Louder than Thunder [Sam]

It was a symptom of getting older, Sam realized, but more and more he found himself looking back to when *he* was quite young, the age of these kids he helped, and thinking the world made so much more sense then. That was back before two wars, back before the world seemed to go more insane every day.

And now these kids were growing up, some undisciplined and coddled by their parents, others born to parents who couldn't care less, kids without families, without fathers, without structure or positive influence, without morals or grounding to build themselves up on, and then thrown out into a world gone mad and expected to fend for themselves. And then they punished these kids for turning out exactly as they had been set up to be, wild, undisciplined kids with no one to turn to, who acted out their fears and uncertainties in angry, aggressive ways, because they had never been taught any better.

Sam couldn't save them all. But he could save a few of them. He'd spoken to Mr and Mrs Fawkes about their son, as they offered money, offered pleas to help their out of control child. He wondered which category the boy would end up falling into...overindulged and spoiled, or window dressing to his parents perfect life but otherwise neglected. Either way, it made him angry, he wished people could see the damage they did and care more.

He hadn't expected the cab, instead he'd anticipated a trip to the airport later in the day to collect the boy, his flight must have gotten in early. Yet he'd actually come all the way out here, instead of trying to bolt as soon as he was on the ground...that was something Sam had seen in the past. He stepped out of one of the out buildings, walking towards the cab and the angry looking young man scowling at the place around him as though he'd been sent to his death sentence.

"You Jamison Fawkes?" He asked, extending a weathered hand to him. "That what you wanna be called, or you prefer something else?" He asked.

Jamison squinted an eye against the dust that the cab kicked up as it peeled off, spitting to the side with a distempered growl, "asshole." He already hated this place, it smelled like a farm, which was logical, but unpleasant nonetheless, and his temper only managed to be flared more when he saw the man, he assumed the owner, approaching him.

He looked like a guy who could kick his ass, so he fixed him with a narrowed eyed glare when he approached, "Jamie. People call me Jamie." He looked up at him, though there wasn't much looking up to do, he'd always been a fairly tall boy for his age, Sam still imposed over him however, it was an uncomfortable feeling that agitated him and made him feel like an animal trapped in a cage, "lets just get this shit over with, a'ight?" He moved to brush past him, keeping his head low and his eyes cast to the ground, "what am I gonna be doing in this middle of nowhere fuckhole?" He glanced back at him with an utterly disinterested grimace, an impatiant glare that said hurry up I'm ready to get this done.

Sam had not really expected a warm or even friendly greeting, so he wasn't overly put off by the other's reaction. These kids were sent out here, generally against their will, sent out here as an alternative to prison, or maybe just because their families didn't feel like dealing with them anymore, and didn't really have any reason to be excited about being here.

He turned to keep in step with Jamie. "I'm going to show you where you'll be staying. Then I'll show you around and what you'll be doing." He paused, jerking his head in the opposite direction. "You're gonna wanna go this way, not much out that way." He indicated the way Jamie had been walking.

He waited for the other to join him, taking him to one of the bunk houses where he'd be staying with a handful of the other ranch hands, a few of the more tolerant ones who'd better put up with an insolent boy, without just jumping to beating the crap out of him for mouthing off.

"First thing though. I get it. You're angry. You're allowed to be angry. But you *will* show some respect while you are here. This 'fuckhole' as you put it, is my home....it may well never have been asked of you in the past, but while you are here you will show respect to myself, to my employees and to this property." The words were not spoken in anger or aggression, just in the simple tone of one who expected his words to be obeyed.

Jamison tried to hide the hot wash of embarrassment when the man redirected him, pushing past him again to follow where he was leading him, "a'ight." He had to admit that a bed in a bunkhouse was probably better than he'd been expecting, he'd give the man that, not out loud of course, but the thought was still there.

The whole Ranch wasn't wholly bad to look at, but the whole thing was soured by the events that led up to him being sent here, a series of events triggered by an especially volatile situation with his parents, and he was the one being punished. No one had ever thought to ask him what was going on, and he supposed that was why he was so bitter about this.

He stopped short when the man began to speak, fixing him with a bored glare, "Mmhm." So he'd been spoon fed the same shit story they fed everyone, Jamie was an out of control problem child, needed to be beaten harder to straighten him out, he snorted and fixed the man with a sardonic grin, "angry ain't the word for it. I'm pissed. I'm pissed as hell that I gotta be dragged out here to the middle of ass fuckin' nowhere." He shrugged and turned from him, a sign of disrespect, "bet they spun a good little story for you, huh?" He shrugged and spat to the side, "lets just get this damn tour over with so I can get this shit over with."

Sam took a couple of steps, and moved in front of Jamie, arms crossed over his chest. "Alright. How about you tell me your side of the story." He countered. "I've heard your parents' side...now how about yours?"

He didn't expect to be answered, at least not an answer with any substance. It'd undoubtedly be just another string of anger and obscenities. He might be more willing to talk about things after a couple early mornings and a couple days of hard word to burn out some of that anger and extra tension and energy. But he still waited for whatever answer the other decided to give him, continuing to stand between him and the bunkhouse.

Jamison looked up at him when he stood in front of him, a rebellious glint in his eyes, he could tell him, tell him every single thing that had happened, exactly why he was a bad kid, why he was even here in the first place. But Sam wanted that, and Jamison didn't feel entirely comfortable letting him in like that, so instead, he narrowed his eyes with a scowl, "No." He turned from him, he didn't want to be here, and he didn't want to tell this stranger his life story, "lets just...Get this shit over with...Okay?" His tone didn't carry nearly as much bite, but it was evident that he was still incredibly agitated and angry, the sooner they could get moving, the sooner he could distract himself. He glanced up at the man expectantly.

Sam actually blinked at this, he'd expected more vitriol and anger spewed out at him. But he didn't push.

"Up to you." He shrugged and started walking again.

He entered the first cabin, it was simply furnished but at the same time a nice and comfortable space, bunks on one side, a small kitchen space and seating area on the other side. He glanced at the beds, before pointing one out to him. "That one's yours, closet space next to it you can use too. Rest of the hands are working right now, but you'll meet them tonight. You'll get up with them, you'll work with them, probably harder'n you ever have in your life. You'll learn the ropes of this place."

He lingered by the doorway. "I'll give you a little time to settle in...anything you need? Dinner will be in the main house at six." He indicated the larger house a short distance from them, two stories with a wrap around porch around most of it.

Jamison was glad to start walking again as they approached the bunk house, stepping inside it did feel like a reasonably comfortable environment, all things considered, but he figured it wouldn't feel quite as much so when the men came back and crammed in. Bunking with a handful of strangers sounded wildly unpleasant, and he found himself dreading the experience, "Right." He said simply, making his way over to the bed to set his bag down.

He looked back at his words, that hostile glare returning to his eyes, "work comes in a lot of different forms. Watch what you imply." Maybe it hadn't been backbreaking labor, but forcing that dollhouse smile and projecting to the world that you weren't having the life beaten out of you was work to him, though he supposed Sam had no way to know that.

He glanced over at him when he asked if he needed anything, shaking his head, "No. I'm good." He turned from him before muttering in a hostile tone, "you can go now. I'll be at the house at six." He was mostly just eager to be alone for a little while, out of his element and outnumbered, he just wanted the space.

There it was, the hostility was back, just like that. "Suit yourself. But after spendin' twelve hours cleanin' up after cattle...if you still wanna tell me that ain't hard work compared to whatever it was you did before...we can talk about that then."

He was still trying to get a bead on him, he supposed figuring the boy out would come a bit more with time however. Right now, he was more or less acting like the typical angry, troubled kid, but nothing tremendously out of the ordinary.

He arched a brow slightly at being basically dismissed, but turned to go. "Just remember what I said about respect. These men...probably won't be as tolerant of your mouthing off as I am." he warned, before turning and heading back to the house. He still had work to get done before he lost the light, the truck was acting up and he needed to get it running again before the morning, or it would make getting out to the further out areas harder.

Jamison was up before the sun today, before most of the other workers were even close to waking up, work had been tough for the last four days, his body ached in ways he didn't even know it could, but he'd always been a fairly strong boy, so he was doing an okay job pulling his weight.

He'd had a few moments with the other men where his mouth had gotten him into a verbal scuffle or two, but they hadn't hazed or bullied him like he'd been afraid of, he wouldn't admit it for love or money, but this place was worlds better than where he'd come from, there weren't nights where he was locked out to sleep in the cold, or days where he went without a meal for fear of even leaving his room, he had a bed, and assured meals, and even if he was still a temperamental little shit, he'd gotten a bit better in the respect department. Just a bit.

He'd noticed the truck acting up the first day when he heard Sam trying to start it, and for the past few days, he'd had little luck in fixing it. Jamie wasn't a learned mechanic by any means, but he'd always been fairly interested in cars and how they worked, he had a fairly good idea of what was wrong with the vehicle, he just needed to sneak out before anyone woke up to tinker with it.

He'd borrowed Murphy's tools from the bunkhouse before setting out to where the truck was parked, that was nearly an hour ago, He poked his tongue out as he tightened a last bolt, wiping sweat and oil from his face before shutting the hood. Now it was just time to see if it'd work, he glanced at the position of the sun now rising over the horizon before laying on the horn to get Sam's attention, it was time to wake up anyway.

The last couple of days had not been without bumps...but they'd been doing surprisingly well. Jamie still mouthed off and still seemed a fairly angry young man, but all things considered...he did the work asked of him, he made an honest effort to pull his weight, he hadn't started any fights or sabotaged or destroyed anything. He seemed more like a kid who just wanted a chance to prove he had something useful to offer, instead of someone who didn't want to be here at all and dug in their heels and fought every inch of the way.

He was already up when he heard the horn going off outside, helping Sarah put together breakfast. Or at very least the coffee part of breakfast. The two exchanged a glance at the horn, and taking his cup of coffee with him he stepped outside, giving a little involuntary shiver as he did, it was getting chillier in the mornings, soon they'd have to start the winter prep.

He crossed the yard to the truck, feeling a twinge of suspicion as he did. What had he been doing with his truck? It still hadn't been working right, but hopefully he hadn't made things worse.

"The hell you doin' in my truck?" He called as he got closer, not angry, but well...Jamie better have a good answer to that question.

Jamison had been too proud of himself to even consider that Sam might be more pissed that he was messing with his shit than he was pleased that the thing was running, so when he saw him he had to swallow down the anxious feeling, replacing it with a cocksure grin, "mornin'!" He waved, then pointed it at it, "I been workin' on it all mornin'!" He chuckled and climbed out of the driver's seat, patting the side of it as he approached the man, seeming to not even notice the chill in the air, "got ya keys? She'll purr like a kitten now. Guarantee." He cleared his throat, "hope ol' Murphy ain't too cross...Had to borrow his tools." He shuffled and stepped back a little, "try her out!" He was eager to see if his efforts had been fruitful or in vain, and he still couldn't fight off the anxious feeling that Sam might react with anger, he hadn't hit him yet, but it was so second nature to him that at this point he was just waiting for it.

Sam frowned at him for a moment, handing over his coffee cup before climbing in the driver's seat. Reaching over he fished the keys out of the glove compartment and put them in the ignition. As he turned it over, it sputtered for a few tense moments, before kicking over and roaring to life. He listened to the sound, steady and unwavering, and started to grin as he did.

"Well, I'll be damned." He leaned over to clap him on the shoulder. "I've been fightin' this damned thing for a week...what'd you do?" He asked curiously.