Author's Notes: This is a Western AU with a teenaged Fox who will 
eventually have some sort of parental relationship with Skinner. If 
this isn't your cup of tea, do not read on.

Category: PG-13, Discipline (not in this chapter yet, though)

Disclaimer: They're mine! All MINE!!! CC and consorts - eat your 
hearts out!!! Just kidding. No rights, no infringement, no money - but 
lotsa fun!

My addy is: gaby@gaby.slashcity.tv

My home is at: http://gaby.slashcity.tv

Summary: Fox gets into trouble for the first time...



INDEPENDENCE
by Gaby


Chapter 2: A Little Thief



Fox entered the corner shop slowly, carefully. The door was ajar, and 
he was able to squeeze his lean body inside without causing the bell 
that was connected to the door to jingle. He looked around with 
gleaming eyes. There were so many treats here!

The boy could hear the three adults in the back room. It seemed to him 
that the woman was making a big fuss about something, and from the 
sound of it, she seemed to think she was the boss. Fox shook his head 
in wonder. Women.

He looked around and saw several blankets neatly folded on a shelf. 
Grinning, he walked over and grabbed the blanket on top, unfolding it 
in the process. This way he could use the blanket as a makeshift bag. 
Fox cautiously walked behind the counter, always an eye and an ear 
towards the back room, hoping nobody would decide to come outside. He 
looked out of the window to make sure that nobody was going to come 
inside, either. Assured that he was safe for the moment, he turned 
back towards the food.

A loaf of bread, some jerky beef, a chunk of cheese, and some 
vegetables landed on the blanket that was sprawled on the floor next 
to Fox. He looked around, trying to find some cash, but didn't dare 
open the cash register. Maybe they had put something away in one of 
the drawers... Fox opened them cautiously one by one but didn't find 
any money. While rummaging through the third drawer he came across a 
pocket knife, though. Well, he did have a pocket, so he decided the 
knife was made for him. Besides, without his gun, he needed some kind 
of protection.

He turned back towards the shelves with the food and decided to take 
two cans of beans as well. Now, with the knife, he was able to open 
them. Fox looked at the treasure next to his feet and was suddenly 
very hungry. Before his growling stomach could alert the still arguing 
people in the next room, he bundled up the blanket and threw it over 
his shoulder. In a last moment decision, he stuck his hand inside one 
of the huge glass jars on top of the counter and grabbed a handful of 
jelly beans.

Fox made it outside just in time.

XXXXX

Bill was seething. He hated the shop, and now he was stuck here 
because of this stupid, bald-headed sheriff. He just didn't like being 
cooped up inside. He was more the outdoor kind of person but after his 
father's death he had to take care of the store. After all, his sister 
was only a woman and not able to manage a shop like this all by 
herself. If this damned sheriff hadn't intervened he would still be in 
the saloon now though, nursing his beer. Or giving this impish little 
scamp a thorough strapping. Bill stared after his sister and the 
sheriff as they left the shop, and sighed angrily.

Sheriff Skinner said good-bye to Miss Dana when they parted company a 
little way down Main Street. He was going back to his office while 
Dana was on her way to look after her mother. Skinner promised to drop 
by later. After all, he was very fond of Maggie Scully, and he always 
tried to make some time to say hello.

XXXXX

Back in his office, Sheriff Skinner perused the wanted posters and 
lost persons ads. The boy had to be from around here; he didn't seem 
to have a horse. And nobody in his right mind was walking around for 
miles on end in the middle of nowhere. Maybe he was a runaway from one 
of the more secluded ranches. Skinner still didn't know everyone that 
well. The townsfolk he was familiar with, but there were quite a few 
ranches scattered around Independence, and these people rarely came 
into town. A few times a year maybe. And Skinner had been living in 
Independence barely one year.

There were no boys missing, and apparently the little fella wasn't 
wanted for anything. Skinner chided himself again. Don't judge the 
book by the cover. The boy hadn't done anything wrong. And he had 
kicked you because he was scared. That was only natural. And he is 
entitled to carry a gun so that doesn't have to mean anything, either.

Skinner looked at the gun in question. It must have been quite old but 
it was still in very good shape. He was sure that it hit bull's eye 
easily. Somebody had cared for this thing. The boy was probably 
looking for the gun right now. Skinner shrugged. The little guy knew 
who he was, and everybody knew that a sheriff could easily be found in 
his office. It's only a matter of time until the fella showed up. And 
then he was going to answer some questions!

The sheriff sighed and glanced at the clock on the wall. He was bored, 
and decided to go and pay Maggie Scully that visit now. The boy had to 
wait.

XXXXX

Fox watched the sheriff leave the jail and walk down Main Street from 
his hiding place in the loft of the livery stable across the street. 
It had been too easy to hide up here, the boy thought. After sneaking 
out of the Scully corner shop he had decided to find a good place to 
keep an eye on the sheriff, and the stable was perfect. He had just 
walked inside, climbed the ladder to the loft and now lay cozily on 
fresh hay, looking out of the small window down towards the street, 
munching on a chunk of bread. Nobody had seen him hiding up here 
although it was still in the middle of the afternoon. Much too easy.

As soon as the sheriff was out of eyesight, Fox left the livery stable 
and sauntered over to the jail. He knew that there was nobody else 
inside. Well, maybe someone was locked up there but if there was, he 
still wouldn't have any problems. After all, what was a prisoner 
supposed to do? Squeeze through the bars and grab him?

Fox entered the sheriff's office and looked around. Nobody there. 
Good. He quickly walked over to the desk and looked for this gun in 
the drawers. Nothing. He searched the small cabinet. Nothing. Fox grew 
anxious. He hadn't seen the sheriff carrying his gun when he left his 
office so it still had to be here. Fox searched frantically for 
several minutes but couldn't find anything. He even picked the lock to 
the gun rack but even after he swung open the double doors to reveal a 
row of rifles and several smaller weapons he still didn't find his own 
gun. Resisting the urge to grab one of the weapons on display, he 
closed the doors again and walked out. There was only one explanation; 
the sheriff must have left the gun at the shop.

XXXXX

Sheriff Skinner sat in Maggie Scully's family room, devouring 
home-made cookies and the best coffee this side of the Mississippi. 
Dana had fussed over her mother and had demanded she'd stay in bed but 
Maggie had just laughed and declared that she had had enough bed rest 
to last two lifetimes. Besides, it was impolite to not entertain 
guests, and it was improper for Skinner to sit at Maggie's bedside.

Dana smiled broadly when she saw Skinner reaching out of yet another 
cookie. "They are delicious! I will put on too much weight and won't 
be able to catch any bad guys if you don't stop stuffing me with these 
cookies!" Skinner tried to give the ladies a stern glare but was 
rewarded with a round of laughter.

"Nobody forces these cookies into you, Walter," Maggie admonished.

"Yes, ma'am," he conceded, and grinned at her. When he had first 
arrived in Independence he had lived in Maggie's boarding house. Now 
he lived in a small cabin just outside of town but back then it had 
been the perfect solution. He adored the Scully women, and he sort of 
got along with Bill, and Maggie needed the extra money after her 
husband had died. Now Maggie didn't entertain house guests anymore; 
she was too ill to properly take care of them. Skinner fondly thought 
back of the times he had spent in front of the fire place, talking 
about anything and everything with Maggie. She had had a soft spot for 
him immediately and had welcomed him with open arms, almost treating 
him like a son.

Suddenly he thought of the boy, and looked up at Maggie. She wasn't 
one to spread rumors but she usually was up-to-date on everything new, 
truth or lie, receiving information through an intricate net of 
communication that Skinner yet had to decipher. "Say, Maggie, do you 
know anything about new folks around here? Settling down or just 
passing through?"

Maggie shook her head, surprised. "No, Walter. Why?"

"Well, I had a little run-in with a boy today..." Skinner began, but 
was interrupted by Dana.

"Actually, *Bill* was the one who had the run-in. The sheriff came to 
the rescue in the nick of time. The poor boy would probably nurse a 
few broken ribs by now..."

Skinner hesitated. Poor boy, my foot! The little scoundrel wasn't some 
innocent angel; he just had that nagging feeling about the boy. Still, 
Bill would have really harmed the boy, but Maggie didn't need to know 
this. He opened his mouth to say something distracting but Maggie was 
faster.

"I'm really sorry about that. We didn't bring Bill up to be like this. 
But ever since his father..." She took a deep breath, trying to calm 
herself. After a moment she was able to go on. "After his father's 
death, things just went downhill a bit. I don't condone the way he 
acts, Walter, you must believe me!"

Skinner nodded and patted Maggie's hand reassuringly. "I know, I know. 
It's not your fault. And don't worry, nothing happened. The boy is 
fine. *I'm* the one who's worse for wear, actually. The little rascal 
kicked me!" He tried to look hurt, tried to coax the ladies into 
showing some compassion, but they merely started to laugh heartily. 
Skinner's face fell momentarily. "Womenfolk!" He shook his head. "And 
you seriously expect me to come to the rescue when something bad is 
happening?" he asked with a mocking gleam in his eyes.

Dana sat up in her chair and looked at the sheriff solemnly. "I'm sure 
you'll safe us, no matter what wicked things might come our way. I 
have complete and total trust in you."

Skinner nodded his thanks in mock seriousness. Then Maggie chimed in. 
"That is, of course, only as long as there is no kicking involved." 
The ladies started laughing again while Skinner put his head into his 
hands, moaning.

XXXXX

Bill was bored out of his mind. At that time of day nothing was 
happening, anyway. The shop could be closed, it wouldn't make any 
difference. Why should he be standing here, idling his time away when 
he could be doing more productive things - like drinking a beer or 
two? Bill was sure that his sister wouldn't be back for quite a while, 
and he had seen the sheriff on his way to Maggie's house not long ago. 
And once that guy got comfy there...

Making up his mind, Bill wrote a quick "I'll be back in 30 minutes" 
note to hang on the door before leaving the store. Knowing full well 
that it would take longer than just half an hour...

XXXXX

Fox was just on his way back to the livery stable. He had been 
sneaking around the shop, looking for the back door, trying to find 
any weaknesses that enabled him to break in at night. He wasn't sure 
he'd be able to get in and out without being noticed but he'd be 
damned if he didn't at least try! He wanted his gun, and he wanted it 
now!

Suddenly he saw Bill crossing the street. Luck of the draw - he would 
be able to walk in and out right now! No waiting until late at night! 
Fox inched his way towards the shop and was surprised to find the door 
unlocked. He entered and started his systematic search in the back 
room where he had heard the adults arguing before.

Fox didn't find his gun. He did find the rest of the apple pie instead 
and sat down to eat a slice. He just couldn't resist. And he couldn't 
resist the second slice, either. Not only did this pie look and smell 
good, it tasted delicious! Fox thought he'd died and gone to heaven.

Then he heard the front door. Someone was coming! Fox looked around 
frantically, trying to find some place to hide but it was too late. 
Bill stood in the door frame and glowered at the skinny boy sitting at 
the table, swallowing nervously.

Actually, he had just realized that he had forgotten to take any cash. 
As of lately, Bill had to actually pay for his beer. Maybe because he 
was drinking so much of it. He didn't know the reason, and he didn't 
really care. In any case, he just wanted to grab some cash out of the 
register when he had heard some noise in the back room, so he went to 
investigate. The little imp! Bill grinned evilly.

Fox tried to run past the big man but Bill grabbed him around the 
waist and threw him backwards. While Fox was still struggling to get 
back on his feet, Bill grabbed him under his arms and pinned him 
against the wall, high enough so that Fox was hanging in mid-air. The 
boy yelped helplessly and struggled but Bill was stronger.

"Now we'll continue our little chit chat, brat. Let's see how strong 
you are..."

Fox wriggled wildly but to no avail. "Let me go!" he yelled at the top 
of his lungs, scared out of his mind. Bill just shook him once which 
caused the pants to slide down to mid-thigh. The big man grinned 
evilly at the boy. Fox struggled harder, now also trying to grab his 
pants to pull them back up but it was just no good. Running out of 
options, he began yelling again. And it worked.

"Bill? Bill, is something wrong?" Bill groaned when he heard the 
sheriff's voice. He gave the boy a violent shake to make him pay for 
yelling loud enough to alert Skinner who had been walking by and heard 
him from outside. The shake caused the pants to slide down all the way 
to Fox's feet. The knife fell out of his pocket just as Skinner 
entered the back room to take in the situation.

Bill looked at the pocket knife and let go of the boy who fell down 
heavily. Fox struggled to his feet as fast as he could, trying to pull 
up his pants in the process. He looked at Skinner nervously, scanning 
him for the gun. Nope, not there. He then glanced at the knife in 
Bill's hands and swallowed nervously.

"Sheriff, I want you to take this boy and arrest him. Not only did he 
break into my shop, he also stole my property!"

Skinner sighed and held out his hand. Bill gave him the knife which 
the sheriff then waved in front of Fox. "Did you steal this?" Fox 
hesitated, then looked down. After a few seconds, he nodded a little.

"I only did it because you stole my gun! You had no right to take my 
gun away from me! It's mine!" Fox shot Bill an angry glare. "And since 
*he* took it away first, it's only fair that I get to keep something 
that belongs to *him*. Besides, I need it for protection!" The boy 
stuck his chin out defiantly. So there.

"You know, young man, sometimes it is wiser to keep one's mouth shut," 
Skinner advised.

"And I didn't break in, either. The door wasn't locked!"

Bill lunged forward but was stopped by Skinner. "Let me handle this, 
Bill. Please." Bill scowled at the sheriff before turning his back on 
him to drive his point home. Skinner turned back to the boy. "And why 
did you come here? Were you perhaps going to give the knife back?" 
Please take the offer. Please. I gave you one hell of an opening, boy, 
use it!

"I was looking for my gun. And I don't steal more than I absolutely 
need. Only the bare necessities. They have more than enough." The boy 
pouted and crossed his arms defiantly.

Bill gave a yell of victory. "See, Sheriff? He admitted it himself! He 
stole! Arrest him and let him rot in jail! Useless piece of-"

"Bill! It's quite enough!" Skinner gave the other man a very stern 
look, and after a second or two, Bill gave in. Skinner turned his 
attention back to Fox. "Listen, my boy..."

"I am *not* a boy!"

"Well, what is your name, then, son?"

"And I'm not your son, either! My name is Fox."

Bill started to laugh out loud. "'Fox'? That sounds like an Indian 
name!"

Fox looked at the big man arrogantly and raised his chin. "It is. And 
I am proud of it."

Skinner shook his head. Wouldn't this kid ever stop? "Look, kid, if 
you don't give me your real name..."

"Fox *is* my real name!" The boy looked into Skinner's eyes, and 
swallowed. This man was scary. Much scarier than that big oaf Bill. 
Fox hung his head and decided the road of least resistance might be 
the best one. "My birth name is William," he murmured.

Skinner nodded in appreciation. "There you go. That wasn't so hard, 
was it, William?"

Bill snorted. "Come on, Walt, you don't seriously believe his name is 
William? He just picked up that *my* name is William and now he uses 
it to make you look like an idiot!"

Skinner gave Bill a cold stare before he turned to Fox. "I think the 
two of us need to have a little talk, *William*," he said to the boy. 
Fox nodded slightly. There was no way he could get out of the room 
anyway - the sheriff stood smack in the middle of the doorway, and he 
was still angry about that kicking incident earlier, Fox could tell. 
He was busted, plain and simple.

The sheriff gave Bill the knife back before placing his big right hand 
on Fox's neck and shoulder, guiding him outside and towards the jail 
without another word to the other man.

XXXXX

"Where are we going?" Fox asked anxiously, even though he had a pretty 
good idea of where they were heading. Skinner chuckled under his 
breath, remembering what the boy had said earlier.

"We're on our way to the retirement home, William," he answered while 
his thumb stroked the back of Fox's neck gently, reassuringly.

The boy gave him a dirty look which quickly changed into a scared one 
when the sheriff squeezed Fox's neck slightly. "No more games, little 
rascal," he warned.

The rest of their way was spent in silence. When they arrived at the 
sheriff's office, Skinner gave Fox a gentle push inside before locking 
the door. "Cell," was the only thing he said, nodding his head in the 
general direction of the jail. Fox swallowed convulsively, now 
seriously scared, and weighed his options. Seeing no immediate way out 
of his predicament, he obeyed and entered the first cell, sitting down 
on the cot. Skinner joined him after a minute.

"So, tell me...what are you doing here?"

"I'm being held prisoner for nothing," the boy spat out. Skinner shook 
his head, amused. The little fella sure had an attitude.

"Seriously. Where are you from? Where are your folks? Did you run 
away, maybe?"

"No!" The sheriff was taken aback by the sheer vehemence behind those 
words, and he gently patted the boy's knee.

"It's okay, it's all right. But look, you're not from here. You don't 
seem to have a horse, or anything else for that matter...something 
must've happened..."

Fox sighed. "I did have a horse," he said slowly, knowing full well 
that the sheriff heard the lie in his voice. "I was robbed. I don't 
have anything anymore. Except my gun. Which now I don't have anymore, 
either," he added, bitterly. Skinner ignored him.

"And what were you doing out there, all alone?"

"It's none of your business!"

"William!"

"And my name is Fox!"

Skinner took a calming breath. "What were you doing out there, all 
alone, William?"

Fox stared at the sheriff mutinously, then sighed dramatically. "I'm 
looking for my sister."

"Your sister? Seriously. How old are you?" he asked the boy gently.

"I'm eighteen."

Skinner laughed. "Not in this lifetime, boy. You're twelve, if that!"

Fox sighed again and hung his head. "I'm fifteen..."

"Thirteen, little rascal. Fourteen, tops. Now, be honest with me!"

"I don't really know." Fox looked up to see the doubt in Skinner's 
face. "I really don't," he said emphatically. "But I guess it's 
somewhere along that fourteen or fifteen line..."

"Or thirteen, eh?"

"Yeah, whatever..." Fox mumbled sullenly, looking down at his hands 
which he was wringing nervously. Skinner sighed.

"Didn't your parents teach you any manners, rascal? Ever heard of 
showing some respect?" The sheriff was totally taken by surprise when 
he had a wildcat hissing at him. Fox jumped up and stood in front of 
Skinner, yelling at him with a face that was slowly turning red with 
rage.

"I was brought up perfectly! Don't *ever* question my upbringing, do 
you hear me? And I do show respect! I have respect for things that 
deserve it!"

Skinner decided to let the show of attitude pass for the moment. 
"'Things'? What things, my boy?"

"Like nature. Or animals." Fox rolled his eyes as if he wanted to show 
Skinner just how dense he thought the man truly was.

"And what about people?"

"Those who have proven themselves to be worthy of my respect, have it. 
It has to be earned."

Skinner raised an eyebrow. "Oh. I was under the impression that it is 
a proof of good upbringing when one shows respect towards others. Like 
adults. Especially law officers." The sheriff smiled a little, trying 
to show the boy that he wasn't really angry with him. Fox didn't care.

"I told you to shut up about my upbringing! You have no right 
whatsoever to-"

"Okay, that's it, little rascal! I was trying to be reasonable with 
you. But it's obvious that there is no way that you are going to 
cooperate. So, this is what we will do: You will have to be punished 
for stealing and breaking into that store." Skinner grabbed the boy 
and bodily sat him back down on the cot, taking a closer look at the 
bad fitting clothes in the process. "I take it you also stole those?" 
Fox hung his head, which was all Skinner needed to know. "Well, not 
only are you going to be punished for breaking the law, you will also 
pay for what you stole, and you will give everything back to the 
rightful owner. Personally, with a heartfelt apology." Fox's head 
snapped up, and he stared at the sheriff wide-eyed. He didn't dare 
make a smart reply, though. "Since I suspect that you don't have any 
means to pay for these things, you will have to work off your debt. To 
do that, you will have to be released from prison." Fox looked 
relieved at that little bit of news. He hated being inside. He 
couldn't stay locked up here like this. "However, to make sure that 
you stay out of trouble I will take care of you. Personally." Fox's 
heart sunk. "We'll see how much I can straighten you and your attitude 
out, and re-evaluate our little agreement after a couple of months." 
Months? Fox stared at Skinner who shook his head, smiling. "Don't give 
me this look, little rascal. You should be grateful that I am so 
lenient with you." Lenient? Fox couldn't see anything lenient about 
this 'agreement' Skinner was talking about. However, running away 
while being locked up in prison was a rather difficult task to 
accomplish, and the man still had his gun. The boy hung his head again 
and nodded a little.

Skinner got up and walked out, locking the cell door behind him. "Very 
good," he said cheerfully. "You'll stay here overnight. Tomorrow you 
will move in with me." Fox's head snapped up again. What??? Skinner 
grinned broadly, daring him to argue. After a moment, Fox looked back 
down and nodded slightly. "Oh, and one more thing, rascal..." Fox 
looked up in trepidation. "The proper response is 'yes, sir' but we 
will work on the finer aspects of our agreement later on..." Chuckling 
to himself, Skinner left the room. He could hear Fox groaning.

This is going to be fun, he thought as he sat down at his desk, 
pulling out the boy's gun from the back of his pants where it had been 
hidden by his vest, and staring at it for a long moment. Bill will be 
so ticked off! Skinner grinned evilly. Yup. Fun indeed.



THE END OF CHAPTER 2.


Feedback always welcomed! Send it to Gaby!