"That means no."

The boy's matter-of-fact statement made the rancher roll over again. "Excuse me?"

"'We'll see', ‘maybe', those are all words grownups use to tell children 'no' when they don't want a fuss made."

To Jim, the tone and body language of the boy bordered on smugness. The attempt to manipulate all too obvious. "That may be true of the other grownups you've been around. When I say 'maybe' or 'we'll see' it means I need to think about it more, maybe a lot more. I'm not going to make a snap decision like this, and you are not going to guilt me into it. Understand?"

The sternness of his guardian's retort was not lost on the boy. Meekly, he replied, "Yes, Jim," before turning away and snuggling back into the covers.

Jim made himself comfortable again, relaxing so sleep would finally take him when out of the quiet a small voice came again. "Jim, you're really going to think about it?"

"What did I just say?" Not hiding the exasperation he felt.

Jim felt Blair turn so his face now pressed into Jim's back and heard a, "Thanks, Jim," mumbled between his shoulder blades. A small burst of warm air hit his back as a small sigh escape the boy's lips whispering, "love you."

Jim shifted to his back, tucking the little body up against his side. "I love you, too, Blair. Now go-to-sleep."

~~~

Jim tamped down the sod around the headstone with the shovel before walking back to the wagon for Blair. The boy's endless chatter had tapered off with every mile closer they came to Naomi's grave site. Blair hadn't spoken a word since they arrived, just quietly sat in the
wagon until Jim finished.

The rancher stowed the shovel in the wagon bed and reached up to lift the boy down. Blair held on to his guardian's neck tightly for a moment before moving to get out of Jim's embrace. They walked to the grave site hand in hand. Blair stood staring at the stone for quite a long while.

It read:

Naomi Sandburg
Beloved Mother of Blair
Rest in Peace
1873

The grip on Jim's hand tightened. "She's really dead isn't she?"

The rancher felt wetness in his own eyes at the grief filled question. "Yes, Blair, she is. I'm sorry."

"She should have flowers. All...all graves gots to have flowers."

"We'll come back in the spring and plant some so they'll always be here. Okay?"

A nod was the only response he got. They stood in silence awhile longer, the only sounds the breeze through the grass, a bird in the distance and occasional insect hum.

Jim roused from his introspection by two squeezes to his hand. He looked down into two sorrow filled blue eyes. "I wanna go home, Jim."

"Sure, Little Bit." Jim turned to leave, leading Blair by the hand when the boy blocked his way, arms outstretched. Without hesitation, he lifted his ward into an embrace, holding him tightly as the boy softly cried. When they reached the wagon, Jim continued to hold the grieving child, swaying slowly, until Blair pulled back with a gigantic sniffle.

"Here, use my handkerchief." Blair did as he was told and handed the used cloth back to Jim who shoved it back in his pocket. With one more quick hug, Jim deposited the boy into the wagon and they headed back to their cabin.

Blair threw another smooth rock into the stream, it helped him think. He'd been ruminating since they had returned from visiting his mother's grave that afternoon. He went to his favorite thinking spot along the creek when they got home, wanting to be alone with his thoughts. Most
of those centered on why did his mother have to be taken from him, and how long would Jim be with him. Picturing an affectionate, opened armed Jim in his head, the boy felt a compelling need to be with his guardian. He left his pile of stones and ran to the cabin.

"Jim? When's supper ready?" he said breathlessly after flinging open the door. Blair frowned at not finding Jim in the cabin. Must be in the barn, he thought turning to head in that direction. As he did so, his eyes lit on the trunk at the bed's end and a memory came forward. A memory of a beautiful delicate woman.

Blair wetted his lips as he eyed the trunk. He peeked outside the cabin to see if the coast was clear and then quickly shut the cabin door. Hurrying over to the trunk, he paused briefly before lifting the latch and throwing back the lid. Blair didn't pay attention to the other items his hands passed over, he had a mission. Moving a blue uniform jacket aside, there she was. Blonde ceramic hair, perfectly coiffed. Dress a pale blue that draped perfectly around her petite figure. Her dark blue eyes, pert nose and red painted lips gave her face a merry air. All that being so, the hands were the thing that held the boy's attention. The right gathered up her skirt slightly, a hint of lacy petticoats showing under the dress. The left was raised delicately as if waiting to rest lightly on her dancing partner's shoulder. Blair ran a hesitant finger over the cold smooth surface of the china dancing woman.

"What in the Sam Hill do you think you're doing?" Blair startled and jumped to his feet at the sharpness of his guardian's voice. Caught in the act, he stood speechless.

Jim crossed the room and glanced at the open trunk before turning a stern eye to his ward. "All you had to do was ask and I would have shown you what's in here." Jim pointed to the trunk. "Next time, get permission first or you'll be standing in the corner for the day. Not that you'd be able to sit too well anyway."

"Yessir," Blair said to the floor, ashamed to look Jim in the face.

Jim's features softened when he looked back into the trunk and spied the Blue Lady. Carefully he cradled it in his hands before setting it on the table. Jim's eyes slid back to Blair who still stared at the floor and he reached under the boy's chin to bring his head up.

"She's the last thing I have of my mother's," Jim began drawing Blair to his side as he squatted by the figurine on the table. He took Blair by the right wrist and gently guided the boy's fingers to the cherished memento. Blair carefully stroked the glazed figurine as his guardian spoke. "Mama kept it on the mantle in her sitting room. Sometimes, she'd bring it down so Steven and I could touch it...with Mama right there, of course. It was forbidden to touch otherwise." Jim fixed Blair with a hard look. "The same way it's going to be for you, young man."

With that, Jim took the delicate figure to the fireplace mantle and set it next to the clock.

"She's sure pretty. The way she's standing and the look on her face, she kinda reminds me of my mama. I'm sorry I didn't ask bermission, Jim," Blair said softly.

Jim held out his arms and Blair went to him gladly. Jim embraced his remorseful ward, bending down to bestow a kiss on the boy's head. "That's 'permission, Little Bit, and I understand. Just don't do it again." Jim released the soothed child, turning him toward the cabin door. With a firm pat to Blair's bottom, Jim ordered, "Now go wash up for supper. We're having fried chicken and an apple brown-betty." The rancher chuckled as the boy dashed to obey.

"If his destiny be strange, it is also sublime. Have I myself not come to understand it? Did I not share ten months of his unnatural life? And to the question asked by Ecclesiastes six thousand years ago, 'That which is far off and exceeding deep, who can find it out?' two men alone of all now living have the right to give an answer -- Captain Nemo and Myself. The end." Jim closed the book and looked down at Blair nestled beside him on the bed. The boy picked at the quilt tucked around his chest.

The rancher moved some strands of wavy curls out of the boy's face. He'd meant to get the boy's hair cut while they were in town, but he'd grown attached to the moppet of soft brown curls. They marked the boy for the imp he was. An imp who, judging from his quiet manner, had a lot on his mind.

"That's the last chapter. What would you like to read next, Blair? Journey To the Center Of the Earth or Tale Of Two Cities?" When the boy didn't respond, just continued to pluck at his covers, Jim pulled him tighter to his side. "What's on your mind, Little Bit?"

"Will you ever die, Jim?"

"Yes. Everyone does eventually, Blair. It's part of life."

"I don't want you to."

"Blair, I'm not planning on dying for a very long time. I give you my word that I will live as long as I possibly can and stay with you for as long as you want. And when we've both passed away, I promise we will be together. Okay?"

"Okay, Jim." Blair yawned. Jim made to leave, but Blair held on to his shirt. "Stay with me, until I fall asleep?"

"Sure, Little Bit."

Blair lay with his head against Jim's side as the rancher began to stroke the boy's head while humming a lullaby his mother used to sing to him. The lyrics were long forgotten, but not the feelings they invoked. Jim reflected on the words he read tonight. Yes, destiny was strange and sublime. Jim listened to the even breathing of the boy next to him and wondered what the future held for both of them.

***
Late September, 1873

Jim kept his ear focused on the singing voice ~~~all around the mulberry bush~~~ as he reeled in his line. The weather, Indian summer, called to both man and boy, so they went fishing. Blair had never fished with a rod and reel, and paid careful attention as Jim taught him how it was done. The delight that captured the boy's face when a fish took his fly made the exercise in patience worth the effort to the rancher. After the fish was landed and put in the basket, Blair's interest wandered. Standing quietly, slowly reeling in line wasn't enough to keep the bundle of energy's attention. Jim gave the bored fisherman permission to explore the area as long as Jim could hear him. ~~~A penny for a spool of thread, another for a needle~~~. Jim smiled collecting their gear, he hadn't heard that song since his youth.

He walked up the trail toward the warbling boisterous voice. ~~~Pop! Goes the weasel!~~~ Jim stopped at the edge of the meadow watching the boy pick dandelions. After picking a downy covered stem, Blair would blow on it watching the breeze take the flying seeds away, or he ran with it watching the fuzz disappear leaving a naked stem, giggling all the while.

"Blair," Jim shouted and motioned for the boy to join him. "Time to go home, Little Bit."

At the calling of his name, the boy's head snapped around, a huge grin on his face. "Jim!!" he gleefully yelled and ran to his guardian, Jim held out his arms to gather up the child. Blair's face beamed with joy at the prize in his hands. "Looky, Jim. I have one left."

Jim supported Blair with one strong arm under the boy's bottom and thighs and carried their gear in the other. Blair swung his legs along the sides of his guardian without a care in the world.

Smiling down at his ward, Jim examined the wilting dandelion held in the grubby fist. "So you do. What are your plans for it?"

"Same as the others, I'm gonna to make a wish."

Jim began to walk them back to the cabin. "What are you wishing for?"

Solemnly Blair replied, "Can't tell or it won't come true."

Jim nodded his head knowingly.

"Do you want to make a wish, Jim?" the innocent face turned up to him, and the sincerity of the question made Jim stop in his tracks.

"Maybe we could make a wish together?" At Blair's enthusiastic nod, Jim set the child on the ground and knelt next to him so they could both blow on the ball of fluff. That done, Jim hoisted Blair to his shoulders, picked up their gear and continued the walk home. Blair began to sing again.

"All around the mulberry bush, the monkey chased the weasel, the monkey thought it was all in fun, Pop!--" At the 'pop', Jim bounced up, causing his surprised passenger to squeal in delight. Jim joined in the song and they sang together the rest of the way home.

"--Goes the weasel!. A penny for a spool of thread, another for a needle, that's the way the money goes. Pop! Goes the weasel!"

They scared game away for miles, and Jim couldn't have cared less.

Continued on in, "What Child Is This?" A revised version has been
posted to clean up some continuity issues.