Chapter Six. Jarrod Eats Crow.

At dinner Wednesday night, Nick couldn't contain his excitement. "You shoulda seen it! Heath saddled and rode that wild stallion like it was a pony! First time he'd ever had a saddle on him."

"Um-hmmm," Jarrod said, leaning back in his chair. "Now, how do you know this was actually a wild stallion?"

Nick rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Jarrod! If you can't tell a wild stallion from a domesticated one, you shouldn't be a rancher!"

"Did it ever occur to you that this stallion might just be a feral horse?"

Nick threw his napkin on his plate. "You are insufferable!" He stormed out of room.

"He's the most short-tempered man I've ever met," Jarrod said with a smirk.

Heath wiped his mouth. "Well, Jarrod, why don't you come out and ride Charger?"

"I think I'll do that! Let me change my clothes."

Heath ran up the backstairs as Jarrod went around to the front. He tapped on Nick's door.

"Just go away!"

Heath opened the door.

"I said—"

"Nick, you're gonna wanna see this."

"See what?"

"I goaded Jarrod into taking Charger for a ride."

Nick stared at Heath. He slowly grinned. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yep. He's changing his clothes."

Nick slapped Heath on the back. "What's that you say? Boy howdy. Well, boy howdy, this is a sight I wanna see." He paused and stared at Heath. "You know, boy, sometimes you're just plain evil, you know that?"

"Sometimes," Heath agreed. He and Nick went to the corral.

Charger immediately went to Heath. Heath nuzzled his neck. "Our big brother is coming out here to see you. He doesn't believe you're a wild horse. D'ya think you can show him?"

Charger whinnied, throwing his neck back.

"He's an arrogant sort, but he's not really a bad guy. So don't hurt him, okay?"

Charger bucked.

Heath laughed. He turned to Nick. "Do you think I should get the saddle? Let Jarrod saddle him?"

"You mean, let Jarrod try to saddle him?"

"That's exactly what I mean, big brother. Exactly."

"Go ahead."

Heath ran to the stable and got his saddle. He was carrying it back to the corral when Jarrod walked up to him.

"Are you going to saddle him?" Jarrod asked.

"I thought you might want to," Heath answered innocently.

"Sure. I can do that."

Heath put the saddle on the fence, then climbed up and sat on top of the fence.

Jarrod also climbed on the fence, about eight feet from Heath, and sat on the top rail.

Charger bucked a couple of times, then galloped straight to where Jarrod sat. He charged Jarrod, rearing up immediately in front of him. Jarrod fell backwards off the fence.

Heath snickered, but Nick laughed out loud. "Those domesticated horses are pretty tame, ain't they?"

Jarrod groaned and struggled to his feet, dusting himself off.

"Go ahead and saddle him," Nick challenged.

Charger trotted through the corral, snorting and giving an occasional rear or buck.

"No, thanks," Jarrod said. "Methinks the part of the story you exaggerated is that Heath rides that demon. He's definitely a wild animal."

"Jarrod, go stand over by that tree—and stay there," Heath said.

Nick remained leaning on the fence.

Heath jumped into the corral. "It's okay, Charger. Here, I brought you a carrot." He held out the treat.

Charger walked up to Heath and took the treat. Heath rubbed the horse's ears. "Good boy. Good job. Will you let me ride you? Put the saddle on? That arrogant lawyer doesn't think you can be ridden. Want to prove him wrong?"

Charger whinnied.

Heath went to the saddle, and Charger followed. Heath rubbed the horse, then put the saddle blanket over him. Continuing to talk quietly, Heath picked up the saddle. "You sure this is okay with you, Charger?"

He whinnied again.

Heath lifted the saddle over the horse's back, then, continuing to speak to him quietly, tightened the cinches. "Is it okay if I get on?" he asked.

The horse whinnied again.

"Good boy." Heath jumped onto the horse in a single motion. He petted the horse's neck. "Good boy. You want to go for just a short ride? It's getting late, but we need to show that attorney that he's the problem, not you."

Charger trotted around the perimeter of the corral, then sped up to a canter. "That's good, boy. That's good. I don't have any reins, so we don't have to go faster, okay? You showed him but good. Let's go back to the gate and get this saddle off you."

Charger cantered for one more rotation and then slowed, walked to the gate, and stood still. Heath dismounted, then gave the horse an apple. Heath turned toward Jarrod. "Sure you don't want to try him?"

"No." Jarrod didn't move from the tree.

Heath took the saddle off Charger, rubbed him and brushed him, all while talking quietly to him.

Nick strode over to Jarred. "I told you, big brother. I told you!"

Jarrod let out a deep breath. "That you did. And now I believe you."

"I should've made a bet with you." He and Nick went back to the house while Heath spent a bit more time with Charger before putting away the equipment.

After he returned to the stables, Heath visited Gal and gave her some treats and love. "You know, Gal, it's too bad people aren't as human as animals."

Gal nuzzled him.

On Thursday, Nick sat on his bed, looking at Heath. "Tomorrow night, we're going out."

"Are we now?" Heath asked with a slight smile.

"Yes, we are. I don't give a damn what that doctor says. I need to get out and let off a little steam before I explode."

"Yeah, that's all we need. You letting off 'a little steam.'"

"There's nothing wrong with that!"

"No. Not as long as you don't end up in jail."

Nick chuckled. "Nothing wrong with ending up in jail once in a while."

Heath stared at him. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah. The worst part of being in jail is Jarrod coming to bail you out." Nick smiled. "He can be the most arrogant ass you've ever seen. He pokes out that chest of his and puffs on that cigar with his pinkie in the air like he was holding some fine China, and then he gets that look of superiority all over his face. 'Well, well, well. What have we here?" he might say. Or, he might say, 'I should just leave you in here a while.' And then he expects me to grovel. Damn, he can be one arrogant cuss."

"Jarrod always bails you out?"

Nick nodded. "Usually. Unless he's out of town or something. McColl bailed me out a few times. He never said anything, but I could just feel his disappointment. Really takes the fun out of it." He shrugged. "Yeah, I'll take Jarrod and his arrogance."

Heath stared at his brother, his mouth open. "How many times have you been in jail?"

Nick tossed his left hand in the air. "I don't know. Probably once every month or two since I was old enough to go into town and drink. Probably all told, close to a hundred times."

"A hundred times!" Heath was beyond words. He kept shaking his head.

Nick grinned. "Yeah. Fred said he was gonna just give me my own cell."

"Nick, imagine if you were on your own. If you didn't have a rich daddy or a big shot big brother. Imagine if there was no one to bail you out."

Nick's brow wrinkled. "Guess I'd just stay there until they let me out."

"You know that's usually thirty days, right? What if there were other people depending on you? What if your mother had nuttin' to eat if you didn't provide it? What if your mother could actually die 'cause you decided to 'blow off some steam'? Would you think twice?"

"That would never happen. My mother can fend for herself. And there are plenty of people who can help her out."

"Nick, not everyone is in that position. My mother worked as hard as she could—harder than she could—which put her in an early grave—to pay the rent and put a little food on the table. But she could never make enough. From the time I was six, I was working. And, if I 'blew off steam' and spent a month in the slammer, then my mother would lose her home and have nothing to eat. She could literally die."

"Surely, there were people around—"

"Mother was the town pariah. Because she made a stupid mistake twenty-three years ago, no one would speak to her—except to spit epithets at her. No one cared if she lived or died."

Nick stared at Heath. "You have got to be exaggerating."

"No, Nick, I am not. I was young—maybe eleven or twelve—and someone—a man in his twenties—called my mother a whore. I went after him, and I beat the living crap out of him." Heath sucked in a deep breath. "And then I was arrested." He released his breath. "I knew no one could—or would—bail me out. I wasn't worried about myself. They give you food when you're in jail. But who was gonna shoot a rabbit or fish some trout for Mama? How would Mama pay the rent if I wasn't working?"

"What happened?"

"I was in there for three days when the sheriff took pity on me. I was just a kid, after all. So, he gave me a stern talking to and I promised I'd never throw the first punch again, and he let me out."

"Was that the only time you were in jail?"

"No. It was the only time I threw the first punch, though. I kept my promise to the sheriff—and I still keep that promise. I won't throw a punch except in self-defense or in defense of someone else."

"Which is why you antagonized me—"

"Hey, you can put up your own damn horse. I'm not your servant."

Nick scowled. "You said you didn't mind."

"And I don't. But what I do mind is the expectation that it's now my job. That I'm supposed to clean up after you." He cast a glare at his brother. "That I don't even get a thank you for the effort."

Nick tipped his head back. "Yeah. I can see how that could annoy you." His eyebrow darted up. "But I am your boss."

"Only on the range. Not here."

Nick nodded slightly. "So, how many other times were you in jail?"

"Only once."

"Once!"

Heath nodded.

"And?"

Heath shrugged. "It was a couple of years ago. It was a Friday night and all us hands was in town. You know how it is."

"Oh, yeah. Wish I was there now."

"And this one dude from a different ranch kept harassing a barmaid. He'd grab her and say lewd things to her. Then he forced her against the wall and was taking liberties with her. So, I went over, pecked him on the shoulder, and, when he turned around, I laid him out."

"Can't say I'd blame you. I would've too."

"Should've been the end of it, but he had friends. They came over and laid into me. So, my fellow workers jumped into the fray and, well, we tore up the barroom. Sheriff came in and broke it up. He wanted to know who threw the first punch, and I admitted I had and tried to explain. He didn't care why. He just hauled my ass off to jail."

"Didn't the ranch foreman bail you out?"

"Nope. They had a standing policy that if you got in jail, you lost your job. No exceptions. So, I spent thirty days in there. Thirty days without a way to send money home to Mama. Thirty days, and no job when I got out. Now, ask me again why I don't throw the first punch."

"I still can't believe you've only been in jail twice."

"Nick, when you grow up poor, you learn to think before you act. You don't just do something because you feel like it. You consider the repercussions of your actions, and you consider if those repercussions are worth the action."

Nick scowled. "I'm not sure I buy that. You fight too damn good to be that passive."

"I learned to fight when I was really young. When you're the town bastard, you're fair game for anyone to pound on you. I really liked school, but the bullies didn't want me there. So, I learned to run faster than the older boys, and I learned to take up for myself, and I learned to hit harder than I got hit. And, I never said I avoid fighting. I just said I consider the repercussions before doing it. If it's worth it, then I'm in. All in."

Nick considered. "So, if you're at the bar and someone calls you a name, you just smile and go on about your day?"

"Absolutely. Being called a name ain't fight-worthy."

"Say someone just kind of bumps into you and gets in your face a couple of times. Do you just ignore that?"

"Shore."

"What if they say something nasty about your mama?"

Heath sucked in a deep breath. "That's harder to take. My temper flares immediately. But I still consider the situation before I act."

"Ha! Well, evidently, your temper is a lot calmer than my temper!"

"Nope. I've just learned to control it." Heath raised his eyebrows. "Which would be wise for you to do as well."

Nick shook his head.

"It's a choice, Nick. If you hadn't grown up protected and pampered—"

"Protected and pampered? I've worked my butt off my entire life!"

"I didn't say you didn't. I just said you've always had your daddy's money to cushion your life. If you'd grown up the way I did, you would've learned to control yourself better." Heath shrugged. "Or you'd be dead by now."

"Can you come a little closer so I can punch you?"

"Not unless you want punched back. With interest." Heath paced the room. "C'mon. Let's get out to the corral."

Nick laughed. "Yeah, I owe Charger some sugar this morning. I can't remember when Jarrod last ate that much crow."