Chapter 9

Ethan slid out of bed, letting out as little warmth as possible, and tucked the quilts back around his sleeping lover. The young man was no longer as thin as he'd been when he arrived, but he was still slight and he felt the cold. The older man built up the fires, dressing quickly in the chilly air, and went out to do the chores. There would be time enough to wake Jared after that.

When he came back in, Jared was lying on his stomach, head turned toward the wall, back and shoulders bare where he had pushed the covers away. Ethan started to awaken him, then gave into temptation. He leaned down and kissed one soft shoulder.

The younger man stirred and mumbled, but didn't open his eyes.

Ethan smiled and planted a series of small kisses down Jared's back, ending just above the quilt.

The hips wiggled slightly, shoving the blankets further down.

Oh, not as sound asleep as he seemed, Ethan chuckled. Leaning down, he left another trail of small kisses down the exposed back, again stopping at the edge of the quilt.

Jared grinned wickedly as he kicked the covers down around his knees. "There," he invited. "Now stop at the quilt."

Ethan laughed again, and stripped off his clothes before planting a kiss on one of the bared cheeks. "Love you," he said simply, then nipped lightly at the other one.

"I love you, too." The young man smiled and stretched lazily, aware of the appreciative gaze, then spread his legs slightly, exposing himself to Ethan.

"Good," the big man said, rolling away from his lover and reaching for the bottle of oil they kept on the chest next to the bed. He poured a small amount on his hand and coated his rapidly hardening cock. Rolling back, he trailed an oiled finger down Jared's spine before dipping down to the slightly exposed opening. Teasing the opening with his fingers, he kissed one of the bare shoulders.

Jared moaned and opened his legs wider. Rolling over onto his side, he pulled his leg up, fully exposing himself to the questing fingers. Leaning his head back, eyes closed, he rested it on the hard chest of his lover behind him. "That feels soooo good."

"Does it, little boy?" Ethan asked, his voice husky, plunging his fingers inside as he gently nipped and suckled the exposed neck.

Jared reached behind him with one hand and gripped Ethan's head, holding it to his neck in a clear signal not to stop. The other hand reached up and gently teased a nipple into a hard point before moving down his stomach sensually, stopping at his cock. The mixed feelings of Ethan's mouth on his neck and moving fingers inside him soon had him hard. "Inside me, now, please," he requested softly, not wishing to break the magical mood that had filled the room.

"Yes," Ethan whispered. He removed his fingers and moved closer, positioning the head of his cock against the waiting opening. As he pushed through the slight resistance of Jared's muscle, he bit down on Jared's shoulder, teasing the flesh with his mouth.

"Oh, God, Ethan," Jared breathed, pushing back against the big man.

With his free hand, Ethan pushed Jared's hand away from his cock and began to pump it, the oil on his hand keeping the motion smooth and easy. Rocking back and forth, he moved his own cock within the warm, moist passage and it wasn't long before he felt Jared's balls contract and spill seed over his hand. That, plus the low moan that Jared gave as he came, pushed Ethan over the edge seconds later. They lay there, entwined in each others' arms and legs, Ethan still buried deep inside the smaller body, until they both drifted into sleep.

"Ethan," Jared said sometime later. He had turned in his sleep and his voice was muffled against the older man's chest.

"Mmmm?" the man sighed lazily, pulling Jared a little higher and cupping the firm butt with one hand.

Jared shivered with desire, but managed to remember what he had been going to say. "The fire's gone out."

"Give me a few minutes and I'll get it back."

"Not that one," Jared chuckled. "The one in the fireplace."

"HELL!" Ethan sat bolt upright, dislodging Jared in the process.

"Wha'?!" the young man asked indistinctly, gingerly running his tongue over the lip he'd just bitten.

"I'm sorry, little boy." Ethan kissed the bruised lip. "But I told Damien we'd be there early this morning. He's going to wonder what happened to us."

"Hell," Jared agreed.

~~~~

An hour later, they were riding up the back trail to the neighboring ranch.

"What are you going to be doing today?" Jared asked.

"Cutting wood again," Ethan replied. "The winter has been mild so far, but Damien would like to have a couple more wagon loads, just in case. What do you and Gideon have planned?"

"Stacking the wood you cut yesterday." Jared made a face. "And marking where they're putting the garden in the spring, if we have time. Damien wants the ground turned and fertilized before it snows."

"Good idea," Ethan approved. "We ought to do the same thing. And maybe plant a couple of fruit trees in the spring, too. Maybe an apple and a cherry?"

"Could we plant a peach tree, too?" Jared asked. "I really like peaches."

Their talk turned to domestic issues until the path narrowed, and Ethan dropped back just a little to watch Jared's seat on Dulce. She was a good mare, spirited and willing, but not too much for the young man to handle. She was a little light for a cowhorse, but a good size for Jared, and one of the young man's favorites. She'd make a good Christmas present for him, Ethan decided. He needed a horse of his own, rather than just riding one that belonged to the ranch.

Damien was out in the barn, hitching up the team, when they arrived. "Go ahead into the cabin, Jared. Gideon is waiting for you."

Handing Dulce's reins over to Ethan, Jared slipped his rifle out of its sheath on the saddle and hurried up the path to the cabin. "Hey, Gideon," he said, rapping on the door as he opened it. "Damien said to come ahead in."

"Hi, Jared," the other man replied, wringing out a soapy cloth as he spoke. "Let me finish these dishes, then we can decide what we're going to do next."

"OK." Jared took off his coat and grabbed a towel to dry the dishes. "What do we have to do besides stack the wood and work on the garden?"

"Housework. And clean the trash out of the chicken coop. Damien says we're getting some of your hens."

"Yeah. We have more than we need and Ethan doesn't want to feed all of them through the winter. I asked him about the bear skin."

"Did he say you could trade it?" Gideon asked anxiously.

"He said he'd talk to Damien about it, but he doesn't mind. "

"Good," Gideon replied. "If you're sure you want to trade. These floors are awful cold in the morning.

"I'm sure. We have enough rugs, and I don't really want to see that bear every day anyway," he laughed.

There was a shout from outside, and they both dropped their cloths and went out onto the porch.

"We're leaving now," Ethan told them from his seat on Lucifer's back. "We'll be working in the oak grove on the other side of the creek, between here and home. Is lunch in my saddlebag or are you going to bring it?"

"We're going to bring it," Jared said. "We'll be ready for a break by then and we can eat with you."

"That's fine. We'll look for you about noon. And you behave yourself this morning, you hear? No trying to dam the creek or climbing on the roof to clear the chimney."

"Yes, Ethan," Jared replied, hanging his head. "We won't do either one again."

"That goes for you too, Mouse," Damien said sternly.

"Yes, Damien." Gideon's reply was equally meek.

They gazed after the older men until they had disappeared from sight, then went back in to finish the dishes before starting on the rest of Gideon's list. It took them most of the morning to cut the wood into stovelengths and stack it, and both were hot, tired and ready for a break by the time they'd finished.

"Whew," Gideon said, dropping onto the porch steps and taking his jacket off. "It's hard to believe we're going to need that wood when it's this warm."

"I know," Jared replied. "But the weather can change awful fast here. What do you want to do next? Garden or chicken coop?"

"You said you'd show me how to make apple cobbler," Gideon reminded him. "Let's take a break and do that next. We can do the garden and chicken coop after lunch."

~~~~

"This looks really good." Gideon admired the cobbler that was cooling on the table. I wish we could take some to them for lunch."

"Maybe we can." Jared thought for a minute. "Do you have a jar, like a canning jar?"

"In the pantry." He followed Jared into the small curtained area off the kitchen. "Try the top shelf. I think that's where we put the empty ones."

"Yeah, I can see them, but I can't reach them. Give me a boost, will you?"

Gideon obligingly gave him a leg up, and Jared pulled the jar and lid off the back of the shelf.

"We'll put the cobbler in this jar, and they can use their empty coffee cups for bowls. The cobbler will get kind of mixed up, but it will still taste good," he said as he carefully spooned the warm mixture into the glass jar. "Is everything else ready to go?"

"Yeah." Gideon added spoons to the pile on the table waiting to be put into the saddlebags.

"All right. I'll go saddle Dulce. We don't want to be late." He picked up his coat and rifle and started out the door.

"Why do you always carry your gun?" Gideon asked curiously. "Even just between here and the barn."

"Ethan," Jared said with a sigh. "He sees bogeymen under every bush."

~~~~

"It will be nice to have a horse of my own," Gideon sighed wistfully, mounted behind Jared on Dulce. He had the jar of apple cobbler carefully tucked under one arm while he clung to Jared's belt with the other hand.

"What did Damien say?" Jared asked as he threaded Dulce through the maze of rocks that led down to the ford in the creek.

"He said maybe in the spring, if the trapping is good this winter. He'll talk to Ethan about it."

"That would be great. I know just which one-- Oh, HELL!" he swore savagely as they came out onto the creek bank and he saw the ragged bunch of outlaws crossing the ford in front of them.

He jerked frantically on the reins, attempting to whirl Dulce and get her back into the shelter of the rocks.

"JARED! What--? Who--?" Gideon tried to hang on to Jared with one hand and the jar with the other and still keep his seat on the wildly plunging horse.

It was a losing battle. As he slid too far to one side, Dulce over-balanced and fell, throwing the hapless young man clear. He narrowly missed hitting a waist-high outcrop of rock, landing behind it with an ominous sound of shattering glass.

Jared kicked his feet from the stirrups, jumping clear as the horse went down, and grabbed the rifle from its sheath. He was on his knees, levering a round into the chamber as the panicked animal got to her feet and lunged away.

The next few moments seemed to pass very slowly and in great detail. There were almost a dozen of the surprised outlaws, attempting to control their own dancing and plunging horses as they reached for their guns, and he even had time to recognize several of them. There were Skeet and Muley and Clem, all former members of Dutton's gang, and each with a terrified young girl from Solitude clinging behind him. Elias Barstow, one of Dutton's lieutenants, was in the lead. He was a vicious man, cruel, and always looking out for himself first. Somehow it didn't surprise Jared that he had survived the raid on the outlaw camp.

He was the first to get his gun out, and Jared saw it come up and aim toward him, even as he pulled the trigger on the rifle. Then he was laying on the ground, propelled backward by the force of the bullet.

"Jared!" Gideon shouted frantically.

"Stay back, Gideon!" he yelled. "Don't let him get a clear shot at you!"

Gideon crouched in terror behind his rock, torn between running to help Jared and following the sensible command.

Jared closed his eyes, fighting against the searing pain in his chest and trying not to throw up. He knew had to do something to keep them from shooting him again, and Gideon along with him, but his normally agile mind felt as if it were filled with mush.

"Come out of those rocks, boy, before I shoot your friend again," Barstow yelled.

"No, Gideon, don't! Stay there!" Jared cried again, struggling to his knees. His left arm was numb and totally useless. He cradled it against his body and pressed his right hand to the bullet hole in his shoulder. He thought the sheepskin lining of the coat must be absorbing most of the blood, he could still feel a trickle between his fingers as he tried to put pressure on the wound.

"NOW, boy," Barstow shouted, raising his pistol and aiming it at Jared.

Gideon slowly rose to his feet and came out from behind the rock, hands in the air.

"Search him," Barstow ordered one of the outlaws, then turned his attention back to Jared.

"Well, well, if it isn't Alyssa's bastard brat."

"Hello, Barstow. I see the posse missed you in their little round-up."

"It'll be a cold day in hell before they catch me," Barstow bragged with an evil grin, showing off his rotting teeth. He took off his hat and ran his hand through greasy shoulder-length hair. "I ain't gonna make the kind of mistakes that Dutton did."

"What are we going to do with them?" Pete, the tall, gaunt outlaw who was searching Gideon, asked.

Barstow spat. "We got enough hostages and a posse not far behind us. Shoot 'em. Let the posse know we mean business."

Gideon gasped, edging closer to Jared.

"Go ahead, shoot us," Jared said coolly.

"Jared!" Gideon protested in a strangled whisper.

"But if you do, you'll never know where Dutton's hoard is," the young man continued, ignoring the plaintive whisper, concentrating on keeping them both alive.

"What do you know about Dutton's hoard?" the outlaw demanded savagely.

"He might know where it is," Clem interjected. "If Dutton told Alyssa, she might have passed it on to him."

"I think the little bastard is lying. Dutton was a close-mouthed son of a bitch. I don't think he'd tell his woman where he hid the money, let alone her kid." Barstow spat again.

"Maybe not," Jared agreed. "But if you kill us, you'll never know, will you? On the other hand, if you let us live, *both* me and my partner here, we'll split it with you."

"You're bluffin', boy," Barstow snarled. "Shoot 'em, and let's get out of here."

"I dunno," Pete hesitated. "He's dressin' mighty good, compared to what he was before. Where'd he get those clothes and that rifle and that horse? None of them are cheap and the money had to come from somewhere."

"Wouldn't hurt to take them along," Muley offered. "And talk about it later. Once they're dead, they ain't gonna tell us nuthin'. And Dutton had quite a stash put away somewhere."

"Might make up for the money we lost on this botched bank job," Skeet added with a sullen scowl. "Ransom for these girls ain't gonna amount to much by the time we split it ten ways."

The other men nodded and murmured in agreement.

"I still don't think he knows anything," Barstow declared angrily. "But we don't have time to argue about it now. We still got a posse to lose. Pete, you get 'em back on that horse and let's get out of here. We can find out what they know later."

Pete caught the reins of the nervously side-stepping mare and led her over to the two young men. Jared put his right hand on the ground in an attempt to push himself up, then fell back with a gasp as his previously injured knee gave way under him. Apparently he had twisted it again in the fall. With an exasperated sigh, Pete grabbed him under his good arm and hoisted him to his feet and then into the saddle. Gideon scrambled up behind Jared before the slovenly outlaw could touch him, putting both arms tightly around the wounded man's waist as if desperate for physical contact.

As soon as Pete swung into his own saddle, they started off at a fast walk, closing in around the young men.

"Jared," Gideon hissed feverishly in his ear. "What are we going to do?"

"Well, for starters, see if you can get your hand high enough to get some pressure on my shoulder and stop the bleeding," Jared muttered back. "Then we go along with them and hope I can stall them long enough for Ethan and Damien to catch up with us."

He tried to sound encouraging for Gideon's sake, but he wasn't hopeful. Ethan and Fox wouldn't have heard the shot, between the rush of the creek and the wind blowing in the wrong direction. They wouldn't be missed until lunch was overdue, and by then it would be too late. Dutton had made a career out of losing posses instead of outrunning them, and Barstow had been one of his best men. It would take an excellent tracker to follow them, and, while Ethan had a lot of strong points, tracking wasn't one of them.

Gideon seemed to follow his thoughts. "Damien was a tracker for the Army," he whispered. "And he got commendations for it. If anyone can trail us, he can."