“Scott, something needs to be done.”
“Agreed, little brother, and I’m about to do it.”
Scott studied the checkerboard intently as his opponent grew impatient.
“A man could grow cobwebs waitin’ for you.”
“It’s called strategy, Jelly. Strategy and patience; how all great conquests are won.”
Johnny snagged an empty chair and flanked the checkered battleground.
“Boston, this is important."
“So is my next move which will win me the afternoon off and a nice cold beer.”
Jelly snorted. “Sure of that are we?”
Scott smiled. “I am. A bet is a bet. Don’t be a sore loser.”
“Don’t be relaxin’ and a tastin’. You ain’t cleared this board yet.”
“Watch and learn, Jelly.”
Scott’s hand slowly went for his black checker as Jelly leaned in.
“Scott, she’s like a dog with a bone.”
The two gambling adversaries froze, exchanged glances and grins. Suddenly, the thrill of victory stepped aside to permit the possibilities of a more insightful afternoon to occur.
“Jelly, is my little brother referring to the darlin' Kinsey Rose? The apple of his eye? The song in his heart?"
“Well, I’m thinkin’ he is but I’m confused. I thought it was puppy love.”
Eyebrows were raised. “Maybe he’s in the doghouse?”
“Sad day when a fine gentleman like your brother has gone to the dogs.”
Turning to the younger man, his older brother scolded, “Johnny, haven’t I told you it's best to let sleeping dogs lie?”
The brotherly stare-down lasted only a few moments before dimples gave way to snickers from Scott’s stern persona.
“Dammit, Scott, this is serious.”
“I know! My relaxing afternoon of slow inebriation is being delayed.”
“Kinsey’s insisting I have a middle name.”
Scott sat back to anticipate a thoroughly enjoyable conversation with his brother. “So, I hear. In fact, I have reviewed her list. There are some strong possibilities. What’s your opinion, my whiskered friend.”
“I voted for John Archibald.”
Johnny squinted. “Said the man named Jellifer.”
The man named Jellifer ruffled. “I beg your pardon. That there is a distinguished family name. And can we please get on with this game? Day’s a wastin’.”
Realizing Jelly's squawking would not take flight until the man's checkers disappeared, Scott picked up his game piece and cleared the board in three jumps. “Leave the money on the table, Jelly. I believe my little brother could also benefit from some tastin’ and relaxin’.”
In Scott's opinion, the San Joaquin Valley had outdone itself in delivering the perfect afternoon for a ride into town. The sky welcomed a few white clouds to emphasize it's deep blue hue while a slight breeze carried the scent that only the mingling of grasses and wildflowers could produce. The methodic cadence of their horses added the counterpoint to the birds' melodic messages. Indeed, it was a far cry from the dismal, damp days of Boston. During this time Johnny was in no hurry to talk, which was fine with Scott. Strategy and patience won more than battles and checkers.
Confident the beginnings of a long afternoon would inspire the patience, the first cold beer placed in front of his little brother was the key to Scott's strategy. The wait was not long, however, the question was unexpected.
"Tell me, you ever let Jelly win at checkers?"
Scott slowly took a sip before replying. "Why do you ask?"
"I thought Rule Number Seven was don't answer a question with a question."
"I'm not conversing with Murdoch."
Johnny grinned as he studied the latest patron to enter the saloon. "Quit stallin' and answer the question. I saw the checkerboard. That game shoulda ended long before I sat down."
Scott's fingers encircled his mug as he observed its contents. "Yes, on occasion I have let Jelly win."
"Why?"
The older brother shrugged and treated his dry throat to another cool swallow. "Sometimes winning isn't important."
Scott watched his younger brother focus on two more thirsty men walk to the bar before asking his next question.
"Have you ever thrown the game when we've played?"
"No."
"Why?"
"You enjoy the win too much."
"Yeah." Turning his attention back to his brother, Johnny agreed to the previous statement by holding up his beer as if offering a toast. "I believe I do." Readjusting his hat, Johnny leaned back. "How do you know when to let Kinsey win?"
"When I'm not in the mood to dodge a flying game board ." Scott acknowledged his little brother's stare with raised eyebrows. "Oh, we're no longer talking about checkers, are we?" Scott downed the last of his beer."So, why don't you tell me what we are talking about, little brother."
"How you handle Kinsey; how do you rope her in and corral her."
"And then lasso and brand her? Listen to yourself. It's not about losing or corralling; it's about negotiating and compromising. Sometimes it's not about enjoying the win."
"Well, Scott, she gets an idea hammered in her head and a crowbar can't pry it out."
The older brother sighed, "All right, mending fences. Let's talk about that." Two more beers we’re fetched.
Riding back, Scott was the first to spy Kinsey sitting on the fence near the outer gate as the brothers' time of tastin' and relaxin' gave way to the long shadows of late afternoon. Sidling up beside her, Scott offered his hand to swing his cousin behind him for the ride in.
"How long have you been out here waiting?
"Not long."
"That fresh crop of freckles and sunburned nose are telling me something different."Scott sensed a rolling of the eyes and the making of a face were occurring behind his back.
"Johnny, wait until I show you what I discovered!"
The younger brother adjusted his hat to mask his pained expression. "I'm sure it's extraordinary half-pint."
Kinsey hit the ground running before their horses were tied up to return holding a small book. "The Book of Saints. I found it among Murdoch's collections."
Scott frowned "And you have permission to remove books from Murdoch's library?"
Thumbing through the book, intent on finding the right page, Kinsey avoided making eye contact with her older cousin. "Honestly Scott. Why wouldn't I?"
'Appears old number seven is the rule to break today.'
"Here it is! Johnny look! It's Saint Dagobert the Second. He's your Saint's Day in December! Johnny Dagobert Lancer." Kinsey triumphantly presented the book for all to see.
Johnny squinted for a closer look. “Dagobert." Hoping his older brother could offer assistance, Scott was currently focused on his thumbnail. "Darlin', I've been thinkin'. Most men don't get the opportunity to pick out their middle name. They mostly get what their ma and pa thought would be good; didn't matter what the kid wanted. Now, I appreciate all the work you put into this but if you don't mind, I'd like to decide what people call me. So, why don't you hand me over that book."
Hesitating at first, Kinsey placed her latest discovery in Johnny's outstretched hand. "And while we're at it, half-pint, how about givin' me that list I know you have in your back pocket."
Reluctantly, the little cousin surrendered the well-folded list. "I never needed a middle name nor do I want one." Glancing at his older brother, the younger one flashed his sly grin and continued. "But considerin' you have your heart set on this, I will compromise and have a middle name. And darlin' I pick it, not you. Agreed?"
Kinsey thoughtfully shook her head in agreement. “Yes, of course, this should be your decision. Agreed! You can make your announcement tonight after supper. Let me tell Maria there will be a celebration!”
Johnny’s pained expression returned.
Watching his cousin disappear into the shadows of the kitchen’s open back door, Scott slapped his brother on the shoulder. “I think that went well. Looking forward to the announcement tonight, Johnny.”
Scott was reminded of a child on Christmas morning; Kinsey’s body language shouted excited anticipation as she watched Johnny finish his dinner.
Johnny, on the other hand, was playing devil’s advocate by meticulously cutting his steak and chewing each piece with the utmost grace and style. Finally, as the last bite was forked and consumed, Kinsey tapped her knife against her wine glass. “Everyone, Johnny has made his decision.”
Wiping his mouth, Johnny stood and cleared his throat. “I’ve given this a whole lot a thought and…well, I would like my middle name to be ‘Valens’. If you want to shorten that down to just ‘Val’ that would be fine with me.”
Smiling, Scott stood and held up his wine glass. “I like it! John Valens Lancer, we salute you! Someone uncork another bottle!”
Later in the evening, Johnny found his older brother outside enjoying an expensive cigar courtesy of Murdoch.
“Old man know you pilfered one of those?”
“No, actually,” Scott pulled out another cigar and handed it to his brother. “the old man doesn’t know I pilfered two. That was a nice compromise, Johnny. Told you sometimes winning isn’t important.”
“I still enjoyed the win, Boston. See the smile on her face?”
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