Starsky takes Hutch away for a special Thanksgiving celebration. With just the two of them in a rustic setting, Starsky never suspects what he will come to be truly thankful for by the time the retreat is over.
Covert artwork by Firefly, other artwork by Becky.
“We’re really going to have a great time.” Starsky felt his face split in a smile. “I’m looking forward to it.” And he realized it was the truth. Never one to like the outdoor things that Hutch so fondly remembered from growing up, he was looking forward to this. Ever since he saw how completely it brought his lover out of the blue funk he’d been in upon learning his family was passing on his invitation to spend Thanksgiving in warmer California out of the Minnesota snow, even the prospect of the great outdoors looked good.
“Great time doing what? Where?” Hutch asked, not looking up from the book he was reading.
“Our vacation!” Starsky started the car, as he saw the apartment door they’d been watching all morning open and the two occupants get in a small sedan and pull away from the curb. “The camping trip,” he shot at Hutch, looking in his direction as often as traffic permitted, and getting back nothing but a blank stare.
“It’s all set. You said make the arrangements, so I did.” Starsky’s words came out in a steady crescendo.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hutch answered blandly, still staring.
“What d’ya mean? I told you all about it. The reservations I bought through Huggy’s cousin…on the watch last Thursday?” Starsky palmed the wheel making a sharp left turn.
“I slept through the late watch last Thursday, until we got the call down by the docks.”
“Zebra three, we are in pursuit. Dark green, late model Chevy sedan. both suspects in the car, heading west on Chancey toward Imperial. They’ve spotted the tail and we are 10-18.” Starsky turned to fix Hutch with a frown, as the blond leaned forward and picked up the mars light to slap on the roof of the Torino.
“Hutch, you sat there and we talked about it the whole time. It was my way of making up to you what happened on our last vacation to New York. It’s too late to cancel now; I’ve got all this stuff reserved, deposits sent, comp-time requests filled out and okayed…what the hell’s the matter with you?”
“Okay, okay, relax. What is it we’re supposed to be doing again?” Hutch asked.
“Senility hits one in three prematurely. You really need a rest. We’re going to a game preserve. Y’know, fishing, catch-and-release…fresh air, peace and quiet. It’ll do you a world of good.” Starsky turned his attention back to his driving as he muttered, “maybe it’ll even improve your memory.”
“My memory is fine. In fact, I remember the last time we went on a fishing trip.”
“That was the first question I asked Huggy’s cousin. He promised me no witches or weirdoes. This is a strictly for-fun place. We park the car at the lodge where we check in, and drive dirt bikes to our cabin. They trailer everything in for us–the kayaks and stuff to use on the archery lots, fishing gear, even rifles to shoot skeet with.”
“We talked about this last Thursday, huh?”
Starsky shot Hutch another dirty look as he accelerated up the freeway on-ramp.
“Sounds good,” Hutch chuckled. “When did I say we’d go?”
“Tomorrow, after the Norton hearing,” Starsky answered, still miffed even as Hutch leaned back against the seat with a smile and a hand that playfully squeezed the back of Starsky’s neck.
The radio crackled to life, and the dispatcher’s voice called, “Zebra three. Sheriff’s unit will pick up your pursuit at mile marker 123. You’ll be entering their county; turn it over to them and return to Parker Center.”
“What?” Starsky yelled as he grabbed the mike. “We’ve been staking out these turkeys for three days, and you want us to just let the CHPs have ’em?”
“Those are Captain Dobey’s orders,” Dispatch responded in sympathy.
“Ten-four, Zebra three out!” Starsky replied in disgust, before he exited the upcoming off-ramp and returned to the freeway, going in the opposite direction. The lights and siren of the Highway Patrol car were flashing under him as he crossed over the freeway.
“Shit!” Starsky growled and rammed an open palm against the steering wheel.
The next hour and forty minutes did nothing to improve either man’s mood, as they listened with frustration to the latest in the legal tactics to delay their testimony in the upcoming Norton hearing. Leaving the precinct house and walking briskly to the car, Starsky drove aggressively to The Pits.
“I thought we were going home,” Hutch remarked, as the car came to a teeth-rattling, abrupt halt.
“I have to get the reservation and confirmation papers from Huggy.” Starsky opened the door and turned back to Hutch who was still seated, unmoving.
“What reservations?” Hutch asked innocently.
“Get outta my car!” Starsky yelled.
Hutch smiled and clapped Starsky’s shoulder as they approached the entrance to the bar.
“Let it go, okay, babe? Let the legal-beagles do their thing; our part will keep. The judge didn’t grant bail, so Norton isn’t going anywhere. It just means we can get away that much earlier in the morning, okay?” Hutch kept his hand on Starsky’s neck as they walked in.
“Name your pleasure…liquid that is,” Huggy chimed as they entered.
“Two beers, Hug,” Hutch ordered and steered Starsky toward a booth in the back.
“And those reservations from your cousin,” Starsky called over his shoulder.
Huggy brought the two beers shortly after they were seated, and fished a fat envelope out of his waistband to set on the table in front of Starsky. Hutch leaned over the table to read the pages Starsky held, taking a drink of his beer and choking on it.
“A hundred and sixty-seven dollars! You’ve got to be kidding. If I agreed to that, I wasn’t asleep last Thursday–I was unconscious!”
“That’s for the two of us. your half is $83.50,” Starsky answered sheepishly, then looked around the bar, motioning Hutch to be quiet. “C’mon Hutch, you couldn’t rent all the stuff involved here anywhere else for that price. We’ve got fishing gear, trail bikes, kayaks, a chalet lodge for a restaurant and bar, jacuzzi–”
“I’m not going to rent it there for that price. My car needs tires, the stereo needs to be fixed, my guitar–”
“Okay. hey, I’ll make you a deal: if you have a flat before next payday, I’ll spring for the new tire,” Starsky offered with a big smile, which quickly faltered as Hutch held up three fingers.
“What?” Starsky asked.
“Not a hair on their little heads,” Hutch answered as he continued to wiggle his three fingers.
“Three? I’ve been riding around with you, and you knew you had three bald tires on that rat trap you drive?” Starsky paused for a second then continued. “Okay, so I’ll cover you for three. I mean, who has three flat tires in two weeks?”
“Want another beer?” Huggy asked hopefully.
“No thanks, I’ve got laundry to do before I pack,” Hutch answered as he slid out of the booth.
“I’m surprised he remembered,” Starsky muttered almost under his breath. “See you later, Huggy.”
The two men walked out to the street, blinking against the bright sun, and both reached in their pockets for sunglasses. Hutch stood at the side of the Torino staring across and down the street. Starsky walked to the driver’s side of the car and got in, watching Hutch as he stayed standing outside the car. Starsky leaned back out of the car, standing on the floorboard to look at Hutch over the roof. “You gettin’ in?” Starsky then slowly turned and followed his partner’s gaze.
He noticed the car parked outside of the small branch bank building, engine running. “All the window shades have been pulled down,” Starsky remarked.
“Yeah, I noticed. you thinking what I’m thinking?” Hutch asked.
“Yep.” Starsky flopped back into the seat reaching for the radio, as Hutch eased in the seat, still keeping his eye on the bank.
Before Starsky had a chance to say anything, the dispatcher’s voice was heard. “Control to any unit in the vicinity of Ledford and Ninth street. Silent alarm, 211 in progress, Branch four Wells Fargo.”
“Control, this is Zebra three. We’re there,” Starsky answered as they got out of the car and approached the bank, guns drawn.
Two men came quickly out of the bank and entered the car waiting at the curb. The car spun out in a fast U-turn, barely missing Starsky and Hutch as they approached, both men rolling out of the path to rise up again and open fire. Hutch squinted hard to see the license plate, just before the car turned the corner being pursued by a black-and-white that responded to the call. Hutch walked over to help Starsky up and brush the dirt off of his jacket. “You okay?” he asked, looking concerned at how Starsky was grimacing as he rotated his own shoulder.
“Yeah, just bruised, I think,” Starsky said, giving his right shoulder another rotation as a test. “Hutch, I really need a vacation.”
“Me, too.” Hutch looped his arm across his partner’s shoulder and steered them both toward the bank.
The better part of the next hour was spent taking statements and generally trying to calm the shaken occupants of the bank. The detective team that had been handling the annoyingly successful string of small community bank robberies arrived and took over. Both men exchanged grim expressions as the coroner’s wagon removed the body of the security officer that had been killed.
On their way back to the Torino, Hutch exclaimed, “Hey, I’ve got an idea! why don’t I pick up a turkey to take up there with us?”
“Are you calling me names?” Starsky asked as he lowered himself into the seat of the car, wiping at a dirty stain on his jeans.
“No, turkey. I’ll get one of those fully cooked, smoked ones. We can take up a couple of cans of cranberry sauce and some of those huge baking potatoes, and put them in the coals of the fireplace to cook. We’ll have a Thanksgiving–just us. Who cares if the folks don’t want to come? We’re all we need, right?” Hutch shut the car door and pinned him with such an encouraged look it twisted Starsky’s heart.
“Hey, that sounds great. I’ll bring some big onion rolls and a pumpkin pie…can’t have Thanksgiving without pumpkin pie,” Starsky added.
“Great.” Hutch leaned back with more of a smile on his face than Starsky had seen since he yielded to Starsky’s urging that Hutch invite his folks out for the holiday and they had politely declined.
Three men sat in their car as it sped down the freeway. Two in front and one in back. The younger man sitting alone in the back seat turned frequently, obviously nervous, to peer out the rear window.
“Those were cops you almost ran over, Don. And that guy in the bank, you shot him like it was nothing,” Smitty said, his voice quivering with barely suppressed panic. He leaned forward to talk to the older man in the passenger seat. “Mr. Milburn, he killed a man back there.”
The driver shot a quick glance toward the backseat and growled, “Shut up, Smitty.”
“Stop it, both of you. This is an unfortunate turn of events, but these things are sometimes…unavoidable.” Milburn looked hard at Smitty, causing the younger man to sit back against his seat, then he turned that same hard stare to the driver.
“It was unavoidable, wasn’t it, Don?” Harry Milburn asked.
“He was going for the silent alarm. I thought I got him before he hit it. I was wrong.” Don repeatedly glanced in the rearview mirror. “I don’t think we’re being followed, though. I lost that black-and-white, and I haven’t seen another one pick us up.”
“Good.” Milburn replied, relaxing in his seat. “Then I see no reason not to continue as planned. Back to the lodge and prepare for the next job on Friday. After that, we go our separate ways, gentlemen. No need to run our method into the ground.”
“Just be more careful next time,” Smitty angrily spat at the back of the driver’s head. “Nobody was supposed to get hurt.”
“Look, punk.” Don turned from his driving.
“Stop!” Milburn interrupted and faced the hot stare from the driver. “What’s done is done. There will be no bickering about it now.” He tossed a pad of paper into the back seat to Smitty, who caught it in spite of being startled. “Make a list of the supplies we need; it will give you something to do. You can go and pick them up in the morning.”
“Yes, sir,” Smitty answered, still scowling.
The Torino wound through traffic, which became blessedly sparser the closer they got to the turn-off to the mountain resort roads. at the same time, both men reached for the handle to roll down their windows and smiled at the shared thought. The clear air flooded in, already smelling of the cool mountain morning.
“What did Dobey say when you called to say we were leaving?” Hutch asked.
“‘Said ‘have a good time’.” Starsky turned to see the surprised look from Hutch. “Yeah, no kidding. He said he knew we had the comp time coming and hoped we enjoyed it.”
“Somehow I doubt his heart was in it,” Hutch said dryly.
“Well, he did sound just a wee bit envious.” Starsky chuckled. “I caught him looking at some of the brochures I left laying on my desk yesterday, and he was all but droolin’.”
Hutch pointed at the upcoming exit, and Starsky nodded that he’d seen it, as he crossed to the far right lane to exit the freeway and turn on to the secondary road. Following the rest of the directions brought them up to the road leading to the main chalet complex, and they drove slowly down the narrow road, lined on both sides with tall pine trees and bordered by a rough rail fence.
Hutch looked around, obviously impressed, as Starsky brought the car to a stop outside the large chalet. “This place is beautiful,” he breathed, then turned a hundred-watt smile on Starsky.
“So are you, blondie,” Starsky answered, glad once more that he’d insisted on this getaway.
The two men entered and approached the front desk, where a large, burly man in a red flannel shirt and jeans waited with a smile. “Can I help you, boys?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” Starsky spoke, fishing in his coat pocket. “I spoke with someone here about a week ago and made reservations. We’ll be here through Sunday,” Starsky finished, as he placed the papers on the large desk.
“Yes, sir, we’re all ready for you. My name is Sid Yarbrough and I man the front desk until 7:00 PM, so when you get to your unit just call if you think of anything else you need.” The big man reached under the desk and pulled out a poster-sized map. “You’re here right now at the entrance lodge. Here’s the parking lot where you can put your car; it’s secure, just take your valuables and lock it. We’ll take all your luggage and the supply stuff up to your unit; you’ll be going in on trail bikes. We only allow the jeep type vehicles from the lodge on our roads. Keeps them more rustic that way.
“Your unit is number six, right here.” he pointed to a unit on the map. “It’s a beauty and got a great view. You follow the path right next to it, and it will lead you to the lake if you follow it straight down. If you take the fork to the west, it goes to the archery range, and beyond that, the area for skeet shooting. The fork to the east goes to the mineral hot springs. Your cabin key will unlock the gate around the hot springs and the other areas. There’s a boat dock at the lake, and each unit has a corresponding numbered storage area that has a kayak in it and all your fishing gear. There are life vests in the kayaks–you got to wear them; that’s the law.
“At the clubhouse on the lake, there’s a freezer with bait in it, soft drink machines, and there’s a cooler in the cabin’s pantry if you want to take down some beer. We’re a game preserve, so the fishing is catch-and-release, and the only thing you can shoot to kill here is a clay pigeon.” Yarbrough chuckled at his joke and looked up to see if it had been appreciated.
“There’s plenty of wildlife to see if you brought your camera. Out behind your unit, there’s a brick barbecue grill and some cedar tables and chairs. just don’t leave any food out there overnight, or you’ll wake up to a bear wanting to join you for breakfast.” The big man laughed at his own joke again, or the loud swallow Starsky gave, he wasn’t sure which. “Each unit has a fireplace in the main room and the master bedroom. There’s plenty of firewood inside the cabin, and if you need more, the woodshed is under the back steps and your key opens it, too.”
Hutch moved closer to Starsky at the mention of the bear, and rested a soothing hand on the small of his back. “Do you have a smaller map that we can take with us?” Hutch asked.
“You betcha. Here you go. I also have some other forms for you both to sign. Here’s the one saying you understand that this is a game preserve and you won’t feed the animals or harm any of them, like I explained before.” He handed a long sheet of paper and a pen to Starsky.
“This one is a release from liability if you fall in the lake and drown, or fall off your dirt bike and break your neck.” He put down a long sheet of paper. “and this one you sign after I show you the rifles and you inspect them, and we’re all confident that everyone knows how to use them safely.” He laid the other two sheets of paper on the desk.
Starsky signed his and handed it over to Hutch and reached for the other sheets of paper.
“I see you boys are from LA. What do you do there?” Yarbrough asked.
“We’re police officers,” Hutch answered, signing the last of the pages and pushing them back toward the clerk.
“Well, rifles shouldn’t be anything new to you, then.”
“No, sir,” Hutch answered with a smile. “We’re pretty used to guns.”
Yarbrough went to the small room off the main desk area, fumbling with a ring of keys as he went. He returned in a few minutes, carrying two rifles, two ammunition pouches, and a metal case that Starsky recognized as a cleaning kit.
“Here you go. just look them over, see if you have any questions. They’re given to you unloaded, and that’s the way they come back. Safety is on at all times, and you need to initial here that you checked that yourselves, personally.” Yarbrough passed a rifle to each man and set the other equipment on the desk.
Starsky and Hutch did as they were directed, checking the rifles, then initialing the page where indicated, and resting the rifles back down on the desk.
“Okay, that’s about it. Here are your keys to the cabin and the trail bikes. If you’ll park your car where I showed you, and just set everything you want toted up to the cabin on the ground at the rear of the car, I’ll have my man load it all up in the jeep and it’ll be at the cabin probably before you are. The bikes are already gassed up and ready. enjoy yourselves, boys.” Mr. Yarbrough extended his hand to Hutch, heartily shaking the receiving hand. “Mr. Starsky…”
“I’m Hutchinson.”
“Oh, sorry.” Mr. Yarbrough turned to Starsky and shook his hand as well.
Each man accepted the keys and went out to move the car and unload it. Hutch helped Starsky balance the backpack on his shoulders and steadied the handlebars of the dirt bike when Starsky swung his leg over. “You’ve got the map, blintz, so lead out.”
“Thanks,” Hutch said, his smile almost shy. “I know this isn’t your idea of a great Thanksgiving holiday. I appreciate what you’re doing. I…I just wanted you to know…I know.”
“Just don’t lay down your bike. You’ve got the turkey in your backpack, turkey.” Starsky gave him a playful jab, as he turned the key in his bike and kicked it to life. I love you, too, babe. Damn, it takes so little to make you happy. Why didn’t anybody ever really try before?
Starsky watched in frank appreciation of the rear view he got, as Hutch extended his long leg over the seat of the dirt bike and got it started. With a backward grin and a flush to his fair cheeks that said he knew he’d been watched, Hutch steered the bike out to the trail that would lead them to their unit.
Back in the lodge, Mr. Yarbrough puttered with boxing up supplies and marking them off the checklist. He glanced up with a start as a figure entered through the back door. “Oh, Smitty, it’s you. How you doing, boy? Those supplies you ordered are all ready to go.”
“Good, thanks. I…uh…need to use the phone first, okay?”
“Sure, go ahead.” Mr. Yarbrough moved over the boxes he’d been filling and placed an invoice on top, then turned to a larger list and began filling another box.
Smitty fumbled in his jeans for a coin and quickly dialed a number, keeping his eyes on the parking lot and the two men slowly riding out on dirt bikes. He straightened suddenly. “Mr. Milburn, those two cops we almost hit yesterday at the bank…they’re here!”
“Yes, I’m sure. I just saw them loading stuff up on trail bikes like they’re going camping. I don’t buy it. I think…”
“Calm down,” Milburn’s voice barked through the phone. “Did they see you?”
“No, no, I don’t think so.”
“Good. They could be doing just what it looks like they’re doing, so there is no reason to panic and do anything stupid right now. Listen to me and do exactly what I tell you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Find out what campsite they’re going to. Do you see stuff still sitting around as if it hasn’t been delivered yet?”
“Yes, it looks like Mr. Yarbrough is making up a delivery order now.”
“Good, that’s what I was counting on. You’ll make that delivery. Do you see him putting out rifles?” Milburn asked.
“Not yet, but I think he will be; I see the other skeet stuff setting there.”
“Perfect. On the way out to their delivery site, you stop someplace no one can see you and file down the safety on each of the rifles and load them. That’s all you have to do; then make the delivery as usual. When you’re done stowing away their stuff, swing around the rear side of the cabin and cut the phone line. Cut it tight against the cabin wall so it doesn’t stick out. Don and I will do the rest. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, file off both shotgun safety pins, load them, and clip the phone line.”
“Right. Come back here when you’re all done. We need to know what site number they’re renting.” Mr. Milburn’s voice sounded controlled and calm. Smitty took a deep breath and let himself feel calmer, too.
He slowly hung up the phone and went over to the counter where Mr. Yarbrough was still working. “Put the supplies I ordered on the same tab. I…uh…I’ve got some free time this afternoon. Got any deliveries for me?” Smitty asked.
“Sure do. Full load to go to number six. I’ll have it ready in about a half-hour. Want to hose down two kayaks for me and turn them over to drain while you wait?”
“You bet, two singles?”
“Yeah, but use the big ones. They’re for two guys. They’re pretty good sized,” Mr. Yarbrough suggested.
“Okay.”
Starsky and Hutch had wasted no time in storing the few things from their backpacks inside the cabin and starting out on their bikes to enjoy the many trails in the woods around the cabin. Starsky slowed to a crawl, his feet touching on either side of the bike as he balanced it, then eased it to a full stop. He sat back and let his eyes feast on his partner. Hutch sat on his own bike just ahead of him, his only movement had been a moment ago when he reached to turn the key and silence it. The breeze blew softly, creating its own music in the tall treetops and occasionally lifted a wisp of silvery hair as Starsky watched his lover. Hutch had his eyes closed and was facing upward, as if soaking in the sounds and the afternoon rays of the sun. The big blond drew in a breath and let it out.
“I wish I could bottle this peace for you, babe. Take it out when we’re back home and soothe you with it,” Starsky whispered, as he killed the engine of his own bike, walked quietly to his lover, and threw his leg over the seat to nestle behind him.
Starsky slipped his arms around Hutch’s waist and rested his cheek against the broad warm back. He let the sound of Hutch’s heartbeat and slow breathing be his calming balm as Hutch had soaked in nature a moment ago. “Love you,” Starsky said, reaching his lips up to kiss the moles on Hutch’s neck.
“This is really beautiful,” Hutch whispered.
“Yep, you certainly are…” Starsky answered, kissing the other side of Hutch’s neck.
Hutch laughed and rested both his large hands on Starsky’s thighs and gave them each a squeeze then a playful slap. Throwing one long leg over the handlebars of the bike, Hutch stood and walked a little closer to the edge of the lake. He stooped down and picked up a rock, then another. finally satisfied with his choice, he skipped one expertly across the water.
Starsky joined him. “I never could do that.”
“What, skip rocks?” Hutch asked.
“Yeah, and don’t say it’s because I’m left-handed.”
“I’ll teach you while we’re here,” Hutch answered with a half playful tussle to Starsky’s hair.
“Let’s get back to the cabin, Blondie. I’ve got some things I want to teach you, too.”
Hutch smiled, and ran his fingers slowly across Starsky’s mouth, then even slower down the front of his neck to trace a feather-light line down Starsky’s chest, reaching inside the open jacket. He slid his fingertips barely inside Starsky’s belt, just behind the buckle and stopped.
“You can do whatever you want to do now, but later tonight…you’re mine. I want you naked on the floor in front of the fireplace we saw in those pictures of the cabin.”
Starsky felt his groin tighten and fill. He drank in the heated look coming from the smoldering eyes watching him, and with a sly smile, intended to give as good as he got. He ran his tongue slowly across his upper lip and pushed his hips closer to the hand resting so teasingly just inside his belt. “Let’s go,” Starsky whispered, and backed Hutch’s fingers out of their grip with a step, then continued on to his bike hearing the crunching of leaves that indicated Hutch was moving also.
They had taken a winding, random route of trails to end up by the lake, leaving Starsky a bit unsure which way was the most direct back to cabin six. He slowed at a fork in the trail and glanced back to see Hutch pull the map out of his jacket pocket and point to the right, giving Starsky a wink as he folded and re-pocketed the map.
They were at the cabin in a few minutes, and Starsky got off the bike and opened the storage unit under the porch to park the bikes. There was a note clipped to the bear-shaped knocker on the door. He removed it, reading while Hutch walked his bike inside and jerked it up on its stand next to Starsky’s. “They made the delivery already; that was fast.” He felt one of his hands pulled away from the pages he was reading and laughed at Hutch tugging him out of the storage room toward the stairs. Giving the door a push shut he followed the blond, enjoying the view of his ass as they ran up the stairs.
Once inside, Hutch shrugged out of his jacket and turned to pull on Starsky’s. “Don’t you want to look around at what they brought?” Starsky asked against the lips pressing in to his.
“Later,” was mumbled before the tongue used to form the word slipped past his lips to tease and tangle with his own.
The air in the cabin felt cool as each layer of clothing was removed, but the heat pouring off his partner more than made up for it. When Hutch started kissing down Starsky’s chest as he released his belt and was working on the zipper, Starsky stepped back. “I thought your show was later, in front of the fireplace?” Starsky pulled the already open shirt off Hutch’s arms. “This time, I’m driving. come on…” Starsky grasped his lover’s hand and moved them into the bedroom. He took Hutch’s face between both hands and kissed him, the contact gentle for only the briefest of time before becoming more intense and demanding. He moved them back a short distance until he felt Hutch stop–the blond’s legs against the mattress. With a small push, he tipped Hutch to the bed. He fell liquidly on to the comforter, arms falling slightly outspread, legs a little parted. His body in his black jeans a stark contrast to the pinkly flushed skin of his chest against the colorful patchwork quilt folded at the bottom of the bed. The bulge in his jeans obvious in its intent to escape confinement from the open belt and partially unzipped jeans.
“Ditch the boots and the rest of your clothes, Blondie. I’ll be right back,” Starsky said, before turning to walk into the bathroom and get what he needed out of their toiletries case. Bringing a towel with him that covered whatever else he carried, he stopped to look at Hutch once more. Hutch lay naked, aroused and waiting. the sight made Starsky’s cock fill to the point of pain. He tossed his supplies on the bed and toed out of his own shoes, quickly pulling down his tight jeans and briefs, glad of the relief as his cock was freed.
Starsky knelt on the bed, lowering himself to stretch out on Hutch’s body. Taking both of the blond’s hands, he raised them over his head. “Let them stay there as long as you can. I want you to just close your eyes and feel. Don’t think, babe, just enjoy it. I’m going to make you feel so good…” Starsky had been raised on his elbows as he spoke, now he lowered his head to tongue along Hutch’s collarbone and neck. “…so good.” Starsky kissed a winding path all over Hutch’s chest, soft kisses and a tickling tongue interspersed with gentle bites and harder sucking that left small marks. Hutch moaned in appreciation, and Starsky could easily feel the increase in the size and hardness of the cock pushing against him. He kept his lower body from pushing back against Hutch’s erection, wanting the stimulus to that area more specific.
Starsky kissed lower, letting his legs slide off the bottom of the bed as he moved his body farther from Hutch’s face. He tongued along Hutch’s flat stomach and made a moist trail down to one thigh then back up and down the other. Hutch’s cock was shaking slightly with each heartbeat, a glistening drop of moisture shining at the tip. Starsky took the straining cock in his hand and stroked with extreme slowness down the length of it. So hot, hot and hard, but the skin is so soft, like velvet over steel, he thought. He stroked again, still as slowly but with more firmness to the grip, and he heard Hutch’s breath hiss in and saw the muscles on his inner thighs quiver. Starsky reached out with his tongue and traced a line along the thickness of Hutch’s cock, starting at the base of the underside and following across the head to dip into the slit, tasting the offering there. Hutch’s hips bucked up with enthusiasm. Starsky blew his breath along the wet path and smiled at the groan it elicited.
“Oh, God, Starsky…you’re killing me. Come on, I was ready to explode when we got here. suck me…fuck me…do something!”
Starsky took a second to glance up at the flushed face watching him. “I love you…more than anything…more than anything I own, more than anything I want, more than my own life.” He watched as the impact of his words registered over the passion on the face of his lover. Hutch brought one of his arms down to run his fingers along Starsky’s face and up into the hair at his temple.
“That’s beautiful…thank you.” Hutch’s voice was a gentle whisper. “Show me….”
Starsky steadied Hutch’s cock with one hand, as he lowered his mouth down the length of it. His other hand slid over to get the tube of K-Y from under the towel. He squeezed out a bead of the gel on one corner of the towel and ran two fingers through it. As he sucked and stroked Hutch’s organ, the other fingers reached below the rapidly tightening balls to the pucker that pulsed in anticipation of his first touch. He circled the two fingers a few times and smiled around Hutch’s cock when the man groaned and tried to push against the teasing fingers. In a smooth push inward, Starsky entered him with his fingers. He twisted and scissored them, stretching the tight ring. He knew Hutch wouldn’t last much longer, and he wanted to feel Hutch’s orgasm around his own cock when the time came. He let his mouth pull back, slowing things down with long licks alternated by swirls of his tongue around the weeping head.
“I’m ready. Oh, man, am I ready…” Hutch panted as Starsky could see and feel the quivering of Hutch’s stomach muscles and thighs.
Starsky leaned back and drew the rest of the gel off the towel, spreading it on his own straining cock before he centered it against Hutch’s body, as Hutch set the bottoms of his feet against the mattress and spread his knees more widely apart. Starsky nudged Hutch’s knees back, which lifted his feet off the bed, and Starsky pushed his cock steadily inside the willing body. He watched Hutch’s nostrils flare, as he took a breath in and let his eyes close in pleasure at being filled. I love watching this moment, Starsky thought, as he relaxed, taking the time to enjoy the sensation of completeness it always gave him to join with Hutch this way.
He drew back as slowly as he had entered, only to move forward again. The tight channel accepting and engulfing. Had he been able, he would have kept this exquisite torture up much longer, but it was too good, too hot, too smooth not to fall toward completion, and with it a new rhythm to each stroke. Hutch grasped both hands tightly on Starsky’s thighs, no longer able to keep from touching. He gripped to increase the stimulation, encouraging a faster and deeper stroke to fulfil them both. Like passing into the eye of a tornado–only an intense roaring sound, then stillness as all energy erupts and leaves only the empty vessels behind. Loud heartbeats, louder breathing, and boneless limbs. Never sure at that moment where one body began and the other ended, and caring not one bit.
Starsky wasn’t at all sure how much time had passed when he opened his eyes next and found himself lying on his side. He felt surrounded by his partner, who curled at his back and held him tightly in the grasp of long arms and legs. He felt the gentle, warm air touch his shoulder with each breath and wished for a requiem that time would stop and let them keep this peace a little longer. Maybe in a month or so we’ll be ready to go back…back to work, back to life in LA, back to hiding everything we are to each other…just a month. Is that too much to ask?
Two men sat at a small dining table drinking coffee. The younger of the two sat nervously twirling his cup. “I don’t see why we can’t just hit ’em in the head and dump them both in the lake. It would look like they drowned. Happens all the time,” Don said.
Harry shook his head slowly, but his expression left no doubt about any willingness to consider an option other than his own. “No control over the element of time. A fisherman might find them too soon. Then what have you got? Dead cops. What does that bring? More cops!” He paused to take a drink from his cup.
“My way, they’ll be busy while we do our last job tomorrow. There won’t be any chance that they can interfere. You just get nice and close so you can get a sure shot. And for God’s sake don’t screw it up and kill one of them. With one wounded, the other one would never leave him. They’re thicker than thieves, if you pardon the pun.” Harry chuckled at his own humor. “But dead…that surviving partner wouldn’t stop ’til he had all the answers.” Harry stood and walked to the coffeepot to pour another cup.
“And you’re sure by the time they get to anyone for help we’ll be long gone?”
Harry nodded, blowing into his cup. “Especially since we’ll be sure any help is slow in coming. Smitty will be cutting the phone wires at the Forresters’ cabin. That’s the only place they’d have any hope of reaching on foot. Their own phone is already taken care of.”
Don’s smile was feral. “If they’d even make it that far.” the smile widened. “It sure won’t be a pleasant trip.”
The late afternoon breeze was crisp; leaves mostly already fallen blew lazily along the ground. As the sun was beginning to set, the air grew cooler. the steam that rose from the mineral hot springs became more pronounced, giving the area a ghostly aura. The calm surface of the spring broke suddenly by a dark head that squinted the water out of one eye while looking around with the other. Giving his hair a shake to keep at least some of the water dripping out of it away from his eyes, he looked in the other direction. “Hutch!” when there was no answer but the wind, he called louder, “HUTCH!”
A blond head broke the water silently behind Starsky. When he turned, still treading water, the dark-haired man found his face soundly splashed with the hot water before his partner dove under the surface and out of sight once more.
The eyes that watched the two men play and roughhouse in the hot springs closed briefly and turned away. Don’t watch, don’t care, just do what they told you and pretend you don’t know why, Smitty thought, as he moved silently away from the water’s edge.
He moved quickly up the trail to the cabin area, looking for number six. He was startled suddenly as he heard a noise to the right, and a woman on horseback broke from that trail to enter his. He relaxed in recognition. “What are you doing out here?” Smitty asked.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I ride out here a lot; I love it when it’s almost but not quite dark. My favorite time of day–Freckles’, too,” she added, patting the horse. “What are you doing?” she raised up in her stirrups, hearing laughter from the water below. “Hoping to catch some sweet thing skinny dipping?” she teased, her long reddish hair catching the light as it filtered through the trees..
“Just making a delivery for Mr. Yarbrough.” Smitty paused, chewing on his lip. “Don’t come down here for a while, Stacey.”
“Why?” The dimples of her usual smile faded in confusion.
“Because some damn fool might shoot you. it’s almost dark, for God’s sake,” Smitty answered as he continued walking up the trail, leaving behind a puzzled Stacey.
Starsky pulled on the thick robe, as he hung his bathing suit over the faucet in the shower and hummed to himself in anticipation of the activity in front of the fire that Hutch was currently building. Throwing Hutch’s robe over his arm, he followed the welcoming smell of the fire. The room was bathed in half-light from the kitchen, and he looked at his lover as he knelt in front of the fireplace. The flickering flames he was nursing casting golden fingers over his wet arms and chest. “Here, get out of those wet trunks and into this.” Starsky held out the robe. Hutch gratefully stood and shrugged into it, as he peeled off the wet suit and yielded it to Starsky’s other hand. Dispatching it to the other faucet in the shower next to his own, Starsky was back in a few seconds to stand next to Hutch as he stood watching the fire’s dance.
“Thanks for this,” Hutch whispered. “It’s perfect…and, God, I needed it. Until we got here, I don’t think I realized how much.”
Starsky moved to stand behind Hutch and engulf him in his arms, smiling when he felt Hutch’s weight relax against him. “I seem to remember you had some plans for us in front of the fire…want some wine with that?”
Hutch turned, his eyes already smoky with desire. “Wine, yeah…then just you.”
Starsky kissed Hutch’s full lips deeply, then moved with a groan of reluctance to the kitchen to get two glasses and the bottle of wine chilling in the refrigerator. He snagged the plate of cheese and crackers they had snacked on before going down to the hot springs and brought that over to where Hutch waited on the floor, sitting on the thick, white lamb’s wool throw off the back of one of the couches. Hutch opened the bottle of wine and poured, while Starsky loaded several crackers with the small pieces of cheese. They fed each other, slowly, alternating wine and cheese and kisses. Hutch finally pushed the plate away and drained his glass. His gaze at Starsky clearly sent the message: “you are the next thing on the menu,” and Starsky leaned to meet the mouth that approached him. Their lips met, and hands divested bodies of the robes in unison. Starsky felt the weight of his lover gently lower him to the soft throw, and Hutch’s mouth journeyed down his body, kissing and licking a path that meandered over his chest and abdomen to the engorged cock that waited, jutting out of the nest of dark curls. With a deep moan of pleasure, Starsky felt himself engulfed in the wet mouth, still cool from the wine.
“Ohhhh, babe. God, that feels so good…so good,” Starsky breathed.
Hutch reached toward the couch and picked up the tube of K-Y resting there behind the pillow. Pushing out a small amount on his fingers, he reached behind Starsky’s balls to paint it around his center, teasing touches–feather light–that had Starsky squirming. Hutch smiled around Starsky’s cock, then got more serious as he slowly slid one long finger inside, quickly upping the ante to two, when he found no resistance. Hutch played with his inner channel like the musician he was, until Starsky was straining not to climax, thereby ending it all too soon. “You’d better slow down or I’m gonna lose it,” he panted.
“Go ahead,” Hutch smirked. “I can make you come again.” he punctuated his opinion with another long slow circle around the nub of Starsky’s prostate.
With a scream as Hutch’s mouth reclaimed him, Starsky shot his load down the willing throat. His internal muscles spasmed tightly over the fingers that stroked forcefully in and out in time with his emissions. “Oh…my God, you’re…trying to…kill me,” Starsky croaked out between labored breaths.
“Yeah, but what a way to go. My turn,” Hutch spoke huskily as he positioned Starsky’s limp legs over his shoulders and centered his hard shaft sliding slowly in to the hilt.
Starsky watched through hooded eyes as Hutch’s slowly closed in satisfaction. The blond head was tilted back and his full lips opened to draw in rapid breaths. He started the stroking slowly, picking up the force and speed. With a readjustment of Starsky’s legs, he began to hit Starsky’s sensitive prostate over and over. The erection that had not completely faltered did indeed begin to re-solidify, and Starsky squeezed his eyes shut tightly enough to see stars behind the lids as he felt his balls tingle and tighten in preparation once more.
Hutch continued to stroke powerfully, his increased speed telling Starsky he was close. Starsky reached out his fingers to pinch and roll Hutch’s erect nipples as he shouted, “Go, baby, go…give it to me, all of it. Come on…I’m right here with you.” Starsky’s teeth were clenched so hard, he heard his jaw crack as he shot a small amount of semen between their bodies.
Hutch shoved in hard and held still, his entire body trembling as he shot into Starsky’s body. After that last convulsive shake, Hutch collapsed into Starsky’s waiting arms.
Starsky let his hands draw large and lazy circles over Hutch’s broad sweaty back, as they lay there spent and sated. The area on his chest where Hutch’s face lay was bathed in great gulping exhalations of hot breath. “I love you,” Hutch managed.
Starsky kissed the top of his sweaty head. “I love you more,” he answered.
“Not possible…” Hutch breathed his stock answer.
Morning was heralded in with the unfamiliar sound of birds loudly rejoicing in the new day and an obnoxious rooster determined to wake the dead. Starsky pulled the covers tighter over his head, then, with a sigh, flopped them all back and yielded to the fact that it was indeed morning. He raised up and sniffed, smelling coffee, and flopped back with a smile. The two men had untangled themselves from their nest in front of the fire during the night as the fire died down, and had gotten under the warm down comforter in the big four poster bed in the bedroom. Starsky remembered, thinking it felt like sleeping under a cloud. He sat up and smiled, seeing his robe thrown across the foot of the bed waiting for him.
“Good morning.” Starsky grinned his greeting to the blond making breakfast. “Smells great. Tomorrow I’ll get up early and cook for you.”
“Sit down; it’s all ready. I was just going to go get you.”
“Sleep good?” Starsky asked, drinking in the relaxed appearance of his lover.
“You bet.” Hutch flashed him a thousand-watt smile.
“What do you want to do today?” Starsky asked around a mouthful of eggs.
“I don’t know. Want to take the bikes out and just ride for a while? We can throw the rifles on the seats with the baggage cords and shoot some skeet when we get tired of riding around on the trails.”
“That sounds good. Then maybe later today we can take the canoes out.”
“Kayaks, Starsk. They’re kayaks. Sure, we can do that.” Hutch sat down and began eating with enthusiasm.
“Want more coffee?” Starsky asked as he carried his empty plate to the sink. With Hutch’s negative nod, he poured out the remains of the pot and rinsed all the dishes, setting them to soak until later. “You cooked; I’ll do the dishes after I take a shower,” Starsky offered, turning toward Hutch as he studied the map, no doubt planning the trails they’d take this morning.
Both men quickly showered and dressed, set the kitchen in order, covered the bed with the billowy down comforter, and started out, ready for another fun day. The air outside was crisp and clear, and the smell of wood smoke slightly tinged the air. Starsky watched with quiet pleasure as Hutch breathed it in–the peace and enjoyment of it all plain on his face.
“Come on, let’s ride around now before anyone else gets out on the trails,” Hutch said as he jogged to the storage area where the bikes were parked. The sun sparkled off his drying blond hair, making it look alive as the breeze and his own movement shook it.
Starsky followed. God, you look so young, babe. You’d think we’d just met, rather than been partnered all these years.
They walked the bikes out and closed the door to the storage area. Once their pockets were stuffed with shotgun shells for the skeet range and the rifles secured, they started down the trail, Hutch in the lead, and Starsky willing to follow and simply enjoy the view.
“We can swing by a place not too far from the hot springs we were at yesterday; there’s a grill area there. I’ve got some hot dogs and beer in the cooler,” Hutch said over his shoulder, patting the cooler on the seat behind him. ‘Then we can set up the tin cans to put some holes in them. Loser does the dishes for the rest of the trip. Deal?”
“Deal,” Starsky grinned back his answer. Just what I always wanted, a partner that thinks he’s Wyatt Earp. They rode the trails, criss-crossing each other, taking turns being in the lead, jumping the dirt bikes up and down some small inclines. Pulling into a sunny opening in one of the trails, Hutch slowed his bike to a stop, allowing Starsky to pull up along side.
“What?” Starsky asked over the sound of the idling bikes.
Hutch leaned over and kissed him. He pulled back for a brief second, giving Starsky a close-up view of his wind-flushed face and skewed blond hair before threading both his hands into Starsky’s hair and kissing him again. Deeper this time, with energy, yet different from the kisses that registered a greater passion to come, more like Hutch was putting all the intensity of his love in the kiss to give it to Starsky to hold and cherish. Pulling back again, Starsky watched as Hutch memorized his face with his sparkling blue eyes. “Nothing. I just love you, that’s all.” Hutch’s face flushed a little more. “You’re all I need to be thankful for,” he said softly, before he leaned back to square himself on his own bike once more. Then he gunned the throttle and took off again, leaving Starsky to follow, knowing there was a broad and sappy grin on his own face and not caring one bit.
Hutch turned his bike to the west-facing trail and led them to the area he had mentioned earlier–a grill area with tables and large shade trees. Since it was far from most of the cabin areas, it was totally empty. The grill areas that were closer in toward the lodge had swing sets and playground equipment and were the ones used far more frequently. Great, no one here, so we don’t have to watch out what we do or say–perfect.
They unpacked the fixings for lunch and sat roasting hot dogs on sticks, huddling close together and taking advantage of the warmth from the grill area against the nip in the breeze. Hutch finished off the last bite of meat on his stick and tossed the stick into the grill to burn. Looking up to the sky, he watched the clouds. “We might get some light snow tonight; the clouds look like it,” Hutch offered.
“I know the ski businesses will be glad. Snow’s so late this year there’s nothing but the man-made stuff, and it’s bad for business.”
“If you want to go up the mountain a little higher we could ski while we’re here. Check out the lift times and how much the tickets are at the lodge later tonight?” Hutch asked.
“Nah.” Starsky finished his own hot dog and broke the stick, flipping the pieces in the coals along with Hutch’s. “We can ski anytime. I like this.” He looped an arm around Hutch’s waist. “Just us, here. I don’t need a bunch of snow bunnies.”
“Good, I don’t either. I just didn’t want you to be bored,” Hutch answered.
Starsky slanted his head. “Seeing you relaxed and happy…God, Hutch, you think there’s any better turn on?”
Hutch looked up, his bright blue eyes becoming smoky. “Want to step behind a tree and make out?” Hutch teased.
“What’s the matter with right here?” Starsky demanded, his hand running down Hutch’s chest to cup the rapidly filling bulge in his jeans.
Hutch closed his eyes and arched his hips into the touch. With a groan deep in his throat, Hutch pulled back and grasped Starsky’s hand. “It’s too cold to spend the ride home with wet and sticky jeans. Come here.” Hutch walked slightly off the path to swing Starsky around and behind a cluster of three very old trees. Pressing him back against the center tree’s bark, he kissed Starsky again, hot tongue demanding entrance as his hands roamed possessively over Starsky’s chest under the open jacket. Hutch’s lips kissed over his jaw and down his neck, as he slowly sunk to his knees in the pine straw at the foot of the trees.
Starsky sucked in his breath, feeling Hutch’s fingers expertly open his belt and jeans, freeing the rock hardness behind the zipper and engulfing it in the warm moist heat of Hutch’s mouth. “Oh, God…so good, damn…” Starsky threw his head back slightly with a wince, as it impacted with the knotty tree behind him.
Hutch’s hands ran down Starsky’s hips, pulling his jeans down further and giving Hutch access to run both hands firmly down the back of Starsky’s thighs. Starsky bucked his hips forward, matching Hutch’s rhythm, loving the feel of those long strong fingers as they ran up and down his legs. He knew Hutch could feel the fine tremors passing through them. Each time he shook, Hutch seemed to hang on harder. “Almost there…allllmmmmooosstttttt. Oh, God. Now!
Ahhhhhhhh…shit….” Starsky trembled much harder, the orgasm shaking him head to toe, as Hutch sucked him dry then planted soft, sweet kisses over his exposed thighs and lower belly.
Starsky felt his legs begin to buckle and expected Hutch to let him ease down. But his lover braced him with a shoulder until he got a better grip on Starsky’s waist, as he stood to steady him back against the tree.
“Don’t sit down, babe. Not in this pine straw. You’ll hate life later with the rash you’ll get.” Hutch looked at his face, obviously reveling in the sated expression Starsky knew he wore. He leaned forward to kiss Starsky quickly on the lips and give a playful nibble to his lower lip, before reaching down to pull up the jeans over Starsky’s goose-bump covered lower body.
Starsky was just preparing to trade places with his lover and give Hutch the ride he knew the blond was ready for, when they heard the sound of other dirt bikes on the trail. With a rueful smile, Hutch kissed him again quickly and stepped back, adjusting his hard-on in the process. “Luck of the draw…I’ll collect mine, later.”
“Count on it,” Starsky replied, sending Hutch his sexiest look and a wag of eyebrows.
Hutch bent down to pick up the empty cans where they had been sitting. “I’ll go set up some targets and be sure we’re clear. There’s a little bluff with nothing behind it but the water.”
Starsky went to the grill and scattered the coals to let the fire die out more quickly, ensuring that none of the small pieces of wood they’d tossed in were likely to fly out and cause a problem. “That ought to do it. Smokey’d be proud,” Starsky said, as he looked around and only saw one gun. “Hey, Hutch…you got the other gun?” Starsky yelled in the direction his partner had walked. Patting his pockets to verify he had the shotgun shells, he bent to get his own rifle off the dirt bike where it was secured, then turned to follow his lover. He slipped a little on some loose pine straw, as it rested over some rocks, and went down on one knee. Trying to get up, his sneakers slipped again and he fell harder, already off balance in his half-raised squat. He let go of the rifle to catch himself on both hands and jumped when the rifle went off on impact. The gunshot reverberated loudly, and Starsky stared dumbfounded at the gun. He rose and picked it up still looking at it in puzzlement.
“Did you hear that, Hutch? The damn thing went off!” Starsky brushed at the clinging leaves still stuck to one knee and continued walking up the hill. “I like the way you come running down here to see if I’m okay. It wasn’t my fault somebody came along and you didn’t get your turn,” he muttered.
“You could have told me you loaded it, for God’s sake,” Starsky offered a bit louder. “I said…I could have been killed.” Starsky’s voice carried louder still, a hint of irritation in it.
He felt his heartbeat quicken as the total silence registered. “Hutch?” He walked faster. “Hutch?!” With the continued silence Starsky broke into a run. “HUTCH! If you’re trying to be funny…” Starsky panted.
Starsky reached the bluff’s plateau and stopped dead in his tracks. his last breath left him in a whoosh, and he was completely unable to draw in another. There on the ground, Hutch lay face down, unmoving with a slowly spreading red stain on the back of his varsity jacket. “Oh, my God….”
Starsky dropped his gun from numb fingers and erupted forward, falling on his knees at Hutch’s side. With hands that trembled wildly, he reached for Hutch’s neck and was so relieved to find a pulse there it made his head spin. His relief was short-lived, when he looked down to the blood on the jacket. Stealing himself for what he’d find, he slowly eased the edge back, finding the buckshot pattern freely bleeding through Hutch’s shirt. Straightening Hutch’s far arm down at his side, he gently turned his friend to check his chest for exit wounds. “Your shirt’s so bloody, I can’t tell if…” his shaking fingers fumbled with the buttons, and, in fear and frustration, Starsky pulled out Hutch’s shirt tails and ripped open the shirt.
“Damn, babe. some of the shots went right through ya.” Starsky looked around helplessly for a second, then quickly ripped off his own jacket and shirt, stripping out of the t-shirt underneath. With a jerk he tore it in two, pressing each piece against Hutch’s body on both wounds to his lower right side. He tucked it under Hutch’s belt a little, pulling the belt up on his torso and tightening it to the next tighter notch to help hold the makeshift bandage in place.
The tightening of the belt caused Hutch to moan, and he feebly moved his hands in the direction of his middle as if to push away the pain.
“Easy, easy…you’re going to be okay.” Starsky put Hutch’s jacket back over him for warmth and used the extra bulk of it to further press on the wounds, frantic to stop the bleeding.
Hutch cried out against the pressure, and he opened his eyes trying to focus. “W-what the…hell happened?”
Starsky swallowed hard, fighting for control. “Hutch…the ground was slippery…I fell…” Starsky’s voice cracked a bit in spite of his best efforts. At the increasing wide-eyed stare coming from Hutch, Starsky couldn’t finish.
“You?” Hutch croaked. “You handle a gun every day of your life, and you walk up a hill with a loaded gun and the safety off?” Hutch grimaced and turned his face away. “Fuck…when I get better, I’m going to kick your ass.”
Starsky felt his anger build at the accusation of negligence fueled avidly by his fear. “I didn’t take the safety off, and I didn’t load the gun either!” he yelled.
Hutch’s gaze snapped back. “The shells didn’t jump in it. I didn’t load yours; I didn’t even load my own.
Starsky opened his mouth then closed it, his anger slowly replaced by confusion. Starsky glanced to his right where Hutch’s shotgun lay in the dirt. He reached out and picked it up, then pointed it skyward pulling the trigger. The silence was broken by gunfire, its echo accompanied by the fluttering down of small pieces of bark and colorful leaf fragments. “That was your gun. The safety’s on and it’s not loaded? Just like I thought mine was.”
Hutch stared. “What? I…?” Hutch shook his head, struggling to find some logic.
Starsky waved him off. “I don’t get it either.” He looked with dismay at Hutch’s wounds. “Make like one of those Hindu guys and stop bleeding, will ya?”
“Yeah, I’ll try. Go get the bikes and let’s get out of here,” Hutch said, obviously feeling more pain now that the shock was wearing off.
Starsky rose to his feet, and with a look around he moved away from Hutch, back to the area where the bikes were standing. He reached in his pocket for his keys, frowning as Hutch’s blood on his hands made them hard to press into the pocket. He finally secured them and threw his leg over the bike and gave it a kick. Nothing. Kicking again yielded the same result. He looked down to be sure the gas was on and saw a gaping hole in the top of the engine where the spark plug should have rested. With a sick feeling in his stomach, he moved to Hutch’s bike seeing the same thing. With a vicious kick of frustration, he knocked Hutch’s bike over and ran back up the hill.
“We ain’t goin’ anywhere on the bikes. Someone took the spark plugs out.”
“What?”
“So much for thinking this was a coincidence or weapon malfunction, huh?”
“After my gun went off, too? Did you ever really think that?”
“No, but I was hoping. What the hell is going on? Nobody knows us up here. We’re not working a case, damn it,” Starsky said.
Hutch closed his eyes against the pain and let out a careful sigh.
“If it had to be one of us, I wish it had been me.” Hutch’s eyes opened in instant dispute of Starsky’s statement. “I’m going to have a hell of a time getting you out of here. Daniel Boone, I’m not.”
“Help me up. I can walk.”
“Yeah, right,” Starsky mumbled, as he reached for Hutch’s outstretched hand to slowly level him to his feet. Hutch’s knees eventually stabilized as if, at least for the moment, they would hold him.
“How’m I doin’?” Hutch asked.
“Great!” Starsky answered, as he hoisted Hutch’s right arm over his shoulder and pressed his partner tightly against him and they started off.
Hutch leaned more and more heavily against Starsky. every step was punctuated with an irregular breath as it painfully jarred him.
“Doin’ okay?” Starsky asked, himself panting.
“Yeah. How about you?” Hutch asked through clenched teeth.
“Terrific,” Starsky answered, adjusting Hutch’s weight against him, his own chest hurting as the movement caused Hutch to sound out a small whimper of renewed pain.
Starsky blinked to get the sweat out of his eyes that persisted in spite of the increasingly cooling wind as the afternoon wore on. He was practically carrying Hutch now rather than just supporting him. He could hear his own heartbeat roar in his ears and couldn’t bear to think what Hutch must be feeling. Maybe I should suggest I stuff you someplace behind a log or something and go run for help. I’d get there quicker, but I’m too afraid to leave you alone and unprotected. What if I got turned around and got lost or something, what if when I got back with help… Starsky shut down the thought with a resonant slam.
Hutch’s knees buckled with the next attempt at a step. He tried to right himself but his legs gave way. Hutch’s face contorted in pain, “Stop…”
Starsky turned and eased Hutch down to rest his back against a tree. “Okay, we’ll both rest a minute.” Starsky flopped down next to Hutch, breathing almost as hard. He glanced over at Hutch’s pale and sweating face and gingerly lifted the jacket. What he saw made him frown. He could feel Hutch’s eyes on him and wished he’d steeled the look before Hutch saw it. The two men sat there in silence for a few more minutes before Starsky pushed himself off the tree with a grunt. “You ready? I’d like to make it to a main road or another cabin before it gets dark.”
“Where the hell is the guy on the bike that interrupted us before?” Hutch asked not moving.
“Yeah, where’s a voyeur when you need one, huh? Come on, babe. Let’s get moving.”
Hutch reached out his hand and groaned loudly in spite of the efforts not to. His teeth had bitten into his lower lip so much it was starting to swell. Once upright, Hutch’s legs seemed unable to hold him; they trembled and buckled almost immediately. Starsky steadied him once more against the tree, then, grabbing his arm, hoisted him fireman-style over his shoulder. Starsky walked unsteadily for several minutes when he heard Hutch groan again.
“I can’t…stop, please…” Hutch said hoarsely.
Starsky slowed and went to one knee to allow Hutch to slip gently off his shoulder to rest against a rock outcropping. “What is it, buddy?”
“I can’t take the bouncing anymore. It’s killing me. You’ve got a gait like a Clydesdale,” Hutch tried to joke.
“Yeah, well, I’ve had knapsacks that fit better than you. You’re all legs.” Starsky panted, his hand reaching to weave their fingers together and squeeze tightly.
Hutch threaded his free hand inside his jacket to press against his side; when he released it, it came away bloody. He hastily rubbed it off on his jeans, hoping Starsky hadn’t seen it. But he had.
“How much further to the main road?” Starsky asked.
“I don’t know. We zigzagged so much on the way it’s hard to tell. Shouldn’t be more than a mile or so.”
“Okay, we can do that.”
“Right, piece’a cake. Just let me rest a minute.”
Starsky closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then sat up, sliding his hand out of Hutch’s to look at his wounds. The bleeding had soaked Starsky’s makeshift bandage and was leaching down his jeans. “Okay, you dumb cop. You’ve shown me you can bleed, now clot, will ya?”
“I’m working on it, honest.” Hutch didn’t even open his eyes as he spoke.
“You ready?” Starsky asked, rising stiffly.
Hutch looked up at him. Starsky recognized the look on his face and dreaded the upcoming conversation.
“Starsk, you can’t carry me anymore…and I can’t take it anymore, even if you could. Let me wait here while you–”
“No! No way. we stay together. We got no clue where whatever whacko it is who wanted to hurt us is, or why he’s doing this. I won’t leave you alone and unprotected. We stay together…like always,” he finished softer.
Starsky pulled Hutch to his feet, steadying him. “Here, let me put you on my back instead of over my shoulder. Maybe it’ll be easier,” Starsky said, as he took both of Hutch’s hands to draw them over his own shoulders and support Hutch against his back. Grunting under the weight, he started moving off slowly.
“Happy hernia, hard-head,” Hutch hissed.
The trail curved back on itself and became a bit rockier. Starsky’s tennis shoes slipped and he went down heavily on one knee. Hutch cried out at the jostling. “Oh, God, Starsk. Please…no more…let me off.”
Starsky eased the roll of Hutch’s body off his back. “I’m not going any farther,” Hutch moaned determinedly. “Get out of here and get some help before it’s dark and we get lost and freeze.” Hutch tried to straighten a bit more, shaking his head against the pain any movement caused.
“I’m not leaving you,” Starsky answered as hotly as before.
“Please, babe. I’m really feeling like shit…it’s all I can do to try and stay conscious. Don’t do this. I can’t take any more. Let’s not kid ourselves. we both know I’m still bleeding. I need to get help soon. You leaving me here is the quickest way to get it. Don’t be stubborn.” Hutch fixed Starsky with a look. “Please, don’t make me move anymore…”
Starsky felt his stomach roll in panic. God, Hutch, please don’t ask me to leave you.
Starsky opened his mouth to argue but snapped his head to the upper trail instead. “What was that?”
“I didn’t hear–”
“Ssshhhh,” Starsky interrupted, scrambling to his feet. “Hey, over here… Hey!”
Starsky ran in the direction of the sound, praying it was help and that he hadn’t just given their location away to the bad guys.
At the fork in the trail, he ran into the source of the sound. “God, am I glad to see you,” he panted, breathlessly to the young woman on horseback.
“What’s wrong?”
“My partner’s hurt. Help me get him to a hospital,” Starsky turned motioning for her to follow.
“Our cabin’s closer,” she replied. “We can call for an ambulance from there. Where is he?”
“C’mon,” Starsky picked up speed running back down the hill where he’d left Hutch, skidding to a stop next to his injured partner. “Help’s here, babe. We’ll be at a hospital before you know it. Come on, get up. Just one more time. You’re gonna be okay.”
“Get down and hold the horse while I get him up there,” Starsky ordered, half dragging Hutch toward the animal.
Stacey dismounted and stared wide-eyed at Hutch. Holding the reins she steadied the horse, while Starsky manhandled him awkwardly up into the saddle.
“Get up there and hold on to him, I don’t know if he can hold on by himself, right now…”
Stacey backed away with a horrified look on her face. “I can’t…I…can’t…” She struggled to gain control. “I wouldn’t be strong enough to hold him if he started to fall. You do it. I’ll walk Freckles.”
Not caring to hear her explanation, Starsky vaulted up on the horse behind Hutch, easing his friend back against his chest. “Let’s go,” he said when seated steadily.
Hutch rested heavily against him, and Starsky could feel his partner’s shallow breaths as he held him tightly. The fabric of Hutch’s clothes felt stiff where the blood had dried–warm and sticky where it still stubbornly oozed. “We’ll be someplace where you can lie down and get comfortable real soon, buddy. You’re gonna be all right. You hang in there.” Starsky’s whispered litany did little to quiet the gnawing fear in his stomach, and, with the way Hutch’s head was lolling to his shoulder, he doubted the blond had heard him anyway.
“What’s your name?” Starsky asked as they plodded along.
“Stacey Chandler. my father’s with the Forrest Service here.”
“I’m Dave Starsky; this is my partner, Ken Hutchinson. We’re cops.”
“Around here?”
“No, Bay City. We just came up…” to relax, he thought. What a joke. “…for a short vacation, until this happened.”
“What did happen? How did he get hurt?”
“I…I tripped and…the safety on the gun didn’t hold. It fired and he…was…up the hill ahead of…me.” Starsky could hardly force the words out of his throat, as the realization that he had shot his partner hit him, as surely as if the bullets from the shotgun were in his own flesh. He drew in a shaky breath, sickened.
He wasn’t sure how long the trip to the girl’s cabin took in actuality, but to Starsky up on a horse, No break, no gas pedal, no steering wheel, how do you handle one of these things, for God’s sake? the ride seemed interminable. It was with an audible sigh of relief he saw the clearing of the woods and a cabin with an American flag on a pole out front. There was a small wood-carved sign near the entrance to the porch proclaiming the house to be the ranger station: San Gorgonio Station–U.S. Forest Service.
Stacey steadied the horse at the edge of the porch while Starsky dismounted. Hutch rocked forward once Starsky’s hold on him faltered, and it was all Starsky could do to catch him before he fell off the side of the horse’s neck. Hutch was clearly unconscious, his legs buckling as soon as his feet touched the ground. Starsky shouldered him upright enough to get Hutch’s torso levered over his body as he struggled to carry him inside the cabin door.
“Put him in there,” Stacey said, her voice thin and frightened sounding, as she pointed in the direction of a small room off the hall. “I’ll call my father and ask him to radio for an ambulance.”
“Call the police, too!” Starsky called after her, as he gently eased Hutch down on the bed.
“And bring me something I can use for bandages and a basin of warm water, please.”
Starsky closed his eyes for a second, taking in a steadying breath before he tentatively reached to remove Hutch’s jacket and shirt. The smell of blood permeated his nostrils, making his stomach roll. Pulling aside the stiff and sticky shirt, Starsky loosened the belt and the small bloody wad of t-shirt that had slipped uselessly off the wound. His eyes froze on the bruised and discolored flesh of Hutch’s right side, multiple small, dark and still oozing holes from the shotgun’s blast hypnotically holding him paralyzed. Each breath that moved Hutch’s abdomen caused a release of a small trickle of blood.
Finally jumping alert when Stacey entered the room, carrying some towels and a basin of water, he reached to pull the bloody wad completely away from Hutch’s body, rolling him slightly to the left side to check on the condition of the main injury at Hutch’s rear flank. Small pieces of his shirt could be seen caught partially in the flesh there. An erratic pattern of blast pellet penetration, bleeding more freely here than the front side, surrounded by an ugly swollen area of blue and purple.
Stacey gasped at the sight and literally ran from the room, her hand covering her mouth. Starsky could clearly hear the sounds of her retching coming from the other room. “God, Hutch, I’m sorry…babe, I’m so sorry…” Blinking the blur of threatening tears away with a vengeance, he roughly wiped his hand over his face. Taking a wet cloth, he gently dabbed away the dirt and as much of the old dried blood as would easily come away without causing more bleeding. He covered the area with a dry towel, then eased Hutch onto his back and did the same for the front side. Once it, too, was covered with a clean and dry towel, he rolled Hutch to lie on his right side, letting his own body hold the direct pressure on his wounds. The movement brought a groan from Hutch’s pale lips, and Starsky quickly ran his hand over Hutch’s cheek in an offer of comfort.
“I know it hurts, Hutch. But we’ve got to do something to make the bleeding stop. You’re gonna be okay, I swear. I’ll get you out of here,” Starsky whispered, bringing his face down to almost touch his lover’s as he spoke.
“The phone’s dead,” Stacey’s voice was small sounding in the still room, but when the ramifications of what she’d said registered, Starsky’s ears rang as if he’d been too close to an explosion. He stared at Stacey for a few seconds, barely seeing her frightened face before turning back to look at his lover. Still, pale and no closer to the medical help he so badly needed than when they were still on the trail in the woods.
Starsky swallowed down his panic, and, pulling the blankets a little higher to cover his lover, he stood and backed away from the bed. With a hand on Stacey’s arm, he led her away from the door, out of earshot should Hutch waken.
“What do you mean the phone’s dead?”
“There isn’t a dial tone. It worked last night; I called a friend. I didn’t notice that I hadn’t used it today. my dad’s been gone, and I was out riding most of the day. I just didn’t notice…I’m sorry.” Stacey’s voice had taken on a frightened shaken quality again.
“It’s okay, not your fault. Is there a radio or something else around here? I mean your dad must have a way to communicate with his job, right?”
“There’s a CB but it’s in his truck and he’s got that with him. The base station for the house is in the shop getting new crystals put in it before fire season. There isn’t anything else here.”
“How far away is the lodge?” Starsky asked. “How long would it take me to ride your horse there?” he shuddered at the thought.
“You ride? W-wait a minute. You aren’t thinking of leaving and having me watch your partner, are you? I can’t do that. You don’t understand…” she started backing away from him, wide-eyed.
“It’s dark out there. I don’t want you riding alone,” Starsky tried to offer reasonably.
“No! No, I won’t stay here. I can’t do it. My mother died in a car wreck…I was in the car…there was blood everywhere. I can’t do that, I can’t.” Stacey was backing away, clutching her arms across her middle. “I can ride in the dark. I’ve done it lots of times. I’m not afraid and I know the way. I can do it.”
“Okay, don’t get excited…give me a minute to think.”
“I was hoping Smitty would have another delivery out this way and stop by, maybe he still will. He’d have a car.”
“Is he the only one who delivers supplies out here?” Starsky asked.
“When he’s around; otherwise Mr. Yarbrough does it. Why?”
“I was wondering if he was the one who delivered our supplies yesterday.”
“Probably. since he’s been back, Mr. Yarbrough gives him most of the deliveries.”
“Back from where?” Starsky asked, catching that Stacey had made that same reference twice.
“You sound like a cop. why all the questions?” Stacey asked, suspiciously.
“I am a cop! I told you that. And right now I want to know who filed the safety down on those two shotguns, and who loaded them and why.” Starsky took a menacing step forward.
“Now, back from where?” he continued hotly.
“P-prison…he just got out. But that doesn’t mean he did anything wrong. Smitty wouldn’t do anything to hurt anybody. He wouldn’t.” Stacey snatched her jacket up off the hook by the door.
“Somebody did. And I’ll find out who just as soon as I get Hutch to the hospital.” Starsky knew his look left nothing to question.
“I better get going so I can get to the lodge before Mr. Yarbrough goes down the mountain for the night.” Stacey opened the cabin door. “It’ll take about an hour for me to get to the lodge. I’m sure help will arrive here before I can get back on Freckles.” She stopped, looking back toward the room where Hutch was. “I’m sorry about your friend.” She closed the door after her with a quiet snick.
Starsky paced around the room in frustration, then went back to the doorway to check on his lover. The light from the main room glinted off Hutch’s hair and the sweat on his face. Even in the dim light, Starsky could see Hutch grimace and toss restlessly in pain. “Oh, God, Hutch…” Starsky whispered as he walked slowly to the bed to sit down, engulfing his lover in his arms gently. “This sure isn’t what I had in mind for our Thanksgiving,” Starsky closed his eyes, wishing he could take the pain away for even a little while so his love could rest. “Now I know how you felt when you told me that. How much you wished you could take my pain for a while and give me a break. But you weren’t the one who caused the pain in the first place…not like now. I’m so sorry, babe.”
Don snickered as he adjusted his hold on the briefcase he carried. Tossing it in the back seat as he slid behind the wheel, he sat down with a short laugh out loud. “I wish you could have seen the look on that cop’s face when the gun went off. Then he walks up the hill and sees his partner laid out. Man, it couldn’t have been any better if we’d planned it that way.”
“How long before we split up the money from this last job and shut everything down?” Smitty asked with a growl from the back seat.
“What’s the matter?” Don asked with false concern. “Getting nervous?”
“I just want it done and over with. I want you two long gone and far away, and I never want to see or hear from you again,” Smitty answered.
“Did everything go as planned?” Harry asked, ignoring the bickering of the other two.
“Piece’a cake. It went just like you planned it,” Don answered, slowly pulling the car into traffic.
“Good, then we’ll get back to the cabin and take care of all the last minute details there,” Harry affirmed.
They drove back up the winding mountain road in silence, passing the lodge and other buildings at the resort center, driving slowly up the dirt road.
“Isn’t that your little friend, Smitty? That ranger’s daughter?” Don asked slowing the car down a little on the rutty road.
Smitty leaned forward in the back seat to look. “Yeah, that’s her.”
“What’s she doing out here? Stop and see where she’s going,” Harry ordered.
Smitty rolled down his window as Don slowed the car next to Stacey and her horse. “Stacey, where are you going this time of night?” Smitty asked.
“Oh, it’s you,” Stacey breathed, relief evident. “Our phone is out, and I’ve got this guy at my place that was hurt in an accident. I need to call an ambulance.”
Harry rolled his window down, too. “It’s too late for you to be riding around alone on these trails, young lady. You go back to your cabin, and we’ll call for you. He’ll probably be on his way to medical help before you even get home,” Harry said, smiling smoothly.
“Thanks a lot! I really appreciate it. I hope I get back before they leave, though. I want to see his face when I tell him who called for help.”
“What do you mean?” Don asked, leaning forward to hug the steering wheel.
“Just because Smitty had some trouble in the past, that guy jumped to all sorts of crazy conclusions…just like a cop!” Stacey reined her horse around the back of the car and started home, calling over her shoulder, “Thanks again. See you later.”
“Indeed you shall, young lady.” Harry turned abruptly in his seat to fix Smitty with a glare. “How much have you told her?”
“Nothing!” Smitty snapped back. “She knows I’m an ex-con. Everybody around here does. You can’t have a parole officer nose around and keep it quiet in a place like this.”
“You dumb shit. that’s all they need to start digging around. If they suspect you…that will lead them to us,” Don growled.
“Drive to the cabin, and we’ll take care of this ourselves,” Harry said as he turned back to face the front.
Starsky was pacing. a look at his watch for the hundredth time did nothing to make time pass any faster. He felt an uncommon sense of vulnerability. Here in the woods, totally out of his element, unarmed, with a partner he feared was dying before his eyes. He took another glance out the window, but like every glance before, there were no lights or sounds that indicated help to be forthcoming. “Maybe there’s a gun here; at least I wouldn’t feel so naked,” Starsky muttered, as he began to rifle through the closets and drawers. Slamming the last drawer shut loudly in frustration, he jumped and dropped to a defensive crouch when the front door opened.
“You’re still here?” Stacey asked surprised. “I thought you’d have been gone by now.”
“How long did they say before they could get a unit out here?” Starsky asked.
“Oh, I didn’t talk to anyone. I didn’t have to go all the way to the lodge,” Stacey smiled smugly, as she went to the kitchen to get a soda out of the refrigerator. “I met Smitty and the man he sometimes works for on the way. They said they could get help sent quicker than I could.” Stacey stopped to take a drink then continued, “So what does your suspicious mind say now, huh?”
“It says I hope like hell I’m wrong.” Starsky looked toward the bedroom where Hutch lay. “Does your father have a gun here?” he asked, turning back to Stacey.
“Yes, there’s one in the bedroom closet where your friend is, and hunting rifles out in the garage in the back. Why?”
“Because we left our service revolvers in the cabin,” Starsky admitted grimly. Why the hell did we ever think we could be like John Q. Public on vacation? We should have told them the hell with the rules and kept them on us.
Starsky walked quietly into the room where Hutch was, opening the closet door and feeling around on the top shelf until his hand found the leather of a holster. Bringing it down, he checked the revolver. It was empty. Running his hand up on the shelf again, he stretched until he found a box of shells and quickly loaded the gun.
A soft moan turned his attention to the man on the bed. He rested the gun on the nightstand and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, turning Hutch from his back to rest on his right side again. “Try to stay like this, babe, and lie still. If you move around a lot, I’m afraid you’ll start bleeding again.”
“It’s hot in here,” Hutch complained, as he pushed angrily at the blankets. “I can’t lay like this; it hurts like hell. I need to get up.” Hutch rolled back and began to struggle against Starsky’s attempt to hold him still.
“No, way. You’re not going anywhere. Hutch, c’mon, babe. Don’t fight me.”
“I’ve got to get up!” Hutch insisted. “I’ve got to pee.”
Starsky sighed, “Okay, let me go see if I can find an old milk carton or something.”
“Like hell. There’s a bathroom right there.” Hutch let his chin jut in the direction of the partially closed door next to the closet. “Just help me up.”
Starsky took a breath to argue, but let it out in defeat as Hutch struggled to sit up.
“I’ve got to go now. are you going to help or not?” Hutch hissed through gritted teeth.
“Yeah, I’ll help. take it easy, move real slow, okay?”
Hutch shot him a look that Starsky would have laughed at if he hadn’t felt so afraid. He steadied Hutch, once he pulled him to stand, and they moved slowly toward the bathroom, Starsky taking an ever increasing amount of Hutch’s weight as they went. Hutch’s belt was already open and his zipper was already down. A quick reach and he was ready. Starsky held one arm around Hutch’s waist to continue supporting him. Hutch’s hand rested on Starsky’s forearm for additional support. Starsky’s eyes keenly watched his lover’s pale face, taking in the dark circles that stood out under his closed eyes. He was completely taken by surprise when Hutch’s fingers suddenly dug into his arm like a vice.
“Oh, shit! That burns,” Hutch cried out, his eyes shutting tightly in pain as he let his head fall forward looking down. Starsky followed his gaze and felt his stomach twist like he’d been stabbed. The stream of urine coming from Hutch was dark and unmistakably bloody.
Hutch gave a shudder as he finished and tucked his penis back in his pants. taking a step toward the sink, he turned on the water to wash his hands, rubbing to get the dried blood from the trail off. Starsky swiped his own hands over the bar of soap and helped get Hutch’s hands cleaner. With a cursory swipe of a hand towel, he dried them and steered the blond back to bed.
“C’mon, back to bed. The ambulance will be here any minute, and we’ll be on our way to some help. How you doin’, huh? You hear what I said?” Starsky filled the silence with his fear, needing to say something that would calm them both.
Hutch stretched out his hand reaching for the mattress, letting Starsky help him raise his feet and legs. “Oh, God, I hurt,” Hutch moaned, as he turned his face into the sweaty pillow.
“I know, babe…I know. Help’s coming,” Starsky whispered, praying it was true.
Starsky drew the covers back up over Hutch and walked angrily out into the main room of the cabin.
“There isn’t any help coming!” Starsky said with an ever-increasing volume. “They aren’t coming because your friend never called for help, and I want to know why!” Starsky grabbed her arm and began to propel Stacey toward the bedroom. “You get in there and sit with him while I go–”
“No, I can’t…I won’t. I don’t know why they aren’t here yet. But it’s not what you think. Maybe their phone was out, too, and they had to drive for a while to get to one that works. Maybe the phone is out at the lodge, too. I’ll go to where my dad is. even if the phone is out at the tower, he’ll have the CB with him and I can use that,” Stacey’s eyes were tearing and she was trembling as she spoke.
“You can’t go out there alone.”
“I can’t stay here alone. Not in there with him. I’m a lot less likely to get lost out there than you are. I’ve lived here most of my life. I can’t stay here with your friend; I’m sorry. I just can’t.”
Stacey mounted her horse and took off at a trot, Starsky standing on the porch watching her go until her form faded in the darkness. He slowly walked back inside and went to the kitchen, rummaging around until he found what he needed to make coffee. Once it was ready, he poured a cup and sat down at the small table. He heard an indistinct mumble coming from the bedroom, and he left his cup to go and check on his partner. Hutch was tossing fitfully, eyes moving rapidly behind closed lids.
“I can’t do it…I’m not gonna make it this way. Starsk, please…” Hutch’s breaths were coming faster, and his eyes were open but unseeing. “Go get me something…send Huggy…just this once, then I’ll be okay. Please, Starsk, help me…it hurts…I’m sick…”
Starsky moved quickly to the bed, sitting on the edge. “Easy, easy, Hutch. I’m here, it’s okay.”
Hutch grabbed Starsky’s arm and shook him slightly, “Starsky…help me!” Hutch’s voice rose to almost shouting. “Help me! Get me a fix!”
Starsky jumped back slightly in total shock until he realized Hutch was still asleep–dreaming–in the throes of a nightmare from the past. “Hutch, c’mon, babe. Wake up. Look at me, can you? Hutch?”
Hutch’s facial expression changed, and his eyes went from glazed to more aware, although the pain in them was still evident. Hutch glanced at Starsky then quickly around the room before letting his raised head fall back to the pillow. “Oh, God.”
“You with me?” Starsky asked.
“Yeah…bad dream… I was in that room over–”
“Yeah,” Starsky interrupted. “I know where you were.”
“Bad dream…”
“Worse than the one we’re having now?” Starsky asked grimly.
“We were at Huggy’s. It would have felt better to die. You kept telling me it was gonna be over soon, and all I wanted was out the door.” Hutch closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath.
“You haven’t had that dream in a long time.” Starsky rubbed along Hutch’s tense arm. “It’s been over a long time. Try to forget it.”
Hutch began to shiver with a chill, as his temperature continued to rise. Starsky slipped off the edge of the bed to kneel on the floor beside Hutch’s head and cradle him. Hutch gritted his teeth against the pain of the shaking and clung to Starsky, grabbing handfuls of his shirt front. “And when is this one going to be over, buddy?” Hutch asked weakly.
“Soon, help’s coming.”
“What the hell did we stumble into?”
“I don’t know, but somebody obviously thinks we do.”
“I feel sick…” Hutch leaned over the side of the bed, as Starsky hastily grabbed for the small trash can. Hutch retched a few times before finally bringing up a small amount of bile. “Damn, that hurts,” Hutch moaned.
Starsky eased Hutch back to the pillow, taking the wet cloth from where he’d hung it last on the headboard to wipe over Hutch’s face and neck. “Try to relax. It’s going to be okay. I love you, did I say that today?” Starsky asked, forcing the words around a too-tight throat.
“I think so, but it’s still good to hear. I love you, too,” Hutch answered, leaning into the soothing wipes of the cool cloth. Hutch closed his eyes and gradually relaxed back into a light doze.
The car crawled toward the clearing where the cabin sat–tiny squares of yellow from the small windows the only break in the darkness.
“You play it just like I told you. Explain about the big phone failure and make him believe help is on the way. While you’re convincing him you just stopped by to see if you could help, that will give Don time to get in through the back door.”
“Yes, I got it,” Smitty answered, starting to get out of the car.
“Leave your gun here. People don’t come offering help armed, you idiot.”
Smitty removed the small caliber handgun from his waistband and dropped it to the seat, then got out and, with a silent close of the door, walked stiffly toward the cabin.
Harry reached into the back seat and picked up Smitty’s gun. With his handkerchief, he wiped off any prints there and handed the gun to Don who was wearing gloves. “You know how to do it. You shouldn’t have any trouble making it look right, with the girl gone.”
Don nodded and got quietly out of the car. He crouched low to run to the rear of the cabin.
Smitty glanced to the side as he saw Don creep by, then took a deep breath and knocked loudly on the front door. “Hello… I came to help. Can I come in?”
Starsky got awkwardly to his knees and rushed to the door as it was opening and Smitty was walking inside. “You’re alone? Where’s the ambulance?”
“It’s coming. All the phones on this side of the mountain are out. It happens sometimes. I drove over to Riverhead and reported it. They’ll send the rescue squad from there. It should be here soon.”
“God, if I hear that one more time, I’ll kill something,” Starsky snarled, running his hands through his hair in frustration. Glancing back up at Smitty warily, he said, “Thanks for coming by to give me the word. Did you pass Stacey on the road?”
“Stacey? No, not since we saw her heading toward the lodge. Didn’t she get back here?” Smitty asked, his voice obviously nervous as his eyes kept darting around the room.
Starsky felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, and he took a tentative step toward the bedroom where Hutch and the gun were, when the back door exploded open.
“Don’t even think about moving, cop,” Don shouted, leveling his gun at Starsky’s chest.
“This is the help you brought?” Starsky asked sarcastically. “Thanks a hell of a lot.”
Smitty didn’t meet Starsky’s eyes but took a few steps toward Don. “Stay where you are, Smitty,” Don’s order brought him up short.
“Huh?” Smitty asked.
“You heard me,” Don answered, waving the gun between Smitty and Starsky ominously.
“Hey, what the hell are you doing?”
“You’re an amateur. You get scared too easily. You’ve got a loud mouth, kid, and Harry thinks it needs to be shut.”
“No, I don’t believe you. Harry never would’ve said that. This is your idea so there’s a bigger cut for you.” Smitty turned to make a run for the front door, but was shot before getting very far. He fell to the floor unmoving–the location of the shot leaving little doubt that he was mortally wounded.
Don walked over to Smitty, giving him a nudge with a booted foot. Satisfied that he was dead, he turned back to face Starsky. Starsky moved slowly to his left to keep Don moving a bit. He could see Hutch’s legs, as they had slipped over the side of the bed, and knew the gunshot had awakened his partner. He wanted to keep Don’s back squarely facing the bedroom to give Hutch his best chance. “So you used one gun on Smitty, and now you’ll use that other one in your belt on me, right?” Starsky said, moving a little more.
“Right, smart cop. They do it in the movies all the time.” Don’s laugh was hollow.
“What about Hutch?”
“He’ll get his last. I got to drag him in here. Maybe I won’t shoot him again at all. He won’t last long if I rough him up enough to start the bleeding again. After all, that wasn’t my bullet in the first place, was it?” Don laughed again, an ugly mocking sound.
Starsky felt an all-consuming rage begin to build. “It was you! You loaded the guns then jimmied them so they’d fire with the safety on. You son-of-a-bitch!”
“Hey, it was so sweet, I couldn’t believe it. I was just squeezing off my shot when you tripped and fell. Couldn’t have gone better if I’d planned it that way. You should have seen the look on your face.”
Hutch rested one shoulder against the doorframe and brought the ranger’s revolver up with both hands. “Keep laughing, turkey!” Hutch said, his voice raspy. “Just drop the gun and assume the position–on your face, palms on the floor.” Hutch held the gun steady although, as Starsky stared, he had no idea how. His lover’s face was grey and even in the poor light, he could catch the sheen of sweat shining off it.
Don halfway turned in surprise and Starsky leaped at him. Hutch stood, his gun wavering as the two men struggled, fighting viciously. Don’s gun hand was grabbed securely by Starsky and slammed repeatedly against Starsky’s upraised knee, until lax fingers finally loosened. With a left hook, Starsky knocked Don to the ground and wasted no time in pouncing on the fallen man. Starsky straddled him, pining his arms with both knees, rendering him helpless and proceeded to pummel Don, striking him repeatedly, venting his rage.
A cold and shaking hand gripping his shoulder stopped the follow-through of his upraised arm, and he gave Hutch a glance and released Don’s shirt front to let the man’s head clunk loudly on the floor.
“Starsky, he’s done. Stop it,” Hutch said, his voice weak and shaky.
Starsky was breathing hard and just sat there on the other man before, with a curt nod, he slid off and stood. He reached to take the gun from Hutch’s trembling hand and walked his partner over to one of the kitchen chairs to sit down.
“I hope you saved some energy for the guy outside,” Hutch teased as his eyes closed, no longer able to focus.
Starsky smiled a little sheepishly, then walked back over to Don to jerk his jacket down off his shoulders and ram both of Don’s hands inside his belt at his back, rolling him back to rest his weight on them. Next, Starsky grabbed another kitchen chair and sat it down over Don’s chest. “There, if he moves we’ll know about it.” Starsky handed Hutch the gun from Smitty’s belt. “I won’t ask you how many people you see when you look at this guy, right now. I don’t want to know.”
“I’ll just aim at the one in the middle,” Hutch answered going with the joke. “Just hurry back…I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Terrific,” Starsky muttered, as he ran silently out the back door to circle around to the car he knew was outside somewhere in the darkness waiting.
Starsky ran quietly down the trail and spotted the car where it was parked. He could make out the shadow of a man in the passenger seat. Covering ground quickly, he reached the back of the car and got down on all fours to crawl to the driver’s side door. Taking a calming breath, he jumped up stabbing his gun through the open widow to point at Harry’s head.
“Don’t move…it wouldn’t break my heart to shoot you. Throw your gun out your window and slide over here.”
“I’m not armed,” Harry replied, hands in the air.
“Get over here where I can see you better. Move real slow; I’m tired and hungry and a little stressed right now, so don’t push it. You’ll be the loser, I promise you.” Starsky’s tone was lethal.
Harry slowly slid over the seat, both hands up in the air until he dropped them to use the steering wheel to aid his progress out of the car. Once the door was opened and Harry turned in the seat, he let one of his hands drop to the seat and slide below it. Starsky caught the motion and slammed the open door back against Harry’s body, knocking him off balance as Harry brought the gun he snagged from under the seat up in preparation to fire. The round discharged from the gun crashing out the windshield. With a vicious snap of Harry’s wrist, Starsky pulled the gun free of the shocked fingers.
“Starsky? You okay?” Hutch called from inside the cabin.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Stay put. I don’t want you to fall down and I’ll have to pick you up again,” Starsky called back the order, and was amazed when Hutch apparently did as he asked.
Harry cradled his injured wrist tightly against his body, as Starsky motioned him out the door as he held it open. The older man slowly complied.
In the distance, Starsky could hear the sound of approaching sirens and, looking toward the sound, saw the irregular reflection of flashing red lights in the darkness. About damned time, he thought grimly.
The ambulance pulled up close to the house, followed by a small jeep vehicle. Once the jeep came to a stop, Starsky saw Stacey jump out of the passenger side. With a shout of, “Stacey, don’t go in there,” he tried to divert her attention, but it was too late. She ran up the cabin’s front steps to come face to face with Smitty’s dead body by the front door. The man driving the jeep hurried after her, guessing Starsky’s shout to be a warning. Pushing the older man forward, Starsky moved toward the cabin. Once on the porch he saw Stacey hiding her face in the chest of the large man wearing the ranger uniform.
“You wouldn’t have any handcuffs on you, would you?” Starsky asked the big man.
“No, but I’ve got plenty of rope,” the ranger answered, taking Stacey with him away from the door, walking back to the jeep and helping her inside. He was back quickly with a length of stout rope and expertly tied Starsky’s charge to the banister of the front porch. With a final jerk to the rope, he cut the end cleanly and took several long strides inside his own cabin to do the same with the still unconscious man on the floor.
Hutch was lying on the couch being attended to by the paramedics when Starsky entered.
They had Hutch’s shirt open and the makeshift bandages removed to examine his wounds. Starsky cringed at the purple flesh, and stood near Hutch’s head where it rested on the arm of the couch to offer a hand to hold against the pain as the dressing stuck to the wound before it pulled away.
Starsky looked up to see Stacey’s tear-streaked face by the door. With a sad glance down at the body her father was covering with a blanket, she looked back at Starsky accusingly. “Why? What did you have to kill him for?”
“They were crooks!” Starsky answered, his own fear and fatigue preventing him from answering her gently. “Exactly what they were into, I don’t know, but they thought we did. It was enough to kill Hutch and me over. Smitty was their weak link so they disposed of him. I didn’t do it, but I couldn’t stop it, either. If Hutch hadn’t gotten to a gun, there would have been a real bloodbath for you to come home to.”
The ranger came to stand next to his daughter. putting an arm around her, he whispered something and turned her once more to wait outside. “The San Bernadino Sheriff will be here soon; he’ll take care of these two,” he said indicating the two men tied up.
Starsky gave him a nod and turned his attention back to his partner, giving Hutch a hand to grab as the paramedic slid a needle in the vein of his left arm and taped it in place. The ambulance stretcher was moved alongside the couch and, once new dressings replaced old bloody ones, Hutch was lifted carefully onto it. Starsky held the IV bag and walked out with the crew toward the ambulance. Jumping up inside, he hung the IV on the hook in the wall and helped steer the stretcher into the wheel locks to secure it in place. “We made it, babe. Everything’s going to be fine.” Starsky leaned down to whisper into Hutch’s ear. With a tender stroke of his friend’s face, he squatted down moving farther back to make room for the attendant riding in the back with them.
Starsky walked down the corridor of the small community hospital, toward the room where his lover waited. The door was unaccustomedly closed, and he knocked softly before pushing it open.
The doctor who had been treating Hutch looked back over his shoulder. “Come in, I’m done here.” The doctor continued to probe over the dressings on Hutch’s side.
Hutch stiffened sharply as a sore spot was probed. “Still pretty tender, huh?”
“Yeah, it sure is,” Hutch answered.
“Well, everything looks good. The antibiotics are doing their job. As long as your urine remains clear and the fever stays down, there’s no reason you can’t go home in the next day or so. Keep pouring down the fluids to flush out the infection. I’ll check in on you later.”
“Thanks, doc,” Hutch answered, fumbling with the buttons on his pajama top as the doctor shook hands with Starsky on his way out the door.
Starsky moved closer to take the garment out of Hutch’s hands and finish buttoning it for him with a big grin on his face before settling in the nearby chair.
“You look incredibly pleased with yourself. What’s up?” Hutch asked.
“I just talked to Captain Dobey. Don is singing loud and long to try and take a lighter fall. According to him, these guys have pulled off quite a tirade of robberies between Sacramento and the state line into Nevada. Dobey’s fit to be tied. With half a dozen departments looking for these clowns, we get them on our vacation.” Starsky leaned back in the chair obviously pleased.
“I’m glad, ’cause I’ve got some bad news for you. I hate to–”
Starsky shot forward instantly. “You’re okay, aren’t you? The doctor didn’t say…?”
“No, no, I’m fine. Huggy just called…my car’s up on blocks.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Why is your car up on blocks, Hutch?” Starsky asked, knowing he didn’t want to hear the answer.
“Somebody ripped off all my tires,” Hutch answered trying to stifle a smile.
“All four?” Starsky squeaked.
“Well, no…only three. The one they left on it…was flat.”
“Move over,” Starsky said, as he stood shakily. “I’m not feeling so hot.”
Hutch laughed as much as his sore side would allow and dutifully moved to the far side of the bed, letting his lover slide in next to him. With a quick glance to be sure the door was closed tightly, Hutch turned his face to Starsky’s and planted a kiss on his lover’s lips, then rested back chuckling again, his arms held tightly against his middle.
Next week on Starsky & Hutch:
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