Heath regained consciousness slowly. His head felt huge. Opening his eyes, at first he couldn't focus, but then he honed in on the form of someone lying close to him on the ground. He saw that it was Eugene, his younger brother. Heath's first attempt to set up failed, but succeeding on his second try, he desperately sought to recall what had happened. And then he noticed the pistol in his hand, a pistol still smoking. He glanced again at Eugene, from whom blood flowed. "What happened?" Heath spoke aloud. "Did I shoot my own brother?"

Willing his legs to move, he stepped over to where Gene lay and knelt down. The boy had a wound in his chest. Heath knew from experience the wound had been caused by a bullet from a pistol of the same caliber as the one he, himself, used, a pistol such as the one smoking in his hand. He stood up quickly and placed his gun in the holster in wore, then knelt back down to further examine his brother.

Eugene's breathing was shallow, but shallow breathing was better than no breathing at all. "Gene!"

Heath called. "Can you hear me? I'm taking you home! I'll get a doctor!

You'll be all right! Gene!"

There was no answer, although Gene moved a bit, and he made a slight moaning sound. It was all the encouragement Heath needed.

On his feet again, the heat from the California sun assaulted Heath and he began to sway. He put his hands up to his head. Never could he remember having such a headache. If only he could recall what had led up to Eugene being shot. Did I do it? he wondered.

If so, how did I come to be unconscious? Where exactly are we? What were we doing when this happened? Why would I do such a thing?

Waves of nausea rolled over him. Uncertain if he could lift his brother in such a condition, Heath was then made to consider how he would transport the boy home. Charger came to mind.

"Charger," Heath said aloud. "I must have been riding him. Where is he?"

Looking around, Heath spied his stallion. And tied close to Charger was another horse he recognized. It was the bay Eugene rode when he was home from college, the horse, no doubt, he'd been riding today. Concentrating hard on every step, Heath walked over to the horses. If he could get his brother up on the bay and himself in the saddle on Charger's back, Gene might have a chance. He knew he had to try.

With sweat pouring into his eyes, Heath felt as though he'd been working for days. The truth was that he had no idea how long it took him to maneuver Gene across the saddle of the bay, had no idea how much longer it took him to pull himself up on Charger's back.

He did know his brother was still alive when he spurred Charger to a walk, holding the lead rope to the bay in his hand. He did know he would take the boy home to their family, a family Heath hadn't known long, a family who would demand to know how it all came about, how it was that their youngest member was shot, and by whom. And Heath had no idea how to answer.

TWO HOURS LATER

By some miracle, Heath managed to find his way to the Barkley ranch.

Enough of his memory returned as time passed to allow him to recognize the terrain, therefore to guide Charger and the bay toward help for Eugene. And now the young man was receiving care from the local doctor, and was fighting for his life in an upstairs bedroom. Relieved to have his brother in the hands of someone who could assist him medically, and in the loving hands of Victoria, his mother, Heath now set on a chair in the living room, head bowed. He wasn't alone in the room. His two older brothers, Jarrod and Nick, as well as the sheriff, Blaine Haney, were also there.

The questions had come fast and furious. Some of them Heath could answer, most he could not.

Sheriff Haney was somber after an hour of interrogation yielded no credible information as to how it came to be that Eugene Barkley was shot earlier in the day. "All right, Heath," Haney persisted now, "tell me again what happened."

Stay calm, Heath silently told himself, and then spoke aloud. "I have told you the way it was, Sheriff. I came to on the ground. I saw Eugene next to me. He'd been shot. I brought him home. I don't know who shot him or why I was unconscious."

"C'mon, Sheriff!" Nick Barkley shouted. "Arrest him! He shot Gene! The bullet came from his gun! Get it over with and get him out of here, because if that boy dies---"

Heath glanced up at the brother doing the talking. In the three weeks since his arrival here to inform the Barkleys he was one of them, it had been Nick who had been the least willing to make an effort to accept him, and, predictably, the one who seemed least willing to give him the benefit of the doubt now. Of course, Heath himself didn't know for certain that Nick's theory was not correct, didn't know for sure he deserved the benefit of the doubt.

Nick was immediately taken to task by the oldest of the Barkley sons. Jarrod, a lawyer, with, Heath had noticed, a fair mind and a methodical way of speaking and thinking, issued a stern admonishment. "Nick, that kind of talk will accomplish nothing! Please sit down. Perhaps Heath will recall something else which will help solve this mystery."

Jarrod sat directly across from Heath in a chair. Nick, pacing the floor like a caged tiger, growled at his older brother. "Jarrod, you don't believe for a minute that this--that he didn't shoot Gene! That boy is our brother, he---"

"And so is Heath our brother, Nick!" Jarrod reacted angrily. "Now sit down and let Sheriff Haney proceed!"

Heath placed his head in his hands. If only he could remember, he could put a stop to this ranting and raving by Nick and the argument between his brothers. But he couldn't remember. The last thing he recalled was eating breakfast this morning, and then coming to on the hot California ground. There was nothing in between, and he'd told this trio of men that several times now. Sheriff Haney was about to begin the questioning again. "Let's go back, Heath," said Haney. "Do you remember why you and Eugene were out there together today?"

"No!" Heath answered testily. It was the tenth time he'd answered that question.

"He knows why they were together!

"Nick!" Jarrod objected to his still pacing brother's interruption.

"He knows, Jarrod!" Nick went on. "He knows I sent them out there. It's my fault. I should have known he couldn't be trusted!"

Despite the venom contained in it, Nick's statement triggered Heath's memory slightly. A conversation came to him. He lifted his head. "There is somethin'," he said.

"What do you mean, Heath?" Jarrod coaxed. "Do you recall something?"

"The conversation with Nick, I mean, I kind of recall him tellin' me to take Gene and go check on fences."

Sheriff Haney turned to Nick. "Is that how it was?"

"Wait a minute!" Nick roared, as he walked over to where Heath set and reached out as if to grab the man with whom he was so angry. "You won't get away with this! You know dang well why you and Gene were out there! Yes, it was to check on fences, and I'll just bet the poor kid refused to do somethin' you wanted him to so you shot him!"

Jarrod came out of his chair and grabbed Nick's arm just as the latter was about to take hold of Heath. "Nick, let's remain as rational as possible, shall we? Let's give Heath a chance to explain himself."

Nick shook Jarrod's hand away roughly. "Fine. So we give him a chance to explain himself."

"Did you find any fences that needed mending?" the sheriff directed another question to Heath.

The near encounter with Nick had further unnerved Heath. He wanted to get up and take the big fellow on, but his aching head wouldn't allow it, and, there was always the chance Nick was correct, that he had, indeed, shot Gene. But why? He concentrated on Haney's question. "I, I, wait, I do remember workin' on a fence but---"

"But?" Jarrod prompted. The eldest Barkley brother was in the chair across from Heath again.

The man had the most intense blue eyes and they were focused on Heath now. The newcomer to the family appreciated the fact that Jarrod, unlike Nick, appeared to want to believe in him, wanted to believe he was innocent.

Heath shook his head. "I just don't know, Jarrod. I'm sorry."

"That's it!" Nick blurted out. "Sheriff, I want this man put under arrest for the attempted murder of Eugene!"

The sheriff spoke calmly. "Nick, I would like to wait and see if I can talk to Gene, see if he can shed any light on this. It looks bad for Heath here, but we really don't know. And if he was knocked unconscious---"

"He don't have a mark on him, Blaine," Nick countered, quieter now.

"He's makin' up a story. He wasn't unconscious. It's just a cover."

"Then why would I go to the trouble of bringing him here?" Heath spoke up in his own defense.

Ignoring his throbbing head, he pushed himself to a standing position.

"Look, Nick, I don't know how it happened, and like the sheriff says, it looks bad because it was my gun, but I can't think of any reason why I would hurt Gene."

Jarrod also stood up. "Perhaps we should all have a drink and wait a while. Surely, the doctor or Mother and Audra will be down with news soon."

Nick frowned and glared at Heath. "I'm not for waitin', Pappy. We took the fella in, believed him, and now---I'll just say this---If that boy dies, Heath'll be a lot safer in jail."

Although Nick had shown the least inclination to accept Heath, he was the one he most wanted acceptance from. The threatening words uttered by the second oldest Barkley brother stung. Unable to stand any longer, Heath turned to seek the comfort of a chair once again. And then he heard footsteps on the stairs.

Victoria Barkley came down the winding stairs. Her movements were graceful, yet those waiting at the bottom noted her steps were hurried. She wore an expression of anxiety. Heath observed her, not daring to look at his brothers or the sheriff. If she was coming to tell them Eugene was dead, he would be on his way to Stockton and the county jail in short order. Of this he had no doubt. He watched the woman he'd known only three weeks, yet come to respect, closely, and waited for her to speak. As it turned out, she wasn't the first to do that.

"How is he, Mother?" Jarrod asked, moving closer to the stairway.

Heath held his breath. He did not know Victoria well enough to read her face. Finally, she replied to Jarrod. "He's better."

There was a collective sigh of relief before Sheriff Haney said, "I need to talk to him, Mrs. Barkley, for just a few minutes. Will that be all right? I need to find out what happened to him, if at all possible."

Victoria squared her shoulders. "Sheriff, I want to know that as well, but Gene is nearly frantic to see Heath. As soon as he came to himself, he began asking for him."

Heath felt the eyes of all in the room turn to him. He glanced from face to face. Jarrod was unreadable. There was no particular encouragement in those blue eyes, nor was there the hate which filled every inch of Nick's demeanor. Sheriff Haney appeared reluctant, but said, "If he goes up, I think I should go along, uh, just in case---"

"Very well," Victoria interrupted, already concentrating her gaze on Heath. "Will you come?"

He answered readily. "Of course. I want to know what happened as much as the rest of you do."

As he started for the stairs, Heath heard Nick mount an objection.

"Sheriff, he shouldn't be going up there!"

"Nick!" Jarrod admonished. "Keep out of it!"

"Keep out of it!" Nick roared. "How can we do that, Jarrod? If---"

Victoria, climbing the stairs behind Heath, raised her voice so that her two oldest children could hear her. "We'll deal with the ifs in due time."

His legs so heavy he could barely lift them, Heath slowly made his way to the second floor of the Barkley mansion. In the short time since he took up residence here, he had actually come to enjoy the beauty of the house he'd been invited to call home. Would this be the final time he would climb these steps? At the top at last, Victoria stepped around him. "Follow me," she said, and led him down the hallway to a room which Heath knew wasn't Gene's bedroom. She stopped in front of a closed door. "We have him in here. It's a better room to care for the sick."

Heath nodded and waited for her to open the door, dreading what might occur on the other side.

If he was the one who had fired a bullet at Eugene, the boy might become extremely upset at the sight of him. Victoria stepped inside the room. He followed. Seeing his younger brother in the bed nearly caused Heath to turn and escape the room. The boy was white as a ghost! The only daughter in the Barkley family, Audra, stood at the foot of the bed, and Stockton's only Doctor, Bradley Evans, stood at the head. Both were observing the patient intently when Heath entered the room. Both glanced at him. The doctor's expression revealed nothing. Audra's eyes revealed what Heath thought to be slight compassion for him.

"I've brought Heath," Victoria said, moving to lean over Gene. "Can you hear me?"

Heath stood back and waited to see if the young man in the bed would respond. Gene opened his eyes and focused on his mother. "Heath. I want to see--is he here? Mother, where is--?"

Quickly, Heath positioned himself where Gene could see him. "I'm here, Gene," he said. "I'm right here."

There came to his ears a shuffling sound behind him. Heath knew the sheriff and, probably, Jarrod and Nick were now listening and watching. The injured young man did appear agitated at the sight of the brother he had asked to see. Heath wondered if that was a good sign or a very bad one. The boy reached out, waved his arms, causing the doctor to move rapidly to calm him.

"Eugene," Doctor Evans said, "you must stay still. Your wound must heal. Don't thrash around." Then, Evans locked eyes with Heath and spoke again. "You'll have to leave if he gets too excited."

Heath understood. He nodded his understanding to the doctor, and then took a seat on the edge of the bed. "Gene, I'm here."

"Heath, I'm sorry," Eugene moaned. "It was my fault. Are you all right?

I've been asking for you--they wouldn't tell me--It was my fault, I---"

"Take it easy now," Heath told his brother, acutely aware of the others in the room and at the door. "Just tell me, if you can, what happened to you--to us--out there. I don't remember, Gene. Can you help me remember?"

The wounded fellow calmed a bit and dropped his arms. "Sure, sure, I can tell you, Heath. It was all my fault."

"What was your fault?" Heath pressed, taking one of the boy's hands in his. "Did, did I shoot you, and you think it was your fault?"

Heath felt the atmosphere in the room tense. He had, perhaps, just invited Gene to declare him guilty of attempted murder. Evidently the fellow believed, in his current poor condition, that whatever occurred was his own fault, but Heath knew the sheriff and the family, especially Nick, would view it differently. When no response came, he gently urged his brother for one. "Gene, did I shoot you?"

"He couldn't make you," said Eugene, agitated again. "He tried, Heath. He, he demanded that you fire your gun at me, but you wouldn't."

The room closed in on Heath. He felt faint. Someone placed hands on his shoulders. Instinctively, he knew it was Victoria Barkley. She spoke. "Heath, Dear, are you all right?"

He wasn't, but, nevertheless, he answered in the affirmative. "Yes, I'm, uh, fine. It's just that I can't remember who it is he's talkin' about."

Sheriff Haney stepped over to the bed. "Eugene, who was it that wanted Heath to shoot you? Was it someone you know?"

Jarrod then joined the discussion. "Gene, take your time. Just tell us who it was and how it all came about."

Gene rolled his eyes around until he focused on Jarrod. "We were arguing, I, I didn't do what Heath asked, and we got into an argument and then---"

"And then Rollo Black came along," Heath whispered, barely audible to the others.

"Rollo Black!"

Nick Barkley's robust voice startled everyone.

"Nick!" Victoria reprimanded. "Your brother is very sick!"

Nick entered the room from his position in the doorway. He glared at Heath. "Are you sayin' my foreman had somethin' to do with this?"

His headache continued to ravage Heath. His memory was returning a little at a time. He now recalled Rollo Black riding up to a spot where he and Gene were. He answered Nick. "It could be, I, uh, he came along, I remember. This arguing Gene talks about, and Black's part in it, I don't recall."

Nick spoke disgustedly. "All of this is a waste of time. Gene, don't protect Heath. If he shot you, say so!"

"Oh my, Nick," Audra was heard to say from her position at the foot of the bed. "That's a terrible thing to say."

Heath didn't know how much longer he could sit up. His head pounded now, and his vision was blurred. No one either agreed or disagreed with Audra. It was Sheriff Haney who took up the discussion. "Eugene, tell me as best you can about what Rollo Black did."

Raising his head, Heath gave his attention to the younger brother he'd known less than a month.

Eugene struggled to get the words out. "He, well, he took advantage of Heath and--he was glad to find us in an argument. Rollo knew Nick had made Heath--put him in a---"

"Rollo knew Heath was the foreman over one of the crews now, is that what you're trying to say, Gene?" Jarrod attempted to help.

"Yes, yes, that was it--and he was mad, very mad, said he wouldn't take it, that Heath---"

"That pretty soon I would take his place," Heath finished for his brother.

Gene nodded. "Right. You remember now, Heath?"

Favoring Eugene with a comforting smile, Heath squeezed the boy's hand. "Not much. I recall him saying he'd never allow it to happen--my taking his place that is."

"This is crazy!" Nick fumed. "Rollo knows better than to--I mean, he knows I won't replace him."

Suddenly, Eugene seemed to gain strength. He raised his head from the pillow. "This is your fault, Nick! You told Rollo Heath would never stay around here, the way you intended to treat him. I knew that too. I thought you wanted him gone, so I gave him a hard time, even though I like him, like him a lot, I---"

The speech exhausted the youngest Barkley. And it rendered the others in the room momentarily silent. Then, Victoria Barkley's no nonsense voice took control. "Let's see if we can get this straight for the sheriff so that Gene can get some rest. Now, as I under--well, Jarrod, perhaps it would be better if you took over."

Tears stung Heath's eyes. He felt terribly sorry for Eugene. The young man had only been doing as he thought Nick would want him to, or so it sounded. Waiting for Jarrod to take Victoria's suggestion and further question the boy, he attempted to recall more details from earlier in the day.

Jarrod leaned over Gene. "All right, Eugene, tell me if I'm correct so far. You went out with Heath today. Nick had appointed Heath to be your boss on the job. You supposed Nick really didn't want to do that, really wanted Heath to leave, so you acted up, you argued with him. Correct?"

Eugene nodded, but said nothing. Heath dared not look at Nick. Jarrod went on. "So, we've established that much. You and Heath are out there and Rollo Black comes along. Black, too, wants Heath gone, and is unhappy he's been made a crew foreman. Then what happened? You say Black tried to get Heath to shoot you?"

"I can't believe Rollo---" Nick began.

"Nick!" Victoria cut him off. "Listen, please!"

"Yes," Gene mumbled. "He pulled a gun on us. Said it was great news we weren't getting along, said that would make it more believable."

Heath listened. There was a faint inkling of a memory there, something being triggered by what Eugene was saying. Jarrod posed another question to the last born Barkley. "And he ordered Heath to shoot you?"

Again, the boy nodded. After a few seconds, he continued. "He did. I guess he thought Heath was so mad at me, at everything Barkley, he'd do it, because Black promised to help him get away, promised him he'd see to it he'd never get caught, just so he stayed away from here."

"No!" Nick cried out.

"Yes, Nick!" Eugene countered, animated again.

"This young man must be kept quiet!" the doctor intervened.

"Take it easy, Gene," Heath soothed. "Go on. I'm remembering a little of it now. Maybe it will all come back to me, if you tell us some more."

"Do try to go on, Dear," Victoria added, patting Gene on the arm. "But stay calm. Everything will be all right."

Wondering if that could possibly be the case, Heath waited for his brother to gather himself enough to continue.

"Rollo gave Heath a speech about how he had to shoot me, then go, or else---don't you remember, Heath?"

At that point, Heath did recall a bit more. "Or else he'd shoot me on the spot."

"Yes, that's what he said," Eugene confirmed, working himself back up to an agitated condition rapidly.

"And so what happened next, Eugene?" asked the sheriff. "Or do you recall now, Heath?"

Heath shook his head. "Nothin' more has come to me, Sheriff. It's up to Gene to tell it."

Nick could be heard heaving a deep sigh as Jarrod inserted a question.

"Obviously, Gene, you did get shot and Heath did not. Can you shed light on what occurred? Did, uh, Black finally convince Heath to fire the gun---"

"Aw come on!" Nick growled, interrupting his older brother. "Heath had a gun in his hand all the time, evidently. He's just as quick a shot as Rollo Black. He could have shot Rollo anytime, he---"

"He was afraid Rollo would shoot me, Nick!" Eugene cried out. "And he did, but not before Heath was unconscious!"

"But how did that happen!" Heath questioned, his tone revealing the anguish he felt. The room was brittle with tension. The gathering of people around the bed waited. Gene laid his head back on the pillow. "When you wouldn't shoot me, well, I guess Rollo turned cowardly and was afraid to shoot you. So, he decided to make it look like you'd shot me after all."

"How, Gene?"

This time the question came from Nick.

"He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and then he ordered Heath to drop his gun. When Heath did Rollo pointed his own pistol at me, walked over to Heath and told him to stand still. Heath did and Rollo held the handkerchief up to Heath's nose and told him to breathe---"

"Chloroform," Doctor Evans said. "That's what put Heath out. Chloroform."

"You dropped to the ground, Heath," Gene hurried on, "and then Black picked up your gun--I couldn't do anything--and--he shot me."

"It's all over, Dear," Victoria said. "You'll be fine. Everyone will be fine."

"The boy should rest now," advised the doctor.

"And I need to find Rollo Black," Sheriff Haney proclaimed, already on his way out the door.

"I'm going with you!" Nick roared. "When I get my hands on him, I'll---"

"No, please don't leave, Nick!" Eugene begged.

The tall Barkley brother leaned over the injured family member. "Gene, I need to help catch him, he's hurt you---he's hurt you and Heath, I need to go after him."

"I want you here," Gene muttered. "I need to know all of you are here--safe, not in danger."

Heath saw that Gene had taken a firm grip on Nick's arm, while he, himself, continued to hold the boy's hand.

Jarrod then spoke. "I would like to go after Black, too, Nick. But our brothers need us here. They need us to be a family, all of us, tonight."

Nick gave a swift nod of his head. "All right, college boy," he said to Eugene. "I'll be right here--I'm sorry--it won't happen again. Never will anything like this happen again."

TWO HOURS LATER

The liquid Doctor Evans insisted Heath drink evidently had healing power. After taking the medicine and going to his bedroom to lie down for a while, he was feeling much better. Only a slight headache still plagued him. Both Victoria and Jarrod had been in to check on him and to assure him Eugene continued to improve, and the doctor believed the young man to be out of danger.

So many thoughts invaded Heath's mind he could not drop off to sleep as Doctor Evans and the others suggested. Most of those thoughts concerned Nick. It seemed to Heath that, even though the tall, short-tempered second Barkley son apologized for his part in the near tragedy, his apology had been directed solely to Eugene.

"I can't force him to accept me," Heath murmered aloud. "I think I'd best---"

A knock on his bedroom door caused him not to finish the statement.

Supposing it was Victoria or Jarrod again, he invited, "Come in."

The door opened. The last person Heath expected to have as a visitor entered the room. Nick Barkley walked over to the bed. Heath immediately set up. "No need to get up," Nick quickly said.

"I'm ready to," Heath shrugged.

"Doc says your headache should be gone by dinner time."

"'Bout gone now."

Nick sighed. "Good. That's good. Listen, Heath, there are some things I need to say."

Heath said nothing, but he met Nick's eyes and nodded, hoping the other man would get on with whatever it was, and get it over with.

"Well, first," Nick began. "I, well, I believe you, but why, I mean, I don't understand. If you had your gun in your hand all the while, why---?"

"Why didn't I shoot Black?" Heath cut in.

"Yea."

"I thought for sure he'd ask me to drop my gun when he pulled his. Instead, he told me to keep it, but not to shoot, 'cause if I did, he'd kill the boy. I couldn't take that chance."

"So you remember it all now? And what Gene said is basically correct?"

"Yea, I remember everything now. I just couldn't take the chance."

"No," Nick mumbled. "You did all you could. Gene's doin' fine."

Heath nodded. "I'm glad."

Nick began to pace. "Look, I was wrong, bad wrong, and I'm sorry. It's just been so hard acceptin' this thing. Father was--well, I had him up on a real high pedestal. In my mind, he could do no wrong."

Heath listened. Nick said he was sorry, but that didn't mean they could ever get along, didn't mean the big fellow would ever be able to think of him as a brother. Probably, he never would.

Heath spoke. "I didn't think much before I came ridin' in here. Momma died. I was alone. It seemed like the thing to do to just come here. I'm not sayin' I don't still think I'm entitled to my share, I do. But maybe I shouldn't stay. Maybe there's some other way, a settlement or somethin', so I won't be in your hair. I'm thinkin' about joinin' the army."

Nick was looking out the window now. "You must think I'm a real bad guy."

It wasn't true and Heath said so. "No, I see how you run this ranch, how much the hands think of you, how much the family thinks of you, in spite---"

Turning to face Heath, Nick allowed a slight grin to cross his lips. "In spite of my big mouth and bad temper, huh?"

Heath couldn't quite suppress a grin of his own. "In spite of that."

Nick came to the bed in two long strides and set down next to Heath.

"Heath, you were a hero today, savin' Gene like that, and the family, Mother, Jarrod, Audra, and the boy, they, uh, well, they like you, and they wouldn't like hearin' this joinin' the army business."

"Nick," Heath began, but was cut off.

"Wait a minute! I'm not finished. I wouldn't like it either, you're leavin', this is. It's not you I don't like, Heath. It's just been the idea of it. I mean, about Father. I've not been fair to you, but I want to be. I want to get to know you, want us to be---"

"To be what, Nick? Friends?"

Nick smiled broadly. It was about the finest smile Heath ever saw in his life. "Well," Nick went on, "we can try that, bein' friends, I mean. You know though, Heath, there's more to bein' a brother than just bein' a friend. Sometimes, me and Jarrod aren't too friendly. What I'm sayin' is, we disagree sometimes, and Gene's so much younger, we don't have enough in common to be friends. But we're brothers, Heath. Always, they are my brothers, and no matter how much we disagree or whatever, it don't interfere with our bein' brothers. And I want us, you and me, to be brothers."

Heath did not know what to say. After a long pause, he decided to say exactly how he felt. "I'd like that, Nick."

Nick grinned again. "Fine. Now, you lay back down here and take a nap. If you're up to it, come down for dinner. We've got some things to talk over about tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yep. That's the day you begin workin' as my head foreman."

Nick left and Heath took his brother's advice. Not two minutes after Nick departed, he was able to drop off into a deep, peaceful sleep.

The End