Disclaimer:None of these, well almost none of these, characters belong to me. Jim Ellison, Blair Sandburg, Simon Banks, and Cascade Washington belong to Pet Fly. The eleven orphans are based on characters that belong to Saban Entertainment. Aaron Stempel, the Bolt brothers, Captain Clancy and assorted denizens of Seattle Washington belong to Screen Gems Television. Teaspoon Hunter and Buck Cross belong to MGM Television and Ogiens/Kane Company. I am using them all without permission, with respect, and without being paid.

Notes, Timelines, etc.Yep, I'm nuts. This is a crossover, major AU for The Sentinel and Power Rangers, with brief visits from Here Come The Brides and The Young Riders. Despite the unconventional combination of fandoms, this is not intended as a parody or humor piece. I was raised watching westerns, but none of them seem to have much of a fanficiton following, and frankly, I just really LIKE the two fandoms that make up the core of this. Only the characters' names, basic personalities and physical likenesses are used from Power Rangers, no other aspects of the series. The concept of 'Sentinels' and 'Guides' are used from The Sentinel, and other characters from the series will be worked in as needed. As for Here Come the Bride and the Young Riders, for them this isn't even an AU. g There are a number of 'flashbacks' in this story, they are in italics (if I did the html correctly at least) and set apart by ** at the beginning and end. They should be obvious.

Series: Cascade Tribe

Warning, rating:Some mention and depiction of physical abuse of children and others, some rough language. Nothing really graphic, but a firm PG, just to be safe.

Author's Notes 2015: There are four stories in this series, I will post in the order written. And note other fandoms as they visit...Also, watch the italics, those should all be flashbacks.

Always Room for More

By Mele

Seattle, Washington, 1870

"Aaron said he'd meet us at his office around noon, right?" Blair asked as he and his friend and Sentinel, Jim Ellison, rode their horses along the deeply rutted road through the thick forest.

"Yep," the older man replied, his sharp eyes scanning the forest for signs of danger. Aaron Stempel had been a friend of his for twenty years, since their first chance meeting in San Francisco. With time and money to spare, the two young men had spent a glorious two weeks blowing off steam in the bustling young city, before parting ways; Aaron to return to Seattle to work in the booming timber business, Jim to take his chances in the great 'gold rush'. It was somehow quietly ironic that Aaron's path had led to relative 'riches', while Jim's path had led to a small farm, Blair, Hannah, and ten orphans to raise while living mostly hand to mouth on the proceeds from their crops and occasional odd jobs.

And Jim privately figured he was the one who got the better deal.

"Did he say he might have some information about Rocky's family?" Blair persisted, his hopeful look generating a sigh from his companion.

"He didn't mention it, but we can always ask. Didn't give any details about the job, either, just that it would pay well. Which usually means it's dangerous. We'll know more soon enough," Jim explained again, understanding his companion's desire to find some solid information about the whereabouts of one of their charge's family.

The younger man opened his mouth to comment only to be cut off by his friend's raised hand. "Chief, hold that thought. We've got company," Jim hissed, tension apparent in his posture.

"Where?" Blair asked, Sentinel soft.

"Up ahead, on the road. Drop back a bit," Ellison instructed his companion.

Years of traveling and working together had resulted in their being completely in tune with each other and each able to depend on the other to do as asked to do in situations. Jim was the gunman between them; in unknown circumstances he took the lead, with Blair backing him up. Excess words were unnecessary at this point, both knew from long experience what was expected and required.

Stopping in what he deemed a defensible location, Jim stretched out his hearing to assure himself that only the riders he heard coming in front of him were in the area. Finding no other sounds to indicate other people about, he fixed his intense gaze on the road ahead just as four riders came around the bend. They were all obviously local lumbermen; the distinctive work clothes were unmistakable. A closer look revealed a pair of familiar faces, and without prompting Blair nudged his horse up beside Jim's, a smile already crossing his face.

"Josh! Jeremy! It's good to see you!" the young man called out as answering smiles graced the two youngest Bolt brothers' faces.

"Hey Blair! Jim. So are YOU who Aaron got to do the purchase? He said the buyers would be arriving today at noon," Josh commented, running a distracted hand through his white-blond hair.

"Well, he said he had a job for us, we don't know any details yet," Jim replied genially enough, while still maintaining a bit of cautious distance. He knew relations between Aaron and the Bolts were far better than they had been in the past, but his first loyalty remained with Aaron Stempel.

"It's probably that job, then, which makes us feel a lot better," the blond smiled, glancing at his younger brother. "Jason is still there with Aaron, ready when you are. We have a big shipment going out today, so we had to head back, but I'm glad we at least got to say 'hi'." Josh finished, reaching out to shake the Sentinel's hand.

A quick round of handshakes, then the two parties separated again, heading in opposite directions though the fragrant forest. At a quarter to twelve, Jim and Blair rode up to the hitching post outside Aaron Stempel's main office and tied their weary mounts to the wooden railing. Jim reached out to knock only to have the door open to reveal his old friend; hale, hearty, and smiling widely.

"Jim! It's good to see you!" The strong handshake was the precursor to a quick, hard hug as the two big, tough outdoorsmen gave hasty vent to their fondness for each other. "And Blair, you still hanging around with this loser?" he teased the smaller man, shaking the proffered hand heartily.

"What can I say? He pays well," Blair joked, grinning as he shook Jason Bolt's hand as well. With fresh cups of coffee in hand the four men settled around Aaron's gleaming desk to discuss why Ellison and Sandburg had been contacted.

"We had this idea for some modifications to the mills to speed up production," Jason began to explain, spreading out some paperwork over the desk as he spoke.

"'WE' had this idea?" Jim queried, looking between the two former rivals curiously.

"Yes, Jim, 'WE'," Aaron assured him. "I won't bore you with the details, but it involved a quantity of gin, a bit of a ruckus at Lottie's, and a long night in the local jail. The bottom line is that we had both been considering similar modifications, but couldn't solve a couple of nagging problems, until we worked together," he clarified.

"There's more than enough business for two successful lumber mills, and this way we split the cost AND the potential profit," the eldest Bolt brother added.

"So, where do we come into this?" Blair wondered.

"We drew up the plans, and sent them to a factory in California, who assured us they could develop the equipment. It's ready to go, but they want their money up front, and we have no way to know if they've done a good job or not. We need you to travel to Eugene to meet the train they're shipping it on. You would inspect the machinery, check that all seems right, and deliver payment. Then you'd take the shipment to Portland, and deliver it to Clancy, who'll bring it on to Seattle."

"Seems straight forward enough. What's the catch?" Jim asked with a wry look at his old friend.

"Not really a catch, Jim. We trust you and Blair to do a good job inspecting the stuff, we'll give you a full rundown on what is expected. And, of course, there is the matter of the money you'll be carrying to pay them. $3,000.00 cash."

Blair whistled appreciatively. "Not exactly pocket change."

"No. The loss of that money could be…cataclysmic," Stempel agreed.

"Our fee?" Ellison asked.

"Five percent. Payable upon delivery."

"Half paid up front, half upon delivery. We need supplies; we can get them on the way. Should something happen, your money will be returned," Jim countered, his tone making it obvious that this point was NOT up for discussion.

There was a tense moment while the two loggers considered the situation, then Aaron held out his right hand to Jim. "Deal."

Another round of handshakes settled the deal, and the two visitors spent the rest of the day being briefed on the equipment they were picking up, and collecting the funds they were to deliver four days hence. Despite the busy afternoon, Jim and Blair respectfully declined the invitation to spend the night, preferring to get underway immediately.

"So, you think something is fishy about this job?" Blair asked curiously once they were well out of the vicinity of Aaron's camp.

"Not especially, Chief. I just don't think it's a good idea to spend the night there, just in case. Too many people, too many sounds, too distracting. Out here alone, if someone approaches I have a chance of hearing them long before they're on us. You know all that," he concluded with a slightly puzzled frown.

"Yeah, I guess I just expected you to want to visit with Aaron more, talk about old times like you usually do," his companion noted.

"Not this time, Chief. He has his life, and it's a good one. For him. I have mine, and I'm more than content with that," the Sentinel noted quietly.

Blair considered his friend curiously, his quick mind and generous heart analyzing what his older friend had just said, and – more importantly – what he HADN'T said. "But?" he prompted.

"But nothing, Sandburg. Let it go."

"Is it because he's ended up so successful in business, and now you're hiring out to him, when you two had all those grand plans when you first met?" he prodded softly, knowing he'd hit the mark when his friend winced at his words.

"You don't pull you punches, huh, Chief?" the big man commented ruefully, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly. "Okay, yeah. I'd be happier if we were on more level financial ground. Happy now?" he grumbled, sounding a little less tense despite himself. Damned if the kid didn't know just how to get him to work out his feelings.

"Ecstatic," Sandburg replied dryly. "Besides, Jim, you have way more than he'll ever have. You're a Sentinel with your own tribe," the longhaired man grinned merrily. "It's a kinda short tribe, but it's a tribe nonetheless."

The Sentinel snorted out a burst of involuntary laughter. "Yeah, looks like they're all going to be more your size than mine. Well, maybe Tommy will shoot up, but he's the only one."

"You mean you don't expect you and Kimberly will see eye-to-eye when she's full grown?" was the teasing question.

"Not unless I'm kneeling," Jim snickered, thinking of the tiny girl who they'd taken in over a year before, following her mother's death. "But, you know, that's why it bothers me I can't earn a steady income. If we didn't take this job, how would we ever afford shoes for the kids for this winter? And food and supplies? I get a cold chill just thinking how bad it would be if we lost our crops to insects or something. I don't worry about me, or even you, if things go wrong, but the kids. They're so dependent on us…" he voice trailed off as he looked away, slightly embarrassed at his uncharacteristic display of emotions.

"Jim, you have to believe, they'll be fine, no matter what. You know the folks in Cascade would help out if there was a disaster. And the kids? Well, let's face it, they're survivors. Small they may be, but when it comes to tough, I'd put my money on them every time," the young man grinned.

"I'm sure Katherine would be thrilled to hear you describe her as 'tough'," Jim grinned, thinking of their oh-so-proper Australian-born charge.

"Heh, Jim, she's the toughest cookie of them all, don't let that sweet face fool you," Blair laughed, pleased to see his companion's eyes crinkle in amusement. "But, in all seriousness, I feel sorry for Aaron. He's alone in that grand new house of his, and his men can't be any sort of substitute for a family, even an adopted one."

"Yeah, I know you're right, Chief. I just see folks like him with more money than he really needs, and think of all the things I'd like to get the kids, and it's not that I begrudge him his wealth, I mean he's worked for it…" Ellison shrugged uncomfortably, then quirked a quick half-grin. "Okay, I DO begrudge it."

"There you go, Jim! It's like Reverend Taggart said, 'and the truth shall set you free'!" he declared, moving his horse sideways to avoid Jim's swat with the ease of long practice.

"That does it, Junior, tonight it's your turn to cook."

TSPRTSPR

It was four full days of travel to reach Eugene, where they were to meet the shipment and inspect it before taking it off the train and beginning the journey to Portland. Jim took care of renting a wagon and team of horses, while Blair met the representatives from the manufacturer and started the inspection. Intrigued by the new technology, the inspection ended up dragging on for several hours as Blair found he'd met his intellectual equal in the two young men who'd helped design the devices. By the time it had been declared satisfactory, loaded into the wagon, and paid for they found they would barely have time to get ten miles outside town before making camp for the night.

"I have to admit, Jim, I'm glad to be rid of that money. I can't believe we didn't have any trouble on the way," Blair sighed as they relaxed after dinner, sipping coffee and watching the small fire dance in the deepening shadows.

"Yeah, guess we don't look like the sort to be carrying that kind of money around," the older man agreed, shifting so he could add another piece of wood to the waning blaze.

"Gee, imagine that!" the smaller man grinned, tossing his dregs out before settling down on his bedroll. "Three days to Portland?"

"Yeah, should be. We meet Clancy in four, so we have a small margin for problems, though I expect that he'll be there earlier. I'm frankly more worried about someone being after this equipment than I was about the money. If it does what it's supposed to, this stuff could make someone a fortune over a few years. We can't leave it unattended, especially in a town or near a main road," the Sentinel stressed, not for the first time.

"No worry about that. The route you chose, we won't see civilization – and I use that term loosely at best – until day after tomorrow," his companion grumbled good-naturedly, settling himself comfortably.

"Night, Jim."

TSPRTSPR

Sheriff Sam Parknoy was enjoying a peaceful early morning cup of coffee when his door burst open to reveal a young boy who appeared to be terrified, his clothes tattered and dirty.

"Whoa there, son. What's after you?" he asked, placing gently restraining hands on the small shoulders of the distraught child.

Frightened green eyes met his concerned gaze before flicking back to look out the door worriedly. One small, dirty hand patted lightly at the delicate throat, the simple gesture eloquent enough; the boy was mute.

"All right, all right. Can you show me what's wrong?" Sam requested in a gentle voice. He was a large man, but there wasn't a child or dog within a hundred mile radius that hadn't discerned the truth as soon as they met Sam; the man was a total softie.

A rapid nod and a quick grasp on the big hand, and the small boy was tugging the sheriff out the door and toward the side alley, gesturing frantically. The child stopped and indicated a doorway, his wide eyes looking up at Sam imploringly, making it clear that he was afraid of whatever was inside.

"You stay right here, okay, boy? I'll check this out. If folks have been hurting you, I'll make sure it stops. You don't need to be afraid." He opened the door cautiously, poking his head in to look around, completely vulnerable to the blow from above that dropped him down swiftly into darkness.

"Get back to the horses, kid," one of the two men who emerged from the door ordered, kicking out at the child as one might at an annoying stray dog. "You get the key, Earl?"

"Right here, Mike. Damn, like taking candy from a baby. Now, let's go get the cash and get the hell out of here."

TSPRTSPR

"You think we're being followed?" Blair asked as Jim returned from yet another circuit of their camp. The day had passed very quietly, the horses plodding along in a pace that seemed incredibly slow, but ate the miles without seeming effort. They were right on schedule, figuring to hit Salem the next day, late morning or early afternoon. From that point on they would be following a well-traveled route, a situation that offered both increased danger and increased safety.

"I'm not certain. We could be. It's damned difficult to be certain if they don't talk, and so far I haven't heard any voices. A few snorts that sound like horses, but no voices. It could be Indians just checking us out, could be a family traveling, something innocent like that. Or it could be someone wanting this equipment. We'll just have to wait and see, Chief."

"In that case Jim, would you please do me a favor?" the young man asked calmly.

"Sure."

"Sit down!" Blair snapped, grinning a little at his friend's mildly shocked expression. "You're making me nervous, pacing around like that."

The big man gracefully lowered himself to a seated position, but there was nothing restful about his posture; to Blair he resembled nothing so much as a big cat ready to pounce on the next thing that moved.

"Oh, yeah, Jim, that's much better," he snorted softly, giving his companion a worried look. "Have you tried sending your hearing out to the maximum?" he queried.

"No, you've told me often enough not to do that without your help, and since the last time, when I zoned so badly, I've been a little uncomfortable trying," the Sentinel admitted.

His guide looked at him with mild annoyance and disapproval, even as he shifted to sit closer. "Jim, how many times have I told you that you need to TELL me these things? Now, come on, this is actually the perfect chance. I want you to close your eyes and focus on your hearing, blocking out the meaningless sounds, and gradually dialing the sense up until it's at maximum. Do NOT attempt to use any of your other senses, and if you think you're losing control, STOP. I'm right here, I won't let you zone. Now try it, gradually…" the soothing timbre of Sandburg's voice lulled Jim into a light trance-like state as he gathered his considerable mental discipline and sent out his hearing in search of possible danger on the back trail.

Though in his mind's eye he was reaching out toward the way they'd come, in truth his hearing was extending in all directions, so he was unprepared for the sudden scream that came, not from whence they came, but from south of them. The shrill shriek cut through the Sentinel's head like a knife, and he hastily dialed down his hearing even as he clapped his hands over his ears.

"What's wrong? What'd you hear?" Sandburg asked anxiously, shifting so he was kneeling in front of Ellison, rubbing his hands soothingly over the broad shoulders.

"You didn't hear it?"

"No, I haven't heard anything," Blair replied.

"A scream…a woman or a child, I couldn't tell which. Came from that way," the big man said, heaving himself to his feet and staggering a bit.

"Whoa, Jim, you okay?" Blair hastened to steady his friend, peering worriedly up into the pale face before him.

"Fine, Chief. Come on, whoever it was, they need help," the older man declared, picking up his saddle and walking briskly toward his mount despite the slight unsteadiness of his gait.

"We taking the wagon or leaving it here?"

"Leave it. I didn't hear anyone back there, nothing conclusive at least. If it gets taken, we'll track it…" Ellison started, then paused, looking southward with a tense frown. "Move it Chief. Whoever it is out there, they may not have a lot of time."

Hastily tightening the cinch Blair scrambled on his horse and turned to follow his older friend, trusting Sentinel sight to guide them through the darkness. Seeing Jim stop from time to time and raise his head in his distinctive listening pose told the young man that they were still on the right trail, and that whoever Jim had heard was still making sounds.

It was a long time before Blair finally heard the faint sounds of someone crying out in pain, and once again he found himself impressed with Jim's abilities, and wishing there was some way to truly test his limits. But such thoughts were pushed aside when he heard another cry, this time clear and close enough to determine it was a child being hurt, and badly from the sounds of it.

The two men dismounted, and with Jim in the lead crept up on a small campfire, wincing when they heard yet another cry. Concealed by the tress and darkness, they took in the scene before them with cold fury.

Two men dressed in rough clothing sat beside a roaring fire, a bottle of whiskey between the. Two bedrolls were spread out just behind them, a couple of saddles and assorted packs were piled nearby, and two horses could be seen tied to a far tree. For all appearances, a perfectly normal camp.

Except for the naked boy hanging from his wrists to the left of the fire.

To Blair's experienced eyes, the child appeared to be perhaps seven or eight years old, blondish hair and skin so pale it seemed nearly translucent. He was thin to the point of emaciation, his ribs standing out like bruises against the whiteness. They could see a vast number of welts, some old, some new, criss-crossing the narrow back, and as they watched one of the men picked up a stick that had been laying with its tip in the fire. Before either Jim or Blair could react, the man pressed the glowing red end of the stick against the inside of the child's thigh, the resulting breathless scream sending both of the men by the fire into gales of drunken laughter.

"Wassa madder, boy? Gettin tired of our game?" the drunk slurred, returning the stick to the fire and reaching for the whiskey.

"Either of you make a wrong move and I will take great pleasure in putting a bullet through your head," Jim growled, stepping into the light and training his gun on the two men seated before him. "Blair, take care of him."

Fighting back rage and nausea, Blair hastened to release the ropes holding the child aloft, easing the battered figure to the ground as gently as he could. Shucking off his own jacket, he wrapped the shivering figure in its warm folds even as his eyes sought out clothing for the boy. All the while he kept up a running litany of comforting words to the youngster, wondering how much was being understood since it appeared the kid was only barely conscious.

Meanwhile Jim was fighting his own rage, trying not to think about how good it would feel to strike out at the two monsters before him with the same violence and ruthlessness they'd shown toward a defenseless youth not even half their size. His finger twitching on the trigger, he more than half wished one of them would make a stupid move and just give him an excuse to rid the world of some garbage.

"Both of you, keep your hands where I can see them, lay down face forward on the ground, hands behind your heads," the former soldier ordered, indicating to Blair he should move the boy back from the area a bit. If these two were as stupid as he suspected, they might actually try something.

As it turned out, his concern was well founded. Though it appeared at first that the prisoners were going to be reasonable, but the larger one had a small gun in a forearm holster, and he made his play as they shifted to lie down as ordered. His body hadn't even hit the ground when his partner grabbed for his sidearm only to be taken out before he'd even cleared leather.

"You two okay?" Jim asked, holstering his gun with a sigh.

"Fine. Wish he hadn't had to see that, though," Blair replied with a worried look at the shivering figure in his arms. "You see his clothes anywhere? He's freezing." Despite the bodies lying close by, Blair moved closer to the fire, trying to shield the sight of the dead men from the youngster in his embrace.

"Yeah, I think so. Give me a minute, and I'll build up the fire a bit more, too," the big man replied, stopping suddenly at the sound of distant gunshots. "You hear that?"

"Yeah," the younger man replied anxiously, peering out toward the darkness they'd just traversed. "Sounded like it came from the area of our camp, right?"

"Yep. Damn. We got to hurry, Chief," the Sentinel declared, grabbing the clothing he'd spotted moments before and moving to Blair's side. "Let me give him a quick once over." Sensitive hands probed the malnourished body with feathery gentleness, the muscle in the side of Ellison's face bunching into an angry knot as he cataloged the damage. The boy didn't respond in any manner to the examination, remaining pliant in Sandburg's arms, his green eyes open and dull, staring at nothing.

"Jim, maybe you should go back alone, it'd be faster," Blair suggested quietly as Jim finished.

"I thought of that, but it's a bad idea. If the wagon's been taken, it will take twice as long to recover if I have to come back here and retrieve you first, and no way am I leaving you alone out here with a hurt kid for any length of time. That's just asking for trouble. No, we'll load the bodies on their horses, and all go back together. Once we retrieve our equipment, we'll make haste to Salem, get this little guy looked at by the local doc, since you didn't come prepared for this sort of emergency. Find out if these two idiots were wanted criminals or just stupid bastards who enjoyed hurting children. Turn over whoever stole our stuff. But we stick together." As he spoke he'd been quickly wrapping the dead men in blankets and saddling their horses. Blair had managed to wrestle the clothing onto the trembling child, then wrapped his jacket back around him, settling him down by a large rock while he doused the fire and helped Jim secure the bodies. It was less than fifteen minutes after hearing the shots that the two men headed back toward their original camp, now accompanied by a small boy, two dead men, and two extra horses.

Blair held his still trembling burden as gently as he safely could, dividing his attention between the injured youngster and carefully guiding his horse in Jim's wake. Warmed by the adrenalin rush of the earlier confrontation, and distracted by his concern for their unexpected guest, he was fortunately unaware of the chill in the night air. Trusting his Sentinel to lead him true, the younger man was not paying attention to their surroundings, and consequently nearly ran into the back of one of the other horses when Jim called an unexpected halt.

"What's up Jim?" Blair whispered, knowing his Sentinel would be able to hear the soft words.

"Just listening," came the quiet reply. Shrugging to himself, Blair shifted the boy in his arms, wondering if the child had finally drifted off completely, and wishing there was light enough to tell.

A few moments later Jim started out again, his pace more purposeful somehow, less stealthy, and soon Blair caught a whiff of smoke from a campfire. The Sentinel didn't pause, but led the way into the clearing where they had earlier set up camp. All that remained, however, was the slowly dying fire. No wagon, no equipment, no horses; even their bedrolls were gone.

"Dammit all," Jim muttered, dismounting to check over the camp. "Stay back there, Sandburg, I don't need any more prints around here," he added irritably.

"Jim, calm down, okay? We'll find them, just like you said earlier. You KNOW you have more problems with your senses when you get upset. Just take some nice, calm breaths, and step back for a minute…Come on, you know the drill," the guide coached from the edge of the dismantled camp.

"Sandburg," the big man growled, his angry blue eyes meeting their calm counterparts in silent battle. Giving a last, frustrated groan, the Sentinel took a deep breath, holding it for a count of five, just as they'd practiced so many times. It took three such breaths before he felt the knot of anger holding his senses captive loosen. Finally in control again, he began a careful, painstaking sweep of the area, noting with satisfaction that the robbers weren't being particularly cautious. It appeared they figured the dark would hide their tracks for at least a few hours.

"Naturally, they have to be going in the opposite direction of where we want to go," Jim mumbled as he mounted his horse again and started out. "Keep close, Junior, I don't want to end up hunting around for you, too."

"Very funny, Jim. You just worry about the trail ahead, I'll watch your back. Quite literally, I'll watch your back," was the wry reply.

Tracking at night didn't present any particular problem to Sentinel senses, but it was still more dangerous than during the day, since the horses, and Blair, didn't have the same advantage Jim did. Hyper aware of the fact he had two other people and four horses to guide safely through the dark terrain, the tall man took pains to pick a careful path round hazards, by necessity slowing their progress. But, since their quarry wouldn't be expecting them to be following so soon, and would also be traveling without the benefit of enhanced vision, Jim figured they would overtake them about daybreak, barring unforeseen problems.

TSPRTSPR

"Okay, three men. We'll wait until they're all together," Jim told his partner when he returned from a quick recon of the temporary camp the thieves had set up. "Look, we need to stash the kid somewhere out of sight, then I want you to approach from the other side, as usual," he continued.

Blair nodded and went to the base of a nearby tree, where there was a natural hollow between the tree and a boulder. "Look, buddy, I want you to wait in there for us, okay? You'll be safe there, and don't come out, no matter what. Not until Jim or I come for you," he instructed the boy, not knowing if the child could hear or understand him. He situated the small body comfortably, tucking his jacket around him closely, hoping to keep him warm enough, then joined Jim in watching the makeshift camp.

"Circle around there – QUIETLY – Chief, then wait for my signal. I'm hoping this group is smarter than the last one was," Jim whispered, pointing to an area on the other side of the camp.

Blair nodded his agreement then set out silently to the indicated spot. Using his enhanced hearing, the Sentinel tracked his friend's progress, waiting for Sandburg's whispered 'ready' before stepping out into the circle of light, gun held at the with deceptive casualness.

"Now, gentlemen, it is truly a sign of your lack of class that you'd steal from others who are distracted by a mission of mercy. Where is your Christian charity?" the big man drawled laconically as the others jumped to their feet in surprise.

"I suggest you drop your weapons before someone gets hurt," Ellison continued, standing rock steady, his gun unwavering.

"How good you think you're going to do against three of us?" the apparent leader scoffed, his expression challenging.

"I figure I can take out two of you with no problem," Jim replied calmly.

"And whoever he doesn't take, I can," came Blair's calm voice, startling the three thieves.

"Guess you got us then," the leader mumbled, relaxing his stance a little before launching himself at his gun simultaneously with the man beside him, while the third man threw his cup of coffee in Sandburg's face, temporarily blinding the young man.

Ellison's first shot clipped one of them in the shoulder even as he threw himself toward a nearby tree for cover, checking quickly on Sandburg as he went. The smaller man was also attempting a hasty retreat, when he suddenly stumbled and seemed to grow a knife handle out of his upper arm. The nasty laugh from the third thief confirmed that he was the knife thrower; a laugh that was cut off abruptly by Jim's fatal shot to the neck.

"You got one wounded and one dead, pal. Ready to cut your losses? Or shall we go for broke?" Jim called out, hoping the idiot would take the wisest choice and give up; he could hear Blair's labored breathing and knew his friend was hurting badly.

Shifiting his attention away from his guide, Jim listened for the uninjured thief, eventually realizing the man was attempting to sneak up on Blair, presumably to force Jim's hand. Moving with the stealth of his spirit guide, the Sentinel set a trap for the trapper, bringing the muzzle of his gun to rest on the man's temple even as the thief was bringing up his weapon to bear on Sandburg.

"I win," Jim whispered before drawing back the gun and crashing the butt of it into the man's head with lightening speed. The thief fell soundlessly to the ground, blood already oozing from the gash on his head.

"Hang on a minute more, Chief, and I'll take care of you," Jim said quietly, then looked back out at the camp.

"You still out there, sport? You buddy here is taking a little nap, so if you show yourself now and save me the trouble of searching for you, that would be best," he called out. A moment later the wounded thief entered the clearing, his good hand held aloft after dropping is rifle where Jim could easily see it.

"Come here, turn around," Ellison ordered, grabbing a nearby piece of rope. He made quick work of binding his prisoner's hands, then considered the situation.

"You know, I should haul all three of you to town and hand you over to the sheriff, but that just sounds like too much work for now. So, instead, I think I'll turn you free, let you take your chances." He chuckled a bit at his idea, then pushed the prisoner to a seated position. Within minutes he's saddled the thieves' horses and bound the dead man to one, then hefted the unconscious leader on another, using rope to bind his legs to the stirrups, and his hands tightly behind him. Facing the tail end of the horse, just for entertainment value. He bound the injured prisoner the same way, then tied the three horses together.

"There you go, pal. You're pretty well off the beaten path, but someone may find you before thirst and hunger take care of you. Or maybe you'll figure out how to get free. In any case, it's not my problem. Just remember this; I EVER see any of you again, and I won't be as forgiving," Ellison growled, then smacked the nearest horse to get them on their way before dismissing them from his mind. He had more important matters to consider.

"Jim! Jim, come here!" Blair called, his voice coming from the area where they'd tied their horses, not where he'd left the injured man.

"Dammit, Chief, what are you doing wandering around?" he demanded, hurrying over to his upset partner.

"He's not here! He must have gotten scared with the gunfire and run off," the smaller man said, obviously upset, holding his jacket the boy had left behind. "Can you hear him?"

Jim took a quick listen, but didn't hear any sounds like that of a fleeing child. "Sorry, Blair, no. I'll go look for him as soon as I get you fixed up."

"Don't worry about me, just go find him!" Typically, Sandburg was more concerned everyone…anyone…else but himself.

Beginning to wonder if this night from hell was ever going to end, the older man just helped his best friend to his feet and led him to the fire, which he quickly stoked up. Looking at the knife embedded in the muscles of Blair's arm, the former army medic knew it was going to be a nightmare for Sandburg when he removed it. After a quick internal debate, he grasped the smaller man's upper arm and simply pulled the knife back out in one straight, steady pull.

"Arghhhhhh! Oh, DAMN, Jim! Thanks for the warning," Blair gasped out, his sweat beaded face pale in the firelight. "Oh, God, that hurt!"

"I know Buddy, I know. And warning you wouldn't have helped any. Now let me clean it out and fix you up," the Sentinel soothed his guide, carefully peeling the layers of shirts away from the injured arm and tipping water from his canteen over the bleeding wound. "You're not going to like it, but I'm going to have to disinfect it. I'll get the supplies. Hold this against it in the meantime."

Blair sighed unhappily, even as he looked out at the darkened wilderness beyond the firelight, worried about the boy they'd rescued. Jim settled back in beside him, wordlessly handing him a chunk of wood to bite on, before soaking a piece of cloth in alcohol.

The next few minutes were unpleasant in the extreme to both men as Blair fought against the urge to scream at the ungodly pain the cleaning was causing. Every touch of the cloth or liquid to the open wound burned like a brand, and by the time his friend was finished Sandburg was trembling with fatigue and pain, leaning weakly against a fallen log by the fire.

"You did good, Kid," Jim encouraged him, relieved to finally be binding the wound. "We'll still have a doctor look at it, as soon as possible, but I think you'll be okay." He knelt beside his exhausted friend, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Look, I'm going to leave you this gun, you just rest, and shoot anything that moves that isn't me, the kid, or one of the horses, okay? I'm going to go find our wayward charge."

"I'll be fine, Jim," Sandburg assured him, resting the gun in his lap and indicating the Sentinel should go ahead. With one last look at his injured companion, Jim set out in search of a small boy in a large wilderness.

It didn't take Jim long to discover that tracking a small child was considerably more difficult than tracking adults mounted on horses. The signs of the boy's passage were few, faint, and far between, and more often than not he found himself following the fading, distinct odor of the campfire smoke that had saturated the child's clothing. Having spent the last few hours using his senses on 'high', the Sentinel was getting fatigued, and he was frankly relieved for his own sake when he heard the boy's heartbeat coming from a thicket up ahead. Dropping to one knee, he carefully pushed aside the thorny bushes, suffering a number of stinging punctures in the process.

"Damn! Come on, Kid, get out of there. I don't have time for this," he said brusquely, his temper fraying with exhaustion and worry.

There was no reply from the child, and Jim started to crawl forward, intending to grab the boy and drag him out if necessary, when he got a good look at the youth. Shame suffused him as he realized the boy was nearly immobilized by fear, and he forced himself to relax his stance and speak gently.

"I'm sorry, I guess I'm looking at someone who's had an even worse night than I have, huh? But, Kiddo, Blair…my friend?…he's hurt, we need to get going, get him to a doctor. You too, actually. I'm not going to hurt you, I promise, but I really, really need for you to come out of there. The bad guys are all gone, at least for tonight, you'll be okay. And I can make a nice warm bed for you in the wagon, wouldn't that be nice? To be able to sleep somewhere soft and warm?" He rambled on, seeing the tension gradually ease in the small body. Wary green eyes met his, and Ellison forced himself to meet that questing gaze with as much gentleness as he could, wanting the boy to trust him. Suddenly it seemed very important this small, battered child trust Jim Ellison to take care of him.

After a seeming eternity, the boy cautiously moved forward, toward Ellison, who backed up, holding as much of the foliage away from them as he could. Emerging scratched, but otherwise unharmed, the youngster looked up at Jim questioningly.

"Camp is back that way. If I carry you it would be faster," he suggested quietly.

The boy's answer was an involuntary step backward, and the man understood that trust was going to have to be earned in this case. Acting on instinct, the big man simply nodded and indicated with his arm the direction they needed to head, then turned and started toward camp, letting the boy make to choice to follow.

That he tracked the child's every step was something the boy didn't need to know, Jim decided with an inward smile.

"You okay, Chief?" Jim called out when they finally reached the camp, mostly to alert Blair they were out there, since he'd already checked for problems and had found only the familiar heartbeat of his guide.

"Fine. You find him?" Blair asked anxiously, turning around where he sat to see Jim walking up with empty arms.

"I think we may have found a kid who can out-stubborn you," the big man grinned, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the boy behind him.

"I thought Tanya could out-stubborn me," the younger man challenged with an answering smile.

"Fine. ANOTHER kid who can out-stubborn you. Whatever," he capitulated before turning to his small shadow. "Listen, Buddy, you want to sit over there with Blair while I get us ready to go? Warm yourself up a little? Then that soft bed I promised, okay?" Without touching the youngster he herded him over to Blair, who pulled him onto his lap with easy familiarity, fussing quietly over the chilled child.

Sighing quietly, Jim set about hitching up the horses and tying the saddle mounts to the back of the wagon. He retrieved his and Blair's bedrolls and shifted the equipment around so he had room to make two small, cozy nests in the back of the wagon, one on each side. Checking his preparations one last time, he went back to the fire only to find both Blair and their guest were sound asleep.

Chuckling to himself at the sight, he cautiously removed the child from Sandburg's arms and tucked him into one of the beds, wrapping his securely in the blankets. Returning for Blair, Jim checked his friend's wound one last time, then with an ease that belied Blair's sturdy build, he carried the deeply sleeping man to the wagon and settled him down on the second bedroll, making sure he was secure and warm. He buried the fire pit and checked the surroundings one last time before wearily climbing up onto the wagon and clucking to the horses to get them moving again.

Biting back a yawn, he focused on the trail as the sky began to lighten just a little with the coming dawn. It was going to be a long day, after a long night.

To be continued...