A/N: So I lied. I couldn't wait until Friday to publish the next chapter. Possibly I am addicted to reviews...probably.

Those of you who asked about Troublemakers Collection, the next chapter will be out tomorrow.

Shout out to the reviewers (I just realized I am late to work, so I am just going to list your names, but know I love you all, and am super grateful) Leandra Falconwing, Guest, Lunaz, Mhart, Millie2007, Larafrank, Terry, you guys rock!

*.*.*.*.*.*

Josiah shifted in the uncomfortable airline seat, wishing he could sleep, but he'd already known it probably wasn't happening when he'd begged off with Rene. It had been a nice idea, nice of her to offer to listen, but he'd found himself reluctant to go on, unable to tell someone who may or may not understand that within six months of Colleen's death Daddy had gotten her best friend pregnant-mutual grief and mutual comfort had led to one Bucklin Reed Wilmington.

Lord, Buck was over thirty. He'd been fourteen the last time Josiah had seen him.

He certainly didn't want to tell her about the uproar that had run over the small town when exactly how Auntie Rosie had paid off The Saloon had become common knowledge. So she'd made a few movies? If it bothered them people didn't have to watch-exactly what Rosie said to anyone who had the gall to say something to her face.

If the rumors that she'd done a bit more were true-well, Josiah wasn't a prude, and he wasn't a hypocrite either-if fleshy desires were a sin the whole planet was going to hell.

Daddy punching some asshole who'd asked him when he was going to sue for full custody square in the jaw, flattening him on the sidewalk in the middle of main street was still one of his favorite memories. Buck squealing in delight from the double stroller he had been pushing, shouting "Again, again!", Josiah assumed thinking it was like a cartoon, just perfected it.

The Larabee boy's had come by their tendency to punch first naturally, that was for sure. Daddy had been an impulsive, emotional, man in general, quick to laugh, brood, or fight. Josiah had a long fuse, but once you burned it to the end even he would admit he came unglued. If he got liquored up that fuse pretty much disappeared, too. Nearly gotten himself in trouble a couple times when he was in the Marines, and had gotten himself kicked out of a monastery.

When he was a kid it seemed like he'd gotten into a fight almost every month-though he'd had nothing on Chris and Buck when they'd gotten into junior high. The way Daddy had talked he'd been getting a call from the principal at least once a week Buck's first year. Apparently the principal had gotten tired of Auntie Rosie inevitably asking, "What did the little shit do to deserve it?", when they called her. The rules had always been simple when it came to fighting though-if you had a good reason you didn't get in trouble, if not your ass was grass. Of course, Daddy's interpretation of a good reason had often been a little narrower than his own.

Not to mention, at least when he'd gotten into his teen years, Josiah had often been of the opinion that such things were his business, not Daddy's...

*.*.*.*.*.*

"Josiah...son...if you won't tell me why you dumped Nathan's fingerpaint on your cousin's head and then shoved him on his rear you're spending the rest of the day in your room, and you're going to miss the picnic and the fireworks. Just tell me." Linc was pinching the ridge of his brow, clearly getting to the end of his rope, but the 14 year old just sat stubbornly on the end of his bed, arms crossed across his chest.

"It's between me and Henry." Josiah was still planning to black Henry's eye, had been about to do that when Uncle Orin had pulled him away from the older boy-he couldn't tell on him too.

"It quit being between you and Henry when you started something in the middle of the yard in front of half the family." Josiah scoffed and his father's arms crossed, "Fine then. You change your mind we aren't heading for the lake for another hour, come find me. If not I don't want you leaving this room except to go to the bathroom, or get yourself some food later, understood?" He'd grunted in answer, flopping backwards where he sat to stare at the ceiling, hearing his father leave and shut his door behind him but not acknowledging it.

Today sucked.

Henry knew he'd asked Maria to hang out with him at the picnic, knew that Josiah liked her, and he'd still been kissing her behind the shed! Josiah wouldn't have done that to him. Like he even wanted to go on the stupid picnic now.

Crap, he was gonna have to spend part of his allowance to get Nate more fingerpaint.

*.*.*.*.*.*

Josiah slunk slowly in the back door into the kitchen, hoping Mama Clara wouldn't notice him as he made his way up the back stairs, as technically, he was supposed to be back half an hour ago, and also he hadn't had a fat lip when he left. It wasn't too bad, if he got up to the bathroom and put a cold compress on it it should mostly disappear, and if he came down the stairs when she called them for lunch Josiah figured Mama Clara would assume he'd been home when he should have. Hopefully.

Apparently he was later then he thought, because when he was three or four feet from the bottom of the staircase, too far away to slink up them before she saw Clara came through the doorway, Nathan on her hip and Chris, complaining that he was bored with his partner in crime at his Momma's until the weekend, following behind.

"Chris, you saw Buck two days ago, and since Daddy is taking you all fishing tomorrow you'll see him then too. Mama promises, you'll survive." She saw Josiah and smiled at him as she started putting Nathan in his highchair, "There you are, I was starting to get a little worried. Go wash up, lunch is ready." Relieved, Josiah had all but jogged up the stairs, crashing into a broad chest as he came around the corner at the top, nearly going over backwards until Daddy reached out and grabbed both his shoulders. Crap, Josiah had thought he was out doing repairs on one of the back pasture fences today, ordinarily he brought his lunch with him when he was out that far.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing running on the stairs?" Daddy had looked a bit scared, but his face was starting to get that tight look that meant he wasn't happy.

"Um..."

"And what happened to your lip?" He pulled Josiah away from the edge of the stairs, over to the window, flipping on the hall light for good measure.

"It's nothing." Daddy ignored him, tilting Josiah's face up so he could see his lip, examining it gently, even as he tried to squirm away from the touch.

"Doesn't look like nothing, but you'll live." He let go of Josiah, and looked at him with a mixture of consternation and amusement, "Who were you fighting this time?"

"...Greg Mason."

Daddy's face changed, anger growing, but Josiah was pretty sure not with him, "Nineteen year old Greg Mason? Who's got at least thirty pounds on you?"

"Daddy, it's not a big deal..."

"Like hell it isn't. What happened?"

Josiah sighed, then tried a distraction tactic, "Mama Clara asked me to wash up and come down for lunch, I should-"

"And I'm asking you to tell me what happened-trust me, she'll understand."

Josiah sighed again, feeling more than a little put on the spot, and not wanting to tell Daddy what Greg had said, because he was pretty sure if Daddy beat up a teenager he'd wind up in jail. "I kicked his butt?"

Daddy definitely snorted at that, even if he tried to turn it into a cough, and the next second growled out, "Josiah."

"He said some stuff, so I said some stuff...and then he said something even worse, and I shoved him, he shoved me back, and well," He gestured at his face, "I gave him a bloody nose and he gave me a fat lip. I gave as good as I got."

"Well, good. That's all you're gonna tell me?"

Josiah shrugged, "It's what happened." Daddy shook his head, apparently deciding to drop it.

"Alright, but if he bothers you again, I want to hear about it, understand?"

"Yes sir," was what Josiah said, but he was thinking 'yeah, right'. He didn't need his father to help him deal with somebody like Greg, he wasn't a little kid.

"Well then go wash up, and get down to lunch." Daddy headed down the stairs then, and Josiah went to wash his hands, figuring there was no point in trying to hide the fat lip from Mama Clara, as Daddy wouldn't.

Nobody needed to know what that Mason piece of garbage had said about her, or her and Daddy being married, and especially about Nathan. He'd figured out he couldn't bother Josiah with comments about him anymore, and had immediately stepped over a line that meant Josiah couldn't have backed down if he'd wanted to. He hadn't wanted to.

He wished he'd done a hell of a lot more, but Mason had friends with him, and even though Josiah had seen a few of their faces blanch at the worst of the comments they still would have backed him up if Josiah had done more than swing back.

Done, and starting to feel hungry, Josiah went down to the kitchen, being sure not to run on them this time, and settled down next to Nathan at his call of, "'Siah sit, 'Siah sit me!", the toddler immediately patting his face with his soft, slightly sticky hand, loudly declaring, "Hi! Hi 'Siah!", the few hours since breakfast apparently much too long for him.

"Hi Nathan." Josiah had been planning to go back to town after he did his afternoon chores, but instead he thought he was going to stay here, maybe do something with the boys. As Nathan attempted to tangle his hand in Josiah's curls, he extracted it with a laugh, pressing a kiss to the back.

*.*.*.*.*.*

Still, whether he'd liked it or not Daddy had generally gotten the answer out of him.

*.*.*.*.*.*

"Before I drag you to the barn by your ear you want to tell me what the heck you thought you were doing?"

"Fighting." Josiah immediately regretted the flippant answer as Linc's face got angrier, ears going red, gulping and muttering an almost inaudible sorry, relieved when he saw the man take a deep breath.

"Your uncle just risked his job to keep you from getting arrested, you really think now is a good time to be a smart ass, Josiah Ramon?"

"No sir."

"Better." He took another deep breath, "You know, I'm not even going to ask what you were doing in the bar, I was sixteen once, but you will tell me what you think you were doing starting a bar brawl, and if you're smart you'll tell me now."

"I was only fighting with one guy!"

"And you nearly put him in the hospital! Either way, you threw a punch and the whole bar went mad. If it weren't for Orin you'd be in juvy for assault, disturbing the peace, and probably inciting violence-and that's not counting being in a bar and underage drinking!" Josiah shifted where he stood in the driveway-he'd thought the utter silence from Daddy the entire ride home had been bad enough. Daddy hadn't even been this mad last summer when he'd told him and Mama Clara he was going to Ricky's for the weekend, and actually gone to a folk concert in Nevada. "I'd like to believe you didn't do it for no reason, but if you won't tell me what am I supposed to think?" Josiah hesitated, he wasn't entirely sure he'd seen what he thought he'd seen now, he'd only seen the man leaning over her drink for a second. What if he was wrong? "Josiah, I don't want to tan you, but I'm about to."

"That guy I was fighting? I think he put something in a ladies drink."

Daddy deflated before his eyes, his hand coming to squeeze his shoulder. "Alright then. You're not in trouble. Go on inside, let Clara know you're okay. I gotta call your Mama." Then he tugged Josiah into a quick embrace, pressing a kiss to the side of his head-they were almost the same height now, he couldn't reach the top anymore-, "You're a good boy. You make me proud."

*.*.*.*.*.*

Turning his head towards the window, sliding down in his seat as much as his height would allow, Josiah wiped his red eyes, willing the tears back mostly unsuccessfully. A plane, in this day and age, was not the place to have a breakdown. His relationship with Daddy had been far from perfect, the man had been a contradiction in some ways, but there were so many more good memories than there were bad ones. Now, the chance to make new memories, good or bad was gone. He was gone. Closing his eyes after a minute, he tried to fall asleep again, and exhaustion catching up with him, eventually fell into a fitful rest.

*.*.*.*.*.*

Chris leaned against the pillar in the crowded airport, hat tilted down to hide his eyes even as he scanned the crowd for Josiah's broad frame.

Only reason he knew what he looked like was because he'd sent Daddy a picture in his email, a week or two after they started talking again. Probably would have known him anyway, he looked enough like Daddy had at forty to be scary.

A week or two after seventeen years of silence. Seventeen years Chris couldn't understand and didn't really want to.

He'd understand the first time Josiah had taken off, when he'd been a hotheaded teenager, angry at his Mama's mind deteriorating, him and Daddy at each others throats all the time. Understood why Mama Clara had all but thrown Daddy out of the house when she'd come home that day.

It had been bad. It had been so bad. Chris didn't know what happened, what it had been about, even now, just that his father and big brother had been screaming at each other. There had been something different about that day, something heavy hanging in the air that eclipsed the previous tension. They'd been fighting for months, really, but this had been by far the worst of it, bad enough Daddy had made the little ones go outside. They weren't supposed to be listening, but Chris hadn't been able to move away, for all he couldn't hear any words, only the anger. Suddenly there had been a scuffling sound and a loud thumping noise. Buck, who at eight had seen far more in his mother's bar, peering over the railings and listening at doors when he was meant to be asleep, than either of his parents realized, had grabbed onto Chris's arm, tight. "Daddy hit Josiah." It was all he'd said as he'd pushed himself against his older brother for comfort, but the way he'd said it, somehow both horrified and matter of fact, had left no doubt in Chris's mind. Daddy had hit Josiah.

Nathan had been over in the far corner of the yard, the four year old playing contentedly in the sandbox, but Chris and Buck had stood there, watching helplessly as Josiah had stormed out of the house minutes later, full duffle bag over his shoulder, and a livid bruise spreading across his cheekbone. Linc, distraught over what he'd done, had been following him, telling him he was sorry, begging him to stay, even telling him he would leave for the night instead, but Josiah had utterly ignored him, stopping only to give each of his brothers a hug. Nathan hadn't even realized anything was wrong until his hero had told him goodbye, the bruise and tears on his brother's face scaring him so that he began to cry as Josiah walked away. When Linc had gone to comfort him, Buck, big and strong for his age, had snatched the smaller boy up onto his hip and hurried into the house shying away from his father, both angry and scared. He was on the phone to first his mother and then Clara immediately, taking the cordless up to his bedroom with Nathan still curled into him.

Chris remembered just turning to his father and screaming, screaming that he had ruined everything, that he had hurt his brother and Daddy's weren't allowed to do that. He'd chased his big brother away, and he hated, hated, hated him. Why wasn't he going after Josiah? Why wasn't he making sure his brother knew he was sorry? Why had he hit him? Didn't he love him? Why wasn't he fixing it?! He was a coward and Chris hated him. Linc had just stood there in the yard, defeated and taken it. That had made it so much worse, his father, who had always seemed so strong, just standing there, broken. He'd never, besides that day, seen his father look like that.

It had been the only time, at least as far as Chris knew, that Daddy had ever raised a hand to any of them, not unless you counted the occasional smack upside the head, or 'discussion' in the barn if one of them really stepped out of line, and Chris didn't. He lectured, and he could yell like anything if you got him going, but he didn't hit.

Mama Clara must have driven like a bat out of hell, because she turned the twenty minute drive from the clinic into a ten minute one, and had marched into the yard looking like an avenging fury. She'd asked Chris in an almost too calm voice if Josiah had told him where he was going, and then when he said no, if he knew where the little ones were. Could he go inside and get Nathan and himself an overnight bag ready? Aunt Nettie would be here soon to take them to Auntie Rosie's for the night. Chris had been angry enough to rather enjoy the vicious look on Mama Clara's face, not to mention how pale Daddy got when he heard both Aunt Nettie and Auntie Rosie knew what had happened. Served him right.

They hadn't known where Josiah was for months, his grandfather hadn't helped at all, in fact, he'd eventually told them to quit calling as Josiah obviously didn't want them to know where he was. Anna, who had been diagnosed with early onset Alzheimers by then, certainly couldn't help. Daddy had been so miserable and guilty, plus worried out of his mind, it had made it hard to be mad at him, for all Chris had been.

A postcard had come in the mail the fourth month he'd been gone, and a month after Josiah's eighteenth birthday had passed without him. He hadn't said much, just told them he was safe, but he'd sent it from near a military base, and it had taken Daddy ten minutes of calls to figure out he'd signed up about five minutes after he'd turned eighteen. The next day Mama Clara had piled them all in the car, minus Daddy, because he still wouldn't tell her what he and Josiah had been fighting about, Aunt Nettie climbing in the front passenger seat while he'd gaped at them, not believing they were leaving him behind. To ten year old Chris it had been pretty funny.

Adult Chris, who had lost a son, wasn't so sure it was.

When they finally got there, a good four hour ride later, the three boys crammed in the back had been about ready to kill each other. Nathan, barely five, had been in desperate need of a nap and Buck and him had kept slapping at the other when the adults weren't looking and then telling on each other the second they were hit back. Probably, it had really been Clara and Nettie who'd been about to kill someone. They'd all piled out and since, of course, they were civilians with no escort, had been back to waiting all over again in the visitors' center. Mama had gone to work right away finding someone who would let Josiah know he had visitors, only to be told he was in the middle of a training session and they wouldn't even be able to pass along the message for another hour and a half. Nathan had burst into loud and noisy tears, wailing that he was never going to see his "Siah Brother" again, because they had stolen him, and he wouldn't be comforted. Mama Clara had started telling the poor guy stuck at the desk the last six months of family drama, and Buck and Chris had not so subtly begun looking for ways to get into the base proper, convinced they could find Josiah fine all by themselves.

Not that they would have been able to get more than thirty feet away from Mama Clara and Nettie without being unceremoniously hauled back by the ear, but it had been the intention that mattered, or at least the chaos that the Larabees were incapable of going anywhere without causing. That brochure rack should have been sturdier. Not more than an hour later a wary looking Josiah had been all but escorted into the visitors' center. He'd stood there awkwardly for about half a second before all three of them had dog piled on him, Nate not getting crushed was probably some kind of miracle. Mama Clara and Aunt Nettie had hugged him and fussed over him, and then the yelling had started. Josiah had told him later, only half joking, that Clara had nothing on his drill sergeant.

After that though, things had kind of gone back to normal, though it took another six months before Daddy and him had seemed to have hammered things out. Josiah had still been gone of course, being a marine-God, Daddy had been so proud-but they'd been used to that, as he'd mostly lived with his mother. But he'd written, called, visited, he hadn't just disappeared. He'd been their brother.

Then four years later, two years after a brain aneurysm had taken Mama Clara from them, the son of a bitch had done it all over again. Disappeared.

Just left. All over again. This time he hadn't sent a postcard. This time he'd stayed gone.

Seventeen years later, not more than six months ago now, he'd sent their Daddy an email, started writing, calling and now visiting again and that meant Chris was just supposed to pretend none of it had ever happened?

The man had shut off his fucking cell phone. Nate had been staying up half the night for ages, sure that Josiah would log on to IM, emailing him probably five times a day, and there had just been nothing.

It was what Daddy had wanted, Chris knew that. Hell, he'd been making them all promise to try when-Chris drew in a deep breath, pressing his eyes closed for a moment as he held it. No. He wasn't going there. Not here. Not now.

He would try. For Daddy.

And because if things went the way they seemed to for the people Chris cared about, if he waited too long to forgive his brother, he wouldn't be around anymore.

*.*.*.*.*.*

"Figured we'd put you in your old room," Chris said quietly, leading the way up the stairs with one of Josiah's bags over his shoulder.

"Sounds good." Josiah could hear the tired heaviness in his own voice, and was just glad he didn't sound relieved. It had been a relief to walk off the plane, expecting to have to rent a car, or pay about double the standard rate for a cab willing to drive all the way to Four Corners, and see Chris standing there. His little brother, with his determined stance and piercing eyes, stood out in a crowd and always had. It hadn't kept the car ride home from being long and awkward, neither of them knowing what to say; even if Daddy's death hadn't been hanging in the air between them, 17 years of silence was hard to bridge.

Top of the stairs, turn right down the hallway and there it was, third door on the left. Josiah sucked in a breath as Chris took a step to the side, clearly expecting him to go in first. He let his breath out, stepped forward and swung the door open, walking inside only to freeze. Josiah took a deep breath in, staring as he turned in a circle, unable to believe his eyes. "Daddy wouldn't let anybody touch any of it. First 'cause he figured you'd be back. Later, well…" Chris shrugged, moving to lean against the door frame. Josiah wasn't sure he'd ever stop staring. It was all here: his posters, his Steinbeck collection, the CD rack full of the folk music he'd adored.

"It's been almost eighteen years…and it's all exactly the same." He shook his head in disbelief, choking up.

"What didja think, he was gonna turn it into a home gym?" Chris's voice was as thick as Josiah's though he covered it up with a scowl. "Told ya he wouldn't let anybody touch it."

Josiah had discovered something on the bed, "I forgot I brought this here after Mama…" A beat up stuffed owl was picked up, and the only reason Josiah did not cuddle it to his chest was because of the eyes on him.

"Expect you'll want to settle in for a bit. Aunt Nettie washed the bedding, aired it out for you. I'm gonna be down in the den, if you need me. Buck's out with one of the hands, patching some fencing and Nathan will be home later." Chris nodded at him, and then pulled the door shut behind him. Josiah sank slowly onto the bed, clutching the small owl tightly, shoulders starting to shake, fist coming up to his mouth as the first sobs burst out.

17 years. 17 years he'd scorned and denied his father, and for 17 years his father, his Daddy, had kept this shrine to him, this hope that he would come back.

And he had. He had come back. Too late.

'My penance just keeps growing, doesn't it Lord?'

*.*.*.*.*.*

Buck grinned as he saw the older man walk slowly down the stairs, not having noticed him yet, "Well, will you look at what the cows drug home. You got old 'Siah!"

Josiah startled for a second, and then a broad grin spread across his own face, covering the second half of the staircase in half the time of the first, "Bucklin? I got old, look at you!" The two met in a giant of a bear hug, squeezing each other. "I wouldn't have known you."

"Funny thing that happens when you ain't seen someone since they were fourteen." The voice was as quiet as it was angry, and even though it sounded nothing like it did the last time he'd heard it he knew who it belonged to. Josiah turned to see his baby brother, taller than him now and built solid. He sucked in a breath, somehow shocked at not seeing the ten-year-old boy he'd left behind. "Hi, Josiah."

"Hello, Nathan." He can hear the hesitance in his own voice, not an emotion he was particularly used to, but he thought it was warranted. Nathan and he had always been closest to each other, like Chris and Buck were, even with the age difference. Nathan had also always been one of those people who was naturally good, the sort of kid who'd give away his toys or his lunch money without a second thought, but because of that he could view the actions of others with undue harshness, unable to understand that other people weren't like that, or at least unable to accept it. Josiah wasn't sure there was a way to be overly harsh with what he'd done. Nathan held out a hand. Not a hug then. He'd hoped, but he would take what he can get. Josiah reached out to clasp his brother's hand, felt it trembling, just barely, saw Nathan's throat convulse as he swallowed and realized he was being an idiot. He might not be ten anymore, but Nathan was still his baby brother and he tugged him in, wrapping his arms around him in a hug that was a bit gentler than the bear hug with Buck. Nathan hugged back after only a second, but pulled away almost as quickly, with a smile which Josiah couldn't say was more wary or weary. But he wasn't as stiff as he'd been, and he was smiling.

"It's good to have you back 'Siah. It really is."

"It's good to be back."

"I gotta go change outta," He plucked at his work clothes, his scrubs, "this, but I'll be back down later, alright?" Josiah nodded, trying not to frown as Nathan rushed up the stairs, knowing he was rushing away from him and not blaming him. Buck's hand clapped down onto his shoulder, and how was everyone but Chris taller than him now?

"C'mon old man, let's go have some coffee and see what Aunt Nettie left for supper." Buck wasn't sure how to feel about Josiah being back, happy sure, but there were a whole hell of a lot of other emotions too, a lot of them decidedly less pleasant than 'happy'. Didn't mean that, for all it was obvious he'd splashed some water on his face, he couldn't see that Josiah had clearly spent most of the afternoon crying. Buck had always been a sucker for tears.

He was completely ignoring the fact that he looked so much like Daddy it hurt, that except for a deep tan Daddy's fair skin never could have held and blue eyes instead of green Josiah could have been Daddy sixteen years ago.

"Is Aunt Nettie here?"

"Eager or terrified?" Buck joked with a grin that faded quickly as Josiah swallowed with trepidation.

"Little bit of both." He admitted sheepishly.

"Nah, she ain't here. Will be tomorrow morning though, just to warn you. Daddy hired her to do a little housekeeping work, couple years ago. After Uncle Wallace died she needed the money, and you know Aunt Nettie-any chance she could interpret something as a handout and she wouldn't have a thing to do with it." He chuckled, and started heading towards the kitchen, turning his head to talk over his shoulder as Josiah started following after him, 'til he'd caught up. "Doesn't feel like we could survive without her anymore, I'm pretty sure I've forgotten how to cook."

"I remember that cake you made Daddy for Father's day. Pretty sure you never knew how to cook."

"I was twelve! And Daddy said he liked it." Buck was pretending to be offended but he couldn't keep the laugh out of his face. "Think he ate the whole thing."

"Because you looked like you were gonna cry when you took a bite and realized what it tasted like." Even now Josiah had no intention of telling Buck that most of the so-called lemon cake had been fed to Bowser, the family dog. Daddy had choked down the slice Buck had served him, forcing a smile the whole time. "How much sugar did you use?"

"Hey, sweets are supposed to be sweet, alright?" Buck turned his head a bit, catching Josiah's eye and then they were laughing, a full blown fit that had Josiah hanging onto the kitchen doorway and Buck hanging onto Josiah.

It didn't get rid of the elephant in the room. Didn't completely remove the tension.

But it helped.

*.*.*.*.*.*

"Hello, Aunt Nettie." Josiah swallowed, surprised by the relief he felt at seeing her, looking much the same as she used to, hair grayer and face more lined, but spry and tough looking like always, and, most importantly, alive and whole.

"Oh my word, look at you. You look so much like your Daddy." Nettie was not one for overdone displays of affection, but it had been seventeen years since she had seen her nephew, and she allowed herself to fuss for just a second, pulling him down so she could see him better, running her hands over his shoulders and tutting at the hint of gray she could see starting in his hair. Satisfied that he was whole and well she pulled away and narrowed her eyes at him, "Now you listen to me and you listen good, Josiah Ramon Sanchez. I don't care where in the world you make your home, but don't you ever leave us to worry like that again, you hear me?"

Feeling himself flush, Josiah said quietly, "Believe it or not, I learned my lesson, a couple times over."

Nettie's eyes filled with tears for just a moment, her hand reaching out to clasp his, and in the next instant she had blinked them away and was shooing him toward the table, grinning tremulously saying, "You better not, when you ran off when you were a teenager I told you when me and your Mama Clara found you, I'd paddle your behind if you did something like that again, and you know, I ought to."

Josiah chuckled, grateful that she was lightening the mood, "Think I might be a little big for that now."

"You just try me."

*.*.*.*.*.*

The first round of snippy, snarky, muttered just under the breath comments didn't bother Josiah, not even when it seemed they must have been shooting out at least one a minute, he just did his best to ignore them.

That he hadn't forced his way into his brothers' company, that he'd been asked to come along on this walk, made it a little harder to take though. Josiah wasn't a fool, he knew how angry Nathan was at him, that even without having to deal with Daddy's death this would have been hard for the younger man, and that he had every right to that anger. It still stung, was starting to irritate him more than a little and finally, after the third sulky silence from Nate, Buck doing his best to hold up all three ends of the conversation, talking about the repairs that would need to be done to the outbuildings before winter, was interrupted by a mumbled, "Don't know why you're bothering, ain't like he cares about none of this.", he couldn't ignore it.

Unable to help it anymore, he turned and growled out, "That isn't true, and I really don't appreciate you talking to me like that." The look he got back froze him where he stood. He'd been wrong. He'd had no idea how angry Nathan was.

"You don't appreciate me talking to you like that?" Nathan laughed and it was bitter and painful and it hurt to hear it come out of his little brother's mouth, who had been so innocent when he left. It shocked him, knocked down his defenses, the rest of Nathan's words smashing into him like a battering ram, his temper draining from him much faster than it had built. "I didn't appreciate your cell phone suddenly not working one day, and not knowing why. I didn't appreciate that all my letters just got returned, when you'd always left a forwarding address before. Hell, Josiah you didn't answer your emails or log on to IM, and you and I used to talk nearly every night. You know you were supposed to come home? That weekend that your cell phone shut off, and you just dropped off the face of the earth, do you remember that?" Josiah nodded, not trusting himself to speak. "You remember why Josiah?" He nodded again. "Can't even say it, can you?" Nathan's eyes accused him of being a coward, and he hated it, but for this at least, facing what he'd done to a little boy who'd looked at him like he made the sun shine, he couldn't deny it. "It was a real great tenth birthday present, spending a couple of years wondering whether my big brother was dead or alive. Wondering if I'd done something to make him leave. Thanks for that."

Josiah's mouth fell open in horror, "If you'd...God, Nathan, no! It had nothing to do with you." He stepped forward, trying to hug Nathan, or at least get him to listen for a minute, but he took a huge step back, putting up his hands as though warding Josiah off.

"Don't-just don't." Josiah froze, realizing he'd overstepped his bounds again, and waited for Nathan to make the next move. "I know that now-but I was ten. You weren't just my big brother, or even just my best friend-you were my hero. Probably was supposed to be Daddy, but as much as I loved him it wasn't-it was you. And then you just disappeared. You were just gone."

"Nathan, I don't have a way to apologize enough or explain away my leaving, not in anyway that's good enough, but little brother, I am so, so, sorry I hurt you like that."

"That makes it better, huh? That now that you can't run away from the pain and damage you caused, that once it was staring you in the face, it made you feel guilty? That just makes everything just fine, right?" Nathan shook his head in disgust, turning away to continue down the path, "Good for you for being sorry, Josiah. Don't know what difference it makes now. Next time you decide to come around, just keep your apologies. I don't want them. See ya."

Josiah stared at Nathan's retreating back, guilty, angry, and hurt, "Well, I know he doesn't want me here."

Buck sighed, frustrated, "Dang it, Josiah, that ain't true, he's just..."

"Just what? He all but told me to go!" He didn't yell it, but it was clear the large man was controlling his temper by a thread. Buck, who had never been scared of his brother, was not impressed and right about now he was getting upset too.

"It ever occurred to you that angry as he is, he's more scared?" Josiah opened his mouth, and Buck pointed at him, suddenly furious, "Don't you dare ask why, 'Siah! You know why! Nathan just told you why! You think it's just him? You think it's just him you left? Where in the goddamned blue blazes have you been, huh? For seventeen years! With no letter, no picture, sometimes no knowing whether you were dead or alive! You know how that feels? Do you!? And you, you come back and don't even talk about it. Don't say a damn word. I don't care what problems you had with Daddy, you don't do that to your family!" He pulled his hat off his head and dashed it to the ground in anger, stepping up close to Josiah, getting right in his brother's face, "You want to know what's wrong with Nathan? He doesn't want you to go, Josiah! That boy is damn well terrified that you will. Maybe for another seventeen years. Maybe forever." Buck's chin quivered for just a second, and Josiah knew that if he grabbed his brother up in a hug right then that he'd accept it, but he hesitated and missed his chance. By the time he stepped forward Buck was scooping his hat off the ground and jamming it on his head, whirling away from Josiah and back towards the long dirt path to the farmhouse. Josiah stood there for a long moment, looking back and forth between the two opposite paths his brothers had taken before letting out a long low sigh and looking up to the heavens.

"I suppose no one said second chances had to be easy, did they?" Josiah chuckled dishearteningly. It was only what he deserved. He had hurt his brothers terribly in his stand-off with his father. More than he had hurt himself, and Josiah had realized since Daddy had gone just what he had lost. And for what had he given them up?

In the end his father had been right anyway. With Mama gone the best place for Hannah had been in a group home that specialized in the care of autistic children, and Josiah had not wanted to hear it. A seven year old child who was scared of strangers being sent to live with them? The very idea had horrified Josiah, infuriated him-Hannah had gone through enough, Josiah had had a hard enough time understanding what was happening to their mother, Hannah hadn't had a chance. It didn't change the fact that it had been the best option. Even with his naivety in believing that his grandfather was not cruel to Hannah as he had been to Josiah, that he would continue to ignore her as he always had, even with the caretaker Josiah paid for living with them, he still should have known better. He hadn't and Hannah had been the one to suffer for it.

He'd just wanted Daddy to be her father, the way he was Josiah's, really. In a way, when he'd offered to help have her placed it had been the closest he had come to doing so, but it just hadn't been enough for Josiah. Josiah knew his father hadn't known what to do, hadn't known how to connect with Hannah, and that with the distance between them Hannah might have never grown comfortable with him. But he could have tried. Josiah was doing his best to forgive his father for that one fatal flaw, but it was hard when he could not, even now, understand why. He knew his mother hadn't helped, hadn't wanted Mama Clara or Emilio to know what she and Linc had done any more than Daddy had, had if anything been the real source behind the secrecy. As the secret grew, as they always did, Daddy had been trapped in it just as Josiah had been, unable to confess without risking a hell of a lot.

But it was Linc who had stayed away from his daughter. Who'd left when Hannah had gotten scared when he tried to hug her and hid under her bed, screaming. Josiah'd heard him tell Mama he felt like he was tormenting her, and the anguish that had been in his voice when he said it-maybe he should have understood, but he couldn't.

Before that Josiah had thought of his father as someone who did what was right even when it was hard, and if he were honest, that disillusionment was nearly as hard to forgive as anything else.

To ask him to keep their sister a secret from his brothers? To only every refer to Hannah as his sister, his Mama's daughter, to keep her parentage even from Mama Clara? It had been the most unfair thing either of his parents had ever asked of him, and he still couldn't understand the choices they'd made. Still didn't agree with them.

In the end, none of that should have mattered. Even with the mess things had been, with his father not being a proper part of Hannah's life, even with the rage he'd felt over it, he should have damn well taken the offered help.

Then for years he'd blamed the man for his own failing, his own stubbornness. At the exact moment when he should have seen that his father had been right, or at least that he, Josiah had been wrong-when the best choice was moving a small child in with strangers no one was really right-was when he had decided his father's actions were unforgivable. Saw what had happened to his sister and thought that if his father had taken in his daughter when her mother grew too ill to care for her it never would have happened. That was true. But if Josiah hadn't fought against his father, hadn't told the man he had no right to suggest such things, it never would have happened either. That was also true.

Hannah never would have been there, for a bitter old man to turn more and more against, while the caretaker Josiah paid for lined their pockets and said nothing.

Josiah would not lie to himself about that. Not anymore. He still felt guilty, was still angry with himself and probably always would be. He was still angry with his father too. It was just somehow over the years that anger had grown less important to him, less important compared to the part that missed his father. Josiah had finally come to understand something that some never learn-forgiveness had nothing to do with it being deserved or not, and everything to do with it being needed.

His brothers had had nothing to do with any of it. They had been innocents, just as Hannah had been, and they had suffered for his ignorance as well. Josiah found a rock to lean against and stared up at the sky for a long time, trying to find peace in his dark thoughts, hampered by the belief that he did not really deserve it. Finally, just as he was planning to move on, thinking he should head up the path, Nathan, still looking upset, came back down towards him. He halted in surprise when he saw Josiah, confusion crossing his face.

"You waited for me?"

"I was just about to head after you."

"Oh." Nathan came and leaned against the rock next to him, and Josiah hoped that meant they were alright now, at least enough to talk. For someone who had memorized many sermons on the importance of forgiveness, who had been thinking on its virtues for the last half-hour, he had a very hard time asking for it himself. Still, all he could do was try.

"I won't disappear again, won't abandon the family. Even if I don't stay on the ranch, or in town. I'm not going to leave again, brother. Not like that. I promise."

There was a sharp intake of breath besides him, then Nathan spoke up, voice tight. "You made me that promise last time you came back, too. Only took you a few years to break it." Josiah didn't know what to say, because Nathan was right. He had. Nathan moved fluidly away from the stone, swiveling so that he was standing square in front of Josiah, leaning in. "Don't do it again. Next time I won't forgive you." Then he was striding up the path to the house, not looking back. Josiah took the time to look at the sky and murmur a quick prayer.

"Thank you Lord, for a brother who has more mercy than I perhaps deserve." Then he jogged up the path to Nathan, falling into step with him.