New Kid In Town
by BCW, Klair and M. Riley

Wyoming Territory, Cascade, spring of 1875

Richie sat slumped against the brick façade of his parents' newspaper office. Surveying the dusty main street he couldn't help but snicker at the sight. 'Such a hick town,' he pouted to himself. 'Nothin' to do but watch the trains come and go. Why did I agree to come with them?' he asked himself for the hundredth time. San Francisco was exciting. He missed the hustle and bustle of the big city. It was so alive. This place. . .what was the little cow-town's name again?. . .Oh, yeah, Cascade. Boring. Well, it could be exciting if she'd let him go to the other end of town across the tracks.

She had had a hissy the day after they arrived when he caught him peeking into a saloon while a dancer in a skimpy costume twirled around on a small stage. He'd gotten a good look at the woman's bare calves before being hauled away by his ear. The lecture his "parents" gave him about what constitutes acceptable behavior hadn't made much of an impression, although the threat of a bottom warming by him if it happened again did keep him from going back. He had gotten one of those
already for cussin' too much, and he didn't want another. His hand was hard. Lots harder than old lady Travers' ruler back at the orphan's asylum in San Francisco. And he had taken his britches right down for it, too. No, he sure didn't want another bottom warming any time soon.

Grown-ups! Parents! They were a new force to be reckoned with in his young life. In all his twelve years, he had been on his own. Well, that wasn't entirely true. A vague remembrance of a soft voice, tender hands, and a warm lap holding him when he was about four crossed his mind and faded quickly.

She was like that. Soft, warm, loving. A mother. He felt bad making her worry, so he tried not to.

He, on the other hand, was a total mystery. A father was something he had no memory of at all, and he had no clue how to relate to him.

Yet, when they had offered to adopt him he had agreed. 'Course it was that or go to jail for picking the wrong pocket. Wasn't much of a choice, not that he minded or anything. So now he was Richard - Richie for short - Ryan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. Whatever that meant. He had promised to explain it to him one day. Something to do with a place called Scotland, he knew that much. A father from Scotland and a mother from France. They were just places on a map to Richie, but it didn't matter. They wanted him, for whatever reason, and, to someone who had spent half his life in an orphan's asylum and half on the streets, that was enough.

Richie sighed heavily, and scanned the street again. Nothing to see except the local bullies hanging out on the opposite side of the street. He'd learned who those were early on when they tried their scare tactics on him on his first day of school - another concession for having a family. He hated school almost as much as washin' every week, and bullies even more than that, but, after bloodying the nose of the one called Dawson, they'd given him a wide berth.

Richie sighed again. He guessed he could go over to the rodeo with the rest of the hicks, and his new parents. They were covering the "events" for their paper, The Cascade Sentinel. It was something to do, anyway.

Just as he pushed away from the wall to make his way to the rodeo, he saw two younger boys come barreling around the opposite corner, running right into the group of rowdies. Richie waited. His blood turned cold as he watched the smaller boys pushed around and taunted.

Without any thought to what his parents would think, Richie stormed across the street, ready for a fight.

~~~

Blair and Justin careened around the corner, too busy hurrying back to the rodeo grounds with their bags of sweets to notice a group of older boys standing in their way. They plowed into the bunch. . .

"Hey, lookie here. It's Old Man Ellison's brat and a China boy."

"Leave us alone, Davie Lash," Blair said, standing his ground.

"What do we have here?" Kenny Summers sneered, grabbing the sack from Justin's hand.

"Give that back!" Justin shouted as the older boy held the prized, striped bag out of his reach.

"What are you going to do about it, slant-eyes?!" the third bully taunted.

Blair's anger surged at the slur. "Don't you call him names, Dawson Quinn!" He turned to Kenny. "You better give it back."

Dawson grabbed the bag from his friend, waving it in front of Blair. "Ooo, what're you going to do, baby Blair? Go crying to your ol' man?" he teased nastily, and pushed the small child into the post behind him, Blair's head hitting the wood with a loud 'thunk'.

Without a second thought, Justin shoved the bully as hard as he could. "Leave him alone." Dawson found his balance and pushed Justin to the ground, dropping the candy bag in the process. Gum drops, jellybeans and lollipops scattered everywhere on the dirty boardwalk.

"Now look what you did, China Boy," Kenny taunted, moving his stringy blond hair from his eyes. "You'll have to buy us some more."

"Will not! I'm going to tell on you!" Blair seethed, while Davie kept him restrained against the post.

"Oh, I don't think so, runt. Know what I do to tattletales?" Davie asked in a sneer as he towered over the younger boy. "I dunk them."

Blair struggled against young Lash, but the older boy succeeded in dragging him to the horse trough below them on the street. Justin was held back by Dawson while Kenny brayed at the sight.

"Leave them alone."

Davie stopped his attack as the curly, reddish-blonde-haired boy he'd fought with the week before stalked over.

"Stay out of this, MacLeod. They're just a couple of runt, ranch-rats. What's it to you?"

"Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"

"Like you?"

Richie puffed up to stand at his full height, such as it was. "Try me."

With the older boys distracted, Justin saw his chance and raked the side of his right boot heel down Dawson's shin. The boy cried out and released him, grabbing the wounded area. As he hopped about on one leg, Justin gave him a shove that sent him sprawling back into Kenny standing behind him.

Meanwhile, Davie had released Blair to round on Richie. He wasted no time in throwing the first punch, catching young MacLeod in the face and bloodying his nose. Richie threw a counter-punch, his fist connecting with Davie's left eye. Not one to stand by and watch his would-be rescuer take a trouncing, Blair stepped in to jump Davie just as the larger boy drew back his arm to swing again. Davie's elbow connected with Blair's nose with blinding speed and the youngster howled at the ensuing pain. Justin turned away from Dawson at the sound of his friend's cry and raced into the fray.

The free-for-all was on.

"What's going on out here?" Joel Taggart bellowed as he raced out of his shop and around the corner to see what all the ruckus was about. Grabbing the shirt of the boy closest to him, he pulled. "Stop it! Do you hear me? Enough!" he cried as he pulled one boy after another from the pile.

Finally, he had the entire group lined up on the sidewalk.

All the boys were filthy, their clothes torn. Justin had the beginnings of a beautiful shiner, Blair had a bloody nose. Richie sported both. The other boys looked even worse.

"Come on." He motioned impatiently for them to move down the street. "Let's have Doc McKay take a look at you all while I get your folks."

~~~

Taking his attention away from the contest of roping skill in the corral, Paddy craned his neck around to look up the street. Still no sign of the boys returning from their "mission".

"Hey!" came a shout from the small boy on his shoulders. "Mr. Choate, I can't see when you turn like that."

"Sorry, Darryl, I was looking to see if your errand boys had returned."

Six-year old Darryl Banks frowned from his perch on the rancher's shoulders. His father had left him in the care of Mr. Ellison and Mr. Choate since he had to make sure no trouble happened during the rodeo. "Where are they?" the little boy asked peevishly. "How long does it take to pick out some candy?"

"Well, considering I gave them a nickel, it could take them a while."

That grabbed the attention of Jim Ellison, who had been engrossed watching the bulldogging in the arena.

"You gave those boys a nickel?" he incredulously asked his young friend.

"Jim, they're splitting it three ways." How tight could this man pinch a penny?! Paddy thought to himself.

"I know," Jim said, his face growing a bit pink. He turned back to the action in the corral, Patrick barely able to hear him mutter, "that's why I gave them a nickel, too."

Choate couldn't help but laugh and clap Jim on the back. He laughed louder, holding tight to Darryl's legs so the boy wouldn't fall, when the older man admitted even softer, face redder, jaw clenched tighter, "Each."

Jim tried to glare, but ended up laughing along. He just hoped Choate was still in this good humor when the boys ended up with bellyaches later from eating all the candy that money would buy.

"Ellison! Choate!"

Both men sobered at the urgency in Taggart's voice as he hurried towards them. All Jim's senses went on alert as the portly man made his way through the crowd.

"Joel, what's happened? Is it the boys?" Jim asked, dreading the answer.

"They're fine. Just a little beat up." The merchant couldn't help smiling. "You should see the other three. I think that Quinn boy's going to lose a tooth."

Paddy removed Darryl from his shoulders, setting the boy down in front of him. "Where are they?"

"I took them all over to Doc McKay's. They're going to be just fine, Choate. Although, Justin's going to have quite a shiner to show for it."

The older men barely had a chance to move out of the way as one livid Patrick Choate barreled past them.

"Joel, keep an eye on Darryl. . .Better yet, find Simon and tell him what's happened," Jim directed, before following on Choate's heels.

As Jim hurried to catch up, he heard Taggart call after him, "I have to tell the MacLeods first!"

Patrick beat him to the doctor's office by a couple minutes. The sounds of loud Spanish reached his ears long before he arrived at the building. Entering the office, he was relieved to see it wasn't their boys on the receiving end of the tongue lashing, but three of the most troublesome young rascals in town.

"Pequeños maleantes!! ¿Dónde están sus padres? Es una cobardía molestar a niños más pequeños que ustedes. Bien les daría una buena nalgada, y si sus padres no se se las dán, créanme que you se las daré." ¹

Leaving the young rancher to deal with the rowdies, Ellison turned his attention to their two boys who sat with very wide eyes - Justine with a piece of raw meat over his left - and gaping mouths as they stared at the ranting Choate. Jim crossed the small office and plucked the bloodied cloth from Blair's lax hand to hold it to the boy's bloody nose. It was then he noticed another youngster sitting next to Justin, also with a piece of beef over his left eye and a wad of cotton under his nose. All the boys were still focused on the sight of the three bullies shrinking under Choate's wrath.

"Malditos! Si cualquiera de mi familia resulta lastimado, no quedará nada, pero nada de ustedes por salvar! Mal paridos! Víboras!" ²

Jim had heard enough Spanish to get a very good grasp of the oaths being rained down on the teens, and being soaked up by their children. "Patrick," he called out sternly, "the boys."

Paddy whirled around, anger pouring off him in waves, until he beheld the look on Justin's and Blair's faces. Then he deflated like a balloon. "Muchachos! Estoy tan apesadumbrado! Eres dos todo derecho?" ³

Taking in the extent of the children's injuries, the angry young rancher once again turned to the assailants.

His verbal assault was aborted when an attractive couple, perhaps in their early thirties, came rushing through the door. The woman - blond, blue eyed, strikingly lovely - made a beeline for the rosy-cheeked youngster beside Justin.

She rambled on in a foreign language for several moments, switching abruptly to English in mid-sentence.

"...and look at your beautiful face. What happened, Petite? Are you in pain? Who did this to you?" she demanded, rattling off each item so quickly that the boy couldn't get a word in. He sat staring up at her with wide blue eyes, mirroring the looks on every male in the room, save one.

That one she turned to now, hands fluttering away from the child's face to rest on her narrow hips. "Duncan! Do not just stand there. He is hurt!"

The tall, dark-haired man flushed slightly at the rebuke and stepped forward. Going down on one knee in front of Richie, he made a complete examination of his injuries. "It looks like you've taken on a little more than you could handle." He pressed around the boy's blackened eye and swollen lip, then, seemingly satisfied that no permanent damage had been done, moved on to check the slim chest, legs, and arms. "You're gonna have some bruises for a bit, but nothing's broken. Are you in much pain, toughguy?"

"Nah, I'm okay," Richie assured him, both embarrassed and confused by the obvious interest in his well-being.

"Good." The redhead received a thorough hair ruffling before Duncan rose to his feet. "Now, suppose you tell me what happened," he pressed, switching from anxious parent to displeased father in a heartbeat, his gaze traveling over the seated boys.

"They started it!" was the impassioned reply.

"They?"

"Yeah, them," Blair broke in, pointing accusingly at the three older boys with the bloodied rag that had moments ago been pressed to his nose. "They were being mean to Justin and me."

"That's a lie!" Davie threw back, glaring at the threesome.

"Isn't either," Blair retorted. "You're a bully, Davie Lash!"

"Yeah!!" Justin and Richie echoed forcefully.

"That's enough, Blair," Jim firmly ordered.

"Chiquito, silencio," Paddy commanded on Jim's heels.

Used to standing up for himself, Richie spared only a glance for the tall men before continuing his tirade. "They knocked his candy on the ground," he said, pointing at Justin, "and pushed the little guy down," he ranted, nodding to Blair. "Five more minutes, though, and we would've clobbered 'em."

Justin and Blair both puffed up at this unexpected, and somewhat exaggerated, assessment of the situation.

"Richie," Duncan said sharply, drawing everyone's attention.

"What?" the boy asked innocently, drawing a raised eyebrow from the Scot. He frowned then, and fell silent.

Jim took advantage of the blissful quiet, knowing his son and "nephew" well enough to bet it wouldn't last long, to make acquaintances with who he assumed were the MacLeods. He took off his hat and extended his hand to Duncan. "Jim Ellison. I own the Prospect Creek Ranch about four hour ride north of town." The two men shook hands and Jim motioned to the younger rancher. "This is Patrick Choate, my neighbor. And these are our boys, Blair and Justin."

Snatching off his hat, Paddy sheepishly extended his hand, as well. "Lo siento. . . um, I'm sorry. Pleased to meet you both."

"Duncan MacLeod," the man replied, shaking first Jim's hand, then Paddy's. "This is my wife Tessa, and our son Richie." He drew the blonde up beside him, linking an arm through one of hers. He lay his other hand on one of the boy's shoulders, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Tessa turned a blinding smile on the two ranchers, unaware of its effect, oblivious to the fact that both men swallowed hard before finding their voices.

The older rancher reached out to take the lady's offered hand. Gently he kissed its back before raising his warm, crystal-blue eyes to be greeted by her charmed smile. "Welcome to Cascade, Mrs. MacLeod."

Choate took her hand warmly, bowing over it. "Si, senora. You grace our city with your presence."

The moment was broken when Sheriff Simon Banks strode into the very crowded office. He scowled when his eyes lit on the three teens standing awkwardly to the side. "I might have known you three would be at the middle of this."

"We didn't do anything, Sheriff," Dawson Quinn whined.

"Liar!" Blair shouted.

The sheriff held up his hands ordering, "Quiet!" Once the room settled, he turned to Ellison. "What happened?"

"From what the boys say, these three," he indicated the teens, "tried to steal their candy and when Justin and Blair resisted they began roughing our boys up." Jim nodded his head towards Richie. "This one came to Justin and Blair's aid, and you see the results."

Simon surveyed the lot, shaking his head. "Uh-huh. Quite a shiner you're going to have there, Justin," he said with a smile. The smile left his face as he turned to face the defiant teenagers. "You three come with me. I'm tired of your antics around town. You can sit in my jail until your folks collect you." Simon tipped his hat on the way out the door. "Ma'am. Gentlemen."

With the culprits taken away, the three younger boys fidgeted on the bench they were lined up on, wondering what their fate would be.

Jim eyed his son critically, seeming to mentally catalog the boy's injuries. A lopsided grin appeared on his face a few moments later and he ruffled Blair's unruly mass of curls. "Let's get back to the hotel, Little Bit, and get you cleaned up."

"You, too, chiquito. Vayamos⁴ ."

Justin slid from the bench.

Tessa had likewise pulled Richie to his feet and was tsking over the condition of his clothing. "Another suit of clothes ruined. How do you manage to not only find so much dirt but roll around in it?" She brushed her fingers through his reddish blond curls, dislodging bits of dirt and unidentified debris. "There's no help for it, you will have to take a bath."

This announcement was met with an outraged, "But I just took a bath on Saturday!"

"And you will take another tonight," she said firmly, hands settled resolutely on her hips in a stance the boy was becoming all too familiar with.

"A body's likely to catch pumonia sitting in all that water," Richie muttered unhappily, though he knew he'd lost the fight. She was usually a soft touch, but when she used that tone, with her hands on her hips like that, he knew he didn't have a chance.

"Pneumonia, Richie," Duncan corrected, nearly choking in an effort not to laugh. He noticed that Ellison and Choate were having a similar reaction. "And I think you'll live."

Noticing the deep frown on Blair's face, Jim asked, "What's wrong, Blair?"

"Our candy got ruined."

Justin stopped by his father's side. "And it took us forever to get it right, too," he said sadly. "We got some of everybody's favorites."

"Hmm, that doesn't seem right, does it?" Jim reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a few coins. He gave Blair a two-bit piece. "You two share that. And make sure Darryl gets a fair share, too."

The older rancher turned towards the MacLeod boy, who was eyeing the Mrs. with a forlorn expression, obviously still focused on the threat of a bath. He bit back a smile. Did all boys live in dread of being clean? "Thank you, son, for coming to our boys' aide."

"Sí, muchas gracias," Paddy chimed in, absently stroking the back of Justin's head.

"I think that kind of valor shouldn't go unrewarded." Jim looked to the MacLeods for approval, then offered the remaining coin in his hand - another two-bit piece - to Richie.

"That's for me?" the boy asked, blue eyes wide.

"Yes."

Richie's gaze traveled from the rancher's solemn face to the coin, and back again. "All of it?"

"All of it," Jim assured him.

"Honest? For real?" the boy persisted, hand tentatively outstretched.

Jim smiled, placing the coin firmly in the small, grimy palm, curling the fingers around it.

"Wow," Richie intoned, holding tightly to his prize. "Um. . .I could hit them again if you want."

Jim heard Paddy guffaw behind him, the sound quickly muffled behind one of the younger rancher's hands. "I don't think that'll be necessary, son," he managed to say with a straight face, his eyes meeting MacLeod's over the boy's head.

"Richie," the newspaper owner said, waiting for the boy's attention to shift to him. "Mr. Ellison isn't rewarding you for fighting, he's rewarding you for helping the boys. Helping others is the honorable thing to do, but Tessa and I don't want you fighting anymore, understand?"

"Yeah," he sighed, frowning. He'd gotten this lecture before, too.

"That's goes for you, too, Little Bit," Jim said, wearing a frown of his own.

"And you, hijito," Paddy added forcefully.

Two small heads nodded solemnly in agreement.

"Hey, Richie?" Blair began as everyone began to file out of the doctor's office. "You want to meet us at Taggart's store later? He has the best candy counter."

"Yeah? Sure, that'd be great!" Richie exclaimed, then sobered, turning hopeful eyes to his new 'parents'. "Can I?"

The couple wore matching smiles at the barely restrained eagerness on his face. Whatever Richie did, he did with great enthusiasm - something they were desperately trying to convince him to temper with caution and good judgment.

"You may go," Tessa informed him, leaning into Duncan's side, his arm about her waist, "if you promise not to eat more than one piece of candy before supper."

"One?" he asked, cocking his head to the side and gazing up at them with big eyes.

"Well...two," Tessa conceded, giving her husband an elbow in the ribs when in snorted in amusement. "*Just* two," she added with conviction.

"Thanks." Richie was all smiles and blue eyes beneath a thin layer of dirt.

**

Standing in front of Mr. Taggart's candy counter, the three boys gazed longingly at the colorful array of jars containing gum drops, peppermint sticks, horehound, lollipops, caramel, popcorn balls, red and black licorice whips, lemon drops, and the ever-present fudge.

Blair turned to Justin and asked, "What'da you want?"

"I don't know," Justin said with a shrug. He turned to Richie. "What'da you want?"

"I don't know, everything looks so good and I never had a whole two-bits to spend on anything before."

"Miss Rhonda makes the fudge Mr. Taggart sells. It's real good," Blair offered. "But it's kinda 'pensive, too. You can get ten gum drops for the price of one piece of fudge."

"Yes, but those are big pieces he cuts," Justin added.

"Still," Blair continued, "it doesn't go as far. Remember, we have to get some for Darryl, too."

"Let's just get what we had before."

"Okay. What are we going to do with the rest of the money?" Blair asked and followed his friend's gaze to the selection of penny whistles and other small toys the merchant had for sale. A wide grin spread across Blair's face. "Oh."

Justin and Blair made their candy selections quickly and browsed the toys while Richie pondered his sweets purchase.

When Richie sauntered over he had a filled-to-bursting bag in one hand, the remaining change in the other and was chomping away on a piece of rock candy.

"What'd you get?" Justin asked, peering inside the bag that Richie held open for him.

"Lot's of stuff, and I still got loads of money left over," he declared, showing off the handful of pennies.

"What ya gonna do with the rest?" Blair piped in, popping a gumdrop into his mouth.

"I dunno," Richie admitted, worrying his lip. He spied a counter housing ladies bonnets and frippery, and wandered over. Wiping a hand on his pants leg to remove any surface dirt, he fingered a sky-blue ribbon with something akin to reverence.

"It's your color. You planning on getting a bonnet to match?" Mr. Taggart asked dryly from the other side of the counter.

The redhead giggled at the notion. "Nah, it's not for me, it's for my m. . ." he stumbled over the word. He knew Tessa was his ma now, but the word didn't come easy. "It's for someone else. It's the same color as her eyes."

"I see," Taggart said with exaggerated solemnity, a grin playing about the corners of his mouth.

"How much is it?"

"Let me check," the storeowner said, looking at something on his side. "Six cents should do it."

"Six cents?!" Richie exclaimed, eyes shifting from the bit of fabric to his remaining treasure. "I got nine." He seemed to give the matter a great deal of thought, then delved into the pennies, extracting exactly six and handing them over. "I'll take it. Could you wrap that up for me. . .please." He remembered to add that last a little belatedly.

"Be happy to."

The three friends left Taggart's store, laughing and joking as they made their way to the rodeo. Crowding around the corral rails, their parents behind them, they watched and cheered along with the rest of the onlookers.

Richie sucked on a jawbreaker, feeling all warm inside, like he belonged. He had a new friend on either side of him and his still-new parents standing behind him with Mr. Choate and Mr. Ellison, their friendly banter a reassuring counterpoint to the clamor around him. The redhead couldn't remember ever feeling this safe before, not in all his twelve years. He gave a mental shrug, accepting the feeling at face value, and cheered along with the others as the cowboys tried to outdo each other. Maybe this town wouldn't be so bad after all.