As awful as the ride up to the north pasture had been, the slog back was even worse. Mother had told them to wait, that it was too early in the season to take the herd up there, too soon after the heavy rains, but Nick had been adamant that it be done now. He'd argued that the animals needed the fresh, new grass available there to fatten them up and since starting on the new fence would have to wait until the water went down it was the perfect time to take a break from the day to day running of the ranch for the short time it would take to relocate the animals.

Heath hadn't wanted to go. He'd said he didn't think they should be dilly-dallying about when there was work to be done, but the fact he couldn't come up with any specific job that needed doing meant Nick had been able to twist him arm and get him to agree to the trip. Something that Nick was regretting now.

"Come on, little brother," he coaxed, "it's not much further."

"You've been… saying that for hours."

"Yeah, well, we just passed Sutter's Ridge so I mean it now." Nick nudged his horse closer to Heath's. They'd both been thrown from their horses earlier that morning when the ground, affected by all the wet weather they'd been having, gave way as they rode along the riverbank. Nick knew he'd be feeling the bumps and bruises he got as a result for days but Heath had landed badly, not that Nick had realized it right away. Nick had rolled to his feet, spent a few minutes slapping his hat against his pants to get rid of the worst of the dirt, grumbling about the horses and joking about the whole thing before he realized he hadn't heard anything from Heath. He'd spun around, expecting to find that Heath taking care of the horses and ignoring his bluster like always, but instead found his brother lying half in and half out of the river, struggling to push himself up and keep his face out of the water.

Immediately Nick had raced over and pulled him out, but Heath was still pretty much soaked through and kept coughing up water. Nick was definitely no doctor, but even he knew getting water in the lungs could be a dangerous thing. Add in that Heath also had gash just under the hairline that was bleeding sluggishly and that he seemed to have trouble focusing, and, well, Nick wasn't above admitting to himself that he was worried. Luckily, while the horses were skittish, they hadn't bolted, so after dragging Heath out of the river and onto dry land it only took a moment for Nick to be able to calm them down enough to grab both set of reins.

Deciding the sooner he got Heath home the better, Nick made quick work of getting Heath as dry as possible, even sacrificing his spare shirt to the effort. Neither of them had brought another set of pants, but he was able to help Heath into a dry shirt and then get the two of them back onto their horses all in under twenty minutes. That had been three hours ago and although Heath had seemed to be managing all right at first, he was noticeably flagging now, slumping lower and lower in the saddle, his head bobbing in time with the horse's slow trot, looking for all the world like a sleepy toddler, struggling to stay awake past their bedtime.

Grinning to himself at the thought, Nick joked, "You falling asleep over there, Heath?"

That must have been the case because Heath jerked awake and upright, losing his balance and it was only Nick's quick reflexes, grabbing onto his arm, that kept him in the saddle. Opening his mouth, probably about to yell or complain or who knows what, Heath suddenly turned white, his eyes widening in shock and began to hack out a string of the deepest, most awful sounding coughs that Nick had ever heard.

The attack seemed like it lasted for ages before Heath finally settled, wrapping an arm around his chest and wheezing a tired sigh.

"I'm going to let go of you so I can grab my canteen. You're not going to faint on me now, are you?"

"I ain't gonna faint Nick," Heath protested. "Quit yer fussing."

"You realize the way you're stopping to take a breath after each word doesn't exactly fill me with confidence." Nick uncapped the canteen and held it out to Heath. "And if you think this is fussing, wait till Mother sees you. The way you're wheezing, you'll be lucky if she doesn't drag you to bed by your ear."

"She's a fine woman, your mother." Heath coughed and rubbed his chest absentmindedly for a moment before taking the canteen. "I don't like to worry her."

"Our mother. You're a Barkley, Heath. You're her son too, same as the rest of us."

"I know," Heath admitted in between sips of water. "Don't have to keep telling me that."

"So you claim, but I know how hard it is to get something into that stubborn head of yours so I thought I better repeat myself."

Heath chuckled faintly, rubbing his chest again before taking another swig. "You're saying I'm the stubborn one?"

Nick grumbled good-naturedly. Heath did have a point. Out of all of them, Nick had been the one who'd kept insisting Heath wasn't a Barkley and didn't deserve a place with them, despite what all the others said, despite what his own instincts had begun to say. Jarrod had always called him mule-headed and, in this case, Nick had gone and proved him right. It was humbling, that when Nick was finally man enough to admit his mistake Heath had brushed it off, seeming to forget the way Nick had treated him and just accepted him as a brother. "Maybe I am stubborn, but at least I can admit when I'm hurt."

Heath seemed to fight with himself for moment before finally sighing and giving in. "I am feeling a mite poorly."

"Yeah, well, you're looking more than a mite poorly," Nick teased as his hand brushed over Heath's as he grabbed back the canteen. "Damn it, your fingers are like ice."

"Getting tossed in a river'll… do that to a man." Heath tucked his hand under his armpit as he shrugged. "Gloves were soaked through so I took them off."

Nick took a good, long look at his brother and didn't like what he saw. Heath was shivering, unusually pale, and had a worrying flush of oncoming fever high on his cheeks. "You going to be able to make it back to the house?"

"I can make it," Heath insisted, straightening up to sit properly in the saddle. It was a good show, but Nick had been dealing with the Barkley brand of stubborn his whole life and he could see right through it.

"Of course you can," Nick groused. "Shove forward."

"What?"

Reaching over, Nick wound his horse's reins around Heath's pommel then grabbed it and, in a quick maneuver, slung himself off his own horse and onto the back of Heath's. Wrapping his arms around his brother, he pulled the reins right out of his hands.

"Nick!" Heath sounded mad, but, to be fair, he kind of had a right to be.

"You'll be warmer this way," Nick explained. He pulled Heath right up against him, hissing a little at the cold that seeped through his shirt as a result.

"You think you know everything."

"Not everything, just more than you."

"Now wait a-" Heath started to say, but whatever Nick was supposed to be waiting for didn't come. Instead he began coughing again and kept coughing and coughing, barely getting a breath in between. Eventually they began to ease off and Heath slumped against Nick with a tired sigh.

"Just lean against me, little brother. I got you," Nick said as he urged the horse into a canter. "Let's get you home."