Tessa, Richie, and MacLeod belong to Rysher/Davis. Jim and Blair are the property of Pet Fly and UPN. The characters of Blair and Richie as children belong to Klair and M. Riley, respectively. Paddy and Justin belong to BCW.

Choices of the Heart
by BCW, Klair and M. Riley

Patrick Choate pulled up on Dancer's reigns at the outskirts of Cascade, looking behind him at his traveling companions. Jim had to break a string of horses for the army on a short deadline - a task he felt he could complete on time if his nine-year old "top hand" were otherwise occupied. So Paddy had volunteered to bring the boys into town for supplies - Blair "in charge" of getting the Ellison list filled, and to check in with the schoolmarm and to pick up new assignments.

"How long are we staying in town, Baba?" Justin asked excitedly as he looked around at the activity in Cascade.

"School work, supplies, home," his father said sternly.

"But, Baba, Uncle Jim said Blair could spend the night," Justin said, turning back to face his father.

"But, Uncle Paddy, Papa said I could stay the night," Blair said at the same time.

"And he will," Choate replied firmly, nudging Dancer forward, "but at the Chelsea."

Justin and Blair both pouted as they looked around at the exciting activities going on around them.

"Can we go see Darryl?" Blair asked tentatively.

"And have supper at the restaurant?" Justin asked excitedly.

Choate looked down at Blair riding to his left. "After seeing Miss Sheila and Mr. Taggert, you can go play." He turned to fix his own son with a stern gaze. "And if the report on your progress in your studies is good then maybe we'll stay to supper."

Justin and Blair both fidgeted a little in their saddles at the veiled threat, both hoping for good reports from Miss Sheila.

They were quiet for the rest of the ride.

~~~

Miss Sheila looked up from her desk at the sound of the door opening.

"Mr. Choate, what I pleasant surprise. I was expecting Mr. Ellison."

Paddy took off his hat, both boys copying their guardian's move.

"He had something he had to take care of and sent me in his place."

She gave a small smile. "Very well then, boys, take a seat, please. I have math, spelling and grammar quizzes to give you."

The groans started by the boys ended abruptly as they heard Paddy pull out a chair and sit down behind them.

Both boys quietly slid into two adjacent desks and waited patiently while Miss Sheila gathered her papers.

~~~

"Times up, boys. Pass your papers to me, please." Miss Sheila took the completed tests to her desk. "You three might want to run some other errands while I grade these. I should be finished in an hour." She returned her attention to the papers.

Feeling like a dismissed schoolboy, Paddy shepherded the boys to the door with a terse, "Yes, ma'am," to the schoolmarm.

"Can we go see Darryl now?" Blair asked.

"After we finish with supplies."

"But then we'll have to go back to see Miss Sheila," Justin told him.

"And she doesn't like it when you're late, Uncle Paddy," Blair informed
his uncle solemnly.

Paddy looked back and forth between his charges. "All right, Darryl, then back to see Miss Sheila, then supplies," he amended.

They reached the modest home of the sheriff only to have Miss Rhonda come out to greet them on the porch.

"Hello, boys, Mr. Choate. Please, don't come any closer. Darryl is down with a nasty case of the flu and I don't want any of you catching it."

Blair took a couple of steps closer. "Is he going to be okay?" he asked, his voice full of concern for his young friend.

"Yes, but the doctor said no visitors. He needs lots of rest. I'm sorry, boys."

"That's all right, Miss Rhonda," Paddy told her as he began steering the boys away. "We'll look in on him when we come back to town. Tell him we came by and asked after him."

"I will."

"We're going by Mr. Taggert's store. Do you need anything?"

She graced the young rancher with a pleasant smile. "Thank you, Mr. Choate, but we're fine."

"We'll get going then. We have to be back at the schoolhouse in an hour." The young rancher tipped his hat. "Day, ma'am."

"Good-bye, Miss Rhonda," both Justin and Blair called out as they waved their hands.

The little bell over the door signaled to the merchant that he had customers. Joel Taggert came from the back room, wiping his hands on his apron.

"Hello, Choate, boys. I wasn't expecting you until later this month."

"Three new hands and a growing boy to feed, Joel."

The merchant laughed, his eyes tracking Blair and Justin to the candy counter. "Yeah, I know what you mean. My own boys are eating me out of house and home."

"Blair, chico," Paddy called as he pulled his own list from his vest pocket. "Didn't your father give you a list to fill?"

"Huh?" Blair said, reluctantly tearing his eyes from the display of sweets.

"A list. Do you have your father's list?" the young rancher repeated patiently.

"Oh!" Blair began digging through the pockets of his jacket and pants, mumbling all the while. "I know it's here somewhere. I put it in a safe place. Yes! Here it is." The requested piece of paper was pulled with a flourish from his shirt pocket. Blair unfolded it and handed it to the shopkeeper. "Here, Mr. Taggert. Papa says to put it on our account."

The merchant gave the short list a quick glance, smiling when he read the last item. "He says here that he needs a penny's worth of candy for you and Justin."

For a moment the boys were unsure they had heard correctly.

"A whole penny's worth?" Justin asked cautiously.

Taggert laughed. "That's what it says here, boys."

"Work first, candy afterwards, chicos," Paddy said sternly.

"Ah, but, Uncle Paddy, what else do we gotta do?" Blair asked, dangerously close to a whine.

"We have to get back to Miss Sheila, and you boys haven't had your supper, yet. Now get a move on."

Now in a definite pout, Blair did whine. "But, Uncle Paddy--"

The young rancher put down the small sack of sugar he had begun filling and turned to his young nephew. "It seems like you two have been just asking to have your backsides warmed all day. I'll give you about three seconds to get to work or I'll grant your wish."

The two boys scampered off in different directions.

Blair began selecting some nails from a barrel. He muttered under his breath, "My Papa would've let us have the candy."

"What was that?"

The sound of his uncle's voice coming from right behind him made him jump. He turned wide, innocent eyes to the glaring Spaniard. "I said, finding out about our tests would be just dandy."

Paddy snorted. "Maybe we should then, sobrinito¹. Let's go. We'll be back for our supplies in a little while, Joel," the young rancher called over his shoulder as he took Blair and Justin by the backs of their coats and led them outside.

He didn't release his charges until the schoolhouse was in sight. Reaching the steps, he reminded the boys to mind their manners before entering.

The schoolmarm smiled at their approach. "Good. You're right on time. Please, have a seat." As the boys sat at the desks they had before, Paddy pulled a chair up for himself. Miss Sheila placed two envelopes in his hand. "These are lesson plans for the next month and the graded tests. Both boys are doing well." She turned her attention to Justin and Blair who squirmed under her scrutiny. "Justin, you still need to practice more on your arithmetic. Especially multiplication. Blair, you're writing content is as wonderful as ever, but you need to improve your penmanship - and spelling - so your reader doesn't have to work so hard to understand your writing." She turned to Paddy. "Keep them up on their reading, Mr. Choate, and remind Mr. Ellison to do the same."

"We do, Miss Sheila. And I will."

"Good. Then, I'll see you next month." She smiled as she stood and extended her hand.

Paddy took it gently, and shook it. "Thank you. Come on boys."

"We were good, Uncle Paddy. Can we get the candy now? Please?"

"I thought you wanted to go get supper at the restaurant?"

The small boy's face lit up, then he frowned, unable to decide between two desires.

"Well, we could pick out the candy before we go to supper. It's still kinda early."

"All right, then. I have to go talk to my banker. You boys go help Mr. Taggert finish up our order, pick up your candy and meet me back at the hotel in. . .say, an hour. And no candy until after supper. Entiendes, chicos²?"

"Yes, sir," Blair sighed.

"Yes, Baba," Justin said more brightly, as he began tugging his young friend down the street. "See you in an hour."

"What are you so happy about?" Blair said sourly at the aspect of losing candy.

"We've got an hour to ourselves."

"But we have to help Mr. Taggert."

"He's probably finished by now, or almost. Come on, the quicker we get there, the quicker we'll get done."

"Race ya!" Blair yelled as he took off down the boardwalk.

They entered Taggert's store at a dead heat.

Ten minutes later, the boys emerged from the store, clutching their bounty. Helping Mr. Taggert had earned them an additional penny's worth of candy. They turned towards the hotel and ran right into Richie MacLeod.

"Hey, you guys, where's the fire?" Richie quipped, catching himself before he ended up sprawled in the dust. If he ruined another suit of clothes Tessa would have his hide.

"Sorry, Richie," the boys chorused in tandem.

"Hey," the redhead replied in greeting. "What are you two doing in town alone? You're kind of young to be wandering around."

"I'm as old as you are, Richie MacLeod," Justin retorted, sniffing indignantly. "'Sides, we're not exactly alone. My baba's here, too."

"Baba?" Richie repeated, casting Blair a confused glance and cocking his head to the side.

"It means father in Chinese," Blair explained patiently. "Justin's mama was Chinese," he elaborated.

"Oh," Richie uttered matter-of-factly. "My ma was Irish, I think."

"She's real pretty, too," Blair told him. "Like my mama was."

"You mean, Tessa? She's not my real ma. My real ma died when I was just a kid back in San Francisco."

"Oh," the two smaller boys intoned together, unsure what to say to that. Blair added a belated, "sorry," that had Justin nodding his head in silent agreement.

Richie gave a slight shrug of his narrow shoulders - a gesture the boys would come to associate with their new friend - and bounced the small, red ball in his hands against the wall of the building beside him. "It's okay. I don't remember her much. Anyway, Tessa and Mac adopted me and all. They're real nice, even if they do have a lot of rules."

Both Justin and Blair nodded solemnly, all too familiar with the concept. "Yeah, rules," Blair mumbled unhappily.

"So how come you call them by their first names if they're your parents now?" Justin asked. "My baba has a fit when I do that anymore."

Another shrug. "I don't know. I never had parents before. . .not that I remember. Somehow 'ma' and 'pa' just doesn't feel right. Mac says I should take my time. He says I'll know when the time is right." He pondered that silently a moment, then "maybe," he murmured more to himself than his audience.

They stood in awkward silence for a minute, then Blair offered his bag of treats to Richie.

"Want a piece of candy?"

"Sure! Tessa's not real big on sweets."

"Neither is Papa," Blair sighed, and seeing Justin nod, added, "and neither is Uncle Paddy." He leaned in closer and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. "We got an extra penny's worth for helpin' Mr. Taggert. He always rewards you if you offer to help."

Richie nodded. "Thanks. I'll remember that," he mumbled around a cinnamon jawbreaker.

"So," Justin said as the three of them walked down the street, "you want to do something with us? We don't have to meet Baba at the hotel for supper for another hour."

"What do you want to do?"

"How about follow the leader?" Blair suggested.

The other boys agreed and Richie was elected the first leader by the process of eeny-meeny-miny-moe. And besides, he owned the ball they began tossing between them as they moved down the street.

Richie tossed his ball to Blair, who tossed it to Justin, who tossed it back to Richie. This went on and on, back and forth while the boys laughed and raced wildly towards the town limits.

After almost thirty minutes of play, the last toss sailed high above Justin's head. The small boy jumped in an attempt to catch it, but missed. The ball ricocheted off the wall of an abandoned building on the seedy side of town and disappeared behind it.

All three raced in that direction, only to pull up short at the railroad tracks, the dividing line between the "respectable" side of town and the red light district. They eyed one another uneasily.

"Go get it, Richie," Justin said, motioning across the tracks.

"You go get it. You missed the throw."

Justin looked toward the last place they'd seen the ball, than back at his companions. "Blair--"

"Uh-uh, not me." He shook his head emphatically. "Papa would skin me alive if he caught me over there."

"But he's not here," Justin argued. "And we won't tell."

Blair shook his head firmly. "He'd know."

Justin frowned. "Come on, Richie. It's your ball," he whined, wondering if his father would include the tracks as part of his list of 'dangerous places'.

"I'm not allowed to play over there," young MacLeod confided. "But I'll go. . .if you're scared to."

Justin bristled visibly at the inference. "Who's scared? Not me." He hitched up the waist of his britches, bolstering his courage, and gazed fearfully behind him toward town to make sure no one was watching -- especially a particular someone. "Okay, I'll get it." One more glance at his friends and he took a tentative step forward, then another. He tripped over one of the rails of the tracks and tried to cover the near-fall by straightening his shoulders and plodding onward.

Blair and Richie watched anxiously, wondering what fearsome creature might jump out at the dark-haired boy at any moment. They were both tensed to bolt, but stood resolutely in place, trying to gather the mettle to come to Justin's defense, should the need arise.

After what seemed like an interminable time, Justin disappeared around the corner of the dilapidated shack. Seconds seemed to stretch endlessly while Richie and Blair waited for their friend to reappear, ball in hand.

"Something's wrong. He should be back by now," Blair said, scanning the buildings in front of them for signs of Justin.

"Nah, he's just having trouble finding it."

"What if a bear got him?"

"There aren't any bears in town. Besides, we'd a heard something."

"What if an eagle swooped down--"

"We didn't see any eagle."

"Well, I don't like it," Blair said, as he stomped across the tracks to find Justin.

Richie looked over his shoulder towards the center of town before turning to follow his young friend.

"Justin!" Blair called loudly as they came around the edge of the dilapidated building. "Quit foolin' around. Uncle Paddy's gonna be mad."

"Come on, Justin, this ain't funny," Richie added.

Both stopped. He wasn't there.

"Justin?" Blair called, becoming fearful. "Justin?" he said again as he took a tentative step towards a hole in the boardwalk. "Justin?" He took another step forward and the ground gave way beneath his feet.

"Blair!" Richie called, reaching out to grab Blair's flailing arms. That motion, plus the unsteady ground, carried both of them over the edge of the precipice.

Richie hit bottom hard, and yelled out as his ankle twisted beneath him. Blair was coughing up a storm off to his right as fistfuls of dirt showered down, blinding them and temporarily blocking out the sun overhead. It was several minutes before the dust settled and they felt secure enough to inch toward one another and clear their vision. They huddled together, both gazing up at the opening above them.

"You think Justin fell, too?" Blair asked shakily, leaning into the older boy for comfort.

"Maybe." Richie reached out into the darkness that surrounded them, finding several rocks and clods of earth on the ground to his side and back. When he reached forward, running his fingers over the pit's surface, one of his questing hands met something soft. He reared back at first, then tentatively scooted forward and touched the object again. "Justin?" he ventured, and received a muffled groan in answer. "It's him!" he exclaimed, feeling rather than seeing Blair move up beside him again. Richie pulled his hand into the meager light from above, and studied the sticky wetness on his fingers. Blood. "He's hurt."

Working together they carefully maneuvered the other boy into the center of the nearly round area they found themselves in.

A deep cut marred Justin's forehead just above his left eye and blood ran in rivulets down the side of his head.

"We need a kerchief or somethin'," Richie muttered.

Blair dutifully dug through his pockets, pulling the aforementioned article out. "It's clean," he said, offering it to the older boy. He watched Richie wrap it around Justin's head and pull it snug, all the while worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. "Is he dead?" he asked, close to tears.

"Nah. Just got a bump on the head is all. He'll be right as rain in a day or two."

Blair nodded, even as he realized that Richie was probably just trying to convince himself.

"We need to get out of here and get Justin to the doctor's," Blair whispered. "Let's look around for something we can climb up."

Richie scanned the debris around them. "Blair, there's nothing here big enough."

Blair thought about that a minute. He wished his father were there. All he'd have to do is call and Papa'd be there. "Hey! Let's start shouting. Maybe someone's around."

Richie and Blair shouted for help until their voices rasped and their throats ached.

"This isn't working and it's getting darker," Richie said, starting to feel truly scared. His ankle throbbed at even the slightest movement.

"Maybe there's another way out." Blair stood, and with a hand touching the wall to his right walked into the darkness behind them. He only got about six feet before he came to what seemed to be a boarded up shaft. He walked back to his friends. "I think this is an old mine shaft. It only goes back a little ways more." He pointed to where he'd just come from. His stomach growled and Richie's answered in apparent empathy. Blair pulled his candy sack from his jacket pocket. "Guess we get to have candy for supper." In better circumstances that would have brought a smile to the younger boy's face. At that moment he would have eaten a pile of spinach if it meant that Uncle Paddy, or Richie's father, would find them soon. He'd eat it every day of the week if his papa appeared to get them out. The two children each sucked on a jawbreaker, waiting for their friend to wake up, and a rescuer to come.

~~

Paddy looked up at the clock on the lobby wall for the third time in the past fifteen minutes. They were late. Snatching up his hat, he slammed it on his head as he angrily strode from the hotel. Two little boys he knew were in for a heap of trouble.

~~

Blair shifted closer to Justin's body. "He's been out a long time."

As if in answer to his friend, Justin stirred.

"Justin?"

"Ow. My head hurts." The little boy tried to sit up. "What happened?"

Blair reached out to steady his friend. "You fell down a hole."

"And we followed you," Richie told him as he also moved to help.

"Well, let's get out of here. Baba's gonna spank us for sure."

"We'd love to oblige you, Choate," Richie said, "but there's no way out."

Three pair of frightened eyes regarded each other in silence.

~~

Paddy stood in the middle of the boardwalk. Joel had told him that the boys had left his store over an hour ago. Growing angrier by the moment, the young rancher tried to think of where his boys would go. 'Just wait until I get my hands on you two,' he thought as he headed back towards the sheriff's.

Choate opened the jailhouse door with an angry twist of his hand. Sheriff Banks sat at his desk, a surprised look on his face.

"Simon, I'm sorry to bother you, but --" The rancher broke off when he realized they were not alone. "I'm sorry," he said quickly.

"No apologies necessary, Mr. Choate," Duncan MacLeod said, one arm wrapped reassuringly around his wife's waist, the other held tightly at his side, hand fisted.

"I won't be a bother, I just wanted to know if you've seen Justin or Blair, Simon."

The three adults shared a look.

"You mean they're missing, too?" Simon asked.

"Too?"

"Richie hasn't come home," Duncan informed him. "It's not like him to stay out too long without checking in with us. Not after a certain little talk I had with him about doing just that."

Paddy could well imagine what that 'little talk' had consisted of; he'd had a few of those with his own imp.

"Blair knows better, too. I know for a fact that he caught he--" Sheriff Banks cleared his throat, remembering a lady was present. "Um, excuse me, ma'am. He caught himself some grief for running off with my Darryl not much more than a year ago. Youngins just don't have any idea the worry they cause their folks."

"But, what should we do?" Tessa asked, hands worrying the skirt of her dress. "It will be dark soon. Maybe they are hurt, or lost." She was working herself into a tither and nail biting would not be far behind.

"Calm down, Love. We'll find them, won't we, Choate?" Duncan said, throwing Paddy a meaningful glance over Tessa's head.

"Yes. Yes, of course. Do not fret, senora," Paddy assured her, taking the hint. "I'm sure they've just lost track of the time. If we spread out it's only a matter of time before we find them, safe and sound."

Tessa gave him a weak, grateful smile. "Yes, with all of us looking it won't take any time at all."

"Tessa, maybe you should wait at home...just in case Richie comes home on his own," Duncan said diplomatically, for all the good it did him.

His wife hurrumphed under her breath and turned to face him with hands-on-hips. "If you wish to wait at home, Duncan, you may. I am going to search for our son," she told him firmly.

A small smiled graced the Scot's lips. "We are going to search for our son," he corrected, brushing a light kiss against her forehead. He turned to the others. "You heard her, gentlemen. Where should we start?"

Four hours later, the four adults had searched all the places they thought their children likely to be and were no closer to finding them.

Paddy fought hard to keep his rising panic in check. Ellison had entrusted him with his son's care. What if something horrible had happened to them? He'd never forgive himself. "Someone should go for Ellison. He'd want to know what's happened."

~~~

Jim Ellison slapped the haunch of the horse he'd just finished training, encouraging it into the corral with the others. He only had three more mounts to break to fill the contract he had with Fort Bridger. Without the usual distractions and interruptions of parenthood, he was ahead of schedule. The horses would be ready and he would have some time to spend with Blair. Maybe take the boy fishing. That would be nice. Blair had only been gone a day and a night, but in spite of the gained productivity, Jim felt an unease, an incompleteness, and looked forward to his son's return by supper time. Last night he had slept restlessly, strange dreams of darkness and fear haunting him.

Jim closed the corral gate and was headed back to the barn when he heard a horse galloping towards him. The horse was being ridden hard and Jim tensed as Deputy Rafe came into view. His feelings of unease increased and he continued to the barn to saddle Sentry, just in case.

By the time Jim led a ready-to-ride Sentry from the barn, Rafe entered the yard, bringing his horse to a stop. The animal stood quivering with exertion, lathered in sweat. The rider didn't look much better.

"Jim! Glad I caught you before you left," Rafe began as he saw Jim get into his saddle. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Blair, Justin and the MacLeod boy are missing. We've had search parties out since last night. They haven't been found yet. Simon sent me to fetch you."

"Thanks, Rafe." Jim tipped his hat to the winded deputy, pushing his rising fear down deep. "Stay and rest yourself and your horse. I know the way to town." He lit out at a full gallop before Rafe had a chance to answer.

Jim rode directly to Simon's office. Tossing Sentry's reins and a two-bit piece to a teenager standing by the entrance, with an order to "Take him to the livery," he strode towards the jailhouse. Once there, Jim flung open the office door to find Simon pouring over a map of town.

"Jim! I didn't expect you for another hour."

"I had incentive. Have the boys been found yet?"

"No," Simon said with disgust, drawing a hand across his face. "We've searched every street and building in town. I've got folks searching the woods now."

"Blair wouldn't--"

"I didn't think so, but we need to check, just in case."

"Where's Choate?"

"I finally convinced him and the MacLeods to go eat something. We've all been up all night searching. They're over at the MacLeod place on Hyde street."

"Thanks for all your efforts, Simon. I'll go see Choate and the MacLeods and then join the search."

"I'm sorry, Jim. We're doing all we can."

"I know that, Simon. We'll find them. And when we do, they'd better have a damn good reason for putting us through all this grief."

Jim hurried over to the MacLeods' home and knocked anxiously on the door. "Hello? It's Jim Ellison."

The door flew open and he found himself face to face with Patrick Choate.

"Ah, mi amigo. Lo siento. Perdóneme, por favor--"

"Nothing to forgive. It's not your fault. Give me the details and where we're at."

~~~

Jim was filled in over a steaming cup of coffee, courtesy of Tessa MacLeod, and could find no fault with the searches that had been held so far. He was bone-tired after several days of backbreaking work and from the hard ride to Cascade, but from the looks of Paddy and the MacLeods, they were in even worse shape. It was obvious that no one had slept a wink the night before and the strain was starting to show.

"What if they've been kidnapped?" Tessa said, pacing the length of the sitting room.

All three men shared a look. The thought had occurred to each of them, and now that it had been put into words...

"It would be pretty hard to get three boisterous boys out of town unnoticed," Jim reasoned. "And we haven't received a ransom note. Don't worry, Mrs. MacLeod. Don't ask me why, but I feel like the boys are close by."

"Tessa, please," she corrected.

Jim smiled and nodded. "Tessa, then."

"He's right, Love. I've had a feeling all along that we're just not looking in the right places," Duncan admitted, taking her hand and pulling her up to his side. He couldn't explain that he had felt a sense of anticipation several times during the search, as if he could almost feel Richie's pre-Immortal presence. The feeling had been fleeting each time and, try as he might, he hadn't been able to hone in on it.

Tessa already knew of his immortality, of course, but she hadn't been told that Richie might one day become Immortal, as well. That was a secret that Duncan carried with him, afraid for her or Richie either one to learn of it. For Tessa, it would be a constant worry. For Richie, an excuse to be even more reckless than your average high-spirited twelve-year-old. Then, too, the existence of Immortals remained a well-guarded secret. No, he could only hope that, wherever Richie and the other boys were, he or one of the others would stumble over their path soon.

~~~

"All around the mulberry bush--"

"Blair."

"--The monkey chased the weasel--"

"Blair!"

"--The monkey thought it all was in fun--"

"BLAIR!!!"

As his name echoed loudly off the dirt walls around them, Blair stopped singing and looked up into the annoyed face of Richie MacLeod.

"What?"

"Enough with the stupid song."

"I'm nervous. Okay?" he snapped as he moved closer to Justin's too-still body.

"Can't you be nervous quieter?" Richie groused. "You musta sung that stupid song a hundred times."

Justin turned until he could see the older boy. "We're all scared, Richie," he said softly, his voice tinged with pain.

Richie frowned but didn't debate that.

"How long do you think we've been down here?" Blair asked. They had finished off what remained of the candy during the long night and were all suffering from the effect of too much sugar and nothing to drink. "You think they've been looking for us?"

"Sure they've been looking. . .just not in the right place."

Blair settled in even closer to Justin, putting his arm around the thin shoulders. "Papa'll find us."

"He doesn't even know, Blair," Justin said quietly.

"Papa'll find us. I know he will," the young man said with conviction.

Both boys started as Richie suddenly climbed to his feet, teetering precariously on the uneven ground as he balanced most of his weight on his good leg. He moved cautiously around the perimeter of their earthen cell, pulling on the roots protruding in places from the walls.

"Wha' cha doin'?" Blair asked, peering up at him from Justin's side.

"Lookin' for hand holds. Maybe I can climb out and get help."

"I don't know, Richie, it's pretty steep," Justin said, eyeing the opening above them.

"We gotta do something. I don't think we can take another night like last night. It got awful cold." A tremor ran through the slightly-built boy at the thought.

"Yeah, and I'm hungry," Blair added, his stomach rumbling loudly as if to prove his point.

"Yeah, and we're gonna need water soon," Richie reminded them. Finding a sturdy root protruding just over his head, he took a firm hold of it and pulled himself up, kicking his legs as he climbed hand over hand. As soon as his hands reached the top of the root where it disappeared back into the wall, he wrapped his legs about the lower end and searched for another hold.

"MacLeod, don't!" Justin ordered in a terse tone as he sat up, wincing from the pain in his head. "Come down from there before you break your neck!"

"Yeah, Richie! You're gonna fall!" Blair told him, anxiously watching the older boy's shaky progress.

"Don't worry," was the distracted reply.

Justin and Blair huddled below him, watching mesmerized. Blair's teeth worried his lower lip while Justin pulled at the tail of his shirt with nervous hands, both unconsciously holding their breath as Richie tried to pull himself further up the wall.

The fingers of Richie's free hand clutched at a rock and he scrambled for purchase even as he felt it pull free of the wall. He barely had time to shout a warning before it fell to the floor below, missing his comrades by scant inches and showering them with small bits of dirt and debris.

The small avalanche buffeted Richie, the dirt temporarily blinding him. He lost his tenuous hold on the vine and dropped back down, crying out as his bad ankle took the brunt of the fall.

Blair hastened to his side and pulled him to a sitting position, while Justin gave a sigh of relief as he saw that Richie was more angry than hurt.

"Stupid rock," Richie grumbled, shaking the excess dirt from his hair. "Geez, Tessa's gonna kill me," he said, bemoaning the condition of his clothes. He winced then, both hands going to his injured ankle. "Ow."

"I told ya, MacLeod," Justin said with a heavy sigh as he crawled over to where Richie had landed.

"Does it hurt bad?" Blair asked, eyes round as he took in the discolored and swollen skin as Richie unlaced his shoe to get a better look.

"Nah," Richie replied with false bravado. "It doesn't hurt." He bit back a yelp as Justin tried to manipulate the joint, and added hastily, "much."

"Don't think it's broke, anyway," Justin told them, leaning back against the wall and sighing. "Guess we won't be climbing out, huh?"

"Guess not," Blair concurred, mimicking the other boy and leaning back with a sigh.

Sitting side by side, the dejected threesome gazed longingly at the opening above them, watching through the swiss-cheesed roof as the clouds vied with blue sky to fill that part of their world.

When Blair started softly singing Pop Goes the Weasel to himself again, the other two quietly joined in.

~~~

Jim Ellison stood near the train station, hands on his hips, totally frustrated. He'd searched every street and building of the town, his senses of hearing and smell open as far as he dared -- nothing. He didn't pick up any sign of his missing son. He sighed heavily, taking in the sight of Choate, the MacLeods and Sheriff Banks returning from their search, empty-handed, as well. "Damn," he swore to himself. What good were these senses if they didn't help him find the boys! He scanned the area beyond the tracks, looking at the shoddy buildings and tents that made up the seedy side of town that the miners and cowboys patronized when the workday was done. Turning back to confer with the other worried parents, he caught a glimpse of a familiar large black cat streaking behind a building across the tracks. A flutter of hope seized the sentinel. He started across the tracks.

"Jim!?" he heard Patrick call. His only response was to motion with his hand to follow as he continued his fast paced walk. A walk that turned into a swift run when a shaky rendition of "Pop Goes the Weasel" reached his ears. It was the most glorious thing he'd ever heard.

"Blair! Justin!" he bellowed.

The singing stopped as he reached a dilapidated old mining shack, to be replaced with hoarse shouts of "See, I told you he'd come!" and "Uncle Jim! We're down here!"

The loud creak that greeted his highly sensitive ears as he entered the tumble-down building stopped him mid-step. He put out a restraining arm as Choate tried to pass him - the MacLeods and Simon right behind him.

"Hold on. This floor's not stable."

Peering in to the dim structure, they all noticed the hole at once.

"Justin!" Patrick Choate shouted.

"Baba?!"

"Are you boys all right? Is Richie with you?"

"I'm here."

"Petit!" Tessa called out, grasping one of Duncan's hands as an anchor, fighting the urge to rush headlong into the pit. "Petit, are you all right?"

"Tessa?" came a tentative reply. "Is Mac there too?"

"I'm here, Richie. Don't worry, son, you'll be home before you know it," the Scot promised, feeling the boy's pre-Immortal presence wash over him like a welcome embrace.

"Papa?"

"I'm here, Little Bit. We'll have you out real soon. Just sit tight."

"Justin and Richie are hurt."

"How bad, son?"

"Not too bad. Justin hit his head, but it's not bleeding anymore. Richie's got a hurt ankle. It's all swelled up," Blair dutifully reported.

"Just stay put, all of you," Duncan said. "Don't move around if you don't have to. We'll get you out."

Jim turned to Simon. "The ground looks more stable on the other side of the hole. We need to break through that wall over there."

"That's no problem," Choate growled, moving around to the opposite side, getting to work.

"We're probably going to need a rope or ladder," Simon said. "The Golden Slipper Saloon's the closest building. I'll bet they have something we could use to haul those boys out of there."

"We're awful thirsty, Papa," Blair said in a tired whine.

"I'll grab a canteen, too," Simon said. "I'll be right back." He took off at a dead run.

Mac and Jim joined Paddy, breaking down enough boards to make a decent sized entryway. The ground proved to be quite solid on that side of the building. Tessa was the first one through. The men followed the anxious mother to peer over the edge of the twelve-foot deep hole.

"Petit?" Tessa called into the dim pit.

Richie hobbled out of the shadows and squinted as he looked up, his hand shading his eyes. "Tessa?"

Blair popped up beside Richie, a huge smile breaking out on his face. "Papa!"

Choate called down from next to Jim. "Poppet, where's Justin?"

Blair pointed off into the shadows. "He's sitting over there. His head hurts when he moves. We've been keeping him still."

"Chingado," the Spaniard murmured under his breath. Jim silently agreed with his friend's summary of the situation, swearing to himself, as well. Their boys had outdone themselves in mischief-making this time.

The sound of the sheriff returning drew the worried parents' attention. The tall man came through the opening, a coil of rope slung over his shoulders, a canteen in one hand, and the saloon's clientele and employees trailing behind him.

"Okay, boys, I've got some water for you. Catch," he instructed, dropping the canteen into Richie's waiting hands. "Okay, now step back," he said, coming to the edge of the shaft. He flung one end of the rope into the hole while Jim, Paddy, Duncan and several other men got a good grip on the end, taking up the slack. Simon took hold of the rope and, poised on the lip, he gave his orders. "Here's the plan. I'm going down. I'll hand a boy up as far as I can and one of you grab him and pull the rest of the way. Got it?"

Everyone present nodded, and Simon began his descent. As soon as he called out that he was down, Jim, Paddy and Duncan dropped the rope and lay prostrate around the pit's lip.

"Come on, son," the sheriff said to Richie, "you first."

"No, Sheriff Banks," Richie said, leaning away from the big man. "Take Justin, he's hurt the worst."

"Yeah, sheriff," Blair quickly agreed. "Do Justin first. He's worser."

Sheriff Banks nodded solemnly as he turned to the small boy propped up against the dirt wall. "Justin? Can you stand up, boy?"

"I think so," he mumbled as he tried to struggle to his feet. Before he could make it half way, he grabbed his head. "Oww."

Simon leaned forward, catching the child before he fell.

"Justin? Querido?" Paddy called down. "Simon? Qué está sucediendo³ ?"

Jim placed a calming hand on his friend's back. "It's all right, amigo. Justin just got a little dizzy," he said softly. "Simon caught him before he fell."

Down below, Simon lifted the slight figure in his arms. "Jim? Patrick? Here he comes. Careful now. Can you reach out your arms, Justin?"

"Hurts," the small boy whimpered.

"I know it does," Simon told him.

"Chiquito. Extiende tu mano hacia nosotros. Jim y yo te alcanzaremos⁴."

Tentatively, and in obvious pain, thin arms inched forward, reaching up towards the light.

Extending himself as far as he could with Duncan anchoring his legs, Jim strained a little more, not quite able to reach the outstretched small hands of Justin.

"Simon, can you push him farther up?"

"I'll try," Simon grunted, adjusting his grip around the boy's legs to put his hands around his ankles. In a smooth press he lifted the boy until he felt the weight being taken from his arms.

"We got him, Simon!" Jim called down, and before he could turn, the small body was gently taken from his arms.

The big rancher looked over his shoulder in time to see Paddy cradling the little boy tenderly to his chest as he slowly fell to his knees in the dirt. "Pobrecito. Te lastimaste la cabeza. Estaba tan preocupado. Te lastimaste en algún otro lugar⁵?"

Justin clung to his father with desperate hands. "No, Baba," he whispered into the big man's chest.

Jim's triumphant shout brought a smile to the sheriff's face. He looked back down at the two remaining children.

"All right, Richie, your turn now."

Simon snatched the boy up to prevent him from putting any stress on his injured ankle. Carefully he pushed the boy up, a hand supporting Richie's bottom, the other holding onto the boy's good leg.

"Can you reach him?" Simon asked when Richie wasn't removed from his hands. "He's as high as I can lift him with that ankle."

Duncan pushed himself out farther over the pit, stretching his hand until he could feel Richie's fingers brush his. It wasn't enough.

Jim and the Golden Slipper's bouncer threw their weight across his legs to anchor him, holding tight as clumps of ground broke away beneath him.

"Richie! Reach out, son, I'll get you!"

"You'll fall," the boy cried, one fist wrapped tightly in the cuff of Simon's shirt for security.

"No. I won't fall, and neither will you. Trust me, Richie."

The small frightened face looked up into his and blue eyes locked with brown. Richie blinked once, then slowly unwound his fist from Simon's shirtsleeve, thrusting his hand up as high as he could, teetering precariously on his perch above the Sheriff's head.

Duncan's hand latched on to the thin wrist, his fingers wrapping around it as tightly as he dared.

Richie used the hold as leverage and swung out with his other hand, finding it wrapped in a steely grip, as well.

"I've got him! Pull us up!" MacLeod shouted.

Jim and the bouncer shifted, each taking hold of the Scot's belt as they dug in their feet, pulling back for all they were worth. As soon as Richie's hands cleared the lip of the hole they released Duncan and grabbed the boy, pulling him up into the waiting arms of his mother.

Tessa rambled on in French as her hands flew over his face and hair, looking for injuries. The words made no sense to the boy, but the sentiment came through clearly.

"I'm all right, Ma. Don't worry, it would take more than a stupid hole to hurt me."

Tessa had gone stock-still at the word 'Ma'. She and Duncan shared a look over the dirt-matted head of curls before a brilliant smile lit her face. Cupping Richie's face, she leaned in and kissed his forehead, pulling back to find him regarding her with wide eyes.

"What's the matter?" he asked curiously.

"Nothing's the matter. Everything is wonderful," she informed him, brushing her fingers through his hair and grinning foolishly.

"Come on, Toughguy," Duncan murmured, lifting his son in his arms as he stood. "Let's catch up to Justin and Choate."

"What about Blair?"

"He'll be right behind us," Duncan said, already striding toward town, Tessa at his side.

"Blair, it's your turn, son." Simon picked up the filthy child examining him quickly in the dim light. "You hurt anywhere?"

"Not really a lot. Just little stuff. I'm not bleeding." He held up his arms and the sheriff saw a few small cuts. There were probably bruises, too. The boy turned big blue eyes up to him. "I want to go home."

"Then home you will go," Simon said as he hoisted the boy over his head, feeling him snatched from his arms almost immediately.

Jim reached down with his right arm and half his torso, gripping one small grimy hand and yanking Blair to the top by the one arm. He rolled over, pulling Blair out of the hole and on top of him, wrapping both his arms tightly around his child before sitting up.

"Are you all right, Little Bit?" He'd heard what Blair told Simon, but needed to make his own inspection. Even as he asked the question, he uncinched his senses to answer his own question. Breathing and heartrate a bit fast, but that was understandable. A little tender in areas, and minor cuts. He'd need a whole cake of soap and many gallons of warm water to scrub the dirt from the boy trembling, but smiling, in his arms.

"I knew you'd come. I knew you'd find us. I stayed put, not like I could go anywhere, and I made noise just like you told me to. Did you hear me singing? I--"

"Yes, Little Bit," Jim said, hugging Blair close to him again. "I heard."

He stood up, taking Blair with him. He saw Choate and the MacLeods disappearing through the exit, the crowd that had gathered parting to let them pass. Jim was about to follow when he heard, "Any time, gentlemen. I could use a hand out of this hole." He turned back, reluctantly putting Blair down, and directed the lingering cowboys and miners from the saloon to help him pull the sheriff from the pit. Once the sheriff was out, Jim swung Blair back up into his arms before following his friends, Simon a step behind.

~~~

The doctor approached the small figure sitting on his examination table. "Let me take a look at that, boy," he said, placing his hands on the cut on Justin's scalp and scissoring his fingers to open it.

"Owww," Justin wailed, ducking his head down and away from the torturing touch.

Choate appeared at the doctor's side. "Can't you give him something?" he asked anxiously.

"It's just a small cut, Mr. Choate," the doctor said in a dismissive manner, not even turning to the rancher. "It'll hardly need stitches at all. Children tend to over dramatize an injury when their parent's are present." Then to Justin, he said sternly, "Come on, boy, now, it can't hurt all that much. Let me have a look. . ."

Suddenly, the doctor's hands weren't on the child anymore. An angry Choate had snatched the man away. "You have less of a way with children than you do with adults, Dr. McCoy. Go see to young MacLeod. Although, if I was Duncan or Tessa, I wouldn't let you near my cow."

Dr. McCoy attempted to stare Paddy down, for all of five seconds, then sniffed and turned away, moving to where the MacLeods hovered over their own charge. "All right, boy, let's take a look at that ankle."

Having missed the exchange between the doctor and Paddy, Tessa dutifully stepped aside to allow the man room to work. "Is it very bad, doctor?" she asked as he ran his hands over the now-exposed joint.

"We shall see, madam." He grasped the ankle in both hands, manipulating it roughly.

Richie yelped at the unexpected move, sinking back against Duncan's chest as if to escape the pain.

The Scot's arms tightened protectively around him, his jaw clenching in anger. "Is that necessary? It's not broken."

Doctor McCoy regarded him haughtily down the length of his nose. "Are you a doctor, sir?"

"No, I'm not, but it doesn't take medical training to see that the bone is intact," Duncan retorted. He had seen enough wounds in his nearly three-hundred years to be certain of that, though that was a fact he kept to himself.

McCoy harrumped his opinion of that and returned to his examination, pulling yet another cry from the boy as he pressed down on the swollen flesh...and suddenly found himself faced with six feet of angry Scot.

"That's enough," Duncan growled, both his tone and stance causing the smaller man to step back warily. He scooped Richie up as if he weighed nothing and turned to his wife, dismissing the doctor entirely. "Come on, Tessa, we're done here."

Jim entered the doctor's office, Blair still in his arms, almost asleep now, to find his friends on their way out.

Choate stopped next to him, letting the MacLeod's pass. He nodded towards the doctor. "Quack. We're taking the boys to the bathhouse to get cleaned up." He held up some medical supplies. "I've got what we need. Let's go." They left the office without giving the doctor another glance.

~~~

"Just lie still, Justin. This will be over before you know it."

Deep green eyes, glistening with tears but shining with trust, stared steadily at him. Even with the brave facade, the voice trembled a little as he asked, "Will it hurt?"

Jim glanced up at Paddy then back to the boy who lay on a table in the bathhouse, a towel cushioning his head. With as much gentleness as possible the two men had cleaned the small, but deep, wound of dirt. Jim had the needle brought from the doctor's office threaded with suture for the few stitches they deemed necessary to close the wound.

"I'm not going to lie to you, squirt, this will hurt a bit. Just keep your eyes on your father and hold his hands tightly. I'll be as careful as I can be."

The luminous green 'jewels' shifted their scrutiny to Choate. Paddy took the small, cold hands in his and gave them a reassuring squeeze.

Glancing over at Ellison for a moment, Justin whispered, "Estoy asustado, Baba6."

"No hay nada de que estar asustado. Todo estará bien. Tu eres un niño valiente, no es cierto pequeño⁷?

"Yes," Justin said softly, without conviction as he trained his full concentration on his father.

Jim used his sensitive vision to make the sewing as neat as possible. He didn't want the boy to have an ugly scar as a permanent reminder of this day. After the last stitch was carefully knotted, Jim cut the thread and straightened up.

"There. All done. You did real good, squirt."

"Vez, pequeño? Eses un niño muy valiente. Estoy muy orgulloso de tí⁸," the young rancher said with a smile as he cupped his hand against the downy cheek, brushing the stray tears away with his thumb.

Jim turned to where Blair sat watching the operation with wide blue eyes. He walked over to his son and knelt in front of him, patting the boy's knees, the sounds of Richie's objections to being vigorously bathed coming from the other side of the screen.

"It's about time you got cleaned up. Get out of those clothes so we can get you a bath."

The wide blue eyes got even bigger.

"But, Papa," Blair lowered his voice so it wouldn't carry over the screen separating them as Tessa's did, her scoldings while in French, very plain for what they were, "there's a girl out there."

Justin echoed his sentiments. "I'm not going out there with her there. What if she sees. . . you know," he gestured vaguely to his midsection, "me?"

It was the first time either man had laughed since the boys' disappearance. They did their best to school their faces into more serious expressions, with minimal results.

"I promise," Jim began, trying like hell to wipe the grin from his face as two pouty little boys looked on in disapproval, "she won't see any of your body that's not fit for a lady to see." He pulled a towel from the nearby table, wrapping it around his waist to demonstrate. "See? You'll be fine."

"Yeah, but what about when we get into the water?" Blair asked, still very skeptical. Justin nodded in agreement.

"Dios mio, she's a lady." Paddy took up the fight. "She does not want to see your bottom half. We will hold the towel up and she will avert her eyes until your . . . uh, privates are hidden. Now get those filthy clothes off so we can brush them while you're bathing."

The boys quickly stripped, wrapped towels around their middles up to their armpits, and scuttled out to the waiting tubs. Their fathers followed, still smirking. The boys stood next to the washtubs, turning to look at Tessa pointedly. The mother was engrossed in cleaning Richie's ears and hadn't noticed their entrance. Jim and Paddy exchanged looks with Duncan, who tried to hold back his own chuckle, understanding what the boys' reluctance was about.

"Ah, Tess, Love," he began, drawing his wife's attention. "Could you?" He made a turning motion with a finger, nodding in Blair's and Justin's direction.

The Frenchwoman took one look at the scarlet-faced boys and obliged their modesty by turning her head until she heard the all clear from Duncan. She turned back to her excavation of her son's filthy ears, the plaintive pleas from the boys in the other tubs joining Richie's.

"Ow! Ma! You're digging to China!"

"Hold still, Richie. I'm almost finished."

Indeed, she was. Richie's hair lay in damp curls, freshly washed, his face scrubbed so that the boy thought his freckles had been rubbed right off! Never in his life had his person been the focus of such intense washing.

"As soon as he's presentable again we need to find some ice for that ankle," Duncan said, thinking out loud. "How's it feeling, Toughguy?"

"S'okay," Richie mumbled, fidgeting as Tessa's washcloth attacked the back of his neck. "I think the water's helpin'," he added, squirming around to raise the injured appendage clear of the tub. "See?"

"Richie!" Tessa scolded as his motion drenched the apron of her dress. "I am as wet as I wish to be. Unless you want a smack where it will do the most good you will sit still for the rest of your bath." Her free hand rested firmly on one hip, a sure sign that her patience was wearing thin.

Richie looked to Duncan but the Scot was unsympathetic to his plight. The marginally subdued redhead moved his foot back into the tub with exaggerated care.

Clean water ran over Blair and Justin as the last of the soap was rinsed from their hair. Jim tossed Blair a washcloth with the command to, "Wash," as he began to brush the dirt from his son's clothes. Paddy soon was doing the same to Justin's.

Just as the adults in the room began to relax, the realization that their children had been returned to them relatively sound finally sinking in, Sheriff Simon Banks came into the room, a cigar clenched in his jaw.

"All right. Everyone who was still searching has been contacted that the boys have been found. What I want to know is, what the Sam Hill were you three doing over there?"

The three children became very quiet and still, quite uncomfortable at being the center of attention of every adult in the room.

"Well?" the sheriff said as the boys kept their eyes on the water, finding the washcloths and sponges in their hands very interesting. The sheriff approached the tub Blair was in. Blair looked up at a very stern-looking Simon Banks. "You first, son. What happened?"

Blair gulped audibly, looking from his two cohorts to his father and uncle then back to the sheriff. He began slowly, but picked up speed as their tale fell from his lips. "It was an accident. We didn't mean to go over there, but Richie threw the ball too high for Justin to catch so he had to go get it. Justin, that is, because it was his turn to catch the ball, and he wasn't scared, so he went and Richie and me waited, but Justin didn't come back so we went looking for him and when we got around the building the floor moved and Richie reached out to grab me as the floor broke and I fell and I guess I took Richie with me. Justin was already down there. I thought he might be dead, but Richie said he just hurt his head and put my handkerchief around his cut. And we shouted, but no one came and then I guess we fell asleep, then it was morning and we were, well, at least *I* was getting scared and so I started singing and then you all came and we were okay." He looked back to his father and uncle. "It was an accident. I'm sorry."

The sheriff ran one hand over his face. He said to the parents, "I've talked to the owner of that shutdown mine and he's going to raise the building and fill in that shaft better." Then he gave each boy a very stern look. "Is that the way it happened?" Both Richie and Justin nodded slowly. "Why didn't you come get me, my deputy or one of your folks when Justin didn't come back?" he asked exasperatedly.

When the children remained silent, Duncan prodded, "Richie, the sheriff asked you a question."

The boy studied the dirt under his fingernails for a moment, then went into his explanation. "Well, um...see when Justin didn't come back we thought maybe some wild animal had him trapped or something. If me and Blair took the time to go for help he could have been et up." He looked up from his recitation to find his new father regarding him from beneath lowered brows, the look clearly mirroring those of the other adults in the room. He squirmed under the intense scrutiny. "Well, it could have happened that way."

"Richie, how many times have you been told to stay away from that area?" Duncan demanded.

"Four," the boy promptly answered.

MacLeod's jaw worked for a moment at the unexpected honesty of that, while a snort of amusement sounded clearly from Sheriff Bank's direction. "That's right, four," he went doggedly on. "How many times do you need to be told something before you pay attention?"

"Five?" the boy offered guilelessly.

That closed the ancient Scot's mouth with a snap. He shot his bemused wife a helpless look before lifting a pail of clear water to rinse Richie off, muttering unintelligibly under his breath as he did.

The two ranchers smiled to themselves at his dilemma, having been there more than once in their 'parental' lives.

"And you, Mr. Choate," Paddy said sternly, addressing his own little mischief-maker. "You've been warned away from that place, haven't you?"

"No, sir."

"Justin Choate, you're telling me I haven't told you to stay away from dangerous places?"

"Yes, sir. You did."

"So, you admit disobeying me."

"Well. . .no, sir. You didn't say that place was dangerous."

"You couldn't think an abandoned mine wasn't dangerous, Justin!"

"No, sir. All I thought about was getting the ball."

The flustered Spaniard put his face in his hands, muttering swear words in Spanish, too softly for anyone to hear, except Jim.

The older rancher fixed his own son with a stern glare, but before Jim could even open his mouth, Blair blurted out, "It was an accident! I couldn't just leave Justin. Besides, he could of just been jokin' with us. We didn't know he was hurted or that it was dangerous until we fell in." The rancher tried to get a word in while Blair took a breath. He wasn't fast enough. "Besides, aren't you always telling me not to jump to collusions?"

Jim closed his eyes for a moment while he counted to ten. Opening them, he admitted, "That's conclusions, Little Bit, and, yes, I do." The rancher heard Blair's tummy gurgle beneath the bathwater. "We'll finish this discussion later, but right now I think you need to eat." He turned to Simon. "Are you about finished, Sheriff?"

"That's all I'll need for my report." He threw meaningful glances at the three quiet children. "You boys be careful from now on." Sheriff Banks withdrew a ball from his coat pocket and handed it to Richie before leaving. "I think this is yours."

"Thanks, Sheriff."

Banks nodded to the menfolk, tipped his hat to Tessa and took his leave, chuckling under his breath.

"Okay, Richie. Let's get you out of there before you get too clean," Duncan said wryly, raising a towel from the pile in the corner and holding it up. "Can you stand on your own?"

"Yeah, I think so, but..." He frowned, and slanted his eyes in Tessa's direction.

The Frenchwoman took the hint, looking ceilingward until Richie was safely wrapped in the fluffy towel. Duncan rubbed him down then perched him on a stool so that Tessa could see to toweling his hair dry. . .over his muffled protests.

The Scot didn't bother to try and dress his son again in his torn and dirty clothes, choosing instead to wrap him in a clean towel and hoist him into his arms for the short walk home.

"Pa!" Richie objected. "I can walk!"

"Not on that ankle, Toughguy," Duncan corrected, smiling over a two letter word that left him feeling two miles tall. "It's home and bed for you," he told him as he made for the door with his wife at his side carrying what remained of the boy's clothing. The threesome stopped in front of the still-bathing boys and their fathers.

"How's the head, Justin?" Duncan asked with a small smile.

"Okay. I hardly cried at all," the boy informed him, looking up as Paddy lay a gentle hand on his head.

"He was very brave," the rancher agreed.

"So was Blair," Justin added.

"I wasn't hurted," Blair informed the room at large, shifting in the rapidly cooling water.

"But I'm sure you were very brave, just the same," Tessa murmured, coming forward to brush a curl from his forehead. She leaned down, placing a light kiss on the cleared area.

Blair was wide-eyed when she stepped back, his mouth hanging open for several moments before it closed with an audible snap and a beatific smile replaced the look of surprise.

Tessa moved to Justin's tub next, repeating the process with him, careful to avoid his injury. The results were the same; a happily smiling little boy beamed up at her.

With a round of goodnights to all present, the MacLeods headed out.

"Bedtime, son," Duncan said as his bundle yawned widely.

"And food?" Richie added hopefully.

"And all the food you can eat," Tessa promised. "And a big glass of lemonade, just the way you like it."

Richie's face broke out in a blinding smile at that.

"And tomorrow you and I are going to have a long talk about going where you're not supposed to," Duncan intoned.

"But what about Justin getting et up?" came the plaintive wail as the Scot and his family disappeared around the corner.

Waving good-bye to the MacLeods, Jim turned to the two boys still in washtubs. "All right, you two, the coast is clear. Get out of that water before you wrinkle up into prunes."

Paddy helped his son from the tub. The boy still looked a bit pale; his head was obviously still hurting. He helped Justin back into his clothes while Jim supervised Blair's dressing. Tossing two silver dollars to the bathhouse manager, Jim lead the way out.

"It's getting kinda late, we should get a room. Stay the night. I don't think Justin's up to traveling tonight."

"Si, I agree. Let's try the Palace," Paddy said, indicating the hotel up the street.

The two men, Justin in Paddy's arms and Blair holding Jim's hand, entered the busy lobby of the Cascade Palace. Jim motioned to the vacant bench by the door, and Paddy sat there, Justin almost asleep on his shoulder and Blair droopy-eyed by his side. Jim approached the front desk.

"Hi, Serena, I need two rooms for the night, please."

The lovely woman behind the counter smiled apologetically to him. "I'm sorry, Mr. Ellison, I only have one room left."

Jim looked back at his companions. Justin asleep against Paddy's shoulder, Blair dozing against the young rancher's side, and Patrick, head resting against Justin's, sound asleep. He turned back to the desk clerk. "We'll take it. Also, I'd like a tray brought up. Soup, biscuits, steak or that house specialty fried chicken. Some milk and a couple beers would be nice, too." He cocked his head towards the three sleeping figures by the door. "They've had a rough time."

Serena smiled understandingly. "So I've heard. I'm glad the boys were found safe. I'll bring a tray of the best of the house."

Jim took the offered key. "Thank you, Serena." He walked back over to his family on the bench, smiling to himself that he'd come to think of all of them that way. He'd come west to escape his own family's rejection only to find a new one, a better one. One that accepted him for who he was. Watching the three peaceful sleepers, Jim felt truly blessed.

He shook Paddy gently. "Come on, amigo. You'll get a crick in your neck sleeping like that."

The younger rancher blinked awake. "I'm not asleep. I'm just resting my eyes." He looked up at Jim wearily. "It was too close."

Jim lifted Blair into his arms, the boy not waking, only shifting in his father's arms to get comfortable, before helping Paddy to his feet. "I won't argue with you there. We got their last room and they'll bring a tray. Let's go."

Slowly the two tired men climbed the stairs to the third story room.

The End

~~~~

Translations

1. nephew
2. Understand, boys?
3. What's happening
4. Reach out to me. Jim and I will get you.
5. My poor little one. You have hurt your head. I was so worried. Are you hurt anywhere else?
6. I'm afraid, Papa
7. There is nothing to be afraid of. It will be all right. Are you not my brave boy, little one?
8. You see, little one? You are my brave boy. I am very proud of you.

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