possible
went about relieving himself into the dark hole. He smiled, and bit back a chuckle, when he heard
Blair do the same. Both finished, Jim felt Blair's hand take his and give it a squeeze before they
walked back to their camp. Jim returned the sentiment.
They spent the next two days working on Blair's multiplication tables and spelling words, with
plenty of story telling in between. Jim checked on the weather every hour, not pleased that the
winds still howled, bringing more snow. The frustration of being so close to home, but unable to
get there began to get to the increasingly worried father. He had rationed them to eat two biscuits
and a strip of jerky per day. There were only a couple pieces of the tough, dried venison and a
few stale biscuits left.
Jim beamed with pride at the little boy catnapping next to him. He had heard the boy's stomach
growl throughout their entrapment in the shaft and knew, too, that the inactivity was difficult for
the usually boisterous child. Yet, Blair had yet to complain, much, which only served to deepen
Jim's guilt about putting his boy at risk. Jim brushed a few of the unruly curls away from the
resting boy's eyes.
"You'd have been better off at home."
"Don't like being alone. It's scary. I'd rather be here with you."
The sleepy voice startled the rancher. He hadn't realized he'd spoken his fear out loud.
Knuckling his eyes, Blair sat up on the bedroll and stretched.
"I'm hungry, Papa. When we eatin'?"
In the dim light of the shaft, Jim had no trouble seeing the trust in the big blue eyes looking up to
him. He accepted that trust and by doing so put his guilt away to focus on their survival. He'd
slaughter his horse if it came down to it. They ate the last of their provisions.
Sometime during the night the howling sound had ceased. Jim took his shovel and dug out the
passage to the surface. Going from the almost total darkness to the blinding field of white that
greeted him when he broke through stunned the rancher. He could see individual snow flakes.
Thousands of them. He stood transfixed, oblivious to all else.
When his papa didn't come back, Blair went to the shaft entrance to find out why. Seeing his
father standing so very still, not blinking, reminded him of someone else who used to do that, and
he remembered how to make it stop.
Blair put his hand on his father's arm and called quietly. "Papa, it's time to come back now.
Papa, can you hear me? It's Blair and you have to come back."
With a start the rancher moved. He felt a bit groggy and surprised to find Blair at his side. Even
more surprised at the huge grin gracing the boy's face.
"Papa, you have scissors, too! Just like Uncle Mica." Blair bounced in delight at the discovery.
"What?" Jim asked, worried that the lack of food had made the boy delusional.
"Scissors. Uncle Mica used to look faraway, like you just did, and Aunt Ruthie would touch his
arm and call his name, real calm like, to bring him back. I just did that for you!" The bouncy boy
finally stopped to take a breath.
"Sciss--? You mean seizures." Jim wiped a hand across his face. "And no I didn't have one." He
didn't. Did he? No, just lack of food and sleep. "Just a little spell of some kind. I'm fine now,
Little Bit. I'm sure it won't happen again."
Blair puffed up, full of pride. "That's okay, Papa, I know how to bring you back!"
Jim made sure the weather had cleared enough so they would be able to get home this time.
Two and a half hours later, father and son were ensconced in the armchair in front of a roaring
fire, ready for another cup of hot chocolate.
Jim sat watching Blair nap contentedly in his lap. The boy hadn't finished his second cup of
cocoa before he fell asleep. The beleaguered father couldn't rest though. His mind wouldn't stop
playing all the "might have beens" over and over in his head. His indulgence in play had almost
cost his son his life.
The little boy's shifting deeper into his side brought Jim back to the moment. Blair had never
questioned their getting home. The trust the boy placed in him filled Jim with both pride and
fear. How could he live up to the expectation? With a heavy sigh, he rested his head against the
back of the chair. He'd take it a day at a time. That's all he could do.
He had learned his harsh lesson well. Never take for granted the gift he'd been given, and guard it
well, for it could easily be taken away.
The end
A Drift
by Klair
almost ten feet. While the right shaft went straight back before ending, the left had the beginnings
of a downward shaft dug out about eight feet deep. It was in this dark pit that Jim found Blair.
After pulling the trembling child from the crude shaft he'd fallen in, Jim alternated between giving
hugs and scoldings all the way home. Jim's final commentary on the episode had Blair eating his
supper standing up that evening. Jim boarded up the entrance to the mine after that, even though
Blair insisted he'd learned his lesson. No sense taking unnecessary chances he thought back then.
He chided himself again for not taking his own advice this day.
hand in front of his face, even right against his nose! It'd seemed an eternity before Jim
appeared. Relief overwhelmed him. He vaguely remembered the stern lecture that followed, cut
short by crushing bear hugs, and the punishment that came when they got home. The only vivid
memories that persisted were the eeriness of total darkness and the comfort of Jim's embraces
after being found.
on the shoulder. "I'll be right back, Little Bit, and then I'll make a fire."
off those damp clothes. We'll get you warmed up and then under the covers to wait this tempest
out."
Blair stilled at this explanation. A slave?
Blair's acceptance of Ethan meant a great deal to him. Jim placed a soft kiss on top of the curly
head resting against his chest. The storm still raged outside and now without the need to comfort
his son, Jim returned to kicking himself about their predicament.
soon The darkness frightened him more than the blizzard outside. It brought back too many bad
memories. He wished they could go home now.
hole to get a look at their situation. A quick peek confirmed his fears. The blizzard still raged.