Robyn's father was always your father's closest friend. Even though they were neighboring – and therefore rivaling – ranchers they've always been friendly, to the point where their sons basically grew up as brothers, Robyn and you.

Robyn excelled early on, in basically everything there was to master. He did well academically, was a hard worker and went to church every Sunday, and in his father's – and your own father's – eyes, he could do no wrong. You knew better, you've seen the stupid shit he could pull off after drinking one too many beers or just to impress a girl, but you never told on him.

But while Robyn grew up as the golden child of the little settlement, you were always the lazy one, the gluttonous one that would never become anything more than a cheap farmhand; even your own father thought so, you could see it in his eyes. Robyn never treated you like that, but he was the only exception, really.

One day, as the two of you came back from a day at the creek, your father waited for you on the front porch. Never a good sign.

"Where the hell were ya, boy?"

He asked you pointedly before taking a drag from his cigar. You told him that you two had been at the creek, like you were almost every day in summer.

"And ya decided to ignore the chores I gave ya? Get inside."

Your father said coldly before pulling off his belt and gathering the ends in his hands.