1858

"Shhhhhh!"

"But, is it okay?"

"Of course."

"James, no one's supposed to come in here."

James flashed the wide grin that always made Maria crumble. "That's why we're here."

Maria giggled as James helped her slip through a space between two loosened wooden slats. Maria stared every which way as James pulled her through the boarded up mansion, continuing to grin at her amazement. "I never thought I'd see the inside," she breathed out.

James ran his eye over the opulent decorations. A thin layer of dust covered some of the furniture, but it didn't take away from the effect. He wondered briefly if the house he was born in looked something like this. He directed Maria into the parlor and gently sat her on a settee. The girl kept gazing around the room.

"So beautiful," she murmured.

James flashed another smile at her accent lilting in his ears. He loved the way she talked, her dark eyes, and silky hair. He could imagine her a queen of her domain, ruling the lives of this mansion. He sat down next to her and laid a hand on the back of her neck. Maria looked to him and heat rose in her cheeks. He drew closer and met her lips, savoring their softness. When he pulled back, she giggled again.

"Papi would kill me if he knew I was here."

"He doesn't know," James assured her. "And we won't tell him." He leaned back in and kissed her harder this time. She gripped his shoulders.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?"

Maria cried out and turned. James glared at three men standing in the doorway. He recognized one of them. He slowly stood. "We don't want any trouble."

"Tresspassin', ain't you, boy?" one of the men drawled.

"We only wanted to be alone," Maria explained fearfully. "We'll leave."

The man who'd first spoken, Clyde Rosten as James recalled, laughed and wheezed, joined by his companions. "We was lookin' for some fun...and we found you."

James reached behind him to grasp Maria's arm. He pulled her up and pushed her toward a window. "Go."

"You ain't going nowhere!" Clyde stepped towards the couple and James threw himself into a fighting stance.

Clyde laughed again and looked back at his friends. He turned to James. "You're just a boy, boy. You cain't fight a man."

"You want to bet on that?" James threatened.

Clyde wiped a hand over his drooling mouth. "You think you can come in here with that bean eater and get away with it?"

The name-calling was enough for James. He made the first move, leaping forward with a solid punch to the head. Clyde hadn't been expecting the attack and stumbled back. His companions shook their heads and their bleary eyes cleared for a moment. They moved towards James.

"Get out!" James yelled to Maria, then plunged in, meeting his opponents head on. As he swung and jabbed, keeping the men off balance, he heard Jabin's voice in his head: "Always watch your back; know where each one is at all times." "Keep moving. Make them keep up with you." "When one goes down, go for another."

The men stumbled and swayed and tried to make headway, groaning and moaning as James hit them again and again. James found himself laughing now. That was, until one of Clyde's companions rushed him, pinning him against an old upright piano. The instrument's hammers pinged discordantly as James struggled against the bulk of the man. The other companion came to his friend's aid and James found both his arms in their grip. Clyde stalked towards him.

"Thought you was better than us, eh?" He rubbed at a temple starting to swell. "Well, you ain't got nothin' on us, deviling brat." He raised his fist and James flinched as it connected. Pain exploded on the left side of his face and he felt a trickle on his forehead. He blinked and saw for the first time Clyde wore a heavy ring on his right hand.

"Get 'em in the gut," one of the companions encouraged. James scrabbled to twist around. Clyde grinned and raised his fist again.

"Stop it!" a rough voice shouted across the room.

All eyes focused on the doorway. A man with a long mustache and a tin star pinned to his vest stood with his hands on his hips. Maria cowered behind him, her face contorted in fear.

The sheriff marched over to the piano and shoved the men away from James. "Make you feel like men to attack this boy?" He held James by his arm to keep him from tumbling over.

James wished people would quit calling him a boy. He was fifteen, not a child, but he felt too groggy at the moment to argue.

"He hit first!" Clyde argued, pointing to his swelling temple. "An' he trespassed! Him and that girl." He pointed a finger at Maria.

The sheriff shook his head. "Then you go get the law."

"I got a right to defend this property."

"Maybe so, but he's a kid. He isn't worth a fight." The sheriff pulled on James' arm, directing him to the door. "I'm taking him and I want you to go cool down, you hear me?"

Clyde glowered angrily at his companions, but growled, "I hear you," as the door to the Davis mansion slammed shut.

James shared a hidden smile with Hui as the sheriff lectured.

"I'm getting tired of pulling you out of scrapes. If Jabin weren't a good friend, I'd throw you in a cell." Sheriff Brady paced back where James could see him. "Maybe I ought to just whip you and get it over with."

James scowled and winced as Hui applied an ointment to his brow. "I wasn't the one who threatened a girl," he protested.

"Come on, James. They called her a name. She's heard worse."

James suddenly stood, causing Hui to back up with the ointment jar in her hand. "No one cares about them, not even you!"

Brady frowned at the youth. "You should take my advice. I'm only trying to save you trouble. Stop going over there. They have their part of town and we have ours and the less they mix the better."

"Perhaps," a new voice added. "Perhaps not." Jabin entered, his face clouded with disapproval. James sighed. One lecture was about to be replaced with another. "I wouldn't have learned all I have if I hadn't crossed boundaries." Jabin nodded to Hui who nodded back.

Brady let out an exasperated breath. "You went to the Orient. You didn't drag the Orient back here."

"Regardless, James has every right to go where he wants, doesn't he?"

"He's free to go wherever he likes, but not to trespass!"

Jabin laughed derisively. "The Davises haven't been back in ten years and you know as well as I do that Clyde Rosten is the worst caretaker there ever was. When he's drunk, he uses that place for his own purposes and when he's sober, he's looking to get drunk."

Brady strode over to Jabin and peered down at him. "It's still trespassing. You tell this boy to mind his own business. Next time I have to rescue him, I won't be listening to excuses." Brady stomped down the hall and out the door.

James sat back down and Hui came back to him, rubbing in more salve.

"Confound it, James!" Jabin exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air and pacing to his charge's side. "Sometimes I think you're still eleven, all fire and fists!"

James looked up at the man he considered a second father, a man he respected more than any other. "I'm not trying to get you in trouble."

"You know I don't care about myself, but you keep on like this and you'll get a reputation you won't be able to put behind you."

"They threatened us."

"Then you should have left."

"They wanted a fight."

"You don't have to give it to them."

"They weren't going to leave us alone..."

"You're lucky they only did this to you!"

Jabin indicated his wound and James read the worry in the older man's eyes. He swallowed his protest. "I'm sorry."

Jabin shook his head and put a hand on James' back. "You want to see justice done. I understand. But you can't always do it with your fists."

James nodded, but he wasn't quite sure he agreed. Fists seemed to accomplish quite a lot.

"I want you to keep away from the mansion. And Maria..."

James' eyes flashed. "I'm not going to leave her."

Jabin raised his eyebrows. "And Maria," he continued, "be careful who sees you with her. There's no sense inviting trouble, is there?"

James shrugged.

Jabin slowly walked over to a side table. Hui ran a tender hand over James' forehead and whispered conspiratorially. "Listen to him. He only wants the best for you."

James smiled at the Asian woman. She pulled away and left the room with the ointment jar.

Jabin lifted an envelope from the table and turned back to the youth. "Something came for you from Father Thomas."

Jabin handed the envelope to James who gazed curiously on the crisp white paper. He saw Father Thomas almost every day. What was so important he'd send a letter mid-week? He peeled back the seal, unfolded the letter, and read.

James, I must meet with you. Come to the school at 4:00. Father Thomas.

James mused. Father Thomas was unfortunately always conservative in his words. He looked up at Jabin and was startled to see a bit of sorrow. "Do you know what this is about?" he asked, waving the letter in his hand.

"Go see him," Jabin said, starting to leave.

"He wants me to take that entrance test."

Jabin looked back. "Then take it."

James folded his arms over his chest. "What good is college? I might as well get on with life."

Jabin smiled knowingly. "You don't believe that."

James stood. "It doesn't matter if I believe it," he muttered. "I don't have the money for it."

Jabin left the room, speaking as he went. "Just go see the Father."

James looked back down at the letter written in the flowing penmanship of the stubborn priest. He didn't want to argue about college again. Every time he did it just reminded him that he couldn't go even if he wanted to.

James ambled up to the school, pausing at its steps. He'd been going through the old arguments in his head. Father Thomas would insist he take his money to finance college. He'd refuse—again. The priest was next to penniless. He spent all he had on others and James wasn't about to drain him further, not after all he'd done for him. He'd tell Father Thomas this was the last time he'd discuss it.

James climbed the steps heavily, opened the door and passed by a few students still meandering in the hall after their last class. When he reached Father Thomas' door he took a moment to prepare himself. He hated arguing with the priest. He tapped on the door.

"Come in!" Father Thomas' perpetually calm voice called out.

James drew in a breath and turned the knob, determined to get what he wanted to say out first. "Father, I'm not going to take the entrance..." He halted both his speech and his steps. Father Thomas stood behind his desk and gestured to a chair, but not the lone one usually in front of the desk. A second had been pulled over, the first being occupied by a man James knew well even from the back.

James didn't move and the man turned to face him. James took in the blue eyes, the familiar gaze, the light brown hair that echoed his own. "James..."

"Why are you here?" James spat out.

"James, come sit," Father Thomas implored.

James didn't take his eyes off his father, his real father, in the flesh, looking at him as if he didn't know him anymore. And he didn't. He hadn't for years. "What do you want?" James asked.

John West blinked a couple times. "I want to take you home."

James suddenly laughed. "Home? This is my home."

Father Thomas began walking towards the youth. "Please sit. We can talk about this."

James looked at the priest. "He thinks he can just show up now? I'm not going with him."

Father Thomas put his hands on James' shoulders. "I should have warned you in my letter. It's my fault. Take some time. Sit down and think."

James shook off the priest's grasp. "I don't need to think. I'm not going anywhere with him."

"He's your father."

"I don't care!"

John stood, fumbling with a hat in his hands. "I shouldn't have come like this."

Father Thomas turned. "No. Stay."

"Just go," James challenged. Father Thomas scowled at him.

John walked to the door, but tarried in the entrance. "I'm staying at the Magnolia." James didn't turn around as his father's light steps tapped down the hall and out the door.

Father Thomas let out a breath and moved back to his desk, sliding down heavily behind it. "Will you sit now?"

James' furrowed brow deepened. "If I do will you just tell me to go with him?"

Father Thomas sent James a withering gaze. The youth stamped over to the chair and perched on its edge ready to flee at a moment's notice. "What happened?" Father Thomas asked, indicating the cut on James' forehead.

"Nothing," James replied. He didn't need a third lecture today.

Father Thomas let the wound go in light of more pressing matters at hand. "He cares about you."

James shook his head, but didn't reply.

"He came back because he can support you again. He's got money and a good job."

And what if he runs out again? James wondered. Where would his father drop him off the next time?

Father Thomas' gaze became steel. "This is your opportunity, James. I told him about your progress, your intelligence, your chances. He's ready to pay for college, room and board, too. He's proud of you."

James ground his jaw. How could he be proud? He hadn't been around to witness any of it.

Father Thomas pushed back in his seat. "My father treated both his sons as a burden."

James stared curiously at the priest. Father Thomas had never spoken of his own personal history as long as he'd known him.

"He tried to mold us into the shape he wanted. When we failed, he disowned each of us." Father Thomas leaned across the desk. "Your father wants to do what he can for you. He wants to take you on your own terms. Give him a chance. Get to know him again. Don't give up what he's offering you."

James suddenly stood and bolted to the door. The office had become too stuffy and closed. He rushed down the hall, out the door, and down the steps, not sure where he was headed or why.

A breezy evening ruffled James' hair as he confronted the overgrown brush of the Davis estate. It used to be meticulously manicured, they said. He'd found it a great place for exploration when he was younger. The mansion manned a small rise in the distance. James tilted his head. He wouldn't be trespassing into the mansion, just walking the grounds, and Clyde Rosten never meandered around those.

James kicked at the underbrush as he forged ahead. He'd wandered the town for a time, but ended up here. This had always been his escape. He stopped at a familiar tree, running his hand over the bark, then jumped to grasp a low hanging branch and climbed up to a crook where he could sit comfortably. He fiddled with a couple leaves pulled from a twig. As he did so, he glanced at his wrist. He'd broken it the year before he'd ended up in Father Thomas' care.

James had tried not to let his father intrude in his thoughts, but memory was too strong. They'd been up to see his uncle, the one he was named after. They didn't get up there often, especially after his mother left. He hardly remembered her, but her brother invited them anyway.

James twirled one of the leaves with his left hand. It had healed well, no lasting damage. He'd been outside sledding and careened into a tree. He recalled the sharp pain shooting through his arm, his screams. His father had rushed to his aid and he'd been bundled up and carted to a doctor.

James dropped the leaves and watched them spin through the air to the ground. If he hadn't broken his wrist, his father might never have told him how bad off they were. He'd caught his father's embarrassment when the doctor mentioned payment. There'd been some arguing between his father and uncle and then his uncle paid the fee. Half a year later and James had been abandoned in a nun's orphanage. "I'll come back for you," his father had said. He hadn't said it would be four years later.

James raised his fist, wanting to punch at the trunk. He glowered angrily. And break my wrist again. He lowered his hand.

"James!" an eager, lilting voice called.

James glanced below at Maria's dark, silky head.

"I knew you'd come back here," the girl grinned. She hoisted herself up on a branch and James reached down to give her a hand up. She slid next to him, nestling into his side. He wrapped his arm around her. "Hui said you weren't home. I figured you'd break the rules again."

James felt a little affronted. He'd always respected Jabin and wouldn't disobey him. "I'm not in the mansion," he clarified grumpily.

"No, we're not," Maria acknowledged, her voice quiet. James swung his feet back and forth, trying to get his father out of his head. There was silence for a time, then Maria sat up and banished it. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," James muttered, avoiding her gaze.

"You're never this quiet," Maria stated. "Not around girls."

James sighed and looked at her. He'd known her almost a year. They'd meet in the streets, him throwing himself into it again, pulling her out of the way of a renegade horse. They'd been fast friends and then, maybe something more if he'd been allowed to admit it. "My father came back."

Maria's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Your father? I thought he was dead."

James shook his head.

Maria's eyes lowered. "You're leaving, then."

James let out a long breath. "No. I'm not going anywhere with him."

Maria looked up. "Why?"

"Why should I?" James snapped back.

"He's your father." Just what Father Thomas had said. Maria had a large and close family. James couldn't imagine her ever leaving them.

"He wouldn't even take me home," James argued. "He'd pay for college, so I'd go there." His father would ship him off the minute he got him.

"College?" Maria queried in a hushed voice.

"I don't want to talk about it anymore," James grumbled. He reached out and drew her back into his side if only to shut her up. Blessed silence reigned again, but only for a few minutes.

"You should go," Maria whispered. James ignored her. Maria's roughened hand ran along his cheek. "I'll never get the chances you get."

James glanced down at the girl staring up at him with gorgeous brown eyes. He swallowed hard. He was wasting a perfectly good opportunity, wasn't he?

"There you are."

James and Maria looked down to see Jabin standing at the base of the tree.

"I thought I told you not to come here anymore."

The youths spoke at the same time. "He's not in the mansion." "I didn't go in the house."

"Get down here," Jabin demanded.

James followed Maria down to the ground.

"You, go home," Jabin told the girl. "It's late." Maria gave James one last forlorn look and departed. Jabin turned his attention to his charge. "You, sit down."

James lowered himself to the ground, back against the tree, hands on his knees. Jabin slid down next to him. "You saw your father."

James stared at him. "You knew he was here."

Jabin nodded.

"And you didn't tell me." James looked away.

"I didn't know how to tell you," Jabin explained. "Father Thomas said you took off, wouldn't even talk to your father."

"You're my father," James mumbled.

Jabin snorted. "No, I'm not. I'm just a guardian."

James looked up, the sting of betrayal in his eyes.

Jabin sighed. "I took you in, yes, and I've tried to do what I could for you, but I always knew your father could come back. I wanted him to."

James' eyes grew wider.

"It wasn't that I didn't want you. It's that a boy should know his father if he can. And your father, as far as I can tell, cares about you quite a lot."

James firmed his jaw again. He wished they'd stop telling him how much his father loved him. A loving father didn't dump his kid when he wanted to.

Jabin's eyes took on that knowing look again. "He left you because he cared about you. He knew you'd starve with him. He might even have had to put you to work somewhere." James opened his mouth to respond, but Jabin held up his hand. "I know. You would have done it. You'd have done anything he asked just to stay with him."

James closed his mouth. He wasn't going to say it that way, but that was the essence of it.

"The point is he came back. He worked hard and long and when he was able came back to get you. He wouldn't have come back if he didn't care."

James tapped a finger on his knee. Jabin had a point.

"He's offering you himself and college. What more do you want?"

James considered. What more did he want? He knew the answer, but he'd spent most of his time these days hiding his emotions. Jabin stared at him and then smiled. He was glad Jabin could read him without words.

"Father Thomas and I will do just fine. We want you to go to college. Use your intelligence. Learn what you can. Who knows? Maybe you'll be the sheriff one day and you can knock some heads together for justice."

James couldn't help but crack a smile.

"Just promise me you'll take Father Thomas' compassion with you. You don't have to fight everyone."

James let out a soft breath. "I will."

Jabin stood and reached down. James took his hand, letting his foster father pull him to his feet. He clapped James on the shoulder. "You'll make us all proud."

James lingered nervously outside his father's hotel room, shifting from foot to foot. He tucked in his shirt tails that had come loose in his tree climb. A couple twittering ladies passed in the hall. James watched them walk by and into a nearby room. He coughed quietly, his mouth dry. He laid a knuckle on the door and knocked before he changed his mind.

"Yes?"

"It's James."

Quick steps sounded and the door opened wide. James and his father locked eyes for a couple moments, then John stood aside. "Come in."

James walked into the room, glancing around. His father may have earned money, but he chose meager accommodations.

"You want to sit?"

James turned back to his father and shook his head.

"Oh."

James read the disappointment in John's eyes and quickly stated his business. "I just came to say I'll go with you. Well, to college."

John's face lit up, breaking into the famous West grin. He nodded eagerly. "Good."

"That's all I came to say." James headed back to the door. He didn't get far.

John blocked his way and gripped James by his shoulders, just like Father Thomas had. "I missed you, son."

James nodded and blinked back unwelcome moisture in his eyes. "When do you want to leave?"

"Tomorrow. The train leaves at ten."

"I'll be here," James promised, then exited quickly. He stood for a moment in the hall, listening to his father shuffle around the room, hoping he'd made the right decision.

James stood on the railroad platform facing Jabin and Father Thomas. His own father stood to the side a few feet away waiting for him to say his good-byes. Father Thomas held out his hand. James shook it and the Father smiled at him.

"Study hard and study well. Make each book your teacher and don't forget to be critical of every professor."

James smiled slightly, remembering the intensity of his lessons at the priest's school. Father Thomas was a believer in critical thinking, telling his students to never assume everything was as it seemed. Dig deeper, analyze, and discover the truth. Don't take anything at face value.

James nodded to the priest. "I will."

Jabin stuck out his own large hand. "You know my advice. Watch yourself, but be wise about when to engage."

James nodded to the man who had taken him in. Jabin had harped on this theme for four years and even though James hadn't seen exactly eye to eye about the issue, he admited the wisdom in it. He should probably step back and determine if he could win a fight before he jumped in with both feet.

The train whistled. "All aboard!" called the station master.

As James glanced at his father, then back at the two men who had been his guardians, sudden guilt flooded him. "I'm sorry for all the trouble I caused you," he blurted out.

Jabin and Father Thomas shared a smile. "You weren't trouble," Father Thomas replied. "Just a challenge I gladly took on."

Jabin reached out to squeeze James' shoulder. "You just have so much passion and fire. Put it to good use, James. Don't forget what you've learned here."

"I won't," James assured.

"James?"

James turned to see his father gesturing at the train. He nodded once more to his two former guardians and followed his father on board the train. They slid into a seat, James by the window. His father smiled encouragingly at him, but James turned away to stare out the window.

As the train pulled away from the station and the two men who'd been everything to him disappeared as they waved, he felt so much regret. He could have been better for them. They'd been so patient and kind and willing to help him. There had been good times, of course, but he should have been even more attentive.

"I won't let you down,"' he whispered.

A small figure appeared in the brush next to the tracks, waving furiously. James waved as soon as he saw her, but he wasn't sure Maria saw him. She'd come by Jabin's this morning and they'd shared a final kiss. I'll never see her again.

"I promise I'm going to do everything I can to give you a good life."

James turned to his father.

"I'll make it up to you, son."

James acknowledged with a nod, but gazed back at the scenery passing by the window. He wasn't sure there was anything his father needed to make up for after all.