Jarrod entered the dining room first, despite needing a shave and craving a hot bath. His mother, brother and sister were already eating. He nodded gratefully as Silas poured him some coffee.

"How is he?" Victoria asked.

"Was he hurt?" Audra implored, eyes wide.

"He's fine. He was drugged and then clubbed at the Miller place. The doctor gave him something to settle his stomach. He should sleep all morning. I'm going back later when Mrs. Miller gives her statement. Hopefully he'll be released then."

"So there are no charges against him?" Victoria inquired.

"He's still a suspect until Bill's wife clears him. She was hurt pretty bad and only made a brief statement that Heath saved her life. Fred is pretty sure she'll be able to clear Heath and perhaps have a description of the assailants."

"Then somebody set him up? Who would do such a thing?" Audra wondered indignantly.

Jarrod almost chuckled at her naivety.

"Honey, Heath's coming here, making his parentage known and staking his claim has upset a lot of people in this town. It's bad enough that they bad mouth him, but to use him for such a vile act...well, that takes an animal of a different breed. Heath has a pretty good idea of who's behind it, but we've got no proof."

Jarrod noticed Nick's eyes shifting. He doused his coffee with sugar and waited, eyeing his brother as he scowled.

"Jarrod, what's the name of that expensive whiskey Royce imports?" Nick inquired.

"Uh...I think it's..."

"Glencairn Gold?" Nick answered his own question.

"Yes, Nick, that's it, why?

"Glencairn Gold! You know as well as I do that Royce is the only one in this area that stocks that brand."

"What does that have to do with Heath?" Jarrod pondered.

"That's the bottle I found in the wagon the day Heath was late with the pumps," Nick answered.

"Nick, why didn't you say that before?" Victoria asked.

"I didn't look at the bottle. I put in my saddle bag and forgot about it. I must have tossed it in the barn before I left for roundup. I noticed it last night when I was brushin' down Coco. It's still out there in the corner of the stall."

"It would appear Sinclair and Barrett have been busy. It's a wonder that they can keep up with their ranch duties. It would appear Heath and that young boy...," Jarrod paused.

"Cortez," Nick added, sourly.

"...have been pulling more than their share. So tell me, Nick, when Heath came to you before, why is it you didn't give him the benefit of the doubt? Why did you, instead, choose to believe Sinclair's and Barrett's lies?"

Nick didn't answer. His face said more than enough.

"I don't know. Sinclair's been here three years. I know him. He's never been a problem. Barrett's always kept his nose clean. Heath and me got off on the wrong foot and it just seemed to get worse. I can't help it, I just get so riled up at him."

"Look, Nick...,"

"I was wrong! Is that what you want to hear?" Nick shouted, rising and tossing his napkin to the floor.

"That's a start. Nick, he thought he'd been arrested because he'd killed you in a fight...,"

"What! How could he think that?" Nick pained.

"He was in agony, Nick. I wish you could have seen the lost look in his eyes. For a few horrid seconds he thought he'd killed his own brother. Someone should make amends before it's too late."

Roger entered the sheriff's office just after ten a.m. Fred was out and Billy was going through a new batch of wanted posters. He looked up as Roger approached.

"What can I do for you?"

"I want to see Heath Barkley"

"Well...I guess it's okay."

He took the keys from the wall and led the reporter to the cell. Heath had already washed and shaved, and was just finishing getting dressed. He nodded at Roger through the bars.

"You up to company, Barkley?" Billy asked.

Heath nodded and the deputy let Roger inside. He waited until Billy was gone and then sat down on the edge of the bunk.

"Sure didn't expect to see you here."

"Heath, I've been researching the other robberies that fit the same pattern. I think we can help each other. You tell me everything from the day your trouble started, and with what I have here," he said patting the legal tablet, "I think we just may put a crack in this case."

It was almost one p.m. when Jarrod and Nick arrived at the sheriff's office. Nick hadn't said much on the ride out and Jarrod suspected he was feeling guilty. Billy looked up when they came in.

"Jarred! Nick! What are you doing here?"

"We were out for a stroll and decided to stop in for tea." Nick's sarcastic voice had a nasty edge.

"Nick!" Jarrod chastised. "We came to take Heath home. Fred sent word that Mrs. Miller cleared him."

"Yeah, she did. She gave a long statement and described them bandits. Heath was a hero. I told him how sorry I was for thinkin' poorly of him."

"That's all fine and good, Billy. Can he go now?" Nick's impatience was showing.

"He's gone."

"Gone? Gone where? When?" Jarrod said, peeking into the empty cell.

"He left a couple hours ago...soon as the statement came in. I couldn't hold him anymore. He's no minor. He was free to go and he did."

"Where could he be?" Nick said to Jarrod.

"I don't know Nick, but I hope he's not issuing a one man campaign to bring that gang in. They're cold blooded murderers," Jarrod worried.

It was after midnight when Jarrod finally left his study. He stayed up late working, hoping Heath would return home. He and Nick had spent several hours searching the ranch and surrounding area. Nick had even sent some hands out, but no luck. Barrett and Sinclair were missing, too, not that either brother was surprised. He turned the lamp off and headed for the stairs.

He found it difficult to sleep and the clock ticking seemed to become louder as the time passed. Exhaustion finally overtook him and he was asleep when the figure crept down the hall. Keeping in the shadows with stealthy precision, he had one goal in mind, and wouldn't be deterred. He opened the door and entered the room quietly.

"He's gone," Audra said tearfully as she entered the dining room.

"I'm sure we'll find him, Honey. Maybe he just needed some time to think. He's been through a lot these past weeks and ...," Jarrod tried.

"No, you don't understand...he's packed his things. He's gone and it's all your fault!" she accused Nick

"My fault! Now hold on a minute. He's just as stubborn as me. That mangy, horse of his ruinin' everything was just the icing on the cake. Let me tell you something, Little Sister! If he wasn't hiding anything he wouldn't have a reason to run," Nick challenged.

"That's enough, both of you!" Victoria interrupted sharply.

"Audra are you sure?" Jarrod asked.

"Yes, I was just in his room. The closet was open with some shirts missing. His drawers have some personal items missing and the picture is gone."

"What picture?" Nick asked.

"The picture he had on his bedstand of his mother," Audra finished.

"Nick and I will try to find him. It could be that he just needed some time to think. He's not a quitter. He fought hard to find his place here."

"Jarrod's right, Audra. Heath has been under a lot of pressure. Maybe he felt the walls closing in, especially after spending a night in jail, and with what he went through," Victoria added.

"Or maybe he's gone forever because Nick chased him away. He was so special. None of you took the time to see how gentle and kind he was...how much he needed to be loved. I hate you!" Audra cried, glaring at Nick and bursting into tears as she ran from the room.

Jarrod stood up to go after her, but Victoria motioned for him to remain.

"You finish your breakfast. She's upset. I'll go up and talk to her."

The two brothers sat in silence, Jarrod eyeing Nick until the younger man broke the tension.

"Well, go ahead, say it...'I told you so'," Nick said sarcastically.

"Nick, I wasn't going to say that, but Audra had a good point. She's been the one person he's turned to...even opened up to...perhaps because she accepted him unconditionally. I don't think Heath has fled the family. I think he's hurt and needs some space. I only hope that's all it is and he's not out there playing vigilante. "

Nick finished his meal and stood, approaching the back door.

"I'll get some men and search the area...and I hope he's sitting there come dinner," Nick said, nodding to the empty space.

"Jarrod, got a minute?"

Jarrod looked up from his file cabinet and saw Roger's head in the doorway.

"Come on in," he said, distracted.

Roger waited several minutes and saw how drawn Jarrod was and that his eyes weren't as bright.

"You okay?"

"Not really. Heath's disappeared. When we arrived at the jail yesterday, Heath was gone. I knew he was upset and thought he'd wanted some time to himself. But he didn't come home until sometime during the night. Some of his things were gone when we awoke this morning. I only hope he's getting himself squared away and not playing lawman. Or worse, that's he's left us forever."

Jarrod looked up and saw something on his friend's face that he didn't like. Roger's face was an open book...one that Jarrod could easily read.

"You're hiding something," the lawyer said as he walked over to the leather wing chair where the reporter sat.

"I didn't think he'd bolt this fast. He didn't seem that upset."

"What are you talking about? Have you seen Heath?"

"Yeah, yesterday morning. After you left, I spent a couple of hours doing research. I found a string of robberies over the past couple of years in the surrounding area. Some further off and as far back as five years. Anyhow, I went to see Heath to find out if he could add anything. We talked for about forty-five minutes. He had some kind of idea some of your ranch hands are tied into this gang. He thinks they set him up to take the fall. Honestly, Jarrod, I didn't think he'd do anything so impulsive. I told him I was meeting with you today and I thought he'd talk to you about it."

"Why didn't you come to the house yesterday?" Jarrod queried.

"I didn't have time. I had a meeting in San Francisco and didn't get home until late. I'm sorry, Jarrod."

"What is it that you told Heath?"

"I had a talk with the sheriff this morning about my hunch. He's gonna check with the law in those towns that were hit. These are my notes if you want to read them. I'm going over to the Miller place to see if I can dig anything up."

"Let me know if you find anything, Roger."

"Will do, Jarrod."

He stopped at the door as Jarrod called out, "Roger?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful, okay?"

"I'll keep an eye out. Thanks, Buddy."

Heath finished the rest of the beans and pork and cleaned the plate and utensils in the stream. Packing his gear, he rode Charger onward until he spotted the line shack. It wasn't the one that he'd seen before, and judging by the distance it was from the ranch, wasn't used very often. He was pleased when he poked his head inside. It would suit his needs perfectly.

He unloaded the tins of food, coffee, bread, and other items he'd brought from the ranch. He lit the stove and made some coffee, pondering his next move. Sipping the strong brew, he went over the mental list of tasks ahead of him. Roger's clues had been helpful and his first job was to stake-out Sinclair and Barrett after hours. From what he remembered and from what Cortez told him, the two varmints usually disappeared twice a week from eight until eleven. Tonight was one of those nights and Heath would trail them.

He couldn't risk Sinclair, Barrett or any of the gang he suspected they were running with, hurting Audra or Mrs. Barkley. If everyone thought he'd gone, his chances were much better. He hated hurting them. He knew Audra would be upset, but there was no other way. He thought on Jarrod's words in the jail, and felt for the first time how good it was to have a brother, someone bonded by love and blood, to lean on. He decided to get some rest. It might be a long night.

"Where's that so-called brother of yours?" Barrett asked Nick.

"None of your business. I ain't payin' you to stand around gossipin'. Get on that horse and get to them peaches."

As the pair rode off, Cortez stood uncertainly on the porch. He had heard that Heath had been arrested and then let go. He had also heard Nick tell McCall that the blond cowboy had packed his gear. McCall hadn't said a word, but his angry eyes bore deep into Nick's.

"Senor Nick?"

"Yeah?" Nick turned and saw the Mexican kid standing on the porch.

Nick knew how close the boy had been to Heath and had seen the positive effect his brother had on the lad. He was more confident, steady and sure-footed. He had grown by leaps and bounds as far as his duties were concerned, and was quickly becoming a top hand.

"Is it true? Did he leave?"

"I don't know, Rico. I hope not. Could be he just needs a few days to think over what happened. You ride with Watson till he gets back."

"Yes, Sir," the dejected boy said.

"Cortez, hold up a minute," Nick called

"Sir?" the boy asked, perplexed.

Nick threw a hand over his slim shoulder and walked with him to his horse.

"You're doin' a great job. You' really showed me some stuff on that roundup. You keep it up, so as you can brag to Heath when he comes back, okay?"

"Si, Senior, gracias," Rico grinned as the older man ruffled his hair.

He rode off and looked back as Nick barked orders to the dozen or so hands gathered around him. The dark cowboy still cast a big shadow, but Rico thought perhaps his bark was worse than his bite. He urged his horse onward, catching up to Alan Watson.

Heath hid in the brush and watched as the two rode by him. Allowing a safe distance, he followed cautiously as the pair rode for a few miles, and then turned off. Heath followed them as they made their way up to a large house. He saw them greet several other men, one whose face was all too familiar. He remembered through the thick smoke at the Miller place, seeing that scarred face and eye patch leering at him from above.

He waited until they entered the house and crept closer. The house was dark and Heath skirted the perimeter, not able to gain entry. The windows were closed and locked and the curtains drawn. He made his way back to his horse and waited. The meeting didn't last long. It was only an hour later when Sinclair and Barrett emerged. Laughing and carrying on, their voices carried over the yard.

"Sweet pickin's, that's what it'll be. Revenge on them high-falutin' landowners. They won't be looking down at us no more," Barrett smirked.

"He sure is smart. Boy, he has everything planned out to the letter. He's living proof that crime does pay. That house is mighty fetchin'."

"Yeah, wait till he gets that prissy blond in there. He'll sure have a good time squirin' her around."

"What about Barkley? What are we going to do now that we can't use him no more?"

"Yeah, shame about the bastard skipping out. I wasn't done havin' my fun with him," Sinclair added ruefully.

"Where did you get that stuff, anyway?" Barrett asked.

"A long time ago. I had the good fortune of being in the right place at the right time... a cat house called the Golden Slipper on the Barbery Coast. Some fella got carried away and tried to carve up one of the girls and then the owner. I saved them. Madame Louise was exceptionally beautiful and grateful. This stuff is how they lure the wealthier ones into blackmail money. Anyhow, it's saved me on more than one occasion. Never had so much fun with it before. Just a few drops and 'wham'...that bastard dropped like a sack of grain."

It took all of Heath's strength not to leap out and pound the two of them into kingdom come, but they were only the small pegs. The mastermind was the owner of the mansion, and Heath had a sinking suspicion he knew who it was. He rode back to the shack and made plans to stake the house out for a couple of days...then he'd make his move.

"Are you ready, Lovely Lady?" Jarrod asked from behind the desk in his office as Victoria returned from freshening up.

"Yes, I think so."

"Good! That train won't wait," Jarrod exclaimed as he placed the last of his documents into a briefcase. "And I'm sorry to say, neither will that stockholders' meeting in Frisco this afternoon. Here," he added, stepping from behind his desk, "let me help you with that bag."

"I've got it," Victoria replied. "It's not heavy and you have your hands full already." She hesitated a moment and then addressed her son. "Jarrod, do you think it's wise for us to leave right now? With Heath being gone, robberies and everything else that's been going on around here...perhaps we should stay."

"There's nothing I'd like more," Jarrod agreed, "but with us being major shareholders, I think it's vital that we attend this meeting. Besides, what can happen between now and tomorrow afternoon? Heath's been gone three days now. One more day shouldn't make much difference. If anything comes up, Nick and Audra know where to wire us."

"Oh, I guess I'm just playing the part of the overly-concerned mother. It's just that Nick is...well...still so angry. He's convinced himself that Heath is guilty and that his absence only proves it. I only hope that if the two of them meet up that he won't do anything that he'll regret later."

"I know that Nick can be rather hardheaded at times, Mother, but he's a grown man. We can't stand around and molly-coddle him twenty-four hours a day. We're just going to have to trust that if and when the moment of their meeting arrives, that Nick will use good judgment. Anyway, it's Heath that I'm really worried about. I think he's playing a dangerous game and one where he might not necessarily come out the winner. Fred is aware of what's going on. We'll just have to leave things in his capable hands while we're gone. Now, come along, Dear Lady, we have a train to catch."

Heath watched carefully as the owner left the mansion. He'd spent the last three days trailing Sinclair, Barrett and the rest of the pack. The mastermind was a man of precision, and Heath knew he'd only have an hour or so until he returned. It was still hard for him to comprehend what the connection could be. Was the gang blackmailing him somehow?

Heath crept onto the side porch and in through the French doors. The house was undergoing changes and the owner was it's only occupant. He glanced around the ivory walls and at the elegant fixtures in what must be a music room. He made his way into a large formal hall accented by a black and white tile floor. Pausing, he reflected on his choice. Going to Fred without proof would only spook the gang and he couldn't risk endangering the family.

He peeked through several doors and saw a dining room, large and gracefully done, a well-stocked pantry, a nicely appointed kitchen and finally a study. Skirting the perimeter with his keen eyes, he spotted a large mahogany desk. Making his way over to the massive piece, he saw house diagrams. Opening them up, he was surprised to see it was the downstairs of the home that had become so recently his own.

"What the devil do they have planned?" he thought aloud.

He saw the maps, lists and other documents on the table. He scanned the maps and recognized the Miller and Royce properties. He glanced at the train schedule with dates circled. There was an inventory list that contained most of the items missing from the two homes. Meeting points and times in nearby towns were also noted...for the buyers of the hot property, no doubt. He went back again to the rough drawing of the Barkley mansion. A paperweight was sitting on the sketched study. He thought for moment and saw on the side of the rough sketch the number 'twelve' written in pencil. Twelve what? He looked at the carefully marked details in the study and his finger paused on the wall safe. Twelve o'clock? Twelve of something. His light eyes caught the calendar on the desk and his gaze shifted from it to the number listed.

"That must be it," he thought aloud. "Today's the ninth...they're planning something by the end of the week. Nick didn't share any of the details of the business with him so it was possible something was being put in or taken out of the safe on that date. Didn't matter what anyhow...he'd see them behind bars by then. He sat on the leather chair and mused over his choices. If he left the found information here, they might be gone by the time he got back with the law. If he took it, there would be no proof as to where it came. Or would there?

He sat up and studied the carefully printed notes, details and highlights on each document. He then saw the bills for the supplies that were needed in order to complete the restoration of the house. Smiling, he had his proof. He turned to pick up one of the receipts and a picture fell to the floor. Reaching over to pick it up, he studied it, and it finally hit him...why Elliott Carrington's face was so familiar.

"So you were guilty after all," he said to the photo of a slightly younger Elliott sporting a mustache and beard.

Two years prior, in Virginia City, a series of similar crimes had occurred. Heath had been working a small silver mine, sharing a stake with a couple of guys he knew from the army. The homes of several of the wealthier mine owners and residents had been robbed. It was the same pattern as the crimes in Stockton. Carrington had been a suspect. Two of the home owners had identified him, but then recanted their testimony at trial. He was the only member of the gang caught and had sworn his innocence. He'd lost weight and changed since then, but Heath could never forget him. He'd been on the posse that brought him in. Heath had testified against him.

A soft laugh, so very familiar to Heath, drew him back to the present. His chest filled with hot fury at the thought of that animal being anywhere near his sister. He'd put a stop to that right away. He spotted a good sized leather bag on the floor. He threw the documents, maps, and some of Elliott's private notes and correspondence into the sack. He slipped out the side as Elliott and Audra entered the front door.

"Elliott, it's beautiful. You have wonderful taste," she gushed, eyeing the palatial entryway.

"Thank you, but I feel it needs a woman's touch," he oozed, drawing her close.

"Did you have a certain woman in mind?" she asked breathlessly, her face inches from his.

His answer was a kiss. Deep and more powerful than those they had recently shared during a few stolen moments in a moonlight carriage ride. She felt a shock shoot straight to her toes. He released her and she backed up, breathless and shaken.

"I'm sorry, Audra, I just couldn't help myself. You're just so beautiful," he charmed.

"Do you really mean that?" she asked, turning to face him, her heart pounding.

He captured her in his arms and massaged the small of her back. His strong hands found the curve of her hips and his caress sent shivers through her. He was about to silence her once more when a pounding on the door chased away the idea.

"Who could that be?" she breathed.

"Somebody with terrible timing," he muttered, stepping to the doorway.

"Heath!" Audra cried, running to his arms. "Where have you been? We've been so worried? How could you just run off like that...for three days with no word?"

He pushed her behind him and shoved Elliott hard, sending him to the floor. He saw the knowledge enter the green eyes of his adversary. For one long moment the icy blue eyes cut right through Elliott Carrington. Nick Barkley has no idea how dangerous this man is, he thought.

"Heath, what's the matter with you?" she cried, running to Elliott's side.

"Get away from him, Audra!" Heath snarled.

"I will not! How dare you!"

"He ain't who you think he is. Now come on, we're leaving," he said sternly, pulling her hard.

"Let go of me! I'm not a child and you can't tell me what to do!" she argued, fighting against his strong grip.

"Get outside," he said, pushing her through the door.

He turned as Carrington stood up, then grabbed the elegantly attired man and threw him up against the wall.

"You keep your filthy hands off of her, Carrington. You don't see her, touch her or come anywhere near her. You do and it will be the last thing you do. You've got my guarantee on that. Do I make myself clear?" Heath threatened.

"So you remembered. Took you long enough. Must be that mixed blood of yours addled your brain. Don't issue idle threats, Heath. She'll be sharing my bed just about the time they hang you. I've got it all planned. She's such a tempting morsel, don't you think?"

His guttural tone was so low that only the irate cowboy could hear. Heath's fury sent the foul-mouthed impostor across the room. Blow after blow was landed until Carrington was motionless and Audra's shrill screaming and fists pounding on his chest, halted him.

"STOP IT! STOP IT AT ONCE! What have you done? How could you do this to me? He cared for me! He..."

"You don't know who he is, Audra. He's using you. He doesn't care about you, only what he can get from you. We've gotta get out of here," he said, fearing the gang would reappear at any moment.

"I'm not going anywhere with you. To think I defended you to Nick. Maybe he was right and you had us all fooled. Don't you speak to me. Just leave me alone." She urged Misty Lady, her gray mare, into a full gallop and headed for home.

Heath felt as if he'd been kicked in the gut by the fine horse. But it had to be done and for her own good. He covered the short distance to Buster and urged the steed to Stockton. He only hoped that Jarrod was still in his office...they had a lot to talk about.

Heath tied Buster to the post and went up the street. He stopped when he spotted the gold lettering identifying his brother's office. Entering the empty office, his heart fell. He retraced his steps back outside and thought on what to do. Eyeing Fred Madden's office, he took a few hesitant steps when he stopped short. What he saw hit him as hard as if he had been slammed into an invisible wall. Elliott Carrington was entering the sheriff's office...pressing charges, no doubt. Heath backpedaled and reentered Jarrod's office. He left the leather portfolio on Jarrod's desk and scratched out a hasty note. He was just turning, when a woman's alarmed voice found his ears.

"What are you doing in here?"

"I'm looking for my brother. Is Jarrod here?" he said as she backed up. "I ain't gonna hurt you, Lady," he added.

"He's not here. He went with his mother to San Francisco. He'll be back tomorrow."

Heath nodded and left the panicked woman puzzling after him.

"Here you are, Joey, that's the final copy. Go ahead and print it," Roger said to the copy boy.

"Got it."

He was about to go to the sheriff's office to find out the latest on the information he was waiting for, when he spotted a familiar blond head heading south. He tried to catch Heath, but by the time he got to the corner where the blond cowboy had turned, he was gone. Roger walked back and scanned the street and direction Heath had come from. He found himself outside Jarrod's office.

"Kate, was Heath Barkley just here?"

"He was. Gave me a good start, he did. He came out of Jarrod's office."

"Do you mind if I have a look?"

"No, go ahead."

"Thanks."

He saw the note and quickly opened the leather bag and spilled the contents out. He spent the next hour pouring over the evidence and matching it mentally with his own information. He glanced at the clock and noticed it was after five p.m. He could wire Jarrod, but the next train to Stockton wasn't until tomorrow morning. No sense worrying him. He replaced the items and made his way to Sheriff Madden's office. He stopped when he saw Elliott Carrington, battered and bruised, ranting and raving to the nodding sheriff. He cocked his head in the doorway and listened as the irate citizen lodged a complaint.

"I want him behind bars, Sheriff. He attacked me in my own home. His so-called sister is a witness. It was totally unprovoked. Look at my face! Look what he is capable of. That animal should have never been set free. Well, aren't you going to do something?"

"I'll ride to the ranch and see if he's there. I'll post a warning for Billy and the other deputies to look for him. It ain't gonna be easy...he's been missing for the better part of the week. He don't want to be found."

"You better hope they find him before I do. He won't be needing any jail, after I get done with him."

"Don't go there, Mr. Carrington. I'm the law here and I won't put up with that. You go home and let me do my job," The lawman ordered.

Roger ducked back onto the street and ran for his horse. If he hurried, he might catch up to the wayward cowboy.

A sudden rap on the large wooden door caused the bruised gentleman to peer through the part in the window coverings before answering the door.

"Barrett. Please, come on in," Elliott invited. "So, what news did you bring for me today?"

"The bastard's back," Barrett informed. "That's about all I know."

"I already know that!" Elliott stormed. "Where do you think I got these?" he added, placing his hand on his purple face. "He stopped by here yesterday to check on his sister and then insisted she leave. Later that evening, I noticed some paperwork missing from my desk. I want him silenced, Barrett. He needs to be stopped before he ruins us. If he has those papers, that could be the end of our entire operation here!"

"Well, I can't just knock him off," Barrett argued. "Sinclair thinks that Nick and McCall are suspicious enough as it is. The bastard winds up dead, and they'll be knockin' on our door. We'd better think this one through. All that druggin' we've been doing was really pushin' it. It worked at first, but I think they're catchin' on."

"Get rid of him," Elliott commanded. "I don't care how you do it, but do it. I run a tight little group here and there's no place for carelessness. One dumb move could bring the curtain down fast. And Barrett...guys like you can be replaced. You got that?"

"Got it, Boss, and I'm on it! I'm not sure yet what the best way to tackle this will be, but I'm sure Pete'll have somethin' up his sleeve. We'll get it taken care of...don't you worry."

"Men like you don't worry me, Barrett. I want less talk and more action... understood?"

"I understand ya just fine," Barrett drawled. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got an important job to do."

The hootbeafs thundered away from the house as quickly as they had come. Barrett rode hard to catch Sinclair and the herd before anyone had a chance to notice that he was gone.

"Pete," Barrett huffed to his hard-faced accomplice. "The boss ain't too happy with you and me. Says that if that so-called Barkley talks, it's all on us. He says he wants him silenced and now!"

"And just how does he want us to do that," Sinclair questioned sarcastically.

"He didn't say. Just said to get it done."

"Lemme think this one through," Sinclair thought out loud. "There's got to be a way that we can work this without raisin' too much suspicion. Perhaps we could engage him in a fight of some kind."

"That shouldn't be too hard. He's plenty sore at us already."

"Yeah, but sore ain't good enough. We need him really steamed. So steamed that he'll go for blood, and then 'wham'," Sinclair said, using his fist to emphasize his action. "It'll all be in self-defense," he grinned sinisterly, looking off towards the horizon at an approaching rider. "And I think we've got just the right 'bait' headed this way now. Look."

"That Cortez kid?"

"Yup! It ain't no secret how the bastard's been wet-nursin' him. Why, they're probably one of a kind. We rough up the kid and 'Papa Bear' will be on our doorstep in no time flat. We strike while the iron's hot. Come on, Hank! Let's get 'im!"

The two men stepped out into the path of the oncoming animal as it's rider reined it in.

"Hey, you two," Rico called out. "Senor McCall's been looking for you. He says for you to come meet him in the South Pasture. He wants to talk to you."

"Well, maybe we don't want to talk to him," Barrett drawled, grabbing hold of the kid's mount.

"Yeah," Sinclair voiced, "we don't wanna talk to him...so, what are you gonna do about it?"

"Nothing, Senor. I do nothing."

"You got that right!" Sinclair quipped, latching onto Rico's loose shirt and yanking him off his horse.

"Senor, what is wrong? I did nothing!"

"Did nothing," Sinclair mocked, "you little snitch! I'll learn ya to go runnin' to a no account boss man every time you smell a little smoke."

"Who said anything about smoke, Senor? They just told me to get you, and I am here."

Rico's answer was a cuff upside the head that sent him sprawling. He looked up confused and tried to stand, only to have Sinclair kick his legs out from under him. The game went on...first Sinclair, then Barrett. Finally, when they'd had their fill, the two menacing cowhands mounted their horses and rode away, leaving the still form alone on the prairie.

With Jarrod and Victoria gone to San Francisco for the day and Audra refusing to speak with him, Heath figured that only left him with one more person to whom he could turn...Nick. He'd backtrack to the ranch and stay under cover until he could determine the exact whereabouts of Nick Barkley. He'd stay close enough to the house that he could also try and keep an eye on the road leading to and from the Barkley dwelling. He had just seen Carrington in town. If he decided to come back to try and sweet-talk Audra some more, Heath would be able to waylay him before he arrived.

Veering off the main road and cutting through some open range, Heath spotted something ahead. It appeared to be the form of a human, slumped down in the dirt. Cautiously approaching the figure, Heath squinted in the noonday sun and then suddenly gave Buster a quick nudge with his spurs. The horse bolted forward and stopped when Heath cued him with the reins. Jumping down from the saddle, Heath bent over the listless form and placed a hand alongside the victim's throat. He sighed with relief as he felt the slow, steady throb of the main artery.

"Rico," he called, shaking the still form. "Rico, wake up."

The boy stirred and moments later slits appeared in the closed eyelids.

"Senor Heath," he gasped, a smile making it's way across the beaten face. "You came back."

"Rico, who did this to you?" Heath pressed, ignoring his friend's greeting.

"Barrett...and...Sinclair," the battered boy grunted through blood encrusted lips.

Heath used his skilled hands to carefully access Rico's injuries. One eye was almost swollen shut, the rest of the face was bruised. A gash over his eye was bleeding as was the split lip. Heath was relieved to find that Cortez's limbs weren't broken, but when his fingers touched the ribcage that the boy cradled protectively, his voice cried out in pain.

"Sorry, Kid, you got a couple cracked ribs. They're gonna pay for this," Heath growled, easing the boy upright.

"No, Senor...please...is what they want...use you...please..." His weak voice trailed off as his eyes fluttered shut.

"Well, it worked," Heath retorted, feeling the anger well up from within. "Come on, Kid. I'm gettin' you back to the ranch and then I'm goin' to go out and finish what them two started."

"They will kill you...no, Senor...," he issued, too weak to open his eyes.

"Save your energy, Rico. You ain't goin' to talk me outta this. I'll be careful...I promise."

Buster tried to sidestep as Heath gently eased Rico up into the saddle. Heath gave the reins a firm set to remind the horse to stand still. Carefully situating the injured boy, Heath helped the weak hands grasp on to the saddlehorn. Then swinging up behind him, the vengeful cowboy made his way for the grounds surrounding the house.

The busy streets seemed only to add to the charm of the city by the bay. Full of businessmen and citizens of various creeds, it was a growing metropolis. Jarrod stepped out of the carriage and helped his mother down. The meeting had lasted longer than he anticipated, and he wasn't sure if she was up to dining out. Paying the driver, he took out his key and unlocked his office door.

"I'm sorry, but we have to stop in the office, Mother. I want to make sure that my secretary has these contracts first thing in the morning."

"That's all right, Jarrod," she said, eyeing her handsome son. "I hope you'll do the honor of allowing this proud mother to take her son to dinner at Claudine's."

"Well, thank you, Dear Lady. I'd be honored. You must've read my mind. I've been thinking of veal in wine sauce, some escargot and a vintage grape."

"Good, I'm starving and it's been ages since we've dined there."

"Well, let me check my mail just in case Nick wired."

She nodded and remained in the outer office. Several minutes went by and he didn't reappear. Curious, she rose and called to him as she entered the handsomely appointed room.

"Jarrod, is everything okay?"

"Yes," he answered distractedly, his eyes never leaving the opened package.

"What is it?" she asked, approaching the desk.

"The information I asked Chris Warren to get me several weeks ago. I had him do a background check on Heath."

"What on earth for?" she bristled.

"Take it easy, Mother. I felt that by knowing his background, that is, how he grew up and where he's been, it would enable me to understand him better. He seems to carry such a huge weight inside. I only wanted to help."

She walked around the desk and rubbed his back. She should have known Jarrod's intentions were honorable.

"I'm sorry, Jarrod. I shouldn't have jumped like that."

"Well, there is quite a bit of information here. I'll pack it up and we can review it tonight back at my house."

"All right, Dear."

The clock chimed ten times and Victoria stretched, stiff from being bent in one position so long. Upon their return to Jarrod's magnificent home on Nob Hill, they'd spent the last couple of hours reading about Heath's life.

"He certainly is made of the right stuff," Jarrod remarked in admiration.

"I can see now where he gets that pride of his," Victoria complemented. "Leah Thomson was a remarkably brave woman. From these notes, she's suffered terribly from the time he was small. No wonder he admires her so."

"Indeed," Jarrod said, leaning back and cocking his head. "You know, Mother, when Nick and I were small, our biggest decision was what to wear to school, what horse to ride, wondering what fun we could have after school. There was a library full of books, a fine house and family, a strong hand; we had so many choices. He had one...survival. From what Chris found out, Heath started working in the mines around age seven. By ten he was also working at the livery. Still, it wasn't enough. A small boy wearing a man's shoes." Jarrod thought out loud, his voice full.

"No, it wasn't. I'm sure he went to bed hungry more than once and her heart bled for him. As a mother, I know how torn she'd be. The intense need to sacrifice all for that child...to enrich his world. Then at thirteen to lose him to the war, and that awful prison afterward," she lamented.

"Yes, what little remained of his youth was shattered then. Grown men didn't survive those awful camps...I can't imagine how a boy could. From there it's very sketchy. He's roamed a lot over the last five or six years. Maybe if Nick reads this, somehow he'll understand why having a home and a heritage is so important to Heath."

"I hope so, Jarrod. I want to be a part of that boy's life. Somehow, I feel she'd want it that way."

"Well, I think we'd better get to bed. We can be on the early train," Jarrod concluded, gathering up the documents.

The corrals and bunkhouse seemed deserted as Heath, Rico and Buster stopped in front of the barn. Charger was in the fenced pen where Heath had left him, prancing the length of the fence. Dismounting Buster, Heath helped the injured boy off the horse. Setting him down, with the doorframe for support, Heath led Buster inside the barn. Loosening the cinch and pulling the saddle, Heath secured the stallion inside the enclosed paddock. He was just sliding the bolt into place when he heard a voice from behind.

"So you decided to come back, eh, Bastard?"

Wheeling around, Heath came face to face with Barrett. The cowhand's square jaw broadened as a demonic grin danced across the stubbled face. With the glint of evil dancing in his brown eyes, Barrett stood with his thumbs hooked over his gunbelt, making himself an open target. It was too good to be true, but Heath didn't stop to give it a second thought. Flinging himself with all his might, he plowed into Barrett, driving him hard onto the ground. Regaining his balance, Heath grabbed the stunned wrangler by the collar and began beating the dark head against the earthen floor. Barrett struggled hard, gaining himself a momentary lull from the beating. Heath gave him a hard backhand swing when suddenly something pounced on him from above and wrestled him from the object of his ire. Barrett was on his feet fast, quickly assisting Sinclair with the scuffle he had engaged in with Heath. Heath fought hard, but by using the element of surprise, Sinclair was gaining the upper hand. Barrett grabbed Heath from behind and held him in a bearhug while Sinclair delivered a volley of punches, knocking the wind out of the blond cowboy.

From where he sat slumped against the doorframe, Rico's blurred vision made it difficult to see exactly what was going on. He tried hard to remain awake, ignoring the fire in his chest. He saw Heath go down and watched as Sinclair kicked the cowboy into oblivion.

"He's comin' to," Barrett leered. "Let's have a little more fun with him before we do him in."

"You had enough yet, Boy?" Rico heard Sinclair mock. "Guess maybe I'd best put you out've your misery. Barrett, grab me that ax handle and then get outside and keep a lookout."

"No...," Rico moaned to himself, his thoughts whirling.

Using what little strength he had left, he crawled across the wide expanse of ground to the fenceline. Hauling himself up painfully as tiny, invisible daggers pierced his chest, he staggered towards the door.

Nick was just coming down the stairs when the front door burst open and Rico Cortez fell inside. Covering the remaining distance in several long bounds, Nick dropped to his knees beside the injured young hand.

"Rico? What's the matter?" he said, turning the body over. He gasped when he saw the bloody and mauled face.

"Who did this to you?" He growled

"Senor. ..please...it's my fault...hurry, he will kill your brother...in the barn...please..go..."

"Who? Who's gonna kill Heath?" Nick said shaking the boy.

"Sin...Sincl...Sinclair," Rico gasped as he fell unconscious in Nick's arms.

Swiftly, Nick laid the injured boy aside as he jumped to his feet and ran pell-mell for the barn.

Sinclair fondled the end of the ax-handle as he advanced on the fallen Barkley like a wolf moving in for the kill. Carefully raising the weapon above his head, Sinclair took special aim. If placed correctly, one good whack would do it. Heath moaned as he tried to open his swollen eyes. A blurred form hovered above him with arms raised high. Rolling over as part of an attempt to stand, Heath managed to pull himself to his knees. Sinclair hesitated, standing by to deliver the deathblow. Having Heath on all fours would increase his chances of getting in a clean shot the first time around.

"Welcome to hell, Bastard," he heard Sinclair snarl. "You've got a one-way ticket and no refunds allowed."

"HEATH!" Nick screamed as he raced across the yard, pausing briefly in front of the barn to clang the fire alarm a couple of times. Even though it was Saturday evening, a few of the men were still in the bunkhouse eating chow.

Barrett froze at the sound of the irate Barkley's voice. He didn't have to see Nick's face to know what it held. Spotting his horse a few feet away, he made short work of getting mounted. Sinclair was on his own, he didn't want to be on the other end of Nick Barkley's wrath.

McCall and the dozen or so hands in the bunkhouse ran outside when the fire bell sounded. McCall had heard Nick scream again and saw him stop dead in his tracks at the entrance to the barn. He raced over, with the men behind him.

Sinclair was just getting ready to finish off the mongrel upstart when he heard Nick Barkley's cry and the fire bell right outside the door. The raging bellow caused his arm to jerk as the ax found it's mark. Dropping the weapon, he scrambled past the body of Heath Barkley and out the side door, just as Nick came in the front door.

"Heath, are you ..."

Nick's voice died out when his eyes caught sight of the bloody ax handle in the straw. The sight of the horrid object stopped him dead in his tracks. He shook his head as if to deny what his heart feared most. He heard the voices of the men from across the yard. Murmurs of 'Fire?', 'thought I heard Nick holler', and 'what's going on?' echoed behind him. He took a hesitant step, with dread building in his chest. His disbelieving eyes made their way up the blue shirt, ending with the red-stained collar.

"Heath? Oh God, no." Nick cried.

Dropping to his knees beside Heath's body, his hands quickly found a pulse. The sigh of relief welcomed the low moan. Nick's first thought was to stop the bleeding and his hands slipped over the back of his brother's head. He then tried to untie his kerchief, but his hands were trembling and slick with blood.

"Here, Nick," McCall offered as he joined him and produced a section of cloth.

Nick turned Heath and lifted him, cradling him against his chest. He pressed the cloth on the vicious wound and spoke quietly in Heath's ear.

"Heath, Can you hear me? You're gonna be fine. I'm sorry Heath. I'm sorry for everything."

"Randy, ride to town and get Doc Merar and let the sheriff know ...," Duke ordered.

"What'll I tell him, Duke?" the young hand interrupted.

"Tell him Pete Sinclair tried to kill my brother," Nick snarled.

"Duke, you see to it Heath gets to the house. Cortez is just inside the door. Sinclair used him for a punching bag. Take some of the men with you and see to it that he gets taken care of," Nick commanded.

Nick allowed Duke to take Heath from him and rose. Climbing to his feet, he noticed one of the hands had Coco saddled and ready to go. Not wanting to waste any more time, he mounted the reliable beast and turned to leave.

"Where you going, Nick?" Duke called.

McCall handed Heath over to the hands, who gently lifted the bleeding cowboy. Walking to the front of the stable, he grabbed Coco's reins.

"Nobody lays a hand on my brother," Nick growled, his burning eyes narrowed and his face was dark with fury. "I'm going after Sinclair, and God help him when I find him."

The men present knew from the tone in Nick's voice that the stern edict was more than just idle words. Somewhere in the scarlet-stained scene Heath Barkley became Nick's brother. Nobody would ever challenge that issue again or treat Heath with any less respect than they would any other Barkley...Nick wouldn't tolerate it. McCall squinted up at Nick and met the determined man's gaze.

Nick knew what Duke was thinking and he was right. It shouldn't have taken Heath nearly getting killed by a brutal bigot to cement his blood ties. For one scary moment, staring at the prone figure in the hay, Nick felt a pain that he couldn't describe. Taking a deep breath, he determined never to feel it again...only to make things right with Heath and make sure nobody ever questioned the relationship again.

Duke saw the light of reason finally in Nick's eyes. He saw the pain the dark cowboy had while glancing at the pale young man who was being carefully carried into the house. Their eyes met and Duke nodded, releasing the horse.

"You be careful, Son," he added as Nick rode off.

"Go on," he nodded to the remaining hands, "Get saddled and ride with him. You all know what Sinclair looks like and now you know what he's been doing to that boy all this time. Get moving."

They wasted no time and Duke entered the house as Cortez was being carried to the bunkhouse. He stopped them, briefly, eyeing the battered boy's face. He shook his head, angry that it had come to this. Nodding, he released them as Audra emerged on the top floor landing.

"HEATH!" she screamed, running down the stairs.

"Take it easy, Miss Audra, he'll be okay. We got a doctor on the way," Duke assured as he tried to calm her down.

"What happened?" she managed, eyes wide with shock.

"I'm not sure, but I think Sinclair, and maybe Barrett, beat up Rico Cortez and lured Heath into a trap. Sinclair took an ax handle to him. Nick got there just in time or ...well... we got lucky. It looks worse than it is, Honey. I've seen lots of head wounds...they all bleed like that. He's a strong boy...he'll pull through. I'm going to go see what I can do for Rico. You send Doc Merar over when he's through here, okay?"

"Huh?...Oh, yes, of course. Thanks, Duke."

"...Senor Heath?...have to get help..." came the weak plea.

"He'll be okay, Rico. You take it easy," Duke eased.

Rico managed to open his eyes a little as the strong arms pushed him back against the pillows. Blinking at the harsh light, he eyed the bunkhouse and the blackness outside the window. He felt his head lifted and heard Duke urging him to drink a little water. He sipped a bit, then closed his eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Senor. It's my fault he got hurt," Cortez pained.

"No, Son, it's not your fault. Sinclair's been using Heath all this time, setting him up to take falls. Nick knows the score now and is out there looking for Sinclair. You get all that guilt out of your head, understand?"

"But.."

"No buts, Rico. Now quit jawin'. Them ribs are broke and I know you're hurtin'. You take is easy. The doctor will be here soon."

The doctor snapped his black bag closed and with a final pulse check, he turned to Heath's 'nurse'.

"He was lucky. It could have been much worse. There's no fracture, but he has a bad concussion. I don't want him out of that bed for a week. He's going to have blackouts and severe headaches. He'll probably get sick when he wakes up, so keep that basin handy. Give him some ice chips if he wants or a little water. Most of all, he needs to rest. Stop worrying, Audra. You're in charge. You update the family and I'll stop back tomorrow."

"Thank you, Doctor and I'm sorry if I was squeamish. There was just so much blood."

"Yes, it took quite a few stitches. Keep that bandage clean. If he needs it, there is pain medication in that bottle on the nightstand. You make sure you get Silas or Nick to sit with him a spell. Don't you go getting yourself exhausted. He'll be needing you tomorrow. He'll be pretty sick."

"Okay, Doctor. Oh, one of the hands was also hurt...Rico Cortez. He's over at the bunkhouse," she remembered as she walked him to the bedroom door.

"I'll go right away. I know the way...you don't need to walk me out. Please, stop worrying," he smiled, squeezing her hand.

Audra dozed on and off as she spent the night keeping a vigil on her injured brother. Seated in the chair by his bed, she never left his side. The doctor had warned her of the confusion that was often the immediate aftermath of a concussion, and she wanted to be there with him when he finally came around.

Jerking herself awake again, she reached over and lightly touched his forehead. His skin felt only slightly warm, no signs of high fever. She thought back on the angry tongue lashing she had given him the day before. Hot words spoken on impulse. She'd give almost anything now, if only she could take them back.

The sounds of hooves in the barnyard broke her thoughts as she stood and wandered over to the window. It was well after midnight and the hands involved in the manhunt were only now returning. She peered hard through the moonlit night, but didn't see any signs of Nick. She knew that meant that he was either still searching or in town giving a report to the sheriff. Audra sat back down knowing that there was no need to worry. If anything important had happened, someone would be sure to come and tell her.

The men had all gone back to the ranch to retire for the night, but Nick had continued on. Bent on finding Pete Sinclair or Hank Barrett, he would ride all night if he had to. How could he have been so indifferent as to close his eyes to the discord that had been apparent to everyone else? He knew now just how much he needed a brother like Heath. Someone whom he could trust and share the responsibilities of running one of the state's largest ranches...a hard worker who had proved his reliability and fortitude again and again.

"It should've been me that got busted with that ax handle," Nick thought. "Maybe it would've helped knock some sense into this thick skull of mine."

But all the remorse and self-berating wasn't going to atone for his behavior towards Heath. Nothing could erase the caustic words and actions he had used in attempts to humiliate and abuse his new brother. The concerns Victoria had expressed to Jarrod only a couple of weeks prior seemed to be fulfilled as anguish and sorrow flooded the cowboy's heart.

The full moon illuminated the upstairs bedroom with it's bluish light. Stirring from his slumber on the full-sized bed and covered with a patchwork quilt, Heath reached up and rubbed his aching skull. Opening his eyes, he looked around the dimly lit room. Moonbeams danced in Audra's golden hair as she sat peacefully sleeping in the nearby chair.

Many thoughts raced through Heath's addled mind as he tried to reflect on the past few days. His mind was fuzzy, but he could remember his little sister pleading with him, begging for just a few minutes of his time. But why was she here in his room now? Heath's mind reversed back even farther as he recalled an argument with Nick and the foul names he had used when referring to Heath's mother. Rage and wrath burned deep in Heath's heart. Nick had no right to degrade his mother the way he had.

Feeling a heaviness deep within his gut, Heath swung his legs over the side of the bed and made his way to the bathroom. Stopping long enough to steady himself on the doorframe, he felt the bile rise and made his way to the porcelain throne. Gladly parting with the meager contents of his stomach, Heath sat back against the wall and closed his eyes. Why was he so sick all the time? A few more minutes passed before his head cleared enough for him to fit the bits and pieces together. There was jail, the house, Elliott, Rico, the barn, Sinclair, Barrett, and the fight...no, he couldn't forget the fight. That was the reason his head felt like it had been parted with an ax.

All the robberies, and being framed by Barrett and Sinclair...but what tie was there with Elliott? Heath could only guess that they were all part of an elaborate ring of organized crime. He thought again of his volatile brother. Nick would never go along with his theory...at least not with sufficient proof to back his statement. There was only one thing he could do. Go after the gang himself and try to bring them to justice single-handedly.

Using the commode to pull himself up, Heath pulled the long cord that refilled the bowl with fresh water. Stopping by the wash basin just long enough to splash some cool water on his face, he made his way back down the hall. He didn't know what time it was, but figured he could use the cover of darkness to his advantage. Elliott's large house would be his first stop. Hesitating by the door of Audra's room, he slipped inside and scrawled out a brief note. Though he had left her sleeping in his room, she was sure to find it in the morning when she returned for some fresh clothes.

Taking each step one at a time, Heath managed to get himself down the stairs without any spills. The large front door to the house creaked as Heath stepped outside into the cool night air. The stillness that was typical of predawn hours cloaked him like a veil. The occasional chirp of a cricket or croak of a frog accompanied him on his trek to the barn. The horses were all resting peacefully in their stalls, except for the thumping that could be heard from inside the enclosed paddock.

"I'm sorry, Buster," Heath thought, "but I'm not going to have time for any of your shenanigans today. Passing the paddock, he headed for the stall where his Modoc was tied. Sally was fully recovered from her leg injury, and riding the gentle pony again would seem all too easy. He pulled his saddle off one of the racks, and after placing a blanket on Sally's back, stiffly hove it into place. The slight exertion left him seeing stars as he paused to lean against the little mare's warm side. His vision cleared and he led the pony out into the open area of the barn and quickly slipped her headstall into place. Soft whinnies from Buster's pen gave him a sense of comfort as he gingerly placed a boot in the stirrup and swung onto Sally's back. Urging her into a light canter, he rode into the moonlit stillness, the Modoc's hooves beating a steady rhythm down the packed dirt lane. Heath didn't look back at the darkened house as Sally carried him away from the place he had so desperately wanted to call home. If he had, he may have seen his sister's silhouetted form peering out of the window after him.

The dawn light was breaking and Nick had been in the saddle all night. Stopping by a creek, he stepped down off of Coco to give him a break. He spent a moment talking to his boyhood friend and stooped down to fill his canteen. He was just getting ready to remount when a second set of hoof prints in the soft creek bottom soil caught his eye. Judging by the tracks, the horses right hind foot was slightly toed in...that described the horse Barrett rode to a tee.

"Come on, Boy..."

He urged Coco onward and had gone only a few miles when he spotted the Paint tied to a tree. His fingers tingled in anticipation as they warmed to the idea of fondling Barrett's weasely neck. Nick watched as Sinclair's partner in crime stooped over the creek in attempts of getting washed. Slipping off Coco, he crept silently and stood directly behind Hank Barrett. Leaning against the tree, he crossed his arms and waited.

Barrett finished washing up and thought on just how lucky he was. He'd ridden immediately to the Carrington mansion, and confronted the head man. Elliott was furious at Sinclair's botched 'hit'. He gave Barrett orders to find Sinclair and steer him clear of the mansion, directing the two to 'hide low for a couple days and then meet at the hideout'. Sinclair was tucked away safe and sound and Barrett would join him soon. Standing up, he turned and his bowels turned to ice.

"Nice day," Nick barked, as his hands closed around Barrett's throat, "isn't it."

He drove the coward backwards into the creek and held him under the cold water for several seconds. Hauling him onto the bank, he towered over the sputtering snake and wasted no time.

"I wanna hear from you right here and right now," Nick seethed with his hands at Barrett's gasping throat. "Where is he?"

"Listen, Nick, is was mostly his idea. He hated the idea of that no good bastard gettin..." A knee to the groin ended Barrett's thought.

"Nobody says that about him to me. You got it? Now talk!" Nick ordered, kneeling over the scarlet-faced fool.

"I don't know where he is, " Barrett gasped, doubled over in pain.

Nick hauled him up and delivered a powerful right to the midsection, and followed up with a shot to the jaw.

"My patience is running out you spineless wonder. Now, WHERE IS HE?" Nick ended with a kick to the ribs.

"Not far," Barrett gasped trying to save his own hide. "He was on your brother from the beginning, settin' him up, making it look like he was drunk, skipping out on..."

"You mean all the stuff Heath told me from day one about him and Rico doin' your work plus their own was true," Nick growled, his hands around the dumbfounded man's throat.

"Urghh...," was the only response that the clenched fingers would allow.

"What did you do to him to make him sick?" Nick demanded, towering over the trembling form.

"Some stuff they use on the Barbery Coast...like knock out drops. It didn't hurt him none. He got what was coming...that's what Pete said," Barrett squealed as Nick's eyes glowered red.

The volley of blows left the former employee battered and bruised by the bank. He was barely able to see the dark face as it bent over him.

"I'm only sayin' this once, you yellow-bellied cretin. You take that sorry sack of yours as far away from here as you can get. You ever set foot in this valley again and I will personally see to it that the undertaker gets a new customer. Do I make myself clear?" Waiting for the mauled head to nod, he continued. "Now, I'm gonna ask you one more time. Where is he?"

Hank Barrett didn't waste another moment. As Nick rode toward the line shack, Barrett made some plans of his own. Nick Barkley would pay for this beating.

"Come on, Boy," Nick coaxed Coco. "We're hot on the trail now."

Nick rode for several miles, picking his way up the narrow gorge. The old line shack located at the top was the place where Barrett had directed him. It was located on the southern tip of Barkley range and made the perfect hideout for the renegade cowhand. Up until an hour ago, Nick may as well have been chasing dreams, but at least now he had something to go on. He followed the steep incline up what had been a grassy slope earlier that spring. Now the sage and tumble weeds were all the fodder available for grazing cattle. Ahead in the distance he saw the outbuilding, smoke pouring out of the single stove pipe.

Jumping down from Coco, he looped the reins around a clump of sagebrush and continued his journey on foot. Peering through the early morning rays of sunlight, he saw a lone horse tied to the post out front. It was Sinclair's, all right. With the stealth of a cat, Nick slunk up cautiously behind the cabin and waited. Trying to piece a feasible plan together, the sound of an opening door caused every muscle to tense as Nick drew himself up flat against the cabin wall, listening for his next cue.

The splat of coffee being dumped told Nick that now was a good time to catch his foe off guard. Stepping from behind the building with gun drawn, Nick stood to face his opponent. Sinclair returned the cold, steely stare with a look of absolute stupidity. Caught with nothing more than his long johns on, the dumbfounded cowhand went for a gun that wasn't there.

"Forget it," Nick steeled, reholstering his own gun. "I'm gonna do this with my bare hands."

Turning to run back inside the cabin, Nick was one step ahead of the distressed wrangler. With a sudden jump onto the front porch and a couple of long, lean strides, he reached the door a moment before Sinclair. Using the heel of his boot to pin Sinclair's bare foot to the planking, the adversary cursed out in pain.

"Beat my brother with an ax handle, will ya?" Nick seethed as his fisted black glove drove into Sinclair's jaw.

"Frame, abuse and ambush him and then leave him for dead, eh?"

This time Nick's foot did the work of driving another point home.

"And then there's poor, defenseless Rico!" Nick mocked angrily. "Now, how low do you have to be to go beatin' up on a kid?"

Sinclair tried to stand, but Nick kicked his legs out from under him. Then reaching down and hauling him to his feet, Nick delivered a series of thrusting blows to the midsection. Sinclair started to topple, but Nick grabbed him by his thermal top and slammed him up against the wall of the wooden shack. Giving his head a few hard whacks against the weather beaten wood, Nick drew his grip in tight and lifted the coward up off his feet. Sinclair squeaked as the crotch of his one-piece union suit drew up tight around his groin.

"Now, I'm warnin' you, Boy," Nick gritted. "If I ever so much as catch your sorry hide on Barkley range again, I'm finishin' it! Do I make myself clear?"

Sinclair nodded as blood ran freely from his lip and nose. Nick let go of his hold and the defeated cowhand slid down the wall of the cabin and slumped to the ground. Holding his aching ribs, the villain cursed under his breath at the retreating form of his former boss.

"Someday," he thought. "Someday Nick Barkley's gonna eat those words."

The house on the North Road appeared vacant when Heath rode up. He cautiously entered and crept upstairs to the master bedroom, finding it empty. Throwing open the doors of the armoire, Elliott's clothes appeared to be missing as well. Heath made his way down to the desk in the study. It was clear and void of all the incriminating evidence that had littered it's top just two days prior.

Disgusted, Heath strode out of the house and around to the brush where he had hidden Sally. At least he had had the foresight to collect a few of the papers as samples of evidence. Reaching into his saddlebag, he pulled out a piece of hardtack left over from roundup. Thoughtfully he nibbled on it, plotting out his next move. He was still a bit shaky and unsteady, but feeling much stronger than he had when he first left the ranch. Climbing up on Sally's back, he spun her around, pointing her nose west. It would be logical to assume that Elliott would be traveling in the direction of San Francisco, maybe even rejoining the gang along the way.

It was midmorning when Nick rode back to the ranch's barn, tired and bedraggled. Sliding off Coco, he handed the reins to Ciego and headed for the house. Stillness greeted him as he walked into the foyer and tossed his hat on a nearby chair.

"Audra! Silas! I'm home!," Nick hollered as he scanned the top of the stairs for activity. "Now, that's funny," he thought to himself. "I wonder where the devil everybody is around here?"

Then he remembered...this was Sunday morning and Silas always left the house early for church.

"Audra's probably upstairs with Heath," he thought, heading towards the carpeted staircase, "unless...!"

Bounding up the stairs two at a time, Nick raced down the hall and threw open the door of Heath's room. The bed sat there empty.

"Heath, no!" he cried, turning back towards Audra's room. "Audra!" he called as he opened the door only to find it empty as well. "My God, what have I done?" he grieved as he entered the room and sank down onto the bed with his head in his hands.

Looking up and taking a breath, his glance fell on a handwritten note that bore Heath's handwriting. Snatching it up, he quickly read the inky scratch.

Audra: had to go away for a while. Be back when I can. Love, Heath

"Thank goodness!" he sighed in relief. "At least I know Heath's okay and not...."

Nick stopped to take another look at the note. Heath was gone, that was obvious by the note, but where did he go...and where was Audra? Not wanting to lose a moment's time, Nick scrambled down the front stairs and ran out to the barn.

"Should I resaddle your horse, Senor?" the stable hand asked.

"No, not Coco," Nick responded. "I may have a lot of riding to do and he's already put in a long night. Put my saddle on Jingo."

"Si."

"Ciego," Nick prodded, "have you seen Heath or my sister this morning?"

"No, Senor Nick. Except for when the men left for ranch duties early this morning, everything's been real quiet. Maybe they decided to sleep in. Your brother was in a bad way."

"No, they ain't sleepin' in. Besides," added Nick peering across the barn, "both Sally and Mischief are missin'. Now listen to me, Ciego, and listen good. When my mother and Jarrod get back, you just tell them that Heath and Audra took off and I went after them. Tell them I'll send word somehow if I find anything. You got that?"

The Mexican nodded. Satisfied, Nick mounted Jingo and rode off towards Stockton.

It was two o'clock in the afternoon when Heath heard the hoofbeats coming up behind him. The sky had darkened, threatening the onset of a summer thundershower. Having been on horseback all day, the renewed strength that Heath had felt that morning had long since waned. Slumped in the saddle, he defensively turned to face the approaching rider.

"Audra," he managed in a weak whisper. "What are you doin' here?"

"I saw you ride out and came after you," she replied.

"Have...have you been...trailin' me...all this way?" he stammered.

"Yes," she answered, "and it's a good thing, too. You look as though you're about to fall off that horse."

"You...shouldn't...have come," Heath halted. "This is...no...place...for you."

Audra started to defend herself when a big raindrop landed on the cantle of her saddle, making a darkened splotch.

"It's starting to rain," she said, "and you really look as though you could use some rest. I've been following along from off the road and there's an old house back a ways in the brush. It looks as though it's been abandoned. Will you at least agree to let me take you there? You can regain your strength while we wait out the storm."

Heath paused for a moment to assess the situation. Audra's presence did alter things. Now, he had her welfare to think about as well. The darkened sky lit up as lightening flashed it's threat. Several seconds later, thunder answered the call as more heavy droplets plummeted downwards. Seeing his nod of approval, Audra turned Mischief to the East, leading the way to shelter.

The horses tromped through a thicket of trees and then into a clearing. Nestled in the secluded area sat the old, deserted farm house, it's shutters and shingles hanging in disrepair. Audra jumped to the ground, hastily tied Mischief, and ran over to aid her brother who was clutching the saddlehorn with both hands. Somehow she managed to keep him from falling as he slid down the side of Sally. Acting as a crutch, she put her arm around his waist and encouraged him to lean on her as they made their way up the front steps of the house. Turning the handle on the door, it swung open, offering refuge from the ominous weather outside. The house was small, but well furnished. Audra spotted a bed in the far corner of the main room, next to the fireplace. She led Heath over and steadied him while he sank down onto the mattress.

"You feel warm again," she noted, placing her hand on his forehead.

Walking over to the kitchen area, she found a cup and pumped some water into it. Taking it back to her brother, she encouraged him to drink. Heath gulped the entire contents of the cup and then eased back on the bed. Within moments he was sleeping peacefully.

While Heath slept, Audra busied herself about the cabin. She found a lamp with kerosene and some matches. Just having some light inside seemed to chase away some of the gloom. Next she searched through the cupboards. For an abandoned building, it certainly seemed well stocked with provisions. Whoever the previous occupants had been, they had even left the woodbox full. She took the small hatchet which lay on the hearth and chipped off some kindling to start a fire. She would put some water on to boil...Heath might want some coffee or even some broth when he awoke. There was some jerky in one of the cupboards. She would simmer it and offer him the broth or even the meat if he was up to it.

The old home didn't have a clock of any kind, but Audra figured Heath had already been asleep for a couple of hours before he began to stir. Walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed, her face was the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes. At first he was disoriented, but after looking around the room and hearing the crackle of the fire, his recollection returned.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"Better, I think."

"You look better," she affirmed. "Your voice is stronger and you have a little color back in your cheeks. Would you like to try some broth?"

"Audra," he said sternly, ignoring her offer. "Why did you follow me?"

"Like I told you back on the road, Heath. The doctor told me that you should be in bed for several days. You were weak and in no condition to go riding off like you did. I was really worried about you."

"So what took you so long to make yourself known? Did you figure that I'd be more apt to let you stay if you put more distance between yourself and the ranch?"

"Yes, I guess that's what I had in mind...and it did work. Where did you think you were goin', anyway?"

"I just had somethin' that needed tendin' to...still do, in fact...and layin' around here ain't helpin' any."

"Something you need to do! What could be so important that you'd put your health at risk?" Audra quizzed. "Let me guess," she added, answering her own question. "You were goin' to go after the men who beat you."

"For starters."

"And?"

"And that weasel boyfriend of yours."

"Weasel boyfriend? Heath Barkley, I think you have some explaining to do! You haven't liked Elliott from the beginning. What on earth is it about him that's bothering you?"

"He's not what you think he is, Audra. The other day when I came up to you two at the house...well, I had just discovered some papers and maps and things on his desk. They proved that Elliott's the one who's been responsible for all the robberies we've been havin' around here lately. I was just gettin' ready to leave when a picture fell off the desk. I picked it up and recognized it as Elliott...how he looked several years ago. He's bad, Audra. I've tangled with him before...I just didn't know it 'til I came across that photograph."

"No!" Audra gasped. "He can't be like that! I love him and he said he loved me!"

"Like I told you before, he was usin' you, Sis. Those maps he had were marked. The Miller and Royce ranches were two of the places he had circled. I also found an inventory listing all the loot he's made off with, as well as dates and times written in as future marks. And you'll never guess who else was on that hit list of his."

"Who?" Audra asked, hardly being able to believe what she was hearing.

"Your family's very own ranch."

"Oh, Heath! Are you absolutely sure?"

"As sure as I can be. I gathered up some of the information and left it on Jarrod's desk in Stockton. When this goes to court he'll need that as proof."

"Oh, Heath," Audra blurted out, breaking down in tears. "I'm so sorry!"

"Sorry for what?"

"Sorry for doubting you the other day at Elliott's and for the spiteful way I behaved. Will you ever forgive me?"

"There ain't nothin' to forgive, Sis. Reckon if I was in your shoes, I'd feel the same way."

"But still, I took his word over yours. Please, Heath. Say that you forgive me."

"Okay, if it makes you feel any better, I forgive you."

"Thank you," Audra smiled. "And I do feel a lot better now. You seem to have quite a bit of oozing around those stitches," she added, changing the subject. "With all that trail dust it's a wonder you don't have a high-grade infection. I'm going to look for some soap or something I can clean it with. And you never did tell me...are you up to a cup of broth?"

"Yeah, I'll take the broth," Heath accepted, offering her a lopsided grin.

She ladled him a cup and went to search for some first-aid supplies. There were two back rooms that she hadn't explored yet...perhaps she would find something in one of them. She opened the first door...it appeared to be another bedroom. Searching through a trunk, she found an extra set of sheets. Audra pulled them out, thinking that they might come in handy for bandages if Heath's head wound started to really bleed. Tucking them under her arm, she headed over to investigate the second room. Placing her hand on the knob, she turned it but the door wouldn't open. Gripping the knob harder, she rattled and shook the door, but it seemed to be locked.

"That's funny," she thought. "Why would someone care enough to lock a door in a house they were planning to desert."

Looking around, Audra searched for a key. There had to be one around somewhere. Standing on tiptoes, she felt up along the top frame of the doorway. A wrought-iron key came tumbling down along with a good deal of dust. Stooping to pick it up, Audra placed the key in the lock and turned it. The key turned over with ease. Gently pushing open the door, she stopped amazed. The room was full of all kinds of valuables and treasures. Leaning against some golden candelabras were two magnificent pieces of art. She recognized those pictures. She was sure she'd seen them somewhere before. Peering closely at them in the dim light she suddenly remembered where it was. They were the original oil paintings that she had so often admired...the ones displayed in the living room at the Royce ranch.

Audra flashed on Heath's words of warning as she stood and beheld the bountiful booty before her. If all this was true, then this old farmhouse was also serving as a hideout for the gang. She didn't know when they'd be back, but knew that she and Heath needed to get out of there. But where could they go? The rain was coming down in sheets and Heath was feverish and in no condition to travel.

Closing the door of the room, she followed the snap of the fire back into the main room. Walking over to her resting brother, she found him once again engulfed in a deep sleep. She tried gently shaking him, but he didn't want to rouse. Then she remembered. The doctor had warned of sporadic periods of unconsciousness. Heath was more than likely passed out, rather than asleep. Pulling a wooden chair up close to his bed, she allowed the heat of the fire to penetrate her body. The warmth was soothing, but still she had an uneasiness settle over her. With the loot stashed in the house, the gang was sure to be returning soon. If from a distance they saw the smoke rising from the chimney, that could be even worse. Quickly Audra rose and doused the fire with water.

"Audra?"

"I'm right here, Heath. What is it?"

"Just checkin'. Wanted to know where you were is all."

Already Heath was becoming accustomed to having family members that cared for him and he for them. He thought it strange that he could feel that way again. His mama had always been there for him, and now she was gone. But even with a loving mother, he had always been fairly independent...the war and hard living conditions had made him that way. Still, it was nice to have someone close by. He realized just how much he longed for the interaction of a real family. A family that he could be a part of.

"Heath," Audra began. "I think we're headed for some serious trouble if we don't try to get away while we can."

"What do you mean?" Heath asked, turning his head to face his sister.

"I mean that I found the stolen items from the Royce ranch, plus a lot of other things, in one of those rooms in back."

"This is the hideout, then," Heath alarmed. "Come on, Audra. We're checkin' out!"

"I'll help you," she offered, grasping one of his arms as he stood.

"We don't have time for that," he replied, standing on his own strength. "With all this rain, the gang's more 'an likely goin' to want a dry place to hole up."

"Maybe they're just usin' this place for storage," Audra suggested, following Heath as he staggered for the door.

"No, I doubt it. They wouldn't want to let all that treasure lyin' around for someone like us to walk in and steal. I'm sure they'll be comin' back real soon. Besides, it's a chance we can't take," he added, turning to Audra. "Now I'll tell you what we're gonna do. We're gonna ride for the nearest town and report this place to the sheriff. Benton City should be just a few miles down the road. We'll go there."

"What! And cheat us outta doin' you in, Bastard?" came Sinclair's voice from behind.

Seeing the horses out front, he had sneaked in through the back door. Several other gang members were outside, surrounding the house. With his gun aimed in Heath's direction, the wrangler's face was still badly battered from his previous encounter with Nick.

"Looks like you and Nick met up on the trail," Heath offered dryly.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact we did. And you know what? I plan on doin' to you what he did to me. And then you wanna know what I'm gonna do? I'm gonna finish off what I started in the barn the other day. Only this time that loud mouth brother of yours won't be around to stop me."

As Sinclair advanced forward, Audra stepped between him and Heath.

"No," she pleaded. "Please don't touch him. I'll...I'll do anything..."

"Audra!" Heath ordered, grabbing her arm and pulling her out of the way. "You stay out of this."

"No, let her continue," Sinclair leered.

"Like hell I will," Heath gritted as he made a fist and catching Sinclair off guard, sent the gun sailing from his hand.

As Heath tried to dive for the stray pistol, Sinclair was there, too. The two men grappled and struggled, each trying to gain control of the firearm. Heath had it for a moment, but then felt a firm hand on top of his. With his finger on the trigger, if he could just get the barrel of the gun turned, Heath knew Sinclair would be as good as dead. Sinclair foresaw his intentions and aiming the gun down towards Heath, deliberately applied pressure to his trigger finger.

The loud explosion brought in Elliott and Barrett. Wolf and Banjo were still watching the front door. Heath relaxed his hold on the gun as a crimson stain began to spread across the right leg of his tan pants. The bullet had grazed the skin badly without actually penetrating it. Standing to his feet, now in full charge of the gun, Sinclair stood back and cocked the revolver, taking careful aim at his victim.

"Sinclair!" Elliott ordered as he stepped inside the room. "Put it down. We may need them."

Sinclair answered with a surly scowl.

"I mean it, Sinclair. Put it down. These two just may be worth more to us alive than dead."

"What do ya mean?" Sinclair growled. "This mongrel here's been nothin' but trouble ever since that first day he came on. Thinks he's really somethin'...waltzin' in and tryin' to lord it over the rest of us like he was boss. All high 'n mighty just 'cause the old man gave him some of that rich blood. Well, I think it's high time I take away that pedigree...once and for all!"

"You do and you obviously don't care about getting rich quick," Elliott continued. "Now with all that 'rich blood', how much do you think the Barkley family would be willing to pay to get these two whelps back? I figure they'd pay quite a bit," he said, fingering a golden strand of Audra's disheveled hair.

Feeling repulsed by this imposter who had used her, Audra couldn't hide her deep set anger. Pulling back and repelling his touch, her hand darted out to deliver a forceful slap to his handsome face.

"Get your hands off me, you filthy dog!" she snapped with the ferocity of a lioness.

He rubbed the stinging cheek and laughed.

"I had no idea how that fire in you could sir my blood, Love."

"Love?" she loathed. "The only thing that stirs your blood is money and stolen property. You disgust me!"

"Barrett! Get some rope," the leader commanded. "I have a feeling that this one is going to need to be tied up. I'm afraid she's too much for even me to handle. Tie that so-called brother of hers as well. Then take and stash them in the room with the rest of the loot."

"Do you think that's a wise idea, Boss?" Barrett questioned. "There's some real valuable stuff in there. What if they try and trash it just for spite."

"Good thinking, Barrett. Put them in the other room...and be sure to lock the door," Elliott issued, looking straight at Audra. "I wouldn't want to be forced to shoot them should they attempt anything so foolish as an escape."

Barrett left for a moment and returned with Wolf and Banjo as well as the rope. The three bound the hands of Heath and Audra while Sinclair stood by with his gun leveled. Audra was hauled to her feet and told to walk, while Heath was dragged and slung into the back bedroom. Audra could hear the key being turned in the lock and Heath's moans as he tried to clear the fog from his fuzzy mind. His pants were now soaked in the scarlet fluid as the gash on his right thigh continued to bleed. Audra didn't know if anyone back at the ranch had missed them yet, but she knew they were definitely in a predicament.

It was well past noon when Jarrod pulled the buggy up in front of the house. After a bath and some lunch, he was heading back to Stockton. He helped his mother down and entered the house behind her.

"I'll bring the bags upstairs and then take the buggy over to the barn," he informed her, turning back to close the door.

"Audra, Nick, we're home," Victoria called.

The house was strangely silent. Victoria peeked into the parlor and then walked across to the study and library on the other side of the house. She repeated her greeting, but her children seemed to be out. From upstairs, the sound of Jarrod's voice conveyed a message of urgency. Victoria's heart quickened as she heard the tone of panic rise in the voice of her normally calm son.

"Jarrod, what is it?" she answered, sweeping around the staircase and up the stairs. "Jarrod? Where ...."

She stopped momentarily, seeing him standing in the bathroom doorway. She reached his side and he turned to let her inside. The lingering aroma of vomit hit her before her small foot was even on the tile floor. Traces of it remained around the bowl of the toilet. That wouldn't cause Jarrod to be so upset. Then she saw the concern on his face. Following his worried gaze, she saw the familiar blue shirt Heath wore covered in blood. There were towels on the top of the hamper. They were also bloody.

"Oh no, Heath. What could have happened?" she feared.

Treading silently down the hall, she peeked into Heath's room. She saw the upset sheets and when she got closer, the traces of blood on the pillowcase. That answered at least one question. Heath had suffered some kind of head injury...but where was he?

"Jarrod, where could he be? He was obviously injured seriously. He couldn't be out of bed, unless..."

She turned as Jarrod's strong hand gripped her shoulder.

"I'm sure it's not that, Mother," Jarrod reassured, knowing she feared the worst.

"But Jarrod, what else could it be? If Heath...if the injury was fatal, then Audra and Nick may have taken him to...," her voice trailed off.

"No, Mother, they knew we were coming home today. They would have waited. Let's have another look around."

Nick's room held no more clues, but Audra's did. Victoria met Jarrod in the hall and handed him a note. Briefly scanning it, he frowned and headed for the stairs.

"I was afraid of this. He's being foolish and stubborn. Issuing a one-man campaign to bring this gang in was bad enough, injured it's..."

His thought was interrupted by a loud banging on the door. He recognized the voices and opened the massive door to admit Fred Madden and Roger Burke. Roger's rumpled clothing and state of disarray was a sharp contrast to his normally well-groomed appearance. The grave concern on his face and that of the sheriff told the lawyer that his questions about Heath were about to be answered.

"How is he? I came as soon as I heard. I'm awful sorry, Jarrod."

"Roger's got some information to show you, Jarrod," Fred indicated and nodded at Victoria. "I'd like to see Heath if he's up to it. I need to get a statement."

"He's not here Fred, and we've only just arrived. Please come inside," she motioned to the parlor. "There's evidence upstairs something terrible happened to Heath. Nick and Audra aren't here, either. Jarrod seems to think that Heath is trying to find this gang by himself. I'm afraid Audra went after him."

"And Nick?" Roger asked.

"From what Duke told me, Nick left here last night, loaded for bear and looking for Pete Sinclair."

"Sinclair? Then Heath was right?" Jarrod asked.

"Wait a minute!" Victoria said, placing both hands in front of her. "Start at the beginning. What happened to Heath?"

"Pete and Hank Barrett used some young hand named Cortez as a punching bag yesterday. They knew Heath and the kid were close and used him to lure Heath into a trap. Sinclair took an ax handle to him in the barn. Nick got there just in time and then went hunting for Sinclair. Duke can fill you in on the rest. I was out here last night, but he was out cold and the doctor seemed to think, he was in a bad way. You say he's gone?"

"Yes, apparently. He must have awakened during the night and took off to find the gang, I think. Audra must've found this note," Jarrod said handing it to the sheriff, "and took off after him. Roger, what are you doing here?"

Roger sat forward and handed Jarrod the note Heath left in his office along with the evidence he'd found.

"He's been staking out the Carrington place all week, I guess. Anyhow, he came looking for you yesterday and left this on your desk. It's all there in Elliott's own hand...names, dates, maps, etc. I tried to find him and didn't get home until late last night. I checked with Fred this morning and he told me about Heath."

Jarrod's eyes widened as he rifled through the documents. His hand froze at the crude outline of the Barkley Mansion.

"Looks like we're on the hit list. What's our next move, Fred?"

"Carrington knows Heath's on to him...I'm sure of it. I wouldn't be surprised if he's behind Heath's attack. I went out to his place last night, but it looked liked he hadn't been there. He won't be comin' back. He knows he's been had. There was no sign of the loot there, either. I'm guessing they have another hideout somewhere. I've got men posted outside the house and will send a posse out to find Heath and Audra. I need to take that evidence to the District Attorney's office."

Jarrod nodded and handed the parcel over. Victoria stood up to walk him to the door. He stopped at the entrance to the foyer and turned back, meeting Jarrod's penetrating gaze.

"I guess we all owe that boy an apology. I sure feel bad about this. I'm going to go over and see how Rico Cortez is doing. He was awfully upset last night. Really took it hard about Heath. Seems like a nice kid."

"I'll walk over with you, Fred. I want to talk to Duke," Victoria said.

"Roger, don't you go getting any hair-brained ideas! I'm warning you," Fred said sternly.

"Me?" Roger's eyebrows shot up.

Jarrod smiled knowing exactly what the sheriff meant. More than once Roger had been hurt uncovering criminals and evidence.

"I'll keep an eye on him, Fred," Jarrod issued as his mother and the lawman left.

"I gotta find him, Jarrod. You understand, right?" Roger said, green eyes contrite.

"Understand what? Roger, Heath is an adult and knows right from wrong. He should have asked for help."

"He tried, Jarrod, but nobody would listen. I believed him. There's just something about his eyes...," Roger trailed off.

"You getting shot, or worse, won't solve anything."

"I've got to cover the Mayors of America Conference in San Francisco tomorrow, so I need to get home and get packed. But I'll be back Tuesday. "

"I'm going to get changed and get a couple of hands to ride out with me, " Jarrod said, rising. "Maybe we'll get lucky and Heath and Audra will return home."

"Heath, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I think so. The bleedin' feels like it may be slowin' down some."

"If it weren't for these ropes, we could use the sheets on that bed over there for bandages," Audra said, struggling with her restraints.

"I've still got my pocket knife," Heath suggested. "It's in my front pocket. If you could somehow get to it, we could at least get these ropes off."

Worming her way over, Audra turned her back to him and felt through the denim fabric for the shape of the knife. "

"It's right here!" she exclaimed. "Now, if I can just get it out of your pocket and open." Using her hands which were bound together behind her, Audra was able to work the knife to the opening of the pocket from the outside of the fabric. "I just about have it!"

The knife made a clunky ping as it plopped out of the pocket and onto the floor. Turning over, Heath groped for the knife. Once his fingers closed around it, he turned it in his clasped hands, playing with it until the blade popped open. Carefully positioning it through his wrists, Heath began to lightly saw at the ropes. Finally cutting through, he shook his hands free and went to work on Audra's.

"Oh, thank you!" Audra said, rubbing her wrists where the rope had dug in.

"If you hear that key turn in the lock, you might want to put your hands behind you again," Heath warned. "If they don't try and move us, they may not notice the ropes are gone. Let's get these cut pieces out of sight."

Audra shoved the rope remnants under the bed and then lifted up the corner of the quilt covering. She was relieved to find that there were indeed some sheets underneath. Heath was sitting up by now, examining the injury to his leg. He had sliced a little bit of the fabric away with his knife and was using it to lift the sticky denim away from the graze.

"I think it'll be okay," he said. "It ain't real deep. The bullet must've just nicked the surface."

"Let me have your knife for a moment," she requested. "I can cut the hem off one of these sheets."

"You start applyin' bandages, and if they come back in here, they'll know for sure somethin's up," Heath warned.

"Well, what's your solution then?" Audra argued. "Just lay here and have me watch you bleed to death? Sorry, but it's a risk we can't take. Besides, the sheets kind've match the color of your pants anyway. Once they start absorbing some of that blood, maybe the bandage won't be so noticeable."

"You're probably right," Heath agreed, glancing in the direction of the uncovered window. "It will be dark soon," he thought.

The window was one solid mildewed pane with no opening of any kind. To break it would definitely alert their captors. He could hear the rain dripping off the eaves and see the dismal patch of gray sky lurking outside the glass. Audra knelt down beside him. He scooted with his back against the bed so he could sit up and watch as she wound the cloth fabric around his upper leg.

"That should help," she said, knotting the two loose ends together.

"Thanks," he offered, reaching for her hand.

She curled up beside him and they sat arm in arm drawing strength and comfort from one another. Heath had really begun to let his guard down around her. She only hoped that their relationship could continue to develop.

Jarrod's trip was short lived. Just a few hours into his search the storm clouds and gusty winds drove him home. He was upstairs looking out Heath's window, when Nick rode in. Jarrod took the stairs two at a time and waited by the front door until his brother blew in.

"Anything, Nick?" he hollered over the thunder.

"They're not here?" Nick turned, hopeful.

"No. I was hoping they'd be with you."

Nick was soaked, haggard and hungry. He stood dripping in the foyer and looked painfully at the floor. His deep sigh and the pain etched on his face made Jarrod think there was something more to his concern.

"You get a hot bath, a shave and some dry clothes. Dinner's almost ready. Mother's been resting and just got up. I'll have a brandy waiting."

Nick met Jarrod's sincere gaze and nodded his thanks. Victoria and Jarrod were mulling over where else to look, when Nick appeared. He bypassed the brandy and poured a double shot of Jack Daniels. Taking a sip, he found a spot by the fire. Victoria knew he would. Since he was young, it was his favorite place to brood.

"How's Rico?" Nick finally said.

"He's very stiff and sore today. His face is...well what those brutes did to him is inexcusable," Victoria said, remembering the sad brown eyes peeking out of the swollen, discolored face.

"You don't know the half of it," Nick snarled, draining the whiskey and slamming the glass down. "I caught up with them two way out by the south end of the ranch. Barrett spilled his guts...said Sinclair had been setting Heath up all along to make me think.... Well, it worked, but I took care of the two of them. I only hope Heath will forgive me."

"Did you see any signs of them, Nick? Where could they be?" Victoria fretted.

"I looked high and low, Mother. Been all over this ranch, to town and back. It's like they've disappeared. I guess he must've gone off lookin' for Sinclair and gave Audra the slip."

Silas had returned and announced dinner was ready. The trio resumed their discussion while savoring the chicken and dumplings the black man served.

"How bad was he, Nick?"

"I don't know how he could have even got on a horse," Nick mused, putting his fork down. "I thought...for a few minutes, when I got into the barn and saw him laying there, so still... It was a bad feeling. I don't want to go through that again."

"Did you drop Sinclair and Barrett at the jail?" Victoria asked.

"Jail? No, I handed out my own 'sentence'. They're probably out of the state by now."

Jarrod and Victoria looked at each other and then at Nick. Nick saw their confusion.

"What? What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nick, those two are a part of the Wolf Pack Gang. Heath knew about it. That's where he's been all week...staking out the Carrington House. He obtained some evidence and they found out. Fred thinks Elliott ordered Sinclair to silence him. Apparently you interrupted the job, thank God."

Nick's head pivoted and his scowl was followed by a growl.

"Elliot? What does he have to do with this?" Nick pondered, and then before Jarrod could answer... "Oh, now wait a minute. Are you telling me he's involved in those robberies? That Sinclair and Barrett were working for him? I can't believe it! Elliott?"

"I'm sorry Nick, but Heath's evidence is pretty incriminating. Elliott looks to be the mastermind. Fred has the house staked out, but doubts if he'll return. They're probably lying low at their hideout."

"Jarrod, do you think that they have Heath and Audra?" Victoria feared.

"I hope not, Mother."

Nick sat brooding, his fist hitting his palm. Jarrod saw the dark face and waited for the explosion.

"Nick, ranting and raving won't bring them home. We need a plan and I need you to have a cool head, understand?" Jarrod leveled sternly.

Nick didn't move, his eyes bore a hole into the two empty places where Heath and Audra usually sat. Finally, he spoke in a low voice.

"I'd give anything to see them sitting over there...gigglin' and carryin' on like they were the other night. I've got no idea where to start. What do you know about this Wolf Pack?"

"After dinner we'll go to the study. I have Roger's notes, and I'll fill you in on what Heath' found at the Carrington house."