Chapter Four:

The ranch was indeed what the name implied. It was a working ranch with cattle, horses, dogs and cowboys, both prisoners and guards. Ron had explained that he inherited the ranch from his father’s brother when he died. Ron left the Navy after twelve years and they moved there for two years trying to make a go of ranching. When it was obvious that Ron and Fanny couldn’t manage without more help and they couldn’t hire more help because of money constraints, Ron applied to the L.A. police department to become a cop. His mother and father lived in L.A. and since his daughters had already missed seeing their grandparents while living at his commands, Ron decided to close up the ranch and move there.

After ten years of arresting many of the same people he’d arrested before, Ron and Fanny talked about applying to make the ranch a prison. They had kept it as a place to visit during his vacations and the family enjoyed being there away from the stress of city living. Ron wanted it to actively become a place for rehabilitation, not just a place for incarceration. Ron felt he could help break the criminal cycle if the prisoners could be managed one on one instead of handled like cattle.

It took Ron only six months to convince a Federal Board to fund the project. He was backed by several L.A. judges and his Chief of Police who were as tired as he was at seeing the same people return to the courts. The Federal judge he was appointed to was reluctant at first, but when the rate of returnees to prison dropped dramatically for those sent to Randa Ranch, he began to enthusiastically back Ron’s program.

Hando listened to Ron’s accounting without comment. He'd already come to the conclusion that Randa Ranch might be easier to break out of than a regular prison, given the open space and more relaxed attitude. He didn’t know it then, but his future was about to be laid before him and his choices would change his life forever.

Ron and Hando arrived at the Wyoming prison late in the afternoon. It was nearing the end of January and the weather was cold.

They arrived in the prison bus, provided by the sheriff's office. Ron thanked the driver and led Hando to the warden’s house. As they opened the door they heard, "Ron! God, I’m glad you’re home." A very pretty woman around fifty, with red hair and brilliant blue eyes greeted them. They hugged and kissed.

"Jon, I want you to meet your Aunt Fanny." Ron was beaming and still had his arm around the woman’s waist.

"We’re happy you came, Jon." Even though he had handcuffs on she offered her hand and for once in his life he accepted. Her hand was warm and dry. They weren’t soft hands, they were working hands. She had a firm grip and Hando wondered if everyone in Ron’s family was as comfortable about touching as those he’d already met.

For Hando, touching fell into strict categories. He would touch in order to gain attention. There was touch for accomplishing sex, and there was touch for conveying anger. Short of those forms, the only person he touched for the purpose of conveying affection was Davey. He would on occasion, hug Davey and kiss him on his shaved head. Davey was the closest thing Hando had, to a brother. It still hurt, that Davey had betrayed him. He was the one person Hando had trusted with his life.

The day the riot happened, they had all run to save their lives. The fuckin’ little slant-eyes had come in droves to beat and maim. When it was apparent they would break into the abandoned business Hando’s gang used as home, Hando was the only one who was willing to stand his ground. If a lesson was to be conveyed, then let it be that he stood by his convictions. When Davey asked him with his eyes, not to, Hando was disappointed in his weakness. When he saw the same fear and weakness in the rest of them, he had to make the decision to leave. He couldn’t fight all the gooks alone and he was responsible for the gang as well. So they fled, like sheep from a dingo. It disgusted and disappointed Hando. Somehow he was the only one willing to fight for what he believed, to the death if necessary.

Ron took Hando down to the bunk house and showed him his bunk. There were twelve other men there and Ron announced as he took off the cuffs, "Men, this is Jon Carver. Make him welcome." He turned to Hando and said quietly, "I already explained the ground rules, make sure you don’t forget them. Get a good night's sleep and I’ll see you in the morning."

Hando rubbed his wrists and watched as Ron walked out the door. All his bunk mates were watching him. One particularly big man walked over and extended his hand. "Jim Cromwell."

Hando stared at him and refused the hand. "Hando," was all he said.

The rest of the men were watching for a reaction from ‘Crom’. He just laughed, "Well, another hard core. What a surprise!" He walked away and went back to the card game he was involved with.

The lights went out at nine o’clock in the bunk house. Hando lay in bed thinking about the situation he was in. On the flight to Wyoming, Ron had explained the difficulty in escaping the ranch. The natural lay of the land was fairly open, but the ranch itself was pocketed in a bowl. There were steep cliffs that rose straight up and only one way to enter or leave through a canyon, so narrow, the Jeep barely squeaked through. During the day the prisoners herded cattle and mended fences or worked in the sheds that housed the gardens that provided their staples. Each one was given a horse and was expected to care for it personally. The ‘guards’ lived in their own bunk house and rotated shifts at the entrance to the canyon bowl. Otherwise they were sent to watch their assigned prisoners during the day to make certain their work was done correctly and no one tried to leave.

Ron made it clear that if anyone were to try to escape, they had to travel a hundred and fifty miles in all directions to reach even the smallest civilized convenience. The escapee would not be returned to the ranch, once captured, he would simply be transported to his original maximum security prison. "One fuck up and you’re gone, got it?"

Hando wandered back to the last conversation he had with his grandmother. She was pressing him for information about his childhood. It was infuriating the way she always turned the tables on him, using his fears to get him to reveal himself. "So what sort of name is Hando?"

"It’s nothing. Something I made up." He was pacing the sitting room like a caged animal.

"Really? Your mother wrote me once and told me when you were just learning to talk, you had a hard time saying Randa, it came out Hando instead. She said she called you that when you were being bad. It was your ‘bad boy’ name. Do you remember that?"

"No." He did remember. She used it until her last breath. "Don’t be Hando, Jon, be my sweet Jonny and I promise I’ll be with you always." It was the last thing she had said to him before dying. His father hadn’t even come to the hospital. Jon was taken home by a policeman who waited until his father arrived. When Willem Carver was told of his wife’s death, he said nothing; he just took Jon into their caravan and told him to go to bed. Jon remembered well how he’d cried himself to sleep that night. He remembered being lost and alone. That feeling had never gone away.

"I think perhaps Jon remembers even if Hando doesn’t want to."

"Don’t try to analyze me. It’s been done before." He thought about the endless questions he was asked by a psychologist who was studying the ‘skinheads’ and their society. She came to the jail looking for information for her thesis. He grinned thinking how he’d sent her packing by asking if she wanted to fuck him right there in the jail. He could explain things while doing things to her naked body that she would never forget. The funny thing was, she would have if the guard hadn’t walked in and announced that her time was over.

"I don’t care to analyze you." His grandmother’s voice brought him back from the reverie. "I just want to know how you feel about certain things."

"What things?" He was willing to explain his thoughts on "Mien Kampf" Hitler’s masterpiece. He would explain Hitler’s genius in voicing the obvious. She must care about that, the tattoo she carried would bare that out.

"I want to know if you loved your mother." The lid closed down on Hando’s eyes. It was like a shield that dropped into place. Until that last question, she had managed to keep him from completely closing off. Even though he didn’t want to, he shared tiny bits and pieces. His reactions to some of her questions told the story without words.

He stopped pacing, looked away and refused to comment.

"She loved you so very much. None of us knew what was happening until it was too late. She wrote and told us the cancer had spread too far for treatment. Her only concern was for you. She asked that we keep in contact with your father even though he made it clear he wanted nothing to do with us, Ron in particular. Did he ever tell you about the problem between them?"

Hando thought for a moment and answered her with obvious hate. "Yes, he told me once that my American family disowned my mother for marrying him. He said they looked down on Aussies." He remembered asking why and received a bloody lip for his impertinence.

"You believed him?"

Hando glared at her, "Well, I didn’t see her family at the funeral."

"Jon, we didn’t even know she died until several days after the funeral. Your father told Ron we weren’t welcome. We had a memorial service for her here."

They stayed that way for several minutes, Hando thinking about how lost and afraid he’d been after his mother…he still couldn’t think about it without cringing at the aftermath of her leaving him.

"Your father was abusive." It was a statement not a question. He’d mentioned it to her before, but Hando wouldn’t expand. She could see the play on his face.

Hando had enough of the questions and prying. He turned to leave but she caught his hand. "Tell me what he did."

"No." He tried to pull from her grasp. He could have easily enough, she was so old and frail the hold she had was light compared to the manhandling he was used to with the police. He wanted to pull away, but somehow her hold was not physical, it was emotional. He didn’t want to give into those feelings; it would lead to places he didn’t want revealed.

"Please, Jonny." When she said his name that way it was like hearing his mother again. He missed her so many times over the last eighteen years, but never more than now. The pictures of his mum and the love this old woman exuded turned back the clock.

He didn’t realize it at first, but there were tears slipping down his face. "You don’t want to know and I don’t want to remember."

"He raped you, didn’t he?"

Hando suddenly slipped back to that first time his father violated him. It was frightening and painful, terribly painful. His father was drunk and angry, raving about how his mother was a useless bitch in life and left him with a worthless, useless problem to take care of. When it was over, he beat Jon unmercifully and passed out. It took Jon several days to recover from the abuse, and his father kept him locked in their dirty trailer the entire time, away from prying eyes.

Hando finally came back to the present and found himself on his knees with his head in his Grandmother’s lap. She was gently stroking his head and crying with him, "I’m so sorry, Jon. I only wish we’d known. We would have fought to bring you here."

Her kind words were like a knife. They slashed through the callousness of his wounded heart. He stood up and glared at her, angry for showing his weakness. "It wouldn’t have made a difference. I’m Hando not Jonny." He stormed out of the room and went to lie down in his bed. For the first time since his father raped him, he cried himself to sleep.

Chapter Five:

The banging on a steel triangle heralded the new day. Each of the cowboy/prisoners crawled out of their bunks and began dressing for the day. "Wonder where we’re going today?"

Troy Jamison had been trying to get to know Hando. They slept in the same set of bunks, Jon on the top, Troy on the bottom. He was a slender man around twenty-nine, but looked much younger. He wasn’t handsome, but his bright blue eyes and perpetual smile would appeal to women. He had one of those faces that never gave up its youth. In fact, he was the only prisoner that Hando knew who seemed untouched by the situation. Troy had a need to be accepted and tried endlessly to please everyone. He had a soft heart and Hando couldn’t understand how he’d come to be in this place.

Cromwell wandered over. "Doesn’t matter where we’re going; it won’t be off the ranch."

Hando hadn’t mixed much with the others. He was waiting, biding his time. Crom was the unsaid leader. What he said went. Though he seemed easy enough to get along with Hando recognized a sadistic streak that marked his leadership. Hando had done things he was supposed to be ashamed for, but not once had he ever been vicious to animals. It was one of the things he’d been ragged about when he first became a ‘skin’.

He remembered his only friend after leaving his last foster family, was a stray dog. He was as skinny and ragged as Hando had been. They met when Hando woke up under a bridge with the dog lying next to him. They wandered the streets together for nearly a year before he joined the gang. When the leader announced he had to kill the dog to become a part of them, Hando refused. The gang beat Hando senseless, and killed the dog anyway. The next day Hando decided he would never allow himself to care about another living thing. But he never forgot that rag tag dog and remembered how the dog never betrayed him. Animals didn’t have it in them to turn on you unless they were sick. Even the times when he barely had enough to eat himself, the dog waited patiently for whatever Hando gave him.

Hando walked into the barn to saddle his horse. Carlyle was the nag of the ranch. He never acted as though he had energy and stood docile and quiet. The other men had made comments and laughed at Hando about riding Carlyle. He was the one horse that nobody wanted. It had taken Hando only a couple of weeks to become good at riding. What the others didn’t recognize in Carlyle was a latent energy. On one occasion, he had nearly dumped Hando in the dirt when he started off. The horse may not be fast but Hando was willing to believe he would last for the long run. Perhaps he would last long enough to carry Hando away from this place, to somewhere better. Hando hadn’t given up on the possibility that freedom was waiting somewhere in the hills to the north.

As he entered the stall, Hando heard a small whimpering sound and went to see what it was. On a mound of straw, in the corner of the stall, was Gretchen, the ranch's big Rottweiler bitch. She was in labor and already had three newly-born puppies nursing while she strained to deliver another. Hando was mesmerized by the birth. He’d never seen it before. He approached the big dog and talked quietly to her. She allowed him to sit next to her and touch the puppies. They were so tiny and made little squeaking sounds while they fed.

The last one arrived and Gretchen dutifully began breaking the membrane that held the puppy. He didn’t seem to be responding. He made no noise and lay quiet. Gretchen quit cleaning him and seemed to be more interested in the other pups.

Hando instinctively took off his flannel shirt, picked up the puppy, wrapped it in the shirt and began massaging it. All the while he told the tiny dog not to let life have its way. In a very short time, the baby began to respond. He made a small noise and began to move, slowly at first. Hando laughed and held the pup up to his face. "Little blighter!"

"So there she is!" Hando turned to see Fanny standing next to Carlyle. "I was wondering if she’d gone off to give birth. Gretchen never misses a meal." Fanny came and sat down next to Hando. "Well, since you rescued him, you get the privilege of naming him."

"What for?" She caught him with his guard down and he needed to rebuild his defenses.

"He’s your dog. You saved him. I know because Gretchen disposed of one of her last pups, the runt, because she didn’t respond. Nature is like that. You gave that extra bit and brought him around. If you save a life, it belongs to you until the debt is repaid."

Hando placed the puppy down next to an available tit and he latched on immediately.

"You know, it’s unusual for a dog Gretchen’s size to have only four pups. She usually has at least seven or eight. She’s been a mother four times now. I think maybe this will be her last litter." Fanny kept looking at Jon out the corner of her eye. She saw him draw the veil of privacy over his features. She’d seen it before with other prisoners. "Well, you’d better get to the chow hall or you’ll miss breakfast." She stood and smiled. Perhaps this was just what Jon needed to help him connect with his feelings.

Hando got up and turned to her. "Can I ask you something?" Hando had wondered about this since arriving. "Why has the warden got you living out here? You come and go as if these men were regular citizens. Anyone of them could kill you and take the jeep and leave. You shouldn’t be here."

"Well, thank you for your concern, Jon, but Ron and I both believe in this program. I want to be a part of it."

"Still, it’s no place for you." Hando looked back at the puppies and strode out. He hated to admit it, but he liked Fanny. She always had a smile on her face even when things weren’t going right. She worked like a man, yet kept a feminine aura. Ed Trundle mentioned at a card game how he’d like to take her out behind the barn. Hando said nothing but kept watch on Ed. If he so much as touched her…where did that come from? She wasn’t his problem. She shouldn’t be here in the first place.

A week later, Hando rode into the barn. It had been a long, cold, miserable day and he wanted to get Carlyle settled. He dismounted in front of the stall door and as he grabbed the handle he heard Gretchen begin to growl then bark. He watched as Crom went to grab for the runt. Gretchen just missed biting his hand. She stood up and the other three pups cried under her. Crom had an axe handle and was ready to use it on Gretchen. He hated the dog and she hated him. "Come at me, bitch, I’ll kill ya and tell them it was self-defense."

"Put the puppy down." Crom turned and saw Hando.

"Or what? You think you can take me, boy? Not on your best day!"

"Maybe, maybe not, but I have Gretchen on my side. Put the pup down."

Crom thought about it. He could kill the dog, he’d done it before, but handling both at the same time might prove too much. Besides, he had plans for leaving and he couldn’t do that if he was thrown into a maximum security prison for killing one of the prisoners. He deliberately dropped the puppy with a ‘plop’.

After Crom left, Hando went to see if Runt was alright. He carefully picked him up; he was shaking. Gretchen came and nuzzled her baby as Hando held him close to his chest. "Let’s go see what Fanny says."

The Randa’s house stood beyond a fence with barbed wire and electricity. It was the only real protection they had from the criminals they housed. He took the puppy to the gate and asked the guard if he could show the dog to Mrs. Randa. He let him through after calling Fanny to let her know.

She stepped out onto the porch of the ranch-style house. "What happened, Jon?"

"Runt got dropped. He’s shaking, I’m not sure if he’s hurt."

"How’d he get dropped?" She didn’t think Jon would deliberately hurt any of the animals. She had watched him since he arrived and he seemed to relate to animals far better than humans.

"Crom."

"Did he do it on purpose?" When he didn’t answer, she persisted, "If he did, I need to know." She waited a moment, "You’re not going to tell me are you? All right, but I’m still going to talk to Ron about it. I don’t want my dog or her pups hurt because of him." She began checking Runt. He didn’t seem hurt, only shaken. "I think he’s all right. He just needs something to eat and his brother and sisters' warmth." She handed the pup back to Hando, "How are you doing? Are you fitting in all right?"

"Sure," he said, "an Aussie skinhead among mostly American red necks. We’ve become very close."

Fanny laughed at his off-handed sarcasm. "Well, I suppose there isn’t much common ground. But you should at least realize that some of the men you live with are as adrift as you are; Troy Jamison, for instance. He’s had a hard life and ended up here as a last resort. If he doesn’t make it here he’s liable to spend the rest of his life in prison."

"Why do you care? Most of them aren’t worth crying over. They’d cut your throat for the chance to leave here. They look at you as weak and hope they’ll get the chance to show you how foolish you’ve been."

"If one in ten returns to society and makes a contribution, we feel we’re successful." She thought for a moment. "You know, there’s a fine line between being good and being evil, just as there is a fine line between love and hate. Sometimes we step on one side when we really intended to be on the other. We just try to see if it’s possible to cross back to the right side."

Hando thought a moment. "Well, thanks for looking at Runt." He turned and Fanny watched as he walked back to the gate between the prison area and the house.

That evening, Jon was reading in his bunk when Crom started riding him about his tattoos. "Why don’t you put on a shirt? Nobody wants to see your ‘artwork’, especially since the U.S. kicked Hitler’s ass. Stupid fuckin’ limey!"

"I’m not a bloody pom, you fuckwit." Hando said it conversationally but the insult was there.

Crom walked over to Hando’s bunk and stood looking directly at him, even though the bunk was six feet above the floor. "What did you call me?"

"A fuckwit," Hando looked directly into Crom’s eyes when he said it, "and if you don’t like the ‘artwork’, don’t look." Hando knew he had no allies and Crom held most of the men under his reign. Hando also knew Crom was still mad about the dog and wanted a reason to start a fight. They might as well get it over with. Crom would never let up until it was done. He was fairly certain that either he’d be beaten within an inch of his life or left alone. He was hoping for the latter.

Crom grabbed Hando by the hair and an arm. He did it so fast Hando had no chance to block him. Crom pulled him off the bunk with such force Hando literally flew through the air and landed halfway across the bunkroom. He hit the floor on his right side rolling several times before coming to rest against the table where four of the prisoners were playing cards. The men stood up and moved back.

Hando didn’t have a chance to recover before Crom crossed the room and kicked him in the ribs. Hando couldn’t even breathe let alone move. Crom reached down and hauled him up, looking directly into Hando’s eyes. "Don’t ever call me that again, limey."

"Fuckwit," Hando could barely get the word out.

Crom hit him with a right hook to the jaw and Hando saw stars as he collapsed to the floor. Crom kicked him again as hard as he could, this time in the groin. It was too much for him to take and Hando passed out.

Crom grabbed him pulling the unconscious man upright, intending to hit him again when Troy spoke up. "Crom, if you don’t stop you’ll kill him."

Crom turned on Troy, dropping Hando. He made a grab for him but Troy back peddled, "You’ll get yourself sent to maximum security. I’m just trying to keep you from going too far."

Crom stopped. He looked at Troy, then at Hando. "Get him into his bunk and keep your mouths shut." Several of the others picked Hando up and lifted him onto his bunk. He was sheet white and breathing raggedly. Troy checked him, realizing he probably had a broken rib. He was more concerned that he was bleeding in his groin. A friend of his died that way several years back. There was no way, however, that he was going to check Hando in that area. He opted to pull a blanket over his bunk mate and wish him well.

The next morning Troy helped Hando out of his bunk and offered to get him to the chow hall. He could barely breathe and walking was nearly impossible. He opted to stay in the bunk house until time to go saddle Carlyle.

Ron realized Jon hadn’t come to breakfast and went to see why. He found Jon sitting on one of the chairs at the table, with his back to the door.

"Didn’t anyone teach you to always face a door? Why aren’t you at breakfast?"

"Not hungry."

Jon didn’t sound right and Ron moved around to the other side of the table. He saw the busted lip and swollen jaw, and immediately asked, "What happened?"

"I fell off Carlyle."

"Bullshit, Jon. What happened? Who did this?"

"Carlyle didn’t mean to. It was an accident."

Ron knew it was hogwash, but he also knew pressing Jon for answers wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He grabbed Jon under the arm and forced him to stand. When Jon nearly passed out, he called for one of the guards to come and help him.

They got Jon to the house and when Ron and the guard started to put him in the ‘hospital’ room, Fanny told Ron to put him in Eileen’s room instead. Ron hesitated, "I have my reasons for putting him there. I’ll explain later." They got her patient into the bed and she did a quick evaluation, then, went to tell Ron.

"I think we should keep him here for a few days. I can bind his broken rib and bring down the swelling on his face, but he has a groin injury he isn’t willing to let me see. If he’s bleeding there we need to get him to the hospital."

Ron went in to look at Jon’s other injury. Hando fought him for a moment, more for his own dignity than anything else. Ron finally managed to get Jon’s pants off and looked at the injury. His crotch was black and blue and everything was swollen. "Fanny is going to need to see this to decide if you need to go to the hospital. I don’t want any argument, understand?"

"I don’t want her looking at me there."

"Jon, Fanny’s a nurse; she’s seen plenty of men. It’s part of her job."

Hando pleaded, nearly begged, but in the end Ron won.

Fanny came back in and drew the covers back. Hando lay there with his eyes closed. He couldn’t watch as she looked at him.

Fanny knew he was embarrassed and quickly checked him then covered him. "I don’t think there is any extensive damage, but you won’t be riding Carlyle for a while."

When Hando didn’t say anything she touched his face. "I’m sorry, Jon, but it was necessary to make sure you weren’t bleeding inside. I’ll get an ice pack and be back in a minute."

When she returned, Fanny slipped an ice pack between his legs and made him sit up while she bound his broken rib. Once she finished, he lay back down and she put ointment on his lip and an ice pack on his face. She went to get some Tylenol and water.

"Here, take this," she said, handing him the pills and a glass of water.

He did as he was told and handed her the glass back. His skin was cold when she touched his arm, and she got another blanket to cover him. She checked on him several times during the day and satisfied herself that he wasn’t bad enough to take to the hospital.

Ron could see Crom’s handiwork when he checked Jon. After making sure Jon was going to be all right, he went to the barn looking for Crom.

"Crom! I want a word with you." Ron was standing in front of Crom, his guard and four of his men. "The tack room, now!"

"What’s up, warden?" Crom knew exactly what was ‘up’. If Hando snitched on him, either he or one of his men would make sure Hando had an accident.

As Crom stepped into the tack room Ron grabbed him and threw him across the small room and slammed the door. "Don’t fuck with me, Crom. I’m one step from sending you to Raiford already."

Crom wanted to jump Randa. He'd hated Ron from the day he arrived. The only reason he was here at the ranch instead of Raiford, was his cousin. He was a judge and used his influence to get Crom sent to Randa Ranch. "What’s your problem? What have I done?"

"I found Jon Carver beaten senseless this morning. He said he fell off his horse. We both know it was you. I know about the dog as well. If it happens again, you’re gone, understand?" Ron never allowed a prisoner to gain the upper hand. He had ultimate control and kept it that way. He opened the door and walked out. The other men watched as he left the barn. Crom went from the tack room to his horse. Crom looked like death walking. Whatever was said, Crom was mad and that made him dangerous.

"Gonna fix that one." They all knew he was talking about Randa. Crom had talked many times about getting away from the ranch and how he was going to hurt Randa before he left. It was possible that time was soon.

The next day found Hando feeling somewhat better. He still couldn’t walk without assistance but was able to handle going to the bathroom without someone there. Ron had helped him the day before and it embarrassed him each time.

Ron walked into the room. "How you feeling today?"

Hando gave him a sour look. "I’ll manage."

"I just got a call from Kathleen. Your grandmother is in the hospital. I’m flying out today. Fanny’s keeping you here for another few days and I don’t want you to give her a hard time."

When Ron mentioned his mother being in the hospital, Hando wanted to ask about her. He didn’t want to admit it, but he’d gotten attached to her in the three days they spent there. She was infuriating, but she was also strong-willed and not easily put off. The love she had for her family was paramount and she tried to draw him into it. He wanted that more than he was willing to admit to her or himself.

Ron caught the fleeting concern when he mentioned Jon’s grandmother. "Kathleen said Mom is in intensive care. I’ll be surprised if she makes it this time. Is there anything you want me to tell her?"

He thought for a minute. He wished he could tell her so many things. "No, yes, just tell her I’m sorry she got Hando instead of Jonny." He looked away and Ron thought he caught the shimmer of tears in Jon’s eyes.

Chapter Six:

Crom was on his best behavior. Ron had spoken to all the guards before he left and cautioned them about Crom. He knew Crom was looking for an opportunity to break out. Ron could feel it. He hated leaving at such a bad time, but Kathleen had called again after Ron spoke to Jon. She made it clear that her grandmother was not going to overcome this time.

Ron carefully considered sending Crom to Raiford. He hated to admit defeat, but past experience dictated that Crom was unwilling to change. Ron couldn’t in good conscience justify keeping him here at the ranch. He called and made arrangements for federal officers to escort Crom back to Florida. This, however, would not happen until later in the week.

Fanny was slowly drawing Hando out. She had talked casually to him several times when tending to his injuries. He seemed to like her and underneath his cold exterior, she could sense his need to be accepted. She walked into his room with Runt in her arms.

"I thought maybe you’d like some company." She laid the puppy on the bed next to Hando’s side. The pup squealed and nudged into Hando’s arm.

Hando smiled, "Shouldn’t he be with his mum?"

"Oh, I think he can stand to be away from her for a couple of hours. He just finished eating and he’ll probably sleep."

Hando wrapped his arm around the pup and drifted off to sleep.

Fanny went to the barn to feed Gretchen and Carlyle. Albert Hastings accompanied her. Ron had left orders that she not go into the prison area alone while he was gone. Albert had a rifle in his arms and a handgun tucked in the ankle holster under his pant leg. They walked into Carlyle’s stall and heard a whimpering noise. Fanny went to the corner where Gretchen kept the puppies. What she found made her ill. Gretchen was lying in a pool of blood, her head split open. All three puppies were already dead, beaten to death. Fanny sobbed, "Oh, my God!" She fell on her knees next to the dog.

Gretchen died as Fanny lifted her head and placed it in her lap.

"Come on, Fanny, let’s get back to the house." Albert knew whoever did this was waiting for them.

He grabbed Fanny’s arm and pulled her up. "Go, now!"

As they stepped out of the stall, Crom hit Albert in the head with the same club he’d beaten Gretchen with. Hastings' brain didn’t even register the fact that he was hurt. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Crom grabbed the rifle and looked for the pistol while two others grabbed Fanny. She was sheet white. "Crom, you’ll go to the gas chamber for this," she hissed.

Crom hit her so hard she thought she’d lose consciousness. The two men holding her kept her from falling. "Bring her along." When they emerged from the barn Crom gave one of the other men the rifle and took Fanny, keeping her in front of him. He walked toward the guard gate with the pistol to her head. The gate guard saw them and pointed the rifle at Crom.

"Stop right there, Crom." Before he realized Crom wasn’t alone, the man with the rifle stepped around the other side of the barn and shot him. What they didn’t know, was that the gate guard hit a silent alarm under the shelf inside the guard shack before challenging Crom. They had no opposition and moved through the gate and into the house.

Hando was aware something wasn’t right. He heard a quiet alarm in the living room and went to investigate. A rifle shot rang out right after. He knew Fanny had gone to feed and water Carlyle. He had asked her not to go.

"Tell one of the guards to have Troy do it. I don’t like it. You shouldn’t go down there."

She had smiled at his concern. "Albert is going with me, I won’t be alone. When I’m done, I’ll fix dinner."

Hando could see Crom though the lacy curtains on the front window. He was dragging Fanny to the house and two of his lackeys were with him.

Hondo moved back into the kitchen grabbed a butcher knife from the drawer, then, slipped out to the porch behind the house. What was he going to do? The other guards were out with the rest of the prisoners and wouldn’t be back for at least an hour. Hando was in no shape to take on Crom let alone the other two. How was he supposed to help Fanny? Why would he even care to? She was nothing to him, just his aunt by marriage to an uncle he barely knew. She shouldn’t even be here. Crom would kill him if he caught him. He should just hide in the tool shed out back and pretend he couldn’t help.

He could hear Crom. He had Fanny in the kitchen. "Where’s Hando?"

"Ron took him to the hospital in Belle Fourche last night. He was bleeding and needed surgery." Fanny lied her ass off hoping Jon had made it outside the house. If Crom found him, she had no doubt he’d kill Jon.

Hando puzzled over her lie. She was obviously protecting him at risk to herself.

"Check the rest of the house." The other two did as they were told. Twenty seconds later they reported no one else was home.

"You two stay here. Mrs. Randa and I are going to get better acquainted." Crom’s grin looked like something from an iodine bottle. Fanny had no doubt he intended to rape her, and probably would kill her once he was done.

"Crom, we don’t have time for that. Let’s just kill her and take the Jeep." Harley saw the look Crom gave him and shut up.

When Crom started dragging Fanny to the bedroom, she screamed and tried to break free. He hit her making her stagger then forced her to the bedroom.

Hando moved off the porch, around the back to Eileen’s bedroom. He was going to help Fanny if he could, after all she had lied to keep him safe. He’d left the bedroom window open for fresh air and decided to re-enter the house that way. The heating unit was directly under the window and afforded him a step up. The windows were high-set though and it caused him considerable pain to reach up and pull himself up to the window sill. He dropped the knife on the bed and pulled himself through the window. He fell through the window onto the bed. He lay there trying to regain his breathing and calm the urge to vomit. He looked over to the pillow he’d put Runt on before going into the sitting room. The puppy was sleeping, unaware that his new master was facing possible death.

At first he was afraid the bed squeaking would give him away. It seemed to him the noise was incredibly loud. Grabbing the knife, he moved to the door and listened. He could hear the other two men arguing about Crom taking the time to fuck the warden’s old lady.

He moved quietly out the door and down to the room he thought Crom had Fanny in. He steeled himself trying to get his breathing under control. As he stepped into the bedroom, he could see Crom on top of Fanny. Her face was bloody and had black and blue marks. Her clothes were torn to shreds and Crom was forcing himself on her. As Hando moved to stop him, Crom turned. He grabbed the gun lying next to him on the bed. Hando stabbed as Crom shot.

Hando heard the gun shot and felt a searing pain in his side. He fell at the end of the bed and thought for a fleeting moment that he had failed. He heard two more shots and wondered if Fanny were still alive.

He woke up the next morning in Eileen’s bedroom. He thought a moment and recalled what happened. An attractive young woman with brown hair and blue/green eyes walked in. "Good morning. How are you feeling?"

She was holding Runt. "I think he wants you. I just got done feeding him. He needs someone to cuddle up to." She smiled, "By the way, I’m your cousin, Eileen. I just got here this morning. I’m a student at the University of Wyoming."

Fanny came in just as she was introducing herself. "How are you doing, Jon?" She came and lifted the blanket, checking a pad on his side.

"What happened? All I remember is the gun going off. Are you okay?"

Her face was a mass of bruises and her lip was cut, but she was smiling. "Yes, thanks to you." She went on to explain that Jon had in fact dealt Crom a fatal stab but not before Crom shot him. The bullet grazed Hando’s side next to the already broken rib. He wasn’t hurt badly, but the wound had to be stitched and the combination of the shot and broken rib along with the other injuries left him in sorry shape. Fanny had grabbed the gun from Crom as he lay dying. She shot one of the men as they came to see what was happening, and one of the guards shot the other as he tried to escape.

The alarm had alerted the guards that were out with the cattle and other prisoners, through the beepers they all carried. Every one of the guards brought their prisoners back to the compound and locked them in the bunkhouse. They advanced on the house to find one prisoner dead outside a bedroom and one running for the back door. When he turned to fire the rifle, he was shot.

Fanny explained what Hando had done, and they carried him to the bedroom and she tended his wound.

"There’s going to be a federal investigation and you’ll have to testify. It could mean the Ranch will be shut down." Fanny looked worried.

"Does the warden know what happened?"

"Yes, we talked last night. He’s very proud of you. He told your grandmother about it. He said she knew you’d do the right thing."

Hando wanted to ask how the old woman was doing, but couldn’t let her know he cared.

"She died not long after he told her." Fanny had tears slipping down her face. "Ron is bringing her here. She said she wanted to be with her family. Since you couldn’t come to her, she’d come to you."

Hando cuddled the puppy to his face and closed his eyes. He didn’t want Fanny or Eileen to see the tears. The old woman touched him even beyond death.

Fanny told Hando about Gretchen when he asked why Eileen had fed him. "You’re all he has now, Jon. You’ll have to feed him and keep him warm. He’s too young yet to eat dog food."

"How will I manage that? I’ll have to go back to the ranch work soon as I can ride. They won’t let me come back just to feed a pup."

"Ever heard of a saddle bag?" Fanny explained that Jon could put the puppy in a saddle bag with a towel and take him along. "He needs to drink goat’s milk; it’s the closest to mother’s milk we can get. I asked Ron to bring some back with him and we’ll order enough to get Runt by until he can start eating puppy food."

Hando woke up in the middle of the night. Runt was crying again. He needed to be fed every three hours. "Christ mate, give me a break!" It was three in the morning and Eileen came into her bedroom to see what was going on. She ended up in her sister, Colleen’s, room. He told her he’d move there, but she stopped him. Colleen’s room was larger anyway and it had two twin beds there. When Colleen arrived for the funeral they could spend more time together if they were in the same room.

"Want me to feed him so you can sleep? You haven’t slept all night the last two nights."

"No, I’m awake now. Go back to bed." Eileen was the youngest and most intelligent of the Randa girls. At nineteen, she was already a senior in college and was studying to become a teacher. She sat on the bed and watched as Jon fed Runt.

"You’re good with him. Mom tells me you’re good with Carlyle, too."

"Animals don’t expect much. They take you as you are."

"Mom tells me you hate Jews. Is that so?"

"I suppose." Hando thought about the words Hitler used in his book. He pointedly hated anyone whom he considered not of his race. Hando had to re-evaluate ‘his’ race. He had Jewish blood, his grandmother was Jewish. He didn’t hate her. In fact she made him want to be a part of her family.

"Grandpa Randa was Catholic. When he and Grandma were married they had to fight the Catholic Church and the Synagogue. They finally gave up and married in a civil ceremony. Grandpa always regretted that. He wanted to give Gram a proper wedding. When Dad and Aunt Kathleen were born, he insisted they be raised with both religions. He said that they should be the ones to choose what religion they followed. Dad is a mixture of Jewish and Catholic. Aunt Kathleen embraced all religions. I remember she said that it wasn’t the religion, but what spoke to your heart."

Hando turned cold eyes on her, "How could you know that? You couldn’t have been more than a year old when my mum died."

Eileen looked back at him with defiance. "Dad let me read some of the letters she wrote him when he was in the service, before he met Mom. He had to decide what religion he was when he joined. He finally told them he was non-denominational, though he wore a cross and a Star of David. He had them on the same chain his dog tags were on. He wasn’t supposed to, but he did it anyway."

"A real rebel, eh?" Hando was being sarcastic, he couldn’t relate to the significance wearing two religious symbols on a dog tag held.

"For Dad it was. You have to remember he was in the SEALS. They didn’t tolerate ‘breaking the rules’. He was hard line and never strayed from military protocol. It was a statement. He felt he should be able to wear the symbols of his faith along with the symbol of his convictions. After all, he was being asked to defend our country with his life, why shouldn’t he be allowed to do it with the reasons he did it, in evidence?"

Eileen watched Jon covertly. She saw the tattoos and the strong, muscular body. If he weren’t her cousin, she’d be attracted to him. Even though there were times he made her uneasy with the coldness of his stare, she also saw tenderness when he handled Runt.

"Well, I guess I’d better get back to bed. Dad and Kathleen should be here by five and Colleen will be here tomorrow." Eileen started to get up.

Hando was angry about something that had nagged him since he met Ron. He wouldn’t ask him why, but he felt Eileen might tell him. She seemed willing to talk about ‘things’ like Kathleen and Fanny had. "Eileen, how was it no one knew about me? Didn’t anyone in Australia try to contact Ron or Grandmum? They were my next of kin."

Eileen looked down at her hands. She could feel the anger as well as hear it. "I asked Dad the same question. There was some kind of trouble between him and your dad. He never told me what. But your dad told him not to contact him again after your mom died. Dad wanted to, he mentioned you several times over the years. Anyway, when he went looking for you no one seemed to know who you were. He went to the police to see if they could help. They told him about your dad being killed and you being sent to a foster home and about how you ran away. They finally came up with the name you were using and told him about all the trouble you’d been in. He asked why they never contacted him when you were sent to the first foster home.

It seems you father made a will at the request of his new wife. She didn’t want to be left with nothing if something happened. She knew Australian law allowed you to challenge her for any property she might inherit, your being his blood relation and all. When he wrote the will he stated that no other family existed on either his side or your mother's and his new wife should benefit from that. He also stated that he wanted nothing to be passed to you. I guess that’s why they never looked for family outside of Australia."

"That was my dad, loved me to the very end." It was the first time Eileen saw Hando’s true hurt. He was intently watching Runt as he seemed to fall asleep while sucking on the small bottle.

Eileen put her hand on Jon’s arm. "I know that if Dad knew you were left alone, he and Grandma would have moved heaven and hell to bring you here. Aunt Kathleen and Dad were very close. He always wanted a son and would have raised you like his own."

"Well, luck of the draw." That was the story of Hando’s life. Hando got up and took the bottle to the refrigerator, carrying Runt as he went. It was still painful to walk and still hard to breathe. He heard Eileen pad down to her room and close the door. He sat on one of the kitchen chairs and gently stroked Runt. He thought back to the day the skins beat him and killed the dog. He remembered watching out of swollen eyes as the leader lifted the dog's head and cut his throat. Hando had tried so hard to stop them. In the end all he could do was watch as his only friend died. "I’ll never let anyone hurt you," he said as he held Runt up to his face. "We’ve only got each other." The puppy squeaked and nuzzled Hando’s nose.

ON TO PART 7

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