He walked past the green velvet couch where Audra slept, pulling a quilt up over her exhausted form. His pained gaze fell upon the bruises on her face. He needed something to take away the bitter taste they left. He walked over to the table beyond, where a series of decanters beckoned. Eyeing the bottles of different shapes and strengths, he made a choice. Pouring a glassful of courage, he checked the clock again, every agonizing minute weighing heavily on him.

Footsteps on the stairs rudely interrupted the path of the glass to his lips. Placing the glass on the windowsill, he made his way to the edge of the room and turned, facing the strange staircase. His anguished eyes followed the crimson splattered apron as it grew nearer. He swallowed hard and grimaced at the large amount of bloody water in the basin she carried. His mouth opened, but she answered his anxious eyes before the words could form.

"He's holding his own for now, but it will be some time yet before the surgery's completed."

He nodded gratefully at the statement and listened as her steps made their way through the kitchen. He jumped slightly as the back door slammed. He retraced his path to the window and lifted the glass. The burning fluid nearly choked him as he watched his brother's blood mingle with the small current and race by his throbbing eyes.

How had it come to this? All these weeks, over six now, since that night when everything changed. Raising his eyes to the ceiling above where the doctor worked feverishly, he thought of that night and all the weeks that led up to this awful climax this morning. That night his world changed...when he found out about his father..and all the bitter days that had led up to this fateful morning. He closed his eyes and rubbed the pounding tension between his temples. He let his mind wander back to that first night, and through the tumultuous weeks that followed; and all that should have and could have been done a little differently. Swirling thoughts of how he might have approached things in a more mature manner invaded his brain. He let his troubled mind wander back in time...back to that first night and the stormy weeks that followed.

Two forks simultaneously pierced the succulent steak as two pairs of choleric eyes each pierced deep into the soul of the other adversary. The family looked on in awkward silence as the tension escalated, hostility permeating the dining area's four walls. Picking up his knife, Jarrod slowly sliced his way through the symbolic barrier. Testosterone levels had peaked, but seemed to slacken as one large slab of meat was divided into two equal portions.

The dark cloud seemed to lift and breakfast continued in peace, but Victoria was wary. Experience had taught her that a lull usually preceded the worst of storms. Before her sat two half-brothers...both sons of her late husband and heirs to the Barkley fortune. Until a couple of days ago they had been strangers. She watched as each man silently devoured the meal before him, knowing that somehow the two would need to come to terms. Deep inside she was certain that their differences would be worked out, but for now, all she could do was hope and pray.

Heath chewed each tender bite of beef in uncomfortable solitude. Even though his father's family was physically present, he had never felt so alone. An outsider, educated in the brutal school of hard knocks, his knowledge of how to behave in sophisticated company such as this was limited. He pulled his napkin out of his shirt collar and after wiping his mouth, excused himself from the table.

"Where do ya think you're goin', Boy?" Nick demanded, gruffly. "You and I still have to go out to the bunkhouse so you can be introduced to the men."

"I was up and out of here before sunrise and didn't have time to shave," Heath retorted coolly. "I'm gonna go get cleaned up...see you out back."

The two exchanged hard glances until Nick took the higher ground by backing down.

"Be out back in twenty minutes," Nick managed, pouring himself another cup of coffee.

Heath rose and nodded to Mrs. Barkley and Audra and stopped to let Silas retrieve an empty platter. Heath tapped his shoulder and Silas looked up skeptically.

"Sir? " the black man questioned

"Reckon I been a lot things, Silas, but 'Sir' ain't one them," he smiled disarming the unsure servant. "Them hotcakes," he nodded at the empty platter, "were real good. Best I've had since I left home. Sure makes me miss Hannah's grits and redeye gravy. Thanks."

"My pleasure, Si...Mr. Heath. If you like, I can fix you ham, grits and redeye gravy tomorrow morning."

Victoria was the only one who could see the broad smile Heath left unguarded before realizing every eye in the room was on his back. He shifted nervously and tried to slip by the elderly man.

"Don't go to no fuss on my account, Silas. Whatever you make will be fine."

"It's no trouble. It would be my pleasure," he smiled at the red-faced young man heading up the back stairs.

Heath turned and retreated up to the privacy of his own room. Maybe coming here hadn't been such a smart idea after all. He pulled out his razor and filled the china basin on his dresser with water from the pitcher. Lathering up, he made smooth, even strokes, being careful not to notch his dimpled chin. Wiping his face clean, he paused for a moment and began to replay the events of the day before.

He hadn't planned on participating in the gun battle between the local farmers and the railroad. After being thrown off his father's estate, all he wanted was the few hundred dollars that had been offered and he would ride off, never to show his face in the valley again. It was Mrs. Barkley that had caused him to revamp his plans. While the brothers had been hostile and blind to the fact that their father had been anything less than a saint, she had opened the door of acceptance to him. If anyone had a right to be angry, it would be his widow, but her words of encouragement had challenged him. He had stayed up the rest of the night, mentally chewing and rehashing the brief conversation they had had in the foyer of the house. It was apparent that she was willing to give him a chance.

The fight at Sample's farm had been brief but effective. The railroad's hired guns had retreated, leaving the local landowners with a caustic victory. A cigar, a pat on the back, a few kind words...all had been added reinforcement to what had already been said. After riding back to the hotel in town to gather his few personal belongings, Heath had swallowed back his pride and given in to the deep longings tugging at his own heart.

His entrance into the family and the home that night would have gone smoothly if it hadn't been for one person. Nick, whom he had locked horns with during their initial encounter, was less than eager to welcome in another brother. His argument had been hot and angry as he unleashed a string of vile obscenities directed towards Heath and the woman who bore him. If it hadn't been for the other three taking Heath's side and stepping in when things were at their hottest, Heath was sure that years of resentment towards the man he never knew, would have swung into full motion, with this volatile middle son being the target.

By the time the evening was over, Nick had been resigned to the fact that Heath was staying, though his disapproval was obvious. Victoria had escorted the new arrival up to one of the spare rooms and helped to get him settled.

"Give it time, Heath," she reassured him before retiring that night. "Nick will come around. This is all just so new to him...he needs his space for now. Anyway, I'm glad to have you here." She gave his hand a squeeze before leaving him to think on her words. "And I want you to make yourself at home here," she called back before closing the door to his room. "You have as much right as any of us."

Her decision had been sealed without reservation...that he was sure of. She had seemed to accept every bit of his story without hesitation and now her actions were only proof of what she had already said. He felt like he could trust her, but he still wasn't ready to put his guard down completely. He'd been burned before, and by people who had seemed just as nice.

Reaching for his vest and hat, Heath exited his room and descended the back staircase. Casually he sauntered out through the corral area and over to the bunkhouse. Another day, another milestone. He didn't know what this day held in store, but he would meet it head-on, and with dignity.

He paused defensively as Nick briskly brushed by him.

"Well, come on," Nick called over his shoulder, "ain't got all day!"

Out in front of the bunkhouse the dinner bell clanged as the ranch foreman, Duke McCall, beat the steel triangle, rallying the men for assembly.

"Mr. Barkley wants to have a word with you," he barked as the men gathered round. "Now, all of you...listen up!"

Nick cleared his throat as he stood on the porch of the bunkhouse and began to speak.

"There have been a few changes that have sort of come up suddenly around here," he began, eyeing Heath, "and I'm not goin' to spend a lot of time explainin' things. What I have to say is just the way things are and that'll be my final word on the subject. This here is my half-brother, Heath...Heath Barkley. He's goin' to be helpin' me run the ranch. You're to take orders from him, just as you would from me. Do I make myself clear?"

Murmurs echoed from around the scattered group of men as all glances were cast in Heath's direction where he stood, apart from Nick. Clenching his jaw tight, he hooked his thumbs over his gunbelt as he stared straight into the eyes of the leery ranch workers. McCall looked him over suspiciously, checking him out from head to toe. The boy seemed none too friendly and Nick's voice seemed to carry a surly edge to it. McCall studied the faces of the others as well...they were somber and guarded. After years of experience working with men, the old foreman could smell trouble brewing...maybe not today, but somewhere down the line...just as sure as he was standing there.

The way Heath was feeling, Nick might as well have thrown him to the wolves. He could practically hear the snarls. Just a few nights before, he had signed on as 'one of the crew'. Now, a couple of days later, he had been promoted to the position of right-hand man, though Nick's introduction of him was less than festive. He could sense the animosity and hear the echoes of resentment.

"Figures," he heard a dark, stubble-faced cowboy comment to his tall, grim partner. "Didn't take him long to move into the big house. There goes your chances of foreman, Sinclair."

Sinclair spat in the dirt as the men were dismissed. He'd already put in two years of sweat working for the Barkleys. He figured that when McCall retired in fall, he'd be first in line for the foreman's vacated position. Foreman would be a start...a chance to get his foot in the door...and then he'd try his hand at courting Miss Audra. Success could come several different ways...a fellow could work hard, steal or marry into it.

"Come on, Barrett. Let's get started," he growled, glancing at Heath distastefully.

"Barrett! Sinclair! Hold up there a minute!" Nick called.

"Yeah? What is it?" Sinclair managed, trying not to let his annoyance show.

"I'm assignin' the two of you, plus Cortez, to Heath's work crew today. Well, him being new here and all...well, I just figured you two could show him the ropes. You know...that fencin' project we have going out on the north forty? I'd go myself, but I have some business in town that needs lookin' into. You ride out with them, Heath," Nick suggested, turning to his new brother. "Sinclair here has been around for a couple've years and knows what all needs to be done. Barrett...well, he ain't been around as long, but long enough to have a pretty good handle on things."

The two nodded and headed off towards the stables, leaving Heath and Nick alone once more.

"You just tag along with them for the day and you'll be all right," Nick coached. "See you at supper."

The July sun was merciless, causing the newest Barkley to wipe his brow. It was well past noon and Heath paused to take a swig from his canteen. He cast an eye over to the hard working boy beside him. The slim Mexican boy, no more than sixteen, was Rico Cortez. He'd worked beside Heath all morning, yet the two had not exchanged a single word.

"Cortez," he hollered down the few yards and waited until the boy looked up. "Take a break."

He motioned for the boy to follow him over to a tree nearby. He unpacked a couple of sandwiches that Silas had handed him that morning, and gave one to the boy. He looked over as Cortez shifted his eyes in caution but didn't touch the food.

"Senor? I, uh...that's okay. I will eat later."

"Can't eat two, you might as well eat one. Go on," Heath urged as the boy sat down beside him.

"Gracias, Senor."

"Been working here long?"

"Three weeks. "

"You got family in these parts?"

"No, they live about forty miles or so past the border in Mesina."

"Never heard of it."

"No, Senor, you wouldn't. No one would. It's a very small village."

Cortez finished up and scurried back to his task. He didn't feel comfortable talking to this newcomer. He had heard the men in the bunkhouse calling him names. Rico didn't think the badmouthing was right, but he would mind his business and keep to himself. He couldn't afford to get into any trouble or they might find out about him. He didn't trust gringos, but the money he earned from them spent well. He needed the money so he could get farther away before the law came looking for him.

Heath left his young counterpart and went to check on Barrett and Sinclair who were working a couple of miles down the fenceline. He squinted into the distance to make sure, but he didn't see hide nor hair of them. Climbing down from Sally, his Modoc pony, he approached the tools and scowled at the miles of repairs yet to be done. Not one piece of fenceline had been touched. No wonder it had been Sinclair's idea to split up. They'd scurried off somewhere to loaf, leaving him and the kid to do all the work. Angrily he snatched up the shovel and began to dig, his fury building towards what would be a colorful confrontation.

"Well, we might as well get it over with, but I'm warning you, Jarrod. I'm not backing down. Crown can take his sorry hide back to Jordan and tell him what I said. He can bring a whole army in and we'll still stand them down. I won't cave in to their tactics!" Nick's fist made contact with Jarrod's desk and caused several articles to jump.

The lawyer sat in calm contemplation, never flinching a muscle. It didn't take long for Nick to figure out just where it was that his older brother was hiding.

"So you're not such the 'good son' after all. You don't believe him either," Nick baited.

"I want to, Nick," Jarrod said, finally looking up, "but..."

"You want to! Why? That story of his is as transparent as the air you're breathing. He's no more a Barkley than Crown is! You just wait until his real motives are uncovered. Then he'll be sorry for dragging my father's name in the mud!"

"Real motives? Please Nick, spare me your dime novel suspicions. And he was my father, too...a man of flesh and blood. Mother's already admitted that she knew about the affair, and she's accepted Heath. If she can, we have no right to stand in the way."

"You don't believe that. I know you too well," Nick argued, perching on the corner of Jarrod's desk.

"He's staying, Nick. You're just going to have to adjust and accept things..."

"The hell I will!" Nick jumped up and paced the spacious office. "I'll work with him, but I'll never accept him. I can hear the wheels turning in that head of yours, Jarrod. That legal mind wants black and white evidence whether you admit it to anyone or not. "

Jarrod started to rebuke his brother, but stopped. Nick was right. The first thing he had thought of on the way to town today, was how to get evidence of Heath's birthright. But not for the reasons Nick thought. He didn't want to disprove the claim. He wanted it settled, one way or another. He'd sent a wire to Sacramento to Christopher Warren, who worked in the State Department. If there was anything in Heath's past, Chris was the man to find it.

A knock on the door interrupted the brothers and Jarrod's secretary, Katherine Evans, poked her head in the door.

"Mr. Crown is here. Should I show him in?"

"Yes, Kate, thank you."

"This ain't over Jarrod." Nick warned as Crown entered and sat down to discuss the brewing problem between the railroad and the ranchers of the valley.

"Where've you been?" Heath snarled as Sinclair and Barrett rode up.

"We had business in town," Barrett spat. "Not that it's any of your concern."

"It's after four and you've been gone all day. Your job was to repair this fenceline, not boozing in the saloon. "

"Shut up, you no-good cur." Sinclair pushed Heath hard, sending him to his knees.

Heath charged back and the two exchanged several blows before Heath's arms were grabbed by Barrett. Sinclair used this opportunity to take several jabs at the unprotected midsection and face of his new boss.

Heath fell to his knees and gasped for breath. The blood dripping from his nose and mouth left a crimson pattern in the dirt.

"You're fired," he choked without looking up.

The two ignored him and set about placing fenceposts and securing them, knowing that Nick would be by any minute to check on their progress. Sinclair was surprised at how much the bastard got done. Suddenly Sinclair was standing face to face with the newest arrival as the firm hand turned him.

"Maybe you didn't hear me. Pick up what you're owed and get out or I'll throw you out."

"You and what army?" Barrett laughed.

Heath grabbed him by the neck and propelled him to his horse.

"Get movin'!"

Barrett turned and shoved the cowboy hard.

"I take my orders from Nick Barkley, not some misbegotten, half-breed skunk. You didn't hire me, you can't fire me. Nick knows us. He'll never believe any story you tell!"

The mock applause from Sinclair caused Heath to take pause. The look on his face was easily read by Barrett and Sinclair.

"I know what you're thinking, Mutt, and you're right. Nick won't believe you for one minute. Hell, he don't even like you. He'd sooner see you're sorry butt heading off the ranch. "

Leaning in, Sinclair made his threat known.

"Don't push me, Boy, or it will be the sorriest mistake you'll ever make."

Heath stood and glared right back, poking a hard finger in Sinclair's sternum.

"Don't ever threaten me, Sinclair."

Heath stared the man down and waited until Sinclair joined Barrett by the fenceline, before riding back to where Cortez was finishing up their section. It was almost an hour's ride back to the bunkhouse. The kid had done more than his share. Heath patted the sweat-soaked boy's exhausted back.

"Go on in, Kid, I'll finish up."

Cortez looked up and saw the bruises and bloody face. He didn't say anything, but merely nodded as he stood up.

"Gracias, Senor Barkley. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

Heath poured some the remaining bit of water in his canteen onto his kerchief and held it against his nose and mouth. He watched the boy ride away. Senor Barkley, indeed. One day and he was already behind the eight ball. Barrett and Sinclair were trouble and Heath had no idea of how to beat them. Picking up the shovel, he eyed the remaining miles of fenceline and got back to work.

"Hello!" came the chipper voice from behind.

Heath finished splashing the water on his dirty face and stood up from the trough.

"Oh, hi," he managed. "Didn't hear you come up."

"I just got here. I saw you ride in from the house and thought I'd come find out how your day went."

"Okay," he lied.

"Okay. That doesn't tell me much," she cheerfully argued. "You don't say a whole lot, do you?"

"Only when I need to," came the brusk reply.

"You know," she continued, "Nick still says he isn't buying into that story of yours. But he says he'll go along with it for now...but I just want you to know that I believe you, Heath."

"I ain't askin' anyone to buy into anythin'," Heath gruffed, swatting his hat against his chaps in an attempt to remove some of the dust. "It's a fact and that's all there is to it. Nick not wantin' to accept the truth don't make it any less true."

"That's what I tried to tell him," Audra replied. "Anyway, if it makes you feel any better, Mother and Jarrod are both on your side as well."

"Well, I didn't figure I'd still be here if they weren't," came the terse comeback. He looked squarely into Audra's pained blue eyes and felt the sting his tones had carried. "Hey," he gentled, "I didn't mean to come off soundin' so rough. I just...well, I guess I'm still feelin' a bit confused over everythin' that's happened the past few days, and maybe I exaggerated a bit when I said things went okay today. Are we still friends?" he asked, offering her a lopsided grin.

"Of course we are!" she smiled, taking his arm. "Come on, I'll walk you to the house."

Feeling his suspicious nature subside, he allowed her to escort him towards the pillared porch, enjoying her casual prattle. Perhaps belonging to a family was going to have it's merits after all. Suddenly, Heath felt extremely hungry. Whatever it was that Silas had stirred up for supper tonight, it certainly was going to taste good!

They watched from the shadows as that prissy, purebred Barkley filly sidled up to the mongrel half-breed. A few minutes passed before she linked arms with him and the two of them walked towards the house. Sinclair felt his stomach sour.

"It ain't right," he said to Barrett. "Look at him cozying up to that Barkley brat. She don't even look at the likes of me."

"Well you ain't Tom Barkley's bastard," Barrett chuckled.

"Neither is he. He's a bastard, but he's no more Barkley's kid then I am."

"Maybe it's about time we learned that spawn some manners," Barrett grinned as several ideas formed.

"What you got in mind, Hank?"

Barrett watched the two blondes disappear through the massive column's and started to laugh. Yes, Heath Thomson would be sorry he ever set foot on Barkley property and spilled that wild lie.

"Come on, I'll fill you in on the way to the chow line."

The blue sky seemed to smile down on the handsome, well-dressed stranger as he walked towards the Cattlemen's Hotel. He nodded at several women who smiled coyly, as any eligible girl would. He stood just over six feet tall, with the broad shoulders and flat stomach leading down to a slim waist. A fine physique topped off by handsome features which were accented with the dark blue eyes and wavy chestnut hair. Entering the hotel, he smiled as a familiar voice blasted the air.

"Don't tell me to keep my voice down...and let go of my arm, Jarrod!"

"Still a church mouse, eh Nick?"

Nick's scowl turned into a big grin as he turned around. His eyes lit up at the sight of his old friend. They'd met in first grade and stuck by each other until he went back east for college. Nick hadn't seen him in years.

"Elliott? Elliott Carrington? My God, man, how long has it been?"

"Too long, Nick. Five years anyway." He braced himself for the bear hug and hard backslap.

"Jarrod, good to see you again!" he said, taking the lawyer's hand.

"Elliott, have you moved back home?"

"Yes, It's been six months since my father died and the house was standing vacant, so I decided to move back. I can operate my business out of San Francisco. My partner is overseeing things until I get the property updated."

"Well, don't be so busy you can't come to dinner tonight. I know you didn't forget the address," Nick teased.

"No, I think I could still find my way to your place blindfolded," Elliott chuckled, "But I'm afraid that's not going to work. I'm already committed to a previous dinner engagement...business stuff."

"Oh, that's too bad," Nick lamented, "I know the family will be terribly disappointed after I tell 'em we ran into you today. What about stopping by for billiards and brandy a bit later? Would that work?"

"Billiards and brandy would be fine. Say about nine o'clock or so?"

"I'll have the pool cues chalked!" Nick promised.

"Excuse me gentlemen, but I've got to go. I'm late to meet a judge," Jarrod broke in. "Elliott, good to see you again and we can catch up later this evening!"

"Looking forward to it, Jarrod," he nodded as the lawyer left.

"I heard about the shootout a couple of weeks ago at Sample's place. Tough to lose so many good men."

"Sure is, Elliott, but if it weren't for men like that, we'd all be drinking tea and bowing to a queen."

"I heard some rumors around town that you've got a new brother? What's that all about?"

Elliott watched his friend's face darken and was a bit taken back by the response.

"He's no brother of mine. He's somebody's bastard, but not my father's. He's conned the rest of the family, but I can see right through him. He's up to no good, I'd bank on it. His kind usually is."

"Didn't mean to get you so fired up, Nick. Least I can do is treat you to a beer," Elliott offered.

The two spent the next hour in the Cattleman's bar, reliving old times and catching up. Nick had to go, but was looking forward to pool that evening. Elliott watched him leave and thought carefully on Nick's words.

"Whoa, Girl!"

Heath pulled up on the reins to stop the already faltering horse. Swinging a leather covered leg down from the saddle, he stooped to examine the abrasion on Sally's lower front leg.

"It ain't real bad, Girl," he calmed to the injured animal, "but I reckon it'd be best if I walked you in."

Taking a swig from his canteen, Heath offered some to Sally and then used the rest to wet down the horse's wound. Hooking the canteen back up around the horn of his saddle, Heath began the three mile walk back to the ranch.

"The way things have been goin'," he thought grimly, "Nick'll more than likely say I was usin' this as an excuse to loaf."

Trudging along under the summer sun, Heath reflected on the past two weeks since he had come to live at the ranch. The men all seemed to hate him...all except that Mexican kid, and he was not much more than indifferent. Mrs. Barkley and Audra both were really seeming to make an effort to welcome him, and Jarrod, though sometimes reserved, appeared to be warming up, as well. Nick was at best civil, and that was when his mother was there to monitor things. Well, like his mama always told him, time has a way of working things out. Heath scowled as he mulled over her words and thought back to his hotheaded half-brother. There was always an exception to every rule and Nick was an exceptionally difficult person to deal with. If time didn't solve the problems with Nick, Heath reckoned that fighting would.

Heath rounded the tree-lined bend in the road and the large, red barn and numerous outbuildings burst into view. Home at last, and he had sure worked up an appetite.

"Come on, Girl," he coaxed the gimping pony. "Oats and your stall are just up ahead."

"What are you doing, Heath?" Audra asked as she spied him in the barn patting a mud poultice on his Modoc's fetlock. "I was just comin' out to tell you supper's about ready."

"Makin' a mudpack for Sally," he replied without looking up.

"A mudpack? What on earth for?" Audra baffled.

"She got skinned up on a rock today and I'm tryin' to take down the swellin'. It's another one of them Injun tricks I learned as a kid. A good mudpack can take several days of restin' off a lame horse. There you go, Girl," he soothed, patting the pony's neck as he stood. "A day or two of rest and some extra grain, and you'll be as good as new!"

The small, black mare nickered at the familiar voice and with ears erect, turned her head to nuzzle her master's hand.

"I think she's looking for sugar!" Audra exclaimed, reaching out to touch the velvet soft nose. "Here you go," she said reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small cube.

Both siblings watched as the probing lips gently accepted the sugar from Audra's palm. The little mare nickered again, this time using her delicate nostrils to nudge and explore Audra's pockets.

"Now look what you've done," Heath chuckled. "You've gone and spoiled her."

"Don't you ever give your horse sugar?" Audra queried.

"Nope. Never could see wastin' it on a horse. Up until now, she's never tasted sugar. I reckon now she'll be expectin' it all the time."

"I'm surprised to hear you say that," Audra remarked. "From what I've observed, you really seem to have a way with animals. I figured if anybody would want to spoil them, it would be you."

"Oh, I reckon I spoil 'em in my own way. A good brushin', an extra measure of grain. But I also realize that an animal has it's place. When I was growin' up, if my mama had ever caught me takin' food off the table to feed a horse...well, let's just say I wouldn't be sittin' down for a while."

"Did you ever have pets of any kind when you where a boy, Heath?" Audra wondered as she wistfully combed her fingers through Sally's mane.

"I had a dog when I was young and that's about it...that is unless you want to count Bertha Ann."

"Bertha Ann? Who or what was Bertha Ann?" Audra couldn't hide her curiosity, and she was really enjoying getting to know this 'gentler' side of her new brother.

"Bertha Ann was a chicken I came across one day in the woods," Heath reminisced. "A raccoon had her and you might say I saved her from a rather agonizin' death."

"Oh, tell me more," Audra squealed in delight. "How did you save her!"

"There really ain't much to tell," Heath replied modestly. "I was out tryin' to hunt down a rabbit or somethin' for dinner and I heard this squawkin'. I didn't know for sure what it was, but I figured it had to be some kind've meat. Well, as it turned out, it was meat all right. A big, ol' raccoon had stolen a chicken but hadn't killed it. He had carried it off into the woods and somehow managed to scalp all the skin off the back of that poor chicken's head."

"The poor thing!" Audra empathized. "What happened next?"

"Well, I managed to scare the coon off and the chicken was all but in total shock."

"But she was still alive, wasn't she?"

"Yeah, I'm gettin' to that part," Heath grinned. "I was able to scoop her up and carry her home. I was a little nervous about bringin' her back to the house. We were so poor and all that I was afraid my mama might get ideas about cookin' her."

"Did she?"

"Nope. She took one look at that bird and had her herbs and medicines out tryin' to doctor it up some. I named her Bertha Ann and she was my pet for a good number of years." Heath face lit as he thought back on his much loved Banty hen. "Oh course," he continued, "she always had a bald spot after that. She used to follow me to my job at the livery stable in town. She'd clean up any grain that got scattered from the horses eatin' and then would fly up and perch in the rafters keepin' an eye out on things."

"That's a sweet story," Audra smiled, "and one I'll always cherish."

"Come on, let's go find out what Silas has planned for supper!" Heath suggested. "I'm half starved!"

"Let's just hope it isn't chicken," Audra giggled.

Arm in arm, the two youngest Barkley siblings made there way towards the house. Suddenly stopping, Audra took a moment to look her youngest brother in the eye.

"You know what?" she asked.

"What!"

"I really love having a brother that's closer to my own age!" she blurted out, noticing the rosy hue his sun tanned cheeks had taken on.

He stopped as he felt his face flush. Shifting his eyes, he gave her a shy smile. He didn't understand this feeling creeping inside him, but it felt good. Whether it was her unconditional acceptance of him, or maybe what it felt like to be a big brother, he didn't know. Yep, he liked this little sister of his! It was as if she could read his mind and he could see the wonder in her bright eyes. Putting his hand around the slim waist, he thought on her words.

"Reckon If I looked high and wide for a little sister, I wouldn't find any better...or prettier," he managed, trying not to let the embarrassment show. "Come on! If we're much later, Silas will be sendin' out a search party!"

The two entered the dining area where the family was already seated and Silas was in the process of serving. Audra took her customary seat next to Heath and unfolded her linen napkin. Following her example, Heath now knew to place his napkin on his lap, rather than to tuck it into his shirt like a bib. The smell of fried chicken permeated their nostrils as Silas placed a large platter of his great grandmother's favorite recipe in the center of the table. Audra needed no more provocation than that. Soon the shrill sounds of laughter echoed in the dining room. Heath's deep boom was forthcoming.

"Now, would you two mind tellin' me what the devil is so funny?" Nick questioned.

Audra merely shook her head and rested her forehead in her hand as she tried to regain her composure.

"Heath?" Victoria asked, with an inquisitive look of concern. "Is there something I need to know about?"

"No, Ma'am," he answered.

"Is there something wrong with the chicken, Miz Audra?" Silas wanted to know. This only triggered another gale of giggles coming from the only Barkley daughter. She glanced over at Heath, taking in his crooked grin as he cocked a knowing eyebrow in her direction.

"It's really nothing," she managed. "Just a little inside joke between Heath and me."

"Well, if it's all that secret, it doesn't belong at the dinner table!" Nick growled.

"That will be enough, Nick," Victoria chastised. "Now, since you've taken it upon yourself to direct our topic of conversation, how about leading us in grace?"

The family joined hands and bowed their heads as Nick gave thanks for the bountiful platter of chicken they were about to receive. Heath couldn't resist giving Audra's hand a little squeeze. She had gained his trust and he now viewed her as an ally. It seemed as though the womenfolk of this new family of his were all officially on his side, and that was half the battle. Jarrod was almost there and Nick...well, he wouldn't worry about Nick right now. Time would only tell where that relationship was going to go, but for now, all he wanted to do was eat.

Nick finished with an 'Amen' and the plates were passed. Heath helped himself to a generous portion of 'yard bird'. One thing about being a Barkley was he never had to go without. Victoria cast a glance over at her youngest son. It was good to see the boy smiling for a change. Perhaps his transition would go smoother than she had originally anticipated. He already seemed more comfortable when the family assembled. Now, if only Nick would learn to relax.

"One of these days," she thought, "this family is going to be seated here in perfect unity."

If only she knew what the immediate future held in store.

"Heath," Victoria beckoned as he headed in the direction of the front stair case. "One of Nick's old school chums will be joining us for some pool a little later. I do hope you'll join us."

"If you don't mind, Ma'am, I think I'd rather just take a hot bath and go to bed. I'm sure he ain't comin' to see me."

"No, like I told you he's an old friend of Nick's, but a friend of the family's as well. Now that you're a part of our family, I was hoping that you would try and make an effort to become better acquainted with some of our friends. Besides," she said, placing a gentle hand on his arm, "it would mean a lot to me."

"Okay," Heath smiled. "Just lemme go get cleaned up and changed first. I wouldn't want to scare this guest of yours off."

"I'm sure you wouldn't do that, Heath, but go ahead and do what you need to do. We'll be in the library when you get done."

"Thanks, Ma'am. I shouldn't be too long."

A knock was heard at the front door and Silas greeted the handsome Elliott Carrington, offering to take his hat.

"Right this way, Mr. Carrington," the servant beckoned. "The family is already assembled in the library. I'll show you the way."

"Thanks, Silas," the smiling man replied, "but that won't be necessary. I know this house like the back of my hand."

"I guess you do at that, Sir," the black man answered. "Go right ahead!"

Nick was just racking the balls when the tall man entered, and Jarrod was carefully selecting his winning cue.

"Elliott!" Nick exclaimed. "Come on in! Let's see...you remember my mother and Audra...," he added, indicating the women seated over by the fireplace.

"Ah, yes! Mrs. Barkley, it's my pleasure," the distinguished individual blandished as he took the matron's delicate fingers and gently placed a kiss on the back of her hand.

"And Audra!"

The debonair man was astonished on the breathtaking beauty in front of him. Surely this couldn't be Nick's pesky little sister who used to follow them around and make a nuisance of herself? The girl that he used to think of as a thistle had blossomed into an extraordinary lovely lily of the valley, her flaxen hair thickly draping her slender shoulders.

Likewise, Audra was more than smitten with this suave gentleman standing before her. She had always been attracted to his type...the smart, polished, refined professional...and his looks certainly weren't making her eyes tired.

"Pleased to make your reacquaintance," she managed, feeling slightly flushed. "My brother has already told us much about you."

"He should have warned me about you, Fair Lady," he oozed, kissing the soft hand, "You would make Helen of Troy pale in comparison. "

Audra blushed and smiled coyly, allowing the handsome man to escort her to the settee.

"Man, you haven't changed much," Nick complained. "Still laying it on thick."

"Nick, I see the ways of love and affairs of the heart are still a mystery to you." Elliott charmed, patting his friend's back.

"You line 'em up and they'll fall at my feet, Old Buddy. This Barkley charm goes a long way," Nick spouted, placing the cue ball on the green field.

"That and the fact that 'charm' as you call it, isn't meant for the sweet and innocent," Jarrod joked from the easy chair across the room.

Heath tucked the clean shirt into his pants and made his way downstairs. Dinner had gone well. He felt more relaxed than he had since his arrival. Audra and Mrs. Barkley had kept the conversation light, and even Nick was in a cheery mood. Maybe things were getting settled down. He followed the sound of laughter and the crack of the billiard balls into the spacious room. He shuffled over to the side wall and stood watching the game progress. Nick was doing fairly well...the tall elegantly attired man with his back to Heath, would be the old friend Mrs. Barkley mentioned.

Victoria smiled at the stories Nick and Elliott were reminiscing about. Where had the years gone? She remembered Elliot's mother, Claire, from whom Elliott got his fine coloring. His father, John, had been in business for himself, importing from the Far East. His San Francisco business thrived, but his quiet wife missed her hometown of Stockton, so they settled here. The boys became fast friends. Elliott went away to college, and Claire died shortly thereafter. John and his son had a falling out, something about his dropping out of school. He left after his mother's funeral and they'd lost track of him. She glanced up and spotted Heath leaning against the door frame.

"Heath, please join us. I'd like you to meet Elliott Carrington."

Elliott turned at Victoria Barkley's words and extended his hand to the young man who appeared to be twenty-one or so. As their eyes met, he saw the same question reflected there. He guarded his look, enjoying the fact that Nick's half-brother had no idea from where he remembered him.

"Elliott, this is my husband's son, Heath. Elliott and Nick went through their school years together," Victoria added as the two released their grip.

"Good to meet you, Heath. Welcome to the Valley. How do you like working with this quiet guy?" he baited, indicating Nick with a toss of his head.

Elliott watched carefully as Nick and Heath's eyes met over the table. Neither said a word. Jarrod broke the silence by offering a wager.

"I'd say by the way Heath looked over that table, he's about to challenge the winner. My money's on you, Heath."

Heath nodded gratefully at Jarrod. This oldest brother of his who had offered the olive branch to him at Sample's farm, had been distant, other than meals, for these last dozen days. Of course, he was busy with a big trial and had been keeping late hours.

"Heath?" Elliott tapped him with the cue "What about it?"

Heath looked at the triangle full of colored balls. Nick was chalking his cue, looking just a little too cocky. Heath took Elliott's cue and nodded. His cold eyes met his brother's hot ones over the center of the table.

"I'll break. Eight ball, straight, crossover, hi-low, bank? What'll it be...Brother," Heath glared.

Nick shifted, leaning onto the table, meeting the icy blue eyes. Oh, would he enjoy wiping that smirk off the whelp's face. Pulling out a wad of cash, he counted out fifty and handed it to Jarrod.

"Too rich for your blood, Boy?" He grinned.

Heath followed suit and waited, coolly standing on the far end.

"Call it," he said simply.

"Bank," Nick replied, walking behind the blond as he scattered the balls.

The room became quiet as the tension in the air thickened. Victoria watched Jarrod carefully. His slight smile as he watched Heath, told her a lot. Competition was something Nick thrived on, and for the first time, she saw the emulous spirit in Heath's eye's as well. It was the same spirit his father had. If only Nick could see the irony...that he and this young man whom he rebelled against, shared so many intangible qualities.

Elliott watched the brothers as well, but his main interest was the very lovely, very wealthy and very ripe Audra Barkley. Easing himself next to her on the settee, he drank in her scent. His mind was a whirlwind of activity and plans for the upcoming weeks. He'd sweep her right off her pretty feet and right into his willing arms.

The young man was skilled...very skilled. He watched Nick's face set in stone, as the younger called every shot and sank them...eight in a row. Nick took the next two, then scratched. Heath finished with precision. Laying the stick across the table, he smiled gamely.

"Double or nothin', Sport?" he challenged.

"Rack 'em," Nick growled, grabbing his cue. "Call it."

Heath winked at Audra and enjoyed the broad smile Jarrod gave him. Suddenly it was turning out to be a great night after all. With the crack of the balls in the background, he looked at Elliott and Audra talking quietly in the corner. An uneasiness crossed over him. Was it because he couldn't place the stranger's face, or because something about the way he looked at Audra reminded Heath of a snake about to eat a mouse.

"You're up." Nick smacked him, breaking his gaze.

Victoria and Audra left the men around midnight, and Heath followed shortly after, over a hundred dollars richer. Jarrod was dozing in the chair as Nick walked Elliott to the door. Promising to return for dinner soon, the handsome opportunist mounted his horse and headed for home. Relocating back to Stockton might just turn out to be his best move yet. He couldn't wait to capture those ruby lips of hers and caress that silken skin...a burning desire to conquer the spoiled princess and make her his own. Tom Barkley's only daughter would be quite a catch.

While the Barkley mansion was filled with light and mirth, several miles away in the dark, five men stood as they listened to the speaker in the shadows. As was their penchant for preciseness, he outlined the plan.

They listened as he ensured every detail down to the minute. Finally, his head came up. The scar that ran from his right eye to the corner of his mouth seemed to accent the patch that covered the lost orb. His hair was dark, the face clean-shaven, and the temperament, cool and menacing.

"Any questions?" He asked, looking at them.

"You sure nobody'll be home?" Zeke 'Banjo' Jones asked?

"He's out every day from noon 'til four. The house will be empty."

Jones eyed his sinister friend warily. They had met in Denver and immediately felt a kinship. Both were cold-blooded killers as they'd discovered that sunny afternoon during the bank robbery. The wild teens had fought their way through the state until they had met their mentor. He schooled them in the ways of planning and precision and how patience can be your best friend. They were called 'the wolf pack' for their quick, cunning attacks and disappearances. This was their biggest heist yet, and if it went well, they could retire with the haul they'd bring in. Eyeing his old buddy, Jones smiled. Yes, he and Wolf had come a long way since that day in Denver.

"All right then, you all have your jobs to do. We'll meet here tomorrow at noon and proceed. Jenkins, you ride back with me." Wolf nodded to the big, burly, bald enforcer.

"What about Gibbons?" Jones asked before the man to his left could speak.

"He's been updated, he'll be ready. You just make sure that package is delivered." Wolf eyed the two on the end. They met his fierce look and nodded.

The gang broke up and rode their separate ways. All was once again quiet in the Valley. It was much later when Wolf reached the crossroads. The full moon illuminated the rider as he made his way down the road. Wolf watched him and eyed the expensive suit the well groomed man wore and smiled. Pacing himself, he fell in behind the handsome horseman and followed him.

"You goin' into town?" Heath asked as Victoria entered the barn, dressed in her riding clothes.

"Yes, I need to pick up a few things. Would you care to drive me?"

"Sure, I'd be glad to...but I'm not sure if Nick's goin' to like me bein' gone."

"You just don't worry yourself about Nick," Victoria reassured. "I need to go into town and would very much enjoy having your company!"

"Oh, I ain't worried, Ma'am. Just didn't wanna go rockin' the boat is all."

"Well, instead of the boat, how about hitching up the carriage!"

Forty-five minutes later, the black buggy labeled 'Barkley Ranch' pulled up in front of the dry goods store.

"You coming along inside, Heath?" Victoria wanted to know.

"No, I'd like to mosey on over to the livery. I'll be back in a few minutes to help you with your packages."

The two went their separate ways and soon Heath was talking to Harley Perkins who owned and operated Stockton's only livery.

"What can I do for you, Young Fellow?" the gray-haired horse trader asked. "Looks like you're in need of a horse. Would you like to rent a mount for the day?"

"Well, lemme look over what you've got and I'll decide," Heath mused. "I'm not sure yet what I wanna do. My horse is lame for a few days and I need something that has some cow sense."

"I've got the finest cowponies in town," Perkins bragged, leading Heath to a corral behind the stable. "I rent or sell. It's your choice."

Heath looked over the fine string of roans, bays and sorrels. He reached in his pocket and pulled out the little money he had. The twenty dollars he had in his pocket was more than he usually carried. When he was working as a ranch hand, that was close to a month's pay.

"How much for that black?" Heath asked, studying the fine specimen of horseflesh before him.

"Now, I can't let that one go cheap. He's a high dollar animal. How much were you figurin' on spendin'?"

"I hadn't really decided on an exact amount," Heath skirted. "Is this all you've got?"

"Well, there's Buster. He's in a pen all by himself."

"Why do you keep him by himself?" Heath suspicioned.

"When you have an animal that fine," Perkins lied, "you don't want no other horses pickin' fights with him."

"Let's have a look," Heath agreed, not buying into the game for a minute.

Heath followed Harley back into the barn and over to an enclosed paddock that housed a lone stallion.

"He's a fine lookin' animal," Heath remarked, somewhat surprised at the lines and conformation of the stout buckskin.

Entering the stall, he ran his hand down the horse's leg and picked up a front hoof.

"Feet are real good, too. Nice and hard. What's your price?"

"For a horse like this? I reckon I'll need a good thirty dollars for him."

"I don't know," Heath bargained as he tried separating the horse's lips to have a look at the teeth. "He's kinda stubborn, ain't he? Come on, Boy, open up."

Using his index finger, Heath applied pressure to the corners of the stallion's mouth and reluctantly, the jaw dropped.

"What is he, about four or five years old?" Heath questioned.

"He's four."

"I don't know," Heath replied. "Guess I'll just have to think on it a bit."

"I tell you what," the horse trader replied, "twenty dollars and he's yours!"

Heath smiled inwardly as he reached in his pocket for the folded bill.

"You got yourself a deal, Mister!" he grinned, extending his arm to seal the agreement.

Heath was just tying his newest acquisition behind the buggy when Victoria exited the store. She stopped, astonished, and watched the equine scratching his face against the back wheel.

"You got yourself a horse!" she exclaimed.

"Yeah, this is Buster. Sally's lame and it's good to have a spare, anyways."

"We've got plenty of horses on the ranch, Heath. You would have been more than welcome to one of those. I mean after all, they're your horses, too!"

Heath seemed a bit taken. He wasn't used to having so much at his disposal. He had needed a horse, so he went into town and bought his own. That's the way he had always done it before.

"Thanks, Ma'am, but I guess I'm just used to fendin' for myself. All this is goin' to take some gettin' used to."

"I know," Victoria empathized, "this must be a real adjustment for you, as well."

"Do you have any packages that need cartin' out to the buggy?"

"Yes, I do have a few things. Come on! You can help!"

Heath followed the petite woman back into the store and over to the counter where Harry Simons was packaging up her purchased items.

"So this must be Heath," the friendly clerk commented, extending a warm smile.

"Pleased to meet you, Sir," Heath replied, offering his hand.

Suddenly, from out in front of the store came a harsh clatter. Dropping Harry's hand and running for the door, Heath arrived just in time to see his four-legged purchase standing with his two front hooves planted up, over and in the back of the buggy.

"Heath!" Victoria exclaimed from over his shoulder. "Do something! He'll ruin the buggy!"

Her words, however, were wasted. Heath was already leaping off the boardwalk and reaching for the horse's lead rope.

"Now you just get outta there, you jughead!" he hollered, using a firm grip to back the animal up.

Clumsily stepping back, the headstrong equine dropped his front legs back down to the ground, scraping the side of the buggy on the way. Heath loosed the rope and after taking in some of the slack, snugged the knot.

"Guess I know what I'm gonna be doin' this afternoon," he sighed, stepping back to survey the damage. "Repaintin' this buggy."

"Don't worry about it," Victoria smoothed. "That's why we have Ciego."

Heath finished loading the packages and helped Victoria into the buggy.

"Some bargain," he thought to himself as he took up the driving reins and urged the carriage horse forward. "Now I know why he kept that horse under lock and key."

"He's beautiful, Heath!" Audra yelled from her perch on the corral fence.

"Yeah, he's a looker," the cowboy replied as he reined his mount up next to his sister. "But boy howdy, does he have a mind of his own!"

"He seemed to run through his paces okay," Audra observed.

"Yup, whoever broke him in did a nice job...that ain't his problem. He just seems...well, too smart for his own good."

"Are you smart, Buster?" Audra cooed, cupping the horse's face. "Maybe Heath can train you to do tricks."

"Oh, I'm sure he'll do tricks," Heath mused. "He's probably got plenty of 'em. But I just don't think they're the kind you've got in mind."

"Heath, are you coming back to the house for lunch?" Audra asked.

"No, I think I'd better take Buster, here, and ride out to where Nick and the boys are workin' in the orchard. Day's half gone and Nick's already gonna be mad enough. See ya at supper!" he grinned before cantering through the gateway.

They made a good team, and the last few days Heath seemed to think Rico Cortez was relaxing a little. Something about the serious teenager appealed to Heath. He saw a lot of himself at that age in the boy. The sullen boy was quiet and kept to himself. He was a hard worker and Heath had come to rely on him, especially since Barrett and Sinclair were often missing. He'd tried to approach Nick about the lazy pair but had been rebuked, just like Sinclair had predicted. Nick dressed him down, stating he'd known Pete Sinclair for nearly three years and never had a problem. Barrett was only here a few months, but had been more than willing to pull his share. Putting the last crate of wine into the wagon, he covered the multiple cases with a tarp.

"Cortez, lunch," Heath called to the sweating boy.

Heath waited until the Mexican boy nodded, and then took the sandwiches and apples from his saddlebag. Sitting under a tree near the entrance to the winery, Heath handed the roast beef sandwich to the hungry boy.

"Gracias, Senor. You will spoil me."

"Don't think so. I was a lot like you at sixteen. You ain't the spoilin' kind."

"You and me, Senor? Alike?" the boy laughed, eyeing his suntanned boss.

"More than you think, Rico." Heath paused to get the two some cool water from the well nearby.

"I know that feeling that's gnawing in your gut," he said handing the boy a cup of water, "I've been there. I was fifteen or so when I got out of ...when the war ended. And been on my own ever since. Roaming from town to town, checking in on my Mama every now and then, I never found a place to settle. Then she died and I found out about my father."

"Your Mama...did she live nearby?"

"She was living in an all but dead town called Strawberry, 'bout a half day's ride from here. She died a couple months ago." Heath looked away.

"I'm sorry, Senor, I know how that feels. I had no father, either. Some drunken gringo attacked my mother one night as the family slept. I had a good home with my mother and grandmother. My grandfather died when I was little. Then grandmother died and things got bad. We had no money. I was desperate. She was sick, I..." He stopped suddenly realizing he'd said more than he wanted.

Heath listened and saw the terrified look on the boy's face. He was hiding something. He was scared of somebody or something. Heath watched as Rico tied the tarp securely. Easing off the ground, he tossed the apple core away and joined his young friend. Placing a hand on the boys' shoulder, he spoke quietly.

"If you ever want to talk bout what's eating away at you, Rico, I'd like to help. You remember that, okay?"

Rico took a minute to absorb the offer and nodded. Feeling the strong grip on his shoulder, he suddenly felt like he had a friend, his only friend in this strange country. Looking up, he saw nothing but sincerity in the pale eyes.

"Gracias, Senor Heath."

"You really gotta watch this horse, Nick," Heath argued. "He can't just be tied up or stuck in some pen."

"Now look, Boy! Are you tryin' to tell me I don't know horses?" Nick's agitation was evident as he watched Heath lead his new stallion into the enclosed paddock used to quarantine sick animals.

"You know horses, Nick, but you just don't know THIS horse. I've never seen one so smart. He's already untied himself twice today and the way he was playin' with that latch, I wouldn't be surprised if he opens gates."

"Well, you can't keep him in there! We may need to use that!"

"Sorry, Nick, but until I can rig up somethin' better, this is where I'm leavin' him. I'm sure you can't afford for me to be spendin' half the day chasin' down a stray horse."

Heath bolted the door to the paddock and walked out of the barn without giving his brother a second glance.

"Know-it-all leech!" the dark cowboy muttered to himself. "If he thinks he's goin' to ride in here and start issuin' orders, he's got another thing comin'! I helped Father build that paddock myself. Nobody's gonna come waltzin' in here and tell me what to do with what's already mine!"

Removing the wooden slab that held the door in place, Nick put a rope on the stallion's neck and led him over to one of the stalls. Feeling satisfied, Nick pulled off his gloves and hastened for the house. If he hurried, he could grab the bathtub before Heath even had a chance to remove his boots.

Nick's hair was still damp when he made his way down to the library where the family was enjoying their before dinner drinks. The hot bath had really relaxed him and he felt like a new man.

"So how's the project in the orchard coming, Nick?" Jarrod wanted to know.

"Comin' along well. I've got a full crew lined up tomorrow to lay the pipe down. In just a couple more days the pump should be in, and we'll be the valley's first irrigation pioneers."

"It's always good to know that we Barkleys blaze the trail of progress," came Jarrod's pleasant retort.

"And how was your day, Heath?" Jarrod continued. "Mother and Audra tell me that you bought yourself a new horse."

"Yeah, picked one up from Harley Perkins down at the livery today."

"Is he working out fairly well for you?"

"Oh, I think so. We seem to understand each other, anyways."

"What's that?" Audra interrupted, tuning an ear in the direction of the garden.

"What's what, Dear?" Victoria asked.

"I don't know," Audra replied, rising from her chair. "I thought I heard something outside. It almost sounded like a cow or horse or something walking around outside the house."

The windows and doors leading out to the verandah were open, allowing the summer evening's breeze to drift through the house. Audra walked to the double doors and peered out into the yard.

"Mother!"

"Audra, what is it?" Victoria jumped up from her seat and joined her daughter who was now on the verandah.

"Your roses! Look at them!"

"Oh my!" Victoria gasped. "Heath, look what that animal's done!"

The two women stood back as Heath pushed his way past them, leaped over the railing, and grabbed Buster's lead rope. Every one of Victoria's prize rose bushes had been pulled, stomped and chomped. Heath stood amongst the mangled debris, awestruck over the damage that one horse could cause.

"I don't understand it," he puzzled. "I had him secured down in the quarantine paddock. It would've been impossible for him to get out...unless.."

Hard steely eyes met the nervous hazel ones and locked into a cold stare.

"You did this!" Heath accused. "You put him in a different pen, didn't you?"

"Well, I, uh...I didn't think he needed to be in there!" Nick defended.

"I told you he'd get out!" Heath raged, taking a step in Nick's direction, still holding on to the animal's lead. "I told you that no ordinary pen was gonna hold this horse! You had no right to move him! Why I oughtta..."

"Heath, that will be enough," Jarrod intervened. "Is what he says true, Nick?" Jarrod inquired, turning to his middle brother.

"Yeah, it's true," Nick mumbled.

"All right, then! Guess who has the job of replanting Mother's rose garden!"

"Now, hold on there, Jarrod! I got cattle to tend. If you think I'm gonna..."

"Nick!" Victoria admonished. "You WILL clean up this mess, and you WILL be responsible for replanting every bush here! Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes," Nick resigned, casting a surly glance in Heath's direction.

"It's settled then," Victoria replied, coolly. "Heath, take Buster back to the barn so we can try to enjoy our dinner."

Still feeling out of sorts, Heath led the impudent stallion back out to the barn and once again, secured him inside the quarantine paddock. Sensing his brother's need for a friend, Jarrod hesitated for a moment and then trailed along, unnoticed. He watched as the two disappeared into the barn, thinking how much the angry young man and the stallion had in common. Both seemed wild and untamed, in a league all of their own. The door of the paddock was closed when Jarrod entered, but he could hear Heath's low voice lulling the horse.

"It's okay, Boy," Heath soothed, "I know just how you feel. There have been a few times I've felt like bustin' outta here myself. That Nick...he really knows how to get a person riled...reckon now he'll have those spurs of his in you, too. Well, I tell you what we're gonna do. We're gonna stick together, Boy, just like glue."

Buster snorted and Heath reached up to stroke the intelligent face.

"Sorry, Boy. Guess glue wasn't exactly the word I was lookin' for...but we're a team, you hear. Now, you just try and settle yourself down...I'll sit here with you for a while."

Jarrod turned and walked out of the barn with his head down. Heath was right about one thing. The similarities between him and that horse were uncanny. Both were simple, but smart; loners, without roots; and independent with an inner pride bigger than the Grand Canyon. Wrestling with his own conscious, Jarrod pondered his treatment of his new brother. He hadn't fought him, like Nick was doing, but yet he hadn't really gone out of his way to get to know him either. Purposing in his heart to change that situation, Jarrod joined his family at the dinner table.

Hank Barrett stepped outside, onto the bunkhouse porch and watched the action over by the Barkley barn. Nick was standing by the wagon talking to Rico Cortez. He didn't trust that kid. Although he kept his mouth shut, he was getting too friendly with the bastard. 'Speak of the devil and he shall appear', Barrett grinned as Heath made his way over to the wagon. Cortez approached the bunkhouse as Barrett saw Nick give Heath an envelope and watched the dark cowboy's hand moving as he explained something.

"Pete, hey Pete. Getta move on," Barrett warned.

Sinclair finished his coffee and the remains of his breakfast and hurried out the door. Joining his partner, he watched cautiously as Nick headed their way. He handed an object to Barrett and shoved him back inside the doorway.

"Get movin', you ain't got much time."

Barrett nodded and made his way through the bunkhouse and out the back door. Heath was in the barn and Barrett worked quickly. He sneaked between the wagon and the side of the building, unseen to any passersby. He poured half of the contents of the canteen out and carefully measured one capful of the liquid in the bottle given him by Sinclair. After pouring the liquid in the canteen, he carefully screwed the top on and placed it back on the seat. He reached inside his shirt and pulled out the empty whiskey bottle, placing it carefully under the seat. Just then, he heard whistling and moved around the back end of the building just as the blond cowboy emerged and climbed onto the rig. Barrett grinned as the wagon pulled out.

He rejoined Sinclair by the bunkhouse as Nick picked out several men to accompany him to the watering lines. There they would await Heath's arrival with the irrigation pumps.

Rico watched from a few feet away as Barrett and Sinclair whispered and laughed. He followed their gaze to where Heath's form was barely visible going down the road to town. Turning back, he scowled, he had a bad feeling inside that they were up to no good. As if they could sense what he was thinking, the two approached the watchful boy. Barrett draped an arm around the lad, while Sinclair stood in front of him.

"I don't like that look you gave me, Cortez, and so I'm warning you. You keep that mouth of yours shut or you'll end up stretching that pretty neck of yours, you got it?"

Rico struggled to break Barrett's viselike grip, as Barrett leaned in. Gripping the boy's face, he whispered in his ear.

"Sure would be a shame if that pretty face of yours got carved up with a knife. That is if we don't send you back to Mexico where they're still looking for you. Now you get to that fenceline."

Rico's frantic eyes gave him away and Sinclair nodded. Barrett was right, the kid was running from the law. Rico broke free and ran to his horse, their laughter trailing him. He rode off feeling ashamed. He was a coward and it made him feel sick inside. Heath was the only friend he had, and someone Rico trusted. He knew those two had done something bad, but he couldn't afford to go back. He reached the fenceline and threw himself into his work, trying to forget his heavy heart.

"Mr. Barkley, you better get going. It's nearly ten o'clock ."

"Thank you, Katherine," Jarrod replied without looking up.

He carefully selected the files, folders and documentation to go in his valise. Today was the day the jury would be selected for the Weber trial. Cal Weber had been arrested for manslaughter. He was a local farmer who had a disagreement with a hired harvest hand, and the ensuing battle resulted in the worker's death.

"I'm sorry, you can't go in there. He's busy."

Jarrod looked up as his flushed secretary tried to block someone from entering. The voice caught his ear just as the familiar fair hair and wide smile did.

"Morning, Counselor."

"Good Morning, Roger. What brings you in here today?"

"I heard rumors that Jordan has another plan up his sleeve. I was wondering if you had an update on the situation with the Railroad. It's been a few weeks since that mess at Sample's farm. So, what's the latest? The people want to know."

Jarrod smiled at the reporter's last statement. He'd known Roger since his days at Berkley. Jarrod had gone on to Law School, and Roger had moved to the city by the Bay to work at The Chronicle. His wife was from Stockton, so when the job of assistant editor was available, he grabbed it. Jarrod liked Roger Burke. He was fair, honest and could be trusted.

"So the people want to know, eh, old friend?" Jarrod teased the reporter as he walked towards the door.

"Are you going to fight back? A small band of brave souls against the mighty railroad," Burke guessed.

"Come on, walk with me. How've you been, Roger? How are Amelia and the girls?"

"They're all fine, and stop sidestepping."

Jarrod laughed and the two talked about the issues at hand as they made their way up the street. Turning the corner across the street from the courthouse, Burke watched as Jarrod stopped and waved to a wagon passing by. The driver was a young man, twenty-one or twenty-two with blond hair and a winning smile.

"Heath, slow down a minute," Jarrod called.

Roger followed his friend over and nodded at the name. So this was the half-brother that had moved in several weeks back. Remembering that he had been there when the farmers stood against the railroad, this young man stood tall in Roger's eyes. For a stranger to come in and stand up for a cause that he had no stake in took some guts.

"Can I have a look?" Jarrod asked, approaching the wagon.

"Sure. They're fine, I checked each one myself. You sure outdid yourself, Jarrod."

"I only sent a few telegrams, Heath. Luck did the rest."

Jarrod saw Roger eyeing his brother and pulled him over.

"Heath, this is Roger Burke, an old friend and reporter for the Stockton Eagle. Roger, this is my brother, Heath."

"How you doing, Heath? Good to meet you," Roger boomed, extending his hand.

Jarrod and Roger exchanged a glance as Heath hesitated at Roger's gregarious greeting. Jarrod felt embarrassed that Heath should have to feel strange that someone would extend him a warm greeting. Some of the people in town had been civil, but some had been downright hostile. Jarrod realized his youngest brother had gone through most of his life looking up to averted glances. It wasn't right, and all the right words wouldn't fix the small minds of some people.

"Nice to meet you," Heath said, finally shaking the extended hand. "Well, I best be goin'. Nick's gonna skin me alive if I'm late. It don't take much to set him off. See you at dinner, Jarrod."

"Have a good day, Heath," He replied patting the younger man's arm.

They walked in silence for a few minutes before they entered the courthouse.

"How's it going, Jarrod? I mean is the kid settling in okay? He seems awfully jumpy."

"You'd be jumpy too, Roger, if you spent most of your life fighting against bigotry. He's had a real uphill battle most of the way. I've been so tied up with this trial that I've been neglecting him."

"And the rest of the family?" Roger asked as the two entered Courtroom B.

"Mother accepted him from the start, and without hesitation. Audra, she opened her heart to him right off, and so far, she's the only one he seems comfortable with. They've begun to bond," Jarrod said, placing his valise on the defense table.

"And Nick?"

"Nick. Well, Roger, Nick's in a tough position. He's resisting any attempt at accepting Heath. He's been very hostile, and they've had far too many fights. They're both so bullheaded and that's led to many battles. Nick's fighting the wrong battle and I hope he joins the right side before it's too late."

"Too late?" Roger asked.

"I've got to find time to talk to Heath. Somewhere inside that angry, brooding exterior is an intelligent, courageous young man whom I'd like to get to know. If Nick doesn't rectify his mistake, I'm afraid we're going to lose Heath."

"You think he'll bolt?"

"I hope not, Roger. The more I see him, the more I realize what a perfect fit he is for Nick and the ranch. Problem is, Nick is blinded to seeing Heath in the light of truth. He's so angry at my father that he's lashing out and Heath is his prime target," Jarrod concluded as the gavel brought the rest of the occupants of the room to their feet.

Heath slowed the team down and drew them to a stop. He wiped his brow with his sleeve as the unrelenting sun beat down on his sweat-soaked back. It was just after eleven in the morning and he was less than an hour from the job site. He reached for the canteen and frowned as he shook it. It wasn't full. He thought for sure he'd filled it before he left. He took several long gulps and drained the container. Urging the team onward, he turned off the main road and headed for The Applegate Turnoff, a shortcut.

He was only about a mile or so onto the turnoff, when he began to yawn. He shook his head and blinked his eyes, trying to combat the fatigue that had descended upon him. His head dropped and banged against his chest, and the team went off to the side. Jerking himself awake, he pulled the horses in and rubbed his face. He looked up at the sun and strained to think of a reason why he might be so very tired. He looked over at the canteen on the other side of the wagon and reached for it. Lying on the seat, his eyes became too heavy to support. Within minutes, he was sound asleep.

His mouth was on fire and his throat felt like it was being roasted. So much that he fell into a coughing fit that woke him up. He opened his eyes and squinted up to the afternoon sun. He knew by it's location that it was well after noontime. He sat up and the road spun before him. Placing his clammy face in his hands, he felt his stomach turning. He jumped off the wagon and fell to his knees. Crawling to the side of the road, he lost the small contents of his stomach and then just heaved air. Gasping for breath and wincing against the painful stitch in his side, he reached for his watch. It was after two. Nick would be livid.

Heath's shaky legs got him back onto the wagon and he urged the team onward. He hadn't even remembered falling asleep. It wasn't like him to nod off during the day unless he was sick. He had no explanation to give Nick and he knew his brother would be spitting nails.

The men stood in groups of two's and three's, shaking their heads and thanking God they weren't in Heath's shoes. Nick was on the warpath, pacing like a caged tiger and cursing like a sailor. The brown shirt that had become his trademark, was soaked in sweat as he scowled.

"Where the hell is he? It's after two o'clock. He should've been here hours ago." Nick fumed.

"Maybe the wagon broke down," a voice called out.

"Yeah, or maybe the train was late," another offered.

"I don't want maybes, I want them pumps! I want answers! He better have a damn good excuse for this," Nick swore as two riders rode up.

"Well?" Nick squinted up to them, a hand over his eyes

"Sorry, Boss, didn't find him. We rode clear into town and back. No sign of him. The clerk at the rail depot said he left just after ten this morning."

"You followed the main road all the way?" McCall asked from Nick's right.

"Yes, Sir. Straight from town to here. I sure hope he didn't get hurt or have an accident."

Nick frowned. He'd never thought of that. Just as quickly as the feeling entered his gut, it left.

"I saw that, Nick, " McCall said. "It's about time you started feeling something towards him. I'm amazed you haven't hurt your neck looking the other way, while them big mouths beat on him."

"I'm no ogre, McCall. Of course I don't want anything to have happened to him. He's a big boy. He' don't need me to wipe his nose. He can take care of himself. I can attest to that first hand," Nick snarled.

McCall shook his head as the furious Barkley walked away. It wasn't like Nick to be so one-sided, but then he'd never had his father's image tarnished before. McCall had been working on the ranch over twenty-five years and had seen Nick Barkley raised by Tom's side. He idolized his father and when Heath had appeared, it had shaken Nick's world. McCall liked Heath, but it was only in the last few days that he'd begun to talk to him. McCall had watched the boy work hard over these past weeks, long into the night many times to appease his angry brother. He never complained about getting the short straw. Funny thing was, deep down he had a feeling Heath wanted desperately for Nick to accept him.

"Nick, you're too hard on that boy. He's worked like a dog from the day he got here and you've not once given him so much as a pat on the back. It's not like you to be so..."

"What McCall? Finish it. You think I'm being too hard on him. He waltzes in here with no proof of what he's claimin' and 'poof', I've got a new brother. All his hard work won't change his blood. He's no brother of mine and as long as he's claimin' to be, I'm standin' my ground," Nick issued loudly.

"You're wrong, Nick. I'm afraid you going to realize too late how very wrong you are," McCall said sternly.

"Nick, you think maybe he took Applegate Turnoff?" Charlie, one of the hands, asked.

"He could have," Nick fumed. "Or he could be halfway out of the state with some very expensive machinery."

"He's coming!" a voice cried.

Nick swiveled as the wagon made it's way up the road. He stormed up to meet it and hauled the weary form out of it's seat. Throwing Heath against the side of the wagon, Nick grabbed his collar and inched his face in close.

"Where the hell have you been? Do you know what time it is? Let me refresh you...it's after two p.m.! You've kept all these men waiting for hours in the hot sun. You know we can't afford to lose a minute in this heat. We needed those pumps up and running by sundown. Well? I want an explanation, Boy, and I want it now!"

Heath tried hard to concentrate on Nick's words. Nick had every right to be upset, but Heath couldn't tell him something he didn't know himself. His mouth was dry and hot and his head was spinning. He felt his legs quaking and tried to form words, but his confused state of mind couldn't produce any.

"I'm...sorry...I...it...thirsty...," he croaked as his legs gave way and his eyes closed.

"YOU"RE SORRY! That's the best you can do!" Nick growled.

Nick felt McCAll pull him away as Heath's knees buckled and he slid down to a sitting position on the ground, leaning against the front wheel. McCall put a seasoned hand against the throat and forehead. He tapped the face lightly.

"Heath? Heath wake up."

"Water...," was the rasped response.

Nick bent over the wagon seat to get Heath's canteen. As he picked it up, he realized it was empty, or Heath wouldn't be so thirsty.

"Get him some water," he ordered to a hand near by, handing him the canteen.

As he turned, the hot sun glinted off something under the seat. Frowning, he pulled it out and spun around with fire in his eyes.

Heath heard the growl and looked up, startled, as Nick hauled him to his feet.

"Nick, you got every right to be sore, but..."

Heath never finished his sentence. Nick didn't remember pulling Heath up or the volley of punches that sent the weary man into the irrigation pond nearby. The choke hold kept the sputtering man under the water. Finally, the red wall rose from this vision and the roar in his ears dimmed as several of the men pulled him off Heath.

"That's enough! You cool down!" McCall advised sternly to Nick.

Turning back, he handed Heath the canteen and urged him to drink. Heath took several long gulps and rose to his feet. McCall helped him up and Heath shook off his aid.

"I'm fine, now. I don't know what happened," he implored.

"I'll tell you what happened," Nick furied as he stormed over to the wagon. "this is what happened."

The bottle sailed through the air and landed at Heath's feet. Heath bent down and picked it up, raising his eyebrows at the label.

"Nick, this ain't mine. I know it' looks bad, but you gotta believe me. I ..."

"What I believe is that while all these good men stood around like sheep in this heat, you were out gettin' soused. That's why you took Applegate Turnoff...so nobody'd see you," Nick said as he shoved Heath hard.

"I told you, that ain't my bottle. I don't drink when I'm working...not today, not ever. I wouldn't do that to you, these men or this ranch," Heath glared as he stood inches from his brother.

"You're a no-good drunk is what you are...thirsty, stumbling all over the place, passing out. I'm gonna wipe the floor with you, Boy. Your little party cost us big. Every lost minute of water, them peaches were dryin' out," Nick launched as he threw a left hook.

Heath dodged the blow and McCall stepped between them.

"I want an explanation, Heath, and I want it now. Where the devil were you all that time?"

The only answer Nick got was a steely glare.

"Answer me, you no good whelp," Nick growled, as McCall strong-armed him.

"That' enough, Nick! Heath, you and those men get them pumps hooked up," McCall ordered to a group near the wagon." The rest of you get to those pipes. Let's move, we've already lost too much time."

Nick pulled and thrashed against the large foreman.

"Let me go! I ain't done with him yet. I can't believe you're falling for that pack of lies. You're on his side?"

"Somebody has to be, Nick," McCall said with disdain as he released the hot cowboy and joined the five men by the pumps.

Nick brushed his hair aside and took the empty bottle to his saddlebag. Grabbing his canteen, he took a long swig and poured some water over his face. Replacing the cap, he watched as Heath gave directives to how the pumps were to be set up. The men nodded and carried out their tasks. Was McCall right? Was he being too hard?

It was past six-thirty in the evening and the sun would set soon. The men were beat, working long hours in the excessive heat had wearied them. They'd worked exceptionally fast and caught up. The lines were set and the pumps turned on. Nick whistled to get their attention. Jumping on the back of the wagon, they formed a circle as he spoke.

"I want you to know what a great job you've all done today, despite the....problem we had," he said eyeing Heath. "You'll all get a bonus. Perkins, you and your crew will report here tomorrow. Okay, that's it. Great job! Go on, now, and get some chow."

As the murmuring hands made their way back to their horses, Nick dropped back down to the ground. He grabbed Heath's shoulder as the weary cowboy walked by.

"Not so fast, Heath. You're stayin'. Those orders don't apply to you."

"But Nick...," Heath started, stopping when he saw the determined look.

"You created the delay...you're staying. The engineer said them pumps have to be monitored for several hours after they start up. I'll take the wagon in, you keep Cocoa here. You use that lantern and ride up and down every row. You keep a constant check on them lines. You think you can handle that?" Nick said sharply.

Heath walked past him without a word and grabbed the lantern. As he approached Cocoa, McCall stopped him.

"Heath, I'll do it. You go on home. You're beat and you haven't had a bite to eat all day. Go on, now."

Heath looked over at the silver haired man and smiled wanly. Taking a long drink from Nick's canteen, he shook his head.

"Thanks, McCall...and I really mean that. He's right. It's my fault and I got to pay the penalty."

"What happened to you, Son? Did you get sick or something?"

"I honestly don't know. One minute I was fine, and the next thing I knew, I woke up and it was two o'clock."

McCall looked at the soulful eyes, so much like his father's. Eyes that could never lie. He squeezed the blue shirt, now damp with sweat and tried to be reassuring.

"I'm sorry for this, Heath. I believe you, and I got a hunch I know who's behind it."

Heath looked up startled as McCall finished.

"Despite what Nick thinks, I've never liked Barrett or Sinclair. They do their share, but they're shifty. I've warned Nick about them. I'm in your corner, Boy. You just call if you need an ear, okay?"

"Okay, thanks for sticking up for me today. I'm not used to... well it just felt good for a change."

McCall understood, perhaps too well. He patted the shoulder and walked to his horse. He looked back, and from the angle of the setting sun, the cock of the head and the gait of the young man, he'd swear it was Tom Barkley, himself, riding off.

Nick ran a hand through his damp hair and buttoned the clean shirt. Arriving at the dinner table, he jumped into his seat and looked around.

"Sorry I'm late," he muttered as he placed the napkin on his lap. "We had a real setback today."

"That's okay, Nick, I was late too. Did you get the pumps hooked up?"

"Yeah, they're up and running, but they didn't arrive until after two o'clock this afternoon."

"Two in the afternoon? What happened? Did Heath have a problem with the wagon?" Victoria asked, concerned.

"Yeah, he had a problem all right. He got drunk and left me and those men standin' for hours in the heat while them peaches dried up!"

"Drunk! Nick, that's ridiculous. Heath would never..." Audra's voice was abruptly cut off by her less than congenial brother.

"He would and he did, Little Sister. Fell outta the wagon, legs all shaky, thirsty, stuttering. You shoud've seen him," Nick fumed.

"Is he upstairs? Did he go right to bed? " Jarrod asked.

"No, he's monitoring the pumps. He probably won't be back until after ten," Nick defied.

"Alone? Nick that's a whole lot of ground to cover. He's been working in the sun all day, possibly ill, and with no food. Brilliant idea, Nick, really inspired," Jarrod glared.

"He caused it, he fixes it...that's the way it works. Same as any other hand," Nick shouted.

"That's enough, both of you," Victoria admonished. "He's not just another hand, he's your brother and Jarrod is absolutely right. To leave him out there in those circumstances was cruel, Nick. As far as him being drunk, I don't believe it.

"There must be some other explanation. What did he say," Jarrod asked.

"Nothing. Just stood there, staring at me, stuttering. What held you up, anyway?" Nick tallied.

"The sheriff. He stopped by the courthouse as I was leaving. There was a robbery this afternoon."

"A robbery in town? Was it the bank?" Victoria queried.

"No, it was outside of town, over by The Applegate Turnoff...the Royce ranch. Fred's got some clues, but very few, I'm afraid. He surmised it took place sometime early this afternoon. They were very precise...real pros. They had it timed to the minute. They only took merchandise high on resale in the black market."

"Was Jim there? Was he hurt?" Victoria asked of the sixty year old widower.

"No, Mother, he was out. That's what I meant by precise timing. They must've had it planned like that."

The wheels in Nick's mind where spinning and out of control. Applegate Turnoff, the early afternoon hours, and that bold refusal of an explanation. Heath was guilty all right, and that bottle just proved it. Jarrod saw Nick's face darken and watched in surprise as his angry brother jumped up and threw down his napkin, disgust written on his dark face.

"I knew it. I warned you all, but you wouldn't listen, and now Jim Royce paid the price. Took him in like he was one of the family, without so much as a shred of evidence." Nick paced around the room smacking his fist into his hand. "Poor little bastard boy without a father. Nothing but a no-good mongrel."

"Nick! I won't have you use that..." Victoria started to admonish but was cut off.

"You call him what you want, but it won't change what he is. A no-good impostor. He's somebody's bastard, but not my father's. And you!" he ranted, slamming his hand down, causing Jarrod's silver to jump. "What was it you said? Oh, yes, 'dime novel suspicions'. He had you all fooled, but not me."

"Nick, what is wrong with you? Settle down now! I want an explanation." Jarrod stood and glared at his hotheaded brother.

"He arrived just close to two-thirty, stuporous, stuttering, couldn't walk, eyes bleary. He was drunk, Jarred. Came in from Applegate Turnoff and guess what rolled out from under his front seat? An empty bottle of whiskey! He robbed the place and then sat down and had himself a nice little party. I'm going to turn him in to Fred right now."

"You'll sit down this minute, Nick," Victoria said sharply, walking to Nick's side.

"Why are you defending him? He's not your son. He's a no good bas..."

She cut his answer short with a sharp slap to his face. The sound rebounded around the room and fell short of where they stood. She glared at him and spoke severely.

"I will say this one time only, Nicholas, so listen carefully. That boy is Heath Barkley, your brother, whether you like it or not. Your father was in Strawberry for over three months. Heath was born nine months later. You won't see him for what he is because if you do, that means that somehow you'll think your father was less of the man you've thought him to be."

He tried to turn away, his expression bearing the pain her words had triggered deep inside his heart. Her small hands reached up and took his face. She looked deeply into those hazel eyes and implored.

"Nick, your father didn't abandon you. He was a man with just as many imperfections as any other. You can't look at him as marble. He was flesh and blood... not infallible. He was a great man, and gave me three fine sons.

"Three? He ain't yours," Nick shouted.

"Yes, he is. As much as you and Jarrod. There is so much of your father in him. All you have to do is look. He's your brother, and he needs you. He had no father. If anyone has the right to be angry, it should be him. He was the one who was deserted, not you. You had a firm hand to raise and teach you...he didn't."

"He's guilty, you're all wrong," Nick said, turning away, but Victoria snagged the arm.

"You listen to me," she directed at Nick, but looked sternly at her other two children as well. "Heath isn't here to defend himself and you will drop this whole ridiculous speculation. I won't have this matter discussed any further. It ends right here, and now! Do I make myself clear, Nick?"

She stared sternly into the hazel-eyed scowl and the firm grip on his forearms told him she meant every word. His face relaxed and she felt the tension in the bicep ease. He looked at Jarrod and back to her and nodded.

"I've got some work to do. Please excuse me," he said rather calmly as he turned and left.