Author's Notes: Oh well, I just thought a birthday story for Fox would 
be in order...

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.

Category: PG-13, Discipline

Disclaimer: My name is Chris Carter and I've finally decided to use 
the wonderful characters that I came up with in a *good* way. Hey, it 
can't be worse than some of the eps I've written, right? <pleading 
look>

My addy is: gaby@gaby.slashcity.tv

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

Summary: Fox's life takes some unexpected turns...



INDEPENDENCE
by Gaby


Chapter 7 - Changes



Fox spent the next two days close to Skinner. The sheriff guessed that 
was because he had helped the boy after that ill-fated encounter with 
old Spender. After all, the big man had taken care of the boy 
afterwards, soothing him, rocking him, taking care of his wounded 
bottom. Skinner guessed that Fox needed some kind of physical 
reassurance that everything was all right. He didn't call him on it 
because he was positive that the boy didn't stick to him on purpose - 
and he probably would've stopped hovering around the sheriff the 
minute Skinner mentioned it. So, he enjoyed having his rascal near and 
he made sure to occasionally ruffle his hair or squeeze his shoulder 
gently. Fox always gave the big man a blinding smile when he received 
this sort of affection, dipping his head shyly a second later, as if 
embarrassed by his own actions. Skinner also made sure that the welted 
buttocks were looked after, always spreading the healing ointment on 
the boy's posterior.

Even though the area was still tender Fox wasn't in real pain anymore 
when he sat down for breakfast on the morning of the third day. 
"Where's my porridge?" he asked, realizing that he was supposed to eat 
bacon and eggs.

The sheriff laughed out loud and reached over the small table to 
ruffle the boy's hair. "Listen to you," he said affectionately. "Only 
a few days ago you complained that porridge was 'yucky'!"

"Well, it *looked* yucky," Fox admitted, poking a strip of bacon with 
his fork as if afraid that it might attack him. "But it *tastes* 
good." Skinner chuckled knowingly. "Oh, okay. It tastes good with 
sugar," the boy conceded, remembering the bland taste of the porridge 
itself.

"I think a little variety isn't altogether a bad idea," Skinner 
announced, nodding at the plate in front of the boy. "Now eat up, 
Rascal. You don't want to be late, do you?"

It took the boy a moment to understand what the sheriff was talking 
about, then a brilliant smile spread on his face. Today he would spend 
with Alex. All day long. Just the two of them! "No, sir," he replied, 
eagerly shoveling the breakfast into his mouth. His mind was working 
overtime, trying to think up all the wonderful things he and his 
friend could be doing... He hoped that Skinner had to work in town so 
he and Alex could sneak to the lake behind the sheriff's cabin to swim 
and dive again...

"One piece of advice, young man," Skinner warned. "If I see either one 
of you even *near* that lake you'll be a very sorry boy." He raised 
one eyebrow meaningfully, driving his point home loud and clear.

Fox stared at the big man in disbelief. Not only did Skinner seem to 
be able to read his mind - which scared him quite a bit! - but he also 
had the audacity to threaten him with a spanking even though his butt 
was still aching from that caning he had taken at the Spender ranch! 
That wasn't fair! He tried to stare the sheriff down but had to avert 
his eyes after several long moments. Skinner cleared his throat, 
obviously waiting for a vocal reply from the boy. Fox sighed deeply 
and mumbled, "Okay."

Skinner seemed to be satisfied with that answer because he smiled at 
the boy and asked, "So, what have you two wildcats planned for today?"

"Dunno. Alex had to help his father in the livery stable for the last 
few days so I didn't have a chance to talk to him," the boy replied. 
Skinner tried to hide his smile. Even if Alex had been available, Fox 
had been so focused on the big man that he wouldn't have so much as 
acknowledged the other boy's presence. Fox had been literally glued to 
the sheriff, accompanying him on his daily rounds through town, always 
hovering near, almost causing the big man to trip over him on several 
occasions. When he had talked to Sam, Alex's father, asking him if his 
son was free coming Saturday to spend time with Fox his rascal had 
been at Maggie Scully's place, stuffing his face with waffles. When he 
had picked him up an hour later Maggie had whispered into his ear that 
she had never seen a more cuddly boy before in her long life. Skinner 
smiled, remembering the way Fox had happily wrapped his slender body 
around the sheriff's own bulky frame when he had shown up at Maggie's. 
"Anyway, I hope he'll show me the secret places in town, the ones he 
told me about before," Fox continued to babble, forcing Skinner's 
attention back to the present. The boy's eyes suddenly grew large, not 
sure whether or not he had just made a mistake by mentioning those 
secret places, but Skinner just smiled.

"Well, I'm sure you're going to have a wonderful time. Just make sure 
that you'll be back here before sunset, Rascal."

"So, does that mean that you're staying here?" Fox asked, trying for 
the innocent look. After all, if the sheriff were in town he would 
surely want his rascal to meet him there and ride back together... But 
if he's in town the boys could go to the lake...

"Yes, I've got some things to do around the cabin," Skinner replied, 
knowing only too well what Fox was thinking. And he wasn't even lying. 
He *had* something he wanted to do today. That was also part of the 
reason why he wanted the boy out of his immediate vicinity.

"Oh. Okay." Fox sighed deeply and finished his breakfast. Then he 
looked at Skinner's still half-full plate and sighed again. Washing 
the dishes was *his* job...but he couldn't start before the big man 
had finished...and he *really* wanted to get going...

Skinner watched the boy fidget for a full minute before he lightly 
asked, "How about I'll take care of the dishes this morning, Rascal?"

Another blinding smile broke out on the boy's face and he jumped up to 
rush out of the small cabin. Skinner had never seen anything move so 
fast in his life. He was mentally preparing himself for the loud bang 
of a closing door and was surprised when none was forthcoming. He 
turned around in surprise just in time to see his rascal let go of the 
door knob, walk back to the sheriff and, after a second of awkward 
hesitation, wrap his skinny arms around the big man's neck. "Thank 
you, Old Meanie," Fox mumbled into Skinner's shoulder before letting 
go and running outside.

The big man needed a second to find his voice again and, just to say 
something, he yelled after the boy, "Sunset, Rascal! Don't be late!" 
Then he remembered the boy's arms squeezing him and he broke out into 
a huge, happy grin.

XXXXX

Skinner wiped his sweaty brow, nodding to himself. It had been a 
couple of hours of hard work but it was definitely worth it. His 
rascal was going to love his surprise! The sheriff smiled, imagining 
the boy's big, expressive, hazel eyes grow even bigger when he saw 
what his old meanie had done for him.

The sheriff looked at the sky, realizing that sunset was still about 
an hour away. The boys must have the time of their lives. When Skinner 
had gone into town to pick up what he had needed, he had half expected 
to run into his rascal. But fortunately neither Fox nor Alex showed up 
and the sheriff also didn't hear any complaints from townspeople about 
two whirlwinds having gone completely wild so he hoped that 
Independence was still standing.

Well, he still had enough time to drink a cup of coffee and read a 
couple of pages in his book before his rascal came back - if Fox 
indeed honored the 'be back before sunset' rule - so he walked around 
the side of the cabin on his way to his woodshed to put the tools back 
where they belonged - when he saw a solitary figure sitting on the 
pasture's fence.

Skinner hid his tools behind the water trough and slowly walked over 
to the slender body, making sure that he was heard. Even though Fox 
allowed the sheriff to touch him he still flinched on occasion when he 
wasn't expecting it. Skinner had learned the hard way to always show 
his hand before he used it to stroke, caress, or just pat the boy. 
This time, however, Fox didn't react to the approaching sheriff even 
though Skinner all but stomped his way over to the boy.

The big man stopped next to Fox who kept staring at the peacefully 
grazing Buck a few feet away. "Rascal?" Skinner asked hesitantly. 
"What are you doing here? It's not sunset yet." Fox didn't react, in 
fact it looked as if he hadn't even heard the sheriff. Skinner slowly 
raised his hand, making sure it was in the boy's line of vision, 
before he used it to gently rub his back. There was no reaction from 
the boy. "What's wrong, Rascal?" the sheriff asked softly. Fox 
shrugged. Well, at least he acknowledges my presence, Skinner thought. 
"Are you hurt somewhere?" he asked, looking at the boy's dirty 
clothes. He might as well have slid down a steep hill and broken 
several bones, the way he looked right now. Fox shook his head, no.

Skinner sighed inwardly. He had already learned that his rascal would 
tell him what was wrong in his own time. There was no way of forcing 
him to talk - Fox would merely shut himself off and become even more 
stubborn than he usually was. The very first day the sheriff had met 
Fox he had thought that the boy reminded him of a wild animal that 
needed to be lured close with patience and love, and he had been right 
about that every single time until now. It was obvious that something 
was wrong and he knew that Fox would tell him in his own time. Maybe 
acting normally would help him lure Fox closer.

"Actually I'm glad you're home early," Skinner began, ruffling the 
boy's mop of locks. "I have something I want to show you." He had 
thought that this would coax his old rascal out of the obviously 
sulking boy in front of him but he was wrong. Fox just kept staring at 
Buck, plucking at his own dirty pants listlessly. "Come on," Skinner 
said jovially, clapping the boy on the back. He turned around to walk 
back to the cabin but when he realized that Fox wasn't following him, 
he went back to the boy. "What's wrong, Rascal?" he asked softly, 
tapping the boy's left leg. "Turn around and look at me, please."

Fox sighed and rolled his eyes but straddled the top beam of the 
fence, turning to the sheriff a little. "Happy now?"

"No," Skinner said gravelly. "I can't be happy when you are sad." Fox 
blushed and ducked his head, biting his lower lip. "You do know that 
you can tell me anything, right?" After a long moment the boy nodded 
once. "Good," Skinner said, smiling. He now knew that Fox really would 
come to talk to him when the time was right. "And now, let's go!" The 
big man purposefully walked in the cabin's direction again but turned 
around when Fox still wasn't following him.

Skinner was at his wit's end. He knew that he couldn't force Fox to 
tell him what was wrong. He had also learned that his rascal was a 
wondrous mix of little boy and ancient soul. Sometimes he would say 
the wisest things that left the sheriff gaping, sometimes he was 
delighted by the smallest, most insignificant things in the world. Fox 
didn't know a lot of things that normal toddlers already knew - 
Skinner remembered the time his rascal had spent an hour staring at 
Maggie Scully's old grandfather clock, or when the boy had tried to 
find out what suspenders were for. On the other hand he could ride 
better and faster than the famous pony riders that sometimes brought 
the mail to Independence. Since Skinner could never be sure what kind 
of reaction would descend upon him in any given situation he always 
had to make his strategy up as he went along. And right now his rascal 
looked like a lost little boy.

"Let me guess, you're too tired to take one more step, right?" he 
asked the boy, smiling. Fox just looked at him. "How about going 
piggyback?" Skinner suggested, turning his back invitingly towards the 
boy. He wasn't sure what he expected more - a small body wrapped 
around his back, or a cry of outrage about the audacity of him, 
suggesting something so childish.

What he didn't expect was a long moment of silence before a tentative 
voice asked, "Piggyback?"

Skinner swung around, eyebrows raised. "Yeah, you know...piggyback." 
When all he received was a blank look, he blinked once. Then he turned 
around again. "Wrap your arms around my neck, Rascal," he instructed. 
After a second Fox did so. "Now, don't try to strangle me or we won't 
be going anywhere," Skinner warned and was delighted to hear a soft 
chuckle close to his ear. "Next wrap your legs around my waist."

It took Fox a moment until he had his other leg swung over the fence. 
Then he jumped on the sheriff's back, giggling slightly. Skinner slid 
his arms under the boy's legs and clasped his hands in front of his 
stomach to keep the boy's body in place. He was surprised just how 
small his rascal could make himself if need be. Right now it seemed as 
if he had a five year old on his back, and not a - what he guessed was 
a - twelve year old. Then he remembered the day at the Spender ranch 
when Fox had thrown himself into the sheriff's arms and how small he 
had seemed back then as well. His heart went out to the tortured soul 
that was hidden in the slender body of his rascal.

"So, are you ready?" he asked lightly, trying to clear his mind. It 
wouldn't help the boy when Skinner suddenly fell into a deep funk 
himself and he could already sense that his rascal liked the whole 
piggyback idea, new as it was for him. Fox nodded into the sheriff's 
neck, holding on tight. Skinner began to walk towards the cabin and 
Fox frowned.

"That's it? That's all?" he asked, more than slightly disappointed.

This reaction was exactly what Skinner had been waiting for because he 
immediately started a wild gallop around the yard, bouncing the boy on 
his back. Fox couldn't help but burst into a fit of laughter, full of 
delight and glee. "Faster, boy, faster," he yelled, reaching behind 
him and down to give the sheriff an encouraging swat on his butt. 
Skinner bucked instantly, sending Fox into another burst of giggles.

Skinner came to a stop on the front porch and let Fox slide off his 
back. "I'm definitely too old for this," he wheezed, bending over and 
clutching his lower back.

"See, told you. You're an old meanie," Fox stated solemnly before he 
broke out into a huge grin. The sheriff grabbed him and tickled his 
sides until tears of laughter were running down the boy's cheeks. 
"Okay, okay," he gasped. "You're a *young* meanie!" Skinner stopped 
torturing the boy, chuckled and ruffled his hair instead. Just as he 
was about to congratulate himself on his brilliant way of dealing with 
a sad rascal, Fox lost the happy smile and looked at his feet as if 
just remembering that he wasn't supposed to have fun.

Skinner decided to give the boy more time. It was obvious that 
something was bothering him, but it just wouldn't do to force him into 
a confession. "Come on," he said instead. "Let me show you the 
surprise."

The boy's head snapped up. "You didn't say it was a surprise," he 
accused, his curiosity already peaked again. The sheriff just smiled 
and walked into the cabin, heading for the boy's alcove. Fox followed 
him cautiously and then gasped when he saw just what exactly the 
surprise was. "A window," he breathed, his face reflecting the wonder 
he felt about the fact that the sheriff would do something like this 
for him. "You..you...built in a window...for me?" he asked, 
unbelieving.

"I know that you can't fall asleep without seeing the stars," Skinner 
shrugged, suddenly blushing. He remembered the first night in the 
cabin when he had found the boy in the rocking chair on the front 
porch because he couldn't stand to stay in the dark alcove. "See, I 
pushed the bed against the other wall so now you're able to look 
outside before you sleep."

Fox wasn't even listening. He couldn't believe that Skinner had done 
something like this, for no other reason than the fact that the boy 
wanted to see the stars at night. He slowly walked over to the window, 
and hesitantly reached out a hand as if afraid that the window would 
disappear as soon as he touched it.

"Tell you what," Skinner said. "I'll go make supper now. That 
shouldn't take more than a few minutes because I'm just reheating the 
left-overs from yesterday. Then you'll take a bath. After that I'll 
hop into the water and meanwhile you can do your Reflection Time. How 
does that sound?"

At first the sheriff thought that the boy hadn't even heard him, so 
intently was he investigating every nook and cranny of his new window. 
But suddenly something penetrated his rascal's musings. "Take a bath?" 
he asked, aghast. "I just took one a few days ago!"

Skinner chuckled. "Yeah, and look at you. Are you actually *looking* 
for the dirt or is it coming to you of its own volition?" Fox gave him 
a glare before turning back to the window. "Besides, it's Saturday. 
We'll always bathe on Saturdays."

Fox wasn't really impressed by that information but he nodded anyway. 
Right now the window was way more important. He threw himself on his 
bed, trying to find the perfect angle to lie down so he could have the 
best view of the stars that would be out soon. Skinner watched his 
rascal, smiled and walked into the kitchen.

XXXXX

Supper was eaten in silence. Fox had to be coaxed away from his window 
and he had that crestfallen look on his face again. Even Skinner's 
offer of taking care of the dirty dishes didn't elicit a smile from 
the boy. He meekly went into the pantry to soak in the bathtub and 
obeyed as soon as the sheriff ordered him out. Skinner called his 
rascal to the couch and the boy immediately threw himself over the big 
man's strong thighs, knowing what was coming. The sheriff moved his 
rascal's nightshirt out of the way to take a close look at the boy's 
butt. "It's looking really good," Skinner informed Fox. "Does it still 
hurt?"

Fox shook his head and sighed blissfully when the sheriff applied the 
healing ointment. "Okay, Rascal. Reflection Time." Skinner gave the 
upturned butt an affectionate swat and Fox scrambled to his feet. 
"Half an hour," the big man said, pointing at the clock on the 
mantelpiece. Fox still didn't know what that 'half an hour' thing was 
but he nodded anyway. When Skinner walked in the pantry's direction, 
the boy retrieved his notebook and pencil and began to draw.

XXXXX

The sheriff was surprised that the boy had his nose still buried in 
his notebook by the time the big man joined him in the main room, also 
clad in his nightshirt, a freshly brewed cup of coffee in his hand. 
Settling himself into the rocking chair by the crackling fire, Skinner 
decided that writing everything down was his rascal's way of dealing 
with whatever had happened to him that day. He knew that the boy would 
tell him sooner or later so he mentally shrugged, grabbed his book and 
began to read.

A while later, Fox was still bent over his notebook, Skinner looked up 
and softly said, "You know that ten o'clock is bedtime, don't you, 
Rascal?"

Fox looked up, startled, and glanced at the clock. He knew that ten 
o'clock meant that the longer one of the two hands would point 
straight up while the shorter one was slightly off to the left. Right 
now the long hand pointed directly to the left. The boy frowned. He 
hadn't realized that it was already so late. Biting his lower lip 
anxiously, he closed his notebook and wordlessly carried it into his 
alcove.

Skinner raised a surprised eyebrow. His rascal never went to bed one 
minute before he had to. In fact, for the last few days he had fallen 
asleep in the sheriff's arms, cradled on the big man's lap, listening 
to him reading the Sherlock Holmes book out loud while they were 
rocking back and forth in front of the fire place. Skinner would carry 
him to the bed where the boy soundly slept till the next morning. The 
sheriff had expected that Fox wouldn't want to be held like a small 
child anymore, now that he had the window to see the stars through, 
but he was surprised that the boy went to bed before he actually had 
to - without even saying good night!

So he raised his second eyebrow in surprise when Fox came back out of 
the alcove and made a beeline to the sheriff. Maybe he still did want 
to hear a 'bedtime story'... Skinner had to admit that he enjoyed 
those few minutes with his rascal nestling close to him and the boy 
obviously didn't think being read to was too childish. The big man 
smiled and put his own book down, getting ready for their nightly 
ritual.

Then he realized that Fox hadn't brought the Sherlock Holmes book that 
was always on the boy's nightstand. He blinked once, not sure where 
this was leading, and decided to wait and see what the boy wanted.

Fox stopped in front of the sheriff, nervously chewing his lower lip. 
He ducked his head a little, his long bangs hanging over his eyes, 
making it difficult for him to steal surreptitious glances at the big 
man, trying to gauge his mood. After a long minute he just sighed, 
obviously having decided that whatever he was about to do was no fun 
but had to be done before he slowly began to crawl into Skinner's lap 
as if expecting the big man to shove him away. Instead the sheriff 
grabbed the slender boy under his arms and lifted him up easily, then 
deposited him in his lap. Fox curled up immediately, making himself 
impossibly small, his head resting on the big man's broad chest. 
Skinner wrapped his arms around his rascal and began a slow rocking 
motion.

Nothing happened for several minutes. Skinner began to slowly rub one 
hand up and down the boy's back in a soothing pattern and Fox nestled 
closer, sighing contentedly. The sheriff knew that his rascal was 
trying to build up the courage to tell him whatever had happened so he 
ignored the fact that it was past the boy's bedtime. Keeping up a 
steady rocking motion with the chair and a stroking the boy's back and 
hair soothingly, Skinner mentally prepared himself for another long 
wait.

"Alex and I..." Fox began suddenly, his voice thick and choked-up. 
Skinner raised an eyebrow, never stopping his rocking or soothing. He 
looked down at the dark head cradled on his chest but he wasn't able 
to see the boy's face. For a second he was tempted to ask what was 
wrong with Alex and him but he decided that it would be better to give 
his rascal all the time he needed. He wasn't disappointed. "We had a 
fight," Fox whispered.

"What about?" Skinner asked softly, hugging the slim body in his arms.

Fox looked up into the sheriff's face, obviously surprised. "You're 
not mad?"

"No," the big man answered truthfully. "I can't be mad as long as I 
don't know what you were fighting about, can I? And even then I don't 
think I would be mad. I might be sad that you thought you had to fight 
or maybe I'll be a little disappointed that you didn't come up with 
another way to resolve whatever problem you had...but I don't think 
I'll be mad."

"Oh." The boy heaved a sigh of relief and nestled closer again. 
Nothing else was forthcoming.

"So is that why your clothes were so dirty?" Skinner asked.

"What? Oh, no. We didn't fight like that. We fought with words." Fox 
buried his face into the sheriff's nightshirt. "I was already dirty 
before the fight," he mumbled. Skinner bit the inside of his cheek to 
keep from laughing. That was not the right time to chuckle. "But you 
should've seen Alex," the boy continued after a long moment. "He sure 
had to take at least *two* baths!" Now Skinner couldn't help himself, 
he laughed out loud.

"What did you boys do, anyway?" he asked, hoping that this would coax 
some more information out of Fox.

"Alex showed me the secret places," the boy explained. "And some of 
them are...well hidden...and kinda dirty." Skinner grinned. He knew 
damned well what those 'secret places' were - the town's kids liked to 
play hide and seek there, mostly when their parents were the ones 
seeking. There was that one abandoned old house at the end of Main 
Street, a couple of holes in the ground that stray dogs had dug under 
certain buildings as well as the dried up well outside of town that 
the children were absolutely forbidden to get close to. Skinner sighed 
inwardly, deciding to have a little talk with his rascal about that 
well later on.

"Well, that sounds like you had a good time," Skinner offered. He felt 
the small head nod against his chest. "So what happened, Rascal?" The 
sheriff hugged the boy closer, trying to comfort him as best he could.

"Alex kept talking about this stupid school so now he won't have time 
for me anymore and he doesn't really like me and I got angry and I 
told him that I don't want his pity just because his father told him 
to play with me and he said he doesn't like me anymore..." The flow of 
words stopped abruptly when the first of several sobs escaped the 
boy's lips. Skinner squeezed his body tightly, making soothing noises. 
"And...and...and then I said that I hate him and then I ran home."

Skinner felt a surge of pride when he realized that the boy had 
referred to his cabin as 'home' but that wasn't important at the 
moment. He had a very distressed little boy in his arms, one that 
thought he had lost a friend. Rubbing soothing circles on his back, 
Skinner murmured, "Rascal, I don't think Alex meant what he said. And 
I don't think you meant what you said. Did you?" He gently lifted the 
boy's head, forcing him to lock eyes with the big man. After a long 
moment Fox shook his head, new tears running down his cheeks. Skinner 
used his thumb to gently wipe them away. "Now, if *you* didn't really 
mean what you said then Alex probably didn't either, right?" Fox 
slowly nodded though it was obvious that he didn't really believe the 
sheriff. "Look, Rascal, Alex is excited about going to school. You 
told me that you've gone to school for years so you should know what 
it's like. You already know how to read and write. Alex can't do that. 
School is something new for him. You are his friend. He just wanted to 
share this with you." Fox frowned. He hadn't thought of it that way 
before. "And besides," Skinner continued softly. "Starting Monday 
you'll be working in the Scully store and helping out at Maggie's so 
you won't have that much time for Alex, either. Right?" Fox bit his 
lip. Damn, the sheriff was right. "It's just as well that Alex starts 
school on Monday or he might be disappointed that you don't have so 
much time for him anymore, what with working off your debt and all."

Fox buried his face in the big man's chest. Damn. The sheriff was 
right. He was looking forward to spending time with Maggie and Miss 
Dana, earning his own money to top it off! He had even bragged about 
it to Alex and his friend had been happy for him! Why couldn't he be 
happy for Alex? And now they had had this fight and Alex wasn't his 
friend anymore... "He hates me," Fox mumbled, voice thick with tears.

"No, Rascal, Alex doesn't hate you. I'm sure that he's just as unhappy 
about the whole thing as you are right now. I bet that everything will 
be okay again when you see him tomorrow."

Two wide hazel eyes looked up. "I'll see him tomorrow?"

"Well, of course. In church."

"Church?" the boy repeated, obviously having no idea what that was.

"Yes, church. Tomorrow is Sunday. We all go to worship God in church 
on Sundays." Skinner cocked his head and looked at his rascal who 
busily buried his face into the big man's chest again.

"Right. I knew that," he mumbled. After a second he added, "And you're 
sure Alex doesn't hate me?"

The sheriff hugged him again. "I'm positive, Rascal. How about you two 
spending a few hours playing tomorrow? Before you'll both be busy 
starting Monday."

Fox smiled through his tears. "That would be great! I hope Alex wants 
to play with me, too."

"I'm sure he will, Rascal, I'm sure he will."

They spent a few more minutes rocking back and forth in silence, Fox 
sighing contentedly every once in a while. In the end he softly asked, 
"Do you still read me some more Sherlock Holmes?" He looked up and saw 
that Skinner was about to say something, probably that it was way past 
bedtime, so he quickly added, "Pleeease?" with his puppy eyes growing 
impossibly large.

The big man hesitated a moment but caved in anyway. He nodded, basking 
in the blinding smile that appeared on the boy's face, and was about 
to get up when he realized that Fox wasn't moving. All the boy did was 
wrap his arms around the sheriff's strong neck. That was explanation 
enough - Fox wanted to be carried to bed. Skinner shook his head in 
disbelief; his rascal sometimes really did act like a five year old. 
He stood up, the boy securely in his strong arms, and walked over to 
the alcove.

Fox readily snuggled under the quilt, making enough room for Skinner 
to sit on the edge of the bed, and turned to look out of his new 
window. The sheriff read to him for two minutes before realizing that 
his rascal was sound asleep. Blowing out the candle and tucking in the 
boy one last time, Skinner went to bed as well.

XXXXX

The next morning started good enough - Fox was happy when he saw his 
beloved porridge. He even agreed to take care of the dirty dishes 
without so much as a slight fuss. When he heard that he was supposed 
to wear his 'good clothes' all hell broke loose.

"Why do I have to wear the itchy pants and those stupid suspenders?" 
he yelled at the top of his lungs.

"Because it's Sunday, because we're going to church and because I want 
you to look presentable," Skinner replied, trying to sound calm.

"No." Fox crossed his arms over his chest in a show of utter defiance. 
Skinner couldn't believe that this was the same boy that he had held 
cradled in his arms only hours ago.

"I'm not going to have this discussion, Rascal. You will wear what I 
tell you to or there will be consequences." He gave the boy a stern 
look and Fox realized just what kind of consequences the sheriff was 
talking about - and where they would be applied.

"But I don't wanna-" he began uncertainly.

"William. Now." Skinner pointed a blunt finger in the direction of the 
alcove.

Fox bravely tried to stand his ground for a few more seconds before he 
stomped his foot and turned around. Mumbling under his breath, he 
entered his alcove to get dressed.

XXXXX

The boy kept up the mumbling during the drive to town. Now it wasn't 
so much the injustice of the world in general and the injustice of the 
sheriff in particular that had him riled up, nor the uncomfortable 
clothes - the fact that poor Buck was harnessed to the buggy made Fox 
angry. He loved riding the horse and he was absolutely sure that this 
four-legged friend hated the wagon as much as he did.

Skinner was patient until they stopped in front of the church. When 
the boy refused to jump into the big man's waiting arms to get off the 
wagon the sheriff snapped. "Stop acting up, Rascal. Try to behave 
yourself. This is a church. I don't want people to think that you're 
nothing more than a bratty little boy."

Fox jumped off the wagon, glaring at the sheriff. "Then don't force me 
to come with you," he challenged. A second later he was ruefully 
rubbing the sting out of his smarting butt. "You didn't have to do 
that, you know," he complained, pouting.

"No, but I did. Ready?" Skinner asked jovially, a smile on his face. 
Fox shot him another baleful look but had to admit that the sheriff 
was right - he had been acting bratty. He sighed loudly and fell into 
step with the big man. With each step towards the church the boy 
inched closer to the sheriff and he finally relaxed when he felt the 
big man's hand squeezing his shoulder gently. He had never before been 
in a building that looked like this one and he had no idea what was 
expected of him in there. Being close to his old meanie made him feel 
safe.

Skinner led them to one of the front pews and sat down. Fox scooted 
close to him, looking around with wide eyes. He was intrigued by the 
colorful windows and the giant cross up in the front. The ceiling was 
so high he had to crane his neck to see it. There were so many things 
that just had to be examined the boy was itching to run off and take a 
closer look but he stayed put, knowing full well that Skinner wouldn't 
approve of his impromptu exploration.

The church slowly filled up and Fox grinned happily when Maggie Scully 
sat down next to him. "Rose," he exclaimed, hugging her. She shushed 
him and gave him a kiss on the top of his head.

"This is a church, Fox, people don't yell in here. This is a place of 
worship and quiet," she softly admonished.

"I...I know that, Rose," Fox mumbled, blushing. Of course he didn't 
but the others didn't need to know that. Then he saw who was sitting 
on the other side of Maggie and he almost clamored again. With extra 
care, he whispered, "Hi, Miss Dana," giving the pretty red-head a 
blinding smile. The man next to her, her brother Bill, was pointedly 
ignored.

The church filled up and the reverend was already on his way to the 
front when two late-comers strode purposefully down the middle aisle 
to sit down in the front pew. Fox gasped and buried into Skinner's 
side when he saw that it was Spender with his son Jeffrey. Fox visibly 
shuddered when old Spender turned around and looked straight at him, a 
predatory smile on his lips. The man nodded politely at the sheriff 
who glared back before he turned back towards the front.

Skinner wasn't surprised that Spender had shown up. He didn't come 
regularly to church but the sheriff had expected him to be there now 
that Fox would go as well. The big man also knew that old Spender 
wouldn't be foolish enough to try anything, not after the barely 
concealed threat Skinner had spat in his face a few days ago. No, 
Spender wouldn't touch his rascal. But he would show up in 
Independence every week from now on just to make the poor boy a 
nervous wreck. Bastard.

Fox tried to ignore the imposing figure sitting a few pews in front of 
him. He did feel safe sandwiched between his old meanie and his Rose 
and besides, the church was way too interesting to spend much time 
brooding over Spender. Nestled against the sheriff he let his big eyes 
wander left and right, trying to take in all the new things he was 
able to find. When everybody stood up to sing, he was startled out of 
his reverie. Everybody seemed to know what to do and Fox desperately 
tried not to act too obviously out of place. They sat down again, 
avidly listening to that man in front talking about something the boy 
didn't understand. Fox barely suppressed a yawn and decided that 
watching the other people was way more fun than paying attention to 
the strange man.

The boy blushed when he found Alex sitting across the aisle. His 
friend looked just as bored, his eyes wandering around the same way 
Fox's were. When their eyes met they both broke out into huge grins. 
Fox sighed in relief; it was obvious that Alex didn't hold a grudge 
against him. He raised his hand to happily wave at the other boy only 
to find his wrist firmly grasped in a big fist, forcing his arm back 
down. The boy tried to surreptitiously glance at the sheriff who never 
took his eyes off that weird looking man in front but Fox could swear 
that Skinner growled warningly. Resigning himself to his fate, Fox 
slouched against the big man and waited until this particular torture 
of boredom was over.

His reverie ended a little while later when Fox realized that 
everybody was staring at him. The man in front smiled at him, 
announcing, "And we would especially like to welcome a new member to 
this congregation. Young William found his way into the sheltering 
arms of our very own Sheriff Skinner." Fox blushed furiously, willing 
the people to look somewhere else, and turned to whisper into the 
sheriff's ear, "What does he mean, I found my way to you? You grabbed 
me and threw me into a jail cell!" Skinner couldn't help himself, he 
laughed out loud. Then he enveloped his rascal into a bear hug, 
nodding to the reverend to continue the sermon.

For Fox one thing was clear: No matter how interesting and enticing 
this church building thing was he *really* didn't want to come back 
here. Ever again.

XXXXX

When the service was finally over, Fox all but ran outside. Alex and 
Sam Krycek were already waiting there, both smiling. "I think you boys 
need some time to be friends again," Sam said slowly, trying to find 
the right words to convey what he meant.

Alex nodded, biting his lip anxiously. "Sorry about yesterday," he 
mumbled. "I won't talk about school again."

"No, that's okay! I want to hear all about it!" Fox exclaimed, 
alarmed.

"Why?" Alex frowned. "You already know how it is, going to school and 
all."

Fox blushed and stared at the ground, unable to meet the other boy's 
eyes. "Well, yeah," he finally mumbled. "But maybe this school's 
different." He shrugged just as a heavy hand came down on his right 
shoulder. Fox looked up to see the sheriff standing next to him.

"Next time, try not to run," the big man chuckled. "Walking at a 
normal pace still gets you outside, you know." He ruffled the boy's 
hair affectionately.

His rascal blushed again. "Sorry," he muttered. "I'll try to 
remember."

"So, are you boys friends again?" Skinner asked, breaking out in a 
smile when he saw Alex nod vigorously. "Well, I'm glad," the big man 
commented, squeezing his rascal's shoulder as if to say, 'see, I told 
you everything would be okay.'

Fox smiled at the sheriff gratefully. "Can we go and play for a 
while?" he asked.

Skinner hesitated for a moment. "Okay," he said in the end. "But here 
are the rules: Rascal, you're wearing your good clothes so you will 
make certain that you're not getting them dirty. If you want to play 
like yesterday go to the cabin and change first. Also, be at Maggie's 
house by three o'clock. We're invited but I'm sure she doesn't mind 
you spending some time with your friend first." He smiled at both boys 
who grinned back eagerly.

"Yes, sir," Fox exclaimed happily before he grabbed Alex's hand and 
dragged him down Main Street at full speed.

XXXXX

The boys ran around for a while, playing catch and laughing out loud 
until they were so out of breath that they decided to slowly walk to 
the livery stable where they could sit in the shadows for a couple of 
minutes.

While strolling down Main Street towards the stable Fox's eyes 
suddenly grew huge when he saw a buggy parked in front of the saloon 
with one solitary figure sitting on the bench. "Isn't that Jeffrey 
Spender?" he asked Alex who nodded.

"Every time old Spender decides to go to church he always has a couple 
of beers afterwards," he explained.

"But why is Jeffrey waiting outside?" Fox frowned. He knew that boys 
were allowed inside; he remembered all too well his own disastrous 
trip to the saloon.

"His father doesn't want him inside. Poor Jeffrey always sits there, 
waiting till his father comes out again. Sometimes he waits for 
hours." Alex shrugged. He didn't much care for Spender or his son.

Fox, on the other hand, was appalled. "You can't be serious!" he 
exclaimed, running towards the buggy.

"Wait! Fox, what are you doing?" Alex rolled his eyes in exasperation 
when he realized that his friend wasn't listening. "Fox, this is 
dangerous! What if old Spender sees you?"

His friend ignored him; he stopped next to the buggy and looked up at 
the small boy. "Hi, Jeffrey," he said, smiling.

Jeffrey flinched, totally startled. "Oh, hello, William," he said, 
cautiously glancing through the large window into the saloon to make 
sure that his father wasn't watching.

"You can call me 'Fox' if you want to," Fox stated, matter-of-factly 
climbing up and sitting down next to the younger boy. "I bet you're 
bored, huh?"

"Fox!" Alex hissed, standing next to the buggy but on the other side 
of the saloon so he wouldn't be seen. "Get down from there! Are you 
out of your mind?"

"Shut up, Alex. Jeff is my friend. I just want to make sure that he's 
okay." With that, Fox turned to the other boy and looked at him 
closely. "How's the black eye, Jeffrey?" he asked softly, now knowing 
the real reason behind that particular injury - his friend hadn't 
fallen down, his father had beaten him. Jeff shrugged and looked at 
the saloon again. "You know, I'm not going to leave, Jeffrey, so you 
might as well talk to me."

The youngest boy stared at Fox in disbelief while Alex just groaned. 
"Are you crazy?" they both asked simultaneously.

Fox just grinned and shrugged. "Probably," he answered. "Come on up, 
Alex. I'm sure you two will become good friends!" He scooted a bit 
closer to Jeffrey to make room for the other boy and, after a few 
seconds, Alex heaved a deep sigh, convinced that his days were 
numbered, and climbed in next to the other two boys.

Keeping an eye on old Spender inside the saloon, they all began a 
lively chat. Fox was right - after a few minutes, Jeffrey and Alex 
realized that they indeed did like each other and the youngest boy 
slowly relaxed. He was happy to have someone to talk to, someone who 
actually listened, and he was eager to tell his friends about his 
music lessons and the wild horses.

"What about Spirit?" Fox asked, remembering the small horse that had 
helped him through the ordeal of enduring that stinging ointment on 
his freshly caned butt. He had instantly fallen in love with that wild 
creature.

Jeffrey's face fell considerably. "My father wants to kill him. 
Everybody tells him he's untamable. I pleaded with him to give him 
back his freedom but my father doesn't believe in something like 
that." He glared bitterly at his father who was still sitting in the 
saloon, nursing the fourth beer, talking to a couple of other rich 
ranchers.

Fox blanched. "No," he whispered. "He can't kill him!" He turned to 
Alex. "We have to rescue him!"

Alex stared at his friend in disbelief. "Excuse me? Have you 
completely lost your mind now? How are we supposed to do that, huh? No 
way, not with me!" He shook his head vigorously, crossing his arms in 
front of his chest to drive the point home.

"But there must be a way," Fox began desperately.

"I'll try to talk to my father again," Jeffrey offered but all three 
boys knew that this would be not only futile but also stupid. Old 
Spender would probably have his son's hide for his audacity.

They fell silent, each one of them trying to come up with a solution. 
Alex didn't know the horse but he was sure that, since Fox was so 
enthralled by the beast, it had to be something special. Neither one 
of them wanted to see the horse dead.

After several long and quiet minutes Jeffrey suddenly tried to shove 
Fox off the bench. "Oh no, I think my father's getting ready to 
leave," he gasped. "Run! I don't think he should see you here!"

Fox certainly didn't want to be too close to old Spender, at least not 
without his old meanie next to him, so he grabbed Alex and began to 
run down Main Street. "Hope to see you again soon," he yelled in 
parting, waving at the younger boy.

Jeffrey didn't dare wave back since his father had just stepped out 
into the bright afternoon sun.

XXXXX

Neither Fox nor Alex were in the mood to play anymore. Not after what 
Jeffrey told them. Spirit was supposed to be killed soon. They 
couldn't believe it so they spent the next hour sitting in the livery 
stable's loft trying to come up with a rescue plan.

"Maybe my Old Meanie has an idea," Fox said finally.

Alex's head snapped up. "Speaking of which," he said cautiously. "What 
time is it?"

His friend blanched. "Oh no," Fox whispered. "Please don't let me be 
late again..." He could already feel the big hand descending on his 
defenseless butt and winced.

"Come on," Alex urged, jumping down into a huge pile of hay and 
running outside. Fox followed him a few seconds later and saw his 
friend standing a little ways down Main Street staring at the church 
tower. The clock there informed him that they had barely a minute to 
get to Maggie's place. When Alex yelled the information to the other 
boy, Fox picked up even more speed, grabbed his friend and dragged him 
to Maggie Scully's house. "What are you doing?" Alex asked 
breathlessly, trying to free his arm.

"You're coming with me. I'm sure Rose won't mind."

"But what if Bill is there as well?" Alex asked fearfully, not wanting 
to run into another one of his enemies.

"I bet on it. That's why you're coming with me. I'm not going to face 
him alone!" Fox yanked at his friend's sleeve, making sure that Alex 
wasn't going anywhere except where Fox wanted him. The other boy 
wanted to argue that the sheriff would be there as well so Fox 
wouldn't be alone in the first place but it was too late. Fox burst 
through the door without knocking, coming to a halt in the front room, 
breathing heavily.

"Well, look who's here," Maggie announced, walking out of the kitchen 
to find out what the commotion was about. "Hello, Alex. That's a nice 
surprise. Would you like to join us?"

Alex blushed furiously and had half a mind to tell her that he had 
been kidnapped - until he smelled something wonderful.

"Did you make waffles, Rose?" Fox asked excitedly, a big smile 
splitting his face in two.

"Indeed I did, my boy," Maggie replied, giving Fox a kiss on his 
forehead. "So, Alex, are you staying? Any friend of Fox's is welcomed 
in my house. Anytime."

"Thank you, ma'am," Alex mumbled, staring at the floor shyly. "I'd 
love to stay."

"Alex," Skinner exclaimed, surprised. He stood in the doorway to the 
sitting room behind Miss Dana who smiled at both boys. "I hope your 
father knows you're here?"

"Well, um, no, sir," Alex stammered. "But that's okay. As long as I'm 
home by sunset..."

Fox had to grin when he heard that. The sheriff smiled as well, 
beckoning the boys in. "Well, in that case," he said, leading the way 
back into the sitting room.

Miss Dana ruffled both boys' hair affectionately before she went into 
the kitchen. "We were just going to set the table."

"Oh, no, please let me," Alex pleaded, rushing after the petite 
red-head. He flashed a grin over his shoulder that spoke volumes. Fox 
instantly understood - his friend wanted to be alone with Dashing 
Dana. Well, not as long as he had any say in that matter! Fox also 
jumped up and ran into the kitchen, leaving a bewildered sheriff 
behind, all alone in the sitting room.

The boys insisted on taking care of setting the table, shooing the 
ladies out of the kitchen with the coffee and waffles. "Looks like 
Evil Bill isn't here after all," Fox whispered and Alex nodded 
gratefully.

"Oh, what a surprise. Now we start feeding stray barbarians," came a 
comment from the kitchen door a second later. Both boys turned around 
and looked into the glaring eyes of Bill Scully. "What are you doing 
here, you little bastard?" he snarled at Alex who instantly blanched.

Fox stepped in front of his friend, trying to protect him. "Your 
mother invited him," he stated forcefully. "If you have a problem with 
that, go take it to her!"

Bill took a step closer, and the boys retreated a little. "You think 
that's funny, you little thief? It's bad enough that I have to 
tolerate *you* under my roof!"

"It's not *your* roof, it's Rose's!" Fox yelled, angrily walking up to 
Bill to confront him. He didn't expect Bill to move so fast but he 
suddenly found himself bent over and held tight under a strong arm 
while a strong hand swatted his butt with stinging slaps. Alex 
immediately jumped on top of Bill, trying to pry his arm away from 
Fox. The commotion brought Skinner to the kitchen. The sheriff 
instantly grabbed Bill and forced him to release his rascal.

"What the heck is going on here?" he demanded.

"He started it," Fox replied sullenly, pointing at Bill. Alex nodded 
vigorously. Before Bill could even mutter one sound Fox continued, "He 
called Alex bad names and then he called me bad names and then-"

"That's quite enough, thank you, Rascal." Skinner turned to Bill. "Is 
that true?" The other man glared at the boys for a few more seconds 
before he turned around and wordlessly left the kitchen. Skinner 
looked at the boys. "Are you okay?" he asked anxiously. They both 
nodded, Fox still rubbing his bottom sulkily. The sheriff walked up to 
Alex and ruffled his hair in a reassuring gesture, receiving a big 
smile in return. Then he looked at Fox and shook his head slightly, 
trying to stop the grin from spreading. The boy looked too adorable, 
pouting away in the corner. "Come here, Rascal," he said softly and 
Fox obeyed instantly. Skinner grabbed him under his arms and lifted 
him into the air effortlessly. The boy was so surprised that he gave a 
squeal of pure delight. When Skinner slowly put him down again, Fox 
wrapped his arms and legs around the big man, hugging him tightly. 
Skinner was surprised by that sudden gesture of affection but basked 
in it anyway. Squeezing the small body in his arms he softly said, 
"Next time try not to hit Bill too hard, okay, Rascal?"

Fox giggled and nodded. "I can't promise you anything but I'll try, 
Old Meanie," he replied, grinning broadly.

Skinner set him down on his feet and tweaked his nose. "Behave, 
Rascal," he said, trying to sound stern and failing miserably. "Now 
get the plates and cups inside or the waffles will get cold." He 
winked and left the kitchen.

When Fox turned around to finish stacking the china on the tray he saw 
the wicked gleam in his friend's eyes. "Alex?" he asked cautiously. 
"What are you up to?"

"This," the other boy said proudly, lifting the lid of a small jar. 
"Salt," he explained, licking his finger and sticking it inside. Then 
he offered the white powder on his wet finger tip to Fox who 
hesitantly tasted it. He shook himself and pulled a face. Definitely 
salt. But he still didn't understand what that had to do with 
anything... Alex poured a small amount into one of the cups. "Now all 
we have to do is make sure that Evil Bill gets this cup," he began, 
grinning wickedly.

The grin on Fox's face was just as wicked.

XXXXX

The waffles were delicious, the boys eagerly drank their milk and 
everybody else enjoyed the coffee - except Bill. After his first sip 
he very undignifiedly spit it out all over his angry sister whose face 
turned as red as her hair was. The boys giggled softly, knowing they 
were safe from retaliation as long as Skinner was nearby.

Miss Dana excused herself to go and change her clothes while Maggie 
finally had enough of her constantly muttering son and asked him to 
leave the table. Both Fox and Alex smiled at him with angelic faces 
and Bill was only too happy to go to the saloon. Skinner's suspicion 
grew by the second but he had to admit that even though he just *knew* 
that the boys were responsible for whatever caused Bill to lose it 
like this, the other man did deserve it so he let it pass. Besides, 
the company and the waffles were too good to spoil the mood.

"Did you know that old Spender wants to kill Spirit?" Fox asked 
suddenly. Skinner frowned, not knowing who or what this Spirit was. 
"You know, that wild horse," the boy explained impatiently.

The sheriff blinked once, then he remembered. "Really? That would be a 
shame. It was such a beautiful animal. How do you know?"

Fox blushed and ducked his head. He wasn't sure whether the sheriff 
condoned his spending time with Jeffrey, in constant danger of being 
found out by old Spender. "Um, Jeff told me," he mumbled. Then, to 
make sure that Skinner didn't have time to reprimand him for his 
foolhardy actions, he added, "We have to do something! Can't you talk 
to the old man? Maybe he'll listen to you! They say Spirit can't be 
tamed. So why doesn't he just set him free again?"

Skinner could see that the boy was agitated and he could very well 
understand that. However, he didn't have an idea how to solve the 
problem either. So he merely promised to try and talk to old Spender, 
knowing full well that it wouldn't make a difference one way or the 
other. But it calmed his rascal enough to enjoy the rest of the day.

XXXXX

The next few days flew by in a haze. Alex loved going to school, 
eagerly learning everything new. Fox was busy alternatively working in 
the Scully store with Miss Dana and helping Maggie in her house. He 
also spent time with Skinner, running errands for the sheriff and 
earning a couple of pennies here and there. Skinner and Fox had 
decided to keep a list at home in which they wrote down every penny 
the boy earned, subtracting them from the sum that he owed the big 
man. He had quite a few dollars to pay back to the sheriff for the 
clothes and boots. They had decided that the punishment for stealing 
from the Scullys would be helping out Maggie though Fox didn't see 
this as punishment at all. He worked in the Scully store earning money 
to pay his debt. The fact that Skinner let him help in his office was 
an added plus and Fox eagerly fetched telegrams or brought meals for 
the occasional prisoner.

The day always started with a bowl of porridge, then he usually 
pleaded long enough until Maggie made him waffles in the afternoon, 
followed by Reflection Time with his beloved notebook later on, and 
Skinner ended the day by reading him a few pages while he was curled 
up in the big man's lap, sitting in the rocking chair by the fire, 
before he finally fell asleep gazing at the stars twinkling through 
his window.

Fox liked the way his life was going. He still missed his sister and 
he was still going to try and find her - as soon as he had enough 
money and he had found his gun which the sheriff still hadn't given 
back. But for now life was good. Occasionally he was even able and 
allowed to meet up with Alex to wreck havoc in town. Fox liked that 
more than anything.

The boy used his time in the Scully store wisely. Everytime a customer 
came in he watched closely when they paid, remembering the way they 
counted out the money, learning the different coins and bills. He also 
remembered what certain letters or short words meant; one of the first 
he ever learned was 'salt' which cracked the boy up for almost an 
entire day. Maggie taught him how to make waffles, and she told him 
the most amazing stories. He loved listening to her, cradled into her 
arms, munching on a cookie, a glass of milk nearby.

Skinner loved the time he was able to spend with his rascal, 
especially shortly before going to bed. One night he nudged the boy 
and asked, "Why don't you ever read a couple of pages yourself, 
Rascal? I don't mind reading to you but isn't it boring for you? You 
always have to wait an entire day and sometimes the story is really 
exciting." Fox had to agree that there were times when he was on pins 
and needles. However, how was he supposed to read when all he knew 
were the few letters and words he had taught himself by chance? Not 
wanting the sheriff to find out about that he agreed to read a little 
himself "if I can find the time...I'm a busy man, after all." Skinner 
laughed, hugged his rascal and sent him to bed.

The next day, Fox smuggled his book to Maggie and convinced her that 
she just *had* to read him a story. Later, safely nestled in the arms 
of his old meanie, Fox eagerly summarized the plot of what he had read 
during the day for the sheriff. Skinner was seriously impressed and 
gave him an affectionate squeeze. "I'm so proud of you, Rascal," he 
said. "How did you find the time to read ten pages today? Good boy!"

Fox had never felt so guilty in his life.

XXXXX

Somehow, Fox couldn't believe his luck. Nobody suspected anything the 
second week running. Of course he wanted to spend more time with Alex 
and going to school would've ensured that, but he had to pay off his 
debt and he had to earn money so that he could go and find his sister, 
so he couldn't waste away his precious time in school. Besides, he did 
already know everything he needed to know in life.

Whenever he didn't know what to do he used his smart wits to help him 
out. The first day Skinner sent him to the telegraph office, telling 
him it was easy to find since 'telegraph office' was written in bold 
letters on the door, he had just asked a lady where it would be. The 
next time he needed to run an errand for Maggie he met Alex and told 
him where he had to go. Alex readily agreed to accompany him, telling 
him about school, unknowingly leading his friend to his destination. 
Fox had an incredible memory, so every time he learned something new 
he never forgot it again. Soon he knew where everything in town was, 
no matter what was written on the door or windows. He knew where most 
people lived. He was too smart for his own good.

A few days later Maggie gave him three letters to be delivered to the 
reverend, the town's attorney, and Skinner. The names were written on 
the respective envelopes and she gave the boy each letter separately. 
Fox immediately remembered the names: first letter to the reverend, 
second one to the attorney, last one to Skinner. He didn't care what 
was written on it - he knew which letter went to whom.

Until he literally ran into Bill Scully in the street, dropping the 
letters in the process. He was too scared to ask the angry man what 
was written on the envelopes; he just hurriedly grabbed them and hoped 
they hadn't mixed. First leaving the letters for the reverend and the 
attorney, he then stopped at the sheriff's office.

"Well, that's a nice surprise," Skinner said, looking up from a wanted 
poster with a big smile on his face. "Hello there, Rascal."

"Hi," Fox replied shyly. "I have a letter from Maggie. I think it's 
some kind of invitation." He hesitantly gave the sheriff the letter, 
holding his breath.

Skinner stared at the envelope for a long moment before putting it 
aside. "Thank you, Rascal. I'll read it later." He smiled, opening his 
arms. "So, I'm sure the delivery boy deserves a cuddle for his 
trouble."

Fox grinned and jumped into the sheriff's lap. "Can we go home soon? I 
want you to read me a story..."

The sheriff squeezed the skinny boy. "I do have work to do, you know," 
he chuckled. "But I'll try to get out of here as soon as I can, okay?" 
Fox nodded eagerly. "I'll pick you up at Maggie's later on, all 
right?"

"Well, I'm going to help Miss Dana in the store this afternoon," the 
boy replied.

"Oh. Okay, I'll pick you up there then." Skinner gave his rascal a 
final squeeze before sending him off with a light swat to his butt.

XXXXX

"Did you have any suspicions at all, Maggie?"

"No, Walter. Why?"

"Well, unless I've suddenly become an attorney I think we have a 
problem." Skinner showed her the envelope. "I don't understand any of 
this. I know he can read. Every day he's trying to get a few pages 
ahead in the book I'm reading to him at night. How is he supposed to 
do that when he can't read?"

Maggie looked at the sheriff over the rim of her coffee cup. "This 
doesn't happen to be a Sherlock Holmes book, does it?" she asked.

Skinner raised a surprised eyebrow. And suddenly everything fell into 
place. The fact that the boy didn't mind his seeing the drawings in 
the notebook while he always made sure that the big man couldn't see 
whatever he was 'writing' down. The fact that it was always the 
sheriff who had to calculate and write down in their list what the boy 
had earned. Several other occasions came up, each one proving that Fox 
used his wits to cover for his lack of knowledge.

Maggie put a calming hand on the sheriff's sleeve. "What will you do 
now, Walter?" she asked softly, hoping that the big man wasn't too 
furious.

"I don't know," Skinner replied helplessly. "I guess I'll have to talk 
to him." Sighing deeply, he got up to pick up his rascal.

XXXXX

Fox immediately sensed that something was wrong. Skinner seemed to 
be...sad, somehow. The boy kept up an easy chatter on their way home 
but the big man didn't say a single word. When the sheriff sent him 
inside for Reflection Time Fox grew worried. He was normally allowed 
to take care of Buck and Reflection Time usually came after supper. 
There was definitely something wrong.

When Skinner entered the cabin twenty minutes later Fox was sitting at 
the table, his notebook in front of him. "So, what are you doing, 
Rascal?" the big man asked in a neutral tone.

And Fox suddenly knew.

He must've mixed up the envelopes or maybe Skinner found out about it 
in another way but one thing was sure - the sheriff knew. Fox put the 
pencil down and stood up. He wouldn't continue to lie to the man he 
had grown to respect.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, tears pooling in his eyes. "You must hate me 
now." He looked at the sheriff for a split second, tears starting to 
run down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry!" Fox tried to run outside but 
Skinner wrapped an arm around the boy, scooping him up. Even though 
Fox was fighting, the sheriff was stronger and he held him close to 
his broad chest.

"I don't hate you, Rascal," he said emphatically. "I could never hate 
you. I'm just a little sad that you lied to me. There was no reason to 
lie to me, was there?"

Fox only cried harder so Skinner carried the boy to the rocking chair 
and sat down with his rascal in his lap. When he had finally calmed 
down Fox replied, "I don't have to know how to read and write. I know 
everything I need to know. I have to earn money so I can go and find 
my sister. And I want my gun. You still have my gun!"

Skinner squeezed the agitated boy harder until the flow of words 
finally stopped. "Listen to me, Rascal," he said gently. "It's very 
important to know how to read and write. If I had known that you had 
never learned I would've sent you to school with Alex. The money isn't 
important. And I already told you that I won't let you run off all by 
yourself to try and find your sister. I promised you to help you find 
her but you won't do it alone. Do you hear me?" He shook the boy to 
emphasize the point. Fox sobbed a little, wiping the tears off his 
face. Then he nodded, unconvinced.

"So you won't send me away?" he asked tentatively.

"Why would I do that?" Skinner replied in shock.

"Because I lied to you," Fox argued, sighing dejectedly.

Skinner hugged the boy close again, rocking him back and forth. "Now, 
now, Rascal, you are a very smart boy. You should know by now what I 
do when you misbehave. And we both know that I don't tolerate lying, 
right?"

Fox threw his arms around the sheriff's neck and almost choked him. 
"Are you gonna spank me?" he asked tearfully.

The big man smiled a little. "You bet," he answered. "After that we 
will have a serious talk about your immediate future, young man." 
Skinner held the boy at arm's length and locked eyes with him. Then he 
tapped the tip of his nose. "Starting Monday you will go to school. 
I'll go and talk to Mr. Byers tomorrow. I'm sure he'll be able to take 
good care of you. After all, Alex seems to like him a lot, right?" Fox 
smiled hesitantly and nodded. "I'll also talk to Maggie about the rest 
of your punishment as well as the money that you were earning in the 
store. I'm sure we'll find a solution." Skinner hugged the boy again 
before sending him off to the alcove. "Hairbrush, Rascal. You know 
that I don't condone of lying."

Fox sighed deeply and tearfully, knowing full well that he deserved 
the punishment. In a way he was actually happy that the sheriff had 
found out his secret.

When he came back into the main room Skinner sat on the couch. Without 
hesitation Fox offered him his hairbrush, pushed down his pants and 
crawled into place over the sheriff's thighs. Skinner ruffled his hair 
affectionately. "Good boy," he mumbled. "So brave." He took aim and 
swatted the offered bottom for the first time. Fox gasped. "Why are 
you being spanked, Rascal?" Skinner asked, bringing the hairbrush down 
on the other cheek.

"I lied to you and to everybody else. Rose and Miss Dana and Alex," 
Fox sobbed, new tears flowing freely. "I'm sorry, so sorry."

Skinner held the wriggling boy on his strong legs, peppering the naked 
butt with smacks. He watched the bottom slowly turning pink, thanking 
God that the nasty welts from old Spender's cane were gone by now. 
After three thorough rounds of spanks on the bare butt the cheeks were 
glowing bright red. Fox was definitely not going to be sitting down 
too comfortably for the next few days.

"I'm so sorry," the boy sobbed again. "Please forgive me!"

The sheriff immediately stopped the spanking, throwing down the brush 
and gathering Fox in a bear hug. "Of course I forgive you, Rascal. You 
get punished, you are forgiven. You know that!" He squeezed the 
trembling body lovingly. "I'm glad you finally owned up, Rascal. That 
was very brave."

Fox snorted in disbelief.

"Okay, let's start again. As I said before I'll go and talk to Mr. 
Byers tomorrow. He'll probably want to know a few things, like your 
full name and birthday," Skinner began cautiously. Well, he was sure 
that the school teacher did want to have this kind of information but 
it would also give the sheriff a little more insight into the mystery 
his rascal represented.

The boy stared at him blankly. "I...I dunno," he finally managed.

"What do you not know, Rascal?" Skinner asked gently.

"Well, everything," Fox replied agitated. "My name is Fox but that's 
all I can tell you."

The sheriff was speechless. After several long moments he softly 
asked, "Not even your birthday?"

They sat on the couch for a long time, a half-naked Fox curled up in 
the big man's lap. Finally the boy whispered, "I think I remember my 
birthday being when the trees changed colors...like now. I remember a 
cake with a candle on it. I was very little then. But I don't know 
anything else. I'm sorry."

Skinner soothingly caressed the back of the boy's head. "No need to be 
sorry, Rascal," he replied. The fact that the boy didn't seem to have 
celebrated his birthday for years now really confused him. What kind 
of parents would deny their children something like this? Well, he, 
the sheriff, would change that! "I have an idea, Rascal," he said 
slowly, hoping that the boy would like his proposal. "How about we 
just celebrate your birthday now? Until you can remember the right 
date or we find someone who can tell us when exactly you were born, we 
will just make up a birthday."

The big man cautiously looked into the boy's eyes and was surprised to 
see a tearful yet blinding smile. "Really? Can I have a cake?"

Skinner laughed out loud. "If you want to, I'm sure we can whip up 
something."

"Actually, I'd prefer Rose's waffles," the boy mumbled, blushing a 
little.

The sheriff laughed again. "Tell you what, Rascal. Tomorrow will be 
the day of many changes. We'll enroll you in school, we'll find a way 
to make sure you can still work for Maggie and I had a little surprise 
planned for you anyway. How about we say that tomorrow is your 
official birthday from now on?"

Fox looked at him solemnly, those ancient eyes boring straight into 
his soul. "I'd like that very much."

XXXXX

They only had a small party. Maggie readily agreed to make her 
waffles, stacking them high and placing a candle on top. Miss Dana 
came by to celebrate as well and after school Alex showed up at 
Maggie's house as well. He grinned all over his face, teasing his 
friend that he knew what the sheriff would give him as a birthday 
present later on because his father, Sam, had helped him get it. Fox 
whined and pleaded all day long, trying to find out more about this 
surprise but nobody breathed so much as a word.

When Skinner and Fox finally rode home during sunset, the sheriff 
squeezed the boy sitting in the saddle in front of him. "Did you like 
your birthday party, Rascal?" he asked.

"It was great! Thank you so much for everything. Especially after what 
happened yesterday," Fox added, blushing.

"Now, didn't I tell you that everything was forgiven, young man?" 
Skinner said, tickling the boy's ribcage as punishment. Fox giggled 
and squirmed and Skinner quickly wrapped his arm around the slim waist 
to keep the boy from falling off the horse.

"Sorry, I forgot," Fox replied. He smiled over his shoulder at the big 
man. "Today's the best birthday I ever had." Then his smile faded. 
"What's today's date anyway?" he asked, frowning.

Skinner chuckled and hugged the boy close. "Today is October the 
thirteenth, Rascal. Remember that well. It's your birthday."

"Okay." Fox leaned back into the sheriff's strong chest and sighed 
contentedly. After several minutes he softly said, "You know, somehow 
all of this just feels so right."

"Well, who knows, maybe this *is* your real birthday!" Skinner 
replied, chuckling.

"Yeah, that would be funny," the boy giggled before a big yawn 
overtook him. "Are we there yet? I'm tired," he complained.

"Too tired to look at your birthday present, Rascal?" the sheriff 
teased while they came up to the cabin.

Fox was instantly awake. Birthday present. The surprise. How could he 
have forgotten? After all, Alex had spent hours rubbing his nose in 
it! "No, sir," he said with conviction. "I'm all awake!"

Skinner laughed out loud and led Buck to the pasture. His horse 
dutifully stopped right next to the fence, waiting. The sheriff ducked 
his head to whisper into the boy's ear, "Happy Birthday, Rascal."

And a second later Fox saw a wild creature gallop across the pasture, 
coming to a stop right next to Buck, sticking his head through two 
beams of the fence to nuzzle the bigger horse's nose. The boy stopped 
breathing for a long moment, not believing what he was seeing. But 
even after blinking several times he still saw the small horse that 
was softly whinnying. He turned his head around and stared at the 
sheriff who was smiling at him lovingly. "That...that is Spirit, isn't 
it?" Fox asked, awe in his voice. The big man just nodded.

A moment later Skinner was squeezed half to death by a hysterically 
whooping Fox who had somehow managed to completely turn around in the 
saddle. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," he repeated over and over 
again, tears of laughter and joy running down his face. Skinner had a 
hard time keeping his own tears from falling. "This is the best 
birthday ever!" Fox exclaimed. "October the thirteenth is now my 
favorite day of the year!"



THE END OF CHAPTER SEVEN.


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