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 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 meets some new friends... INDEPENDENCE by Gaby Chapter 4: New Friends Sheriff Skinner planted his big right hand on the boy's right shoulder again, squeezing it gently. That earned him a glare from Fox but he let it pass without comment. Heck, his little rascal was mercurial! The big man thought back to how Fox had acted only a few minutes earlier, and shook his head in amazement. XXXXX Fox had been running up and down the grassy hill behind the sheriff's cabin, resembling a wild horse finally set free again. He was close to being...happy. Nature really seemed to do it for the boy, and Skinner suddenly thanked the Lord above that his cabin had been built outside of Independence. He preferred the dark nights under millions of stars to the bright lights of the town, as well, but the boy apparently needed nature to blossom. The sheriff was thankful for small favors. He let the boy explore his surroundings for a good half hour, keeping his distance, merely keeping an eye on Fox. It was like watching wild life - making sure not to disturb or even scare the skittish animals. Maybe this strange 'Fox' name was appropriate, after all, he mused. It was a treat to watch the boy, though. He could almost see how Fox memorized every rock and bush, making a mental map of the grounds. And then he discovered the lake. Skinner ran up to the boy when he realized that Fox was about to explore the lake more thoroughly, calling him back. Fox turned to him with a small smile on his face that melted the big man's heart. "Are there any fish in here?" the boy asked him, almost excited. Skinner weighed his options carefully. "Well, yes. But they are difficult to catch so don't hold your breath," he answered cautiously, remembering entire afternoons spent with a rod in his hand, and walking back to his cabin after dusk without so much as one tiny fish to cook. Fox shrugged. "You just have to know how." Skinner saw a way of giving the boy something to do, so he smiled at him. "Well, why don't you try to catch dinner for us one of these days?" The boy's face fell instantly, and the sheriff wondered what he had done wrong. But apparently it was just Fox realizing that he had let his guard down. He shrugged, then turned around to walk along the lake shore. Skinner left him alone for a few more minutes before dragging him away almost bodily. They had business to conduct in town, and he wasn't going to let the boy idle away their entire day. Fox didn't want to leave the lake but climbed the hill willingly, and followed the sheriff down the other side, passing the cabin, and heading towards town. Just as soon as they set foot onto Main Street, his entire demeanor changed, and he fell into a pouting sulk. That was when Skinner decided that a hand placed firmly on the boy's shoulder might be in order. As a precaution. One never knew. XXXXX The boy was trying to figure out where they were heading, hoping against hope that Evil Bill wasn't part of the sheriff's plans. He saw the corner shop ahead, and was relieved that they were walking down the other side of Main Street. Still, he kept his eyes trained on the store's door, determined to will Evil Bill away by sheer force of thinking. Just don't show any fear. He was sure Evil Bill was able to smell his fear. Skinner watched Fox out of the corner of his eyes, and smiled inwardly. The boy might be disrespectful and bratty, but he sure knew who was a potential threat to him. Good. This is important for survival in the wilderness, and whatever had happened to the boy before, the sheriff surmised that he had had his share of dangerous, maybe even life threatening, situations to deal with. When he realized that Fox was actually leaning forward to get a better look at the closed shop door, he decided that reassurance was in order. He gently stroked the back of the boy's neck once again with his thumb and mumbled, "Don't worry, we're not on our way to Bill, Rascal." Fox straightened, and turned around to glare at Skinner angrily. "I'm not worried," he declared indignantly. "I'm not afraid of Bill. Or anybody else," he added, with a poignant look at the sheriff. The big man grinned to himself. What a feisty little rascal he had caught. "Good," was all he said, though, and directed the boy towards the saloon. When Fox realized where they were going, he looked up again. "You thirsty? Sure the townsfolk don't mind a drunken sheriff?" Skinner scowled. "First of all, I'm not thirsty, and we're not going there so I can have a drink. Secondly, watch your mouth, Rascal, because I will *not* remind you about my policy of action and reaction." He gave the boy a hard look, and shook him slightly. "Don't call me 'Rascal', dammit! That's *not* my name!" The sheriff sighed inwardly, and squeezed the boy's neck warningly. "I'm not going to warn you again. Apparently you're asking for it. Well, just wait until we're back in my cabin, boy, and you'll see what a smart mouth gets you." Skinner looked down at the boy, hoping that the warning had any impact on him, but of course he was wrong. Fox just glared at him angrily, obviously about to throw a tantrum for being called 'boy' again. The sheriff sighed again, and shoved Fox through the saloon's double doors. "William," he added as an after-thought, in a voice that brooked no further argument. The boy shot him another deadly glare before stumbling inside the empty saloon. XXXXX Skinner greeted the bartender who looked up from cleaning some glasses in surprise. "Hello, Pete. How are you today?" "Can't complain, Walt. What about you?" Pete looked at the boy who stood uncertainly in the middle of the saloon. "Well, well, well. If this isn't the tough guy." He smiled at Fox who stared at him angrily. The sheriff planted his big hand on Fox's shoulder and led him closer to Pete. "This young man is here to apologize for his behavior yesterday." Fox swiveled around and gaped at Skinner open-mouthed. The big man stared him squarely in the eyes while he hissed, "Yes, he is." The boy swallowed slowly, and Skinner could see the little wheels in his brain turning again, trying to find a way out of his predicament. The sheriff turned Fox around to face Pete who was leaning against the counter, trying hard to keep a straight face. Fox hung his head dejectedly, and Skinner slowly lifted his hand from the boy's shoulder when he felt the fight leaving the small body. There was silence for about a minute. Finally, Skinner grew impatient and gave Fox a gentle shove. "And now you say you're sorry, William," he prompted the boy. Fox didn't miss a beat. Without looking up, he muttered, "you're sorry, William," before turning on his heel and bolting to the doors. Pete had to bite down hard on his tongue to keep from laughing out loud, and Skinner sighed unnerved. He only needed two quick strides with his long legs to catch up with the boy and, reaching out with one hand, he caught the rope that the boy used as a make-shift belt. He tugged at it, and suddenly held the freely swinging rope in his hand. The material had been thin and bristled to begin with, and had practically fallen apart after one swift yank. While Skinner looked at the rope in his hand with a sense of bewilderment, Fox was still in full bout, until the pants slit down his skinny legs, tripping him. He was on his way to fall down face first when he felt a strong arm curling around his waist, saving him. He was bodily lifted, with his pants pooling around his ankles, and carried back to stand in front of Pete who was still fighting to keep a straight face. The sheriff put him down, and Fox bent over to retrieve his pants. Skinner grabbed the boy's shirt collar and yanked him back up. "No," he said adamantly. "First you will apologize." He shook the boy slightly, and Fox shot daggers at him. "Rascal," Skinner added warningly, but Fox had worked himself up into a frenzy and opened his mouth to start an angry rant. Before he was able to say one word, Skinner let go of the collar and delivered a stinging swat on the unprotected butt. Since Fox was only wearing his long-johns, the slap was sharper than the two he had received before, and he looked at the sheriff with a mixture of hurt pride, indignation, and a little respect. His eyes started to tear up, so he dropped his gaze quickly. Taking a deep breath, calming himself, he quickly looked up at Pete and mumbled, "I'm sorry for the way I acted yesterday." Then he stared at the floor again. Skinner waited another moment or two, but nothing else was forthcoming. Well, that wasn't really the kind of apology he had been hoping for but it was better than nothing, so he tenderly ruffled the boy's abundant hair and whispered, "It's okay, Rascal. You've done well. Go on and get dressed." Fox pulled his wide pants up immediately, thankful that he was able to regain at least a little of his dignity. The sheriff fought a quick internal battle with himself before trusting his instincts and telling the boy, "You can go if you want to. But you have to wait outside for me. Is that understood, Rascal? You will wait outside for me." The boy looked at him wide-eyed, obviously surprised by the level of trust the big man showed. "Promise me that you will wait outside for me, Rascal," Skinner said, grabbing the boy's shoulder to keep him from running through the doors. "I will wait outside for you," Fox said softly. Skinner looked into the boy's hazel eyes for a long moment before he decided to take his chances. He nodded and gave the boy a gentle shove. Fox grabbed his pants tightly and ran outside. As soon as they were alone, Pete started to laugh. "What was that all about, Walt?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Skinner sighed. "I have no idea who this little guy is, or where he's from. He refuses to tell me anything, except that his name is 'Fox' and that his parents are dead. Oh, and he's looking for his sister." He shrugged. "There must be more to his story and I've decided to get to the bottom of it all in time. Besides, he has stolen some things and needs to be punished for that. I just thought that jail time isn't the right thing for a boy." "So you've decided to take him on instead," Pete guessed with a broad grin. Skinner nodded. The bartender shook his head in wonder. "You are too good for this world, Walt. This boy is a handful. He is trouble waiting to happen." Pete thought about the situation for a moment. "Look, I'm sorry about what happened yesterday. Bill was just too drunk. The boy shouldn't pay for something that is Bill's fault." Skinner nodded. "Besides, somehow I like the boy. He's got spirit. So, if you need my help, just lemme know, alright?" Skinner smiled happily. The boy needed every friend he could get. And Pete was a good man. "Thank you, Pete. I'd appreciate it if you kept your ears open. You know, ask a question or two when a stranger passes through town. Maybe somebody knows something about a missing boy. Or a girl." Pete nodded. "Will do, Walt. And don't be too hard on the boy, okay?" The bartender winked at the sheriff who snorted. "Believe me, Pete, I've been entirely too easy on him until now. But that'll change." He gave Pete one last smile before leaving the saloon. XXXXX Sheriff Skinner stepped outside, fully expecting the boy to wait for him in front of the saloon. He was disappointed. Frowning, the big man looked up and down the sidewalk, searching Fox, thinking he might be leaning against a wall. Nothing. Fighting down a surge of panic, clutching his fists angrily, he strained his eyes, willing the boy to appear before him. He thought about possible hiding places the boy could have used, good men he might round up to help him look for Fox...when his gaze fell upon a small figure on the other side of Main Street, standing in front of the town's gun shop, staring at the display in the window. Skinner sighed in relief and crossed the street. Fox had his nose and his right hand pressed against the window, while his left hand clutched his pants to prevent them from sliding down his legs, admiring the displayed guns, rifles, and knives with utter amazement. He started when he felt a big hand coming to rest on his right shoulder, and he turned around to look into two angry brown eyes. "What did I tell you, Rascal?" "You said 'wait for me outside' and I waited for you. Outside." The boy cocked his head, blinking curiously. "Did I do something wrong?" Skinner stared at the boy unbelievingly for a moment, then he realized that it had been his fault, and he laughed out loud. Making a fuss about the whole thing seemed ridiculous, now that the boy was found. Not that he had been lost in the first place. Fox looked at the big man worried, not understanding what was so funny, and Skinner wrapped his arms around the small teenager, utterly happy that he hadn't run away. "No, you didn't do anything wrong, Rascal. It's okay. I should've been more specific, I guess." He released the boy when he felt the stiffness and reluctance in the small body, planting his right hand on the shoulder again. "Come on. I think we need to take care of some urgent matters before we go anywhere else." The boy gave the big man a skeptical look but fell into step with the sheriff who walked further down Main Street. XXXXX "Well, hello, Sheriff! What a pleasant surprise! What can I do for you today?" Fox eyed the elderly man suspiciously, and took a tentative step backwards when the man approached him. He burrowed himself into Skinner's broad chest and swallowed. The sheriff squeezed his shoulder reassuringly before turning to the man. "Hello Mr. Richards. Actually, it's not what you can do for me, but what you can do for him," Skinner said, nodding at the boy in front of him. The other man looked at Fox and smiled. "Well, how do you do, young man? I'm sure we can find something suitable for you. If you would follow me, please?" Mr. Richards gave Fox another smile before turning around and walking to the back of the store. Fox turned around to look at Skinner uncertainly but the big man gave him a reassuring smile and pushed him in Mr. Richards' direction. "Go on, Rascal. He won't bite. And you do need new clothes." The boy gave Skinner one last glare, then walked to the other man reluctantly. Mr. Richards selected a pair of blue jeans after taking a close look at the slender figure and gave them to Fox. "Try these on," he said and showed Fox the corner where he could change in private. The boy looked at both men again, still reluctant, but obeyed in the end. As soon as Fox had closed the curtain, Skinner turned to the other man. "We will need another pair of trousers, some long-johns, shirts, socks. Maybe a vest, as well." He paused shortly. "What about night shirts?" he asked, and Mr. Richards smiled. "Where did you pick up the young lad, Sheriff?" he asked while selecting the clothing. Skinner didn't want to go into detail, so he merely mumbled something about picking up a stray. "Let's just say that I think he'll be staying with me for some time, and I want him to have some decent clothes to wear." The other man nodded wisely. "Good thinking, Sheriff." At that moment Fox emerged, looking at Skinner uncertainly. The big man smiled broadly. "Well, how about that? Fitting clothes! Wonderful! Mr. Richards, we'll take these, and the rest as well," he nodded towards the stack of clothing waiting on the counter, "as soon as we've made sure that it all fits." Skinner watched the boy more closely. His body seemed even more slender in those jeans, and he decided to fatten him up a little. Mr. Richards gave Fox the wool trousers, a new cotton shirt, long-johns, a pair of socks, and slapped suspenders on top of the stack. The boy looked at him wide-eyed. "You'll try all of these on, Rascal, and if they fit you can keep them on right away. Go on now. We don't have all day." "These pants are itchy," Fox protested, feeling the scratchy wool on his bare forearms. The sheriff looked at him sternly. "Since you will be wearing long-johns underneath, you won't feel them. You need warm clothing soon. It's fall already. Now move!" Fox started but turned around and went back behind the curtain. Skinner shook his head and sighed. "As soon as you're out of your old clothing, hand it over, boy." A second later, the ill fitting trousers were thrown into the shop. Closely followed by the too big shirt. Then the long-johns. Every piece of flying clothing was accompanied by a dramatic, heart-felt sigh. Mr. Richards smile, and winked at Skinner. "A wild stray, I presume," he commented. Skinner only rolled his eyes. The other man put the old clothing in a bag and held it out towards Skinner. "Could we pick this up later today? We've got some other things to take care of first and I don't necessarily want to run around packed like a mule." "Certainly. Just drop by anytime you want." The sheriff walked over to the curtain. "So, tell me, Rascal, where did you find those clothes?" When no answer was forthcoming, he repeated warningly, "Rascal?" "It was some ranch," came the sullen reply. "Well, what kind of ranch? Where? I already told you that you would give everything back, in person, with an apology." "I dunno where. It was a big ranch. Out North somewhere." Skinner was able to hear the full pout and sighed. "You're not helping yourself, Rascal," he warned. "Whatever." The sheriff took a deep breath, willing himself to stay calm. A minute later Fox emerged, clad in fitting clothes, suspenders in hand. "What am I supposed to do with this?" he asked, holding them up in front of Skinner. "Those are suspenders. You use them to keep the pants in place." Fox gave him a blank look. "Why? The pants do stay in place. See?" He danced around a little to prove his point. "If I have to use these, then I can keep my old pants," he pointed out. Skinner fought hard not to laugh. "Well, first of all, those aren't *your* pants, Rascal." Fox scowled at him. "And secondly, you'll wear them because I tell you to." He gave the boy a stern look and, after a second, Fox relented. Still, he looked forlornly at the torture implements. "You don't know how they work, hmm?" Skinner asked gently and took the suspenders from the boy's hand when Fox slowly shook his head. "I'm surprised you've never seen suspenders before," he observed. "We didn't have anything like this where I come from," the boy responded quietly. Skinner blinked at that, confused. Then he shook himself mentally and crouched down to fasten the suspenders. As soon as he had finished Fox stretched and twisted, then made a face. "They are horrible. I don't want to wear them. I don't need them, anyway. They tie me down!" The sheriff looked at him reprovingly and shook his head. "You *will* wear them because I say so. End of discussion. Now get your boots." Fox stomped back behind the curtain while Skinner turned to the other man. "We'll take everything. You know the right size. Could you wrap it all up so we can pick it up later?" After receiving an affirmative nod, he turned back to Fox who walked up to him, sulking. "Ready?" he asked jovially. Fox shrugged and walked past the sheriff without even looking at him. He slammed the door on his way out but decided to wait in front of the store, remembering Skinner's reaction when he had not been where he was supposed to be after apologizing to that stupid Pete person. Skinner watched the boy through the shop's window and sighed. He turned around when he heard a small chuckle behind him and he looked into amused eyes. "Yeah, I know," he sighed. "A wild stray." XXXXX The sheriff left the shop and walked down Main Street once again, giving Fox a light swat on his butt as he passed the boy, indicating him to join him. When he realized that Fox wasn't following him, he turned around and looked at him sternly, hands on his hips. "Get moving, Rascal, we have a busy day!" The boy scowled at the big man but decided it was wiser to obey. For now. He walked alongside the sheriff, sulking. It took Skinner some time but he finally found out which ranch the boy had stolen from. According to the boy's description of the place, it could only be Twin Pines, a huge ranch that belonged to a mean old man called Spender. The sheriff sighed inwardly; of all the ranches the boy could've chosen he picked the one that would probably cause him the most trouble. Still, he was adamant about his return policy, and told Fox in no uncertain terms that he would take him to Spender's ranch soon, and the boy should start rehearsing his apologies. Fox sighed deeply and hung his head. "Where did you get your boots, boy? I assume they aren't from that ranch, as well?" Fox shook his head. "I...found them somewhere else," he whispered. He felt Skinner's large hand descend in that now familiar spot, knowing full well that the big man was prompting him to elaborate on that statement. After a moment, he continued, "I was passing through this town about two days away, and I really needed some new boots...and I saw them in that store...I just had to take them!" Fox turned desperate eyes towards Skinner, pleading with them. "I really don't like to steal, you have to believe me! I only take what is absolutely necessary! And I didn't have anything I could give in return! I'm sorry, I really am, but I had to!" Skinner stopped, seeing how agitated the boy was. He stroked his hair gently. "It's okay, Rascal. We'll ride back and I'll pay for those boots. I doubt they would want them back now, anyway, and you need a pair, so that'll be the best solution. You'll just work off your debt while you're staying with me. Okay?" He tenderly stroked the side of Fox's face, but the boy pulled back. "Do I have a choice?" he asked bitterly. "Not really." Skinner gave him a rueful smile. "But it's the best deal I can offer you." He looked at the boy calmly and Fox nodded, after a moment. They resumed walking, with Fox making a big fuss about showing just how uncomfortable those suspenders were. He didn't realize that this amused the hell out of Skinner who, when he had finally had enough, simply grabbed the part of the suspenders that was stretching over the boy's back, yanking it away from his body. Fox gasped when he felt the pants tighten around his waist and legs, and he shot an angry glare in Skinner's direction. The big man just looked back calmly, with one slightly raised eyebrow, the perfect picture of innocence. Fox realized that he had no chance against the man and hung his head, resigned. Skinner laughed, ruffled the boy's long hair again before planting his hand back on Fox's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "Are we going to pick up your horse now?" the boy asked a minute or so later, biting his own lip when he realized that he might have revealed too much about himself and his wishes. Skinner didn't seem to notice, though. Or he didn't let it show. "No, Rascal. We're visiting that old friend I was telling you about. The one who lent us her furniture for you." "Oh great," Fox muttered and was rewarded by another pull on those damned suspenders. "I expect you to prove to me that you actually *can* behave if you have to. Let me give you an advanced warning here. You are already in trouble for what you pulled yesterday and today and we will be dealing with your transgressions tonight at home, but it's up to you how much more punishment you'll earn. Do you understand me?" Fox stared at Skinner wide-eyed, suddenly realizing what the sheriff was implying. Punishment? His right hand slowly reached behind, rubbing his butt, and Skinner smiled a little. "Exactly," he said and nodded. The boy swallowed nervously and might have tried to run if Skinner hadn't turned them towards the entrance of a simple, but well cared for house, knocking at the door. A second later, the door was opened. "Hello, Sheriff! Good to see you again!" The freckled face broke into a huge smile and Skinner grinned back, taking his right hand away from Fox's shoulder to grab the small hand and give it a kiss. "Hello, Miss Dana. How are you today?" She beamed at him, then turned towards the boy. "Hello there. My name is Dana. And who would you be?" Fox stared at her mesmerized. Miss Dana was only slightly taller than he was and he had never seen anybody that beautiful, so he reached out slowly, touching her long, red hair reverently. She smiled and allowed the boy his explorations, with Skinner watching with a mixture of amusement and a little jealousy. Then, without warning, Fox yanked heartily at Miss Dana's hair, making her yell out loud. Skinner slapped the boy's butt sharply. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Rascal?" Skinner realized what he had just said and turned quickly to the woman. "Oh, I'm sorry for swearing, Miss Dana. I apologize." As soon as he received a nod of understanding, he turned back towards Fox who looked at him wide-eyed. "Well? Do you have anything to say for yourself, boy?" Fox didn't know what he had done wrong and he looked at Skinner confused. "I thought this was some kind of adornment. I've never seen red hair before." Both adults stared at him wide-eyed but it was obvious that the boy was telling the truth. "Well, no harm done," Miss Dana said, smoothing down her hair. She stepped aside to let the guests in and Skinner pushed Fox inside. The boy stumbled forward reluctantly and jumped when he heard the sheriff's voice whispering close to his ear. "You will apologize to Miss Dana, Rascal. Your behavior just now was unacceptable." Fox sighed, but remembered Skinner's warning about the punishment so he turned to the pretty redhead. "I'm sorry," he murmured unconvincingly. After all, it wasn't his fault that she looked like this! And who would've guessed that this was her real hair! He trailed his boot on the floor, wishing he was someplace else. Far away, if possible. "It's okay. As I said, no harm done." Miss Dana gave the boy a warm smile and he smiled back hesitantly. "So, what is your name, young man?" "I'm Fox," he answered. "His name is William," Skinner corrected, and Fox sighed dramatically. Miss Dana looked from Fox to Skinner and back, weighing her options. Since 'William' seemed more appropriate, she decided to go with that name and she smiled at the boy again. "William, hmm? Well, my brother's name is also William!" Fox's mouth dropped open and he stared at Miss Dana in disbelief. Then he recognized her voice as being the same one he had heard only a day earlier, in an agitated shouting match with Evil Bill. He swallowed. "Your...your brother is...is..." He shook his head in denial. This just wasn't possible! And the fact that *she* was in this house meant that Evil Bill could be lurking around here as well! Fox took a hesitant step back and ran into Skinner. "Don't worry, Rascal, Bill is in the store right now. And yes, this is Bill's sister. Better keep that in mind, don't you agree?" Fox nodded slightly and swallowed again. Miss Dana didn't really understand the dynamics that were going on there, so she waved her guests towards the main room. "Make yourselves comfortable. My mother will be here shortly. I'll go get the coffee." Having said that, she left the front room. Skinner guided Fox into the main room, and they both sat down at the table. The boy looked around with open curiosity, taking in new information, storing it all safely in his brain. Skinner had already realized that Fox was a very bright kid and he was fascinated by the way the boy was learning. What fascinated him even more, though, was the fact that Fox seemed to not know the most basic facts. Fox was busy analyzing the intricate workings of the grandfather clock in one corner of the room when Maggie Scully entered. Skinner stood and extended his hand to greet her. She smiled at him and they said hello. The sheriff was more than surprised when he turned around to introduce Fox and saw that the boy was standing as well, ready to take Maggie's hand, imitating Skinner's hand kiss to perfection. Maggie beamed. "Well, hello! You must be the young man Walter told me about." "Yes, ma'am. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance," Fox replied, speaking slowly as if to make certain that he got the wording correct. Skinner's mouth hung open in a very un-gentleman-like manner. Who was that kid and what had happened to his rascal? He stared at Fox, demanding an answer silently. Fox seemed to read his mind and shrugged. "She is old," he declared bluntly. "Age equals wisdom. I am always respectful to wise people." "I am old? Charming," Maggie commented good-naturedly. Skinner shook himself, trying to get his head around the new development. "Well, at least now I know that you *can* be respectful. I should be thankful for small favors," he mumbled. Fox didn't know what the sheriff was trying to imply so he shrugged again. Maggie invited them to sit down again, taking a seat herself. Before anybody was able to say anything, the boy's stomach growled loudly. Fox pressed his hands on his belly, willing the hunger pain to go away, and Skinner sighed, opening his mouth to comment on the boy's stupid decision to refuse the breakfast. Or supper last night. Maggie placed her hand on Skinner's big paw, though, and shook her head slightly. He raised a surprised eyebrow but closed his mouth again. Maggie turned towards the boy. "Walter tells me your name is William but you prefer to be called 'Fox'. Is that correct?" Fox looked at Maggie wide-eyed, then turned to Skinner, surprised that the sheriff would tell anyone about his real name. He nodded slowly. "Yes, ma'am." "Well, then I will call you 'Fox'," Maggie stated, squeezing Skinner's hand again to make certain that he let her have her way. The sheriff frowned but kept his mouth shut. Fox's eyes lit up. "Really?" he asked, excited. Maggie nodded solemnly. "Of course. I wouldn't want to be called by my birth name, either." She leaned forward, whispering to the boy as if revealing a big secret. "It's Margaret Rose." She shook herself excessively to prove that point. "Everybody better call me 'Maggie' or there will be trouble." She gave Fox a mock serious glare and he broke out into a grin. "I like 'Rose' and I think it suits you, ma'am," he pointed out and Maggie beamed. "Well, I guess you can call me 'Rose' then," she said, patting the boy's small hand. Skinner cleared his throat. "I think he should keep calling you 'Mrs. Scully', Maggie," he interjected. That earned him a very serious glare from his host. "And I think you should mind your own business, Walter," she said with an air that brooked no argument. Fox grinned broadly at the sheriff, daring him to say one more word, now that he had a new friend on his side. Skinner sighed loudly and threw his hands in the air in mock surrender. Maggie nodded once, glad that this was taken care of, then turned back to Fox. "Would you do me a favor, Fox?" she asked and received an eager nod from the boy. She pointed to a heavy chest of drawers in one corner of the room. "See this chest of drawers? For whatever reason, there is a picture frame stuck between the chest and the wall. It must have dropped behind it while I was dusting. You have such small hands, I'm sure you can reach in between and get it out for me." Fox nodded again and almost ran over to perform his task. Skinner leaned closer to Maggie who was intently watching the boy. "Why didn't you say something, Maggie? I could easily pull the chest away from the wall for you," he pointed out. "I know that, Walter," Maggie whispered back. "But you just have to trust me on this one, alright?" Skinner sighed again and asked himself whether it had really been such a good idea to bring Fox here. Only a few moments later he heard a triumphant yell coming from the corner and Fox held up the retrieved frame. Maggie smiled broadly. "Thank you, Fox. Just put it on the chest again. And then come here." Fox did as he was told and then stood in front of Maggie who took his hands in hers, squeezing them a little. "I think you deserve a reward for rescuing my beloved picture frame, don't you?" She looked into two eager, gleaming, hazel eyes and smiled. "And I think I have just the right reward for you." Maggie turned to Skinner. "If you'll excuse us for a minute, Walter, but Fox and I have some business to conduct." Before Skinner was able to open his mouth to protest, Maggie had grabbed Fox's hand and they had left the room. Shortly after that, Miss Dana entered the main room, carrying a tray with three cups and a pot of steaming coffee. She was closely followed by Maggie walking next to Fox who was carrying a large glass of milk and a plate stacked with waffles. Skinner's eyes widened in surprise and then they almost fell out of their sockets when he watched the boy happily munching away. Maggie encouraged the boy to go get a second helping and Fox gladly complied. The sheriff wasn't hungry himself, but his mouth watered when he saw the delicious waffles, so Maggie asked Fox to go into the kitchen and bring Skinner a plate as well and, to the big man's utter amazement, the boy obeyed instantly and without the slightest fuss. It was like a miracle. The three adults chatted amicably for a long time, with Fox keeping himself busy by devouring three plates of waffles and drinking at least half a gallon of milk. He was also constantly daring little looks in Miss Dana's direction, unable to grasp the concept of natural red hair. Besides, this was definitely the most beautiful creature he had ever seen in his entire life and he couldn't get enough of her porcelain face. It was unbelievable that she was supposed to be Evil Bill's sister! So it came to no big surprise that Fox eagerly jumped up to help Miss Dana clear the table when he was asked to do so. While the boy and Miss Dana were carrying the dirty dishes into the kitchen Skinner leaned forward and whistled softly. "Maggie, I got to hand it to you. The way you brought him to eat something..." But Maggie merely shook her head. "It was obvious that he was starving. I know you and I knew that you had tried to get him to eat supper. I just assumed he didn't have any breakfast, either. Walter, he doesn't want charity. He wouldn't have eaten a single waffle if I had simply offered it. You must make him feel needed. He wants to earn his meals." Skinner's eyes opened wide when he realized her tactics. "The picture frame," he murmured and Maggie nodded, smiling. "I knew it would be no big deal for you to push the chest of drawers aside, Walter. I just followed my instincts with the boy. Luckily, I was right. But you have to be patient and loving with him. He's hurting badly. Have you seen his face? Even when he smiles, his eyes never really light up. You treated yourself to one very troubled soul, Walter. Make sure you act cautiously." She looked at him imploringly and he nodded slowly. As if he didn't know that he was sailing in unchartered waters here! When Miss Dana and Fox returned, the sheriff planted his big hand back on the boy's shoulder. "Say good-bye, Rascal. It's getting late and we still have some things to do." Fox's face fell considerably. Not only didn't he want to leave the lovely Miss Dana, but he also felt very comfortable with her mother. The sheriff was in a no-nonsense mood, though, so he didn't want to anger him. Fox sighed and turned towards the women. "Good bye, Miss Dana," he said, shaking her hand. "I'm sorry for pulling your hair." Miss Dana smiled and ruffled his hair. He smiled back tentatively before turning to Maggie. "Good bye, Rose," he said with another shy smile, which turned into a broad grin when he saw her beaming face, happy to be called by that name. "And thank you for the waffles," he added as an afterthought. "You drop by anytime you like, Fox, do you hear," Maggie replied and the boy's face lit up. "Yes, ma'am," he exclaimed, before bolting for the door, Skinner closely following. He turned around one last time, door already open. "And I'm sorry for stealing from your store, too," he said softly, hanging his head. The three adults watched the boy, forlorn and lonely, and their hearts went out to him. Skinner squeezed his shoulders gently and led him outside. XXXXX When Fox realized that they were heading towards the livery stable, Skinner was rewarded with a smile. The big man was glad to see the boy a little more relaxed even though he also knew that Maggie had been right - Fox was hurting badly and it would take a lot of time, patience and love to win the boy's trust. He ached to know more about the boy's background, fearing the worst. But he realized that he wouldn't be able to get anything out of his rascal. Fox would tell him in his own time, he hoped. Skinner smiled down at the boy and nodded. "We're going to pick up my horse. He should be ready by now." The sheriff had been surprised when he realized that it was already mid-afternoon. Luckily, he had a slow work week, without any pending cases to worry about, and townsfolk usually knew where to find him in case of an emergency. He wondered how much time he would have to spend with the boy from now on, before realizing with a start that it wasn't so much a question of having to spend time with Fox but having to spend time working! He enjoyed the boy's company and he felt reluctant to leave the rascal alone for any length of time. "Have you ever taken care of a horse, Rascal?" The boy nodded eagerly, a proud smile on his face. "I sure know a lot about horses! And I can ride like the wind," he declared proudly before catching himself. He wasn't supposed to be happy and most definitely not in the sheriff's company, so he shrugged dismissively and sighed. "Not that you'd care," he added sullenly. The sheriff grinned to himself. That little scamp! He knew instinctively what was going on inside the boy's head and decided to humor him. "Well, of course I care, Rascal," he replied jovially. "You have to work off your debt and I need someone to take care of my horse. Cleaning the stable, for example. I wouldn't let anybody who doesn't know about horses near my Buck." Fox glared at the sheriff. Cleaning the stable? He couldn't be serious! "Why don't you just leave him out in the pasture? Then you wouldn't have to worry about a clean stable," he pointed out. Skinner laughed. "Oh, I don't have to worry about a clean stable, anyway, Rascal. That is *your* job now!" He laughed again. "Besides, I don't want Buck to stand out there come rain, come snow. He needs some protection from the wind and the cold." "Nonsense," Fox argued. "Other horses don't have that luxury either, and they are doing just fine." Skinner raised an eyebrow but Fox remained silent. The sheriff sighed. Talk about mercurial! They arrived at the livery stable and were greeted by a man with an open, friendly face. He smiled when he saw Skinner. "Hello, Sheriff! It is good to see you today. How are you?" Fox cocked his head, pondering the strange way the man was speaking. It was English but certain words were pronounced wrong, in a way. Like the 'R' - it was...rolling, somehow. After a moment Fox's eyes widened, when he recognized the man to be the one he had seen the night before, leaving the livery stable with that boy. He turned to Skinner when he felt the big man's hand on his shoulder. "This is Sam, Rascal," Skinner introduced the man who smiled at Fox. The boy gasped when he heard the name and the sheriff squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "What is is, William?" he asked gently. "My...my sister's birth name was Sam. Samantha. But I always said Sam." Fox hung his head, willing the tears that were threatening to fall to go away. Skinner sighed and enveloped the slender body in a bear hug. "I didn't know. I'm sorry, Rascal. It's okay. See, his name is Samuel. Samuel Krycek. We all just call him Sam." Fox pulled out of the embrace angrily, not wanting the comfort, especially not from the sheriff. He looked at that Sam guy. "I come here from East," Sam said, still smiling, even though his face was reflecting his uncertainty about the way the boy had reacted to his name. "From the East coast?" Fox asked, not really interested but curiosity winning in the end. Skinner laughed. "No, Rascal. Way East. From Europe. Russia. That is very far away. On another continent." Sam nodded. "I come here a few years ago, with my wife and my son. We really like it here, in this town. Nice people." Skinner smiled warmly. "And we are glad to have you here, Sam," he replied. Glancing down at the boy, he surmised that he had gotten over the initial shock and changed the subject. "Is Buck ready yet?" Sam nodded. "He feels much gooder now." Skinner smiled but didn't correct the other man while Fox stared at him, his head cocked. Gooder? "It's 'better', Pa, not 'gooder'! How many times do I have to explain this to you?" Fox looked up, trying to locate the voice, and saw a boy climbing down from the loft. He had the most amazing green eyes, which was a small miracle for Fox and ranked just as high as red hair in his opinion, and he realized that this must be the boy he had seen with Sam the night before. The boy jumped down the rest of the ladder, smirking good-naturedly at the small group. "Howdy, Sheriff! Am I arrested?" Skinner laughed. "Well, I don't know, Alex. Should I arrest you?" Alex placed a hand on his chest and looked at Skinner with wide eyes, the picture of a shocked young man. "Me? Never! I'm one of the good guys, and you know it!" He gave Skinner another big grin before coming to a halt in front of Fox who burrowed himself in the sheriff's chest again. "Hi," he said to the other boy, green eyes gleaming. "Hello," Fox replied hesitantly. "I'm Alex," the boy prompted. "I'm Fox," came the reply. Alex sighed. Gee, this boy was a piece of work. Sam turned to his son. "Alex, go and do your chores. The horses are hungry." Alex sighed loudly and rolled his eyes but turned around to walk to the back of the livery stable, grabbing a bucket to fill it with grain. Fox watched him shortly until his eyes fell on the horse in one of the stalls. It was a beautiful, light brown stallion, with strong and powerful legs. The boy's eyes lit up and he was itching to get acquainted with the horse. Skinner saw the pent up energy in the boy and smiled. "Buck is a big horse, Rascal, and he doesn't like strangers. I don't think it's such a good idea for you to get too close to him. Why don't you wait until we're ready to head home?" "But I know horses! I get along with them perfectly!" Fox was using the whiniest tone of voice he could muster and turned hurt eyes at Skinner. The sheriff sighed. "Okay, you can go into the stall next to Buck's. That should be safe enough. As soon as he startles, you are back by my side, is that understood?" He looked at the boy sternly and Fox rolled his eyes. "Is that understood, Rascal?" Skinner squeezed Fox's shoulder warningly. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I understand." Fox sighed loudly, then walked over to the empty stall next to Buck's, advancing the big stallion on his left side slowly. Skinner kept a watchful eye on the boy and his horse, knowing full well that Buck would get highly agitated. Maybe this was exactly what the boy needed, though, he rationalized his decision. The rascal didn't listen to him but he might get scared enough by a slightly panicky horse. Sam looked at the sheriff uncertainly. Skinner smiled tightly and shrugged. He would run to the rescue immediately and he was sure that nothing bad would happen. Trying to act unobtrusively, he chatted a little with Sam, watching Fox out of the corner of his eyes. The boy advanced Buck's head and reached out to him slowly. The stallion snorted and threw his head up, trying to intimidate the small boy. Fox stood his ground, waiting patiently, holding out his hand steadily. After a few minutes Buck calmed down enough to sniff at the boy's hand, nuzzling the palm hesitantly. Fox smiled. He took the horse's head between his hands and leaned his forehead against it slowly, speaking to Buck in a soft voice all the while. Buck whinnied softly before succumbing to the tenderly stroking hands on his long neck. Skinner's mouth fell open. Buck had never acted like that when a total stranger was near. To tell the truth, he was the only one the horse allowed on his back and even he had a hard time to stay up there on occasion. There was no faster horse around and he loved Buck dearly, but the stallion could be dangerous. Watching his horse with the boy like this felt unreal. And even though Fox was speaking too softly to be heard clearly he could swear that the boy wasn't talking in English. This just didn't make any sense. At all. After several minutes, the sheriff cleared his throat and declared loudly, "Well, I guess you found a new friend, Rascal." Fox smiled hesitantly and patted Buck's neck. "Come on, William, I want you to do something for me." He beckoned the boy over and Fox's face fell. He didn't want to leave Buck. But the stern look he received from Skinner convinced him that obedience was the only option, so he walked up to the sheriff. "I want you to go to Mr. Richards' store and pick up the clothes we bought this morning." Fox's face fell even more. "Do you remember where the store is, Rascal?" Fox nodded sullenly. Then he realized that Skinner trusted him enough to make the short trip across town alone and his mood improved slightly. "Why don't you take Alex with you? You two could get to know each other a little more that way," Skinner added and Fox's face fell one more time. So he didn't trust him. He just knew it! Fox sighed but nodded. No reason to start an argument over something so mundane. Alex strolled up and wrapped his arm around the boy's shoulders. "Come on, Fox. I'll show you some interesting places here in town that the grown-ups don't know about," he promised with another smirk directed towards Skinner and his father. "I want you to go to Mr. Richards and then come back directly, Alex," Skinner said forcefully. "I mean it." Alex sighed and rolled his eyes. "Law officers. Surly bunch." He grinned when Skinner gave a mock growl. "Okay, okay, Sheriff, I promise. Come on, Fox!" Alex grabbed Fox's arm and dragged him out of the livery stable. "Tell Mr. Richards that I will drop by to pay for the clothes tomorrow," Skinner shouted, hoping Fox had heard him. "Will do," Alex yelled back, laughing. Skinner and Sam shared a skeptical look. "It was your idea that they become friends," Sam argued, washing his hands clean of any possible mischievous pranks that he knew his son would talk Fox into. The sheriff sighed. As if he didn't know. XXXXX Alex kept up an easy chatter while he strolled down Main Street, Fox in tow. When they passed the Scully corner shop, Fox swallowed nervously and glanced at the closed door. "So, you already met dashing Dana?" Alex asked and Fox blushed. The other boy laughed and slapped him on the back. "Yeah, she has that effect on all of us, Fox. Just be careful around that brother of hers. He's a mean bastard." "I know," Fox muttered, hanging his head. Alex raised an eyebrow. "So I take it you already ran into him, eh?" Fox nodded. Alex shrugged. "If he should ever decide to lay a hand on you, tell me. We'll take care of him." Fox looked up wide-eyed. "What do you mean by that?" Alex just smirked and winked. "So, you're staying with the big guy, huh?" Fox blinked, momentarily caught off-balance by the change of subjects. "Yeah, I guess. At least he thinks so. He's an old meanie." Alex laughed out loud. "'Old meanie'? Nah, he's okay. He really is. I'll admit he can be strict, but he really is a nice man. Most of the time." He winked again. Fox sighed. Most of the time. Great. Just what he needed. A man who held him captive and who was nice *most of the time*. They arrived at Mr. Richards' store and walked in. Alex barged in wearing a broad, disarming smile and greeted the elderly man who smiled in return. "Well, that is a nice surprise, Alex. How are you? Did you find a new friend?" Fox shuffled his feet nervously. He just wanted to grab the stupid clothes and get back to the horse. "Sheriff Skinner asked me to tell you that he'll drop by to pay tomorrow if that's okay with you, Mr. Richards," Alex informed the store owner and received a nod. "Certainly. Here you go, boys." He handed over two bags, one with the old clothing, the other with the newly bought garments. "Say hello to your father, okay, Alex?" The boy nodded, waved good-bye and dragged Fox out of the store. "Gee, Fox, you're the talkative type, aren't you?" he asked, smiling, before shoving the bags into Fox's arms. "Why the hell should *I* carry *your* things, anyway?" With that, he started sauntering down Main Street. Fox stared at Alex for a moment, then followed him. He decided he liked the easy going way the other boy had. Besides, if he had to stay here for longer he sure could use a friend or two. Just as he caught up with Alex he heard a mocking voice yelling, "Well, if it isn't the barbarian!" Fox turned around and saw another boy on the other side of the street. He was a little older and had brown curly hair. Alex sighed and dragged Fox along. "Ignore him. He's an idiot." The older boy realized that Alex wasn't reacting to his jeering so he began a litany of insults, trying to get a reaction from the other boy. Fox looked at Alex, frowning. He didn't understand why Alex ignored the insults. "This is Donny, the donkey. Be careful around him. He likes to pick fights. And he fights dirty." Fox nodded and decided to stay clear of that boy. He walked faster, trying to ignore the gibes thrown their way. Donny walked with Fox and Alex, keeping on his side of Main Street, until the livery stable was very close. Seeing the sheriff waiting outside with his saddled horse, Donny decided that a lecture from the big man was not part of his plan so he let the other boys go. "I'll see you around, barbarian," he yelled before running down a side alley. Alex sighed before giving Fox a tentative smile. "Ignore him. I know it's difficult because he is really obnoxious at times, but you really don't want to get into a fight with him. Unless you want a black eye." He grinned at Fox who smiled back hesitantly. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you, Alex." "Hey, what are friends for?" Alex waved a dismissive hand before walking up to the sheriff, smirking. "Mr. Richards didn't want to give us the clothes without pay so we had to shoot him," he announced solemnly. Skinner scowled at him before breaking into a grin, swatting the boy's butt lightly. Alex laughed and ran into the livery stable. "Bye, Fox!" he yelled from inside, then he was gone. Fox looked at Skinner and Buck, holding the two bags close to his chest. "Ready?" Skinner asked softly and Fox nodded. The sheriff grabbed the boy's waist and lifted him up easily, sitting him down on the big horse. "Hold on tight, Rascal," he said and Fox nodded again. He could feel Buck tensing for a second, but the boy patted his neck reassuringly and the stallion relaxed, remembering Fox. Skinner was utterly amazed. The sheriff mounted Buck, sitting behind Fox, holding him close. They rode out of Independence and arrived at the cabin shortly after that. Skinner helped Fox down from the big horse and told him to go inside and unpack the clothes. Then he grabbed Buck's reins and walked to the stable. XXXXX When Skinner entered his cabin several minutes later, he found Fox sitting with crossed legs on the floor in front of the fireplace. He raised an eyebrow. "You do know that you're allowed to use the furniture, don't you, Rascal?" Fox just looked at him steadily, as if he didn't understand what the sheriff was trying to say. Skinner sighed and walked towards the kitchen to start supper. "Did you unpack, Rascal?" When no answer was forthcoming, the big man entered the main room again and looked at the boy. "Well?" Fox looked up startled. "Hmm?" Skinner sighed again. "What is wrong with you, boy?" Fox just shrugged. The sheriff had a hard time staying calm. Then he had an idea and he beckoned the boy over to the table. Fox got up reluctantly and sat down on one of the two chairs. Skinner walked to a small desk that was crammed into one of the corners and opened a drawer. He took out a notebook and a pencil and walked back to the boy, laying them down in front of Fox who looked up at him blankly. "I want you to do something for me. For yourself." He pointed at the notebook. "I want you to write down your thoughts and feelings. You know, like a diary. I won't read any of this, I promise. I already told you that I respect your privacy, and I mean it. But I think it'll help you cope with your new situation and you can go back and read what was going through your mind now, when you're older." He looked into doubting hazel eyes. "What if I don't want to?" "You don't have to. I just think you would benefit from that in the end. Maybe you don't want to write something down. Maybe you prefer to draw something." Skinner shrugged helplessly. He had never had that kind of problem with the rancher's sons and he felt at a loss. "All I want is that you spend some time, say half an hour every day, with this notebook. You won't have to write or draw anything if you don't want to, but you *will* sit here and reflect upon the day. That might help you focus on the things I'm going to try and teach you." Fox's head snapped up and he stared at the sheriff wide-eyed. Skinner ignored the look. "Now, I will go and start supper. It should be ready in about thirty minutes so you will sit here until we're eating. Do whatever you want to do during this time as long as you keep your butt on that chair." Skinner turned around and walked into the kitchen without looking back. Fox stared at the notebook for a long minute before picking up the pencil. He hesitated, wanting to defy the sheriff, but then began drawing a big horse on the first page. He added a small boy sitting on top of the horse. After looking at the drawing with a critical eye for a few seconds he decided to add a beautiful woman as well. He was still fighting an inner battle whether to ask the big man for a red pen or not but came to the decision that this would only tip Skinner off, so he made sure that the woman had enough freckles on her face to make it obvious to everyone that this was Miss Dana. Not that he wanted anybody else to see this drawing. Fox thought about drawing her mother as well, when Skinner approached with supper and the boy quickly closed the notebook and sat down on it. Skinner tried to keep a straight face when he saw the boy pushing the notebook between the chair and his bottom, but he was relieved and a little proud of himself that Fox had actually been writing. Or drawing. Or whatever. Maybe his idea worked, after all! He placed a bowl with stew in front of the boy and handed him some bread, giving him a stern look that brooked no argument. Sighing, Fox started to eat his supper. XXXXX Skinner had built a fire before sitting down himself to eat his supper, and the cabin was warm and cozy by the time they finished eating. The sheriff took the dirty dishes and brought them into the kitchen. "This will be your responsibility from tomorrow on, Rascal. After all, you have to work off your debt and you have to make yourself useful around the place, so dirty dishes are your job." The big man entered the main room again just in time to see Fox sticking his tongue out in the general direction of the kitchen. When the boy saw Skinner approaching he quickly changed his face into an indifferent expression but the big man had seen the childish act nonetheless. Watching Fox now, trying to act calm and aloof, as if nothing had happened, he had to fight hard to keep a straight face. So his rascal was brave enough to fight as long as his back was turned. At least he had stopped defying him openly, so the boy might just be a little more respectful; maybe he had already learned that he didn't stand a chance against the sheriff. Fox turned defiant eyes towards the big man who leaned against the door frame. "What?" he asked, just this side of open hostility. Hmm, maybe he hadn't learned, after all. Not yet, at least. "Bed, Rascal," Skinner announced and nodded his head towards the alcove. Fox's jaw dropped. "But it's still early," he protested. "It's already dark outside and that is late enough for little boys. Especially when they are acting bratty and childish. Now move!" Fox had opened his mouth in order to protest loudly against the use of the word 'little boy' but when he saw the expression on Skinner's face he decided that he was in enough trouble already. He got up slowly and shuffled towards the alcove. The boy was so lost in his own brooding that he jumped when he felt Skinner's big hand ruffling his hair. The big man was walking next to him, entering the alcove as well. Fox looked at him with a frown but Skinner merely went to the bed and grabbed the still unwrapped clothing. "Come on, Rascal, get ready for bed," he ordered and began to unpack the clothes they had purchased a few hours earlier. Fox blinked in confusion. Get ready? What did he mean by 'get ready'? The boy looked at the bed, unsure whether he'd be able to sleep in that atrocious thing before jumping in, lying down. Skinner looked up, raising an eyebrow. "Up, boy. You don't seriously think that you'll be sleeping in your new clothes, do you?" When the boy didn't react, he placed his hands on his hips, frowning. Fox sighed and jumped out of the bed. That man really didn't know what he wanted! Get in, get out, get in, get out... The boy stood in front of the bed uncertainly, looking at the floor. The sheriff had said that he wasn't going to sleep in his new clothes but he surely didn't mean that he should sleep *without* clothes, did he? Fox didn't mind getting rid of those stupid suspenders, but completely naked...? Skinner found the nightshirt he had bought and held it up for the boy to see. "Strip, then dress in this," he said, placing the night shirt on the bed. Fox stared at him in disbelief. "I'm not wearing this," he declared forcefully. "This is for girls! I will look like a sissy in this!" He held up the nightshirt between two fingers, as if afraid to catch a disease. It was long enough to cover his legs up to his shins. Skinner scowled at him and Fox swallowed. "You *will* wear this, Rascal. You either do this voluntarily or I will help you." Fox swallowed again. He didn't want Skinner near his body. Hell, he hated that stupid hand on his shoulder, so anything else was out of the question. Since the stern look the man gave him brooked no argument, he slipped his arms through the suspenders and slowly began to unbutton his shirt. Satisfied that the boy was obeying, Skinner returned to the task at hand, which was putting the clothes away in the trunk. "So, tell me, Rascal...you said something about some unfinished business you had to attend to at the livery stable. Were you successful?" Skinner turned around to see a shocked look on the boy's face. Oh no, the man hadn't forgotten! Fox swallowed nervously but his honesty won in the end so he whispered, "No, I didn't get around to it. I...I would like to show it to you tomorrow if that's okay." Skinner was surprised by that statement but nodded. "Sure. Anytime you're ready." He finished his task and stood up in time to see Fox pulling the nightshirt over his head. The boy looked down at the nightshirt with a look on his face as if he had just swallowed a slimy snail. Skinner turned around quickly to prevent the boy from seeing him grin. When he had his stoic face firmly back in place he turned back around and placed his hand on Fox's shoulder. "Come on," he said, guiding the boy back outside into the main room. Fox was surprised by this turn of events and looked up at the sheriff with wide eyes. "I thought I had to go to sleep," he said cautiously. "Oh, you will be. As soon as we're finished here." Skinner sat down on the couch in front of the fire place, dragging the boy to stand in front of him. He grabbed Fox's arms and held him in place, looking directly into his eyes. "You misbehaved yesterday and today. I will not tolerate this kind of behavior, and I will punish you for it. Since you don't know the ground rules yet I will only punish you for the things that were obviously not allowed." He shook the boy a little. "Do you understand me, Rascal?" Fox stared at the big man in shock, unable to move a muscle. "What...what are you going to do to me?" he whispered, obviously scared. "I will spank you." Skinner tightened his grip on the boy's arms when he felt Fox go weak. Huge hazel eyes stared at him pleadingly. "No, Rascal. You know you misbehaved. I know that you know. Believe me, I have experience with boys like you and I have punished boys like you. Don't think for a minute that I enjoy punishing you. I'd much rather spend my time going fishing with you, for example, but you have to understand that there are certain rules that you have to obey." Skinner looked at the boy, waiting for an answer. There wasn't one. The boy kept staring at the sheriff wide-eyed, shell-shocked. "Do you remember me telling you about your actions and my reactions, Rascal?" Skinner asked softly. Fox nodded slowly after a second. "And do you remember the swats you received today for your actions and I told you that this was my reaction?" the sheriff continued, still speaking softly, reassuringly. Fox nodded again, tears starting to pool in his eyes. Skinner closed his eyes for a second, steeling himself. Seeing the boy like this, frightened, forlorn, desperate even, made his heart go out to him. But he knew at the same time that Fox had to learn his lesson and that it wouldn't help him if he didn't receive his punishment. He took a calming breath and opened his eyes again. Fox couldn't believe what has happening to him. He felt Skinner's big hands lifting him over the big man's legs, positioning him over the left thigh, with the right one pinning his skinny legs to the cushions. His left arm was trapped between Skinner's back and the back of the couch and his right wrist was held in a steel grip in the small of his back. Then he felt the nightshirt being lifted to expose his naked butt. He started to tremble. This had never happened to him before and he didn't know what to except. When his long hair was ruffled gently, he almost jumped out of his skin. "Shh, Rascal, it's okay. I know this will hurt but you have to understand that this is for your own good. I hope you will learn something from this. I do know that you've been pushing the limits deliberately for the last two days and I intend to make sure that you know that this behavior is unacceptable." Fox felt his right wrist being released and the big hand started to stroke his back soothingly. "Tell me, Rascal, you know that you misbehaved, don't you?" The boy nodded slowly. "What did you do that wasn't appropriate?" Skinner asked gently, still stroking the boy's back, calming him. "I bit you and kicked you. Twice. I did something that you call 'having a smart mouth'. I called you names. Though you *are* an old meanie!" Fox let out a ragged sigh, half expecting the first blow on his butt. Nothing happened, though. Skinner grinned despite himself. Old Meanie, my foot! Fox used his released right hand to wipe away a single tear angrily, then placed the arm obediently back in its original spot. Skinner raised a surprised eyebrow but said nothing. "Oh, and I stole," Fox added softly, reluctantly. "We'll deal with this later on. But I'm glad that you know that stealing is wrong." Skinner grabbed the boy's wrist again, pinning it in the small of the back. "I was positively surprised to see that you actually had good manners and I'm glad that you know how to be respectful. I want you to be like this to every adult, Rascal, and I don't want to hear that nonsense about earning your respect. This is not what I condone and you will learn to live by my rules. Remember that." And with that, he let his big hand fall on Fox's bottom for the first time. Fox yelled loudly when he felt the sharp sting in both cheeks. His butt was rather small and the sheriff's big hands easily covered most of both parts. Skinner decided to go easy on the boy because it was the first time he would receive a spanking from the man but he made sure that Fox knew he meant business. He fell into an easy rhythm, giving the boy ample time to catch his breath between blows, all the while talking softly to him about his misdeeds and what was expected of him. The cheeks were turning red rather fast and he thought about continuing down the boy's thighs but decided against it. He realized that Fox was shocked about what was happening to him in the first place; he didn't want to add the more agonizing pain of punished thighs during his first spanking. Skinner had a hard time holding the small body in place. Fox was wriggling, writhing, and struggling frantically. The sheriff was trying hard to ignore the heart-breaking sobs that shook the boy but Fox not once started pleading. He accepted the punishment as a given even though he was crying his heart out. The sheriff seriously hoped that the boy didn't despise him now. He had become fond of Fox and he never intended any harm; far from it, he wanted to prevent him from ever getting hurt. With a pang he realized that he was too late for that. That small boy must have gone through hell already and the sheriff decided to get to the bottom of Fox's dark secrets. Skinner looked at the crimson red butt, muscles clenching unconsciously, trying to relieve the pain a little. If this was what it took to keep the boy safe, then so be it. With one last hard smack on the boy's sit spot, that provoked a loud sob from Fox, the sheriff stopped the spanking. He released the small wrist and began to rub the boy's back and hair soothingly, speaking little words of nonsense to calm him down. It took the boy several minutes to get his emotions under control again and he wriggled a little to prompt Skinner to let him up. The sheriff untangled the slim body from his big frame and slipped his big hands under Fox's arms, raising him up with ease until the boy was kneeling on the couch, straddling the big man's thighs. Fox wiped the tears away angrily and made an effort of not letting his throbbing butt touch Skinner's legs. Skinner smiled slightly and pushed the long, sweaty hair out of the boy's eyes. "Will...will you give me my gun now?" Fox asked hesitantly, still rubbing his eyes. Skinner's smile disappeared instantly. "No, Rascal. I told you that you wouldn't get this gun back anytime soon." "But I don't wanna leave without my gun," the boy wailed heart-broken, new and heavy tears rolling down his face. Skinner looked at him in shock, then enveloped him in a bear hug. "You're not going to leave, Rascal. I want you to stay here. Do you hear me? You'll stay right here. Nobody will send you away. I told you that I wouldn't let you go until someone came to collect you." The boy stiffened in his arms but Skinner held on tight, rocking him back and forth. "What if nobody comes to collect me?" Fox asked in a small voice. Skinner stopped the rocking motion, realizing that his answer would determine not only his future but also the boy's. He took a big breath before stating in a loud, certain voice, "I won't let you go until someone comes to collect you, Rascal." Fox was still fighting the embrace but the sheriff was stronger. When Skinner felt the small body relax in his arms he sighed in relief. It might still be a long and hard war but he had just won the first battle. He gave the boy one last squeeze before holding him at arm's length. "Bed," he said. The boy nodded slowly and stood up, rubbing the sting out of his hurting butt. Skinner smiled slightly while he watched Fox gingerly walking into the alcove. When he heard a muttered "Old Meanie" his smile turned into a grin. He gave the boy a few minutes before getting up himself. Skinner saw the notebook still laying on Fox's chair and went to retrieve it. He looked at the closed notebook for a second, smiling, then walked stealthily over to the alcove. Fox was sleeping peacefully on top of the comforter. Skinner sighed and walked in, carefully pulling the comforter over the small body, tucking Fox in. He placed the notebook on the nightstand, within easy reach of the boy. He glanced back down at his sleeping charge and smiled. Just like this morning, he looked like a small child in desperate need of guidance. And love. With a start, Skinner realized that he was more than willing to provide both. He gently stroked the boy's hair once before leaving the alcove, drawing the curtain closed. Maybe all of this hadn't been such a bad decision, after all. THE END OF CHAPTER 4. Feedback always welcomed! Send it to Gaby!