Title: Red Rose Ranch
Author: Paula Wilshe and Keri T
Type: Gen
Summary: Assigned to work undercover on a northern California Ranch, the partners find unexpected danger as they investigate threatening notes received by the ranch's owner. Starsky shows that he's got what it takes to be a barrel racer, and Hutch has the photos to prove it.
Format: Story
Categories: Mystery, Hutch H/C
Rating: PG
Size: 87K
Date Added: 2002-11-18

Red Rose Ranch
by Paula Wilshe and Keri T

"You gonna eat that?" David Starsky asked his partner. He pointed to the untouched pile of French fries, which were invitingly perched on the edge of Ken Hutchinson's paper plate.

"Eat what?" Hutch asked, through a mouthful of cheeseburger. He grabbed his napkin and wiped a splotch of mustard from his chin. "The fries?"

Starsky nodded.

"I was going to," he replied. With a heavy sigh, he pushed the plate across the desk at his partner. "Go ahead."

"No, not if you were gonna eat 'em," Starsky pushed the plate back.

Every inch the martyr, Hutch pushed the plate back at Starsky. "No, it's okay, you can have them..."

"You sure?" Starsky reached for the plate hopefully.

"Sure," Hutch answered, sighing again. "If I don't give them to you you'll just sit there looking deprived, and trying to make me feel guilty."

"Who, me?"

"Yeah, you." He took another bite of his cheeseburger, noting that Starsky was already cramming a handful of fries in his mouth, and Hutch hurriedly applied napkin to mustache to hide the smile that threatened to break free. Without looking up, he nudged the plate toward Starsky. "Take 'em," he said gruffly.

Although Starsky was nearly back to fighting form following last year's injuries and subsequent recovery, he was still too thin, and although he liked to eat, his appetite was not nearly what it had once been. In the last couple of months, though, Starsky had become reluctant to accept the mother-henning gestures from his partner which had become second nature to Hutch by now, and Hutch had been forced to come up with new and creative ways to encourage the dark haired man to continue on the straight and narrow path to robust good health.

"You two finished playing table tennis yet?"

The two policemen looked up into the scowling countenance of their captain.

"Hi, Cap," Starsky said, nibbling on a fry. "Want some?"

"Are you crazy?" Dobey glared at him. "Those things look as if they've been sitting around the cafeteria since Christmas."

"Probably have," muttered Hutch, as he finished off his sandwich. "You need us for something?"

"Yes, in my office," the older man replied.

"Yes sir," Starsky stood quickly and saluted him, then picked up the plate of fries and headed through the open office door, munching contentedly.

Dobey leaned down to Hutch, who was gathering up the remnants of his lunch. He patted his own considerable girth for illustrative purposes. "He's looking a little less emaciated," he said with the hint of a smile. "Nice work, son."

"It's an art, Cap," Hutch informed him, grinning.

~*~

Starsky crammed a handful of fries into his mouth. "So you want us to guard a witness? That's it?" He glanced over at Hutch. "Another really cool assignment," he pronounced.

Hutch leaned forward and fingered his mustache. "I don't think I understand, Cap, we do babysitting jobs all the time. From the way you're talking, and the uh..." he pointed across the captain's desk, "the fact that the file is so thick...what's so special about this one?"

Dobey sat back in his chair and sighed. "Well, it's out of our jurisdiction, for one thing. Up north. You'd be on loan to the local Bakersfield P.D., since they're just not staffed or trained to do this kind of thing."

"Okay," Starsky cut in. He glanced over at his partner, then back at Dobey. "What else?"

"You mean there's more?" Hutch asked.

"There's always more, Hutch," Starsky rolled his eyes.

"Well," Dobey began, "It's on a ranch."

"A ranch? Like with cows mooing in the clover?" Hutch raised an eyebrow.

"Well, that, and, uh," Dobey cleared his throat. "Horses. Either of you ride?"

"Yes."

"No," Starsky said emphatically, at the same moment as his partner's affirmative. He looked over at the blond. "You haven't ridden since last summer."

"Little bit," Hutch shrugged his shoulders at Dobey. "Used to, anyhow, and when I visit home...."

"Well that's good, then," Dobey nodded. "Your cover will be as ranch hands, so you'll be expected to put in some saddle time." He leaned across at Hutch. "You think you can give your partner a crash course in horseback riding?"

Starsky winced and shook his head. "Don't say crash, Cap, please." He shifted his backside on the chair. "I can feel the saddle sores already. He's already tried to teach me, and I..."

Hutch reached over and patted him on the knee. "Don't worry, Starsk," he said sympathetically. "I'll pack the Ben Gay."

"Terrific," Starsky muttered.

Dobey cleared his throat loudly before the detectives got going in a verbal match wherein they would joke and tease one another until he forgot the details of the assignment, which, he suspected, was their usual intent. "So anyway, gentlemen, the main focus of this assignment is going to be to protect the daughter of the state's key witness in this whole fixed County election fiasco."

The partners glanced at one another, both familiar with the ballot box stuffing accusations, which had permeated the airwaves several months before.

"Who's this guy, the witness guy?" Starsky asked, chewing a fry.

"His name is Roy Elliott," Dobey explained. "In the cattle business, and he was promised a lot of things by the men who engineered this thing, good prices for his beef, some contracts with state institutions, that kind of thing in return for keeping mum. He wasn't actually involved, you see, he found out accidentally. But then..." Dobey shrugged his shoulders.

"His conscience got the best of him," Hutch finished, leaning forward. "Or that's what the media was reporting, anyway. Guess that's to his credit, if there was no way he could've been prosecuted."

"Exactly," Dobey proclaimed. "But the ballot stuffers caught wind of it, and he's got a daughter...lovely girl," he said, "Name's...Jenny...beautiful young girl, and naturally..."

"Young girl?" Starsky asked hopefully.

"Beautiful?" chimed in Hutch. Both men stood. "When do we leave, Cap?"

"Tomorrow morning, and you'll report in to me tomorrow night. No heroics on this one, and no fighting over some little girl, you got that?"

"Oh, absolutely, Cap," Starsky said. "No fighting." He looked at Hutch with a grin. "Maybe a bit of healthy competition, that's all."

"Well," Hutch mused, "of course, I'm picturing you after a whole day on horseback, what with the Ben Gay and all..." he wrinkled his nose. "Girls don't find that very attractive."

Starsky grinned at him as the two exited the captain's office. "Hey, Hutch?"

"Yeah?"

"Next time you buy french fries so you can trick me into eating them because you think I'm too thin? Remember to pick up some ketchup too, huh?" He poked Hutch in the stomach, and exited the squad room, whistling merrily.

"I'll remember that, Starsk, thanks for the tip," Hutch grinned, shook his head, grabbed both their jackets from the backs of their chairs, and followed his partner out the door.

~*~

"I don't believe this," Hutch moaned. He pulled the old Ford pickup to a stop under the arched wooden sign that straddled the bottom of the long lane. "Red Rose Ranch?"

"So?" Starsky asked, wrinkling his forehead. "What?"

"Red Rose," Hutch repeated, as if Starsky were of low intellectual ability. "Red Rose?" He rubbed at his forehead. "After that whole thing with the florist shops a few weeks ago, I told you I never wanted to think about flowers again." He looked over at Starsky. "I'm getting a sinus headache," he complained.

"Hutch, Hutch" Starsky soothed. He patted his partner on the arm. "Get a hold of yourself, for God's sake."

"Yeah, but it's like..." He blinked at Starsky. "See? My eyes are starting to water," he said accusingly.

"Hutch," Starsky repeated, sharper now. "I mean it."

"Fine," Hutch snapped. He glanced over at his partner, who was chuckling silently. "And shut up."

Starsky reached over and tousled Hutch's hair. "Oh, relax, Blondie. Try to look at it this way, I mean, we've got a few days away from the city, a beautiful young girl named Jenny to pursue, you get to show off your alleged horseback riding skills..."

"Not 'alleged,'" Hutch interrupted. "Just because you can't tell the difference between good riding and sitting like a sack of potatoes." He shifted the truck gears and the old pickup lurched forward with a bang and a trail of smoke and dust. "Ask my mom. She'll tell you."

"Your mom also thinks you're brilliantly handsome, musically gifted, and all-around-perfect," Starsky allowed, "so right there..."

"Like I said," Hutch grinned. "Ask my mom."

~*~

"Let me get this straight," Starsky said in disbelief. "You're Jenny?"

"Yeah, what about it?" asked the compact, pigtailed ten year old. "Who are you?"

"But I thought..." Starsky shook his head. "David Starsky," he answered finally. "And this is my partner, Ken Hutchinson."

"Hutch," the blond interjected, unable to restrain a grin. "Is your dad home?"

"Ah, gentlemen, welcome to the Rose," greeted a tall, handsome man, whose hair had likely been as stunningly blond as Hutch's in his younger days. "Good to meet you, I'm Roy."

"He looks like your dad," Starsky whispered to his partner.

Roy smiled easily. "Must be the hair," he said genially. "I see you've already met my Jennifer, and this," he patted the head of a yellow Labrador Retriever who had accompanied him into the room, "is Champion, who will either be your best friend, or your worst enemy, depending on where your loyalties lie." He grinned as his daughter dropped down to hug the dog. "As you can see, Jen's one of the good guys."

"Good to meet you, Sir," Hutch extended a hand. He crouched next to Champion, patting him, and addressed the little girl. "Great dog," he smiled. "So you're Jenny, huh?"

"It's really Jennifer," she said, peering shyly up at him from behind the dog's ear.

"Pretty name for a pretty girl," Hutch smiled at her gently. He patted the dog again. "And this guy's great. He yours?"

"Mine and my dad's," she answered. "But mostly mine." She smiled.

Starsky crouched down beside them. He absently scratched the lab's ears. "So, uh, Jennifer," he said conversationally. "You got a boyfriend?"

The little girl dissolved in a fit of giggles, and Hutch glanced admiringly at his partner. Starsky had the most incredible way with kids, always. He tended to say outrageous things, unexpected things, which immediately broke through the age barrier and rendered them friends and confidants almost at once. Sometimes his partner could be very childlike, and at times like these, it was extremely advantageous--and sincere too, Hutch knew.

Hutch watched quietly and unobtrusively as Roy took a moment to size them up. He could see the furrowed brow on the older, still handsome face of their host, and wondered to himself if the man was finding something lacking in either he or his partner. He had to work to keep his face calm and still. Hutch didn't mind the intense scrutiny of his own person, but felt his protective instincts kick into high gear over the thought that anyone would find anything wanting in Starsky.

He glanced at his partner, still chatting with the little girl, and realized he was unaware of the test they were being given. For that, Hutch was sincerely grateful. Roy's face relaxed just before the moment became tense and he smiled deeply while beckoning his daughter to his side.

I guess we passed. Hutch felt his own face relaxing as he straightened, and gave Starsky a nod.

"Jennifer, why don't you go out to the kitchen and see if you can get Martha to make a pitcher of lemonade, and maybe if you ask real nice, she'll give up some of her chocolate chip cookies for our guests." He gently tugged on one of his daughter's pigtails when he saw the pout start to form, "now please, Jenny."

"Aw, Daddy!"

"Go." Roy watched his daughter trudge off to the kitchen before he turned his attention back to Starsky and Hutch. "Gentleman, why don't we get settled in the living room?" he suggested, indicating the great room just off the foyer where they currently stood. "I'm sure you'll want to hear the details of my situation, and we'll all be more comfortable there.

Starsky was the first to follow the rancher, and it was clear from his expression that he was awed by the vastness of the room. He stopped at the entrance and let out a loud whistle, as he took in the beauty and opulence contained in the high-ceilinged, ornate room. A second whistle escaped his lips, but was silenced to a wince when he felt Hutch's elbow, jab his ribs. "Hey," the dark haired cop muttered under his breath. "That hurt."

"Be good," Hutch hissed back under a wide smile.

Roy didn't hear the mutterings of the two partners, as he was on the far side of the room, near the fireplace. Both cops increased their pace to reach him, and settled into the deep, leather armchairs that framed the huge hearth.

"Mr. Elliott," Hutch began. "We're familiar with the basics of this case and our assignment, but it would be very helpful if you could provide us with more details. Especially those surrounding the most recent threats."

"Please call me Roy," the rancher said automatically. "I've never been comfortable with formal names, in fact none of my old hands would ever call me Mr. Elliott, although it does take the new ones some time to get used to the informality." He leaned forward, hands in his lap. "The threats...well, the threats started about a month ago. Shortly after I went to the authorities. Thing is, they're not exactly threats, not in so many words. Notes, no postmark, so they were hand delivered, which is what makes me think they've come from someone on the ranch, or close to it."

"If they're not threats," Hutch prompted, glancing at Starsky, "then why do you feel they're...threatening?"

Roy sighed. "Because they are all about Jen, but addressed to me. Things like...'Jennifer needs to be careful at her riding lesson, next Thursday afternoon, horses can be unpredictable,' or...'Jennifer's school bus makes an extra stop at Sage Canyon Road on Mondays.' That sort of thing. Someone who knows our schedules, and is intimidating us without putting things into threatening phrasing. But someone who wants us to recognize how easily it would be to..." He blinked at Starsky and Hutch seriously. "Do you see why I'm frightened?"

"Absolutely," Hutch agreed. "We'll need to see the notes."

"Certainly. They're typed, of course, and have already been checked for fingerprints by the local sheriff's department." Roy reached in the drawer of his desk and handed over several sheets of paper. "But it has to be an inside job," he said, "because no one else would know..."

Starsky eagerly welcomed the opening to one of the questions foremost in his and Hutch's mind. "Just how many new men would you say you have right now, Roy?" He asked gently.

"Well, let's see, I guess about fifteen. We always have to bring on new hands at this time of the year." He noticed the questioning looks on the detective's faces. "Beef goes to market next month, the work always triples about now. Do you think you can help us, Detective Hutchinson?"

"My partner and I don't stand on formality either, Roy. I'm Hutch," Hutch shot a finger in Starsky's direction, "and you can call this guy Starsky. I'm not sure either of us would answer to our first names anymore."

"Of course, what my partner hasn't mentioned yet, is that's just in here, when we're alone. When we're working with your, hands?" Starsky glanced quizzically at Hutch who nodded briefly at him. Clearly pleased that he'd used the unfamiliar vernacular correctly, Starsky continued. "When we're working with the hands, we'll be using different names. I'll be going by Joe, and Hutch will be going by Adam."

"Joe and Adam, in public, Starsky and Hutch in private. I got it." Roy glanced in the direction of the foyer, a trifle nervously. "Before you begin investigating the threats, you need to understand that Jenny can't know anything about this. I don't want her frightened."

"How much does she know?" Starsky asked.

"Nothing, and that's the way I want it kept. May I have your word on that?" The look that the rancher gave the cops brooked little room for argument.

"Okay, we can do that, but how much time does she spend with the help? She already knows our real names, which may not have been a bright move on our parts," Hutch caught his partner's eye, and Starsky shrugged in return. "It seems like a lot to expect from a little girl, that she won't be confused as to what to call us, and more importantly, why we have two names."

"Plan B, partner?"

"Plan B."

"What's plan B?" Roy inquired, trying to keep up with the verbal shorthand.

"Plan B is that your new ranch hands are named Dave and Ken. I'm Ken, he's Dave."

Roy rubbed his temples, "Okay, you're going to be Dave and Ken at work, and Starsky and Hutch when we talk privately, and no Joe and Adam at all?"

"That's right, or you can just call us Dave and Ken all the time," Starsky added helpfully.

"I'm glad we got that settled, now can we discuss how you're going to keep my little girl safe?"

The partner's were prevented from answering by a plaintive wail coming from the other hallway. "Daddy! Come help me, this is heavy."

"Excuse me a moment, officers." Roy hurried off in search of his daughter, leaving the partners alone.

"Gee, Dave, I'd say we're off to a rip roaring start." Hutch offered disgustedly.

"Ah, Ken, you always look at the bad side first," Starsky teased, enjoying the look of annoyance on Hutch's face. "Of course I'm disappointed that we can't be Joe and Adam."

"You just wanted to play Bonanza, that's why you picked those names."

"We are working on a ranch now, Hutch, those names would have been perfect."

"We'll save them for the next time we're undercover as ranch hands, okay?"

"Okay, next time. Hey, you know what?"

"What, Starsk?" Hutch sighed, knowing that nothing good was going to come out of his partner's mouth.

"When we do this again?"

"Yeah?"

"You shouldn't be Adam."

"No?"

"Hoss," Starsky said seriously. "Next time we're ranch hands, you be Hoss." He reached over and patted Hutch's midsection lightly.

"Fine," Hutch snapped, slapping at Starsky's hand. "I'll be Hoss. And you can be Hop Sing. 'Course, you'll have to grow a braid..."

Starsky snorted, which made Hutch laugh, and the dark haired man shook his head good-naturedly. "I owe ya one, Blondie," he promised.

The two men glanced up as Roy reentered the living room carrying a large pitcher in one hand, and balancing a tray of glasses in the other. Jenny was right behind him, holding a plate of cookies. "Martha says these are still warm!" she said proudly, setting the plate down on the table between the detectives' chairs.

Roy passed out glasses of lemonade, then settled back in his own chair. "Normally," he reached for a cookie, "When we take on ranch hands who've not worked with us before, we give them a couple of weeks on barn duty before they start out on the range. This gives them a chance to get used to our ways, get to know the animals, and the rest of the crew. Same pay, of course. Would that be acceptable to you two?"

"Absolutely," Hutch agreed, knowing that this time would afford them the perfect opportunity to guard and get to know the ten-year-old, as well as become familiar with the other ranch hands, and begin to weed out suspects. He stole a glance at Jennifer, who was watching him intently. "This is absolutely the best cookie I have ever had in my life," he told her, with a beaming smile. "Did you help to make these?"

"How'd you know that?" Jennifer asked shyly.

"Lucky guess," Starsky put in, tugging a pigtail. He turned to Roy. "Well, can we get the grand tour?"

"Absolutely," Roy answered, rising. "How about if we have Jen show you the barn and the stock? Getting new employees settled is one of her specialties."

~*~

"No, no, no, like this," Jennifer insisted, tossing her rope smoothly. It landed in a loose oval around the fence post, and she pulled gently on the end she still held, tightening the loop. "You try it again," she urged Starsky.

"I don't understand why this is so important," complained the dark haired man. "It seems kinda dumb." Following a tour of the barn and introductions to all of the horses, during which Starsky had learned much more than he felt he'd ever needed to know about the differences in horsefeed, sawdust, and timothy versus alfalfa hay, Roy Elliott's daughter had expressed horror at the revelation that the new ranch hands had never "thrown a rope."

"It's not dumb," Jennifer frowned. "What if your pack horse gets away, or one of your heifers takes off or you have to catch a bad guy or something? Don't you guys ever watch 'Bonanza'? You've got to know how to do this. When we're done this, we'll get you on a horse, and see what you can do." She shrugged her shoulders. "You seem like nice guys and all, but if you ride as well as you rope, I don't know what my dad was thinking hiring you. You ever been on a horse?"

"Not much," Starsky muttered.

"What?"

"I said, I'm not as good as Hutch...I mean...Ken," Starsky flushed. "His family back in Minnesota has horses, so sometimes when we go visit, we ride a little bit. Where is he, anyway?"

The girl lifted the loop of the rope off the fence post, and began winding the rest of the rope up around her arm. "He's in the barn, grooming two horses for you guys. You haven't done this too much before, have you?" She squinted up at him. "Do you have regular jobs?"

"Regular...well, yeah..." Starsky said. "Hey, partner," he shouted, relieved as Hutch came out of the barn leading two horses. "How're you makin' out?"

"Terrific," Hutch grinned, as he transferred both sets of reins to one hand, and adjusted the cowboy hat he wore. "You ready to ride a little bit?"

"Yeah, let me try this one more time," Starsky said, coiling the rope around his arm. He looked at Jenny. "Stand here?" he asked.

Jenny exchanged a look with Hutch, who had looped both horses' reins around the fence on the other side of the ring. "No, back up a little bit," she said.

Starsky took a tentative step back as Hutch strode toward him. "Here?"

"Little bit more, Starsk," Hutch called as he came closer. "Little bit...little bit..."

Starsky kept backing.

"Perfect," Hutch grinned, as Starsky plunged, backside first into the bathtub sized water trough behind him. "Absolutely perfect."

"Got him good," Jenny giggled, moving toward Starsky. "You okay?"

"Sure I am," Starsky fumed. "I was hot anyway." He splashed water at his partner and the little girl. "Brats."

"Here you go, Hopalong," Hutch offered a hand to pull his friend out of the water. Quicker than lightning, Starsky twisted Hutch's arm, and within seconds Hutch had splashed into the trough on top of him. Sputtering and coughing Hutch broke the surface of the water, holding the cowboy hat aloft. He spit a generous amount of water in his partner's face in retribution, and looked up at Jenny. "Saved the hat," he said triumphantly.

Starsky simply rolled his eyes, placed a large hand on Hutch's head and pushed him back under the water, favoring Jenny with a huge grin and a wink.

~*~

Hutch let himself down on the bed with a moan. "Ohhh..."

Starsky chuckled as he surveyed the one room bungalow the partners had been assigned during their stay at the ranch. Although Spartan in design, it at least offered privacy, a small bathroom, and two bunkbeds, and there were several such structures in a cluster that the ranch hands called home during their tenures at the Rose. "Little stiff there, Hutch?" Starsk asked. He rummaged through Hutch's duffel bag, which reposed on the small table in the center of the room. "Now where'd you put that Ben Gay?" he asked, in an innocent voice.

"Shut up," Hutch hissed. "Just...shut up."

"Guess the hot shower didn't do it, huh? Here you go. " Starsky held up the tube triumphantly. "Wow," he said conversationally. "Who'd've thought you'd be the one to get saddle sore? All the riding you used to do?" He sat down on the edge of the cot next to his partner. "'Course, you haven't ridden for a good long while, and I was doin' all that PT and all, guess I'm just a little more limber right now..."

"Starsky," Hutch warned, "I don't want to hear about it right now, I hurt."

Starsky unscrewed the cap. "Where's it hurt? Your backside? Drop your drawers," he suggested with an evil leer.

"I have a gun," Hutch said pleasantly.

"Is that a proposition?" Starsky grinned.

"You should be so lucky," Hutch said with a grimace. "No, it's my back, in the middle, down low." He undid his shirt slowly. "I'll be fine, couple of aspirin, no problem."

Starsky squeezed out an inch of the ointment onto his fingers, and with his other hand lifted Hutch's shirt up and away from his back. Gently he ran his fingers over the tight muscles, holding the shirttail with the hand that was resting on Hutch's shoulder. "This'll help," he said matter of factly.

"But it smells, Starsk," Hutch complained, "and everyone will know I...god that feels good." He sighed and began to relax.

Starsky continued to soothe the aching muscles, widening his circle till he'd massaged the entire lower half of his partner's back. "Small price to pay," he said. "You'll be able to move, that's the important thing."

Hutch leaned his head forward, giving in to relief from the soreness. "I suppose," he sighed. "Ohhhh..."

"Tough day, huh, guys?" The partners looked up into the smiling face of Roy Elliott, who leaned against the open doorframe.

"Your kid about wore us out," Starsky grinned. "Man, she's something else."

Hutch looked up at the ranch owner. "Let's see, today, so far, she's out roped us, out ridden us, oh, and let's not forget that she had four saddles cleaned and oiled while I was still working on our two."

Roy came inside, pulled out one of the chairs that was up against the table, and sat down. "She's pretty amazing," he agreed. "My wife died when she was three, so it's just been the two of us all this time. Kid never had any interest in Barbies, she was riding before she could walk. Not that she's not a kid, she likes to play and have fun with her friends from school, or whatever, but she is passionate about the Rose, and her horses..."

"And her dad," Hutch said with a smile. "And I think that's terrific. We had fun with her today."

"So you can understand," Roy's voice dropped, "That the thought of anyone ever hurting her..." He shook his head. "'Couldn't take that," he said. "Couldn't..."

"Don't worry, Roy," Starsky pulled Hutch's shirt back down and patted his back lightly to indicate he was finished. He screwed the cap back on the tube of ointment. "We won't let anything happen to her. We promise."

Roy nodded, and from his expression it was clear that he both trusted and liked the detectives immensely. "Thank you," he offered. "Martha should be ringing the dinner bell shortly," he said. "We all eat together, Jen, me, all the hands...we're kind of like family, all of us."

"You eat with the ranch hands?" Starsky asked.

"Absolutely." Roy stood up. "We're all in this together, all working toward a common goal. This isn't just my ranch because my name's on the deed." He shrugged his shoulders. "It's the earth, it belongs to all of us."

"Well," Hutch said thoughtfully, "I'm gonna guess that, because you've got that attitude, you've instilled that in your daughter." He started to button his shirt again, and stood up.

"Which confirms my earlier point. You've got one terrific kid there," he smiled warmly.

~*~

"You know," Starsky mused, lying back against the cool grass and flopping over on his side. "I could get used to this." He pointed across the field. "Beautiful sunsets, unbelievable dinners, work hard, curl up on the grass and relax when you're done..."

Hutch moved slightly against the tree he was propping up. "I know what you mean," he yawned. "Like, you're exhausted, but you've earned it."

"You boys want some more coffee and another slice of apple pie?" offered Martha, the Rose's head cook. "Coffee's fresh, and just took another pie out of the oven."

"Oh, thank you, ma'am, but no," Starsky said, smiling up at her. He patted his stomach. "I'm about ready to burst." He reached over and tapped Hutch's midsection. "And Ken here's tryin' to watch it. The dinner was great, though. No wonder the same hands sign on every year here."

A nearly imperceptible shadow passed across her face and was gone instantaneously. "Yes, I know," she answered brightly. "Roy is very proud of that."

"I imagine he would be," Hutch offered, flicking his eyes over to Starsky. "Hey, partner, you ready to head back to the bunkhouse?"

"I think so, yeah," Starsky agreed, pushing himself up from the lawn. "You need a hand?"

"Nope." Hutch stood and stretched. "I'm good, thanks." He turned to the cook and smiled. "Thank you for a wonderful meal, Martha," he said. "Good night."

~*~

"So what do you make of that?" Starsky asked, hanging over the edge of the top bunk so he could look at his partner. "You think the cook's in love with the ranch owner?"

Hutch placed his hands behind his head, and shifted his weight slightly on the mattress. "Boy, I don't know what to think," he answered. "This sure isn't like some TV western, is it? All the blood's gonna rush to your head, you know."

"Probably," Starsky agreed amiably, although he didn't change position. "I've never seen a group of people act like they've got such a vested interest in a place...without having a vested interest in a place."

"Yeah, it's like...Starsky, for God's sake come down from there, you're making me dizzy hanging upside down like that."

Starsky flipped himself off the top bunk and crawled across the bottom of Hutch's bed. "Better?" he asked.

"Yes, but," Hutch nudged him with a toe. "Now I can't stretch out."

"Cramped or dizzy," Starsky offered. "Take your pick."

Hutch pulled his legs up and turned on his side. "Cramped," he decided. "It's like all the guys we've met really are family. They're respectful, but familiar, I can't think of a one who didn't impress me as truly attached to the place, the kid, Roy, even the cows for God's sake."

"That's my impression too," Starsky agreed. "I mean, I realize that any good criminal is well schooled in a certain amount of deceptive tactics, and yet my gut feeling from these guys is...well...that they're clean, and not the ones threatening the family."

Hutch yawned. "That's what I got too," he said, "and then I thought maybe I was being gullible, so I'm glad you got the same impression." He thumped on his pillow and closed his eyes. "Maybe we can figure it out tomorrow, huh?"

"You bet," Starsky scrambled off the bed, giving his partner a pat on the hip. "G'night," he added, vaulting back up to the top bunk.

~*~

"Hey, you guys," Jenny called from the doorway. "It's after five, you're oversleeping!"

"Starsk," Hutch murmured drowsily. "Turn off the radio, wouldya?"

"Yeah, sure," Starsky reached over to hit the offending button, very nearly falling out of bed before he realized there was no clock radio in the room. "What the..." he sat up straight, pushing tangled curls out of his eyes. "What do you mean 'oversleeping'?" he asked, as consciousness began to kick in. "It's still dark out."

Jenny's voice drew closer as she moved into the room. "But we've got to get all the horses saddled up and ready for the guys. They leave by six," she explained.

"You're kidding, right?" Starsky hung over the edge of the bunk bed and stared at Hutch. "She's kidding, right?"

Hutch struggled to sit up. He dragged a hand across his face, and rubbed his eyes. "I don't think she's kidding, Starsk," he said, when we was able to focus on the child's face. "Can we have five to get dressed, hon?" he asked, giving Starsky's head a push upward toward his own bunk.

"Sure," Jenny replied. She grinned at Starsky. "Like your long johns," she said, "Red's a good color for you," and she bolted out the door to the sound of Hutch's pealing laughter.

~*~

"Martha, you're a godsend," Hutch said gratefully as she refilled his coffee cup. "Thank you." He stretched and yawned, then poked Starsky in the arm. "Hey," he said. "Hey." He smiled up at Martha. "Takes him a while to wake up," he explained.

"You two'd better get a move on," she told Hutch. It's quarter after five. Horses need time for their feed to settle, you know."

"Yup," Hutch said, rising from the picnic table. He tugged Starsky's arm. "Let's go, Little Joe," he urged.

"I'm up, I'm up," Starsky muttered, dragging a hand across his face. He blinked in the bright light from the back of the ranch house. "This is torture, you know."

"I know," Hutch soothed, pulling him along. "Gotta coddle him a little," he grinned to Martha. "Thanks for breakfast," he added.

The two made short work of passing out grain and hay to the rows of horses in the barn, and as the horses munched happily away, began the tedious task of brushing saddling each one, leaving the bridles off until the ranch hands were ready to go. At one point Starsky disappeared, and Hutch found him sitting longingly atop a mass of hay. "What are you doing?"

"Could sleep right here, Hutch, just lay right down and..."

Hutch pulled him to his feet, just as Roy entered the feed room. "Mornin', boss," Hutch drawled in his very best cowboy. "How are you doing?"

"Not so well," Roy sat down heavily. "Found this on the porch this morning." He held out a sheet of paper to the blond detective.

Wide awake now, Starsky scrambled up and read over his partner's shoulder. "Shit," he whispered as his eyes flicked over the page.

"Last chance," the note read. "Police protection isn't all it's cracked up to be. Pretty little girls..."

"Pretty little girls what, what!" Roy slammed his hand on the wall in frustration. He blinked back tears of anger and fright. "I don't know what to do," he said. "What should I do?"

Hutch reached out and rubbed his shoulder calmly. "Roy, it's okay. We'll get to the bottom of this today. Whoever this is, well, they're ready for a confrontation. Starsk and me...well, we're good at that. It's what we do," he smiled gently. "Your being upset, and frightening Jen isn't going to help."

"I know," Roy nodded, "I know that, in my head...it's just..." He placed a hand against his chest. "Here. It hurts."

"I know," Hutch said softly. "I know."

"Hey, you guys!" Jennifer streaked down the aisle of the barn, pigtails flying, and using a bale of hay as a springboard, catapulted herself into Starsky's arms. "You guys gonna ride with me this morning?"

"I think we've got some work--" Starsky began. "God, you're heavy. Martha feed you rocks for breakfast?"

"Please? Daddy, please can they?"

Roy tugged on her pigtail. "For a little bit, if that's okay with Ken and Dave," he said. "You and I have some errands to run later on, you know."

"I know." She made a face. "Dentist," she explained.

Hutch laughed and kissed her on the forehead. "Hey, you need to keep those pearly whites beautiful or nobody will be able to tell your age from looking at them the way we do with the horses. That's important."

"I guess so," she frowned. "Long's they don't do that drill thing."

"Oh, you mean like this?" Starsky teased, making a buzzing noise and digging his thumbs into her sides until she giggled her way out of his arms and flopped down on the hay.

Starsky held out a hand. "Come on, squirt, let's you and me get some carrots for the beasts, and then we'll show my partner a thing or two about how riding's really done. You wanna teach me to barrel race?" he asked, as they left the barn.

"Dentist?" Hutch asked Roy, as soon as Jennifer was out of earshot.

"Yes, legitimately too. Check up, although I can cancel it if you..."

"Who else knows?" Hutch asked, frowning.

"No one," Roy said after a moment's consideration. "Martha, I guess, she made the appointment for us. That's all, though, no one else."

"Okay." Hutch pushed his hair off his forehead. "Okay," he decided, "then I think you should go. We'll keep Jen occupied this morning, she can, uh..." he chuckled, "she can teach Starsk how to barrel race, then this afternoon while you're gone, we'll nose around a little more."

"Okay," the rancher agreed. He sighed heavily. "I just want this to be over, I just..."

"I know," Hutch agreed, "and we'll do our best. One more thing."

"Anything. You know that."

Hutch licked his lips. "You got a camera?"

"Sure, why? Evidence?"

"Of the best kind," Hutch said. "Starsky barrel racing. You have any idea how much I could get for photos like that at Metro?"

~*~

"Hyahhhh..." Starsky dug his heels into the horse's sides and took off through the two barrels Jen had set up at the mouth of the schooling ring. He urged the horse forward , already bending him toward the right and around the first barrel.

Jen stood up on the fence, yelling and cheering him on, as Hutch snapped photo after photo with the camera Roy had slipped to him.

"Keep goin', Starsk!" he yelled, snapping the shutter once again. "God, this is gonna be great," he said to Jen.

"He's not bad, you know," Jenny whipped her head around to watch Starsky again, pigtails flying in exhilarated glee. "Go, go, go, go!" she yelled. "Home stretch, go!" as Starsky rounded the last barrel and headed toward the center for the gate.

Bending low over the horse's neck, he whooped and hollered, holding on to the reins with one hand, and waving his cowboy hat through the air with the other. Finally, stopping short at the gate, he brought the horse around to Jen and Hutch. "How'd I do?" he asked breathlessly. "Pretty good, huh? Pretty darned good, Hutch, huh?"

"Smile pretty," Hutch instructed him, and took another picture.

"That was great!" Jen shouted enthusiastically. "Please, please can't you guys be here this summer for the county fair?" She turned to Hutch. "How come he didn't look that good when we were just plain riding?"

"He's a speed demon," Hutch answered dryly, taking a photo of the little girl, and then another. "Gets crazed, you know. You should see him drive."

"Hey you," Starsky grinned. "Let's see you top that, Blintz."

"Why you call him Blintz?" Jen asked, her forehead wrinkling.

"Because he's out of his mind," Hutch said, "That's why he calls me that."

"Nah," Starsky explained, still out of breath from the ride. "It's 'cause he's crusty on the outside, but I'm tellin' ya, Jen, inside this guy's just a big mushball."

"Am not," Hutch growled, as Jenny pivoted off the fence and wrapped her arms around his neck. His expression softened and he held her with one arm, leaning into her hug. "Okay, maybe just a little bit." He leaned in close. "But I'll never admit it to him," he stage whispered.

"I won't tell him, I promise," Jenny whispered, as Starsky tugged on her pigtail. "It'll be our secret."

~*~

Hutch looked around through the open kitchen door. "Martha?"

"Right here," Martha answered, wiping her hands on the apron she wore loosely tied about her ample waist. "You boys making out okay?"

"Just fine," he smiled. "The barn is clean and ready for the horses when they come back, and all our chores are done."

"Where's your partner?"

"He's taking a shower, says he has to wash off the smell of the horses," Hutch chuckled. "Although, between you and me, I think it's the stalls and not the horses that are getting to him."

Martha smiled. "Seems like you two are getting on all right here," she said. "That's good. Jenny's really taken a liking to you both."

"She is a terrific kid," Hutch agreed. "Wouldn't mind having one like her myself someday. Do you have children, Martha?"

"One son," she nodded. "Grown now, but he'll always be my baby. Beef stew for supper," she said, indicating a pile of vegetables she had begun to cut up. "Do you want something for lunch? It must be about time."

"I actually was wondering if I could make a couple of sandwiches, if you wouldn't mind," Hutch told her. "We thought we might take a ride out along the ridge, get to know the land a little better so we're not holding anyone back when we start riding with the crew."

"Good idea," Martha agreed. "Best way to do that is out the gate and up the road to the trail at the foot of the hills there." She pointed out the window with a carrot. "That way you can climb the ridge up there, and see a lot more of the acreage from above. Most of the trails and fields on this side of the ranch will be visible if you climb high enough."

Hutch reached over and snatched a peeled carrot, grinning in apology. He took a bite, chewing for a moment before he answered. "Is that the way everyone went this morning?"

"I believe so," she answered. "They're checking fences up on the north side today, and they'll be moving southward all week long. Too close to market time to take a chance losing half the herd through a broken section of fence."

"Then that's what we'll do," Hutch stood up. "You don't mind if we..."

"You go get yourselves and your horses ready, son" she offered. I'll make you a nice pack lunch to take along. Your partner like barbecued chicken?"

"My partner," Hutch said, taking another bite of carrot, "likes anything that doesn't bite him back." He paused. "And a few things that do."

~*~

Hutch looked behind him as the horses picked their way along the rocky ridge. "You doing okay back there?" he asked.

"Fine," Starsky assured him. "Think the barrel racing loosened me up."

"I was thinking more of the fact that we're on top of a ridge and," Hutch looked off to the side. "It's a pretty fair ways down."

"Horses seem to know what they're doing," Starsky observed. "I'm just goin' along for the ride. What do you make of all this anyway?"

"I...you know...I just keep thinking we're missing something really obvious," Hutch answered thoughtfully. "Like we're not looking in the right place or something. On the surface," he lifted off his cowboy hat to push back damp blond bangs, "everything seems so perfect."

"Too perfect?"

"I don't know. That's what bothers me. I think." Hutch swiveled in the saddle and grinned back at Starsky. "It's like...it's like 'The Waltons' here or something. All the family gets along with all the staff, who gets along with all the cowhands. Man, somewhere there's a bad apple in here."

"One bad apple don't spoil the whole bunch, girl..." Starsky sang.

Hutch shook his head. "Someday I will kill Huggy for giving you that Osmond Brothers album," he said firmly. "Although I like you better when you sing Donny than Marie."

"Paper Roses...Paper Ro-o-o-oses..." Starsky warbled, ending the syllable with a howl.

"Starsky, please, that hurts my ears," Hutch pleaded.

"Okay, okay, okay, just tryin' to have a little fun," Starsky pouted. "Why don't you sing one?"

"No."

"Aw, c'mon, we're out on the trail, we're cowboys, we're supposed to be singin' to the cows and stuff."

"Starsky, there are no cows. They're with the real cowboys, and I'm sure as hell not singing to you," Hutch said firmly.

"I'm hurt," Starsky pouted. "Truly wounded."

The two continued to chat back and forth as the horses continued up the edge of the ridge, picking carefully among the rocks. Intent on their banter, and interspersed discussion of the case at hand, neither partner noticed a shadowy figure lurking behind the rocks ahead of them, nor did they notice when a burlap sack, one end open, was tossed to the left of the trail.

Suddenly a rattling noise erupted from beside Hutch, and a spotted snake slithered across the rocks, stopping short just a few inches from his horse's feet. Hutch's horse reared straight up, as did Starsky's before both took off at a blinding gallop that was much too fast and out of control for the care that the terrain demanded.

Starsky lost his reins when the two horses bolted, and quickly grabbed on to the saddle horn, trying to keep his seat. His eyes were wild as the two horses continued to buck, inadvertently taking them closer to the edge of the cliff. "Hutch! Hutch! I'm gonna get tossed!" he cried out.

"No you're not! Hang on, just hang on." Hutch kept his cool as he fought to calm his own horse and inch him closer to Starsky's mount. "Just hang on, I'll get your reins, just stay calm."

"You better hurry, buddy!"

Hutch didn't take time answering, he just continued easing his horse down and over, calmly, surely, until he was within an arm's reach of Starsky's horse. The bay was beginning to settle, the wild bucking coming at longer seconds apart. "Easy, boy, easy," Hutch crooned, as much to Starsky as to the two startled horses. His own horse was no longer bucking, but still breathing hard, and pawing the ground.

Hutch saw his chance when the bay had remained still for an agonizingly long fifteen seconds. He crooked a smile at Starsky, whispering, "Hang on." Quick as a snake, Hutch shot his right hand out and snagged the hanging reins. He was just starting to wrap the worn leather around his hand, when in unison, both horses reared again. This time it was too fast and too violent. Neither man could hold on, and both were flung from their saddles.

It had happened so fast, that Starsky had no recollection of flying headfirst over his horse. He laid sprawled out on the hard ground, stunned and shaken, the wind knocked out of him, and a nasty cut bleeding on his left forearm. He tried to clear his head, unsure whether or not he'd been unconscious and if so, for how long. Above him, he could hear the sound of the two horses, whinnying softly. He sat up slowly, flexing his arms and looking around the area. It was so quiet, and something felt wrong.

Where was Hutch?

His heart began to bang painfully in his chest when all he could see were the horses. "Hutch?" He called anxiously. "Hutch, where are you?" No answer.

With a low groan, Starsky hauled himself to his feet, grateful that his legs were taking his weight. He had to lower his head as a wave of dizziness made the ground spin beneath him, but he held on, and shouted his partner's name again and again. No answer.

He couldn't have gone for help; the horses are still here. Where the hell are ya Hutch?

Starsky looked from side to side, before focusing straight ahead, at the drop not eight feet from where he stood. "No," he whispered aloud. "Oh God, no."

Half- running and half- tripping, he made his way to the edge of the cliff, and dropped to his knees. The sight that met his eyes filled him with cold terror.

Oh God, Oh my God, ...Hutch.

The blond was lying face down on a very narrow ridge, about ten feet below where Starsky was kneeling in disbelief. His right leg and arm dangled off the edge. His face was turned towards the side of the hill, and Starsky could see blood, a lot of blood, running from somewhere above the left temple. He wasn't moving, but Starsky could see the shallow rise and fall of the blue work shirt, and almost swayed with the relief that at least Hutch was breathing.

Think, I gotta think. Starsky tried to marshal his wits about him. There wasn't much time, if Hutch woke up...

If he comes to, and moves at all, he's gonna fall. I don't know what's holdin' him up now, but it can't be that strong. I can't ride for help; if I leave him and he wakes up...plus it'll take too long. I can't climb down, 'cause there's nothin' to hold on to, that's a straight drop. Oh God, what do I do?

Behind him, he heard the horses move restlessly. No longer caring whether or not they bolted again, he glanced up just to see what direction they were going to flee in. His eyes fell on the saddle of his mount, and locked on the curled work rope.

The rope. I gotta get the rope; maybe, just maybe I can use that to anchor Hutch.

Starsky moved as slowly as he dared, crawling on his hands and knees to make as little noise as possible so that the skittish horses would hopefully take no notice of him. His frayed nerves and the throb from his cut arm were causing him to pant heavily, as he approached the bay. He had to blink the sweat from his eyes, as he reached a shaky arm up to the side of the saddle and freed the rope. In an instant he was on his feet and moving back to the edge, rope in hand.

The two horses stayed their ground.

It took Starsky a minute to form the loop as Jenny had taught him. He willed his hands to not shake as he tried to gauge the proper width he needed. Anxiously he scanned his partner's still form, the lump in his throat as painful as the cut on his arm. Hang on, babe.

Finally, he had the rope looped successfully, and he dropped flat on his belly to get the closest possible look at Hutch's position before he began.

Hutch was coming to.

In horror, Starsky watched as the blond head began to move slightly and a low moan reached his ears. There was no time to think, no time to shout a warning, for that would only startle Hutch and possibly send him plunging to his death. He sprang to his feet, and whirled the rope above his head three quick turns to gain the speed he needed, then he snapped the rope downward and prayed.

The rope circled Hutch's dangling right calf; just as Hutch raised his head and pushed up with his left arm. The ledge holding him groaned and crumbled a little under the pressure. Starsky tightened the loop around Hutch's leg with a sharp jerk, and braced his legs, before calling down.

"Hutch, hold completely still. I've got you, you're not going to fall, but you can't move. Do you hear me, Hutch?"

"Starsk? Starsk?" Hutch's voice was weak and low, but Starsky could hear the near panic in the shaky tone. Hutch was aware of his circumstances now.

"Right here, buddy, I'm right here. Just don't move. Hold perfectly still."

"Starsk, my head...hurts. Dizzy."

"Close your eyes, babe," Starsky shouted. "Close them and just stay very, very still. I'm going to get you up, I just need a minute." Starsky pulled the extra slack taut, and started walking backwards towards where the horses still stood near a large tree. Once he had the rope tied off to the trunk, and Hutch anchored, he could figure out a way to pull him up.

Distantly, Starsky heard the sound of rocks falling, and again the sound of Hutch's panicked voice rang out. "Starsky! Hurry! The ledge is crumbling!"

Starsky didn't spare the time to answer. Frantically he wrapped the rope several times around the sturdy trunk, and tied it in double knot. He'd no sooner finished that, than the loose slack on the ground tightened. Hutch was slipping.

Sweat was pouring down his face as Starsky turned and ran for the edge, throwing himself on the ground, and gathering the rope in his hands. The ledge that supported Hutch was now gone up to his waist, and the injured man, was clinging one handed to what remained. Starsky tightened his grip.

"Hutch...Hutch listen to me now," Starsky spoke in as gentle a tone as he could muster. "You gotta tell me where else you're hurt before I start dragging you up. Is your back okay?" Starsky waited but Hutch didn't respond. All he could hear was the sound of harsh gasping.

"Answer me, Hutch!"

The blond raised his face, revealing ravaged eyes that tore at Starsky's heart. "M-My back is o-okay. Just my head and my leg hurt."

"Which leg?" Starsky prayed it wasn't the right one. The thought of dragging Hutch up ten feet with all his weight pulling on a possibly broken limb made him feel sick inside.

"The left one. Oh God, Starsk, get me up, I feel sick." Hutch began to cough and retch violently, causing more of the ledge to crumble.

They were running out of time.

"Easy, buddy, easy," Starsky soothed as calmly as he could. "I'm going to start moving you now, and here's what you gotta do." Starsky could see tears standing out in Hutch's eyes as the retching finally stopped and again he looked to his partner. "Aw, babe, it's gonna be okay, just a little bit longer. Now listen real good. I want you to put your hands under the ledge flat against the rock, then lower your head away from the ledge. Do it now! Come on; just drop your hands flat against the rock. I've got you and you're not gonna fall. Trust me."

Hutch gave a brief nod, and lowered his hands and head slowly beneath the ledge. Starsky immediately pulled the slack up, keeping the rope tight on the captured leg. "That a boy, there ya go, you're doing great," Starsky encouraged, his own face and neck now drenched in perspiration. "Okay, now slide your body over until you're flat against the rock. Then I'm gonna start pulling and I want you to walk your hands up the cliff, as I pull. On three, partner, we go on three."

"One." Starsky said loudly as Hutch inched further off the ledge.

"Two." Mentally, Starsky began calculating the dead weight about to drop. 180 pounds, he weighs about 180 pounds...Dear God, let me be able to pull him up.

"Three." Hutch dropped. His hands scrambled for purchase on the rocky surface. Above, Starsky heaved with all his might, digging the heels of his boots into the ground and fighting the pull of Hutch's weight trying to drag him forward.

"Starsky! Starsky!" Hutch was overcome with vertigo as he stared down at the swirling ground 100 feet below him. He was now completely vertical, and his leg in agony as the rope pulled and tugged on it. He bloodied the tips of his fingers and tore off several nails in his desperation to hang on to the stony hillside.

"Help me, Hutch! Push up with your arms and walk your hands!" Starsky was making no headway, gravity and the position Hutch was trapped in coaxing him closer to the edge rather than pulling Hutch up. His bleeding left arm was quivering under the strain and drops of blood fell on the rope, mixing with his sweat. The rope became slick in his hands and he lost ground, and was pulled even closer to the drop.

Oh please...Oh please...

Lower and lower the rope pulled him down, until he was on his backside, frantically trying to brace his legs against the moving dirt. The sounds of Hutch's terror filled moans made everything surreal, as if they were both caught in the same nightmare and just needed to wake up.

When his boot-clad feet were pulled over the side, Starsky had to let go of the rope and an anguished roar of frustration and pain ripped through him. Helplessly, he watched as Hutch dropped the three feet of slack that the rope allowed, the blond's body crashing cruelly against the rocky terrain.

Think...Think!

"Hang on buddy. That wasn't workin' but I'm comin' up with plan B." Starsky couldn't tell if Hutch was still conscious, but he said the words for both of them. From somewhere behind him, he heard the forgotten horses again.

Plan B! I just need one of them! Quickly he rose from the ground and made his way to the now quiet horses. The bay was the first one he reached and the reins were quickly clutched in his sweat soaked palm.

"Okay, boy. You're gonna make up for the trouble you caused, right here and right now." Starsky led the mount to the tree that was holding Hutch up, and selected a sturdy branch on which to secure the reins. In order for plan B to work, there could be no chance of the horse bolting again. That done, he raced back to the side of the cliff.

"Hutch, I got it, I got plan B," he shouted as loudly as he could. "Hutch can you hear me?"

"I can hear you," the blond answered, his voice tight with fear and pain.

"Okay, good. I'm gonna lift the rope high, as high as I can and you gotta push up, and walk those hands for me. It's real important, 'cause I need your help. I'm not sure I can do this without it."

"I'll do it Starsk, just please, please hurry."

Starsky returned to the horse and dropped to the ground by the rope. Using strength he didn't know he had, he lifted the rope that was strung taut with his partner's weight an inch at a time. Slowly, painstakingly slow, he gained on the rope and managed to get it lifted high enough to slip his shoulders underneath it. He paused for a few precious seconds to gain some breath back, then heaved himself to his knees. The pain against his shoulders was excruciating as the rope dug in, but still he held on and shouted with all his might. "Hutch, now! Now! Give me a few inches, come on, a few more inches."

The rope loosened slightly and he knew Hutch was trying to climb backwards with his hands, giving them the room they had to have. One more giant heave and Starsky was on his feet, holding the rope in two hands and across his shoulders like a weight lifter with a set of barbells. He eyed the saddle horn quickly, measuring his distance and knowing he only had one chance to not lose the rope and have to try again. Grimacing in pain, he inched his head and right shoulder free, over the top of the horn, allowing the rope to wrap partly over it.

The bay pawed the ground nervously.

Now it was up to his weakening hands and the horse. He had to get the creature to back up enough while he maneuvered the rope so that he could wrap it securely around the horn.

Somehow, from somewhere, their luck was turning, because with no effort on his part, the horse moved the necessary inches and Starsky quickly wrapped the rope around the horn several times, finding just enough slack to knot it as well.

His legs felt like Jell-O as he made his way back again to the side to explain what was going to happen to his injured partner. He hoped with all his heart that Hutch wouldn't see the potential flaw that could cost him his life. They had no other choice.

"Hutch, we're ready now, we're all set. I'm gonna pull you using the horse, and I've got the rope tied real secure, so all you have to worry about is moving your hands and keeping your head from banging on the rocks. Can you do that?"

"Hurry, I'm so sick." The weak reply from Hutch galvanized Starsky and he quickly returned to the horse.

"You owe me, big fellow, you owe me," he whispered as he cautiously untied the reins and climbed in the saddle.

Everything depended on what happened next. Starsky didn't allow himself to think of failure, because failure would mean Hutch's death. That was incomprehensible.

He carefully guided his mount to the tree, and reached for his pocket- knife. He held a death grip on the reins with his right hand and with his left, cut the rope on the tree that had been holding most of Hutch's weight. Now, he needed speed, and he smartly drove his heels to the flanks of the bay, refusing to believe that the horse would buck. Refusing to believe that he could be thrown or the rope could come unknotted. He simply moved.

"Yeow!" The bay reared briefly but Starsky held on and got him in a fast walk. The rope twisted and pulled but stayed tied. He couldn't allow himself the luxury of worrying about what the rough and fast pull up the hill was doing to Hutch right now. He had to just get him on solid ground and then he could tend to his injuries.

"Come on boy, move, move!" Behind him, he could hear Hutch's weak cries, and he felt every bang to his partner's body as if it was happening to himself. Another four feet, that's all it can be, that's all. Hang on Hutch.

The horse struggled against the dragging weight and the crazed rider controlling him, but ultimately Starsky won, and when he knew they'd completed at least five additional feet, he stopped the mount and looked over his shoulder.

Hutch was lying on the top of the ridge. Lying in a bleeding, crumpled heap.

Starsky jumped from the saddle and quickly cut the rope. He ran for Hutch, calling his name as he flew on legs suddenly energized and full of strength.

"Hutch! Hutch!" Starsky threw himself at Hutch's head and gently rolled him to his back. With infinite care, he managed to get Hutch propped up a little and his head resting against his own stomach. "I got ya now, I got ya," he crooned softly, taking a moment to appreciate the miracle they'd just been given.... He had his partner back. Bruised, bloody and battered though he was, he was alive.

"Hurts, Starsk..."

"I know. I know it does, but you're going to be fine. I'm gonna get you to a doctor and they'll get you all fixed up." Starsky was nearly babbling, as he grabbed the handkerchief from his back pocket and pressed it firmly to the gash on Hutch's forehead. Blood had streaked down the normally pale cheeks, now bright red from hanging upside down for so long. The blood mixed with sweat and tears to stain the cheeks a lighter pink.

"Ahhhh," the blond groaned, reaching an arm up to try and pull Starsky's hand away from the wound that now throbbed worse with the pressure being applied to it. "Stop. Stop, please...hurts."

Starsky caught the flailing hand and held it tight. "Gotta do it babe, its bleeding kind of bad." He continued to bear down gently but firmly as his eyes scanned the rest of Hutch's body for injuries. "How's your leg? That still hurting?"

"It's kind of numb now, stomach hurts though, ribs I think." Hutch groaned again, and the red color that had been blazing on his cheeks faded to gray. "I'm gonna be sick."

Hurriedly, Starsky rolled him to his side, and gently rubbed his back while Hutch writhed with nothing but dry heaves, the contents of his stomach already emptied during his terrifying suspension. "Easy, Hutch, try and take some breaths for me. Deep ones, okay?" Starsky's stomach was rolling, too, worry and strain causing a river of adrenaline to course through his system. He had no idea how seriously Hutch was hurt, and knew that he couldn't do much for him on the ridge. They had to get back to the ranch.

"Hutch? Do you think you can stand if I help you? I need to get you to a doctor and those damn horses are still here, thank God. They're gonna take us back to the ranch. Can you stand?"

"I'll try."

"Good, buddy, okay let me do all the work." Starsky got to his feet and reached down to hook his elbows beneath Hutch's underarms. When he had him in a sitting position, he waited until Hutch had a chance to catch his breath and get on top of the dizziness that increased with the change in position.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

"Here we go," Starsky wrapped his arms low around Hutch's waist, mindful of the possibly injured ribs, and hauled him to his feet. "I got ya, you okay? Can you put any weight on your leg?"

Hutch tried, but let out a hiss of pain as his hurt leg began to buckle. "Shit!"

"Hey, hey, it's okay. We can do this on three legs, just put your arm around my shoulder." Starsky tightened his grip and half-drug, half-walked Hutch to the horses. "Stay calm now boys, that nasty old snake that spooked ya before is long gone." He reached for both sets of reins with his free hand, marveling that the horses that only a short time before had been panicked, enraged beasts, were once again the steady mounts they'd been riding for their tenure on the ranch.

"Grab the horn, Hutch, I'm gonna help you mount."

Hutch noticed something as Starsky reached for his good leg. "Starsk, your arm. You're hurt."

"That's nothin' blondie, let's just worry about gettin' you in this saddle. Remember, let me do the work." It took three tries, but finally Hutch was mounted. He sat unsteady and shaking, but he was in the saddle.

Starsky appraised his condition and made a decision. Quickly he found the rope still lying on the ground and finding his pocket- knife again, he cut two lengths. "Partner, I'm gonna just secure you to the saddle. You're lookin' a little wobbly to me."

Hutch made no protest as Starsky wrapped one length around his waist and fastened it to the saddle horn. The other length was wrapped around his uninjured ankle and secured to the stirrup. He gathered up the reins to Hutch's horse and walked him closer to the bay. Once Starsky was mounted, he let out a sigh of relief. "I'll have you back to the ranch in no time."

~*~

No time turned out to be foolishly optimistic on Starsky's part. The two miles back to the ranch were slow and infinitely painful for both partners. Hutch physically, and Starsky, both physically and emotionally. The physical was manageable even though the throb in his arm made leading Hutch's horse difficult and awkward, but it was the mental strain that was the worst.

His worry for Hutch increased with each minute, and he wondered over and over as the blond tried to stifle his moans of pain, and seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness, if he was doing the right thing in trying to get to the ranch. Several times he had to dismount and steady Hutch back in his seat, when he was close to tumbling out and only the rope around his waist restrained him. But he couldn't leave him and go for help alone. He just couldn't. Hutch was too weak, too vulnerable and unable to protect himself if anything were to happen while Starsky was gone. So they pressed on.

Dimly, Starsky wondered where Hutch's magnum and holster were, then chided himself for the thought. Obviously both were lying in the bottom of the ravine, shaken loose when Hutch was pendulous for so long.

After close to an hour, Starsky saw the gate to Red Rose in the near distance, and his relief was a palpable thing. "Almost there, Hutch, just a little bit more."

"I'm okay, Starsk," the injured man spoke tiredly, as if trying to bring some ease to his worried partner.

"I know you are and you're gonna be even more okay, as soon as I get you inside and on something comfortable. Then we'll get you to a doctor."

Finally, they cleared the gate and made their way to the hitching post. Starsky looked all around for one of the hands but no one was in sight. Where the hell is everybody, he thought as he slipped from the saddle and hurriedly tied the reins to the horses on the post. Then he reached for Hutch.

"We made it partner, now I just gotta cut you loose and get you down." Starsky rubbed the dirty, jean clad leg secured to the stirrup for a few moments then cut the ropes that bound his friend to the saddle. Hutch sagged and would have hit the ground without Starsky there to catch him.

"Whoa, you trying to take the express train there?" Starsky kidded to cover his nervousness. "Let me set the pace, would ya?"

"You get real bossy when I'm a little banged up, Starsk," Hutch gasped out painfully, grateful for the security of his partner's arms holding him up.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm a real nag. Now lets get you inside, blondie."

"Wrong way," Hutch started when he saw which way they were heading. "Bunk house, is, is...back there."

"We're going to the main house, I want you on that nice soft couch while I use the phone. Plus, Roy and Jenny can help me patch you up until the ambulance gets here. Now wrap your arm around my shoulder tight as you can."

They progressed slow and steady to the front door of the great house, Hutch leaning heavily on his friend, and breathing harshly as the stabbing pain in his ribs and legs and the throb of his head threatened to overwhelm him. Starsky got the door opened and kicked it to clear a wide path for their entrance, when Hutch gave a little cry and his legs buckled under him.

Starsky said nothing, just held him up and then reached an arm under Hutch's knees. With no small effort, he carried the larger man through the foyer and across the living room until he reached the couch and was able to gently lay his partner down. "There ya go buddy, now you can rest," Starsky said as soon as he was able to catch his breath. He was close to complete exhaustion.

"Sorry, Starsk. My legs d-didn't want to g-go anymore," Hutch tried to speak clearly, but the dizziness and nausea, combined with the pain he was in was causing his voice to slur and shake.

"Hey, none of that now, that's what ya got a partner for," Starsky cast worried eyes on the prone form, thinking of all the things that they could be facing with Hutch's condition. Concussion? Broken ribs? Internal injuries? Shock? God, how hurt are ya, pal?

Shock was foremost in his mind as he cast about the room for a blanket and pillow. There weren't any in the elegantly appointed room, so Starsky grabbed the back of one sofa cushion and used that to elevate Hutch's feet. He wanted to get a look at his stomach and then he could find the blankets and bandages he needed. Wait, what am I forgetting? Oh shit, the ambulance, gotta call them first.

Starsky kneeled by his friend and captured one bloodied swollen hand in his own gently. "I'm gonna go call for an ambulance and get you some water and a blanket. Can you just lay still and rest for a few minutes? I won't be long."

"Sure. I'm fine now." The weak voice unsettled Starsky even more, and he nodded, hurrying to his feet to get Hutch the help he needed.

Starsky ran for the kitchen, knowing that at least Martha would be home and could help him gather the necessary supplies. The kitchen was warm and fragrant with the smell of fresh bread when he entered it. Involuntarily his stomach rumbled, reminding him of how long it had been since he'd eaten. The cook was there, rinsing something at the sink.

"Martha, boy am I glad to see you. Where the hell is everyone else?"

The cook looked up, startled by the presence of the filthy, out of breath man. "What happened to you?" She demanded.

"Never mind that now, my partner's been hurt, and I need to call an ambulance and get some bandages, water...everything, blankets. He's not lookin' so good. Where's Roy?"

"Calm down young man, getting excited won't make the things you need appear any faster. You're a policeman. You should know that. Roy and Jenny aren't back from the dentist yet, and they're picking up supplies too. Now what do you need?"

"I need to call an ambulance first, then I have to get him covered and his head cleaned and bandaged. Check his other wounds." Starsky was fighting the urge to yell. Didn't she see the urgency?

"I'm sure it's not all that serious, so you should calm down."

Her words infuriated Starsky, as did her undeniably cold demeanor. She hadn't even seen Hutch. "Listen ma'am, it's plenty serious, now can you tell me where I can find the things I need, and I gotta use the phone."

Martha crossed her arms over her large bosom; she seemed to be taking a long time responding to the cop whose nerves were on edge.

"Martha, please!"

"I think you should calm down, Dave. I'll call for an ambulance, and you'll find the things you need in the hall closet next to the small bathroom. There's a basin there for water."

"Thank you." Starsky left the kitchen quickly, feeling a small sense of relief that at least the ambulance would soon be here. He only hoped that the hospital dispatching it wouldn't be too far from the country ranch.

The tired cop gratefully opened the closet door to find a treasure trove of things he needed for Hutch. His arms were soon full with small towels, a box of bandages and a bottle of peroxide, a large blanket, and on top of it all, a small basin of water that he had filled in the bathroom. He balanced it all carefully as he made his way back to the living room.

Hutch was lying almost on his side when Starsky approached the couch and set his bundles down. The blond was dragging ragged breaths through his slightly parted mouth. His eyes were pinched tightly closed and his complexion had gone the color of milk. "Hey partner, I'm back," Starsky said gently. "I've got some stuff here that's gonna make you feel better and the ambulance is on its way."

Hutch nodded but kept his eyes closed. He stifled a groan as Starsky maneuvered his shoulders until he was again lying flat on his back. All movement caused the dizziness to flair worse, and he had to bite his lip against the pounding in his temple. "Your heads still hurtin' real bad, isn't it? Starsky asked as he spread the warm blanket over Hutch's legs and up to his waist. His only answer was a brief nod.

"You're gonna feel better soon, I promise." Starsky dropped to his knees and smoothed some of the tangled blond hair off his partner's warm forehead. Fever, he thought but didn't mention to Hutch. "Okay, first thing we're gonna do is get this shirt off you, 'cause it's filthy, and you're gonna mess up this beautiful couch that you're being lazy all over."

"I'll laugh tomorrow, Starsk."

"Course you will, my jokes stay with a guy. Just keep on being lazy and let me get it off you." Starsky worked the buttons quickly and opened the torn fabric, wanting to get a look at how banged up his friends stomach possibly was before he treated his head injury. He had to raise Hutch slightly to pull his arms free of the shirt, then he tossed it to the floor and tried to gauge the seriousness in the cluster of bruises over Hutch's ribcage.

"You're pretty colorful here, pal," Starsky ran gentle fingers over the purple and green marks covering mainly Hutch's right side and lower belly. Hutch wasn't exhibiting any of the classic signs of internal bleeding that Starsky knew of, but still it was what he feared might be happening. "Does it hurt real bad?"

"Not as bad as my head."

"Yeah, that's the worst?" Starsky drew the blanket high onto Hutch's shoulders. There was nothing he could do about the injuries to his stomach, the doctor would have to treat those, but he could clean and bandage the head wound.

"Think so, it's pounding bad."

"I'm gonna get it cleaned and bandaged now. Maybe even give that handsome mug of yours a bath. I'd like to see if I can find your skin under all that dirt." Starsky knew instinctively that his teasing felt good to Hutch, the banter said things would be okay no matter how much he hurt.

Starsky dipped a small towel into the warm water, wringing it out slightly. He brought the cloth to the gash first. He started slow and very softly, but still Hutch cried out. "Easy, buddy. I gotta get the dirt out of the cut, but I'll go as gently as I can."

"S'kay, I know you do." Hutch gritted his teeth as the cloth swept back and forth across the raw gash. "Where is everyone anyway?" He asked, wanting a distraction from the burning sensation that the cloth was bringing him.

"Jen and Roy are out getting supplies, only Martha's here." Starsky selected another towel and soaked it with peroxide. Quickly he pressed it against the now clean wound, grimacing as Hutch moaned. "You should have heard her," he babbled, unnerved by the pain he was causing his friend. "She's a weird one, partner. Even lectured me on staying calm since I was a cop, and cops are supposed to be calm, or some shit like that."

"Maybe we're the only cops she knows," Hutch offered, fighting the tears that threatened to spill out.

"At least she kept our cover, if she'd been a chatty type with the men, we could have been in trouble." Starsky bathed Hutch's dirty face with another cloth, bringing some comfort to the injured man.

Hutch relaxed a little as the cloth covered his cheeks and neck gently, taking dirt and dried blood off him, and soothing his hot skin. "Yeah, that was something good at least. After all, she's the only besides Roy, who knew what we were here for."

The cloth was stilled. "That's right, she was," Starsky sat back a little on his heels, rubbing a hand under his chin. "She was also the only one who knew about Jen's dentist appointment."

"That's right," Hutch tried to sit up, but Starsky absentmindedly pushed him back down. "Stay still."

"Starsk, do you think?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe what officers?" The harsh female voice startled both men, but not as much as the sound of a gun being cocked that came next. "Maybe I'm the one you've been looking for all along?"

Starsky put a steadying hand on Hutch's chest. "Why, Martha," he asked, turning around to face their adversary.

"Just stay right there, Dave. I know how to use this gun, don't think for a second that I don't or that I'd hesitate to kill either one of you."

"Okay. I'm not moving and neither is my partner, but he's hurt bad, real bad. Right now I don't care why you did it, but I still need to get him to the hospital as fast as possible, and I know now that you didn't call an ambulance, did you?"

"Of course I didn't. I'm not stupid, cop."

"You kill a cop, and it's as stupid as it gets," Starsky spat out. "You go to jail forever, no parole. Put the gun down before you make a mistake you can't get back."

"Sit down, Dave," the woman almost laughed. "You really must think I'm stupid. Do you have any idea how much planning went into this? You're not going to spoil it for me."

"Listen to me Martha, please," Starsky glanced at Hutch, before fixing his eyes on the cook. "My partner is badly injured, and he has to get to the hospital because I think he may be bleeding inside. Now you call an ambulance and let him leave safely, and you can do anything you want with me."

"Starsky," Hutch moaned, trying again to sit up. "No!"

"Shut up, Hutch, and lay still. I got this handled. Martha and I are going to reach an understanding."

The cook laughed again, harsher this time. "You're the stupid one! Neither one of you are going anywhere."

The sound of a door banging open was followed by the soprano giggles of a young girl close by. Martha swung round to stare at the foyer and Starsky saw his chance. He quickly grabbed the basin and threw the contents of dirty, bloodied water into the cook's face.

Martha dropped the gun as the foul water hit her full force in both her open mouth and eyes. "Arghhhhh," she screamed. Starsky dove for her, leveling her to the ground in a full body tackle.

"What the hell's going on here!" Roy shouted from the entrance to the living room, Jennifer's hand clutched tightly in his own.

"I'll tell you all about it, Roy," Starsky panted, pinning Martha's hands behind her back. "Just as soon as you call an ambulance for my partner, and the police to come pick up your cook."

~*~

"I still don't get it, Starsk," Hutch commented, shifting carefully to one side to allow his partner more room to perch on the hospital bed.

"That's because you have a head injury," Starsky allowed, passing him a section of orange from the fruit he had just peeled. "See if you can get this down, it's good for you."

Hutch popped the fruit in his mouth, wincing at the discomfort in his side as he moved his arm. "Thanks," he said, chewing thoughtfully.

Starsky pulled off another orange section, hoping he'd be able to convince his partner to eat that one as well. He looks like he's been through a war, he thought, taking in the neat row of sutures along the side of Hutch's head, and the two black eyes, which he knew were a result of the head injury. Underneath the covers, of course, bruises to Hutch's legs, and his side were beginning to rival a technicolored movie print, bruises blooming in bright hues which seemed to cover all the colors in the rainbow. "Another one," he offered, passing the orange along as Hutch swallowed. "Good for you, come on."

Hutch accepted the fruit, and nodded. "Just how bad do I look?" he asked his partner.

"You look fine," Starsky assured him. "Come on, eat that." He pushed Hutch's hand in the vague direction of the blond's mouth. He placed his own hand on his partner's forehead. "Think your fever's down today. Honest, Hutch, you look fine."

"Yeah, right. I feel like I fell off a cliff," Hutch snorted in the vague approximation of a laugh, which was all his broken ribs, would allow. "And I'll bet I look worse than that."

"Hey, you know what?"

"What?"

"You're beautiful." Starsky said firmly. "You're alive, you're gonna be okay, we caught the bad guy...girl...whatever...and that's all that matters. You want me off the bed?" he added. "I can sit on the chair over there instead if--"

"No, you're fine," Hutch assured him. "But I still don't get it."

"Okay," Starsky began patiently. He reached to the fruit basket and selected another piece. "Let's have a banana," he suggested, peeling it quickly and breaking off half for his partner. "Okay, the galloping gourmet..."

"Martha."

"Right, Martha," Starsky agreed.

"I'm sorry, Starsk," Hutch scrubbed at his face tiredly. "The painkillers make me fuzzy. And my nose itches."

"S'okay," Starsky gave him a pat. "Okay, Martha is the sister of the owner of the biggest chain of restaurants in Northern California."

"The Cow Palace." Hutch blinked tiredly.

"Right, The Cow Palace." Starsky grinned down at his partner. "Very good," he praised.

Hutch made a face. "Go on."

"Now the plan was, trying to get Martha's son into office as a County official. Different last name from the Cow Palace guy, and they made up this whole fake background. In the meantime, the brother..."

"The Cow Palace guy?"

"Right, the Cow Palace guy, he's busy splitting up his assets under a bunch of different holding companies, one of which is owned by this Martha person, only," he stuffed the last of the banana in his mouth, "using another different last name so nobody'd know. You with me so far?"

Hutch rubbed his nose again. "Think so."

"But when Roy found out about this, and told them flat out he wasn't going to accept the bribes..."

"They knew that the only way to get to him was through Jenny," Hutch finished.

"Right!" Starsky exclaimed. "You might make detective yet, Blondie."

"Anybody home?" came Roy's voice from the doorway. "Hey, guys!" He leaned back out the door, checking the hallway, then pushed Jenny into the room ahead of him. "Quick," he said, "before that nurse comes back." He shrugged his shoulders. "She's under twelve and all that," he explained, "but she wanted to see you..."

Jenny approached the bed carefully, staring at Hutch timidly. "Hi, Hutch," she said in a small voice. "I'm sorry you got hurt..."

"Hi honey," Hutch reached out his hand to squeeze her shoulder. "Can't give you a hug right now, but I sure am glad to see you."

"Hey," Starsky scooped her up, holding her tightly as her arms wound around his neck. "I can hug you enough for both of us," he said. "How you doin' schweetheart?"

"Doin' good," she said shyly, laying her head on his shoulder. She was, however, unable to keep her eyes off Hutch's face, the extent of the injuries clearly frightening to her. "Does it hurt much?" she asked.

"Not too much," Hutch tried to reassure her. "Honest."

"See this?" Starsky reached down and picked up Hutch's hand. He ran his thumb lightly over the tape that covered the IV catheter. "This looks scary, but," he set Hutch's hand down and pointed to the IV bag hanging from a pole at the head of the bed. "Up there in that bag is some pain medicine, and it comes right down this little tube here, and right into Hutch's arm," he explained. "So he doesn't have to swallow pills that way, and the medicine's always going in."

Jenny nodded against his shoulder. Hutch reached up and squeezed her hand, and exchanged a look with his partner.

Starsky nodded and placed a hand on the top of Hutch's head, turning it very slightly toward him. "See here?" he asked Jenny softly. "These are stitches, this is how the doctors make sure that Hutch's brain stays inside his head. 'Cause just between you and me, he can't afford to lose any."

"Mushbrain," muttered Hutch, although he was smiling, and Jenny responded with a giggle.

"I wish I could hug you," she said wistfully. "Is there any place that doesn't hurt?"

Hutch thought for a moment, and finally pointed to a spot in front of his right ear. "I'm pretty good there," he offered.

Starsky stood and carefully flipped the little girl down, holding her aloft over the bed, and she kissed Hutch lightly in the place he had indicated.

"You know what?" Hutch asked her, as Starsky sat down, settling Jenny on his lap once again.

"What?"

"You actually made me feel better," he grinned. "Thank you."

"No, oh, here, by the way," Roy interrupted. He handed Hutch an envelope, which Hutch immediately slid beneath the covers on his opposite side, acknowledging the transaction with a nod. Roy smiled and continued. "You made us better. I don't know how we'll ever be able to thank you."

Starsky grinned at him. "You don't have to thank us," he said. "It's part of our jobs, and besides," he winked at the ranch owner, "I got to beat Hutch at barrel racing. I should be thanking you."

"What's even better is," Hutch cut in. "We made some new friends, and we're hoping they'll put us up when we come for the county fair this summer."

"You mean it?" Jenny squealed. "You'll come?"

"Wouldn't miss it, honey," Hutch said.

"Hey," Roy snapped his fingers. "Jen, remember we left a present for Hutch outside the door. You'd better go get it before someone else makes off with it."

"You brought me a present?"

"Okay," she said, sliding off Starsky's lap. She peered both ways out the door to make sure no one would notice her, and crept into the hallway. When she returned a few seconds later, her face was completely covered by a vase, which contained a massive arrangement of red roses. "These are for you, Hutch," she said, peering around the flower arrangement.

"Um," Hutch gulped. "Um..."

"It's tradition," Roy said. "Red roses from the Red Rose."

"Starsk..." Hutch gulped again, and rubbed furiously at his eyes.

"Yeah, Hutch?" Starsky answered, picking up a magazine from the table next to the bed. "Whaddya need?"

"Starsky, those are..."

"Hm?" He smiled indulgently at his partner, then looked at Roy. "The pain medication is making him fuzzy."

"Starsky," Hutch said tensely. "I'm not fuzzy, I'm allergic."

"Oh yeah...." Starsky nodded at him. "He's right," he said to Jenny and Roy. "Couple of weeks ago we were undercover in this flower shop, and he..."

Hutch blinked furiously through teary eyes. "Starsk, come on..." he hissed. "Broken ribs here, pain, you know..."

Starsky looked down at him. "Oh." He said. "Oh. Okay. Well...what's it worth to you, Blintz?"

Hutch wiped at his eyes again, and without a word, pulled the packet of pictures Roy had given him from under the covers, handing them to his partner.

"Negatives in there?" Starsky asked Roy.

"Yup," the ranch owner answered with a grin and a nod.

"Thanks, partner, I figured you'd see it my way." Starsky patted him on the shoulder.

Hutch sat up. "You're a dead man, Starsky," he said furiously.

Starsky moved toward the door, pushing Jenny and the huge bouquet toward the hallway. "Come on, kid," he said, "Let's go find a lonely patient to visit with and give these to." He flashed a grin at his partner. "Be back shortly," and he sailed out the doorway singing. "Paper Roses...Paper Roses..."

"Hey, Hutch," Roy said quietly. He patted his pocket. "Worry not. Double prints."

THE END

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