Chapter 4

"I'm tired," Shawn complained for the hundredth time, dragging his feet.

"Shawn," Juliet sighed wearily, "please. Everyone is tired."

"But Lassie said that we would be at the next town hours ago!"

"I said," Lassiter growled, "that we would be in the next town in a few hours a few hours ago."

"Exactly!" Shawn said.

Juliet and Gus both rolled their eyes. They had formed a sort of camaraderie throughout the constant bickering of the other two. When Shawn and Gus argued, it was one thing, but Lassiter was a grown man, after all.

"You know," Shawn sniffed, "you should be more tender with a kid who almost died. Be more tender, Lassie!"

"I'm being tender," was the savage reply.

"Hey," Juliet said, "look. There's a man coming this way. He must have come from town. He'll know how far we have to go."

"We're saved!" Shawn cheered, punching Gus' arm, who winced and only just stopped himself from hitting back. The slave was still wary of Lassiter, a man of the law.

The sheriff's son sprinted ahead, high-kneeing it over the thick grass. He looked utterly ridiculous—but not as ridiculous as Gus, who followed at his heels with his arms practically raised over his head.

"For the love of Mike," Lassiter rolled his eyes.

He and Juliet followed at a much more appropriate pace, him leading the way to trample down the leaves so she had an easier time of it. Not that she needed him to do that, which they were both clear on. Juliet was a strong girl with four older brothers and knew how to take care of herself, so Lassiter didn't have to treat her like a helpless little girl. Yeah, he knew that. Understood. But he was still walking ahead of her because her skirts kept snagging on sticks and stuff.

By the time they caught up with Shawn and Gus, they had already engaged the oncoming young man in conversation.

"Hello," Lassiter greeted cordially, sticking out his hand.

"Hiya," the man responded with a grin, shaking it. "These yours?"

"I'm their supervisor, yes," Lassiter said. "Are you coming from town…?"

"Ryan," the stranger supplied. "Ryan Bainsworth. And yes. You looking to visit…?"

"Lassiter," he nodded. "Carlton Lassiter. Just making sure we're headed the right direction to get there."

Ryan nodded. "Well, it's just through those trees." He pointed into the thicket.

Lassiter drew his brows together, about to point out that it looked little traveled.

"Not a lot of people come this way," Ryan continued. "Most have boats to land at port, and you can keep walking that way if you like. But if you go through here you'll be there a lot faster."

"I see," Lassiter said. "Thank you, Bainsworth. We'll keep following the river, though, so we don't get lost."

"But Lassie!" Shawn whined. "He said it was a shortcut! Do you know what that means?"

"Yes, I know what a shortcut is. But this is unfamiliar territory."

"Lassie, the woods make it shady. It's hot out here."

Ryan shrugged, indicating that it wasn't his problem either way. "Look, if you do decide to follow the river, you should keep an eye out for Sasquatch."

"Uh, Sasquatch?" Gus uttered, eyes widening and darting around as though expecting something to jump at them.

"Oh yeah," Ryan said seriously. "We've got Sasquatch bait set up and everything. It shouldn't be a problem…If you get to town before dark. Hey, maybe I'll see you guys later! I'm going to go check some fishing lines."

With that, he turned and walked away.

Juliet and Lassiter snorted a bit.

"There's no such thing as Sasquatch," Juliet chortled.

"Yeah," Lassiter smirked, but his lips turned down almost immediately when he spotted the boys. They were both huddled by the nearest tree, crouched low and looking warily about them. "Oh, for the love of…There's no such thing as Sasquatch!"

"Really, boys," Juliet shook her head. "Aren't you a little too old to believe in silly fables like this?"

"You're never too old to be careful," Gus piped up wisely. "That's what my mama always says."

"Well, your mother is right," Lassiter conceded. "But in this case, you're applying it to the wrong thing. There's no such thing as Sasquatch."

When the boys did not get up, he rolled his eyes again.

"Here's the plan. I'll go first. If there is a Sasquatch—and there isn't—then he'll come after me, first."

"No, he won't," Shawn said, wrinkling his nose. "He'll go after Jules. Everyone knows that girls can't run as fast, and their meat is tastier. You're going to get Jules killed, Lassie! And then he'll eat Gus!"

Gus turned a shade paler.

"And then he'll eat me!" Shawn continued. "And then, if he's still hungry, he'll eat you, Lassie. But if he's not, he'll take you back to his lair for a midnight snack. He'll turn you into Lassie Jerky!"

"I'm going," Lassiter said flatly. "And if you're not right behind me, you're getting left behind!"

He started off down the riverbank without a glance backwards. Juliet waited for a moment to see if they were going to move, then decided that they probably would if she followed at the man's heels. She shrugged unapologetically at them.

"No, wait!" Shawn cried.

"Come back!" Gus added.

The other two did not stop.

"What do we do, Shawn?" Gus asked.

"We could leave them to die and take the shortcut for ourselves."

"We have no money or food. I thought we needed Lassie for that."

"That is true. We might have to wait for Sasquatch to get them, then steal some Lassie Jerky for the trip."

"Shawn!" Gus pinched his friend, who gasped and winced at the sharp pain.

"Ow!"

"Lassie has guns," Gus stated.

"Oh yeah. Maybe we should go with them—for protection."

"Yeah."

"Let's go."

They bolted from their bad hiding place, running like newborn colts after their friends.

"We're coming!" Shawn hollered. "Wait up! We're coming!"

Lassiter and Juliet shared a victorious glance. The girl paused to wait for them to catch up, but the officer forged ahead.

"You see?" Lassiter said, turning as the boys reached them. He pointed his hand at them. "Sasquatch still hasn't come for us. He's not real!"

"Yes, he is!" Shawn insisted. "He's just waiting for the perfect moment to attack. You should get your pistol out, just in case, Lassie."

Lassiter opened his mouth to respond as he folded his arms, but the quick sound of a snap! distracted them. The group stood in silence for a split second before Lassiter began screaming.

The children could only watch in horror as Lassiter, still screaming in agony, began to hop on one foot, lifting his other to reveal the steel trap caught around his ankle. Gus made a choking noise. No one could move even as Lassiter fell to one side, then tumbled down the embankment and into the river with a splash.

He was immediately pulled away by the current.

"Oh my god!" Juliet uttered, at last pulled out of her shock. "Carlton!"

She took off down the bank, struggling with her skirts.

Shawn and Gus shared a look.

"He stepped in the Sasquatch bait," Gus whispered, wide eyed.

"We should probably try to save him," Shawn said back, grimacing.

They hurried after Juliet, who tore her petticoat free from a bramble bush. The trio looked at the water, but Lassiter was nowhere to be seen.

"Where'd he go?" she asked despairingly.

Shawn carefully slid closer to the edge of the water and squinted ahead, but he saw no telltale splashes of a drowning man being weighed down by a bear trap.

"He's gone!" he called back, climbing back up to where his friends stood panting.

"We've got to get to town and get help," Juliet said.

"We should take the shortcut Ryan told us about," Shawn said.

She worried her lower lip, but nodded. "Let's go. And hurry!"

They ran back the way they had come, then veered into the trees in the direction that Ryan had earlier indicated. Shawn cast his eyes about for some kind of trail, but spotted none. They were probably just a little off track, and that wouldn't matter very much as long as they made it to town in time.

Shawn wasn't too worried. If he and Gus could both survive being hit by a steamboat in the middle of the night, surely Carlton could survive in broad daylight. As long as his screams hadn't attracted the Sasquatch…

Yeah, they'd better hurry.

Juliet began to lag, cursing breathlessly about the impracticality of feminine attire. Her skirts were already ripped beyond repair from having to constantly tear herself free from grasping branches, and her blond hair had slipped free from her bonnet.

Shawn and Gus slowed so as not to leave her behind. The former squinted about the trees. Everything looked the same, and there was still no visible trail, except for the one they had forged themselves.

"I think Ryan was lying," he panted. "This isn't a shortcut at all. Can't see any smoke. Trees are getting thicker. No voices. No trail."

"Lyin' Ryan," Gus muttered.

"What's wrong?" Juliet asked, catching up.

"We need to go back," Shawn said. "This is a waste of time! Ryan lied."

"That son of a gun!" she exclaimed, stomping her foot. Juliet scrubbed her sweaty face with a hand, then looked up as determined as ever. "Come on. We'll just have to find him ourselves. There's still time."

They turned on their heels and ran back to the river. Gus figured that at that rate they would never make any headway!

….

The first thing he noticed upon awareness was how cold it was. Carlton Lassiter shivered and drew the rough blanket tighter around himself. His ankle throbbed horribly with each wracking shudder.

What had happened?

He was accused of a crime he hadn't committed—no, wait. That was resolved. Then he was on a steamboat with some kids, but they had to walk the rest of the way to town, only for him to step in a steel trap…His eyes flew open, and he looked around.

A cursory glance around the dimmed room did not reveal any of his self-assumed charges. He quickly assessed his situation. Aloneness in an unfamiliar place was never a good sign, especially when he couldn't remember exactly how he had gotten there.

Energy surged through his limbs, giving Carlton the strength he lacked a moment before to sit up slowly. His head and ankle protested, but he swallowed thickly and forced himself upright. He really was alone, and no one was alerted by the quiet rustling of his movements. Lassiter almost immediately spotted his weapons sitting in a patch of sunlight near the window; they were taken apart, and looked to have been meticulously cleaned. It would only take a few seconds to put them back in order.

He inhaled deeply, then slowly released the breath. All he had to do was cross the room, put his guns together, and find the children.

Easy enough.

Simple.

Watching the door out of the corner of his eye, Lassiter slid out of bed, pushing the heavy blankets that were overheating him aside. One foot down, one more to go. He froze when the floorboards squeaked. When nothing happened, he continued, rolling from heel to toe before placing his other foot down.

Fiery pain lanced up the entire length of his leg. In an instant, Lassiter crashed to the floor in a heap with a strangled yelp.

Blinking dazedly, the last he remembered seeing was the door flying open and a pair of muddy boots approaching.

…

"I see a house up ahead," Shawn panted.

Sure enough, when Gus and Juliet looked closely, they spotted a structure through the trees. If there was someone home, they could find help. There could even be a horse that would be able to transport them to town more quickly.

"Let's go," Juliet said. "I'll go first. You two don't say anything."

"But—"

"Just—please, Shawn," she sighed.

"Okay."

Shawn and Gus shared a look, except Shawn looked surprised at his friend's agreeing expression. He pouted, whereas Gus merely shrugged as though to say, "What are you gonna do?"

"It doesn't look like anyone's home," Gus whispered.

Shawn gave the cabin another once-over and realized that the windows were dark, and there was no smoke issuing from the chimney. "Great subversion, Gus."

"I think you mean observation."

"I've heard it both ways."

"No, you haven't."

"Shh!" Juliet hissed.

The boys clamped their lips shut obediently and tramped along after her.

Juliet headed at once for the door, perhaps hoping to find it unlocked, or an occupant going to bed. It was, after all, getting dark outside, and it was not uncommon for people to sleep with the sun. Shawn detoured towards one of the windows, cupping his hands over his eyes to peer inside. His face lit up.

"Lassie!" he cried, banging his fist on the glass so hard that it rattled.

Juliet and Gus jumped, startled by the noise. But they both recovered quickly and shouldered Shawn aside to take a look for themselves. Lying on a cot on the far side of the single-room cabin was a very familiar form: Carlton Lassiter. He was bundled up in numerous thick blankets, his feet propped up on a box at the foot of the bed. He stirred slightly upon hearing the chorus calling his name.

Shawn pushed the door, which was unlocked, open with a bang and skipped over to the officer. "Lassie! You're alive!"

"Hrrrrmmm…"

"Carlton! Are you all right?" Juliet put a hand on his head. "He's burning up."

"Where's the owner of the home?" Gus wondered, looking about.

Lassiter's bloodshot eyes opened independently of one another. His gaze moved blindly for a few seconds before locking first on Shawn, then on Juliet, then on Gus. "What're you doin'?" he slurred.

"How are you feeling?" Juliet asked. "How did you end up here? Where's the person who helped you? Did they go to get a doctor?"

"Been…abducted…"

"Huh?"

Gus stepped in. "He said he was abducted."

"Run…Get out of here…"

"Okay," Gus nodded, turning to leave in a hurry.

"Wait!" Shawn grabbed his arm. "We can't just leave Lassie here to die! The kidnapper will feed his arms and legs to the Sasquatch!"

"But if he catches us, he'll feed us to Sasquatch, too!"

"There's no Sasquatch!" Juliet interrupted before the argument could go any further. "Now, help me get him up. We'll drag him to town if we have to. He needs a doctor."

"Lassie, wake up," Shawn urged him. He hauled him bodily upright, then had to brace himself as the man slumped forward. "Whoa! C'mon, son!"

"Leave me…" Lassiter mumbled into Shawn's shoulder.

"Never!" Shawn grunted, legs trembling under the weight.

Juliet lowered Lassiter's feet to the floor, being mindful of the grotesquely swollen foot. Then she leveraged herself under one of his arms and helped Shawn lift him into a lopsided standing position. Lassiter managed to get his good foot underneath him, but there was no chance of his being able to walk on his own.

"Gus, the door," Juliet motioned with her chin.

He hurried to obey as Juliet and Shawn slowly began to shuffle their charge towards the exit.

"You're doing great, Carlton," Juliet said encouragingly. "We're almost there. We're going to get you help."

"Hrrrrmmmggh."

"That's right, Carlton. Just a bit farther."

Shawn wrinkled his nose. "Ugh, his armpit keeps going into my face. My hair is going to stink!"

"Your hair already stinks, Shawn," Gus told him.

"Your hair stinks," was the muttered reply.

"Boys, focus! Come on, Carlton. Just a few more steps and we'll be out the door."

…

"Are we almost to town?" Shawn panted. He let go of Lassiter's arm for a second to swipe at the sweat tickling his cheek. They kept shuffling forward at a snail pace.

"We're still in sight of the cabin," Gus said, pointing back the way they came. He was standing and watching his friends attempt to drag a semi-conscious, incoherent Lassiter along the thin trail.

"Maybe…Gus," Juliet sighed, "could you grab his legs? Maybe we can carry him like that."

Gus looked dubious, but moved to do as he was told.

"Shawn, you carry him from the middle. I've got his shoulders."

"We're carrying him like a dead person," Shawn commented. "Wait, does this mean we need a blanket?"

"Shawn."

"I got it, Jules."
Once they were all in position, they hefted the limp body into their arms, adjusting according to the differences in their heights and strengths. Lassiter seemed unaware of their efforts to save him.

"Okay, let's go."

Although the progress was still slow, it was a lot faster this new way than before. Juliet still found it difficult to walk, especially now that she was moving backwards, due to her skirts, which were all ripped up beyond repair. Gus gagged at the smell of blood and feet, turning his face as far as humanly possible.

"I don't think we'll make it before dark," Shawn said.

"It's already dark," Gus corrected. "The sun set behind the trees already."
"It's twilight."

"Dusk."

"I've heard it both ways."

"I hear that. But there's technically a difference. My dad said—"

"Now is not the time," Juliet said. "Let's just put all of our energy into getting to town. Talking will only slow us down."

They nearly dropped Carlton in fright when a voice barked out behind them: "HEY!"

The children looked back, and to their horror, saw a distant figure emerging from the cabin, toting a musket—which he promptly leveled at them.

"Into the woods!" Shawn cried, pulling his cargo's midsection in that direction.

"Who is he?" Juliet gasped. "Maybe we should talk to him, ask him for—"

BOOM!

A musket round splintered into the trunk of a nearby tree, forcing all of them to drop to the ground for cover. Carlton groaned, but otherwise did not stir.

"I don't think he's trying to help!" Gus whimpered. "What do we do?!"

Shawn crouched behind a thick bush and peered out. Not too far off, the man crashed into the forest in pursuit, but passed them.

"Okay," Shawn whispered. "You guys try and get Lassie to safety. I'll lead him in circles."

"Shawn, no," Juliet said. "It's too dangerous!"

"Trust me, Jules. I know what I'm doing. Ask Gus."

Gus gave him a terrified look.

"Never mind," the sheriff's son amended quickly. "Just trust me."

Before either of his friends could protest again, Shawn darted deeper into the shade, leaving them to rescue Lassiter. Juliet huffed in frustration, but did not call out to him for fear of drawing attention. Instead, she decided that it would be best to keep moving. No sense in sitting like ducks. Gus seemed hesitant to leave, but more hesitant to follow Shawn, especially when in doing so they might both wind up in trouble. And who would go looking for a slave when there was a white boy to be found? So he went with Juliet, praying for Shawn's safety all the while.

In the meantime, Shawn already had the shooter in his sights. The man, who was wearing a wide-brimmed hat that hid his face and a threadbare jacket, was kneeling in the mulch looking for footprints. Shawn didn't know what he thought he might find in such dim lighting—it was even darker under the cover of the trees, though that would work to his own advantage. The man held the gun at a position for optimum capacity. At one detected movement, the stranger could wheel around, aim, and fire—and bam, Shawn would be dead.

A direct altercation may not be the best course of action.

Shawn snuck to the right, away from his friends and the hunter. Once he got far enough off, he would make a noise to attract the danger.

Behind the man, Shawn picked up the longest stick within his reach and rustled a nearby bush. The stalker whipped around and aimed, but did not shoot.

"Who's there?" he demanded in a reedy voice.

Shawn was already running, zig zagging like his father had taught him. Another bullet ricocheted somewhere to the left of him, and pounding footsteps raced after him.

The child sprinted ahead, then ducked and nestled himself into the upraised roots of a large tree. He clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his panting, then held his breath as he heard his pursuer catch up. The man paused long enough that Shawn's lungs began to burn, but thankfully the stranger moved on without finding him.

Shawn released the air, giddy from lack of oxygen and with relief. He grinned, and ran back the way he had come. The man was going in the opposite direction, and probably would never find them.

In a few moments, he caught sight of Gus and Juliet dragging Lassiter along by the arms. All three of them were sweaty-faced, but the unconscious officer was pale, not flushed.

Gus looked up fearfully as Shawn came crashing out of the trees to help, but his face lit up. "Shawn!"

"Gus! Jules! See? I lost him!" Shawn said proudly. "I told you I could—"

BANG!

Shawn's eyes widened in surprise, as did his friends'. He felt his left shoulder spasm, though he did not know why. He tried to keep his balance as the ground tilted. Juliet and Gus screamed, finally stirring Lassiter, who struggled to open his eyes and respond. Shawn stumbled and nearly took a dive into the dark, churning river, but reared back just in time to fall backwards. As he struck the ground, he landed on his shoulder, and felt a dull burn.

Confused, Shawn looked down, and saw a spot of red paint. Where had it come from? Why did no one tell him his shirt was dirty? He turned to ask Gus these questions, only to see his friend scrambling towards him on his hands and knees, face panicked. His mouth was moving, but Shawn could only hear the water roaring in his ears.

Gus tugged him harshly, forcing him into a sitting position. Shawn's stomach rebelled at the movement, and he tried to pry Gus's vice-like grip from his arm. Over the slave's shoulder, he saw Juliet trying to get Lassiter to wake up. She looked terrified as well.

Both froze suddenly, staring towards the trees.

Shawn tried to turn and look, but blackness was encroaching on his vision, and all he could see was a straw hat fluttering to the ground. Then his neck wouldn't hold his head up anymore, and he decided that then was an excellent time for a nap.

…

"Shawn!" Gus cried, relieved to see him appear from the shadows.

"Gus! Jules!" Shawn grinned. "See? I lost him! I told you I could—"

BANG!

Gus flinched. "Hurry up and get over here, Shawn!"

Shawn didn't respond, but Juliet screamed. Gus' eyes widened as he saw why: Shawn's jerk wasn't a reaction to the sound, but to the musket ball that pierced his shoulder. Time slowed down as Gus and Juliet watched Shawn stumble to the side, right arm lifting and then falling. He tottered near the edge of the embankment. Gus suddenly realized that he might fall in and drown, and made a lunge despite the distance between them.

But Shawn pulled himself back and crashed to the ground with a grunt. Gus scrambled towards him, shouting his friend's name. Juliet alternated between calling Shawn's name and Lassiter's, attempting to wake the both of them up so they could run or hide, though those were no longer options.

"Shawn!" Gus screamed, reaching him. "Get up! Get up!"

A bemused expression crossed Shawn's face as he looked down at the growing blood stain.

Gus grasped at him and hauled him up, hoping to snap him out of his stupor. "Come on! Get up! Get up!"

"Carlton! Wake up! Help us!" Juliet urged behind him.

The man only groaned, though he did make an effort to come back to the world of the living.

All of the screaming suddenly ceased.

Juliet and Gus gaped in terror as a man emerged from the trees, gun in hand. Gus desperately wanted to put himself between Shawn and the stranger, but his muscles wouldn't move. The newcomer reached up and removed his wide-brimmed hat to reveal his own face, which was slack with horror. His eyes shined eerily in the early night moon.

"Oh my god," he whispered. "You're kids. You're just kids."

Shawn slumped forward, and Gus automatically wrapped his arms around him. "Shawn?" he whispered, shaking him a little. "Shawn?"

"I didn't know," the man babbled. "I thought—I thought—I didn't know!"

"You killed him!" Juliet sobbed, fisting Carlton's shirt.

"No, I—" The stranger was spurred into action at the despairing accusation. He knelt beside the boys and gingerly checked Shawn over. "He's still breathing! He's alive. Everything will be fine. It seems to have missed anything vital…"

"Vital?" Gus exclaimed indignantly. "Shawn is vital! You shot him! You—"

"Enough," the man said. "We need to get him some help. Run and fetch the doctor to my cabin, boy."

"I don't know the doctor!"

The stranger waved him off impatiently and scooped Shawn into his arms. "Just follow the river until you get to town. Ask the first person for Dr. Strode—tell him Longmore sent you, and that it is urgent. Go!"

Gus, right sleeve soaked with his friend's blood, scurried to obey.

Juliet glared at Longmore, still making halfhearted attempts to wake the man who had taken it upon himself to escort them.

"I'll take the boy back to my cabin," Longmore explained hurriedly. "Then I'll come back for him!"

The girl seemed torn between following Shawn and staying with Lassiter, but ultimately she stayed. Longmore carried Shawn away.

Meanwhile, Gus tore along the small little path by the river. "Dr. Strode, Dr. Strode, Dr. Strode," he repeated to himself. "Dr. Strode, Dr. Strode, Dr. Strode!"

At last, he careened around a bend and found the first signs of civilization: a very small town, a few windows lit by candles and firelight. In the darkness he didn't see anyone out, but he ran forward, hollering for help.

It garnered the attention he wanted.

A few people appeared from their doorways, lifting lanterns to find where the commotion was.

"Ha! Who's there?" called one.

"Help! We need Dr. Strode! Dr. Strode! Please, help! He's been shot!"

"Dr. Strode's been shot?!" gasped a woman. "Oh, lord! What'll we do?"

"No!" Gus yelled. "A boy has been shot! And we need Dr. Strode to save him! We need to go to Longmore's cabin!"

"Oh, boy," sighed an old man. "Longmore's at it again, is he?"

"Where's the doctor?!" Gus cried impatiently. "Please, we need help now or he'll die!"

"Well, Missy," said a silhouette in a window. "I guess you'll need to go and fetch your father."

A young woman bustled out of the door, her own lantern raised high. "Where are you?" she asked.

Gus jogged forward, chest heaving. "Please hurry!"

"We live just down the road here," said Missy, starting off at a brisk pace. "Papa's probably sleeping."

The slave followed at her heels, clutching the stitch in his side. Townsfolk watched them go, whispering amongst themselves.

As they walked, Missy kept up a conversation. "We've got an old nag who can carry you back faster. How bad is—your master, is he?"

"No, he's my—uh, I mean, yes. Well, he's my master's son who got hurt, miss. But my master is dead, so I guess Shawn is my master now…" He hoped that she couldn't detect his lie—it was evident in his shaky voice and his guilty expression.

She didn't seem to notice. "Where was he shot?"

"By the river, miss."

"No, I mean the wound. Arm? Leg?"

"His shoulder," Gus responded. "There's a lot of blood, miss. I think it went all the way through."

"Do you know how to saddle a horse?"

"Yes, miss."

"Then go into the stable and fetch the nag. Her name is Grace."

"Yes, miss."

"I'll wake Papa and have him get ready. Meet us outside the door."

They went their separate ways.

…

Juliet dipped the rag back into the water bucket and wrung it out. Her lips thinned with worry as she pressed the cloth against Shawn's feverish forehead. Again her eyes darted towards the door. Where was Gus with the doctor?

"Gus…" Shawn whimpered, face pinched with discomfort. "Gus, we gotta—gotta get outta here…"

"Shh," Juliet said, stroking him comfortingly. "It'll be all right. Gus will be back soon, Shawn."

A shiver wracked the boy's frame, and he stirred fretfully in the bundle of blankets. His hazel eyes slivered open, roaming sightlessly around the room.

Juliet carefully peeled back the coverings, grimacing at the sight of crimson blossoming against the makeshift bandage. She tucked the blankets back, adjusted the wet cloth, and went to Carlton, who was reclining on a pallet with his bad foot propped up. She hoped they wouldn't have to amputate, but if the doctor didn't come soon who knew what would need to be done. The teen knelt down beside him and rewet his rag.

The door swung open.

Juliet turned hopefully, but deflated once she saw it was Longmore. He stumbled into the room and noisily deposited an armful of chopped wood by the fireplace.

She absolutely despised him, though she could understand why he had shot: When he found his charge missing and spotted strangers carrying him away, he had automatically assumed the worst. They were too far away for him to see or hear that they were merely children. Spotting Shawn through the trees, he must have taken him for a man kneeling or squatting, and aimed accordingly. But she still hated him for shooting.

They didn't speak much except to make sure the boys were cared for as properly as non-doctors could.

Since Carlton was still unresponsive, Juliet returned to Shawn's side. To her surprise, he glanced at her.

"Shawn!" she whispered. "Can you hear me?"

"Where's my mom?" he slurred.

"Oh, um…Well, she's not here," she said slowly.

"We gotta go to…Free States," he mumbled. "Gus should be free…"

"Okay."

"Mom'll…help…Gotta get 'way from Dad…Bad Dad…"

Juliet frowned. "When you're better we'll get you to your aunt, Shawn."

"Aun…t?" Some lucidity returned to Shawn as he frowned up at the ceiling. "No…going to Mom…in Chicago…"

"But…You said your parents are dead."

"No…Shh…Keep a secret, Gus…Secret…!"

"What's the secret?" Juliet pressed. "Shawn. What is the secret?"

"Can't tell…no one…running away…"

"Running away? From your father?"

"To save him…" Shawn widened his eyes and looked directly at Juliet again. "Dad's gonna kill Gus! Gotta save him…Kill a chicken…to save him…Gotta…gotta…" His eyes fluttered closed as he lost consciousness.

Juliet swallowed thickly.

On the one hand, she was furious. Shawn had lied to her—repeatedly. Even after she showed how trustworthy she was! After all she'd done to help him! She'd left Declan behind to help him get to the aunt that never existed. He'd made her into an accomplice, stealing a slave that was the rightful property of his father, who was still alive.

But on the other hand, Shawn was only doing what he thought was right. Ultimately, what he was doing was to protect his slave—his friend. Apparently he thought his mother, who was also alive and living in Chicago, would help them. She thought maybe his mom was an abolitionist, or at least anti-slavery.

In the end, she couldn't stay mad at him. Glancing askance at Longmore, who didn't seem to have heard anything, Juliet decided to keep mum about the issue. From there, she could make a plan about what she was going to do.

"Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeedi-hoooo!"

Juliet started at the noise. Longmore heaved a sigh and moved to open the door—but it crashed back before he reach it.

"Is he okay?!" Gus cried, rushing inside. He immediately spotted Shawn and went to him, staring at his pale face. "Is he breathing?! Shawn! Shawn!"

"Gus!" Juliet said sternly. "I think he'll be okay. Did you bring the doctor?"

As she asked, another figure made an appearance. An older, portly man shouldered his way inside, shown in by Longmore. "Okay," he said perfunctorily, hoisting his big medicine bag. "Where are the corpses?"

"They're not dead!" Juliet exclaimed.

"Oh, right. I meant the injured." The man hastily stuffed a tool into his pocket.

Juliet motioned to Shawn. "Please, Dr. Strode. Look at Shawn first. He's been shot in the chest."

"Please," the doctor said. "Call me Woody. All right. Let's take a look here."

Gus backed out of the way, but stayed close enough to watch. Juliet stepped in as acting nurse, and helped him remove layers of cloth.

Woody let out a low whistle as the bandage was peeled back. "Is the bullet still in there?"

"No, it went through," Juliet responded.

"Hmm, hmm, hmm. And this was a musket ball?"

Longmore nodded shortly.

"What a miraculous hit!" Woody said. "I don't believe it hit anything important, and it went all the way through. Wow! Muskets are terribly inaccurate, especially at a distance. Garth, how in the world did you not kill him? Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Do you have the bullet, still? I'm collecting for—"

Juliet scowled. "Woody, aren't you going to treat him?"

"Well, yes," he said. Woody opened his bag and reached inside, then pulled out a bottle of whiskey. "This may sting a little, kid."
Gus shuffled nervously. "I don't think he can hear—"

Woody popped the stopper and tipped the bottle in one fluid motion. A hearty helping of brown liquid gushed forth and hit the wound. Shawn jolted, face twisting with anguish. Juliet quickly took hold of his arms as he tried to buck and fend off the onslaught of alcohol. His high-pitched whine escalated into a full, blood-curdling scream.

Lassiter was startled out of his stupor, instinctively reaching for his weapons. "Wha—!"

"It's okay, Shawn!" Juliet raised her voice. "Stop fighting! We're helping you, that's all! Shawn—Gus, get his legs!"

"It burns!" Shawn howled. "Dad! Dad! It burns! Mom!"

"Ride it out, kid," Woody said calmly, patting Shawn's hair. He discreetly wiped the sweat residue onto his pants.

Lassiter, now sitting up, grasped at his ankle, wincing. He grimaced with sympathy as he came to realize that the doctor had flushed Shawn's wound with alcohol. Then he frowned as he couldn't remember how the child had been wounded in the first place.

"What the hell happened?" he demanded.

"He got shot," Gus said. "While we were trying to rescue you."

"What?"

"We found you here and you said you were kidnapped so we picked you up and carried you away to rescue you," Gus rambled, taking to stroking Shawn's legs through the blanket as his pain spasms finally ended. "But then a man with a musket chased us, and Shawn led him on a wild goose chase in the woods while Jules and I dragged you towards town, and Shawn thought he lost Longmore, only Longmore caught up, and he shot him in the shoulder! And you wouldn't wake up, Lassie!"

"Who the hell is Longmore?!"

By the fireplace, Longmore indicated his presence with an apologetic expression. "It was dark," he offered.

Lassiter stared at him incredulously. "What, was it an eclipse?! How do you shoot a kid?"

Meanwhile, Woody had retrieved a needle and a spool of catgut from his medical bag, and with Juliet's help had set to work. Shawn, exhausted and incoherent, did not resist as Woody began to sew up the front hole, humming a ditty. In fact, he hardly seemed aware of anything at all. Gus buried his face into the blankets, stomach turning at the sight of flesh being pierced and tugged closed.

Lassiter averted his gaze from both Shawn and Longmore, instead deciding to fume at the state of his foot. None of them would be in this mess if he had paid more attention to his surroundings.

Once Woody had finished suturing Shawn's front and back, he left Juliet and Gus to resettle him into a comfortable position on the cot. Wiping his bloodied fingers on his handkerchief, which he promptly tucked back into his pocket, he turned to Lassiter. "Now then," he said cheerily, pulling a bone saw from his bag. "Are we ready to amputate?"

Lassiter folded his arms and glared up at him. "I'd rather throw myself off a cliff," he said blandly. "We are not amputating. Fix it or put me out of my misery like a horse with a broken leg."

"Okay!" Woody squatted down next to his patient's ankle and unwrapped the appendage. He set the saw aside. "Have some whiskey."

Carlton took the proffered bottle and drank deeply. He made a visible effort to contain his winces and hisses of pain as the doctor poked and prodded at his wounds. Woody took a swig of the whiskey for himself and then upturned the bottle over Lassiter's foot. The man groaned, but managed to refrain from moving away.

"Well," Woody said, bending over the appendage and examining it. "Good news, my friend. I don't think we'll have to amputate just yet. Let me know when you change your mind."

Lassiter exhaled slowly. "Thanks," he said through gritted teeth. His head still pounded with fever, and he massaged his temple with a finger. Mercifully, the liquor began to do its magic, and the pain dulled slightly.

He looked up and around. "Where the hell are my guns?"

…

"I'm bored," Shawn complained. He flicked one of his checkers pieces at Gus, who let it hit him in the chest. With a resigned sigh, he picked it up and set it back on the board. Truth be told, Gus was bored as well.

Juliet ignored him and continued stirring the porridge she was making. Longmore and Lassiter had gone outside. Once they had started talking about shooting practice, the men had bonded, and now spent a lot of time together with their weapons. Through the back window, she could see them melting lead to make bullets.

Over the past few days, Juliet had been doing a lot of thinking. She and Gus had been mostly taking care of the boys—washing their wounds and bandages, spoon feeding Shawn when he was still too weak to help himself, helping Lassiter hobble outside so he could relieve himself, and so on—while Longmore fetched supplies from town and checked his traps for their next meal. It didn't take long for Lassiter's fever to break, putting him on the fast track for recovery. Shawn followed shortly afterward, and showed little signs of trauma, considering he was sleeping in the bed of the man who had shot him.

When it became apparent that Shawn would be all right, Juliet made her decision. Now, she was waiting for the opportunity to tell everyone. She felt that the time was drawing nearer.

"I'm fine," Shawn said. "I'm ready to leave. Right now!"

"Maybe we should ask Lassie first," Gus said wisely. "After all, you were shot."

"But I lived," Shawn insisted. "I can walk by myself and everything. I think that means I'm ready to go to the Free States." He gave Gus a meaningful look. "I'm tired of staying here."

Juliet pulled the pot from the flames. "Well," she butted into the conversation, "be that as it may, we should still ask Carlton. Maybe he's not ready to go."

"We could leave him here," Shawn replied, gesturing towards the window. "I'm sure he'd love to stay with his new best friend."
"You know that's right," Gus muttered.

"How are you going to get to the Free States without Carlton?"

"Gus and I have sneaked onboard before. We can do it again."

"No, we haven't."
"Yeah-huh!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Anyway," Shawn said firmly, "we don't need Lassie. You're going to be there, Jules."

Juliet thinned her lips and scooped some porridge into several bowls. "Hungry?" she asked.

"Of course," Shawn scoffed. "Gus and me are always starving."

"Of course you are," she said. "You are boys, after all. And you've got to keep your strength up if you're going to make it."

She carried two bowls over to them, which they immediately began to devour like voracious little pigs. Juliet stuck her head out the back window and called the men in for lunch. Carlton got a head start on his hobbling inside while Longmore doused the flames and set the new bullets and spare lead aside.

When the men's conversation lulled, Juliet took the chance to jump in. "So Shawn and Gus think they're ready to go, Carlton."

The officer glanced in their direction. "They think five days is long enough for a gunshot wound to heal?"

Juliet shrugged noncommittally. "I mean, a ferry ride isn't so strenuous."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you," Carlton mused, an irritated twitch in his eyebrow. He was still sore about Shawn's getting them kicked off the last one.

"Well, I think he just wants to get home," Juliet said.

"Hmm."

She dropped the subject at that, knowing that the man was probably considering it. Juliet trusted his judgment He had gotten them this far already, and she was sure he would stay with them until they got to where they were going. Even though they did ruin his "vacation."

"Hey, Lassie!" Shawn called from across the room. "Wanna play chess? One of the horseys is missing so you have to use a checker piece."

Longmore frowned. "What happened to the knight?"

"I think Gus ate it."

"No, I didn't! You threw it earlier and now we can't find it!"

"You didn't have to dodge, Gus!"

"I have cat-like reflexes, Shawn."

"I can't do this with you right now."

The adults and Juliet rolled their eyes. Carlton pushed away from the table and limped over to the bed, shooing Gus out of the way so he could sit across from the boy. "Your king and queen are backwards…And so are your bishops and rooks. Do you even know how to play chess?"

"My dad taught me, but I wasn't really paying attention," Shawn said as he swapped the indicated pieces.

Lassiter shook his head and made his first move: seventh pawn two steps.

In retaliation, Shawn moved his bishop forward.

"You can't do that," Lassiter said, putting the piece back. He pointed at it and its surroundings. "This one only goes diagonally, and the pawns are blocking it."

"But he has the power of God," Shawn said wisely, moving the bishop back where he'd put it.

Carlton exhaled out of his nose. "Fine. Then my knight takes your bishop."

"Then my horsey takes your lady."

"That—!" Lassiter scowled. "My rook takes your king. Check and mate. Game over."

"How did I not see that!" Shawn gasped dramatically. "Gus, you're supposed to remind me about that stuff."

"I don't think I understand the rules of the game," Gus said, looking at the board confusedly.

Lassiter rolled his eyes. "We didn't play with any rules."

"Just like life."

"There are rules in life," Lassiter said.

"But not everybody plays by the same rules," Shawn said challengingly.

Lassiter scrutinized him for a moment. "No," he said slowly. "That's right."

"My dad says that life has rules," Shawn continued. "But he also says that life isn't fair. If it's not fair, then why have rules at all? Rules should apply to everyone."

Carlton made a conscious effort not to look towards Gus. Acknowledging the cruelty of society at that point was a little much. Instead, he focused on a discrepancy in the kid's speech and felt the oncoming of a revelation.

"So," he said, switching topics. "I hear you think you're ready to go on to the Free States."

"We are," Shawn nodded.

"Fine then. How's tomorrow sound?"

The kids shared a glance. "That sounds perfectly in order," Shawn responded, extending his hand.

Lassiter shook it firmly.

…

For such a small town, the dock was surprisingly busy. People milled about, crew members carried luggage and supplies off and onto the steamboat, and it was generally raucous. Shawn especially was distracted by all the commotion, eyes flicking about as he took it in. He let out a steady stream of observations, mostly aimed towards Gus, who had stopped paying attention several minutes before.

Juliet took a deep breath and let it out slowly, catching Shawn's gaze. "I'm not going with you," she repeated.

Shawn looked vaguely horrified at the revelation. "But," he protested.

She cut him off, addressing Shawn, Gus, and Carlton at once. "I miss my own family. I miss my house and my bed. I miss Declan."

"You can go home after we get to Chicago!" Shawn cried.

Juliet shook her head. "I'm homesick. I want to go home now."
"My home can be your home," Shawn argued.

"No, Shawn…"

"Fair enough," Carlton nodded, stopping Shawn from further fighting her decision. "I can see them the rest of the way. How are you getting home?"
"Woody and Missy are headed that way to go visit some kin. I won't be alone or with strangers." Juliet gave them a watery smile.

Shawn ducked his head and toed the dirt, the hand not hanging from a sling picking at a loose thread of his shirt. Gus was silent as well.

"Don't be sad, boys," Juliet continued. "You can always write to me when you get to where you're going. I'll write back. And someday we might see each other again!"

Shawn shrugged his shoulders.

"Promise me you'll write?"

"It's time to go," Carlton commented, nudging Shawn slightly.

"Shawn? Will you write me?"

He turned away and began to trudge towards the boat, Gus following at his heels.

"Shawn?"

The boy looked over his shoulder. "I promise," he said softly, voice nearly drowned in the noise.

Then the trio made their way onto the ferry. They stood at the railing with several other passengers, and waved farewell to Juliet, who watched them until they were gone on the horizon.

"You okay, Shawn?" Gus asked tentatively.

Shawn shrugged, staring glumly at the shoreline as it rolled idly by. Lassiter had gone in search of their bunk to put their luggage away. He'd told them in no uncertain terms that if they didn't behave, he would put a bullet in each of their brains—though both boys were under no delusions that the man was serious.

When his friend remained silent for some minutes, Gus wracked his mind for something to draw his attention. "Hey," he said, face lighting up. "Do you wanna go meet the captain of the ship? Maybe he'll even let you drive."

"…Nah…"
"We could…explore the ship!"

Shawn shook his head.

"We could go talk to people?"

"What's there to talk about?"

"There's lots to talk about," Gus said. "Um, the weather, the news, history, mythology, dreams, uh, politics, the weather…"

"Face it, Gus. Things just aren't the same anymore. Jules is gone."

The little slave averted his gaze.

Shawn squinted into the sunlight. "She was the only woman I've ever loved, Gus."

"You know you're twelve, right?"

"Almost thirteen."

"Well, you know what your mom says. 'It's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all'."

"Hmm."

"…On the bright side, we're almost to the Free States!" Gus said. "We did it, Shawn. We made it. Now your dad can't do anything to me!"

The corners of Shawn's lips twitched upwards. "Yeah," he said. Then he straightened. "Yes, exactly! That's what this has all been about, Gus. Saving your life!"

Gus nodded. "And we'll get to see your mom again!"
"Yeah!"

Shawn and Gus bumped their fists together, grinning.

"Let's go meet the captain," Shawn said.

"Yeah!" Gus agreed. "Wait—no—Shawn! Don't get us kicked off again!" He ran after his friend, dodging other passengers strolling along the deck.

…

The moment the gangway touched ground, Shawn and Gus were stampeding down the board, leaving all the luggage to Lassiter.

"We made it!" Shawn whooped, leaping into the air. "We're here! We're here!"

"Hello, Chicago!" Gus said, crouching down to stroke free land. He didn't even mind how filthy and smelly it was—he was free!

"Gus! We're here! Weeeeeeee made it!"

The boys embraced tightly, still grinning from ear to ear. Neither noticed the dirty looks they received from the white passersby, nor the nervous ones from the black workers.

"All right, all right," Carlton said gruffly, catching up with them. "Stop making a scene, you two."

"Lassie," Shawn said solemnly, stepping back from his friend, "you're a good man. You saved our lives."

"Uh-huh." The man seemed inherently unimpressed by Shawn's gratitude. "Well, do we need to call a car?"

"For what?"

"To get to your aunt's house," Lassiter raised an eyebrow. "Or does she live close enough to walk?"
Shawn and Gus exchanged a look. The sheriff's son patted his pockets absently, as though searching for an address. "Um."

"You don't know where your aunt lives?" Carlton gaped incredulously.

Shawn shrugged. "It's not like my parents had time for their last words to be an address!" he exclaimed. "Besides, I thought she might be waiting here for me…"
Gus frowned as Shawn scanned their surroundings, looking disappointed.

"Maybe she didn't hear about the deaths," Gus said meaningfully.

"Yeah…"

Carlton set the bags down and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine. Do you at least know her name, kid?"

"Maddie Spencer…I think…"
"You think?!"

"I am twelve."

"Almost thirteen," Gus helpfully supplied.

"So it's possible that your aunt doesn't even live in Chicago," Lassiter said. "And that her name isn't Maddie Spencer."

Shawn looked down at his shoes. "We could ask for directions."
"If she does live here, then it could be anywhere. It'd be a miracle that anyone knows each other in this godforsaken city."

"It can't be that big," Shawn said. "In Santa Barbara, everybody knows everyone else."

Lassiter huffed a sigh. "That's just it, kid. Chicago is that big."

"Oh."

The group idled for a few minutes as Lassiter attempted to concoct a feasible plan. "We'll try the post office," he said at last. "We'll start there. Let's go."

"Where's the post office?"

"Don't know yet," Carlton answered gruffly. He strode forward, his limp barely perceptible. Shawn and Gus trailed after him, staring wide-eyed at their surroundings. As they stepped away from the port and into the city, the boys realized how extensive Chicago really was—the buildings were huge and black with soot, and people of all walks of life were bustling to and fro and milling about in the streets. The cacophony of sound and smell and sight was nearly overwhelming.

Lassiter flagged down a beat officer standing on the corner. "Excuse me, officer. Will you direct me to the nearest post?"

The officer tipped his hat and pointed his baton down the street. "Round that block there, see, then hook a left at the next corner. Can't miss it."

"Thank you."

They followed the directions, Lassiter pulling Gus out of the street as he stepped off the sidewalk at one point, nearly getting flattened by a passing carriage. Sure enough, they found the post office where the policeman had indicated.

"Let me do the talking," Lassiter said, pointing a stern finger at Shawn.

"Okay, Lassie," he said solemnly. "I'll be as quiet as a mouse—it's Gus you have to worry about. Oh! But don't say his name is Gus. Call him Lemongrass Gogoloab. No, wait—Hummingbird Saltalamacchia."

Lassiter rolled his eyes and opened the door. A little bell hung above the door dinged, merrily announcing their entrance. A young blond woman at the counter glanced up, smiling.

"Good afternoon!" she greeted. "My name is Marlowe. May I help you?"

"Miss Marlowe," Carlton said cordially. "I was hoping you could help me find someone." As he stepped up to the counter, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his badge, laying it on the countertop between them.

She stared at it for a moment.

Then she whipped around and raced out the back door, leaving the trio to stare after her in surprise. Lassiter snapped out his confusion almost immediately and took chase, heaving himself over the divider.

"Stay here!" he snapped at the children. "FREEZE, SCUMBAG!"

Gus made a face. "Is he allowed to call ladies scumbag?"

"We don't know that he called her that. Maybe there's a man back there," Shawn said. "Also, be my lookout. I'm going to find my mom's name."

"Shawn, you can't go back there!" Gus hissed.

"Shh!"

Gus pinched his lips together and looked surreptitiously at the door, praying that no one had any errands to run in this direction. Shawn had followed Lassiter's path over the counter and dropped down on the other side. He immediately set to work heaving a large address book labeled M – U out from its place on a shelf.

"S…S…S…" Shawn muttered to himself as he rifled through its contents. "Spencer…Spencer…Spencer…"

"Shawn, hurry!" Gus urged.

A finger traced down a page, then flipped on to the next.

"Aha!" he said. "Madeleine Spencer. She does live here!"

"Get back over here!" Gus hissed. "Someone's coming!"

Shawn shoved the book back, then crawled under the small passageway between the counter and the wall that allowed employees to pass into the main room. He had just stood and brushed his knees off when the door slammed open.

"Let me go!" the woman snapped, kicking out with her legs and causing her skirts to fly.

Lassiter merely wrapped an arm around her waist and carried her across the threshold. She writhed in his hold, her arms trapped at her sides. Then he slammed her head backwards.

"Augh!" Carlton cried, recoiling more in surprise than pain as he heard the cartilage in his nose crunch. But he didn't drop his perp.

"You dirty, filthy, son of a—!" Marlowe screamed. "You'll never catch my brother alive!"

"What are you talking about?" the officer demanded.

"Yeah," Shawn piped up. "We're just looking for my aunt's address. I'm an orphan, ma'am."

She ceased fighting almost immediately, and didn't even notice that Carlton's nose was dripping blood on her sleeve. "What? You mean he's with you?"

Shawn and Gus nodded.

"Oh my goodness," she said. "I am so very sorry."

Lassiter, deciding she was not a flight risk, released her and put a hand to his nostrils to stem the bleeding. Marlowe finally noticed the injury and dug her handkerchief from her bosom, shyly giving it to him. He accepted, still slightly glaring at her.

Marlowe continued, "I'm sorry. I thought you were a dirty cop or a bounty hunter. You wouldn't be the first one to come here trying to take me hostage to get at my brother…"

"Your brother's a wanted man?"

"Yes. But he was framed," she said fervently. "My brother wouldn't hurt a fly."

Lassiter nodded slowly. "Fine."

"So you're here for an address?" she turned to Shawn, looking between him and Lassiter. "Do you know her name?"

"Maddie Spencer," Shawn supplied.

Gus gave him a curious look. They'd already gotten the address, so there was no need to wait for an adult to find it for them. But then he realized that if the grown-ups knew that Shawn had found it himself, they might be in trouble. So he wisely kept quiet.

"Well, I can see if we have her in our records," Marlowe said. She pinched Shawn's cheek as she passed, and even patted Gus's head. "Let's see." Her voice floated back to them as she perused her collection. Then she found the same tome that Shawn had used and brought it to the counter. It didn't take much time for her find the name at all.

"See, I have a Madeleine Spencer. Is that name familiar?"

Shawn nodded vigorously. "That's her! I told you, Lassie!"

"Lassie?" she cocked an eyebrow, lips twitching as she looked up at Carlton.

The tips of his ears reddened. "It's actually Lassiter. Carlton Lassiter."

"Mm-hmm. Well, I'll write this address down for you."

Marlowe took out a scratch piece of paper and scribbled the location down for them. She handed it to Lassiter, winking. "The first one is for him," she gestured to Shawn. "I've written down the directions, too. The other address is for you, if you like…I'd love to hear from you."

Shawn and Gus exchanged a gross glanced as Lassiter and Marlowe all but undressed each other with their eyes.

Unable to take it any longer, Shawn tugged Lassiter's jacket sleeve. "Let's goooo," he whined.

Lassiter rolled his eyes, breaking the spell.

Marlowe waved with a little smile as they left the post office.

"Lassie," Gus said solemnly, "you look terrible."

"Yeah," Shawn agreed. "You got beat up by a girl. Your nose is broken, and both of your eyes are turning black."

"I'll have you know," Lassiter said, "that she is an incredibly strong-willed woman."

"Are you going to marry her?" Gus asked.
Lassiter sighed and took a look at the address in his hand, ignoring any further comments and kissing noises from the boys. "This way," he said.

Shawn and Gus skipped after him, quitting with the antics as their excitement built up. They had made it! And they were almost to Maddie's house, which meant not only were they free from Henry, but that they could move in—she would never turn them away.

The address was only a few blocks away from the post office. Shawn thought that was a good thing, because then he could go there and write to Jules whenever he wanted, and they'd be able to send money back to buy Gus's family their freedom so that they could come to Chicago, too!

Everything was working out. Shawn's life was going to be perfect—and so was Gus'.

Grinning ecstatically, Shawn hopped up the steps to the door Lassiter indicated belonged to his "aunt." He raised a fist and pounded on it, paused, then resumed pounding until he heard approaching steps on the other side. He stepped back, bouncing on the balls of his feet, and waited for the door to open.

"Mom!" Shawn cried, throwing himself forward—

Into his dad's arms.

The sheriff's son tore himself away, face paling, even as Gus began to make odd little gasping noises behind him. Henry gaped at Shawn, eyes wide and red-rimmed, looking as though he'd seen a ghost. Lassiter stared in confusion at the scene.

Henry's shocked expression gave way to pure, grief-stricken relief, his chin wobbling. "Shawn…" he whispered.

"Um…Hi, Dad."

The man's expression changed again, this time into red fury. "Shaawwwwnnn! You—I—Everyone thought you were dead, Shawn! How could you do this to us?!"

Shawn immediately turned to Gus. "I told you it would work! I'm a genius!"

"No!" Henry barked. "No, you're not! I can't believe you!"

"Henry?" said a voice behind him. "Henry, what on earth is…?"

A woman appeared in the doorway, dabbing at her red and swollen eyes with a hanky. Her motions stopped the instant she locked eyes on Shawn.

"Mom!" Shawn grinned, spreading his arms.

"Oh!" Maddie gasped, shouldering her ex-husband aside and drawing her son into her tight embrace. "Oh, Goose! My Goose! You're alive! Are you okay? Where have you been? Oh, I thought—!"

"I'm okay, Mom, really."

Henry rubbed a hand down his face, calming himself.

Lassiter finally involved himself. "So…he's not an orphan."

Maddie glanced up, then held Shawn at an arm's length. "You told people you were orphaned?"

"Well, yes…We had to keep our identities secret, Mom!"

"But why?" she despaired.

Henry and Lassiter folded their arms, glaring at Shawn. Gus attempted to make himself invisible.

Shawn pointed an accusatory finger at Henry, his bottom lip quivering. "We had to run away because Dad is evil! He's awful! Horrible!"

"What?" Henry growled.

"Shawn, what on earth do you mean?" Maddie asked, forcibly lowering his arm before his father bit the finger off.

The child angrily wiped away a few involuntary tears coursing down his cheeks. "Dad was gonna sell Gus away to die in a factory! I had to save him, Mom! I don't want Gus to die!"
Raising her eyebrows, Madeleine turned and looked at Henry, who looked just as confused.

"What factory?" he inquired.

"Don't pretend you don't know!" Shawn yelled. "You were gonna sell him to Trout!"

"Trout?" Henry suddenly laughed. "Kid, Trout doesn't know the first thing about marketing. Why would I sell him anything?"

"You said…!"

"What did I say, Shawn? Think about it."

"You said you'd consider it."
"Which means?"

"Which means maybe, Dad!"
"And when has maybe ever meant yes, Shawn?"

Shawn opened his mouth to retort, but nothing issued forth. He really thought about it—every time his father had ever told anyone 'maybe,' as far Shawn knew the answer had later been a resounding 'no.'

"You were never gonna sell Gus," he said.

"Of course I wasn't," Henry scoffed, shaking his head. "Well, what's done is done."

"What do you mean?"

"The Guster family is free," Henry shrugged. "I signed the freedom papers to compensate for their loss—you know, back when I thought you and Gus were dead. They should be coming north. I left them enough fare to get here."

"We're free?" Gus asked hopefully. "All of us? Me and Joy and Mom and Dad?"

"Yep," Henry nodded.

Shawn and Gus beamed at each other.

"Never mind, Mom!" Shawn said brightly. "Dad is awesome! Gus, let's go back to the post office and write a letter to Jules to celebrate!"

"Okay!"

They ran off together, not heeding of Henry and Maddie's calling after them. The boys careened around the corner, whooping and cheering.

Lassiter was left standing awkwardly with Henry and Maddie, who demanded and asked, respectively, just who he was.

"I'm a sucker," he said.

….

Dear Shawn and Gus,

I am very glad to hear that everything has worked out well. I'm home! My family and I are also doing great. Declan is in Italy at boarding school now, but I'm hoping I can convince his parents to let him come back. Would you be kind enough to pass on my address to Carlton? I'd like to hear from him. Do you think he will divorce his wife to date the post office lady? Oh, don't answer that. Gossip is for spinsters and politicians, anyway. I just hope Carlton finds happiness. I think he deserves it after everything he's been through…

My mother and I are leaving for the grocery, so I'll send this while we're in town. I look forward to hearing back!

Sincerely,

Juliet O'Hara

P.S. Thank you for the offer, Shawn, but I think we should wait a few years before you propose marriage to anyone…

A/N: Finally finished! This summer has been so busy so far...