The next morning Rylan still couldn't fall back to sleep outside of the on and off state of dozing off. At least until he couldn't take it anymore and got up. He looked around for a while, at what his grandfather had tried to make his room.

The room in the process of being painted a light shade of azure blue with a bizarre mixture of his and his grandfather's belongings strewn around the place. Even if they ran out of paint and couldn't afford more to finish the job.

He somewhat liked it though, staring at the elder's old belongings. Despite the fact his grandfather has been trying to clean it out. As if the sentimental museum was a personal little way to learn more about the old man.

He walked around the room and tried to organise everything as best as he could. At least until he saw what looked like yet another photograph,hidden within a musty old book.

He picked it up from its box, the frayed cover aged to nothing but a faded picture of a horse and a title he couldn't make out. Rylan tilted his head, before he pulled out the photo from it's hiding place, or what he thought was one.

Instead, he was met with an old Washington postcard with a love note written on the back. Something which, as he read it over, realised it had once been written by his father. A sad realisation that left a longing pang in his heart as he took the post card and tucked it in his duffle bag.

He sighed softly and stared over at the book in his hand. The buckskin Mustang staring back at him from behind the cover. It took him a long time to resist the temptation to open it, eventually losing to his curiosity. His hand flicking through the dog eared pages like second nature until he was faced with another photo. At first, besides his parents, Rylan couldn't recognise anyone else in the Polaroid.

The most he could make out is an unknown young man who looks almost uncannily like Ethan. Even to the young boy, it was obvious they were related in a way. If only he knew how.

"Well, you're up early"

Rylan jumped and snapped out of it before he looked back to see Ethan leaning against the doorway. The elder in nothing but a starched white tank top and blue pyjama pants. Rylan sighed in relief before putting the book down.

"Oh...Morning"

Ethan sighed and gave him a slight smile.

"Morning"

He grunted softly as he sluggishy walked into his room, tracing his finger against a row of photo albums and books. The elder's somber eyes eventually landed on the book on Rylan's bed.

"I see you found one of your mother's things. Used to by your mother's favourite book that one"

Rylan looked at him curiously, his fingers lingering over the cover.

"Wait she used to like horses?"

Ethan chuckled softly and picked up an old Cindy doll sitting on the shelf.

"Yeah, she used to love them. I remember often times when I had the permission I used to take her to the ranch to see them. Even ride them a little though, we did visit the old Horse Barn a bunch of times back when your uncle Arnett was alive "

He explained softly as he ran his scarred up fingers across the doll's rubbery arms. A sort of faint wistfulness in his voice as he put the doll back on the shelf. Yet the more he spoke, the more he seemed to spark the young boy's interest.

"Oh...guess I learn a new thing about this family everyday...wait...you were a rancher?"

Rylan questioned curiously, but all Ethan did was hold back a laugh.

"No, I was the ranch hand. While my boss was the one running the place I was the one doing the grunt work and tending to the horses. The only way I could've been a rancher is if the stars aligned and pigs flew. It was considered a rich man's job back then, at least in this town and the general area. A respectful man's job, in other words,anything but an Indian's job...well...in their eyes anyways"

Ethan retorted sarcastically as he sat on the bed,irritatingly tugging a strand of grey hair behind his ear as it got into his eye.

"But...despite that, we still managed to come by. In fact it was never much different from the usual"

Rylan sighed and crossed his legs on the bed before looking out at the window. His mind divided in various places, between this half painted room and some place else. He looked over at Ethan, who had picked the book up and ran his thumb over the horse on the cover.

"Is it okay if I can...go out to play today? No worries just...I'll stay in your sight this time"

Ethan looked at him with a furrowed brow and put the book down.

"No, I'm afraid not today son. First thing we're doing today is getting you into a school and getting some extra wood out of the reservoir. Then we'll see if you'll be able to get in a bit of a run before dark"

"Oh"

He exclaimed disappointedly before his eyes landed on the book and all the sudden, another question popped into his head.

"Well, speaking of family...I found this in mom's book earlier. I recognise mom and dad here but I don't recognise the man next to mom, even if he looks familiar-ish"

Rylan explained as he flipped through the pages, eventually finding the old Polaroid stuck between the pages. The boy seemingly unaware of his grandfather's turn to be curious as he showed him it.

"You...know who he is?"

He questioned quizzically, waiting for an answer as the old man stared at it in silence. His brow furrowed less so in concern, but a strange sort of apprehensive anger. Eventually leading to the pair sitting in a suffocating silence Rylan had felt many times before as it rolled into the room.

"...Your Uncle...at least before the...incident"

Ethan replied lowly with a noticeable coldness behind his voice, as if he's speaking from a place of indifference. Yet, despite the indifference, it did nothing to falter Rylan's childish curiosity.

"Oh...Uncle Erin?"

He asked, only to get a soft laugh out of Ethan. Something that seemed to lift the silent impassivity for just a second, only for it to happen again.

"No. Oh no, definitely not. That's Uncle Neil. Not Erin. Your Uncle Neil well... he's...complicated"

Ethan seethed out slowly with that same cold indifference as before. It didn't take long for him to take the photo and look at it for a while, before slipping it back into the book.

"Now, enough questions Ry. I don't wanna talk about this any further. At least not until I'm ready to explain it all to you when you're older"

He retorted softly, putting the book down with a small thud. Rylan sighed slightly and looked down, fiddling with his fingers as he stared, as if entranced, at his copper skin.

"Okay..."

He replied back softly as Ethan got up to ruffle around in the boxes. His scarred and callused hands going on as if they were entities of their own. Something which seemed to fascinate him as Ethan picked up an old, polished wooden bow and wrapped it up with its quiver in plastic. His hawk-like face frozen in a state of quiet disconcern as he mindlessly put away what Rylan assumed to be his mom's belongings.

Before Rylan eventually got off the bed and picked up her old wooden toy horses as he observed the glossed up paint decorating the figurines. The boy even running his fingers over chipped off acrylic remains of war paint that was obviously added in later.

He observed it in a childlike fascination, wondering how it was like for his mother growing up in this place. How it has been growing up with these toys and surrounded by the wind blowing through the prairie like a blond horse's mane. To him it seemed strange, yet to him despite it being nothing close to normal it still felt like a childhood.

At least that was what Rylan thought. His hands still on a small figurine of a brown and white mare that was chipped on the ear. The aged figurine gently taken out of his hands by Ethan next to him as he inspected it, scowling softly upon seeing the damaged ear and chipping paint.

"Gees. See a good chunk of these need some fixing up"

He muttered sadly, putting her in Abeline's box. Rylan sighed and nodded softly, staring at her box.

"Mom's?"

He asked, to which Ethan nodded, sighing softly as he gathered up the other figurines.

"Yep. Just for extra protection. I mean, a large chunk of this stuff has gotten some heavy damage already. Now, please, enough questions for today"

He commented wearily as he closed the box for the time being. A more comforting silence falling over them as he finished up and left the room to start up their usual routine. So it didn't take long for Rylan to hear the sound of the gas stove firing up and the old pot clanking onto the stove top. The somewhat normal sounds of his grandfather's lonesome household sort of soothing in a way.

Rylan followed it out with his hand to his chest, as if to feel for his heart beat. Eventually removing his hand from his chest to continue studying his copper brown skin. His heavily bronzed skin seemingly glowing in whatever sunlight that flooded through the house. Though no matter how much he stared at it, it still felt somewhat like an anomaly. He never knew why, it just did.