Howard leaned back comfortably in one of the sturdy chairs his father had built so many years ago, studying the grain of the oak table where he had eaten so many meals. He ran one calloused hand along the familiar planks, fingers absently caressing a new gouge.

“Nathan’s handling the homestead well.” Clark said. He was kicked back in his own chair at the other end of the table, fingers laced behind his head.

“Yep.” Howard drawled. “Reckon there’s going to be too many chiefs, here on.”

“Reckon.” Clark agreed. Stifling a belch, he changed the subject, “Bea sets a fine table.”

Howard’s smile was nearly hidden by his mustache. “Better ‘en Ma.” He planted his booted feet on one of the other chairs and shifted his weight, trying to find a more comfortable position. “Can’t believe Nathan still won’t let us help with bedding down the stock for the night.”

“We’re returning heroes.” Clark said, shaking his head.

“Heroes.” Howard snorted. “It’s been near a month, we can only return for so long.”

“Well, let’s give our legs a stretch. I want to go down to the creek.”

Howard slowly stood from his chair and followed his brother to the door. He could tell Clark was mulling something over, but pushing Clark toward a decision when he wasn’t ready did no good.

The last rim of the sun was vanishing to the west and only a single star had penetrated the darkness. They walked through the west pasture, the short cropped grasses swishing against their dusty boots, and down to the bank of a trickling creek.

At long last, Clark broke the silence, finally giving voice to the thoughts that had been plaguing him for so long. “This isn’t our place anymore.”

“It’s home. It’s always been our place.”

“But it isn’t ours anymore.”

Howard lifted one shoulder in a negligent shrug. “It’ll be ours again once we settle.”

“It can’t be ours and Bea’s.” Clark said. He was looking out across the creek toward the west pasture and there was a serious look in his eye. “It’s theirs now. It’s been theirs for years now.”

“The whole time we were away we dreamed of coming back here. Now you want to move on? It’s only been a short time.”

“A month, Howard, or the next thing to.” He roughly shoved his hands in his pockets. “Damn it all, Howard, I feel as useless as tits on a bull. Nathan barely lets us help, he’s got a couple boys from down to town that help with the chores and his boys are almost old enough to take on most of those. He’s been running this place for almost half a decade now. Who’re we to take that away from him? Sides, I reckon we saw a little during the war. I expect there’s more out there worth seeing.”

“Spect you’re right, Clark, but I still don’t like it. Sure the girls are all married with kids of their own now, but shouldn’t we be looking to settle down too? We ain’t so young anymore.”

“Thirty.” Clark said with a smirk. “Thirty ain’t so old.”

“Old enough.” Howard said, shoving his own hands deep in the pockets of his trousers. “You didn’t bring this up because you want to go somewhere, you brought it up because you have someplace in mind you want to go.”

“I do.” Clark hedged. He turned to meet Howard’s eyes. “West.”

“West? You want to go west?”

“Sioux City. I hear there’s a Pinkerton office there and they’re hiring detectives for out west or so I heard when I went down to town last week.”

“Pinkerton’s?” Howard almost choked, yanking his hand from his pocket to scratch at his hair. “You want to be a Pinkerton and track killers and outlaws?”

“Seems like we could make a difference if we did. Don’t you think?”

“I expect so.” He heaved a sigh. “Clark, maybe you’re right and maybe you ain’t. Let’s not make a hasty decision, think of our sisters.”

“I am thinking of them, Howard. I’m thinking of Bea and her family. If we take the homestead back, where does that put them? We’ve got time enough yet to make a new home for ourselves. Time enough to do some good.”

Howard nodded his head, his expression thoughtful as he turned back toward the western sky. “Time enough to do some good,” He echoed at last.