Falls Chance part 8

The dogs were less than happy at being prevented from following
Flynn. Paul took their food out to the barn, fed them there and shut
them in while Dale took the tack from Gucci, cleaned it and then her
since she was hot and dusty from the long ride.



"They won't like being shut in," Paul said wryly to Dale as he shut
the barn door on the dogs and latched it, "But they're safe in there
and they won't be able to wander up and see where Flynn's gone. I'm
going to lock up everything else, we're done for the day. Come in and
shower as soon as you're finished, love."



Riley was waiting in the kitchen doorway as soon as Dale came inside,
and followed him into the bathroom, leaning against the wall while
Dale stripped off and ducked under the shower.



"Did you see it? How close was it? Whereabouts?"



"It was within sight of the horses, I don't know the stretch of
river." Dale said over the roar of the shower. He ducked his head
under the spray for a moment, sluicing dust from his hair. "I was
walking along the riverbank with the dogs and it was crossing the
river about twenty feet away."



"You got that close?" Riley demanded.



"I didn't see it until I was that close. It stopped and growled,
probably more at the dogs than me. They were both snarling. Jasper
grabbed Ash, I got hold of Tam and we stood still, and the cougar ran
up the bank and went into the woods. We looked over the horses. None
of them have been attacked."



"I wonder why it's after the horses and not the sheep?" Riley tossed
Dale a towel as he stepped out of the shower. "They're much easier
targets; that makes no sense at all."

"Possibly it's relying on the shelter of the brush by the river and
the horses are closer?" Dale towelled down, after several weeks here
immune to any concern at Riley watching, as Riley was not shy himself
and did not like doors getting in the way of good conversation. "I
don't know anything about them, do they rove or do they have
permanent dens?"



"I've got no idea, Jas would know. Bandit must be madder than fury."
Riley followed him out of the bathroom as he emerged, towel around
his hips, and headed upstairs for clean clothes. "What's Jas
planning to do? Couldn't he get a clear shot at it?"



"It happened too fast and we had the dogs to think about." Dale dug
in the drawer for clothes and dropped them on the bed, pulling a
clean shirt over his head. "By the time he had the rifle and was in
range it was disappearing into the woods. Jasper said he was planning
to sit with the horses and wait for it. If it was stalking the horses
it would probably come to them without needing them to track it."



"I ought to be up there too." Riley grabbed Dale's abandoned towel
and stuffed it in the clothes hamper, leading the way downstairs as
Dale finished fastening his jeans.



"Paul?"

"No." Paul's voice said from the kitchen. Dale came down the last few
stairs and followed Riley, running wet hair back from his face. Riley
was leaning against the counter while Paul washed his hands, calm
faced and unmoved.



"No, no way, not under any circumstances."

"If we ALL go up there-"

"Then we'll all get each others way and make sure that nothing
happens except that everyone's too tired to do anything useful
tomorrow. If Jas and Flynn want help they'll ask for it. I don't want
to hear any more." Paul added as Riley opened his mouth. "You're
grounded to the house today anyway."



"This is exceptional circumstances!" Riley protested. "How often do
we see a cougar?"



"If I can help it, I plan on never seeing one at all." Paul said
placidly. "Go and find something to do."

"Paul-"

Paul turned off the taps and shook off his hands, just as serene in
face and voice.



"Last chance."



Riley growled and went into the family room, digging his hands deep
into his pockets. Dale sat down on one of the couches near him,
linking his hands between his knees. It was the first time – apart
from the very short evenings after dinner – he had found himself with
free time since he first came here. In the kitchen, Paul could be
heard opening cupboards and drawers, assembling ingredients for the
evening meal. Riley scuffed at the rug he was standing on for a
minute, then caught Dale's eye and jerked his head at the stairs.



Curious, Dale followed him upstairs onto the main landing, where he
turned left as though he was headed towards his room at the end of
the hall. There was a door just off the hall near Riley's room which
Dale had always assumed was another closet. Riley opened it onto a
short hallway with a window, off which led one door standing half
open on a room Dale couldn't see much of other than a flash of dark
red rug. A short wooden staircase stood on the left and Riley led the
way up, opening a door on to a low ceilinged room with an admiral's
chair behind a leather-topped desk, several large, framed photographs
of horses hanging on the walls, filing cabinets and a computer.



"The room through there is Paul's office, he uses that for writing."
Riley informed Dale, taking a seat behind the desk and turning on the
computer. Dale looked out of the small window, taking stock of where
in the house they were.



"This house is a rabbit warren, there's rooms hidden everywhere. Am I
supposed to know this room exists?"



"No." Riley said bluntly, signing in on the computer.



"I didn't think so." Dale said dryly. "What are you looking for?"



"Whether cougars have dens."



Naturally.



"What the heck is this?" Riley demanded as a page came up. Dale came
to look over his shoulder and found himself grinning.



"I think that's a very different definition of a cougar den. I'd
leave that site alone."

Riley hissed, searching for the back button. "The trouble is I hardly
ever use the damn machine and I have no idea how to word searches –
Paul's the computer geek in so much as any of us actually use it and
he writes on a laptop. They don't believe in it except as a necessary
evil for business, it probably doesn't get switched on more than once
a week."

"Come here." Dale leaned over his shoulder, switching search engines
and rewording the search. A minute later Riley grabbed for a pen,
scribbling notes from what Dale was scrolling through.



"One male has a territory of up to 100 square miles – that's
ridiculous! Will shelter in brush, ledges… but if they're ranging
over that kind of distance they can't be that consistent about
returning to the same dens?"

"I'd imagine they stay around where the hunting is good." Dale said,
scrolling through another site. "Nocturnal, cover prey with leaves
and grass after feeding and return to eat later, may hunt as rarely
as once in two weeks. Solitary animals – ah, territories of males
overlap, no permanent dens but will move between temporary shelters
as it ranges through its territory. Can travel up to twenty five
miles a night on a hunt. Well if that's the case Flynn and Jasper may
not see it at all tonight and it may be well clear of the ranch by
tomorrow morning."

"It's still odd that it's out during the day." Riley pocketed the
scrawled notes. "I bet Jas would know more. He tracked the last one
that got dangerous."

"Where did he get the skills from?" Dale watched Riley shut the
computer down. "He said something about growing up on a small holding
with his grandfather, a few domestic animals?"



"His grandfather was Cherokee." Riley turned off the monitor and got
up, putting the chair back beneath the desk. "Or at least a
descendant of. Some of the tribe hid up in the Virginia mountains
when the rest were cleared out to reservations. He taught Jas to
track, they hunted all kinds of things when he was a kid. We've
always known there were cougars around below the falls, on the edge
of the woods, there always have been, but there was only the one that
ever was a problem and we've never had one come this far on to the
ranch."

"Possibly there's something wrong with it?" Dale said wryly. "From
what I understand, animals get aggressive and dangerous when the
territory is over crowded and the hunting bad. The hunting isn't bad
up there, which suggests this particular cougar is staying near easy
prey. Maybe it's disabled or ill."



"Well if they don't get it tonight it'll make a mess of work," Riley
said darkly, leading the way back down the stairs. "The last time,
Jas and Flynn wouldn't let anyone go anywhere near that area without
going in pairs, so it took twice as long to do everything. If there
were four of us up there tonight they'd have double the chance of
spotting it."

And twice the noise, and twice the human presence. Dale privately
thought Jasper knew what he was doing, but kept that opinion to
himself.











It was a long, quiet evening that was actually not in the
least dull. Filling time like this would have been a foreign concept
just a month ago. Paul called for help in preparing dinner, they ate
together, spent some time on the clearing up and then settled in the
family room where they played cards for the hour or so before Paul
sent Dale upstairs at eight. Paul himself came up at eight thirty ,
accepting the book Dale surrendered to him with a rather wry smile.



"You're so good. I'd have to pry this out of Riley's hands."



"What about other clients?" Dale asked lightly. Paul shook his head.


"Very individual. But most find the restrictions a lot harder to
accept than you seem to. Or rather they have a harder time
understanding them than I think you do."



That was a surprisingly acute observation. Paul stooped to kiss his
cheek, something that he did nightly and that Dale had learned to
accept gracefully since Paul didn't seem able to help it.



"Sleep well. If you have any trouble in the night, come and call me.
I'm not Flynn but I can manage tea and sympathy until Flynn gets
back."



"Do you think they'll get it tonight?" Dale asked as Paul reached the
door. Paul propped it the half open that Flynn did each night.



"I hope so. It would save a lot of trouble if they did."













It seemed only five minutes later that Riley's voice was in his ear,
low and urgent.



"Dale? Dale. They're not back."

Dale turned over and Riley let go of his shoulder. It was still dark
outside, but grey rather than black in a way that meant dawn was
coming. The house was very still and there were not even the usual
distant sheep sounds outside. Dale felt for his watch and found that
the time stood at four am . Riley was dressed with a sweater pulled
on over his shirt.



"They haven't come back yet."

"They may not have seen it yet." Dale pointed out.



"We'd better go take them some breakfast then." Riley said cheerfully
under his breath. "It'll be light by the time we get up there."



"And Paul's going to love you riding out when he said no last night?"
Dale said pointedly. And winced, realising what he was saying. "All
right, forget I said that."


"It's morning, we just went to take them some breakfast, there's no
harm in that is there?" Riley grabbed Dale's folded clothes from the
chair and dropped them in his lap. "Don't you want to have a look for
this thing yourself?"



"I've seen it," Dale muttered back, sliding out of bed to get
dressed. "It's a damn great lion with teeth and I was about 200 feet
too close at the time."



"Wuss." Riley retorted. "Be quiet, I'm going to go get horses."



He slipped out and left Dale alone to dress, not even sure why he was
following Riley's lead. Although if grown men chose to take the risk
of riding around near a cougar then they were taking their chances as
adults were entitled to do – there was surely a limit to how much
Paul really meant that 'no'.



Who are you trying to convince? You think they didn't mean it
yesterday when they grounded Riley for swimming instead of working?
Riley thought they meant it and he didn't argue either!



Yet Riley didn't seem to care about that right now.



Pulling on socks and a sweater over his shirt, Dale slipped out onto
the landing, glanced towards Paul's door and made his way down
stairs.



I have no idea why I'm even doing this.



Except as he stepped quietly out of the kitchen door to the veranda
and shut the door softly behind him, he realised he was having more
fun than would have seemed at all possible at four am in the morning.







*









Riley had tack on Snickers and Gucci, who were standing side by side
outside the corral. Dale picked up the rucksack by the kitchen door,
checking through it briefly as he went to join Riley. A loaf of
bread, bottles of water and a packet of cookies: not exactly a
substantial breakfast but enough to keep Flynn and Jasper going if
they had run out of food over night. Riley was attaching one rifle to
his saddle as Dale reached him, and was stuffing spare cartridges
into his pockets. He held out another rifle to Dale and a handful of
cartridges, both of which Dale accepted in shock.



"I wouldn't know what to do with this!"



"You've shot a gun before haven't you?"



"Not since an adventure holiday when I was about twelve!" Dale
retorted. Riley took the rifle from him, broke it open and loaded it,
pushing the cartridges into place.



"There and there, straighten it like this, that's how to cock it –
that's the safety catch, it's automatic. Leave that alone and if you
need to shoot it I'll tell you what to do. They're only basic, light
air rifles, Flynn took the heavier ones out with him. Attach it to
your saddle like that and you're not going to accidentally shoot
yourself or the horse."



Having attached the rifle for Dale, Riley swung up into Snickers'
saddle and gathered up his reins, waiting for Dale to mount. And they
set the horses at a brisk trot up the dark drive way towards the open
land.











It was getting light by the time they came through the
second gate and reached the part of the ranch that was referred to
as 'the tops': the mile upon mile of high, free range pasture west of
the river where Bandit and his brood mares grazed through the winter.
Riley signalled to Dale when they were a mile or two further in with
no sight of the horses, and nodded him at the river.



"Better stop and let the horses drink. And wait a bit. We'll be less
likely to get our heads bitten off if it's properly daylight."



That seems a bit optimistic.



Dale followed him towards the river and swung down to the ground,
tying up the reins and letting Gucci go, the mare eager for water.
The river ran wide and shallow here, moving quickly over a bed of
pebbles and rocks, with larger boulders framing it on the banks.
Gucci stepped out ankle deep in the water to drink, head lowered.
Snickers came down towards the water further up the bank and Dale saw
Riley step out across the rocks, looking between the trees.



"I bet the cougar has taken sheep. He's probably got carcasses hidden
around here if we looked in the right places, the website said they
hid meat under grass and leaves."



"It's a lot of land to search." Dale pointed out.



"If we don't look, we'll never know." Riley retorted. Dale folded his
arms as the morning was still chilly, looking back downstream. The
movement caught his eye before he recognised the shape: a horse,
large, with mane and tail almost ghostly in the thin light. Bandit.
Apparently after a drink. He was some way down river, stepping out
into the water. There really was no denying that he was magnificent.
Dale stood for a moment, admiring him and it took longer to see what
it was that Bandit was watching.



The man was still wearing only a white shirt despite the cold of the
morning: it was open at the neck and its sleeves were rolled above
his elbows, and his dark hair was scattered as though he'd been out
through the night. There was nothing in his hands, he was standing on
the rocks on the far bank of the river and he had lifted a hand to
catch Dale's attention. Between them, moving swiftly across the rocks
standing proud of the water, came something very pale, low to the
ground and heading directly-



Dale grabbed for Gucci, snatched the rifle from the saddle and
slapped Gucci hard on the flank, startling the horse which leapt up
the bank and out of the path of the cougar. Further upstream Snickers
looked up and promptly reared in alarm, backing up the river bed.
There was no time to run or to do anything, the cougar was breaking
from a fluid trot into a straight run towards him. Dale yanked the
rifle up to his shoulder and fumbled for several awful seconds with
the safety catch before it moved and he found the trigger with his
finger.



The sheer noise of the shot echoed in the early morning, the rifle
rebounded hard into Dale's shoulder and the cougar leapt into the
air, twisting. A second later Bandit erupted up river, sliding on the
pebbles, making an unearthly scream that echoed more than the rifle
shot had. His hooves were huge, water was flying up around him and he
landed with his front feet almost directly on top of the cougar.
There was a moment of terrible noise and massive, plunging horse and
water spraying too much to see clearly, and then Bandit trampled on
the spot a few more times, slamming his almighty hooves downward.



"Dale!" Riley bellowed further up river. Bandit shook his head,
snorting. Riley came running down the river bed, drenched to the
waist and white faced, and further in the distance Dale heard horses
galloping on the grass. Flynn burst down the bank and into the river
still in the saddle, rifle in one hand and pulling back on the reins
as his horse slid and twisted in the water. Dale lowered the rifle,
aware his hands were shaking.



"Get out of the water!" Flynn thundered towards him, and turned his
horse towards Riley who was trying to pass him mid river. "Riley get
back, get out of the water!"



Dale scrambled up the bank as Jasper passed him, rifle in his hands,
heading for Bandit and the cougar.



"It's dead, Dale shot it!" Riley protested. Flynn abruptly folded the
reins over one hand and Dale heard Riley's yelp as Flynn thwacked
them soundly across his backside.



"Get out of the damn river!"



Riley fled up the bank and Jasper put a wary hand out towards the
still stamping and snorting stallion, stooping to look at what was
visible of gold fur under the water.



"It's dead. Dale hit it in the chest and Bandit more than did the
rest."



Bandit snorted and lunged forward again, dropping both forefeet down
onto the body like a blacksmith slamming a hammer down on an anvil.
Jasper leapt back out of his way and came up the bank, shaking water
out of his face. Flynn nudged his horse out of the water and
dismounted on the bank, hand outstretched to Dale. His face was
impassive but his eyes were livid and his voice had a snap to it that
would have silenced a parade ground.



"Give that to me. Now."



Dale handed it to him swiftly, butt first. Flynn discharged it and
pocketed the cartridges.



"Where did you get this?"



"I gave it to him," Riley said rather quietly, rubbing his backside
with one hand. "I thought if we were coming out here-"

"Since when do you give clients guns?!" Flynn's roar made his horse
jerk back in alarm. "We have no idea if he's been taught, he might
have killed himself or you as easily as the damn cougar!"



"I thought it was safer!" Riley pleaded. Flynn's snort was more than
slightly similar to Bandit's.



"Safe? You think there's anything safe about hanging around rocks and
cover with a cougar hunting here? What the hell are you two doing up
here!"



"We thought we'd bring you breakfast-" Riley began and flinched as
Flynn detonated.



"You thought you'd come and get in on the action without one damn
thought for your safety or anyone else's! I'm going to make the whole
concept of 'safe' a damn sight clearer to you, Riley! You two get
back to the house, now. Move!"



Riley moved instantly and Dale followed him through the trees in
search of their spooked horses. Dale paused briefly to look at the
far bank but the hunter or whoever the man was who was in the woods
on the far bank, was long out of sight. Obviously he didn't want to
attract Flynn or Jasper's attention, and at this moment Dale couldn't
blame him.



Once Dale and Riley were out of sight, Jasper dropped a hand on
Flynn's shoulder and went to Hammer, taking a coil of rope from the
saddle bag.



"We're going to have to wait. Bandit's not ready to stop pounding on
that thing yet, and we're going to need to drag it clear of the water
or it'll foul this whole stretch."



"I'm going to kill them." Flynn said grimly, putting the rifle down
and coming to sit beside Jasper on the rocks by the river. "Or rather
I'm going to kill Riley. I know damn well whose idea that was."

"I'm surprised he got Dale to follow him that easily." Jasper said
dryly. "The kind of responsibility he's held and the decisions he's
made, I'd have expected him to have more sense."

"Would you?" Flynn picked up a stone from the bank and savagely
skipped it into the water, upstream to avoid Bandit. "I wouldn't at
all."









*







Riley said nothing at all throughout the ride home. He
put Snickers into the corral and Dale did the same with Gucci,
following him across the yard to the house. Paul had the door open
before they reached the steps, roughly dressed and looking, for Paul,
more than slightly frazzled. The sight of him seemed to throw some
switch in Riley. He'd moved at a slow, silent walk from the corral:
suddenly he ran up the steps in two or three strides and Paul caught
him and hugged him hard as Riley bulleted into him, clutching around
his neck.



"All right," Paul said very calmly over his head, "It's all right.
Dale, are you ok? Did you two go where I think you went?"



"Dale shot the cougar." Riley said without letting go of Paul. "It
went for us up by the river and Dale shot it-"

"Did it get near you?" Paul demanded. "Does Flynn know?"



"He and Jas heard the shot." Riley unwillingly let Paul detach him
and hold him off to see his face. "The cougar's dead, they sent us
back here."



Paul looked from Riley to Dale for a moment, then opened the kitchen
door.



"Inside, come on."

He put the kettle on in the kitchen, which was already warm with the
smell of bread.



"I had no idea what else to do," Paul said when he saw Dale look
towards the oven. "I didn't dare leave the house to go and look for
you in case you or Flynn and Jasper came back to the house needing
help. I was already worried enough about them being hurt or having
trouble through the night and coming back freezing cold. Have you two
any idea what it was like to find empty beds this morning?"



Riley heeled off his boots and sat down at the table, and Dale
followed, more slowly taking the seat that Paul pulled out for him.
Paul's quiet voice was actually just as hard to take as Flynn's bark.
Paul leaned against the counter, facing the table and looking from
one to the other of them. Riley, clearly shaken and upset; Dale as
stiffly upright and controlled as if he was about to chair a board
meeting.

"You left this morning without a word." he said quietly.

"We went up to take them breakfast –" Riley began hopelessly. Paul
interrupted him gently but without compunction.

"Without a word Riley. Why was that?"

Riley looked at the table. Paul waited a moment before he spoke,
voice still soft.

"Riley, look at me and answer the question. I think I deserve at
least that."

Riley's head snapped up in distress. "We didn't leave you! We just –
you'd have worried about it-"

"You're quite right." Paul said frankly. "But since you've worried me
sick anyway I don't understand why that mattered to you?"

"I just wanted to see," Riley pleaded. "Jas and Flynn were up there,
it was daylight, it should have been safe-"

"You asked me last night and I said no." Paul pointed out. "The only
difference between last night and this morning is about seven hours
of time. Still dark, still no idea where the cougar was and in what
state it was in. The answer was going to be the same and both of you
knew it."

Riley pulled an ugly face that Paul well understood was more based on
controlling emotion than expressing it.

"It wasn't fair we were stuck down here when it was all happening up
there-"

He trailed off. Paul shook his head slowly, regretfully.

"I'm ashamed of you Riley, I really am. You put Dale and yourself in
danger, without thinking for one second what could have happened. How
do you think it felt for me to wake up and find you gone? To find the
horses gone? To imagine where you may be and what state you'd be in
if something had happened to you or to Dale, or the horses?"

Riley put his head in his hands and Paul was aware of why, and that
Riley was past justifying anything. He looked across at Dale, who
looked to him several shades paler although the Board Director body
language hadn't faded.

"I'm ashamed of you too, Dale. While you're here, your safety is our
responsibility. Your safety and well being in general. I take that
responsibility to heart."

Dale felt the internal flinch and kept it from his face. It was
impossible not to like Paul: it was harder still to feel that
anything he had done had been hurtful or distressing to Paul.

"I apologise," he said carefully, aware that what his colleagues
would have called 'the James Bond voice' was slipping badly. "Your
responsibility to my sponsors or-"

"I couldn't care less about your sponsors," Paul interrupted
quietly, "I'm responsible for you and that matters a very great deal
to me. I've let you down this morning and that bothers me a lot. And
you're responsible to us too, Dale. We don't treat each other like
this, we don't leave each other to worry or be frightened, because we
care about one another, and there are obligations to those we care
about. Do you understand that?"

This was more awful than any client meeting Dale could ever remember.
It was an effort to swallow; the criticism was going home like a
knife.

"I should have stopped Riley," he said after a minute, aware he was
sounding strangled. "I apologise. I should have thought how-"

"No, this is not about Riley," Paul stopped him, "You are not
responsible to me for Riley. You are responsible to me for you. It
isn't just Riley we care about or worry about. Don't you ever forget
that and leave me to worry about you again."

That was as disarming as it was shattering. Dale was aware of Paul
taking a seat near him and of Paul's grasp on his wrist, finding
himself stood beside Paul and Paul unfastening his jeans as simply as
if he was a child.

It was so natural as to be unremarkable: when Paul turned him over
his knee he went where Paul led him without question, felt Paul slip
his shorts down and the shock and chill of being bare, and the short
flurry of swats were surprisingly sharp and painful. He had no idea
of how many had fallen when Paul pulled his shorts back into place
and helped him up: only that it had been very brief, so unsensational
as to be child's play, and yet he was shockingly close to tears.

Without moving Dale aside, Paul leaned over to take Riley's arm and
Riley said nothing nor resisted as Paul drew him close, unbuttoned
his jeans and pulled them down, and laid Riley across his lap.
Riley's skin was pale when Paul slid his shorts down and Dale found
himself watching Paul's hand laid across Riley's back, the sharpness
of his other hand slapping swiftly and smartly, leaving a hot pink
flush in its wake. It was no more than eight or ten of those sharp
smacks but the tears were obvious on Riley's face when Paul put him
back on his feet, waiting a moment for Riley to re fasten his jeans.
Then he took them both into the family room, standing Riley on one
side of the hearth facing the wall, and Dale on the other side.

There had not been the faintest urge to protest or resist. Pressing
his forehead to the cold of the wall for a moment, Dale was aware of
the acute smart of his backside which was rapidly fading to warmth,
and of a good deal of distress at Paul's obvious strength of feeling.
He had said nothing more: Dale heard Paul in the kitchen and a few
moments later there was the sound in the yard of horses. Flynn and
Jasper. A moment later, the kitchen door closed and they could hear
nothing at all.







*







They looked equally cold, tired and grim. Paul closed the oven with a
good deal of sympathy, wiped off his hands and kissed Jasper who was
nearest, going past him to bestow a hug on Flynn.



"Sit down, you must be perishing. What did you do with the cougar?"



"You heard the story?" Flynn hung up his jacket and sat down at the
table which was set for breakfast, running both hands over his
face. "We had to rope it and drag it out of the river when Bandit was
done jumping up and down on it-"

"Bandit?" Paul demanded. "I thought Dale shot it?"



"He did." Jasper took the seat opposite Flynn as Paul put hot bread
and a pot of tea in front of them and began to drop bacon into a
skillet. "Bandit was stalking the thing, we could see him hanging
around the bank and wandering slowly down river but we couldn't see
the cougar. We didn't realise what he was doing until we heard the
gun fire. Dale and Riley stopped to water the horses down river from
us and the cougar went for them. Bandit trampled what Dale left, and
we had to wait a while until he let us get near it."



"Good for Bandit." Paul dropped eggs into the skillet after the bacon
and leaned against the counter, watching Jasper and Flynn dig into
the bread and coffee, both clearly ravenous. "You didn't see it
during the night?"



"We thought we did about three am , or at least we saw Bandit go down
towards the river as though he saw something to chase off." Flynn
said grimly. "We found the reason for a cougar being so far north
though. When we picked up what Bandit left of it, it had a foot
deformed, no claws. Most likely it couldn't survive in the terrain
further south, and came looking for easier and nearer game."



"Poor beast." Paul plated up eggs and bacon and put the plates down
in front of them, taking a seat at the table to pour himself a cup of
tea. "Dig in, you must be starving."

"We are," Jasper said through a mouthful of bacon. "We were starting
to lose sensation in our feet and hands this morning when Riley and
Dale showed up."

"And they naturally went straight to the damned thing after we'd
patiently waited eight hours for it." Flynn added shortly. "What have
you done with them?"



"They're standing looking at a wall in the family room, after I
explained what I thought of them disappearing without a word to me."
Paul said candidly. Jasper, who knew him, lowered a loaded fork.



"……..does that mean what I think it means?"



"It wasn't nice to wake up and find the two of them gone after I'd
already spent the night worrying about you two. And the cougar
clearly was still out there, as you hadn't come home." Paul sipped
tea, meeting Flynn's equally startled stare quite placidly. "I
spanked them both. Dale was upset, but I thought it was a good kind
of upset so I let him be. And there wasn't a peep of protest out of
him any more than there was from Riley, they were both thoroughly
guilty."



Flynn turned a Flipping Heck expression on Jasper who looked equally
stunned.



"…. you mean you handled him just like Riley, don't you?"



"I did." Paul confirmed calmly. "Don't let your eggs get cold."



"Paul… it's one thing to use formal corporal punishment – it's no
different to what's standard in schools for goodness sake, it's not
personal or –"



Paul looked him straight in the eye over the rim of his cup, voice
quite calm with a tone they heard in this house very rarely.



"Yes. I agree. And yes, I put him across my knee, bare. Just like I
did with Riley.



"He's a client-" Jasper began. Paul interrupted him without
compunction.

"Nonsense. Riley's perfectly right about this and I could see it
clearly. There is no way at all I could have treated Dale as a client
this morning or even thought of him as one. It would have been a
dreadful thing to do."

Jasper looked at Flynn, who he suspected wore the same expression on
his face. And both of them, under Paul's steady gaze, meekly went
back to eating bacon and eggs.

"How many clients has Riley ever invited out of bed to go and do
something like this?" Paul went on when it was clear no one was going
to argue with him. "How many clients has he ever got involved with
like this? He doesn't see Dale as a client, he never has done. And
how many clients would consider for a minute going with him even if
they were asked?"

"Riley's dropped us into a heck of a mess," Jasper began
cautiously, "We were talking on the way down – we can't cross the
line like this with a client, we have responsibilities-"

"Riley hasn't dropped us into anything." Paul said firmly. "Any time
something like this has happened when a client is here, we've
explained that this is a family matter and asked them to go for a
walk to give us some privacy. And they've been happy to do that,
because they were a client. If I said to Dale this morning, go
upstairs, this is a family matter that doesn't involve you – for a
start I would have been lying. He doesn't think of us as a client
would and we don't think of him as a client either. That line is too
far behind us now to worry about. The cat is out of the bag. The ship
has sailed. The horse has bolted. I'm not going to hurt that boy
because we built a relationship with him as came naturally to all of
us, and then we panicked about formal business ethics."

"So what are you suggesting we do?" Flynn asked carefully. Paul
finished his tea and set the cup down firmly.

"Do what we know is right instead of what we think we SHOULD think is
right, and stop mucking about. Flynn, drink that tea while it's hot
love, you're still shivering."



*



It was nearly forty minutes by the grandfather clock in the family
room before the kitchen door opened. Riley had been shuffling from
foot to foot for a while, and Dale's knees were starting to ache, but
oddly neither of them had said a word in all that time. Riley
straightened up as someone came close behind them; it was Flynn's
voice that said: "All right you two. Take a seat on the hearth."

Almost relieved that the waiting was over, Dale stepped away from the
wall and quietly took a seat on the low hearth wall next to Riley.
Paul and Jasper took seats on the couches near the hearth, both
looking grave. Flynn was gone for a minute into the study and when he
came back it was with both paddles in his hand. Dale recognised the
transparent lexan one: the small, dark wooden one he had only
glimpsed before in a drawer, and his stomach tightened and turned
over. Riley jerked to his feet beside him.

"Flynn! Please-"

"Sit down half-pint, this is bad enough." Flynn sounded bleak but not
in the least unkind. Riley hesitated a long moment, then sat down on
the hearth with his head down.

"This affects the entire family," Flynn said quietly, putting the
paddles down on the coffee table and taking a seat on the third couch
opposite the hearth. "All of us. We do not sneak out of the house
leaving the others to worry and I know Paul's spoken to you about how
he felt when you left without a word to him, but you two had no
business whatever being out on the tops this morning, knowing a
dangerous animal was on the loose up there. People die in cougar
attacks. You should have known better than to just come straight up
to where Jas and I were hunting, you had no way of knowing what you
might have burst in on or interfered with, you might have wasted
hours of our work or even worse you might have been accidentally
shot. And leaving aside that you had no business breaking into the
middle of our work, you should both have known better than to be
anywhere near the river, or any other kind of cover the cougar could
use when you knew it was on the loose! You might easily have been
seriously hurt or killed. We plan how we deal with problems on the
ranch together, as a family, and we all need to stick to those plans.
There's no excuse for not doing so, we have to be able to trust each
other to work together."

He paused a moment, letting that sink in before he looked towards
Riley's end of the hearth.

"Riley, you know very well that guns are never given to anyone that
we haven't taught ourselves to handle them, and you know why we have
that rule. That's inexcusable and it will not be tolerated. Is there
anything at all that either of you have to say for yourselves?"

"We were trying to see if there was any sign of prey up there," Riley
muttered, mostly to the rug.

Paul cut in, gentle voice grave. "Yes, I realised you did a little
computer research yesterday when I was searching the house this
morning. Did you involve Dale in that?"

"You took Dale into the office?" Flynn demanded sharply. Riley
winced.

"I was talking to him about it and we – I can't use the computer too
well anyway!"

Paul looked directly at Flynn. Jasper took over, speaking quietly.

"That door stays closed and that room goes unmentioned for a very
good reason, Riley."

"I know, but it's different!" Riley said plaintively.

"It's a fact," Flynn said grimly, "That you've now given Dale
something else to find hard when he's already got plenty to deal
with. That's plain unkind as much as completely against the house
rules. 'I want' doesn't justify any of this. Not for a moment. Dale,
we'd spoken about getting out of bed at night and you were punished
for that only a few days ago."

"That was my fault." Riley said immediately and very quietly. "I got
him up."

"And he's intelligent enough to know not to go along with you when
you're doing something he knows you shouldn't." Flynn informed
him. "Dale, the house rules are to be kept. And as I know Paul's
already said to you, you have a responsibility to us regarding your
own safety. In this household, dangerous behaviour isn't tolerated.
It isn't just yourself you're risking hurting. Is that clear?"

"Yes." Dale said softly, meeting his eyes. Flynn wasn't angry:
looking at him, Dale could see it clearly. He was intensely serious,
strong emotion was there, but it wasn't anger. It was odd in this
awful moment, surrounded by grave faces, to abruptly feel so cared
about. The circle of faces was hard, to be the centre of such
concentrated attention was very foreign, but that expression in
Flynn's face gave him an extremely safe feeling, which was quite
ridiculous. But it connected to the same feeling that came every time
he'd been called to account in this house: This is going to be ok.

"Yes what?" Flynn said just as quietly. Dale responded without
thinking; a phrase learned years ago from school.

"Yes sir."

Flynn gave him a quiet nod, holding his gaze a moment longer before
he leaned over to pick up the lexan paddle.

"Riley."

"Not that one," Riley said pitifully, although he very slowly got up
from the hearth.

"You hand Dale a gun and try feeding the both of you to a cougar?"
Flynn said dryly. "Definitely this one, half-pint. I don't ever want
you to consider getting into that situation again. Here, now."

Riley seemed to take several months to cross to Flynn's couch. Flynn
said something to him that Dale didn't hear as Paul leaned across to
him, took his hand and pulled gently.

"Come sit with me."

Dale got up from the hearth and Paul drew him to sit on the sofa
beside him, keeping hold of his hand. When Dale looked again, Riley
had pushed his jeans half way down his thighs and was awkwardly
stooping over Flynn's lap on the couch, settling with his upper body
on the couch and his feet on the floor, braced as Flynn pushed his
jeans further down and slid his shorts after them. There was little
sign left of the few brief swats from Paul earlier, but he flinched
visibly as Flynn laid the lexan paddle across his butt, wrapping his
left arm around Riley's waist. Dale looked away as Flynn raised the
paddle, looking hard at the floor as the first loud, sharp swats
began to fill the room, punctuated for the first two or three by
Riley's stifled hisses and mutters, then his voice cracked and Dale
looked up briefly to see Riley's legs twisting and jerking
convulsively as the paddle continued to land soundly across first one
cheek and then the other, he yelped and protested and gripped at the
sofa in front of him and Flynn's jeaned leg, and a moment later his
voice cracked even further and higher and Dale fixed his eyes on his
hands, aware that Riley was crying. And the paddle continued to land,
steadily, rhythmically, underpinning his voice.

Paul held onto Dale's hand and squeezed gently, his thumb rubbing
slowly over Dale's knuckles, but it felt like several years before
the steady paddle cracks increased slightly in volume for a final
three or four swats and then there was silence in the room but for
Riley's sobs. Flynn laid the translucent paddle down on the sofa
beside him and Dale saw him run both his hands gently over Riley's
taut back, rubbing slowly while Riley sobbed across his lap. It was
several minutes before he quietened a little and Flynn put an arm
under his chest, easing him back to his knees on the carpet and
helping him pull his clothes up. Riley buried his face in Flynn's lap
for a moment and Flynn cupped both hands around his head, smoothing
his hair until Riley stumbled to his feet of his own accord. Jasper
leaned across and took his hand, drawing Riley across to him and onto
the sofa beside him, and Riley buried himself in Jasper's chest,
winding both arms tightly around him. Flynn looked tired, but he held
out a hand to Dale, voice quiet.

"Come on then kid."

There was a lot of kindness in his eyes and his voice. Dale made his
legs come to life, got up and went to him, stomach taut, mouth dry,
but there was actually nothing hard about the other three being there
in a circle around the hearth. Riley was still crying softly.
Jasper's arms were around him, he was quiet but there was nothing
angry about him or Paul, just the same seriousness Flynn had. Flynn
took his hand and gripped it firmly, drawing Dale to stand beside
him.

"Drop your jeans."

It was the first time he'd ever heard that request. Dale swallowed
and put his hands to the fastenings, opening them with fingers that
felt suddenly very clumsy. It was no easier to actually push his
jeans down, leaving him feeling very cool and very exposed, but Flynn
was already picking up the smaller wooden paddle from the coffee
table and taking his hand to guide him forward. Dale laid across his
lap, letting Flynn place him with his head and torso on the cool
smoothness of the leather couch and his toes braced against the floor
behind him. He couldn't help but tense at the touch of Flynn's
fingers under the waistband of his shorts, pulling them over his butt
and down his thighs, settling them with his jeans just above his
knees. Then Flynn's arm rested across his waist, Flynn's hand wrapped
warm around his hip, and the first sharp swat of the paddle made him
jump involuntarily, the smart setting light where it fell.

It stung so much more on bare skin! The atmosphere of the room was
heavy enough. The lecture had been a scalding one and the
seriousness, not just of Flynn but of all of them, was as tangible as
the solidity and warmth of Flynn's knees beneath him and Flynn's
torso against his. Unable to help it Dale found himself involuntarily
jumping and squirming at the cracks of the paddle, each one stinging
more than the last as it landed on already stung skin, but the
physical sensation was only a part of it. Flynn's body moved against
his, Riley's stifled tears were audible, Dale heard his own
breathing, strained and noisy in stifled huffs and hisses, and then
without warning a particularly sharp crack of the paddle made him
jerk and tore a yelp out of him and after that he never quite managed
to be quiet again. Flynn wasn't stopping either. The swats came
briskly and with enough force that Dale couldn't stop himself
twisting and rolling, pushing against the floor, then Flynn cleared
his throat. Just slightly, a reflex sound that probably only Dale was
close enough to hear, but the sound of his voice somehow made this
dreadfully, appallingly real. The emotion that had been swelling
since Paul's awful lecture in the kitchen flooded up in one rush,
Dale felt his chest seize and the yelps being pulled out of him were
higher, not disguising the catch in his breathing. His eyes blurred
and he rubbed them sharply on his arm, burying his face in an attempt
to silence himself. And that awful paddle continued to snap down,
making him jerk and kick and twist over Flynn's lap. He flung a hand
behind him once: he wasn't able to help it, and he felt Flynn's hand
clasp his wrist and move it out of the way, holding it firmly while
the paddling continued unabated.

He was crying hard and silently when the spanking finally ceased.
Flynn leaned across his back to place the paddle back on the table
and Dale felt him gently pull his shorts and jeans back into position
before both palms rested on his back, rubbing slowly and deeply. Dale
took a few deep breaths, doing his best to control the shaking and
the need to sob, but very little was happening. It was taking the
pressure of teeth firmly locked in sleeve to achieve silence. And
then Flynn put an arm under him, half lifted him to his feet, and
kept tight hold of him while he walked him swiftly through the
kitchen and out of the door onto the porch, shutting the kitchen door
behind them before he guided Dale to the swing.

He sat down on the swing himself before he drew Dale down beside him,
wrapping an arm around him to pull him over onto his hip and off the
weight of his blazing, very sore backside. That was a serious
incentive in itself not to pull away and sit up, even had Flynn's
grip allowed it. Flynn rubbed a hand over his back, voice quiet and
very firm.

"Dale, breathe."

Dale took a breath and realised what he meant. Being quiet was taking
a great deal of effort and he had been holding his breath to achieve
it.

"Again." Flynn told him, still rubbing his back. "Let it go. You're
safe with us, you've got nothing to be ashamed of."

That disarmed him enough to draw a whoop of breath and Dale found
himself making stifled choking sounds for a moment before Flynn's
hand pushing over his back seemed to free his chest and he gulped
more quietly and more freely. Flynn held him tightly, pushing the
swing to and fro, his voice so deep that it was as much vibration as
sound.

"It's all right. It's ok."

They seemed to sit there for a very long time. Dale eventually ran
his hand over his face to dry it, and Flynn pulled a handkerchief
from his pocket, offering it.

"Sorry." Dale said thickly. Flynn went on rubbing his back; his hand
seemed to have been moving steadily for hours.

"It's over, it's done with, and you're safe with us. You don't need
to put on an act for us."

No. The freedom here was overwhelming. Dale took a few slower
breaths. It was beginning to warm up, the first serious sun of the
morning was starting to hit the porch and the dogs were stretched
out, bathing in it on the warm wood floor. His backside hurt like all
hell, the sheer intensity of the soreness was very strongly on his
mind, but oddly he felt – as he always did at this point – calm.
Clear headed and safe.

"Jasper said to me earlier," Flynn said quietly above him, "He was
surprised you'd go along with one of Riley's madder ideas. He thought
you'd see the problems in it straight away. I wasn't surprised at
all. Do you know why?"

Because you've realised what a complete idiot I am.

Dale didn't answer out loud and Flynn patted his back where his hand
rested.

"After the responsibilities you've held, and the weight that's been
on your shoulders, it's a shock for you to be here where you don't
have decisions to make, and you don't have to be in charge. You don't
have to hide anything. It's sinking in now and it's intoxicating. We
just need to keep you safe until it's worn off a bit and you have
more perspective back."

The understanding and the tolerance in that was shockingly disarming.

"Is that wrong?" Dale said thickly. "I shouldn't be this nuts just
because I'm not working – or I'm working differently-"

"It's a large part of what I want you to experience," Flynn said
calmly. "To let us be in charge, so you have nothing to think about
but basic things you can manage easily. That's part of getting the
stress off you and freeing your mind up enough to think clearly. How
can you understand what you want and what you need if you don't know
what 'good' and 'relaxed' feel like?"

"I don't know what to do."

"You don't need to know what to do." Flynn continued to push the
swing slowly backwards and forwards, arms still tight around
him. "You just need to do as you're told and trust me that I'll set
the pace and not you. And if it's hard, then I'll help you."

Silence.

Flynn's hand patted again, firmly.

"Dale. Don't stew. Tell me."

"It isn't just that." Dale blurted out. "It's Riley too."

"Mmn?" Flynn said mildly. It was an 'I'm listening' sound, neither
arguing nor questioning and Dale took another breath, trying to order
a number of very chaotic thoughts he'd been considering for some
days.

"I knew what Riley was asking this morning and I knew he was acting
on impulse. He expected to be in trouble for it, and I understood
that too. When he explains how he sees things, how he responds to
things, I understand because that's how I am too. The kind of
relationship he has with you- all of you." Dale trailed off and took
a breath. "I probably ought to think it's insane. But I don't because
it makes sense, and I know I'm making no damn sense at all here-"

"Domestic discipline relationships aren't by any means a new thing,"
Flynn interrupted quietly, "They're usually very discreet but they're
not nearly as rare as they look, you'll find them in gay and straight
households. That's just the way we are, all four of us, and we always
have been."

It was peculiarly reassuring to have a word for it.

"Riley said it's different for everyone." Dale said out loud,
remembering a particular conversation. Flynn nodded.

"No two people are the same. But you find people occasionally who
just have characters and personalities who work this way. We four
come under that heading."

"And so do I." Dale finished the sentence for him, breathing out as
it was confirmed in his own mind. "You've known, haven't you?"

"Let's say we suspected." Flynn said calmly. "You understood very
fast how things worked between us and why, and you understood it
instinctively. Once you knew us, the restrictions here didn't worry
you, you actively welcomed them and you're up front about what you
know helps you: you've pushed us for more and for stronger
boundaries. We didn't want to raise this with you now. Apart from
that it's for you to decide what you identify with and how, and it's
not for us to push any kind of label towards you, we felt you had
quite enough to deal with-"

"But it happened anyway. Yes." Dale took another breath, feeling
considerably freer. "I'm not exactly your average client. I realised
that a while back."

Flynn didn't answer for a minute and Dale could feel him choosing his
words carefully.

"This was the lifestyle David and Philip lived too – which I think
you realised – and everyone they gathered into the family, not just
the four of us but the others that have passed through the house,
were connected to it in some way. Not everyone actively lived that
lifestyle themselves or wanted to, but they all understood and
related to it and it was part of what made them friends and connected
to us. You are naturally one of those people. That makes you more to
us than just a client. But that still makes our priority the work
you're doing with us to deal with the problems from your working
life. That's what we most need to help you with right now."

"And leave the rest until that's sorted?"

"There's no hurry." Flynn said quietly. "You're dealing with a lot
just now, I don't want you to rush into making any decisions about
anything for some time yet. I just want you to continue letting
things come naturally, take it a day at a time and not worry about
what isn't yet clear and categorised and labelled. You just need to
be honest with us about what's going on in your head, talk it through
with us and let us help."

Dale nodded slowly. Flynn bent his head and Dale felt the firm
pressure of a kiss dropped into his hair before Flynn got up, putting
Dale on his feet without him needing to sit up.

"I think we're all going back to bed for a few hours, we're all short
on sleep except Paul."