the next two days are busy; he doesn't see dallas once, nor does he get down to the stables. everyone's busy with all manner of events around the rodeo and things associated with it, including him as people come in and out of the bar, thirsty and eager to talk or break into fights. it's good for tips, at least.

who he does see, however, is ponyboy. he shows up the next night at the rooster, dressed the same; most of the bar doesn't notice. there's not much time to talk; he just gets a quick glass of water, waves at two bit and then he's lost among the sea of people.

the night after that, two bit can see him in the back of the bar, near the doorway. he's talking to one of the greasers there, leaning against the wall. he looks intent at whatever the other greaser is saying, brows furrowed, expression serious. it's juxtaposed with the book that's tucked into one of the pockets of his brown jacket and the fact that he just looks so young in comparison to the other, more hardened greaser.

the other greaser breaks away and there's a disappointed look on ponyboy's face. two bit watches him open the book he has, fish a pencil out of his other pocket and write something down. once he's done, he turns away from the bar, glancing out into the dark night. then he looks in again, catches two bit's eye and waves.

two bit waves back, saying, "you wanna drink or anything?"

"nah, i'm good, two!" he waves back, and then he disappears out from the bar and into the night.

that seems to be his favorite thing to do with fang, two bit notices. there's a bit of a delay for the start for the rodeo — a few steers didn't come through and some people take it as bad luck and leave while others take it for good luck and stay. two bit takes it for what it is: happenstance.

in the meantime, his days go into a noticeable pattern, always getting water for dallas and his horse, shooting the shit, comparing the riders. at night, sometimes he catches fang coming out of the shadows to walk beside ponyboy in the streets, ponyboy always either talking with someone out of ear shot or leaving right when two bit is coming. fang always seems oddly polite for a wolfdog that could open his jaws up and easily take off ponyboy's hand. why he prefers to let ponyboy scratch his ears, two bit doesn't know but is grateful for the choice.

the few times ponyboy is in the bar, he's not very talkative. he usually orders something to eat and reads dime novels in the back when he isn't bothered. a few times, two bit catches him at the fence again, near the sheep.

more than once, a few people seem wary of fang; jack yells at him to get away from the rooster, and the wolfdog snarls in response before slipping away; another time, irma shrieked when she spotted him beneath the booth ponyboy was sitting in and both high tailed it.

tonight, on the eve of all the actual festivities, they're by the sheep again. ponyboy's tucked his dime novel away, the sheep either asleep or shifting around and two bit beside him, handing him a beer. he knows — somehow — that fang is close by, can almost feel him as he licks at his chapped lips and says, "where you planning to go when this is all over? back to school?"

"no," ponyboy blows a smoke ring out, watching it drift in the night sky. "thought i was gonna but school ain't for me." he looks back at two bit, the lantern light illuminating his eyes. "what about you? you ain't the schoolyard type either. how'd you get to bar tending?"

"old man told me i might as well be one with how much i drink," two bit shrugs, remembering the fight they'd had, the last time he'd seen his father. "he wasn't exactly all that wrong about it, and i don't mind it. gives me people to talk to, and i do make a better drink than a teetotaller." there's a half grin on ponyboy's face that two bit returns. "sides, i wasn't too smart in school anyway and i ain't a good cowboy either. can always work if you can pass along drinks and keep up gossip." he blows out smoke too, able to see fang shift in the shadows.

he knows that that wolfdog isn't actually part dog; no dog would be that big. it's still a comfort to at least hope he's part dog as fang's amber eyes focus on him and then shift to ponyboy. ponyboy lets out a low whistle, and fang stands up, loping out of the darkness to him. two bit watches as the wolf nuzzles against ponyboy's hand, tongue darting out to lick at his fingers. ponyboy coos at him, then glances at two bit. "dunno, y'seem smart to me," he shrugs, fingers rubbing at fang's maw. "i get it, though. specially with some of the people who end up there."

"sheltered rich kids who don't know their heads from their own asses," two bit fills in the blanks himself. "and everyone who should be there ain't." it's the way of things, that he's understood it. "like i said though, i like being out here, i like being at the bar. it pays better than anything else around here and the cowboys aren't as bad as people make 'em out to be, most of the time." he chews at his lip even as he says it. "you seen dallas recently? i can't seem to find him whenever i go lookin' these days."

ponyboy nods, and fang settles into his lap, about taking up half of ponyboy's body as he does so, making the kid grimace. two bit laughs — fang's so big, he must be half crushing him with it. "i seen 'em, you need me to pass a message to him? think he's busy with all the rodeo shit to prep for," he squirms, but fang is resolute, apparently.

two laughs around his beer. "yeah — tell 'im to be careful out here. told him once already but i dunno if he actually got the message. like i said, most cowboys ain't too bad. some though, they get bitter, angry at any rider getting too much attention." he takes another swig of beer, shaking his head. "they like to do dirty tricks, sabotage equipment and it got ugly a few years back — i heard they actually ended up killing some rider's horse, deliberately. i don't wanna see that happen to him or his lil nag."

silence fills in between them which isn't that uncommon; ponyboy doesn't talk too much unless he really needs to and what he's said, two bit hopes it's sunk in. he glances over; ponyboy seems contemplative, running his thumb over fang's maw again, the wolf licking his chops as his thumb moves up to his ear.

two bit doesn't know him enough to tell what he's thinking. just that ponyboy says quietly, "i'll let him know. thanks, two."

a bit of relief fills him at that. he passes his beer to ponyboy, who finishes it off. jokingly, he offers it to fang, who about bats it out of his hands. both of them laugh at that.

in the morning, two bit goes down to the diner, feeling sore from the walk back from the stables back to his place. all he wants is some coffee and some eggs before he had to pop down to the bank.

what greets him is peggy, her eyes wide, waving him over to the counter before he can say anything. and if peggy wanted him over there, then two bit was going to get to her as soon as he could. "what's going on, pegs?"

"you're not gonna believe this," she whispers to him in a way that has two bit hurrying up, "you know they ran out that old wolf pack a few years back, right?" two bit shakes his head and peggy rolls her eyes. "okay — couple years back, they had a lot of wolves out here, used to attack the stock all the time. they finally went out, made sure those bastards weren't coming back — til today." her voice drops a notch. "they found some sheep missing and only two got recovered. the other three? only found a carcass."

immediately, two bit is on the alert with that information. "they gonna have to suspend shit for a bit to go after them? that's pretty bold."

peggy shrugs. "not sure, truth be told. so far it's a one off, but if they have more, they might have to." she looks two bit over, obviously wanting for more.

and that's her right. two bit is thinking of one wolf in particular that morning as he gets breakfast and leaves. the cowboys that show up at the rooster are all murmuring about it too; a few of the older ones remember the last wolf hunt, too.

when dallas shows up around noon with his pony, two bit takes the moment to ask him about it. the horse plays with ice as dallas listens, head cocked. "it's just one sheep, they're jumpy out here, huh?"

"think they're just itching to do something before the rodeo gets in, use that energy," two bit frowns, tossing a piece of ice into the trough. "you ready for the events and all?"

"the kid and i are gonna be fine," dallas says, boastful. "all i gotta do is give him his head at the right time and hold on to any sonuvabitch who thinks he can throw me." his grin gets wider, teeth sharp in his face. "we'll make the paper, easily."

two bit bites down the inside of his cheek. "just — be careful. i know i'm sounding like a nag, but i wouldn't trust most of these guys when events start up for as far as i can throw 'em."

"i been around rougher," dallas pushes back, self assured in a way that's both interesting and something that makes two bit feel cautious. he lets the issue drop as the sound of more people in the rooster swell up, his signal to leave.

that evening isn't all that tense, at first as two bit gets to serving. he's got more money in his pockets now, and most people seem to have mostly glossed over the sheep. they're all hyping each other up over the rodeo, two bit tuning most of them out as he moves about the bar.

"where's your dog?" it's said by jack, voice loud over the din of the bar. two bit thinks he's just being a dick until jack's voice gets raised, sharper, "i'm talking to you! where's the dog?"

two bit looks up from taking the order of an older man to see ponyboy looking at jack, frowning at him, jaw tense. "that ain't none of your business—"

"he ain't just a dog," jack brusquely pushes back, hand on his hips. people are starting to get quiet, to stare at him. "and we killed the last pack out here. where is he? you ain't feeding him sheep are you?"

"he feeds himself, and he ain't eating sheep," ponyboy straightens up more, unafraid of the older man. no one's going to point out that he's too young to be in the bar or that jack's got a bad temper on him. two bit stands nervously behind the counter though as ponyboy keeps his ground, voice steady. "if someone ate them sheep, it might be any one of those wolves you missed the first time."

there's a tense moment where two bit thinks jack might lose it, hit him. two bit doesn't want a fight, and he speaks up, "they were with me when those sheep were getting killed." eyes turn to him, and two bit cocks his head to ponyboy as he continues, "so unless that wolf can be in two places at once, he didn't do it."

jack and ponyboy both eye each other, and it's jack who backs down first, angrily leaving. two bit breathes a sigh of relief as he goes, but ponyboy lingers for a moment, eyes flicking towards two bit in what's clearly a thank you. then he turns and leaves.

two bit doesn't have the time to seek him out. the bar is busier than normal, they're short staffed. by the time he finishes up for the night, he's utterly exhausted, staggering back to his apartment to sleep it off.

he thinks he hears a howl in the distance as he shuts his eyes and gets to sleep. apparently, his mind is too tired to give him proper dreams: he just relives the memory of the last drive away from tulsa, of the way he had felt beside his father in the car as they'd left, the way he had felt he had made the only decision he could at the time.

he dreams of the way it felt in the car, of feeling that this way, maybe his mother and sister would be happier, better. he wakes up thinking of their faces, and it makes two bit hunger for a drink, for cigarettes, for anything to make up for that choice he'd been force to make too young.

he's got to live with it, though. he's known that for a long time and the only way he can even semi make amends is what he does once a month. he wastes little time draining the cans of beer he's got around the apartment; most of them are so old that it barely makes a difference. it's just enough to get him back in his head and body, to get the money together and head down to the bank.

they know him well enough by now, checking very little, sending the money along in minutes. the money he's sent is going to last them a month at least, and he licks his lips as he finishes up.

that's the easy part.

the hard part is putting coins into the telephone, and dialing his number, waiting for the phone to ring. a lot of the time, he wishes that his mother wouldn't pick up, that katie wouldn't pick up. it's a coward's way out, two bit knows. it makes him grip the receiver harder as the phone dials out, and right when he thinks no one will pick up, his mother does, her voice rough over the line, "mathews house, who's this?"

"mr. rogers, of course," two bit makes the crack over the line, and he can see the way his mother rolls her eyes over the line. "just calling about the delivery."

"bit soon for you to send money, isn't it?" she doesn't bite at the joke, not that he expected her to. "you making sure to make enough for you to eat?"

"you don't have to worry about me," he rebuffs her, itching for a drink just then, hearing the wear and tear on her voice. "you just worry about what you and katie are gonna spend it all on."

"keith," she sighs out, warm but tired. "you know—"

"i do," he shakes his head, feeling his eyes warm with unshed tears, with the fact that it really didn't have to be this way, that he wished he'd made a better choice all those years ago. "gotta keep you both okay and i know you ain't making all that much." there's a drop of silence on the line, and he wonders if she has more gray hair than before, if she's got more lines on her face. he wonders what katie looks like now, almost fourteen years old. he clears his throat, cradling the phone closer.

he knows that she can ask a lot of questions: why he was on his own so soon, where his father went, if what he was doing was really all that good and instead, two bit asks, "you hear anything about molly, at all?"

"no," her voice sounds as disappointed as he feels. "tried to talk to her mother, but you know that battle axe. she'd rather say three words you're not looking for than the five you want." his mother makes a frustrated sound. "if i hear anything, i'll be the first to tell you, i promise keith."

"thanks," he runs his thumb on the receiver, able to hear a car pass, wishing for more. wishing that his cousin was somewhere, anywhere in the world to be found. wishing he'd been there when she had been forced to leave home. wishing a whole lot for things he couldn't change, that they both knew. "i'll let you go on, get some sleep. love you, mom."

"love you too, keith. you be safe," she hangs up.

two bit hangs up to, leans against the booth. he tells himself that he could just go out, have as much drink as he can. that one day of losing money wouldn't be so bad now; and the rest of him knows that he can't do that anymore. that he was trying to fix things, not fuck it up again.

so he wipes clammy hands on his jeans, swallows up his own saliva in his mouth and goes to the rooster.

the rodeo was finally starting today, and it was vital he be there.

"welcome to the lazy e rodeo competition of 1969!" the announcer booms out over the loudspeakers, and two bit relaxes on the stands. despite his promise to himself not to, he's got a beer in hand as he watches from his seat.

it's a pretty damn good turn out; even some of the hippie sets have come out to see the rodeo this year and two bit relaxes as he watches everyone get their seats, cheer with anticipation or clap. he recognizes most of the riders out here, and those that he doesn't, he knows that either he will get acquainted — or they'll wash out and it won't matter.

thing is, he's most curious about dallas. he talked a lot of bullshit, had a lot of confidence in himself, and when two bit sees he's lined up for some pretty big events: bareback riding, steer wrestling, roping, and bronc riding.

all of those events are physical, and dallas — to be blunt — was built like a beanpole. he was lean, and to two bit didn't have a ton of obvious muscle on him. that could be made up for with sheer grit, determination and skill and dallas was so damn cocky.

two bit can't help it though but feel surprised and energized when dallas comes out for the events. wherever his pony is, two bit hopes he's somewhere safe as dallas grips the back of the horse he has. there are some scattered jeers at the fact that he's from new york; people are going to hold onto that. he can't see into the pen, but when dallas is let out, he recognizes the horse. it's one of the meaner, fiercer ones, and two bit feels himself wince as he watches dallas hang on.

there are whoops, hollers, but dallas doesn't let go for as much as that horse kicks and stomps and twists. he holds on for the full time, and two bit can't help like the way he's done it. dallas looks triumphant when they get him down, and two bit claps, whistles like everyone else.

he's lucky. there are a few people who get dragged — one of them is jack who looks pissed as ever when he's let up. a few others do well enough, and then the events move on.

the steer wrestling isn't his favorite. there's something in him that feels uncomfortable to watch the event; but the liquor helps it go down. jack does alright for his time, and most of the other cowboys tend to either be very good at this or not that great.

dallas, once again, surprises him. he's by far the skinniest one doing it, the lightweight, but when the pen is opened, the bull darts out quick. dallas is even quicker on his horse; two bit blinks and it's just about over, dallas off the horse, hands around the bull, gotten it to the ground in what felt like a breathtaking three seconds.

there's more applause no, real respect growing as he stands up, grinning wide. his dark hair is windswept, he doesn't have on a fancy hat but when he walks away, it's to pats and congratulations.

most of the events are like that. he does damn well with roping, and bronc riding, gripping on so tight that even two bit is white knuckling his beer. he talks on and off with the people who come in, come out of the events and it really is true: most of the people are warming up to this scrawny kid from new york. some are obviously annoyed at it; he wasn't one of them, but was whooping them.

what's odd, two bit notices, is that dallas doesn't do any of the night events. after the bronc riding, two bit doesn't see him as he makes a beeline to the rooster, good and buzzed. that pattern keeps up all night as people stream in, bragging and boozing around, happy for a good day of events.

two bit can hardly keep up, but it's not entirely the drinking doing that as he weaves in and out. there are more than a few people who want dallas' attention from the cowgirls who wink at two bit for a number to the cowboys who think they're a little slicker — with ill intent or otherwise.

who he does see, coming in later, is ponyboy. he's as animated as two bit has ever seen him, going from table to table, asking questions, picking food and more than once two bit sees him palming a wallet into his pocket or money outright.

"jesus kid, you're busy tonight," two bit points out, when ponyboy finished putting a ten dollar bill from an absent minded cowboy into his pocket. "you looking for a sweetheart or something?"

"something like that," ponyboy doesn't seem bothered at all or suspect that two bit saw him put the money in his pocket. "just a cowboy is all."

"just?" two bit challenges — and then there's a smashing of glass, a yell and then he has to break up a fight. it's harder than usual; everyone's pumped up, angry and when he finally gets them all out, another fight is in progress.

the whole night runs him so ragged that by the time it's over, his head on his the table, limbs aching as just about everyone leaves. two bit thinks not enough tips are good for this, and a wet tongue laps at his fingers.

he glances downward and fang is there, seemingly amused by his plight. ponyboy is right behind him, scratching behind his ears. "need a walk home, two?" he looks younger than ever, eyes bright and cheeks flushed a bit from booze. "fang got tired of me running around all night."

"sure," two bit stands up, stumbles, and both of them walk out of the rooster. the whole town lights up whenever the rodeo shows up and two bit knows that he'll have to get up early the next day again.

he watches fang weave around him to get to ponyboy's side, still uncomfortably massive. the alcohol two bit had consumed was all sweated and pissed out by now for the most part, and he scrubs at his eyes. "where'd you pick him up?"

"been raising him since he was an ornery little puppy," ponyboy grins, fang growling from around him. "he ain't act like it, sometimes though."

"i take it that why you ain't home — running around raising wile e. coyote?"

"nah, not really," ponyboy lights up a cigarette as they cross a deserted street. fang stops to sniff at a hat, tail wagging. "just didn't wanna stay home anymore. looking for something else."

"someone else, you mean," two bit cocks his eyebrows, "you were running around all night, trying to find out." fang trots back over, paw swiping at an empty bottle. "your daddy a cowboy or something?"

ponyboy pauses for a moment, curiously. he lights up his cigarette, yet something in his expression is off, not entirely there. it bugs at two bit, and finally, ponyboy says, "no, he ain't. not really one for that kinda thing."

"even though he had you?" two bit points out. ponyboy flips him the finger and two bit laughs as they finally reach his apartment. he glances up and back down at ponyboy. "you wanna come up for a drink, sleep somewhere that ain't a part of the ranches?"

ponyboy smiles at him — and two bit thinks that something is still missing there, still off. "thanks, two. but fang and i got somewhere else — need a lot of sleep for tomorrow." he waves, and two bit watches as he turns around, a book sticking out of his back pocket. fang gives a whuff — maybe a dog good bye? — and follows him loyally into the night.