Rating: G, this is family stuff, folks!

This is a prequel to my AU story, What Child Is This?

Much thanks to Tip for her support and help in writing this story. It wouldn't be here without it.

Comments accepted via BCW's e-mail. Flames will be read, laughed at and deleted. That's more time than they deserve.

Where We Are To Be
by Klair

Wyoming Territory, May 1867

With a gentle touch to the reins, Jim Ellison brought his mount to a halt at the entry of the small valley. He sat erect in the saddle, his six foot plus, muscular frame, taut with tension as he took in the sight with critical sky blue eyes. Grassy meadows gave way to forest covered hills which in turn stood in front of snowcapped mountains. A substantial creek flowed down the right side of the valley, the sound soothing to the weary ex-soldier's nerves. Taking a deep breath of pine and grass scented air, he rode on to the cabin in the distance. Reaching the yard, noting the fence and adjoining corrals were still in good repair, he dismounted. Tying his horse to a post, he went inside the deserted split-log cabin.

The door swung easily on its hinges as he pushed. Judging from the layer of dust everywhere, the empty, one room dwelling hadn't been occupied in quite some time. He inspected the walls, fireplace, water pump and windows. Whoever built it had been an excellent craftsman. Although, judging from the small size of the place, not a family man. That suited the ex-soldier fine. He didn't want company. The banker told him the previous owner had died leaving no heirs. It had remained vacant for almost a year. He inspected the barn next, finding it equally satisfactory.

He stood in the yard, took his battered Stetson off, unbuttoned his duster. Face tilted toward the clear blue sky, he took another deep breath, held it and let it out slowly, feeling some of the tension in his body flow out with it. Jim Ellison, ex-Union officer, ex-southerner -- according to his father, ex-groom -- according to Carolyn's father, was so very tired of everyone and their expectations. After the war and his tour of duty ended, he returned to the family's farm in Virginia long enough to reconcile to an uneasy truce with his younger brother, Steven - ex Confederate soldier, collect his personal belongings and a few family mementos before heading west with all possible speed. He wanted to put as much distance between himself and the way of life war brings. Jim didn't want to be that man anymore, but didn't know what man he wanted to be either. One thing he knew for certain, he wanted to be left alone. People only brought heartache and trouble. Jim mounted up and rode back to the fledgling town of Cascade, intent to tell the banker he'd buy the place. The peaceful valley seemed just what he needed.

***

Wyoming Territory, July 1873

Jim Ellison watched with growing frustration as the little boy continued to pick apart the biscuit on his plate. Nothing Jim had cooked since they were thrown together a week ago met with the child's approval. Nothing Jim did period met with the curly-headed terror's approval either. "It's not the way Mama makes it...Mama let's me stay up as late as I want...Mama said I don't have to take a bath if I don't want to...Mama, etc..." Which would have been fine with the rancher, except Mama wasn't here. Mama lay under six feet of soil by a tree near the meadow over a four hour ride away.

Riding back from visiting friends at the Shoshoni reservation, Jim had come across the tragic remains of a wagon accident. What a woman and child were doing crossing the open country themselves, Jim couldn't imagine. The woman named Naomi, according to the boy, only lived a few more minutes after Jim's arrival. That's all the time she needed to make the lone wolf rancher promise, on his honor as a gentleman, to take care of her precious little eight year old son, Blair. For the past week he had been giving his best to do just that, in his opinion with limited success.

Apparently, Naomi gave Blair free rein to do what he pleased, never enforcing any structure or rules. Given the recent upheavals in the boy's life, Jim tried to cut him some slack in the beginning. Although, after enduring Blair's insolent and sullen behavior for only one day, Jim laid down some ground rules. After all, how could Jim expect good behavior from this little free spirit if Blair didn't know his expectations? Jim tried to keep them simple: When called to a meal, come immediately and wash hands before sitting down at the table; ask for things to be passed, don't grab; if you cast disparaging remarks about the food, you will be excused from the table, no eating until the next meal is served; bedtime is 8 p.m., period; a few questions are fine, but do what you're told, when you're told to do it, question later; no back talk; no cussing; no tantrums; say please and thank you; be honest; put things away when finished using them; and use your handkerchief, not your shirt sleeve, to wipe your nose. A few simple rules.

The rancher grew weary of Blair continually pushing at these dictates. His life had been uncomplicated just six days ago then Blair dropped on him, and life as he knew it stopped. James Ellison, confirmed bachelor, conceded to himself, raising this boy would be either the greatest challenge of his life or the death of him. His experience as a captain in the Union army and memories of his own upbringing, pleasant and not so pleasant, were his only guide to dealing with the sullen, petulant child.

It took two missed meals for the sarcastic remarks about Jim's cooking to stop. Blair ate better after that, but not well enough for the rancher to stop worrying. Jim made sure to have biscuits or bread on the table so when the boy turned his nose up at the main course there would still be something to fill his belly. Looking across the table again at the quiet child who sat picking apart a biscuit, and hadn't touched his stew, Jim remembered his own reaction to his mother's death when he was ten. Jim had cried for days. He cried in private of course, his father not approving of men openly weeping.

"Blair, take your elbows off the table and stop playing with your food." Blair looked up for a moment, seemingly gauging his guardian's mood then complied. The boy began to idly move the spoon through the thick liquid but never brought the spoon to his mouth. Jim continued to eat his own meal, remembering how his younger brother Steven coped with the loss of their mother.

Steven reacted more like Blair, acting up and getting into trouble. Steven spent a great deal of time after their mother's death in the woodshed with their father and his razor strop, or lying across their bed crying afterwards. He tried to console his little brother, and resented his father's harsh treatment of the grieving child. Jim vowed he would never treat any child of his as sternly as his father did his sons. Blair tested Jim's resolve to his youthful promise.

"I'm done." Jim roused from his memories by the first words Blair had spoken for over an hour.

"Are you asking to be excused from the table?" Jim asked conversationally, trying not to sound as annoyed as he felt at seeing a still very full bowl in front of the boy.

"Yes, may I be excused?" Blair asked with barely concealed impatience. When Jim ignored his request the sullen boy added, "Please."

"Yes, you may. Put your bowl and cup on the side board. Blair," Jim said, bringing his own dish to the sink, "I want you to go to the barn and get the stack of horse blankets. Put them next to the corral that the new horses are in, I want to begin their training. After you do that, you can go play, but stay where I can see you. I'll be out directly after I soak these dishes."

"Yes, Jim," Blair said, pausing in the opened doorway. "I can put the blankets on the horses, too."

Jim counted to ten before replying. Blair liked the horses a great deal, especially Jim's mount, Sentry. The big black horse and the boy had quickly taken to each other. Sometimes Jim would saddle the great horse and let Blair ride him around the yard while Jim worked with the new stock. The only time Jim saw the child smile was around Sentry. But, Sentry, had years of training, the new horses in the corral did not. A fact Jim had been trying to get through to the stubborn child for the past six days.

"No, Blair. We've talked about this before. When those horses are gentled more then you can help. For now, you stay out of the corral. I forbid you to go near those animals, you could get hurt. You hear me?" Jim kept his voice firm and his expression serious to leave no room for
argument.

"Yes, sir," Blair muttered before slamming the door on his way out.

Jim opted not to call the boy back to have him shut the door properly. Jim tried to be patient with Blair, recognizing his misbehavior and surliness as similar to Steven's conduct after their mother's death. Blair didn't cry when they buried his mother. He stood quietly by the grave while Jim said a few words and filled in the hole. Jim promised the boy he would buy a nice marker, and they could visit any time Blair wanted to. The child's lack of tears greatly concerned the rancher. Not even when out of Jim's sight did the boy give way to his grief. Instead he fought every instruction or rule his guardian handed down. Jim's limited patience had nearly reached its end.

Blair stalked across the yard to the barn. Jim had so many rules! Mama didn't care if he washed behind his ears real well or ate all his food. Mama didn't wash his mouth out with soap for cussing, although she did say she didn't like that kind of talk. Mama let him stay up late as he wanted to. She told him fanciful stories about faraway places, tucked him in and kissed his cheek before saying sweet dreams.

Blair grudgingly admitted, while Jim didn't make up stories, he did read them. Jim read Jules Vernes, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, one chapter every night before tucking Blair in and kissing his forehead. Jim said have sweet dreams, too. Still, Mama would have let me touch the horses. Blair took the blankets to the corral as instructed, still pouting about Jim's protectiveness. He only takes care of me because Mama made him promise, Blair reminded himself when he began to feel affection for his bossy guardian. He's not my papa. My father died before I was born and now my mama's...gone, too.

The boy eyed the peaceful horses in the corral. They don't look dangerous to me. Jim's just being ornery. Blair took a blanket off >the top of the stack and went into the corral. The blanket barely touched the horse he'd approached before the beast reared back causing Blair to stumble and fall, before all hell broke loose.

Jim had almost reached the corral before seeing the curly-headed boy trying to put a saddle blanket on the most skittish of the new horses. He ran faster than he remembered running in his life and reached the corral just as the blasted nag reared back and Blair fell. Jim dove through the fence slats, dodging flaying hooves to reach the boy sprawled in the dirt. He grabbed Blair around the middle, holding him tightly to his chest, and climbed back through the fence to safety.

"Why did you do that!?" Jim shook Blair by the shoulders before hugging the trembling boy again, whispering, "Thunderation, child, you could have been killed." Jim felt his own body shiver with fear at the thought of what might have happened.

Determined to make sure this never happened again, he sat on the edge of the water trough before pulling Blair, face down, across his lap. Jim made sure the spanks he landed on the increasingly squirming backside stung plenty, not wanting to risk a repeat of this misbehavior, ever. After eight swats had been delivered, Jim set the teary-eyed boy on his feet. The livid rancher shook an admonishing finger under the boy's nose as he lectured, "Don't you ever do that again. I don't give you orders just to hear myself talk, boy. I do it to keep you safe. You scared me out of my wits, young man. If you ever disobey me again when I forbid you to do something, I will spank your bare bottom. Do you understand?" Even though Blair nodded his head, from the rebellious look in those big, water-filled, blue eyes Jim could tell the boy missed the point.

Jim rose from the trough and guided Blair back to the cabin by his upper right arm. "I think you need some time to reflect to see the error of your actions, young man. You are going to sit in the corner until I say otherwise." Upon reaching the house, Jim snagged a chair from the table and dragged it, along with the reluctant boy, to the far corner of the cabin. Jim pushed Blair down in the chair. "I'm very disappointed that you disobeyed me, Blair. I could have lost you," Jim admonished quietly before leaving the boy alone to ponder his misdeeds.

Blair didn't watch Jim leave the one room cabin. He sat with his arms tightly folded across his chest, his heels banging the legs of the chair. His eyes stung with unshed tears. He wouldn't cry. He didn't cry when his mother...left. He wouldn't blubber because Jim spanked him. Blair squirmed on the hard chair and unwrapped his arms for a few minutes to rub his stinging backside. He'd never been spanked, although several of his mother's male friends had threatened to. He and his mother usually moved on shortly after that. Blair never cared about any of them anyway so he always looked forward to moving.

He'd never seen Jim so upset before, not even when he swore like a sailor just to get Jim's goat a few days before. I don't care what Jim thinks either, goldurnit! Blair told himself, making sure he didn't cuss out loud. It was all that stupid nag's fault. If the dad blamed horse hadn't bucked, I wouldn't be sitting here. It's not fair! And, I'm not sorry. I'm not. It's not my fault. Jim should've let me help. Blair sniffled back the tears that threatened to fall. Crying was for little children, he was a big boy now. He continued to pound the chair with his feet, wondering when Jim would come back to release him from this unjust confinement.

Jim returned after he'd finished with the horses for the day. He hadn't meant to leave the boy in the corner so long, but thought it couldn't hurt either. At least the little imp would be safe. Jim wondered what kind of chance Blair had in this harsh environment without a quick attitude adjustment. From the little the rancher could get from Blair about his background, the boy had spent most of his young life in various cities. The rural life was a big adventure to the city boy.

Lingering smells of beef stew and burned wood mixed with those of sweat and horses when Jim entered his snug home. He hung his duster on the peg by the door before walking over to the pouting boy. Jim leaned against the fireplace next to Blair's corner, arms across his chest, mimicking the boy's posture.

"Had enough time to reconsider your actions?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are you going to obey my instruction from now on?"

"Yes, sir."

"Go finish your chores then you can play until supper's ready." Jim watched the boy scoot off the chair, retrieve the kindling bucket from the hearth and head outside. The rancher shook his head, what a pistol he had on his hands.

"...breaking the lashing of the spars. A fearful shock followed. Without power to protect myself in anyway, I was thrown high over the rail of the ship and fell into the sea." Finishing the chapter, Jim marked his spot and set the book aside to tuck the quilts tightly around Blair's shoulders. "Good night, Blair. Sweet dreams," he said before leaving the bed to sit in the rocking chair by the fire.

Blair snuggled down in the covers and smugly congratulated himself for getting through the day without apologizing to Jim for going into the corral. He gloated in his victory all of thirty seconds when it sank in that Jim didn't kiss him good night. He got his story, was tucked in and told sweet dreams, but no kiss to his forehead. All sleepiness evaporated as Blair laid wide-eyed trying to figure out what it all meant. Jim had forgiven him at supper. Blair kind of liked the fried chicken, although it wasn't like Mama's. He wanted his goodnight kiss. Blair thought about what Jim had said after pulling him out of the corral and when the rancher put him in the corner. Jim had seemed truly very worried...and disappointed. The boy felt a hard lump forming in his throat and belly at the thought of Jim getting rid of him. He wanted his kiss. Tears stood in his eyes as he climbed out of bed, and slowly made his way across the cold wood floor to Jim's side.

Jim had just willed his mind to let go of the days stresses when he felt a presence by his side.

"Blair, are you feeling all right?" Jim asked, noting the forlorned expression as he checked the boy's forehead.

"Got a belly ache?"

The boy shook his head.

"Then what's wrong, child?"

Jim strained to hear the whispered response. "You didn't kiss me goodnight."

Stunned that the boy would even care, although he didn't remember leaving that out of their ritual, he asked, "what do you want, Blair?"

"I...want...my...Mama," Blair choked out before dissolving into tears.

Jim plucked the desolate child up and settled the boy into his lap, wrapping his strong arms around the trembling body in a protective embrace. Jim didn't shush the grieving child and sent up a silent prayer of thanks that the corner had been turned. The rancher held his charge tightly, rocking gently, prepared to do so for as long as Blair needed him to.

"Don't...leave me,...I won't be bad any more."

"I'll never leave you, little bit, not even when you're naughty."

"Mama...left me."

"No, Blair, she didn't. She died," Jim explained quietly while stroking the boy's hair tenderly. "I didn't know her very well, but I do know she loved you very much. Some times things just happen that we have no control over. She didn't choose to die, it was a terrible accident. My mama died when I was just a couple years older than you. I cried for days. I used to wear her cameo pinned inside my shirt. It made me feel better to think that she was close to me. Maybe there's something of your mama's you'd like to keep close to you."

"She had a locket with our pictures in it she always wore...it's...it's probably with her though."

"No, I collected that before her burial. I'll get it for you before you go back to bed tonight."

"OK...Jim? Are you still sore about today?" The boy asked from the safety of his burrow in Jim's lap.

"No, child. Not anymore. You gave me the scare of my life, though."

"I'm sorry. I won't do that ever again." Blair unburrowed himself far enough to tap his forehead. "Can I have my goodnight kiss now?"

Jim leaned down to deliver a tender kiss on the requested spot. "I'm sorry I forgot, little bit. I wasn't trying to punish you. I've just been a little preoccupied this evening." They sat together in silence for a few more minutes, drawing comfort from each other.

"Can I have another story?"

With a chuckle, Jim replied, "No. It's time we were both in bed."

"Can I have a drink of water?"

Jim tousled the boy's short curls before setting him on his feet. "Sure, little bit. Get back in bed and I'll bring you a cup."

Water given, nose blown, locket found, child retucked in, another kiss and sweet dreams said, Jim prepared for bed. He stripped down to his long underwear and climbed in next to the boy. It surprised the rancher when instead of the usual tight ball sleeping next to him, he felt a little body timidly snuggling closer. He stretched out his left arm to draw the bundle closer. A smile spread across the rancher's face and pride filled his heart when the boy became a dead weight against him, sound asleep at last. The rancher drifted off to sleep himself thinking that maybe raising this little imp wouldn't be such a challenge after all.

***

August 1873

"No. I'm not dirty," Blair shouted at his guardian and petulantly stamped his foot.

"Not dirty, huh?" Jim said as he prodded the boy closer to the prepared bathtub by the fireplace. Blair had been whiny and uncooperative ever since Jim hauled him away from the Captain Nemo hideout he'd fashioned out of mud, sticks and water to come inside for supper. Jim postponed the meal to get Blair completely bathed, deciding he'd be spitting into the wind by attempting to wash just his hands and face. "You could grow potatoes behind those ears, to say nothin' about the rest of you," Jim chided, his patience rapidly fading. "Now get those filthy clothes off >and get into this tub before the water gets cold."

"Aw, Jim," Blair pouted, beginning another whine. He had been enjoying the feel of the mud between his toes and fingers. He tried to stay clean. He'd taken his shoes and socks off and had rolled up both pant legs and shirt sleeves. Yes, mud had splattered on him some when he'd simulated the battle between the Nautilus and the squid. Okay, it got caked on pretty good, but it'd dry and fall off...he could brush it out of his hair, too...

"One." Jim said before the boy could build his argument.

"But, Jim--"

"Two."

"What if I just --"

"Three." On that count, Jim began to undress the stubborn boy.

"All right, I'll do it." Realizing his mistake too late, Blair tried to undress himself only to have his hands swatted away.

"Too late, you had your chance and now I'll do it for you," Jim said calmly as the last piece of mud soaked clothing was removed. He left Blair briefly to take the green lizard he'd found in the boy's pants pocket to freedom. Rescue accomplished, Jim spared a glance at the enormous pout on his charge's face and glared back, recognizing the signs of a tantrum in the making when Blair stamped his foot angrily again.

Jim lifted the sulking boy into the large tin tub, saying with an air of finality, "Keep it up and your backside will be warmer than this water." Blair calmed some, but still squirmed and whined while Jim washed the uncooperative child's hair and body himself.

"There, all done," Jim said tossing the sponge back in the tub. "You can get out now."

Looking aghast at the prospect of leaving the water, Blair wailed, "No, I want to play."

The rancher took a deep breath to center himself. "All right, you can have ten minutes, but then you have to get out." Jim stood, stretching to loosen the kinks in his shoulders, and went back to check on supper. The rancher had agreed to the play time mainly to give himself a chance to wind down. Blair's contrary behavior for most of the day had taken a great deal out of the new "father."

Jim glanced back at the mantle clock and sighed. "All right, Little Bit, time to get out."

"But, I'm not done playing!"

Jim fixed the boy with a stern look. "One."

Blair gulped, he hated it when Jim counted, but still, "just a few more minutes?"

"Two."

Knowing he'd pushed the limits, Blair stood quickly and reached for the offered towel. "All right, I'm getting out."

Wrapped in warm towels, one being moved around his head to dry the soaked curls, Blair muttered softly, "Mama would've let me stay in."

"Maybe so, Little Bit, but I'm here now. Scoot," Jim ordered, firmly patting his ward's towel covered backside, "and get your nightshirt on. After supper you can have cocoa while I read to you...unless your mama didn't do it that way either."

At the mention of the favored chocolate drink, Blair stopped pouting and smiled brightly. "She didn't, but that's OK, Jim. We can do things your way."

Supper over and the dishes done, Blair crawled up into Jim's waiting lap. Jim sat in the big leather armchair by the fireplace, a small blaze hissing and popping in the stone structure. The rancher waited until Blair had settled before taking one of the cocoa mugs from the small table next to the chair and handing it to the eager boy.

"Careful, it's hot. Want me to blow on it?" After a test sip, Blair handed over the cup for cooling. Jim blew over the top a few times and handed it back. Blair cautiously sipped again then snuggled deeper into Jim's chest as the rancher began to read.

"...and drew us down into their formidable machine." Jim closed the book and reached down in time to grab the empty cup when it slipped from the sleeping boy's fingers. He placed it back on the small table before carrying his gently snoring bundle to tuck him in the bed in the far corner of the room. Jim stood by the bed and watched Blair sleep, always amazed that the little hellion could look like such an angel when still. This whole child rearing thing would be a bigger challenge than he'd thought it would be. Jim smiled, watching Blair burrow deeper into the blankets until just a few stray curls showed above the quilts. A challenge he wouldn't miss for the world.

~~~

"Look what I found, Jim!" The rancher startled, halting his ax mid-swing when Blair appeared at his side.

The boy held out a handful of pink, black and white speckled rocks for his guardian's inspection. The beaming smile and dancing blue eyes turned up to him cut off the reprimand Jim had on his lips to scold Blair for being careless around the ax. They had come into the woods so Jim could replenish their dwindling firewood supply. Blair had been sent off to play, with the stipulation he keep within sight of Jim.

"Those are mighty pretty rocks you got there, Little Bit," Jim smiled as he made a point of examining the offered stones. "What are you going to do with them?"

Blair shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know. Maybe make them into pirate treasure or the crown jewels or a secret weapon for Capt'n Nemo. Somethin' like that."

Jim chuckled and tousled the boy's lengthening curls. "Sounds good. Why don't you go see if you can find some more. And, Blair, if you need to talk to me while I'm chopping, remember to stand back and wait until the ax falls to get my attention, understand?"

"Yes, Jim," the boy said brightly, already turning away to scout out more treasures.

Blair tromped through the woods, his head down scanning the ground. He had taken off his hat to use to carry his many new prizes: colorful rocks, smooth stones, several small pinecones and a twig with three limbs forming a pyramid. His hat full, Blair turned to shout in triumph to Jim, only to realize his guardian was nowhere in sight.

"Jim?" he called plaintively. He called out louder, "Jim!"

Blair dropped his hat and ran through the tall trees, shouting for Jim every few feet.

on to part 2. . .