Chapter Two. His Right Arm.
Nick didn't speak at dinner. His left eye was already swollen shut with some purple developing around it. The gash on his swollen lip was still bleeding. He took a bite of bread, swallowed it, and rinsed it down with milk. He pushed his chair back and stood.
"I didn't hear you ask to be excused, Nick," Victoria said.
Nick scowled at her the best he could, turned, and strode out.
"I'll have words with him later." Victoria raised her eyebrows and looked at Heath. "Is there anything you'd like to tell us, Heath?"
Heath kept his eyes on his food. "No, ma'am."
"Looks like we're going to have a quiet dinner tonight," she said.
Jarrod smiled. "Kind of nice for a change, isn't it?"
Nick skipped breakfast, but as Heath was entering the stables, Nick was riding out. He stopped and pointed at Heath. "You'd better watch yourself today, boy."
"I figure I'll be too busy watching you," Heath said softly. Fortunately, Nick didn't hear him.
Unfortunately, Nick assigned Heath to work with his crew in dividing a corral into two sections. McColl took a smaller crew to the south pasture to clean up some debris caused by the recent storm.
Heath's nerves were raw. He kept his eyes on Nick at all times. If Nick drew near to him, he jumped. But it wasn't until lunchtime, when all the men gathered round the chuckwagon, that Nick stepped in front of him, then swung around. Heath realized it was a back-hand slap and he wasn't balanced to duck. His instincts kicked in and he slammed his fist into Nick's fast-approaching arm.
He both heard and felt the sickening sound of bones cracking.
Nick fell to his knees, his face contorted in agony. He pulled his arm next to his body.
The range was deathly quiet. Everyone stared at Nick. No one moved. No one spoke. Not even the horses made a sound.
Heath looked at his brother and swallowed the sick feeling climbing his esophagus. This was not a good development. "Anderson, run into town and get Dr. Merar," he ordered. "Perez, go get the carriage. Michaels, go to the house and tell Silas to have ice ready." He dropped down next to Nick and lowered his voice. "I'm sorry, Nick," he said softly. "I didn't mean to do that."
Nick didn't answer. His forearm had already swollen tight against his shirt and beads of sweat formed on his forehead.
"Take it easy. I need to cut your shirt."
"No." Nick tried to push Heath away, but he had no strength left.
"I'll be gentle." Heath pulled out his knife and cut the sleeve of Nick's shirt from the cuff to above the elbow. As he was doing so, he tried to examine the damage. Because of the extreme swelling, he was sure the bones had separated. He tried to get a closer look, but Nick had his arm tight against his chest. "Did the skin break?" Heath asked.
"No," Nick grunted.
"Can I see it?" Heath asked.
"Leave me alone."
"Nick, I need to see it so I know what to do for you."
Nick tried to bite his lip, but that only made it start bleeding again. His face paled.
Heath took out his clean bandana and wadded it up. He sat down in front of Nick and put the bandana in Nick's mouth. "Here. Bite on that."
Nick glared at Heath but accepted the offer.
Heath leaned closer. There was no blood, so he assumed the skin wasn't broken. But the swelling was something like he'd never seen before.
"Need a splint?" Parker asked.
"I don't think we can splint it without causing more damage," Heath said. He took off his neck bandana. It wasn't big enough. "Somebody give me a bandana."
Immediately, someone pushed one into his hands.
"Thanks." Heath tied the two bandanas together to make a sling. "Nick," he said softly. "I need you to let go of your arm for a second so I can put this sling around it."
"No," Nick grunted.
"C'mon, Nick. I know it hurts like the dickens, but we need to get that immobilized before they get back here with the carriage. Please?"
Nick grimaced but slightly moved his arm away from his body.
"Good. Just hold still a minute. I'll be as fast as I can." Heath cradled Nick's arm in the makeshift sling and quickly tied it around his neck.
Nick drew his arm back against his chest.
Heath worked around him to tie the end at his elbow. "Okay, just rest there until the carriage gets here." He patted Nick's shoulder, then faced the men. "I'll need a couple of you to follow the carriage to help get him moved into the house."
"I will," several men offered.
"You and you," Heath said, pointing at Saunders and Myers. "Just follow us on horseback." He then looked around at the smaller group remaining. "The rest of you can go ahead and get some lunch. I probably won't be able to come back out here for a while, so after lunch, just get back to work on getting this fence built. Mitchell, you can take lead until McColl gets over here. And, Casto, would you mind riding over to McColl's group and letting him know what's going on here?"
The men nodded.
Fortunately, they weren't more than a mile from the house, and the carriage was already within sight.
Heath crouched back down in front of Nick. "The carriage is almost here. We need to get you to your feet." Heath stood and looked over the men. Myers was the tallest. "Myers, come over here and support Nick's left side while he tries to stand. I'll support him from the back."
Myers immediately squatted close to Nick's left side and put his arm under Nick's left shoulder.
"Very easy now, on the count of three, we're going to stand him up. Nick, push up with your legs. I'm gonna be behind you, so don't worry about losing your balance. I'll keep you straight. You try to keep your arm from moving." Heath placed one hand on Nick's left shoulder and his right hand on Nick's belt. "Ready, Nick?"
"Yeah."
"One. Two. Three." The three men rose as a single unit. Myers and Heath continued to support Nick once they were upright.
The carriage came to a stop near them.
Dr. Merar took a look at Nick. "Where did he get that black eye and split lip from?"
Heath chewed his lip and stared at the floor. "I hit him."
"When?"
"Yesterday."
Dr. Merar scowled but gently felt Nick's arm. "Definitely broken. And separated. We'll have to set it." He grimaced and looked at Heath. "How did this happen?"
Heath swallowed hard. He glanced at Victoria. "I did it."
"How in God's green earth could you do something like that?" the doctor demanded.
"I hit him."
"Look, I don't have time to pull every word out of you. Tell me everything that happened so I can get a visual on what that bone looks like in there."
Heath kept his eyes lowered. "Nick was turning around, and I saw he was going to backhand me. I didn't have time to duck, so my instincts kicked in and I slugged his arm away."
"Oh, Heath," Victoria said in a voice that was partly scolding and partly compassionate.
"Well, you surely did that. Quite well." Dr. Merar stood next to Heath. "Okay, show me on me—except don't hit me. I'll turn around like you said, and you show how his arm was turned and where you hit him."
As the doctor swung around slowly, Heath turned the doc's arm so his thumb pointed straight up. Then he brought his fist and showed the doctor where he'd hit.
"That's what I thought." He sighed. "We're going to have to set it, but we can't do that until the swelling goes down. Hopefully, that will be tomorrow." He took out a small bottle and a small spoon. "Let's go ahead and get some laudanum in you. That will ease the pain."
"I don't want any," Nick grunted.
Dr. Merar closed his eyes and looked at Mrs. Barkley. "Victoria, how do you manage these stubborn fools?"
"I keep that wooden spoon handy," she said dryly.
The doctor chuckled. "Looks like both of them could use a good dose of your spoon." He turned back to Nick. "Now, look, I'm not going to fight you on this, but you'll rest easier if you're not in such pain. I'll just give you half a dose, which will take the edge off. Okay?"
"Yeah."
Dr. Merar measured out the dose and put the spoon in Nick's mouth. He handed the bottle to Victoria. "He can have this as he needs it. The body will heal better if it's not fighting that pain, so try to make him take at least half a dose every four-to-six hours."
"He will take it," Victoria said.
The doctor patted Nick's shoulder. "You need to keep ice on that arm and keep it elevated higher than your heart. And stay in bed. Don't move it at all. Not at all. Any motion can cause those bones to further separate or even snap off a piece. You understand?"
"Yeah."
"How long?" Nick asked.
"How long until you can use your arm again?"
"Yeah." It was obvious the very act of breathing hurt.
"Probably six to eight weeks. Unless the bone fragmented, in which case we may need to do surgery. I'm hoping that's not the case and everything will fit back together properly when we set it." Dr. Merar looked at Victoria. "I'll be back tomorrow to check on him."
"Thank you, doctor." She showed him to the door.
Victoria returned to Nick's room, where Heath sat penitently next to Nick. Nick sat up in bed, his ice-covered arm resting on a pillow. He looked miserable but wasn't as pale or shaky as earlier.
She looked at Heath. "I don't know what's been going on between you two, but it needs to stop."
"It's his fault," Nick said.
Victoria raised her eyebrow. "I doubt that, Nicholas. But enough is enough. You two are brothers, and this isn't how brothers treat each other."
"Yes, ma'am," Heath said, still watching his hands.
"Nick is going to need a lot of help over the next several weeks." Her glare was on Heath. "And, since you're the one who did this, you will be the one who helps him."
Nick frowned. "Now, wait a minute—"
"It's not up for debate, Nick. Heath is going to serve as your right arm. He's going to cut your food for you, he's going to help you in the bathroom, he's going to sleep in this room to help you when you need it. He's going to be your right arm."
"Mother—"
"Nick, I said this isn't up for debate."
"But the ranch!" Nick spit out. "He needs to be out there."
"McColl can handle the ranch. Heath is going to be next to you. All the time."
Nick growled.
Victoria ignored him and looked at Heath. "Do you understand what your responsibility is?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"The next time you call me 'ma'am,' I'm going to slap you."
"Yes, ma-Mother."
"Good. Heath, you're going to go downstairs and get Nick's lunch, bring it up to him, and help him eat." She paused. "And you can bring your own lunch up here and eat with him."
"Yes, Mother."
"I'll stay here until you get back."
Silas had prepared several sandwiches, cut in half for easy handling. Heath handed one to Nick.
Nick took a healthy bite, then scowled.
"What's wrong?"
"Damn split lip." Nick handed the sandwich back to Heath and grabbed the napkin Heath had put on his chest. He dabbed at the pink mayonnaise that dripped from his still-bleeding lip. He glared at Heath. "You just wait. Once I get back on my feet, you're gonna pay."
"I'm sure I will." Heath sighed. "But just remember, I hit back now."
Nick tried to roll his one open eye, but that, too, hurt. He held out his hand for the sandwich, which Heath gave back to him. He took a small, careful bite and chewed.
Something was bothering Heath. He was still trying to figure out this family and his place in it. Nick was the ranch boss, but Victoria overrode his decision to put Heath back to work. And Nick hadn't argued about it. The day Heath had ridden up to the house looking for work, Nick had said no. But Jarrod overruled his decision there, too. So, Nick was the boss, but it appeared he had both hands tied.
Heath sucked in a deep breath. "Mother said she'd slap me if I called her 'ma'am' again. She wouldn't really, would she?"
Nick grunted. "The heck she wouldn't. And, trust me, that woman can slap as hard as any man."
Heath tried to imagine the diminutive lady slapping anyone. He looked at Nick to see if he was teasing.
Nick took another careful bite and chewed for a moment. "I was arguing with Jarrod a few weeks ago—not long before you showed up—and used some colorful language," he said around chews. "I forgot Mother was in the room—even though she told me to watch my language right before then. Next thing I know, I'm sitting on the floor. I'm seeing stars—actually blinking pink, green, and yellow stars—and I hear birds chirping. My cheek is on fire. For a minute, I thought Jarrod had punched me, but he was still sitting there behind his desk, looking at me with that infuriatingly arrogant grin of his." He took another small bite. "Then I look at Mother. She's glaring at me. And she says, 'I'm waiting.' I got no clue what she's waiting for, so I just look at her. Then Jarrod says, 'Nick, I think you better apologize before you get slapped again.' So, I did." He shuddered slightly at the memory.
Heath wondered about the violence of his new family. His mother had never hit him. Now, his uncle and aunt—that was another story. But never his mother. She had only loved him. But it seemed like this family settled a lot of arguments with a fist or a slap. The best he could tell, Victoria and Jarrod had the final word on everything. Yet, he couldn't deny they seemed to truly care about one another. It was a conundrum he needed to think about.
"Take those away now," Nick said, shooing away the sandwich Heath held out for him. "I'm done."
"You didn't eat much."
Nick's eyebrow raised. "I said I'm done."
Heath set the tray aside and handed a water glass to Nick. "Take a drink."
"Don't tell me what to do."
"Nick, c'mon now. The doc said we need to keep fluids in you."
Nick took the water glass in his left hand, then threw it across the room. It shattered as it hit the dresser.
Heath stared at him.
"Now, leave me alone," Nick growled.
"Sure wish I could," Heath mumbled. He cleaned up the mess, then faced Nick. "Don't try that again."
"Go away."
Heath rolled his eyes. He knew this job wasn't going to be easy, but it had only been a couple of hours and he was already ready to strangle Nick. Heath sat in the chair and silently ate his own lunch.
Dinner didn't go much better. Nick didn't want to eat. Heath refused to let him hold his own coffee cup, which further incited Nick's wrath.
"You're not throwing hot coffee," Heath said sternly.
"I'm not a two-year-old."
"Then stop acting like one and eat." Heath succeeded in getting a couple of bites of spaghetti into Nick, but the tomato sauce burned his lip and he refused more. Heath dipped a napkin in the water bowl and gently wiped the sauce off Nick's lip.
Nick started to holler, but then stopped and leaned back into the pillows. "Thank you," he said meekly.
Victoria checked in on the two men after supper. Nick was sleeping. Heath leaned against the wall. "Why don't you bring that chaise lounge that's in my room in here? Then you can lie down and still be close to him."
"I'm fine," Heath said.
"I said, go bring that chaise lounge in here." She gave him the "do as you're told and don't argue" look.
"Yes, ma-Mother." As he walked out of the room, he felt like a whipped boy. No wonder Nick was rebellious. But Heath wasn't going to cross Mother. At least, not yet.
Victoria followed him and insisted on carrying the lighter end of the burgundy velvet. Once they pushed it through the door, she brought linens, blankets, and pillows, and helped Heath make the lounge suitable for sleeping. "I'm sorry this is so feminine looking."
Heath chuckled. "I hadn't noticed." He was accustomed to second-hand furniture and being happy with what he had. The way it looked didn't matter.
"This was the longest one we could find, but the bench is still only six feet. So, you're probably too tall to spread out, but we can move a table over here for your feet."
"I'll be fine."
"Heath . . . ."
"Mother, I'm used to sleeping out on the hard ground wherever I can find a spot. Believe me, I can easily sleep on this and be quite comfortable." Would Mother think he was arguing with her? Heath took a quick step back.
"You're sure?"
"Yes'm. I mean, Mother." He gave her an apologetic half-smile.
She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight, then kissed his cheek. "Good night, Heath. Please, wake me if you have any problems."
Heath stared after her. She did scare the living crap out of him. But she also soothed him, calmed him. She made him feel loved, wanted. He shrugged. Yes, she was a conundrum. This entire family was—what was the word Jarrod had used? An enigma. A puzzle. But he had promised Jarrod he'd stay here for at least one month. And he would. He never broke his promises. So, he'd live here and get to know these people for at least a month—if he survived that long.