The Prodigal's Brother - A Short Story

Part One

Carson shook his head. "No. You can't let him do this."

Flynn's smile was triumphant across the table. "You don't get a say, Carson. Pop's right. It's mine to do with as I please."

Pa stood from the table and walked down the hallway. Carson heard the door to his office open, then lost hope altogether.

"Flynn," Carson's tone was severe and menacing. "If you do this, you'll ruin him. We won't have enough land to keep up our herd. We'll have to sell off half of it and the profits won't be near enough to buy the land we would need to recuperate the numbers."

"Don't be greedy, Carson," Flynn shot back. "He has more than he needs and so do you. This is the only way I can get what I want."

Pa walked back into the room, his face sullen, and gave Flynn a paper, yellowed with age. "After your mother died, I split everything I had between the two of you. There's your share of the land, and this-" Pa gave Flynn an envelope "-is half of all the money I have to my name. It's yours, as it's always been."

Carson felt physically sick. There was no way the Wyatt Ranch could recover from losing half of their assets. They were doomed.

- - - - -

Flynn took his money and was gone within the week. Carson set out immediately to help the stock keepers move their herd of over 10,000 longhorns out west toward Hanson's water supply. Pa rode out to make a deal with Hanson the day after Flynn sold out. It was Carson's job to cull the stock keepers until they had only what they needed. That meant several men were sent packing without so much as a horse, just a dusty saddle slung over their shoulder and a few dollars to their names. Driven to compassion for the sons and fathers sent home practically penniless to their families, Carson dipped into his savings to give them each some money to carry their families over until they found more work. With each forlorn expression that got sent away from the ranch, Carson got a little more bitter toward his selfish sibling. Flynn had ruined them all.

One night two weeks later, the bright navy sky boasting a full moon and legions of stars spread out above Carson. The gentle braying of the cattle in the distance calmed him as he stared into the fire beside his bedroll.

"What's gonna happen to the place, Carson?" One of the stock keepers asked from the other side of the fire.

Carson didn't look Gabe Williams in the eye. He couldn't. "I don't know," was his reply, "We're going to take however many head we decide to sell into Sagebrush in a few weeks. We'll see how much we get before we decide how we're gonna move forward."

Gabe sighed. "I always had an uneasy feeling about that brother of yours. I never met a boy who wanted money so bad but didn't want to work."

Carson sat up and crossed his legs. "He's spoiled. Always has been. I guess it's my fault for picking up the slack for him all the time. I should have made him pull his own weight."

"Nothing we can do about this now. Just gotta make sure we keep these cattle fat and happy." The resigned peace in Gabe's tone instilled just a little hope in Carson.

Maybe one day they could rebuild the herd and he could start saving to buy the Old Homestead again. That was the one part of the ranch that hadn't been divided between them as boys. The Old Homestead was a special part of Wyatt history, situated on the corner of his father's property with plenty of unclaimed around it for a man to build his own spread. Though, Carson never intended to strike out on his own. His father would be needing a foreman who knew the ranch inside and out. It was his every intention to start his own family and work as an equal partner with his father for the best of the Wyatt Ranch. A son should look after his father's livelihood, especially when he was the only family the old man had left.