She spent the rest of the day fuming in her gut, though she did her best not to take her temper out on innocent bystanders. Maka kept one eye on Evans, who she couldn't decide was working twice as hard as usual to appease Mifune, or because he was just plain angry. Eventually, Maka went off-property to pick up Patti, who had called for a ride to town to pick up a new alternator and grab some dinner.

"I would be pleased if he just fell up a ladder and into a windmill."

"You gotta admit, a chee-hooa-hooa ain't exactly a cowdog."

"I don't pass Crona off as a cowdog! Regardless, you don't call someone's dog a rat."

"'Magine you don't call someone's horse a cow, neither."

Maka choked on her pickle. "How'd you find out about that so fast?"

"Black Star is mighty quick with the text messagin'," Patti smiled before chugging her Dr. Pepper. "Looks like he's gettin' on well with Soul."

Maka sighed, wiping her hands on a paper napkin. "That's just what I need, two thorns in my side."

Patti responded with a mighty belch and gave a friendly wave to the other patrons in the diner who stared. "I'm beginnin' to wonder which of you is the thorn and the other the side," she mused. "Sometimes I think the Soul you tell me about ain't the same as the one I talk to every day."

"So, I should just take all the short jokes like a church sermon?" Maka replied, indignant.

"I didn't say none of that, I'm sayin' you're actin' like his horse, all stompin' and snortin' without givin' anybody who ain't family the time of day."

Maka shook her head, rolling her eyes at the very thought. "That's not true."

"It ain't? Then how come you never once congra'juated my sis 'bout her boyfriend?"

Blinking, Maka paused while pulling out cash to pay for the lunch ticket. "W-what?"

Patti stacked her silverware and napkin on her empty plate. "How many times has Lizzy told you 'bout Wes? Do you even know how long they've been goin' now?"

"I... I guess a couple of months? I don't know, what're you getting at?"

The younger blonde pursed her lips, displeased. "Over a year. And you, not so much a 'I'm happy for you Elizabeth Thompson'! 'Cause you got a thing 'bout," Patti raised her fingers up, "'sellouts'-"

"Well of course I'm happy for your-"

"-and anybody that ain't someone Mrs. Albarn hired for the ranch is an enemy."

The sounds in the diner were too casual and mundane for the feelings simmering in Maka's blood. Patti's hard, blue-eyed stare implied that horse wrangler knew exactly just what she'd said and how much it weighed on the parties present.

Maka didn't know whether to blow up or implode. She knew what her friend was saying was true, but it was the kind of truth no one wanted to hear because it meant admitting being wrong. To have her mother mentioned was just the icing on the emotional bomb, so Maka slowly counted to five, smoothly stood out of the booth, and exited the diner.

She waited in her truck for Patti to get in the passenger side, and silently backed out of the gravel parking lot. Patricia Thompson was a girl who got along with horses a lot better than people; she refused to go out of her way to be 'polite', and always got straight to the heart of a matter. Maka admired this aspect of her, though to have it directed at herself was hard to swallow. Having logic hammered into her by someone she practically considered a sister was a blessing and a curse.

After eight mile markers and the last set of stoplights long behind them, Patti spoke up: "I talked to him last night, when he gave me a ride home."

Maka said nothing.

"He asked me about you, he says," and she poorly imitated his voice, pulling her hat low on her brow so her face was nearly hidden, "'Is she always givin' people the evil eye or is it only me?'"

Setting the cruise control, Maka scoffed, adjusting the temperature of the heater. "What did you tell him," she asked in resignation.

"I tell him, 'You thought your horse took a long time!'"

"Okay, okay, I admit to being... a bit stubborn, are you happy?"

"You think? And Harley 'bout bit his finger clean off that first week, too!" The girl guffawed, telling Maka about that hospital visit and how Soul had tried to gross out Liz on the way to the emergency room. That tale spiraled from there to her sister and her usual shenanigans, but Maka still understood the point of the whole anecdote, even if it had fallen off-topic.

He tried, was what Patti meant. He was trying, and Maka ought to try at least as much.

...And maybe not call his horse a cow.

\\

When it came time for the ever-dreaded stock show, Maka was both irritated and grateful that she was too busy with the ranch and starting clinicals for her veterinary program to even find time to go. Winter gave them a steady list of things to do, never letting up on the freezing temperatures long enough to skip a day of cutting ponds and driving feed trucks.

She would admit, though never out loud, to having a certain insatiable interest in whether or not Soul Evans was going to participate in any part of the stock show, and on several occasions had drained her laptop's battery buffering YouTube coverage of the rodeo events long into the night. Despite several days of living vicariously through the internet, she turned up nothing about the ranch hand competing at all.

With only a few days left of the stock show, Maka was contemplating breaking down and finally asking Mister Six-Point-Eleven directly when, on a crisp Sunday morning, the second feed truck caught fire.

Maka watched her spare pair of good leather gloves burned to a crisp in the cab. "This is gonna make feeding even more of a pain."

Grunting in agreement, Mifune waved in the stocky, volunteer fire department's truck into the pasture.

Turning to make the long trek back to the house on foot, Maka said sourly, "I'll go and call Papa. Hopefully someone's selling a flatbed on the bulletin in town." She stomped her way through the frost-covered field. An out-of-commission truck wasn't a terrible thing on most days. It was a hassle in winter, when they were used the most, but they could be rebuilt and put back to work.

Unless, of course, they're on fire and a profit had been barely made last autumn.

Halfway across the pasture, she saw Evans on horseback, Harley in an effortless lope. They slowed and passed her before turning around to ride at her side. "What happened?" he asked, hand steadying the worn axe and shovel in his lap.

"Engine's on fire," she spat, more displeased with the situation than actually having a one-on-one with Evans. "Firetruck's here. It's fine. I gotta figure out where we're gonna get another truck that isn't the cost of a firstborn and my tuition."

She thought she heard a snort, but she didn't want to look and confirm if it had actually come from the man and not the horse. "Wanna lift?" he asked.

At this, Maka did stop, and she gave both Evans and Harley a skeptical look. "No thanks," she flatlined. That horse had it out for her, and she knew better. The mare gave her an obligatory snort for anyone having the audacity of looking at her highness directly. Maka bit back a handful of belittling cow comments and continued to the house. Behind her, she heard the clanging of tools knocking together and boots hitting the earth. Irritated to look back again, she was confused to see Soul leading his horse to catch up with her. "What're you doing?"

He gave her a quizzical look. "'Don't talk down from a horse'?"

Maka stammered, slightly thrown off-course by his display of cowboy politeness. "N-no I mean... don't you have some ponds to be chopping or something?" She began walking again, trying to balance stubborn disdain and lectures about giving strangers a chance.

"I finished."

"You, uh, don't have to stop on my account."

"Figured I ought to. Think I can find you a truck."

Maka looked to him in surprise, awaiting further explanation, but Evans only began to walk backwards, blowing his frozen breath into his horse's face.

\\

On the phone with her father, Maka sat at the kitchen table, dully assuring Spirit that everything was fine.

"I was driving. Yes, I'm fine. Smoke was coming in through the- yes, I'm fine. No, nothing else caught on f- Sue is fine too. Everyone is fine. Yes. Yes, I'm sure." She held the phone away from her ear a moment, clapped her hand over her mouth, and muffled her own scream before replacing the phone back against her cheek.

Across from her sat Soul, who propped up his chin with a hand. He was still as a statue, despite her outburst, and if she didn't know any better she would say he was asleep sitting up - it was pretty hard to tell with his damned hat always shading his face. He still hadn't spilled any beans about whatever truck he thought he could catch for them, and between her irritation with her father and the unhelpful silence from the person across the table, Maka's mood skipped right over sour and fell straight into curdled.

"Papa, we need a new truck," she groaned, trying to get past all the preliminary questions regarding her safety.

Evans perked up at this, hand sliding out from under his chin and motioning for the phone. Scrunching her eyebrows this much in one sitting was making her forehead fatigued - the end of her sanity was nigh. She covered the mouthpiece of the phone with a hand, blowing her bangs out of her face. "What."

"Lemme talk at him."

Maka closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Why the man couldn't simply tell her directly and let her suffer her father in peace was beyond her. Opening her eyes, she frowned her displeasure, but he only curled a finger in come-hither fashion and she felt herself cease all further effort wasted dealing with this absurd situation. Sighing, she handed over the cordless phone.

When Soul stood up and walked away with it for privacy, she just wanted to throw her boot at him. She rested her head on the table, defeated.

Whatever, she had other things to worry about, like finding sleep before her next shift at the clinic. She should probably go back out to the pasture to make sure nothing else exploded, or help finish feeding the cattle, or do anything remotely productive without constantly battling her instinct to give Soul Ethan Evans hell for simply breathing.

She was trying, damn it! After having her fallacy pointed out to her both directly and indirectly by the Thompson sisters, Maka was stuck self-analyzing every flare of annoyance she felt regarding Soul, trying to sort out which peeves were based on his being an enigma, and which were only a by-product of her prejudices. The fact that she was intensely jealous of that stupid champion roping time didn't help matters.

Her head was swimming when Soul rounded the corner and stepped back into the kitchen.

He looked disgruntled. Placing the phone quietly on the table, he cleared his throat. "Could you tell me how your father got the impression that I have, erm, 'impure intentions' towards you?"

She groaned into the table. "Don't... take it personally," she said, though she did note seeing his discomfort was exceptionally gratifying. "He's like that with anyone that's a man who isn't either married or Mitch."

Soul sat down in his previous chair. "How often would you say he used that pistol?"

Maka found herself smiling, lifting her head. "I make him unload it before supper every night. That'll give you a head start."

He made an uneasy noise in the back of his throat and placed his hat on the table, upside down. "Well anyhow, it's settled. You don't have to worry 'bout another flatbed."

She was stuck trying to classify just what kind of color his eyebrows officially were, watching him rub that bandana-covered head with a hand. Was he bald under there or what? "That so?"

He grunted evasively. Suddenly, Maka's focus was on his behavior rather than appearance. She watched his eyes dart to one side.

"What did you do." she asked, no question mark.

"Don't matter."

"Evans, did you-"

"Soul."

"-j.. Soul," she drew out his name, her impatience blooming, "Did you just have your richy family buy us a-"

"Hell no, like I'd ask them for money," he shot back, voice not raising in volume but rather gaining a depth that cut through the kitchen. "Look, I dunno what kinda misconceptions you got about me, but-"

"Then why're you all shifty-eyed? You look guilty."

He scowled, finally looking at her directly. "'Cause whenever my last name gets said, your eyes brand me."

She flushed, but refused to glance away on principle. Some acknowledgement regarding how she did not automatically respond with any kind of retort involving the word 'sell-out' would have been nice, but she had a feeling it wasn't forthcoming. "W-well if they didn't buy it, then where's it coming from?"

"You're buying it," he tiredly answered.

She blinked.

"Well, your pop is," he corrected, rubbing under his nose. "It's our old one what we didn't sell. S'got no purpose now, so."

"Oh." Maka winced. It only took half a second for her to substitute herself into a world where all aspects of her familiar life are labeled 'No Purpose'. She swallowed an indefinable emotion - something that urged her to latch on to her surroundings and preserve them in her memory. "Thank you," she ground out.

In the awkward silence, Soul stood, replacing his hat back on his head and adjusting the tilt of the brim. As he did so, Maka found herself standing as well, her voice popping out of her mouth. "Ah, wait a 'sec." She walked around the table to face him, and his back straightened as she drew near. She reached, pushing the brim of his hat up half an inch, glad he wasn't so tall she had to stand on her toes. "I might not glare so much if I could see your damned face," she mumbled.

The corner of his mouth twitched up a moment as he blinked. His hand reflexively came up to fiddle with the brim, but she smacked it away.

"Quit it."

He exhaled noisily out his nose, hand dropping. "I got work to do," he said, tilting his head down enough to stubbornly hide his eyes with his hat.

She caught the small smile. Maka scoffed, stepped to the side to let him pass, and watched him leave.

Behind her, the sound of the refrigerator door slamming caused her to jump. She whirled around, finding Tsubaki munching on a celery stalk. A big grin was plastered on the general manager's face.

"I saw you lookin' at his butt."

\\

A combination of scrambling around to finish the day's feeding and avoiding conversations about cowboy butts took up the rest of the day Maka had originally reserved to finishing up paperwork before her next rotation at the vet. She got up before the sun the next morning, filling out worksheets while drinking coffee.

To her shock, she was startled awake twenty minutes past the time she was supposed to leave, her father's hand nudging her shoulder.

"You're gonna be late, sweets."

She was horribly disoriented, back and arms stiff from having fallen asleep on the kitchen table. Heart thundering, Maka glanced to the paperwork beneath her. It was completed. She sighed with relief and rose from her chair, hurriedly gathering her things. "Crap, crap, crap, crap, bye Papa-"

"Don't speed."

She sped, though not to spite her father. When she pulled into the (relatively) local veterinary hospital, she was nearly an hour late after the traffic in town. However, her supervisor and mentor, Miranda Nygus, didn't look as disappointed as Maka had feared. If anything, the middle-aged woman was surprised.

"Good morning, Maka... What are you doing here?"

Maka made an unseemly noise of sleep-deprived, harried confusion. She looked at the dry-erase calendar mounted on the wall behind the desk which Miranda sat.

She'd read it wrong. Her shift of clinical training wasn't until the following week. The trainee properly on duty- her classmate, Kimberly Diehl- stepped out of the back room, one side of her strawberry-red hair sticking up at an odd angle.

"I have just had it with these slimy critters, Miss Nygus!" she complained, rubbing a paper towel in her hair with disgust.

"Maybe if you didn't smell like peaches, they wouldn't lick you so much," Miranda laughed.

"Momma bought the soaps in bulk... I hafta use it all 'fore we can get a different smellin' one." It was then she noticed Maka. "Oh hey! What're you doin' here?" Kim asked, confused. "Gotta sick cow?"

Maka gave a wan smile, distantly wishing she was still asleep at the table. "No, I just can't read. Came by accident." She turned back to Miranda. "Can I borrow the wifi? Since I'm all the way out here for no reason."

"Sure, go for it. Awe, is that all your paperwork? You finished it, didn't you."

Maka nodded glumly while her superior laughed again.

She checked her email on her laptop, occasionally giving input to the other two ladies regarding overall bovine health. When Miranda and Kim were both otherwise occupied, Maka skimmed over her student loan statements for a moment before muting her laptop's speakers and opening a separate tab to YouTube.

Still no news on the stock show front, which didn't particularly surprise her. Evans had been on-property all day yesterday, and she'd be more than a little confused if he had somehow managed to sneak in a calf roping downtown.

Out of curiosity, she searched for 'Wes Evans rodeo', which brought up an impressive slew of results. There was almost no buffering time after she clicked the most recent video, dated last night. She watched the elder Evans brother ride a monstrous bull around the arena. After the performance, Wes hobbled to the person recording the video, a big smile stretching across his face.

Muted, Maka had no idea what he was saying in the impromptu interview. A few seconds in, and he was nearly tackled by none other than Elizabeth Thompson, dressed to the cowboy nines, who planted a big wet kiss on his dusty cheek. Maka laughed. Of course Liz would be at the stock show - she'd worked the ticket counter every year since high school. In the video, Liz said something directly to the camera, complete with saucy grin. Wes then took off his cowboy hat and carelessly flung it into the stands.

Hand possessed, Maka paused the playback.

Atop Wes Evan's head was a close-cropped, sweaty mop of pale, almost-blonde-but-not-quite hair, which matched his silvery eyebrows. Overall, he had a stockier jawline than his brother. They shared a chin, though. And that peculiar, ruddy eye color.

"Huh," she said to no one.

\\

Driving home after having found nothing else of interest online, Maka's curiosity would not stop obsessively picking Angel's End's newest hired hand potentially having similar physical attributes to his older brother. She wasn't sure why it mattered - even less sure why her mind kept floating back to Evans and all the incessant posterior comments Tsubaki had plagued her with.

When she pulled into the driveway at home, she noticed Soul's truck was missing. Walking inside, Maka found Tsubaki in the living room, who was habitually rubbing her stomach and typing away on a ten-key, adding figures. The financial records were spread in front of her on the coffee table while she sat on the floor.

"Sue," Maka said, exasperated, "we did clear out that spare room so you'd have an office, you know."

Tsubaki smiled, taking off her chic reading glasses. "I know. But the fridge is a lot closer to here than there."

"...There's a kitchen table."

"Leave me be! I'm comfortable."

"Alright, okay!"

Maka debated a moment over whether she should ask the older woman where their hired hand had run off to - desperate to know if maybe he'd gone to the stock show after all - but on the other hand, she did not want to be teased about butts.

"What're you doing home so early?" Tsubaki asked. "I thought you had to go to the clinic?"

"I did already. Apparently I can't read calendars properly."

"Oh, no."

"Yep. So... I have a week off, how about that?"

Laughing, Tsubaki put her glasses back on and shuffled through various receipts. "Is it dinner time yet?"

Maka glanced across the room and into the kitchen, squinting at the clock on the microwave. "Not quite. Quarter to noon. Maybe, ah, time for an appetizer?"

"I'll need a cheeseburger for an appetizer," she replied dryly, fingers quickly snapping across the keys of her calculator. "Mmm, with onions and tomato and lettuce, on a roasted, golden bun... Oh! Speaking of-"

"Lord."

"Are you gonna butter those biscuits, or what?" Tsubaki blandly grilled her, stapling invoices together.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Sue," Maka blurted, retreating to the kitchen to peer in the refrigerator to make herself look busy.

"Of course you don't."

"Are they coming in for lunch, today?" she called, trying to change the subject.

"I doubt it. They ate so much in the morning I felt bad for their horses."

Horses! Maka whipped her head around, peeking out the window over the kitchen sink looking for a particular Morgan. If Evans had gone roping, he wouldn't have left without his irritating sidekick.

Alas, Harley was wandering the corral and waggling her lip at Crona, who sniffed around nearby.

Well, now she was plain stumped. Where had that lone ranger gone off? She grabbed a leftover pancake sealed in plastic wrap and shut the door. Walking back into the living room, she handed this to Tsubaki.

"Oh! Thanks." She unwrapped the gift and tore off a piece to pop in her mouth. She typed in a few more numbers. "He went to see his family," she bluntly said.

"Oh." Then, a beat too late as Maka tried to save face, "...Who went?" Tsubaki merely raised an eyebrow over the frame of her glasses, not buying the act. Maka's shoulders rose up in defense. "Don't give me that look, alright? I just... wanted to know if he was roping at the show, that's all."

Tsubaki made an enlightened sound. "I see. And you haven't asked him, yourself, because?"

Maka opened her mouth, but had no excuse at the ready. Luckily, she was interrupted by sudden and obnoxious honking. "...What the hell?"

"I guess they're here."

"They?"

Tsubaki munched on the rest of her cold pancake and stood. "With the new truck. Come on then."

This whole feeling lost and disconnected thing was really shooting down Maka's amiability. She glumly followed the general manager out to the rarely-used front porch and watched a noisy cavalry drive up.

In the lead was Soul in his rusty red pickup, followed by a relatively new Suburban with tinted windows, and in last place was a bright red, flatbed hay bale hauler with some weird contraption attached to the rear bumper.

Maka tilted her head to the side, leaning on a post of the covered porch. Crona came running with his short little legs, skittering across the cement to stand at her side. "Hey, buddie," she called. The dog's tail wagged once before he was reduced to nervous, excited jitters from all the commotion. She let him hide behind her boot.

Soul engaged his loud emergency brake after parking. Maka watched him slide out of the cab, looking stiff from a long drive, and he waved to the Suburban to park next to him as he walked up to the idling flatbed diesel.

Maka was surprised to see Patti run out from the stables to the Suburban, opening the driver's side door with a laugh. Elizabeth Thompson stepped out, which was confusing because Maka knew Liz drove a beat up, four cylinder coupe. If she was driving someone else's vehicle, then the person driving the flatbed must've been...

"YOU BIG GOOBER, you didn't tell me it was Angel's End you was cowboyin' on!"

Next to Maka, Tsubaki covered her mouth to stifle a giggle as Wes Evans stole Soul's hat and gave his twenty-six year old brother a noogie through his bandana.

"Dammit Wes, what the hell, ge'roff!"

Maka was suddenly pleased she'd been mistaken about her clinical schedule today. 'Silver linings' and all that.

\\

After a lengthy how-to session regarding the usage of the hydraulic bale-lifting arms on the back of the new truck, Tsubaki implored everyone to stay for supper. She and the Thompsons prepared a table-crowding spread, warming up the kitchen.

Wes's right hand waved around the table as he talked. "Yeah, Officer Albarn tried damn hard to pin the horseshit going on at our place on Georgian. Nearly did it too, but her lawyers- plural! Lawyers!- gave hell 'bout 'reasonable doubt', buncha lowlife, gravy-sucking-"

Liz smacked him on the shoulder. "Not at the table!"

"Right, pardon."

"Georgian?" Maka asked, confused.

Tsubaki spoke up. "Maddy Georgian is the owner of Lazy S."

"Damn rat'ler, she is," Wes said lightly. Liz didn't correct him.

Maka's eyes flickered across the long table to Soul, who was seated on the opposite end, next to his brother. He made no comment, neutrally chewing his food.

"Well anyhow," Wes resumed, turning to face Maka. "Our folks have lotsa respect for anything with your daddy's brand. No wonder my brother was glad to take the job," he grinned, leaning forward to look at Soul.

"That was coincidental," the younger Evans grumpily said around a dinner roll.

Patti, seated to Maka's left, guffawed. "That weren't how it sounded to me, Spitfire!"

Blake's cutlery scraped loudly across his plate. "Wait, whoa there. Spitfire?"

Maka watched Soul rub his face with the palm of his hand, anguished. "Pat, you damned traitor..."

Over the various snorts that broke out around the kitchen table, Wes happily clarified. "Yeah! 'Cause he hates spicy food. He gone and ate a hally-peenyo when he was but six, and just spewed like a 'lil machine gun-"

"I'd be much obliged if this conversation went in any other direction."

"Soul... you could've said something whenever I made enchiladas last week! I would've gone easier on the-"

"Don't even worry about it, Sue, s'not a problem."

"Are you blushin', brother?"

"You touch my hat again and I'll tell Liz about The Collection."

Liz took a sip of her tea. "Oh, don't worry 'bout that darlin', I already seen it."

Soul's entire body winced. "Believe I just lost my appetite."

"Lizabeth," Black Star said quietly, "Is it any good? OW."

Tsubaki placed her fork back on the table.

"So," Wes started up again, "Maka. Can I call you Maka?"

Of course he'd catch her mid-chew. She spoke behind her hand. "I... yes, that's fine."

"Lizzy tells me you're a fine roper like my kid brother," he accused, jerking a thumb at Soul.

Pride warred with unease at being the center of attention. "Well... I know where to keep my piggin' string, anyway." She pushed her green beans around on her plate with a fork as Wes gave a hearty laugh. Her eyes darted once more to Soul, who gave her a curious look.

"But I ain't seen you compete! From how Lizzy tells it, surely you'd place."

A flattered smile stretched across her face. "That may be," she shrugged. "But, I don't see much a point in competing if it's not coed."

Wes slowly nodded, eyes watching her carefully. "Fair enough. Well, I'm sure you could give Soul a run for his money," he beamed.

Maka heard Tsubaki snicker behind a napkin. She grit her teeth in a forced smile. "Hah, I don't think I can quite beat that championship time," she admitted, which tasted an awful lot like a bucket of lemons.

"That six-one-one is somethin' else, ain't it? Far better than I could do. Though I'll tell you a bit," Wes said, leaning forward in a guise of confidentiality. "That horse is all the talent- throws the loop with her own teeth and cheats for 'im."

Caught off-guard, she bit her bottom lip and tried not to laugh.

Soul's mouth stretched into a grim line. "I'm sittin' right here."

"Miss Sue, would you pass them great potatoes over here?"

Conversation drifted across multiple subjects, spanning from Blake and Tsubaki's coming child, Wes's next bullride, Mifune's constant silence being a front to steal all the string beans unnoticed, and the big dent in the side of Patti's Jeep that absolutely wasn't her fault. All the while, Maka found herself grinning widely at the group's animated, playful arguing, and kept noticing the quieter of the two Evans brothers glancing her way.