Disclaimer: Credit for characters and dialogue goes to their respective creators.
Author's Note: I am not a native Spanish speaker.

At nights, after dinner, we satin the family room of John's home, surrounding the fire ,reading from the daily newspaper. We all took turns: Dick, Doc, Me, Charley, Chavez and Steve.

Steve was the last of the Regulators to read,
"There are plenty of men...who will never se-secede–"

"Succeed." John corrected.

"Who will never succeed anywhere."

"Got a whole room full of them, right here." Dick smiled, John glanced at him.

"Well done. William?"

Billy looked up, a little confused, then noticed Steve handing him the paper,
"Yeah, sure." Billy smiled, but didn't take the paper.

"Well, excuse me, Billy; very sorry to offend you. We're congregated to learn to read and write. You need more than the skill with a firearm to succeed in the New World, Billy. So, take up The Journal and start where the other boy left off, or you can go straight back to your home on the streets."

Billy took the paper, watching John.

John was very set on all of his boys, and I, to know proper English: how to read and write it, and none of us were against it. I had come to America knowing how to read, write and speak proper English, my father had taught me and my mother had insisted.

The reading Billy gave was very unexpected. Billy had seems to be no less than any vagrant on the streets, but his reading skills were impeccable. His reading almost won a standing ovation from John, "Splendid! A splendid reading, William! Thank you." John stood to leave the room, "Goodnight gentlemen and lady."

We chorused our "goodnights" and waited for John to leave.

As soon as he had gone down the hall and closed the door to his bedroom, I got up from my seat next to Chavez and went into the kitchen. I opened one of the cabinets and shuffled a few boxes, cans and jars. Behind the food were ten clean glasses and five bottles of whiskey.

Wednesday was our drinking night. John knew, but pretended not to, as long as I kept it hidden and kept his employees sober enough for the morning. Waking at five in the morning with a pounding headache is not a very good feeling.

I grabbed seven of the glasses and all the bottles of whiskey. I met the boys, who had all ready made their way outside, a little ways from the house and the hog pens. They had just started a fire when I reached them and handed a glass to each. Three bottles were passed around and glasses were filled. We started this a six o'clock, sitting around the fire, sipping our alcohol.

Dick, Charley, Steve, Billy, Chavez, Me and Doc.

"Why do we always have to drink from glasses?" Steve asked about an hour and forty-five minutes into our time. I answered without even looking across the fire at him,
"Because none of us actually want to drink after you."

I was hunched over, staring into the fire with my second empty glass clasped between my hands. I turned my attention to my hands, they were barely visible beneath my brother's coat. Had it really been that long ago?

"Hey, Sam? You okay?"

I looked up at Doc, who sat next to me, and smiled,
"Yeah, just thinking." I went back to staring at the fire, the boys went back to talking, but I could still feel a pair or two of eyes on me.

The group and I stayed out another hour before I decided to go inside to bed,
"I think I'm gonna go inside." I slurred my words as I slowly stood, "Give me the bottles and I'll get rid of them tomorrow." The boys handed me the three empty bottles and the two full ones and I headed inside, tripping on the bottom step of the porch, still feeling those eyes.

-----

"Can you believe it's all ready been a year?" asked Dick. What was he talkin' about?

"I know, seems like just yesterday Tulio was still around." said Doc, who had stopped drinking after his second.

"What're you guys talkin' about?" I asked, watching the five others sitting around.

"Tulio McMalley is Samantha's brother." Chavez's voice took a dangerous tone.

"Was..." Steve mumbled. I looked to Doc for an answer, he only stared at the house behind me.

"He was murdered by Murphy men, a year ago." Dick took a drink and continued, "After we found him, Sam went out and slaughtered a few dozen of Murphy's cattle."

"They didn't catch her?" I asked, wondering about the Spanish girl.

Charley shuffled his feet. "Not in the act, but they knew it was her. Murphy didn't think anything of it, for some un-Godly reason, for once he had nothing to do with her brother."

I turned back to look at the house. One room was lit in the dark house, and in that room was Sam. She sat at the table, her head in her hands.

"Whatever you do, Billy, don't speak about any of this to Sam. She can do more harm than you think." Doc warned, still staring at the lit window.

I then knew what she had meant earlier that day. I had to know what he meant,
"What do you mean?"

They all gave me a look, whether it be angry or shocked.

"Well, last time anyone said anything to her, she shot off two of their toes and a finger."