This story is a speculation on the events alluded to by Constable Benton Fraser in "Chicago Holiday" when he tells his 16-year old charge that he once ran away from home at her age because of a "tortured scenario involving a gold mine, a boomerang, and a tank of gas." What could this upstanding Mountie ever have done that would be considered "unforgivable?" Well, forgive me if I don't answer all your questions. I didn't intend to. I'm just using this "scenario" as a backdrop for my story. And Ben is being his usual gentlemanly self and isn't saying much!

Disclaimer: Alliance and dueSouth own these characters. I'm just borrowing them. I'll have them repaired before I return them!

Drama; PG-13; Fraser/Female; Teen-age love; Discussion, but no explicit scenes

A GOLD MINE, A BOOMERANG, A TANK OF GASOLINE...AND YOU

By Mary

It was just before midnight when Bob Fraser entered his small cabin in the Yukon. A lantern had been left burning in case he returned during the night, but the fire in the hearth was all but extinguished, leaving the room only slightly less chilly than the mid-spring night air. He hung his rifle on the rack and turned back towards the door.

"Benton?" he called out in a half whisper.

A few seconds of silence was broken by a whispered, "Yes, Sir?"

"What are you doing out there? Get in here and close that door. You're letting the cold in."

Bob watched the doorway and became very annoyed when his son failed to appear.

"Benton! Do I have to come out there and get you?" he yelled, anger beginning to show in his voice.

"Is she in there, Sir?" Ben whispered confidentially to his father. The voice was nearer now, as Ben stood just outside the doorway.

"Of course she's here. Where would you expect her to be at this time of night? I can't see your grandmother doing anything so stupid as running away..."

"No, Dad, I meant is she in the room?" Ben snuck his head around the door and peered into the cabin. Bob grabbed him by the collar and pulled him inside, slamming the door behind him. Ben lowered his head and waited for the scolding to begin. In all his sixteen years, he'd never seen his father so angry with him. He must have been on some big, important case, tracking a desperate criminal across the wilderness, when he got the call informing him that Ben was involved in some mischief and had disappeared without a trace four days ago. They had barely spoken all the way home, each of them mentally preparing for what was in store when they got home. And now, Ben thought anxiously, it was time to face the music.

By the time Ben's father found him camped out near the river with only his knapsack and a rifle, his provisions had long been depleted. During the first night, he'd come upon an injured wolf cub which had apparently been caught by a hunter's trap. So, he tended to the cub's injuries and then fed it all the food he had brought with him. He thought he'd found a companion for his journey until the cub's pack showed up to reclaim its errant youngster.

Ben saw his father coming as he sat on a rock at the river, fishing for his dinner. His first thought was to flee, but he realized very quickly that running would serve no purpose. His father was a legendary Mountie. He'd find him again, sooner or later. He always got his man. So, Ben held his ground on the rock, proud to show his father that he wasn't afraid, that he was firm in his conviction.

"Where you headed?" Bob asked matter-of-factly after sitting down next to Ben.

Ben shrugged silently, trying to avoid admitting he didn't have a long-range plan yet.

"You can't just sit there on your fanny for the rest of your life. They'll find you in no time if you camp by the river. Of course, you're gonna need food and water, so what's a man to do?"

"I'm not staying here," Ben answered rather insolently.

"You're not?"

"No, of course not. I'm not stupid, you know, Dad."

"Aren't you?" Bob was a little peeved with Ben's tone.

"No, I'm not." Ben was very hurt that his father would think him so incompetent. "If you were ever around, you'd know that." He didn't care if he got into trouble for saying it. It had to be said.

Bob considered chiding Ben for his attitude, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. The boy was right.

"I'm a Scout. I know what I'm doing. And some day I'm gonna be..." Ben stopped himself, suddenly realizing he may have ruined his future plans with the stunt he pulled five days earlier.

"Some day you're gonna be...what?" Bob asked.

"Nothing. It's not important."

"I always thought you'd be a Mountie, like me." Bob could tell by the look on Ben's face that he had correctly guessed what he had meant to say.

"You did?"

"Certainly. You got Mountie written all over you. It's in your blood."

"Really?"

"Yes, but, well..." Bob looked at Ben reprovingly and continued. "This business I hear about you blowing up the abandoned Frobisher gold mine? Something about a boomerang and a tank of gas..."

Ben's face sunk and he dropped his head in shame.

"...Not a very smart move to my way of thinking."

"No, Sir."

"And then running away to top it all. Well..."

"What do you expect me to do? What I did was..." Ben couldn't think of a word to describe the magnitude of his sin.

"Unforgivable?" his father suggested.

Ben nodded, his head still hung in shame.

"That's not for you to decide. It's up to those you harmed with your actions."

"But..." he tried to interject, but Bob cut him off, becoming impatient with his son.

"An honorable man would go back and face what he had done and accept the consequences." Bob paused, then continued, straightforwardly. "A cowardly boy runs away. I hadn't thought my son was a coward. But, there you are."

Ben turned slightly away from his father and wiped tears away from his eyes.

"You keep running, Son, if that's what you have to do. Your decision." Bob pulled some bills out of his wallet and offered them to Ben. "Need a few bucks to tide you over?" Ben shook his head, still looking away, so Bob went in for the kill. "Why are you crying? Isn't this what you want? Out on your own. No one to answer to but yourself. Just like a grown man, eh?"

Ben dried his tears, stood up, and packed up his gear.

"Moving on, Son?"

"Yes, home, if I may?" Ben asked, standing contritely before his father.

Bob smiled. "Your grandmother will be pleased -- after she throttles you for worrying her to death." Bob stood up to join his son. "It'll be dark soon."

"I know the way," Ben said as he headed into the woods.

"If you can't even face your grandmother, how are you ever gonna face Buck...er, Sergeant Frobisher?" Bob asked Ben sternly, still holding him by the collar in the dimly lit room.

"I'm sorry, Sir."

Bob let go of him and started to pace about him. "Yes, well, you'd better have a lot of those to go around. For starters, you can apologize to that woman in there who has raised you for the last ten years as if you were her own child. And, make no mistake, she couldn't love you more if you were her own. And you have the nerve to just throw all that in her face and run off the first time things get a little complicated!" Bob reprimanded him harshly.

"I didn't mean to...I mean, I didn't realize...I wasn't thinking..."

"No, obviously you weren't thinking," Bob cut him off, too angry to listen to any excuses.

"Did you find him, Bob?" Grandma Fraser asked as she entered the room, still half asleep.

"Ah, Mother, yes. Yes, I did. Sorry if we woke you."

"Nonsense. I told you to wake me if you brought him home." Grandma squinted into the darkness of the room, looking for her prodigal grandson. "Come to me, Benton. Let me see you. Are you all right, Honey?"

Ben didn't move, ashamed to present himself to her.

"He's fine, Mother. Do as you're told, Son. Your grandmother gave you an order!"

"Yes, Sir," he replied and then stood before his grandmother, head bowed. "I'm sorry, Grandmother. It was inconsiderate of me to run off and worry you." He realized for the first time how lonely and scared she must have felt, since Grandpa had just died two months earlier. "I won't do it again. I promise."

"It's not me you should be worrying about, it's yourself. Running away never solves anything, Ben."

"Yes, ma'am. I realize that now."

"Good. Now, come here and give me a hug."

Grandma wrapped her arms around Ben in a tight bear hug, gave him a kiss on the cheek and a swat on the buttocks, and heard him whisper "I'm sorry, Grandma" into her ear.

"Sergeant Frobisher's been here every day looking for you," Grandma told him soberly, as she brushed his unruly hair away from his face. "I reckon you need to straighten things out with him right away."

"Yes, ma'am," Ben answered, and he started to leave the cabin.

"In the morning, Ben!" Bob yelled after him. "It's the middle of the night, for God's sake! I doubt you'd score yourself any points by going over there now and waking him up."

"Yes, Sir," Ben replied sheepishly, as he came back into the cabin.

"I'll expect you up early and over to the Frobisher's first thing after breakfast," Bob directed Ben. "And report to me when you get back. You still need to hear a word or two from me about this matter."

"Understood, Sir."

"Good. Now, anyone want to join me in a sandwich? I'm starved!"

Buck Frobisher was having breakfast with his family when Ben arrived at his house the next morning. The room became silent as everyone stared, first at Ben, and then at Buck, uneasy about how he might react upon seeing the young culprit. Ben looked at Buck's teenage daughter, Julie, and noticed she was smiling at him. This flustered him, and he coughed and quickly looked away from her. This was no time for those thoughts, he told himself.

"Well, now, what a surprise. I understood you'd left home, young man," Buck greeted him with a stern look.

"Um, yes. I'm back, Sir," Ben replied anxiously without looking at him.

"So it appears." Buck continued to glare at Ben, making him even more uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your breakfast, Sir," he said to Buck. "Would you like me to wait..."

"Your father's not with you?" Buck interrupted him.

"No, Sir. This was my mistake and I have to right it on my own."

Julie bowed her head, feeling guilty. She knew he hadn't acted alone and was ashamed for allowing him to take the full blame. But he had insisted, and she loved him all the more for it.

Julie Frobisher opened the window leading into her bedroom, then turned to Ben to say goodnight. They stood in the quiet moonlight, embracing, and Ben kissed her sweetly.

"I'd better go in. Goodnight, Ben."

Ben grabbed her hand and held her back. "Wait, Julie. I...I need to tell you something."

"What is it?" She was concerned by his tone of voice.

"I don't know when I'll be able to see you again. I think it's best if I leave town, at least for a while."

"Ben, that old mine's been abandoned for years. No one will even know anything happened," Julie tried to reassure him.

"Someone's bound to have heard the explosion or seen the flames. I should have stayed to put out the fire." Ben was obviously upset.

"Don't be ridiculous! It was out of control. You would've hurt yourself if you tried."

Just then, they heard sirens in the distance.

"Oh, dear!" Ben said nervously.

"Ben, relax."

"They'll find the gas tank and think we set the fire intentionally."

"They won't know it was us. You're just being paranoid because of what we did out there."

"We could've been killed, Julie!" Ben exclaimed in a whisper.

"I know, I know! I was there, remember? It was an accident."

"I'm so sorry," Ben cried as he embraced her tightly. "How could I be so stupid?" Julie kissed him and he responded in like manner.

"We'll always remember our first time," Julie whispered with a smile as he held her and she ran her fingers through his hair.

Ben couldn't help smiling at her remark, but suddenly he had a sobering thought.

"What about your father's boomerang? What if they find it in the rubble?"

By the time he returned home that night, Ben had formed his plan. He quickly and quietly packed his bag, then sat down to write two notes. One to Buck Frobisher, taking full responsibility for the explosion at his gold mine, and one to Julie, telling her about his confession to her father and explaining that he was leaving town because he was too ashamed to face him. Truth be told, he was just as ashamed to face her again. She was right. He was feeling paranoid, but not just because they had made love. The thought that she could have been burned beyond recognition was eating away at his conscience. He should have known better than to fool around with explosives.

In his note to Julie, he insisted she keep quiet about her involvement, as admitting that she was there might invite inquiry into what they were doing up there in the middle of the night, alone together. No matter what happened to him, he was not going to allow her honor to come into question.

"Go to my office. Just through there," Buck answered Ben abruptly, nodding in the direction of his office. "I'll be there straight away."

"I can show him, Daddy," Julie said as she started to get up from the table.

"Sit down, Julie. He can find it himself, can't you, Benton?"

"Yes, Sir." Ben glanced at Julie, then rushed out of the room.

"Don't be too hard on him, Daddy," Julie pleaded on his behalf.

"You don't need to concern yourself with this. I've got to give that young vandal exactly what he's got coming, regardless of how cute you think he is."

"But, Daddy..."

"'Nuff said, Julie. Finish your breakfast," he said then kissed her on the head.

"He is Bob Fraser's son, Dear," Mrs. Frobisher reminded her husband. "He's never been in any trouble like this before. I'm sure he must have a good explanation."

"Yes, Dear, I hope he does. Although I can't for the life of me imagine what it could be."

Julie blushed as she thought about Ben and his good explanation. But she wondered what kind of explanation he would be able to give her father, since he had already promised her he would not tell him the truth.

"I'll be in my office," Buck told his wife as he kissed her before leaving the room.

Buck found Ben standing at attention before his desk. This was Bob Fraser's son, all right. But Buck knew he would have to be tough on him to ensure he learned his lesson.

"Have a seat, Benton," Buck said as he sat behind his desk.

"I'd rather stand, Sir, if it's okay with you."

"No, it's not okay with me. I told you to sit, and that's what I expect you to do," Buck barked at Ben.

"Yes, Sir. Understood," Ben replied as he obediently sat down and stared at the floor. Buck was his father's partner and best friend. But at this moment, he was a man to be feared.

Buck leaned back in his chair and glared at Ben for several seconds before continuing, testing him as well as putting a little of the "fear of God" into him.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't have you thrown into prison."

"I don't know, Sir," Ben mumbled very nervously.

"Mrs. Frobisher claims you must have a good explanation. You are Bob Fraser's son, and Bob Fraser's son does not steal and vandalize the property of others. Is that true?"

"Which, Sir?"

"All of it. Is it all true?"

Ben coughed nervously and answered, "Usually, Sir."

"Usually? What kind of answer is that?" Buck yelled at him. "Are you a vandal, or aren't you?"

"No, Sir," Ben answered, but it sounded more like a question.

"Are you telling me you didn't steal and destroy my property and endanger your life and potentially the lives of others?"

"No, Sir. I mean, yes, Sir, I did do all of that," Ben admitted.

"Then I think I'd better hear that good explanation of yours. Now!"

But all Ben could think to say was "I'm sorry, Sir."

"That doesn't explain diddley-squat! I asked for an explanation, not an apology, Mister!"

"I'm afraid I don't have one, Sir," Ben said as he squirmed in his seat.

"Well you'd better think something up, because you're not leaving this office until I get an explanation, and a darned good one, to boot." Buck stared at Ben sternly, not even blinking. "I'm waiting."

"Yes, Sir." But Ben could not tell him an outright lie and would not tell him the truth. "I'm willing to pay for the damage, Sir. I don't have much money, but if I pay you a little at a time..."

"This isn't about money!" Buck interrupted him, angrily.

"I realize that, Sir..."

"Do you really? No, I don't think you do!" Buck sighed impatiently and took an unrecognizable object out of his desk drawer and held it out for Ben to see.

"Do you have any idea how many years this boomerang has been in my family, or, rather, had been, before you got your paws on it?"

"A long time, Sir?" Ben guessed, looking remorsefully at what was left of it.

"You're darned tooting, a long time! This boomerang was presented to my great-great- great-great-great grandfather," he said, counting on his fingers, "by the RCMP in recognition of his extraordinary tracking skills in rounding up countless desperate criminals, such as yourself."

Ben didn't like being called a desperate criminal, so he allowed himself a little retaliatory impudence and responded, "I didn't think the RCMP was around that long ago, Sir?" He realized as soon as he said this that it was a big mistake.

"Do you need a lesson in the consequences of impertinence to your elders, boy?!" Buck threatened severely.

"No, Sir, I'm sorry," Ben hurried to apologize. "I was wrong, Sir."

"Yes, you certainly were. The point I was trying to make is that that boomerang had very special sentimental value. It was irreplaceable. And you just took it and melted it like so much Gorgonzola cheese!"

"Cheese, Sir?"

"An exploding tank of gasoline will turn anything into cheese. Remember that, son, in the future."

"Yes, Sir, I will." Ben paused. Thank your lucky stars that darned boomerang is the only thing you lost, Bucko! You damnear lost a daughter! he wanted to say. Instead he offered, "It wasn't intentional, Sir. Honestly, I hadn't planned to..."

"What were your plans, young man?"

"It was kind of an experiment, Sir. You know, like a science project?"

"A school project? Why didn't you say so before?"

"Not exactly, Sir. More of a...um...personal project, Sir."

"Hmm, a personal project, eh? To what end?"

"I don't understand, Sir."

"What were you hoping to accomplish by this act of vandalism?"

"I don't know, Sir."

"Well, that's just not good enough! Is it Benton?"

"No, Sir, probably not."

"Are you mocking me?"

"Oh, no, Sir," Ben shook his head emphatically. "No, no."

"This is a very serious matter, Benton Fraser! You stole my property! You destroyed my property! You could have killed someone! You could have killed yourself! What on Earth possessed you?"

"I don't know, Sir."

"Then suppose you tell me what you do know. It's clear you're not telling me everything. Or would you prefer to tell everything down at the police station?"

"I'm telling you everything I can, Sir," he answered truthfully and on the verge of tears.

"What has your father had to say about all this?" Buck sighed and softened his tone. He suspected that Ben was covering for someone and he had to admire the loyalty he was showing to his partner or partners in crime, even at the risk of his proverbial hide.

"Um, not much yet, Sir. I have to see him when I get home." Ben looked at Buck with an expression that added, "if I get home."

"Hmm, I see. I don't imagine he's exactly pleased with your behavior either."

"No, Sir, he's not," Ben said as he shook his head.

Buck got up and started to pace about the room, circling around Ben.

"In the old days, they would've tarred and feathered a fellow for a crime like this. And then thrown him into prison for a year or two for good measure."

Ben swallowed hard. He'd never seen Buck so fiercely angry before. He supposed that was what made him such a good Mountie: his commitment to seeing that justice was done. Ben had always admired that quality in Buck and in his own father, but now he was to be on the receiving end of that justice and he found it more than a little intimidating.

Buck stood before Ben and continued, "But there's your grandmother to consider. With your grandpa gone now...my condolences, by the way..."

"Thank you kindly, Sir," Ben said, looking Buck in the eye for the first time.

Buck gave Ben a sympathetic nod and continued, "...and with your dad away on duty most of the time, I suppose you're really needed at home."

"Yes, Sir."

"So I guess we'll just have to sort this out for ourselves, eh?" Buck said as he walked behind Ben and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm ready to accept whatever punishment you feel is appropriate, Sir," Ben said, continuing to look straight ahead. "And I'm truly sorry for what I did, Sir. It won't happen again."

"Well, I certainly hope not." Buck paused, then continued, "You realize, of course, that since you have failed to provide a satisfactory explanation for your misdeeds, I'm going to have to be severe in disciplining you?"

Ben nodded. He knew he deserved even harsher punishment than Buck realized.

"Is there anything else you'd like to say to me in your defense?" Buck asked, still standing behind Ben.

"No, Sir."

"Then you may stand to receive your sentencing."

Buck couldn't help smiling at the bravery of this young boy who stood at attention, ready to make amends for his crimes. He would make a fine Mountie some day, Buck thought to himself as he put on a stern face and walked around to face Benton.

"Where's Dad?" Ben asked his grandmother upon his return from his visit with Buck Frobisher.

"In his study, I believe," she answered. "Everything okay?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She hadn't expected he would give her details now, as he had an appointment with his father.

"You didn't have any breakfast. Why don't you eat something before you go in there," Grandma suggested as Ben started toward the study. "I'm sure your father wouldn't mind."

"No, thank you, Grandmother. I'm not hungry."

She watched him walk over to his father's study, hesitate nervously, then knock on the door. "Come in," Bob called out, and Ben disappeared behind the door.

Ben approached his father's desk, where Bob sat, writing in his journal. He wasn't sure if his father was aware of his presence, so he coughed to get his attention. Bob still failed to acknowledge him, so he coughed some more.

"Are you coming down with something, Son?" Bob asked without looking up from his writing.

"No, Sir."

"Good. Good."

Ben waited, standing as at attention, while his father finished his work. He tried to read what he was writing, but he was unable to make it out. As his father finished writing and looked up at him, Ben quickly moved his eyes away from the journal.

"Would you like to read this?" Bob asked.

"Read what, Sir?"

"My journals. I noticed you seemed curious."

"I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't mean to pry..."

"No, no, no. It's quite all right. Who do you think I'm writing them for?"

Ben looked at his father and dropped his jaw. Was it true? Was he really writing them for him? And did that mean that all that time he spent writing them was actually spent thinking about him?

"Aren't they your private, personal thoughts, Sir?"

"It's my life, Ben. No more, no less. Certainly nothing I can't share with my son."

Ben looked down, mostly to try to hide the tears that were forming in his eyes against his will.

"They're here, in my desk, anytime you want to read them, Benton," Bob said as he showed him the drawer full of notebooks.

"Thank you, Sir," Ben replied without looking up.

"Well, now, on to business." Bob stood up and walked around the desk and sat on the edge of it near where Ben stood. "Did you square things with Sergeant Frobisher?"

"Yes, Sir," Ben answered, not sounding too sure about it. "He's coming 'round later to discuss my punishment with you."

"Good. Buck's a good man, a fair man. I'm sure he's giving you no more than you deserve."

"Yes, Sir."

"Still, it wasn't easy for you to face him, I imagine."

"No, Sir." And it wasn't much easier to face his father.

"He was pretty upset."

"Yes, Sir. Very much so."

"And I don't blame him. Your actions were downright reckless. You could've seriously hurt someone with your shenanigans. I'm quite disappointed in you, myself."

Ben was silent as tears began to well in his eyes again. Hearing those words from his father hurt him more than any punishment could.

"Not that I didn't pull some equally stupid stunts in my youth," Bob finally admitted.

"You did, Sir? As bad as this one?"

"Ha, worse! And my dad promptly hauled me out to the woodshed and saw to it that I didn't sit comfortably for at least a week!"

Ben and his father looked at each other in silence for a moment. Then Bob went over to the door and opened it.

"Follow me, Son."

"Sir?" Oh, dear! He's really mad at me, Ben thought to himself. His father hadn't taken a switch to him since that time when he was six years old and he sassed his mother with a newly- discovered profanity. He subsequently apologized to her, of course, and was forgiven with a kiss. That was one of Ben's last memories of Mum; two days later, she was dead.

"You heard me. Come on." As Ben joined him at the door, Bob eased his mind. "Your grandmother needs some wood split. I told her we'd take care of it today."

"Yes, Sir," Ben breathed a sigh of relief, but was still bothered by something.

"Let's go, Son," Bob urged him out of the room, but he didn't move. "What's the matter, Ben?"

Ben hesitated before confessing, "I lied to you, Sir."

"Lied? About what?"

"Um...about squaring things with Sergeant Frobisher, Sir."

"You mean to tell me you didn't go over there this morning and see him?" Bob asked with definite irritation in his voice, as he slammed the door shut.

"No, um, yes, Sir, I did."

"You're not making any sense, Ben. Now, let's hear it. The whole story," Bob insisted, standing so close to Ben that they were touching.

"I didn't tell Sergeant Frobisher...everything, Sir."

"What haven't you told him?"

Ben looked down, shook his head, and said, "I can't tell you, Sir."

"You will tell me, Benton!"

"No, Sir," Ben whispered, continuing to look at the floor.

"Obviously you want to tell me, or you wouldn't have confessed to lying. Just get it off your chest, Son. You'll feel better."

"I would, Sir, but I really can't."

Bob sighed and moved away from Ben, trying to remain calm. He could tell that something was really bothering his son.

"Are you protecting someone?" Bob asked after reflection.

Ben looked at him and said nothing at first. Then he mumbled, "Sort of, Sir."

"Did someone put you up to this whole thing? Huh? Answer me!" Bob was somehow relieved that Ben was apparently not the only miscreant involved.

"I wouldn't put it like that, Sir. She didn't exactly...I mean I was..."

"She? A girl? A girl is involved in this mess?"

Ben bowed his head.

"Who is she, Son? Tell me. That's an order."

"No, Sir, I won't. I'm sorry," Ben said as he shuffled his feet anxiously.

Bob sat at his desk. "Then, go. Get out of here," he sighed crossly.

"But, Sir," Ben began to weep.

"If you aren't ready to talk to me like a man, then don't waste my time. I've got work to do. You are dismissed."

Ben stood still, weeping, looking at his father who was apparently absorbed in something else.

"I told you to leave my office, and I'm warning you, further disobedience on your part would not be a good idea right now..."

"It wouldn't be proper for me to tell you about the girl, Sir," Ben hinted in desperation, hoping his father could guess the rest.

"Proper?" Bob looked up from his work.

"According to the code of chivalry," Ben added.

"Chivalry?" As he let this sink in, Bob got up from his chair and slowly went over to his son and put a hand on his shoulder. "Ben...Ben, you and this girl...did you..." Bob and Ben looked at each other. "...were you...intimate?"

"Yes, Sir," Ben whispered, barely audible.

"I see." Bob paced quietly about the room as Ben watched him. "When did this happen, Son?" he asked from across the room.

"Five and a half days ago, Sir."

"Five and a half days ago."

"Plus a couple hours," Ben corrected himself.

Bob smiled at the way Ben was apparently counting the hours. "You mean that same night? Not...at the gold mine?"

"Yes, Sir, at the gold mine."

Bob tried not to smile at the thought of this. "If you don't mind me asking, Son, was this your first time?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And hers?"

"Yes."

"I see." Bob sat on the edge of his desk. "Come sit down for a minute, Son. I think we'd better talk about this," Bob said, not exactly sure what to say to him.

Ben obeyed, actually relieved to have an opportunity to talk to someone about it. "Are you angry with me, Sir?" he asked, trying to assess the situation.

"Angry? No, no, of course I'm not angry. At least, I hope I don't have cause to be. You didn't force yourself on this girl, did you?"

"No, Sir, of course not!" Ben protested, hurt that he would even ask such a question.

"No, I didn't think so. It was planned then, I take it? Your, uh, tryst?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Then can I assume you took proper precautions? I'm too young to be a grandpa."

"Yes, Sir. We used a, um..."

"Rubber?" Bob finished his sentence for him.

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. I must say, Ben, an abandoned gold mine is a unique venue for a first romantic interlude. Any special reason you chose that spot?" Bob tried to keep a straight face.

"It's, um, kind of private, Sir. Between her and me." He was obviously embarrassed.

"I see. Along with the boomerang and the tank of gas?"

"Yes, Sir."

"The thing is, Son, I'm finding it very difficult to imagine how these things all fit together."

Ben looked at his father with eyes that said please don't order me to explain!

"But I won't insist on an explanation as long as you give me your word of honor that you won't ever pull a damnfool stunt like this again!" Bob said sternly.

"Oh, no, Sir. Never. I swear." Ben looked his father in the eye.

"Good. I'm very relieved to hear that. You know, perhaps this whole thing, this trouble you've gotten yourself into, is a sign."

"A sign, Sir?"

"Perhaps you and this girl aren't really ready for all this. You've acted very uncharacteristically. You stole, you trespassed, you lied. The way I see it, anything that causes you to compromise your principles like that, well, I think perhaps it bears further consideration. And I think deep down you know that because, consciously or subconsciously, you seem to have sabotaged your plan so that it, er, exploded in your face, quite literally. You're damn lucky you and Julie weren't hurt."

"I know, Sir," Ben responded, then suddenly realized and looked up at his father. "You know? How did you...? I didn't tell you..."

"You wouldn't tell Buck. Buck is her father. Simple deduction, Son. Besides, it's no secret you two are sweet on each other."

Ben wanted to say something, but he was too upset with himself to speak. What would Julie think of him now, he wondered.

"I just wish you'd come to me first, before you rushed into this."

"You are angry. I'm sorry, Sir, but," Ben had to get this off his chest "...it's not like I can come talk to you anytime I need to. You haven't been home for over five months!" Ben said, trying to make it sound more like an explanation than an accusation. "And we didn't rush into anything. We thought about it for a long time first."

"Did you?" Bob asked, still recovering from Ben's sting.

"Yes, we did."

"I see. So do you plan to continue this, er, relationship?"

"I don't know, Sir." Ben was confused.

Bob leaned in close to Ben and asked, confidentially, "Was it a...um...pleasant experience for you?" He sensed Ben's discomfort. "I only ask because, well, because the first time can be...less than perfect, shall we say. I wouldn't want you to be..."

"It was fine."

"Fine. Well, good. Fine is good."

"I'd rather not go into details, if you don't mind, Dad."

"I understand completely, Son." Bob sat up straight again. "How does Julie feel about what happened between you?"

"Well, we haven't had much time to talk, Sir..."

"When you do, don't be surprised if she becomes, er, well, unpredictable, confused. Sex can do that to a person, especially one so young and, er, inexperienced."

"What do you mean?" Ben was concerned.

"Just that there can be effects that linger well beyond the immediate feelings of pleasure. You've got me to talk this out with. She should have someone, as well."

"It wasn't just...sex...Dad," Ben wanted him to understand. "We're...um...we really care about each other." He couldn't seem to say the word "love" to his father.

"I know you do, Son. I know."

"You won't tell her father, will you, Dad?" Ben asked, apprehensively.

"Great Scot, no! He's definitely not ready for that! But perhaps her mother should know..."

"I promised Julie I wouldn't tell anyone. I've already broken that promise. If anyone else finds out..." Ben panicked.

"Don't fret, Son. I'm not going to tell anyone. I'll leave that to your discretion, yours and Julie's. And you were right to tell me. Anyway, you didn't. I guessed," he winked at Ben.

"Thank you, Sir."

"Well, 'nuff said. I know you'll do the right thing here. I don't need to give you a lecture on the responsibilities of love and intimacy and the emotional and physical dangers of rushing into these responsibilities before you're ready for them."

"No, Sir. I understand," Ben replied.

"Good man," Bob said, and he slapped Ben's thigh and made his way back around the desk. "She is a very pretty girl, isn't she? Looks nothing like her father, thank God!"

Bob smiled at Ben, who smiled back, feeling a weight lifted off his back.

"Now, get cracking splitting that wood for your grandmother," Bob ordered, as he resumed his seat behind the desk.

"Yes, Sir," Ben said as he stood.

"And just keep at it till I tell you to stop. I think there's enough wood there to keep you busy for a good while. I'll send your grandmother out with some lunch for you."

"Understood." Ben walked over to the door and opened it, but before he left he turned to his father and said, "Thanks, Dad."

"Anytime, Son," Bob replied, already busy on something else.

Oh, if only that were true, Ben wished to himself silently.

"Will you still be around tomorrow?" Ben asked, hopefully.

"Afraid not. Gotta get back on the trail, you know. Why do you ask?" He never even looked up while he spoke.

"Oh, nothing. It's not important." Ben started to leave, then turned back. "I was thinking we could go fishing, or something, that's all."

"Well, that's very tempting, Ben. Very tempting. We will do that..."

"Really?"

"...next time I'm home. For sure. You got yourself a date."

Ben looked at his father, heartbroken, but hiding it. "Understood," he mumbled very quietly as he left the office.

THE END

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