GIDEON could almost wish he had said no.
Ya did. Were me what said yes.
An’ look where that done landed us.
Not bored out-a our ever-livin’ mind. That’s where.
That was true. Doing was always best, especially when you had as much on your mind as Gideon did. He wished he had less on his mind and more in his hands where he could deal with it properly. Fortunately, or not, a ranch held no end of work for the industrious. It had certainly kept him busy over the last week and didn’t look to be tapering off.
“Hey, Gov! Give me a hand, will you?”
Gideon set the water bucket on the kitchen porch and went to the garden where Lee was spreading a cart of manure through the soil. They worked in silence, which suited Gideon and did not vex Lee. By and large, Gideon found reticence to be catching. He wasn’t sure why this was so, if it was consideration or intimidation, but a solitary man in a saloon tended to generate a field of ‘hands off’ that sane people abided with care. Where Lee was concerned, quietness seemed to be the result of an easy going personality. The boy was quick with a smile, slow to take offence, yet rowdy with his brothers. Lee was the type to observe, to take everything in and mull the lot over.
It reminded Gideon of a gunman he had known. That gunman would watch and think and hold his peace– right up until something tipped the scales. Then he would pull the trigger, shoot his man dead, and walk away. Gideon often wondered if that gunman had been a decent man. He did not strut nor boast; he simply did the job and called it done. Some said he was straight up vinegar and salt. Some said he was straight up crazy. Everyone said he was best left alone. Naturally, the gangly young Gideon had waltzed right over where the gunman sat on the hotel steps and stared him down.
“Afternoon,” the man had said.
“You crazy as they say?” Gideon asked.
The gunman sized up the impertinent little boy confronting him whilst the world held its collective breath.
“What do you think? he finally replied.
Gideon squinted, tallying the odds. “I reckon not.”
The man then tapped the empty space beside him and Gideon was treated to one of the most pleasant afternoons he had ever known.
Life was like that– going one way or another based on the tiniest actions and no one knowing for sure just which way things would lean. Who would have guessed he would ever catch up with Nelson? And who would have guessed being innocent could get a fellow arrested?
We might've fig’red that one.
We did. Now we gotta fig’r a way out-a this mess.
That led Gideon right back around to keeping his head down and waiting for the Rivers to drop their collective guard. Unfortunately, he had what might be called an ‘on-again off-again’ relationship with patience.
Out across the wild grasses, a movement separated itself from the landscape and slowly became a horse and rider.
“Ember,” Lee declared, following Gideon’s gaze.
“Your other brother?”
“Yep. But don’t worry, he’s the last,” said Lee, well aware that the Rivers boys could feel like a full dozen rather than only four. “Spread a bit in that corner.”
They continued to work until Lee’s brother came trotting up to them. At first glance, Gideon would have mistaken them for one and the same. It was only on the second look he could see the subtle differences.
“Found your proper calling, I see,” Ember greeted his shovel wielding twin. “And you must be Seb.”
“It’s Gideon actually, but we call him Gov,” Lee explained helpfully.
“Well, that clears everything up,” Ember grinned, stepping down and offering Gideon a nod.
“Hello, son,” Amos greeted. The horse he had left in the round pen stared after him, curious about the commotion. “Good to have you home. Do I have any reason to speak with your uncle?”
“‘Course not, Pa.”
“My sister isn’t going to chew my ear? No gambling debts to clear? No sheriff to talk out of locking you up?”
“Aw, I’m not that bad,” Ember shoved aside his father’s concerns; the ribbing wasn’t serious– well, not entirely serious anyway.
“You should have stopped by Gus’s before you left town,” Amos remarked, noticing his son’s indecorously long black hair.
“Pa!” Ember whined, thinking his hair not so long and rather dashing.
Gus Thacker was Caswell Crossing’s one and only barber. He also served as postmaster, undertaker, and collector of town gossip. Until recently, his duties had even included some doctoring. A useful man to have around, was Gus.
Amos draped an arm over his youngest son and gave his shoulders a squeeze. No matter that Ember had been born bare minutes after Lee, Amos would forever think of this rash and beguiling boy as his youngest.
“What brings you home so early?” Lee asked. “Aunt Eddie throw you out on your ear?”
“Luke sent me,” Ember answered. He paused, unsure how his news would be received. “The judge is here. Luke hadn’t expected him for a while, but he’s here all the same. He said to bring Gideon in right away, but no need to tire the horses.”
Gideon could hardly wait to saddle up. Anything that put him closer to Nelson was worth every ounce of his time and attention. As for the judge, what did that matter? His kind were bought and paid for every day. All Gideon had to do was not believe in them. Sure they were real in the sense that you could, for instance, kick them in the shins, but that wasn’t the same thing as saying they held any authority that an enterprising young man had any reason whatsoever to be concerned over. He would get the information he needed, shake the Rivers, and be on his way in no time flat.