A/N: So ... my plan was to start putting together a longer post-series story next, but Hoss has been grumbling rather loudly in my ear that for a Hoss gal my attention has long been focused elsewhere. He's right, and I miss him - so here we are. I have a general outline for this, but can't say exactly where or how it will end up; therefore, I hope you have fun hanging out with us and finding out (along with me) where Hoss is taking me. ;-)

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Man and horse relaxed as they ambled around the barn and into the yard. It had been a long, hot, exhausting week, and they were both—Chubb never said, of course, but they were pretty close and Hoss was sure he could speak for the ol' boy as well—lookin' forward to a good bath (or brush down), a good feed, and a good bed. Nothin' like eating with a bunch of cows, wearing out your rear end on a saddle day after day, and bunking with a coughin', spittin', smokin' cowboy ta really make a body appreciate home.

"Hoss!"

Jud Dawson's voice hailed as Hoss pulled the big black to a stop in front of the barn. Chubb flicked an ear and twitched his tail at a passing fly as his rider turned to grin at the approaching hand.

"Jud. How's life back here in the nice comfy bunk?"

The older man laughed easily, slapping Chubb's flank as he rocked back on his heels. Dawson had been with the Ponderosa for only a couple of years. Unlike several of the more long-term hands, he didn't remember Hoss's first attempts to ride a horse or rope a steer or fire a gun, and he'd had little trouble accepting the sixteen-year-old son of the boss on an equal footing. Their relationship had been a friendly one from the time Hoss had started working with the men full-time. Jud always made a point of including the younger man in conversation and gossip, and had even warned him in advance of a few more aggressive hazing attempts. Now, he stepped back as Hoss slowly dismounted.

"Nice and comfy." Jud chuckled again. "And quiet, with old Frank gone. That man could saw through a whole forest of logs."

Hoss just grinned, keeping it well under his hat that his brothers made the same complaint about him on a regular basis. Course, it probably weren't no real secret. "Well, can't say he slept good enough ta do much snorin' this week. Spent too much time coughin' and hackin' all night."

"Yeah?"

"Sounds ta me like he's got some sort o' chest thing settlin' in. I tried ta send him back three or four times, told him ta go in to the Station and see the doc, but he wouldn't do it. Kept blamin' them nasty ol' open-ended cigars he's always smokin'."

"He have those in the shack with you?"

"Not hardly. I made him take 'em outside—I like ta breathe, even if it don't seem ta concern him too awful much."

Jud's grin flashed. "Where is the old fella, anyway?"

"Aw, I sent him off toward the doc anyway when we got close enough in. Ain't no guarantee he'll actually go, but he seemed willin' enough."

"Prob'ly willin' enough ta go sit with the boys around the beer barrel, at least."

Hoss shook his head. "Probably. But I ain't got no control over that."

Dawson thumped his shoulder companionably. "Least ya know it." He shook his head. "Anyway, we're sure glad ta see you back, kid."

"Yeah?" Hoss felt a flash of surprised pleasure. The summer had been a hard one for any number of reasons, not least of which was trying to fit himself in with the older hands who were now his daily companions. It would be good to think that … but no. It just wasn't the kind of thing Jud was like to say, and he wasn't surprised when the man kept on.

"You gotta talk to that brother of yours, kid."

Hoss's heart settled into his gut, and he was glad he was faced away for the moment so that Dawson couldn't see his expression.

Not again.

"Jud, I ain't even been—"

"Yeah, but you'll see right quick. The way he's had us spread out all over the place this week stead of gettin' things done section by section …" They'd been … mendin' a bunch of fence? Hoss wasn't completely sure, but he thought so. That storm a couple of weeks back had sure done a number on them fences … "Now, I'm sure Adam just don't know, him bein' gone away for so long, but there are ways we do things here. He don't—"

"Adam was workin' this land afore any of the rest of us. He—"

"That was a long time ago, Hoss. I'm sure he'll get settled in right quick, but he ain't been back long enough to know—"

Hoss leaned against Chubb, who shifted but took his weight. "Look, Jud. I dunno about—"

"Come on, kid." Dawson's hand landed on his shoulder, offering a friendly squeeze. "Your brother listens to you. The boys are all countin' on you ta get this thing straightened out."

What could he say to that? Hoss shuffled uneasily. He knew that since Adam had come back from college earlier that summer and taken over the job of range boss, some of the hands were having a hard time adjusting to the change. He understood that—he'd had a little trouble himself takin' orders from a man who hadn't seen a cow in four years, though he'd been careful to keep that well under his hat. Also, Adam sure enough did do things different than Ben. Some things, at least. All right, a lot of things. Sometimes even Hoss wondered what ol' Adam was thinkin'—but that didn't mean things on the range were any better or worse under his brother. Only different.

The hands were stubborn, the whole lot of them. Course, that was just the way cowhands were. They liked Adam, and they respected him. Weren't no question about that. But right at the moment, they respected him as Ben Cartwright's son, and as one of the Ponderosa's founders, and as a smart, college-educated man with a good head under pressure and a passel of good ideas for the ranch. It was the day-to-day they strained against, and too often lately Hoss had somehow found himself smack dab in the middle, with both sides waiting on him to back them.

It plumb wore a body out.

"Jud, I … I'll see what I can do."

Hoss hated himself even as he said it, but he knew he'd never outright refuse—just as they probably knew it, too. He was the youngest of the Ponderosa's full-time employees by a good five years, and he'd worked hard to gain the respect and confidence of the older hands. If they started thinkin' he was just gonna side with his brother every time …

"Thanks, boy." Jud slapped his shoulder again, then turned to amble away. "Glad ta have you back!"

"Yeah," Hoss sighed, nudging Chubb toward the barn door. "Sure 'nough."

He had the black's saddle off and was starting in with the curry brush when another voice spoke from behind. "Hoss! When did you get back?"

"Hey, brother." Hoss glanced back at Adam, who was leading Sport into his own stall. "Not long—coupla' minutes ago."

"Get everything finished up out there?"

"Mostly. Numbers are still off by a few head, but I don't think it's anything but wrong place, wrong time—ain't no sign of anything more, anyhow."

"Good." Adam heaved the chestnut's saddle off, stored his tack, and started in with his own curry brush. "Glad to have you back here, it was a long week."

"Yeah?" Hoss offered cautiously. His older brother was a little more likely to admit to such a thing just for the sake of it than Jud Dawson, but still …

"It'll be good to have somebody around that's on my side for a change." Adam shook his head, and Hoss's gut sank. Yep, here it came. "This has got to be the stubbornest group of hands I can ever remember. It doesn't matter what I want them to do, somebody's always got some better way. It's not like I just make this stuff up for no reason—and it's not even that many changes. There are more efficient ways to do things than just 'because it's what we've always done'. You'd think I was suggesting a wholesale upset of ranching in general, the way they go on."

"Yeah." He seemed to be saying a lot of that lately. Just didn't seem much else to say. Hoss took a half-hearted stab at Jud's request. "Ya know, Adam, them hands have been here a while, most of 'em. Maybe they've already tried some of them ideas and it didn't work out. You ever ask 'em?"

Adam was busy untangling several burrs from Sport's tail. "Of course." Which, knowin' Adam, could mean anything from 'yes' to 'I didn't really hear your question'. "But just because something didn't work out once …" Sport nickered irritably, and Adam took a minute to calm him. "… doesn't mean it isn't a good idea. It just means it lacked in the planning."

Right. Or maybe it just wasn't as efficient as ol' Adam seemed ta think. Hoss took an extra firm swipe along Chubb's shoulder. The big black groaned softly, leaning into him, and he chuckled. "Yeah, I guess so, buddy. You're gonna be asleep 'fore I ever finish, ain't ya?"

"Anyway, be good to have you out there again." Adam finished with Sport's tail and moved around to the horse's other side. Hoss mumbled something noncommittal. Why did everybody seem ta think that he had the magic answer that would make the whole place just get along? A clatter of hooves out in the yard, and Little Joe's voice called out a greeting to someone—Dawson, most likely. Adam snorted softly, shaking his head. "Speaking of good to have you back …"

Aw, dang it. That cabin and ol' Frank's coughin' was lookin' better by the minute.

"What? You two not gettin' on?"

Please don't say yes …

"No, no." Adam held up one hand. "We're getting along fine, mostly because I just bite my tongue and turn him over to Pa when he's about to push me over the edge. That kid does have a way about him."

That was the pot calling the kettle, if Hoss had ever heard it. "Yeah." If he had a nickel for every time he'd said that word lately …

"I know he understands. I know it! He's a smart kid. But then he just …" Adam tossed his hands into the air. The curry went skittering into a corner. Sport snorted, and Adam went to retrieve it.

"He's ten, Adam. He don't think like the rest of us."

"But I never—"

"No, but you had a whole different growin' up than Joe."

"That's for sure."

In truth, Adam and Little Joe had been dang near inseparable since Adam's return from the East. Both were anxious to know the other again, beyond the too-infrequent letters exchanged across a continent, and a whole host of college stories and fishin' trips and long rides and such had strung out over the course of the weeks following Adam's arrival. He'd actually been feelin' a mite jealous lately—though he'd never have admitted it. His brothers needed their time together. Hoss had known Adam for a lot longer, and he'd been Joe's constant companion for all the time Adam was away at school. It was them two who needed to reconnect. He couldn't begrudge them that.

He didn't.

And anyways, there were plenty of times it was all three of them. But Hoss had to admit, he missed makin' the plans with his little brother, rather than bein' invited along after.

He just needed to get over himself, was all there was to it.

"Well, you'll work it out. You know Little Joe, he changes so fast he'll forget next minute he was mad ta begin with." Hoss offered a grin over Chubb's back. "Maybe you can learn somethin' from our little brother, big brother."

"Huh." Adam laughed softly. "That'll be the day."

And that was part of the problem.

He wasn't sticking around for it, not back for five minutes and all in.

"Well, I'm about beat. I'm gonna go sleep for the next week."

"Or until supper."

"Yeah. Think Hop Sing's makin' chicken and dumplin's."

Adam tossed a frown over Sport's rump. "How'd you know? You haven't been here."

Hoss grinned. "Smelled it from up the trail. Good stuff." He strolled out, leaving Adam to mutter his disbelief at the chestnut horse. Weren't his fault his brothers' noses weren't up ta snuff …

He had one foot on the porch when the front door crashed open and Joe flung himself out across the porch. "Hoss!" Hoss caught him before he fell and tossed him up once (but not high enough to hit the overhang, they'd learned that lesson the hard way) before ducking into the house. Joe followed. "Sure glad to see you!" Not again. This one, though, he could probably count on to be … "Bossy-pants Adam thinks he owns the world and can tell me what ta do in which part of it." Joe tugged at his sleeve, pulling Hoss to a stop. "Do you think ya can remind him he's not Pa?"

Dadburn it. And all he wanted was a good long nap …

"Sure you been doin' plenty o' that on your own, shortshanks."

"Yeah, but he don't listen to me. If you tell him …"

"What makes you think he'll listen to me?"

"He always listens ta you."

Oh, if you only knew.

"Joe … is this somethin' he's supposed ta be tellin' ya? Because—"

"Hey, me and Adam's gonna go ridin' tomorrow. He's gonna show me how to shoot that rifle you used ta use when you were my age." Joe bounced twice. "If Adam says I'm ready, Pa might let me go squirrel and rabbit huntin' with you guys this year!"

Well, Joe headin' off that question was sure as shootin' evidence that whatever little spat he and big brother had goin' was as much his fault as Adam's. Maybe more. That wasn't what caught Hoss's attention, though.

"Gonna teach you ta shoot that ol' rifle, is he?"

"Yeah! Pa said I was old enough. Finally." Joe shook his head and rolled his eyes, something he sure wouldn't do if Pa was in the room. Course, everybody knew Joe's opinions about Pa makin' him wait so long (Joe's words) to learn ta shoot that thing. Hoss understood. Pa was worried that Joe's shifting attention would fail him at the wrong time, making him a danger to whoever he happened to be shooting with. But Hoss didn't think so, and he'd been tryin' ta convince their pa for months to just let him take the kid out at least once and see how things went.

Guess ol' Adam was more convincin'. Or Pa thought big brother was more responsible. Neither one sounded any better to him than the other. In any event, didn't seem like he was gonna be the one teachin' Joe ta shoot that rifle.

Suddenly, Hoss was more tired than hungry.

Wasn't him doin' a lot o' things anymore.

Hoss shook those thoughts away. He didn't have time for 'em, and there weren't no point in it anyways. Things changed. He'd missed Adam all them years, and he was nothin' but glad his big brother was back. Just took some gettin' used to, was all.

"Joseph!"

Little Joe ducked quickly behind Hoss, peering from behind him as their Pa strode in from the kitchen. "Yeah, Pa?"

Ben stopped, planted his hands on his hips, and raised one dark brow. "Is your homework done yet, young man?"

Joe glowered. "Adam been tellin' on me again?"

The eyebrow lifted higher—something which always amazed Hoss. "No. Should he be?"

When would the kid learn to just keep his mouth shut? Joe shook his head sullenly.

"No, Adam has said nothing to me. I asked because I'm your father and I'm the one who's laid down rules about what you are and are not allowed to do before your homework is finished. I have not seen you around here all day, therefore I would assume your homework is done. Am I in error?"

Little Joe shuffled his feet. Hoss edged out from between his pa and brother, but Joe grabbed quickly for him. "Pa, Hoss just got home!"

"Oh, no." Hoss untangled him. "You ain't pullin' me into this, boy."

"You had plenty of time to do your homework before your brother got back. That's no one's fault but your own." Ben pointed toward the stairs, and his brows dipped into an impressive frown. "Go!"

Joe grumbled something beneath his breath, but dragged obediently toward the stairs. Hoss caught his elbow as he passed, leaning in to whisper, "This what you and Adam been fightin' about?" The glare Joe gave him was confirmation enough, and Hoss shook his head. What the heck went on in that little brain sometimes? "Joe, why do you do this? You know you're gonna get in trouble." His brother shrugged. "Wouldn't it just be easier to—"

"Joseph!"

Hoss released Joe's arm, and the boy scampered up the stairs. A warm hand gripped his shoulder. Hoss straightened, looking around. "You'd think he'd learn."

"You'd think." Ben's rich chuckle drifted over them. He released Hoss then and strolled over to the massive wooden desk. Hoss followed, perching on one corner as Ben sat in the padded chair. "How was your week?"

Long, but all that time had given him a couple of good ideas about how to keep the herd from gettin' into all them boggy areas in the north pasture. "We done got the count, but we're gonna have ta send somebody up there again if we want ta keep them steers on solid ground. Don't know what's causin' it, but we got a couple more soft spots than last time out."

"Oh?" Ben pulled out one of his ledgers, thumbing through the pages.

"Yeah. But I was thinkin' that—"

"I'll have your brother head out that way and take a look. Maybe he'll be able to figure out what's causing the problem—put all that money I spent on his education to good use."

Education. Right, but ... "I was thinkin' we could just—"

"Good, I'm glad." Pa found the page he was after and made a notation in one of the columns. "You can ride out with Adam, show him what you've found." He flipped a page. "Not this weekend, though. We want to finish up all that fence mending so the southern herd doesn't wander off too." Ben shook his head. "If it's not one herd, it's another …"

That was true enough. With so many cattle spread across so many miles and so many different kinds of terrain, there was bound ta always be somethin' goin' wrong someplace. Kept a body—multiple bodies—on their toes. Hoss reminded himself (once again) that Adam was back now, and that meant Pa was gonna be sendin' him to his brother for these things as often as just listenin' himself. And it wasn't that Hoss didn't know good and well that Adam was up to the job. It was just … well, he'd liked knowin' that Pa listened to what he had to say.

And Pa did still listen, he told himself. Just not always directly. Hoss nodded. "Sure, Pa." He stood and stretched. "I'm gonna go drop my stuff, wash up."

Ben glanced up. "Probably sounds good about now."

"Real good." Hoss shook his head. "That ol' Frank is somethin' else."

Ben chuckled. "Isn't he, though?" Hoss flashed a grin—weren't no more needed sayin' about Frank, really—and ambled toward the stairs. Pa's voice followed. "Good to have you back, son."

"Good to be back, Pa."

"Your brothers spend a lot less time fighting when you're around." Yup. There it was. Not even a surprise. Ben didn't look up again from his ledgers, but pointed one finger toward Hoss. "Don't think I don't know why, either."

At least there was that. And he didn't mind … but it got tirin' after a while. "Yeah." Didn't seem nothin' else ta say. Hoss nodded, and fled up the stairs. His saddlebags thumped with a puff of dust and stale odor into one corner, and he flopped down on the bed regardless of the trail dirt and old sweat Hop Sing would yell about later. He was darned tired, and just wanted to stretch out for a minute …

Dadblame it. He'd almost forgot, after a week away, that his bed had gotten too short.

'Nother thing he'd have to remind Pa about. Again.