Disclaimer: All things Barkley belong to the PTBs and I am not making one red cent on any of it.
Summary: Nick can handle any trouble square on. But what happens when the avenging brother of a dead bank robber goes after his own brand of revenge: An Eye for an Eye.
Eye For An Eye by Chianna
Chapter 3
Rawlston surveyed his handiwork as he ambled down between the rocks. For a moment, the sight of the youth lying in the dirt made him think of this brother. He took a deep breath and screwed his eyes tightly shut for a moment. Revenge, he determined. That was no boy - just a tool. A tool for him to exact his revenge.
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The first indication that Heath had he was lying on the ground, was the heat of the sun beating mercilessly on his back. Trying to gather both arms under him so he could push himself to a sitting position, Heath realized that his left arm was not following orders. Then, he remembered. He was shot off of Charger and laying in the dust on the trail.
Hearing noises to his right, the blond cowpoke started to lift his head.
"Naw boy, you'll not be wanting to turn your head. If'n you get a good look at me, that would take all the fun outta this here game."
Something sounded so out of place about the geniality of the voice addressing him, it took a moment for the cowboy's pain-addled brain to catch up with the circumstances he found himself in.
"Game, mister? You call shootin' a man a game?"
"Well, I can imagine that from your vantage point, son, this might not feel much like a game." As if amused by his observation, the disembodied voice chucked softly.
"I'm not your son, you sonofabitch, and if I were, this would not be what I'd be call'n a sign of fatherly affection." This time the stranger laughed out right.
"I do have to admit that it's gonna be a darn pity to kill you. You have spirit, boy."
At that last comment, the fallen man made a feeble attempt to right himself. Heath couldn't believe this fella was going to shoot him in cold blood, but then everything about this situation seemed rather surreal. He attempted to push up with his good arm and almost got the leverage he needed – getting himself a few inches off the ground. Suddenly, a booted foot planted itself firmly between his shoulder blades and shoved him face down into the ground once again.
"Uh, uh, uh." Said the stranger. Heath could almost see the guy shaking his head in mocking censure. "You behave yourself boy-o. If you play your cards right, you'll survive to see your family once more."
Heath couldn't suppress a groan as his injured shoulder made hard contact with the earth. He tried his best to clamp down on the wave of dizziness caused by the intense pain. The comments his attacker made only further confused Heath's pain-dulled wits.
Heath gritted out, "Make up your mind mister. Either you're gonna kill me or your not."
"Well now Barkley, rather impatient, aren't you? Me, on the other hand – I'm the soul of patience. Two years I've bided my time. I think I'll be savoring this a bit longer - if you don't mind?"
With every utterance of the bushwhacker, Heath scoured his mind to place the voice. He couldn't.
"Mister, I'm pretty sure that I don't know you. So if I don't know you, I don't know what I could'a done to you… to…to deserve this."
"Oh, Barkley, you underestimate yourself. You and that older brother of yours - Nick's his name, I'm think'n. You all left an indelible mark on my life - you playing the white knight and your brother, the avenging slayer. I was just thinking that he might enjoy a game where we make you the King and see how he likes trying to ensure that you are not taken. I want him to sweat out every moment until he holds your dead body in his arms."
"More… riddles?" It was getting hard for Heath to keep the strain out of his voice. His head was starting to ache. Did he hit it when he fell or was this fella's round about way of communicating taking its toll on him?
"You're sounding a bit peaked, boy, and I do want you to get home in relatively one piece to tell your bother about our little game. Looks to me like you know your way around horseflesh, Barkley. That horse of yours is not too far away. If'n you're careful, you might have a ride back instead of having to walk. And boy, if you turn this way before I saddle up and ride, I'll plug you right between the eyes. And that would be a damned shame to rob a man of an opportunity for amusement that he's been looking forward to for nigh on to two years now."
Heath heard steps retreating, the creak of leather as a body swung into the saddle and the sounds of a horse wheeling around and departing at a leisurely jog. It seemed easier to roll over on his back than to try and lift himself up on one arm. He was able to roll over to his right with relative ease, but almost regretted his decision the moment the bright sun struck his eyes. White-hot needles of pain shot through his head sending companion waves of nausea through his gut. Taking a couple of deep breaths, Heath touched his hand to his temple and saw blood as he brought his hand in front of his face. Heath was having trouble focusing on his hand or his horse a short distance away. Must have took a harder knock to the head than I first thought, Heath guessed.
Charger was pawing the ground about ten yards away. Heath called to him and thanked his lucky stars for the fact that his horse's faithfulness outweighed his instinctive skittishness at the scent of blood. The cowboy needed the spare shirt in his saddlebag for a bandage, not to mention that he was beginning to think that the only way he was gonna get on his feet again would be to haul himself up by grabbing one of Charger's stirrups and pulling himself up.
Putting this plan into action, Heath whistled softly. Charger came immediately, as if he'd just been awaiting an invitation. Whickering softly at his rider, Charger gently nosed the cowboy's good shoulder as if to check him out for himself. Heath chucklde even as the movement caused him more pain. Grasping Charger's stirrup, he pulled himself to his knees and rose shakily to his feet. He desperately needed to stop the bleeding. Luckily, the shot had hit just below the collarbone. Heath was not sure that he would have been able to ride a horse with the pain of a broken collarbone grinding away at him with each step the horse took. But he had another very serious problem. He knew the bullet had passed through from the damp warmth coursing down his back. The exit would be a helluva lot messier than the entrance. One-armed cowpokes were not very handy with patching up back wounds, but he'd have to give it a shot.
Rummaging through his saddlebag, he pulled out one of his chambray shirts and a knife. Heath cut strips by starting a cut and then pulling it apart by grabbing one end in his teeth and yanking to rend the material. There was no hope of wadding a pad for the exit wound, so tying a couple of strips together to add thickness was the best he could do. He would a pad for the front and tied the strips as tight as he could bear. The pain that had been reduced to a dull throb, roared back with a vengeance. His legs almost bucked and he hurriedly grabbed the saddle horn and leaned his head against Charger's warm side. With horsy affection, Charger leaned ever so gently into his rider as well and dipped his head back over his shoulder as if to offer further encouragement.
"Alright boy, this is the hard part - leastwise for me. Just hold still old son. I'm not feelin' up to any of your shenanigans tonight." Continuing to whisper gentle words of encouragement, Heath put his left foot in the stirrup and grabbed awkwardly at the saddle horn. What followed was the most inelegant belly flop-style mount that Heath was glad would never be witnessed by his teasing brother Nick.
The sun was already beginning to settle over the golden California hills. Numbly Heath realized that he still had twenty miles left to travel before he reached home. And every one of those miles would be in the saddle, 'cause he was sure as the sun coming up in the morning, that if he got out of the saddle, he'd never get back in again.
Leaning over Charger's neck, he whispered his most fervent desire to the only ears that could hear him for miles around.
"Get me home, boy. Please, get me home."
TBC…