Chapter 2

Jared opened his eyes sleepily, warm and comfortable for the first time in days. His drowsy contentment abated somewhat as he remembered just why he was so warm and comfortable, how the tall stranger had taken care of him and apparently tucked him into bed after he fell asleep. He flushed with embarrassment as he thought of the way the man had handled him, washing him and feeding him like he was a baby. Ethan, he remembered. The big man's name was Ethan.

Gazing across the room he saw Ethan asleep in his chair by the dying fire, an open book lying facedown on his lap. He lay watching the big man sleep, taking in the thick dark hair, the strong jaw, the broad chest and narrow waist... he flushed again as he realized where his eyes and thoughts were headed and looked away, seeking something to distract him.

The increasing pressure in his bladder helped explain why he had awakened. Shivering a little in the chilly air, he clumsily crawled out of his cozy nest of blankets and down to the foot of the bed. The fire had died down to coals, but the oil lamp provided enough light for him to see around the room. He absently fingered the bandage that covered his knee while he thought. Ethan had told him not to walk on his injured leg, but he needed the privy. Surely the man hadn't meant he couldn't use the privy when he needed to.

He eyed the cabin door speculatively. It wasn't that far away. If he held onto the wall until he was directly across from the door, he should be able to make his way over to it without falling. Sliding from the bed, he stood wavering unsteadily for a moment, then placed one hand against the wall and used it for support as he slowly hobbled to a point opposite the door. It was only a few halting steps from there to the table and then a few more from the table to the door. He leaned against the wall next to the door to catch his breath and rest his aching knee, then took Ethan's coat from its peg and draped it over his shoulders. Ethan wouldn't deny him the use of the coat to go to the privy, he decided confidently. He was coming right back, after all, and it would dry before the man even knew it had been borrowed. Glancing back to make sure the rancher was still asleep, he silently slipped the bar from across the door and opened it.

A wet, freezing gust of wind hit him directly in the face, taking his breath away and making him lose his grip on the door. The storm had arrived full force, whipping sheets of icy rain and sleet in its path. Thoughts of the privy momentarily forgotten, he struggled to close the door against the uneven gusts of wind without losing his unsure balance. A big hand reached over him to aid him in his struggle, easily pushing it shut,and he looked up into furious brown eyes.

"Where do you think you're going, little boy?" Ethan asked him sternly as he took the coat and hung it back on its peg.

"T-to the pr-privy," Jared stuttered, shivering in the cold draft by the door.

Ethan picked him up and carried him back to the bed, then pulled a chamberpot out from under it.

"I'm not using that," Jared objected vehemently. "I'm not-"

"I know," Ethan interrupted. "You're not a little kid."

"Then stop treating me like one." Jared flared angrily. "I can go to the privy. I don't need no chamberpot."

"You're not going outside in this weather," Ethan declared.

"Then I'll wait!"

"Fine. But you'd better not have an accident in my bed."

Angry brown eyes warred with stormy gray ones, then, muttering rebelliously, Jared lifted his nightshirt and sat down on the chamberpot, glaring angrily at Ethan. If he said one word...

Ethan bit back a smile as he busied himself putting more wood on the fire in the fireplace and banking the one in the woodstove, trying to give the young spitfire a little privacy and dignity. The kettle was still warm and he partially filled a mug with water, then added milk and laudanum to it. When he heard the bed creak, he carried the mug over to it. Jared was sitting on the side of the bed, and Ethan placed the mug on the chest next to it, then covered the chamberpot and put it away before sitting down beside him.

"All done?" he asked conversationally.

Jared flushed and nodded uncomfortably, looking down at his feet.

"How does your knee feel?"

Jared moved it, cautiously attempting to bend and straighten it. "Pretty good. It aches, but it don't hurt like it did before."

"Good," Ethan nodded, then yanked the unsuspecting youth face down over his lap and pushed the long nightshirt up to expose his butt.

"What are you doing?" Jared cried out indignantly. "Let go of me!"

Ethan effortlessly held the wildly kicking young man in place with one hand. "I told you-"

SMACK!

"not to walk"

SMACK!

"on that leg."

SMACK! SMACK!

"You'd better start listening to me, little boy!"

As quickly as he had found himself over Ethan's knee, Jared found himself back upright on the bed.

"Oww!" he complained, gingerly rubbing his injured bottom. "That hurt!"

"It will hurt more if you don't start listening to me," Ethan told him pointedly. "Now sit back against the pillows and drink your milk."

Jared sullenly did as he was told, holding the mug in both hands and taking small sips so that Ethan wouldn't take it away from him. He was *not* going to let that man feed him again. When the mug was empty, he handed it back to Ethan and slid down flat in the bed. Pulling the quilts up around his shoulders, he closed his eyes with a sleepy murmur of contentment. They popped back open a moment later as he felt a weight on the side of the bed and a cold draft where the covers had been pulled back; Ethan was sitting on the side of the bed clad only in his longjohns.

"What are you doing?" Jared asked, sitting up in alarm.

"I'm getting into bed," Ethan told him as he lay down and tugged at the quilts Jared had wrapped around himself.

"But I'm sleeping here!"

"So am I," Ethan informed him. "Now lay down. You're letting in a draft."

"I'm sleeping on the floor then!" Jared attempted to throw back the bedcovers and clamber over the older man, only to find himself being pushed back down onto the bed.

"You'll sleep where I put you, little boy," Ethan told him firmly. "Now lay down and close your eyes before your butt feels my hand again."

"I'm not a little boy."

"Then stop acting like one and go to sleep."

Jared glowered at him resentfully, then did as he was told, pressing back against the wall to put as much space between them as possible and make his objections to the arrangement clear.

Ethan ignored his sulking, blowing out the lamp and settling himself comfortably on his side of the bed. Soon the only sounds to be heard were the crackle of the fire and the faint hiss of sleet on the roof overhead.

~~~

The next time Jared opened his eyes it was morning and he was alone in the bed.

"Ethan?" he called out tentatively. "Are you there?"

There was no answer and once again he crawled to the foot of the bed and sat looking around. The cabin was warm and the aroma of fresh coffee filled the air, but the intimidating rancher was nowhere to be seen.

As Jared debated the wisdom of getting up, the cabin door slammed back against the wall with a bang and a blast of icy cold air swept into the room, followed by Ethan. Rivulets of water ran from his slicker to puddle on the floor and more rainwater dripped from the brim of his black Stetson. He closed the door behind him and dropped an armload of wood into the woodbox by the stove, then turned toward Jared.

"Jared, are you *trying* to get your butt blistered?" he asked as he saw the young man sitting on the end of the bed.

"I didn't walk on it," Jared assured him anxiously. "I didn't even get up. I was just looking around."

"As long as you weren't thinking about walking around." Ethan put his hat on its peg and hung the dripping slicker next to it.

"Must be raining pretty hard," Jared awkwardly tried to change the subject.

"Hard and steady," Ethan replied. "I'm not going to be able to make a crutch today, the wood's too wet, but you can't go out in this weather anyway. You ready for some breakfast? I think you can probably handle some scrambled eggs this morning."

"Yeah. You have chickens?" he asked in surprise.

"They came with the place," Ethan replied as he wrapped a quilt around the slight young man and carried him to the table. "Along with almost everything else you see. The people I bought the ranch from included everything but their clothes in the deal."

Jared watched avidly as his keeper scrambled the eggs and put them on two plates, setting one in front of Jared and the other across the table from him.

Jared looked from the coffee at Ethan's place to the milk at his own, and his mouth set in the mulish pout that Ethan was already growing to recognize.

"Not yet, little boy," he anticipated the request. "Let's see how you do with the eggs and milk before you start trying to drink coffee."

Jared considered arguing, but the eggs were too hard to resist. He picked up his fork and hungrily devoured the first few bites, then cried out in protest when the plate was taken away, grabbing desperately for it.

"Slowly," Ethan warned him, holding the plate out of his reach. "It isn't going anywhere, and if you gulp it down like that, you'll be sick again. You either slow down or I'll feed it to you."

"I'll slow down," Jared promised earnestly, anxious gray eyes glued to the plate. "Can I have it back now? Please?"

Ethan set the eggs back in front of him and he picked up his fork again and ate as slowly as he could, trying to use the table manners his mother had taught him. He was rewarded by an approving nod, and flushed self-consciously, surprised at how good it made him feel.

When he had finished his breakfast, he sat back and watched as Ethan stacked the dishes, then got a piece of beef from the cold cellar under the cabin. "What are you making?" he asked curiously as Ethan began cutting the meat into chunks and dropping them into a large kettle.

"Beef and barley soup. I think your stomach will tolerate it better than beans or stew."

"Oh." He continued to watch critically as Ethan covered the meat with water and set it on the back of the stove to simmer. "Don't you have an onion to put in it? Or some carrots? It would be better if you put onion and carrots in it."

"You know how to cook?" Ethan asked skeptically.

"Some things. I always helped. . . I've worked at it some." Jared ducked his head and mumbled evasively.

Ethan silently found an onion and a couple of carrots and chopped them into the kettle, wondering again where the kid had come from. He wouldn't press the issue at the moment, he thought, but they were going to have a serious talk a little later.

He washed his hands, then turned back to the table. "Let's get you back to bed now, and let me have another look at that leg."

He tried to be as gentle as he could, but the young man was still sweating and fighting back tears by the time he had cleaned the infected wound again, and examined the bruised and swollen knee.

"I'm going to go ahead and splint it," Ethan told him at last. "But let's put a cold compress on it and see if we can bring the swelling down a little more first."

He helped Jared sit up against the pillows, then folded a quilt and put it under the knee to elevate it.

"Do I have to stay in bed? Can't I sit in the rocker?" Jared asked him plaintively, resigned to the fact that he was going to have to obey this man's dictates for a while.

"Later," Ethan promised. "You need to keep it propped up while the compresses are on it, but after I splint it you can get up for awhile."

~~~

Ethan sat in the big leather chair, his book open on his lap, dark eyes staring into space as his mind wandered.

The rain still poured down and he spared a sympathetic thought for the poor cowboys out riding in the storm or sitting huddled around a campfire. Here in the cabin it was snug and warm, a cheerful fire crackling in the fireplace, the appetizing aromas of soup and fresh bread filling the air. His captive hummed absently to himself as he played endless games of patience with the worn deck of cards Ethan had found for him.

He had let Jared sit in the rocker for a while, but the young man had quickly tired of sitting with nothing to do. He had willingly moved back to the bed where he could spread his cards out, and now sat with his knee elevated and sipped comfrey tea as he played. He looked up as if aware of Ethan's eyes on him.

"What are you reading?" he asked curiously.

"What? Oh." Ethan started and looked down at the book in his lap. "Antigone. It's a play by Sophocles."

"Oh," Jared said blankly.

"It's a Greek play," the dark-haired man explained patiently.

"Oh," Jared said again. "It sounds. . . interesting."

His tone was flat, and Ethan suppressed a smile. Obviously Jared didn't care for classic literature.

"Are you tired of playing cards? I can probably find a book for you if you'd like to read for a while."

"No, that's all right," Jared demurred. "I don't care much for reading. I'd rather play cards."

"My mother used to read to us on stormy days. Would you like me to read to you?" Ethan offered impulsively. Even as he spoke, he was regretting the words. The boy had just said he didn't care much for reading, that he'd rather play cards.

Prepared for rejection, he was surprised by the shy smile that graced Jared's face. "Would you? I'd like that."

Ethan found a book on the shelf that he thought Jared would enjoy and joined him on the bed. Soon they were sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, engrossed in the adventures of Robin Hood and his merry men.

Ethan read several chapters to his appreciative audience, enjoying the play of expressions that crossed Jared's face as he listened intently; expressions that ranged from curious interest to worried concern as Robin was captured, to delighted laughter as the daring outlaw foiled the evil sheriff's plans once again.

"I think this is a good place to stop," he said as he marked his place and closed the book. "I need to check the stock and bring in more wood."

"Could we read more later?" Jared asked eagerly, then flushed and ducked his head. "That is, if you want to."

"After supper," Ethan promised. 'And after we've had a little talk about where you came from,' he added silently.

~~~

"Can we read now?" Jared asked as soon as Ethan cleared the supper dishes off the table.

"In a few minutes. We need to have a talk first, about where you came from and why you were out here all alone," Ethan informed him.

"I'm kinda tired, and my leg aches. I think I'd like to go to bed now." Jared started to rise from the table. "Maybe we can talk in the morning, all right?"

Ethan placed a hand on his shoulder, firmly pushing him back into the chair.

"Now, little boy," he ordered sternly. "You can go to bed when you've answered my questions."

He sighed as he saw the mulish pout reappear. The kid wasn't going to make this easy. Pouring himself a cup of coffee, he sat back down at the table across from the scowling young man.

"Jared," he inquired softly, "where are your folks? How did you end up out here all on your own?"

The young man folded his hands on the edge of the table and looked down at them in stubborn silence.

"Jared," Ethan leaned over and placed one finger under the obstinate chin, lifting it and looking into the stormy gray eyes. "Answer me, please."

There was a long pause, then Jared reluctantly began his tale.

"I never had no pa," he said, his voice so low that it could barely be heard over the rain on the roof. "And my ma's dead. They killed her."

"Who killed her?" Ethan asked gently, touched by the quiet despair in his voice.

He had the impression that Jared was pulling away, drawing into himself, even though physically he hadn't moved except to stare down at his hands again.

"My ma was a- a, she worked in a fancy house, a brothel. It's how she took care of us." He looked up at Ethan defiantly, obviously expecting scorn and rejection.

"In Solitude?" Ethan named the town closest to him.

"For a while. We moved around a lot. Sometimes she'd have one man for a while, but they never wanted a kid around, so we always ended up back in a house. Then, 'bout a year ago, she took up with Fletch Dutton, and he moved us up to his hideout."

Ethan recognized the name. Dutton was an outlaw, notorious for the number of banks he'd robbed and the men he'd killed in the process.

"I never rode with him and his gang. I was friends with some of them and I helped out around the camp, earning my keep, but I never rode with them and I never robbed nobody. I swear it. I didn't even want to be there, but I couldn't leave my ma. I had to stay with her, to take care of her." He fidgeted with a spoon left on the table, eyes pleading for understanding even as he cringed back as if expecting a blow.

Ethan put his large hand over the two restless ones. "It's all right, little boy. I understand. Of course you had to stay with her. Then what happened?"

"Dutton pulled off a big job. He was braggin' about how he'd lost the posse. He said they was a bunch of stupid hicks and they'd never find his hideout. Only they did. They took out his guards, then rode through the camp, yellin' and shootin' at anything that moved. I was out behind the cabin and they didn't see me at first. Ma, she ran out on the porch to see what was goin' on and one of them shot her in the chest. Point-blank. He had to have seen she was a woman, and unarmed, but he shot her anyway. She fell..." He paused, swallowing hard, unable to continue.

"It's all right, Jared," Ethan said gently. "Take your time."

"I started running, trying to get to her. I thought if I could stop the bleeding, maybe. . . Anyway, he saw me and started shooting my direction and I tripped and fell. I guess I hit my head when I fell, cause the next thing I knew it was starting to get dark, and my ma, she wasn't on the porch anymore. I snuck over to where everybody was, in the big clearing where Dutton held his meetings with his men. They had a bunch of the gang prisoners and they was making them dig graves. I saw... I saw them wrap my ma in a blanket and put her in one of them."

He paused again, shuddering, and, following a sudden impulse, Ethan knelt by his chair, putting an arm around his shoulders and stroking his hair. "It's all right, little boy. Take your time."

Jared struggled for control until he was able to continue his story. "I moved, or cried out, or something, and one of them saw me. I ran. That's when I fell in the rocks and hurt my knee. They looked for me, but they couldn't find me in the dark. I laid there all night, and in the morning, after they'd left, I found myself a crutch and went back again. I thought there might be something I could use, but they'd taken or burned everything. There wasn't nuthin' left. Then I thought maybe I could follow their tracks and get back to town. I know Estelle, that runs the house in Solitude, and I thought she might be able to give me a job or something. But I lost their trail and I kinda got turned around. I tried to snare some rabbits, but I'd lost my knife so I couldn't dress 'em out, and I didn't have any way to start a fire, so they wasn't much use to me. I found some nuts and berries, but not very many. I was gettin' pretty hungry when I found your cabin. Otherwise, I wouldn't have stole from you. I swear. My ma didn't bring me up to steal from people." He pushed himself upright, his voice rising in his agitation.

"Shh, shh," Ethan pulled him back against his chest. "It's all right, little boy. I understand."

"Why did he have to kill her?" the young man whispered. "He had to know she was a woman. He had to see that she didn't have a gun. She wasn't hurtin' nobody. My ma never hurt nobody in her whole life." He struggled with his grief, but suddenly all of the horror and pain of the last few weeks caught up with him. Tears streamed down his cheeks, his chest heaving with his sobs.

Ethan held him as he cried, stroking his back wordlessly. Finally the tears slowed to a trickle, then stopped as the young man slept, exhausted by his outpouring of grief and pain.