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Rating: PG13

Chapter 1

Buck Wilmington, Chris Larabee, Nathan Jackson, and Vin Tanner were four men who took pride in being resourceful, able to get things done very well and in short order. While Buck and Chris were long-time friends, their association with the other two was only a few years old. They were part of a group of seven men hired by Circuit Court Judge Orrin Travis to protect the town of Four Corners, Arizona, and the surrounding territory from "bad elements," whatever that might be at the moment. A great many things could be labeled bad elements, and they thought they had seen it all at least once.

The fifth man riding in their party was named Mangus. He was an Apache warrior. They still didn’t know how the strong, powerfully built man had came to Four Corners, but when he arrived he was obviously injured, and just as obviously distrustful of them all. As they were accustomed, the boys had bundled him up and taken him to Nathan for tending. It was a badly broken leg, but Chris was amazed to see that the man made absolutely no movement or protest as Nathan set the bones.

The man tried to leave the next morning, finding Nathan’s protest of his plan remarkable. It took Vin’s limited knowledge of the Apache language, plus many signs and gestures, to get at the gist of his story. Having completed a special quest, Mangus had been traveling to an Apache village south of Hubbard’s Trading Post, about three days’ ride, when two bandits from Mexico had attacked. The bandits had succeeded in killing his horse. In the fall, Mangus had broken his leg but still managed to kill his assailants.

"Vin, ask him why he’s got to travel in such an all-fire hurry. He needs to let that bone set a day or two. Get a little rest." Nathan, a healer, always encouraged rest for whatever ailed a person, whether the ailing person wanted to rest or not.

"It seems like he’s heading to his new home. I think that word he keeps using means some kind of ceremony, most likely a marriage. Apache men don’t marry in their home group. They change clans and join the wife’s group."

"Well, if he’s gonna go, I need to go with him a ways. That’s a bad break, but he’s already been walking around on it a spell. Can’t be sure it won’t give. See if he’ll let some of us travel with him, just to be certain."

"I’ll just ask if we can travel along with him, since he knows the tribal areas and can maybe give us an introduction as we go along. I don’t want to insult him by suggesting he needs a bunch of nursemaids along."

"All right, then. Just so long as I get to go along. Might be I can learn a little from their doctor….or chief"

"Medicine man. As for chief…some Apache tribes have chiefs and councils, but others don’t….we’ll just have to find out as we go along….and we’d better be real polite. Who all’s going on this little trip"

"Vin, you reckon all that stuff about how tough they are is true? Sounds like what comes out of the South end of a mule, if you ask me." Buck Wilmington, a ladies man, well-recognized scoundrel, and well-accomplished mischief maker, never considered that this particular patient might overhear and understand.

"Believe it, Buck, ain’t nothing unusual for a full grown, hardened Apache warrior to be able to take pain. He could probably have run a good distance more even with it broke. Sure wouldn’t have bothered him none to finish off those bandits. And I tell you, you best not question whether he’s telling you the truth. The Apache are known for at least two things…they’re belief in telling the truth…and their willingness to take on any fool who’s crazy enough to try and hurt ‘em. Remember, lots of tribes translate their name as ‘enemy.’"

"Shoot, I don’t doubt nothin' he says, Buck. I would have passed out long before Nathan finished a leg like that on me."

"Chris, you’ve made it through hard times enough, you don’t have to feel inferior, there, Pard."

"Maybe not. But it’s best to acknowledge a powerful man when you meet him, try to understand how he thinks. Could make a difference in living and dying."

Mangus’ insistence finally got them on the trail together by that afternoon. Buck, Chris, Nathan, and Vin, and Mangus the Apache. It was an interesting group. Buck rode drag, eyes watching their new "friend". Nathan and Vin rode one on each side, talking as best they could make out…Nathan about healing, Vin about tribal customs, hunting and the like. And then there was Chris, riding just ahead, leading…quiet, listening, taking it all in.

So just exactly how did three of them manage to end up on the border between the Arizona and New Mexico Territories, without horses or weapons. They were three now because Nathan had stayed at Hubbard’s Trading Post to help a man fight an infection that had started from a knife wound. Mangus was just fine…showed no stress from the break…so Nathan stayed where he was needed most. The remaining three were in trouble because Buck Wilmington couldn’t keep his mind off women. An extremely young and very beautiful Apache child had sent his brain right below his belt again, just as Chris had feared it would.

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Chapter 2

And exactly who did Buck Wilmington choose to woo? She was the daughter of the tribal matriarch, the pride of her warrior father, a soon-to-be-woman expected to become a powerful healer for her people. As the other women of her tribe, she led a life filled with honorable traditions that left no room for dalliance with someone like Buck Wilmington. Chris and Vin had both seen her, but Mangus had cautioned that they’d better only take a peek from a distance and only out from under the brim of their hats…a polite glance to acknowledge her beauty.

Buck....listen? Not hardly. Not only did the scoundrel stare at her, he had made verbal overtures and pranced about, truly insulting her.

The situation became worse quickly, when it was discovered the young woman was soon to be Mangus’ bride. His support for the men disappeared into sullen silence, even as Chris and Vin tried to apologize. The woman told the Chief about the affront. The Chief had conferred with the Council.

The endurance trial had begun at noon…the hottest part of the day. From prairie tales, rumors, and speculation, while the council chiefs planned the verdict, the fierce-looking braves knew the three white men should be terrified about the possible outcome. Apaches were believed to be brutal warriors, and that could be true. They much preferred to live in peace, even if other tribes and other peoples often made that impossible.

After he had cooled off a little, and threatened Buck, in fairness Mangus had told the council of the care the men provided when he was in need…neither asking nor expecting payment. He had explained to his future wife his reasons for thinking their punishment should be mild…they had meant no harm, and the one who had truly insulted her seemed to do no less among women of his own kind. Seeing the wisdom of his words, and knowing she was not truly harmed, she had agreed with the request for leniency for the "prisoners."

Like most fathers, ready to kill to protect their children, the Council members sternly announced their decision to the transgressors. Since the three were traveling as one, all were guilty for bringing embarrassment to one of their daughters. But because she and her betrothed had asked, the elders would permit all of the offenders to share in one punishment, which they could divide into parts. They had generously selected lesser punishments to make up the whole. All would hurt…none alone would kill…and they even permitted the three to determine which part each would take.

Sitting in the wickiup, with no guard outside since they had not proven themselves to be dishonorable men, just foolhardy, Vin breathed a sigh of relief when he understood the decision. "Well, Pard," he whispered to Chris, "Must not be that mad. At least they ain’t gonna skin us alive. You get one of these boys mad, and you got real bad trouble. You get Momma mad, hell, no telling what they’ll do to you. We best be glad they’re being so civilized about this. Some of the Comanche I’ve stayed with would have carved you up a bit just for looking at her. Talking to her would have gotten you in the middle of an ant hill with your balls down your throat."

"You sure we’re gonna live?"

Vin had chosen fire walking. "Shoot, I done this before, Chris, I can do it again. Just help me remember exactly what size favor Buck owes me."

Buck laughed, but only a little, "Yeah, what’s that Josiah says….Mind over matter?"

Chris just glared at him. "No, Buck. He says if you don’t mind, it don’t matter. As for me, I mind one hell of a lot."

"Well, Chris, you may think fire walking’s bad," Vin looked him straight in the eye, "But you took the gauntlet. You sure you know what you’re asking for?"

"Yeah, guess they can’t hurt me any more than Pa used to."

"Don’t count on that."

"But you never met my Pa, much less got to meet him when he was mad and had a thick leather belt in his fist. He had a real mean little gauntlet of his own, and being the boy I was, I went through it lots of times."

"Well, Pard…whatever you do, for this one, you run down the line. You run all hunched up, you hear, give them as small a target as you can, and don’t make a sound."

"Yeah, that sounds like one of my Pa’s rules."

"You make a peep…you scream…you get to do it all over again until you don’t say nothing anymore."

Chris tried to laugh, "These boys have definitely met my Pa."

"And Chris….you do know you get to do this completely naked, and everybody in the tribe gets to watch, except the soon to be women, that is."

"Ah, hell!" His face was red just thinking about it. His look at Buck was even harder. "You ever hear what they’ve got planned for the ladies’ man over here?"

"No, but if they didn’t mention anything themselves, they’re most likely gonna give him to the women."

"Now hold on! I thought Apache tribes was run by the men."

"Not hardly, Buck. Most Apaches follow the woman’s family line, not the man’s. Fighting’s handled by the men, but family stuff by the women. I don’t rightly know which group this is, but it’s more than an even bet you’re going to get to meet Mama…Mangus never will, but you’ll get the honors."

"Well," Buck smiled a scoundrel’s smile, "Maybe this won’t be so bad then! Me and my way with the ladies and all."

Vin hit him hard on the shoulder. "You and your dang way with women’s what got us in this to start with."

"What do I do?"

"You keep your dang head down, no eye contact AT ALL. You apologize REAL SINCERE. You grovel every little bit you get a chance to grovel, and whatever they decide to do to punish you…you keep your mouth shut and take it."

"Want exactly can I look forward to?"

"Well, they won’t kill you…that’s the good news. But they’re mean when you hurt the pride and worth of one of their children…especially one of the new women. You know she’s just about 13, Buck. Now for an Apache girl she’s just being recognized as a full-grown woman. She’s marrying age, not a real smart time for you to try to get to her. The women in this tribe are very particular about what these young girls do. The girls are guarded by a type of godmother in every thing they do. Do you always have to be that STUPID?!"

"Well, hell, Vin. She’s such a pretty young thing…you saw how she looked at me….I was just trying to be friendly."

Chris hauled off and hit him.

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Chapter 3

That’s why they were here. Chris with a raw back and highly bruised ego; Vin, sore feet; and nobody was exactly sure what part of Buck was hurting, but they hoped it hurt like hell. Not only had they lost their horses, boots, knives, six-shooters and holsters, and rifles too, Buck had lost his hat, Chris his pants, and Vin his much worn, much favored buckskin coat. For good measure the Apache braves had left them tied together, back to back, to see just how well these disrespectful white men could survive travel across hills, rivers, and desert when they had to work as one.

There was water, each had his canteen. There was even some jerky, but nobody had been able to reach it so far. For the first hours, it didn’t appear they had much talent for it. In addition to being tied together, they had been introduced to two young boys, soon to be Apache warriors, more than eager to participate in the "game" since this provided a chance for their rite of passage. The boys were instructed not to kill, but to follow, and any chance of adding torment was acceptable all the way to Hubbard’s. At least the three grown men had a head start.

It didn’t matter which direction they chose, one of them was bound to suffer, if not all of them. At least Buck had socks on his feet and his feet weren’t bleeding, yet. Chris had his shirt. He could either fry his brain or his already raw back and chest, depending on which he used the cloth to protect most, not that he could change anything at all until they found something to cut themselves loose. Vin’s rifle….now that was something they all wished they had gotten to before they were told to leave, but all he’d kept was his hat and his telescope, one very good piece of luck…maybe. Without weapons, they knew this was going to be a treacherous journey. Their goal was simple. They needed to reach Hubbard’s Trading Post as fast as they could, and they needed to avoid the Apaches youths as much as possible....and the snakes, and the scorpions, and the brambles, the cactus, and the sandspurs.

After most of that afternoon walking and tripping over each other, Chris was so miserable and so angry with Buck for getting them into this situation that during the hours they had tried to move he hadn’t talked to him at all.. He and Vin had tried to think of a plan to make this easier, but since there were three of them tied together, they needed to include Buck in at least a little of the conversation, even if he had been the fool that started it all.

"Buck, you miserable s.o.b., you better think of something to help us get through this alive. The way we’re trussed up, we can’t do much of nothing. Vin can see and track. I don’t know anything that I can do real well except trip you both up or maybe somewhere along the line help find something to help cut us loose. You? The only thing you’ve got to offer is a big mouth, and that won’t help now either."

"Well, seems to me perfectly clear that we’re just heading in the wrong direction."

"You couldn’t lead yourself out of a sack. Hubbard is almost due North, Buck. To my way of thinking, we’re heading North. Don’t seem we’re off track. Why don’t you just shut up and go where we tell ya to."

"But Vin, boys, we need to be traveling South."

"South? You suggesting we walk right back into that welcoming party we just left, trussed up like three big turkeys ready for the roasting? We make them mad enough, they might get tempted to build a real big fire! No thanks. I ain’t going back where I just got beat into the dirt because of you. They might decide we ain’t got the brains to learn from your mistake, and this time, they might just give us all a full set all our own. I’d just rather not, if it’s all the same to you. IDIOT!"

"I’m not STUPID or an IDIOT. We can’t make enough distance without the horses. Where are the horses? They’re back at the camp. Where are our pistols and rifles? And I want my hat! We need to head back, sneak in at night, get what we need, and then make a run for it when we’ve got something to run with."

"Run? Hell, Buck, we can’t even walk straight...How are we gonna run?"

"We ain’t, Vin, but the horses dang sure are. Without them we’ve got a more than two-day walk back to Hubbard,, if we give those little savages the slip. They ain’t found us yet, but it won’t take em long. With the horses, it’s a day, tops. That means the quicker we move, the quicker we all get our injured parts to Nathan. I for one need Nathan’s tender care.

"Can’t see nothing hurt on you, Buck."

"A hopefully, for me, you won’t."

"Okay," Chris broke in, "both of you shut up. We need a plan."

"Now, we’re talking," Buck could smell success already.

----------

"Okay, anybody got a hand loose?" Chris started.

"I got a right one free below the elbow." Vin offered.

"Can you reach one of the canteens?"

"No, it’s in my left hand and that’s tied to something."

"Through the middle and back to me, I think." Buck added.

"Can you turn lose of it, Vin?"

"Yeah, but we just might need it, and I might lose it."

"When he turns it loose, Buck, can you get it by the plug?"

"Probably, but..."

"Vin, can you catch it again when he shakes the plug free?"

"If he don’t shake it too damn hard."

"Okay....then you pour the water over my wrists, pour it slow, use all of it....or pour it over Buck’s wrists...but mine are smaller. If you soak the rope, we’ll start stretching it...see if we can pull it big enough to get one of my hands free."

"It’s a start...I guess...but..."

"Shut up, Buck."

"Vin, you still got your medicine bag?"

"Sure, Chris....they wouldn’t take nothing sacred like that...even if it is Seminole....but what’s that gonna do for us?"

"That stone Janahai put in it. What is it?"

"Piece of flint...."

"You say piece of flint?" Chris sounded hopeful and satisfied.

"Small piece..."

"Sharp piece?" He liked this part of the plan even better.

"Sharp enough. Chris....what the hell?" The tracker was getting quiet, thinking, and then he began to smile.

"That’s what I want to know...what in tarnation are you two talking about?"

"It’s a knife blade, Buck. Flint’s a natural knife blade...at least it is if one side’s shaped a little."

"Okay...the plan stays...we soak the rope, I pull my hand free, we get to Vin’s bag."

"That’s our problem, Pards, how?"

A snort came from Buck, "Somebody better be REAL limber."

"Well, I guess that leaves Chris or me. I lean over, Chris pulls the bag over my head or the string breaks."

"Or he chokes you."

"We gonna try this or not?"

"We’re trying, Chris....hang on a dang minute."

"Then what?" Buck was finally listening.

"Scoop up the bag...somebody gets the flint."

"But Chris, say Pard...?"

"Yeah, Vin."

"Whoever gets to use that flint gets cut up pretty bad...ain’t no hilt on that blade."

"Then it’s simple...." Chris was matter of fact as he stared.

"What’s simple?" Buck asked.

"You get the bag, you get the flint, you get to cut us loose."

"ME?"

"Buck...you got us into this miserable mess...you get to get us out of it. Vin and me are cut up enough as it is."

"Vin, you really expect me to do this?"

"You don’t do this, Buckley...I swear I’ll find a way to get to you myself. And I ain’t sure all I’m gonna cut’s your fingers!"

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Chapter 4

Buck had done it and paid the price, until Chris had pity on him and suggested, after he got his second wrist free, that Buck wrap the flint in a piece of his shirt. Of course, Buck immediately wrapped the blade in a piece of Chris’ shirt. Chris also suggested that they sit down while Buck finished the work. Chris was incredibly tired, and he had seen the condition of Vin’s feet. And in some way, he realized that Buck was hurting too.

When the center rope finally gave, they all just sat a while longer, still back to back, too tired to care. They did share a little of the remaining water. Chris insisted they use a little of it to clean Vin’s feet, which he then wrapped in the remaining parts of his tattered shirt.

"Pard, that feels a whole lot better, but your back and your butt are a mess...not so much cut as just blistered purple. Somebody must have worked part of it with a cactus nettle. Leaving your back bare in the sun’s gonna make it worse, real fast."

"Don’t talk about it. I’ll live. We ain’t gonna be around here that long." He got up and determinedly started to move. "Come on...let’s finish this."

But on the ridge above them, Buck noticed two small heads pop up, then retreat. "Don’t look now, but the little demons just turned up. Now, they’re moving down this way."

"Good!" Chris actually seemed pleased, "Everybody stay down, sit again and be real still."

"Good? The sun’s got you already, Stud."

"Shut up, Buck. Vin...sorry...kick those rags off your feet. I’ll put it back later. You two try to look pitiful."

"Hell, Chris, we are pitiful." Buck actually grinned, wondering what the plan was now.

"Not pitiful enough. Look done in.....now. Vin, how’s this gonna work? What have they got to do to us?"

"Just anything they can claim made us plum miserable."

"What you reckon that’s gonna be?"

"Closer they get...better it looks, Buck."

"Well, they’re thinking about manhood...being real brave. If they think we’re weak, worn down...reckon just how close they’ll want to get?"

"Shoot, I figure they’ll see if they can come close enough to scalp us...without killing us. I got curly hair...Chris’ got red-blond...yours ain’t nothing special, but it’s not dark enough to be Apache, so it’s recognizable."

"One problem, boys."

"What, Chris?"

"One’s got to cover us with arrow or rifle, the other one will do the scalping. How do we get them both without getting shot?"

"I ‘spect if you grab one, you got a bit of surprise on the other."

"That gonna be enough, Vin?"

"They ain’t that old. They’re just pups...surprise ought to do real good."

"When we’ve got em...what do we do with ‘em? Do we kill ‘em?"

"Ah, hell, Buck!! I ain’t killing no kid because you can’t keep your mind off your britches. I was just thinking they’d make a mighty fine trade."

"You reckon we’ll live once we make it?"

"Chris’ got a good plan there, Buck. They believe in being fair and dealing straight. We give them back their little warriors, unharmed, real polite, and maybe with a little something to show how brave they was in the attempt, we’ve got a good chance of riding home with their respect instead of a bullet."

"Okay, but we got to get em first, boys."

"Just remember, Chris...it might not be our heads they’re aiming for."

"Shut up, Buck! Everybody...get still!"

They were as still as Vin had taught them to be whenever danger came. They were as still as Chris could remember being while hunting with his father and brothers. He was thinking about that when he sensed a presence, and a shadow fell across his face. He peaked through slit eyes and saw a long, shining blade descending toward his head, as a hand grabbed a thick section of the hair on his forehead. He jerked backwards as the blade passed, giving him a much too stubbly hairline.

He grabbed the youngster around the arms and held him as he thrash and bucked to get free. The arrow from his companion missed Buck by mere inches as the man grabbed his ankle and yanked him off his feet.

Chris spun and dumped the boy into Vin’s arms. "Tell him, Vin. Tell him to be still, we ain’t gonna hurt em." He heard a shriek from Buck as the second’s kick found his crotch.

"Get this thing off me, Chris!!!"

"Hold him! I’m coming." Chris was busy, gathering lengths of rope, quickly typing the two boys together. "Buck, go get their ponies! Buck?"

Buck was doubled in pain. He lay gasping for air, retching as tears streamed down his face.

"Buck?"

"Damn, Stud. Aw, damn, Chris...that hurts!"

"Didn’t think he got you that hard."

"He didn’t...but he damn sure stirred up what Mama did."

"Mama? What? What did Mama do?"

"Hell, Chris. She damn near scalped my balls with a skinning knife. Damn!"

The look of understanding and dawning horror on Chris’ face told Buck that everything was readily forgiven. All the man had done was wink and prance a little. "Damn, Buck! Why didn’t you say something?"

"Figured you’d just say I deserved it. God, that’s mean."

"Hell, Buck. I might have said it...but I wouldn’t have meant this. Look...you and Vin keep an eye of these two...get a little rest. I’ll go get the ponies. Can you begin to ride?"

"Ridin’, walkin’, sittin’...don’t make one hell of a difference...we got to move."

How Buck managed to mount and sit on the pony, Chris always wondered. The man sat and held the little Apache in a vise-like grip.

Vin swung up easily on the other, holding onto the second, simply glad he didn’t have to walk just yet.

Chris lead the little band, feeling his back and chest blistering more and more in the sun. As they approached the village again, they were surrounded by braves and leaders who threatened with arrows, rifles, knives, and clubs. "Vin, what are they saying?"

"Saying to let ‘em go, of course."

"Tell ‘em I’ll only talk with Mangus...and I want to see him now!" He glanced over his shoulder at Buck and found him sitting pale but upright, refusing to show pain. Vin, too, was still and stoic. Chris himself felt like diving into the nearby pond to put out the fire in his body, but he remained straight-faced and rigid.

Mangus approached from the crowd, sternly watching the men. He noticed that the boys were held, but not harmed...the grip the men had on them no tighter than necessary.

"Mangus...we want to trade! Vin, make sure he understand!"

"I understand, Larr-Bee. What trade?"

"We just want our gear back...horses, guns, knives, my pants and hat, his hat, his buckskin coat...and we want to ride out of here without worrying about arrows or bullets or little warriors on our backs."

"If I not give...you will kill the little eagles?"

"No! We don’t kill kids....little eagles...but we will take em with us to the trading post...leave em there...you can come get em later."

"Why I believe you will not harm them?"

Chris looked him straight in the eye, "Why would you think we would?"

Mangus considered the question and nodded. "The little eagles...did they do well?"

"Hell....well enough." Chris ran his hand over his bristly hair, considering what difference another inch closer would have made. "Only reason we got em was they’re young...a little more time...they’ll be good warriors. They damn near scalped me!" And Chris held out his hand, giving the large square of his hair to Mangus.

"Larr-Bee admits this?"

"Pretty obvious anyway. Just damn glad they weren’t REALLY mad at us."

"Come, Larr-Bee. We find ‘stuff’.....all come."

Chris looked back at the other two...especially Buck, who just shook his head. "They’ll wait here...guard our prizes until we get back."

Mangus noticed the rags on Vin’s feet and saw the pallor on Buck’s face. He gave Chris a terse nod. "Larr-Bee, you come." They walked toward the corral, where Chris picked out their mounts.

"Larr-Bee?"

Chris looked at him.

"Good man.....strong, brave!" Mangus slapped his back. Chris managed not to cringe, cry, or curse. The warrior handed him a bundle. As he unrolled it, Chris recognized a shirt of soft woven cloth, with an intricate Apache design. He didn’t need instructions, he pulled the shirt over his head, hissing softly as it settled over his shoulders and back. In his hand, Mangus lay a small clay pot filled with a white creamy substance.

"Larr-Bee....wash, rub......cool."

Chris nodded. "Thanks, but Mangus....my friends, Buck and Vin...they need it worse than me."

"Larr-Bee..good friend. Buckskin man....feet?" Chris nodded and said...."My friend, Vin."

"Woman man....how hurt?"

"You don’t know?"

"Mashoni not talk to Mangus...she wife mother...I not approach."

"Well, I suggest you NEVER make that woman mad."

"Say?"

"You don’t know what she did to Buck?"

"What do?"

Chris leaned closer, talking privately with the warrior. Mangus’ head snapped back in disbelief and horror. He walked away, and returned in a few moments, handing first to Vin and then to Buck small clay pots filled with a white creamy substance. "Wash...rub...cool."

Both me nodded and Vin made the appropriate sign to say thanks.

"We’re free to go?" Chris asked easily.

"Yes...little eagles free?"

"Sure....who’s boys are they?"

"Sons of Chief!"

"Damn, Stud," Buck’s eyes were large in disbelief...."Come get this kid away from me!"

"All right, Buck....hand him down...then get yourself down off the kid’s pony."

"Do I have to? Chris, I’d a whole lot rather trade just so I don’t got to move."

"Come on Buck," Vin handed his captive to Chris, who set him easily on the ground. Mangus reached out to each boy and very seriously presented each with a large lock of reddish-blonde hair.

"Mangus, you tell those boys, if they ever meet me again...especially if they’re mad...they’ve already got their prize off me. Right?"

"I tell."

"Vin, you need help getting off that pony?"

"Not so long as you get my horse closer over here, Chris."

"Buck?"

"Not so long as nobody laughs."

"I’m not laughing, Buck...not one little bit."

"Mangus, not laugh..."

The three started off, riding very slowly...leaving the camp free and alive and thankful. Chris looked across at the other two, "Boys, I don’t know about you, but the first watering hole we pass, I want a good soak, then a rubdown with some of this hopefully cool stuff in these little clay pots."

"Stud....me too...but if Mama might have made it, I think I’ll just let you try it first."

"Okay...I’ll go first. Come on, Buck...head us North...and whatever you think about doing....DON’T!"

"Promise....I ain’t gonna do nothing to get myself in that kind of trouble ever again."

Suddenly, a very pretty, very small young girl, about the age of thirteen, stepped into their path. She looked up and smiled, coyly, directly into Chris Larabee’s eyes. She stared at him blatantly and refused to look away.

"CHRIS! Don’t stare, Pard." Chris instantly averted his eyes. He breathed easier, glad to have avoided trouble, until he heard,

"Why, hello there, darlin’. Beautiful....beautiful....My name’s Buck...what’s yours..."

Chris reached out and swatted the dapple gray horse with his hat, and heard Buck strangled screech as the horse began to trot away.

Vin grinned, "Reckon he’ll remember next time?"

"Not never, not ever!" Chris laughed softly, until the same young girl appeared again in front of his horse. He couldn’t avoid looking at her, and when he did, he stared straight at an Apache child...an Indian near-woman, with flame red hair and gray-green eyes. "What in the hell."

"Larr-Bee.... Larr-Bee...remember Shining Tears. Shining Tears remember Larr-Bee well."

"Pard....you best ride on and ride fast, or Mama’s gonna be looking for you, too."

"Ah, hell...Vin. She ain’t gonna be looking for ME! Let’s Ride!"

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Shining Tears (Part II)

Chris heard the light peck on the cabin door and thought it was a leaf or a piece of dirt being blown against the surface. It was dark outside and an unusually warm but very windy spring night. He almost rolled into his blanket...he had been headed there anyway, but the peck came again...then again.

"...a minute!" He pushed his hair back off his forehead and, in his underwear and bare feet, padded to the door. He threw it back, expecting one of the six other men he usually rode with...but no, wasn’t a one of them there. Unless they were playing a prank..hiding out there in the dark somewhere...none of them had ventured this far out of town tonight.

He just called out, "Okay....show yourself or spend the night out here! I don’t care, but I’m going to bed, and I’m barring the door!!" Then he grinned as he lit one of his favorite cheroots, just standing there, savoring the taste of the tobacco and smell of the smoke, enjoying the bright stars and the music of the creatures in this bit of land he had grown to love.

He’d been polishing off green-broke broncs for Judge OrrinTravis for three days, so he was tired and ready for quiet and more than a little rest. Yet, he was also more than a little pleased with himself. The bunch he had finished had turned out just fine, some real nice horseflesh. He hadn’t lost his touch.

He was especially pleased with the work he had done on the little pinto the Judge was eyeing as a birthday present for his grandson Billy. The little horse looked like somebody had flicked a big paint brush in his direction about a hundred times. Chris had taken the time and patience to gentle that one, planning to return to the Judge’s home in a few days to work with it some more.

He thought about the little sandy-headed boy who would own the little horse. Billy Travis, soon to be eight, was someone special to the man, and not only because he was the son of his mother, Mary Travis, publisher of the local paper. There were lots of words he had used to describe her...tall, blonde, graceful, smart, high spirited, opinionated...Chris smiled again. Opinionated. That was the one he had used for her first...and still tended to use for her a great deal. But beautiful...that was the one he thought about most these days, even if that particular description had come later.

He smiled even wider to himself, thinking about his work with the little pinto. "Maybe I’ll teach him that little trick with the bandana. Make Billy real happy. Sure couldn’t hurt nothin’ with Mary." He stood there, smoking his cheroot, immensely pleased with himself and his plan.

"Mis...ter?" Just a whisper...almost like a little wisp of breeze.

He almost didn’t hear it at all. The sound didn’t even make him jump, just caused his head to chase his left ear. But there she was. If he had been an inch or so taller, he swore he would have missed her altogether. She was a tiny slip of a child/woman standing there alone.

"Where’d you come from?"

"I walk...far. Woman...inside? Woman...lodge...here?"

"No, no woman here." Then he noticed. She was tiny...but she was very pregnant. "Why are you out here all alone on a night like this?"

"I go." She didn’t seem scared, seemed more like something that needed protecting.

"Wait! What did you want....need? Ain’t a woman here, but maybe I can find one, or help somehow."

"Man no help! I go."

"Look, you don’t have to go. You’re welcome to sit down over here. Where’s your horse? Do you have a buggy? Are you thirsty? Hungry?"

"No horse....I walk....I go." She started to move, but seemed surprised as she slumped into a gentle heap, too spent to go anywhere else.

"Whoa! Here." Throwing his smoke into the dirt, Chris reached down and scooped her into his strong arms. She seemed to weigh no more than the pinto’s saddle. There wasn’t much meat on her bones to begin with, but what there was seemed made of oak...strong, but for now, very vulnerable. Her head instinctively found and nestled in the warmth beneath his chin and against his chest.

He carried her inside, and settled her form into his bed, under his blanket, pulling the cover up around her. He went to the stove and stirred it just enough to chase the light chill. Then he got water, some in a cup, some in his basin, and a little of the broth from the vegetable-rich soup he had fixed earlier. He pulled the chair close to the bed and, with his one truly clean towel, began to bathe her forehead and the rest of her face. He slowly drizzled a little water and then a little cooled broth between her lips.

His was rewarded for his efforts when she opened her eyes a few brief moments, then smiled as if she were a child all of two. Trusting the man she saw there, welcoming the warmth and comfort of the offered bed, she simply snuggled a little tighter into the blanket and went to sleep.

"Good." He pulled the extra blanket from the end of his bed to the cabin floor, rolled himself into it and stretched out to rest and watch. All thoughts of sleep were quickly forgotten.

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Chapter 5

"Mis...ter?"

He sat up instantly, realizing it hadn’t been a dream. He WAS on the floor of his cabin, and a child he didn’t know was laying on his bed...a very pregnant child. A glance out the window told him they had slept a long time...probably until late morning. He was glad. He had needed it, and the girl had most definitely needed it.

"Ah, hell. This one’s trouble." He only whispered it to himself. He didn’t want to scare her. He checked the broth in the bowl, and went to freshen it from the warmer pot on the back of the stove.

"Good morning." He said the words and watched her cock her head to one side.

"Morn---ing? Yes...good...morn...ing." She seemed to be searching for the words.

"My name’s Chris..Chris Larabee. What’s yours?"

"Name. Name is ... is Shining Tears." He understood it to be a name with an Indian lilt, but it didn’t match what he saw before him...a child, or woman, with brilliant red hair, and soft gray-green eyes. Why he stared at her so hard, he didn’t really understand.

"Interesting name....maybe you’ll tell me about it. Where are you from? Where did you come from?"

"Come long walk...from there." She pointed.

"That way?"...Chris pointed to confirm her answer. She would have been walking in from the south.

"Yes."

"You don’t have anyone with you?" He handed her the bowl and a spoon. She looked at the utensil, then she shook her head, and quickly began to scoop the broth into her mouth.

"No. Alone. Food...is...good. Long walk...little food. Food... is...good. .......Thank."

Chris smiled at her..."You’re welcome. Want more, let me know. Such as it is, you’re welcome to it."

"Say?"

"Oh, sorry. More?"

"Thank." But she shook her head. She handed him the bowl then pulled her legs from under the blanket and started to stand.

"Do you need something?"

"I go."

"Whoa. Why don’t you just sleep a bit. You’re pretty worn out."

"Say?"

"Sleep more? Rest? Lay down for a time."

"Find woman now. I go."

"A woman? Now?"

"Yes...soon...need woman." She rested her hand against her swollen body.

Chris’ eyes widened. "Baby? Now?!""

"Soon." She smiled at the involuntary rise in the tone of his voice.

"Then you need rest. You’re not going anywhere."

"Woman...help. Need woman." She started to get up again.

"Understand. But if it’s gonna be soon, you need rest...get strong. This your first?"

"Others not live."

"Rough. Others!? More than one? How old are you?

"Five-ten winters? Say?"

"Fifteen?"

She smiled, "Fifteen...yes." Then she yawned.

"Look, talk later. You rest....eat."

"Food...is...good."

"Not much left. Stay...I’ll get more? You’re safe...just sleep."

"I stay."

"Good. I’ll be back soon. Little water left...there...drink. Bring more later."

She nodded, then watched him as he wandered around the small cabin getting dressed...his socks first, then black shirt, black pants, boots. It wasn’t until he reached underneath the long black coat hanging on the door and took his holster and its pearl-handled .44 from its peg, instinctively clicking open and checking the chambers, that she froze.

"I go." She scrambled from the bed.

"No....wait!!! No need. I won’t hurt you." He lowered the weapon into his holster and held his hands out, palms open, no menace.

"Why?" She pointed at the weapon, frightened, obviously aware of its purpose.

"Might need this out there." He pointed toward the door.

"Why need?"

Chris shrugged and gave her a reassuring smile...a smile he had used many a time to ease somebody’s worry."

"Never can tell....snakes, weasels, polecats ...might even come across a turkey." He cocked his head and reached for his rifle, leaning against the wall near the coat.

She relaxed a little because of the smile and the obvious ease of his words.

"Look, I’ll be back...soon. Will you stay?"

"Stay."

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Chapter 6

Luck was with him. He didn’t have to be gone that long, nor come back empty handed. He got a small rabbit, then two fish from a pool he knew in the creek nearby. He knew there were a couple of potatoes and a few carrots left at the cabin. They wouldn’t be hungry tonight.

The cabin had been neatened somewhat. One of his blankets was gone. But there was no woman inside.

"Ah, Hell!" Chris turned, intending to saddle his black horse. It was still in the corral, and that slip of a woman, on foot, and pregnant to boot, wasn’t going to get that far.

He saw her, sitting out by the edge of the corral, straight out from the cabin, in a chair she had dragged there. She sat wrapped in the blanket with her face turned up into the warm afternoon sun...letting the breeze stir through her hair. Her eyes were closed, and she seemed at peace.

"Shining Tears?"

She didn’t open her eyes. "Larr-Bee....sit...good. No walk...good. Thank."

"Are you okay? Do you want anything?"

She blushed. It surprised him...but she was a woman...fair, dark...they all could do that.

"What? What do you need?"

"Water? Much water?....Water, there." she pointed toward the creek, "cold...much cold. No wash."

"A bath? No, you sure can’t take a bath in the creek. Not summer yet."

She seemed so disappointed. He hadn’t meant to say no...exactly.

"I guess I could warm some for you in the tub." He pointed to the big wash tub hanging on the side of the cabin.

Her sudden smile was dazzling. Yes, fair, dark...they could all wrap him around their little finger with one of those.

"You just sit in the sun, or move into the shade if you want. I’ll go build a fire up to heat the water."

It was late afternoon by the time he got it all sorted out. His stove had fairly glowed, heating kettles of water, making sure the room would stay warm. After he had skinned and gutted the rabbit and the fish, he had built a wide fire not far from the cabin, big enough to hold a skillet, a pan for the vegetables, and a roasting spit as well. Even his coffee pot found a place to perch among the embers.

"Okay...come and get it!"

She jumped. He had noticed she was dozing again. He didn’t mind the quiet. She needed the rest.

"Sorry." He smiled apologetically. "Food’s hot. Bath’s almost ready. Best eat."

She came slowly, pulling the chair with her. He attempted to help her with it, but she would have none of that. "Larr-Bee cook. Shining Tears do!"

"Sure...suit yourself."

"Say?"

"Do what you want." He handed her a metal plate and motioned her toward the food. "Eat all you want."

She did that. She took some of everything, though Chris noticed the miniscule amounts she put on her plate.

He watched her as she took a first bite of the rabbit, a first bite of the fish. She seemed startled by the taste. "Larr-Bee? How man cook? Mangus no cook. Bright Eagle no cook."

"Well...Larabee cooks...not much...not fancy, unless it’s chicken and dumplings. I’m damn good at that. Hope it’s all right." He surprised himself, being so talkative all of a sudden. He was glad she didn’t seem to understand all of what he said. "Mangus? I knew a Mangus once...from down South. An Apache brave. Lived just south of Hubbard’s Trading Post."

She didn’t answer him, but she was busy working on more of the food, having taken another, small portion from each pan. The only thing she seemed to find objectionable was Chris’ pot of strong, black coffee. At her expression, and quick expectoration of the brew in her mouth, he dumped the contents of her cup and refilled it with water.

She nodded then and smiled her approval. She looked straight into his eyes, and smiled a dazzling smile.

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Chapter 7

"Wash now?" She looked up at him hopefully. He smiled at her, "Just give me half a minute to check things out."

"Say?"

"Wait here. I’ll fix it."

"Fix," she pointed at him. "Wait," she pointed at herself and smiled.

He laughed and got busy, stoking the fire a little higher in the stove, adding half a kettle of hot water to the tub. He stuck an elbow in to test it, then he really did laugh at himself..."Why use your elbow, Stud? Not like she’s a mewling baby."

He opened the door and found her eyes watching for him...bright, sparkling, anticipating..."

"Wash?"

"It’s ready."

She jumped up and entered the cabin, fairly flying as she waddled toward the water-filled tub in the center of the room.

"WHOA!!!" Chris put himself between her and her intention.

"Say?" She frowned. He thought she was ready to argue, and just muttered to himself, "Women!" He held up one hand and put the other against her shoulder, "Check first!" He made a show of dipping a hand into the tub.

She smiled, understanding, then followed his action. He grinned and tried a gesture for cold, with his eyebrows raised in question. She grinned as well, and made a sign he took to mean all was well.

"Okay, then." He had rummaged through a trunk that afternoon and found a tiny bar of soap he had been given once...something he never used since it smelled like roses. But for her.....he held it out, dipping it first in the water, then under her nose. He made signs to show how it would lather.

Shining Tears giggled and nodded, obviously aware of this wonderful thing she considered a great prize. When he handed the bar to her, her eyes grew even wider. She hesitated.

"Take."

"S-s-sop?"

"Soap.....yes."

"Soap? Mm-m-m-me?"

"Yes...for you. Keep it if you want to."

"Larr-Bee!!! She shrieked in happiness. THANK!" Her arms went instantly around his neck. She even managed to kiss his cheek."

Chris turned crimson...."Yeah...well...." Hearing her little twitter of laughter turned his face even redder.

"Larr-Bee....red face man!" And she laughed again. Then she reached up and stroked his face with one finger, looking deep into his eyes.

"Shoot!" He felt he could light one of his cheroots on his cheeks. "You best get at this before it gets cold," and he pointed toward a low chest where a clean blanket waited, along with a square of cloth and the towel.

He reached past the chest where the things lay and closed the window more tightly. Then, figuring this was the best he could offer, he nodded and quickly left her alone.

Only a few moments later, he heard the water ripple, then another twitter, then a laugh that was quickly cut off. Then the splashing began.

He grinned, then stepped away so she wouldn’t sense he was watching or listening. He felt sure she would sense it when she quit splashing in there. From the sound of it, every single thing he owned inside that cabin was going to be soaked.

He was beginning to clean up the plates and pots from the cook fire, intent on taking them to the creek to wash, when he heard the approach of a horse. Cautious as usual, he moved to get his holster from the beg nearby. Always cautious, he had rechecked it after his hunting foray and knew it was loaded. He stood easy, not sensing danger, but in some way sensing a new responsibility and, because of that, becoming instantly more alert and placing himself between the door and the approaching animal.

"Hey, Pard." Chris relaxed immediately when he recognized the sight and voice of Vin Tanner, his best friend,, a man with long curly hair and an infectious smile. This was a tracker, one of the six men he worked with. It wasn’t unusual for him to just show up.

"Evenin’, Vin."

Chris noticed the man’s eyes, the sharp blue eyes of the hunter, as they took in every last detail of the area around the cabin. Tanner noticed the multiple chairs, the new fire bed, the way Chris stood in front of the door.

"Wonderin’ why you wasn’t in town today. You got company? If you do, I’ll just head on back to town myself."

"No...no, problem. Climb on down. Might can find a bite or two of rabbit on that spit. Fish’s probably gone, I’m afraid. Still, there’s plenty of coffee and a few carrots you can have." Chris lit a new cheroot and leaned against one of the posts. He still didn’t move from in front of the door.

"Thanks. Think I will have a bite. Who’s your guest? Anybody I should know?" He grinned a bright smile, "Or should I be that nosey?" He smiled a little more.

"Just a stray. Showed up last night, needed a little sleep, little food, and..."

"What you doin’ takin’ in strays? You know better than that, Chris!"

"Oh, I think I was safe with this one." He smiled up at Vin as he took a long, slow puff on his smoke. He was just a little tickled to be chided by one of his bunch. He was the leader; he normally did the chiding.

"You plum near took my head off the last time I let some stowaway even spend a night in my wagon when I wasn’t nowhere around! Course, I wound up getting a sore rib for my trouble."

"Well, this one isn’t like that."

"And how do you know? We best just go have us a talk with him while there’s the two of us." Vin stepped down from his horse and headed for the cabin.

"Don’t think you ought to go in there, Vin." Chris was just matter-of-fact.

"I ain’t gonna hurt him...least not unless he goes for me."

"Vin...Vin...I don’t think you ought to go in...." Chris raised one arm to stop him, but got ignored.

"Chris...you need to know what your dealing with..."

"Vin, I’m telling you...it ain’t no problem."

"And why not?" Vin pushed past him and pushed open the door. After he heard the high pitched squeal, he stood there, mouth open, until Chris snatched him back through the door and closed it.

"’cause, Vin, this one’s a girl."

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End Part 1