Soul hauled the kid off of Kippy and drug him by the leg into the bunk house, all the while cursing under his breath.

The kid's head hit the stoop, but he didn't stir.

He was in no condition to complain.

He wreaked of booze and cigarette smoke, and somewhere under that the lingering scent of perfume. The smell made Soul sick to his stomach.

None too gently he flung the kid onto the mattress, as if he weighed nothing. Although Soul was angrier than a horned toad he bent down to remove the kid's boots, mumbling to himself.

The kid sat up suddenly, nearly scaring the day lights out of him. The kid's bleary eyes found his, and Soul was struck by how iridescent green they were. It was probably the booze making them shine.

"Newww boots.. are bloody brilliant." The kid slurred then flashed him a cheeky grin.

"Notsh as nice ash you though. Thank you."

Soul grit his teeth hard, trying not to say anything he would later regret. Fancy pants Albarn was going to cost him his molars one day. At least his hair was already white.

"I'm glad you like your new boots kid, it's a shame I'm going to work you to death as punishment for tonight. Those new boots aren't going to look new by the time you're through."

The kid sighed, like it was no skin off his nose.

"You're right barmy."

"I'm what?" Soul asked, giving the kid an incredulous look.

"Barmy. A bloomin nutter."

Soul shook his head. "Kid, I don't speak drunken British."

"I'm not sloshed, you are!" The kid exclaimed before falling back into the mattress.

He was sound asleep again, almost instantly.

"You're drunk as a skunk kid." Soul chuckled as he finished removing his boots.

The sound of rowdy laughter drifted through the bunk house door. The men were back from the barn, having put the horses up for the night, including his own and the kid's.

Black Star busted in first, his eyes bright with merriment. He walked over to the kid and thew a spare blanket over his still form.

"I can't believe English made it back on his own horse without any help. Call me impressed."

"And he only fell off twice." Justin added.

The men all laughed as they filed in.

"You think this is funny do you?" Soul growled.

"Maybe a little." Black Star snickered as the kid let out a quiet snore.

"He was under your care. How could you let this happend?"

"Relax boss, we were watching him. We wouldn't let anything bad happen to English."

"It was wreckless and you know it. The kid is a foreigner. What if he said the wrong thing to the wrong person? Got shot, or worse yet strung up?"

"In our little ho dunk town? That's pretty far fetched boss."

Soul raked a hand angrily through his hair.

Why weren't they taking this seriously? The kid could have been hurt.

"What's really eatin at you boss?" Black Star asked with a sly smile, "He's growing on you, ain't he?"

"No! I'm his guardian and nothing more. I'm charged with the kid's welfare for Pete's sake!"

Black Star didn't look convinced in the slightest.

"Addmit it boss, you're starting to care for the pup."

Soul sighed and hung his head, there was no point arguing about it. At least the kid was safe. Drunk, but safe.

In the lamp light a pink smudge stood out stark on the kid's pale cheek.

"I understand the drinking, but setting him up with a gal at the whore house? What were y'all thinking? Soul groaned in despair.

"You keep going on about making him into a man, we just figured what better way..." Black Star chuckled.

"A real man is judged by the work he does and by the character he builds."

Black Star let out a bark of a laugh. "Well the kid sure is a character. I gotta give him some credit, he sure can hold his liquor. No fooling, he probably drank half a bottle of whiskey by himself."

"What!" Soul roared in disbelief.

Justin nodded sagely. "Yep, I counted how many rounds he had. I had a bet going with the bar keep. Won myself a whole buck!"

"Look," Soul sighed as he ran a weary hand over his face, "I won't put up with you ruining the kid's morals. No more taking him drinking or carousing."

The men didn't look too happy about it but they all agreed.

"He's going to be sick as a dog in the morning." Little Tad confirmed as he nudged Maka with his boot.

"Let the kid sleep it off in the morning. He's going to have a roaring headache." Soul ordered.

"I'm sure it was worth it, English had a grand old time." Black Star chuckled.

The kid sat up again, barely roused and with great zeal slurred, "Zannnnk yewww Blair!"

The men roared with laughter.

Soul pushed the kid's shoulder back down on the bed.

"Enough of that. Kill the lights and you men go to bed. Tomorrow is going to be a taxing day."

Soul strode out of the bunkhouse with a loud bang.

Stein was goin to skin him alive for this.

Well, if the kid didn't succeed in killing him first.

Someone moaned.

Maka cracked her eyes open to see who had made such a pitiful sound.

Blazing morning light bombarded her, and to her horror she made the same sound she had heard only moments ago.

Her moan was cut short though when she blearily realized she wasn't in her own room.

There were men all around her. They were getting ready for the day; shaving, dressing, crawling out of their bunks with none too quiet curses. The sight of them in various states of undressing made her sit up hastily, which she instantly regretted.

Her head split open and she stifled a moan as she she fell back onto the mattress. The best she could do was pull the blanket up over her eyes. It shut out the light and the horde of half clad men.

"Hey Fancy pants! It's time to get up!" Tad sang merrily as he dove onto her bed and bounced her with out mercy.

"Stop that! If he upchucks in here I'm going to make you clean it up!" Black Star's voice threatened from somewhere in the room. Tad thankfully removed himself from her bed. Maka would have gladly hugged Black Star for saving her if she had only possessed the strength to do so. At this point though she was holding her hands over her ears to keep her brains from exploding out of them.

Hot bile rose up her throat, but she managed keep it down. There was no way she could run out of here with the men still undressed, and in her condition she wouldn't make it half way to the door before she spilled the contents of her stomach.

For one terrible moment Maka realized that she had worse problems than vomiting.

Her chest binding was no longer in place.

It had slipped downward and looped loosely around her waist.

When had that happened?

Had anyone seen her?

Though it hurt her head terribly, she listened intently to the men as they spoke. It sounded like their normally banter, nothing out of the ordinary. Maka breathed a quick sigh of relief, though it was very short lived. All it would take was for one of the men to snatch her blanket away. She would be found out and all her hard work and progress would be for nothing. She would be sent away from here. As much as she liked to think of this as her home, she would always be a guest here. Subject to her strange uncle's every whim.

Maka rolled onto her belly and clutched the blanket tighter. She wriggled deeper into the bedding and tried to remember some kind of prayer that would be suitable under such circumstances. She couldn't think of any. Not even one.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the men left the bunkhouse, leaving it eerily quiet. Timidly she lowered the blanket and blinked. Dust motes danced on ray's of sunlight. Even looking at them made her head ache. Breathing made her head ache.

Maka sat up as gently as possible and re wrapped her chest binding. The smell of Blairs perfume lingered on her shirt. It made her want to retch, but at the same time she relished to femininity of it. When was the last time she had smelled this good? Probably not since leaving London.

Her chest binding back in place she laid back down with a miserable sigh and closed her eyes. The bunkhouse door opened and soft footsteps approached. She thought it was Tsubaki coming to check on her.

She cracked one eye open then immediately clamped a hand over her mouth. The act was as much a reaction of shock as it was to keep the nausea at bay.

A terrible sound came from her mouth, half surprise, half from her stomach.

Soul stood next to her bed, a tin pail in his strong hand. He had a stern look upon his face as he shoved the pail at her.

With great indecency Maka buried her face in the pail and became violently ill.

Soul bearing witness to it would have mortified her beyond measure had she not already felt like dying. Once she was done, she didn't even have the strength to lift her head from the pail. Soul took the pail away, grabbed a fistful of her hair, and tilted her head back. He briskly pushed a rough wet cloth over her face and rasped quietly, "Kid I hope you learned a lesson from all this."

Maka nodded her head slightly. The wet cloth was cold on her feverish skin and she had never felt anything more wonderful. She opend her bleary eyes, expecting to see Soul looming over her, disappointed and fiercely angry.

The fierceness was there, but surprisingly she didn't seen any traces of anger in his face.

"I'm not going to lecture you right now kid," he said in a hushed voice, "but there will be a reckoning for this."

Maka nodded faintly. She knew there would be some kind of consequences for her deplorable actions. She felt ashamed, but mostly she felt sick.

What would her parents think of their daughter drinking in a bawdy house?

She would just add it to the ever growing list of things she would have never done in her old life. She needed to stop comparing herself to who she used to be, and who she was now though. The old Maka was dead. Lady Maka Albarn no longer existed as far as she was concerned. And with this thought, she could easily embrace her new self. Last night had been a great experience, she had enjoyed herself immensely. Her only regrets now was her splitting head and what Soul must think of her.

"I don't regret what I did, but I'm sorry if I shamed you by going overboard." Maka croaked, her throat dry as the desert.

Soul reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small canteen and handed it to her. She smiled gratefully and took a sip. It burned going down. Maka gasped in shock. Soul gave her an amused look.

"A little hair of the dog goes a long way."

"You keep spirits on you?" Maka asked in disbelief.

"There's nothing wrong with drinking kid, just as long as it's done responsibly."

"Is drinking at 9:00 a.m responsible?" Maka asked.

Soul grunted, a slow smile forming. "I guess you have a point there kid."

"So you're not angry with me?" She asked timidly.

He shook his head. "No. I just want you to remeber something for me. Drinking doesn't make a man. When done in excess, a man is liable to make some mighty big mistakes and live to regret them."

Maka touched her hand to her throbbing temple. "It feels like a mistake this morning."

"Right about now, you're regretting that headache; but if that's the only regret you have, then you can consider yourself lucky."

Maka didn't feel very luck at the moment, but she didn't dare argue with the cowboy.

"Thank you for being so kind to me, more so than any drunk deserves." Maka smiled at him sincerely.

"It's my job," he said as he stood up with a frown, "You're in my care until your uncle returns."

For some reason, that statement stung her. For a small moment, she had hoped his kindness had been because he cared; because they were becoming friends.

How silly of her to think that.

She was nothing more than a responsibility to him.

She leaned back against the bed and closed her eyes; to keep the room from spinning, but to also keep the hot bitter tears she felt building behind her lids.

"I'll dump out this puke and leave the bucket here. Any clean up afterwards falls on you."

Maka nodded, not daring to speak.

"I hope you're smart enough to learn from this that getting soused and womanizing aren't all they're cracked up to be. Sleep it off. Drink lots of water, and try to eat something once your guts calm down."

"Fine." She grated through clenched teeth.

Soul said nothing more. He walked away with pail and returned a few minutes later with a new one. He set it next to Maka, pressed his hand briefly on her shoulder in a comforting gesture, and walked out.

Maka felt a keen sense of misery wash over her, and it wasn't just from the hangover.

Responsibility.

Soul's words had hurt her more than she cared to admit.

Was that really how he saw her?

She had just stated to feel like she belonged here too.

Her only glimmer of comfort came from the fact that he had been kind to her today. She reasoned, in her cloudy and aching mind, that if he really didn't care, he would have not bothered with her.

His quiet actions contradicted his icy tone. He had been so understanding about her deplorable behavior. It would have served her right if he'd yelled and been angry. But he hadn't thundered at her, not even once. He had intentionally kept his voice very low and muffled for her, and shown her more kindness than a lush like her deserved.

Still, she couldn't get his words out of her head.

If he didn't want to be her friend, then that was fine. It hurt, but she would manage. Lady Maka was dead. She had run away from everything she knew and loved, gave up women's clothing, crossed oceans, and come to this wild a vast land. Her new self didn't need approval. She could make it here, without Soul's friendship.

She would show him that she did indeed belong here.

Maka woke up to the sound of her stomach growling.

She had slept most of the day away, judging by how much sunlight flooded the room. She sat up slowly to test her head and stomach. Both felt surprisingly well. In fact she felt almost like a new person, her strength and vigor back to normal.

Now she just needed some food.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and slid into her new boots. She couldn't help but smile at her feet. Western boots were odd compared to her English riding boots, but she decided she quite liked them. She would have to thank Soul again for getting them for her.

Soul...

The thought of him made her stomach drop with dread, his words from earlier coming back.

Was she nothing but a chore. A nuisance?

Well, she would just have to work harder and prove him wrong. She wouldn't be a burden to anyone.

Her resolve building she marched outside, determined to find some work to do.

The yard was a whirlwind of activity, men dashing here an there, loading crates into covered wagons, saddling horses, mending leather. Maka felt on edge, most of the faces passing by ones she didn't recognize.

Who were all these people?

Above the din she heard a familiar and distinct voice. Standing on her toes Maka spotted the unmistakable shock of blue hair.

Black Star stood next to one of the wagons, waving his arms wildly and cackling. Whatever was going on had him hopping around like the rabbits she often saw in the surrounding meadows.

She made a bee line for him, trying her best not to be trampled underfoot by the ebb and flow of bodies. Half way to him he locked eyes with her, a big grin splitting his face.

"Hey English, welcome back to the land of the living!" He yelled above the noise.

"You know that I blame you for behing a bad influence on me." Maka laughed as she made it by his side.

"Yeah, but you have to admit you had fun."

She rolled her eyes dramatically, but couldn't stop the smile.

"Maybe a little."

"Well English, you did good, you can drink with me and Justin any day."

Justin's head popped out of the covered wagon and nodded vigorously.

How long had he been in there? Maka marveled once more at how silent Justin could be.

"So what's going on around here? Who are all these people?" Maka asked, surveying the mass of working cowboys.

"It's the spring round up. We usually hire some extra hands to help out."

"What is a round up?" Maka asked.

It was probably a dumb question, but Black Star never seemed to mind her uneducated queries. He was far more patient with her than most.

"Welp, we round up the cattle in one area, sort them, send some to market, and brand all the new calves that were born this spring."

"All of the cows? Is there really that many on the ranch?" Maka asked bewildered. She still had so much to learn.

Black Star chuckled and shook her shoulder affectionately like an older brother would.

"They're called cattle English, not cows. Cows are for milking, we raise cattle for beef. And we have more cattle than any other ranch in the area."

"How long does it take to do a round up?" Maka asked as she eyed the loaded wagons.

Black Star scratched his head in thought.

"We camp out on the range during round ups, we won't be back here for another month, maybe even a little longer depending on how far scattered the cattle are this year. Plus the weather could always dlow us down too."

Bloody hell, no wonder they were loading wagons down with food and supplies. They weren't planning on returning for some time.

Maka smiled, feeling suddenly elated; the hunger and wanderlust thick as mud.

That un-namable place in her heart that she could never seem to fill, it trembled at the thought of leaving. A new adventure awaited her.

"What's got you grinning like a madman?" Black Star chuckled at her broad smile.

"Oh, I'm excited is all. I must go pack my things! When do we leave?"

"We?" Asked a low voice from behind her.

The hair on her neck stood up and a cold shiver ran down the length of her spine. She could feel him standing behind her, like an ill omen or a cold wind.

She tilted her head back to look at him and was met with smoldering crimson eyes.

"There is no "we" Kid. You're not going with us."

The kid spun around, his little nose nearly hitting Soul's chest.

"I beg your pardon?" He huffed, his face defiant.

Soul was a bit taken back by the hostile tone in the kids voice.

What the Fuck was wrong with fancy pants now?

Soul looked down at him, his cheeks flushed and his green eyes bright with anger.

This morning he was sick as a dog and quite complacent. Now he was being all feisty and uppity.

The kid squared his shoulders and even though he was smaller, the kid somehow managed to look down his nose at him. It always irked Soul when the kid did that. He hated when he put on those English airs. That high and mighty look drove him mad.

"You can't leave me here." The kid practically whined.

"I most certainly can kid, and I will."

The kids nostrils flared.

Good, Soul hoped it would make the brat mad. It's what he deserved for blatantly challenging his word.

"But I could be an asset to the round up, you'll need an extra pair of hands. I can help." The kid argued, his voice getting more heated.

"The best way to help is to stay here and out of the way. You'll be nothing but trouble."

"Trouble? Is that all you think of me as?" The kid ground out, his hands clenching into fists.

"Yes. You're a greenhorn, you know nothing of cattle. Your lack of knowledge could get you or someone else hurt. Or worse."

"So you're implying I'm worthless?"

Soul locked eyes and nodded. "Yep, that's about the size of it."

A hurt look passed over the kid's face. Soul instantly regretted his words, but it was too late to take them back. The kid was also making this more difficult than it should have been.

Men were starting to bunch around them, drawn by their angry tones and sharp words. The men were eager to watch this argument unfold.

Things were about to escalate, he needed to put an end to this conversation, quick.

Soul held his hands infront of him in a placating gesture.

"Calm down kid."

"Don't you dare tell me to calm down! I want to help. This is my home too, whether you like it or not Evans!"

"Really," he drawled in disgust, "Stein sweated his blood into this place to get us here today, and you've been here only a month. You ungrateful brat," Soul growled. "When Stein gets back he's going to expect the same from you, or he'll send you packing. Plain and simple."

"I suppose you'd be fine with that. If I was sent away you wouldn't have to bother with me anymore." The kid said bitterly.

"Yeah, I suppose so. It'd at least be peaceful again with you gone!" Soul yelled, getting too close to the kid's face.

The kids eyes flashed; maybe it was fear, or resentment, Soul couldn't tell. But the kid's hand shot out, striking him fast and hard across the face.