Blood Brothers Chapter Two

It wasn't long - somewhere between one and two hours - before Starsky could see that they were approaching land. Those hours saw Hutch having fewer and shorter periods of unconsciousness, although he still seemed frightfully weak. Starsky knew that was typical for head injuries, but it didn't keep him from worrying. He'd toyed with taking him to Clancey's filthy cabin anyway, but except for being cool, the weather was pleasant, so he settled with leaving him in his comfortable nest of blankets.

During one of the wakeful periods, Starsky stood to look over the bow, peering forward toward the welcome lights and large buildings of downtown Seattle. But there were no bright lights to be seen, and the horizon showed only the green of trees.

"I gotta talk to the captain," he told Hutch, bending down over him. The eyes seemed to understand, although it was a few seconds before the "okay" could be faintly heard. He tousled the blond hair lightly before pushing himself toward the front of the ship.

"Captain Clancey!" Clancey could hear his name and recognized the voice even before he saw the slim figure. A moment later, Starsky was at his side. "Captain, I think we must be off course or somethin'! We're not approaching any city nearly big enough to be Seattle, Washington."

"Have you taken leave of your senses, man? Of course that's Seattle. I've guided this ship there a thousand times! Including once all the way from New England!"

"Then how do you explain that there aren't any buildings on that land we're headed for?" Starsky's voice held a challenge, but Clancey remained gentle, knowing it was mostly concern for his friend that was spurring him on.

"There are plenty of buildings there. They're just not tall enough to be seen from this far out. Where do you think over three hundred people are living? In tents?" He laughed at his supposed joke, not noticing the distress that came over Starsky's face.

"Three hundred?? There's gotta be over 50,000 residents of Seattle! My God! It couldn't have had that few people since the 1800's!"

"Uhhhhh. Mr. Starsky, I think maybe you'd better go lie down next to where we put your partner. I think you're takin' ill too." Clancey tried to convince him, but from the first word, he knew it would be fruitless. This was one man who wouldn't let himself be coddled if he could help it.

"What makes you think that?! I'm fine, but my friend isn't. And he's gotta get to a hospital soon!"

"I don't think you know how sick you really are," Clancey told him, continuing to study him closely. "Hell, man. You don't even know what year it is! We'll get you both help as soon as we land, though."

Unable to do anything else with the stubborn, if confusing, captain, Starsky went back to tending to Hutch. There really wasn't much he could do except sit by his side, since the blond had fallen asleep once again. It gave him a lot of time to think, and he found his thoughts drifting to Heather and Donna, wondering what their fate was. But why would somebody want to hurt them? Maybe it really was a practical joke. If so, it had been a very risky one, as evidenced by their current situation.

He heard Clancey's heavy footsteps before he actually saw the man, heard his call to ready the gangplank. This man really was like something out of history. Starsky felt the ship vibrate as it nudged the pier, simultaneously trying to take in the calls of excitement announcing that the ship had come in. He didn't recognize any of the voices, although he could identify both women's and men's in the cacophony. What was the big deal about a boat docking in Seattle harbor?

Moments later a slim man with short brown hair barreled up the gangplank, into Starsky's range of vision. He wore neat trousers and a vest; not exactly currently fashion, but it wasn't a big deal for some cities to have trends before others. Starsky bent over his partner as he began to stir, blocking the newcomer's view.

"Ben!" Clancey called, pumping his hand. ""Tis nice t'see ya again!"

"Yeah, I know, Clancey. But why are you back so soon? You only left a day ago!"

"These two fellas were adrift at sea and needed some rescuin'. Would you be so kind as to run up to the Bolt's camp and tell Jason, Joshua, and Jeremy that I need to see 'em right away?" The captain's Irish brogue held a note of urgency, dissuading Ben from asking further questions. He took off at a trot toward a muddy road.

"Captain Clancey! Captain Clancey!" Two small figures - a blond girl and a brown-haired boy - ran up to the plank, stopping at the base of it. "Did you bring us anything?!" the boy asked.

"I'm sorry, m'dears. Not this time. I do need you to do me a favor though, if you'd be so kind."

"Sure," the girl said reasonably. "We'd be happy to."

"Good. Run and fetch Miss Lottie; tell her to come quick."

"Aren't you feeling good?" the boy asked.

"'Well', Christopher. Not 'good'. 'Well'," the girl corrected her brother.

"'Well', 'good', what difference does it make, Molly?"

Clancey figured he'd better interrupt, or the siblings would argue for the next hour. "No, I'm fine, but I've got a couple people on my ship that aren't doing so well. Now get on with you!" The mud flew from under their feet as they raced to the saloon, calling out for Lottie before they had even arrived.

"Take it easy, Hutch," Starsky told his friend as he listened to everything that was going on. "I'm sure this Lottie will be able to help. She must be a doctor or something."

"Um hmmmm," Hutch muttered drowsily. Starsky continued to watch over him for several minutes, until finally he heard a feminine voice.

"Clancey! What's so important that it had to interrupt my afternoon tea with the girls?"

Starsky jumped up to meet the person who was going to help his partner, but as he looked toward the land, he found he could do nothing besides stare. The person who approached was indeed a woman, slightly plump yet lovely, perhaps in her late 40's. What astonished the brunet, though, were her clothes. Her long dress was full at the bottom and cinched tight at the waist, strongly reminiscent of the outfits he'd seen in old western movies. He'd have thought there was a costume party if twenty or so younger women hadn't been standing behind Lottie, dressed similarly. So distracted was he that he didn't even hear the captain tell her their story.

Suddenly, she was in front of him, obviously trying to get around to the man lying prostrate on the deck. "Hello, I'm Lottie Hatfield," she introduced herself.

"Are you a doctor?" Starsky asked, tentatively. Something about the woman was vaguely familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on what exactly it was.

"Heavens, no!" she laughed. "I'm afraid our town doesn't have a doctor right now, but I'd like to help if you'll let me. I've done quite a lot of this kind of thing in my day."

When he didn't move, she motioned past him towards the legs she could see; her view of the rest of her patient was obstructed by Starsky's body. "Please, Mr. . . . .?"

"Starsky. David Starsky," he said, shaking her hand. She looked at him, "tsk"d at his bare, exposed legs, and squeezed past as he stepped aside.

"What happened to your friend?" she asked, bending over Hutch.

"He hit his head during the storm . . . ." Starsky halted his explanation when he heard Lottie gasp. "What's wrong?"

"Your friend!"

"Yeah. He's hurt! Can you help?"

She seemed to calm herself quickly, drawing on years of experience in a less-than friendly frontier. She bent to examine Hutch's injury, talking at the same time. "How long has he been out?"

Starsky hadn't seen Hutch slip off again. "He's been in and out a lot. He was awake not even two minutes ago." Starsky crossed to stand on Hutch's other side.

Lottie talked to the brunet as she continued to check the blond. "Is his name Bolt?" she asked conversationally, hoping that Starsky couldn't hear the hammering of her heart. Who was this man who looked so much like Joshua?

"No, it's Ken Hutchinson. Please, say something. He's my friend!" She looked up into his pleading eyes, and he saw comfort in hers.

"It'll be okay; I think he just needs some time to rest. We'll get him to a nice, comfortable room above my place where I can keep an eye on him." She motioned to a few of Clancey's men, who followed her instructions for moving Hutch. "You look like you could use some sleep yourself, Mr. Starsky. You can have one right next door, so you can be near your friend." The entire entourage moved off the boat, heading for the saloon; Starsky tried to keep eyes on Hutch, but they kept straying to the women who watched them from the sidelines. Most of them were young and attractive, and all of them were dressed in outfits similar to Lottie's.

"Once we get your friend settled," Miss Hatfield said, drawing his attention, "we'll see if we can get you both some decent clothes." He looked down at his shirt and shorts, not understanding fully until he looked to the crowd of women again. Every one of them had averted her eyes from the stranger's state of undress.

What's going on here?? I feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone! It still didn't totally sink in what was going on for another few moments. In their trek to the tavern, his eyes fell on a sign, mounted high on a totem pole in the center of the square. "An Incorporated Township. Seattle." Starsky read aloud.

"You like our sign?" Clancey said, smiling proudly as he walked beside the brunet. "We just got incorporated last year."

"Last year?"

"Sure, man! The year of our Lord, 1874!"

"What?!" Starsky's mind screamed, but he kept it from his lips while Clancey repeated the year to him. 1874???? How can it possibly be a hundred years ago?! Yet there was no denying his senses. These people, these buildings, and this land were real. It would be awhile before he could truly believe it, but for now, he was adaptable enough to at least accept it.

He let the rest of the group guide him through a pair of double doors and up a staircase to a comfortable looking room, his heart pounding as much from the shock as from the exertion of carrying the big blond. They deposited him gently on the bed.

"I'll go get a bowl of water," a tall, copper-haired woman said as she left the room. Starsky remembered seeing her eyes widen as she'd beheld Hutch for the first time; it wasn't too much removed from the reaction he'd gotten from so many others.

The woman they'd called Lottie shooed everybody from the room except Starsky, somehow knowing that he wouldn't have allowed himself to be run out anyway. Once they were alone, he felt more comfortable to talk.

"Miss Hatfield," he began, trying to be polite and to fit in, "why is everybody in this town looking at us like we're from another planet? We're not that different from you."

Lottie looked up from where she'd been examining Hutch. "Well, you do seem out of place, but that's not why people are staring?"

Was she really going to make him ask? Starsky guessed so. "Then why are they staring?"

He sounded afraid, she thought, as though he was unaccustomed to this particular kind of fear. "It's really not anything you need to worry about; you must be exhausted too."

"Miss Hatfield!" Starsky said tensely, obviously exasperated. He felt like he was on an emotional rollercoaster, not knowing from one minute to the next what he'd be feeling.

"Well, first of all, it's not you they're staring at. It's your friend." At just that moment, the stately-looking woman reappeared, carrying a heavy ceramic bowl and pitcher, a pair of towels thrown over her shoulder. "Thank you, Candy," Lottie said as she handed over a moistened towel.

Even now, the woman Lottie had called Candy was staring at his bed-ridden partner. "You were saying?" he asked the barkeep.

"Oh, yes. People are taking an interest in your partner only because he bears a striking resemblance to somebody in town."

"It's more than a resemblance," Candy whispered, not even realizing she'd spoken as she continued to stare. Something inside of her said she was being impolite and unladylike, but she just couldn't help herself.

"I beg your pardon, Miss . . .?" Starsky wanted to know more of what the younger woman thought. She was very beautiful, graceful in a stately kind of way.

"Oh," Lottie interrupted, remembering the social graces. "This is Candy Pruitt; she helps me out sometimes." There was a hesitation, prompting Lottie to turn from Hutch as Candy cleared her throat. "Only in delivering babies and such, mind you. Not in the saloon."

"Thank you," Candy said, smiling at the handsome brunet who had so abruptly come into all of their lives. If she hadn't been engaged.... "And you are?"

"I'm sorry," he said when he realized she'd been waiting for a bit. "I'm David Starsky, and my friend is Ken Hutchinson."

"You've come a long way, Mr. Starsky." This was a part of the healing process that Candy was particularly good at: distracting friends and family while Lottie attended to her work.

"Longer than even I know, I think."

That puzzled the young Miss Pruitt, but she had the courtesy not to be nosy and ask what he'd meant by it. She could see the concern in the dark blue eyes that David held for his friend. "Are you and Mr. Hutchinson related?" she asked.

"No, but sometimes he seems more like my brother than my real brother. We've been friends for a very long time." He surprised himself by talking so easily with the people here; but their simple natures seemed to put him at ease. There was nothing threatening or malicious, no indications of greed or hunger for power.

Before she could say anything more, the door crashed in, a large, barrel of a man leading the way with purposeful strides. On one side of the wavy-haired stranger (and who wasn't a stranger here!) was Ben Perkins, who couldn't seem to get a word in edgewise. On the other was a smaller, slender young man. His hair was the same color as the older newcomer, dark brown, only it fell in straight, longer-than-most tresses across his forehead.

Starsky jumped up to block Hutch, protecting him from this unforeseen threat. Perhaps his judgment that there was no danger here had been premature.

Lottie continued to care for the patient, seeing that he was finally showing signs of coming to again. Candy, meanwhile, stepped between the two men. They were cut from the same cloth, she saw right away. Aggressive yet gentle, concerned yet caring. She left Starsky where he was, stepping in front of him to face down Jason Bolt.

"Where's Joshua?" She asked. The younger man's confusion showed on his face as he looked at the woman.

"He had the crew on the other side of the ridge. Jason sent somebody to get him. Candy, I don't understand. What's all this got to do with Josh?" Starsky, looking over Candy's shoulder, could tell by the look in the younger man's eyes that he and the woman were more than just casual acquaintances. Only couples in love looked at each other that way.

For some unknown reason, Starsky trusted this woman. "This," she began, stepping aside, "is David Starsky. Mr. Starsky, this is Jason and Jeremy Bolt."

"Nice to meet you," Jason mumbled, shaking Starsky's proffered hand with a leather gloved one, Jeremy responding in kind. "We've got a lot of work to do, Candy. Would you please get to the point?"

Starsky's mind raced, trying to recognize the name. "Bol.... Oh! That's the name Miss Hatfield used. When the boat first docked, she asked if Hutch's name was Bolt." There was a niggle in the back of Starsky's mind, telling him that these two were familiar, not just their name, but from where, he didn't know. Maybe it would come to him later.

The confusion on both of the Bolt's faces was clear. "I think it'll be easier to just show you," Candy said, gently guiding Starsky out of their line of sight. The man they saw on the bed was just awakening, blinking rapidly as he tried to orient himself. Lottie held a cloth to the side of his head where the blond hair was discolored with blood. But the most amazing thing was that face.

"Jason..." Jeremy said, sounding very young. "He looks...he looks just like..."

The patient's eyes fell on his friend, and he seemed to relax a little. "Starsk," he whispered. "What's going on?"

"It's okay, buddy," Starsky said, turning to Lottie. "How is he? Is he gonna be okay?"

"A little rest and he'll be fine. He seems to be over the worst of it. I'd say he'll be up and around tomorrow or the next day. Until then," she said, with an air of somebody excusing herself, "let him sleep as much as he wants. I'll go get the key to the room next door." She looked even closer at the patient and his friend. "I'll talk to Ben and see if he's got any clothes you can use in that store of his. You certainly can't go traipsing about Seattle in clothes like that!"

At her comment, Hutch looked at her even closer, then turned startled eyes to his partner. Starsky nodded nearly imperceptibly, and Hutch got the message that they'd talk about it later, once they were alone.

"If he doesn't," Jeremy asked, joking, "we can always lend him something of Josh's!" He smiled, trying to lighten the mood. It seemed to work slightly.

"Why don't we let them get settled in," Lottie suggested, herding the crowd from the room in a motherly fashion. Starsky noticed that Candy and Jeremy left arm-in-arm; his instincts had been right on. Their whispers followed behind them, everybody voicing their opinions simultaneously.

Lottie, the last out, shut the door gently; finally they were alone. Starsky continued to watch the closed door.

"Starsk, what's happenin'?" Hutch slurred, trying to focus. His voice spun Starsky around, the brunet redirecting his attention.

"I wish I knew." He came back and sat on the bed next to Hutch's prone form. "How do you feel?"

"My head is killing me, and I feel like I couldn't out-box my mother. What happened to me?"

"Do you remember the boat and the storm?"

"I remember trying to lower the sails, but that's it. Did I get them down?"

"I'm afraid not," Starsky cringed. "You got hit on the head with what Captain Clancey called the boom." It worried Starsky that he had to explain all this to Hutch when he'd already done it once on board ship.

"Who is Captain Clancey?" Hutch looked confused, but at least he seemed more alert than he had since the accident.

"He's the ship captain who picked us up. We were adrift; nothin' was workin'." He hoped Hutch wouldn't ask exactly where they were; he didn't think he could explain it to himself, let alone his partner. "What say we get you undressed and in bed so you can get a good night's sleep. It's the only way you're gonna get better."

Hutch started to object, but even lifting his head from the pillow drove lances through his skull, so he sunk back again. "Okay, okay. You don't have to be so nasty about it," he muttered.

"I wasn't being nasty!" Starsky admonished, surprised that his partner had misunderstood.

"I know you weren't. But the pain in my head sure was." Starsky figured Hutch must be starting to feel better if he was making jokes, feeble as they may be.

"C'mon, let's get going, blintz." Hutch stayed on the bed, working buttons and zippers, while Starsky did the harder work. Once he was down to his underwear, Starsky pulled the blankets out from under his partner, replacing them over the reclining figure. As he straightened them over Hutch's waistline, he noticed the goosebumps on the tanned flesh of his arms. "Are you cold?"

"Well, I wasn't until you took my clothes," Hutch said without opening his eyes. "But, yeah, I am now." Starsky responded by pulling the covers up even further, covering the bare shoulders. Hutch shifted a little, nestling under them even further, and seemed he would go back to sleep until there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Starsky said gently, wondering which of this town's colorful citizens was visiting this time.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," a soft, but familiar, voice said as the door was cracked open, "but my brothers insisted I come up to meet you. Wouldn't tell me why, though." With these last words, he came fully into the room; Starsky finally understood what a good deal of the commotion was. And he understood something else as well.

The young man standing in front of him was tall, about 6'1", slim with fair hair and a pair of striking sky-blue eyes. But most of all, Starsky noticed the cleft between the young man's brows, so familiar. This was the man whose picture Hutch had showed him all those months ago in his ancient family album! It suddenly came together with the name he'd been trying to remember. He was momentarily frozen, watching mesmerized as the visitor's eyes went from his own to the bed, staring down at the injured man.

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