"Ye is bad," his brother continued to sing. "I is bad, but she is the baddest one o' us all!"

"I think you still have some whiskey in your system bro," Arson laughed. "you are ridiculous!"

"Funny thang o' it is," his brother started laughing. "mah pa still a-hasn't told me off 'bout it."

"Awww..." they heard. "I'm tellin' daddy that you are outta your room Four Way Shot!"

Turning his head fast and looking at his door, Arson saw his half sister half in and half out of his room. In one of her hands, she had gotten a hand made as she had been born with a very sharp knife, it looked like her father's except it was barbed and was poisonous, was a stick. She was pointing it threateningly at Arson, her hair was falling over one of her shoulders.

"Go ahead, tell him," Arson said, standing up. "by the time he gets up here Four Way Shot will be gone."

"An' then ye'll a-be punished," his brother said, sitting up. "yer pa will a-say ye shouldn't have been in mah bros room."

"A-heh heh heh a-heh heh heh a-heh a-heh a-heh heh heh," their half sister laughed. "you think they'll believe that me, a sweet little angel, will do such a thing."

Slasha raised the stick when her younger brother took a few steps towards her, she was always getting her brothers in trouble. One time she had made the cookie jar fall, when it had hit the floor it had broken into a few thousand pieces and the cookies inside had rolled all over the floor, when her father had come around the corner asking what all the noise was and had seen all the mess he had demanded who had done it she had pointed at Arson who had just walked in the door, she had said that he was trying to flee the crime. He had been sent to his room and had missed out on lunch that day.

"You come any closer and I'll cast a spell on you!" she exclaimed. "One more step."

Arson dropped his mouth in an evil smile, Four Way Shot was on his feet and was walking towards her, he was throwing all four of his arms around and puckering his lips. He and Slasha had a very distant relationship as well. One day she had set one of the mares loose. She had blamed him and he had been grounded for a week from riding.

"Imma comin' fer ya," he taunted. "ye bes' run cause Imma comin'."

"Stooooopeeeefie!" his half sister shouted.

Four Way Shot stood in place for a second, not moving, then he moved one of his hands, waving at his half sister. Arson broke down and started laughing and pointing. The stick in his half sister's hand dropped and she backed out of his room, shocked. When she stepped on the back of her dress and fell back both boys started laughing loudly.

"Stop it!" Slasha yelled. "Just stop it!"

"What the hell is going on up here?"

Four Way Shot was too slow, his uncle, Torch, walked into the room. Once he saw that both boys were in the same room his relaxed hand became a fist, his eyes, which had been dark, were now a bright red and they could detect a deep growl coming from him. Four Way Shot backed up a few steps when he saw that his line of sight was directed at him, not his brother.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" his uncle asked.

"Well...I..." Four Way Shot sputtered.

"Six Shooter!" his uncle yelled down the hall.

Four Way Shot and Arson both ran at the door and past Torch, who was caught unprepared and couldn't catch them. Four Way Shot turned the corner a little too fast and slipped, falling to his knees and sliding a little on the carpet. When he caught up to Arson he stopped. His father was walking up the stairs fast, taking two at a time. He stopped when he saw them. When they turned around they saw that Torch was behind them.

"An' whut's a-goin' on here?" Six Shooter asked. "An' why is ye out o' yer room?"

"Exactly what I want to know," Torch yelled. "I come up the stairs and see Slasha on the ground and Four Way Shot in my son's room."

Slasha ran around the corner and grabbed his father, he couldn't help feel jealous when he saw her hugging close to him. He had never allowed him to do that. Four Way Shot and he were back to back, his four armed brother looking at his father and he looking at his. He had a feeling that his half sister was going to pull another of her moments.

"Why was ye on the floor young un'?" he heard his uncle ask.

"He pushed me!" Slasha cried into her uncle's back. "Four Way Shot, he pushed me!"

Four Way Shot's father pulled his head towards his son fast and took a few steps toward him. Arson could feel his brother pressing himself tightly against him. Using as much strength as he could, he pushed him into the wall and shielded him, putting his body in front of his brother's.

"He did not!" he screamed. "Four Way would never...NEVER...push a girlie. He's a gentleman!"

"Son," his father said. "step aside for a minute will ya. Calm down, yes we know your brother is a gentleboy, not man but boy."

"He's a man dad!" Arson screamed.

His father and uncle started laughing real softly, he could feel his brother lower his shoulders in sadness. Before he knew it his brother was pushing past him, he tried to stop him but his father grabbed his arm, stopping him. He saw his brother round the corner and he heard his brother open then slam his door, hard! Turning himself on his father, his father took a step back.

"How could you?" Arson asked, confused. "You hurt his feelings! How could you!"

Not allowing his father to answer, he pushed past him and his half sister and raced to his room. When he slammed the door shut he heard a glass frame fall. The window was still open from when his brother had come in, he hoped his brother would surprise him and tap on the glass, let him know he was there.

Four Way Shot had thrown himself to his bed and had shoved his face in his pillow. As usual he believed that his uncle had believed his half sister, whenever she had accused him of something they'd always believe her and punish him wrongly. He had never hit a girl in his life and he wouldn't start now, he and his half sister didn't get along but he would never come to allow himself to hit or kick her, that, he felt, was her father's job.

"Bro, bro are you there?"

Reaching his hand into the small area, a cubby he called it, where he'd keep a few things he didn't want his father to know about, a few packs of cigarettes that he had promised to keep for his brother, a lighter and a CD portable and three sets of fresh batteries, Four Way Shot pulled out a small walkie talkie. Sniffling still, tears still rolling down his cheeks, he pressed one of his fingers against one of the buttons.

"B....bro?" he said, trying to stop crying. "I...Imma here."

"You okay?" he heard his brother say a few minutes later.

"Kinda," he said. "jus', re...real sad."

"What my dad said to you was really bad man!" Arson said angrily. "You're a gentleman, there's no such thing as a gentleboy!"

"Kin I a-go to sleep now?" Four Way Shot asked. "Imma tired."

"Alright bro," Arson said, sighing. "I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast okay."

"Okie dokie bro," Four Way Shot said, unbuttoning his shirt. "nighty night."