He stopped in to see Dr. Wallace after he dropped the horse off. He shared a sandwich and some coffee with the doctor and filled him in. The doctor left briefly and returned with a letter. He handed to Heath.

"Where you get this?" Heath said.

"The post office sent a fellow to Strawberry to close up the branch there. This letter was undelivered. The old guy in the saloon told them you came here. I've been keeping it for you."

He thanked the doctor for all his good work. He ran to catch the train. It would get him into San Francisco about 7 p.m. He settled into the seat and opened the letter as the countryside rolled by.

"Dan Burke" He said aloud.

IT was a name he hadn't thought about since the war ended. Dan was a captain he served under, who became a close friend. The letter was 2 months old. Dan had been living in Golden, a mining town in Colorado in the mountains. The town was booming, full of mines. The letter was from a lawyer; Dan's had suffered a fatal heart attack inside the mine he owned. Heath saved his life during the war and Dan always said he'd pay him back. Dan willed him the Rosebud, his silver mine. He wouldn't keep the mine, but he needed to get away to think. Maybe a trip was what he needed. Time to think and reflect in a place far away. Somehow find a way to fill the huge void he felt inside. Before he knew it, he was at Jarrod's house.

He unlocked the door and made his way to the kitchen. Jarrod always kept the icebox well stocked. He got out some ham and cheese and made a sandwich. He made his way into the study and shut the door over. He sank into the overstuffed chair and dozed off.

"I asked you to come here because I need your help Nick. I want your input; the railroad war is escalating."

"And." Nick said unconvinced as he sat down at Jarrod's kitchen table.

"WE need to talk about your hostility towards Heath."

Heath heard the door slam and sat up as the voices got louder. He stood frozen with his hand on the knob.

"Look, how I feel about him isn't your business. I don't want to talk about it."

"We have to talk about it. He's coming home soon. You heard what Red said. He left Santa Barbara a few days ago. Nick, why are you so bitter to him? He's your brother and he needs you."

"I ain't stopping him from coming to the ranch or living there. Father is all fired up about him. Can't wait to get him home and spend time with him. I'll live in the house with him and I'll work with him, but I don't have to accept him as my brother."

"Nick, don't you think that's a little selfish, not to mention childish? He hasn't done a thing to you except stand by you and defend you. Why he does is beyond me. You certainly have deserved it of late."

"Never mind me, what about Mother. Have you thought about her? Having a child born out of wedlock around all the time. Don't you think every time she sees him, she'll remember Father straying?"

Their voices were right outside the door. Nick's words hit Heath like bullets. He never thought of that. She was the other victim here. She had her trust and heart broken. Was that what she would see? Some child her husband had by another woman? She has to look at him every day. He thought of the kind woman in the garden. He couldn't hurt her. Every time she would see him with his father, she'd remember. something else to think about. The hole inside got bigger. He heard their footsteps and sank down behind the chair. It wasn't necessary, they left the house.

Heath waited a full five minutes before lighting the lamp. He took his time and wrote two letters. He left them on the desk; he left Jarrod's key there too. He made his way back up the dark street. He would sleep at the station tonight. He would telegraph Lyle Miller, the attorney who sent the letter. He would be in Golden by the end of the week.

Nick hadn't said anything since they left the house. The restaurant was a favorite of Nick's. He and Jarrod always ate there when he was in town. They specialize in oversized steaks and lobsters. They decided to have a drink in the lounge before dinner.

"This place is going to the dogs. Look what just crawled in." Nick pointed.

Jarrod spotted the source of Nick's disgust. Clint McClain came to the Valley a few years after Tom Barkley. Both had visions of building an empire. But where Tom Barkley soared, Clint McClain failed. He voiced his bitterness toward the Barkley's at every given opportunity. Jarrod heard a rumor he was working as a spy for the railroad. He resumed his stance next to Nick, turning his back to the intruder.

"Well, now, sure is nice to see the Barkley brothers looking civilized. Isn't one of you missing? Oh, that's right, they don't let his kind in here. Did you tie him up outside where half-breed's dogs like him belong?"

Nick moved so fast Jarrod missed what actually happened. He looked down at McClain's dazed form and saw Nick shaking his hand, wincing.

"Nick?" Jarrod surprised voice didn't match his face.

Nick stopped to give McClain a look that chilled the prone man to the bone. He continued into the restaurant. When Jarrod caught up to him, he was still cloaked in anger. He remained silent and glaring. They ordered and Jarrod poured them each a glass of wine. Finally, he thought he saw the tension leave Nick's face.

"You okay, Nick?"

"I don't know Jarrod."

Nick's dark blue eyes seemed sad when he looked at Jarrod.

"Why am I fighting this so hard? I like him Jarrod. Hell, he's a brother anybody would be proud to have. But, I just can't let the resentment go."

"Nick, you just won the first round back there with McClain. You defended Heath on reflex. I think you're angry with Father. He's not the larger-than-life idol he was before. It was a long time ago Nick. He was young, vulnerable, hurting. He and Mother worked all that out. She's doesn't resent Heath, Nick. She's fighting harder that any of us to get him home."

"Yeah, I know that. I don't why I even said that back there. I'll talk to Father tomorrow when we get home."

Nick remained silent during most of the meal. But Jarrod had struck a blow. Nick was hurting inside and now that he admitted to it, the healing process could start. They were having brandy and cigars in the bar when Nick held up his glass.

"Thanks big brother. Looks like I'm going have to learn some of your tricks before the boy comes home."

"Salute Nick" Jarrod smiled.

The train pulled out early and Heath never looked back at San Francisco's coastline. He would travel on the Union Pacific as far as Cheyenne, WY. where he would transfer to the Denver-Rio Grande line and get off in Golden. The whole trip would take four days. He used his hat to shut out the intrusive sun. He welcomed the blackness and dozed off.

"Come on Jarrod, we're gonna miss the train" Nick finished another cinnamon roll and drained his coffee. The day began well, with a full breakfast and a new start. He felt much better than he had in the last week. He was anxious to get home and hoped that it wouldn't be long until Heath joined them. More than anything, he wanted to say he was sorry.

Nick found Jarrod sitting at his desk in the study. He didn't like the look on this brother's face.

"What's the matter?" He said approaching the desk.

"Heath was here last night." Jarrod said hollowly.

Jarrod's words stopped Nick in his tracks. He stood dumbfounded.

"Wait a minute. When? How?"

Jarrod sighed heavily and held up the box. He threw the key across the desk. He fingered the short letter. The other sealed envelope was addressed to his father.

"He heard every word Nick. He's gone."

Nick snatched the letter and sat down in the chair by Jarrod's desk and seemed to have a hard time catching his breath.

Jarrod took the letter back and saw the gray look that briefly left his brother's face, reappear. He tried to find a way to get through.

"Don't Nick."

"Don't what, Jarrod" He said angrily as he headed for the door. "Don't blame myself. Maybe you're right; maybe I should congratulate myself. Nick Barkley, the man who managed to banish and destroy his brother twice in one week."

Jarrod caught him by the front door and stopped the fist before it found the wooden frame.

"Look, he's being just a stubborn as you. He has to face his fate sooner or later. He's only making the road home longer. He'll be back, Nick. He left the box, I think that's his way of protecting himself. Besides, we don't know what he told Father."

"No, we don't. But I read his words. He would have never left if I didn't open my big mouth and mention Mother. You read it Jarrod "I can't hurt your mother. I won't be a reminder to her." I did that to him. Jesus, as if he don't have enough problems."

"Come on Nick, let's go home."

The train ride seemed twice as long. They saw the Barkley carriage in the depot. Andy was waiting for them. Jarrod stood to leave and Nick sat froze n. His pained eyes finally met his brother's. Jarrod walked back and gave a pat to Nick's back.

"What am I going to say to him Jarrod?"

"The truth Nick. He's missed you this last week. Just be honest with him."

Tom was gone already when they got home. Jarrod briefed his mother in private and Nick left on Coco. It was late when Tom returned from another long meeting. He slid off Buck and handed the reins to Ciego. He was about to go when Ciego grabbed his arm.

"Senor Nick, he is in the barn. He is very upset."

"Gracias, Ciego"

He hadn't seen Nick since he got back from Santa Barbara. Nick avoided him like the plague. Leaving before breakfast, eating dinner in the bunkhouse and not being home whenever possible.

"Nick, I can't tell you how sorry I am for how what's happened. I know I hurt you. We need to get over this and make things right. "

Nick looked up from the forge and nodded. He made his way past his father and over to the end stall. He stared at Charger, keeping his back turned he spoke.

"Another long meeting?"

"Yes, It seems for every step we make forward, we take two sideways. But Jarrod is confident we're making progress."

He watched Nick stroke Charger and approached the pair.

"He really admires you Nick."

Nick didn't say anything but Tom knew by his expression how much he regretted what he did.

"He told me "Nick looks you straight in the eye and shoots from the hip". He said you were the only one who was honest with him that night."

"Yeah, that's me, a real diplomat" Nick scoffed.

Tom rested his hand on his troubled son's shoulder and was relieved that it stayed there.

"Tact may not be your strong suit son, but you're the most honest man I know. Your brother sees that in you too. He's a good boy Nick. He was shooting fire when I first got there. But we talked it out. He needs us Nick, and I know you need him. Despite the act you're putting on, you miss him."

Nick paced the floor and clenched his fists. Twice he looked at his father. Tom was reminded of the boy's school days when he was in trouble. It was that same look. He stopped the man in motion.

"What have you done? Talk to me Nick."

Nick opened and closed his mouth, but no words came out. Whatever is was, it was eating away at him. Tom held the shoulder tight and advised him.

"Just spit it out son."

"I'm not mad anymore, Father. We had a long talk last night. Jarrod finally got through to me."

"Nick, that takes a weight of my mind. I've been so worried about you. I..."

"Let me finish, Father. Jarrod and I stopped at his house before we had dinner last night. I was still angry then. I said some stuff about Heath. That maybe..."

"What? What is it?"

"We didn't find out until this morning. Heath was there, in Jarrod's study. He heard every lousy word I said. Here, he left these."

Nick handed him the two notes and stood by Charger. Tom stared at his son's back and proceeded to read the note for Jarrod. He opened the note in the unfamiliar hand and read the heartfelt script.

"Father, I want you to know I intend to keep my promise. I'll be back when the time is right. I need to find something. I don't know what it is yet. But there is an emptiness inside that I can't seem to fill. Tell Nick, he's done nothing wrong, and not to break anything. I respect Mrs. Barkley more than anyone knows and could never hurt her. Take care. Your son, Heath"

Nick heard his father's gasp and turned to see the note on the floor. He saw the tears in his father's eyes. He picked up the note and handed it back.

"No, son. You need to read it. He'll be back, he gave his word. The word of a Barkley is as good as done."

Nick read the note and silently handed it back. They started to the house when his father suddenly stopped.

"What is it?" Nick asked

Tom turned to him and smiled. He put his hand across Nick's back.

"Did you see how he signed the letter? "Your son, Heath." Three short words, Nick. You can't know what they mean to me."

Nick nodded and held the door open

"Yes sir, I think I can. It's written all over your face.

He went down the line and counted twelve in all.

"You kin?"

"Good friend of Dan Burkes. When did this happen?"

"Three days ago. Terrible thing, 12 men lost. He was a fine man. You wouldn't be Mr. Thomson, by any chance would you?"

Heath stood and nodded. The old timer pointed to a well-dressed man in black by a long table under a tent. He directed Heath to see the man. Heath waited until the man looked up.

"Yes? Can I help you?"

"I'm Heath Bark...Thomson. Are you Mr. Miller?"

"Please come in, Mr. Thomson." He motioned to a wooden stool nearby.

"Dan was a fine man and a good friend. This mine turned quite a nice profit for awhile. This week's disaster ended that. The engineers shut it done. There is a little money left from the Rosebud. IF you come into Denver tomorrow to my office, we'll settle things"

"Whatever's left, you give it to the families. They need it more that I do."

The solicitor advised Heath that he was meeting with the beneficiaries in the morning. If Heath want to settle, that would be the time. He told Heath how to find the courthouse. He told Heath there were comfortable rooms at Mrs. Cooke's Boarding house. Heath took the address and left, still numbed by the cold air and the chilling news. The first thing he did was purchase a warmer jacket, wool and fully lined. He ate dinner and went to bed early. He looked out at the starless sky and wondered what his next move would be. Sleep soon claimed him.

Denver was a growing city and he quickly found his way to the courthouse. Mr. Miller met him and they went over the assets. There was a pretty fair amount and divided 12 ways, it would help feed the widow's and offspring of the doomed men. Heath met each family and expressed his sympathy. It brought back too many memories. He couldn't tear his eyes from a young woman with 2 small children. She looked like another was on the way. She cried all through the name-calling.

"I'm so sorry. You lost your husband?"

She nodded and continued to sob. He opened her hand and put some silver in it. She looked up startled.

"You take it, ma'am. You got little ones to feed."

"God Bless you." She said through her tears and shook his hand.

The sun warmed his face in the chilly air on this Saturday morning. He sat on a bench outside the courthouse and contemplated what to do. He stood and saw a man passing by. He inquired where the nearest telegraph office was. Thanking the man he departed.

The telegraph office was on the south edge of town. A Bank and Gold Exchange was next store. Heath was lost in thought and almost heard the warning too late.

"Hey mister, look out."

He stepped back as a boy about fifteen or so on a paint horse galloped by and shot him a look.

"Sorry" Heath shrugged

The boy was about to enter the bank when shots were fired. Four gunmen with masks came running out of the bank. The bank guard was in pursuit. A gunman, dressed all in black, grabbed the kid and held a gun to his head.

"Back off or I'll shoot him."

The guard stayed in the doorway. Heath was hidden in the doorway of the telegraph office. He watched them mount up and fire. He saw the terrified eyes of the boy plead with him. They galloped away and he jumped on the boy's paint and took pursuit.

They headed south, firing at Heath and the guard. The guard was killed and Heath rode on, dodging bullets and returning fire. He hit one of them and the others stopped and took cover. The one he hit was the one who grabbed the boy. Heath motioned for the boy to stay put but the boy panicked and bolted. Heath saw the wounded outlaw take aim at the boy.

"Look out" Heath cried and threw himself at the boy as a volley of shots rang out.

The impact sent the two of them down a slope. They landed in the soft snow below. The wounded gunman looked across to his brother who eyed the two figures below.

"They're finished. Let's get out of here, before the law comes."

The James gang rode off and left two bloodied figures lying silent in the snow.

The violent shivering woke him up and he was immediately sorry. Any attempt at keeping his eyes opened was rewarded with blinding pain. He was face down in the muddy snow. Heath realized the grunts he heard were his own. He snaked his hand up the side of his face and winced as it met with his bloody scalp. He managed to lift his upper body up and turn himself sideways, propped up on his left elbow. He twice swallowed back the bile that rose, but realized that was a losing battle. He hauled himself up on his knees and let the sickness out. He crawled a few feet away, towards the boy's body. He fought against the descending blackness and felt for a pulse.

The boy was alive and Heath saw the crimson stain covering the upper chest. He frowned at the lightweight jacket and opened it to reveal blood on the upper left shoulder area. He turned the boy enough to see the bullet went straight through. The movement caused the boy's eyes to flutter. He tried to hear what the boy was saying, but the kid was too weak.

The stranger's face loomed above. It was so hard to see and even harder to speak. There was no memory of the morning's events. They were on the ranch weren't they?

"Pa? Is that you?" The weak voice hoped.

Heath tried to comfort the boy, but the kid passed out. Heath saw the paint horse at the top of the slope. It wasn't very far up, but steep. The angle of the sun told him that it wasn't noon yet. The sooner they got to safety, the better. They would never survive the bitter cold night. He needed to stop the kid from bleeding.

Heath felt a wave of dizziness and fought against passing out. He leaned back against the small tree. It was several minutes before he could continue. He fished out his knife and cut away the long tail of the kid's shirt, which was already exposed. He rubbed his eyes at the blurry vision. He fumbled with the buttons on the kid's shirt. His vision wasn't clearing up. He knew the wound was somewhere in the fleshy area beside the collarbone. He felt his way up the boy's chest and retracted his hand as if it hit a flame.

"Sorry Miss" He apologized to the still form. "But I gotta patch this hole up."

He applied pressure and was grateful for the cold snow, which helped. He folded a large piece of fabric and placed the patch on the wound, securing it with the remaining bits of cloth. The girl was freezing. The light jacket she wore was soaked, as was her shirt. He took off his coat and wrapped her in it. He was glad he wore a heavy flannel shirt. He closed his eyes and soon felt his hand squeezed.

Her shoulder throbbed and so did her head. She squinted into the sun and then turned her head from side to side. She saw him leaning against the tree. His face was covered in mud and blood Bits and pieces of the morning's events drifted through her mind. The bank, the man in the street, the robbers and the shooting. He startled her in the street and she nearly ran him down. His features were hard to discern through the blood, mud and sun in her face. She reached towards his hand.

"Thanks" Her teeth chattered; she offered her hand "I'm Cat."

His head seemed too heavy to lift away from the tree where it rested. He got his eyes half open, she was still blurry, but at least she was awake.

"I'm Heath. Where are we?"

"Not far from the ranch, just southeast of here."

He started to fall sideways and caught himself.

She cringed as she saw the exposed head wound. The left upper portion of his head was covered with blood. Black spots started to cover her field of vision.

He couldn't open his eyes; the pain and strain were too great. It was taking every ounce of strength he had to stay semi awake. He took several deep breaths and looked up the hill. The paint was still there, faithfully waiting on his owner. Heath tried to assess the situation. He glanced at her and back at the hill. He crawled over to her and shook her gently. There was no response. He grasped her under his right arm and crawled along, pulling her with him.

So they crawled up the hill, a painstaking effort that took forever. He never remembered being so cold. His clothes were soaked and he shivered constantly. He prodded and poked along, resting every few feet. Finally, they crested the hill and lay exhausted. He allowed himself to rest awhile. He was very dizzy and knew if he passed out, they'd be finished.

Heath looked at the horse and the effort of climbing on him seemed too hard to comprehend. He sent a prayer upwards and slowly got to his feet. He staggered and went to his knees a few times, but managed to steady himself. He led the horse back to where Cat was lying. He took a deep breath and bent down to pick her up. He went to his knees but didn't drop her. He gritted his teeth; his exhausted body seemed to buckle. He got her on the horse and his unsteady legs tried in vain to find the stirrups. He fumbled several times and feared he might fall. Finally he gave a great cry and pulled himself on the steed behind her. He fell forward, panting and pulled her close to him. He turned the horse towards the direction she gave. The horse seemed to take control. He was glad of its steady pace and confident stride. His blurry vision and throbbing head were no good to either of them.

"Go home boy" He urged.

Scott Brogan raked a hand through his shoulder length black hair. His dark eyes found his wife's blue ones across the room. She rocked her two-year old Matthew, kissing the blond hair and crooning in his ear. Satisfied that he was sleeping, she placed him on the thick quilt on the floor in front of the fire. She welcomed her handsome husband's arms as they embraced.

"We'll find her Meg. She's as good a rider as I've seen. She can handle herself."

The door opened as his mother-in-law and the marshal entered. Of all the times for his father-in-law to be away. Cat was just seventeen and full of fire. For sisters, she and Meg were like night and day. Meg was 7 years older and was never the tomboy Cat was. He left his wife and kissed his mother-in-law. He squeezed her hands.

"I'll bring her home. I promise."

The sheriff rode in shortly before noon and told them about Cat being snatched from the bank in town. The witnesses said a man chased after the gang. It wasn't much, but a little hope was better than none. They covered the road that the bandits took for quite a distance. Now they would split up. The sheriff would continue on the original path. Scott and the hands would cover the ranch and due north.

" Go bye-bye Papa?"

Scott ruffled his four-year old son's dark hair.

"Yeah, I gotta go out for awhile. Sean, you be good for your Ma and Grandma"

"We're almost there, Cat. Hold on" He muttered into the top of her auburn hair.

He saw the riders in the distance. The late afternoon sun warmed his face. His eyes were heavy and he swayed as they closed. His last thought was that the riders were calling to them. He tried to respond, but no words would come. Heath fell into the snowbank and lay still.

She fell forward on Thunder's neck and stirred slightly. The next thing she heard was a voice and felt the strong arms pull her back.

Scott climbed onto Thunder and held her close.

"I got you Cat. You going be fine."

"He's back there... saved me."

Scott saw the prone figure in the snow several yards back.

"Okay, take it easy. You heard her, Randy, Max get him to the house. Ted, you ride to town and get the doctor."

The house was a flurry of activity. Cat was taken to her bedroom with her mother and sister following behind. He could hear his mother-in-law giving Meg directives for hot water, soap and bandages. He waited out front for Randy and Max to arrive. Max rode in first and jumped down and took the unconscious man from Randy. Randy and Max carried him in the house and paused in the large room. A fire burned in the huge stone fireplace. Scott looked up the staircase, which split at a landing, with rooms on each side and a bathroom in the center.

"Follow me, we'll put him in there." He indicated the door above with his right hand.

Scott ran ahead of them and started a fire. He grabbed the blankets off the bed and threw them on the floor. He instructed them to place the frozen, muddied man near the fire. He knelt down and was relieved to find a good pulse. The limp hand was frozen.

"He freezing. Get these wet clothes off him and cover him with that quilt. I'll get some water and we'll clean him up."

Scott knocked on his sister-in-law's door and waited until Meg answered from inside.

"How is she?" He worried.

Meg came out in the hall and relieved his mind.

"It went clean through, Ma doesn't think their any bones broken. She's lost a little blood, but I think she's going be fine."

"You got any hot water left? The fella we brought in with her is in a bad way."

Meg wasted no time handing her husband the large basin of warm water. He carefully made his way into the room. Scott knelt by the stilled form. His face and hair were covered in mud and blood. He gingerly dabbed at the sticky scalp, a move that initiated a cry. He wrung the cloth out and wiped the grim off the man's face. The more he wiped, the more he frowned. When at last the face was uncovered, it was Max who spoke.

"Hey, Scott, do you see what I see? Who is this guy?"

"I don't know, Cat mumbled something like Heath..."

"I DO" a familiar loud voice bellowed behind him.

"His name is Heath Barkley. He's my grandson."

Blackjack used his cane to support him as he knelt by the boy's side. He turned Heath's head and scowled at the laceration.His eyes absorbed the features so like his own. Tom couldn't have described any better in his letter. He picked up the limp, icy hand and frowned.

"Scott, put his feet under your shirt, Max you do the same with that hand."

Blackjack took the boy's other hand and placed it under his shirt. He heard Scott gasp loudly as the warmth of his chest met the frozen feet. He rubbed his hands briskly over Heaths as did the other two. It worked and soon the boy was warm enough to be placed on the bed. Max left to return to the bunkhouse. Scott left Blackjack with the newest family member. He entered the hall as Dr. Becker came up the stairs. Scott filled him in and walked with him to Cat's room. She was sleeping and the doctor wasted no time cleansing and bandaging the wound. He gave directives to Kate Barkley, Cat's mother and left some pain medicine. He kissed his mother-in-law's cheek.

"She'll be fine, Kate. Cat's a real fighter."

"I know. I hope she learned her lesson this time. It's high time for her to stop dressing like that. What until her father gets home."

John Barkley would be returning from Durango the following day. Cat was the apple of his eye, a little hellion who feisty disposition kept the family busy. Her reddish hair and green eyes suited her.

"Uh, Kate, it's about the fella that brought Cat in."

"Oh heavens, I'd forgotten about him. Is he all right? "

"He's got a nasty crease on his head. That's not the half of it. Wait until you see his face. Blackjack says he's Uncle Tom's son, Heath Barkley."

Blackjack sat by the bed and re-read his son's letter. It arrived just a week ago. The contents of its many pages took the elder Barkley by surprise. From the beginning of "Father, I've done something that will come as a shock." through to the end where Tom's acceptance and desire to bond with his son came through clearly. Tom had Jarrod draw up all the necessary documentation to ensure Heath would be financially equal to his siblings. Tom told his father all about Heath. When the letter first arrived, Blackjack didn't know how to feel about this new grandson. One look at the pale face so like own, struggling to live changed that. This boy was a Barkley and had suffered enough. A weak voice and movement interrupted Blackjack's thoughts.

Heath's muddled first thought was how cold it was. He felt the soft mattress beneath him and relaxed. He tried to sit up and cried out when it seemed like an axe hit his head. The pain jostled his eyes open a little. He reached out to the fuzzy form bending over him. A blurry white haired man with blue eyes was near.

"Red? Red?"

Blackjack smiled at the mention of the name. He took the boy's hand and held on tight.

"RED! Boy, them eyes of yours must be tearin'. I'm helluva lot better looking than that scallywag."

The loud voice startled Heath, but the tone was very familiar. He tried hard to see the man's face. He closed his eyes and shivered again.

"It's so cold."

Blackjack's hand rested on the flushed cheek. It was warm and the old man knew it would be a long night. He pulled another blanket over his grandson and tried to calm him.

"That's a fever working in you. You rest easy, son. You're with family. You're safe."

Heath squinted and finally saw the face clearly. He shrank back into the pillow and stared at the features so like his own.

"Who are you?" He asked

"I'm your grandfather, boy. I'm Blackjack Barkley."

"The girl..."

"My boy John's youngest, your cousin Cat. She's gonna be fine."

Heath tried to find the old man's face, but it seemed far away. He heard his name but couldn't seem to speak.

Blackjack saw the boy's eye's roll and hollered for the doctor. He called Heath's name over and over without any response.

Kate and Scott both entered the room after the doctor. Kate shocked face met her father-in-laws from the foot of the bed. Her green eyes went from the youth on the bed to the old man beside it.

"If I didn't see it, I wouldn't believe it." She said to Blackjack

"Caught me by surprise too, even though Tom said the boy favored me. Good looking rascal like his grandpa!" Blackjack boasted.

Scott smiled at the man, who they all loved so much, the patriarch of this fine family. He watched the doctor carefully and saw more than a little concern.

"He'll be okay won't he?"

"I don't know Scott. It's a bad wound and he's got a chill. He's young and strong; we can hope that he can fight off the fever that's building in him."

Scott took his family back to their own home, just across the way. Blackjack sent Kate to bed and remained by the boy's bedside. He worked with the doctor to bring the boy's fever down. He thrashed in his delirium and was reliving the past. From his jumbled speech they heard a boy trapped in a mine cave-in and then the blues eyes shot open and he struggled to leave the bed. It took both men to restrain him. His voice protested as he grabbed for Blackjack.

"I'm okay sir, I got separated from my outfit. We got the Rebs pinned down. I gotta go."

"Boy, I'm ordering you to get some shut-eye. We'll move out in the morning."

Blackjack saw the tortured eyes relax and he eased Heath back onto the pillow and covered him up. Tom never mentioned the boy was in the war. Too damn young to be involved with that. He couldn't have been more that a kid himself. He saw the mouth moving and leaned in, rubbing the shoulder.

" `night Major. I'll be ready by sunup. I'll..."

"Good night son. I'll be right here waiting for you."

Saturday night, Stockton

Nick and most of the men were in town at the saloon. Saturday night was always lively at Annie's. There was music, card games and lots of drinking. Josh decided to call it a night early and head back to the ranch. He drained his beer and made his way through the crowded room. He was almost at the door when a conversation drained the color from his face. He heard the low voices and it all came back to him.

"It's been over a month, he ain't comin back," Hawkin's voice slurred.

"Good riddance to bad trash, no good bastard was ruinin' my life." Smith's drunken reply spilled out.

"Yeah we sure fixed him good." Hawkins concurred.

Josh's eyes grew wide and he wheeled and threw himself on Smith. His furious fisted flurry left the troublemaker on the floor. He was about the launch himself at Hawkins when he was interrupted.

Andy and Nick both jumped up from their card game and made their way to the melee. Nick grabbed him and Andy collared the other two. It was all Nick could do contain the angry cowhand.

"Josh! What the devil's got into you?"

"It was them Nick! They...They're the ones who..." Josh looked around the crowded room. He didn't want Heath's name more muddied than it was already.

"Who what?" Nick demanded.

Josh leaned over and whispered what he knew in Nick's ear. Andy had know Nick Barkley most of his adult life. He never remembered seeing him so angry. The black look on his face matched his toxic eyes. He glared at the two while addressing the bartender through clenched teeth.

"Harry"

The burly bartender made his way over to the tall cowboy. He wasn't happy with the bills Nick handed him.

"Aw Nick. Not the mirror, okay, It's new and all the way from St. Louis."

"Clear the room." was the terse reply.

Nick eyed the pair. Smith was still on the floor, seemingly unable to coordinate his limbs. Hawkins looked like a scared rabbit caught in a trap. He grabbed the cowering man by the collar and slammed him hard into the wall. He drew back the clenched fist and Hawkins squealed like a pig.

"It was all his idea. He was jealous of Heath. He wanted him gone."

Nick let go for all it was worth and Hawkins dropped like a sack of flour. Fear sobered Smith up somewhat and he faced the angry Barkley. He shoved Nick hard sending him through the table behind him. Nick landed a solid right to Smith's midsection and followed up with an uppercut to the jaw. Smith retaliated and the two drew a splintered trail through the bar. Finally Nick lifted the dazed villain by the collar and belt and sent him through the front window. Andy lifted Hawkins and sent him the same way. Josh stood behind Nick as he towered over the two lying in the street. Smith bloodied form could only stare up at the menace. Hawkins made a feeble attempt to flee. Josh went to grab him but Andy held him back.

"It's his fight, boy." He nodded at Nick.

Nick ended Hawkins flight with a hard kick to the ribs. He wrapped both hands around Smith's throat, cutting off the air supply. While the louse sputtered, Nick made his directive known.

"This was for him," he growled "and the hell you put my family through. If you ever show your miserable hide around these parts again, I'll make you a permanent member of the stone garden at the edge of town."

He released Smith and glanced at Hawkins.

"Do I make myself clear?" He growled.

Hawkins nodded and swallowed hard. His eyes never left the vested back as it turned and approached the sidewalk. Nick heard the click and wheeled at the same time Josh warned him. Two shots rang out simultaneously. When the smoke cleared, Smith was no longer among the living.

It was almost 11 p.m. when Scott returned. He heard Blackjack as he entered the room, which was illuminated by the fire.

Heath was shivering and shaking. He was mumbling in Spanish and English. His glazed eyes would open every so often and plead with Blackjack. The doctor was laying cool clothes from his shoulders to his waist. Blackjack was trying to keep the blond man still. Doctor Jenkins had known the Barkley's for over 25 years and the irate old man didn't upset him.

"Can't you do something about him tossin' like that? He's hotter than Lucifer's kitchen."

"It's the fever Blackjack. You've seen fevers before; until it breaks, it'll be a little rough. It hasn't gone up in the last few hours; I think he's stable. I'll be back tomorrow."

The doctor replied calmly. He pulled the quilt up over the stricken man, a move that didn't set well with the senior Barkley.

"Another blanket? I can't hardly find him now in that bed. How's he gonna breath with all them covers?"

Blackjack's bellow was met with weak laughter from the pile of blankets. He looked down at his grandson whose blue eyes were half-open.

Heath heard his grandfather criticizing the doctor. His eyes never left the old man as the two exchanged thoughts. He now realized why the booming voice and frank commentary was so familiar. He laughed at the thought of it. It was hereditary.

"What so damned funny?" The old man thundered.

"It's like he's here in the room." Heath mumbled.

Heath's was still smiling when Scott approached with a glass of water. He lifted the bandaged head and supported it, allowing the parched man to drink. He didn't know the young man, but his dark good looks and buckskin reminded Heath of an Indian.

"Thanks."

"I'm Scott. I'm married to your cousin Meg. You're gonna be just fine."

His dark eyes twinkled as he glanced over Heath's chest to Blackjack. Heath's eyes followed Scott's and then returned as he spoke again.

"He's the shy, retiring type. You'll get used to him real quick." He said referring to Blackjack

"Already am...s'like having Nick right here." Heath smiled as he fell back to sleep.

Scott saw the smile Blackjack wore and saw how worn out he looked. He rounded the bed and put an arm around the backbone of the family.

"You're beat. You get some rest. I'll sit with Heath."

"Leave me be, I'm fine." He snapped

"Sorry Blackjack, no dice." He said firmly, then softened a little when he saw how worried the old man was.

"I'll wake you if he gets worse. He's gonna need you tomorrow. You'll be cranky if you don't get enough sleep"

"I ain't cranky" He complained "Damn smart mouth kid. get out my way."

The old man finally agreed and approached the bed. He pulled off one of the blankets and paused to lean down.

"You quit that fussin' now, boy. You need to rest."

With a grateful nod and pat on the back to his dark-haired grandson, he left.

Breakfast was already well underway when Nick made his appearance. The full buffet matched the plates of the family seated. A lively discussion stopped when the bruised face took coffee and sat down. Jarrod winked at his father and then turned to his younger brother.

"Long night Nick?"

Nick didn't answer and rose to fill his plate. He was halfway through the pancakes and bacon when his mother's inquiry was heard.

"Nicholas, was there a problem in town?"

"Yeah" Nick replied resuming his attack on the helpless hotcakes.

"Well are you going to enlighten us with the details of the party?" Jarrod queried to the bruised form next to him.

Nick fork clanged loudly as it his the plate.

"Listen up, I'm only saying this once, since I would like to finish my breakfast. Phil Smith and Larry Hawkins were the..." Nick stumbled on the right word to use "mongrels who used Josh to get to Heath. Smith was jealous and wanted Heath gone. Hawkins is in jail."

He resumed his meal and the lawyer pressed on.

"Smith?"

"Dead" Nick said swilling down his juice.

"DEAD! How? What happened?"

Nick's fork found the plate for the second time. His exasperation soon followed.

"Oh for cryin' out loud. We had a fight, he drew on me, I had no choice. Are you done your cross- examination, Jarrod, can I finish my breakfast now?"

Nick's glare crashed into Jarrod's wide-eyed stare. Nick relented.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that Jarrod."

Suddenly Nick wasn't hungry anymore and pushed the plate away. They all knew how much Nick missed Heath. Sometimes on an especially long day, he would snap at the hands for no reason. They knew he missed Heath too and didn't press the issue.

Victoria decided to change the subject and ease up Nick's brooding.

"I assume since you're not wearing a suit, you won't be joining us for church?"

"No, Liberty is about to foal and I want to be with her."

Nick said as he rose to head for the barn.

"I'll drop you three off on my way to Mitchell's. He's wavering on signing the petition. I need all the signatures I can get to hold off the Railroad." Tom stated.

"Please Mr. Brooks, don't get another boy. Nobody can set them charges as fast as I can. I'm okay, I can work today. My ma's real sick, sir, I need the money for medicine."

Scott swallowed hard and firmly eased the troubled man back onto the pillows. He didn't know a lot about Heath's background, only what Blackjack mentioned during the delirious ramblings from the day before. Poverty had forced him into a mine as a young boy. The fear in his eyes reflected the desperate nature of his plea.

"You're right Heath, you're my best worker. Matter of fact, you're getting a bonus this week. I'll see to it your Ma gets her medicine. You get some sleep and get well."

Heath looked up at Mr. Brooks. He heard the concern in his voice. He felt better at the kind smile he saw.

"Thanks sir, I'll be better real quick. I gotta ..."

He didn't finish his thought. Scott eased him back on the pillow and was alarmed at how hot he'd become. He would have to be put in the tub. He turned to go to Blackjack's room and ran into his father-in-law.

John Barkley entered the house just as dawn peeked by his shoulder. He put his travel bag down and was about to make some coffee. He noticed the door to the guestroom was open and heard voices. He entered the room and stopped in his tracks when he saw the young man his son-in-law was tending.

"Who is he? What happened Scott?"

"John, I'll explain on the way to the bathroom. I need to cool him off, he's burning up."

John followed his son-in-law into the bathroom where he started to fill the bathtub. Scott peeled the covers off and they carried the sheet-shrouded blond out of the room. Once he was in the tub, they used a cup and a pitcher to cool him off. Heath fought them briefly, but he was no match for their combined strength.

"Keep his head, dry, we gotta be careful of that wound."

John couldn't stop staring at the features similar to his own, but just like his fathers. Scott was about to address his puzzled in-law, when John spoke.

"It can't be; My God is this Tom's boy Heath?"

"How did you know?" Scott surprised.

"Two letters came last week from Tom, one for me and one for Blackjack. Tom's letter to me wasn't as long as the one to my pa. He was troubled and wanted my advice. He mentioned his son by another woman. He said how bad he felt that he never knew the boy existed. He said the boy and his mother were poor. If I recall correctly, she just passed away. He said Heath was very mixed up about what to do. How on earth did he end up wounded in our house?"

"I don't know what he's doing this far from California. We found him yesterday at the edge of the ranch. He was in Denver, near the bank when the James gang robbed it." Scott paused.

John saw the look on Scott's face. Something was wrong.

"Kate. Was Kate in the bank? Was she hurt?"

"Calm down, John. Kate's fine. It was Cat. She..."

"CAT! What was she doing in town? How..."

"Let me finish. She was going to the post office next store. They ran out and grabbed her; took her hostage. From what the sheriff said, Heath jumped on Thunder and took off after them. There was an exchange of gunfire. Cat said she panicked and bolted. Heath pushed her out of the line of fire. Cat said he saved her life. A bullet went through her shoulder; doctor says she'll be just fine."

John rose and went into his daughter's room. She was sleeping soundly; the quilt was thrown off. He tucked it under her chin and kissed her forehead. He brushed the auburn curls out of her eyes. He remembered as a little girl, how she would complain when she had to wear a dress.

"Who wants to be a dumb old girl." She would sulk.

Watching her sleep he couldn't help notice what a beautiful young woman she was. Maybe this would scare her into resigning her tomboy ways. He kissed her again and whispered in her ear.

"I love you, sweetheart."

"...love you too Pa" she mumbled in her sleep.

He went back to the bathroom. Scott pointed to a large cotton blanket on the floor.

"He's cooled down. We'll wrap him in that and get him back in bed."

While Scott got Heath settled in bed, John made some coffee. He returned to the room as Scott was coaxing the young man to drink. He managed to put a cotton nightshirt on the bandaged blond.

"Come on Heath, one more glass. You gotta drink this."

"...rather have a beer." He mumbled

"Sorry cowboy not today, the bar's closed." Scott grinned as Heath's eyes closed.

They sat a table in the corner of the room. John kept glancing at the bed. Scott sipped the warm brew and commented.

"He's cooled down a lot, I think he'll sleep now. Blackjack stayed with him from the time we brought him in yesterday. I had a hard time convincing him to go to bed."

"I was wondering what his reaction was. We talked about it before I left Friday; he was upset with Tom. He's okay with the boy?"

Scott smiled remembering "He's more than okay."

"John? Is that you?"

Kate Barkley's pretty face peered into the room. Scott watched as his in-laws embraced. The love they shared shone through in their family. He thought of Meg and stood up.

"I'm gonna head home. I'll stop in later."

John waited until the front door shut and kissed his wife. She smiled up at him, taking in the lines at the blue eyes and the silver shooting through the fair hair.

"I missed you, handsome."

"I've only been gone 2 days, honey."

"It's cold without you." She said hugging him tight.

Heath looked across the land from where he lay in the dirt. Where were Nick and the men? HE remembered coming in exhausted, meeting back up with them on the trail. The river wasn't too far away, Nick had been pleased. Did they move the cattle already? Where was Charger?

He staggered to his feet and felt a shooting pain in his head. He grabbed it with one hand and weaved over to a small tree. He held on and continued up the road.

"WHERE THE DEVIL DO YOU THINK YOU GOIN' BOY?"

He wheeled as Nick screamed at him from the edge of the trail. He went to his knees and closed his eyes momentarily, warding off the pain. He looked up as the dark cowboy approached him scowling.

"Nick? Why did you move the herd without me? Why did you leave me Nick?"

He felt the strong hands lift him and put his arm around Nick's shoulders. He smiled at the sound of Nick's bellow, a sound he was fond of.

"You get back in that bed. Ain't you got any sense boy? Can't leave you alone for a minute. You stay put. Do I make myself clear?"

Heath's cloud of confusion cleared just enough for him to realize who was with him. A familiar voice in a strange setting. He over at his grandfather and was struck again. He laughed weakly. Blackjack commandeered the boy back to bed and covered him up.

"Cut that out." He chastised while he got the boy to drink.

Heath smiled at the old man as he felt the soft embrace of the pillow on his aching head.

"Thanks, sir."

"SIR! Hell boy I'm your grandpa, you call me Blackjack, like all my grandsons do." "How do you know me? Where am I?" Heath asked grimacing.

" You're at The Highlands, my ranch south of Denver. Your father wrote me a letter. He's real proud of you, son."

Blackjack frowned at the pained expression. "That damn doctor" he complained looking around for medicine.

"s'okay, sir, uh Blackjack. It don't hurt too bad" Heath's gasp and pallor gave him away.

Blackjack found the aspiring mix and stirred it into the water. By the time he turned back, his grandson was asleep.

"I'm fine Grandpa. Stop frowning like that, it ruins your good looks." Cat teased.

She was bathed and dressed in a flannel nightgown, sitting up in bed. Although she complained about the soup for lunch, her stomach thanked her. Her auburn curls fell around her shoulders and eye green eyes were bright.

"Girl, you are bound and determined to put me in an early grave. You're the prettiest girl in these parts and it's about time you started acting the part. You can't play cowboy forever."

"Don't start! You sound like Pa. He gave a long lecture today. What's wrong with me wearing pants and riding? I like it.'

"Your pa spoiled you. Should have stopped this nonsense when you were younger."

"You get some rest," He said kissing the warm head, "you still got some fever."

"Grandpa, is he any better." she asked.

"Hard to tell Cat. He ain't moved in hours. Maybe he's just worn out."

"He was so brave, Grandpa, you should have seen how he moved."

"He's a Barkley, girl, it's in his blood. Go on, now, git to sleep."

He stood at the foot of the bed as the doctor listened to Heath's chest. John saw the concerned look the physician wore. Before he could question any further, Blackjack spoke.

"How's he doin? He ain't moved in hours, and he's not breathin'good."

The doctor stood and placed his hand on Blackjack's shoulder.

"I'm sorry Blackjack, but he's not well. We just don't know enough about the brain to fully understand traumatic head injuries. The bullet graze was deep, he's just not fighting back."

Blackjack pushed him aside with his cane and walked to stand next to his son. He leaned over Heath.

"You hear what he said boy? He said you ain't fightin' back. You make a liar outta him. You're a Barkley, we don't quit."

John stood and the old man sat down. He invited the doctor downstairs for coffee and a sandwich. It was after 430 and the physician had spent most of the day tending to the two patients. A half-hour later they were on their way back upstairs with Kate behind them. Scott, Meg and the two boys were in Cat's room. They all heard Blackjack scream at the boy.

"Stay here" Scott ordered and joined his in-laws and the doctor in Heath's room.

Blackjack's alarmed face loomed over the bed. He had Heath by the shoulders and turned slightly to holler back at them.

"He ain't breathin'!"

Nick jumped off Coco and ran past Charger to his father's still form under a tree. Nick's horrified face took in the blood soaked shirt. His father's pallor and labored breathing told the dark cowboy what he couldn't accept: these were mortal wounds. He sank to his knees and reached out with quaking arms as the eyes opened.

Tom Barkley knew he was dying. He heard the anguished cry and opened his eyes. Nick's face reflected what Tom already knew. He raised a bloody hand to grab his sons'.

"It's bad son." He gasped

"Don't talk Father, save your strength."

"Gotta get this said boy, I'm dying...can feel the chill."

"Who did this?"

Nick sat perpendicular to his father. Tom's head and chest rested on his son's legs. Nick was fighting a losing battle trying to stem the blood flow.

"Hired help." Tom coughed "McClain and a stranger. Railroad sent them. Don't let them win. You take..."

He gasped and Nick grabbed the weak hand. He felt somehow that this wasn't real. His father couldn't die, now, like this. It just wasn't possible. He raised his anguished eyes heavenward as if to appeal.

"Nick, Nick...so lucky...good life...fine family...so much...so thankful."

He cried out again and Nick felt the grasp weaken. His father's life force was ebbing away in his arms. He saw the dying man struggling to talk. The darkness of the blood was stark against the pale skin. His blue eye's found his sons. Tom rested his bloody hand on his son's wet cheek.

"So proud of you son...strong...smart...fearless...so luck I had you...in your hands now boy...take care of your mother...love you son."

"I will sir. I...I...I love you too, Father." Nick choked.

"...know that boy...you say it everyday..." Tom grew frantic and Nick leaned closer.

"What is it? What can I do?" He anguished

"Find him son...bring him home...he belongs here with you...together, you and Heath...promise me." The expiring eyes pleaded.

Nick's gaze assured Tom before the words found his ears.

"I'll find him sir. I'll bring him home. We'll be the best team in the west."

Tom smiled and Nick felt him shudder.

"So cold son...so dark...can't see you."

"I've got you Father. I'm here." Nick lifted his father and held him close. "Victoria...Victoria..." His hand reached out and he was gone.

Heath woke up and looked around. He didn't recognize the landscape. It was so pleasant; he was instantly calmed. The lush meadow was full of vibrant wildflowers in every color. This glorious carpet was accented by a crystal blue stream, gurgling by. The trees were full of fruit and birds of every variety. He heard his name and turned. He stood and broke into a huge grin.

"Father, what are you doing here? Where are we?"

Tom embraced the boy hard and they started walking towards the road ahead.

"We're far away from home, son. I can't stay long."

"Where are you going?"

Tom had his arm around his youngest son's shoulders. He squeezed tight and took in the boy's handsome features. He was so glad he found this boy and got to know him. What a special gift he was - a gift from God.

"My time has come, son. I have to leave you. I want you to know how very proud I am to be the father of such a courageous young man named Heath Barkley. I know now what your mission is. You're mother was right when she said you were sent by God. You have to find the road home, Boy. You're needed there."

Heath's confused look matched his hesitant voice.

"What mission? I don't understand. Why can't you come too?"

"My time here is done. Your brother needs you Heath, as much as you need him. It was meant to be this way."

They stopped at a fork in the road. One path led upwards into a swirling mist, the other led downhill through the clouds. Tom pointed to the downward path.

"Go on son, I was granted these few minutes to guide you. It's time for you to go."

Heath suddenly realized where his father was going. He shook his head in disbelief. He hugged the older man and held on fast.

"Please stay. Come back with me, Father. I'm so sorry; It's my fault. I should have stayed. Please..."

Tom's heart was full and his eye's shimmered. He ran his hand through the blond hair and kissed his son's cheek.

"You have nothing to be sorry for son. Your path was chosen for you. If you hadn't gone to Denver, your cousin would be dead. You have a long, full life ahead of you; full of wonderful things. You'll find the way home when it's the right time."

"There is so much I want to tell you. You can't leave yet." Heath pleaded.

With one final embrace, Tom broke away and walked up the hill slowly. Heath heard his father's final words as Tom disappeared into the mist.

"I'll be with you always son. I'll always find your voice. You listen for me, boy. I'll guide you. I love you son."

The others ran to the bedside and saw the still form. Kate grabbed John's hand and shook her head.

"My God John, his lips are turning blue; he's dying."

"Not if I can help it." Blackjack growled and took the unconscious boy's head into his hands.

"LISTEN TO ME HEATH. BREATHE! DAMN YOU. BREATHE! I WON'T LOSE YOU. DON'T YOU GIVE UP. COME ON SON, BREATHE!"

Blackjack pleaded with him. Heath was as pale as the sheets that were under him. Blackjack clutched the boy to his chest. Heath's head lolled against his shoulder. The old man held the head, running his fingers through the damp hair. He spoke directly into the boy's ear.

"Come on son. Don't leave us. Your family needs you here. You gotta get well and go home, boy. Nick needs you with him. I need you." He choked and felt the cool cheek.

Heath shuddered and gave a long gasp and then stiffened in Blackjack's arms.

"Thank God." The old man said and gently laid him back against the pillows.

Those gathered in the room stared in stunned silence. Each memorized the amazing event. They all heard the one way conversation the boy had with his father. Heath's head turned and twisted against the pillow. He reached out frantically.

"NO! NO! Please don't leave me father. Don't go. I love you too. Come back."

He gasped loudly as the blue eye's shot open. He was panting hard and his confused stare circled the room until his saw his grandfather. The old man lifted him forward.

"You're okay now, son. You sure scared us good."

When Blackjack looked at his grandson's dispirited face, he felt a chill race up his spine. The boy's eyes were empty and lost.

"What is it Heath? What's wrong son?"

Heath's melancholic features faced his grandfather. He spoke slowly and painfully; looking into the eye's so like his own.

"I'm never going to see my father again."

He then collapsed on Blackjack's shoulder. The old man hugged the still form and rocked him. Blackjack got a bad feeling and laid his unconscious grandson back on the pillows. He pulled the quilt up and walked slowly from the room.

"John, you don't think something's happened to Tom, do you?" Kate worried.

Scott looked at the clock on the chest of drawers. It was just after five o'clock. John saw the time as well. He reassured his wife as she went to sit by Heath.

"The telegraph office is closes at five on Sunday. I'll wire Jarrod first thing in the morning."

The doctor moved from Heath's side and put his stethoscope away. He shook his head and looked at the pale boy as he spoke.

"His breathing is steady. If I didn't witness it myself, I never would have believed it. Blackjack and forces known only to that boy willed the life back in him. He was gone. I guess that proves the old adage "miracles happen." Kate, just change his bandages daily. Make sure he gets lots of rest and fluids. As he gets stronger, increase his food intake. He needs to build himself up. I'll leave a painkiller for the headaches, it's strong and will help him sleep. He's confined to the bed as least until the end of the week; he'll be having blackouts. I'll be back in a few days."

Scott followed the doctor out the door and watched as he left. Meg was in the hall and heard what happened. Without a word, he held her close. He reached down to pick up the grinning toddler who greeted him. He kissed the chubby cheek and carried his golden hair boy downstairs.

"Mother, Nick, Anybody home?"

Jarrod called out in the foyer. It was a few minutes later when his mother appeared in the parlor doorway.

"Hello son. How was the meeting? Did he sign?"

"No, Father and I tried everything. Didn't he tell you?"

"He's not here Jarrod. Didn't you two come home together?"

"No, he left quite a while before I did."

He regretted his choice of words before he saw Victoria's face grow pale. He embraced her and used a confident tone.

"Now I'm sure he's fine. He could be just about anywhere. You know how lost he gets when he runs into the hands. I'll get Nick and check for him."

"Nick's not here. He's been gone all afternoon.'

"I'll get some hands from the bunkhouse. don't worry." He kissed the top of the silver head and departed.

He left his guard down as soon as he reached the outdoors. His father should have been home well over an hour ago. He departed early to take his mother for a ride. Jarrod got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as he approached the bunkhouse. He got a dozen hands to pair off and start searching. He and Andy were gone only about 15 minutes when they saw Charger and Coco ahead. His relief was short lived. They pulled up as the violent scene came into view. Andy's shocked voice broke the deafening silence.

"My God Jarrod, it's your father. I'm so sorry. I...I can't believe it. I'll go for a wagon and send for the sheriff."

Jarrod didn't feel Andy's hand on his sleeve. He never moved or uttered a sound. The blue eyes that were often so vivid and brilliant were now clouded with unimaginable pain. He finally found himself sliding off of Jingo and allowing his unsteady gait to drop next to the gory scene. He fell to his knees and closed his father's sightless eyes. Nick seemed to be in shock. He was pale and shivering. Jarrod tried to remove the grip Nick had on their lifeless sire.

"No, I'm taking care of him, I promised." Nick argued

Jarrod sat next to his tortured brother and wrapped his arms around him. They stayed like that for several minutes, each drawing on the other's strength. Nick finally spoke.

"They murdered him, Jarrod. There's nowhere for them to hide. I'll see to it that they pay."

"Did he say anything?"

"McClain and a hitman from the railroad."

Nick said as he shifted, so each brother held part of the martyr. Jarrod stroked his father's cheek and wiped the moisture from his eyes.

"He asked for everyone" Nick continued "Said how proud he was of us; how lucky."

Nick swallowed hard and went on.

"I'm bringing him home, Jarrod. I gave father my word; that I would find Heath."

That was how Andy and Red found them. Red dropped to his knees and hugged his cold friend.

"Oh God Tom, What did they do to you?" He grieved and rocked. Tom's lifeless hand jerked with the sudden movement of the pained mourner.

The brother's gave the tearing man a few moments and then helped him to his feet. Red seemed unaware as they helped him into the wagon. He sat next to Nick and cradled his best friend's head.

"I'll look out for the boys Tom. I watch over them. You rest easy."

Jarrod and Nick entered the house quietly and went into the parlor. Victoria and Audra rose at the sound of the door.

"Nick, what happened? You're covered in blood." Audra cried out.

Victoria knew as soon as she saw their grave expressions. She stood for a moment and then the sobbing started. Jarrod caught her as she fell. He sat on the setee with her as she sobbed his father's name over and over, pounding on Jarrod's chest.

"What is it? What's wrong Nick?" Audra asked

Nick took her slim shoulders and quietly spoke.

"Father's been killed."

"Heath if you don't start eating, you'll never leave this bed." Kate pleaded.

"I'm sorry. I'm just not hungry."

Kate watched the forlorn look as he pushed his tray away. Nobody could talk sense to him. He drank some juice with his medicine and closed his eyes. She removed the untouched tray to the table nearby. She returned and pulled his quilt up. She kissed his forehead and combed her fingers through his hair, shaking her head.

She was in the kitchen when she heard the front door close. She walked through the large room to greet her husband and stopped in her tracks when she saw his face. His eyes were red-rimmed and he sat down hard on the pine table. She wrapped her arms around him and read the wire that his trembling hands offered.

Blackjack walked down the stairs and approached cautiously.

"It's bad, isn't it son."

John took a deep breath and stood up. He walked over to his father.

"I'm sorry Pa, he's gone. Jarrod's wire was waiting when I got to the telegraph office. He was murdered yesterday. Some assassin from the railroad shot him. I'm leaving as soon as I get packed."

He broke from the old man's embrace and steadied the shaking legs. He got his father settled into a chair.

"Don't you mean, "we're leaving"?" Kate questioned.

"No, I'm going alone. Cat needs you here. Meg can't care for two sick people, she's got a baby due in less than three months."

"I'm going" Blackjack said

John sat on the edge of the large pine table and faced his father. Kate handed the old man a brandy.

"You can't Pa. It's only been 6 weeks since the heart attack. You heard what the doctor said about traveling for awhile. Besides, your hip isn't fully healed. It's too much for you. Most important is that boy upstairs. He's gonna need you; he's frail right now."

Blackjack cursed, scowled and cursed again. He knew John was right. His eyes filled up, but he wouldn't allow the tears to fall now. He would mourn later. He looked up to the room above him. He finished the brandy that his daughter-in-law gave him.

"Is he up?"

Kate nodded and her worried face told him before her words did.

"He's won't eat anything. He's very depressed. He knows about Tom, I think he's known since...well since he came back."

Blackjack stood and slowly took the stairs. Kate and John followed him. They entered the room and Heath's stoic stare met them. Kate sat on the bed and took his hand; John took the other hand. Heath's eyes never left Blackjack's at the foot of the bed.

"Heath, it's about your father." John started.

"He's dead. I've known since yesterday afternoon. He ...He told me. IF it's okay, I'd like to be alone now." He finished quietly.

Kate kissed his forehead and John spoke his sorrow from his heart. Heath nodded gratefully. Blackjack remained briefly.

"I'll be back, we're gonna talk." was all he said.

Heath embraced the solitude of the room. He stared out the window at the snow-capped mountains in the distance. He thought of the devastated family far on the other side. Mrs. Barkley would be grief-ridden, but when alone. Her strength would be the saving grace of the family. Audra would be racked with tears. Jarrod would be comforting all of them, his eyes full of hurt. Then there was Nick.What about Nick? Heath's chest hurt when he thought of his lost brother so far away. He raised an eyebrow as the thought left his mind. Nick was his brother and so very far away. He knew exactly where Nick was; shutting them all out, harboring his pain alone.

Heath closed his eyes as the pain descended. He was glad when the blackness finally came.

John was packed and ready for Scott to take him to catch the train in Denver. He talked with his father and embraced the old man as he left.

Blackjack watched until he couldn't see the wagon anymore. His sobs were deep and painful. His fine boy, a man who had taken a glimmer of hope and turned it into a 10,000-acre dynasty had been torn from him. How proud he was of his sons. He was glad for the last visit they had just over a month ago. It had been a great two weeks, what great talks they shared. God had given them that last moment. He felt a tug on his pant leg and looked down to see a small, dark head. He sat down and the child climbed on his lap. He put a small hand on the old man's cheek and felt the tears.

"Why are you crying, Poppy?"

"I'm very sad Sean. Do you remember when Uncle Tom and Aunt Victoria visited last month?"

"Him was nice. Him give me candy and tell stories. Her smelled good and tickled me." The boy smiled.

"Yes, he was nice. He's in heaven now. I'm sad because I won't be able to see him anymore."

The small boy thought for a moment. His dark eyes looked up at the sad blue ones. Patting Blackjack's shoulder, he slid off the lap. He ran across the room and picked up a beatup, worn out, one-earred cloth rabbit. He found his place on the old man's lap again and handed the faded bunny to the grieving man. Blackjack smiled and swallowed the lump in his throat. He hugged the boy close and rubbed the dark hair. They all knew how attached Sean was to Buster, his favorite bedtime buddy.

"You wanna hold Buster? Him will make you feel better." Sean offered solemnly.

He knelt up and wrapped his small arms around Blackjack's neck, hugging him tight. Blackjack didn't suppress the sob when he heard the small voice.

"I love you Poppy. Don't be sad."

The funeral was the largest the valley had ever seen. Scores of mourners visited the great man as he lay in state. Victoria held up well, the very picture of grace. After the last of the close friends departed, Doctor Merar gave her a sedative. Audra stayed by her side as she fell into a fitful sleep.

Jarrod was exhausted and worried about Nick. It wasn't the dark circles his brother wore that worried that lawyer; rather it was the void. Nick was empty. He had simply disappeared. not feeling anything; not anger or sadness. He hardly spoke and then in an empty, hollow voice.

Jarrod wandered into the library when his uncle and Red were sitting. They were talking about oldtimes. His uncle had boosted the old man's spirits considerably.

"Brandy?" He inquired of the pair

"I'll have one, Jarrod" His uncle replied.

"None for me, Boy" Red added

Jarrod's mouth turned up slightly at the Red use of the word `boy'. It was a small sign he was mending. He handed a glass to his uncle and sat down. He swirled the amber fluid in the glass and rested his weary head against the silky cushion. He felt the reassuring rub on his shoulder and accepted the heartfelt words

"Your father would be so proud. You sure stand tall son."

"Thanks Uncle John."

"I didn't want to upset your mother, but did they catch the men who murdered him?" His uncle asked.

Jarrod sat up and seemed to repeat the familiar sentences from memory.

"Yes, there were two of them. One a professional and the other an inside informant named McClain. The hit man killed McClain once he wore out his usefulness. He didn't get far. We had a bounty on him; hundreds of men combed the hills looking for him. A gunman named Handy Random caught up with him and killed him."

"I wanted that honor" Nick growled

All three watched him down a shot of whiskey and pour another. He finally took the bottle and paced restlessly. Jarrod walked over and grabbed the panther.

"Nick, I was worried. Where have you been?"

"Out." His brother snapped.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. You look beat Jarrod, go on to bed."

Jarrod watched as Nick belted back whiskey like it was water. He took the bottle and replaced it on the bar. Nick didn't fight him, he slinked into a nearby chair.

"I think I'll do just that. Goodnight all."

Jarrod left and Red walked over and stood by Nick's shoulder. He knew the boy was hurting badly. He idolized his father and couldn't accept the finality of the situation. In time he would heal, but at what cost? He motioned for John and tapped Nick's arm.

"Come on boy, walk with me back to the bunkhouse."

Nick rose without a word and walked ahead of the two older men. He stopped at the porch of the bunkhouse. Red and John flanked the hurting cowboy. Red put his arm around Nick's shoulders.

"Old Red knows how bad you're hurtin' son. Healin' is gonna take some time. You gotta remember, you ain't the only one busted up about this. We're all in a bad way, but most of all, your mother's hurting somthing fierce. She can't worry over you and get well. Try to pick yourself up around her."

"It's hard Red, I've tried. I hate what this had done to her. It's just so hard to believe."

John saw and heard the same pain in his nephew that his father had. Nick didn't look like the old man, but he was more like Blackjack than anyone. His personality, disposition, love of family, fierce protectiveness and so much more made him Blackjack's grandson, out and out. Even his bark was the same.

"It will get better Nick. It's only been a week. You're pushing yourself too hard. It's called a grieving process for a reason. You've got family to lean on, don't hold the pain inside. You'll only hurt yourself and those who care for you. You're as stubborn as Blackjack"

They saw Nick's mouth upturn at the mention of the old man's name. When Nick was a boy, Blackjack seemed larger than life; he was Nick's hero. He wished the old man were here now. Red's voice broke the silence.

"The first night we slept here as Barkley land, your father made a promise. He looked out and ran his hand at the landscape as far as the eye could see. He told me that one day, all of that would belong to his sons and theirs after them. Nick, nobody will replace him. Them scoundrels took his body from us, but his spirit is alive and strong. It's in you boy and your brothers and sister. You got his fire Nick. It's in your gut; I saw it from the time you were small. He saw it too Nick. He planted the roots, son, it's up to you to continue that dream and keep it alive."

Nick sighed heavily and thought on Red's words. He digested them slowly and felt some of the edge leave him. He stood still for a long time. Finally, he turned and shook the old man's hand.

"Thanks Red."

Red heard the words spoken as well as the one's Nick hadn't said. He patted the vested back and watched as the sorrowful son went home.

The night John left for Stockton, Blackjack watched his daughter-in-law leave Heath's room. HE knew from her expression, the boy was still refusing food.

"I left it up there, Pa, maybe you can talk sense to him"

The door banged open as he entered. He walked over to the bed and addressed its sorry occupant. He nudged the possum with his cane.

"Open them eyes. I know you ain't sleepin'. We got some talkin' to do."

Heath looked past the old man into the hall.

"So talk" was his reply.

"Sit up" Blackjack ordered as he put the tray in front of his grandson.

"You eat while I talk. Don't be tellin' me you ain't hungry. A bird couldn't live on what you've been eatin'. I won't tolerate this self-pity. Time for you to pull up your boots and fight."

Heath knew he was fighting a losing battle. He reluctantly stabbed a helpless piece of ham and Blackjack watched as the platter slowly disappeared.

"Look son, whatever happened last night between you and your father was something special. He didn't produce any quitters, especially you. You have had to fight harder than most in this life. I know you're upset. Hell, you've put in a rough few months. But it will get better, Heath. You rest here awhile, heal your body, inside and out. One day, when the time it right, you'll find the way home. I miss him too, Boy."

He saw the boy's expressive blue eyes. They were like mirrors reflecting images of pain, guilt, confusion and sorrow. Then something else: hope, following by a gentle smile.

"I'm so sorry Blackjack. I didn't stop to think how very much you were hurting. Guess we can lean on each other for a while, okay."

"Sounds like a plan" Blackjack said as he took the tray across the room.

He returned and watched as his blond grandson drained his medicine. He listened to the heartfelt words the boy spoke about his father. Blackjack too, shared his grief with the boy. He stayed and talked until he saw the pained look ease up and the blue eyes close, the face relaxed in sleep. He walked to the window and addressed the dark sky.

"He's safe here, Tom. I'll take good care of him until he's read to go home. You sleep in peace son, I'll keep him close."

He pulled the quilt up and took a last look at Tom's fine son before leaving to go to bed. He didn't hear the sleep reply.

"It's okay father, I'll be fine now. I'll look out for him. It'll be easy, he's just like Nick"

Heath spent the first half of the week regaining his strength. His healthy appetite not only made Kate happy, but the increased stamina improved Heath's spirits. By the end of the week, when the doctor came to check on him, he was pleasantly surprised to find Heath dressed and downstairs. With Scott's help, he had been gradually increasing his short jaunts in the hall. He now spent the morning downstairs and returned upstairs to rest in the afternoon. His color was good and although the headaches persisted, the blackouts had all but disappeared.

Saturday was a clear, sunny day and Scott decided to take Heath on a short tour of the ranch. The exceptional enterprise impressed the blond Barkley. After touring the outbuildings, pastures and corrals, Scott pulled up to the bunkhouse. He took Heath in for a surprise visit with the hands. They were finishing lunch and the bandaged man got a great cheer. Cat was a favorite of all the hands and they wanted Heath to know how much his efforts meant. Max was one of the first to greet the startled cowboy.

"It's good to see you up and around. Sure was a close call."

"Thanks." Heath nodded

After a hearty lunch and dose of good cheer, the hands left for their afternoon duties. As Scott read through a list of supplies that Max left, Heath took a moment to extend his gratitude. Scott looked up from the list and a puzzled look crossed his face at Heath's extended hand.

"It's a little overdue, but seemed like a good time to say thanks. I can't remember much about last weekend, but I know you and Blackjack never left me. Means a lot, thanks Scott."

Scott returned the firm grip and smiled at his new friend.

"You're family Heath. I learned a long time ago from this fine family just how much that word means."

As they climbed back into the wagon, Scott pointed out the house he shared with Meg and his sons. It was a large two-story home with a wrap around porch.

"Fine looking house" Heath complimented

"Thanks, as long as Meg and the boys were with me, I could live anywhere." Scott smiled.

"She's sure is a beauty" Heath recalled.

"She's the sun, moon and stars, Heath" Scott lauded.

The main house was a half-mile away. As they drew closer, Scott spoke again.

"John and Kate, now you couldn't ask for better folks. My Pa died when I was a kid and my Ma remarried. He was a no good..." Scott paused "well, let's just say we didn't get along. Anyhow, I came here about 10 years ago, when I was 15. Kate and John were wonderful. I couldn't love them more if they were my folks. John's probably the most patient man I've ever met. His guiding hands taught me well."

Scott helped Heath down from the wagon and guided the tired man in the house. Heath sat in the overstuffed sofa, while Scott stoked the fire. He turned as Heath spotted a leather bound journal on the table.

"It's Blackjack's. He started writing down some of his adventures a few years ago. You wouldn't believe some of the stories he has in there."

Heath opened the book and flipped through the many pages written in neat, concise format. Scott returned to face the fire and Heath looked up as he heard the admiration in his voice. As Scott spoke, he couldn't see Blackjack enter the room, but Heath did. He smiled at the fond eyes the old man cast to Scott's back.

"I owe everything to him, Heath. That old man saved my life. He took a wild, willful, broken boy and made a man out of him. You ask me, there's not a finer man wearing boots than Blackjack Barkley. I'd do anything for him, absolutely anything."

"Then how about movin' your behind out there and getting them horses broke in. We ain't running a hen party."

A smile split Scott's handsome face as he mimicked the end of the command.

"This is a working ranch, you don't get paid to stand around" Both voices said.

Heath laughed as Blackjack swatted at the dark-haired man in jest.

"I can still take you boy, you remember that."

"Yes sir" Scott bowed as he bid farewell.

Blackjack grabbed the buckskinned shoulder.

"You know I only work with champions boy; only the best."

"Yes sir, me too." Scott beamed.

Blackjack poured a shot of whiskey in his coffee and sat down next to his grandson. He patted the boy's knee.

"Looks like you got your legs back. How's the rest of you farin'?"

"Fine."

"Scott give you the grand tour?"

"Yeah, sure is a mighty fine spread. He's a good man."

"He sure is Heath, you don't the half of it. I met Scott's grandfather my first spring here. He lived with his wife, a full-blooded Cherokee, in those mountains. They had one child, Matt, Scott's father. We were good friends, spent a lot of time hunting and trailblazin', even ran with Kit Carson for a spell. Matt loved horses and when he got big enough, he got a job working on a ranch near here. He married Scott's ma and got a little spread of his own. I used to visit a lot when Scott and his sister were small. Then Matt died when Scott was about 12. His ma had 2 young uns' to raise and no income. So I wasn't real surprised when she remarried. I never liked her second husband, and it became hard to visit."

He stopped to sip on the spirited hot brew. Heath saw the change in his demeanor and leaned in to hear better.

"Wasn't long after they married that Scott's ma died. I didn't know about that and to this day it bothers me some. Until Scott came here to live, I had no idea. Crawford, that's his stepfather, took to drinking. The neighbors told me Scott did all the work and that louse spent the little bit of money he did earn on booze. Scott found a letter his ma wrote to an aunt in St Louis. She agreed to take Scott's sister, Sara. He hid the letter and from that day on, worked every odd job on neighboring spreads to earn her the train fare. Once she was safely on her way, Scott took off. He was 15 by then and was good with horses and a hard worker. He got a job working on a spread north of Denver. Well, Crawford found out. He got drunk one night and tracked Scott down."

Blackjack fisted his hands and clenched his jaw. His eyes grew hard, even after all these years it still angered him.

"He beat the hell out of that boy. Scott managed to grab his gun and shot him. He thought he killed him. He was a scared 15-year-old kid and he fled. There were still folks in these parts who were prejudiced against him because of his grandma. How he got here I can't tell you, he don't remember too much about that night, just as well. Me and John found him just up the road. He was almost dead. For three days I sat by that boy's bed and listened to him in his delirium, repeat every filthy word that animal said about him. The doctor found traces of old breaks as well as scars on his backside where he was whipped."

Blackjack watched as Heath leaned forward and placed his aching head in his hands. He had seen the scars on Heath's back. He leave it up to the boy to talk on it. He rubbed a hand across the blanketed brands.

"You okay, son?"

Heath nodded but remained forward. Blackjack heard him exhale slowly. He continued.

"He was as angry and wild as anyone I'd ever seen. Wouldn't talk to anyone, sulked, raged, and busted up anything he could get his hands on. Kate was the first one to get through the barrier. She just about loved him to death. He threw himself into work, leaving before sunup and getting home after sundown. John would find him lots of times asleep out there, too tired and stubborn to come home. Meg was the one who opened that heart of his. He confided in her, she became his best friend. I took a real shine to that boy. Took him with me everywhere. He finally learned to trust again. It took a while, but it was worth it. He grew into a fine young man, one who married my granddaughter five years ago. That boy means a whole lot to me."

"What happened to his ...Crawford?"

"Couple months after the incident, he killed a man in a fight. He's in prison."

For several minutes, Heath remained silent, still hunched forward. The only sound in the room was the crackling of the fireplace. He spoke so softly; Blackjack almost didn't hear him.

"You didn't ask...about my back."

"No son, I didn't."

Heath leaned back and put a hand over his throbbing eyes. He felt the nudge and took the glass with his medicine in it. He didn't even mind the bitter taste. He stretched out on the couch and felt the blanket and the rub to the shoulder as Blackjack left the room.

She entered the room gracefully and took everyone by surprise. For the most part over the last eight days, she had remained in her room, mourning in private. But on this clear October Monday morning, Victoria Barkley resumed her place at the head of the Breakfast table. She glanced longingly at the empty place at the other end. As her gray eyes roamed the table she saw them as children again, eyes' shining, clamoring for their father's attention. She looked up to see Jarrod standing by her side. He didn't say a word, his reverent eyes said so much more. She smiled and squeezed his hand. As he returned to his seat, she spoke.

"This last week has been the longest and most difficult one of our lives. Tom Barkley was a lot of things to a lot of people. But what he was most was a warm, wonderful man who's family meant everything to him. We can never replace him, but in his spirit, we can carry on. He would never tolerate long faces or a house of pity. Time heals all wounds and it's time for this family to go about the business of living again."

She reached a small hand over and John took it. Her gray eyes were warm with affection for this quiet man whom her husband was so close to. She knew John was deeply hurt and saw in those reflective blue eyes, just how much.

"John, I'm so sorry we haven't had a chance to talk since you arrived on Saturday. Is Kate all right? You never mentioned why she wasn't able to come with you."

Before he could reply, she read those very readable eyes and saw Jarrod and Nick exchange a knowing look.

"What is it you're not telling me? Is Kate ill?" She reasoned

"No Victoria, Kate is fine. Last Saturday the James Gang robbed a bank in Denver. They grabbed Cat on their way out and took her hostage."

"Oh John, is she all right" Victoria's small hand was at her throat.

"She's lucky. Lucky that a brave young man named Heath Barkley was next door and took chase. He saved Cat's life. There was a shoot out, they had her dead to right and he shoved her out of the way, took a bullet for her. She suffered a shoulder wound, but had it not been for Heath, she'd be dead most likely. He somehow managed to get the two of them home."

"Heath? What on earth was he doing in Denver? How bad was he hurt?" Victoria's alarmed voice matched the anxious eyes.

"I don't why he was there, he's been to ill to talk. He had a bad crease to the head and was suffering from a high fever. I'm expecting an update today in a wire from home."

"John, does he know about Tom yet?" She asked

The family watched as John swallowed hard and stared at his plate. After several minutes he looked up at each of them, resting on Jarrod before he continued.

"He knew before we did. When I sent the wire last Monday, I told you only about Heath's injury. What you don't know is what happened on Sunday afternoon."

He paused to take a long drink of coffee before sharing the extraordinary event.

"He was burning up with fever all through Saturday night and into Sunday morning. Scott had the presence of mind to get him in the tub on Sunday morning to break the fever. By midday he started to fade, his breathing was shallow and his pallor was pale. The doctor stayed all day but offered little hope. It was close to five, when we heard my father scream. When we got to the room, Heath was gone."

"Gone? You mean dead?" Nick said slowly.

"That's exactly what I mean. The doctor found no pulse, no breath, nothing. My father cradled the limp body, screamed at him, ordering him to live. Finally he took a long shuddering breath and well...we all heard one side of the conversation he had with Tom. He was heartsick, begging Tom not to leave him. When he came around, he looked right in my father's eyes and in the saddest voice I've ever heard, he said, "I'm never going to see my father again." It was just after five o'clock last Sunday."

Victoria eyes were shimmering and she didn't stop the tears that ran freely. She rose and hugged John briefly. He looked over her silver head at the shocked faces in the room. Nick's stunned voice was the first heard.

"I was with him when he died, it was around 5 o'clock."

"Thank you John. That he was able to find Heath, and guide him back to us, means a lot to me. Tom worried so about Heath. Knowing that they were able to say goodbye and that Tom saw him..." Victoria didn't finish.

She shook her head and walked through the kitchen door, headed for the garden. Audra rose to go with her, but Jarrod stopped her.

"I think she needs a few minutes, honey. Wait a little while."

"You're right. I'll get her wrap from her bedroom and take it to her." Audra left the three men.

"I'll be leaving for town in a little while, Uncle John if you want to ride in with me. The telegraph office will be open and I'd sure like to find a wire there. I'm worried about Heath." Jarrod's blue eyes' concerned.

Jarrod stood and mentally made a list of the vast amount of paperwork facing him. His father had made clear outlines on how his estate was to be divided. He noticed Nick's plate was untouched again. Nick's usual voracious appetite had been missing for a week. Combined with the lack of sleep his handsome brother wore a pale, haggard look that didn't suit him.

"Uncle John, when you leave this week, I'd like to go back with you." Nick finally found his voice.

John walked around the large table and stood next to his pained nephew. He knew how bad Nick missed Tom, and the open wound inside was eating at him. He placed his strong hands on the back of Nick's shoulders and spoke.

"Nick, I know how much you miss Heath. But he's got a lot of healing to do inside and out. From what your father's letter said and what I've heard from Jarrod and Red, he's a little lost right now. He needs to find his way home on his own, his choice. I know you're worried and you want him to know how you feel. But I also know you'll end up telling him to come home. I don't think he's ready for that confrontation yet."

Nick didn't reply but John felt the tension in his back increase. He knew some physical need would surface. He'd seen it so many times in his father. Sure enough Nick stood and paced, smacking one hand in the palm of the other.

"You were the one name he sought in his delirium Nick. It was obvious to all of us how much you mean to that boy. Give him this time Nick, he needs it and so do you. You got a lot of pain inside to conquer. You're whole life has changed. You need time to heal."

John followed Nick out into the foyer and caught up to him at the front door. Nick felt his Uncle's hand on his shoulder and also felt every word he spoke. He was hurting inside...an awful burning sensation that wouldn't go away. The ranch was behind on a half a dozen fronts. There were two contracts in Modesto that were a week overdue, a herd late to be moved and so much more.

"It's just that I need him...need to see him. I got some things I gotta say" Nick versed to the door.

"You say what you need to in a letter. The rest can wait until you see him. You each need some time to heal. Both of you will be better for the wait. You'll know when the time is right."

Jarrod and his uncle watched Nick study the woodgrain in the door and then he stepped out into a new role.

"See you at dinner." he said eyeing his ranch.

"What time is it?"

"Almost 7, I brought you some stew." Kate eased the tray down on his lap.

As she turned up the lamp, his head turned at the two photos on his nightstand. One was of his father and Blackjack taken a few years ago. The other was of Leah beaming as she held her year old blond boy. He took the picture of her and touched it in awe. Kate knew those eyes and saw the love they held. She rubbed his shoulder.

"She must have loved you very much. It shines through those pretty eyes of yours."

"I miss her voice, silly huh?" He said quietly, tracing her face in the photo.

"Oh honey, that's not silly at all. It's very touching. I missed my mother's voice too after she died. Then one day I heard Meg laugh, and it was if she was with me once more. One day you have a child Heath, one as special as you were to her. And in that child, Leah will live on."

Kate kissed his cheek as she stood.

"You finish your medicine when you're done eating. I'll be back later."

She paused at the door and thought what a truly remarkable job Leah Thomson had done, raising this boy into such a wonderful combination of tenderness and valor. Someday, she mused as she ascended the stairs; some lucky girl was going to get the genuine article, complete with a shining armor.

"You want a piece?" He offered the last leg

"No thanks, big brother, you earned it. " Nick offered with a slight smile.

Jarrod took that as a small sign that the Old Nick was trying to return.

"Something on your mind Nick?"

Nick finally moved from the post and turned a chair backwards, straddling his lean legs over the sides. He rested his chin on the top of the chair.

"I been thinking. Maybe you ought to go back with Uncle John. Heath may not be ready to come home yet, but somebody ought to be there for him, so he knows that...well you know."

"That we are care about him, miss him and support him?" Jarrod offered with a milk toast

"Yeah, something like that. You lawyers always get the words right."

Jarrod placed the dirty dishes in the sink and pulled his frowning brother up by the arm.

"Come on Brother Nick, I'm buying you a brandy in the library."

"What?" Nick's face didn't understand the deep appreciation in Jarrod's blue eyes that matched his voice.

Jarrod clapped Nick on the back and complemented

"I may have got the words right, brother, but they came straight from your heart. And that is something I'd like to celebrate."

Heath stretched and allowed himself the guttural growl that follows such a release. He sat up groggily and let the quilt fall to his waist.

"My, my what a view" a female voice admired

Heath reclined slightly and pulled the quilt up covering the muscular bare chest. He raised a wary eyebrow at her.

"You sure got a fittin' name, sneaking around like a cat."

"Actually it's Catriona Grace Barkley and I'm sorry you woke up. I was enjoying myself" Cat purred.

"You always this shy?"

"Only when I'm thanking a brave hero for saving my life. The fact that he's so handsome and well not exactly dressed is only diminished by the fact we're related." she pouted

"No need for that. You thanked me last week. Now git, so I can get dressed." He ordered.

"Oh don't mind me, just pretend I'm not here" She teased, green eyes dancing.

"Boy Howdy, it's a wonder your Pa isn't all gray by now."

"You riding with Scott to pick him up today?"

"Not if you don't let me get dressed. Go on now before I get mad."

"Ohhh, would you? I love to see that color in your face, suits them blue eyes of yours."

Heath ended the standoff by heaving a pillow at her. He smiled all the way down to breakfast. She sure was a spitfire.

It was a beautifully sunny day and Heath enjoyed the majestic glory that only the Rockies can provide. Denver was bustling on this busy Monday morning. It was two weeks since the shooting and other than the small headband-like bandage and an occasional headache, Heath was feeling fine. He was anxious to get to work; all this layin' around wasn't good for him. The doctor okayed light duty this week. This afternoon after returning his uncle to the ranch, he was going with Scott to watch the new stallions being broken.

They pulled into the station, but were early for the train. Scott suggested they head to the General Store. While he looked for a couple trinkets for his boys and some candy, Heath remained by the front door. He saw three men approaching, one in his fifties, the other two in their early twenties. The older man stared at him openly.

"It's like I heard Pa, he's some kind of bastard kin, living with them at the ranch."

Heath squared his shoulders and met the older man eye to eye.

"That right boy, you John's whelp or the old mans? Course that don't surprise me none, bein' as they let a dirty, stinkin' Indian marry into the family."

Scott paid for his purchases and approached the door as Heath's blue-eyes turned to ice. He saw the blond's fist clench and the set on his jaw. He laid a restraining arm across the younger man's chest. He had no doubt Heath could clean the street with these three if he was 100%. Heath didn't need any damage to the open wound on his head.

"Get going Monroe and take them mongrel pups of yours with you, before you regret this trip."

The older of Monroe's two sons' shook his arms in a mock-fear gesture.

"OOOH, the bastard and the half-breed, I'm shakin' all over." Billy jested

"You got a big mouth for a weasel" Heath growled

Scott turned him away, towards the street.

"Yeah, go on home, run back to that harlot squaw you're married to." Luke, the younger one added

He moved so fast and with actions so precise and agile that Heath didn't see him fell the first Monroe. His tall lean form jumped and kicked the older man in the midsection, dropping him to his knees. He saw the dangerous empty look in Scott's eyes as he pummeled the author of the degrading statement. The blows continued to fall after the boy went limp. Heath knew that look and Scott needed someone to intervene.

"Scott that's enough, he's had it." He grabbed the raging man.

Scott pushed the intrusive hands away and Heath ran in front on him putting both hands on his shoulders.

"It's finished. It ain't worth getting arrested over."

He held fast until he felt the tension leave and saw Scott's eyes return to normal.

"I'm okay, thanks Heath."

As they resumed their walk to the train, Heath's peripheral vision caught a movement. His speed and accuracy left Scott speechless. In the span of mere seconds, Ike Monroe's right hand was stinging and his gun lie in the street.

"Go home old man and take your boys with you. Now." Heath warned.

"Man, where did you learn to shoot like that?" Scott admired.

They waited in the station glancing at the approaching train, coughing up steam and chugging along.

"The bastard and the half-breed, sounds like a bad dime novel" Heath said dryly.

Scott's smirk soon spread to a full grin and matched Heath lopsided one. Soon a chuckle emerged and grew into laughter. By the time John entered the station the two were convulsed. His look of confusion only made it worse. When they finally stopped and were panting for air, the dark eyes met the fair ones and each saw a kindred spirit, someone who knew the pain and understood the hurt. Scott smiled and ruffled the blond head.

"You're okay Heath," he said warmly

"Scott, give me a hand with the bags." John said

Scott turned and waved to Jarrod who was approaching Heath's back. He seemed oblivious to everyone but his brother.

"Hello brother Heath."

From across the street at a safe distance, he kept in the shadows where he wouldn't be seen. He followed the lean form as the bags were collected.

"Your time is almost up Cochise." he sneered in contempt.

Heath heard the voice and stood very slowly without turning around. The station was crowded and noisy, could be he heard wrong. His head dipped slightly and the shoulders slumped.

"Heath?"

No, there was no mistaking that voice; he'd know it anywhere. He whirled and grabbed the startled lawyer. Holding him at arm's length; he reassured himself. Heath shook his head back and forth.

Jarrod watched the incredulous look on his brother's face morph into euphoria. Heath never said a word as they embraced. Jarrod knew his brother didn't have to say anything; that look alone was worth the trip.

As they broke away, Heath stood mutely for a moment, suddenly shy. Jarrod took advantage of the moment to take stock of his brother's form. Aside from the bandana-like bandage around his head, he looked good. He placed a paternal arm around the gray wool shoulder. He watched the head rise and the somber pale eyes glance his way.

"Jarrod, I never expected to see you here."

"I never expected to see you here either. I'm delighted that you're doing so well."

"I came out here to find something, I'm not even sure myself what it is, but it's important. Guess a part of me figured until I came back, you wouldn't be..." Heath paused and Jarrod jumped in.

"What Heath? That we'd forget you? Not a chance, brother. I realize how important your quest is and I admire you for it, Heath, I really do. Whether it's 10 miles of 1000, you're a valuable part of this family and we care about you. If it wasn't for father's funeral, I'd have been here last week."

John left Scott loading the wagon and paused to watch his two nephews. Sensing that maybe they needed privacy, he approached cautiously. He waited until Heath caught his eye. The young man smiled at his uncle and extended his hand.

"Good to see you looking so fit. You made quite a bit of progress in two weeks." John said taking the hand.

"When you got good people that care about you, makes the healin' easier."

"I'm sure you two got a lot to talk about. There's a small cafe called Millie's about 2 blocks from here. Why don't you get a cup of coffee? I got business at the bank anyway. We'll meet back here in an hour."

They walked quietly to the cafe, each lost in thought. The coffee was well needed on the cold day. The waitress took in Heath's bandage and winsome smile. She returned with a large piece of pie. Heath started to protest but was cut off.

"Specialty of the house. I won't take no for an answer."

"It would appear you're not aware of the power of persuasion you have. I could make quite a lawyer out of you." Jarrod teased.

"No thanks, too many suits and too much talkin'" Heath wryly replied.

"How did you end up in Denver?"

"Got a wire from an old army friend. When I got here, I found out he passed away. The next day, the shooting happened. I don't remember too much about that or the days after."

"From what I've been told you're quite the hero, young man." Jarrod said taking a stab at the pie.

"Luck mostly." Heath shifted and toyed with the spoon.

"Uncle John said we nearly lost you. Thank God you pulled through."

"God ain't the only one who I'm beholdin'to," Heath said thoughtfully.

Jarrod saw the guarded look on his brother's face. He knew Heath well enough to know you didn't push too hard. Heath handed the pie plate to Jarrod and continued.

" I'm real sorry for your mother. I sent her a letter, I hope she don't mind. Who killed him Jarrod?"

Jarrod eyes widen in surprise. How could Heath not know?

"Heath, I'm sorry, I assumed Blackjack filled you in. What do you know?"

Heath sighed heavily and looked around the deserted room. He looked over at the trustworthiest man he knew. He struggled through most of the story and it was slow going.

Jarrod patiently listened in awe as Heath's story unfolded. He knew Heath was struggling and several times had to stop to control the strong emotions that surfaced.

"I'm glad he found you Heath and that you had a chance to say goodbye. I want you to know how very proud of you he was. "

The conversation halted briefly as the waitress filled their empty mugs. Jarrod then continued

"He was murdered, shot down by two assassins hired by the railroad. They're both dead. Nick found him and was with him when he died."

Jarrod saw the distressed look cross Heath's face at the mention of Nick's name.

"How is he Jarrod? I've been thinking about him a lot; all broken up inside and stormy outside."

"Mother's actually come through this rather well. Nick's having a rough go of it, but he'll heal in time. He holds things inside too hard. When I left, he was throwing himself into work. For him, it's good medicine. He wanted to come Heath, he's very upset about what happened between you."

"He's got no call to be upset; he hasn't done anything wrong. I feel bad running out on him. He I am stuck in the mountains with a chunk outta my head, when he needs me most."

Jarrod leaned forward and met the troubled face.

"You didn't desert him, or the ranch. You need to heal that hole inside of you, Heath. That emptiness needs to be filled, and you need to feel whole again. Then Nick will have the partner he's waiting for and needs."

"Partner?" Heath puzzled.

Jarrod stood, put his coat on and waited for Heath to rise and follow suit. He threw some money on the table and nodded to the kind waitress. As they exited, he turned to his youngest brother.

"Yes, Heath, partner. Father made all the necessary changes in his estate before he died."

Jarrod kept glancing at Heath on the short trip back to the station. The strong sun helped the chill of the day. Heath seemed to withdraw. His jaw was clenched and his silence seemed especially disquieting. Maybe he shouldn't have told Heath about the estate. Had that been too much pressure too soon? Scott's voice broke his train of thought.

"Hey, cowboy, why the long face?" Scott teased as he pulled the wagon up.

When Heath didn't answer, he jumped down and grabbed the downcast shoulder.

"You okay? What is it?"

Heath raised his head nodded to both concerned men as he climbed in the wagon.

"I'm okay. Guess it's a little too bright outside." He answered.

By the time they got home, it was obvious Heath wouldn't be going to the corral with Scott. He didn't hide the grimace as he entered the house. Whether it was the intense sun or Jarrod's revelation, his head was pounding. He found a seat near the fire and rested his eyes. He listened to the clamor of activity, as the houseguest was welcomed.

"Fancy suit, all spit and polish, boy you look like a million bucks." Blackjack lauded

"Hello Blackjack" Jarrod hugged the man. "It's good to see you."

For the next several minutes Jarrod exchanged hugs and kisses with the rest of the family. Even Sean and Matt seemed impressed. Cat left Jarrod's embrace and was about to hurl a barb at Heath, but noticed how drawn he was. She went into the kitchen and returned with two glasses. She sat down next to him and rubbed the back of his hand. He opened one eye painfully and looked over at her.

"Here, this will help" She offered the medicine quietly.

"No, that stuff knocks me out."

Jarrod sat on the large pine table by the fire and took in the pained features. He took the dark-hued glass of medicine from Cat and put it in Heath's hand.

"Go on Heath, I'm not going anywhere. We have plenty of time." Jarrod urged.

Kate had prepared a large lunch. While the noisy meal proceeded, Jarrod cast his eyes to the closed door where his brother was sleeping. Nick didn't know how right he was; this trip was necessary.

Despite the long day, Jarrod found himself unable to sleep that night. He heard the clock downstairs chime eleven times. He put his shirt on over his flannel sleeping pants and headed for the stairs. He slowed his pace halfway down, when he saw his grandfather sitting by the fire.

"You're up late. Nightcap?" Jarrod asked, holding up the brandy decanter.

"No thanks Son, you go ahead."

Jarrod settled into the comfortable chair and propped his feet up on the ottoman in front of it. He studied Blackjack's features in the firelight. The silver hair topped set off the handsome features and those revealing blue eyes. Eyes that seemed so sad tonight.

"You all right Blackjack?"

"Some nights are worse than others." The timeworn features gazed around the large room.

"Me and your grandmother put a lot of good years in this place. Raised our boys, saw them grow into fine men. Watched John's family grow up and now another generation is springing up. There's a whole lot more than mortar in these walls."

"Yes sir, I can see that. Love built this house and is the glue that holds this family together. That all started with you and that beautiful bride of yours." Jarrod smiled.

"That gives me comfort many a night, Jarrod. Seeing all you fine younguns', good, strong, honest and true. Not a bad apple in the bunch." He said with a little pride.

Jarrod watched as he crossed the room and came back with a brown leather book. He sat next to Jarrod and handed him the book.

"Been savin' this for you, boy. Some things need to said while I'm still here. The first time I saw you, you were screaming your head off. 'bout 2 months old I guess. Your Pa was just about bustin' at his seams. He had that look, the one all new fathers have. It's mighty powerful feeling. You'll know one day when your first is born. He handed you to me and said "Pa, this boy is gonna make me proud one day. And how you did, son, more than I can say." Blackjack swallowed hard and squeezed Jarrod's arm.

"Thank you Blackjack."

Jarrod felt his chest tighten and each man took a minute to recover. Jarrod read the cover of the book. In gold gilt the name "Barkley" was on the front and the Roman Numeral VII. He opened the thick oversized book to reveal blank pages.

"My great grandfather started this tradition. Writing down the family's history. Births, deaths, special events, changes in country, historical and cultural events. My grandfather and father each kept one. I have two and your father has one at home. "

He stopped suddenly and Jarrod saw how badly the weathered hand was trembling. He grasped the hand and held tight. Blackjack took a deep breath and continued.

"The last time I saw Tom, I told him "take care son" and he laughed. He said 'I'm not going anywhere Pa" It's not supposed to happen this way, Jarrod. I should have gone first." His voice broke.

Jarrod saw the tears rolling down the old man's cheeks. He put a comforting arm around the man's trembling shoulders. He rubbed Blackjack's arm and let him draw off his strength. He didn't allow words to spoil the moment. Finally he felt the back straighten up and the composed voice continued.

"You're the head of his family now, Jarrod. It's up to you to carry on the tradition. One day you see to it that all these journals get published. The older ones won't last too much longer. It's important that your children know and theirs after them. From as far back as Angus Barkley battling the British for freedom down to your father giving his life for those same strong values. You're the smartest heir we've had; a fancy college and law school. More than that you've got a good heart...better than most. I want your word boy; I need to know the legacy is safe."

"I promise, I'd consider it an honor, Blackjack." Jarrod choked

He wanted to say more, so much more. He was taken aback at just how overwhelming his emotions were at the moment. He watched as Blackjack slowly got to his feet. He stood and supported the shaky man and left him with a parting thought.

"All the sheepskins hanging on my office walls don't hold a candle to what I've learned from you. My father once said that you were the living, breathing example of the human spirit. I'd say that makes you the wisest man I know."

Blackjack turned and met the brilliant blue eyes of his eldest grandchild. Hoping that somehow Tom could be here to see him. He opened his mouth to thank Jarrod but no words would come

Jarrod saw the love in the old pale eyes as they met his. He smiled and embraced Blackjack.

"I feel the same way. Goodnight Bla...grandfather."

He heard the sob and felt the hand on the back of his head. He watched until his form couldn't be seen, but listened to the steady tap of the cane. Walking over to the cherrywood secretary, he opened the large glass door and took out a faded leather covered mass of paper tied together. Gingerly and with great reverence he opened to the first page as Angus Barkley's thick accent and the scent of the highlands and hills of Scotland greeted him.

Blackjack settled in bed and just before he closed his eyes, he thought on Jarrod's parting. The emotion and respect behind the word "grandfather". He said an extra prayer, that God look out for Tom's firstborn; to send him the strength those broad shoulders would need to carry the torch.

Jarrod waited with Blackjack while Heath went to get the rig to take his brother to the train. Along with his luggage was an expensive trunk containing the first five Barkley ledgers. Number VI would remain with Blackjack until he passed. They had decided that Jarrod would care for them. He had witnessed the developing bond between Heath and his grandfather. Blackjack's eyes seemed to follow Heath wherever he went.

"You've really made a big difference in him, Blackjack. He cares for you very much."

"He's an unexpected blessing Jarrod. When I got Tom's letter and he told me what happened, I was angry. But from the time I first laid eyes on that boy, something happened. I heard him relivin' some awful things in his fever, saw them eyes of his pleadin' with me. He got a good hold on this old man's heart. There's a whole lotta pain in that boy and I aim to see him rid of it."

"He's in good hands. I know now more than ever how important it is for him to heal out here. When he comes home, he'll be walking a lot taller, because of you Blackjack. And that's the finest legacy you can leave."

Heath watched Jarrod and Blackjack embrace as he pulled up. He saw the old man pat Jarrod's cheek and seemed unable to speak.

"You take care boy, I be out to see you as soon as that damn doctor gives the okay." Blackjack said thickly as Jarrod waved goodbye

"You take care too Blackjack."

While they waited for the train to pull up, Heath pulled a letter out from his overcoat and handed it to the lawyer. Jarrod had given him letters from Nick, Audra, Red and Mrs. Barkley. Wonderful passages full of love and support. He had answered the women's letters and given them to Jarrod earlier in the week. Red's letter hit him hard and it took awhile to answer it. Jarrod had packed that last night.

"I finally got around to reading Nick's letter this morning. Started to open it a half dozen times, but..." He paused and pulled the collar of his coat up, warding off the wind.

"You tell Nick I'm okay, for him to stop fussin'. He didn't say it, but I got the feeling he's been stompin' around, short fused with a long face."

Jarrod smiled at how well his quiet brother sized Nick up. Each needed the other to make a completion, something unified and strong. The last call was made and Jarrod tossed his bag to the porter. He turned and embraced his brother; once so lost, now on the road back.

"Jarrod, you can't know what you comin' here meant to me. I'll never forget it. I'll see you soon."

"You mean a whole lot to me too brother, I'll be watching for you."

With a final reassuring pat to the younger man's arm, Jarrod climbed on board.

Heath stood a long time watching the tracks, long after the train left. Some people go through a lifetime without having a Jarrod to care for them. He felt like the luckiest man alive. He kept that feeling with him in the weeks to come.

As the days turned into weeks, Heath was undergoing a metamorphosis. His long days working with Scott and John were filling him with an inner strength. He loved the brisk air, snowcapped mountains and especially the horses. More often than not, he ate lunch with Scott and his family at their house. Sean and Matt loved to crawl in his lap and listen to the wonderful stories he created. He also was their best "horse" and those rides usually ended in a pile of giggles. John was quiet and strong. Many times they worked side by side without saying a word, but Heath was glad he was there. Scott was a good a friend as he ever had. He surprised Heath one day when they were mending fences. As they packed their tools away, he told Heath that he wished he had a brother like him. Heath smiled and extended a hand

"Consider it done."

They went into town one morning to pick up supplies. Scott went to the gunsmith to pick up several rifles that were being repaired. Heath was on his way to the General Store when commotion at the corner got his attention. There was a corral set up and a wild stallion frantically trying to bust out. The sign promised a large fee to anyone that could break the stallion. Heath knew enough about horses to know some were meant to stay free. He started to turn when he heard a familiar voice embattled in an argument.

"I paid my fee, you get your hands off of me. I want my shot."

"You ain't steppin' one foot near that horse. Go own home."

Heath watched the stubborn slim body with a reddish braid push past the promoter and jump the fence. He cursed so loud the crowd parted before he got there. With one fluid motion he was over the fence and just in time. The angry hooves were flailing in indignancy. The horse took stock of the intruders and attempted to show his displeasure. She stood frozen as the horse approached; her green eyes widen in surprise. He grabbed her and pulled her out of the way. He held her close as the rolled under the fence, just as the hooves hit the post behind them. He didn't contain his raging anger as he grabbed Cat's slim shoulders and addressed the angry green eyes.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU WERE DOIN' IN THERE?"

"I'm as good as any of them jaspers. You had no right embarrassing me like that."

"You're a fool child. Take a good look at him. You've been around horses all your life, he ain't gonna be broke. The only thing broken would be that pretty neck of yours."

"It would not and you can't tell me what to do. I'm gonna go break that horse." Cat defied

Heath red-faced anger could no longer be contained. He sat up and grabbed the thrashing girl. He threw her across his legs and paddled her backside hard. The crowd was busy watching a desperate cowboy trying in vain to make his fortune. He pulled the screaming vixen to her feet and made her look as two men pulled the unconscious rider from the ring. His face and shirt were covered in blood. She paled visibly and fell against him, shaking.

"He's a lot bigger and stronger than you. You mean too much to me. I won't have you end up under a tarp."

Nobody noticed the handsome blond man take the sobbing girl in his arms. Her legs wobbled and her face was pale. Heath took Cat around the corner to a secluded area. He sat her down on a bench under a tree. She buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed. Finally she got control and faced her rescuer.

"Seems rescuin' me is becoming your full time job. Thanks Heath. I gotta hard time controllin' this temper. It's like I know I'm wrong, but if somebody says "you can't do that", I see nothing but fire."

Heath kissed the stray tear from her cheek. He was glad he didn't inherit the Barkley temper like Nick and Cat had.

"You're not a kid anymore Cat. You're a young lady now, and a beautiful one at that. I know you're smart, you're gonna have to learn to control that temper. It's time you started thinking about your future. You should be breaking hearts, not your hide."

"They're afraid of me." She hiccuped.

"Who's afraid of you?"

"The boys in these parts. I been to lots of dances, but I scare most of them off."

Heath laughed, picturing his sassy cousin smart mouthing some gangly green kid. He kissed the top of her hair and pulled he to her feet. As they walked toward town, he gave her some advice.

"Honey, somewhere out there is somebody special. Somebody is gonna knock you off your feet. And he better be good to you, or he'll have to answer to me. I won't have just anybody courtin' you."

She stopped and hugged him hard. Wishing he could stay forever; a big brother-hero. Every girl needs one.

"Next time I write Audra, I aim to tell her how lucky she is."