Warning: This is an emotional episode, and it contains content reflecting the prevailing views on homosexuality in Victorian times. The content does not necessarily reflect the views of the AUTHOR, the READER, or even the HISTORICAL FIGURES portrayed therein. So don't get uppity.

(If anyone is still reading at this point, I can probably assume you've got the idea and drop the warnings, right? I hope.)

"Very well... I won't blame Wyatt." James was clearly miffed at being made to wait while they indulged in poker.

"Fair enough," Doc muttered.

Wyatt felt the need to mediate. "You've had enough, right Doc?" he asked.

"Enough what?"

You know damn well what. "Gambling. You won't go back out?"

"Well, I... sorta planned on it."

Looking at the menu, James said, "I would say let him stay out all night if he wants to, but if we're not all rested tomorrow, it could get us killed."

He's still annoyed, all right. "He's right," Wyatt said. He wanted to say more but didn't know how to word things with James sitting right there. Trust me.

Doc sighed. Under the table, he patted his Wyatt's knee in an awkwardly reassuring manner. "All right. For you, boy."

He's getting awfully familiar. And "boy" again. Wyatt was getting a little irritated himself, but he decided to blame it on the alcohol. He leaned over to look at the menu James was holding.

Doc being his usual charming self had a conversation with the waiter about the house special and what was best on the menu. Wyatt chose some mid-priced grilled ribs in the meantime, with fried potatoes. James ordered a pork chop. Count on James to make the simple, economical choice.

"Remember the year we raised pigs?" Wyatt asked, suddenly reminded by the pork. "Were you there?"

"Yes, I was," James answered. "Warren just about cried when we butchered the first one."

"He did cry. He'd tried to make pets out of those critters. Mama tried to convince Papa to sell the rest of them in town..."

"To spare Warren's feelings?" Doc asked, seeming only half interested in the conversation.

"She said it was because they smelled so bad," said James.

"And to her credit, a pigpen does smell almighty bad," Wyatt added.

"But I think it was more for the younger children. She got her way in the end, but only after we'd butchered three and Warren and the girls weren't on speaking terms with Papa for weeks. The whole affair was a bit of a failed experiment."

"Love conquers all," Doc quipped with a smirk.

James and Wyatt went on talking about the past while they ate, with Doc making little inquiries or comments now and then.

Finally, Doc said, "If you boys are finished, I'll pay our bill."

"You're paying for all of us?" James asked.

"I had a lucky night and I'm feeling generous."

Wyatt noticed Doc's plate, which was still mostly covered with food. "Are you not going to eat the rest of that beautiful steak?"

"This is more than a steak," Doc said, sitting up. "This is beef tenderloin. And no... I haven't much appetite. You're welcome to it."

It was a tempting offer, but spending so much time so intimately with his friend, Wyatt had begun to be disturbed by how little fuel he took in. It was little wonder he was so slim. "You don't eat enough, Doc. You need your strength for tomorrow."

Doc sighed and took up his knife and fork. "Just a little more," he muttered.

It was too awkward to just sit there watching him eat. Wyatt took a sip of his water. Then he said to James, "Think the weather will hold tomorrow? It seems like it's getting a little windy."

"It was pretty cloudy at sunset too," James said. He shrugged. "Who knows?"

Doc got three more bites down while the others discussed the weather. Then he put his cutlery down again. "Satisfied?"

Not really. But Wyatt nodded and reached over with his fork to spear what remained of the tenderloin. There was no sense in letting it go to waste. "Go ahead and pay up." He cut off a bite of meat and tasted it. "Damn, I should have ordered this."

"Help yourself," Doc muttered as he raised his hand to get the waiter's attention. When he turned back around, he asked James, "Is something amusing?"

Wyatt looked up to see James smiling.

"Letting Wyatt eat off your plate," James said. "You're officially part of the family."

Doc chuckled.

It was nice to hear him laugh without coughing. Wyatt smiled a little as he worked steadily on the beef. He was full, but like hell would he send one bite of this back.

Part of the family. That sounded good. It seemed James was over his earlier annoyance.

Wyatt and James parted with Doc in the hallway and began getting ready for bed.

"Does he always eat like a bird?" James asked.

"I don't know... I bought him lunch one time, but I haven't taken meals with him much other than that. I imagine the consumption does something to his appetite."

"That's probably it. He needs to make an effort if he doesn't want the next strong wind to carry him off. Frankly, when I first saw him, I thought he was one of those dandies that wears corsets."

"Don't let him hear you say that," Wyatt cautioned him. "He's a bit sensitive about his condition."

When they were nearly ready for bed, Doc knocked on their adjoining door.

"Come in," James called immediately.

Wyatt felt a little self-conscious about his state of undress - maybe he didn't quite see Doc as family yet, himself. But Doc neither shied from looking at him nor stared.

"Have a good night, you two," Doc said.

"Good night, Doc," James replied.

"Good night..." Wyatt said, trailing off awkwardly. John.

Doc nodded and ducked out the door again.

Wyatt frowned. "That seem odd to you?"

"A little, considering how he hung around last night."

"Yeah." Wyatt shrugged back into his shirt and buttoned it. "I'll be right back."

He tucked in his shirt and went out into the hallway. This is silly. Doc's just turning in early to be sure to get a good sleep.

But a moment later, Doc let himself out into the hall with a graceful turn and locked his door.

"Going somewhere?" Wyatt asked.

Doc turned slowly. He stood there for a moment, then said, "I didn't want to disturb you."

"You're going back to the Chuck-a-Luck." It was more accusatory than he meant to be, but Wyatt had reason to feel betrayed.

Doc shrugged. "It's silly to quit when you're winning. In fact, it's sort o' rude."

"I really thought you wouldn't lie to me."

After some deliberation and subtle changes in expression, Doc said softly, "I wouldn't tell you a lie I thought would bring any harm to ya. That's the honest truth."

That doesn't excuse it. But Wyatt let that pass for the moment. "This is going to bring harm to you."

Doc's eyes narrowed. "You gave me your word too, you may recall?"

Don't change the subject. "'For you.' That's what you said to me. Did you mean it?"

Doc sighed, looking at the floor. He blinked slowly, and when he opened his eyes again, they were looking straight at Wyatt. "Yes, boy. I meant it." He turned back to his door, unlocked it, and opened it a crack. Looking back, he asked, "How did you know?"

Wyatt shrugged. "I don't know. You just didn't look like you were about to try to sleep. And by the way, you didn't quit while you were winning. You threw the last hand, remember?"

"Hm. Good night, Wyatt... Don't worry - I'll really go to bed this time."

And why should I trust you now? I thought I could the first time. But what else could he do? Certainly not stay in the hall all night. I'll trust you, then. If that's a bad call, then I guess I don't know you as well as I thought I did. "All right."

Wyatt went back inside his room. James was sitting up in bed.

"Everything all right?" James asked.

"Yeah, I'd say so."

Wyatt finished getting undressed and got into bed. He was tired and soon got to sleep.

March, 1864

March had followed its pattern of coming in like a lion and was easing through leaving like a lamb. It had been a couple of weeks since Wyatt saw Lewis in their preferred hunting ground. Each time they met, they had arranged possible times for their next meeting, always with contingency plans that would have pleased General Sherman himself. Many instances of "...and if not, then Friday, same time. And if I can't get away Friday, then Saturday for sure" passed between them. Their familiarity in private grew as surely as their aloofness in public held steady. At their last goodbye, Lewis had gripped Wyatt fondly by the arm and looked him in the eye as he said goodbye to him.

Wyatt's affection for Lewis was approaching that of his affection for his brothers, and that strange, other-worldly element to it continued to intrigue him. That familiarity prompted many small touches between them, but never defined itself to the point of being quite respectable or dishonorable.

Now, it was with a very heavy heart that Wyatt went to the general store alone. His father was meeting with a group of men in town and shouldn't miss him for some time. Still, this time would not be long enough. Not nearly.

Lewis had no way of knowing he was coming, but even when his father did not need him in the store, he usually stayed close to the sales floor. Today was no exception.

Without looking at Lewis, Wyatt went immediately into the shelves of dry goods. In a moment, Lewis joined him.

"Good morning," Lewis said quietly.

He seemed delighted to see him, and it made Wyatt's heart ache. "I don't suppose you've heard... about the wagon train?"

"I... I believe I heard something about it. Going to California, right?"

"My father is organizing it."

Realization came over Lewis's face. "You'll be leaving."

Wyatt nodded. "In May."

There was a long, straining silence between them. Then Lewis asked, "Will I see you again before then?" His voice was tight.

"Maybe. I don't know."

"I see." Lewis looked devastated. He stared downward for a moment, then looked out around the shelving to see who was about. He reached for Wyatt's wrist and tugged him forward.

Wyatt followed him through the door behind the sales counter, where he hadn't been since Lewis showed him his gun the previous fall. This time, Lewis took him all the way to the room he had disappeared into before, his own bedroom, and closed the door behind them.

"You've become my best friend," Wyatt told him immediately, knowing he would hate himself if he squandered this time.

"You're mine, too," Lewis said fervently. He pulled Wyatt into his arms and held him.

Wyatt knew that this was not proper behavior, but it was exactly what he had been longing for. He nestled his head against Lewis's neck and closed his arms around his friend. "I'll write you."

"Please do that." Lewis stroked the back of Wyatt's neck slowly. His embrace became tighter, uncomfortably warm.

Wyatt made no move to pull away. This felt good, like the only thing that could comfort him. "I wouldn't go if I didn't have to... if I were just a little older..." Tears stung his eyes.

"You just turned sixteen," Lewis said. He had presented Wyatt with a carved wooden rabbit the last time they were together in honor of his birthday. "They'd never let you stay on your own. I understand." He sighed and loosened his grasp at last, leaning back enough to look Wyatt in the face. The hand at the back of Wyatt's neck slid around to the side, thumb against his jaw. "I'm sure going to miss you."

"Me too," Wyatt said around the lump in his throat. "I hate that I might never see you again." Tears spilled over, and he worried that Lewis would be embarrassed by them.

Lewis reached up to catch a tear with his thumb and then moved his hand to brush away the tear on Wyatt's other cheek with his knuckles. "I'll never forget you," he promised. "And I'll love you 'til I die."

Wyatt's face flushed. Before he could think of how to interpret those words, let alone how to respond, Lewis leaned forward and gently brought their mouths together. He stayed still, wondering at the warmth and softness of Lewis's lips. Then he was pulled back into that embrace. "I love you, too," he whispered.

July, 1878

It wasn't fully light when Wyatt woke. Groggily, he remembered his dream about parting with Lewis. He felt warm at the thought that James was just a few feet away, and could easily have overheard any careless talking he did in his sleep. He didn't sleep-talk often, but it had happened before.

Whatever sort of degenerate Lewis had been, he had also been a good friend to Wyatt. He had never done anything strictly wrong until that day. Over the years, Wyatt had gone back and forth between two thoughts on the matter. One, it had been possibly the most emotional day of Wyatt's life since his sister Martha died, certainly since his brothers left for the war. The kiss might only have been an outpouring of that emotion. Two, even if it meant something else to Lewis, that was as far as it went. Surely one kiss wasn't enough to damn them both to hell. They would never cross paths again, and their letters had come to a stop shortly after Lewis married. In Wyatt's mind, they were still friends, but he understood that married life rendered their correspondence too much to keep up with.

Nothing had come of it. Nothing ever would. He would cherish his memories of Lewis along with those of other childhood friends.

There was a sort of low hum that Wyatt hadn't noticed before. He sat up and saw that James was standing by the window. "Is it raining?" he asked.

"Yes," James answered. "Quite hard. I don't think we should leave before it lets up. Maybe not until tomorrow. Should I go to the livery and arrange another day for the horses?"

"No, I'll do that," Wyatt said, getting out of bed. He joined James at the window and pushed the curtain further aside. The rain was indeed heavy. The sky was a solid gray canopy. "Yeah, it looks like we're not leaving today."

James put a hand on Wyatt's shoulder. "Sorry, little brother."

"Oh, it's all right. Doc will be pleased. Actually, he'll probably be livid that I wouldn't let him go out last night."

Finally, a little slash content. Barely. Sort of. Or was it just an outpouring of emotion? Keep telling yourself that, Wyatt.

In Victorian times, some "dandy" men who wanted to look fashionably slim did wear corsets to achieve that slight hourglass look.

Wyatt's family really did leave Iowa with a wagon train in 1864. Newton and Virgil were still in the army and would rejoin them later.

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