Title: James Joseph Ellison, Lawman

Author: Scribe

Fandom: The Sentinel

Type: AU

Pairing: Jim/Blair

Rating: NC17

Summary: Jim and Blair, now an established couple, try to help a woman caught in an abusive relationship.

Archive: Yes, but tell me where.

Feedback: poet77665@yahoo.com

Status: Complete

Sequel/Series: Hearts of the West Series

Disclaimer: I did not create the characters here, I don't own them. I derive no profit from this effort. I mean nothing but respect for the creators, owners, and the actors and actresses who portray them.

Websites: http://www.angelfire.com/grrl/scribescribbles and http://www.angelfire.com/grrl/foxluver

Notes: Originally appeared August 1, 2002 in My Mongoose Ezine The Many More Sequels of the Sentinel. Author notes: The AMA was founded in 1847, and this story takes place in the late 1880s, so it was well established. The 'womb manipulation' reference may be a bit early. I got it from 'The Road to Wellville', a fictional look at health fads in 1907. Since it focused on Kellogg (inventor of corn flakes), and he had been operating for more than twenty years at the time of the story, I figured it wouldn't be too far off (and it was too hilarious to pass up).

James Joseph Ellison, Lawman
By Scribe

When Jim awoke he was aching a bit, but it was a familiar and well-loved ache. Eyes still closed, he smiled slowly and rolled on his side, snuggling against the warm, solid body lying beside him. Jim slid his arm across the broad, hairy chest of his bed partner, his friend, his Guide, his lover--Blair Sandburg.

Blair was snoring, an activity he categorically denied. Jim eased his head over onto the rising and
falling plane of the younger man's chest, and listened. He sifted through the rumble of the snores,
down past the gentle rush of respiration, and focused on Blair's heartbeat. He let the steady pulse wash over him. //This is peace// he thought. //How can such a bundle of energy give me this sense of serenity, especially when he's usually driving me crazy?//

Blair snorted, the puff of air lifting the red-brown curtain of hair that half covered his face. This
always happened when he didn't pull his hair back into a tail before he went to bed. Jim was so fond of playing with the long, silky strands just before he dropped off to sleep that Blair usually let it go. He often made Jim 'pay' for the privilege by combing out his hair in the morning. Jim's big hands were so deft that he seldom pulled a snarl. Blair suspected that he'd have to choose another method if he wanted to punish his lover. More than once he'd been awakened by Jim rummaging industriously in his hair, trying to get it tangled enough to warrant a Sentinel comb-out.

Blair sighed and rolled toward Jim. Eyes still closed, he threw an arm and a leg over his lover's body. Jim kissed his cheek, then gently scraped the light stubble with his teeth. "Good morning, Beautiful."

The younger man groaned, but his lips curved in a smile. "Beautiful, Ellison?"

"Hey, you're the one who showed me that it wasn't just women who could be beautiful. Besides, you get snippy if I call you pretty."

"I should hope so. Pretty is too ladylike." Blair opened his eyes, staring directly into Jim's face,
tracing over high cheekbones, down lean cheeks, to his mouth. His voice was quiet, and a little concerned. "How are you?"

A few months ago Jim would have automatically assured Blair that he was absolutely fine--no problem. Now he shrugged. "A little sore--nothing bad."

Blair frowned, forehead crinkling. "God, I'm sorry, Jim. I tried to control myself, but..."

Jim stopped him with a kiss. "It was as much me as it was you. I get a little crazy when you're away. Actually, you're damn lucky I didn't give the town confirmation of some of their suspicions. When you rode in yesterday it was all I could do to resist dragging you off Burton and ravishing you in the middle of Main Street."

Blair chuckled. "If you're desperate to do it outdoors we can go to the pond. Main Street is entirely too dusty." He yawned lustily, then murmured, "Now I know that you love me--you didn't pull away from my morning breath."

Blair got up and stretched. "I'd love to spend the day here in bed, but Megan is bringing Raphaella over today."

Megan and Rafe's baby had been born two months before--Blair's first delivery in his new hometown. He hadn't wanted to leave town so soon after her birth, but when Megan had learned that one of his old professors was lecturing in Seattle she had insisted that he couldn't afford to pass up this opportunity. Blair had finally agreed, not so much to renew old acquaintances, but because he was determined to keep abreast of the latest medical advances. He was subscribed to every medical journal available, but as he told Jim, "There's no substitute for personal instruction." While Jim could appreciate this, Blair had been gone for two weeks, and Jim had been slowly going crazy.

When Blair headed toward the washbasin on the dresser, Jim got up. "Hang on, I filled the water heater on the stove last night."

"Thanks."

While Jim was gone, Blair quickly brushed his hair and pulled it back in a tail. When Jim returned with a steaming jug of water he frowned and said, "Hey!"

Blair shook his head. "No, you're not getting your hands on the hair this morning. I have things to do."

"Spoilsport." Jim poured the water into the basin. "I get to shave you, then."

"Oh, all right." Blair tried to sound annoyed, but failed miserably. He loved it when Jim wanted to
perform these little grooming intimacies. He didn't know if it was Sentinel powers, or just Jim, but the big man had a wonderfully delicate, but sure, touch.

Jim soaked a cloth and wet Blair's face, then Blair watched as he stirred up a thick lather in the shaving mug. The younger man lifted his chin so that Jim could brush the lather evenly over his face and throat. Jim stropped the razor till the edge was hair thin. He gripped the top of Blair's head with his free hand and began to shave him.

It was a sensual experience, feeling the razor shave off his stubble, leaving clean skin behind. He was tempted to close his eyes and enjoy the experience, but he didn't want to stop looking at Jim. His lover's expression was quietly intent as he worked. Those blue eyes that could be so cool were gentle. He knew that very few people had ever been privileged to see Jim Ellison like this, and it touched him.

When Jim was through he wiped Blair clean with a warm cloth and ran a thumb along Blair's jaw. "I'm afraid it will never rival Raphaella's butt, but it's pretty smooth."

"And how would you know about the baby's butt?" Blair asked, amused.

"Rafe and Megan are still newlyweds. I figured they needed a little time together, so I kept her
overnight." He shook his head, smiling ruefully. "She took her bottle real easy, but I'll be damned if it all didn't leak right back out."

Blair got dressed while Jim was shaving, then went into the kitchen to start the coffee. After that he passed through the front room and went into his exam/treatment room. When he'd decided to stay in Cascade the townsfolk had rallied round and built this addition to Jim's place. It was a medium sized room with plenty of cabinets to hold most of his equipment and supplies. Besides an exam table, there was a comfortable sofa. The more naive citizens of Cascade believed he slept there. Aside from a few catnips when he didn't want to leave the front, though, it didn't get much use.

He'd taken the opportunity while in Seattle of stocking up on supplies, saving the shipping costs. This might mean a bit of profit, since many of Blair's patients were cash poor. He took his fees in barter more often than not. Now he spent a few minutes putting away his medicine.

When he was finished he went back to the kitchen, to find Jim breaking eggs into a sizzling skillet. Blair shook his head, but took a strip of bacon from the plate in the warming box. "We're going to have to start eating more oatmeal and fruit for breakfast, Jim. All the salt and fat in the bacon isn't healthy, and I'm beginning to have my doubts about eggs."

Jim snorted. "Blair, if it wasn't for bacon, half the people in America would never have meat." He snorted again. "Unhealthy."

During breakfast Blair told Jim about the new theories being advanced that seaweed could be a nutritious dietary addition. Jim kept his skepticism to himself, just enjoying the tone and cadence of Blair's voice. Sometimes the man's chatter could get a bit numbing, but Jim had had two weeks of quiet to remind him of how deadly empty his life had been before Blair arrived.

As they were clearing the table there was a knock on the front door, and Jim said, "That's probably Megan. You go on--I'll finish here."

Blair wiped his hands and strode through the house to the front door, a grin forming in anticipation. He liked most of the residents of Cascade, but Megan had been one of his first friends. She and baby Raphaella held a special place in his heart. The young woman on the front steps was adjusting a light blanket around her baby. "Well, if it isn't the two most beautiful women in the north-west!" He held out his arms expectantly.

Megan willingly transferred the baby. "You're a silver-tongued flatterer, Sandy. I'm just glad that
you've settled down, so I don't have to worry about you around Raphaela when she starts to grow up."

Blair cooed to the baby as he led her mother into the exam room. "Yes, well, I think maybe Daddy Rafe is going to spend a few nights waiting at the door with an axe handle when this one grows up, just putting some respect into the local young bucks. You've settled on brown eyes, haven't you, Miss Ella? How's she been doing, Meg?"

"Oh, lovely, Sandy, just lovely! I tried her on that formula you suggested, and it worked a treat. Now I'm not worried if my milk does dry up."

"Still getting a good flow?"

"Yes, but it's not quite enough to satisfy her highness, so I supplement."

"Good. You should keep her on the breast as long as possible. There's something about mother's milk that helps the baby stay healthy. Now, missy, let's check you out."

Blair proceeded to examine the baby, carefully warming the cup of his stethoscope before he placed it against the fragile chest. Megan watched with the slight edge of anxiety felt by all new, first time mothers, despite their trust in whoever it was who was handling their child.

Blair finished by weighing and measuring the baby. "Oh, she's thriving, Meg! She's grown almost a half inch, and she's gained another three ounces."

"Wonderful." Megan began re-swaddling the baby. "There is one other thing I wanted to talk to you about."

Blair looked up alertly from where he'd been recording his notes on the exam. "Nothing wrong with Rafe?"

"No, he's fine. It's just..." she bit her lip.

Blair put down the pen and paper, saying quietly, "Whatever it is, you can tell me. You know that, Meg."

"I know. It's nothing personal, Sandy, it's just... I'm not sure this is any of my business, but it's so
soon after I had Raphaella, and a woman's bound to feel a little kinship in a case like this." She
sighed, sitting on the sofa, jiggling the baby. Raphaela, who had been quite contented, stared up at her mother in puzzlement.

Blair sat beside her and waited. Finally Megan nodded, deciding. "A week ago a couple came to town--the Bolivars. The first thing Mr. Bolivar did was try to sell the wagon to Rafe, but he had no use for it, and it didn't look like it could go much farther without falling to pieces. The same could be said for all of them--man, woman, and horse."

"Who do you think I need to look at--the man, the woman, or the horse?"

Megan smiled, slapping his shoulder, but her expression sobered again. "I want you to look at Mrs. Bolivar, Sandy. She's riper than a Georgia peach in late August."

"When did she last see a doctor?"

"She hasn't," said Megan curtly. "Her husband doesn't like the idea of a man, any man, looking at his wife."

"Ah." That wasn't an unusual prejudice. More than once Blair had examined women who were in the final stages of conditions that might have been stopped if they had come to him earlier. But they had been held back by either their own modesty, or the suspicion of their menfolk. "If she'd just come in. She can stay fully dressed, and her husband can stay with her the entire time."

"I don't think he'll go for it. But she's around the livery most of the time, and we have a cuppa now and then. It wouldn't be all that odd for the town doctor to be visiting."

"Megan, I don't know how much I can do under those circumstances. I mean, 'Pleased to meet you. Pass the cookies. Would you breathe deeply while I put this against your chest?'"

"She wants you to check her over, Sandy. She's worried. If she's there, her husband shouldn't be too suspicious."

"Where are they staying?"

Megan flushed a little, looking down at the baby. "At the livery. The husband says they don't have enough to stay at the hotel. Jim offered them one of the cells, but Bolivar bristled up like an offended cat. Seems he doesn't like lawmen. Well, I couldn't let them sleep out in their wagon, not with her in such a delicate condition. We have a free stall, full of good, clean straw. I talked Rafe into letting them sleep there."

Blair shook his head. "Still, it's better than what a lot of people have. What's Mr. Bolivar up to?"

Megan's face hardened. "Mostly he's at the different poker games in the various saloons. He doesn't have money for a hotel room, but he managed to work up enough of a stake to get into the games. He claims he's going to win enough for them to buy a place and settle down."

Blair winced. "Big dreams."

"The thing is, Sandy, with this bloke I doubt if it would happen even if he did win the golden pot. He'd just keep going till it all ran through his fingers. In the meantime, I'd like to at least see that the nipper gets a proper chance at a good start." She stood up. "Come on over after lunch. He should be out in the saloons by then."

The morning was busy. There were a slew of bumps, cuts, bruises, and sprains that had accumulated while Blair was gone. Most of them were minor and could have been easily dealt with using the home remedies that the Cascade citizens had resorted to before they had a resident physician, but everyone wanted to welcome Blair back and see if there was any gossip from Seattle. By lunch Blair had collected three dollars in cash, a dozen eggs, a small sack of potatoes, and a cherry pie in payment. He carried it all back to the kitchen, where Jim was setting out the cold meat, bread, and cheese they usually favored for lunch. Blair carefully deposited the pie, saying, "Dessert courtesy of Mr. Robinson's mashed thumb. I won't tell you what I had to do--it might spoil your appetite."

"Wonderful! Mrs. Robinson has a light hand with pie crust. I was on the receiving end of a number of those back when she thought I might be prime husband material for her eldest daughter."

They sat down to eat. Jim said, "I'm assuming that Megan and Ella are all right?"

"If everyone were as healthy, I'd be out of business. I'm going to have to make an outcall this afternoon, so if anyone comes by while I'm gone, just ask them to wait. If it's an emergency, I'll be over at the livery."

Jim looked up sharply. "I thought you said they were all right."

"They are. It's one of their visitors I'm to see."

Jim chewed a mouthful of bread thoughtfully. "That would be Mrs. Bolivar." He sighed. "I'll bet that her husband doesn't know about this." Blair nodded. Jim shook the torn piece of bread at him. "You be careful, Chief. Bolivar is a skinny little fellow, and he doesn't carry a weapon as far as I can see, but he has a mean look to him. He snarled worse than Darwin does when someone goes poking around your wagon when I offered them use of one of the cells." He shrugged. "Pride is one thing. Lots of people don't want help, seeing it as charity, but he was ready enough to take
whatever anyone else wanted to give them. I think he just doesn't like 'officials'."

Blair finished a wedge of cheese and pulled the pie toward him, cutting a wide slice. "Do you have
anything vital planned for this afternoon?"

"Nothing that can't be put off."

"Would you mind tagging along, then? Maybe visiting with Rafe while I'm visiting Megan and the missus Bolivar?"

"And perhaps keep an ear out for other, less welcome, visitors?"

Blair shrugged. "As long as you're there."

Jim grinned. "And people around here think you're such a straight-forward, guileless man." He watched as Blair took a bite of the pie, then reached out and used his fingertip to catch a red blob of filling that was escaping from the corner of his mouth. He licked it off his finger, earning an interested look from his lover. "Eating healthy. Hah."

Part Two

Blair and Jim walked down to the livery stable, enjoying the late morning sunshine. Darwin, who slept in the forge building these days, ambled after him, comfortably full of bread and meat scraps. Blair carried the black bag that held his equipment and supplies for house calls. The couple exchanged friendly greeting with passing citizens. Usually the townsfolk would have stopped them for a chat, but the black bag denoted that this was not strictly a pleasure stroll, so they let the two men move on without interruption.

Just before the stable they paused. Jim said, "I'll go on back and have a word with Rafe, then check on Ranier."

Blair nodded. "Drop in on Naomi and Burton, too, would you?" Jim rolled his eyes. "Look, just keep out from under her hooves. She gets worse if she thinks she's being ignored, and she's bound to be in a snit since I went off with Burton for so long." Jim grumbled. The temperamental mule, named for Blair's deceased mother, was not his favorite creature. Not since she'd tried to take a mouthful of his hair that time he'd been kissing Blair in her stall. His hair was deserting fast enough without help.

They separated, Blair walking next door to the small, neat house that Rafe now shared with his wife and daughter. Megan had hired a manager for her store, letting the man sleep in the rooms she had once occupied on its second floor. She still went by her place of business, keeping her hand in, and would probably go back to working there part time once Raphaella was a little older. She just wasn't the sort to be satisfied with nothing but housekeeping. Luckily Rafe admired her independent, industrious nature. Many Cascade citizens were rather scandalized that he allowed his wife to work outside the home, feeling that it was not only unnecessary, but improper, now that she had a man to support her. Rafe's response was "Whatever gave you the idea that I'll 'allowing' anything?"

Blair rapped at the front door. He heard a murmur of voices, and the door was opened by Megan. She shot the medical bag a quick glance, then winked at him, saying, "Sandy! I'm so glad you could come by. I didn't want to take Raphaella out with that breeze blowing. Please, come in."

Blair stepped into the parlor. He was immediately aware of the thin //too thin// woman sitting on the sofa, but he fixed his attention on the cradle sitting near the her. "I'm sorry I'm so late getting here, Megan, but I had a couple of patients to see to first." He pretended to be surprised. "Oh, you have a visitor."

Megan shut the door. "It's all right, Sandy. She knows what's going on."

Blair looked disappointed. "Does this mean I don't get tea?"

Mrs. Bolivar laughed. She sounded a touch nervous, but she extended her hand, and Blair took it. "I'm pleased t' meet you, Dr. Sandburg. I'm sorry it has to be like this. I'da ruther gone to your consultin' room, but, well..."

"Say no more, ma'am. I understand."

Now she cast her eyes down, blushing, and Blair reflected that she had once been a very pretty woman. But long months on the trail had roughened her skin and hair, and she was far too thin, especially for an expectant mother. The shabby //but clean, painfully clean// dress hung on her loosely, almost concealing her swollen belly. "I... I'm afraid that I won't be able t' pay you--not right now. But..."

He patted her hand gently. "Don't trouble yourself about that," he ordered. "We just want to see that you and baby are safe."

She bit her lip. "Sir, my husban' is a... a rather vo-latile man."

Blair looked at Megan. "Megan, Jim is visiting Rafe." He looked back at Mrs. Boliver. "Jim Ellison--the constable. A very observant man, and possibly a little nosy. He'll probably want to announce any visitors he sees coming." The woman relaxed a little, and Blair opened his bag, taking out his stethoscope.

He examined the woman with gentle authority, questioning her about her history, especially since
she had first known she was pregnant. He didn't like it at all when she told him that she had lost two babies mid-pregnanacy, and another had lived only a few hours past his birth. "Poor mite managed t' stay inside longer'n t'others, but it still weren't long enough, I guess."

"How far along are you, Mrs. Bolivar? May I?" He gestured toward her belly, and she nodded. Blair began to gently palpitate her abdomen as she spoke.

"Wal, that's a puzzle, Doctor. I can't rightly be sure. Y'see my monthlies ain't ever been exactly
reg'lar. I've done skipped a month more'n once. When it happened this time I just figured that's what it was. I thought I was past havin' t' worry about catching a baby." Her expression softened. "Allus wanted one, though. Homer, he'd get mad ev'ry time, since I allus felt poorly, an' couldn't take care of the house t' his satisfaction." Blair kept his face tipped down so she wouldn't see his scowl. "But he was right mad at me when that little boy died. Guess ev'ry man wants a son in his own image. Child lived long enough to be baptised, an' he named 'im after himself."

"What a surprise," Megan murmured dryly.

"Anyways I could be anywheres from seven months t' just about ready t' pop."

Blair felt a shifting under his palm, then another, and sighed in relief. "There's good, strong
movement."

Mrs. Boliver smiled. "There's that, all right. I can scarcely lay down nights without that 'un tryin' t' dance a fling."

"That's good, very good." He packed away his instruments. "Your chest seems clear, and your
breathing is strong, but your pulse is fast, and your blood pressure is a little high. I don't like that.
Now, even though you're nicely tanned, you look washed out. Tell me, have you had any problems with tiredness, dizziness or fainting, possibly headaches?"

Mrs. Boliver nodded. "But we been on the road so long, an' that ol' wagon is just so jouncy."

"That could be part of it, but your gums and nailbeds are pale. I noticed that your nails are ragged..." She tucked her hands in the crook of her arms, flushing, and he said quickly, "No, I'm not commenting on you personal grooming, ma'am. It's just that brittle nails are one symptom of anemia. And I see that you have parched lips, too." He cleared his throat. "I'm going to have to ask you something indelicate, but please don't take offense. This could be very important." Mrs. Boliver nodded hesitantly. "When you evacuate your bowels, how are the stools?" Mrs. Boliver blinked, then looked at Megan.

"He means what does your shite look like?" When Mrs. Boliver covered her face in embarassment, Megan hugged her shoulders. "C'mon, love. Sandy will take it to the grave, and it might make a real difference."

The other woman's voice was muffled. "I'm not sure what he wants to know."

"Have you noticed any blood?" Blair asked.

"I told you, not for months now," Mrs. Boliver said confusedly.

"No, ma'am, your waste. Has there been any blood, or are your stools black and tarry?"

"Oh. Oh, no. It ain't been much different from usual." She made a face. "Cept it don't happen often enough t' keep me from bein' cranky."

Blair fought down a smile. "I can give you something for that. But about the stools, that's promising. It means that perhaps the anemia isn't as severe as it might be. How much milk do you drink?"

Mrs. Boliver shrugged. "Milk ain't easy to come by on the road, an' it's dear in town."

//No more expensive than the beer I expect your husband has been drinking in the saloons.// "Jim and I get a pail a day from one of my patients. I'm sending some of it over here for you, and I want you to drink all of it. I want you to eat plenty of greens and fruits, too. And red meat--liver if you can stomach it." She was looking more and more dismayed. "Mrs. Boliver," he said gently, "we'll find a way. This is for the baby as much as it is for you, you know."

"I can see that she gets proper grub, Sandy," Megan said firmly. "If her old man says anything about it, I'll tell him she's helping me with Raphaella. I doubt he'll turn down food."

Blair took out two bottles and a small box. He held up one bottle. "This is the same tonic I gave Megan when she was expecting, ma'am. The other is a vitamin solution, and the tea will help keep you calm and lower your blood pressure, and..." he smiled mischieviously, "take care of that other problem. I want you to take it as easy as you can--no vigorous activity, and don't go lifting anything heavy."

Mrs. Boliver regarded the medicine with round, awed eyes. "Homer will want t' know what that is, an' where I got it."

Megan rolled her eyes, then took the medicines. "No need for him to know about these. I'll keep them for you."

Jim came in from the side hall. "Hello, Megan. I came in through the side door, hope you don't mind." He nodded cordially to Mrs. Boliver. "Ma'am, I do believe I saw your mister on his way over."

Blair quickly repacked his bag, grumbling, "And I didn't even get any tea."

Megan slapped his shoulder. "Grab a cookie from the plate on the kitchen table on your way out, mate."

"And hustled out the back door," Blair lamented, as Jim herded him through the door into the hall that led to the back of the house.

"Come on, Sandburg," Jim whispered good-naturedly. "Don't tell me this is the first time you've had to slip out the back to avoid a woman's husband."

"No," Blair whispered back, "but this is the first time I've done it fully clothed, and the first time it didn't come as a surprise that she was married."

Once outside they started back home. "How is she?" Jim asked.

Blair sobered. "Well, not in //immediate// danger, I think, but not good.

They walked in silence for a while, then Jim said, "She was wearing a shawl over a short sleeved dress when I offered them the use of one of the cells. The shawl slipped, and there were bruises on her arms--everything from fresh to yellow-green."

Blair frowned. "I don't like that. The anemia..."

Jim interrupted him. "I don't think it was anemia, Chief. Judging form the quick way she covered up and the shamed look on her face, I think it was another matter entirely."

Blair stopped so fast he almost skidded, his eyes wide with outrage. "He //hits// her?"

Jim grabbed his elbow and started him walking again, hissing, "We're on public display, Sandburg." He nodded at a child who was sitting on the hitching post in front of the Decker Saloon. Dropping his voice he said, "Don't shout out the poor woman's troubles, Chief. It'll only make it harder on her."

"But Jim," Blair protested, "a man who'd hit a woman... My God, his own //wife//, and her carrying his *//child//*..."

"I know, and I feel the same way. But damn it, Blair, there isn't anything I can do. As much as it poisons me to say it, it isn't even against the law, not unless he's clearly endangering her life."

"But we can't just sit back and let it happen."

"I'm not. If I see or hear of him doing anything to her, I'll //find// a way to lock him up, but he seems to be laying low since they been in town."

"Jim, if you get the //least// opportunity, take it! I'm a physician--I'll testafy that such treatment
could be fatal. It //could//, you know, with her in such a delicate condition. He could kill her //and// the baby." His face twisted briefly. "I've noticed that some people who aren't willing to reach out to help a breathing woman will get downright obstreporous in defense of her unborn."

"Some people find it easier to fight for a concept than a person, Chief."

Blair's mood had not lightened by the time they got back to their place. He took his bag back into the exam room. When he returned he saw Jim hanging the little sign that said 'The doctor is out' on the front door knob. "What are you up to?"

Jim shut and locked the door, then walked to where Blair was standing in the doorway between the rooms. "You started the morning in a good mood. I want to get it back." Blair lifted one eyebrow questioningly. Jim smiled, put his hands on his partner's shoulders, and guided him backward into the exam room.

Once inside Jim pulled off his boots and began to unbutton his jeans. Blair watched, head cocked to one side and a faint smile growing on his face. "What are you up to?"

Jim pointed to the metalic folding arms that attached to either side of the exam table's end. "I've been curious about those contraptions ever since you got that thing."

"The stirrups?" Blair unfolded the arms. They locked in place about shoulder height, spread far enough for a man to stand between them comfortably. He ran his fingers over the curved bands on each stirrup. "They're designed so a woman can keep her legs up and apart without too much strain during an exam or delivery." He sighed. "Of course, I've never had a chance to use them. None of the Cascade ladies would dream of such a thing, and Rafaella was in such a hurry to get here I never got Megan out of her and Rafe's bedroom."

Jim peeled off his jeans and drawers, leaving himself naked from the waist down. "Well, it's about time you tried them out, isn't it?"

Blair was fighting back a chuckle now, but the sight of his lover's half-hard prick was warming him up quickly. "I don't understand. Are you worried that you might be pregnant?"

Jim slapped him lightly on the side of the head. "I thought that maybe you should take a look at my prostate, after the workout it got last night, and I figured this..." he nodded at the table "might be a bit easier on my back than bending over."

"Oh." A fire kindled in Blair's blood. "Oh, yes. Yes, that strikes me as a good idea." He patted the
table. "Up you go."

As tall as he was, Jim didn't even have to lift up to be able to sit on the table. He slid back, lay down, and lifted his legs. Blair caught his feet and gently guided each one into a stirrup. "I always have the ladies draped in a sheet when I do this. Well, I //would//."

Jim folded his hands on his belly, tilting his chin so he could look down his body, between his lifted legs, at Blair. "That won't be necessary."

"If you're sure." Blair took a bottle of oil from the shelf, coating his fingers. He went back to his place at the foot of the table, but paused, his left hand stroking the inside of Jim's thigh. "Are you sure about this, Jim? You aren't still too tender from last night?"

"What do you need to convice you? Do I have to wink at you?" He flexed his buttocks, the pucker of his sphincter squeezing.

Blair lost it for a moment, collapsing onto his body in laughter. Jim smiled, letting him recover for a moment, then humped up gently, rubbing his awakening erection against his lover's belly. Blair stood back up, wiping his eyes. "You're gonna kill me some day, Ellison, but I'll die happy. Now..." He reached down and stroked the length of Jim's crack, eliciting a shiver. Blair started to rub around Jim's anus, pressing firmly. "Mmm, you seem as tight as ever. You're a resilent man, Jim."

Blair slid one finger slowly and carefully into Jim's body, watching and feeling for any sign of pain or tension. There were none. Jim took the single digit easily, with a soft sigh, crossing his arms behind his head. "Oh, that's so good that it's relaxing, is it? I'll have to remember this. Maybe I'll write a paper on the relaxing effects of internal massage."

Jim laughed, pushing back as Blair slid a second finger into him. "Oh, yes, I can just imagine the
reaction of the American Medical Association. The public would flock."

"You might as well take the sarcasm out of your voice, Jim." Blair pumped his fingers slowly, gradually spreading them to stretch his lover's anus. "The upper class of the American public has already embraced 'womb manipulation'." His fingertips rubbed over the tiny, fleshy nub deep within Jim, causing him to arch and moan with pleasure. Sandburg grinned. "I think that prostate manipulation could find an even more enthusiastic following. Think of all the men out there who could enjoy themselves without admitting that they desire something long and hard up their ass."

"Speaking of which..."

Blair pulled his fingers out. "Right, right. Impatient." He quickly opened his pants, freeing his
cock. Stroking it, he said, "You're the only one who's ever been able to get me completely hard without touching me, Jim." He leaned over and kissed the inside of Jim's right thigh. "All I need is to look at you, touch you," he buried his face in Jim's crotch, sniffing deeply, then giving his quivering cock a quick lick, "smell and touch you, and I'm stiff without ever touching my dick."

"If I got it in that state, then it's mine. Give it to me, Sandburg."

Blair fitted his cockhead against Jim's slick opening and pushed slowly inside, hissing in pleasure as the tight heat engulfed him. Jim moaned, folding his hands back to grip the edge of the table over his head, arching into the thrust. "Oh, so good," Blair moaned. He started to fuck with long, slow strokes.

Jim undulated under him, squeezing now and then. He kept his eyes fixed on Blair, a tiny half-smile on his face. Blair whispered, "You're something special, Ellison, you know that? I knew I wanted you the minute I saw you, out at the pond, but I kinda thought that //I'd// be on the receiving end."

"Truthfully? So did I. Now, shut up and fuck me."

Blair obliged. They moved together in a familiar rhythm. But since the stirrups took strain off of
both partners Blair felt free to embellish his style with a few unexpected twists and deep grinds. Jim showed his appreciation with a wide assortment of growls and whimpers. Blair grunted as he thrust again and again. "You love it, don't you, Jim?" he marvelled.

"Yes!"

Blair reached down and gripped his lover's cock, stroking him quickly. "What do you love?"

"This! I love this, but it has to be you, Blair, only you. Only ever you inside me."

"Yes." Blair had been raised as a free spirit. He had admired those who could bind themselves
exclusively to another, but he had never understood. Now he did. Jim... Jim was all he wanted, ever, and he needed Jim to want only him. "Mine." He thrust even harder. "Mine!"

Jim cried out as Blair's cock battered against his prostate, sending electric waves of pleasure through his body. "God, //yes!// I'm yours, Blair."

Blair leaned in even closer. He continued stroking Jim's prick with one hand, but the other crept up to cup his cheek. "And I'm yours. You know that, baby, don't you? Tell me you know it."

Jim released his grip on the table to cover Blair's hand, turning his head to kiss Blair's palm. "Yes, I know." Again he bore down with his inner muscles, squeezing Blair. He whispered, "Let me feel how much you love me."

Blair's head dropped, his hair trailing over Jim's chest and belly, as he climaxed. Jim moaned in
pleasure as he felt the hot, liquid release bathing his core. Then he moaned in regret as he felt Blair's still half-hard cock slide out of him, But Blair quickly shifted to kiss and nibble Jim's straining nipples as he continued masturbating him. In only another moment Jim stiffened, spilling his seed over Blair's quick moving hand.

Finally they were both still, breath slowing to normal. At last Jim grunted, "I love you, but get off
me so I can get up. Those stirrups are great for short term use, but my legs feel like they're getting ready to cramp."

A chuckling Blair helped him lift his legs down, then massaged Jim's thighs till the danger of cramps had passed. He did up his pants again as Jim gathered his clothes and started to get dressed.

Blair hated to spoil the warm atmosphere, but his nature kept his mind turning back toward how he could help others. "Jim? I'm worried about Boliver. From what I've heard, he's the footloose kind. I've seen his sort before, and I'm a little surprised that he still has his missus in tow. What's going to happen to her if he decides that a wife and baby are too much of a drag?"

Jim was stamping his foot into a boot. He didn't look up. "I can't say as I think that would be much of a tragedy. Sometimes no daddy is better, depending on the daddy in question." He looked up at Blair, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. "I know at least one person who turned out fine without a father hanging around." He straightened, gripping his lover's shoulder. "Cascade is a big hearted place, Chief. If it //does// come to that, Mrs. Boliver will find that she isn't so alone after all."

Part Three

Blair finished putting the last stitch in the boy's leg, then swabbed the area with alcohol and bandaged it. "There. Lord, Clarence, you're ten years old. I would've thought that by now you would have learned not to try to swing a cat around by his tail. I don't blame old Tom for what he did." The boy's lip trembled, and he frantically tried to scrub the tears off his face. Though he had no sympathy for anyone who'd mistreat an animal, Blair's gentle nature won out--as usual. "You'll know better from now on, won't you?" Clarence nodded vigorously. Blair took a jar off the counter and said, "You did good. Horehound or lemon?"

"Lemon!" Clarence almost shouted, tears forgotten. Blair fished a bright yellow candy out of the jar and handed it over. Clarence walked out, grinning, ready to lord both his candy and his battle wound over his friends. Blair shook his head, smiling reluctantly. //I'm going to be seeing a lot of that boy till he grows some sense.//

Jim poked his head in the door. "Got a few minutes, Chief?"

Blair flopped on the sofa, patting the cushion beside him. "Unless one of Clarence's friends decides to try to take that lemon drop away, then I may have a bloody nose or a loose tooth to deal with."

Jim sat beside him. "If they do I'll give them the 'fear of God and the law' lecture."

Blair hooked one leg over Jim's and rubbed his partner's short, silky hair. "Much as I love a mid-day visit, I have to figure there's a reason behind this besides affection."

Jim sighed, looking at his hands. At last he said, "The mayor came over."

Blair went still, watching Jim closely. "Was it about the sheriff job?"

Jim nodded. "He asked if I wanted it. The town council is ready to set up a regular force, with a sheriff and at least two deputies to start with. In a year or two, if we keep expanding like we have, they intend to make it a regular police force, hire on even more men." He paused. "He offered me the sheriff position."

Blair nodded. "I knew they would. What did you tell him?"

Jim sighed. "I told him I'd have to think about it."

"We've discussed this. Now that your senses are coming under control you could do so much. You said that you wanted to use them to help others."

"I do, Blair, and that's why I'm hesitant."

"I don't understand."

"Like I said, we're growing. Two--three years and the police force could have a dozen men, or more. I've seen seen how these things operate, Chief. When you have that large a group the man in charge is just that--in charge. He's busy co-ordinating and dealing with the political side of things. He seldom has time to work on things personally--he has to deligate. Chief, what good would my senses do if I was stuck in an office, behind a desk?"

Blair nodded slowly. "I hadn't looked at it from that angle, but you're right. But you're the best
qualified, and..."

Jim was shaking his head. "Not necessarily. In fact, there are some things about me that might make me..." he cocked his head, smiling faintly, "well, not exactly unsuitable. Let's say less suitable than others. I'm a single man with no family... *Ow!* Don't poke me, Sandburg! You know damn good and well that I mean in the eyes of the outside world. *I* know we're married."

Blair twisted the heavy gold ring he wore on his left hand--a twin to the one Jim wore, and said mockingly, "Don't *make* me remind you, Ellison." When Jim laughed, Blair gave him a brief kiss. "All right, you don't want the position yourself. Do you have anyone else in mind?"

Jim's response was immedieate. "Simon Banks."

Blair raised an eyebrow. "Simon's a good man, but he's a farmer."

Jim shrugged. "And I'm a blacksmith. Besides, he wasn't always a farmer. Simon cashiered out of the army as a top sergeant, and he learned how to handle men. He's smart, tough, and fair. As for image, he's a solid, respected citizen--a widower with a teenage boy that he's raising to be a fine man. I think he'd be perfect."

"What does Simon think about this?"

"We've talked. He wants to get into law enforcement, but he hasn't felt like he could afford to do it part time. The farm would suffer unless he had a hand, and he's been too cash poor to hire one. He isn't going to push Daryl into taking on too much."

Blair knew why, and he approved. Out of necessity, all children in this still rough land started to help out with chores as soon as they were able. Most of them had to go to work full time, either on a farm or in a family business, when they were in their early teens. Simon was determined that his son would stay in school as long as possible, and he had already asked Blair for advice on how to continue Daryl's education once the boy had learned everything he could in Cascade.

Blair knew his Sentinel, knew Jim's stubborn, independent streak. "You've had it to yourself for a long time. It wouldn't bother you to have to answer to someone else?"

"Not someone like Simon," Jim said firmly. "I know him, and I trust his judgement. "What I've been considering is that I could be a deputy. I'd be paid just enough to cut back on my forge work, only doing it when I had time, and I'd be working on the most basic level of law enforcement."

Blair sat back a little, studying him. "So, what are you asking me? And *why* are you asking me?"

"Should I tell them to offer the position to Simon, and take the position of deputy? And as to why I'm asking..." He took Blair's hand and stared down at it, rubbing his thumb slowly over its back. "People think of sheriff as a dangerous job, and it is, to a degree, but that's mainly in the one or two lawmen towns. With more men working, the sheriff is more insulated, farther away from the possibility of violence. But a deputy is right out there in the thick of it." He looked up at Blair. "Cascade is growing, like I said. The most I have to worry about these days is a few drunken fistfights at the saloons and some neighborly disputes about wandering cattle or chickens in someone's garden, but that's going to change. We already have close to double the traffic through here that we did when you arrived, and it won't be long before we have a railroad depot, then the floodgates will really open. It's going to be a lot more dangerous."

Blair felt his heart squeeze. "You're telling me that you might get hurt." Jim just looked at him, and Blair hitched in a deep breath. His voice low, he said, "You're telling me that you might get killed."

"There's always a chance," Jim said softly. "I know how to handle myself, and I'm cautious, but there's always a chance. I didn't want to decide this without talking to you."

Blair's laugh was shaky. "You're something special, Ellison. I don't think there's one in a hundred men who'd actually discuss such a decision with their spouse, no matter how much they loved them. They'd just see it as *their* decision."

"But it affects us both, Chief." He touched Blair's face, running a finger over one high cheekbone. "I love you. I don't want to do anything that will hurt you."

Blair caught Jim's wrist and turned his head to lay a kiss on the big man's palm. "You would never deliberately hurt me, Jim. I know that. You want this, don't you?" When Jim hesitated Blair said, "Don't try to tell me what you *think* I want to hear. This relationship won't work unless you're truthful with me, and true to yourself."

"Yes, Blair. I want this."

Blair nodded. "Then I want it, too. I'm not saying I won't worry." He grinned. "I'm a natural worry-wart about people I love. But I worry anyway, and I might as well worry while you're in a satisfying job."

Jim took a handful of silky hair, gently tugging Blair closer, and kissed him softly. "God, I love you, Sandburg. What say we traipse over to the Layabout and I buy you lunch and a beer?"

"Sounds good to me." Blair wrote a note to leave on the front door, telling where he would be, and they left. The Layabout, despite its name, was one of the more upscale saloons in town. The girls who worked there really //were// more hostesses than harlots, and those so inclined could get a simple meal.

There was a poker game going on in the corner, the five players hunched over cards in a weary manner that said it had probably been going on since last night. There were two hostesses hovering in the background. One of them, Velma, perked up when she saw the two men enter. The other glanced at them, then went back to leaning over one of the players. Judging from the way she was occasionally running her fingers along his arm or shoulder, he'd probably tipped her before, and she was hoping for more.

The saloon girls, living more closely with the 'real' side of life than many of Cascade's citizens, all knew that the big, handsome constable and the vivacious town docter were a couple. But both of the men were handsome, pleasant. They flirted occasionally, and treated the girls decently. They were favored customers.

She bustled over as they took a seat. "Well, hello, gents! I 'spect you'll be wanting some grub. The cook's tryin' somethin' new today. He got a recipe off of a little Cajun gent who came through, somethin' called gumbo. Looks kinda like a chicken stew, and it smells real good."

Jim wrinkled his forehead. "Gumbo? That sounds strange. I'll just have a steak, Velma."

"Well, when gumbo is good, it's *really* good, so I'll try that," Blair said.

Velma brought them two beers and went out to the kitchen to place their order. As they sipped, Jim said quietly, "When you get a chance to look without really looking, Bolivar is the skinny one that Louellen is hanging over. He looks like he's been here since yesterday."

Blair took a sip of his beer, glancing over casually. The thin man with his back to the wall was hunched over his fan of cards. The redheaded saloon girl was trying to whisper to him, but he absently swatted at her, never taking his eyes off his cards. Blair frowned. Bolivar was a sight too casual in the way he treated women to suit Blair. "He could use a shave."

Jim's nose wrinkled. "He could use a bath, too."

Jim's senses could still amaze Blair. "You can tell that from here?"

"Christ, Chief, between his reluctance to bathe and his sleeping in the stables I'm surprised *you* can't tell."

"That pile of money in front of him is pretty scanty." He watched as Bolivar pushed the rest of his cache into the pot, swatting at Louellen again when she whispered to him urgently. "And getting scantier by the minute."

"Maybe he'll win."

"Jim, if I was up against him I'd mortgage Naomi and Burton and bet it all against him. That is the *weakest* poker face I've ever seen, and I've earned my way a time or two with the cards."

Sure enough, less than a minute later Bolivar threw his cards on the table so hard that they flew off into another player's lap. His voice was raised beligerently. "I shoulda won that pot! I ain't never had sech a run of bad luck in my life. It ain't natchural!"

"Uh oh," said Blair quietly.

Jim tensed. It sounded like Bolivar was getting ready to make an accusation of cheating. Calling a dealer's honesty into question usually led to a fight, especially when the dealer happened to be the owner of the establishment, like Lucas. Sometimes such accusations led to a funeral. There was a city ordinance against carrying guns, but but since Lucas was in his own place of business he was exempt. After all, this was still too close to the frontier to deny a man the right to protect his property.

The dealer stood up slowly. He a head taller than Bolivar, and almost twice as bulky. "You questioning my honesty, mister?"

Louellen recognized the danger before Bolivar did. "He don't mean anything by it, Lucas."

Bolivar scowled. "I don't need your petticoats to hide behind, woman. I'm jest saying it don't seem right."

"You could have left any time," Lucas said coldly. "You were up near twenty dollars last night, but you just had to keep on playing. Every streak ends, good or bad, so don't fuss at me because you didn't have enough sense to quit while you were ahead."

"Yeah, yeah. This bad streak's gotta end. Just give me a little credit, and I'll..."

The gambler laughed. "//Credit?// Who do you think I am--the doctor?" He glanced over at Blair and called, "No offense meant, Doc. I got nothing but respect for you, but you //are// an awful soft touch sometimes." Blair just waved at him. He knew it was true.

Louellen was tugging at Bolivar's arm. "Why'nt you come on up to my room, darlin'? I got some time off now, an' I bet I could change that run of bad luck for you."

Bolivar shook her off. "I need sleep, not fucking."

Bolivar stalked away from the table, muttering darkly to himself, and ignoring Louellen's hurt expression. She turned and went toward the stairs that led up to the girls' rooms, her steps slow. Jim mentally shook his head. What was it that made some women fall for men like Bolivar? Sure, he could understand Louellen wanting to find herself a steady man, but Bolivar was *anything* but steady, and he was already married. She had to know that--such things weren't kept secret in such a small town.

As Bolivar passed their table Blair said, "Mister Bolivar?"

The other man stopped, giving him a suspicious look. "Yeah?"

Blair stood, offering his hand, "Blair Sandburg. Like he said, I'm the town doctor."

Bolivar stared at him. "What do you want?"

Blair kept his friendly smile in place. "Well, I was hoping you'd have a beer with us."

Bolivar shook his hand and took a seat as Blair beckoned the waitress. "If'n it's all the same to you, I'd just as soon have a whiskey. They's beer is weak as water."

Blair quirked an eyebrow at the idea of whiskey that early in the afternoon, but he ordered it. He gestured at Jim. "You know Constable Ellison."

"I know 'im." The whiskey came, and he downed it quickly. Blair said, "I hear that you're expecting a blessed event." Bolivar's expression was blank. "A baby."

"Oh, that." His tone was sour. "Yeah, she should pop 'im out any day now."

"I just wanted to ask you to be sure to let me know the moment the baby starts to come. Don't worry what time it is, I'm used to being rousted in the middle of the night."

"Won't be no need for that. She ain't never had a sawbones before."

Blair's expression tightened, thinking of Mrs. Bolivar's history of miscarriages, and the dead baby, but he couldn't mention them without letting Bolivar know that he'd talked to his wife. "So, all her other deliveries have been trouble free?"

Bolivar stood up. "I don't rightly see as that's none of your business." As he headed toward the door he snarled, "You can just keep your thoughts off'n my woman, sawbones."

Blair stared after him. "I don't believe it. He *can't* love her, not when he neglects her care and lets her live in such conditions."

Velma brought their food, unloading the tray in front of them. Jim pulled his plate closer, picking up his knife and fork. "It isn't love, Blair--it's possessiveness. He laid claim to her, and even if he doesn't really want her, he doesn't want anyone else taking an interest in her. He even resents the hell out of the time she spends with Megan, but since she's supposedly helping to pay for their stay, he allows it. Velma," he addressed the waitress. "Do you have any idea of how serious Louellen is about that man?"

Velma sighed, resting the empty tray on her hip. "Too durn interested. She's been passing up opportunities to make good tips with the other customers to flutter around him. I think that Lucas is getting ready to have a talk with her about her work habits. Don't know what she sees in that ornery, cheap little cuss." She made a sad face. "She says he reminds her of her daddy."

She left, and they started their meal. After a few spoonfuls, Blair put his spoon down, sighing. Jim
cocked his head. "Gumbo doesn't live up to your expectation?"

"No, no, it's fine. Excellent, really. It's just that my appetite is kind of damped down."

Jim stopped eating, giving Blair his full attention. "What's worrying you, Darwin? You don't lose interest in food unless something's troubling you."

"I didn't like the mood Bolivar was in when he left here. I don't like the idea of him going home to his wife--to his fragile, //pregnant// wife in that mood."

"Rafe and Megan are there with her, Chief. They won't let anything happen to her."

"I know they'll try, but it wouldn't take much to do a lot of damage."

"I wish there was something I could do, but the law doesn't allow for preventative measures. It's hard enough to get anything to stick with the laws the way they are now."

Blair picked up his spoon again, then slammed it back on the table angrily. "Well, that's //wrong// Something needs to be done to keep a woman safe instead of waiting till she's either in an invalid's bed or a grave from abuse and neglect. California became a state more than thirty years ago, so there's no excuse for it to still operate with such archaic laws. It's time someone started working to correct the situation."

Jim smiled faintly. "I'm sure you will, Darwin. I'm sure you will."

END

Notes: The AMA was founded in 1847, and this story takes place in the late 1880s, so it was well
established. The 'womb manipulation' reference may be a bit early. I got it from 'The Road to Wellville', a fictional look at health fads in 1907. Since it focused on Kellogg (inventor of corn flakes), and he had been operating for more than twenty years at the time of the story, I figured it wouldn't be too far off (and it was too hilarious to pass up).