GUTHRIE KNEW it was stupid and he blamed the whole thing on Ford, really. If Ford hadn't overslept, he wouldn't have been the one to feed the goats and it certainly wouldn't haven't happened as they were rushing out to the bus. But Ford had overslept and spent the morning rushing around. It was as their feet hit the porch steps that Ford said, "Oh, hell! I forget my chemistry book!" He turned to go back into the house, and then paused, "Shit! The goats!" And Guthrie who hated rushing around and being late sighed and said, irritated, "I'll feed the goats get your book!"

And so, he had stepped into the cool barn, and reaching into the feed bucket had felt the bottle. Bottles. There were five of them. He knew they weren't Brian's because he never bothered to hide his drinking. Both Daniel and Evan drank beer. No one in the family opted for whiskey - at least not that he was aware of - he was pretty sure Crane didn't drink. And no one in the family bothered to sneak their drinking. It was the one thing that even Adam was fairly calm about. Guthrie had his first beer at fourteen just like his older brothers. Neither Adam nor Brian made that big a deal about it, and as a result, neither he, nor his brothers got hyped about drinking. Which is why, he was confident that no one in the family would bury empty bottles in a feed bucket.

That left one person.

He couldn't believe what a colossal prick James Moss was. He wasn't about to let Hannah find the bottles, but he didn't really have much time to do anything about it. So, like an idiot, he stuffed the empty bottles into his backpack and rushed out just in time to run with Ford to catch the bus. Ford thought Guthrie was pissed at him for running so late, and so didn't bother to ask why his little brother rode in silence staring out the window of the bus.

Guthrie figured he could chuck the bottles in the trash at school, but then realized that someone would probably notice five empty whisky bottles in the garbage. He decided he was just going to have to sweat it out, and toss them out in a dumpster after school. In hindsight, he should've gone to Mr. Whedon. He had proved to be a pretty understanding teacher in the past - especially when he'd had a complete breakdown about that stupid heritage report, and he could've helped Guthrie out, but for whatever reason Guthrie didn't think of it until it was too late. He was just turning the corner to slip into his second period history class, when Scott Nebbins raced past him saying, "Sweep!"

The school had started doing sweeps last year. It was pretty stupid. They'd had problems with pot and tardies, so from time to time they did a sweep. Anyone in the halls for any reason got a detention - even if you had a note from a teacher. The police dogs would sweep through the halls after that - going from classroom to classroom looking for drugs. It was supposed to deter people from bringing drugs to school. He thought briefly of running - he could probably make the outer fence and no one would know it, but for some reason his legs wouldn't move. Instead of running, he slumped into his desk, and watched the officer step into the room. He kept his head down, as the dog headed straight for him.

***7***

"They aren't his." Brian tried to keep himself calm. "You know they aren't his."

"They were in his backpack, Brian." Principal Edwards, leaned back in his chair, and folding his hands looked at Brian. "Five bottles. All of them empty. This is pretty serious."

"Guthrie doesn't drink. He's got a 4.0! He doesn't like feeling out of control. And he's smart. There's no way he would bring it to school! That's stupid!"

"Look, I've been through this before. You haven't. Parents find it really hard to accept that their child has made bad choices. Guthrie isn't infallible, Brian."

"What did Guthrie say?" Brian asked

"Nothing. He won't say a single word." Mr. Edwards said with a weary sigh. "I have to suspend him, Brian."

"Let me talk to him. I'll get to the bottom of it. I'm telling you, that you are wrong." Brian recognized he was raising his voice, and stopped himself. "Just let me talk to him."

"Of course. Take him home. See what he'll tell you, and we can all meet again on Thursday." Mr. Edward's said rising.

"Thursday?" Brian asked.

"He's suspended tomorrow. We'll meet first thing on Thursday and go from there."

Brian found Guthrie sitting on a bench between a boy who wore his bangs hanging over half his face. It appeared to be a deep shade of blue, and a girl who kept crying, her face buried in her hands`

"Come on, Guth." Was all he said, and Guthrie immediately picked up his backpack and followed him out to the old International.

They rode in silence for a long time, until Brian pulled the truck off the road near the edge of the woods.

"You aren't gonna drag me out of the truck and leave me to fend for myself are you?" Guthrie asked trying to tease his older brother.

"No, but you have some explaining to do."

"I don't have anything to say." Guthrie said looking down.

"Guthrie!" Brian exploded. "Knock it off! You don't drink!"

"I don't want to talk about it. I'm suspended. I won't do it again.'

"Guthrie!" Brian was shouting now as his frustration skyrocketed.

"Leave it alone, Brian!"

"Leave it alone? Leave it alone?" Brian shook his head, and then turned the engine over, pulling back on the road. "Fine. I'll leave it alone. You can talk to Adam about it!"

"Fine." Guthrie sighed looking out the window of the truck. "But I got nothing to say."

***7***

It was an unpleasant afternoon. The only bright spot was that Hannah and Crane had gone into town. He could hold out from talking to Brian and Adam, but facing her would've been impossible. There was no way he could lie to her, and if she asked point blank about the bottles, he knew he couldn't lie - even though he also knew he had to. Crane was really good at getting him to talk too. Between the two of them, he knew that there was no way on earth he could maintain his silence. He could only hope that Brian and Adam would just let it be. He wasn't looking forward to Ford coming home from school and all the questions that he, and Daniel and Evan would throw his way, either. He considered making up a story - that he was protecting someone - a girl. But he recognized he'd have to name someone - he couldn't just throw a friend to the wolves like that! If only he'd tossed them somewhere! If only he'd thought to go to Mr. Whedon! If only Ford had gotten up on time! There was no way any of his brothers would let this go - they would hound him and hound him until he finally said something. Sometimes, it was a real pain in the ass to be surrounded by older brothers. He thought briefly of packing a bag and heading up to the tops for a few days, but knew how much that would make everyone worry. There was no way he could inflict pain and worry on his older brothers. He sat at the desk and opened up his book. He might as well work on trig.

***7***

"I don't understand it." Brian told Adam. "This isn't like Guthrie. What did he tell you?"

"You heard him, Bri." Adam said moving to sit across from Brian at the kitchen table. "He won't explain it. He's willing to do the punishment, and he won't do it again."

"You are okay with that?" Brian's eyes were wide.

"No!" Adam scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous!"

"What are you gonna do?"

"Me? Nothing! You know he'll never crack when you or I are involved." He raised his eyebrows at his younger brother. "I'm not even gonna bother to try. There are easier ways to get the truth from Guthrie."

"Hannah?" Brian laughed. "Well, that's downright mean!"

"He took a backpack full of empty whisky bottles to school, Brian! I'm not interested in being nice!"

"Who brought whisky bottles to school?" Crane asked, stepping into the kitchen with a bag of groceries. "Tell me it isn't one of ours!"

"No luck, there, brother." Brian said rising, and going outside to help with the bags.

"Oh, I know that sound!" Hannah said coming in with two bags. "Tell me no one got arrested. Our savings account can't manage it."

"No arrests." Adam offered with a smile. "Just detention."

"Just your average day at the Circle Bar Seven then." She said with a grin. "So what did they do this time?"

***7***

They sat around the kitchen table, the groceries tucked away. Silence hung heavy in the room. Adam waited. He knew that both Hannah and Crane would have strong opinions and was surprised that neither of them had said anything.

"I knew this would happen." Hannah said at last.

"What?" Adam's face wrinkled in a frown. "You knew that Guthrie would take empty bottles to school?"

"They aren't his." Crane said when Hannah didn't respond to Adam's question.

"I didn't think they were." Adam said, leaning forward in thought. "They must belong to one of his friends - a girl, maybe." He looked from Crane's face to Hannah's. "Wait. You know who drank them?"

Crane glanced at Hannah. "You aren't thinking hard enough, big brother. It's not too complicated. No one here drinks hard liquor except Brian, and he favors Dad's tequila. None of our boys hide their drinking either. They've never had to."

"Are you saying that Hannah's been drinking?" Brian asked with a laugh. "Life on the ranch gotten to be too much for ya, Sis?"

"No." Crane said.

"Sweetheart." Adam said, suddenly realizing it. "I'm sorry. I didn't even . . ."

"You don't have to apologize to me. You don't drink." She said with a sigh. She turned to look at Brian who still looked confused. "He's protecting me, Brian. Nobody who lives on this ranch drank that whiskey, but I'm sad to say someone related to one of us did."

"Hannah, I didn't even . . .I'm sorry." Brian said suddenly understanding. "But why didn't he just explain that to the principal or to me?"

"Because he doesn't want me to know." She sat back in her chair. "I was such a fool! But you and your damn happy endings." She shook her head at them. "I started to believe that things could be . . . but sooner or later it ends this way. Only this time, it's someone else that's gonna have a broken heart." She rose angrily. "I won't allow it, Adam! I won't! He's not gonna hurt Guthrie the way . . ." She stopped herself, and crossed to the doorway. "I'll go talk to Guthrie."

"No, honey." Adam said rising. "Let me."

"It's my responsibility. I'm the one who brought him here." She said stubbornly.

"No you didn't." Brian said angrily. "I did. It was my stupid idea. I'm so sorry, Hannah. I had no idea."

"Of course you didn't, Brian. Your father never would have . . ." She swallowed hard.

"Let me talk to him with you." Adam insisted. "Sweetheart, please." After a long pause, she nodded her head. The two of them turned to leave the room, Adam reaching for her hand.

"If any of you see him," She said, her voice bitterly cold. "You tell him to stay the hell away from me and mine."

***7***

It was decision time, and he knew it. He kept thinking of that magical day. No one angry to see him. Her voice low and soft, "Dad." She'd said it gently, softly, and it filled his heart with such warmth. The drinking was a problem. He knew it. But maybe if he explained things. That's what he'd do. He'd go to her. Tell her everything. Finally, come truly clean at last. They'd help him, and he could spend his days working alongside them at the ranch. He'd be a grandfather sooner or later. He could see it all - like some damn Hollywood movie where the down and out character gets his shit together at long last.

But even as he thought it; even as he determined in his heart that things would go differently this time, he was reaching for the bottle. All the desire to quit in the world never seemed to make one damn difference. He always promised himself things would be different and yet he always found himself, passed out and alone. He glanced over at the plate. It said on the shelf beside the small locked cash box. The two items were at odds with each other. One held everything he'd taken, and one was everything she'd given. He knew the end result of the jewelry and cash would be prison again. No one would show mercy to him now. He'd broken parole, left the county, and stolen almost immediately upon his release. And he dragged his daughter into it all. He knew how small towns worked. No matter what - if he were hauled away in chains or snuck off in the night - everyone would talk. They would blame her.

He was no good. He'd never been anything but a low life. He knew it. He had learned to live with it. It was what his daddy told him day after day. "You won't amount to nothing but disappointment!" He supposed it was true. He tried not to think of those two days he'd spent with her. It brought him tremendous pain.

Dad.

No, it was too late. There was nothing he could do to change anything. The die had already been cast. He was the down and out character, and he would never be anything else. He reached out his hand ready to smash the damn plate that mocked him. It was all just goddamned wishful thinking and James Moss was never a dreamer.