Whether it was the extra physical activity and stress of the day, or the recent lack of uninterrupted sleep, Ellison was never sure. But in the end it didn't much matter, the facts remained the same; the Sentinel fell into a sleep so deep his senses didn't warn him of approaching danger until it was almost too late. He snapped awake, instantly alert, hearing the muted drumming of several heartbeats converging upon their campsite from the dense woods surrounding them. The big man hastened out of his bedroll, grabbing his pistol and rifle even as he reached out to lay his hand across Sandburg's mouth in preparation for waking him.
"Shh, Chief, not a word. Get up, QUIETLY," he hissed at the younger man, before repeating the procedure on Billy, helping the youngster up and over to Blair's side. Grabbing his guns again he silently herded his younger charges into the brush, toward the cliff, the only area where he did not hear an approaching heartbeat.
They made good their escape not a moment too soon, as less than a minute later four men stood around the remains of the campfire, kicking at the scattered bedding in irritation.
"Where the hell are they?" The apparent leader demanded, kicking the nearly empty coffee pot, ricocheting it off a nearby tree in a thin spray of cold coffee.
"Jest calm down, Louie, they ain't gone far; their horses and wagon are still here. They musta lit out toward the cliff, that's the only way we wasn't coming from. Jest you're your shirt on, we'll get them," said the oldest man in their group, a grizzled outdoorsman who had at least twenty years on any of the other three.
"It's 'most enough light to track 'em, Pa. Then it'll be like shooting sittin' ducks on the pond, right?" asked the youngest one, who appeared to be just a year or two out of boyhood-at least physically. There was a distinct lack of maturity in the young man's eyes and manner that was somehow more chilling than his father's scarcely disguised menace.
"Chance, you're jest tellin' me what I already know; why don't ya keep your fool mouth shut lessen you have something useful to say. Now, what I don't know is why there is three of them. Din't you say there was jest two?" the older man demanded.
"That's all we seen, Unc' Cal, I swar it. Jest the big guy what shot Lance and Lenny, and the little one what Lenny knifed. Them's all there was, right Lance?" the leader asked his younger brother whose right arm was still supported by a sling from their first encounter with Ellison and Sandburg.
"Yessir, Unc' Cal," the younger sibling agreed, not meeting his uncle's angry eyes. He was currently in disgrace with his family for throwing down his gun after Ellison had killed Lenny and knocked Louie out. He had counted them as luck to escape with only Lenny being killed, considering the obvious skill of the man who had followed them to retrieve his wagon. With his own injury bleeding freely, and Louie unconscious, Lance had taken the only recourse he had available; surprised and grateful when the big man had let them off lightly by tying them up on their horses but turning them loose otherwise.
It was fortunate that their Uncle Cal had been the one to find them; the older man and his son had been planning to meet the brothers to help escort the equipment to their 'employer'. A quick burial of the unfortunate Lenny and some rough frontier doctoring of Louie and Lance's injuries, and the four kinsmen set out after the man who they 'owed a right proper killing to,' as Cal put it.
Not far from the camp, hidden by the thick foliage and near darkness, the Sentinel listened to the conversation in their erstwhile camp with growing anger; both at the men who dared to attack them yet again and himself, for not paying more attention the night before and for showing them any mercy in the first place.
"What's going on?" Blair asked in an urgent whisper, well aware his friend would have his senses dialed up.
The bigger man held up a hand to forestall any further questions, his head still cocked in the listening position. He remained that way for a minute or two, then turned to his two companions with an unhappy sigh. "It's those idiots who tried to steal the wagon the other night," he explained softly.
"The ones who knifed me?"
"Yep. Turns out they're brothers, and they're back for revenge with their uncle and a cousin, sounds like. Come on, Chief, we've got to find a defensible position, this isn't any good," Jim instructed him after a quick look around.
"Why don't we just take off, they got what they wanted, right? Take off and get some help and go after them?" Blair wondered.
"Blair, I killed their brother, they aren't going to be satisfied with just getting the wagon. They don't even care about that anymore, they want blood. My blood. Your blood. I doubt it matters to them. And look at us, we aren't equipped to walk out of here; insufficient clothing, no supplies, Billy doesn't even have shoes on. No, we need to prepare to fight, but we have advantages they don't know about, right? And I remembered to grab the extra ammo, we'll be okay if we find a good location. So move it out, Chief, they're already starting to look for us, we're out of time to debate." Ellison reached out and took Billy from Blair as he spoke, handing the curly haired man the rifle instead and ushering him forward.
It wasn't easy for the younger man to traverse the wilderness in the near darkness before dawn, but Jim kept him on the right track, having already decided some rocky outcroppings very near the edge of the cliff would be the best choice, given their limited options. Finding a well protected niche, he placed Billy in it, kneeling down and tilting the boy's head back so he could see the child's eyes.
"I want you to say right here, understand? Last time there was a gunfight, you ran off; I don't want you to even think of trying that. They're going to try to surround us, there's no place safe for you to run to. You stay right here. Do you understand me?" He stared sternly at the boy, his entire demeanor demanding an answer.
Billy nodded, huddling back a bit further as if to prove his sincerely, and Jim squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "You'll be okay," he assured the youngster, before rising up to join Blair.
"Can you hear them, Jim?" the Guide asked softly, looking up at the older man.
Jim unconsciously tilted his head, listening, then frowned. "They're trying to get around us, must have seen our tracks and figured out where we'd be. One's over near the edge, two in front, near that rock outcropping, and one is trying to make it behind us. Looks like it's time to make out stand. You handle the rifle, and remember, don't shoot unless you're sure." Jim hated when Blair had to be involved in a gunfight, the younger man always fought diligently, but afterward he'd struggle with guilt over using potentially lethal force.
"Who do you want me to go for?" Sandburg asked calmly.
"The one by the cliff. And take it easy, Chief, it's a long way to the bottom."
"Oh, gee, thanks, Jim. I feel so much better now. You know how much I love high places," Blair groused.
"You don't have anything to worry about, just make sure he doesn't sneak up on us. You'll do fine," the former soldier assured his younger counterpart, then he turned his attention again to the other three. "Those two in front have good position, they'll be hard to get rid of, will keep us tied down," the Sentinel mumbled just before the first volley of shots rang out. They were all high, and to the left, obviously intending to establish their position. Jim motioned Blair to move away some, then returned fire, just enough to let them know that they were not defenseless. Blair found himself studying the positioning of the two men to their front, something was nagging at the back of his mind, and it was several minutes and a few rounds of gunfire before it finally clicked.
"Jim! Jim, I got an idea," he called out softly enough so the others wouldn't hear, but loud enough to catch Ellison's attention.
The older man looked over at the former student with raised eyebrows, clearly requesting an explanation. "Look at the rocks behind them, Jim. Aim for them, maybe you can catch them in the ricochet. It's worth a try anyway, they're pinning us down here, I can't do anything about this guy over here if I'm worrying about them shooting at me."
The Sentinel's eyes lit up in understanding, and with a quick grin at his companion suited action to idea and fired at the rocks behind the two men. Even Sandburg could hear the men's sudden shrieks of surprise and pain, and when one leapt up in an attempt to escape, Jim took him out with one clean shot. Pausing, the big man concentrated his hearing, quickly picking out the now stuttering heartbeat of the other man. It was weak, uneven, and slowing even as he listened, leaving no doubt in Jim's mind that the second man was mortally wounded. He dialed his hearing back down, and signaled to his partner that they were clear to pursue the two remaining gunmen.
Seeing Sandburg duck down to track the young man trying to approach from the cliff edge, Ellison turned his own attention to the one he suspected was the 'uncle' he'd heard them talking to at the campsite. The man was older, more cautious, and way more dangerous than the younger ones, and Jim was too experienced to ignore that fact.
Using his senses to his advantage, Jim decided to circle around and turn the hunter into the hunted, take control of the situation once and for all. He maneuvered carefully to a position behind the older man, readying himself to give the man at least a fair chance to give up. But the former soldier had not reckoned on the instincts that decades of living in the wilderness, far from any civilization, had instilled in his opponent. As he stood up to confront Cal, the older man turned with the deadly grace of a rattlesnake and snapped off a shot at Ellison. The Sentinel returned fire, his bullet striking the man dead center in the forehead even as Cal's bullet ripped a path of fire through Jim's right shoulder, throwing him roughly to the ground.
Jim had barely managed to sit up, fighting nausea and shock, when he heard gunshots from the area Blair had been covering, and sparing only a brief glance at the clearly dead Cal, the Sentinel hurried as much as he could to the aid of his Guide. Moving quickly among the rocks, he used his superior sight and hearing to locate his besieged friend, who'd managed to be driven nearer the edge of the drop-off. Locating the aggressor, Jim recognized the one he'd knocked unconscious the other night, and the older man experienced a fleeting regret that he'd not killed the idiot when he'd had the chance.
"Stop right where you are!" Ellison called out, standing up and drawing a steady bead on the last of their attackers. "You're alone, now, give it up, you've got nowhere to go."
Louie glanced at Ellison, realizing he had no recourse, and at the smaller man in front of him, standing between a large boulder and the cliff, partially obscured from his sight, and made the final decision of his wasted life.
He fired at Sandburg.
The bullet hit the boulder very near the young man's head, causing him to stumble back, tripping, then tumbling over the edge with a cry of terror. Louie never even knew his target went over the edge, the bullet from the Sentinel's gun ended his life before he had the chance.
"Blair!" Jim raced to the place his best friend had last stood, and looked over the edge with his heart in his throat, dreading the expected sight of the twisted, broken body lying amongst the scattered boulders at the bottom. He was shocked to find himself looking into two wide, terrified blue eyes fifteen feet below the edge.
Sandburg had managed to grab a protruding shrub, to which he still clung with desperate tenacity, his toes positioned on nearly nonexistent ledges to help keep him steady.
"Jesus, Chief, just hold on. I'll get the rope from camp, just hold on and don't look down!" he said, his own wound forgotten in his fear for his Guide.
"Hurry, Jim, I don't know how long this plant will hold," the smaller man gasped out, fixing his friend with a pleading look.
Jim didn't bother to reply, simply stood and raced back toward their campsite, knowing there was a good coil of rope there he could use to rescue Blair. He knew his younger companion had to be nearly beside himself with terror; Sandburg was afraid of heights, had been since childhood according to him. Having to climb a tree made him nervous and fretful; hanging precariously over a certainly fatal drop had to be pushing his limits.
Ellison grabbed the rope and hurried back, remembering their other companion as he neared the edge. "Billy! Billy, it's safe to come out, and I could use some help! Over by the edge, be CAREFUL!" he called out loudly, hoping the boy had obeyed him and stayed put.
"Jim, is he okay?" Blair's voice drifted up to the Sentinel, sounding more strained than it had only moments before.
"Yeah, Blair, he's fine," he assured his friend, hoping it was the truth. "I'm going to lower a rope to you, I need you to put your hand through the loop, then grab on above the knot, okay?" he instructed as he finished the slipknot.
Standing near the edge, the big man carefully lowered the loop, bringing it as close to Sandburg's hands as possible, then bracing himself. "Okay, Chief, I want you to reach over – SLOWLY – with one hand and take the rope. That's it, Buddy, put your hand through it, grab the rope above it. Perfect! Keep holding on to the bush, okay, while I set this up to pull you up. Just keep a good grip on everything just as you have it," Jim continued to reassure him as he backed up, keeping the rope running behind his back, just in case. He was looking around for the best spot to work from to establish a pulley-type setup when he heard Blair cry out his name as the rope tightened around him, yanking him off his feet. A few feet slid through his hand, burning wretchedly before he was able to stop it using a combination of his weakened right hand and trapping the rope between his body and the nearest large rock.
"Blair! Blair, are you okay?" Ellison called out anxiously. He could hear the frantic gasping breaths, the thundering pulse.
"Oh, God…Oh, God…Oh, God…" Blair's voice was hoarse and soft as it repeated the same words over and over, mindless of his Sentinel's calling.
"Just hang in there, Blair. I'll get us out of this," Jim called out, not sure how he could get them out of this, but absolutely certain he would. A slight noise caught his attention and he looked up to see Billy's worried face looking down at him. Relieved the boy was unharmed, the big man was also struck with an idea that might work.
"Billy, you are just who I wanted to see. Can you find one of the theive's horses, and bring it here? Be very careful, but I need a horse with its saddle on. And hurry, okay? Will you do that for me?" He spoke encouragingly and was rewarded with a timid nod before the boy turned away on his errand.
"It'll be just a few minutes, Buddy, we'll have you out of there," Jim called out, wanting to reassure the now silent Sandburg.
"Thanks, Jim," came the soft reply and Ellison mentally urged Billy to hurry; Blair didn't sound good at all.
Gritting his teeth against the pain in his wounded shoulder and rope burned hand, he forced himself to remain alert, sternly reminding himself he could collapse later if need be. But first he had to assure his guide was safe, that was the more important consideration.
Startled out of his thoughts by the arrival of Billy with a fully saddled horse, Jim looked over the beast appraisingly. She was very tall, well made with a powerful looking chest, but a calm eye and manner, apparently not nervous near the drop-off. Billy handled the animal with confident ease, obviously well trained at some point in his young life.
"Billy, I need for you to take this extra length of rope and wrap it around the saddle horn and tie it off securely, okay? Then we're going to see if we can convince his big girl to help pull Blair back up. Take it nice and slow, make sure the saddle is secure, and the horse in under control at all times. That's a boy," Jim instructed the youngster.
It took only a moment to realize there were going to be some problems; the first one being Billy was too short to reach the saddle horn in such a way that didn't spook the horse. Before Jim could make a suggestion the youngster climbed up on the rock Jim was braced against and clambered up onto the saddle, reins and rope in hand. He made quick work of tying off the rope, carefully checked around him for the best path, then began to slowly back the horse up, his small, still bare, feet kicking the horse into moving.
"Excellent, Billy. Blair! We're going to be pulling you up, now. Just hang on! Let us do the work, you just concentrate on holding on to the rope. We'll try not to jerk you too much, but I can't promise anything. Just a couple of minutes more, Chief, and it'll be over." Already the excess slack between Jim and the horse had been taken up, and the Sentinel rolled away from the rock, releasing the trapped rope, then his remaining handhold.
Billy continued backing the horse up as Jim steadied the rope at the edge. Moments later he reached down and grabbed Blair's free hand, helping his shaky friend away from the edge, before both of them collapsed in relief.
"Oh, man, I'm sorry, Jim. But that…that…" Words failed the younger man as tremors wracked his body. The Sentinel held him close and gently removed the rope from his Guide's right wrist, carefully examining the bleeding lacerations.
"It's okay, Blair. I understand, Buddy, I do. You're okay now, it's over. I think you got away with just some loss of skin here, I don't feel any broken bones. Can you move your wrist and hand okay?" he asked, manipulating the injured limb himself.
"Yeah, it's fine," the younger man asserted, looking up at Jim for the first time. "Oh, Jesus, Jim, you're shot! Come on, we got to get back to camp and take care of that! What the hell are you fussing over my wrist for?!"
Taken aback by his friend's sudden explosion, Jim allowed himself to be assisted to his feet, leaning on his Guide as he found he was much weaker than he'd expected as the adrenalin rush wore off. Blair continued to fuss at Jim as he helped him to the campsite and back down on his discarded bedroll. Pulling a canvas bag out from under the wagon seat, Sandburg instructed his patient to take off his shirt while he stoked back up the fire and put some water on to heat.
Billy had followed them back to camp with the horse, quietly getting the water Blair had requested, then stepping back to wait until needed again. Sandburg neatly laid out the contents of the bag: medical supplies and instruments from his days as a medical student.
"Dial it down, Jim. Way down. I need to get that bullet out, there's no reason for you to suffer. Take it to 'one', at least, but no lower. Good," he said when he saw the lines of pain relax on his friend's face. The next few minutes were unpleasant for both Sentinel and Guide as Blair probed the wound before finally locating, and extracting, the bullet. With a sigh of relief, he cleaned the wound and bandaged it tightly, fashioning a sling to protect it from unnecessary movement.
"Should heal up just fine, as long as we keep it clean. Another scar to wow the ladies with, Big Guy," Blair teased him gently as he bandaged Jim's other hand, where the rope had removed a thick strip of skin. "How's it feel?"
"I've still got the dial down, it's fine. Where's Billy?" the older man wondered, looking around.
"He wouldn't have gone far, Jim. Ah, there he is. What'd you do, turn down your hearing too?" Blair asked with a smirk.
"Very funny, Junior. Why don't you give him a hand with those horses? And we'll need to go gather up the bodies, take them into town with us."
It was a busy morning for all of them, it took a joint effort between all three to get the bodies loaded on their horses, get the team in the harness, and everything packed back up. Jim was woozy and weak from his injury and resultant blood loss, Blair's right wrist was sore and his left arm still weak from the knife wound. Billy proved to be a very capable assistant to both of them; good at following orders and handling the stock. At long last they had the four horses, each packing a body, tied to the back of the wagon, and everything secured for travel.
Billy had doused the fire and tied the bucket back on the wagon when Jim came up behind him.
"Billy? I just want to tell you that you did good this morning. You followed orders, kept calm, did an all around good job helping get Blair off that cliff and breaking camp now. Thank you, Son, I'm proud of you." He reached out and used his good arm to draw the boy into a rough hug, feeling the thin arms wrap shyly around his waist. The Sentinel ran a large hand over the boy's fine blond hair and rubbed the narrow shoulders affectionately.
"Come on, Kiddo, time to load up and head out, right Chief?"
"Right. So, Jim, does this mean I get to drive?"
"Not a chance in hell, Junior."
TSPRTSPR
Portland was a growing, bustling, self-important town that for some reason Jim Ellison had never much liked. Consequently his mood darkened a little as they rolled down the main street, drawing curious stares and gasps from the townsfolk. Locating the sheriff's office, Jim left Blair and Billy at the wagon and went in to explain the situation to the local lawman.
Much to Jim's surprise, old Ambrose Calloway had finally retired, oddly enough replaced by a man who appeared to be almost as old as his predecessor. Since Jim had never gotten on well with Calloway, he figured the change had to be an improvement.
"Name's Teaspoon Hunter, used to run the Pony Express way station at Sweetwater, back before the Civil War and the telegraph changed everything. Did some sherrifing after that, and when ole Ambrose decided to step down, he recollected me and recommended me for the job. And the folks here seem to have taken a shine to my…er…charm," the grizzled man said with a disarming grin in response to Jim's introduction.
Jim couldn't help but chuckle at that; truth to tell, the old fellow did have an unreasonable amount of rough charm, and Ellison found himself liking him, much the same way he'd taken to Jack Pendergrast at first meeting. It was a good sign, as far as Jim was concerned, he trusted his instincts about people.
"Now, what can I do for you, Mr. Ellison?"
The Sentinel gave Sheriff Hunter a quick rundown of the events that ended with four bodies being brought to his doorstep, then led the way outside to where Blair stood waiting by the wagon.
"Well, then, you must be Mr. Sandburg," Hunter said with a grin, reaching out to shake the younger man's hand. Billy's curious face peeked over the side and Teaspoon's smile got impossibly wider. "And let me guess, you must be Billy. I had me a 'Billy' among my last group of riders, mouthy little cuss but one hell of a rider and a crack shot with a rifle. Nice to meet you, Son. Now let's take a look at our newest residents of boot hill."
"Hey, Teaspoon, what have we got here?" a new voice asked, getting the three men's attention. The speaker was a young man with obvious Indian heritage, his long dark hair held back in a loose ponytail, his dark brown eyes alight with intelligence and curiosity.
"Just checking that out now, Buck. Gentlemen, this is Buck Cross, one of my former riders, the only one crazy enough to follow me out here. This here's Mr. Jim Ellison and Mr. Blair Sandburg, of Cascade, Washington," Teaspoon said in a grand manner.
"Please, just Jim and Blair," Blair said easily, smiling at the sheriff's grand introduction.
"Okay, then. Now, let's see what we have here. Oh, boy, nice shot, Jim. Damn, this one looks familiar. Buck, you recognize this one?" All humor had faded from the sheriff's eyes as he turned to his deputy.
"One of those wanted posters you got a few weeks ago. Franklin…Ferguson…Ferguson! That's it. Ferguson," Buck replied looking up with a frown. "They're supposed to be near the California border, I thought."
"They've been following us for at least three or more days," Jim added.
"Buck, go over to the White Elk Saloon, see if Percy's there and semi sober. He's hails from that neck of the woods, he might recognize these fellas. Meet us over at Johnson's," Teaspoon directed Buck, then turned toward Jim and Blair.
"Come on, let's get these guys to the undertaker. Hopefully Percy will know who they are, but one way or another they'll end up there anyway."
As they walked along Jim turned to the older man. "I heard them talking, before the gunfight broke out, I heard the names 'Cal', 'Chance', 'Louie' and 'Lance.' I think they referred to the one I killed the first time as 'Lenny.' That's what it sounded like, anyway. If that helps."
"It might. Hey, Johnson, got some customers for you. Want to have your boys untruss them here, we're bringing Percy over to look at them, if that's okay with you," Teaspoon announced to the burly man who came out to meet them.
"If it don't bother them, it don't bother me," the big man joked, guffawing at his own weak attempt at humor. By the time Buck arrived with the slightly unsteady Percy, all four bodies were laid out and discreetly covered with sheets.
"Lessee what ya got here, Sheff," the little man slurred, walking in with excess caution. "Buck thins I may know 'em."
Wordlessly Teaspoon pulled back the sheet covering Cal, and Percy jumped back in surprise.
"Cripes! That there's Cal Ferguson. He's one mean sumbitch. Damn. Who else you got unner there?" Five minutes later the slightly green tinged Percy left Johnson's, having identified all four of the dead men as members of the infamous Ferguson family.
Back in his office, Teaspoon did some checking, then turned regretful eyes to Jim and Blair. "Seems there's no reward out on them, they're wanted, but not enough to warrant a reward I guess. Tell you what, though, you keep the horses and tack the fellas had, you can probably get a few dollars for the animals at least. Wish I could do more, but that's all I can offer," he said.
"That's fine, thanks for your help, Sheriff. It was a pleasure meeting you. Come on, Chief, let's see if we can find Clancy and get this stuff dropped off," Jim decided, herding the younger man out of the sheriff's office. They quickly secured the extra horses and headed toward the docks, anxious to get free of the responsibility of this equipment.
TSPRTSPR
The docks were even busier than the main street area, the shouts of the rough men who worked the boats permeating the air. Using his Sentinel hearing to focus in on Clancy's uniquely accented voice, they soon found the right ship and were greeted as long lost friends by the effusive captain.
"You boys did it, didn't you? Made it through okay? Oh, thanks to the heavens, the boys have all been so antsy about it. Let me get some of the lads to unload that, get it secured before there's any trouble about it, you know? Come, have a quick drink, and I'll get ye the rest your pay," he offered grandly, obviously happy for any excuse to have a drink.
"Ah, no thanks, Clancy, we'll just get our gear off the wagon. You're taking the whole thing, right? We're kind of ready to get heading home, it's been a long trip," Jim explained, frankly ready to find somewhere quiet and peaceful and sleep for a day or ten.
"Well, let me go get your pay, I'll meet you at the wagon. Tell my lads I said for them to help you in any way you need, I come down there and find you two trying to lift things I'm going to be one mad captain, I can guarantee you that. Get yourself moving now, I'll be right there," Clancy directed them before turning and shouting to some of his crew to assist with the wagon.
It was quick work to unhitch the horses and saddle them back up, distributing the bedrolls and gear between them. Clancy was good as his word, arriving on the dock a short time later with a pouch containing the rest of their payment.
"Hey, I thought they said you didn't bring any of the young'uns along on this trip," the captain asked, spying Billy, now mounted on one of the spare horses.
"We didn't. We picked up Billy along the way," Blair explained.
"Well then, Lad," he said, addressing the youngster, "you're future has just gotten much better. Good luck to ye all. Don't be strangers, fellas. Seattle isn't that far away, you know."
"We know, Clancy. Be seeing you, give our regards to Aaron and the Bolts," Jim said as he turned his horse away, glad to be riding again after days of driving the wagon. Their first stop was the livery stable, where they planned to sell two of the four horses that constituted their 'reward.'
The big mare that Billy had used to help pull Blair up the cliff was one of the 'keepers;' now saddled with the smallest of the saddles it was serving as the boy's mount, despite being taller than the other horses. The other mare they kept was rigged up with a harness for carrying supplies, freeing the rest of the mounts from some of their burdens. While Jim negotiated with the stableman, Blair and Billy went to the store for some supplies for the ride home, including the tea Blair was craving.
Wandering around the shop, knowing it would take Jim some time to finish up at the stable, Blair found himself checking out some of the more obscure displays the shopkeeper had in the odd corners. His attention was caught by some brightly decorated bowls, very similar to the ones Tachopey had used. Very similar to the one he was filling with fresh, young asparagus shoots the day Bold Hawk came back into his life…
***Blair shifted the bowl to his left hand as he reached out to carefully break off the young asparagus stalk near the base. He'd found Jim and Tachopey both liked the flavorful vegetable, and though it was a tedious task finding enough to make a meal, he didn't mind too much. Jim was back in the village helping Tachopey and the other men of the tribe erect the rest of the lodges, since they'd just relocated two days before. Blair was still fascinated by the process of moving the entire village every couple of months; the Yojave had it down to a fine art, leaving the old location nearly devoid of any sign of their having been there. The young man had a genuine appreciation and respect for the Yojave reverence for nature; he wished his own people were as careful.
He'd been with the Yojave for just over four months, with Jim for one, and though he missed some aspects of his old life, he found much to appreciate with the tribe. Tachopey was an endless source of knowledge, and Blair had spent countless content hours at the old man's side, soaking in the information like a sponge absorbed water. Sandburg would have loved to have access to some of the tests he'd taken himself back at Harvard, he suspected the medicine man was actually a genius, and couldn't help but speculate what he might have been able to accomplish if he'd had access to the kind of information Blair had been. The exchange of knowledge was not a one-way street, either; Tachopey seemed to take just as much delight in learning from the younger man, his quick grasp of subjects such as biology, mathematics, sociology, physics, and anthropology (Blair's personal favorite) far more sophisticated than Sandburg would have ever expected.
Noticing the soil seemed a little darker along this area of the river as compared to where they were before, the Guide wondered if Jim would be able to discern a difference in the taste. Making a mental note to ask the Sentinel about it, he found a few more stalks to add to his growing bowlful. Intent on his labors and thoughts, he didn't hear the approaching riders until one of the horses nickered directly behind him.
The young man whirled around in surprise, his heart taking off at a frantic pace when he recognized the leader of the dozen or so Apache braves. Bold Hawk's cold glare froze Sandburg where he stood, his cruel expression promising future pain for his former slave.
"So you've escaped your new owners, have you? Guess that means whoever finds you can have you," the muscular brave declared, dismounting and stalking toward the smaller man.
"I'm not escaped, I'm gathering food for my 'owner,'" Sandburg said, finally finding his voice, and remembering to speak in Apache.
"Those weeds? I'm not an idiot, Slave!" Bold Hawk growled out, striking the young man a vicious blow across the face. Blair stumbled backwards several steps before losing his balance entirely, the colorful bowl falling to the stony ground to break in several pieces.
Scrambling to his feet, Blair began to back away from the Apaches, his lip bleeding freely from where he'd been hit, his breath ragged and panicked. Bold Hawk took several steps toward him, then stopped, looking beyond the young Guide, his expression darkening even more. Blair hazarded a glance backward and nearly wept in relief when he saw Jim, Tachopey, and several of the men of the tribe standing there.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Jim demanded, his furious gaze on the big brave who threatened his friend.
"Jim, it's okay, I'm fine, it's nothing. They thought I was a runaway," Blair hastened to explain, looking apprehensively at Bold Hawk, grateful the Apache had never learned any English.
"Fine, Chief? Nothing? You're bleeding, it's not nothing," the Sentinel declared, glaring at the Apache brave.
"Guide was given in trade by your chief to mine, Timnaha, who in turn gave him to me. I have since given him to Sentinel," Tachopey said in his halting Apache, indicating Ellison.
"Sentinel? You believe in that legend, old man? There's no such thing, not since the white man polluted our lands. And it is impossible for a white man to be a Sentinel, they don't have a soul. Anyone knows that," Bold Hawk spat out.
"The Great Spirit told me he would send me a Sentinel, and so he has. It matters not if you believe. Now, go, and leave us in peace. You have no business here."
"If this so-called Sentinel is as powerful as you believe, old man, then he should be able to defeat me, isn't that right? By our way I can challenge him for the ownership of the slave, if he's what you say he is, he shouldn't be afraid of that challenge. A fight to the death, for the slave." Bold Hawk's words were directed to Tachopey, but his attitude was a clear challenge to Ellison.
Despite Blair's attempt to shush him, Tachopey repeated the challenge back to the Sentinel, explaining who the younger brave was, making certain he understood what the stakes really were. Jim's rage only increased when informed that this was the man who'd left the scars on his Guide's body, there was no way he'd let the chance for retribution pass.
"Tell him I agree to the challenge, but Blair will not be returned to him. If I lose, he returns to your possession, Tachopey. Our fight has nothing to do with Blair's future," the Sentinel instructed his mentor.
"It doesn't work that way, Sentinel. If you fight, it shall be for the Guide. If you do not fight, the Guide will remain yours, though you will be dishonored. And the next time you encounter a challenger you may not be given any choice, but killed in an ambush, like a rabid animal, and your Guide taken that way. If you are planning a return to the white mans' world, this may not matter," Tachopey explained patiently, ignoring Ellison's growing anger.
"And if I should lose? That animal gets his hands on Blair again. He barely survived the last time, from what you told me, from the scars I saw. Would you run that risk?" Jim asked with some heat.
"I would," said a calm, steady voice, drawing the irate Sentinel's attention to his Guide. "Don't you think I should have some say in this matter, Jim? My faith is in you, man. You can take him. If you choose not to fight, I don't want it to be because of me. It's your choice; personally I think you can take him. And personally, I think you SHOULD take him, else his threat will be hanging over us forever."
Jim Ellison looked down into the trusting eyes of his young friend, and the Yojave braves standing behind them felt the ripple from the power that passed between Sentinel and Guide as both men fully accepted their role in something that was bigger than both of them. Jim reached out and laid a warm hand on Blair's shoulder, then turned toward Bold Hawk, his eyes instantly hardening.
"I accept."
No translation was needed for that declaration, and as one the two men moved toward a central area, already poised, prepared and dangerous. The braves from both tribes stood on opposite sides, oddly silent witnesses to the battle for supremacy between two strong men.
Circling each other in that classic, ages old dance of aggression, Ellison heard Blair's voice in his head, the echo of a dozen lessons;**use your senses.** Use his senses how? Narrowing his eyes, he concentrated his hearing on Bold Hawk's heartbeat, where a sudden spike signaled his intention to attack moments before his body made the motion. But moments were more than enough time for Jim to prepare a counter attack, and he drew the all-important first blood, swiping at the passing brave with his Bowie knife.
The Apache brave was fast and strong, but Jim was patient and observant, letting his opponent wear himself out with essentially useless strikes, learning the other man's moves and unconscious signals. In short order the Sentinel could tell when and how Bold Hawk would strike just from the twitches of his muscles, though that knowledge had come at the price of a half dozen freely bleeding wounds. Fortunately none were particularly damaging, but now it was time for Ellison to launch his offensive, which he did to devastating effect, and less than five minutes after the fight started Jim had Bold Hawk down and disarmed, his razor sharp knife at the defenseless throat.
"Do you surrender?" Jim asked tightly, pushing hard enough to draw thin blood. Tachopey translated for Bold Hawk, who glared at Ellison with renewed hatred slightly diluted by fear, all but growling out his response.
"He says the slave is yours, he releases all claim on him. You are the victor, Sentinel," the old medicine man informed him.
"Tell him if I ever see him again, I'll kill him on sight," Ellison requested, even as he backed off his defeated opponent. Bold Hawk stood up tall, pulling his tattered dignity around himself like a poor coat, and then turned and left with the rest of the Apaches without another word. Jim and Blair stood with Tachopey watching them until they were out of sight as the rest of the Yojave went back into the village.
"You did it, Jim. And you were using your senses, weren't you?" the younger man asked with barely constrained excitement, bouncing on his heels.
"Yeah, I was. It was amazing, so easy to tell how he was going to strike. But I'm just glad he won't be back to bother you again, Chief. It was hard not to slit his throat, for what he'd done to you," Ellison admitted, looking a bit ashamed of the admission. "He is gone, right? Tachopey?"
"He is gone, Sentinel. He won't bother you or Guide again, his power among is people is gone. You did well, your lessons here are finished. It is time for you to take your gift back to your tribe, where it belongs," the old man said with sorrowful satisfaction.
"But, I don't have a tribe," Jim protested as Blair looked at the old man with open-mouthed dismay. Jim found the idea of leaving the Yojave oddly distressing, it was the first time in his life he could remember being fully accepted, and the first stretch of time he could recall when he didn't have the weird sensory episodes and fade outs. He trusted Blair's dedication to helping him, but still he worried that away from the low sensory input atmosphere of the tribe, he could have the same problems he'd always had. He had no desire to return to the type of life where he was considered a freak.
"I thought we belonged here," Blair chipped in as he moved closer to Jim's side.
"No, Guide, your time here was just for training and healing. Remember what I said to you when first we met? When you said I was not of the tribe, and I replied 'nor are you.' You are not of this tribe, either, my friend. It is time for you to find your tribe, at your Sentinel's side. And when you find it, you will find your home…"***
"You looking for some pottery, Chief?" an amused voice asked from behind him.
"Hey, Jim, you got done fast. Nah, just…thinking. Though maybe Hannah would like some?" he suggested with a grin up at his friend.
"You know how she feels about ANY gift that implies more work for her. Best to keep to her fancy boxes of chocolates," the big man grinned, thinking about the woman who was combination cook, housekeeper, nurse, caretaker, mother, and friend.
"I think you could be right about that. But that's something we should buy closer to home," Sandburg agreed.
"Well, if you found all the stuff you need, let's get it purchased, gather up Billy, and get out of here. It's time to head on home, Chief," the Sentinel declared with a softening of his expression when he thought of their farm on the outskirts of Cascade.
"Yeah, Jim. Time to go home."
The End.