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might be able to… well, do what we do when the music gets loud and the rest of them all blow off

steam."

Jake felt his mouth open and closed it again. "Okay," he finally said, mystified.

Mike grinned at him. "Well, see, usually around now Doug would kind of open up the kitchen to

us--not everyone, just us--and we'd get a few good hands of poker in."

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There was a series of nods and surprisingly hopeful looks, the shuffling stopping as to a man a

dozen people waited for Jake's reaction.

Jake stared at them. "You mean to tell me that for more than ten years I hid in the bunkhouse and

there was a poker game going on?"

Sam Borden cleared his throat. "To be honest, the first couple of years we didn't ask you along because we knew why you were hidin' and this isn't entirely a dry game. Then we kinda didn't know

if you'd want to play with us, and then… well, Tornado took to keepin' you company. But now

Doug's gone, you're the boss and can't disappear, and we just kinda thought…"

Jake shook his head, a slow smile turning up the corners of his mouth. "Well, shit," he said, pointing to the door. "Too many of us for one table and I only have one set of chips."

"Got it covered," someone said, holding up a box that rattled. Another two held up cards, and there they were, trooping past Jake as he held the door open for them, each one saying thanks in his own

way and every man grinning broadly.

Jake followed along after the last of them, watching as they moved through to the kitchen and rear-

ranged his furniture to make room for the card table. They knew what they were doing, where to

sit, and where the fridge was. The way they set themselves up, it was clear that they'd been doing

this for years, and were glad to get back to it. Jake found himself smiling as they made themselves

at home, beer going in the fridge, mixing bowls full of potato chips and pretzels taking over the

counter.

"Sit, Jake," Mike said, pointing to a chair. "Your party, your deal. But don't think we're gonna take it easy on you. Heard stories about you and cards."

Jake carefully blanked his face as he sat down and picked up the cards. "All lies," he said calmly. "I don't play poker."

Hoots of laughter greeted that, and Jake grinned. This was going to turn out all right after all. Pro-

vided he didn't bet the ranch and lose.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed before a hand fell on his shoulder and Tor said, "What

the hell is this?"

Jake jumped, but didn't look up from his hand. He was working on a full house, jacks high, and he

was fairly sure he was going to win the hand and the five bucks in the middle of the table. "It's a card game," he said. "Poker. Maybe you've heard of it?"

Tor laughed and squeezed his shoulder. "Shut up. Who's winning?"

A chorus of groans came from the other table and Jake looked over to see Sam raking in the pot.

He'd been winning all night, more than Jake, even. "Go bother them," he said to Tor. "I'm busy here."

"Yeah, okay," Tor said, moving to the other table and taking a vacant chair. "Jacob's gone to sleep, 130

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out on the lawn."

"Already?" Jake asked, raising the bet at his table.

"It's after midnight."

A dozen men looked at their watches, then carried on playing cards and talking. Someone got Jake

some juice from the fridge when they fetched a beer, and Jake smiled to himself. All was right in

his world, and he kind of thought that if this wasn't as good as heading out to the meadow with Tor

for the night, it was an acceptable alternative. He'd have to call Doug Gillian and let him know that

his seat at the table would be waiting for him if he came for a visit for the next year.

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Jake drove to town with the speedometer firmly fixed on the speed limit, not a mile over or under.

His hands were curled around the wheel at ten and two, and not once did he let go, not even to turn

up the air conditioning.

If he let go, he was going to fucking kill someone and that wouldn't be a good thing.

He pulled into the school parking lot and waited for a group of kids to move out of the way, not

sure if he was vibrating from the restless stir of the truck or from anger. It was lunchtime, and there were kids all over the place, most of them looking at him. It wouldn't have taken long for word to

spread, and he was sure they all knew who he was and why he was there.

He parked and spent a minute rearranging things in the cab, stalling for time as he composed him-

self. He couldn't go in there as pissed as he was. He almost wished he'd let Tor come with him, de-

spite the argument they'd had about it. Almost, but not quite. He had to deal with this on his own.

He took a breath and steadied himself, then climbed out of the truck. The door slammed louder

than he'd intended, but he ignored it as he walked into the school. It was harder to ignore the kids

lining the halls, eating lunches and chattering, watching him with either wariness or open curiosity.

Just outside the office, Leroy and Lillian were standing next to the bulletin board, eyeing him anx-

iously.

"He's okay," Leroy blurted out and Lillian nodded frantically.

"Let's hope he stays that way," Jake growled, walking past them. He stopped and went back to

them, knowing it wasn’t their fault. "Look, I'll let him call you later, okay? Right now, just… go eat your lunch. Get back to class."

Lillian nodded but didn't move. "We know why," she said, lifting her chin. "Everyone does. And if he hadn't done it, I would've."

Jake sighed, his suspicion confirmed. "Don't take this on," he said gently. "It'll wear you down.

And I don't want you getting in trouble, too, hear? There's better ways."

"Someone has to," she said firmly. "Or it'll never stop."

"It isn't going to stop this way," Jake said. He didn't think he'd be able to make her see that, but he had to try. "This is just going to make it worse."

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She frowned at him and shook her head, her hair bouncing. "It isn't right."

"No," Jake agreed. "It isn't. But beating the crap out of them isn't right, either."

"Mr. Taggart?" a voice said behind him.

Jake turned and nodded at the secretary, then looked back at Lillian and Leroy. "Go on now. He'll

call you later."

They finally moved off, looking worried and upset, and Jake turned into the office. He wasn't really

sure what to say, so he just waited.

The secretary smiled at him sympathetically. "Go on in, they're waiting."

Jake nodded and took off his hat, following her nod to the open door of the principal's office. In-

side, he could see Jacob and another boy sitting on chairs against the wall and a man in front of the

desk. Behind the desk, Mr. Sutherland looked grim.

Jacob looked up at him, his eyes bleak and his lip swollen; his shirt was ripped at the neck and dirty

everywhere else. He looked better than the other kid, though, who had a nice shiner coming up un-

der a bag of ice.

"Mr. Taggart," Mr. Sutherland said, standing up. "Thanks for coming in."

Jake nodded and sat down in the free chair, next to what he assumed was the father of the boy Ja-

cob had been fighting. "Sorry I had to," he said quietly. He looked at the boys carefully, trying to see if there were any more injuries than the obvious. "Y'all hurt more than I can see?" he asked, and they both shook their heads at him, neither of them meeting his eyes.

He turned back to Mr. Sutherland, sparing a glance at the man next to him. "What happened?"

Mr. Sutherland held up a hand and then turned it over, palm up. "Jacob and Nicolas had words in

the yard, and it escalated to a fist fight. This is Nicolas' father, Darren Candanoza."

Jake nodded at Candanoza but said nothing, waiting.

"I was just about to explain what happens next," Mr. Sutherland went on. "For fighting that consists of pushing and shoving, we usually manage an in-school suspension. However, in this case, there

were punches thrown and injuries sustained. That is a more intense level of violence, and in our

district that dictates that the boys' discipline be firmer."

Jake turned to stare at Jacob, unable to help himself. He had no idea what he'd do with him if Jacob

got kicked out of school. "For one fight?" he said, his voice hollow. He noticed that both boys suddenly looked terrified and that the look on Candanoza's face was probably the same as his own.

"For any fight," Mr. Sutherland confirmed. "We cannot treat violence lightly, nor bullying. But as I say, we also have to be realistic. Neither Jacob, who admittedly threw the first punch, or Nick, who

pushed him verbally, are habitually problem students. They are not, generally speaking, a danger to

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other students." Mr. Sutherland stood up and crossed his arms behind his back. "The bullying is as much of an issue as the fighting."

Jake and Candanoza exchanged glances, then Candanoza cleared his throat. "Maybe you better fill

us in," Candanoza said.

Mr. Sutherland nodded slowly. "I've spoken to both of the boys and a few of the other students who were there. I know that this may not be easy to hear, but Nick was being fairly vocal about the relationship that Mr. Taggart has with his partner, and Jacob took offense. To be completely honest,

Mr. Candanoza, your son was being somewhat more than rude, and the things he was saying are

not tolerated any more than fighting is. He was deliberately provocative, crude, and malicious. Ja-

cob retaliated inappropriately, and here we are."

Jake closed his eyes and tried not to swear out loud.

"You what?" Candanoza said in a low voice, and Jake could hear the chair beside him creak.

Jake opened his eyes to see Candanoza looking at his son with an unreadable expression. "I can't

believe you--God, you know better than that, Nick." He looked at Jake and his expression changed

subtly, the muscle in his jaw twitching. "I raised him better than that, Mr. Taggart. He don't get that kind of crap in his head from home, I can tell you that much."

Jake nodded, believing him, or at least choosing to for the moment. That kind of crap came from all

over, and it didn't really matter where Nick had learned it, or when he'd chosen to believe it and

throw it back into Jacob's face. It had been done, and this wasn't Jake's fight, not this time.

Nick didn't say anything at all and Mr. Sutherland cleared his throat. "I've told Nick that it's unac-ceptable to say such things while he's at school. And I've told Jacob that violence is an unaccept-

able reaction."

"What happens now?" Jake asked, looking only at the principal and making sure that his hands

were curled around his knees and not bunched into fists. He wasn't going to hit anything; not his

fight.

"You can take the boys home with you. They're being suspended for three days each and the inci-

dent will be noted on their files. As this is Tuesday, they'll be allowed back on Monday and we ex-

pect that they'll have kept up their assignments and any extra work they have due."

Jake and Candanoza both nodded and stood up, the boys scrambling to their feet a moment later.

"Get your stuff," Jake said evenly.

Jacob nodded, not meeting his eyes, and fled the office.

"You got anything to say?" Candanoza said to his son.

"I'm sorry, sir," Nick said softly, looking at the floor, ice bag still on his eye.

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Jake wasn't sure who he was talking to, and apparently neither was Candanoza.

"For what?" Candanoza demanded, and Jake held up his hand.

"For…" Nick looked up, misery written on his face. "I'm sorry I said what I did, and I'm sorry for fighting."

Jake glanced at Candanoza. "Isn't me who needs an apology, and you'll be getting one from Jacob

after I talk to him. This shouldn't have happened."

Candanoza nodded. "Go on," he said to his son, gesturing to the door. "I'll meet you at the car. And you make sure you don't forget anything, I can't take time off work to come back."

Nick left in a rush and all three men in the office sighed.

"Damn," Jake said under his breath. He turned to face Mr. Sutherland and offered him his hand.

"Sorry about this."

"It's been a hard year for Jacob," Mr. Sutherland said sympathetically. "If it helps, I think this is a one time thing; they're both good kids, just need to sort some things out."

Candanoza nodded and shook Mr. Sutherland's hand as well, then turned to Jake. "I'll talk to him,"

he said, holding his hand out to Jake. "I'm sorry this happened."

Jake shook his hand, and shook his head again. "This isn't my fight," he said, and it felt good to say it out loud, though it ran less true than it did when he was thinking it. "But it's not one I want Jacob fighting, either. He shouldn't have hit your boy."

Candanoza shrugged. "In his place, I probably would have done the same thing, which might be

part of the problem." He sighed again and looked suddenly weary. "And now we take 'em home for a three-day vacation. Sleeping in, doing homework, and watching TV."

Jake snorted. "Not Jacob. I got a ranch to run, and that boy's going to work his ass off."

They left the office together, walking through the hall and ignoring the looks they got from the as-

sorted groups of students. Jake was glad to see that Lillian and Leroy had vanished, although he

suspected that they were with Jacob as he gathered his things.

Jake and Candanoza stepped out of the school and Jake put his hat back on, digging for the keys to