Holy fuck I want to finish this so badly. I just love this story and the characters and whilst I wouldn't say the ending is near in any sense, it's certainly nearer than a lot of my other stories which gives me extra motivation to finish, even if I keep adding shit to the plot.

Maybe if I finish this I'll have more time to divide between the other fics...

...

Matthew didn't want to knock just yet.

He wasn't even sure he wanted to do this at all, but Hunapo had been pretty… insistent. He suppressed a shudder; for someone so small, Haka Huna sure had a way of bending other people to their will, intimidating them, even, hidden beneath that sweet temperament. But deep down, he knew they were right, and he honestly wanted to make up with his brother, which he more or less had, and he really wanted to help Mike and get along with him, but he honestly hated trying to talk to the guy. Michael had been difficult to get through to lately, constantly angry and convinced he was right.

Matt understood now that he would never be convinced to pull out of the rodeo, and at long last he was starting to respect his brother's career path, but the fact that Mike seemed to unaware of how his actions could lead to devastating consequences startled him. Honestly, if Mike had been less reckless, and more level-headed, Matt would not have fretted so much, but the boy was too much like Alfred to not worry him. Matthew tortured himself with the thought that Mike would go the same way, and he could see the boy lying in an arena, same position as Alfred, struggling to breathe, bleeding critically, dying before he'd really experienced life.

Matthew didn't know how many more funerals he could take, and that space beneath the apple tree was getting crowded.

But maybe with his help, Mike could do it. Bareback bronc was next- his own best event- and after that there was nothing incredibly dangerous. As long as Mike didn't fall off his horse and the pole bending or barrel racing, he should be fine for the rest of the event and Matthew could then breathe easy.

Until Sam competed in the bull riding, that is.

Matthew groaned, running a hand through his fine hair before jumping in the air as a voice behind startled him.

"Hey if you need Sam, she's out training," Mike raised an eyebrow as his brother wheeled around.

"Oh, hey there kid," he began, "um, actually, it was you I wanted to see."

Mike, Sam and Arthur shared a hotel room for economic reasons, and because Mike didn't want to share with Matt. Matthew instead shared a room with Natalya, which wasn't all that fun an experience, although neither really spent much time together there.

Mike's eyebrows shot up. Daisy was darting around his ankles in an excited mess, yapping at the two.

"I want to give you advice," Matt assured him.

That didn't help much. "Depends on the advice. Because if you're here to advise me to quit-"

"I'm not!"

"Okay man chill out," Mike held his hands out before him, "just askin' bro."

"Can we talk in the restaurant? It's nicer down there," he paused, "unless you've already eaten, that is."

That seemed to perk him up. "Nah, Sam made me run down to the store to get some stuff."

"Isn't that a half hour away?" Matt raised an eyebrow.

Mike shrugged, seemingly thinking about it for the first time. "I guess. But I can just jog. Get fit and all. Plus, gas is expensive."

Or maybe, Matt suspected, Sam just needed the place to herself and Arthur for an hour or so. He wasn't sure if Michael had caught on to his cousin's intentions or not, but didn't want to be the one to spoil his innocence.

"So, food then?" he offered instead.

"Hell yeah! You payin'?"

Matt's eye twitched, "Sure thing. Just don't order a banquet."

...

"I'm very impressed with your performance so far, in the arena, I mean," Matthew began with some reluctance as Mike wolfed down a plate of grilled chicken and pasta, athlete food, as the brothers called it. Daisy was under the table, curled up asleep and only opening her eyes when Mike threw scraps of chicken down to her.

"Really?" the boy replied through a mouthful of dinner. "Well thanks bro!"

"You're nearly as good as I was," he joked.

"That's one hell of a compliment," said Mike, "cause, dude, I just wanted to be half as good as you. Better than everyone else, but not you."

"Given that there are cowboys out there who are way better than me, that's something of a paradox you've made for yourself."

Mike chuckled, falling silent as he continued eating. Eventually, he looked up again, apprehensive.

"Y'know, Mattie, it'd be nice to compete with you again," he mumbled, "I was really looking forward to it, growing up, entering competitions with you and Alf."

"Mike, plea-"

"I mean, I know the three of us will never get to compete professionally together," Mike added hurriedly, "but it'd be really fun to have you back in the game."

"That's not gonna happen," Matthew said quietly, firmly.

"Are you-"

"Yes. Look, it's not something I'm willing to get into. Please respect that, kid."

"Fine," Mike mumbled with a sulk, "I just miss the old times, when it was the three of us and mom, and Sam too. You know, on the farm."

"It's not good to live in the past," Matt commented.

"Look who's talking."

At least Matt looked like he was trying not to smile.

"Remember that time we went camping at the edge of the farm, by the creek, and mom made this hamper full of snacks for us and we set up a campfire and told ghost stories," Mike's eyes shone through his shades as he spoke, "and we had this huge pile of blankets and pillows in the tent and Al had his banjo to play songs and he was teaching me 'ring of fire'."

"That was the best night ever," Matt agreed, "I loved laying under the stars. Then Al had to storm back home in a strop because he got a bit spooked."

"Maybe those ghost stories weren't the best idea."

Matt raised an eyebrow. "Well you liked them no problem, and you were only ten."

"Still, we probably should've done the responsible thing and gone with him," Mike commented, "he could've gotten lost or seriously hurt. No wonder Al got so pissy; his brothers are dickheads."

"Yeah. It was nice with just you though, a bit more quiet and peaceful."

"Hah, quiet, me," Mike scoffed.

"You used to be lovely," Matt told him, "um, well, I'm sure you still are. Just difficult sometimes."

"Thanks," Mike grunted.

"I miss the old you, I'll admit."

"What are you talking about? I'm still me."

"That's bullshit and you know it."

Mike huffed, saying no more on the subject.

"Do you hate me?" he asked suddenly.

The question caused Matthew to choke on his pizza, and he sputtered and wheezed as he contemplated why the boy would say such a thing. He was red in the face as he stared at his little brother in horror, Michael seemingly taking his shock for a confirmation.

"Of course not!" he cried. "I might not agree with what you're doing, but I'd never hate you for it! You're still my baby brother, no matter what."

Somehow, the answer didn't seem to satisfy Mike. "Did you ever hate me? Like, before I was born and when I was little and stuff?"

Matt's face crumpled, his silent reply all Mike needed. The pair didn't speak, Matt glaring at the table and willing himself to say something- anything- that could help here. But as much as he considered himself a great tactician, this would be difficult, especially with such an ugly truth out in the open.

"I was angry," he admitted, "I was a small child, too. Little kids get angry and say they hate stuff all the time. Hell, I told dad I hated him when he didn't buy me this toy tractor one time."

"Matt, be serious here."

"I was angry though. I was supposed to be angry at mom but I didn't want to be, so I took it out on you instead. What mom did wasn't your fault, but yes, before I met you, I hated you. I stopped that the moment we met though. You're hard to hate once people get to know you, kid."

"Well I'm clearly not trying hard enough then," Mike grinned briefly, "look, bro, answer me honestly, would things have been better if I'd never been born?"

"What the fuck?" Matt reeled back, "no way in hell! Look, mom would still have had that affair and been found out at some point, and after Al died I'd have no one besides dad. Not even Sam because we just wouldn't be close because you being born was the reason mom got in touch with her sister again. Burying Alf and mom was painful as anything as it was without having to do it alone."

Mike sighed. "I guess…"

"Look, little bro, what's important now is that you're here and real and matter to so many people. Accident or not, you should make the most of your life, rodeo or no rodeo." He leaned over, resting a hand on Michael's. "I for one am honoured to know you."

"Yeah same to you," Mike replied with a blush, turning back to his now empty plate to poke at the pile of onions painstakingly picked out of the pasta.

"Bro, I never wanted to ask mom this, and never got round to asking Alf, but, do you know who my dad is?" Mike looked up.

"Honestly, Mikey, I don't know, I never met him and mom never said anything about the guy she was having the affair with," Matthew replied, sincere.

"Oh, I understand," the boy nodded, turning to the window and glaring outside. Well that was that. Matt didn't know. Sam didn't know. Either Aunt Abigail didn't know or she was refusing to tell him anything, and the only people left to ask were dead. All he knew was that his old man didn't want to know, didn't want a kid or deal with stepsons, didn't even want a real relationship with their mother. And he had the same genes as that dick.

"Hey, Mattie," he began, "I'm not gonna ask you to get into rodeo again, but could you at least come back home? It's lonely back there now and there's nothing to do anymore. I'm thinking, with you home, we could get cattle again and go back to farming. Whaddya say?"

Matthew blinked, leaning back as he considered the idea. "Oh, that's mighty kind of you to suggest. I'll have to consider it though."

"That's cool. I just really don't wanna get stuck on my own out there for months on end." That kind of loneliness could drive a person mad.

…

Samantha chugged on a protein shake in the hotel garden. She knew her cousins were inside, probably in need of some privacy and time, and she herself just wanted a moment to reflect on life. Her hair was still damp from her shower, slowly drying in the evening sun and it was nice to smell clean after a long day and be in clothes not caked in dirt. Arthur was still in the shower in their suite, and no one else paid her any attention as she sat on a sun lounger admiring the sunset through her waterbugs.

Everything felt luxurious here, just what she'd worked for. Her clothes- booty jeans and a loose blouse- had been bought with money she'd grinded hard to win. This was all a product of her determination and ability, and she revelled in it. This was the life she wanted for all of time.

Shame it wasn't completely hers just yet. Between competitions, she still had to go back to that small town near the farm and waste her life waitressing in that run-down diner no one bothered with besides the occasional lost traveller. That wasn't the life she wanted for herself, but the fear of going it alone was too much.

That's exactly what her mother did, though. Abigail Jones had no one when she fell pregnant, boyfriend gone as soon as he heard the news, no way to support herself now that rodeo was- temporarily- out of the question. Her only family- a sister- was too far away and busy with her own engagement that Abi didn't want to be a burden on her.

So she did whatever odd jobs were going, that she as a pregnant woman could do without injuring her baby, and when little Samantha was born, she raised her baby girl alone, getting back into competing and encouraging her daughter when the child wanted to follow in her footsteps.

Sam remembered the rodeo fairs that were the staple of her childhood well. The excitement at seeing all the enormous, burly cowboys and bigger livestock was still clear in her mind, along with watching her mother compete in all the events.

And then, seventeen years ago, they moved out west to be with her aunt Hannah, recently divorced from her husband after finding out she was pregnant with another man's child and alone with one son, another on the way.

Abigail had known what it was like to go it alone, and as much as she believed her sister was an idiot, among other things, she wanted to be there for her. So Sam grew up with two of her cousins, later joined by Matthew, and the four of them became an unstoppable team of overly-competitive knuckleheads, though at least Matt still had two brain cells not bashed into oblivion to rub together by the end of it all. Probably why he bailed when he did.

It was a disservice to her mother, this fear of the unknown, of failing. If Abigail could ride from place to place competing, with a small child in tow too, why couldn't Samantha? Sam was no stranger to bumpy starts and penny-pinching- it was how she and her mother got through Sam's childhood- but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

It was a good thing her mother was back home on the farm, unable to hear what was going through her daughter's mind. And Sam knew Michael was a weak excuse. The boy would be a man in two years; and Abigail was fine looking after him until then, and although she wanted to support him any way she could, he wasn't a helpless child who needed her to be his new mother. Plus, if he and Matt continued talking and listening to each other, he wouldn't be alone again.

Her plan of reuniting them was a hopeful success in this case, so who's to say her other plans wouldn't be?

"There you are, pet," Arthur greeted hazily as he settled into the sun lounger next to her. His eyes were bright, focused but not entirely on her.

"Oh hey darling," she chirped, "good shower?"

"Heavenly. How are you holding up?"

"A bit battered but alright. Exhausted too," she threw him a wink, and revelled in the faint blush, slightly darker than his sunburn. "Having a nice relax though, and a think, feel free to join me it's great!"

"You know I think I will," Arthur observed the other people in the garden, from other couples also sunbathing to children shrieking as they jumped into the pool to that one creepy old guy who was either ogling him or Sam, and he wasn't quite sure which was worse.

"Look," he pulled his eyes away, back to Sam, who was radiant gold in the sunlight, "I've been thinking too. Can we talk?"

"Go right ahead honeybuns," Sam took off her sunglasses to look him straight in the eye.

"Erm, well, I've been thinking, about what you said about wanting to do rodeo professionally." Even the way Arthur said 'rodeo' sounded odd, uncharacteristic, like before they'd met he'd never uttered the word in his life and was still getting used to it.

"Oh that was just silly-talk," Sam waved a hand. Arthur didn't buy it for a second.

"Be that as it may," he continued, "do you think you could manage it with someone else?"

"I could manage on my own if I wasn't such a scaredy cat," admitted Sam, "some company would be nice though."

"Well, erm, you know how much I complain about my job-"

"Your coworkers, your boss, your office, your computer," Sam grinned, "sometimes the highlight of my day is just hearing all the swear words you make up describing it all."

Arthur blinked. "Really? That's funny, because I'm thinking of packing it all in."

"Well isn't that just a case of deja vu right there. How many times have you said that now?"

"Too many to count," he joked, "but seriously, I mean it this time."

"Heard that too."

Arthur gave a shrug. "Well, now I have an idea of what to do instead."

"Oh you do now?" Sam sat up, setting her shake down, "tell all, sweetheart."

So he did. "I think, if we both quit our jobs, withdrew our pensions and savings, we could start a new life together on the open road."

"We-well," Sam spluttered, "that's one heck of a plan you have there, but I'm not sure it'll work."

"Sure it can!" Arthur sat bolt upright, arms flailing excitedly, "if we work together. Think about it, the two of us probably have enough between us to buy a trailer and everything you need, and you can enter all your rodeos, and I, well…"

"Yes?" Sam drew out the word, leaning forward.

"I can write," Arthur whispered.

That stopped Sam in her tracks. Arthur had mentioned an interest in storytelling and creative writing numerous times before, hinting at his real passion with the bitterness and longing of a madman. Was he really suggesting he'd give up the job he hated to finally pursue his dream? And in doing so provide her with a means to pursue hers?

"I don't know what to say," she squeaked.

"Say yes," Arthur begged, "please. I know there's so much that can go wrong- trust me, I've thought of nothing else- but I honestly think we can do it. Even if I never publish anything, or we run into money issues, I'd rather that than what we have now."

"Won't you miss England?" Sam asked eventually.

"I will, but I'm sure my brother can manage without me," he shrugged, "and I can always visit from time to time."

Sam took a deep breath, knowing they should, realistically, take a few weeks to decide this and mull over the details and complications, but to hell with that! She was going to pull an Alfred and do her mother proud. "So we're really doing this?" she breathed, and when Arthur nodded she squealed and pulled him into a hug, nearly suffocating the man.

"I'll need some time to sort everything out on my end though," Arthur explained, "immigration and the like. Plus I'll have to quit my job. Genuinely looking forward to it!"

"Of course, hon."

"Preferably before I get second thoughts too, or have a heart attack worrying."

"It's good to just go get it done," Sam agreed, "like ripping a bandaid off. Because if not we'll just keep making excuses to delay it all the time."

Arthur nodded. "So, it's not too soon then, us living together? That's what I've been worrying about too."

Sam laughed a ringing, melodic laugh, slapping Arthur on the back. "Oh come on, honeybuns, I know people who've gone and married in the time we've been together."

"Right," Arthur joined in with his own chortle, "I suppose I should leave tomorrow then. Well, I needed to anyway, but I'll be back this time!"

"I'll be waiting."

"I'll visit before the end of the tournament though," he added, "then we can pick out a trailer together."

...

"She's good," Hunapo noted as they and Oscar watched Charlie jump from her horse and bound over to the goat she'd roped, trying its legs together with the air of a professional, from a lifetime of studying her brothers. Once done, she threw her arms in the air and beamed at her fantastic score of exactly eight seconds.

Oscar half-heartedly clapped as she bowed to the families watching from being the paddock fence, wondering who would be the next in the family to end up as ashes and praying to a God he didn't believe in it wouldn't be her.

...

Man I get too deep into giving the ocs made just for this fic [relatives, competitors etc.] their life stories and personalities like damn I should draw them all too. And it's not just for them, but other fics too. Might have to go through and draw them all. Funny enough, the Cooper and Jones' parents seem to change from fic to fic, but Hunapo has the same damn parents each fic loosely based off my auntie and uncle. I should probably draw their sisters too. They have two, right?

For some reason, though I can see Alfred talking all fast-paced and emotive, Sam to me seem more like a slow drawl-er with a more Southern accent. I also imagine her having some slight similarity to Jessie from huniepop. And having her call Arthur 'honeybuns' made me feel unclean for some reason.

Also I'm sorry to say the ending of this just got sadder. Nothing major has changed, I just decided to make it include 30% more arseholery. And that's not a euphemism for anything. It also means that once again the ending has almost doubled in chapter length to fit all the sad.

And yeah, another filler backstory chapter, and a bit of side-plot. The action will devilishly pick up next chapter though, mwahaha.