It wasn't a date, he'd fervently explained before he left her questions half-answered with the excuse of needing to drive Pat to the bus stop. And this was what she told Tsubaki at the grocery store two days later when she couldn't contain it any longer. "He said that he hated get-togethers and he wanted to use me as an excuse to leave early."

Tsubaki, pushing a giant grocery cart through the wholesale shopping club, smiled like she'd just won the quick pick lottery. "Why you?"

"I... I don't know, he was mumbling a lot," Maka said, eyebrows pinched together with frustration. "Something about Wes having a big mouth and revenge for the stock show," she complained, grabbing two large bags of flour and putting them in the cart. "I mean I understand the revenge part, but I don't get why I'm always involved in his punishments!"

Tsubaki laughed, marking a line through her grocery list. "Think about it- the Evanses have 'high respect for your daddy's brand', and that means you, too. Their son is working with Spirit Albarn's daughter, who cowgirls, ropes like he does, and is close to his age."

Maka glowered at the taller woman, dropping a sack of pinto beans into the cart. "That's all irrelevant and I don't like where you're going with this," she growled. "...And I don't rope like he does."

Rolling her eyes, Tsubaki ignored her and went on to say, "If Wes told them how you and Soul were playing eye games at the supper table last month, I can just imagine what they're expecting."

Her boot loudly scraped on the concrete floor when she came to a halt in the middle of the dry goods aisle. "We what?" Maka blurted. "That- no way, that was all him, he was staring, and dammit, Sue, it's not a date, it's a favor!" Tsubaki kept walking ahead, leaning on the shopping cart to give her stressed back a rest. Maka huffed, trotting to catch up with her.

"Why'd you accept? I thought you wanted 'nothing to do with the Evans family'," Tsubaki asked, voice bored.

"I don't," she insisted. Tsubaki didn't verbally mention that Soul was also an Evans, but the upward tilt of her mouth did it for her, accusing her of having increasingly fewer reasons to have nothing to do with the ranch hand. Maka's eyes darted to the side, avoiding her friend's glance. "He asked nicely," she added, somewhat with disgust. "Begged, really."

"Uh huh," the woman replied, snagging a free sample of fresh fruit from an endcap. "If Spirit asked you 'nicely' to line dance-"

"Hell no." At Tsubaki's unsurprised expression, Maka was back to babbling. "No, that's different, public humiliation is totally different than... I don't know, okay? He's got a really effective kicked puppy look," she admitted, taking her own fruit sample and munching on a kiwi slice with contempt. "I wasn't expecting it."

"I'll send you with cookies," Tsubaki said. "You'll need all the help you can get to make a good first impression."

"Don't waste your time, I'll eat horse snot before I start caring about what any Evans'll think of me."

\\

She'd helped with the grocery shopping during her lunch break, but she may as well have gone home with Tsubaki for all the good she was doing at the vet in her frazzled state. Maka sighed, waiting for blood test results, swinging her short legs off the edge of a high stool. She should have known better than to go to the general manager to sort out her troubles brought on by Soul's random request. Oh, she'd sorted them alright- directly into biscuits and buns. No one should be wearing such a knowing glance when they didn't actually know anything.

Maka sighed at the blood test machine. She had twenty minutes until she was excused for the day. All her duties were completed, barring this last blood test, and in her boredom she most certainly did not wonder if she needed to dress nicely for an Easter get-together with a family she hadn't had any intentions of meeting in the first place. And she wouldn't be bringing any cookies! She'd just go and be Soul's excuse to 'leave early', and while she was there she would see for herself the kind of people that would sell their land and give up ranching for money.

The familiar burn of her prejudices made itself known, though it felt halfhearted. She hated that Soul Evans had made things complicated; until he came around, she'd been far more sure of herself.

Her results came in, the machine beeping with insistence. The printer spewed out numbers and charts, and they were just the same as they'd been all week: the blood tested was positive for an unknown substance.

Maka frowned, wondering what was going on with the stray, unbranded calf that had been dumped at the clinic. It bawled in its pen for its mother while Nygus made another bottle for it to nurse. "Same results, Mira," she said.

Miranda shook her head. "I don't understand it. Guess I'll send a sample elsewhere. Until we're sure he doesn't have anything infectious, we'll just have to keep him quarantined. Poor thing."

"Nobody's reported a missing calf?" Maka asked, tapping the bottom edge of the printouts to staple them.

"Nothing at all, so says your Daddy-Sheriff," the woman replied, shaking the large bottle in her hand. "Go ahead and pack up. I can take care of the rest."

Maka's hand paused as she placed the results in a marked file. "Are you sure? If there's anything you need help with..."

"I'll let you and Kim know, trust me. Go on, get. Head's been up in the clouds all afternoon," she smiled. "Gotcha a boyfriend?"

Maka accidentally slammed the filing cabinet, startled. Cooties. "No," she said, aghast.

\\

Her truck was thirteen years old. It'd been her mother's until she learned how to drive. There was a long crack in the windshield, and the beige paint was beginning to chip on the hood, but the air conditioning was cold, and the engine still ran strong. Though the stereo played CDs, Maka used the cassette player the most. Her mother had had a large collection of tapes, and Maka kept her personal favorites in the truck.

She'd been listening to a lot of blues harmonica, as of late. It made her remember sweltering summer nights, the smell of cut hay, and her parents dancing to music in the living room. And now, just a little bit, it made her remember their newest ranch hand facing a warm fire under the night sky.

Still a little lost in nostalgia and wistful feelings she couldn't name, Maka was mostly driving on auto-pilot as she pulled onto the property, and didn't notice her usual parking spot was already occupied until she was nearly in it. A car she'd never seen before was parked there, and not far away was Patricia Thompson ineffectually trying to restrain Soul Evans, who, judging by his face, had a mighty need to get into the house and raise hell. Maka parked off to the side in a spot usually reserved for visitors, killed the engine, and trotted over.

"Soul, you kint!" Patti warned him, hanging on to his left arm with all her strength. "Jus' calm the hell down an' stay out!"

"Ge'rrof me, Pat!"

Maka raised her voice, bewildered by Soul's behavior. "What's going on?"

"I know that car anywhere, too clean for any decent person what lives out here," he snarled, dragging Patti along the yard.

"Maks, do something," the younger blonde urged, digging her heels into the ground.

As if she knew what was going on! Still, Maka did her best to block Soul's path, hands held up in peace. To his credit, he attempted not to plow through her, and she moved from one side to the other, making it her business to stall him for as long as possible. "Soul, what's got into you? Hang on a minute!"

"There ain't no time, dammit, she's in there prolly lookin' to see where to put her damn furniture!"

"What on earth are you talking about? She, who?"

And then a woman stepped out the back door. She was thin, not much taller than Maka, with long, pin-straight platinum hair and sporting a casual dress that came to her knees. On her feet were cowboy boots of such a design and color that made plain were for fashion and not function. She glanced nervously over to the three of them before straightening her bangs and holding the door open for yet another woman to step out.

This one was taller, dressed in a long duster buttoned over a blouse and crisp dress pants, all in a uniform shade of black. Her hair draped on one side of her neck in a golden cascade. The first woman, more a mere girl by comparison, shadowed her across the porch.

Soul froze in his tracks when the taller of the two strangers looked over in their direction and smirked. "Hello, Mister Evans," the woman said, amusement tinting her smooth voice. "So good to see you're doing well." Patti reluctantly let up on her tugging, settling to keep on hand on Soul's elbow.

Maka's attention flipped back and forth between the newcomers behind her and Soul's clenching jaw in front of her. She was near ready to introduce herself and ask what all the fuss was about when the woman spoke again: "The silent treatment still? Surely there's no hard feelings after all this time," she said with the slightest tilt of her head.

Soul made no response, though Patti forced out a long, measured breath through the nose, her blue eyes glacial.

"It looked pretty grim there for awhile," the mystery woman drawled, undeterred. "I was so glad to hear your family was able to take care of your health expenses."

"I bet you were," Soul growled, so low that only Maka and Patti could hear. His voice made the small hairs under Maka's ponytail stand on end.

In her left arm, the woman in black held an envelope-type purse, and she pulled from this a dark pair of sunglasses. "You gave your folks quite a scare," she said as she unfolded the glasses and smoothly placed them on her serene face. "I just can't imagine what got into Ragnarok that day."

Soul's body stiffened. Looking at him, Maka found his mouth faintly ajar, his shoulders slowly inching up in defense. "Get out," he said, voice carrying across the porch. He leaned forward with his anger, as if he wanted to personally escort the strangers himself. He only took one step forward before Patti was back to pulling his arm again. Maka braced her hands on his chest in alarm.

"Whoa! Soul, what's wrong with you?" she hissed. He stayed in place, but wouldn't acknowledge her, wearing a look that could melt through the toughest of hide.

"You don't belong here and you certainly ain't welcome," he snarled at the strangers.

Maka glanced over her shoulder at the women, finding the shorter one eyeing Soul with a nervous frown while the taller lets out a single laugh, more smug than before.

"You can't order me anywhere, ranch hand," she teased.

Well, Maka may not have much of a clue about what was happening, but a part of Angel's End's crew was upset and this woman was most certainly the cause. Keeping one hand on Soul, she whirled around. "Begging your pardon," she said, projecting her voice the way Mama always did, "but if your business is done here, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Doubts and reminders that she wasn't anyone special either climbed up the back of her throat and left a bitter taste on her tongue; that totem pole of her choosing placed her even lower in rank than the hand, but she was her father's daughter, damn it, and just this once a ranch princess might serve a purpose.

The woman finally acknowledged her existence and gave a little chuckle, as if finding her quaint. "My business is done, for now. And you might be?"

Her first instinct was to proudly shout her name, but it was more satisfying to turn that condescending tone right back to the stranger. "That's none of your concern. Now go on," she sneered, nodding her head to the shining sedan in her parking spot.

Finally, the woman looked less than amused. She held her envelope to the side, and her shorter companion quickly took it and went to the car, hopping into the front passenger seat. The engine started. "You must be Spirit Albarn's daughter," the stranger said. As if this statement spoke for itself, she went right back to ignoring Maka and addressed Soul, instead. "My regards to your family, Mister Evans," she said dismissively, walking down the porch steps.

A third person - a hulking man with scruffy sideburns and a chest that was only barely contained by the buttons of his shirt - got out of the driver's seat of the sedan and walked around the vehicle to open a back door for the woman in black.

Glad to see her finally leaving, Maka turned back to Soul to get to the bottom of this circus, but he wrenched away. Anger rolled off him in waves as he headed away from the house. Patti followed him, saying, "Oh you best not be goin' to the horses!"

Before Maka could follow, she heard a deep voice from behind her shout in surprise. The driver of the sedan was waving his hands threateningly towards Crona, who had come to investigate the unfamiliar tires of the car. "Oi! You little mongrel, git outta here."

The chihuahua urinated on a tire.

"Crona!" Maka exclaimed, embarrassed but proud all the same. "Come here, you," she called, before the man decided that her dog was perfect kicking size. The dog obediently came to her, jumping into her open arms. Maka exchanged glances with the driver, who snorted and walked back to the other side of the car, getting in behind the wheel.

The powered rear passenger window rolled down, and dark sunglasses were pointed in her direction. "You have a nice piece of property here, Miss Albarn," the woman in black said with a smile. "Cherish it."

Uneasiness seeped into her gut, but she tamped it down. "Good afternoon, ma'am," she replied, unfriendly voice at odds with the polite farewell. The woman gave one last smirk before her tinted window rolled up, and Maka couldn't help but feel as though a bulls-eye had just been painted on her as she watched the car circle the driveway and leave.

Eager to get to the bottom of any of the mysteries she'd witnessed, she carried Crona and jogged after Patti and Soul, who were now at the corral just outside the stables. The horse wrangler stood in front of the gate, refusing to let the other pass. When Maka was in earshot she heard the girl say, "You ain't goin' in there when you're hot, you'll spook every last one."

"Pat," Soul said, attempting to at least appear calm. "She's my horse, I'm goin' for a ride."

Patti only shook her head, glaring. "Goin' fast won't help nothin' if yer lost."

Maka caught up with them just as Soul growled, pulling his hat off and angrily rubbing his head. Slightly out of breath, she said, "Will someone tell me who the hell that was?"

"She's a witch, is what. Did you hear what she said?" Soul said to Patti, whose expression immediately darkened.

"She sed a lotta things."

Between his bared teeth, he grit out, "About the bull."

"I heard it, alright? That don't mean nothin', Soul, she's jus' messin' with yer head."

The hand huffed with frustration as he stalked off a couple yards away to cool off. Crona twitched and trembled in Maka's arms.

"What's he talking about? Who was that woman?"

Patti looked to Maka with a knowing kind of worry lining her young face, looking remarkably like her older sister. "That was Maddy Georgian."

Maka blinked. Two facts of information swirled in a never-ending loop in her mind, reminiscent of vultures: Maddy Georgian was the owner of Lazy S, and was the one who bought out the Evans property.

"You better go in and talk to Mr. Albarn 'cause there ain't no friendly reason on this earth for that woman to come 'round here," Patti said.

Heart lurching, Maka turned her head to look at Soul standing a few feet away, who also uneasily looked in her direction. That 'No Purpose' world was pressing in on her at his expression, and she carefully handed her dog to Patti before turning around and breaking into a run.

(She's in there prolly lookin' to see where to put her damn furniture!)

\\

The longer she thought about it, the more she realized her father was home unusually early. He'd already had a day off this week, but here he was, in his little office, pouring himself a measure of whiskey in a small tumbler while it was still daylight outside.

"Hey, sweets," he said, raising no fuss when he saw her out of breath and still in her boots. Spirit was in his ranch clothes - now a strange sight after becoming accustomed to his work uniform. He took off his hat as he walked by an occupied saddle stand, and sat in his worn chair behind his desk.

"You're home early," Maka accused.

Spirit took a sip of his whiskey. "Miss Georgian requested a meetin'," he sighed. "How's your day been?"

She tossed her head to one side, annoyed. "What kind of meeting?" she said, air puffing through her nose as she caught her breath.

He set the glass on the desk, a finger scratching his eyebrow. She'd skipped over his question, so he did the same. "How's your schoolin' comin' on?"

"It's fine," she said, giving in. "...Why?"

Spirit picked up his glass only to idly swirl its contents. His gaze fell on the saddle next to his desk. Maka shifted her weight, crossing her arms and denying her own anxiety. "D'you think, hypothetical, that doctoring critters is somethin' you could make a livin' from?"

She hated that he didn't ask her directly, his eyes never leaving the saddle. "Just what are you saying?"

He sucked in a deep breath and leaned back, opening the desk's pencil drawer. He pulled out a folded paper, set it on the desk, and nudged it over to her with a finger, the sheet skittering across the stained wood. She didn't let herself hesitate, walking forward and snatching it off the desk.

She recognized it as the one he'd pocketed at breakfast a few days ago. The letter had the Lazy S brand stamped at the bottom. "W-what am I looking at," she asked, though she knew exactly what she was reading. Involved in the bulk of the text was a number with several zeros trailing after it.

"Her offer," Spirit murmured. To the outraged betrayal on her face, he said, "I didn't say 'yes'. I didn't express any interest at all, 'hon." The familiar eyes she'd known all her life were finally, earnestly making contact with hers. "That woman is hell-bent on kickin' us outta here by any means necessary."

Maka heard the letter crinkle in her hands, and she had to concentrate to put it back on the desk and not crumple it further. "Why?" she asked, swallowing a powerful desire to say some undignified things about a woman she'd hardly spoken to. "We've done nothing to her."

Spirit shook his head. "You haven't. Miss Georgian hasn't taken kindly to the county sheriff snoopin' around," he said with a sigh. "And she's a businesswoman. She wants to take out the competition, and when they don't take the easy way," he said, indicating the paper on the desk, "then I suspect she makes it tougher on them."

On 'us', is what he meant to say. "We're not giving up Mama's land," she hissed, fists clenching at her sides.

"That's the last thing I wanna do, sweets," Spirit said quietly.

"Then why're you lookin' like that!" she said, and the waver in her voice made her feel like a child. But he looked defeated already, resigned to a fate she refused to accept!

"If we don't break even come fall, I'm not sure we can keep goin'. We might be able t'keep the land with my salary and if you get a job with your schoolin', but we couldn't pay our outfit normal, much less cattle upkeep."

The boots on her feet felt painfully expensive all of a sudden. The memory of Tsubaki rubbing her stomach and speaking worriedly in Japanese to Mifune flitted through her mind and tied her up in knots.

"Cherish it," Georgian had said. The 'while you still can' had been implied.

Her eyes burned, feeling very much the No-Purpose ranch princess. "We take her offer and everyone loses their home anyway!"

Spirit set his whiskey down and got out of his chair, coming around his desk to gently put his hands on Maka's shoulders. "I don't wanna sell Angel's End anymore'n you. I'm tellin' you how it is. I planned on dyin' here and bein' buried next to your momma. But you are my daughter, understand? You're my pri-ority. I care 'bout everyone else, but I'll do what needs done to keep a roof over your head."

Her maturity went at war with the mental image of a second headstone. She understood his perspective, but she could manage just fine on her own without being supported by her father.

The land, however, was different. In a very intimate, lonely corner of her heart, Maka Albarn admitted to having no idea whatsoever if she could manage without the land supporting her feet.

"We jus' gotta break even, sweets. Nothin'll change if we manage that."

Choked silent by her greatest fears, her gaze fell on Mama's saddle. Her eyes followed the outline of the brass horn down to the delicately worked seat. Was this how it felt, to consider selling out? Like negotiating to have one's blood be siphoned? Like the stars burning out in the sky?

"You concentrate on your schoolin', Maka," Spirit said with finality, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze.

"Yes Papa," she managed to force out her tight throat, pulling away and stepping out of the room.

Her eyes blurring with anxiety and frustration, she damn near ran into Evans. He leaned on a wall in the hallway, clearly within earshot of anything that may have taken place in her father's office. She was torn between either punching him for being so blatantly casual about his eavesdropping, or simply dropping to the floor, in terror of sharing his fate.

Between them at their feet was Crona, urinator of tires. He must have escaped Patti; perhaps both of them had. She bent to pick up the dog, letting him soak up her turmoil.

Soul gave her a careful look and tilted his head up slightly, exposing his eyes. They were considerably calmer than earlier. "Mitch wants me to ride fence. Wanna come with?"

It was such a left-field subject that her own confusion calmed her down just the slightest bit. It was closer to night than noon, and riding fence was a one man job - but being on horseback sounded therapeutic enough to overlook those facts. She gave a curt nod, not trusting her voice, and Soul pushed off the wall and left without another word.

As she watched his back, she found herself wondering how he could function. She'd seen how violently he'd reacted to Maddy Georgian stepping foot on Angel's End, and how he'd defended it despite the few months he'd been living here. He obviously carried resentment; the loss of his home seemed to weigh as heavily on him as a summer's day was long. And she'd never noticed.

More accurately, she'd never asked.

Maka reluctantly followed after him, seeking answers from a man she'd unfairly judged for simply having the experience required to obtain those answers.

\\

He was waiting for her at the tool shed, gathering fence repair tools and spare wire. She led Skully over, who'd already been saddled by a glowering Patti. Her horse made soft wuffling noises against the hood of Maka's light jacket.

They rode out to the far west fence line and headed north. Crona stood in her lap, watching the land go by, enjoying the late sun. Harley seemed bored of the slow pace while Maka's horse flanked the mare, content. The rhythm of being on horseback, the soft thud-thud of Skully's hooves on the earth, and the harmonic companionship of a fellow rider lulled Maka into a pacifying trance that cooled her head and negated any further attempts of her eyes threatening to leak.

After three quarters of a mile, Maka softly broke the silence. "Is that how it started?"

He didn't turn to face her. "Hm?"

"When your land was sold," she clarified, though she was fairly certain she hadn't needed to.

They reached the cross fence to the northwest pasture, and Evans dismounted and moved the gate aside for the both of them. After shutting the gate and climbing back onto his horse, he finally answered.

"My family's property was... maybe thrice this size," he started. After a pause, he amended with, "Not to sound competitive or anything. Just givin' you an idea." His horse picked a route around a copse of mesquite, Skully following. "The land was always 'The Evans property'. Some distant great-whathaveyou grandmother of mine took claim of it.

"Wes and me, the both of us were nearly born with hats on. That land was our life. M'sure you know how it is." He briefly glanced over to her then, nothing but a hat brim and half a smile. It was gone in an instant, and he was back to watching the fence as they rode on.

"And then, outta nowhere this outfit snatches up old JB's place. Surprised us, seein' as he'd just died all of a sudden, and instead of the land goin' to his folks, it goes to some name we ain't ever heard. Gets changed to 'Lazy S' and we start seein' the brand poppin' up. That snake-arrow," Soul sneered, voice gone bitter.

"Bought the neighbors. Knocked on our door. Made the offer." His chin tilted up, and it took a few seconds for Maka to realize that Soul looked somewhat proud. "My folks refused, o'course. We'd been raisin' the best Angus this side of the Divide, so like hell we were gonna quit on account of money. Didn't need none of that. But when it came time to ship?" Soul shook his head. "That Lazy S had so much head of cattle, so bulked up and fat. After long, our buyer wouldn't shake hands on the deals we'd been makin' for years. 'Ventually, he wouldn't buy from us at all.

"Couldn't make ends meet after that. Few years and our cushion was runnin' dry. All the while that Lazy S would be givin' us hell, sabotagin' the windmills, settin' fire to the fields, cuttin' the fence-"

Maka couldn't hold her tongue at this. "Are you serious? Who even does that anymore? Didn't Papa-" she cut herself off, shaking her head a moment, "Didn't the authorities ever do anything?"

Soul scoffed. "Weren't no proof." He looked to her suddenly, one hand raised to speak with. "Ah, not for yer pop's lack of tryin'. He was over all the time, tryin' to get to the bottom of it."

She wasn't sure what to say to this, so she avoided the topic, saving this information regarding her father for later. "Is that why Mitch is having you ride fence?"

"Might've given him the notion," he said, rubbing under his nose.

Maka sorely doubted that Maddy Georgian, or anyone working for her, would cut a fence on the same day she set up a meeting to make an offer on the property. That would take a lot of assuming that she'd be declined, not to mention a lot of just plain meanness.

"Better safe than sorry, I suppose," she said mostly to herself.

Soul agreed with a grunt.

Crona turned in her lap as they kept riding, settling down to keep warm in the folds of Maka's jacket. The sun was falling to the ground, making the shadows of their leggy horses stretch long. "So, is that it?" Maka found herself asking. "What happened after that?"

Soul seemed to deflate in his saddle. His words came out snide. "Well. I got my dumb ass in the hospital, and that took up what was left of the savings. And then some. They took the next offer she gave. I didn't even know it, bein' in phys'cal therapy. Then they all packed up. Wanted nothin' more to do with cattle n'snakes."

"But you didn't," said Maka.

She watched him look beyond the fence and towards the orange horizon. "I ain't meant for city life," she thought she heard him say.

After counting a measure of T posts, she replied, "Neither am I."

He glanced back, giving her that half smile again. "Can't let it go either, huh?" After a moment, he sighed. "Look, I don't wanna see it happen all over. Not to anyone, but specially not to you and yours."

She'd figured believing him would feel stranger than this, but it didn't. It rang so true there was no room for doubt at all. "You're ours too," she heard herself say.

He laughed, grin as genuine as the rest of him. "Am I now?"

And his horse tripped on cut barbed wire.