Outside, the cloudburst had ceased. The sun was emerging from behind the dispersing dark clouds and began shining on a field mantled by glistening pearl drops. The torrential rain had faded into a thin haze that swathed the valley.
An hour had elapsed since Heath’s passing. While Jarrod and Victoria were sombrely helping Dr. Merar preparing the deceased’s corpse for its journey to the undertaker, Nick withdrew to the living room in a futile attempt to escape the reality of it all.
The grieving brother stood doleful by the window, staring leaden-eyed at the sheen of morning dew. One hand resting on the window frame and swirling his fifth shot of whiskey in a glass with the other. His mind was dulled and his body sluggish. He had lapsed into a state of stupor.
A dainty bluetit perched itself on the windowsill. The twitchy bird observed the despondent man through the pane of glass. Nick eyed it back, astonished by its pure ocean-blue feathers. Its twitter played like a soft melody, evoking a contrived smile out of the sullen man and imbuing him with a fleeting sense of felicity. Nick beheld the songster that appeared to be the bearer of a cryptic message.
Shrouded in gloom, Jarrod straggled down the grand staircase. The vibration of his unsteady gait frightened the bird away. Nick followed its flight until it disappeared from view.
“Are you alright?” asked Jarrod.
“What kind of dumb question is that?” Nick scoffed contemptibly.
.
“Sorry, bad choice of words. I meant, how are you holding up?”
“Well, I’m holding this!” Nick gestured, raising his glass.
Nick swigged down his whiskey and walked over to the bar to fill it to the rim. As he grabbed the liquor jug, Jarrod seized his arm. Nick lowered at him. Undisturbed by his brother’s glare, Jarrod wrested the bottle from Nick’s grip and poured himself a tumblerful
“Mind if I join you?” Jarrod asked nonchalantly, pouring whiskey into Nick’s glass.
Nick quaffed his liquor. He stood still, staring at the empty glass tightly clenched in his hand, striving to suppress the raging torrent seething within him. Without warning, he hurled the glass into the fireplace. The sudden spate jolted Jarrod out of dropping his glass onto the floor.
“Dammit! Why couldn’t I’ve got to them sooner? Why? Why?” he clamoured, tears rushing to his eyes.
“Wait as second...I hope you’re not shouldering the blame for what happened? If anything, you should be commended.”
A guilt-ridden Nick stared in disgust at Jarrod and scorned, “Commended???”
“For averting the slaying of your family. Mother said that had we not reached them when we did, they likely would have killed them all.” Jarrod explained. He walked over to Nick and gave his arm a light squeeze. “Nick, it was your nightmare that saved them.”
Nick wrenched his arm free from Jarrod’s grasp and glowered at him. “Heath is dead!” he roared, baring his teeth. “The boy agonized for over two days. All I did was bring him home to die.”
“It’s a more dignified death than curled up in a puddle of blood. He died honorably, surrounded by a family who loved him.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Nick lashed out at Jarrod. “ Spare me the pep talks, please!”
“For God’s sake, Nick...you’re not the only one who’s grieving here!”
“I’m sorry, Jarrod,” Nick apologized remorsefully, burying his face in his hands.
Jarrod laid a comforting hand on his bereaved brother’s shoulder. Nick combed his hair back with his fingers and wiped his eyes dry with the palms of his hands. He then crossed the room to the front door.
“Where are you going?” asked a concerned Jarrod.
“Out,” Nick motioned with a trembling hand. “I need to get out of here.”
“Nick, we’re about ready to bring Heath’s body to the undertaker.”
“You handle it, Jarrod. I can’t. I just can’t.”
Nick walked out of the house. At that moment, a weary Victoria climbed down the stairs.
“Was that Nick?” she asked.
“Yeah. He’s not making the trip with us.”
“I won’t be joining you either. Audra’s fast asleep but just in case she should awake, I don’t want her to find everyone gone.”
“I understand.”
“I have asked Ciego to accompany you and Dr. Merar. I will ride into Stockton this afternoon to see to the arrangements.”
“Okay.”
“While you’re in town, be sure to send a telegram to Eugene. Ask him if he can be present at the funeral.”
“I will.” Jarrod kissed Victoria on the cheek. “Are you going to be fine?”
She felt her throat constrict. She tried to speak but no word would come out. She simply nodded and patted Jarrod’s back.
“Mother, let it out.”
“I can’t, Jarrod,” she quavered, gulping back her emotions. “ Not now.”
Jarrod clinched Victoria in a warm embrace. When they disengaged, the man detected a tiny teardrop escaping the corner of his mother’s eye.
Jarrod climbed upstairs to assist Ciego and Dr. Merar in hauling the corpse onto the buckboard outside.
Victoria walked to the living room. She noticed the smear on the rug where Jarrod had spilled his drink. Pieces of broken glass were scattered everywhere. She bent down and began picking up the large fragments. Insensitive to pain, she didn’t flinch when she inadvertently cut her finger on one. She continued collecting the pieces until a few dabs of blood started dripping onto the floor. Flashbacks of the horrendous past hours whirled in her head. She abruptly dropped the glass she had gathered in her hands and fled the room.
She went upstairs to check on Audra. She smiled contentedly at the sight of her overwrought daughter lost in a laudanum-induced sleep. She padded across the room to her bed and gingerly raised the quilt up to Audra’s shoulders. She leaned forward and gently kissed her on the forehead. After gazing at her precious girl, Victoria slipped away quietly.
Nick had retreated to the barn to blow out some steam. He tethered the black stallion that he and Heath had been bickering over in the aisle and began currying his shiny coat. Not satisfied with the results, Nick obstinate in grooming the horse a second time, then a third until the animal complained by stomping his right hind hoof.
Nick stopped. He went to the horse’s head and wrapped his arm around his neck. “I’m sorry, boy,” he repented, petting the animal. “Your owner would skin me alive if he knew what I was submitting you through.”
Nick noticed a tiny knot in the stallion’s mane and began fumbling with it. “ I can’t keep you here. You don’t belong to me.”
Nick managed to unfasten the knot and brushed the mane with the currycomb. “You’re a darned fine animal.”
He paused and wondered at the high-spirited animal, pondering whether to turn him loose into the wild. He sighed in resignation and untied the horse. He grabbed him by his bridle and steered him out of the stables.
Outside, Nick swung open the corral gate and removed the halter.
“Go!” he howled, slapping the animal on the croup.
Nick watched the stallion scurry off into the hills before he wandered back to the barn. Weakened and gnawed by grief, he slumped his back against a beam, eyes roving around, seeking retribution on an inanimate object. His heart was thumping and his breathing was erratic. He repeatedly thwacked his head against the firm wooden bar in an effort to contain his rancour.
Settled in a nearby stall, Charger snorted, which momentarily drew Nick out of his torpor. He slouched up to Heath’s cherished horse and began patting him.
“I’m going to miss him,” Nick confessed to the fidgety animal, restlessly stamping his hooves. “ What’s the matter, boy? You know...don’t you?”
Charger grew more agitated, neighing and kicking in his stall.
“What’s wrong, Charger?” Concerned, Nick gave the horse a cursory examination.
The animal kicked open the gate and stormed out of the stables.
“Charger, come back!”
Nick tried to whistle him back but to no avail. He whisked to Coco in the next stall, bridled him, and swung on his bare back before hightailing it after the runaway horse.
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