Space Cowboys

It always began the same way. He was high on a bluff overlooking the plains, staring out past the ambling fleep herd at the horizon. He couldn't remember now what he'd been thinking, probably something stupid. What he did remember was the sudden silence just before the screams began. It hadn't lasted very long, he thought, but in his dreams it always seemed to last forever. An eternity in which he could do nothing, his cry frozen in his throat.

Then all at once he's no longer on the bluff, but down in the thick of the carnage with terrified fleep everywhere. For a moment all he can see is fleep, then abruptly they part and he's staring up at the biggest, meanest rachya he's ever seen. He can't move, can't breathe. Fear holds him in an unbreakable grip.

He hears his mother's scream.

So does the rachya. It turns, and the spell is broken. Before he quite realizes it he's in the thick of the fleep herd, staring from between their legs in horror as the rachya slashes viciously at his mother. Her shock-lasso only seems to anger it. Where is his father and their blaster, he wonders in desperation, though he already knows the answer.

His father is dead, and he is forced to watch as the monster tears his mother into pieces.

Then it turns for him.

Every time he dreams, he's certain that this time it will get him. This time rescue won't come soon enough. But come it does, in the form of a great indigo dragon and its furious flame-haired rider. He's seen this man angry more than his fair share of times, but this is different. He's never seen Charlie Colcord like this before.

Sometimes he wonders if rachya can feel fear. If they can, then that one definitely did that day, looking into Charlie's eyes.

Then it's dead, and Charlie is turning toward him, the anger gone and deep pain and regret in its place. He kneels, holding out his arms. His mouth moves.

"Jeremey."

The sound of his name breaks something loose inside him, and he's never sure if he's screaming or crying. Perhaps both. Certainly in those early days he'd wake from the dream with tears on his cheeks and a scream in his throat, bringing everyone running to see what the fuss was.

These days he doesn't make a sound, though his cheeks are still wet when he manages to open his eyes.

Staring up at the featureless ceiling above, Jeremey concentrated on nothing but breathing, in and out, until the pattern steadied. Only then did he sit up, rubbing his hands over his face and wiping away the wetness there. He exhaled slowly before forcing himself to his feet, yanking the covers back into place with a flick of the wrist. Not exactly neat, but if Aunt Sue didn't like it she could damned well fix it herself. Even when Jeremey had still bothered to make the attempt it hadn't been good enough for her, so he'd long since quit trying.

Besides, if he was lucky, after today he'd never again have to sleep under his aunt's roof. Today was the day he'd been working toward for the last six years. Today everything was going to change. It had to. He'd make it change, no matter what anyone else thought.

Squaring his shoulders, Jeremey took a deep breath before shrugging out of the long johns he wore to bed (Aunt Sue had made it absolutely clear that he was not allowed to sleep naked under any circumstances) and rounding up his clothes. Underwear first, then shirt and pants, vest, leggings, belt... His boots took a minute to locate, one having wiggled its way beneath his bed and the other hiding under an extra blanket.

Last was his hat. That he never needed to hunt down, because it was always in exactly the same place, hanging over one of the bed posts. Not long after he'd first arrived in Aunt Sue's house his cousin Billy had gotten it into his head to 'relocate' Jeremey's hat. That incident had almost lost Jeremey his place in the house after he'd shown Billy the error of his thinking. It had resulted in most of the rules that Jeremey now chafed under. It had also meant that not a single one of his cousins would touch that hat under any circumstances.

He picked it up, running his fingers lightly along the brim before turning it and fitting it snugly over his head. It was still a bit too big, but then it probably always would be. No matter what Jeremey did with the rest of his life, he doubted he'd ever come anywhere close to matching Charlie Colcord's size. Few people could. The man looked like he could wrestle a rachya with his bare hands.

Shaking off his thoughts, Jeremey ran a quick mental check to make sure he had everything before squaring his shoulders and heading downstairs.

As usual, the conversation at the breakfast table stilled when he stepped into the kitchen. He ignored it, long used to the way his aunt and her family felt about him, and set about serving himself. His youngest cousin subtly scooted her chair away from his when he sat down, and Jeremey pretended he hadn't noticed. Life as usual.

He ate without really tasting anything, just wanting to get the meal over with so he could escape from the house. He'd never really cared for the indoors all that much as a child, and he cared for them even less now. Inside there were fewer places to run, and far more corners to get trapped in. No, he didn't like the indoors one bit.

"So, today's the day, huh?" Aunt Sue's husband Robert asked, his cheer a little too obviously forced.

"Yeah," Jeremey muttered without looking up from his eggs.

There was an awkward moment of silence, filled with the sound of breathing and the shifting of chairs, then Robert tried again. "Bet you're excited."

Excited? At the thought of escaping from this house and these people? He wanted to snort. That was something of an understatement. But his only response was another neutral "Yeah" once he'd swallowed his mouthful.

Robert shifted again and cleared his throat. Jeremey didn't even have to look to picture the lost, uncertain glance he shot his wife. Neither of them knew what to do with him. They hadn't known what to do with him since he'd been dumped on them six years ago, but had been unable to refuse to care for him, being his only living relatives.

Jeremey wished he could have stayed with Charlie. It had been Charlie who had saved his life that day, but more importantly it had been Charlie who had taken him in while they'd sent word out to locate his relatives. Charlie, who had more reason than anyone to dislike him given all the trouble Jeremey had caused, who had been the only one willing to tend to him until his proper family claimed him.

Without really thinking about it, Jeremey reached up and pulled Charlie's hat down lower over his eyes, obscuring everything but his plate and the table beneath it. He hated this house, this settlement. Fair Valley was the largest settlement on Noman. Supposedly the safest as well. Jeremey hadn't felt safe since Charlie and Zorevan had ridden off, taking with them the last remnants he had of Deadwood Gulch.

That was going to change. He'd worked himself to the bone to make certain he got the opportunity, and now the day was finally here. Nothing and no one was going to stop him.

No longer hungry, Jeremey stood and took what was left of his meal to the disposal, dumping it and rinsing off his plate before striding toward the door. He snagged his jacket from a hook and shrugged it on, settling the material into place. No one said goodbye or wished him luck as he pushed open the front door and stepped out first onto the porch, then down into the dusty street.

His feet knew his destination; he didn't have to think about it, he just started walking. No one paid him any mind as he passed, nor did he expect them to. People in Fair Valley had no reason to notice Jeremey Jasper, orphaned ward of Sue and Robert Driscoll. They'd never known the energetic child who'd been called Hellion and Troublemaker and everything in-between. That part of him had been left behind in Deadwood Gulch, along with everything else that mattered.

Though today, all that would change.

He increased his pace as he rounded the last corner and the barracks and stables came into view. They didn't really look like much. Plain and utilitarian, the only obvious difference between them and the rest of the buildings in Fair Valley was the size of them. Not the barracks, those weren't anything special, but the stables were mammoth. They had to be, to fit all of the dragons that guarded Fair Valley from harm.

Plenty of children were dragon-obsessed growing up, though few of them ever made it to the status of rider. Jeremey hadn't been one of them. Indeed, he'd gone out of his way to piss off the riders of his hometown, finding it all immensely funny.

It had ceased to be funny the day that Charlie Colcord and his dragon Zorevan had saved his life.

It had become something else entirely when, plagued by nightmares that woke him screaming, he'd made his way out to Charlie's private stable and curled up with Zorevan. Zorevan, who was the most universally feared dragon in all of Deadwood Gulch. Possibly all of Noman. Before, Jeremey had feared him too. Until he'd met a creature far more terrifying than the irritable dragon.

For the two months that Jeremey had been in Charlie's care he'd spent almost every night in Zorevan's stall, curled up against the dragon's neck, safe in the knowledge that nothing could get him while Zorevan was near. After the first night, once he'd figured out where Jeremey had gone, Charlie had joined them. It wasn't something they ever spoke about, and Jeremey had never felt the slightest desire to tell anyone. It wasn't theirs to know.

Not that they'd have believed him anyway. Even in Fair Valley the riders had heard of Sheriff Colcord's nasty-tempered dragon. The stories they told were ridiculous, for the most part, but there were a few that Jeremey knew to be true, and it was the truth in those stories that was responsible for Zorevan's fearsome reputation.

No, they'd never have believed him, so it was just as well he preferred to keep his secrets to himself. He knew, and Charlie knew, and that was good enough for Jeremey.

The guard on the watch tower paid him no heed as he approached, though his dragon did, peering curiously at Jeremey for a moment before returning its gaze to the skies. The angle of the suns was wrong for Jeremey to pick out which dragon it was, though from what he could see it was one of the lighter colored ones. It was almost amusing, how the dragons noticed him more than his own species did.

The thought remained on his mind as he stepped into the stables and almost immediately found himself scrutinized by three sets of dragon eyes. One of them wasn't important, but the other two were. Midnight and Tumbleweed, ridden by Zachary T. "Zack" Miller and Robert Benjamin "Ben" Masterson respectively. Two of the three men who were to be his escort today. That only left Ike (Isaac T. Pryor) and his Fireball, and Jeremey could hear voices around the corner.

Sure enough, when he rounded it, there was not only Ike, leaning casually against Fireball's flank, but Zack and Ben as well. As usual it was the dragon that noticed him first, though it didn't take Ike long to realize something had caught his dragon's attention and he looked over to spot Jeremey.

"There y'are," Ike drawled. "Still think you're rider material, kid?"

They didn't believe he could do it. The expressions on their faces made that more than plain. But nothing and no one was going to make him give up. Not now that he was so close. He ignored the taunt and crossed his arms, settling on a simple "Yes."

Zack snickered. "Plenty of kids have tried, y'know. Takes more than a few skills with a blaster to tame a dragon."

Jeremey considered his words for a moment, then gave in to the impulse and replied neutrally, "I'd say it's pretty obvious that blaster skills don't matter one lick, all things considered."

It took a minute before Zack got it, and it was probably Ike and Ben's snickers that did it, but when he did he scowled and stood up straighter. "Smartass brat. Think you're so tough. Won't find it so funny when I kick your ass."

"Easy," Ben interjected, catching Zack's arm before the other man could do anything. "Let's just see what happens when we get there."

For a moment it seemed as though Zack would argue, then he turned and stormed off toward his dragon. Ben and Ike watched him go, then Ben dropped his gaze back down to Jeremey.

"Might wanna watch your mouth," Ben advised. "Zack's temper ain't real friendly sometimes."

Rather than give voice to the automatic retort, Jeremey simply shrugged. It wasn't his fault the man was an ass, but it would somehow wind up his fault if Zack decided to pick a fight. Somehow, it was always his fault. Probably because he almost always won. You'd think they'd have learned not to pick fights with him by now, but apparently people weren't that smart.

He waited patiently while the three riders saddled their dragons, pretending he couldn't hear when they argued over who was going to get stuck riding with him. It didn't matter, because this would be the last time anyone would have to ferry him anywhere. After today, he'd have a dragon of his own.

Finally Midnight and Fireball ambled out of the stable, and Ben offered a hand from atop Tumbleweed's back. Jeremey took it, allowing the older man to haul him up into the saddle, then Tumbleweed started moving and Jeremey had to hang on to Ben lest the uneven gait knock him right off. He could feel the rider chuckle in amusement and had to remind himself yet again that he wouldn't have to put up with it for much longer.

Tumbleweed made his way out into the sun where Midnight and Fireball were waiting. The other two dragons headed out at a sound from their riders, Fireball leading with Midnight following and Tumbleweed bringing up the rear. People greeted them as they passed, exchanging pleasantries, but their pace remained uninterrupted. Jeremey had to give them credit for that, at least. Whatever else they might be, the men weren't lazy.

Just inside the town gate they stopped, for though the gate was open there was a dragon blocking the way out.

"Sheriff," Ike acknowledged, tipping his hat.

Jack Sullivan, sheriff of Fair Valley, nodded back. "Ike." His gaze slid over Zack to land on Ben and Jeremey. Nothing in his pale green eyes gave away his thoughts as he regarded them, and not for the first time Jeremey found himself wishing this man was more like Charlie. With Charlie, you always knew where you stood. The man was honest almost to a fault. But Jack Sullivan was the kind of man who could share a beer with his most hated enemy without anyone ever being aware of the animosity between them.

Finally Jack nodded again. "They're waiting for you," was all he said before his dragon moved forward, into the town and leaving the gate clear for them to leave.

He was tempted to believe that Jack was one of those who didn't want him to succeed, but the truth was he really had no idea what Jack's thoughts were. Figuring out what Sheriff Sullivan was really thinking was about as likely as convincing Deadwood Gulch that he'd slept in Zorevan's stall without getting maimed. Or worse.

With a slight lurch they began moving again, single-file out the gate before shifting into a slight V formation, Tumbleweed taking the right flank. They didn't really seem to be in any hurry, given that they weren't even trying to find a bluff high enough to glide from, and the journey across the plains seemed to take forever.

At least there were no interruptions from the local wildlife. That would have put a serious damper on their plans. But this time of year the rachya were in hibernation, lycodo didn't like hunting by day, and very few of the other dangers that abounded were stupid enough to take on three dragons.

So it was without incident that the small party slipped through a narrow passage into a low, wide valley somewhere vaguely north-east of the settlement. It was remarkably lush, perhaps due to its sheltered status, and in the midst of contemplating the greenery he suddenly realized that there were dragons. Everywhere.

Most settlements had ten to fifteen dragons calling it home. Fair Valley, due to its size, usually ranged between twenty-five and thirty. The valley they were in now, however, most likely had no fewer than a hundred. Some of them perched on rocks or ledges, others lounged in the dust or sprawled out on flat stones, while still more could be seen high on the cliffs, keeping watch. As their little group rode in several of the dragons called a greeting, a number of them coming close to investigate.

It was a little overwhelming. Jeremey had never seen so many dragons in all his life, and these dragons were wild. For the first time doubt began to creep in, forcing him to wonder if he could really do this after all. He was no one special, just an orphan nobody wanted. What made him worthy of riding one of Noman's great dragons?

He wasn't strong, or smart, or charismatic, and dragons didn't care one whit about whether or not he could shoot a panicked rock-hopper at five hundred paces. All he had was determination, and no way of knowing if that would be enough.

Ben nudged him, making him realize he was staring, and Jeremey scrambled down off of Tumbleweed's back. He stumbled as he hit the ground, arms flailing wildly for a moment until he caught his balance, and he could hear more than one snicker behind him. He wiped the scowl off his face before he turned around, looking up at his escorts expectantly.

Ike smirked and threw something to him, which Jeremey caught reflexively. A shock-lasso. "Okay kid," Ike said. "Catch one of 'em, if you can."

Jeremey started. "You want me to use a shock-lasso on a dragon?" he asked in disbelief. If that was how riders caught their dragons, no wonder Zorevan was so touchy!

Ike and Zack burst into laughter. Ben merely shook his head in exasperation and leaned down a bit. "You don't turn the shock on," he explained. "All you hafta do is rope one of them, but that's a lot harder than it sounds."

Rope one of them? Well, his parents had been fleep herders, so Jeremey wasn't exactly a slouch with a lasso, but still. "Rope a dragon," he repeated.

"Yup," Ben agreed, sitting back up straight in his saddle. "Don't bother with the ones on the cliffs, they're not interested. The ones you want will be the group over there." He gestured to where six or seven dragons were milling about an open area relatively clear of scrub, watching without quite seeming to.

Right. Go over there into the middle of a knot of the most dangerous creatures on the planet, unarmed, and try to put a rope around one of their necks. If it had been Ike or Zack, Jeremey would have passed it off as teasing. But Ben, while not exactly friendly, could usually be counted on for accurate information. He could see nothing to indicate that the man's habits had changed now.

Which meant he was about to go do something very stupid, deliberately. Only the fact that he'd done far stupider things in the past kept his nerves steady as he squared his shoulders and stalked out toward the waiting dragons, lasso in hand. He'd come out of all those other incidents in one piece, so maybe his luck would hold this time too.

The smirks he saw on the waiting dragon faces had to be his imagination. Or perhaps not, as almost as soon as he reached them something that felt suspiciously like a dragon tail knocked his feet out from under him, landing him hard on his ass in the dirt. He could hear helpless laughter from his so-called audience as he shot to his feet, face flaming, teeth gritted. He wasn't giving up that easily.

Loosing the lasso from its coil, he tied a quick slip-knot and tipped his hat back a little so he could get a good feel for where everything was. The dragons were moving, but that was only to be expected, and he remained perfectly still while he waited. The dragons didn't quite seem to know what to make of that, peering at him curiously, and one even went so far as to lean in close and snort a puff of hot air in his face.

Jeremey took the opportunity, flicking the lasso out over the creature's head, yanking sharply to tighten it. He only caught the dragon's horns, though that wasn't all that bad considering he hadn't tried to rope anything in years, and maybe it would be enough.

That thought was lost as the dragon tossed it's head, jerking the lasso right out of Jeremey's hands. One foot stomped on the end as the dragon twisted its neck, and the lasso slid right off, falling uselessly into the dust. As Jeremey stared, the dragon snaked away, making odd sounds that, in a human, Jeremey would have been certain were laughter.

For a moment he flexed his bare hands, then he set his jaw and crossed the space to where his lasso lay with wide strides, reaching down to pick it up and abruptly finding himself face-first in the dirt as something shoved him. He spit out dust as he scrambled to his feet, lasso in hand, and whirled to glare at the dragon that had knocked him down. The creature bared its teeth, and Jeremey swore it was grinning at him.

Oh no. If he didn't take that kind of shit from the other settlers, he sure as hell wasn't taking it from some giant lizard. Narrowing his eyes, he fed the length of the lasso slowly through his hands until it was right where he wanted it, then let it fly. Right on target, toward the smartass dragon's head.

Then there was a flash of sandy red, and he could only stare as he realized that one of the other dragons had snapped the lasso out of midair with its jaws. The beast gave a faint huff, then dumped the lasso back onto the ground before practically prancing around Jeremey in a wide circle.

Fucking dragon. Ike and Zack were laughing even harder now, and a brief look confirmed that Ben's shoulders were shaking as well. Wasn't that just perfect? The damned dragons were humiliating him in front of three men who would be sure to let the rest of the settlement know all about it. He could feel a rising tightness in his chest, an anger that he kept buried lest he do something really stupid.

He had to concentrate. Try again. There was a greenish-grey dragon that looked promising, but another tail knocked his feet out from under him. Then there was a brown one, but an ill-timed wingbeat sent him sprawling. The same happened with the red and the gold. Every time he thought he had a chance, he'd get knocked in the dirt or the lasso yanked right out of his hands, until he was filthy from head to toe and his hands had been rubbed raw and were starting to bleed.

Resolutely, Jeremey got back up to his feet, picking up the lasso gingerly and trying to ignore the throbbing ache in his hands.

"C'mon kid, just give up!" a voice called out behind him. "They're not having any of it."

No, he wasn't giving up. No matter how long it took, how many times he fell, how much he hurt, he was never giving up. One of these dragons would be his, no matter what it took.

Then, suddenly, none of the animals were in range, when up until that point they'd constantly been twining about him, taunting him with their nearness. He almost felt alone, finding his former targets now a respectable distance away, their attention no longer on Jeremey. Instead, their collective attention was fixed on something else. Something off behind Jeremey's right shoulder.

He turned.

It was a dragon. Not any of the dragons he'd been attempting, unsuccessfully, to snare. This must have been one of those watching, though he didn't remember seeing any dragons on the bluffs that were this dazzling blue in color. Sapphire, he thought distantly, meeting the dragon's eyes as it stared back at him. Like the necklace that Miss Starr had always prized so highly back in Deadwood Gulch, only even more beautiful.

The jewel bright dragon leaned closer, nosing curiously at him, its breath hot and almost ticklish as it inspected him, painful as it caught a mass of unruly not-quite-curls in its mouth and tugged. Then it released him and its head swung away, only to return a moment later with Jeremey's hat, knocked off during the earlier tussle, dangling from its mouth.

Jeremey held out his hand for the hat, but rather than give it to him the dragon arched it's neck up over Jeremey and dropped the hat, not quite square, onto his head. When Jeremey had the hat resettled and straightened, the dragon was once more staring straight at him.

Briefly his gaze flicked to the lasso still in his hand, then to the vivid blue dragon standing before him. He dismissed the thought before it had formed, reaching out instead with his free hand. "Hey," he said quietly. "You want to be mine?"

The dragon blew out a puff of breath straight into Jeremey's face, then tilted its head into Jeremey's hand. Jeremey caressed the sleek scales as he'd seen Charlie do to Zorevan years before, rewarded when the dragon made a sound he was certain indicated it was pleased. He stroked the beautiful head for a long moment, then turned to stare back at the three riders who'd brought him.

None of them were laughing now. Two of them had their jaws hanging open in disbelief, and the last was shaking his head slowly. As Jeremey walked back toward them, the sapphire dragon following along docilely, he could see them visibly trying to shake off their shock and had to stifle a smirk. He'd told them he could do it. Maybe not quite in the usual way, but this way was even better. A single glance back at the deep blue dragon confirmed that there was no way he'd ever be so crass as to tie a rope around his neck.

It was Ben who managed to collect himself first, giving Jeremey a wan smile. "So," he said, still sounding somewhat forced, "What're you gonna call him?"

Jeremey didn't have to look. He already knew. He knew what the dragon was, what he meant, and he'd known his name long before they'd ever met.

"Promise," he said softly, reaching out blindly to run his fingers down that sleek muzzle. A promise to himself, to his parents, to Charlie, and to all of Noman. A promise he'd made years ago, and now, finally, could begin to fulfill.

Ben exchanged a glance with Ike, though wisely none of them questioned him. Instead they sat back firmly in their seats before Ike suddenly began swearing colorfully.

"What?" Ben asked, frowning at him.

Ike grimaced. "Did you bring an extra saddle?" he asked.

Ben blinked, his eyes widening slightly as he shot a glance at Jeremey before they darted back to Ike. "Fuck."

"Didn't think the kid would actually succeed," Zack grumbled, glaring at Jeremey like it was his fault they were unprepared.

Ben grimaced but said nothing. Ike swore a little more, then shook his head. "Guess you're riding back with one of us, kid," he said, though he didn't really sound apologetic so much as annoyed. It made Jeremey annoyed in turn, and he had to struggle to keep his expression bland.

"I think I'll walk," he announced, resting a hand on Promise's head just above his horns.

"Walk," Zack repeated, then rolled his eyes. "Whatever. C'mon Midnight." But the dragon ignored him, watching Jeremey and Promise intently, not moving even when Zack began swearing at him. Promise stared back for a long moment, then nudged Jeremey's back.

Jeremey blinked at him, then shook his head as he fought a smile. "Right, going," he said aloud, starting off back the way they'd come with Promise trailing along behind him. Just as he reached the narrow crevasse that separated the valley from the plains he glanced back over his shoulder, amused to see that, while Zack had finally gotten Midnight to move, they were now bringing up the rear.

Which was, in Jeremey's opinion, right where Zack belonged.

After five straight weeks of sentry duty, cleaning the stables, and running random, pointless errands, Jeremey was fairly well convinced that Jack Sullivan didn't like him. Neither did the rest of the riders, for that matter, but that was their problem. Wasn't his fault their dragons all acted weird around Promise. Though if he thought about it, Sheriff Sullivan's Putere seemed to have the same problem, so that could be part of why the man disliked him.

Possible, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. He had no control over what the other dragons did, and he wasn't about to give up Promise for any reason. Not now that he finally had him.

He looked up, a smile already tugging at his mouth before his gaze got to the dragon's sleek form, curled up in a corner of the stables while he watched Jeremey work. When he noticed Jeremey was looking and not working he tilted his head, first to one side, then the other, and made a sound that was remarkably like a sneeze.

Jeremey fought the urge to laugh. "Sorry, Promise," he said instead. "Chores aren't done yet."

Promise rumbled and snorted, stretching his wings out briefly before settling them back into place. He rose, almost silently, and nosed around in the bedding he'd been lying in for a moment. Jeremey could see when he'd found what he'd been looking for, and a moment later something was dropped at his feet with a dull thud. Jeremey looked down, his eyes widening.

"Promise!" he exclaimed, snatching the blaster up off the floor. "Where did you get this?"

Every rider on patrol took a blaster with him, but as Jeremey hadn't yet been permitted to leave the settlement he hadn't been issued one. It was more than a little frustrating, as shooting was one thing he was actually good at. One thing he'd be useful at, if he and Promise were ever allowed to go out on patrol.

The dragon chuffed contentedly, tail flicking back and forth in what Jeremey swore was devious amusement. He circled around Jeremey, far too quiet for a creature so large, and nudged him in the small of the back.

"I can't just leave," Jeremey explained patiently, though with a blaster in his hands he was itching to do just that. "I haven't swept up all the old bedding or put down the new stuff."

Promise snorted, his breath hot and vaguely fishy as it washed over Jeremey, then twisted about and used his tail to sweep all the old bedding out with one powerful motion. That accomplished, he turned back around to eye Jeremey pointedly.

Jeremey closed his mouth with a snap and put on his best scowl. "Why didn't you do that before instead of just laying there and watching me, you lazy lizard?" he demanded.

This time the snort was directly in his face, but before he could even begin to form a retort the dragon's head moved up, powerful jaws clamping onto the brim of his hat and jerking it up off his head.

"Hey!" Jeremey protested, making a grab for the stolen object and missing when Promise yanked it out of reach. "Give that back!"

Completely ignoring the order, Promise ambled toward the stable door, stopping half in and half out and turning to regard Jeremey rather pointedly. With an exasperated sigh Jeremey shoved as much new bedding out as he could, kicked it halfheartedly into place, and bolted out after the dragon.

As soon as he set foot outside, Promise dropped his hat back onto his head.

"There had better not be any teeth marks in this," Jeremey grumbled.

Promise rumbled in amusement and sauntered across the dusty yard to the corner the riders liked to use for target practice. He nosed at the random objects littering the ground, picking them up one at a time in his mouth and setting them atop the askew and slightly-scorched posts, rearing up to examine his handiwork before slinking back to rejoin Jeremey. Not for the first time the thought crossed Jeremey's mind that Promise seemed to be a lot smarter than most animals. Hells, the dragon was smarter than most people Jeremey knew.

Then again, that wasn't really saying much.

"Rules?" Jeremey asked, absently checking the blaster to make sure it was in proper working order. Promise contemplated the neat row of targets for a moment, then quick as lightning snagged the back of Jeremey's shirt, hauling him up off the ground with a half-strangled yelp, then braced himself and leapt up into the air. Powerful wings beat the air hard, then there was a sudden jolt as they landed and Jeremey was set back down on his feet. On the stable roof.

Slowly Jeremey looked up at the rather smug-looking dragon, rolling his eyes when the creature snorted. "You have issues," he told Promise, getting a face full of teeth in response. He rather suspected the dragon was attempting to grin.

Ignoring the cheeky dragon, Jeremey looked down at the targets, considering. Even with the added distance and odd angle, it really wasn't much of a challenge if they weren't moving. Then a thought occurred to him and he swiftly reset the blaster to use concentrated shots rather than wide-spread, his own grin beginning to match that of his dragon. If he wanted moving targets, he was just going to have to convince them to move himself.

In one easy move he sighted the end target, a battered metal cube that had seen better days, and fired. The cube leapt into the air, propelled up and back by the force of the blast, and before it could begin its descent back down toward the earth Jeremey fired again. And again. The sixth shot was slightly off, nicking the cube too far to the right and sending it careening away too fast for Jeremey to hit. He lowered his blaster and peered down, pleased anyway. Six shots in a row wasn't too shabby. And he had four more targets to practice on.

He was distantly aware of Promise watching and made certain every shot counted in response to that intense interest. He was down to the last target when he noticed movement down below. Lowering the blaster, he stepped closer to the edge and looked down, hiding a wince at the slight frown creasing Sheriff Sullivan's face.

"Jasper."

"Sheriff," Jeremey returned, keeping his eyes on the man below even as Promise's neck snaked past him, head peering over his shoulder.

Jack Sullivan stared up at them for a moment, lips pursed in that manner of persons holding back what they wanted to say, then he shifted his stance and crossed his arms. "Get down from there."

Jeremey glanced at Promise, who tossed his head in refusal even as he moved closer to get a good grip on Jeremey's shirt. A brief leap and a few wingbeats later they landed, leaving Jeremey faced with the sheriff and the rather peculiar way he eyed Promise for a moment before his gaze settled on Jeremey.

"You are trouble waiting to happen," Jack said in annoyance, "But you're a damn fine shot with a blaster." His eyes flicked briefly to Promise, and his mouth tightened, then he met Jeremey's eyes once again. "You've got first patrol tomorrow. You'll be riding with Ike. Don't screw it up, and don't do anything stupid." His gaze darted to Promise again before he snorted and turned sharply, stalking back toward the living area.

Jeremey watched him go with an odd feeling, one that was swiftly buried beneath rising excitement. He turned toward Promise, finding the dragon already looking at him. "Hear that, Promise?" he asked. "We're finally going to be able to start doing some good. Real work. Protecting people, like riders are supposed to do."

Promise's head bobbed up and down - if he'd been human Jeremey would have said he was nodding - and he leaned in close so that Jeremey could pet him. Laughing, Jeremey complied, though he swore good-naturedly about attention-seeking dragons and what they were good for.

It was going to be a hell of a scorching summer, given how the end of spring was behaving. Too many hot, dry days and not enough rain; they were going to have to irrigate the crops or they'd all wither. He wondered if the riders pitched in to help. He couldn't remember, but it sure sounded like the kind of thing Charlie would have his riders do.

Jack Sullivan, however, was not Charlie, so there was really no way of knowing how he'd react. From the first time Jeremey had met him he'd seemed to have a stick lodged firmly up his ass, and he hadn't unbent any since. Charlie was so concerned for the settlement's well-being he may as well be mayor (and Mayor Burke sure seemed set on making him Mr. Mayor, at least, though when Jeremey had left Deadwood Gulch she still hadn't even managed to get him to call her by her given name) but Jack Sullivan seemed to prefer to keep the peace from a distance.

Still, if the crops died, no one ate.

Tipping his hat down further to reduce the glare of the hot suns overhead, Jeremey nudged Promise forward into the low hills that comprised the northern boundary of Fair Valley territory. They'd never been explored all that thoroughly, mostly for lack of time, but all too often retreating lycodo packs tended to head this way, as had that nasty caraca last month that had taken a bite out of Ben's leg.

Scouting the hills would likely be a fair sight safer with two riders - and therefore two dragons - but Zack had ditched him the moment they'd gotten out of sight of town. Unsurprising, really, given how aggravated all the other riders got when their dragons always deferred to Promise. He was sort of surprised it hadn't happened sooner. Still, he wondered what Promise had done to make the other dragons so terrified of crossing him. He wasn't particularly unfriendly; compared to Zorevan he was downright sociable, and if there was any dragon to be feared it should be that one.

"So what'd you do to make them all scared of you?" Jeremey mused aloud, sliding one hand down Promise's sleek neck scales. The dragon stopped walking and snaked his neck around to snort in Jeremey's face.

"What?" Jeremey asked, arching a brow. "It's a valid question."

Promise snorted again and turned his head back around in the proper direction, resuming his smooth amble. Jeremey made a face at the back of his head, but it almost immediately melted into a grin. There was something about being with Promise that lightened his heart and took the weight off his shoulders. It made him feel more like his old self, before he'd suddenly seen first-hand how harsh and unforgiving the world could be.

Although he'd never had one before, he suspected it was much like having a friend. Not the same, of course, as Promise was just an animal and couldn't really understand, but he sure seemed to understand enough. Enough that it made a difference.

Even if he did seem to seek out mischief almost as much as Jeremey had when he was younger. Ike was still blaming Jeremey for the incident with the water trough.

The first of the hills were fairly low, mere bumps compared with those deeper in, but they moved cautiously all the same. This time of year there was no danger from rachya, as they had begun their summer hibernation, but there were still plenty of other deadly creatures on Noman.

One hand on his blaster, the other hovering over his lasso, Jeremey kept a wary lookout as they proceeded deeper into the hills. On a largely unexplored planet such as Noman you never really knew what you might find when you ventured beyond known territory, but the risks were generally worth it. The original settlers had lost almost everything those first few years, and many things had yet to be replaced or compensated for. There were a few daring individuals who went out to expand their knowledge of their home, but not nearly as many as there would be on other, less deadly worlds.

Noman, Jeremey knew, had been a terrible mistake. The team that had originally surveyed the planet hadn't stayed long enough to discover that the native fauna tended to be both fearless and deadly, nor did they connect the illness that swept through them after they'd returned home with their brief stay on Noman. As a result, the colonists hadn't a clue what they were walking into until the dying began.

Two-thirds of the settlers had been wiped out, along with most of their animals and much of their supplies. Messages sent to the galactic federation went unanswered, the cries for help falling upon deaf ears. It had been one man, Daniel Sullivan, great-grandfather of Jack Sullivan, who had found and tamed Noman's great dragons, allowing the desolate colonists to slowly learn to stand on their own and begin to rebuild their shattered world.

It was a long, slow, ongoing process, and the dangers remained great. Often those who went out to scout and explore never returned at all, making each successive generation a little less willing to take the risk. These days it was mostly the riders, with the extra protection provided by their dragons, who made the effort. New animals, new plants, new ores, new sources of water. All the things that were important to a growing colony, that was what they looked for.

Spying a gully that looked somewhat hopeful, Jeremey nudged Promise toward it. The first fifty meters or so contained nothing of interest, but a little farther in he saw something that made him sit up in excitement. Giving Promise the command to stop, he slid down out of the saddle and ranged ahead a short distance, kneeling in the cool earth next to the small plant - one he'd never seen before.

"Look, Promise!" he said in elation even as he kicked himself for not bringing any digging supplies. "No one's seen this one yet! I wonder what it-"

He broke off at the sound of a snarl, not a sound made by any dragon, and his head snapped up as Promise hissed in warning in response. All his blood felt as though it had turned to ice as he stared at the rachya, his mind screaming that it was impossible. Rachya were dormant during the summer! But even as fear gripped him he saw that the beast was too thin, almost haggard. It hadn't eaten enough to go into hibernation - yet. To the starving rachya, Jeremey and Promise had to look like a feast.

Fear turned his blood to ice as the rachya stalked closer, teeth bared and claws out. His instincts screamed at him to do something, anything, but to no avail. He couldn't move, couldn't think, caught in the memory of a child's overwhelming fear. This was it. This was the time it finally got him.

Then there came a furious roar and his view of the rachya was abruptly blocked by a multitude of sapphire scales. It took him a moment to process what that meant, during which there were two angry snarls - one threatening, one defensive - then everything came flooding back.

"Promise!" he shrieked, yanking out his blaster and ducking around the dragon's legs. The thought of becoming dinner had petrified him; the thought of Promise becoming dinner enraged him.

His first shot went slightly wide as he overcompensated for trying not to hit Promise as the dragon snapped at the rachya. The second one caught it in the shoulder, causing it to bellow in pain and anger. Jeremey caught a glimpse of claws and ducked, feeling something catch in his vest and tear a bit before snagging. He thrashed, trying to free himself, unable to get to the fastenings. Then Promise's tail connected with the rachya's side, sending both of them flying.

Jeremey hit the ground hard, getting the breath knocked from his lungs, and scrambled to get back to his feet even as his head spun from the rough landing. He saw the rachya - the collision with the ground must have knocked him loose as he was no longer caught on its claws - and Promise, who lifted his head to the sky and made the most hair-raising cry Jeremey had ever heard.

He was so distracted by Promise that he almost didn't notice the rachya moving until it was too late. The outstretched claws just barely missed him, far too close for comfort, and Jeremey suddenly realized his hand was empty. Where was his blaster?

Before the thought was complete he had his lasso in hand, as even a lesser weapon was better than none at all. He thumbed it on and lashed it across the rachya's face, not waiting for its howl of pain before diving back toward where he'd landed, praying his blaster was there.

It wasn't, but a glint of metal caught his eye a short distance away. He scrambled for it, coming up with dirt and rocks and, finally, his blaster. He rolled, coming up on one knee, ready to fire.

And stopped.

Where once the narrow valley had only held himself, Promise, and the rachya, it now seemed to be covered in dragons. Five of them had the rachya trapped between them, two drawing its attention while the others attacked, and even as he watched a small, copper-colored dragon took a bloody bite out of the beast's hip.

Jeremey looked away, leaving the dragons to their kill, his gaze automatically seeking out Promise amidst the sea of glittering dragon scales. He wasn't far, and as Jeremey started toward him the other dragons moved out of the way, allowing him unhindered access. Promise lowered his head to greet him as he neared and Jeremey carefully stroked the sleek scales there.

Safe. They were safe, alive, and, as far as he could tell, unharmed. He reluctantly released Promise's head to check the dragon over for injuries, relieved when his search turned up nothing. He'd never have forgiven himself if Promise had gotten hurt because he'd been too scared to react.

Carefully he returned his blaster and lasso to their holsters, stroking Promise's head once more before seeking out his saddle. Once there he turned Promise toward home, very carefully not looking back at the other dragons, the crunching sounds more than enough to make him shudder. Or perhaps his shudders were the result of the brush with death catching up to him again. He didn't want to think about what might have transpired if those wild dragons hadn't shown up when they did.

Why they'd rescued him was another thought entirely. He'd never even heard of wild dragons behaving in such a manner before, not even in the tallest tales. What had made them come, and in such numbers? As far as anyone knew, dragons in the wild flew solo, or in very small groups. This overwhelming presence was baffling.

Or... was it? Sneaking a brief look back, and immediately regretting it, Jeremey recalled the strange sound Promise had made after knocking the rachya away from Jeremey. Was it actually possible that Promise had called the dragons? What would that mean if he had?

He wondered suddenly just how much they really knew about the dragons of Noman. Everyone knew the story of how Daniel Sullivan had saved the colony by taming the first dragon and organizing the riders to protect the settlements, but nowhere in the story did it say how Daniel had accomplished the feat, or really much at all, now that Jeremey thought about it. He'd thought he would learn the secret to taming dragons when he became a rider, but he hadn't really learned anything. He hadn't even figured out if Ike and the others had been tricking him that day, or if lassoing a dragon was really the way it was normally done. And if it really was done that way, what made the dragons come tamely along? It certainly wasn't the powered-down shock lasso.

Not that the lasso had been an issue at all with himself and Promise. That had all been Promise's doing. Which brought him right back around to the original question. If Promise had called the other dragons, if he'd consciously chosen Jeremey that day, what did that say about dragons? He knew dragons were smart, but maybe they were a lot smarter than he, or anyone, really knew.

The sounds of civilization drew him out of his ruminations and he realized with a start that they were all the way back at the Fair Valley settlement. They passed through the gate without incident, but they hadn't gotten very far before someone let out a blistering oath.

"Lycodo's teeth, Jasper, what happened to your back?"

Jeremey blinked and twisted around to meet Ike's wide-eyed stare. His back? What... oh. "Ran into a hungry rachya," he explained. "It caught my vest before Promise knocked me loose."

All of a sudden it was very quiet, and the people nearby were staring in disbelief.

"You took on a rachya alone?" Ike demanded. "Where's Zack?"

"Zack..." ditched me, he wanted to say, but he was all too aware of the eyes on them. "We split up," he finished, wincing at how stupid that sounded. "It was okay. I had Promise and... and some wild dragons showed up to help."

If he'd thought it quiet before, it was positively silent now. Ike's eyes widened, then narrowed. "Wild dragons," he said flatly.

"I think Promise called them," Jeremey elaborated, brow furrowed. "He made this strange sound and then they-"

"You ran into a rachya this late in spring and wild dragons showed up to save your ass." Ike snorted, eyes narrowed. "You've got a big mouth, kid. Anyone could come up with a better story than that. What'd you really do, fall down a ravine?"

"Fall down a..." Jeremey sputtered. "It's the truth!" We were up in the north hills and I saw a new plant, and when I got down to look at it, that's when the rachya appeared. I'm not lying!"

"Oh yeah?" Ike challenged. "So where's this new plant, then?"

"It's-" Jeremey shut his mouth as realization set in. "Oh. I left it back in the hills..."

Ike snorted. "Yeah, right. Tell me another one, Jasper."

"It's true!" Jeremey snapped, feeling Promise rumble in - he hoped - agreement. "That's what happened!"

"Think you're better than us, Jasper? Gotta make up wild stories to convince everyone else? Well I'm not buying it. I told Jack we never shoulda let-"

"That's enough."

Everyone froze, then turned en masse to where Jack Sullivan stood, his eyes narrowly visible beneath the brim of his hat. He glanced slowly over the crowd, who suddenly remembered they had other things to do. Jack's gaze shifted to Ike, lingering there for a moment until the man began to squirm, then he walked calmly over to Promise's flank and stopped.

"Well?"

Jeremey scrambled down out of his saddle, trying to but not quite able to meet the sheriff's eyes. Jack regarded him for a long moment, then stepped around him to examine Jeremey's back.

Jeremey held his breath.

There was a slight crunch of boots on dirt, then Jack's voice came from somewhere lower than usual and Jeremey realized with a start that he was probably kneeling. "Rachya... awful late in the season. Must be a young one, not experienced enough to bulk up for the summer hibernation." The rustle of boots and earth, then Jack was coming around to face him again. "You're damn lucky you're not dead."

"Yes sir," Jeremey said, swallowing.

"I don't wanna hear about you riding solo again, you hear me?"

"But Zack-" Jeremey bit down on the protest as Jack's eyes narrowed dangerously. The man might have backed him up on the matter of the rachya, but he couldn't push his luck. "Yes sir," he forced out.

Jack Sullivan eyed him a moment longer, then jerked his head toward the stables. "Get on with you," he ordered. "And take care of your dragon," he added as Jeremey swung himself back up into the saddle. "I think you know you owe him your life."

Jeremey nodded and started Promise toward the stables, thinking that the sheriff was right. He did owe Promise his life, in more ways than one. Without Promise, he hadn't really had a life. Until Promise gave it back to him.