A/n: Hi everyone. This is Kiks with an update after... who knows how long. A little over eight months according to the Updated status. Anyway, hope people are still around who enjoyed this story back in it's prime. In any case, I know there are several people who will be happy to see it updated. This chapter has been accumulating dust over the last six months or so, and was only recently picked back up again. It's been worked and reworked over several times, so forgive me if it's still a bit choppy. My skills have been put on haitus for a while now and I've just begun to pull it out of hiding little by little. It's been a hard year for writing, but I'm hoping that I'll get back into the swing of it soon. Now, onto other matters, I know Rock will be a little shocked to see this.She's on a mini-vacation at the moment and doesn't know I'm doing this. She has of course read the extremely rough draft of it, but she was waiting to do the RR's (which you will find none of, sadly enough. Though, I highly admire Tensleep for her audacity to continue to do them, I'm afraid Rock is bored with the idea of them as it is, so I myself won't be putting forth much effort on the individual responses. However, if you leave a signed review, I'll get back to you with a little thank you :) ) until I had become satisfied enough with my personal tweaking of the chapter to post. But since she's gone, I'll just do it myself, lol.

Dedication: To Tens who has nudged me in this direction ever-so subtly for as long as I went on haitus. She was having a bit of a rough day today, and hinted that she'd like to see this, so I'm posting it for her. I hope you like it :)

Disclaimer: Oddly enough, I don't remember if we have to do this every chapter or not. But just in case... Rock and I own everyone aside from the original characters. 'Nough said.

Enjoy!

Chapter Nine: How the West was Run... Er... Won

(Pony's POV)

"Where you from again?"

"Uh, Tulsa."

I couldn't hear myself think in this circle of grizzlies. They all looked so tall and barbaric… Their B.O. was overpowering my sight.

"Tulsa. You hear that boys? Say it again, kid."

"Why?"

"I wanna hear your accent. Say it again." He jostled my shoulder.

Who the hell was he trying to kid? If I had an accent, he had by far the worst drawl I've ever come across. He reminded me of those commercials for timeshares in the Guadalupe Mountains. A slow talking cowboy who couldn't hardly annunciate his vowels enough to let the country know what he was trying to sell. I had much more on this wiseass. So much more.

However, years of living on the East Side provided me with enough experience to know that relaying my insight to him wouldn't feel as good to my bones as I might hope for. He looked a good six feet tall and had the weight of a pro-wrestler gone to seed. Aside from sharing the common stench of the others, he wore a strong coating of English Leather that seemed to be imbedded in his clothing. Nothing was by far worse than heavy cologne on top of disdaining body odor. I would've preferred the odor over that any day. Then there was his teeth – striking white teeth peering through pursed lips on sunburned skin. He looked as painful as he must've felt.

"Tulsa." I grinned impishly and plucked his thick fingers off my person. "So, don't touch me. Hear?"

The kid cracked a grin and clapped me on the back. "This is my kind of guy, Joe. You've got good pickin's. I think we'll have a right ol' good time with him."

We shared a decrepit smile... Yeah.

Sure, I could deal with some new friends. And I hoped to God that's what he meant. I didn't intend to walk away from this place without any. If I was going to be stuck here for this long, I was going to make it worth my time and try to enjoy it. If that meant being friends with Joe and his pals, maybe that was the way to go. Although, my immediate impressions of these goonies weren't exactly splendid, but who was I to make that call? Perhaps their shoving and teasing little boys in the parking lot was meant in a friendly manner... If it was, I'm not so sure those kids were up on the joke. I ain't never seen feet carry someone that fast. So, yeah, you go ahead and have a great time with me, Buddy. But if you pick and prod at my weaknesses until I snap and come falling down like a torpedo on a target point, I'll grant you with a reality check that'll bounce big time.

"Yeah, I know. You can thank Jack and Mel later." Joe grabbed my shirt by the shoulder and pulled me closer to him, his arm draping over my shoulders. He leaned back against a wooden pole marking a parking spot in the dirt lot. "Pon, this is Wes,"— he indicated the blond gorilla who'd been talking to me – "Jesse, Travis, and Mitch."

I nodded to each in turn. "Nice to meet ya." What else was there to say? I'm sorry you smell like cow shit and look like you've been burning alive in hell the last week? Oh, and by the way, don't feel obligated to like me because I won't be here all that long anyway?

Jesse and Travis were brothers. Even without being told, I knew. They looked too much alike to not. Jesse had black hair – thick, shiny, and combed back in half-hardy waves. He distinctly reminded me of someone dressed in an Elvis get-up at a costume party. His bold features and lean stature gave me the strong impression that he and Joe were neck in neck when it came to being the lead man with the ladies. And he looked like he was ready to knock anything flat if it crossed him wrong. He hadn't said much yet, but I knew he was playing it cool.

Travis, on the other hand – though he looked nearly identical to Jesse with the same hair color and features – wasn't considerably as well groomed. His hair dropped in greasy strands around his eyes and ears, and multi-toned spotted stubble smeared across his jaw blending into his long side burns. He reminded my of myself back in Windrixville -- filthy and unhygienic -- only on purpose instead. I shuddered to think someone would actually choose to be that way. Why was he in with Joe? He looked like he'd be more comfortable in a pigpen. Joe didn't appear to be impressed with trash, so what made Travis so special?

But even as I met Joe's friends and considered the possibility of getting to know them, I couldn't stop staring at the little landmarks around us. I had never been anywhere like this before. Not even Windrixville was like this. When Joe said we were going into town I was expecting something more along the lines of the city. But I guess when you come from hickville you really mean it when you call it a town. I don't think I'd be so generous in calling it that. Resembling a dwelling from some wild west fiction, Fisk only consisted of a gas station with one pump, a little convience store, and a tiny post office that received mail once a week. They had a diner named Benny's Burgers, which was where we had found ourselves. It was the lone hangout of the place and it appealed to most everyone. There was twangy music reverberating out of the open doors and a couple of show girls walking around waitressing grungy men. Not surprisingly there weren't too many women and children in there, though it didn't appear to hold an age restriction.

"And that –" Joe started, and I turned to see what he was looking at – he smiled as one of the showgirl waitresses, clad in high heeled pink boots, a low cut shirt, and a skirt that could've easily belonged to Angela Shepard, spotted us and swaggered out of Benny's, "– is Darla."

"Is she your…?" I questioned, figuring he'd know very well what I was getting at.

"Hell no," he whispered. "Ain't no guy ever gonna get her tied down. And you ain't gonna try either, ya hear?"

"I ain't deaf," I muttered and shrugged away as he released me. Speaking of trash...

"Joe!" she called while bounding over. "Who's this you're bringin' around here?"

"C'mon, Dar. Don't you remember me tellin' you 'bout my foster brother?" He smiled sheepishly and it was clear he had it bad for her. He greeted her with a hug that none of the others seemed interested in giving her and swung his other arm over her shoulders when he was done.

"Ohhh," she grinned. "Is this him?"

She winked at me.

No one noticed.

"Yeah, this is him. Name's Ponyboy Curtis."

The brunette beanpole Mitch, if I remember correctly, sniggered and whispered something in Wes's ear. The pair of them laughed and I knew exactly what it was over, and it was rather un-amusing. Creativity and regard seemed null to these lackluster wannabe's.

"Nice to meet you." She leaned forward and shook my hand, making it very clear to me what Joe lusted after. That pig.

"You too." I smiled. At least someone was treating me human. She didn't even giggle or crack a wider grin at my name. Maybe that was another reason he liked her. She already struck me as genuinely nice. But I doubted it. His mind was on other aspects she possessed, along with his wandering eyes.

Joe cleared his throat and tore his eyes away. "Y'all up for a burger?" He brushed Darla's blond bangs out of her eyes. "Or a bobby pin?"

"Very funny, Joe," she sneered.

He laughed and waited for another response from the rest of us. "Pony? You up for some Benny's Burgers and pool? It's on me."

"Yeah. Sounds good." I shrugged. I wasn't going to turn it down. It sounded pretty dang good right then. I was starved.

---

"No… Not like that," Joe crooned. "Like this."

Sliding in next to Darla he adjusted the pool cue and placed his hands over hers. He was pretty close for being strictly her friend, and he was beginning to remind me a bit of Steve when he did that. Steve always had a sly way of moving in on girls. He once joked that maybe some day I would learn from his tricks, and I had laughed at him. Mocked him, in fact...

The thought made my stomach churn uneasily for the umpteenth time that day. Steve... Two-Bit. I wondered how they were and if they had made it to boot camp alright, and how it was treating them. They would fair well, I knew it, but at the same time I was scared for them. They were reluctantly being shipped off to a humid jungle where people died every day. They would be watching their fellow soldiers die at their sides, and they didn't need that. Having already witnessed a friend of theirs die, they didn't need to experience that again. They didn't deserve it. It would shatter than. Men return scarred, men from picture perfect lives. If they returned scarred, who's to say a bunch of greasers wouldn't? I wished all four were in it together. Maybe they could support one another and make it all right. But hoping doesn't do any good.

"You see how it slides easily? But doesn't go off target?"

"Yeah."

"Now, just aim… and shoot." He gently swayed her arms, causing the white ball to collide with the solid red.

It missed the socket by a far cry.

"Nice one," Jesse scoffed.

"Shut it, asshole." Joe backed up and slid back onto his stool. "Like I'm gonna score for the other team."

You would think those two hated each other with the way they talked. I hadn't heard them say anything decent to one another in the last two hours, but they hadn't been getting any worse. They stuck to the same level of scorn, never varying. I watched half tensed up, just waiting for a fight to break out… then they'd surprise me and start laughing over some insult that no one else got. They were an anomaly unto themselves.

"If the two of ya would shut the fuck up maybe y'all could concentrate better." Wes picked up his pool cue and walked around the other side of the table. He bent over a couple of times and stood back up, measuring his shot. "Watch and learn, pals." He gave a sharp jab at the white ball which hit the striped green, it sank and white then rebounded around to knock the striped yellow into another pocket.

It amazed me that the gorilla, who could barely stand on his two feet, could show up Joe like that. Joe's eyes decreased to a crescent, black sliver, glinting with a hint of fury at being deliberately mocked in front of Darla and the rest. But even as a malevolent smirk crossed Joe's face, Wes laughed and took his seat again. It was my shot now. I was never too bad a player at pool, so I wasn't worried about making a fool of myself. Perhaps being good at their favorite sport would win me some points. I wasn't banking on it, but it couldn't hurt either.

"You sure you can handle the cue, Ponyboy?" Darla asked. "I think I've got the hang of it now if you want some help."

I could feel patches behind my ears growing warm, but I kept a cool face. Joe would slaughter me if I took help from his girl, especially after his ego deflation a moment ago. Maybe not now, but I could imagine him laying into me later. I hate to admit it, but I foresee him with the upper hand throughout the duration of my stay. But not only did he have the talent of causing me to doubt, but right now I wasn't itching for a gang of burly cowboys to come hunting for me. He'd have them sicked on me before I could even come up with an escape plan. No, I figure I'll let Joe play his games and get on his good side. There's no use in playing with fire when you're the fuel.

"The hang of it, huh?" Joe scoffed and nuzzled her lightly, his arms still around her. "You can barely keep the ball on the table."

She laughed, and brushed him off.

I faked a little grin. "No, but thanks, Darla. I think I've got it." I leaned over the table and sized up my options. With a clear shot lined up to the right pocket, I made a direct hit and sunk it.

"Well, waddya know?" Jesse snickered. "Your little friend knows what he's doing. Good work, Ponyboy."

I gave him the pleasure of a tiny half-smile before standing back up against the wall.

My stomach was progressively knotting up more and more as time went on with these guys. And it wasn't all from the prominent hostility. They were being all right and friendly enough, now that a couple of hours had passed, but I was ready to go back to the ranch and dwell a little more in my self-pity. Happy as I was that Joe wanted me to meet his friends, I was ready for a few more friendly faces away from them.

-.-

Some while later I was back in the kitchen at the house. Joe was upstairs where he had some kid laughing. I don't know what it was about him, but those kids got a kick out of him and he liked to play with them. I guess it was better than the alternative, but I would've never guessed. I was sitting at the table, snacking on some chips and leafing through a couple of brochures on Coleman Acadamy that Melanie had picked up for me. It was on their dress code and code of conduct. Pretty much standard, though I figured these guys were serious about sticking to the book. The school I just left... well... the same couldn't be said for them. I didn't mind, though. I had no problem sticking to the rules. It couldn't be that tough.

Melanie was stirring stew on the stove top and kept adding dashes of chili powder ever couple of minutes. Imagine the steam blowing out of my ears after eating that... Yeah, that'll be fun. No, but it really did smell good. I knew she was a good cook from the off, but it never occurred to me that someone could be that great of a cook at all times. It just didn't happen around our parts. But it was something I could definitely get used to.

"So, how are you feeling about school, now?" She turned around a smiled, wiping a bit of beaded steam off her forehead.

"Not bad. It looks like a good school." I shrugged. What else was there to say? It was a private school and I'd be teased for the rest of my life for going to it. But it was a private school and I could easily get into college... "And a good one to put down for colleges."

"Oh they are! Their college enrollment turn out is over ninety percent. Scholarships are a little less than that, but still decent enough. If you have Coleman on your application, you're pretty much accepted to any college, so long as you've got good grades, which I know isn't foreign to you, now is it?" She laughed and added another couple of dashes of that powder to her soup.

"Nope. I do all right." To say anything more really wouldn't do much for my reputation around here. The last thing I wanted was to brag about my school record and grades and appear persnickety. Two-Bit always said I had a tendency to do that whether I was aware of it or not.

"Well, maybe you'll be a good influence on Joe. God knows he needs it..." Muttering to herself she switched the burner to off and moved the pot away.

That's what I was afraid of. Being set up as an example. I didn't want to be anyone's exemplar and I'm sure as hell no one wants to look up to me. Especially not Joe. I had the impression he didn't look to anyone but himself. He had me so confused right now, but I knew well enough that he wasn't someone to contend with. He wasn't the fooling around type and I wasn't itching to experiment to see what it'd take to get him to be.

"Did I hear my name?" Joe sauntered into the kitchen, grabbing a handful of my chips. "Better'a been good, 'cause you know I won't put up with nothin' else." He grinned at Melanie and plopped down into the seat across from me.

"We were just talking about where you guys went this afternoon." She took off her apron and hung it on a hook next to the sink. I smiled weakly at her lie and knew full-well why she had done it, though I didn't expect her to. "Pony says you hung out with the guys and Darla. Says they remind him off the kids in his neighborhood. Now, I hope that's a good thing..."

Kids from my neighborhood? A white lie that wasn't too far from the truth; I'd told her that they reminded me of some people I'd met before, that they seemed like they wanted to be the type to fit in IN my neighborhood. But hey, I ain't gonna stop her from lying. She must've known what she was doing, otherwise I don't think she'd have done it to begin with.

Joe's eyes shifted from her to me and back to her. He leaned back and huffed a little, smirking with a little jock nod. "'Course it's good. If they're all as soft as Ponyboy, wha'da'zat tell you? Huh, Pony?"

"Uh huh..."

"Oh, I know you've got yourself some good friends," Melanie laughed. "I'm just teasing you, Joey. Now go wash up so we can eat. You look like you been messing around in the stalls again."

"Yeah, all right." He stood up and wiped salt from my potato chips off the corners of his mouth. "You say it like it's a bad thing..."

"It isn't. Just go do it. You too, Ponyboy. For good measure."

It almost felt like I had a mother again. I can't remember one time that Darry told me to go wash up. He himself didn't mind a little dirt and grit in his food. But it wasn't a bad thing. On the contrary, it was kind of nice.

-.-

A/n: I hope you guys liked it! Please review. It's only common curteousy. :) Flame and well... It's a flame. It can kiss my little ass. Lol, jk.

Kiks