Well, in honour of the birthday of someone very near and dear to my heart, an update! He actually really helped me put together the new character appearing in this chapter! Hopefully you all enjoy! In other news, my NANO is still going strong, and my Stats homework is...not! Ah well, life is too short to worry about how to find the mean score in a group of numbers. And that pretty much is all I had to say, so moving along...

Disclaimer: The Usual.

Chapter 9 Careful What You Wish For

June rolled into July, just like it always did, and everything dried up. I was used to it, seeing as how this was Oklahoma. I didn't complain about it, either – it was good for business. The hotter it got, the more people wanted to just set and drink. Now, it was a well known fact that booze dehydrated a body, and on a hot day it worked even faster. But booze also tricked a body something awful. It was wet, and it was cold, and it hit the spot.

I made sure to keep the booze cold during the summer months for that reason. I was fairly certain that I was the only one in town who was stashing brandy, whiskey, bourbon, vodka, and anything else wet right beside the beer in the fridge. Fancy folk would tell you that I was ruining the alcohol, but I couldn't remember the last time I got anyone in the bar who was fancy enough to care. The bar was always full of Greasers, old timers, and country men who came for a good time. No one judged anyone else, and no one was up for fighting when it got this hot out. The bar was honestly my favourite place to be from June to September.

Outside the bar was a whole other story. It seemed like folks had a lot of problems going on. There was Vietnam – a war I'd lost track of because it had been going on for so long, so far away – and the ever rising inflation on prices. Neither was a big concern for me. The government didn't draft people who ran businesses, and because people would always drink alcohol, I didn't have to worry about losing my shirt, either.

Life as I knew it was good. I just hoped it stayed settled for a while.

Things were pretty tame at the Slash J, like they always were between rodeos. The people who boarded stock were there a might more, mainly so their kids could get riding lessons while they were out of school. That was something Jeff managed to organize well enough. Jeff may not have had much people sense, but kids seemed to like him about as well as horses did. Really, all I was needed for was signing off on the normal bills, and going to the board meetings to make sure the partners were still happy.

So I spent more of my time at the bar. For the first time in nearly two years it was making a noticeable profit, even with two permanent people on staff. I was even getting used to Kim and Jo's little relationship. It just meant that I had to give the pair of them the same nights off, which meant a bit more work for yours truly, but it also meant that I could pick a couple nights off a week for myself. I hadn't managed that since before I'd fired Pete. He'd lulled me into believing that I could trust him with the bar. Damn Pete. I felt like a fool every time I thought about how well he'd managed to swindle me. I really owed Jeff for pointing Jo in my direction.

Speaking of Jeff, the damndest thing happened – he found himself a girl. Now, I had only seen her once or twice, and I could assure you she was no kid, and no horse. The important thing was, Jeff was happy with her, and she seemed to be happy with Jeff. She filled up all of his free time well enough.

That left me – Buck Merrill. Bar owner, barn manager, bad poker player, number one baby sitter, and still as single as they came. I didn't mind the babysitting part as much as I thought I would. The kid was...growing on me. But that was getting to be a problem, too. Having someone so small wanting to show me everything he found interesting about the world was something I had forced myself to forget a long time ago. It got me to wondering about my own kid brother. He'd be eighteen last month – finally an adult. And that would mean I'd missed seven birthdays. It also meant that Sandy had almost been gone seven years, too. I didn't think about either of them much. It made me want things I'd been missing. Sandy was the only person alive who ever understood me, and Trip was the only person who ever looked up to me like I was worth something. Little good it did me now.

I shook my head a bit. It was the first week of July, so I was up to my ears in the newest delivery of booze. Someone had to do inventory on it, and it was dragging on something awful in the hot back room. It was no wonder my thoughts were wandering the way they were. I always did get scatterbrained when I was sweating like mad. So far, I had managed to get through three kinds of beer, but there were another three to go, then the liquor to sort out. Once that was counted and stocked, there was soda pop. At the rate I was going, it would be midnight before I got it all figured. By then, it might have cooled down enough to get through it faster, too.

"Hey, Buck?"

I sighed to myself. That was if I could get through ten minutes without someone needing me. It seemed like they only ever needed me on inventory night.

"Yeah, Jo?" I asked, not looking up from my count of one of the boxes.

"There's a kid out front."

"I told you, I don't care if they drink here, but they get cut off after two."

In the past, I'd had minors and under aged kids drunk all over the place. That was back when I was too drunk to care. Now, I knew how much it cost to pay off the fuzz about that sorta stuff. Thus the two max policy. I may have been reformed, but I wasn't exactly dead. I needed some of that business, and I figured it was better they drink one or two at my place than ending up in a car somewhere, driving around, finding Greasers, getting stabbed, and ruining a whole pile of lives because no one gave 'em a place to be, told 'em to stop drinking before they got drunk...

Jo sighed, leaning on the door frame. I finished the box I was on and glanced up at her, wondering why she was still standing there.

"Jo, I got a lot to get done," I told her.

"Well, I have the feeling you're not getting any farther than this tonight. The kid's asking for you."

I frowned. I didn't know any kids, not anymore. The only ones that came to mind were Ponyboy Curtis, and Curly Shepard. Baby Shepard was in jail for the next six months, and Baby Curtis was Baby Curtis. The point was, there was no way that either of them was asking for me.

"Great," I muttered, motioning Jo towards the bar. "Just what I need."

I stepped out into the bar and looked around for this kid Jo was talking about. I wasn't prepared for who I saw waiting.

At the close end of the bar, there was a kid of about eighteen, He was wearing a dusty jacket, aimlessly looking at the bottles along the back wall of the bar. He even casually fluttered the blond bangs off his forehead with a long, bored breath. He was your typical six foot cowboy.

But I was floored because he wasn't just your typical cowboy. God, I never once thought about my kid brother growing up on me. And I never expected he would come here. He'd known where I was for seven years, after all. He had no right to throw me off like this.

His green eyes landed on me then, and a huge, white, gleaming smile split his face near in two. He was actually happy to see me. I couldn't do anything but stand there and watch him.

"Buck!" His tone was even overjoyed.

"Trip," I replied, watching as he came around the bar to where I was standing.

And if I wasn't prepared to see my brother in the bar, I sure as hell wasn't prepared for the way he threw his arms around me and squeezed tight. I froze, feeling both out of place and like I had come home all at once. Trip had hugged me like this on the day Daddy shipped me off here. Of course, Trip had been sobbing, trying to fuse us together. I'd hugged him back just as tight back then. But now I was stiff as a corpse, barely daring to breathe.

When he pulled back, his eyes were full of that same joy. I imagine mine were confused, panicked, and scared.

"Wow, I wasn't sure I'd know who you were, but I know you! You look like Daddy," Trip told me, rambling in a drawl that could only come from growing up in a truck with Daddy.

"I don't look a thing like him," I told Trip.

It was a lie. Everyone told me that I looked like Granddaddy, and Daddy just happened to look like him, too. But looks were as far as it went. I was nothing like Daddy and resented the comparison. Daddy was loud, harsh, violent at times, and continuously pissed off at me. Granddaddy was growly, but he meant well and taught me everything he knew. He gave me a life, and I may not have turned out the way he wanted me to, but I did better than I would have otherwise.

"Right," Trip chuckled, not catching my drift.

"What are you doing here?" I asked. He couldn't be here. He was supposed to be off living with Daddy.

Trip's smile – Mom's smile, Sandy's smile – faded, and he offered me a more guarded one. "You got an office or somethin' so we can talk?"

I nodded, gesturing that he should follow me. I led him out through the kitchen to where the break spot was. I did a lot of my smoking out here, and if I was going to have a talk with my brother, it was likely that I would need a cigarette before we were through.

The alley was quiet as I sat on one of the crates, gesturing at Tip to take the other. He gave the alley a once over before sitting down. He slipped the duffle off his shoulder, laying it at his feet, before rubbing his hands over his knees. I knew that motion. The kid was anxious.

"Buck, I ain't gonna beat around the bush. I need a favour."

"Figures," I sighed, reaching into my pocket for the pack I kept there.

"You didn't think I came just to visit?" He looked hurt.

"What's the favour?" I prompted, not willing to get into it with my brother.

"Well, I'm eighteen now. I'm a grown man with grown problems," he declared. "And like a grown man, I can't keep dependin' on Daddy for everythin'..."

"What did you do?" I asked, striking a match, and lighting my cigarette.

"How'd you know...?" He just shook his head. "See, it's like this. I rodeo now, have for a while, and when I was down in Del Rio, I may have...had a thing."

I waited, hoping he'd find his point soon.

"She was really pretty, and I was looking for a good time, and then it's not until after when she mentions she already has a cowboy, and..." Trip blew out a long breath of air. "I need a place to lay low. It'll just be until he gets over that murderous urge to shoot me or stab me with pointy objects."

"You really put your foot in it," I sighed.

No wonder he couldn't go to Daddy about this. The old man would blow a fuse, and then he just might have popped Trip one for being an idiot.

"I know. You wanna hear the worst of it? He's Drew Perry."

"Damn it," I sighed.

"I know!" Trip groaned.

Drew Perry wasn't a man you forgot easily. He was big, he was mean, his temper was legendary, and he rode the circuit. That meant he could potentially roll through Tulsa in September when we hosted our leg of the pro rodeo. But that also meant he wouldn't be passing through here for two months. It probably wouldn't be enough time for Perry to cool off, but it would buy Trip some time to figure out what he was going to do next. He was right to be scared. Perry had been tied to a few different deaths over the past few years. Nothing ever made it to trial, though. He was the last person Trip needed to get into a pissing match with.

But, I had to give the kid a bit of credit. He'd come to the right place. I wasn't a big name in the rodeo business. I was behind the scenes nowadays, I was settled in one place, and I had places I could hide him, if need be. From my point of view, it was harder. I didn't know him anymore. I didn't owe him anything, and taking him in was just going to bring me trouble I didn't need. He was grown, he could take care of himself, but clearly he still needed someone to look out for him.

I took a long drag. God, it was Dallas all over again.

"Buck, I know I got no right to ask, but I got nowhere else to go."

"What about Daddy?" I asked, causing my brother to let out a long breath.

"I didn't exactly tell him I was comin' here. I didn't exactly tell him much of anything, really. Just left him a note that I was in a bind and I skedaddled."

"He's probably pissed as hell at you," I sighed.

"He'd be even more pissed if I told him where I was goin'." He sent me a long, guilty look.

I knew my name was mud with Daddy, and he would be mighty pissed if he found out where the kid was. Perry would be the least of my worries then.

"An' if I had waited for him to come back from the binger he was on, I bet you I'd have been shipped off to Robbie's before I could blink."

I blinked then. Robbie was one of Dad's long term gals. Every time we were in Kansas, Dad made an excuse to stop by Robbie's house. She had a farm with lots of chickens. But I'd seen the way she leered at Sandy, and then me when I was older. I had no doubt in my mind that Daddy wouldn't even be at the end of the driveway before she jumped Trip.

"So I'm supposed to pull you out of the fire, and rearrange my life because you screwed up?" I asked, flicking my ashes in his direction.

"Why not? Granddaddy did it for you."

I felt like I'd been punched. That blunt jab about the past was Daddy's influence, but the groan and the pained look that followed? That was all Trip.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that. I just meant that Granddaddy – he helped you out when you needed it. That's what good family does. The Buck I remember was good family."

"What? I was the fuck up middle child," I dismissed, taking another drag.

"You were always the one who helped me out. That is good family in my books."

I sighed. He sure knew how to grab me by the balls. Damn kid.

"If you're going to stay here, you're going to earn your keep."

Trip's lip tipped up into a crooked grin. "Sounds fine."

"And you stay the hell out of trouble – hear me?"

"I hear ya."

I glanced from my brother to the end of the cigarette, dropping it on the ground. I squished it under my boot as I stood up, motioning Trip up, too.

"C'mon, I'll show you to your room. Is this all you have?" I asked, noting the duffle didn't look half full.

"Give or take a Pala-mine-o."

I drew up short there. Palomino? That was a...horse.

"You brought a horse?"

"His name's Cowboy." Trip grinned.

"Why did you bring a horse?"

"How do you think I got here?" He asked, looking like it was obvious.

"Where is the horse now?" I asked, wondering if he had been stupid enough to leave it out front.

"I'm not slow. I asked around for where the rodeo boarded horses and had him put up down at the Slash J."

Trip gave me another one of those crooked smiles, that painful one that reminded me of people I had been without for a long time, and I just nodded. Yeah, he sure wasn't slow when it came to his horse at least. Seems Daddy managed to drill that into his head well enough.

"Welcome to Merrill's," I began, leading him around the back to the fire stairs.

"It looks right nice," Trip commented, following along.

As we climbed, I told my brother all about the place. I thought the back way would be best so we wouldn't end up parading through the bar. I wasn't quite sure what I was going to say when I did walk back in there. Explaining a kid brother you hadn't seen in seven years wasn't something you did ten minutes after re-meeting the kid.

"The big change Granddaddy made was putting in an apartment about thirty or so years ago. That's where I live. I'll allow you to hang your hat in my spare room."

"Mighty kind of you." Trip sounded far too amused.

"Yeah, well, just wait. You'll be splitting the cooking and the cleaning with me," I told him evenly. "And I only do both well enough to survive."

Trip chuckled and I rolled my eyes. He'd see just how funny that was.

Trip was silent by the time we got up to the apartment. I closed the door behind us, watching as he wandered around the main room, wide-eyed wonder in his eyes. Now, that was the kid I remembered.

"It sure is nice."

"Its home," I offered. "Take your boots off or it won't stay nice for long."

"Alright," he agreed, leaning against the wall to tug his boots off. "This is more of a home than I can remember having."

I didn't argue with him. I knew what he was talking about. Sandy had made every place a home, always pushing Daddy to find somewhere with four walls, a roof, and reasonably liveable. But mostly, he made sure that we were all happy, that we were always together. With just Daddy around, I imagine Trip hadn't spent any time in a place that felt like home.

"Come on. I'll let you bunk in Granddaddy's old room."

Trip nodded, following me to where the bedrooms were. It was the bigger of the two rooms, but it had been Granddaddy's and I just didn't think I could ever sleep in there. He still haunted me, I suppose, just the way Sandy did.

Trip wandered into the room, looking around, and finally dropping his bag on the bed. All Granddaddy's things were exactly the way he left them on the day he died. I hadn't had the heart to throw any of it out. There was laundry in the hamper, clean clothes in the closet. The dresser and night table were covered with odds and ends that every good cowboy kept in his pockets – twine, toothpicks, coins, and a pocket knife. Trip could sort it out. He didn't know the man, so it would probably be easier for him than me.

"Thanks, Bucky...it's homey."

No, it was dusty. Everything was covered in dust after three years of being shut away.

"I wasn't expecting anyone, so it's not cleaned out. You can get rid of anything in here that you don't need or want or end up tripping over."

Trip nodded again, picking up a picture of Granny off the bedside table. You could see the void in the dust where it had sat for so many years.

"Did you ever meet her?" he asked, gesturing at me with the picture.

"Once. Sandy and me were real small. I remember she really liked my hair, and that she made one hell of a pie."

Trip grinned a bit, putting the frame back. "Sounds like Granddaddy lucked out."

Merrill men were notoriously bad cooks, so we had to get lucky and find women who could cook. I'd learned a fair bit because Granddaddy's idea of food wasn't fit for living creatures. Sandy'd learned because Daddy was worse. Trip would learn, too.

"You can come and go as you please," I offered, feeling awkward just standing there. "I should get back down stairs."

Trip nodded, still looking around, and I decided he would be fine without me. I had bottles to inventory, after all. And I needed some time to think about what I had just done. I was torn between having my brother back, and getting to know this perfect stranger again. All we shared was blood and some memories I'd have liked to permanently forget. I was thanking god that he only had Sandy's smile. I didn't know if I could bared looking at him if he looked more like Sandy.

Kim and Jo were both eyeing me when I came back downstairs. I sighed, reaching for the closest bottle of bourbon and poured myself a glass.

"That was Trip. He's my brother and he's going to be here for a spell."

"I thought he looked familiar," Kim said with a nod, curiosity apparently satisfied.

"That'll be nice for you," Jo threw in.

I huffed, not making up my mind one way or the other. I just finished my drink, rounded the bar, and went right back to counting bottles. Who would have thought that in under the space of an hour I would want to be working on the one thing I hated more than anything?

Earlier today, I only wished I had my brother back, knew how he was doing. Now it looked like I had gotten exactly what I wanted – and then some. I guess there was something to be said for being careful about what you wished for.

Well, things never stay the same long for our intrepid hero!

Any comments at all are welcome and flames accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!