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2020-11-05
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2009-10-09
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Untamed Savage

Summary:

This is an AU, set in the old west after the War between the States. Walter is not in law enforcement though he does go with posses at times. Fox is a half indian boy of 9. This story is my own creation, though there are other stories such as Darby and Wolf, Frontiers and Independence that are along the same lines. This is not a take off on any of them. I have, however, read and enjoyed the aforementioned stories and only hope my creation is half as well received as they were.

Chapter 1: Chapter 1- The Hunch

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own X-Files characters, I just play with them, and hug them and squeeze them and call them George, oh wait, wrong story, Anyway, I don't own them but I like to play with them for free of course. shake.
Warning: This story will deal with many issues, including the corporal punishment of a child. If you don't like this then go on by.
The Indian words in this are Lakota Sioux, I have tried to put the translation right beside the words. I will include a glossary at some point in time.
Thank you to Joey for betaing.

Chapter Text

Untamed Savage
by Ciejye

 

Chapter One - The Hunch

Walter Skinner was not sure why he rode west that morning instead of east. His lands to the west were semi-wild, not as tame as the ones to the east where the broken fences were that needed to be mended. But on that cool crisp October morning he headed out the direction of the setting sun. His horse was a chestnut stallion, that he had saved from an encounter with a mountain lion when he was a colt, the scars left by the claws were the only mark on the steeds flanks. Walter rode erect without even a thought to what he was doing. His eyes scanned the horizon for trouble as he kept one hand near the rifle in the scabbard on his saddle. One could never be too careful in this wild and savage land. He was a big man, with broad shoulders and narrow waist. His soft brown eyes never missed a detail as he worked on the large ranch. He was dressed simply in jeans, a soft cream colored shirt and a sheepskin coat. Well worn boots one his feet, a tan Stetson hat covered his bald head and shielded his eyes from the bright sun.

The reins were held lightly in one hand, he surveyed this area of his lands. The area was dotted with pine trees and shrubs, enough to help him remember this was not the east, but the wild and untamed west. A little ways off was a stand of trees that lined the winding river that further down the line came close to his house. It was fed from the mountains off in the distance. He always smiled when he saw the mountains. His Sharon would have loved them had she lived, but that was long ago and this was now. His beloved wife lay in a grave on his father's land in the east. Another victim of the bloody war between the states. He felt the weight of guilt increase on his shoulders. It wasn't his fault they had all said, no it wasn't his fault, he was away fighting another battle when the rebel soldiers came to his home. He was engaged in a battle for a scrap of land as his beloved battled for her life against the Johnny Rebs who raped and murdered her before they set fire to the house and barn. Not his fault, he couldn't even keep his wife safe in their own home. He left the east shortly after he returned home and found the grave. His father wanted him to stay of course. but he knew his son too well. After he ensured his son had a letter of credit, a good amount of cash and a string of horses, the father watched his boy ride off into the setting sun and prayed he would be happy.

A strange sound brought his attention up from his reverie. Something was not right, He listened carefully, his time in the army during the last war taught him not to be hasty and rush in without checking things first. He listened carefully, there it was again, that noise, it sounded like a small animal in pain. He chirped again to his horse as he urged him up the small hill in the direction of the strange sound, he wondered what animal it was to have made a sound like that. Over the rise and past several mesquite trees, he found the answer. A boy, in a breech cloth, was faced off against a man. The boy wielded a wicked looking knife, and was caught, held by something around his foot. Walter looked closer and saw it he was caught in a trap at the edge of the river. A man who was missing the tip of his nose, poked at the boy with long stick. Each time he poked, the boy would move which caused his foot to move in the sharp teeth of the trap. The sound came from the boy as his foot moved would make that sound of pain. The boy lifted his head and looked right at him. Walter felt his heart leap, this was a child, from the looks of him barely 10 years old. Walter drew his rifle and cocked it. The sound was distinct in the clear morning air.

"That's enough." His words were sharp and the commanding tone it them unmistakable. The man and boy both turned to look at him. The look on their man's bespoke of irritation at the interruption.

"Ride on, this is no concern of yours," the man said as he stopped for a moment.

"I'm making it my concern," Walter said firmly as he raised the Winchester. "You are trespassing on my land. Now release the boy and I might let you live."

"Didn't know this land was owned," said half-nose. "He's a damn thievin' half-breed, I don't know about you but we don't allow no damn thieves to get off unpunished where I come from. I'll just take him with me off your land."

"I said leave him." Walter growled in a voice that brooked no disobedience. "Now mount up."

Half-nose didn't look happy at the command but obeyed, his eyes held a venom that reminded Walter of the war, and what he had seen there. Once in the saddle half-nose turned to Walter, "I want my traps back."

"You are trespassing and poaching on my land, be grateful I let you leave here with your life." Walter growled back, "Now ride!"

Half-nose shot a look of pure hatred at the large rancher then at the boy still caught in the trap, he spurred his horse savagely and nearly rode the boy down as he headed down river.

Walter watched until he was out of sight then dismounted. He moved cautiously towards the boy, the rifle still in his hand but no longer pointed or cocked. The boy tried to back away, his foot caught still, he fell to the ground but brandished the large knife at the man.

"Easy now boy, I am not going to hurt you, I just want to get you out of that trap." Walter said as he set his rifle out of the boys reach against a tree. With empty hands he motioned toward the trap. "I am just going to open the trap and get your foot out." The boy eyed him suspiciously, and swiped at him again with the knife. Walter moved back quickly but still ended up with a slice on his coat sleeve. "Tarnation boy, I am not going to hurt you." The boy didn't look as though he believed that. His long hair fell half in his face as he lunged again with the wickedly sharp looking knife. Walter waited until the boy had made his lunge then grabbed the boy's arm and twisted it. The knife fell from the nerveless fingers to the ground, Walter swept it behind him out of reach.

The boy let out a string of expletives that threatened to turn the air blue around them and ended with, "Give me back my knife!"

Walter listened to the tirade, unimpressed, until the boy took a breath. "If you're done, let's get you out of that trap."

"Fine!" The boy kept his half veiled eyes on Walter the entire time as Walter opened the trap, the teeth pulling out of the boys leg. That got a reaction, the boy screamed out in the pain and scooted back. Walter made a mental note to check the river for other traps, and looked at the boy's foot. The teeth had sunk into the flesh, and no doubt the way the boy had moved had caused some of the tearing up. Walter felt the bones under the skin and was relieved that none seemed broken. He scooped the boy up in his arms and stepped to the shore of the river. The boy clung to him at the sudden movement, and let out another string of foul words as Walter plunged his foot into the icy water.

"THAT'S cold!!" The boy screeched as he tried to get out of the water. Walter simply held firm. He knew the icy water would both clean the wound and help with the swelling. The boy continued to curse and struggle, but he was no match for the older stronger man.

Finally, Walter had had enough, still holding on to the boy, with his strong right arm, he let a swat land on the half clad rump. The boy was shocked into silence. "Enough, I don't want to hear any more of that foul language come out of your mouth. Understand?"

The boy was shocked at the sting in his rump, no one had ever hit him like this before, and this man hit hard. He tried to out glare the older man, but the brown eyes didn't look away. They held his firmly in their gaze. The boy finally looked down. "Howe," he said using the Lakota word for I understand.

Walter nodded firmly, the boy looked to be about 9 or 10 years old, with long brown hair divided into two braids and secured with rawhide strips. He was skinny and filthy, the breech cloth stank, a bath was due soon. A large nose was prominent in the middle of the young face, full pout lips, and the most striking green eyes Walter had ever seen. It was clear the boy was a half breed, no Indian ever had eyes like that. "What is your name?"

The boy looked at the man for a long moment, to tell someone your name was to give them power over you. But this man had saved him from the other, and got him out of the trap. The sting from the swat reminded him this man probably not be the most patient man in the world. Still there was something about him that made the boy feel safe. "Sungila," he said in Lakota, then translated, "Fox."

Walter nodded to show he understood, in the time he had been in the west he had learned a lot about the tribes and their customs, he knew the boy had taken a risk when he told him his name. "Walter Skinner. What's your white name?"

"I AM NOT WHITE!" the boy exploded with such venom Walter almost dropped him in the river.

"Your eyes say different," Walter said dryly.

Fox cursed again under his breath. His eyes were the one thing that set him apart, that made his people treat him differently, and let every white know he was a half-breed. He shivered.

Walter felt the shiver, he cursed himself for a fool questioning this boy when he was cold and hurt. Walter pulled Fox's foot out of the icy water, grabbed the rife and the knife up then carried him to his horse. He set the boy on the saddle and swung up behind him. He placed the rifle in the scabbard and the knife in a saddle bag, before he unbuttoned his coat and tucked the boy inside.

Fox immediately began to struggle, he did not want to go with this mountain of a man. He wanted down so he could leave. A firm swat to his unprotected thigh and the command, "Be still," settled him down. The large man was comfortable to ride against, and it was warm in his coat. Fox sighed softly. He would let the bear of a man hold him. He would leave soon, and go off to find his sister. It was his only hope of ever becoming a man.

Walter pulled the boy's freezing feet up under his coat, and rubbed them with his hand to try and get some heat back in the boy. He was not that far from his place, and urged his stallion into a canter to get them there quicker. Once in the yard, Walter dismounted and pulled Fox down into his arms. Amazed at how light the boy was, he wrapped the reins around the rail and strode into the house with distance eating stride.

* * * * * * * * * *

 

Walter's home was not as large as his home had been in the east, but it suited his needs. A living room with a large fireplace was across from the front door, a separate area for the kitchen and dining room off to the left. To the right of the living room were two doors, one led to a bedroom, while the other led to a study. The furniture was leather and wood, functional and sturdy. He had not built the house, but it served its purpose.

He carried Fox into the house and kicked the door closed with one foot. He stepped into the bedroom, pulled back the covers and placed Fox on the soft feather bed. After he covered the boy back up he poured a glass of water from the pitcher and set it near him. "I am going to get what I need to take care of that foot, you stay put. I'll leave the door opened so you can hear me." *and so I can keep an eye on you* he thought as he walked out of the door.

A few minutes later he was back with a basin of hot water and several clean bandages. He had taken the time to put up some water up to heat, and some beef up to cook, then went into the bedroom again. He pulled out the wooden tub and set it up in front of the fire, then put out a couple of towels. He kept one eye on his young charge as he opened the large trunk at the foot of the bed. It didn't take him long to find what he wanted, a shirt that was too small but too good for a rag. It wouldn't really fit, but it was better than the boy going around naked.

Fox, for his part, watched the large man move around. He was awestruck at the sight of water coming from inside the lodge, that had to be the spirits at work. His lips parted in an expression of wonder "Hoh." Perhaps this man was a medicine man, or a great spirit talker, perhaps he was a god. Fox shivered as he watched the man, Walter, move around the lodge then come back to the bed. His eyes seemed so gentle, not hard and harsh like Witankanka (One who is proud), who always waited hurt him when he was alone.

Walter brought a chair over to the bed and sat down on it. "I am going to clean out the wound now Fox, I will be as gentle as I can but I have to do it, and it may hurt."

Fox swallowed hard and nodded. "Howe," he said softly.

True to his word, Walter cleaned the wound on the boy's foot as gently as he could. His fingers unexpectedly tender on the child's flesh. Even as gentle as he was Fox was hurting a great deal by the time he was done. "Good boy," Walter said with a smile.

Fox flushed crimson at the unexpected praise. He yelped out as he was lifted from the bed by a pair of strong arms. "Calm down boy, I'm just going to give you a bath." His arms tightened about the little boy as Fox started to struggle mightily at those words. "Settle down boy."

As they got closer to the tub, Fox's struggles became more fierce, his legs started to kick which jarred his foot. "No, please let me go, no."

Walter stopped and looked at the boy in his arms. "What is going on here? Why are you so upset over a bath?"

Still Fox struggle and squirmed, "I am not Winkte!" (wants-to-be- woman) he yelled, then bit hard. His teeth sunk into Walter's shoulder as the older man winced in pain. Fox released his hold on the shoulder as a blazing pain seared his rump, once then twice the fire burned. As soon as he had released the shoulder, he felt himself suspended in mid air. Walter held him firmly by the torso at eye level. And those brown eyes blazed with anger.

"I will tell you this just once little boy, I do not think you are Winkte, He cu sni yo! (Don't do that!) I don't use boys like women. And if I EVER hear you use that term again I will tan your hide 'til you can't sit for a month! Neyeh howe ichinca? Adiwasti, yudah agisti, eah, atsista," (Do you understand child? Wash, eat food, talk, bed.)

Fox looked at the hard brown eyes, and saw the man did not lie. He did not want to use him just to get him clean. "Howe, wicasa okinihan. Adiwasti, yudah agisti, eah, atsista," (I understand, Sir. Wash, eat food, talk, bed)

Walter set the boy into the tub and got the buckets of water. He added enough hot so the boy was not chilled and dumped it over his head. A soft chuckle as the boy sputtered, then another bucket of water. Walter took up the washcloth and soap and in a few minutes had the boy's hair clean, then started on the rest of him. Fox glared at this man as he blushed to his roots with indignation at being washed by this man. After all, Fox was 9 summers, and the man of his home, or at least he would be when he got his sister back.

There that's better." Walter smiled as he finished scrubbing the boy clean. He wrapped the boy in one towel and grabbed another one to dry his hair. Fox balanced on one foot as he patiently endured being dried. Walter was even able to get a giggle out of the lad when he played a bit of peek a boo with him. The childlike giggle warmed Walter's heart, it was good to hear laughter again. Walter slipped the shirt over the boy's head, it hung like a tent on the little tike. "Good now that you're clean we can eat, and talk," Walter said as he bandaged the boy's injured foot.

Walter carried Fox to the table and set him in a chair. He dished up two portions of the beef broth that had been simmering, and set one in front of the boy with a chunk of bread. Fox never hesitated, he immediately dunked the bread in the broth and began to ravenously eat. He stuffed bread and broth in his mouth in great chunks, and of course began to choke. Walter watched as the boy cleared his mouth. "Slow down," was the stern command. The boy slowed down.

Walter ate his own broth and bread, then pulled out a large pot and set it on the stove. To it he added a chicken he had killed and dressed the day before. He had kept it in the ice house off the back of the house. He covered the chicken with water and added a few carrots and onions. Then he set it back on the stove covered with a lid and left it to simmer. The chicken would be easy on the boy's stomach and fill them both up more than the broth would. "Finished?" He asked when the boy leaned back in his chair and looked sated. "Ho," (Yes) the boy nodded as he answered.

Walter assessed the little boy, and decided this conversation would be better done with the boy in bed. He stepped over to the child and lifted him easily in his arms. As before Fox began to struggle the moment the man's arms tightened around him. "He cu sni yo!" (don't do that) Fox snarled, he sounded just like a cat.

"Settle down now," Walter said gruffly as he walked over to the bed. "I don't want you on that leg of yours 'til its healed more." Walter was about to set Fox down on the bed then he had a thought. "Do you need to use the necessary boy?" Fox colored red and hesitated, then shook his head. "Heyah,"(No) he lied. Walter frowned, and shifted the boy in his arms to grab the quilt on the bed and wrap it around the boy. He carried Fox outside to the privy, he set the boy down inside and pointed to the hole. Fox blushed again, how did this man know when he was lying. Fox was nothing if not stubborn. He crossed his arms and shook his head. Walter simply closed the door and waited. Several minutes later he heard proof that the boy had indeed lied to him and opened the door when the sound stopped. He picked Fox up in his arms again turned him over and delivered one stinging swat to the quilt covered bottom. "I won't tolerate lies," Walter said simply and carried Fox into the house.

Once the boy was in the bed, Walter took a seat in the chair. "Now we need to talk. I know you speak English, so lets stick to that. My Lakota isn't so good." Fox nodded. "Tell me why a boy of your age was out there alone. Where is your family?"

"They are all gone. My sister was taken in a raid. I tried to stop them but they were warriors. My father was killed by the council for his part in a raid, he betrayed us all." Fox's face was clouded by the harsh memories. Walter could see he was reliving that night. "My mother was killed by the white men when she took me from the village. See after father was killed it was no longer safe for us or at least for her there. She was white. She didn't talk to me after that day, I know she blamed me for Ahnahgohwin being taken."

"Ahnahgohwin, was that your sister?" Walter asked gently.

"Yes, her white name was Samantha." Fox said as he wiped his eyes with the back of his small hand. "Anyway, mother took me with her when she went to the white man fort, but on the way we met up with some men and they.. they .. after that they killed her. I escaped into the woods and have been living on my own ever since. I can't go back to my people until I find my sister. Then I can be a man."

Walter was overcome with a wave of compassion for this little boy. He didn't doubt the story was true for an instant, the boy had maintained eye contact with him the whole time, and this was not a boy who could lie easily. Walter saw the pain in the boy's eyes. and in that moment made a snap decision. He had not known this child for very long, and heaven knew Walter was not the paternal type, but still there was something about the boy. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You can't travel on that foot. There is no question of that. I know you want to look for your sister, but let's face facts boy, a child is not going to be able to find out as much as fast as an adult." He held up a hand at Fox's protest. "Here is what I am proposing. You stay here with me. You have already said you can't go back to the Lakota without your sister. And being half Sioux, there's no place for you in the white towns. I wish it were different but it's not. You can stay here with me and heal. Then when your foot is good enough to travel we will go to town together and I will see what I can find out about your sister. I will send a few telegrams to some friends I have in the military and see what we can find out. After we find your sister, THEN we will decide what to do next."

Fox looked at this man, the compassionate brown eyes, and gentle, if worn face. "You would help me? Why?"

Walter reached out one hand and ruffled the boys hair. "Because you need the help. Because I like you and I don't want to see a child out there alone."

"I am not a damn child!" Fox said forcefully as his hand slammed down on the bed. Why did everyone insist he was a child, he was a man. He knew it why didn't they?

The compassionate eyes hardened for a moment as Walter frowned at the exploitative. "I don't tolerate foul language in my home boy." He didn't yell or even raise his voice but Fox knew he meant what he said.

"Sorry."

"I want you to stay here with me. I know you don't think your a child but you are. You need someone to care for you. To see that you eat right and wash, to teach you right from wrong and to curb that little temper of yours. I think you want that too. I don't care that you are part Indian. You don't have to give that up, it is a part of who you are. But if you keep going the way you have been, alone out on your own, one day your going to get into trouble and no one will be around to get you out. Those men were poaching on my land, but you were stealing from their traps. Two wrongs don't make a right. They could have killed you. or locked you away where you would never again see the mountains and rivers." Walter didn't want to unduly frighten the boy but some harsh facts were needed right now. "I am not going to lie to you boy. I am not an easy man to get along with. I don't tolerate foul language, lying or disrespect. I expect you to do what your told but I also expect you to have some fun too."

Fox sighed softly, it would be nice not to have to travel all the time, to have someone take care of him, to have a full belly every night. He missed these things. Then he realized this man could keep him here like a slave if he wanted. But he had given him a choice. Fox respected that. And he was going to help him find his sister. Yes, he would trust this man. "I will stay," he said simply.

Walter smiled, "Good." For some reason his heart felt lighter now that he knew this boy would stay. Fox smiled back at Walter, his whole face lit up with that one simple smile. Walter felt his heart melt, he reached out and ruffled the chestnut mop. Fox grinned as he yawned. "We will talk more later boy," Walter said as he covered the boy with the other quilt. "You get some sleep while I see to the chores."

Fox yawned again and snuggled down into the warm nest. For the first time in three months his belly was full, he was clean and dry and warm and comfortable. And most of all, he felt safe. True his bottom still stung a bit from the swats he had received, but that was not too bad and for some reason even that gave him comfort. Someone cared what happened to him was his last thought as he drifted off to sleep.