Nick finished stuffing his neckerchief into the hole in his brother's shoulder and looked around desperately. What to do now? He couldn't put the boy down because Heath couldn't breathe lying down, but he couldn't sit here holding him. He had to be doing something. He just didn't know what.
He looked over at Barrett. He shouldn't have hit the man so hard. Well he admitted to himself he should have stopped hitting the man when he stopped hitting back. But he had been so angry when he saw that man sitting on top of Heath, slamming punches down on his unmoving brother. He thought he might have killed that man with his punches if he hadn't been so anxious to get over to Heath. The other man, the bushwhacker, was dead. He'd shot him twice in the chest when the man stood up to get a better shot at Heath.
What a mess. He shifted his hold on Heath until he could get to his knees. Then he carefully lifted the too-light body and carried it over to one of the many downed cottonwood logs. He sat his brother near the log with his back leaning against it to keep him upright. As soon as he started to let him go and leave, he felt the grip his brother still had on his sleeve. He looked at the work-worn hand clutching tightly to his shirt. Using his free hand, he carefully leaned his brother's head against the log and then slowly worked his fingers free of their grip. Then he held the hand for a moment and looked at his brother's face.
He looked so young, his eyes closed, just lying there against that dead tree. He touched Heath's face gently, the face of this miracle of a brother come suddenly fully formed into his life. He smiled at Heath even though he knew he couldn't see the smile.
"Don't worry, big brother's going to take care of this." He wished he felt as confident as he sounded but it was his job to take care of his little brother and he'd take care of him if it was the last thing he ever did.
He looked at the wound on Heath's shoulder. The bleeding had slowed. He looked at the back of his shirt and saw the blood there so the bullet had gone through his shoulder. He didn't think the bullet wound was the main problem. He thought it was probably the beating Barrett had given him. That those fists pounding into Heath's unresisting body had so damaged his already broken ribs that the boy could hardly breathe.
They were twenty miles from the ranch, on a walking horse four hours and some. He could hold his brother in the saddle but four hours sitting on a horse, hardly able to breathe, he feared it would kill Heath. This was the beginning of the ranch's high pastures. There were no other ranches any closer than theirs. He swore softly to himself. He couldn't leave Heath out here. He would have to try and get him on a horse and have him ride for, well admit it, the condition the boy was in, five hours.
He gently pushed Heath's hair away from his forehead and held his hand on his face for a moment. "I'm going to go get the horses, boy. I'll be right back. You wait here and we'll head home."
He found all of the horses down at the lake, drinking and beginning to browse in the rich green grass. The mares were already moving away from the saddle horses and he ignored them for the time being. He caught up the horse with the dead man on him and cut the man off and laid him on the ground. He removed the horse's saddle and bridle and let the horse go, keeping the bridle and leaving the saddle.
He climbed up on Coco, caught the mares' by their lead lines one at a time and removed their ropes to let them loose. He could see Shot-In-The-Arm from the last fight a hundred yards from the lake, struggling with his horse. He'd apparently tried to turn his horse from the lake to make a run for it and the bridle had come off. He smiled at his brother and his cut reins and unbuckled throatlatches. Clever boy, not his first trip to the circus he thought, and then wondered where Heath had learned so much about handling fugitives.
He rode over to the man he'd killed and looked down at him from the saddle, not bothering to dismount. Then he rode another hundred yards into the brush and found the man's horse. He removed the horse's saddle and bridle and let him go as well. On his way back, he stopped and put the bridle from the other horse on the wounded man's horse and smiling, cut one rein off and unbuckled the throatlatch. Then keeping the other rein, he pulled the horse along with him. He stopped, picked up the reins from Barrett's horse and Heath's little mare and led them over to where Barrett lay still unmoving on the ground.
He climbed down and used his foot to roll Barrett over on to his back. No good bushwhacker. Take his pay and then try and kill my brother. He took the canteen off Barrett's horse and poured most of the contents over Barrett's face. He kept pouring as the man sputtered and regained consciousness, quietly swearing at the man all the while.
Once Barrett had enough awareness to move his head out of the stream of water, he grabbed him by his arm and hauled him to his feet. "Get on the horse, Barrett. You dead or alive, it's all the same to me." He was so angry with this man he was almost shaking with it. Barrett, as unsteady as he was from the beating, read the danger in Nick with no difficulty and did everything he could to help Nick haul his sorry carcase up on the horse. He cut the rein and unbuckled the throatlatch. He guessed he'd never unbuckle another throatlatch without thinking about his brother. Leading Coco, Gal and the two outlaw's horses, he walked back to Heath as fast as he could without pulling the bridles off the horses.
He knelt down beside him, gently put his hand on the side of Heath's face and pulled his head up a bit. "Heath?"
No response. He handed the reins of Heath's horse to Barrett. "You lead this mare. You drop these reins, you try and get away, you do anything I don't like and I will kill you." He was amazed how calm he sounded. He'd thought his voice would be shaking with the fury he couldn't seem to move away from. Barrett took the reins, not looking at him.
He went quickly through his saddlebags on Coco and found a clean bandanna. Wetting it from his canteen, he wiped the dirt and blood from Heath's face and then checked the wound again. It wasn't bleeding. He took the wet bandanna and used it to hold the other neckerchief he'd put in the shoulder wound earlier in place.
He walked over to his two prisoners and made sure they each had their one rein in their hands and were ready to ride. "I'm going to pick up my brother and get him in this saddle and we're riding back to the ranch. So help me, either of you does anything to catch my attention, I will kill you. The way I'm feeling right now it would be a pleasure."
Wisely both men remained silent. He knelt down and picked up Heath like the boy he was, walked over to Coco and lifted the boy into the saddle. It was a little tricky getting his off leg over the saddle and he had to tip Heath quite a ways onto Coco's back to get it done. He could hear the boy struggling to breathe as he tipped him back. There was something wrong in the boy's breathing. He could stuff a bandage in a bullet hole. If he needed to he could dig out a bullet and cauterize the wound, but something like this, something wrong with a man's insides… He didn't know. He needed to get him home.
They rode due south away from the lake, heading to catch the road about ten miles south of where they'd left it earlier that day, skirting the hills when they could, going over them when they couldn't. Heath lay limply against his chest, struggling for each breath. He was surprised when the boy spoke to him. He'd thought he was unconscious. "My … horse?"
"Don't worry, boy. She's right here behind us." He felt Heath's head nod against his chest. "You want a drink?"
It was so long before Heath answered he thought he'd passed out again. "Yeah."
Nick pulled his horse up and reached in front of Heath fumbling with the canteen strap he couldn't see. "Hey, you… getting fresh?" Heath said as he fumbled between his legs for the strap.
Nick began to laugh, carefully keeping one arm around Heath so he didn't jar him. He finally managed to get the canteen loose. "You're not my type."
"Been on the… trail … a while."
"Going to take longer than three days on the trail before I'm making a pass at you." So saying, Nick gently rested his cheek on top of the boy's head for a moment, his brother's head.
"Okay then," Heath said and he thought that he felt a change in the rhythm of that difficult breathing that was perhaps a soft laugh.
He held the canteen up for Heath and watched as the boy struggled to swallow and breathe.
"Now I'm putting this strap back on the saddle here, try not to get too excited."
"Oh guess… I can resist… you a mite longer."
Shaking his head and smiling, he moved Coco on again. Maybe this would be all right. Maybe, in spite of everything, this would turn out just perfect.
An hour later they hit the main road to Stockton and twenty minutes after that Jarrod and four ranch hands rode up at a fast canter.
The horses were all pulled up and then they walked a few feet off the trail to get out of the dust.
"What happened? You okay?" Jarrod was beside him, his hand on Heath's arm.
"Yeah, I'm good. Thanks to Heath here. He's hurt, Jarrod. There's something wrong with his breathing." Nick was so glad to see his big brother. Not that he thought Jarrod was any better a doctor than he was, but just knowing that he was there, helped make the weight of his decisions lighter.
"What's going on with these two?" Jarrod asked, bending down in the saddle to look in Heath's face tipped down as it was, Heath's chin resting on Nick's supporting arm.
"Bushwhacked us up by Horse Lake," Nick said, shifting his seat in the saddle slightly. Riding on the cantle and his bedroll was killing him; he'd be lucky to still be able to walk by the time they got back to the ranch.
"Dice, you and Sandy take these two into the sheriff in Stockton. Tell him we'll be in to see him tomorrow," Jarrod instructed two of the hands. "Andy, take Heath's mare."
While the hands were sorting out the riders and horses, Jarrod turned back to Nick. "You want me to take him for a while? You must be getting pretty tired."
"I don't want to move him, Jarrod. He's shot, don't want to start him bleeding."
"Pete, you ride into town get Dr. Merar. Tell him to meet us at the ranch. Tell him what you've heard here," Jarrod ordered.
Pete Kelly touched the brim of his hat and spurred his horse away. Nick, Jarrod and Andy Pettit, the remaining hand, turned their horses back to the road and continued south.
"What are you doing here?" Nick asked his brother.
"Russian Peter came to see me this morning. Said there was talk that some of the railroad gunmen from Sample's were asking around town about where you were." Jarrod pulled his horse down to a slower walk to keep pace with Coco. "You sure about holding him? I can take your horse. We don't need to move him."
"It's okay. My butt's pretty numb by now."
"Did he say… he was… a numb butt?" Heath asked softly.
"You mind your manners, boy, when your elders are speaking," he admonished Heath, stroking the side of the boy's face. "You want some more water?"
"No… That Jarrod?"
"Yeah, Heath, I'm right here. Just caught up to you boys."
"Missed… the fun." The wheezing as Heath spoke clearly audible to both men. They exchanged troubled looks above the boy's head.
"We're talking, you be still now. Let your elders decide what to do," Nick admonished again gently. "Save your energy, boy. Just keep breathing. Don't suddenly start talking now. I been trying to get this boy to talk to me for best part of a week and now he starts, can't hardly shut him up," he said to Jarrod, keeping his tone light for the boy's sake but allowing Jarrod to see his worry.
"We'll be home in two hours." Jarrod leaned over and fiddled with his bedroll, pulling out his blanket and, riding beside Nick, he draped it over Heath.
"Not a minute too soon. So what are you doing out here riding to the rescue? A little late I might add," Nick growled, shifting his hold on Heath a little, thinking how good it felt to hold this boy this way, wondering when he started feeling the same way about this new brother that he felt about the rest of his family. How could that have happened so quickly?
"I wasn't too worried. I didn't think anyone knew where you were. But then when McCall told me that Barrett had been seen in town with some of Jordon's men and then Barrett disappeared... Well, I thought, perhaps we had better come and find you," Jarrod explained.
"But why would they come after me? Why not you?" Nick asked, not understanding why anyone would consider he was more of a danger to the railroad than his brother.
"I think they figure they can fight me in the courts. You were the first one to step up to help Sample. I guess they thought with me tied up fighting in Sacramento and you out of the picture, they would have a free run at the farmers." The two brothers exchanged looks as they remembered the last time a Barkley had been the first to stand with the local farmers and the railroad had arranged the assassination of their father.
"Heath thought someone was trailing us. I just didn't think…" Nick remembered that ravine through the hills and what would have happened had the four gunmen gotten the drop on them going into that ravine, if Heath hadn't refused to ride into there, hadn't felt the trap. "I think they've been trailing us since yesterday."
"Yeah, that sounds about right," Jarrod agreed. "Barrett never came to work yesterday."
"Yeah, Barrett. He nearly killed Heath." He remembered again looking across the clearing, seeing Barrett beating on his brother. Running toward the two of them, yelling at Barrett to stop and the man just hitting and hitting, Heath making no move as the blows fell on him. He rested the side of his face on the top of the boy's head again for a moment.
"You gettin'… fresh agin… Barkley?"
"See what I been putting up with this trip," Nick said to Jarrod, grimacing dramatically.
Jarrod laughed good-naturedly and reached across between the two horses to gently lay his hand on Heath's arm. "Don't worry, Heath. I'll keep an eye on him, protect your virtue." Nick felt Heath shaking against him and for a moment was afraid the boy was going into shock before he realized he was laughing.
"Take it easy there, boy," Nick said, but he was too late. Heath's quiet chuckles had turned into coughs and in a moment he was doubled up over Nick's arm, coughing uncontrollably.
Nick pulled his horse up, leaned back in the saddle and tried to pull Heath back up into a sitting position. "Take it easy. Just breathe through it." Nick quickly dismounted and with Jarrod's help, pulled Heath out of the saddle, holding him against his chest as he carefully settled him to the ground, trying to keep him upright. Jarrod was down beside him with his canteen in a moment.
"Heath, can you drink this?" Jarrod asked, holding the canteen in front him.
Still coughing, he shook his hand 'no.' Nick held Heath gently keeping him sitting up while he coughed, Heath's good arm wrapped around his stomach.
"Should you lay him down?"
"No, he does better sitting up."
"Nick?" Jarrod said, seeing the blood on Heath's lips. Then not saying anything else, he took a clean handkerchief, gently wiped his brother's face and showed it to Nick before he folded it and returned it to his pocket. After what seemed forever, Heath managed to catch his breath and stopped coughing. Jarrod offered him the canteen again and Heath took a small swallow of the water.
"You okay to go on?" he asked.
Heath nodded his head tiredly. "Okay then, no more fooling around, boys. Let's just get Heath home and save the jokes for later." He could hear the anxiety behind Jarrod's attempt at levity and exchanged a worried look with him.
"Give me a hand here, Pappy." Nick stood up, lifting Heath gently in his arms, while Jarrod grabbed his legs and got him back up on Coco. Jarrod stood on the ground for a moment with his hand resting on Heath's leg, looking up at Nick.
"We need to hurry, Nick."