When Arson walked into the living room he saw that Loui had sat himself down beside the box of Lego's, he was building what it looked to be a small corral and he had a box of small medieval figures. He still hadn't figured out his younger half brother, he was more on the quiet and shy side but he did have a comical side. A few weeks before he had ran away Loui had locked himself in a car, when his mother had tried getting him out he had pulled his pants down and had shoved his butt up against the glass of the window.

"Hey Loui," he said. "whatcha doin'?"

"Nothing," Loui squeaked. "just trying to build a castle."

Now he saw what his half brother was doing, the corral that he had thought he was building was really the base of the castle. Loui had extraordinary building skills and within ten minutes he had built the castle and a stable. He was now reaching into the box with the figures and pulling out warriors, princes and princess's.

"Wanna play?" his half brother asked, not looking up.

"He'd be able to if he wasn't on parole."

Loui turned around a little too fast, he fell down on one of his elbows and his right foot kicked the stable that had been built alongside the castle, luckily for him just the back wall fell. He smiled warmly when he saw his uncle walk towards him, an unlit cigar in his hand.

"Hi uncle," he exclaimed. "how are you this morning?"

"Pretty good kid." his uncle replied. "Go on and play, your brother has a few things to do."

The day went by pretty quickly, all he had to do was pick up whatever Loui left on the floor, he was famous for leaving his toys spread out after playing with them, and wash the houses windows, he was done by noon and was allowed some free time to read a few of the magazines that had come in the mail. His six armed uncle had gotten a few more magazines in the mail, Horse Illustrated and Equus and two others that he had just filled an application for: Blood Horse and another titled American Cowboy. His father had gotten two magazines in the mail, one he had thrown out and another that he had read then had put down on the table. As usual, Arson grabbed the discarded magazine that had been thrown out.

Four Way Shot had a somewhat easy day, his father had given him just the chickens, pigs and the horses, he had done the rest. For some odd reason his father had wrote, wash the pigs instead of feed them so he had done both, not the best activity he had ever done but his father had written it down and he didn't feel like disobeying him. There was one pig that was his very favorite, Ol' Blackie. After Blackie's sisters had been born his father had walked away, disappointed that the male pig that he most needed wasn't born from the best bred pig on the ranch, fifteen minutes had passed then she had slipped a beautiful black piglet, his sisters had been all white so he had stuck out. After his birth he had carried him upstairs to his room and had put him in the toy chest at the end of his bed that he never used, after three weeks of bottle feeding the piglet he had been discovered. It had been hard work, several nights he had gotten no sleep. Another of his chores had been feeding and looking after the chickens, his father feared that a few were sick. They had two Roosters, the old one that his father called Randy, a red and orange Rooster with black tail feathers, and his favorite, Rudy. One day when his father had gone out he had snuck into the chicken house and had taken one of the eggs from a hen that had just walked out, he had hid it in the top drawer of his dresser and it had hatched a few weeks later. He had returned the Rooster to the flock when it had started cawing, the Rooster had a lovely white body with black tail feathers, the feathers on the neck looked more gray than white. He had fed and watered the horses, even the ones in the pasture, and had taken them out, a few of them were still in the pasture begging to be brought in. Off in the distance was some ominous black clouds.

"Son," his father said. "ye git them hosses in fast, thar's a-storm a-comin'."

Grabbing a halter and lead rope, Four Way Shot ran as fast as he could towards the pasture. When he opened the door a chocolate colored mare with a long white stripe running down her face ran out, knocking him flat against the ground. The mare's name was Belle and she was one of the more advanced horses on the ranch, even though she belonged to his father his uncle, Blade, rode her regularly.

"Belle!"

Looking to the side, still on the ground, the wind having been knocked out of him, Four Way Shot saw the girl running towards the mare with a rope. The mare reared up and pawed at the air with her black hooves, her light mane held in the breeze, she screamed. With a flick of her wrist the girl threw the rope, which landed around the mare's neck. With a lunge the mare ran at her, the girl didn't move, it seemed like she was paralyzed in place, when the mare got to her she jumped up and swung her leg over her back. With a tug, she brought the mare under control and rode her into the barn.

"Son!" he heard his father yell.

The other horses had ran just as quickly out of the pasture, one of them had jumped over his body and another had almost kicked him, thinking it was time to get out of the way he pushed himself up on his elbows and turned around to his side. A mare was heading right for him, one that he had started out riding. Her name was Strawberry, a pretty red roan, her face and legs were red while the rest of her body was light red, a color his aunt had called pink and her mane and tail were red with a few pink and white hairs mixed in. Screaming and trying to get out of the way, he was too late, the mare run over him, one of her hooves grazed his face and another kicked him in the stomach. Once the mare was past he started coughing up blood, his stomach hurt him, reaching his hand up, he touched his face. His vision was blurring up and he was getting dizzy, but not dizzy or blurry enough to not notice the blood on his hand. Rolling his eyes into the back of his head, he fell asleep.

"You told him to go fetch the horses," he heard someone yell. "by any chance did you help him? No, you let my baby boy get kicked!"

"Darlin', I is jus' as worried 'bout mah young un' as ye is," his father said, anger and fear clouding his voice. "he's a-done it plenty o' times so I done thought he was a-fine doin' it this time on his own."

Opening his eyes slowly, his vision still unclear, he turned his head to the side. His father was sitting beside him, one of his hands was against his head, holding something against him. Closing his eyes and turning his head, moaning in pain, he wished that the girl that was yelling would stop, he had a headache and it felt like something in his stomach was broken, he was in a lot of pain.

"Bullshit!" the girl yelled. "Regardless you should have helped, if you would have my son wouldn't be turning his head from side to side moaning in pain."

"Darlin'," his father exclaimed. "hush!"

"I will not," the girl screamed. "this isn't only your son, this is also my son."

Arson was sitting on the couch, his arm resting against the couch's arm, his flamethrower had been repaired and was working but he hadn't gotten a chance to test it out yet. His brother had been brought in wrapped up in his father's shirt at three. His father had said that he had been kicked by a horse, it surely looked it. He had a very deep cut to his face that had been bleeding badly, the bleeding had ceased a few minutes after he had been brought in. The girl that usually slept in his six armed uncle's room had ran in almost on his heels, she had been very frantic, when he had placed his brother on the table she had placed her head on his chest and had listened hard for a heartbeat. The girl, he knew, had been living here for some time, she had a room all to herself but she preferred sleeping in his brother's father's room. One night he had slipped out of his room and looked in through his uncle's window and had seen them kissing and hugging each other. Besides sleeping in his uncle's room, he had followed them one day when they had rode their horses out into the pasture, stopping at a stream long enough to let the horses drink, their favorite spot was on a hill in the far left of the pasture, where the fence almost met the cliffs, were they would, at times, have sex.

"He'll a-be fine," his uncle said. "he's up an'..."

"Yeah, he's awake, but do we know about any internal injuries he has?" the girl asked, getting angrier by the second. "He was kicked in the stomach for fuck sakes! Who do we know that something in his stomach hasn't ruptured or something?"

"Angel!" his uncle yelled. "If somethin' in his belly would o' ruptured he a-wouldn't be awake now."

Slash, Slasha and Loui had been ushered to another room, for some reason he had been forgotten, his father had walked past several times with the phone pressed up hard against his head, trying to get in contact with a doctor. The girl, whose name was Angela, had screamed for a doctor to be gotten to their house quickly after Four Way Shot had started coughing and wheezing, everyone in the house was running around, frantic with fear and confusion. His aunt had gotten his brother a few towels and his muscular uncle had grabbed a bucket and some water. Everyone else had sat in the living room, demanding what had happened.

"P...pa?" Four Way Shot squeaked.

"Hush son," his father said soothingly. "yer a-fine, yer ma an' I is ver worried 'bout ye."

"Mah ma?" Four Way Shot whispered. "I ain't a-got a ma."

"You do sweetie."

Turning his head to the left and looking at the girl that he had seen riding Belle into the barn earlier, he felt great confusion. His head felt really heavy and he felt he headache get worse. The girl was sitting beside him, one of her hands was clasping one of his gently, with her other hand she gently smoothed it over his head.

"I a-don't understand." he said. "Mah pa done told me that I a-was dropped off by a giant chicken with gold feathers an' black hair on it's head."

"Is that what your dad told you?" the girl who had called herself his mother laughed. "No such thing sweetie, I am your mother."

"But..." he sputtered. "but..."

"Son," his father spoke up. "yer ma was no chicken or pig or goat, yer ma is this here lil' lady."

"You telling me that not only have you put our son in danger but told him that I wasn't his mother? That a chicken with gold feathers and black hair was?" the girl said, she was holding her anger in as much as she could.

"I a-told him that to protect him." his father sighed.

"From who?" the girl asked, standing up.

"You..."