A/N: Here is the next chapter folks, almost broke it in two, but hey you guys don't mind reading 11,000+ words for fun right? I'm not entirely happy with all of it, but then again I'm never entirely happy with my writing until it's set for a day or two, so hopefully it passes muster.
Warning: This fic was already verging on a M rating, and this chapter definitely pushes it there, domestic abuse is both described and discussed, and just in general this chapter deals with some pretty heavy themes.
Shout-out to the reviewers: Guest (Thank you :) JD is both very independent and very young, and it sounds like that came across. Alfred is going to be a reoccurring nemesis for awhile, and he will get his just desserts, possibly more than once) heilwig2002yahoo (Thanks, I'm glad you enjoyed it. JD is trying hard, and for him at least it's a pretty natural fit.) Leandra Falconwing (Chris is hanging in there, at least partially because there are so many people he feels the need to be a leader for, he stumbles a couple times, but he picks himself up again:). Lol, poor Nathan dealing with all that well-intentioned advice, that scene was fun to write. My take is, Nathan, as much as he loves Buck, watched him with his girls and decided that was the exact opposite of what he wanted, and is thoroughly happy with his decision. JD is going to be fun, he's connecting too and forming an identity based around family at an age when most people are pushing their families away and forming an individualized identity separate from others, and combine that with his independence and as you said just not being used to having other do things for him, and he may have some trouble adjusting. Thanks for your detailed review) Larafrank (Thank you :) Josiah is still feeling his way around, seeing how the dynamic has changed between them all over the years, and his instinct is to take charge, but he also knows he's not the leader, not quite. *hugs JD* Buck and JD are just meant to be brothers, even in the universes where they aren't, they are, lol) Terry (Thank you very much! I hope you continue to find it gorgeous.) Lunaz (Thank you, I wanted to have him come into town on the bus, kind of how he comes into town on the stage in the first episode, but him wandering into the Saloon just sort of happened :)) sibylla29 (Thank you, the distinctive personalities the creators of the seven gave us to work with definitely helps, but it's nice to know they aren't running together. JD is definitely having an easier time of it it than I anticipate for Vin and Ezra, and yes he wants to fit in badly) ChrisW (Thank you :), and yes both Ezra and Vin will wind up having a bumpier time of it.) Busygirl (Thank you, I've been trying to mold their backgrounds to be as much like the TV show as possible, while making the changes necessary for the modern world and a brother's AU, and it's nice to have it acknowledged :) And yes, the more heads we add to the bunch the more interesting it should get.)
*.*.*.*.*.*
Ezra sat the small dog back in his passenger seat after they'd both stretched their legs and Bogart had quite gleefully marked every scraggly tree and patch of grass he could find around the edge of the parking lot, "Alright Bogey, stay, that's a good boy." While he was still sore and moving stiffly, all day in the car yesterday and today not helping matters, Ezra was feeling well enough, healing fast enough, that the ribs he'd feared cracked could only be bruised. He turned and headed for the convenience store, glad that he'd filled his tank earlier that evening, as the gas prices at this middle of nowhere place, the only thing on this stretch of highway but empty fields, desert and the occasional farm or ranch house, until you hit Four Corners, which, according to his directions, was still twenty miles away, were ludicrous. Ten cents higher than where he'd stopped, twelve if you were paying with card, and he had to admit it was clever, both travelers and locals probably often had no choice but to pay the exorbitant price.
Hoping the bottled water wasn't equally overpriced, Ezra stepped into the rather dingy concrete building, one of the fluorescent lights flickering in an obnoxious manner, the other dimmer than it should be. Charming. He hurriedly found the water, ignoring the growling of his stomach as he was not eating anything that had been in this building, even in a sealed package. Most of it seemed to have a layer of dust, confirming that the majority of the customers felt similarly. On his way out, having confirmed with the gentleman behind the counter that unless he went off the highway into town all his dining options were behind him, he carried water and a small bag of dog treats, Bogart not being nearly as picky as he was. Oh well, it was not as though waiting until he was in town, not really far away at all now, would cause him to expire from hunger. Perhaps he would see how the room service in his hotel was, a small luxury of that type was due him after the trial he'd underg-
No. Ezra stared, wide-eyed, at the broad shoulders across the parking lot from him. No, it couldn't be him. He'd been so careful. Had told no one about where he was going. He had acquired more than adequate cash funds before he left the city to ensure there would be no credit card purchases, nothing that could leave a trail. Alfred should not have been able to find him, he had booked his hotel room under a false identity Ezra had never revealed to the man.
For a split second he had the wildly absurd thought the man had been able to track him simply because he was him, that no matter where he went Alfred would find him, that there was no getting away.
But no. Alfred was a man, just like any other. He had no real power over Ezra, no claim that drew him to him. He must have left a clue, something the other man could track.
Alfred's back was to him now, and he either hadn't seen the Jaguar yet or had already passed it. If he made his way there as quickly as he could, he might be able to drive away before he saw him. Slowly, but not too slowly, as that would draw attention also, he began making his way to the parking lot, keeping an eye on Alfred while doing his best to avoid looking directly at him. It would do no good to have the bastard sense his gaze.
He made it around the side of the store, made it halfway to the Jag, when he heard him, the sounds of his expensive leather soles, shoes Ezra had bought for the undeserving schmuck, slapping against the pavement, fast and angry. Knowing running would do no good, he was still too far from his car, and not wanting to give him the satisfaction anyway, he turned to face him, refusing to flinch as the red visage, contorted in fury bore down on him. Ezra said nothing, just glared, refused to say anything that Alfred would treat as an excuse, as though justification was required for his actions. "Did you really think I wouldn't find you? Did you really think I would just let you leave? You're mine Ezra, and clearly I need to remind you of that."
"What Ah do and where Ah go are nothing to do with you any longer, and Ah belong to no one. It's over Alfred and there is nothing you can do about it."
"No!" It was screamed in his face, Alfred stepping closer and as much as Ezra didn't want to show fear, didn't want to bow, he found himself back pedaling against his will, body taking over where his mind wouldn't work. "You're mine. I love you, and I know you love me, and I'm going to make you remember."
As scared as he was, Ezra now found himself angry, hands balling into fists at his sides. "No. Ah used to love you, but you destroyed that. And you never loved me, not as anything more than a favorite plaything that could be used as a punching bag when you grew tired of it, like a spoiled child who stomps on his teddy bear while throwing a fit. Ah am not your teddy bear or your punching bag-", Alfred grabbed him by both shoulders in a vice grip, and next thing Ezra knew he was forcing his mouth onto his, forcing his tongue into his mouth, and for a split second he was frozen as he realized what Alfred likely meant by reminding him. Of all the abominable things the man had done to him, he'd never forced himself on him. Part of him had known, towards the end, that refusing him might be dangerous, but it had never gone that far, he hadn't tested it. He had to get away now. Ezra bit down on Alfred's tongue, hard enough that warm, red blood flowed into his mouth, and stomped down on the top of his foot, Alfred pulling away, his grip faltering, and Ezra spat the mouthful of blood into his eyes, tearing out of his hold and running as fast as he could, bruised ribs no match for the adrenaline coursing through him.
He should have run to his car.
He should have run to the front of the store.
He should not have run towards the back, but by the time he realized where he was headed it was too late. If he changed directions, he'd be caught. All he could do was keep running.
He tripped, over something, a crack in the pavement, maybe, didn't fall, but he might as well have, it slowed him down and a hand tangled in the back of his shirt, a sob of frustration and terror forcing its way out of him as he was yanked backwards, tossed like a rag doll into the concrete wall of the gas station, Alfred pinning him there.
He should not have run towards the back.
*.*.*.*.*.*
Vin stretched, putting his hands to the small of his back and pressing, the pop-pop-pop noise music to his ears, enjoying the night air and chance to move around after all day in his truck. Ko'Je would be on him about damaging his back more than it already was, but it was Ko'Je who insisted he come to this farce, so Vin didn't much care what he had to say right now.
To be fair, when he'd started this trip he'd been kind of grateful to his Pa for all but making him go, but after three different ferry rides and four days driving cross-country in his ancient and rickety truck as the fast food wrappers built around him almost as fast as his nerves Vin was changing his tune. What the hell did he need with whatever Linc Larabee had left him in his will? Whatever it was, he'd gotten along just fine without it so far.
Right now, though, all he was worried about was taking a leak, grabbing some snacks and then deciding whether he needed to find a place to crash or if he was good to keep driving. He didn't have that much farther to go, but he hadn't got much sleep last night, mind running like crazy while he lay in the back of the pick-up staring up at the stars. Vin went in to the gas station and got the bathroom key, after waiting for the damn cashier to get off the phone with his girlfriend or whatever the hell he was doing and actually acknowledge he was there.
"Oh, for fuck's sake." The bathroom was tiny, smelly and disgusting even by gas station bathroom standards, the acrid smell of piss about enough to turn his stomach. He should of just used a tree. Trying not to touch anything, Vin finished and left the bathroom as quickly as he could. He was about to head back around to the front of the building when he heard it. The noise of scuffling feet and shoving, rising protests and the crack of a hand hitting flesh. Hard. Vin edged along the side of the building and around the corner cautiously, hackles rising as he saw a small man held up against a wall by a much larger one. Vin hated bullies. The hand cracked down again and the smaller man's head lolled towards him, into the pool of light left by the one unbroken fixture on the back of the building and Vin started moving closer, stomach sinking as he got a good look at the face. It was a fucking teenager, no older than eighteen or nineteen at the most, he'd bet. Chanu's age. He looked goddamn terrified. When the hand that had just smacked the kid started to stroke down his neck to his chest, he thought he was going to be sick. Vin had seen more than enough, marching forward intending to kick some ass, but before he could do anything the kid, smirked, outright smirked, with blood and saliva and all dripping down his chin, and flung a taunt at the jerk holding him against the wall.
"Alfred, Ah have told you several times now, Ah am no longah desirous of your company, and certainly not of your bed, no matter what delusions you may have going on in that empty orifice that makes up your rather unfortunate cranium. Let me go!" Vin, almost there now, smirked as the younger man did his level best to connect his knee to his-ex-boyfriends?-crotch, even though it was clear the move was made as much out of desperation as anything. He didn't make it, but he did smash into his inner thigh pretty hard, making him stagger and lose his hold on the kid, falling back half a step and giving Vin a great opportunity to crack him in the face and then slam his head back into the dumpster behind him. Guy was a giant, if Vin didn't take him out quick he was gonna have a bad night. Still, he'd been getting into fights since he could walk on the Rez, and after that with the kids in his foster homes or at school, and he'd been small for his age most of his life. Vin was damn good at fighting people bigger than him. Hell, give him two or three of them and he was even better.
When the man was firmly unconscious, Vin testing it with a kick to the ribs that barely made him twitch, he put his hand on the dumpster, catching his breath and holding his hand to his side, where a solid punch had landed. Finally he looked up at the slightly wide-eyed kid, who was staring at him like he was an alien, looked down at the thug on the ground, and back up at the kid. "Ya know, I think ya can do better."
To his surprise after another moment of staring, the younger man's lips twitched, and then a laugh that sounded just a little hysterical ripped its way out of his mouth, one hand moving towards his middle before he seemed to think better of it, "Ah assure you, sir, Ah agree." He tried to take a step away from the wall and almost doubled over, Vin taking a half step forward and putting out his hands, worried he was going to fall.
"Ya gonna be okay?"
"Ah always am." He looked up at him, smiling, though it looked painful, and nodded in thanks, "You have mah gratitude, truly. Ah doubt he would have ceased on his own."
"Ya want me t' call an ambulance, or the cops-"
"No!" Vin startled at the shout, staring at the boy, "No, that will be quite alright, thank you."
Vin wondered if the boy was even younger than he looked, a runaway, maybe, and was kind of tempted to kick the jerk lying on the ground again. "Okay. Okay. Can' say I mind not involvin' the cops myself. I'se Vin Tanner."
"Ezra Standish." Ezra shifted slightly and bit back the cry of pain, certain now that at least one rib had moved from bruised to cracked. "Thank you again."
"No problem. Ye're ribs messed up?"
Ezra hesitated. It was obvious they were, so to deny it would be pointless. Yet, he had already put this stranger out enough. To ask more of him would be to court an obligation. "A mite sore, but Ah will be fine."
"Uh-huh." Ezra could see that this Vin was not convinced, and as grateful as he was to him he just wanted to get in his car and drive away before he did something foolish, like cry all over himself in front of a stranger, or kick Alfred's ribs until they felt like his. Not that he had any real illusions that he could manage the latter at the moment. "Lemme help ya into the store at least, get some ice for yer cheek."
Well...his car was closer, but he was likely to need ace bandages and some painkillers, and it would be easier with this Mr. Tanner's help. But why was he offering? Ezra eyed the man, perhaps a bit more obviously than he usually would, wondering which of the possible intentions that were popping into his head fit him. Only, somehow, he didn't look the sort. Which was confusing, because in Ezra's experience everyone was the sort.
Still, he thought he could make this work. "Perhaps you could help me to mah vehicle?"
"Alright, where's it at?"
Ezra told him it was in the side parking lot, and found himself grateful for the other man's gentleness as he guided him in that direction. Without him he wasn't sure he would have made it. It took forever and a day, but eventually they got to the Jaguar, his rescuer letting out a low whistle when he saw it, "Now, that's a nice lookin' car." Ezra couldn't help but grin, and then regretted it as the skin around his swollen cheek and split lip was pulled.
"It was a twentieth birthday present from mah Mothah last year." Vin helped Ezra into the vehicle, looking dubiously down at him, and Ezra hoped he would not make a fuss about letting him drive away. He started looking around the car, quietly calling, "Bogey, Bogart, come here boy!" As he called one of his hands went to his side, ribs jarring, and he had to stop himself from pressing down, having already learned that was not wise. Clearly, raising his voice was not a prudent idea, but Bogart always came when he called, and Ezra waited for his nose to stick out from under the seat, or for him to scramble with his little legs from the back to the front...only he didn't. Trying not to panic, Ezra looked around for the dog again, not sure what he would do if something had happened to him. Lord, if Alfred had harmed him in any way Ezra would march over and finish the job Mr. Tanner had started, he swore he would.
"Hey little fella, it's okay." Turning his head, he saw that Mr. Tanner had disappeared from view, but as his voice was still coming from beside him Ezra realized he must have seen Bogart under the car and he sagged, his relief all but palatable. "Ye're alright, c'mon out now." His rescuer made soothing little sounds at the dog, praising him as he crawled out from under the car, "There's a good boy, that's right. Hey Ezra, can I give 'im a piece of jerky?"
"You shall have a friend for life if you do, Mistah Tannah. Not too large, please." There was a chuckle and then the sound of Bogart making a happy snuffling noise as he gobbled up his treat, and Vin was straightening up with Bogart in his arms, still trembling a bit from his scare, but with the way his body was pressed back into the man's chest, he wasn't scared of Vin at all. Ezra supposed he must have heard Alfred's voice, or smelled him, and hid under the car.
"Want me t' put 'im in the passenger seat?" Mr. Tanner was tactful in his own way, not mentioning that Ezra would be hard pressed to reach up and take Bogart himself, or that just having him placed in his lap would likely be painful, and Ezra found himself extraordinarily thankful for the man's sensitivity.
"Thank you, Ah'd be much obliged." He tossed him a smile as he walked around the front of the car and sat the dog down gently, giving him a scratch around the ears and getting an enthusiastic lick across his hand as thanks.
"There ya go, back where ya belong." He grinned at Ezra, "He's a good dog."
"He is a loyal and steadfast companion." Wincing slightly he reached over and rubbed his palm around Bogey's head, the boston terrier arching up into it. "Aren't you, love?" Mister Tanner was still hovering at the door, and hoping to staunch anymore suggestions that he needed medical attention, Ezra decided it was time to request his kindness a last time. "Do you think, Mistah Tannah, Ah could prevail on you for one more favor?" At the man's nod Ezra shifted, reaching into his back pocket, Vin noticeably wincing at the muffled groan of pain he couldn't hide, pulling out his wallet and extracting a bill from it, dropping the wallet into the cup holder next to him when he was done, "Could you acquire some ace bandages, ibuprofen and a few ice packs for me?"
"'Course, it's not a problem." Vin took the bill, tucking it into his pocket, and, unlike he expected, Ezra had no fear that he would simply take off with it.
"Ah also dropped a bag with watah and some treats for Bogey, Ah'm not sure where, but-"
"I'll look around fer 'em, no problem."
"Thank you again."
"Told ya, it ain't a problem." As the older man walked towards the store entrance Ezra leaned back in his seat, not daring to truly relax-what if Alfred woke up?-, but trying to rest a bit before Mr. Tanner got back. Bogart climbed over so he was half on the seat next to him and half on his leg, and he slid his hand over so it was laying on the warm body, letting his eyes slide shut as a headache washed over him.
Lord, he'd convinced himself it was over, that he'd gotten away.
He wasn't sure it would ever be over now...the look in Alfred's eyes. Ezra fought a shudder, the word's 'You're mine' repeating in his ears. Bogey whined, squirming so he was even more on Ezra's lap, and Ezra jumped on the distraction, idly scratched his head as he fussed over the little dog, not as soothed by feeling of the short fur, somehow smooth and bristly at the same time, as he usually was.
*.*.*.*.*.*
Vin acted casual as he walked into the store and dropped the bathroom key on the front counter, ignoring the clerk's grumble of, "Took you long enough." Whatever, he didn't care if the guy decided he'd been jerking off or shooting up in the bathroom, just as long as he didn't go around back for a good long while. He knew enough about the justice system to know that even if it had been defense of a teenage kid-Vin wasn't sure he believed that Ezra could have turned twenty a year ago, thought it more likely he just hadn't wanted to admit how young he was to a stranger when he was already vulnerable as hell-he'd likely suffer some pretty steep consequences if caught. Luckily, he'd noticed all the cameras on the outside of the building had been shot out, probably by kids with BB guns way out here, or maybe just rocks and a slingshot. Heading down the aisle with medical and bathroom stuff Vin grabbed a small bottle of ibuprofen, checking for an expiration date on second thought. He examined the different types of bandage wraps for a second, before grabbing a box. A thorough search of the aisle didn't help him find the cold packs, and he headed up to the front of it, calling out to the clerk.
"Hey, do ya have any of 'em instant ice packs, ya know the kind ya squeeze t' make 'em cold?" The man blinked back at him, like he had no idea what Vin was talking about, taking a long moment to answer.
"I think there's some gel packs on the shelf, and there's ice in the freezer."
"I need somethin' gets cold on it's own, and was hopin' fer somethin' that wouldn't melt."
"Sorry, pretty sure we don't have anything like that." He looked more bored than sorry, but Vin just nodded at him, before going to grab his snacks. Remembering the kid had only gotten food for his dog, he grabbed a bag of trail mix figuring there would be something in the mix he would like, before finally heading to the freezer, hoping it wasn't all gigantic bags of ice, and cursing under his breath when he saw it was. Ezra couldn't put a five lb bag of ice on his face. Trying not to look too unhappy, because it really wasn't the clerk's fault they didn't carry what he needed, he headed back to the front and dumped the stuff on the counter, separating out the food from the stuff for Ezra.
"Need t' pay fer this stuff first." Wincing a little at the price of just some pills and bandages, he handed over Ezra's twenty, taking back the change and tucking it into his front pocket, then pulled out his wallet to pay for the food, picking up both bags and saying a quiet thank you to the clerk. Before he could turn away, the man held something out to him.
"Here, I found these in our first aid kit. Seemed like you need them." Surprised and grateful Vin reached out and took the two instant ice packs.
"Thank ya, that's really great of ya man." The guy just shrugged.
"It's cool."
Looking around the side parking lot he quickly found the discarded bag, nothing inside damaged, luckily. Ezra's eyes were closed as he was walking up, and he frowned, worried he had passed out, before they slowly opened and the younger man smiled at him, obviously in pain, "Hey, here's yer change," Ezra took it and sat it on top of his wallet in the cup holder, "and here's your other stuff," He leaned over, placing the bags on the seat next to Ezra, before leaning back and handing the ice packs directly to him. Ezra placed one on the worst of the bruising on his ribs, Vin's face blanching at the sight and he quickly smoothed it, having the feeling his fellow southerner's pride had taken all the sympathy he could handle. He thanked him again, and Vin accepted it, but hesitated, not feeling able to leave. "Look, are ya sure ya don't want t' go to the emergency room? There's a hospital about twelve miles down the road, if ya want I could follow behind, make sure ya get there okay."
"Ah appreciate the offah, Mr. Tannah, but there isn't a considerable amount a hospital can do for a bruised cheek or ribs that ah cannot perform mahself."
Vin stood considering him for a long moment, and could see that nothing he said was going to change his mind, "Yer a stubborn one, ain't ya? I got a little brother about yer age, he's a stubborn one too."
"Yes, well Ah am not your brothah, am Ah?"
There was a tenseness in the other man's face now that told Vin to tread lightly, to not be too serious, so, smiling, he said, "Hell, if ya were I can tell ya we'd be goin' to the doctor's whether ya liked it or not-, but ya ain't, like ya said, so I guess it's none a my business."
"Ah do truly appreciate all the help you've given me this evening, Ah-well, Ah likely would be in need of a hospital without your interference. It is not often a person goes so fah for a strangah."
Vin nodded, quietly saying, "Yer welcome," but made no move to say goodbye or walk away. He had something he wanted to say, even though he knew it wasn't his place, was even less his business. But he had to say it.
Vin had had a foster mom when he was ten and eleven who was a real good lady, he'd called her Miss Dee, though she would have let him call her Mom. One of the few he'd had who actually liked kids, and had an idea about how to deal with difficult ones, like he knew he'd been. Her husband Harold had been pretty decent, a distant, quiet man, who spent most of the attention he had for others on his wife, but was always gentle and calm when he did talk to Vin. Sometimes when Vin and his little foster sister Mila were drawing or doing their homework at the table he'd see him looking over and smiling at them, almost like he was proud. When he'd joined the basketball team Harold had screwed an old beat-up hoop with a torn net to the top of the garage, bought him a basketball of his own, and Vin hadn't known a thing about it until he'd climbed off the school bus and seen the hoop, the ball laying loose underneath it for him to find. A couple times, he'd even played with him.
Then Harold had lost his job, and started drinking and everything changed. At first he just moped around drunk, snarling at the wife he'd never been anything but loving to, but when she'd started pushing him to get help he'd started slapping her around. He'd stop drinking for a few days sometimes-the first time he'd slapped her he'd stayed sober for two weeks after-and would say he was going to get treatment, but he'd just start drinking again. When Miss Dee had come home from the store to see him holding Mila by her arm and shaking her, Vin sprawled on the floor where he'd been shoved when he tried to pull her away from him, she'd gotten them away from him and called the police herself. CPS took them, he had no idea where Mila had wound up, she'd been his sister for two years, but no one would tell him anything, and Vin had wound up the youngest and smallest boy in his first group home.
He'd tried to look Miss Dee up a few years ago, because while the last six months hadn't been great, she'd treated him the way no one had since he'd been taken from Uncle Vincent, not until he'd met Ko'Je. Like family. Like her son.
Harold had killed her. Shot her and then killed himself, about two years after he'd left their home.
"Mistah Tannah? Are you quite alright?" Ezra looked concerned for him, which seemed kind of backwards, and Vin sighed softly, running a hand over his hair.
"Look, I know ya don't really know me, but can I ask somethin' of ya?" A wariness immediately came over Ezra's face, but he nodded, if reluctantly. "Promise me ya won't ever go back t' that scumbag." The wariness had mostly left his face, but the younger man looked shocked and somewhat uncomfortable, speaking hastily.
"Ah have no intention of evah even seeing him again, Ah can assure you, Mr. Tannah."
"That a promise?" Vin looked at him seriously, and finally he nodded at him.
"Ah suppose it is, at that."
"I meant it when I said ya could do better." Ezra looked away, blinking, and Vin dropped his eyes to the ground for a few seconds, giving him time to collect himself, and when he looked up Ezra was opening the bottle of ibuprofen and then his bottle of water, popping a few pills and taking a long drink. By the time he looked back up at Vin he was perfectly calm, and smiling slightly.
"Ah think fate mah agree with you Mistah Tannah," He turned his keys as he spoke, starting the engine and shifting into reverse, "as around the time Ah started to seriously consider leaving him a missive from a dead man arrived and gave me both motivation to leave and a destination to go to, if temporarily, and even if it is a tiny ranching town called Four Corners of all things." He flashed a grin at Vin, calling one last thank you as he started backing out the car, gone before he'd had time to fully understand what the kid's word's meant.
'A missive from a dead man' was sending Ezra to Four Corners. Slowly a smile began to cross his face as Vin realized that that could only mean one thing. Ezra was one of his brothers. Then it vanished as he remembered just how he'd found him. Turning around to face the back of the store and the dumpster he'd left the shithead passed out next to, Vin contemplated whether he should go have another word or two with the man. If he was still unconscious he could look in his wallet, get his name and address, any other information that could come in handy.
He shouldn't though, that was how you got caught, and if he wound up in jail during the will reading that would kind of ruin everything, would certainly keep him from making sure Ezra was okay tomorrow. Slowly, still wishing he was walking the opposite way, Vin made his way to his truck and climbed in, resting his head back against the ripped leather seat for a moment before he slid the key in the ignition and started it.
*.*.*.*.*.*
Josiah stared up at his bedroom ceiling, the stars he'd pasted there a good twenty-five years ago now winking down at him, a handful still faintly glowing in the dark, his stomach rolling. It wasn't that late, just now eight, but with the will reading tomorrow no one had questioned it when he'd begged off the movie the others were watching, claiming an upset stomach that had become less of a lie as he lay there. John Daniel had been disappointed, though he'd tried to hide it, he'd have to find someway to make it up to him.
Josiah's mind was stuck on the end of his conversation with his uncle, before they'd gone back up to his office, Orin's words playing over in his head.
"I didn't say anything yet because I wanted to tell you first, but your sister is mentioned in your father's will, as his child. I'll tell your brothers when we go back upstairs-"
Josiah had told him no. That it was too much in one day, and he would tell them himself tomorrow. Uncle Orin hadn't like it much, but he'd gone along with Josiah's wishes.
It should make him happy, at least it should feel like justice, and it did, almost, only it was one more thing, one more decision on Josiah's shoulders. Did he tell his brothers himself or wait for it to be revealed? He was wishing now he had just let Uncle Orin tell them, because at least it would be over with.
It had been his father's responsibility, should have been him who told them, and there was something about letting it be his words that his brothers learned about Hannah from that felt right to Josiah, if in a sort of twisted way. But this had been hard enough on them, and it wasn't fair to have that sort of potential explosion, especially for the two brothers who hadn't met any of them yet, on such an important day, an important day that was already full of potential explosions.
Before JD had arrived he'd made the first step, told them all yesterday that when Buck got back from the saloon he wanted to talk to them about something important, but in the excitement that had followed it had been forgotten.
He needed to visit Hannah, it had been over a month and she'd be wondering when he was coming soon. If his father's visits had been as extensive as Uncle Orin had implied, if he'd actually built a relationship with her...Hannah didn't do well with change, with things not being the way she expected. A few years ago Josiah had been delayed for an expected visit, his plane had been grounded due to a storm, and it had taken two days before she'd interacted with him at all, furious with him for not being there when he said he would.
It had been years before she quit asking for Mama, unable to understand where she was, or why she couldn't be with her. Telling her their mother was in heaven, a better place, hadn't made any sense to Hannah.
Finally in a moment of grief and frustration, when she'd asked for her again, no matter how many times Josiah had tried to explain, he'd told her that she was dead, that being dead meant her heart had stopped beating and she didn't breath anymore, that she wasn't in her body.
Hannah had stared at him, and then she'd wailed, wailed and wailed and wailed, and he'd been so sorry, and nothing he could do could get her to stop. Usually Josiah was one of the few people Hannah would let comfort her, but she hadn't wanted him then, hadn't wanted him to touch her.
But she'd understood. She'd quit asking.
He didn't want to have to tell her again.
Josiah closed his eyes, tried to will himself to sleep, but it wouldn't come, even when he rolled over and buried his face in the pillow. When the knock came at his door, two sharp raps that he knew was Chris, he was grateful for the distraction, though he had a feeling the conversation was going to be less than pleasant. He rolled over and sat up in bed, flipping on the lamp on his nightstand. "Come in." Chris walked in, shutting the door behind him, and, without a word, walked over to grab Josiah's desk chair, pulling it towards his bed and sitting on it with the back facing Josiah, Chris's hands folded together on the top.
"You had something important to tell us." It was a statement not a question, but Chris was clearly still expecting an answer. Josiah hesitated, not sure about this. It would certainly be easier to tell just Chris rather than all three of them, but it hadn't escaped Josiah that Chris was pretty fragile right now, that Daddy's death was already injury on top of injury, and he didn't want to hurt him. "Josiah."
"I don't want you to hate him." He hadn't meant to say that, the words had just tumbled out of his lips unbidden.
Chris just nodded, "So it's about why you left then. I thought so."
"Chris..."
"Josiah." He was looking solidly back at him, and Josiah knew very well that his stubborn little brother wasn't going anywhere, not until he got it out of him. It was time for the secrecy to end anyway, Josiah knew that, he just didn't know how to say it. Only...he leaned over and grabbed a silver framed photo off his nightstand, handing it to Chris.
"Look at that."
"It's you and your sister Hannah, ain't it? When you were kids." Chris's face was thoughtful, a little wary, as though he already had an idea of what was coming, or at least knew he wasn't going to like it.
"Look at her eyes, Chris." There was a long pause, Chris's hand slowly tightening on the frame as he stared.
"That son-of-a-bitch."
"Don't Chris. Please, just don't."
"I know how old she was when your Momma died. He might not have known about Vincent but he knew about her. Can't really think of a more fitting word." His hand tightened on the picture frame again, Josiah reaching out and taking it from him before the glass could break. "God, no wonder you left! I don't know how the hell you stayed so long!"
"She's autistic, Chris, a-
"That makes it worse, not better!" Chris was on his feet now, pacing the short distance between the desk and the bed.
"Dammit, would you shut-up and listen?" It was a roar, if a muted one, and Chris reluctantly, face still furious, faced him, expectant, and Josiah was suddenly not sure how to start, "Hell Chris...he didn't even know she was his until she was nearly a year old, and then there was Emilio, and he thought he was her father, Mama wanted him to be her father."
"But he knew."
"He knew. Insisted on a DNA test, actually, to prove she was his, not the other way around."
"What the hell happened? Why didn't she come here when your mother died? Mama-"
"Mama Clara didn't know, anymore than Emilio did."
Chris stared again, more looking through Josiah than at him, "Daddy kept her a secret. He made you keep her a secret."
"He didn't want to lose his wife by telling her he had a child with his ex. And my mother had just as much to do with it."
"Hell Josiah, I've had a wife and a child, and as much-as much as I loved Sarah," Chris paused for a second, lips pressed together tight, shaking his head hard, "Adam came first. He always came first."
"Daddy wanted to put her in a home for autistic children when my Mama couldn't take care of her anymore, and I fought him on it. I fought him hard. Hell, that's why I ran away." Josiah wasn't entirely sure why he was defending his father now, when he'd been so angry, "It would have been the right thing to do, I know that now, but...Chris, she was seven years old, and I just had to put our mother in a home. I couldn't...she was a baby."
"You were a seventeen year old kid Josiah, no older than JD. If Daddy had done what he was supposed to do it would have been him and Mama making those decisions-"
"Or maybe she would have left him when he told her, and taken Nathan, and we would have lost both of them. You would have lost your mother again." Chris shook his head no, but he didn't say anything. Maybe Chris was right. She might have stayed, because, for all the times Daddy apparently betrayed her, they were good together, had seemed so natural and right together. Whenever one had walked into the room the other had seemed to light up, Daddy had gotten her to relax, to play, and she'd kept him grounded, kept his head out of the clouds. Or, she might have stayed because Clara wouldn't have been able to leave Chris, the boy Josiah was sure she'd thought of as her oldest. But she might have left too, and sometimes he thought that had been the real reason he hadn't told her himself all those years, not any loyalty to Daddy, or fear of displeasing him and Mama. "I should have gone along with it, but because of me, Hannah wound up staying with Abuelo. Anything would have been better than that."
"Did he hurt her?" Chris had sunk back onto the chair, hands wrapping around the faded blue paint of the rungs.
"Yes." Josiah bowed his head, "He never had before, at least I don't think so. Hannah was always his favorite by far, at worst he would ignore her and storm away when he was in a mood-which is bad enough, really, when we're talking about a special needs child who would go into a meltdown and likely be miserable for the rest of the day. But after Mama...I don't know, it seems ridiculous to me that he didn't already know Hannah was Daddy's, but if he didn't know before he would have after. Daddy paid child support, and when I hired a caretaker he paid for a large chunk of that, and Abuelo would have seen where the money came from. He didn't...approve of children born out of wedlock."
"Did he hurt you?"
Josiah said nothing for a long moment, before finally speaking, "Sometimes. With Mama around I was generally fine."
"He alive?" Josiah had a sudden image of Chris fighting his grandfather how he'd looked the last time he'd seen him, sour, lined face, stooped back, cane that he used as much to whap people who annoyed him around the ankles as to help him walk, still armed with his best weapon, his razor sharp tongue. He thought the safe money was on Abuelo. "What the hell are you smiling at?"
"He'd be 89 by now, Chris, if he is. I quit giving a shit whether he was or not when my sister quit talking almost entirely for two years because of him. Haven't seen him since the trial." Chris sucked in a breath, and let it out slowly.
"Two years?" Josiah nodded. "He better be dead." He nodded again. There was a pause, and then quietly Chris said, "Where is she? Can I meet her?"
"She lives in a small group home with other autistic adults. And you can meet her, probably, eventually. Hannah often doesn't react well to strangers, especially strange men. She doesn't like change in general...Uncle Orin says Daddy's been going to visit her for years now...it's going to hurt her, that he's gone. I mean, I'm glad he went to see her, you don't know how glad, but..." He trailed off, shaking his head.
"Not an easy thing to tell someone." Josiah remembered that Chris had been the one to tell him, to have to pick up the phone and call, and felt a surge of gratitude, that after everything, he hadn't let him walk into it blind, that he'd been gentle in how he'd told him, while still reeling from it himself.
"No."
"You have to tell Nathan and Buck."
"Yeah. He mentions her in the will." Chris's eyebrow quirked, corners of his lips turning down.
"If I hadn't come up here is that how we would have found out about Hannah?"
"Maybe. Sorry."
"Don't be." The expression on Chris's face made Josiah fairly sure he was just saying that, but he nodded anyway.
*.*.*.*.*.*
"How many times did he cheat on my Mama?" Nathan's face was angry, hands in fists on the kitchen table, but his voice caught on his last word, swallowing hard at the end of the sentence. Chris saw the way Josiah's eyes half closed, heard the hard exhale between his teeth, and opened his mouth to say something but Buck beat him to it.
"I asked Uncle Orin when Vincent was born, did the math, Daddy woulda been with his Momma when him and Mama Clara were separated, if that makes you feel any better."
"Maybe...When the hell did they separate? Why don't I remember that?" Some of the anger had been replaced with confusion, and Chris did speak up now.
"Because you were three, Nate. They still lived together, and it was only for about four or five months. Daddy and Mama Clara only told me because I asked him, knew something was wrong because there was no way Daddy had that many business trips and fishing weekends to go to, and whenever he came home suddenly Mama was off to visit her sisters or Granddaddy Obadiah, or to go to a nursing conference."
"That and he slept in the guest bedroom," Josiah said, slightly wryly, Chris nodding.
"That too."
Nathan shook his head, "You know what...it doesn't matter how many times, even if it was only once it's still terrible...Mama didn't deserve that, to be disrespected like that. He told me she was the love of his life-how could he do that to her?"
"Of course she didn't deserve it, Nathan." Josiah soothed, not even attempting to answer Nathan's question, and Chris didn't blame him.
He had seen the little twitch Josiah gave when Nathan had said 'only once'.
Son of a bitch.
His mind went to the whiskey he knew was in the locked cabinet of his father's desk. When he'd moved back in Daddy had cleared the house of anything more alcoholic than the occasional six pack. The decanter of aged whiskey that had sat on his father's desk for as long as he remembered had disappeared too, but knowing the man had his own weakness Chris had gone looking for it. When he'd caught him Daddy had poured the contents down the drain, but the decanter was a heirloom. Months later, when he'd noticed a lock had appeared on the desk cabinet Chris had known what was likely inside it, but by that point he hadn't wanted it. Right now, he wasn't so sure.
He couldn't.
He sure as hell shouldn't.
*.*.*.*.*.*
JD had tried to go to sleep after the movie was over, like Nathan had suggested. They were all going to do the chores together in the morning before they got ready for the will reading, and it was going to be a long day no matter what. But he couldn't sleep, no matter what he did. He was just too nervous about tomorrow, meeting the two brother's he hadn't met yet and finding out what his father's will said. JD had streamed a show on his phone(Buck had told him they didn't have internet, then had burst out laughing at the look on his face and given him the wi-fi password) and then tried to go to sleep, talked to Ayida on FB Messenger-which had mostly turned into him reassuring Mrs. Cela via Ayida that none of his brothers were crazy ax murders or creepy in anyway, and he really was just fine, he promised-and tried to go to sleep, read a chapter out of a book Josiah had lent him, and tried to go to sleep. Now he was unpacking some of the things he'd brought with him, hanging his shirts and coat in the closet, putting his other clothes in the dresser, setting a picture of his mother on the nightstand, her favorite rosary laid next to it. There was a wide plank shelf above the bed, a light chocolatey brown wood that matched the bed and the dresser, that he'd stuck the handful of books he'd brought with him on. Except for stuff like his toothbrush and shampoo that was all he'd brought with him, and as he laid his last pair of boxers in the top drawer-the dresser was deep enough he could lay them flat without folding, so he wasn't going to bother-JD felt a little more settled.
JD hadn't wanted to admit it to himself, but he'd been kind of scared to unpack before. Now, the second night here, it was starting to feel a little more real, like he wasn't to wake up back in his apartment, his alarm going off, telling him it was time to get up for work.
It was a nice room, with green walls that reminded him of a granny smith apple, only not as bright, and two big windows with long, heavy, dark blue curtains to block out the morning sun, but it wasn't his.
Then again, without Mam around his room, the apartment, none of it really felt like it was his anymore. Or maybe it just felt like he didn't want it anymore.
He liked the bed, it was made out of big solid pieces of wood, like something you'd expect to see on a farm or a ranch, and old, though you could see it had been well taken care of, the wood polished to a high shine. Buck had said neither Daddy or their Grandfather had believed in throwing things away, and that a lot of the stuff on the ranch was antique, maybe not the fancy delicate sort of stuff rich people owned, but just as old. He'd have to ask him if his bed was an antique. JD had never had a quilt before, just the bed in a bag comforters that came with the set. It wasn't as fluffy as they were brand new, but he bet it wouldn't be flat and worn thin by the end of the year either, and it was cool anyway, a dark blue denim background with a patchwork design on it that spiraled in towards the center made out of patches from old jeans and stuff, starting with pale blue and getting darker until it was almost black towards the center of the spiral. Nathan had said their Grandma had made it and it was his when he was JD's age, but he'd gotten it down from the attic because he thought JD would like it, and he really did.
It was really cool, but it was even cooler that his brother had been thinking about getting a room ready for him before he'd even gotten here. He'd been kind of worried that Nathan had been taking pity on him when he said JD could stay at the ranch, he had just blurted out a whole sob story right before he offered. But that kind of proved that they wanted him here. He wandered over to the window and leaned his head up against the cool glass, looking out over the yard. He could see the horse barn and the water trough from here, hay fields in the distance, and he used to read books about places like this, when he was a kid.
He was going to have to go back to Boston, he had things to take care of. He needed to get the photo albums Mam had put together, and some other keepsakes, the books he'd left behind, his computer, the rest of his clothes, not much else really, but JD loved his books, and he built that computer himself, and all the rest of it was too important to leave behind. There was the furniture too, and he supposed he could sell most of that, or give it away. He wanted her hope chest though, he knew it was sort of a girly thing, but Mam had kept it in the living room one half full of blankets, the other piled up with second hand board games and puzzles, and he'd always liked it. JD thought he'd put it at the end of his bed, it was a darker wood than the rest, black walnut, but he thought it would match okay. Mam's tea set with the fancy pot that his Nana had brought from Ireland would have to come, only he wasn't sure how to transport it. He'd never been allowed to touch it, and even after Mam died it was all JD could do to dust in its general direction.
He didn't know what to about her clothes and stuff. JD hadn't wanted to go in her room after she died, and the hospice people had cleared out all the medical stuff so he hadn't had to deal with that. It still seemed sort of weird to think about going through her personal items, which was probably stupid since Mam had washed his underwear for most of his life, but it was different.
He wondered if Buck would go back with him to get his stuff and clean out the apartment. Just, because, he figured they wouldn't let him borrow a car or anything, and he was going to need one to get all of his stuff...not like he needed him to come with him. He'd be fine, and he had to quit his job anyway-That could be kind of fun. He probably wouldn't actually do it, but he could imagine walking up to Mr. Knier and telling him where to shove his accounts-and get services shut off, and Buck would probably find that really boring...
JD wanted him to come with him. It made him feel like a stupid kid, but he wanted it anyway. But there was no way Buck would say yes if he asked, not when he had Rosie's Saloon to run, and work on the ranch to do...
He hadn't felt like a kid in a long time, hadn't wanted to be a kid in a long time. Not really. Sure, sometimes people treated him like a kid, but it was always just annoying because he didn't have time for being one. JD was busy balancing school with caring for his mother and trying to make sure nothing fell apart. He'd wanted to be an adult, so he could make the decisions, so he could do something about doctors who didn't approve experimental treatments for the poor Irish-Catholic single mother and did approve them for the rich man in the next room. Because there had been no one else to be the adult, JD had had to do it, whether he knew how or not.
Maybe that wasn't fair to Mam, because even at the end she'd always been worried about him eating and sleeping enough, was always trying to take care of him when she should have been saving her energy.
God, he'd come from class or doing the shopping more than once to find her doing the laundry or cleaning, and if she'd been up doing something he knew she liked, reading or playing the piano, or watching these cheesy soap operas her and Mrs. Cela loved to make fun of, that would have been great, but he hadn't understood why she couldn't just let him take care of the rest. Why she couldn't understand that it was his turn to take care of her, his turn to be the adult, and her turn to be taken care of.
Now everything was different. He didn't have to try and be the grown-up anymore. There were four other people that could do that. JD knew he could have wasted time being mad that they hadn't been there before, and if his Dad had still been around to be angry at...well, he wasn't, so there wasn't any point was there?
And his brothers? They hadn't even known about him. Shifting away from the window, suddenly cold, he pulled the curtains closed and went and climbed onto his bed, not bothering to turn off his lamp or get under the covers, still not sleepy.
God. He'd been so lonely. JD hadn't had many friends in the first place, that was what happened when you were years younger than everybody you went to school with, and after Mam had died he'd pushed the few he had away. Just kept getting up every day in the empty apartment, going through the motions of getting ready and going to work. Where he'd stare at a computer screen for eight terrible hours, come home, eat something he could microwave, and go to bed just to get up and do the same thing all over again. If Mrs. Cela hadn't had a key to the apartment, if she hadn't refused to let him, he would have shut her and Ayida out to.
Although, Ayida had told him in that sing-song voice that she used when she thought he was being particularly stupid that she'd been about to climb over to his window on the fire escape and let herself in, like she had when they were kids, if her mom hadn't done something.
Now, everything had changed. Even if everything went terribly, he sure wasn't gonna be lonely.
He hoped it didn't though. Go terribly. JD hoped, no, needed this to go well. He didn't need whatever his father had left him in his will. What he needed was people. Family.
Buck.
It probably wasn't fair to have a favorite after knowing his brothers for only a few days, and he liked all of them an awful lot. But when he'd walked into Rosie's Saloon, not having anyone, and walked out of it with a brother, that had been down to Buck. He could have let JD go back to his hotel for the night, could have not acknowledged him in the first place. Instead he'd talked to him, let him know he was wanted, brought him to the ranch. Brought him home. A lump rose in JD's throat, and he wasn't sad, so why were there tears in his eyes?
He wasn't sure how long he'd been crying when he heard Buck ease into the room, hurriedly flipping over to hide his face from his brother and scrubbing his sleeve across his face. Shit, he didn't want any of them to see him like this, but especially not Buck. "Hey short stuff, why the long face."
"M'not short." A muffled laugh, and if it were anyone else JD might have taken offense, but coming from him for some reason instead he felt a smile trying to crawl up his face. The older man plopped on the bed behind him, purposely bouncing his brother a little, a grin tickling at his mouth when JD laughed.
"I dunno, from way up here..." Buck ruffled the boy's hair as he trailed off his words, laughing loud when JD rolled over to swipe at him, dodging and ruffling his hair again. JD was unlearned in the ways of brotherly roughhousing, but TV had taught him that both tickling and noogies were involved and he decided to try the former, getting pulled into a loose headlock and tickled back for his trouble. Before too long the both of them were in a giggling heap on JD's bed; occasionally shoving at the others shoulder.
"Buck?"
"Yeah, JD?"
"I'm gonna have to go back to Boston to get my stuff, pack up the apartment, and quit my job. I was wondering if maybe, you would go back with me?" He took a breath, preparing to launch into a speech about why he needed something like Buck's truck to bring his stuff back, and he wouldn't ask but he wasn't old enough to rent anything, but Buck spoke up, casual as could be, before he could, surprising him.
"'Course."
"Really?"
"Yeah, really, I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it. We can fly down, rent one of them u-haul trucks so we have plenty of room for all your stuff and road trip our way back. Should be fun."
That sounded awesome. "That sounds cool. I've never flown before."
Buck chuckled, "I've only flown a couple of times, but I've always liked it. Makes Nathan sick though, he puked all over Daddy and Chris once." JD snorted, then frowned.
"You're sure you can take off from the saloon and the ranch? I mean-"
"JD." Buck sounded kind of amused but also kind of exasperated and he pushed himself up so he was half-sitting, half-leaning on his arm, looking down at JD. JD shut his mouth quickly, but shifted up so he was leaning on the bed's headboard, Buck moving his gaze without missing a beat, "I'm the boss, and I don't work a regular shift anyway, I can take off whenever I want. Chris and me have plenty of help on the ranch, and he's got Josiah for the next little while anyway. Have you seen him, kid? Built like an ox. We should stick him with all our chores tomorrow, bet you he can do them in half the time we could." He did his best to look earnest, nodding and holding his hand out for JD to shake, as though their agreeing on it would actually somehow make Josiah do all their chores in the morning.
"I'm not sure Josiah would like that very much." He said, grinning.
Buck chuckled, "No, I can't imagine he'd be any too happy with us, so best not. But what I'm saying is they can do without us around here for long enough to pack up your old place, it's not a big deal."
It was the biggest deal, but JD just said, "Cool."
"Alright JD, it's getting really late, it's probably time for both of us to hit the hay, otherwise we're gonna hate ourselves in the morning, or at least I'm gonna hate myself. Night kid." JD opened his mouth to tell Buck goodnight, when a giant yawn escaped, surprising him and making Buck smile. "Yeah, you definitely need to get to bed. Don't leave your light on too much longer, okay?"
"Okay, night Buck." Buck patted at his leg and pushed himself off the bed, stretching as he walked towards the door.
"Need anything, just remember, my room is just past the bathroom." JD tried not to roll his eyes, biting back the urge to tell Buck he'd be fine, he wasn't a little kid, because saying that was guaranteed to make him sound like one.
"Okay." Buck pulled the door shut behind him, hinges creaking a little, which JD actually kind of liked, the doors in the apartment had done that too, and then he was alone, staring up at the green ceiling. After a moment he scrambled over so he could shut off his lamp, and then slid under the covers, still not quite sleepy, but getting there.
He wondered what it would be like to drive from Boston to Arizona with Buck.
JD was taking over the radio. When they'd driven out to the ranch's fishing hole he'd played sappy country music the whole time. He wondered how Buck felt about rap, or Lukas Graham...
*.*.*.*.*.*
Buck looked up from over his eggs and almost started howling he was laughing so hard. JD stopped at the bottom of the stairs, looking utterly confused and kind of ticked off. "What are you acting like a hyena for?"
"Are you wearing suspenders? And," Buck choked a bit on his laughter, "hell, I don't even know what to call that shirt."
"What's wrong with my suspenders? And my shirt?" JD snapped coming in to the room to stand across from where Buck was sitting, "You were already ragging me about my hat all day yesterday."
Buck calmed down with what was clearly a great effort of will, "Nothing kid, you make a lovely hipster." Then he dissolved back into laughter, now pounding his fist on the table. Without looking Chris reached a hand up and smacked him on the back of the head, hard. "Ow! Oh, c'mon, Chris, I can't help it!"
"Really, Buck?" Nathan said, giving him a side eye look.
Josiah turned from where he was stirring more eggs on the stove to smile at JD, "A worthy outfit for the day, son."
With a last glare at Buck, JD headed over to lean his side on the counter close to Josiah, "Do you really think so? I wanted it to be, went out and bought it new and everything...figured since I didn't go to the funeral I should at least look good for this...but if it looks stupid..." JD bit his lip, stuffing his hands in his trouser pockets. Buck was no longer laughing, instead looking guilty while both Nathan and Chris glared at him.
"It doesn't look stupid at all, John Daniel." Josiah reassured him, reaching out to clap the boy on the shoulder.
"I think it looks real nice, JD." Nathan said. He kind of thought the kid looked like a hipster too, but it wasn't JD's fault people had ruined a decent outfit. At least JD wasn't trying to grow a flower beard like that guy in those videos Rain's nieces kept making him watch.
Chris just said, "Yep," and went back to his eggs.
"Kid." Buck said quietly, and JD turned toward him, still a little wary he was going to start in again, "I like to tease. Ya don't gotta take me seriously."
JD considered this for a moment, realized Buck meant it, then grinned, "Don't worry, I figure when you got a big old hairy caterpillar on your lip, you have to take your hits where you can get them."
Buck's mouth dropped open, shocked, as Josiah's boom of a laugh filled the room, Nathan about falling off his chair he was laughing so hard, and even Chris cracked a smile for just a second. Still a bit surprised at the comeback, Buck barked out a laugh, "Someone who wears a hat like yours don't getta complain about other people's facial accessories."
"There ain't nothing wrong with my hat Buck, you wish you had a hat as nice as mine." The others rolled their eyes as the two continued bantering, having heard different versions of this exchange multiple times over the last day, and went back to their food, except for Josiah who was dividing the last batch of eggs between his plate and JD's and handed the latter to the boy, taking his own.
"Enough you two. Go eat JD, silverware is already on the table."
Chris, already done, pushed back his chair and stood, heading to the sink with his plate. "Gonna go finish up outside." Everyone looked at him, confused-they'd gotten up early and tackled them together(this was supposed to make it quicker, but with JD constantly asking questions about everything he needed to know and a whole lot of things he didn't, it hadn't been).
"What are you talking about? We did them all." Buck was giving Chris a mighty suspicious stare, which Chris acted like he didn't notice as he shrugged on his coat.
"Forgot to fill the troughs with water."
"But I did-" JD cut himself off, shrinking back in his chair as Chris paused halfway through the door and just looked at him, eyes sharp and face hard.
"Kid didn't do nothing to you." Buck said quietly, and Chris switched his glare to him, before stepping through the door and pulling it shut, surprising them all when he didn't slam it. Buck and Nathan exchanged a long unhappy look.
"Did you see what I did in his jacket pocket?"
"No Nate, but he's acting like it, don't surprise me."
Josiah turned from where he'd been scowling thoughtfully at the back door, to ask, "What's he acting like, exactly? Besides a very unconvincing liar."
Buck sighed, "Like he needs to get away to take a drink, and he doesn't care how he does it." The man ran a hand over his hair, stressed, "I thought we were done with this."
Josiah cocked his head to the side, as though considering something. "He have a bottle he was hiding in his jacket?"
Nathan, feeling as though he was telling on his brother, shook his head, "A flask."
Josiah nodded. While his own tribulations with alcohol were not so much with dependency, but instead a at times dangerous unpredictability, he could relate. Besides, from the little Daddy had told him this was more to do with Chris covering up bad memories and grief anyway he could than true addiction. Like him, his brother was more of a drunk than an alcoholic. "I think I'll go and try to talk to him."
"I don't know if that's a real good idea, Josiah," Buck hedged, "I'm usually the one who handles him, and I'm not sure-"
"I heard the last few times you tried to talk some sense into our hurting brother, he rewarded you by application of his fist to your face. That doesn't need to happen again. Let me handle it this time, Buck."
"That was a year ago, before-before Daddy interfered. And he's not even drunk yet, I'll be fine. Probably ain't even planning to get drunk, Uncle Orin would kill him if he showed up at the reading like that. It's just, one drink and-"
"I don't understand." JD sounded confused and miserable, and it didn't help when everyone turned to look at him like they'd forgotten he was there, "Chris is an alcoholic? He beats up Buck?"
"Chris has been doing very well for about a year now," Nathan said matter of factly, "It's just a hard day, I'm sure that's all that's going on. We'll get on it. As for Buck," he grinned at Buck who looked like he didn't get what the joke was, "After the way Daddy, uhh, nipped it in the butt last time, I don't think Chris'll be doing that again." Buck cracked a very faint grin, but shook his head.
"You're full of shit, Nate, that's not what happened."
"He practically dragged Chris to the barn, that's what happened."
Josiah looked back and forth between them, disbelief mixed with a dawning realization, "No. He didn't."
"They were out there for nearly an hour, longer than it took me to patch Buck up, and he was beat up good. Besides, I was in the kitchen when Chris made himself a sandwich later, he ate it standing at the counter."
"Alright, maybe there's a chance..." Buck said, grin growing a bit. Josiah couldn't help it, he snorted. Nathan started chuckling, and before long all three were laughing.
"Okay, now I definitely don't understand." JD complained. Josiah, pushing himself to his feet, patted JD on the shoulder.
"Stay out of trouble and you won't have to."
"What?" JD looked so confused, and so put out over being confused that it set Buck and Nathan off again, and while they were busy Josiah made his way out the back door, intent on finding Chris.
*.*.*.*.*.*