"Can I go back?" Blair asked, pointing to the treatment room. The curtain still hid Buck. "I'll be real quiet."

"Sure, I was going to come out to get you anyway. We're waiting for some medication to take effect." She made `go ahead' waves with her hand. "He'd probably like the company."

Blair didn't mind being grounded when he had a new book to read. Even if being grounded for a few cuss words was stupid. Well, okay, there was the fact he'd done a crappy job in the garden. But he'd warned Buck he hadn't liked gardening, so that wasn't entirely his fault. At least he had a reprieve for the rest of the day. Working with `Old Guss' was not an option with his new stitches.

"Ready for dinner?" Buck asked from the doorway.

Blair looked up from reading about haystack boulders. He was hungry. Lunch had been a bean burrito in Soap Lake and that was forever ago. Setting the book carefully down on his bedroll, Blair stood up. "I'm starving."

"Good, I think I fixed too much food. You're going to have to give me a hand." Buck disappeared back into the kitchen, waving once for Blair to follow.

Blair grinned; he was starting to see parts of this guy worth liking.

The table was loaded with food. Fresh rolls, apple sauce, a pasta salad and a plate of fragrant meat covered with a brown sauce. Heat waves rose and shimmered. Blair's stomach growled as he breathed in the hot aroma. God, he really shouldn't be eating more meat. Naomi was going to have a freaking cow if she ever found out. Still, it wasn't polite to refuse...

"Wash up," Buck ordered from the sink as he finished drying his own hands. "Careful with those stitches, try and keep the bandage dry."

Blair gladly followed orders and soon was greedily digging into the food. Buck didn't seem to mind the big helpings either. It was different than when he and Naomi lived in the communes or stayed with friends. Seemed like the crowd never seemed to match the food on the table and she had always preached restraint at the meals. But here... this was different. Just him and Buck and all this food.

"What's this stuff?" Blair asked after starting in on a second helping. He didn't know much about meat dishes.

"It's called tongue," Buck answered while getting ready to add another helping of pasta to his plate with a long wooden spoon.

Blair paused. "Did you say-"

The sound of a car's motor interrupted the conversation, causing Buck to stand. Blair realized just then how very quiet it was to live out here - when a single car could sound so loud. He hadn't noticed that before, it was nice. Buck went to the door, still holding the spoon and Blair followed.

Maybe Naomi and The Jerk had returned.

Blair peered around Buck's large frame. Buck had the screen door blocked open with one shoulder. He could see the car wasn't `The Jerk's' at all, but a long blue car like a businessman might drive. It looked out of place on the dirt roads and kicked up long dust clouds. The car entered the area between the house and barn and stopped. Buck walked out onto the covered porch. The sun had already fallen behind the western rocky rim of the cliff, but it was still plenty light enough to see by.

Two men got out. In Blair's mind, they both looked mad. They made a point of looking around first before walking over to stand at the base of the short staircase to the porch.

"We're looking for Stevens." The speaker looked about fifty pounds heavier than his companion, most of the weight above his waist. He had a long, hooked nose and a dopey looking flattened forehead with yellow hair that was combed straight back.

"I'm Stevens," Buck answered.

"Not the one we want," the heavier guy answered. He looked at Blair, his eyes narrowing. "You're that chick's boy, aren't you? What was her name?" He snapped his fingers at his companion as if expecting the answer.

The other guy was a few inches taller and had long, bony wrists. "Norma or something."

"Go back inside, runt," Buck ordered softly.

Blair didn't want to. He stared at the taller guy. Something about him was familiar. "You're from Florida, aren't you?" Blair's mind raced. He had a ticket home. "Are you going back? Can you take me? I can pay, man, I-."

"Get. Inside." Buck's order snapped the air. He grabbed Blair's shoulder and turned him around.

Blair took a step toward the doorway. He paused and looked back. "But I-"

Buck's hand moved fast. The wide end of the spoon descended like a striking snake that Blair once saw on a TV nature show. Sharp pain blossomed over his rear end, catapulting him back into the living room. The solid door closed behind him, leaving him dazed as he absentmindedly rubbed his stinging butt. He could hear the men talking, not able to make out the low tones.

Ten minutes later when Buck came back inside and the sound of the car driving off announced the discussion was finished, Blair was waiting.

"You hit me!"

Buck leaned on the closed door behind him, eyeing Blair with an indiscernible look. A small part of Blair's brain was sending a serious warning to his mouth to shut up. After all, that damn spoon was still in the man's hand. But Blair was still too angry to pay it any mind.

"When I tell you something, I expect it done," Buck answered in a stern voice.

"Those guys were from Florida! They could have given me a ride back to the farm, damnit!" Blair stamped the floor with his foot to make his point. "I could've helped with the gas and everything. I wanted to talk to them. You have no right to boss me around, man."

Buck's gaze switched briefly to the ceiling. He took a slow breath through tight lips before answering. "What's the first rule around here?"

"Those are your stupid rules, not mine!" Blair yelled, losing his patience further. "I just want to go back to Florida!"

Buck's answer was quiet. Even in Blair's angry state of mind, he recognized the dangerous tone. "Go to your room, Blair."

Blair thought about it. He weighted the odds. The car was long gone. There was no way he'd catch up with them on foot. Besides, he would need to pack his stuff first. With a sharp pivot on one heel, he stormed off to the room, slamming the door behind him. He threw himself down on the foam bed. The new book dug into his ribs. Without looking, he reached between his body and the blanket, grabbed the book and flung it away. Hot tears burned his eyes and his chest ached as he gulped air.

He hated Dry Falls. He hated Buck and `The Jerk'. He hated Eastern Washington. The first sob came and he smashed his face into the pillow, muffling the sound. Like a small rupture in the side of a filled balloon, all his anger spilled out with his tears, leaving behind the deep emptiness of bitter abandonment and confusion.

Naomi...

The bust went down easily and Jim was ecstatic when the suspect was taken into custody without his involvement. They found him hiding behind the large rolling bins filled with dirty clothes waiting for the dry cleaning process. The other detectives cuffed and frisked him, finding only the thin wire cable he used to strangle his women after raping them.

"Good job, Jim," Simon said with a grin.

"I'm just glad we got the creep off the streets," Jim admitted, he glanced down at his watch. "Simon..."

"Go," his boss answered with a nod. "I'll cover for you. Keep your cell phone on, just in case, okay?"

"Thanks." Jim turned as he spoke, anxious to get on the road.

Simon lifted his chin. "Jim. Tell Buck, if he knows what's good for him, he'd better be okay."

Jim flashed his friend a smile before running toward his parked Ford. Back in his Expedition, Jim ran down a mental checklist. The loft was secure. He had his emergency overnight bag in the Ford, plenty of gas, a credit card. There was no reason he couldn't head directly for the nearest freeway ramp. This time of night the traffic on the mountain pass should be light. With any kind of luck, any local trooper would be in an all-night coffee shop.

The doctor had removed Buck's shirt. Patches clung to different parts of his chest and Blair could see where they had shaved his graying chest hairs to make solid connections for the leads. He had similar patches on his arms and even his ankle. All wires led to a machine that drew squiggly lines of light on several parallel readouts stacked one on top of another. A man in his thirties sat on a low metal stool, monitoring the machine, ignoring the patient.

Blair moved to stand by Buck's narrow hospital bed.

Buck's eyes opened. "Hey, runt."

"What's happening?" Blair whispered, clamping down on Buck's forearm with both hands. "Do they know?"

Before Buck could answer, the third person in the room spoke. "We're running some tests, looking for changes in his blood enzymes. We'll know in a few hours. Till then, we'll continue to monitor Mr. Stevens' heart," the technician said as he stood. He nodded. "I'll be back. You just call if you need anything, okay?"

Buck closed his eyes again. "Sit, before you fall down."

Blair's knees did feel weak. He released Buck long enough to roll the now empty stool into place. Then sitting at Buck's side, he grabbed the man's forearm again. Buck looked tired. "You okay? Need a blanket or something?"

Buck shook his head. "I'm fine." Opening his eyes, he locked Blair's gaze with an intense look. "Listen to me, I'm fine. This is going to turn out to be no big deal."

"You don't know that," Blair insisted.

"They'd be acting a lot more concerned if they thought it was my heart. The tests will show I'll probably need to stop eating jalapenos or something." A corner of Buck's mouth tugged upward.

Blair wanted to believe that more than anything. Exhausted from worrying, he curled his back and pressed his forehead against Buck's arm. He felt Buck's other hand cup the back of his head. Blair's entire body shook with fine tremors. The lure of hope was strong, but Blair wasn't willing to go there yet. The importance of this man scared him. If a universe was measured by the essential people each person knew, Blair's world was small. Only three people occupied it; his mom, Jim, and Buck. "Please...."

"I'm not going anywhere, Blair."

That night Buck slept with his loaded shotgun.

In the morning, Blair was sullen during breakfast. He didn't talk about yesterday. He didn't talk at all. Technically it was his last day of being grounded and after yesterday's incident with the jack, Buck had been considering giving the kid a reprieve. But remembering last night's argument, the plan was scrapped.

Besides, Buck wasn't convinced those two Florida yahoos driving that Cadillac would stay away. It was best to keep the twelve year-old close. They had made it clear Eugene owed them money. Apparently, his brother had found the need to start his sojourn back to his childhood home at one in the morning, Florida time. Did Eugene welsh on their financial agreement?

Buck considered the story the two had told him yesterday. It was ludicrous to believe Eugene thought he could take Dry Falls and turn it into a hippie retreat, or whatever they called it. His younger brother was seriously delusional if he thought Buck was willing to give up his home. Eugene didn't own a square foot of their family land anymore. Buck did. He'd worked too hard, too long to give it up. But it must have been his brother's plan. Or else how would those two have known about Dry Falls? Buck didn't care. He had clearly explained to them that this land was not going to be a retreat. And he'd told the truth about Eugene. He had no idea where his brother had gone. Thankfully, the two men seemed to believe him and had left.

But a deep instinct told Buck it wasn't over.

"I'm finished," Blair swallowed the last of his third sausage, pushed the empty bowl of oatmeal away and started to rise.

"Wait to be excused," Buck reminded. His mother had instilled a code of conduct at meals. Buck found it impossible to ignore them.

"What?" Blair's moody expression was clouded for a moment with confusion.

Buck shook his head. The two of them might as well have been raised on different planets. "It's proper to ask to be excused from the table before leaving."

"Wh-" Blair cut his question short, his shoulders sagging. "Can I be excused?" he recited tonelessly.

"You may." Buck started collecting the dirty glasses. "I'd get your weeding started before it gets too hot if I were you. Don't forget to wear those new gloves. Mind your hand."

Buck washed the dishes, and gathered up the tools he needed to repair the water pump in the camping trailer. He passed the garden on his way to the trailer, noting the way Blair was working with purpose this time, as if he intended on being done with his allotment of rows for the day. Buck had added extra padding over the stitches, so he should be fine. Perhaps if they could get through the morning without another incident, he'd end the kid's grounding at five.

Morning passed with both man and boy finishing their assigned jobs. Lunch was another quiet meal. Blair asked to be excused after eating half the roast beef sandwich and two handfuls of chips. He carried his plate and glass to the sink.

"I'll finish the barn," Blair stated.

Buck raised an eyebrow in surprise. "I've got some repair work to do on the house."

Avoiding eye contact, Blair picked up his new gardening gloves and took them along. Buck let him go without a comment. After an hour of working on repairing a loose section of the front porch railing, something caused Buck to wander out the barn to make sure Blair was okay. Inside the barn he found Blair on his knees, one arm straight, hand in the dirt, the other wrapped around his stomach, caught in the act of vomiting.

"Blair!" Buck dropped to one knee, his arm circling under the boy's chest to help support him. "Easy, kid. I got you."

A sizeable puddle had already splattered onto the barn's floor. Buck was relieved to see no blood. He took a clean handkerchief from his back pocket. Judging the worst over as Blair dropped to rest on his heels. Buck carefully wiped the traces of vomit from the pale and sweaty face. "Talk to me, runt, are you hurting anywhere?"

"My stomach..." Blair mumbled slowly, "...hurts."

"When did this start?" The smell was foul, causing Buck to breathe through his mouth.

"Kinda felt... weird all day," the kid admitted, groaning miserably.

"Okay, kid." Buck carefully pulled Blair to his feet and supported him during the walk back to the house. "I think you need some down time. See if we can't find you some stomach medicine." He laid a palm on Blair's forehead, not feeling a fever.

Blair didn't protest when Buck took him to the kitchen sink. He filled a glass with water and had him rinse. That done, Buck made him comfortable on the living room's sofa. He knew from experience, this would remain the coolest part of the house, thanks in part to the ceiling fan. With Blair settled in, Buck gently pushed on the kid's stomach. "What's it feel like? Is the pain all over, or in one spot?"

"All over, like waves of yucky." Blair's gaze slid away to the ceiling. He caught his lower lip between his teeth. "I think, ah, I'm not used to eating m-much meat."

"Well, that will do it," Buck said. "It's hard to digest sometimes. You did put away a few sausages." Buck purposely teased the boy, pleased to see a hint of a smile in return. "How about I find some pink stuff and you rest some. You can read if you feel like it, I'll get your new book." Buck patted Blair's knee once and stood. Sure enough, the small office/room was much warmer, even with the curtains shut. He caught sight of the new book on the floor under the desk. The book was open and face down. It didn't take a genius to figure out how it had ended up in such a strange location. He leaned over and pulled it out from its location, smoothing a few creased pages out on his way back to the living room.

Blair's face was scarlet.

Buck laid the book next to Blair's shoulder. "I'm proud of the way you worked so hard today, runt. Especially while you felt poorly. I think we can officially end your first trip into the land of being grounded, okay?"

The proclamation seemed to startle Blair. "Honest?"

"Yeah." Buck patted his arm. "Look, I know you're missing your friends and your mom, but you'll have an easier time if you remember the rules. I'm rather insistent about that first one, the rest will sort of fall into place. Can you remember that?"

Buck sat down on the sofa's edge as Blair studied him with a thoughtful expression. "Naomi never hits me."

"First of all, I'm not Naomi." Buck winked, face deadpan. The effect produced another shy smile. "Secondly - well, I got to tell you, runt - that's called a spank. And when I didn't do something after being told to, I got plenty of them when I was your age."

"Plenty? More than once?" Blair asked with a gasp, both eyebrows inching up on his forehead.

Buck shrugged. "What can I say? I was stubborn. But my dad was even more stubborn. Anyway, that visit yesterday had my hackles up, I don't trust those two. How well do you know them?"

"I only saw the taller guy a couple of times." Blair absentmindedly rubbed his stomach as he spoke. "Talking to The Je-." The comment fell off, he caught himself smoothly. "... your brother. That's all I know."

"Lets just keep our eyes out for them, okay?" Buck stood. "I'll get you something for that stomach."

"Thanks, Mr. Stevens," Blair answered.

Blair woke up to a cool breeze. No wonder he was dreaming of Florida and lying on the beach enjoying a nice ocean breeze. A boxy fan sat on the floor in the room, sending a gentle current of air circulating through the room. A light cotton blanket covered him. Blair rubbed both eyes. His stomach no longer hurt; if anything, it wanted more food.

Sitting up, Blair waited a minute to get his bearings before wandering out into the darkened kitchen. He noticed that half way through the mornings, Buck closed all the windows and drapes. It seemed weird at first, but Blair realized Buck was keeping the heat out during the hottest part of the day. Then after the sun went down and things started to cool off outside, the man would open everything up again and leave it that way all night. He found Buck sitting in a chair on the porch. He had the old chair tilted back, his legs crossed at the ankles, one boot heel propped on the railing, reading a book. Blair moved forward cautiously, unsure if he was welcome. The screen door creaked and Buck looked up.

"How's the gut?" He nodded to the empty chair next to his.

"Better." Blair accepted the invitation and sat down. There was no way his legs could reach the railing, so he was forced to keep all four chair legs down. It was still warm outside, but comfortable in the shade of the porch. A breeze blew up from the south, cooled by the lake. It was nice. "Whatcha reading?"

"A how-to book on orchard growing." Buck closed the book and set it aside. "Feel up to a trip?"

"Where?"

"I thought we'd take a bike ride."

"Sure!"

Soon, with a simple foil wrapped dinner tucked away in Blair's backpack, they were heading north. Blair liked being on the back of the dirt bike. He gripped the sides of Buck's shirt tightly as the knobby tires flew over the dirt trail. They were following the same fork of the canyon that Blair had started to explore on foot a few days ago. The trail dodged large boulders and shrubs, taking them over flat expanses of open spaces. The warm air lifted Blair's hair and tickled his neck. Whenever they passed through a long shadow cast by the low sun, the coolness brought a promise of the evening's relief. Eventually Buck reached a spot were he slowed, then finally came to a stop.

"Watch the muffler," Buck warned.

Blair was careful climbing off. He wore a dark blue ball cap that Buck had cinched down in the back to fit his head. The long bill protected his face from the sun. After Buck made sure the kickstand was on solid ground and the bike was safe, they went forward on foot, starting at the base of a long cliff wall. Blair could see it was actually a row of vertical rock columns standing side by side, like a huge fence. Bending his neck as far back as he could, Blair looked up at the unusual formation.

"What're those?"

"Basalt columns."

"What caused it?"

Buck smiled down at him. "You haven't gotten to that part of the book yet?"

Shaking his head, Blair continued to gawk in wonder.

"Then you're going to love this next part," he said teasingly. "Come on."

Blair followed. After a bit, he could see they were using a lightly traveled animal trail. Blair had no problem keeping up. The basalt columns were truly strange and Blair wished now he'd spent more time reading last night. He'd read enough to know long ago many volcanoes had erupted, sending lava flows throughout the region. Maybe these telephone pole-sized columns were caused by a volcano.

Buck left the trail and started up a slope built from loose rocks at the base of the cliff. He used his hands for balance and Blair followed suit, being careful with his left hand. It was hard work, but Blair's curiosity was in control now, so he didn't care. Besides, if this guy could climb at his old age, Blair should be able to handle it easy. After all, the guy had to be over thirty years old. Over Buck's shoulder, Blair could see a dark spot at the top of the slope, right up against the base of the sheer wall, like a shadow.

"A cave!" Blair blurted out.

"Yep."

"Wow!" Blair hurried, trying to cut a path above the adult.

"Hold up, Speed Racer," Buck ordered. "Let's make sure the cave's empty."

Blair fell back into line, with images of wild bears and mountain lions springing to mind. But soon Buck gave the all clear and they both stood at the cave's entrance. Blair thought it amazing, walking into the roomy cavern. He could see the back wall now. The entire area was equivalent to Buck's house. The ceiling was blackened as if by smoky fires. Small mounds of mud clung upside down. Maybe bird nests? Bats didn't use mud, did they? The floor was littered with rocks and sticks. Some spots were rough, others places sandy. A white, shiny thing drew his attention and he neared it cautiously. It was an animal skull about the size of a golf ball. Other bones, long and short, were strewn about in the same area. Blair shuddered.

"I found this place back when I was your age, maybe a little younger," Buck said as he strolled around the cave, studying the walls. "Look here."

Blair came over, peering to where Buck pointed.

"I used poster paint," Buck explained. "It's a little faded now."

Blair could make out two letters. "B.S. Hey, those are my initials."

"Mine, too." Buck grinned. He let his gaze travel over the cave. "Many years ago, people used this cave to get out of the sun, or stay dry as they traveled."

"Who?" Blair asked. "Indians?"

"Later, yeah, American Indians. But even before that, the original people came here by walking down from Alaska, after they walked over from Asia." Buck found a stool-sized boulder and sat. He held out his hand for the pack. "Let's eat some dinner. How's your stomach?"

"Empty." Blair slipped out of his pack and offered it. "What do you mean, Asia? That's not possible."

"We're talking a long time ago, runt." Buck rummaged around in the pack and pulled out foil wrapped sandwiches. "They were called Amerinds. Eskimos and Aleuts came later. The water between Alaska and Asia froze to create a bridge."

"I remember reading about that." Blair sat cross-legged in the sand, near Buck's feet. The view below them was enticing and Blair found himself following the contours of the canyon walls with his eyes. "Forget the name, though."

"Bering land bridge," Buck offered. "No one knows for sure when the first man came to this area. Could've been as long ago as seventy thousand years, or as recent as twelve thousand. All depends on who you listen to."

Blair bit into the bread. Two small plastic jugs of melting ice water had kept their meal cool. Thankfully, the sandwich was egg salad, not meat. Blair didn't care if he ever saw another sausage, but he didn't mind the tongue, which was so weird. He had no idea folks even ate that sort of thing, it sounded gross. Blair didn't care; he liked the taste. His thoughts returned to their discussion. "Twelve thousand years doesn't sound that recent to me."

"Considering the age of our planet, it's a drop in the bucket." Buck folded one leg, ankle resting on his opposite knee. He leaned forward as he peered out at the land before them. "Just picture it, kid, woolly mammoth, mastodon, longhorn bison, caribou, musk ox, even camels roamed here. Sabre-toothed tigers hunted them. Giant Condors flew above our heads."

Blair stopped chewing. "No way. What happened to them?"

"Some were hunted for food, the rest probably died in the floods and lava flows," Buck said. "More likely they were adapted to a very specific environment and the end of the last ice age changed conditions too rapidly for them to adapt".

"I did read about the floods," Blair said excitedly. "The ice dammed the river all the way back in Idaho and Montana. Then the ice dam broke and all the water came, right?"

"Yep, actually that probably happened a dozen times. Those floods scoured this land and created these canyons we're in. It even helped to divert the Columbia River."

That was news to Blair. He knew how big the Columbia was. He'd seen it with his Mom once, down by Oregon. It was huge. They ate their sandwiches quietly for a few minutes. Buck finished first and pulled out a plastic sack of corn chips. He took a handful and set it on the ground by Blair's knee.

"Before I was born, my Dad said some folks found a rhinoceros mold just down from our property," Buck went on to explain.

Blair's sandwich was gone now. He dipped into the bag. "What do you mean, mold?"

"About fourteen million years ago, give or take a few thousand..." Buck smiled when Blair snorted, "... all this land got covered with volcanic lava. The rhino was in a lake, in fact, they think it was already dead. The lava covered it completely, then cooled, leaving the cast behind."

"How do they know it was really a rhinoceros?" Blair challenged. "Lava is molten rock. It's supposed to burn everything it touches."

Buck shrugged. He brushed his palms together, knocking off the corn chips crumbs. "The animal was in the water, so the lava was already cooling. That forms something called `pillow lava'. I've got a sample back at the house, remind me and I'll show you. But the real clincher was when they found the jaw bone of the rhino inside the cast, the teeth were still attached."

Blair's own jaw dropped open. Imagine, finding teeth of a rhinoceros.

"It's all in that book of yours, that and more." Buck looked down at the boy sitting there. "We've got some pretty amazing things to explore around here. Some folks think the canyons are ugly and boring. I don't. I lived here all my life and I never want to leave it."

Blair had to admit all this talk about cavemen, volcanoes and cool extinct animals was neat. It would be awesome to figure stuff like that out. "Do they have real jobs where you get to walk around and explore stuff?"

"Sure, lots of them." Buck reached down for another handful of chips. "You can study the land, old fossils, and prehistoric animals like dinosaurs. You can even study different cultures, how people used to live. Early man followed the animals. There are some folks that still live pretty much the way they've lived for thousands of years, in mud or grass huts, even in trees."

Now what was something to consider. "Do you do that?"

Buck looked sad for a moment. "No, I went into the military. I wanted to go to college, though. Didn't have the money."

"Are you still a soldier?"

"Nope, discharged last winter." Buck lifted his chin and look out again at the view. "It's good to be home again."

Blair didn't stop to wonder if he was prying, he just had a habit of blurting out questions when he was curious. "What are you going to do now?"

Buck flashed him a look, a mix of amusement and irritation showing around his eyes and mouth. "Don't know yet. Considering a few options."

"Like growing an orchard?"

"Maybe." He stood up, brushing himself off absentmindedly. "We'd better head back."

Blair followed the man back down to the canyon floor, slipping in the loose rocks. Once they arrived at the bottom and started following the trail again, Buck started talking. "There are a few things you need to know when walking in the desert. You already know about ticks."

Another shudder wracked Blair's body. Was this some sort of new reflex? Every time he heard the word, was he going to creep out? Blair couldn't help it. The memory of Buck finding those black, flat bugs all over his arms and legs - and other places he didn't want to think about - made his scalp tingle. "Vividly, man."

"Good," Buck said. "Just get into the habit of checking yourself each day. They like to get into your hair, and you've got a lot of that, kid. Other things to avoid are snakes. We've got rattlers out here. Never put any part of your body on or under anything you can't see. Don't step over large objects until you know for sure a snake isn't coiled up on the far side. Those critters are not out to bite you, but if you startle them, they will. Got it?"

Blair nodded.

"And remember if you kick over rocks, they're might be spiders or scorpions underneath. So be ready. My theory is to travel without disrupting. The only things you should leave behind are your footsteps. Don't tear up the landscape. That's why we stayed on the path while riding the dirt bike. I don't cotton to adding to the erosion problems. Clear?"

"Am I gonna get to ride the bike?" Blair asked, excited with the concept.

"Weell, you're gonna need to grow a bit." Buck rubbed his jaw as he glanced down at the boy walking by his side. The trail widened as they neared the area they'd left the bike. "If you've a mind to come back and visit on a regular basis..."

The grin on Blair's face refused to go away. The prospect of returning to Dry Falls didn't seem half as bad as he'd have thought. "Cool."

Jim dialed the number for Blair's cell. No answer. He wasn't too surprised. More than likely, it was sitting somewhere in the guest bedroom at Buck's house. Blair had a habit of turning it off whenever he visited Buck. Said it was like being on vacation and he didn't like the interruptions. The Expedition took the winding road without a problem. Jim had dropped the speed down, in respect for the corners. The darkness around him failed to hide the beauty of the mountain pass on each side. The road was wet from recent rain and Jim added that reason to his reduced speed. At this elevation, the chance of ice on the road was high.

Slipping the phone back into his jacket pocket, Jim gripped the wheel firmly with both hands. He glanced at the digital readout on the dashboard, an hour into the trip. He was making good time. He'd head directly for the hospital. Hopefully they'd still be there.

Blair insisted Buck needed a blanket. Rummaging around under a small cabinet against the wall, he found a ridiculously light cotton blanket and covered the older man. They were still waiting for the test results. Occasionally a nurse would pop in to check the cardiac readout, then leave. Other patients had arrived; two men from a motor vehicle accident and a small child with a bad case of croup.

"You know, we should talk about a few things," Buck murmured, his eyes closed.

Blair leaned forward, perched on the same stool. He'd thought about finding a chair, but didn't want to leave Buck alone even for a few seconds. "What about?"

"You know Eugene was my last blood relative, right?" Buck opened his eyes, studying Blair with a slight frown.

"Yeah." Blair nodded.

"So, I don't have anyone to leave Dry Falls to when I'm gone."

A wave of panic rose, consuming Blair's entire being, like a tsunami. "Please, don't talk like that, Uncle Buck!" he hissed, his words tumbling out, tripping over each other. "You said yo-."

"Calm down," Buck ordered, his frown line deepening. He relaxed his face and offered a crooked smile. "I guess I should have expected that. I'm not planning on going anywhere."

"Damn straight." Blair pointed a finger. "You made a promise."

That caused Buck to release an exasperated huff of annoyance. "Like you'd ever let me forget. Now, quit interrupting. What I'm trying to say is, I have a will drawn up. You already have the combination to my fire safe, a copy's inside. The attorney's name and address at the bottom. You're my choice, kid. I want you to have Dry Falls if anything ever does happen to me."

Blair's throat felt tight. He couldn't push a sound out of his mouth if his life depended upon it. Squeezing Buck's arm with both hands, he closed his eyes. The thought of Dry Falls without a Buck Stevens to share it with scared him.

"Hopefully it will be a long time from now," Buck went on to explain softly, seeming to know how his words were tearing Blair's heart out of his chest. "And the orchard will be making a nice profit for you by then. You can hire someone to manage it. You don't have to live there if you don't want to. Knowing you and Jim, you'll still be playing Batman and Robin in Cascade."

Blair snorted, eyes still closed, like he could block out the fact someday Buck would reach the end of his lifespan.

"I guess I'm saying... well, you're my family." Buck reached over with his free hand and squeezed one of Blair's wrists. "Have to admit, I had no idea when you first blew into my quiet life that you'd be like a real son, but you are, runt."

"How much longer?" Blair asked.

Buck didn't look up from his small notepad. The two of them were standing in the middle of nowhere. Blair clutched a tall stick, twice his own height. He tried not to ask the question again, even though it appeared the man standing next to him wasn't feeling like answering. Blair was learning. Just because Buck didn't respond right away didn't mean he wouldn't eventually. Blair let his eyes roam the landscape, awash with golden effects of a new sunrise. They weren't in the canyons and Blair was surprised to find he missed them. They were up on top of the plateau, north of Dry Falls. The land was flat and boring.

Last night, after they'd finished the bike ride, Buck had hauled a twin bed frame out from the upper loft of the barn. Blair helped clean it with wood soap and put it together. They boxed up Eugene's stuff and Buck stored it in the attic. The mattress came next. Also stored in the barn, it had been carefully wrapped in plastic. The result of their work transformed the room to a real bedroom, with a cool desk for Blair to use.

Afterwards, the phone rang. Buck answered, then told Blair he'd be out in the barn. Blair had followed after spending a pleasant hour arranging his room just the way he wanted it and found Buck organizing a pile of odd stuff, of which included the tall stick Blair currently held in his hand, a few wooden boxes and a long tripod, similar to what a camera sits on. They had woken up early and driven north. The last several had involved a lot of hiking and standing around.

"We'll quit before it gets too hot." Buck took out a small compass and sighted over its hinged top.

"We've already gone over this spot once, why are we doing it again?" Blair asked.

"Because." Buck checked his small notebook and bent down to peer through a spotting scope on the tripod.

"'Sides, we don't have to do the entire thing in one day," Blair pointed out, as reasonable as he could be. His feet were already hot and sore.

"We're not. This'll take a few days at best."

"Well, if we didn't have to do things twice..." Blair's protest fled in fear as Buck looked hard at him. "I'm just saying..." he whispered, not willing to give up the issue, yet secretly wishing he'd kept his mouth shut.

"Runt, we can do this right or do it over," Buck explained. "Now, I'm not of a mind to start a task, then do a poor job because it's not fun. When a man commits to a goal, he does his best to finish it. Otherwise, his word is worthless. Got that?"

Blair nodded. Buck wasn't really yelling or even scolding, just talking adult to adult. Blair liked that.

"Walk that away a bit." The man's attention was back on the compass again. "I'll holler at you when I want you to stop. Watch for my hand signals."

Blair did as told. He walked carefully among the low brush, kept his tennis shoes from knocking over any rocks and watched for snakes. The temperature wasn't that uncomfortable, but promised to get there soon. There wasn't even a hint of clouds above. One thing about getting up early each day, Blair wasn't having any problems going to sleep at night.

"Hold up!" the faint cry ordered.

Blair turned and held the stick perfectly still, as straight up and down as he could. Actually, Blair was working, for real money. Blair's chest swelled with pride. They were surveyors, at least Buck was anyway. Blair was the assistant. Buck raised his right hand and Blair took small steps to his left until the hand dropped. He made sure the stick lined up perfectly in front of his nose, like Buck had explained.

After another hour and a half of walking and doing the same exercise over and over, Buck called a halt. They walked back to the truck together.

"Did you go to public school in Florida?" Buck asked out of the blue.

"Not in Florida," Blair answered. "I've been to some public schools. They're boring. In Florida, I went to a home school. It was really great." Blair's mood darkened briefly. "That's why I didn't wanna leave. Naomi promised me we would stay until that semester was finished. Instead we left right in the middle."

Buck glanced over. "Tough break."

"Yeah," Blair agreed moodily, forgetting his instructions and kicking a rock.

"What grade were you in?"

"Dunno. I think I'm kinda high though. But Naomi doesn't like measuring standards, so she doesn't tell me." Blair tried not to sound too boastful. He knew he tested high, real high. There was still tons of stuff he wanted to know, but they moved around so much, it was hard finding teachers to help him. Public schools treated him like a temporary guest, as if he wasn't staying long enough to be bothered with and private schools cost big bucks, which was why the Florida school had been so neat.

"There's a library in Moses Lake," Buck said as they reached the truck and he started to stow the gear in the open bed. He reached for the stuff Blair carried and took it from him. "We can check it out next week. I'm sure we'll find textbooks that you can work on to keep your schooling up while you're staying in Dry Falls."

"Really?" Blair loved libraries. "Awesome!"

During the drive back, Buck pulled into a parking lot next to a small diner. "What do you say to spending some of our hard earned cash on some milkshakes?"

"Ah, well..." Blair wished he'd brought his money. He'd left it back at Buck's house.

Buck seemed to read his mind. "I'll advance you today's wage, then deduct it from when we both get paid. Deal?"

"Sure!" Blair scrambled out of the cab, beating Buck to the glass door by several steps.

Even though it was only eleven in the morning, the diner was busy. A long counter ran the length of the room, with red stools that swiveled. Booths filled with vacationing families and local folks lined the exterior walls. The large windows were protected by tinted shades of plastic that pulled down from rollers overhead. Buck pointed to the counter where two empty seats waited. A handmade sign announced to those in the room that the blackberry milkshakes were homemade and the best in the state of Washington.

Buck slid a ten dollar bill across the counter top. Blair blinked in wonder. Ten dollars for just holding a stick?

"What'll ya have, Buck?" an older redhead with narrow reading glasses half way down her nose asked. She sat two glasses of ice water in front of them.

Blair pointed at the sign and Buck nodded, taking off his straw hat and using a blue bandana to carefully wipe the dust and sweat from his forehead. "Two blackberry shakes to go, Louise."

"Coming up." She scribbled a quick note and tore off the top sheet of paper from her order pad.

They sat for a few minutes in companionable silence. The waitress filled ice tea glasses and delivered plates of food from the kitchen as the cook placed them on the window's ledge. Blair sipped the water and watched a family of four, two parents and two boys about his own age sitting in a corner booth. The father caught the boy at his side in a playful headlock, in punishment for some swiped french-fries from the man's plate. Blair turned away.

After a bit the waitress stopped in front of them again. "Welcome home, by the way. We've missed you. Did the Hernandez's take good care of the place for you?"

"They did," Buck answered. "Heard they added another kid to their clan this year."

"Yep," she answered, stepping away to deliver another order to a pass-through window before stepping back. The cook, a heavy man with a toothy grin was working hard. "They've bought a small farm down in Yakima. So... when are you going to settle down and raise a family?" She eyed Blair with an arched brow.

"This is Blair Sandburg," Buck introduced smoothly, ignoring her last question. "He's staying with me this summer. Son of Eugene's girlfriend."

"So you've become an honorary uncle?" She grinned, thrusting out her hand to shake Blair's hand.

Blair started to reach over the counter but saw the conditions of his own hands. "Ah, I think I'd better wash up, ma'am."

She laughed. "I can see that. The restroom's around the outside."

"Our shakes will be ready by the time you're done," Buck guessed. "I'll meet you at the truck." When Blair reached into his pocket for his new ten dollar bill, Buck raised a hand. "I'll get this one. You buy tomorrow's."

Blair grinned. "Deal."

The heat hit Blair as soon as he opened the door. Blair looked forward to splashing cold water on his face. His bandage was pretty dirty, getting it wet wasn't a problem. Buck would be putting a new one on anyway. Rounding the far corner, he saw the door for the single bathroom by the swamp cooler connected to the building. Blair slipped in, used the john and carefully washed his hands. The paper towels were stiff like sandpaper but he didn't care. He tore a long sheet off and soaked it before leaning over the sink to wring it out over the back of his neck. His skin hurt there. He was getting sunburned, just like Buck had warned. Maybe Blair would wear the hat again.

After splashing several handfuls of water on his face and drying off, Blair left the restroom, flipping off the switch. Just as he turned, another customer arrived. Blair stepped to his right, attempting to slip between the person and the restaurant's back wall.

The person, an adult man, stepped to his left and blocked him.

Blair sniggered. It was funny when this happened. "'Scuse me." The man did the same thing when Blair dodged left. The smile on Blair's face evaporated as the man grabbed his arm. "Hey!" Blair looked up. It was the guy from Florida, with the bony wrists. "Oh, hey."

"You wanted a ride back to Florida, kid?" the man asked.

Two days ago, Blair would have jumped at the chance. But now Blair wasn't so eager. "Nah, I changed my mind."

"Where's your mom?"

A hint of panic started to tug at Blair's insides, low in his gut. Blair tried to twist his arm out of the man's hold. "I don't know." The man was strong. Blair now knew how the gazelle felt in a lion's mouth.

"You trying to tell me she'd leave you behind?" he snarled. "Do I look stupid?"

"Hey, she's gonna be back. Leave me your number and I'll have her call," Blair retorted with false bravado. It was hard to act tough when your knees had all the strength of cotton candy. The situation was starting to really scare him. How far away was Buck? Was he still inside or waiting by the truck?

"Come on." The man jerked him in the opposite direction causing his tennis shoes to lose traction on the asphalt.

Blair saw the blue car was parked close by. Fear squeezed all the breath from his lungs. "Let me go!" With a yank that threatened to pull his arm out of his shoulder socket, Blair found himself lifted off the ground and tucked under a beefy arm. His cry for help ended when a broad palm slapped over his mouth, covering the entire bottom half of his face. Blair wiggled, kicking empty air. He beat fists against every part of the man's body that he could reach. It was like hitting padded concrete. The man's long legs ate up the ground. They arrived at the blue car in seconds. Blair's chance for escape was null to nothing.

"Get your hands off him."

The kidnapper froze, turning slowly, which allowed Blair to see Buck standing a few feet away. The three of them were sheltered from potential eyewitness's view by the building, the swamp cooler and a tall fenced in dumpster. Buck stood balanced, feet apart and arms held away from his body. Blair was reminded of a large mountain lion, tensing for a mighty spring. As thrilled as he was to see Buck, Blair was terrified his interference might get him hurt.

"Put him down... now," Buck ordered; his voice hard and soft at the same time.

Blair was lowered to the ground, but held fast, prevented from escaping to Buck's side. Before Blair could pull off the hand which still covered his mouth, the second man stepped around the building's corner, approaching Buck from behind. The gun in the newcomer's hand caused Blair's eyes to widen. Buck turned, seeing the odds had just been tipped away from the good guy's balance.

"This is what we're all going to do," the gunman said in a pleasant tone, as if suggesting plans for a nice BBQ. "We're taking the kid. We'll follow you in your truck back to your place. Then the three of us are going to have a nice talk about your brother. Understand?"

"No, he stays with me," Buck stated calmly.

"You don't have an option, cowboy," the shorter man holding the gun answered.

Buck parked the truck in front of his house and got out. He'd spent more than half the drive with his eyes on the rearview mirror, doing his best to keep watch over Blair. The sunlight reflected off the following car's windshield, making it hard to see in. Blair had been wedged between the two men sitting in the front seat. Now the taller man climbed out of the car, dragging the boy by the arm, a gun in his other hand. Blair looked terrified and Buck wanted to sink his fist into the man's face.

The driver climbed out, still holding his gun, and pointed to the house. "You got any guns in there?"

"A shotgun," Buck answered honestly. He'd left it propped in a corner in his room. Even a cursory search would find it.

"Let's get it." The man waved a hand. "Bring the kid, Dale. If this guy makes a move, shoot the brat."

Dale nodded, keeping Blair's thin arm in a bruising hold that lifted the kid off his feet until just his toes scrambled for purchase. Blair's lower lip was trapped between his teeth, his face scrunched in pain. Buck clenched his hands into tight fists as he led the way.

They searched the house, found the shotgun and removed the cartridges. Buck watched as the shorter man carried it outside and locked it in their car. Dale still had Blair in his grasp, the handgun pointed at the boy's curly hair. Buck stood in the middle of the living room, waiting to see what these two planned to do next. Blair was his first priority. He needed to somehow get the kid out of there.

"We told you the other day, we want your brother," the driver said.

"And I answered you. He's not here."

The man crossed the room in angry strides. "Keep your gun on him, Dale," he ordered, tucking his own gun in his waistband before wrenching Blair out of the man's hand.

Blair yelped in pain as the man's hand sunk into the curly mop of hair.

"What are you doing, Nathan?" Dale asked, licking his lips as he frowned. "We agreed not to-"

"Shut up!" Nathan answered. He bent Blair's head back, forcing the boy to look up at him. "Where's that whore-mother of yours, kid?" He raised a fist, aiming for Blair's face.

Blair's eyes widened, yet he closed his mouth. His jaw stuck out in defiance even as he cringed with expectancy.

"She's going to call," Buck lied, keeping his voice steady. "They said they'd call to check in."

"When?" Nathan yelled, dropping his fist and giving the hostage in his hands a hard shake. Blair bit off a strangled sound of pain, one hand reaching and clasping the wrist sunk into his hair. The man reacted by shoving Blair hard as he continued to rant. "That worthless sack of shit has my money! I want it back!" He raised his gun, aiming it at Blair as the boy lay sprawled on the floor still rubbing his head.

"They're calling tonight," Buck promised, lifting a hand.

Dale shifted his weight from one foot back to the other. "Come on, Nat. We're in enough trouble. Murdering a kid isn't going to get that money back."

Nathan's face was still red with anger, but his eyes were flat and hard as he pulled the trigger. The sharp concussion buffeted Buck's eardrums, making him wince. Two inches from Blair's head, the bullet dug into the wooden floorboard before ricocheting into the thick exterior kitchen wall. Buck had to admit, the kid had guts. He curled into a tight ball and stayed still. The silence following the gunshot was heavy with threat.

"We'll wait. Either of you try anything and we'll kill the other one," Nathan promised. "Dale, watch them. I'm going to find something to eat."

With Dale's urging to move, Buck scooped Blair up into his arms and carried him to the sofa. The kid was trembling as if he'd been lying on a snow bank for hours, his breathing broken with short sobs. Buck sank into the cushions, ignoring their jailer. The cotton lap robe still sat folded neatly on the sofa's arm. Buck reached over, snatching and flicking the folds out, then tucked it carefully around the boy, knowing sometimes a physical barrier helped people in shock.

"Hey, runt," Buck whispered. Blair didn't respond. "Look at me."

If anything, Blair curled into a tighter ball.

Buck kept his voice low, a mere whisper, that wouldn't carry across to the man now sitting in the rocker. "I'm not going to let them hurt you, Blair. Understand? You're going to be okay." Buck was relieved to feel a few muscles relax. "I know it looks scary, but we have to keep our wits together. We'll beat these two clowns. Okay?"

Blair lifted his head, turning his face into Buck's shirt as he sniffed back his emotions.

Buck tightened his hold. They had a long wait ahead of them. How long could he stall this head case? Dale seemed reasonable, but the other bordered on homicidal. Things were not looking good for them. When the chance to escape hit, he needed to have Blair alert and ready to run. He looked up at Dale, finding the man's attention on the archway leading into the kitchen.

Blair continued to unwind, both physically and emotionally. Small hands timidly grasped Buck's shirt and held on. Buck looked down to see Blair looking back up at him, face shielded from view by the blanket from all but Buck. "You know w-what?" Blair whispered.

"What?" Buck answered softly.

Blair's cheeks were wet, his eyelashes still matted with moisture, but his eyes looked clear and intelligent. "You're like so lucky I went to the bathroom before they grabbed me."

Buck's chest jumped with silent laughter, gently bouncing Blair who snickered back up at him. Yeah, this kid had the stuff.

"Gastric Reflux?" Buck said doubtfully. "Never heard of it."

The doctor nodded his head as he scribbled on a prescription pad. "I'm referring you to a doctor that specializes in gastroenterology. You can try treating this with drugs or diet. Sometimes surgery is recommended. I suspect they'll want to send a scope down into your stomach."

Buck closed his eyes with a groan as he continued to button up his shirt. Wonderful, something to look forward to. He felt pretty good, actually; nothing like when that pain had first woke him from a sound sleep hours ago. He glanced at his watch. The sun would be up in a bit. He'd wasted enough time in this `quack land.'

"Uncle Buck..."

Buck looked over at Blair. "What?"

"I know that look, man. You do it every time you say you're going to do something, but you're not going to." Blair shook his head gently admonishing. "You're going to see this doctor."

"I am?"

"You are."

The ER doctor laughed, ripping off the top paper and handing it to Blair. "I'm going to let your nephew safeguard this for you, Mr. Stevens." He stood up. "Make sure you see the nurse before leaving."

Buck nodded, then squinted at his `nephew'.

Blair didn't back down a sixteenth of an inch. He leaned forward, a goofy, relieved grin hiding behind his serious demeanor. "You are."

Jim's cell phone rang as he entered the outskirts of Moses Lake. He'd made good time. The patron saint of city cops must be looking out for him, or had one up on the patron saint of state troopers, because Jim never once saw one blue light in his rearview mirror.

"Ellison."

"Jim!"

Blair's voice was happy and Jim's spine sagged into the back cushion of his seat. He closed his eyes and sighed. "Yeah, Chief?"

"It's totally not his heart, man. You called it. He's got to see a stomach doctor."

Jim could hear Buck arguing in the background and Blair making shushing noises at him. Jim had to grin. It was so easy to picture the two of them. "Great news."

"Yeah, ain't it?" Blair was drunk with delight. "I knew you'd want to know ASAP, man. So I called you first. How's the stakeout?"

"We caught him. It's all over," Jim said, spotting the exit with the blue sign ahead. A single white letter `H' on the sign caused Jim to activate his turn signal.

Blair sat next to Buck on the sofa, the green blanket still around his shoulders. He wasn't sure why he wanted the blanket. It wasn't as if the house was cold. Still, it kept him from freaking. So did the warm presence of the man he was currently pressed up against. At first, Blair had been embarrassed to find himself curled up in Buck's lap. The last thing he'd remembered was hitting the floor and hearing that gun go off.

Blair had never been so terrified in his whole life.

Then the fear had been replaced with a deep feeling of safety. Blair had never felt that safe before, it was hard to understand.

The shorter guy walked into the living room holding a sandwich in one hand and a beer can in the other. His gun was still tucked into his waistband. Blair remembered the guy's name, Nathan. Dale still sat in the rocker.

"What time are they calling?" Nathan demanded.

Buck answered, which was good, because Blair didn't know Naomi was going to call today. Normally she waited longer before calling. Long distance calls cost big money. "Anytime after five tonight."

"Shit." Nathan looked down at his watch.

"When do I eat?" Dale asked grumpily eyeing the beer.

"Go." Nathan jerked his head toward the kitchen. He set his beer down and pulled out his gun. "I'll take over." Sitting down in the now empty rocker, he eyed Blair. "You cold? What's with the blanket?"

Blair shrugged, he felt the arm around his shoulders tighten comfortingly.

"Look, I'm not out to hurt you," Nathan grumbled around his mouthful of sandwich. He swallowed. "I need that money or I'm a dead man. Eugene wasn't supposed to disappear. He promised a quick return on that money. I can't wait."

"Let me guess, it wasn't yours to invest," Buck stated. "How much are we talking about?"

"Ten thousand," the gunman answered. He was starting to look mad again, his face getting dark. "I've got less than a week to get it back."

Buck snorted. "You loaned money for starting some new age retreat and expected a quick turn around? Are you always this daring with investments?"

Nathan slammed his forearm down on the rocker's arm; a glob of mayonnaise flew off the sandwich in his hand and landed on the braided rug. "It was for upfront expenses! He was supposed to have some rich investors ready to drop over a million down on the spot!"

"I see," Buck answered. "Sounds like you're in a pickle. What makes you think he still has the money?"

"He'd better. Or he's got a dead brother. And his bitch has a dead kid."

"Now that makes a lot of sense," Buck continued. "My brother inherits the land after I'm gone. What makes you think he cares if you kill me?"

"What about him?"

Blair snorted. "The Jerk hates me, man. He'll be dancing at my funeral."

Before Nathan could reply, Buck spoke. "Let's do this another way. When they call tonight, I'll tell them the kid is sick. Naomi will want to come back then. She'll have Eugene drive her."

Nathan looked thoughtful for a moment. "Could work. Why are you helping me?"

Dale wandered back into the room, his own sandwich and beer in hand. He'd obviously been listening to their conversation. Blair was just as curious. Why did Buck want to help these two guys? Didn't he care that his own brother might be in danger? They had guns, for crying out loud.

"Sooner you get what you want, the sooner you're out of here," Buck said with a cold look.

"True." Nathan stood. "If we've got hours to wait, I'm going to grab some sleep." But he didn't leave; instead, he seemed to study his two prisoners.

Blair tried not to move, not to breathe. The guy was making some decision and Blair had a feeling the outcome was not going to be good.

"I'll take the kid with me," Nathan announced. "Find something to tie them both up, Dale."

"He stays with me," Buck said.

"You know what?" Nathan held the gun high as if Buck had forgotten about it. Tilting his head, he curled his lips back to an ugly snarl. "I'm getting fed up with you saying that! I don't trust you. If the brat's with me, I think you'll behave yourself." He extended his gun arm, aiming at Buck's head. "I don't need you. I can still use the kid to bring them back."

Blair pushed away from the security next to him, standing. "I'll go, man. No big deal."

Dale appeared holding a roll of duct tape and Blair's wrists were secured together in front of his body, then he was pushed over to stand by Nathan while Dale did the same to Buck's wrists. He even went on to tape Buck's ankles together. Buck didn't say another word during the process. Blair swallowed hard as a large hand clamped the back of his neck and he was propelled out of the room.

Once inside the back bedroom, Blair was shoved into a closet and he hit some tall boxes stacked against one wall. The door slammed shut. He could hear something heavy being dragged across the floor and assumed the dresser was being moved to block the closet door. Blair slid down the wall to sit on the floor. Clothes swung in the darkness overhead, disturbed by his arrival. Shoes and boots cluttered the floor and Blair kicked them away. He tested his bonds. Dale had taken several turns around his wrists. Blair raised his hands to his face. It was weird, like being blind. Using his tongue to guide him, he located the end of the tape and started to gnaw the end away to pull off the tape.

Buck listened carefully, unable to hear any sounds coming from his bedroom. His gut churned at the thoughts of what could happen. If either of these guys so much as...

What? Buck was trussed up like a calf in a roping contest. He had about as much ability to stop Blair from being abused as a snowball lasting in hell.

"Relax," Dale ordered. "We've been up all night staking your place out. Nathan's just sleeping."

"How'd you end up with this guy? He's a loose cannon," Buck commented dryly.

"We work together," Dale answered with a sigh. "He's supposed to be showing me the ropes."

"Some ropes. I think he's showing you how to end up dead. Sounds like you're mixed up with some heavy hitters. I'm guessing some of those drug bosses out of Miami?"

"Shut up."

"Untie me and leave." Buck leaned forward. "I'll clean up this mess and the cops will never know your name."

"It ain't the cops that worry me, cowboy."

Buck shut up. He wasn't getting anywhere with this joker. He'd have to wait for another chance. Damn, he wished they hadn't thought to tie them up. He should have tried something before. But there hadn't been an opportunity. Buck had no problems taking risks. That was his life as a Navy SEAL. He led his entire squad on risky missions. But this was different. Not only did he have a civilian to worry over; he had a civilian kid.

Buck let time pass, keeping silent and watchful. For all of Dale's lack of experience, he knew enough to keep awake. Once in a while, he'd return to the kitchen for more food or more to drink. Buck wished he'd kept more beer on hand, instead of just a few bottles. Drunken kidnappers were easier to take out.

Three hours later, Nathan called out from the bedroom. Buck sat up with a start. He'd been lightly dozing on the sofa, sort of a relaxed meditation while he considered his options. They were few.

"What's wrong?" Dale answered.

Nathan appeared, glaring hard at Buck. "He's gone!"

"Who? The kid?" Dale stood up. "Impossible! He never came through here. There's no other way except out the bedroom window."

"I've looked everywhere, you idiot!" the enraged gunman said. "He's not in that bedroom. The window's still locked from inside. He had to come through here!"

"No!" Dale pointed the gun at Buck. "You tell him! Tell him I'm right."

Still amazed, Buck didn't answer. How'd the kid managed to slip out? Then he realized what had happened. It was the only option. Blair must have been tossed into the bedroom closet. God, that kid was full of surprises.

The two thugs still argued, shouting denials back and forth.

Finally the leader held up both hands. "Whatever! Just shut up and let me think a second." He paced the room, his gaze finally resting on the phone. He glanced at his watch and cursed.

"We should call Miami," Dale suggested.

"I know!" With another curse, Nathan snatched up the phone. He frowned as he held it to his ear and tapped the plungers a few times. "Line's dead."

Buck hid a smile. Blair strikes again. Hopefully the kid was well on his way to getting help.

"We're out of here," Nathan ordered, pointing to Buck. "Bring him. We'll find a way to tell Eugene we have his brother. Even if we have to mail body parts, we're getting that money back!"

Using a kitchen knife, Dale sawed the tape from Buck's ankles and pulled him to his feet. Nathan stood at the open door, peering out into the bright sun soaked yard as if expecting Blair to materialize. Buck was pushed toward the doorway. Circulation had been interrupted too long and he staggered, then found his balance and managed to walk unassisted across the porch. Both the truck and car were where they had been left. Not that Buck had expected Blair to drive off in either. Surely the kid was on foot or had he taken the dirt bike? Did he even know how to ride?

"Move it." Nathan pushed Buck forward.

Buck took the stairs first, leaving the protection of the porch roof and squinting into the bright sunshine. A sound came from behind him, high overhead. Buck immediately tensed, knowing suddenly that Blair hadn't left. The little shit was going to... oh, crap.

When he heard a thud and an outraged bellow of pain, Buck knew it was time to act. He pivoted on his heel and barreled back up the steps. Dale was down, both hands covering his face as he writhed in pain. Buck ignored him for now. Dodging the still swinging garden hoe, held by the twelve year-old perched on the porch roof, Buck slammed into Nathan before the man could pull the trigger. The gun had been pointed directly overhead, sure to hit the person responsible for the attack.

Both men went down hard, falling against the wooden screen door with enough force to splinter the frame and knock through the screen. Apparently, Nathan's skills didn't include hand to hand. Fortunately, the Navy insisted their SEALs know it, even when both hands were bound. Buck swung hard with both fists, catching the gunman across the throat. The second blow smashed his nose and ended the fight.

Buck wrenched the gun from the lax fingers and rose up on one knee to cover Dale. There was no need; Dale's forehead had taken the back side of the metal blade of `Old Guss' hard, sending him into unconsciousness. Looking up, Buck could see Blair's head and shoulders as the boy leaned out over the porch roof.

"Wow!" Blair said with awe. "It really worked."

"So, you found the attic access, did you?" Buck asked. Standing directly under the edge, he tucked the gun his pants and lifted his bound arms high. "Climb down."

"I had to break that vent on the back side to get out, though." Blair scrambled down, using Buck as a ladder. "You okay, Mr. Stevens?"

"How about you getting me a kitchen knife? And bring that roll of duct tape." Buck pointed down at the gunmen. "We should get these guys to the sheriff's office while they're still breathing, seeing how we don't have a phone anymore."

"Well, I could reconnect the phone if you want." Blair looked down at the men. "Then we can call the cops and they can take them to the hospital, right?"

Buck laughed softly. "Kid, I think you'd better start calling me Uncle Buck. Think you can do that?"

The smile on the kid's face could have melted the top of Mount Rainier. "Sure."

Blair walked happily at Buck's side as they left the emergency room. The coolness of the predawn air refreshed his skin and his spirits. God, he'd been so freaked. Buck still had a follow up appointment about this reflux thing, but that didn't have the same horror associated with it as the words `heart condition.'

"Any clue on how we're getting back to Dry Falls?" Buck asked with a single raised eyebrow.

"Oops." Blair rose up on the balls of both feet, offering his best goofy grin. "Guess what I forgot?"

"You two caught without a ride?"

"Jim!" Blair's head twisted, his brain refusing to believe what his eyes were seeing. "What? How'd...?"

Buck laughed. "Good one, Ellison. I don't get to see him like this very often." He reached out to capture Jim's extended hand. "What are you doing over here? Blair said you were working."

Jim tilted his head back, imperiously peering down at Blair. "I already snagged the suspect - well, helped snag - so I thought I'd drive by and see how you were doing. Looks like you could use a lift." His face cracked into a wide grin. "I'm glad you're okay, Buck. Simon says `hey'."

"Hey, back at him," Buck answered.

Blair was still sputtering. Jim had been driving all night. Because...

Blair shook his head, curls slapping his cheeks. "Jim, let me get this straight, man. You caught the killer? And then drove here. How? I mean, what about the stuff that comes after the arrest? You should be-."

"It's okay, Sandburg." Jim pointed to his nose. "I led the team to him. They made the arrest. Actually, you had a hand in bringing him in."

"I did?"

"You did." Jim slapped his hands together, rubbing them briskly. "So, both of you ready to head home? I'm thinking some early morning fishing." He tilted his head. "That is, if I can borrow some gear."

"How about breakfast first?" Buck patted his stomach. "I've got a craving for a jalapeno omelet."

"Okay." Jim waved a hand toward the parking lot. "After you."

"What?" Blair sputtered anew. "No way, Uncle Buck. No more peppers until you see that doctor."

They walked toward the parking lot, Blair on one side of Buck, Jim walking on the other. Buck scratched the back of his head in thought. "Do I have to remind you of the first rule again, runt?"

"Oh, no, you don't!" Blair's voice rose and cracked. "I'm changing that rule, man! New rule, okay? Doctor's orders come first! Come on, Jim. You gotta help me with this. Right? Right?"

Buck laughed and Blair didn't see the way he nudged Jim's ribs with his elbow.

"Come on, Chief. Buck is an adult. If he wants a few jalapenos..."

"Listen, you two!" Blair jogged in front and walked backwards so as to face them. "I'm serious here. You didn't see the kind of pain Buck was in, Jim." Blair saw the identical smirks on the men's faces and he realized he was being had. "Oh, fine. I get it! You both think this is funny? I'm an emotional wreck here and you're pulling my chain. That's just harsh. Do I have to get `Old Guss'?"

Blair tried not to join in with the hard laughter his remark caused.

"So, we're all in agreement? No peppers?" Blair hit Buck with his best `I want' look.

Buck groaned, his mirth reduced to chuckles. "God, I'm becoming such a softie."

"That's the Navy for you, first to sink," Jim teased.

Buck shot him a dour look. "Listen, Army Grunt."

"Yeah?" Jim answered.

"There's a reason the Army was looking for a few good men. They all joined the Navy."

"That so?" Jim answered unlocking the Expedition.

"Here we go again," Blair muttered to the first streaks of light above their heads. "Look, guys. If I buy breakfast, can we end this argument before it starts?"

Both men smiled and Blair knew he'd been had, again.

end.

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