Jarrod floated out of his bedroom and gestured Nick to tone down.

“Shhhhhhhhh, you’ll wake Mother.”

“She’s not up yet?”

“No. Audra had a rough night and she stayed up with her.”

“That’s nasty cold still got a grip on her.”

“Not anymore, apparently. She just went out for a walk.”

“Should she be up so soon?”

“Perhaps not but try and reason with that mulish head of hers.”

“Point taken. Are you ready?”

“Just about. Five more minutes.”

“Fine. I’ll be in the dining room.”

Nick walked past Victoria’s bedroom just as she was coming out in her nightrobe.

“Good morning, Mother.”

“Boys, why didn’t you wake me up?” she griped while tightening the strap around her waist.

“After you spent half the night nursing Audra back to health? I don’t think so.”

”I wanted to prepare you a nourishing breakfast before you left for the train station.”

“Very kind of you but Silas already took care of it. He even rustled up a few provisions for our trip.”

“You boys have everything ready?”

“All except the slowpoke,” he accentuated loudly, “down the hall!”

“I’ll go check on Audra.”

“Don’t bother. Jarrod told me she went out for a stroll.”

“She needs to stay in her bed until Doctor Merar can examine her. You go find her and bring her back here at once!” Victoria commanded steadfastly.

“Me? What if she refuses?”

“Then you will pick her up by the waist and carry her over your shoulders.”

“You realize you’re sending me on a suicide mission. She’s liable to gouge my eyes out!”

“You’re a big boy, no doubt you can handle your sister’s temper,” she motivated, patting Nick on the back.

“Okay”, Nick grunted before lumbering downstairs.

Audra walked the grounds, taking cleansing breaths along the way. With a runny nose and a head still in a light daze, she felt relieved to be out walking after being bedridden for seven straight days.

Her aimless sauntering led her to the stables where Heath was currycombing his horse in the stall.

“Hi!”

“Audra, what are you doing out of bed?”

“I’m tired of being cooped up.”

“I can understand that.” He brushed his hand against her forehead and cheeks. “You don’t seem to have a fever.”

“I feel fine. A bit stuffed up,” she sniffed, “ but I’m not dizzy anymore.”

“That’s good.”

Heath continued Charger’s grooming. Audra crossed her arms against the wooden railing of the saddling enclosure and watched him. Charger began stamping his rear hooves.

“He seems a bit restless,” Audra noticed.

“He’s been jibbing for the last three days.”

“Maybe he contracted my cold,” she bantered.

“His legs feel kind of swollen. I’ll have the vet check him over just to be on the safe side.”

“You know more about horses than he does. What do you think is wrong with him?”

“Bucked shins are usually a sign of stress. I have been working him to the ground these past few days.”

Audra ran her fingers through Charger’s forelock and assured, “He’ll be alright.”

“He has to be. With Nick gone for the next weeks, we’ll all have to pull our weight around here.”

Audra decided to tease her brother by sprinkling hay onto his head while he was hunched down by his horse to examine his hind legs.

A few twigs floated down the corner of his eyes and he just whisked them away.

Audra stifled her giggles and playfully resumed her teasing.

By now, Heath was on to her game. Without any warning, he grabbed her hand just as it was hovering over his head.

“Ouch!”

“Good for you!”

“I forgot, men hate it when we mess up their hair.” She nimbly tousled Heath’s hair and ran for the door.

Before she could move an inch, he took her by the waist and lifted her up in the air. She vainly tried to wiggle her way out of his grip before he tossed her into a bale of hay and retaliated by messing up her hair.

Nick was standing by the barn door, admiring his two young siblings at play.

“What are you kids doing?”

“She started it!” Heath complained, pointing at Audra who was brushing herself off.

Nick grumbled.

“You sound like an old bear,” Audra commented.

“I am an old bear, one who’s going to sling you over his shoulder if you don’t run back to the house this instant. Mother’s mad as a wet hen at your little escapade.”

“Told you,” Heath chaffed.

“She’ll simmer down once she sees how fit I am,” she said, letting out a few coughs.

“Yeah, I can hear that,” Nick answered incredulously.

He bent down to pick up a handful of hay and casually walked towards Heath.

“I’m disappointed in you, sis.”

“Nick, come on!”

“You were doing it all wrong.”

“I beg your pardon?” she asked, somewhat puzzled.

“You don’t sprinkle the hay,” Nick positioned himself behind Heath, “you stuff it down his shirt, like this!” He flung his arm around Heath’s neck and stuffed the hay down the back of his shirt.

Heath managed to wrench himself free. Facing a grinning Nick he stood ready to take charge on him like a ragging bull.

‘Say your prayers, Brother Nick,. Heath jested, storming on Nick with two handfuls of hay.

Nick sprinted off with Heath on his tail. Nick entered the house through the kitchen door and hurried to the dining room where Victoria and Jarrod were drinking coffee.

They looked at Nick, gasping for breath.

“She’s…she’s coming back.”

“My goodness, Nick, what happened to you?” Victoria asked, astounded.

“Don’t ask.”

Outside, Heath threw aside his hay and walked back to the barn to get the wagon ready as Audra was returning to the house.

“Did you get him?”

“No, but I will. He can’t get away from me.” He turned to Audra and with a smirk, said, “I’m the one driving Nick and Jarrod to the train station.”

“Poor Nick”

“Hey, he asked for it! Now get back into the house before Mother scolds you.”

A good fifteen minutes elapsed before Nick and Jarrod were finally ready to leave for the train station. Heath brought the wagon round front and patiently waited for his two brothers to step out of the house. After kissing Victoria goodbye, they climbed in the back.

“Heath, would you drop by Dr. Merar’s office and ask him to come by and check on Audra’s condition,” Victoria asked.

“Sure thing, Mother.” He craned his head to the back and asked, “You’re all cozy back there?”

“Just fine,” Jarrod answered.

“Okay, let’s go!” Heath flicked the horses away.

At the train station, after having hauled the luggage into the Barkley private car, Nick seized Heath by the shoulders and stared at him squarely in the eyes.

“You’re in charge of the ranch, Brother. I have no doubt you’ll do one heck of a job but I’m warning you….you take on the chores that are your sole responsibility and no more! You delegate the rest to the hands, you hear?”

“Understood.”

“Because I know you, you have a tendency to bit on more than you can chew and someday you’re going to choke to death. If I find you laid up when I get back, I’ll strangle you…you got that?”

“Got it,” Heath gulped.

“Come here.”

Nick flung his arm around Heath and pulled him into a manly hug.

“You take care,” Nick said.

Heath rummaged through his trousers pocket and took out a small amount of hay that he stuffed down Nick’s shirt.

“I will.”

They pulled back.

“You just gave me my bon voyage present, didn’t you?”

“Right,” Heath acknowledged with a smirk.

“You little snake,” Nick slapped him lightly on the cheek. “I’m proud of ya!”

Heath walked Nick the rest of the way. All three brothers waved goodbye as the train pulled away.

The next morning, as dawn was breaking, Heath was already dressed for work. In the kitchen drinking his cup of coffee, he revised the work sheet he’d drawn up the night before to ensure the tasks had been fairly assigned.

He buckled on his gunbelt, put on his hat and walked outside.

The ranch hands had only just risen when Heath entered the bunkhouse.

“Hey, boss! Is the house on fire?” one man bantered.

“It has to be for him to get up this early,” another one answered.

They all broke into a guffaw.

“Very funny guys. I wanted to drop by the workload for the day before I rode out to the North range. John reported a loose pole in that area. Isn’t it so, John?”

“Right,” John replied feverishly.

“John, are you feeling all right”? Heath enquired, troubled by the pallidness of the man’s face.

“Not really, boss. I feel lousy,” he lamented, rubbing his upset stomach.

“You may be coming down with a cold.”

“Uh-ho, you know what that means?” one hand sneered.

“What?”

“John’s been making sheep eyes at your sister. Where else would he have caught the bug?”

“He went to Salt Flats last week where several cases of the flu were reported.”

“Okay if you say so, Heath.”

“John, you stay in bed. I’ll get the doctor to have a look at you.”

“All right.”

“He had the spring ploughing to do. Who’s going to fill in for him?”

“Me.”

“I thought you had the North fence to mend?”

“I’ll tackle the ploughing after I’m done with the fence. Okay men, let’s get to work!”

During the following week, more ranch hands fell ill to the tenacious flu epidemic that rapidly spread across the valley. Heath substituted for them, shoulder to the wheel and hand to the plough, unrelentingly drudging from dawn to dusk.

He would often return home all wet and muddy, completely drained with virtually no appetite. He’d skip dinner to clump upstairs to his room where he’d plonk down on his bed, conking out in seconds.

On the eight day, Heath was busy finishing ploughing the field when he felt a sudden twinge in his head. He halted the horses and took a short breather to let it pass.

He removed his gloves and wiped the sweat off his brows with the back of his hand. He noticed that his forehead felt abnormally warm. He had the sniffles and his throat was bothering him. His breath began rasping in his lungs.

“No please, I can’t afford to be sick,” he muttered between clenched teeth.

Not taking any chances, he grudgingly decided to call it a day and returned home.

In the middle of the night, Heath was stricken by a coughing fit. Victoria was climbing up the stairs with a glass of milk in hand when she heard her son’s hacking cough.

She walked into his moonlit room and struck a match to light the lantern on the night table.

She perched herself on the edge of the bed and shook him lightly.

“Heath, wake up son.”

He batted open his eyes and tried to establish a focus on the silhouette sitting next to him.

“Mother?” he coughed, groggy from exhaustion.

“You want some water?”

“Yes, please.”

She reached for the water pitcher on the table and poured in a glass full.

“Did my coughing awake you?”

“No, I was already up. I was downstairs getting a glass of milk.”

She gently bolstered his head up and helped him drink.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks. Guess something went down the wrong way,” he said, clearing his throat.

She ran her hand on his forehead and cheeks.

“You don’t appear to have a fever.”

“I’m fine, Mother. Told you, I swallowed down the wrong hole. Go back to sleep.”

“All right son.”

She kissed him on the forehead and raised the quilt up to his shoulders.

“Keep warm.”

“I will,” he sniffed.

Victoria blew out the lantern, took her glass of milk and crossed the room to the door. Heath exhaled a few more coughs. She turned to him, worried that he may be falling prey to the flu.

The next morning, torrential rain poured down by the bucketfuls but Heath was already in the field, grinding away at finishing the ploughing that he had left undone the day before.

He was drenched to the skin, feeling hot and dizzy. At some point, the damp morning air tickled his throat and he began to cough.

He dropped to his knees in the slushy trenches and hacked his lungs out. A horrified expression washed over his face when he saw the bloody phlegm dripping out of his mouth. His head began to swirl. His vision became increasingly blurred. He breathed in deeply and staggered to his unsteady feet. He grabbed his throbbing head and passed out face down in the mud.

Thirty minutes later, he regained consciousness but could barely move. His body was racked with tremors and his breathing was laboured and wheezy.

He heaved himself up and managed to trudge home.

He was ten feet away from the kitchen door when his knees failed. He commanded all of his remaining strength to crawl over to the door but his weakened body would not allow him to reach his destination. His eyes rolled back in their sockets and he lost consciousness.

An hour later, Heath came to in his bedroom. His eyelids fluttered.

“Heath, can you hear me?”

Listless and plunged into a dream state, Dr. Merar’s muffled voice echoed like a distant whisper in his dull mind. His lacklustre eyes roved around the room.

Dr. Merar tilted his head towards him.

“Heath, can you see me?”

“Doctor?” Heath rasped out.

“How do you feel?”

“Burning hot and weak. I never felt so weak.”

His wheezing and phlegmy cough were distinct symptoms of an illness Victoria dreaded.

“It’s pneumonia,” Dr. Merar informed grimly.

“I was afraid of that.”

“Is my brother going to be all right?”

“I don’t know, Audra.” He turned to Heath who was achingly gasping for air. “He’s in bad shape. His breathing’s laboured, his eyes are dull and he has a scalding fever.”

Audra wiped the tears pearling down her cheeks.

“Has he complained of any aches and pains lately?”

“No, but he was prone to serious coughing fits these past two nights. I advised him to take it slow but he wouldn’t listen to me. You see, with seven of our hands sick with the flu, Heath took it upon himself to do their work.”

“All by himself?”

“I’ve tried hiring some temps but this epidemic...”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t he let me help him?” Audra wailed.

“Listen, it’s not hopeless yet. He’s young and sturdy. There’s a chance he might pull through.”

“What should we do?”

“Keep him in bed. Don’t let him get up under any circumstances, not even to go to the bathroom. Give him the chamber pot.”

“I understand.”

...Continued