"Darryl, Blair, wash up. Lunch is ready!"

Jim closed the gate behind him and returned Simon's wave as the two somewhat cleaner, certainly wetter, boys presented their hands for inspection before being allowed in to eat. Jim joined his fellow single father in a shaking head grin. Boys will be boys.

After eating a hearty meal prepared by Miss Rhonda, Jim and Simon sat out on the back porch watching Blair and Darryl continue their boisterous play.

"I swear, I don't know where they get the energy from. I can hardly move after that meal Miss Rhonda fixed," Simon groaned while rubbing his belly.

Jim patted his stomach in sympathy, although, after months of preparing his own meals, he enjoyed having a woman's cooking for a change, especially Miss Rhonda's. "I know what you mean, Simon."

They sat for awhile, letting an amicable quiet fall over them while watching the boys and dog play, before Simon spoke.

"The Kincaid gang hit the Brown ranch yesterday. Took off with twenty head of cattle, and wounded two of Henry's ranch hands." Simon looked at Jim out of the corner of his eye. "We're getting another posse together. I could use your help."

"Sorry, Simon. I can't this time. It's a critical time at the ranch," Jim replied, not able to look at his friend. He couldn't tell Simon he didn't want to go because of fear of having a spell and getting someone, possibly himself, killed.

"I understand."

"Thank you, Simon." Jim slapped his knees and rose from the porch. Staying any longer would only make things awkward. Besides, he did need to get back to the ranch. "We best be on our way. I want to be home before sundown. Thanks again for lunch. That Rhonda's a treasure."

The Banks and Ellisons made their farewells. Jim settled Blair and Nemo in front of him in the saddle, Blair not being able to ride by himself because of his injured hand, and they headed home.

"Monopoly," Jim said after pulling back the reins to slow Sentry to a walk. They'd be home soon and he wanted to cool the animal down.

"Monopoly. M-o-n-o-p-o-l-y. Monopoly."

"Very good. Here's a tough one. Mercantile."

"Papa!" Blair complained, looking disapprovingly at his father over his shoulder. Every time they'd slowed their riding to a walk, out would come another impromptu schooling lesson.

"Just try. You see the word every time we go to town."

"All right. Mercantile. M-e-r-c-i-n-t-i-l-e. Mercantile?"

"Close. Try again. Mercantile."

"M-e-r-c-a-n-t-i-l-e. Mercantile."

"That's right, Little Bit," Jim praised while patting the boy's belly. "Miss Erwin'll be impressed next time we see her. That's enough for now though."

They rode in silence for a few minutes, Blair absently stroking Nemo's soft fur.

"Papa, when will I be old enough to have a gun?"

Jim's blood ran cold at the question. Where had this come from?

"My father gave me my first rifle when I was thirteen. I suppose, if you're responsible enough, that you can have one then."

They rode in silence for a few minutes.

"When can I have a revolver like yours?"

"Why do you want to know?" Jim asked, keeping his voice as neutral as possible. The boy was going somewhere with this train of thought, and Jim wanted to see the mighty loco notion that drove it.

Blair just shrugged his shoulders and continued petting his dog.

"Just wondering."

"Hmm, I see. I didn't use a handgun until I joined the army. . .and then I only used it when I had to in battle. Now I have one for protection against outlaws and rattlesnakes. Of course, that's redundant, but--"

"You ever kill a man, Papa?"

"Yes, I have. . .and I hope you never have to."

"Why didn't you want to help Sheriff Banks?"

"That's complicated, Little Bit."

Blair twisted around to give his father a look.

"Okay, but I can take care of myself. I'm not afraid of the Kincaid gang."

So that's what this is about, Jim thought.

"Just the same, I'd rather stick close. The Kincaids are ruthless. You stay in my sight until they're caught. Hear me?"

Blair checked his retort at the stern tone of his father's voice. No argument, however reasonable would be listened to right now.

"Yes, sir."

~~~

Jim shut the cabin door quietly to keep from waking his sleeping son. He settled himself on the porch, his uneasy thoughts breaking free into his conscious mind. What if these spells continue and put Blair at risk? Dear God, he couldn't live with himself if anything happened to that cherished sleeper in the cabin because he couldn't control his own body. What if someone else saw him have a spell? His hands began to shake, his heart beat irregularly and he fought to breathe in slow even breaths at the thought of Blair being taken from him for his own protection. He continued to fight for even breathing as he put his head in his hands. Please, he begged, someone help me. I can't lose my little boy.

His head jerked up as a strong gust of chilling wind blew over him. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw someone enter the barn. Slowly rising from the step, he drew his gun, remembering Simon's talk of the Kincaid gang in the area, and cautiously approached the barn.
The door was open enough for him to slip inside.

"You have no need of weapons, watchman."

Jim spun around to the direction the matter-of-fact voice had come from, the hairs raising on the back of his neck. He wasn't sure what dumbfounded him more, the elderly Shoshoni shaman who stood before him or the fact that he could see the man clear as day in the darkness of the barn.

"Who are you?" Jim asked warily, still holding his gun on the intruder.

"I am the 'someone' who can help you, watchman."

"Help me? With what, Grandfather?" Judging the old man as no threat, Jim lowered his gun. "I don't need to hire any hands right now, but you're welcome to come inside to warm yourself and eat."

"Moments ago you asked for help. I am here to help you see that which is right in front of you, watchman." The old man shook his head, an indulgent smile on his face. "For one with such excellent senses, you do not see very well."

For some reason the smile on the old man's face irritated the rancher. Jim looked away from the laughing face to collect his thoughts. When he looked back the old man had vanished.

"Come to the village and I will help you to see." The disembodied whisper of the old shaman seemed to be all around him.

Jim woke with a sharp start from his seat on the porch. His mind whirled with memories of the shaman. I must be going crazy. Now I'm dreaming I'm awake, he chided himself before retiring for the night. A good nights rest would help clear his head.

Jim woke early the next morning, the little body next to him unnaturally hot. He sat up so he could examine a fevered Blair more easily. Carefully, he pulled the injured hand away from the boy's stomach where he clutched it. He didn't have to unwrap it all the way before he picked up the smell of infection, but he did so to see the extent of the damage. That quack McKay wouldn't be setting a hand on him or Blair in the future. The next doctor was a full day away by train in Green River. Jim fretted over what to do until Blair woke.

Two groggy, pain-filled deep blue eyes locked with his own. "Papa? I don't feel very good." Blair looked at his hand, still in his father's firm grasp. "It hurts again, Papa. Make it stop."

"I'm sorry, Little Bit, I'll have to wash it out again."

After washing and rebandaging Blair's hand, amidst the boy's whimpering and crying, Jim sat with the sniffling child in the rocker by a low fire, trying to soothe both their frazzled nerves. The rewashing had slowed it, but he couldn't get all the infection.

The words of the shaman came back to him. Not that he believed anything he saw last night, but it did remind him that the neighboring Shoshoni village had a healer. He'd known Seeks the Waters for almost six years. He held the healer in high regards as a man and desperately hoped he could do the same for his medical skills.

"Shh, Little Bit. Everything's going to be all right. We're going to see a different doctor."

Jim quickly got them both dressed and the horses saddled. He packed Ceylon down with supplies and gifts as payment to the Shoshoni healer. After almost five hours of riding, they reached the village and Jim presented himself, a fever racked Blair held tightly in his arms, to the
lodge of Seeks the Waters, the healer.

"Ellison. We have not seen you since early last summer, my friend."

Seeks the Waters was short, but had a commanding presence. No older than Jim, his eyes and posture always seemed older, wiser to the rancher. The healer's eyes were full of concern as he put a hand to Blair's forehead as it rested against Jim's shoulder.

"Bring him inside," the healer said, preceding the worried father into the teepee.

Jim held his feverish child in his lap as Seeks the Waters examined the boy's hand. The healer made scoffing noises before pulling some plant matter from a pouch.

"Wait here," he said before leaving the dim teepee.

Jim sat on the blankets anxiously, rocking Blair slowly to soothe himself as much as the boy. Not soon enough for Jim, Seeks the Waters returned to apply a poultice to the injured hand before rebandaging it. The healer prepared another concoction and added it to water before encouraging a groggy Blair to drink it. From the face the boy made, it tasted as bad as it smelled. Jim added his insistence that Blair drink it all. He held his son for almost an hour until Blair fell asleep in
his arms before laying the boy down on the blankets. Jim covered his little boy with another blanket before kissing the cooling, but still sweaty forehead.

Jim eased his tired body down next to Seeks the Waters by a small cooking fire.

"The fever seems to have broken. Thank you, Seeks the Waters. He's very precious to me."

A wily smile passed across the healer's face. "That is obvious, my friend, but I can see that something else is troubling you."

Jim chuckled nervously and took his hat off to run a hand over his head. He held the Stetson in his hand, worrying the brim, keeping his eyes in front of him. Seeks the Waters had always been able to see through Jim's defenses since they met. Still, after his experience in town, Jim was hesitant to tell anyone else about his problem.

"I'm seeing things. Hearing. . .things I shouldn't be able to. Every now and then, something will catch my attention and the next thing I know Blair is pulling on my shirt sleeve or squeezing my hand telling me to 'come back.' I think I may be going insane."

Jim didn't realize how tense his muscles were until a gentle hand rested on his shoulder, squeezing it slightly. The tension seemed to melt away.

"Do not despair, my friend. I can take you to one who can help." The healer pointed to the nearby mesa. "You will find the answer you seek there. It may take a day or two. We can leave when you are ready."

Leave? He couldn't leave. Rising, Jim shook his head. "Blair--"

"Your son will be well cared for while you journey, Ellison." The healer waited until the rancher looked him in the eyes. "We will leave in the morning."

"In the morning," Jim heard himself reply as Seeks the Waters moved away.

What have I just agreed to!? I must be crazy, he thought. Leave Blair here to go gallivanting off to the wilderness for what? Yes, I know he'll be safe, but last time I left him didn't work out very well. I should stay. We both should go home. . .but I need answers.

More confused than ever, Jim returned to the teepee to watch over his sleeping son.

Blair slept through until morning, Jim spent a restless night on a bedroll next to him. A demanding quiet voice and constant pulling at his shoulders roused the exhausted rancher from his latest try at sleep.

"Papa. Papa. Wake up. Where are we? Papa."

The urgency in the whispered pleading cleared the last of the haze from the weary rancher. He turned over to see a very much improved Blair kneeling over him with a concerned look on his face.

Jim patted the little boy's hand that had a tight grip on his shoulder. "It's all right, Little Bit. We're at the camp of my Shoshoni friend, Seeks the Waters. He helped you get better."

The boy's face brightened. "Indians? I get to meet Indians?"

"Yes." Jim couldn't help but smile at the boy's enthusiasm. The crisis of his injury was completely forgotten in the face of this new adventure. The boy bounced with excitement on the blankets. Jim shook a finger at him. "They're good friends so you be on your best behavior. Understand?"

"Yes, Papa," Blair nodded solemnly, still squirming on his bed. He got shakily to his feet.

"Whoa, there, son. What do you think you're doing?" Jim said, offering a steadying hand.

"I gotta go." Blair shifted on his feet, emphasizing his urgency. "Now."

After seeing to their basic needs, Jim helped Blair to dress and they joined Seeks the Waters by the morning campfire. Blair exuberance came back full force when more of the tribe joined them. Jim had to direct him back to eating his breakfast on several occasions because the boy was so busy taking in all the new sights around him. After eating, Jim took Blair for a walk along the creek.

"Blair, I need to go with Seeks the Waters for a day or two to that mesa over there. I want you to stay here with his wife, Running Doe, until I get back."

Jim braced himself for his son's reaction. The expected tantrum didn't come. Instead, a huge grin washed over Blair's face.

"You mean I get to be an Indian until you get back?"

Jim tousled his son's hair. "Yep, Little Bit. Just behave and do what Running Doe tells you to."

Blair bounced up and down with delight. Jim could see the wheels turning behind that expressive face. He put his hands on Blair's shoulders, making the boy focus on him.

"Behave."

"I will, Papa," Blair said nonchalantly. As they walked back to Seeks the Waters' lodge, Blair could contain his excitement no longer. He asked, "Papa, can I wear a feather in my hair, like that boy is, and can I have moccasins, too, and. . ."

Jim slung the chattering boy over his shoulder, while he continued his ceaseless string of questions. Jim hoped the village would be able to survive his inquisitive child long enough for him to get the answers he so desperately needed.

end pt. 2 ***

on to part 3. . .