Chris grunted in exertion, ignoring the rivulets of sweat meandering down his bare torso, as he hefted the final bale of hay onto the neat pile. The senior agent had been hard at it all morning, transferring the fresh hay delivery into the open-sided barn so that it was protected from the elements. It would also be closer to the stables, making it easier when seeing to the horses. Although free time was at a premium, Larabee liked to keep on top of things at the ranch, and despite being on his own with the children this weekend, he’d been determined to tackle the labour-intensive project to get it out of the way.

Buck Wilmington was attending a weeklong Bureau seminar in New York, so Chris had told Vin and JD to stay within earshot while he worked. The children had got their bicycles from the garage, and had started off by wheeling up and down the gently sloping drive that led to the ranch house. Confidant that he could keep a reasonably close eye on the youngsters, Chris had begun the lengthy job in earnest.

As the man got absorbed in his chore, Vin and JD’s sedate – and frankly very boring - game had abruptly changed. The duo began to race each other around the perimeter of the house watched, every time they came into view, by the increasingly distracted Chris Larabee. However, very soon, even that daring pursuit had palled, so the two boys had decided to rummage through the contents of the wooden shack that housed the family’s outdoors and sports equipment.

The senior agent hadn’t paid much attention as the two boys wandered off with plastic buckets, spades and child size fishnets clutched in their hands. They’d used these on the previous year’s vacation in Texas, as the beautiful beaches not far from Corpus Christi were ideal for building sandcastles – and perfect for burying a supine Buck until only his head was visible. Vin and JD had had a whale of a time during their first, ever, family vacation, and had insisted on bringing home all of the beach and rock-pool fishing accoutrements the adults had purchased.

Shoving the last heavy bale into place, Chris puffed out a sigh of satisfaction. Feeling hot and sticky, the blond crossed to the old stone trough, and splashed water onto his sweaty face, neck and chest. Finding the towel he’d left with his shirt and hat, Chris quickly dried his face. As he wiped water from his dripping arms, he glanced down at his grey, cotton shirt, and his brain instantly registered that something was missing.

"Where’s… my hat?"

Picking up the shirt, the agent’s hazel eyes scanned the immediate vicinity, thinking the hat must have been caught by the wind. It was nowhere to be seen. Uttering a mild oath, Chris strode into the corral at the side of the huge barn, in the hope that his brand new – wax treated, waterproof and hence very expensive - black headgear was there. It wasn’t, so, shrugging into his shirt as he walked, the man ducked into the stables, back-tracking his movements of that morning. Chris searched in the tack room, and then thrust his head over each of the empty stalls, thinking he might have dropped it when turning out the horses earlier.

"I know for sure I was wearing it before I stacked the hay, so where the hell did I leave it?" he asked himself.

Another amble around the yard proved fruitless as the hat was nowhere to be seen. Chris even checked under his parked Ram, in case it had got blown under the vehicle and wedged behind a tyre. It was at this juncture that the ATF agent realised it was rather quiet, and it also dawned on him that he hadn’t seen either Vin or JD for some considerable time. Glancing across to the storage shack, he saw the small building’s door wide open, with the youngsters bikes haphazardly abandoned by the outer wall.

"Now where did the kids go? Jeez, I’m losing everything today!" Chris muttered irritably, as he strode over and checked inside the structure. The man frowned in puzzlement, his missing hat suddenly forgotten as he wondered where his and Buck’s son’s were – and more importantly, what they were up to.

That question at least was soon answered, as the sound of chattering, interspersed with giggles, heralded the pair’s arrival. Vin and JD were engrossed in conversation, and didn’t even look at Chris as they walked over to the nearly full trough. Both held a brightly coloured bucket, which they then immersed in the water to fill.

"Don’t go right to the top, else you’ll spill it," Vin warned his brother.

"I knows, Vin! I ain’t no baby that drops everything!" the small boy retorted hotly, tipping some water out of his bucket so it was half full instead of overflowing.

"Ya dropped the dirt jus’ now, ‘cause you was rushin’."

"I was not!" JD protested angrily. "Unca Ezra tol’ me a rushed job is a bad job, so I took it real slow."

Vin rolled his eyes in exasperation, as he pulled his full bucket out of the water. "Well he should know, ‘cause yesterday I heard dad tell Unca J’siah that Unca Ez only ever rushes for a card game, French brandy or a… a… " Vin’s face screwed up as he recalled what had been said – "un… undiscover excitement."

Walking towards the children, Chris couldn’t help but smile as he picked up Vin’s comment. How naïve of him to think his discussion with Josiah the previous evening had been private - especially when one of the ranch occupants was an observant and streetwise kid called Vin Tanner! The two agents had spoken briefly about the Southerner’s attributes and skills when on an undercover assignment, and clearly Chris’ adoptive son had overheard some, if not all, of the conversation. ‘Oh, well, I guess that’s what you get when you bring your work home,’ Larabee thought philosophically.

"Hey, guys! What are you doing?" Chris wanted to know.

"We’s getting water for the little fishes," Vin explained in a pleased-sounding voice.

"Oh… right… okay then. But you have to be careful around the pond, all right? Vin, don’t forget the fenced-off end is out of bounds to both you and JD," the man reminded his son.

Vin nodded wisely, his normally expressive face solemn. The boy was old beyond his years, and understood the inherent danger – particularly to JD – presented by the deep section of his uncle’s ornamental hobby fishpond. "I know, dad. We jus’ wanted to give them tiny fishes a fresh drink," he said, referring to the hundreds of newly hatched Koi carp that were hiding in the pond’s weed-infested shallows.

The baby fish fascinated both children, and knowing his protective son would make ensure that JD kept well away from the water’s edge, Chris nodded in approval. It was unlikely that they would come to any harm, and adding a few kiddie-sized buckets of trough water wouldn’t unbalance the pond’s delicate ecosystem for Buck’s prized fish. "That’s a good idea. I’ve nearly finished my work, so I’ll fix us some lunch soon. What do you guys want to eat?"

"Fish sticks ‘n’ fries!" Vin and JD whooped in unison.

Chris laughed at the incongruity of the boys lunch request. "Fish sticks it is then. I’ll come and get you when it’s ready, so don’t wander too far, will you?"

"We won’t, dad," Vin promised. "C’mon, JD, let’s finish with our pond."

The children wandered off, their features a picture of concentration as they carried their buckets of water to the side yard, or the ‘formal’ garden as Sarah Larabee used to call it. Once the boys had gone from sight, Chris had another quick look around the yard for his hat. That proved to be a complete waste of time and energy so, after venting his frustration with an irritated snarl and a half-hearted kick at a fence post, the man headed for the house to wash-up properly and cook food.

While Chris was preparing their meal, he saw Vin and JD from time to time through the kitchen window as they went back and forth to fill their little buckets. As he waited for the oven fries to cook, the blond searched in all the likely – and several unlikely – places in the house for his hat.

"Dammit!" Chris swore, when his frantic rummage through the coat closet in the hall failed to yield the mysteriously concealed hat.

"What the hell’s happened to it? A hat doesn’t just walk off on its own!" the blond ranted impotently, as he trudged back to the kitchen to check on the fries. He couldn’t fathom it out. How did an inanimate object disappear without a trace when the only people at the ranch were him and two kids? The timer suddenly pinged on the oven, interrupting Chris’ puzzled musings. Turning the stove off, but leaving the meal in the oven, he went to fetch Vin and JD for their lunch.

As Chris turned the corner of the ranch house, he saw the boys with their backs turned towards him, and squatting on the ground several feet from the pond. The pair’s attention was locked on something in front of them, but at a distance of some fifty yards, Larabee couldn’t make out what held their interest. As he got nearer, he heard the two children talking to one another. Chris had no idea why he did it, but he came to a halt, listening intently to the boys’ conversation.

"Give me the shiny red stone and the one that looks like a fat sausage," Vin requested, holding out his hand to JD.

"What ‘bout the snail houses, Vin?"

"Oh… yeah… let’s put ‘em at the top. Them shells sure are purty!" the older boy enthused.

"And so are those stones I found," JD interjected.

"Yes, they are," Vin responded with alacrity. "At least them poor babies won’t have to hide from the big ‘uns any more. Dad’s gonna be real pleased, ‘cause our pond’s much better fer them tiddlers."

"Can we catch them yet?"

Vin shook his head vigorously to the dark-haired boy’s enquiry. "Not yet. We’s gotta be sure they’s got ‘nough water, weed an’ such in their new home. Else they might die, JD," he added in a grave voice.

Curiosity finally got the better of Chris at that remark by Vin, and he tiptoed over to the boys, avoiding any leaves and twigs on the grass so as not to alert the pair to his presence. Looking over Vin and JD’s bowed heads, he saw what the children had been occupied with for the past hour or so.

In a patch of bare earth near the fishpond, they’d dug out a hole and constructed their own tiny, perfectly round ‘pond’. A selection of pretty and unusual-shaped stones, plus several empty snail shells rimmed the perimeter, and water lapped close to this circular border. Peering into the small ‘pond’, Chris saw a few strands of pondweed floating in what was most likely the trough water Vin and JD had collected. Spotting the boys fishnets laying close to the main pond, it didn’t take a genius to work out what the pair would be doing next.

Ever since the Larabee-Wilmington family had discovered the spawning carp, Vin and JD had become obsessed with the tiny additions to the pond. However, their initial delight and wonderment had quickly turned to dismay and horror when they’d seen the hatchlings being chased and gobbled up by the adult fish. Chris and Buck had decided to be as forthright as they could with their kids, having learnt that honesty was generally the best policy when it came to everyday matters like this. The men had patiently explained that it was a natural process in the animal world, and meant that only the strongest, fastest and cleverest tiddlers survived to become the fittest of the species. The two boys had reluctantly accepted their fathers’ explanations, but clearly found the situation intolerable. So they had come up with their own solution to the problem.

An indulgent smile curved Chris’ lips as he surveyed the ‘pond’ the children had lovingly built. However, that quickly faded when he saw what Vin and JD had used as a container. The new pond’s waterproof liner was his missing hat!

"That’s my hat, boys!"

Larabee’s stern declaration made the boys jump a little, and they hastily scrambled to their feet, wiping their damp and dirty hands on their just as grubby jeans.

"We know it is, dad. But look at our pond!" Vin beseeched, before Chris had a chance to say anything else.

Grabbing the man’s hand, the older boy pulled his father nearer so that he could get a better look at his and JD’s handiwork. "JD ‘n’ me couldn’t let those teensy fish die, so we made ‘em their own pond. The big ‘uns won’t get ‘em then," Vin said proudly.

The ATF leader knew he should tell off the pair of scallywags for taking something without his knowledge or permission. But it was hard to be angry with Vin and JD when Chris saw the prideful, self-satisfied look painted on both of their faces. The boys had acted imaginatively, whilst demonstrating a clever initiative, with well-meaning and clearly humane intentions. That in itself was a rarity in children their age. Besides, his hat was durable and of a high quality, so he could easily retrieve it and clean it up.

As that consoling thought trundled through his mind, Chris’ steely visage softened. “No, they’ll be safe in there, son,” he murmured, squeezing Vin's fingers comfortingly. “I guess hats have their uses. But next time you want to borrow something of mine, ask me first. Okay?”

"We will," Vin avowed, nudging JD until the youngster nodded his own agreement.

"Good. Now let’s go have our lunch. And this afternoon, we’ll make a start on digging out a hole so you boys can have a proper pond of your own for the tiddlers. How does that sound?"

The shrieks of joy and excitement from Vin and JD spoke volumes, and gave Chris a contented feeling inside. With a warm, fatherly smile, he took each boys hand, and the three headed towards the house, talking animatedly about their joint, forthcoming project as they walked.