BONDS OF STEEL

 

By:  Kenda

 

(Missing Scene From The Aired Episode:  The Iron Box)

 

 

 

 

 

     The first thing I saw as my horse rounded the corner of the building was Nick crouched on his knees with our brother Heath cradled in his arms.  Nick's been a formidable personality since the day he was born.  It's rare to see fear openly displayed on his face.  But that night I saw nothing less than pure terror in his eyes as he brushed a hand through Heath's hair while attempting to beg our brother to consciousness by calling into his ear, "Heath!  Heath!" over and over again.

 

     I jumped from my mount and ran toward them.  I needed no explanation regarding what had happened since I'd left the grounds nine hours earlier.  The iron box Heath's lower body was hidden within told the story.

 

     My brothers had been wrongfully imprisoned by a crooked sheriff who was in cahoots with a local cattleman and the prison warden.  The cattleman, Harlan McGowan, had himself a nice deal worked out.  He accused innocent men of bogus crimes that got them arrested and sent to a work camp.  A work camp that, conveniently enough, provided labor on his thousands of acres of property.  The man was quite wealthy and paid Sheriff LeRoy Bonds and Warden Charles Risley lucratively for their silence.  Nick and Heath's only crime had been to buy a bull from McGowan.  He told them he was out of receipt pads, that they could go ahead and take the animal without a bill of sale in their possession.  Unfortunately, he didn't tell them he planned to report the animal as stolen within five minutes of them leaving his ranch.

 

     I was lucky to discover where my brothers were three days after the arrests.  I arrived at the prison at four o'clock the next afternoon, just as the work detail was returning.  Nick was helping Heath off the wagon when I caught sight of them.  Heath's right leg was badly burned.  I found out later that happened the night of the arrest when he'd rolled into the campfire during the struggle with the sheriff's men.  The leg hadn't been treated by a doctor, nor had the torn skin on his back where a whip had been lashed across it twenty-five times two days earlier.  The first thing Nick said to me when I reached them was, "He's very sick, Jarrod."

 

     Very sick was right.  I helped Nick support our brother by holding onto Heath's left biceps.  He was wearing a shirt, but even so I could feel the heat radiating from his body.  He didn't say a word to me the entire time Nick and I talked.  When I told Heath to hang on, that I'd be back with the circuit judge as soon as I could, he looked at me through fever-glazed eyes and nodded his head.  Nonetheless, I was left uncertain as to if he really knew what I had said, or if he even knew who I was.

 

     Aside from Judge Bentley, a U.S. marshal, and eight deputies, I had the foresight to bring a doctor back to the prison with me.  I knelt down by Heath's side and took the burden of his limp body from Nick who moved out of the way to make room for Doctor Keltin. 

 

     "Everything's going to be all right, Heath."  I spoke with far more assurance to my semi-conscious sibling than I was feeling.  "I brought a doctor. He'll have you back on your feet in no time."

 

     As the doctor unfastened the latch on his medical bag I wondered if there was an ounce of truth to what I'd just said to Heath.  He was so hot just touching him was like placing your hand on top of a cook stove. Being a lawyer I well knew what happened to a man who was locked in one of those iron boxes.  If left inside long enough his skin could literally burn as though he'd been working under a desert sun all day.  His tongue became so swollen he couldn't talk.  What little saliva he could work up he'd be unable to swallow.  Eventually his body temperature would rise to the point that brain damage could occur.  For the past year I'd been on a state committee that was fighting for humane treatment of the men and women in our prison system.  The iron box was one of the things I was working hard to outlaw.

 

     I looked up at Nick.  "How long has he been in this thing?"

 

     "They put him in it no more than ten minutes after you left."

 

     "Dammit, Nick!  I told you not to antagonize Risley!"

 

     "I didn't antagonize him!  I didn't do a thing but get Heath settled on his bunk.  They came to get us for dinner right after that.  The guards told me I could leave Heath there to rest.  That I could bring food for him.  Right then I should have known it was a trap of some sort!  When they brought us back to the cabin he was gone.  Risley popped his head in then and gloated like a weasel when he told me where Heath was."

 

     I looked down at the man whose upper body I was supporting for the doctor.  If I hadn't come on prison property demanding to see my siblings would they have left Heath alone?  I thought I was doing Nick and Heath a favor by letting Risley know I was a lawyer and was well aware he'd falsely imprisoned my brothers.  Now I realized what a foolish mistake that had been. 

 

     Nick must have been able to read the expression on my face.

 

     "Jarrod, don't.  It wasn't your fault."

 

     "I'm sorry," I said to both Heath and Nick at the same time.  And I was sorry.  Sorry that I had yelled at Nick for something he didn't cause in the first place, and sorry that my presence had only brought Heath further problems.

 

     "Jarrod, look--"

 

     Before Nick could finish his sentence the doctor interrupted us.

 

     "Gentlemen, let's not waste time worrying about who's to blame for what.  Right now your brother needs your help if he's going to live through the remainder of the night."

 

     As deputies swarmed the area rounding up Risley and the prison guards Nick crouched down so he was level with the physician and me.

 

     "What are you saying, doc?"

 

     "I'm saying this man is gravely ill.  First and foremost we have to get him cooled off.  His body temperature is dangerously high."  Doctor Keltin looked at Nick.  "You, Mr. Barkley, take his legs."   He turned to me.   "And you, Mr. Barkley, grab him under the shoulders."

 

     "I'm Jarrod," I said in an attempt to alleviate the confusion.  "That Mr. Barkley is my younger brother Nick."  I looked down at the man in my arms.  "And this man is a younger brother to both of us.  Heath."

 

     The doctor nodded.  "Okay then, Jarrod, you take Heath's upper body like I said.  Nick, you carry him by draping his knees over your arms.  Whatever you do be careful of that burnt leg."

 

     "I will."

 

     The doctor moved out of our way.  "On the count of three, gentlemen.  One, two, three."

 

     When the man said "three" Nick and I lifted Heath from the dirt.  If we were causing him any pain he didn't indicate it, which worried me more than if he would have let out a bloodcurdling scream.

 

     Doctor Keltin looked around a moment then directed us to the house that had been occupied by Risley.  Nick was somewhat familiar with it.  We carried Heath through the immaculate office, Nick leading the way to a flight of stairs.

 

     "I think there's a couple bedrooms up there."

 

     The doctor grabbed a lamp off Risley's desk and charged ahead of us.  "Yes, yes!  Come on, gentlemen, up the stairs and to your left.  There's a big room right here with a double bed."

 

     By the time we entered the room the doctor had the bed turned down.  The sheets were clean, crisp and sparkling white.  I could easily guess the prisoners on laundry duty were made to change Risley's bed on a daily basis.

 

     A voice shouted from below.  "Mr. Barkley!  The judge wanted me to find out if there's anything you need for your brother!"

 

     I looked at Doctor Keltin. 

 

     "Tell him cold water and plenty of it.  Buckets of it straight from the well.  Also two pans of warm water so I can clean his back and leg.  I assume one of those buildings out there houses laundry.  Tell him we need clean cloths of some sort.  Towels would fit the bill perfectly, or sheets cut into squares about three feet by three feet in size.  Anything at all that we can use to wipe your brother down with."

 

     I relayed the message to the deputy below.  He nodded and smiled.

 

     "I know some former prison guards who are looking for ways to be useful.  I'll get them right on it."

 

     The doctor dug in his bag.  He handed Nick a pair of scissors.  "Pull Heath's boots off then cut away his pants and shirt."

 

     "His pants?  But the pant leg where he's burnt is already gone."

 

     "I realize that.  But we need to get the rest of those clothes off him.   Whatever we can do to aid in bringing his body temperature down must be done and done quickly."

 

     Nick nodded his head and grabbed the heel of Heath's right boot.  I grabbed the left one.

 

     The doctor had set the lamp on the bed side table when he walked in the room.  He crossed to the maple dresser and lit the lamp that resided there as well.  He spread items from his bag on top of the dresser while I undid Heath's belt buckle and worked the belt through his pant loops.

 

     By the time we had Heath laying naked on the bed the bucket brigade arrived.  Four buckets of water were brought into the room along with a stack of towels various sizes.  The deputy who had hailed me from the bottom of the stairs poked his head in the door.

 

     "I have one of the men working on warming that water right now, doc.  I assume you don't want it so hot you can't put your hands in it."

 

     "Correct.  I need to be able to use it when the time comes.  Have the man take it off the stove short of a boil.  Tell him to pour it in two pans and cover them with lids so the water stays warm."

 

     "I'll do that.  We'll bring everything up when it’s ready." 

 

      The deputy disappeared down the stairs again.  The doctor directed Nick and me to the buckets.

 

     "Jarrod, you grab a bucket and a towel and start sponging down the right side of Heath's body.  Nick, you do the same on his left."

 

     We did as the man instructed.  I soaked another towel in the frigid water and laid it across Heath's forehead.  His eyes opened a mere slit at my touch.  I smiled down at him.

 

     "Hey, brother Heath." 

 

     I hoped he'd recognize the phrase and therefore identify me as the speaker.  I was four and a half when Nick was born.  For whatever reason I referred to my new baby brother as 'Brother Nick', as though it was his proper name.  Or as my father was often fond of teasing, as though he was a monk.  As we'd grown into a adulthood it was a phrase I still occasionally used with both Nick and my youngest brother Gene.  Heath had been with us for a little over a year now.  I couldn't ever recall having referred to him in such a manner.  That night I decided it was well past time he knew just what an important place he had in my heart.  A place that held just as much room and love for him as it did for Nick, Eugene and Audra.

 

     I saw him mouth 'Jarrod' though no sound came out.

 

     "Yes, it's me, Heath.  It's Jarrod.  You're going to be fine.  I've got a doctor here who's tending to you.  Nick's here, too."

 

     Though his eyes remained more closed than open I saw him searching the room.  Again his mouth moved, forming the word 'Nick' this time.

 

     "I'm here, Heath," Nick laid a hand on his shoulder.  "I'm right beside you.  You close your eyes now and rest.  You'll feel better when you wake up."

 

     He finally pushed out a hoarse word we could hear. 

 

     "Hot."

 

     "I know you're hot."  Nick dipped his towel in water and ran it over Heath's face and neck.  "Jarrod and I are working on bringing your temperature down.  Relax now.  Rest."

 

     Through split, dry lips he mumbled,  "Water?"

 

     Nick looked up at the doctor.  "Can I give him a drink?"

 

     "You can try."  The man turned from his medical bag.  "Go down to the kitchen and get a glass.  If he can't drink from it we’ll simply squeeze some water into his mouth from a clean cloth."

 

     Nick nodded his head and sprinted from the room.  I continued to sponge Heath off while Nick rummaged in the kitchen.  I heard the squeak of the pump at the kitchen sink, then Nick thundering up the stairs.

 

     He entered the room with a glass that was half full.  He resumed his position on the side of the bed opposite me.  I slid a hand behind Heath's head and lifted just enough so his lips touched the glass Nick held.

 

     Nick slowly tipped the goblet.  "Heath, here's the water you asked for." 

 

     I could tell Heath was trying to drink the liquid, but whether he was too weak, or his lips too dry, or his tongue too swollen, I wasn't certain.  Water dribbled out the corners of his mouth and fell to the pillow.  He was angry with himself for not being able to swallow it. He moved his head back and forth in my hands while pounding a weak fist against the mattress and making a growling noise deep in his throat.

 

     "No, no," I soothed.  "Don't get upset.  It's okay.  We'll try something else."

 

     The doctor stepped over to the bed.  "Tilt his head back, Jarrod.  That will force his mouth open.  Nick, you squeeze some water in like I mentioned before.  Not too much because he might not be able to swallow.  The last thing he needs is to choke and cough."

 

     With help from Doctor Keltin we employed this method.  Though the small amount of water Nick got down Heath's throat certainly wouldn't combat dehydration, it seemed to bring some relief to our brother.  In a few moments I felt his body relax in my hands.  His eyes slid shut as he slipped into a deeper state of semi-consciousness.

 

     The doctor grabbed a towel and soaked it in water.  For the next hour he worked along with Nick and me in our efforts to bring Heath's body temperature to somewhere near normal.  The three of us barely took notice when, in the midst of all this, an armed deputy led two prison guards in the room who were carrying bowls covered with tin lids.    

 

     I was dipping my towel in water again when someone knocked on the open door. 

 

     "Jarrod?"

 

     I turned to see Judge Bentley standing there.

 

     "If I could talk to you for just a moment please."

 

     "Yes, judge."

 

     I pushed myself to a standing position, ignoring my stiff knees and sore back.  I wrung the excess water from my towel and placed it on Heath's forehead.  I looked across the bed at Nick. 

 

     "I'll be right back."

 

     Nick nodded as I turned for the door.

 

     "How's your brother?"  Edward Bentley asked.

 

     I stepped into the hall and shut the door all but a crack.  I had no idea how much of what was being said around him Heath was hearing and understanding.

 

     "Not good.  Doctor Keltin said we're in for several hours of touch and go yet before we know for certain whether or not he'll pull through.  If nothing else we have managed to bring his body temperature down considerably.  The doc's getting ready to take care of his back and leg right now."

 

     "What about brain damage from the heat inside that iron box?"

 

     I looked in through the small opening of the door.  Heath was laying so lifeless on the bed.  He hadn't said anything since he'd requested water from us over an hour earlier.

 

     "We don't know yet, Edward.  He does seem to realize Nick and I are in the room with him.  And he did say the words 'hot' and 'thirsty.’   But until he becomes far more lucid than he has been there's just no way of knowing for certain."

 

     "I'm sorry, Jarrod."

 

     I knew the man meant he was sorry that my brother was so ill and there was little anyone could do for him.  

 

     I nodded my head with thanks in response to the judge's sympathy.

 

     "I'm getting ready to ride back to town with the marshal and two of his deputies.  We've placed Risley and his guards under arrest.  They'll be coming with us.  The remainder of the deputies will stay here and take charge of the camp for the time being.  I'll be naming a temporary warden later today."

 

     "What about the men who are imprisoned here?  If Nick and Heath were falsely accused of a crime surely some of the others have been as well."

 

     "I couldn't agree with you more.  I'll be heading an investigative team that will start work within forty-eight hours.  Every man's sentence will be reviewed.  Every man's background will be gone over with a fine tooth comb.   Obviously I don't want to release anyone who may well be serving time for a crime he did commit, but neither do I want to keep any man here who was simply a victim of fraudulent circumstances like your brothers were."

 

     "Thanks, Edward."  I held out my hand.  "I can't tell you how much I appreciate your assistance.  If we hadn't gotten here when we did...well if we hadn't gotten here when we did I doubt I would have found Heath alive."

 

     The judge shook my hand.  "Don't mention it."

 

     "I assume I'll be hearing from you again at some point in the near future?"

 

     "Yes.  You and Nick will most certainly be subpoenaed to testify against Charles Risley."

 

     "And Heath as well."

 

     If the judge found my words overly optimistic he didn't show it.

 

     "Yes.  Heath as well."

 

     "I can assure you, Edward, that will be one day my brothers and I will look forward to."

 

     "I quite imagine it will be."  The judge placed his hat on his head and turned for the stairs.  "Wire me as soon as you know anything good...or otherwise, concerning Heath."

 

     "I will."

 

      I waited until the man stepped off the last stair before entering the bedroom.  A washstand complete with pitcher and bowl stood against the north wall.  The doctor had placed the pitcher and bowl on floor for the time being and was pulling the table close to the bed. 

 

     "Jarrod, pick up those two basins of water and set them on this table please."

 

     I did as the man asked.  He removed the tin lids that had been keeping the water warm.  He took a bar of soap out of his bag and removed the heavy brown wrapping.

 

     "We're going to take care of Heath's back first.  I'll wash it off with warm water, then wash it again with antibacterial soap, then wash it again without the soap."

 

     "Anti...what did you say?"  Nick asked.

 

     "Antibacterial.  In other words the ingredients in it kill any germs that might cause infection.  It's something very new to the medical community and often scoffed at by the most learned of men.  But I was a doctor in the Union Army.  I saw first hand what devastation germs can bring to the human body.   I've used soap like this with other patients and had favorable results.  It works far better than liniment and doesn't sting or burn."

 

     The doctor looked at me.  "Jarrod, get a handful of those wash cloths we haven't used yet."

 

     I crossed to the dresser and did as the man instructed.  He reached down and pulled the bed sheet up to the middle of Heath's stomach.

 

     "I think your brother's temperature has come down to the point that we can allow him some dignity."  Keltin looked from me to Nick.  "Now I need one of you to sit on the edge of the bed and lift Heath.  I want you to lean his upper body onto yours, resting his head on your shoulder."

 

     "I'll do it," Nick said before I could form a reply.  And if I had gotten the chance to reply I would have volunteered Nick for the job anyway.  He'd been uncharacteristically quiet during the past hour.  I knew he was upset and blaming himself for every bit of pain that had been inflicted on Heath.  I thought it would do him good to be physically close to our brother.  If Heath didn't make it...well if Heath didn't make it at least Nick would find solace in knowing he’d offered all of himself he could right up until the very end.

 

     Nick slipped his hands under Heath's arms.  When he lifted I supported Heath's head and neck.  When we got him settled against Nick's body I turned Heath's head so he was facing away from Nick.  I knew it would be easier for him to breath if his nose wasn't against Nick's shirt collar.

 

     The doctor dipped a washcloth in the warm water.  Heath flinched and moaned when it was applied to his back.  I hurried around to the side of the bed Nick was sitting on.  I placed a hand on Heath's head and bent to talk in his ear.

 

     "I know it hurts, Heath, but the doctor has to clean the cuts on your back."

 

     I was surprised when he gave a slight nod at my words.  His left hand rose, blindly searching the space around him.  It took me a moment to realize what he wanted.  I reached out and grasped it, encasing the palm in mine.  His other hand traveled up Nick's back.  The movement stopped when he was able to clutch a healthy chunk of shirt material in his fingers.  Nick patted one bare shoulder while running his other hand through Heath's hair.

 

     "Yeah, Heath, Jarrod and I are here.  We're here, brother.  We're not going anywhere.  We're here."

 

     Twenty minutes later the doctor was finished with Heath's back.

 

     "There.  Everything looks good and clean.  If we're lucky no infection will set in."

 

     The man moved to Heath's leg.  He rolled the sheet away from the injury and looked up at Nick.

 

     "How many days ago did he burn this?"

 

     "Four."

 

     Doctor Keltin shook his head.  "I'll warn you right now this is going to be tough on him.  Some of the material from his pant leg is melted right into the skin.  I'm going to have to get it out of there before I attempt further treatment."

 

     Nick tightened his grip on Heath.  "Let's get it over with then."

 

     The man pulled a pair of tweezers from his bag.

 

     "Nick, you and Jarrod can lay him back down on the bed.  He doesn't have to be sitting up for this."

 

     "No," Nick's response was swift and tight.  "I'll hold him."

 

     The doctor looked at me.  I nodded my head, indicating to the man that we wanted to leave Heath as he was.

 

      "Jarrod, you come around to this side of the bed and hold the lamp down here for me.  I need more light than what I have."

 

     I gave Heath's hand a squeeze before releasing it and resting it on the mattress.  I took the lamp off the dresser while the doctor grabbed a chair from the corner by the window.   He sat down with me crouched next to him.

 

     I hadn't gotten the opportunity to study Heath's leg yet, but what I saw made me wonder how he'd lasted this long without treatment.  The flesh from the knee to the middle of his shin was black, a combination of infection and the soot from the campfire. 

 

     Doctor Keltin started by gently washing the leg.  He was careful not to apply much pressure, but even so I saw Heath shift in Nick's arms as though he was trying to pull away from whatever was causing him pain.

 

     By the time the doctor was done some of the black had given way to bright red.  The burned skin looked angry and hot, but at least that was a vast improvement over the lifeless color of death from a few minutes earlier.

 

     "That's good," the man murmured as he peered at Heath's leg.  "That's very good."

 

     Nick looked down as best he could.  "What's good?"

 

     "Blisters are forming.  That's a sign of healing.  I'm not going to pop them.  We'll let nature take its course where they're concerned.  However; I do see three pieces of material we have to get out of there.  New skin is already trying to grow around them."

 

     "Won't it just push them out?"  Nick asked.

 

     "It'll try, but the odds it will be successful are slim.  Regardless, that's not a chance we want to take.  He could end up with an infection that will cost him the leg."

 

     "You're right," I assured.  "That's not a chance we want to take."

 

     The tweezers were poised in the doctor's hand.  He glanced up at Nick.  "You hold on to him good and tight because I guarantee you he's going to fight both of us on this."

 

     "I've got him."

 

     The doctor hesitated further.  He looked over his shoulder at me. 

 

     "Jarrod, pull that washstand closer to me and set the lamp on it.  I think I'd better have you down here at the end of the bed holding onto your brother's leg so he doesn't jerk it away."

 

     I did as the doctor requested.  When I got to the end of the bed I placed one hand on Heath's ankle and the other on his thigh.  I could feel him stiffen when my grip tightened.

 

"Ready, gentlemen?"

    

"Yes," I responded.

    

"Just do it," Nick urged.

    

 Heath's hands clutched the back of Nick's shirt when the doctor's probing began.  He tried to lift his head from Nick's shoulder, but Nick held it there.

 

     "No, Heath, no," Nick whispered.  "Don't move.  I know it hurts but don't fight us.  Jarrod and I are still here with you."

 

     Doctor Keltin's tweezers got a good grip on one piece of material.  Without any preamble he jerked it free of the surrounding skin.  Heath cried out and tried to yank his leg from my grip.  Both Nick and Heath are strong men, their muscles honed from the hard physical labor they do on the ranch day after day.  Despite Heath's weakened condition I had to hold on for all I was worth.

 

     "Hurry," I told the doctor.  "Let's finish this up."

 

     The man nodded.  His tweezers snared another piece of material and ripped it free.  Again Heath cried out and again Nick tried to soothe him.

 

     The remaining strip of pant leg wasn't so cooperative.  The doctor had to probe and prod to get it to come loose one tiny piece at a time.

 

     Heath was quiet through this portion of the procedure.  I thought he'd lost consciousness and would have been thankful if he had.  But then I saw his head move on Nick's shoulder. And saw his hands squeeze Nick's shirt until the knuckles turned white.  And watched his spine hunch when the tweezers dug again.  And felt his thigh muscles twitch in convulsive rhythm beneath my hand.

 

     The sky turned from black to slate grey while the doctor worked.  I knew dawn should be breaking and heard a rumble of thunder in the distance.  When the first raindrops splashed against the window Doctor Keltin laid his tweezers down.  He wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt then patted Heath's thigh.

 

     "The worst is over, gentlemen.  I'll wash the leg off then dress it with ointment.  I'm not going to bandage it at the moment.  We won't worry about doing that for several days.  Not until he's able to get up and around."

 

     Though Heath was no longer trying to fight us I continued to hold onto his leg while the doctor finished his ministrations.  When Keltin was done he stood.  He pushed the washstand out of the way and crossed to the dresser.  He began gathering up everything he'd use through the long night.  He washed each item off, dried them with a clean towel, then put them back in the bag one by one.

 

     I rounded the bed.  Heath's head still rested on Nick's shoulder.  He'd been silent and motionless for almost a half hour. I expected to see his eyes closed. 

 

     "Oh, Heath," I murmured when I caught sight of him.

 

     "What?"  Nick asked.  He strained to see what I was looking at.

 

     My eyes met Nick's.  "I thought he was unconscious."

 

     "I thought he was, too.  He's not?"

     "No."  I grabbed one of the washcloths we'd used earlier and dipped it in water that was still cool.  <