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.

   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.

   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.

   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