Chapter 2

The lamp had gone out when Lucas startled from uneasy sleep. With a soundless oath he stood, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He'd meant to stay awake until the youngster returned with the cow. By the looks of the stars, it was after midnight. It shouldn't have taken the kid as long…

A sound reached his ear – could be a cow's low cough, or a mountain lion. Grabbing his rifle, he noiselessly stepped onto the porch.

The dun stallion stood in the yard, over where the horse corral was. He seemed half asleep, which reassured McCain – if a predator was around, the horses would throw alarm, especially one like Spirit. He'd have to ask Eirik about breeding him…

Lucas quickly walked over to the small corral reserved for calving or a bull. Bessie was there all right, and the young man was sitting at her head, stroking her nose and flank, speaking in low, calming tones.

Speaking no language Lucas could identify. He stood watching the scene for a long moment, considering this contradictory young man. He certainly had a hand for animals.

Bessie had settled down, munching contentedly.

Donelly swung over the corral without making a sound, his movements slow and tired. Well, rightly so, Lucas thought.

"Eirik." he pitched his voice low, not wanting to disturb the animals.

The farmhand's reaction was unexpected and explosive. Donelly had bent down to retrieve the long stave he had put on the floor dealing with Bessie, and at Lucas' address startled badly, flying around in a lightning-quick move that landed him in a defensive stance, the wooden stick's end resting almost against Lucas' throat.

Automatically the tall man had his rifle at the ready. "Donelly! It's me!"

The boy took a step back, beyond words for a moment. His breath came fast, a white cloud in the cold air. "I'm sorry, Mr. McCain. You startled me."

"I gathered that." Lucas put all the irony he could muster into his voice. "Met with trouble? You took a long time."

"No trouble, just Bessie being stubborn. I - I took the roundabout way, it was too dark to get her here safely via the decline."

"Good man. Come, there's food left."

"Sir, I'm exhausted. I appreciate it, but I'd rather go to bed."

Lucas frowned a little. There was something raw in the boy's voice… "Sure. See you in the morning. And thanks, for bringing in Bessie."

"'t was no trouble, Mr. McCain. Good Night."

The tall man looked after the slender one with a worried expression. There were a few things about this boy that needed thinking over.

…

"Next morning, Eirik was the same as always. Awake before Mark or me, fed the animals, took care of Bessie, started with the chores of the day. Seemed almost chipper in the cold air." Lucas grumbled over his coffee.

Micah grinned at his friend. "So he's good with that staff. I mean he couldn't have survived without any guns if he didn't have skills somewhere else."

"Oh, that didn't surprise me much, Micah. That lazy soft way he moves - almost like a predator. No. – I'm fairly certain he was speaking some kind of native dialect."

Micah let that stand, frowning. Natives were an uneasy subject in these parts. "Mark said you got a healthy calf."

"Oh, aye, didn't take more than three days for Bessie to wake us all in the night. It was five hours hard work, but both the cow and the calf are healthy. Donelly's got good instincts."

"And you're no newcomer yourself. Got a good hand there, Lucas. I'm glad for you."

"Aye, good with Mark, hard-working, but not a word about his past. Something bothers me about him."

"Maybe you'll just have to ask him…"

"Aye. But many a man left for the wrong question, and that would be a pity."

"At least he's coming to town these days. Folk's been mighty curious. Handsome boy like that... Seems Miss Schuler tried to tell him off for interfering, but he won her over real quick."

"Oh?"

"She was suspicious of him, and now watch her simpering."

It was true, McCain noted with a smirk. The schoolteacher was a pretty woman, cornrows of blond hair crowned a round face with smart, quick blue eyes. Her hands were dainty and soft, but she had a no-nonsense personality combined with a pearly laugh that had the children love and respect her at the same time.

"You're coming for dinner, Micah? Mark brought home quite a catch today."

"Happy to, Lucas. Curious whether that young man will join us, or find a place to eat in town."

McCain grinned outright. "Best of luck to him." The two young people made a lovely picture.

"Right, see you later, Sherriff."

Approaching the pair, Lucas resolved to ask the young man a few pointed questions at the next opportunity. "G'day to you, Miss Schuler. Donelly, I just wanted to let you know that I'll be riding back now. Mark is staying with a friend and will ride home later with Sherriff Torrance. Would you pick up the last of the horseshoes before you come up to the farm?"

"Right, , I wanted to ask the smith something anyways. I'll ride with you now."

He took his leave of the schoolteacher with honest friendliness.

…..

Micah Torrence made no secret of his delight in the fresh fish. Mark tried to hide his pride, but as all of the three men at the table fawned over the food, the boy's proud smile broke free.

"Maybe next time I'll give one trout to you, Eirik, so you can give it to Miss Schuler. She said she liked fresh fish."

Lucas and Micah exchanged a glance. But Donelly answered without pause.

"Well, Mark, I'm sure I'd rather join you and fish for myself, and I'm sure Miss Schuler would be very happy if you gave her the fish yourself."

Mark, undeterred, pushed on. "She's a mighty fine woman, wouldn't you say?"

"Oh absolutely. She's really smart and funny, too."

"And beautiful, I mean that hair…"

"Mark, don't overdo it." Micah admonished gently.

Eirik looked up, alerted by the tone of the older man's voice. Finding barely repressed mirth and good-natured teasing in both men's faces and studied innocence in the boy's, he let out a breath, pulling a face that had the other men laugh out loud.

"Oh bloody hell." He blushed lightly. "I walked right into that one, didn't I. Look, she's an impressive girl, no mistake, but I am not looking for a wife."

"Does she know that, lad?" Micah managed his usual half steel, half teasing tone.

The young man met the inquisitive glance with a stubborn twist to his lips. "Thanks for the warning, Sheriff. I'll keep it in mind. Here, Mark, I'll help you with the dishes."

While the two young men worked, Micah and Lucas stepped out onto the porch. They could hear the farmhand and the boy joking and fighting.

"I have to ask that farmhand of yours after his horse, I've never seen such a magnificent animal, Lucas."

"You do that, Micah." Lucas answered while lighting a cigar. Lighting Micah's too, the tall man rested against the crock. "Stay for a bit, will you? It's been a while."

They smoked in silence.

It had become quiet in the inner room, and the door opened to the lanky silhouette.

"Cigar?" Lucas offered.

"No, thanks."

"No whiskey, no cigars, good with animals and numbers – where exactly did you come from?" Micah teased, drawing the words out.

"I like the smell, though never acquired a taste, for either." The young man shrugged, pushing his hat down on his head. "Well, thank you for dinner, Mr McCain. I'll leave -"

"Donelly, I was wondering if I might have a look at that horse of yours."

Something stiffened in the way the young man held himself, but he answered easily enough. "Certainly, Sheriff. I'll call him."

While Donelly stepped off the porch, uttering the low whistle Lucas already knew, Mark joined them. "Can I come, too?"

"Yes, but grab your coat, son, it's cold."

"But Eirik isn't wearing anything."

"Mark."

It only took the one word and the boy grudgingly retreated.

Coming toward the two men with the large stallion's head over his shoulder, Donelly's glance rested on the Marshal. "Sir, maybe take this into the barn? It's mighty cold out here."

Lucas nodded, and while the young man turned direction, shot a glance at his old friend. The sheriff looked decidedly miserable, hands burying into the pockets of his coat, collar upturned, shoulders hunched. Meeting the piercing blue eyes, an evil sparkle entered the dark ones, and Lucas had to keep from grinning. Micah was playacting, for what reason would probably become clear soon.

Mark came running after them, two lamps in hand.

"Ever thought of breeding him, Eirik?" Lucas asked directly, stepping through the door and closing it behind him. It was a few degrees warmer in here, out of the cold wind. The few lamps were lit quickly.

"I've been approached a few times, but to be honest, none of the people appealed to me."

"That's a weird thing to say. I'm sure you'd have earned a lot of money…"

"Maybe. If Spirit were… Look, Sir, he's special to me, more than you could understand. Any offspring of his should have a good life. It's upon me to make sure of that."

Lucas felt his cheeks redden a little under the very direct gaze of the green eyes. There was a line there on the forehead of the young man he had not noticed before. Eirik stood with his shoulders squared, feet placed slightly apart, hands in his pockets. And still, something about his pose seemed false, studied.

"I get your meaning." Mark supported from the background. "I wouldn't hand BlueBoy to just anybody either."

The men laughed at that.

"I was just wondering that word of such a magnificent animal hasn't spread around. I mean any horse trader would quite possibly literally kill for him, or try to steal him."

While Donelly had hunched his shoulders at the first part of Micah's words, at the last half of the sentence an honest, almost sunny smile hushed over the expressive features. "All right, I guess I've got some explaining to do. The killing part may have been tried once or twice, but since I stay out of big cities for the most part, and know to take care of myself, it never worked out."

"You say you can take care of yourself – not from a shot in the back." Lucas threw in quietly.

The young man leaned against the tall horse's side, who in turn snaked his head over his shoulder to sniff at his hands and pockets. "I guess I better answer your second question first, Marshal, then the first one will be answered as well." Eirik grimaced, squaring his shoulders. One hand reached into Spirit's mane as if for support. "He's indian trained, since birth."

"What!" Mark called out, mouth hanging slightly open.

McCain tilted his head slightly and threw in calmly: "Didn't you say you were there when he was born?"

The expression in the young man's face as he met the taller man's eyes was a well-constructed distance badly hiding wariness. "Aye."

"I don't understand." Mark's voice broke the silence inquisitively. "So you bought him from them? But how could you train him indian way? You're not indian, are you? I mean your skin is too light and your hair, too. And what does that have to do with people trying to steal him?"

While the tension was still written clearly in the farmhand's stance, his lips twitched.

"Indian bread means that he recognizes me as friend more than owner, and that he will return to me if he's stolen. He'll alert me to strangers nearby, same as to a predator."

Lucas could feel Micah's glance on him, but would not move. The younger man was speaking to him mostly, and he owed it to him to honour his trust.

"Spirit saved my life more than once, and vice versa."

One last thing had to be touched. Lucas kept his voice even. "How did you get him."

Donelly pressed his lips together, head sinking forward slightly. Then he took a breath, squared his shoulders minutely and said: "I was living with the Athabasca then. Spirit was a breech foal, and the tribe had lost their healer the winter before. So they thought mare and foal were lost. I begged them to let me try and help - the mare was even more beautiful than him." He patted the slender, elegant neck affectionately. "It was agreed that should I manage to save both, the foal would be mine. I had help. Both lived. Spirit was mine." The horse rubbed his nose against Donelly's face gently, proving to Lucas how close their connection was.

"BlueBoy does that too, sometimes. He can tell when I'm upset." Mark tried to alleviate the heavy silence.

"How long did you live with the natives?" that was Micah, dry and even.

"Does that matter, Sheriff?"

"No, I guess not." The older man grumbled, eyes buried by the creases of his grimace. "Well, Lucas?"

"I'll pack my things, . I'll be gone tomorrow at daylight." Eirik's deep voice was toneless, but steely. He met the taller man's thoughtful gaze with a calm expression. The dejection could only be read in the way his shoulders slumped against the support of the stallion.

"I have only one question, Donelly. Is there anything in your past that could follow you here, endanger my son?"

"I would not have stayed had I thought so, Sir." Donelly's answer was thoughtlessly quick, his glance at the boy wide-eyed.

Lucas' hands relaxed where he had crossed them across his chest. "Then nobody's speaking of leaving."

"Oh, thank God." Mark walked over to the young man, only to be liberally slobbered by the horse. "I would sure miss you, Eirik."

"Thanks, Mark, I'd sure miss you too." The quick answer only partly masked the emotion the young man was trying to hide.

Lucas stood watching the trio, considering the last half hour with all its implications. A few observations fell into place with this piece of background, other things still did not fit. As if feeling his gaze, Eirik looked up. For a long moment the two men stood, taking each other's measure anew. The rifleman thought the ever present wariness had receded from the younger man's face, something had cleared in his expression, in the way the green eyes shone warmly suddenly.

Donelly nodded fractionally at him, wrinkles at the corners of his eyes almost showing, and Lucas nodded back. Pushing away from the chock, he addressed his son. "Let's head back to the house where it's warmer. You're welcome, too, Eirik."

"How can you sleep in this cold, anyway?" Micah grimaced, hunching his shoulders in demonstration.

"Oh, he's got the most marvellous fur!" Mark exclaimed, "He showed it to me this morning!"

"Because you practically forced me to, young man!" The relief of the last minutes still swung warmly in the young man's voice.

"It's a bear skin!" the boy was almost jumping up and down.

"Those are not often seen in these parts." Micah supplied evenly, a lilt of curiosity just noticable.

Wryly the young man pushed away from the horse, walked into the back of the barn and returned with an unobtrusive roll of cloth. Unfolding that, a truly marvellous example of what had to be a grizzly skin hung from his arms.

"You'll be warm in that, I'm certain." McCain thought there was no reason to hide how impressive that fur was.

"Did you kill it yourself?"

"Mark, enough now. Time for you to get to bed." The boy would be lost to his imagination anyway after tonight.

"I'll tell you how I got it some other time. Can't share all my secrets at once." Eirik winked at Mark, who grinned happily.

"Good night then, Eirik!"

"I'll look after the horses, Mr. McCain, and turn in, too. - Sheriff." He tipped his hat to the older man, nodded at Lucas and left the barn, the dun stallion at his heels.

"Feel better about him?" Micah asked directly.

"Aye, though I didn't think you'd have so much acting in you. Never known you to be so scared of the cold…" Lucas accused the sheriff. Laughing, they returned to the house.