This was written as a birthday gift- fic for my dear friend, Loopy.
Author’s Notes: I have the deepest respect for the Hopi people and their traditions. I hope that my story conveys this sentiment and that I have not taken too many liberties with the setting of my story. Thanks to Spacepixell and Rhonda for beta reading. This story contains corporal punishment. Be warned. // Denotes sign language. The old man gazed intently through the shimmering waves of heat that radiated lazily up off the expanse of desert scrub that stretched out before him. There was no mistaking the small figure dancing in the distance. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, his eyes crinkling in amusement. The soft trilling of the flute drifted across the desert, its playful melody clearly audible to his deaf ears. The wild curls of the distant figure bounced merrily in time with the measured cadence of the dance. The distinctive humped back bobbed rhythmically as small clouds of sand and dust swirled lazily around the stomping feet. The old man pulled himself up from his cross-legged position on the edge of the plateau overlooking the desert. He began chanting in the ancient tongue as his feet instinctively joined the dance. The wind picked up and a sudden swoosh of air transported him to the desert floor to join his old friend. The two solitary figures danced joyfully for what seemed like hours as the old man allowed the music and magic to convey their message. The smaller figure slowly began to fade and the music died away as the effects of the peyote-induced vision receded. Before disappearing completely, the trickster looked up at the old man and winked. ‘Huh’…the old man mused. ‘Since when does Kokopilua have blue eyes?’ Jim Ellison shook hands with the last of the well-wishers and began gathering up his notes. The seminar hadn’t been nearly as bad as he had feared. Up until now he had always managed to talk his way out of attending inter-state PD conferences. This time, Simon had not only insisted that Jim attend, but had also grimly informed Jim that the detective would be one of the speakers. The ex-ranger had the best solve rate in the state of Washington and the commissioner was adamant that only the best was who would go. Jim had braced himself for an onslaught of know-it-all detectives and skirmishes of one-up-manship. Instead, he was pleasantly surprised to find that the men and women in attendance were a well-informed, down to earth group. Soon after arriving he had hooked up with a tribal officer from the Hopi reservation northeast of Flagstaff. Billy Duwyenie had also served as an army ranger and the two men had hit it off immediately. Billy was waiting for him as he exited the conference room. “Didn’t see anyone run away screaming…must have gone okay, huh?” The younger man slapped Jim on the back as the two men headed toward the elevators. “Who’d you expect to see running away? Me or my audience?” Jim laughed. He had shared his misgivings with Billy and appreciated the moral support the other man had offered. “It went well. I wouldn’t have thought that techniques I use in Cascade would be of any use around here, but everyone seemed genuinely interested.” “Hey, your solve rate speaks for itself. It’s always good to get another perspective. There may be a lot of differences culturally between us and your neck of the woods, but human nature is still human nature.” Billy punched the down button on the elevator. “Let’s grab a beer…I’m buying. You can bore me with the details of your superior detecting skills. And then I can tell you all about where we’re headed tomorrow.” The conference was a weeklong affair but Jim’s part was done and it was only Tuesday. He had planned to hightail it back to Cascade once he fulfilled his speaking obligation, but changed his mind when Billy invited him to spend some time at his home on the reservation. Simon was surprised when Jim called to let him know but agreed that Jim deserved the extra time off. “They let you drink firewater off the reservation, Chief?” Jim arched one eyebrow quizzically. “Oh, that’s a good one, detective. I’ve never heard that one before.” Billy rolled his eyes, mock indignation on his face. “I sure hope your detecting skills are better than your sense of humor.” Their playful verbal sparring continued as the elevator doors silently closed. Professor Stoddard eyed his charges ruefully. It was their first day on the reservation. The objective of the study group from Ranier University was to observe the Native American customs, ceremonies, and culture of the Southwest. The small group already looked bored and some had made inexcusable gaffes in their remarks about the locals. If they had not bothered to take the time to learn basic social etiquette when dealing with an unfamiliar culture here in their own country, they would never manage on an expedition abroad. He had sincere misgivings about the future anthropologists he had brought along. Except for one… Blair Sandburg was literally bouncing on his feet, drinking in every detail of his surroundings. He was conversing excitedly with the blanket traders, at times interspersing his comments with a phrase or question in a Native American dialect. The merchants and craftsmen seemed to take to the youngster as if he were one of their own. At the urging of one of the tradesmen, Blair bent to pick up a handmade flute. As he brought the instrument to his lips, a flurry of giggles erupted from a nearby group of children. “Kokopelli! Kokopelli!” Amid shrieks of laughter the children pointed at the young man, tugging excitedly at any nearby adult, entreating one and all to take in the sight. “Kokopelli!” Sixteen-year-old Blair Sandburg, academic genius, son of an ex-hippie Jewish mother, aspiring anthropologist…looked up through the wild curls that framed his face. He waggled his eyebrows comically, eliciting still more laughter from the amused spectators. Recognizing the reference to the ancient supernatural being, Blair realized that his bent posture along with the backpack he wore and the riotous curls that stood up haphazardly in the dry desert heat coupled with the flute he now held poised at his lips, would indeed depict the mischievous deity. He played along further by blowing a simple tune on the flute and raising one foot in an attempt to impersonate the traditional rendition of Kokopelli. Eli Stoddard covered his mouth with his hand, muffling his laughter as he shook his head in amusement. He doubted that anyone else would get away with the antics being displayed by his favorite pupil. “The trickster has returned.” Eli jumped at the softly spoken words. He turned to see who had uttered them so close to his ear and smiled in delight. “Franklin!” At 86, Franklin Lonewolf was still a handsome man. His skin held the weathered, leathery look of one who has spent most of his life in the harsh dry climate of the desert. His long silver-gray hair had thinned only slightly since his youth and he wore it pulled back in a single braid. Black eyes, set deep above high cheekbones, still sparkled with intelligence and wit. The one detriment that old age had brought was the deafness that blocked the sounds of the natural world. // It is good to see you old friend. // The two men shook hands and resumed their observation of the irreverent tableau. After several minutes Eli faced Franklin, being sure to speak so that the old man could clearly see his lips. “He means no disrespect. He’s the best student I’ve ever had.” Franklin smiled contentedly. “Kokopilua and I danced the other day.” He looked pointedly at the other man. “He told me this young one was coming, as well as another. The two share a special destiny.” He looked fondly at the youngster a few feet away as if looking at a favorite grandson and nodded his head toward the boy. “I would like him to come with me for a few days.” Eli peered at his friend through narrowed eyes. // What are you up to? // “The other one that is coming…he is like me…or at least, what I used to be.” Franklin waited a moment to see if his statement would be acknowledged. At Eli’s nod of acceptance he continued. “The trickster must be bored, after being away for so long. The sentinel doesn’t know yet who he is and he’s gonna have his hands full with his guide.” “His guide?” Eli pinned Lonewolf with a questioning look and glanced at the youngster who was now the center of attention in the small open-air market. “Blair?” He looked again at the old man. “Why here? Why now?” “There are not many left who understand. And I am not so young any more, eh? The trickster thought it would be,” The old man chuckled softly. “Easier to bring them to me.” Franklin’s gaze returned to Blair, who had by now given up his mystical pose and was being jostled and teased by the horde of curious children. “Boy, is he gonna have his hands full.” Silent laughter shook the man’s frame. Billy owned a small house a couple of miles outside of Kykotsmovi, where the tribal headquarters of the Hopi Police was located. Billy had checked in and introduced Jim to some of the well trained men and women he worked with. After spending about an hour exchanging ‘shop’ talk and pleasantries, the two men headed out. Jim settled his long frame into the comfortable rocker and took a drink of the ice-cold beer Billy handed to him. The younger man plopped into the porch’s swing, suspended by rusty chains from the ceiling, and joined his new friend in admiring the view. The setting sun cast an orange-red glow over the expanse of mesa as it moved slowly toward the horizon. Jim felt his muscles relax and allowed a small contented sigh to slip past his lips. “It’s really beautiful here…I expected more, I don’t know…cactus, desert, bleached out skulls.” Jim laughed and shrugged his shoulders. “Some geologists consider this region part of the Great Basin Desert, others say it’s a separate desert, still others say it’s not a desert at all.” Billy’s laughter joined Jim’s. “Wait ‘til I show you around. Believe me, there’s plenty of desert in the Four Corners.” Franklin Lonewolf was having the time of his life. The mop-topped youngster that the trickster had sent his way reminded him of his own guide. Intelligent, respectful, non-stop questions had rained down on him since the moment Eli introduced them to each other. The old man was impressed that Blair was able to converse, to some degree, in both the Hopi tongue and also sign language. The young one hadn’t even hesitated a moment when told that he was going to have the opportunity to spend time one-on-one with Franklin. A brilliant, mischievous smile lit up the impish face as Blair swung his backpack up onto his shoulder and an eager, expectant bouncing began. Franklin chuckled. It had been twenty-four hours and the bouncing hadn’t stopped. The two had hit it off immediately…the differences of age, race, culture and religion not seeming to matter in the least. The shaman in Franklin recognized the old soul, the kindred spirit that the young one possessed. For a moment he allowed himself a touch of envy that another sentinel would be the one to travel life’s path with Blair. The feeling receded quickly as he felt the familiar touch of the trickster’s hand on his shoulder. “The wheel turns, old friend.” The old man smiled in agreement and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his faded jeans. The thumb and forefinger of his right hand found the small fetish, still knotted securely to the length of braided sinew that he had fashioned so long ago. Another hand, this time terrestrial, touched his shoulder. Concerned blue eyes, squinted against the brightness of the sun, looked into Franklin’s black orbs. // Grandfather, are you all right? // Franklin grinned, pleased that Blair used the respectful term of endearment. He shook himself slightly, as he realized that he had almost ‘zoned’ and his smile broadened when he noted that it was Blair’s touch that prevented it. “I’m fine. Just daydreaming a little. I used to come here often,” He nodded toward the nearby ruins. “With someone very much like you.” He wrapped a large arm around the small shoulders and gave an affectionate squeeze. “Come on, let’s have a closer look.” As they approached the small cluster of tourists and the broken remains of the ancient civilization that once thrived on the high mesa, Franklin noted a familiar buzz in the air that signaled to him the proximity of another sentinel. He picked up his pace, instinctively placing himself between the guide and the unknown interloper. “Old fool.” The old man smiled again. He wasn’t sure who was having more fun…Kokopilua or himself. He slowed his gait, allowing the hyperactive youngster to walk alongside him. He spotted the sentinel easily. Making his way over to where the man stood, ramrod straight, he came to within six feet of him and halted. He made a solemn pretense of gazing out over the ruins while covertly sizing up the other sentinel out of the corner of his eye. Blair bobbed impatiently on the balls of his feet for a few moments and then became uncharacteristically still as his gaze followed the old man’s out across the expanse of toppled stones and remnants of the ancient village. Jim Ellison wasn’t quite sure what it was that he was looking at. This was the first stop on the tour of Billy’s stomping grounds. It was obviously some type of ruins. But before he could question Billy about it, the tribal officer had been called over to a group of locals who had some sort of complaint to lodge. The detective looked for clues among the tumble of rocks and the pattern of the layout. Looking to his left, he noticed the tall old Native American standing a few feet away. “Could you tell me what this place is? Its significance?” Not receiving any sort of signal that the old man had heard him, Jim cleared his throat, ready to ask again, a little louder. “Shhhhh.” A young face, framed by a wild mass of shoulder-length curls, leaned out from the other side of the old man and peered intently at Jim. “It’s not polite to ask questions at a place like this.” He nodded in the general direction of the ruins. “Besides, grandfather is deaf.” “I don’t understand…” Jim started, somewhat confused by the youngster’s comment. “Well, duh…that’s obvious.” The kid rolled his eyes and smiled indulgently at Jim. Jim smiled back, shrugging his shoulders in an ‘I’m sorry I asked’ gesture. “I’ll explain, but not here. Hang on a second.” Blair placed his hand on Franklin’s forearm to get his attention. The old man drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Now it begins.” The trickster’s laugh echoed in Franklin’s mind as he turned to look at Blair. // Grandfather? I’m sorry to disturb you. // Franklin smiled at Blair. “What is it?” “This visitor…” Blair indicated Jim by a wave of his hand. “Wants to know more about what he sees here. I’m sure he doesn’t mean any disrespect. If it’s okay with you I’ll explain things to him.” Franklin turned to face Jim, this time not caring that he was shielding Blair from the other man. He looked Jim up and down, clearly letting the sentinel know that he was being scrutinized. Jim didn’t flinch under the appraising stare. He was at a loss as to what threat the old man thought he posed, but he was aware that he was definitely being analyzed. After studying Jim for a few more moments, Franklin held out his hand and his eyes crinkled in amusement. “I like you.” “Thanks.” Jim took the proffered hand and shook it amicably. “I’m Jim Ellison. And the kid’s right. I don’t mean any disrespect. I’m here with a friend, but he’s a little busy.” Jim pointed off to where Billy stood talking to the locals. “Officer Duwyenie, huh? He’s a good man. You a cop?” Franklin pointedly ignored Blair’s impatient bounce, visible in his peripheral vision. “Yes, sir, I’m a detective. I met Billy at a conference over in Flagstaff and he invited me to spend some time out here.” Jim, too, became aware of Blair’s agitated movements and unsuccessfully tried to stifle a laugh. “Is he always this antsy?” “Has been ever since I’ve known him.” Franklin laughed along with Jim. “I’m Franklin Lonewolf. I’m gonna go see what nonsense those yahoos over there are bothering Billy with.” He turned and pinned Blair with a look of mild irritation. “Why don’t you take the detective a respectful distance and answer his questions?” Blair’s bounce stilled momentarily as he accepted the gentle chastisement aimed at his impatient behavior. // Sorry, grandfather. // Franklin cupped Blair’s cheek, patted it fondly, and a little reluctantly handed the guide over to his sentinel. “It’s all right. Go on, now. I’ll join you in a few minutes.” The old man turned and walked off. Blair and Jim started walking toward a small stand of trees. “I thought you said your grandfather was deaf.” “He’s not my grandfather. I call him that out of respect for his age and wisdom. He can read lips exceptionally well, even at a distance. People are fooled by his articulate speech. He wasn’t always deaf. And,” Blair laughed and threw a mischievous look at Jim. “He hears a lot more than the rest of us.” Jim let that cryptic statement go for the moment. “So how do you know him, then? And what’s with the no questions back there?” They reached the shade of the trees and Blair easily folded himself into a cross-legged position on the ground, wiggling his butt into a comfortable position. Jim opted to remain standing and leaned his long frame against the trunk of one of the trees. Being the natural-born teacher that he was, Blair patiently explained to his pupil the proper etiquette while visiting a Hopi site. “The Hopi are a very private people. They welcome visitors to their land, but it’s expected that you do your homework or that a guide has explained things before you arrive. While at a site or during one of the few dances or ceremonies that whites are allowed to attend, it’s expected that you remain quiet and not ask questions. You’re welcome to walk around, and look but, of course, don’t disturb anything or remove artifacts. Sketching, taking pictures, video or sound recording are all prohibited. The entire four corners area was once the hub of a vast ancient trade route dating back to around 1150.” Jim found himself amazed at the amount of information spilling out of the youngster and held up his hands in a slowing gesture. “Whoa, there, junior. I get the picture.” His eyes crinkled in amusement and he smiled, finding that he genuinely liked this ball of energy. “Tell me a little about yourself and how you know Mr. Lonewolf.” “Oh, yeah, sorry…I’m Blair Sandburg. I’m here with a study group from Ranier University. I met Franklin yesterday. I’m majoring in anthropology and my advisor, Professor Stoddard, and Franklin are old friends. I was invited to spend time with him, away from the rest of the group, and I jumped at the chance.” Jim’s brows furrowed. “You’re from Cascade? Cascade, Washington? That’s where I’m from. I’m a detective in the Major Crimes unit with Cascade PD.” Jim took a moment to try and let the coincidence of their meeting here, in this remote spot, sink in. He took another good, longer look at the youngster. “You don’t look old enough to be a college student.” Blair rolled his eyes. “I’m sixteen and I just finished my freshman year. I’m not ‘from’ Cascade, exactly. It’s where I go to school. My mom and I spent most of my life traveling.” Blair fidgeted a little, not sure if he wanted to explain any more of his unorthodox upbringing to this obviously straight-laced cop, and decided against it. “I’d like to get back to the site now, if you don’t have any more questions.” Jim pinned Blair with steely blue eyes, not sure why he had the feeling that the kid was keeping something from him, and even more confused as to why he should care. He shook the feeling off and stretched his arm out in an offer to pull the kid to his feet. “Sure, let’s go. Thanks for helping me out here.” Before he had the chance to help Blair up, Jim clamped his hands over his ears, his face grimacing in pain. The loud sharp shriek of a hawk echoed off the walls of the wash below the nearby mesa as the large bird of prey swept out of the sky to snatch an unwary rodent from the floor of the ravine. The predator continued to squawk and the unhappy squealing of the captured rodent added to the assault on the sentinel’s ears. Blair was at Jim’s side in a heartbeat. “What is it, man? Are you all right?” He ran a hand tentatively up and down the older man’s arm as he lowered his voice to a soothing monotone. “Take it easy. Shut the sound out, Jim. Listen to my voice instead.” The deafening sounds slowly receded as Jim focused on the tranquil voice commanding him to shut out the pain. He looked into the scared blue eyes of the concerned face staring back at him. The realization that something unusual was occurring between them struck the pair at the same time. Jim found his voice first. “What the hell is going on?” Franklin watched the sentinel and guide, clearly able to make out the confusion apparent on each face. He hadn’t heard the hawk’s scream but knew from watching Jim that it was the sentinel’s hearing that had spiked. He grinned in approval at Blair’s instantaneous reaction to Jim’s plight and the success of the young guide’s actions. He reached over and tapped the tribal officer lightly on the shoulder. “Billy.” “Yes, grandfather?” Billy’s gaze followed Franklin’s outstretched arm, his finger pointing unwaveringly toward the two figures under the stand of peach trees. “Your friend needs to come stay with me and my young friend for a few days.” He waited for the spark of recognition to settle on the young man’s face. “You’re kidding. Those two?” Billy’s incredulous look elicited a hearty chuckle from Franklin. “Jim’s a cop, ex-military. That kid is a, well, a kid…and he looks like some sort of flower child or something. Neither of them is one of the people. You can’t be serious.” Franklin was too busy chuckling at the look on Billy’s face to be able to read the man’s lips, but he understood the misgivings etched on his features. “You think the people are the only ones who have ever had sentinels? We’re just more enlightened than most and never had a problem accepting what the gods bless us with.” The old man winked in amusement at the grandson of his own sorely missed, long-departed guide. “These two will do all right. They just need a little help, a nudge in the right direction. Blair reminds me a lot of your grandfather. The age difference is about the same. And Blair is as impetuous and, I suspect, just as reckless as Joseph.” He grabbed Billy by the elbow and began walking toward the trees. “I don’t think Jim will put up with any nonsense from him, though. I sure didn’t with Joseph.” Jim chose to deal with what had happened by ignoring it, at least for the time being. It was too much like what he had experienced those 18 months in Peru, after the chopper crash. And again, more recently, when he had been on the stakeout during the switchman case. None of the doctors he had been to could explain the strange spikes in his sensory awareness. What was harder to ignore was the way Blair had been able to help suppress the painful sounds and bring his hearing back to a tolerable level. And even harder to ignore was the sudden, almost overwhelming need to keep the hyperactive kid near him. Blair tried to offer a theory, based on some wild account of tribesmen in Paraguay as observed by an explorer named Burton in the last century. Jim waved him off brusquely at the mention of the words throwback, caveman, and real thing…not really listening to the excited explanation. Blair held up his hands in a placating gesture and backed off. “Sorry, man…just trying to help.” He arched his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders in the way that teenagers do when patronizing an adult. He spun around and headed off in the direction of the ruins. Franklin intercepted Blair about half way between the trees and the ancient site. He took a moment to wave Billy on toward Jim and then spoke with Blair. “You two have a fight?” // No. // “Yes.” // I don’t know. // Blair blew out an exasperated sigh and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Something weird happened and I was trying to help…” Blair started to pace, but two large hands grabbed him, stilling his motion. “Look at me when you’re talking to me.” The request was made with authoritative gentleness. “Oh, right, sorry, grandfather.” Curious young eyes looked up, meeting the wise eyes of the old man. “Whatever it was, he seems to be all right now.” Blair took a moment to peer past Franklin to where Jim and Billy were standing. “If it’s okay with you, I’m gonna go back over to the site now. I’d like to get a look at the petroglyphs.” Before releasing his hold on the anxious youngster, Franklin gave Blair a reassuring squeeze and a stern admonishment. “Don’t wander too far. And stay off the cliffs. It’s not safe to be climbing alone…there are snakes and scorpions and the ground tends to give way easily.” Blair tried to laugh off the warning. He and Naomi had traveled and explored in places much more remote and dangerous than this. He shrugged off Franklin’s loose hold and began walking backwards, rapidly signing to the older man. // Don’t worry, grandfather. I’ll be careful. // With a huge grin and farewell wave of his hand, Blair spun around and hurried off. Franklin shook his head, mildly amused at the resilience and fearlessness of the young. As he resumed his trek toward Jim and Billy, eager to offer an explanation and help to the bewildered sentinel, the soft trilling of Kokopelli’s flute once again filled his head. “You think I’m a what?” Jim stared disbelievingly at the old man and young tribal officer sitting across from him. He was finding their explanation of the painful spike in his hearing a bit hard to digest. But it was pretty similar to what the motor-mouthed kid had been saying and Jim, surprisingly, found that to be a comfort. With Billy’s help and Jim’s reluctant cooperation, Franklin proceeded to demonstrate his own sentinel abilities to the skeptical younger man. He read lips from a seemingly impossible distance, tracked Jim across a wide expanse of the mesa by smell while blindfolded and ‘read’ the raised print on several fliers that Billy had in his truck. Jim conceded the point before the old man could come up with a tasting demonstration. Everything Franklin was telling him and showing him was very much like what he was able to do while with the Chopec. It fell into line with experiences from his childhood and the more recent events during the switchman case. And it certainly offered more hope and made more sense than anything any of the doctors had been able to tell him. “I assume your hearing was enhanced too, before…?” Jim allowed the question to trail off; slightly embarrassed to bring up what could be a sensitive issue. “Yes. I think my hearing was my strongest sense.” Franklin spoke without any hint of regret. “That, and my sight. I actually think my sight has gotten stronger since my hearing left me.” Jim hesitated for a moment before asking his next question. “Blair said you hear more than the rest of us. What did he mean by that?” He crossed his arms, bracing himself for what he assumed would be some mystic mumbo-jumbo type explanation. Franklin studied the other man carefully. For all their supposed beliefs in God and good and evil, white men generally found any foray into the realm of the supernatural hard to accept. “ I converse with one of our ancient deities on a regular basis. He lets me in on a lot of things.” Franklin laughed heartily and winked at Jim, dismissing the detective’s eye rolling. “Sentinels and guides usually have a spirit animal to help guide and protect them, but that will come of its own accord if it’s gonna happen.” Jim zeroed in on the plural nature of Franklin’s remark. “Sentinels and guides? What do you mean by that?” It was Billy who answered. “My grandfather, Joseph, was Franklin’s guide. He helped Franklin learn how to use and control his senses. If a sentinel focuses too intently on one sense he zones-out, it’s like a state of unconsciousness, and the guide helps to prevent this from happening or brings the sentinel out of it if it does happen.” He looked to Franklin for support, and at the older man’s nod, continued. “Sentinel and guide form a special bond…like brothers, or father and son…it’s very close, very strong. A sentinel becomes very protective of his guide. It’s something very special.” As Jim let all this information start to sink in, a sense of unease slowly began to settle over him. The three men had wandered from the shade of the trees during Franklin’s tracking demonstration and they were now some distance from where Blair had left them. At the thought of the hyperactive youngster, Jim became fully alert, realizing that his sudden anxiety centered on the absent kid. Franklin noticed the change in Jim as the prickly under the skin sensation he used to get when Joseph was in trouble assaulted his more finely tuned awareness. Jim’s concerned face turned to Franklin as the realization hit him that Blair was his guide. And his guide was missing. And his guide was in trouble. Blair headed off across the mesa toward the beckoning cliffs, offhandedly dismissing Franklin’s warnings. Youthful enthusiasm for a new adventure allowed him to easily turn away from the no doubt boring discussion the older men would be having. His earlier thoughts that Jim might be the embodiment of his aspiring anthropological studies were forgotten as he anxiously turned his musings to the ancient artwork that awaited him. He strolled along the base of the cliffs, looking up as he went, marveling at the petroglyphs and all they represented. All sense of time eluded him as he allowed his overactive imagination to transport him back through the centuries, mentally placing himself in the footsteps of the ancient artists. Some of the artwork was easy to recognize and understand…crops, the sun, hunters and prey. Others were more mysterious and he allowed more time to slip away as he tried to decipher their importance. A small rendering caught his eye, not as high up as the others and partially hidden in the shadows of the cliff’s side. He tried in vain to make out what it was, crooking his neck into several different positions and walking back and forth to try and see it from differing angles. Curiosity got the better of him, and ignoring Franklin’s earlier warning completely, Blair decided that the climb wasn’t that high or treacherous and he nimbly ascended the cliff face. Upon reaching the picture, Blair laughed out loud…the sound echoing merrily along the corridors of the cliff. In front of him was etched an impression of Kokopelli…the flute player…the trickster. Known also as a bringer of fertility and bounty, this representation of Kokopelli depicted the humpbacked wanderer’s rather generously endowed male member. Blair wiped tears of laughter from his face as he remembered his previous days’ impersonation of the curly-headed deity. He turned to make his descent and took a moment to look out across the mesa. He realized, with a sudden gulp of indecision, that he had lost his bearings entirely and was not able to determine from which direction he had come. Searching in vain for the small group of trees to use as a point of reference, his dismay became firmly rooted in the pit of his stomach. Blair decided to follow the high path for as long it lasted, in the hope that a recognizable landmark would present itself. Taking one last look at the trickster and silently cursing himself at being drawn in by Kokopelli’s joke, Blair took one step and the earth beneath his foot gave way sending him tumbling head over heels to the bottom. His head bounced off a small boulder as he landed. He tried to stand, rubbing absently at the tiny lump that had begun to form and his knees immediately gave out as he succumbed to unconsciousness. As his awareness slipped away, he heard the soft notes of a flute lulling him to sleep. He had the strangest dream. In it, a panther and a wolf cub lived and played. The panther guarded and nurtured the wolf pup as if it were its own offspring. The setting in which this unusual pair frolicked switched from the campus at Ranier, to a small cozy apartment, to an office setting of some type and, this was the strangest part… in and out of a blue jungle. Concerned voices began to drift into his awareness, threatening to pull Blair from his comfortable sleep and its interesting dream. Blair fought against them, not wishing to leave the warmth and security of the blue haze. A not so soft slapping on his cheeks now accompanied a voice that became more commanding than concerned. “Blair! Come on, junior…time to wake up. Blair!” One eye cracked open reluctantly to find the anxious faces of Jim, Franklin and Billy staring at him. Looks of relief quickly replaced the anxiety as Blair pried his other eye open and gave the men a lop-sided grin. “Can you sit up?” Jim’s voice sounded a little garbled and Blair shook his head a little to help clear it, setting off a dizzying spin behind his eyes. “Whoa. Yeah, I think so…head hurts.” Blair’s limbs remained limp, defying his brain’s command to comply with Jim’s wishes. Strong hands secured him under the armpits and gently maneuvered Blair to an upright position, seated, he now realized, between Jim’s legs and propped against the detective’s broad chest. “Okay, just take it easy, kid. Deep breaths, blow them out slowly.” Blair followed Jim’s soothing command and soon his head cleared enough that the spinning stopped and a semblance of control returned to his defiant limbs. Blair turned to look at Jim, confusion written all over his face. “How did you find me? I kinda wandered further than I had intended and got myself sorta mixed up and turned around.” A sheepish grin played across the youngster face. A somewhat stern look replaced Jim’s concerned one, as he evaded Blair’s question and replaced it with one of his own. “The question is…what are you doing here? I heard Franklin tell you not to wander far, and to stay off the cliffs.” Blair’s nimble mind had not suffered so hard a blow that he missed the little tidbit of information that Jim had let slip. “You couldn’t have heard grandfather tell me anything. You were nowhere near us and we weren’t facing you.” Blair’s petulant, accusatory tone didn’t sit well with the older man. Until he said it, Jim hadn’t even realized that he had overheard the admonishments issued by Franklin. The more he thought about it, he realized that ever since he had first encountered Blair he had been keeping track of the youngster on a subconscious level. It had been ridiculously easy for Jim to pinpoint and track Blair’s trek across the mesa and along the base of the cliffs. Blair’s attempt to misdirect Jim’s displeasure at his act of disobedience led Jim to confess out loud what he had been reluctant to admit. “I heard Franklin plain as day. I’m a sentinel. There. I said it.” He looked Franklin in the eye and reiterated it for the elder sentinel. “I’m a sentinel.” He smiled at Franklin who winked in return, the intelligent old eyes crinkling in amusement at Jim’s statement of the obvious. “I know.” Jim stood up, bringing a still shaky Blair with him. He dusted off the seat of Blair’s jeans with a bit more vigor than necessary to remove the small amount of dust and debris that had clung to the denim. “Ow! Hey! Watch it! That smarts!” An indignant Blair stumbled out of Jim’s grasp and into the safety of Franklin’s personal space. “What was that for?” Jim pinned Blair with a look that said ‘you know exactly what that was for’. He then gently grabbed hold of his guide, removing him from Franklin’s protection and bringing him back to his own safekeeping. He gave the confused youngster a big hug, ruffling the wild curls while running a cursory check of the boy’s vital signs. Blair had the good sense to hang his head contritely and mumble a heartfelt apology. A single hard swat landed on his butt. “Now what’d I do?” “I don’t believe Franklin heard you.” Blair blushed and turned toward the old man, genuinely sorry that he might have caused his new friend any distress. // I’m very sorry, grandfather. // Seeing Franklin’s forgiving smile, Blair started bouncing excitedly. This, in turn, caused the older man’s smile to broaden. Blair dismissed his recent scolding and launched into a barrage of questions and a commentary of his findings at the cliff. “Jim’s really a sentinel? That is so cool.” // I tried to tell him. // “But would he listen to me?” // No. // “Of course not…I’m just a kid, right?” // What do I know? // “Oh!” // Know what I found up there? // Blair paused momentarily to point up to the spot from which he tumbled. // Kokopelli. // “Kokopelli.” // And… I had this strange dream. // Jim cut off Blair’s animated ramblings, unable to keep up with the spoken parts of the jumbled review of events, much less the signed comments. “How about you tell us all about it later? We need to get you checked out at a hospital and then decide where we go from here with all this.” Billy cut in at this point. “Grandfather wants you to stay with him and Blair for a few days. You and your guide are gonna need some time to adjust to each other.” Blair’s eyes lit up and his bounce became almost manic. “His guide? You mean me? This is, like, so cool, man.” Franklin wrapped an arm around the excited young man and, with Jim’s nod of approval, began walking the guide back across the mesa. Blair talked and signed non-stop all the way back to the trucks that had brought the four men together at this place. Billy offered to drive Franklin’s truck back to his place for him picking up some steaks for the grill and Jim’s luggage on the way. The other three piled into Billy’s truck with Jim at the wheel and set off for the nearby tribal clinic, with Franklin navigating. A knowing look passed between the two sentinels, over the head of the still chattering guide seated between them. A fond, almost paternal look was bestowed upon the distracted guide by his sentinel. Jim echoed Franklin’s observation from the day before, shaking his head in amusement. “Boy, am I gonna have my hands full.” The doctor at the small tribal clinic confirmed what both Jim and Franklin had already surmised. A small lump remained on the back of Blair’s head but there was no indication of a concussion or skull fracture. A few scrapes and bruises were the only other evidence of the nosedive from the cliff. The two older men were amused at the doctor’s concern that Blair’s non stop rambling might be due to the blow to his head. They reassured the man that he should only be worried if the youngster wasn’t talking incessantly. After issuing the usual warnings of what to watch for after a head injury, the doctor allowed the trio to leave. By the time they got back to Franklin’s place, Billy had the steaks on the grill and cold drinks for everyone. Blair grumbled loudly when the beer he plucked from the tray Billy brought around was snatched from his hand and replaced with a soda. Jim arched one eyebrow at Blair. “Can it, junior…we are not even going to have this discussion.” Blair opened his mouth to voice a token objection but quickly snapped it shut again. The memory of the impromptu swats delivered to his posterior under the pretense of removing the dirt from his jeans was still fresh in his mind. He had met the big guy less than 12 hours ago but Jim’s proprietary feelings toward him were becoming evident. Blair made a note to himself to talk to Franklin about it. He thought that it might have something to do with the whole sentinel/guide thing, but secretly hoped there might be more to it than that. The unconventional upbringing he’d had was great but there were times he had wished for a male figure that he could look up to and learn from. Of course, the father figure in his dreams was always more along the lines of an anti-establishment, hippie rock star… Another beautiful sunset painted the sky over the serene mesa as the new friends exchanged stories, jokes and background information. They talked for hours…about Billy’s childhood on the reservation and his memories of Joseph…about Jim’s time in the military and the erratic awakening of his senses…about Franklin’s sentinel abilities and ‘visits’ with his friend the trickster…about Blair’s offbeat interests. It was well after the moon was up and the pinks and reds of the late evening sky gave way to an endless expanse of stars before Billy reluctantly left for the night. Jim was given the small spare room that Blair had stayed in the night before and found the lingering smell of the boy’s herbal soap and unique personal scent to be comforting as he began to drift toward sleep. The nocturnal sounds of the mesa and surrounding desert were registered and dismissed allowing Jim to zero in on Blair’s heartbeat. Blair’s slightly elevated, excited, nervous heartbeat. Jim sat up to listen in more closely, wanting to reassure himself that Blair was all right and that the increased rhythm was due to the day’s adventures and discoveries…not any complications of the boy’s minor injuries. The snatches of conversation that he heard brought a smirk to his face. Clearly Blair was trying to talk Franklin into something that he thought Jim would not approve of. He found himself less than happy that Blair would be plotting something with the clear intent of keeping it from Jim. It was difficult to discern all that was being said. The conspirators were talking in hushed tones and parts of the conversation had to be in sign language, judging by the soft rustling sounds and disjointed flow of words. “You promised, grandfather.” “…might not approve…” “…my choice, who cares what…” “…peyote…” “I’ve tried other…” “…peyote…” “…before he wakes up…” “…a blue jungle…” Having heard enough, Jim smiled contentedly and dropped off to sleep. Franklin had explained to him earlier that it was not unusual for a sentinel to become protective of and nurturing toward his guide…especially a young, impulsive guide. Now that he had a pretty good idea of what Blair had planned, he decided that it was high time for someone to rein in the impetuous youth’s undisciplined ways. And he was just the sentinel to do it. “No way. Not gonna happen, junior.” Jim had listened patiently to Blair’s enthusiastic presentation of why he should be allowed to try his hand at a peyote-induced vision quest. The fact the boy had tried to hide his intentions from Jim did not help his case in the least. Jim had gotten up early and easily intercepted Blair and Franklin, putting a stop to their little excursion. “Come on, man…what’s the big deal? It’s not illegal.” Jim held his ground and stared incredulously at Blair and Franklin. “It’s an hallucinogen…that’s the big deal. And you’re only sixteen,” Jim pointed one finger at Blair as he fixed his best cop-look on Franklin. “Barely.” Jim ignored Blair’s exaggerated eye rolling and continued his lecture, carefully making sure that Franklin could read both his lips and his displeasure. “I can’t believe you’d even consider letting him do this.” Franklin shrugged nonchalantly, completely un-intimidated by Jim’s hard-ass cop routine. “I’ve been doing it since I wasn’t much older than he is now.” “See? I’m telling you, Ji-im! It’s no big deal! When I was in Mexico last year with Naomi and some of her friends from her Haight-Ashbury days, we tried this…” “Forget it. I don’t want to hear it.” Jim once again turned his steely blue eyes toward Franklin. “If it’s no big deal then why were the two of you trying to hide it from me and sneak off?” Jim’s gaze softened a bit in an effort to convey to Franklin that he now considered it his duty to set appropriate limitations for the boy and didn’t want to fight the older sentinel to do it. “He is not your guide, old fool.” Franklin bowed his head and nodded in agreement with his spirit guide. He had really wanted Blair to experience what a vision quest might foretell. Blair’s dream of the blue jungle had piqued the old man’s curiosity and he had been as eager as the youngster to delve deeper into it. Sighing heavily he shook his lanky frame and walked toward the door. Pausing in the doorway, he turned and faced the determined looking sentinel and agitated guide. “Jim’s right. Now is not the time. I’m gonna walk down to the mailbox…leave you two to work this out. In a little while we’ll set up a few tests for Jim…see if we can determine where his senses are and what the two of you need to work on together.” A half-hearted smile creased his weathered face; he winked at Blair and walked out the door. Blair stared mournfully at the empty doorway, disbelief at the sudden change in plans etched on his face. The disbelief quickly turned to disappointment, which swiftly led to annoyance. Cop or no cop, sentinel or no sentinel…Jim had no right to tell him what he could do. This was between Blair and Franklin and the old man had promised Blair a vision quest. Blair decided it was time to set Jim straight on who was in charge of Blair Sandburg’s life. And he was just the guide to do it. When Franklin returned to the house 20 minutes later he found Jim sitting at the small kitchen table sipping a steaming cup of coffee and munching on a toasted English muffin. Jim looked up as Franklin entered and smiled at the old man, tilting his head at the coffeepot on the stove in an offer to pour a cup for him. Declining the offer by a curt wave of his hand, Franklin furrowed his brows in a questioning manner while scanning the area for some sign of Blair. His eyes roamed across the open expanse of his modest kitchen/dining area and into the small living room where he finally spotted his young guest firmly planted in the far corner. He looked back at Jim, not sure if he should intervene on Blair’s behalf. Jim saved him the trouble of finding out. Jim casually glanced at his watch and then at the bewildered looking man now seated across from him. “Blair will be joining us in, oh…about 10 minutes. That is, if he thinks he can behave himself and watch his mouth.” Jim made the pronouncement loudly enough to be heard clearly by his intended listener. “If not, we’ll just have to postpone the day’s activities until he’s ready.” Blair bristled slightly at the reprimand; then slumped his shoulders in defeat as the stinging sensation in his butt signaled him to hold his tongue. Jim had landed six well-placed swats before positioning him nose to wall, hands at his sides in the corner. The battle of wills between sentinel and guide had been short and, to Blair’s dismay, very one-sided. The first three expletives had barely left his mouth when Blair found himself nose to nose, up close and personal, with one very irritated male authority figure…a creature he was totally unfamiliar with. With a deceptive calm, Jim had explained to Blair that from this point on, any childish, disrespectful, disobedient or deceitful behavior would be dealt with by Blair being on the receiving end of an old-fashioned over the knee spanking. And if that hadn’t thrown Blair for enough of a loop, Jim’s next statements certainly did. “We haven’t known each other long enough for this to make a while lot of sense, kiddo. I need you and you need me. And it’s not just this sentinel stuff. We have something more to offer each other and it starts right here, right now…with me taking charge of this little partnership.” Before Blair had a chance to debate Jim’s decree, the wallops to his backside had been delivered and his present position had been established with the stern warning not to move until Jim declared enough time had elapsed. Blair remembered his secret fantasy from the previous night…that there might be more to his new friendship with Jim than the guide thing. Here was his chance to study…no, be a part of a sentinel’s life. One that just affirmed that he wanted more than just the sentinel/guide thing. One that just very emphatically showed Blair that he was ready, willing and able to be the father figure Blair had often longed for. He couldn’t help but inwardly laugh at himself. Be careful what you wish for… He was pulled from his musings by Jim’s hand on his shoulder. “Well, junior? What’s it going to be?” The big guy turned Blair so that they faced each other. “I’d much rather spend the day being tortured and tested with this heightened senses stuff and see some more of the sights, but it’s up to you…” Blair hazarded a glance at Franklin from around Jim’s side. The old man had followed Jim part way into the room and was now smiling happily at the pair in front of him. Blair caught the look of approval on the old man’s face and gave up the few lingering misgivings he had about his place in Jim’s life. “Sounds good to me, big guy.” Blair graced Jim with one of his dazzling smiles, mischief twinkling in his eyes. “The first thing I think we should test is your sense of humor, cuz, man, this whole take charge of the guide thing is sooooo not funny…” Franklin Lonewolf couldn’t remember that last time he had spent such an enjoyable day. Jim’s senses were incredible and Blair’s natural ability to guide Jim was equally impressive. The gentle melody of Kokopilua’s flute filled the old man’s head as Franklin shepherded the young team through several trials, observing carefully and offering advice and support throughout the day. They ventured to Third Mesa and indulged in a picnic lunch while admiring the beauty and serenity of one of Franklin’s favorite spots. The two sentinels took turns trying to impress the enthusiastic youngster they both were so fond of by endeavoring to outdo one another in the use of their senses. Blair egged them both on, curious to compare their abilities while being careful not to let either push too far or zone out. Ever the explorer, Blair soon wandered off, well within sight of both of his overprotective watchdogs, in search of ancient artifacts. Franklin took the opportunity to counsel Jim on how best to deal with an impetuous guide, drawing on his many years of experience as protector, chaperone, patriarch and disciplinarian to Joseph. Jim laughed along with Franklin at some of the stories of the guide’s exploits and adventures. And he squeezed the old man’s shoulder in a comforting grasp when the memories became too painful for Franklin to convey. Blair soon returned, enthusiastically detailing the discovery of every interesting rock or crevice that he had found. Jim dialed down his hearing, grateful for the trick that Blair had come up with, and dozed off. The brash youngster groaned in mock protest at Jim’s none too subtle hint that he talked too much and playfully toed the big guy in the ribs. This earned him a lazy swat to his butt; completely misjudging Jim’s reach from the recumbent position the sentinel had assumed. As Jim slept, it was Blair’s turn to be favored by Franklin’s attention and knowledge. The future anthropologist eagerly absorbed every detail of the wise old man’s recitation of the Hopi way. He sat uncharacteristically still…mesmerized by Franklin’s telling of the First through Third Worlds, the First People, the Chosen People, Spider Woman and her rescue of the chosen ancestors who now inhabited Fourth World. He was already familiar with the tale of how kivas are the representation of the anthills in which the faithful were protected underground with the ant people after the destruction of Second World. But he listened intently nevertheless, as if hearing it for the first time. The stories soon turned to lessons as Franklin quizzed Blair on what the guide had learned that day, impressed by the boy’s quick grasp of the responsibilities that were now his. He pulled the boy close and Blair eagerly accepted and returned the hug Franklin offered. Franklin reached into his pocket and withdrew the necklace that was always in his possession. He ran his thumb thoughtfully over the design that he had etched into the smooth stone so many years ago. “What’s that, grandfather?” Seeing that Franklin was lost in thought, Blair nudged him gently and asked again. // What’s that, grandfather? // Franklin held the necklace up for Blair to see. A small, oblong, gray stone hung from a length of intricately braided sinew, swaying slightly. At Franklin’s nod, Blair stilled the stone to have closer look. The boy smiled, amused but not surprised to find Kokopelli…the Trickster, engraved on the stone. Every detail was there…the poised flute, the humped back, the four corkscrewed curls. // This is beautiful, grandfather. // Blair looked at Franklin and was startled to see the old man’s eyes pooling with tears. // What’s wrong? Have I done something wrong? // Franklin wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “No, Blair. You haven’t done anything wrong. You’ve done everything right. My tears are tears of joy.” He reached over and slid the necklace over Blair’s head. “I made this for Joseph, after the vision quest in which I learned that Kokopilua chose to be our spirit guide. I want you to have it.” “Grandfather…I-I couldn’t…this mean too much to you.” Franklin reached over and mussed the already wildly tousled curls. “Nonsense! Of course you can…and you will. I want you to have it.” He winked at the astonished youngster. “Now let’s get Jim moving. It’s getting late and Billy’s coming over again. I hope he’s bringing pizza!” Billy did bring pizza…and beer, which was once again denied to Blair. “Come on, Jim…it’s just one beer. We’re practically in the middle of nowhere for crying out loud. My head’s fine and…” “No.” And the protest stopped. “Huh.” Franklin laughed. “I didn’t think he’d give up that easily.” After many stories and too many beers, it was decided that it would be wise for Billy to spend the night. A sleeping bag was rolled out on the floor for Blair and Billy took the couch. Before turning in, Blair stopped at the doorway to the room Jim was in. “Good night, Jim. And, um…well, thanks for everything. I, um, I…” Unsure if any expression of endearment toward Jim would be well received or returned, Blair hastily left. Jim smiled and lay back on his pillow, pondering the events of the day and Blair’s hesitant comments. “Good night, kiddo. I love you, too.” The loud crackling of Billy’s police walkie-talkie woke him much earlier than he would have liked. He grabbed it off the table and stumbled, bleary eyed and half awake, out to the front porch, in a futile attempt to keep from waking the others. Blair was upright on the floor by the time Jim hurried out of his room, raising one eyebrow questioningly. Blair just shrugged in return and indicated by a shake of the wild mass of curls that he had no clue. It wasn’t until Billy stepped back into the house that Blair and Jim looked in unison at the empty couch, realizing belatedly what had caused them to waken. Billy was hurriedly pulling on pants and shirt. “I gotta go. That was a call from tribal headquarters.” He looked around in confusion and finally spotted his socks. He yanked them onto his feet and slipped on his shoes. “There’s been a kidnapping. Well, not really a kidnapping. A local guy by the name of Sam Pino…been outta work for a while and his wife is divorcing him. Any way, Sam grabbed his little girl and took off with her. The wife’s got custody and she’s not sure how stable Sam is. His car was spotted headed out toward Chenle wash…that’s not too far from here. The wife thinks he might have a gun.” Jim was dressed by this time and rummaging through his duffle. He pulled out his shoulder holster and slipped it into place. “I’ll come with you. I know I’m out of my jurisdiction, but you can deputize me on the way.” “You sure? I’d be grateful for the help.” At Jim’s affirmative nod, the two men headed toward the door. “I’m coming too.” Blair was bouncing in place, both from excitement and in an attempt to pull up his uncooperative jeans. The police officers turned in unison and each man gave Blair his patented version of the ‘no way you’re coming with us’ look. Jim took charge and issued a non-negotiable edict. “No way, junior. You stay here. Tell Franklin what happened. We’ll let you know what’s going on as soon as we can. Got it?” “But what if something goes wrong with your senses? This is unfamiliar territory to you. Your hearing could spike again, or the sun could reflect off something, or…” Jim grabbed Blair and hugged him close, easily reading the panic in the boy’s face and posture. “Nothing’s going to happen. This is what I do. This is what Billy does. We’re both good at our jobs. We’ll be back as soon as we can.” Blair waited almost two whole minutes after the men left before he went and woke Franklin. Blair waited impatiently for Franklin to rub the sleep from his eyes before giving the old man the Sandburg version of events. “Billy got a call from headquarters.” Which Blair figured was enough of the truth to get by with…a little obfuscation was what followed. Okay…a lot of obfuscation. “I’m not sure what it’s all about because he and Jim left in kind of a hurry. But they did say something about going over to Chenle wash and after they left I noticed that Billy forgot um, some of his um, stuff, so I’ll just take your truck and catch up with them. Okay?” Still half asleep, Franklin only caught part of the explanation rapidly pouring out of Blair’s mouth. He followed the boy to the front door, still not fully awake. He watched as Blair plucked the truck keys from the peg by the door. He scratched at an insistent itch on his flank as he watched Blair hop into the old pickup and drive off erratically. It wasn’t until he walked back toward the kitchen to start a pot of coffee that he heard the shrill agitated whistling of his spirit guide’s flute and felt the prickly sensation under his skin. He stopped dead in his tracks, speaking out loud to the silence surrounding him. “Damn. You’re as bad as Joseph…maybe worse. I hope you’re all right, Blair. And I hope Jim tans your hide good when he gets his hands on you.” Blair bounced excitedly in the passenger seat of the old pickup. Adrenaline still pumping, he needlessly recounted the morning’s events to Jim. The sentinel was doing his best to bring his temper under control before dealing with Blair’s impetuous, disobedient actions. The guide was completely oblivious to the fact that his animated re-telling of the story only sealed his fate. It wasn’t until the truck came to a stop in front of Franklin’s house that Blair finally took the time to glance over at Jim to gauge his reaction. What he saw caused him to gulp audibly. Jim’s mouth was tightly clenched shut; jaw muscles twitching… slow measured breaths escaped through flared nostrils…his eyes, narrowed to slits, spoke volumes. Blair could have sworn that he saw small wisps of steam curling outward from Jim’s ears. Jim quickly exited the truck and before Blair had time to react, he found himself unceremoniously yanked out, grabbed securely by the elbow and towed toward the house. The realization of what was to come finally hit Blair like a ton of bricks and he began a frantic attempt to loosen himself from Jim’s iron grip. “Let go of me! What do you think you’re doing? I’m all right! Please, Jim, let go!” They both spotted Franklin, standing on the small porch, at the same time. Blair futilely tried to sign to the old man for help. His left arm was still firmly held by Jim, causing Blair’s one-handed efforts to come out as gibberish. Jim pointed a finger at the other sentinel as he pulled his guide past the older man and into the house. “You stay out of this.” To Blair’s dismay, Franklin made no effort to intercede on his behalf as he followed the two inside. Jim headed directly to the couch and in one swift motion was seated with Blair face down across his lap. Franklin moved to a small chest of drawers set against the wall opposite the couch. “Stop! Jim, please…you can’t do this! I know I should have listened. But I’m all right! Grandfather!” Blair’s frantic efforts to get up were met with a hard swat to his backside. The painful sting registered both physically and mentally and Blair renewed his battle to escape the upcoming punishment. Franklin opened the top drawer of the chest and retrieved the object that had been placed there many years ago, apparently just waiting for this moment to arrive. He turned back to the couch to the sight of Jim re-positioning Blair over his left knee and securing the wiggling guide by putting his right leg over both of the boy’s legs to halt the wild kicking. Using his left arm, Jim tightened his hold on Blair’s waist, effectively pinning the boy in place…the small, unprotected butt now ready for his undivided attention. “Ouch! Ow! Aw, Jim, please don’t!” Jim blocked out Blair’s pleas, focusing instead on the memory of the crazed kidnapper holding his impetuous charge and the thought of how things might have played out. Billy and Jim had easily found the distraught Sam Pino at the end of a dirt road leading from the wash. The man was sobbing uncontrollably while holding his scared seven-year- old daughter tightly to him. He yelled and cursed at the approaching officers, threatening to harm his daughter while at the same time declaring that she was the only thing left that he had to live for. The experienced officers held back, looking for an opening, gauging how desperate the upset man truly was. Billy was doing his best to talk some sense into the man, assuring him that no one else had been called, that he could walk away now and they would get him professional help. Sam seemed ready to capitulate when a second truck came barreling down the road right past Jim and Billy and came to a jerky stop mere feet from where he stood. Thinking he’d been lied to, he yanked Blair out of the truck before the youngster even realized what he had blundered into. Allowing his frightened daughter to run into Billy’s waiting outstretched arms, Sam turned his attention to the wiggling boy in his grasp. Several tense moments passed as Billy frantically implored Sam to release Blair…citing the horrible impression that he would be leaving on his child, cajoling him into finally releasing his hold. The exhausted man crumbled to his knees as Jim rushed up to take Blair from him. Jim held Blair tightly, barely restraining himself from turning the boy over his knees right on the spot. He knew that Blair needed his comfort and reassurance more than anything right now. There would be time soon enough to dole out punishment. Billy transported Sam to headquarters in his truck, followed by Jim and the two youngsters in Franklin’s truck. The crying child snuggled into Blair’s warm embrace and allowed the still shaky kid to soothe her with nonsense words of comfort. Taking in the sight, Jim heaved a large sigh, silently giving thanks to whatever gods had watched out for them all today. After making sure Billy had everything under control at the station and confirming that they wouldn’t be needed for anything else, Jim and Blair headed back to Franklin’s place and to the moment of retribution, which was now at hand. Steeling himself to the task, Jim brought his right hand up, ready to deliver a very sound spanking. Concentrating on his squirming guide, Jim failed to notice Franklin’s approach. As his hand completed its upward arc, he was surprised to find his wrist captured in the tight hold of the older man. Blair looked up through the wild curls that hung suspended near the floor to peer awkwardly back over his right shoulder from his position over Jim’s knee. He sighed in relief at the sight of Franklin holding Jim’s wrist, preventing the sentinel from following through with the spanking, assuming he had won a reprieve. Jim’s cold hard voice sent a shiver down Blair’s spine. “I thought I told you to stay out of this.” The words came out through gritted teeth, slowly and deliberately, directed so that the old man could clearly read his lips. Franklin only laughed. Before Jim could say or do anything else, he found a small wooden paddle thrust into his hand. Franklin released his hold and stepped back. “Hey, he’s your guide. I would never dream of interfering.” At the sight of the object now held by Jim, Blair’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Grandfather! No! What are you doing?” The two sentinel’s eyes met briefly, acknowledgement and acceptance swiftly exchanged. Jim took another look at the paddle, still poised in midair, and noted with amusement the small picture of Kokopelli burned into the handle. The paddle was small, round and not designed to cause any real damage, just a healthy sting. Jim gripped the handle firmly and delivered a spanking that Blair, even years and many spankings later, never forgot. The rapid swats now peppering his backside caused Blair to renew his pleading and wiggling. “Owwww! Ouch! Ow! Ow! Ow!’ The paddle unerringly found its mark over and over again. The stinging, burning sensation in Blair’s rump grew steadily as Jim spelled out what Blair could expect regarding the present, and any future, transgressions. “I’ve accepted this whole sentinel/guide thing.” Smack. Swat. Smack. “And the bottom line is…” Jim chuckled softly at his play on words. Swat. Swat. Swat. “I’m in charge.” Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. “I’ll listen to you when it comes to the guide stuff.” Swat. Swat. Swat. “But, by god…” Smack. Smack. Smack. “I will not put up with disobedience, lying or unnecessary risks on your part.” Smack. Swat. Swat. Smack. “You’re too important to me, junior.” Swat. Swat. Swat. “And I don’t just mean the guide stuff. I love you, kiddo.” Smack. Smack. Smack. As the spanking continued, Blair’s pleading dissolved into hiccups and sobs. When it finally ended, it took a few moments for Blair to realize that paddle had been thrown aside and Jim’s hand, now warm and gentle, was rubbing soothing patterns on his back. When Jim felt some measure of calm return to the small figure, he carefully helped the youngster up off his lap. He immediately pulled the boy into a warm embrace, tucked the curly head under his chin and planted a small kiss on the crown of curls. Blair melted into the hug, allowing Jim to soothe and calm him. “Shhh, kiddo…take it easy.” A gentle rocking motion had started and Blair easily fell into the motion. A heartfelt apology spilled out through sobs and hiccups. “I-I’m s-sorry Jim. I only w-wanted to help. I-I just f-found y-you. I don’t want to-to lose you.” “I know, I know. You’re not going to lose me. I love you too, junior. We’ll make this work, I promise. But if there’s a next time…” Jim began. The curly head quickly shook a denial. Jim chuckled softly and continued, tilting Blair’s chin up so that the youngster could see the promise in Jim’s eyes. “If there’s a next time, it’ll be your bare butt that will be over my knees.” Blair, Jim and Franklin stayed up long into the night; savoring the remaining time they had together, exchanging promises of visits and phone calls. Blair stared in disbelief as Franklin presented Jim with the small paddle, chuckling as he explained that Jim would need it more than he would. Jim and Blair finalized their plans to meet up again in Cascade and move Blair into Jim’s loft. Blair had started a token protest to the arrangements, which were quickly dismissed when he mentioned that the accommodations he had made for the upcoming school year were in an old warehouse down near the docks. Eli Stoddard showed up the next day to collect his student. He smiled approvingly at Franklin’s high praise of Blair’s accomplishments and all that the boy had learned. Jim sighed heavily as he watched Eli and Blair drive off, the curly head hanging out the passenger window, the boy’s right hand frantically waving a last farewell to Franklin. “You’re one lucky sonofabitch.” Franklin’s black eyes narrowed with a touch of envy. If the trickster had anything to say about the old man’s foolishness he held his tongue. Jim laughed and looked the old sentinel in the eye. “Yeah, I know.” The next few hours were spent peacefully, both men pretending to enjoy the quiet void left by the departure of the enthusiastic, hyperactive guide. Billy soon showed up to taxi Jim back to Flagstaff to catch his flight to Cascade. Heartfelt goodbyes were once more exchanged and the old man was left to his own musings. As the departing truck disappeared from the sentinel’s keen sight, a familiar shape took its place. The trilling of the flute once again drifted across the mesa to the old man’s deaf ears and he laughed out loud, calling out across the wide expanse. “Go home, Kokopilua…I’ve had enough fun.” End.