Blair Sandburg climbed the last step to the third floor of the taxpayer building he lived in with his friend, Jim Ellison. The temperature in the stairwell was only a few degrees warmer then outside. The September nights were becoming cold, so cold that Blair had started wearing his heavier coat.

Where had the summer gone?

Blair was late. He'd made a quick stop on the drive home from the university to get an estimate on fixing his car's heater. For some reason, it stopped working last March. In his usual manner of procrastination, he'd waited until now to see about getting it repaired.

Blair knew Jim was already home. Jim's truck was parked in its regular stall. Blair mentally prepared himself for Ellison lecture number forty-six, `Managing your time better'. It would be followed promptly with number seventy-two, `Keeping your commitments'. Blair smiled to himself as he walked down the hallway. He didn't mind, much. He'd learned to chalk it up to paying his dues. Living with a Sentinel, a person with all five senses enhanced, was worth the occasional aggravation. Pulling out his keys, Blair unlocked the door.

"Hey, Jim, I know I'm late. Give me just a sec to get dinner started," he said, heading for his room to toss his backpack onto his bed.

"I thought we'd eat out, Sandburg. We've got company," Jim answered from the living room.

A guest? Blair turned to see who was visiting. It had to be someone special for Jim to suggest dinner out.

"Uncle Buck!" Blair exclaimed, seeing the older man with salt and pepper hair standing beside Jim. Buck's tan face broke into a smile as Blair dropped his pack on the floor in his haste to greet him.

"Hey, runt. You staying out of trouble?" Buck asked as he caught Blair in a bear hug.

"As if!" Blair said happily, releasing the older man. "Jim works me too hard to even get close. What are you doing here! This is so cool! How long are you staying? Oh, you've got to see my office, man. And maybe the station. Jim! We gotta call Simon---"

"Sandburg, if you'd shut up a second, someone could get a word in. Simon is waiting for us at Mugsy's." Jim made a show of checking his watch. "I'm giving you five minutes."

After a quick change from jeans and flannel to, well, nicer jeans and flannel, Blair emerged from his small bedroom, still in the progress of finger combing his long, wavy brown hair back into a neat pony tail.

Mugsy's Bar and Grill was a favorite hang out for off-duty police officers and firemen. Sports banners and full size posters of quarterbacks decorated the walls. The place had a comfortable, homey feel that gave the patrons cause to relax after a hard shift.

One of the reasons for its popularity was the `no reference to work rule' enforced by its owner, a retired fireman. Discussions could be about any type of sport or recreation, but no shop-talk. If anyone broke the rule, a dollar bill was surrendered by the offender and stabbed into the high ceiling overhead by a fork. Of course, the ceiling was covered with forks and dollar bills. At the end of the year, the money was donated to the hospital's burn ward.

At a corner table Blair could see Simon, Rafe and Brown already enjoying a glass of beer. It was a rowdy reunion while they ordered their sandwiches. Blair reached for the bowl of popcorn and waited for Buck to finish telling the group how his orchard business was doing.

"So what brings you to Cascade, Buck?" Brown asked.

"I was in Seattle looking over a new shipment of backhoes and though I'd drive up to see how Blair's doing. I've got a proposition for a long weekend if he's available, Jim too," Buck said with an air of mystery.

"Does this involve `water rights' issues?" Simon teased.

"Nope, this is just a harmless weekend in North Idaho doing a little building and a lot of fishing, if we're lucky," Buck answered. "Actually, all of you are invited, if you're willing to work for your keep."

"What kind of work?" Blair asked.

"A friend of mine is starting a campground. He needs help getting it ready before the snow hits. Hopefully he can get some hunters booked and pull in money to tide him over to next year," Buck explained to the group.

"Fishing?" Jim asked hopefully.

"The campground is on a decent trout stream, hasn't seen much fishing, so the fishing should be good," Buck answered.

Blair noticed Jim's face get that dreamy look whenever he read `Field and Stream'. Talk about being sold on an idea, Blair thought, Jim just took the bait, hook, line and sinker. Now all Blair had to do was finagle some time off from Rainier University.

Simon groaned loudly and rolled his eyes. "My weekends are booked for over a month! Damn it!"

Brown and Rafe painfully admitted the same thing, disappointment showing in their eyes.

"Well, I've got the vacation time," Jim said slowly, looking pointedly at his boss. "If I can get it approved, that is. Which weekend are we talking about?"

"I'd like to start a week from Thursday," Buck told them. "How about you, runt?"

"Sure!"

The waitress arrived with their dinners. Soon all the men were eating and the talk was reduced to asking for the ketchup or salt. Blair studied Buck as he ate. He looked good. His skin was dark from working outdoors. Laugh lines creased his face. Knowing that his adopted uncle seemed to enjoy the company of his best friend was a bonus. In fact, when Buck and Jim were together, they could easily be mistaken for brothers. Both men were about the same height, Buck just a few years older. Each man had served in the military, Jim as an Army Ranger and Buck as a Navy Seal.

Blair had been twelve when he first met Buck. Naomi was living with Buck's brother in eastern Washington, just north of a small town called Soap Lake. When she left to travel with her boyfriend to earn financial backing to start a business, Blair spent the summer months in Buck's care. Their relationship was rocky in the beginning, but soon developed into a close friendship.

"How's your summer been?" Buck asked Jim and Blair, wiping a bit of ketchup off his plate with his last french fry.

"Not bad," Jim answered.

Simon snorted, lifting his beer for a drink. "Sure, just had to call out the Coast Guard to find Sandburg. You know, the usual."

Buck's eyes narrowed, his gaze sweeping the men at the table and finally landing on Blair.

Blair returned the look with a nervous laugh. "It was nothing, Uncle Buck, just a little misunderstanding." He pointed up at the ceiling. "Besides, we can't talk shop. I don't have a dollar to spare at the moment."

Buck's eyes turned back to pin Jim "After dinner, then."

Jim nodded as he wiped his mouth with his napkin.

Blair dropped his eyes to the half-eaten chicken wrap on his plate, his appetite suddenly disappearing with his good mood. Trust Simon to remind everyone at the table that he wasn't able to stay out of trouble. Sure, he liked Jim's boss, even respected him, but it was bad enough being the youngest and shortest one in the group, to say nothing of the fact he was always being told he `wasn't a cop'. Why did Simon have to remind everyone that Blair couldn't take care of himself?

"How's the house? Any of those walls Rafe build fall down yet?" Henri asked, ducking a swat aimed at the back of his head by his partner.

"I seem to remember you had to be introduced to the concept of how to use a plumb line," Rafe taunted.

"Children, children, do I have to send you to separate corners?" Simon asked taking his leather cigar holder out and removing a cigar. He glanced at his watch. "Actually, Jim will have to watch you kids, it's time for me to push off. Buck, it's great seeing you again. Good luck with the orchard."

"Thanks, Simon. Stop by next time you're in my neck of the dirt, I'll take you fishing." Buck shook Simon's hand.

After Simon left, the talk turned to the Mariners and their chance for the wild card slot in the playoffs. Blair pushed his plate to one side and finished his beer. When the waitress came to collect the dishes, he waved off any refills. Jim was the designated driver for the night, but Blair couldn't afford to run up the expense. After a while both Rafe and Henri decided to call it a night and said their goodbyes. The three men made plans for the upcoming trip to North Idaho. Finally, Buck yawned and looked at his watch.

"Okay, it's time to take our guest home, Sandburg. The Navy never could hold their beer." Jim reached for the bill, only to be intercepted by Buck who snatched the paper off the table along with Blair's.

"Still faster than you, foot soldier. Dinner's my treat tonight," Buck replied sliding his chair back and standing.

"You don't have to pay, Uncle Buck," Blair said.

"Jim's letting me stay at the loft, it's the least I can do." Buck headed for the bar to pay the tab.

"At the loft? Where's he gonna sleep, man?" Blair asked Jim quietly.

"I offered my bed and said I'd take the couch, but he turned me down. Says he'll sleep on the couch," Jim answered.

"No way, I'll take the couch, he can sleep in my room," Blair countered as he rose and hitched his backpack over one shoulder.

"Fine with me, you try convincing him."

Once they were home, Blair changed the sheets on his futon and brought out extra blankets for himself.

"Here's the deal, Uncle Buck. I have an early class in the morning. So I'm gonna shower tonight and crash on the sofa. That way, when I get up, I won't be disturbing you when I leave," Blair explained.

"Okay," Buck said with a nod. "I can't fight that logic. Thanks, Blair."

Jim waited. The questions would start the moment the sound of water running in the shower reached Buck's ears. He was not wrong.

"Tell me about the incident with the Coast Guard," Buck demanded.

Jim ran a hand through his short hair. Buck knew he had enhanced senses, but they'd never talked about Blair's part in the partnership. In fact, Blair didn't even know how important he was to Jim's ability to control his senses. Maybe he should sit Blair down and explain it to him. Not that Jim understood it anymore than he could explain why he was a sentinel.

"We were staying at a marina for a few days," Jim explained, dropping down onto the sofa next to the folded blankets and pillow. "A guy from a sailboat knocked me out and kidnapped Sandburg. Simon and I found him the next day."

"Why take Blair?"

"Well, it's hard to explain..."

"Give it a shot," Buck countered.

Jim felt his hackles rise. He did not like being pushed around. But he reminded himself this man did have a valid interest in Blair's wellbeing. "I think he's a sentinel, at least he showed some signs."

"Like what you are. So, how many sentinels are there?" Buck asked.

"I'm not sure. I guess it's possible there are others out there. The thing is, this guy never got help with his senses. I think it made him a little crazy," Jim explained.

"How crazy? Did he hurt Blair?" Buck demanded.

"He knocked him around some, scared him, but that was it."

"So why Blair? Was it because he was with you?"

"Yes and no." Jim scrubbed his face with both hands, trying to figure out the best way to explain. "You need to understand what it's like for us when our senses get out of control. Everything is too loud, too strong, too rough, too bright... too much. You feel like you're going crazy. When you try going to the doctors, you get a load of crap that it's all in your head. Nothing makes sense anymore."

"But you're okay. Why's that?" Buck leaned back and studied Jim carefully.

Jim pushed off the couch, unable to sit still, and walked over to the windows to look over the water front. "It's nothing that I do. It's all Sandburg. If something's too loud, he tells me to picture a dial and dial it down, and bingo, everything is normal again."

Buck frowned. "So he shows you how to manage, what's special about that? Now you know the tricks you need to use, you're back to normal."

Jim sighed, catching a reflection of himself in the glass. He felt the need to move again. "That's what I thought. But, I've tried it when I'm alone. I can manage enough for the basics. But it's all I can do not to zone. Something about Sandburg allows me to channel my controls and brings them inline. I thought it was just between the two of us. But after this summer, I think its more Blair. Robert - that's the guy that took Sandburg - felt it and acted like a starving man with a steak when he touched him the first time."

Buck frowned, watching Jim pace back in forth. "Touched?"

"It was okay, Buck. Blair is fine."

"What does Blair say about all this?"

Jim stood still, face to face with one of Blair's masks hanging on the wall. "He doesn't know."

"What? How could you not tell him?" Buck's voice rose, his anger growing with each word.

Jim turned to plead his case. "What do I say? `Oh, by the way, Sandburg. If you ever leave me to get a life, I'll be in the nuthouse by the end of the year. Please pass the salt.'" Jim folded his arms over his chest and tilted his head as he looked at Buck. "See my point?"

Buck snorted, shaking his head. "You don't know Blair very well, do you?"

Jim's eye's narrowed. He thought he knew his roommate better than anyone, except maybe this man sitting in his living room.

"Do you have any idea how long he looked for a person with all five senses affected? He researched every rumor, no matter how slight the chance. Any extra money he earned that didn't go toward college was spent in travel expenses and long distance phone calls. He interviewed hundreds of people. And through it all, he got squat in support from his advisors, professors and fellow students. They all told him the same thing. Burton was smoking the loco weed with the natives when he wrote that book." Buck pointed a tan finger toward Jim. "I'm surprised he didn't have a stroke when he realized you were the real thing."

Jim huffed quietly and tilted his head back to contemplate the high ceiling. A small smile found its way to his face and he couldn't seem to shake it loose. "He did call me his `holy grail'."

"That about covers it," Buck said. "So I doubt he plans on walking away from you anytime soon. But, he does deserve to know the truth. I seem to remember Blair telling me that every sentinel needed someone to help him."

Jim nodded. "Right, someone to watch his back, a guide." The sound of water from the bathroom stopped, telling them the conversation was over. "I'll tell him, Buck."

Blair dialed the number to the Major Crimes department from his office. He'd moved heaven and earth to get the coming Thursday and Friday off, calling in favors and promising to cover for other T.A.'s if the need arose. Finally, after no small amount of groveling and finagling, he'd pulled it off. Now he had a surprising bit of good luck to share with his roommate.

"Ellison."

"Hey, Jim! Guess what?"

"Make it brief, Sandburg. I've got a prisoner to book."

"Really? Who'd ya arrest? The pawn stores break-ins?" Blair asked. He knew all the cases Jim was working. None of them were even close to closure by arrest.

"I should be so lucky," Jim answered with a sigh. "Some fool decided to shoplift right in front of me at the Wal-Mart store. I just went in for some motor oil."

Blair stifled a laugh. He had first hand knowledge of the number of forms Jim could look forward to processing for that misdemeanor. The suspect would be released pending his next court before the paperwork was completed.

"Oh, sorry, man. Anyway, I have our problem solved for this weekend. We don't have to freeze our butts off in a tent. Professor Harold is letting us borrow his camping trailer," Blair announced excitedly.

"A trailer."

"Yeah, I haven't seen it yet, but he says it's in great shape and it's got a bathroom and a kitchen and everything we'll need. Plus it's got enough room for Uncle Buck to stay with us." Blair paused for a second, expecting Jim to catch his enthusiasm of the moment. He should have known better.

"A trailer."

"Yeah...We already covered that part, man."

"How are we going to get it from Cascade to North Idaho, Einstein?"

Blair frowned at the phone. "Ah, Jim? Did that suspect resist arrest or something? Maybe hit you a few times in the head?" Blair teased. "I thought we'd try `towing' the trailer with your Expedition."

"We could...'If'...it was wired for trailer lights and brakes."

Blair dropped his chin on his chest. "Oh."

"Look, we can think about it. It's only Friday and we're not leaving till Wednesday night at the earliest. We'll talk about it tonight."

"Right, I'll be home early." Blair hung up and lowered his head to his desk, banging his forehead gently on his open textbook. Why didn't he think about that? Jim must think he was brainless.

"Okay, just start using your head, Sandburg," Blair muttered to himself, sitting up straight in his chair and closing his book. "Maybe try thinking before you engage your mouth next time."

Jim walked around the trailer, eyeing it thoughtfully.

After talking last night, they'd called the professor and made plans to look at the trailer the following morning. Now that Jim saw the trailer for himself, the idea of using it over a tent was appealing.

"Double axles, tires look good, decent size, not too heavy." Jim bent down to read the manufacturer's plate that listed the specifications to include tongue weight and the year it was made. "What do you tow this with?" Jim asked the elderly man standing next to Blair.

"I have a Ford 250, pulls it without a problem. Your rig shouldn't have any trouble either," Professor Harold said, taking out a set of keys. "Do you want to see the inside? She's old, but I've kept her in good condition."

Jim followed the owner into the trailer, Blair on his heels. Jim expected Blair to be jumping up and down like a kid with a new toy over the thought of using the trailer, but he hadn't said a word the entire time.

"The table folds away and the benches come out to make a nice bed. There's a set of twin beds in the back." Professor Harold pointed to his left.

Jim looked over the interior, noting the clean surfaces and pleasant smell. It was built in the mid-seventies, with a color scheme of wood grain and browns.

"The water pump is new. The batteries are in excellent condition. The oven and fridge run on propane. So does the hot water heater. Both the bottles are full, so you won't need to worry about running out. All I ask is you top them off when you return her."

Jim walked through the kitchen, sticking his head into the bathroom on the way to the back bedroom. Everything was clean and looked in good working order.

"Are you sure you won't mind us taking it to Idaho?" Jim asked.

"Certainly not, I wish I could go along to help. Blair tells me you'll be doing come construction work and fishing," Harold answered. "Besides, I can't count the number of times Blair has come through for me when I've needed help."

Jim nodded, turning to check the faucet in the bathroom. They'd be living like kings in this trailer. It was worth the cost of having the necessary work done to his vehicle in order to tow it. Besides, he'd planned on having the wiring done in the future, why not now?

"Well, okay then. If you're sure it's okay. We'll borrow it. I'll contact my insurance company and make sure they cover it. I just need to take a look at the connections so I can have the shop install the proper hookups." Jim made his way back to the door. Blair was standing on the steps looking at him with an uncertain expression.

"You sure, man?"

Jim shrugged. "Why not? You said it yourself. This beats staying in a tent. North Idaho will be seeing freezing temperatures at night this time of year. We might as well be comfortable."

Blair's face broke into a hesitant smile. "Cool." He rocked up on his toes, the beginning of the Sandburg enthusiasm starting to surface. "This is gonna be a great trip."

Wednesday morning arrived overcast and windy. Blair turned his jacket collar up as he tossed his backpack into the back seat of Jim's Ford and slid into the passenger seat. He yawned, popping his jaw joint as Jim started the engine. The plan was to leave for Idaho that afternoon. In order for Blair take off for the weekend, he'd literally worked through the night grading papers. It was worth it. The grades were done and ready to be posted.

"You've got your clothes packed?"

"Yep, the bag's in the back."

"I'll be picking you up at three sharp in front of Hargrove Hall. Don't be late. We've got a five hour drive to Bonner's Ferry," Jim warned.

"Right." Blair rubbed his eyes. Man, he was not looking forward to trying to stay awake all day.

"You can sleep during the drive over, Chief."

"I'm fine, man. I've pulled two all-nighters back to back before and followed them up with a date."

"Let me guess, you were nineteen when this amazing feat was performed," Jim asked with a knowing look.

"You make it sound like I only did it once, man," Blair answered. "It was normal practice up until I moved in with you."

"What stopped you?"

"Have you seen my social life?" Blair laughed. "I don't have time for half the dates I used to go out on."

"Regrets, Chief?"

"Nah. I'll just cultivate finer quality relationships. Be a little selective."

Jim shook his head with a bemused smile. "You mean something more selective then she's breathing and has all her teeth?"

"Hey, I'm not that bad! Besides, finding women willing to put up with my Rainier-slash-police schedule is not that easy. I've learned my lesson from Chris, man. Forget looks, I want understanding and forgiveness." Blair watched a particularly gusty bit of wind threaten to knock over a tree; missing the strange look his partner gave him.

Jim pulled the Expedition close to the curb allowing Blair to avoid the worst of the puddles of water. Students were bundled up in heavy parkas and coats heading for their classes. The cold snap was turning the maple leaves on campus into brilliant colors of yellows and red as they clung to their limbs.

"Three PM sharp, Chief."

"I'll be waiting, man. I'm so pumped!" Blair said with a wave as he ducked his head into the wind and headed for his office.

Jim turned the Ford back towards the city. His long weekend actually started today, giving him time to do all the things that needed to be done to get ready. The Ford's trailer hookup was installed, but he wanted to pick up a few things at the sporting good store and the grocery store before they headed for Idaho.

Buck explained they would be using mostly generator power to run the power tools and other electrical equipment. Jim had a short list of necessary items to pick up that would add to their comforts while they donated their labors.

Jim pushed the cart down the isle, surveying the selection of lined wool gloves. He wanted the type with half-fingers as well as a mitten end that you could pull over your fingertips if you got cold. He found the ones he was searching for and tossed two sets into his cart. Taking out his list, he carefully put a small check next to `gloves' and headed for the next item.

Buck had called earlier in the week to check in, and was pleased to hear about the borrowed trailer. He had promised to arrive the following morning. During the phone call, Jim had remembered his earlier promise to Buck. He'd carefully added an item to the bottom of the list.

`Talk to Sandburg.'

Jim eyed the choice of fly lines hanging on the wall. Talk about armed robbery. He lifted a box from it's peg and examined the price sticker with a frown. When did fly-fishing become so expensive? What did they use on this sinking line, gold? He returned the box. Thankfully, all he needed was a floating line. If he needed a credit card to purchase some fly line, he'd have to sell a kidney to buy a new fly rod and reel. Buck promised to bring an extra setup for Blair to use, so Jim limited his purchase to the single fly line and a handful of tippets. Due to the suspicious nature of a trout, the fly had to be tied to the highly visible fly line by nearly invisible line about the width of a spider web called the tippets. Even then, some trout see the tippet and shy off at the last minute.

Pushing the cart toward the checkout stands, he ignored the tied flies in the display case. Simon had presented Jim with a box of flies that he'd tied himself, enough for both Blair and himself.

Nodding to the young man behind the counter, Jim's eyes strayed to the fly reels mounted on the wall behind the clerk's head. He paused, zooming in on a compact Remington reel. It was a sweet model. Jim could almost imagine the small voice coming from the reel, calling his name.

"Is there something I can show you?" the clerk asked flashing Jim a smile that revealed a set of shiny braces.

"How much is that Remington?" Jim pointed to the one beckoning him seductively.

At two-forty-five on the dot, Blair locked his office and headed for the main doors, balancing a stack of text books in his left arm. Staying awake hadn't been a problem. The day had not gone very well.

First thing that morning he'd lost his outline for class, causing him to arrive late. Thankfully the class was filled with freshmen, too new to make a run for the border when the teacher didn't show up on time. Then he'd received an urgent phone call from a fellow teacher who had to rush to the hospital because his wife had ruptured her appendix. Blair used up his office time teaching his class for him. Now he forced to bring the work he'd planned on doing in his office with him to Idaho.

He stood on the curb waiting for Jim. Soon the Ford appeared with the trailer in tow. Blair cringed as he watched the side of the professor's baby come within inches of a tree growing near the corner.

Holy cow, he had never stopped to consider whether Jim had towed a trailer before. Jim braked to a stop next to the curb. Blair took one look at the determined face of his roommate and knew it was not going to be a pleasant drive.

"Hey, Jim. Everything go okay?" Blair opened the rear door and set his books down, noticing a bag with the `GI Joe' brand name and logo printed on the sides.

"Fine, you ready to go?"

Blair quickly pulled a book out of his backpack to read during the drive and climbed in next to Jim. He snuck a peek at Jim's face, trying to judge the level of his frustration.

"You want me to drive, man?" He knew what the answer to that question would be.

"No."

Alrighty then.

Forty-five minutes later, they were eastbound and climbing into the Cascade Mountain range. Jim's face no longer had the `carved out of granite' look to it. They'd manage to escape the city without scraping the side of the trailer.

"What are you reading?"

Blair closed his book and tucked it away. "I'm reviewing the hunting habits of a primitive New Guinea tribe. I'm giving a lecture next week."

"Uh huh. Could you reach back and get me a coke? The icebox is behind my seat. I put some Sobe in there for you."

"Sure." Blair twisted his body to flip open the lid and pull out a can. "How's the trailer pulling, any problems?" He popped the tab and waited to see if anything was going to erupt before handing it over.

"It's good. Had some trouble figuring out the brakes, but I got it adjusted." Jim took a long pull and set the can in a holder on the floor.

"You ever pull a trailer before, man?"

"Nope, first time." Jim scratched his ear and gave Blair a small grin. "Kind of showed there in town, didn't it?"

Blair shook his head, keeping his face straight. "That's nothing, man. You should have seen me the first time I pulled a trailer. `Course it was a semi-truck with trailer. There are buildings in Kansas City that still have the scars I put there. Did you know you can blow a tire just by driving over those concrete dividers they put in parking lots?" Blair smiled at the laughter coming from his friend.

An hour later, Jim glanced at the map spread out on Blair's lap. He double-checked their route, satisfied they were heading in the correct direction. Maybe now was the time to talk to Blair. He shifted in his seat and repositioned his grip on the wheel.

Okay, you can do this, Ellison.

"Chief..." He let the rest of his thoughts go unspoken, glancing over at his passenger. Blair's eyes were closed, his head resting on a makeshift pillow he's fashioned out of his coat.

Let him sleep, the conversation could wait till tomorrow.

Three hours later, Jim followed the two lane highway down the hill into Bonner's Ferry. The sun had set half an hour ago and traffic was light. Jim spotted the blinking lights of a casino, built on the south bank of the Kootenai River.

"Wake up, Sandburg. We're stopping for dinner."

Blair straightened and rubbed his eyes. "We there yet?"

"Close. Bonner's Ferry. The campground is another twenty minutes north." Jim followed the signs to the casino, taking up four slots as he parked. It was a big lot, Jim reasoned, no one would complain. He wanted enough room to pull out without having to back up.

"I'm starving."

"You're in luck, we're eating." Jim killed the motor and opened his door. "Wipe the drool and come on."

"Drool? I drooled?" Blair ran his sleeve over his lower face and opened his door. The parking lot was well lit. Blair stopped to stare at a Volkswagen van.

"Hey, Jim. Wait a sec." Blair veered off toward the VW.

"Sandburg, what are you doing?" Jim watched his roommate circle the VW. It was old looking. The back window covered with stickers protesting different causes. Judging by the catchy phrases, whoever drove it had been interested in environmental issues for the last fifteen years. Blair peered into the windows.

"It's him! Wow! Jim, check this out, man. I haven't seen Oz in ...like twelve years."

"Okay, great. Can we eat now?"

When they finally arrived in the lobby, Blair was still talking about the owner of the VW.

"He's totally committed to the cause. He's a bulldog, man. He gets into the community and works side-by-side with the residents, getting them organized. I wonder what he's doing up in North Idaho?"

Blair followed Jim through the lobby. A standing fireplace surrounded by plush couches was arranged to their right. Rows of slot machines were visible through an opened door, opposite the cashier room.

The dining room was in the back to the left. Jim led them through the lobby and stood next to the `wait to be seated' sign. Business was slow for the kitchen, only a few people were eating. A waitress led them to a table by large windows with a view of the wide river. The dark waters reflected back the lights of the casino. After placing their orders, Jim excused himself to use the restroom. As he returned, he noticed a tall man in his early thirties standing by their table talking with Blair. Jim turned up his hearing to listen.

"...saw you go through the lobby."

"I knew you were here, man. We saw your bus. I can't believe you still have it!"

Blair sounded happy. This must be the Oz character that Blair was telling him about. Jim wove his way through the dining room towards their table.

"So what's with the old guy you're with? You traveling with your parole officer or something?"

Jim's opinion of Blair's acquaintance took a drastic nosedive. Blair looked across the room, watching his approach with eyes that twinkled with amusement over the remark.

"Close. Let me introduce you to him," Blair said, standing as Jim arrived. "Jim, this is Oz. He's the guy I was telling you about. He owns that VW we saw. Oz, this is my roommate, Jim Ellison."

"Hey, man," Oz said lightly.

Jim nodded, briefly shaking the offered hand. He sized up Blair's friend. Oz stood a hair taller than Jim, but about eighty pounds lighter, a light stubble on his face, giving him a thin, starving-artist appearance. He wore cotton canvas pants, a handmade sweater, also cotton, in an oatmeal color and a new pair of Birkenstock sandals with thick wool hiking socks. Jim noted his clothes were well made, expensive and relatively new.

"You want to join us?" Blair asked Oz politely.

"No, thanks, I've already eaten. I've got a room here. How long are you working at that campground?" Oz asked.

"We're leaving Sunday."

"Maybe I'll drop by, I've got some meetings with S.A.F.B. to attend, but I'll try and come out."

"Cool! Wait till I tell Naomi I saw you, she's gonna freak."

"She still as hot as I remember?" Oz said with a lecherous grin.

Blair's smile faded a bit, but remained in place. "Come on, man. That's my mom you're talking about."

Oz laughed and slapped Blair's shoulder. "She's still one spicy tamale, kid. Nice to meet you, Jim. See ya around, Blair." He left, still softly laughing to himself as he disappeared towards the lobby.

Jim pulled his chair out and sat down. "Parole officer?" he asked Blair with a raised eyebrow.

"What can I say? I told you, you scream `cop' when you enter a room," Blair joked.

"Well, he screams `jerk'. I'm only a few years older then he is, and for someone that's going for the struggling activist look, he needs to stop wearing two hundred dollar sweaters and designer sandals."

"Come on, Jim. He can't help he comes from money. It lets him work for good causes pro bono."

The waitress arrived with Blair's side salad and Jim's soup. They waited for her to leave before continuing the conversation.

"Sorry, Chief. I'm not impressed. He's lucky we're not in Washington. Judging by the smell of marijuana coming off that sweater, I'd have enough P.C. for a search. Want to guess how much he's carrying?" Jim sampled the vegetable soup and reached for the saltshaker.

"Do the words `you're off duty' have a meaning to you, Jim?" Blair asked eyeing the saltshaker with a frown.

"Just do me a favor, Toto. Keep Oz off my yellow brick road, okay?" Jim made a point to limit the shake to one pass over his soup, returning it to the edge of the table.

Blair speared a tomato. "Frankly, Dorothy, I wouldn't mind it too much if we managed to avoid his path all together."

Jim looked up in surprise. "That crack about your mother? And I don't want to be Dorothy. I was thinking more the Tin Man."

"Yeah, I'd forgotten what a womanizer he was. Naomi thought he was a real nuisance now that I think about it. And you're the one that started it. Toto was Dorothy's side kick, not the Tin Man's."

"Okay, if I change you to the Scarecrow, can I be the Tin Man?"

"Sure, as long as you don't make me the Lion."

"There's nothing cowardly about you, Sandburg," Jim said with a smirk.

"Wow! That bordered on a compliment!"

"Eat your rabbit food."

After dinner, they'd found an open gas station that issued fishing licenses. They left Bonner's Ferry behind. The campground was located off the highway about fifteen miles to the North.

Blair felt rejuvenated after his nap. Seeing Oz brought back fond memories of his early teenage years with Naomi. Blair watched the trailer on his side as Jim navigated the right turn on to a narrow dirt road that led to the campground, located at the bottom of a deep canyon.

"You're taking the corners much better now, Jim."

"I still plan on keeping my day job, Chief. This is not something I'd want to do five days a week."

The dirt road took them deep into a second-growth forest of cedar, fir and long needle ponderosa pine trees. Moonlight cast shadows in the forest. The trees were spaced apart, free from undergrowth. Walking through these woods didn't entail swinging a machete like the woods around Cascade.

Jim slowed the Ford as they neared a handmade sign warning drivers of upcoming hairpin corners. Blair gnawed on the side of his lower lip, glancing sideways at Jim.

Was he ready for this?

"What do you think, Chief?"

"Well, it doesn't have a length limit, so I'm guessing we're okay. Uncle Buck's been here before. He didn't warn me about any problems and he knew we were bringing the trailer. I'd say, gear down and take it slow."

"Okay."

They made the first corner with less then a foot to spare. Blair couldn't help but push his feet against the floorboard to brace himself as he craned his neck to peer over the drop off on his side of the road.

"That wasn't too bad," Jim said.

The next corner was tighter. Jim started the turn in the far left position, giving him as much room as possible to turn the trailer hard left.

"How's the trailer?" Jim asked tensely.

"You've got it, inches to spare," Blair replied.

Three turns later, they reached the canyon floor. Blair blew a lungful of air through puffed cheeks, wiping his palms on his jeans. He did `not' want to do that again.

"I hope going up will be easier than coming down," Jim said.

"It should be. Where are we supposed to go now?"

Evidence of construction in progress was visible everywhere they looked. A portable saw mill was set up directly in front of them, captured in the beams of the Ford's headlights. A few trucks were parked off to the left. Stacks of rough cut lumber was scattered around the clearing.

"I can see another trailer set up on the other side of the trucks. Let's try there first."

They could hear the sounds of a generator nearby. As they passed the parked vehicles, Blair saw the lights from a camping trailer through the trees.

"Can I help you two?"

With a start, Blair turned towards the gruff sounding voice. A large mountain-size man wearing overalls and a dark green thermal shirt stood under a pine. He had a full dark beard and longish hair that curled at the ends where it touched the collar of his shirt.

"We're here to work with Buck Stevens this weekend, Ellison and Sandburg," Jim answered.

"Great!" The mountain strode towards them, eating up the ground between them in no time. "Daniel Rimar. Friends call me Big Dan." He thrust out his economy-sized paw towards Blair and enthusiastically pumped his hand up and down, dropping it to do the same with Jim. Blair fought the urge to count his fingers to make sure they were all there.

"Is this your campground?" Blair asked.

"Nah, I wish. I'm like you guys, just working to help out a friend. Come on, I'll take you to see Henry."

Jim waved Blair to walk in front as they followed Big Dan towards the distant trailer. Henry Rodriquez was a short man with tan skin and a cheery smile on a round Hispanic face. He shook both men's hands and showed them where to park their trailer.

"We've got a lot done so far this summer. I hope to have the bathroom and shower building finished before the snow hits," Henry said walking through the darkness with the aid of a small flashlight he held in his left hand. "The water and septic fields finished, so you can hook your trailer up and not worry about that. Buck said your trailer was self-contained. You can charge up your batteries during the day off my generator, I'll run you a cord. No phone in yet. If you've got a cell phone, you'll need to drive to the top to get a decent signal."

Blair stumbled when his foot caught a root. He felt Jim's hand catch his upper arm. It was dark in the trees. Now that they distanced themselves from the other trailer, he began to hear the sounds from a nearby river.

"This comes out by the road." Henry pointed the flashlight toward a twin set of tracks that formed a rough road. "You can put your trailer right here."

Blair looked at the spot the flashlight pointed at. Between a couple of large pines and a horse-sized granite boulder, it would be tight, but doable. He couldn't see Jim's face in the dark.

"Ah, Chief?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you mind..."

"No sweat, man," Blair promised, taking the keys from Jim's hand.

In no time at all, the trailer was parked, leveled and hooked up to the water and septic.

"You're all set," Henry announced, rubbing his hands briskly together. "We start work at seven. You can stop at four if you want. The fishing gets really good about then."

"Great." Jim opened the back door of the Expedition and started handing off bags to Blair. "We'll be ready. Buck should be coming in early tomorrow."

"I'm looking forward to seeing the commander," Henry said with a chuckle. "He stopped by earlier this summer to look around, but I was gone. Big Dan showed him around."

"You served with Buck?" Blair asked as Jim filled his arms. The bags felt like they contained groceries.

"Sure did. He saved my sorry hide more times than I can remember," Henry told them. "I'm gonna let you two settle in. We'll see you in the morning."

Blair juggled the sacks as he followed Jim into the trailer and set them down on the long dinette table just inside the door, peering in the nearest bag. White butcher paper packages rested inside with cans of food and bottles of steak sauce.

"Geez, Jim. How much did you spend on food?" Blair asked. Jim had volunteered to do to the shopping with the understanding that Blair and Buck would share the cost.

"You need to eat when you're working outdoors. We'll be burning a lot of calories," Jim rationalized as he started putting the groceries away.

"Judging by the sacks, we may need a bigger trailer," Blair joked as he headed back to the Ford to get the clothes and sleeping bags.

The next morning, Jim filled the trailer with the smell of frying bacon. It was still dark outside, just a hint of light in the eastern sky. Jim studied the surroundings through the trailer's windows as he cooked.

Steep, tree covered slopes rose on each side of the canyon. A creek flowed twenty feet from the trailer. Further downstream it joined the large Kootenai River. It was a perfect location for a campground.

"Bacon? You bought us bacon?" Blair grumbled from his twin bed.

Jim turned away from the peaceful view and glanced towards the back bedroom. "I brought you some seven grain hot cereal, Sandburg. The bacon is for those of us that know how to eat while camping in the woods."

"Well, those of you that know how to eat in the woods better bring those who know how to perform CPR in the woods," Blair said from under several layers of blankets. "Those slamming sounds you're gonna hear after breakfast are your arteries shutting down, man."

Jim rolled his eyes, waiting for the bacon to cook. He had biscuits in the oven. In a few minutes, he'd start the eggs. He tilted his head. He could hear the sounds of a vehicle above them, just starting down the first switchback on the road into the canyon. It sounded like Buck's old Toyota Land Cruiser.

"Shake a leg, Chief. Buck's here. We have an hour to eat and get ready to work." He peeled off a few more strips of pork and added it to the large cast iron pan that he'd found under the sink.

Blair emerged from the bedroom rubbing his arms briskly as he opened the door to the small bathroom. "Do we have hot water for a shave?"

"We should."

"I'm gonna shave first, shower later."

When Buck walked in carrying a small rucksack, Blair was just sitting down to a bowl of cereal and hot biscuits.

"Nice trailer, runt," Buck commented.

"This table folds down and the seats push together to make your bed," Blair explained.

"Hey, Buck." Jim waved a fork. "Bacon and eggs sound good to you?"

Buck tossed his bag on the bench seat and slid in across from Blair. "If you were wearing red lipstick and high heels, I'd have to marry you. Any coffee?"

"I'll get you some," Blair said, laughing.

Jim pulled a clean cup down from above his head, handing it over his shoulder to Blair. "You got here early, when did you leave Dry Falls?" Jim asked.

"Tuesday," Buck said, looking into Blair's bowl with a grimace. "I was up in Canada, just over the border, looking at some new pear trees they're growing. I drove straight here this morning. What is that stuff you're eating, kid? Birdseed?"

"Now we know where the nickname `bird brain' comes from, Chief," Jim joked as he cracked an egg into the skillet.

Blair rolled his eyes as he stirred his seven-grain cereal with a spoon. "No one calls me that, man...right?"

A few minutes before seven, they headed towards the small saw mill and found Henry and Big Dan already getting the tools ready for work. Buck and Henry spent a few minutes slapping each other's back and telling outrageous stories about each other to the rest of the men.

"She `was' the Admiral's daughter and you nearly had your fool head blown off," Buck insisted with a laugh.

"That's not the way I remember it, commander," Henry said with a snort.

"Then you've developed a selective memory in your old age, mister," Buck told him, winking at Blair and Jim. "Are you ready to give us some work to do?"

"Sure, come on." He led the way towards the building under construction. In the daylight, the layout of the campground was easy to see. Several tracks were looped around the campground. Jim guessed them to be future roads. Most of the sparse underbrush was cleaned out. The total size of the campground was five acres, with twice as much available up the canyon for future growth before the canyon became too narrow. Jim zoomed in on the creek. The fishing possibilities looked very promising.

"I ran into a snag with the building that houses the bathrooms and showers," Henry explained as they neared the structure. "I decided I wanted it bigger than the original plans called. The pipes were already laid in, now the building is closer to the hillside than I anticipated. So I'm thinking about bringing in a dozer and moving the earth around to level it out."

Buck studied the area with his hands on both hips. "That sounds like a lot of extra expense. Why not just wrap the front in a short deck and run a staircase down the slope?"

Henry nodded. "Yeah, I'd like that. There's plenty of lumber, but I wanted you and Big Dan with me to finish the inside in time for snow."

"No problem. Jim and I can do it, right, man?" Blair volunteered.

Jim shot his partner a dubious look. Setting trusses last April at Dry Falls under the watchful supervision of Buck was not the same thing as designing and building a deck with stairs. Especially when the original plans didn't include them.

"I don't know, Sandburg..."

"It's a snap. We'll probably finish with time to spare," Blair said, turning to Henry and Buck.

Buck nodded. "Good. Let's get to work."

Buck returned to his Toyota to unload some tools he'd brought along. Jim waited until Henry and Big Dan were busy with the air compressor before snagging his partner by the arm and pulling him off to one side.

"I have no idea how to build a deck, Chief."

"It's easy, man. I'll walk you through it."

Jim gave his friend a puzzled look. "You know construction?"

"Sure. Naomi and I worked with Habitat for Humanity. We did so many blitz builds that year, I still have the floor plans for a single-story two-bedroom house in my head." Blair waved a nonchalant hand through the air. "Trust me, a deck and stairs is a walk in the park."

"Are you sure you're only twenty-six?" Jim asked suspiciously. "You've done more stuff then most fifty-year-olds I know."

Blair gave his friend a gentle shove in the direction of the tool shed. "Come on, homeboy. Let's find a measuring tape and paper. We have a deck to build."

Blair looked up from his math problem. They'd set the blocks for the deck supports and fashioned some hangers against the exterior wall of the building. While Jim was busy cutting the two-by-fours, he ran the dimensions for the steps through on paper before cutting the two-by-twelve boards they'd use for the risers. His attention was diverted from the task by the sound of a VW bus chugging into the camp ground.

"Oh, swell," he muttered under his breath.

Oz parked his bus and stepped out. Today he was wearing a stylish pair of brown corduroy pants and a black turtleneck. His long blond hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail. He spotted Blair and picked his way over the rocky ground in his direction.

"Hey, Blair. How's it hanging?"

"Hey, Oz. I though you had a meeting with ..." Blair's mind searched for the right letters as he saw Jim pause from his work to watch.

"S.A.F.B. It's stands for Safe Air for Breathing. I made it up myself," Oz said proudly. "Just came from the meeting. We're trying to stop the agricultural burning the farmers are doing. They're dumping tons of crap into the air and causing more health problems than even the republicans can ignore."

"What are they burning?" Blair asked.

"They grow Kentucky bluegrass, harvest the seed and burn the rest. We want to get business owners in the area to throw in their support. Who's the owner of the campground?"

Blair tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. "Henry, he's working inside right now."

"Introduce me to him," Oz ordered.

Blair remembered how long winded Oz could be when he started talking about one of his pet causes. "I don't know, man. He's really busy right now. Why don't you come back after four? That's when the work stops."

Oz studied Blair for a moment, his face showing a hint of surprise. "Good point. I'll try tomorrow afternoon. I need to get back to Bonner's Ferry before five, I've got a hot date tonight." He gave Blair a suggestive wink. "Don't tell anyone I said this, but the chicks in these back water towns are so fine, as long as their old men don't catch you."

Blair tried not to roll his eyes. Oz hadn't changed one bit.

Jim waited until Oz was gone before setting his saw down and joining Blair by the deck in progress. "What a sweetheart."

Blair nodded. "He' okay... mostly. It is a decent cause he's working on. I read a little about the burning. People with asthma and lung problems are really affected by it."

"True, but the farmers have been doing it for generations. If the courts order them to stop, it may bankrupt them," Jim said.

"There's got to be some middle ground, man."

"Let's hope they find it. I've got those two by fours finished, now what?"

They worked through the day, stopping for a lunch of sandwiches and fruit. At four sharp, Henry came around to inspect their work and talk over the plan.

"This is looking great! I'm really impressed," Henry said with a slap to Jim's back.

"I'm just the worker bee. Sandburg is the brain."

Blair shrugged, feeling a blush starting up from his neck. "We can use smaller diameter poles for the railing and, if we get the time, I thought you might like some benches on the edges of the deck," he suggested.

"Buck said you two where top drawer material," Henry said with a nod. "Any time you're in North Idaho, you stop by and stay as long as you want, on the house."

"Cool, thanks!" Blair said.

They put away the tools and headed for the trailer, meeting Buck on the way. After cleaning up and changing into waders, they got ready for an evening of fishing. Blair watched as the two men fitted their rods and threaded them with fly line. Buck handed an extra rod and reel to Blair.

"Ready?"

"Yep." Blair took the rod, amazed at the light weight. He eyed Jim's set up thoughtfully. "Is that reel new, man?"

"I treated myself to an early Christmas present," Jim admitted with a shrug.

They hiked up the creek, following the water around a bend that took them out of sight of the campground. The water was deep in places, shallow and fast in others.

"This looks like a good spot," Buck commented. "I'll let you young'uns walk up further. Try not to drown yourselves."

Jim and Blair continued upstream. Soon Jim slowed and examined the water. The stream rippled at a downward slope around small boulders.

"Okay, Sandburg. You should have some good luck here. You want me to show you a few casting tips?"

Blair shook his head. "I remember, man. I can do it."

Jim gave his friend a hesitant look. "This is not the same as lake fishing, Chief."

"It's water, they're still fish. I promise I won't snag a tree. I'll be fine." He made quick shooing motions with his hands.

"Okay. I'll be upstream. Call if you need me."

Blair waited till he was out of sight, then stripped out enough line before carefully casting over the water. The current caught the fly and swept it downstream.

No strike.

Blair repositioned and tried again. This time he stepped into the water, feeling the cool temperature from the moving water chill his ankles but still remaining dry. A few more casts. The fly danced on the water.

But no strikes.

Over an hour later Blair gave up. He sat on a rock studying the water in disappointment. He'd remembered everything Jim taught him at Dry Falls and his casting was perfect, okay, adequate. He could even see the stupid fish swimming by once or twice and occasionally leaping for real flies.

But would they even try for any of his artificial flies?

No.

Blair considered giving up, to heck with it. He had school work to do anyway.

He jumped as a shadow fell across the rocks in front of him. Squinting into the sunlight, he recognized his Uncle Buck standing beside him, smelling fishy and looking contented.

"Don't tell me...you've been catching tons of fish," Blair said moodily.

"Hand over fist, mister. What took the wind out of your sails?" Buck asked sitting next to Blair on a convenient boulder, leaning his fly rod against a shoulder.

"I know I'm doing everything the same as before, but do I get even a nibble? Nada, zip, zero, man." Blair pointed at the creek. "These fish saw me coming."

Buck laughed. "Didn't Jim give you some pointers?"

Blair tried not to look guilty, but failed. "He started to..." "But you pulled your classic, `I can do it myself, by Blair Sandburg' act," Buck said with a frown. "There's no shame in admitting you don't know something, Blair."

Blair studied the water with intense fascination.

Buck rose with a sigh. "Okay, runt, show me your cast."

Blair stood and waded into the water, carefully sliding his feet over the mossy rocks to keep from falling. He performed a short cast. The fly landed lightly on the water. Blair watched it arc out across the current and swing back to him, never expecting a fish to bite. He reeled in the slack and waded back towards his uncle.

"Good casting, you might wait a second or so longer before moving your rod forward, though. Come on."

"Where?" Blair asked unhappily.

"Let's go watch Jim fish and I'll explain what you should have listened to the first time."

Jim was standing knee-deep in current when they found him upstream. Blair had to smile at the expression on his friend's face. Jim looked totally relaxed, a gentle smile on his lips. He was the perfect picture of the `happy camper' as he bent over in the water to release a fish. Jim checked the sky carefully before twisting the barbless hook with a quick motion and standing to watch the trout swim off.

"Notice how he never touches the fish?" Buck asked. "That's a good idea. The slimy stuff on their bodies protects them from diseases. Too much handling can remove that protection."

They had a good view of Jim from their location. Blair dropped down next to Buck on a log to watch. Jim glanced up from his location with a questioning look at Blair.

"Fishing lessons, man," Blair said quietly.

Jim nodded and returned to his task of examining his hook.

"He can hear us from there?" Buck asked.

"If he wanted to, he could have heard you while you were fishing downstream."

"Amazing," Buck commented with a small shake to his head. "Okay, he's getting ready to cast. Watch the fly."

Blair could barely make out the small white fluff of elk hair tied to the hook as it landed on the water's surface. He knew the elk hair was hollow and floated on the tension surface of the water easily. Jim called it a caddis fly. It was the same thing he'd been using himself.

On the fourth cast, a quick flash struck the elk hair and the fight was on. Blair felt his own pulse quicken with the thrill of watching the rod bend and the reel make a noisy protest as the trout ran downstream, stripping off the extra line. He looked back to see the smile on Jim's face widen as he played it, keeping the rod up in the air. Long before the fish was exhausted, Jim worked it close to his feet and bent down to release it.

"Why does he keep looking at the sky before he let's the fish go?" Blair wondered out loud.

"He's checking for birds. It's shallow there. The fish will be tuckered out a little. A bird could snatch it out of the water before it gets a chance to rest up. You don't want to play a fish too long in a stream unless you know you're keeping it. Swimming in the current takes a lot of energy. You need to leave the fish enough strength so it can find adequate cover from birds and fight the current," Buck said. "Now watch this cast. Look at the line when it lands on the water."

Blair watched.

Each time the line landed. Jim tossed a bend in it. Blair hadn't notice that before, but Jim was consistent, each cast, he'd wave the rod tip sharply and throw the bend. Why? Blair's eyes returned to the fly, it floated in the current perfectly. The movement of the water would eventually take all bends out the line. As soon as the line was straight, the fly began to move sideways in the water toward Jim. It was being pulled back by the taut fly line. Blair slapped a hand to his forehead.

"The drift!"

Buck was smiling proudly at him. "Yep. The fish aren't stupid. If your fly is acting unnatural, like when it moves sideways instead of floating with the current, the fish will ignore it. In fact, it tends to spook them." Buck pointed at the water. "You have to learn to `read' the stream. Where the water is flowing fast and slow and compensate by `mending' the line."

"Mending?"

"Tossing that extra slack in, it lengthens the natural looking drift and could get you a strike."

Buck went on to explain other tips about fly fishing in streams. Blair realized this was nothing like fishing from a boat in a lake. It added a complete new dimension to the challenge. Before long he was itching to return to his location and fish. This time however, he forced himself to remain still and listen carefully to all the instructions being shared.

"Okay, you look ready to leap out of your skin. Go fish. You've spooked the fish at your old location. Work yourself upstream from Jim." Buck watched with an amused expression as Blair shot to his feet. "Remember to read the water and be careful."

Blair flashed a mega-watt grin at the older man and headed up the creek.

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