Riding bareback sent him back a ways. Easier than riding a bronc, little more physically challenging than riding with a saddle. He was traveling light, but even so he missed the packing capacity of a saddle. He had the saddlebags lying in front of him. If it weren't for his shoulder, he'd have wrapped some items in the bedroll and tied a rope to either end to seal in the meager contents and slung it over a shoulder to hang behind him. Instead, he secured it around his waist let it fall behind him to rest on the horse's flank.
The bedroll contained the meager rations that he was able to squirrel away during and after meals in the past week. Biscuits from breakfast, fruit from the table in the foyer, a little cheese. Once he was far enough a way from the ranch and in a small enough town where his face would not be recognized, he'd need to provision. Number one and two on the list would be a saddle and food. Even a second hand saddle would dip dangerously into the small amount of money he had. Hopefully he could scavenge enough food on the trail. To that point and also for his own protection, Heath deeply regretted not finding a way to bring his rifle.
Boy howdy, had he been surprised when he finally opened the case on Christmas morning. He could tell that Nick had been beside himself to get Heath to open his present. Nick had been busting on Heath about the old Henry. Even nicked and worn, it still shot true. Good enough for him, he supposed.
To tweak her brother Nick, Audra had kept circling the oblong box - giving Heath every present but the one that Nick was having fits to get his little brother to open.
Finally, with a wicked smile at her middle brother, Audra placed the long box on Heath's lap. Nick had inched up to the edge of his chair and was grinning wide enough that you'd think Nick bought the present for himself. Heath couldn't press a pang of longing for all the Christmas's that he had missed.
Tipping his head to suppress a smile, Heath opened the gift-wrap with agonizing slowness. Victoria, sensing a conspiracy among Nick's siblings, covered a smile with a daintily placed hand.
Nick could not stand the suspense any longer.
"FOR PETE'S SAKE, HEATH. YOU OPEN A PRESENT SLOWER THAN SISSY KNIPPLEMEYER"S 80-YEAR OLD MAIDEN AUNT HORTENSE."
"Nick, you never told us! You've been sparking Sissy's Aunt Hortense and giving her gifts too?
Jarrod had picked an inopportune time to take a sip of the eggnog. Breathing in at the wrong moment with an involuntary need to laugh, he choked and sputtered. Distracted, Nick walked over to slap his older brother's back on his way to throttle his youngest male sibling.
"Just open the damn present!" Nick growled.
Victoria would have chastised her son for his vulgar language if she could have just cleared her mind of the picture Heath conjured up of Nick courting Hortense Knipplemeyer. Every time she thought of her son sitting on the Knipplemeyer porch wooing Hortense made her breathless with barely suppressed laughter.
Audra and Jarrod were not as thoughtful of Nick's feelings. Audra was doubled over, practically in tears with laughter and between nearly choking and uncontrollable laughter, Jarrod had yet to catch his breath.
Seeing Nick approach, Heath looked up in mock terror and ripped into the present like a hurricane – paper flying everywhere. Uncovered was a beautifully carved case with the Winchester logo. In the center, the entwined letters "H" and "B" were etched into the wood as well. All laughter stilled as Heath traced the "B" with unconscious reverence. Looking up at Nick and holding his gaze, Heath's fingers found the snaps, sprang them open and lifted the lid while his eyes never left his big brother's. All thought of anger gone, Nick tilted his head toward the case and smiled. Heath finally looked down.
In green felt, soft as velvet, lay the most beautiful rifle he had ever set eyes on. Heath picked up a certificate. The document, in elegantly printed type, certified that this firearm was a 1876 Winchester "One of One Thousand." Every Winchester was individually tested for accuracy. Only the most remarkably accurate were labeled "One of One Thousand." Heath recalled an article in the San Francisco Chronicle that said of the thousands of '76's that were made, only ten to date had been called the revered "One of Ten Thousand." The article listed some of the owners as heads of state and barons of industry. And now, one Heath Barkley of Stockton, California, could be added to the list. Heath's hand shook as he held up the certificate and noted that Oliver F. Winchester had personally endorsed the certificate.
Nick saw the certificate shake in Heath's suddenly unsteady hand. Gently, his other hand glided along the intricately detailed barrel and finely grained walnut stock. Nick saw Heath's head shake negatively and knew without a doubt what was coming. Before Heath could protest at the extravagance of the gift, Nick lifted the certificate from Heath's hand, turned it over, placing it back in his brother's open palm.
It read:
"A One of One Thousand from a man who was lucky enough to find a brother who is one in one million. - Nick"
Suddenly all business, Heath hefted the rifle, checked the bolt to assure that it was empty and sighted down the long barrel. Then he stood up and for the first time looked his brother Nick in the eye. With the rifle firmly gripped in his hand, he grabbed Nick in a hug that threatened to crack a couple of ribs.
Quietly, so only his brother could here, Heath said, "It's too much. I don't..."
Equally soft, Nick replied, "It's only as good as the man that holds it. Never sell yourself short within my earshot. I'm not so old that I couldn't knock a little sense into you, boy."
Heath pulled back from his brother's embrace and favored him with a lopsided grin, his aquamarine eyes shining overly bright with suspect moisture.
"Just please tell me that you didn't give one of these beauties to Hortense Knipplemeyer."
Nick grabbed Heath around the back of the neck, yanking him a step closer and grumbled affectionately, "I don't think that I'm the one that is obsessed with Hortense, little brother."
Audra gave both of her crazy brothers a hug and Jarrod got up to get a closer look at the rifle. His mother was looking fondly at all four of them.
Heath blinked a couple times in the darkness and held that picture of his family close to his heart.
Part of him wanted Nick to find him. Ruthlessly Heath squashed what he thought was weakness. Heath was quite sure that there was no one currently on the ranch that had the skills to track him. He owed the Modoc who had given him Gal for his tracking abilities. Heath had little time for ego puffing, boasting or false modesty. He was just that good. Lucky for him that he had also learned just as many ways to evade pursuit as well. Yeah, real lucky.
Another heart, cloaked in darkness, rode not far behind the younger man preoccupied with his fond memories. Rawlston's thoughts mulled over only one problem. With both his prey now separating, how ever was he going to bring them together and not tip his hand? He smiled grimly. They were playing right into his hands. This was almost going to be too easy.
TBC…