This is a little smarmy piece of an AU that spun off of a AU.

Thanks to BCW, for encouraging me to post this, because I wasn't going to. It was just a little thank you to a friend. Look what you started! I publicly admit, you told me so. I've almost got the prequel done and the sequel is working its way into my mind. I think I'll be stuck in this time warp for quite awhile.

Thank you to all who have written with your comments. I appreciate all of them.

This story was revised to correct continuity problems that arose when writing the prequel. It's basically the same, just tweeked.

What Child Is This, revised
by Klair

Wyoming Territory, December 1873

Jim Ellison finished putting on his buffalo coat and Stetson before turning to impart final instructions to the little boy making popcorn over the fire with intense concentration. Jim smiled fondly at the sight. If the little imp hadn't eaten so much of the last batch, he'd have that popcorn string ready for the tree by now. He approached the curly-headed eight year old and tousled the soft brown curls getting the boy's attention. Huge bright, blue eyes turned to him expectantly.

"I'm going to see to the stock now, Blair. You stay in the cabin, I should be back in a couple of hours. If you need me, call from the porch. Understand?"

"Yes, Jim," the boy replied dutifully before gleefully holding up his thread with ten whole pieces of popcorn on it. "See what I did?"

"Yes, I see." Jim inspected the trimming. Suppressing an amused grin, he looked with feigned seriousness at the string's creator. "Think you can have that finished when I get back so we can finish decorating the tree?"

Looking skeptically at his latest popcorn batch and the string, Blair knitted his eyebrows, "I'll sure try, Jim."

"You do that, Little Bit, and no more tasting. You'll spoil your appetite for supper." The rancher patted the boy's head before heading for the door.

"Aww, Jim! I gotta test 'em. You don't want bad corn on the tree?"

Jim pointed his index finger, a sign Blair had come to recognize as 'I'm serious, obey or else', and stated firmly, "I want you to eat your supper tonight, young man. Go easy on the corn." Jim smiled to ease to admonishment.

"Yes, sir." Blair nodded, shivering as a cold gust of air came in when Jim opened the door to head for the barn.

Blair diligently strung his corn. This was the first Christmas he got to make all the ornaments for the tree. Well, the first Christmas he got to have a tree of his own, let alone make any ornaments. He smiled at the memory of Jim taking him out the other day to select 'his' Christmas tree. They spent almost three hours tromping around the snowy woods to find the 'just right' pine tree. Blair glanced with pride over at his tree. It wasn't real big, just four feet tall, Jim said. Just a little taller than Blair. He looked at the decorations already gracing the tree, a paper chain and some pine cones Jim let him paint red. It wasn't the biggest or fanciest tree the boy had ever seen, but this was all his. All his and Jim's.

The boy thought back over the past six months since the rancher had found him by the overturned wagon. . .and his mother's body. Blair moved quickly from that thought. He loved and missed his mother, but knew she smiled down on him seeing him so well cared for. Sometimes the way Jim fussed at, and over, him made Blair think maybe a little too cared for. Proper table manners, say 'please' and 'thank you', wash your hands, clean your teeth, say your prayers, stay in sight, Jim had more rules than Blair could count! That was the hardest adjustment for a boy who had never been made to follow a rule in his life. A pout, quivering lip or big sad eyes were all it took for his mother to capitulate to his whims and desires. What Blair wanted, Blair got, to the best of his mother's ability. It took a few months to retrain eight years of bad habits, but Jim guided the boy with a firm and loving hand to be the reasonably well behaved youth he was now.

Blair worshipped the ground Jim Ellison walked on, his heart's desire, to be Jim's son. Of course, he already was in every thing but name, Jim having been appointed his guardian by Judge Pendergrast back in September. Still, it's what he wished for every night, to be Blair Ellison, son of James Ellison, instead of Blair Sandburg, orphan.

His popcorn string finally finished, Blair tried to see the time on the mantle clock. Too high for him to see, the boy pulled a table chair over and stood on its seat. Big hand almost on the twelve, little hand on the four. Four o'clock. Jim would be back soon, Blair thought happily. He glanced at the porcelain figure of a dancing woman, the only other object on the mantle. Jim forbade Blair to touch it without him there. The delicate figure belonged to Jim's mother, the only thing he had to remember her by. Blair could understand that, he had only his mother's locket. He wore it constantly around his neck. Still, the smooth beautiful dancing woman called to him and without conscious thought, Blair reached out to touch her delicately raised arm. Coming to his senses with a jolt, he pulled back with his fingers still on her arm, tilting the dancer down with a crack against the mantle. Blair almost fell off the chair at seeing what he'd done. The woman's arm had broken off in his hand. Hot tears came immediately to the boy's eyes. Jim would punish him severely for this. His guardian told him not to touch it, and Jim didn't like being disobeyed. Not one little bit.

Blair dropped the arm on the mantle and ran out of the cabin toward the nearby woods in a panic. When he ran out of breath, he fell against a large tree and cried out his misery. Jim wouldn't want him anymore. He'd rather get a spanking than that, and that was saying something because Blair hated being spanked. Not that it happened much and the smart wore off after a few hours, too. No, it was letting Jim down that hurt the most, and he had let his guardian down big this time. Maybe so big, Jim couldn't forgive him. At that thought, Blair huddled into an even tinier ball and sobbed louder.

Jim returned from the barn later than he intended, chores completed, and stamped his feet on the porch to dislodge the snow. It must be two feet deep in some spots. He stopped stamping when he noticed the door ajar.

"Blair! I've told you before to close this door tight," he began to scold as he entered the cabin, "I'm not heating all the out. . ." Jim cut himself off when he noticed the absence of a certain curly-headed boy -- and the broken figure. Jim quickly went back out to the porch and saw the tracks leading away to the woods. He bounded off following the small footprints. Within fifteen minutes he heard crying, and soon came upon the huddled miserable boy. Jim scooped Blair up in his arms, noting the chill in the little body. He unbuttoned his large coat and sandwiched the freezing child between its warmth and his own warm body.

"Ssshhh, ssshhh, Little Bit. It's all right. I'm here. You're okay. Let's get you home and warmed up." Jim continued to try to soothe the upset boy all the way back to the cabin without much success.

Reaching the cabin, Jim attempted to put Blair down to pull off his wet clothes. The boy held on tighter and kept sobbing, "I'm sorry." Over and over again. The rancher pried Blair from around his neck and waist and set him firmly on the floor.

"Stand by the fire to keep warm while I get you some dry clothes. Stop crying, you're all right." Jim returned with a nightshirt, heavy socks and two blankets. He quickly stripped the sniffling boy and rubbed his cold damp skin with one of the blankets. Once the skin glowed pink again, Jim dressed the sulking child and wrapped him in the dry blanket before sitting the boy in his lap in the big armchair by the fireplace. "Hush now, child. You're all right. You gave me quite a scare," Jim said as Blair tried to burrow deeper into his chest, his breath hitching. Jim held the broken arm so Blair could see it. "Tell me what happened, Blair."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. It was an accident. I'm sorry. I'll never be naughty again. I promise."

"I know you're sorry. I figured you didn't do this on purpose, and don't make promises that are impossible to keep." Jim said patiently to the child who buried his face deeper still into the comfort of Jim's embrace.

"Blair look at me," Jim began firmly, "come on. Why did you run away?"

In a voice barely above a whisper, the boy said, "I was afraid you'd be real angry and give me a whippin'."

Jim took a deep breath and let it out while mentally counting to ten. "Blair, have I ever beaten you before? Or even threatened to?"

"No, but you spanked me." Finally peering up at his guardian from his haven.

Nodding, Jim replied, "Yes, I've swatted your backside on occasion, with my hand, because you disobeyed me and put yourself in harm's way as a result. Why did you think I would do more than that this time?"

"She was from your mama. I'd be real upset if anyone broke my mama's locket. I'm sorry, Jim. I'll be good. Don't send me away." Blair rehid his face in Jim's chest.

"Shhh, it's all right. You're not going anywhere and neither am I. Look at me, Blair." The rancher waited until he did so. "You are the most important person in my life. I love you very much. I will never leave you or make you leave. Do you believe me?"

"Yes, sir. I love you, too, Jim. I'm sorry I touched her. She's so pretty and I just touched her hand and she fell over and broke and I'll never do it again."

"She is special to me, but a little glue will fix her right up. I'm not going to spank you, this time. Happy Christmas. You will, however, go to bed early tonight, and no dessert for a week. That's for scaring me half to death. Always face up to your troubles, Blair. Running away is a sure fire way of getting yourself in a bigger pickle. Understand, imp?"

"Yes, sir. I promise."

"Good. Now, I want you to open a Christmas gift from me. I was saving it until tomorrow, but I think we both need it right now," Jim said as he handed Blair a big envelope.

"What is it?"

"Open it. What does it say?"

Most of the words Blair couldn't make out because of the fancy type, but the title nearly took his breath away.

"Cer-tif-icate of A-doption. You want to 'dopt me?"

"Already have. You're mine now, Blair. Judge Pendergrast signed this back in October. It was in that package with the encyclopedias that Sheriff Banks delivered. I was going to tell you right then, but I thought it'd make a special Christmas gift for both of us. Is that okay with you, Little Bit? I had him write the name Blair Sandburg Ellison, so you wouldn't lose your mama's name when you took mine. If you don't like it. . ." any further words were impossible because Blair had a strangle hold around Jim's neck as he hugged his new father tight.

Blair nodded against Jim's neck, and the rancher chuckled. "I take that as a yes." Jim tightened his embrace around his precious bundle. "I love you, my son."

"I love you too, papa," Blair said into his father's shoulder. He suddenly looked up, hope in his eyes. "Does this mean I can have desserts now?"

"Blair..." Jim's voice warned.

"Just checking," the boy assured as he nestled into the security of his
father's embrace.

Jim just shook his head. "Come on, imp. Let's get you fed and to bed."

Blair drifted off to sleep that night somewhere between "nose like a cherry" and "dash away all." Jim closed the book, A Night Before Christmas, and tucked the blankets around the boy's shoulders. He quietly filled the boy's stocking, chuckling at remembering Blair's request, he denied, to use Jim's sock instead of his own, before quietly exiting the snug cabin to check the stock before turning in. He looked up to see a shooting star make it's way across the sky, but didn't bother to make a wish. He already had all he wanted.

The End