"Ye see that thar bull?" he exclaimed.

"Yeah whut 'bout it?" Four Way Shot asked.

"Imma a-gonne ride him today!"

Four Way Shot shook his head and laughed a little inside, his two year old brother had been rambling on and on about riding the bull that his father had bought a few weeks ago for awhile. The bull in the pen was a big one, a big yellow colored bull with long and sharp horns, the bull was four years old. The bull hadn't had his horns sharpened to a blunt end yet, his father hadn't gotten around to it yet.

"Shur ye is," Four Way Shot laughed. "an' I'mma a-gonna git wings an' fly south fer the winter."

"I is," his brother exclaimed. "jus' ye wait!"

"Why don't ye go an' ride him now?" Four Way Shot suggested. "Pa ain't around."

He and his brother were standing on the fence that was around the bull, the bull had his head down and was eating some hay that his father had thrown in earlier. His brother was holding on tightly to the top board on the fence, he was only ten inches tall. His brother dressed similarly to himself, he was wearing a white shirt with tassels on the shoulder pads, a red vest with white tassels below the stitches on the bottom, blue jeans with a red patch on the right knee, a black belt held them up, the belt's buckle was a golden bull with red eyes and blue nostrils, dark brown boots with gold spurs on the heel and a grey kercheif was around his neck, his hat had a stampede string around it, his cowboy hat was red with yellow stitches around the brim.

"Whar is our pappy?" his brother asked.

"Somewhar 'round the pig pen I think." Four Way Shot said. "Ye gonna ride that bull or are ye jus' gonna stand thar an' gawk at him?"

"Imma a-gonna ride him!" his brother said loudly. "Imma a-goin' right now!"

His brother pulled himself up to the top of the fence and then jumped into the ring, his hat flew from his back over his shoulder, with a swift movement he threw it back over and started walking towards the bull. Four Way Shot didn't really understand how he and his younger brother were related. They had the same mother and father, but he and his brother looked nothing alike. His younger brother had brown-blond hair that ran past his ear, he had allowed it to grow to his shoulders one time, just recently he had taken a sharp rock and had cut off most of it, his younger brother also had two arms, like himself he wore gloves.

"Hey thar bull," his younger brother called. "I ain't a-gonna hurt ye, I's jus' gonna climb on yer back."

The bull lifted his head up and looked at his brother for the longest time before going back to eating the hay. Around his girth was a rope that was a little bit loose, it was a braided rope for training the bull. With a click of his spurs, his younger brother ran at the bull and grabbed it, the bull bayed then jumped up, with his brother hanging on with one hand, the other was up in the air, as was his hat.

"Yeeeeeeeaaaaaaaahaaaaaaawwwwww!" his brother yelled.

Arson lifted his head up and looked towards the pen that the bull was in, what he saw made his red eyes with the yellow and orange star burst in the middle light up bright. The yellow bull was bucking high in the air and he was making the loudest sounds he had ever heard. On the side of the bull, his legs pressed up hard against the side and stomach of the bull, was his youngest half brother, Single Shot.

"Dad!" Arson roared. "Uncle Tex! Come quick!"

His father looked up from the book he was reading, when he saw the bull leap up in the air, his back arched, he threw the book to the side and rushed forward. His six armed uncle, of whom he would always call Uncle Tex, didn't have to look up to know what was happening, he dropped the rope that was in his hands and ran over quickly, they were at the fence before he was.

"Single Shot!" his uncle yelled. "Git yer lil' butt off o' mah bull this minute!"

"Nooooooo." Single Shot's voice carried to them on the wind. "I will a-not."

"Ye'll git yer behind..." his uncle started to say then stopped.

His uncle raised his boot over the top board and jumped over, Arson could tell that he was not happy. His uncle was wearing a white button up long sleeved shirt with four extra arms stitched under the first set, a brown leather vest was over it, the vest housed a set of holsters that had two Colt .45's in them. His uncle had a pair of blue jeans that were being held up by a black belt that housed four more holsters that had four more Colt .45's in them, his uncle had black boots on his feet, there were silver spurs on the heels on them, around his uncle's neck was a red kerchief, there was a black cowboy hat on his head. Looking over to the side, Arson saw that his half brother that he preferred to call just brother was hanging over the fence, he could detect him yelling out his full brother's name.

Four Way Shot and Arson had a great relationship, they were very close to each other, Arson wouldn't spend ten minutes away from his brother's side. Four Way Shot was wearing a white button up long sleeved shirt with red and green stripes, a brown leather vest over it housed a set of holsters that had two Colt .45's inside, he was wearing a pair of blue jeans that were being held up by a black belt with a silver buckle, another set of holsters hung from it, they housed two more Colt. 45's, there were brown boots on his feet with silver spurs on the heel, on his head was a brown hat, under his chin was a blue kerchief, he had black gloves on his hands, over his jeans was a pair of black and white chaps.

"Yeeeeaaaaahaaaawwwww!" he heard his younger half brother shout.

His uncle had thrown a rope around the bull which had made it jump up one final time. This time the bull twisted his body and deposited Single Shot on the ground in front of his father who had the rope in his hands held taut. Placing one of his feet on the ground, he stood up shakily on his feet and took a few shaky steps away from his father, he was almost out of the pen when his father turned around, Arson could tell by the way his uncle's shoulders pulled up them dropped that he was pissed.

"Not so fast!" his uncle said.

Single Shot didn't stand by and wait for his father to walk up to him, he stooped low and climbed out of the pen, when he was out he ran. Single Shot was fast, the fastest of all of them. His father kicked up his feet and created some dust, he was out of the pen and right behind his youngest son in a few seconds, when he grabbed Single Shot he heaved him up and encircled the three arms on his right side around him.

"I have a feeling a certain young cowboy that just rode an untrained bull is about to get the whupping of his life." Arson thought to himself.

Looking over his shoulder, Arson saw that his father was walking back to his book, usually his father would bring a book outside on cold days about fire. His father was wearing a dark grey button up long sleeve shirt and light grey pants, on his feet were black combat boots, there was a tan jacket hanging on the back of his chair. His left arm was a flamethrower and it was very powerful. Just a few weeks ago he had seen his father light a huge bonfire for Halloween, it had been outrageous! Arson had no idea that his father had had that much control and power in his flamethrower, he hoped that one day he would be able to do that.

"Arson..." Four Way Shot called.

"What?" Arson called back.

"Don't tell mah pa that I a-told mah bro to a-ride the bull." Four Way Shot said. "I a-gots enuff goin' on, I a-don't need any more spankin's."

"Will do bro."