Thanks for being patient! I've been moving, but still living in both places, and my computer is often in a different state than I am. Thanks again for reading!

Chapter 20

Back in the kitchen with Trance, Harper could hardly believe what had just happened. He was sad that he hadn't been able to save the mother dog, but as he held the trembling, little puppy in his arms he felt a thrill of happiness and disbelief shoot through him. He had a pet of his own! This tiny puppy was his! Beka had let him keep it!

The small animal whimpered weakly and licked Harper's fingers. He smiled back gently, rubbing its soft fur. He remembered several litters of puppies born on the homestead; how they had nudged at him and licked his fingers just like this. How badly he had wanted one of them, something to keep and love and that would be all his own, something that would never hurt him, or belittle him. And he remembered how each time he had clenched his teeth and fought back tears, generally hating the world and everyone in it, himself included, when he had been ordered by his "father" to put the helpless pups in a sack and drown them in the watering trough. Blasted runts, always in the way and eatin' me outta house and home, the man had raged, leaving Harper no doubt the little puppies weren't the only things being spoken of. It had killed him inside, but he'd had no choice but to obey, not if he wanted to avoid as much pain for himself as possible. He vividly remembered the one time he'd tried to hide one away and been caught…

So when Trance had discovered the puppy just now, he'd been afraid that Beka would order him to do the same thing; do away with it as a nuisance. Instead, she had let him keep it! It almost blew his mind, but also made him happier than he could ever remember being.

Smiling with pride and joy at his small pet, Harper stuck a shallow pan on the stove and managed to pour an inch of milk into it without spilling it or having to put his puppy down. He hadn't known of its existence fifteen minutes ago, and now he was reluctant to let the little thing go, even when Trance came out of the pantry with an old towel folded up in a wooden crate.

"Come on, Harper, set him in it so he can see if he likes his bed," she urged excitedly, placing the crate in a safe, out-of-the-way corner of the kitchen.

The boy did as she asked, but he couldn't bring himself to move away. He stayed crouched next to the make-shift bed, watching as the rather dirty puppy sniffed hesitantly around and ready to snatch his pet back up at the first whimper.

"See, he loves it," Trance soothed, crouching down next to him. "He's gonna be just fine now, with you to take care of him." She gave Harper a wide, friendly smile and patted him on the arm. "Good thing we went out there when we did, isn't it?" she added.

Her tone made Harper glance at her strangely, but her face showed only innocence and honesty, so he let it drop. "Yeah, I guess it is," he replied. Trance mentioning their original trip outside had reminded him of the job Beka had given them that still needed to be done, and he felt his good spirits crumble quickly.

His friend rose to her feet, pulling him up by the sleeve of his ragged, berry-stained shirt. "Let's go get those jars for Beka quick," she said, as if reading his thoughts. "The puppy will be alright here for a minute and we won't be gone long. Then when we get back the milk will be warm and you can feed him."

Trying not to show how truly frightened he was, Harper let the girl pull him outside and over to the cellar where the abandoned clothesbasket lay waiting for them. Once again, Trance opened the door and the dark cave yawned before him. He gulped instinctively and could feel his body breaking out into a cold sweat as the cool air washed over him.

With thoughts of the furry pet waiting for him to keep him focused, Harper closed his eyes and willed his courage to surface. Come on, he mentally chided himself. It's just a dark hole in the ground. Nothing down there to hurt you. It's not even the same one. Sucking in a deep breath, he opened his eyes and rushed down the steps after Trance.

Ten excruciating minutes later, he was back in the kitchen with her, unloading every empty bottle they could find on the shelves of the cellar from the basket. He felt like he'd just run a mile or two as he stood on his shaky legs, but he'd made it in and out without a panic attack, which was saying something.

Just as he set the last jar on the table, the little puppy let out a plaintive whimper. Harper was at its side in an instant, scooping the helpless creature into his hands and holding it close, gently rubbing its fur. He stood with it still in his arms and walked over to the stove to retrieve the warm milk. Placing the pan on the table, he sat on the bench and dipped a finger into the warm liquid. Then he let the little dog sniff it, and after only a few tries he had the puppy hungrily sucking the milk off his fingers.

"Poor little thing sure is hungry," Trance observed softly, sitting down next to him and staring at the puppy with kind, brown eyes.

"Probably ain't ever had much to eat," Harper answered. "Its mother was too starved herself to be able to feed him right." If there was something Harper understood instinctively, it was hunger. It had framed and shaped every single season of his life until a few weeks ago.

"So, Harper?" Trance asked brightly, watching as the puppy started to drift off to sleep in Harper's arms, comfortable and safe with its belly full of warm milk. "What are you gonna name him? We can't keep calling him an "it"; that's just not very nice!"

"Woody," Harper replied. He'd known what he would name the animal from the moment Beka said he could keep him; he just hadn't been able to think how to bring it up.

"Why Woody?" Trance inquired curiously.

"Had a good friend named Woody once. He's dead now, but he would have liked a puppy." His eyes clouded over with memories as he spoke, and Trance could tell there was much more to that story than Harper was giving, but she also knew now was not the time to ask. Maybe someday…

"I think Woody is a great name for a puppy," she told him with a bright smile. "Will you let me come and play with him sometimes?"

"You can play with him anytime ya want. I wouldn't have got him if it weren't for you."

"Yes, Woody is a grand name for the nice, annoying little mutt," Beka butted good-naturedly into their conversation as she came through the open doorway with an armful of firewood. "Now put the little thing some place safe and let's get busy, you two! These berries won't can themselves," she added, dropping her load into the woodbox as Dylan followed her into the kitchen with a second load. "It's gonna be a long, hot night."

OOOOO

Tyr Anasazi strolled down the boardwalk of Andromeda in the gathering twilight, deep in thought. He was growing tired of this waiting game. Two weeks of watching the ranch had yielded nothing except the somewhat enjoyable opportunity to watch the Marshal make a fool out of himself pursuing the female rancher, and the less pleasurable chance to observe the Marshal and his deputies bonding with the woman and the child. While all that wonderful friendship building might fill him full of "warm fuzzies," it did nothing to further his purpose and was growing insipidly and nauseatingly tiring. The boy, Harper, at least was thriving from the continued absence of one Bobby Jensen, and most probably also from a sudden abundance of food, but Tyr needed the brute to come home if he was ever going to get anywhere.

It wasn't that he actually had to wait for Jensen. Gerentex's "orders" were superficial to his cause and only to be followed if they fit his personal agenda. He could move on Sid any time he wanted and exact his revenge, but he felt like biding his time, watching the man squirm. And Jensen annoyed him. The man was inferior and abusive and undeserving of the air he used. He found himself wanting to walk up to Beka's door and inform her of what a weakling she was keeping around, but he didn't. Still, it wouldn't hurt to make sure he knew exactly what the man was up to and how he fit into all this before proceeding, and if it worked out without complicating his plans too much, maybe tip the woman off. It was foolish to go into a situation without knowing all the variables. Besides, weapons and money harbored for trade to slavers could just as easily be sold to abolitionists, if they were to be, for example, intercepted. Helped a better cause and who was he to turn down good money.

Tyr smiled to himself at that thought as he passed in front of a darkened shop. Up ahead, the bawdy music from the saloon spilled out into the night, enticing. He knew from experience that a lot could be learned from sitting quietly and unobtrusively in the smoky corners of the local water-house, and a cool drink would be appreciated as he mulled through his thoughts. Moving as though that had been his intent all along, he turned toward the saloon but stopped when he saw Gerentex walking in. Tyr had no desire to speak to the weasely little man tonight, to be annoyed with stupid, nagging questions.

Pausing again, Tyr glanced across the street in frustration. There weren't many places that would let him casually enter and linger without drawing stares and whispers if not outright hatred, and he really would like that cold drink. Then his eyes landed on one of the newer buildings on the other side: Madame Doyle's Bar and Bordello. He'd never entered it before, but there were no blatant signs declaring he couldn't, and from the look of it, it promised to have cool drinks if nothing else.

Mind made up, Tyr strode across the dusty road as though he owned it and pushed open the swinging door.

OOOOO

The tall, blonde woman glanced up from the table she was clearing when she heard the door swing open. She didn't usually; unlike most of the other girls that worked and lived there, she didn't feel the need to flaunt herself at every male that entered, vying for their attention. Nor did she feel the need to act coy, or stand and giggle in groups, or bat her eyelashes seductively. She was good at her job, none of her customers ever complained, there was no need to make a fool of herself. She was perfectly happy tending the bar to make those extra coins needed to stay alive, rather than throw herself at every bit of riffraff that came in off the streets just to survive.

But something about the man that just walked through the doorway drew her attention, despite her usual routine. She knew him by name and reputation only, but that didn't matter in here, and he certainly fit the ideal the other girls talked dreamily about; he was tall, he was dark, and he was undeniably handsome.

This man was definitely not riffraff, despite the reputation he had managed to gather.

Not that the other girls could see that…

"Who let him in?" Jane sneered, the grease-paint caked on her face to hide the wrinkles cracking just a little.

"Madame Doyle should do something about that," Millie agreed, scrunching up her pretty, button nose.

"He won't be touching me, that's for sure. I do have my priorities," Evangeline said with a shudder.

"Well, I'm not waiting on him either," Jane agreed.

Surprising herself, the blonde woman spoke up. "Good. Because I want him," she said with a smile, leaving no doubt that the double meaning of her words was intended. She picked up a cold bottle and walked over.

He watched her approach, his eyes cool and guarded, but not necessarily hard. She leaned one hip against his table and placed the bottle in front of him, matching his stare.

"I haven't ordered yet," he said after a moment, his voice slow and smooth.

"I know," she replied, still meeting his eyes.

"I only came in for a drink."

"We can start with the drink."

"People will talk."

"Let them, it keeps them occupied."

The man smiled at that and she noticed he had very nice teeth. She also took it as an invitation, pulling him to his feet by his sleeve. He didn't resist.

"You're bold, even for a woman of your occupation. I appreciate a woman who knows what she wants, and I'm not opposed to the pleasure myself, but think carefully. The people in this town will not approve, me choosing a woman like you."

"Oh, but you didn't choose me," she answered. "I chose you."

At that he actually laughed. "That you did, my lady, that you did. May I ask your name, so that we may be properly introduced?"

"Freya. Now, if you'll please come with me, Tyr Anasazi…"

OOOOO

Beka pushed her limp, sweaty hair off her forehead as she stirred the sticky, bubbling mess in the pot. Through gritted teeth, she counted the last remaining minutes off before moving the pot of boiling jam off to the edge to cool slightly. She then sighed wearily and stretched her aching back, before turning to glance at the far corner of the kitchen.

The sight made her smile, despite her exhaustion.

Harper was curled in a ball on the floor, puppy cradled protectively in his arms, and both were sleeping soundly, in spite of the heat. He looked so peaceful and so young, lying there with his pet, his dirty, bare feet half in the empty bucket he'd been washing raspberries in only an hour ago. Trance and Dylan had left long before, but Harper had doggedly kept going, running, fetching, stirring, etc., until his body had finally overridden his stubbornness and sleep caught up with him. She'd needed the help, but he needed the sleep even more, so she'd left him, but now she had no choice but to wake him up. The animals still needed tending to for the night, and she couldn't leave the jam to do it.

"Harper," she called softly, gently shaking his shoulder. "Harper, I need you for a minute."

Harper flinched harshly at her touch. His eyes sprung open and he was instantly awake, cowering back into the wall and trying to make himself as small as possible. His sudden movements woke Woody the pup as well, who started to whimper.

"Hey, kiddo," Beka said quickly, holding her hands non-threateningly in front of her, her heart breaking at the instinctual fear she saw reflected in those clear, blue eyes. "It's just me, Beka. I'm not gonna hurt you, I promise."

After a short moment, Harper's eyes cleared with recognition, and he sat up quickly, embarrassed.

"Sorry, thought you were someone else…" he mumbled, stroking Woody to calm them both down. "Didn't mean to fall asleep, Boss."

"Not a problem, you needed the rest. In fact, I'd have left you asleep, but the stock still needs feeding and then everything needs to be closed up for the night. I can't leave the jam right now. Think you can handle that on your own?"

The boy smiled cheekily. "Is my name Seamus Zelazny Harper?"

"Are you seriously willing to admit to that?" Beka teased back, holding out a hand to help him to his feet. She frowned when she saw him wince slightly as the skin on his back stretched, and made a mental note to fetch Rev again tomorrow, but chose to ignore the obvious for the moment. "Here," she added, holding out her hands once he was up, "leave the dog here with me. I promise I'll look after him and you will do your chores a whole lot better without a wiggly puppy to hold onto."

"Aw, Boss!" Harper whined. "But I was gonna introduce him to Deloris and Athena."

"They'd probably squash the runt before they knew it was there."

"He's not an it, Boss. He has a name," the young man stressed, a Beka sensed the subject was strangely important and sensitive to him.

"Sorry," she apologized. "You're right. Now Woody will be just fine in here, sleeping in his box while I finish the jam. But if I stand here talking with you much longer, it just might petrify so go on and git!" she said with a friendly swat to the back of his head. He grinned and jumped nimbly out of her way, then stuck his tongue out at her before dashing out the back door. Beka laughed and rolled her eyes, then held Woody up and looked into his face. "What would you suggest I do with that boy?" she asked.

Woody just closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

OOOOO

Harper smiled to himself as he refilled the hens' empty water pail. All around him in the dark, the birds clucked at him with annoyance, disgusted he would disturb their sleep at an hour such as this. When a huge yawn forced its way out of his own mouth, he couldn't help smiling even more. It wasn't unusual for him to feel tired, or more likely, exhausted to the bone, but for the first time in his life, he wasn't feeling guilty about it. He'd worked hard today and enjoyed it. He had a new pet all his own; his stomach was full, he had a soft bed waiting for him, and a great boss who would insist on him using it. Life just didn't get any better than that!

In the dark, he stumbled slightly and banged the metal bucket against the wall. The quiet clucking rose sharply to an indignant squawking.

"Aw, hush, ye old biddies!" Harper muttered rubbing the toe he'd stubbed. "I'm leaving, I'm leaving!"

He exited out into the moonlight and latched the door behind him. Swinging the bucket slightly and humming a jig under his breath, he was in good spirits as he made his way to the barn to put the pail away and make sure Deloris and Athena were safe in their stalls for the night.

Those good spirits crashed quickly when he turned the corner and saw the barn door was open. Instantly, his instincts kicked in and he went on guard, silently slipping inside the dimly lit building.

A small wagon was parked in the open middle of the barn, filled with hay. Harper frowned. Why would someone come out to the Maru in the middle of the night just to park a full wagon of hay in the barn? Then something glinted in the lantern light at him from under the hay. Wary, but curious, he crept over and pushed the grass back. A stack of wicked looking rifles gleamed brightly, and he sucked in a quick breath, his heart quickening. Frantically, he searched through the hay, caution abandoned. His efforts produced two more piles of weapons, several barrels of gunpowder, and at least five crates of supplies, and that was just what he could reach at the edge without climbing up on the wagon.

He was beyond curious and confused now, he was panicking. He had no idea what this was for, or what was going on, but whatever it was it had to be bad, and he was sure Beka needed to know about it. He turned to run back to the house just as a big, beefy hand clamped down on his shoulder with bruising force. Another one snaked out of the blue to cover his mouth and smoother the scream before it could leave his lips.

"I knew you were gonna be trouble, right from the moment I saw ya," a voice hissed in his ear. His eyes widened in alarm and recognition.

"That's right, boy, I'm back, and the cushy life of having Beka wrapped around your finger is over, too." He squeezed harder on his sore shoulders, Harper's struggles to get away only making Bobby angrier.

Out of desperation and a need for oxygen, Harper bit Bobby hard on the hand. With a curse, the big man flung him to the ground, and he wasted no time in scrambling to his feet and for the door.

A painful blow to the back stopped him and knocked him on to the ground before he could even reach the first stall. Once again, he went down gasping as the still tender flesh on his back cried out in protest. Bobby was seething, madder than an angry hornet, and he had no choice but to curl in a ball and let the blows rain down, hoping it would stop soon. Despite the pain, he was still coherent enough to notice Bobby avoided areas that would leave bruising Beka, or anyone else, could see. This beating was meant to be a secret between the two of them.

After a few minutes, it was over, and Harper found himself hauled to his feet once more, but this time was different. This time the cold bite of sharp steel met him as Bobby held him firmly, pressed close to the soft skin of his neck.

"You listen to me, boy," he growled, menace and hate lacing his voice. "I'd like nothing better than to dispose of you right now and dump your sorry carcass for the vultures to pick clean. You're poaching on my territory, messing with what's rightfully mine, but Beka's taken a shine to you and she'd ask uncomfortable questions, questions I'd rather not deal with right now. On the other hand, with your sneaky, thieving ways, you've managed to uncover something no one was ever meant to see. So, here's the deal. You forget everything you saw here tonight. Everything! Including the fact that I ever touched you. You do that, and I'll let you live. But if you ever breathe a word of what you just found to anyone, I'll kill ya, and I'll hurt Beka as well. So it's up to you, her safety is in your hands. Got it?"

Seething inside with helplessness and rage, Harper nodded carefully, painfully aware of the knife at his throat.

"And you also understand that it's my right to treat you as the trash you are, so no running to Beka, or that monk of hers, with tales of woe and how Bobby's been being mean to you, or beating you."

Harper nodded again, teeth gritted.

"Good," Bobby said, releasing him slowly. As soon as he was able too, Harper pulled away and put a few yards between them. "Glad we understand one another then. Now, you go in and you'd better put on a darn good act when I surprise Beka in a few minutes! Remember, boy, your life and hers depend on it."

Shaking from more than just fear, Harper dragged himself from the barn, aching all over his body, but mostly in his heart. What would Beka think of him, hiding something like this from her? How could he not? He could never risk Beka's life, not after everything she'd done for him. In the past, he would have just taken off, but now he found he couldn't. He'd come to care about Beka and the Maru, and he couldn't just leave them to Bobby's intentions. He just hoped his boss could protect herself, and could somehow protect Woody from Bobby's wrath as well, even if she couldn't save him from it. He didn't know what he'd do if the brute decided to hurt his puppy, too.

Feeling lost and scared and more worried than he had ever been in his life from the responsibility of other lives depending on his actions, Harper scrunched up his eyes and willed himself not to cry as he climbed the steps. Then he slipped on his best poker face and entered the kitchen, trying not to wince with every step.

OOOOO

"Beka, baby, I'm home!"

Beka looked up in shock as the back door burst open and the burly, handsome frame of one Bobby Jensen strode through. All righteous anger and indignation she felt toward him for leaving so long melted away as he placed a big kiss on her lips.

"Mmm, that's nice," she smiled.

"Miss me?" he teased, his eyes glinting playfully.

"More than you can know," she responded, allowing herself to get lost in those gorgeous eyes.

"Let me make it up to you then," Bobby offered, wrapping his arms around her.

Smiling, she pushed away. "Not for another half an hour," she said firmly. "Gotta wait for this last batch of jam."

"Aw, who needs jam at a time like this. Let the runt finish it."

A thread of her former worries and annoyance crept back into Beka at his words, and she frowned, glancing toward Harper and hating that Bobby talked about him like that, right in front of him. The boy was gathering up the box with his puppy in it, moving slowly and purposefully not meeting her eyes. He looked utterly exhausted.

"No, I told him to go to bed. He's worked hard and he needs the rest. Besides, you've been gone for more than two weeks, what's another half an hour to wait?"

Feeling sickened, Harper took that as his cue to leave and quickly hurried from the kitchen and up the stairs to his room, puppy gripped tightly in his arms. Beka was glad Bobby hadn't noticed the newest addition to their little family yet, sure it wouldn't go over with a great success, but they'd cross that bridge in the morning. Besides, it didn't really matter. It was still her ranch and she had the final say.

And then she didn't think any more about boys and puppies and bridges. She was too distracted trying to stir her jam while Bobby planted soft kisses along the base of her neck.