Author's Note:

Hi everyone! First, a disclaimer: This is my first story (Gasp!) and I'm very excited to be posting. I do welcome comments of all kinds, so please comment away!

Next, another disclaimer (?): This is sort of a crossover with a show called The Sentinel. I'm not listing this story in the crossover section, however, because the only thing crossing over is a very loose interpretation of the premise of that show. Basically, there are a few people born as sentinels and others born as guides. The sentinels develop extra strong senses, which they use to protect their "tribe" (read: family, friends, town, whatever). The guides are meant to guide the sentinel, balance them, and help them focus their senses. Guides generally operate on feelings rather than touch or vision. Without a guide, sentinels have a hard time surviving, often falling into "zones", where one sense takes over and they can't pull themselves back to normal on their own. A guide is usually able to solve this problem. Not all sentinels and guides are a good match, and generally the idea is that every sentinel has one perfect match they're able to bond with. Sentinels and guides "come online", or develop their abilities, in times of high emotional stress or as they become adults. If you haven't read any of these stories I highly recommend seeking some out. I love the whole concept.

Lastly, my interpretation: I've never seen a sentinel/guide story set in "Ye olde times", so I'm giving it a shot! I'm operating on the idea that people who are different were not generally accepted by the public, especially in small frontier style towns. Most of our characters' understanding of what's going on comes from family stories and legends. This is why, in the beginning, the sentinel/guide ideas will not be openly discussed.

I hope you enjoy! I have several chapters already written. Most of this is backstory, and the finale is planned for the classic: Stage Stop! (But in my story… The boys might meet before that, whether they know it or not!) In theory this story will be about 6 chapters.

Chapter 1: Slim

Matthew and Mary Sherman had always been as close as two people could be. As long as Slim could remember, his father had been a fierce protecter of their home. Matt always knew when someone was riding up to the ranch house and could tell who it was long before Slim could see the horse come over the rise. His mother had a way of understanding how he was feeling before he ever admitted to being scared, angry, or sad. She'd take one look at her son and simply seem to know what was in his heart. At times Slim swore she could read his mind. Both of his parents, no matter what, could always tell when Slim was lying. This is one inconvenience Slim sometimes wished he could avoid.

At 15 years old, there are a lot of things a boy would rather hide from his family. Slim was no different than most, trying to be grown up without any real understanding of how that was done. Eight o'clock found Slim sulking at the dinner table. Jonesy, their foreman, had retired to the bunkhouse early so he could be up before dawn for the yard chores. Usually those belonged to Mary, but the doctor had warned her to take it easy with this pregnancy. As it was, only Mary, Matthew, and Slim were gathered at the table. Slim's long legs were folded under his chair and his arms wrapped around his bowl of stew; his shaggy blonde head bent forward. His mother watched him curl in on himself as she placed her hand on her round belly. She knew the redness in Slim's cheeks had less to do with the steam rising from his bowl and more to do with the embarrassment and anger rolling off his shoulders. She let him quietly pretend that there was nothing worth mentioning about his day.

Matt, on the other hand, was losing patience. He and Slim had taken the buckboard to town earlier that day for supplies. Matt had stopped by the doctor's place to update him on Mary's condition. She was sure the baby would come within the next month and Matt wanted the doctor to be ready for their call. Slim, in the meantime, was sent to the general store with a list to be filled. Matt knew his son had something else on his mind, but he let it go. Slim seemed happy enough and it was Christmas time after all. Matt assumed whatever secret mission was on Slim's mind might be gift related and he didn't want to spoil anything. Matt walked down the boardwalk back to the mercantile where they had tied the horses. Matt chuckled to himself, lost in thought. Slim didn't know it, but he wasn't the only one with Christmas gifts in mind. As soon as they had the wagon all loaded, Matt would be taking Slim down to the barbershop to get that mop of his cleaned up. Usually Mary just did her best with her sewing scissors, but as Christmas was almost upon them, the couple had agreed to let Slim have his first "man's" haircut and shave as an early gift. The shave had been Matt's idea, even if it was still mostly blonde peach fuzz on Slim's cheeks.

When he reached the buckboard, however, he found Slim throwing the last sack of feed onto the back rather forcefully. Slim glanced up at his father's approach. Slim knew he wouldn't be able to hide from his father's scrutiny, so he simply went around the opposite side of the wagon and climbed up on the seat, taking the reins. "Wagon's all loaded, Pa. I'm ready to head home", Slim said.

"Now wait a minute, Slim, there was one other thing I had in mind today…" Matt trailed off. Even as he spoke, though, he could tell Slim was upset about something. Something he hadn't been upset about on the ride in. He was quickly realizing that the haircut and shave wouldn't be appreciated at the moment. "But that can wait until the next trip", he finished. Matt climbed up onto the seat beside his son. "Take us home, boy" he said, as Slim flicked the reins and turned the team towards home.

Slim had been distant since that moment. Matt looked across the table and thought about what in tarnation could have gone so wrong in the time it took him to talk with the doctor. It couldn't have been more than half an hour or so. He sighed to himself. If he had been paying more attention to his son, instead of worrying about the new baby and Christmas haircuts, he might have noticed whatever it had been. As it was, he turned back to his own dinner and scooped up the last few bites.

"Slim, are you feeling alright?" Mary asked.

"I'm fine" came the short reply.

Matt had had enough of the sulking. "You will look at your mother when she speaks to you, Slim", Matt said, his voice holding a note of warning. Slim's eyes flicked up to his father's face through the hair falling over his eyebrows, and then over to his mother.

"I'm sorry mother, I'm just not hungry is all", Slim said softly. Mary still wasn't convinced. The shame and anger she sensed were still too strong for that to be the answer.

She tried again, equally as softly, "Please, Slim, tell me what's wrong."

Slim's head shot up so fast that both parents were startled. "Mother, just let me alone!" Slim shouted. Slim never shouted at his mother. "Whatever it is you do to know what's going on in my head, I wish you'd just let me alone once in a while!"

Even as he said it, Slim knew he had gone too far. Afterall, his mother had only been trying to help, and his sour mood had nothing to do with the family. He was sure he had gone too far when he saw the shock on his mother's face accompanied by tears welling up in her eyes. You've sure gone and done it now, ya blasted fool, Slim thought to himself. He gritted his teeth and looked down, his stomach clenching with a whole new reason now. He rose from the table sharply and made for the back door, headed for the barn. He felt overwhelmed by his own shame and in that moment it was almost like he could feel his mother's sadness and shock as his own. The most overwhelming of all, though, was how quickly he felt his father's concern and annoyance turn to full blown anger. That wave of feeling was so strong it seemed to push him straight out the door, slamming it harder than intended on the way. In the back of his mind he hoped the slam hadn't woken Jonesy in the bunkhouse. Another person's opinions of his actions were the last thing Slim wanted right now. Right as the door closed, he heard his father start to stand from the table, and a quiet "Matthew, wait" in his mother's voice. His father did not follow him out the door.

He made a beeline for the barn and went straight up into the loft like he had when he was a little kid. He sat there among the haybales, feeling rather childish, doing his best to sort out everything going on inside him. He knew he needed to calm down. With any luck, his mother would make sure his father calmed down too before Slim had to face him again. If not, well… Slim decided he'd rather not focus on that now. Instead, he took a deep breath and focused on the relative silence of the barn. A barn was never really silent, but it felt that way. He could hear the old milk cow leaning against the wall of her box stall, the wood creaking slightly. He heard one of the horses snuffling around in the feed box for any forgotten oats. He figured his own gelding was the one blowing air through his nostril in the direction of the loft, probably smelling Slim and wondering why he hadn't come over to brush him like he usually did.

Slim loved the quiet atmosphere of the barn at night. His favorite part was the steady nature of the animals. It seemed like no matter what was happening outside these walls, as soon as the sun went down and the animals were in for the night, the air just settled into something comforting and safe. In these moments he never had to worry about what chores needed to be done in the morning, whether he measured up or not, or the opinion of any dark-haired girls with pretty green eyes. He never had to worry about those green eyes in here.

He lost track of time up there in the loft, listening to the animals below him as they settled in to sleep. He sat on the boards of the loft with his knees pulled up, his forearms resting on them, leaning back against one of the haybales. He tipped his head back against the top of the bale and closed his eyes as his own personal storm started to calm. His breathing leveled out and his heartbeat slowed. Even as he calmed, he knew his sanctuary couldn't last forever. This was confirmed with the quiet sigh of the side door swinging open and closed, followed by soft footfalls on the dirt floor. He heard the ladder groan tiredly as someone added their weight to the bottom rung, and in the next moment he looked forward to see the top of his father's hat come into view. Even though it was dark in Slim's corner of the loft, his father's gaze found him immediately. Slim shook his head and smiled a little. He had never understood how his father seemed to know exactly where he was, no matter the circumstances. His father's silhouette was backlit by the rising moon so Slim couldn't really see his expression, but somehow he knew his small smile was mirrored on his father's face. Slim sighed gently in relief thought his nose. He could already tell that his father had calmed down and his body language was softer, slower than normal. Slim didn't feel up to his mother's uncanny understanding right then. His father walked over and sat on the bale next to Slim, leaning his elbows onto his knees with his hands clasped together, his hat bowed a bit, almost like he was praying. Slim stayed silent, watching his father, waiting for him to make the first move.

"How about we start with what happened while I was talking to the doctor?" his father suggested.

Slim sighed for real this time. He knew there was no getting out of it now. "Annie O'Leary", Slim said. Somehow, in this corner of the loft with his father sitting quietly beside him, he felt settled enough to spill the whole story. He told his father all about how Annie had said she liked the look of Slim's dark bay gelding one day after school had let out. Slim couldn't have been prouder when that girl's green eyes found his own and she smiled up at him. He worked for hours after that, whittling a block of dark colored walnut wood into the shape of a small horse. Slim knew his mother had noticed the wood shavings next to his bed, but she had never said anything. She had just given her son a sly little knowing smile and left it alone. Slim had used some oil from the barn to further darken the wood of the horse's legs, main, and tail to make the coloring realistic. He even found a small piece of white pine to use as the horse's white blaze, cutting a notch into the wood and laying in the lighter color. Slim had been surprised how well the horse figurine turned out, and he had planned to give it to Annie for Christmas.

When Slim's father had sent him into the mercantile alone that day, Annie had walked in with her two sisters and her mother. Mrs. O'Leary was sorting through bolts of cloth as the girls drifted over to look at the second-hand jewelry display case. Slim knew this was his chance. As soon as he had given the list to the clerk, he took a deep breath and the first step toward the small bunch of girls. Annie was laughing at something her sisters had said, and Slim was caught up in the sound of that pretty little laugh. By then he was close enough to hear what was so funny.

"His legs are so long, I watched him trip over his own feet just last week!" said Julianne, the oldest of the three, four years older than he and Annie. Elizabeth, Annie's middle sister, laughed again.

"He's like that puppy we used to have, before he had grown into his paws. Annie, he even looks at you like that puppy used to. Always following you around, truly, that Slim Sherman is pathetic if he thinks you'll give him the time of day!" Elizabeth and Julianne laughed again at that, more loudly than before.

Slim watched as Annie covered her own giggles with her hand. "Bees, you should be nicer!" Annie said, still giggling. "It's not his fault, he can't help it if he's gangly. But you're right, someday he'll realize I'm just not interested. Until then, I guess I'll have someone to carry my books!"

Slim had frozen in his tracks. At that moment, he wished he was small enough to hide behind a rack of dresses like a child. Better yet, he wished the floorboards would open up below him and drop him into the root cellar. His stomach was in his throat and his heart had fallen all the way to his boots.

"Come along girls, we can't spend all day looking at jewelry", came the voice of Mrs. O'Leary behind him. To his horror, all three girls turned in his direction. Their eyes, all the same shade of emerald green, cut right to Slim's face. In hindsight, seeing three identical shocked expressions on three remarkably similar sisters was a bit comical. At the time Slim hadn't seen the humor. Instead, he continued to stand stock still as the embarrassed girls hurried from the store after their mother. Slim continued to stare at that jewelry case long after they were gone.

The old clerk came up behind Slim. "Your order is all ready to be loaded, son, will there be anything else? Something for your mother from that case, maybe? What's that you've got in your hand there, boy?"

Slim mumbled a quiet "Nothing sir, that'll be all", as he swam through the fog in his brain back to the present. He turned his boots towards the door. On his way out, he noticed a donation box for the Cheyanne Orphanage at the front. Without a second thought, he dropped the small horse into the box and started to load the buckboard.

In the quiet safety of the loft, Slim heard his father exhale through his nose and saw his hat bob in a silent nod. Matt was quiet for a moment, thinking over what to say. Right as Slim thought his father would be silent forever, or maybe he fell asleep sitting on that bale, his father looked him straight in the eyes and started to speak.

"I'm sorry you had to face that, son. Shermans aren't ones to feel things lightly" he said. Slim was a bit shocked. His mother was the one who would bring up feelings readily, not his father. Slim stayed silent, unsure how to handle this turn of events. His father continued, "When I was your age, I didn't know which way was up. I was a fish out of water, and axe blade with no handle to balance the weight. Pretty useless most of the time if I'm being honest". Slim knew his father was a lot of things, but "useless" was never a word he had applied to Matt Sherman. "All of that changed the day I stumbled into Mary Carmichael. All of a sudden, it was like the whole world tipped, and suddenly I knew which way was up and which was down. It was like I'd been wrong about everything my whole life before your mother turned up and showed me the way" he said, chuckling to himself at the memory. "My point, son, is that Shermans need a partner in their life to balance them. Your mother was the same way. She needed me to balance her. I have no doubt that this Miss Annie is a pretty girl, but it sounds to me like the two of you would never be quite in balance."

Slim thought about that for a while. Now that the perfect picture frame he'd had around Annie the last few months had been dented, he could see the picture a bit more clearly. Now that he thought about it, there wasn't much he really even knew about Annie besides what she looked like. After overhearing the conversation in the shop, he wasn't sure he wanted to know anything else about her.

Matt Sherman looked at his son, assessing him this time. Slim shifted a bit uncomfortably under his gaze. "I always thought you'd take after me", Matt said, "but I see more and more of your mother in you every day. I guess only time will tell."

Slim didn't appreciate that very much. He wanted to run the ranch someday, just like his pa. Sure, he was proud to be his mother's son, and he loved her with all of his heart. Everyone in town had been commenting on how much he looked like his father, how strong he was getting, and his mother swore to him that he'd end up just as tall and broad shouldered as his pa. No matter how many times he tripped over his own boots, he tried to believe her.

After a few quiet moments, both men thinking quietly, Matt went on. "Slim, do you remember the legends we used to tell you about how it was in the old country, of sentinels and their guides?"

Slim nodded and smiled, thinking about campfire nights and the stories of what amazing things those people could do. Impossible things, like hearing a heartbeat from a mile off, or seeing the individual feathers on a hawk soaring up in the sky. He loved those stories. As a kid he'd imagined himself as a sentinel, able to spot trouble long before it happened and save the day.

"Some stories, even legends, have a bit more truth to them than we let on" Matt said, watching his son's reaction. Slim's brows come together and he frowned.

"I know they were just stories, Pa, I'm not a kid anymore" Slim replied, confused as to what his father was getting at. No man could really do all those things.

"Well, yes, they were stories based on legends from a time long past. But every legend starts with some truth. Even if that truth has been forgotten or buried. When you find someone who balances you in ways you never knew you needed, hang onto them. Don't settle for the first pretty face that smiles your way. Wait for the one who completes you. Just remember that, and when the time comes, you'll know what I mean" Matt said, giving his son's shoulder a squeeze with his gloved hand before rising to his feet.

Slim, of course, was even more confused than before, but he smiled bemusedly and rose along with his father. The night had turned chilly and Slim was exhausted after the emotional stress of the evening. He followed his father down the ladder, out of the barn, and into the yard. His father stopped with his hand on the doorknob of the kitchen door. His gaze slid slideways to Slim, who stood just about eye to eye in height with his father now. Quietly, he said, "Remember to apologize to your mother, get to bed, and we can let this lie". Slim dropped his eyes and nodded, a soft "yes sir" falling from his lips. Matt opened the door and stepped thought.

"Pa?" Slim called, and Matt turned. In that moment, seeing his son stand in the door frame, shaggy blonde hair and light blue eyes reflecting the flickering light of the kitchen lantern, Matt had the odd feeling that he was looking in a mirror. The odd feeling was reinforced with the confident lift of the chin and the "Thanks for everything" Slim said to him. Matt swallowed hard, gritted his teeth against the sudden emotion, and nodded. He strode across the house to join his wife, closing the door to their bedroom behind him. He heard Slim close and latch the kitchen door before going to his own bedroom next door.

Mary was still awake. She watched her husband quietly as he sat on the edge of the bed and removed his boots, getting ready for bed. Matt eventually laid down, swinging his long legs up onto the bed and under the quilt. He rolled onto his side and gathered Mary close to him in his arms, running his hand over her belly as he did so, thinking about the new life soon to join their household. He signed. "Remember our conversation about which of us Slim will take after?" Matt asked Mary. Snuggled into his chest, he felt her nod. "Every time I think I have it figured out, I see something new and change my mind again" he said.

Mary laughed softly, already half asleep. Her sleepy voice, muffled by his shirt and the sheets, drifted up to him, so quietly that no one else in the world could hear. "After today, I think I know for sure, but only time will tell". Matt smiled at that and took comfort in his wife's calm attitude. He could feel his wife's happiness, satisfaction, and comfort seeping through his whole body and settling into the very timbers holding the house up. Before long, Matt heard the tossing in the other room stop as his son's breathing evened out. Before long, all three members of the family drifted off into pleasant dreams.