Thanks for all the wonderful reviews, especially from the Nick fans! I've been concerned that I keep some balance between all of the characters, so your encouragement (especially You, MrsNick!) is greatly appreciated. For all you Heathens… I hope this chappie makes up for the heathless one previously. - Chianna
If you don't want to browse through the board for earlier chapters, you can locate the first four here…
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 5Only twenty miles from the ranch for Heath meant that he was practically in his own back yard. Trying to keep alert, he thought about the distance. Ten miles would be good travel for a herd, like the one that totaled almost three thousand they drove to the railhead last year. 'Bout 60 more miles to San Francisco as the crow flies he mused. Head sixty in the other direction from Stockton and you hit Strawberry. But boy howdy, more like a world away in experience and opportunities.
Twenty miles in a day wouldn't be too bad for a man alone on horseback, though kind of pushing it when you take into account the rolling hills between himself and home.
'Course that would be at a normal walk, Heath thought. There had been nothing normal about this night's ride.
Heath knew that Charger could sense his unsteadiness and had slowed his gate accordingly. At least once, his numbed fingers had dropped the reins. He groped for them along Charger's finely arched neck. Leaning forward, he became dizzy and wrapped his fingers around his horse's mane. Disoriented, Heath suddenly imagined himself as a boy riding bareback on the swayback mare that was the only ride that he and his mother could afford for their ancient two-seat rig. On the precious few times in his childhood when he was not working to help his mother put food on the table, Heath would jump on Molly's back and pretend that she was his noble steed - riding into battle with full armor to rescue some fair-haired maiden. In his youthful imagination, the maiden always seemed to resemble his mother. Lacking a bridle, he would weave his fingers into Molly's mane and use the alternating pressure of his rail-thin legs to steer the old girl. Though Molly rarely moved faster than a bumpy trot, to Heath it seemed as if he was king of the wind.
Sometime during his confused imaginings, he must have drifted out of consciousness. Charger, sensing this, slowed to a stop. No telling how long he waited for his rider to return to his senses. When Heath had finally stirred, red, pink and coral stained the eastern sky with the first hint of sunrise. His mind drifting again, he thought, red sky at night – sailor's delight, red sky at morning, sailor take warning. Taking a long, shaky, breath – Heath feared that his bad luck was taking another turn – all for the worst. As if to rub salt in a raw wound, the breeze picked up with a chill and dampness that heralded exactly what he feared. Moving west toward the ranch, he would be heading right into the weather that he had just predicted in nautical rhyme.
At least, with daybreak, Heath could make out markers that told him exactly where he was. He was only five miles closer to home. He was so cold. The only warmth, the unwelcome sticky wetness that made his shirt cling to his left side, did not bode well. Oddly the pain of each step that Charger planted seemed to be the only anchor the young man had to consciousness.
The next fifteen miles stretched out in front of Heath, making Stockton seem as distant as Shanghai.
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"Aw, Hell," Nick grumbled as he slammed the corral gate behind him. The morning's chores had dragged on and time seemed to stand still. His initial inclination when he woke up was to head out to meet Heath immediately.
Pulling off his hat, Nick ran shaky fingers through his unruly black hair in frustration. When Heath left four mornings previous, he had told Nick that he was picking up the trinket and heading straight back… "So don't worry big brother, I'll be back in plenty of time for you to catch up on all your harping about what needs to be done around this spread." As he swung up onto his horse to leave, Heath tipped his white Stetson back, revealing a shock of golden hair and giving himself the air of a most innocent cowpoke.
"Besides Nick, my heading out for a few days will give you a chance to see just how much you can get done without me bein' here to set the pace." Accompanied by a roguish grin, Nick could hardly be too angry with his younger brother. After two years, Heath's ease with Nick had been hard won and Nick tried never to take it too much for granted.
"I'll show you setting a pace," Nick grumbled good-naturedly and swatted Charger's rump. The horse leapt forward to the accompaniment of the trailing laugher of his normally more reticent brother.
Now, four days later, Nick could not pinpoint the exact reason for his concern. Jarrod's calculations had been reasonable. Heath should be home sometime today. Maybe they should start getting concerned tonight, if the boy was not back by dinnertime. The thought seemed reasonable, but a gnawing uncertainty.
Lunch hadn't been a pleasant affair. Sensing Nick's volatile mood, the family concentrated on their food as if what they found under the next forkful of green peas would reveal the meaning of life. He had, quietly fumed through lunch and more loudly stomped out of the house. So here he was standing in front of the corral wondering why the hell he was waiting, when every instinct he had was to go ride out to meet Heath. Worst he would hazard was some teasing from that boy about already having one mother. Jarrod would probably tell him 'I told you so.' But Mother and Audra would understand. Not even realizing where he where he was walknig, Nick found himself at the front door without realizing that his unconscious mind had decided before he had he made his decision. Slamming the door open, Nick hollered, "Mother! I'm taking a little ride." The announcement was accompanied by the jingle and thumps of spurs on booted feet taking the stairs two at a time.
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Six hours had passed, long and hard. Heath and Charger were now heading into a stiff wind that seemed to blow straight from the chilly waters of the Pacific Ocean. Though the rain had not yet started, he already was chilled to the bone. Heath knew from bad experience that the chill he was feeling was most likely intensified by the shock induced by blood loss. He'd made it almost ten more miles, but now he could not feel his hands or feet. Tremors shook him, making his seat on Charger far from secure. At some point Heath had dropped Charger's reins and not attempted to pick them up a final time. Instead, he grasped the pommel as firmly as he could and counted on Charger's familiarity with the way back to his warm, straw-lined stall at the Barkley ranch. Best Heath could guess was that had happen about an hour ago. His eyes ached and the only thing that seemed to sooth them was to close them against the wind and dimming light. Each time they stayed closed for a little longer as he tried to stave off unconsciousness.
Passing out proved not to be the cowboy's undoing. Rather, Heath's progress to the ranch was undone by an unexpected dip in the road. Under normal circumstances, Heath would have compensated by shifting his weight back to make up for the horse's slight forward lurch as he picked his way down the mild depression. Instead, Heath had been caught off guard and lost his tenuous hold, slipping sideways off of the saddle. As the ground rushed up to meet him, Heath did his best to fall on his uninjured right side. Yet the jolt of hitting the ground passed through his body like a seismic surge. As the pain washed though him, Heath curled onto the ground as wave after wave of nausea and dizziness held him in its grip.
Slowly Heath gained control over his body one last time. Grasping Charger's stirrup with his good right arm, he closed his eyes and moved his legs to keep them out from under the horse's hooves. Counting on Charger's obedience and training, Heath ordered him "Forward." The horse dragged his rider toward some tree's that lined the well-worn path that would afford them some protection. Charger stopped at the base of a large oak just as the first drops of rain started to fall.
Barely clinging to consciousness, the pain blazing in his head and shoulder finally were taking their toll. Heath whispered his thanks to his faithful companion standing over him as if to offer some small degree of shelter. "We've done all we can, old son." Overwhelmed with the hopelessness of his situation, Heath's eyes shut tightly to contain the threatening moisture that blended on his cheeks with the rain that had begun in full measure.
Into the teeth of the wind, Heath murmured, "I've come to meet you more than half way, as usual, brother. I need ya' to find me, Nick." Finally he yelled just one word, "Nick!"
With his last strength he entreated softly, "Please, God, let him find me." The threatening waves of darkness finally washed over him, allowing Heath to drift far from the pain, cold and forlorn hope and into the arms of welcome oblivion.
TBC…