We Walk Between The Worlds Part IV

[paulacas]

Title: We Walk Between The Worlds Part IV
Author: YanzaDracan
Artist: Tiggeratl1
Fandom: KANE RPS Historical AU
Rating: R
Warning: Implied non-con, torture and adult situations
Word Count: 7,441/44,486
Summary: When highway men leave a Donna Ackles pregnant and widowed, she stumbles onto a band of Cherokee. Adopted into the tribe and married to one of their healers, she begins a new life. Life is good for Jensen 'Crow Fox' Ackles and his family until the passing of the Indian Removal Act and the Trail Where We Cried.

Feeling Christian's muscles bunch, Jensen released his hold and rolled away from Christian. Without a word he was out of the tent before the other men could protest.

He'd kicked up the fire and set water to heat by the time the older men got themselves sorted out. By the time Steven and Christian made it out of the tent, Jensen was headed toward the animals.

Having taken a quick inventory of their supplies while he prepared breakfast, Christian looked up from the pack horse's panniers and announced that they'd need to find a town or trading post in the next ten days to re-supply.

Jensen gave a curt nod before turning back to finish currying the dried sweat and dirt from the coats of the horses. He stole glances at Christian and Steven from over the horses backs. The dark haired man made no protest over Steven's casual touches and inserting himself into Christian's personal space.

%%%%%

February had given was to March before they came across a trading post. According to the maps Steven and Christian carried, they were riding across Comancheria heading toward No Man's Land. The kept the animals close, and their weapons closer, setting watches at night.

Their timing was perfect as the supply wagons had arrived the day before and the teamsters had not yet departed for their next delivery. Steve prepared a package for his employers, Christian saw to their supplies while Jensen looked after the animals.

They were able to coax Jensen inside long enough to enjoy the supper the owner's wife had prepared, but as soon as he finished he was back out the door.

"Injun raised?" One of the teamsters asked.

Steven nodded not wanting to say too much.

"Must have got 'im young." The other chimed in.

"Why so?" Steven asked.

"He's more comfortable bein' red than white. Probably won't git no better."

Steven was shocked by the teamster's words. Did Jensen have an ulterior motive to bringing Christian into their relationship? He reined his thoughts to a stop. Christian had a vision of them just like Jensen's. Surely the Fates, Spirits or whoever ran the universe wouldn't be so kind and cruel at the same time.

Both men were perfect in their own way. Jensen-beautiful, intelligent, raised with few taboos and even fewer inhibitions. Compassionate to the bone, but practical and realistic. He was the perfect combination of both wild and civilized.

Christian-ruggedly handsome, college educated, smart, brash, uncaring of the opinion of others, soft hearted and hard headed. Steven could argue any subject with him, but Christian can also relate to Jensen in a way Steven never can.

Steven knew he would one day go east if only to visit the offices of his employer. He had naturally assumed Jensen and Christian would travel with him. Now a few simple words had filled his head with doubt.

"Steven!"

The blond jerked his head up at Christian's sharp tone.

"What?"

"Where did you go? I've been talkin' you for past few minutes."

"Sorry. I was just thinking about what that older fellow said."

"You mean about Jensen adjusting to life outside the tribe?"

Steven nodded.

"Don't borrow trouble, Steven. It's not something that'll change overnight. Hell, it's hard to tell how long 'til we even see proper civilization again. We don't know where we're heading other than following wherever Jensen leads. I've lived in this part of the country most of my life, but I have a feeling we're going to need all our skills to get through wherever he's taking us."

%%%%%

Jensen was wrapped in his bedroll burrowed into a pile of hay near Strong Heart's stall. He knew his behavior was confusing Steven-knew the writer was trying to understand how he could have feelings for both Jensen and Christian. How he could love them the same, but different?

Every night his sleep was marred by dreams sent by their spirit guides-his white stallion, Steven's lynx, and Christian's black wolf. He needed to get the three of them together before they got to the end of this trip. This was only the first step in their journey, and they would be each other's strength and weakness.

They were back on the road at dawn. Jensen and talked to the teamsters yesterday as he helped them with their teams about the best way to get to their destination. He committed to memory their directions though a wagon road across the prairie should be easy enough to find. They would be assured of good water, and it would keep them clear of the worse of the fighting between the tribes further west.

They traveled at a steady pace, but one that wasn't too wearing on the horses. Jensen and Steven continued to draw Christian to them. As the weather warmed, they would have a care with Christian's sensibilities and steal away from camp to make love.

The brunette would blush and refuse to make eye contact, but his awareness of what they had been doing was written in his restlessness and the amount of time it would take him to settle after they came back to camp exchanging glances, smiles and touches that seemed a foreign language to Christian.

%%%%%

A spring downpour caused them to make an early camp to dry out. While Steven and Christian worked to get their clothes and coat dry, Jensen stripped to a breech clout and leggings. Several hours later, he returned to camp blood streaked, dragging a pronghorn.

Hanging it from a nearby cottonwood limb, Jensen skinned the antelope while Christian had Steven help him put together tree limbs lashed together with strips of leather to make a drying rack. By the time Jensen was ready to cut up the meat for drying, the rack was ready.

Realizing they were going to be camped for a day or two, Steven finally relaxed. Christian was occupied with spitting chunks of the antelope that looked enough to feed an army while Jensen scoured the stream bank and surrounding area for spring plants to add variety to their diet. The writer gathered his materials and settled himself against a sun warmed rock to catch up his writing.

A shiver startled Steven out of a doze. Blinking he found the sun had moved around to where he was now sitting in the shade of the rock. Looking down at his journal he saw he had gotten a good bit written before he drifted off to sleep. Glancing around the campsite he took in the air of confrontation between Christian and Jensen as their hands and fingers darted into different shapes and signs. Steven recognized some of the words of Hand Talk that many of the Cherokee had used to talk among themselves when they didn't want anyone to overhear. He watched for several minutes before Jensen threw his hands in the air and stalked off toward the picket line.

Steven could have sworn he hadn't moved, but blue/grey eyes snapped to where he was sitting as though Christian was aware he was awake.

"You can quit pretendin' you're still asleep." Christian snapped.

Steven stood and brushed off the back of his pants and replaced his journal in his saddlebags.

Pushing his hands through his long hair, Christian sighed.

"How much of that did you see?"

"Not enough to understand what was going on between you two. I understood your body language more than the sign. Sadly I have been a poor student though Jensen tried to teach me as a distraction on the trek from Tennessee."Steven grinned. "Jensen is usually slow to anger…"

He let the sentence hang hoping Christian would volunteer what they had been arguing about. His hope was dashed.

"Country mouse and city mouse." Christian quipped as he turned back the rotating the spit so their supper didn't burn.

There was no way he was telling Steven they were arguing over the validity of visions and following the will of Spirit versus going your own way. The argument showed Christian the powerful medicine that was lived inside Jensen. That it sparked his own medicine and brought forth the heritage of his blood scared Christian to the bottom of his soul.

Steven watched the rapid succession of expressions that passed over Christian's face. The argument had somehow struck Christian at his most basic levels. He hoped it would not cause him to run for Steven had developed feelings for the dark-haired man that rivaled what he felt for Jensen, and he prayed that it would not lead him down the path of heartbreak.

%%%%%

A few days later they were back on the trail, they food stores supplemented nicely with the dried antelope. The hide, horns, hooves and anything else Jensen could salvage in such a short time secured on the horse.

Though they were moving north, the rains had finally turned warm, the new growth of spring giving the animals plenty to eat, and lifting the men's spirits. Jensen and Strong Heart were finally back to full strength, and Christian had finally given in to his curiosity and his feelings for Steven and Jensen, no longer pulling away when they drew him to them.

According to Steven's makeshift calendar, it was the second week of April. They had left behind the Cimarron River still moving to the northwest. Watering holes seemed few and far between, but Jensen or Christian always seemed to find one by time to make camp each night.

This had to be the happiest time in Steven's life. He had not only one, but two men who were in love with him. They were travelling through primordial wilderness where they didn't have to hide from the censure of others. They only people they saw were at an occasional trading post. The few Indians they saw avoided them as readily they avoided the Indians.

It was with a sigh of relief that the river on his map finally appeared. Maps of the area were sketchy in their details. Jensen had been adding details to his map as they travelled. It turned out Jensen was an incredibly talented artist. The pictures he drew to correspond with Steven's articles were so lifelike he expected the figures to walk off the page.

They took a couple days once they reached the Arkansas River to wash themselves and their clothes. Christian pulled out his farrier's tools to reset the horses' shoes. Their last night in camp, stuttering shyly, Christian asked them to make love to him.

%%%%%

The next morning dawn was just breaking as muscles overstretched and overused complained at the movement. Steven woke pinned between Jensen and Christian. He knew Jensen practically slept with one eye open so he was careful not to move as he lay contemplating the two men wrapped around him.

Steven's thoughts had continued to turn inward as they rode. He knew why he was following Jensen, but why was Christian?

Until six weeks ago they had never met. Jensen and Steven were figures from a fourteen year-old's vision quest, but without so much as a 'by your leave' he'd followed them into the wilderness and become their lover.

The chuckle in Steven's mind sounded slightly warped, but the whole scenario was more than a little bent. A year ago he was bemoaning ever finding someone to love without leaving the land of his birth. A year later he was sitting in the middle of everywhere with not one but two men who loved him.

They broke over the top of a rise, Jensen signaling a stop. With all his woolgathering, Steven hadn't realized they'd been riding steadily up hill.

Loosening the girths on their saddles they pulled strips of dried meat and hard tack from their saddlebags taking the chance to eat while the horses cooled down and caught their breath.

While they ate Jensen sketched out what he could see in all directions. Christian checked the pack horse's load and all their hooves before sitting on his haunches next to Steven. He blushed and letting out a deep breath he started speaking quietly.

"I really expected when I woke up this mornin' for things to be awkward and uncomfortable." He peeked at Steven through the screen of his lashes. "Except for the kisses and exchanges of affection it was like any other mornin'. " His blush deepened. "There were the abused muscles and the marks of passion as reminders…" His tone was coy.

Steven chuckled warmly as he sipped from his canteen.

"I too am amazed at how after a rocky beginning we have come together like pieces of a puzzle." His expression turned serious. "This trip…us…" Steve gripped Christian's hand, "has been a godsend. Our nightmares have lessened greatly. Jensen no longer worries at his scars. I don't know what blessings or madness brought us together, but I for one wish to never see it end."

"I know what you mean. I'd resigned myself to never leaving Tellasi though I looked for the both of you with each new face." Christian shook his head. "Whatever this is, I would not go back."

They sat content until growled Cherokee drew their attention to Jensen. The younger man had dozed leaning against Strong Heart's front leg. Christian's stallion had become curious about the ornaments in Jensen's hair. He lowered his head and used his agile upper lip to maneuver one of the small braids between his teeth and tugged. Jensen had startled awake and was scolding the unrepentant horse in Cherokee while Steven and Christian tried not to laugh out loud. Stormy green eyes turned in their direction as the scolding tone now included them.

%%%%%

Christian was settling the horses while Steven cooked and Jensen scoured the prairie for burnable material. He returned with a combination of dead wood and buffalo chips. Steven curled his nose.

"You would rather have a cold camp?" Jensen arched an eyebrow at the writer.

"I see your point."

Steven watched the healer as he arranged the fuel by the fire pit. He'd wanted a private word with Jensen, but the more he tried, the more it seemed they were never alone. He saw Christian still with the horses so he stopped Jensen with a touch.

"Jensen?" Steven kept his voice low.

When Jensen looked up, the green eyes were warm and relaxed.

"We've been traveling for six weeks-always moving northwest. Where are we going?"

Jensen rummaged through his ever present pouch pulling out his sketch pad. He turned a few pages and handed it to Steven.

"Here. We are going here to meet this man."

Steven looked at a drawing of a foot with lodges of the plains Indians outside the walls. A tall thin man stood at the gate. The picture was so detailed, Steven expected the people to move. He was startled out of his wonderment by Christian.

"Whatcha got?" He looked over Steven's shoulder. "That's incredible. Where is it?"

Jensen ducked his head and shrugged. "I do not know. I draw what appears in my dreams."

%%%%%

They progressed steadily across the prairie, the landscape becoming more rugged as they moved toward the mountains. There was an underlying nervousness about finding the fort, but they didn't let it overshadow their deepening relationship. Christian had relaxed and the softer side of his personality began to shine through. Never one to expend a lot of words to express himself, Jensen and Steven learned to read his touches and the expressive face and changeable eyes-just as he learned to read them.

The calendar had moved into April, but at the higher elevation, the air still carried winter's icy touch. As they snuggled together in the combined bedrolls, Christian asked the question on everyone's mind.

"What happens when we find this fort?"

Tugging Christian back against his chest, Jensen told them his dreams.

%%%%%

Christian and Steve had begun to despair finding Jensen's fort and were quietly discussing different scenarios if there was no fort while Jensen scouted out ahead. When Jensen disappeared from sight longer than normal, they kicked their horses into a trot to catch up.

Topping the small hill they reined their horses to a stop. Lying before them in the shallow river valley was an adobe stockade flying an American flag. When they crossed the river, Jensen was stopped inside the tree line.

"Jensen?" Steven and Christian turned back confused.

"I'll set camp." He said quietly still staring at the fort.

"But…" Christian started to argue until Steven rested a hand on his arm.

"We'll restock the supplies and be back as soon as we can."

Jensen nodded and pulled a smaller pouch out of his medicine bag and threw it to Steven. With a nod of acknowledgement the older men headed for the Army outpost.

%%%%%

Curiosity finally got the better of the dark-haired man.

"What's in the pouch?"

"Money."

"I thought the government confiscated all the Eastern tribes' assets?"

"They did, but Jensen's original tribe was smart. They went to Alabama and turned themselves in to Captain Benge before the soldiers came looking for them. They hid their valuables among their clothing and bedrolls. The soldiers never found any of it."

"But Jensen was born to the tribe. They wouldn't make a lot of money selling crops and the occasional horse." Christian argued.

"When Jensen's mother ran away from her father, she emptied out the old bastard's safe, plus she had the money her husband had been carrying. She gave all that to him when he revealed himself to be two-spirit and became the one person that could fulfill an old Cherokee chief's vision." Steven's tone was serious.

Though he loved both men, he gave Christian the bare bones of Jensen's history. He felt the rest was Jensen's story to tell, including the fact that the jewelry and charms Jensen wore were gold melted down from the coins also taken from his white grandfather.

"Does Jensen know where the money came from?" Christian asked, fascinated.

"Yes. His mother never hid the truth from him, but as far as he was concerned Red Clay Bear was his father. He understands both the red and white world. He told me his mother taught him how to live among the whites, but he chooses to follow the will of the Old Ones, whatever that means." Steve shook his head as the approached the gates of the fort.

"What it means," Christian's voice held a note of sadness, "is that he will put his own life and feelings to the side to fulfill the wishes of the Old Ones. It's supposedly part of being two-spirit. Jensen is a balance of male and female, a foot in this world and a foot in the spirit world." Christian's expression was sheepish when he finished.

"If you know all these things why were you such an ass when you figured out he was two-spirit?" Steve's tone had taken on a hard edge.

"Like I said-knee jerk reaction from listenin' to the old men sittin' around arguin', Choctaw on one side, Cherokee on the other. Christian's voice was still quiet. "They teach us to listen to the Elders. I guess my mama was a bad influence with sendin' me off to college, but what you learn when you're little it sometimes sticks in your head."

Steve stared hard at him for several seconds before he nodded and continued through the gates.

%%%%%

When they returned to where they'd left Jensen, they found he'd moved back across the river. Strong Heart grazed hobbled in the rich spring grass. A coffee pot sat on bubbling on the fire. There was no sign of the younger man, but pine boughs and the canvas from their tent made a snug shelter using a grouping of boulders along the river.

They unsaddled and hobbled their horses keeping an eye out for Jensen. Looking around the campsite, they wondered at the feeling of permanence. Tack settled alongside Jensen's they moved to the lean-to with their saddle bags and bed rolls. When they came out, Jensen had returned with several rabbits along with greens and tubers. Two sets of blue eyes caught green ones.

"Jensen, how long are we going to be here?" Steven asked

Guileless green eyes looked back. A negligent shrug as he laid out his bounty.

"Until the man comes. Then we will know where to go."

Do you have any idea when that will be?" Christian added.

With a shrug he began skinning the rabbits.

"During Ripe Corn-maybe the Fruit Moon."

Steven looked at Christian.

"July or August."

"At least I'll be able to send mail to my employer and remain in one place long enough to receive an answer." Steven's tone was caustic as he began pulling pots and utensils from the panniers.

%%%%%

Not one to sit idle, Christian soon had himself hired by the fort's commander as a hunter. It took a lot of meat to feed the residents of the fort, and the Army didn't mind paying someone to provide if it meant the soldiers were free to attend Army matters.

Steven and sometimes Jensen would accompany Christian on his hunts, but for the most part, Jensen shied away from tasks having to do with soldiers or the fort. Most time Jensen would help Christian dress out his kills, keeping the hides to tan along with the waste from the carcasses. By the time the healer was finished, there was very little to carry away for the scavengers.

They settled into a routine and the men were settling into their temporary home and with each other. Summer had come to Colorado. Steven and Christian would often find Jensen with his sketchpad basking in the sun as though he could save the warmth for later.

Feeling the need to clear his head and reconnect to the spirits, Jensen had built a small sweat lodge further along the river from their camp. Jensen planned to tell Steven and Christian he was going to be gone for a few days when they were sitting around the fire after supper. Working from habit, his mind already checking off what he needed to take with him, he dropped a few more things in the pot hanging over the fire, satisfied that it was ready to simmer until evening.

Hearing horses he looked up from the skin he was working thinking Christian and Steven was returning to camp. His body went still as he saw three other men with them all dressed in Army uniforms. Jensen could feel his body trembling-wanting to run. He ruthlessly squashed his emotions using the lessons he'd learn on the march to Oklahoma to appear steady and calm.

"Jenny, boy, where are ya?" Jensen could hear a slight slur in Christian's voice as he called out. "Hope you got a little extra in the pot. We brought some buddies over for supper."

Jensen carefully rolled the skin before looking across the camp. All the men's faces were flush with alcohol, their eyes bright with mischief.

"Yes, there is plenty. Who are your friends?" He asked quietly.

"These are our friends, Privates Riley Smith and Jonah Dolan, along with Sergeant Jason Manns. Really good guys." Christian gave the soldiers a lopsided grin. "Boys, this is Jensen White Crow Ackles."

Jensen stiffened at Christian giving the soldiers his full name, but gave them a polite greeting before turning to the pot hanging over the fire. Having turned away, Jensen didn't see the soldiers' reaction to the mixture of white and Indian names from someone who was obviously white.

Conversation around the fire remained in neutral territory until Private Riley produced a bottle from his saddlebags. Jensen came back into the firelight after taking the leftovers away from camp just in time to see coffee cups being filled with whiskey. He controlled the shudder that passed through his body at the memories of the rancid whiskey breath of the man that attacked him in Illinois. Blinking away the pictures rolling through his mind, Jensen stowed their utensils back in the pack saddle.

Unrolling the hide he'd been working on earlier, Jensen started where he'd left off scraping and smoothing the antelope hide.

Pleased with his progress, Jensen was startled out of the meditative state he'd dropped into as he worked the leather by loud voices coming toward him.

"Dammit, Smith, leave him be." Jensen heard the one called Sergeant Manns yell.

He looked up to see the tousled haired man coming toward him with a cup in his hand.

"Hey! Jack!...Wait…John…Cox…whatever…Carlson says you won't drink with us."

"RILEY! That's not what I said!" Steven shouted after the tipsy soldier.

Jensen froze, his eyes never leaving the inebriated man.

"Steven is right. I do not drink alcohol." Jensen kept his voice calm.

Riley plopped to ground without spilling a drop from his cup.

"You don't like us?" He cocked his head to the side.

"I do not know you."

"You never come to the fort with Christian and Steven."

"I do not have business that takes me there." Jensen tried to keep his voice bland.

"Kane says you're some kind of medicine man."

Jensen listened carefully for any derision in Private Smith's voice, but could find none. He started to relax.

"Kane seems to say a lot of things." Green eyes glared across the fire.

Cheeks flushed with color and eyes glazed with the effects of the alcohol looked back at him unrepentant. His attention was drawn back to the soldier sprawled on the ground next to him.

"How come you got all them names?"

"To honor both my white and Tsalagi families." Jensen started to relax when Riley rolled over to peer up into his face.

"Tsalagi?"

"You don't sound like you're from Oklahoma?"

"I have only been in the west since January." He hedged.

"Just visitin?"

"No. The west is my home now."

"It's just you've got this accent-I just can't put my finger on it." His voice trailed off.

When Jensen turned to answer, he saw Private Riley Smith had passed out.

%%%%%

Christian and Steven had protested loudly when Jensen told them of his plans to leave for several days. They offered to travel with him, but Jensen stubbornly maintained he needed to go alone. Christian had been quietly relieved that Jensen did not push for him to participate in the sweat. The last time the old men in Tellasi had dragged him to a sweat he'd had visions of Jensen lying bloody on the ground as a faceless man beat him, Steven trying to get to the injured man.

The rollercoaster of emotions each man experienced during night ranged from bruisingly rough and possessive to slow torture. All three men carried the marks and overused muscles as the day started in silence and remained so as Steven wrapped around Christian from behind as they watched Strong Heart carry Jensen away.

When Jensen returned the evening of the third day, his demeanor was so still you could forget he was standing next to you. He seemed more at peace with himself. He became a more equal partner in the relationship surprising both Christian and Steven when he argued or got quietly stubborn.

Christian and Steven continued to invite the three soldiers to their camp so White Crow eventually relaxed with the three soldiers though he still would not enter the fort.

When the people that lived outside the fort found out White Crow was a healer, many of the complaints they would have taken to the Army surgeon, they began bringing to him instead. Jensen was putting finishing touches on a winter coat using wolf and coyote pelts one of the Cheyenne women, whose husband worked as a scout, gave him when he treated her son.

White Crow became a familiar face in the small village of tipis where the families of the personnel it took to run an installation the size of the Bent's Fort lived. It started with drying a little girl's tears when she'd wondered from her camp captivated by a butterfly until she got the river's edge. Hearing the sniffles when he'd led Strong Heart to water, he'd spoken quietly in his raspy voice to the little girl. She didn't seem to understand English so he'd started running through dialects he knew with no luck. He finally tried Hand Talk.

The child's smile was sunny that she could finally talk to the scarred pretty man. She knew her mother would be cross and worried that she had wondered away from their camp, but she was enjoying riding the horse too much to worry about her punishment.

%%%%%

Dark eyes watched from the wall of the fort at the handsome young man dressed in buckskins as he moved through the civilian camp. Dr. Jeffrey Morgan had heard gossip about the man the children called Pretty Scar. Morgan knew he camped across the river with the dark haired hunter and the blond writer.

While Steven Carlson and Christian Kane could often be found sharing a beer or whiskey in the bar with several of the soldiers, 'pretty scar' never joined them. He'd pumped Kane and Carlson's friends for information, but all they could tell him was his name and that he'd been raised Cherokee.

His attention was drawn back to the village when one of the elders approached Jensen. They Hand Talked for a few minutes before they moved across the village and Morgan saw Jensen pull off his shirt and point to a place on his chest.

Pulling out a spy glass he gazed at the markings on the young man's skin. His breath caught as he read the story of Jensen's life on his skin before he stepped from his sight. Hearing the sentry approach, Morgan slipped the spyglass back in his pocket and went to find whether Kane or Carlson were in the fort.

%%%%%

Steven rode back to camp both confused and intrigued by the conversation he'd just had with the fort's surgeon, Dr. Jeffrey Morgan. He really needed to talk to Jensen and Christian, but they'd left early on a hunt. Still absorbed in his thoughts, he was surprised when he heard a horse nicker in greeting. Looking up he saw Strong Heart coming to greet Rocker.

Making hast to settle the mare, Steven went in search of Jensen-whom he found coming out of the river like Venus from the sea. Watching the sun shimmer off the rivulets of water running down the toned and tanned body had Steven forgetting all about Dr. Jeffrey Morgan.

His prick was so hard he was afraid to move knowing the friction of his buckskins would have him coming like a green boy. Steven watched as Jensen moved toward him with all the grace of a puma stalking prey.

"See something that makes your blood race?" The husky voice whispered in Cherokee.

Steven could only nod as he felt nimble fingers on the laces of his buckskin pants. He hardly dared breath as his wet and naked lover landed on his knees on the sandy river bank, his beautiful mouth closing over his erection. The hitch in his breath and the twitch of muscles were the only indications of Jensen's ministrations. Blue/green eyes slid closed as he enjoyed the wet warmth of the talented mouth and tongue sliding over his prick.

His eyes flew open in surprise as his orgasm ripped through his body. It was only when the adrenaline started to fade he realized what had triggered his body's response.

The abrupt intrusion of Jensen's fingers into his anus had overwhelmed his senses. When his senses finally returned, Steven could feel himself attempting to harden again as he felt Jensen sliding in and out of his body from behind. He thought it a noble attempt until Jensen's cock brushed against something that sent his body once again rushing toward orgasm. Jensen pulled him back against his chest once again hitting the same spot, sending Steven into darkness.

When Steven woke, he'd been cleaned up, his buckskins re-laced, his head pillowed on Jensen's jacket. Sitting up, the smells coming from the cook fire caused his stomach to complain the passage of time since his last meal. Getting up he looked around to see Jensen standing at their makeshift work table sorting through the plants he was constantly gathering. He saw Bronco standing with Strong Heart and Rocker, but didn't see Christian.

Wanting to continue the peaceful mood leftover from their afternoon tumble by the river, Steven came to Jensen from behind wrapping his arms around the slim waist and burying his nose in the sun streaked hair.

"Good nap?" The husky voice softly teased.

"Very." Steven continued to nuzzle until he found skin.

His efforts were rewarded as Jensen bent his head to allow Steven access to his neck. Hands roamed over the muscled chest until they touched something slick.

"What the…!?"

He turned the younger man around. Ointment usually meant injury. Jensen had not said anything about being injured, and he had not noticed anything out of place as he'd watched him come out of the river.

Calloused fingertips pressed against his lips to silence his words.

"It is nothing-a continuation of my life's journey." Jensen soothed.

Steven's eyes dropped to the fresh marks on Jensen's chest. The flower from the Trail…the one they called the Cherokee Rose. There was a feather-no a quill as he might use in his writing. The wolf tracks he had seen on Christian's chest that told others Christian belonged to the Wolf Clan. The last symbol, that was integrated with the other two, he had no knowledge of and his questing eyes caught the calm green of Jensen's.

"It is of my own design-a symbol of each of us twined together as are we."

The blond startled as Christian seemed to appear out of the shadows.

"I showed Jensen how much I like the design while you were napping." Christian purred as he pulled Steven close enough to thoroughly kiss him as they sandwiched Jensen between them.

A challenging whinny from Bronco had the men moving apart. They all made sure their weapons were close as they waited to see who was riding toward their camp. Jensen stiffened at the flash of the setting sun off of brass buttons as the Army officer rode slowly into their camp as though unsure of his welcome.

Jensen started to turn away only to be stopped by Steven's hand on his arm.

"You must come to terms with this if we are to be around the fort. You cannot judge them all on the merits of those that forced you from your home." Steven insisted. "I think we need to listen to what he has to say."

"That's the doc isn't it?" Christian asked-his shoulder pressed to Jensen's back in support.

"Yes. He singled me out at the saloon today with an interesting proposition that I think goes along with the man whose face Jensen drew."

"I will listen." Jensen stated flatly as his eyes never left the man stepping down from his horse.

Jensen straightened to this full height at the man's dark eyes never left him. Dropping his reins to ground tie the stocky bay, the soldier stepped forward with his hand outstretched. Steven stepped forward to keep the moment from getting awkward.

"Doctor Morgan, I didn't expect you so soon. I have not yet had the opportunity to speak with Jensen and Christian." With a hand on his elbow he directed Morgan toward their seating by the fire, and away from Jensen. He wasn't sure he liked the way the man practically drank Jensen down with his dark-eyed stare. "May I offer you a cup of coffee?"

"What? Yes…of course. I can even supply a little Irish." His smile was charming as he pulled a silver flask from inside his jacket.

Christian grabbed cups from the table before he moved toward the fire, Jensen moving quietly behind him. He accepted a cup of coffee, but refused the liquor. The doctor watched the interaction between the three with great interest.

Morgan watched the three men move around each other in a dance that spoke of familiarity, trust, and something he couldn't put his finger on. The looks and touches-the silent communication-reminded him…they reminded him of his grandparents. His parents' marriage had been one of convenience, a joining of old families, their money and reputation, but his grandparents had been a love match. These three handsome young men were in love with each other!

His realization almost caused him to drop his cup. It did cause him to lose control of his tongue.

"You're sodomites!?" He blurted out before he could stop himself.

Their reaction was instantaneous as Jensen and Christian moved in front of Steven to protect as hands landed on weapons. Not wanting to compound the foolishness of his blurted out words, Jeffrey held his hands out in the most non-threatening way he could remember.

Jensen didn't know the word the man called Morgan used, but he reacted to Christian's reaction and moved into protective mode should the need arise. When the doctor set down his cup and spread his hands, he asked Christian in Tsalagi to explain.

Christian's explanation had Jensen tightening his hand on the horn handle of his knife. Steven had explained how the whites ostracized, beat and even killed those who loved members of the same sex. He feared this Dr. Jeffrey Morgan was one of them.

He looked at Christian and Steven while watching Morgan out of the corner of his eye.

"Do we need to leave this place since this man knows of our relationship?" He continued to speak in Tsalagi hoping the doctor didn't understand.

"We should listen. I think he has information about the man you've been waiting to appear." Steven soothed.

Jensen looked to Christian for his reaction.

"I agree. Let's hear him out. Maybe he's just bad mannered." Christian gave them a crooked grin. "We'll keep an eye on him for a couple days and if it looks like he's puttin' together a lynch mob, it won't take us but a couple hours or less to get away from this place."

Their conversation was interrupted by Morgan who was getting a little nervous about being talked about in a Native language he didn't understand.

"I mean no harm, or disrespect. I know many tribes hold the two-spirit as sacred…I've never seen one with two partners before, and it surprised me…that's all." He hoped his tone would placate the three men, but the narrow eyed looks they were giving him was saying otherwise.

"You know of two-spirits?" Jensen's tone was curious.

"Only a little, but I've come to talk to you about a different matter."

The men all settled to listen to what the Army doctor had to say.

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Jeffrey Morgan ended up staying for supper and beyond. Instead of making him ride back to the fort in the dark, they had fixed a palette for him under the shelter of the lean-to after settling his bay gelding in with their horses. No one spoke a word about Morgan's revelations until he rode back to the fort the next morning.

They sat silent for awhile as they digested all the things that Dr. Morgan had told them. He was not really a member of the Army, but worked for the government recruiting people for mapping expeditions across the land newly acquired by the government. Colonel John Fremont would be using Bent's Fort as a base of operation for his expeditions.

Morgan had recognized the picture Jensen had drawn as the mountain man Kit Carson. Word had it that the mountain man would be coming to the rendezvous that would be happening at the fort in less than a month.

The doctor wanted them for the jobs they were doing at the fort. Christian and Jensen would hunt for the expedition, plus the added benefits of Jensen's healing skills, while Steve would document the trip and their findings. If they accepted Morgan's offer, they would have to travel to Missouri to meet with Fremont and equip for the expedition.

Seeing Steven and Christian's eyes light with excitement as they listened to Dr. Morgan speak of plans for the expedition, Jensen knew they would be accompanying the man even though the man's attention made him uncomfortable. There was something dark about the doctor's spirit.

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Jensen's wariness of Morgan and the other soldiers at the fort didn't wane as he watched the doctor's interactions with his partners and others. Many times he'd come from the Native village to find the man standing on the wall-watching. Shortly after that discovery he used the excuse of the horses needing better grass to move their camp further along the river-making sure it was out of sight of the both the village and the fort.

Strangers arriving at the fort daily increased his wariness though he was mindful of the types of pictures Steven needed for his articles, he would get close enough to make his drawings, but did his best to remain outside anyone's notice. He'd also been making maps of the area since Dr. Morgan's offer to travel with Fremont's expedition.

It exhausted him trying to think one step ahead, but Steven and Christian were everything to him and he had no intention of being caught unprepared should the glint in Dr. Morgan's eyes prove to cause them harm in the future.

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The mountain man rendezvous was in full swing. Rough and tumble, loud and brash, the area around the gates of the fort were full of tipis, tents and even a few covered wagons. Steven felt there weren't enough hours in the day to talk to everyone and record their amazing stories.

Jensen was his shadow, his charcoal drawings making lifelike scenarios to accompany the written exploits of these fascinating men and women.

Refusing to change his ways, Jensen dressed as Steven had first seen him-in breech clout, leggings and moccasins, the only remnants of the deprivations of the Trail Where We Cried being the scars of the attack in Illinois and his newly healed tattoo.

The eyes of these strangers who were wise in the ways of the wilderness and the Natives would roam over the tanned and tattooed chest, reading the life story of White Crow. They would nod sagely, give Steven a curious look then start into their story telling.

The first evening Christian joined them eyes widen and just as Steven was sure there was going to be trouble, he'd felt Jensen and Christian tense when it looked like a bull of man he only knew as Jon was about to say something, his Native wife quietly spoke in his ear making his mouth gape, eyes widen and Jensen blush.

Jensen had given the woman a grateful smile before ducking his head over his sketch pad. This action caused Christian to settle back on his heels and accept another splash of whiskey in his cup leaving Steven confused. He was quite fluent in Cherokee and was rapidly learning Cheyenne, but he had no inkling what had changed the man's attitude.

The episode was forgotten as the stories started flowing along with the whiskey and home brew that Jon's woman, Sweet Grass Weaver, kept pouring in everyone's cups. By the end of the evening, Jensen helped him and Christian onto their horses and was just getting ready to swing up on Strong Heart's back, when Steven saw Jon and Sweet Grass Weaver approach.

They spoke quietly using Hand Talk and a dialect that Steven's alcohol fuddled brain couldn't translate. He looked over at Christian, but saw the blue/grey eyes dancing with amusement as he watched Jensen with the couple. When Steven started to ask what was going on, a quick shake of the dark head had him snapping his mouth shut, and turning back in time to see Jensen lay his hands on their chests then over Sweet Grass Weaver's abdomen. The lilt of Jensen's quiet voice made the hair on Steven's arms stand up as the air seemed to crackle with energy. Jensen's voice stopped and his hands dropped. With a small smile he began to turn back to the horses when Sweet Grass Weaver handed him a package.

Thanking them with a smile, he swung up on Strong Heart and started for their camp Bronco and Rocker following closely behind.

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Part V