Word Count 452
Lancer Writers Challenge 2009 George’s Rules of Etiquette
Johnny eased Scott off his horse, holding tight until the man got his bearings. Arm wrapped around Scott, Johnny guided his brother slowly into the hacienda and lowered him onto the sofa. “Easy now. How’s that feel? Hang on, I’ll get you some water.”
Scott watched with bemusement as Johnny went through his litany. Finally seeing his opportunity, he spoke up. “I’m not dying, you know.”
Johnny was halfway back from the sideboard with a glass of water when he heard his brother. Scowling, he paused in his trek then proceeded to the sofa more slowly. “Maybe not,” he started as he handed Scott the glass, “But you hit your head so we can’t be too careful.”
Scott inhaled the water then set the glass down. “My head is too hard to be bothered.”
“This isn’t a joke, Scott! You could have a concussion!”
Murdoch stood in the doorway and listened to the conversation, raising a brow at Johnny’s proclamation. He stepped into the room and took stock of his older son. “What happened?”
“My horse spooked and threw me. I’m just a little banged up,” Scott shrugged.
“He was knocked out for a good minute,” Johnny retorted.
Scott rolled his eyes and looked at his father. “Really, Sir, it’s nothing. If you listen to Johnny, I’m on my death bed.”
Murdoch’s lips quirked as he looked at Scott then Johnny. He saw the anger and concern on his second-born’s face and had some sympathy. “I’m sure Johnny is only looking out for your best interests, Son.”
“My interests would be best served by not being coddled,” Scott said brusquely.
Johnny put his hands on his hips and frowned. “Fine! You wanna sit there and act like there’s nothing wrong, go ahead. But don’t come crying to me when you fall over with a concussion!”
With a smirk, Scott said, “In visiting the sick, do not presently play the physician if you be not knowing therein.”
Murdoch bit his lip and turned to find a puzzled look on Johnny’s face.
“What the hell does that mean?” the younger man demanded.
Calmly, Scott explained. “It means you aren’t a doctor and you shouldn’t be making medical diagnoses, brother.”
Johnny appeared flummoxed for a moment and Murdoch thought Scott had gone too far. He opened his mouth but never got the chance to speak as Johnny’s eyes lit up.
“I’m not a pig farmer either but, I can sure recognize a pile of shit when I smell it.” With that, he leaned in close to Scott, sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose before giving a smirk and walking out of the room.
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