August 1867

"Tolbert, ya can't live on your own," Jim sighed. "Not yet, anyways."

"People my age are gettin' married, Jim. I think I can live on my own wit' my little brother," Tolbert retorted.

Sally and Ran'l had gotten killed in a terrible wagon accident. From what Tolbert had understood from the very brief explanation that had been blurted and a little difficult to understand, a wheel had broken or something like that and it had ended horribly for their parents.

"Tolbert, who do ya know that's your age n got married?"

"I didn't say I know anybody my age that got married! I said that there are people my age gettin' married. I can take care of him, I know I can."

Jim shot him a wary look. He wasn't sure about his thirteen-year-old brother living on his own with their two-year-old brother. But Tolbert was standing his ground — he knew he could do it.

"Alright," Jim conceded. "I'm gonna take these two home. You will stay here, in this cabin. Understood?"

"Yeah, Jim. Thank ya," Tolbert beamed at him.

"You're welcome. I'll be back t'morrow t' help in the fields. Lord knows it takes more than one of us t' tend to 'em."

"A'ight. Hey, Jim?"

"Yeah, baby?" Jim turned to face him again.

"Love ya."

"Love ya too."

—

Tolbert had found everything that belonged to his younger siblings and sorted through it, putting their belongings in their chests that would be picked up the next day. The girls were living with Aunt Betty and Calvin and Pharmer were living with Jim. Tolbert left Bud's chest where it was, as the boy wasn't going to go anywhere since he was living with him.

Tolbert had moved his own chest to the room across the hallway. He figured it would be best to try to adapt to their new life as quickly as possible. It was different for all of them. Bud would have his own room now, one that belonged to him and him alone. Tolbert had always wanted his own room, and now that he had it, he didn't want it. He hadn't wanted his parents to die and their family to split up.

He wiped at his eyes before he left the room, lifting his baby brother and carrying him downstairs, as the boy could barely get up and down them without hurting himself.

"Whaddaya say we have some soup for supper t'night?"

Bud nodded mutely, laying his head on Tolbert's shoulder. Tolbert planted a soft, tender kiss on his temple, setting him down at the table.

"We're gonna be alright," Tolbert forced a smile. "We'll make it through this, baby."

"P'omise?" Bud mumbled.

"Yeah, baby. I promise."

—

Tolbert had dreaded going to Sunday meeting that week. He knew what it would be the instant the service was over, and he really didn't want to listen to it.

But he went anyway, Bud on his hip as they exited the church house, the little boy barely awake as he'd hardly slept a wink the night before. Tolbert forced a small smile as he shook Reverend Garrett's hand.

"Tolbert, are ya sure ya wanna raise him on your own?" Reverend Garrett questioned.

"Yes, Reverend, I'm sure."

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask me. I'll do my best t' help ya."

"Mighty kind of ya, Reverend. I'm sure we'll be fine, though."

"Alright. Take care."

Tolbert nodded and descended the few stairs, heading toward the tree his horse was tethered to. He hadn't even bothered with the wagon — it was just him and Bud, and Bud was still small enough to ride with Tolbert, so there was no need to hitch up the wagon.

"My God, can ya believe Jim let Tolbert keep Bud? He's gonna let that rude, ill-mannered, hot-headed boy raise that innocent child!"

"Well, Betty didn't do nothin' 'bout it either. Ya can't blame it all on Jim — he took two of the boys."

Tolbert sighed and shook his head. It was expected, if he was to be honest. He'd expected the church women to disapprove of his decision to keep Bud and raise him as his own. They'd never liked him and he didn't really know why.

But Tolbert loved Bud more than anything in the world. He'd never let anything happen to him and he'd do his best to raise him to be a good person.

"Tol'ert, can we go home?" Bud murmured sleepily.

"Yeah, baby," he nodded slightly. "We can go home."

—

February 1868

Bud had felt poorly for the last two days. Tolbert really didn't think anything of it — he hadn't seemed to feel any worse than he usually did when he got sick, so he'd ordered him to stay inside while he tended to the chores.

Tolbert huffed as he shuffled in, shivering as he closed the door. Bud was sitting at the table, his arms folded with his head resting on top of them.

"Baby?" Tolbert's brows furrowed as he walked over to him. "Ya a'ight?"

"Don't feel good," he moaned, raising his head as Tolbert crouched down. He blinked owlishly as Tolbert placed the back of his hand on his forehead, his eyes closing. Tolbert's cold hand felt nice against his hot, clammy skin.

"My God, yer burnin' up," Tolbert breathed. "Let's put yer nightshirt on ya. Ain't no sense ya runnin' 'round dressed like this when yer home."

He lifted the boy, who tucked his head in the crook of Tolbert's neck, allowing his older brother to carry him upstairs to his room. Tolbert set him on the bed before moving and opening the chest at the foot of the bed, digging through it and pulling out Bud's nightshirt.

He returned and unbuttoned Bud's shirt, his eyes landing on a rash on the boy's chest. Fear seized Tolbert's heart as he undressed the boy, carrying on in a normal conversation with him. Tolbert didn't mind talking with him; it assured him that he was okay.

Pulling Bud's nightshirt over his head, Tolbert turned his head toward the door when he heard someone come up the stairs.

"Bert? Ya up here?" Jim called out.

"In here! Give me a second." Returning his focus to Bud, he tucked the boy in and grabbed the clothes he'd changed out of before assuring him he'd be back in a moment or two. He stepped out of the room and closed the door, his eyes meeting Jim's. "Downstairs, please."

Jim nodded and followed his little brother down the stairs, looking at him strangely.

"What's goin' on, Tol?"

"Where's the boys?"

"With Aunt Betty. Why?"

"I need ya t' do me a favor," Tolbert's voice was barely above a whisper. "Bud's got this rash on his chest an' he's burnin' up. I need ya t' fetch Doc for me."

"A'ight. I'll be back as soon as I find him."

Relief flooded Tolbert's features.

"Thank ya."

—

Jim didn't return until the next day. Tolbert had told Doc Rutherford where Bud was and the man had immediately headed for the stairs.

"I'm so sorry, it took me a while t' find him. I can't remember who just had a baby, but that was where he was. I didn't find him 'til he rode int' town late yesterday evenin'. It was too dark by then t' try t' get back," Jim explained briefly. "Bud alright?"

"He's worse than he was when ya left," Tolbert answered honestly. "I've been tryin' t' make him comfortable. He's absolutely miserable. I jus' hope I caught it in time, Jim. I don't know how I didn't see it when he started complainin' 'bout not feelin' good."

"Hey, it's okay. Bud's gonna be okay. I don't know much 'bout scarlet fever, but I know that he ain't had it long an' that ya caught it pretty quick. He didn't have a rash the last time I saw him."

Tolbert hummed softly.

"I don't know how I missed it when I dressed him yesterday mornin'. Guess I wasn't payin' much attention to it."

"Maybe not. But Tolbert, children Bud's age get poorly all the time. Ya can't take the blame for this; it's nothin' but a sickness. He coulda caught it from anybody."

"I know. But Jim, he could lose his hearin' or his sight, or he could die on me. I can't lose him. I jus' can't lose him, Jim," he confessed, a few tears escaping onto his face.

Jim shot him a sympathetic look. He knew Tolbert had been taking it hard; he was still grieving their parents and Jim wasn't sure if the thirteen-year-old could handle losing his three-year-old brother, who happened to be the one person that had willingly attached himself to Tolbert's hip. Tolbert loved him as though he was his own child, even though their parents hadn't been dead long.

Tolbert had let his guard down.

He'd let his guard down around him and he'd grown to love him more than he already had when he dove headfirst into a situation he didn't know anything about. But he was doing his best with it, raising Bud the best he could, and he found he rather enjoyed the little boy's company. Bud was one that was eager to learn and Tolbert didn't mind teaching him, so long as it was nothing dangerous.

Jim knew that, as Tolbert had admitted it to him a few days ago, and he knew how badly it was affecting him. Jim wasn't sure Tolbert would even correct Bud if he ever called him Poppy instead of Tolbert. He knew that it would happen eventually; Bud was two when they died, he wouldn't remember them long.

"Tolbert, can I talk to ya for a minute?" Doc requested, standing near the staircase. Tolbert nodded and made his way over to him.

Jim sighed and leaned against the counter. He knew that Tolbert would eventually tell Bud everything that had happened, but he wasn't sure he'd stop him from calling him Poppy. Jim had never seen anyone love another human being as much as Tolbert loved Bud. He was thirteen and he was playing the role of a father, and he was doing quite well with it, in Jim's opinion.

Or at the very least, he was doing better than him. Calvin and Pharmer were constantly asking for Ran'l and Sally and Jim was struggling to make them understand that they wouldn't be coming back.

Tolbert shuffled back to him, his brows pinched together.

"He's got scarlet. Doc's gonna cut his arm n let him bleed a little. Bloodletting. Said it's the only way t' cure it. And since Bud fought him so much while he was up there examinin' him, he's gonna give him a sedative. Said he can't safely do it if Bud's gonna fight him like that."

"But he'll be alright?" Jim pressed.

"Doc said he'd let me know after he gets it done."

Jim nodded slightly.

It was silent for a few moments. It was a solemn silence that neither one of them liked, but one that they didn't dare to break, either. The silence seemed to envelope the cabin with a heavy feeling added on to it, making it worse.

Doc came downstairs, motioning to Tolbert, who followed him up the stairs. They stopped in front of Bud's room.

"I'm sure he'll be fine in a day or two. The fever should break then. But Tolbert, it's not gonna go away without leavin' its mark on him," Doc informed him, his voice barely above a whisper.

"What d'ya mean by that?" Tolbert's brows furrowed in confusion.

"He's gone deaf in his right ear, Tolbert."

"Oh..." he breathed. "But you're sure he'll be okay? He's not gonna die on me?"

"No, he's not gonna die on ya. Jus' keep him away from Sunday meetin' this week. He's gonna be just fine, Tolbert."

"Thank ya, Doc."

"Think nothin' of it, Tolbert. Will ya be alright here on your own with him?"

"Yeah, of course," he nodded swiftly. "We git along jus' fine on our own."

"A'ight. If he ain't no better by Sunday, send for me."

"Yes, sir."

—

Tolbert had gone to his room after Doc and Jim left. He'd cried and sobbed, trying to convince himself that he couldn't stay there. He had to be there for Bud when he woke up.

So he got up and sniffled, grabbing a shirt out of his chest before he left the room. Once Bud woke up, he'd give him a bath and dress him in Tolbert's shirt. Bud liked wearing them, for whatever reason he had, and Tolbert would do his very best to bring him some joy as he was sure the boy wouldn't be too happy when he woke up.

Tolbert dreaded it. He dreaded the moment Bud would realize he couldn't hear in his right ear. He didn't know how he would react, but he knew it wouldn't be good. Tolbert couldn't see an outcome for this situation that was good.

He was going to have to work through this on top of everything else that had been thrust upon him six months ago. He'd gone from being Bud's older brother to being his father — for lack of a better term — and he was raising the boy to the best of his ability. And now... well, now it was a new challenge. He was going to have to figure out how to help Bud adapt to it.

Sitting down on the edge of Bud's bed, he gently pulled his fingers through the boy's thick locks of honey-brown hair. Tolbert exhaled deeply, knowing that he'd have a lot to deal with once Bud woke up.

—

Tolbert sighed as he knelt beside the tub, covering Bud's eyes as he dumped water over his head. He knelt on the left side so Bud could hear him, smoothing the boy's hair back before grabbing the soap.

"Why don't it work no more?" Bud asked softly, his hazel eyes flicking up and meeting Tolbert's.

"Well, I don't rightly know, Buddy. All I know's that scarlet fever did somethin' to it an' ya can't hear in that ear anymore," Tolbert responded as he started to wash Bud's hair. "But it's okay. It's gonna take a while, but you'll get used to it. We'll jus' make sure ya can hear us, darlin'."

"Mkay. Will it work 'gain?"

"'Fraid not, baby. It's not gonna work again."

Bud sniffled.

Tolbert's heart broke for him. At the age of three, Bud had lost both of his parents and he was deaf in his right ear. Tolbert's heart broke a little more when he realized it wouldn't take Bud long to forget their parents — he'd been two when they died, after all, and Tolbert wasn't sure what he was going to do about that.

Tolbert covered Bud's eyes again.

"Close yer eyes. Just in case."

Bud did as he was told. Tolbert rinsed his hair, Bud scowling as he did so. Bud looked at Tolbert after he'd rinsed his hair, blinking a few times before allowing his eyes to scan his older brother's face.

"Why're ya starin' at me?" Tolbert asked plainly, but not unkindly.

"Dunno," he shrugged innocently. "Y' look kinda sad, Tol'ert."

"I am," Tolbert murmured. "I've got a lotta things t' be sad about, baby. But don't you worry none about it. Let's getcha outta the tub, get ya dressed, then we'll get ya somethin' t' eat. How's that sound?"

"Okay."

"And hey," Tolbert hooked a finger under his chin, pressing his forehead against Bud's. "Don't do anythin' t' your bad ear. Don't hit it or anythin' like that; it won't help none. Okay?"

"Mkay, Tol'ert. I won't hit it."

"Good. I love you."

"I love ya too."

—

March 1868

Tolbert had allowed Bud to play in the churchyard while he talked with Jim, who held Pharmer on his hip. Apparently, the four-year-old had kept Jim up all night and now he wanted to sleep, which apparently wasn't going to happen since Jim kept poking him to wake him.

Tolbert watched Bud run after Calvin, barely able to keep up with his older brother that was two years his senior. He shook his head with a quiet laugh, turning back to Jim for a second.

"Might wanna get Bud, Tol. He's gonna end up runnin' int' them," Jim told him.

He turned back, seeing that Bud was a little too close to the women that he tried to avoid at all costs. Tolbert jogged over, but he didn't make it in time, as the boy had been laughing at something and had stumbled, hitting Mrs. White. Tolbert grimaced and picked him up, making sure he was okay.

"You are not qualified t' be raisin' a child, Tolbert McCoy!" Mrs. White exploded. Tolbert didn't say anything; he just stood there and took the verbal assault. "Ya shouldn't even be around that boy, let alone be raisin' him! He's gonna end up bein' as ill-mannered, hot-headed, and rude as you are! It's a shame that such an innocent child is goin' t' be ruined by you."

"Well, heck, why weren't ya here last week, Tolbert?" another spoke up.

"Bud was poorly last week," he answered curtly.

"That's no excuse. The boy should be raised in church."

"Doc told me t' keep him home. I doubt ya'd be happy if I brought him here when he was recoverin' from scarlet fever."

"Scarlet fever?" Mrs. White shot him a look. "I find it hard t' believe."

"You might, but he don't. Say all ya want about me, I don't care, but ya leave him outta it. He ain't done nothin' to you an' he's got enough goin' on without you constantly gossipin' about him an' criticizin' him."

"What could a three-year-old possibly have goin' on?" she scoffed.

Bud poked Tolbert's cheek before he had the chance to answer, winning his older brother's attention.

"What'd ya do that for?" Tolbert softened his voice, brushing the boy's hair out of his eyes.

"I wanna go home," he mumbled.

"A'ight, Buddy. We'll go home." He returned his attention to the ladies for a moment, forced a smile, and said, "Have a nice day."

—

Tolbert didn't know why he'd let their Aunt Martha talk him into coming over for dinner. He didn't know why he hadn't expected Sam and Paris to be there as well, but he hadn't, and he'd agreed to let Bud play with them.

"Be careful now, ya hear?" Tolbert shot him a look. Bud only nodded before joining his cousins.

Tolbert sighed before going inside, finding Martha almost instantly. She smiled and greeted him, then realized that Bud wasn't with him.

"He's out there with the boys. Hope they don't say anythin' 'bout his ear. I've never done anythin' like this, Aunt Martha. I can't even let him play with Calvin after church anymore!"

"Why not?"

"He stumbled, hit Miss White's leg 'fore I could get to him. With the way she acts, ya'd think I was the Devil. Says I'm gonna ruin him, that I'm not... not qualified t' raise him. She said he was gonna be as ill-mannered, hot-headed, and as rude as I am. Didn't b'lieve me when I said he was recoverin' from scarlet last week. They act like I wanted them t' die. I didn't want them t' die!"

Martha pulled the boy into a tight embrace, letting him cry into her shoulder. She'd heard about how Tolbert wasn't letting himself grieve in front of Bud, that he was keeping it all bottled up and wouldn't allow himself to grieve his parents. Tolbert was a thirteen-year-old boy that had taken it upon himself to raise his baby brother.

She wasn't sure if it was because he felt like he had to or because he wanted to, but she knew that Tolbert was doing his best with it while he tried to hide his grief and how much he was struggling.

Tolbert clung to her, whimpering quietly as tears rolled down his face. Martha shushed him and rubbed his back comfortingly. He fought to regain his composure, mumbling his apologies. Martha assured him that it was fine, that he needed to let himself cry. Tolbert shook his head and took a step back.

"'M okay," he forced out, wiping at his eyes. "I promise I'm okay, Martha."

Martha gave him a skeptical look. She doubted he was okay, but she wouldn't press the matter if he didn't want to talk about it.

"No! No, s'op it! S'op it!"

Tolbert's brows furrowed as he looked at Martha before he turned and ran outside, finding that Bud was surrounded by their cousins, who was hitting the little boy's ear and yelling into it. He heard one of them make a remark about his ear and his anger multiplied by a tenfold.

"HEY!" Tolbert shouted, startling all four of them. He made his way over to them, Bud scrambling to his feet and hiding behind Tolbert's leg. "What do ya think yer doin'?!"

"We was jus' tryin' t' fix it," Sam shrugged innocently.

"Ya can't fix it. He's gone deaf in that ear, don't ya understand that?! Ya bunch of morons better quit makin' fun of him n doin' him like that. It can easily happen t' you too. All it takes is catchin' scarlet or somethin' like it. And if I ever hear any of ya makin' fun of him, or hittin' him in the ear like that, I swear to ya, ya won't be able t' sit for a month. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir, Tolbert," Jefferson stammered. Sam and Paris nodded in agreement.

"C'mon, Bud. Let's get inside."

He guided the little boy toward the front porch, allowing him to grasp his hand while they walked. Tolbert waited patiently for Bud to climb the few stairs, huffing in amusement when he reached the top and looked up at him, beaming.

"Whaddaya say we make sure them knuckleheads didn't hurt ya none before we do somethin' fun?"

"Mkay, Tol'ert," he agreed. "T'ank ya."

"Yer welcome, baby. C'mon, in ya get."

He gently smacked the back of Bud's head, letting him enter the cabin first.

—

"Hey, you! I wanna know what ya did t' Sam, Paris, an' Jefferson. They won't even look at Bud," Jim laughed as he approached Tolbert, who was sitting on the front porch of his home.

"Who says I did anything?" Tolbert smirked in amusement as Jim sat down beside him.

"Tolbert, I know you. Ya said somethin' to 'em," Jim shot him a look.

"A'ight, so a couple of weeks ago, they thought it'd be a good idea t' try t' "fix" Bud's ear. They were hittin' it, yellin' into it, makin' fun of him. So I told 'em they'd best stop 'cause it could easily happen t' them an' that if I ever find out they do anythin' like it again, they won't sit down for a month."

Jim burst into laughter, Tolbert watching Pharmer as he gently shoved Bud, knocking the boy to the ground. Bud had somehow managed to grab on to Pharmer's shirt and take him down with him, Pharmer letting out a shriek. Tolbert couldn't help but laugh at them.

"And what's this 'bout the gossipy busybodies?" Jim managed to get out between laughs.

"Ah, they've been talkin' 'bout me again. T' me, they made it out like I wanted them t' die. I didn't want 'em t' die, Jim."

Tolbert's mood became solemn, as did Jim's.

"I know ya didn't, baby," Jim grasped Tolbert's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "None of us did. If we had the choice, we'd have our parents here with us, wouldn't we?"

"Yeah," Tolbert nodded without hesitation. "Mama'd know what t' do, how t' help him get used t' the way his ear is now. I don't know what I'm doin'. I'm just... I'm tryin' my best t' figure it all out. 'S hard, Jim."

"I know it is. I've got two of 'em. They remember them, it's hard tellin' them that they're not gonna come back. I hate havin' that conversation with 'em. I can't make them understand that Mama n Poppy aren't gonna come back," Jim admitted, voice thick with emotion. "They — they get these mean streaks where they won't do a thing I say. Never lay a hand on 'em, though, 'cause they jus' tell me I ain't Mama or Poppy n they ain't gonna do somethin' they don't tell them to."

"It's a challenge, huh?"

"Yeah, honey, it's a challenge," he chuckled breathlessly. "But we're slowly gettin' used t' the way it is now. They're little angels most of the time. It's just when they get those mean streaks in 'em an' they don't listen... but we're workin' on it. They're gettin' better 'bout listenin' t' me."

"Bud ain't had a mean streak yet. He does what I tell him to, so I've got that goin' for me at least. I don't even know if he still r'members them. He never says anythin' 'bout 'em."

"Ya gonna ask him?" Jim turned his head toward Tolbert.

"No. I'm too scared t' do that. Scared he might start askin' questions I can't answer. If he remembers them, he'll talk about it eventually."

"An' what're ya gonna do if he thinks you're Poppy?" Jim asked softly.

"I don't know, I haven't really thought about it. I mean, it's crossed my mind a time or two, but with ev'rythin' that's happened, I ain't had the time t' think all this through. Lord knows I love that boy more than anythin' in this world, won't ever lie to him. I've gotta figure out a way t' say it where it'll make sense to him if he ever does say that. Right now, I'm still Tol'ert."

Jim couldn't help but laugh at the way Tolbert mispronounced his own name. He knew that was how the three youngest boys still said it. Tolbert clearly didn't mind it; he let them call him whatever they wanted to.

"What?" Tolbert laughed.

"Nothin', Tol'ert," Jim said teasingly.

"Ah, shut up!"

The two laughed, watching the children run around the yard. Seeing Bud tackle Calvin, Jim shot Tolbert a wary look.

"Should we stop 'em?"

"Did Poppy ever stop us when we were fightin'?" Tolbert retorted.

"No. Not unless it got kinda bad."

"Then that's how we'll do it. Not like they can really hurt each other, Jim."

"Alright."

—

October 1869

Tolbert's eyes flicked up and met Jim's, the two of them trying to harvest the crops while keeping the boys close to them.

"Bud, honey, no," Tolbert chuckled, bending down to show him how to tie the bundles together, as Bud had insisted on doing something to help. "Look, like this."

Tolbert showed him again, the little boy nodding to show he understood as Tolbert tossed the bundle with the other ones off to the side.

"Here ya go, try again, baby."

Tolbert went back to harvesting, ignoring the look Jim was giving him. He had more important things to worry about than his older brother shooting him a look.

"Like that, Poppy?" Bud spoke up.

Tolbert, who hadn't fully processed what the boy said, glanced down at him.

"Yeah, Buddy. Like that."

"Uh... Bert," Jim murmured, his face pinched.

"What?" Tolbert looked up at him.

"Did you... not hear what he called you?"

"Yeah, he called me Pop—oh no. I'll take care of it later. Right now, we gotta try t' finish this."

Jim nodded, knowing that Tolbert was trying to put it off as long as he could. He couldn't blame him; he wouldn't want to have that conversation either. Especially not with a four-year-old boy who thought he was his father.

—

Tolbert sighed as he carried Bud to his room, tossing him onto the bed and earning a giggle. He swallowed thickly as he sat down on the bed, trying to figure out how he was going to explain it to a four-year-old.

"Do it 'gain, Poppy!" Bud put his hands on his shoulder, still giggling.

"I need t' talk to ya first, baby."

Bud's brows furrowed as he moved to where he sat on Tolbert's lap, peering up at him curiously.

"So... so, uh, y-ya seem t' think that I'm Poppy, and I'm not. I'm not Poppy."

"Yes, y' are."

"No, I'm not. Poppy's gone t' Heaven with Mama."

"Poppy? You're Poppy."

"No, I'm not Poppy. Poppy's not here anymore."

"Why not?"

"'Cause he died not too long ago. It's been a little over two years since he died. Poppy went t' Heaven with Mama. You're here on Earth with me. I'm just your older brother, baby. I'm not Poppy."

"Oh... so's what's I call ya?"

"Tolbert. Tol. Somethin' like that."

"Oh, okay, Tol'ert."

"We'll work on it," Tolbert chuckled breathlessly, kissing his temple. Bud grinned up at him before he laid his head against Tolbert's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.

—

August 1874

"Hey, be careful!" Tolbert called out, hoping the little boy heard him as he ran off with their brothers.

"Ya can't keep him safe forever, Tolbert," Jim laughed as he approached him, clapping a hand on his little brother's shoulder.

"I can try," Tolbert retorted, leaning against the wagon. "Hard t' believe he's gonna be ten in a few months. 'S been seven years since Mama n Poppy died. I really miss 'em, Jim."

"I know, I miss 'em too. I can't believe the boys barely remember who they are. They'll forget 'bout 'em by the time they turn fourteen."

"Bud's already forgot 'em. 'S hard t' explain to him why we have t' keep the cemetery cleared. I wish there was a way he didn't forget. He loved Poppy so much."

"He did, didn't he?" Jim smiled softly. "Reckon he was Poppy's boy, huh? We all know you was Mama's fav'rite."

"I was not," Tolbert rolled his eyes, playfully smacking his older brother. "It's a real shame they won't remember 'em, though. They were such good people."

"That's why they've got us. We're the ones that'll tell 'em about 'em."

"Reckon so," Tolbert murmured.

"Not meanin' t' change the subject, but I haven't heard anythin' said about ya lately. Have they finally stopped?"

"I dunno. I don't really pay any attention to 'em anymore. I focus on the child I'm raising, not the women who haven't liked me my entire life."

Jim snorted and shook his head.

"Be nice, Tolbert."

"That was bein' nice."

Jim suppressed a laugh, watching his younger brother bite down on his lip. He knew that Tolbert was thinking, and he wasn't so sure he wanted to know what he was thinking about.

Tolbert's eyes flicked up when he heard what sounded like Bud, his eyes immediately landing on him as he was dragged in Tolbert's direction by Mrs. White. Tolbert tried to remain calm, tried to give her the benefit of the doubt that she had a reason for it. But he knew Bud better than anyone else and he knew the boy wouldn't ever do something that would result in that.

Bud was released from the woman's grasp. He immediately hid behind Tolbert, his hands grasping the fabric of Tolbert's shirt.

"That boy is as shameless and rude as you are, Tolbert McCoy! Why I've never been so insulted in my life! You aren't capable of raising a child properly! I pity any girl who wants to court him when he's older. If he's anything like you, I doubt that will happen, though."

Tolbert's blood boiled.

"Bud's anything but shameless and rude. I don't know what he said or did, but it don't give ya a right t' drag him over here the way ya did. It don't give ya the right t' say what ya said neither. He's got it hard enough as it is, he don't need you addin' to it."

"How could he possibly have it hard?" she scoffed.

"He lost his parents when he was two. He lost his hearin' in his right ear when he was three. It's pretty dang hard on him. I do my best with it, a'ight? I don't need you or anyone else stickin' yer nose in my business. Maybe if ya stopped actin' like yer better than everyone in the valley, people would take what ya say seriously and not disregard it as gossip."

"Well, I see where he got his tongue! You're going to ruin that boy, Tolbert. Ya should've let someone else raise him."

"But I didn't," Tolbert snapped harshly. "Ya ever think that maybe, just maybe, ya might be wrong? I'm doin' the best I can, I'm tryin' t' figure it out day by day. I'm not gonna let anybody take him from me. He's all I've got, I ain't gonna lose him 'cause of what you n the rest of the women just like ya think."

Mrs. White harrumphed before storming off, leaving an irritated Tolbert with a frightened Bud and an amused Jim. Tolbert turned around, crouching in front of Bud.

"What happened, baby?" Tolbert softened his tone, brushing Bud's honey-brown hair out of his eyes.

"I — I accidentally bumped into her. She was wearin' a funny hat n I asked her why she was wearin' it. 'S all I did, Tolbert, I swear."

"Well, jus' don't talk to her no more. It ain't worth the trouble, darlin'. She hurt ya?"

"Not too bad. She jus' kinda held ont' my arm real tight."

"I'll look at it when we get home. You a'ight?"

"Mhm," he nodded slightly.

"Good. I'm sorry, baby. If I'd known she was gonna wear a funny hat, I woulda told ya not t' talk t' her 'fore we left."

That coaxed a giggle out of Bud, Tolbert smiling softly and planting a kiss on the boy's cheek.

"Go on now, find the boys n play with 'em."

Bud took off, Tolbert standing upright with a sigh. He caught sight of Jim grinning out of the corner of his eye.

"What?" he demanded, tugging on the hem of his sleeve.

"He's got you wrapped around his little finger," Jim smirked. "I thought I was gonna have t' hold ya back for a minute there."

"Oh, shut up," Tolbert grumbled, pulling his fingers through his ginger curls. "He's goin' through enough without her addin' to it. I don't like that woman. Never have n likely never will."

"Oh, ignore her. Don't let what she says eat you up, Bert. You're doin' a fine job raisin' him."

"Reckon it's all a matter of opinion."

"Hey." Jim stopped him from tugging his sleeve again. "You're doin' great with him. Don't listen t' her. Ya need that boy just as much as he needs you, an' there ain't nobody that's gonna try t' take him away from ya. I've got yer back, Tolbert. Ya've done good with him; he's a good boy, Tol. That's yer doin'."

"Nah. He's jus' got a heart made of gold," Tolbert murmured. "I worry for him. It'd be easy t' hurt 'im."

"They learn what they're taught. He had t' learn from someone, meaning you, 'cause you're the only one he coulda learned it from. Ya've got a good heart, Tolbert. Don't be so dagon hard on yourself."

Tolbert grunted. He didn't know how else to express the way he felt. He'd never thought that she would make a remark about Bud. He was an innocent child that made an innocent remark about a hat she'd been wearing.

But Tolbert wouldn't argue with Jim. Jim was his older brother and he really wasn't in the mood to argue, so he'd leave it at that. Tolbert didn't think he had a good heart, but he wasn't going to argue with him. He had a feeling his response (if you could call it a response) had given Jim the impression that he felt that way, but he didn't care. Tolbert was more concerned about Bud.

"Tol, I know ya got it in yer head that ya ain't a good person with a good heart, but ya are. Yer a very good person with a heart of gold. No one else would do all that ya've done for that boy over there."

"If ya say so," Tolbert shrugged half-heartedly. "Ain't like it matters much anyways. I can't change the way I am. Believe me, Jim, I've tried my hardest t' change the way I am. I don't like it. I try not t' lose my temper with Bud, but it's so hard. 'Specially in days that 're jus' terrible in every way an' I get mad real easy. I hate that he's gotta put up with that, but I need him. I really need him, Jim."

"I know ya do. He needs you, Tolbert. No one else woulda helped him the way you did when he lost hearin' in his bad ear. He really needs you, baby. I couldn't see him livin' with anyone but you."

"I dunno, Jim," Tolbert muttered uncertainly. "There's a lotta times I think he woulda been better off without me. I'm a mess, he don't need someone like me."

"Yeah, he does. He won't even stay at my place, Tolbert, he wants t' be with you. He don't want anyone but you."

"Never thought I'd be raisin' a child when I was twenty, but he's a good one. He's perfect the way he is, I don't want him no other way. Bad ear n all."

"Oh God, now ya sound like a proud poppy," Jim groaned exasperatedly, earning a laugh from Tolbert. "Ya've had him for seven years, Tolbert."

A wistful smile appeared on Tolbert's face.

"Seven years... It's almost ridiculous t' think that," Tolbert stated softly. "I'm gonna have t' go tend to the cemetery again. It needs it."

"Worry about that t'morrow. Right now, have fun."

Tolbert huffed in amusement and shook his head. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to have a little fun.

—

"Shirt off, Buddy. Let's make sure she didn't hurt ya too bad."

Bud took his shirt off and allowed his older brother to examine his right arm. Tolbert gently ran his fingertips over the boy's upper arm, as that was how she'd grabbed him and dragged him over to Tolbert, and sighed in relief. It was bruised, but there was nothing more than that to worry about.

"Just a bruise," Tolbert assured him with a smile. "You wanna sleep in one of my shirts t'night?"

"Please," Bud murmured. Tolbert stood and moved to the foot of the bed, opening the chest and grabbing a blue shirt. He handed it to Bud, who thanked him before changing into it.

"Ya sleepin' in here t'night?"

"Y' don't care?" Bud blinked, padding over to his older brother, who had taken off his shirt.

"No, I don't care, darlin'. Why would I?"

"I dunno. Figured y' might think 'm too old t' sleep in here wit'cha."

"You'll never be too old t' sleep in here if ya want to," Tolbert told him, pulling off his undershirt.

"Mean it?" Bud leaned against his leg, peering up at him innocently.

"Yeah, I mean it. Ya can sleep in here if ya want to, I don't care how old ya are. I ain't gonna tell ya no. You're like my baby," Tolbert teased lightheartedly, scratching his scalp. Bud giggled.

Tolbert got in bed, watching his baby brother climb on it and move beside him. Tolbert laid down and adjusted the blanket, letting Bud curl up against him.

"Tol... will ya tell me 'bout them?" Bud requested, shifting slightly to get more comfortable.

"Mama n Poppy?" Tolbert queried, just to make sure he was correct with his assumption.

"Mhm."

"Yeah, baby. I'll tell ya 'bout 'em."

—

November 1876

Bud knew, logically, that he shouldn't have believed what the women Tolbert always avoided said to him. Yet he couldn't stop himself from believing it. He couldn't help but believe that Tolbert didn't want or need him, that he didn't love him, and that he was only taking care of him because he felt like he had to.

It had dampened the boy's good mood and now, sitting beside Tolbert as he drove them home, he wished that everything was different.

"Are you alright?" Tolbert questioned, glancing at him.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno. Yer awful quiet."

"Jus' don't feel like talkin'," Bud murmured lamely, giving a half-hearted shrug.

Tolbert's eyes flicked over to him again, sighing at the expression on the boy's face. He wasn't sure why Bud looked like he'd heard something terribly shocking that had shattered his heart, but Tolbert knew better than to press him on the matter. Bud was like him — he wouldn't talk until he was ready to, and the more he pressed, the more Bud would refuse to talk about it.

He'd give him a day or two before he asked again. With any luck, Bud was just in a mood and didn't want to be bothered.

—

Each year after the fall harvest, Tolbert cleared the fields to prepare for the next season. He'd been out in the fields when Bud came home from school much earlier than he was supposed to, his face reddened with his lip split and his nose bleeding. Tolbert's eyes flicked down to his hands, spotting a folded piece of paper and the boy's busted knuckles.

"An' what're you doin' home so early?" Tolbert asked nonchalantly, wiping the sweat off of his brow as he stood upright.

"She sent me home," he grumbled.

"What for?" Tolbert pressed.

"Got in a fight wit' William Hatfield," Bud huffed. "If Pharmer woulda stayed outta it, I coulda won it, too!"

"Bud, what're ya doin' gettin' in fights?"

"It wouldn't've been a fight if he woulda kept his mouth shut," Bud snapped. Tolbert blinked. He'd never had Bud snap at him like that before. "I told him t' stop n he didn't, so I punched him. Pharmer said I prob'ly broke his nose."

"Bud," Tolbert sighed tiredly. "What could Will Hatfield possibly say that would get ya so mad?"

"He kept sayin' stuff 'bout you."

"Well, I appreciate ya takin' up for me n all, but I'd prefer it if ya didn't get in trouble. C'mon, let's go clean ya up."

Tolbert wrapped an arm around his shoulders, glancing down at him. Bud's eyes flicked up and Tolbert noticed the same gleam that had been prominent the day before. Something was bothering Bud and he wasn't willing to say anything about it just yet.

Reaching the cabin, Tolbert opened the door and let him go in first. Tolbert stepped inside and closed the door, mumbling to himself under his breath as he gathered what he needed.

"You're not mad, are ya?" Bud asked nervously.

"Can't very well get mad at ya when I did the same thing," Tolbert replied. "'Cept I was eight when I did it. Jim taught me all I needed t' know n that was that. I don't think Poppy ever really found out 'bout it. He was gone t' war when it happened."

"Oh..."

"An' really, he hadn't been back very long when he died. Two years. That was how long he'd been back. Two years, five months, an' six days. When he came back... he had you. You were his baby boy n he loved ya more than anythin'. Mama always swore he was spoilin' ya, holdin' ya every time ya cried or so much as whimpered, but he didn't care what she said. I think ya kept him sane, if I'm honest with ya. He saw a lotta things he wanted to forget when he was in war."

"How ya know that?" Bud quirked a brow.

"'Cause he told me so. Sat me down right after I turned thirteen n told me all 'bout it. Told me that war changes a man n that there are diff'rent kinds of wars. Some are like the war that happened 'tween north n south, some are like these feuds that go on 'tween two or three diff'rent families. I'm thankful we ain't in no war."

"But... but wait, why can't — I don't understand, people try t' kill each other? Entire families?"

"Feudin' is diff'rent. Women usually don't get involved much, just avoid t' other's fam'ly n don't speak to 'em none, but the menfolk? Now they get involved. Fistfights, gunfights, knife fights, any type o' fight ya can think of, really. They're horrible things, Buddy. I'm real thankful we ain't involved in nothin' like that. 'M not sure we'd be able t' handle it wit'out Poppy."

"Tell me more about him," Bud said swiftly, wincing when Tolbert started to clean the wounds.

"Poppy... he was amazin', baby. Always knew exactly what t' say n what t' do, no matter what the situation was. He taught me a lotta things, even broke the tradition of waitin' 'til I was fourteen t' give me a gun. I got my first gun when I was twelve an' Poppy taught me how t' shoot it. He taught me that the right thing ain't always the easiest thing, an' that ya gotta stand up for what's right. He taught me there ain't nothin' wrong with a boy showin' his feelin's either. Boys cry jus' the same as girls do."

Tolbert gently wiped the blood off of Bud's face, his features softening as he reminisced.

"You were five months old when Poppy came home from war. My God, I won't ever forget the way he looked. I ain't ever seen Poppy look that way. His hair was real long n it was all knotted n matted, he was filthy, his clothes were torn. But it was Poppy. He'd aged a bit since the last time I'd seen him — he said the Yankees done it. I reckon they did since he'd been held in one of their prison camps.

"Mama had me take him inside while she finished up the chores. We'd left you inside 'cause ya was jus' a baby, didn't want ya gettin' hurt or anythin' like that, an' ya'd started cryin' the second the door opened. So I got ya n changed ya, then took ya over t' Poppy, who'd sat down at the table, 'bout where you're sittin' now. He cried when he held ya. Said ya was like a little angel. Poppy loved you an' you loved him. You was his fav'rite."

"Really?" Bud blinked. It was hard to fathom him being anyone's favorite.

"Mhm," Tolbert hummed, rubbing some type of ointment on his busted knuckles. "You're his namesake n his baby boy. An' God, would he be proud of ya, Buddy. Poppy'd be right proud of ya if he was still alive. So would Mama. She used t' call all of us baby. I reckon that's why I call you baby so often... It keeps her alive, in a funny sort of way."

Tolbert wrapped Bud's knuckles and sighed before he allowed his eyes to flick up and meet his baby brother's.

"They'd be right proud of ya if they were still alive, darlin'. I wish they were. Been a long nine years without 'em."

"'Cause o' me?"

"No, baby, not 'cause of you. We've worked through all this on our own, ain't we? Jus' goes t' show that we're jus' fine on our own."

"I reckon," Bud mumbled. "But my ear... when it went bad, it took s' long for ya t' figure out what t' do."

"'Cause I'd never been in that kind of situation. I didn't know what I was supposed t' do when it came t' helpin' ya get used t' yer bad ear, honey. It's not that it had anythin' t' do with you specifically, but it was a diff'rent situation that I'd never seen before. Everything I've done, in some way, goes back t' Mama n Poppy; what I remember 'bout how they raised me n the rest of our brothers and sisters. We'd never had that happen before so I had t' figure it out on my own."

"Oh. Y' ever regret raisin' me?" Bud asked timidly.

"No! Where would ya get an idea like that?" Tolbert exclaimed, eyes widened as he gazed at the boy.

"I dunno," he shrugged. "Jus' thought I'd ask."

"I don't regret raisin' you. I don't regret it at all, baby. Jim's always makin' fun of me 'cause I sound like a proud poppy every time you come up in a conversation. Ya mean the world t' me, Buddy. You might as well be my son. I ain't really your poppy, but that don't matter none. I've been a poppy to ya most of yer life. An' sure, there's been times I didn't know what the heck I was doin' an' I got scared, but I never once regretted takin' you."

"Get a awful lot of scorn 'cause of me."

"It's not you specifically. It's more the way I raise ya n what I let ya do. See, I don't care so long as ya don't start no trouble. And with what happened t'day, well, I don't think it'd do me any good t' take a belt to ya. Ya'd do it again even if I did wear you out. An' in all fairness, ya did give him a warning."

"So... so 'm not in trouble? At all?"

"No, you're not in trouble. Ya stood your ground, I'm quite proud of ya for that. I've always tried t' teach ya t' do what you think is right. Did ya think it was right when ya did it?"

"Yeah."

"Then see, I can't get mad at ya for doin' what I've told ya t' do, now can I?"

"Reckon not."

"Definitely not. I can't make a promise I won't ever get mad at ya for doin' somethin' ya think is right, but I can promise I'll do my best not t' get mad at ya. Now, what d'ya say we get somethin' t' eat 'fore headin' back out t' the fields, hm?"

Bud nodded. He could agree to that.

—

Tolbert wasn't sure why Bud was as angry as he was. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen the boy look as angry as he did now, and he was doing his best to figure out why he was angry.

"Oh my God, leave me alone!"

"All I did was ask—"

"I know what ya did! I just want t' be left alone! I hate you!"

Tolbert blinked, a sharp sting appearing in his chest. Bud stormed out, his shoulder hitting Tolbert's arm as he stormed toward the staircase. He raced up the stairs and stomped down the hall, slamming the door to his room, causing Tolbert to flinch.

Tolbert's vision blurred, leaning against the counter, a shaky breath passing through his lips. He didn't know why it hurt so much. He should've known that it was impossible for anybody to love him; Tolbert was insufferable and impossible to love. He didn't know why he thought Bud would be any different.

He sniffled and stood upright, going to his parents' room and closing the door behind him. Tolbert hadn't been in this room in years. He opened the chest he'd pushed against the wall, taking out one of his father's shirts before he made his way over to the bed, lying down on it and clutching the shirt to his chest, a sob tearing from his throat.

—

Two weeks later, Tolbert had baked Bud's favorite type of cookies. He was hoping to at least make it tolerable for Bud — he'd been told that he hated him every day that week and each day, it had gotten worse. Tolbert never cried in front of him; he tried his hardest to keep from showing that it bothered him at all.

He sighed as he pulled a loaf of bread out of the oven, his eyes flicking toward the door as it opened. Jim stepped inside, closing the door behind him as he moved toward him.

"You mind if I sit by the fire?"

"No," Tolbert responded. "Go 'head. Gotta warn ya, though, Bud should be gettin' done with his chores. Bud's been actin' diff'rent lately, but uh, it ain't necessarily a good diff'rent. I'm sorry if he... acts diff'rent than usual."

"Tolbert? Honey, you okay?"

"Fine, Jim," Tolbert waved it off.

"What d'ya mean if he acts different than usual?" Jim pressed.

"You'll see when he comes in," Tolbert said quickly. "He's just... actin' a little diff'rent lately."

"Are ya sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, Jim. Just... don't say anything when he comes in. You'll see what I mean."

Jim sighed and shifted in the chair he'd sat down in. Tolbert was acting strange and he couldn't figure out why.

Tolbert looked up as the back door opened, Bud stepping inside.

"Hey, baby. I've got some—"

"I don't care what you've got!" Bud interrupted rudely. "I hate you!"

Bud shoved Tolbert, causing him to stumble.

"I wish you woulda died instead of them!" He shoved him again, Tolbert grunting as his back hit the counter. "I hate you!"

"I know ya do, baby," Tolbert whispered.

Bud didn't say anything; he only stormed toward the staircase. Tolbert flinched when the boy slammed his door shut, sighing before he shook his head and wiped at his eyes.

"I don't know why I'm cryin'. I should be used to it by now," Tolbert laughed weakly.

"Tolbert... what the heck was that?"

"Bud. He's been that way for about two weeks now. I don't know what I did to him, I can't get him t' talk t' me! I don't know what I did, Jim."

"Hey, don't cry, it's alright," Jim rushed, getting up and hurrying over to Tolbert. He pulled him into a hug, letting his little brother cry into his shoulder.

"I don't know what I did t' him. I can't — I can't tell him he's wrong for feelin' the way he does. I can't tell him how t' feel n I've always told him it was okay t' show how he felt. I've just — I've gotta get used to it. 'S fine, he can hate me if he wants to."

Tolbert pulled away and slouched against the counter, sniffling as he tugged at his sleeves.

"Tolbert, what's goin' on? When'd he start actin' that way?"

"'Bout two weeks ago, like I said. Same day he got thrown outta school for fightin' wit' Will Hatfield."

"And ya never thought t' bring it up over the last two weeks?"

"What for? T' prove that I can't even raise a child? He hates me, that's all there is to it. I've done somethin' wrong again and he hates me."

"I dunno, Tolbert," Jim sighed heavily. "Bud's always loved you. I doubt ya could do somethin' that would make him hate you."

"Clearly I did," Tolbert retaliated, his voice taking an edge to it. "He won't even listen t' me anymore. I baked those stupid cookies hopin' I'd be able t' make him a little happy. I never shoulda took him in, I shoulda just let you take him after they died. God knows I'm not the type of person who needs t' be raisin' chil'ren."

"Tolbert, you need that boy. And he needs you. You've raised him t' be a good boy, Bert. What more do ya want?"

Tolbert shook his head and lowered his gaze, tears falling onto his pale face as he tried to suppress them.

"I don't know," he muttered quietly. "I don't want this. I don't want him screamin' that he hates me n wishes I was dead every time he sees me. I don't want him t' think he's wrong for hatin' me either. He's not. Lotta people in this valley hates me... Never thought my baby brother'd turn out t' be one of 'em."

"Tolbert, what if he don't really hate ya? What if he's just tryin' t' push ya away or hide somethin' from ya?"

"Why would he do that?! I never get mad at him! I've learned to control it around him, there's no reason for him t' hide anything from me!"

"Maybe it's not somethin' that you did. Maybe it's somethin' else, somethin' that makes him think he's got ta push ya 'way or hide it from ya."

Tolbert was still tugging on his sleeve. Jim had noticed that it seemed to be a nervous mannerism that Tolbert had. Tolbert only did it when he was distressed. And if Jim was to be honest, he'd tried everything he could think of to get Tolbert to stop pulling at his clothes. Nothing had worked, though, so Jim supposed it was something that Tolbert would do for the rest of his life.

"I don't know why. I've never given him a reason t' think he's gotta push me away from him or hide somethin' from me," Tolbert said softly, his voice trembling. "It's just... not the same anymore, Jim. Every time I try t' talk to him, he does that. Don't matter what I say to him, could be as simple as hello, he does that. An' it hurts. I've tried my dagon best t' raise him, tried t' make him a good person, tried t' keep him from hatin' me like ev'ryone else does. It didn't work."

"What're you talkin' about? Bud's a good person n he loves you."

"Nah," Tolbert shook his head. "It's alright if he hates me. I can't say I blame him for it. I've not been the person he needs."

"Tolbert—"

"I'm not the person he needs!" Tolbert shouted, cutting him off. "Don't ya sit here n lie t' me! I'm not the person Bud needs. He needs someone that's much better and more stable than me. I swear, Jim, I'm goin' crazy!"

"You're not goin' crazy. You're tired, you're stressed. Ya've been thinkin' 'bout nothin' but this for two weeks an' ya haven't told a soul about it until now. Ya've been dealin' with this on your own n it's hard on ya."

"I should be able t' deal with it on my own—"

"There's nothin' wrong with needin' help, Tolbert. Sometimes ya need help."

Tolbert looked like he was on the verge of tears again. His ice-blue eyes met Jim's, showing his older brother just how much he was hurting. While Jim could tell he was hurting by the expression on his face, his eyes held a deeper pain that made Jim's heart break for him.

Tolbert averted his gaze, biting down harshly on his lip. He couldn't tell Bud that he was wrong for feeling the way that he did; he couldn't tell Bud that it was wrong to hate him. Tolbert understood that it was practically impossible to love him, that he was the type of person people usually feared and avoided. It was just going to take him a while to get used to Bud hating him.

"What happened? What got all this started?" Jim pressed, trying to figure out why their baby brother would act such a way.

"I don't know," Tolbert whispered brokenly. "He was all mad n I asked him why he was mad, an' he bit my head off. Told me he hated me. I went in Mama n Poppy's room after he did that... hadn't been in there in years. I grabbed one of Poppy's shirts out of his chest and laid on the bed n just cried. I don't know why I'm shocked. I'm not the type of person people enjoy gettin' around."

"'Cause they don't care t' get t' know ya. You're a wonderful person, Tolbert. Ya've gotta believe me, baby. You're absolutely amazing."

"I'm not," Tolbert denied, shaking his head. "I'm terrible, I know I am. Ya just... don't understand it. Ya can never understand it. Ya've always been a good person with a good heart; never had people run from ya 'cause of what other people say 'bout ya. Yer nothin' like me, Jim. Ya wouldn't understand it."

"Tolbert, listen t' me, baby. Ya've got t' stop bein' so dagon hard on yourself. You're a good person, a good poppy. That's what ya are, Bert, you're a poppy t' that twelve-year-old boy upstairs. You are amazing. Ya only think you're terrible 'cause ya don't see yourself the way I see ya. I can't change the way ya see yourself, but ya can't change the way I see ya neither. I'm proud of the man ya turned out t' be. You're a good man, Tolbert McCoy. Ya might be hot-headed moron most of the time, but that don't mean ya ain't a good man."

Tolbert spluttered a laugh, his eyes flicking up again.

"Thanks, I reckon. Would you... mind comin' with me while I try t' talk t' him? I'm hopin' he won't lash out the way he usually does if he sees that you're here."

Jim nodded.

"Yeah, I'll go up with ya when ya try t' talk to him. Give him some time t' calm down a little first. Sit down, drink a cup of coffee or somethin'. You both need t' calm down b'fore ya even try speakin' t' each other."

Tolbert nodded mutely, grabbing a mug and the coffee pot.

"You want some coffee?" Tolbert glanced over his shoulder at Jim.

"Sure," he shrugged.

Tolbert passed him the mug in his hands and grabbed another, pouting himself a cup before he took a seat at the table.

"It wouldn't be this way if Mama n Poppy were alive," Tolbert said suddenly, causing Jim to look up at him. "It would be diff'rent. If Mama n Poppy were alive, I wouldn't've got around him at all. He don't need someone like me, Jim."

"That boy up there wouldn't know what t' do without ya, Tolbert. He trusts you. He loves you more than anyone else. He won't even stay at my place, Bert. He wants t' be here with you."

"He hasn't here lately," Tolbert mumbled. "I'm tryin', Jim. I'm tryin' so hard t' do all this right, but I have no idea if it's right or wrong. I jus'... oh God, Jim, I don't know what I did wrong."

"Hey, hey, breathe, baby." Tolbert drew in a strangled breath. "There ya go. Calm down. You've gotta calm down 'fore ya go up there, Tolbert."

"A'ight. So — so how's Cal n Pharmer?"

—

Bud sniffled as he turned onto his side, pressing his good ear against his pillow. He'd gone out of his room shortly after he slammed the door and had overheard most of Tolbert and Jim's conversation.

He was making it worse.

Bud knew that he shouldn't wish Tolbert would still love him. Tolbert hated him, he knew he did. Why would they lie to him?

He wiped furiously at his eyes, bringing his hand back down and tugging at his sleeve. Bud was aware that he did it anytime he felt overwhelmed; that every time he was distressed in some way, he was tugging at his sleeve. He didn't know why he did it and he didn't care enough to figure it out. All he knew was that he kept tugging at his sleeves and his clothes no matter what the situation was.

Tolbert was the one person Bud completely depended on. He needed Tolbert more than anyone else, and he wouldn't have cared to admit it if he wasn't busy trying to push him away. Bud needed him, but he knew that Tolbert didn't want him. He only took him in because he felt like he had to.

Bud chewed on his lower lip, staring at his sleeve through bleary vision as he tugged on it. He needed to stop pulling at his clothes, he knew he did, but he couldn't make himself stop. He bit down on his lip harshly as he made a small noise in the back of his throat, his breath hitching.

What was the matter with him?

Bud gasped and jerked his head back when Tolbert crouched down in front of him. He sat up, slowly moving away from his older brother.

No, no, no, he couldn't be there. He could see Jim in his peripheral vision and wondered momentarily if Tolbert was going to throw him out. He wouldn't know what to do if Tolbert admitted that he didn't want him. Bud needed him.

But Bud wouldn't force him to get around him if he didn't want to. He'd been trying so hard to keep his distance, trying to keep Tolbert happy. He didn't want Tolbert to hate him too badly. He didn't want any of this at all, really. He wanted it to be the way it had been before he'd spoken to Mrs. White and the rest of the church women. But they knew what they were talking about, didn't they? They knew that Tolbert didn't want him, that he was taking care of him because he felt obligated to, that Tolbert didn't love him.

"Bud? Ya listenin' t' me, honey?"

He slowly nodded. He would listen to him.

Jim, standing in the doorway, noticed that Bud was tugging at his sleeve. It was the same exact thing Tolbert did and Jim let out a breath, realizing the two were more alike than he'd originally thought.

"Can I sit here?"

Bud nodded again, allowing Tolbert to sit on the edge of his bed. Tolbert sighed as he gazed at him, hesitantly reaching out and placing his hand on top of Bud's, stopping him from pulling at his sleeve. Bud's throat constricted as his gaze snapped down to the bed, deciding it would be best if he didn't look at him.

Neither one of them said anything for a moment. Tolbert was trying to figure out how to say what he wanted to say while Bud was focused on avoiding his older brother's gaze.

"Buddy... God, baby, I don't know what I did, but I'm so sorry. Will ya please tell me what I did?" Tolbert implored, cautiously taking hold of Bud's hand and rubbing the back of it with his thumb.

"'S n-not what you did," Bud forced out.

"Then what is it, Buddy? What happened?"

"Y' don't want me," he stated softly, his brows pinching together. "Y' only took me in 'cause ya felt like y' had to. Ya don't love me."

Tolbert felt like the wind had been knocked out of him as his heart shattered in his chest. How could Bud ever think something like that?

"Oh my God," he breathed, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "Where'd ya get an idea like that?"

"Mrs. White n them," Bud murmured, hanging his head low. "'S okay if ya don't. I'll try t' stay 'way n won't bother ya none."

"What? No, baby, no. Look at me." Tolbert gently grabbed the boy's face, forcing him to look at him. "None of what they said is true, Randolph McCoy, Junior. Why wouldn't I want you? You're amazing, darlin'. I've never felt like I had t' take you in — I wanted t' take you in. Ask Jim, I fought with him over ya when I first took ya in. I love ya, baby. I love ya more than I should, probably, but I don't care. You're my baby, I love you."

"'M sorry for what I said," Bud said quickly, sniffling and wiping at his nose with his sleeve. "I didn't mean it. I don't wish ya were dead!"

Bud moved and threw his arms around Tolbert's neck, burying his face in his brother's shoulder. Tolbert held him, pulling his fingers through the boy's thick locks of brunette hair, letting him cry into his shoulder.

And now that Tolbert knew why Bud had been acting the way he was, it all made sense to him. He should have known that they would have something to do with it; they'd never approved of Tolbert raising Bud, had often tried to discourage him or convince him to give Bud to someone else.

They'd often poked fun at Bud over his ear as well, as had several other people, and Tolbert never cared to tell them exactly what he thought of them when they did it. He didn't care to put them in their place when they got out of line with Bud. If they wanted to berate Bud, Tolbert would berate them.

"Hey, you're okay," Tolbert cooed, pressing a kiss to the boy's temple. "Easy, honey, easy. Ya gotta breathe."

Bud drew in a sharp, wheezing breath.

"You're okay, baby. It's alright. It's okay, shh... You're okay, Buddy."

"I—I didn't m-mean no ha-harm!"

"I know, baby. It's alright. Calm down a little, it's okay, baby. Ev'rything's okay, Bud. They have a way of convincin' ya that what they say is true. All ya had t' do was ask me, Buddy. Ya know I won't ever lie to ya."

"I didn't wanna know," he admitted, clinging tightly to Tolbert. He moved his head to Tolbert's left shoulder so he could hear him better. "I didn't — I was s' scared. I didn't wanna know."

"What makes ya think I could hate you?" Tolbert smoothed Bud's hair back, ignoring the way he blanched.

"I dunno... jus' thought ya might."

"I couldn't hate ya if I tried, Buddy. I love ya too much for that."

"I love you. I love you so much."

"Hey, it's okay. Even if ya do end up hatin' me, I'm always gonna love ya n be here for ya. 'Cause let me tell ya somethin', honey, I'm not the kinda person people like t' be around. And if ya grow up n find ya don't wanna be 'round me, that's okay. I want ya t' always be honest with me, baby. Even if it's somethin' like that. Just... please don't lie t' me."

"I won't."

"Good. I worry about ya, Bud. You didn't — you didn't get t' grow up with them like I did. You're just... God, you're different. But it's a good different. I love you."

Tolbert pressed a lingering kiss to the boy's forehead. Bud pulled his arms back and wrapped them around Tolbert's middle, shifting to get more comfortable before he nuzzled against Tolbert's neck. Tolbert chuckled softly, playing with Bud's hair.

"Please stay?" Bud peered up at him.

"Yeah, I'll stay."

"I don't wan' ya t' go," Bud muffled against Tolbert's shoulder. "I want ya t' stay here."

"I'm goin' to, baby. How 'bout we lay down, hm? I know that ain't comfortable."

Bud nodded mutely, agreeing to his idea. He moved, letting Tolbert lay down before he curled up against him, his good ear pressed to Tolbert's chest. He closed his eyes and listened to Tolbert's steady heartbeat, his arms wrapping around his middle again.

Tolbert wrapped one arm around Bud, using his free hand to rub his baby brother's cheek, watching him as he hummed and scooted as close as he could possibly get. Tolbert's eyes flicked up and met Jim's.

"Well, I think you two have worked through this squabble, so I'll be on my way," Jim remarked, smiling at the two.

"A'ight, Jim. Thank you."

"I didn't do anything. Yer the one that's his poppy."

Tolbert shot him an unamused look.

"I'll see ya later, Tolbert."

—

"Tol... d'you ever regret takin' me in?"

Tolbert looked down at the boy, yawning.

"No. Takin' you in was the best thing I've ever done, why would I regret it?"

"I dunno," he shrugged innocently. "Figured ya might. Ya didn't want a child at thirteen."

"Maybe not, but I don't regret takin' ya in. I love ya a whole lot, Buddy. I'm never gonna regret you."

"Y' sure?" he asked uncertainly.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Tolbert replied without hesitation. "You're the best thing that happened to me. Ya helped me a lot after they died. They just... they meant so much t' me an' they died so suddenly... It's the most horrible feelin' in the world, receivin' word like that. T' make it worse, the lady that told us was hard t' understand. She was talkin' real fast n it was all a stuttered mess. God, I'll never forget that."

Bud craned his neck and looked up at him, noticing that Tolbert was on the verge of tears.

"Please don't cry," Bud whispered. "I don't want ya t' cry."

"I'm not cryin'," Tolbert said swiftly, wiping at his eyes.

"Ya look like yer goin' to," Bud countered.

"I'm not. I'm okay."

"You always tell me it's okay t' not be okay."

"It's been nearly ten years, Bud. I'm fine."

"Does it ever scare ya? Things that people say to ya?" he clarified before shifting ever so slightly.

"Mhm. I've been scared the last two weeks," Tolbert admitted. "I thought I was gonna lose ya. I don't know why I didn't think of the possibility that Mrs. White had said somethin' to ya, an' I'm sorry for that. It woulda been a lot easier if I'd thought of it and brought it up."

"Don't matter none. 'S okay now."

Tolbert huffed in amusement.

"Yeah... it's okay now."

—

January 1878

"What is wrong with you?!" Tolbert shouted. "Do ya not understand that's how we're livin'?! I have t' sell the 'shine I make so we can live right now!"

"I—I'm sorry!" Bud exclaimed, his back hitting the wall. "Please don't get mad! I'm so sorry, I didn't—"

"Don't get mad?" Tolbert repeated incredulously. "I do my dagon best not t' lose my temper around you, but this is completely different! I can't make the deliveries if I don't have the 'shine t' deliver! Ya know what happens when I don't make the dang deliveries?"

Bud slowly shook his head, swallowing thickly as he watched Tolbert inch closer to him.

"It means we have no dagon money!" Tolbert slammed his hand on the table, causing Bud to flinch. "And if we don't have money, we can't live. I can't buy what we need without that money, Bud!"

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! I'll — I'll fix it, I swear I will!"

"Why didn't ya listen t' me?"

"I didn't hear ya, I swear, I didn't! Don't hurt me, please," Bud pleaded, not daring to move from his spot against the wall. "I didn't mean to, I swear. I just... I lost my balance. I'm so sorry."

"Oh, you know I ain't gonna hurt you!" Tolbert snapped. "Might want to 'cause ya blew up my dagon still, but I ain't goin' to. It's fine, we'll be fine, we'll find another way t' make money 'til I can get ev'rythin' I need t' make a new one."

"I'm so sorry," Bud whispered tearfully. "I didn't mean to."

Tolbert sighed tiredly, walking over to him and pulling him into a tight embrace.

"Don't worry about it. We'll make it. Nonono, don't cry — oh God, I didn't mean t' lose my temper with ya. I'm sorry, baby. Please don't cry. It's just... I thought ya heard me, honey. I thought ya heard me when I said t' watch out for the hole behind ya."

"I didn't, I'm sorry, I swear I'll fix it," Bud rambled nervously.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, Buddy. Breathe for me." Bud drew in a breath, biting down on his lip before he started to tug at his sleeve. "What're ya doin' that for?"

"What?"

"Pullin' your sleeve."

"I dunno, jus' a habit, I guess," Bud shrugged. Tolbert noticed how timid he was, but he didn't comment on it. Bud just needed some time to calm himself down.

He continued to tug at his sleeve, Tolbert bringing his hand up and placing it over Bud's.

"You're alright. It's okay. We'll just build a new one."

"I am so sorry," Bud whispered softly, lowering his gaze. "I didn't mean no harm. Didn't mean t' knock into it n blow it up. I'm real sorry, Tol."

"I know ya are," Tolbert assured him with a small smile. "It's a'ight. Why don't ya go on upstairs, hm? 'S been a long day for us both."

"A'ight. I'm really sorry."

"I know you are. Go on, baby, get some rest."

Bud nodded and headed toward the staircase, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He only hoped he hadn't caused too much trouble.

—

February 1878

Tolbert sighed as he placed a plate in front of Bud, seeing the boy's bewildered expression.

"What?"

"Ain't you gonna eat?"

"No, baby. I'm not very hungry right now," he forced a tight smile.

"Ya didn't eat wit' me yesterday neither. Ya said the same thing, too."

"I know. I'll eat later, I promise." Tolbert bent down and pressed a kiss to the boy's cheek. "I'm gonna go get some firewood. If ya want more an' I ain't in here, it's on the stove. I've gotta split the wood, so I'll be out for a few minutes. You alright with that?"

"Yeah," Bud nodded swiftly. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, darlin'." Tolbert ruffled the boy's hair before making his way to the door, pulling it open and stepping out into the cold winter air. He closed it and shivered, heading toward the barn so he could grab the ax before going out back to split wood.

Tolbert tried to ignore the discomfort he felt due to the pain in his stomach. He wasn't an idiot, he knew why his stomach was hurting, but he'd found a way to let Bud believe that everything was fine with them and he certainly wasn't going to ruin it when he'd just gotten the boy to stop apologizing every five minutes.

Tolbert was just going to have to deal with it until he could rebuild his still and make money again. He felt horrible for lying to Bud; Bud was the one person Tolbert never lied to. And now that he was starting to, he felt absolutely terrible for it.

He released a shaky breath, grabbing the ax before heading out back. He placed a piece of wood on the block and swung it, splitting it in half.

"Tolbert?"

Tolbert whipped around, finding Bud.

"What're you doin' out here? Yer supper's gonna get cold."

"I don't care. I... You are eatin', right?" Bud queried, pulling his coat around him tightly.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno. Ya never eat with me anymore."

"I'm just busy, Bud. I promise I'll eat later, okay?"

"But Tolbert—"

"But nothin'," Tolbert cut him off, but not unkindly. "Go on in now. I'll be in there in a minute or so."

"Okay," Bud murmured, defeated, turning and heading back inside.

—

Sunday meeting seemed longer than usual that week. Tolbert wasn't sure why, but it did, and he'd encouraged Bud to run off with Pharmer and Calvin for a little while.

Leaning against the wagon, Tolbert dragged his hand down his face, licking his chapped lips as Jim approached him.

"What's the matter with you?" Jim asked immediately.

"Whaddaya mean?" Tolbert decided to play dumb, hoping Jim would drop the subject.

"Yer awful pale. Ya feelin' poorly or somethin'?"

"No," Tolbert shook his head. "Just... didn't sleep well last night."

"Tolbert, that was a terrible lie," Jim deadpanned.

"Don't worry about it," Tolbert shook his head. "I'm a'ight."

"Ya don't look a'ight," Jim countered.

"Is there a certain way I have t' look now?" Tolbert lashed out before he thought the better of it. Realizing what he'd said, he quickly apologized. "Sorry, sorry. It was a long day yesterday n I really didn't sleep well last night."

"What's really wrong with ya? I know you, Tolbert McCoy, and this is not you."

"I'm jus' tired, Jim. I'll be fine once I get some sleep t'night."

Jim shot him a skeptical look. Tolbert paid no mind to him, his eyes landing on Mrs. White, who gave a "hmph!" before turning her nose upward and walking away. He waited until she was out of earshot to speak.

"I have never liked that woman."

"She ain't ever gave ya a reason to," Jim grumbled. "I can't stand people who think they're better than ev'rybody else."

"Easy now, Jim. We don't need you losin' yer temper in the churchyard," Tolbert jested, earning a playful smack to the side of his head.

"Won't you shut up," he laughed.

"Nah. Ain't no fun in that."

—

The next day, Jim, Calvin, and Pharmer had stopped by shortly after Bud went upstairs for the night. Tolbert wasn't sure why he was so fidgety. He caught himself tugging on his sleeve and tried to force himself to stop by putting his hands at his sides, only to subconsciously raise them again and do it.

"What're ya so nervous for?" Jim quirked a brow.

"I don't know," he murmured. "What're you doin' here?"

"Well, we were up 'round your still. Or what's left of it. What happened to it?"

"Bud lost his balance n knocked into it. Blew it up."

"When?"

"Sometime last month. Can't r'member the exact day. Please don't mention it around him? I jus' got him t' stop apologizin' for it."

"I won't." Jim turned toward the boys. "Why don't ya go see if he's still awake an' talk with him a while?"

They nodded and hurried up the stairs.

"Tolbert, how've ya been makin' money?"

"I ain't," he answered quietly. "I mean, I had a few people who paid for the last delivery last month, the one from D'cember, 'cause I didn't have the chance t' make it for last month. Bud don't know that, though. He thinks ev'rything's alright an' I plan on keepin' it that way."

"Bert, you been eatin'?"

"Yeah," he lied, nodding slightly.

"Bert," Jim shot him a scolding look.

"What?"

"Don't lie t' me. Ya know that I know when ya lie t' me. Don't try t' lie t' me. Why ain't you been eatin'?"

"We can't make it that way," Tolbert admitted softly. "He's a boy, he needs all he can get. I'm alright. It's jus' for a little while."

"Tolbert, I can understand not wantin' t' tell Bud about it, but there's a fine line b'tween not wantin' to and needin' to. Ya've got t' eat, Tolbert."

"I'm fine, Jim," he huffed irritably. "Ya didn't see him the day he knocked into it n blew it up. He was scared o' me. Ya didn't hear him the next few days, constantly askin' if we were gonna be okay. He doesn't need t' know. As far as he's concerned, everything is normal."

"How d'ya get out of eatin', Tol?"

"I tell him I either ate earlier or I'll eat later. He don't need t' know there ain't enough for both of us," Tolbert breathed a laugh, lowering his gaze to the floor. "It's okay. We're okay. I've just — I've got t' get the new still runnin' 'fore I can make any money. I've almost got it built. He's helped a lot. I won't tell him no 'cause I know why he wants t' help build it. He might not be apologizin' anymore, but he still feels bad over it."

"Ya can't go on forever without eatin', Tolbert. It's gonna be noticeable soon enough."

"Nah," he shook his head. "We'll be back t' normal by then."

"Would you at least agree t' come t' my place for supper one day this week?"

"I don't need charity."

"It's not charity, Tolbert. I'm your older brother, I'm supposed t' help when it—"

"I don't need help!" Tolbert exploded. "It's fine, Jim! It's just for a little while. I don't need help."

"There ain't nothin' wrong with needin' help, Tolbert."

"I don't need it! I don't, I swear. It'll just be a few more days. Soon as I start makin' it, I can start sellin' it. It won't be long, I'm almost done with it, and—"

"Alright. Alright. Then how 'bout it's nothin' but me invitin' both of ya over for supper?"

"Nah, we're okay," Tolbert declined, still tugging at his sleeve. "Don't worry about it."

"Ya don't look fine. Ya look like yer about t' fall over," Jim stated harshly.

"Jim—"

"Hey, Tol, I can't wear this anymore," Bud informed him as he came down the stairs, holding a blue shirt in his hands. "It's too small."

"Alright, baby. I'll get one of the girls t' make ya a new one," Tolbert smiled at him, catching the shirt as Bud threw it to him. "Reckon we can cut this int' bandages. Never know when we'll need 'em."

"Hey, Jim," Bud beamed at his eldest brother.

"Hey, Buddy," Jim reciprocated with a soft smile. He could see how happy the boy was and he knew instantly that if he ever found out Tolbert wasn't eating, it would likely diminish that happiness. Tolbert wouldn't let Bud know how much they were struggling to get by.

Tolbert had sworn from the day he took Bud in that he'd never let the boy go hungry. And now that Jim thought about it, Tolbert had never promised him that he wouldn't go hungry. He'd shrugged Jim off with a "yeah, whatever" and went on his way.

So Tolbert had expected something like this to happen at one point or another. Tolbert had been fully prepared to stop eating at any given time if it meant Bud was happy and healthy.

Jim's eyes flicked over to Tolbert, who stared at the floor. Tolbert was starving, Jim knew he was, and yet he wouldn't let Jim help him. He'd always been too stubborn for his own good, had always insisted that he could make it just fine on his own. But now with no income, it was a little harder to believe that. Especially when Jim knew that Tolbert was practically starving himself.

"Tol? You a'ight?" Bud's face pinched in a concerned expression.

"Yeah, baby," Tolbert nodded, lifting his gaze. "I'm a'ight."

—

Tolbert entered Bud's room, finding that the boy was sleeping. He made his way over to the bed, sitting in the edge and pulling his fingers through Bud's hair. His vision blurred, tears spilling onto his face.

Tolbert had always expected something like this to happen. He'd expected it to happen shortly after he'd taken Bud in. Tolbert had been thirteen at the time and there wasn't much a thirteen-year-old could do, but he'd managed to make it with the harvest that year.

Bud woke up, shifting onto his back and gazing at Tolbert, who gently scratched the boy's scalp.

"Go back t' sleep, Buddy."

"Wha' y' doin'?" Bud murmured sleepily, his words slurring together.

"Couldn't sleep n came in here t' check on ya."

"Oh... Can y' keep doin' that?"

"What, you like it or somethin'?" Tolbert teased lightheartedly.

"Mhmm..."

He chuckled, watching Bud as he fought to stay awake.

"Don't leave," he mumbled.

"A'ight, baby. I won't leave," Tolbert promised, still scratching his scalp.

"Y' gonna sleep sittin' up?"

"No, I'm not gonna sleep sittin' up," Tolbert replied a little snarkily, earning a giggle out of Bud. Bud knew that Tolbert had no intention of actually being snarky and was just doing it to make him laugh. Bud had always found Tolbert's attitude funny, so the latter would purposely make it seem like he was irritated to coax a laugh out of Bud.

He especially loved it when Tolbert decided to mock him. It was hilarious to listen to him raise his voice in pitch while he imitated Bud, who sounded nothing like what Tolbert said he did. Bud never took offense to it; he usually laughed it off. Tolbert didn't mind making him laugh. He loved to hear the boy laugh.

"Hey, you," Tolbert gently poked his cheek. "Turn over."

Bud turned toward his older brother, who had laid down on the opposite side of the bed, humming when Tolbert began to scratch his scalp again.

"Feels good," Bud breathed, his eyes fluttering closed.

"I'm glad ya enjoy it," Tolbert snorted, kissing the boy's forehead. "Why don't ya go back t' sleep, hm?"

"'M not s'eepy," Bud whined, scooting closer and burying his face in Tolbert's chest.

"A'ight. You're not sleepy."

"'M not," he insisted, blinking slowly while he craned his neck and peered up at him. "'M not sleepy."

"Okay, okay! I believe ya, baby. I really do."

That seemed to appease him, as he nuzzled against Tolbert's chest with a content huff. Tolbert used his free hand to rub the boy's back, trying to suppress his amusement while Bud fought to stay awake.

"Whaddaya wanna stay awake so bad for?"

"Wanna... wanna talk," Bud mumbled against Tolbert's chest.

"Then talk."

"I know somethin's wrong."

Tolbert's heart skipped a beat.

"Oh, do ya?"

"Mhm. I always know when somethin's wrong. Don't know what it is, though. Reckon yer still upset 'bout me blowin' up yer still?"

"I'm not upset over that," Tolbert assured him. "Nothin's wrong. I think you're just tired and you're talkin' out of your head."

Bud huffed.

"Don't huff. Get some sleep."

"Mkay, Tol'ert. Love you."

"Love ya too, Bud."

—

"Have you seen Tolbert McCoy lately?"

Tolbert rolled his eyes at the women, wishing he could have one Sunday where he didn't hear his name mentioned in their gossip.

"What about him? He looks the same t' me."

"No, he's thinner than he used t' be. Come to think of it, I heard that his still blew up."

"Serves him right! Makin' moonshine and sellin' it the way he does. He needs a respectable job. If he wants to be Bud's father, he's got to provide for him."

Tolbert swallowed thickly. They didn't know anything about what he was going through now and he intended to keep it that way. No one needed to know that he was struggling to put food on the table. It was bad enough that Jim knew about it and wouldn't stop pestering him.

"I still think somethin's off with him."

"He'll be fine. I doubt ya should worry 'bout whatever it is."

"Maybe so, but still—"

"Oh, why don't ya quit worryin' 'bout that rude, hot-headed, ill-mannered boy? It'd do all of us good if ya stopped worryin' about it. Tolbert can take care of himself."

"Hey," Jim spoke up as he approached. "You listenin' t' them again?"

"Nothin' better t' do. Jus' wish there was one week without my name bein' mentioned."

"What's goin' on?" Calvin asked as he caught up.

"Nothin', Cal," Jim chuckled. "Ya didn't miss anything."

"Tolbert, are you okay? Ya seem a little pale."

"Fine," Tolbert waved him off. "I feel fine."

"If ya say so," Calvin shrugged. "Where's Bud?"

"Over there with Pharmer," Tolbert pointed in the general direction the two boys had run off in.

"Thank ya!"

Tolbert watched him run off and sighed, leaning against the wagon.

"Tolbert, will you please agree t' it?" Jim pleaded, shooting his younger brother a look.

"No," Tolbert refused, shaking his head vigorously. "I won't agree t' it. I don't need dagon charity."

"There's nothin' wrong with needin' help," Jim spoke in a hushed voice. "Let me help you. Please?"

"No. I'm fine on my own. I don't need any help."

"Tolbert, yer starvin'," Jim growled in his ear. "Let me help you."

"An' I've already said it — no. I'm not gonna let ya help me. I'm alright, so stop askin' me about it. The answer is gonna be the same every time ya ask it."

Jim sighed in defeat, slumping against the wagon beside Tolbert.

"I don't like knowin' that you're starvin', Bert."

"I'm not—"

"Don't you lie t' me," Jim snapped harshly. "If ya'd quit bein' a stubborn, hot-headed moron, ya wouldn't be starvin' the way that ya are."

"Jim, I'm not starvin'," Tolbert huffed. "I'm fine. Shut up 'fore someone hears ya."

"No one's gonna hear me. Why in the world would ya sit n starve yourself when ya know I'd gladly help ya out 'til ya get straightened out again?"

"Because I don't need help," he replied through gritted teeth. "I'm not — I don't need it! I'm fine, we're both fine. Bud has what he needs. I can do without for a while."

"Tolbert, if ya keep this up, ya won't eat at all."

"Jim, just give me another week, a'ight? I should have it done by then. Just one week."

"Fine. But if ya haven't eaten by then, I will feed you myself. Are we understandin' each other?"

"Yeah."

Tolbert stared down at the ground, subconsciously tugging on the sleeve to his coat. He chewed on his lower lip, his eyes flicking up and catching sight of Bud, who was making his way over to him with an odd look on his face.

"Ready t' go home now?" Tolbert forced a smile.

"Yeah."

"See ya t'morrow?" Tolbert turned toward Jim, who nodded.

"Yeah. See ya t'morrow."

—

Tolbert knew instantly that Bud was acting strange. He set a bowl down in front of him before he sat down. Bud stared at the bowl, biting down on his lip.

"I'm not — I'm not very hungry," he said after a moment.

"Why not? Ya feelin' poorly or somethin'?" Tolbert's brows furrowed in concern.

"No," he shook his head slightly. "Jus' ain't very hungry."

"Bud, I know ya. I know when yer lyin' an' when ya ain't. Why don't ya wanna eat it?"

"Jus' don't want to."

Tolbert exhaled deeply, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Bud—"

"D'ya really think I ain't noticed?" Bud asked softly, his hazel eyes gleaming with unshed tears as he gazed at his older brother.

"Noticed what, Buddy?"

"That ya've gotten a lot thinner."

"It's not what ya think."

"What else could it be, Tolbert?!"

"I jus' haven't been very hungry lately. 'S all it is. I've been real busy n ain't been hungry. By the time I get done for the day, I jus' wanna go t' bed n sleep for a week. I promise, baby, we'll get back t' normal soon."

"Don't lie t' me. Ya don't eat at all! Y-ya tell me ya've already eaten or you'll eat later, but I know ya ain't! I know you're not okay, that we're not okay. Why can't ya be honest with me? I want ya t' be honest with me!"

"It's not yer place t' be worryin'," Tolbert snapped. "I'm honest with you. Quit worryin' 'bout me an' eat yer supper."

"Tolbert, ya haven't ate in—"

"Ya can't prove it. Now, hush up n eat, Bud."

"You gonna eat?"

"No. I'm not hungry."

"Liar. You're a liar! I know you're lyin' t' me, Tol."

"I'm not hungry. I swear that's all it is. I've been real busy n there's times I ain't hungry at all. Here lately, all I've wanted t' do is sleep. I'm just tired, honey, that's all it is. We'll be back t' normal soon."

"An' you're a dagon liar! Ya think I don't hear you when ya argue with Jim? I know ya ain't eatin'! Ya've got t' eat—"

"No, I don't," Tolbert cut him off harshly. "I'm keepin' food on the table for you, what more could ya possibly want, Bud?! Don't ya understand that if both of us eat, pretty soon we'll both be starvin'?!"

Bud blanched when Tolbert raised his voice. He'd always hated it when Tolbert got mad; it made him nervous.

"I'm not gonna sit here n let you starve, Bud! It's my place t' make sure you've got everything you need, an' that includes food. I expected somethin' like this to happen a long time ago an' it didn't. But don't ya sit here n act like ya know ev'rythin' 'bout this, Bud. Ya don't know a thing about it."

"But I know you're starvin'," Bud countered, keeping his voice quiet. "I know ya are."

"It's fine, Bud. I'm not really starvin'. It's not as bad as you think it is."

"No? How long's it been since ya ate, Tolbert?"

"It's been a while," he answered honestly, averting his gaze. "I hope when ya grow up, ya never have t' make the choice b'tween eatin' an' not eatin'. Ya just... don't understand it right now. And that's okay, ya don't have to. Ya don't have t' understand it right now. Yer thirteen, yer not... yer not old enough t' understand why I'm doin' it."

"Tol, how long is a while?"

"I dunno," Tolbert sighed. "Maybe the last week of January was the last time I ate? Maybe before that. But we're okay, we're survivin—"

"Ya haven't ate in almost a month?!"

"I have t' put food on the table for you," Tolbert kept his voice calm and gentle, trying to explain it to Bud. "If I ate right now, there wouldn't be any food on the table. We've got t' get by until we get that still runnin'. Now that we've got it done, we can start makin' 'shine n sellin' it again. But until we get that goin', until we start makin' money again, I can't eat. 'Cause if I eat, it means you won't. And I've sworn t' myself n t' Jim n even Mama an' Poppy that I'd never let ya go hungry. Yer my r'spons'bility, I'm s'pposed t' take care of ya. I'm not gonna let you go hungry."

"But what about you? Ya can't keep goin' like—"

"Don't worry 'bout me," Tolbert said swiftly. "It's gonna be fine. We'll start makin' 'shine t'day n start sellin' it. Don't worry so much, honey."

Bud bit down on his lip, his brows furrowing.

"Why didn't ya tell me?"

"I didn't want ya worryin', a'ight? I just... God, Buddy, you're not gonna understand this 'til yer older. It's somethin' that ya won't understand now, but ya will soon 'nough. Ya just gotta have someone that ya love more than anything in the world t' understand it. Now... now never mind all that. Eat your supper, please."

"Why don't you eat it?" Bud said quickly.

"'Cause it's yours. I'm alright, I promise. We should be gettin' back t' normal this week, baby. We're gonna be fine. Eat yer dang supper."

"If I said I didn't want it, would ya eat it?"

"No. B'cause I swore I wa'n't gonna let ya go hungry. Would ya please eat?" Tolbert pleaded.

"Fine," he grumbled, giving in. "Ya coulda told me you were starvin'."

"I'm not—"

"Whatever," Bud interrupted, deciding to stop it before it became an argument. "I jus' wish ya woulda told me."

"I know," he sighed tiredly. "But it's not as bad as ya think it is. I promise."

"Okay. You'll eat as soon as ya start sellin' 'shine 'gain, right?"

"Yeah. I'll start eatin' then."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

—

March 1878

Tolbert sighed as Jim approached him.

"He find out?" Jim asked casually, leaning against the wagon.

"More like he figured it out," Tolbert grumbled. "But it's fine. We've got the still runnin' now n I already made a few deliv'ries. Used that money t' get what we needed n we've both been eatin'. I'm real glad what we had lasted as long as it did."

"I'm just glad yer eatin' again."

"Can't eat much right now. I'll get sick if I do."

Jim shook his head, his eyes gleaming with amusement. He'd never expected Tolbert to be so nonchalant about it.

"My God, have ya seen Tolbert? That boy is thinner than anyone I've seen!"

"Oh, must we talk about that boy? We all know he's nothin' but hot-headed and rude, and that he's got his moonshine business goin' again, and that he's as thin as can be. He dug his claws into an innocent two-year-old n he's yet t' let him go."

Jim noticed someone near the women turn their head, and immediately recognized Bud. Tolbert hadn't noticed; he had his head hung down with his hat pulled down as far as it would go.

"Oh dear God," Jim breathed, catching Tolbert's attention.

"What?"

"Look." Jim pointed to Bud, who was still listening to what they were saying. Jim could tell by the look on the boy's face that he'd had enough.

"Oh no," Tolbert murmured, lowering his head again and pinching the bridge of his nose. Bud was going to cause himself more trouble than it was worth, but Tolbert wouldn't stop him. He'd taught the boy to stand up for himself, to speak up when he felt something was wrong, and he had the notion that he was about to witness it firsthand.

"Ain't that Bud there?" One of the women tilted her head slightly.

"Yes... I wonder if he hates livin' with that wretched boy," Mrs. White remarked.

"You are aware I can hear you, right?" Bud queried, stuffing his hand into his pocket. "And that I've heard ev'rythin' ya said about Tolbert?"

"Well, by all means, tell us if ya hate livin' there!"

"Why would I?" Bud looked genuinely confused, stepping away from one of the Scotts and joining them so they could hear him better. "Tolbert's been the only one I've had. He still is. But b'cause of y'all, I was convinced that he hated me for a while n that he didn't want me. Ya try t' stir up trouble 'cause you don't like that Tolbert was the one who stepped up n raised me. Tolbert ain't nothin' like ya make him out t' be."

"We've known Tolbert longer than you."

"But ya don't live with him," Bud countered. "I've lived with Tolbert for thirteen years. You focus on the bad — ya focus on his shotgun temper. Yeah, Tol's got a temper on him, but he's a good man with a good heart n a good soul. He sells 'shine so we can live durin' the winter months n have a little extra durin' summer and fall. Ya don't know what Tolbert does 'cause ya don't care! All ya worry about is findin' somethin' ya can talk about, somethin' bad. Somethin' that you can take and twist it until yer happy with it, but it's the farthest thing from the dagon truth. Ya've talked 'bout him for years. I'm sick of it! He's done nothin' t' you."

"And what would you know, with that bum ear and all?"

"My ear's got nothin' t' do with this!"

"You were in his care when it went bad, weren't ya?"

"I had scarlet! Tolbert can't control when I get poorly n what I'm poorly with! Tolbert is a good man. An' you're all a bunch of gossipin' busybodies that don't know when t' shut up."

Tolbert snorted under his breath, glancing at Jim as he huffed in amusement. Tolbert would never stop Bud from speaking his mind. It would contradict what he'd taught him to do.

"Tolbert, can we go home, please?" Bud grumbled as he walked up to him.

"Sure, Buddy," he smiled, ruffling the boy's hair. "We'll head home."

—

"Quite the conversation ya had wit' Mrs. White n them," Tolbert teased as he sat down in the rocking chair on the porch.

"Well, I'm sick of it! All they ever do is throw off on you. If you were as bad as they say ya are, ya wouldn't've starved yerself for a month. Ya wouldn't've done a dagon thing when I caught scarlet n ya wouldn't've tried t' help with my bum ear. I'm tired of 'em makin' it out like yer a terrible person."

"T' them, I am a terrible person. Ya don't need t' know what all they say 'bout me n ya don't need t' worry 'bout it. Let 'em talk if they wanna talk. It don't bother me none. What bothers me is when they bring you into it."

"But it's not right. They shouldn't talk 'bout you that way!"

"Calm down, honey. It's a'ight. They've done it all my life."

"Yeah, but that don't make it right," Bud stated, his voice trembling. "You're human, ya have feelin's, too! I don't care if ya are a hot-headed moron most of the time, they have no right t' say what they say about you."

"I know. There ain't no reason for ya t' get upset, though. It's just the way it goes, baby. We're better off t' ignore 'em. Don't let 'em see how much it bothers ya. I think it makes a diff'rence to 'em 'cause they know at least one person is listenin' to 'em, even if they don't agree with what they say."

Bud huffed as his hound dog flopped down beside him and put her head on his leg. Bud gently scratched the top of her head, his eyes flicking up and meeting Tolbert's.

"Tol... can I ask somethin' without ya gettin' mad?"

"Ya know ya can."

"Why ain't you married? Or courtin'?"

"'Cause there ain't nobody that wants me, Bud. No girl wants t' get with Crazy McCoy. But that's okay. God knows I ain't the kinda person that's made t' be a husband or a father. Wouldn't be very good at either one."

"Ya've been my father."

"That's different."

"No, it's not. Ya still raised me, didn't ya? I think yer a great poppy, Tol."

Tolbert breathed a laugh, shaking his head slightly.

"You turned out pretty good," Tolbert smiled softly. "I'm right proud of ya, baby. I love you."

"Love ya too," Bud reciprocated, smiling at him. "I think a girl's crazy if she don't want ya. Yer a good man."

"Reckon it's all a matter of opinion."

"Ya are. Yer a good man, Tol. I wouldn't want anyone but you raisin' me."

"Yer only sayin' that 'cause ya didn't know Mama n Poppy," Tolbert said swiftly. "Ya wouldn't want me if ya had them. Ya wouldn't want me if ya remembered them. Trust me, honey, ya wouldn't want me raisin' ya if ya could remember Mama n Poppy."

"Why can't ya let me say somethin' good 'bout ya?"

"'Cause you've got it in your head that I'm a good person and I'm not," Tolbert snapped. "I'm not a good person. I don't know where the heck ya got the idea that I am, but ya need t' get rid of it. I'm not good for you, don't ya understand that?! I'm a terrible person that ya shouldn't want t' be around. That's what I am. I know that, I know that 'm not any good for you. But it don't stop me. Reckon I'm just puttin' my wants first n what ya need second. I never shoulda fought wit' Jim. He woulda raised ya so much better than I did."

"Stop it! Just stop! What d'ya mean you're not good for me?! I don't want Jim! I want you! You're nothin' like ya think ya are. I need you. Don't — don't say things like that when I know I need ya more than anyone else. Yer not a bad person. Yer a great person, Tol. I love you more than I love anyone else. Please don't say things like that."

"I lied t' you once n I didn't like it. I'm not gonna lie t' you again."

"Well... well, I think you're wonderful. Might be an idiot sometimes, but yer the best man I know. I don't know of anyone who'd do what you did for me. Takin' me in an' raisin' me, even when I lost hearin' in my ear. Jus' don't seem right that ya think yer terr'ble."

Tolbert sighed, his eyes focusing on his little brother. He observed him, his eyes scanning over his baby brother's frame.

"Reckon I don't have t' say things like that 'round you," Tolbert muttered after a moment. "'M sorry."

"Don't apologize," Bud shook his head. "I just... oh God, I dunno. 'S hard for me t' think of ya as a terr'ble person when I know ya better than ev'ryone who says yer terr'ble. Ya ain't terrible. Ya've put up with a lot since ya took me in... I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Tolbert forced a small smile. "I promise, baby, it's not nearly as bad as ya think."

"No? You think yer terrible," Bud pointed out.

"Well, there's more reason for that than what they say."

"Like what?"

"Like that time ya thought I hated ya n didn't want ya. I had t' give ya some reason t' think that might be true. Like what happened in January when the still blew up n I got mad. The way I lied to ya an' tried t' keep how much we were strugglin' from ya. I'm just... not the kind of person who should be actin' like a father. Nothin' against you, I love ya more than anything, but I'm not the kind of person who should be a father."

"Yes, ya are," Bud insisted. "Ya should be a father. Ya are a father, really. Ya raised me, didn't ya? I think I turned out pretty good."

"Yeah, ya did," Tolbert chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Ya turned out t' be one heck of a human. I'm right proud of ya, baby."

"There's nothin' t' be proud of," Bud laughed. "I ain't ever done nothin'!"

"I just watched you stand up t' the women of the church. Ya stand up for yourself n your beliefs all the time, honey. Ya make me real proud when ya do."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm right proud of ya, Bud McCoy. Enough of that. I wanna give ya somethin'. Let me go get it."

Tolbert stood and went inside, ignoring the confused expression on Bud's face. He went to Ran'l and Sally's room, grabbing Ran'l's rifle and some bullets before making his way back to the boy, who had focused his attention on his hound dog, petting the dog's head gently.

"I know ya ain't fourteen yet, but I think yer r'sponsible enough t' have it. This here was Poppy's rifle. He'd bought it not too long 'fore the accident."

Tolbert handed the gun to Bud, who blinked in shock. He struggled to create words, his brain seeming to erupt into a scene of chaos as he tried to figure out what he could possibly say.

"Thank you," he managed to get out.

"Ev'ry boy should have his own gun. I think Poppy'd like it if he knew you're gonna be the one t' get some use outta that one."

"Y-yeah?" Bud's eyes flicked up at Tolbert before returning to the gun, running his hand along it.

"Yeah."

"That's... oh my God, I don't know what t' say."

"How 'bout ya wanna learn how t' shoot it?" Tolbert suggested, quirking a brow.

"Ya mean you'll teach me? Now?"

"If ya want. I don't care to."

Bud got up, practically bouncing with excitement.

"Can you? Please?"

"Yeah, baby," Tolbert chuckled. "C'mon."

—

August 1878

Tolbert grunted when Bud ran into him, stumbling as his arms wrapped around the boy. Bud sobbed into his shoulder, his arms tightly wrapped around Tolbert.

"What's the matter, honey?"

"I don't — I — I—" he cut himself off with another sob.

"Hey, hey, breathe. Breathe. There ya go, baby. Easy," Tolbert cooed, carding his fingers through Bud's thick locks of hair.

"I — I think it was real... I'm not — I'm not sure," he stuttered, burying his face in Tolbert's shoulder. "They—they shot ya. Oh God, I've never heard anyone scream like that!"

"Woah, easy, honey, easy. It was only a dream. No one's shot me."

Bud sniffled, clinging tightly to Tolbert.

"I've never had a dream like that," he whispered softly, his voice trembling. "It was so real."

"Sometimes they're like that, Buddy. You're a'ight, ev'rythin's a'ight."

"Y' sure?" Bud asked uncertainly.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"But... but—"

"Hey, it's okay, baby. Here, sit down n I'll light a lamp."

Bud nodded before sitting down. Tolbert lit a lamp and placed it on the table, sitting down beside Bud and brushing the boy's hair out of his eyes. Bud placed his head against Tolbert's arm, his trembling hand grasping Tolbert's.

He closed his eyes, swallowing past the lump that had formed in his throat. Bud had never had a dream like that before in his life, and he'd rather forget it ever happened. He didn't want another dream like that one; he didn't want something so realistic that it made him wake with tears racing down his pale face, a scream caught in his throat that had nearly burst through his lips the second he awoke.

He didn't like having terrifying dreams that seemed real. He huffed in contentment when Tolbert gently started to rub his cheek, managing to calm himself down a little.

"You okay?"

"Mhm."

"Don't fall asleep at the table, Buddy," Tolbert chuckled softly, causing Bud to shoot him an unamused glare. "Don't be hateful either."

"'M not hateful," he grumbled, shifting slightly.

"If ya say so."

"'M not."

"Why don't we get you back upstairs, hm? It's alright now."

Bud agreed to it, letting Tolbert lead him up the stairs. He entered Bud's room and placed the lamp on the table, watching the boy as he crawled into bed.

"You okay?"

"Yeah... Will y' stay a minute?" Bud requested, his cheeks flushing scarlet.

"Sure."

Tolbert sat on the edge of the bed, deciding that would be best. He took hold of Bud's hand, rubbing his thumb across the back of it.

"Ya don't wanna be alone, do ya?" Tolbert asked, shooting Bud a knowing look.

"Not — not really," he admitted softly. "I don't... I'm sorry. Y' can go if ya want... I'm too old t' be doin' this."

"Hey, stop that," Tolbert chided softly. "Ya ain't too old. Ya can't help that ya get scared. It's part of bein' human. There's times I don't want t' be alone after havin' a dream like that, then there's times I just don't feel comfortable bein' alone. And any time you feel that way, ya know where ya can find me. I don't care t' keep ya comp'ny, baby."

"Thanks," Bud gave a small smile. "I love ya, Tol."

"Love ya too, Bud."

—

January 1880

"Bud, honey, you a'ight?" Tolbert asked as he pushed the door to Bud's room open. Bud was lying on his side, sleeping, his good ear pressed against the pillow with one arm tucked against his chest, his face flushed and his lips slightly parted, his hair splayed across the pillow in every direction.

Tolbert breathed a laugh and shook his head, making his way over to him. He bent down and gently shook his shoulder, the boy jerking awake.

"Mmm... wha' y' want?" he slurred after turning onto his back, making sure he could hear Tolbert before asking.

"Best get up, youngin. Yer sleepin' the day away."

"I don't feel s' good," Bud murmured, shifting slightly.

"Mm... ya don't look like ya do. Yer awful pale."

Tolbert places the back of his hand to Bud's forehead and sighed.

"You ain't movin' from this bed. Or at the very least, you're not goin' outside."

"Y' mean yer gonna let me get up this time?" Bud smirked in amusement, knowing Tolbert usually confined him to his bed.

"Yeah, I'll let ya get up this time," Tolbert laughed softly. "Just don't go outside, mkay?"

"Mkay. I'll be up in a minute."

"A'ight, baby. I'll put ya a plate on the table."

"'Kay. Just not too much? I don't think I can eat very much."

"Yeah, whatever ya want, honey. I'll be downstairs waitin' for ya."

—

By the time evening rolled around, Bud felt much worse than he had that morning. He sat in front of the fireplace, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, relishing in the warmth from the fire.

Tolbert had gone up to his still, leaving Bud alone. He looked up when the door opened, expecting to see Tolbert, but instead found Jim.

"Hey, Buddy. Where's Tol?" Jim greeted, closing the door.

"Went up t' his still. He'll be back in a minute," Bud mumbled.

"You okay, honey?" Jim's brow furrowed in concern.

"Jus' don't feel s' good," he murmured. "Tol won't let me go outside. I mean, I don't want to, but it's just the point, y'know? It's odd not bein' able t' do somethin'."

"Yeah, I know whatcha mean," Jim nodded, sitting down beside him. "How bad ya feel?"

"I mean... I don't think it's t' the point of mis'rable. I jus' don't feel s' good. Feel a lot worse than what I did this mornin', though," he mumbled.

"Ya wanna go t' bed?"

"No. I wanna stay here. 'S warm here."

Jim couldn't help but laugh at his response. Bud put his head against Jim's shoulder, groaning quietly. Jim sighed, pulling the fifteen-year-old onto his lap, gently rocking back and forth while he combed his fingers through the boy's sweaty locks of hair.

He kept his head on Jim's shoulder, allowing his older brother to take the blanket from him and cover him with it. Jim wrapped one arm around him, using his free hand to play with the boy's hair and caress his face. Bud hummed and closed his eyes, nuzzling against Jim's neck.

Jim kept hold of him, letting the boy doze off. Bud's breathing evened out, indicating that the boy had fallen asleep.

Tolbert came in then, shivering as he closed the door.

"What're you doin' here?" he queried, taking off his hat and coat.

"Ain't seen ya in a while. Stopped t' talk to ya n found this lil one instead," Jim replied, the corner of his lip turned upward.

"Lil one?" Tolbert scoffed. "He's nearly as tall as me! He can wear my clothes."

"Oh, can he?" Jim chuckled.

"Yeah," Tolbert nodded slightly. "He feelin' any worse?"

"Yeah. Said he feels worse than he did this mornin'."

"Thought so. If he was feelin' better, he wouldn't let ya hold him like that. He'd fight ya."

"He always this way when he's poorly?"

"Purdy much. That boy gives me more reasons t' worry when he gets poorly than anyone else. Scares the life outta me sometimes. He just... God, Jim, I get scared ev'ry time he gets that way now. I have since he was three. It scares me... the thought of losin' him. And I hate myself for thinkin' it up, but I somehow manage t' do it every time he gets poorly."

"B'cause he gave ya a good scare when he was three. He right near died on ya then. An' I'm not sure if you'd willin'ly admit it or not, but ya need him more than ya think ya do, Bert. He needs you n you need him. That's how this works."

Tolbert exhaled deeply through his nostrils, bending down and gently shaking Bud's shoulder. Bud stirred and grunted, but he didn't wake. So Tolbert did it again.

"Stop," he whined.

"Let's get ya upstairs t' bed, honey," Tolbert spoke softly. "You'll be more comfortable."

Bud turned his head and opened his eyes, blinking a few times when they landed on Tolbert.

"Tol'ert?"

"Yeah, Buddy," Tolbert suppressed a laugh. "C'mon, let's getcha to your room."

"M' room?" His brows furrowed.

"Mhm. C'mon, baby. Stand up, there ya go."

Tolbert carefully placed one hand on his back, leading him toward the staircase. They ascended the stairs, walking the short distance down the hall to Bud's room. Bud shuffled in and flopped onto the bed, Tolbert smiling and shaking his head fondly at the boy's antics.

"Rest up, Buddy," Tolbert murmured, covering him with a thick quilt before pressing a kiss to the boy's temple. "Night."

"G'night."

—

Bud was ill for three days.

Within those three days, Tolbert was taking care of Bud and completing both of their chores while simultaneously trying to run his moonshine business. He'd managed, though, and now that Bud was feeling better, he had agreed to let the boy do his chores.

"Ya look tired," Bud observed as he glanced at Tolbert. "Ya ain't slept much these last few days, have ya?"

"Nope," Tolbert sighed. "How'd you know that?"

"Lucky guess," Bud shrugged. "And yer startin' t' look like a raccoon."

"A'ight, that's just mean. I don't look that bad yet."

"Yet."

"Won't you shut up?"

Walking over to him, handing him a bucket full of feed, Bud grinned teasingly.

"Where's the fun in that?"