Fairest in the West- Chapter Three:

“Dalton, why’s it so clean?” Andy asked, wrinkling up his nose as he stepped into the house. He was the first one in after his guardian but the other boys quickly pushed passed him to see what he was talking about.

“I didn’t realize our floor was all the same color,” Andy’s twin, Drew, said, a bit in awe. The twins were ten and the wild redheads of the bunch. They’d first come into Dalton’s life when he’d caught them stealing eggs from his henhouse.

“How are we going to find anything?” moped Jed, a nine-year-old brunet with a permanent pout on his face. Though considering he’d lost his entire family not more than a year ago, no one could really blame him. “It’s all so organized.”

“Dalton, what’s going on?” seven-year-old Jacob demanded. He was the only one of the boys actually related to Dalton, though distantly.

Dalton shook his head, just as confused as the rest of them. They’d spent the night in town because of the storm and he’d expected to come home to find the place in a greater state of disrepair than when they’d left, not the other way around. In all his twenty-four years he’d never seen a house that cleaned itself.

“Maybe a fairy did it,” Aaron suggested, eyes wide with awe. At just four he was the youngest of Dalton’s boys, an adorable child with fair hair and pale blue eyes. He’d been with Dalton the longest, having been left on the porch when he was still a baby.

“Oh, yeah, and maybe pigs’ll fly,” Cyril said knocking him playfully upside the head. He was ten but had only been in the country for a few years. Originally his family was from England. He looked enough like Aaron to be his brother and, if not for the accent- which Cyril had and Aaron didn’t- one would think they were related.

“Don’t hit him!” Hawk- the oldest at twelve- reprimanded, giving Cyril a shove. No one exactly knew where Hawk came from. He’d arrived on the doorstep three years before, refusing to say anything about his past or who he was. And since Dalton had been unable to locate anyone looking for a boy matching his description, he let him stay.

Cyril gave the boy a shove back. “I was just kidding around. Don’t go pushing me!”

Hawk went flying backwards, Cyril’s pushing having more force than he intended. He fell crashing against the door to Dalton’s bedroom, landing on the floor, flat on his back. Cyril, all the while sputtering an apology, reached out to offer him a hand up. The boy accepted it but as he rose both his and Cyril’s gazes fell on Dalton’s bed. Or, rather, the sleeping figure in Dalton’s bed.

“What…?” Hawk barely managed to get out, his eyes and mouth wide open.

“I’d say that’s Aaron’s fairy,” Cyril said, his mouth and eyes as wide as Hawk’s.

Hawk swallowed hard, finding his voice. “Dalton, there’s a girl in your bed!”