Nathanial

by J. B. Richard

  Mr. Fletcher was not smiling like his stupid wife. His brow was set in a deep furrow. Nate needed to not lay it on so thick. He handed his sister to Jesse, who also stared at Nate as if in agreement with the Fletchers that he had lost his mind. Jesse, no doubt, was wondering what in the hell Nate was up to. But he stayed quiet and likely was waiting to see how this trickery played out.

  “His name is Buck. He’s the best horse ever.” Nate went on in a singsong voice. “I was gonna take him for a ride today.” Nate leaned against Jesse for the strength he needed to say what he had to next. “Why don’t ya go with me? You could ride Pa’s horse, Sugar.”

  “What?” Jesse coughed a few times to cover his snicker.

  Pa had called his horse every name but Sugar. That big bay could be quite spirited when it took a notion to be. He had never sent Pa sailing off his back, but a man with fewer horse skills could easily be dropped on his head.

  Jesse cleared his throat and regained control. He patted Nate’s shoulder in mock sympathy. He likely had a good idea of what he was scheming. Not that Nate wanted Fletcher to get hurt, because he didn’t. He just wanted the man to see that, like that horse, Nate required a certain someone who knew how to handle him.

  “I told ya, kid. I will be supervising these visits, and I aim to do just that.” The firmness in Jesse’s voice was put on, but the Fletchers didn’t hear it.

  Mr. Fletcher’s face smoothed as the realization of what Nate asked sank into his brain. They would be alone, just the two of them—well, three if his wife went riding with them. But Nate didn’t believe for a minute that she would sit astride a horse, maybe not even sidesaddle. She was too used to having a fancy carriage under her seat.

  “I have work around here to do. I can’t be gallivantin’ to wherever.” It was Jesse’s way of asking Nate where he planned on taking Fletcher. With that knowledge, he would piece together more of the plan.

  “But Jumping Fish Canyon is so pretty this time of year. I could pick Ma some flowers.” Nate thrust out a lip, faking a big pout.

  Jesse nodded. He remained quiet, so it might have looked to the others that he was thinking it over.

  Nate and Jesse both knew that Jumping Fish Canyon was one rough spot to take a horse. The rabbit path to get there formed a maze around tree clusters, boulders, and a scattering of fields and much smaller canyons. It would be easy for a man unfamiliar with the area to get lost. Then the trail through the mouth wasn’t too bad, a little rocky, but once inside the boxy walls, that was another story. Three of the four sides were sheer cliffs that stood close to two hundred feet high. The remaining side was sloped at a rough, steep angle, and what made it worse was it was shale. The flimsy, unreliable mineral could give way under any amount of weight.

  It wasn’t hard to figure out what Jesse was pondering. On a dare a few months back, while Nate had been fishing in the canyon with his buddies, he had risked the fall while riding Buck and made it to the top. It was on the way down that Buck had faltered, rocks sliding out from under them, and Buck’s hindquarters sank. Nate went tumbling, and when he finally stopped rolling and coughed all the dust out of his lungs, he painfully found out that he could hardly stand on his one leg. Worse than that, Buck had hurt his leg and was limping.

  As soon as Nate got home and Pa took one hard look at them, somehow he knew. Nate got his ass wailed that day. Jesse had been mad too. But if Nate could slip out over the rim of that cliff, it would likely take Fletcher all day to find his way back to the ranch. A sneaky little giggle slipped out as he pictured Fletcher wandering around until dark.

  “Not Jumping Fish Canyon. Maybe Bear Meadow,” Jesse said in with an air of uncertainty, which wasn’t fake. Bear Meadow was beyond Jumping Fish Canyon, so Nate could still lose Fletcher, but the risk of the fall wasn’t there.

  “We should stay close,” Fletcher said, then added, “I have no ill intentions. I will agree to any terms you wish to set.”

  Nate was taken aback. There was a ring of oath-giving in the man’s voice. It honestly made Nate believe him.

  What was he thinking? He couldn’t trust that man. Fletcher was the meanie who was trying to take him away.

  Deloris Fletcher cackled. “Dearest, what are you doing?” She lightly touched her man’s arm. “Since when do you ask permission or compromise? We both know Nathanial rightfully belongs to us. I find this entire visitation setup highly annoying. You shouldn’t have had the judge suspend the trial. The sooner we return to New York, the better.”

  “You bitch!” Nate’s mean temper exploded. Hell would freeze over before he went anywhere with them.

  Jesse slapped a hand over Nate’s mouth. Deloris Fletcher gasped. Her eyes were stretched unbelievingly wide. Jesse didn’t offer an apology, nor did he make Nate give one. He did keep his hand covering Nate’s feisty tongue.

  “Darling, we spoke about this,” Lem Fletcher calmly said as he fanned the air with his palm for a few seconds to help his wife breathe.

  “Hello.” Marshal Huckabee trotted his horse up to the hitch rail where he stepped down. He nodded at the Fletchers, then at Jesse. “How’s Nolan?”

  “Last I looked in on him, his fever was awful high. He didn’t know who he was or where he was at.” The words caught in Jesse’s throat, choking him up.

  Huckabee took a deep breath. He had obviously been hoping for some uplifting news. That Pa was getting better, not worse. “Judge Prescott took my testimony this morning. He needs to hear your side of what happened when you brought those prisoners in since it was just you. I’ll watch things here if you wanna ride into town now and be done with it.”

  “Sounds good.” Jesse handed Elizabeth to Huckabee, then headed for the corral to fetch his horse.

  “Jesse,” Nate called. “What about that ride?” He nodded toward Fletcher.

  “No, not now, partner. I got something important that needs taken care of. Maybe another time.” Jesse was no longer pretending to be serious. He meant what he said, and Nate knew the difference by the sharp tone. It seemed that Jesse could only focus on one big thing, and although he would have been keeping an eye on Nate at a fair distance, it appeared that space had grown too far when Jesse’s duties as deputy took him off the ranch and into town. He hustled his horse into the barn where his saddle was stored.

  The rest of them headed into the house. Nate watched at the window and waited until Jesse was gone. He turned to the marshal who was talking to Doc. Fletcher had his ear turned and appeared to be listening but kept quiet. Mrs. Fletcher was dreamily watching Elizabeth rolling around the floor, biting on Ticklebug.

  “Marshal Huckabee.” Nate interrupted, which probably wasn’t the best way to get what he wanted, but he was growing impatient. Jesse should have just given Nate permission, and it sort of irked him that he hadn’t.

  Huckabee looked down at Nate. “What is it?”

  Nate squirmed a little. He was taught not to tell lies. But if this worked to get rid of the Fletchers, everyone would be happier, including Pa’s best friend.

  “Right before you got here, Jesse said me and Mr. Fletcher could go for a ride.” Nate uneasily shifted. Lawmen had an uncanny way of knowing when someone was lying, or at least Pa seemed to have that gift.

  Nate couldn’t keep his gaze on Huckabee. He looked over at the Fletchers. The man was eyeballing him suspiciously. He was aware of Nate’s fib but said nothing to contradict it. Mrs. Fletcher was grinning proudly as if they had won Nate over and he was now theirs. Dumb broad.

  “He did?” Huckabee scratched his chin. “I heard him tellin’ ya no.”

  “He meant no, he couldn’t go. I wanted Jesse to go with us.”

  Huckabee didn’t seem to know what to think. Nate didn’t like the Fletchers, Huckabee knew, and neither did Jesse. So he was probably asking himself why Nate would want to go alone for a ride with the man they all considered the enemy. “Where’d he say you could go?”

  “Bear Meadow.” Nate took Jesse’s earlier suggestion.
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  He and the marshal didn’t have the same internal dialog that Nate and Jesse had. He and Pa had taken Huckabee and his son fishing in the creek inside Jumping Fish Canyon, so he knew exactly what lay within those four stone walls. It wasn’t flowers like Nate had hinted earlier when trying to convince Jesse to let him take Mr. Fletcher there. Plus, Nate doubted that the marshal would allow him to play such a trick. Pa wouldn’t have liked it either, but none of that was going to stop Nate. He’d made up his mind. He would win this battle with the Fletchers, and to do that, he needed to play by his own rules.

  “We should be back by lunch,” Nate added with a touch of honey on his voice. He would worry about facing Jesse later.

  Fletcher must not have thought of that since he hadn’t spoken up to thwart Nate’s plan. Fletcher slid to the edge of his chair, waiting to hear whatever Huckabee said. His eager posture sort of had Nate thinking that maybe he wasn’t the only one pulling a shenanigan. Maybe that Fletcher fella was up to something. Nate suddenly wasn’t so sure he wanted the marshal’s permission. Maybe him going off alone with Mr. Fletcher wasn’t so smart. Perhaps Jesse had been right, and Nate should just stay at home.

  “All right. If you’re sure you want to go.” The marshal must have sensed Nate’s uneasiness.

  In his lifetime, Nate had dealt with much worse than Fletcher. That thought gave him the kick in the butt to get going. He was wasting time, time that could be used in driving the Fletchers away. Mr. Fletcher hadn’t shown himself to be hateful like some of the men from Nate’s past, so he wasn’t worried about Fletcher hurting him. But Nate’s gut was tight anyway.

  When he pulled the bay out of the stall by his lead rope, the big horse snorted. Somehow Nate just knew Pa’s horse was feeling contrary. “I ain’t strong enough to lift the saddle on his back. You’ll have to do that and my horse too.”

  “Oh.” Fletcher looked baffled as if he’d never lifted a finger toward a menial chore in his life.

  Nate pointed to where the saddles were kept. Fifteen minutes later, which felt like an hour, he had talked Fletcher step by step through saddling both animals. They were finally ready to go. Nate led Buck outside the barn. Fletcher followed with the bay.

  “Why did you lie to the marshal?” Fletcher eyed him curiously.

  “Because I wanted to ride my horse. I ain’t allowed to go too far without havin’ someone with me. You know, to protect me from all those dangers out there like grizzly bears, cougars, and Indians or maybe even bandits. You brought a gun, didn’t ya?” Every word Nate had said was horseshit, but he’d put a good spin on the hum of it so it sounded quite believable to him.

  Fletcher shrewdly eyeballed him. Likely, he was trying to figure out if Nate was telling the truth or not. Why not confuse the man a little more?

  “A small white lie will never hurt anyone.” Nate winked at Fletcher. “Don’t tell Ma or Jesse, but I lie all the time. I think it’s in my blood. You know I was born to an outlaw.” That was information Fletcher already knew, but Nate was doing his best to make himself sound as bad as possible. Maybe if he seemed like a huge headache, then the Fletchers would back out of the trial.

  “Is that so?” Fletcher said without humor. “I believe you know exactly what you’re saying, right down to the very point of asking if I would like to take a ride with you. I own gaming horses and hunt for sport. I can ride.” The pompous ass was too sure of himself as he stepped up and swung a leg over the bay.

  And cantankerous that horse showed himself to be. He arched his back and bucked a few short hops. Fletcher flew up into the air, then hit the dirt on his back. Dust puffed up in his face.

  Nate snickered. “I reckon Sugar”—Nate drew out the word—“ain’t no gamin’ horse.”

  “Isn’t a gaming horse,” Fletcher snapped.

  Nate rolled his eyes, then climbed up Buck’s tail as he did most times to mount his horse.

  Fletcher got up, dusting off his slacks, then once again stepped up into the saddle.

  They rode out of the ranch yard to the south. The fresh air brushing Nate’s face as Buck trotted did feel good. The mustang’s ears were up, and he flicked his tail. He seemed eager to go.

  Nate patted Buck’s neck. “You wanna fly, don’t ya?” Nate wasn’t really asking. He also had that urge to soar over the land, but they couldn’t. Not with Fetcher this close to home. Nate didn’t want to lose him so soon, or Fletcher would just turn around and find his way back to the ranch. So Buck would have to wait for his chance to run.

  They’d gone three, four miles when Fletcher suddenly spoke. “I understand that you like to read.”

  Nate shrugged and kept his eyes on the trail ahead of them.

  “Deloris and I have a library in our home. Over four hundred titles.”

  Nate turned and stared. There probably weren’t that many books in all of Gray Rock. “Have you read them all?”

  “No, not all of them. A good many, I have.”

  They rode a few minutes in silence.

  “Do you like school?” Fletcher looked over at Nate.

  “Sometimes. Mostly, I think it’s boring.” Nate didn’t say it, but usually, the work was too easy. He liked a challenge.

  “We spoke to your teacher, Mrs. McKay. She said you’re a straight-A student. Gifted is what she called you.”

  “Huh?” Nate wrinkled up his nose. Was he in trouble for something he didn’t know about? And why the hell had his teacher said a word to those people about him? She shouldn’t have done that, not without Ma and Pa’s permission, which they probably would not have given.

  Fletcher chuckled. “Gifted just means that you’re very smart. Did you ever think about someday attending a university?”

  “No,” Nate said.

  Ma and Pa could never afford that. Plus, Nate wanted to be the next sheriff of Gray Rock, and he didn’t have to go away to a big, fancy school to learn that. He was being taught by Pa and Jesse every day. Nate was planning on being an even better lawman than Pa.

  “With the right resources—”

  Nate jerked up on the reins, abruptly cutting off Fletcher’s words as he then halted the bay. So that was it. Fletcher’s hidden agenda. He aimed to buy Nate, win him over with the expensive things that Ma and Pa could only ever dream of giving their kids. Well, this ploy would not work on Nate.

  “I ain’t impressed by money.” Nate knew what it was like to be dirt poor, and he was grateful for what he had now, which was a loving family. That was much better than anything money could buy him. He was happy until this trial business started. He didn’t need anything more than was given to him under Ma and Pa’s roof.

  Fletcher stiffened. “I meant no insult to Mr. and Mrs. Crosson.”

  Nate hadn’t mentioned his folks. This fella was good at reading him. Nate didn’t like that.

  “Don’t you mean my father and mother?” he corrected, barely restraining his temper. What he wanted to say in the worst way was that Mr. Lem Fletcher could go bunk with the devil. Instead, Nate nudged Buck and chose to ignore the fact that Fletcher was riding next to him.

  Nate turned onto the trail into Jumping Fish Canyon. From that point, they had to ride with Nate leading and Fletcher a horse length behind. The path had narrowed, and Nate was glad for the little solitude. In a half mile, they would be at the small mouth of Jumping Fish Canyon. The trail inside was three-quarters of a mile in length and dotted with sage. Here and there, rocks had crumbled down off the sides, narrowing the trail more. Buck had been on this deer path quite a few times, so his feet were sound. The bay too was familiar with his rough surroundings and didn’t balk at the long cattle shoot-like line ahead of them. Had Fletcher been riding a timid horse, this trail wouldn’t have been so easily navigated. Nate should have given him Ma’s horse.

  Inside the belly of the canyon, the creek trickled on their right along the western wall. A beaver slapped its tail, warning them not to come closer. Nate kept Buck walking straight ahead. It was three miles, if not mo
re, to cross to the other side where the slope stood that Nate had ridden up only once.

  “This trail doesn’t seem to lead anywhere,” Fletcher remarked as he twisted in the saddle, looking every which way. “Are you sure this is the canyon? I don’t see any flowers. You said—”

  Fletcher’s head snapped around. His face hardened, and the veins on either side of his neck popped out. They were thirty feet from the cliff that Nate was about to chance. It must have dawned on Fletcher what Nate had been planning.

  His eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  Whether the man was asking about Nate risking his neck to climb that cliff or wondering if Nate was about to leave him, the answer to both was yes.

  “Enjoy the ride back if ya can find your way.” Nate hammered his boot heels into Buck’s sides.

  His horse leaped forward and shot off at a run straight at that cliff. Buck didn’t hesitate. His hooves clinked on the rocks, and a few times, his back end dipped when stones slid under his feet. His neck was stretching and he snorted to breathe as they climbed higher up the rocky wall. There were grooves and some sunken pockets where Buck could have broken a leg had he stepped there. Nate didn’t remember it being so rough the last time. Buck hopped at the sound of crunching rocks, which sent them stumbling sideways. Nate’s grip on the reins tightened, along with all his insides.

  From below, a cry arose. “Hang on!”

  As if Nate needed to be told. Buck had regained his footing and was steadily climbing toward the rim. Nate couldn’t seem to take a breath. One of Buck’s front hooves, then the other struck the crest. Buck’s powerful shoulders pulled while his back end scrambled for a toehold. Nate was sure his heart was going to give out. Then Buck lurched forward, and they were safely standing on the rim.

  Nate looked down. Buck had been lucky to make that steep climb. Nate rubbed his head. He could’ve killed his best friend. He should’ve listened to Jesse. What he’d done was stupid. He’d been so blinded by the satisfying thought of Fletcher having to find his way six miles back to the ranch that he hadn’t thought too much about the consequences if his plan went wrong.