Thank you to everyone who has commented and messaged, I really do appreciate the support (and it's very motivating!) Big things ahead in the next two chapters, so stay tuned... Enjoy!

Meanwhile, back at the Sherman Ranch…

Chapter 7: Slim to the Rescue

"I'm not sure how much longer we'll make it out here, Mary, with cattle prices the way they are."

A brutally cold winter and dry spring had wreaked havoc on the herd over the past year. The hot summer they were having now was not helping matters. The Shermans, along with just about every rancher in the area, had borrowed money from the bank to cover their losses. The bills were coming due, but live cattle prices had stayed low. It seemed like every market in the territory had been topsy turvy thanks to the war in the east, and they were truly caught in a tight spot. If they could only make it through to next spring and the next round of calving, they just might build enough collateral to make it through.

The one market that had remained steady was saddle broken horses, thanks to the army taking all the horses they could get. It took a lot of cavalry to fight both the southern states and the native tribes at the same time. Slim had taken it upon himself that summer to round up as many mustangs as he could to help make ends meet.

He had just gotten home from one of his round-up trips and it was late. Slim had been about to walk into the kitchen when he overheard his pa's voice. Slim stopped, frozen, as he listened to the words. He knew he was shielded from his mother so she wouldn't have known he was there, but there was no way his father hadn't heard his footsteps approach the door. Pa wanted me to hear, wanted me to understand how serious this is, but he doesn't want Ma to know he told me, Slim realized. His parents very rarely disagreed on something this important. Slim stood still, considering what to do next. In the end, he took his hand off the latch and crept away from the door as silently as he could.

It had been two months since Slim overheard his father. The eight horses he'd managed to bring in were almost ready to be sold, and he knew both his parents and Jonesy were proud of how hard he'd worked on his project. It wouldn't be nearly enough money to solve the problem, but it would be more than they had now. There were rumors going around that territory about a possible army draft. Slim just hoped he'd be able to finish the job before his number was called.

Today, however, Slim was not breaking horses. He wasn't fixing fences, looking for strays, or doing any of the rest of the ranch work waiting at home. Slim, his pa, the sheriff, and some other men from town were combing the hillsides for a missing little girl and her pony.

According to the girl's older brothers, all three children had been playing in the yard that morning. The boys, 11 and 13 years old, had convinced their seven-year-old sister Amelia that they were going to run away. Instead, the boys had hidden in the woodshed, hoping to scare their sister. She hadn't found them and eventually the boys had gotten tired of the game, not realizing that Amelia was looking for them a lot farther away. By the time their mother had asked where little Amelia was, the girl had been missing for hours. Her pa sent for the sheriff the minute he found her little pony missing from the barn. All of the neighbors divided into twos and threes, searching in all directions. After all, how far can such a little girl get on a small pony? Apparently, the answer was farther than they had thought. Slim couldn't quite block out the feelings of panic rolling off of the girl's mother when they returned for the suppertime check-in empty handed.

Matt, Slim, and the sheriff, Cal, were riding together in a new direction. It was getting dark, and Slim didn't need to be a sentinel to know there was a late summer lighting storm moving in. Flash flooding was a real concern due to how dry it had been this year. They had to find her, and they had to find her fast. They pulled their horses up on a high bluff, overlooking the next valley. The dark, heavy clouds were rolling across the sky and the wind was starting to pick up.

"Matt, if there was ever a time to do whatever it is you do, this would be it," said Cal.

Matt closed his eyes and furrowed his brows, his lips set in a thin line. "Trust me, I know," he muttered back.

Slim was trying too, even if his gifts weren't nearly as useful at tracking people as his father's were. He took a deep breath and relaxed his mind, focusing on finding any flicker of life in the surrounding area. All he could find was his father and the sheriff's combined frustration.

Matt turned and looked at Slim, hearing his heartbeat slow as his son focused. He knew Slim had come a long way with his abilities over the last three years. At nineteen years old, Slim was a striking young man, and there was no longer any doubt of who was taller. Matt cocked his head to the side and Slim glanced over at him.

"Pa, I don't know what you're thinking, but I don't think I can be much help. I already tried," Slim said.

"There's one thing we haven't tried yet, but I'll need you to come over here," Matt replied. He swung his leg over his saddle and dismounted. Slim did the same and stood next to his father. Matt put his right hand on Slim's chest, directly over his heart, and put his left on Slim's shoulder. Cal looked on in silence.

"I need you to guide me, son," he said with a small smile. Slim's eyes widened. He shook his head, opening his mouth to protest, but his father cut him off. "You'll do fine. Just give me a few minutes to focus, and then start talking to me, low and slow. Doesn't matter what about. I'll just be listening for your voice." He tipped his head to look past his son to the sheriff. "Cal? I'd appreciate it if you held as still and silent as you can." Cal nodded.

"Pa, I don't think I'm ready for this. We've never even tried before. What if I lose you?" Slim asked under his breath, hoping the sheriff couldn't hear.

"I'll be using your heartbeat under my palm as an anchor. Just don't let that stop beating and we'll all be fine. And don't forget to keep your mind as open as you can, so you can tell if something's wrong. Quiet now, son. In about five minutes, start talking again." Matt closed his eyes.

The wind ruffled Slim's hair, blowing the strands out of place and onto his forehead. Slim stayed quiet. Large drops of rain were starting to fall, and Slim worried the rain would distract his pa from the task at hand. After the first few moments, however, Slim started to relax. He focused on his breathing, keeping it deep and even, his heart beat steady.

Without even consciously deciding to, Slim started to speak. His voice was low, resonating in his chest, and as smooth as molasses. He talked about the pretty sorrel mare he'd managed to rope for the army. He talked about the lead rope she'd snapped the first time he tried to tie her. Slim felt his father's fingertips twitch against his shirt. Encouraged, Slim spoke just a little louder. This time he talked about the only buckskin in the bunch, who had acted plumb loco until Slim finally got a bit in the horse's mouth. After that, the buckskin had taken to a rider like a duck to water. Slim was pretty sure the horse had already been broken once before and just needed a reminder.

Just as Slim was running out of horses to mention, Matt's eyes snapped open. "Mount up, boy, we've got to hurry," his father said grimly. Both of them swung into their saddles. "I think we can make it, but it'll be close," Matt called, already charging down the hill. Slim and Cal shot off after him, into the storm, without a moment of hesitation.

They rode for miles in a seemingly random direction, following Matt. He didn't let up, and the other two followed blindly through the sheets of rain. Slim almost crashed straight into his father's horse when they finally stopped. Swinging out of the saddle, he followed his father over to what he now realized was a dry creek bed. At least, it had probably been dry a few hours before. Now, Slim could see the banks crumbling away a little at a time as water rushed through. The current was getting stronger and the water was getting deeper.

Over the roar of the churning water and the howl of the storm, Matt shouted to them. "She's close, but I can't pinpoint her!" Slim ran downstream as his father ran upstream with the sheriff. He stared into the roiling muddy water, fearing the worst. Slim looked hard for any sign of the girl, hoping and praying that wherever she was, she could hang on a little longer. We're right here, girl, hang tight, Slim thought, imagining that she could find the strength to survive if only he could somehow let her know they were there. The stream was almost eight feet across now and the level was rising quickly. More of the bank crumbled away next to Slim's boots as he tried desperately to wipe the rain from his eyes. He reached a point where some larger tree trunks had gotten caught, creating a swirling pool behind the makeshift dam.

Smil felt something nagging at the back of his mind. He stopped and turned to look back upstream. "The other side!" he heard his father call faintly from his position. Slim pulled his gun belt off and tossed it up onto the bank as he waded into the water. His foot slipped and his head went under. He popped up quickly, realizing the water would be too deep for him to stand in the middle. Where is she? Slim thought desperately. He dove forward, kicking hard against the current trying to drag him farther downstream. If only I could see her! Pa, I have to know where she is! Slim turned his body upstream, blindly fighting toward an unknown destination.

Through his desperation, he thought he felt a negative nudge. Slim had long since learned to trust his gut when it came to his gifts, so he changed direction to follow the current. The nudge felt encouraging this time. Slim kicked harder. He reached the roots of one of the downed trees, but as he reached out, his fingers met something much smoother than bark. A hand. Slim pulled himself forward and found his own hold on the tree as he moved his free hand down under water, following the arm. Finally, he wrapped his own long arm around the small waist and pulled the girl to the surface. She coughed and spluttered while breathtaking relief washed through Slim. He had her, and she was alive.

Before he could even wonder what to do next, a lariat sailed overhead. With a leap of faith, Slim released his hold on the tree and grabbed for the rope. Slowly but surely, the rope dragged them through the current and to safety. Strong hands grabbed his shirt and hauled him out of the water, away from the edge, pulling Amelia along with him. Slim lay on the ground, exhausted, as someone pulled Amelia away from him. He felt a leather gloved hand tapping his face. He opened bleary eyes to see his pa kneeling over him, asking if he was okay, while Cal wrapped little Amelia in his leather slicker. Slim smiled and nodded, closing his eyes again. He would be just fine.

Slim became aware again as someone was trying to help him down off a horse, another body sitting behind and steadying him. "Easy does it now, he's coming around," his father said, close to Slim's ear. Slim tried to help but ended up sliding pretty gracelessly into the arms of the man next to the horse. Mr. Prescott, Amelia's pa, Slim realized. His father dismounted and the two men half carried Slim into the house. Matt tugged off his son's boots and wet clothes before wrapping him in a warm blanket, settling him on a cot by the fireplace.

"We have to get the horses in the barn, Pa," Slim said, his voice weak.

"Don't worry about that now, honey, the boys are taking care of it. Just let us get you two warmed up again," came his mother's voice. Slim blinked and looked around. When did Mama get here? he wondered. His mother smiled softly at his confusion. "I brought the wagon over when you and your pa didn't make it home for supper. I knew Mrs. Prescott would be in for a long night alone, with all of you out looking." That made sense. Ma's always finding ways to care for people. Slim closed his eyes for what felt like the thousandth time that day and sighed, rolling to his side. His muscles felt as soft as overcooked carrots. I hate overcooked carrots. Slim heard his father snort, trying to muffle a laugh. Slim wasn't sure what was so funny. He could feel his mother's amusement too, playful and comforting in his mind. "Sleep now, honey, we'll still be here in the morning," Mary's voice told him. Slim dropped off almost before his mother stopped speaking, lulled to sleep by her comforting tone.

Slim woke slowly the next morning. He noticed that the fire had burned low, the coals barely glowing, and the weak light behind the curtains told him it was still very early. Jonesy's probably milking the cows right about now, he thought. He also realized he wasn't alone in his borrowed cot. Tucked into the crook of his arm was a fluffy pile of light brown hair and a chubby toddler fist. Slim felt the little ball of energy in his mind that he recognized as Andy. Slim smiled and pulled the boy closer to his chest. These days, the only time the three-year-old held still enough for a hug was while he was sleeping.

Their mother walked in from the Prescotts' kitchen. "He was so worried about you last night, he wouldn't settle anywhere except right next to you," she said softly, trying not to wake anyone else.

"I don't mind, Ma," Slim rasped. He coughed a bit and cleared his throat as Mary pulled a kitchen chair over to sit beside her sons. She handed Slim a tin cup of water, which he took gratefully.

The front door opened and closed behind Slim. "Is he awake now? Does he know where he is?" Matt asked anxiously. Slim lifted the hand not currently trapped by Andy in greeting.

"Yes, dear, I told you he'd be fine. He just spent a little more energy than he intended," Mary said to her husband. Slim didn't know what she meant by that, but he was a bit too tired to care.

"It was exactly what he needed," Matt said, running his hand over Slim's head like he had when Slim was a child. "You can go back to sleep for a while if you want, son. I'm sure the horses will appreciate more time with their oats, and I know the Prescotts are in no hurry to see you leave." Slim nodded, closing his eyes again. I haven't been this tired in years, he thought, not since the night Andy was born.

Slim dozed until Andy woke up and wanted out of bed. Slim released the small terror off into the rest of the house while he himself got dressed in borrowed clothes and slipped outside for his morning routine. When he returned, Mrs. Prescott was making breakfast while Amelia clung to her skirt. The sheriff came in as well; Slim figured he must have slept out in the bunkhouse. To Slim's surprise, Cal gave him a wary look before sitting down at the far side of the table. Amelia, on the other hand, had the opposite reaction. As soon as she saw Slim, she let go of her mother and launched herself at his legs, wrapping her arms around him.

"Thank you, Slim. I was gonna die for sure until you got me!" she said. A bit caught off guard and not used to dealing with little girls, Slim awkwardly patted her back. Opening his mind a bit, he could feel the swell of emotions she was trying to wrangle. He smiled down at her.

"Well, Miss Amelia, I couldn't hardly leave you there now could I?" he asked her. She beamed up at him.

"No, sir! Mama and me is a' makin' you breakfast to say thanks for saving me. You can have one of my brothers' spots at the table on account of mama says they're eatin' outside for the rest of forever after yesterday," she told Slim matter-of-factly. Slim nodded seriously in understanding and sat down in the chair she pulled back for him.

Slim was distracted through breakfast. Everyone assumed he must still be half asleep, but he was thinking. He could feel happiness and gratitude from the Prescotts along with pride from his parents. Underneath that, though, Slim felt an undercurrent of fear. He looked up at the sheriff who promptly looked away. Huh, Slim thought, finishing his biscuit as Mrs. Prescott immediately served him another.

Amelia told her whole story as the group ate. She had realized her brothers must have tricked her but had gotten lost when she tried to return home. When the rain started, the lightning spooked her pony and she fell into the creek. "I thought I was gonna be drowned for sure, until I heard Slim calling for me to hang tight. As soon as I heard him, I knew I could make it. And then he grabbed me!" Amelia finished, beaming at her hero. Slim looked up blankly. He couldn't remember calling for Amelia. He only remembered being so desperate to find her he could hardly breathe. Thankfully, Amelia didn't notice his reaction. She had already moved on to ask her pa if he thought the pony would find his own way home or if they needed to rescue him. The sheriff excused himself from the table rather abruptly following Amelia's story.

After the meal, goodbyes were said and the wagon was hitched. Mary asked Slim to hold Andy in the wagon for her and he readily agreed. He sat in the bed of the wagon with his back resting against the seat and his long legs stretched out in front of him, Andy on his lap. He wouldn't have admitted it, but he didn't really feel ready to ride all the way back to the ranch. Mary flicked the reins and the wagon rolled down toward the main road with Matt, Cal, and Slim's horse following behind. When they got to the road, ready to part ways, the sheriff stopped.

Matt leveled his gaze at his friend. "Alright now, Cal. Out with it," he said, direct but not unkind. Cal cleared his throat. He looked at the horizon and then down to the ground before looking back to Matt.

"I reckon, well, I reckon I always wondered. I wondered how you always knew which trail the posse should take, who to watch out for. But I'd never really seen it happen. I reckon, Matt, I just wasn't quite ready to see that. Or to.. To feel that," Cal finished, looking down at his hands resting on the saddle horn.

Matt nodded. "I understand it's a little different," he said, "but it doesn't change anything else. You can pretend it never happened, or you can come by the ranch sometime and I'll explain. You just let me know."

The sheriff straightened up and looked right at Slim, who was trying to hold Andy somewhat still. The sheriff held his gaze for the first time all day. "I owe you an apology, Slim. You ain't done nothin' other than what I asked you to do, and that little girl wouldn't be here without you. I hope you can forgive me."

Slim was floored as all the pieces clicked into place. Slim himself had been the cause of the sheriff's fear. The sheriff was scared of him, and he was apologizing for it. "Of course, sheriff," he said, absently nodding as we worked things though in his head.

With that, the sheriff set off toward town and the Shermans toward their home. Slim watched as the sheriff rode over the crest of the hill and out of sight. "Pa," Slim said, as his father rode up next to the wagon, "what exactly happened last night to make the sheriff so scared?"

Matt gave his son a wry smile. "What happened, son, is you turned out to be a bit more of a natural at this than I realized," he said. Andy made a break for the side of the wagon, but Slim grabbed him and hauled the little boy back onto his lab. Indignant, Andy scrunched up his face, pointing at the cows off in the distance. He then proceeded to tell Slim all about the cows in his garbled run-on sentences. By the time Slim looked up again, his father had ridden ahead of the wagon. His ma clicked her tongue to the team, looking forward to being home again soon.

By the time they reached the ranch, Slim was feeling more like himself. Jonesy met them in the yard. Together, he and Slim put the horses and wagon away while Mary took Andy in the house for a nap. Matt was already heading out to check the stock after being gone for so long. Slim spent the rest of the day tackling the barn and yard chores. As soon as Andy was awake he came out to "help" Slim and generally get under foot while Slim soaped harnesses. Before he knew it, his ma was ringing the triangle bell for supper. Slim scooped up a giggling Andy and walked to the house with his brother on his shoulders. Andy was delighted to be the first one to see their pa riding in, thanks to his new vantage point.

Supper consisted of a beef and vegetable stew with buttered bread and baked apples. Mary, holding Andy on her lap while the family ate, watched Slim take a bite of his stew.

"I hope those carrots aren't too overcooked for you, dear," she said casually. Slim, meanwhile, just about choked on the carrot in question. Matt laughed and Andy giggled while Jonesy mostly looked curious, waiting for an explanation.

Matt turned to Jonesy. "He projected last night, for the first time," he said, and Jonesy raised his eyebrows.

"Ah, I see," said Jonesy, returning his attention to his plate.

"Well, I don't see," Slim grumbled, his frustration starting to build after regaining his breath. "If someone is willing to share, I'd just about love to hear it." He'd had just about enough cryptic answers for one day.

Mary smiled at her oldest, placing her hand on his arm. "It's alright, Slim, we're just having a bit of fun with you. I couldn't hardly believe it when your pa told me last night, not until I felt it for myself."

Matt was beaming, and Slim could feel the pride rolling off of him, filling the kitchen. "While you were looking for Amelia, you were beside yourself, wanting her to know we were there to help, right?" he asked. Slim nodded. "Well, I knew that, because I could hear you calling out to her, telling her to hold tight. In my mind, I could hear you. When you dove into the water, I heard you ask me to help you, to tell you where she was. And you heard my answer," Matt said, watching Slim's reaction.

"Pa, I don't know what you're getting at. My throat was half full of mud at the time. There's no way I called to you," Slim said, shaking his head. He frowned as he tried to think back and remembered what Amelia had said at breakfast. She'd also thought she had heard Slim's voice.

"Slim, projecting is a skill some guides have, where they can push their feelings outward where another person can feel them. I was never able to do it until after I bonded with your pa, and then still only with him or you boys once in a while," Mary said. "The fact that you could do it, without a stable bond with a sentinel and to someone who isn't family, is really quite impressive," she continued, giving Slim's and a squeeze on the table. He shifted his fingers and squeezed back. "Just like the night you found the vet and brought him out here to help me and little Andy, you were under a lot of pressure. It seems like your gifts found a way to help you without you even knowing it."

His pa took up where she left off. "Amelia said she heard you tell her to hold tight. The same words specifically that I heard you use. That's a few steps beyond just impressing your feelings on someone," he said. "You were half out of your head by the time we got you back to the house. Your mind didn't seem to know how to stop projecting once you started." Matt chuckled. "Slim, son, you could have told us you don't like carrots." Even Jonesy grinned at that comment.

Slim just shook his head in disbelief. He'd had no idea that was even possible, and yet somehow he must have managed it. He couldn't ignore the evidence at hand. Suddenly, a few more pieces fell into place and Slim's face paled.

"The sheriff?" he asked.

Matt winced. "Yeah, son, I'm pretty sure he heard you too. I'll be honest with you, when your mind broke through and your thoughts came in, the force of your emotion was pretty strong. I imagine it was a jarring experience for someone not like us, who's never felt that before. Cal will come around, you'll see," he said, waving his hand as if waving all their concerns away. Slim got up to clean the table, collecting the empty dishes as he went. He hoped it would be that simple.

Slim and Jonesy did the dishes while Mary put Andy to bed and Matt checked on things in the barn one last time. When he was done, Slim slipped out to the front porch. He hitched one leg up onto the railing, leaned back against the beam supporting the roof and left his other foot on the floorboards. He silently watched the stars come out. Just as the moon was starting to rise, Mary joined him and sat in her rocker.

"Penny for your thoughts?" she asked. Slim had taken to closing himself off mentally, and Mary understood. He was grown now and entitled to keep his private feelings to himself, but she did sometimes miss being able to read his emotions as easily as she could read Andy's.

Slim sighed and shook his head, looking down at his hands. "Not sure they're worth a whole penny at the moment. I haven't quite got things sorted out yet," he told her. They sat together for a while without saying a word. Gradually, Slim became aware he was relaxing. His eyes started to droop and a warm, contented feeling started to grow in his chest. Just as gradually, the feeling started to recede, and Slim started to realize he was drifting back to his original contemplative mood. He furrowed his eyebrows.

"That," Mary told her son quietly, "is how projecting can feel." Slim leaned his head back against the beam, still watching the stars. His mother continued. "It doesn't have to be driven out of fear or desperation. There were a lot of nights I lulled you and Andy to sleep using that very skill. I wanted to say I'm sorry that your first experience was so hard."

Slim closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose. Some of the tension started to leave his shoulders. "I appreciate that, Mama," he said into the darkness. "I've felt other people's fear before, but I'd never actually felt someone be scared of me. Of what I can do." Slim was quiet for a moment. "Especially not a friend, not the sheriff."

Behind him, he heard the creak of his mother rocking back in her chair. "I will say that it does get easier. When you find a match, I mean," She said. "We talk a lot about sentinels needing a guide to keep them centered, but there aren't as many legends about a guide needing a sentinel. It's true that we can live more independently, but we still need their strength to really use our gifts to the fullest."

Slim considered their words from earlier. "Ma, you said that you weren't able to project until you bonded with Pa. What's it like? Having a bond you weren't born with, I guess is what I mean." Slim turned his head to see his mother, face highlighted by the lamplight spilling from the window behind her.

Mary smiled. "That, sweetheart, is a good question." She thought about it for a moment. "You said you think of your bonds like a river, right? A flow of feelings?" Slim nodded. "I suppose this one is different because you have to build it, like plaiting or weaving, I suppose. The more time you spend on it, the stronger it gets, and the better match you two have, the easier it is to build," Mary said, fondly remembering the day she had met Matt. "After it's built, the bond can be like a lifeline; something firm to pull against. Having that in place helps you find more strength to channel your energy and use your skills intentionally."

Slim thought about that for a while, turning to look out into the yard again. He figured it made good sense. After all, Slim was pretty sure just about every relationship in the world, whether between family, friends, or even a man and his horse, took time to build. "Can anything break it, once it's built?" Slim asked.

"Not generally, no. Distance and the like can affect it in some ways, but once you're together again things settle back in place. I've never heard of a broken bond before," Mary answered. Slim nodded again. He figured that was good. Mary stood, giving Slim a kiss on the cheek. "I'm off to bed now, don't stay up too late. It'll be clearer in the morning," she said, as Slim returned the good night gesture. She went back inside and closed the door.

Slim stayed where he was for a while longer, watching the stars and listening to the coyotes yap. For the first time, Slim felt a little excited at the prospect of finding his sentinel. It would be nice to actually be in control of himself. He sighed, getting up and heading off to his bed as his excitement started to fade again. There was one thing Slim knew for certain: It was just plain unlikely he'd ever meet his sentinel in Laramie, Wyoming.