Well, FINALLY, this story is finished! My apologies to my readers for taking so long. Thank you for your patience.
A big thanks to the Divine Ms. M for beta-ing and nagging.
As always it's a joy to write with you, querida. Thank you for being patient, as well.
Comments welcome.
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Where the Heart Is
By Klair and BCW
Wyoming Territory, Prospect Creek Ranch, 1875
Jim Ellison rode wearily into the barnyard, grateful to be home. Pulling himself out of Sentry's saddle, he felt his age at the sound of his joints cracking. He tended to his horse's needs before dragging himself to his cabin, patting the trail dust from his coat and hat on the way.
Too tired to loosen the knot on his sensitive hearing to check where his son was, he shouted, "Blair?!" Stepping up to the porch, his mind wandered to calming thoughts of a cool drink, food for his belly, and themerry chatter of a certain little boy. Lifting the door latch, Jim entered his home and froze in the entryway. The sight he beheld overrode thoughts of refreshment.
Almost every volume of Blair's precious encyclopedia set lay open and scattered across the bed and table, competing for space with the papers also littering those surfaces.
Jim took a step inside and stopped short when he felt something beneath his boot heel. Looking down he saw his son's tin soldiers scattered on the floor, one - a casualty - under his right boot heel. He snatched up the bent toy, the third one this month, and took in the chaos with his ire rising. Pine cones, sticks, rocks, small balls of various string and twines lay on the floor and on the seats of chairs.
"BLAIR!!" he bellowed again as he began stuffing items randomly into his son's "toy boxes" before pushing them back under the bed where they belonged. He heard little feet tramping up the porch and stop.
Before the irritated rancher could speak a word, Blair cried out, "Papa! You're ruining my things!"
"'Ruining', huh?" Jim began to scold as he collected paper into a neat stack. "I'm not the one who left their toys lying around ñ again. I've told you over and over to put away things when you finish with them."
"But I'm not finished with them! I need those things." Blair gave an impatient stamp of his foot.
"And I need to be able to move around my own home without having to tip-toe through this maze of junk you have strewn everywhere," Jim grumbled as he continued to fill boxes and shove them back under the bed.
Blair hovered over him like a worried hen. "Be careful with that!" he gasped as Jim dropped a bundle of twigs wrapped with twine into the last box.
"Then you get down here and put them away before I start throwing them away," Jim said, motioning to the pinecones, sticks and such.
With a sullen glare directed at his father, Blair began rounding up his things, gently placing them in their respective boxes.
"They're not junk," the boy muttered to himself. "They're important stuff to do...stuff with."
"Uh-huh." Jim tossed the remaining odds and ends into a wood-slatted bin and slid it under the bed. Jim sat on the mattress and exhaled forcefully, rubbing a hand over his head, before drawing his pouting son over to him.
"What we need is to go into town to pick up those building supplies I ordered in Cheyenne." On the last word, Jim began to tickle Blair's ribs, drawing bubbly giggles from the boy. As the giggles changed into screams of laughter, he continued on calmly. "And I need to see if I can hire some help building that room of yours."
Jim ceased his tickle assault, letting Blair catch his breath. The boy sprawled on the bed next to him, breathing hard and giggling occasionally, though the attack had stopped.
"Uncle Paddy would help," Blair said between pants.
Jim smiled over to him. "No doubt, but I don't want to take advantage of him and his men. They have their own work to do."
"But it'd hurt his feelin's if you didn't at least ask, Papa. You know how he is."
"Yeah, I know." The rancher chuckled over the memory of last Sunday's supper at the Chelsea when the young Spaniard proudly brought out the architectural plans he'd done for the addition. Running a hand through his short, brown hair, Jim grinned recalling Patrick's very thorough and rehearsed presentation. He'd thanked him for his thoughtfulness then declined the offer to build the extravagant structure. He just needed a room for the boy. His quickly-growing-boy. He could handle one room with a hired man to help. He'd ordered a building manual with the supplies. He'd be fine.
"I'm going to deliver that string of horses to The Chelsea tomorrow. Want to come with me?"
"Yeah!" Blair yelled as he quickly rose from the bed to launch his own tickle assault. "Gottcha!"
~~~
After taking care of the business that brought him to the Choate's ranch, Jim accepted Patrick's invitation to stay for lunch. Two sets of young, pleading eyes one set blue, the other green were too much to fight. Chu Wa worked his usual magic over what appeared to the casual observer to be simple fried chicken. Jim helped himself to three helpings. Patrick had four. Now, ready to leave, Jim listened to the younger rancher's latest efforts to improve living conditions at the Rancho Ellison as he saddled his horse.
"One room, Choate. I only need one," Jim said calmly, but firmly, to his friend for the tenth time since arriving.
Leading Sentry and Ceylon, he turned to walk from the Chelsea's barn.
The young man followed closely on his friend's heels. "Come on, Ellison! Why are you being so stubborn about this? You've got the land. You've got the help! It's just one more room! You'd swear I was trying to make you build a castle."
Jim snorted derisively. "What do I need with more? It's just more to take care of. Besides, I already bought the lumber and materials in Cheyenne. Blair needs a room to himself...and I need to be able to walk into my home without worrying about stepping on his 'treasures'."
"But what about you? Don't you deserve a room to yourself?"
"For what? I got all the space I need - after I get all Blair's effects moved to his room. I've got the whole rest of the cabin to myself after that," Jim said with a smile.
A blush crawled up the young rancher's neck and colored his face as his glance slid guiltily away from his friend's.
Jim chuckled and tapped Patrick in the chest with the back of his hand. "What's on your mind, compadre?" he asked, trying to hide a smile.
Choate started at his friend's touch. "Nada, amigo," he said, a little too quickly.
Jim laughed out loud at that and grabbed the younger man with his free arm in an affectionate headlock.
"Hey! Whatcha doin'?"
Jim turned to the sound of his son's voice, releasing Choate in the process.
"Your Uncle Paddy and I were just discussing architecture, Little Bit. Where's Justin?" he asked, tying the horses to the hitching post in front of Choate's grand ranch house.
"Out behind the bunk house with the hands loading lumber."
"Loading..." Jim's voice trailed off as he slowly turned to look incredulously at Choate. "Tell me you're adding on to the Chelsea."
Paddy began backing away, both hands held up in front of him in a placating gesture. "Ellison, before you go flying off the handle, let me explain. . ."
Ellison glared at the younger man before making his way to the bunkhouse. He stood with his hands on his hips, a scowl on his face, watching Choate's hands, and son, loading a wagon full of prime building material. "What the Sam Hill is going on here?"
"Hey, Uncle Jim! Lookee. I'm helping!" Justin piped up with a winning smile at his uncle as he moved one of the smaller wooden planks onto the growing pile.
Wily looked up and smiled. "Oh, hey, Ellison! I hope you don't mind if we get this on out to your place."
"Yeah," Hoss said. "But, we're really looking forward to adding on to your house."
Aces smiled right along with his friends. "Yeah, between the five of us, we'll have those three new rooms finished for you in no time."
"Three? Three?!" Jim asked, the vein in his neck pulsating more and more. He turned to find Choate and Blair approaching, the boy with an all-too-pleased look on his face. The older rancher's jaw clenched as he tried to keep his rising anger under control.
Crisply pointing his finger at Choate he said, "How long have you planned this?"
"I didn't say three rooms."
"Yeah you did, Baba," Justin piped up.
Jim spun towards the small boy before turning back to Choate. Glaring at the man he said tightly, "No. I don't want this and I don't need your help either. Blair, get your things. We're leaving."
"Justin Choate, you have a big mouth," Paddy scolded as he walked by his son.
The young boy blinked with startled confusion. "Me? What'd I do, Baba?"
Pulling Blair along with him, Jim stalked into the Choate's fine ranch home, built almost thirty years ago by Choate's father.
"Go up to Justin's room and get the things you brought and do it quickly."
Seeing the hard look on his father's face, Blair knew better than to argue. He went glumly up the stairs.
As he waited, Jim paced the hardwood floors of the hall that ran past the stairs down to Chu Wa's kitchen. Pausing to draw a calming breath, Jim looked around. It was a fine house. A house much like the one he grew up in.
He exhaled heavily, hoping all the furor of his earlier anger would go with the stale air. It didn't.
"Mr. Jim."
The big rancher turned at the sound to find the tiny Chinese man standing in the kitchen doorway. "Chu Wa."
The ancient watched him with a steady gaze.
The rancher ran a hand through his short, dark hair. "Is there something I can do for you, Old One?"
The old man smiled. "The children are excited about your new additions to the house." His smile widened slightly at Jim's frown. "It is good to give the tree more room to grow," he said softly as he turned to walk back into the kitchen.
"One. One room," he muttered, the old man long gone.
"I'm ready to go, Papa, but do we have to?" Blair said, walking slowly down the stairs. The mournful expression on the boy's face was almost more than Jim could bear, but a man has his principles.
"Yes, Blair. We do."
The young rancher stood watching his guest from the doorway of his study. "Ellison," he said softly. "You don't have to go. We can talk about this. I didn't mean any harm. I just thought. . ."
Jim seated his Stetson on his head and guided Blair to the door with a hand on the boy's back. He looked over at the younger rancher, his face tight, not giving away the turmoil inside. "No, you didn't think."
Without looking back, he lifted Blair on his horse, mounted his own, and rode out. Blair craned his neck around, not caring about the crick forming, keeping his eyes on the Chelsea until the ranch was out of sight.
Patrick Choate and his son stood on the porch of the Chelsea and watched until the riders were just specks on the horizon.
Justin moved to his father. "Baba?" he said softly.
"Si, chiquito," Choate said absentmindedly as he drew the child closer to his body in a hug.
"What's wrong?"
The big rancher looked down. "Wrong?"
The child nodded. "Uncle Jim. He was mad. Did I do something?"
"No, chiquito."
Justin stood, watching the road for a moment. "Did you do something wrong?"
Choate chuckled at that. "Si, mijo. I think, maybe, he thinks I did."
~~~
"So, is Uncle Paddy gonna help us build my room?"
"No," Jim answered the question firmly, for the fifth time since returning from the Choate ranch.
"How come?"
He bristled at the response he received from his very persistent son each of those five times.
"Eat your green beans."
Blair dutifully stuck a forkful in his mouth and began chewing. "How come?"
"Blair--" Jim sighed as he ran a hand through his thin hair, exasperation taking over for the patience that had been worn thin. The boy was like an old dog with a bone!
And that young "old dog" continued quickly before his father had a chance to censor him. "They're our friends. They want to help. You always say we should help our friends. Why won't you let them help us?"
"That's enough, Blair. Eat your supper and finish your chores."
"Yes, Papa," the boy sulked as he retrieved the kindling pail and headed for the door with slumped shoulders. Blair opened the door, but hesitated in the doorway.
"But you're wrong," he blurted out in a moment of bravado before loudly slamming the door quickly behind him.
The sound of Jim's fist pounding on the table closely followed the crash of the door, his patience totally exhausted. Rising abruptly, his chair tipping over, the angry father stalked from the cabin, rattling the house with the force of his door slamming. Too focused on the tongue-lashing he was about to give his son, Jim didn't hear the crash behind him as the lantern fell from it's nail by the door.
"Blair!" Jim yelled catching up with the boy and spinning him around by the arm so they were face to face. "I've had it with this sass of yours." He shook his son's arm for emphasis. "I made a decision and it's not for you to question it. You are the child. I am the adult."
Blair couldn't look his father in the face and gazed past him, eyes widening in fear.
"But, Papa!" he gasped, trying to point towards the cabin with his free arm. His father merely shook him again and continued the scolding.
"No, Blair. No excuses. I've spoiled you. Letting you have too much to say, but from now on you will be seen butó"
"The cabin's burning!" Blair shouted over his father's voice, dropping the kindling bucket before breaking free of his father's grip, and running towards their home, darting inside the smoking building.
"What?" Jim turned, jaw slack at the sight of smoke and flame consuming his cabin. "Oh, shi--" He didn't give himself the luxury of finishing his curse, instead he dipped the kindling bucket into the trough and ran towards the house.
"Blair get the other bucket!" he shouted as the boy came running out of the house coughing, the Blue Lady tucked under one arm.
Nodding that he heard, Blair set the figurine out of harms way by the trough, and filled another bucket. He carried it back as quickly as he could to his waiting father. While waiting for more water, Jim slapped at the flames with his duster, but the fire continued to spread. When Blair arrived back with another pail of water, he poured it on, knowing it was ineffectual, but still needing to try. Little Nemo, Blair's dog, ran around the perimeter, barking at the blaze as if that would help. Seeing the flames inch closer to the bed, Jim pulled his trunk out along with a few quilts before the fire could take them, too.
He stood off to one side of the porch, the heat from the blaze almost unbearable now as he took the next bucket Blair brought and tossed it on the flames with little effect.
"My books!"
A familiar blur ran past him towards the burning structure and Jim reached out blindly shouting, "Blair! Get back!" even as his arm curled around his son's body, pulling him off the now burning porch. "It's too late!"
"My books," the boy sobbed.
"Come on. Let's get the buckets and save what we can," Jim shouted as he ran back to the trough with Blair still under his arm to refill the pails.
For the next hour or so they tried to douse the flames as best they could and keep the fire from spreading. With the sun sinking over the horizon, the fire smoldered weakly in the charred remains of their once cozy cabin.
Sorrow marred Blair's usually sunny countenance, the boy unconsciously clutching his mother's locket worn under his shirt as father and son stood, black with soot, staring at the remains of their home.
Jim smiled weakly and tousled Blair's hair. "Well, Little Bit, it looks like you're finally going to get your wish. We're sleeping in the barn tonight."
Blair responded by turning his head into his father's stomach and wrapping his arms as far around the man as they would go before squeezing with all his might. Jim hugged him back, rubbing soothing circles along the boy's back.
"There now," Jim crooned as if to a spooked foal when he detected muffled crying coming from the boy wrapped in his arms, "it's going to be all right, Little Bit. You'll see. Shhh, now."
"What are we gon..gonna do, Papa? It's all gone."
Jim picked up Blair in one arm and the quilts in the other before walking towards the barn in the twilight.
"First, we're going to clean up and get some sleep. At first light, we'll salvage what we can and then go into town to order what we'll need to rebuild. We'll be okay, Little Bit."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
~~~
Patrick Choate waved good-bye to the messenger Joel Taggert sent to say that the window glass he'd ordered arrived yesterday.
Reluctant to let his dream house for his friend go, Paddy hitched up the wagon, loading it with several horse blankets to absorb the impact of the ride back to the ranch.
"Baba?"
The big man turned.
"Can I go?"
"Sure, pequito. Run tell Chu Wa, then you can ride in the wagon with me, es bien?"
"Si, Baba!" Justin said with a smile as he turned back to the house. "Baba?" he asked, stopping for a moment, turning back to his father.
"Si, querido."
"You gonna talk to Uncle Jim again? Maybe make him see you didn't do anything bad? You just want to help?"
Paddy smiled. "I'm gonna let him cool off first, Justin. Then, we'll see, okay?"
"Es bien, Baba," the little boy said with a smile, before turning once again to the house and racing off.
~~~
Jim slowed the wagon in front of the sheriff's office. He'd slept poorly the night before and after sifting through the remains of his home, Jim carried a very long list of things they needed. Once he set the brake, Blair jumped down from his seat and rushed into
the office, wanting to be the first with the news.
"Sheriff Banks! Sheriff Banks!" the boy shouted as he ran up the desk, catching the man in mid-sip of his coffee. "Our cabin burned down and we tried to put it out, but itó"
"Whoa, whoa, son," Simon Banks said, putting his cup down untouched, his nose wrinkling as the odor of smoke wafting from the child filled his nostrils. Simon got up as Jim entered the office, the sheriff's face full of concern. "Jim, what's this about a fire?"
Jim sank into the chair across from Simon, soot soiling the rancher's duster and the same smoky smell hanging about him. "Yeah, Simon, my place burned down last night."
"BurnedÖ.How? You two seem to be all right, anyone else hurt?"
"No, it was just us there. The fire didn't spread beyond the cabin. I found a broken lamp when we searched it this morning. We saved what we could, but most of it's gone."
"I'm real sorry to hear that, Jim. I'll help in any way I can. If you and the boy need a place to stay.
"No, that's fine, Simon. I have stock to see to. We can sleep in the barn. I'm on my way to see Miss Rhonda. I have what clothing I could find and hoped she could mend them for us."
"I'm sure she'll do her best, Jim." Simon gestured to the pair's sooty clothes. "She can wash those for you, too. She should be back over at her place now that Darryl's at school."
"Thanks, we'll head over that way."
Blair trotted along next to his father, the shock of the previous day's events now giving over to the excitement of new things to come.
"Papa? Are we gonna go to Cheyenne again? Can I go to the bookstore there? Can‹"
"Hold on, Blair. No, we're not going again. I'll order through Mr. Taggert, but maybe‹"
"JUSTIN!" Blair shouted, cutting off his father. He ran up the walkway to meet his friend.
"BLAIR!" the older boy returned, running as well.
"Hi, Justin," Jim said, reaching the two, and looked around to locate Choate. Not seeing the younger rancher, he relaxed a bit.
"Hi, Uncle Jim!" Justin chirped.
"What are you up to?"
"Mr. Taggert said the blacksmith's dog had puppies again!" Justin replied excitedly.
"Again!?" Jim and Blair said in unison.
"Yup, and Baba said I could go see 'em while he gets supplies."
Blair turned beseeching eyes up to his father. "Oh, Papa, can I go, too? Please?"
"Well. . ."
"Please?" Justin joined in.
"All right," Jim said, resigned, before continuing on more firmly, "but just to look. We don't need another dog, Little Bit."
"Okay. Come on, Justin, I'll race you!" Blair said before racing down the boardwalk, Justin in hot pursuit.
Jim chuckled as the two ran around the corner. His mouth hardened as his thoughts drifted to Choate, realizing his neighbor was at the very place he'd been headed to. Not ready or willing to see his friend, let alone speak to him, Jim decided to do his business with the butcher and gunsmith first. That should give Choate plenty of time to be gone from Taggert's before he got there. He turned away to head for the other side of town.
~~~
Blair continued to run as he looked over his shoulder and smirked that he'd left his friend in the dust. He turned his attention back to where he was going a moment too late. Grunts from himself and the man he ran into blended together on impact. Blair backed away, embarrassed.
"Sorry, mister."
"Hey, boy, watch where you're going!" the big man spat out, then eyed Blair up and down, a frown on his face. "Don't I know you? Yeah. You're Naomi's boy. She owes me $50." He put a beefy paw on Blair's shoulder. "Where is she?"
"Mama died," he said bluntly, not wanting to be near this intimidating stranger one second longer than he had to. "I have to go." Blair made to move around the gruff man, but a rough hand grabbed him by an arm and shook him.
"Not so fast, boy. I want my money," the bully grunted, getting down in the boy's face, his foul breath bringing tears to Blair's eyes. "You're an orphan now. I'll make you work off your mother's debts."
"Let me go." Blair tried to pull away, but the man's grip tightened.
"Not until I get my money."
Fear ran through every fiber of Blair's body. On instinct, he gave his captor a swift kick in the shin. It was enough for the giant's grip to falter. Blair tore away from the man and fled down the boardwalk towards Sheriff Banks' office, at least he hoped that's the way he ran. Too soon he could hear loud footfalls from behind and panic began to overtake him. He looked up from his flight to see Patrick Choate striding towards him across the street, Justin in his wake. Oblivious to the wagons and such traveling the street, he ran to Choate.
"Uncle Paddy, he tried to hurt me!" Blair cried out before throwing himself at his uncle, hanging on tightly.
"You Naomi's latest chump?" the scraggly stranger asked, coming up right on Blair's heels. "I knew the boy was lying like he always does. I want my $50. Where is the tramp?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Paddy all but snarled as he continued to rub a soothing hand around Blair's back. "But I do know you're scaring a little boy. Why?"
"That little bastard is going to get me the money his ma owes me."
"You have a problem with my nephew, culo?" Choate's eyes blazed at that statement. "You tell me."
"Not if he quits lying and tells me where his thievin' ma is."
"Her grave's about a ten-hour hard ride northwest of town."
"Liar!" The man got right in Paddy's face, and Blair moved to stand behind his uncle to avoid being squished. "You know where she is, and you better tell me quick!"
The young rancher placed his hand in the middle of his antagonizer's chest and pushed. The unkempt man stumbled backwards for a few seconds before righting himself.
Blair's cry of, "Papa!" interrupted any retaliation before it started. The boy stumbled into his father's embrace.
Jim Ellison stood like granite, Blair's arms wrapped around his waist and face buried in his midriff. The rancher encircled his child in his arms, one hand rubbing calming circles on his back, the other securely holding Blair around his shoulders. Choate
felt the fury in his friend's crystal blue eyes and was thankful that it wasn't directed at him. The rowdy between them still had no clue to how close he stood to his end.
"Papa?" snorted the interloper. "You ain't that boy's pa, or has that tart roped you in?"
Never taking his eyes from his prey, Jim said far too calmly, "Patrick, take the boys over to Taggert's for some candy. I'll be along directly."
"But, Jim--"
Face like stone, eyes still boring into the squirming weasel of a man before him, Jim curtly said, "Go."
Paddy's face settled in a stubborn scowl for a moment before gently prying Blair from his father, the boy reluctantly letting go. Holding Blair's hand firmly, Choate escorted the two boys across the street to Taggert's general store -- thinking all the while about an infuriatingly stubborn pig his father once had. And how good he had tasted one Christmas.
~~~
"Blair," Paddy began as he approached the boy so engrossed in the goings on across the street. "Poppet, come away from the window."
"No."
Justin walked over with an assortment of stick-candy in his hand. He held them out to his friend. "What kind of candy sticks do you want?"
"I don't want any."
"Poppet--"
"NO," Blair said firmly, almost shouting. He turned briefly away from the window to say, "I want to be with Papa. He needs me," before resuming his vigil.
"No, Blair. Right now he needs to know that you're safe. He charged me with keeping you."
"But who's gonna keep him safe? What if he. . ." Blair stopped himself before he told his father's secret. His earlier fear had been replaced with concern for his father. If the elder Ellison froze up, his senses overloaded, what would happen? A secret was a secret, though, and so Blair held his tongue. "I mean what if he needs help?" he finished lamely.
"Then we can see him from this window."
They watch the argument end with Jim slamming the man up against the clap-board siding of the Red Dog Saloon before releasing him. The stranger slinked down the
boardwalk as Jim made his way across the street to the general store.
"Papa?"
Jim tousled his son's hair before dropping his hand to cup the worried face briefly. Smiling reassuringly, he said, "Nothing for you to concern yourself with. He won't be bothering us anymore."
"Thanks for your help, Choate," Jim said stiffly, still upset over the younger man's presumptions concerning the expansion of his cabin. He couldn't let that go. "Come on, son. We have a lot to do."
"Ellison!"
The rancher turned.
"You're just going to walk away?"
"Did you have something else to say to me, Choate?" Jim asked, evenly, not trusting his emotions after the events of the past few days.
"You gonna tell us what's going on? What's this all about? Tell me?"
Jim noticed the wide-eyed faces of the boys and didn't want to worry them further.
"He was just some crackpot. Nothing more. Now I've got some lumber and furnishings to--"
"Because our cabin burned last night!" Blair piped up, his father's comments reminding him of the exciting news.
"What?!" Choate exclaimed, turning stunned eyes to Jim.
"Wow!" Justin chimed in.
"Yeah, but we put it out," Blair continued, proudly.
"But lots of our stuff got burnt."
"Wow!" Justin said again.
"Ellison--"
"We're fine, Choate. Most of the cabin is gone, but the barn and stock are fine. Looks like I'll be building more than what I planned after all."
"You can stay at the Chelsea while we rebuild--"
"Blair and I can sleep in the barn."
"We'll need more lumber."
"I've got plenty."
"I can pull the men off the line to helpó"
"I didn't ask for your help, Choate."
"You're going to rebuild? Just you?"
"We'll be fine. If I need help, I'll ask."
The younger rancher frowned in anger, but held his tongue.
"Justin, the wagon's loaded. It's time to go. Make your goodbyes. Take care, Poppet. Ellison."
"Bye, Blair," Justin said, sadly, before giving Jim a hug. "Goodbye, Uncle Jim."
Smiling sadly at the boy, Jim tousled his hair. "Goodbye, Justin."
Blair stood by the window and watched the Choate's wagon until it was out of sight, Justin turned in the seat, waving all the time.
~~~
Harvey Trudwell stomped across the dusty street to the hitching post in front of the Golden Spur Saloon, his face scarlet with rage. He snatched the reins and threw himself into the saddle, savagely kicking the horse into a gallop. No heed was paid to the people and other riders in the street who had to dodge to escape colliding with him as he raced out of town.
'That damned cowboy!' he raged to himself. ' Who'd he think he was roughing him up that way! And taking in that bitch's brat!' He whipped his horse to run even faster, only viciously pulling back on the reins when he reached his camp near the river a few miles out of town.
Pacing up and down, raising a small dust storm, he ranted to himself out loud. "Damn her! And damn him, the jackass! Threaten ME with the law will he? Why he doesn't know who he's messin' with, the prick. I'll show him! Hell, I'll get even with that prissy bitch. She thought she was too good for me, huh? Leave me in the dead of night like the thief she was! Well, I'll have the last laugh. Yessiree."
He continued to wear a tread in the dust while working on a plan to get even with the imagined wrongs he'd cultivated over the years since that night he'd come home from a drunk only to find the beautiful redhead gone with his poke. The years and his wounded pride clouded his memory as to the real events that led up to that night. Pushed to the back of his mind were the memories of his taking the money she'd been given by supporters of her speaking out at suffrage rallies to go drinking and have a stake for a friendly game of cards. Besides, she was his woman. He had a right to the money she made, to hell with what she and those biddies said.
A hazy plan took shape in his hate-filled mind. Remounting his tired horse, he headed back to town. He'd get what was his, with interest.
~~~
"Blair, come help load the wagon," Jim said, more sharply than he intended.
Sullenly Blair obeyed, muttering, "I thought you didn't need anybody's help."
"That's it! Boy, I don't want to see you until you get rid of that sassy mouth. I want you to --"
"Hey, Blair, the blacksmith's dog had puppies. Why don't you go see them?" Taggert suggested to the second little boy of the day.
Jim looked at Taggert, took a deep breath and released it quickly. Turning to Blair, he said, "I'll pick you up there after the wagon is loaded. Go."
Without a word, Blair stomped out of the store and headed towards the blacksmith's shop for the second time that day, but with none of his former enthusiasm for the trip.
Jim and Taggert exchanged looks and Jim continued to load the wagon.
Blair grumbled the whole way to the blacksmith's shop. His father was being so unfair! Maybe he would just claim a pup from the blacksmith's and to blazes with what his father thought! As he crossed the dusty street to the smith's, Blair was unaware of the rider that came around the corner until the horse was right on him. In a blink he was scooped up over the saddle by the man who'd bothered him earlier, and he hollered as loud as he could!
"HELP!"
Rafe, Sheriff Bank's deputy, came running from the blacksmith's, the smith right behind him. The deputy took the situation in very quickly and drew his gun, but Trudwell anticipated trouble when the boy yelled and got the drop on Rafe. He fired three quick shots at the deputy, one bullet hit the mark, and Rafe went down clutching his side.
"Hold it right there!" Trudwell said to the smith, who was reaching for the fallen deputy's gun. "I got a message for you to give to Ellison! You tell him to bring two hun-- no, five thousand dollars, in gold, to the crossing at the Snake by sundown, or his boy dies!"
Trudwell galloped away before concerned townsfolk came to investigate the ruckus.
Jim came running, gun drawn. He trained his sight on the speck almost to the horizon and zoned out as Trudwell and Blair road out of sight.
~~~
"How is he, doc?" Simon asked the town doctor, Dr. McKay, while looking with great concern at his deputy lying in his sick bed.
"The bullet made a clean exit. No major organs were hit. He lost a fair amount of blood, but he's young, strong. He'll be fine in a few weeks."
Looking very relieved, Simon turned to his next priority. Jim Ellison paced back and forth across the doctor's office like a caged wild cat. A very tense and angry cat.
"And how are you feeling, Jim?"
"I told you I'm fine!" the anxious man snapped.
"It took almost a full five minutes to get you out of that trance, or whatever you want to call it."
"I'm fine, Simon. Why are we wasting time here? We need to go after that bastard and get Blair back!"
"He's not going to hurt his ace in the hole, Jim. We'll get the money and set up an ambush by the river. He doesn't seem very organized or to know the area. That place is full of hiding places. We'll take him, easy."
"He's got a grudge against Blair's mother, Simon. He wants revenge and I have no reason to believe he wouldn't hurt Blair just to get back at Naomi."
"We'll get him, Jim, and get Blair back without a hair out of place."
~~~
"Justin, for the last time, turn around and sit still," Choate growled, unaware of clenching the reins tighter.
They rode along in the wagon towards home in an uneasy silence, boy and man alone with their thoughts. Absently Justin turned his head to look back down the dusty road towards town ñ and the people they left behind.
"Justin--"
"Look!" the boy shouted and pointed at the rider galloping towards them. "I bet it's Uncle Jim! Don't that look like Blair?"
"Mierda!," Paddy hissed softly enough so he hoped, little ears couldn't hear. "Be still, Justin," Choate scolded, trying to make out the rider veering off the road to charge through a meadow towards the river.
Justin had pegged the curly-headed passenger correctly as Blair, but the rider held the struggling child across the saddle as they galloped out of town. What had his nephew done in so short a time to make Jim so angry he'd---
"Wait. . .I know that. . ." The horse wasn't Sentry, and the rider damned sure wasn't Jim. Choate jumped down from the wagon and unhitched the horses, shouting orders to Justin as he went.
"Justin, ride back to town as fast as you can and get Sheriff Banks." Without waiting for a response, he grabbed up Justin and plunked him on the horse's back, pushing the reins into the boy's hands. "Hold on tight with your knees. Tell them what you've seen and that I've followed them. Hurry!" He slapped the horse's flank hard, taking a moment to watch Justin ride swiftly away. Pulling his rifle from the wagon, Choate mounted the other wagon horse and galloped after the mystery rider and Blair.
~~~
Blair had almost regained his breath from being thrown across the saddle when the horse suddenly jerked to a halt. He felt rough hands push him to the ground, robbing him of his breath once again.
"Don't you move, boy, or I'll hog tie you!
Understand?"
Blair nodded, although he had no intention of obeying. He'd play possum and at the first chance he got he'd clobber this jackanapes before hightailing it back to town. As if his mind had been read, his bandana was yanked from around his neck. His captor used it to tie his hands behind his back.
"That oughta hold you. Uncomfortable? Don't worry, in a few hours your 'papa' will deliver the money I'm owed, with interest, and he can have you back."
"You ain't getting anything, but a sock in the eye and sent to jail!"
"You got a big mouth, kid, just like that tramp ma of yours."
Blair lashed out with a hard kick to the man's ankle, striking pay-dirt as Trudwell bellowed. The boy didn't wait to gloat, he rolled to his feet and ran!
~~~
Jim had just swung himself into Sentry's saddle, the posse ready to ride, when the sound of angry voices and galloping hoof beats reached him like an approaching tidal wave.
Before he could let out his sentinel senses, Justin came careening around a corner and down the street, riding pell-mell straight for him.
"Uncle Jim! Uncle Jim!" the child screeched, kicking the horse to make it gallop faster.
The men of the posse skillfully maneuvered their mounts out of the way as Justin rode down on them. Jim deftly turned Sentry and scooped Justin from the back of the wagon horse as it began to pass him, the animal running too fast for the boy on its back to slow it, let alone stop it.
"Whoa, Justin!" Jim said, trying to get the winded boy calmed enough to speak. "Take deep breaths. Slowly. That's good. In. Now out. Again." When it seemed that Justin could talk without having to gulp air for every syllable, Jim asked, "What's wrong, squirt? Where's your father?"
"Following the man that's got Blair."
Jim swallowed the foul worded curse he wanted to shout, and said instead, "Take me there."
"They went that way, Uncle Jim." Justin pointed back the way he'd come. "Baba said to hurry."
Jim urged Sentry into a gallop in the direction that Justin pointed, the boy seated in front of him in the saddle, the posse following in his wake.
~~~
Blair ran blindly through the woods while trying to free his hands from the bandana, not daring to look back to see if his captor pursued him. He thought he heard the man's heavy footfalls getting closer as his hands finally slipped from their bonds, or it could have just been the pounding of his own heart. Thoughts imagined of what might be barely inches behind distracted the boy from what lay just in front and he tripped over a stone in his path, scrapping his knee as he tumbled to the ground. He sobbed in fright, frustration and pain, struggling to his feet again to run, adrenaline keeping the pain pulsating through his bloodied knee from registering.
Lungs bursting, Blair felt like he'd been running forever. He heard water running up ahead and headed towards the sound, hoping he could swim downstream and away to safety. Rounding a clump of trees, it took all his will to fight his momentum and fall backwards onto his backside, saving himself from falling off the towering cliff he almost ran off.
An involuntary scream ripped from his very soul, and he scooted away from the dizzying height, as he had in so many nightmares before. Backing into a tree, he used it to crawl up to a stand, taking in huge calming gulps of air as he did so. So possessed by the fear of heights and falling, Blair didn't hear someone breaking through the brush behind him until his captor grabbed him roughly around the waist and held him over the raging river. Blair screamed again and tried to climb up the man's arm to get away from the water below.
"Caught ya, you little vermin! Try and get away and rob me of my money again, will you?! I'll teach you! I should just drop your sorry carcass and watch you
bounce all the way down. It'd be worth the five thousand to see that bitch's brat die that way!" Harvey Trudwell ranted between his own hard breathing. He brought Blair back to solid ground, to give his arm a rest and to play with his prey a little more.
"What? You don't like heights, brat? Scared are, ya?" he cackled. "Well, you won't have to be scared for long!"
With those words, Harvey made to lift the boy again. "In you, go, you little bastard, and may Hell take you!"
~~~
The poor wagon horse was giving his all to keep the pace his rider set. Paddy felt the animal falter beneath him. This is the way they had come. The two of them couldn't be too far ahead. Gently pulling on the horse's reins, the rancher slowed the animal down to a walk, then finally a halt.
Sitting up in the saddle. Choate visually scanned the woods around him. They had to be here. He had to find them before Blair got hurt.
The horse's ears perked forward, then to the side. Choate turned in that direction and listened himself. "What do you hear, boy? Is it Blair?" The horse's ears turned back towards him as if listening to what the rancher was saying, then back towards the woods.
Choate eased himself from the saddle, pulling his rifle from its sheath.
Crouching low and stalking forward, he continued into the thick of the woods. 'Come on, poppet," he thought anxiously. "Tell me where you are." Part of him wanted to shout out until the boy answered him. But he knew that would only put Blair's life in danger. "If you've hurt one strand of that child's head--" A frightened scream interrupted that threat. The young rancher took off at a run.
Several yards into the thick underbrush, Choate stopped to get his bearings. He had heard the scream come from here. Before he could take another step forward, he heard Blair scream again.
He came upon the clearing just in time to see the outlaw holding Blair over the precipice. Violently cocking the rifle and aiming, he yelled, "Stop!"
The outlaw turned. "I'll kill him."
"Then I'll kill you. Either way, you won't get your
money."
He brightened. "You got it?"
"Back in my saddle bags."
"Go get it."
"Give me Blair, first."
Harvey licked his lips, thinking over the request.
"Drop your gun first."
Choate shook his head. "Sorry, but I can't do that."
Harvey sneered at the young rancher, and tucked Blair up under his left arm before quickly reaching for the pistol at his waist with his right.
"Then go to Hell," Harvey shouted, his Colt clearing leather.
'The eyes, mijo,' his grandfather had told him. 'If a man draws on you, watch his eyes. They will tell.'
A second before the outlaw reached for his gun, his eyes changed. Paddy fired, catching the badman in the center of his forehead. The momentum propelled Harvey into the air, his own shot going wild, before carrying him, and Blair, over the edge.
"Uncle Paddy!" Blair screamed.
The young rancher tossed his rifle aside as he made a lunge for his nephew.
Catching the boy by the arm with one hand and in a death grip on his collar with the other, the young rancher dug in the toes of his boots and pulled. Blair slid through the outlaw's grip like an eel.
"Don't look down, poppet," he whispered, his voice showing the exertion of his deeds.
"You got me, Uncle Paddy?" Blair sniffled, trying to obey.
"I got you, querido," he assured his nephew in a soothing voice. "Don't look down, bien?"
The boy nodded as he gripped both of Paddy's arms with his.
"Now push yourself up with your feet on the rocks. Come on, chiquito. It's too cold for a swim."
Slowly, painfully, Paddy pulled as Blair pushed, crawling up the rock wall like a crab, until they reached the top. The young rancher pulled them both up and over, collapsing in the grass beneath them with Blair resting on top.
~~~
Jim suddenly brought Sentry to an abrupt halt, catching the following posse unaware, horses whinnying and riders cursing to bring them under control.
Simon rode up alongside Jim. "Why the Sam Hill stop here, Ellison?"
Jim's reply was one of silence as he focused on the trees across the meadow the road cut through.
Justin looked up at Jim and then followed his gaze, mimicking his uncle's silence.
"Jim?" Simon asked, growing concerned about his friend as they sat there for several seconds.
The rancher remained silent, all muscles tense.
The members of the posse eyed each other with shared consternation.
Without notice, Jim urged Sentry into a gallop across the knee-deep grass, Justin holding the saddle horn and some mane for dear life. Simon and the posse watched bewildered from the road, not sure about following any more wild geese. Once again, Jim brought his mount to a quick stop just before the trees.
"What the?" Simon exclaimed in amazement and confusion, as he watched another rider with a boy emerge from the forest. "Isn't that Blair and Choate?" he asked Henry, the blacksmith, riding next to him. The man nodded, just as stunned as Simon. They watched as the boys exchanged horses before Simon gave the posse the command to return to town. He'd stay to make sure Ellison and Choate gave him a full report, but it seemed all was well.
Jim waited for Choate and Blair rather than continue into the woods, mostly to give himself some time to formulate what he would say and do, but a little because of fear. His emotions were right on the surface, a very uncomfortable place for the rancher,
and he needed to rein them back in. He'd heard Blair's chattering and it brought him up short. Blair was happily talking to someone, but he couldn't tell who until his little chatterbox let that someone get a word in edgewise. With great relief Jim heard Patrick answer Blair. That's when he spurred Sentry on, and why they now waited.
A lot had been said between the two men these past few weeks. Words and actions that could not be taken back, but could be forgiven.
Thoughts still in a jumble, Jim smiled broadly as Choate and Blair came into view.
"Papa!" Blair shouted, reaching for Jim as Choate lifted Justin off of Sentry and settled the boy in front of him.
"Baba!" Justin swiveled in the saddle to embrace his father. "Are you all right?"
Choate reached down and cupped his son's cheek. "Estoy bien, mijo."
"What happened? Where is that man?" Justin asked.
The rancher smiled. "Someplace were he'll never bother us again, corazon."
Before Justin could open his mouth, Blair blurted out, "Papa, you should have seen Uncle Paddy! That dirty so-and-so was going to throw me in the river! But Uncle Paddy got him good." Blair beamed with pride in his uncle.
Giving Blair a squeeze, not wanting to think about how close he came to not being able to do that again, Jim reached his hand out to Patrick to shake. The younger rancher met him half-way and the two shook hands firmly.
"Thank you, Patrick," Jim said, releasing Choate's hand.
"Por nada, amigo."
The two men headed their mounts back to the road to town at a walk. The air between them was still a little static.
Jim sighed quietly and said, "You still have those plans?"
Choate watched the rancher with wary eyes. "Si," he replied cautiously.
Scratching behind an ear Jim said off-handedly, "Maybe I can look at them again. Two rooms. Maybe a loft--"
The younger rancher smiled. "Muy bien! The two more rooms and a loft will be an excellent addition to you plans. It will be a fine house, Jim." The horse shied and it took a moment to regain control. "I will send the men over with the supplies day after tomorrow. We can begin working on the foundation then."
Jim smiled, then frowned as the younger rancher's words sunk in. "Hold on, amigo. Two rooms total and maybe a loft."
As the two men debated the subject all the way back to town, Blair caught Justin's attention and rolled his eyes dramatically, Justin following suit.
~~~
At last, the final nail had been hammered in and all the tools put away. As his friends who'd come to help build the new house -- Choate and his crew, Simon, and Henry, and the boys, Justin and Blair -- gathered around the feast Chu Wa had laid out, Jim stood back from his new home and appraised it.
Not too bad. He especially liked the set of four glass panes set high in the front wall that gave him an excellent view of the road approaching the house from his new sleeping loft. Simon and Henry scoffed at all the glass in the front, with the home having windows below and above, but the open feeling and height made the rancher feel more secure.
The small bedroom directly under his lair would be Blair's. Until a door could be made, the blanket across the doorway would have to do. The sentinel was glad the boy finally had a place for all his "important treasures".
At least they had a sturdy front door! Jim smiled to himself remembering the antics of Choate's men, Hoss and Avery, as they crafted it. Yes, it was a wonder he had a door at all. Those two were almost as bad as he and Choate.
And that brought him to giving a critical eye to the rest of the house. In addition to the bedroom for Blair, the main floor was an open room. Spacious, yet cozy. The old fireplace had been salvaged from the fire and Jim had ordered a leather sofa from a catalog in Henry's store, as he had two chests of drawers, an armoire, small roll-top desk, rocking chair and overstuffed leather chair. He tired not to think of the expense. The hands had built two bedsteads, one a bunk bed for Blair's room, a table with two benches and a set of shelves. A new mantle was made for the fireplace and the "blue lady" once again reigned in her rightful spot. The new kitchen area to the right
of Blair's room and the covered walkway to the outhouse around the back completed the new casa de Ellison.
"Perfect," he said quietly, very pleased with the results.
~~~
"Papa!" Blair shouted, running up to Jim, a plate with what used to be a piece of chocolate cake in one hand and a dirty fork in the other, which was clean in comparison to the boy's face. "You want some cake? Chu Wa made it and it's real good." The boy smiled, crumbs of cake plastered to his face with bits of frosting. He looked like a hog in heaven.
Jim was about to answer when he looked past the boy to the barn and saw Choate talking with Chu Wa, the young rancher saddling his horse. Without even thinking, Jim's super sensitive hearing took over.
'There is cake inside.'
'I'm not hungry.'
'You will not celebrate your achievement.'
Puzzled by the exchange overheard, Jim patted Blair's head absently. "I'll be back, Little Bit. Save some cake." He slowly walked towards the barn, ready to pound some sense into a certain stubborn Mexican.
~~~
Chu Wa stood at the door to the barn and watched as his employer tightened the harness on the wagon's lead horse.
"Master Patrick?"
Choate glanced up briefly before resuming his task.
"There is cake inside."
"I'm not hungry."
"You will not celebrate your achievement?"
Choate glanced up at him again. "They don't need me to help them celebrate," he said sadly as he walked around the team.
"They need nothing to help them celebrate, Master Patrick," Chu Wa said as the young rancher started to climb into the saddle of his horse. The old man pointed to the house. "They pay homage to a great achievement."
Paddy's eyes followed the movement of the old man's arm. "It isn't the house I wanted for him, old man."
Chu Wa smiled. "No, but it is the house he wanted for himself."
The young rancher frowned. "He deserved more." He put his foot in the stirrup. "You and Justin ride home in the wagon with the men, Chu Wa," he told the small man.
"It is a fine house," Chu Wa told him.
Patrick stopped, looking at it once more. "Yes. It is a fine house."
Chu Wa nodded sagely. "Not everyone wants a Chelsea, Master Patrick."
"My plans weren't for another Chelsea, old man."
"But that is it, Master Patrick. They were your plans."
The young man stopped again. "They were good plans."
"Yes." The ancient tucked his hands into the sleeves of his gown. "There was no dispute."
"And he rejected them."
"Only the plans, Master Patrick. Not the planner. And only because they were not his."
The rancher frowned again growing pensive. "I think I see your way of thinking, ancient one. You missed your calling."
"Calling?"
"You should have been a priest. . . or a teacher."
Chu Wa laughed softly. "Then you will join the celebration?"
Paddy sighed.
"For the lesson?"
The rancher retied the horse to its post. "This is a test."
The tiny man smiled. "And there is cake."
Paddy blinked in surprise a moment before throwing his arm around slender shoulders and leading them back towards the party.
~~~
Jim stood to the side of the barn entrance to avoid colliding with Choate and Chu Wa.
"You're missing the feed, Patrick," he began awkwardly. "It was good of your man to cook it."
"Glad we could help," Patrick said, letting his arm slip from around the old man's shoulders.
A big grin spread across Jim's face, his thoughts and feelings finally coming into alignment. Without hesitation, or preamble, he enveloped Choate in a bear hug. "So am I, Patrick. You're a good friend. I'm glad you're here."
He let the younger rancher go, in an effort to rein in his emotions. To regain balance he said conversationally, "Blair tells me there's excellent cake to be had. Of course now that he's had some there may be none left."
A tiny smile graced Paddy's face. "I'm certain mijo has had a hand in that disappearance."
Jim laughed more heartily than he had in many weeks and slapped Choate on the back.
"I agree, my friend. I agree totally."
The End