Unexpected Detours

By: Ridley

A/N:As promised...A Father's Day story! Of course it got out of control in length but I could not resist celebrating with a bit of Mac and Jack. It is a bit different but I so hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you have not read How Wolves Change Rivers or the sequel Casting Mountains in the Sea, there might be a bit of confusion, but nothing that won't be too much to overcome. Ps. Guard Your Heart will have my full attention after this for those who have written me about its conclusion. I am always so open to hearing your thoughts and comments! My wonderful beta, Mary, kept me honest on this one as always, and put her special touch in all the right places. Also, kudos to the the talented Poxelda, who let me borrow her Nurse Sallly for reference!

RcJ

By the time Phoenix's jet was preparing to make the unexpected touch down in Austin, Texas, Angus MacGyver was completely doubting his decision to arrange the unorthodox layover. One look at his sleeping partner across the aisle had that nagging doubt doubling. They had the shades slid down over the windows, fostering some much needed rest that had still eluded Mac during the long flight. But even in the cabin's minimal light the dark bruising stood out on Jack's face, the sling securing his arm to his chest easy to make out.

They were returning from a mission that although successful in its completion, had been a disaster on many fronts. What Matty had informed them was a retrieval of the kidnapped daughter of a Consul General from a U.S. Embassy turned into a disaster-fraught chase of two star-crossed lovers through the streets of the less than stable city of Ankara. Turkey, from its coup-plotters to the insurgence of radical Islamic groups had enough problems without the scandal of a U.S. diplomat's progeny absconding with a suspected young Kurdish activist. Finding out the girl had in fact not been taken for ransom or for retaliation was a relief to her well-connected parents, but the truth was a potential political nightmare for the US government whose tenuous relations with the Turkish people was strained at best.

"Jack?" Mac leaned over speaking his partner's name, hating to wake him but knowing that he had to give him the heads up as they were approaching Austin, a detour Jack knew nothing about. The older agent stirred, the pain pills the ER doctor had insisted upon keeping him from his usual alertness. He mumbled something, his brow furrowing, but didn't wake right away.

Mac sighed. The pained grimace on Jack's face even in sleep had him once more questioning his wisdom. Despite the kidnapping being off the table, Jack and Mac were assigned the task of discreetly finding the Consul General's daughter. Discretion would not have been a problem had the Kurdish boy's father, a rumored high ranking official in the People's Democratic Party, not have taken Mac and Jack's involvement as a nefarious plot to undermine his position and quite possibly as an assassination attempt on The US's behalf. In the end, there had been gun play, a few minor explosions, and one diverted massive bombing thanks to Mac's knowledge of a certain infamous Syrian terrorist's unique trigger mechanism.

The love-struck girl had been recovered, all Romeo and Juliet scenarios thwarted, mass destruction averted, but not before, as usual, Mac and Jack had ended up on the bad end of several scenarios. One which found Mac, after having successfully disarmed the Syrian terrorist's dirty bomb, hanging precariously from Atakule Tower, one of the more famous landmarks of Ankara, and as luck would have it the couple's 'special place'.

Honestly, Mac could understand the draw as the rotating restaurant at the top was the ideal spot for a romantic dinner with a perfect 360 degree view of the city's lights. The observation deck was not, however the best place to have a showdown with militant opportunists who had seen the 'misunderstanding' as a perfect way to further their agenda by creating an international incident, killing a whole lot of innocent people, including the American girl and her Kurdish lover. During the fray, Mac had been shoved over by a mercenary who had just winged Jack with a bullet meant for the US Consuls General's daughter. To say Jack was pissed was a gross understatement.

"Rise and shine, buddy." Mac nudged his partner, the light touch accomplishing his objective as Jack jerked awake. He was instantly in defense mode, searching the cabin around him for any possible threats.

"Mac?" Jack blinked rapidly trying to clear his vision.

"Sorry. I'm here." Mac briefly rested his hand on his partner's arm this time, giving him an anchor to the present, assuring the area was clear of danger. His fingers cramped a little at the move, his wrist twinging. Mac was reminded that Jack wasn't the only one who had his share of bumps and bruises from their latest job. If not for Jack's quick rescue, Mac might not have made it back in one piece, or he'd been in several pieces at the bottom of the tower.

Thankfully for Mac, Jack Dalton wasn't one to let such things as a little bullet wound or three armed to the teeth terrorist stop him from his priority mission. He'd shot his way past the men trying to keep him from his objective, foregoing a bullet for the guy who'd dared to put Mac in jeopardy, instead drop kicking that poor soul into empty space where he fell to a gruesome death almost 500 feet to the wooded hills below. Mac, of course, wasn't witness to any of this, except for the plummet of the unfortunate villain, as he was focusing all his attention on barely clinging to the railing he'd managed to grab as he went over until Jack could pull him up.

"You okay?" Jack pushed himself up in the seat with his good hand, not quite managing to stifle a pained grown as his gaze quickly went to Mac. "Are you hurting?"

"No," Mac answered easily, though it was obvious to Mac that his partner was. Jack had managed to pull him up just in time. Mac's right wrist was sprained, and his ribs had been injured either from the tussle before he went over or when he'd slammed into the side of the tower after managing to stop his fall. Mac's answer had Jack turning in his seat, bringing his good hand protectively over his sling as he leaned forward to study Mac closer. Mac was quick to clarify. "I mean, yes, I'm fine, and no I'm not in pain."

"Then what's wrong?" Jack relaxed against the seat, glancing towards one of the windows even though the sky beyond them was shielded from view. He gave a big yawn, rubbing at his forehead. "Damn. Are we already in LA?"

"Not exactly." Mac hedged. The hospital run which they had both conceded to only under a threat from Matty put them over their timeline, pushing their exfil from Turkey even later due to the debriefing at the American Embassy. They had planned to be back home on Saturday instead of Sunday evening. Usually it wouldn't have mattered, but this particular Sunday had been unique in that it was Father's Day. "We're about to touch down in Texas."

"Texas?" Jack scrubbed a hand through his hair as his eyes narrowed in confusion. "Don't tell me Matty came up with another job stateside? Does the woman have no mercy?"

"This was my idea," Mac confessed, circling Jack's question. He, for one, could care less if it was Father's Day, but he knew for a fact Jack had a ritual for the day which involved a visit with a marble tombstone, a six pack and a conversation with his father. The fact Jack Dalton Sr. was six feet under and unable to share said beer or respond in kind to any funny antics Jack may relate not thwarting Mac's partner.

"I don't understand." Jack gave another yawn, stretching this time. "I thought we were in a hurry to get home, man."

"We were, but even if we flew straight back to LA, I knew we'd have hours of debriefing, and then Matty would have made us go to medical, where their treacherous Nurse Sally would have no doubt ran every scan and test possible before clearing us." Mac's mouth twitched slightly. "You know we're her favorites."

"You mean you're her favorite. She just picks on my because I'm always in the same vicinity. I'll admit the woman is as thorough as hell and a tad bit sadistic, but I gotta say running away to Texas is somewhat extreme for avoiding Oversight's interrogation and the evil elf's medical measures even for you, bud."

"I ran a math model that predicted we wouldn't be out of headquarters until way after dark, probably close to midnight." Mac rubbed his hand on his jeans as the voice of their pilot broke over the intercom announcing that they should prepare for landing. Eddie, one of Phoenix's regulars, had at one time had lofty dreams of being a commercial pilot. Sometimes he had a habit of delivering the weather and tourist highlights of wherever they were landing, even remote, war torn destinations, which he found completely amusing. If you asked Mac, most pilots, Jack included, had a bit of crazy in them. He was glad that Eddie stuck with the forecast this time, reporting in his overly jovial voice that it was currently a balmy 89 and overcast at Bergstrom International airport.

"Bergstrom? Are we in Austin?" Jack looked more puzzled now as he slowly turned to buckle his seatbelt. "Dude, just tell me what the hell is going on."

"I arranged for us to have a layover so you could go see your grandparents." Mac busied himself fastening his own belt to avoid Jack's gaze. Eddie wasn't always the best at smooth landings. Jack swore the man could land a jet on a dime when it came to touching down on an aircraft carrier in the middle of the ocean, but Mac wasn't as confident as he'd seen the man miss the mark on a perfectly wide runway.

"Did something happen? Are they okay?"

The slight fear in Jack's voice caught Mac off guard. He hadn't thought that his partner might assume the worst. "Their fine, Jack. I swear. JP doesn't even know we're coming."

"Then what gives, brother?" Jack waited for Mac to finally look at him. "What's up with you? I'm all for a visit to the ranch but Matty can't have liked the unscheduled vacation time. Especially after what went down in Turkey and with Bozer and Riley gone to Mission City..."

"It's Father's Day." Mac felt heat race up his neck, probably coloring his face as he shrugged when Jack's mouth went slightly agape as if he didn't know what exactly to say to that explanation.

"So it is," He finally said slowly, in a voice Mac recognized as the one he used when he woke Mac from a particular vivid nightmare, or was trying to be supportive but didn't quite understand why Mac was all worked up about a concept Jack just didn't get. "Maybe it's the pain killers the doc insisted I take, but I'm still not exactly connecting the dots, Kid."

"You always spend the day with your dad and I know this isn't the same, but I thought it might be even better, because you can actually spend time with JP, and I think your dad might appreciate you being with his father even more than a one-sided chat with him at his grave." Mac rushed to explain, practically tripping over his words. When Jack only continued to stare, deep frown lines marring his brow, Mac was suddenly certain that he'd made the wrong choice. After all, what did he know about Father's Day? He couldn't even remember the last time he'd celebrated the overly commercialized holiday. His grandfather had ignored the occasion. He was sonless after all, and Mac fatherless. What did such an event hold for them, but painful reminders? Mac had occasionally gone to the huge cookouts Bozer's family threw, the one Riley was attending with him this year, but had begun begging off long before he left for MIT.

"You make a good point." Jack still looked a little taken aback. He tilted his head, narrowing his gaze. "You actually talked Matty into changing her written in stone itinerary so I could spend the day with my grandfather?"

"It was more liked I begged and cajoled. Even then she only gave us the evening." Mac might have also thrown in some guilt for the bad intel, even if that one fell squarely on the shoulders of those higher up than their director. He'd casually tossed in his and Jack's injuries, even playing them up a bit. He'd also brought up how a simple kidnapping, if a kidnapping could be simple, had nearly turned into a double murder not to mention a massive bombing that would have sent shockwaves rocking through several nation's including their own if not for Jack and Mac's intervention. "We're supposed to be back at Phoenix first thing Monday morning."

"Still, that's impressive." Jack shook his head. "I'm touched you'd do that for me, bud, that you'd even think about my visiting the old man on Father's Day, especially in light of the last few days we've had. Honestly, I almost forgot it was today and I know it's not the easiest day for you."

"Don't be too flattered," Mac gave a quick grin, ignoring Jack's mention of how Mac might feel about the day. The truth was Mac had wanted to plan the trip for Jack even before the Turkey incident, the idea striking him after another fateful mission had prompted a phone conversation with Jack's grandmother, Beth. This latest unfortunate job had actually given him the little push and opportunity he needed. "I was also really craving fried chicken and cherry pie."

"I should have known you had an ulterior motive." Jack snorted, relaxing back in his seat. "And what makes you think Nana Beth is making cherry pie? If you've forgotten, my favorite is dessert is peach cobbler, and I'm her grandson. If she knows I'm coming that will be on the table for sure."

"Do you want to bet?" Mac raised an eyebrow in challenge as the wheels of the plane struck the tarmac, bouncing them both in their seats. He reflexively gripped the leather arms, feeling every bit of the jar to his bruised ribs. "Fifty says she'll serve cherry pie."

"How am I to know you two aren't in on this little wager together, going to split the pot after pulling one over on me?" Jack braced his good arm on the seat in front of him. "She's my nana but the woman is a shrewd business tycoon, and you wormed your way into her good graces that first time I brought you home after we left the desert-all scrawny kicked puppy and doe-eyed like you were."

Mac huffed at the unflattering, albeit probably accurate description of his state after Afghanistan. "You have my word there was no mention of pie when I texted her to let her know we were stopping by for a surprise visit." He unbuckled his seat belt as the plane slowed to a taxi. "What is it you're always telling me? One of the Dalton's family creeds…scared money never wins?"

"Fine." Jack leaned forward pointing a finger at Mac. "But let's make it an even C-note because I still owe Bozer for that stupid Voice finale."

"I still can't believe you wagered a hundred dollars? How many times have I told you that when it comes to any reality show and Bozer, maybe you should be a little more frightened with your funds? He has an uncanny ability to predict the winner even from blind auditions." Mac shook his head. "We both know how you make your predictions."

"I'll have you know I used statistics," Jack declared with a look of indignation. "A bona fide formula."

"Body measurements are not reliable data and hair and eye color don't translate well to quantifiable figures, no matter what you think, Jack." Mac rolled his eyes at his partner's one track mind, but couldn't quite suppress his smile.

Jack ignored the ribbing, carefully making his way to standing as the plane slowed. "Looks aside, I think Lauren Duski was the better voice."

"And is your authority on the subject based on your standing as a three time Karaoke champion?" Mac grabbed his go-bag and took Jack's before Jack could reach for it. The easy banter was far preferable to the silent broodiness Mac had dealt with until Jack had finally drifted off with the help of the drugs. Jack might have claimed he'd forgotten what the day was, but Mac had a good inclination he had merely kept his disappointment to himself because Mac was in a similar boat when it came to being fatherless. "Because having heard you perform more times than I ever wanted, I'm not sure you're qualified to predict the winners of good old Cedar Creek, Texas's county fair talent show."

"Still somehow my pick was runner up." Jack bumped Mac with his uninjured shoulder as he started for the front of the plane, smiling smugly. "Should we mention when yours and Riley's favorites were dropped?"

"Yet, I'm still going to be the one loaning you the hundred dollars to pay your dues to Bozer." Mac was not about to mention that while he had not brought up the idea of pie at any time, Beth might have promised to have all his favorites on the Dalton Sunday dinner menu when she'd replied. Kicked puppy not, Beth had taken to Mac on that first visit when they were just home from Afghanistan and liked to indulge him whenever given the opportunity. He wasn't sure if it was a motherly thing, or the fact she merely recognized a broken thing when she saw it and had some innate need, like Jack, to fix it, to save what was salvageable. Either way, Mac wasn't above working the situation to needle his partner. "I'll be sure to let you work it off though as the deck at home could really use some sanding and touch up. Of course I'll wait until your shoulder's healed."

Jack shot Mac an amused glance. "That's mighty kind of you, brother, considering I hurt it pulling your scrawny ass from the jaws of death."

"About that…" Mac waited for the door of the plane to open, the steps to lower. "I may have told Beth we stopped a mugging on our business trip."

"You lied to my sweet, God-fearing grandmother?" Jack frowned at Mac before heading out the door. "Do you have no shame?"

"How exactly were you going to explain the splint and the bruises? My wrist?" Mac hefted their bags onto his shoulder as he followed his partner onto the tarmac. The humidity was thick, the mid-afternoon sky above them like wet cement with patches of intermittent sun. "Tripped over a sidewalk and fell into someone's fist?"

"You're right. Better you lie to the woman than me have to do it." Jack took his own bag from Mac, hefting it on his good side when Mac caught up to him. "That way I come off a hero and don't even have to feel guilty while I'm eating all that buttery, bubbly peach goodness."

"The only thing you're going to be eating is crow." Mac sighed at his partner's stubbornness, determined to take the lead. Jack would no doubt try to drive, ignoring his injuries and the fact he had taken a few painkillers and a handful of Ibuprofen, but Mac figured if he was the one to rent the car, he might actually get a chance at getting the keys first. "I'll be feasting on cherry pie."

RcJ

The first time Mac had come to The Narrow Path Ranch, he and Jack had only been back from Afghanistan for a few weeks. Admittedly the name Narrow Path had been lost on Mac at the time, as the sprawling 140 acre spread of rolling hills and stately old post oaks seemed more endless sky and open fields. He chalked it up to Jack's grandparents having a grasp of juxtaposition.

That trip, he and Jack had split their time either on ATV's exploring the land which was teeming with deer and turkey or in an old fishing boat on the property's very own lake. By the time Mac left some weeks later and on subsequent returns, especially the exile Jack pushed for after Nikki's supposed death, the symbolic name rang true. As JP Dalton had explained to Mac his first visit, a man's destiny was often shaped not by where he found himself at the end of a journey, but by the road he'd chosen to walk while making his way there.

Although one's personal journey could at times be harsh and ugly, The Narrow Path Ranch was anything but. The land was as appealing to the eye as it was somehow soothing to the spirit. It was as if JP and Beth had managed to carve out their very own mecca, a slice of Heaven, just fifteen minutes outside the central hub of Austin in a little place called Cedar Creek, Texas.

Turning their rental car down the oak shaded drive, framed by fat white wooden fence posts Mac felt a rush of relief, tension give way to something soft, like coming home, even though they were far from Mission City and Los Angeles. Two large horses and a slightly smaller, and very familiar buckskin were grazing in the field to their left. The crunch of gravel beneath their tires had the horses lifting their heads, trotting gracefully towards the fence row to follow along beside the SUV.

"There's your girl, Mac." Jack pointed to the buckskin, a bit of contrast in her own right. Treaty was the color of sun-warmed sand, except for her points, which were pitch black. Even the tips of the mare's ears looked as if they'd been dipped in ebony ink.

Mac knew lots of facts about horses, in part due to the fact Mac knew a great deal about many subjects, but mostly because Jack was pretty much a closet equestrian, meaning those closest to him got a glimpse of his ability to talk endlessly on the subject. Mac had come to believe Jack's knowledge of horses was equaled only by his understanding of airplanes and the history of the Dallas Cowboy's football franchise. Hours spent spotting for Jack in Afghanistan and long, grueling stakeouts had given Mac's partner ample time to spout his vast familiarity on all three subjects, despite knowing that Mac was by far not a horse enthusiast and had never cared much for football nor the finer points of aviation.

Thanks to Jack, Mac knew horses could sleep both standing up and lying down. They had around 205 bones in their bodies, they were herbivores and herd animals, unlike dogs and humans who were predators. The placement of their eyes on the sides of their heads allowed them to see 360 degrees at one time. He had not known, or perhaps 'believed' was the better word, that the animals were capable of bewitching a person. Treaty, not Jack, had taught Mac that lesson.

"She's grown." Mac took his eyes from the winding road to give his horse a quick once over. He hadn't seen her in several months, not since he, Jack, Riley and Bozer had come for Beth's 75th birthday bash. Treaty was an Appendix, meaning in 'horse speak' that she was a cross between a Quarter Horse and a Throroughbred-a breed JP Dalton and The Narrow Path Ranch was known for. Mac might have been biased but he thought Treaty was certainly the most beautiful horse to come from Narrow Path stock, quite possibly the finest specimen of Equus caballus ever.

"It's possible." Jack had unfastened his seat belt turning so he could watch the horses through Mac's open window. He let out a shrill whistle, the horses tossing their heads, prancing a bit, before one, no doubt Jack's Palomino, Raucus, called back in a loud whinny. Jack chuckled, shaking his head at the sight. "Some horses grow until they're around eight. Treaty just turned five."

Mac caught the flash of happiness that crossed his partner's face as he continued to watch the animals. It was akin to seeing Jack's reaction when his beloved Cowboys scored a touchdown or when he'd stop whatever he was doing in Afghanistan to go out and gawk in complete boy-like wonder when it was rumored that The Nightstalkers, the special operations aviation unit, was about to land one of their tricked out Apaches.

Jack shifted his gaze to Mac. "Maybe you should try actually riding her this time, bud, before you need a step stool to mount that beautiful mare."

"My problem's never been mounting mares." Mac knew the innuendo would not be lost on Jack as he sent a sideways grin to his partner. "It's the getting thrown by them, then trampled that I take issue with."

"JP would say getting back in the saddle is the only way to work through that fear, Brother." Jack shot Mac a smirk that spoke to him not only appreciating the lewd reference, but also somehow knowing where the lighthearted banter had taken Mac's thoughts. "Some rides, even if they seem sweet in the beginning, aren't worth the rough landing. The key is to find the right horse for the cowboy."

Mac was glad they had reached the main house, sparing him having to comment on his lingering fear of horses and his trust issues, neither topic was one he'd intended to touch on. Not when this day was supposed to be about Jack.

"I think I can already smell the aroma of cherry pie from here," Mac redirected as he cut the engine and took the keys from the ignition. The barking of dogs heralded their arrival and Jack didn't get a chance for rebuttal as he opened his door and stepped out before either of the two overly excited Labradors could jump up on the rental car to greet their guests.

"Settle down, you two." Jack knelt, using his free hand to rub the silver Lab named Lilly and her chocolate coated brother, Swtizer.

Lilly wagged her way over to Mac, tongue lolling in a happy greeting, as he came around the front of the car. She was not named for the flower as one might assume, but for Bob Lilly, who, to hear Jack tell it, had been an unstoppable line-man for the Dallas Cowboys. Mac didn't know anything about old Bob's tackling skills but Lilly nearly bowled him over in her sheer joy at their presence.

All the ranch animals, except for the horses, were living tributes to the team the Dalton clan embraced and routed for with unmatched fervor. Switzer, was named after a Cowboy's legendary coach. And Dodger, Mac's personal favorite, who had just came snorting around the corner in all his black and white pig glory sporting a bright blue and gray bandana was the namesake of a man only slightly less revered than Beth's beloved Jesus-Roger Stauback.

"What-up, Roger Dodger?" Jack asked, reaching down to scratch the wily pig's back as he rambled between his canine counterparts begging his share of the attention. Much happy rooting and grunting ensued. "Looks like Treaty's not the only one to put on a few pounds since we were here last," Jack observed.

"I see that." Mac laughed at the pig's antics as it bumped its canine siblings out of the way to hog all the attention. "If I was Dodger at this present girth, I think I might start taking Beth's comments about him making a winter's worth of tasty breakfasts as a serious threat and cease and desist all destruction of her flowers."

"Speaking of being on the outs with the fine ladies of Narrow Path, you better at least say hello to your filly before we go in." Jack stood straight, pointed to where the horses had their heads hung over the fence, waiting to be greeted as well.

They walked over together, Mac reaching out a hand that had Treaty raising her head high, letting go of a snort, before moving closer and blowing on him. "Hey, gorgeous," Mac said, placing his hand on her cheek as Treaty nickered softly, moving a bit closer to press into Mac's touch.

"She missed you." Jack jerked his head to Raucus. The big Palomino was eyeing Jack carefully but keeping his distance for the moment. "Unlike us tough guys, girls always wear their hearts on their sleeves."

"Or maybe your horse just doesn't like you very much." Mac smiled to himself, understanding Raucus's hesitancy was actually a credit to Jack's positon of leader in their 'horse-human' herd. Raucus, the other horses as well, approached Jack much like his men had done back in Afghanistan, with a reserve born not out of fear, but respect.

"Get over here, rowdy boy, let me have a look at you." All it took was Jack relaxing his stance for the big Palomino to step forward, pressing his big head into Jack's chest as he allowed Jack to rub him with his good arm. When Jack stepped back, Raucus lowered his head with a contented sigh and started grazing once more. Jack chuckled, giving Mac a pointed look. He'd once joked that it was ironic Mac didn't take right up with horses, seeing as his reserved, sometimes standoffish and skittish nature was a lot like theirs.

Treaty stayed where she was, seeming to enjoy Mac's attention, at least for the moment. She had a calm, serene temperament that suited her name. Mac had been in a state of turmoil and chaos after Afghanistan. Leaving the desert had not ended his internal battle as he and Jack had hoped. In some ways Mac might have been worse off stateside, not fitting back into his old life as he imagined he would. It was not simple to be the person you had once been, the person others expected you to be, when you realized that person no longer existed. So when JP had given Mac the colt he'd helped deliver near the end of their stay that spring, her name had come easily to Mac, almost unbidden.

In that moment, whether it was witnessing a miracle or the incredible force that was Treaty alone, Mac forged a sort of agreement of peace. It was akin to signing a treaty with the enemy that lived within. The war would stop. It had to if Mac wanted to survive. Mac had yet to brake the covenant, although the past year had challenged his resolve.

"You ready to head in?" Jack seemed to pick up on the rather morose direction Mac's thoughts had once more travelled, offering him a quick U-turn. Mac had no doubt his partner had some of the same old nostalgia creeping around the edges. That time was at the best bittersweet for the both of them. When Mac met his gaze, Jack offered a wide grin. "I don't know about you, brother, but I'm starved."

Beth was waiting for them on the wrap around porch when they reached the rambling two story yellow house with white shutters. She was wearing one of her trademark long flowing skirts with the well-worn Frye boots. She took one look at Jack, giving him a shake of her head, even as she latched onto Mac.

"Look at this." Beth framed Mac's face with weathered hands. "Angus, I swear you get more handsome every time I see you." She hugged him then, long and hard, holding nothing back, as Lilly and Switzer danced at their feet trying desperately to insert their wagging bodies between them, not content to be left out of the huddle. Mac felt warmth rush to his face even as his body betrayed him by practically melting into the enthusiastic embrace. She released Mac, shooting Jack an accusatory glance. "Which by the way isn't nearly enough considering I am a very old woman and not long for this world."

"How about you stop gushing over Mac and giving me that evil eye. Show your boy some love, why don't you?" Jack flashed his grandmother a smile, holding open his arm for his own hug. "And what's with all this talk of you being old? We all know you're going to see a centennial, probably beyond."

"Harsh reality is that seventy-five is not the new fifty, Wyatt, no matter what Dr. Oz wants us to think." Beth obliged her grandson stepping into him with a long side-squeeze that avoided the sling. She held on just as long as she had to Mac, also cupping Jack's face when Jack let her go. Her eyes narrowed as she studied the bruises. "It is also truth that all parents, no matter how adored, must accept that one's children will always surpass them in favor with the older generation."

"That kid's not even mine." Jack gestured dismissively to Mac. "I swear."

"Spoken just like a man." Beth winked conspiratorially at Mac, reaching up now to kiss Jack loudly on both mottled cheeks. The look of complete adoration she levelled on Jack had Mac feeling a pang of sadness, a faint memory of his mother stirring like leaves brushed by a gentle breeze. "At this stage in the game, I figure Angus and my beautiful Riley are the closest things you're ever going to give me to great grandchildren so don't go denying this old woman her doting."

"If you haven't noticed I've already taken my share of potshots and blows to my pride today." Jack gestured to his bruised face, obvious to Mac that he was playing the sympathy card. He sent a frown at Mac, who was admittedly enjoying the unfolding of the scene that often got played out at least once during every visit. Mac couldn't deny that a part of him was all too thrilled to be counted among family, especially in the capacity in which Beth viewed him. "But what man in his right mind could deny you anything?" He gestured to Mac. "Dote away."

Beth gave a loud laugh, reaching up to affectionately pat Jack's uninjured shoulder. "There's the boy I know." She cut her eyes to Mac with a knowing look. "As completely full of it as his granddaddy and just as bad about finding himself on the wrong end of a fist as well."

"My charm and tendency for roguish behavior is why I'm your favorite and you know it." Jack flashed the older woman his own look of adoration. "And don't blame JP for my bad behavior because we all know where I get my propensity for trouble. Don't forget I have heard all the stories of your youthful adventures."

"The only thing I am sure you inherited from me are those molasses colored eyes and that irresistible smile, and unfortunately, for me at least, your sturdy build." Beth turned, tucking some silver strands that had escaped her long braid behind her ear. She slid her arm through Mac's as she nodded for Jack to open the screen door. "And it's true you have always been my favorite, Wyatt, but then this angel came along. Please put a pin in my earlier note."

"Put a pin…" Jack stuttered, exasperated. "Nana, I swear you act like the kid sprung forth from my loins instead of me bringing him home from war." Despite being flustered, or at least acting as if he was, Jack opened the door and held it as Beth and Mac crossed the threshold followed by the two dogs who tumbled into the breeze way, scrambling over each other like pups, and one disgruntled pig who wasn't about to be left outside where one might think such barn animals belonged.

"Listen to him, Angus. He acts as if men haven't brought babies home from the war for ages," Beth prattled on, patting Mac's hand as they strolled along the hall as if it were a promenade. Mac knew she was enjoying every moment of torturing her grandson, but the smile she gave Mac when he looked down at her had Mac hoping she might have liked to believe her teasing. "Why my own paternal uncle took a mistress in Italy during World War I. Now I don't cotton to adultery, but war does strange things to a man, as both you boys know. He brought that child home to the hills of Tennessee for his kind-hearted wife to raise when the baby's mother took ill and died." Her twinkling eyes moved from Mac to Jack and back again. "JP and I even met some of my people, distant relations as they were, when we vacationed in Pasitano for our fiftieth wedding anniversary. They were a lovely sort, gave me an old family recipe for pesto that is simply devine which I need to share with Bozer, as that boy has a way around the kitchen."

"Nana," Jack said, traipsing behind them. "Now that story sounds a lot more like one of those romance novels you like to read than it does any family history I have ever heard."

"We don't tell you children everything, dear," Beth replied as they made their way into the spacious family room. Everything spoke of comfort and family, a lot of leather and natural wood. The walls were covered with Western art. Beth's pottery and sculptures were interspersed with pieces of crystal, statues of saints, and a wealth of books were tucked into the built in shelves that lined either side of the massive stone fireplace."Our generation tends to keep our skeletons locked neatly in our closets instead of letting them loose and rattling them about on The Facebook."

"It's just Facebook, Nana, same as Wal-mart is just Wal-mart, not The Wal-mart." Jack gave a roll of his eyes, as Mac worked hard to keep a neutral face.

"Don't be fresh, Jack Wyatt Dalton. My point is, prepositions aside, that Facebook is not a person's on-line diary. Just as the Wal-mart is not a place for people with no grasp of modesty to display disastrous wardrobe foibles that reveal all the nooks and crannies God intended them to keep covered sans their marital bed."

"Please don't say marital bed." Jack groaned, rubbing his head as Beth released Mac with another wicked grin and a soft pat of his hand.

She smoothed a hand over the folds of her skirt. "I will try to refrain from such fresh talk myself as long as you try and not show up at my house looking like someone used your handsome face for a punching bag. You gave my old heart a terrible fright." Mac noticed genuine worry had crept its way into her tone.

"I'm sorry Nana but I thought your dear, sweet, angel-faced Angus explained that I interrupted a mugging." Jack sent his grandmother a contrite look, followed by a devilish grin Mac knew was intended to take the older woman's mind from all seriousness. "Forgive me for plaguing your genteel nature with my attempt at heroism. You did raise me to be chivalrous."

"I have never doubted your heroic nature or your bent toward chivalry, child, but although aging, I am far from senile." Beth propped one hand on her hip, the other pointing a finger at Jack. "I have little confidence that your latest shenanigans included a Dickens-like battle between you, Oliver Twist and the Artful Dodger."

"Who?" Jack looked a bit thrown by the Dickens reference.

"I think she's referring to the three teenagers who ambushed you when we chased them into that alley to retrieve the stolen purse." Mac said, helping his partner out while avoiding the doubtful, disappointed, glance Beth sent his way. "She's not buying it."

"For good reason." Jack turned to his grandmother. "Mac lied, Nana. That whole story the kid fed you, completely made up."

"Jack!" Mac couldn't believe his partner had just thrown him under the bus.

Jack looked nowhere near sorry for his betrayal as he practically beamed in triumph. "What do you think of your dear boy, Angus now?"

"Well, Wyatt, what else am I to think but that it is sadly true what they say about the apple not falling far from the tree," Beth replied, not even bothering to reprimand Mac. She clasped her hands together as if the subject was permanently closed for discussion. "Now you two boys stay right here and ponder your poor judgment in lying to this frail, old woman, while I put together some of my fresh secret-recipe lemonade for you to take out and share with JP. He's been a bit mopey this morning, but has no idea of how his Father's Day is about to turn around."

"That woman is about as about as frail and genteel as that giant that nearly took my head off in Turkey." Jack groused once his grandmother was out of earshot. He glanced at Mac, running a hand over his bruised jawline with a slight wince, still keeping his voice low. "It's a good thing she has the patience of Job and a tendency for grace instead of justice or we'd be in big trouble."

"It's at least lucky for you, as I'm pretty sure you'd be the one taking a trip to the woodshed right about now because I'm obviously her favorite." Mac smirked at his partner figuring he'd cut him some slack on the tattling considering he had so recently saved his life, and Mac was more certain than ever that they'd indeed be having cherry pie for desert which only fostered his good mood.

"You know that whole thing about sparing the rod and spoiling the child is really starting to make sense to me now," Jack grumbled.

"How man thrashings with the rod did you get by the way?" Mac asked, making his way to the mantle over the fireplace which held a collection of framed photographs. He'd studied them before, listened as Beth regaled him with her family history. Mac picked up the one taken of him and Jack right after Afghanistan.

Jack was sitting on the top rail of the fence, Mac leaned up against the post near him, looking, admittedly even younger and skinnier than he had when he'd left for MIT. There was an orange, red dusk sky in the background, horses dotted the pasture. Even Lilly and Switzer were in the shot, only their heads showing in the frame as they were mere puppies then. Beth had caught Mac and Jack mid conversation, Mac's mouth open in laughter at something Jack had said. Mac hadn't looked quite so lost and broken by then as they were about to head back to California. In some ways that time seemed a different lifetime, as long ago as the era held in the faded black and white images of the Dalton ancestors.

"There was no rod, but let me tell you there were plenty of switches-which I was forced to go and fetch myself. Just for future reference, the skinny, bendy ones are not kinder to a backside by any means." Jack had picked up another frame. He tilted it so Mac could see, his mouth twitching in amusement. The shot was from Beth's birthday party. Bozer and Riley grinning like kids in their party hats, with JP standing behind them, arms crossed but a huge matching smile splitting his face. Lilly had put her paws on the table in between Riley and Bozer, shoestrings of drool dangling precariously on either side of her mouth, all of them transfixed watching Beth and her three tiered carrot cake as Jack leaned over her shoulder to help her blow out the wealth of candles.

"I took that." He had volunteered to play photographer, undeniably hoping that hiding behind the camera he'd given the birthday girl would keep him from having to mingle and make conversation with all the guests he'd not known. Mac wasn't a fan of having his picture taken, though he had to admit, as he replaced the photo of him and Jack, that there was something to having a memory frozen in time, the ability to capture a perfect moment to revisit it in a more tangible way than merely calling up a foggy mental image.

He made a mental note to ask Beth for a copy of the photo, the thought bringing to mind his father and whether he had possibly also been camera shy. It would explain why Mac had few pictures of the man, only one of him and his dad together.

Jack clearing his throat had Mac forcibly pressing the thoughts of his dad away and returning to the present where his partner was staring at the picture he was holding with his own bit of reminiscence. "Riley looks all of ten."

"Beth sent Bozer that one as well as the shot of him and Riley with Dodger covered in cake after the 'misfortunate' incident. I saw they'd been added to the wall of fame in his room."

"Figures." Jack shook his head. "I think he and Nana are friends on The Facebook."

Mac laughed, ignoring the twinge it caused his ribs. "We better warn Bozer not to be recanting all his romantic woes on-line."

"I'm just glad he's branched outside our social network for his latest love match." Jack ran a finger over his eyebrow. "It was bad enough when I had to listen to your and Nikki's conversations over coms. I'm not sure I could deal with hearing Riley and Bozer's thinly veiled foreplay while on missions. I might have had to kill him."

"Foreplay?" Mac rolled his eyes at his partner's tendency for exaggeration. "Nikki and I were completely professional on jobs. Subtle flirting possibly, but your imagination is zealous and as usual R-rated."

"I'm not imaginative, I'm perceptive." Jack returned the photograph to its spot, turning his knowing gaze to Mac. Mac knew the look intimately and suddenly felt the proverbial fly in the spider's web. "Especially when it comes to you, bud. That's how I know this day is about as easy for you as it is for me, maybe harder considering my old man didn't have much say in how or where he would pass the holiday, and your grandfather isn't here to pick up the slack. Talk to me."

Mac quickly averted his gaze, going back to studying one of the Patron Saints standing sentry amongst the picture frames. "It's just another day, Jack. Like I explained about my birthday…"

"Please don't bring Mars into this conversation or any other celestial bodies for that matter." When Mac returned his glance long enough to give a smirk, Jack arched a brow. "And don't try to redirect either by going on a tirade about the ridiculousness of choosing one random day on the calendar to celebrate fathers as a conspiracy by the greeting card companies and sporting goods department at the Walmarts of the world. You forget, I know you better than anyone."

The clatter of paws and small hooves on hard wood floor as Beth reappeared once more saved Mac a reply. "Here we are, my dears." She offered Jack a clear gallon jar filled with lemonade, rings of lemons and limes bobbing at the top, which he awkwardly managed one-handed. She turned to give Mac a stack of plastic cups and a paper bag. "Supper is still a ways off, but these should hold you over until then." She looked at Mac. "Don't let JP try to talk you out of your share, dear one, because my Snickerdoodles are his favorite and the man is bullish when it comes to getting his own way."

"Yes, mam." Mac nodded, giving Beth a sweet smile that had her kissing his cheek and Jack once more rolling his eyes behind his grandmother's back.

RcJ

Mac understood firsthand how stubborn JP Dalton could be because although Jack might have inherited his grandmother's eyes and smile, maybe even her streak for stepping into sticky situations, he had definitely gotten his mule-headedness from his grandfather. Jack was relentless in his own way. Especially when it came to getting Mac to open up. Which was why Mac was more than grateful they had run into a couple of the senior ranch hands on their trek to the barn, which he made sure to engage in conversation as they walked along to keep his partner from badgering him about how he was dealing with any backlash from all the talk of Father's Day. The truth, whether Jack would ever agree or not, was that Mac had lived thirteen years without a father. A random day on the calendar wasn't going to make any difference in the grand scheme of things.

As they approached the stables and the hands went their separate ways, the warm smell of horses carried to Mac. Passing the large paddock and training ring, the scents of oiled leather, grain and hay mingled in. The ranch house might have been rustic and old fashioned, but the main horse barn was state of the art and modern.

On his first trip, Mac had been more than intrigued with the large-diameter, low-speed overhead fans, a misting system, and the welded wire stall fronts all used to increase air flow and maintain a consistent comfortable temperature for the animals housed within. Even though the Texas summer was hot, heavy and lacking as much as a slight breeze outside, Mac knew stepping into the barn would bring instant relief. Jack had said JP would have been happy living in a lean-to but he'd be damned if his horses weren't housed in a freaking mansion with ever amenity.

"Get the door, brother." Jack ducked his chin, needlessly reminding Mac that one hand was full and the other useless.

The Dutch doors were already open at the top so Mac only needed to pull the bottom tier open, allowing them entry into the impressive 30 stall structure that was an aesthetically pleasing mixture of black iron and wood that maintained the classic western feel despite the extensive technology. Lilly and Switzer who'd tagged along with them rushed in first, some of the horses blowing and hanging their heads over to catch a sniff as the dogs rambled down the line, turning at the end of the row, where Mac knew a large tack and feeding room lay just beyond, a washing hub as well.

"Looks like its dinner time," Jack flashed Mac a knowing smirk. Mac ignored him, knowing his partner was itching to bring up Mac's first experience feeding the horses almost six years before. Although he had been completely happy to work with the ventilation system to increase its efficiency instead of dealing directly with the residents of the barn, JP had insisted that being up close and personal with the animals would be therapeutic, soul-healing, to quote his exact phrasing. He had also insisted Mac needed cowboy boots, a chambray shirt and a proper hat, like any other hand he hired on. Thanks to the whole relentless gene the Dalton's shared, Mac had soon not only looked like an extra from Jack's third favorite movie of all time Tombstone, he'd become an expert on grain mixture and how to spot a biter.

They found JP doing Mac's old job. He was bent over a bin scooping feed which he'd use to fill one of the thirty buckets lined around him.

"Don't you pay younger men with better backs good money to do that, Sir?" Jack set the lemonade down on one of the bench seats that lined the wall, standing tall as his grandfather turned at the sound of his voice.

JP Dalton was tall and lanky, with a thick silver horseshoe moustache and a head full of salt and pepper hair that even at his age he wore just long enough that it curled over the collar of his sweat-stained button down shirt. Mac had always thought the man had a striking resemblance to Sam Elliot. Even JP's voice was deep and resonant with a Western twang.

"Well, I be damned." He bumped the brim of his brown Stetson back, studying the two men before him with a mixture of confusion and unveiled pleasure. "Would you look at what the dogs done drug in now."

"Hey, old man." Jack stepped forward only to have JP meet him half way, engulfing him in a back pounding hug that did not take heed of Jack's hurt arm as Beth had been careful to do. Jack must have found the pain worth it because he didn't draw back until JP finally let him go. "Happy Father's Day." Mac caught his partner's softer words as he dropped his bag and cups next to the lemonade. Seeing the two men together convinced Mac he'd made the right choice after all in taking the detour to Austin.

"Thank you, Junior." JP looked at his grandson like he couldn't quite believe his luck, his green eyes growing brighter under his bushy eyebrows. Mac had learned early on that despite Dalton men being resolute tough guys, they had no problem showing their feelings. It was so different from his own experience, the men in his family having been more reserved and neutral with the display of their affections no matter how deep they ran. Not true for the Daltons. Their feelings for a person tended to run hot or cold and was often just as demonstrative. Hugging and fist fighting were full on, no holds bar and never done half-heartedly. JP gave proof of that as he grinned at Mac and said in his thick drawl. "Get over here, kid."

Mac knew better than to hesitate. He strode forward to find himself wrapped in a huge bear hug that had his ribs protesting and his own emotions atypically rushing to the surface. "Damned if you two pups aren't a sight for these sore eyes." When he let Mac go, JP quickly rubbed a hand over his face, leaving a dirt streak where a tear had mixed with dust on his cheek. "It's a mighty fine surprise. One I won't soon forget, but I gotta say, I've seen you two looking better."

"It's all good, Grandpa." Jack gestured to his arm, Mac's wrapped wrist. "Nothing serious. Just work stuff."

"Work stuff." JP snorted. "It seems to me that this think tank where you two claim to sit behind desks all day and come up with brilliant ideas to save the world is a tad bit more physical than you'd have us common folk believe. For a brainy lot, who purportedly gave up on the soldier's life, you boys tend to get beat to hell more often than not."

"You know how it is." Jack scuffed his boot on the stone floor, his eyes going to study the impeccable rows of miscellaneous gleaming tack behind his grandfather. Mac knew JP Dalton was the one person, except for maybe himself, that Jack found it hard, even painful, to lie to.

"I know how it is." JP reached up and wrapped his fingers around Jack's neck, giving his grandson a little shake. "My boy still likes playing the hero. Just like his daddy." JP looked to Mac. "Or maybe Mac, here, just got tired of your smart mouth and decided to teach you a lesson."

"Nah," Mac shook his head. "You know he'd look worse if I had a go at him."

"Spoken like a true Dalton." JP laughed. "Are you sure Junior didn't just pretend to dig you up over in that godawful sandbox, Son?"

"Beth thinks he might have shared a marital bed with my mom," Mac grinned at his partner as he joined in on the fun. "But I can assure you she had a refined taste and wouldn't have liked him one bit." Even as he said the words, Mac felt his heart squeeze. He only wished his mother's judgment in men ran the likes of Jack Dalton.

"Ha!" JP laughed. "Beth will never forgive Jack Jr for denying her another run of little chicks tugging at her skirt tales.

"I don't understand how I'm to blame for that when I have a sister that actually has a whole gaggle of goslings squawking around last time I checked. Why doesn't Nana go gather up those little ones, instead of picking on me?"

"Well, we both know how your sister is." JP scratched his slight beard, giving Jack a deep frown. "More your momma's daughter than she ever was your daddy's. It's a tender situation as you well know."

"Beth sent lemonade." Mac noted the instant shift in Jack's demeanor. He was unwilling to let his partner's complicated relationship with his mom cast a shadow on the day. "Mac pointed to the glass jug and the paper bag and cups he'd put down. "Cookies, too. Although we should probably go easy on those since she's making cherry pie for dinner tonight."

"Cherry pie?" JP's eyes widened in anticipation and he rubbed his big calloused hands together with a hoot. "I wondered why that woman was working up a storm in the kitchen bright and early this morning before church." He looked from one man to the other. "I figured there was some potluck with the Sunday school class, but when she didn't have me carting food out to the truck like we were running a catering company, I couldn't wrap my mind around what good deed I'd done to deserve such a feast, but now I know she was cooking up a visit with you two, which I have to say is even better than her fried chicken."

"Fried chicken is probably a given seeing as how it's the Lord's Day and all, but I wouldn't get your hopes up none about the pie." Jack's mood seemed to have rebounded quickly, and Mac was amused at how quickly his partner's vernacular and inflection reverted whenever he was home, much like it did when he was exhausted. "My bet is we'll be having peach cobbler, to your and Mac's disappointment I'm afraid. In fact, Mac is going to be missing not only his favorite dessert but the hundred dollars we wagered on it."

"Well, now, he sure is full of himself ain't he, Mac?" JP jerked his thumb at Jack. "Down right cock-sure if you ask me."

"That doesn't even begin to cover it." Mac nodded to JP.

"You do know what they say about the apple not falling far from the tree." Jack pointed to his grandfather, echoing his grandmother's earlier words. "There's no denying I get it honest."

"That you do." JP set his hat right on his head, his gaze finding Jack's face once more. The pride was undeniable, eliciting another tiny ache from Mac as he tried to recall his father's face. It was hard to remember exact physical details, let alone any expressions he might have frequently had. "You able to ride with that busted arm, Junior?"

"Did I once break a bronc with one hand tied behind my back?" Jack grinned triumphantly.

"You did, although I like to never got Beth to forgive me for letting you try such a fool-hearty stunt." JP flashed a sly grin Mac's way, scratching at his slight beard. "Like to never got myself back on the good side of the marital bed that time either."

"Damn, JP." Jack lost his own self-confident smile, his face twisting into a grimace. "No grown man wants to hear the words marital bed come out of his grandparent's mouths. Especially not twice in one day."

"We're old, son, not dead." JP slapped Jack on his good shoulder with an amused chuckle. "How about we have some of that lemonade and I'll go and saddle us up three horses for a ride before dinner or do we need to stand around here like a bunch of sissies and soothe your sensitive nature?"

"I say we ride," Jack answered quickly, glancing to Mac. "You in, brother? Treaty's been well broke for a few years now."

"Junior's right." JP held Mac's gaze. "She'd probably like to stretch her legs and a hard ride will shake that jet lag right off of you."

"I think I'll pass this time." Mac gestured to the feed buckets, the idea of climbing astride Treaty, no matter how smooth her gate, had him bringing a protective arm over his still aching ribs. When Jack shot him a worried frown, Mac was quick to add, "Besides someone needs to finish up in here if you two slackers are going to blow off all the work. I'd like to eat before it gets dark."

"The boy does have a point." JP glanced to Jack, a gleam in his green gaze. "The animals have to be fed before we get our supper. Ranch rules."

"He is the youngest and he's been out of practice," Jack agreed, although Mac noted that the concern hadn't completely left his eyes. "He might even need a refresher on his grooming skills."

"I think my skills would be better suited checking in with Beth once I'm finished with the feed."

"The woman did look like she was planning on serving up enough for all twelve disciples." JP reached out and squeezed Mac's shoulder. "But I'm giving you fair warning, son, if there's a spare moment she'll find a way to drag you up to her studio and show you her new paintings."

"I wouldn't mind." Mac frowned. "I like Beth's work."

"Not this latest stuff, you won't." JP looked from Jack to Mac, as if he were about to reveal a devastating secret. "Damndest thing I've seen how they're selling like hot cakes. One of the bars downtown took three off her hands just last week. I had some of the boys deliver them, and let's just say it wasn't the kind of place you could buy a pretty lady a round. Beth calls it her existential-something or another phase. I call it a bunch of naked cowboys, some of which are hung better than the stallions they're sitting astride." He gave an exaggerated shudder. "My dear departed momma is probably rolling in her grave at the Dalton name gracing such bawdy pictures, which I believe makes Beth all the more prolific in her turnout. Christian or not, that woman can hold a grudge."

"Then maybe I could take a look at the air output in here and make sure you're still getting maximum efficiency from that new addition we made last time." Mac gestured hopefully to the ceiling. Beth was a talented artist, selling not only her oil colors of western landscapes and horses, but her sculptures and pottery at several of the shops in Austin as well as San Antonio. Usually Mac would have enjoyed taking a stroll through her studio, but as much as he liked to tease Jack, he didn't relish the idea of studying nudes with the woman he'd come to look at as his own grandmother.

"I knew you was a smart boy." JP roughly patted his cheek. "Stick to tinkering in the barn until the dinner bell rings. It's saved me a wealth of heartache over the years and in this case, kept me from wanting to gouge my eyes out with a hot fire poker."

RcJ

In the end, both Mac and Jack had done a dutiful tour of Beth's latest masterpieces. As Jack had said before, not many men could resist her charms, especially seeing as how she'd just fed them one of the best meals Mac could remember having. Although Mac hadn't felt compelled to blind himself, he and Jack were slightly traumatized by the accurate although obviously exaggerated depiction of the male anatomy gracing the many canvases in Beth's latest series. Mac had tried to only concentrate on the horses and the surrounding scenery.

When she asked Jack if he thought Riley might like one for her apartment, instead of answering, Jack had demanded to know why she hadn't bothered to even try and hide any of those nooks and crannies she claimed God didn't want a person showing outside the 'marital bed', not even with one strategic, well-placed hat or duster. Beth had quickly schooled her grandson on how in the right hands the human form could be art on canvas, glorifying the Maker's genius, while at the Walmart baring it only demonstrated poor upbringing and a severe lack of morals. She'd be wrapping up one for them to take home for Riley whether he agreed or not.

"I can't get those damn pictures out of my head." Jack groaned from his place beside Mac. They'd made their way out to the back porch, claiming two of the wooden rockers to let their food digest while watching the sun sink from the crimson-streaked sky back-dropped with a summer soundtrack of bullfrogs and cicadas. "Where do you think she got her inspiration?"

"Maybe she hired models? Some of the younger ranch hands?" Mac had his head tilted back, his face covered with his Stetson he'd grabbed from the mud room on the way out. He'd used the hat to conceal the box Beth had pushed on him as she held the screen door for the two of them, shooing them out of her kitchen after adamantly refusing any help with the dishes.

"Damn, Mac. Is it not bad enough Riley's going to have one of those pornographic paintings hanging in her house, why don't you make it worse?" Jack shifted in his chair, disturbing Switzer, who'd draped his head across Jack's boots, while his sister Lilly had curled near Mac's rocker on one of the braided rugs that dotted the planked porch. "All I need is to think about some bare-assed cowboy, sporting only his chaps and spurs parading around my sweet grandmother's studio. Keep it up and my whole dinner's going to make another appearance."

"The paintings are far from pornographic, Jack. As Beth would say, put a pin in my earlier note about your tendency for exaggeration." Mac pushed his cowboy hat from his face, setting it on his head as he straightened in his seat and grinned at Jack. "Besides, being sick might serve you right for eating nearly the whole pan of peach cobbler all by yourself."

"I didn't see you resisting that third piece of cherry pie." Jack shot back. "So much for having any leftovers to take back with us on the flight home."

"There's always the pineapple upside down cake." Mac waggled his brows, knowing the orders they'd received concerning its delivery. Not only had Beth made both Jack's and Mac's favorite desserts she'd gone so far as to make Bozer's and Riley's as well.

"That might have worked if Nana hadn't used The Facebook Live to let them both know she was sending it along with her latest masterpiece." Jack shook his head, faking a bit of ruefulness. "Damned if I should have let Riley teach her all that techy stuff. Do you know she has Instagram and Twitter? I think she might even blog!"

"You're the one who bought her the computer for her birthday." Mac shrugged, hoping the growing darkness on the porch might hide his grin. "Maybe surfing the web even inspired her existential phase."

"Next time I'll not take any input from any of you on my gift." Jack glowered at Mac, his frown unmistakable even in the waning light. "I was going to go with a perfectly fine Turquoise belt buckle and the latest Tony Romo Bobble-head just like I did the year before."

Mac's grin faltered. The segue that Jack had just inadvertently presented offered Mac the opportunity to bring up a subject he'd been putting off since they had arrived. With their time growing short, he knew it was now or never, as Beth had pretty much said as she'd practically forced Mac to take the package she'd been keeping for him. "Speaking of presents…"

"Yeah?" Jack turned to Mac when the younger man faltered. The half-serious scowl from before morphing to genuine full-on worry when Mac continued to remain silent his mouth slightly agape with what Mac was certain was a look of complete fear on his face. "You okay, kid?"

"I got you something." Mac rushed on, pulling out the box he'd put behind his back when they'd first come out on the porch, hoping a moment might present itself. The moment had, but Mac still had a hard time utilizing it. "For you know, Father's Day."

Jack's brow wrinkled as he studied the small square package Mac was holding. "I mean it's not specifically for Father's Day." Mac felt almost as awkward as he had the time he'd found himself in a pair of Wranglers and Ropers goaded into trying line dancing by Jack and some of the other ranch hands. "Because you're not technically a dad, at least not to me. I know Riley got you a card and the Cowboy's socks, and that made sense seeing as how you were practically her step father but this…" Mac rambled on, feeling suddenly apprehensive and as completely foolish as he had that night at the saloon tripping around the dance floor. "This could be a gift for any day, I just… I had Beth get it for me a while back and this seemed like perfect timing since we were here, not that I think you would want a Father's Day present from me or anything..."

"Mac." Jack held up a hand, his frown softening to a smile. "Breathe, brother. Just breathe."

"Sorry." Mac did as his partner said and took a deep breath, knowing he was making a big deal out of nothing. It wasn't like there was anything he couldn't say to Jack. Mac had told his partner things he'd never confided to anyone, not even Bozer. There was something about trusting your life to a person every single day, in the most dangerous of situations that made you also willing to share your darkest secrets with them as well. The great thing with Jack was Mac also didn't really have to say anything at all. Especially the really hard stuff. Jack just seemed to know. So Mac shut up and thrust the box towards his partner. "Here."

"This is either the world's smallest Snuggie or you've up'd your game on the gift giving, bud."

"Just open it." Mac shifted in the chair, waking Lilly, who sat after a long bowing stretch. She laid her head on Mac's knee, giving Mac something to do with his hands as he ran his fingers over her soft velvet-like ears. Together they watched Jack tear open the plain brown-paper wrappings.

"It's not St. Jude like the original," Mac explained as his partner lifted the top of the box to reveal the silver pendant and chain. Jack had lost his trusted good luck medal on a job while off the coast of Bali nearly a month before. There had been a struggle on a boat, Jack and the bad guy he was fighting went tumbling over into the crashing surf of Ulawatu, which was anything but ideal for a midnight plunge in the best of situations. Mac, who had finally secured his own opponent, had been just short of jumping in after them when his partner had resurfaced alone. Jack had fought off the mercenary who'd tried unsuccessfully to drown him but in the struggle his chain had been torn away.

Mac understood losing the medal had shaken Jack more than the near death experience. Not true for Mac, who although empathized with its sentimental value, had been forced to helplessly watch as Jack choked up what seemed to Mac half a gallon of salt water, before going completely, and deathly still in Mac's arms. Mac hadn't realized a man could be as afraid as he was in that moment and continue to breathe. But he did manage breath. For himself and for Jack, right up until the rescue helicopter beat waves against their stalled boat.

When Jack had finally come to during exfil, exhausted and confused, he'd asked about it, the medal, right after he'd made sure Mac was in one piece and close by. It was then that Mac had seriously considered renting scuba gear, taking out another boat, and diving for the thing like some sort of lost treasure. Bozer had been the one to talk him down, convincing him to do the more logical and sane thing, the thing Jack wouldn't kill him for later when he was on the mend and out of the hospital-like track down an identical pendant.

"I wanted to replace the one you lost, but when I called Beth to see about where she'd gotten it and if we could get another one, she suggested that maybe I should change it up, get you something that spoke more to who you are today, what place you're in now."

"If she could see some of our missions she might think I still need the Patron Saint of Lost Causes." Jack ran a finger over the necklace, shooting Mac a half grin. "Especially these last few when one of us have nearly bought the freaking farm."

"We can change it if you want," Mac offered quickly. "I only picked St. Paul because Beth said he's the Patron Saint of Missionaries. I know he was all about saving souls, but I don't know anyone more dedicated and determined to complete a mission than you." Mac didn't think he needed to add that Jack's primary mission was always about saving Mac first and foremost. "It kind of cinched the deal when Beth told me Paul also tended to find himself on the wrong side of a fist, as well as being tortured and shipwrecked, snake bit…finding himself in pretty much any bad circumstance a guy could imagine."

"That does sound like you." Jack grinned when Mac rolled his eyes at the blatant insinuation.

"There's also the part about his trip to Damascus." Mac continued on, hoping he wouldn't need to recant the meaning that particular road held for both of them. After Nikki's death, maybe even more so than returning from Afghanistan, Mac had come to realize he and his partner both had experienced encounters on their intended paths which left them drastically different men. "You once told me Paul was pretty much the epitome of how a man can be traveling a certain path, thinking he was headed just where he was supposed to go, when an unexpected detour could change absolutely everything."

"I did. Damascus is one hell of a good reminder for both of us." Jack lifted the chain out of the tissue before putting the box on the small table between them. "You did good, bud. St. Paul is the perfect choice." He slipped the pendant over his head letting it reside against his chest before lifting his gaze to Mac's once more. "I love it, I really do, but you didn't have to get me anything. This side trip to see JP was more than enough. Hell, it's one of the best things anyone has ever done for me."

"I wanted to do it. We may not be related by blood, but we're family just the same." Mac licked his lips, once more unsure of his words, how they might sound. Jack might think he was completely pathetic or delusional, but Mac was determined to press on since he'd gotten so far. "You're my brother in every way that matters. I know you think I somehow missed out on what you and your dad had, that I'm still suffering because of my father's bad choices, and you try to make up for that, but really I haven't missed out on all that much. Not the important stuff, anyway. Thanks to you, that is."

Mac fiddled with the metal clasp holding the wrist wrap in place so he wouldn't have to meet Jack's gaze, which he could practically feel focused squarely on him. "What I'm trying to say is that I know I'm not your son, but if I'd had the choice, I would have picked you over my dad every time." Mac forced himself to still his hands, lift his head and look at Jack. "Every single time."

Even in the faint light it was easy to see that Jack's eyes had grown visibly brighter. He cleared his throat. "Mac…"

"You don't have to say anything," Mac interrupted quickly, gently pushing Lilly out of the way so he could stand. "In fact, I think we should really try to get Beth to let us help clean up before we hit the road."

"Not so fast, Dude." Jack reached out and caught Mac's uninjured wrist, firmly holding him in place. "You've had your say, and now I'm going to have mine." Jack let him go when Mac stayed sitting in the seat, Lilly once more propping her big furry body against his legs with a contented sigh. He stared at Mac, looking nowhere near as uncomfortable as Mac had earlier. For a man who often declared he wasn't one to discuss his feelings, denied even having such things as feelings on many occasions, Jack seemed to easily cast his heart on the table, more than willing to make himself vulnerable if he believed it in Mac's best interest.

"You were right when you said we were family. We're brothers, there's no doubt about that. And I have a damn good hunch that if I'd been lucky enough to meet your mom, I'd probably have fallen head over heels for her. I'd have jumped at the chance to take on a kid as great as you. I don't say it much, because I wouldn't heap hurt on you for the world. But your father, whatever his excuses were, was a damn fool when he left you behind. I would never…will never make that same mistake with you. That's a promise."

They sat in silence for a long moment, letting the words they'd spoken settle around them, as comfortably as the velvet black that now blanketed the rolling hills of the ranch. Mac was the one to speak first. "You know I was lying when I said she wouldn't have liked you. My mom, that is." His mouth twitched. "I mean what woman in her right mind could resist your charm and roguish ways, not to mention the penchant you have for finding trouble?"

"I know, right." Jack reached out and gripped the back of Mac's neck, giving him a slight shake. "Good thing for you, too, because it's true what they say about that old apple not falling far from the tree. No wonder you have women of all ages eating out of the palms of your hands. You come by it honest, kiddo."

Mac gave a bark of laughter about the same time that the screen door slapped opened and JP ambled out, Dodger right on his heels. "It sounds like you boys have recovered from the food and the fright your Nana gave. If so, I'm up for a game of cards." He lifted his sweating Mason jar of sweet tea, tipping it towards the horizon where a silver moon was just starting its ascent in the never ending sky. "I know it's getting late, but surely there's still time for me to take that money neither of you collected on over your little dessert wager."

"I guess we could call Matty?" Jack shot his partner a hopeful glance. "What's one more day?"

"You mean I could call Matty,"Mac groused, knowing good and well the groveling would once more be left to him.

"I'll split whatever winnings I have left after I put back the hundred I owe Bozer."Jack bumped his fist against Mac's. "Come on, now. You could splurge on a new fancy halter for your girl before we leave."

"I'd hold up on spending those chips before you have them, Junior. Who says you're going to win?" JP hitched a hip onto the railing of the porch, frowning at his grandson. "I plan on taking you both to the cleaners, but if you lose your shirts I will be gracious enough to put a roof over your heads, let you spend the night in your old room and have your share of hotcakes and b-a-c-o-n in the morning." Despite JP's careful spelling of the word, Dodger let out a loud squeal of disapproval.

"Throw in some s-a-u-s-a-g-e and we might have ourselves a deal." With another loud squeal Dodger took off around the house, both dogs giving delighted chase to the insulted pig.

"Fine," JP took a drink of his tea, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he stood. "But don't think I'm going to take it easy on you two just because we're kin."

"Do we look afraid, old man?" Jack reached out and snatched Mac's hat from his head, placing it haphazardly on his own. "Remind him of our family motto, brother."

Mac rolled his eyes at his partner's and JP's antics, but the moment was enough to have him seriously considering the call to their boss, consequences be damned. Maybe he and Jack could even squeeze in some fishing, and maybe, just maybe even an early morning ride, seeing as how Jack wasn't the only one willing to go the extra mile for family.

"Go on now, you know the one." Jack encouraged.

Mac snatched his hat back, deciding the risk of Matty's wrath was easily worth the payoff. He resettled the Stetson just so before shooting JP a cocky grin. "Scared money never wins, Sir."

The end…for now.

A/N/N: If you can't tell by now, I'm a southern girl with a heart for horses and goofy Labradors and smart pigs and fried chicken, the warm smell of hay and lemonade on a smothering summer day and handsome cowboys with their scuffed boots and worn Stetsons and all their slow talk and…well, you get the picture. Forgive my indulgence and liberty with Jack Dalton's past. I am also not from Texas, though my accent gets mistaken for that area which is a bit west of where I hail from, but I promise I did my research and the Narrow Path Ranch is based on an actual horse ranch currently for sale, just outside of Austin, which I have visited on occasion, not the specific ranch, but Austin, TX. If you have a few million dollars lying around, you might want to have your realtor check into it as it is too beautiful for words, the ranch, not Austin, although I like Texas just fine-I just tend to think our horses are a little better, but admittedly they may win in the cowboy department. Thanks so much for reading. Drop me a line to let me know what you thought!