Author's notes: For further adventures of Ben and Julie, read "Tears of Unknown Origin," "A Goldmine, A Boomerang, A Tank of Gasoline...And You," and (coming soon) "Two Blushing Pilgrims."

NOTES: Just as Ben's father is one of my favorite characters on dueSouth, he is one of my favorite characters to explore in fan fiction. He strikes me as such a likable guy, yet he has this one glaring shortcoming: he didn't give Ben the attention he needed as a child. And the adult relationship between father and son is strained because of Ben's resentment and Bob's apparent feelings of regret and guilt about his failure to be a better father. However, it also appears to me that, despite their difficult relationship, the two of them love each other deeply. Bob is certainly a complex character, with good aspects as well as failings. He is truly human, with scars and inner conflicts with which he is faced on a daily basis. Ben must have experienced enough of the good in his father while he was growing up so that he could have feelings of love for him as well as wishing to be with him.

While doing research on Inuit culture and family life for other stories, I read a little about their philosophy regarding the discipline of children. The children are very important to them, and they feel it would be wrong to yell at them in anger, as that is liable to break their spirits. They will discipline them, however, even with a spank if necessary, as that is merely a hurt to the skin, not to the spirit. Knowing some facts about Ben's childhood and about the people who raised him, as well as the kind of man Ben Fraser became, I think it is logical to imagine that his parents/grandparents tried to employ a similar philosophy in raising him.

DISCLAIMER: These aren't my toys. I'm just playing with them because Alliance hasn't told me to put them away.

Comedy/Drama; PG-13

THE LITTLEST MOUNTIE

By Mary

"Benton!" I heard my name being bellowed by Grandma from the outer room. Something about the tone of her voice gave me pause, so I decided against running out there to answer her in the flesh.

"What?" I called back to Grandma from the relative safety of my room, where I had just changed into my pajamas and was about to get into bed.

"Come here, please. I need to speak to you."

*Oh dear!* I panicked. If it were simply a matter of needing to speak to me, surely she would have come to my room instead of beckoning me to her with such urgency. "I'm in bed, Grandma," I lied, hoping against hope that it would get me off the hook. Whatever hook it was that I was on.

"Get out here and answer your grandmother immediately!" a stern, irritated male voice ordered me in no uncertain terms. It was my father's voice. A voice I hadn't heard since the day he had left me in the care of my grandparents following the death of my mother. That had been months ago, and in my seven-year-old wisdom and need, I had all but convinced myself that Grandma and Grandpa were my parents now and Dad had died with Mum. That thought was a lot easier to deal with than the thought that Dad simply had no need for me in his life. In my excitement at hearing his voice again, I ignored the obvious harshness of it and hurried out to find him and Grandma standing by the opened gun cabinet.

"Dad! You're home!" I exclaimed as I ran to him and wrapped my arms around his legs in greeting.

"Yes, hello, Son," he answered as he briefly tousled my hair. "Grandmother has something to ask you." He gently loosened my arms from around him and turned me to face Grandma.

"What, Grandma?" I asked, finally noticing the gun cabinet and fearing I was in big trouble.

"What were you doing in the gun case, Ben?" she asked, not even bothering to first ask if I'd been into the gun case.

"I wasn't," I whispered to the floor. I was telling an outright lie and found it impossible to do so with full, unrestrained voice.

"What were you doing in the gun case, Benton Fraser?" she repeated insistently.

"I wasn't!" I forced myself to answer once again, with slightly more volume. I could feel my face reddening with shame and had to hold myself back from touching my nose as I crossed my eyes in an attempt to see if it was growing like Pinocchio's.

"You're lying to me, Ben." There wasn't a hint of inquiry in this statement. She was certain.

"No, Grandma," I contradicted her with yet another lie.

Grandma sighed impatiently and glared at me. "Honey, I'm warning you, if you tell me one more lie, you are going to get a spanking. Do you understand me?"

I nodded, even though I knew that if she asked me again about the guns, I'd tell her another lie.

"Your father's rifle has been loaded and left in the cabinet." She looked at me as if she wanted me to respond to her statement.

"It has?" I must have looked guilty as sin as I stood there, shuffling my feet nervously, unable to look my grandmother in the eyes.

"Yes, it has. How do you suppose that happened?"

"I dunno. Dad musta loaded it, I guess."

"No, Son. The guns are always put away unarmed. You know that." Even without looking back at him, I could feel Dad's disappointed glare focused on me.

"Maybe Grandpa--"

"That's enough, Ben!" Grandma snapped. "I will not listen to any more lies. Now, I thought I made it perfectly clear that these guns are kept unloaded and secured for a reason, and you will not be allowed to play with them as if they were toys."

"I know they're not toys. I wasn't playing with 'em." I spoke these words with the conviction of a clear conscience, as I didn't consider my use of the gun to have been play.

Dad reached out and tugged firmly on my ear and I winced and wriggled in pain. "Out with it, Son. The truth. Is this loaded rifle your doing?"

"Ow, um, yes, Sir," I confessed. "I'm sorry, Dad. But I wasn't playing. I was pracstissin."

"Practicing?" he asked as he let go of my ear.

"Yeah. For when I'm big 'nuff to go huntin'. I wanted to s'prise you by knowing how to use a gun."

"Yes, well, you won't be hunting for a while yet. And if you don't know better than to leave a loaded gun hanging around, then you're obviously not ready to be handling one."

"I do know better, Sir, but..."

"But what?"

"But Grandma was comin' and I didn't have time to take the bullet out." I knew this admission wasn't going to win me a lot of points, but I didn't dare tell any more lies.

"Ah, well, I see. That's all right, then. I mean it doesn't matter if someone might get hurt because you left the gun loaded, as long as you didn't get caught with it. Is that your logic?"

"No, Sir," I whispered. I didn't like contradicting him, but I felt I had to set him straight. "I put the safety on so nobody would get hurt. Didn't I do it right, Dad?"

My father seemed a little annoyed with me for bringing up this point when he was trying to reprimand me for carelessness, but he did admit, "Yes, Ben, you did it perfectly." However, no sooner did he get those words out than he took a firm grasp of the back of my neck and scolded me harshly. "But, it distresses me greatly to find that you have been ignoring the rules around here! The law is the law, Son, whether you like it or not. And if I ever get wind of you breaking this law, or any other law, again, I will arrest you and put you in prison, just like I do with every other law-breaker! Understood?"

I swallowed hard and nodded my head. I wasn't sure whether to believe the part about putting me in prison, but it didn't matter. "I'm sorry, Dad. I promise I won't do it again." I was devastated to have angered him, so I didn't even notice that his grip on my neck was becoming tighter. Grandma came over to loosen Dad's hold on me and he dropped his arm and laid it across my chest, pulling me back against his body. It was almost worth getting yelled at to feel Dad holding me so close.

"Where'd you learn how to load a rifle?" Grandma asked me.

I gripped a fistful of Dad's pant legs in each of my hands as if he were a security blanket. "Um, from Dad. He showed me once when we were--"

Dad quickly cupped his hand over my mouth, but it was too late. I'd already ratted him out. "Okay, Son. I think you've said enough, thank you." He took his hand away from my mouth and I looked up to see him put his finger to his lips to warn me to keep silent.

"Bob, are you unhinged?"

"Now, Mother--"

"Teaching a little child how to use a gun! I can't believe you did such a thing!"

"I didn't set out to teach him how to use a gun. I was loading my rifle. He was there with me, watching. I reckoned it couldn't hurt to give him a quick lesson in safe gun handling. How was I to know he'd take that as carte blanche to help himself to the gun cabinet?" Dad's stern face suddenly softened when he saw me look up at him, and his hand began to gently move back and forth across my chest. "Besides, Mother, you must admit, that rifle hasn't looked so good in years. The boy did a fine job cleaning it, and he did engage the safety." I was amazed. Dad actually sounded proud of me.

"If he touches it again, you'll catch as much trouble from me as he will, Robert! In fact, probably more!"

Dad frowned and looked at me anxiously. "Well, Ben, I'll be counting on you to keep us both out of the dog house," he said in a half-joking manner. I nodded and we stared at each other for several seconds as I pleaded silently for forgiveness. Finally, Dad gave me a quick wink, and I breathed a sigh of relief. "Dismissed, Son," Dad said as he nodded his head in the direction of my bedroom and patted me on the back.

I sensed that he was attempting to help me get away without further admonishment from Grandma, so I started to make a quick run for it. But Grandma just as quickly snatched me by the collar and hauled me before her.

"Uh, no, not so fast, Mister. The fat lady hasn't sung yet."

"Huh?"

"I'm not finished with you yet."

"Oh." I knew I was in for the wooden spoon, but, like any normal kid, I had to try to stall that eventuality, at the very least. I figured if I was lucky I might even manage to charm Grandma out of going through with it. After all, that had worked on Mum once or twice. "You're not fat, Grandma."

I heard Dad chuckle behind me and saw Grandma glare at him. "Sorry," he said and moved away from us and sat down.

"It's an expression, Ben. 'It's not over until the fat lady sings.'"

I started to nod my understanding, but Dad interrupted. "Actually isn't it 'It ain't over till the fat lady sings'?"

"Not in this house," she answered him impatiently.

I could tell that Dad was trying to lighten the situation, but I was afraid he was just angering my grandmother even more, and I didn't want all that extra anger taken out on me. "I promise I won't ever touch the guns again, Ma'am," I said with as much repentance as I could muster.

"I'm sure you won't. However, I'm not so sure about the lying. We've talked about this before, haven't we?"

"Uh huh. I guess."

"And what would you guess I've told you about it?"

"That it's a bad thing."

"And what did I say -- not two minutes ago -- would happen if you kept lying about the gun?" She said this with the graveness of an adult who is telling a child there is no such thing as Santa Claus.

"You'd, um, spank me." My words were barely audible. A kid doesn't like to admit that he misbehaved with full knowledge of the consequences. It leaves him defenseless.

"And I meant that, Ben."

"I know, Grandma."

"Then why did you continue to lie?"

I shrugged and looked at the floor until I heard Dad clear his throat, and then I turned to face him.

"You must have some idea," he prodded me. "A man doesn't lie for no reason."

"I didn't wanna lie."

"You must've wanted to if you were willing to get spanked for doing it."

"I didn't want you to know that I broke the rule about the guns, Dad. 'Specially when you just got home."

"I see. Afraid of what I might do?"

I shook my head. This was not going well. The last thing I wanted was for my dad to think I was afraid of him. But obviously he did, and I didn't know how to convince him otherwise. I looked at my grandmother hoping that she understood. She knew how important my father's love was to me and how I worried that his absence was a sign of his disregard for me. She was always helping me find things I could do for Dad to remind him that I was here and loved him. Things like sending him homemade gifts or pictures I'd drawn.

"No, Bob, I don't think that's what he meant. Was it, Ben?"

"No, Ma'am."

"What did you mean, Son?"

I didn't know how to answer him, so I again looked to Grandma for help.

"Just what he said, Bob. He didn't want you to know he'd misbehaved. You haven't been around to see it, but this son of yours is determined to make you proud of him. If he thought you would be disappointed in something he did, I imagine he'd go to great lengths to keep you from finding out about it. Even if that meant telling a lie." I was grateful for the look of comprehension Grandma gave me as she said that last sentence.

"Oh, I see. So it's my fault he lied, then? Listen, Ben," he scolded, leaning forward in his chair, "I'll forgive a misdeed a lot quicker than I'll forgive you trying to cover it up."

"Yes, Sir," I whispered as I hung my head. Tears were beginning to well in my eyes. Not for fear of punishment, but because of the tone of Dad's voice. It sounded like he had completely despaired of me.

Grandma crouched in front of me, took my hands in hers, and lifted my chin so I'd look at her. "Your father's right. A lie cannot be justified as a means of avoiding owning up to breaking a rule. Do you understand that, honey?"

"Uh huh."

"Good." Grandma looked at my dad as she continued to hold my hands. "Would you prefer to handle his discipline, Bob, or shall I?"

"Oh, um, go ahead, Mother. You're in charge. I'd better let you see to it." I watched as Dad nervously got up and moved away from us to resecure the gun cabinet. As he separated himself from us at that moment, he seemed more like a stranger than my father, and I found myself wishing he would administer my punishment just so he would seem real. When push came to shove, Dad would take me over his knee, but his anger on those occasions always hurt me more than did his belt.

"I won't lie any more, Grandma. Even if you don't spank me," I made a vain plea for mercy.

"I hope that's true, Ben."

"It is. I promise. So, can't you give me a second chance?"

"I gave you a second chance, honey. I warned you to stop lying, but you ignored my warning."

So much for charming Grandma! "But I 'splained why I lied," I whined.

"Yes, and I do understand, but that doesn't mean I excuse it. You knew it was wrong, yet you did it anyway. If I excused that, you'd grow up believing you can rationalize your way out of accepting responsibility for your own behavior."

"What's that mean?"

"It means you can't go through life making excuses whenever you do wrong," Dad interrupted in a loud voice. "You have to face up to it and pay the price, like a man." Dad propped one foot on a stool and leaned forward, waving his arm to direct me to turn and face him. "Listen, Son. When I put a criminal under arrest and he swears to me up and down that he's never gonna repeat the crime, do you think I just let him go?"

I hemmed and hawed, then admitted, "Prob'ly not."

"No 'probablys' about it, Son. I take him in. And why do I take him in no matter how many promises he makes to reform?"

"'Cause it's your duty?"

"Well, yes, it's my duty. But what else?"

I shrugged and looked at him intently.

"Why do I have to arrest a criminal?" he asked.

"'Cause he broke the law?"

"Correct! He broke a law that he knew he'd be arrested for if he was caught." Dad paused and gazed at me sympathetically. "You knowingly broke the law, Ben. Plain and simple. Now it's our duty to take you in."

"Understood, Sir." I could tell what Dad expected of me from the way he looked at me. If I wanted to make him proud, I would have to pay for my crime. So I said no more as Grandma stood up and led me by the hand into the study and closed the door behind us.

When Grandma and I emerged from the study a few minutes later, I saw Dad standing at the hearth, holding a photograph. I squinted and recognized it as a photograph of him and Mum on their wedding day.

"Go to bed, dear. It's past your bedtime," Grandma ordered me softly.

"Yes, Ma'am."

Dad put down the photograph when he heard us, and as I walked across the room, gingerly massaging my behind, he grabbed onto my pajama top and detained me. I lost all awareness of my smarting backside as I stood before him, hoping for nothing more than to be sent to bed with a fatherly "good night."

"A man always feels better when he's paid for his crime," he said very uneasily.

"Yes, Sir," I replied through stiff lips.

"I'll bet it won't be hurting for long," he leaned in to encourage me.

"Okay." If only he had taken me to him in a reassuring embrace, I wouldn't have cared how much the spanking hurt.

"You didn't cry, did you?" he asked, cocking his head almost as if he was afraid to hear the answer.

"Uh-uh," I shook my head in response.

"Leave him alone, Bob. He cries less than you did at his age."

"Mother, please..."

"He's a child. It's only natural he'll cry once in a while."

"Is that true, Son? Are you a child?"

I was a little angry at my dad for putting me in the position of having to answer that question. If I answered 'no,' I'd be contradicting my grandmother, which was often a punishable offense. If I answered 'yes,' my dad would want nothing to do with me. But I really had no choice. I stood as straight as I could before my dad and replied "I'm a man, Sir."

Dad beamed proudly and slapped me on the back as he said, "My son is a man, and it's not natural for a man to cry. Right, Son?"

"Right, Sir."

"This man needs to go to sleep now, Bob," Grandma broke in as she put her hands on my shoulders. "It's late."

I glanced at Grandma and then looked back at my dad for permission to go to bed.

"Of course. Run along, Son. I'll see you in the morning before I leave."

"You're leaving already?" I said despondently. It was much harder to hold back my tears now than it had been while Grandma was spanking me. But it also seemed even more imperative that I not cry at this moment.

"Yes, I'm leaving. I have a job to do. Have you forgotten that?" He appeared very irritated with my question, so I didn't press the matter any further.

"No, Sir. Good night," I said as I held out my hand, hoping he would reciprocate. He did and we shook hands firmly and then I turned to leave the room.

"I'll come to kiss you good night, honey," I heard Grandma promise as I reached my bedroom door.

I hadn't expected Dad to tuck me in, so I was unprepared when I felt his rough hand wiping the tears from my cheek as I lay on my stomach with my eyes closed.

"Tears, Son?" he asked disapprovingly as he sat on the bed next to me.

I had tried not to cry, but once I got into bed, my body began to convulse and I was overcome by an uncontrollable sob. By the time Dad came into the room, I was no longer actively weeping, but it was very evident that I had been. After all that had happened that night, I wasn't up to facing him with tears on my face, so I pretended to be asleep.

I'm not sure if Dad fell for my ruse or if he just decided to let me have my sanctuary. Without saying another word, he pulled the blankets tightly around me, quickly caressed the back of my head, then stood up. My eyes were still closed, but I was aware of him as he stood there for what seemed like an eternity, watching me sleep. Well, feigning sleep.

I wanted to open my eyes to look at him so I could see what kind of expression was on his face, but by doing so I would have risked receiving his disapproval. With my eyes closed, I could imagine that he was enjoying watching me because he'd missed me while out hunting down criminals these past several months.

"Good night, Son," he finally said and walked toward the door.

I heard him turn out the light so I opened my eyes slightly and, in the safety of the darkness, I replied softly, "G'night, Dad." As the light from outside my room illuminated my face, he caught my eyes on his way out the door and smiled, and my heart was immeasurably gladdened.

I wasn't even aware that I'd been asleep yet, when suddenly I was being nudged awake and I heard my father urging me, "Let's go, Son. The day's a'wastin'. We got a job to do." I forced my eyes open and saw that it was still pitch dark.

"What's goin' on, Dad?" I yawned as I stretched my body awake. "What time is it?"

"Four-thirty. Up and at 'em, Ben!" Dad switched on the light at my bedside. "Don't want the sun to beat you outta bed, do you?"

I scrambled out of bed and stood in the middle of the floor, at a loss as to what I was supposed to do next.

"Well, don't just stand there, Cadet! Get dressed! Get dressed! Are you coming on this job with me or not?"

"Job? You want me to come on a job with you, Sir?"

"I don't want you coming anywhere with me looking like a sleepy little boy."

I ran to my closet and threw on some clothes. As I sat on the bed and put on my socks and shoes, Dad grabbed my Stetson from the shelf and dropped it onto my head.

"Oh, Dad. I forgot. Grandma wanted me to help Grandpa with the chickens today."

"Don't fret about that, Son. I've already spoken to your grandmother. She knows you're coming with me." Dad gave me a questioning look and added "If you want to, that is. I mean, if you'd rather stay home and help Grandpa with the chickens..."

"No, Dad, I wanna come with you!" I assured him. After a short pause, I asked "Where are we going?"

Dad and I met Buck Frobisher at an RCMP Patrol Cabin. The night before, Buck had managed to capture a poacher they'd been after for weeks, so Dad was meeting up with him so they could bring in the poacher together.

"Damn, if that's not the puniest little Mountie I ever did see!" the prisoner exclaimed sarcastically when he saw me.

I was a little apprehensive about being near one of Dad's prisoners after hearing all his stories about hunting down the world's most dangerous criminals, so I hid myself behind Dad, grasping onto his trouser-leg for comfort.

"And a yellow one, to boot!" the prisoner added.

"Well, now, that just shows how little you know about the Force, Mister," Buck spoke up in my defense. I looked at him and he winked, then continued. "That fine young Cadet over there happens to be our proud future. And you'd be smart not to antagonize him in these, his formative years."

"Oh, yeah, I'm shaking in my boots! The kid's gonna come after me!"

"A Mountie never forgets someone who owes a debt to society - however insignificant it might seem." Buck motioned me to him with a gesture. "Come, Cadet Fraser. Take a good look at this deviant."

I didn't move, but Dad took hold of me and firmly brought me around in front of him. "Go on, Son," he said as he gently pushed me toward Buck. "It's completely safe. The prisoner's tied up."

I crept over to Buck, who took me close and placed his arms snugly against either side of my chest. To be so embraced by this strong man gave me a great feeling of security. Buck pulled my Stetson back on my head and said, "All right, Fraser. Look at this criminal. What do you see?"

"A man, Sir."

"Yes, well, sure, a man. But what's different about this particular man?"

I squinted and looked hard at the prisoner. "I dunno. He looks just like a regular man to me, Sir." As I continued to lean forward, studying the prisoner, he suddenly shouted "boo!" in my face, startling me back into the protective arms of Buck.

"It's okay. He's not gonna hurt you," Buck reassured me while massaging my neck and shoulders.

"Give me something to gag him with," Dad said as he held out a hand to Buck and gave the prisoner a menacing glare.

"Oh, no, no. Can't do that, Bob. The boy's gotta be able to see the mouth. You know that."

"The mouth?" Dad questioned him.

"Certainly. The mouth. The surest way to tell a criminal from an honest man."

"It is not," Dad countered.

"What're you talking about? Of course it is. Every Mountie knows about the mouth."

"Every Mountie knows about the eyes, you mean," Dad corrected him.

"The eyes? Have you lost your bag of marbles? The eyes, indeed!" Buck laughed.

Dad came over and bent down to me while directing my attention to the prisoner. "The eyes are a dead giveaway, Son. Look at them, and you can see inside the man's soul. You can tell if he's happy or sad, friend or foe, honest or dishonest--"

"Hogwash!" Buck interrupted. "I suppose next you're gonna claim you can tell what he's had for breakfast!"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Dad answered. "But, you know, Benton, if you look just right, you can sometimes tell if...if he's gotta..."

"If he's gotta...what?" Buck asked.

"If he's gotta...you know...relieve himself," Dad whispered loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Wow!" I exclaimed. "Really?"

Dad put his hands on his hips and shrugged. "Sometimes...if you look at them just so."

Buck started to expound on the virtues of the mouth in gauging a man's character, but I didn't really hear what he said. I was too busy staring at the prisoner's eyes, looking for any of the signs that Dad had said were there to read. I think the prisoner was probably playing with me, but suddenly I was reading a message loud and clear.

"Dad!" I yelled proudly, tugging at his jacket to grab his attention as he argued with Buck.

"What is it, Son?"

"I think he's gotta go!"

It was a long drive to the RCMP detachment, where Dad and Buck Frobisher had to take their prisoner. I sat in the front seat of the police truck between them and was soon caught up in watching Dad's feet as they worked the myriad of pedals on the floor. The hypnosis was broken when I felt Dad elbow me.

"Hat, Son."

"Huh?"

"Not in the car."

"Oh," I said, and I removed my Stetson and placed it on my lap. Then I noticed that Buck had put his hat atop the dashboard, so I wriggled to the edge of the seat and placed my hat carefully next to Buck's. I looked back to Dad for an assurance and noticed that, although his eyes were concentrated on the road, they were decidedly smiling.

Apparently, Buck hadn't had much sleep the night before, because within minutes of the start of our drive, he was dead to the world and snoring as loudly as an angry grizzly. I tried to do the polite thing at first and pretended I didn't notice the noise he was making, but that kind of restraint was beyond me. I stared at Dad silently until he favored me with an intermittent glance while trying to keep an eye on the road. We didn't say anything, but on one of my dad's glances at me he gave a wink and a smile, and my face was overtaken by an ear-to-ear grin.

"Let this be a lesson to you, Benton. When you're looking for your partner, the man who's gonna be on the trail with you, day and night, make sure he doesn't snore! In my naivete, I overlooked that and now look what I'm stuck with!"

"You ain't the only one stuck with it!" the prisoner suddenly commented from the back seat.

I giggled and turned around in the seat, propped on my knees. "Do you snore, Mister?" I asked the prisoner, just looking for a little time-passing conversation.

"No, I don't snore. I do something much better than that," he teased me.

"What?" I asked.

"EAT NOSEY PARKER KIDS!" he yelled in my face as he suddenly lurched forward in his seat as far as the restraints would allow him.

I screamed in fright and grabbed onto my dad, causing him to momentarily lose control of the car. He quickly regained control, brought the truck to a stop, and then reached over and applied a solid 'settle down' slap to the seat of my pants.

"Ow, Dad!" It didn't really hurt; I just wanted him to think it did.

"Sit down on that behind of yours unless you want me to give it a real smack!" he warned angrily.

I immediately obeyed and answered penitently "Sorry, Dad."

"You coulda got us all killed with your shenanigans!"

"You tell 'im, Dad!" the prisoner yelled from the back seat. "You know, I could sue you for reckless endangerment."

"Shut up!" my father ordered him. He was very upset, and I realized I had to try to pacify him.

"I'm Sorry, Sir. I didn't mean to. It was a accident."

Dad sighed deeply, then lectured, without looking at me. "A moving vehicle is no place for antics like that. This is serious business, Son," he explained, obviously trying to be patient with me. "Would you like it if I jumped on you when you were driving?"

I laughed instinctively at the thought of me driving and Dad shot me an angry glare.

"No. I know, Dad. I won't move. I promise."

"And no talking to the prisoner. He's just looking to start trouble."

"Hey!" the prisoner interjected. "If memory serves, it was your little Mountie there that started it. I was just minding my own--"

"I didn't start it, Dad! He did! He said that-- "

Dad put his hand on my head to silence me and gave me a warning glare, then turned to face the prisoner. "You shut up or I'll gag you!" Dad bellowed at him, and the prisoner sat back and didn't say another word. "And, as for you, Benton. Any more horseplay and you'll--"

"I'll be good, Dad."

Dad squinted at me sternly. "Okay. All right. Then is it safe for me to start the car and be on our way?"

"Yes, Sir."

Dad was clearly irritated as he settled back into position and started the car. As he drove on, I sat there staring at him, trying to ascertain if I was forgiven.

"What's on your mind, Ben?" he asked after noticing my concerned gaze.

"Um...I was wonderin'..." I stopped as I was hesitant to ask the question.

"Yes, yes...wondering what? Spit it out, Son."

"I, um, don't want you to be mad at me, Sir."

"Ah," was all he replied.

He didn't seem to be going to say anything else, so I turned my eyes from him and hung my head in despair. Within seconds, I felt Dad's arm around my shoulders, coaxing me to lean against him.

"Take a nap, Ben. It's gonna be a long ride yet."

"I'm not tired, Sir. I can stay awake with you." I was determined to show him how strong I was. And I also didn't want to forfeit any of my time with him, even if he was mad at me.

"Yes, I'm sure you can. But, you know, when you're on the trail like this, you have to think ahead. Maybe you're not tired now, but if you don't rest when you have the chance, you might become tired later on, when you've got important work to do."

"What important work?"

"Oh, well, you never can tell. That's the thing about this job. You gotta be ready to go at a moment's notice."

"Oh." Dad loved talking about being a Mountie, and I loved listening to him. So, I snuggled against his body and grasped his jacket between my fingers. I remember Dad humming a tune while I watched his feet work the pedals of the car and gloried in the warmth and the scent of him. I was going to stay awake and enjoy every last second of this precious time.

The next thing I knew I was waking up on a strange couch in a strange room and a strange girl was staring at me with her face so close we were practically touching. It startled her a little when I suddenly opened my eyes, and she drew back just a bit.

"Hi," she greeted me as if I belonged there.

"Hi," I replied without moving. Grandma had taught me that politeness was always the first order of business when meeting someone new.

"You were sleeping."

"Uh huh."

"My daddy said you had a big day so I shouldn't wake you up."

"Oh." The girl appeared to be about my age and she seemed to know who I was. However, I was certain we'd never met. I would've remembered her. She was nice, for a girl. Actually, I'd never really known any girls, but I'd always assumed them to be sort of an alien race. This girl didn't seem much different than me. As I sat up, I noticed she was wearing a Stetson. "Is that my hat?"

"Uh huh. D'you wannit back?"

"I don't care," I said, shrugging. I was trying to appear cool and calm, even though inside I was near panic wondering where the hell I was and what had happened to my dad and Buck. *Had the prisoner somehow got free and done something to them?* "You can wear it if you wanna. I never saw a girl Mountie before."

"Well, I never saw a little Mountie like you before either."

"I'm not...a Mountie. I'm a Cadet."

"Really?"

"Um, well, it's pretend. When I put the hat on, I'm a pretend Cadet. Someday I'm gonna be a real one, though."

"Gosh! I never knew a boy who was gonna be a Mountie before!"

"My dad's a Mountie," I stated, trying to impress her even more.

"I know, silly. So's mine."

"He is?"

"Sure! Your dad and my dad are pardners."

Well, there was that mystery solved. Sort of.

"Buck Frobisher is your dad?"

"Uh huh, 'course he is. What'd you think?"

The girl started laughing and I blushed. I don't know what she expected me to think. I'd never met any of Buck's family.

"You're funny, Ben," she continued to laugh.

"You know my name? How--"

"Well, look who finally decided to wake up!" I couldn't have been more excited and relieved to hear my father's voice.

I saw my dad and Buck come into the room and stand behind the girl, so I jumped off the couch and ran over to Dad and embraced his legs.

"Dad! You're here!"

"Certainly. Where'd you think I was?" he asked.

"Is this the jail?"

"The jail? Does this look like a jail to you?" Dad laughed.

"The prisoner..."

"Oh, we dropped off the prisoner over an hour ago, Benton," Buck explained. "This is my home. I see you've met my daughter, Julie."

"Oh, um, yes, Sir. I guess so." I snuck a shy peek at the pretty mystery girl who looked so fetching in my hat.

"I didn't wake him up, Daddy," Julie said. "I was just watchin' him and he woke up all by hisself."

"Dad, you said I could go inside the jail," I whined when I realized I'd missed the best part of this adventure.

"You were sleeping, Son. I tried to wake you -- Buck and I both tried -- but you wouldn't stir."

"Well, I'm stirred now. Let's go back. I wanna see the jail," I pleaded, trying to pull him to the door.

"No, 'fraid we don't have time to go back now. Next time."

"No! I don't wanna wait for next time. You always say that, but I never get to go!" I pouted and stamped my feet in a temper tantrum. "Take me now! You promised you would! You promised, Dad! It's not fair to break a promise!"

"All right, Ben, that's enough! Any more lip from you and I'll send you to another room to sit by yourself until you're ready to behave!"

I hung my head to hide a blush. I didn't like being yelled at in front of other people. And especially in front of this pretty girl.

"Where'd you get this?" Buck asked Julie as he lifted the hat from her head and then placed it on mine, burying most of my downcast face. "Isn't this your Stetson, Cadet?"

I nodded, but didn't look up.

"He said I could wear it if I wanna," Julie answered.

"He did, did he? Well, Cadet Fraser, is that true?" he asked me as he pushed the hat back on my head and I lifted my face to him.

"Uh huh...I mean, yes, Sir. My grandma told me I should always share my stuff."

"Oh, yes, I see. Well, that's quite right, normally, Cadet. But, you see, the uniform...a Mountie's uniform isn't 'stuff' to be shared with little girls. It's his responsibility, his pride and joy. So, you just hang onto the Stetson and keep the sharing to your toys, eh?"

"I don't have any toys, Sir," I replied earnestly.

"No, I know you don't have any toys with you. I meant when you get back home."

"I don't have any toys at home either, Sir."

"What? None?" Buck asked, incredulous. "What's he talking about, Bob?"

"Er, um, well....now, Son, don't exaggerate. You certainly have toys. Your moth...uh, you've been given toys..."

"Yeah, I know. But I don't have 'em any more. They were baby toys. I'm bigger now. I don't need toys. They're, um, friverliss."

I noticed that Dad seemed very uneasy. He was pacing behind me, and I heard him mumble to himself a couple times.

"That's a serious-minded kid you got there, Bob," Buck said to my father.

"You can play with my toys, Ben," Julie said.

I was very touched by her sweet offer, but, well, her toys would be girl toys. So, I didn't respond, as I didn't want to hurt her feelings.

"Well, Son," Dad nudged me. "What do you say? Julie's made a very generous offer, don't you think?"

"Uh huh. I guess."

"Go on, then. Run along and play with your girlfriend."

"Dad!" I exclaimed, blushing in embarrassment.

"Her father and I have business to attend to. Off you go, now. Have fun."

"I got a real cool new doll house for my birthday," Julie told me excitedly.

I looked at my dad in horror. *A doll house?* "But, Dad, can't I stay with you and do the Mountie bus'ness?"

"I'll just be in the other room, Ben. We'll be spending the night here, so you might as well enjoy yourself. You'll have a much better time playing with Julie than you will listening to me and Buck talk shop."

"No, I won't. I wanna do the Mountie stuff. You said I could. You said so, Dad!"

Dad grabbed my arm and took me off to one side and gave me a private talking-to. "I'm losing my patience with you, Son. I want you to stop this whining right now, d'you hear me? What would your grandmother say? Would she put up with this nonsense, eh?"

"But, Dad, I can't play with girl toys," I whispered to him so Julie wouldn't hear.

Dad nodded to show that he understood, but, despite that, he still leaned in and whispered, "Come on, Son, it won't kill you," and with his stern 'I mean business' glare, he guided me to Julie's side. "No more arguments, Benton. Either you play nicely with your new friend, or you may go home." It was an empty threat, since we were much too far from home for me to walk. "Understood?"

"Yes, Sir," I answered reluctantly. I couldn't bring myself to openly defy him in front of everybody. Dad slapped my shoulder and winked at me and then disappeared into the study with Buck, leaving me alone with Julie and the prospect of an afternoon spent playing with dolls. I was very disappointed that Dad didn't want me with him, and my hurt quickly turned into anger. I determined I'd teach him a lesson for dismissing me. *I'll show him,* I thought to myself. *I will go home.*

"'Bye, Julie," I said as I offered a handshake.

"'Bye?" she asked. "Where're you goin'?"

"Home." Julie didn't offer her hand so I turned and started to make my way to the front door.

"Wait, Ben. I thought we were gonna play?" She ran after me and grabbed my arm to stop me.

I felt a stab of guilt when I saw tears filling Julie's eyes. I knew I'd probably hurt her as much as my dad had hurt me. "Um, well, you go ahead. I can't. I gotta go. But thank you, anyway."

"We don't have to play with the doll house if you don't wanna. I have other toys." The poor girl sounded desperate for me to stay. She must have been as lonely as I was.

"I can't. I'm sorry, Julie." I was so full of anger at my dad that all I wanted to do at that moment was hurt him in any way I could, and I couldn't worry about hurting anyone else in the process. I ran out the door, got into the truck, and found the keys in the ignition. I hadn't noticed that Julie had followed me every step of the way until I found her sitting in the passenger seat.

"You know how to drive?" she asked me, impressed.

"Sure, it's easy," I stated hopefully. It certainly looked easy enough when Dad was doing it.

"My dad won't even let me pretend to drive the car. You got a cool dad."

Well, I was pretty sure 'cool' wasn't gonna be the word for him when he got his hands on me after this, but I decided to put that thought out of my head. "You better go back in the house now so I can go." I looked out the windows in all directions and asked, "Um, do you know which way my house is?"

"I dunno. Don't you know?"

"Yeah, sure. I mean, it's gotta be around here someplace. I'll just drive 'round till I find it." I took a deep breath and put my hand on the key. "'Kay, you gotta go now," I said as I turned to look at Julie.

"No, I'm gonna come with you. This is a lot funner than a doll house!"

"You can't come with me."

"Why not?"

"Just 'cuz. Your parents didn't say you could."

"Okay, I'll go ask 'em. Wait for me."

"No!" I yelled in a panic. "You can't do that."

"Why? Don't you like me, Ben?"

"No...um, yes, 'course I do." I was blushing again. *Darn!*

"Really? You do?"

"Yeah, sure. But..."

"But what?"

"My dad doesn't know I'm drivin' home. I wanna surprise him. So if you go ask your parents to come with me, you'll spoil the surprise."

"Oh, okay." She didn't sound happy about it, but she agreed anyway. I breathed a sigh of relief as she seemed about to get out of the car. Unfortunately, she came up with a better idea. "Take me for a ride first before you go. Please?"

"A ride?"

"Yeah, just 'round here. Then I'll go back in the house and I won't tell anyone where you went. I promise."

I wasn't crazy about the idea, but I was in no mood to argue with her, so I agreed. I sat forward in the car and attempted to reach the gas pedal with my foot. To my dismay, I found that in order to reach it, I had to slink so far down that I couldn't see out the window. "Darn!" I cursed under my breath.

"Whattsa matter?" Julie asked.

"The pedal's too low. I can't see where I'm goin'."

"I thought you said you drove before?"

"Um, yeah....but not this car. This one must be bigger." I frantically tried to think of a solution to this problem. *If only my legs were a little longer,* I wished to myself. Then it came to me. It was perfect. Julie. She was just sitting there, doing nothing. She could be my legs. "Hey, you wanna help drive the car?"

"Me? Really? How?"

"Come sit here, in front of me."

I guided Julie to the floor and pointed out the position of the pedals, explaining what they were as best as I could. Then I positioned myself at the edge of the seat so that I could reach the steering wheel and the gear shift control and straddled my legs around Julie so that her head rested between them. She didn't look very comfortable all scrunched up on the floor, but I guess she was enjoying the adventure so much that she didn't notice her discomfort. I gripped the steering wheel and sighed in anticipation.

"Hey, Ben, there's three pedals, but I only got two feet."

"That's okay. You don't use 'em all at the same time. I'll tell you what to do, don't worry. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Ready?" I asked, as much to myself as to her.

"Yup. Ready."

My heart pounded in my chest as I turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life. I took hold of the gear shift knob and tried to move it, but it wouldn't budge. Then I remembered that Dad had depressed one of the pedals whenever he moved this knob. So, I instructed Julie to push down on the clutch, and I was then able to shift the knob into the first position. I then had Julie depress the accelerator and take her other foot off the clutch, but before I could explain how this should be done, she floored the gas pedal and quickly disengaged the clutch. The truck lurched noisily forward about five meters, then came to an abrupt stop as the tires squealed and skidded.

Julie and I were both thrown about by the car's sudden movements, but were luckily unharmed. Quite shaken, yes, but physically unharmed. We hurried out of the truck and found that we had crashed into the gate in front of the house, totally destroying it.

"Uh-oh," I muttered. "Boy am I gonna get it!"

"You haven't really drove a car before, have you, Ben?"

I looked at Julie then hung my head in shame as I shook it.

"Mum and Dad are gonna kill me!" Julie cried as she surveyed the damaged gate.

"No, Julie. It was all my fault. I'll tell 'em I did it."

At that moment the Frobishers and my dad came running out of the house and discovered our accident. Julie's mum rushed over to us to make sure we weren't hurt, and Dad and Buck stared at the truck and the gate that was crushed underneath it.

"Great Scot!" Buck exclaimed. "What in God's name happened here?"

I approached Buck with severe trepidation and confessed, "I did a bad thing, Sir."

"Benton? You are responsible for this?"

"Yes, Sir..."

"No, Daddy, it wasn't just him," Julie interrupted me. "He couldn't drive the car by hisself."

"Drive the car? I must be hearing things," Dad said as he mimicked trying to clean an obstruction from his ears. "Please tell me, Son, that you were not driving the truck."

"I can't, Sir," I looked him in the eye and admitted.

"You can't what?"

"Tell you that."

"If I were you I'd try, 'cause, believe me, Son, if you were driving the truck, you're in more trouble than you can imagine."

"I know, Sir. But I'm not allowed to tell a lie."

"I see. Well, perhaps you'd better come with me then."

"Yes, Sir," I mumbled and moved apprehensively toward my dad, until Buck grabbed me.

"Hold on a minute, there, young Fraser. And you, too, young lady." He snatched Julie from her mum's side and stood her next to me before him. "Are you two all right? Anyone hurt?"

"We're okay, Daddy."

"Good...well...you both got a lot of explaining to do! You were supposed to be playing in the house. And I think you know, little Missy, that you are not allowed near a car unless an adult is with you. You could have been seriously hurt."

"I know, Daddy. I'm sorry."

"Were you in the truck with Benton?"

"Uh huh. Are I in big trouble, too?"

"Yes, I should say so. You've both been very, very naughty," he scolded us gently but firmly.

"Don't be mad at Julie, Sir. It was my fault."

"I see. So, it was your idea to crash the truck into my gate, was it?"

"Um, no, Sir. That part was a mistake."

"Believe me, Son, that wasn't your only mistake," Dad interjected sternly.

"No, Sir," I whispered as I hung my head.

"All right, then, let's go." Dad grabbed me by the collar and started to pull me after him. "Buck, may Benton and I use your study for a minute?"

"Now, Bob, don't be too hard on the boy. Remember, no one was hurt," Buck said.

"Yeah, well someone's sure gonna be hurting when I'm through with him!"

"Wait, Mr. Fraser," Julie yelled after us. Dad stopped and we watched Julie go to the truck and pick up something from the front seat. She then ran over to me, carrying my Stetson, and placed it on my head. "Here, wear this -- for good luck," she whispered in my ear and then kissed my cheek.

"Thanks," I replied shyly, and then Dad resumed dragging me into the house by the scruff of my neck.

"Take off the hat, please," Dad ordered as he closed the study door.

I obeyed and held the Stetson tight in my hands, nervously fingering and fumbling with the brim. To say Dad was angry would be an understatement. And, as much as I was dreading what was about to happen as he towered over me, removing his belt from around his waist, it was his anger that I found most worrisome.

"I'm sorry, Dad," I offered feebly.

"I'm afraid 'sorry' isn't good enough." He folded the belt in half and held the buckle in his hand.

"I didn't cover up what I did," I reminded him.

"Uh huh. Go bend over the desk," he commanded in a subdued voice while directing me with his arm.

I walked solemnly over to the desk, followed closely by Dad, then turned to face him. "Will 'sorry' be enough after you spank me, Dad?"

"No, it won't! Nothing is going to be enough, Benton!" He took my Stetson from me and threw it onto the desk, then let his obvious anger explode. "What the hell was going through your mind? Aside from the fact that it's illegal for a seven-year-old to drive a car, you could've killed yourself. And to put that little girl's life in danger as well, well, that is unforgivable, Son. Unforgivable!"

"Yes, Sir," I cried as I turned and lay across the desk. Yes, I was crying. With wild abandon. But I didn't care that I was about to be belted. I had known from the moment I decided to pull this stunt that I'd get it in the end, so to speak. And, in my anger and resolve to get back at Dad, I'd accepted that fate. The blush of chastisement would fade quickly; however, I could not endure to be unforgivable.

Dad became even angrier when he saw my tears. He hoisted me from the desk by the seat of my pants and turned me around to face him. "I want you to dry those tears this instant! You know how I feel about that, Son. Don't you think you deserve to be punished?"

"I guess," I sobbed.

"All right, then, stop crying."

I tried to comply, but was unable to stop my tears.

"That was an order, Mister, and if you know what's good for you, you'll obey me."

"I'm trying, Dad, but I can't."

"Don't be ridiculous," he replied with great irritation. "Of course you can. You know I'm just gonna give your bottom a little sting. There's no need to blow it all out of proportion."

"I'm not crying about that."

"Then what in God's name are you crying about?"

I was now crying with such heartbreak that I could barely speak. "You're not ever gonna forgive me, Sir."

"What?"

I thought he didn't hear me, so I repeated, "You're not ever gonna forgive me."

Dad was silent for what seemed like forever, while I continued to sob. Finally, he sighed and sat down on the edge of the desk. He placed his folded belt on the desktop, rubbed his hands together a few times, and sighed again. "Come here, Ben. Come closer."

I approached until I stood just in front of him. I was ashamed to look him in the eye, so I looked straight ahead, weeping and watching him wring his hands as they lay in his lap. Suddenly, one of the hands disappeared and seconds later it was offering me a handkerchief.

"Here, Cadet, use this. Settle yourself down. That's an order."

He'd called me 'Cadet.' Not Ben or Benton or Son, but Cadet. He was playing our game with me. I dried my tears and blew my nose then stood at attention before my father, my sergeant.

"All right. That's better. Now, do you know what 'exaggeration' is, Cadet?" he asked me.

"No, Sir. Is it something I did, Sir?"

"No, it's something I did. When I said what you did was 'unforgivable,' I was exaggerating."

"Oh." I furrowed my brow and guessed, "Is it like yelling at someone, Sir?"

"No, no, no. Nothing like that. When you exaggerate, you are saying something you don't really mean."

"Like lying, Sir?"

"No, not like lying!" He was very frustrated for a moment, but quickly calmed himself down. I looked him in the eye intently as he continued his explanation. "Look at it this way. When I said 'unforgivable,' what I actually meant was, er, 'very wrong.' Do you see?"

"I guess. You can't forgive me 'cause what I did was very wrong, Sir?"

"Oh dear!" he lamented. "I do have a serious-minded Son, don't I?"

I looked up and saw him wrinkle his face in consternation. When he noticed my anxiety, he softened his expression and began to caress my shoulder.

"Okay, let's try something else," he said. "Um, let me see. Okay. Pay attention."

"Yes, Sir."

"Okay, I'm a lot bigger than you are, right?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Right. Now, if I were to say that I'm a billion times bigger than you, I would be exaggerating. Understand?"

I didn't really know precisely how much a billion was, but I knew it was a lot. I laughed as I tried to picture Dad being a billion times bigger than me. "You'd be a giant, Sir!"

"Yes, now you've got it." Dad seemed pleased by my laughter and he smiled back.

My mind raced as I tried to apply this concept to Dad's 'unforgivable' comment. "Does that mean some day you'll forgive me, Sir?"

Dad just looked at me for several seconds before responding. "Yes, it does."

"Understood, Sir."

Dad saw me eye his belt where it lay on the desktop, and he quickly glanced at it and then looked back at me. I was hoping we could just get the punishment over with, but Dad started to walk about the room with his arms folded in front of him, mumbling under his breath. I heard him say my mum's name a couple times, just as if she were right there with us and he was talking to her. At one point he uttered, almost as if against his will, "If anything had happened to you, Son, I don't know what I would've done."

"Yes, Sir," I mumbled in reply. It had only been about a year since my mum had died suddenly, so I imagine it was still on Dad's mind as much as it was on mine. "I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't think anything would happen."

"No? Well, what did you think? What could possibly have prompted you to do such a stupid thing?"

"I dunno, Sir."

"Yes, you do."

"But I'm not s'posed to make 'scuses, Dad. You and Grandma said so."

"I don't want you to justify what you did. I want you to tell me why you did it."

My young mind didn't comprehend the difference, but it did comprehend that my father was giving me an order and it would be wise for me to obey. "Oh," I answered, still hesitating to explain myself until I could think of a way to say it without sounding like a smart aleck.

Dad apparently sensed my uneasiness and he came over to me, lifted me, and stood me on top of the desk. "There. Now we're eye-to-eye, man-to-man. Let's hear it, Cadet."

He must've been some kind of genius. Not that I suddenly felt on a par with him just because we were standing at equal height, but I did believe that he honestly wanted me to level with him, and I felt that it was safe to do so.

"You said if I didn't wanna play with Julie, I could go home, Sir."

"Ha!" Dad burst out with spontaneous amusement. "Are you kidding me?"

"No, Sir. That's what you said."

"I know that's what I said, Ben, but I didn't mean it!" Dad was gesticulating and pacing as he spoke, and I wondered if I was actually convincing him that I'd taken him seriously.

"Oh. Were you 'zaggerating, Dad?" I had him over a barrel now. I was sure of it.

Dad gave me a searching stare, which seemed to change before my eyes into a conspiratorial smile. "Yes, I suppose you could say that."

"Oh."

Dad looked me in the eye and I looked him in the eye, and we both knew that I had not misunderstood him, but had acted deliberately. The only question was would Dad call me on it?

"You didn't really think I'd let you get away with this, did you, Son?" he asked in a gently reproving tone.

*Yup! He's gonna call me on it, all right!* "I guess not, Sir," I admitted quietly.

"Smart man."

We continued to look at each other in silence for a moment, as I anxiously awaited Dad's next move. Finally, I decided to give it to him straight.

"I didn't think you wanted me around."

Dad dropped his head in despair and put his hands on his hips. "That's not fair, Ben." He looked back up at me and I squirmed to see his annoyance. "I wasn't trying to get rid of you by sending you to play with Julie. I thought you'd enjoy having someone to play with. I know it's lonely for you at Grandma and Grandpa's."

*Can't you see that the person I'm lonely for is you?* I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs. Instead I said nothing.

"Do you remember what you said to me in the car, earlier today?"

"What, Sir?"

"You said you didn't want me to be mad at you."

"Uh huh. I 'member." But I was shocked that he remembered.

"Well, I could say the same to you, Ben."

*Then why don't you?* rang through my head. But I knew my dad wasn't up to uttering such words. So I guessed this was his way of apologizing and yelling at me all rolled into one. "Understood, Sir. I'm sorry I was naughty."

"Guess I can't blame you entirely. I was the one who left the keys in the truck." Dad gave me a nod and a friendly punch in the arm. What I really yearned for was to bury myself in his warm embrace, but I knew that wasn't gonna happen. That just wasn't Dad. So I smiled and punched him back -- as hard as I could.

"Hey, watch that, Cadet! There's rules against assaulting a superior officer, y'know!" he feigned sternness while clutching his newly-disabled arm. He gave me a sideways glance and added, "Well, I couldn't possibly do justice with that belt now. Er, Son, you may as well, if you wouldn't mind, would you just grab that for me?" he asked, nodding his head toward the desktop.

I reached down and grabbed the belt. Dad winked when he took it from me, and I had to restrain myself from throwing my arms around him and hugging him tightly as he fastened the belt around his waist. "What're you gonna do to me to punish me, Dad?"

"Nothing. I'm, er...nothing."

"You're lettin' me go, Sir? Even though I broke the law?"

Dad smiled and leaned in conspiratorially. "Don't tell anyone, eh, Cadet? If this got out, it'd ruin my credibility."

"Your what?"

"Nobody'd respect me anymore. I'd be the laughingstock of the RCMP."

"I respect you, Sir," I stated in all sincerity.

"You do, eh? You wouldn't kid your old man, would you?"

"No, um, maybe sometimes," I teased, and Dad poked me playfully in the ribs, bringing a smile to my face. I took his hand which had tickled me and shook it with a firm grasp.

Dad smiled and returned my handshake with an equally firm grasp. "Strong grip you got there, Cadet Fraser. That's the grip of a man who knows his mind. Er, just be careful that mind of yours doesn't get you in trouble, eh?"

"Okay, Sir. I'll be good."

"Yes, I expect you will. But, I'm afraid you're not completely off the hook. Buck might still want a piece of you. You'd better get your sorry butt out there and make amends."

"Huh?"

"Make up for what you did," he clarified.

"How can I do that, Dad?"

"I haven't the foggiest, Son. But you have to try. An apology might be a good place to start."

I nodded in agreement. I liked Buck. He was always nice to me. In fact, he was almost like a second father to me, considering I saw almost as much of him as I did of Dad. But to have to answer to two dads when I did wrong seemed cruel and unusual punishment!

Dad offered his hand and I took it and jumped to the floor. When we got as far as the door, Dad stopped, grabbed my shirt and leaned down to me and warned, "Let me make something crystal clear, Benton. If you ever, EVER, try something like this again, you won't sit for a week when I finish with ya! And, if I were you, I wouldn't test me on this one, 'cause you'll find out I'm not exaggerating!"

"Okay, Dad. I mean, understood, Sir."

We found Buck slouched, asleep, in the recliner in the living room. A book he'd apparently been reading had fallen to the floor beside him. I stood next to Buck, watching him sleep with his mouth wide open. After a while, I felt Dad give my ear a gentle tug and I looked up to face him.

"Well? Get on with it, Son. No sense putting it off."

"But he's asleep, Sir."

Dad put his hand on my shoulder and leaned over me to study Buck. "Ah, yes, so he is. Quite right. Well, perhaps you'd better wake him up."

"Won't he be mad if I do that?"

"Oh, he's a mad bugger already, Ben. I don't suppose you could possibly do him any harm."

I looked at Dad quizzically, and he laughed and tousled my hair.

"Go ahead, Son. You're not afraid, are you?"

"Uh-uh. No, Sir." I'd learned that with Dad it was more prudent to deny fear, even if that would be lying, than to admit that I was scared.

"Good man."

I moved closer to Buck and slowly reached out my hand and placed it on his arm. I didn't want to startle him, so I very gently pressed my hand into his arm and shook it back and forth. His body jumped and he snorted, but he didn't wake up.

"Go on. Give 'im a good tug," my dad egged me on, mimicking the action on his own arm.

I scrunched up my face and held my breath and pulled on Buck's arm, almost as if I would pull it out of its socket. Buck shot up in his seat, wide-eyed and grabbing his arm, and I backed away from him until I'd found a harbor against my father's body.

"What?" Buck asked, looking around until he saw us. "Oh. Well. Yes." He coughed nervously, then stood up. "I was beginning to wonder if you two got lost in there. Everything, um, er, settled?"

I nodded my head slightly and Dad patted my head and said "We, er, understand each other."

"Well, fine. Glad to hear it. Carry on, Cadet," Buck said and then turned to walk away.

"Um, Sir," I stammered, as Dad pushed me forward, closer to Buck.

"What is it, Cadet?"

"Um...it's your gate, Sir..."

"Hmm, not much of a gate anymore, is it?"

"No, Sir, it's not. I'm sorry. I guess I didn't see it."

"Yeah, well, it was old and worn, anyway."

Dad cleared his throat loudly in my direction, and I knew it was my cue. "I shouldn't a'been driving the car and I shouldn't a'let Julie help me," I stated.

"Darn tootin', Cadet!" Then Buck realized what I'd said. "Help you? Julie helped you?"

*Oh dear! I really put my foot in my mouth!* I had to think fast. "Um, yeah, you know. Like how my mum sometimes helped my dad when he was driving."

Dad and Buck gave each other knowing glances and said "Ah," simultaneously.

"Yes, well, then, no wonder you crashed the gate!" Buck leaned closer to me and advised, "You shoulda made her get out of the car first."

"Buck!" my dad shouted at him. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Huh? Oh...I see," Buck blushed in embarrassment. "Quite right. Quite right. You shoulda got out of the car as well, young Fraser."

"I know, Sir. I will next time. I promise."

"Fine, Benton. That's fine." Buck stared at me for a second then added, "You're dismissed, Cadet."

"That's it, Sir? You don't wanna yell at me any more?" In actuality, Buck hadn't even raised his voice to me. But, when a kid knows he's guilty of something, any words from a grown- up are considered yelling.

"Er, no, no. I'm, uh, finished yelling. You may go."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Benton, perhaps you'd better stick with me, eh?" Dad said.

"Yes, Sir, but..."

"But...?" Dad asked.

"Um...well...I could play with Julie if you want."

"Is that what you want?"

"I guess, yeah. If you'll let me, Sir," I turned to Buck to ask.

Buck smiled at me. "She's in her room. Run along."

"Yes, Sir." I smiled broadly and saluted first Buck then my dad before leaving the room.

So, I guess I have to admit that playing with Julie's doll house wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be. Mind you, it was never gonna be my first choice of a toy, but we had quite a lot of fun with our game of make-believe. And Julie was especially pleased to not have to be the voices for all the dolls, for once.

We played until dinnertime, and then after dinner we sat on the floor by the fire and listened to our dads tell stories of their adventures together. Julie leaned against me as she began to nod off, so I guided her head onto my lap. Although feeling her in such intimate contact with me brought back memories from earlier that day which I would have preferred to forget, I couldn't help but feel that she belonged there in my lap, as if she were now a part of me.

I caressed Julie's arm as I watched her sleeping, and the steady, slow rhythm of her breathing, along with the voices of Dad and Buck, had a hypnotic effect on me until I, too, was fast asleep, with my head propped against my dad's legs as he sat in his chair. I was brought back to a semi-conscious state when Buck picked up Julie and Dad moved me to my bedroll by the hearth.

"No, Daddy! I wanna sleep in here with Ben," I heard Julie whine as her father started to carry her to her room.

"You'll be much more comfortable in your own bed, sweetie," Buck answered her.

"Please, Daddy! I'll go right to sleep, I promise."

"Oh, let 'em have an adventure, Buck," Dad urged him. "I'll be right here on the couch." Seconds later, Dad was whispering "Scooch over, Son," and gently moving me over to make room for Julie.

As my new friend settled in next to me and I felt the warmth of her body and inhaled her breath, I was filled with an overwhelming sense of well-being and security that I hadn't felt since my younger days when I used to crawl into bed with my mum after waking from a nightmare. Buck pulled the blanket snugly over both of us and I heard him kiss his daughter good night. I ached for such a sign of affection, but, of course, that wasn't up to Buck. Instead, he ran his hand through my hair and patted my head. I was almost immediately back into a deep sleep.

Dad and Buck were discussing Mountie business the next morning, as we stood outside the truck, preparing to leave. Julie had tears in her eyes as we said good-bye, but I, of course, put up a brave front and refused to show her that I was going to miss her as much as she was going to miss me.

"Jump in, Ben," Dad said as we were finally ready to leave.

I started to get into the car, but Julie grabbed my hand to stop me. She wrapped her arms tightly around me, then looked at my face and, without warning, planted a big kiss, smack on my lips, knocking the Stetson off of my head. I was flabbergasted and didn't know how to respond, so I did the only thing I could think of -- placed my lips gently on hers and returned the affection. It was quite nice, but I think I must have lingered a little too long as suddenly Buck was pulling me away from her by the seat of my pants.

"All right, Cadet," he said as he placed my Stetson back on my head. "I think that should about do it."

"Yes, Sir. 'Bye, Julie." I smiled shyly at her.

"'Bye, Ben. I'm glad you could come play with me."

I nodded, then felt my dad nudge me. He greeted me with a knowing grin as he motioned for me to get into the car. As I did, I heard Buck warn my dad, "You'd better keep a close eye on that one, Bob. He's gonna break some hearts."

"Naturally," Dad answered proudly as he got into the car and sat beside me. "He's a chip off the old block!"

The long drive home was made even longer because Dad decided to take a little side trip. He wouldn't tell me where we were going, just that he had a surprise for me. When we pulled up at the remote RCMP Post, I grabbed my hat off the dash and jumped out of the car excitedly. Even though he hadn't told me where we were, I recognized it right away from Dad's descriptions of these places during his endless tales of life as a Mountie.

It was a very modest building, little more than a small, wooden shack. We went inside and were greeted with pleasant surprise by the one Constable who was responsible for maintaining that post as well as the law in the surrounding area. I think he was very glad for the company because he seemed as eager to show me around the place as I was to be shown around.

The interior of the building was as plain as the outside, but I was fascinated by the equipment that filled it. There was an assortment of guns and ammunition, a bulletin board that sported several "WANTED" posters and other official-looking documents, a big map of the country with colored pins stuck in it at various locations, and, best of all, the coolest radio I'd ever seen. The entire time we were there, voices were constantly coming on, introduced and followed by loud static, with information and requests for information. Once or twice, the Constable excused himself from us and responded to these calls. My eyes followed his every move as he lifted the transmitter and expertly worked the various knobs and switches.

Dad noticed my fascination with the radio, so later on, after the Constable had given me a thorough tour of the place, he took me behind the desk for a closer look at it. He pointed out all the features and explained their functions and then, much to my great amazement, offered me the controls and asked who I'd like to call.

"I don't know anybody," I answered, wishing I did because I couldn't imagine anything more fun at that moment than being the staticky voice emanating from any number of RCMP radios across the country.

"Nonsense," Dad said and handed me the transmitter as he manipulated the controls on the panel. "Okay, Son. Speak into there."

"What should I say?"

"Oh, right...say 'RCMP Inuvik Satellite calling Tuktoyaktuk. Come in Tuktoyaktuk. Over.'"

"Who's that, Dad?" I was curious to know before placing my call.

"You'll see. Go ahead. Say what I told you."

With a little extra prompting, I recited my father's words into the transmitter, then we all waited for a response. Just as I was wondering if I had done it wrong, the tell-tale static of an incoming signal sounded from the speaker, followed by a voice that seemed strangely familiar.

"This is Tuktoyaktuk responding. Come back Inuvik Satellite. Over."

"Dad, it sounds like Buck!"

"That's because it is Buck."

I did know somebody after all! "I thought it was s'posed to be somebody different? Tukyuktac?"

"Say something else, Ben. He's waiting for you," Dad urged me with a laugh.

I panicked momentarily, unsure what I was supposed to do now that Buck had answered my call.

"Go ahead, Ben. Say anything. He can hear you now."

My mind raced as I tried to think of something important to say, something that would justify the use of such a large, complicated piece of equipment.

"Identify yourself. Tell him who you are. That's always a good place to start," Dad advised.

"Um, hello, Sir. This is Ben--I mean, Cadet Benton Fraser. My fath--um, Sergeant Fraser ordered me to call you, Sir."

"You have to say 'Fraser over,' Son, so he knows you're finished transmitting."

"Oh, okay, um...Fraser over." I looked at my dad and grinned. This was the most exciting thing I'd ever done in all my seven years.

"Ah, Cadet, yes, I've been expecting to hear from you. There's someone here who would like to speak to you."

I waited anxiously as the radio fell silent, wondering who the heck would want to talk to me. Seconds later, a new voice came over the speaker. My heart leapt when I realized it was Julie's voice.

"Hi, Ben."

"Well? Answer her, Ben!" my dad urged me when I failed to respond after several seconds.

"She didn't say 'over.'"

Dad chuckled, but before he could say anything, Julie spoke again.

"Ben? Are you there?"

I looked at Dad, and he motioned for me to reply, so I did. "Hi, Julie. This is Cadet Benton Fraser." I started to move the transmitter away from my mouth to wait for her response, but then I remembered and added, "...Over."

"I know it's you, silly!"

I smiled to myself and blushed slightly at her teasing. Now this was definitely more fun than playing with dolls! We talked for a couple minutes about this and that. I don't remember exactly what we said because I was just too elated to take in such details. Until...

"You wanna be my boyfriend, Ben?"

I was speechless. I looked to my dad and asked "Can I, Dad?"

"Er, well, you, uh, want a girlfriend?"

I shrugged and said, "Sure, I guess."

"Well, then..." He said no more.

I was just about to speak into the transmitter when a sobering thought struck. "Um, Dad?"

"Yeah, Son?"

"How many people are hearing us talk over the radio?" I was kind of put off by the possibility of Mounties all over the country knowing about my love life.

Dad smiled. "Just us and, er, Julie and her father."

"Oh. Good."

I ran into the house eager to tell my grandma all about my adventure with Dad. I found her in the kitchen preparing dinner and began blithering as fast as I could get the words out.

"Whoa, there, honey!" Grandma stopped me with a laugh. "Don't I get a hello kiss first?"

I threw my arms around Grandma's neck and she squeezed me tight and kissed both cheeks. "Well, now, did you mind your father like a good boy while you were away?"

I was taken aback by this question and turned to look at Dad. After all, it hadn't all been smooth sailing, had it?

"Of course he did. Did everything I told him...and more. Eh, Son?"

I didn't say anything at first, but then Dad threw me a big wink and my face relaxed into a broad smile. "Uh huh."

"I'm glad you had a good time, honey."

"Oh, Grandma! Dad took me to the RMPC..."

"RCMP, Son."

"Right. The RCMP Station, and I got to go inside the cell and I looked at all the guns - but I didn't touch 'em, Grandma..." I was careful to point out, "...and I saw where the Mountie sleeps and cooks his food and takes a bath and, oh, Grandma, I got to talk on the radio!"

"Really? Well, that must've been exciting!"

"Oh, it was! We called Buck over at a different station and I told him I was Cadet Benton Fraser calling and then...oh, and guess what, Grandma?"

"What, dear?"

"I got a girlfriend!"

Grandma gave me a queer expression then turned her gaze to my dad. "Aren't you a little young for a girlfriend, Ben?" she asked me while looking at Dad.

"Dad said I could. I asked him first."

"Oh, I see," she said, glaring at Dad.

"Now, Mother, relax. It's harmless."

"Uh huh..."

"She's a girl. She's his friend."

"Uh huh..."

"She's Buck's daughter, Julie. They played together at the Frobisher's."

"Yeah, Grandma. I even played with her doll house, so I'd be polite like you want me to."

"See? Harmless."

"And after supper, Dad and Buck told us stories and we fell asleep on my bedroll and when me and Dad left today she gave me a kiss right here," I put my finger to my lips, "...and I gave her one back. And then--"

Dad cupped his hand over my mouth and laughed nervously. "Er, Son, a man of honor doesn't kiss and tell, eh?"

I looked up at him and nodded, and he removed his hand from my mouth. "Sorry." I felt kind of sorry for Dad because of the way Grandma was questioning him. I'd been there myself once or twice, and it was definitely enough to ruin an otherwise perfectly good day.

"I think perhaps I should meet this friend of Ben's," Grandma said.

"Certainly. No problem," Dad agreed.

"Can she come visit, Dad? Can she?" I pleaded.

"You'll have to ask your grandmother about that, Son. As well as Julie's parents."

"Oh, Grandma, please!" I begged, grasping the pleats of her skirt between my fingers. "Please say 'yes'! We could have a sleep-over in front of the fireplace, just like we did at her house."

Grandma loosened my grip on her skirt and held my hand in hers. "Um, no, honey. Julie may come visit if it's okay with her parents, but if she does, you will offer her your bed and you can sleep on the couch. All right?"

I was too excited for words! I embraced Grandma's legs and buried my face in her skirt. "Thanks, Grandma!"

Dad stayed home for about a week and we spent that time getting reacquainted. He and Grandpa and I went fishing almost every day and we stocked the freezer with enough fish to feed us for at least the next month. Dad took me into the woods and tried to teach me a little about tracking a suspect, but when I invariably lost the trail, he'd end up leaving bigger and bigger tracks until I triumphantly snagged my prey. By the end of the week, Dad had made me believe I was truly ready for the Academy.

That week sticks in my mind now as a good-bye of sorts. I don't think we spent that much time together at one time during the rest of my childhood. It was usually just a day here and a day there, and, even when he did come home for any length of time, we acted more like strangers with each other than friends. I suppose that was as much my fault as his because I resisted getting too close to him. That took a good deal of the sting out of Dad's eventual departures.

On the morning Dad was to leave to return to his duties, I awoke with a deep melancholy and a pain as if I'd just been kicked in the gut. But I knew Dad would be very irritated with me if I showed how I was feeling, so I got out of bed and washed up, put on my good clothes and shoes, brushed my hair, and went out to the kitchen, carrying my Stetson at my side. This was my improvised Mountie dress uniform.

"Cadet Benton Fraser reporting, Sir." I stood at attention and saluted my dad as he sat at the kitchen table with Grandma and Grandpa. Dad stood up and answered my salute, and I was so glad we had this game to play. Otherwise, I think I would have burst into tears when I saw him and knew he was going to be leaving within the hour.

All eyes in the room were on me as Dad circled me, making a thorough inspection. He gave a little tug to the hem of my blazer to ensure it hung straight, then he stepped back and stroked his chin while taking in the whole picture. At last, he gave a little hum and a nod and pronounced, "Very nice, Cadet. Excellent. Ship shape."

I couldn't hide my pleasure at hearing this and I smiled as I let out a slight sigh and my body relaxed just a little. "Thank you, Sir."

Dad took the Stetson from my hand and placed it carefully on the counter and then led me to the table. "Sit down, Cadet. Your breakfast is ready." I sat as Dad went over to the stove to prepare my plate. Grandma and Grandpa both smiled at me, and I forced myself to smile back. "I fixed you your favorite," Dad announced. "Pancakes and sausage."

"Yes, Sir!" I answered with forced enthusiasm. It was true; that was my favorite breakfast. Ever since Dad had introduced me to the joy of rolling the pancake around the sausage link and eating it like a sandwich. But I wasn't sure I was going to be able to eat anything on that particular morning. I doubted I would enjoy it, at any rate.

Dad placed my plate before me and sat back down to his own meal. "Go ahead, Cadet," he said when he noticed I hadn't made a move. "It'll get cold if you let it sit there. Clean your plate and make me proud."

That was all I needed to hear. I'd have done anything to make my dad proud of me. So, I made my little pigs-in-a-blanket and swallowed them without a thought to savoring their taste.

"Good-bye, Sir," I said without emotion as I offered a handshake to my dad. The time had come. Buck had arrived, and he and Dad were on their way out the door and heaven only knew when I'd see my father again. Nevertheless, I looked Dad in the eye and extended my hand and refused to allow a hint of sadness to show in my manner.

Dad grasped my hand firmly and gave me a friendly squeeze on my shoulder with his other hand. "Good-bye, Son." He winked and smiled, but I was unable to respond in kind. I was afraid if I attempted to force a smile, I would lose my composure. "I'll, er, come home when I can. You behave yourself in the meantime, eh?"

"Yes, Sir, I will." As I looked at Dad, I could've sworn for a moment that he wanted to take me in his arms and embrace me, and I wished that, just this once, he would. But the next thing I knew, he and Buck were in the truck and I was watching them from the doorway as they drove out of sight.

"Come inside, honey," Grandma whispered sweetly into my ear as she hugged me from behind. "Your visitor is waiting for you."

"Grandma..."

"What is it, sweetie?"

"Nothin'." I was going to ask when Dad would be home. Not that I thought Grandma would be able to answer that question, but I felt a need to let someone know how much I missed him already. But I judged that Grandma knew how I was feeling because of the way she was squeezing me and the tender kiss she had placed upon my ear. I turned to face my grandmother and she smiled and took my hand and we went into the house.

The day was still salvageable. Buck had brought Julie with him when he came for Dad, and she was going to spend the week with me. It was very rare that I ever had a playmate my own age, and Julie was so much more than that. I could talk to her about the emptiness I felt every time my dad abandoned me and she would understand, because her father probably wasn't at home any more than mine. And, on top of that...she was my girlfriend. She made me feel so grown up. More so even than my dad's constant insistence that I was a man.

I ran over to Julie and greeted her properly by flinging my arms around her and treating myself to another touch of her lips, just as I'd seen the older kids in the village do whenever my grandparents took me with them on their errands. Suddenly, in mid-kiss, I felt a pull at my ear and turned to discover my grandmother firmly, although not harshly, re-directing my attentions.

"Honey, I'm afraid that is improper behavior for a young man of your age." She was now caressing my ear between her fingers.

"It is?" *Darn! I wish these adults would decide if I'm a grown-up man or not!* I thought to myself. *I mean, Dad didn't yell at me when I kissed her before.* "But I thought boyfriends and girlfriends were s'posed to kiss?"

Grandma crouched to our level and put one arm around me and the other around Julie. "I'm very pleased that you two are so fond of each other, but you are children, and children don't--" She cut herself off and struggled for what she wanted to say. "Boyfriends and girlfriends your age kiss each other on the cheek. Okay?"

"Okay, Grandma," I replied. I knew a kiss on the cheek would pale in comparison, but I had to obey my grandmother. At least when she was watching. So, I leaned in to Julie and buried my lips in her cheek with a loud smack. If it wasn't gonna be as much fun as a kiss on the lips, at least it was gonna be done with feeling. "Like that, you mean, Grandma?"

Grandma took my chin in her hand and ran her thumb across my lips then pinched my cheek. "Yes, dear, and I think that'll do for now," she said with a note of warning in her voice as she stood back up. Grandma would usually overlook a little cheekiness, provided I didn't go overboard, so I took her warning to heart. "Run along and play, or, if you prefer, I'm sure I can find something to keep you busy."

*Ugh! No! Not that! There must be something we can do!* I was sure that if we didn't find something to do on our own, Grandma would sit us down with a couple books from the library and make us study. And that was not my idea of a good time with my new girlfriend! But, I didn't have any toys...

"Oh, Mrs. Fraser, I forgot. My daddy gave me this to give to Ben." Julie fetched a box with a red ribbon tied around it from the corner table.

"Well, dear, I guess you'd better give it to him, then, eh?" Grandma smiled at her.

Julie handed me the box and I just stood there, holding it in my hands. "For me? What is it?" I couldn't imagine.

"It's a present, silly! What d'ya think?"

"How come? It's not my birthday or even Christmas or anything."

"Open it, honey," Grandma coaxed. "Don't keep us in suspense."

The box was rather heavy so I set it on the floor and knelt beside it. I was pretty sure it wasn't a book. The shape of the box was all wrong for a book, as was the weight distribution of the contents. With great curiosity, I broke the ribbon and lifted the top off the box, and when I saw what was inside, I let out the loudest, longest, most enthusiastic "Wow!" humanly possible.

"What is it, dear?" Grandma asked, as she peered down into the box.

"Oh, my gosh! Look, Grandma!" I lifted the box and held it up for her to see. "Walkie- talkies! Real walkie-talkies!" And they were real, too. They weren't toys. "Do I really get to keep 'em, Grandma? Huh?"

"Yes, it would appear so, honey. Ah, there's a note," Grandma said as she lifted it out of the box.

"Could you read it to me, please, Grandma?" I was dying to know how I'd come into such great fortune.

"Certainly, Ben." She cleared her throat and began while I stared at her and listened intently. 'Dear Ben - forgive me, I meant to say Cadet Fraser - The RCMP has very generously supplied us with some brand new equipment. These walkie-talkies were used by your father and myself for several years and, due to our meticulous care of them, are still in perfect working order. Rather than toss them into some storage cupboard where they'd die a slow death from misuse, I thought you might be able to give them a good home where they would be well looked- after. I'm sure your grandmother would be very pleased to have you share them with your friends - as would I. Enjoy. With affection, Your friend, Duncan "Buck" Frobisher, RCMP.'"

I'd never received a letter like that before. Not even from my own father. I was touched, to say the least. He'd called me his friend. 'With affection' he'd said. I stood up, leaving the box on the floor, and went over to Grandma. "Can I see?" I asked, holding out my hand for the letter.

"Of course you may," she answered, always taking the opportunity to correct my grammar. "It's your letter, dear."

I looked over the handwritten note, reading the parts I could and recalling the rest of it in my mind. I resolved to learn every last word in this letter. "Will you help me read it, Grandma?"

"Later, honey," she said. "And I'll also help you write a nice thank-you to Mr. Frobisher."

"Thanks, Grandma."

"You're very welcome. But right now, why don't you entertain your guest, okay?"

"Can we go outside and play with the walkie-talkies?"

"Yes, you may. But don't wander off too far."

"Cool!" I grabbed the walkie-talkies from the box and motioned for Julie to follow me as I ran toward the door. "Come on, Julie! Let's go play Secret Spy!"

"Whoa there, little spy!" Grandma snatched me by the arm. "You're not going anywhere in those good clothes. You go change first and then you may go outside to play."

"Oh, 'kay." I handed Julie the walkie-talkies and said, "Be right back." Then I ran to my room and made the quickest uniform change in history. A little too quick, in fact, because I got an earful from Grandma later on about my failure to properly put away my good clothes after taking them off.

As Julie and I were about to go out the door, I suddenly had a thought, so I ran to the kitchen and retrieved my Stetson from the counter. As I met Julie again at the door, I placed the hat on her head and looked at her and smiled.

"But my dad said I wasn't s'posed to wear--"

"Shhh," I put my finger to my mouth and hushed her. "It's pretty on ya."

That night, Grandma and I tucked Julie into my bed.

"You know, Grandma, there's enough room for both of us in my bed if we squeeze together." I was not looking forward to being parted from my soul-mate, even for a few hours.

"No, Benton. I already told you what the sleeping arrangements would be, did I not?"

"Uh huh."

"All right, then. No arguments. We'll make you comfortable on the sofa."

I nodded in compliance. I knew Grandma's word was final. "Good night, Julie," I said, placing a hand on top of the blankets that covered her.

"'Night, Ben. Today was fun. I'm glad you asked me to come."

"Me, too." I smiled shyly at her until my grandmother put her hand on my head and tousled my hair to get my attention.

"Let's go, sweetie. It's way past your bedtime."

"Can I kiss her good night?"

"You may give her a quick kiss on the cheek, then I want you into bed with no more stalling."

I crawled up onto the bed and kissed her, and as I was backing off the bed Julie said "Wait, Ben. I hafta kiss you g'night, too." So, without asking Grandma's permission, I smiled and crawled back to her and offered my cheek. I hovered there beside her, on my hands and knees, holding my hand to the spot she had kissed. "G'night Benny. I love you."

"That's what my mum called me," I said aloud without realizing it. I was taken aback at first, but then a happiness overtook me such as I had not felt...well, since before Mum's death. "I love you, too," I replied with a shy grin. Then I felt Grandma grab hold of the seat of my pajama bottoms and pull me off the bed. As my feet touched down on the floor, she released her grip and applied a light pat to my bottom, then took my hand and led me out of the room.

I couldn't sleep. Even though Grandma and Grandpa were in the room with me, reading, I couldn't shake a feeling of loneliness. I'd become very used to having Dad around during that past week, and now that he was gone, the house seemed empty. I knew that if I could just be in the same room as Julie, I'd find enough comfort to allow me to sleep.

I pretended to be asleep until, eventually, my grandparents went to bed. After waiting a few minutes, I got off the couch and crept as quietly as I could into my bedroom. Julie was sound asleep and looked like an angel. I leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips, relishing the touch of her warm breath on my face. I was so in need of human contact that I was tempted to lie down next to her, but I feared severe retribution would follow when Grandma discovered us the next morning. Instead, I spread my bedroll on the floor beside the bed, lay down and closed my eyes, and quickly fell to sleep.

Grandma was up at dawn as usual and I awoke briefly when she covered me with the blanket she had retrieved from the couch. I opened my eyes as she brushed my hair off my face with her fingers, and then she kissed my forehead and told me to go back to sleep. I was surprised that Grandma hadn't insisted on my returning to the sofa, but I resigned myself to hearing of her displeasure with me later in the day.

I didn't, however. I received no reprimand at all. The only mention Grandma made of the nighttime incident was to ask me if I found it easier to sleep on the floor of my bedroom than on the sofa in the living room. I responded, "Yes," and that was the end of it. That was where I slept for the remainder of Julie's visit.

After Grandma put us to bed at night, we'd take turns telling stories in the dark until we slept. One of my stories frightened Julie to the point that I had no choice but to get in bed beside her and comfort her until she fell asleep. Truth be told, the story had disturbed me a bit, too, and I had been equally in need of company. I was careful not to drift off next to her, however, and eventually I returned to my bedroll and slept soundly.

THE END

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