On a working ranch, Saturday was just another day of the week. Unless, of course, you consider the fact that the end of the day was normally punctuated by a night on the town by most of the hands. By the time Heath had had roused himself from bed, had breakfast and headed out to the barn, it was almost ten in the morning. But when Nick spotted him, he was not suspicious of Heath's motives. He had been lulled into a false sense of security through a relentless campaign orchestrated by his wily and patient adversary.
The last couple of days Heath had hit the sack early, protesting drowsiness and sore muscles. In the mornings, he'd slept in and lingered over breakfast in the kitchen with Silas, since most of the family were done before he would get downstairs.
Nick smelled a rat from the very beginning. But he just could not figure out Heath's angle. Thursday night, Heath came down for dinner and later sat in the study, watching as his brother's played a game of billiards. After sitting for a while, he got up and poured himself a shot of whiskey and settled back down in the chair. Nick noticed that Heath's movements seemed to slow and stiffen as the night progressed. Soon, Heath's teasing banter was peppered with as many yawns as barbs aimed at his brothers. It surprised no one when, at about half passed eight, Heath called it a night and made his way unsteadily upstairs, declining any assistance.
Sure that something was up, Nick told his family he was going out for a smoke – which lasted all of three unpleasant hours of spying under Heath's window. Nick was certain that Heath would be shinnying down the trellis next to the balcony any second now. Shortly after the light had turned on in his room, it turned off once again.
Crossing his arms in smug certainty, Nick leaned against the wall in the shadow of the balcony. Oh yeah - he would wait until a booted foot hit the ground. Wouldn't want to startle Heath and risk him falling. Mother would scalp him for sure. Nope. He knew just what he would say to Heath. He'd wait until Heath thought he was home free and then step from the shadows. Just a simple 'where do you think your going, boy' should tell his brother that the jig was up.
Any time now, Nick thought to himself. But then ten, twenty, thirty minutes went by -and still no Heath. At the start of the second hour, Nick had convinced himself that he was dealing with a wily customer. He would show Heath who could out-wait who. Didn't he spend three nights hiding behind a log with Heath before they caught those rustlers last winter?
'Course, his natural concern to make sure the horses would be ready to run after the rustlers might have caused him to get up a few times. Didn't really warrant Heath's whispered threat to "nail his britches to the log is he did keep jumpin' up like a jackrabbit to check on the horses every fifteen minutes." It wasn't that often, for crying out loud.
Approaching his third hour under the balcony, Nick started to realize that maybe Heath was not planning on sneaking out that night. Didn't help that Jarrod came out to mock him with a handful of cigars.
"Long smoke you've got going here, brother Nick. Since it's almost midnight, I thought I'd replenish your supply in case you were thinking about standing out here the rest of the night." As his eyes became accustomed to the dim light, Jarrod noticed that Nick's impatient hands had gone to work on Mother's prized wisteria. When Jarrod drew Nick's attention to the vine, he noted that there was a significant patch of leafless stems.
Taking advantage of Nick's dawning realization as to how much trouble he was in with Mother, Jarrod drawled, "You better hit the sack now, Nick, so that you are well rested for Mother's inquisition as to how her wisteria were defoliated overnight." Jarrod punctuated his suggestion with a toothy grin that could be seen even in the dim light.
Nick rolled his eyes and headed back to the house. With his own smile, he thought, too bad about those cigars. Anyone could misjudge the path back to the house and accidentally step on an unfortunately placed brotherly foot. Must have hurt if Jarrod accidentally dropped the cigars. Oops, too bad he stepped on them. Course that little extra twist with his heel wasn't absolutely necessary – but it felt sooooo good.
Friday night was much the same, though this time, Nick decided to check on Heath after he went to sleep instead of spending half the night outside. One hour after Heath had labored up the stairs to bed, Nick had snuck into his brother's bedroom. Heath lay on his back in bed, his right arm lay flung over his eyes and his injured left curled almost protectively on his chest. The bruises on his chest and arms, stood out like dark shadows in the faint moonlight. Nick stood at the foot of the bed and wanted to kick himself for thinking that his brother was "playing possum." The he saw the bottle of pain medicine sitting on the nightstand with a spoon. Knowing how he felt about medicine, Nick knew that his brother had to be in a lot of pain to start taking the laudanum again. Heath had never mentioned that he was in that much pain. But then he never did. Dammit. He was looking for Heath to sneak out of the house when he should have been looking out so that his brother didn't overdo his recovery. Nick's knuckles whitened as he realized he was strangling the bedpost when he really wanted to strangle the man who had done all this to his little brother. Chastising himself, Nick decided, there and then, that he needed to stop thinking like a warden and start thinking like a brother.
So, it should be no surprise that when Nick spied Heath going to the stables Saturday morning, Nick's thoughts were to make sure that Heath would not strain himself rather than making sure that he did not take off.
Nick stepped off the porch and purposefully headed after his brother. Any lingering doubts that he had about Heath's intentions vanished when saw Heath murmuring to Charger from outside the stall. Heath's saddle still sat on the ledge of the stall. There were no saddlebags or bedroll.
Without actually looking toward Nick, Heath addressed his brother. "Nate's been exercising Charger some. Told me that he was a bit restless. Guess he's no more used to being cooped up than I am."
Nick came up to the stall and gave Charger a sound ear scratching that had the appreciative horse leaning against the stall door.
An idea came to Nick and he immediately shared it with his brother. "Why don't I give ol' Coco a rest and take Charger out with me to check the north fence line on Monday."
"Hey, that's a great idea. You wouldn't mind?"
"Naw. Might even give him his head and see just how fast this horse can go when he has a real rider on his back."
Heath snorted and opened up the door to the stall as he attached a lead to the harness he'd already put on Charger.
"Where do you think you're going with him?" Nick couldn't help the note of suspicion that snuck into his head.
"Just going to lead him to the fenced pasture back behind the house. Thought he'd enjoy kicking up his heels a bit."
Relieved at the simple explanation, Nick over road his brother's plans. "Back behind the house? Are you crazy? That pasture is at least a mile away. I'll take Charger out there for you. Find something a little less strenuous to pass the time doing - for crying out loud."
"Alright mother." Pointing to a couple of bridles in sorry shape hanging near the tack room, Heath suggested, "Guess I can take those into the house and work on them."
Adopting a slightly condescending tone, Nick couldn't help himself as he led Charger out of the barn. "Hey! Now there you go. That's just the type of work a broken down ol' cowboy can handle."
Heath's snort in mock annoyance put a smile on Nick's face. However Nick would not have been smiling if he had seen the grin of satisfaction that Heath favored his brother's back with as he played unwitting accomplice to his younger brother's plans.
TBC…