Never Cock the Hammer
Nick was eleven years old when his hands finally grew big enough for him to hold a handgun properly. His older brother, then fifteen, had been target shooting for several years and carried a handgun when he was working on the range, so their father felt it was appropriate for Jarrod to give Nick his first lessons on handling a loaded pistol and shooting at tin cans lined up on the fence behind the barn.
"The first thing you have to remember and always remember is that you never put your finger on the trigger or cock the hammer before you have the gun aimed at the target you're going to shoot," Jarrod said. "What did I just say?"
Nick dutifully repeated, "Never put your finger on the trigger or cock the hammer before you have the gun aimed at the target you're going to shoot."
Twenty years later, those words slammed around in Nick's mind as he sat and buried his face in his hands. He had broken the cardinal rule his big brother had drummed into him so diligently all those years ago. He had been target shooting with Jarrod and Heath behind that same barn, shooting tin cans off that same fence, when Nick cocked the hammer of his gun as he was raising it to aim. And the gun slipped out of his hand.
He could still see it falling to the ground, so slowly he wondered why he couldn't have caught it before it hit the dirt. But he didn't catch it. It hit the ground. It went off.
At first all three of them just stood perfectly still, looking down at the gun as it bounced slightly after going off. Nick bent to pick it up, embarrassed. "I guess – "
He got no farther before something made him look up at his older brother. He saw those blue eyes grow wide and then go gray. Nick and Heath saw the blood on Jarrod's chest at the same time Jarrod crumpled to the ground like a scarecrow cut free from its cross.
XXXXXX
Heath paced. Nick had been sitting on the settee ever since the doctor arrived and chased the two of them out of Jarrod's room, keeping Victoria and Audra there to assist him. An hour went by, then an hour and a half, and Nick had not said a word. Now and then he lowered his face into his hands. Now and then he looked toward the stairs and up toward the landing. Heath tried to get him to take some brandy, but Nick just ignored him.
Heath paced. He didn't take any brandy either. He looked up at the landing, then at Nick, then at the clock, over and over. He was just about to head upstairs when they heard a door close up there.
Nick jumped up and headed for the stairs, Heath right behind him. The doctor was coming down. Alone. He looked tired, worn, grieved. Nick and Heath waited for him at the foot of the stairs. Now that he was bringing them the news they had been trembling for, they didn't want to hear it.
And Dr. Merar didn't want to say it. "It's very bad. You should go be with your mother and sister."
Heath almost had to push Nick up the stairs. The distance to Jarrod's room from the stairs seemed to grow farther with every footstep. All Nick could think was, "Never put your finger on the trigger or cock the hammer before you have the gun aimed at the target you're going to shoot."
They opened the door and went in. Audra quickly came to Nick and put her arms around him, but he was only looking at his brother in his bed, pale and still. Their mother sat beside the bed, holding his hand. Nick went closer in a daze, not even realizing he was doing it. When he stopped beside his mother, Victoria laid Jarrod's hand back down on the bed beside him and took hold of Nick's hand.
Nick couldn't bear her touch. He couldn't bear the sight of his brother, couldn't bear the noise of Jarrod's breath coming in short bursts, couldn't bear the words screaming around in his own mind. "Never put your finger on the trigger or cock the hammer before you have the gun aimed at the target you're going to shoot."
"I'm sorry," Nick said and quickly left the room.
Victoria looked urgently at Heath. He knew that look. She wanted him to go after Nick, to keep him steady and out of trouble. Heath gave Audra a quick kiss on the cheek and went out after Nick.
Nick was already out the front door, his holster over his shoulder. Heath hurried to catch up to him but didn't reach him until Nick was in the barn, grabbing the saddle blanket to saddle his horse.
"Nick, you need to stay here," Heath said and reached for him.
Nick flattened his younger brother before Heath ever saw it coming, and Heath stayed flat on the ground. Several men stood around helplessly, knowing better than to get in Nick's way. Nick was saddled and out the door in what seemed more like moments than minutes.
The foreman McCall came running from another part of the yard, but he couldn't catch Nick before he rode off. He went into the barn where Heath was getting to his feet, wiping blood from his mouth. He steadied Heath, asking, "What's happened?"
Everyone knew that Nick had accidentally shot Jarrod, but no one knew what was going on in the big house. Heath looked around at all the men standing, staring in silence. Heath said, "Jarrod's dying, Mac. I have to get Nick back here."
"I'll do it," McCall said. "I'm already saddled, and you need to go back into the house and be with your family."
McCall left him and ran for his horse, saddled and hitched near one of the corrals. In moments, he was taking off after Nick.
XXXXXX
Nick rode fast, then faster, then faster still, away from the ranch. Away from Stockton. Down the road that led away from everything and everyone he knew because he could not bear to be around them or to be there when Jarrod died. He could not bear his mother's touch or his sister's arms or anything about his home or his family. He could not bear himself.
But you can never outrun yourself. Nick knew it deep inside, even if some part of him thought this escape was going to work. He rode faster and faster and he finally heard his horse gasping for breath, and so he slowed. Coco was pretty old now. Some sense of normalcy grabbed Nick and told him that riding Coco to death was not what he wanted to do. It wouldn't help anything. It wouldn't save Jarrod.
He came across a spot in the road where a creek drew close before veering off again. Nick dismounted there, let Coco take some water, then tethered him to a tree to let him rest. Nick found a rock and sat down with his face in his hands.
"Never put your finger on the trigger or cock the hammer before you have the gun aimed at the target you're going to shoot."
He could hear Jarrod's fifteen-year-old voice saying those words. He could see them in writing in his mind's eye. They kept repeating, over and over.
McCall came upon him nearly twenty minutes after Nick had stopped. Nick didn't hear him ride up, didn't even know anyone was there until his horse whinnied. Nick looked up, saw his foreman, a man who had known him almost all of his life, knew him when Jarrod first taught him how to fire a handgun, knew him when Jarrod said, "Never put your finger on the trigger or cock the hammer before you have the gun aimed at the target you're going to shoot."
Nick finally burse into tears and buried his face in his hands again. McCall sat down beside him, rubbed his back, kept his arm around him. For a long time he didn't say anything. He didn't have any words, and Nick didn't need any anyway. What Nick needed he couldn't have – the last few hours back again.
Nick cried until he was utterly exhausted. McCall took hold of his hand and said, "We need to go home, Nick."
Nick shook his head. "I can't."
"You have to, son," McCall said. "What happened, happened. It's done. What matters now is your family needs you."
Nick wiped his face. "They don't need me. How can they need me? I've killed my brother, Mac. I've killed Jarrod."
McCall had thought the tears were all gone, but they came up fresh again. Nick began to shake with sobbing. McCall kept hold of him and said nothing for several more minutes.
Nick ultimately wiped his face again. "I don't know what I'm gonna do, Mac. I can't – I can't – " He couldn't even find the words to say what he couldn't do.
McCall was pretty sure he knew what the words were. "You're feeling guilty. You're feeling responsible. And well you should. You've made a bad mistake. You gotta own up to it, Nick. You gotta swallow it and you gotta put yourself aside now. Your mother needs you."
"She doesn't need me," Nick said. "She needs Jarrod, and I've taken him."
"She needs you, Nick," McCall said. "How is she gonna go on if you don't come back home? If Jarrod dies and you don't come home, how is she gonna go on? Do you want to kill her too?"
Nick nearly flew up off the rock, his eyes glaring at the foreman, his fists balled up and ready to swing and hit – but Nick stopped himself. He looked at the ground in front of him.
"I know how bad you're hurting, Nick," McCall said, quietly and sympathetically now. "I know this is tearing you up inside and it probably will for the rest of your days. But it's gonna tear you up worse if you leave that beautiful woman to bear up under this without you. You gotta get your heart back in you and go home and be a man."
Nick swallowed. For a long time he said nothing, but then he said, "I know you're right. I just don't think I can do it."
"You gotta do it," McCall said. "You gotta forget about Nick Barkley and even forget about Jarrod Barkley. You gotta think only about Victoria Barkley and Audra Barkley and Heath Barkley. They need you to own up to what happened and be the rock I know you can be. The rock Jarrod always knew you could be."
Nick sucked a heavy breath in. He looked up and saw it was beginning to get dark. Night was coming on. "I'm no rock," Nick said. He didn't know if he would stay there, but he said, "But I'll go home."
McCall helped him up, steadied him and got him to his horse and up into the saddle. They rode back to the ranch together, arriving there when it was fully dark. All of the lights in the house that were usually on, were on tonight. Except for all the men milling around in silence, everything looked so horribly normal.
"I'll take care of Coco," McCall said as Nick dismounted.
Nick nodded and went into the house.
Silas was there in the foyer, starting up the stairs with a tray of food and coffee. He stopped when he saw Nick.
Nick took the tray from him. "I'll take care of this, Silas," he said. "But would you bring some water up? And stay with us, please?"
Silas nodded solemnly and went back to the kitchen.
Nick carried the tray up and into Jarrod's room. Everything was the same as it was when he left, except now Audra was also in a chair beside the bed. Heath was at the window. They looked up at him when he came in. Victoria looked up a little after Heath and Audra did. Nick locked gazes with his mother, and in her eyes he saw relief. He knew it was for him, and he felt doubly ashamed for having left. He put the tray on the dresser, saying, "Silas made some food. He's gonna bring some water up, too." He almost asked how Jarrod was, but the words would not come out.
Nick came to his mother and stood behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders. Jarrod was exactly the same as he was before, breathing noisily in short bursts, but at least he was breathing.
"I'm sorry," Nick said quietly, sorry for everything he'd done on this dreadful day, for being careless with his gun, for running away.
"It's done, Nick," Victoria said. "Thank you for coming home."
Nick caught a sob before it got too far away from him. "You should eat something, Mother."
Victoria shook her head. "I'll take some water when Silas brings it up."
Jarrod suddenly took a loud, deep breath. Victoria gasped and held his hand tighter. He's gonna die, Nick thought. He's gonna die, right now.
Audra and Heath came closer to the bed. Nick caught another sob. Jarrod sighed but kept on breathing, quieter now, maybe even a bit more evenly.
Victoria finally began to cry. Nick rubbed her shoulders. "I'm here, Mother. I won't leave again."
"I know you won't," Victoria said.
XXXXX
Morning came. Everyone in the room had fallen asleep, except Nick. His mind was still beating him up, all night long. He looked around at all his family members – even Silas, who had fallen asleep by the door, as if he wanted to keep Nick here or at least be alerted if he tried to leave.
The sun began to stream in through the window. Nick checked on Jarrod for the fiftieth time. Jarrod was still breathing, evenly now for sure. You fight this, Pappy, Nick thought. You fight this.
Jarrod opened his eyes before anyone else did. It happened so suddenly and unexpectedly that Nick practically jumped. Neither man spoke at first. Jarrod looked around the room as if he were confused, didn't know where he was. He finally spoke. He said, "Huh," surprised.
"How you doing, Jarrod?" Nick asked.
Jarrod looked at him, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "All right, I guess," he said softly. He looked around at everyone else, still asleep. "What happened?"
"You don't remember?"
"We were target shooting – oh, and your gun fell and I got shot, I guess."
"Yeah," Nick said quietly.
Nick expected a chewing out, but Jarrod had mercy on him. Jarrod closed his eyes and then opened them again with a little smile. "Cocked the hammer too early again, didn't you?"
Nick almost laughed. "What do you mean, 'again'?"
"I've caught you doing it before," Jarrod said. "Guess you won't do it anymore."
"No, I won't do it anymore," Nick said.
Jarrod saw Nick's face clearly for the first time. He reached a hand up weakly and wiped a tear off. Jarrod closed his eyes again. "Don't worry. I'll be here to call you on it every time now."
"Never put your finger on the trigger or cock the hammer before you have the gun aimed at the target you're going to shoot," Nick said, even more softly than he'd spoken before.
Jarrod smiled. "Sage advice. I wonder who gave it to you." He drifted off to sleep, breathing evenly, comfortably.
"My big brother," Nick said even more quietly, and he rested his head against Jarrod's arm and cried his last tears.
The End