Looking up at his mother, who was sitting next to him, Four Way Shot remembered the fight that had happened a few hours before. When his father had said that he was trying to protect him from his mother his mother had sprang up quickly and shoved him against the wall. She had stood over him and had poked him in the shoulder a few times in her anger, her yells of anger had filled the whole house. His half sister was still upstairs, as were Slash and Loui, he could see them from the corner of his eyes looking over the stairwell.
"Ma," he said, swallowing hard. "ye mad at me?"
"No honey," she said. "I'm mad at your father yes but not at you."
"Ye gonna..." Four Way Shot choked up, he couldn't speak, he was stunned and scared that his mother would start yelling at him.
"Four Way," his mother said, turning towards him. "you don't have to be afraid to talk to me, say what's on your mind."
His mother placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled at him, for some reason he started shivering. Her hand was tender and sweet, as were her eyes. He could tell that he had gotten his eyes from his father, they were an exact match in color, her eyes were darker and had a flicker of fire in them. He hadn't gotten his hair from his mother either, it was the same color as his father's.
"Are ye gonna leave mah pa?" he asked, swallowing hard.
"No honey," his mother laughed. "we had a fighting, that's all, I'm sure he didn't mean to keep you to himself."
"Ye know," he said, tapping his fingers on his right hand against the fingers of his left hand. "I done runned away an' all..."
"I am aware of it," his mother said, pulling her head to the side. "I believe your father has put enough punishment on your shoulders."
"Ye ain't a-mad?" he asked, looking up.
"Course I am!" she exclaimed. "You know what happened when your father found you not in bed or in the house or the barn? He woke the whole damn house up! I wanted to go with him to bring you back but he was insistent that this was between father and son."
"How long have ye been a-datin' mah pa?" Four Way Shot asked, changing the subject.
"Ten years," she replied quickly. "long time isn't it?"
Arson looked up from the chair he was sitting on, after the girl that had been discovered to be Four Way Shot's mother had jumped and pushed his uncle to the wall he had been ushered to the kitchen were he still was. His father had gone to the store with some of the others and had left him behind, the only ones in the house were he, Four Way Shot, his half sister and half brothers and Four Way Shot's mother. Four Way Shot's father, he could see, was walking up the stairs, he had gone out after the fight with the woman.
"Uncle!" he whispered urgently.
"Arson," his uncle whispered back.
"It's cold in here." he said, shivering a little.
"I'll a-turn the heat up." his uncle said.
His uncle walked over a dial on the wall, it controlled the heat, when he reached his hand up he twisted it three times, Arson could see that he set it from seventy-six to seventy-eight. When his uncle turned around and walked back to the fridge to get something to drink, Arson could tell how tired his was. He was limping a little and one of his hands was cut badly, it was wrapped up in his kerchief and it was soaked in his blood. Sliding from the chair and walking over, he grabbed his uncle's hand.
"Your hurt!" he exclaimed.
"Shur is!" his uncle replied, he was smiling down at him. "Done got mah hand a-stuck in the wire on one o' the fences."
Pulling his uncle's hand gently, leading him away from the fridge and towards the chair, Arson intended to clean his uncle's hand. He had done it to himself several times, all he needed was some bandages, some neosporin and that stuff that his father had called Hydrogen Peroxide, it burned a little but it got the cut clean. His uncle followed, a glass of lemonade in one of his unhurt hands.
"You stay here," Arson said, pushing his uncle into the chair. "I'll be back."
Turning around and walking out of the kitchen and up the stairs, passing his half sister and half brothers, he headed for the bathroom that held all of the medical emergency stuff. His father had shown him the stuff when he was two after he had sliced his knee open after he had fallen off a tree, the branch that he had fallen off of had snagged his pants, if he wouldn't have turned he would have hurt more than just his knee. When he had started struggling to get down Four Way Shot had shot the branch, both it and he had fallen to the ground together, the branch had landed a few inches to the left of his body. While he was upstairs he didn't hear the clicks of his uncle's spurs as he walked out of the kitchen.
Hearing the click of spurs, Four Way Shot and his mother turned towards the kitchen doorway. His father had walked out after the fight with his mother and they had heard the sound of horses hooves against the dirt as he rode away, that had been two hours ago. Upon seeing his father, Four Way Shot tried slipping off the couch but was stopped by his mother who grabbed him under the arms and pulled him on top of her lap, she wrapped an arm around his waist, holding him close.
"Imma gonna need some help movin' the cows an' sheep to pasture," he said.
"A-when?" Four Way Shot asked.
"Soon," his father said. "in jus' a few days."
"Kin I a-help ye?" Four Way Shot asked his father, he was still hanging off his mother's lap regardless the arm she had around him. His father was in front of him, taking his hat off.
"I dunno son," his father said. "yer ma an' I will a-think 'bout it."
His mother had tightened her hold on him but he was still low enough to grab his father's hat and throw it over his shoulder like he usually did. His father smiled and gave him a hug, it was then that he noticed the cut to his hand. The kerchief that was around it was green with his blood and it looked like it was about ready to start dripping. Reaching down and grabbing his father's hand, he pulled it up.
"Whut done happened to yer hand pa?" he asked.
"Damn Six Shooter!" his mother exclaimed. "What happened, you get bit by another rabid Coyote?"
His mother was referring to the time a few years ago, when he had been only six, when his father had been walking home with a bag of tomatoes from the home garden. A coyote had ran out at him and had grabbed his arm, biting down hard enough to tear both his shirt and his wrist. He had used the bag on the coyote, driving her away with the tomatoes, then he had ran inside and grabbed his Winchester rifle, the coyote hadn't gone far, in fact it had only ran to the parking lot were it had started going in circles. After he had killed and dragged the animal to a safe distance away from everyone, his father had rushed inside and had grabbed a syringe full of medicine, within a few hours his wrist had swollen to twice its size and had gotten red and purple. The whole week he couldn't use his hand for nothing. The week after he had been bit he had told him that if he ever saw an animal foaming at the mouth, chasing its tail or just not acting right to stay away from it.
"Nah, I just got mah hand a-stuck in one o' those wires on the fence I done built around the train tracks." his father said. "I had to a-check it."
"Four Way Shot, I want you to go play." his mother sighed. "I need to clean and dress you father's hand before it gets infected."
Hearing his brother run down the stairs, he knew it was Arson, he breathed heavy whenever he was going up or down the stairs and at times the bottom step would trip him up. This time he didn't trip, he ran around the couch. In his hand was a box. Four Way Shot's father smiled and patted him on the shoulder, his mother placed him down on the floor and opened the box. Inside was a few wraps of bandaging, some gauze, Hydrogen Peroxide and Neosporin, all the items needed to clean his father's wound. His mother placed her hand on his father's but before she started unwrapping the kerchief she turned towards him and his brother.
"I need to talk to your dad about the drive," his mother said soothingly. "I want you and your siblings to go outside and play."
His half siblings had heard her clearly as she had yelled it out, they came running down the stairs. Arson and Four Way Shot walked out of the living room into the kitchen then outside with their heads down. When Four Way Shot stepped outside he saw that the black ominous clouds that had been off in the distance a few hours before were now over them. The sun was still out, a few rays falling out of the clouds hit his face. His half siblings were in the barn so he and his brother followed them.
"Is she suppose to do that?" they heard once they were in the barn.
"I don't know," their half brother, Slash, exclaimed. "I thought horses were suppose to sleep standing."
"Looks like she's about to explode!" Slasha exclaimed.
"Ka-boom!" Loui yelled, jumping up and down.
Four Way Shot got the the stall first, Mae was lying down on her side, her shoulder was wet with sweat and she was breathing hard. Thinking fast, thinking back to when Xooti had been born, he ran to the tack room and took out a bucket that had a few towels, a pair of scissors and some medicine to help with the umbilical cord when it snapped. When he got back to the stall, he gently pushed his half sister out of the way, he opened the stall door and walked in, closing it behind him.
"You're going to get in trouble!" his half sister yelled.
"Nah, I done this a-fore." he replied, sitting down beside the mare.
"Bro," Arson said, clearing his throat. "you want me to get your dad? Maybe he can help."
Not hearing an answer from his brother, a clap of thunder hid it, Arson turned around and ran out of the barn. He saw that the van his father had gotten into a few hours before was pulling into the driveway, pulling his eyes away from it he tore across the yard to the porch were he pushed the door open, it slammed shut when he let it go.
Arson took off in such a hurry, there was still a cloud of dust were he had stood. When the mare started pulling her front legs up, whinnying loudly then plopping back down to her knees, he knew it was time. Holding his breath he looked at her tail and saw the two front legs of the foal. Ten minutes of pushing, Mae had half of her new foal out, before the foals back legs were out he started kicking. He heard his half siblings moan in disgust as the wet foal started falling over the straw. Grabbing a towel, he started drying the foal, it wasn't close enough the Mae for her to clean it off, she was still down on her side.
"Alrighty, stop yer pushin'!" they heard. "Imma comin' as fas' as I a-can."
"Pa!" Four Way Shot screamed.
Mae stood up a few seconds later, with a shake of her body all the straw that had attached itself to her fell off. Her ears flattened against her head when she saw Four Way Shot rubbing her foal with the towel. His father rounded the corner when she screamed and rushed at him, teeth bared and ready to tear. Turning himself around and flattening himself against the wall, the mare just missed his shoulder.
"Son!" his father screamed. "Git out o' thar right now!"
Turning around and running to the other side of the stall, Four Way Shot tried dodging the hooves that kicked out at him. The foal had ran in between the mares legs, she wasn't kicking it, she was trying to get him away from her baby. Pulling his leg over the board and pulling his body out of the foaling stall into the stall next door, he was free. When he turned around he saw the mare lick and nudge her foal. The foal was a dark champagne, which would probably lighten up to a light amber when he got as big as her other foal. The tail was a dark shade of brownish fluff, as was the mane, the rest of the body was a light brown color, way lighter than chestnut and bay. He had no socks or stockings, even his face was bare. The eyes, he could see, were blue. Hearing his father clear his throat, he turned around and looked at him.
"Whut was ye a-doin' in thar?" he asked angrily.
"I a-was helpin' Mae foal," Four Way Shot said.
"Ye remember whut happened the las' time?" his father asked, stepping into the stall.
"N...yessah." Four Way Shot lied.
"That thar mare done took some o' mah back off with her teeth!" his father yelled.
"I a-remember." Four Way Shot said, looking down.
"Ye know whut could o' happened?" his father asked, looking down at him. "Mae could o' not accepted that thar foal! An' ye a-know whut would o' happened next? That thar foal would o' died cause I can't a-stay up all night feedin' it. An' ye can't either!"
Looking up at his father, Four Way Shot could see the same anger his mother had had in her eyes when he had told her that he was protecting him by keeping her being his mother a secret. Everyone in his family was in the barn, and everyone was shaking their heads except for Arson and his mother, who looked at him in sorrow and understanding.
"I a-meant no harm pa," he said. "I was jus' tryin to..."
"Git out o' mah barn!" his father yelled. "Now!"
Four Way Shot waited too long, his father ripped his belt off of his pants and grabbed his arm, with a quick kick, Four Way Shot got loose and ran off. When he turned back he saw that his father was on his knees, two of his hands between his legs, holding the area that he had kicked. Feeling tears in his eyes, he noticed that he still had the towel in his hands. Feeling great anger swell inside him, he threw it to the ground.
"I a-don't wanna be a cowboy no more!" he screamed as loud as he could.
Turning tail to the barn and tearing his way across the yard, he slammed the door so hard when he ran in the house than it made an echo in the yard. When he took to the stairs he skipped a few, falling down a few times before he reached the top. When he did he ran to his bedroom and slammed the door shut as hard as he could, it opened and slammed into his face, breaking his nose, still angry he grabbed the doorknob and closed it gently, locking it afterwards. Seeing his bed, he ran to it and flopped down on it, pushing his face into the pillow. His nose was bleeding badly and he didn't care, with his face in the pillow he started crying.
Tearing himself away from the horse that was busy grooming her baby, the foal had just finished drinking its first milk and was trying to get down to sleep, Arson began walking out of the barn. His uncle was still in the barn, as was Four Way Shot's mother, almost everyone was in the stall, comforting him. Walking across the yard and into the house, being careful to not slam the door. The house was very quiet so he was able to hear his brother cry in his room. He understood what was happening, his father had done the same thing. Walking up the stairs, he headed for his room. His brother's door had a poster that said Horse Xing on it, it was crooked and looked like it was about to fall off of the nail that it hung from. Swallowing and straightening his shirt, he had taken his jacket off a few hours ago, he knocked on the door.
"Bro..." he said when his brother didn't answer. "can I come in? It's Arson."
His brother neither answered him or opened the door, the crying had gotten louder and he could detect his brother ripping off his clothes and throwing them to the side, all the while saying that he didn't want to be a cowboy anymore. Feeling tears well up in his eyes, lowering his head and letting his hand fall to his side, he heard dresser drawers open and close. A few seconds later he heard everyone walk in through the door. He hoped they couldn't hear his brother's cries or the dressers being opened then slammed shut.
Four Way Shot heard his brother, not intending to answer the door he sat up on the bed. His kerchief stared up at him, wrapping his hand around it he ripped it from his neck and threw it to the floor. Wrapping his hands around his shirt, still crying and still bleeding badly, he tore his shirt off, each and every button flew against the walls. He stripped himself of his pants and threw his boots against the door. He grabbed his hat and threw it in the clothes hamper. Grabbing a dresser drawer and pulling it open, standing with just his underwear on, he started searching for a new pair of clothes.
"I a-swear! I a-meant it! I a-don't wanna be a cowboy no more!" he said angrily.
Searching through the top drawer found him just a white t-shirt so he pulled it out and slipped it over his head. When he searched through the other drawers he found a lone pair of normal blue jeans, with nothing else to wear he slipped them on. He didn't have another pair of shoes so he went barefoot. When he slammed the last drawer he jammed his fingers.
"Fuck! I a-kin't do nothin' right!" he screamed. "Jus' like mah pa says! I's useless!"
His nose still hurt him, it was still bleeding, small drops of blood were already on his white t-shirt. When he jammed his fingers in the dresser he pulled them out quickly, tearing a nail out in the process. Not caring about the pain, he flopped back on his bed and pulled his legs up to his chin, he looked at the wall, tears and blood still streaming down his face.