Victoria entered the empty bedroom and walked to the window. She watched the action at the corral as life continued on the busy ranch. Rico was standing by the corral watching a new stallion being broken. She couldn't hear what Duke was saying, but smiled, knowing that his ire at the young man was due to how much he liked the boy. Sighing, she turned to leave and spotted Heath's clean clothing still folded on the bed waiting to be put away. She opened the dresser drawer and made two trips across the room putting the various items in the proper drawers. As she attempted to close the middle drawer, it stuck. She forced it with her hip and the drawer closed, but the sudden hard movement caused an object to fall from the top of the chest

She glanced down at the leather bag and it's contents which had spilled out. Bending to pick them up, her hand froze at the familiar slanted script that seemed to jump out at her. She picked up the letter and the other items and carried them to the bed. Sitting for several minutes, Victoria stared at the handwriting she knew as well as her own. The letter was addressed to Leah Thomson. She placed it carefully next to her and looked at the other items. First there was a pair of cuff links with golden eagles engraved on the front which she vaguely remembered as being a gift from his father. They had mysteriously disappeared years ago. She swallowed hard as she cast her glance on an old yellowed photograph. It was a picture of her Tom, so young and handsome, with a pretty young woman, obviously Heath's mother. His eyes, just like Heath's, were deep and full of feeling. She picked up the letter and sat staring at it.

"Mother? Are you all right?"

Jarrod had watched for several minutes, not wanting to interrupt. She hesitated and patted the spot next to her on the bed. He approached cautiously, noting the emotive look on her face and the tears on her cheeks.

"I don't know whether to read this or not. They're both dead. Do I have that right? Does it even matter?" Her gray eyes sought answers from her oldest son and trusted confidant.

"I can't answer that, Mother."

Jarrod picked up the cuff links and the photo. He studied his father, and like his mother, felt Tom Barkley reaching out. Those eyes, which Jarrod remembered all too well, held so much expression. Warm and light blue, they could reflect amusement, affection or anger, so much like the son he never knew. He heard the rustle of paper as she unfolded the brief letter and handed it to Jarrod.

"Why didn't Heath say something? He had this all along...the proof of his parentage."

Jarrod thought for a moment as he scanned the brief note. It was an eerie feeling to read his father's words, and read between the lines, the passion he had felt for Leah Thomson. He noted in the letter that she was the only woman he could have ever loved, save his Victoria. Three months he had lived with her and loved her. Jarrod felt angry at his father for using both women, but this indiscretion was twenty-two years gone. All the harsh words and broken vows could never be repaired. And what of Heath? He had been born into a situation over which he had no control and raised by a woman alone. From what he had gathered, she had been a strong woman who had armed herself with faith and courage and raised Heath to be a fine man. The letter ended with his father urging Leah to marry and have children. He folded it and handed back to his mother.

"For the same reason Leah Thomson had never used this evidence as blackmail. Heath has used honor and integrity as his shield and armed himself with pride. He doesn't need anything else. "

"I don't know, Jarrod. He's suffered so all these weeks. It could have made the difference."

"Or caused an irreparable rift. Heath needs to be accepted for who he is, not what he is or who his father was."

Victoria replaced the items in the bag and placed them back on the chest of drawers. She took Jarrod's arm and they silently exited the room.

Audra couldn't help notice the heat being generated from Heath's body. The sheet tourniquet that she had tied around his leg, was now soaked. She could only speculate that the wound in his leg was worse than he had tried to let on. Heath, on the other hand, was feeling a deep concern for Audra. He knew what a frightful experience this must be for her. He cherished his little sister and would give almost anything to have her safely back home with her family. From what he knew of kidnappers, even collecting the desired ransom wasn't a guarantee for safe passage. For now he would watch, wait and try to keep alert and if an opportunity for escape presented itself, he would seize it. Staying awake was going to be the hard part.

"Heath," Audra asked, "what are you thinking about?"

"Not a whole lot. Just feelin' bad that you had to get mixed up in all this."

"Well, it's my fault that we're here in the first place. I'm the one that spotted this old house. Remember?"

"Yeah, but I'm the one who took off when I should've stayed at home. I didn't even tell you where I was goin'."

"I guess in that case," Audra mused, "you might say we got ourselves in this together."

"All for one and one for all," Heath quoted, making an attempt to keep spirits light. "Isn't that how the sayin' goes?"

"If we were talking about the three musketeers it would be, but there are only two of us. Who do you suppose would be the third?"

"I don't know. Nick, maybe? He seems to like adventure."

"Yes," Audra agreed. "Nick certainly has his share of adventures. He took off right away last night, after the men who hurt you. He still hadn't returned by the time I left."

Heath's eyes widened. He was not so surprised that Nick would seek justice... Heath had seen enough of him to know that Nick would instinctively need to 'right a wrong'. What did surprise him was to hear that Nick would take out right away and that he would ride all night.

"You seem surprised that Nick would defend you," Audra continued.

"Oh, just that he's made it clear from the beginnin' that he don't want me around. It seems strange...him all of a sudden wantin' to stick up for me and all."

"I know he's said some cruel things, Heath, but once you really get to know Nick, you'll realize what a big heart he has. It was hard on all of us learning that my father was unfaithful to my mother, and Nick...well, he just always put Father on such a pedestal. The fact that he went after those two men shows that he cares."

"Yeah, could be," Heath mused, hoping that Nich had had a change of heart.

Audra hesitated in her response to listen to the drunken laughter coming from out in the main room of the farm house. The merriment mingled with occasional outbursts of howling and cussing made it sound like a lively time. She took a moment to think of Elliott and what he had meant to her. Would he actually allow any harm to come to her or Heath? Whenever she was in his company, he had always played the part of the perfect gentleman.

"Heath, he really does care," she finally replied. "Duke said he had fire in his eyes when he took off after Sinclair. Give him another chance, Heath. He's a good man and a wonderful brother. I'm pretty lucky to have three brothers whom I love so very much."

If Heath was a man of raw emotion, she would have seen tears welling up in his eyes, but Heath wasn't one to wear his heart on his sleeve. He had learned through the course of his life that exposing one's feelings was a sign of vulnerability and Heath was too much of a surviver to put himself in that position.

"Now, hold on there, Sis. You're puttin' the cart before the horse. First we gotta get outta this fix."

"Please don't go, Heath. Now that I care so very much for you, I couldn't bear it if you were to leave again."

Despite the extreme physical pain that Heath was experiencing and the uncomfortable and dangerous situation they were both in, a warm, happy feeling seemed to permeate his every fiber. Just hearing that he was loved and accepted was music to his ears. Except for what he had received from his mama, Rachael and Hannah, love was a gift most foreign to him. Already, he was beginning to feel the wonderous magic those words could bring as a little bit more of the anger and resentment that he had carried around for so long began to fade away.

"Thanks, Sis," he finally managed, his eyes saying what words could not.

"I know you care, Heath. You made that very clear by what you said at Elliot's the other day, and I'm sorry for the way I reacted. Your actions were simply a reflection of how much you do care."

She returned the shy smile that peeked up at her. Bending over, she kissed his forehead and brushed her fingers through his hair.

"You get some rest now, Big Brother. I'm on duty now."

"It's like they just vanished. I don't know where else to look," Nick sighed dejectedly.

Three days had gone by since Heath and Audra disappeared. The vast grounds of the ranch had been searched again and again. The sheriff had sent men out and wired the surrounding towns, but there was nothing. With each passing hour, Victoria grew more fearful. An invisible cloud of doom hung over the house. By the third day, the unsaid became more warranted...that Audra and Heath weren't coming back.

"Maybe Audra found Heath and he's not able to ride. We'll find them, Mother," Jarrod offered over the silent dinner table.

She pushed her plate away, excused herself and rose. She headed out the back door to the garden...a place where she often found comfort. The only sound in the room was the occasional clink of utensil against china.

The sound of the key turning in the latch woke Audra with a start. Heath had fallen asleep and she had drifted off shortly there after. Silently nudging him in the ribs, from where she sat on the floor next to him. She clasped her hands behind her as he began to stir. Suddenly, the door burst open and Wolf staggered in reeking of Glencairn Gold. His menacing, toothless smile was accented by the black patch covering his eye and the chilling scar that ran the length of his face. Salivating like the 'hungry wolf' that we was, he advanced toward Audra, his one good eye honing in like a divining rod.

"You and me's gonna have some fun, Missy," he drooled. "They've all passed out in there and you're all mine!"

"You stay away from me," she warned, glancing over at the semiconscious Heath.

"If I was you, Girlie, I'd be rememberin' that you're only here 'cause we allowed it," Wolf leered as he squatted down in front of her, his eye traveling the length of her blouse. "Now, unless you want me to treat you and that 'brother' of yours like useless baggage, you might want to start actin' a little more friendly li..."

Wolf's sentence was cut short as a hand clamped his throat from behind. Heath had regained consciousness long enough to see his golden opportunity served and set before him. The harboring resentment built up inside, along with the compelling urge to protect his sister, renewed the strength in his weakened and battered body. His vice-like grip closed in around the protruding Adam's apple as Heath gritted his teeth with determination.

Wolf let out a croak and gasped for air. Then suddenly, using all the strength in his two arms, he pulled Heath's right arm away. Momentarily losing his balance, Heath let go of the pervert's windpipe just long enough to give him the upper edge. Whipping his fist around, Wolf lopped Heath a good one, causing the stunned Barkley to collapse to the floor.

"How'd you get loose?" Wolf demanded as his scuffed boot imbedded it's toe in the already bruised ribs. The kick produced a low groan as Audra became feral.

"You leave him alone," she cried, hitting him for all she was worth.

Wolf wheeled and slapped her hard, forcefully driving her down to her knees. She tried to get up, but he hit her again.

"Take that, Wench!" he seethed, slapping her repeatedly.

Audra was still sobbing when Elliott appeared in the doorway.

"What's going on in here?" he questioned. "That'll be enough, Wolf. The family's not going to pay top dollar if the merchandise is damaged. Cheap as it may be," he added, scoffing. Looking over at Heath's collapsed and untied form his ire began to rise. "How'd he get loose?" Carrington demanded. "You guys were supposed to have tied him. Do I have to do everything myself?"

"How the hell would I know," Wolf growled. "Maybe Prissy Missy here's got ahold of a knife of somethin'."

Walking over to the bed, Elliott bent down and looked underneath. Pulling out the discarded pieces of rope, he walked over and held them in front of the teary Audra.

"Well, look what I found, Miss Barkley...cut up ropes! Now may I suggest that you hand that knife over, now, or I'll be forced to have my man here retrieve it for me."

Fishing the pocket knife out of her pants, Audra laid it in Elliott's open palm.

"Smart move, Princess. Now," he said, turning to Wolf and handing him the remnants of rope. "I want you to tie him up...and this time do it right!"

"What about her?" the cold-hearted man fumed. "There ain't enough rope left for both of 'em."

"Oh, I don't think Miss Barkley will be giving us any more trouble," he said looking down at the weeping Audra. "Will you, My Pet?"

Audra denied him the answer he was looking for, so Elliott answered for her.

"She says she'll behave," he said, turning to Wolf. "Tie up the bastard and then lock then both in. If you hadn't disturbed them, none of this would have happened."

"May...may we have some water, please?" Audra croaked, attempting to swap manners for a few precious drops of life.

"When you're through," Elliott instructed Wolf, "get them a fresh canteen of water."

Then rolling his shoulders back and holding his head high, Elliott strode out the door.

Roger Burke was also frustrated. He'd been trying to track down Sinclair or Barrett without any luck. He'd been to the ranch and felt the loss in the house. His duties with the paper didn't allow him to spend endless hours roaming the hillsides, but tomorrow, an old friend was coming to town to do Roger a favor. They worked together in San Francisco on the Chronicle, and Mike Young was the editor from whom Roger had learned so much. Retired now, he was happy to lend a hand.

"Hey, did you hear anything I said, Honey?"

"Huh? Oh, I'm sorry sweetheart. I've got a lot on my mind. What's up?"

"I think you're blaming yourself. I've never seen you so upset or absorbed in a story. Heath Barkley is a big boy. He could have asked for help. It's not your fault," the pretty brunette said, settling on the porch swing next to her husband.

"I shouldn't have seen him that morning. I should have gone to Jarrod first. Maybe if I had, he wouldn't have been beaten or be missing all this time," he uttered glumly.

He stroked the golden curls of his two-year old daughter who slept peacefully in his arms. The infant at his feet smiled up at him, her dark eyes happy and alert. He couldn't imagine losing them, or the awful pain if they were missing like the two Barkleys.

"Tomorrow's another day, Roger. I want your promise that you'll remember you're a writer, not the law. If anything ever happened to you..." Her voice trailed off.

He smiled and leaned over, cupping the pretty face. Drawing her in, he kissed her softly.

"I promise, Sunshine. My three princesses are my world. I'd never jeopardize that."

Nick had his usual early morning meeting with Duke. He went over the orders, signed some releases and gave directives. He finished the bitter coffee and rose. Nick rubbed a weary hand across his face. Whether it was merited or not, the guilt weighed heavily on Tom Barkley's middle son. What Heath had endured for almost six weeks now was bad enough, but then there was the added weight of Audra being gone. It was as if Duke knew what he was thinking. He heard the weathered voice and turned.

"Kicking yourself in the teeth again? I thought we settled that the other night. It won't help find them any sooner. You get on that horse, say a quick prayer and get moving. Go on, now, Nick."

"Yeah, I'll see you later, Duke."

Mike had filled in for Roger twice before and knew the ropes. Roger was able to get an early start. The previous several days, he'd spent hours staking out the Carrington House and spots near the ranch. He had hoped to find either the two weasels who beat Heath or Elliott Carrington, himself. He spotted the train coming in and reined his horse to a halt. Making his way over to the station, he looked around. Tim Duncan, the clerk, nodded at him. Following the boy's head, he spotted a mean-looking ombre, with a dark eye patch. Nodding back, he followed the stranger who was headed south of town. Slowing his pace, he followed at a distance.

He followed the stranger for hours and had it not been that Tim Duncan had given him great leads before, he'd have given up by now. He had asked the clerk about Carrington, Sinclair and Barrett. Tim remembered spotting Carrington with a scarred stranger wearing an eye patch. Roger paused briefly to get a drink. He frowned as far ahead the stranger stopped and waved his hat. Roger gulped and moved closer. His heart pounded when he spotted the two who joined the stranger. The three took off with the excited reporter racing behind.

"You two sure caused a pack of trouble," Wolf sneered as Barrett and Sinclair joined him.

"Couldn't be helped," Sinclair argued.

"If you'd done your job right, we'd still be sitting pretty at Elliott's place. You bungled the hit. You should've just taken out and shot him. Nobody'd be the wiser. "

"Listen, you, I have enough of your remarks...," Sinclair spat back.

"Enough!" Barrett placated. "Let's ride, we're late already."

Roger took so many turns he was afraid he wouldn't find his way back, but all of a sudden there was a clearing and an old farmhouse. He watched the trio disappear inside. He waited and slid off his gray mare and edged in closer. Creeping along the side of the house, he peeked in the window. He didn't see the gang members, but did spot the loot, piled high. He crept down to the next window and peeked inside. The first thing his eye caught was the raw wrists, tied behind the back of a prisoner. Next he saw the bloody tan thigh. He didn't have to see the face to know who the wounded man was. He heard Audra Barkley's voice, surprising calm, as she soothed her fevered brother.

"Come on, Heath, please take some water. You're burning up and it will help."

There was a pause and then her voice again praising his feeble effort. Roger had no time to spare. He didn't know this area and if he took a wrong turn, he'd end up lost. He climbed back on his horse and raced back towards Stockton.

Nick paused to let Coco have a long drink in the stream. He doused his head and took a drink as well. The afternoon sun beat down on him. He scanned the horizon and saw a rider approaching. His trained hand sought his gun on instinct. He strained as the rider got closer, hearing his name called.

Roger couldn't believe his luck. Here, just ahead of him, was Nick Barkley. He screamed Nick's name and saw the dark cowboy's head cock. He also saw the gun drawn and then announced himself.

"Roger?" Nick frowned as the reporter reined his horse in and fell off.

"Nick...," he panted out of breath and took the hand offered, "you got to hurry. I... they're up....Heath's been shot."

"Take it easy, Roger, slow down, " Nick said, pulling him off the ground. "Heath? Where is he?"

"Tim Duncan alerted me to a stranger who'd been meeting with Elliott. I followed him to an abandoned farmhouse about ten miles up the road. I looked in a couple of the windows. I saw the stolen goods piled in one room. Then I looked in the next window and saw Heath's leg, bandaged and bleeding. I heard your sister, trying to coax some water into him." He ended taking a deep breath.

"Good job, Roger!" Nick smacked the unsuspecting reporter hard on the back.

"I'll give you directions on how to find the place and then ride for the sheriff. I'll get word to Jarrod, too."

Nick nodded from Coco and took off, the wind whipping by his determined face. Sinclair and Barrett...this time he'd make sure they paid. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

Nick found the old farmhouse just where Roger said it would be. He tied Coco up in the underbrush and crept in, the late afternoon sun behind him. He spotted the barn next to the house and made his way over. Opening the door a crack, he peeked inside and saw only one horse. That meant the rest of the gang was out and left one guard. Smiling, he spun the chamber of his gun to make sure it was full, and crept back towards the house. He peered in the window nearest the front door and saw Audra's battered face. The rage fired up within him. He wanted nothing better than to use his bare hands on these brutes. A moan drew his attention to the form lying on the floor next to his sister. He watched as she leaned over and wiped the face of the prone man. He heard a familiar voice right next to the window where he knelt.

"Why don't you come over here, Sugar, and leave that sorry bastard alone. You're wasting your time fussin' over the likes of him. Seems to me we could get to know each other a little better," Barrett leered.

"I'd sooner kiss a rabid dog!" Audra stood and fired back defiantly, causing Nick to smile.

"You got a fresh tongue, Girl. I think it needs to learn a lesson," Barrett said, advancing.

Heath sat up and struggled to his feet, and staggered a few steps, putting himself between his sister and the skunk.

"You so much as breathe on her and I'll take you out," Heath spat.

"You and what army, Whelp? You with your bad leg and hands tied? Yeah, you got me scared." he laughed.

Heath charged and threw himself at the unsuspecting man, just as the door opened. The force of the impact sent him backwards into Nick, causing the gun to go off. Hank Barrett slid to the floor, his lifeless eyes unable to hide his surprise.

"Heath!" Nick cried. "Hold on, Boy, I'll get them ropes off you."

Heath nodded and then felt the binding ties give way. He heard Audra sobbing and almost cried in relief himself. Nick's strong arms pulled him upright and eased him back onto the bed. Nick handed him Barrett's gun which he jammed into his waistband.

"Audra, you okay?" he asked his sobbing sister who was clinging to him.

"I'm okay. We've got to hurry, Nick. They're only up the road. They'll be back any minute. They went to get the wagon."

"Okay, let's go," Nick said. "Heath, can you ride?"

"Yeah, but Nick..."

The sound of hooves and raucous laughter met their ears.

"Too late, they're back!" Heath gritted, limping to the window.

"We got two guns, and we got them dead on. We can take them out," Nick said from behind Heath.

"No we can't. Audra could get hit. It's too risky. Here, you take this and wait for me," Heath said handing his puzzled brother the gun.

"What are you doin'?" Nick asked.

"Audra, turn that table over and get behind it," Heath said. "Now, Audra...go!"

"I'm gonna go out the back and draw their attention. You slip out the front and surprise them," Heath said limping quickly to the back door.

"You can't do that!" Nick argued.

"They don't know you're here, Nick. I'm the only one that can. They'll think I'm escaping and follow. It's the only way. There's a stream right outside...down a hill...I can hide there. Now, there ain't gonna be any more jawin', they're right outside."

"That's suicide. I won't let you," Nick shouted.

"What do you care?" Heath said, eyeing his brother before slamming the door.

Nick started to argue, but the hail of gunfire drowned him out. Audra's head shot up and Nick screamed at her to get down. He ran out the door and around the side of the house. His heart sank as the cry of delight from one of the pack rang through the air.

"I got 'im! He's done, let's get the girl and get outta here."

Nick dropped to the ground and rolled over, firing all the while. One fell mortally wounded, one slumped over his horse and rode off as two more scrambled off through the underbrush.

He lay in the dirt, gasping and trying to swallow down the bitterness. The words hit him again like blades cutting into his gut...'he's done'. Nick closed his eyes to the thought of having to make the painful journey down to the water and find his brother's lifeless body. He scrambled to his feet and ran to the edge of the hill. He scanned the riverbank but saw no sign of Heath

"Nick?" Aura inquired painfully.

"I don't know. I can't see him."

"There!" she cried, racing down the hill and throwing herself into the water.

Nick wasted no time and followed her. Heath was lying face down in the shallow end of the water. Nick hooked his hands under Heath's arms and pulled him up onto the bank. He turned his brother over carefully. His eyes found the wound fast enough. The left side of his soaked shirt was taking on a redish hue. Nick's hand sought a pulse at the throat.

"He's so pale, so still. Nick, he's not dead is he?" Audra knelt by the wounded man's side.

Nick's mouth opened and closed without a word. His painful gaze told her what she couldn't bear to hear.

"No! No, Heath!" she cried, throwing herself over his chest.

Nick pulled his brother upright so that Heath rested against his chest, the soggy-bandaged head rested under Nick's chin. He wrapped his arms around his younger brother and felt a horrid coldness inside him. He held him close, somehow trying to will the life back into him. His stuttered at first, then the words came, brief and heartfelt.

Audra raised her head, her fury at Nick building. This was all his fault. His brutal treatment all these weeks and the lack of support had pushed Heath into this fatal corner. She was about to unleash her fury on him, when she saw the tortured pain etched in his face and the unspeakable grief in his eyes. She watched him rock and talk into Heath's ear.

"God, what have I done? He'll never know...I wanted to tell you...should have sooner. Heath, I'm sorry. You deserved a lot better than me. I..."

Audra's tears blurred her vision and at first she thought she was seeing things. She sniffed loudly and rubbed the salty water from her eyes. No, it was real!

"HEATH!" she buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed. "THANK GOD!"

Nick felt Heath's head turn and a shiver ran through him. He laid his brother gently on the ground and smiled at the two blue slits that met his damp eyes.

"Heath, you hang on, Boy. We'll get you to a doctor," Nick boomed. Then turning to Audra, he ordered, "you get back to that house and get blankets and anything we can use for bandages. Then, fill the canteens and put them in that wagon and bring it here. Go, Audra, run," Nick commanded.

Nick pulled the wet shirt up and saw the blood pumping from Heath's side. He put pressure on the wound and spoke words of encouragement. The eyes were closed again, but Nick leaned in close and felt the raspy breath caress his cheek. He bent close to Heath's ear and continued to talk to him.

"You gotta fight, Heath. You're gonna be fine. You got a slug in your side. I'm sorry, Heath...sorry for everything. You pull through this, you hear me? We got a lot to talk about...Little Brother."

Heath didn't have the strength to open his eyes which seemed to be weighted with sandbags. He was cold...so very cold. He felt the strong arms hold him and heard every word Nick said. The words 'Little Brother' sounded strange but warmed him a bit. He smiled as the phrase settled into his chest for a permanent stay. Nick saw the brief smile and held his shivering brother closer, keeping him warm.

"He knows," he thought, "At least that's something." He heard Audra call out and lifted his brother.

The black clouds opened up, spilling rain and sending thunder loud enough to chase them all the way to Benton City. Nick drove the wagon forward, peering through the sheets of water. Audra was under blankets in the back, trying to keep Heath warm and dry. She spoke to him constantly, running her hands through his hair, telling him how much she cared. Nick reined the team in as he passed another rider, coming out of town.

"Where's the doctor's place?"

"White clapboard end of Main Street...right across from the Silver Star Inn."

"Thanks."

Nick found the house right away and jumped down. His loud banging soon had the door open. A middle-aged woman peered out at him.

"My brother been's shot by a gang of thieves. He's in a bad way."

"Bring him right in," she hollered over a clap of thunder.

Audra ran in ahead of Nick who bore his brother's weight effortlessly.

"Top of the stairs," the woman said, shutting the door. "I'll get the doctor. You get those wet things off of him."

Nick struggled near the top of the stairs, his adrenaline giving out. He laid Heath on the bed and took the wet boots and shirt off. The doctor's wife appeared, and saw Audra shivering and took her elbow.

"You need a bath and some clean clothes. I can fix that. It's going to be a long night, you'll want to be comfortable."

Audra nodded gratefully and walked over to the bed. Bending down she took the limp hand and kissed her brother's cheek. Her tears hit his face and she spoke.

"It's Audra, Heath. You take is easy, the doctor will be right in. I love you." She smiled at the weak squeeze he gave.

She started to follow the doctor's wife and paused. She remembered the awful pain she saw on Nick's face by the creek. She remembered his words, too. She walked around the bed and hugged him. They stayed like that for several seconds. She heard the catch in his voice.

"Thank you, Audra. I needed that."

She smiled up at him and left, closing the door behind her.

Nick finished removing the wet clothes and pulled the blanket up to Heath's chest. It was then the doctor came in and went right to the bed.

"I'm Doctor Dugan. My wife told me your brother's been wounded. Let's have a look."

He glanced at the two wounds and made a quick examination. Nick saw him looking at the dirty head bandage.

"He's got a concussion from earlier this week, " Nick offered, as the doctor spoke.

"I won't lie to you, Son, he's not doing very well. He's lost a lot of blood and he's very weak. I'll operate after I get the instruments sterilized. I'll be right back. "

Heath's movements caused Nick to place a hand on the thrashing man. He felt the heat on his hands as the fever raced through his brother's weakened system.

"Stop that, Heath, you'll only hurt yourself. You're sides bleeding, now cut it out. I know you're hot, hang on a minute."

He crossed the room and poured cool water into the porcelain bowl. Draping the linen towel across this shoulder, he retraced his steps and placed the bowl on the bedside table. He eased himself onto the bed and talked to Heath as he wiped his face, neck and shoulders.

The fever that caused his flesh to burn so, made him shiver and thrash. The pain in his side had built to a crescendo that could no longer be stemmed. He gasped, realizing that the scream that caused his eyes to open, was his own. He saw Nick turn and the worried look that met him. The unshaven face seemed a good fit to the haunted eyes and haggard features. He closed his eyes and shivered, looking up again as Nick stood by his shoulder.

Heath's fevered face went by his brother's and took a slow, painful journey around the room. Scowling at the unfamiliar surroundings, he closed his eyes once more. He thought of his sister, what had happened to her? Was she safe?

"Aud. dra. .?" he croaked feebly.

"She's down the hall. She's fine," the brusk reply came.

Nodding, he gripped the sheet with a bloody fist and bit back a cry as another wave of pain stabbed him. Much as his anger for Nick still resided inside, a part of him was just as angry at himself. Some of this could have been avoided if he hadn't been so stubborn. If only he'd had the patience and wisdom to realize just how much time it takes to learn to fit in and become a member of a family, to reach out when your down and not bury your head and sulk.

Nick's mind raced as he struggled to find the right words. He wanted to let Heath know that he was wrong and how sorry he was for all this mess...that if only Heath would come back, they'd talk...or rather, he would listen. He would listen to what this troubled younger brother of his had to say. Raising his eyebrows, he suddenly found he like the sound of that...'younger brother'...and wanted so very much to keep him near. He wiped the sweaty face and tried in vain to soothe the fevered flesh. He heard the moan and saw the white knuckles peeping through the bloodied fist where it clutched the sheet. He gritted his teeth, sensing how much pain the younger man was in.

"Heath, can you hear me?" he pleaded, his hazel eyes beckoning.

Heath's eyes opened a slit and he nodded weakly. It was all he could do to remain awake.

"Good, that 's good," Nick stumbled. " Listen, I uh. about these last weeks since you came to us. I . I didn't really give you a fair shake." He paused, concerned, as the pale eyes closed. He held his breath and then let it out as we watched the eyelids open again. "Maybe I ought to introduce myself, I'm Nick Barkley," he said, offering his hand.

Heath looked from the hand back up to Nick's face. He squinted against the pain and stared hard. He saw something there that was missing before. The hazel eyes were full of concern, and more important, respect. That which he'd fought so hard to attain, the one thing deep down he wanted from Nick Barkley, was staring right back at him. He lifted his hand and felt the strong grip. He opened his mouth, but it was hard to speak. He saw Nick lean down close.

"I'm. ..Heath. ," he swallowed fighting the black curtain. ". Thomson," he gasped, not noticing the shoulders slump and the defeated hazel eyes.

Thomson...Nick's heart dropped. One simple word that said so much. He wasn't taking the name. He'd go on his path, an unclear one, as Heath Thomson. Nick felt a great pain inside, realizing too late how much this gutsy young man meant to him. Here was the younger brother he had always wanted...a partner to share the dream and help carry the load.

". .Barkley," Heath forced out, using his last ounce of strength as he smiled up weakly at the look of enormous relief and emotion on his brother's face.

"Boy, you sure know how to scare a guy," Nick teased. "You hang in there...things are gonna be different. You got my word."

Nick saw the lips moving and the frustration at the willing mind and weak body. He watched the sweat soaked blond head swivel in anger and grabbed the flushed cheek.

"Take it easy. Whatever it is can wait till your better."

A wave of pain interrupted any further discussion. Heath cried outloud and grabbed the sheet with one hand, gaining strength from Nick's firm grasp on the other.

"DOCTOR, GET IN HERE!"

Nick turned back at the soft laugh and leaned in.

"Still. .givin'. .orders."

"Yeah, well, some habits are hard to break."

Heath realized that Nicks' bark was worse than his bite. That what he had previously thought was arrogance and cockiness, and maybe even that swagger, was really passion. A man who loved his family and land so much he'd fight anybody who threatened them. That fierce loyalty to bloodties and all that was rightfully his. Heath liked the feeling, and felt it very clearly through Nick's strong hand as it gripped his. He wanted this brother and it was about time he himself started acting like one.

" Nick. "

Nick leaned close to the pale lips barely moving, "You pick a fine time to start talking," Nick teased, referring to the brooding silence that was his brother's trademark.

"Need to say. I. got . a lot. to. to. "

"Don't talk, Heath. You can tell me later."

"Now," he countered weakly, fighting. "I...got much . to. learn . about. this... brother. business. too. okay?"

Nick laughed, squeezed the limp hand and ran a hand through the matted, wet head.

"We got a whole lifetime of learning ahead of us. You just rest now."

Nick saw the head nod and straightened up and turned as the doctor arrived. His wife followed him, carrying the heated instruments of surgery. Nick backed away as the doctor pulled the sheet back revealing Heath's wounds.

Leaning down to the pale young man, the doctor took his pulse as he spoke.

"How long ago did this happen, Mister...?"

"Barkley, uh Nick Barkley," Nick offered as Heath's lips moved silently. "That there is Heath," he paused, drilling the sky eyes with his own. "By any other name, my brother."

The smile that shone up from the bed was crooked, or lopsided or half a grin. Whatever it was, it found a spot in Nick's heart. Thomson or Barkley...the name didn't matter...this was his brother. The broad smile he cast back soon dissolved as a rack of pain caused a loud moan. Heath's eyes rolled in his head and he went deathly silent.

"Heath! Heath!" Nick ran to the other side of the bed, the doctor's wife pulling at him.

"He's okay," The doctor reassured. "What happened?"

"He got that," Nick said pointing to the dirty, bandaged leg wound, "a few days ago. The one in his side is from this afternoon."

"There's no time to waste. I'll have to ask you to leave, now. My wife will be assisting me. You can wait downstairs," The doctor said coolly.

Seeing the stricken look on the dark-haired man's face, he walked him to the door. Patting his shoulder he eased his tone.

"He's young and strong, I'll do my best. The only thing you can do now is wait, and maybe pray."

Jarrod rode into Benton City just before sunset. The poncho he wore managed to protect him slightly from the steady rain. Benton City was a little smaller than Stockton. Jarrod had only been here once, but remembered where the sheriff's office was. The gray haired man looked up as he entered.

"Hello, I'm Jarrod Barkley. I was hoping you could tell me if my brothers and sister are in town. I have a feeling one of my brothers may be injured."

"You'd be right. I'm Paul Kane, the Marshall. Doctor Dugan sent word down late last night. The wire came earlier from Sheriff Madden about that gang holdin' your brother and sister. Guess your other brother must have caught up to them. My deputy and I rode out to that abandoned farm they were usin' this mornin'. Two were dead and we found one later, wounded. Sheriff Madden sent a telegram sayin'...," the lawman stopped to read his notes. "Uh...here it is. Sinclair and Carrington are still missing."

"Yes, that's all well and good, but what about my brother? I saw your men at the farm and stopped. I saw the blood," Jarrod fretted.

"Young fellow with yella hair and a funny name...," he paused.

"Heath," Jarrod said, disheartened.

"Yeah, that's it. Took two bullets. The doc did his best. I checked a little while ago ...he's holding his own. Your other brother was with him."

"My sister?" Jarrod inquired.

"She was roughed up a little, but appeared to be okay. She was with your brothers when I stopped in earlier."

"Thanks, Sheriff. Where are they?"

"Your welcome, Mr. Barkley. From what your sister said, that Heath fella dang near got himself killed makin' himself a target. After hearin' her and your brother's report, I don't know if he was being foolish or heroic."

"That's often a gray area, Sheriff," Jarrod added.

"Well said, Son. They're at the doc's. It's the white clapboard with blue shutters at the end of the street. Nice little inn on the other side if you need a room."

"Much obliged, Sheriff."

Jarrod found the house easily and wasted no time getting to the door. A woman answered and ushered him in, the rain blowing in with him.

"I'm Jarrod Barkley. I'm looking for my brothers and sister."

"Hello, Mr. Barkley, I'm Agnes Dugan. My husband, Joseph, is the doctor. Your brother is running a fever, but he's a fighter. We think he'll pull through just fine," she eased, smiling.

"Jarrod? Oh Jarrod, thank God you're here," a soft voice cried.

Turning, he felt a stab of pain as he took in her bruised face. She ran to him not caring about the wet cloak her wore. Touching her discolored skin, he looked deep into the blue eyes.

"Are you okay, Honey?"

"I'm fine...but Heath. Jarrod, you can't believe what he did. He ran out the back door of that farmhouse to lure them away. Nick had just arrived and they were right on his tail. There wasn't time to think. Nick didn't like the plan, but Heath was gone before he could protest. We heard the shots, Nick ran out front and took down a few of them but a couple got away. Jarrod, he just ...you didn't see him when we pulled him out of the river. He was so cold and pale, it was horrible. I thought he was... dead," she sobbed.

Jarrod absorbed the story and kissed the top of the flaxen head.

"Audra, I've rented a couple of rooms at the inn across the street. Go get some sleep. Nick and I will be over later and we'll get something to eat, okay," he said, wiping the tears away.

"All right," she agreed, and hugged him hard. "I'm so glad you're here. He needs all of us, you know. And he needs to know how much we need him. Does Mother know?"

"I sent her a wire. The stage line was upset by a mudslide. I don't think she'll be able to get here for a few days. But, then again, this is Mother we're talking about," he smiled.

"Nick, how is he?"

Nick turned in surprise as the sound of Jarrod's voice drifted across the darkened room. He saw the worried look on his oldest brother's face as he cast off his dripping poncho and approached the bed. He turned to face Nick after his hand left the flushed cheek of his youngest brother. He lifted the sheet and his shocked eyes took in the double wounds.

"Nick?" his piecing blue eyes implored.

"He took one in his side...it got stuck in a rib. It was a difficult dig, but the doctor got it out. The shot to the thigh was a deep graze, but he lost blood and it got infected. That's why he's so feverish," Nick sighed as he ran a hand through his dark hair.

Jarrod walked around the table and stood next to the chair where Nick sat downcast. He couldn't remember the last time Nick looked so bad. Not that a hot bath, shave, meal and a good night's sleep wouldn't help the beleaguered man, but there was something else...something troubling in his eyes.

"Did you have anything to eat?" Jarrod asked.

"Not hungry."

"Nick, we have to talk. I..."

Jarrod's thought was interrupted by a moan from the bed. Nick jumped up so fast he nearly bowled Jarrod over. Jarrod watched with wonder and felt his heart gladden at the tenderness Nick bestowed on the injured Barkley.

"Heath? You're gonna be fine. Don't move. You need to stay still and rest."

"...dry...water...," he pleaded, licking his parched lips.

Nick placed one hand carefully behind the scalding neck and raised the damp, bandaged head. Lifting the glass by the bedside, he gently gave instructions.

"Just a little sip," Nick coached as the patient took in a good amount. "I said 'a little sip'. Boy, you need to learn to listen to me."

"...be like...like...missin' a...a...a...hurricane," Heath gasped as Nick eased him back on the pillow and smiled.

"...bullet...out?" he weakly questioned, trying to open his eyes.

"Yeah, it was kinda ornery, but it finally gave in," Nick replied.

"...should ...name...it...Nick...," Heath teased.

Jarrod's chuckle at Heath's remark and the scowl on Nick caused the eyes to open slightly. Jarrod watched the blue slits regard him with caution. The lips moved and Jarrod leaned in to reassure his brother.

"...are...you..doin'...here...Jar..Jar..." His voice trailed off as his eyes tried to focus on the man bending in.

"Take it easy. With any luck and a long stead of good health, I intend to be by your side for many years to come, Brother Heath."

"...m okay with that...that...I...I..."

"Heath, you sleep now. We'll talk later," Jarrod reassured, pulling the sheet up to the flushed neck.

"You know, Little Brother," Nick chimed, liking the way the words rolled off his tongue, "you've said more while you were flat on your back than in all the six weeks you've been here."

"...seems when I tried ...say...something...your fist got...got...in ...the way," he gasped, eyeing Nick with a little grin.

"Yeah, well as I recall, you weren't exactly shy when it came to introducing your knuckles to my face," Nick retorted playfully.

Heath smiled and his heavy eyes went from one brother to the other. A warm feeling crept up inside his gut and took a firm hold. He didn't understand this feeling...it was something new to him. A tingling was born inside as the bonding process started. It seemed to him like some folks went through a whole lifetime without appreciating what they had. Heath intended to embrace this new family of his.

"What are you grinning at?" Nick demanded suspiciously.

"...thinkin'...all...work..." Heath's eyes drooped.

"I believe he was thinking of all the work you'll be doing, while he's being waited on hand and foot by Mother and Audra. Right Heath?" Jarrod advised.

The eyes didn't budge but the head nodded and that crooked grin once again touched Nick. Jarrod tapped Nick's arm and they walked across the room. He pulled out the small leather satchel.

"Nick, I have some information about Heath. This is the proof you were looking for."

Jarrod started to tell Nick of the phot and letter he'd uncovered, but before he could utter a word, Nick stopped him.

"It ain't necessary," Nick's confident eyes drilled Jarrod's surprised ones. "I got all the proof I need right here," he said, tapping his chest. "That boy is a Barkley..every inch of him. Some folks may need proof, but I don't. He's got the Barkley brand on him...stamped on his soul." The dark cowboy's voice was full of pride as he finished.

Jarrod nodded in relief. Nick had found proof far more stirring and deep that anything in print or any portrait could produce. He looked over Nick's shoulder as the head weakly turned on the pillow. Nick's words had found their way into the wounded man's heart. Nick didn't realize it, but Jarrod knew. He saw the blue slits close and the smile that lingered.

"You get some dinner, a hot bath and some sleep. I've been a bit shortsighted in my responsibilities. I'd like to spend some time with Heath. Go on, you look beat."

"Okay, I'll be back later," Nick said. "How'd the sheriff make out? Any word on Elliott and the rest?"

"Two were dead at the cabin, one wounded man was found a little later. The posse caught up with one more, but Elliott and Sinclair are still missing."

"Dammit!" Nick pounded the wall and winced. "I should have finished the sorry scoundrel off back at the line shack."

"They'll be caught...Fred's combing the area. They won't get far. The information Heath got from Carrington's house as well as the bounty at the abandoned farm is more than enough to put him away for quite some time. I'm sure the District Attorney will try for a murder charge."

"I'm goin' after them," Nick steeled.

Nick turned once more and walked over to the bed. He looked down at the sleeping form of his brother. Touching the bandage on his head, he scowled at the thought of the weeks of pain and prejudice Heath had endured without his support. Those days were ended, but Nick made a vow, looking at his father's son. Never again would anyone hurl those hurtful names, slanderous remarks or raise a hand at Heath. He thought of all the battles the younger man must have fought alone. Finishing his silent pledge, he patted the slumbering chest before departing.

In the years to come, it would be hard to believe the two hadn't been raised together. Working side by side, they would form a bond so deep that it would be hard to find any two brothers closer. Oh, they'd argue and curse at each other now and then...often butting heads over the growing ranch and Barkley holdings. But if anyone else dared to impugn Heath's name or standing in the family, he would soon find himself on the end of Nick's wrath, on a fast horse out of town, or both.

Jarrod started to argue but saw the deep emotion on Nick's face. He followed the weary tracker into the hall and down the stairs. He nodded to Mrs. Dugan, the doctor's wife, as she entered Heath's room as promised, to give the brothers a little break. Nick reached for the door handle, and then Jarrod stopped him. Putting his back to the door, he prevented the vengeful man's departure.

"I know how you feel, Nick, but this wont' help. You can't..."

"You don't know how I feel," Nick charged, leveling a stern gaze into Jarrod's bright eyes. "I got a score to settle, and not just for Heath and Audra. He used us, Jarrod. Elliott Carrington, someone I used to call 'friend', came into my home and used me and my family. Heath didn't think twice. He made himself a target for that pack. He knew the risk and it almost killed him. Elliott's gonna pay for this. I want to be in that courtroom when they sentence his sorry hide.

"And Sinclair?" Jarrod sought.

Nick didn't answer, but the clenched jaw and penetrating gaze gave the lawyer his proof. He couldn't stop Nick, but maybe he could calm him down.

"All right, Nick, but at least get some food and a little sleep. I rented a couple of rooms in the inn across the street. It's dark out and still raining hard. What do you say?"

"Okay, Jarrod, but you, the sheriff or a whole blasted army won't stop me."

The sun was up and the sky was blue for the first time in days. Jarrod finished dressing and went downstairs. The dining room of the small inn was empty, and Jarrod took a table by the window. Nick had been up and out before dawn. Jarrod had heard Nick leave as he returned from the doctor's office during the wee hours of the morning. Heath still hadn't regained consciousness, but Jarrod had found comfort just from being near his side. Nick and Jarrod had talked for quite some time the previous night. The eldest Barkley hoped his reasoning had sunk into his hot-headed brother, but Nick had only one goal in mind...retribution. As he rode back toward Stockton, Jarrod thought maybe his brother would become more level-headed as.

"Good morning."

"Good morning, Audra." Jarrod looked up and winced at the fading bruises on his sister's face. "How are you today?"

"I'm all right, Jarrod. It looks a lot worse than it feels," she pacified. "Where's Nick?"

"Up and out before the first light. He's going after Sinclair and Elliott Carrington." Jarrod noted Audra's pained expression at the mention of Carrington's name.

"He used me, Jarrod. I really cared for him. I thought...maybe, that he and I would...," her voice died out and she felt tears prickling her pale blue eyes.

"I know you're hurt, Honey, and I'm sorry. I wish I could take the pain away. He wasn't always that way. I guess failing at college and the rift between he and his father was too much of a strain," Jarrod mused.

"You're making excuses for him!" Audra angered. "He's a vile beast and he nearly killed Heath. Don't you dare defend him to me!"

"Calm down, Audra. I'm not making excuses for what he did...rather trying to explain how he changed so much," Jarrod tried.

"Can we change the subject, please?" she gritted.

"I'd like to ride out with the sheriff to the farmhouse this morning. Your horses are down at the livery. "

"Fine. I'll stay with Heath. I want to talk to him...thank him for what he did," she said quietly.

"I'm sure you'll be the best medicine for him. Pretty nurses seem a little scarce in these parts!" he joked, glad for the smile it brought.

The waitress came and they ordered a full breakfast. The hot coffee and cold orange juice were followed by ham, eggs, toast and fruit. Everything was good and they each felt renewed as they headed out for the day.

Audra thanked Mrs. Dugan, who'd been sitting with Heath since Jarrod had left. He was sleeping peacefully...still feverish, but stronger. Mrs. Dugan assured her that the doctor had been in at dawn and was pleased. Audra kissed the flushed cheek and gave her brother a warm 'good morning' hoping for those blue eyes to open for her. He didn't stir and she settled into the chair by his bed. Looking at the horizon, she wondered where Nick was and prayed for his safe return.

It was almost three p.m. when Jarrod finished at the sheriff's office. He wired Fred Madden in Stockton, letting him know of the inventory they'd found. Banjo Jones would recover from his wounds and stand trial for a host of crimes, the most glaring, murder. He found Dr. Dugan in the front hall as he entered. The doctor smiled and placed a hand on the worried man's shoulder.

"Let me take that fear out of your eyes, Mr. Barkley, he's going to make a full recovery. His fever is coming down and his breathing is much better. He'll be in a considerable amount of pain, and therefore heavily medicated. He's weak, but with some food, medicine and a couple week's rest, he'll be able to travel home."

Jarrod sighed before replying, "Doctor, you made my day. He's been on my mind since I left this morning. Is he awake?"

"He is, and your sister looks tired. Good time for a shift change." The doctor watched Jarrod climb the stairs.

Jarrod entered the room and waved as Heath gave him a weak smile. Audra was dozing. Jarrod sat on the edge of the bed and eyed the drowsy nurse.

"It would appear your nurse is sleeping on the job, Heath."

"She's been...here...all day. Told her...go...she...," Heath coughed and winced, sucking his breath through his teeth.

Jarrod saw the pain register and helped Heath sit up a little. Another spasm overtook the wounded man and he grabbed Jarrod's hand.

"Better?" he asked.

Heath nodded and eased back on the stack of pillows, resting his eyes. Jarrod walked around the bed and shook his sister gently. She jumped a bit, startled, and then looked around.

"I must have dozed off," she said sleepily.

"Shift change, Little Sister. You get some rest and something to eat. I'll see you later."

Audra kissed Heath's forehead and was about to leave when her wrist was snagged. Looking down, she saw the half-mast blue eyes shining up at her.

"Thanks," he managed.

"Heath, you don't have to keep thanking me. You keep forgetting...you're part of a family now. Taking care of someone you love isn't a chore. Okay? Now don't talk Jarrod's ear off."

"You thirsty, Heath?" Jarrod asked.

He poured a cup of water and held the cool liquid so his brother could drink. His hands felt the heat coming through the skin on Heath's neck. He replaced the cup and poured some water into the bowl. Dampening a linen towel, he welcomed the smile of relief as his ministrations were appreciated.

"I went out to the farm today and took an inventory for Fred," Jarrod said, turning the chair to face Heath.

"...gang?" Heath blinked.

"Most of them are dead, including Barret. Sinclair and Carrington are still on the loose. Nick went after them."

"...alone?" Heath's eyes feared.

"Yes, but he's promised me he'll keep his cool. You'll soon understand how very deeply that brother of ours feels when it comes to his family. No obstacle is too great, no mountain too high, no river too deep...you get my meaning?"

Heath nodded and sighed, shaking his head. So much of this could have been avoided. But the important thing was for Nick to get back safely.

"You know, Heath, that gang was wanted in several states dating back five years ago. You're a real hero. Audra and Nick told me what you did. I'd say that reaction just about sealed your fate, didn't it?" Jarrod tested.

"Reckon, it did...no hero...don't like...please," Heath grimaced.

"Stop being so humble. Don't be surprised if there is a front page story with your picture and 'hero' under it. Roger is just salivating at the thought, I'm sure," Jarrod grinned.

"No way," Heath shook his head.

"Oh, by the way, Mother is coming. She should be here by morning. It would take a whole lot more than a mudslide to deter her." He watched Heath scowl and look away.

"...shouldn't for me...she's quite...lady." Heath coughed again, white knuckling the sheets.

"She's a formidable force, Heath. She cares very much for you and I think you care for her, too. Nobody will ever replace your mother, Heath, but she's a wonderfully strong and giving woman. You'll...," Jarrod looked over as Heath met his eyes and nodded, smiling.

"...scares me...little," he grinned.

"She scares all of us a little, Heath," Jarrod said, returning the smile. "Now you get some rest. I'll be right here."

Heath tried to sleep but the throbbing pain in his side wouldn't let him. He shifted restlessly and each time a painful cough was produced, the strong hands were right there to help him. Twice he looked at Jarrod and felt such comfort from those brilliant blue eyes. Jarrod finally put his foot down and made the restless body take some medicine.

"Not...time yet..,"Heath protested.

"Heath, stop arguing and swallow. Don't you know better than to argue with a lawyer?" Jarrod teased, easing the bitter medicine and cool water down his brother's throat.

"...pulling rank?" Heath complained in jest.

"Yes, well, rank does have it's privileges. Being the eldest, it goes with the territory."

Jarrod saw him shivering and pulled the sheet up. Placing a hand on his head, he frowned. The fever seemed a little higher. Heath pushed his hand away and scowled.

"You...worse than Audra...stop fussin'."

"Sorry, Brother, no dice. Are you hungry?"

"Not really...little, maybe."

"I'll see if I can scare up some broth, okay?"

An hour later the bowl of broth and a carafe of orange juice were drained. Heath slept peacefully and his brother watched the sunset, wondering where the missing member of the trio was.

The buggy stopped in front of the Silver Star Inn. Jumping down and grabbing the bag from the back seat, the driver put out his hand to assist Victoria as she stepped down onto the street.

"I'll carry your bag in for you, Ma'am," he offered.

"Please," Victoria requested, nervously eyeing the doctor's office across the street. "Would you just take it in and have the clerk leave it in my room?"

"Surely....why, thank you, Ma'am," he beamed as she placed a one dollar gold piece in his hand.

Hitching her skirt, Victoria hurried over to the small clapboard building. Bracing herself, she gave the door several hard raps. Agnes Dugan opened the door. Her eyes looked fatigued and stray brown hairs had escaped the clutches of the bun wrapped tightly behind her head.

"You must be Mrs. Barkley. Please, won't you come in?" she offered.

"My son...," Victoria hesitated, her reference to Heath seeming awkward and out of place. As much as she cared for the boy, their relationship still held some barriers. "Heath...how's Heath?" she continued.

"Holding his own," Agnes replied. "His brothers and sister have been with him around the clock. It's always helpful when a patient with injuries as severe as his has those he loves close by. I think that's what really helped pull him through."

"Please," Victoria asked impatiently, "I want to see him."

Victoria followed the doctor's wife to the room upstairs. Heath lay soundly sleeping on the bed while Audra sat close by.

"Mother!" Audra exclaimed, looking up from her book.

"Audra!" Victoria gasped as she took in her beautiful daughter's battered face. "Your face, Sweetheart...what did those animals do to you?"

"I'm okay...really I am," Audra reassured as she tightly embraced the mother she loved. "Heath's the one who got the worst of it."

Audra turned and looked wistfully at her battered brother. Taking Victoria's hand, the two woman walked over to the edge of the bed. Reaching out, Victoria gently stroked the cheek of her husband's son.

"Has he regained consciousness at all?" she whispered.

"Oh, yes, he's been awake," Audra answered. "The doctor gave him some real strong medicine to help ease the pain so he could get some rest. It's pretty strong ...just a teaspoon seems to knock him out."

"I'm still in the dark as to what exactly happened," Victoria stated. "I've been able to put some bits and pieces together, but perhaps you could explain. How is it that Heath was shot?"

"He jeoparadized his life for ours," Audra responded softly. "Back at that deserted house, he ran out and drew their fire so that Nick and I would be safe."

Victoria seemed startled and asked Audra to recount their adventure from start to finish. Victoria's eyes were brimming with tears when her daughter finished telling the tale of terrible abuse and Heath's heroic efforts. Years of experience had told her that he was a fine man with strong moral fiber, but now hearing these words proved just how accurate her discernment had been. She was also thankful to hear of Nick's care and concern for his younger brother. Just as she had thought, things would work themselves out. Her only regrets were that it took such extreme measures for Nick to finally come to his senses.

"Audra," Victoria suggested, "why don't you go get something to eat. I'd like to sit with Heath for a while. By the way, where's Jarrod?"

"He went back across the street to try and catch a few winks of shuteye. He was up and down throughout the night. He said he had trouble sleeping and didn't get much rest. I'll go knock on his door and see if he wants to join me for a bite to eat."

Though Audra's face was as dark as the thunder clouds that had covered the skies for days, her sweet smile broke through as did the morning sun, warming Victoria's heart with it's effervescent rays. Kissing her mother, she retreated from the room, leaving Victoria to spend some time nurturing her injured brother.

It was past noon when Nick left Sheriff Madden's office. He'd stopped by the ranch but his mother was already gone. He should have guessed she'd be out by first light. According to Ciego, she was going to take the Stage as far as Rosedale where the mudslide blocked the road. She figured she'd be on the first stage out the following day when the road opened and be that much closer to Heath's side. Nick's heart was full of admiration as he thought of his mother. She had taken Heath into her heart as well as her home. He was looking forward to spending some time getting to know his quiet, younger brother as well.

"Nick! Didn't expect you this soon. You must have left in the middle of the night," Fred said, rising from behind his desk.

"Don't know what time it was. I had to get out of there. I got an itch inside that won't go away until them cowards are behind bars."

"How is he, NIck?"

"Still breathing. He's a Barkley, so you know he's a fighter. The doc took a slug out of his ribs. He'll have a tough go of it, but he'll pull through."

"I'll put a word in for him with the man upstairs," Fred added as Nick poured a half cup of coffee and wolfed down a cinnamon roll from a plate on Fred's desk.

Nick nodded his thanks and drained the coffee, listening intently as Stockton's sheriff filled him in on his prey.

"We have a lead on Elliott Carrington. I wired a description to the sheriffs in several surrounding counties. I got a wire back this morning, from the Marshall in Sonora, George Gomez. He's pretty sure Carrington was there last night. He checked at the hotels and boarding houses and says it looks as though Carrington was there as of this morning. If you leave now, you ought to make good time. Check in with the sheriff when you get there. I'll wire him sayin' that you're on your way."

"Thanks, Fred. I'll send word. Do me a favor and wire Jarrod...he'll be worried."

"Will do, Nick," he said, patting Nick on the back as they walked outside. "You listen to me, Son. Don't you go taking the law into your own hands. You bring him in alive, you got me?"

"Yeah, I know. You sound like Jarrod. Don't you two think I got any sense at all?" Nick growled and then added after seeing Fred's all knowing glance and raised eyebrows, "Don't answer that. You got my word I'll turn him over to the law."

Nick urged Coco onward seeking to get to Sonora as quickly as possible. Fred wondered if Elliott Carrington would be able to survive the full fury and force of Nick Barkley's wrath.

The rustling of bedsheets and the sound of Heath stirring caused Audra to look up from the book she was reading. She noticed the blankets moving as Heath twitched restlessly under the covers. Reshifting his position, he flopped over, enabling her to see his disturbed countenance.

"His being laid up has been very hard on him," she thought. "Even in his sleep he fidgets."

Heath gave a low snort and opened his eyes. When his sister's face came into view, he managed a soft grin. Reaching for the glass of water that sat on the small stand, she placed it in his hand and watched him take a sip.

"You need to try to relax a little," she advised. "You were all over that bed a minute ago. I can't imagine you're getting much rest with all that tossing you were doing."

"I just ain't much on bed rest," came the weak reply. "It's especially hard when I think of all that work that needs to be done back at the ranch."

"The work can wait, Heath," Audra smiled. "Right now the important thing is getting you back on your feet."

"I'd be on my feet by now if it weren't for you and your mother standin' guard over me twenty-four hours a day," the patient complained.

"I know it's hard," Audra empathized. "One time when I was a little girl I can remember having the measles. My mother made me stay in bed for two whole weeks."

"And I suppose she patrolled your room to make sure you didn't try and sneak out?"

"Well, I don't know that she watched me constantly, but she did keep a fairly close eye on my whereabouts. Sometimes she'd send Nick in to sit with me. He never really wanted to, but Mother made him. I remember the first time he came in," she reminisced with a smile. "He came in looking like Billy the Kid...mask and all."

"What was he tryin' to do?" Heath asked. "Scare you?"

"No," Audra laughed. "He was afraid that he was going to catch the measles. Then Mother explained to him that since he'd already had them, it wasn't likely that he'd get them again. It did give me a little bit of a start though," she continued. "To be resting comfortably in bed and then suddenly having the masked marauder hovering over me. Mother came in and told him to 'take that ridiculous thing off'. I think he felt pretty foolish afterwards."

"I'll have to remember that," Heath chuckled. "Nick, who ain't afraid of anything ...except a few red spots!"

"Now, don't you go teasing him," Audra chided, "or he'll know that I told!"

"Don't worry, Sis," Heath joked back. "I can keep the secret. Guess we don't want folks thinkin' that Nick Barkley's got yellow blood runnin' through his veins."

"Nick's definitely not yellow," Audra commented, "and I did appreciate all the time he spent reading to me during my stay in bed. I remember one story in particular. I would ask him to read it over and over again. He got so tired of it that he even tried to hide the book. But I knew that he had to have had the story memorized and begged him to just tell it."

"Did he?"

"Yes. He was reluctant, but I coaxed him into it and you know what?"

"What?"

"I found out that my big brother was a pretty good story teller. When he was reading it, it was just words. But when he told it from memory, his face got all animated and he used hand gestures and voice changes. It was so much fun!"

"What was the story about?"

"It was called Rapunzel and it was about a beautiful princess with long, long hair. The evil witch locked her in a tower. At night she would let down her hair over the edge and a handsome prince would come climbing up the golden strands. I remember sometimes after he would leave the room, I would sneak out of bed and go stand by the window. I would stick my head out and pretend that I was Rapunzel. Of course, no handsome prince ever came to my rescue."

"Just the warden, right?"

"If you mean Mother, yes, I guess she did. What games did you play when you were a boy, Heath?"

"I never really had much time for games and such, but when I did, I guess I liked to pretend I was Robin Hood."

"Robin Hood! Did you read that book as a boy?"

"Yeah, my Aunt Rachel had it. Every now and then my mama would borrow it and read it to me before bed. Whenever I got a chance, those woods surrounding our house in Strawberry turned into the Sherwood Forest. I'd find me a good long stick that I could use for a sword and off I'd go."

"Heath," Audra asked thoughtfully, "what did you mean about not having much time for games? I thought all young boys liked to play."

"Oh, I was not different from most in the sense that I would've liked to have played, but duty called."

"Duty?"

"You know...my chores after school and stuff like that. I can remember a couple of times, though, crawlin' down a mine shaft and pretendin' I was lookin' for buried treasure."

"Heath!" Audra exclaimed. "Didn't your mother ever teach you that it was dangerous to go crawling around deserted mine shafts?"

"Oh, this one wasn't deserted. It was fully operational. I worked there as a charge boy."

"A charge boy! Heath, you could've been blown up!"

"I reckon I thought of that a time or two as well. I lost a couple've good buddies in the tunnels, but my mama would get real sick sometimes, and we needed the money for food and medicine."

Audra paused for a moment, sadly envisioning a small boy too busy earning his way in the world to be able to enjoy the freedoms of youth. A young, towheaded boy who could do no more than take one day at a time and hope that a fateful accident didn't keep life's basic necessities from the woman he loved. Forced to grow up much too fast, she couldn't help thinking of how much he had missed as a child. If only they had known about Heath sooner. Perhaps he would have come to live with them. She was sure that her father must not have known about the situation. Certainly he wouldn't have stood by and allowed one of his own to be denied the basics for happiness. The two looked over as Victoria entered the room. Walking over and sitting next to Heath on the bed, she placed her hand on his brow to make a temperature check.

"You're still a little warm," she commented, reaching for an amber bottle which sat on the nightstand. "Here," she said, pouring a little into a spoon, "take this."

Heath obediently opened his mouth and quickly forced down the foul tasting liquid. Chasing it down with the rest of his water, he laid his head back down on the pillow.

"Thank you, Ma'am," he delivered. "Reckon maybe I'll go back to sleep now. That stuff knocks me out quicker than an ax handle."

Victoria stooped down to place a delicate kiss on the fevered forehead. On the outside she smiled at his politeness and humor as her eye caught his; but on the inside she was distressed. All these weeks had passed and still she was no more than 'Ma'am' to him. She stood and left the room as Heath closed his eyes and Audra went back to her book.

"Sheriff Gomez?" Nick asked.

"Yes, Can I help you?"

Nick closed the door and entering the lawman's office. Taking his hat off, he wiped his brow and approached the desk. The sheriff was a tall, lean man about thirty-five. He looked up and Nick sensed right away he meant business.

"I'm Nick Barkley. I'm told you may have some information on a felon named Elliott Carrington."

"Have a seat, Mr. Barkley. Coffee?"

"No thanks, and it's Nick."

"This Carrington fella, he was here, all right. Myself and two deputies were looking all over town for him. The stage coach clerk said a man matching his description asked about the stage to Carson City."

"Carson City! You kiddin' me?" Nick dismayed.

"No, I don't 'kid', Nick. He wasn't on it, so I sent some men out to look for him. I figure he'll try to catch up to that stage at one of the stops between here and Bridgeport. I can help you as far as the state line and wire the Marshall in Carson City."

"Yeah, I know about that 'state line' business," Nick muttered.

"Look, you've ridden most of the day, you've got to be tired. Why don't you get something to eat and get some sleep. You'll need it if you're going to catch him."

"Thanks, but he's already got a jump on me. I'll get some grub and get going. I can cover quite a bit of territory and camp out on the road."

"Suit yourself," the lawman said rising as Nick turned to go. "Good luck to you."

Nick ate heartily, realizing it may be awhile before he had the chance to do so again. He picked up some canned goods at the mercantile and wired Jarrod. Within an hour, he was once again on the hunt.

Elliott stood and stretched, walking once again to the window of the building. He had money hidden just outside Carson City where they'd struck last year. The abandoned mine that they used had been a perfect hideout, but they'd had to leave in a hurry when Jenkins spotted a posse in the distance. There were money, jewels and some other packable items that he'd need to get north. He hoped Nick would figure he was going south to Mexico.

His anger rose when he thought of how that bastard ruined it all for him. Too bad Sinclair botched the first hit. They'd all be on their way to Canada by now as rich men, and he'd be luring that prissy Barkley filly into a trip up the aisle.

"Stage comin'," the clerk announced.

There were only two elderly ladies and himself at the Bridgeport stop. He would feel a whole lot better when he was across the state line. The women gathered their bags and slowly made their way to the door. Elliott opened the stage for them and climbed in after. The bags were secured, the mail stowed and the stage rolled onward.

Nick waited at the pass, having ridden hard for several days, trying to stay ahead of the stage. He was both tired and hot...something which didn't help buffer his temper. He wanted to keep his promise to Jarrod, but his fingers were itching. After getting the hot tip, he'd made the decision to bring Elliott in, but he hadn't forgotten Sinclair. Justice would be served, one way or another...Nick's way. He saw the dust storm as the stage passed, making it's way to Sandy Point, the overnight stop. Nick followed behind, hoping to hit the jackpot.

It was almost dark when the stage pulled in to the small town of Sandy Point. The driver helped the elderly ladies down and ensured that their bags were taken into the small hotel. Nick watched from the shadows, his gloved fingers stroking his gun. His eyes were bleary, his limbs aching and the beard he wore from several days without a shave was itchy. He needed a hot bath, shave, good meal and soft bed. His heart was pounding as he entered the hotel. He registered and scanned the room list.

"Number ten, please."

"Yes, Sir," the clerk said, handing him the key.

His aching limbs seemed lighter as they approached room number nine. He knocked on the door, the anticipation nearly causing his hands to flex.

"Yeah?" came the familiar voice.

"You open this door, Elliott, or I'll blow a hole in you, right through it," Nick growled, his foot poised to kick the door in.

He heard the scurry and the window open. His foot found the wood and sent a shower of splinters into the room. His long legs wasted no time in getting to the window. His hands hauled the startled man backwards, sending him hard into the wall.

He threw himself at Nick and the two fought, once best friends, now bitter rivals. Knuckle met bone time and time again. The two weary fighters, bloodied and battered, finally went to their knees, each gripping the other's shirt.

"Why?" Nick gasped, wiping his bloody lip.

"I never started living until I found my real talent. You wouldn't understand, you with your wonderful father and terrific family. My father despised me from the day I was born. I hated him...flunked out of college just to spite him. I wanted him to suffer... to know how it felt," Elliott glared.

"Hated him? Why Elliott?"

Elliott threw off Nick's hand and fell back against the wall. Spitting a mouthful of blood on the ground, he reached up behind him and took a bottle of whiskey off the table. He pulled the cork out with his teeth and took a long swig. Wiping his mouth, he handed the bottle to Nick, who also took a long swig.

"He wasn't my 'real father' and never let me forget it. How 'lucky' I was to be in 'his' house and have 'his' name. He was a tyrant, an ogre, and I didn't blame her one bit for the few months of happiness she had with whoever it was that did father me," he sighed and took another long swig.

"I'm sorry, Elliott, for what you went through, but that's no excuse. You had choices, lots of them," Nick loathed, hauling the stuporous man to his feet. "And now you're going to pay for what you've done."

"Look, Nick, I got some money hid. I'll split it with you...," he tried.

Nick's backhand answered the insulting proposal and sent the loser to his knees.

"You make me sick," he spat and grabbed the torn shirt collar.

"For him you came all this way? That no good bastard ruined everything for me."

The sound that came from Nick was a combination of a growl and some unearthly noise. Elliott realized his mistake too late. The brown gloves were wrapped tightly around his throat. His green eyes tried frantically to plead with Nick's, but the tall Barkley's eyes were unseeing.

"For him I'd have ridden clear to the Atlantic Ocean to catch you. I'm damn proud to call him 'brother' and can only hope he'll forgive me."

Nick released the puppet and he collapsed onto the floor. Nick tied his hands and took him to the sheriff's office. They'd hold him until the end of the week when he'd be transported back to Stockton to stand trial for a long list of charges. He'd never see the light of day again.

Nick sent a wire to Fred and Jarrod. He took that long, hot bath and shaved. He had a quiet dinner, suddenly not very hungry. He thought of the Elliott had known growing up, a good friend, not the lost soul who reappeared...a pale imitation.

Pete Sinclair rode through the dark, hell-bent for the ranch that had been his place of employment for the past two and a half years. His greedy ambitions for success had backfired, and most of his friends were dead. As far as he knew, the gang's ringleader was still alive. He was sure that he had seen Elliott make his escape when the shooting started. Damn that Nick Barkley anyway! He was always there, right on schedule, ready to slide a stick into Sinclair's spokes. There was just no sidestepping the guy.

Sinclair's blood began to boil as he thought of how this former employer had foiled his attempt to kill Heath in the barn...made him look bad to Elliott and the rest of the boys. Elliott had really lambasted him for 'bumbling the hit', and when Nick showed up again...well, Sinclair knew that he didn't dare show his face back at the hideout. The gang's leader had little tolerance for incompetence and would more than likely welcome his presence with a Smith and Wesson. Sinclair seethed inside as he thought of all that loot scattered among the various hideouts. All that loot that should rightfully be his. Well, he wouldn't be going without...somebody was going to be making up the difference.

"I'll teach that high-n-mighty boss man to go pokin' his nose in other people's business," the bitter wrangler schemed. "With all them Barkleys followin' that bastard's path to Benton City, that'll leave the ranch an open target! I told Nick Barkley that he'd have reason to remember me. I'm gonna show 'im that I wasn't just bluffin'."

Sinclair's horse stumbled, causing the cowhand to come down hard in his saddle. Spewing a string of cuss words that would initiate any sailor into the navy, the wrathful man resituated himself in his seat as the horse regained it's footing. Reaching back and using the long reins to give the equine a hard slap on the rump, Sinclair was once again riding along at a steady canter. He'd ridden this range a hundred times in the dark and knew which route to take in order to avoid the night guards.

As the large Barkley mansion loomed in the distance, it's outline silhouetted by the full moon, everything seemed still in the unlit house. Reining his mount into a grove of trees behind the house, Sinclair continued his trek on foot. Using the long blade on his buck knife to jimmy open the door leading into the library, he slipped inside the unoccupied house.

It was after midnight when Nick rode Jingo into the barn. Several days away from home and it was good to be back. A lot had changed since we had departed over a week ago...especially from within himself. His outlook on things was much more positive and he felt as though he'd been through some sort of horrible war, but come out all the stronger and wiser for it. He pulled his saddle off Jingo and led him into the stall next to Coco. Good old Coco. Over a week off...Nick couldn't remember the last time he'd been away from his horse for so long. He'd be feeling as frisky as a colt when Nick saddled him up for ranch chores in the morning.

Nick arched his back and stretched. He'd spent an awful lot of time topside a horse lately...a hot bath would be heaven sent. Nick's spurs jingled in the dark as he trudged the distance from the barn to the house. There was a low light in Jarrod's office. He didn't recall Jarrod mentioning that he would be home this early...maybe this was a good sign. Apparently Heath was experiencing a speedy recovery and Jarrod no longer felt the need to stay on. Slipping in through the kitchen, an uneasiness suddenly fell over Nick. Something just didn't seem right. He could hear movement coming from the library. Why would Jarrod be making so much racket?

Stalking down the hallway, Nick paused with his gun drawn. The silhouetted shape of a man with a hat was bent down in front of the area where the family kept the ranch's payroll money. Quickly, Nick ran a mental check on the number of people who knew of the exact location of the safe and it's contents. Yes, Pete Sinclair was one of those people. He had been in the library a couple of times right before Nick was getting ready to hand out the monthly wages. The thief didn't give any indication of the knowlege of Nick's arrival. Reholstering his gun, Nick smiled. Using the element of surprise, he would catch Sinclair off-guard and finish up what he had started that day at the line shack. Stepping inside the library, he hovered and waited as the hunched bandit pilfered the money from the safe. Sinclair had just deposited the last stack of bills into his sack when he heard the sound of a throat being cleared. The bandit jumped and reached for his gun, but Nick's foot was quicker. Sending the gun skittering across the room, Nick hauled the surprised Sinclair up by his shirt collar and threw him against the wall.

"It would've been easier just to put a bullet between those beady eyes of yours," he seethed, "but then I wouldn't have the pleasure of watchin' you sweat on the witness stand. I hope they stretch your neck, but good. I'm gonna volunteer to help build the gallows to hang you from, Boy. Now move! We're goin' to go pay a little visit to the Stockton Sheriff."

"Like hell we are," Sinclair spat, lunging into Nick. "You'll have to kill me first."

"Whatever it takes," Nick volunteered as he stepped aside and allowed Sinclair's weight to plummet him to the floor.

"Get up!" Nick commanded as he drew his Colt and pulled back the hammer. "You ain't worth the effort it would take. Now, march...slow and easy like. Any sudden moves and I'll blow the biggest hole in you since Garberville."

Nick and Jarrod were alone in the parlor. Jarrod had returned from Benton City just before supper, carrying the news of Heath's recovery process. Jarrod watched Nick's face change expression several times as he looked through the open French doors, enjoying the rare breeze.

"Brandy, Nick?"

"No thanks, Jarrod. Oh, by the way, Sinclair made a mess in the study...papers all over the place. I did the best I could, but you might want to go over them, make sure they'll all in the right place. I left each folder and pile of documents on your desk."

"Thanks, Nick. I'm sure they're fine. I'm glad it's all behind us. I'm looking forward to a new dawn and a fresh start. I think we all have much to be thankful for."

"Amen to that, " Nick mused. "I think I'll take that brandy after all."

Jarrod poured Nick a glass and carried it across the room. The two stepped outside, watching the sunset. Jarrod wondered if Nick's pensive mood at dinner that he still held had something to do with Sinclair's arrest. He was about to inquire when he remembered the file that Chris Warren had given him on Heath and that it was still on the desk. Was that the cause of Nick's mood? He remembered how the words on those pages affected him when he had first read about his brother's hard life.

"Something troubling you, Nick?" he inquired.

"No, not really. Well, maybe." Nick drained the glass and reached for the decanter.

"About Heath?" Jarrod prodded.

"I, uh...," Nick said as he plunged the stopper down and straddled the small iron patio chair, "...happened to glance at some army papers about Heath."

"Yes, I thought that might be what was troubling you. I knew he had a hard childhood, and the army details were an unpleasant surprise. It hit me hard, too."

"I only read part of the one page that mentioned Carterson...and only by accident. Where did that stuff come from?" Nick demanded.

"When Heath first arrived, I asked Chris Warren to get some background."

"YOU SPIED ON HIM?" Nick wheeled angrily.

"No, of course not! I wanted to know more about him...so I could help him. Understanding where he came from, would only be a benefit in that process. Now that you've read it, surely you understand that," Jarrod defended.

"I didn't read any of it. I only read the first page and that was enough. You had no right prying into his business. I can't believe you would do that!" Nick's voice rose as his eyes blazed.

"Don't use that tone of voice with me, Nick. I did what I thought was right," Jarrod challenged.

"Right? You don't have that right...that's his. I didn't read any of that stuff...it would have been like stealing from him. If he wants to share that with me, he'll do it on his own time, when it's right, not before. When it comes from him, freely offered, it will mean a whole lot to me. I want it to come that way...that's what a brother does. He offers an open hand, he don't steal." Nick slammed the glass down and left Jarrod alone, pondering the gravity of his actions.

The thick draperies which hung at Heath's bedroom window blocked out a good portion of the midday sun and heat making it possible for the recovering patient to get the necessary rest prescribed by the doctor. Feeling more than a little penned in, Heath sat up from where he lay on top of the bed coverings and pulled his boots on. At least he was at the point where he didn't have Victoria and Audra hovering over him twenty-four hours a day, but Victoria still played the part of the martinet when it involved carrying out the doctor's instructions to the letter of the law. The house seemed unusually quiet this afternoon and there hadn't been any inquisitive heads poking inside his door for at least a couple of hours now.

Gingerly, Heath made his way across the floor and down the long hallway that led to the grand staircase. Gripping the rail for support, he slowly took each step, one at a time. He reached the stone floor in the entry way and stiffly hobbled over to the front door. A trip to the barn and corrals would do his soul good. His four-legged friends had weighed heavily on his mind for the past few days. Sure, he knew they were being well cared for, but it just wasn't the same as doing it himself.

As he approached the corral in front of the barn, Charger pranced over and stopped in front of the fence. Heath reached up and scratched the side of the face as it extended itself over the top rail of the fence.

"Just as soon as they let me, you and me have some work to do, Boy," Heath told the large bay as it nuzzled his hand. "We've got to get you finished off with your trainin'."

Giving the equine a final pat, Heath entered the spacious barn.

"Rico!" he exclaimed joyfully. "I didn't expect to find you here! Nick give you the day off?"

"Good to see you!" the Mexican boy greeted. "No, Senor Nick asked me to fill in here today. Ciego went to spend the day with is mother. She twisted her ankle and Senor Nick told him to take a couple of days and help her out."

"That Nick must be gettin' generous in his old age. You been exercisin' my horse for me?"

"Si, Senor Heath. I've been takin' Buster out just like you asked me to, but still, look what he does." The boy walked over to the enclosed paddock and opened the top half of the stall's split door. "Look over here, Senor Heath. He chews the wood from the inside."

"Cribbin'!" Heath blurted with a tone of disgust in his voice. "Buster, you're goin' have old Nick on the warpath for sure when he sees this. Guess I already have my first project cut out for me...build you a nice, sturdy corral and replace this door!"

"The horse is bored, Senor," Rico defended reaching a lean arm up around Buster's neck. "He's not used to being penned up for such a long time."

"You say you've been ridin' him a little, Rico?" Heath questioned.

"Si, Senor. I take him out to the corral or sometimes run him down to the end of the road and back."

"How does he behave for you?

"Good. Very good. When you were gone and I was laid up, I would come out to the barn and visit with him sometimes," Rico replied. "It was good for both of us," he added bashfully. "We both missed you, but at least we had each other."

"I tell you what, Rico," Heath pondered thoughtfully. "I'm gonna be havin' my hands full with Charger just as soon as I'm back to ridin' again. How about if you take over Buster for me?"

"You mean it, Senor?" His wide brown eyes and exuberance caused the blond cowboy to laugh.

"Yup, sure do. I know you been usin' the ranch horses, but a vaquero's got to have his own horse, and Buster, here...well, he needs to have his own rider. What do you say, Rico? Is it a deal?"

"Si, Senor!" the boy beamed. "And we will build him a pen? I don't want to cause any trouble with Senor Nick."

"You just leave 'Senor Nick' to me," Heath grinned. "By the way, speaking of Nick, what's he doin' today? Is he workin' cows or peaches?"

"I don't think he's doing either one, Senor Heath. He's been working up near the house all day."

"Doin' what?"

"I think he's doing something for Senora Barkley. When I was cleaning the stalls earlier today, he told me to put the manure in a cart and leave it up by the house."

"Hmm," Heath thought outloud. "I wonder what he could be doin'. Whatever it is, sounds like it's somethin' worth lookin' into," he smiled mischievously. "I'll catch you later, Rico," he concluded, clapping the boy of the shoulder.

Rico bit his lip as his friend turned to leave. Something had been on his mind these last weeks, while he recovered. If this ranch in this wonderful country was to be his home, he wanted to start clean. He trusted Heath and needed his advice.

"Senor, I have a favor," he tested, seeing Heath turn.

"Okay, I'm listenin'"

"It's about the trouble I had in Mexico. You know...about that doctor." He exhaled and tried to get the nerve to continue. "I...well, it's like this.."

Heath furrowed his brows and hobbled back to where the young man stood hemming and shifting his feet.

"What it is kid? Come on, spit it out." Heath offered with a hand to the slumped shoulders.

"I wish to make this country...this ranch, my home. I want to not watch my shoulders...no, I mean..."

"You don't want to have to be looking over your shoulders, is that what you meant?" Heath chuckled.

"Si! I have a little money saved, it's not much, but I can pay the rest back. I was wondering if you could have your brother...um...he is a lawyer, no?"

"Best around from what I hear," Heath nodded, squeezing the shoulder, knowing how hard it was for Rico to expose himself this way.

"Do you think...I mean, I know I'm just a hand, but maybe he would help me?"

If Rico wasn't so solemn and his face wasn't wearing a 'scared to death look' Heath would have laughed. Smiling, he patted the youth's back and reassured him.

"You save that money, Kid, you earned it. I'll talk to Jarrod tonight and set up a time for us to meet with him. I can't have my right-hand man frettin' his days away, can I?"

"Gracias, Senor, but I won't take charity. I can pay...I have some money." His angry voice matched the fire in his eyes..

'Hold on now, Rico, take it easy. You saved my life that night in the barn...seems to me I owe you. We'll call it even, okay?"

"Well, I guess that would be all right, Senor."

"Good. Now you get back to work. I'm gonna find that brother of mine."

Heath paused for a moment by Sally's stall before making his way back toward the house. This time, instead of using the front entrance, he walked around to side, in the direction of the library...and the rose garden. Sure enough. There was Nick on all fours, giving the dirt around one of the newly planted rose bushes a final pat.

"Boy howdy," Heath greeted, "I see it, but I sure don't believe it!"

"Well, it...it just needed to be done, that's all!" Nick exclaimed, rising to his feet, his knees caked with fresh manure. "What are you doin' up and about. Mother and Audra left for town a couple've hours ago. I'm supposed to be makin' sure you take it easy."

"And I'm takin' it easy," Heath lamented, "but believe me, it ain't easy."

"I know," Nick empathized. "I know exactly how Mother gets every time anyone around here is sick or shot up. That's just part of havin' a family, Boy. I tell you what, though. If you're really wantin' somethin' to do, how 'bout givin' me a hand with these roses."

"No, Nick, that's okay," Heath grinned impishly. "I sure wouldn't want to go gettin' your mother riled up at me. Somehow I get the feelin' that her wrath is nothin' to be trifled with," he chuckled, remembering the day that the feisty little woman had assigned her dark-haired, cowboy son to 'rose duty'.

"You ain't just a woofin' there, Heath. Over the years I've learned to only fear three things...drought, hoof 'n mouth disease, and Mother's wrath!"

"You know, Nick, could be you missed your true calling. You seem right at home in the manure," Heath jested.

"Very funny," Nick scowled, rising to his feet, "Your sense of humor is as bad as the scent of this manure."

"Well, I don't want to hold you up...guess I'll go in and get some lunch."

"Now, that's what I call a good idea. I'm starving...been tanglin' with these blasted, thorny monsters all day," Nick lamented.

"Fine by me, Big Brother, just be sure and sit downwind, okay?" Heath said, wrinkling his nose.

"Get movin'," Nick swatted playfully at the hobbling man, "or I'll put you in this manure heap."

Heath settled in at the kitchen table while Nick removed his soiled boots and washed up at the pump outside. Glancing at the ice box, he got up and opened the door. Spotting some leftover ham and potato salad, he removed the tasty gems and hobbled to the table. By the time Nick entered, he'd sliced some bread and cheese to go with it. He was panting and flushed with color as he reached for the pitcher of cold lemonade.

"Hold up there, Boy, you're gonna wear yourself out. Mother will skin my hide if you have a relapse on my shift. Get in that chair," Nick ordered, turning his winded brother.

Nick got two glasses, some utensils, plates and napkins. By the time the icy citrus drinks were poured, Heath had wolfed down half a sandwich.

"This sure is tasty. Silas is some kind of cook," Heath commented. "Reminds me of some of the stuff my mama and Hannah made when I was little."

Nick watched Heath's animated face as he began to speak quietly about his boyhood and the good times. As he savored the tangy potato salad, he watched his younger brother's eyes grow serious when he spoke of the bad times and having to get up before dawn to hurry to the mine for an early shift before school. Suddenly, Heath stopped talking as quickly as he started, not really comfortable sharing anymore for the time being. It still came hard to him, opening up, but knowing he had so many people who loved him, would make the path easier.

"I sure am itchin' to get back in the saddle. I can't wait for Doc Merar giving me the okay to work. I'm starting to feel the walls close in...like I'm in prison," Heath said, changing the subject as he finished his sandwich.

Nick's head shot up as the word 'prison' hit him like a brick. He couldn't stop the images of 'Caterson prison' from resurfacing. The idea of a fifteen year old boy in a place like that angered him. Knowing that hell hole was probably responsible for the scars he'd seen on Heath's back in the doctor's house. He scowled and clenched the knife in his hand, wishing the brutes who tortured his brother, were in the room so he could pay them back.

"Boy Howdy, I wouldn't want to be on the other end of that." Heath laughed seeing Nick's dark face.

"Huh?" Nick looked up and realized what Heath had seen, "Oh, sorry Heath, guess my mind's been on a lot of stuff lately."

The sound of a buggy approaching the house caused both heads to turn. Nick scurried to the window as Victoria and Audra drove by and pulled to the front of the house.

"Come on," Nick offered. "We'd better get back upstairs before they discover that you've been out 'n about or we'll both be gettin' it. You for leavin' the house and me for lettin' you."

Heath nodded in agreement and stood, but before he could reach the back stairway, Victoria was standing in the entrance of the kitchen, both hands on her small hips.

"There you are!" Victoria exclaimed from the doorway. "I was wondering where it was you had wandered off to."

"Yeah, I needed to stretch my legs a bit," Heath explained sheepishly. "What have you and Audra been up to?"

"Well, first we..." Victoria stopped mid-sentence and began to sniff the air around her. "What is that smell?" she asked, sniffing the 'fragrance' that permeated the room.

"Smell?" Nick asked innocently. "I don't smell anything. Do you, Heath?"

"Well, come to think of it," Heath began, "it does seem a bit 'ripe' in here."

"That's putting it lightly," Victoria put in, walking over to investigate. Following her nose, the aroma led her over to her second born. "Nick!" she exclaimed, looking at him from head to toe. "You stink...and look at your pants!"

Nick looked down at the caked on manure and felt the color begin to rise.

"Mother," he said, taking her by the arm, "I want to show you something!"

"All right, Nick," Victoria said, "you show me...but please...will you walk ten feet ahead?"

"Now, it ain't that bad!" Nick returned in mock exasperation. "I got them roses all planted, just like you asked."

"Oh, and they look simply lovely," Victoria complimented as she stood on the back porch gazing in the direction of her newly planted garden. "Thank you, Nick! Now, why don't you go get cleaned up. I've asked Silas to prepare an early dinner tonight. And you, Young Man," she said addressing Heath. "I think you could stand a little rest before supper."

"Yes, Ma'am," was the feeble reply.

Carefully and with Victoria as an escort, Heath made the long, painful journey back up the staircase to his bedroom.

Heath's late lunch had given him an early departure from the dinner table. He walked out into the summer twilight and embraced the unexpected breeze. He strode among the rows of roses which bloomed in every size and hue. The scent was alluring and he found himself seated upon a small bench, next to a pond. He was lost in thought and jumped a bit as the small hand touched his.

"Sorry, Heath," Victoria offered, taking a seat, "Where were you?"

"Lost in time, Ma'am...remembering how my mama used to love flowers. She had a real nice little garden. Nothin' as grand as this, but she sure was proud of it. She spent a lot of time out there, until..."

Victoria squeezed his hand and watched the smile turn to a frown. He remained like that and she'd learned in these last couple of months since his arrival, that he was often lost in thought, embracing solitude.

"What is it, Dear?" she tendered, brushing the tear that sneaked down his cheek.

"Sorry, I guess sometimes, she seems so near. Sitting here, in this beautiful place, I could swear I felt her," he paused.

"You'll always feel her, Heath, she'll always be in your heart." Victoria stroked the strong arm and noticed something else in those pensive eyes of his father's.

"She should have told me sooner, maybe...somehow, I could have gotten her the help she needed. She shouldn't have suffered so. I failed her..." He exhaled deeply and stared at the sky, fending off more tears.

"Don't, Heath, don't do that to yourself. She was a very brave woman...her courage shines through so much, in you. She made her choice when you were born and never wavered. It wouldn't have changed anything. You told me she was a woman of great faith. It was that faith in the Lord that gave her the strength to leave when the time was right. You were a man, strong and true, ready to make you way in the world."

"But...why didn't she tell me sooner?" he pained.

"That was her decision, and neither of us has the right to question that." Victoria took the troubled face in both hands and looked into those blue eyes, so full of emotion. "She raised a fine man, full of courage and unquestionable moral fiber. A young man who's gentle soul and generous spirit are so much a part of her... someone I'm proud to call 'Son'."

The word 'Son' hit Heath right in the heart. He looked into those strong gray eyes and absorbed the determined woman's words. Did she mean that the way it sounded? The last few weeks, while he recovered, she was always there at his side. Through fever and nausea, encouraging him to eat and drink, helping him with the first painful steps from the bed, scolding him when he overdid it. A mother...his mother...that is what it had felt like. Someone who'd love him unconditionally. He'd be proud to be this wonderful woman's son. As if she read his mind, she answered the emotional plea from his heart that beckoned her through his eyes.

"I'll never replace her, Heath, but I'd be proud to be your mother. Don't stay out here too long, Son."

She kissed his cheek and then stroked it lightly, and rose to leave. Just as she got to the edge of the path, she turned as the words carried on the breeze of the summer's eve and, scented by the lush roses, found her heart. Five words, choked out in the soft drawl that she'd come to hold dear. The tears glistened in her eyes as she turned and found his embrace.

"Goodnight...Mother. I...love you."