Warning: 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.

Additional warning: There's some implied child abuse in this chapter 
(no, it's not Fox and it's not done by Skinner! Seriously, folks!!!) 
Also, the punishment that is being dished out in this chapter is not 
loving - so it's clearly *not* the way it is done in a discipline 
relationship. And yes, it's Fox's butt that suffers but it is not 
Skinner who punishes him! Turn back if that squicks ya!

Category: PG-13, Discipline

Disclaimer: I bought Mulder for half a season so eat my shorts, Chris! 
I've stolen Skinner and I ain't gonna give him back. I'll trade you 
the Smoker for a two-armed Krycek, though, if you're interested, 
surfer dude! <g>

My addy is: gaby@gaby.slashcity.tv

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

Author's Notes: Thanks to Xanthe for a wonderful idea that sparked off 
the last scene. Hope I did it justice! :-)

Dedication: Okay, I usually don't do dedications but after all that 
has happened lately I really have to kneel and worship a couple of 
people (don't let it go to your heads, gals! <g>) So, this one's 
dedicated...:
...to Cadillac Red and DiAnn for being great friends and lending their 
shoulders to cry on when I needed them. You rock, girls!
...to Judy for all those wonderful "cheer-me-up" snippets of hers! :-)
...to Eleri because, even though I didn't really write this story 
*for* her, it is still my birthday pressie for her! Happy B-Day, my 
dear! :-) And thanks for the wavs!!!
...to Karen for the wonderful gem! :-)

Summary: Fox goes on an apology tour and learns a valuable lesson 
along the way...



INDEPENDENCE
by Gaby


Chapter 6: Clean Slate



When Sheriff Skinner woke up the next morning he had a big smile on 
his face. The fact that last night his rascal had snuggled up to him 
in the end filled him with pride and contentment. Fox really had grown 
on him so fast and apparently the boy started to feel a little bit at 
home himself now. When the big man had carried the sleeping bundle 
into the alcove late last night Fox had practically leeched himself to 
the sheriff. Skinner had had to pry the skinny arms off his neck 
before he was able to straighten up again, watching the boy cuddling 
into the warm comforter. What a sight!

Skinner's smile grew wider while he was stretching his long limbs 
before getting out of his bed. He was looking forward to spending a 
day with the boy. He was sure that it wouldn't be easy and he 
predicted that his rascal would either find some kind of new trouble 
to get into or suddenly turn mercurial on him again or probably both, 
but he still thought that the new and tender bond between them would 
grow stronger with each passing hour.

He yawned heartily while he opened the door, not really watching where 
he was going. His glasses in one hand, the other hand rubbing over his 
eyes, he literally ran into his rascal just outside his bedroom door. 
Skinner blinked in confusion, trying to get his brain to function even 
though he didn't have any coffee intake yet, and raised a questioning 
eyebrow. Fox was already dressed -in the very same clothes he had worn 
yesterday, the sheriff noted- and pacing the floor nervously, wringing 
his hands. He looked at the sheriff with huge hazel eyes, a shy smile 
tugging at his lips. "Good morning," Skinner said cautiously, not 
entirely sure where this was leading. It was very early in the morning 
and Fox had not been looking forward to spend a day apologizing and 
explaining himself to people. Why was he standing here, almost in the 
middle of the night, ready and set to go?

"Good morning, sheriff," Fox replied happily and with way too much 
energy for Skinner's taste. "Did you sleep well?"

The big man's other eyebrow rose as well and his sleepy brain kicked 
into high-gear. "Yes," he replied, still cautiously. "And you?"

"Oh, I slept fine. Well, my butt hurt a little," Fox answered, waving 
a dismissive hand. That got Skinner's attention. The boy had yelled 
bloody murder when he had been punished and now he basically ignored 
the whole thing? Something was clearly wrong here. "Anyway, I was 
thinking...since I'm already up and all..." Fox blushed a little and 
looked at the floor. "Could I...maybe...go and take care of Buck this 
morning?" He chanced to look at the sheriff through his eyelashes, not 
entirely sure how the big man would react.

Skinner stared at him in disbelief. That was it? Buck? He had to 
smile. The boy really loved that horse. And the sheriff had to admit 
that he was rather proud of Fox - he could've just gone and spent an 
hour with Buck without asking the sheriff's permission. When Skinner 
had forbidden him to take care of the horse the previous day, it had 
basically killed the boy. Skinner grinned and ruffled the boy's hair 
affectionately. "Sure, Rascal. Go ahead. But don't dawdle, okay? He 
have a busy day ahead of us so I want you back in here when 
breakfast's on the table."

Fox gave the sheriff a blinding smile and nodded before he ran out of 
the cabin.

XXXXX

Sheriff Skinner washed himself and got dressed. He decided that a 
hearty breakfast was the best course of action since he didn't know 
when they would be able to eat lunch so he whipped up some bacon and 
eggs, fried a couple of potatoes and heated up some biscuits. With a 
slightly evil smile, he prepared a bowl of porridge as well and placed 
it in front of the boy's chair. He just knew that he would have a 
hissing wildcat at his throat within the next minute but he couldn't 
stop himself. Just when he carried a large glass of milk and a cup of 
coffee from the kitchen to the table, the door flew open and Fox 
entered, a big smile on his face.

"I take it you and Buck had a good time?"

The boy's head bobbed up and down. "He missed me," Fox stated solemnly 
and plopped down on his chair, only to jump up again when his tender 
bottom hit the hard wooden surface. He winced and rubbed his butt 
ruefully.

"That should teach you to be more careful, Rascal," Skinner said, 
smiling. He grabbed the worn throw pillow from the old leather chair 
in the corner and gave it to Fox who nodded gratefully. With the 
pillow to cushion the pain, he sat down again and sighed, a little 
smile of contentment on his lips.

Until he saw his breakfast.

Fox frowned and glared at the sheriff. "What is this?" he asked and 
looked as if he had just stepped into something that Buck had dropped.

"Breakfast, Rascal," Skinner replied, trying very hard to keep a 
straight face. "It's good for you."

"Well, when it's good for me, then it's also good for you," Fox 
replied and shoved the bowl in front of the sheriff. He looked at the 
rest of the breakfast and wrinkled his nose. Again, no waffles! 
Sighing, the boy grabbed a biscuit and took a hearty bite out of it.

Skinner placed the bowl back in front of his rascal. "Eat, William. 
You have to gain some weight, boy, and I am not going to discuss this 
with you." He gave Fox a hard look before digging into his bacon and 
eggs.

"But this looks...yucky," Fox protested, watching in disgust as slimy 
balls of porridge pearled off the spoon he was holding up. When 
everything had dropped into the bowl he shoved the spoon back into the 
porridge, only to hold it up again. With a sputtering noise, his 
breakfast fell back into the bowl.

"Eat, Rascal," Skinner said, louder this time. "It certainly looks 
'yucky' when you fool around like this. Don't play with your food, 
boy, eat it."

Fox gave the sheriff another withering look but he obeyed, grimacing 
when he tasted the porridge for the first time. He shook himself in 
exaggeration, trying to show Skinner just how much of a torture this 
breakfast was. The sheriff ignored him, grinning inwardly.

"You know, Rascal, I had to eat this too, when I was a boy," Skinner 
said, trying to make Fox feel a little better.

"And you *survived* this?" Fox groused, making a face as if he were 
chewing on an old shoe.

Skinner sighed and gave in. "Okay, you win. Eat half the bowl and I'm 
happy. Then you can dig into the other stuff. Deal?"

"I'd rather eat the *bowl* than what's *in* it," Fox mumbled but 
nodded. Skinner grinned and went to the pantry to get some sugar. 
Without saying a word, he poured a generous amount of sugar on top of 
the porridge before sitting back down to continue his breakfast. Fox 
looked at him in surprise but stirred the porridge slowly, mixing the 
sugar with the rest. His first spoonful of now sweetened porridge 
produced a broad smile on his face and he finished the entire bowl. 
"Can I have some more?" he asked, holding up the empty bowl with both 
hands, a pleading look in his eyes.

The sheriff couldn't help himself, he had to laugh out loud. "Maybe 
tomorrow, Rascal. Why don't you finish what's already on the table, 
hmm?" Fox sighed but nodded. He grabbed some more biscuits and stuffed 
them into his mouth with delight. "Nobody's going to take this away 
from you, Rascal. Slow down." Skinner shook his head in bewilderment. 
The boy was clearly a hearty eater - then why was he so damn skinny? 
At least at the rate he was going Fox should have gained a few pounds 
within a week or two.

XXXXX

When they had finished breakfast Fox got up to clear the table. 
Skinner was positively surprised that the boy obeyed the rules without 
being told and found himself smiling proudly. He got up and was 
already halfway out of the door when he remembered something, so he 
turned back to the kitchen just as the boy appeared again to take away 
the last few breakfast items. "When you're done with the dishes I want 
you to go and change, Rascal," Skinner said. "The clothes are on your 
bed."

Fox glared at the sheriff. Change clothes? That could only mean one 
thing - the itchy wool trousers! And those damned suspenders, 
probably! "Why?" he asked defiantly.

"Because I say so," the big man replied calmly. He wasn't surprised 
that the boy didn't like the idea of wearing the more 'formal' 
clothes.

Fox crossed his arms and cocked his head. "'Because I say so'?" he 
repeated mockingly. "You're a sheriff. Surely you can do better than 
that!"

Skinner raised a surprised eyebrow and bit the inside of his cheek to 
keep from laughing. He took one step closer and leaned down to whisper 
into the boy's ear, "Because I say so and your butt is already 
hurting." He straightened back up, looking at his rascal expectantly.

The boy's eyes grew large for a split second, then he had himself 
under control again. "Good point," he conceded. After looking at the 
sheriff for another long moment he turned around and walked back into 
the kitchen.

"I'll get Buck ready," Skinner called after him, before he left the 
cabin. Only when the door was firmly closed behind him, did he allow 
himself to laugh out loud.

XXXXX

Fox obediently took care of the dirty dishes and then went to the 
alcove where the sheriff had already selected the clothes we was 
supposed to wear. The boy sighed deeply. As if the punishment the 
previous day hadn't been enough - now he had to wear these clothes 
again! Making a face, he changed into the white cotton shirt, the wool 
trousers and the damned suspenders. He looked at the gray vest and 
decided to ignore it. There was no way he was wearing this thing - the 
shirt was cut more formally and didn't give him as much space to move 
around as the other shirt did, and with the suspenders he already felt 
tied down! The vest would only make it worse!

The boy had been looking forward to a day spent outside with Buck. 
Okay, and the sheriff. But now, wearing the 'good' clothes, he 
suddenly realized what he was going to have to do today - apologizing 
to complete strangers for stealing from them. With that thought in 
mind he was convinced that there was nothing more appealing than 
spending the day in the sheriff's cabin, washing dirty dishes!

So Fox wandered around the cabin, inspecting the main room more 
closely. Skinner hadn't come back inside so he figured that the big 
man was still busy getting Buck ready. And that was fine by him - it 
could only mean that they wouldn't leave too soon.

Fox walked over to the mantelpiece and looked at the clock more 
closely. He remembered Skinner pointing at it the previous night, 
telling him that he had half an hour of 'Reflection Time' to focus on 
the lessons he had learned. The boy cocked his head and watched the 
seconds tick by, following the hand with the tip of his finger. He 
listened to the soft tick-tock intently, trying to figure out what 
exactly a 'half an hour' was merely by listening to the little wheels 
inside the clock turning again and again. Since the clock didn't seem 
to help him by revealing any of its secrets, Fox gazed over at the 
small wooden box that was standing next to it. He picked it up 
carefully, looking at it from every possible angle. The wood was 
intricately carved, and Fox suddenly remembered the woodshed and 
Skinner's remark that he liked working with wood. He figured that the 
sheriff must have made the box himself. Fox was seriously impressed 
but couldn't bring himself to open the box, no matter how curious he 
was. This just wouldn't have been right - and surely a spankable 
offense! The boy put the box back in its place and took another step, 
closer to the rocking chair.

The main room was definitely crammed - the rocking chair was in the 
way, even though Skinner had moved the worn couch slightly to the side 
to find a little room for the chair, just to the side of the fire 
place. Fox wouldn't have it any other way, he loved this chair. He let 
his hand trail down the armrest, pushing down on it a little, making 
the chair move back and forth. The boy smiled slightly, remembering 
what had happened only a few hours earlier.

His eyes moved over the small table next to the rocking chair. It was 
nothing more than a stool really, and Fox remembered that it usually 
stood next to the old leather chair in the 'reading corner' but 
Skinner must have moved it to the rocking chair the previous night. 
There was an oil lamp on it as well as the book the big man had been 
reading in. Fox stared at the book, transfixed, before he slowly 
reached out to it. His fingers lightly trailed the leathery book cover 
and the letters that were stamped in it, probably the title. Fox 
picked the book up with trembling hands, taking a moment to sniff the 
faint smell of leather before opening the book reverently, as if he 
was afraid that the letters might fall off the pages if he wasn't 
careful enough. His fingers trailed each new line, then he turned a 
page and resumed his thorough inspection. Every once in a while there 
was a drawing on a page and Fox looked for them once he realized that, 
memorizing each new illustration in detail. He guessed that the 
drawings had something to do with the story itself and he imagined 
that he would be able to 'read' the book by looking at the drawings 
intently enough.

Fox was so immersed in the book that he didn't hear the sheriff 
entering the cabin. Skinner stopped at the door, watching his rascal 
with a smile on his lips. The boy had a thing for books! Skinner 
wasn't sure whether this should surprise him or not but he was glad 
that he found something Fox seemed to like. He remembered how 
concentrated the boy had been when he was writing his 'report' on just 
how mean Skinner was. There were several pages in that notebook full 
of the boy's scribble - when he enjoyed writing, it was only natural 
that he also liked reading.

The sheriff slowly walked over to the boy, the smile still firmly in 
place. "Hey, you," he said softly. Fox startled, slammed the book shut 
with a loud thud and let it drop to the floor guiltily. He swallowed 
hard, trying to gauge by the big man's reaction whether or not he was 
in trouble. Skinner just smiled wider and picked up the book. He sat 
down in the rocking chair, placed the book next to the oil lamp and 
crooked his finger at Fox. "Come here, Rascal," he said, trying to 
appear as non-threateningly as possible. The boy looked at the sheriff 
speculatively but obeyed which delighted Skinner to no end. Fox stood 
between the sheriff's open legs, looking at the big man under lowered 
eyelashes. Skinner reached out and matter-of-factly rolled down the 
boy's right shirt sleeve, buttoning the cuff. "So, you like books?" he 
asked the boy, making sure he sounded soothing.

Fox shrugged with one shoulder, obviously surprised and thrown 
off-balance by the sheriff's reaction. "Alex told me you read to him 
when he was sick," he mumbled.

"Hmm, that's right. He had a bad case of bronchitis last winter and a 
couple of townspeople took turns taking care of him when his father 
had to work. I was one of them." Skinner readjusted the left shirt 
sleeve, frowning in thought. "I think it was a 'Sherlock Holmes' 
book," he added.

"That's what Alex said," Fox agreed, looking at the hated shirt. Now 
it was even more uncomfortable, with the sleeves firmly in place. He 
sighed.

Skinner chuckled and turned the boy around a little, so he was able to 
tuck in the shirt tail. When the boy really looked presentable the 
sheriff gave him a light swat on the tender butt. "You forgot your 
vest, Rascal," he admonished, smiling a little. "Go and get it, okay?" 
Fox gave the big man a withering look but he obeyed. When he had 
disappeared in the alcove Skinner added, "And bring me the hairbrush, 
Rascal." The sheriff got up and went to the small bookshelf in the 
'reading corner.' He found the book he was looking for and sat back 
down in the rocking chair.

Fox entered the main room again, the brush in his hand and a serious 
frown on his face. "Why do I have to wear these suspenders? If I have 
to wear the vest nobody will see these things, anyway! And the pants 
fit also so I don't need those stupid suspenders to hold them in 
place! I don't wanna wear them!" He came to a stop in front of the 
sheriff, wearing a full pout.

The big man tried to suppress a grin. He merely reached out, his hand 
disappearing under the vest, lightly grabbing the suspenders and 
tugging at them. "Isn't it enough that *I* know they are there? Even 
though I don't see them I will always know you're wearing them. And 
you wouldn't want to disappoint me, would you, Rascal?" Skinner raised 
an eyebrow, fully expecting a snide remark.

He wasn't disappointed. "When you're so anxious about those stupid 
suspenders, I could carry them around in my pocket," Fox reasoned, 
glaring at the sheriff then, with a gleam in his eye, he added, "Old 
Meanie!"

Skinner laughed out loud. He was glad that the boy felt a little more 
at ease, a little more relaxed. "That's a pretty good idea, Rascal. 
I'll think about it." He chuckled, then turned serious. Fox held the 
hairbrush that the sheriff had bought for him, offering it to the big 
man. Skinner, in turn, offered the book he had grabbed from the shelf. 
The boy looked at the book with wide eyes, cocking his head. They 
slowly exchanged the brush and the book as if trading precious gifts. 
The sheriff began to brush the boy's hair, desperately trying to tame 
the wild mane of long, silky strands. Fox didn't even seem to notice - 
he was totally enraptured by the book in his hands. "It's the Sherlock 
Holmes book I read to Alex," Skinner informed him. "I thought you 
might enjoy it. Actually I'm pretty sure it's right up your alley. 
Holmes is a very smart man, always trying to solve crimes. His mind 
works in mysterious ways sometimes...reminds me of you a little." The 
big man smiled tenderly at the boy who still stared at the book, 
slowly running his hand over the cover.

"Thank you," Fox finally said softly. He looked into the sheriff's 
eyes, smiling shyly. The boy looked as if he had just received the 
most precious gift in the entire world. It took him a moment to 
realize what the sheriff was doing and he frowned. "Why are you 
messing up my hair?" he asked accusingly.

Skinner chuckled again. "Messing up? I'm trying to straighten out 
those long locks of yours! And apparently I'm failing miserably." He 
sighed and gave Fox a doubtful look. "I think we should cut your hair, 
Rascal. It's really long."

Fox stared at the sheriff aghast and took a step back. "No!" he said 
forcefully. "No, you'll stay away from my hair! I want it that long! 
It's important to me!"

The sheriff raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. "Just a little bit, 
Rascal. I mean, you'll soon be able to run around with piggy tails!" 
He smiled a little at the mental image and gently tugged at the silky 
hair that almost fell to the boy's shoulders.

"No!" Fox glared at the big man, daring him to get close to him again. 
"It's important to me," he repeated.

Skinner saw how agitated the boy was and decided to drop the subject. 
For now. "Okay, okay," he said, soothingly. "I won't come near you 
with a pair of scissors so calm down, Rascal." Fox stared at the 
sheriff for another long moment, decided that there was no immediate 
danger and took a step closer again. Skinner sighed in relief and 
continued brushing the hair until it finally looked somewhat decent. 
The big man really liked the ruffled look the boy usually wore but 
meeting with old Mr. Spender would be hard enough without giving him 
any unnecessary ammo against his rascal.

Fox sighed, clearly not happy with the turn of events. Skinner gave 
him a quick smile and got up. "Come on, Rascal," he said, planting his 
right hand on the boy's shoulder. "Do you want to take the book with 
you?" he offered. Fox nodded gratefully and Skinner smiled. He caught 
himself just in time before he ruffled the boy's hair lovingly and 
reassuringly squeezed the shoulder instead. They walked out of the 
cabin side by side.

XXXXX

As soon as Fox saw Buck he pouted. "Why can't we ride?" he whined, 
pointing at the wagon that waited in the yard. "I don't wanna sit on 
that thing, I wanna sit on Buck!"

Skinner smiled and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Rascal, but not today. 
We'll be on the road for quite a while and it's really not very 
comfortable to share a horse. But Buck is a good boy. He actually 
enjoys pulling a carriage every once in a while."

"I don't think so," the boy stated forcefully and walked up to Buck. 
He rubbed the horse's head gently and talked to him in a soft voice. 
The sheriff grabbed the stolen clothes from the line, folded them up 
neatly and put them in a bag. When he walked over to the wagon to 
deposit the garments into the back, he heard Fox mumble, "Poor Buck, I 
just bet you feel as tied down in this harness as I do right now...I 
bet this is the horse's version of suspenders!" The boy stroked his 
friend's long neck and Buck whinnied.

The sheriff smiled inwardly. "Come on, Rascal, time to go," he said 
out loud and nodded towards the high seat.

Fox sighed in exasperation but moved to the wagon. He stopped next to 
the front wheel, looking up at the hard wooden seat in trepidation. 
Suddenly he felt two strong hands on his hips, lifting him up, and he 
gave a surprised squeak. When he stood firmly on top of the wagon, he 
turned around to glare at the sheriff. "I could've climbed up here by 
myself," he said indignantly.

"I know that, Rascal," Skinner replied, climbing up himself. He smiled 
at Fox and sat down to the boy's left. "I just felt like it, okay?" 
Fox looked at the sheriff warily and sighed, but nodded in the end. 
Skinner's smile widened and he gently stroked the boy's hair. "Good. 
Let's go then!" He grabbed the reins and ordered Buck to move.

XXXXX

At first Fox looked at the scenery around him. When he had first 
arrived in Independence, he had come from the opposite direction. 
Where Skinner was heading was completely new to him and it could never 
hurt to know one's surroundings! The boy literally drank up the new 
information, mapping the grounds in his mind, remembering specifics 
like a rock formation or a surreal looking tree. It was good to be out 
in the open. Fox liked the outside. Being cooped up all day in a house 
was a nightmare for the boy and he was glad that this trip would at 
least give him several hours of sunlight and fresh air. When he 
thought about the purpose of this trip though, he shuddered. The 
sheriff wanted him to apologize to these people and he just knew that 
this could only mean trouble. Skinner had made it pretty clear that he 
was a strict man and that he thought that Fox needed a firm hand. The 
boy had the sinking feeling that no matter how careful he would be, in 
the end he would find himself over the big man's knees. He sighed and 
fidgeted nervously.

Skinner watched his rascal out of the corner of his eyes. Once more he 
was surprised how much impact the outdoors had on the boy. Fox seemed 
much more alive when he was in the wide open and the sheriff swore to 
himself to sent the boy out more. Fox looked around curiously, turned 
his face into the warm rays of the sun and inhaled the fresh morning 
air. It was a sight to behold. But suddenly his face seemed to go 
blank and his eyes started to dart around nervously. Skinner wasn't 
certain what the cause was but he decided to wait it out. Maybe the 
boy was trusting him enough to confide in him - if not, he'd just ask 
what the matter was. But after another minute, the problem seemed to 
be solved and Skinner turned back around to concentrate on the road.

Fox decided that worrying himself into a frenzy wasn't really getting 
him anywhere. Of course he was nervous about that old Mr. Spender - 
after all, the sheriff had specifically warned him about the man! But 
fidgeting only made his butt hurt more, and he clutched the book that 
he still held in his hands even tighter. He suddenly remembered the 
gift and decided to use it. After all, the sheriff had given it to 
him; no reason to just ignore it! The boy turned the book around in 
his hands for a moment until the side with the letters was on top. 
Then he opened the cover reverently, turning to the first page. 
Obviously, there weren't any illustrations in this book so he had to 
make do with the letters. Using one finger to trace every single line, 
Fox consumed page after page, forgetting to squirm and fidget in the 
process.

The sheriff smiled a little when he saw the boy's face. Fox was 
obviously totally enraptured with the story and Skinner mentally 
congratulated himself on giving the book to his rascal. Maybe, if he 
was calm enough, the boy would deliver his apologies in a solemn and 
polite way and they would leave the Spender ranch without any major 
incidents. Skinner hoped so. Just thinking of poor young Jeffrey made 
him shiver - he didn't want to think what the old man would want to do 
to his rascal! Maybe another warning was in order...

"Enjoying the book, Rascal?" the sheriff asked softly, reaching out to 
tuck the strands of hair that had fallen into the boy's face behind 
the left ear. Fox startled when he was touched and Skinner immediately 
regretted what he had done, but when he received a shy smile he sighed 
in relief and completed the task. The boy nodded slightly and closed 
the book. "I didn't want to keep you from reading," Skinner began but 
Fox interrupted him.

"That's okay. I was going to stop, anyway." He shrugged and put the 
book down on the seat next to him.

"Good. Listen, about Mr. Spender...do you remember what I told you 
yesterday?"

The boy eyed him warily, then nodded. "You said he's a mean old 
meanie," he stated.

Skinner desperately tried to suppress a grin. "Well, yes, I guess 
that's the bottom line. But let's not call him that to his face, shall 
we?" Fox shrugged. The sheriff suddenly had a very bad feeling about 
the whole thing. "Look, Rascal, it's imperative that you be on your 
best behavior when he get to the ranch. I'm not kidding." He didn't 
want to scare the boy but it looked as if he had no choice but to 
paint a more drastic picture. Then he had an idea. "He's already 
rather old," he informed his rascal.

Fox turned a little to look at him more closely. "Oh?"

"Absolutely. So, what does that mean?"

"I'll be respectful, of course." Fox looked at the sheriff as if the 
big man had lost his mind. Wasn't it obvious what he would do?

Skinner sighed in relief. He hated to manipulate the boy into 
compliance but this was clearly the road of least resistance. However, 
that didn't mean that he couldn't educate Fox as well. "You do know 
how I think about the respect issue though, don't you, Rascal?"

Fox rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I do. But I already told you that people 
have to earn my respect!" He gave the sheriff a poignant look. "Except 
when they're old and wise, of course," he added before he crossed his 
arms defiantly over his chest and stared straight ahead.

The sheriff sighed again. One day he would be able to change the boy's 
opinion, he was sure of that. But for now he was just glad that his 
rascal would behave when he was confronted with Spender. Hopefully, 
even if the old bastard was his usual 'charming' self!

XXXXX

The rest of the journey was spent in silence. Skinner concentrated on 
the road while Fox kept drinking in his surroundings. The boy started 
to fidget again when they passed through the arched gate that marked 
the entry to Spender's vast ranch. He looked at the sheriff nervously 
and gave a tentative smile when the big man stroked his long hair 
soothingly.

It took them another few minutes until they finally reached the main 
building. Skinner stopped Buck in the middle of the yard, tying the 
reins to the wagon. Fox stared at the imposing ranch house with his 
mouth opened. He had never seen anything like this. It was like...a 
white castle! He had seen a sketch in Skinner's book that showed a 
castle, something that the boy had never seen before. Not that this 
ranch house looked a whole lot like a castle...but it was just 
so...huge! The sheriff's cabin would fit into this building at least a 
dozen times! And there were several smaller houses nearby, roughly 
creating a circle. Fox was seriously impressed.

The boy startled when the sheriff called him. Skinner had jumped off 
the wagon and now stood next to it, smiling broadly. "Come on, Rascal, 
we don't have all day," he said, stretching his arms out invitingly. 
Fox stood up and looked at the sheriff indignantly.

"I can get off by myself," he mumbled, clearly taken aback by the mere 
thought that Skinner would have him jump into his arms.

"I know that, big boy," Skinner replied, still grinning. "Indulge me."

Fox sighed and rolled his eyes to show his annoyance but crouched down 
nevertheless, making it easier for the sheriff to grab his waist. Then 
he pushed himself off the wagon, giving a surprised squeak when 
Skinner lifted him up instead of down. The boy hung in the air for a 
long second before the sheriff deposited him safely to the ground. Fox 
beamed in delight and giggled when Skinner tickled his ribcage before 
he let go of the waist. "Thank you," he mumbled, staring at the floor, 
blushing. He was *not* going to enjoy anything with the sheriff! This 
was ridiculous!

"See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Skinner asked, stroking the boy's 
abundant hair again. Then he proceeded to make him look more 
presentable again, tucking in the shirt tails and straightening the 
vest.

Both the big man and the slender boy turned around startled when they 
heard someone yelling happily, "Sheriff Skinner, sheriff Skinner!" Fox 
was surprised when he saw Skinner break out in another broad grin and 
looked at the the boy that was running towards them at full speed. He 
couldn't be older than ten years and had big, brown eyes and long, 
brown curls on his head. Skinner crouched down and opened his arms, 
clearly expecting other boy to jump right into the warm embrace. 
Suddenly Fox was extremely glad that he had just occupied this prime 
position himself though he couldn't say why. He didn't even know who 
this boy was but the sheriff was *his* old meanie!

When the boy was only a few more steps away from Skinner he suddenly 
stopped, his happy smile all but wiped off his face. He swallowed 
convulsively, his eyes darting away from the sheriff and towards the 
ranch house. After a second he took a calming breath, forced a smile 
on his face and approached Skinner with his hand stuck out formally. 
"It's a pleasure to see you again, sir," he said.

Fox was completely stunned by the turn of events but Skinner seemed to 
be unfazed by it all. He just shook hands with the boy and replied, 
"It's good seeing you, too. My, you've grown quite a bit, Jeffrey." He 
smiled reassuringly before he nodded at Fox. "This is William," he 
introduced his rascal to the younger boy. "Rascal, this is Jeffrey 
Spender." Jeffrey took Fox's hand and shook it formally which stunned 
the older boy to no end. He looked at the ranch house and saw a man 
standing on the porch. That man hadn't been there before. Suddenly he 
realized that Jeffrey was looking in the same direction, obviously 
scared. "Everything okay, Jeff?" the sheriff asked the boy, obviously 
knowing that the other man was standing there even though he still 
stood with his back to the ranch house. Jeffrey nodded quickly and 
tried to smile, failing miserably. "Okay then," Skinner said, clearly 
not being okay with any of it. "Rascal, grab the clothes and follow 
me," he added, delivering a tender swat to the boy's backside.

He obeyed and retrieved the bag with the garments from the back of the 
wagon before he joined the sheriff and Jeffrey who were on their way 
to the ranch house. Skinner's right hand immediately came to a rest on 
his rascal's right shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. Fox sighed 
anxiously, not knowing what would happen next.

The old man stepped off the porch and approached the small group. 
"Sheriff, it's such a pleasure. You hardly come out here often 
enough," he said smoothly, a yellow-stained hand waiting to be shaken. 
Fox immediately realized that this man wasn't being honest - from the 
way he had spoken it was obvious that he wished Skinner miles away. 
And that was probably still too close for comfort. Fox frowned. Why 
would anybody want to lie about something like this? Especially a wise 
man like this? He watched Skinner shake hands with the other man, 
exchanging pleasantries. It was also very obvious that Skinner didn't 
like to be here. That puzzled him even more. Why were these people 
saying one thing when they meant something else? Hadn't Skinner told 
him that he wasn't allowed to lie? Then why was the sheriff not being 
honest himself? Fox didn't understand any of this, and he tried to 
come up with an explanation that might solve this mystery. He was so 
focused on the problem at hand that he was startled out of his reverie 
when the sheriff's right hand squeezed his shoulder again, warningly. 
"I said, say hello to Mr. Spender, Rascal," Skinner murmured.

Fox blushed and shook the old man's hand. "I'm sorry, sir," he began. 
"I was admiring your beautiful home. I've never seen anything like 
this before." He looked around, clearly impressed. Then he gave 
Spender a blinding smile. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. 
Spender, sir," he added, the poster-boy of good behavior.

Spender was delighted. He smiled at the sheriff who inwardly sighed in 
relief that once again his rascal's charm had kicked in at the right 
moment. "Let's go inside," he said, waving his arm invitingly at the 
door. "Jeffrey, go tell Maria that we have guests," he added as an 
afterthought, giving his son a non-too-gentle shove to the left where 
a small door at the far end of the porch was leading to the kitchen. 
"And don't steal any cookies, Jeffrey!"

The boy, who was already opening the kitchen door, turned around and 
shook his head slightly. "No, sir," he said softly before he 
disappeared inside.

Fox looked up at Skinner who just squeezed his shoulder reassuringly 
again.

XXXXX

While Fox was amazed by the outside of the ranch house he was totally 
enraptured by the inside. He sat on a plush sofa in the main room, 
staring at the expensive furniture and paintings on the wall. There 
was a lot of shining silver all over the room in the form of 
candleholders and intricately made trays with extremely expensive 
looking crystal carafes on them and picture frames. Everything was 
polished and shiny and utterly and completely intriguing. Fox clutched 
the bag with the stolen clothes to his chest, feeling very much out of 
his depths. Somehow he had to fight the urge to stand back up again 
because he felt not worthy enough to sit on such beautiful furniture. 
Skinner, who sat next to his rascal, saw how fidgety the boy was and 
turned to Spender who throned in a big leather chair, smoking a cigar. 
"William would like to tell you something," he said, nudging his 
rascal encouragingly. Fox sat rooted to the spot, totally scared all 
of a sudden.

Spender smiled indulgently. "Yes, my foreman already told me that 
you'd come by today because there was something you wanted to talk to 
me about. I didn't know it had anything to do with the boy though. Of 
course I've already heard some...stories about him." His smile grew 
wider. Skinner shuddered inwardly. The other man looked at Fox. "So, 
what is it that you want to tell me, son?"

Fox opened his mouth only to close it a second later. He didn't know 
how he was supposed to explain any of this. Back when he had stolen 
the clothes he did so with a very good reason - he was cold and he had 
no other means to get his hands on warm clothing. He could understand 
that Skinner wanted him to apologize for stealing but there clearly 
was no need to bring the garments back - from the looks of it the 
Spenders were by far the richest people around. They could spare some 
clothing easily!

While he was still struggling to find the right words, a maid and 
Jeffrey entered the room, both carrying a tray with coffee and cookies 
on them. Spender smiled again and nodded. "Good. Very good. Maria, 
please don't forget a glass of milk for our young friend here," he 
said, winking at Fox. The boy broke out in a huge grin which faded 
when he looked at a disappointed Jeffrey who had obviously hoped to be 
included as well. The younger boy glanced at Skinner for a moment, 
biting his lower lip. "Now, Jeffrey, I think you should go back to 
your piano lessons. You clearly need more practice!"

Jeffrey fought tears that threatened to spill and swallowed hard. 
"Yes, sir," he mumbled before he turned around and walked into an 
adjacent room. A few seconds later music was floating through the air. 
Fox cocked his head, trying to get a closer look at the piano but he 
couldn't see into the next room. Sighing, he gave up. Not that he knew 
anything about pianos or how they were supposed to sound but what was 
being played sounded just fine to his inexperienced ears. He shrugged 
inwardly. What did he know about that, anyway? When the old man said 
that Jeffrey needed to practice then he sure was right. A 
surreptitious glance in the sheriff's direction confused the boy 
though. From the look on Skinner's face the big man thought that 
Jeffrey was doing just fine as well. Fox frowned. This was all too 
confusing. Why would the sheriff not agree with Spender when the old 
man was so very obviously wiser than Skinner? Fox was glad that Maria 
brought him a glass of milk so he could busy himself with greedily 
drinking the cold liquid, thanking Spender profusely for the 
hospitality afterwards.

XXXXX

It really hadn't been that hard. Fox had just started to talk, 
explaining that he had been looking for his sister and that he had 
needed new clothes. He had seen Jeffrey's clothes on the line, had 
grabbed them and had run away. Fox apologized several times, feeling 
truly wretched and gave the bag to Spender. The old man was clearly 
delighted by the well-mannered boy and shrugged the whole incident 
off. "No harm done," he had said and the matter was closed.

Fox was surprised. The way Skinner had warned him time and again about 
the old man he had expected some sort of monster. Clearly the sheriff 
had no idea who he was dealing with. The boy shrugged mentally and 
continued to nibble away on a big cookie. He was bored out of his 
mind. Both men were discussing non-essential topics and Fox had the 
feeling that they were both saying one thing while meaning something 
else. He had grown tired of trying to decipher what they were *really* 
talking about so he concentrated on the music coming from the next 
room. He didn't dare get up but he turned his head this way and that, 
trying to find something new and interesting. There were so many 
things that just begged to be looked at, touched, investigated...but 
he was sure that he'd get into trouble for that. Not so much from 
Spender but from Skinner.

There was another connecting door off to the right side and Fox could 
see a heavy oak desk through the half-opened door. He was impressed. 
Spender was so rich that the desk had its own room! Skinner's small 
desk was crammed into one corner of the main room! Behind the desk was 
a cupboard with glass doors, displaying old rifles and guns. The boy's 
eyes grew large. He just *had* to see these weapons up close! That 
reminded him of the fact that Skinner had taken away his own gun and 
he decided that he would look for it more closely once they were back 
at the sheriff's cabin.

Fox was so deep in thought that he hadn't realized that the music had 
stopped until Skinner leaned over to look into the adjacent room. 
"That was wonderful, Jeffrey," he said loud enough to be heard in the 
next room. "Why don't you come here and have one of those delicious 
cookies as reward?" he added, this time looking straight at Spender, 
daring him to disagree. Fox was confused. What the hell was that about 
again? Spender just stared back at Skinner, stone-faced. He didn't 
even acknowledge his son when he slowly entered the room, as if 
walking through a mine field. When Jeffrey saw that his father wasn't 
going to yell at him for leaving the piano, he relaxed and went to the 
sheriff.

Skinner grinned at the young boy and gave him a cookie. "I mean it, 
Jeffrey. Your playing has improved considerably! I'm very proud of 
you." He squeezed the boy's hand, receiving a blinding smile in 
return.

"Thank you, sir," Jeffrey replied, clearly surprised and utterly happy 
about the compliment. He turned to his father, taking his life in his 
hands. "May I show Sheriff Skinner the new horses, sir?" he asked 
timidly.

Before Spender could reply, Skinner cut in. "Oh, you've got new 
horses?" he asked, with way too much enthusiasm in his voice. "I'd 
love to see them, Jeffrey! That's a great idea!" He turned to Spender. 
"You don't mind, do you?"

The other man's jaw tightened considerably but after a second he 
tilted his head graciously. "No, not at all," he answered, clearly not 
meaning it.

"Wonderful," Skinner exclaimed, getting up. He grabbed Jeffrey's hand 
and turned to Fox. "Coming, Rascal?" He wasn't going to leave Fox 
behind, not when it meant that the boy was alone with Spender. He knew 
that Jeffrey would probably pay for all of this later on but the 
sheriff wanted to have a few minutes alone with the boy. Skinner 
looked at Fox expectantly.

Fox stared at the sheriff. He would love to go see the horses but he 
also wanted to look at the old weapons...and besides, Skinner seemed 
to act quite strangely while Spender was being really nice to him... 
The boy chanced a quick glance into the den again, looking longingly 
at the treat that waited for him there.

"Maybe young William would like to stay with me," Spender offered, 
smiling sweetly at the sheriff. "I see he's quite intrigued by my 
collection of rifles and guns," he pointed at the connecting door and 
Fox blushed. Had he acted that obvious? "I'd be happy to show him some 
of my weapons while my son shows you our new horses."

Skinner stared at the other man in disbelief. "No, thank you, Mr 
Spender, but I think William will prefer joining us outside. Won't 
you, Rascal?" Skinner turned back to Fox, holding his hand out 
invitingly, waiting for the boy to grab it.

"Actually," Fox began slowly. "I'd prefer looking at the weapons...but 
you can go ahead and take Jeffrey with you. I'll be just fine right 
here." The boy gave the stunned sheriff a reassuring smile and stood 
up to walk to the connecting door, Spender on his heels.

The sheriff was about to go after them when he felt a soft tug on his 
shirt sleeve. He looked down and into the anxious eyes of Jeffrey. 
Damn, he really needed to spend some time with the young boy. He only 
hoped that Spender wouldn't dare do anything stupid. Sighing, he 
ruffled Jeffrey's curls and led him outside.

XXXXX

Jeffrey grabbed the sheriff's hand and led him to the corral. "My 
father's men have been in the mountains a few weeks ago. They brought 
back a lot of wild horses," he said excitedly. "Some of them are 
already broken but there are still a lot of them that are truly wild. 
See?" He pointed at the animals that were peacefully grazing in the 
corral. A few of the horses were galloping alongside the fence. It 
almost looked as if they were playing catch. Jeffrey climbed up the 
fence and sat down on top of it. Skinner stood next to him, watching 
the horses, one hand idly stroking the boy's back. Jeffrey clearly 
seemed to enjoy the attention. "There's one horse that looks like an 
Indian horse. His mother was killed when the cowboys rounded the 
horses up. He really is a tough one for his young age," he added, 
grinning. Then he pointed at a brightly colored foal with patches of 
white, brown and black on his coat. His backside was covered with 
small copper-red dots and his off-white tail was showing gray strands. 
There was fire in his eyes. "I've never seen an Indian before. Do they 
really ride horses like this one?" Jeffrey asked, clearly intrigued.

"I don't know, Jeffrey," Skinner answered truthfully. "I've met a few 
Indians in my life time but they were riding all different kinds of 
horses."

"Oh." The boy contemplated that information for a second then 
shrugged. "Anyway, my father says that this one will never be broken. 
Nobody can even get close to him. I think they might kill him when 
he's not useful." He sighed. "I've named him 'Spirit' because he's so 
wild and he can't be tamed." Jeffrey smiled ruefully and Skinner 
squeezed his shoulder.

"I think that's a very good name," the sheriff said, watching the wild 
foal fight off a much bigger horse with ease.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Jeffrey pointed to a 
black stallion and went on, "I really like this one. I want him but my 
father says that I'll have to earn my horse." He shrugged and looked 
at his hands that were clasped in his lap.

"Earn it?" Skinner asked, aghast. "Earn it how?"

"I have to break my own horse," Jeffrey explained, shrugging.

"But you're too young for that," Skinner protested. "Don't tell me you 
don't have your own horse! Your father owns dozens of them, broken and 
tamed horses. Why wouldn't he allow you to ride one of those?"

"A man has to take care of his own things," the boy quoted his father, 
sighing. "Besides, I'm almost eleven! I can do it!"

"Jeffrey, you could seriously hurt yourself! You could break your 
fingers! What would happen to your playing the piano then, hmm?" 
Skinner shook his head in disbelief.

"Yeah, I guess I really could break my fingers if I fell," Jeffrey 
replied, a broad grin on his face. "That would be too bad, I guess!"

XXXXX

In the meantime, Fox was admiring the wide array of weapons that 
Spender was showing him in the den. The boy was clearly delighted. The 
old man explained in detail where he had purchased each and every gun 
and rifle, what the history behind those weapons was and how much time 
he spent caring for them, cleaning them, polishing them and generally 
loving them to pieces. Fox felt like a kid in a candy store. He had 
never seen weapons as beautiful as the ones in front of him and he 
hardly dared touch some of them.

"I bet your son enjoys those weapons as much as you do. Doesn't he, 
sir?" the boy asked, fingering a butt end made out of mother-of-pearl.

"Oh, good Lord, no," Spender exclaimed. "I don't let Jeffrey near my 
collection! He is such a clumsy boy sometimes. He'd only break 
something!"

Fox looked at Spender wide-eyed. Breaking a gun by accident? Hardly 
likely. But when the old man said so it would very probably be 
correct. Why should he lie? Fox shrugged mentally. "Clumsy? Is that 
why he has that black eye?" he asked instead, turning his attention 
back to the weapon in his hand.

Spender took in a sharp breath, surprised that the boy had seen the 
fading bruises on his son's face. "Why, yes. Of course. He...fell." He 
cleared his throat. "Ever since his mother died, Jeffrey seems to be 
somewhere else with his mind...he never pays attention to what he is 
actually doing. No wonder he falls down stairs or runs into 
furniture."

The boy nodded glumly. "I can understand that, sir," he said softly.

After watching Fox for another minute, Spender picked up an old rifle 
with an intricately crafted metallic adornment on the butt end and 
gave it to the boy. "Thank you, sir," Fox replied, smiling at the man. 
"Thank you so much for showing me all those beautiful weapons."

"You are such a well-mannered boy," Spender said, patting Fox on the 
head. "Would you like to have another cookie?" Fox nodded eagerly, a 
broad grin on his face. Spender went to the main room and came back 
with a cookie in his hand.

"Thank you, sir," Fox said, taking the cookie from Spender and 
devouring it with delight.

"Well-mannered indeed," Spender commented, smiling. He chose his 
favorite gun and showed it to the boy. It took Fox a moment to get his 
emotions under control. The gun looked a lot like his own. There were 
differences in the style but the similarities clearly won out. The boy 
fought back his tears when he remembered what had happened to his own 
gun. "What is it, William?" Spender asked, frowning.

"I...I have a gun that looks like this one," Fox began, choking. "The 
sheriff took it away from me."

"Oh, poor boy you are!"

Fox looked up, stunned. How could he have ever thought that this nice 
man was the monster that Skinner had described? Spender had been nice 
to him all morning, generous and forgiving.

The boy had been taught that old people usually were wise because they 
had seen it all and knew it all, so he was convinced that Spender 
would fall into the same category. Maybe he even knew a way to get his 
gun back! "It's the only thing I had," Fox began slowly. He wasn't 
sure how far he was allowed to go but Spender only nodded 
encouragingly. The boy smiled shyly and continued, "When the sheriff 
arrested me he took the gun away. And even though I'm not in prison 
anymore he still won't give it back to me. He says I won't get it back 
until I have paid for everything...until I have been punished enough." 
He sighed deeply. "But it's the only thing I have! I miss my gun!" he 
added desperately, looking up at Spender for confirmation. The man 
only nodded again.

"Well, I'm really sorry about that," he said, patting the boy's head 
again. "But the only thing I can do is let you look at my collection, 
son." Fox nodded and sighed dejectedly. He knew that Spender would 
help him if he could. Maybe he needed some time to think things 
through before he suggested a solution. After all, he was a wise and 
fair man. Fox decided to ask the sheriff to visit the Spender ranch 
again so he could discuss his problems with the old man more 
thoroughly.

The boy turned back around, facing the desk where the weapons were on 
display. He was completely stunned when he suddenly felt a heavy hand 
on his back roughly shoving him down on top of the desk. Fox was too 
shocked to react when he felt another hand on his pants - the 
suspenders were unfastened, the pants unbuttoned and slid down. "I 
can't believe that one small boy can actually be so preposterous! You 
steal from innocent people, you insidious, bratty, little bastard! 
Sheriff Skinner took you in, fed you, clothed you, and all you can do 
is whine about your stupid gun? I'll teach you some manners, boy!" 
When the small flap on the back of the boy's longjohns was opened, 
revealing his still slightly pink butt, Spender grinned evilly. "Well, 
look at that! I guess good reliable Skinner does know how to take care 
of things," he commented. "Now let's make sure that you learn one 
special lesson really well: Thou shalt not steal!"

A second later, Fox gasped when he felt a white-hot stripe of pain 
exploding on his defenseless butt. He was too shocked to react before 
the second and the third stroke hit home. Then he yelled. Spender 
merely shoved the boy's head down on the desk, continuing to punish 
the bared bottom with his cane. He could already see several distinct 
red welts but he decided that they weren't even close to the number of 
welts he wanted to raise on the butt.

Since the man's other hand was now holding the back of the boy's head, 
Fox was able to push himself off the desk a little. He tried to use 
his right hand to protect himself and yelled even louder when the cane 
relentlessly hit his fingers. Fox sobbed miserably, tears flowing down 
his face. He didn't understand why the nice Mr Spender had suddenly 
turned into a nasty bastard...exactly the kind of man Skinner had told 
him about! The boy realized that the sheriff was too far away to hear 
him and to come and help him so he had to take matters into his own 
hands. Trying to ignore the constant onslaught on his buttocks, he 
grabbed the edge of the desk with both hands, pushed his weight 
forward to have more leverage and then kicked out with all his might. 
His left foot connected soundly with Spender's knee, forcing the man 
to buckle and drop the cane involuntarily.

While Spender held his knee, cursing like a sailor, Fox pushed himself 
off the desk, grabbed his pants and ran out of the den as fast as he 
could, still crying loudly. He didn't know what had just happened but 
he knew that he had to get away from that maniac and his vicious 
torture instrument. And there was only one person he could go to 
now...

XXXXX

Jeffrey had climbed off the fence and now stood next to Skinner, his 
arms resting on one of the beams. He watched the horses galloping by, 
a smile tugging at his lips. He loved it when the sheriff came to 
visit him and he was happy that the big man had found the time to 
actually spend a few minutes alone with him.

"So, are you going to go to school in town now?" Skinner asked the boy 
who shook his head ruefully.

"My father hired a new private tutor for me," Jeffrey sighed. "I would 
really like to go to school with the other children though."

"I'm sure you would," the sheriff replied, ruffling the young boy's 
hair. "And it would do you good to be among people." Not to mention 
make it easier for me to keep track on those injuries of yours, 
Skinner added silently.

"Maybe you could come by more often," Jeffrey suggested, a hopeful 
look in his eyes. "You could bring William. We could play. I'm sure my 
father wouldn't object. He seemed to like him a lot."

"Yes, he did," Skinner said, silently asking himself why exactly that 
was the case. Spender clearly hadn't acted like his usual self. And he 
really didn't like the idea of his rascal spending too much time near 
that old bastard but it would be good for Jeffrey and he would have an 
excuse to drop by more often to keep an eye on things. "Maybe I can 
arrange something."

Jeffrey gave the big man a blinding smile, obviously very pleased. 
Skinner replied with a grin of his own. They were both startled when 
they heard a loud cry from the ranch house and they saw Fox running 
towards them at full speed, one hand clutching his pants.

Before Skinner could do anything he had a bundle of hysterically 
sobbing rascal in his arms. Fox had thrown himself at the sheriff, 
wrapping his arms so tightly around the big man's neck that Skinner 
feared for his air supply. The sheriff wrapped one arm around the 
boy's waist and was about to use the other one to support Fox's legs 
when the boy cried out loud. The big man's arm had brushed against his 
badly beaten butt which was still on display. Fox wrapped his legs 
around Skinner's waist, hugged the big man even closer to his own 
slender body and sobbed his heart out.

Skinner had no idea what had happened but he tried to calm the boy in 
his arms nonetheless. If Fox had leeched himself unto the sheriff the 
night before when he had been carried to bed, he now quite obviously 
tried to crawl inside the big man. Skinner let his arms hang loosely 
by his side - the boy still hung unto him. "What is it, Rascal?" the 
sheriff asked soothingly, one arm going around the boy's waist again, 
the other hand cupping the back of Fox's head. "What is wrong?"

Fox merely sobbed louder until Jeffrey gasped out loud. The younger 
boy had walked around the the sheriff and was able to see the angry 
red welts on Fox's butt. He had been on the receiving end of that cane 
himself more times than he cared to think about but he was positive 
that his bottom had never looked like this. "I...I'll go and get 
some...some ointment that Maria always puts on me when...when...when I 
look like this..." Jeffrey swallowed convulsively before he turned 
around and ran to one of the small buildings off to the right.

The sheriff slowly rocked the crying boy in his arms, stroking the 
long hair soothingly. He remembered the way Fox had looked at him the 
night before with those ancient eyes, suddenly full of trust, when he 
had declared that he wasn't afraid of Spender because he knew that the 
sheriff would keep him safe. Skinner mentally kicked himself. Why had 
he fallen for that stupid act that the old bastard had played? Had he 
really thought, for just one moment, that Spender was a generous and 
forgiving man? He had let the boy down, destroying the tender bond 
that had developed between them. Skinner had been so pleased with 
himself when he had lured Fox into his lap the night before, stupidly 
thinking that the boy would trust him. No matter how often he had 
warned the boy about Spender, it wasn't his rascal's fault. Fox had 
been polite and respectful; a perfect little angel. Who had 
thought...? Skinner hugged the slender body fiercely, determined to 
never let the boy go again. He was surprised by how small Fox was able 
to make himself, as if he was trying to disappear into the sheriff's 
broad chest. "I'm sorry, Rascal, I'm so sorry," the big man repeated 
over and over until he heard a mumbled response.

"Not your fault," the boy whispered into Skinner's shoulder, still 
sobbing. "I deserved it."

"No, you didn't," the sheriff replied forcefully, squeezing Fox 
tightly. "Don't even think that, you hear?" There was no answer from 
the boy except for the occasional hitching sob.

After a long minute Fox whispered, "Are you going to spank me if I 
don't obey?"

Skinner couldn't help himself, he laughed out loud. "You bet," he 
replied, squeezing the boy again.

At that moment Jeffrey returned with a jar of ointment. The sheriff 
smiled at the younger boy reassuringly, nodding his thanks. Jeffrey 
smiled back hesitantly, his eyes never leaving Fox's backside. "Come 
on, Rascal, let go for a minute, okay?" the big man crooned 
soothingly, trying to disentangle himself from long limbs.

Fox held on tight. "No!"

"I promise you I won't leave. I just want to help you. I need to take 
a closer look at the injuries. Please, Rascal." Skinner waited a long 
moment before he gently grabbed the boy's legs, trying to unwrap them 
from around his body. No such luck. "Rascal, I really need to know how 
bad it is. Come on!" The sheriff grew a little impatient, not knowing 
how far he could go with the distraught boy right now. Then he had an 
idea. "Look, Rascal! See all the horses? Come on, you can watch the 
horses while I take a quick peek at your bottom. Okay?" He caressed 
the back of the boy's head again and felt a slight nod. Sighing in 
relief, he helped Fox down. The boy immediately turned to the corral, 
sticking one hand through the beams of the fence while his other one 
held on to Skinner's big paw. Tears were still running down his face 
and an occasional sob escaped his lips. "I'll need my hand, Rascal," 
Skinner murmured, rubbing gentle circles on the boy's back with his 
other hand. Fox didn't react.

Jeffrey walked up to the other boy, pointing to one horse. "See this 
one, William? It's the one I will break one day and then it's going to 
be mine." Fox looked first at the horse, then at Jeffrey, then at the 
horse again. He shook his head. "Oh yes," Jeffrey insisted. "I know 
that he looks mighty big but I can do it!" He nodded once, clearly 
trying to convince himself. "I mean, there are some things that will 
never happen but I *will* ride this horse one day!"

Fox stared at the horse in question, drawing a hitching breath. After 
a long moment, he looked at Jeffrey again. "Like what?"

"Like what?" the other boy repeated blankly.

"Like what," Fox nodded. "Some things that will never happen. Like 
what?"

"Oh. Like..." Jeffrey frowned in concentration before he pointed at 
the brightly colored foal. "Like Spirit over there. He'll never be 
tamed."

As if Spirit had heard the conversation, he picked his head up and 
looked in the direction of the boys. Fox glanced at him, wiping tears 
from his eyes with the hand that wasn't clutching Skinner's paw. After 
a few seconds, the foal slowly walked over to the fence until it stood 
right in front of Fox. Jeffrey gasped in surprise and took a cautious 
step back, remembering the times this horse had thrown and injured 
big, experienced cowboys.

Fox merely reached out one hand and waited. The foal cocked his head 
as if contemplating his next move before he took one last step, 
nudging the offered palm with his warm nose. The boy smiled 
hesitantly, all tears forgotten, and released Skinner's other hand to 
cup Spirit's head from both sides.

The sheriff held his breath, waiting to grab his rascal and yank him 
out of harm's way if need be, but relaxed when he realized that one 
wild animal had apparently tamed another. He took advantage of his 
freed hands to apply a generous amount of ointment on the boy's badly 
beaten butt, feeling his anger rise with every second. Fox was in pain 
but he endured the process without complaint, holding on to Spirit's 
strong neck. His tear flow slowly ebbed until he even stopped the 
hitching sobs.

When Skinner was finished, he gently dressed his rascal again, 
apologizing several times when the boy gasped out loud. Spirit, 
realizing that his work was done, whinnied once before he turned 
around and wandered off. Fox straightened up and wiped another tear 
away. The sheriff hugged him fiercely. "You are such a brave boy," he 
said with a husky voice. "I'm so proud of you." He sighed in relief 
when he felt the boy's arms tightening around his waist. Still holding 
his rascal close, he turned to the other boy. "Thank you so much for 
your help, Jeffrey. I couldn't have done it without you." He smiled at 
the boy and received a hesitant grin in return.

The smile faded when he saw Spender emerging from the ranch house. Fox 
felt Skinner's body stiffen and turned around to see what was wrong. 
The sight of the other man made him tremble and he hugged the sheriff 
fiercely. It was pretty obvious that the big man wanted to go and do 
something to Spender but Fox wouldn't let him go. "I just want to go 
home, please," he said softly, looking up at Skinner with wide, hazel 
eyes. "Please."

Something in those hazel eyes seemed to penetrate the sheriff's anger 
because Skinner visibly relaxed and even managed a slight smile. 
"Okay, Rascal. We'll go home. Come on." The big man wrapped an arm 
around the boy's shoulders and led him to the wagon. "Jeffrey, would 
you help William here? I just want to talk to your father for a 
minute." He squeezed Fox's shoulder reassuringly before the boy could 
say something. "I promise it'll only be a minute. Then we'll leave. 
Okay?"

Fox looked into the big man's chocolate brown eyes and swallowed 
nervously. "Okay," he said hesitantly, not at all sure that he should 
let the sheriff go. Jeffrey walked up to him and helped him climb up 
to the high seat which caused him to gasp out loud more than once 
because the fabric of his longjohns chafed his aching butt. He thanked 
the other boy for his help, suddenly wondering if the fading black eye 
really had been the result of a clumsy fall down the stairs.

Skinner approached a smugly smiling Spender, his hands clenched into 
tight fists. "You son of a bitch," he hissed through gritted teeth. 
"How dare you touch the boy?"

Spender only made a tsking noise and shook his head in mock surprise. 
"That little bastard stole my property. I think it's well within my 
rights to punish him."

"You beat him half to death!" Skinner yelled angrily but Spender's 
smile only widened.

"Don't be so melodramatic, Sheriff. I merely took a cane to his butt. 
And from what I saw, you've punished him the same way before."

"I haven't caned him and I never will. You had no right to lay a 
finger on him and I'll make you pay for that!"

"Oh, really?" Spender raised a mocking eyebrow. "You and what army? 
Think about it for a moment, my dear Mr Skinner. What judge would take 
the little thief's side and not mine? Me, a respected, honorable 
citizen of this town." He took a drag from his cigar. "I don't think 
your young friend stands a chance."

Skinner seethed. He knew that the old bastard was right - the only 
thing he could do was make sure that Spender would never be around Fox 
again. He straightened up, hands on hips. "Let's just say that *you* 
wouldn't stand a change against *me* so keep that in mind. Have a good 
day." He turned around and stepped off the porch. Then he stopped and 
looked back. "One more thing, though. If I should ever see that you're 
abusing your own son again I'll find a way to make you pay." He 
pointed a blunt finger at Spender. "Don't touch Jeffrey again. I'm 
warning you." And with that, he quickly walked to his wagon, climbed 
up and directed Buck to the road that would take them away from the 
Spender ranch.

XXXXX

Fox sat next to the sheriff, staring straight ahead. Skinner berated 
himself for the way he had let his rascal down. There was just no way 
that the boy could trust him anymore - if he ever did!

Skinner tried to maneuver the wagon on even ground but they hit a bump 
on the road on occasion, making the boy squirm in his seat 
uncomfortably. Jeffrey had folded the old horse blanket that he had 
found in the back of the wagon and put it on the high seat for Fox to 
sit upon. Even though the blanket did cushion the ride a little, the 
boy still felt every big stone that they hit. The sheriff watched with 
growing concern how his rascal stubbornly endured the rocky ride until 
they hit a rather large pot-hole causing Fox to wince loudly. Skinner 
finally had enough. He stopped the wagon and turned to the boy. "Stand 
up, Rascal," he said.

The boy looked at the big man wide-eyed but slowly got to his feet, 
turning around to face the sheriff. Skinner sighed deeply and took out 
a handkerchief which he wetted with some water from the canteen that 
he had brought along. He gently wiped the boy's tear-streaked face, 
soothing the swollen eyes with the cold water. Fox gave a small, 
contented sigh when he felt his hot, blotched cheeks cooling off a 
little. Skinner wetted his handkerchief again and repeated his 
soothing administrations until the boy's face looked somewhat more 
presentable. Fox gave him a grateful little smile.

"Better, Rascal?" Fox nodded and gave a surprised squeak when Skinner 
grabbed him under his arms and lifted him up and over the seat, 
depositing him in the back of the wagon. "I know this isn't the most 
comfortable way to travel," the sheriff commented, draping the blanket 
over the hard back of the seat for Fox to lean against, "but I think 
it's better than sitting down right now."

Fox nodded eagerly, a shy smile crossing his face. "Thank you," he 
said. "I think you're right." He leaned forward, resting against the 
blanket. "Oh yes, this is much better," he commented, quite happy with 
his new position.

"Good. I'm glad," Skinner replied smiling. He sat back down, grabbed 
Buck's reins and ordered his horse to move.

Fox watched his surroundings more closely again, now that his aching 
bottom wasn't distracting him so much. Even though he had already seen 
this part of the country on their way to the Spender ranch he kept his 
eyes open, trying to find something new, something he hadn't seen 
before. After several minutes he grew tired of the game, realizing 
that he had memorized his surroundings already too well to be 
surprised by something new. He leaned a little closer to the sheriff 
and watched the big man out of the corners of his eyes. Skinner's jaw 
was clenched tight and he sat quite stiffly. Fox was intrigued - why 
would the sheriff be angry? He tried to come up with something that he 
might have done wrong, something that Skinner might be mad at, but he 
couldn't come up with anything. The boy had tried really hard to 
behave in front of Spender and he was sure that Skinner couldn't find 
anything at fault with his behavior. He would never in a million years 
think that the big man was beating himself up, desperately trying to 
come up with a way to make it up to the boy. For Fox, the entire trip 
was rather adventurous - he was glad to be outdoors, in the fresh air 
and warm sunlight. He had met a new friend in Jeffrey, he had seen a 
wide array of beautiful weapons and horses...

Skinner almost jumped out of his skin when he felt the boy's head 
coming to a rest on his shoulder. He looked down at the brown hair 
next to him, smiling broadly. Fox had inched closer, stood right next 
to the sitting sheriff now, leaning close. Skinner sighed in relief - 
he had no idea why but apparently his rascal held no grudge against 
him. They stayed that way for another few minutes until the boy 
whispered, "I've learned something today."

The sheriff raised a surprised eyebrow. "You have?" The head on his 
shoulder nodded. "What did you learn, Rascal?"

"You were right."

"I was? About what?"

Fox sighed and lifted his head to look into the sheriff's eyes. "About 
respect. Mr Spender is not worthy of my respect. I will never show him 
any respect, ever again!"

Skinner opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out. The boy was 
right, of course. That old bastard should do everybody a favor and 
break his damned neck but the sheriff didn't want the boy to not be 
respectful to others - what he had tried to teach him was to be 
respectful to everybody, no matter how much a bastard they might be. 
On the other hand, he would make sure that Spender would never get 
close to Fox again so he couldn't care less about the respect issue in 
that regard. Not knowing what to say, Skinner decided to make light of 
the situation. "Yeah, he's an old meanie, isn't he?" he said, smiling 
slightly.

"No," Fox replied forcefully, shaking his head adamantly. Skinner was 
surprised by the outburst. The boy smiled shyly and added softly, "You 
are my Old Meanie...Spender is just old and mean." Then he rested his 
head against Skinner's shoulder again. The sheriff just about burst 
with pride when he heard those words. "From now on I will only show 
respect to people who I think have earned it, no matter how old or 
young they are," Fox explained with one final nod of his head. For 
him, the matter was now closed.

The sheriff sighed inwardly. That was *not* what he wanted the boy to 
think. He really needed to talk to him about this. Being respectful 
was just part of a good upbringing but Fox had already stated quite 
adamantly that he would never call a person 'sir' or 'madam' when he 
deemed them unworthy of such a title. Skinner sighed. He decided to 
give the boy a break for now. After all, his rascal had taken a good 
first step. They could tackle the issue when they had more time - and 
the boy's bottom wasn't hurting like the dickens.

Skinner took both reins in his left hand, turned around a little to 
face the boy next to him and slowly, so he wouldn't startle Fox, 
wrapped his right arm around the slender shoulders. Fox smiled 
gratefully and nestled closer. They stayed that way for several 
minutes until Skinner spoke up. "I'm really sorry for what happened, 
Rascal. It was the right thing to do to bring you to the Spender ranch 
so you could apologize and explain yourself but I should've never left 
you alone. What that man did to you was wrong. Don't think for a 
minute that you deserved that. And it certainly wasn't your fault that 
it happened. I'm so sorry that you had to endure this beating." He 
squeezed the boy's shoulders but Fox shrugged.

"It's okay. Wasn't that bad," he mumbled, clearly overwhelmed by the 
sheriff's words. "But don't make me go back there! I don't want to see 
him again." He looked up, pleading eyes on the sheriff. "Besides, 
there's no need for me to see him again, is there? I mean, I've 
apologized to him and I'm sure that he won't apologize to me for what 
he did."

The big man tried hard not to laugh out loud. The mere idea of Spender 
apologizing to anyone, let alone his rascal, was just too absurd. 
"Don't worry, son, I won't let him near you again," he reassured the 
boy, rubbing his hand soothingly up and down the boy's arm. Fox nodded 
once, glad that this was taken care of. He turned his face up, 
squinting into the bright sun, a happy smile on his face. Skinner 
watched the boy for a few minutes, glad that he didn't seem too 
traumatized by the events. Finally he nudged Fox gently, offering the 
reins. "Do you want to try it, Rascal?" he asked, almost laughing out 
loud when he saw the shocked expression on the boy's face. "No, I mean 
it. Do you want to drive the wagon?"

Fox stared at the big man in disbelief, then his eyes slowly wandered 
to the huge paw in front of him, offering the reins. Buck was 
completely oblivious to what was happening behind him; he knew where 
they were heading and he couldn't care less who was holding the reins. 
The boy locked eyes with the sheriff, trying to find out whether or 
not the big man was kidding or not. After scrutinizing Skinner for 
several long moments, he decided that the offer was genuine and a 
broad smile lit up with entire face. Skinner thought he'd kill to see 
this smile again. "Yes, sir," Fox said, grabbing the reins 
enthusiastically.

Skinner sat there, completely stunned. Had the boy just called him 
'sir'? Must've been a slip of the tongue. He shook himself mentally, 
trying to stop being so giddy, and decided to just wait what the 
future would bring. The big man stroked the boy's abundant hair once, 
receiving another shy smile as reward, before he grabbed his rascal's 
small hands. "You have to hold them between the index and the middle 
finger," he explained, adjusting the long fingers around the reins.

"Like this?" Fox looked up eagerly, trying to get this hands to 
cooperate.

"Exactly like this," Skinner nodded, smiling proudly. "You're a 
natural, Rascal. Now all you have to do is watch what Buck is doing 
and use the reins to tell him where you want him to go." To 
demonstrate what he meant, Skinner covered the boy's left hand and 
tugged at the rein. Buck immediately responded. Fox nodded his 
understanding, completely engrossed in his new job. The sheriff sat 
back and watched the concentrated look on the boy's face. He smiled 
fondly. It was always a surprise how much Fox seemed to appreciate the 
smallest things. Judging by the blinding smile the boy had given him 
when he had been offered the reins, his rascal seemed to have received 
a truly precious gift. It utterly amazed the big man to no end.

He was contemplating his next move when he was startled back into 
reality by the abrupt stop of the wagon. They stood at a cross-roads. 
Skinner looked at Fox who just calmly looked back. "I know that your 
cabin is this way," the boy explained, pointing to the right. "But I 
don't know where exactly the town is where I stole the boots." The 
sheriff gaped at the boy in disbelief. He had been trying to come to a 
decision about that, arguing with himself that what had happened to 
the boy was reason enough to just go back home and spoil him a little, 
no matter how much he still needed to apologize and pay for the stolen 
boots when his rascal matter-of-factly told him that he wanted to get 
it over with and be done with it. Skinner shook his head in disbelief, 
trying to find his voice again.

"You are an amazing boy," he managed to stammer. Fox blushed and 
dropped his eyes. "Are you sure that you don't want to go home?"

"No," Fox replied softly. "I want to go and apologize. But please 
don't make me stay there any longer than necessary, okay?" The boy 
looked up with pleading eyes and Skinner's heart melted instantly.

"I promise you that we'll be in and out before you know it, Rascal," 
he said, hugging the boy. "I'm very proud of you." Fox blushed again 
and ordered Buck to move when Skinner pointed to the left. "As soon as 
we're done in Eastville we'll go home. There's a surprise waiting for 
you, remember?"

The boy grinned. "Yeah, and do *you* remember that if I don't like it 
you'll have to do the dishes for a week?"

Skinner laughed out loud and ruffled the boy's hair affectionately. 
"Yes, I remember. And I will do the dishes though I'm positive that 
you're going to like the surprise." Fox eyed him warily, deciding that 
it had to be the very best surprise ever or he would just claim to not 
enjoy it. Because he sure as hell would enjoy watching the big man 
washing dirty plates!

XXXXX

Shortly before they entered Eastville Skinner took over the reins, 
maneuvering the wagon down Main Street with practiced ease. Since he 
had only guessed from the vague description Fox had given that the boy 
had stolen the boots in Eastville he turned to his rascal and asked, 
"So, does this look familiar to you?"

Fox nodded, suddenly nervous. "Yes, that's the town I was in." He 
looked around, then pointed at a little corner shop similar to the 
Scully store. "This is where I...where the boots are from," he said 
softly.

Skinner nodded and ordered Buck to stop in front of the store. He 
jumped off the wagon and walked to his horse, tethering him to a cross 
beam next to a water trough. "There you go, boy," he said to his horse 
affectionately, patting his strong neck. "Have a drink." Then he 
turned back to see that Fox was busy wrapping his book in the old 
blanket. Skinner smiled slightly and walked back to the wagon. "What 
are you up to?" he asked, the smile turning into a grin.

The boy looked at the sheriff sheepishly. "I just want to make sure 
that nobody...steals the book," he said, blushing furiously when he 
realized that he was in this town to apologize for doing exactly that. 
Skinner laughed good-naturedly and shook his head. Fox hid the folded 
blanket under the seat, making sure that it couldn't easily be 
detected. Then he turned around and looked down at the sheriff who 
patiently waited next to the wagon.

"Ready?" the big man asked. Fox nodded hesitantly. He took a calming 
breath, telling himself that he had wanted to come here to get it over 
with, before he willingly jumped into the waiting arms of the sheriff. 
"Relax, Rascal. I promise nothing will happen to you," Skinner said 
soothingly. The boy nodded again, smiling shyly.

The sheriff finger-combed the boy's long hair that had been tousled by 
the wind and Skinner's ruffling hand. Then he straightened the shirt 
collar and vest, tugging the shirt tail into the pants and readjusting 
the suspenders. Fox blushed, realizing that complete strangers were 
able to watch his being treated like a little kid but he didn't 
object. Actually, he thought it was kind of reassuring that the big 
man took such good care of him. He bit his lips to stop the smile that 
threatened to break out all over his face.

When Skinner thought that Fox looked somewhat presentable again, he 
put his hand on the boy's shoulder and squeezed it. "You are a very 
brave boy and I'm proud of you, Rascal," he said. "Now, let's go and 
get this over with." He gave the boy a reassuring smile and led him to 
the shop.

Fox took another calming breath before he climbed the steps to the 
shop's door, the sheriff right behind him. The boy opened the door, 
looking around - and stopped dead in his tracks. Behind the counter 
stood a young woman who couldn't be older than eighteen. She had long 
blonde, almost white, hair but the same blue eyes and myriads of 
freckles on her nose as Miss Dana did. When she looked up to see who 
had entered the shop, she broke out into a friendly smile that made 
Fox gasp. She did have a striking resemblance to his Miss Dana, no 
doubt about it. He blushed again and looked at the floor.

Skinner chuckled softly, interpreting his rascal's reaction quite 
correctly. He had also seen the similarities between these two women 
when he had entered the shop and he knew how much Fox adored Dana 
Scully. He was surprised that the boy had managed to steal anything 
when he was so obviously enraptured by the person behind the counter. 
He gently shoved Fox into the shop so he could finally close the door, 
and smiled at the young woman.

"Hello, Sheriff," the woman greeted the big man, looking at his badge. 
"How may I help you and your...son?" She glanced at Fox with a 
question in her eyes. The boy blushed further but didn't comment which 
in turn stunned Skinner to no end. He stroked the back of the boy's 
head once before he walked up to the counter, extending his hand.

"I'm Sheriff Skinner from Independence," he introduced himself.

"Oh, *the* Sheriff Skinner," the woman replied excitedly. "I've heard 
a lot about you. Everybody's talking about you. I guess you could say 
that you're a legend around here." She smiled at him, clearly 
delighted to have such a famous customer. Fox's ears pricked up at 
that. There must've been something going on that he knew nothing 
about. And if there was one thing he didn't like, then it was an 
unsolved mystery. The young woman shook Skinner's hand. "My name is 
Mary. How may I help you, sir?"

Skinner, who was quite flustered by the unexpected praise, cleared his 
throat before he asked, "Have you reported a theft lately?"

Mary's eyes grew large. "A theft? No, I don't think I have. Why?"

The sheriff looked down at Fox who had buried himself into the big 
man's chest, an unspoken question in his eyes. "It was this store," 
the boy whispered before he pointed at the window. "See?" Skinner's 
eyes followed his rascal's finger until he saw a pair of boots that 
looked identical to the ones the boy was wearing.

The big man turned back to Mary. "Are you sure that nothing has been 
stolen lately? A pair of boots, maybe?"

The young woman shook her head again, thinking hard. Then she suddenly 
remembered something. "About a week ago I came in to take over from my 
father who owns this store," she began, walking over to the window and 
picking up the pair of boots that were on display there. "We have only 
one pair of shoes in the shop at all times. The rest of them are in 
the back. So, when we sell a pair we usually give the customers a pair 
from the stockroom. I remember that I saw a pair of boots missing and 
thought that my father had sold the last pair. When I went to the 
stockroom later on for something else I found another pair," she held 
up the boots that had been on display in the window, "and brought them 
to the front. I thought at the time that my father hadn't found them 
in the back." She shrugged. "He never mentioned any stolen boots. 
Why?"

Skinner nodded his understanding. The story made perfect sense. He 
looked at his rascal who was nervously chewing his bottom lip and gave 
him a gentle nudge. Fox looked up, startled. Then the boy gave a deep 
sigh and turned towards Mary. "I stole the pair of boots," he said 
softly, pointing at his feet. The young woman gasped. "I didn't want 
to do it and I'm very sorry that I did. But when I saw them in the 
window I just had to have them. Back then I didn't have anything to 
wear and my feet were hurting mighty bad." He looked at the floor and 
bit his lip again.

The sheriff squeezed the boy's shoulder reassuringly again and added, 
"When I picked him up a few days later he told me what he had done. 
That's why we came here. To apologize and to pay for the stolen item. 
You can rest assured that the boy has been punished for what he did. I 
was hoping that you would refrain from pressing charges, ma'am."

Mary just looked at the slender figure that was seeking protection in 
the broad chest of the sheriff and her heart went out to the boy. 
"So...he's not your son?" she asked.

"No, ma'am," Skinner replied, smiling slightly. His hand came to rest 
on the back of the boy's head again, his thumb stroking up and down 
soothingly. "But he's in my custody at the moment so ultimately I am 
responsible for him."

The young woman gazed at Fox for several long moments. There was no 
way that she could press charges. If the Sheriff hadn't shown up with 
the boy to report the theft she would've never even known! Besides, 
the youth seemed to be in good hands, and since Skinner had already 
asked her not to press charges... "If you pay for the boots we will 
forget that anything ever happened," she said, breaking out in a smile 
when she saw Fox's eyes grow wide in surprise.

"That's very generous of you, ma'am," Skinner said, taking out his 
wallet. He nudged the completely stunned boy in front of him.

Fox snapped out of his reverie. "Um, yeah. Very generous. Thank you." 
He smiled shyly at Mary, causing her to blush. The boy had no idea 
what an impression he had made on the young woman.

He watched Skinner, paying close attention to the way the sheriff 
counted out loud every dollar and cent he placed in Mary's hand. The 
boy swallowed convulsively. That seemed to be a whole lot of money to 
him and he asked himself how he was supposed to ever earn enough money 
to repay the sheriff.

When the big man started a chat with Mary the boy grew bored and 
decided to take a closer look at the displayed items. Slowly wandering 
through the store, he perused the folded clothing lying on the shelves 
and hanging on racks. There were beautifully tailored dresses 
displayed on life sized dummies, hats hanging on the wall and scarves 
thrown over a crossbeam in the middle of the room. Fox let his hand 
slide idly through the scarves, enjoying the silky feeling of them. 
Suddenly, he turned around, a broad smile on his face. "Look," he 
exclaimed happily, causing both Mary and Skinner to jump. "We have to 
take this with us!" Fox looked at the big man pleadingly, a silky 
scarf with tiny red roses on it in his hands. "It's perfect for Rose!"

Skinner smiled indulgently but shook his head. "No, Rascal. You don't 
have any money to buy it and I'm not willing to lend you more money. 
I'm sorry but you'll just have to accept that you can't always have 
what you want."

Fox pouted and sighed deeply. Damn, but he really wanted to bring his 
Rose something nice from his trip. Mary shared a compassionate look 
with the sheriff who beckoned the boy over. After a long moment Fox 
complied, dragging his feet over to where the big man stood. When he 
felt Skinner's paw ruffling his hair affectionately he couldn't help 
but break out into a grin. "But when I've earned enough money then 
we'll come back here and buy the scarf for Rose, won't we?" he asked, 
looking up with hopeful eyes.

"Maybe we will, Rascal, maybe we will. Now, how about you say good-bye 
to Mary and wait for me outside?"

The boy turned to the young woman and shook her hand solemnly. 
"Good-bye, Mary. I'll see you again when I come back to buy the 
scarf." He grinned shyly before he turned and ran to the door. "Oh, 
and thanks again. For...for not getting me into more trouble." He 
waved quickly, then ran outside.

Mary laughed out loud. "He is such an endearing boy," she commented, 
shaking her head in wonder. "I'm sure you'll take good care of him. I 
think he deserves someone who loves him."

Skinner's eyebrows shot up when he heard that. Not that he didn't like 
the boy but loving him seemed to be a little...extreme. Then again, 
Fox had grown on him so quickly there was just no way of knowing what 
the future would bring. "I'll try my best," he replied, bowing 
slightly. "Thank you for being so understanding."

"Anytime, Sheriff."

The big man turned back around to face Mary one last time, open door 
already in his hand. "Oh, and could you put the scarf aside for us? We 
might just drop by again sometime soon," he announced, winking. He 
gave Mary a friendly smile that widened when she agreed to do so.

XXXXX

Fox stood next to Buck, rubbing his friend's nose gently. "As soon as 
the Old Meanie is back we'll go home and you'll finally get out of 
that horrible harness," he crooned softly into the horse's ears. Buck 
whinnied, clearly looking forward to his stable and some fresh hay.

"Well, the Old Meanie is back," Skinner growled into the boy's right 
ear, causing Fox to jump guiltily. The sheriff laughed and ruffled the 
boy's hair again. "Come on, Rascal, it's getting late," he said, 
planting his right hand on Fox's shoulder and leading him to the 
wagon. The boy gave a surprised squeak when he was lifted into the 
back of the wagon but grinned his thanks to the sheriff. Skinner 
retrieved Buck's reins and sat down on the high seat, ordering his 
horse to move. Fox leaned in close to the big man again, enjoying the 
afternoon sun on his face. He sighed in relief, knowing that a big 
weight had just been lifted from his heart. Now all he had to do was 
work for the Scullys long enough to earn some money, repay the sheriff 
and then go and find his sister. All things considered, including his 
aching butt, he certainly had had worse days in his life.

The boy grinned happily when Skinner relinquished the reins to Fox as 
soon as they left the town and he felt a strong arm being wrapped 
around his shoulders.

XXXXX

The sheriff stopped the wagon in front of his cabin and jumped to the 
ground. "I'll take care of Buck while you go inside and change into 
something more comfortable," he said to Fox who pulled a face.

"But *I* want to take care of Buck," the boy whined, coming close to 
stomping his foot in frustration. Two days in a row! He had been 
allowed to feed the horse in the morning, so why was the sheriff so 
pig-headed again all of a sudden? "Is that what you call a pleasant 
surprise?"

Skinner laughed and shook his head. "You will like your surprise, 
Rascal. Now stop pouting and come here," he said, opening his arms 
invitingly. The boy glanced at the big man balefully before he sighed 
and jumped into the waiting embrace. The sheriff tickled his ribcage 
quickly, eliciting a fit of giggles from Fox. "Now go and get ready," 
he added with a mock growl, pointing at the cabin. The boy sighed 
again, stomped his foot for show but walked to the cabin anyway. 
Skinner grinned, shook his head again and began to free his horse from 
the harness.

Fox entered his alcove, muttering to himself. He decided to most 
definitely not like whatever Skinner had planned, just to spite the 
big man. And to make him wash the dirty dishes for a week. He slowly 
undressed himself, sighing in relief when he was finally naked, and 
threw the suspenders into the far corner just to make him feel better. 
It worked, he realized with a satisfied smile. The boy grabbed the 
flannel shirt and put it on, happy that it was slightly too big for 
him so he had more room to move his arms. When the shirt's hemline 
touched his abused backside he bit back a whimper. Damn, but his 
buttocks had to look horrible! Fox tried to get a good look at his 
posterior, peeking over his shoulder, but he could only make out a red 
area and two welts that had missed their target so they had wrapped 
around and bit into his hips. The boy sighed and threw himself on top 
of his bed. The cool air wafting over his butt felt so good...he 
closed his eyes, sighing contentedly, and concentrated on the way the 
throbbing in his bottom became less severe by the second...

XXXXX

The boy woke up with a start and looked around, trying to get his 
bearings. Skinner stood next to the bed, chuckling softly. "Back among 
the living?" the big man inquired. Fox glared at him for a moment 
before he turned around and sat up. He didn't think about his injured 
butt and gave a surprised squeak when a jolt of pain radiated through 
his body. Skinner sighed and sat down on the boy's bed. "Come here, 
Rascal," he said, patting his knees. Fox stared at him in disbelief 
and shook his head adamantly. The sheriff chuckled. "I don't want to 
spank you, boy. I want to take a closer look at your injuries. There's 
an ointment that might help," he added, holding up a jar with salve 
that looked similar to the one Jeffrey had offered. "I use it when I 
have blisters from working with wood or in case of severe sun burns. 
Now, come on!"

Fox cocked his head, thinking that he didn't want the sheriff near his 
butt no matter what for but he decided that the ointment had helped 
minimize the pain so he shrugged mentally and walked over to the big 
man. Skinner gently helped him over his lap, examining the abused area 
critically. "I'm so sorry this happened to you, Rascal," he murmured, 
applying a general amount of ointment. Fox gasped when he felt the 
cool salve on his buttocks but blissed out when the desired effect 
kicked in almost immediately - the throbbing heat subsided 
considerably. Skinner made sure that the entire blistered area was 
covered with the healing salve before he let the boy up. He gave Fox a 
quick squeeze, murmuring, "Such a brave boy," before ordering his 
Rascal to get dressed and meet him outside.

XXXXX

A few minutes later Fox emerged from the cabin, clad in his jeans and 
the beloved big flannel shirt. "Now what?" he asked sulkily, eyeing 
the huge bag and the two fishing rods Skinner was holding.

"Now it's time for the surprise," the sheriff announced, grinning 
broadly. He beckoned the boy over and thrust the fishing rods in his 
hands. "Let's go," he added cheerily, planting his big paw on the 
boy's right shoulder and leading him towards the river.

Fox didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. When the sheriff had 
mentioned a surprise he had never thought about an afternoon spent 
fishing with the big man. And really, what was so fantastic about 
sitting around for hours on end waiting until a damned fish was stupid 
enough to bite? The boy saw Skinner in his mind's eye, washing heaps 
of dirty dishes, and he started to giggle uncontrollably.

Skinner stared at the boy next to him, raising one eyebrow. "Care to 
share?" he asked, smiling. Fox just shook his head, desperately trying 
to stop the fit of giggles. The sheriff shrugged his shoulders, 
deciding to ignore the snickering. "Well, I've already told you that 
even though there are plenty of fish in this lake there were times 
when I spent hours without catching even one so we might have to whip 
up something else...but I'm positive that we're going to be lucky 
today!" He ruffled the boy's hair tenderly. "You're my lucky charm!" 
Fox gave the big man a speculative glance, privately thinking that the 
sheriff hadn't been too lucky the last few days but he decided not to 
call him on that. Let him think whatever he wants, he said to himself. 
He'll probably get to his senses soon enough.

XXXXX

They climbed the small hill behind the sheriff's cabin and walked down 
the other side, Skinner directing them to the right. Fox glanced to 
the left side of the lake, seeing the old tree that he had used as a 
diving board, and grinned inwardly. No matter how much that stupid 
sheriff told him not to climb that tree again he just knew that he and 
Alex would meet there again; preferably pretty soon.

The big man saw the boy's sparkling eyes and immediately knew what he 
was thinking. "I was serious when I told you that this tree is 
off-limits, Rascal," he warned Fox. "Jumping off that branch is too 
dangerous. If I ever see you near that tree again I *will* spank you." 
The boy's head jerked up and he stared at the sheriff wide-eyed. How 
dare he threaten him with a spanking after the beating he had endured 
only hours ago? "I'm sorry, Rascal, but I mean it. Don't think for a 
second that I'll never spank you again. What happened at the Spender 
ranch was horrible and I'm truly sorry that you were hurt so badly but 
you have to admit that there is a big difference between what old 
Spender did and what I do." Skinner locked eyes with the boy who 
chewed on his bottom lip nervously. After a few long moments he 
nodded.

"Yeah, there's a difference," Fox muttered, staring at his boots.

Skinner ruffled the boy's hair and sighed in relief. "Good," he said 
matter-of-factly. "And now let's change the subject. It's really too 
depressing to talk about punishments. And besides, I know that you are 
a good boy who rarely needs a spanking." He grinned and ruffled Fox's 
hair again. The boy gave him a withering look that spoke volumes, 
making the sheriff laugh out loud. "What? Don't tell me you think I've 
been too lenient with you?"

Fox gaped at the big man open-mouthed. "Absolutely not," he said with 
conviction in his voice. There was no doubt that the boy thought 
Skinner shouldn't even dream of being stricter.

"Then that's settled," Skinner commented. He took a deep breath, 
enjoying the fresh air. "So, have you ever gone fishing before?" he 
asked the boy.

Fox hesitated for a moment before he nodded. Then he looked at the 
rods in his hand, frowning. How was he supposed... The boy didn't have 
time to ask any question that might've been on his mind because they 
had arrived exactly where Skinner had planned.

There was a weeping willow close to the lake, its long, slender 
branches hanging into the water. Close to the tree was a jetty 
reaching about ten yards into the water, the wood weather-beaten but 
still sturdy. It was a secluded little corner of the lake and Fox 
instantly loved the place. The sheriff led him to the edge of the 
jetty, opened his bag, pulled out the throw pillow that was normally 
propped up in the old leather chair and threw it down. "Okay, Rascal, 
remove your boots and socks and then sit down," Skinner said, 
undressing himself the same way. Fox looked at the sheriff for a 
second, frowning. When he saw that the big man plunged his bare feet 
into the lake he understood what he was supposed to do and obeyed, 
plopping down on the pillow and dangling his feet over the edge of the 
jetty. The sheriff grabbed the fishing poles and handed one to Fox. 
"Okay," he said, grinning broadly. "And now we're gonna catch our 
supper!"

The boy observed every move Skinner made and imitated him, throwing 
the fishing line into the water. And waited. He could see the fish 
swimming close to them; sometimes they were even cocky enough to come 
to the water surface. But no matter how long Skinner and Fox sat 
there, not one fish bit. The boy grew bored and began to swing his 
legs back and forth, splashing the water. "You do know that this will 
drive the fish away," Skinner commented. "They'll never bite that 
way."

"Oh, and that would make a big difference, wouldn't it?" the boy 
retorted, annoyed. "I mean, it's not like we needed more fish. Look at 
what we've caught already. We could never eat all of them at once!"

The sheriff sighed. "Look, Rascal," he said, trying to sound calm. "I 
already told you that they don't always bite. I just thought that you 
would enjoy sitting here with me. I thought you liked the lake. I 
thought you liked being outdoors. And I hoped that you'd like spending 
some time with me. At least a little."

Fox looked up, stunned. He had clearly hurt the big man's feelings and 
that had never been his intention. "I'm sorry," he mumbled softly, 
looking into the water. "It's not that bad."

Skinner sighed. That clearly wasn't working. "Okay, listen. I'll go 
and make a fire over there," he said, pointing with his thumb over his 
shoulder into the general direction of the weeping willow. "I've 
brought food with me in the bag so we won't have to starve." He got up 
and placed his rod on the jetty. "You can come with me if you want," 
he added. "Or you can stay until I call you. Maybe you're gonna catch 
a fish after all." The big man smiled sadly and slowly walked back to 
the tree, the bag in his hand.

The boy watched him go, feeling wretched. He did like it here and it 
had been nice sitting here next to the big man, just enjoying each 
other's company in companionable silence. Even though he had no idea 
what kind of surprise he had expected, going fishing wasn't even 
close. He wiggled a little, noting that his butt began to hurt more 
after sitting around for several hours. The boy threw down the rod and 
got up. The man wanted a fish, he would get his fish! Fox rolled up 
the legs of his pants up to his knees before he slowly slid over the 
jetty's edge and into the water. "It's always a question of *how* you 
catch them," he muttered to himself, taking a few careful steps away 
from the jetty. Then he stopped, standing slightly bent over, his 
hands poised just above the water's surface, staring into the lake.

The sheriff had built a fire and turned around to look into his bag 
for something to eat when he saw his rascal in the lake. Swearing 
under his breath he got up, hands on his hips and ready to yell when 
he watched the boy's arms shooting into the water all of a sudden. A 
moment later Fox triumphantly held a large trout above his head, a big 
grin splitting his face in two. The boy walked to the jetty, 
matter-of-factly smashed the fish's head unto the wood to kill it, 
laid it next to the fishing rods and walked back to his previous 
place. Not a minute later he had caught a second trout.

Skinner stood on the jetty's edge, pillow, rods and the boy's boots 
and socks in his hands, shaking his head in wonder. Fox jumped out of 
the water, grabbed the fish by their tails and strode past the sheriff 
with his head held high and a smug smile on his lips. The big man was 
still rooted to the spot, dumbly staring out to the lake where the boy 
had motionlessly stood in the water, when his rascal yelled from their 
camp site, "You coming? I'm hungry!"

XXXXX

Skinner prepared their meal and they enjoyed their supper in 
companionable silence. The sun was slowly setting behind the forest on 
the far side of the lake, casting a reddish glow over the scenery. The 
sheriff loved this time of the day, watching how nature changed by the 
minute. Today, however, he was watching his rascal, thrilled by the 
child-like wonder on the boy's face while he watched the sunset. The 
big man was reluctant to break the mood but he just had to know... 
"So, did you like your surprise, Rascal?" He gasped when the boy 
turned his head towards him. The boy's entire face was glowing, lit up 
by a blinding smile. Fox nodded emphatically and knee-walked closer to 
Skinner. When he flopped down on his butt, the boy winced in pain. 
"How bad is it, Rascal?" the sheriff asked, concerned.

"It's okay," Fox rasped out but Skinner could clearly see that this 
was an understatement.

"Maybe we should pack up and go back to the cabin," he suggested.

"No!" The boy shook his head vigorously. "I wanna stay here." He 
settled down, the soft ground cushioning his aching bottom. After a 
long moment, he turned to the sheriff. "I'd love to go swimming," he 
announced hesitantly, not sure what Skinner thought about that. "It 
would sure help cool my butt," he added as an afterthought, giving the 
big man next to him a pleading look.

The sheriff sighed but nodded. "Okay, but only for a minute, Rascal," 
he replied. "It's getting cold when the sun is gone and I don't want 
you to get sick."

"Okay," Fox said, smiling happily. He was undressed within mere 
seconds, completely oblivious to the fact that he was naked. The 
sheriff had already seen him like this more than once and the idea of 
splashing around in the lake was just too enticing. Fox ran to the 
water, his blistered behind glowing in an angry red, and jumped in.

Skinner watched the boy, making sure that he stayed close. At the same 
time he took his rascal's nightshirt out of his bag, smiling broadly. 
He was sure that Fox didn't expect *that* when he came back to the 
camp site! The sheriff waited a few more minutes before calling the 
boy out of the water, holding up the towel that they had used to dry 
their feet earlier.

Fox obeyed instantly, which surprised Skinner to no end because he 
would've sworn that the boy would want to stay in the water. The big 
man wrapped the slender body in the towel and thoroughly rubbed him 
dry before he dangled the nightshirt in front of the boy's face. He 
laughed out loud when he saw his rascal's shocked expression. "Always 
be prepared," he said. "I think it's better for your injuries when you 
wear this instead of your jeans, Rascal. Besides, there's nobody who 
would see you either here or on the way to the cabin so you'd already 
be ready for bed!" The boy raised a suspicious eyebrow but put on the 
hated nightshirt in the end. He had to admit that it felt better to 
have only the soft fabric clinging to his butt instead of the chafing 
pants but it *was* rather embarrassing. "Good boy," Skinner praised, 
patting his knees. "Now get over here so I can reapply the ointment." 
Fox smiled, genuinely surprised - and happy - that the sheriff had 
remembered to bring the salve. He swung himself over the big man's 
thighs and sighed in relief when he felt the ointment working its 
magic as soon as it was applied.

"Thank you," he said softly when he carefully sat down next to Skinner 
who leaned up against the sturdy trunk of the weeping willow. The sun 
was almost gone now, only a few rays of light were still peeking 
through the thick forest on the other side of the lake. The only other 
source of light was their camp fire which was crackling and hissing a 
few feet away but still close enough to radiate its warmth.

They watched the sunset until they were completely enveloped in 
darkness, safe for the camp fire. Fox absolutely loved the place. He 
stared at the lake, tried to make out the outline of the old tree that 
he and Alex had used as a diving board but it was too far away. The 
temperature fell considerably after a few minutes, and the boy began 
to shiver slightly. Skinner knew that his rascal wouldn't want to 
leave so soon though so he rooted around in his bag until he found the 
old blanket that he had packed at the last moment. It was the same one 
that had been on the wagon and he had just grabbed it when he saw it 
lying under the seat while he was on his way to his woodshed to 
collect the fishing rods. Now he was glad that he thought to bring it 
along.

Skinner beckoned Fox closer, unfolding the blanket. The book fell out. 
The sheriff stared at it for a second until he remembered that the boy 
had wrapped it into the blanket so nobody would steal it. He smiled 
while he tugged the blanket around the boy's shivering form. "Did you 
like what you've read so far?" he asked Fox who just looked at him 
blankly.

"Um, yeah. It's a really good book," he replied, smiling reassuringly. 
The blanket might be old but it warmed him quite nicely. "Thanks for 
the blanket," he added.

The sheriff grinned. "Anytime, Rascal. I told you I don't want you to 
catch a cold."

"Well, when Alex was sick you took care of him and fed him and read to 
him," Fox argued. "Wouldn't you do the same for me?"

Skinner blinked in surprise. "Of course I would, Rascal," he said 
softly. "Besides, I've already taken care of you and I've fed you." He 
smiled, fondly remembering the boy standing in the water. "Well, I've 
fed you with the fish *you* caught," he added, laughing 
good-naturedly. Fox giggled. Skinner looked at the boy, a serious 
expression on his face. He knew that the next question might produce 
the famous wildcat again but he just hoped that the sweet, charming 
boy he had spent the day with would stay. "So, do you want me to read 
to you?"

Fox cocked his head, a curious look on his face. Skinner held his 
breath, half expecting a tantrum to descend upon him. After several 
long moments the boy licked his lips nervously before he asked, "Would 
you do that?"

The big man sighed in relief and smiled. "Of course I would, Rascal," 
he said, grabbing the book. "So, tell me...how far did you get?"

The boy looked at him quizzically before he understood what the 
sheriff wanted from him. "Oh," he murmured, inching closer. 
"Um...right here." He had just turned a couple of pages and pointed to 
a spot that looked like a good place to stop reading because there was 
print on only half of the previous page.

Skinner raised a surprised eyebrow. "Wow, you've already gotten to the 
third chapter," he commented. "You're a pretty fast reader." Fox 
blushed guiltily, glad that it was too dark for Skinner to see. He 
shrugged self-consciously and snuggled deeper into the blanket. The 
sheriff lay down on the ground with only his head propped up against 
the tree trunk, angling the book so that the light from the camp fire 
made it possible for him to read. He cleared his throat, then began to 
read.

Fox listened to the deep voice telling him a wondrous story about a 
very smart man trying to solve a mystery. The boy was totally 
enraptured by it even though it was difficult for him at first, not 
knowing what had happened before. He was so enthralled by the story 
line that he kept inching closer to Skinner, watching the big man's 
face intently, hanging on every word the sheriff said.

Skinner saw the boy's movement and remembered the way he had lured Fox 
first into the rocking chair and then in his lap just one night ago. 
He had been thrilled when he had finally wrapped his arms around the 
wild animal that now lived with him. But it still came as a total 
surprise to the big man when he suddenly saw the boy's dark hair 
peeking out under the book in his hands. Fox's head came to rest on 
the big man's chest, part of his body covering the sheriff. Skinner 
slowly wrapped one arm around the boy's back, squeezing him 
reassuringly, while he steadily kept on reading out loud. Fox sighed 
contentedly and snuggled closer, enjoying the warmth radiating from 
the big man while the blanket still held off the chilly night air.

The boy listened to the booming voice coming from above and the steady 
thumping noise of the sheriff's heart coming from below, thinking that 
he could get used to this. He looked up to see millions of stars 
sparkling in the pitch black sky which seemed to be even darker 
because of the new moon. Fox closed his eyes so he could better 
concentrate on the story that was being read to him. He decided that 
his was definitely nice. If it hadn't been for the unfortunate 
incident at the Spender ranch, this could've been an almost perfect 
day.

The sheriff read to his rascal for another twenty minutes or so, 
realizing that the boy was slowly drifting off to sleep. He closed the 
book softly and stroked Fox's hair. "I guess it's time we go home," he 
whispered, receiving a muffled grunt in reply. Skinner smiled. "So, 
you really liked your surprise, Rascal?" he softly asked the boy.

For a long moment there was no answer and the sheriff thought that the 
boy had indeed fallen asleep when he suddenly heard a soft reply 
whispered into his chest. "Yes, sir. Yes, sir, I did."



THE END OF CHAPTER 6.


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