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Eastern Pennsylvania, 1836
Logan chewed on his cigar as he searched the area, not quite sure what he was looking for or what he might find. Hell, it wasn’t even his job – and the sheriff had made it clear that his was an unwanted presence in this town. Logan should probably be packing his bags in case the town decided to pin this mess on him.
From what he’d overheard though, they were putting it down as a freak accident. A bad rope snapping at exactly the wrong time.
Maybe that was all it was, too, but Logan wanted to check around just in case. It wasn’t like the sheriff was going to see anything that didn’t fit his narrative. And if the circuses stopped coming through this town, well, that was all the better as far as the uptight biddies that ran this town were concerned.
He considered the ladder up to the highwire, knowing he should climb it for thoroughness but not particularly looking forward to it. As he placed his hand on the lowest rung, he froze.
Someone was watching him.
He sniffed, trying to catch the scent of whoever it was. There – up in the rafters. Someone small, or trying to make themselves small. Someone trying to hide.
Odd.
Possibly even suspicious, though Logan wouldn’t be able to tell for sure until he got up there. Nothing for it then.
He climbed his way up, carefully, testing each rung as he went. If the ropes had been sabotaged, the ladder might have been as well. He could survive the fall, but the broken bones would be a bitch at this height.
When he got up to the platform he paused, and took a good look around. There was a good view of the guts of the tent, the wires and platforms and cleverly concealed bits that helped make the magic happen.
There was also a child.
His hiding place was good, Logan had to give him credit for that. But why was he up here in the first place?
“Hey kid,” he said, gruff and low and trying to be friendly. Or, as friendly as he ever got. “Whatcha doin’ up here, huh?”
The kid sniffled and drew back into himself, crossing his arms.
“I’m allowed to be here. Who’re you?” he asked, a challenge in his eyes but his lips still quivering.
“Name’s Logan. Live just outside of town.”
He tested the platform he was standing on. If this chat was going to take a while – and based on the mulish expression on the kid’s face, he suspected it might – he’d rather have it without worrying about plummeting to his own death. Once he was satisfied with the platform’s sturdiness, he moved carefully towards the center, and sat down facing the kid.
They stared at each other in silence for a long few minutes.
“So, if you’re allowed up here I’m guessing you’re part of the circus then?” Logan finally asked.
“...yeah.”
“Seem pretty young to be a performer,” Logan said, challenging the kid a little but, really, he was pretty small.
“I’m an acrobat. Dick Grayson,” the kid said, chin jutting out defiantly. “Me ‘n my parents were…”
He trailed off, looking lost, and Logan’s heart sank as he recognized the name. The two who had fallen to their deaths last night had been acrobats, a man and a woman. The Flying Graysons.
“I’m sorry,” he said bluntly, rougher than the kid deserved but sincere at least. “You got somewhere else to go? Some other relatives who can look after you?”
The kid shook his head and buried his face in his arms.
No, of course not. Couldn’t be that easy.
Logan sighed quietly.
Maybe the circus folks would keep the kid, find him a place to sleep and a job to do, but Logan wouldn’t bet on it. And hell, maybe it would be a kindness to take the kid away from the circus, where the show would go on and every night he’d be reminded of his parents’ death.
Folks in this town wouldn’t do right by him, though. Better to get him out of here, away from the circus and away from the town and, hell, maybe even the whole Eastern seaboard. A fresh start. Logan might not know much about taking responsibility for a kid, but he sure as hell knew all about fresh starts.
Logan let his decision settle into his bones, then carefully stood up and held out his hand.
“You can’t stay up here forever. C’mon down and at least get something to eat and try to sleep. We’ll figure out the rest in the morning.”
The kid – Dick, Logan reminded himself – wiped his tears off on his sleeve before nodding and taking Logan’s hand to pull himself up.
Iowa Territory, 1838
There was a kid on the side of the road.
Generally speaking, Logan considered that kind of thing Not His Business. But the kid looked pretty bad and, well, Logan already had one tag-along and he was trying to be a good role model when he could. He wasn’t sure he could look Dick in the eye if he passed by someone else who was young and scared and hurt-looking without doing anything about it.
“You alright kid?” Logan asked as he drew his horse to a stop and dismounted.
The kid gasped at the question and scrambled backwards to hide behind a tree. Logan graciously did not roll his eyes.
“Look,” he said, attempting to channel as much patience as he ever had. “I ain’t gonna hurt you or nothing. I was just passing by, wanted to see if you needed help.”
One big blue eye peeked out around the trunk at him and mumbled something.
“What was that?” Logan’s hearing was good, but it wasn’t good enough to hear something said through tree bark.
“I’m waiting for my brother,” the kid said softly.
Logan glanced up and down the road, which he knew for a fact was rarely traveled and effectively deserted. It was one of the reasons Logan liked it so much
“You know how much longer your brother’s gonna be?” he asked.
A shrug.
“Well, how long’s he been gone already?” Logan tried instead.
The kid bit his lip.
“Couple days,” he admitted.
Logan raised his eyebrows. That wasn’t good. Kid couldn’t’ve been older than ten. His brother was either a fool or hadn’t planned on coming back at all.
“You been out here on your own all that time?”
The kid shrugged. As scared or cautious as he’d been at Logan’s initial approach, there was an irritatingly familiar look of stubbornness growing on his face.
“I can take care of myself,” he claimed.
Yeah, okay.
“I’m sure you can,” Logan lied, once again resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Looks like all that practice at dealing with stubborn boys who thought they knew everything had been useful for something at least.
“Pretty dangerous out here, though,” Logan continued. “I wouldn’t want to spend much more time out here alone. I’m heading into town myself, if you want a ride? Could leave your brother a note to let him know.”
He waited as the boy mulled over the offer. Logan wasn’t going to force him to come along, to get somewhere safer, somewhere with food and water and shelter. This wasn’t his kid, and anyway maybe his brother really was coming back. Maybe he was coming ‘round over the hill right now, just a few hundred yards away.
But maybe he wasn’t.
And Logan knew if he left this boy here alone, he was going to regret it for the rest of his life.
Eventually, the kid nodded.
“I’m leaving Barney a message though,” he said, squinting suspiciously at Logan. “Don’t look.”
“I won’t.”
Logan stared off into the distance while the kid pulled out a pocket knife and scratched something into the bark of the tree he’d been hiding behind, only looking back when he pulled a small bag off the ground and stepped out into the road.
Now that he could see the boy fully, Logan liked what he saw even less: the woefully thin arms, the ill-fitting clothes, the fading edges of a black eye barely concealed by the fierce glare being leveled at Logan…
“What’s your name kid?” Logan asked in lieu of pointing out any of those details.
The glare, somehow, got fiercer.
“Clint,” the kid mumbled after a long moment during which Logan suspected he had tried and (possibly) failed to come up with a fake name.
“I’m Logan,” he said in response. “C’mon, kid. If we hustle we can make it into town before sunset.”
Clint hoisted his bag onto his shoulder and nodded.
Logan’s business in town took nearly another week, and when it started coming to a close he knew he had to figure out how to approach Clint with the idea of him coming with them when they moved on, further westward. It wouldn’t be too hard of a sell – the kid was still a bit wary of Logan but he got on with Dick like a house on fire.
There was just that thorny issue of the mysterious ‘Barney’ who had yet to make an appearance. Except there was a slight figure limping his way across the street and Logan… Logan whistled and the kid turned to look at him and yeah there was no mistaking those eyes or that nose or the stubborn scowl as the kid refused to come any closer to a stranger.
“You Barney?”
The kid’s scowl deepened.
“Who’s asking?”
“Someone who’s been taking care of your kid brother for the past week,” Logan shot back.
It was impossible to miss the flash of relief across Barney’s face, no matter how fleeting it was and how quickly it was replaced with a mix of worry and anger.
“Where is he?”
Logan took Dick out to pick up supplies while the brothers chatted in private, because one way or another they’d be heading out of town tomorrow. They got enough to cover for three, because Dick wouldn’t consider any other outcome and Logan didn’t have the heart to try to temper his expectations.
When they finally got back to the room, Clint’s attention was on the floor. Barney’s face was inscrutable.
“So,” Logan drawled, breaking the uncomfortable tension. “What’s the plan?”
“I got a job,” Barney said, more world weary than any teenager had any right to be. “But I couldn’t find nothing for Clint. I don’t know-”
“He can come with us,” Dick interjected, bouncing on his feet a little.
Clint finally looked up, first at Dick, then at Logan, then finally over at Barney.
“You sure?” he asked, voice quivering just a little.
“Don’t see why not. Can’t be any more of a pain in the ass than this one,” Logan said, jerking his thumb to indicate Dick and earning a quick punch to the arm and a trio of small, genuine smiles in return.
Somewhere near Fort Spokane, 1840
Logan did his damndest to keep himself to himself. Had done all his life. Which made it perplexing, really, why there were now three boys snoring up in the big bed in his cabin and a small posse of unfamiliar men standing just at the edge of his front porch fixing to ask something Logan knew he didn’t want to hear.
“Were you acquainted with the one they called Brave Bow?” the man in front asked. He had blond poofy hair and a thick, well-made cloak on and was not the kind of person who was trying to make a life out here on the frontier. Logan disliked him on principle.
“I’m acquainted with nearabouts everyone ‘round these parts,” Logan replied evasively. “Who exactly might you be?”
“Oliver Queen.” Rich and pompous had a name to match his demeanor, apparently. “I am looking for the boy who was recently the ward of Brave Bow and was told he was living here these days.”
Logan eyed the man, not liking where this was going any more than he’d liked it when Brave Bow had come around some weeks back to talk him into taking care of Roy.
“I’m dying,” Brave Bow had said bluntly.
“Sorry to hear that,” Logan had said, not unkindly. From what he knew, Brave Bow was a good man, and it was always a shame for a good man to die before his time. “Not sure what that’s got to do with me, though.”
“Roy needs someone to look after him when I’m gone. He’s already round here half the time anyway.”
“No,” Logan had said automatically. It was true, though, however much Logan had wanted to deny it. Roy and his bright red hair had shown up not long after they’d settled in this area, and the three boys had been traipsing around and getting up to no good ever since.
“He can’t stay with your people?”
Brave Bow had taken a minute to respond, as though he was really and truly thinking it through. Logan hadn’t necessarily believed that, hadn’t believed that he hadn’t already considered what was the most obvious solution.
“He could. But I do not believe that to be the best place for him.”
“What about his parents?” Logan had asked.
The other man had just looked at him.
“If his parents were still alive, why would he not be with them still?”
Logan had just shrugged, not willing to voice all the theories and ill-meaning gossip that the folks living in the fort liked to spread about the redheaded kid living amongst a bunch of savages.
“I don’t know his life. Figured I might as well ask,” before getting saddled with yet another kid, he had grumpily thought to himself, because as much as he hated the idea and didn’t think of himself as a father figure… he knew he was never going to leave a kid to go it alone.
“Fine. But only if the kid agrees.”
Roy had agreed in the end and when Brave Bow passed away, Logan’s unasked-for collection of stragglers had increased yet again.
And now here was someone come to take one of those stragglers off of his hands and Logan didn’t trust it one bit.
“What do you want with him?” he asked suspiciously.
“His talents are needed elsewhere. Boy’s the best shot in the territory, and I aim to make him even better,” Queen answered as if it was a perfectly reasonable thing to take a boy from his home simply because he was a crack shot archer.
Logan had plenty of experience reading between the lines of other mens’ lies, though. Guy like this thought the world revolved around him, and there was no way he was going to look after Roy out of the goodness of his heart. He wanted Roy’s skills for something particular, and Logan did not believe for one second that that something particular was anything a kid should be getting involved in.
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Mr. Queen,” Logan said, more politely than he thought a man who was likely looking to turn a child into a soldier really deserved.
“I’m sure we can come to an arrangement,” Queen said, the genial smile slipping off his face as the men behind him shifted, hands straying towards holsters on hips.
“I asked you,” Logan said calmly, making sure his words were loud and clear, “to get off my land. I ain’t asking again.”
It had been a long, long time since someone had truly tried to intimidate Logan. He smiled at the idea and let his claws down slowly and pointedly, keeping his eyes on Queen the entire time. He saw the moment the man noticed, his face paling
The antsy black-haired man in the back actually pulled out his revolver and aimed it at Logan’s face but before he got a shot off, an arrow landed in the dirt at Queen’s feet.
And then a second and a third, perfectly placed in front of each man because Queen was right and Roy was an incredible archer, though Logan had suffered through many heated debates over who was actually better: Roy or Clint.
“You’re not welcome here,” Dick said, always the loudest and most confident of the three boys, coming up to stand next to Logan and brandishing a knife he’d gotten from God knows where in his hand.
“Yeah,” Clint chimed in a beat later. “Go ‘way.”
Queen put his hands up, mouth twisting slightly into a smile, like three twelve-year-olds defending their home was cute instead of threatening.
“Alright. Message received.” He glanced back at his two companions and motioned for them to stand down.
“I’ll be at the fort for a few more days, if you change your mind,” he said, directing his words not just to Roy but to all three of the boys and to Logan himself. The posse backed up slowly and steadily, not turning their backs until they’d put a good amount of distance between them and the cabin.
Once they were well into the woods and out of sight, Logan resheathed his claws, put his hands on his hips, and turned around to face the boys They were all unrepentant and truth be told, even though he hadn’t needed them to defend him, there was something uncomfortably soft in his chest at the way they’d leapt to do so anyway.
“We’re gonna have to move on from here,” he said finally. Oliver Queen might’ve left, but Logan didn’t trust him not to come back and he wasn’t going to trust the folks in this area not to come after them either, not with his claws and his little trio of armed and dangerous kids revealed for what they were.
Dick shrugged, more than used to a semi-nomadic life.
“We could go to California,” he suggested.
“No, Arizona!” Clint countered.
“CANADA!!” Roy yelled with unrestrained enthusiasm.
Logan just shook his head and herded them back inside. They’d figure it out and they’d move on together. No one was going to take any of his boys away from him.