Miles makes his way down the main street of Arnette, Texas, squinting against the swirling dust. Now and then, the sunlight causes the dirt to shimmer - almost as if Mother Nature herself is trying to make this shithole look a little less shitty.

"No dice, Mother Nature," Miles grumbles as he steps over a man who is lying spread eagle on the filthy street. The man's mouth is hanging open and he's snoring loudly.

On the other side of the street, a corpse is hanging from an old street sign but only the swarming flies seem to care. Miles just shakes his head and keeps walking.

He pauses briefly when he notices two scantily clad women making out against the wall of an old drug store. He smiles a little. "That's not so bad."

His smile fades as two men thunder by on foot. A third follows, shooting one of the fleeing men right in the back. He falls dead. The others keep running.

He shakes his head, the smile now gone as he makes his way toward the Lone Star. With every step that he takes, Miles gets more aggravated.

"This town is a fucking cesspool."

He walks through the front door of the bar, passing a man who is leaving with a knife sticking out of his thigh. Miles ignores him and heads straight over to where Rufus is pouring drinks for some customers. He takes a seat at the bar and waits till the bartender is free.

Rufus pushes a whiskey his way without being asked. "You look awful surly, even for you."

"I hate this fucking town," Miles mutters.

"What? The Welcome Wagon didn't put enough fruit in your basket?"

Miles just grunts in response.

Rufus tries again. "Didn't sleep good last night?"

"Not particularly, no. GI Joe was up all night banging a bunch of chicks. Again. That guy needs some volume control."

Rufus chuckles. "Do you really think he is trying to bring the Patriots back? Seems like he's mostly focused on getting laid."

"Good question. The intel seems to say yes, but you're right. He doesn't fit the bill."

Just then, Bass and Charlie walk past. She has just finished her last set and they now have an hour before her next one. Bass yells over at Rufus, "We'll be back in a bit. Just taking a break." His grin says what his words don't.

Miles growls into his drink.

Rufus knows he probably shouldn't say anything, but he can't help himself. "Speaking of people who need volume control…" He nods at the couple as they make their way up the stairs.

"Shut it."

Rufus is drying a glass with a questionable terry cloth towel. "Hey, Stu, you talk to either of them about any of this? Did you tell them you don't like them together?"

Miles shakes his head. "What's the point? They're both adults. I don't have a say. If he breaks her heart, that's a different story though."

"Makes sense." Rufus pauses before speaking again. "For what it's worth, I think they really like each other."

Miles holds up a hand, urging the bigger man to stop talking. "Regardless, I want to get out of this shitty town. The sooner the better." Miles takes a deep drink, gulping down the last of his whiskey and stands. He looks like a man on a mission.

"What's your plan?" Rufus asks.

"Time to stop all this waiting and watching. I'm going to get some goddamned answers."

"From who?"

"Harry P. Truman himself. Gonna ask that jackass what his deal is."

Rufus frowns. "And you think he'll just tell you?"

Miles smiles slowly and his eyes narrow. "He might need a little persuading. Been a while, but I still know how to get someone to talk."

"You have experience as an interrogator?"

"Yeah, you could say that." Miles shrugs. "I had this job once…"

Rufus pales at the coldness in Miles's voice. "So, Stu? Were you any good at that uh…job?"

Miles shrugs. "Let's just say I'm pretty confident I can get to the bottom of this shit pretty quickly. Maybe then we can get the hell out of this town once and for all."

Rufus watches as Miles leaves, and he feels a sliver of pity for Truman. "Wouldn't want to be that guy right now, no matter how much tail he gets."

Bass and Charlie are in her room. The raucous sounds from the bar below echo through the floorboards. The old bed creaks in a rhythm as old as time. Bass sits on the bed, leaning against the rusted iron headboard. His pants are bunched at his knees and a very naked Charlie rides him slowly.

He reaches up, pinching at dusky pink nipples. Charlie leans in close, biting lightly at his earlobe. "You like this?" She slides up and down his throbbing cock, loving the way he fills her.

"Fuck yes. Don't stop." Bass grasps her hips, sliding his fingers around to cup her firm ass.

Charlie smiles knowingly and rotates her hips, and as her pussy gyrates over his cock, he groans.

Thrusting up into her, he can't stop the pleading tone in his voice. "Faster."

She complies, still smiling as she begins to bounce.

"Yeah. Just like that." He digs his fingers into her hips and yanks her down hard on his cock.

He takes one hand from her him and moves it to her clit. He strokes the little nub with a rough finger. Charlie breaks apart, her pussy clenching him tightly in waves. He pulls from her and turns to the side, fisting his cock to a quick completion. They collapse into a heap and Bass strokes her hair.

After a while, he breaks the silence. "Got to ask you a question, Charlie."

"Anything."

"Tell me the truth. This op you're on for Blanchard? Truman - do you really think this guy is trying to bring back the Patriots?" He sounds skeptical.

Charlie chuckles against his chest. "Well, I did at first, but not anymore."

"So, he's not Ed Truman 2.0?"

"No." She shakes her head. "Harry is nothing like his brother. Not even close."

"Is he dangerous?"

Charlie bites her lip. "Nah. He's really not."

Bass frowns. "Not that I'm complaining, but why did you call Miles and me to join you here if Truman is a non-threat?"

"Well, it's a long story."

"I got time, Charlie."

She sighs. "Fine. I've been tailing that idiot for a long time and making no progress. I'd been asking Blanchard for some time off. Told him I needed a break. He wasn't a fan of the idea."

"Sorry. I'm not connecting the dots here."

"I thought I could jump start the investigation. I stepped up my game. Got in really close to Truman. I flirted with him. I told him I had an inside line to some cheap weapons. Took some chances, I guess, but he never took the bait. Didn't give a shit about weapons. He did like the flirting."

"Asshole," Bass mutters, pulling Charlie close in a possessive embrace. "So what finally changed your mind about Truman?"

"He offered me a job."

"A job? Doing what?"

"Well, it wasn't as a Patriot." She leans back, looking him in the eye. "Bass, Here's the truth. Truman wants to open a whore house here in Arnette. Says the good ones all closed due to poor management and shitty hookers. Anyway, he figures this is a town that is ripe for some fresh action. His words. Not mine."

Bass sputters. "So he asked you to be a hooker? And he's still walking around with both of his balls attached?"

She laughs. "Very funny. I told him thanks, but no thanks. It was in that moment that I had an epiphany."

"Really? What kind of epiphany is that?"

"I'd been spending a lot of time alone and I'd been thinking about…stuff."

Bass grins. "Never been called 'stuff' before." He dodges the punch she throws his way.

"Anyway, I decided I was tired of waiting for Blanchard to give me a vacation and I was tired of waiting for you to get your head out of your ass and come find me. After I told Truman no, I told him that my boyfriend would be in town soon. That's when I sent for you." She pokes him in the chest and laughs as he grabs her and rolls on top, holding her down.

He kisses her soundly. "You're a minx. This was all part of your plan?"

"Well, I wasn't sure it would work, but I was tired of waiting and you aren't getting any younger -"

They are both laughing when they hear a tentative knock on the door.

Bass rolls away and Charlie grabs a blanket and wraps it around her body. He doesn't bother with doing anything other than yanking his jeans up. They hang open, showing a shadow of dark golden curls. He grabs a sword, holding it at the ready.

Bass is right behind her when Charlie opens the door. Rufus looms there, looking strangely shy. "Um, you probably need to get dressed and find Stu. He just went to get answers out of Truman."

"What are you talking about?" Bass asks, a knot of worry building in his chest.

Rufus won't meet Bass's eyes. "Stu still thinks the Patriot thing is happening and he doesn't want to be here anymore, so he's going over there to make that guy talk."

"Shit, he's going to question Truman?" Bass asks.

"Yeah, and it didn't sound like he was going to stop at saying please."

"Wait," Charlie says, poking a finger into Rufus's chest. "Were you out there listening while we talked and… well, were you listening while we talked?"

"Not just listening, I bet." Bass's voice is tight he snaps his jeans with one hand. With the other, he points at Rufus. "You were our peeping tom."

"Hey. I live and breathe this stupid bar. You guys – well, you've been a nice distraction." He turns to Charlie. "I'm sorry. I really am."

She scowls. "That's gross, Rufus, really gross I should slice off your balls."

"Ah hell, Charlie. I'm harmless. I promise. All I like to do is watch."

Charlie eyes the taller man carefully. Since her first day here, Rufus has been nothing but nice to her. He's helped her out of more than one tight spot. "Fine, but don't do it again, okay?"

Rufus holds up two fingers. "Scouts honor."

Bass pulls on his boots. "Yeah, right. Listen, none of that matters. We need to get to Miles before he does something in the name of Texas that shouldn't be done."

"You think he'll go that far?" Charlie asks, skeptical.

"He was our lead interrogator in the early years of the Republic. Trust me. We need to get over there fast."

"Why did he quit the interrogator job? Was he bad at it?" Rufus asks.

Bass grunts. "The opposite. After the Battle of Baltimore, he decided he needed to take a step back. I didn't argue. Sometimes he forgets when to stop."

Harry P. Truman's room at the boarding house is usually full of busty women and non-stop orgies, but not tonight. No. Tonight this room is full of pain.

His ankles and wrists are anchored to the four corners of his bed. His mouth is stuffed with a pair of his own dirty underwear and looming over his bed is none other than the Butcher of Baltimore.

"Okay. Gonna ask again. I need names. Who is involved in this bullshit Patriot plot with you?" Miles holds up a pair of pliers and waggles them teasingly at the man on the bed. Drops of blood splatter to the bed from the ends of his tool.

Truman's eyes are wide and frantic. He shakes his head wildly. "Mrggh, neguuuh. Neguuuh!"

"I had a feeling you were going to say that." Miles leans down and holds the man's foot still with an iron grip as he nudges the pliers around the man's smallest toe.

Bass and Charlie run to the boarding house and take the stairs two at a time. They don't have to ask which room to go to. They can hear muffled screams from the hallway.

"Shit. We might be too late," Bass says.

Bass tries the knob and it's locked. He glances up and down the hallway and, seeing nobody, shoves his shoulder into the door. The lock breaks and the wood around it cracks. He shoves the door open and stumbles into the room.

Bass takes one look at the immobilized Truman and groans. "Ah hell, Miles."

Miles looks up from his work when they walk in. "Fucker doesn't want to talk." Then he turns back to his work and yanks hard. Harry's toenail pops free and his eyes roll back in his head. Tears are streaming down his cheeks.

Charlie steps into the room and sees the bloody foot in Miles's hand. "Oh god. I'm going to be sick."

Bass puts a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You gotta stop."

"No. Need to get answers." Miles is weary.

"Hey, brother. This douche isn't who we thought he was. He's not a Patriot."

"What?" Miles looks up and his gaze meets Bass's. There is a spark of clarity peeking through the haze that had gripped him. "What?" He asks again, shaking his head. "How do you know that?"

Charlie moves toward Miles and speaks in a soothing voice. "I should have told you earlier. He's building a brothel here in Arnette. That's all. Been cozying up to the locals, asking their opinions. He wants to build an awesome brothel. That's his master plan. He wants to run a whore house, not a Patriot cel."

Bass cuts in. "He's been doing his own market research so he can build the best little whore house in Texas 2.0. Evidently some of his questions were misconstrued and Blanchard got word and jumped to conclusions."

Charlie nods. "He had a bad habit of using his brother's name to make some connections. That didn't help either. People got the wrong idea."

Miles rubs his eyes. "That's why he asked what my ideal woman is?" He looks at Truman. Truman nods urgently. Snot leaks from his nose.

Miles turns to glare at Charlie. "If he just wants to be a pimp, why the fuck are we here?"

"It's a long story. I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

Miles throws the bloody pliers to the floor. "This sucks balls. I'm going home."

"Wait!" Bass follows Miles out while Charlie unties Truman.

The men both get to the porch moments later. Bass reaches out and grabs Miles's shoulder. "What's going on? I get that you're pissed about me and Charlie but did you really have to go full out Butcher on the guy?"

"I wasn't close to full out Butcher. I didn't even cut him."

"Yet."

"Yet." Miles sits down heavily on the porch steps and pulls a whiskey bottle from his pocket. "Shit."

Bass sits next to his friend. "What's going on? Truth? Something has been eating at you for weeks."

"Before we came here, Rachel told me something. Something big." Miles takes a gulp from his bottle and shakes his head. He looks exhausted.

"Told you what?" Bass feels suddenly uneasy.

"We've been fighting for a while now. You know that. Once the war was over, there just wasn't enough going on to get in the way of all the shit in our past."

"Okay?"

"So, we were fighting and it was worse than it had been. She might have thrown a rolling pin…"

Bass snorts but regains his composure quickly. "Then what?"

"Then she told me Charlie is my kid. Just blurted it out like she was talking about the weather."

Bass feels his gut sink. "What?"

Behind them the screen door slams shut. Charlie is standing there with her arms crossed. "What did you say?"

Miles doesn't look up. "You heard me."

"Jesus. Did my dad – did he know?" Charlie sounds quiet.

Bass stands and goes to put his arm around Charlie but she shakes him off. "Did he know?" She asks again, her voice stronger.

"No, Charlie. Your mom lied to him too."

"Maybe she lied to you?" Charlie isn't even sure why she's arguing, except that hearing that Ben Matheson wasn't her dad somehow feels a lot like losing him again.

Miles turns. "Sorry, kid. I know this isn't the lottery you were hoping to win. Maybe we can figure out a way to still be… us. You don't have to tell anybody or anything. We never have to mention it again. If you want me to stay your uncle, that's who I'll be. If you want me to try to be more, well, we can work on that."

"I don't know." Charlie shakes her head. Tears are falling. This time when Bass takes her into his arms, she goes willingly.

Miles stands awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. "Hey, Bass. I'm trusting you to take care of her, okay? I'm getting out of town."

Bass nods in agreement. Charlie leaves Bass's arms and takes a tentative step toward Miles. "I don't need anyone to take care of me, you know."

Miles chuckles sadly. "I know. I do, but I worry about you. Always have."

Charlie takes a few more steps in his direction. He meets her in the middle and they embrace. Miles buries his nose in his daughter's hair. His shoulders shake for just a moment before he pulls away. "Hey, Charlie?"

"Yeah?"

"Loved you before I knew this. Still love you. Nothing will change that. Okay?"

She nods. "Love you too, and maybe I'm not totally surprised. It's just really weird. I think I need a little time to adjust."

"Tell me about it." He smirks at her and the tension fades. "Take care of yourself. Take care of that knuckle head too." He nods at Bass.

Bass mumbles something about also not needing to be taken care of, but the others ignore him. Charlie tilts her head. "We'll see you back home?"

"Yeah. See you at home." Miles nods and turns, heading out of town.

*** One Month Later ***

President Blanchard's office is bathed in shadow, save for the lone candle sitting on his desk. Cigar smoke hangs heavy in the air. He leans back, kicking his feet up on his desk and takes a drink from a crystal whiskey snifter. His gaze focuses on the flickering candle. He should be working his way through the big stack of papers next to his feet, but he just can't concentrate.

He's nervous to be honest. It's been a few weeks since he received word that his Generals were on their way back home and he's been on pins and needles ever since.

When he hears Miles bellowing at his assistant Beverly, Frank closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Send him in, Bev."

Miles barges in, the door banging shut behind him. He looks dusty and tired and raging mad. "You son of a bitch!"

"Hey, Miles. I heard Truman wasn't quite the bad guy we'd thought, huh?" He puts his feet back on the ground and clears his throat. "Guess we got our wires crossed."

"Yeah, well I'm going to take those wires and wrap them around your tiny shriveled –"

"Hey!" President Blanchard says, his hands going up. "You don't have to be like that. We really did think he was a bad guy there for a while."

"You are a dick, Frank. When you did think he was a bad guy, you thought it would be a good idea to send Charlie after him, alone?"

Blanchard nods slowly. "She's one of our best. You know that?"

"But she's –"

"No. No but. She's a crack shot with her guns, still better with a bow than most of my men are with bullets. She knows hand to hand. She's good at getting information. She is the best tracker on the payroll for Texas."

Miles sags into the visitor's chair. "But she's my –"

"I know she's your niece and I should have talked to you about it, but at the time, I just knew I wanted my best guy on the job and my best guy was Charlie."

"Not my niece, Frank."

"Huh?"

"She's my girl. My daughter. I didn't know that until recently, but I guess that's why I'm bent out of shape."

Frank leans back in his chair again. "Well, that makes sense. She's clever like her scientist mama and a wicked soldier like her daddy. You know, she's got what it takes to sit in my chair someday. Brains like that along with her fighting skills and this pedigree? She'll be president if she wants it."

"Doubtful." Miles glowers.

"Why?"

"Because I'll bet her new boyfriend will give her a million reasons that being president is a stupid career move. If anybody knows, it's him."

"New boyfriend?" Frank looks lost.

"Yeah, Bass and Charlie are a thing now. He wants to start working with her in the field. They'll be in here for new orders next week. He's stepping down from his current job." Miles shudders. "I blame you, Frank. All this bullshit is your fault."

"Bass? Bass Monroe? And Charlie?" A slow sly grin spreads across his face. "I was wrong. It will be their kid who becomes president. Can you even imagine?"

"I'd rather not."

Frank shakes his head. "Whatever. Rufus sent word that he's going to work in Truman's new place. He said that Harry forgives you. So, that's good."

Miles runs a hand through his hair and smiles a little. "Yeah, sorry about that."

Blanchard shrugs. "It's fine. I'm heading out there in a couple weeks. Going to smooth things over. Make sure there's no hard feelings. All that."

Miles shakes his head. "You never could avoid a decent whore house."

"That is the god's honest truth." Frank nods in agreement. "So what about you? What will the great Miles Matheson do now?"

"Ah, hell. I don't know. Maybe I'll finally retire. I know for sure I need to have a talk with Rachel. Then I'll probably have to find a new place."

"What about you and Charlie? Things okay there?"

"We met up briefly last week. Had a nice long talk. She's still pissed at her mom, but then who isn't? I guess we're both still adjusting to things, but yeah. I think we'll be okay."

The Texas sky is vast and inky black. Bass and Charlie are cuddled together in a pile of blankets, enjoying some quality time before they have to face reality. They are just a day out of Austin but are enjoying this last night in the wild. "You still want to work with me?" Charlie asks him, snuggling close to his chest.

"Yeah, I do. Among other things." He chuckles.

"Oh, really. What other things do you have in mind?"

"All the things, Charlie. We're gonna do it all."

END

A/N Dear Love, I hope that this story was a fun one for you and once again, I just wanted to say how much your friendship means to me. I know it took me a while to finish this birthday fic, but thank you for being patient with me. Sending lots of happy thoughts your way.

A very big thank you to Romeokijai who was my beta throughout this story and who always makes my stuff better.

Leave a comment if you have a moment. I always love to hear what you think.