Jared's Story

Chapter 1

Jared put one last can in the burlap sack lying on the table, then gave a satisfied smile as he hefted it experimentally. There ought to be enough food in the bag to last him a week or more if he was careful. Now all he had to do was find a place to hole up before the storm hit and maybe he could stay in one place long enough for his leg to heal.

He bit into one of the biscuits he had left out and looked around the log cabin as he chewed hungrily. It seemed like a nice place; only one large room with a fireplace at one end and a wood stove at the other, but an ell had been added to the back to make room for a large bed and chest. The wide-planked floor had small rag rugs scattered across it and there were cheerful calico curtains at the windows. Two chairs were positioned near the fireplace, a big leather one on the left and a smaller wooden rocker on the right. A shelf of books hung on the wall within easy reach of the big chair and one lay face down on the table next to it, as if the reader had just stepped away for a moment.

He had always thought that someday he'd be able to get a place like this, that he'd be the one sitting in the big leather chair with his ma in the rocker across from him, so happy that he was taking care of her and she didn't have to work any more...

Stop it! he ordered himself fiercely. This was no time to be maudlin. He had to finish up and get out of here before the owner of the cabin came back. Wiping his cheeks on a grimy sleeve, he continued his survey of the cabin. He eyed the brightly colored quilts on the big bed longingly, but reluctantly decided against taking one. It would be too bulky to fit in the sack, and he didn't think he could carry it and the sack and still manage his makeshift crutch.

Spying a heavy black wool shirt laying over a chair close by, he took it, instead. Pulling it on over his thin, striped cotton one, he rolled up the sleeves until he could see his hands, wincing as the rough fabric dragged over the half-healed cuts and scrapes. The owner of the cabin sure must be big, Jared thought. The shirt hung on him but it would be warm.

Looking around the cabin once more, he decided that there wasn't anything else portable that he could use. He stuffed the last bite of biscuit in his mouth, tossed the sack over his shoulder and picked up the gnarled branch he used for a crutch. He opened the door cautiously, peering out, watching until he was satisfied that there was no one nearby. Then he gave a final wistful look at the warm haven he was leaving behind and slipped out, quietly closing the door behind him.

Hobbling across the porch, he stepped carefully to the ground, shifted the bag to a more comfortable position across his shoulder and started across the open yard. The wool shirt offered more protection against the cold wind than his frayed cotton one did, but the chill still bit through. He limped briskly toward the shelter of the trees, trying to decide where he'd be most likely to find a cave or deadfall. He needed to find a place where he could hide and risk building a small fire. Preoccupied with his thoughts, he wasn't aware of the horseman until he heard the angry shout.

"Hey, you! Stop!"

Looking over his shoulder, Jared saw a huge black horse bearing down on him, and broke into a stumbling run, first trying to hang on to his precious supplies, then dropping them in an attempt to gain a little more speed. He had to escape, he thought wildly. He couldn't let them catch him. If they caught him, they'd kill him, just like they'd killed his ma.

~~~~

Ethan Montgomery was cold, tired, and hungry. He had spent a long day riding and repairing fence - hard, backbreaking labor when done alone. All he wanted now was hot food and a long, steaming bath. A real bath, with a tub that he could stretch out in and a servant who would keep adding hot water as it cooled, not a galvanized washtub that he knelt in while pouring lukewarm water over himself.

Almost five years, he mused; five years since he had defied his father and been cast out to make his own way in the world. He hadn't done too badly for himself, he thought as he topped the rise overlooking the cabin and barn. He had a good ranch, a few cattle, a growing herd of the horses he loved, and he was starting to put money in the bank. He sure would like a decent bathtub and someone to keep adding hot water, though. Maybe in the spring he could build a bunkhouse, see about hiring a couple hands-- His musings came to an abrupt halt as he caught a furtive movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning his head in that direction, he spied a slight figure stepping gingerly off his porch and starting across the yard, a heavy sack over one shoulder.

Damn thief!

"Hey, you!" he shouted as he kicked Lucifer into a gallop. "Stop!"

The startled thief looked over his shoulder and broke into a curiously gaited run, dropping his sack in a vain attempt to stay ahead of the his pursuer's horse. Ethan flung himself from the saddle and tackled the man, sending them both crashing to the ground. To the rancher's amazement, the little thief fought like a wildcat, even though there was no chance of him getting away. He twisted and bucked beneath the older man, managing to get in several surprisingly solid blows before Ethan straddled his hips and pinned him to the ground. Grabbing a rawhide calf tie from one pocket, Ethan tied the man's hands in front of him, and then sat back to take a good look at his prize. He was young, Ethan realized in surprise, dirty and unkempt, obviously not out of his teens yet. What was he doing out in the middle of nowhere, all alone?

"What's your name?" he demanded, scowling as the youth turned his head away, refusing to answer.

He reached down and took the narrow jaw in one hand, turning the young man's head back toward himself. "I asked you a quest- DAMN IT!"

He jerked his hand away from the youth's mouth and stared at the blood dripping from the teeth marks in his wrist. The damned kid had bitten him! He took his bandana and swiftly gagged the recalcitrant young man.

"You lost. Give it up," he advised his captive tightly.

Running his hand through his dark hair, he looked around for the hat he had lost in the scuffle. Spying it a few feet away, he went to pick it up, a move his captive promptly took advantage of, rolling away and struggling to get to his feet.

"Damn it, would you give up already?" Ethan asked in exasperation, pinning him down again and tying his feet as well.

There was a rumble of thunder and a splattering of heavy raindrops on the hard packed ground, and Ethan looked up at the sky and sighed. Wasn't anything going to go right today? Tossing his captive over one shoulder like a limp sack of meal, Ethan carried him into the cabin and callously dropped him onto the hearth rug in front of the fireplace. He took a few moments to build up the fire, then stood looking down at his young captive.

"I'm going out to do chores before the storm gets any worse. You stay put. I'll decide what to do with you when I get back."

As the door closed behind the unfeeling man, Jared struggled briefly against his bonds, then gave up in despair. Even if he could get free, his knee felt like it was on fire, and he could tell that it had started bleeding again. There was no way he would be able to walk, and without the contents of his sack he wouldn't be able to survive the storm anyway. He sighed hopelessly, lying in silent misery where he had been dropped, waiting for his captor to return.

Ethan lost no time catching Lucifer and getting him into the barn. He worked quickly and efficiently, unsaddling him and putting him in his stall, but omitting his usual currying and grooming.

"No brushing tonight, boy." He patted the stallion's neck as he put hay and grain in the manger and checked the water bucket. "Tonight I have another little problem to take care of."

He grabbed his rifle from its sheath on the saddle and made a slight detour to pick up the burlap sack lying in the rain on his way to the cabin.

Once inside, he put his rifle on its pegs over the door, then tipped the contents of the bag onto the table near the door, wondering which of his possessions the thief had found most appealing.

A can of beans rolled out first, followed by one of peaches, then a few small potatoes and the biscuits left over from breakfast. Puzzled, he upended the bag, going through the contents in growing disbelief. A few more cans, some matches, his smallest frying pan, his spare canteen - no money, no trinkets, none of his valuables. The young man hadn't stolen anything but what he absolutely needed to survive.

The room was growing warmer, and he absent-mindedly took off his hat and coat, still pondering as he hung them on a hook by the door. As his hand brushed the sleeve of the jacket it came away sticky and he looked closely at his fingers. Blood, and a lot of it. His wrist hadn't bled that much. He looked over at the captive young man lying on the floor, staring back at him with wary eyes. A young man, he realized, who was not only dirty and ragged, but thin to the point of emaciation, and apparently hurt as well.

Stifling his remorse - after all the young hellion had been robbing him - he crossed the room and knelt next to him, putting a firm hand on the youth's shoulder as he tried to roll away.

I'm going to take the gag out now, but if you bite me again, you'll regret it," he warned as he pulled the piece of cloth away from the young man's mouth. "Now tell me where you're hurt."

"My knee," he whispered painfully. "It hurts bad, mister."

Ethan lit a kerosene lamp and set it on the floor close by for a better look at the leg. The right knee of the thread-bare black pants was badly torn and the pants leg was covered with blood, some fresh, some long-since crusted and dried. Through the rent he could see that the knee was badly bruised and swollen and had a long, jagged cut running at an angle across it.

He grasped the young man's calf and foot and gently turned it, nodding to himself as the youth cried out in pain. There was some tendon damage there as well. The pants were going to have to come off, he decided, and the leg was going to have to be cleaned up before he could tell how much damage there actually was. He wrinkled his nose distastefully. A bath would take care of cleaning the leg and get rid of the odor at the same time.

"What's your name?" he asked again, keeping his hands well away from the sharp teeth this time.

The young man lay stubbornly silent, his lips firmly pressed together, and Ethan gave a sharp, painful swat to the back of his thigh. "I asked you a question, little boy."

"I'm not a little boy!" the young man flared angrily.

"Then stop acting like one and answer the question."

There was a long pause and Ethan raised his hand again.

"Jared," he sullenly capitulated. "My name's Jared."

"All right, Jared. I'm Ethan, and the first thing we're going to do here is get you cleaned up so I can take care of your leg."

"Why?" Jared asked suspiciously.

"Why what?"

"Why do you wanna take care of my leg? You a doctor?"

"No, I'm not a doctor, but somebody's got to bandage you up. You're bleeding all over my rug," Ethan replied acerbically. "And I've taken care of enough horses' legs that I should be able to figure out yours."

He sat back on his heels and thought for a minute, then got up and went to work, first building a fire in the woodstove and setting buckets of water to heat, then bringing in the big oval washtub and setting it on the floor near Jared. Finding a bundle of soft rags, he used part of them to make a soft pad on the bottom of the tub, then put a bar of soap and another cloth on the floor nearby.

Jared watched warily as Ethan made his preparations, unable to understand why the man was being so kind to him. He'd been robbing him, for God's sake! He cringed away as Ethan knelt next to him again, expecting a blow at any time.

"I'm going to untie you now. No hitting or kicking. You understand?"

Jared hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. There was no point in fighting and if he played along now, maybe there would be a chance for escape later.

He lay quietly as the rancher untied his hands and feet and pulled off his boots, and silently endured Ethan's scathing look as he recognized the wool shirt he was removing; but when Ethan reached for his suspenders, he flinched and scooted backwards on his butt until he was out of reach.

"Would you lie still?" Ethan asked irritably, hauling him back within reach. "You can't take a bath with your pants on."

Jared bit his lip and nodded, seeing the sense in that, but still not liking the idea. As Ethan unbuttoned and pulled the ragged pants off, Jared tried to pull his loose cotton shirt down enough to cover himself, bitterly ashamed that he didn't have long johns on underneath.

"I know what it looks like, little boy," Ethan told him bluntly, grabbing the hem of the shirt and stripping it off as well. "You don't have anything I don't have."

Stung, Jared allowed Ethan to grasp his elbow and pull him to his feet, then lift him into the tub. He knelt down and gripped the sides of the tub with both hands, gingerly resting his injured knee on the cloth pad and taking his weight on his hands and good knee.

Ethan brought a bucket of water from the stove and knelt beside the tub, picking up the soap and cloth next to him. Jared cautiously let go with one hand and reached for them, only to find that Ethan had no intentions of letting them go.

"I'm *not* letting you give me a bath," Jared protested rebelliously, feeling like he had to set a limit somewhere. "I'm not a little kid. I can do it myself."

He felt a moment of victory as Ethan silently handed them to him, then quickly realized how hollow that victory was as he tried to figure out how to soap the cloth without letting go of the tub with his other hand.

"Satisfied?" Ethan asked after a minute.

Jared silently handed them back to him, blushing a deep red and barely resisting the urge to throw the soap at that smirking face.

"Wise decision," Ethan commented, accurately reading the expressive young face. "You're kind of vulnerable right now."

Laying the cloth aside for a moment, he poured a dipper of warm water over Jared's matted blond hair, then lathered up the soap and worked the suds through the dirty tangles. He rinsed it and repeated his steps until the water ran clear, then got the second bucket from the stove, pausing long enough to set a pan of leftover beans in its place.

"Close your eyes," he directed as he soaped the cloth and washed the young man's dirty face.

Jared knelt docilely as Ethan went on to wash the nape of his neck and down his back, but when the soapy cloth ran first across his buttocks and then through the dark cleft between them he made an incoherent, panicked protest. Pushing his toes against the bottom of the tub, he struggled to stand, fighting against the hand Ethan pressed to his shoulder. Ethan had little patience with the misguided rebellion and there was a solid THWACK as his wet, soapy hand connected with Jared's wet, soapy bottom, leaving a bright red handprint on the pale flesh.

"Now stop, little boy," he ordered impatiently. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just getting you clean."

He waited until Jared had subsided, flushed and bright-eyed, then finished washing his bottom and between his legs, before moving on to his legs, arms and chest. As he ran the soapy cloth over the flat belly and into the groin he felt the young man shudder. Looking up, he saw that Jared's hands were gripping the sides of the tub so tightly that his knuckles were white, while he stared straight ahead, tears of mortification in his eyes.

"It's all right, Jared," he said gruffly. "We're almost done." He finished as quickly as he could, searching for something to distract the young man. "How old are you?" he asked, ladling water over the soapy body.

"Nine-nineteen." Jared stuttered, starting to shiver under the cooling water.

"Try again, Jared," Ethan said calmly, knowing that the thin body under his hands wasn't anywhere near nineteen years old. "The truth this time. I don't like being lied to."

"Eighteen," he mumbled almost inaudibly.

Ethan raised his hand.

"All right, seventeen!" the young man flared. "I'm seventeen, all right?"

"That's more like it," Ethan approved, pouring the last of the water over him, then lifting him out of the tub and wrapping a large drying cloth around him. He carried Jared over to a chair at the table, near the warmth of the stove, and put him down on it. "You sit there and dry off while I get my salves and something for you to wear."

Jared hastily dried off and wrapped the cloth more securely around himself, huddling in it and swallowing heavily at the aroma of beef and beans filling the air. He spotted the food that Ethan had dumped out of his sack onto the table, the remaining biscuits lying just beyond his reach. Glancing cautiously over his shoulder, he saw that Ethan was rummaging through the chest in the ell, unable to see Jared from his position. If he stood up and leaned against the table, Jared thought, he could snatch one of the biscuits and be sitting again before the big man turned around. He matched action to thought, but his treacherous knee gave way and he fell, landing hard with his chest across the table and his butt in the air. He yelped at the pain in his knee and then again, louder, as a strong hand grasped the nape of his neck and another hand landed on his butt with a solid THWACK.

"I *told* you to sit!" Ethan snapped as he thumped Jared back on to the chair.

His eyes followed Jared's longing gaze at the biscuits that were once again out of reach and his voice softened. "We'll eat in a few minutes, little boy, as soon as we get you dressed and I take a look at your knee."

"I'm not a little boy," Jared protested automatically. He sat back, brow furrowed, as he tried to figure things out. Why was this stranger taking care of him like this? Why didn't he just turn him over to the sheriff and be done with it? A small hope stirred within him. Maybe the rancher wouldn't turn him over to the sheriff. Maybe he'd even let Jared stay here. He wouldn't mind sleeping in the barn and working for his room and board. He was strong for his size and he'd could do just about anything. Maybe... Lost in thought, he meekly lifted his arms as Ethan dictated, allowing the big man to pull a red-and-white striped nightshirt over his head and roll up the sleeves, lifting his hips to let it slide down over his rump, then settling back onto the chair again.

He gasped in pain as Ethan examined his knee again, grasping it gently and manipulating it first one way and then another.

"How did you injure this?"

"I was running and I fell in some rocks." Jared spoke through gritted teeth, his fists clenching as he tried not to jerk away or show his pain.

"Running from the law, no doubt," Ethan commented dryly.

Jared closed his eyes, the comment too close to the truth for him to joke about, but unwilling to tell Ethan what had actually happened.

His eyes on what he was doing, Ethan hadn't seen the look of anguish on the young man's face, and he continued speaking. "I'm going to have to clean this cut out, then stitch it and poultice it. It looks like you strained the tendon too. It's going to take a while to heal, and you can't walk on it until it does. I'll make you a crutch tomorrow. Until then, you stay off of it. Understand?"

He waited until he had received a confirming nod, then mixed up the ingredients for the poultice and put it on the back of the stove to warm. Dishing up a plate of beans, he set it and utensils in front of the kid, then filled his own plate. When he turned back to the table, Jared was hungrily wolfing down the food, his plate already half empty.

"Hey, slow down," Ethan warned, "you're going to make yourself si-"

Too late. He grabbed the empty bucket and set it in front of the young man as he choked and gagged, then lost the contents of his stomach. Ethan waited, holding the Jared's head until he had finished retching, then got a cup of water and held it to his lips, letting him sip enough to rinse his mouth.

As Jared spit the water into the bucket and leaned back, tears streaming down his cheeks, Ethan patted his back. "It's all right, Jared. You're just tired and you tried to get it down too fast, that's all. How long has it been since you've eaten?"

"I-I don't know," Jared faltered. "I had a biscuit this afternoon."

Ethan shook his head, silently cursing his own stupidity. He should have known better than to try to feed the kid beans when he was so obviously starving. He found a can of condensed milk on the shelf and filled a mug half full, then finished filling it with hot water from the kettle on the stove. Looking at the shivering, disconsolate young man, he added a judicious amount of laudanum, started to hand it to him, then reconsidered. In the shape he was in, he'd just gulp it down and it would come right back up. He carried the mug over to the small table by his leather chair, then picked Jared up and carried him over as well.

"Can you stand on one foot a minute?" he asked.

The unhappy young man nodded shakily, holding onto the chair for support while Ethan got a quilt from the foot of the bed and sat down. He reached out to draw Jared down on his lap and the youth backed up a step.

"I'm not sitting on your lap like a little kid," he sniffled firmly.

"Fine. But you're not getting the milk until you do," Ethan replied evenly.

Jared held out for a long moment as pride warred with hunger, then sighed and settled himself on Ethan's lap, holding out his hands for the cup of milk.

"Uh-uh." Ethan tucked one of the reaching hands behind him and gently pushed the other one under the quilt he wrapped around the young man. "I'm holding the cup."

He ignored the expected protest, waited until Jared grudgingly capitulated, then held the cup to his lips for a small sip.

"Slowly," he cautioned, pulling the cup away as Jared swallowed greedily. "You need to drink it slowly."

The laudanum worked as Ethan had planned, relaxing him and settling his stomach. He managed to finish most of the milk, one small sip at a time, before the stormy gray eyes closed and he slept, not stirring even when Ethan laid him on the bed and cleaned, stitched and bandaged his knee.

Ethan tucked him under the quilts, then ate his own supper and washed up before going back to check on him. Jared lay curled under the mound of blankets, breathing softly through slightly parted lips, one hand under a thin cheek. Asleep, he looked both innocent and vulnerable, and Ethan wondered again where he had come from and what he was doing out here all alone. He built up the fire again and sat down with his book, intending to read awhile. Instead, his thoughts drifted idly until his eyes closed and he slept as well.