Pre-Spirk/Spirk: Summary: Spock said it all stiffly; it was hard to relate to another that he was less than stable, less than in complete control.
Lost Horse Creek, Montana
"When you are lonely, let me be your companion. When you are tired, let me carry the load. When you need to learn, let me teach you… after all, I am your horse."
-Unknown
Chapter Two: Pedigree
"It's not your blue blood, youre pedigree or your college degree. It's what you do with your life that counts."
-Millard Fuller
…
Native Sky Ranch
124 Flathead Road,
Lost Horse Creek, Bitterroot Mountain Range, County, Montana
Stardate: 2260
September 18
0945 Hours
"Illogical."
Jim's hands stilled for the first time, like someone taking a breath after a long winded speech. It was only a heartbeat before they snapped back into action. Weaving words and speaking in a voiceless language that Spock had never encountered before.
This new language of signs, the unspoken whispers of a barely feral, ancient tongue that bubbled under Jim's skin and flowed raw off horses… when had Jim Kirk become a master of languages without voices…
"What do you mean 'illogical'?" Jim asked, his hands signing each word.
"Disabilities such as deafness are non-existent among civilized human society. The last reported case of medical deafness, circa Stardate 2173, was during the still developmental stages of the Villhurt Pre-Natal Exams, the now mandatory series of tests that isolate and correct such flaws invetro. Accidental deafness is easily restored through minor noninvasive surgery. Modern medicine does not allow for deafness in the human race." Spock straightened and folded his hands behind his back, higher than normal along his spine and hindered by the traveler's duffle hung from his shoulder.
Jim had gone very still. The petite woman, Cody Chicalato, cast a silent look between them; her eyebrows raised. She wove a few words with her hands but Jim ignored her.
The young captain's hands lifted and carded into his hair, digging in at his temples.
"Wait… wait, what?"
"Furthermore how do you explain her response to my summons at the door? I knocked. If she truly is deaf then there should have been no response at all. There fore your assessment is illogical. By both demonstration and medical fact she cannot be deaf."
"Cannot be deaf." Jim responded, his voice flat and emotionless.
Internally, Spock flinched and mentally backtracked, reliving the words he'd just cast out towards the young man. Spock knew, and hoped that Jim knew, that the words were fact. Not meant to cause intentional aggravation to what Spock knew was a still unsettled young man.
But if Jim was being manipulated and lied to Spock would put an end to it.
"Bones took this better than you."
Spock fiercely denied that the coolly spoken statement felt like a barb.
Before the First Officer could respond, Cody snapped her fingers and Jim's attention instantly whipped to her. Completely focused and attentive.
Cody's hands twisted and drew in the air before settling on her hips. Spock resisted the urge to ask for a translation.
Jim's hands started to move as he spoke. "He doesn't think you can be deaf."
Cody breathed out loudly through her nose and rolled her eyes at Jim, her hands made a short string of signs that didn't end before Jim cut her off with his voice and own string of signs. The movement of his fingers and wrists sharp and fast, almost harsh. As if he was shouting in signs while his voice stayed low and calm.
"I know you deal with it all the time. Doesn't matter. I'm sick of it."
Cody's hands flashed, signing smoothly and evenly when Jim's hands seemed almost jerky.
"I'm not freaking out." Jim's signing seemed to have taken on a sharper edge.
Cody signed back her response.
"Because this is different!" Jim's voice rose even as his hands jerked and twisted in obvious anger.
Cody made a single, calm design with her hands.
Jim blinked and stilled again. "Why?" He asked… or repeated. He'd translated the single sign in his repition in speech, his hands without animation.
Cody nodded, reading Jim's lips instead of his hands.
Jim paused and in his hesitation Cody wove a new string of signs for him to read off the backs of her hands and curve of her palms.
Jim's reaction to this silent testimony caused an ugly tightening in Spock's gut and his teeth ground together. Now more than ever he wanted this sherade to end. The offending, petite woman needed to break her silence.
Jim's chest collapsed, tension and air flowing out of him in a single shuddering breath. The young captain even seemed to deflated in size, he shut his eyes and mumbled something under his breath that even Spock's sharp hearing couldn't pick up but the undertone of foreign words.
Jim shook his head, his short, blonde hair shagging in the movement before calloused hands slid into the strands and brushed them haphazardly back. While Jim did not relax he'd obviously calmed outwardly and internally.
Cody started to make a string of signs and Jim held up his hands in a placating way.
"Alright, alright… I get it." He sighed, signing the last three words smoothly and much slower than he had only seconds before. The young captain hesitated before looking to his First Officer.
"Spock, listen… it's had to believe I know-"
"It's an impossibility Jim. Medicine does not allow for it. Doctor McCoy could vouch similarly." Spock seized the chance to defend himself, the tension across his shoulders ratcheting even tighter.
"Spock, impossibilities and documentation and all that other medicinal bullshit doesn't change the fact that Cody's deaf." Jim returned, his hands taking on turning his words into signs.
Spock felt a gentle tug on his sleeve and barely restrained himself from jerking away from Cody's hand. He narrowed his eyes and fixed the petite woman with a sharp look. Before he could peak or pull his attention away Cody's hands started too form the fluid, sweeps and carvings of signs in the air.
Jim's voice made Spock look in his direction once as the young captain lent his speech to the signs, translating as Cody communicated.
"'I was born deaf. There was something wrong with the wiring in my brain but fixing it would have killed me. My parents didn't like it but there had been deaf warriors in our tribe's history before and let it be. Since I was ten every time a doctor catches wind about me there is a surgery offer thrown on the table. I always refuse.'"
"The illogical nature of this situation did not seem able to deepen and yet it has."
As soon as Spock spoke Jim's hands snapped into movement, drawing the signs for Spock's words so Cody could understand. Spock found the arrangement awkward and undesirable. In all his time and interaction before and during his enlistment in Starfleet Spock had never needed a translator, he had always been able to master a language in a few days time. To have to stand aside and wait for his words to reach the object of his conversation and to wait for a response was a blow to the pride that the half-Vulcan refused himself.
But he pressed on, his voice tightening marginally as Jim's hands continued to move. "If these statements are true then why refuse the medical procedure that would make your life whole and attribute to your species in stead of a disfigured existence."
When Jim's hands stilled a slight, almost saddened smile crossed Cody's lips and she made a few short signs to Jim, who promptly returned in silent sign.
"Jim-"
"She asked what your pedigree was, Spock. I told her Vulcan and human." Jim said out loud as Cody started to sign again. Jim waited a minute until Cody stopped signing before looking at Spock and paraphrasing what she had communicated instead of a direct translation.
"She said that if it was more convenient and easier for your nature that someone offered to surgically change your genetic makeup to entirely human, would you?"
"No." Spock replied instantly, his breath almost catching in a bubble in his throat as he spoke and Jim signed the response in a sharp, harsh movement that betrayed the emotion behind it.
Jim and Cody affixed him with quiet and contemplative looks, allowing the half-Vulcan to process what had been laid out before and prompted from him.
Spock dipped his head, casting his eyes downwards as he spoke next.
"Jim, I believe I have developed a bad habit of underestimating and judging the company you keep prematurely and without adequate observation and interaction. My behavior has been unfounded and illogical."
"I'll chalk it up to you being cranky." Jim assured. "You look like Hell, are you alright?"
"My status is less than optimal. I believe I have been 'through an ordeal', in common human terminology."
"Yeah, looks like." Jim carefully reached out a lifted Spock's left hand to inspect the slightly dirt smudged bandage wrapped around his wrist. The First Officer tensed, allowing Jim to turn his hand over and look the wound over entirely. The press of flesh on flesh sent an unnerving hum lapping up Spock's arm. He faintly recognized the whispered chattered of the ancient language that was a constant thrum under Jim's skin. Spock compared it to the raw ferality of it that he'd encountered with the blue roan mare. The thin thread tied into his core pulsed in recognition as Spock felt the faint and clouded brush of Jim's mind near his. The young captain either unaware or uncaring of Spock's nature as a touch telepath. It did not help the ginger and reverent way Jim handled him. The young man's touch was feather light and gentle, as if he felt or knew that Spock was liable to bolt.
It occurred to Spock that their positions had turned, at least for the moment. Instead of Spock treading lightly and gently coaxing Jim into relaxing from a seemingly eternal struggle to run Jim was the one trying to sooth and assure Spock from reacting.
"Your skin's kind of cool Spock." Jim observed with a tinge of concern. The half-Vulcan repressed a shudder as the reminder brought back the slow growing ice around his core, the sluggish cold cutting into him.
"My biology requires a warmer temperature than Montana is offering climate wise at the moment."
Jim made a gruff noise of disapproval.
Cody stood aside and watched the interaction silently, her eyebrows raised, she was able to read Jim's lips and get his half of the conversation but was otherwise left out. She waited until Jim let go of Spock's wrist before drawing a few signs in the air to get attention and make a suggestion.
Jim sighed, letting air out of his chest slowly and with a kind of congestion that sounded like exhaustion manifested.
"Cody wants to clean you and Nemo A534 up a little, get something in your stomachs then you can kip out in one of the guest rooms."
After he spoke Cody continued another string of signs and hesitated for Jim to relay them.
"If that's what you want."
Spock passed a look between Cody and Jim, the young captain seemed to easily read the expression though Spock was sure it had been a mask of neutrality.
"Cody's not in the habit of bending the nature and will of another creature to fit her wants." Jim explained. "You can refuse if you want."
"I see no reason not to accept the course of events with only the added prospect of a longer, more in dept discussion after I have had adequate time to meditate and collect myself."
Spock said it all stiffly; it was hard to relate to another that he was less than stable, less than in complete control. Jim cast a look at Spock for the admission but said nothing, relaying Spock's words to Cody, who agreed with a nod and a slight smile.
"Jim."
The young man turned his attention fully to the half-Vulcan.
"I have observed that… Cody responses to you even at times when you are not…"
"Signing?"
"Yes. And as you said she could not understand me when I spoke to her alone."
"She can't read your lips, Spock. The muscles of your face don't move enough for her to understand what you're saying."
Spock though for a moment. If he was to believe that Cody was in fact deaf then the logic of Jim's explanation made sense. "Very well."
"And Canteska heard you knock."
Spock raised and eyebrow and Jim indicated the albino German Shepherd still sitting in the open doorway.
"Canteska heard you and alerted Cody to come to the door. That's why she came when you knocked."
Spock hesitated a moment before thinking back on the behavior of Nemo A534, who at the moment was sitting to the side, weight off his injured leg and head hanging.
"That is plausible." Spock agreed again.
"Trust me on this, Spock. Cody's deaf. No doubt about it."
Trust.
A majorly one sided issue between them. Jim had turned over his trust to Spock, a 'different kind of trust' McCoy had said at one point. It had been done carefully and slowly, tentative of Spock's reaction. Jim was offering him a chance to return some of that trust.
Spock only nodded in response and felt the fledgling bond between them strengthen slightly when Jim offered a small smile in return.
Spock nearly flinched when a small, but strong hand slid across his shoulder and under the strap of his traveling duffle and lifted it effortlessly from his collar. Cody shrugged the weight on to her own shoulder and stepped back to hold the screen door open wider for Spock and Jim to pass through first.
The latter turned and carefully scooped his hands under Nemo A534's stomach and chest. Jim lifted the dog easily up into his arms and preceded Spock into the ranch home. The albino German Shepherd pushing awkwardly to his feet and trotting in a head of them.
Spock hesitated to show Cody his back but followed dutifully on Jim's heels into the front hall of the ranch home, then through the left open doorway of the hall. The screen swung shut with a crack as Cody brought up the rear lugging Spock's duffle.
The half-Vulcan took the time to look around, casting his eyes over furniture and ornamentation on selves, walls and tables.
The raw wood of the log home invaded inwards. The flooring was scarred and scratched hardwood, broken up only by the small, circular heads of nails and the edges of rugs.
The room directly off the main hall must have been a den or common room. A large plush sofa and two plush loveseats of a dusty red suede formed a curve around a large, low to the floor coffee table made of stained hardwood and the main feature of the room a massive, pane of solid glass that looked out on the drive and front yard. The room opened again into an even larger doorless frame, next to it was a set of stairs and a low, wooden railing that led up to the second floor and on the far side of the stairs was a short hall that led deeper into the gut of the ranch home's first floor. Pushed against the wall of the stairs was a narrow, long table of similar structure to the coffee table. It sported a large, squat terra cotta pot and singular, fat barrel cactus, a large metal sculpture molded into a Native American rider and his pony in the low headed, mourning pose commonly known as 'End of the Trail' and series of small metal dishes that cradled rounded honey colored candles. Stretched out under the three plush seats the coffee table was a floor rug that had an alternating patter of brown, white and the same russet color of the furniture.
Spock felt his eyes widen slightly at the far wall of the room. The wall was floor to ceiling a unit of shelves that supported a small library of hard backed books. The spines of all heights and widths, some marked with fine black, silver or gold lettering of titles and authors. The multitude of colors created a mosaic that filled the entire wall. The words 'horse' and 'native' and 'war' leapt out at Spock a number of times as he did a quick sweep of the seemingly pristine collection of antique books.
Very suddenly the comparatively small collection Jim kept with him made sense.
The three other caramel colored walls were decorated with bits of horse tack. Bridles and bits hung decoratively along side large framed photographs.
Most of the photographs were monochromatic shades of black, white and gray. Some were cracked and fading with age and others were sleek and glossy as if taken within the last few weeks. Which Spock found nearly impossible to comprehend as the art of still frame photography had been a dead practice as nearly as long as books had been.
So, logically, from experience and observation of the behavior and habits of Jim and those he kept company, it was very possible that the photographs were taken within the last few weeks.
Most of the framed pictures sported the themes of horses, some standing as if wild and others tacked and waiting patiently next to a rider, male or female. A few had the classic images of cowboys and a few others the images of Native American's, young and old, sporting ceremonial dress. Still other photographs were landscapes, some rolling desert and others sharp edges of mountains and plateau prairies.
Smaller photographs in small, standing frames dotted the shelves of books, the faces of strangers looked out with grins and bright eyes from next to trucks and horses and fences lines.
There was a fair number of photographs hung on the walls and standing freely, enough so that Spock was certain the theme would continue throughout the house. A glance up the stairs and down the hall next to them as he passed them confirmed his theory as a series of frames and tack was hung along the wall to the top of the staircase and down to the end of the short hallway.
Spock followed on the heels of Jim and Canteska as the path moved through the den into a large airy room that could only be a kitchen.
The floor was hewn terra cotta stone tiles. The line of waist high cabinets and hung cupboards of honey colored wood were accented and topped with the same red brown stone. A stainless steel stink and faucet was sunk under a large window over looking the side yard. Set into the cabinets below was a large square of stainless steel that sported a series of buttons across a black strip at the top. On section of the counter top was a large slab of the same silver metal, sporting four large burners and below the stovetop was the metal and glass door of an oven. Set into the far wall was another doorway. The heavy, wide oaken door swung open and the screen door closed. Next to the door a small alcove like room was occupied on one side by two large, square appliances, wicker baskets full of clothing to launder and along the other wall a collection of muddy boots, coats of all different weights, sizes and uses hung on a line of rusted metal hooks and a top shelf that was piled with baseball caps and the classic shapes of Stetson cowboy hats.
The only fixtures in the room was a large, scarred wooden table. It's honey colored surface marred by scratches, gouges and stains. Four matching chairs were pulled into place on each side and a three legged stool was pushed against the wall next to it. A few feet away from the table was a refrigeration unit of the same stainless steel that was six feet tall, nearly thee feet wide and boasted a set of double doors.
The lingering scent of cooked food, dust, sweat both human and animal and spiced honey hung in the air.
All around the room were little ceramic pots housed small growing plants, some looked like herbs and other just aesthetically pleasing. The wall above the table was hung with a piece of decorative art that looked like rusted metal cut into the shape of galloping horses and next to it was a large, framed map of Montana. A few slips of paper scribbled with hand writing were anchored to the doors of the refrigeration unit with magnets. In a far corner was a large stainless steel bowl that was filled to the brim with water and around it four other bowls that were empty.
Next to the bowls was a large, plump pillow that was tan on the bottom and the top a tough fabric with a woven design of russet, brown and cream.
Draped across the plump pillow was a plump dog. The animal's head shot up as Spock entered the room and let out a sharp bark.
"Quit." Jim snapped at the dog and it's head dropped back to it's paws.
This dog was considerably smaller than Canteska and Nemo A534. It couldn't have stood much taller than a foot on it's short legs, a long, low to the ground body was made of thick muscle. A large head with even larger ears sported inquisitive and wide brown eyes. The dogs coat was tawny gold with marking of white across its throat, legs, underbelly and narrow muzzle. The animal was missing a tail entirely.
This dog had the same leather collar of the other two dogs and plate of identification metal screwed into place.
Spock refrained from asking about the squat animal and instead placed his good hand lightly on the thick ruff fur of Nemo A534's neck as Jim ducked over to a cabinet, opened it and pulled out a large wooden box. He hefted the object as if it weighted a considerable amount then fluidly stood and moved back to the table. He set the box own in a small open space near Nemo A534's tail and flipped it open to reveal the contents of the box were entirely medical. Thick rolls of gauze and cloth bandaging. An assorted number of jars and bottles filled with pills, colored liquids or pastes. There was an interchangeable hypospray but next to it was an assortment of syringes and needles. A small clear container was occupied by a roll of surgical thread and several needles of varying size.
Jim ducked back across the kitchen to pull a large ceramic bowl down from a shelf and filled it in the sink with steaming water and grabbed a small towel off the counter top next to the sink before striding back to Spock and injured dog's side.
"Nemo A534 was seen by a certified veterinarian in Hamilton." Spock made the statement almost half heartedly.
"No doubt." Jim agreed without looking at the First Officer. "Still want to get a good look at it."
Spock hesitated before speaking again. "I'm afraid I was unable to administer adequate care and handling while Nemo A534 was in my possession. I am sorry to both you and the animal for that incompetence."
Jim flicked his eyes up when Spock mentioned the dog in the apology. He didn't smile but straightened up and lightly laid a hand over Spock's shoulder, he gave a slight squeeze and sent a new ripple of humming energy through the layer of clothing to pool over the First Officer's skin. Spock waited for the young captain to weave some compassionate and assuring lie about Nemo A534's condition not being as terrible as Spock thought it was or that Spock had done the best he was able.
"Thanks, Spock." Jim said quietly before pulling his hand back. Spock cocked his head and lifted an eyebrow but before he could inquire the response Jim was shoved back by a small, sure hand. Spock's duffle was slung unceremoniously over Jim's shoulder as Cody pushed him out of the way and towards the archway back to the den. Her hands flew in a few drawn signs before she nudged Spock's hand away from Nemo A534's throat, stroked the dog once and set to work, soaking the cloth in hot water and gently wiping away the orange burn salve spread over the dog's injury.
"C'mon." Jim gently coaxed Spock away from the petite woman and led Spock from the room to a sharp turn down the short hall, passed framed photographs and tack, to the first door. It was slight a jar and Jim pushed it open slightly.
"My bathroom." Jim explained when gave a slight, one shouldered shrug. "Technically it's the guest bathroom but it's just me and Cody and the animals up here most of the time so I take it over."
Jim stood back to allow Spock to investigate before moving away to collect a few items from a narrow closet a little further down the hall.
The room was large enough for two adults to maneuver easily. The floor and most of the walls were tiled with a mosaic of terra cotta, red and coffee ceramic squares. The painted stucco wall was caramel colored. A large mirror was mounted over a short counter top of terra cotta stone and a red ceramic sink and faucet. The counter had a dark, hardwood base that sported two cabinet doors at the height of Spock's waist. Next to the sink and counter was a toilet made of red dyed porcelain. The same color and material extended to a large, deep tub occupying the far wall, an opaque curtain was drawn back to show off the silver faucet and showerhead mounted on the wall. A shelf hung opposite the showerhead was laden with bars of soap, bottles of shampoo, wash cloths and spongy loofas.
There was a wicker waste basket in one corner and next to it a larger, open wicker basket that had a pile of dirty clothes.
A small red rug was stretched across the tiled floor and russet towels were draped over a slim, silver rack mounted on the wall. An assortment of toothpaste and brushes, a razor, brush, bar of red soap and a few other items for hygienic use were set up around the edge of the sink bowl. Mounted on the wall over the towel rack was a single, black and white photograph that was a foot an a half tall and three feet wide. It sported a picture of a pool of water and a pebbly beach but in the pool was a single horse, chest deep and caught mid splash. The edges of the glass mirror were occupied by small snapshots and stuck with some kind of temporary adhesive. A few of the small photographs were color.
The images of Nemo A534 and another black and silver German Shepherd were predominant, as well as a couple of ones centered around horses. Spock was a little surprised to see a few of members of Jim's crew aboard the Enterprise. There was one that was hard to decipher that looked as if Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott had taken a photograph of himself with it nose pressed against the lens. In another Ensign Chekov Pavel Andreovitch and Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu grinned from over the bridge navigation and pilot consol. A line of red shirt Security members posed over the edge of a catwalk in the engine deck, the photograph looked as if it had been taken from the floor below. A similar posed picture had been taken of the collected medical staff in the sickbay. A photograph of Doctor Leonard McCoy in the midst of scrubbing up for surgery and had a look on his face that it was clear the photographer was not supposed to be there to take the picture. There was a quiet and candid photograph of Lieutenant Nyota Uhura and surprising Spock himself as the pair poured over a datapad in an observation room. Spock had no memory of the picture being taken by anyone. Spock studied the assortment of personal snapshots stuck to the mirror, his eyes continuing to move back to the one of himself and Uhura as well as cast his eyes over the small room. The half-Vulcan was too used to the small confines of a sonic shower that this whole room seemed alien to him.
Jim slid into the door way and held out two fluffy white towels, wash cloth and wrapped bar of soap. "Here. All clean and new and stuff. You can take a shower but you might want to have a soak instead. Hot water should warm you up and I'll look around and see if I can't find a sweater or something to keep your temperature up. We just started pulling out the winter gear."
Jim slid the duffle from his shoulder and set it on the floor next to the sink cabinets.
"Thank you, Jim." Spock said quietly.
The young man shrugged. "Just don't total it in here. You can dump you dirty stuff in the hamper and when you're done the next room down is a guest room. Leave your duffel there and come back to the kitchen. Try and keep your wrist out of the water."
Jim closed the door after him and Spock heard the foot steps echo before fading into the kitchen. Spock stood still for a moment before in his solitude letting out a single shuddering breath. As he set to work to create a show for himself, stripping of the dirty traveling clothes and turning the hot water on the half-Vulcan pondered over Jim's appearance both physically and the mannerisms that gave way his mental state.
The young captain had, in the short time apart, become somewhat standoffish. He did not look Spock in the eye easily and quickly looked away when he did. His temper had been far too short and quick when Spock had made his argument against Cody's disability. Spock remembered a Jim Kirk that listened intently and waited for the entirety of an opponent's argument before quietly and calmly making his own debate.
Jim had seemed stiff, his muscles tight but he hands far too busy signing to fidget as they normally did. His jaw had seemed permanently locked and stiff as he spoke and when Jim's flesh made contact with his own the hum and pressure of the other man was different.
The few times during their deployment that their flesh had met Spock had been brushed by a feeling of a tightly controlled and repressed ferality, the thrum of the ancient language buried under a secure surface of reason and stead fast determination and self control. The emotions had seemed fleeting, strong but only the slightest registers here and there, over shadowed by a passionate, protective nature and the faint, bitter taste of some personal horror had lingered at the edges. Through it all, like Jim's natural state, the brush of Jim's mind and self had been quiet. There were others that Spock had crossed whose entire being screamed and roared in a deafening pitch, as if they were internally terrified of never being heard. And in Spock's experience he had never met a human whose being did not at least have a level of chatter.
Jim's was near silent, more like a pulse or a pressure, a literal feeling of existence instead of a claim to one.
That was before Jim had come to Native Sky, in their time apart the brush of Jim's self in the skin to skin contact had not drastically changed but the layer of self control and repression between his conscious being and the feral nature brewing beneath had thinned and weakened some. The whispers of that silent language had been louder and even in the brief contact of their hands the pressure had been greater and threaded deeper into Spock than it had before.
He was unsure of it was because Jim's state had altered severely or that the thin thread of the language that had taken up residence in Spock's core had recognized its origin in Jim and reacted enough to cause a difference.
Spock would have to make a further inquiry to pin point the exactness of the change. But the rock in Spock's gut, the thing he would not call 'worry' pushed against him, nudging Spock's intuition into belief that Jim was still unsettled. It pushed at him to a determination that with his presence now made, Spock would set things back in order.
The First Officer went against Jim's advice of a soaking bath, the scalding hot water gushing from the shower head was sufficient. He didn't intend to linger long but it did become difficult to keep his injured wrist from under the spray. The heated water was a comfort, while the feeling of water itself was alien it brutally chased away the sluggish, disquieting cold that had steadily sunk into Spock's core. The sloughed off the dirt and grit of the hard journey to the ranch along with the cold. Spock stood still for some time under the spray, allowing it to sink in and warm him completely. The scald of the heat enough to bring a slight green flush to the half-Vulcan's skin.
Some of the tension drained away as taught muscles relaxed under the heat and Spock found his breathing deepening to a sedated pace as he categorized the different texture and behavior of the water over the different planes of his skin. Spock tilted his head back and allowed a mouthful of the liquid to slide, nearly burning, down his throat and settle in his belly.
Spock was brought back to himself when he shifted and a spark of pain flew up his arm to his spine when his injured wrist was flecked by the water. The First Officer quickly and efficiently striped the new bar of soap scrubbed himself without causing too much discomfort in his wrist and shut the water off. He toweled himself dry and retrieved fresh clothing from his duffle.
Fully dressed Spock exited the bathroom with a final look at the now steam filled mirror and the snapshots bordering it. Spock turned sharply to walk down to the last door on the left of the hall. He glanced at the photographs and tack hung on the wall and he pushed the door open carefully before stepping in.
The theme of earth tones and red were carried on here.
The room was large enough for the queen sized bed pushed against the far wall under a massive window. The bed spread was a light tawny and red. A small mountain of pillows and plush comforter was a change from the slightly uncomfortable beds of Starfleet used in their dormitories and ships as well as the stiff palates typical of Vulcan culture. The hardwood floor was broken by a large rug of tightly woven material that was a light brown. There was a small bedside table supporting a lamp with a red shade. A small desk was pushed to one side with a straight backed chair and on the other side of the wall was a large plush chair that looked to be a brother of the russet set in the common room. A slim table was flush against a wall next to a wood door leading to a small closet.
The caramel colored walls were decorated with a few items. A simple clock, there was color photograph of a mountain side in Montana on the edge of autumn, the foliage of the picture was reds and golds. A few other photographs were mounted around the room but oddly enough they were not typical pictures of horses, the animal theme had changed. A large metal sculpture on the slim table was in the design of a bull elk. The antlers sweeping over its back, large ears perked and alert. Around it were shallow metal dishes supporting honey and red colored candles. The other black and white photographs show images of bull elk, standing in tall grasses and brush.
It was more than suitable and Spock eased his duffle down onto the edge of the bed before stepping back out, following the short hall to the kitchen.
Spock noticed that the air of the home had warmed slightly. When passing the common room Spock glanced around and notice immediately that the windows had been pulled shut, possibly the doors and it was clear that the thermostat had been turned up.
Spock felt a small pulse of warmth in this stomach, his bubbled and threatened to rise towards his throat. The half-Vulcan didn't encourage the warmth to expand, but he didn't repress it either. He stepped into the kitchen, his boots thudding on the terra cotta tiles.
The warmth in his stomach collapsed in on itself and the familiar bitterness of failure took its place.
Nemo A534 was stretched out on his uninjured side in the middle of the floor, ribs rising and falling evenly but a whispered whine slipped out on each exhale. His one eye was shut tight to match the empty socket. The burn wound had been cleaned up, the salve reapplied and then wrapped securely with cloth bandaging.
Jim was sitting cross legged on the floor next to the dog, his calloused hands moving from nose tip to the base of Nemo A534's tail in smooth, slow strokes. Cerulean yes were fixed on the dog, brimming with an unshed sorrow that it wrenched at Spock for causing any more aggravation to his captain and pain to the dog.
"It's not your fault." Jim said quietly, not looking up from the German Shepherd. Nemo A534's ears perked forward at his voice and the one eye opened and settled on Spock. The dog let out a tired whine before his tail lifted once to slap the floor in an exhausted wag.
Spock didn't respond, looking from Jim to the dog.
"I recognized the bruise pattern on your arm… had it myself a couple of time. He got hurt trying to save you, didn't he?"
Spock straightened a little and reflexively settled his hands into the small of his back. "The details of the event are unclear but I believe that you deduction, coinciding with mine, is correct."
He purposefully kept his voice low, trying to match the same acoustic level of the young man at his feet.
"Good."
Spock stilled, waiting for some kind of explanation.
"He was doing what he was trained to do… Nemo A534, he used to be a search and rescue dog for the State Police. They retired him when he lost his eye and Cody was able to pick him up through a connection… instead of, you know, letting them euthanise him." Jim didn't look up at Spock as he spoke. "I don't think he minds being a cattle dog but it's probably not as exciting as his job used to be. Sometimes he gets a chance to help someone but he just forgets that he's getting a little old for that kind of stuff. That he's getting slower." Jim's hand passed lightly over the bandaged shoulder.
"May I inquire-"
"He's six."
"This is old for a dog?"
"Yeah. He's got a hero complex that makes me crazy half the time but I'm grateful that he had it to get you out of harms way."
The warmth in Spock's gut threatened to return as he steadied himself to reply but was interrupted.
He glanced away from Jim towards the kitchen door when it swung open and Cody slipped through dusting her hands across the thighs of her jeans, tucked under one arm was a bundle of thick cloth. As she stepped into the room the albino German Shepherd, Canteska, and the short legged, sable and white dog followed behind. The Shepherd crossed the room in stiff, old steps to curl up under the table and the plump, little dog stayed happily on Cody's heels, the tip of his tailess rump wriggling slightly. Cody glanced up and offered a small smile to Spock and she took a few strides towards the half-Vulcan and offered the bundle.
Spock carefully took it out of her hands and shook out the fabric. It was a soft and thickly knit sweater of a mottled grayish blue color, plain and relatively large in size. There were a few bits of grass or hay or straw stuck to the fabric that Spock easily brushed off.
Spock glanced at Cody and she made a few signs. The half-Vulcan waited until she was done before glancing at Jim.
"She said that this'll have to do until she can pull all of Casper's stuff out." Jim explained. "Casper's the only one that's got clothes that'll fit you Spock. You're too tall and long limbed for the rest of us."
Spock looked back at Cody and carefully tried to force the muscles in his face to react more as he said 'Thank you'.
He must have made an odd expression because one of Cody's eyebrows lifted and she made a slight face in return.
"Spock."
The First Officer glanced down at Jim. The young man lifted one of his hands, keeping it flat touched the tips of his fingers to his chin before dropping and turning it to expose his palm in Spock's direction.
"That's 'thank you' in ASL." Jim explained as he settled his hand back on Nemo A534's neck.
Spock lifted his eyes back to Cody, who met his gaze steadily. Spock carefully repeated the sign that Jim had demonstrated.
Cody immediately smiled and nodded before stepping back towards the stove top and oven were there was a shallow pan and a metal kettle simmering on heat. Next to it was a large bowl that looked to be full of some kind of batter.
Spock fingered the thick sweater in his hands. "I expect you asked her to find this for me."
"Actually as soon as I mentioned you were cold she ditched me to go through the stuff to fit you." Jim shrugged one shoulder. "She's knows about as much as I do about Vulcans… mostly because I pass on what ever you teach me."
Spock raised an eyebrow in question at Jim.
"Nothing embarrassing, I promise." Jim fluidly pushed himself up from the floor and motioned for Spock to sit at the table. The First Officer complied and settled himself into one of the chairs. The sensation of sitting almost felt odd. It had been a long time since he'd sat.
The plump, short legged dog trotted over to sniff at Nemo A534 then moved to Jim's side and tilted his head back so far his rump connected with the floor, then the little dog had to stand up on hind legs before he could see Spock to his satisfaction. The little dog gave a woof, dropped back to his paws and ambled back to Cody's heel.
"What sort of dog is that?" Spock couldn't help but ask, he'd never seen the breed before. The half-Vulcan had only recognized the German Shepherd breed as they were a world wide, praised working dog for military and police. Jim twisted to look over his shoulder.
"Welsh Corgi." Jim said absently, but even with his attention focused on getting to the injury he could not stop himself from praising the animal. "Couldn't tell from looking at him but Situpsa over there is a pretty bad ass herding dog. Just as good as the Shepherds. Different breeds, same instincts and purposes."
Situpsa had turned at the sound of his name, cocked his head and let out a little bark before turning his attention fully back to Cody.
Jim went for Spock's left arm before the Vulcan could offer it. The brush of skin on skin brought the thrumming sensation of Jim's mind into slight focus. It pulsed slightly next to Spock's own consciousness. Having had time to contemplate the difference of Jim's state of mind Spock probed gently back as the slight intrusion, intending to verify the severity of the alteration.
While not much else had changed since Spock examined the mental signature from Jim's careful inspection of his hand on the porch, Jim's self was quieter than it had been. It wasn't the near silence that Spock had become accustomed to on the Enterprise, but it was significantly quieter.
It put Spock at ease, just slightly.
The young captain pushed up Spock's sleeve, crinkling and disrupting the crisp crease that had been there. Once the sleeve was bunched uncomfortably at Spock's elbow Jim lifted a knife from the table top, next to the medicinal kit. The blade was short and wide, silver and flashed with a few engravings in the metal. The hilt looked as if it had been made of hewn down bone. Spock tensed slightly as Jim slipped the tip of the blade under his dirt smudged bandage. The cool of the silver pressing into Spock's pulse and vein, sending an invisible shiver over his skin.
Jim made a smooth tug of the blade as one of his hands kept Spock's forearm steady. The bandage and medical tape sliced open with a soft hiss. Spock did not flinch and Jim set the blade down and carefully peeled the cuff of dressing back to expose Spock's wrist.
The bracelet of torn tissue was raw, a sickly green and yellow color and it looked wet and slightly swollen.
"Did you notice you had a fever, Spock?" Jim asked. His face a neutral mask that would have done a Vulcan proud if they could feel such pride.
"No, my internal body temperature has dropped since coming to Montana. Not risen." Spock assured.
"Well with your core all screwed up I guess you wouldn't. Or Vulcan's get a different reaction. Anyway." Jim sidestepped, keeping his hand firmly on Spock's forearm as Cody moved over and set the ceramic bowl with refreshed hot water down on the table with a new square of fabric. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise at Spock's wrist and she bent closer to look at the agitated flesh. Spock tensed for a moment, expecting that Cody would reach to touch his flesh for her inspection. Spock did not feel prepared to encounter a stranger's mind, even in the slightest brush of consciousness… much less one so foreign as Cody's would possibly be.
The First Officer felt some kind of relief when Jim's hand moved a little higher on his forearm and gently twisted Spock's arm around and over, performing the physical movement for Cody instead of her acting herself. The half-Vulcan could not but wonder if Jim knew the relief and comfort he'd given Spock with his mall act to ensure Spock's telepathic integrity.
She made a few short moves of her hands and Jim responded in kind.
Spock narrowed his eyes. "I expect the wound has contracted some for of infection. Based on the reaction both of you have made."
"Yeah Spock. It looks kind of bad. How long ago did it happen?"
"Approximately thirty two hours fifteen minutes and forty seconds ago."
"How long before it was bandaged?"
"I performed the service myself until such time that the veterinarian that saw to Nemo A534 cleaned and dressed the wound."
"No antibiotics, huh?"
"They were unavailable."
As the conversation took place Jim used one hand to weave and draw the signs in the air for Cody to read.
"Well Spock, I don't know enough about Vulcan biology to just dose you with something but we'll clean it up and put some natural antibodies in you I'm sure meditating or something will make it easy for you to fight it." Jim explained and dipped the cloth into the hot water before very gingerly brushing it over the wound.
Spock gave inclination to the action except a tightening of the muscle in his forearm. His self-control, some what restored by his pseudo meditation in the shower, was still frayed and strained. It was a severe level of effort to keep himself still and not lash out in pain as Jim continued to pass the damp fabric over his wrist in short, gentle swipes.
The young captain's focus was fixed as he carefully cleaned the injury deeper, getting out any dirt or dust that had collected under the bandage and agitating the wound on purpose, enough to open it a little and a thick, putrid greenish liquid dribbled down Spock's forearm, over Jim's hand and puddle on the table top.
Spock physically flinched and his left hand clenched sharply, nails biting into his own palm.
"Easy." Jim assured, not letting up as he worked the angry flesh deeper and a little more aggressively. More fluid trickled down to join the puddle.
Spock's nails dug deeper into his palm and his muscles corded in his arm.
"Relax Spock, alright. Stay with me." Jim assured, coaxing and soothing as he spoke. The pressure of the cloth and hot water dug into the hollow of his wrist and Spock jerked his arm sharply, trying to pull away from Jim.
The half-Vulcan was surprised when Jim's grip turned into iron and refused to let go of Spock's forearm.
Before Spock could move to pull away fully Jim spoke, his tone low and comforting. "Mitawa tokahe, un nahahci kici miye. I know it hurts."
The half-Vulcan felt the low rumble of the ancient language spoken. It chimed in Jim's low tenor voice but instead of hovering just over Spock's skin, whispering and chatting at him it shot straight to his core. The singular thread bound in Spock unfurled and rushed up to meet the familiarity of its feral origins. A thin shield of self control prevented the whispered language from sinking any deeper and kept the thread in Spock's core from mixing with the foreign influence. They pooled and churned on either surface of the barrier, both hummed and in frustration started to thunder, resonating around the cavity of his chest. It was a pressure, a weight that threatened to strangle Spock at the same time as offered comfort.
Spock felt Jim's hand move on his forearm, the pressure of his grip increasing and decreasing methodically, massaging the tight muscles. Jim's mind brushed almost deliberately against Spock's and it with a thin wash of protectiveness and sorrow, and another emotion strong enough that it almost congealed.
Comfort.
It pulsed, it was tamed, controlled and docile and mixed with the feral pressure of the whispered language's bittersweet brand that kicked and bucked in the hollow of his chest. It was both human and animal, foreign and familiar.
For a long moment the pain in his wrist dulled and Spock relaxed just a fraction. A breath slipped from his lips and chest louder than he intended.
"I'm not trying to hurt you Spock…" Jim swallowed hard but did not relent, going back to cleaning the deep laceration and draining it, sending a new trickle of fluid down Spock's arm and over Jim's hand. "I have to be cruel to be kind here, bear with me. I probably hate it more than you do."
"That possibility is hard to accept." Spock said quietly, his voice a little rough and rasped as the pain returned from his distraction.
"No, Spock. I don't think you have any idea how much I don't like causing pain." Jim said a little stiffly.
Spock felt a twinge of shade across the brush of Jim's mind and the bitter taste and metallic scent of personal horror flickered into existence for a moment before it was pushed back forcibly into Jim's subconscious.
Spock tried consciously to relax more and found it hard when Jim was silent and purposefully forcing the wound in his wrist to open and bubble with fluid.
"What is that language?" Spock asked, unable to tear his eyes away from his wrist. "You've spoken it a number of times in my presence yet never explained."
Jim bit his lower lip and silently dunked the quickly dirtying rag into the hot water to clean it for a moment before returning it to Spock's wrist.
"I do not wish to get into the habit of repeating myself more than necessary. If you do not wish to divulge the information then tell me so."
Spock's control must have really been near breaking, he could hear the edge of bitterness in his voice himself. No doubt that Jim caught it, as the young man gave a physical flinch.
"It's Lakota, Spock."
"Lakota." The half-Vulcan repeated, finding he could pull away from the pain in his hand and wrist with the conversation. "I have yet to come across the language, perhaps it is a sub-category, a dialect? What species utilizes it?"
"Humans. It's the language of the Lakota Sioux tribe, a Native American people." Jim explained, now a bitterness had crept into his voice. "The reason you haven't crossed it is because it and its people are practically extinct."
"A human sub-culture extinct?" Spock asked with interest and mild surprise. "The human race prides itself on its diversity; it would not allow an entire culture to be wiped out."
"It happened a long time ago Spock." Jim said stiffly, clear that he didn't want to go on.
"Explain." Spock prompted and Jim let out an agitated snort and roughly dropped the cloth into the water that was now tinged a faint green and cool to the touch. His hand breaking contact for the first time in several minutes and Spock felt the loss and a slight disorientation when Jim's mind and self were pulled abruptly away.
"Spock-"
"Jim."
The young captain sighed and lifted the bowl, crossing the room and dumping it all into the sink. He washed the cloth under scalding water before returning to the table to soak up the puddle of infectious fluid on the table top and swipe it a last time to clean Spock's arm and wrist. His movement drew attention to Cody, who was busily filling a large plate full of small round, cake like breads. Spock watched for a moment as Cody placed a circular, metal mold onto the surface of the pan, filled it with batter from a bowl, dropped in a few small, dark blue berries then repeated the process. Spock noticed for the first time the scent of cooking food and the soft sounds of bubbling water and grease.
"About six hundred years ago the Europeans started colonizing North and South America… didn't your mom tell you about this stuff? You said she was a teacher."
Spock's head snapped to Jim as the young man dropped the sodden cloth into a waste basket and turned to the refrigeration unit, pulled it open and drew out a large glass jar filled with a thick, golden fluid. Jim retrieved a new ceramic bowl from the shelves and crossed back to the table.
"She did not make a mention of the Lakota Sioux, though she did of American history."
Spock felt only a small twinge of pain at the mention of his mother, by terms of grief Spock was far from over the loss. Jim seemed to have read his pain and blossoming depression over Amanda's death, the quilt and tension and even before the fledgling bond of friendship had risen Jim had reached out and over a cooling cup of tea told Spock he didn't understand and never would, that he did not sympathize with Spock over the loss but sympathized because of it. He expressed his own pain had having torn open such a fresh wound on the bridge and offered himself as an outlet for the grief, a personal Wailing Wall to the briefed half-Vulcan but told Spock he only wanted to hear good memories, not sorrowful ones. Spock had never gone to Jim, never accepted the offer, if he had realized that Jim was making a personal, monumental effort at offering himself and his compassion and trust Spock would have been at Jim's side in a moment. He had been disoriented by his own grief but Jim's words, the truth of his inability to understand and pressure of remembrance in only enjoyable times had set Spock on a course of dealing with his tragedy and healing the wound. Jim had done something for him no other being had that had quelled the ache and when mention of her crossed Jim's lips could not and perhaps would never again bring anything but a minor ache and a flood of golden hued memories.
"Figures. People have pretty much forgotten them." Jim opened and tipped the jar to allow several large dollops of the amber syrup to pool in the bottom of the bowl. Spock's nose twitched as the sharp scent of spiced honey reached him. The young man moved to the sink and added a bit of hot water and sloshed the bowl to mix the two.
"You hesitation makes it clear that you do not truly wish to explain the near extinction of this tribe. It was by off color means." Spock assumed. Jim sighed loudly and lifted a hand to rub his nose as he continued to swirl the contents of the bowl, loosening the honey before setting it next to Spock on the table. Jim pulled a roll of cloth bandaging from the kit and sunk it in the loosened honey.
"Off color…" Jim repeated coolly, shortly. "It was genocide."
Spock went very still at the notion and waited for Jim to elaborate.
"Do you share a heritage with them?" Spock asked after a moment.
"No. Just…" He glanced over his shoulder at Cody, the young woman oblivious of their conversation. "The tribes never recovered. The Lakota Sioux maybe has three hundred members today; only about seventy of those are full blood. Cody's pure blood. Most of her family, too. After hearing the stories from the elders and Grandfather enough… you kind of see it through their eyes, you know?"
"I can understand that an individual would, over time, develop a feeling of attachment and influence of a specific familial or cultural history and burdens if one was exposed to it on a regular basis. How long have you been in acquaintance with Ms. Chicalato and her family?"
"Her name is Cody and since I was six and she was thirteen."
"That is a relationship of nearly twenty years. I hadn't known you had one with such longevity."
"Yeah, Cody's pretty much one of three humans that are the bar best friend wise for me… well three humanoids."
"Humanoids?"
"You're not full blood and I'm pretty sure Bones personality wise doesn't classify as human."
Spock felt something in his core shift slightly at the mention of himself in the very restricted and exclusive position in Jim's life. Himself, having only known Jim for a few years, to be ranked along side someone that had known the young man when his lifespan was still in the single digits.
The young captain drew the soaked roll of bandaging from the bowl and moved to start wrapping it around Spock's wrist. The fabric was damp and sticky, glossed with sugar and nectar. Spock pulled his arm back at the approach.
Jim rolled his eyes and sighed. "What?"
"You have soaked it in honey. Does not the addition of a contaminate neutralize the purpose of a sterilization process."
"Honey is a natural antibiotic, Spock. Bacteria can't grow in it and it can't rot. They went into the tomb of the Egyptians and found honey in there that was thousands of years old, still sticky and still tasted sweet. This-" Jim gave the soaked bandage a little shake. "-won't let anything new grown and it'll probably kill whatever's in there."
Spock's eye moved from the cloth to Jim's face and back before he extended and offered his wrist again. "I expect it is a tribal remedy that you have learned from Ms. Chicalato-"
"Cody." Jim corrected, it was somewhat nostalgic, "And from her dad, actually. He had medicine for this kind of stuff. Healing."
"He was a physician."
"Nope." Jim assured.
Spock cocked his head slightly. "Then the use of the word 'medicine' is incorrect."
"Not medicine as in drugs and stuff, 'medicine' as in power. Talent, knowledge. It's a Native concept. Like you have medicine for math and languages and stuff like that. And Cody has medicine for horses."
Jim moved forward and gingerly laid the end of the soaked bandage over Spock's raw wrist. Jim's fingers brushed and danced over Spock's flesh as he made smooth and short movements, wrapping the cloth tightly in place. Spock felt a slight bite of pain with each wrap but did not act or complain on it.
When Jim came to end of the cloth his hands and wrist were dripping and glazed slightly with honey. "Hold that."
Spock placed the fingers of his free hand on the edge of the bandage and held it while Jim stepped back to wash his hands clean and dry them before digging out another roll of cloth.
"I must confess that I am uncomfortable with the use of unproven medicinal remedies on a serious injury." Spock told Jim.
"Well. Ben's dad was the one that passed on the medicine for healing and Grandpa Dancing Fox lived until he was a hundred and fifteen. Naturally, no drugs, doctors or hospitals or anything like that. Everything that went into his body was of his own making."
Spock's eyebrow raised slightly as Jim nudged his hand away and carefully wrapped the dry bandage over the honey soaked one.
"That is near the lifespan of a Vulcan. He was human?"
"Totally."
"Fascinating."
Jim's face quirked in a slight smile for the first time since Spock arrived, he finished wrapping the dry bandage so that it looked as if Spock was sporting a thick, cloth cuff or bracelet. Jim used a modern cloth adhesive to pin it to place.
"You seem to have an intimate knowledge of the Chicalato family."
"I better. I pretty much grew up in their house with Cody and her brothers." Jim swept the table of the medical supplies and moved them out of the way in time for the young woman to cross over with the large plate of fried bread. She sat it down in front of Spock as well as a large, ceramic mug of a brown fluid with a sprig of herbs, tied with a loop of string, sunk into the liquid like a spoon. A slight sniff and under the foreign mingle of spices and ingredients Spock recognized the basic leaves of Terran tea.
Jim reached over Cody's shoulder to snag one of the biscuits and took a bite of it and Cody motioned for Spock to show her Jim's work. Obligingly Spock offered his wrist and tensed for Cody to touch him. Instead the woman bent or leaned forward, prompting Spock to turn his wrist over for her to get a look at all angles of the bandaging.
She smiled slightly and drew a string of signs to Jim. He quirked his lips and his hands twitched out a response. Including the sign Spock recognized as 'thank you'.
"You said you grew up within their household." Spock drew attention back to himself and lifted an eyebrow when Jim stuffed the rest of his biscuit into his mouth to use both hands to sign Spock's words to Cody. "Surely you were not in their company so much, your mother-"
"My mom and Frank were more than fine with me sticking around Cody more than I did them." Jim said bitterly, choking slightly as he swallowed.
Spock's eyebrows lifted in surprise and he started to speak but Jim cut him off.
"I got to go finish what I started when you showed up. Eat something and take a nap or meditate. The biscuits don't have any animal products in them, milk, butter, eggs none of that stuff." Jim stated for the back door, as he went he grabbed a pair of leather work gloves and tucked them into his back pocket. "And take it slow with the tea. She doesn't usually make it and her coffee can strip flesh from bone, so it's bound to be a little strong."
"Jim-" Spock realized too late he'd dominated their conversation and Jim had passively accepted that instead of posing his own questions and expectations from the First Officer.
"Later!' The young man called from beyond the door, Spock tilted slightly to watch as Jim trotted across the lawn towards the stable barn.
When Jim was out of sight he turned his attention to Cody who was still standing next to him. The young woman lifted her eyebrows and waited for Spock to make some kind of attempt. The half-Vulcan shifted slightly and cast his eyes towards the tea. He carefully lifted the mug to his lips and took a mouthful, the tied sprig brushing along his lip and nostril as he did.
The flavor pooled on his tongue and burst, a sharp wash of herbs and spices rushed down his throat and up his nose like an assault. Sending Spock into and undignified fit of coughing and panting.
Cody made a face of concern and interest as she watched Spock calm himself and bring his breathing back to a normal pace. Spock looked up at her, nearly recovered, eyes watering just slightly and cleared his throat roughly.
Cody reached over and pulled the large jar of honey towards Spock until the jar clinked against the ceramic of the mug.
A/N: I have no idea why but this was a ridiculously hard to write chapter… probably because it's really nice outside and I felt like I had to finish it today… anyway…
Lakota! Ya! More!
Canteska – White Heart
Situpsa – Wag Tail or Wags Tail
Mitawa tokahe, un nahahci kici miye – My first, be still for me.
And hey, looks like Spock's already learning a little bit about Jim, Cody and the Lakota Sioux.
Yeah… I'm going to go out and play with my horses.
…
