Blackjack stayed at the ranch while Scott, Heath and the men rounded up the stallions. Several days later, the corral was full and the breaking process had started. Blackjack watched Heath and Scott jousting with the men, each bragging he was a better wrangler. This ended with a wrestling match and Scott, the loser, ended up with the tab for the rounds that night in town. He watched them leave joking and laughing. It was good to hear Heath laugh.

Two nights later the three stood at the corral. The job was just about finished. There was a beautiful sunset approaching. Heath had spent every night talking with his grandfather, absorbing every word the man said. He watched the old man gazing at the colorful sky. He leaned his forearms on the fence and spoke in a hushed tone.

"They're from Caterson."

Both Scott and Blackjack looked puzzled. Heath looked at the bevy of stallions behaving and spoke again.

"The marks on my back. I was a prisoner there for 7 months after the war. It was a living hell. Beatings, deplorable living conditions, rats, physical and mental abuse. The worst was waiting, not knowing when they would come. Hearing the steps in the hall outside. Then the key turn in the lock. Sometimes they made us dig graves and stand in them. They'd blindfold us and then you'd feel a gun at the base of your neck. I fainted more than once at the sound of the gun cocking. Wake up layin' in that hole, spittin' out dirt, hearing them laugh at us."

Heath choked voice halted and he let the night swallow him. He squared his shoulders and stood straight. Blackjack, without uttering a word, put a firm hand to Heath's back. He took hold of the strong shoulder.

"No place in that war for young boys like you. What were you all of fifteen? My God, Heath... prison. I'm sorry you had to suffer like that. I heard about those places. Never imaged anyone could survive. You're made of better stuff than most, son. I'm proud to be your grandfather."

He turned and before he left for the house, he placed his hand behind Heath's head.

"Thanks for sharing that boy, I know how much it hurt. You know I'm always here, anytime, if you need to talk."

Scott watched the two Barkleys and felt tingling in his stomach. He remembered the first night they brought Heath in, seeing that awful marks and wondering. Heath had opened up in front of him. His tone indicated that it was hard for him to talk. The fact he did so with Scott present, only increased how much Scott cared for him. He thought of his own humiliation, about the same age Heath was when he was whipped. He could still feel that whip bite and hear the cruel laugh, the breath on the back of his neck. Feel that filthy hand on him.

Heath watched the elder Barkley until the door closed. When he turned back, Scott was sitting, holding his knees, and rocking. His distant look told Heath he was far away. Heath hesitated, not sure of what to do. He finally decided to sit next to him. For several minutes they sat like that, then Scott's voice broke the silence.

"He beat me, my stepfather, if you can him that. A drunken animal, for three years, broken legs, arms even a collarbone. Then he got tired of me fighting back, so he hit me hard enough to stun me. Then he pull my pants down and tie me to foot posts and the end of the bed. The whip he used had a sharp edge. It hurt like..." He stopped.

He exhaled slowly and lowered his head. He felt Heath's arm around his shoulder. He raised his head and continued

"I wouldn't cry out, and that made him madder. He'd leave me there for hours, go and drink so more. He come back drunk, get right behind me. I can still smell that stink. Then he'd start again, until I passed out. Once it wasn't fun anymore, he'd cut me loose. The only reason I stayed was for Sara, my sister. Once I got the money to send her away, I left. But he found me, and tried to kill me. I don't remember much of what happened after that."

Heath couldn't see his friend's features, but was glad he held his head up. As bad as it got, he always had his mother, Aunt Rachel and Hannah. Even in prison, he had a couple friends to lean on and his mother's face to keep him strong. Scott had nobody. No wonder Blackjack said he was a champion.

"I'm sorry Scott. I gotta tell you, I just about lasted 7 months. You've got more than guts if you could last three years. I'm glad you found your way to the ranch. This family is better because of you."

"Do you ever get flashbacks, Heath? Or nightmares?"

"Yeah, a lot at first. Not so much anymore. Only when I'm sick or sometimes in a strange place."

"I didn't have them for a long time. Then one night not long after I was married, I woke up and..."

Scott buried his face briefly before continuing.

"She was in the corner, beyond terrified. Her gown was ripped. I could kill that son of bitch with my bare hands for causing that look."

The moon broke through and illuminated the troubled young man. Heath saw the tears of rage in his eyes and how horrified he was.

"I didn't hurt her, she ripped the gown getting away from me. I don't remember what happened, it was a blackout. She said I was screaming at him and when she tried to help, I got worse. I could have hurt her or Heath, or worse..."

"But you didn't Scott. Somewhere, inside that blackness, the part of you that loved her took control."

"I ranted and raged, pacing the room like a wild animal. I was angry with myself, at him. I was confused. I yelled and sat on the floor, pounding it until by palms were raw. Then I cried and I felt her arms around me. She lifted my face; she kissed me and held me. She told me she loved me. That was the last episode. I never shared that with anyone" Scott ended in a whisper

"I'm glad you did. I never talk about it much. Felt good to tell you and Blackjack, like a weight was lifted.'

"Yeah, that's how I feel."

They sat for a moment longer and Heath finally stood and stretched. He hauled Scott to his feet. They walked to the house; the lamp outside illuminated them

"How 'bout a game of poker."

"You feelin' lucky tonight, Heath?"

"Luck has nothing to do with, brother"

Heath saw the emotive look on Scott's face. When they entered, Blackjack stood and walked over.

"High time you two got in."

"Coffee?" Heath asked

"Yeah, thanks" Scott replied as Heath walked toward the kitchen.

Blackjack saw the red rimmed eyes and the drawn features. He was going to bed but stopped first and took the boy's shoulder.

"You okay, Scott?"

Scott smiled and then laughed as he patted the old man's back. The only time Blackjack used his name in lieu of "boy" or "son" was when he was worried. It felt good.

"I'm fine now, sir" He said

Blackjack saw the look of admiration the boy gave Heath's back. Whatever talk they had outside benefited both of his grandsons. Satisfied, he went to bed. He heard them talking and laughing for a long time. It was like music to his ears as he slept.

"Well, to what to I owe this surprise in the middle of the day?"

"I thought I'd have lunch with you today."

"Well, I'm glad I made extra tea sandwiches" She smirked

"Tea sandwiches? I ain't eating that bird food. I got it under good authority that there's a plate of leftover Chicken Creole in the icebox with my name on it."

She took his arm and they went in the dining room. She was glad to hear him joke. The last week or so, he had finally begun to change. His step was lighter, he smiled more and the tension left his face. Red told her he wasn't barking at the hands as much. For the first several weeks after Tom's death, Red followed Nick around like a lost sheep. Nick complained, fussed and hollered at the old man but Red held fast. He hollered right back, defended the men to Nick and chastised him in private. Something Nick would never tolerate from Jarrod, but somewhere inside he saw Red as a father figure. Red loved him like a son and it showed.

She ate a salad and Silas brought in fresh coffee.

"More chicken Mr. Nick?"

"Silas, you read my mind" Nick grinned handing over the plate.

"It's good to have you back, son. I've been worried."

"I know Mother, I'm sorry to have caused that. It still hurts, but something changed."

Silas put the hot plate in front of the eager man and Victoria watched smiling as he wolfed down the food.

"You're healing. And not a minute too soon. I think you have Red just about worn out."

She watched as Nick poured cream in his coffee and stirred it slowly. His face was especially expressive.

"He's a tough old bird. Everytime I turned around he was right there. I couldn't shake him. I'll you mother, that old man, well he's ...really something."

She walked around the table and massaged his shoulders.

"Yes, he is. He was awfully worried about you; he cares deeply for you boys. Now you get back to work."

He kissed her forehead on the way to the door. He thought on her words and turned as he approached the door.

"I think I'll stop over and see Red on my way to the North Ridge."

"That's a fine idea, son" She smiled.

Red was fixing some shutters that came loose during a storm earlier in the week. He swore as the hammer found his thumb instead of its target.

"What this? I thought you had "hands of gold"?" Nick teased.

"Sun was in my eye. Why ain't you out branding some unfortunate calf instead of torturing this old man."

"I ...uh...wanted to say thanks and I'm sorry." Nick relieved.

Nick's comment caused the aim to stray again and Nick winced as the curse flew by his ear.

"Sorry Red"

Red dropped the hammer and walked over to where Tom's boy stood. He noticed the change about a week before. Now standing in the sun, he saw the life back in the boy's eyes. The smile he wore Red wouldn't trade for all the money in Stockton. He was lean again, healthy and not haggard. He stopped at the cowboy's side and spoke.

"Welcome back son, Old Red sure did miss you. You just about worried five years off me. Not to mention two fingers," He said shaking his sore appendages.

Nick laughed and clapped Red on the back. He held out his hand and Red took the firm grasp.

"I wouldn't have made it back, if it wasn't for you. Your boot was just the right size to kick me when I needed it. Was like my father was here."

Red swallowed hard and took the complement. Nick wasn't much for words and he read between every one of them. He still saw the young boy full of fire that Tom was so proud of. He put everything he had in these last several weeks, getting Nick back on his feet. Hearing how much it meant to him, that it felt like a father. He didn't realize he was tearing up until he heard Nick's voice again.

Nick saw Red's eyes filling up and decided this talk was overdue. It was hard for him to say how much he cared about this man. The last few weeks proved just how much Red cared.

"You okay Red?" Nick's hand found the man's shoulder.

"Damn dust in my eye. It's them spurs of yours, kicking up all kinds of stuff. You get on back to them cows, I got work to do" He grumbled as he walked away rubbing his eyes.

Nick smiled and kept that feeling the rest of the day

"I be in soon," He shouted without turning around.

She shut the door and walked back to where John stood in front of the window. They watched as Heath stood under the porch overhang gazing westward.

"I think we'll be losing our houseguest soon." John commented

"Yes, I've been sensing that for about a week now. He's been talking an awful lot about Nick and Jarrod."

For six weeks since he started coming downstairs after his injury, he started each morning at the table with her. He was an early riser and she'd find him waiting, coffee ready, when she came into the kitchen. At first, she did all the talking, occasionally getting a nod or grunt. But then he started little bits of conversation. This led to remembrances of Strawberry and his boyhood. Some were painful and she held his hand and leant support. Some were bittersweet, about his first lost love. He mentioned the war briefly and of course, he talked about Leah. But recently, it was "Nick this" and "Jarrod that" She knew then she was losing this quiet boy who she cared for like a son.

"Same here. Lately, when we're out on the range doing repairs or working with the horses, he talks a lot about Nick and the ranch. It's a sign he's healed. He found the peace he was searching for."

"I'm glad for him John, but am I going to miss him." She squeezed his arm tighter.

He wrapped her into his lean form and kissed her. They stood like that until she broke free.

"I think we'll all miss him honey, but Blackjack's going to be lost." John said

She left to start dinner and John heard his father walk down from upstairs.

"I looked over that contract from Sante Fe. Looks good to me son. You sent Dennis a wire and okay the proposition."

"Will do Pa."

Blackjack joined him and saw him looking at his blond grandson.

"That boy's boots are heading west, John."

"Yeah, Kate and I just said that. It's time Pa, he's healed and needs to go home. I know how hard it's gonna be for you."

"Yeah, I sure do care for that boy. But I hated seein' him all torn up inside. The first few weeks he was here, you could feel all that pain he held. I wanted him to lean on me; I wanted to help him. But it was important that he knew his destiny is beyond them mountains. He had to see the road, I couldn't show him. He's grown so in the last few weeks. He needs Nick, belongs by his side."

They heard the door slam and Heath walked by to warm his hands. He saw the strange look the two men gave him.

"What did I miss?" He grinned

"Not dinner, that's for sure. You sure got an uncanny way to show up when the grub is hot." Blackjack stated.

"Come on Heath, lets' eat" John said patting his back.

Scott and Heath rode the wagon into town to pick up a delivery at the train station. The station was busy that day and their wasn't room to leave the wagon. Heath jumped off to wait for the train and Scott circled around the block. Twice he passed and Heath waved him on. Finally, he shouted to Heath that he would leave the wagon by the General Store and walk back.

Scott didn't take his gun that day. Which was unusual for him. But they were late and Meg was having cramps. He was worried; the baby wasn't due for another month. Heath came and they dashed off. He heard the whistle of the train in the distance as he headed to the corner. The voice froze him in his tracks.

"You wear your hair too long Cochise"

A severe blow to the ribs interrupted his delayed reaction by a rifle butt. He fell to his knees, all the air taken away. The hot pain seared through him and as he tried to breathe, a powerful fist sent him into the alley. As he started to rise, the rifle clipped his head. His face hit the bricks and opened a deep gash at his hairline. After that things seemed to be in slow motion after that. He tasted the blood as his lip split. While he was coughing blood up, he felt the pain and snap of his arm breaking as the rifle slammed into it. He shivered in the cold air and saw his coat fly by. He felt his air cut off, as a hand to the back of his shirt hauled him to his feet. The tight collar constricted.

Heath looked down the street. Scott should have been here by now. It was only a two-minute walk. He squinted at the familiar buckskin jacket lying in the street. He picked it up and saw the blood. His feet flew like lightning and followed the blood trail. He ran up the alley in pursuit. He didn't see who the attacker was; all he saw was Scott's battered body. His scream halted the action. Scott fell into a battered heap and the man turned. Heath had the advantage of surprise and hurled himself at the man. The rifle flew to the side. The attacker slugged Heath enough to stun him momentarily. He was about to grab the rifle when a back door to a shop opened, having heard a scream. Heath shouted for the shopkeeper to get the sheriff.

He dropped to his knees and lifted Scott's head. His shaking hands found a pulse and he closed his eyes in relief. He cradled Scott and whispered in his ear, his eyes never leaving sight of the fleeing suspect. The lids fluttered briefly and Heath smiled.

"I'll get him, you rest now. Help is coming."

He covered Scott up and wiped the blood off his face. He saw the attacker about a block away, just as help arrived. He took pursuit without looking back.

Nick Barkley slept contented. The only sound was the clock on his dresser, ticking. It was a strange dream, unnaturally realistic. He was pacing in a small room. There were light green walls, white curtains and a picture of a boy and dog on the wall. He tried to read the paper but frowned at the date. Then he was riding in the twilight; his face was creased in worry. He felt the dread. He heard the cry, strong at first, then it grew weaker. Heath was calling for him...over and over, "Nick, I need you." and "Nick, help me." and "Nick where are you, why don't you come." He saw the pale face and the tortured eyes. He saw Heath's hand reaching for him.

He tossed and turned in the bed, clutching the sheets in desperation. He screamed Heath's name He was calling over and over, but no one answered. He stopped suddenly at a strange rock formation, like a crude cross. Then he saw him and his eyes hurt. He jumped from the horse. No, it couldn't be. He dropped to his knees next to his brother's lifeless body. He hugged him and cried his name. It was too late. He felt a hand pulling at him.

"Nick, Nick"

He gasped and threw the hand off. He squinted in the lamplight and wondered why he was on the floor clutching his pillow. He saw Jarrod's concerned face.

"My God, are you all right. I heard you clear around the corner. You were screaming Heath's name."

Nick never moved of said a word. He barely blinked. Jarrod pulled him up and got him to the bed. He returned from across the room with a shot of whiskey. Nick downed it with trembling hands and turned to Jarrod.

"He's dead. It's my fault. He needed me. He was calling me, Jarrod, begging for help. But he was dead. I was too late."

"It was only a bad dream Nick, an awful nightmare."

"This was no ordinary dream Jarrod. I never felt anything so strong. You know I'm not superstitious, but this was a warning. I still got time to save him. I'm leaving in the morning."

Jarrod watched as Nick got his satchel from the closet and started to pack. He knew he wouldn't win the argument. Nick needed to see Heath...to touch him.

"I'll take you to the station at first light. It'll be okay Nick. I'm sure he's fine."

Kate wiped the flour off her hands and opened the door. She was momentarily perplexed at the sight of the Deputy Adam Wheeler.

"Adam, what brings you out here?"

It was before he even answered that she saw his face. Something was very wrong.

"What's happened? Has someone been hurt?"

"I'm sorry Kate, it's Scott. He's in the hospital in town. He's in a bad way."

She staggered backward and he grabbed her and steadied her. She stared at the flour and staggered to the kitchen to clean her hands at the pump. He stood uncomfortably behind her.

"Kate, where are John and Blackjack? I'd like them to be there when we tell Meg."

"John is...uh...around...out. I don't know. Blackjack is at Meg's."

"You get your coat and come with me. We'll send a hand for John."

"How bad is he?"

"Somebody did a real good job. The doctor was looking at him when I left. It was pretty messy."

Blackjack was reading a story to the boys while Meg relaxed on the sofa. They both jumped when the door opened. All the color drained out of Meg's face when she saw the deputy.

"No, please Adam, he's not..."

"He's alive Meg, but he's beat up pretty bad. He's at the hospital."

Blackjack placed the sleeping two-year-old on the couch. Sean's dark eyes frowned at the strange man. He didn't like him. He made his Mama cry. He hugged her and she rocked him.

Max and Carl, the foreman entered the house. The deputy updated them. Max left to get John, stating he would send him straight to town. Carl and his wife lived nearby. They had no children and would watch the two boys so Meg could be with Scott.

Blackjack contained the fury that grew in him for Meg's sake. He faced the deputy as something occurred to him.

"Where's Heath? Was he hurt too?"

"Heath's your grandson, a blond fella, about six foot? He's missing. He took off after the man who beat Scott. We got men out looking."

"Who was it?"

"We don't know Blackjack. Scott hasn't come around yet."

By the time they arrived, John was waiting. His horse moved a lot quicker than the wagon they took. He embraced his wife and took his daughter's shoulders. He looked down to the face so like his own.

"It's bad honey. He's gonna need you to be strong. Now, I'm warning you, he looks awful. But the doctor thinks with enough rest, care and a prayer to two, he'll pull through."

He held onto the shaking girl as they entered the room. Scott's bruised face was swollen and discolored. A large bandage covered his head. His casted arm rested across his taped chest. He was propped up behind pillows, allowing his aching chest to receive enough air.

"Oh my God" Meg's knees buckled.

John got her to a chair and Kate got her some water. Blackjack flagged down a nurse and asked for the doctor who attended Scott. He walked back into the room and stood by the bed. He rested a hand on the bruised cheek and felt the rage rising again. He heard every painful intake of air. John saw the storm coming and crossed the room. He grabbed Blackjack just at the fist was raised.

"I'll kill him with my bare hands. That son of a bitch Monroe's gonna be sorry he not dead already."

"Now you listen to me Pa, we don't who did this and Meg doesn't need any more upsetness. That baby isn't due for weeks yet. All this stress isn't good for them. Scott will tell us who did this. You control that temper of yours."

Blackjack didn't reply but looking at Meg's distraught face kept him in check. The doctor entered and introduced himself. He took Meg's hands and squeezed reassuringly.

"I know he looks bad, and it is serious, but I think he'll be fine. He's got several broken ribs, a broken arm and a concussion. The facial contusions are minor. He hasn't said anything. It may be several hours before he comes around. There is an empty room down the hall if you need to rest. When are you due?"

"Not for a few weeks yet. I've had cramps this morning, but not for several hours now. Thank you for helping Scott."

Kate left Meg long enough to take John aside.

"Blackjack's gonna burst if you don't get him outta here and calm him down some. Also, Cat will be back from the Johnson's soon. I'll wait here with Meg, you take him home and update Cat."

"Pa, why don't we head over to the sheriff's office. Maybe they got news about Heath. Then we'll go home and get Cat." John suggested

Blackjack bend over the battered boy's form. He brushed back the dark hair and leaned in close.

"You hear me boy. You come back to us. I'll get the ...he'll be sorry he laid a hand on you. I need you Scott, don't you quit on me."

Although he didn't speak, Blackjack saw the eyelids moving and heard the faint moan.

"That's it son, you fight."

Nick got off the train in Denver and headed for the livery. He had been coming here enough years to be familiar with the area. As a child, his family came out once a year to visit. When he got older, he came with his father. They went to Texas every year for the cattle auctions. They always stopped on their way home. He spent several summers here.

He passed the sheriff's office on the way to the livery and out of the side of his eye caught a familiar face. He stopped and retraced his steps. Glancing in the window, he saw his irate grandfather waving a cane, narrowly missing the sheriff's head. He opened the door, catching part of the stream.

"...the hell have you been doing. I got one grandson beat to pulp and another one missing. I don't want you sorry excuses, I want answers." The cane banged on the desk.

Nick stood transfixed at the words that hit him like a wall. He watched his uncle trying to pacify the cursing senior. They all noticed him at once. His name came across the room.

"NICK! How did you get here so fast?" His uncle asked

"What...What do you mean?" Nick stuttered.

"We only sent the wire this morning." John answered.

Nick felt a strong arm and met his grandfather's eye. He didn't like what he saw there.

"What happened to him, Blackjack? How bad is he?"

"I'm sorry boy, he's missing. Him and Scott came to town this morning and Scott ended up in the hospital. Somebody used him for a punching bag. Heath took off after the animal and never came back."

Nick head was spinning. His awful nightmare was coming true. He felt his uncle's arm guide him to the door.

"Let's go back and see if Scott's awake yet. He's the only lead we have."

"The hell you say. I'm going to the skunk's ranch and beat the truth out of him."

Nick's mouth turned up slightly at the crusty old man's words. He was proud he inherited that feisty, temper. Blackjack understood him; he had the same passion.

"Pa, we don't know if Monroe was responsible. Talk sense. Your not gonna beat anyone up. What if Scott's awake and looking for you."

"Uncle John's right. I want to find whoever did this too, and they're gonna regret the day they were born. Let's see if Scott can point us in the right direction."

The hospital was just down the street. Nick listened as his uncle described Scott's injuries. By the time they got to Scott's room, Nick was livid. John knew he had his work cut out for him, restraining both of them.

Nick's face darkened as he took in Scott's mauled body. Kate saw the familiar steely eyes and grim mouth. Like Blackjack, she recognized a potential explosion. She rose and took his hands.

"Nick, how on earth did you get here so fast."

Nick couldn't tear his gaze away. He walked over and stood looking down at Scott. He remembered the first time they met. He was 16, same as Scott. He and his father had stopped in after the auction, as they always did. They arrived as Blackjack was loudly addressing an unkempt boy his own age. His long dark hair reminded Nick of an Indian. His skin wasn't as dark and his features only partially reflected that. He intense stare chilled the normally fired up Nick. After he went to bed, he overheard his father and uncle talking about the boy. He heard about the awful beatings the boy suffered. That was the first summer he stayed. They fought constantly, his Aunt seemed to do nothing but stitch them up and keep a large supply of liniment. But by the summers end their hard fought friendship had begun. Scott came out during the winters and spent two months in Stockton. Nick was proud over the next few years as Scott transformed.

"Nick?"

He shook himself and looked down to his pretty aunt. He explained about the bad feeling he had about Heath, but left out the details

"I'm sorry, I was thinkin' about all the summers I spent with him. Whoever did this is going to pay."

He reached down and took the limp hand off the sheet.

"Hey Scott, it's Nick. What's up with you lying around just when I decide to visit? How about waking up and saying hello?"

There was no movement from the bed. Nick swallowed hard, taking in every colorful bruise and feeling the painful breaks. He moved aside so Blackjack could talk to the still form. For the first time he noticed the walls were light green and the curtains were white. He knew before he turned that the picture on the wall would be a painting of a boy and a dog. He walked over and stared mutely at it. He felt the pins and needles in his body. He picked up the newspaper and read the date. He still had two days.

"Wake up you lazy red-skin varmint."

The ice water assaulted his senses, hitting him the same time the words did. He didn't move, his eyes were too heavy to open. A kick in the gut drew him to his knees. He felt a strong hand haul him by the scruff of his shirt and sent him hard into a wall. His slid down to a sitting position and shook his head clear. A huge mountain of a man was approaching.

Heath's eyes left the menace long enough to size up his situation. It was a small cabin; the cold air ran free through the broken windows. It hadn't been used in a while. A shadow crossed in front on him and he dodged the blow that came his way.

"Didn't I tell you I wanted this place clean when I got home. Get that fire started."

"Go to hell." Heath growled

He launched himself at the brute and they landed on the floor. Heath quickly realized his mistake. The huge man had a good five inches and fifty to sixty pounds on him. He held his own only briefly. The hands around his neck were cutting off his air supply. He heard his own gargling sounds as black spots danced before him. He sank to the floor and took in the needed air. He heard the gun in his ear.

"Move, get out and get some firewood you Indian dog."

Patience wasn't Nick's strong point. He knew his uncle was right. It was dark and he wouldn't be able to accomplish anything riding off into unfamiliar terrain at night.

"I know you're frustrated Nick, I want to find him too. With a good night's rest, we have a dozen men up at first light. We can put in a good 12 hours tomorrow. By then maybe Scott will be able to help. There are dozens of trails in those mountains, you could spends weeks going in the wrong direction."

"Yeah, I know." was the disgruntled reply

They were in the small dining room at the hospital having coffee. Nick's relentless pacing had prodded John to get him out of the room for awhile. He looked up to see the sheriff approaching.

"John, you got keep Blackjack under control. I know he's upset, but I can't have him running around playing vigilante. Adam caught him heading out to Monroe's place. Monroe and his sons were on their ranch when the incident occurred. A dozen hands were witnesses. I have men out at first light. You see to your father."

John nodded and Nick spoke.

"Where is he?"

"He'll be here in a minute. Adam's bringing him up. I'm sorry John, I know you all felt Monroe was behind this. The shopkeeper only remembers Heath; he didn't see the suspect. Unless Scott can help us, we grasping at straws.'

"Now wait a minute, I got a brother out there lost, maybe hurt. You find a way to get some answers. Somebody in town must have seen something. You can't just give up." Nick's anger rose as his tall frame seethed.

"Nobody's giving up son, it's dark and late. I can't send men out now. We'll do everything we can."

John clapped the sheriff on the back and stood in front of his father's persona.

"Come on Nick, visiting hours are over. Let's get Kate and Meg and head home."

Blackjack was in the room when they approached. He saw the angry look in his son's eyes

"Don't you give me any speeches. I don't care what Monroe says; he's behind this somehow. I'm gonna pay him a visit first thing tomorrow. "

John shook his head in frustration and was about to counter that thought when the doctor came in and requested they leave. It was eight p.m. and visiting hours were over. Kate and Meg each kissed the sleeping man and Meg sobbed all the way to the hall. John and Nick stopped and spoke to Scott, reassuring him. Blackjack took a seat and refused to move.

"I'm sorry sir, you'll have to leave now."

"I'm sorry too, I ain't movin'. The last thing that boy needs is to wake up in a strange place alone. He needs me here. I'm staying."

"No, you'll have to go. It's the hospital rules. He'll have the best care available. I'll have a nurse stay with him. If he wakes, I'll note what he says and get the sheriff. You have to leave."

Blackjack argued back loudly and colorfully. Nick and John both tried their best. But it was a weak voice from the bed that silenced the trio.

"Mr. Barkley, is that you?"

Blackjack stood and leaned down as the dark eyes opened a slit. A hand reached up and Blackjack took it.

"Yeah, son, I'm right here. You're gonna be fine."

He watched curiously, as Scott became upset and agitated. There was fear in his voice as he spoke again.

"Can you help me Mr. Barkley? I've done something bad. I need...I need..."

Scott's head lolled and he was out again. Blackjack pleaded with him to open his eyes. He stroked the bruised face to no avail. He heard John trying to reason with the doctor.

"Look, it's obvious my son-in-law is confused. I don't want him waking up with nobody here that he knows. One of us has to stay."

"John, I appreciate your concern, but hospitals have these rules for a reason. It can't be helped.

It was a long quiet ride to the ranch. Nobody spoke. Kate put food out, but nobody was hungry.

Nick stared out the front window into the night. He felt Blackjack behind him and welcomed the hand on his shoulder.

"You don't how glad I am to see you boy. If there's anybody that can find him it's you. He does nothing but talk about you. He's ready to go home. It's time you two stood together."

"Yes sir, I sure miss him. I will find him, I promise you. Who is this guy Monroe? Why do you think he's behind this?"

Nick heard the air expel and turned to see the dark look on Blackjack's face and the hate in his eyes. He followed the old man to the sofa, sat and listened.

"Matt, that's Scott's Pa, got a little spread here when he was a few years younger than you are now. Ike Monroe was courting Mary, that's Scott's ma, at the time. Well Matt met her at a church dance and fell in love. Ike never forgave her, been bitter all these years. His wife was able to keep that anger and filthy mouth of his in check. But since she died a few years back, he's poisoned the minds of his two boys as well. Every chance they get they hurl slurs at Scott, cause of his grandma. The day your Uncle John came back from the funeral, Scott and Heath went in town to meet him. They ran into the Monroe's . Those varmints not only called Scott names, but insulted Heath too. Scott cleaned the street up with them, but Ike threatened him. I've always been afraid that this might happen one day."

"I hope Monroe is an early riser." Nick growled.

The sound of the fire crackling illuminated the two faces set in stone.

Heath watched the madman guzzle the cheap liquor. He was deranged; living in a fantasy world. His mixed up mind was more dangerous than if he was sane. Heath stacked more firewood and returned to the stove. The gun never left his back. There were a few supplies on the table. Tins of food, soup and some coffee. It wasn't much of a meal, but it kept the beast sated. He thought back on the day's events.

He chased the stranger who beat Scott to the edge of town. He turned the corner by the livery, with his gun drawn and was slammed hard in the head. He had no idea how long he was out or where they were. It was dark by the time he went out for firewood, he thought by the dark mountains; they were north of town somewhere. He shivered as the air rushed through the room.

He eyed his coat in the corner and went to retrieve it. The beast stopped eating and stood in his way.

"Where you headed?"

"It's cold in here, I'm getting my coat"

"You kind don't need coats. You're always running around naked in the woods."

Heath ignored him and continued toward the gray wool jacket. He felt the meaty paws lift him and send him flying into the wall. He charged at the midsection and the man's gun dropped. They both scrambled for it. Heath had his hands on it and was trying to get a better grip when he felt his hair being grabbed and his face was slammed into the floor.

Ike Monroe was eating breakfast when the three Barkley's arrived uninvited. It was just past dawn and Blackjack stormed to the table. Both Ike's sons jumped up but Ike indicated them to be seated. He stood and approached the trio.

"Heard tell that the bastard and the half-breed ran into some trouble yesterday. Never did find out which one of you sired that loser whelp."

Nick launched himself at the bigot and sent him crashing through a table. His fists found a target twice before John pulled him off. Blackjack drew his gun and kept the two younger Monroes in their seats.

"You better start talking old man and you better pray I find my brother alive. There won't be anywhere you can hide." Nick boiled.

"That's enough. Look Monroe, I won't stand for talk like that. We came here for some answers. Now you talk to me civilized or I'll let my nephew loose on you. What do you know about Heath and Scott." John threatened

Ike stood and spit a wad of blood into the fire. He threw a warning finger at Nick Barkley.

"You're lucky I don't have my iron on. You'd be dead. I don't take that from anyone. I told the sheriff, we were branding all day. I got witnesses, lots of them. I only wish I had wiped the street with that stinkin' Indian."

An unearthly sound came from Nick as he threw himself on Ike Monroe. He got that neck and squeezed. He saw red and didn't hear John pleading with him. He seemed oblivious to all around. Blackjack's voice finally got through. He felt the hands pull at him.

"Get up from there. I ain't plannin' on visiting you in jail. Heath needs you. He's out there and you gotta find him."

Nick got to his feet slowly and his icy eyes never left Ike's face. Ike Monroe didn't scare easily, but the look on the young man's face chilled him to the bone.

They left and headed for town to see Scott and get some answers. Nick stared at the skyline and tried in vain to remember the last part of the dream. He knew he was forgetting something. But it evaded him.

The bite of rawhide caused him to jump-start his system. He was on his knees tied to and facing the foot posts of an old bed. He shivered as the icy wind blew across his bare skin. Ragged bits of the tender inside of his lip were stuck to the wooden plank his face pressed against. He ran his tongue painfully over the ripped lip. He tested each hand and found the left tie was loose. He heard the footsteps approach and felt his head yanked back by the hair. He smelled the dank, foul breath. He felt the leather pressed hard against his windpipe.

"You just wait till them black eyes of yours open. I'll teach you to answer me back."

He sighed in relief as the footsteps retreated and he heard snoring. He worked the left tie until he freed that hand. He quickly untied the other hand and pulled his face away from the plank. He saw the blood and bits of skin that still clung there. He winced as the painful process of circulation restoration to his legs started. He sat on the rotted mattress and waited for his legs to resume working.

It was a dark night and the cabin was freezing. He saw his shirt thrown in the corner. Only two buttons remained, but it was enough to keep the shirt closed. The fire was out and only a small lamp cast a dim light in the room. He stood up and bit back the pain in his upper back. He tiptoed past the sleeping giant to get his coat. His icy fingers fumbled with the buttons. Unfortunately, the gun was tucked in the massive waistband. He looked at the brutal beast that once masqueraded as Scott's stepfather.

He walked slowly to the door and winced as a loose floorboard groaned. He heard the chair go back and bolted. He had his hand on the doorlatch, when the whip snaked viciously around his neck. He clawed at it in desperation. A jerk backwards caused his neck to snap and the jagged edges of the strap cut into his throat. He had little air left. He turned and got hold of the rawhide leash. He pulled with all his might and fell back against the door. The tension eased enough for him to pull the noose off and crawl outside. He crawled as fast as he could, sucking in air through his painful throat. He heard Crawford stumbling in the dark, trying to find him. He managed to get on the horse and almost made it. The misguided shot took the horse from under him. He jumped and fled on foot into the dark, unfamiliar cold woods. He didn't have to glance back to know the Crawford was following him.

"Do I look that bad?" He wheezed.

"Look like a bucket of gold to me, boy." Blackjack said as he rubbed Scott's shoulder.

"Nick?" He looked painfully at his cousin.

"Well, it's about time you woke up. How you feelin?"

"A little sore. I'll be okay. What happened?"

The three Barkley's exchanged worried glances. John moved to Scott's side and spoke calmly.

"You had us good and worried, son. Meg's fine, Kate will bring her over later. Scott, what is that last thing you remember?"

They watched him close his eyes and cover them with his hand. After several minutes, the hand retreated back to the white sheet. His confused eyes confirmed their fear.

"The last thing I remember is breakfast with Meg and the boys, until the nurse woke me up."

Nobody spoke for a minute and that upset the injured man. He disoriented eyes and shaking hand saw and felt the bandaged chest. He stared at the cast and felt his head. He looked from one disheartened face to the others.

"Please tell me what happened." He baffled.

John sat on the edge of the bed and quietly filled Scott in on what they knew. He watched the ashen complexion as Scott's head sank into the pillow. His hollow stare and silence were upsetting.

"I'm sorry" he mumbled.

"Nonsense. You don't have anything to be sorry for. Somebody beat the stuffing out of you. It's not your fault. We'll find Heath. He's smart and tough. You need all your strength to get well." Nick chastised from the foot of the bed.

"Nick's right. Stop talkin' nonsense. Besides, you're memory will come back. You get some rest, I know your head's pounding." Blackjack added.

Nick and John headed back to the ranch to organize teams of men to hunt for Heath. Blackjack remained by Scott's side, soon joined by Meg and Kate.

John drew a crude map of the end of town where Heath was last seen. The large amount of terrain bordering town proved an almost impossible challenge. The agreed to each take a trail and meet back at the end of town at 2 p.m. Nick and John scoured their area with no luck. They were hoping that one of the other teams found a sign. But the rendezvous produced no results. Nick was more than worried. John saw the pained features and knew what his nephew was thinking. Alone, possibly hurt all night in bitter cold weather would be fatal. They still had several hours of daylight and resumed their search, meeting back at the ranch at 6 p.m. John's horse pulled up lame and Nick told him to go back to the ranch. He knew his way back and would come in later.

"Nick, I want your word. These woods are dangerous and deadly at night. One wrong turn and you'd be lost forever. Don't take any unnecessary chances." John ordered.

"I hear ya. I'm not fool enough to get lost out here. Wouldn't do Heath any good. I come in by dark." He promised.

It was almost six p.m. and the sun would be leaving in an hour. Nick didn't feel the cold. His insides were numb from a different form of bitterness. His mind was reeling with mixed thoughts. He knew logically, that two days in this cold climate would kill an injured man. But somehow, he felt his brother's presence. Heath was still alive. He could almost sense him nearby. He had been racking his brain to find the missing piece of the dream. He turned the horse back to the main trail to town when he saw it.

Heath absorbed every bit of heat the brilliant sunlight shining through the window produced. He had been lucky. His flight started near enough to daybreak that the morning sun helped warm him. Crawford's pursuit was relentless. Heath felt like a trapped deer, stalked by a hunter. Twice bullets whizzed by, shattered tree branches near his head. He dodged the last bullet and slid down a ravine. From where he landed, he spotted a small deserted shack. It was tiny, but dry and had windows. He didn't dare light the woodstove in the corner for fear Crawford would see the smoke. But the afternoon sun through the window warmed him. Crawford knew he was near and Heath could see him above, stalking.

The shack was obscured from the road above. He hoped the sweat on his face and body was due to the warm sun and not a fever. He needed his head. It had been a couple hours since he'd arrived and Crawford appeared every few minutes, often sitting on the rocks above, laughing maniacally. He watched and realized that had been quite a while since he'd seen him. He would lose the light soon; he had to take a chance. He exited the shack and climbed up the path to the road above. He stood by an unusual rock formation and looked around the unfamiliar terrain. Which way to town, a wrong choice would be costly.

Nick reined the horse in and stared in muted astonishment at the sight he'd so longed to see. A huge smile split his face as he slid from the horse. Heath was looking east and suddenly felt a chill up his spine. His hair stood on end and he turned slowly around. He thought for sure he was seeing things; it must surely be a fever. He rubbed his eyes and the vision came closer, only a few feet away. His beaming smile was a sight Nick had waited for. A miracle, in what must be an enchanted forest, on a side trail. He was a few feet from the bearhug he'd been planning, when he saw a huge man appear behind Heath and raise a pistol at the unprotected blond head. Heath watched the unadulterated joy on his brother's face dissolve into a horrific gape.

"NO!!" Nick screamed and flung himself at Heath as the shot rang out.

He body-slammed Heath and simultaneously fired two rounds off. The echo of gunfire cascaded around the bend. Then only silence.

Kate rolled over and felt the cold, empty side of the large bed. Sighing heavily, she slipped on the heavy flannel wrap and went downstairs. It was well after midnight. She watched him hunched forward, resting his head in his hands. She sat down next to the anguished figure and ran her hand up the strong spine.

"John, come to bed. This moping won't accomplish a thing. You'll have another long day tomorrow, you need to rest. It's not your fault."

"I should have made him come back. It's below freezing out there, he couldn't survive a..."

She pulled the face into her hands and looked into the lost eyes. He always found a way to punish himself harder than anyone else could. After twenty-five years of marriage, that lost look always tugged at her heart.

"Honey, he's an adult. He knew the risks. Maybe he went too far and found a cabin. You know that side of the mountain is littered with deserted cabins. It just possible he found something and decided to stay over and continue in the morning."

"You go on back to bed, I'm just not tired. I'll be up later."

"I guess I'm staying then." Kate snuggled in closer.

He kissed her hand and put a strong arm around her, drawing her close. They sat there a long time; he felt the small hand rubbing his spine. The light touch relaxed him. He leaned back and watched the fire formations.

It was almost dawn when he snuck from her embrace. She turned over and he covered her with a blanket. He went in the kitchen and made some coffee. He stared at the first light of dawn as it tapped on his window. He sat at the table and huddled around the mug.

"Is this a private party or can anyone wallow in?" Blackjack demanded.

John looked up as his father crossed the room and sat across from him at the kitchen table. He resumed his attention to the swirling pattern the cream made in the black coffee.

"It's my fault, Pa. He could be dead out there. What am I going to tell Victoria when they get here?"

"First of all, get that long face off the table. Secondly, Nick Barkley is well out of short pants; you didn't desert a 10-year-old child out there. He as smart as a whip. He went farther than he should and found himself one of them deserted cabins to sleep in. You didn't get any sleep, did you."

Blackjack watched John shake his head and take a long sip of coffee. From the time John was a child, he would get that pained looked and retreat. This was something Blackjack never understood. He liked to bite into the problem and spit the head out. Face it head on and get on with it. But this quiet son of his just hurt too deeply.

"He would have listened to you. Somehow, you'd have made him listen." John reasoned

"You two boys were the best thing ever happened to me. I watched you and Tom grow up and thanked God both of you got what your Ma called "quiet reasoning" from her. Boy, I've seen the results of your patience and intelligence. You have nearly tripled the size of this spread in the last twenty-five years. I couldn't have ever done that. I don't have the patience or foresight to see the long-term results of a plan. Expanding into Durango and now into Sante Fe is something I could never envision. You passed that fine trait to your Meg. You know she had every high falutin' bachelor in the area after her. Hell, even had a Senator courtin' her. But she waited, sat back and analyzed until she found the right man. She saw that long-term vision that you did. She knew he'd be the only one to share this dream. Now because of you and..." he paused and took John's open palms and continued. "these guiding hands of yours, an empire will be passed onto your grandsons. Every day when you go out that door, I thank God for the good sense he had to create something so fine."

John swallowed hard and shook his head. He rose to refill his coffee mug and stood behind the old shoulders. He squeezed them hard and bent down and kissed the aged cheek.

"I think I might have a word with God myself. Seems he did a pretty fair job in the father department too."

Nick stared up at Heath. Both men were panting hard from their unexpected trip down the ravine. Nick was lying flat on the wet ground. Heath was kneeling in front of him, his hands resting on his thighs. Their eyes met and both men were taken back in time to their last meeting; the night of Heath's flight.

"I think I owe you an apology little brother." He offered along with his hand.

Heath took a long meaningful glance at the dark blue eyes and then up to the rocks above. Nick followed the glance and met Heath's grateful blue gaze as it came back to him. Both knew he was thinking of the close call. Way to close. Heath voice was more than full when he took Nick's hand and hauled him up.

"I know I owe you a lot more than that," he paused "big brother."

Heath pulled Nick into an embrace. Nick rubbed the blond hair and nodded on Heath's shoulder. Heath's initial elation faded when he realized that Nick's pants weren't just wet from the snow. He eased the dark cowboy onto a nearby log and felt the upper thigh gingerly. He heard Nick's sharp intake of breath and the pressure of the hand on his shoulder increase.

Nick eyed the wound. He lifted the leg and instructed Heath to check for an exit wound.

"Go on, what are you waiting for?" He said impatiently

Heath hand came away stained red. The bullet passed through. Nick untied his scarf and retied it around his upper thigh. He put an arm around Heath's shoulder and stood up. He tested the leg and was able to put weight on it. A good sign, no broken bone.

"The horse?" Nick asked as he sat back down on the log.

He watched as Heath carefully made his way up the steep grade and over the top. After several minutes, he saw Heath reappear above and shake his head. He looked perplexed for several minutes, then sat down and slid back down the hill.

Nick looked around and spotted the tiny shack. It was almost dark. The horse was long gone, bolting at the fire storm. Heath and he hobbled inside. There was a chair, a table, woodstove and a mat on the floor. Heath eased Nick into the chair and disappeared outside. It was a while before he returned. He stacked wood for the fire in the corner. He got the stove started and the chilly room warmed up. Heath knelt in front of him, turning the table on its side and easing the injured leg to a raised position.

Nick winced at the bloody mess that once was his brother's nose and mouth .He was about to comment, when he saw the rueful look in the light blue eyes.

"Now cut that out right now. Better my leg than your head. I'd say you used up all your good luck in that department, wouldn't you?" Nick sought loudly, handing Heath his pocketknife.

Heath looked up briefly and returned to his task. He picked up a solitary tin cup from the corner of the room. He rubbed it with snow and set it on the stove. He filled the inside with snow and once melted, wiped it out with the corner of his shirt, which hung below his coat. He filled it again and waited for the snow to melt.

Nick watched Heath's actions and with each passing silent moment, his impatience increased. When Heath glanced his way, he snapped.

"You know, I didn't travel all this way, risking life" he patted his injured leg "and limb I might add, to talk to myself."

He thought he caught a brief glint in the eye and turn up of the unmashed lip. Nick grimaced at his brother crawled underneath the upturned table to inspect the wound's exit area. He carefully cut away the fabric of Nick's pants that surrounding the tender, torn thigh. He resumed his place kneeling in front of his older brother. Nick eyed the precise movements in appreciation. His brother patiently unwound the fabric from back to front, stopping and frowning at the section stuck to the skin around the entry point.

"Oh for Pete's sake, just tear it off" Nick complained and started to do just that.

Heath grabbed the brown glove and slapped it aside.

"Boy Howdy, remind me never to get shot up around you. You'd kill me as soon as cure me."

"Well as I live and breath, the Sphinx speaks." Nick astounded.

He watched in amusement at Heath unsuccessfully tried not to laugh. The lopsided grin he remembered so well finally appeared. He dribbled some warm water on the fabric and then gently peeled the material from Nick's skin. Nick sucked his breath through his teeth and exhaled slowly.

"Sorry." Heath said while he resumed his inspection. " Caught the fleshy area. I'm gonna clean it up and wrap it good. Just what were you doin' out there?"

"Lookin' for you. Came in on the train yesterday. I ...uh saw what he did to Scott."

Heath's head flew up and his hands froze. Nick saw the worried look in the light eyes.

"He's busted up good, but the doctor thinks he'll be okay. He can't remember anything about it. Blackjack almost decapitated the sheriff, he was so mad."

Heath and Nick both grinned broadly thinking of that amazing man. Heath cut a large section of the bottom of his shirt and deftly made several long strips and some square ones. Nick eased at his brother's gentle touch. He lightly dabbed the area with warm water. Nick held the patch in place while Heath secured the strips. Nick took his gloves off and ran his hand over the bandage.

"Not bad, but don't give up you day job just yet."

"Don't worry. Those busted fences in Spring Meadow would look good right about now." Heath mused

"You standing next to me on the ranch would look even better." Nick said seriously.

Heath met the gaze and saw clear through those dark blue eyes of his brother's. He read the message spelled there and nodded.

"I hear ya, Nick. Matter of fact, I swear I been hearing you for awhile now. It feels right. I'm lookin' forward to going home."

"That's music to my ears brother." Nick smiled "Now would you please clean up that face of yours, you look like a bull kicked you.'

Satisfied, he knelt up straight and Nick saw the raw open welts making a sick, circular pattern around Heath's throat. He grabbed his brother's arm.

"How'd you get marked up like that?" He demanded.

Nick watched as Heath's hand traveled over the coat collar to his throat. His eye's clouded over and for a moment Nick thought his brother wasn't in the room anymore.

Heath still could smell the reeking stench of that animal. He shivered involuntarily almost feeling the beefy hands again.

"Hey, hey" Nick said tapping the shoulder. "Snap out of it."

Heath stood and stiffly walked to the stove. He carried the cup of warm water over to Nick and handed it to him. He held out his cupped hands and Nick poured some water in them. He watched as Heath rinsed some of the dried blood off his mouth and nose. The lip was torn up pretty good. Nick eyed the remaining bits of fabric and soaked them in the water that was left.

"Here, better clean up that neck too. Did he do that to you?" Nick seethed.

Heath nodded and looked hard at his brother. His hand jerked involuntary at the sting on his tender flesh. He finally answered Nick's question.

"That animal was Scott's stepfather. He was insane; thought I was Scott. He..." Heath didn't finish.

He winced as he walked across the room. His back was on fire. He couldn't get comfortable. He now knew the heat on his face was a fever. He thought of the food and other items Crawford had stored at the cabin. It wasn't much, but better than nothing.

"I gonna head up the road. There's a cabin there, has some tins of food, coffee and other stuff. I'll be right back."

"Now hold on. It's dark out there, how do you even know where to find this cabin." Nick argued

Heath didn't answer. Nick saw the unease flash in Heath's eyes. He watched his brother button his coat and walk towards the door.

"It was his place, wasn't it?" Nick added

"Yeah, it's about a half mile or so. I won't be long, moon's pretty full."

Heath entered the cold cabin and lit the small lamp. He moved to the small kitchen area and found Crawford's bag. It was nearly empty, but the half dozen cans and a tin of coffee would have to do. He took the old coffeepot, tin cups, plates and spoons from the stark cupboard. He saw a pile of clothes on the table and was surprised to find a new shirt. Clean bandages, he thought as he took the white cotton object. He turned to leave and saw Crawford staring at him from the table. He dropped the bag, gasped and backed up into the wall, panting fast. His relief was audible when he realized the open eyes were unseeing. He retrieved the bag and looked around the room for his gunbelt. He spotted it hanging on a nail behind Crawford on the wall. He hurried along; the dead man's gaze was unnerving him. He blew out the lamp and took it with him.

Nick was sleeping on the mat on the floor when he returned. He added some wood to the stove and set his treasure up in the corner of the room. He lit the lamp and set it on the table. He filled one of the cups with snow and drank the cool melted mixture. He was awfully thirsty. He took off his coat and walked over to where Nick was sleeping. He knelt and checked the leg. The bandages were tinted crimson and Heath set about changing them. Nick never stirred. The heat around it indicated a fever, which Heath confirmed with a hand to Nick's forehead. He went outside and filled the coffeepot with water. After it melted, he poured two cups of water. Setting them down carefully, he lifted Nick's upper body up. Nick woke up instantly

"What?" He startled

"Here, drink some water, you've got a fever."

Nick drained both cups and looked up at the flushed face over him. He raised his hand to the scarlet cheek.

"Looks like I got company."

Heath eased Nick back down. Nick thought to ask Heath why he had a fever. His own was due to the bullet wound. But before he could formulate the thought, he was asleep.

Heath set the pot of water nearby. He pulled the table upright and sat down, resting his aching head on the table. He didn't remember falling asleep.

"I think we may have the break we've been looking for."

"How? What happened?" John asked leading the marshal into the kitchen.

He nodded his greeting and waved off Kate's invite for breakfast.

"Adam took your nephew Nick's idea and ran with it. He got nothing in the way of a lead from the shopkeepers. But then he thought of the train that pulled in. He hit both hotels near the station and found two witnesses. They were businessmen from St. Louis. They saw Heath chasing the suspect. Adam took them right over to the illustrator at the Rocky Mountain News office."

He stopped and looked at Blackjack. Something in his gaze worried the old man. He took the sketch from the lawman. He stared in disbelief at the unmistaken form of Zack Crawford, Scott's stepfather. He handed the sketch to John and addressed the sheriff.

"How he get out of jail? He's supposed to be in for life."

"He escaped over a month ago. I showed the drawing to a few stores near the station. Claude Little recognized him. Said he came in a couple weeks ago, bought some supplies and was rambling, incoherent almost. I wired the warden at the prison. His answer came in just as I left. Crawford is insane. He killed two guards and escaped. My guess is he came back for Scott. When Heath chased him, in his derangement, he only saw Scott. My bet is he's back at that old cabin."

"What are we waiting for?" Blackjack rallied, getting his coat.

John kissed Kate and squeezed her hands.

"Where's your nephew" The marshal asked.

"He didn't come home last night. He's out there somewhere. Matter of fact, not far from Crawfords place." John added.

"Kate, don't say anything to Scott about Crawford. Just tell him we got a lead. He don't need to be upset."

Nick heard the shouting and sat up in the semi- darkness. The glow of the stove and lamp cast shadows around the tiny room. He was disoriented at first; his dizzy gaze went around the unfamiliar area. His glazed eyes found the table above and to his left. From where he sat, he only saw the tan pants. He heard Heath talking, hollering and cursing at some invisible enemy.

:"Wake up. Heath, wake up." Nick leaned across the floor and hit the tan leg. "Get up."

Heath jumped so fast, the chair fell over. Nick watched in confusion at first. Heath was backed up against the wall. His face was covered in sweat. He was panting and frightened of some unseen enemy.

Nick's inner alarm went off at the sight of the terrified eyes. He managed to get to his feet and grabbed the table to steady himself. The sudden movement scared his brother even more. Nick watched in horror as Heath drew his gun.

"WHOA." He cried, putting up his hands defensively in front of him. "Heath, it's me. It's Nick. Put that gun down. You were dreaming."

Heath's arm wavered, causing the gun to shake. His breaths came in heavy pants. He watched as the guard pleaded for his life. He looked around the cell. Where was Spence? What had they done with him? He closed his eyes and shook his head. He heard Spence calling him. He felt the guard take the gun away. He slid down the wall and tried to answer, but he was too tired.

Nick sighed in relief and looked down to where Heath slumped. He picked the chair up and sat down, rubbing the injured leg and relieved to find no red stains. He saw the pot of water and poured a cup. He kicked at Heath's leg with his own good leg.

"Hey, wake up. Don't you go to sleep on me! I got something for you."

Heath opened his eyes and took the cup Nick offered. He saw the fright in Nick's eyes. Nick handed him a second cup and spoke slowly.

"You okay now? You scared the daylights outta me. Must have been quite a dream."

"It was a nightmare. I was back at Carterson." He drained the cup and handed it back.

Nick thought he heard wrong. Carterson? That was Confederate prison where Union prisoners were kept. From all accounts it was a living hell, more than two-thirds of the prisoners died there. "Carterson, the prison? My God Heath, you were in Carterson?" Nick asked incredulously.

"Seven months near the end of the war." Heath drew his legs up and crossed his arms across them, resting his head. Nick rubbed a weary hand on the wet blond hair.

"I'm sorry Heath, I had no idea."

They sat like that for several minutes. Heath finally straightened up and looked across the room at the small bounty.

"You hungry?" He asked

"Yeah, why don't fix us a couple thick steaks, baked potatoes and some cold beer."

"Comin' right up." Heath chuckled and stood up.

Nick's eyes froze in horror at the sight of Heath's back. Scarlet stripes crossed the cotton fabric in a slashing pattern. He couldn't find his voice at first. He thought of the dead man; how unjust that he died so quickly. Seeing the aftermath of his brother's torture, Nick would have preferred his hands to a gun. As his rage rose, he watched Heath dump the contents of a tin into two cups. He placed them on the stove. Nick found his voice and swallowed hard. He picked up the empty pot.

"Heath, we need more water."

It only took a few minutes to melt the white powder. Heath walked over to the table and placed the pot on it. He saw the look of agonizing compassion in Nick's eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, brother. How about taking your shirt off and letting me clean up that mess." Nick said gently.

Heath looked at Nick and then cast his eyes away. He stood uncertain and felt the tug on his sleeve.

"Let me help you, Heath. That's what brother's do."

He unbuttoned the two buttons and started to undress. The first problem arose.

"It won't come off."

Nick poured some of the water into the drinking cup.

"Heat this up a little, it'll loosen the ...well it should help."

That done, Heath handed the cup to Nick and knelt down in front of him. Nick carefully poured the warm water over the disgusting stripes. He saw Heath's white knuckles and heard the intake of breath. His own breath was on hold, forced back by anger and frustration. He released it slowly and squeezed the shoulder in support. He tried gently to unpeel the shirt, but parts of it held fast.

"Just pull it, Nick." Heath clenched.

"Heath, I can't..." Nick pained.

"As someone once told me, "Oh for Pete's sake, just tear it off."

Heath mimicked Nick's tone and ripped the shirt off. Nick sat back stunned and caught his breath. Heath had fallen forward on all fours and was trying to regulate his breathing. He finally knelt back up. He handed Nick the knife. Nick cut the tail of the shirt off and spent the next several minutes, trying to clean up the vile reminder, with shaking hands. With every soothing stroke, he was killing that beast in his head, all over again. He couldn't help but notice the old scars. Heath flinched a few times, but finally the agony was over. Nick rubbed the moisture from his eyes as Heath stood on shaky legs. He turned and Nick saw the embarrassment on the blond's face.

"Thanks Nick" He said thickly and turned to check on their late supper.

Nick grabbed the bare arm; Heath turned and heard the stern order.

"Hey, you hold that head up on your way over there, okay?"

Once again, Heath was able to read the message spelled out so clear in Nick's eyes and voice. He nodded and carried the soup over to the table. He picked up his shirt and put it back on. They ate in silence. Nick finally spoke

"Next time, I pick the hotel." He jested.

Heath's grin turned into a laugh. Nick joined him and picked up the pot.

"More champagne?"

"Don't mind if I do." Heath offered the tin cup.

They talked for quite some time. Somehow the events of the night had allowed them each to open up. Heath haltingly told Nick about his journey, the uncertainty he felt and about finding the road home. Nick spoke of his lost weeks after their father's death and how he too had to find his path. The more they spoke, the easier it became. Nick listened as Heath quietly spoke. He finally understood why his younger brother's silent strength meant so much to him. They finally decided to get some sleep. Nick limped over to the mat and eased himself down. Heath turned the lamp low and sat on the chair, resting his head on the table. Nick listened as twice the chair moved noisily.

"Quit rearranging the furniture and get some sleep." He complained

Several minutes later, he heard Heath the guardian speak

"I won't move again, I can see you now."

Nick smiled and looked over at the sleeping sibling

"Same here, brother."

"It's okay, I'll kill it."

Nick rubbed his eyes and watched in confusion as Heath smashed his fist repeatedly against the floor. He then flung the imaginary object across the room.

Heath stood and wondered why the cell seemed so small tonight. The walls were closing in. He paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair.

Nick struggled to his feet and limped to the table. He drained a cup of water and poured two more. He watched Heath's harrow and called to his delirious brother.

"Heath, come on over here."

Heath walked over to where Spence was sitting. He saw the cup offered and shook his head. He screwed his face up as Spence downed the putrid, stagnant fluid.

"Drink it." Spence commanded

Heath took a mouthful of the vile beverage and immediately gagged. He staggered to the door and was shocked when it opened. He dropped to his knees and vomited. He looked both ways, and saw them laughing, as they always did. He came back into the cell and crawled into the corner. The tortured calls started, he heard them pleading. He covered his ears, but the sounds of the screaming down the hall continued.

IT wasn't often Nick Barkley felt helpless. But this was one of those rare occasions. Daybreak was still a few hours away. Until then, they were trapped here. His brother was lost in a world were Nick's authority was unknown. He watched helplessly as Heath grabbed his ears and heard the mumbling, disoriented pleas for help. He staggered over and dropped painfully down next to the vanished soul. He wrapped his arms around Heath and tried to find him.

"It's okay, Heath. I'm right here. We'll get help soon. Take it easy."

Heath clung to Spence and somehow the deep voice eased his pain. The screaming ceased. He laid his head on Spence's strong shoulder and closed his weary eyes. He couldn't understand what the words were, it didn't matter. Spence would take care of him.

Nick continued to reassure his fever-logged brother even after Heath's eyes closed on his shoulder. He didn't have to lay a hand to him; he could feel the heat of the fever radiating through his brother's torn shirt. He thoughts went to the pending day and how they would get help. Heath suddenly sat up and addressed his brother angrily. "I gotta get outta here Spence. I'm breaking outta this stinkin' prison. I can't leave you behind."

Nick realized sometime during the night they left Colorado and were now in Carterson prison. He brain raced to find a way to stall his fugitive bound brother. He watched Heath pacing and breathing heavily. Twice he stuck his head out the door and returned discouraged.

"There's too many of them. We gotta wait until they change shifts."

Heath pulled Spence up and set him back on the chair. He sat on the edge of the table and heard Spence talking.

"Heath, you get some sleep. I'll watch for the guards. Go on, you've got a fever, you need to rest."

He was tired. His head was pounding and his back screamed. He looked over at the bugs and mice that traveled over the mat. He thought of Strawberry. How he longed to go home. He looked at the concerned eyes of his young friend. Spence was lucky; he had brothers and sisters. A fine home waiting for him in New York.

"You sure are lucky Spence, having so many brothers and sisters. Must be nice. Always wanted some brothers."

Nick swallowed hard and chose his words carefully. Remembering that this was a 16-year old boy beside him, lost and homesick. He cursed the whole situation silently.

"Uh...you know Heath, someday I'm sure you'll find that family. They'll be proud to have you, I now I would."

Heath smiled at his good friend. They had been through a lot together. He stood and walked to the mat, pausing long enough to squeeze Spence's shoulder.

"I'd sure like to have a brother like you, Spence. I don't think I'll ever get that lucky."

Nick swallowed hard and listened for several minutes until Heath's breathing was regular and steady. He turned and watched his sleeping brother and thought on how chance and fate dictated the hand you were dealt in life. Heath had fought harder than most and seen his share of tragedy. Nick would see to it that this valiant young man would now celebrate triumph.

The sheriff strode through the open door and stopped at the sight of the upright corpse. John walked over to the bed and stared at the ropes. He saw his father's cane tracing the blood stained footboard.

"Bullets was too good for him."

"Come on Pa, Heath's isn't here, that means he got away. Maybe Nick found him."

The trio stood in the snow that had been steadily falling. Max and two of the hands were waiting up the road with a wagon. John saw to it that blankets and medical supplies were loaded. He scanned the horizon thinking on which direction to take. Blackjack's voice answered his thought.

"There, right there, smoke."

They followed the road and spotted the tiny cabin. They made their way slowly down the grade and approached the door. Blackjack's booming voice called to his grandsons.

Heath sat up with a start and jumped to his feet. He swayed and staggered, grabbing the table for support as the room whirled around. Spence's strong arm was there, once more, to steady him. He stood in front of his injured friend and heard the guards call again.

Nick thought at that moment in time, Blackjack's voice was about the sweetest sound he ever heard. He was about to reply when Heath's anguished voice took over.

"You left me sleep too long. We missed our chance. They're comin' for us. I won't taste that lash again, Spence."

"Heath, that's not guards. Listen to me, we're safe, now. That's..."

With that the door opened and the two Barkley's and the sheriff strode in. Nick stood behind Heath and uttered his thanks to God aloud.

"Nick, Heath, Thank God you're alive." John said.

His handsome face split into a grin. But it was short lived when he saw Heath's tortured blue stare set in the inflamed face and heard Nick's pleading voice. The smile disappeared and the three rescuers stood frozen, the snow swirling around them. They watched in horror as Heath's arm came up and the pistol cocked, aimed directly at them.

Heath threw his left arm protectively in front of Spence. He wasn't taking any chances, if it meant taking out a guard, he'd do it. He took aim and gave loud, defiant orders.

"You back away. You can't have him. I won't let you animals hurt him anymore. Nobody's gonna lay a hand on him again."

Nick heart was breaking and his face showed it. He looked at the back of the sweat-soaked head and felt the tug of something strong take hold in his gut. He put his hands up behind Heath's back, letting the men know he would disarm Heath.

"Heath, it's Nick. You're not in Carterson, you're in Colorado. That's Blackjack and Uncle John. We going home, Heath. Come on, now, put that gun down."

Heath spun and turned to face Spence. How could he turn on him? What had they promised him?

Nick saw the look of torment on Heath's face. He watched as Heath's free hand swept down his face and tried to stem the pain. Nick took a step forward and saw his worried uncle shake his head.

"It's okay, he won't shoot me." Nick reasoned.

Heath looked up at Spence, not hiding his deep hurt. His agonized voice cut Nick deeper than any bullet of knife ever could.

"How could you betray me? You're my best friend. We promised to stick together. How could you turn on me?"

Nick forced back the lump in this throat and took the gun from the trembling hands. Heath sank to his knees and Nick went with him, not caring about the pain shooting up to his hip. He grabbed the troubled body and hugged him close. His hands held the fevered neck in place against the strong shoulder. He heard the sob and tried to bring his lost brother back.

"It's Nick. You hear me boy?, you're safe. I won't ever let anybody hurt you again. You got my word."

He grabbed the flushed face tightly with both hands and looked into the muddled pale eyes. He searched them long and hard. Finally a flicker appeared. Heath's panting slowed and he blinked several times. Nick saw his brother's trembling hand come up and hesitantly touch his face.

"Nick?" Heath wondered his eyes hopeful. "Yeah, brother, it's me." Nick's broad grin brought his brother close.

John felt Blackjack's arm on his shoulder. The two exchanged a relieved glance. Blackjack started to say something, but realized it wasn't necessary. The bond created on the floor in the snow of the tiny cabin said more than any words could.

Victoria kissed Nick's forehead and she left the seat near his bed. She had been with him since their arrival several hours before. John filled them in on the harrowing details of the brother's experience. Nick's leg was infected and the fever was receding. He'd slept most of the two days since their rescue.

She and Jarrod left Stockton after John's wire came. She didn't realize how exhausted she was until she started down the hall to her niece Cat's room. Cat was staying with Meg down the road, looking after her distraught sister and active nephews. Just as she passed Heath's door, she heard the frantic mumbling. Entering the dark room, she lit the bedside lamp and saw the young man thrashing. A sheen of sweat covered his face and upper body. His knuckles clutched the sheet and she laid a restraining hand on him. His fretful voice called out.

"Nick...Nick...gotta get help..."

"Heath, you're dreaming. It's all right, Nick is fine."

He pulled the hand away and turned towards the wall. He shuddered loudly then fell into a more calming sleep. Her hand remained frozen in place as her eyes took in the awful marks on his back. She knew the Scott's stepfather had taken Heath, but her in-laws left out the horrid details.

Somehow, the older scars affected her more. She watched him sleep, taking in the fine features on his face. She saw the pitcher and cloth nearby, that Kate used. She soaked the cloth and wiped down the heated face and upper body. He turned and mumbled in his sleep. She pulled the sheet up and waited until she thought he was sound. As she turned to leave, her gaze caught a photo on his bedside.

One trembling hand picked up the oval frame; the other tried to steady her heart, which was now in her throat. There, sitting on what had to be Leah Thomson's lap, was her lost son, John. This child was only a few months older than her beautiful boy was when he was taken from them. She drank in the tiny features of the fair-haired baby in the photo. The chubby, rosy cheeks, brilliant blue eyes, sun-kissed hair and angelic smile. It was him, out and out. God took her heart away and gave a miracle to a woman alone.

She stole a glance at the slumbering young man next to her. She didn't brush back the tears that were pooling in her eyes. She touched him gently, her tiny hand copying the features in the photo. He moved his face so that her hand cupped it. Her eyes took to the stars out the window. Heath's words came back to her; words spoken by a lost boy in her garden so many months ago. Her golden child, a gift from God; those words now rang true. She tasted the salty tears as she spoke, eyes raised to the most brilliant star.

"I'll take care of him now Leah. This special gift of ours; a golden miracle child. He'll be loved as he deserves and he'll shine."

She felt his lips moving against her palm. She ran her hand through the damp, blond hair and down the flushed cheek. He started to move restlessly again. Seeking out somewhere so near.

"Mama...it's so hot. I'm so thirsty."

She poured the water and held it carefully as she lifted his head. After he finished and settled back down, she pulled the sheet and quilt up under his chin. She traced circles through the cloth on his chest. He immediately relaxed. She smiled thinking of how all her children found that comforting.

He never opened his eyes and he drank the cool water. He didn't have to. He knew that delicate touch anywhere. His mother was near. He could rest now.

She sat for a while and watched him sleep. She thought of Kate's words. How this tough, fearless young man was a gentle spirit. How easy he was to love. Somehow, she knew Kate's words rang true. Her lost son had come home at last. She rose and kissed his cheek.

"Good night son."

The deep laughter from the kitchen caused her to smile. She went into the kitchen and poured two cups of coffee. Her arrival caused a halt to the merriment. Victoria didn't know what secrets her three sons' were sharing. Undoubtedly, something male and raucous by the blush on Heath's face. Something else about him she found endearing. She walked over to the large window where Blackjack watched the snow falling. Her eyes took in the majesty of the Rockies. He nodded at the coffee and took a deep sip.

"You're quiet tonight." She said taking his arm.

"I'm listening to the echo." He replied, taking the small hand.

"Echo?" She puzzled.

"The echo on the horizon. Tom's voice. Clear as if he was standing right here. Everytime I see them together."

His emotion-logged voice matched the heartfelt gaze. She watched as his weathered hand pointed to her sons in the kitchen. Nick was embellishing and Jarrod's cross-examination had Heath in stitches. She got a tingle as Tom's laughter wafted through the room. She watched as her father-in-law's eyes followed Heath across the kitchen. There was no denying the love than shone there.

"You'll miss him." She said hugging the older man

"More than he'll ever know." The old man choked.

"He found himself out here. You, John, Scott, all of you, helped him fill that awful void. I don't know how to thank you, you brought my son back to me."

Blackjack turned to see the tears on her cheeks and realized that Heath was safe. Victoria took the boy into her heart, as he knew she would.

"A part of me wanted to hold onto him, but I knew his destiny was beyond them mountains. He had to find the road himself, nobody could show him. He belongs with Nick, standing shoulder to shoulder on the land Tom gave his blood for. That's his fate. There's something special about that boy, Victoria."

"I have a feeling I'm just beginning to find out just how special he is" she replied.

Scott didn't seem to hear. His anxious pacing was only matched by his frequent looks up the staircase of his home. Meg's cries paled the bruise face. He ran his good hand through the shoulder length dark hair.

"Man, you have been through this twice already, calm down." Nick said as he grabbed the worried man from his perch on the couch.

"It never gets any easier. Besides, she'a week early." Scott worried.

"She's strong, son. She'll pull this just fine." John's strong hand found the wrought shoulder.

Scott relaxed for a moment and looked around the faces of this family. Heath, Jarrod and Nick all fine men, good friends. His mentors John and Blackjack. He was lucky to be a part of such a family. His panting was due to his emotive mood. Heath walked over, worried that it was the broken ribs.

"Come on now. Won't due her any good if you have a relapse. Sit down."

How he would miss this man, who in such a short time, had come to mean so much. He felt the strong arms guide him and was about to sit when a scream pierced the air. He was at the bottom of the stairs when the unmistakable sound of a newborn's cry greeted them. A loud cheer rose in the room. He saw Victoria beckoning him.

It was several anxious minutes later when Victoria came downstairs. Kate followed carrying a swaddled pink infant. She unwrapped the baby to let the family meet the newest Barkley. She handed the baby to a startled Heath, who was sitting next to Nick on the sofa.

"It's too little. I don't if I can..."

"Just support her head, you're doing fine."

"Her?" Heath asked.

"She's beautiful" Jarrod marveled.

"Well, what did you expect, she's a Barkley ain't she." Nick boasted enjoying the look of wonderment on his younger brother's face.

"You sure are a pretty little thing." Heath said softly laying a tender stroke to the soft cheek.

He took in the creamy skin and pink cheeks, accented by black hair. The blue eyes looked up at him wearing a tiny scowl followed by a loud wail.

"She's a Barkley all right, she sounds just like Nick." Heath teased as the tiny fist waved at him indignantly.

"Good for her." Nick bragged.

Scott's voice followed his slow footsteps across the room. He stood and placed a hand on Heath's shoulder and smiled at his mother-in-law's wink to the family.

"Guess it's about time you met everybody, sweetheart. These fine people are our family. All you need to learn about love, you'll find here."

"Well, how about introducing us property, Scott. We don't this young lady's name" Jarrod quizzed.

"It's my honor to introduce for the first time." Scott choked "Caitlin Heather Brogan."

Heath's head shot up in shock as Scott continued to the clapping and cheering.

"Caitlin, keeping in the family tradition and Heather, for her godfather and somebody I'm proud to call a friend and..." he hesitated "brother."

Heath's blush matched the crimson flailing infant. He felt Scott squeeze his shoulder and looked up to the warm dark eyes.

"Be a real honor." He managed.

"Well young lady, it's time you went back to your mother." Kate took the infant and Scott followed her upstairs.

Blackjack came across the room with a large, aged bottle of Scotch. It had welcomed in every new Barley from Tom's birth. He poured shots all around, and for Kate who now joined them. John was about to offer a toast to his first granddaughter, when Heath's quietly stood. He raised his eyes to the floor where Scott and Meg basked in the glow of the miracle. Then waited until his quiet voice finished.

"Sunshine baby, little lady A gift of nine months past With cheeks so fair and wavy hair And a smile you call your own We'll gladly boast and proudly toast For you've made a house, a home."

"Well done." Jarrod clapped his brother's back

The last good-byes had been made and most of the Stockton Barkley's were in the wagon, wrapped up and ready to hit the road. John and Jarrod sat up front. Jarrod grimaced playfully as the familiar sound of Nick's bellow filled the air.

"What the devil is he doing in there? It's cold our here."

"He's having a hard time saying goodbye. I think even you can understand that Nick" Jarrod chastised.

"Yeah, I guess. But I'm still freezing. LET'S GO HEATH." He hollered.

"Sure am gonna miss you all. You take little girl, till I see you in the spring. I'm countin' on you to be my good luck in the Rodeo. " He kissed the silky hair as well as the cheek of her mother.

He reluctantly returned the sleeping infant to her mother.

"Goodbye, Meg. Thanks for everything. You don't know how proud I am, about her carrying my name." He shuffled his feet and played with the rim on his hat.

"Yes, I think I do." She said kissing his cheek

He looked down as a tug and a tiny voice called to him.

"Heef" the blond toddler dribbled with his chubby arms up.

Heath picked him up and gave him a bearhug, causing giggles.

"Hey, what's the idea. After Mama, his first words supposed to be Papa not "Heef." Scott joked taking the squirming toddler.

Heath grinned and dropped to a squat beckoning for Sean. Scott's miniature stood back and shyly shook his head.

"Come on partner, I'm gonna need a big old hug to keep me for the next six months till you visit me in California."

Sean shook his head and ran to Blackjack instead. Scott saw Heath's face fall slightly. He nodded with his head behind Heath's back motioned to the boy as Blackjack whispered in the ear. He stood uncertain and then threw himself into relieved man's arms.

"Please don't go." his little chin quivered.

"Hey now, no tears. I'm gonna see you real soon. You gotta be brave for Matt and Caitlin. You're the oldest and I'm counting on you to help out and do a good job. Deal?"

"Deal." He said with a solemn handshake.

Heath ruffled the dark hair and walked to the door. Scott and Blackjack walked outside with him. Scott embraced his friend and wanted to say how much he meant to him and how he'd miss him. But couldn't get the words out. Heath saw it in the dark eyes and nodded appreciatively.

"I know Scott, I know."

Then he turned to Blackjack. He shook his hand and the old man clapped his back.

"Sure gonna miss that sorry face of yours. Won't have anybody to fuss after."

"Yeah, I'll think of you everytime Nick hollers at me. Be like you there too."

"I heard that." Nick teased

Heath walked to the wagon and stopped. Jarrod and Victoria could see his eyes shimmering. He turned and retraced his steps, embracing the old man. No words were spoken at first. Blackjack's tears ran down Heath's back as his blue-veined hand ruffled the pale hair.

Finally Heath broke away.

"Heath, you take care. I..."

"Yes sir, I love you too, grandfather."

He gripped the arm firmly and turned without looking back. He climbed in and took his place, next to Nick.

"Let's go home." He said as Nick patted his knee.

"Jarrod, why don't you go check on your mail to see if that letter arrived." Victoria said with a discreet nod.

Jarrod was about to argue when he caught on. He winked at Nick and slapped the blond man on the back

"Uh, Heath, old boy, looks like you've been elected porter."

"Some things never change." He smiled as they departed.

They turned momentarily as Heath stood alone waiting for the bags. They all saw the figure approach him from behind. They resumed their trip, leaving the reunion private.

"Sure is good to see you boy. Old Red sure did miss you."

Heath's grin was about the best thing Red had ever seen. He looked closed and saw a lot more. Confidence in his stance, purpose in the blue eyes and most important, he saw Tom's son home where he belonged.

Heath embraced the old man and felt the ache in his chest. He pulled back to look at his old friend.

"Boy Howdy Red, looks like you've been eating my share of the chow too." Heath joked.

"Don't you "boy howdy" me. Next time you decide to run away from home, it damn well better be when I'm long gone."

"There ain't gonna be a next time. I'm home Red."

"And not a minute too soon. Been waiting for you to stand with Nick. Lord help us can that boy holler. He just about busted my eardrums. You got no idea how much we've missed you."

"That would be a bet you'd lose. I missed you Red. I didn't realize how much until we passed the boundaries of the ranch on the train." Heath said and then started to laugh

"What's so funny?"

"Don't tell him, but I really missed Nick's fussin'."

They stacked the bags and waited for the family to return. Red listened to the soft drawl he longed to hear for two months. Heath talked about some of the things he'd learned. Red smiled at how often Heath mentioned Blackjack. They turned as the trio reappeared. Heath looked annoyed at Nick and directed a comment that way.

"'bout time you came back. What took you so long?"

"Long? I just happen to be in this condition cause you couldn't move fast enough."

"If you say so Nick." He grinned helping Nick onto the wagon.

"What's that supposed to mean? You just wait until we get out on the Ridge tomorrow, we'll see how fast you move."

"What do mean "we"? I ain't working with that bum leg of yours. I got two weeks all to myself. You're stayin' put. Plenty of paperwork you can do at home, without me worrying about you fallin' off a horse."

"Oh Really? We'll just see about that." Nick chastised and turned to his grinning older brother. "How do like the nerve of him? Hasn't even set a foot on the ranch and he's running the place."

Victoria took Red's arm as he nodded his approval

"Sure looks good from here, Victoria. I wish Tom ..."

"I think he can see them Red. Sometimes I feel him close by. Let's go home."

"HEATH. Get a move on. That train won't wait."

"I'm comin' Nick."

He grabbed his bag and stopped at the chest of drawers by his door. At his bedside were the pictures of Leah and Tom with Blackjack. . On the chest was a picture of the Barkley family in Denver, taken before they left. The other picture was of Nick seated with Jarrod and Heath flanking him. He thought of the importance of the date and the day at hand.

Nick was pacing restlessly, spinning his hat on his hands while Heath slowly ambled down the stairs. Victoria kissed him on the cheek and Nick rolled his eyes and exasperated.

"Boy you move slower than molasses in July. Come on, let's get going."

The train pulled away and Nick waited until it was clean out of sight. He jumped slightly at the boisterous voice.

"What took you so long. I ain't gettin' any younger. Been waitin' on you the better part of an hour."

"Well now, some of us DO work for a living. Something you wouldn't know much about."

"Work? You're preachin' to the choir Barkley. Let me see them hands"

Nick grinned from ear to ear as the old man felt his hands and looked at the calluses.

"Well, I guess you pass." He smiled at his bold grandson and embraced him "Sure is good to see you son. You look good."

"Good to see you too sir. How are you?"

"Can't complain' How's you mother?"

"Cleaning, cooking and causin' all kinds of fuss."

"Think he suspects anything?" John asked as he shook Nick's hand.

"Nah, Jarrod's gonna keep him busy tonight. They'll be home around noon, just in time for his surprise party."

Nick greeted his aunt and cousin Meg who was holding one beautiful dark haired baby with eyes like the summer sky. John carried a sleeping Matt on his shoulder. Nick turned as she scolded him

"Well, don't I get a warm welcome. Come all this way to see you in a Rodeo and that's the thanks I get." Cat scowled.

Even Cat grinned at the look of amazement on her cousin's face. The transformation was surprising. Before him stood a beautiful young woman. Her wavy auburn hair was pulled back, her green dress made her eyes stand out. She was breathtaking.

"I didn't... I mean you look so different, Cat."

"Different? With complements like that I can see why you're still single."

They all laughed and Nick saw Scott approaching.

"Speaking of looking different, look at you. How's the arm?" Nick asked

"All healed and ready to hoist a few. Did you bring you wallet, Nick?" Scott teased as he slapped the dark cowboy.

Heath walked into Jarrod's office and the secretary looked perplexed.

"I'm here to see my brother."

"I'm sorry, he has an appointment this afternoon. He's not expecting you until 7 or so."

"I'm sure he'll see me." Heath smiled and walked into Jarrod's office.

Jarrod looked up semi-surprised and assured his secretary everything was all right and dismissed her.

"Heath, you're a little early. I have a new client coming in shortly. Why don't you wait at the house, I'll meet you there later."

Heath sat down, placing a bag carefully on the floor and extended his hand.

"Allow me to introduce myself, Mr. Barkley, I'm Mr. Martin."

Jarrod stood and walked around the cherrywood desk. He leaned an arm on the file cabinet and peered at his "new client' through a haze of cigar smoke.

"What are you up to? Why do I get the feeling that look in your eye spells trouble."

"Me?" Heath mocked innocence.

"Your reputation proceeds you sir." Jarrod teased, knowing of Heath's pratical jokes.

"Let's go, we got no time to waste."

"Where are we going?" Jarrod asked.

Heath just smiled and led his puzzled brother outside. He hailed a cab and they rode to the dock. Heath pulled two tickets out of his pocket and they boarded a schooner. The cruise around the bay led southward. The fog had lifted revealing the blue sky and a few puffy clouds. The gulls cried out a greeting and were answered by the seals.

Jarrod sat on a deck chair and watched San Francisco disappear. His curiosity was more than piqued. Heath returned and sat next to his perplexed brother.

"Well counselor, figured it out yet?" "No. Heath just what is going on? Where am I being kidnapped to?"

"All will be revealed in good time. Just sit back and enjoy the view."

As they approached the beautiful bay outside Carmel, Jarrod was enjoying himself. He and his brother had enjoyed a great conversation on many things from truth and justice to the upcoming Rodeo. Heath led Jarrod on a short walk to a restaurant on the water. The sun wouldn't set for another hour yet. The sky was painted in rich, vibrant hues of pinks, blues and violets.

They both turned as the maitre'de approached.

"Mr. Barkley?"

"Yes" Jarrod rose and then watch the tuxedoed man look right past him to Heath.

"I believe he's talkin' to me big brother." Heath grinned.

"Right his way, sir, your table is ready." His arm gracefully extended from Heath forward.

Jarrod smiled at the whole thing, and was especially pleased at how his brother beamed at the respect in the maitre'de's voice. They were seated at a waterside table. The view was stunning. Jarrod saw the wine steward approach and watch Heath read the list and carefully make a suggestion.

In the six months since his return, Heath had taken a very methodical way of learning the business of the ranch. Spending quality time on each diverse area until he felt comfortable with it. He remembered walking in the winery one day to find Heath taking notes and Nick's patience wearing thin. Nick didn't understand Heath's attention to detail. Jarrod did, that's the same way he thought. Something inherited from their father.

They ordered crab bisque, followed by steak and lobster. Heath tested the wine and nodded his approval. After the waiter left, Jarrod's patience stood no longer.

"I must say, Heath, this is one of the most pleasant journeys I've ever undertaken. I must know, what is the ruse?"

Heath raised his glass and Jarrod clinked it with his own. His eyes widen in surprise and as his brother spoke, his insides warmed by much more than the fine wine. He felt the strong emotions that tied him to this man, emerge.

"This is a story about a boy who one year ago was a lost soul. Alone in the world, losing his mother and desolate. Then along came someone, who out of compassion, humanity and pure decency reached out to this lonely young man sitting in the basement of a hospital, with the weight of the world on his mind. It was that man's strong voice and guiding hands that the boy found someone so much more than a friend. This boy, he figures that this man, who is so very special, saved his life. So I'm offering a toast"

He raised his glass and clinked it across the table before continuing.

"Thank you brother." He ended strong and simple.

Jarrod didn't taste the wine. He sat stunned for a moment and then smiled at Heath. His vivid blue eyes were full, as he looked hard at the boy in the story. Someone, who once was full of doubt, now stood confident and self-assured. He was proud of his youngest brother; one who'd had grown so much in this last year.

"So the story has a happy ending?" Jarrod spoke slowly

"The best kind." Heath beamed "'course is was hard findin' a place that you hadn't been to. Seems you've wined and dined clients every place in San Francisco."

Jarrod watched the lamps being lit as the sun melted into the sea, sending ribbons of gold through the water. It was spectacular. He would definitely remember this night.

"How on earth did you find this place, Heath, it's spectacular."

"You ain't the only one who has high falutin' friends. You use my name here anytime you need to, big brother." Heath's eyes twinkled and Jarrod laughed heartily.

Heath went on to explain that the restaurant came highly recommended from the priest at the Mission in Santa Barbara. He'd spent several years in the Monterey/Carmel area.

The dinner was superb. Jarrod found Heath had excellent and insightful comments on just about any subject. He sensed something magical about the air and would be sorry to see the night end. As they enjoyed brandy after dinner, Heath pulled the mysterious bag out and handed it to Jarrod.

"Heath, dinner was enough. This isn't necessary.'

"I think it is. Jarrod, I could never repay you for what you have done for me. Long before you knew I was your brother, you gave me an open hand. I'll never find a better friend. You'll never know how much those weeks that started one year ago today, meant to me. I truly believe you saved my life. No gift would be to great. You always had faith in me, you never once doubted me. Well, anyhow, thanks."

"Heath, you had that faith all your life. You would have never survived without it. You've given just as much back. I'd say I was the lucky one."

Jarrod opened the bag and took out a document encased in a glass frame. His eyes scanned the letter and he sat dumbfounded. Twice he looked over to Heath, his heart full. He couldn't get the words out. Finally, they came.

"Heath, I don't know what to say. This is maybe the finest gift I've ever received. I'll treasure it always."

He looked down and traced the fine script of Thomas Jefferson through the glass. It was letter to John Adams. In it Jefferson wrote of the importance of virtues. How honor, chivalry and integrity were essential for the new government. If the spirit of the revolution; the bravery and courage of the men who died were to remain, than the truth should always prevail.

"I was looking for a long time, trying to find the right way to say thanks. Something special. I saw that in Denver. The words on it, well, they reminded me of you. It's how I think of you. I'm glad you like it."

"Like it? Heath I..." Jarrod stopped, too overcome to continue.

"Now you know how I feel, brother." Heath said quietly as the sun set.

"Come in the parlor Heath, have a drink with me."

"No, I gotta pass. Nick's gonna be madder than a hornet if I'm late. He's been out there in the sun all morning. He'll be ready to bust by the time I get there."

"You aimin' to leave without sayin' hello boy?"

Heath whirled and found himself staring at Blackjack.

"Let's get to it son, I ain't gettin' any younger."

"How did you...When...Hello, Sir, It's great to see you." He stuttered as Blackjack slapped him on the back.

"Hell boy, is that the best you can do? I've been waiting six months."

He led the started young man into the parlor as the "Surprise" rang out followed by cheers and clapping. He stood there transfixed and the familiar blush started. Kate was closest and kissed the belated birthday boy. He looked down to find each leg clutched by a small boy. He ruffled the small heads and seemed unable to move.

"Oh how I missed that wonderful blush. Happy Birthday Heath." His Aunt welcomed.

"Madder than a hornet huh?" Nick playfully punched the blue chambray shoulder and handed Heath a drink.

Victoria guided him to a chair. He spotted Meg on the couch holding Caitlin. She handed the pretty infant to her godfather. He was so busy admiring the beautiful baby, he didn't spot her but he winced at the familiar voice.

"I might as well have worn chaps and workshirt for all that you and Nick took notice."

"Cat?" Heath amazed.

Red, John and Blackjack talked about the old days. Heath opened his gifts and suffered through all the razzing from his family. There was one gift left. He saw Blackjack at his shoulder as he opened it. It was a heavy dagger about 10 inches long with a gold hilt encrusted with an amethyst. The room was suddenly silent as Heath held it up. He looked up at his grandfather with the eyes of a boy, wide with wonderment.

"It belonged to Angus Barkley. It's been handed down over the generations to the youngest Barkley male each generation. You keep that and pass it on. You got in you a lot of the things it stands for." Blackjack said proudly.

Heath fingered the fine instrument and replaced it gently in the velvet-lined box. He stood and embraced Blackjack, unable to say a word. He nodded to everyone and took a step out the French doors.

He didn't realize how very deeply he felt for this family. He stood there a while and knew who stood behind him. He saw the white envelope offered and took it. He didn't fight the tears as he had inside; he let a few slip out. Replacing the letter with shaking hands, reading the words over in his mind.

"I tried to get you something fittin'. But nothing in the store suited me. Then I sat down one night and just plain wrote out how I felt. Old Red sure feels God blessed him the day you rode in here. IT was like you were the son I'd always wanted. You sure do make me bust my buttons boy."

"Here I thought I was the lucky one finding you here. Thanks Red, for everything." He nodded and hugged him, then smiled at the change of voice.

"That cake ain't gonna wait forever. I been keepin' an eye on it. Old Red sure does love buttercream icing. Get yourself together, I'm hungry."

Later that evening , Scott joined the brothers outside the bunkhouse for some poker. The talk of the upcoming Rodeo started. Several hands were arguing on which Barkley to bet on.

"There is no contest. I intend to beat this boy soundly." Nick boasted.

"Sorry brother, but you'll be in for a long night." Heath confidently predicted.

They both laughed when Scott's voice found it's way across the table.

"Guess I'll be doubly blessed, having to take your money and your dignity."

"Josh, you in? Josh, it's a dollar raise, you in or not?" Nick demanded

Josh's handsome face stared wide-eyed at the vision across from him. They all three looked as Cat appeared. She too seemed transfixed. Nick took the starstruck cowboy's cards.

"Josh, how 'bout closin your mouth, you're drooling on the cards." Scott joked.

"Huh?" Josh mumbled.

"Cat, this is Josh Walton" Nick said pulling the tawny cowboy to his feet.

"Josh, this is my cousin Catriona, you can call her Miss Barkley. And remember, you gotta answer to all of us. You understand." Nick drilled

"Yes sir, I got it sir. I'll be a perfect gentleman. Miss Barkley, would you like to take a walk."

Cat smacked Nick hard in the shoulder causing him to yelp.

"Miss Barkley, indeed, like I'm a sixty year old spinster. Josh, you can call me Cat."

The three laughed at Nick rubbing his arm.

"Wait till word get around than you been beat up by a girl." Heath scoffed.

"You just try it brother and you'll be missin' that rodeo."

As the weeks went on, it became apparent that the lovely Cat and the handsome cowboy were becoming an item. Cat decided to extend her visit, staying for the summer. Something told Kate and John that they would be gaining a new son-in-law at The Highlands.

Red rocked on the porch, enjoying the breeze rolling over the river he watched. The rope swing on the tree blew in the breeze. He didn't hear the footsteps approach. He looked over at the tousled blond hair and troubled blue eyes.

"You missin' your brothers at the party up at the house?"

"Yeah."

"You'd be up there too if you weren't so hard headed. Never met a body so stubborn. Did you take your medicine."

The defiant blue eyes gave him his answer. Shaking his head, he entered the house and came out again with a bottle and spoon.

"Get on over here."

Five years old John Garrett Barkley stood uncertain. He saw the rocker and the wave of the aged hand. He sneezed several times and coughed. That only set the old man off more.

"I ain't got all day boy, let's get goin'. Come on; get them feet movin'"

He waited until the reluctant child settled on his lap. He looked at the face, so like his father with a stubborn streak to match. He watched the features screw up as the medicine went down.

"It ain't poison. Here drink the water down, it'll help."

"Tell me about when you first met Pa" the child hiccuped.

Red wrapped the tattered lightweight blanket the boy carried around his body. He knew his time was limited, the medicine would be working soon. He was halfway through the rodeo story when the blue eyes went half-mast. The tiny hand crept up his chest, hiding inside his vest. The sleepy voice followed it.

"I love you." He said as his small blue eyes closed.

Red hugged the boy close and rocked steadily, stroking the small back.

"I know it boy, and your Grandpa Red sure does love you.