DISCLAIMER: Spot and Jack don't belong to us. But all of these pleasant kids do! Muahaha!
A.N.: w00t w00t! Amy and I would like to thank our kindly reviewers! You guys rock. We are thoroughly glad you are enjoying this story, because it certainly is fun to write. Smiles Anyway, happy reading with this chapter!
A Tale of Two Families...Trying to Make it as One
Saturday marked the long awaited Ice Cream Social annually held for the occupants of the countryside neighborhood. Because it was a central location of the area and thus close to virtually all households, the church meeting house hosted the event, its front acreage serving as the lands upon which families conversed, laughed, and watched their children play amidst the apple blossoms in the sweet-scented breeze of the autumn air. The aroma of sugary cotton candy, as well as the resonance of the guest band, accented the affable environment and did well to give off the sense of community.
Ethan walked aside Felicity with his hands in his pockets, for once at a lost for topics of conversation. When he'd asked her to be his date, he hadn't been aware of just how alone they were to be. True, their family members were present and somewhere about the area, but quite frankly, it was as if Ethan was now concretely bound to the girl who'd accompanied him. "So...are you enjoying yourself?" he asked, more to disrupt the silence than to ascertain a view on her feelings.
"Oh yes! My family and I come here every year; the band last time wasn't so great but I rather like the one playing tonight." She smiled and clasped her hands behind her back as she listened on to the vibrant melodies of the bass, banjo, and companions. Her dark chocolate locks of hair were styled more formal than usual, with half pulled up with a lacey burette and the other left loose to fall past her shoulders.
He nodded and absentmindedly began to deal his role as audience as well while his thoughts strayed elsewhere. Particularly, to his former girlfriend, Rebecca Winters. Too impatient for his return and unwilling to deal with the hassles of long distance relationships, she had – in her latest letter – addressed her inability to be his girlfriend any longer. This naturally had ruined his mood for quite a time, putting him in the most vulnerable position when he'd asked Felicity to the social. However, he was finding he actually liked her company more than he thought he would.
When the band had finished playing their last song for the time being, Ethan pretended to be occupied with observing his surroundings, namely the whereabouts of his siblings and parents. His mother (hand in hand with Neeko) and father were speaking with Miss Wells about J.P.'s behavior problems while the boy in question concealed himself behind the rosebushes alongside the meeting house where he read Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Grey. Ruthie and Andy were, as always, playing with their Kelly counterparts-Adelaide and Luke. Rhett and Ty shared a bout of mirth with their classmates as they exchanged jokes while sitting on the fence posts, leaving Connor to drift away with an increasing interest in a stray dog.
"Ethan, when the band starts playing the slower music, would you like to dance with me?"
He turned his attention back to her and stuttered for an answer. "Uhm...sur-"
"Felicity!" Two girls with their hairs done up in ribbons and bouncing curls rushed up to their friend and gleamed. "Who is this handsome devil! You didn't tell us you were hiding a boy from us. Hi there!" They burst into giggles and proceeded to carry on conversation with Ethan while escorting him toward the refreshments table.
Felicity stayed behind, deprived of a date and quite upset about such a fact. "Ugh! The nerve!" She crossed her arms and started to storm toward her parents, who were speaking with the men who'd formerly owned the ranch, to be consoled. No sooner had she taken but seven steps, though, a most detestable sight caught her eyes. Her long time crush, Paul, had just kissed Kathryn under the falling leaves of the church oak tree! Eyes welling up with tears and lips ajar, she vehemently decided to make her departure from the social immediate. She was near reaching the dirt road when someone of a sudden blocked her path. "Ethan!"
He planted his palms onto his knees as he tried to catch his breath; it had taken a quick sprint to catch up with her from where he'd been. "Where...are you going?"
"Home," she said simply, pushing past him. "As if you care. Why don't you return to your fans back there and blow me off again." She gave him a cutting look, and then continued on toward home, even after he had called after her twice. Ethan watched her retreating figure with a remorseful heart, and sighed aloud as he felt impelled to go after her.
Rhett Kelly tightened his grip on the shoulder strap of his book bag when school let out that following Monday and scanned the area for a companion with whom he might walk home. Felicity, as always, was doing her best in assisting Miss Wells by tutoring the younger students in their grammar and mathematics while Luke and Ty were caught up in a neighborhood game of kickball which would probably last until just before dusk. "Come on, Rhett...you can't walk alone..."
That's when he saw him. Slipshod and casual as always, J.P. trampled home over gardens and through bushes while his peers more respectfully took to the dirt roads. Surprisingly he didn't have his nose in a book, and though Rhett considered it a major blow to his pride to congregate with the outcast Conlon, he wouldn't deny there was strength in numbers. "Hey J.P.," he called out as he hurried along the few yards separating him from the boy, "wait up!"
J.P. slowly turned around at the sound of his name and arched an eyebrow upon seeing Rhett. "I distinctly remember asking you not to address me in public." He gave the younger a sardonic look, but his lips were creased out in a smirk, as if he were merely joking. He was about to start off homebound, but was interrupted by rushed words.
"I just thought we could walk home together, ya know? I mean, we are heading for the same place anyway and, I don't know...I just figured it'd be cool since we don't really talk that much and..."
At some point, J.P. simply ceased in listening and looked past Rhett at two boys stalking through the grasslands, their eyes filled with malevolent intent. "You know those two scabs over there?" he asked, nodding toward the pair.
"Oh yea, yea," he answered, without looking back. "They're like...good friends of mine." He switched his weight from one foot to the other, a bit nervous under J.P.'s steady and uncompromising look. He would've said further, but the would-be inconspicuous duo in question abandoned their distant post and approached the others.
"Hey J.P.!" The first one called out. His name was Scott Summers, and he had a personality which ran contrary to anything pertaining to summer fun. A wisecrack and ruffian, he'd sooner indent a stranger's face than try to make friends. "I didn't think you were the type to be passing the days with worthless river trash like Rhetty here." Laughing most annoyingly, he shoved Rhett toward his companion.
"Yea," spoke the companion, clamping a hand on Rhett's shoulder and tightening his grip mercilessly. "He's not even cool enough to lick the mud off your boots. But I guess we can make him anyway." He pushed Rhett to the ground and ordered him to do as he had mentioned, but J.P. backed away out of disgust and claimed such insolence wouldn't be necessary. They, of course, couldn't quite understand his vocabulary and so took to abusing the Kelly boy themselves.
"Is it true you're living with this lower class cowhand? I heard the Kelly's slept in pigsty's every night."
J.P. smirked at this, simply because it was quite the idiotic insult. Quite frankly, the Kelly family had one of the biggest houses in the countryside! Apparently, these two needed to brush up on their research before opening their mouths to make retorts. "Yea, I'm living with him. So if you don't mind, don't waste your time pulverizing him or I'll be the one sleeping in the pigsty." The bullying pair got a kick out of such a statement for whatever reasons and decided to forsake their cruelty for now and instead fellowship with J.P. on his way home.
"Hey, wait up, kid." Scott jogged up to the Conlon boy and tossed him a small rectangular box, upon which was nothing more than a simple design and scripted words.
"What's this?"
"Oh come on, city slicker. Don't tell me you can't recognize a cigarette box." He laughed and slapped J.P. on the back as they progressed down the dirt road together, leaving Rhett behind to wallow in his own 'unworthiness'. "Come on, light one up. Let's have us a victory smoke, shall we?"
J.P. hesitated for a moment, but not wanting to appear weak in anyone's eyes, he opened the box and received the match from Scott's companion.
Fortunately for Amy, Luke and Ty's kickball game didn't last too considerably long, and when they had finally arrived home only an hour after the other children, she very much desired to call into order a family meeting. She didn't mind in the least bit having the Conlon's lodge in her house no more than she minded catering to their needs every now and then. She wasn't too favorable of being drained of her energy, however, especially when the lot of them were relatively capable of pulling their weight around the house. Last night she'd had to not only enlist her own youngest daughter to help set the table, but afterwards was dealt the duty of washing over two dozen plates with only Dewey as her aid.
She didn't understand why the Conlon children failed to see it imperative in helping out as well. She didn't understand how they could take for granted how kindly others treated them in their time of need. The younger ones were rather grateful and appreciative; she wouldn't fail to acknowledge that. Sometimes she'd wander through the house simply to find relief in its silence during school time, and would find Neeko busily picking up the toys strewn across the floor of the den. And a few times she had espied Andy and Ruthie cleaning the windows when boredom had taken harbor in their minds.
She had mentioned this all to Jack a few times and always he had said the same things. They're not use to the working life, he'd argue in their defense. Or I'm sure they'll come on their own eventually...maybe they're just a bit coy about helping out still. It did nothing to alleviate her indignation when she saw Luke carrying buckets of pig feed to the sloughs by himself or Rhett rounding up stray cattle all on his lonesome. They were a mega family of eleven members now! There was no reason why household chores couldn't be completed two times faster, and she was vehement in letting the issue surface this day.
"First off, I'd like to start out by saying that the past few weeks, though hectic, have been enjoyable. I thought having five children was a full house, but I guess you can never have enough." The little ones seated on the floor of the den brought their fingers up to cover their giggles. Amy smiled at them warmly, and continued on with her statements. Jack, Dewey, and Spot were hanging on to her every word, watching the expression of their offspring eagerly. The teenagers lounged on the couches semi-interested, each to some extent retreating into their own thoughts.
Amy pointed to a small wooden sign hanging from a wall on the den. "Can anyone tell me what that says?"
"Oh, I can! I can, mommy!" Adelaide raised her hand excitedly and nearly leapt to her feet, so bursting with energy was she. Though only four, she recognized the letters of the alphabet and could even read short sentences so long as the words were somewhat simple. She beamed when her mother selected her to read it and raised her voice for all to hear. "Nothing in life is free."
"That's right," Amy continued. "Nothing in life is free. This large ranch of ours didn't fall from the sky in front of us just like that. Though it was a blessing, we had to work to maintain it. We had to work to raise our animals, to feed them, to protect them when bad weather came. We have to work to keep it clean, to keep cowhands interested in laboring for us, and to remain as the top provider of eggs for our neighbors here in the country." She placed her hands on her hips and hoped they were beginning to understand exactly where she was leading with all this.
"And work isn't a one-person idea. It takes commitment, dedication, love for what you do, and working hands. A lot of working hands." She looked at Jack and smiled when he nodded encouragingly at her. They had talked about this all last night, and had finally decided it was something which couldn't wait to be brought up. "We, as your parents, have come to notice that some of you aren't contributing to the 'working hands' aspect of the deal. I understand that some of you might not be use to having so many chores, but sometimes in life, we have to make adjustments.
"In our house, we have several rules. For one thing, everyone pulls their own weight. That means you just don't dump a dirty plate in the sink after eating a snack. Save someone the trouble and wash it yourself. If the garments on the clotheslines are dry, take the initiative and grab a basket to take them down and fold them. I don't mind cooking dinner every night, but I shouldn't have to be the one peeling potatoes or ears of corn all the time. Some of you are old enough to pick up after yourselves...in fact, all of you are old enough for that!"
She noticed their moods were changing, some toward guilt and others toward defense. She softened her voice in case she was coming off too scathing and proceeded. "Another matter that concerns us is conduct. Under this roof, we don't curse and we don't use foul language. We don't treat each other like enemies either. Even more important, we don't drink alcohol, smoke, or use other substances. Jack didn't tell you the story about my brother just for kicks; we seriously care about each of you and every individual here is precious to us. Why would you even want to throw all of that away for a reckless lifestyle?"
"I guess all I'm trying to say is this." She at last took a momentary pause during which she leaned against the mantelpiece of the fireplace and took the time to look at each child one by one for the ultimate time. "Life is what you make it, and despite what some may believe, not everything in it is free. You have to work hard if you want a luxurious living; it's not just handed over to you on a silver platter. Which is why everyone in this house needs to contribute their share of work and effort and time. We're one big family now, and we need to start acting like one."
Since Amy's passionate speech, the eleven children of the household were a bit more withdrawn and less likely to speak up in defiance as was their custom. For the most part, they held their tongues with the utmost respect and did as they were told, not matter how difficult it was at times to obey the parental units without argument. Naturally, these strongholds were bound to shatter. Luke and Ty, one sunny cloudless day when the whiff of apples was in the air and the wind whistling of adventure, were in the stable, tending to the untamed horse named Spaz their father had recently purchased from a breeder. It was habitually Rhett's responsibility to tend to the animals not yet broken, but boys would be boys and these two had long ago decided they'd have their fun.
Ty shook strands of dark brown hair from his eyes and grinned up at the wild Quarterhourse, who grunted and neighed and stomped its hooves vehemently. "I dare you to ride him," he said to his younger sibling, who very much resembled him. Ty had seen their father break horses in the circular rink sometimes, riding it in circles endlessly until the beast calmed its nerves and finally became domesticated. Rhett had even tamed a horse once; it didn't seem too drastic an ordeal. "Ride it from here to the trees down by the forest and back again. I dare you."
Luke piped up in his still high voice, "no way!" It was practically a golden rule in the Kelly household that no one...absolutely no one rode one of those horses just for racing high's or fun, especially one still unbroken. "Dad'll kill me! Besides, he said Spaz needs to calm down for a while before we can start training him. He'd throw me off as soon as I got on!"
"No he wouldn't! Just ride him without the saddle. You don't need stirrups; I'll just cup my hands and hoist you up. Or you can stand on the haystack inside of his stable and try to jump on." Ty nodded to affirm his points and then widened his eyes as if to prompt the opposing argument.
"Well then why don't you do it?"
The elder paused for a moment. "Because I thought I'd pass the fun to you!"
Luke narrowed his eyes at this suspiciously. Since when did his elder siblings pass the fun on to him? Sure Felicity looked out for him a lot, and usually let him have his way when the others were being bossy, but Ty? "I don't know. I don't want..." But before he could finish, they heard soft footsteps on the hay-covered flooring of the tenement and ducked behind a cast aside saddle and harness, fearing it was their father. The steps, however, fell lightly upon the ground and were anything but determined. Peeking around, they noted the visitor to be none other than Connor Conlon.
Ty heaved a huge sigh of relief and rose to his full height, dusting off the knees of his breeches. "Goodness, Connor! D'ya think you could knock or something next time?"
The Conlon boy shyly smiled and bit his bottom lip. He didn't know Ty and Luke were here; had he, he wouldn't have bothered coming. He simply had taken the detour to watch the animals as he liked to do. "Sorry," he muttered, kicking the floor and holding his hands behind his back.
"It's fine, don't worry about it." Ty draped an arm around his younger brother's shoulders and was about to escort the boy from the stables to depart from Connor's company when a new plan dawned on him. "Hey Connor? You ever ride a horse before?"
Luke's eyes widened at the inquiry. If they weren't allowed to ride the horses, what made Ty think the Conlon boy would be granted the permission? He parted his lips to voice his opinions on the matter, but the elder clamped a hand over his mouth and proceeded with the mirth. "It's really fun, ya know. This new horse here my dad got, Spaz...he's really gentle. See how he's stomping on the ground? He's anxious to have someone ride him. Luke and I were going to do it ourselves, but since you're our guest and all..."
Connor blinked. "Really?" His heart nearly skipped a beat at having been given this opportunity. He'd never ridden a horse as Ty had asked, but he'd always wanted to. He took a step closer to the brothers and let his shy smile grow wider. "Are you sure it's okay, though? I wouldn't want to make your dad mad if I rode his horse."
"No worries," Ty replied casually. "He wouldn't mind at all. He lets us ride them all the time!" Luke wriggled under his brother hold, trying once more to speak up against this, but he was being held down quite tight, and after a while, he knew he'd only get animosity conveyed his way should Ty not have his fun. He wasn't sure, however, why his older brother was acting as so. Sure, the Conlon brigade had caused a chore chart to be created, for which everyone had to pitch in for everything...but still.
"Alright then, I'll take him out for a ride."
"Great. Now just climb onto those sugar cube buckets there and crawl onto the wall of the stable. Don't worry, they're pretty thick so you'll have a good perch. Then, without Spaz seeing you, just jump from there onto his back and hold onto his mane real tight like, and Luke and I will fling open the door in front of you, and Spaz will just dash out the barn, alright?"
Connor didn't even have time to bob his head in agreement. It all happened so fast. He did as he was told, but the moment his romp landed onto that horse's back, all hell broke loose. Spaz leapt onto his hind legs, brandishing his front hooves in the air before speeding forth, crashing into the door and busting its hinges. Trying desperately to rid himself of the Conlon boy, the horse arched its back and pranced to and fro, spinning in circles and slamming its back hooves into random objects. But Connor gripped the silken strands of its mane until his knuckles were white, and both boy and horse were putting up quite a fight.
Ty and Luke watched on, somewhat amused and completely horrified. From the moment Spaz had broken free from the stable by his own doing, they knew something grave was bound to happen. Ty snatched a rope hanging from a nearby nail, tied a lasso, and flew after the runaway beast, his feet pounding against the grasslands with fierce determination. He had to capture the animal, he had to make it ceased its parade before something not calculated happened to Connor.
All Luke knew to do was run to his parents, and this he did without missing a beat. Flailing his arms as if they were covered with bed bugs, he yelled at the top of his lungs and ran back inside his house, calling for his mother and father and a miraculous help. "Spaz is out of his stable!" he shouted like a madman, nearly out of breath. "And Connor's on him!"
Dewey and Spot weren't acquainted with the seriousness of the episode. They were under the impression their middle son was simply trotting in the backyard atop a gentle pony of sorts. But when Jack immediately leapt out of his seat, throwing the book from which he'd been reading to the floor, and when Amy gasped sharply with an "oh God!" and followed after, the Conlon couple felt as if a sledgehammer had been smashed against their hearts. "What's wrong!" Dewey demanded of the experienced ranchers. "Which horse is Spaz, what's wrong!?"
She didn't receive an answer; by the time they reached the back patio, she didn't need one. She saw the weight of the situation for herself. She saw her precious young son trying to manage himself on the back of an angry paranoid horse, steadily nearing the dangers of the bank and forest. Without thought, she started for him, determined to save him with the fabled superhero powers of a mother. Spot was one step ahead of her, wondering if they'd catch up with the horse...if this was the last time he'd see his boy alive.
Zooming past them came Jack riding one of the other stabled horses, this one a former competitor in the Sheepshead races. Legs flickering like matches swiped across sandpaper, the beast practically flew across the backyard as Jack whistled and demanded an increase in speed. "Ty, get out of the way!" The words boomed from his lips with a striking authority that could coat one's beating heart with frostbite. The boy spun around, face pale at the sight of his father, and instantly jumped from the horse's path, thrown to the ground onto his romp by the speed at which it ran. His lasso in his hand, he looked down at the rope and gulped down hard. This was going to be bad.
Jack clenched his jaw and through gritted teeth beckoned the horse to move faster. Connor and Spaz were nearly out of reach...just a few more yards. And then it happened. He would later attest to his lungs feeling as if they had collapsed when he witnessed the sight from so short a distance. It was indescribable the impact Connor's blood curdling scream had on him when he witnessed...from so very near and yet with no ability to help....when he witnessed Spaz close in around a tree haphazardly, performing a jump that catapulted Connor from the horse into the trunk of the tree. He couldn't describe the goose bumps racing across his arms when Connor tried to arise to flee for his life, but ended up being pressed up against the tree by the horse's belly, knocked to the ground when the animal roughly flung its large head into his chest, and trampled upon when Spaz saw need for payback and thus brought up its fore hooves and slammed them into Connor's collarbone.
"Connor!" Jack jumped from his ride, lightly whipped Spaz's hindquarters with a leather thong in his hand and sent the Quarterhourse reeling off, neighing madly. "Connor, can you hear me?" He dropped to his knees, his heart hammering loudly within his ribcage. Blood oozed from the boy's nostrils and mouth, a shade of pink and purple underlining his eyes. Jack took Connor into his arms ever so tenderly, knowing it was possible the boy's neck was fractured, or worst...that certain vertebra fragments of his spinal cord out of joint. He cradled the young Conlon as if it were his own son and whispered into his ear. "Connor? Connor, you have to do something for me, okay? Nod for me, if you can hear me. Connor?"
Dewey was hysterical by this point. Seeing Connor's body so lifeless and immobile was enough to make her pull her hair out strand by strand and fall to the ground in mad sobs. "Connor!" She, too, fell to her knees beside Jack and with face stained by tears, held out her arms to take her son. Jack willingly gave up guardianship for the time being, carefully transferring the boy over, still keeping in mind what could and could not be broken. "Oh God, my baby!" Dewey pressed her face against that of her son and couldn't stop the tears from flowing as she wiped away his blood with her trembling hands.
Spot tried to be the stronger parent, knowing no medication or cure or rehabilitation would come from shed tears. "How far away is the nearest clinic, Jack? Is it walking distance? Or do we have to take a wagon?" As brave as he tried to be, though, his fear was evident in his eyes, how he kept looking from Jack to Connor to Jack again, how he clenched and unclenched his fists, how he bit his lip so hard specks of blood dotted the pink flesh.
"Don't worry, Dewey, it'll be alright...everything will be alright." Amy fought back the pain in her throat which beckoned her to cry alongside her close friend. Would everything be alright? Would Connor come to? She didn't have the answers, but she prayed to God things wouldn't have to happen like this. "Oh Lord," she whispered, averting her eyes upward, "please...please help?" Dewey seemed to hear her plead to divinity, and cried all the more harder because of it.
"It's not anywhere close to here. We'd have to harness up some Clydesdales and take the wagon. It won't take too long; come on, you can help me and we'd cut the time in half." He was already hurrying back to the barn house. "After that, I'd say it's only a twenty minute ride, but they'll admit him as soon as we check in." He dragged Spot off with him, away from the sight of the unconscious Connor.
At the sound of the ear-piercing hysteria, the Conlon and Kelly brood filed out as if undergoing a fire drill. Felicity was the first on the patio, but the sight before her only baffled her. For one, why was Ty sitting on the grass a few yards away from the mothers...and why was Mrs. Conlon on her knees with Connor on her lap? Adelaide nudged past her, and Rhett right behind the girl, narrowing his eyes...which fell upon a loose Spaz moments later. Who let Spaz loose!?
Ethan passed a hand through his curly locks and knew something terrible had passed as soon as he saw his mother prostrated with Connor in her arms, fiercely crying, her shoulders heaving up and down purposefully. He'd seen her like that several times before; when his younger siblings would fall and scrape their knee, or when she was trying to comfort one of them from the horrors of an under-the-bed monster. "Aww crap..." J.P., usually apathetic, shoved everyone aside, parting the crowds for himself and then standing at the very edge of the patio, glowering at the sight before him. That glower, however, quickly progressed into a look of sheer worry. "Holy sh...!"
"Adelaide!" Rhett suddenly called out, more so to interrupt J.P.'s foul language than to get his sister's attention. "Weren't you going to show me...uhm, the dollhouse you and Ruthie had made out of mom's hat boxes?" He took his little sister's hand and started to lead her away, but the little girl was stubborn and wrenched away with a pout. "Why is Connor not moving, Rhett!"
Andy and Ruthie, almost simultaneously, ran off to join their mother, knocking into J.P. who watched them for a moment before hurrying off as well. Ethan took a moment to glance at Felicity, showing with one single look how desperate he was for condolence. His guess as to what had happened was as good as the next child's, but whatever it was, it didn't look too favorable for Connor's life. "Did it have to do with that horse?" he asked, nodding toward Spaz. "What's wrong with him, the horse? Did it have to do with him?"
Felicity had no answers to deal him, and thus she only stared back, wishing words of sympathy could come to her. But for some reason, looking into Ethan's crystalline blue eyes rendered her speechless. Back at Dewey's side, Andy, Ruthie, and J.P. gathered around their mother and the unconscious Connor, pressing their questions all at once.
"What happened, mommy!"
"Is Connor alright, what's wrong with him? Why isn't he breathing?"
"Mommy, don't cry!"
J.P. ushered his younger siblings away from his mother and kneeled down beside her in a rare show of compassion. He glanced down at his brother, so pale and stricken with pain, and moistened his lips as if to speak. But no words would come, for he hadn't a clue what he could possibly say to alleviate the hurt of the matter. And so, he did the only thing he could think of. He placed a hand on his mother's forearm, told her "he's going to come through", and then took Connor into his own arms with the tenderness of a parent, embracing the younger closely and rising to his feet to head toward the barn house where the wagon was already being set up.
Dewey remained on the ground, holding her face in her hands, completely struck with sorrow of immeasurable magnitude. Time seemed to stop everywhere for the young mother. Amy massaged her shoulders and cried along, knowing she'd feel just as lost had it been one of her own children.
"Do you need help?"
J.P. turned to find himself being followed by Rhett. He clenched his jaw. "No."
"Here's a wet cloth," the boy said, ignoring the other's reply. He placed the dampened material onto Connor's forehead. "You might want to wipe the dirt from his face and arms too, just so you don't get any germs on his scratches. The horses are almost harnessed up, so my dad'll get him to the clinic in no time."
J.P. looked at him warily, summing him up in one swift glare before he nodded in acceptance of the aid and softly uttered a "thank you."
It was the start of a vast uniting.
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