The Capture

by Torie

Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the TV program "Big Valley" are the creations of Four Star/Republic Pictures and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended by the author. The ideas expressed in this story are copyrighted to the author.

Summary: Thomas Lightfoot gets captured by a renegade band of Modoc Indians; none of them knowing that he is half-Modoc.

The fall leaves danced on the wind and the cool weather nipped Thomas Barkley Lightfoot's cheeks as he walked to school with his sister and cousins. This was Thomas and Ellen's first autumn in Stockton, California.

Their father, Tom Lightfoot, said that cool weather was not common in the San Joaquin Valley this time of year. Their father and mother had lived all their lives in California; except for the 15 years that Audra and the twins lived in Colorado. Their mother was white and their father was Modoc Indian.

Often Thomas thought about these facts. Thomas and Ellen both had dark brown hair and dark skin. The only way to tell they were also white was their eyes. Their eyes were dark blue, not brown like their father's.

Also Thomas had trouble telling if his father truly cared about him or Ellen. He was always so strict with both twins. Thomas sometimes called him an "Arrogant Indian Lawyer" behind his back when he was angry with him.

Only a few times could he see a hint of emotion in his father's dark eyes. A look of parental love would enter his father's eyes when he would hug Ellen or kiss her forehead goodbye or good night. Often, though, the look would disappear just as soon as it came.

Thomas adjusted the scarf around his neck as it twisted in a stranglehold. Thomas's stomach started to hurt as he looked at the school in front of him. A slight groan escaped his lips.

"What's the matter, Tommy?" Ellen asked, looking at her brother.

"I hate going to this school. I wish it was Saturday or Sunday," Thomas said, switching his schoolbooks to his left arm.

"Mother and Papa seem to think we need to go to school," Ellen said.

"I know, Ellie, but no one here is ever going to like us. The white man is always going to hate the Modoc in us," Thomas said, as they walked into the building.

After hanging up their wraps in the cloakroom Thomas, Ellen, and their three cousins entered the room. The room went totally quiet as every conversation stopped. No one said a word good or bad to the twins nowadays, but that didn't stop people from giving them hate-filled looks.

The only ones that didn't hate the twins was their mother's family and the Modocs at the reservation. At the reservation the twins were treated as part of the tribe. If only everyone else could have liked them as their father's people.

Thomas, Ellen, and the girls all sat down and opened up their schoolbooks, counting the minutes when school would be over.

Thomas practically ran out of the school that afternoon. Since coming to school in Stockton he disliked it a lot. The students were cruel and the teacher, even though she tried to be fair, she definitely picked favorites among the white children and Thomas and Ellen.

Of course Thomas got tormented at school often. The school bullies liked to stick their feet in the aisle and trip him when he went up to the board. Thomas tried to ignore the boys, but it was often a trial to keep his temper under check.

Thomas ran all the way to his uncle's office. Every day Tom Lightfoot and Jarrod would go over a new provision in the Modoc Reparations Law. Jarrod had once tried to explain the law to his nephew. The look on Thomas's face was pure confusion.

Thomas entered Jarrod's office. Jarrod's secretary was busily filing one of Jarrod's cases in a folder.

"Hello, Anne. Are my father and Uncle Jarrod in?" Thomas asked, hanging his coat on a coat rack.

"Yes Sir. They are going over the food rations for your people," Anne said, looking over her spectacles at Thomas. While Anne liked Jarrod and his family she felt it was wrong for Audra Barkley to fall in love with an Indian.

"Thanks Anne," Thomas said, opening the door to Jarrod's office.

Tom and Jarrod were both talking about a piece of paper when Thomas walked into the room. Maybe they don't see me, Thomas thought as he walked up to the desk.

"How was school, Thomas?" Tom asked at the same moment that Thomas had that thought.

Thomas blew out his breath, his brown hair flying away from his face. "Lawyers! I think you two have eyes in the backs of your heads!" Thomas said, sitting on Jarrod's leather couch.

"No, just your father does," Jarrod said, teasing Tom.

"How did you do that, Father?" Thomas asked, cocking his head slightly.

“Your feet are not as quiet as you think and I heard your breathing before you entered the office. But that's beside the point. How was school?" Tom asked again.

"All right I guess. I wish I didn't have to go though," Tom said, knowing this response was not the brightest thing he could have said to his father and uncle.

"You are going to thank us when you sit on the Supreme Court," Jarrod said before tom could come up with a response.

"Who said anything about being a lawyer?" Thomas asked, looking at his uncle confused.

Tom looked up at his son and sat down on the couch next to him. "I figured you'd want to be a lawyer like Jarrod and myself," Tom said, feeling like Thomas was being rude to him again.

"I don't. I think I'd like to be a doctor," Thomas said, knowing these words would get him into serious trouble with Tom.

Thomas was right. "Why would you want to be a doctor?" Tom asked, his voice deadly calm. A voice Thomas knew well. When his father was angry his voice would lower itself.

"I like math and science better than I do whatever you and Uncle Jarrod do for a living. And Ellie and I were talking about it and she'd like to go to college too. At Harvard they have an excellent medical wing and I'd like to help people that way. I've thought actually about being a doctor on the reservation. I can help my people that way when I come back," Thomas said, talking so fast that Tom couldn't interrupt.

"Tom, the boy is right. The Modocs are desperate for good doctors and no white man would treat them," Jarrod said, stepping to Thomas's aide.

Tom looked back at the paper in his hand. "I don't have time to talk about this. Go home, Thomas. We'll talk about it later," Tom said.

Thomas felt slightly disappointed. Later was code for "Never." His father didn't like to talk about subjects that made him angry. The twins had learned that last summer when Ellen and Tom had gotten into a fight.

Thomas walked out the door, hoping his mother would be on his side. Usually Audra sided with her children when they didn't get along with Tom. What Thomas didn't know was that he wouldn't reach home to tell his mother about this latest quarrel.

Tom and Jarrod entered the dining room that night, it being totally quiet. Tom looked over to his wife and daughter. Thomas's seat was empty.

"Where's Thomas?" Tom asked, feeling concerned.

"Ellen said that he might go out to Fort Barkley to do his homework after school. He may have lost track of time, Tom," Audra said, worried about the way Tom's voice changed as he noticed Thomas's place empty.

After everyone filled their plates and said grace Tom turned to his fifteen-year-old daughter. "Ellen, has your brother mentioned anything about going to college?" Thomas asked as Ellen took a bite of her pot roast.

Ellen chewed thoughtfully before swallowing the wonderful meal. "He has been hinting about going to Harvard to be a doctor. I thought he was bluffing. Has he mentioned anything to you?" Ellen said, taking a drink of milk.

"He stopped at the office and said something to that effect. He also said you wanted to go to college, Ellen," Jarrod said, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

"It's true. There's a women's college over in Massachusetts called Wellesley. I heard that some of the women who graduate could come out as doctors or lawyers," Ellen said calmly.

"What do you want to be, Ellen?" Heath asked.

"I think I want to be a lawyer, Uncle Heath. Being a lawyer bores Thomas, but I like it. Papa, I know you want Tommy to be a lawyer, but why make him do something he hates?" Ellen asked turning to look at her father.

"It's Modoc tradition. Sons normally follow in their fathers footsteps," Tom said as if he needed no explanation.

"Tom, our son is different from most Modoc boys. He's willing to let you teach him how to hunt and fish, but he has to follow his own heart. He can't follow your heart," Audra said, gently picking her words.

"Papa, I'm not a boy, but I want to be a lawyer like you. I don't think that we should follow that particular Modoc law," Ellen said, touching her father's arm gently with her small hand.

"Maybe you're right. I'll tell your brother that he can pick his own way of life when he gets home," Tom said, eating a piece of potato.

What no one knew was that Thomas was in more trouble than any of them knew.

Thomas felt himself fall to the ground as a hard fist contacted with his face. Thomas bit his lip as a way to control the tears that pricked the backs of his eyelids.

Besides the rock last spring no one had ever hit him before. The fact that these were Modocs made it even worse. Thomas still had difficulty deciding why these men were hitting him.

Thomas didn't know if he should tell them he was half-Modoc. He found himself wondering what his father would do in this situation. He then felt slightly foolish. His father was so perfect that he wouldn't let himself be in this situation. Also when he was last at the reservation he was told that a man named Sam Graywolf had rebelled against the government.

As soon as the slapping stopped Thomas laid his head against the base of a tree. His face was slightly sore and was sure to have bruises, but coal oil was sure to heal that. Thomas's breath came out in a sudden wheeze as a sharp-booted foot impacted with his ribs.

Suddenly a voice yelled in Modoc. With Thomas's growing knowledge of the language he was able to understand every word. Remind me to thank you for teaching me the language, Father, Thomas thought, wrapping his arms around his stomach.

"Stop it. He's already hurt," A man's voice said plainly.

"Yes, Philip is right. And he's only a boy," another man's voice said.

"All right," the Indian who had kicked him said, walking over to his campfire.

Thomas looked at his kidnappers. The one by the campfire was as old as his father and had long black hair. The two Indians who had defended him looked very old and very young.

Thomas looked up at the two men. "Thank you," Thomas said in a ragged breath.

"Don't thank us, white boy. We just don't want to see you killed," the young one, Philip, said gruffly.

"Why aren't you on the reservation with the rest of the Modocs?" Thomas said, sitting up, despite the pain in his stomach.

"We do not follow your government's laws, boy," the older man said, handing Thomas a piece of beef jerky.

"What is your name?" The younger Indian asked.

"Thomas. Thomas Light- Thomas Barkley," Thomas interrupted himself. If these Indians were who he thought they were it wouldn't do to reveal his name. Sam Graywolf hated Thomas's father. The reason being that Tom was a lawyer and that he had married a white woman.

The younger Indian went to the lake shining through the trees. The older Indian picked up a rag and gently applied it to Thomas's lip.

Thomas looked up at the old man. "Thank you. Why are you helping me? I'm white," Thomas said confused.

"I know, but you are still a boy. It wasn't right that we kidnapped you or Sam hitting you. You are not fully white, are you?" The old man asked, looking into Thomas's eyes.

"No. I'm not. My real name is Thomas Barkley Lightfoot. My father is Modoc," Thomas said, feeling that the old man would keep his secret.

"You are Tom Lightfoot's son?" The old man asked surprised.

"Yes. Don't tell Sam Graywolf my identity. All I want is to get home to my family," Thomas said, taking another bite of beef jerky.

What Thomas didn't realize was that his family was sitting up worried about him.

Audra looked outside worriedly at the approaching dark. Thomas had still not come in yet and Audra couldn't help feel a tiny dread in her heart.

Thomas had been gone way too long not top have gotten into any trouble. For the fifth time that hour she moved away from the parlor window and opened the heavy oak door.

"Mother, a watched pot never boils," Ellen said, quoting Aunt Lydia's favorite expression.

"Thomas has been gone too long not to have gotten lost," Audra fretted worriedly as she looked over at her husband.

"Audra, it's too dark to go finding him now," Tom said.

"He's right Audra. It would be like searchin' for a needle in a haystack," Nick said, looking up from his checkerboard game. Nick usually lost playing checkers with Heath, but that didn't stop him from playing the game.

"Father, what if Tommy is in trouble? Didn't you say that Sam Graywolf is back in the area? What if he kidnapped Tommy just to spite you?" Ellen asked, looking up from her history book.

"That's likely, but he is banished from the reservation. The chiefs told him that if he came back they would kill him outright," Tom said, thinking about his old friend.

"You never told me, but why does he hate you? Didn't you two used to be the best of friends?" Audra inquired of her husband.

"He never liked the fact that I became a lawyer. That I showed our tribe what an Indian could do when given the chance. But that didn't start the hostility between Sam and me. When I married you I told him about it and he said that I was a traitor to my people and our friendship was over," Tom said, his head hanging slightly.

"Father, he wouldn't kill Tommy, would he?" Ellen asked, sitting on her footstool by Tom's knee.

Tom gently ran his hand through Ellen's thick brown hair. "I don't know, Ellen. I just don't know," Thomas said.

"Are we goin' to look for Thomas tomorrow?" Heath asked Tom, feeling concerned over his nephew.

"We should. If Thomas has fallen in a mineshaft or stepped in a hunter’s trap he might be calling for help," Thomas said, standing up.

Ellen and Audra stood with him. Everyone hoped and prayed that Thomas was all right. The next morning dawned cool as Nick, Heath, Jarrod, Tom, and five Indian braves went searching.

"Please God, let Tom, the braves, and the boys find Thomas," Audra prayed as she watched them leave.

Thomas felt himself jerked up by the hands in the early predawn chill. It was freezing in the San Joaquin Valley this early in the morning. Thomas's hands were tied behind him and he was forced to march through the fog.

He tried to wipe his sleepy eyes on his sleeve, to no success. Thomas's sleepy mind wondered where his father and uncles were. As the sun peeked over the horizon Thomas was able to distinguish landmarks along the way.

The foliage on the trees lifted his spirits slightly. All the leaves were either golden-yellow, orange, or red. It was a beautiful sight.

A desolate log cabin came into view. The older man untied Thomas's hands and pushed the boy into the cabin. Sam shut the door and locked it. Thomas heard Indian words urging their horses to a gallop.

Thomas finally looked at his surroundings. Half-burnt wood was scattered around the cabin and since it had no windows the cold air came right into the cabin.

Thomas didn't know how he would survive in these conditions. If his father and uncles didn't find him he would die of either starvation or pneumonia.

* * * * * * * *

Tom and Heath stopped by the deserted camp ten miles east of the ranch. "Heath, what does this fire say?" Tom stooped to examine the ashes and the few live coals.

"Looks like its a few hours old. If it was Graywolf that took Thomas, would he be careless enough to leave tracks?" Heath asked his brother-in-law.

"Sam is Modoc just like I am. If he left this much evidence then he doesn't think anyone is as wise as he is," Tom said, wiping the ashes off his hands with a handkerchief.

"He has to know he kidnapped your son," Heath said, not believing that Sam could be that stupid.

"Unless Thomas told him he was white. My son is half-white. If Thomas said that he was my son then Sam would have killed him," Tom said, feeling as upset as Heath at the prospect that Sam would kill his son.

"What's that?" Heath asked looking at the ground going away from the spent campfire.

Tom looked to where Heath's blue eyes were focused. The impressions were that of horseshoes and the hard firm heel of a boot. The boot belonged to one whose feet were not that big.

"That's Thomas's boots, right, Tom?" Heath asked, looking at the impression in the dirt.

Tom's eyes turned to that of fearful. "They're making Thomas walk instead of ride a horse. Let's follow this trail. See where it ends up," Tom said, mounting his horse.

"What about Nick, Jarrod, and the others?" Heath asked, before mounting Charger.

"Fire your gun. They might hear it," Tom said, as he rode down the trail.

The echo of Heath's gun followed the two men down the trail. Tom felt this fear inside him. The weather was colder than normal for California and if Sam didn't kill his son the weather definitely would.

The first thing Thomas did was look over the cabin. It was totally empty except for the burned pieces of wood. Thomas didn't know if a person could burn half-burned firewood. The pieces could crumble to ash in a heartbeat.

Thomas went to the windows. The panes were intact, but had no glass in it. The windows would have been too small to get through anyway.

Thomas felt a pain in his chest, as the air grew colder. If it were also possible for a person to feel their lips turn blue Thomas could have said he felt his lips turn blue.

Thomas sat on the dirt floor of the cabin. He looked up to Heaven. "God, help me," he prayed in a ragged voice, right before he passed out.

* * * * * * * *

Heath turned up his coat collar as he followed Tom through what appeared to be wilderness. The air was getting colder. Heath found himself hoping and praying that Thomas wouldn't be deathly ill when they found him.

"Heath, stop!" Tom said sharply, holding up his hand to stop Heath.

"What is it, Tom?" Heath asked, reining his horse besides Tom's.

"What's that over there?" Tom said, pointing to the west.

Heath looked to where Tom was pointing. A thin curl of smoke was over the horizon. "Ya think?" Heath asked Tom.

"I don't know what to think. All I know is that there's a side trail right here leading to that fire," Tom said, reining his horse toward the smoke.

As Tom and Heath got closer three Indians were around a fire. The Indians started and picked up their rifles when they saw Tom and Heath's horses.

One of the Indian's faces took on an ugly frown. "What do you want?" The Indian asked in English.

"It's nice to see you too, Sam. I might as well ask you the same question," Tom said, dismounting.

Heath followed suit. Heath looked at Sam Graywolf. Hatred was emanating from his dark brown eyes as he coldly looked at Heath and Tom.

"We are going to bring some food to the reservation," Sam said sullenly.

"I wish you luck, Sam," Tom said, seeing through that lie. Sam didn't really care much about the reservation. He wasn't allowed back on there and Sam knew that as well as anybody.

"What are you doing out here with this white man?" Sam asked, pointing toward Heath with his chin.

"This is my wife's brother, Heath. We're out here looking for my son. He disappeared yesterday after school," Tom said, his eyes turning cold; just like Sam's.

"Have ya seen him? He's fifteen years old with dark hair and blue eyes. This is what he looks like," Heath said, taking a recent picture of Thomas out of his jacket pocket.

The three Indians looked at the picture of Thomas. Something in Sam's eyes changed from surprised to cold again. "No, we haven't seen him," Sam said, just as sullenly as before.

Tom and Heath mounted up on their horses. "He's lying, Tom," Heath said when they were out of earshot of the Indians.

"I know. Sam knows where my son is. He's put him somewhere where the weather will kill him. Let's go back to the trail and follow it," Tom said, going back to the trail.

As the hours passed Tom felt more worried by the minute. The weather was turning colder and Tom was starting to feel a few snowflakes drop.

Thomas slowly woke up at as a hacking cough escaped his lips. He couldn't be getting ill this fast! Could he?

Thomas coughed again, covering his mouth with his hand. Thomas put his hand against his cheeks and forehead. They were burning hot to the touch.

Thomas felt something wet land on his face. He looked toward the window he was laying under. Thick feathery snowflakes were coming through the window. If Thomas didn't feel so ill he might have taken pleasure in this snowfall.

Thomas looked up at the ceiling. "God, help me. Don't let me die in here," Thomas whispered through the soreness in his throat.

Thomas fell asleep again, his mind at peace. He had the knowledge that God would help him in trouble. If God could help Joseph then certainly God could help Thomas Lightfoot.

* * * * * * * *

Tom looked up at the sky as the snowstorm fell in torrents. He hadn't seen this much snow in California in years and his son was out in it. The bigger problem was that the snow was obliterating the tracks.

"Tom, it's going to be hard following tracks in a snowstorm!" Heath yelled over at Tom, apparently thinking the same thing Tom was.

"I know, but we can't give up," Tom said, turning back to the snowdrifts.

"How about we split up? I look for Tommy around here and you go to the snowdrifts?" Heath suggested, turning up his coat collar and wrapping his muffler tighter around his mouth.

"Good idea. If either of us find him, we can fire of a shot from our guns," Tom said, nudging his horse forward through the snow.

The cold was getting colder and night was falling. Tom felt that if he didn't find Thomas soon, the boy could die.

Besides that ghoulish thought Tom was also feeling guilty. The last words between him and his son were spoken in anger. Tom had to tell his son he was sorry and that he loved him. He prayed that God would sustain his son long enough for him to hear those words.

Tom's eyes scanned the trees in front of him. The inky black sky and snow covered trees made a pretty gloomy picture. Tom rode his horse carefully. With all this snow falling it wouldn't do to have his horse break a leg in the snow starting to build up.

"Thomas!" Tom heard Heath's voice call from half a mile away.

Tom gave off a sharp bird whistle. All Modoc children had a whistle. His son had adopted one as well. Tom hoped that his son heard his father's whistle through the snowfall.

A faint sound came through the trees. It didn't sound like falling snow. "Heath, I hear something!" Tom yelled through the woods at his brother-in-law.

"Maybe it's an echo of your whistle or the falling snow," Heath said skeptically in the distance.

All was quiet when Tom heard the sound again. "Help!" A barely audible voice called in the distance.

Tom went in the direction of the voice. He whistled again. "Help me!" A voice called out. It was stronger this time.

Tom stopped his horse in front of a dilapidated old cabin. "Thomas!" Tom yelled, pushing on the old oak door.

"Father?" Thomas's voice came through the heavy oak door. Tom felt the door jerked from the inside. "I can't get the door opened. Graywolf locked it," Thomas said in despair.

"I'll get it open. Stand back," Tom ordered. Tom took a tomahawk out of the side of his saddle and held it to the doorjamb.

At the sound of the broken lock Tom pushed the door in with his hand. Thomas was kneeling by one of the windows. His dark hair was messed up, his thin lips were blue, and his face was flushed with a fever.

"Thomas!" Tom knelt beside his son and touched his flushed face.

"Father, I knew you'd come for me," Thomas said, coughing.

"You have a very high fever. Here take my coat," Tom said, wrapping his large coat around his son's thin shoulders.

"I thought I was going to die," Thomas said, as he watched his father lay a fire.

"I thought as much too. Thomas, I'm sorry for what I said to you yesterday. If you want to be a doctor I won't stand in your way," Tom said, blowing on the flames gently.

"I guess being a doctor doesn't really matter now. If you want me to be a lawyer I will," Thomas said, drifting off to sleep.

Thomas watched his son fall asleep. Being sick had made his son want to give up his dreams of being a doctor. Tom couldn't let his son destroy his dreams because his father didn't approve of them. Tom wouldn't allow his son to do that.

Tom sat beside his son and sponged Thomas's sweaty forehead with water. Thomas's eyes were open, but he didn't seem to recognize his father.

Tom felt a gnawing dread enter his heart. This cabin was too cold for Thomas to live much longer in with his fever. Tom reached over and pushed wet strands of hair out of Thomas's eyes.

"God, help my son," Tom prayed, looking up to Heaven.

"Amen," Thomas's weak voice croaked from beside his father.

"I thought you were too sick to recognize me, Son," Tom said, removing the wet cloth from Thomas's forehead.

"I was just thinking. Mother and Ellie have got to be scared over me," Thomas said, struggling to sit up.

"We can't get home until the storm is over. If I fix you some broth do you think you could eat it?" Tom asked.

Thomas nodded his head briefly. "I think so," Thomas said faintly.

Thomas took a kettle out of his bedroll and poured some of his lunch into the kettle.

"Thomas, you said you didn't want to be a doctor any more. If you are giving up your dream because of me, then don't," Tom said, sitting down beside his son a few minutes later.

"Father, I don't feel like hearing a lecture right now," Thomas said testily.

"I'm not lecturing, Thomas! Honestly I don't know who's worse; you or your sister when it comes to getting mad at me!" Tom said in frustration.

'Sure does sound like it. You have no idea what it's like to be your son," Thomas said, his voice tight with anger.

"Thomas Lightfoot, I didn't come looking for you to get into a fight. I would suggest you change your tone please," Tom said keeping his voice calm.

Thomas started to cough uncontrollably. Tom picked up his canteen and put it to his son's lips.

"I'm sorry," Thomas said hoarsely when the coughing jag was over.

"It's all right. Look, your dinner is done. Can you hold your plate to eat?" Tom asked, holding the plate out to his son.

"I can manage," Thomas grabbed the plate and started to eat random bites of the food.

Before Thomas finished eating Tom came to a decision. If Thomas didn't get better by morning he would try to get him to the doctor in Stockton. Tom prayed that his son would feel better. Taking him out into the bitter cold might kill him.

Thomas's fever was worse in the morning. Heath had come during the night and Tom had sent him to tell Jarrod, Nick, and the braves that he had found Thomas. The men were then going home to tell the news to the worried members of the family.

Tom wrapped his son in an extra coat and scooped him into his strong arms. Tom had made a travois to put his son on. He laid his son on it and put a bearskin rug over him.

Tom mounted his horse and went off at a fast gallop to the ranch. It was of the utmost importance that he get Thomas home before this weather killed him.

At noon Tom stopped at a lake to give his horse a drink of water.

"May I have a drink of water?" Thomas asked weakly from the travois.

Tom gripped his canteen and put it to his son's mouth. By feeling his face with his hand Thomas's fever was still dangerously high.

"You are going to live, my son. I'm going to get you home," Tom said, smoothing back a lock of Thomas's dark hair.

"I know and I'm sorry for what I said last night," Thomas said, drifting off to sleep.

'I'm sorry too, Thomas," Tom whispered as he mounted his horse.

Thomas slept until the sound of horses woke him a few hours later. "Is he all right?" Uncle Jarrod's voice came through the fever.

"I don't know, Jarrod. All I know is that his fever's worse and I had to get him to Dr. Merar," Tom said, his pent-up worries evident in his voice.

"We had better get him into the house. This weather's getting colder," one of the Modoc braves said to Tom. Thomas recognized the voice of Adam Whitebear. Whitebear was his father's cousin on his mother's side.

Thomas heard a cry from his mother as they entered the house. 'Is he all right, Tom?" Audra asked, touching his forehead gently.

'He's very ill. He needs a doctor, Audra," Tom said.

His parents voices sounded as if they were in a tunnel, Thomas's head fell against the stairs and he felt himself drifting off to sleep again.

Thomas's breathing was congested as the doctor held a stethoscope to his chest. It didn't sound good. It sounded as if the boy was fighting to breathe.

"Pneumonia and a high fever," Dr. Merar said with grim finality.

"Is there any cure for it?" Audra asked, gently stroking her son's long bangs out of his eyes.

"I don't know, Audra. He's very ill. Tom, from what you told me being exposed to that cold air didn't do much for Thomas's health," Dr. Merar said, putting the stethoscope in his black bag.

"What's his chances for survival, Doctor?" Tom asked.

"Audra, I would suggest that you and Tom soak flannel rags in boiling water and sprinkle them with turpentine. It should clear out the congestion in his chest and I would try mustard packs," the doctor said, getting an extra quilt out of Thomas's closet.

"Howard, what about ice? Couldn't that bring his fever down?" Victoria asked worriedly. Victoria was frightened for her grandson. She had never seen her grandson look so ill. He had a normally strong constitution to inclement weather.

"No, Victoria. At this stage of the fever, if you try to bring it down too quickly he could go into shock and it would kill him," Doctor Merar said warningly.

Doctor Merar left the room. The room was silent as everyone watched Thomas cough. In a fit of anger Tom slammed his fist into the wall.

"Tom, calm down," Jarrod said to his brother-in-law.

"Jarrod, don't tell me to calm down. Unless that is Matilda fighting for her life, don't you dare tell me to calm down. Sam tried to kill my son," Tom said, his voice splintered with anger.

"I don't think he knew. I saw the look of surprise on his face, Tom. I think he thought Thomas was white," Heath pointed out, a slightly serious look on his face.

"I think it's possible, Tom. Our son resented it when I told him that he was Indian. And with his blue eyes he could pass as a white boy," Audra said, picking up a cool rag and putting it on her son's head.

"I didn't know that it bothered him enough to hide it from people," Tom said, finally calming his voice down.

"It's because you don't know him, Tom. If you took the time to talk to him you'd find out things like that," Audra said, feeling her heart break at Thomas's rasping wheeze.

"Tom, Audra, this is not the time for an argument. Thomas and Ellen have to see that their parents are not furious with each other," Victoria reprimanded harshly.

"Mother's right. I'm going to fix those rags and mustard packs," Audra said, as she walked out the door.

Victoria really was right. Tom and Audra really couldn't afford to argue. Their son had to get well. Right now it was up to the Lord if their son lived or died.

Tom felt anger as he went downstairs. Audra was right when she said that he didn't even know his son, but he felt he had a right to be angry with Sam for doing this to Thomas.

His son could die and it would be Sam's fault. "How is he, Papa?" Ellen asked her father as he came down the stairs.

Ellen ran to her father and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I don't know, Ellen. His fever's really bad," Tom said, stroking her long brown hair.

"He'll be all right, won't he, Papa?" Ellen asked, her voice squeaking slightly.

"I'm praying that he will, Ellen," Tom said, wishing that Ellen would change the subject.

Tom sat down on the sofa and ran his fingers through his long hair.

"Papa, why did Sam take Tommy?" Ellen asked, sitting next to her father.

"I wish I knew. Your uncle Heath says that Thomas had to have hidden the fact that he was Modoc," Tom said with a sigh.

"I don't know how, Uncle Tom. Ellen and Tommy have blue eyes like a white person, but a person would have to be blind not to see the Indian in them," Matilda said doubtfully.

Neither Tom nor Ellen could respond to that Peter Runningfire and Whitebear entered the parlor.

"How is he, my cousin?" Whitebear asked in Modoc. Ellen was just as fluent in Modoc as her brother. She responded before Tom had a chance.

"He's fine, I think," Ellen responded in slow halting Modoc. Ellen didn't even use the Modoc tongue for the reason that it sounded funny when she talked in the language. It was easier to just listen to the language and talk in English to those who knew English.

"Ellen is wrong. The doctor says he is very ill," Tom said, looking sternly at his daughter.

Modoc girls didn't talk unless spoken to. And his daughter's Modoc was far from perfect. She may have understood the tongue, but until she learned how to speak properly it would have been a good idea if she didn't speak in Modoc.

"I wish Dr. Mike were here," Ellen said, ignoring the hidden reprimand she had just gotten.

'Who's Dr. Mike?" Peter Runningfire asked confused.

"She's a white woman doctor over in Colorado. She uses Cheyenne Indian remedies to cure things. Last year half the children in Colorado came down with diphtheria and she used prickly ash for sore throats," Ellen said in Modoc again.

"Did the prickly ash work?" Whitebear asked.

"Yes and no. It worked on me and Tommy, but some people's cases were too far advanced for it to work," Ellen said doubtfully.

That left everyone in the parlor thinking. If this Dr. Mike could send prickly ash maybe God would use it to make Thomas better.

Ellen looked down at the letter she had just finished writing. Her parents wouldn't agree with the choice she had just made, but there really was no other option.

Dr. Mike, I need your help. Tommy is sick and needs prickly ash. Please send it. Ellen Light, the contents of the letter said. Ellen knew the message was cryptic and to the point, but Tommy needed that prickly ash.

And what did Dr. Merar know anyway? He was a country doctor that didn't keep up with all the remedies that just came out of medical school. Dr. Mike did and some of the Indian cures were better than the white man's medicine.

Ellen pulled on her coat and snuck out of the house without being seen. If her parents had caught her with this letter they would have been very angry that she had disobeyed them.

Tom's temper hadn't improved much since they brought Tommy in a few days ago and when Tom was like this it was best that no one talked to him.

Ellen loved her father very much, but sometimes he was just plain confusing. Why he didn't want Dr. Mike to send a remedy for Tommy was beyond her comprehension. Tom had said that the remedies that Dr. Merar had prescribed would suffice, but Ellen had her doubts about the mustard packs or the boiling rags soaked with turpentine.

Ellen galloped her horse hard and reined him in front of the post office. Ernie, the postman, was putting some stamps on the stack of letters in front of him.

"Hi, Mr. O'Connell," Ellen said, putting a letter in front of him.

"Miss Lightfoot," Ernie said, his voice sounding mean.

"I need you to send this letter to Colorado Springs. This should cover it," Ellen said, putting down five dollars.

"Dr. Michaela Quinn Sully?" Ernie asked, reading the name on the envelope.

"Yes, Sir. She's a female doctor and she has an Indian remedy that has worked last year when my brother and I had diphtheria," Ellen said, pushing a stray lock of hair under her hat.

Ellen walked out to her horse. She mounted up again. She felt ten times better. If Dr. Mike would send the medicine Tommy would get better. Ellen found herself praying that her idea worked. Maybe Tom wouldn't act as if he were so mad at her.

While she was praying she found herself wondering about her father. Sometimes he acted like he was so worried about her safety; at other times he acted as if he didn't even want children. Ellen found herself wondering if this incident meant that Tom would start acting like the father she dreamed about as a little girl.

The next few days were filled with tension. Ellen found herself wondering if Dr. Mike got her letter. If Dr. Mike came here from Colorado Springs she would have to leave her patients and Ellen didn't want anyone to die for lack of doctor.

The biggest problem was hiding the fact that she had disobeyed her parents. Especially her father. Tom had never spanked her, but after he found out what she had done he probably would.

Since the argument about Jack Tom and Ellen had managed not to make each other angry, but 9 out of 10 times they failed at that.

Ellen was playing a game of checkers with Matilda when someone knocked on the door. "I'll get it," Matilda jumped up from their game.

Ellen watched as her cousin opened the door. "Hello. Is Ellen Light in?" Dr. Mike's cultured voice asked Matilda.

"Yes. I'm her cousin, Matilda Barkley," Matilda introduced herself.

"I'm Dr. Michaela Quinn Sully and this is my husband Byron Sully. Ellen wrote me asking for prickly ash," Dr. Mike said.

"Of course. Come in," Matilda said, opening the door wide.

"Dr. Mike? Mr. Sully?" Ellen ran to the tall woman and hugged her tight.

"Ellen, how's Thomas?" Dr. Mike asked, smoothing Ellen's dark brown hair.

"Still sick. The local doctor told Mother and Father to use mustard packs and a rag boiled in water and sprinkled with turpentine and it’s not working. I was hoping that your store of prickly ash would work," Ellen said hopefully.

"It's up to God if your brother lives or dies. But does your mother and father know I'm here?" Dr. Mike asked.

"No we don't," Audra's voice floated down the stairs. Ellen looked up into the equally angry eyes of her parents. The fact that her mother didn't look as angry as her father was a big consolation.

"Hello, Michaela. Hello, Sully," Audra greeted the couple.

"Hello, Audra. If I had known that Ellen didn't have your permission to send for me I wouldn't have come," Dr. Mike apologized, hugging her friend.

"It's all right. Knowing my stubborn, obstinate daughter she probably didn't tell you about what her father and I decided," Audra said, turning to glare furiously at her daughter.

"How is Thomas? Ellen says he's awfully sick," Dr. Mike asked, her voice turning into that of a doctor's.

"Actually I'm glad you came when you did, Michaela. The remedies Dr. Merar prescribed aren't working. Sully, if you go into the kitchen Silas can give you some leftovers from lunch," Audra said turning to Sully.

"Thank you, Audra," Sully said, walking off toward kitchen.

Dr. Mike and Audra walked upstairs. Ellen turned to look at her father. "Papa, I'm sorry. I should have told you," Ellen said in a small voice.

"Yes you should have. I thought I made it clear that you were not to send off for Dr. Quinn?" Tom asked his daughter, his eyes so angry that Ellen couldn't look into them.

"I'm sorry," Ellen said, a lone tear streaking down her face. Ellen ran upstairs and slammed the door to her room. She collapsed on the bed, sobbing her heart out.

Ellen sat biting her lip as the tears rolled down. How did her father dare to reprimand her for doing the right thing? Ellen found herself thinking of Thomas. If Thomas died and she didn't send for Dr. Mike it would have been their fault.

Ellen heard her door open softly. Victoria entered the room with a cup of hot cocoa.

"Hello Ellen," Victoria said, sitting on the bed beside her granddaughter.

"Hi Nana. Is that for me?" Ellen asked, pointing her chin toward the steaming cup.

"Yes it is, Sweetheart. Ellen, I don't think you should judge your father too harshly. He does love you very much," Victoria said, not one to beat around the bush.

"Then why did he yell at me, Nana? I only wanted to help Tommy," Ellen said, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks.

"He's very worried about your brother's health and he was sitting up half the night to see if Thomas's fever would break," Victoria said, sitting next to her granddaughter and stroking Ellen's long dark hair.

"Nana, did I do the wrong thing by asking Dr. Mike to come? If I did I'm sorry," Ellen said in a small voice.

"Yes and no. I think you did the right thing by asking Dr. Mike to come, but you should have asked your father or your mother first," Victoria said, picking her words carefully.

"Papa would have said no. You saw how angry he was a few minutes ago," Ellen said, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands.

"He's only angry that you felt it was necessary to go behind his back and send for the doctor," Victoria said, a slight reprimand in her voice.

"Should I apologize, Nana?" Ellen asked, cocking her head slightly.

"It wouldn't hurt if you did. Your father is in the parlor," Victoria prodded, nodding toward Ellen's door.

Ellen opened the door to her room and went running down the main staircase. The sound of her mother's angry voice stopped her.

"How could you, Tom? You had no right to yell at her!" Audra hissed in anger.

"I had every right, Audra! You are my wife and those are my children! Ellen disobeyed me outright!" Tom snapped back, his voice as equally angry as his wife's.

"Ellen thought she was doing the right thing! I'm proud of what she did! If Ellen hadn't sent for Michaela I know I would have!" Audra said, her voice close to breaking with tears.

Ellen entered the parlor. "Papa, I'm sorry," Ellen said in a tiny voice as her parents looked at her.

"What for, Ellen?" Audra asked, wrapping her arms around her daughter.

"For going behind your backs and sending for Dr. Mike. I am sorry, Papa," Ellen said, looking at first her mother and, then, her father.

"Just don't do that again without our permission," Tom said finally, his voice calmer than it had been in days.

"Yes Sir," Ellen said, walking to her father. Tom pulled his daughter in his arms and held her tight as she cried. Audra didn't agree with what Tom had just said, but she didn't want Ellen to overhear as much as she did.

The prickly ash worked fast. Thomas's fever broke in a matter of days. Everyone was relieved that a fever could break that quick.

Tom was especially happy. After sitting in his son's room, watching him fight to stay alive, Tom felt like crying for joy when he had heard the prognosis.

Of course he would never show anyone that he was capable of crying. That didn't stop his daughter and wife from crying. As soon as Doctor Mike came downstairs and told them that Thomas was going to be okay and that his fever was gone, Ellen collapsed into her mother's arms and cried a river.

Tom sat by his son's bed and watched Thomas's chest rise and fall. His son's even breathing was enough to convince anyone that Thomas Lightfoot wouldn't be dying any time soon.

"How is he, Tom?" Audra asked, bringing a bowl of broth into Thomas's bedroom.

"Still alive, Audra. If that's what you mean," Tom said, smoothing a lock of his son's dark brown hair behind his ear.

The look on Audra's face was enough to tell her husband that she didn't find him humorous.

"Do you think he might be able to eat something, Tom?" Audra asked, holding out the bowl to her husband.

"We don't we ask him?" Tom asked, shaking his son's shoulders.

Thomas woke up, blinking his sapphire eyes sleepily. Thomas looked at Tom and Audra. "Father, Mother," Thomas croaked softly, a ghost of a smile touching his lips.

"How do you feel, Sweetheart?" Audra asked, stroking her son's cool forehead.

"All right I guess," Thomas said, his voice giving out.

"Can you eat a little broth?" Tom asked his son.

Thomas turned to look at his father. He nodded his head slowly. After a few spoonfuls of the chicken broth, Thomas felt much better.

"How long have I been sick?" Thomas asked, his voice getting stronger.

"A week and a half. When Sam Graywolf kidnapped you, you got pneumonia and a high fever," Audra said, taking the bowl from Tom.

"How did I get better?" Thomas asked.

"Ellen sent for Dr. Mike to bring you some prickly ash when the remedies that Dr. Merar prescribed didn't work," Tom said, feeling a sense of relief that Ellen had been right to send for the doctor.

"Dr. Mike and Sully? They're here?" Thomas asked. Thomas liked Sully. When Audra and the twins lived in Colorado Sully was a father figure to Thomas.

"Yes," Audra said, running her hand through her son's dark hair.

"Is Brian, Matthew, and Katie here too?" Thomas asked, starting to feel tired.

"No. Just Michaela and Sully came. Thomas, go to sleep. We'll bring food up to you later," Audra said, kissing her son's head.

Thomas nodded slightly as he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

Thomas felt slightly dizzy as he dressed quickly and walked out of his room. It had been two weeks since his father had found him in that old shack and brought him in. Thomas was sick and tired of his bed.

When Dr. Mike had brought up some prickly ash she had said that he should stay in bed, but Thomas had thrown that advice to the birds. He didn't stay in bed when someone had thrown a rock at him last summer. Why should he stay in bed when he felt 100% better?

Thomas leaned his shoulder against the wall as a wave of nausea rocked his stomach.

Thomas made his way slowly downstairs and to the dining room. The sound of clinking silverware on china plates was the indication that breakfast had just started.

Thomas pushed open the oak double door, causing everyone's conversation to stop.

"Thomas Lightfoot, what are you doing out of your bed?" Audra rebuked her son.

"I think I'm starting to hate that bed," Thomas said, slipping into his chair next to Tom.

"It can't be that bad, Kid," Sully said, passing a plate of ham in front of Thomas.

"Nice to see ya too, Sully," Thomas said, changing the subject.

"We've missed you, Kid," Sully said, clapping Thomas's thin shoulder.

"How's everyone? Mr. Bray, Mr. Slicker, Miss Dorothy, Reverend Johnson, Daniel, and Horace?" Thomas asked, hoping that everyone was all right.

"They're fine. When we told them you were ill, they said to tell you they were praying for you," Dr. Mike said.

"How's Matthew's law practice?" Thomas asked, cocking his head slightly.

"Fine. He had to defend a former US Marshall a few weeks ago," Sully said, taking a bite of potato cake.

"Thomas, you are doing more talking than you are eating," Tom said, jumping into the conversation.

''Sorry Father," Thomas mumbled under his breath and forced himself to take a bite of his biscuit. It was all he could do not to gag on the biscuit.

"Are you all right, Thomas?" Victoria asked, concerned over the slightly green tint on her grandson's face.

"Yeah. Father, what are we going to do about Graywolf? He did try to kill me," Thomas said, turning to look into his father's dark brown eyes.

"Right now I'm not going to do anything. The tribal chiefs will handle Graywolf," Tom said.

"I guess I'm not a coward like you then," Thomas said, struggling to get up on his feet.

The look on Tom's face suggested that his son had gone too far in insulting his father.

"Thomas! How can you say that?" Audra asked, shocked.

"I don't know how I can say that, but I know he's not angry with Graywolf for what he did. They were friends after all," Thomas said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Thomas stumbled out of the room before anyone could say anything. Thomas knew he shouldn't have said that to his father. But he did say it and Thomas didn't know how to take back words once they were said.

Thomas knew his father was going to be furious. He had told Thomas that the tribal chiefs would punish Graywolf for abducting and nearly killing one of his own people, but Thomas had to make sure that Fred Madden was told about this.

Since Thomas was also white Graywolf was in trouble for kidnapping a white boy. If Thomas could get Fred to arrest Graywolf then the chiefs wouldn't kill the man. A court of law would send Graywolf to prison.

Thomas slipped into his brown coat and moved weakly to the stable. After saddling his horse and pulling himself into the saddle, Thomas made tracks for Stockton.

* * * * * * * *

Fred and his deputy, Billy, sat at the desks drinking coffee when Thomas entered the office.

Fred stood up, concern in his eyes at Thomas's ashen face. "Thomas Lightfoot!" Fred said, wondering what possessed Audra and Tom to send this boy out in this weather and him probably as sick as a dog.

"The tribal leaders are going to kill Sam Graywolf," Thomas said, sitting down in the chair across from Fred's desk.

"Are you sure?" Fred asked.

"Yes. I asked my father. He told me the tribal leaders would deal with Graywolf, but I don't want that. We have to bring him before a judge and jury," Thomas said, closing his eyes tight to stop his head from pounding.

"All right, Boy. Billy and I will find Graywolf and bring him to justice. Are you all right though? Do you want me to go get your Uncle Jarrod?" Fred asked, concerned over the boy.

"I'll be fine. My horse, Warrior, should be able to get me home," Thomas said, standing weakly to his feet.

Thomas stumbled outside. He felt happy that this chore was done, but he also felt very weak and tired. This chore had drained his energy and strength. He felt as soon as he got home that he was going to fall asleep for a month.

Thomas pulled himself into the saddle and let the horse walk home. Of course Thomas had to stay awake or fall off the horse.

Thomas managed to make it to the barn without anyone seeing him. After pulling off his saddle and wiping the horse down, Thomas crawled into the loft and fell into a dreamless sleep.

I hope the sheriff and Billy find him, was Thomas's last conscious thought before he drifted off.

* * * * * * * *

Audra looked around the house, feeling panic claw at her throat.

Victoria, Michaela, and Ellen sat in the parlor sewing. "Mother, Ellen, Michaela, have you seen Thomas?" Audra asked, causing the three to look up.

"Not since breakfast when he called Tom a coward," Victoria said, laying aside her knitting.

"It's a miracle in itself that Papa didn't get really mad at him for that," Ellen said, putting down her quilt.

"Your brother has just gotten over being sick. Your father's trying not to scold him too much," Audra said, sitting down in a plush chair.

'I'm sure he'll show up, Audra," Michaela said, trying to console her friend.

"I hope you're right, Michaela. I just can't understand it sometimes. It seems like Tom and Thomas can't talk to each other without getting into an argument," Audra said, pouring herself a cup of tea.

"It's because they're so much alike, Audra. They just can't see that. Your son has his father's temper. Tom has learned to control his a little bit better, but Thomas hasn't. I think if they just stop arguing they'll see how much they care for each other," Victoria said jerking on her crochet needles.

"I guess you're right," Audra said, picking up her own sewing. The afternoon was to be very long waiting for Thomas to enter the house.

Thomas woke up in the loft, pieces of straw and hay were sticking out of his dark brown hair. He sat for a few minutes, reflecting over his actions a few hours ago.

His father wasn't going to be too happy that his son had gone out in his weakened condition to ask the sheriff if he could get Graywolf instead of the tribal chiefs.

He wondered if he could get inside the house and up to his bed without his father knowing that he had gone to see the sheriff.

Probably not. Father is probably still upset over the last time I got sick, Thomas thought with humor. That time Thomas had gone to the reservation after getting a blow to the head.

The only one who had known about that was Ellie and he had asked her to make their father and mother think he was upstairs reading.

Thomas climbed down the ladder just as nick, Heath, and Sully entered the barn. If it was possible for an Indian's face to turn completely white, Thomas's did as he locked eyes with his uncles and Sully.

"What are you doing out of your bed, Boy?" Nick pretty much shattered everyone's eardrums with that particular question.

It would do no good to lie to Heath and Nick. And Thomas liked and respected Sully too much to lie to him anyway.

"I had to see Sheriff Madden," Thomas said simply, before he started to cough.

"Did your mother say you could do that, Thomas?" Heath asked, after handing the boy his handkerchief to cough in.

Thomas coughed and looked at his blond uncle. "No. Please, Uncle Heath, Uncle Nick, don't tell my father I went to see the sheriff. I don't want Graywolf punished by the tribal chiefs for kidnapping me and leaving me to die in that cabin," Thomas begged hoarsely.

"Thomas, that is dishonest. If you relapse your father and mother will know that you went outside," Nick said, putting his hand on Thomas's shoulder.

"Don't tell them yet. They'll find out eventually what I have done, but I don't want my father mad at me for going behind his back and asking Sheriff Madden to arrest Sam," Thomas said, adjusting the blue scarf around his neck.

"What if you get sick again?" Sully asked his young friend.

"Then you could tell my father what I did. I think I'm going upstairs to my room. See ya at dinner," Thomas said, making his way out of the barn.

The three men looked at each other worriedly. "We didn't exactly promise the boy we would keep quiet about his chore, Nick, Sully," Heath said.

"Does Thomas not like his father?" Sully asked, changing the topic slightly.

"It's not that he doesn't like his father. It's that they don't know how to be father and son. Tom feels that to be a father to the twins he has to be really stern and strict with them like all Modoc fathers are. He also doesn't want to lose them and Audra like he did before," Heath said, hoping Jarrod was right when Tom had said pretty much the same thing last summer.

"But Thomas and Ellen weren't raised Modoc for the fifteen years of their lives," Sully said.

"I know. Ellen and Thomas have told him that, but he doesn't listen. According to him children don't have much say in the Modoc tribe," Nick said, not understanding much about the Modoc race.

No one in the family really knew that much about the Modoc race, except Tom. The three men knew that Thomas wanted them to be quiet about his chore. In their hearts they promised not to talk about it unless someone asked them.

Dinner was strained as the family ate quietly. Thomas felt a little too sick to do much talking and Ellen was thinking about the Modoc lessons she had learned today from Rachel Whitecrow's mother.

The Modoc language wasn't progressing as well as it should and Ellen had to think out her responses when someone asked her a question in Modoc.

The thought caused Ellen to flush with shame. It was humiliating that her father was full-blooded and could speak the language fluently while she couldn't without stuttering or looking foolish.

Even Thomas spoke the language better than she did and he had known it as long as she did.

Ellen looked at her mother and father. Tom wasn't talkative unless he was talking to a family member or yelling at the twins for something they had done wrong.

Audra looked upset about something and apparently it was Thomas she was upset at.

"What did you do, Tommy?" Ellen whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

"I didn't stay in bed today, Ellie," Thomas said, hoping that his sister's questions would stop with that one.

"That's probably the reason why Mama's angry," Ellen said sarcastically.

"Why are you angry, Ellen?" Sully jumped into the conversation.

Everyone looked at Sully. "I never said I was angry," Ellen said, her eyebrows raising slightly.

"You're playing with your food, Ellen," Tom pointed out, covering her hand with his large one.

Ellen had the grace to blush for the second time that day. "Do any of you ever feel like you want to crawl under a rock and die of embarrassment?" Ellen asked, kneading the tabletop with her free hand.

'What happened that was so embarrassing, Ellen?" Jarrod asked his niece, feeling concerned.

"I went to the reservation today and Rachel's mother has been trying to teach me the Modoc language," Ellen said, taking a deep breath so the tears wouldn't come out.

"That sounds nice," Victoria said cheerfully, trying to make her granddaughter feel better.

"No, it's not, Nana! It's awful! Mrs. Whitecrow says my Modoc is slow and I'm still mixing up words. I have to think out my responses before I answer any questions," Ellen said, one lone tear falling down her face.

"Ellen, you've only been my daughter for a few months. You didn't know the Modoc language before then. It takes time to learn any language," Tom said gently.

"Tell that to our people who still think I'm just a white girl and not part of the tribe," Ellen grumbled under her breath.

"Ellen, if that's the way you see yourself that's all you are ever going to be. Your mother was a Barkley before she married your father and that makes you and your brother Barkleys too- Victoria started.

"I know that already, Nana. What has that got to do with speaking Modoc?" Ellen interrupted, wishing that Victoria wouldn't yell at her.

"Being a Barkley won't help you with speaking Modoc, but you shouldn't feel sorry for yourself either. The Ellen Lightfoot that I knew a few years ago wouldn't feel sorry for herself. What has happened to her?" Victoria asked, standing up and walking to her granddaughter's side.

"I don't know. It's like when I found out about my Indian blood I figured it was time I grew up," Ellen said, her voice tiny.

"I know what that feels like," Thomas muttered under his breath. Everyone looked at him.

"If you think you are so grown up, Thomas Lightfoot, you had better tell us where you were," Audra said, her tone frosty.

"I had to run an errand. Believe me if my errand works out like it should, you'll hear about it, Mother," Thomas said, picking up his glass of milk.

The rest of the meal was taken in silence. Audra and Victoria were too upset to speak with either twin and Tom and the others were too concerned. Tom found himself wondering what his son's errand was. Whatever it was Thomas must have thought his father wouldn't like it.

Tom felt amusement well up inside. Thomas knew his father too well. Tom looked down at his pot roast, trying to forget Thomas's errand.

Thomas sat playing checkers with Jack Watson. No matter what Tom said about the boy, Thomas liked him and thought he was perfect for his twin.

"So, what did you do that made your mother upset?" Jack asked, clearly out of the blue.

"You really want to know, Jack?" Thomas asked, taking one of Jack's checkers.

"Yep," Jack said, making his next move.

"I went to the sheriff to see if he would arrest Graywolf. I don't want the tribal chiefs to punish those Indians for what they did to me," Thomas said, pushing a lock of dark hair out of his eyes.

"When are you going to tell your father?" Jack asked, feeling concern for his friend.

"I don't know. I don't think now is the time to tell him. Father's upset that the man had the audacity to kidnap and lock me in that cabin. He might tell the chiefs to kill Graywolf and I don't want that," Thomas said, moving a checker forward.

"He will find out eventually," Jack said, wondering if this was not the brightest thing his friend could have done.

"I know, but I'd rather him find out when Graywolf is arrested and put in jail," Thomas said, with a sigh that came from his toes.

"Are you going to tell Ellen?" Jack asked. Even though he was not allowed to marry her he still loved her a great deal. Jack wouldn't marry Ellen without Tom's blessing. He respected the man too much to do that to him and the Barkley family.

"Yes. Do you still love my sister?" Thomas asked, feeling stupid for even asking.

"Yes, but I want to hear it from your father that it's okay that I marry your sister. Promise me that you won't tell Ellen that I still love her," Jack said, standing up.

"That's a silly promise. Ellen knows you love her and she loves you," Thomas retorted, sounding like Nick Barkley.

"Not any sillier than you not wanting to tell your father what you did," Jack snapped back, just as upset as Thomas.

Thomas pressed his lips together in a thin line. "I stand corrected. I'm going to go finish some of my schoolwork that Ellie brought me," Thomas said stiffly.

'Are you still going to tell you father?" Jack asked, following his friend to the stairs.

"Tomorrow. I just hope he's not going to be angry when he finds out about it," Thomas said, with a resigned sigh as he went up to his room.

Tom rode his horse into the Modoc reservation followed by Heath, Jarrod, Nick, and Sully. With the snow on the ground there weren't a whole lot of people around.

A few men stood in front of the meetinghouse smoking their pipes of red willow bark. Tom and the others slowed their horses in front of Jack Lightfoot's cabin.

Ruth Lightfoot opened the door, her elderly face becoming a thousand wrinkles by her smile. "Hello, Nephew," Ruth greeted Tom in Modoc.

"Aunt Ruth, you know my wife's brothers and this is Sully. His wife is a doctor in Colorado," Tom said, first in English then in Modoc. Tom didn't like using just one language when either side of his family was in the room. If he spoke in just Modoc Audra and her family wouldn't understand anything that he said. If he spoke in English then his Modoc relations wouldn't know what he said either. So he just used both languages around them and translated for his wife and her family.

"It's a pleasure. Please come in. I have soup on the hearth," Ruth said in Modoc and waited for her nephew to translate.

Ruth could speak a little English, but not that well. Her husband had learned more of it in the recent years since their nephew had married a white woman. Jack said that if his nephew's children didn't understand Modoc that well then they had to learn English for their sakes.

"How Ellen, Tho-maas?" Ruth asked in broken English. Ruth called her great-nephew Tho-maas since it was hard to pronounce it like a white man.

Tom sighed a deep sigh that came from his toes. "I don't know. Thomas is getting over his bout of pneumonia and fever, but he has done something and he won't tell me about it," Tom said in Modoc, not bothering to translate for the Barkleys or Sully.

Ruth handed bowls of water lily bulbs to all the men. "You much like father. Before mother die your father much strict," Ruth said, still in her broken English.

"I never hid anything from my father, Aunt Ruth!" Tom exploded in anger.

"Tom, I think she is trying to say is that you are just like your father and your son is like you at fifteen. I think Thomas feels that if he tells you the truth that you will be so angry that you won't want him as your son," Jarrod said, picking his words carefully in front of his angry brother-in-law.

Before Tom could respond Jack and some of the tribal chiefs came in the room. Some of the faces were contorted with anger.

Billy Smallfox, the leader of the Modocs on the reservation, was the first to speak. Billy spoke in English since their was white men present.

"Hello Tom. I suppose you have heard that Graywolf has been arrested," Billy said, after shaking Tom's hand.

"I haven't heard. When did it happen?" Tom asked, wondering what this had to do with him.

"We went to ask the white man's sheriff in Stockton if he would deliver Sam to us and he said no," Adam Cottontree said, his voice barely hiding the anger.

"Did he give you a reason?" Jarrod asked Billy. Jarrod was a friend of the Modoc people and Billy often asked Jarrod about the Modoc Reparations Bill.

"Yes. He said that your son didn't wish for Graywolf to be punished for nearly killing him. He came to the white man a few days ago and asked if Graywolf could be tried by the white man's justice," Billy said, his voice turning steely.

That was it. That was why Thomas didn't want his father or mother to know about his errand. Tom felt more than a little irritated. His son had lied to him again like that time with the rock last summer.

Tom took a few deep breaths before answering. "I am sorry for my son's actions. He's only a boy and he thought he was doing the right thing," Tom said slowly.

"No need to apologize, Tom. You didn't know what the boy was planning. But he did interfere in Modoc law. Are you going to talk to him?" Billy asked, clapping his friend's shoulder.

"As soon as I get back to the ranch," Tom said, his jaw tightening.

All the men-except Jack-nodded their heads and left the cabin. "He thought he was doing the right thing, Nephew. Don't judge him to harshly," Ruth said, placing her tiny hand on Tom's shoulder.

"We knew what the boy was planning too, Tom," Nick said, indicating himself, Heath, and Sully.

"What?" Tom asked surprised.

"The day of Thomas's errand we found him in the barn. He told us what he did. Don't be too angry with him, Lightfoot. He just didn't want to see a man killed," Sully said, jumping to Thomas's defense.

Tom thought through this whole thing. While it was noble that Thomas didn't want a man killed, the boy shouldn't have lied to him. Tom was going to say that when he got back to the ranch.

The five men said good-bye and mounted their horses. The whole trip back to the ranch was taken in silence.

Thomas felt the banister as he walked down the stairs. If he held it tight chances were he wouldn't fall down these steps. He didn't want to give his family another reason to worry about him.

Thomas couldn't have picked worse timing. Just as he got within sight of the door his father, uncles and Sully came in the house.

If his father's face was any indication he was very upset about something. "Thomas Lightfoot, get down here," Tom ordered sharply.

Thomas knew he would be stupid to say no to that tone of voice. What have I done now? Thomas thought irritably.

Thomas slowly made his way down the steps and managed to look his father in the eye.

"I ought to take you over my knee for what you have done," Tom threatened.

"What did I do, Uncle Jarrod?" Thomas asked, looking toward his favorite uncle.

''You kind of interfered with Modoc law," Jarrod said, trying to smooth over the tense situation between his brother-in-law and nephew.

Thomas winced slightly. "Oh that. Well, I'm sorry I disgraced you, Father. But in case you haven't noticed I am not full-blooded Modoc. Some of the laws don't apply to me," Thomas said, his voice dripping with scorn.

"Don't you backtalk me, Boy!" Thomas snapped sharply.

"Don't call me Boy! I am fifteen not three!" Thomas said, his father's temper flaring up at that moment.

"If you want me to treat you like a man, behave like one," Tom snapped back.

"Yeah right. You want me to think like you and every other Modoc on the reservation. I can't do that. I have to know when to be Modoc and when to be white. And killing someone I am not going to agree with. I am sorry I disobeyed you, but I am not sorry that I went to the sheriff," Thomas said, his jaw set defiantly.

Then a dizzy spell attacked. Thomas put his hand to his head and sank to the floor.

Heath and Sully rushed to him. "Tom, is this a good thing to do to the boy? He only wanted to see justice done and he's still recovering from the pneumonia," Heath said, wrapping Thomas's arm around his neck while Sully wrapped the other arm around his neck.

The two men carried Thomas into the parlor and placed him on an overstuffed chair. "Heath's right, Tom. Your children adore you, but they are not you. They have to follow their hearts," Jarrod said, before going to tell Audra about Thomas's collapse.

Thomas's face was as gray as ash as Dr. Mike pressed a cold compress to his head. "Thanks, Dr. Mike," Thomas said faintly.

Due to overexerting himself Thomas's pneumonia had relapsed and Dr. Merar and Dr. Mike prescribed bed rest again. At this moment Thomas felt so tired that all he wanted to do was fall asleep.

Thomas had a quilt on him, but that didn't stop Audra from putting an extra one by his feet like she had done before. "Thanks, Mother. I love you," Thomas said, giving his mother a brief grin.

Audra touched his warm forehead gently with her soft hand. Audra turned to her husband, anger evident in her blue eyes.

"Tom, how could you yell at him like that? All he was doing was showing mercy to his enemy," Audra hissed.

"Mama, don't," Thomas said, his voice nearly giving out.

Audra looked down at her son. "You haven't called me that since you were five," Audra said surprised.

"I know. I just don't want you to think I've forgotten that name," Thomas said. Swallowing deeply the sore ache in his throat.

Thomas coughed into his hand, unable to speak for a few minutes.

"Father, I'm sorry. I should have told you about the chore," Thomas said, his voice barely audible.

"I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have gotten angry. You were right, my son. You are not only Modoc. You are also white. Some of the rules don't apply to you and Ellen," Tom said, sitting in the chair across from Thomas's bed.

"How long did it take you to figure out that I am right, Father?" Thomas's faint voice teased his father.

Audra and Tom started to laugh at Thomas's teasing tone. "Uncle Jarrod, who's going to defend Graywolf?" Thomas asked when the mirth subsided.

"I don't know, Thomas. The way the town feels the judge may pick his lawyer for him. While the town thinks you are just an Indian, they are not going to try Graywolf for kidnapping you. They are just going to try him for being an Indian," Jarrod said, sitting down on the window seat in Thomas's room.

"That's not right. Tell them...It's not...right...Uncle Jarrod," Thomas said, falling asleep.

All the grownups looked at each other. The boy was right and all of them knew that. The only problem was to see that Graywolf was tried fairly.

A few weeks later Thomas sat in his room reading Ben-Hur. The relapse of his illness had nearly caused him to miss the court case against Graywolf.

Tom had had to carry his son into the courtroom so Thomas could testify. The pneumonia had weakened the boy and Dr. Mike and Dr. Merar had both said that it would be awhile before he would be his old self.

Thomas had just finished his book when the door opened. Tom entered with a tray of food.

"Are you hungry?" Tom asked, putting the tray on Thomas's night table.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't," Thomas said, a faint smile on his face.

"Well, that's a good sign. It proves that your strength is coming back," Tom said, picking up the plate and sticking the fork inside the mashed potatoes.

"Father, you don't have to spoon-feed me. I can feed myself," Thomas said, taking the plate from him. Thomas's voice sounded slightly strained at Tom's trying to baby him.

Tom shook his head and smiled a rueful smile. "I don't understand you or Ellen sometimes. You say I don't care and when I do you hate me for it," Tom said.

"I don't hate you. This is hard to say to a father. Especially since it's my father," Thomas said, muttering the last sentence under his breath.

"Why don't you just tell me? I'll decide if it's hard for me to hear," Tom said, his voice not sounding as strict as it normally did.

"Ya see, when I was small I wanted a father figure who cared and you were never there. That's why I always looked up to Uncle Jarrod or Sully. I want your love because you're my father, but I don't want to be treated like a three-year-old either. I am fifteen. I'm old enough to make some decisions on my own," Thomas said, hoping that the look on Tom's face wasn't an angry look.

"I just thought that if I raised you like all the Modoc boys that I was doing the right thing," Tom said, cupping the side of his son's neck with his large hand.

"That's the problem, Father. I am Modoc, but I am also white. I have to live in both worlds. Some of the rules-such as killing a man for kidnapping-are not going to apply to me," Thomas said, hearing his voice rise with each minute.

"I guess you're right about that. I guess I should have taken into consideration when I married your mother that my children would have to live in both cultures," Tom said, the rueful smile across his face again.

"Don't worry about it," Thomas said, picking up the fork and taking a miniscule bite of his potatoes.

"How about we make a compromise?" Tom asked his son after watching him eat for a few minutes.

"What compromise?" Thomas asked, remembering to swallow before talking.

"How about I send you to medical school and your sister to law school?" Tom asked.

"Sounds fair and I probably have to promise never to disobey you in front of the Modoc people again, right?" Thomas asked, sounding happy that Tom would let him be a doctor.

"How did you ever guess?" Tom asked, with fake sarcasm.

"I know you a little too well, Father," Thomas said dryly.

"How about I take you fishing when you get better?" Tom asked, taking the plate from his son and placing it on the tray a few minutes later.

"Sounds good. Can Uncle Heath, Uncle Nick, Uncle Jarrod, Sully, and Jack come with us?" Thomas said, picking up his book again.

"Of course they can. See you at dinner," Tom said, opening the door and walking out.

Thomas grinned as he watched his father leave. Graywolf was in prison and he and his father were not as angry with each other as they had been. He didn't know what would happen next to their family, but, he could say, today was a wonderful day.

THE END