The morning seemed to fly to a young boy whose sky eyes couldn't take in enough of the action. Duke nudged Tom and nodded to Heath, whose eyes had been glued to Nick since they'd arrived, several hours earlier. The blue saucers and occasional slack jaw gave Tom a smile. Heath was sitting on the top rail of the corral. Duke left Tom and walked over to the blond boy.

"So Young Fella," He greeted, "You read to have a go?"

"No Sir," Heath shook his head. "I'd most likely bust up me and the calf. Did ya see Nick? He sure can ride. He's got an arm too, sure does flick his wrist with that rope." Heath bragged, "Don't reckon anyone's faster. Dropped that calf like a stone. Sure is somethin'"

"He sure is," Duke agreed, "So will you be in a few years, Sprout, you'll see."

"I don't know, Duke," Heath shook his head, "By then Nick will be...seventeen and more better."

"More better?" Tom frowned, ruffling the boy's hair as he joined them. "Sounds like you need more English lessons."

"Sorry," Heath grinned.

"Nick," Tom called, "Finish up, we have to get moving."

Nick waved and gave a loud whoop, chasing the nearest stray.

"He is really good, isn't he?" Tom asked Duke, as if seeing Nick in a new light.

"I tell you what, Tom," Duke nodded, "You give him a few years to finish filling out, and you've got a helluva hand there. He loves it, Tom. You can see right at that glint in his eye."

Tom watched Heath slide down and walk to where Nick was watering his horse. He stood a few feet away, and Tom winced. He knew Heath wanted to run to Nick and praise him, but held back. Nick didn't even look up.

"Give it time, Tom," Duke patted his shoulder, reading the other man's concern. "He'll come around. All that boy's talked about since I can remember is wanting a little brother. Heath is tailor made for Nick. Once Nick realizes that, they'll be fine. Nick's just buttin' his horns a little. You best get going, if you want to get there by supper. I'll see you on Monday morning."

"Thanks, Duke." Tom clapped his back and walked over to where his youngest son stood. He saw the look of pure adoration on Heath's face as he watched Nick tend to his horse. He gripped the boy's neck and gave a gentle tug. Heath cast him a crooked grin.

"Nick, you did a fine job out there. Don't know when I've seen better." Tom declared, squeezing his shoulder.

"Thanks, Father." Nick grinned, soaking it in. "Tim's gonna take Coco back for me."

"Well boys, let's go," Tom said, gripping each one of them around the neck. "We've got a lot of work to do."

"I been workin' all morning," Nick complained, "When's the runt gonna pull his share?"

Tom felt Heath's shoulders tense up and noticed the slight flicker of pain in Heath's eyes. He squeezed the shoulder and rubbed the small back. "You can take a nap in the wagon. Seems to me Heath is doing far more than you did at nine. He's not only taking care of his horse, but Jarrod's as well. He helps Buck in the bunkhouse, finishes his homework on time and I'm quite impressed with his knowledge of horses."

"I got a good eye," Heath piped up, feeling a need to defend himself against Nick.

"You sure do, Son." Tom agreed.

Heath climbed up front to ride with Tom. Nick stretched out in the back, intent on sleeping. Heath stared down at Nick, eyeing the muscles under Nick's white shirt. He frowned and looked at his own arms. Tom saw him and grinned.

"I's never gonna have muscles like them." He complained.

"Yes you will, I promise." Tom laughed. "He's four years older than you, Heath."

"I reckon. Sides," He paused, eyeing Nick "I's fixin' on winning that horse race. I don't need to be bigger to do that."

"When pigs fly..." Nick yawned, dropping his hat over his eyes. "I don't aim to lose a race to no runt."

"Didn't know y'all had flyin' pigs in these parts." Heath countered, giving his father a good laugh.

Nick just groaned and let the motion of the wagon lull him to sleep. Tom and Heath rode in silence for several miles. Tom thought on Heath's bad dream and the encounter with the Carson boy.

"How's school, Son?"

"Pretty good so far," Heath mumbled, munching on an apple. "I like history best. I ain't real good at science, but I ain't fixin' on usin' that anyhow."

"Have you made any friends?"

"Yeah, a few. Cory's been helpin' me a lot."

"Heath, has Aaron Carson been bothering you?"

Heath's head dropped and he didn't answer for a moment. Tom studied the face, but the blank stare netted nothing.

"He tried to take my milk, but I told him to get his own." Heath recalled, "He's ain't nice and I don't like him much. I stay clear of him, Pa."

"Heath, if he does threaten you, you tell one of the teachers."

"Yes Sir," Heath squirmed, avoiding the issue.

The cabin was located near the river and set in a clearing with trees all around it. A small corral and barn stood to the right. The three bedroom cabin had a large living area with a small kitchen. The barn needed repairing and painting; the fencing needed to be replaced and the Tom wanted to build a porch out front. He pulled the team in and jumped off the wagon. He smacked Nick's leg to rouse him.

"Take care of the team, while we unpack." Tom directed as Nick groaned.

"I'll do it," Heath volunteered. "Nick should rest."

Nick sat up and nodded, casting his father a hopeful stare. Tom shook his head and pointed to the barn, then strode into the cabin. Nick scowled and jumped down. "Out of my way, runt. Go unpack, that's usually a girls job." Nick offered, making sure his father was out of earshot.

"I said I can do it," Heath shoved him hard, tumbling Nick to the ground.

"Hey! Cut that out." Nick rallied, jumping to his feet

"I ain't no girl." Heath growled, unsure why he was so angry.

"You might as well be," Nick scoffed, "You spend enough time with Audra and that dumb doll of hers."

Nick turned to unhitch the horses and found himself knocked to the ground. The wrestling match was short lived. A loud, angry voice accompanied by a strong yank on his collar, gave Nick a wince.

"Two minutes!" Tom roared. "I can't leave you two alone for two minutes. "

"He started it..." Nick protested, only to be cut off soundly.

"I don't want to hear it! Nor do I want to hear your mother's wrath at more torn shirts and trousers. Nick you're older and need to learn to use your head. It comes with the territory. Now both of you take the team into the barn. Quietly!" He ordered.

"Yes Sir." They chorused, getting to work.

Tom took the lumber, tools, crates and supplies out of the wagon. By five o'clock , the supplies were stacked nearly in the barn. Heath was fishing for supper, while Nick was checking his rabbit snares. Tom had measured out the porch and set stakes with string. He sat in a rocker out front and sipped on a cup of coffee. He eyed the small blond boy, who's head turned at intervals looking towards the woods where Nick went. Tom sipped his coffee and wished he had an answer.

Nick returned and held up three plump rabbits. Tom nodded in approval. Nick quickly cleaned them and hung them in the kitchen . He went down to the water to wash his hands. Heath was perched on a rock, and looked down at Nick.

"Hey Nick. Look what I caught." Heath held up his string of fish.

"Not bad, Runt." Nick eyed the fish, all a good size. "Looks like we'll have a feast tonight. I got three fat rabbits, all ready for roasting."

"Figured." Heath pulled his line in.

"How's that?" Nick squinted up at the blond boy.

"Figured ya would be good at huntin'. Bet ya shoot good too. Ya sure can ride and rope. Ain't never seen anybody as good as y'all Nick."

Nick shifted his feet and rubbed a hand across his gut, wondering why he got that pain again. All he needed now was for the runt to give him them cow eyes and he'd be a goner.

"Thanks Runt. You know to shoot?" He asked, watching Heath shake his head.

"'bout time you learned then." Nick said gruffly, "I talk to Father about it."

"Thanks Nick." Heath smiled down at him.

There's them damn eyes, Nick scowled, as the pain spread. Stupid little blue-eyed runt. He turned and started to walk away, glancing back. "You coming?"

"Yeah" Heath replied, turning too fast and losing his footing.

"Nick!" Heath hollering slipping off the rocks and into the churning water.

"Heath!" Nick bolted, jumping in and grabbing the flailing boy. He hauled the sputtering body onto the bank and felt his heart racing. Heath was all all fours coughing up a mouthful of water. Nick clapped him on the back "You alright?"

Heath nodded but continued to grip Nick's arm. Nick saw the small chest heaving and the eyes were still startled. He waited a moment until the boy's breathing slowed and he felt the death grip on his arm lessen. He stood and pulled Heath up with him.

"You gotta be more careful on them rocks. What were you thinking? You could have busted that fool head of yours." Nick growled, gripping his arms hard.

"I'm sorry, Nick. I just slipped." Heath winced.

"Come on, we best get changed and do something to get on Father's good side. He ain't gonna like this." Nick said, trying to avoid his brother's eyes.

"Sorry." Heath offered, "Uh-oh" He hissed, spotting his father.

"What happened Nick?"

"Oh for Pete's sake," Nick shouted, "What do you assume it's always my fault?"

"You're older and you're in charge. I asked you a question."

"It's my fault, Pa. I fell into the river and Nick saved me. I'm sorry."

"He's okay. It was an accident." Nick answered.

"Get some dry clothes on and hang those outside."

"I gotta get my fish." Heath turned, intending on heading back to the rocks.

"Oh no you don't" Nick grabbed him and turned him towards the house. "I'll get the stupid fish."

They shared a hearty dinner, cooking the fish and the rabbits, along with some potatos and carrots. Silas sent up a spice cake which they finished easily. Tom went outside to watch the stars and took his flask of brandy. The boys were settled in bed. It was close to ten when Tom joined them.

Tom sat up in the bed and stared around the dark room. Something woke him up. He slid out of bed and pulled his pants on. He ducked into the living room and turned towards the room where the boys were.

"No...No...get away from me..."

Nick tripped across the room and sat on Heath's bed. He shook the smaller boy and scowled. "Wake up, you're having that dream again."

"Get away...that hurts...Get off of me...." Heath cried, struggling against an invisible assailant.

"Hey, cut it out!" Nick pulled Heath upright and tapped his face lightly, "Take it easy," He said hearing the intake of breath and feeling the body shuddering. "It was just a dream."

Tom was about to enter the room, but he held back. Neither boy observed him and he waited, something told him Nick needed to do this.

Heath sat up and looked around the dark room. His face was damp and his nightshirt clung to him. He was breathing heavily and gripping the sheets in a death grip. He slid a sideways glance at Nick. It was dark and Heath couldn't see Nick's face, but knew he was mad.

"Sorry." He mumbled, hanging his head.

"Look, Runt." Nick grunted, "I've had it with these dreams of yours. What's bugging you?"

"Nuthin'" Heath dropped back down, but Nick wasn't buying.

"Try again." He said, pulling Heath upright. "Give it up...I ain't got all night, so ya might as well get it done. What are ya fussin' about?"

"He took it and he didn't have no right." Heath whispered.

"Who?"

"Brother Domenick at Good Shepherd. He was real mean. He...he..." Heath's shoulders started to heave and Nick spotted the fists clenching the sheets.

"He what?" Nick demanded, shaking the shoulder.

"I's in the library, finishing my chores. Nobody was around. He didn't like me none. Called me a bas..." Heath paused, taking a deep breath. "He snuck up on me and...he had scissors...big scissors...he held me down with his knee and cut my hair. I couldn't hardly breath. He didn't have no right..."

"What happened to him?" Nick asked, feeling sick in his stomach and at the same time, wanting to pummel the brute.

"Brother Francis sent him away to some island where he can't hurt kids no more."

"He can't hurt you, Heath and neither can Aaron." Nick said, resting a hand on the trembling smaller shoulders.

He heard the sharp intake of breath and felt Heath turn. "Aaron? This ain't about Aaron."

"Sure it is." Nick grumbled, "All this carrying on in your sleep started the after Aaron strongarmed you. Is that all that happened?"

"Yeah." Heath mumbled.

"Look Heath," Nick reasoned, "Don't you worry about Aaron. He ain't gonna lay a hand on you. Okay?"

"Okay." Heath replied, hoping Nick believed him. "Hey Nick?"

"Yeah." Nick answered, yawning.

"Thanks for saving me today."

"S'okay runt, I needed a bath anyhow."

"Go on back to your bed, Nick. I'm okay." Heath mumbled, snuggling onto his pillow.

"I know." Nick growled, "I uh...uh...need to rest my bad toe. That's it." Nick repeated, easing himself down in the bed. "Figured I stay over here awhile."

"Thanks," Heath mumbled, as the security blanket eased him into a deep sleep.

Tom waited until both boys were sleeping. He entered and kissed each on the top of the head and pulled the sheet up. He had a feeling the tide of the war was shifting. A sliver of moonbeam snuck into the room and cast a silver light on the pair. Tom smiled, as Nick's subconsious displayed the tendencies he hoped Nick would be able to show. Nick slept soundly on his side, with one arm cast over Heath's chest.

The morning sunlight filled the room and Nick sat up. Rubbing his eyes he groaned and looked around. He jumped up and Heath woke up. His face was puzzled until he remembered what happened. His shoulders slumped and his face colored in embarrassment.

"Listen, Runt, you understand it was just this bad toe of mine flared up." He answered the flushed face. "that's why I stayed. You tell anybody and I'll deny this. Course I'd have to pound ya too." He warned, watching for the head to come up.

"Maybe..." Heath decided and slid out of bed, heading outside to answer nature's call.

"Maybe what?" Nick demanded, following him.

"Maybe you'd pound me," Heath paused, "But I reckon not."

"How do figure?"

"You ain't bested me yet, have ya?" Heath professed jauntily, heading back to the cabin. Nick stood dumbfounded in his wake.

"Damn cocky, little runt." He growled, "How's he do that?" He wondered at Heath's confident reasoning ability. It was a mystery that he'd never solve, but come to embrace.

Tom set off to replace some of the fencing around the corral. Heath and Nick were at the barn, beginning their jobs. Each was given a side of the small barn to identify what needed to be repaired. Nick liked to jump right in to a job, take a big bite and finish quickly. Heath was a plotter. Tom had seen traces of the boy's ways of thinking with the horse, how he tackled his homework and how he studied all sides of a situation. His view from the far side of the corral, gave him a clear picture of both boys working. Their styles were different but their purpose was the same. Nick knelt at the first loose board and grabbed a hammer. Heath examined each board on his side carefully. He then disappeared for a couple minutes and returned with a white rock. He then examined he barn side again and began making marks on them.

Nick paused and wiped his face on his sleeve. He took a large gulp of water from his canteen and resumed hammering. Finally the section was secure and he could move on. He cocked his head and wondered at the silence. What was the runt doing over there? It don't take a whole lot of brains to swing a hammer. He hadn't heard any sounds at all since they started. Spitting out the nails he held between his teeth, he made his way across the front of the barn and peeked around the side. His face screwed up at the series of scratches on different pieces of the barnside. Heath was squatted beyond halfway, scratching the boards with a rock. Nick eyed all the pieces near the front that were still loose and stalked over to the blond.

"What the devil are you doing? You're supposed to be working, not making crazy Indian marks on the barn. You haven't fixed a single board in all this time." Nick hollered, arms waving.

Heath looked up at Nick's furious face and flapping arms. He sighed, carefully placed his rock on the ground and stood up. Cocking his head, he looked up at his older brother.

"What's wrong Nick?" He asked innocently.

"WHAT'S WRONG!" Nick exasperated. "Come here," He grabbed the boy by the collar and dragged him around to the other side. Pointing to the repaired siding, "This is how's you do it." He randomly found a loose board, picked up a nail and began to secure it in place. The final whack nicked the edge of his thumb, causing a short string of colorful language. Nick shook the injured appendage and glared at the younger boy, who's expression had yet to change.

"Well!" Nick growled. "Do you understand?"

"Yeah," Heath paused, eyeing the barn and Nick's thumb, "I reckon that's okay too." He nodded and started to retreat.

"Hold on a minute." Nick roared, running after him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Heath didn't reply, and continued to his side of the barn. He peeked around the edge, smiled and picked up his rock. He stood back a few yards, at the center of the side. He counted silently and sure enough, before a minute went by, Nick was back.

"What are doing over there? You can't even make them silly scratchings from over there." Nick frowned.

"Waitin'" Heath replied.

"I know I'm gonna be sorry I asked," Nick muttered to himself as he made his way to Heath's side. "Waiting for what?"

"Figured y'all would be by," Heath nodded, "Was waitin' on ya, to show ya."

"Show me what?" Nick scratched his neck and eyed the barn.

"See," Heath said, pointing to the marks.

"See what?" Nick rankled, his short patience was nearly gone, "All that Indian writin' ain't gonna keep them boards in place."

"I checked them all out first," Heath explained, "Some's too bad off for nails, Pa's gonna have to replace 'em. No sense wastin' time puttin' nails to rotten wood. They's the ones with crosses scratched on 'em. The one's with circles are the ones I'm aimin' to fix. I left the nails in front of each one. Ya understand now, Nick" Heath crowed proudly, patting Nick's arm.

Nick actually admired the fact that Heath thought of that idea. But he wasn't about to have no damn runt show him up. He scowled and shook his head.

"We'll see who gets done first. At least I got something to show for this morning." He snapped, sucking on his throbbing thumb and walking away.

"Maybe," Heath followed him, heading to where his first loose board waited. "But I ain't the one with a busted thumb." Heath smirked, biting back a laugh.

"Shut up, runt," Nick glared, on his way past.

By midday, Tom had the sections of the fence replaced and went to the cabin to retrieve the lunch Silas packed. He filled the basket and took it down to a clearing near the water. He retraced his steps and approached the barn, to check on the progress of his crew. He paused and pushed his hat back. Like night and day, he shook head, his angle giving him clear visability to the methodology. The end result might be the same, but two diverse roads led there. Heath needed to see the whole picture. Nick couldn't see the whole picture, because he was usually in the middle of it.

"How's it coming?" Tom asked, "You boys ready for lunch?"

"Yeah," Nick jumped up, tossing his hammer where he sat, "I could eat a bear."

"Well, I am afraid we're out of bear today," Tom clapped his back, "But I made sandwiches from the ham Silas sent up and there's some pie." He eyed the repairs Nick did, which were nearly complete. "Nice work, Son."

"Pa, come and see," Heath tugged at his father's sleeve.

"Yeah," Nick chortled, "What until you see what the ru...Heath did."

Tom was puzzled for a minute at Heath's markings, but the pint-sized planner's short explanation gave him a broad smile. All the loose boards Heath identified were secured. Tom examined several of the remaining ones and was impressed. He gripped his blond son behind the neck and gave him an affectionate squeeze.

"Heath, I'm very pleased. You did a terrific job, by using efficiency and effectiveness."

"Huh?" Heath squinted up at him, giving Tom a deep laugh.

"You done good, Son!" He translated, drinking in the beam radiating from Heath's face. "I'll replace those boards next week when we come. Now how about that lunch?"

"Boy Howdy, where is it?" Heath grinned.

"Down by the water. I thought after lunch, we'd start your shooting lessons."

"No kiddin'?" Heath stopped in his tracks, his blues eyes like saucers. "Did ya hear that Nick?"

"Big deal." Nick tossed, heading for the basket.

Heath was so excited he barely finished his meal. Tom had forgotten how much he enjoyed his son's youthful enthusiasm. Nick had been just as impatient and it didn't seem like that long ago. He deliberately ate his pie slowly and watched Heath's eyes flicking to his plate. Sure enough, as soon as the last crumb was finished, Heath sprung to his feet.

"Okay Tiger," Tom said, ruffling the sun-kissed hair, "You ready?"

"Yes, Sir!" Heath yelped, then saw Nick behind them bending his sore thumb. "Uh...maybe we can wait until next week. We didn't finish our job yet and we promised. I always keep my word."

"I know that, Heath," Tom answered, curious as to his son's change of heart. Heath tugged on his sleeve and Tom bent down.

"Nick's got a sore thumb and he ain't done yet. I reckon it'll be hard to hold the nails down. So's he'll need me to help." He whispered.

Tom didn't reply but gave Heath a brief hug, thankful again for the precious gift in his arms. "I'll tell you what, Son." He said, looking down at the small face, "How about if all three of us finish it? Then we'll have time for a short lesson, Okay?"

"Okay." Heath said, trotting back to Nick "Ain't ya done yet? How much more can ya fit in there? Y'alls gonna bust right out of them pants."

"Mind your own business," Nick snapped.

"Nick!" Tom warned, "Put your plate in the basket and bring it to the house. Once we get those last boards secured, we can set up some targets for Heath to shoot at."

"We?" Nick stood angrily. "I don't need his help. It's my job and I'll finish it."

"Let me see your thumb" Tom held his hand out.

"It's fine, it ain't busted, just a little sore is all." Nick tossed his plate in the basket and set out for the house. Heath ran to catch up with him.

"Nick, Hey Nick." He called, running to keep place with his brother's long strides.

"What now runt?" He growled, putting the basket on the table inside the door.

"Well I was hopin' ya could learn me to shoot like y'all does. Iffen we finish fixin' the barn first. Okay?"

Don't look at him...Nick told himself, knowing them damn blue eyes would be staring at him. But he turned anyway and winced. Stupid, no account runt...why does he always give me a gut ache?

"Well," He sighed, "Alright. Let's go."

Tom was waiting when the boys arrived at the clearing a quarter mile from the cabin. He'd set up targets of some tin cans and had a rifle ready. He showed Heath the rifle, and how it worked. How to load it, aim and fire. He explained the importance of keeping the gun cleaned and oiled. Finally Heath was ready. Tom was about to stand behind him and guide him, when Nick moved in.

"My half of the deal," He explained. "Ease it against your shoulder...that's it. Now look at the target. Don't shoot yet." Nick cautioned, "Just look at it real good. Squeeze gently, don't pull too hard. Okay...when you're sure it's in your sight, pull."

Heath took a deep breath and did what Nick said. He felt Nick right behind him and that made him straighten up and concentrate. He wanted Nick to be proud of him. He squinted one eye, looked at the can, and fired. The recoil knocked him back into Nick, sending both of them to the ground. Heath winced and rubbed his shoulder.

"You okay?" Nick coughed, "Kicks like mule, huh?"

"I'll say." Heath said, letting his father pull him up.

"I missed." Heath slumped, but before either Tom or Nick could explain that hitting the target takes time and practice, the determined little boy took his stance again. He loaded the gun like his father showed him and turned. Tom was ready to step forward, but he saw his youngest son's eyes go right by him. He was looking for Nick.

"I'm waitin'"

"Yeah, okay..." Nick grinned behind the boy's back.

Tom stood close by and saw the glint in Heath's eye. He recognized the determination and unyielding spirit. The same force fueled Nick. He felt a surge of pride as he watched Nick guiding Heath. At the first twang and the sight of a tin can flying in the air, Heath didn't whoop or cry out in excitement. He stood back, nodded and gave a slight smile. Two more cans fell and Heath reached for the cartridges, but Tom stopped him.

"That's enough for today, Son." He said, eyeing the sky, "We've got to get started for home. You did fine Heath. We'll practice at home."

"I want to get it right." Heath protested.

"You can't learn it all in one day. It's takes time. It ain't like we're gonna run into a band of Indians on the way home." Nick snarled, "Besides, if we do, you can impress them with your fancy scratchings."

Heath giggled and Tom ruffled his hair. By the time the wagon was packed and the trio set out for home, it was getting late in the day and the air turned cooler. Nick rode up front with his father. Heath's yawns had sent him to the back, where he was sleeping. Tom turned slightly wondering why Nick had climbed over the back. He heard a rustling and saw Nick throw a blanket over Heath. Nick returned to his seat and saw his father wearing a broad grin.

"I lost enough sleep with them bad dreams of his," Nick peeved, defending his actions, "Just my luck he'll catch cold and keep me up all night hacking away."

"If you say so, Son" Tom laughed, shaking his head. Nick was finally warming up to Heath. He knew the boy wanted to embrace Heath but that bull terrier in him was tugging hard. Maybe it would make their bond the strongest. It might take a little longer, but Tom had a feeling Nick and Heath would benefit.

"You know," Nick thought outloud, "The runt's got pretty good eye. He kept his head too, didn't go all giddy when he hit the target."

"Why don't you tell him that." Tom asked quietly, eyeing his middle child. "Yours was the voice he was waiting to hear. He looks up to you Nick."

"I didn't ask him to do that." Nick grumbled.

"Neither did Jarrod when he was your age. You remember how patient he was teaching you things."

"Yeah, but that's different."

"No, it's not Nick. As a matter of fact, you and Heath have a lot more in common. One day the two of you will be running this ranch. So be a little patient with him., okay?"

"Alright," Nick agreed, shifting uncomfortably as the mantle of idol weighed on him. "Seems to me he's done pretty good so far. He's a tough little runt. He don't need me for a hero."

"No, Nick, he needs a brother." Tom said softly.

"Hey Nick, maybe we could go huntin' some time and shoot a mountain lion or a bear." Heath prattled, several paces behind Nick. It was Monday morning and the two were on their way to school.

"A bear!" Nick snorted, "Don't get cocky, Runt. You punched a few tin cans. You ain't ready for anything with feet yet."

"You ever go huntin'?"

"Sure, lots of times. Father usually takes me and Jarrod around the holidays." Nick answered, as they dismounted at the school. "You stay clear of Aaron Carson, you hear. I don't need Mr. Carrington on my back." He warned.

"I don't aim to be lookin' for him."

Actually, Heath had almost put the bully out of his mind. He made his way to class and tried to come up with an answer for the brute.

Nick found Cody, Will and Jack waiting for him in the hall. The morning was uneventful. Nick was outside at lunch, eating behind a stone wall. He heard voices from the stable nearby. He recognized George Crane and Robert Drake. He tossed his apple core away and started back to the school.

"Hey, get a load of the fancy horse that bastard's riding."

"I bet he sleeps in the barn, too, like his kind should."

"My Pa says the only reason he's goin' here is 'cause he Pa gave the school a lotta money."

"My Pa told my brother Paul to stay clear of him, that he'd most likely steal the pennies from a blind man. He should be mixing with decent folks. He..."

George's sentence was aborted by the dark force that threw him into the side of the barn door. Nick pummeled the loud mouth before getting hit by Robert Drake. Drake was Nick's age but heavier and quickly locked Nick's arms behind his back.

"What's the matter with you?" George coughed, spitting the blood from his split lip. "Word around town is that you can't stand the little bas..."

"Shut up, Crane," Nick hissed, fighting to free his arms from Drake's. "You got guts talking about decent folks. Your old man's been in prison." Nick squirmed to get free and with one powerful lunge, wrenched his arms free. Before the trio could continue their battle, the bell ending lunch rang.

George rinsed his mouth out and tucked his shirt back in his pants. Nick stood slowly, wincing and flexing his wrist. He didn't think it was broken, but it hurt and was starting to swell. He cleaned himself up as best he could, and headed to class. Mr. Wilkens, the English Teacher, saw him enter the building.

"Mr. Barkley, what happened?" He said, looking at the bruised face and swelling wrist.

"I fell off the wall." Nick lied, "I heard the bell and slipped."

The teacher knew better, he'd seen the other two disheveled boys enter, but he didn't press the matter. He saw the dark look Nick wore and figured the skirmish had something to do with Heath. He liked Nick's little brother and knew the older boy was struggling too. He placed a hand on Nick's chin and tipped his head up.

"You're gonna have a first rate shiner," He quipped, gently touching the wrist.

"OW!" Nick yelped, pulling back.

"Bad sprain, I'd say. Come on, I'll take you to the Infirmary."

Heath was having his own adventurous day. Aaron cornered him on his way to lunch. Heath saw the large brute but stood his ground.

"Well, you got my money?" Aaron growled, forced the smaller boy to backpedal.

"No." Heath said, making an angry face, "I ain't giving ya no money."

"You'll change your mind." Carson said, shoving Heath against the wall. "or I'll change that pretty face of yours."

Heath wiggled free and glared at the bully. He spent the morning with Mike Lassiter and Josh Collins. The trio ate lunch outside under a large tree. None of them saw Aaron and his cohorts lingering nearby. Aaron listened as Heath bragged about Nick to his friends. The two other boys sat transfixed as their new blond friend recalled Nick's riding, roping and shooting skills. He'd have to wait until the blond was alone and teach him a lesson.

Aaron was on his way to the third floor after lunch, when he spotted Nick Barkley coming out of the science room. He didn't like the loud mouth, hot head and got a grin at the black eye and arm in a sling.

"What happened to him?" He asked Teddy Lopez, who was in Nick's class.

"He's claiming he fell," Lopez tossed his head at George, who hustled out the door, "Crane and Drake had a run in with him, over that new brother of his. He won't talk, he don't want to embarrass the kid."

"Really..." Aaron grinned, his mind spinning. "Thanks Teddy, I owe you one."

"What?" Hank Greene, on of Carson's cohorts asked.

"That bastard's got an Achille's heel." Aaron leered, "And it's name is Nick. Come on, I'll explain."

Heath stayed for a few minutes after class reading about the Crusades. There was a drawing in his text book of a knight on a horse with a lance and a banner. He studied the illustration carefully and got an idea. The School Fair was at the end of October and each student was to enter a project. Heath ran his hand across the drawing and nodded, as the idea took hold. He made his way carefully downstairs and turned into a wall of muscle.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite Barkley mutt." Aaron leered.

Heath's eyes darted left and right but Caron's crew had surrounded him. He stood straight and glared up at the bully.

"I told ya, I ain't givin' ya no money. Get outta my way." Heath tried to wiggle by, but Aaron collared him against the wall.

"You'll have that half dollar for me by Friday, or next time I'll use this on your big brother Nick." Aaron pulled out a knife and held it before the terrified boy's eyes.

"...next time?" Heath gasped, "Whaddya mean?"

"You'll find out soon enough," Carson leaned down, "You keep that loud bastard mouth of yours shut or I'll stick him good, you hear?"

Heath ran, with their laughter echoing behind him. He didn't stop until he was out the door. His heart was racing. He needed to find Nick. What did Aaron mean? He was so lost in thought, he never saw Cody approaching him and the two collided.

"Whoa!" Cody laughed, helping Heath up, "Slow down. What's wrong?"

"Where's Nick?"

"He asked me to wait for you and take you home. He went home early, he fell in the barn and got banged up a little."

"Oh No..." Heath staggered, Cody grabbed him.

"Hey, he's okay, Heath. Just hurt his arm and got a black eye."

"Did you see him fall?"

"No. He was alone, why?"

"Nothing..." Heath mumbled, climbing on his horse.

Normally when he got in from school, he took his books to his room, hung his good clothes up, got changed and had a snack with Silas. They shared their events of the day as Heath munched and drank lemonade or milk. Silas looked forward to their little talks and had the boy's snack ready. But Heath flew by and raced up the stairs without even stopping.

"Mr. Heath?" Silas called after him, "What's the matter?"

"I gotta see Nick." Heath hollered, racing to his brother's room, which was empty.

"He's at the bunkhouse." Silas said, catching up to Heath. "You know he works with Mr. Duke after school."

"But...Cody said he got hurt." Heath asked breathlessly.

Silas shook his head at the worried blue eyes. "He's fine, Son, just a little banged up. Mr. Nick's real good at getting banged up. Now you get those clothes off. I got a nice glass of lemonade and some bread pudding for you.

Heath nodded absentmindedly and went into his room. He tossed his books on the bed and got changed. He looked over at the corral where Nick was standing. He trotted outside and made his way over towards his brother. His face paled when he saw Nick's bruises, black eye and sling.

"What happened Nick?" He asked, voice faltering.

"Nothin'" Nick shifted his eyes, still hearing the cruel words. He stomach churned thinkging on the incident and he felt like a coiled spring. He felt his face coloring and turned away, not up to facing Heath.

"But you're hurt...and your eye..." Heath's voice trembled, thinking of Aaron's threat.

"I said I don't want to talk about it." Nick barked, clenching his jaw and fists.

"Your arm ain't busted, is it Nick?" Heath had to walk fast to catch Nick's long strides.

"NO! It's fine...leave me alone." Nick growled, turning and trying to control his misplaced anger, "Quit followin' me around Runt!" He snapped in a voice so cold, it caused Heath to stop dead in his tracks.

Heath watched Nick disappear into the house. He made his way into the barn and brushed down Lancelot. He wished Jarrod was here, or Dante. Dante would make his pain go away. He got a lump in his throat when he thought of his dark-haired friend. Like Dante, Nick had gotten hurt because of him. He felt his chest tighten and face flush with heat. He disappeared into the far end of the barn, curling up as Aaron's laughter cornered him. He buried his face in his sleeve as tears of frustration fell. He had to get a half dollar by Friday. He wouldn't let Aaron hurt Nick again. A half-dollar a week...

"What am...I..go..nna...do?" He stammered, punctuating his problem with a hiccup.

Heath slipped out of his bed and made his way to the window. It was late and the large house was quiet and dark. He eyed the silver moon and pondered on his problem. He'd done well through dinner and escaped early, pleading homework. But now, as the rest of his family slept, the nine-year old was wide awake. He'd thought to tell his father, but reasoned that wouldn't work. There wasn't any witnesses and Aaron would deny everything. He couldn't risk Nick getting hurt. His allowance was a half-dollar a week, but that went in the bank. How could he explain keeping it? His father would ask too many questions. No, he'd have to get a job. That would be hard, since he his time was limited. He slipped back in bed, resting his head on his hands crossed behind his head. Couldn't get a job at school, Nick would know. Couldn't go to town, too many people would find out. His mind was heavy with thought, when he did fall asleep.

Nick fidgeted in bed, trying to get comfortable. He scowled, blaming his restlessness on his injured wrist. But that wasn't the reason that sleep eluded the dark-haired teen. He sat up and scratched his head, trying to convince himself his insomnia, the events in the barn at school and the harsh words he'd tossed at Heath were not related. He believed it too, right up until the time he fell asleep, despite his churning stomach. The last image he saw as he drifted off was a set of grief-stricken blue eyes. "Stupid little runt..." He mumbled, turning into his pillow

Nick glanced back twice to make sure his brother was still behind him. He eyed the other boy and frowned at the troubled eyes. Heath had been quiet all morning, even for him. Nick reined in Coco and waited. Heath continued past, not even noticing Nick had stopped.

"You mind keepin' it down, runt," Nick said sarcastically.

"Huh?" Heath blinked.

"You sick or somethin'? Nick quizzed gruffly, studying the slumped shoulders and tired face.

"Nope." Heath replied, spotting Cody waving ahead. "There's Cody."

"Yeah, I see him," Nick replied, "Is this about yesterday?"

"What?" Heath looked up and tilted his head.

"Talkin' to you is like gettin' a tooth pulled." Nick frowned, "Listen, runt, I didn't mean nothin' by it, okay?"

"Okay." Heath nodded.

Nick still didn't understand what caused him to lash out at Heath. He didn't understand why thinking about it got him all riled up. The whole situation gave him a headache. He was so lost in thought, he rode ride by Cody. The other boy chided him and caught up. The two tossed commentary back and forth until they reached the school. Cody steadied Coco so Nick could climb down. Nick turned and waited for Heath to dismount. Heath gave him a small smile and headed off to meet his friends. Satisified, Nick followed Cody into the west end of the school.

Heath didn't have much of an appetite. His mind was too busy and it made his stomach upset. He decided to take a walk at lunch. He wandered down the path and past the main entrance and turned left. Before he knew it, he'd wandered upon an old house. It might have been a nice cottage, with some cleaning up and paint. Heath sat on the top step and opened his lunch sack.

"Well, it would appear I'm not the only one seeking refuge from the heat."

Heath jumped up and turned to see a tall man with white hair and a mustache. He was dressed in a fine suit and leaning on a cane with a silver wolf's head. Heath didn't reply at first, but studied the man's face. The blue eyes crinkled up at the corners when the old man smiled. Heath felt his tension leave, he decided it was okay to trust the man.

"I didn't mean to squat on yer porch" Heath answered, "I's fixin' on eatin' lunch, 'afore I hafta get back."

"Far be it for me to come between a growing boy and his midday nourishment." The man offered with a smile, "Please, continue with your meal. I do not own this property and dare say whoever did vacated this area some time ago."

"That mean nobody lives here?" Heath cocked his head, trying to figure out the odd speech.

"It does," The man replied, "Please continue, I wouldn't want you to rush the digestive process."

Heath sat down and opened his sack. He took out the ham sandwich Silas fixed for him and a large peach. "Like half?" Heath said, holding up half his sandwich.

"A kind and generous offer," The man smiled, "But a growing lad like yourself needs a proper diet."

"S'okay, I wasn't plannin' on eatin' much of it anyhows," Heath slumped, "My stomach ain't in the mood."

The wise gentlemen studied the small face and saw too much trouble for one so young. He withdrew his pocket watch and weighed his choices. He sat down and held out his hand.

"Since we'll be dining together," He said, "The gentlemenly thing to do is to introduce ourselves. My name is Wallingford." He offered his head and smiled at the small face that screwed up.

"I'm Heath. That yer first name? For real?" Heath asked, cocking his head as the man with the kind smile nodded. "Sure seems like a awful lot of letters to be totin' around. Don't it ache yer jaw none?"

He laughed heartily and slapped his leg, "My young friend, truer words were never spoken. Most days it's quite cumbersome." He said taking the half sandwich, "Thank you, Heath, your most kind."

"Iffen ya have more than 'nuf, ain't right not to share." Heath shrugged.

"A true humanitarian, how very refreshing," He noted taking a bite. He saw the boy barely nibbling and frowned. "What burdens you so?"

"I'm in rite bad fix," Heath shook his head, "I need a job."

"Difficulties with your capital?"

"No Sir," Heath shook his head, "I need the money" he looked up hearing the soft chuckle.

"What qualifications do you have?" He asked, then saw the puzzled face. "What can you do?"

"Most anything." Heath took a bite and thought. "Done lots of jobs...worked for near on three years at the livery. Cleaned the rooms at the hotel, worked in the mine..." Heath stopped "I don't cotton to havin' to do that again."

The old man's smile faded at the boy released his list. The boy couldn't be more than eight or nine years old. "Well, you certainly are a man of many talents. What is your current occupation?"

"I ain't had to work since last winter." Heath finished his sandwich.

"And what circumstances caused your unemployed state?"

"Huh?" Heath squinted.

"The reason you are not working anymore."

"Oh," Heath nodded, cutting the peach in half. "My Mama died. Here ya go. They're rite good, real juicy."

The old man nodded, swallowing hard at the boy's simple statement. "Thank you Heath. I'm sorry about your mother."

"Me too," He sighed, "We was a real good team. She was pretty, just like an angel; smilin' all the time. Sang like one too." Heath smiled, remembering. "We was doin' okay, but then she got sick. She didn't smile no more. I'd hear her cryin' at night, 'cause I's draggin' home late from workin'. It sure did hurt alot."

Unable to respond immediately, he placed a hand of comfort on the boy's shoulders. "I miss my mother too, Heath. Do you live in this area?"

"Yes Sir," Heath answered, "I just moved here. Sure would like to get a job after school. Just for a hour or thereabouts, so's I'd get home for supper."

"Hmmm...There must be business in town that would hire an enterprising young man like yourself."

"What's enterprisin'? Heath asked.

"Hard working."

"Oh...well, town'd be too far for me to get home." Heath stood up. "Reckon I better get movin' on. " Heath stood and held his hand out. "Sure was nice breakin' bread with ya."

"The pleasure was all mine, young man. Will you be dining here tomorrow?"

"Reckon so, why?" Heath shrugged.

"Since you were so generous sharing your meal, I'd like to return the favor. Same time?"

"Sure." Heath said and tugged on the man's sleeve. "How come yer wanderin' around in yer Sunday clothes?" He asked, brushing the dirt from the man's coat sleeve. "Ain't ya gonna get a earful for gettin' dirty?" Heath cocked his head as the kind man's eyes light up and a deep laugh followed.

"Oh, my young friend," His eyes twinkled, "You are a most refreshing respite from this dreary world. Your concern is duly noted, and I shall try not to be scolded."

Heath looked him over good and nodded, "Ya ain't wrinkled none and the dirt brushed off. Reckon y'ell pass." Heath walked with the man to the edge of the gate and waved as he scampered off.

The porter at the train station jumped up when the tall distinguished visitor entered. He couldn't believe his luck. His mouth nearly went dry at the sight of his customer.

"The name's James sir, anything I can help you with?" The eager clerk eyes bulged at his guest. "I'm at your service."

"Very good, James." He handed him a ticket stub. "Please remove my bags, I'll be staying on in Stockton. Have them sent up to the hotel. Were is the Telegraph office?"

"Up the street, next to the bank."

"My thanks," He said, tossing a silver dollar at the boy.

"My pleasure," The youth enthused, pocketing the generous tip.

After sending a wire notifiying his family of his intentions, he went into the bank. The teller recognized him and immediately escorted him to the president's office. The gray-haired bank president nearly fell off his chair.

"Mr. Standish...I...it's a pleasure. What can I help you with?"

"I'd like information on a property outside of town, next to the Stockton School. A cottage with a porch and rose garden."

"I know it well. It's been vacant for several years." The bank executive said, rising to get the documents. "I'm sure we can come to an agreement."

After bathing and changing, Wallingford Standish made his way into the Cattleman's club. He groaned inwardly as he well meaning, but annoying aide chased after him.

"Mr. Standish" He called out, nearly losing his spectacles and paperwork, "I've been looking for you all day. Why didn't you come back to the train? You can't just wander around, it's dangerous."

"Percival, please, I'm not some doddering old fool, drooling and helpless." He snapped. "Believe it or not I was taking care of myself long before you were born. I'm staying on here for awhile. I won't be requiring your services. I'll wire you daily."

"Staying on..." The aide frowned, "What for? We met our obligation at the breakfast meeting. You're not needed back here until next month."

"You're wrong, Percival." He said, thinking of his enchanting young friend, "I'm very much in need. Perhaps for the first time in many years."

"Hey, Pa!" Heath scrambled from the barn, and ran across the yard.

"Hello, Son." Tom grinned, catching the flying blond boy and gave him a good hug. "How was your day? I missed you at breakfast."

"I missed you too." Heath said, tugging his hand, "Hurry up, Silas made a roast and it sure smells good."

"I'm sure it's still there," Tom chuckled, as he was pulled towards the back of the house. "Did you finish your chores?"

"Yes, Sir." Heath nodded, stopping to wash his hands and face at the pump outside the kitchen. "I helped Buck cleanin' in the bunkhouse, I put hay down and clean water for the horses and I brushed down Lancelot and Paladin."

"Paladin?" Tom stopped, looking at his son in wonderment. "How did you decide on that name for your horse?"

"It was one of the words on my list, ya know from the book..." Heath looked up.

"Ah...The Three Musketeers." Tom nodded, stopping in the kitchen to grab a hot biscuit and waving off Silas's glare.

"Yeah, anyhow, Jarrod give me his dictionary 'afore he went away." Heath paused, "I'm real careful with it, iffen I ever dropped it, reckon it'd bust my foot."

"I reckon it might," Tom chuckled, sitting on a kitchen chair and pulling Heath onto his lap.

"Well, I been lookin' up the words and fittin' them to the sentences they come from. I read paladin and from the sentence I thought maybe it meant like brave or fearless. It said..." He paused and pulled out a paper . "Uh...a leading champion. I thought that was a rite fittin' name for 'im. Do ya like it?" He peeped upwards.

"I think it's a fine name, Son, just perfect" He said giving Heath a hug and standing up, "Just like you."

"Come on, best we get to the table, Nick's in a fussy mood and he's likely to eat anythin' that don't walk off his plate. I got my eye on them little crunchy potatoes, Silas made." Heath said, making his way to the Dining Room..

Tom eyed his family as the serving platters were passed around. Heath's spirits were high, Audra chattered about her new friends at school and Nick." He paused at the dark brooding eyes. Nick was troubled by something, or maybe he was just suffering growing pains. It seemed like forever since he entered his teens, but recalled many mood swings.

"How was your breakfast meeting with Standish?" Victoria asked.

"Good." Tom replied, "He's quite a man. I've admired him for many years. It was a pleasure to finally meet him. Peter seemed quite taken with him. He's been a large contributor to the school."

"So he's agreed to come to the Fair next month?"

"He not only agreed to be a judge, he's donating a sizable amount in prize money." Tom saw Nick wince as his wrist hit the edge of the table. "How's the wrist?"

Nick didn't reply, his gaze was intent at a spot across the room. "Nick? Nick are you alright?" He asked, leaning forward.

"Huh?" Nick blinked, seeing his father's concern. "Yes, Sir, I'm fine. Just a little tired." He replied pushing his empty plate away and tossing his napkin on the top of it. "I got a lot of homework. Can I be excused?" He asked and exited as his mother's consent.

"Did Doctor Merar look at him?" Tom worried, "He hasn't been himself since he fell yesterday."

"Yes, the nurse at the infirmary took Nick to see him. I got a note from Howard. He said it was a mild sprain. He's not Jarrod, Tom. He's entering a difficult stage in his maturation. If it persists, I'll talk to him."

Nick closed the last book and laid across the bed. He wondered how the snickers and echoes of distasteful slurs rolled of Heath's back so easily. Why didn't he hear them before? Today they seem to follow him everywhere. Why did it make him so angry to be near Heath? He rubbed his eyes and felt the lack of sleep. He dozed off and slept fitfully, interrupted by dreams of menacing faces and insults.

Heath ambled over to the abandoned cottage, whistling and kicking stones along the path. His spirits were high again today, Aaron was still out sick. He waved as he trotted up the path.

"Hey Wally, how are ya?"

"Wally?" the older man repeated.

"That's alright, ain't it?" Heath replied, cocking his head, "Takes too much time to get the rest of it out and my tongue gets all twisted up."

"Wally it is, then." Standish laughed, waving his arm, "Shall we?"

"Oh, No, Sir," Heath backed away from the door, "It ain't right to go bustin' into somebody else's house."

"Not to worry, my young friend," He replied, taking out a slip of paper, "The bank has a customer interested in this property and I have retained the right to prepare it, for a fee. How about it? Partners?" He extended his hand.

Heath eyed the house, the hand offered and the house again. He swallowed and his eyes narrowed. Standish saw the hesitation and nodded, admiring the thought process the young boy had. Not rushing to judgement or leaping into a situation without looking at all sides.

"How much?" Heath finally asked.

"Two dollars a week." Standish answered and bit back a grin as the studious blue eyes widened.

"Each?" Heath asked, heart hammering.

"Certainly, " he nodded , "There is a lot of work to be done. I thought a complete inspection would be in order."

"Yeah, I reckon." Heath agreed, stepping inside the door. He couldn't believe his luck, two whole dollars a week. He'd have money left to put in the bank. He eyed the rooms carefully as they went through the house. A good size parlor, a nice, sunny kitchen in the back, a small pantry and two bedrooms finished off the cozy cottage. A gathering of weeds disturbed what would have been a nice garden. For a moment, Heath saw his Aunt Rachel, on her knees, caring for vegtables and flowers.

"Sure would be be perfect for Aunt Rachel..." He thought aloud.

"Aunt Rachel?" Standish inquired, seeing yearning on the small face.

"Yes Sir," He nodded. "Aunt Rachel helped Mama raise me. Hannah did too. But Hannah died with Mama last winter. Me and Aunt Rachel was doin' fine, then they took me away."

"Where was this?"

"Strawberry." Heath answered, sitting down on the back porch step.

"Does your aunt still live there?"

"Yeah, but she's movin' here soon. Ain't nuthin' left for her there. Not after what they done. She's gonna work with Mrs. Graham, makin' dresses and stuff. Ain't that great? I can see her all the time."

"That's wonderful Heath." He opened the basket he'd been carrying and took out two containers. "Now you must eat all of this, you'll need your strength."

"Yes Sir," Heath said, opening the metal lid and inhaling the steam with a smile, "Chicken and Dumplin's? Boy Howdy!"

Standish smiled as they ate and discussed the repair work to be done. "I shall procure the essential tools necessary this afternoon."

"I can't come after school today. I gotta watch out for Nick and clear it with my Pa."

"Is Nick one of your friends?"

"No, Sir, he's one of my brothers; his arm's hurt. I got two big brothers and a little sister."

"Good Heavens. You inherited quite a family. How is it that you arrived here?"

"Well," Heath said, taking a long sip of lemonade, "Some men came and took me away, said Aunt Rachel couldn't keep me no more. I went to the Good Shepherd home up north a piece. It was real nice there, I sure liked it. I met Patrick and Dante there, they're my best friends. Anyhow, my Uncle Matt and his wife took me away from there."

Standish looked down at the pregnant pause and saw the pain on the young boy's face. He was about to tell Heath not to continue if he was upset, but then he spoke again.

"He wasn't much of a man," Heath whispered, "He wasn't much of anythin', 'ceptin a mean drunk." Heath gulped air and his fists clenched. Standish didn't have to ask, he knew what the blue pools were hiding and winced painfully. "Aunt Rachel found my Pa and he rescued me. He sure is something, Wally." Heath's sunny smile returned, which relieved the older man. "There ain't nuthin' my Pa can't do. He's about the best Pa around, I 'spect." Heath decided.

"Nick goes to school with you?"

"Yes Sir, he's thirteen. I reckon nobody in these parts can ride and rope like Nick can." Heath boasted. Standish finished his lunch as his young associate spoke of his brother, his face glowing.

"Finish up, Heath," He encouraged, noting the time. "I can't have my partner gaining a reputation for being tardy."

"Come again?" Heath squinted.

"Late, young man. Your classes are due to begin shortly."

"Oh," Heath said scrambling. "Thanks for lunch, see ya tomorrow." They walked to the end of the yard and Heath turned again. "Hey Wally, don't forget to wear yer other clothes tomorrow. Ya can't work in yer Sunday clothes."

"A good observation. I shall heed your advice. Good Day."

Nick eyed his younger brother carefully as they rode home from school. Heath's good mood only soured Nick's further. It seemed whatever hallway he was walking down or whatever room he entered, he heard the whispering. He glared angrily at gossip mongers and that usually cut the idle chatter. Nobody wanted to mess with Nick Barkley, even with only one hand. The more he thought on the madder he got at himself for being so angry. He was so lost in thought, he didn't notice they were in the barn. He swung a leg half over and a tug on his pants caused him to look down.

"Nick," Heath chirped, "Hey Nick, You gotta be careful."

"Huh?" Nick blinked, feeling the small hand on his arm. "Whaddya doin'?" He snapped, tossing off the assist. "I been climbin' off Coco long before you got here."

"Quit jawin'," Heath scowled and grabbed Nick's good arm, "If ya fall and bust the other arm, y'all will be spittin' nails all the time, and my nerves can't take that."

Nick slid off the horse and pulled his arm back, glaring at the small blond. "Your nerves! How about my nerves?"

"Aw, quit bellyachin', Nick," Heath tossed, grabbing his brush and heading for Paladin. "I's only tryin' to help. Go on and break yer fool neck, see if I care."

Nick winced and stood in the middle of the barn. "Damn little runt." He mumbled and started to walk away, then turned back. He stopped just short of Heath. "Uh...listen, when you're done, come over to the corral and I'll show how to rope."

"Really?" Heath spun around, eye's lit up. "Ya ain't too wore out or nuthin'? Don't ya need to rest yer bad wrist?"

"Rest?" Nick scoffed, "That ain't a word in my vocabulary."

"Iffen yer sure," Heath nodded, "Thanks, Nick."

"S'okay, runt," Nick grumbled, "Might come in handy with me having a bad arm and all."

Buck ducked down and watched the two boys working through the window. A smile split the craggy-featured face. "Hey Duke, Tom..." He motioned with his head. "I told ya that little colt would find a way to work on Nick. Ain't that a fine sight."

Duke's grin matched Buck's as Nick stood behind Heath and showed him how to loop and toss the rope. They were practicing on the gate. It didn't take long for the blond boy to get a handle of the action. Duke found his smile broadening as Nick's scowl turning upside-down. Behind Heath's back, his older brother wore a grin a mile wide. "Looks like Nick's warming up to Heath, Tom." He commented, and turned to face his friend. "Tom...."

Tom's face was beaming at the sight before his eyes. Nick's guiding hand on Heath's shoulder, Heath wide-eyed, absorbing everything Nick told him. Then when Heath turned and the efforts of his advice was readily visible, Nick's wide grin and glint in his eyes.

"Sure seems like a rite good fit." Buck noted, going back to this kitchen, "That little yeller-haired fella is just what Nick needed."

"Buck's right," Duke noted, resting a hand on Tom's shoulder, "That's a picture that's real easy on the eyes. Those two boys of yours are real thoroughbreds."

"...and then some," Tom agreed, his voice tight.

Tom finished drafting the week's list of supplies, signed the payroll voucher and went over the bridge repair schedule with Duke. "Go on, Tom. I can finish up." Duke offered.

Tom made his way over and bit back a chuckle as he listened to the two boys banter.

"Hey, Nick, I's gettin' good with this rope." Heath gibbered

"Don't get cocky Heath, it's a wood post." Nick growled.

"But I'm doin' good, ain't I," He crooked his head backwards to look at Nick upside down.

"You doin' alright." Nick tossed, "Keep your eyes on your work."

"Hey, let's go try a cow." Heath turned his head backwards again.

"Let's not." Nick grumbled, "You stick to wood, I'll decide when you're ready for something with a face." Nick ordered loudly, turning the head rightside up.

"Well, Nick, looks like you're gonna have some competition at the rodeo next spring." Tom teased, gripping each boy's shoulder.

"Hey Pa, Did ya see me ropin?" Heath cried excitedly.

"I sure did, Son." Tom ruffled the pale hair. "You keep practicing and you'll do fine. How's the arm, Nick?"

"I'm fine, Father," Nick shuffled.

"Well, I'll leave you two to your work. I have some paperwork to do in the house." He gave Nick's neck a squeeze and left the pair.

"Well, I better go brush down Coco. I'll see you at supper."

"I done that already, Nick." Heath turned his wide eyes on Nick's arm.

"You didn't have to," Nick snapped, "I don't need both hands to take care of my horse." He winced as soon as the words came out. Why does he keep giving me them damn cow eyes?

"Sorry, Nick," Heath mumbled, and hooked the coiled rope over the fencepost. "I don't feel like ropin' no more. Thanks for learnin' me."

"Aw hell," Nick muttered as the downcast boy walked away. "Hold up, Runt." He trotted over and stood beside his brother, "About Coco, thanks,"

"S'okay. I best get to puttin' the hay and water out. I got a lot of homework to get to."

"I'll give ya hand." Nick offered.

"Ya sure?" Heath looked up, and wrinkled his face, "I ain't used to workin' with cripples."

"You watch your mouth, Runt." Nick's gruff voice replied, "I only need one hand to lick a little pest like you." He said, pushing the blond forward.

Tom was in his study reviewing a large produce contract. He got up to get a brandy and saw Heath sitting quietly on the chair across the room.

"Heath, I didn't hear you come in," Tom made his way over and sat next to the boy.

"I was waitin' 'til ya got done. I had somethin' to talk to y'all about." Heath paused with a little grin, "Yer head was all wrinkled up, like ya was puzzled about somethin'"

"Peaches." Tom answered, "But I'm never too busy to talk with one of my children. What can I do for you?"

"Well, I was wonderin' if it'd be alright if I stayed after school for about an hour to help out. I know my way home and I'd still get my chores done 'afore supper. So can I?" He cocked his head.

"Help out how?" Tom asked.

"Just cleanin' up and stuff. " Heath answered carefully, not wanting to lie.

"With who?"

"Wally...he's kinda old and he needs some help sweepin' and cleanin' up. So's it okay?"

"Alright, but you're to be home by four-thirty, no later."

"Yes Sir, thanks!" Heath said. "I'll let Nick know, it'll give him something to grumble about."

By Friday, the cottage had been swept out good. Heath tacked list to the walls of each room as well as the front and back porch. It contained the work to be done in each area. He crossed off each item when completed.

The old gentlemen hadn't felt so alive in years. The guileless little lad was a quite a charmer and he felt genuinely disappointed when their time each day ended. Heath eyed the silver coins in his hand on Friday at noon and his smile would have lit up the town. Standish chuckled and patted the small blond head.

"You earned every cent." He noted, having seen how very hard the boy worked. He frowned when Heath handed two coins back. "But Heath, two dollars a week is what we're being paid. Why are you giving me a dollar?"

"For the supplies ya bought. We're a team right? I got lots of time to work on gettin' some money." Heath said seriously, eyeing the older man carefully, "'sides, I don't want y'all havin' to worry on workin'. Grandpa's should only worry on tellin' stories and rockin'. So y'all should keep it."

It wasn't often that Wallingford Harriman Standish was at a loss for words. The letters formed but stuck in the middle of his chest. He eyed the small hand folding his own over the coins and swallowed hard. He cast his moist blue eyes heavenward, sending silent homage to the strong woman who raised such a boy alone. He felt pain when he thought of his children and grandchildren, jaded and greedy. He didn't want to offend the boy, and felt the warmth of the coins in his hand.

"Thank you Heath," He said, patting the proud shoulder, "Now you clean up and get back to class."

"Yes Sir," He nodded. As he turned to leave, he tugged on the older man's sleeve. "Ya go back home at rest. Don't be out here by yerself. I don't want ya gettin' sick or nuthin. 'kay?"

The silver-haired man patted the boy's back and nodded, feeling his chest tighten again. "Okay, partner. I'll see you after school."

The older boys, over twelve were on the west side of the large brick building. Heath was crossing through the schoolyard, headed for his history class, when a beefy arm grabbed him and forced him behind the wall.

"Alright you little bastard, where's my money?" Aaron demanded, flicking the blade of the knife in front on Heath's face.

"Get your hands off of me!" Heath growled, shoving the older boy and tossing the coin at him.

"Good little whelp!" He mocked, "Nice doin' business with you. Course, I might just carve up that loud mouth half brother of yours anyhow."

Heath heard the snide laughter as the gang of six walked off. He rubbed his neck where Aaron grabbed him and walked to his class. His head hurt from the bully's words and tone. He'd have to watch Nick good, so's he wouldn't get hurt.

The warm days of September graciously bowed and left the ball as October entered wearing a brilliant orange and crimson gown. She waltzed effortlessly, her crisp air and golden rays led the days away. All around her, the changes were evident. Harvest time was in full swing and there would be much to celebrate in this bountiful season.

Heath yawned and stretched, enjoying the last few minutes of that time between sleeping and waking. He slipped from the bed and dressed quickly. He pulled the silver coins out of his pocket and padded over to his closet. He pulled out the wooden cigar box and dropped the coins inside. That made thirty, he frowned as he replaced the box. One week from today was the School Fair. He's project was done and he couldn't wait for everyone to see it. He shook the box and felt his stomach hurt again.

Some weeks were better than others. Aaron ignored him most of the time and that was good. But instead of feeling better about having the money to save Nick, with each passing week, he felt worse. Wally even noticed and that worried Heath. The kind old man meant alot to him, and they'd become good friends. The house was almost done. It was cleaned, repaired and painted. After they cleaned up the front and back yard, their job would be done. Just in time for the School Fair. Wally promised he'd come.

But despite all that, Heath was miserable. He'd gotten into the habit of following Nick around and that didn't set well with his dark-haired brother. The first few weeks, he'd taken to following Nick whenever he left the confines of the ranch. Nick caught him every time and launched into him but good. It seemed his name was replaced by 'Quit followin' me around runt!', which Nick pontificated with a growl, shove or collar choke. It even spilled over at home, Nick's moods darkned and the slightest thing set him off. More than once Pa had to pull them apart. It couldn't go on like this.

Nick threw his clothes on and winced, touching his swollen lip gingerly. Damn little pest, stickin' to him like some kind of leech. Every time he turned around, Heath was there. He thought it got better near the end of September and beginning of October. The little runt had finally found something to do after school and on weekends beside torture him. But then two weeks ago, he'd become a pest again. Like a damn shadow, wearing his patience out. That's what led to the brawl by the river yesterday and the swollen lip. What bothered him the most was the look in the runt's eye. Nick couldn't place it, but it made him uncomforable. He looked like a bad stomache ache, a forced pain. Didn't say a word...clammed up about why he was stalking him. He started down to breakfast and saw Heath's door open. He stuck his head in and saw the empty bed. He was about to turn, when he spotted the smaller boy sitting cross-legged in the closet. Nick frowned as he studied the blond's face. There it was again, like he had a bad stomach ache.

"Get up off the floor," Nick growled, causing Heath to jump and slide the box in haste. "What are you hiding back there?" He came forward, his hazel eyes searching.

"None of yer business," Heath defied, jumping up and pushing Nick away, "Ain't ya ever heard of knockin'?"

"The door was open," Nick defended, "What do got hid in that closet?" He continued past the fiesty boy.

"Get away from there," Heath hollered, shoving Nick hard and sending him to the floor. "Get out of my room!" He yelped, throwing himself at Nick.

"What's going on in here?" Victoria asked, coming in the room. Both boys stared up at her and then began speaking at once. She held her hand up and silenced them with a gray glare. "Heath, it's your room. I'd like an explanation."

"He come bustin' in here without knockin' and ...and...it ain't right." Heath stammered.

"Nick, is that true?"

"Well, Mother..." Nick protested weakly, "You didn't see him. He was sitting in the closet with his face all in a mess. I didn't think about knockin'. Then he went crazy and started hollerin'"

"In the future, Nicolas, kindly remember your brother's privacy. Do not enter unless Heath invites you first."

"Alright," Nick grumbled, climbing to his feet. He thought of his mother's aversion to having animals in the house. "But he's got something hidden in that closet. I wouldn't be surprised if it were a baby squirrel or some stupid animal."

"Heath?" Victoria cocked her head. "Is there something living in your closet?"

"Of course not!" He hollered, then dropped his head, "I mean, No Ma'am. It's stuff for my school project is all."

"Does that meet with your approval Nick?" She asked, eyebrow raised. Nick hated that face. It was worse than facing a gang.

"Yeah, I guess. I'm eatin' with the hands today at the bunkhouse. Is Father coming home today?"

"Yes, his train gets in at four p.m."

Victoria waited until Nick left and walked over and sat on the bed. Heath made no move to join her. She wanted desperately to heal whatever was wounding the boy. She'd noticed the change in him. At first, she attributed it to the incident at the pond, the day he took the admission test. Something definately happened that day that built a wall between them. Oh, he was polite and obeyed her, but he stiffened at her touch. He didn't hug her or kiss her or even smile or laugh with her. She'd tried everything. But there was something else troubling him. She patted the bed and motioned with her hand. He meekly consented and sat next to her, keeping a safe distance.

"What's wrong Heath?"

"Nuthin'"

"Why won't you talk to me, Honey?" She held back the urge to brush the golden locks from where they hid his eyes.

"I's fine. Nuthin' much to say. I don't mean to rile him up, Ma'am. It ain't his fault. I guess I been houndin' him a bit lately."

"Is there a problem at school?"

"No, Ma'am. School's fine." He stood and pocketed his hands, "I'd better get goin'. Nick and me gotta finish painting that fence 'afore Pa gets in today. I sure do miss him." He finally looked up, his blue eyes longing.

"Yes, I know," She said distractedly, envious of the want in his eyes when he spoke of Tom. Would he ever want her like that? "You listen to Duke and try not to fight with Nick."

"Yes Ma'am."

She watched him leave and stood. She paused at the bedside table where a picture of Leah rested. "I'm not your competition..." She mused out loud. "Doesn't he know that?"

Nick eyed the brilliant blue sky and sun overhead. Saturday. High Noon. He put down the paintbrush and surveyed the work. They were right on pace and should be done by three or so. He walked over to the wagon and took out the basket Silas packed. He turned to where Heath should be and frowned. Where did he get to? He moved his head around and saw the blond squatting over a pile of rocks. He placed the basket in the shade and walked over.

"Come on, it's time to eat." He called, but Heath didn't seem to hear. He walked closer and tapped him on the shoulder. "Did you hear me calling you?"

"Yeah...Hey, Nick, I think I saw something moving by that rock," He leaned over with his hand to touch the spot, when Nick pulled him back harshly.

"What's the matter with you!" He barked, retreating and pulling the smaller boy with him. "That was a snake. You don't go messin' with them. They like lying in the sun. That's just what I need. You get bit by some snake and Father would most likely shoot me."

"I didn't see it, Nick. I didn't know." Heath protested.

"Well you do now." Nick hollered, forcing him to sit. "Not eat something. You didn't hardly eat any breakfast and I don't need you keelin' over out here. Then I'd have to finish your half of the fence too."

"I ain't much hungry." Heath protested.

"I ain't askin' ya." Nick barked, shoving the sandwich and jug of lemonade. "I'm older, I'm in charge and you're gonna eat every bit of that."

For several minutes they munched in silence. Heath looked over at Nick and recalled Mrs. Barkley making a big fuss about dinner. More than usual. She heard him telling Silas about a cake and a fancy dinner. Maybe Nick knew.

"How come we're havin' a party tonight? Is it somebody's birthday or somthin'?"

"Nah..." Nick mumbled through a full mouth. He took a large gulp of lemonade and continued. "Don't know about the reason. We ain't gotta birthday until Mother's next month. Maybe it's just cause Father's coming home."

"I sure do miss him." Heath said of his absent parent, gone on a business trip for ten days.

"Yeah, me too." Nick added.

"When's your birthday Nick?"

"March. Jarrod too. Audra's in June, Father's in April. We get to pick whatever we want to eat and Silas makes whatever kind of cake you want. Then we get to open the presents." Nick shook his head. "Wait until you see how Audra carries on...whining and crying if she don't get her way. She must have every toy in San Francisco already."

"Sure sounds nice..." Heath said, pushing the half eaten sandwich away. He thought about his last birthday. It started off good. Rachel made him pancakes for breakfast with blueberries. He got a new knife and he went to Mama's grave to show her. His face darkened when he remembered seeing that squinty-eyed minister standing by the churchyard. He left the flowers for his mother and tried to slip past the scary man, who was blocking the gate. He'd heard every private word Heath told his mother. "...bastards don't have birthdays, they're the devil's spawn and should never should have been born." Heath breathed, lost in thought and unaware his painful memory went airborne.

"WHO TOLD YOU THAT!" Nick roared, dumping his lunch and gripping Heath's shoulders roughly.

"Huh?" Heath blinked, and his lower lip trembled. Nick's face was all twisted up and it scared him. "You're scarin' me Nick." He wavered.

"Answer me!" Nick demanded. "I want to know! What fool told you that nonsense?"

"The minister..." Heath gasped, shrinking at the raging face before him.

"From your church?" Nick's hot eyes burned and he bared his teeth. "...stupid son-of-a-bitch."

"You ain't supposed to say things likes that!" Heath's eyes grew wide at Nick's foul mouth.

"Neither is somebody who's supposed to be a preacher..." Nick shoved Heath so hard, he fell over. Heath watched Nick unsuccesfully try to control his anger. He paced and seethed, kicked the empty lemonade tin and finally punched the side of the wagon. Heath winced and made his way to his brother's side. Nick felt the light tug on his sleeve as he flexed his stinging fist.

"s'okay, Nick. It don't bother me none. I's used to folks sayin' things like that."

"It ain't okay." Nick turned and gripped his brother's shoulders and stared at him hard. "Don't you ever let anybody talk to you like that. Do you hear me? If I see you drop that head and walk away after hearing filth like that, I'm gonna bust you but good. You understand?" Nick growled and watched Heath mutely nod.

They made their way back and finished lunch. Heath's face didn't show it, but he felt ten feet tall inside, every time he looked at Nick. His big brother sure was something else.

"Listen up Runt," Nick said harshly, "You had a mother and you have a father. That means you ain't a...well you ain't what he said. You wore born, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then that day is your birthday. Same as me, Father, Duke or even that horse of yours. That's final and I won't let no fool say any different." Nick tossed as he picked up his paintbrush.

They finished their task in silence. They cleaned up and packed the wagon. Nick gave Heath a boost up on the back, as Duke's horse appeared down the road. It was almost three o'clock and right on time. Nick climbed up next to him and wiped the sweat off his face. He felt a tug on his sleeve as he took a long gulp from his canteen. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and saw the blue-eyes filling up. He tried not to look, but there they were, and sure enough, the pain in his gut followed.

"What?" Nick grumbled

"It's May 15th." He said proudly, squaring his small shoulders and sitting up tall.

Nick grinned and gave a small chuckle. "Well, alright, Runt. Good for you."

"Anybody home?" a voice boome from the front door.

"Tom?" Victoria sauntered from the back of the house and embraced her handsome husband. "You're early. We weren't expecting you until after five."

His response was a prolonged kiss. "Does that answer your question, Lady?" He murmured against her throat.

"PA!"

Tom turned and his face split into a broad grin. He bent down and was nearly bowled over by a flying bundle of boy. "Hey Tiger! How are you?" He gave the boy a hug and kiss.

"I sure did you miss you. I think maybe next time I outta come too."

"I missed you too, Son."

"Hey Pa, we're havin' party. Ya outta see the big cake Silas made. It's got all kinds of flowers on it, but not for real, the kind ya can eat." Heath babbled, tugging at his father's hand. "and me and Nick been workin' hard. We painted the fence...wait till ya see it...and..."

"Hey, Chico."

Heath froze and his blue eyes grew like saucers. Tom felt the boy ease out of his grip and turn around. "DANTE!" He screamed and flew across the room, landing in his old friend's chest.

"Ouch!" Dante winced backing up, "Watch were you put that hard head of yours, I bruise easily."

"I'm sorry," Heath backed up flinching at the flashback of his friend's bloodied body.

"I was kidding, Heath." Dante ruffled the blond hair, eyeing the boy he'd missed so much, "I'm fine now. You look great, Kid."

"Thanks, but seein' y'all makes my eyes hurt." the blond said, rubbing the moisture away. "Hey, you picked a rite fine time to stop by. We're fixin' on havin' a party." He tugged as Dante's hand. "Can Dante come to our party?" He asked Victoria.

"Dante is the reason for the party." Tom answered. "He's all healed and coming to stay live with us. Why don't you take Dante upstairs and get him settled in."

"The room with the green and white walls, Heath, around the corner from your room."

"Yes, Ma'am." Heath nodded, they eyed Dante and the two adults. "I can't hardly believe it..." He gasped.

"Are you a Prince?" a small voice asked.

"Of course he ain't no Prince, Audra." Heath shook his head and turned up to his dark-haired friend. "Don't pay her no mind, she's just a girl."

"Well he looks like a Prince, doesn't he Mama?"

"Yes, Dear," Victoria smiled at the blush Dante wore easily, "He certainly does."

Dante squatted down and kissed the small girl's cheek. "Thank you, Audra. If I were a Prince, I'd marry you. You're prettier than any Princess."

Audra giggled and hid behind Tom's legs, peeking out at the handsome stranger. Dante's grand tour ended at the bathroom. Heath took the opportunity to wash his hands, while Dante sat on the edge of the tub and waited.

Nick had taken a bath before dinner. He'd eyed his father's homecoming and the newcomer's entry. He was now dressed and headed down to dinner. He paused as he passed the bathroom, hearing Heath's voice.

"...ropes better than Nick. Wait till ya see him ridin', he sure is somethin'. He's been teachin' me to shoot, but I ain't never gonna be as good as Nick."

"Slow down, Chico, " Dante laughed, "You wearing me out. Sounds like you got a real good brother there. I'm happy for you Heath."

"He sure is...y'all wait and see."

Nick felt like a mule kicked him. He trotted downstairs and glanced backwards, wondering on Heath's unflagging loyalty. He spotted his father walking toward the study and followed him. He knocked on the door and waited.

"Father, Can I come in?"

"Sure, Son." Tom turned and waited for his middle son to approach. He gave Nick a hug and wondered about the cross face. "Problems?"

"How can we get a preacher fired?" Nick blurted out.

"What?" Tom chuckled, backing up and studying Nick's face. His smile faded when he saw the serious intent in the hazel eyes. "What brought that on?"

Nick shuffled his feet and struggled, playing with the miniature cannon on his father's desk. The paper weight was a favorite of his. "Well, I've been thinking it would be better for us to get him fired..." Nick paused "or I'm gonna have to shoot him."

Tom nearly choked on the whiskey he was sipping. "Can I ask who this intended victim is?" He sputtered, coughing up the burning beverage.

"Some fool minister in ...in...uh...Strawberry." He remembered.

"What did this man do that offended you so much?" Tom rested his hands on Nick's muscular frame and gripped his shoulders.

"He told Heath a bunch of nonsense about him not having a birthday cause he's a...well you know." Nick mumbled, looking down. "Spoutin' fool told the kid he was from the devil."

Tom swallowed hard and expelled a long breath. A part of him ached for the pain Nick felt inside but had no idea of how to handle. The other part of him was proud of the man child before him, whose integrity was growing by leaps and bounds. "Nick, this world is full of men like him. Weak, small-minded cowards who prey on those they consider inferior, due to race, religion or birth. Bigotry comes in all forms, even disguised in a minister's coat. Part of what makes this country so great is that they're are heros who fight for the rights of those people. Don't you ever lose that fire, Nick."

"So, I can't shoot him?"

"No, Nick." Tom's lips curled up.

"Aw, hell, why not?" Nick scowled, and for once his father didn't cuff him. "It scared me. today, when he was talking about it. I swear Father, if I had a gun and that fool was standing before me..."

"You couldn't kill a man in cold blood, Nick."

"How can you be so sure?" Nick asked, thinking of his hot temper.

"Because of that pain you felt today. That's the difference. That morality that's inside you."

They walked towards the door as Silas announced dinner out in the foyer. Tom was behind Nick and paused at the door, gripping the back of the boy's shoulders. "Thank You." He choked, causing Nick to turn, his brow's furrowed.

"What?" His dark head cocked at his father's full voice and emotive eyes.

"For being my son."

Dante shifted nervously in his chair and ate his breakfast sparingly. Victoria and Tom exchanged a glance and Tom put his fork down.

"Something wrong with the food, Dante?"

"No, Sir," Dante looked up, "It's delicious. I just...I guess I'm not very hungry."

"And..." Tom prodded, sensing something else lurking behind the boy's eyes.

"Well, I don't want to cause any trouble with the men. I mean, what will they think? They're in the bunkhouse and I'm staying up here. "

"Every man who is in my employee knows better than to question my judgement. Furthermore, they have all been appraised of your arrival, something I will verify this morning. You're only sixteen and I'm your guardian for two more years. That means you reside under my roof."

Dante nodded and resumed eating, still nervous, but that reassuring voice and commanding presence made him feel stronger. He'd spent some time with Nick and Heath the night before. He liked Nick, and sensed the rebel inside the boy. He smiled at the bond that the two younger boys shared. Nick was still fighting and Dante theorized one day it would only make their bond stronger. They were tailor made for each other. Heath's eyes followed Nick wherever he went.

"Ready to go?" Tom asked, standing in the doorway.

"Yes, Sir," He answered, "Thanks for breakfast Ma'am" He nodded to his hostess and left.

Friday came all too quickly and Heath put the finishing touches on the garden path. He'd lined up several smooth rocks to outline the plots of ground and path between. The last week was cleared away, the fence fixed and painted and the house was now complete. He wondered why he felt so sad. He sat on the back steps and resting his head in the palms of his hands.

"You look like you have lost your best friend."

"Hey Wally," Heath said withouth looking up.

"You've done a fine job, Heath. You should be proud."

He sat next to he boy, who nodded. He felt a bit down himself. He'd enjoyed these last eight weeks of freedom. No stuffy board meetings to attend, no society blowhards to kiss up to, no condensending children taking his livlihood away. Yes, he'd miss this little boy, who had more integrity than most adults he'd encountered. They'd kept their friendship on anonymous terms, on a first name basis. From the clues he'd picked up on, the boy had spent his early years in meager terms monetary, but wealthy in love. This new family, his father's, had embraced him and he seemed to be thriving.

"I sure am gonna miss ya, Wally." Heath's voice tightened.

"As I will you, my young friend," The older man returned, his chest full.

"You got any grandkids?" Heath cast a fast glance sideways.

"Yes, I have four grandson's and two granddaughters. They live in San Francisco, not far from me."

"Oh." Heath's voice nearly disappeared, "They's real lucky. I ain't got no grandpa."

Standish swallowed painfully and thought of his grandchildren. Through no fault of their own, spoiled from birth and drowning in oppulance, they'd never have the fiber this boy bore so easily. Maybe there was still time, the three younger ones were still impressionable. He made a vow to himself to become more active in their lives.

"The bell is about to toll, Heath," He rubbed the boy's back.

"Yes, Sir," Heath said, not looking forward to his meeting with Aaron. They walked to the end of the gate. "Oh, I almost forgot," Heath fished inside his jacket and brought out a small crudely wrapped bundle. "This is for y'all."

The old man's hands trembled as the brown paper fell away to reveal a small carved horse. It was a fine little wooden piece and he fingered the details on the mane and head. Hours of work went into the gift and his full eyes gazed at the craftsmanship.

Heath mistook the man's silence for disappointment. His shoulders slumped and he shook his head. "I wanted to get ya something special, so's ye'd remember me. But horses are what I do best. My mama told me that iffen ya make something, it's comes right from the heart."

He'd been raised back east in an air of formality and polite exchanges. He never recalled either of his parents hugging him or bestowing any sign of physical affection. This was a mistake he'd passed on to his own family. So it took him by surprise when he dropped to his knees and embraced the small boy. It felt good; it felt damn good. He backed away and took the boy's face in one hand.

"Young Man, I could never forget you. It would be an honor to be your grandfather. This is the finest gift I've ever received. Your mother was correct. I shall treasure it always." He choked, wiping his eyes and slipping the little horse into his pocket. He'd never be without it, keeping it in the pocket over his heart from that day onward.

For many years thereafter, at every board meeting, negotiation session, investment exchange and every other gathering, the little horse came out the breast pocket and stood proudly. He kept it with him at all times, it became his signature piece.

"Yer comin' on Sunday, ain't ya?" Heath asked, relieved that his friend like the present.

"Ah, yes," He nodded, "The Country Fair. Wild horses wouldn't keep me away."

"Good." Heath nodded, "I'll see ya there."