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By Dale
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Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the TV program "Big Valley" are the creations of Four Star/Republic Pictures and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. No infringement is intended in any part by the author, however, the ideas expressed within this story are copyrighted to the author.

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Nick and Heath on a rainy day.
Nick found his younger brother stretched out on a sofa in the billiard room, his nose in a book, a newspaper scattered on the floor. Heath still had his boots on, but his feet were considerately draped over the armrest. Victoria had managed to housebreak her two younger sons to that extent--though not much more.

"Well!" Nick snapped. "It's the middle of the day and you're reading? Since when did you become a gentleman of leisure?"

Heath didn't even look up. "It's November and it's rainin," he said. "Nothing's goin undone that needs doin today."

Nick frowned, then found another tack. "A dime novel. That's a good use of your leisure."

"It ain't a dime novel," Heath said irritably.

Nick leaned over to get a look. The book cover was brightly illustrated, and the title was Taking the High Road: Danger, Adventure, Derring-do and Riches on the Goodnight-Loving Trail. The True Story of Charles Goodnight and his Epic Cattle Drive. Nick snorted. "Looks like a dime novel to me."

"Well, I bow to your superior knowledge of dime novels, big brother. I never knew anyone who's read so many of em as you." Heath finally looked up. "Or was that Shakespeare you brought up to the lake? I get em mixed up."

Nick winced; it sure hadn't been Shakespeare. For all he knew Taking the High Road had come from his own collection. After a while they all ran together. "Good one, huh?"

"Pretty good."

Nick looked out the window. It was November and it was still raining, though perhaps it had let up a little. The truth was, it was a dull day and Nick had come over hoping his little brother would provide some amusement--willingly or unwillingly. From the looks of it it would be unwillingly. Heath had stuck his nose back in his book and was doing his best to ignore his older brother.

Nick frowned, suddenly thoughtful. It was November and it was raining, but it still wasn't like Heath to be lounging about in the middle of the day. Rain or no rain, November or not, there were things that could be done just the same, and it wasn't like Heath to not be out doing them. "So what's got into you, little brother? You look a little down in the mouth."

Heath lowered his book, looked at Nick with narrowed eyes, trying to gauge his sincerity. Honest question or the start of more teasing? Normally he took Nick's joshing with good spirit, and usually gave as good as he got, but he was in no mood for it today. He decided Nick was sincere.

He handed Nick a section of the paper from the floor. "Look at that."

Nick looked it over, frowned. "Governor signs new construction bill," he puzzled.

"Not that one. On the right."

"State budget surplus."

Heath sighed. "Below that."

"Rail link with south nears completion." Heath nodded, but Nick was even more confused than before. "That ain't exactly news, little brother. They've been working on that line for a long time. And, heck, it ain't even finished yet. Now that would be news."

"It ain't finished yet, but it will be come summer." Heath let out a little sigh. "I can't tell you how many times I run cattle into Los Angeles or San Diego. Before I came here I must have hit one of those towns five, six times." Mixed feelings: he'd had some troubled times in Los Angeles, but, my, oh, my, the air in San Diego had been soft and sweet. He wouldn't mind seeing San Diego again.

"Since you came here too," Nick said. "But so what?"

"When that railroad's finished there won't be nowhere to drive em but to the station. I reckon our days of big drives are over."

"I guess so too," Nick said, a little doubtfully. "Is that so bad? Last time you had to take a herd down to San Diego you weren't too happy about it."

Heath shrugged. "Maybe so. But think on it, Nick." He held up the book. "This here drive was just about the first really big drive in the West. Texas to Colorado. And it wasn't but thirteen some years ago. Thirteen! And it's already over, Nick. All that's happened while we were still young men. Well, young-like, at least."

"Speak for yourself," Nick said lightly. The conversation was getting a little too solemn. "I'm still plenty young."

"And you still got your girlish figure," Heath said dryly. Truth was Nick did still have the lean body of a young man, while he himself--well, there was a vague softness around his waist that hadn't been there before. He was as active as ever, as strong as ever--but this gray day told him something had changed irrevocably. They had been young men--hardly more than boys, really--when Charles Goodnight had driven his herd to Colorado. They would scarcely be middle-aged when that line to Los Angeles was opened. But in those years a whole way of life had sprung into being and was now about to be choked off. Oh, not all of it: they'd still raise cattle, they'd still round em up and brand em and cut em in the spring. Still take em to market in the late summer.

But the drives were probably already a thing of the past. Those long, hot, dusty days. Needing to be alert every second, on edge for that random event that might trigger a stampede. Watchful of the weather and the water. The press of responsibility for so many men and animals. Long days, weeks, sometimes, away from home, the monotony of beef, beef, beef at every meal.

For all that, there was so much good in that hard work. The deep sleep that could fall after a long day in the saddle. The warmth and the camaraderie around the chuck wagon. The soft sounds of men singing to the cattle. Even the nights on guard duty, watching the dipper go around the sky. Responsibility seemed lighter and sweeter when you looked out over the vast quiet of a sleeping herd and sleeping men.

Heavily, Nick sat down on the armrest, beside his brother's boots. He thought it over, and felt deflated. Heath was right. Oh, maybe some other excuse would come around to take them away from home and the grind and the responsibility and--God love them, but really--the womenfolk and the children, too. Nick loved his family dearly, but it could be such a relief to be in the company of men: the lines were clear and sharp, things were simpler. You didn't suddenly find yourself lost in a swamp of emotion with men. No, men took things differently, with a laugh or a shrug or even a fight, but a good clean fight that cleared the air.

This line of thought made Nick feel low, but feeling low was not his strong point, and he rarely felt that way for long. All right, no more drives; but there would be other adventures. Visits to the mines, all over the West, and pleasantly far away. And the lumber camps, with their crisp cold green air and those high-spirited dances. Yes, they'd find other ways to skip out from time to time. Too, it was nearing dinner time, and he'd caught a good heady whiff a few minutes before, passing by the kitchen.

Nick felt much of his good humor restored, but he realized his brother was still in a funk. Both thought of themselves primarily as cattle men. But Nick had always had other responsibilities. Heath had always had other jobs, but running cattle had been the thing he'd looked forward to; other things he'd done just to make ends meet. They were both physical men, gifted with agility and strength and proud of it, but, Nick thought, Heath had had little else to rely on in those lean years before coming to his father's family; perhaps the thought of losing that youth and strength bothered him more on that account.

Those were good explanations, but not quite the whole picture. Nick knew his younger brother was just of a more melancholic nature. He seemed as strong and as impassive as could be, but you could never be quite sure of what would set him off, or how best to bring him around again. Sometimes he could be joshed out it; most times, though, you just had to let him find his own way.

Nick had the sense that today was one of those times. But he'd come over here because he was bored and a little at loose ends himself, and he was unwilling to go away feeling the same. With a small grin he said, "Cheer up. Maybe Coastal & Western'll charge so much we'll have to drive the cattle anyway."

Heath's only response was a grimace.

Nick looked at the book, grinned. "You think they'll ever write a dime novel about me? I've had a few pretty exciting experiences. And I'm handsome enough to be a hero."

"You?" Heath sputtered. "Nobody with a head that big could be called handsome. Or a hero."

But Nick was off on his tangent now, really taken with the idea. "Seriously, though, think about it. My adventures in the war. My many cattle drives. My way with women--"

Heath snorted.

"I should give it a try," Nick mused. "It's a rainy day, nothing better to do." He looked briefly at his brother. "No company here worth having. I think it's time I put pen to paper."

Heath groaned. He swung his legs around Nick and sat up. "If you're gonna start reminiscin I think I'll go find me some chores."

"Not just yet," Nick said. "It's darn near dinner time. What say you we get us a little grub, and then I'll help you out with your chores." He grinned. "I'll put it in my memoirs."

"Big brother, I reckon your memoirs will be one dime novel I won't read."

Nick was pleased by his brother's lighter mood. But he couldn't stop himself from saying slowly, "You know, I'll miss those drives too. But at least we got to see it. At least we'll always know what it was like. Think how dull life's gonna be for the next generation. They'll have it so soft and cushy they won't even know it can be fun to do things rough."

"I know you're right," Heath said. "I guess I'm just not ready to be philosophical about it yet."

"I know," Nick said. "Maybe I ain't quite as philosophical as I sound. Maybe come summer I'll feel a whole lot worse about it." He clapped his brother on the shoulder. "But I promise you, little brother, when we round up this spring I'll let you ride drag. That should give you a whole drive's worth of dust."

"You're too kind."

"Another heroic trait. Aren't you coming?"

"I'll be there in a minute. I'll just pick up these things."

"Mother will be so pleased." Nick headed for the dining room, whistling.

Heath picked up the papers and put them back on the table. The dime novel he slipped in a pocket. He looked out at the gray day again. He appreciated Nick's efforts to chide him into a better frame of mind. It hadn't quite worked. He didn't often give himself over to wondering about the future. Too much of his life had been a struggle just to get from day to day; he'd learned to keep his head down and let the future worry about itself. Perhaps it was the change in his circumstances, or perhaps it was just an inevitable part of getting older, but today the future seemed as gray and heavy as the day itself. No more cattle drives! A chore, really, a long and dirty and difficult one. How could you think of something as a chore, not even realize how much pleasure it gave you, until it was gone? Maybe that was the really sting of getting older: not losing things but realizing how little you'd appreciated things.

From the door Nick cleared his throat. "Meal's on the table, and I'm hungry."

Heath took one last look out the window. "I'm coming," he said.

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