The next time Sheriff and Monty talked, Jesse was there. It was later in the afternoon, Mater was in town with some friends. Jesse was teaching Monty about basic horse care, how to groom and lead them. It gave the teenager something to do during the uncomfortable conversations. Lightning stood dutifully as Monty ran the soft brush over and over his shoulder. Sheriff sat on a hay bale on the other side of the tie up rail, Jesse on the over side of Lightning. It was obvious that Monty found the horses intimidating, but he also found comfort in their mass. Horses didn't have malicious intent, they didn't judge you on your reading and writing, but on the way you treated them. The way you treat an animal is very telling on the type of person you are. Despite Monty's history as a school trouble maker and silver tongue, he held a healthy respect for the creatures.

The horses wouldn't turn around and hurt him, not on purpose. It was reassuring.

"I'm glad you're still up for talking with me, Monty," said Sheriff. Monty only nodded, he couldn't look at the man in this conversation. But he didn't think Sherif minded much. "Do you think you could tell me a bit about the divorce between your parents?"

Over the back of the horse Jesse saw the brush in Monty's hand twitch as it ran over Lightning's shoulder.

"Not a lot, I was young. Lived with my mom for a few years, weekends with Elliot. I was...ten? Mom died when I was twelve, moved back in with Elliot. I don't really know why they divorced, lots of arguing though. Mom married young, I wasn't planned. She made a mistake getting married but she was scared."

He shrugged and switched brushes, crouching down to work at the crusted mud around Lightning's legs.

Sheriff scribbled on his notebook rapidly. "You mentioned your father was never the same after your mom died. What do you mean?"

"I dunno," snapped Monty angrily. His head swung towards Sheriff with an ugly glare on his face before his demeanor softened. He stood pressed his palms into Lightning's shoulder and neck. "Sorry," he murmured. "He was always cranky, just a little more so."

"So instead of, say yelling, he might throw things or push people?" Sheriff pressed gently. He wasn't getting enough to put Monty's scum of a father behind bars. They needed more. Frustratingly, Monty shrugged. Suppressing his own feelings, Sheriff smiled kindly and stood up. "Well, it's getting late. I might pop 'round in a few days after I've got an update from Clint and ask a few more questions. Jesse, I'd like a word if you wouldn't mind."

Jesse obliged and they walked towards Sheriff's patrol car. The man sighed. "I don't think he's going to give us much more. And I say that because I think he's scared of what would happen. He needs reassurance for what comes after this. I was wondering what your thoughts would be on adopting him. I know you only originally signed up for respite or emergency care but…"

Jesse sucked in a breath. It was a lot to think about. Sheriff saw this.

"I don't want to pressure you or anything, but if Monty knew he might have a long term place here, and I reckon he likes it here too, he might be more obliged to open up."

Sheriff had a point, Jesse admitted that. But there were so many factors. He couldn't promise Monty a place here and CPS place him somewhere completely different. Sheriff concurred with the sentiment.

"I guess it's a risk we'll have to take."

"I couldn't betray his trust like that," Jesse frowned.

"Then tell him the truth. You'd be willing to house him until he's of age, but there's no guarantee that he'll be placed here permanently."

It still didn't sit right with Jesse. "You heard him. He says he'd rather be left there than his life disrupted."

Sheriff sighed, "you really believe that? That he was happy at home? He doesn't know if what comes after is better or worse than staying with his father."

"I'm not making promises to that boy that I can't keep nor am I giving him hope I can't fulfil!" Snapped Jesse.

"Hope is all we have in the end, Hud!" Sheriff countered, raising his voice. He sighed and stepped towards the patrol car. "I'll see you soon."

Jesse smiled grimly, it was only a small argument between old friends but it raised problems he'd have to face eventually. He pinched the bridge of his nose and turned towards the house.

"Hey, Jesse!" Mater called and jogged up behind him. He just arrived back from going into town.

Jesse fixed a smile, "what can I do for you?"

Mater took on a rare look of seriousness, a weight was on his brow. "I don't know much about Monty but I ain't blind. I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with 'der Sheriff. He's right, hope is all we have sometimes. And I know Monty's had no hope for too damn long. Sometimes all you need is summat to make ya realise things do get better."

His eyes flicked over Mater's shoulder to where Monty was taking Lightning into the stable.

"Only thing is, Mater, false hope can kill a man."

Mater ground his heel into the dirt absentmindedly. "Well, it sure ain't my place to say nothing...but I reckon no hope is just as bad."

Dinner was a quiet affair. Even Mater's seemingly endless energy seemed to be diminished at the end of a day's work. Same as the night before Mater retired to bed soon after. He lived a simple, hard working life. Monty wished for that kind of mundanity in his own. To wake up and know the routine, and enjoy it. Monty remained too wired, too anxious to settle down.

"Fancy a card game?" Jesse proposed as he folded a tea-towel. Monty smiled appreciatively.

"Heads-up?" he suggested. It was one of the few games he knew.

Jesse turned around to look at him, a frown on his face. "Two person poker? Who taught you that?"

"My dad," he answered nonchalantly as Jesse plucked a deck of cards from a side table in the living room. "He was into poker."

Right.

This was not helping Jesse's perception of Elliot McQueen.

"Successful?" He asked dryly, already knowing the answer. Monty scrunched his face and shook his head.

"When I was nine he put me into the pot, by the time the game finished they were too stoned to remember why I was on the table," Monty snorted at the memory as the pair sat down at the table. Jesse couldn't hide the look of shock and horror on his face. "What? It was just a joke…" He mumbled but he knew it was a weak lie. He had no doubts if they were sober he would have gone off with the winner.

They only played a few rounds before Monty's eyes began to droop, he actually had to try and beat the older man. Unlike his father who had too many tells and always dropped his hand, Jesse was a seasoned player who refused to give any signs of what was on his cards.

Tiredly Monty mumbled, semi-lucidly, "you're s'much better at cards than m' dad."

Jesse quirked an eyebrow and smiled. "Really?"

Monty's eyes fell closed. "Hate 'im. Fuck'n sucks." His eyes opened and stared unnervingly into Jesse's eyes. The exhaustion and anxiety must have rendered him a little loose lipped. "In fourth-grade we made father's day cards. 'My dad's a superhero b'cos…' You wanna know something?"

"My ears are wide open, kid," Jesse murmured. His heart ached as Monty spoke.

Monty leaned back into the seat. It was an interesting display of personality. He held himself so highly strung that the minute he felt safe enough or was just flat out exhausted, he acted like an honest drunk, answering questions that weren't asked.

"My dad's not a superhero. Superheroes don' hurt people."