"Blair! Stand still. I'm coming," the rancher yelled, hoping he wasn't too far away.

"Jim! Jim, where are you?" Jim could hear the sob in Blair's voice now and he increased his speed.

"Blair. Stop." Jim shouted at the top of his lungs.

His efforts were rewarded with a closer, "Jim? I can't see you!"

Jim slowed his pace to catch his breath and kept talking to the unseen child to keep him calm. "Stay put, Little Bit. I'm almost there...Do you see me yet?"

"No," came the whimpered response.

"Turn around."

Blair did as told, rewarded with the sight of his guardian barely visible through the trees. He ran.

"Jim!" The frightened boy shouted in joy before leaping into Jim's outstretched arms.

"Shhh, you're all right. It's OK. I'm here," Jim soothed as he carried the shaken boy back to the wagon.

"Where'd you go? I couldn't find you!" Blair sobbed into Jim's shoulder.

Jim looked incredulously down at the child clinging to him and laughed out loud. "Where did I go? Listen, imp, you were the one who wandered away."

Blair's grip tightened around Jim's neck and the rancher had to strain to hear the small voice. "I couldn't find you."

Jim gave him a little squeeze back. "Got scared, did you?" He received a silent nod against his shoulder in response.

Stopping to sit on a fallen log, Jim stood Blair in front of him and kept his expression serious to convey the importance of what he wanted to say.

Blair sucked on his lower lip and put both his hands over his backside. "I'm sorry. Don't spank me."

Jim held the contrite boy by his shoulders and gave him a little shake. "I'm not going to. I think you've already learned your lesson pretty well. Am I right?"

"Yes, sir," Blair sniffled, "never wander away."

"That's right," Jim praised as he cupped the boy's cheek. "But sometimes we might get separated anyway. When that happens it's very important for you to stay put so I can find you. Understand?"

"Yes, Jim."

"Good. Tell me what you do if we get separated."

"Stay put."

"Good boy. It helps to make some noise, too. I will find you though, no matter what." Jim patted Blair's nose with his index finger while saying, "you can bet your last dollar on that."

No sooner had the rancher finished his lecture than his arms were filled with Blair again. "I promise. I'll stay put, Jim."

The rancher lifted the clinging child held tightly in his arms and continued the walk back to the wagon. They made a brief stop to retrieve Blair's hat and headed home.

***

"Blair, it's your move," Jim talked over the little boy's chatter.

The boy absently moved a checker and continued to ramble about his theory of why the moon couldn't possibly be made of green cheese. Jim moved his piece and waited a few moments before prompting Blair again.

"Boy, you'd better pay attention to the game. It's your move again."

"Oh, sorry, Jim. Why do the stars twinkle and the moon doesn't?" he asked while quickly moving another of his pieces then proceeded to answer question with his own theory.

Jim shook his head and thought it time to teach the boy a lesson in attention. The rancher picked up one of his checkers, jumped one of Blair's and announced, "Crown me," before smugly sitting back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest. That move should bring the boy's head into the game, thought the rancher.

Without stopping his monologue, Blair added another checker to the top of Jim's and moved another of his own pieces. The smile on Jim's face transformed into a look of stunned surprise as Blair jumped checker after checker of Jim's. Four in all, only stopping when he reached Jim's side of the board. "Crown me!" the child crowed in triumph, breaking into a giggle fit.

Jim knew when he'd been beat. He crowned Blair's piece before gently patting the boy's cheek. "Remind me never to play poker with you."

***

late August, 1873

Jim's brow dripped with sweat and his muscles ached from hours of shoeing horses. The task had been made longer by regularly being interrupted with questions from a certain very inquisitive boy. Dang, that child is bright, thought the rancher, reflecting on some of the
things he'd been asked. Why don't horses have utters like cows? Why do chickens lay eggs instead of having babies like cats and dogs? Why are rainbows always the same colors? Is there really a pot of gold at the end? How do bees make honey? And on and on. Jim's head swam with questions he didn't have the answers to. Once again he felt the need to move closer to town so Blair could attend school...and pester his teacher with these questions! But, the rancher had no plans to move from the peaceful valley surrounded by majestic mountains that he had settled six years ago. This was his home and now the boy's. Some day it would all be Blair's.

It had been almost four weeks since he found Blair. He couldn't remember having a void in his life until the little whirlwind rushed in to fill it. Jim did remember how sullen and quiet Blair had been at first, and guiltily wished for some of that quiet back. The child talked, laughed, sang and thought out loud almost continually. Mostly, Jim enjoyed listening to how Blair's mind worked and being around the happy child that emerged from under the wall of grief his mother's death had erected. Unfortunately, times like today when Jim had much work to do left little time to pay attention to his ward, let along answer mind boggling questions.

Jim bit back a curse as the nail he drove into the horse's hoof bent. He yanked it out and began pounding in a new one when he was distracted by a familiar voice.

"Jim, how do fish breathe under water?"

The hammer slipped and Jim winced in pain as it caught the inside of his thumb.

"Tarnation, boy, how should I know?! Do I look like an encyclopedia!" As soon as the angry words were out, Jim regretted them.

Jim felt two inches tall, watching Blair's eyes fill with tears and seeing his bottom lip begin to quiver. That feeling only intensified when the boy bolted and fled for the cabin. He finished driving the nail in and put the horse back in the corral before following Blair to the house.

Jim entered the small cabin and quickly crossed the length to the weeping boy lying in a tight ball on the bed. The rancher gently lifted Blair into his lap and began to rock slowly, stroking the boy's moppet of curls as he did so.

"I'm sorry, Little Bit. I shouldn't have yelled like that. You caught me at a bad time."

"I just asked a question," Blair managed to get out between sobs.

"I know, but I was working. You need to learn to wait until I'm finished before asking me things." Jim kissed the top of the boy's head to soften the delivery of the reprimand.

Blair looked up from his sanctuary to peer at his guardian skeptically. "But if I wait, I might forget what I wanted to say."

"I have an idea. Wait here," Jim said as he went to the trunk at the foot of the bed and opened it. Curious, Blair wiped his face on his sleeve and crawled down to the foot of the bed to peer over the trunk lid trying to see what Jim was up to. His big blue eyes tried to take in everything he saw: medals, a uniform jacket, pocket watch, a beautiful figurine of a dancing woman. It was the last that held the boy's interest. He began to reach out to touch it when Jim closed the lid.

"Here," his guardian said, handing Blair a small bound book. "It's a journal I bought thinking I'd keep a record of my experiences when I came out west. Never seemed to have time for writing. You can write down your questions in there so you won't forget them and we can talk about them later when there's time."

Blair graced his benefactor with a bright smile. "Thank you, Jim." The boy hugged the book to his chest.

"This might be a good time to talk about something else we need to add to your list of responsibilities."

"Aww, Jim," the boy complained, setting the book down before ticking off his burdens on his fingers as he listed them. "I already gots to feed the chickens, collect the eggs, sweep the floor and the porch, set the table, dry the dishes, and keep the kindling bin full." He threw his arms wide. "I hardly have time for fun!"

Jim fixed the whining boy with a firm stare. "This is more important, boy. You need to keep up with your schooling. Now school begins in a few weeks and we're too far out for you to go. I'm not much of a teacher, so I was thinking we would go into town--"

"We're going to town?!"

"Yes, child, now stop interrupting. I want to have the school teacher see what level of work you're at and help me plan out some lessons so you keep up," Jim said, watching Blair bounce around the room chanting, "Town, town, we're going to town." Jim shook his head and smiled at his ward's antics. The boy hadn't heard a word he'd said.

"Town, town, we're going to town!"

Jim chuckled and grabbed Blair around the waist as the boy's dance brought him within reach of his guardian. In one fluid movement, Jim tossed the shrieking, giggling child into the air before catching him while saying, "Yes, Little Bit, we're going to town!"

~~

"Jim?...Jim? Are you up? You up, Jim?...Jim, you awake?" Jim slowly opened the one eye that wasn't mashed into his pillow to peer at the much too awake boy bouncing in front of him on the bed.

Seeing Jim's eye open only increased Blair's jumping up and down, and added a huge smile to his face. "You're up! Come on, Jim, let's go to town."

Jim squinted at the mantle clock then turned up the lamp next to the bed to take a better look. He groaned. "Child, it's only four o'clock in the morning."

"Uh, huh. Come on, let's go!" Blair exclaimed as he pulled on his guardian's arm in an attempt to get the rancher moving.

Jim chuckled at the role reversal. "Boy, I haven't even had my coffee yet."

Blair jumped off the bed and ran to the stove. "I'll make it, Jim, while you get dressed."

That got the groggy rancher's blood going. Blair'd never operated the stove.

He threw back the covers to meet the morning chill. "No, Blair, I'll do it."

"I can do it, Jim. I've watched you plenty of times."

Jim contemplated the request. "OK, imp, show me." And Blair did. Jim watched him make up the stove correctly and add the right amount of Arbuckles coffee to the pot. By the time Jim finished dressing and shaving, Blair proudly served his guardian his first cup of coffee. After hesitating only a moment, Jim took a sip.

"Ummm, that is a fine cup of coffee, Little Bit," he said while tousling Blair's curls. "I think we've just added another item to your list." Instead of a groan, the announcement produced a bright smile from the boy.

After a very quick breakfast of eggs and cold biscuits, Jim hitched up the wagon team and saddled Sentry with "help" from Blair and they were off. An hour of the rocking motion of the wagon and Blair's eyelids drooped heavily. When Blair lay slumped limply against the rancher, Jim
eased the boy down so he lay on the wagon seat with his head resting on Jim's lap. His guardian took the wagon blanket off the back of the seat to cover the sleeping boy. Blair didn't wake until the town of Cascade came into view.

"We're here, Little Bit."

Blair sat up, stretched, and rubbed his eyes. Looking around, surveying the hamlet below with a critical eye, he said, "Cheyenne's bigger."

~~

After leaving the horses and wagon at the livery stable, Jim took Blair to the mason's to help select a marker for his mother's grave. Jim was proud of the way Blair handled that task. After finishing their business there, Jim walked Blair towards the sheriff's office, wanting to get the rest of the unpleasant aspects of their visit out of the way. Seeing a boy playing with a top in front of the jail, Blair ran ahead.

"Hi, my name's Blair, can I play, too?" he asked the young Negro boy who seemed to be about his age, judging from his height.

"I'm Darryl. I'm five, had my birffday last Friday. You new around here?" At Blair's nod Darryl replied, "thought so. I gots some marbles, want to play?" When Blair nodded enthusiastically, Darryl took a pouch from his back pocket and the two boys got down to some serious play.

Jim reached the jail's porch just as the two boys were drawing a circle for the marbles. He smiled on them affectionately when Sheriff Simon Banks came out of the office to see what his son was up to.

"Jim Ellison, it's good to see you! I could use your help." Simon Banks exclaimed, clapping Jim's hand warmly.

"Simon, it's been awhile. My condolences about Joan and the baby."

"Thank you, Jim. It's been a rough five months, but Darryl and I are getting on. It helps to have the Widow Cross look after us. Miss Rhonda's housekeeping and cooking keep me and the boy from becoming rough around the edges."

"I know what you mean. Raising a boy alone is no easy task." When Simon looked at him confused, Jim pointed to Blair playing with Darryl. "That's Blair Sandburg. His mother was killed in a wagon accident little over a month ago. Before she died she left the boy in my
keeping."

Simon whistled lowly. "Jim, we need to find out if the boy has kin who will take him."

A giant weight felt like it'd been dropped on Jim's heart. He said, stiffly, "I know that Simon. Blair says he has no kin and I couldn't find any records of any in the wagon. All I found are a few letters from an address in New Jersey."

"We'll need to contact them. I'll talk to Judge Pendergrast if you don't want to."

"No. That's fine Simon, I'll do it myself. You said you needed my help?"

"Yes, the Kincaid Gang is raiding again. I'm getting a posse together to hunt them down. I could really use your tracking skills on this one, Jim. Kincaid's a slippery cuss."

"That's the gang that murdered the Johnsons isn't it?"

Simon nodded gravely.

"I'm in."

"We leave at first light tomorrow. Your boy can stay with Darryl at our place while we're gone. Miss Rhonda will look after them."

"Thank you, Simon. I'm much obliged."

Jim pried a reluctant Blair from the marble game and headed across the dusty street to see Judge John Pendergrast. The rancher sat Blair down on a bench outside the Judge's office with firm orders to wait there until his business inside was finished. After announcing himself to the
Judge's secretary, she led him into the well furnished office.

"Hello, Jack. You're looking well," Jim said, extending his hand to his old friend.

Taking the offered hand and shaking it heartily, the Judge got right down to business. "Jim, what do I owe this pleasure? Surely not to talk about old times in the cavalry."

"No, those are some memories I'd just as soon forget. I need your help."

Judge Pendergrast eyebrows arched and he smiled. "How can I help you, slick?"

Jim briefed his old comrade-in-arms about finding Blair and his promise to Naomi.

"I know you have to search, Jack, but I've grown close to the boy over the weeks, and he's grown close to me. His mother left him in my care. I have an obligation."

"Raising a child's a big responsibility, Jim, more so alone."

"I'm well aware of that. These past weeks have been very...insightful." Both men grinned knowingly before Jim's expression became serious again. "I want him. He's a handful, but has a good heart. And smart, Jack, this boy's brighter than a new penny. I know we've had our differences in the past, but I need your help, Jack."

The judge sat back in his padded chair, looking Jim up and down. A wistful smile played across his features. "We've also had some real good times. I'll draw up papers that make you his temporary legal guardian until we can confirm the absence of family. After that I can make it permanent."

The judge witnessed an event he'd never seen before, a huge smile graced Jim Ellison's face, one of pure joy. "Thank you, Jack." The words croaked out as they shook hands again. Judge Pendergrast watched his old friend leave and wondered just how special this little boy must be
to have changed the hardened ex-soldier so much. He looked forward to meeting this Blair Sandburg.

Jim tipped his hat to Jack's secretary as he passed out of the office to the walk. He automatically reached for Blair gabbing only air instead. Cursing under his breath, the same words he'd washed his ward's mouth out for using awhile back, Jim wondered where the imp had gone when some boys came tearing around the corner. On a hunch, he headed in the direction they came from.

Blair swung his legs while sitting on the bench Jim'd parked him on until a group of five boys came running down the street throwing a ball between them. Blair followed them around the corner. When one threw the ball over the head of another, Blair reached out to catch it before
it hit the glass plate window behind him.

"Who are you?" the big husky freckled boy asked taking back the ball.

"I'm Blair," hesitating only for a moment before adding, "Jim Ellison's son."

"You are not. Old man Ellison's too mean to have children."

When the other boys laughed, 'freckle-face' continued. "Yeah, I hear he eats them for supper and makes flour from their bones."

"He does not! And he isn't mean! You're a liar." Blair's face reddened with outrage.

"It is too, true and you're the liar!"

"Am not."

"Are so. Old man Ellison's the meanest man alive."

Blair punched the impugner of Jim's honor in the nose.

The bully felt and then saw blood coming from his nose before he let out a lusty howl, covering his injury with his hands. When the boys heard at gruff, "What the Sam Hill is going on here!", they fled up the street, leaving a stunned Blair standing where he stood, hand still clenched in a fist. The injured boy glared at Blair triumphantly before turning to the angry man approaching them.

"Pa! He hit me, for no reason," he wailed before crying crocodile tears.

The merchant, already upset at being taken away from his shop, roughly inspected the damage to his son. Releasing his boy's head, he turned a cold eye to Blair.

"You do this, boy?"

"Well, yes, sir, but--" Blair's words left him when suddenly the angry father reached out and grabbed him by the arm. Blair's eyes widened in fear and then closed shut as the man raise his other hand high preparing to strike. Blair tensed for the blow before relief swept over him at
the sound of a familiar voice.

"Let him go."

Blair opened his eyes to see Jim holding the merchant's arm in place. The angry father released Blair and the boy wasted no time running to safety behind his guardian.

"What's going on here," Jim asked in that same cold voice that got Blair's attention.

"This your boy, Ellison?" the merchant trying and failing to meet Jim's cold gaze.

"Yes, what's the problem?"

The merchant puffed himself up before responding, "He gave my Tommy a bloody nose. Hit him for no reason."

"Did you punch him, Blair?" Jim's piercing eyes never leaving the merchant.

Blair took a breath before answering softly. "He was saying mean lies."

"Did you throw the first punch, boy?"

Recognizing the no nonsense tone, Blair quavered, "yes, sir."

"Apologize." Jim's voice like steel.

"But --"

"Do it." The voice steelier yet.

Blair glared at the smug Tommy. "I'm sorry I gave you a bloody nose." I should have given you a black eye to match, he thought to himself.

"I'm sorry for your troubles, Mr. Wilson. I'll take care of it," Jim said as he took Blair by the arm in preparation to leave.

"See that you do, Ellison. We don't need any bullies in this town." Arrogance and self satisfaction dripped from the man, until Jim glared into his face erasing his smug posture instantly.

Jim hustled Blair from the scene, stopping a few blocks away at an alley entrance. The angry rancher sat Blair up on a barrel.

"What happened back there? And I want the truth and I want it quick."

"I'm sorry, Jim." Blair couldn't look his guardian in the face and kept his gaze to the ground. "I didn't mean to cause trouble."

Jim exhaled loudly and pulled the boy's face up with his index finger. "I didn't ask for your apologies, I want answers. Now."

Remembering the smug look on Tommy's face, Blair animatedly reported the facts. "Well, he said you were mean and ate children. He said you were the meanest man alive. That's not true!"

"So you hit him?"

"Yes, sir. He's a liar."

"Did you say anything to provoke him in 'slandering' me?"

"Well...not really," Blair said, softly, looking anywhere, but at his guardian.

The rancher took the boy's chin in his hand, and waited until two big, misery-filled, blue eyes looked at him. "Blair, what did you say?"

"I'm sorry, Jim."

Jim braced his hands on the side of the barrel and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before speaking. "Boy, you've already lost your dessert for the day and you'll be turning in an hour early tonight. Keep this evasion up and you'll be eating your supper standing as well. I'm not going to ask again, what did you say?"

His eyes back on the dirt and his voice very small, Blair confessed. "I told him I was your son and he said I was lying." He raised his head and his voice. "But, it's almost true! Mama gave me to you." The plea in his face was almost more than the rancher could stand. "You could be my papa...if you wanted to."

"It's a lot more complicated than that, Little Bit," Jim began more tender than before, resisting the urge to cup the boy's face. "But, let's get back to the matter at hand. It was wrong for you to hit that boy. He was just goading you and you fell right into it. Because you threw the first punch, you're the one in trouble, not him. The things he said, don't bother me. They're just words uttered by a mean spirited bully. They mean nothing. A man doesn't let someone else prod them into rash acts. A man keeps his temper in check and only resorts to violence when he has to. I want you to grow up to be such a man. No boy of mine is going to grow up to be a hot head. Do you understand, Blair?"

"Yes, sir. I'm real sorry, Jim."

"It's always better in the long run to tell the truth, although sometimes it's not easier." Jim took some of the sting out of the scolding by holding his hand to the side of the boy's face. "There's no shame in telling people you're my ward. I'm proud to call you that...and I'd be proud to call you my son, too. Any man would."

Blair just nodded his head, the lump in his throat making him unable to speak.

Jim lifted his contrite charge off the barrel and they continue walking down the street. The rancher felt a small hand hesitantly take his. Jim held the offered hand firmly. Jim remembered what the boy had told him about how his mother and he would exchange symbolic hugs and kisses by squeezing held hands. Jim applied this knowledge twice to the hand in his embrace, pleased when his gesture was acknowledged when Blair squeezed it back.

on to part 3. . .