Rosie Cooper hardly remembered the life she had before Eli and JoAnna came and took her to the country, but what she did remember was bad enough that she would never risk doing anything that might make them want to send her back there. Not until one particularly hot, end of summer day, at least. Armed with the sweetness of the woman who gave birth to her, the charm of her sire, the determination of the man who raised her and the fight of the woman she called "Mami," she trudged up the hill to the mesa with a large picnic hamper for the men of the family, ready to change the mind of the one man she never wanted to disappoint. At the edge of the meadow, she stopped and set down her heavy cargo and wiped her brow as she watched them all work. Fletcher and Spot hauled the milk jugs, heavy with honey, to the wagon with the hot sun on their bare backs while Will and Jesse turned the crank to spin the internal mechanism of the honey extractor, spinning the combs inside to fast that the wax and honey separated. The boys had their shirts of as well, their shoulders and cheeks red from heat and exertion. Eli, the only man she'd ever considered her father, was over with the hives, carefully pulling the racks out and preparing them and putting new racks into the boxes that they'd already harvested. His wide brimmed hard shaded his brightly colored eyes and dark hair, but it was just felt, no netting hid his face. The bees never stung him; still, he didn't tempt fate and left his shirt on and buttoned. He was so at peace high above the world, in his meadow, with his bees. She hated to ruin that, but she'd run out of time.

She couldn't put it off any longer and hoisted her basket back up onto her hip, waddling the rest of the way up the rutted dirt road to the honey hut. "Uh oh, the girls is sending spies! We must be slowin' down, boys!" Spot catcalled as he stubbed a cigarette on the underside of his boot. A wry grin spread across his sharply featured face and she let loose a small smile back at him. For some reason, even though she referred to Clarice as her cousin and Darcy as her aunt, she never called him Uncle Spot. He was just Spot. That's just how it was. Fletcher had earned himself a title of his own from her. He was Fetch and no one could tell either of them otherwise. "Fetch" winked her way, spreading her smile a little wider below the floppy straw hat shading her eyes from the sun. When she was right in front of them, she set down her wares and pulled the cover off, revealing the spread that Marta, Darcy and Jo sent them. They crowded around, stuffing their hands in, eager to fill their empty bellies, but Eli stayed the course and kept doing what needed to be done. His movements were all careful and calculated, precise but relaxed as he moved within the cloud of insects, calmed by the can of smoke at his side. "Where's that mouthpiece of yours, Ro?" Spot asked after a long draw from a stoneware jug of ginger water. He dragged his arm across his mouth and quirked his parted eyebrow at her.

She shuffled her toe along the dirt, and hid her eyes under her hat. "Cyarey stay at da house."

He frowned, but she wouldn't look at it. She trained her eyes on her father as he slowly waded out of the haze of honeybees. "Do it again," Spot demanded. "Do it again and do it right. Ya mother would have a fit if she heard that." She glared down at her dusty boots, hating the way everyone was always picking at her speech, trying to make it perfect. It was hard to remember everything!

Will sidled up next to her, thirteen years old and nudged her with his elbow. "Just like we practiced. With your tongue out." His gentle, deepening, country twanged voice gave her the push she needed.

She shoved her hat back so it hung behind her on it's ribbon and stared challengingly into Spot's nearly colorless eyes. "Cllllllllllllllllarey," she enunciated with her tongue between her teeth, "stay-ded at thhhhhhhhhhe house." She looked up at him, her green eyes hard. "Told her to stay. Needa talk to Daddo."

He grinned crookedly at her bravery. "Good enough for me kid." She stole another look at the bank of beehives and nearly took off running back down the hill. He was coming, smiling at her and whistling happily. He always whistled when he was having a good day and the whistle days lately outnumbered the quiet days where he only used his hands to talk. She didn't want that to change.

Will stayed by her side. "Go on," he whispered in her ear, giving one of the long chocolate brown braids down her back a tug. "You'll never know if you don't ask him. It can't be that bad." They all took a step back, retreating with their sandwiches to give her and Eli a bit of privacy.

He sauntered up, looking curiously at the others as they tried to keep their eyes down. She smiled at him, forcing her lips to curl and stretch as she handed him a sandwich. "Hi Daddo."

He smiled, tapping her nose before pulling her over under the shade of a big cottonwood tree. He sat down with his back against the trunk and she nestled herself in between his long legs, smiling to herself. She'd loved him since the moment he sat down on the floor with her at the home in New York. No one else had ever sat with her, they all glared down at her like there was something wrong with her. But he came in and sat down and began drawing on a slate. She snuggled in deeper, resting the back of her head on his chest. "S'wrong, Rrrrrosie?" he asked in his quiet way.

She tucked her head and he brushed her cheek with his rough fingers, chuckling at the way she tried to hide. He often told her that Mami did the same thing. "Cllllllairey will go to 'chool tom'ow," she said, swatting at his hand. He chuckled again and unwrapped his sandwich.

"Mmhmm," he murmured, reaching around her to hand over half of his sandwich. The part of her that remembered being hungry wanted to take it, but she knew her own lunch was waiting back in the kitchen. Her braids gently hit his middle as she shook her head. "Wwwwe…we'll sssss'art after the hhhhoney is in."

She stole a glance up at him, knowing that she was about to break his heart. "I yanna go too. To town 'chool."

Immediately, his brows dipped low and pinched together and he chewed on the inside of his bottom lip. "Yeah?" he asked in a low, uncertain rumble. She nodded hopefully and the corner of his mouth lifted. "D-d-d-did you ask Mami ah-al-alrrrrready?"

"She say you." The words tumbled out and she knew they were wrong but could do nothing to stop them. She pushed off of him in frustration and kicked the scrubby grass. "She say to ask you."

He smiled at her proudly before his hand raised to the back of the neck, slowly dragging back and forth. "Lllllllllllemme," his eyes raised to hers as his cheeks flushed a deep red. His mind couldn't focus on the words. The guilty look in his bright eyes told her that he didn't want to be upset by her request, but he was. "Llllllllemme ffffffffinish here. We….we talk llllllllater. At d-d-d-d-dinner." She nodded solemnly and backed away from him, unable to look at how upset she made him. "Rrrrrrro," he stammered pleadingly, but she shook her head and ran over to where the two brothers sat and wedged herself in between them. She stayed there, cocooned by their sticky, sweaty bodies until all the food was gone and everyone needed to get back to work.

Will and Jesse helped her pack up all of the paper and water jugs back into the hamper, keeping her flanked and protected. "He'll come 'round," Will said with a smile as he hoisted up the basket and handed it to her. She pulled her hat up before she took it from him and kept her eyes low, but tried to smile for him, thankful that she had a friend like him who could always make her feel better.

Back at the big house, no one asked Rosie how it went. His answer was written all over her face. Marta grabbed her braids and tied them under her chin, forcing a smile out of her. "Don't you worry, Rosie Posie," she said with a crinkle of her nose. Rosie smiled wider as she was surrounded by a curtain of thick, copper curls and Marta's nose rubbed against hers. "He'll do what's right. Give him a little time to think about it." Rosie nodded and pulled away, but Marta held her tight. "I never saw another boy who wanted to go to school so bad. He'll realize how wrong he would be to keep you from it."

She sighed heavily. "Why he didn't say yes?" she asked. "I can't talk good 'nough yet?"

Marta smiled wide and pressed the girl's soft cheeks between her hands until her lips puckered. "You are talking so well! It's not because you did anything wrong, Sweets, its because he's worried about you. He just needs to let his heart catch up to his head."

"She's right, Love," Mami added, smiling a gentle smile as she tucked a towel into her apron strings. "You're ready and we will make sure you go with the others tomorrow. Daddo will just have to put his feelings aside and let you do what you need to do." Rosie sighed and leaned into her mother's arms. "Come on Love, we all have more work to do."

Rosie and Clarice took care of tidying the three houses and watching the younger children with the mothers jarred up the honey that Will drove down from the mesa. Five year old Teddy wanted nothing more than to be one of the big boys and was steadfastly attempting to clean the barn like he'd seen his older brothers do while three year old Cooper, two year old Rusty and nearly two year old Caroline toddled around, chasing butterflies and playing. Clarice tried to entice Rosie to play with their dolls or skipping rope once their work was done, but Rosie refused. She couldn't play until she knew what her father was going to do.

Clairey plunked down next to her on the front steps of the big house with the torn knees of her stockings exposed. "If he don't let you go, I ain't going either. We stick together."

Even though it was a nice thought, Rosie shook her head. "No, you go to 'chool, Cyarey." She looked deep into her best friend's eyes. "I yanna you to go."

Clarice stomped her booted little foot and scowled. "I don't wanna go without you! It ain't fair! Uncle Eli can't split us up! We do everything together! Alway have!"

"You don't owe it to him to stay here just because he likes teaching you, Ro," Aunt Darcy said, sitting down on her other side. But she was wrong. Rosie owed him everything. At seven, she still knew that she was different. She knew that no one else would have adopted her and that she'd be in a hospital, wasting away if he hadn't come. He was the only one who understood her and she repaid him by telling her she didn't want to stay with him. Her breath caught in her throat and she was up and on her feet, running up the hill.

She didn't stop until she could see him, sitting on the bench seat of the wagon, ready to drive the latest load of honey down to the house. At the sound of her pounding feet and gasping for breath, he hopped down and ran to her, meeting her halfway. She launched herself into him, her arms gripping tightly around his middle. He held her as she blubbered and cried into his stomach. "Ro?" he asked, hoisting her up to his hip. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, burying her face in the curve of his thick neck and strong shoulder.

She begged him not to take her back to the orphanage, that she'd be good and stay with him, but in her panic, she was completely incoherent. With great difficulty, he fought the weak muscles in his other arm to get his hand up high enough to tip up her chin as she shushed her tenderly. "D-d-don't c-c-cry," he pleaded. "T-tell me."

"I stay! I stay here! I don't go 'chool! Don't make me yeave!" He smoothed her hair back and kissed her forehead, starting back down the hill with her still in his arms. He didn't say anything to the others. He didn't even give them a backwards glance, as if she was the only thing that mattered because, in that moment, she was.

Clairey stood on the steps still with her hands on her straight little hips and fire blazing in her icy eyes. He set Rosie on her feet, but she still clung to him, terrified to let him out of her sight. "Not nnnnow, B-b-buttercup," he said, trying to move past the tiny blonde in front of him. Everywhere he moved, she planted herself in front of him. He growled at her in frustration. 'I need Jo-Jo!' he signed gruffly after prying his good hand out of Rosie's grasp.

"Don't you growl at me, Mister!" the petite seven year old snapped. "You're the one causing trouble!" He stopped, his hand coming to rest on Rosie's head. "You made her cry! And no one makes her cry around me!" She was as fierce as Spot himself, back in the day. "Her and me, we're going to school tomorrow with the boys and there's nothing you can do to stop us! Right, Rosie?"

Rosie peeked up at him, "I don't yanna make Daddo sad. I stay. You go, Cyarey."

He dropped to his knees in front of her, instinctively reaching up to push his hair back, knocking his hat to the dusty earth. 'I don't need you to stay for me. You're ready. You need to go with the others in the morning. I was coming to tell you." She stared into his eyes. Besides little quips and teases, we wasn't one to waste words on jokes, but she couldn't believe him, not after the heartache she saw in those depths earlier. She shook her head, but he stopped her. 'You're going.' His face was stoney and serious. 'I'll be here when you get back. Go make sure you have a clean dress." He gave her a gentle shove towards their little house on the opposite side of the big house as Spot and Darcy's. She took a few steps before he stammered, "Aaaaaand Ro?" She stopped and turned, looking back at him. "Nnnnnnnnothing will mmmmmake me take you b-b-back." Her eyes widened as the met with his again and he stared at he deeply. "Thhhhhis is your home. Wwwwe are ffffffamily. Nnno t-take backs." She ran back to him, nearly knocking him over with the sheer force of her affection.

"P'omise?"

"I p-pro-promise," he growled in her ear and every cell in her body relaxed against him as she sighed in relief. She was going to school. Like a normal kid. She couldn't wait.

A/N: Skits won't talk to me, but Rosie is a chatterbox...so I finally typed up this little blurb. There will be a second part, sooner if Skits decides he wants to keep wallowing in self pity or later if he decides to move on with his chapter of FWD.