Chapter Three of Lord I Need You

Good morning, afternoon, or evening, everyone! 

Today I'll be posting Chapter Three of Lord I Need You. This chapter starts out in Mark's POV, and then switches back to Brody's at the very end. 

Hope you all like it! 

Chapter Three

Mark watched Brody’s lifeless face, hoping that he’d wake up. The blow to his head he hoped had made no internal bleeding or permanent damage.

Oh, please, Lord, keep Brody safe. He cast a glance at the burly thieves crowded around the fire. And please keep us both safe from those men. He carefully scooted to a more comfortable position. It was almost impossible, as he and his brother were both tied up to the trees, ropes wrapped around their bodies. They had both awoken in thick crowding of trees; not a forest, but something man-made, abandoned years ago. The trees and underbrush had just grown and grown and now it made an excellent hideout for outlaws.

Brody stirred, eyes fluttering. Mark gasped and wished he could be free so he could tend to his big brother. “Brody!” he cried. “Brody!”

The boy’s lips parted and an awful moan slipped out. He groaned again and his eyes flew open. “M-Mark?”

“Hey.” Mark’s eyebrows furrowed in worry. “You okay?”

“I hurt all over,” Brody rasped. He groaned again. “Oh, Mark,” he moaned, “where are we?”

“An outlaw’s camp,” Mark growled, glaring at the turned backs of the bandits. “We’re kidnapped.”

Brody moaned. He looked horrible; his arms were crusted with dried blood, his torn shirt showed cuts and scrapes, and the cut on his head from Reckless’ hoof had dripped blood, now dried on Brody’s cheek and temple. His lips were cracked and bloody from his teeth biting them and his eyes red after being irritated by dirt. Mark turned back to the men. “Hey!” he shouted, perhaps unwise. “My brother’s really hurtin’. Aren’t you gonna do anything?”

The biggest, the one who had grabbed Brody, turned around. Spotting Brody’s battered body and cuts, he stood up. “Sure. There’s a stream down there; ya two can go wash up, and ya” – He pointed at Mark – “can wash his wounds with this.” He tossed Mark a heavy bottle of whiskey. Mark’s stomach lurched. I don’t want anything to do with alcohol. But when he looked at Brody, and the dirty, bloody wounds, his heart skipped a beat. But Brody needs me. If he doesn’t get washed, then he could get infection.

And die. Mark shuddered as the huge bandit cut away their binds. His eyes flashed fire and he growled loudly, “An’ if ya try t’ run away, I’ll kill yer whole ranch, steal everythin’, and take yer family, too.”  

Mark gulped. That was a dire threat, and one the man could easily carry out. The outlaw handed him a clean rag. Mark grabbed Brody’s hand and slowly made his way to the gully. Supporting Brody with his entire body, Mark eased himself down into the gully, helping Brody’s limp body all the way. When reaching the stream cutting the valley in half, Brody peeled his shirt off and stepped into the water. It was only waist high, so he lowered himself to his knees and dunked.

Mark drenched the rag in whiskey. “Okay, Brody,this is gonna hurt – a lot. Can you take it?”

Brody’s face went white, and his eyes showed his fear, but he nodded. “If it will help me live, yes.”

“We’ll start on this cuts on your chest.” Mark waded into the stream after his brother, took a deep breath, and said, “Here we go.” He stuck the smelly, whiskey-drenched rag onto one of the bloody slashes, then dabbed. Brody screamed and jumped back, his eyes flashing with pain.

Tears sprang to Mark’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, Brody. I – I . . .” Fear engulfed him; his heart ached for his parents, for his brother, and he wished he were home. He was so scared. So, so scared.

Brody took a shuddering breath, eyes locked on Mark’s teary ones. “It’s not your fault, Markie. I’m sorry. You come do it; now. If I scream, keep going.”

Mark drenched the rag again and cleaned all the wounds on Brody’s chest. By the time they were done, Brody was clenching his teeth, clenching his fists, and tears were in his eyes. “My arms,” he rasped.

Mark drenched the rag, then worked on his arms. Brody’s breath quickened and his moaned. “Oh, it hurts!”

Mark didn’t stop, but his heart thumped fast. When he was done, Brody dunked in the cool water. When he came up, Mark poured the whiskey over the wounds. Brody yelled nonsense, then stopped. “Okay,” he huffed, his breathing fast, his chest heaving. “Now my head.”

Mark cleaned his head wound, then Brody dunked his head. Finally, he tipped his head to the side and let Mark dribbled the whiskey onto the wound.

“They look fine,” Mark at last announced. Tears streaked his cheeks. “Oh, Brody.” His shoulders shook with sobs.

“Hey, hey, I’m fine.” Brody managed a hug. “Don’t cry, little brother. We’ll get outta this mess; I promise.”

Mark swiped at the tears, ashamed of them. “Okay.” Then with fury, he chucked the whiskey and rag into the bushes. Then he grinned sheepishly at Brody. “Sorry.”

Brody coaxed a laugh up and was surprised to find it felt good. So he laughed again, this time for real. “It’s fine.”

The two brothers hurried back up the gully’s walls, then back into camp. Without speaking, the huge outlaw tossed both boys a new set of clothes. They changed, and when the outlaw came with ropes, Mark stepped in front of Brody, eyes flashing with fury. “No. We won’t be tied up; especially with the condition Brody is in. We’ll stay; we won’t run away. We know what you’ll do if we run.”

An evil smile split the outlaw’s face. “Fine.” He stalked off, lit a cigar, and motioned for the boys to come to the fire. Dry johnnycake was passed out. Mark bit into it hungrily, then welcomed the tough chicken the outlaw’s offered him.

“You two are gonna help me an’ me buddies with stealin’ yer own cattle,” the outlaw laughed, glad to have their attention. Brody’s jaw tightened.

The outlaw went on. “Ya two can call me Andy. This is Eddy and Cook.” He motioned to the other two. “Eddy’s a ranch hand who was cheated on, and Cook’s a ranch cook who hated his job. I’m a born rustler.” He roared his laughter. “You two seem t’ have guts, so ya both will be a big help in rustlin’.”

Mark wanted to speak, but he knew he’d flip if he did. The bandit’s words shoved daggers into his gut. Steal my own cattle! I can’t do that to Pa.

“If yer thinkin’ ya could stop me, ya can’t,” the outlaw growled, glaring at Mark. “I have a great plan, and ya will carry it out, if ya want yer family t’ live.”

Mark swallowed a scream.

“First, ya two will ride back to yer ranch, but ya won’t stay. Ya both’ll go to the west flats an’ tell them cowboys ya have orders from yer pa t’ drive the cattle to the prairie. Instead o’ goin’ t’ the prairie, ya both are gonna head that way, then turn and meet me in the gully – with the cattle.” He chuckled wickedly. “Nobody’ll ’spect it. They’ll jes’ think it’s ya two, wantin’ t’ follow orders from yer pa.”

It was indeed clever, but Mark saw no joke in it. “This is awful,” he snapped. “You’re just a stupid outlaw with no brains. How could you do this to us? My brother’s injured, I’m scared half out of my wits, and you want us to steal our own branded cattle?” His voice rose. “I hate this! Let us go back home! I –” He got no further. With a curse, Andy sprang up and cuffed his head – hard. Mark howled and clutched his ear.

“You don’t sass me, boy,” Andy shouted. “If ya do, I’ll beat ya!”

Brody shot to his feet. “Leave my brother alone.”

Andy swore. “Ya two?” He raised his hand for a blow, but Mark jumped up. Fury swallowed him. He was so mad. With a screaming yell, he launched at Andy, slammed into the outlaw, and gave a mighty push. Andy staggered backwards. Eddy and Cook roared with laughter.

Andy didn’t see anything funny about it. He charged at the boys, teeth bared.

“Run!” screamed Brody. He took Mark’s hand and the boys crashed through the bushes, far, far away, the promise of not running forgotten.

They kept running. Brody’s wounds altered his steps, but he gave the pain not a second thought. He kept running, dragging Mark behind him. We need to get away and tell Pa! his mind screamed. But when they were finally hidden in a circle of scraggly bushes, his brain told him to go back. You can stop him yourself. Andy said you couldn't, but I bet you could. Mark knocked him over. Brody glanced at Mark, who cowered against a tree trunk, eyes roving every bush. Poor Mark. Poor me. Poor us! Brody looked at his chapped hands. Yeah, we can't go home. I heard Andy’s threat. He’ll waste no time going home and hurting Pa, Ma, and the girls.

Go back! He glanced behind his shoulder. Say you’re sorry, then find some witty way to stop Andy, Eddy, and Cook. It sounded stupid, but the more Brody thought about it, the more he was able to get his thoughts wittier and wittier. He forgot about a sorry, but instead thought that perhaps the two could go back and admit they were stupid to run, accept whatever punishment (if it wasn't too horrible), and that they were stuck for sure and wouldn't try running again. They would act like silly little boys.

And so his plan began to unfold, starting with a return to their enemy's nest.

~IZZY WEST