Brisco County Sr. was almost home when he heard a child crying. He pulled his horse to a stop and cocked his head to listen. The sobbing seemed to be emanating from the bushes on his right. Brisco dismounted. He found Annie Cavanaugh sprawled on the ground beneath a bush, crying as if her heart would break.
"Annie!" Brisco said, running a gentle hand over her blonde head. "Are you all right? Are you hurt?"
Annie lifted her head, but when she realized who crouched near her, her sobs increased and she flung herself back to the ground. "Oh Mr. County! I killed him!" she wailed.
"Killed him?" Brisco was completely baffled. He poked the brim of his hat up with his forefinger. "Who?"
"Brisco."
Brisco Sr. nearly sat down in shock. "What happened?" he finally asked.
"He was making eyes at the new girl in school," Annie hiccuped. "And I hit him with my schoolbooks."
"That shouldn't have killed him," Brisco Sr. said gently, more for his own comfort than for Annie's.
"But Brisco fell down," Annie wailed. "And he was bleeding bad."
"C'mon," Brisco Sr. said, helping the girl to her feet. "Let's get you home before your parent worry where you are." He set the girl behind the saddle and climbed onto the horse. Brisco turned Bart's head back towards Echo Valley, away from the direction of his home. It was easily the hardest thing he'd ever done.
On the way back to town, Annie suddenly let go of his waist and pointed. "He's gone!" she cried.
"What are you talking about?" Brisco Sr. said gruffly.
"Brisco's gone. This is where I hit him!"
County stopped the horse and leaned over to look at the tracks. There was a lot of blood, but it looked as though his son had gotten to his feet and had walked home.
As Brisco and Annie approached the Cavanaugh house, Annie's parents rushed out the door.
"Annie!" Margaret Cavanaugh cried. "Where have you been? I've been worried sick!"
"Go easy on her, Maggie," Brisco said gently. "She's had a rough afternoon."
Bob Cavanaugh swung his red-eyed daughter off the horse, his eyes meeting Brisco's in puzzlement. As his wife ushered Annie into the house, Bob said, "Thanks for bringing Annie home, Brisco."
"I'm not sure I feel the same," his friend replied. "Annie claims she just killed my son."
"Brisco!" Bob gasped. "He isn't, is he?"
"I don't know," Brisco shrugged. "I haven't been home yet."
"Why are you still here?"
"Oh, I don't think Brisco's dead," Brisco Sr. said. "Annie showed me where it happened. It looked like he got up and walked home."
"I hope he's okay, Brisco," Bob said.
"Thanks." His friend gave him a tired smile and turned his horse towards home.
Mary Beth County met her husband on the front porch when she heard the approaching hoof beats. Brisco came off the horse and was on the porch in two steps.
"I heard about Brisco," he said in concern as he hugged and kissed his wife. "Is he okay?"
Mary Beth gave him a comforting smile. "He's got a nasty gash on his chin and he's embarrassed beyond belief, but I think he'll be fine. How did you find out?"
"I found Annie Cavanaugh crying her eyes out. She said she killed Brisco." Brisco Sr. grimaced. "As much as I wanted to ride out here and find Brisco, I thought I'd better get Annie home before Maggie got frantic."
"Did Annie tell you what happened?" his wife asked. "All I can get out of Brisco is that she hit him."
"She said that she was mad at Brisco for making eyes at a new girl in school. She hit him with her school books."
"Oh!" Mary Beth said, suddenly enlightened. "The buckle on the book strap must have caught him on the chin. I couldn't for the life of me figure out how Annie could hit Brisco and leave a gash like that." She laughed quietly. "It's Louise Abernathy all over again."
"A pile of school books are a lot harder than a bucket of water," Brisco pointed out. He nodded towards the house. "Did you put him to bed?"
"No. He's sitting at the kitchen table where I can keep an eye on him. Don't snap at him, Brisco," Mary Beth warned.
"I won't. I figure he's been through enough today."
Brisco stopped dead in the kitchen doorway. His son was sitting at the table, idly swinging his feet and holding a piece of ice wrapped in a towel to his chin. The towel and the boy's shirtfront were saturated with blood. Brisco Sr. could only imagine what Mary Beth must have thought when young Brisco came home.
"Hello, son," he said finally. The boy's head came up. Brisco Sr. saw pain in those dark eyes. "I'm sure glad to find you alive. Annie told me she killed you."
"No sir," young Brisco mumbled, hampered by the swelling of his jaw. "She just hit me."
Brisco Sr. sat down next to the boy. "Can I see it?" he asked gently. Young Brisco carefully removed the ice. The gash was nasty looking, running down the left side of his chin. At least it had stopped bleeding.
"I'm afraid you're going to have a scar," his father commented. "And your head's gonna hurt like hell tomorrow."
"Worse than it does now?" the boy asked.
"Probably. It looks like it's stopped bleeding. Are you able to walk? We probably ought to wash the blood off and change your shirt."
"Yes sir." Brisco Jr. gingerly slid off the chair. His mother took the towel from him and placed it in the sink. Brisco Sr. placed his hand on the boy's shoulder and guided him to his room. He was so relieved that his son was alive that he could barely register his surroundings.
"Can you help me with the buttons, Dad?" Young Brisco's voice brought him back to his senses. "My fingers are too numb from the ice."
"Sure." He knelt and unbuttoned the shirt, then carefully pulled the boy's undershirt over his head. Brisco Sr. opened and closed the bureau drawers until he located a clean shirt.
"Do you want to help me with Bart?" he asked as he buttoned the shirt. "I've ridden pretty hard today so I could get home."
"Yes sir."
Brisco Sr. carefully led his son outside to the porch, stopping in the kitchen to
tell Mary Beth their plans. As he lifted young Brisco to the saddle, Bart whickered nervously.
"I'm okay, Bart," Brisco Jr. said, as if explaining to the horse. "I got in a fight with Annie."
His father watched the exchange open-mouthed. It was positively eerie how the boy talked to horses and they seemed to answer. He needed to nip this in the bud before people thought the boy was mad. "Brisco," he warned.
Brisco Jr. looked up in surprise. He'd forgotten what his parents often warned him about. "Sorry sir." Bart murmured what sounded like an apology.
"You too," Brisco Sr. told the horse as he gathered up the reins and led Bart to the barn. Inside, he gave the horse a flake of hay to keep him busy, then dragged the tack box alongside the horse. He helped his son off the horse and set him up with a currycomb. Although the boy was tall for a nine-year-old, he still had to stand on top of the tack box to reach Bart's back.
"The same thing happened to me," his father said as he lifted Bart's front hoof and dug out the dirt with a hoof pick.
"Really?" his son stopped brushing. "How come you don't have a scar?"
A laugh burbled out of Brisco Sr. against his will. "Well, son, in my case it was a bucket of water instead of a schoolbook strap. When I was courting your mother, she was rooming with a girl named Louise Abernathy. They worked together in a sweatshop. Now Louise was pretty, but she was a flirt. Seemed like every time I tried to visit your mother, Louise would get in the way."
"Was she prettier than Ma?"
Brisco Sr. stood up and looked his son in the eye. "No woman could compare to your mother, Brisco. Every time she walked into a room, it seemed, I don't know, brighter somehow." He smiled wistfully. "She's still like that."
Brisco Jr. could only nod. That's the way she always seemed to him, too.
"I finally got up the nerve to ask your mother to marry me. I was walking to her apartment when I ran into Louise. She tried to change my mind, tried to convince me that I should court her instead. I told her no."
"Your mother must have seen us talking down there on the street. She was so jealous that when I got closer to the building, she dumped a bucket of water on me."
"What did you do?" his son asked, wide-eyed.
"Only thing I could do," Brisco Sr. replied. "I went to the apartment door, apologized for what seemed like forever, and finally slid the ring under the door."
"It worked?"
Brisco Sr. grinned. "You're here, aren't you? Listen. You can look at other girls. That's only natural. There'd be something wrong with you if you didn't. But try to see it like Annie sees it. She thinks you're going to go off with some one else and not be her friend anymore."
"But I am her friend!" young Brisco exclaimed indignantly.
Brisco Sr. sighed. How in the hell do you tell your son about women when you barely understand them yourself? "You know that, and I know that, but girls need to be told. And son," he added sternly. "If you do look at another girl, make sure Annie doesn't catch you. She might throw something more lethal at you next time."
After supper, Mary Beth sent young Brisco to bed early, and he was only too ready to comply. His father read to him while he lay in bed, but he fell asleep before Brisco Sr. finished the first chapter.
The Countys were sitting on the front porch when Bob Cavanaugh rode up.
"How's young Brisco?" he asked as he dismounted.
"Sore, but he'll live," Brisco replied.
"I apologize for Annie's behavior," Bob went on, hat in hand.
"Bob," Mary Beth said. "It's over and done with. Brisco's more embarrassed than anything else."
"Embarrassed?" Bob looked from one to the other.
"What if Mary Beth here were to slug you," Brisco said, pointing at Bob with his pipe stem. "Wouldn't you be embarrassed?"
"Well," Bob couldn't imagine tiny Mary Beth County knocking him down, but then again, he never thought that his wildcat of a daughter would knock young Brisco off his feet. "I suppose I would be."
"Then it's settled." Mary Beth stood. "Let me get Annie's books for you to take home with you."
After she left, Bob started to apologize again, but Brisco cut him off. "Bob. We've been friends too long to let this ruin our friendship. I saw how upset Annie was---she's learned her lesson. I had a talk with Brisco. He'll be more cautious from now on."
After Bob Cavanaugh went home, Brisco told Mary Beth what he'd told their son in the barn that afternoon.
"I wish it had been a bucket of water for young Brisco today," Mary Beth sighed. "He's going to have a permanent scar."
"It'll give him character," her husband said. "Who knows? It might make him famous some day."
"Oh you!" Mary Beth smacked his arm fondly. "You're so full of it." Brisco Sr. just chuckled as he sat back and puffed his pipe.
