As The Twig Is Bent

by vlnelson55

Written shortly after Cameron Mitchell's death, this story is about the relationship and deep love between Uncle Buck and his nephew, Blue Boy.

AS THE TWIG IS BENT by Vicki L. Nelson

The train lumbered into Tucson station at around one o'clock in the afternoon and an assorted group of passengers tumbled out. As the people scurried to-and-fro, a young man sat astride a golden palomino and observed them from a respectful distance. Lost in thought, he tried to imagine where they had come from and where they were heading.

By rights, Blue Cannon should have been on his way back to the High Chaparral ranch, but the mournful sound of the train whistle drew him to the station like a magnet. Ever since his boyhood, he had been fascinated by the huge, powerful locomotives. Blue could remember being both scared to death and entranced by them as a child. The sound of the train whistle always sent a longing through him, though Blue could not give voice to just what it was he longed for. He'd never had the opportunity to travel on a train, but someday he vowed to, perhaps to somewhere far away like San Francisco or St. Louis. Whenever Blue had the chance, he liked to unobtrusively watch the passengers climb on and off the trains and make up stories in his head about their final destinations. Of course, he never told anyone of the guessing game he played in his head as it would only add to his reputation of being a bit of a dreamer.

As Blue sat watching the milling throng, he slowly became aware of someone standing at Soapy's side, staring up at him. Blue turned to observe a dark-haired young man regarding him with a quizzical, expectant look on his face. Blue frowned at the stranger; he hated being stared at. "Somethin' I can help you with, Mister?" The young man peered back at him a moment longer, then broke into a broad grin. "Danged if it ain't you! Who'd think I'd run into you out in the middle of nowhere, after all these years?!" Blue looked a trifle annoyed. "I don't exactly consider Tucson to be the middle of nowhere and I think you got me mixed up with someone else."

"Oh, no," the young man smiled. "You just gotta be Billy Blue Cannon. I'd recognize them blue eyes and that goofy look on your face anywheres!" Blue regarded him with surprise and leaned in for a closer look. "I'm Blue Cannon, but I don't think...wait!" Recognition dawned in his pale eyes. "Ethan? Ethan Trent?"

"One and the same!" crowed the young man. Blue was off of Soapy in a flash and the two boyhood friends threw their arms around one another and gave each other hearty slaps on the back.

"I can't believe it's you...What're you doin' here?...Why it's been ages...Ever since Missouri...Are you gonna stay?" exclaimed Blue.

"Whoa, boy!" laughed Ethan, throwing his hands up in the air in mock surrender. "Still the same ol' Billy Blue, askin' a million-and-one questions! I'll tell ya everythin' in good time. First off, is there a saloon nearby? I'm parched!"

"There's the Red Dog," replied Blue. "It ain't far from here."

"Well, come on then," said Ethan, throwing a friendly arm around his companion's shoulder. "Let's go; we got a lot of catchin' up to do!"

Once inside the saloon, Blue and Ethan took a table. Blue looked at Ethan, questioningly, while Ethan took a long swallow of beer. Setting the mug down and wiping his mouth on his sleeve, Ethan took one look at Blue and burst out laughing. "You're 'bout to bust, ain't ya? Okay, okay! I ain't stayin', I'm only passin' through on my way to Tombstone. I'm leavin' as soon as I get my supplies together. I figger to be here 'bout a week."

"Tombstone?" asked Blue. "Why Tombstone?

"Ain't ya heard 'bout all the silver bein' mined down there?" replied Ethan.

"Sure, I heard about it. So what?" asked Blue.

"I'm gonna go over there and strike it rich!" exclaimed Ethan. "I got me an itchy foot, bein' stuck in Missouri, and I wanna have some adventures while I'm still young enough to enjoy 'em. Heck, I ain't never gonna get rich farmin'...Say, Blue, what the heck are you doin' here in Tucson, anyway. Last I knew, you was in Kansas."

"Naw," answered Blue. "We left Kansas near a year ago. We got a spread south of here called the High Chaparral."

"No kidding? Whose 'we?' Your pa and you?" inquired Ethan.

"Well, yeah," said Blue. "My pa and me and my Uncle Buck; you remember him, don't you? And Victoria and her brother, Manolito..."

Ethan interrupted. "Who's Victoria?" he asked, regarding Blue with curiosity.

"Oh, that's right. You wouldn't know." said Blue, glumly. "Victoria's married to my pa now. Ma's dead; she was killed shortly after we moved here."

"Gosh, I'm sorry," said Ethan, sympathetically. "I always liked your ma."

"Yeah, well..." said Blue, looking away. Ethan, sensing Blue's reluctance to elaborate, continued on.

"Hey, Blue! I got an idea! Why don't you join me? Wouldn't you like some adventure, too?"

"You mean go with you to Tombstone?" asked Blue, incredulously. "Naw, I couldn't."

"Why couldn't you?" persisted Ethan. "Don't you want to or are you just worried 'bout what Big John would say about it?" Ethan had struck a nerve.

"Naw, it's not that at all!" barked Blue. "I do what I want to. I just think mining's a fool's game."

Ethan regarded him with a smirk. "Well, it might be a fool's game and it mightn't be. How will you know unless you give it a try? A lot of men have struck it rich, you know, and I hear Tombstone's a great place for fun. C'mon, Blue. Won't you try it for just a little while? If you don't like it, and we don't both become rich as Croesus, you can always go home again. C'mon, Blue...you're still young. Don't you ever wanna get away, see new things, try life out on your own? Don't ya want have all your adventures while you're still young enough to enjoy them, before you get too old and settled?" Blue started to answer, but Ethan hurried on. "Just think on it, Blue. You know, I can still read you like a book. I can see that restless look on your face...I seen you watchin' that train when you thought no one was lookin.' I noticed that wistful look on your face; you wanna see other places and see how other people live! You don't have to say 'yes' right off, but think about it. I'll be here at the hotel for another week, getting' my affairs together."

Blue looked at Ethan for a long moment, then rose slowly from the table. Shaking Ethan's hand, he said, "I'll keep that in mind, but I doubt if I change my mind. If I don't see you before you head to Tombstone, I'll wish you luck. It was great seein' you again after all these years."

Ethan peered up at Blue. Taking Blue's hand, he gave Blue a devilish wink. "Okay, Blue," he said. "I can't force you; only you can decide if you wanna give it a go or if you wanna stay here and grow old before your time." Blue said nothing in reply, simply gave Ethan a frown and headed out of town, a confused look on his face.

As Blue rode on towards the High Chaparral, fleeting and restless thoughts crossed his mind. He had never put voice to how he felt, but his conversation with Ethan made him define his wanderlust. It wasn't so much that he minded ranching, but there were days when Blue felt he would scream if he so much as looked at another cow! Blue wasn't entirely sure that silver mining was his calling, but he did know that he wanted to get away, spread his wings and try something new. Maybe he would join Ethan in Tombstone. First, he would have to break the news to his father, something he knew wouldn't be easy. Also, there was the matter of the law. A man could keep his son with him and working for him until the boy turned twenty-one; it was on the books. Blue would be twenty-one in a matter of months, but John could hold him to it if he was of a mind. Lost in his thoughts, Blue suddenly came over a rise and the High Chaparral loomed before him. He did love his home, but he was restless. He would broach the subject with John after supper.

At supper, Blue was unusually quiet and occupied but no one seemed to notice. Finally, everyone had left the table save for Blue and John. John began to rise from his chair and, Blue knowing it would be now or never, stopped him. "Pa? Can I talk to you for a minute?" John said nothing, simply turned back around, sat down in his chair and fixed his son with a slightly impatient look. There it was, the raised eyebrow! How was it that one look from his father could make Blue feel like a tongue-tied six-year-old? Gathering his courage, Blue forged on. "Guess who I ran into today in Tucson, Pa? John sat staring at him, so Blue exclaimed, "Ethan Trent, that's who! Can you believe it?" John looked less than excited by this piece of news, not surprisingly. Ethan and Blue had been friends back in Missouri and the two of them, together, seemed to get into more than their share of trouble. John had always felt that Blue would never have dreamed up half of their schemes on his own. Sure, the trouble they got themselves into was never serious and, while John never discouraged their friendship, he sure never encouraged it, either. If the truth be known, John was more than a little glad when they headed for Kansas and left Missouri and Ethan Trent far behind. Blue half expected John's reaction and hastened on. "Guess what he plans to do, Pa? He plans to mine for silver in Tombstone and he's asked me to join him for a little while..."

John frowned and, interrupting said, "What kind of foolishness is that? Do you think I can spare you? Why in Heaven's name, would you want to mine for silver? Are you tired of the High Chaparral and honest work?"

Blue knitted his brows. "No, Pa! Nothin' like that. It's just...I just wanna try something new for a change. I wanna see someplace new. Can't you understand that, Pa? I'm not sure that silver mining is for me, but how will I ever know if I don't try it? If it isn't for me, then maybe I can be more sure that ranching is what I want to do."

John looked unconvinced. "If you're so determined to try it, then I won't stop you." Blue smiled, but John continued on. "Don't look so happy. I still think it's a foolish idea. You know exactly how I feel about mining for silver or for gold. It's a fool's game. For every man that gets rich, there's hundreds more who go home with empty pockets and broken dreams. That's if they have a home to go back to. I've always felt experience is the best teacher, so go ahead and go to Tombstone. I won't stop you, but I won't pretend to give you my blessing, either." Blue's smile faded at John's words and he looked crestfallen. He thanked his father, but there was no pleasure in his voice. He left the table and walked slowly upstairs to his room, leaving John looking after him with a resigned and weary frown on his face. Buck, who had been eavesdropping from the kitchen, strolled over to the table and straddled a chair. John, about to rise from the table, fixed him with a look and demanded, "I suppose you think I'm wrong?"

Buck drawled, "I ain't sayin' that. At least you gave the boy permission to go...John, he's got the wanderlust and you had it, too. You know if you hadn't, you'd still be farming back in Virginia and not ranching out here in Arizona Territory. Look how far away from home you are. You know Pa wanted you to stay and work the family farm, but you had other ideas. You had to have your own farm in Missouri and when that wasn't enough, you had to move your family to Kansas. Then, you had to come out here to Arizona. You didn't do as Pa expected you to and you turned out all right. Blue's just bein' like his daddy; he's only doin' what you done. Give him a chance to go off on his own and spread his wings a little. I'm purty sure mining ain't for him, but we could both talk until we was blue in the face and he wouldn't believe us. He's gotta try it for hisself. It ain't no big deal, John. Just let the boy try. You and AnnieLee raised him right, so trust him. Maybe you can't give him your blessing, but you could at least try to understand him and not make him feel so bad about it."

John just looked at Buck, quizzically. His only answer was a grudging, "Hmmm." Buck knew this was as close as his brother would ever get to admitting that Buck was right. Blue would leave for Tombstone and, even if he didn't have his father's full blessing, at least he could leave without feeling he had betrayed John. Besides, Buck knew Blue better than most anyone. Left to his own devices, Blue would probably be back to the High Chaparral within a few months.

The next day, Blue sent word to town with Joe Butler. The note informed Ethan that Blue would join him by Saturday, and together, the two of them would travel to Tombstone. Blue knew that he would need most of the week to get his affairs together and that Ethan would require that much time himself. The week seemed to pass slowly to Blue. John wasn't bein' exactly hostile, but he wasn't bein' very warm, either. 'Course, Blue had never known his pa to possess that particular character trait, so it was hard to gauge John's true feelings.

When the day finally arrived for Blue to leave, he gave Victoria a dutiful hug and bad his uncle a fond farewell. He gave John a hesitant glance, then extended his hand. "Goodbye, Sir," he said. "I don't know exactly how long I'll be gone, but..."

John interrupted him, "I still won't pretend that I think this is a good idea, but I realize you need to give it a try. I just hope you'll tire of it soon. Just remember, whatever happens, you'll always have a home at the High Chaparral." Blue gave John a surprised look; what had caused his pa to act so uncharacteristically generous? Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, however, Blue shook his father's hand and made a hasty retreat before John could change his mind.

When Blue and Ethan finally arrived in Tombstone, it was all Blue could do not to stare. He was all wide-eyed wonder, however, at the goings-on in the boom town. Blue thought Tucson had its exciting moments, but it was a sleepy little burg compared to Tombstone. As the two young men made their way up the main street, Blue noted the numerous saloons and all the painted ladies loitering about and calling out to them. As they rode past the Oriental Saloon, shots rang out and Blue instinctively ducked. Two men staggered out into the street, exchanging gunfire and heated words. Luckily, the both of them were too drunk to do much damage and the town sheriff soon relieved them of their firearms. Ethan had made arrangements for them at Mrs. Dell's boarding house and they had one evening to settle in. The next morning, bright and early, the two of them were to report for work at the Lucky Strike silver mine.

Before several weeks had passed, Blue began to think that, maybe, ranching wasn't such a bad life after all. Mining was hard, dirty, hot, tedious and back-breaking work and those were the good points! Blue would have gone back home already if he thought he could do it and save face. Pride would not let him admit defeat and he just knew that John would be the type to hold it over his head for a long, long time. He decided to stick it out a little while longer. A rich vein of silver had recently been discovered at the Lucky Strike which proved quite bountiful for the owners, but not for the workers who still pulled in only workman's pay. Ethan wasn't too happy with this arrangement. Leaning on his pickaxe, he pulled his bandana out of his back pocket and wiped his grimy, sweat-stained face. "This ain't never gonna do, Blue," he sighed. "The two of us'll never get rich workin' for someone else. We gotta get our own stake."

Blue stared at him quizzically. "How we ever gonna do that?" he asked, tiredly. "I don't know how much money you got put away, but I ain't got near enough for a half-interest in the poorest mine around these parts."

Ethan looked at Blue, a knowing look on his face. "Leave the worryin' to me," he said. "I got my eye on a real sweet place and I think I can pick it up for a song. I can get my hands on some quick cash and I can stake you your half. When we come into our bonanza, you can pay me back."

Blue frowned, doubtfully. "Well, I don't know..." he hesitated, but Ethan seemed to take no mind.

A couple of days later, Ethan burst into Blue's room. "Come with me, Blue!" he fairly shouted. "I got somethin' to show ya!" Blue, curious, followed Ethan over to the livery stable where they hitched up their horses and rode to the southern end of the town. About a mile out, Ethan stopped suddenly, sweeping out one arm. "There it is!" he crowed. Blue frowned in puzzlement.

"There what is?" he asked.

"Why, our new silver mine, Partner!" laughed Ethan.

"Wh-a-a-a-t?" Blue couldn't quite believe his ears.

"You heard me, our silver mine!" grinned Ethan at Blue's dumbfounded expression. "Now what are we gonna name it?"

"Wait a minute," said Blue. "How'd it become our silver mine? Where'd you get the money for it?"

Ethan smiled patiently at Blue, like a parent might smile at a troublesome child. "Ol' man Morton needed to get back to Ohio right away. Family problems. He sold the mine fairly cheap. I was able to beat all the other buyers out 'cause I could come us with the hard cash faster than anyone else." Blue knitted his brows together; things were moving a bit too fast for him. Ethan, sensing his doubts, went on. "I asked around, the mine's a profitable one. Don't worry; you got nothin' to lose. I know you ain't got the cash right now, so when we start makin' a profit, you can pay me then. If we don't strike it rich, then you don't owe me anything.

Blue just stared at him, "That seems awful generous to me; why would you make me such an offer? And where'd you come up with cash up front?"

"Oh, don't worry," Ethan said, dismissing Blue's doubts with a wave of his hand. "I managed to get my hands on some cash; you don't need to concern yourself about that. As to the other, I like you, Blue! I want us to be partners and I feel a bit guilty 'bout draggin' you away from your ranch. 'Sides, you'll be pullin' your weight. I'll probably be away a lot on business, and I'll need a hard-working man to manage the mine. That's you!"

Blue, ever the worrier, found himself weakening. It did seem to be a 'no-lose' proposition for him. Besides, he had wanted to spread his wings and try something new. "Okay," he said, a smile coming slowly to his face. "I'll do it! Put 'er there, Partner!" And extending his right hand, he and Ethan sealed their partnership with a hearty handshake. They returned to town where the partnership agreement was drawn up, signed by both parties, and duly witnessed. For better or for worse, Blue was suddenly in business for himself. It now seemed it would be a long, long time before he returned to the High Chaparral. That is, if he returned.

Weeks passed and life went on pretty much the same for Blue, even though he was the new co-owner of the Wide Missouri Silver Mine. Contrary to Ethan's promises, the Wide Missouri wasn't exactly prosperous though it produced enough to enable Blue to pay for his room and board. He barely had enough left over for luxuries, that is, if you considered food to be a luxury. Ethan didn't seem to have any problems; he was always flashing a lot of cash. Blue couldn't understand it; he knew they weren't making a huge profit from the mine. Blue guessed that Ethan had come into an inheritance, though Ethan never bothered to explain how he had come by so much money. Truth be told, Blue didn't see much of Ethan during the day. Though they had been able to hire some men to work the mine, Blue seemed to be doing most of the work. He didn't feel he had the right to complain, though. After all, Ethan had signed him on as a partner, even though Blue hadn't been able to ante up his share of half the mine. Ethan didn't seem to mind. He seemed perfectly content to let Blue do most of the work while he kept flashing his bankroll around and was always away on mine business.

One evening, on the rare occasion that Blue wasn't working late with his nose buried in the mine's record books, Ethan talked him into accompanying him over to the Oriental Saloon. Blue wasn't much for the saloon scene, but he was tired of too much work and not enough fun, so he agreed to tag along. The Oriental was nothing like the utilitarian Red Dog Saloon back in Tucson. It was carpeted and chandeliered and there was plenty of entertainment for the patrons, both on the stage and on the floor.

Upon entering, Ethan immediately joined a hot poker game. Not being much of a gambler, Blue declined to join the game and began to wander around the floor checking out the other games of chance. He spied a roulette wheel and, anxious to see how the game worked, he strolled over to observe. The roulette wheel was being operated by a pretty young woman in an emerald-green satin dress, her luxurious auburn hair in ringlets around her heart-shaped face. As Blue drew closer, the woman looked up at him through glass-green almond shaped eyes framed by long, black lashes. Spying him, she said, "Hey, cowboy...how's about tryin' your luck?"

Blue smiled politely and said, "Um, no...I ain't much of a gambler and I'm not very lucky, either. I was just curious to see how it worked." The woman gave him a quick smile and turned back to her paying customers. Blue stood and watched her for a moment longer, then got a beer and drifted over to an empty table in the corner. He sat there alone for nearly twenty minutes, just observing the controlled din around him and relaxing. He sensed someone standing at his shoulder and glanced around to see the lady roulette dealer. "I'm on a break; can I join you? She asked.

Blue, taken by surprise, jumped to his feet and nodded. She sat down and they began to get acquainted. Now that she was up close to him, Blue noticed the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and was forced to revise his initial impression of her. At first glance, he had guessed her to be about twenty-two or three, though it was hard to tell through all her 'war paint.' Now on closer observation, Blue guessed her to be closer to sixteen or seventeen, though she would never admit it. "Pleased to meet you, ma'am," he introduced himself. "My name is Blue Cannon."

She smiled and said, "Likewise, I'm sure. I'm Kitty Murphy, full-time roulette dealer and part-time songbird.""Kitty Murphy," said Blue. "Your given name is Kitty?" Kitty looked at him him out of the corner of her eye and lowered her voice conspiratorially.

"No, it isn't. My given name is Mary Katherine, though no one here knows that...'Sides, you're one to talk! Is Blue your given name?" Blue, taken aback, had to laugh.

"You got me there," he confessed. "Naw, my given name is William." She observed him, coolly, for a long moment.

"I'm a pretty good judge of character, got to be in my line of work. I seen lots of men walk through them swingin' doors and they all seem alike. Not you, though. You don't seem to fit in here. Where you from?"

Blue, puzzled by her observation, said, "Well, right now I'm from Tombstone."

"Right now?" she asked. "What do you mean by 'right now.'"

"Well, I'm in business here right now. Me and my partner own the Wide Missouri Mine, but I came here from Tucson. I used to be a rancher." He figured that was close enough to the truth.

She arched her eyebrows at him. "The Wide Missouri Mine? Don't tell me you're partners with Ethan Trent?"

"Well, yeah. Why do you ask?" wondered Blue.

She frowned. "You just don't seem to be in the same class as he is. I shouldn't tell you this, seein' as your partners and all, but a lot of people don't trust him."

"What do you mean?" pursued Blue.

Kitty looked away, then rose abruptly from the table. "I don't mean nuthin' by that and it's time for me to get back to work...Don't be a stranger, cowboy." And, with that, she sauntered away from the table, leaving Blue to mull over her warning.

A week later, Blue ran into Kitty outside the General Store and she smiled in recognition. "Well, hey there, cowboy!" she called. "Ain't seen you back at the Oriental lately."

Blue smiled politely and tipped his hat. "That was a rare occasion for me," he confessed. "I work such long days at the mine that I'm usually too tired to venture out at night."

Kitty stared up at him and coolly said, "Don't seem to affect your partner none. He's there every night, high-rollin' it up."

"You don't seem to like him much, do you?" asked Blue. "Mind tellin' me why?"

She seemed to size him up, then said, "Aw, nuthin' I can put my finger on...Say, are you in a real hurry to get back? Would you mind buyin' a lady a cup of coffee at the cafe?"

"I have a little time to spare," replied Blue, extending his arm to her. "I wouldn't mind at all."

Minutes turned to hours, as they lingered over their coffee, ignoring the glares of the waiter. Blue had been too busy lately to admit how lonesome he was and he enjoyed talking to Kitty. She reminded him of the girls he had known back in Missouri and Kansas, for all her bluff and bravado. He suspected that she had a Midwestern upbringing and she confirmed it as she told him of growing up in Morning Sun, Iowa. "Why did you leave?" asked Blue.

She frowned, then said, "I just got tired of it there. My ma got married again after my pa died and I didn't much care for my new pa, so I lit out six months ago."

"How old were you when you left?" asked Blue, innocently.

Caught up in her story, Kitty let her secret slip. "I was seventee...twenty-one!" She glared at Blue for tricking the truth out of her. One look at his face and she knew that he hadn't believed for one second that she was what she pretended to be. "Don't you dare tell anyone what I just told you!" she hissed. "They'd kick me out for sure if they knew how young I was!"

"I ain't gonna tell," promised Blue. "But, I don't think you belong there. Why don't you go back home? Tombstone ain't no place for you..." A thought seemed to come to him. "Say, your stepfather didn't do anything to you, did he? Is that why you don't want to go home?"

Kitty was tempted to lie, but she couldn't. "Naw, nuthin' like that. He just wasn't my pa, is all."

"Well, did you give him a chance?" asked Blue.

She began to answer, then looked at him sharply. "I'm tired of talkin' about me. What about you? Tombstone ain't no place for you, either. When are you goin' to admit you ain't no miner? You said you was from Tucson, a rancher. That ain't a bad thing to be. Why don't you go back home?"

Blue, surprised at her turning the tables on him, stated, "I just don't feel like it...'sides we were talkin' about you, not me! Anyway, my situation's different."

She looked at him through narrowed eyes. "Well, we're through talkin' about me," she said. "And what makes your situation so all-fired different than mine? When you're ready to go back home where you belong, then you can come to me and talk to me about 'goin home! Until then, I have a job to get back to...Good day, Mr. Cannon!" The conversation terminated, she turned her back on him, and exited the cafe, leaving a very surprised Blue to stare after her.

Business went on as usual at the Wide Missouri. They were finding silver, but it still wasn't a measurable amount. Blue, busy from working from practically sunup to sundown, didn't spend much time in town. As a result, he didn't see any more of Kitty Murphy, though he thought about her from time to time. He wasn't aware that people in Tombstone were talking of the rash of bank robberies around the area, from Bisbee to Warren to Sierra Vista. There was talk that the Tombstone bank might be next.

On Friday night, Blue was at the boarding house, fast asleep. He'd been busy all day long in the mine and hadn't seen Ethan for several days. Still feeling indebted to Ethan, Blue felt he had no right to complain. He knew someone should be running the mine and since Ethan couldn't be bothered with the mundane details, it fell to Blue. In the middle of a sound sleep, Blue was roused from bed by a loud pounding at his door. Half-asleep, groggy, and startled out of his wits, Blue lit the hurricane lamp and stumbled to answer the door. He threw it open to find himself staring down the barrel of Sheriff Sisler's gun. "William Cannon," intoned the man. "You're under arrest for armed robbery and the murder of David Loggins." Finding himself suddenly wide-awake, Blue's jaw dropped open. "Wha...what are you talking about?"

"You were seen robbing the Tombstone Bank late this afternoon; a positive identification has been made. Now, get dressed. I'm takin' you in." Blue, seeing it was useless to argue with a gun pointed directly at him, threw on his clothes and was escorted over to the jail at gunpoint. Before he could even catch his breath, Blue found himself on the wrong side of the iron bars. Completely baffled, he tried appealing to the sheriff.

"There's been some mistake. I haven't been near the bank all day. I've been working at the mine!"

"Where were you at 5 o'clock this evening?" intoned the sheriff. Blue thought back.

"Well, I was at the mine then, going over the books."

"You got any witnesses to that fact?" persisted the sheriff.

Blue felt his heart sink. Tom Hardy's wife was having a baby and Joe Swift had taken sick. For one reason or another, he had let all the workers go home early that day. Feeling himself go pale, he stuttered, "No." Then, "Don't I get to talk to a lawyer?"

"Yeah," smiled the sheriff coldly, "It's the law, so I gotta let you. Ask me, it's a waste of time. Got a witness who seen you shoot Dave Loggins and your partner's right now lyin' dead over at the undertakers. Seems he didn't get off as lucky as you; he was shot dead robbin' the bank." Blue's eyes opened wide in shock and his knees buckled out from under him as he sank down onto the iron cot.

"Sh...shot?" he asked, tremulously. "Ethan's dead?" The sheriff sneered as he turned away.

"Yeah. As if you didn't already know." Blue sat, unbelieving, in the silent, cold cell as a sick feeling washed over him in waves.

After a long, sleepless night in the Tombstone jail, Blue came face-to-face with his accuser: one Mrs. Stella Wickett. The sheriff escorted her right up to the bars of Blue's jail cell. Lowering her spectacles, she peered closely at his face. Straightening up, she exclaimed. "That's him; that's the one! He's the man who killed poor Mr. Loggins. I was standing at the cashier's cage when he and his partner burst into the bank and demanded all the money in the safe. Banker Cherry tried to talk to the robbers when Ethan pulled his gun and shot him in the shoulder. The security guard shot Ethan Trent, then this man here shot back. The guard ducked and poor Mr. Loggins was shot through the heart. It was too late for Ethan Trent; he got what he deserved! However, this man here fled after murdering Mr. Loggins. Both men were wearing masks at the time, but we knew who they was, all the same! It was just confirmed when Trent was lyin' on the floor, dying" Finishing her tale, she glared at Blue, accusingly. Blue appealed to her.

"Please, Ma'am, you're mistaken. I wasn't there last night; I didn't kill anyone. How could you be sure it was me, anyway? You said that Ethan and his partner were both wearing masks."

"Oh, it was you, all right. Id'a known you strictly by your blonde hair and them unusual blue eyes. But, when your mask slipped before you ran out of the door, I knew for sure. 'Sides, you and Ethan Trent were partners at the Wide Missouri Mine which I hear tell isn't too profitable. And, if that's so, how come your partner was always seen flashing a huge bankroll all over town? Do you think all the recent bank robberies around the area had anything to do with it?"

"I can't speak for Ethan; he's lyin' over at the undertakers. There's no doubt he was guilty 'cause he was killed robbin' the bank. But it wasn't me that was with him last night!" exclaimed Blue. "You gotta believe me!' The woman just glared at him, frostily, then turned and walked away.

Blue's next visitor was a Mr. Massey, his court-appointed lawyer. He was a short, pudgy, balding, middle-aged man who didn't seem to be entirely convinced of Blue's innocence, though he didn't say so in so may words. He simply took down Blue's story, told him to keep quiet and he'd do the rest. The attorney didn't seem too optimistic about Blue's chances; Dave Loggins had been a popular man in Tombstone who left behind a widow and four small children. After Mr. Massey left, Blue felt even more alone and depressed.

Several hours later, Blue had another visitor. Kitty Murphy walked up to his cell and began to speak in whispered tones. "I heard the news late last night. I know you couldn't have done it, but I wasn't surprised to hear about Ethan Trent. Have you seen an attorney yet?" Blue nodded, soberly. "Yeah, he was here earlier to talk to me. I'm not sure if he even believes I'm innocent. He doesn't seem to think we have much of a case. I was at the mine last night at the time of the robbery and murder, but no one can testify to that."

Kitty bit her lip, appearing to mull something over in her mind. "You could tell them you were with me up in my room." Noticing Blue's expression, she hurried on. "No, I ain't a soiled dove; don't look at me that way. But people will believe the worst about a gal who works in a saloon..."

Blue interrupted, hotly. "No, I ain't gonna let you do that! I don't want to ruin your reputation even if it means saving my neck. No, I'm innocent and I'm gonna prove it!"

Kitty lowered her eyes and nodded. "I didn't think you'd go along with it, but I had to offer. But how can you prove your innocence, stuck in that cell? I can't bear to see you go through this alone, either. Have you wired your family for help?" Blue's reaction surprised her.

"No, and I'm not going to!"

Taken aback, she whispered, "Why ever not?"

"What could they do for me? If the judge is bound to find me guilty, there's nothin' they can do. 'Sides, I came out here to find my own way. I wanted to stand on my own two feet; that's the point! If I go runnin' back to my family, what did I prove? Anyway, my pa told me that comin' to Tombstone was a foolish idea. I'm not gonna send for him and have him hold this over my head forever!"

"Forever may not be that long!" said Kitty, disbelievingly. "That's foolish talk and you know it! You would rather swing at the end of a rope than risk a little embarrassment?"

Blue glared at her, then turned away. "You just don't get it, do you Kitty? It's not like that at all. It's just that I got myself into this and I'll get myself out. I'm innocent and I'll prove it!"

Kitty shook her head, mutely. Finding her voice, she went on. "You aren't out on the streets, so you haven't heard the talk. Dave Loggins was well-liked and people are angry about his widowed wife and fatherless children. Ethan Trent wasn't well-liked and now, neither are you. They are going to rush your trial and no jury will find you innocent. That is, if you even get a trial...!" Blue turned around to stare at her. He had gone pale, but there was still a determined set to his jaw. Kitty shook her head once again. She knew Blue wouldn't change his mind. Kitty had always known most men to be prideful, but Blue's stubborn and foolish attitude had her puzzled. She sighed deeply, then said, "Well, I have to go now and get ready for work. I'm singin' tonight at the Oriental. Take care of yourself, Blue." Having said her peace, Kitty turned away, leaving Blue suddenly feeling very alone.

Evening came and darkness fell. For a change, the streets of Tombstone were fairly quiet, except for an occasional shout, a drunken song and a shot or two ringing out. The night was deathly still and Blue could hear the goings-on over at the nearby Oriental Saloon. He heard piano music drift out into the street and a melodic voice began to sing a popular song that was making its way around the Western territories. The voice was pure and sweet and Blue strained to listen. It was Kitty's voice and the mournful refrain seemed to speak directly to Blue.

As I walked out in the streets of Laredo,

As I walked out in Laredo one day,

I spied a young cowboy wrapped up in white linen

All wrapped in white linen and cold as the clay.

I see by your outfit that you are a cowboy.

These words did he say as I boldly stepped by.

Come sit down beside me and hear my sad story,

For I'm shot in the breast and I know I must die.

So beat the drum slowly and play the fife lowly,

And play the Dead March as your bear me along.

Take me to the valley and lay the sod o'er me,

For I'm a young cowboy and I know I done wrong.

Then bring me some water, a cool cup of water,

To soothe my parched lips, then the poor cowboy cried.

By the time I returned, his spirit had left him,

And gone to its Maker, the cowboy was dead.

So, we beat the drum slowly and played the fife lowly,

And bitterly wept as we bore him along.

For we all loved our comrade, so brave, young and handsome.

We all loved our comrade, although he done wrong.

The music faded and the night was silent once again. Even though darkness had fallen, Blue could make out the silhouette of the gallows that stood in the courtyard. A lump rose to his throat and Blue turned away from the barred window and hung his head, dejectedly. There would be no sleep again for him that night.

Buck Cannon stood at the bar of the Red Dog Saloon. It had been a long, hot, dusty ride into Tucson on business for his brother and he was anxious to wet his whistle. Mike, the bartender, had just placed a tall beer in front of him and Buck was eying it in anticipation, when he became aware of someone standing at his shoulder. Raising the glass to his lips, he turned to stare at the young stranger. It was a boy, probably Blue's age or even younger, and he stood watching Buck silently. Buck eyed the slender lad a moment longer, then spoke. "Somethin' I can help you with, boy?"

"Maybe there is if you be Buck Cannon." replied the boy.

"I might be," drawled Buck. "Who wants to know?"

The boy leaned in closer and whispered urgently, "If you care anything at all about your nephew, Blue, you'll come with me!"

Buck's jaw dropped and he grabbed the boy by the lapels of his baggy shirt. "What do you mean by that? Is somethin' wrong with my Blue Boy? Answer me!"

The skinny lad wriggled from his grasp. "He's in serious trouble and he needs your help! There isn't time to waste. Now, are you gonna come with me?" Buck, his beer forgotten, trailed after the young stranger. The boy led him to a back alley and turned to face him. Taking off his hat, the stranger shook out long, auburn curls. Buck couldn't believe his eyes.

"Why, you...you're a girl!" he sputtered.

The girl nodded. "I rode from Tombstone alone. I figured it'd be safer if people was to think I was a boy. Kitty Murphy's my name. Blue's in jail in Tombstone. They claim he shot and killed a man, robbing the Tombstone Bank. Now, you and I both know he didn't do it, but I think we'd be the only ones!"

Buck felt a stab of fear run through him. "What? How could that be? Is Blue Boy okay? Did he send you?

Kitty stared at him for a long moment, then admitted, "He didn't send me and he has no idea I've come. It's real funny, but he didn't want any of his family to know. Luckily, he talked a bit about you to me so I knew what you looked like and where to find you."

Buck looked stunned. "I could almost guess he wouldn't want to tell his daddy, foolish idea that it is. What I can't figger out is why he wouldn't want me to know? My nephew knows he can trust me; he's always been able to call on me for help."

Kitty merely shrugged. "I don't know what his reasons are, Mr. Cannon, and it's likely he'll be upset with me for tellin' ya. What I want to know is, will you come?

"Of course, I will. You ride with me. I'll go back to the High Chaparral and make up a story for John and then the two of us will go see about settin' my stubborn nephew free."

When they reached the High Chaparral, Buck instructed Kitty to wait for him out of sight of the house and he would meet up with her in a few minutes. He burst into the house, ran up the stairs, jammed some extra clothes and provisions into a satchel and ran back down. John was waiting for him at the foot of the stairs and when he spied the satchel in Buck's hand, he got a look like he'd been sucking lemons most of the day. "What's the meaning of this? Where are you going? I can't spare you with Blue gone! Are you running off on some wild-goose chase like he did?"

Buck brushed past John. "Don't you worry 'bout me, Brother John. I got somethin' important to do and I'll be back as soon as I can. And, I'll thank you to remember that I'm your brother, not your son. And, unlike your son, I don't have to check with you when I come and go!" John turned red and sputtered indignantly. There was absolutely nothing more he could do or say, however, because Buck was already gone.

It was late afternoon when Sheriff Sisler informed Blue that he had a visitor. Blue assumed it would be Kitty who seemed to be his only ally in Tombstone. She hadn't been to see him for the past several days and he wondered if she, too, had turned on him. So, it was entirely unexpected when Blue's visitor turned out to be his Uncle Buck. Forgetting, momentarily, that he had not wanted him there in the first place, Blue jumped to his feet, a smile of welcome on his face. Before he could betray his true feelings, however, Blue frowned and said, "What are you doin' here?"

Buck, coming right up to the bars of the cell, returned the frown and replied. "That's a nice greeting! What do you mean 'what am I doin' here?' I came to help you..."

Blue interrupted, hotly. "How'd you know I was here? It was Kitty, wasn't it? I told her I didn't want anyone to know about this!

Buck raised his eyebrows in surprise. "What does it matter how I found out? You need help, don't ya? Are you so donkey-stupid that you'd swing by a rope before you'd go to your own family for help?...No, don't interrupt me; let me finish! Now I know why you're in here and I know you're innocent, but it seems me and your little friend are the only two people in town who believes that. Now, if you didn't do it, that means someone else did. How do you propose to find the man who did it when you're locked away behind bars? That's what you need me for! I'm gonna find the fella that murdered Loggins during the bank robbery and bring him in." Buck looked into Blue's eyes and lowered his voice. "What I can't figger out is why? Why, Blue Boy, why wouldn't you ask for my help?" Blue stared back and shrugging, turned away. He mumbled something under his breath; something that Buck could barely catch. Something about standing on his own two feet, something about thinking that Buck must be awful tired by now of always bailing Blue out of his scrapes. Buck was taken aback by Blue's comments and simply stared at Blue's back.

It was true that Buck had been called upon, many times, to bail young Blue Boy out of all kinds of scrapes. Blue, in fact, had vastly preferred it that way and was perfectly happy that his father not know about it. Buck always felt slightly guilty about keeping secrets from John, but most of the time he felt that his older brother was too hard on Blue. And since most of Blue Boy's 'scrapes' were minor ones and merely boyish pranks, Buck was usually able to look the other way where John was concerned. There was one time, however, when Buck found ten-year-old Blue nosing around the rickety, broken down abandoned coal mine, despite many warnings to the contrary. Buck had watched his nephew dart in and out of the mine and walked over to the entrance to catch him coming back out. Young Blue had bounded outside with a big smile on his face until he saw his uncle waiting for him and his smile immediately vanished at the look on his uncle's face. Buck grabbed Blue by the scruff of his neck and escorted him home. Blue, realizing the seriousness of his offense, broke away from his uncle's grasp a couple of times, and began to dance around Buck, begging and pleading with his uncle "Don't tell Pa...please!? I promise I won't do it again! Please, Uncle Buck, please?" But, Buck would not be budged. Too angry to speak, he fixed his mouth in a grim line and grabbed Blue, again, by the scruff of the neck and marched him home. Buck was sorry for the whipping that Blue received at John's hands, but it did serve to discourage Blue from ever again poking around the dangerous old mine. He did feel a little remorseful every time Blue Boy looked at him through tearful, wounded eyes – the word 'betrayed' all but written over his young face. Still, Blue Boy couldn't stay mad for long at his Uncle Buck and was soon making up to him within a day or two. Now, many years had passed and Buck, once again, was torn between loyalty to his nephew and to his older brother. The old guilty feelings were stirred up again; John should be told of his son's precarious position, but Buck was also fairly certain that the grown-up Blue would not be as forgiving as the childhood Blue had been.

Buck shook his head sharply, bringing him back to the present and found Blue staring curiously at him, waiting for him to answer. Buck spoke sternly to him, "What's the matter with you, boy? Don't you know by now that you can always count on me to help you out? I don't consider it a burden no matter how many times you ask me. Don't you realize that after all your 'so-called' friends desert you that you can always count on your family? I know you don't want your pa to know about this and I ain't gonna tell him...yet. I'm gonna try to fix this myself. Don't fret; I know you're gonna get out of this...but, if worse comes to worse...and, it ain't...I gotta tell your pa. I ain't gonna be the one to go home and tell him after the fact; he'd never forgive me!"

Blue nodded slowly. He knew Buck was right. He also knew that Buck would move heaven and earth to get him out of trouble. He'd always been able to count on his uncle and he was confident that Buck would not let him down. Buck, noticing Blue's change of heart, smiled warmly. He reached through the bars and raised Blue's chin so that he could look him straight in the eye. "Don't you worry," he said. "I'm gonna find the murderer and I'm gonna set you free, count on it. Have I let you down yet? Now keep your chin up and don't hold a grudge against Kitty for tellin' me. She's a loyal friend and you're lucky to have her in your corner."

Blue smiled for the first time since setting eyes on his uncle. "I know I am and I also know I'm lucky to have you for an uncle. You've never let me down yet and I know you won't this time, either. Just hurry back, will ya? I'm getting real tired of sittin' in this jail cell, with only myself for company. Even those Chaparral cows would look good to me right now!"

Buck grinned, at least Blue Boy was keeping his spirits up. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Sit tight 'til then."

Blue gave him a lop-sided grin, "Where am I gonna go?" Buck laughed and, waving farewell, left the jail and set out on his mission. He did not let Blue sense the worry he was feeling and Blue did not let his uncle sense the panic that he was experiencing.

Buck left the Tombstone jail, not knowing what direction to head. He knew he didn't have much time; Blue's murder trial was to begin in one week's time. Buck patted the daguerreotype of Blue which he was carrying in his inside vest pocket. He knew he probably wouldn't have much luck tracking down the criminal in Tombstone, so he decided to head for the small border towns near the Mexican border. He was taking a chance, not knowing which way the murderer had lit out, so he said a small prayer and trusted his instincts. He hoped upon hope that the killer hadn't decided to flee the country, but he figured the man was just cocky enough to stick around.

Buck headed south to Hereford and headed over to a local saloon. He ordered a beer and ambled over to join a poker game. Pretending disinterest, he kept a close ear out on the conversations going on around him. There didn't seem to be anything newsworthy going on. After losing a couple of pots and loosening up his opponents, he removed the photo of Blue and passed it around. "Lookin' for my nephew," he said. "Anyone of you seen someone around who looks like this?" The first man reached for the photograph. "What's he done?" he asked, suspiciously. "Oh, nothin'...it's just that his daddy is ailin' and we don't know how much longer he has...need to find the boy before it's too late. There mightn't be much time to waste."

The first man shrugged and passed the photo on, "Wish I could help you, but I ain't seen him." Each man took a quick look, shook his head, and passed it along. The last man looked long and hard, then said, "I mighta seen him and I mighta not. What would it be worth to you to find out?" Buck slid a ten-dollar note over to the man. "Would that help you to remember?" The man pocketed the money. "He was in here 'bout a week ago, but he didn't stay long. I remember him 'cause he got in an argument with Joe Morton, said he was cheatin' in a card game. Joe was lucky to get away with his life. Don't care much for yore nephew. Was glad to see him take off for the Palominas." Buck thanked the man and said, "The boy's always been a little wild. 'Tween you and me, I think it was worryin' 'bout him sent his daddy to his deathbed afore his time. Thanks for your help, even if it didn't come cheap."

A day later, Buck rode into Palominas and went into the local saloon. He could tell the trail was getting warmer, as the first man he showed Blue's photo to had remembered him passing through there a few days back. Seemed the man had gotten into an argument there, too. Blue's lookalike didn't seem to be too popular in any of the towns he passed through. He also didn't seem to be too concerned about keeping a low profile, luckily for Buck. Buck stuck around just long enough to learn that the man had taken off for Naco and set out once again.

When Buck walked into the cantina in Naco, he didn't even need to pass Blue's photograph around. When Buck's eyes adjusted to the gloom of the cantina, he started with surprise. For just a brief second, he though Blue had escaped from the Tombstone jail and was now sitting in a corner in the midst of a hot poker game. Buck realized he was finally face-to-face with Blue's lookalike. Ambling over to the table, he pulled up a chair and asked to join in. The man looked up at Buck and said, "These are pretty high stakes, think you can afford it, old timer?"

"Old timer?" Buck drawled. "Didn't yore daddy ever teach you to have respect for your elders? Anyways, don't worry 'bout me. I kin afford it." The young man shrugged and used his foot to pull out an empty chair. "Suit yourself," he said, noncommittally.

Buck drew up to the tale and ordered a bottle of whiskey for the group. He was dealt five cards and he pretended to study them, when all along he was studying Blue's lookalike closer. He was a little thinner, his hair and eyes a shade darker than Blue's, but the resemblance was uncanny. The five men in the group began to ante up and the game went on for several hours. Finally, the only two men left were Buck and the lookalike whose name Buck had discovered was Will Shannon. The irony was not lost on Buck. The last pot was for high stakes, all the money that Buck and Will had before them. Buck called Will and Will laid his cards out in front of him. "Beat that!" he crowed. "Full house, aces over tens!" Buck stared at Will's hand for a long moment, then eyed the boy. "Yep, that's a pretty good hand, all right," he conceded. "'Cept it don't beat a royal flush. Funny, though, we both got the Ace of Spades in our hands. How you figger that?"

Will stared at Buck's hand, then jumped up, knocking the poker table over. He made a play for his revolver, but Buck was faster. "I wouldn't try that if'n I were you. Seems to me that a fella that'd cheat at poker might not mind lettin' an innocent man hang for a crime he had committed. Now, if'n you don't mind, and even if you do, you're comin' to Tombstone with me. Turn around!" Will was in no position to argue and no one was willing to come to a cheater's defense. Buck jammed his pistol between Will's shoulder blades and marched him out of the cantina and into the street. Will wasn't willing to be drug back to Tombstone, though, so reaching for his revolver, he began to spin around. Buck was wise to his tricks, though, and he gave him a sharp clout over the right temple with the butt of his revolver. Suddenly, all went black for young Will Shannon. Buck then hefted him face down over the saddle of Will's horse, firmly binding his wrists and ankles and gagging him with a bandana. It would be several days journey back to Tombstone and Buck didn't plan for Will to die before he could clear Blue of murder charges. He draped a tarp over Will's limp form and set off for Tombstone. He would tell anyone curious enough to approach that his buddy was dyin' of the smallpox and that he was escorting him back to Tombstone, to bury him at Boot Hill. That should be enough to keep anyone far, far away.

It was a long, lonely ride back to Tombstone. Very few approached Buck and his unwilling hostage, and the few who did kept their distance when Buck hollered out that his 'buddy' was dyin' of the smallpox and he was takin' him back home to bury. Buck was careful that Shannon not die of heatstroke, so he checked on him often. He had to keep him alive to clear Blue's name. With nothing else to do, Buck's mind began to drift as he rode on towards his destination.

He thought about Blue. Buck had always loved his nephew dearly, ever since he first laid eyes on him as a tiny babe. Buck had never had children of his own, likely never would. He regarded Blue as the son he never had. Trouble was, Blue had a father, Buck's older brother, John. Buck knew that John loved his son, though he felt his brother neither understood nor appreciated Blue, most times. Blue was an interesting combination of John, Annalee, and Buck. Like his father, Blue could be too serious; like his mother, Blue was sensitive; and, like his uncle, Blue could be hotheaded and stubborn which resulted in many arguments with his daddy. Buck, like the boy's mother, tried to mediate between father and son. However, the Civil War intervened and Buck had to leave to defend the South. He could still remember the towheaded little boy who stood at the window and waved a forlorn farewell, tears streaking down his chubby cheeks.

After four long, heartbreaking years, the Civil War ended. Buck knew he would still be welcome at his brother's home in Missouri, but the South's defeat was a bitter pill for him to swallow. His pride would not let him go back to John's, so he began to drift. He ended up in Missouri, not at his brother's farm, but threw in his lot with Quantrell's Raiders. The Raiders felt the same way he did, that the South should have never surrendered and that the smug Northerners deserved a comeuppance. Buck wasn't entirely comfortable with the Raider's tactics, so he was careful not to cross too far over the line of the law. However, one morning, the Raider's swooped down onto a small town where most of the men there had served in Sherman's army. Sherman was an enemy of the southern people, and he had been responsible for the South's heartbreaking devastation on the Union Army's fiery sweep to the gulf. They deserved to be punished, except it went terribly wrong. A young boy, probably close to Blue Boy's age, was caught in the crossfire. He'd been running to his father's aid when a bullet cut his young life short. Buck, who had never intended for anyone to be killed during the raid, came in at the end of the skirmish. He sat astride his horse, high upon a hill, overlooking the valley and the town, and took in the heartbreaking scene. The boy's mother knelt in the dirt and gathered up the limp body of her boy. She began to keen and wail as she rocked her small, lifeless son back-and-forth. All of a sudden, the world seemed to cave in upon Buck. He could still remember the sick, helpless feeling that washed over him as he sat and watched the pitiful scene. It was right there and then that he realized that there had never been a 'North' and 'South.' There had been only people; people who lived and loved, who laughed and cried, who worried about their loved ones, and too many people had died, needlessly. Watching the woman mourn her small son, the image of a young, towheaded, blue-eyed boy who he hadn't seen for years, appeared before him. Buck was tired and discouraged and, suddenly, he was filled with longing to return to that Missouri farm and hold that little boy in his arms, once more. So, he left Quantrell's Raiders and never looked back. And when he finally trudged up the dirt lane of his brother's farm and set eyes upon the old familiar scene, he felt a peace he hadn't known for years. And when the little blue-eyed boy with arms wide open and a smile bigger than the wide Missouri raced to greet him, all the bitterness and hatred he had harbored suddenly melted away. As Buck hugged his nephew close, he vowed never to be far from him or let harm come to him as long as it was in his power.

When Buck rode into Tombstone, the streets were fairly deserted. Someone told him that the young man who had killed Dave Loggins was now on trial. Judge Emil Waterman, 'the hanging judge' was presiding over the trial and the townsfolk were anxious to see the young blue-eyed stranger pay for the murder of their beloved townsman. Buck knew he would have to work fast to keep the vow he had made so many years before.

Woodrow Massey, Blue's lawyer, approached the bench and whispered urgently into the judge's ear. Judge Waterman frowned and looked at him over lowered spectacles. "Are you sure about this?" he demanded. "This is highly irregular, you know!" The lawyer nodded his head, emphatically, and Judge Waterman summoned the prosecutor up to the bench. After a hasty and highly emotional whispered conference, the judge banged his gavel and called for a break in the proceedings. The trial was to resume promptly at 2:00 pm, after a two-hour recess.

At two o'clock, the courtroom began to fill up again. There were plenty of excited murmurs because the next witness to the stand was to be Stella Wickett, the eyewitness to Dave Loggins' murder. Mrs.

Wickett nervously swore an oath on the Bible, sat down and began to fidget in the chair. Stanley Dell, the prosecutor, approached and asked her if she could identify Dave Loggins' murderer. She hesitated, drew a shaky breath, then pointed directly as a visibly shaken Blue Cannon. Satisfied, the prosecutor took his seat and Woodrow Massey began to question Mrs. Wickett, who eyed him warily.

"You say you saw this young man rob the Tombstone Bank and shoot and kill David Loggins?" Mrs. Wickett nodded, slowly. "You couldn't be mistaken, could you?" he persisted. She hesitated for a moment, then said, "No, no...I was right there when Mr. Loggins was murdered. The killer had blonde hair and the prettiest blue eyes I ever seen and he was the same size as that boy sittin' over yonder."

"But, how can you be sure?" persisted Mr. Massey. "Didn't you say the man was wearing a mask over his face?"

"He did," agreed Mrs. Wickett. "But, it slipped just as he was runnin' for the door. I got a good look at his face, however, before he could make his getaway."

Woodrow Massey nodded, then turned to the judge. "Judge Waterman, may I?" The judge simply nodded and a side door opened into the court. In walked Sheriff Sisler, escorting a young man in shackles. Everyone in the courtroom gasped when they saw the young man; he was practically identical to the accused. Blue was as surprised as everyone else. However, his eyes were glued to the man in black who slipped in behind them and took a seat next to Kitty Murphy. Blue didn't have much time to absorb the turn-of-events when Woodrow Massey, once more, addressed Mrs. Wickett. He had to call to her twice to get her attention as she was sitting, open-mouth and wide-eyed, on the witness stand.

"What's the matter, Mrs. Wickett?" he inquired, solicitously. "You look as if you'd seen a ghost." Stella Wickett turned to look at him, mutely. "Now, Mrs. Wickett. Take a good look at the two young men and notice the striking resemblance they bear to one another. Do you think, now, that you may have been mistaken?"

Mrs. Wickett turned to look at the two young men, once more. "Well, I...I don't know," she confessed. "They do look an awfully lot alike."

Mr. Massey nodded. "Maybe I can help you to decide." Motioning to the sheriff, he bade him to lead Will Shannon over to an empty table and unlock his handcuffs. Tossing a pad of paper to the prisoner, he said, "Here, catch and sign your name." Will Shannon peered at him, suspiciously, then scrawled out Will Shannon. Blue was directed to do the same and he carefully penned, William Cannon. Everyone in the courtroom sat mystified by the proceedings. Mr. Massey again approached Mrs. Wickett who sat with a puzzled look on her face. "Did you notice anything in particular, Mrs. Wickett?" She shook her head, slowly. "Think, Mrs. Wickett, think," he urged. "Once again, did you notice anything in particular?" Mrs. Wickett frowned in concentration and looked first at Blue, then at Will Shannon. Suddenly, a look of understanding dawned on her face.

"Why, the young man you just brought into the courtroom signed his name with his left hand."

"Correct, Mrs. Parsons," conceded the attorney. "Now I want you to think back to the day of Mr. Loggins; murder and, once again, tell everyone what you saw." Mrs. Wickett frowned again and began to speak.

"I remember I was standin' up at the cashier's cage when the two men came in. When they began to shout, I turned to face them. I saw one of the young men draw his pistol and shoot poor Dave Loggins dead...Oh, it was awful!"

"I'm sure it was," soothed Mr. Massey. "But please try to remember, which hand did he use to draw his gun?" Stella Wickett closed her eyes to think more clearly. "Why it was his...right hand." The crowd gasped and Blue slumped down in his seat, defeated. "Think, Mrs. Wickett and try to be real certain about this. A man is on trial for his life here," urged Blue's attorney. "As he stood facing you, was it his right or your right?" Mrs. Wickett glanced up at him, then stared at Blue.

"Well, let's see. It was...it was...my right." She gasped and went on. "Which would make it his left!" Woodrow Massey smiled victoriously. Blue went limp with relief and Kitty Murphy hugged Buck tightly around the neck and squealed in sheer happiness.

The courtroom erupted in bedlam and Judge Waterman threatened to throw everyone out unless there was immediate order in his courtroom. "Since there seems to be serious doubt as to this young man's guilt," he proclaimed, motioning to Blue, "I've no other choice but to declare this a mistrial. Both men are to be held in jail, however, until all doubt is erased. This courtroom is adjourned."

Things proceeded quickly after that. Mrs. Wickett was now convinced that she had made a mistake in identifying Blue as the murderer and felt that Will Shannon was the true killer of Dave Loggins. Of course, Will Shannon, refused to admit his guilt. Unfortunately for him, he belonged to a gang of disloyal thugs who were none too happy to have suspicion turn to them. One of the gang members, anxious to be leader in Will's place, rode into Tombstone and pointed a finger at Will, whose fate was sealed from that moment on. Blue was finally and truly free.

Kitty sent a message to Blue's hotel room. He was to meet her down in the dining room as she had something of importance to tell him. When Blue came downstairs, he found her waiting for him. She wore a sedate pale green muslin dress with matching hat and there was a valise sitting at her feet. Blue looked at her and the valise, with a puzzled expression. Kitty grasped his hands and pulled him down into the seat beside her. "Yes," she said, excitedly. "I'm going to do it. I'm going home, Blue!" Her green eyes sparkled and her pretty face glowed.

"That's great, Kitty," said Blue. "But what made you change your mind?"

"You did," she exclaimed.

"Me?" croaked Blue.

"Well, indirectly. You see, I was tired of Tombstone. The excitement dulled for me and the fact that you could have been hanged made me heartsick and sick of this town and its people. Your words to me, before all the mess, made me think. You were right, this is no life for a young girl. When your uncle came to your aid and helped you out, without a moment's hesitation; I figured it all out. Now I know that there's nothin' in this world more important than family. I knew I hadn't given my stepfather a chance and that I had been truly awful to him." She looked at him, then lowered her eyes. "There's somethin' else I didn't tell you," she whispered. "When I left Iowa, I borrowed money from my stepfather...Well, most folks would call it 'stealin.' I figured I could never go home after that. Still, I took a chance and sent a telegram and asked to come home. I fully expected to be turned down flat, but he replied right away that both he and Ma wanted me to come home right away and that all was forgiven. My stepfather also wired me money for the stage! Oh, Blue...I'm goin' home! I'm so happy and I have you to thank!" She drew a breath and looked at him. "Oh, look at me...runnin' on and on about myself. What about you; what are you gonna do?"

Blue smiled warmly at her. "First off, I'm glad you're goin' home, Kitty. Tombstone is no place for you. It ain't no place for me, neither, and my uncle and I are headin' out today for home. Folks around here are talkin' to me now, and they think I should stay around and see what Will Shannon has comin' to him, but that wouldn't bring me no pleasure...I was gonna tell you I was leavin,' but you beat me to the punch."

She smiled, "Oh, I'm so glad!"

"Yeah, me too," said Blue. "I'll be happy to see home again after all that's happened lately...Say, when does your stage leave anyway?"

She looked at the clock on the wall. "I'll be leavin' in about fifteen minutes; will you see me off?" Blue nodded and, as they were leaving the hotel, they bumped into Buck who tagged along. When they reached the stage, Blue handed her luggage up to the driver, then turned to say a final farewell to Kitty. She said her good-byes to Buck first. "I almost feel as if you're my uncle, too," she smiled up at him. "Thank heavens you were so observant when you caught up to Will Shannon or I shudder to think what might have happened. Blue is lucky to have you looking out for him."

Buck doffed his hat and kissed her on the cheek. "I'll surely miss you, Miss Kitty, and I'd be proud to call you my niece," he said. "I'd also say Blue is mighty lucky to count you as his friend. I mighta been the one to save his neck, but I wouldn't have had the chance to if you hadn't come for me." Kitty then turned to Blue as the driver called for her to embark. She suddenly panicked, grabbed him about the neck and hugged him fiercely.

"Oh, I will miss you!" she confessed. "I feel as if you were my one and only friend in this town!" Blue smiled at her fondly and stooped to kiss her on the cheek.

"Don't worry," he said. "The world ain't all that big. I have a feelin' we'll see each other again. And thank you, Kitty. I owe you my life." Kitty smiled at him as he helped her into the stage.

Buck called to her, "Have a safe journey, Miss Kitty. If you're ever out this way again, come to see us at the High Chaparral!"

"I'll do that," she said. "If only to tell Mr. John Cannon how lucky he is to have Blue for a son and you for a brother!" Just before the stage could pull out, she continued on. "Good-bye, Mr. Cannon," she said. "Take good care of Blue now, will you?"

Buck winked at her. "I always do now, don't I?" he assured her. The stage pulled out then and Kitty leaned out the window to cry, "Goodbye, Blue, goodbye! Please take care of yourself!" Blue raised his right hand in salute and stood watching her stage until it disappeared around the corner. His smile faded and he turned to his uncle, "Well," he said. "I guess it's time we got back home."

They mounted up and began the long ride home. At first, there was silence between them. Then, suddenly, Blue seemed to feel the need to talk and Buck was content to let him. He started out by saying, "While I was sittin' by myself in jail, I had plenty of time to think. I realized how stupid it was for me to think I could save my neck all on my own. I wanted to prove to everybody I was a man, but now I know that bein' a man means being' smart enough to admit you need help. It means swallowin' your foolish pride and goin' to your family for help if you need to. I wanna thank you, Uncle Buck, for savin' my neck."

"Don't mention it, Blue Boy," said Buck, dismissively. "I reckon that's what uncles are for."

Blue smiled, "Yeah, I guess you've always been good at it. Heaven knows, I've given you plenty of practice. Remember the time, though, when you squealed on me to Pa 'bout me playin' round the old mine? Whew, did Pa wear me out when he found out! I was so mad at you! But after the stingin' of both my backside and my heart went away, I figured you'd only done it 'cause you knew it was for my own good. You told on me, even though you was hurt when I stopped speaking to you."

Blue's confession surprised Buck. "You remembered all that?" Blue nodded and Buck went on, "Well, if that's so, then why was you so all-fired against me tellin' your pa this time?"

Blue smiled. "Oh, I knew you would if you thought it was necessary." Buck looked at his nephew, in surprise, and Blue continued on. "There's somethin' else you don't know about that day. You see, Ethan was with me the day you caught me. He was inside the mine and you never knew. I caught heck, but he never did. 'Course look what became of him. Guess I shoulda figured out that Ethan and mines were a bad combination for me." Blue grew silent and they rode along a little while longer. After about a half hour, Blue spoke again. "Uncle Buck, did I ever tell you how happy I was when you came back to our home in Missouri after the war?"

Buck shook his head and said, "Well, not in so many words, maybe, but I knew."

Blue shook his head and when he spoke again, it seemed like more to himself than his uncle. "When you and Pa went away to the war, it was a bad time for me. I missed both of you somethin' terrible. Then when Pa came back, and you didn't, it was like the world ended for me. Pa wouldn't speak of you and it was almost like you died in the war. I used to think about you a lot and I'd find myself lookin' down the lane, expecting you to appear any time. But, you never did. I never told you 'bout this, but one day I was sittin' in the kitchen of our farm house and I was singin' the words to 'Dixie.' That song always reminded me of you 'cause you was always singin' it before you went away. It made me feel closer to you, somehow...Any way, I was singin' at the table when Pa walked in from outside. He took one look at me, heard what I was singin' and he got madder than I'd ever seen him. Scared me half to death to see him like that! 'Don't you ever let me catch you singing that song again!" he yelled. "What were you thinking? Don't you know what it means?' I felt like my heart had dropped clear down to my toes, the way he yelled at me. I was a big boy, nearly nine-years-old, and I tried so hard not to cry. But I couldn't help it, he scared me so bad! I ran up the stairs to my room and I heard Ma givin' him heck. 'He's just a little boy,' she said. 'How could he know what that song means? He always used to hear Buck singing it around the house before the war. He's even heard you sing it a time or two. After all, John, you were born in Virginia and that song used to bring pleasant memories to you!'

I threw myself across my bed and I cried. I thought about what Ma had said to Pa and it surprised me. You know Ma hardly ever said nothin' against Pa. It wasn't long before Pa came upstairs and sat down besides me on my bed. I felt him rub my back and when I looked up at him, he actually looked sorry. He even apologized to me...me! He said he'd acted hastily and that he shouldn't have yelled at me like that. Pa said he was taken aback when he heard me singin' the words to 'Dixie.' He explained that the war had been very terrible and he didn't like to be reminded of it. Pa also said that 'Dixie' reminded him of you. It was then that I knew he missed you as bad as I did. I never did sing 'Dixie' again within earshot of Pa. And when you finally did walk up that dirt lane, I think it was the happiest day of my life..." Buck stared at Blue. He had never known about this and, touched, he could not speak. They rode along a while longer and then it was Buck's turn to break the silence.

"There's one thing you didn't tell me, Blue Boy. What'd you do with the Wide Missouri Mine?"

"Oh, that," said Blue, shrugging. "I gave it away."

"You gave it away?!" exclaimed his uncle. "But why? To who?"

"I gave it to Mrs. Loggins," explained Blue. "I figured it was the least I could do, now that she's got four little children dependin' on her."

"Well, that was real nice of you, Blue Boy," said Buck. "Too bad it ain't worth much."

Blue looked at his uncle over his shoulder. Reaching inside his vest pocket, he extracted something and threw it to Buck. "Here, catch!"

Buck reached up, in surprise, and looked at the thing he had caught in his hand. It was a silver nugget, roughly the size of a small egg. His eyes bugged out and Blue laughed at his expression.

"Found that one the very day Ethan was shot. I know there's plenty more where that come from. Mrs. Loggins and her kids need it a lot more than I do. I got the High Chaparral, after all. I only kept that nugget to pay off my expenses and put away a little for my troubles. 'Sides, I don't want Pa throwin' the last few months in my face!"

"If you don't beat all..." exclaimed Buck. "Say, speakin' of your pa, are you ever gonna tell his what happened to you in Tombstone?"

"Maybe," said Blue. Maybe one day in the distant future, I'll tell him. I gotta wait for him to be in a good mood and you know how rare that is!"

Buck looked at the nugget in his hand and back at Blue. He chuckled, slid his hat off of his head, scratched his chin and exclaimed, "Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle!"

Blue threw his head back and laughed out loud. "Well, if you're a monkey's uncle, what's that make me?"

Buck grinned and looked fondly at Blue. "I guess I done brought you up good, after all!"

Blue grinned back, just as fondly and said, "Remind me to thank you for that some day!" Then, turning serious, he continued. "While I was sittin' and thinkin' in that jail cell in Tombstone, I figured out why Pa and I are always arguin' so much!"

Buck arched one eyebrow, "Oh, yeah?" he asked. "And just why is that, after all?"

"Well," replied Blue. "It's 'cause you and I are so much alike." Buck, knowing this wasn't entirely true, was pleased all the same. "How ya figure that?"

Blue smiled, mischievously, and said, "Oh, I'll let you figure that one out on your own!" And, with that, Blue nudged Soapy and broke into a run, which resulted in Buck's being covered with dust. Spitting out the rocks thrown up by Soapy's hooves, Buck grimaced and sputtered, "Why that little...!" He wiped the trail dirt out of his eyes and started to fume. "Just wait 'til I get my hands on him..." Then, looking up, he smiled as he finally figured out what Blue had meant about them being so alike. Throwing back his head, he let out a loud belly laugh and began to chase after his nephew. "Hey, Blue Boy! Wait for me!" he yelled, as they followed the trail back to the High Chaparral and the home they both loved so well.

THE END

Dedicated to Cameron Mitchell and to the "Uncle Buck" we all wished for growing up – to stand in our corners, cheer us on, and believe in our dreams. We thank you, Mr. Mitchell, and we miss you.