Will urged Thunder onward and raced to Stockton. By the time he arrived at Doc Merar's on the edge of town, his auburn hair was plastered to his head and his shirt was soaked through. He was still gulping air when he read the note posted on the door.

"Called to the Henson house. Be back by nine."

"Oh, no," Will groaned.

He slumped against the porch rail of the Doctor's house and peered into the dark window. Mrs. Merar was up at the rececption no doubt. Henson's place was on the way back to the ranch. If he took the shortcut it would save time and every minute counted. He'd lose twenty minutes or more backtracking to the hotel and getting back here. Heath didn't have that time to waste. He'd double back to the hotel afterwards.

Jumping on Thunder again, he headed for the pass cutting through to the main road.

Nick's bloodied hand was cramped as he peeled it away from his brother's back. The bleeding had finally stopped. He checked the clock on Heath's dresser again. The steady ticking seemed to be unnaturally loud tonight, keeping time with the pounding in Nick's head. Twenty minutes! It seemed more like twenty hours.

"Where the hell is that Doctor?" Nick worried aloud.

Heath was sweating profusely as the infection raced through his weakened system. His breath came in frantic pants, like a drowning man. Nick bent over the still form and whispered encouragement. He took the large pitcher and basin to the bathroom and filled it with water. Grabbing a handful of towels, he held them under his arm and made his way back.

He soaked the towels in the cool water and laid one carefully across Heath's back. Using great caution, he gently wiped Heath's face and neck, all the while talking to him. The cold water against Heath's burning flesh caused the younger man to moan and twitch. The restless movements turned to thrashes, Nick's calming voice turning sterner as he leaned down and gently stroked the wet, blond hair.

"I know. I know it's cold but you got a fever, I'm trying to cool you down some. Don't move, Heath! Try to stay still. You got a bullet in you back. I'm right here, you just rest."

Whether it was the cooling water or the reassurance of his brother being near, Heath stopped his rapid movement. Nick checked the clock again. Where were they? He wiped a hand through his dishelveled hair and rinsed out another cloth. He turned the lamp up, illuminating the darkened room. He swallowed hard at the sight of his younger brother, whose complexion was nearly as pale as the sheets he rested on. In two years this man had come to mean more to him than words could express. He made his way back to the chair and took the limp hand.

"Heath, you hang in there. I'll help you, little brother. I'll stay right here and fight with you."

"When I said to stay off that leg, I meant it Jeb."

Doc Merer finished re-wrapping the injured leg and gave Mary Henson some medicine. He was about to finish the pie and coffee she offered when the door flew open and Will Marvin fell in.

"Will! What's wrong?" He said, stooping to help the boy up.

"Heath," WIll gasped. "You gotta come, he's been shot. It's real bad. Nick's with him at the house. "

"Shot? How?"

"I dunno. Come on, we gotta hurry," Will was frantically pulling the doctor's arm.

"Okay son, take it easy. I'll get my bag. Mary, I'll stop by later in the week. See that he stays put"

"I'm gonna ride back and get the family. You go on to the ranch. He's upstairs in his bedroom. He's lost a lot of blood. The bullet's in his back."

Doctor Merer climbed into his buggy and urged his horse forward. If Will's words were correct, he'd didn't have a second to spare.

"NICK!"

Nick jumped and simultaneously hollered, "Thank God". He raced to the hallway and met the doctor at the top of the stairs. Doctor Merer took one look at Nick Barkley's face and knew Will's words rang true.

"How bad?" He inquired as he entered the room and pulled the sheet back.

"It caught him in the lower back. The bleeding stopped, but he lost quite a bit. His breathing ain't good, he...."

Nick stopped as the doctor pressed the stethescope to Heath's back and listened to his lungs and heart. His trained ear told him that they had no time to spare. He found the young man's pulse to be weak. He carefully examined the entry wound. The infection was progressing at a rapid rate. He turned back to Nick.

"Look, Son, I don't have any time to waste, so I'll get right to the point. Heath is in a bad way, and unless we get that bullet out, the infection will kill him. He's lost quite a bit of blood, but if you roll that sleeve up, we can take care of that."

"Don't let him die," Nick's voice was barely audible as he offered his arm. "You take whatever you need from me. He...He saved my life."

The doctor got the transfusion underway and rubbed Nick's shoulder.

"I'm going to boil some water to sterilize these instruments. I'll be right back. He's a strong young man, Nick, but a few prayers wouldn't hurt."

Nick's eyes traced the tube that had become Heath's lifeline. They were now joined as one. He closed his eyes and prayed. The awful rattling sound of Heath seemingly gulping for air was breaking his heart. Suddenly, the sound stopped. Nick's eyes flew open as his worst nightmare came true. Heath's back was no longer rising and falling. The terrifying sucking sound had ceased. He hollered for the Doctor as loud as he could. The transfusion line had him at a disadvantage, but he screamed at Heath as loud as he could.

"HEATH! HEATH! WAKE UP! DON'T YOU QUIT ON ME, DAMMIT! YOU START BREATHING! BREATHE, HEATH, BREATHE!"

He managed to maneuver himself and slap his pale brother as hard as he could on the face. He stood back, relieved when the patient took a long shuddering breath and the awful sucking sound resumed.

"Boy, don't you scare me like that!" he sighed, rubbing the scarlet imprint of his hand left on the pale cheek.

The doctor put the large steaming pot on the floor and walked to Heaths' side. He nodded at Nick

"Close call?"

"Too close! He stopped breathing."

The doctor swabbed the area around the wound with alchohol and lined up the instruments on a hot silver platter. When the transfusion was complete, he disconnected Nick and bandaged his arm. Nick immediately began hovering over the bed. The doctor sympathized, knowing the great bond between the two men, but he couldn't be distracted.

"Nick, why don't you go downstairs and wait for the family. I'll take care of him."

Nick bent over the prone body and rubbed Heath's shoulder. He leaned in close and spoke firmly.

"You listen up. I gotta go now. The doctor's gonna take that bullet outta your back. You fight; you keep breathin'. Don't make me scold you again."

Nick's voice was gentle as he bade what he hoped wouldn't be the last farewell.

"I'll be back later, okay. Don't you leave me."

As they neared the house and Jarrod slowed the buggy, they were both surprised and concerned at the presence of Doc Merar's rig hitched out front.

"That's Doc Merar's buggy. Oh My God, Jarrod!" Victoria cried, "Nick! Nick!"

She jumped down without waiting for her oldest child and threw the front door open. Jarrod got Audra down and they raced in behind her. He could see his mother's shoulders quaking as she stood frozen in the entryway.

"Mother, what is it? What's wr...."

Jarrod's words were silenced by the pool of blood on the floor.

"NICK! NICK!," Victoria screamed as she raced toward the stairs.

"Mother, wait," Jarrod grabbed her arm and pointed to the parlor.

"Nick! Oh, thank God!" she swiftly found her middle son's arm.

Nick never moved. His eyes were firmly glued to the marble mantle, his white knuckles cinched around a partially empty bottle of comfort.

"Oh...My...God..." she said very slowly seeing the blood on his shirt, hands and face.

"Nick, what happened?" Jarrod asked, moving behind his mother and taking in the macabre sight.

Nick never blinked or gave any indication he was aware of their presence. Jarrod's trained eye took in the haunted look on his brother's face and the dead eyes. The whiskey bottle Nick held on the mantle was nearly empty. His heart sank as he added together the clues before him. There could be only one answer to Nick's tortured stance.

"Heath?" the lawyer offered with a hand to Nick's shoulder.

Nick finally turned, one eye blackened from the prior night's fight, the other red-rimmed and lost. He was fighting back tears as his mouth worked but no words would come. He shook off Jarrod's hand and staggered across the room. Victoria caught up to him by the foyer.

"What happened to Heath? Is the doctor with him? NICK, ANSWER ME!"

With eyes a strange mixture of pain, compassion and torment, he glanced to the room above, where his brother was fighting for life.

"It's in his back. Doc's trying to save him," he pained, taking a long swig of courage.

"Who shot him? Nick, what happened?" Jarrod demanded

Wiping the dribbling liquor from his mouth, Nick pulled away from Jarrod's grasp and turned, his raw eyes burning a hole right through Jarrod's heart. He watched as Nick pointed the neck of the whiskey bottle in the direction of Heath's door.

"The bullet he took," Nick swallowed hard, "had my name on it, Jarrod"

The very hollowness of Nick's voice matched the emptiness in his brother's eyes. Jarrod watched as Nick turned and walked towards the open French doors. Victoria started to follow, but Jarrod stopped her.

"I'll talk to him. You go up and see how Heath's doing."

"Thank God, you're here! I couldn't find you at the hotel after I got the doctor. How's Heath?"

Jarrod and Victoria turned at the sound of Will's voice. Audra walked over and took his arm.

"Will, do you know anything about this? How did Heath get shot?" Audra inquired.

"I got here right after it happened. I thought at first that maybe Nick had...but it wasn't him. I don't know who shot him. I saw somebody riding away, but it was too far away to see clear."

Victoria nodded and went up the stairs to Heath's room. Audra and Will took a seat on the parlor. Jarrod walked outside and found Nick and his buddy, Jack Daniels, standing by the edge of the trellis.

"How bad is it Nick?"

"I've seen worse, and they've been dead," Nick said without turning.

"What happened, Nick?"

"I'm not sure, Jarrod. It all happened so fast."

Nick sat down on a stone bench and ran a weary hand across his forehead. He left the stained fingers rest over his eyes as he continued.

"I came through the front door and heard him hollering at someone. Then I heard Jessica scream. It looked like he got rough with her. His shirt was all torn up and she raked his neck good. I thought...well, I lost my temper," he shamed.

"Then what?" Jarrod asked, taking a seat next to his tormented sibling.

"We fought, or rather, I jumped him. I saw her running away. I thought she was scared, so I ran after her. The next thing I knew, Heath hollered. There was a shot and he slammed me."

"She's not who you think, Nick. I went to see Frank Wells today," Jarrod said as Nick sat up straight and looked quizzically at his brother.

"Nick, she has a record three inches thick dating back over five years. She a thief, con-artist and more than likely, a cold blooded killer. She is suspected of killing two men. You're lucky, Nick. You were next on her hit list. She sets her sights on wealthy, attractive men and then uses every femine wile she can to lure them into her trap. Once she's done with them, she moves on. From the notes Frank has from the San Francisco Police Department, it's suspected that the two men who died found out who she was and what she was up too. They suspect that she killed them, but she always had an alibi. I'm sorry Nick, I really am," Jarrod ended sympathetically.

Nick sat for several minutes, his face was a mask. Jarrod couldn't tell what was working in his mind. Finally, a sarcastic answer was heard.

"Wealthy, attractive FOOLS you mean. She knew what she was doin'. She didn't pick you; you're too smart. You would have seen right through her. No, she picked gullible Nick; an easy mark. Bait the hook and reel 'em in," Nick as he paced the perimeter of the porch and back.

"Dammit, Jarrod, am I that transparent?"

"Nick, she's done this to dozens of men, and they were not only wealthy, but intelligent, dominent forces in business. She's good, Nick. You're not to blame."

Nick slowly walked up to Jarrod and stopped as the lawyer rose to meet him. He followed Nick's gaze through the doors towards the staircase.

"He never hesitated, Jarrod. After the pounding and name-calling I put him through these last two days...Why?"

"Nick, I think you know the answer to that. If you don't, then you're not his brother," Jarrod answered, his blue eyes trying to reach Nick's guilt-ridden ones.

"He didn't see a combatant, an enemy or even a hot-tempered romeo. He saw one thing only. Someone he cared for very much was in peril. You'd have done the same for him, Nick," Jarrod ended, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder as they walked back into the parlor.

"I guess so, Jarrod , but it don't make me feel any better. What if he don't pull through? The last memory is me beating him, not to mention two days of hell. How am I going to live with that, Jarrod?" Nick's soulful eyes pleaded.

"That was a two-way street. Both of you were at fault. Nick, the last two days couldn't erase almost two years of what preceded. I think Heath's actions tonight should tell you just how strongly he feels about you and erase any doubt and guilt you have."

Nick nodded slightly and welcomed Jarrod's strong arm that led him to the settee. He was about to sit when Audra jumped up.

"How is he, Doctor?"

They surrounded the weary man and watched, horrified at the bloody sheets Victoria placed by the doorway.

"He's alive. The bullet wasn't deep, but it was close to the spine. His breathing is still labored and he's critical. He's lasted through the surgery. I've done all I can. The rest is up to him and God."

"There is something you haven't told us," Jarrod asked, his discerning mind noticing the guarded look on the physician's face. He watched as the doctor exhaled and looked at the brothers.

"The bullet was lodged near an area where there are many nerve endings. There is a lot of swelling and it very well may be temporary."

"But what?" Nick demanded, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"There is a possibility that Heath may be paralyzed."

Audra's sobs were the only sound in the stunned room. Jarrod caught Nick who'd rocked back on his heels. He led his numbed brother to a chair where Nick dropped, head between his knees and covered with his hands.

"My God, what have I done?" He anguished as he slumped.

It was a long night. Victoria sat Heath and thought of just how much she'd grown to love Tom's son. She frowned, thinking of the things she'd never told him. She ran her fingers through the damp, blond hair and spoke. She told him how she knew by the twinkle in those sky-blue eyes when he was up to something. Tom's eyes had that same mischievous, little-boy-dare look. How his slow, methodical way of thinking was so very much like his father. How over the last two years she had come to admire what a brave young man he was and how much it meant to her that he had chosen to share the painful and pleasant childhood memories along with the horrible internal scars from the war. She looked up as Jarrod entered. It was nearly two a.m. and she was exhausted. The doctor recommended shifts; they'd all need their strength over the next critical hours. She rose to go to bed and leaned down, kissing the waxen face.

"I love you, Sweetheart."

She paused long enough to accept the strong embrace of her eldest son. It never ceased to amaze her that Jarrod always found the strength to pull the family together during a crisis.

Jarrod kissed his mother and hugged her reassuringly. He took the bedside seat, glancing at the doctor sleeping on a cot nearby.

"Hello, brother Heath. I couldn't sleep. I didn't think you'd mind if I kept you company."

Jarrod took the cool cloth and wiped the perspiration from his youngest brother's face. He talked of many things. Like his mother, he needed to tell this man just how much he meant to him.

It was nearly dawn when Nick shook the doctor awake. He jumped up startled, but Nick merely shook his head, indicating Heath's condition was unchanged.

"He's the same. Why don't you go down and get something to eat?"

The doctor took several minutes to check on his patient. Satisfied that Heath was stable, he left. Nick walked over to the chair where Jarrod was sleeping and tapped him on the leg. He watched as the lawyer roused and his blue eyes searched Nick for an update.

"I'm okay. I sent the doctor to get a bite. Why don't you eat too, or maybe get some shut-eye."

Jarrod stretched and stood up.

"You sure?"

Nick nodded and took the empty chair, picking up the limp hand.

"Yeah, me and the boy got some talkin' to do."

Jarrod read between the lines. Despite the large amount of liquor he had consumed, Nick was somber and sober. He needed to bare his shattered soul to Heath. He rested one hand on Nick's knee and leaned over Heath.

"I understand, Nick. Heath, take it easy brother, I'll see you a little later."

Nick waited several minutes after the doors closed. The indigo and pink rays of the new day peeped through the window. He looked at the beautiful sky which seemed to be painted. He fell to his knees and squeezing the limp hand, his eyes glanced heavenward for a moment, and then he bowed his head.

"I know I'm not the most devout church-goer, and I ain't got a right to...but it's like this," he started and then rubbed his hand over his face. God, this was hard.

"You see, him and me are real close. I don't know how I'd go on if...if you took him away now. I mean, you sent him here to find us and gave him the family he needed. You can't take him back yet. It's not right. I...we need him too much. All the rotten stuff he lived through as a kid and at that stinkin' prison. All the poverty and ...well he's just so special. So I'm askin' You...please help him find his way home. You did it two years ago, you can do it again. He's Heath Barkley, he's my brother and they don't come any better."

Heath was lying on his side, propped up by pillows. Nick leaned in close to Heath's ear and tapped his cheek lightly. The raspy breathing was the only response.

"I hope you can hear this, Heath. I'm so sorry for what happened. I hope you can forgive me. I want you to know how much I...well you know, how..."

Heath was in a dark void. An awful cold place. He never felt so alone and lost. There seemed to be no end to the vast cavity. He was afraid. He was dead, he thought, but this wasn't heaven. He heard words, mumbles, and pushed on. The words got clearer, he heart rose at the sound of Nick's voice. He heard the prayer and the love behind it. He heard Nick thank him for saving his life. Then he heard the awful sobbing.

"Please don't die, Heath. Please..."

Caught in a deep fog in which he drifted, Heath fought hard to answer the pleas of his brother. He could hear each phrase spoken clearly, but yet Nick seemed so far away. Trying so desperately to respond, the words formed in his heart, but could not seem to find their way to his lips.

"Don't, Nick. Don't cry. Please. Forgive you? Ain't nothing to forgive you for. Thankin' me? You got no cause for that. You're everything I...you're the best..."

Why, oh why couldn't he make his lips move. His mouth felt dry, as if it were filled with cotton.

Nick's grief could no longer be held in check. All the pain came forth in an unconsoleable burst. He rested his head near Heath's chest and poured his heart out. The tears were deep and bitter. He stopped as he felt the hand on the back of his neck, the fingers in his hair.

"Heath?" he hoped, raising his head and taking the hand.

There was a loud shudder and then the breathing became even and steady. Nick's free hand felt his brother's neck and found a stronger pulse. The smile that broke on the weary face was as brilliant as the sun that kissed it through the window. Nick closed his eyes in thanks as God's hand retreated.

"Heath, you're gonna be okay, kid. You're gonna be just fine," the voiced boomed.

He saw the pale lips move and bent closer. He smiled at the words, knowing they meant that his words had found his stricken brother.

"..s'okay. Me too, Nick."

Down in the dining room, Silas was beginning preparations to serve breakfast. He had arrived back at the house quite late the previous evening, expecting to find the lights turned low and the family in bed. Entering in through the kitchen, Victoria had been there to greet him as she tarried momentarily to make some tea. After his briefing on the evening's events, Silas had slipped into his small bedroom off the kitchen to meditate and make intercession to his God.

It was now Monday morning, and a house that was usually bustling with the activity of a brand new week, seemed forlorn and desolate. Whisking back and forth from the kitchen to the dining room, the long-time family servant turned and filled each cup with steaming, hot coffee as the chairs around the table began to be occupied. Silas knew it had been an extremely long night for each member of the family, and the usual homey atmosphere was sure to be somewhat strained. Victoria was the first to take a seat, followed by Jarrod and Doc Merar.

"Good morning, Mother," Victoria's oldest son bade her, routinely kissing her soft cheek even though they had shared company throughout the night.

"Good morning, Jarrod. Good morning, Howard."

"Good morning, Victoria," the doctor replied. "Mmm! Are those Silas' biscuits I smell."

"Sure are," answered Jarrod as he seated himself and passed the heaping basket to the stubble-faced doctor.

"I thought I heard Nick up and about in his room earlier," Victoria observed. "Is he sitting with Heath?"

"Yes," Jarrod responded. "I believe he wanted to spend a little time alone with him. Despite all the drinking, I don't think he slept much last night, but he seemed quite sober this morning. I'll go out to the bunkhouse after breakfast and tell Jake to go ahead and get the men assigned for the day. I'm sure Nick will be wanting to spend as much time as possible with Heath."

"That, and nursing a bad headache," Victoria agreed.

"There's one thing that puzzles me," Jarrod pondered, "and I guess we'll have to wait until Heath can tell us to know for sure....but under what circumstances do you suppose Miss Cassidy happened to be here in our home?"

"You know, Jarrod. I asked myself that same question but haven't really had the opportunity to give it much thought. With Heath and everything else going on....," Victoria's voice trailed off. "Maybe Nick could offer some sort of clue."

"I'm not sure that he knows, either. At least he didn't make any mention of it last evening, and like you say...we've all had other concerns in the meantime."

"Jarrod," Victoria mulled methodically, "don't you find the whole thing rather peculiar? I mean, Nick was supposed to be picking Jessica up at the hotel, and instead she shows up here at the house. Don't you find that odd?"

"If you ask me, Mother, this entire scenario is odd. So odd that it has the authorities in San Francisco totally baffled. From what I can tell, this Miss Cassidy is a polished professional. She does her job, and she does it well. But why she would take such a risk of coming here to the house is beyond me. I figured her to be much smarter than that."

"But if she knew that the house was going to be vacant....," Victoria offered.

"That's just it," Jarrod jumped in. "She knew the house was going to be vacant, but she also had a date for Nick to pick her up at the hotel. Now why do you suppose she'd want to make that gamble? If she wasn't there when Nick arrived, he would certainly be wanting an explanation."

"Is the coffee hot?"

All heads turned as Nick entered the dining room.

"See for yourself, brother Nick," Jarrod ventured, studying his brother's face.

"How's Heath, Sweetheart," Victoria interjected.

"I think he's going to pull through this just fine," Nick diagnosed, reaching for the biscuits and butter. "He actually spoke a few words to me. He's asleep now. I figured I'd come grab some chow and then maybe one of you could go sit with him."

"I'll go," Doc Merar offered, pushing his chair back from the table. "Thank you for breakfast, Victoria."

"You're more than welcome, Howard," Victoria acknowledged. "I'll be up in a few minutes as well."

"Do you have plans for today, Nick?" Jarrod asked.

Even though Nick's words were encouraging, the dark, dangerous expression that he wore gave the lawyer reason for concern.

"You might say that," Nick gruffed.

"I'm sure we're all quite curious as to what you've got going, Nicholas," Jarrod prodded, "Would you mind filling us in?"

"I'm going into town and I'm going to find Jessica. After that, I don't know. We'll just wait and see what happens."

"Nick, surely you're not thinking of taking the law into your own hands. Fred made it perfectly clear when he stopped by last night that he would handle things. The last thing he needs is you roaming the countryside playing vigilante."

"And just what do you expect me to do, Jarrod? Just sit around playin' tiddly winks until Fred gets tired of followin' some wild goose chase? That boy up there is a Barkley, and he's goin' to get the same treatment that either one of us would get if we were in his shoes," Nick thundered, now rising and pacing the room.

"Nobody's saying anything different, Nick," Jarrod reasoned, keeping his voice low.

"Then perhaps you have short-term memory, Jarrod," Nick quipped. "Just in case last year is too far back for you to remember, let me help you out a bit. You were the one upstairs lyin' in that bed of yours, while the Dunagan Brothers waltzed back to Nevada with ten-thousand dollars of Barkley gold. It was Heath who helped me track those boys down and bring 'em back here to Stockton to face murder charges!"

"That's right, Nick, "Jarrod agreed, "And you were correct in bringing them back for trial instead of issuing punishment yourselves. You're also lucky you both made it back alive. Nick, you've been under a great deal of pressure the last few hours and I don't believe for one minute that you're thinking rationally. The whole point is justice, not vengeance, Nick. Now, please, won't you just agree to let the sheriff handle this?"

"I'm sorry, Jarrod, but I can't agree to that. It's easy for you to sit there and tell me vengeance isn't the answer, but I'm the one that has a score to settle. And it's not just for me, Jarrod," Nick said, turning to stare his brother straight in the eye. "It's for him, my brother, and not you, or Fred or anybody else is going to stop me!"

"All right, Nick," Jarrod agreed, the corners of his mouth turned up, indicating a truce, "then how about if I go with you?"

"Well, I guess I can't turn down an offer like that now, can I? But I wanna get goin' as soon as we can get packed and saddled. As it is, I'm sure Miss Jessica Cassidy is wise to us."

"Since it's settled, then I guess I'd best be getting myself ready," Jarrod stated, taking the last swig of coffee. "But first I want to stop by Fred's and tell him what we're planning. Maybe we can work together on this. Oh, good morning, Honey," he added, noticing Audra's robed form standing in the doorway. "What do you have there?"

"Look for yourself, Jarrod," his sister replied, tears welled in her eyes as she clung tightly to the mother-of-pearl broach in one hand, and a small cloth sack in the other.

"I found this in my room this morning," she continued, handing the bag to Jarrod. "It's Mother's and my jewelry. I was so tired last night, I just dropped into bed without even lighting the lamp. When I woke up this morning, the bag was lying on the floor along with the broach. She must have dropped it there."

"So that's what she was doing here," Jarrod concluded. "I must say I had my suspicions, but this definately confirms it. Come on, Nick. Time's a'wasting!"

"Fred?" Nick called, as he and Jarrod commenced through the door of Stockton's jailhouse.

"Oh, Caleb!" he corrected himself, finding Sheriff Madden's senior deputy occupying the space behind the desk. "Did Fred leave you in charge for the day?"

"That he did, Nick. What can I do for you? Mornin', Jarrod."

"We really need to talk with Fred," Jarrod interjected. "Did he say when he'd be back?"

"Not likely that he'll be back any time soon," the aged deputy replied. "He's out chasin' after that there hold up gal. You know, that flaxen-haired filly you was courtin', Nick."

"Was, is right. I ain't courtin' her no more. Now, can you tell us what direction he headed?"

"I believe he and Billy said they'd be headin' south of town. That's the direction the livery boy thought she'd high tailed off to yesterday."

"Does he have any solid leads on her, Caleb?" Jarrod wanted to know.

"None that I know of," the elderly man answered, scratching his head. "He just muttered somethin' about searchin' for a needle in a haystack and headed out."

"All right. Well, we appreciate your help, Caleb. If Fred comes back, you might tell him we stopped by."

"Will do," Caleb assured, as the two brothers exited the brick building.

"You know, Nick, I've been thinking," Jarrod pondered as they stood for a moment out in the street. "Maybe I should take a quick trip up to San Francisco to pay another visit to my friend Frank Wells at the Pinkerton agency. Now that we have some solid proof that she was involved in a crime, the authorites over there may be able to take some action. There's also the possiblity that she has already returned to her home town. If not, maybe we could get some Pinkerton men on her before the trail gets too terribly cold."

"Okay, Jarrod," Nick gruffed. "You go do what you have to do and I'll go do what I have to do. I'll ride south and try to hook up with Fred and Billy. She was on horseback when she left. She may have headed in an entirely different direction altogether."

"All right, Nick," Jarrod agreed, "but promise me you'll be careful."

"What I'll promise you is that when I return, Jessica will be my prisoner. I aim to get her, Jarrod, one way or the other, and I won't rest until I've accomplished just that. She's gonna pay. Pay for hurtin' Heath and all the hell she put the rest of us through."

Jarrod sighed, knowing that any more admonishments of caution to this hard headed brother would be like beating his head against a wall.

"Good enough!" he exclaimed. "You bring her back, Nick. But please. If you spend the night somewhere, be sure to send a wire of your whereabouts. It will be a load off Mother's mind knowing you're safe and it may be helpful in my proceedings."

Nick agreed and the two brothers went their separate ways. Each headed in opposite directions, but with one common mission...that justice would be served and the days of the mendacious Jessica Cassidy ended.

It was late Monday afternoon when the Doctor returned. Victoria had just finished giving Heath an alchohol bath when she heard him enter the room.

"Looks like he's running quite a fever."

"Hello, Howard. Yes, he slept all morning and Audra noticed how warm he seemed earlier this afternoon. The last hour it really shot up. I've been rubbing him down with alchohol, it seems to be helping."

"Well, there is always this risk with an infection," the doctor said as he frowned slightly, his hand on the flushed man's face. "Hmm. Has he come to at all?"

"Not really. He's been muttering and not making much sense. Talking about work. What else can we do?"

"Just try to get fluids into him. I have some herbs here you can make a tea with."

Victoria's hand was unconsciously running through the damp blond hair of her son as she spoke with the doctor. Somewhere deep in the black ocean of torment and confusion, Heath felt that gentle touch. He knew his mother was close by. His eyelids seemed like heavy sand bags and he fought to open them. He didn't recognize this place. Where was his mother?

"Mama?"

Victoria turned and sat on the edge of the bed, smiling down at the blue movement beneath the heavy lids. She continued to stroke his hair and she spoke in a low, subdued voice.

"I'm right here,son. You've been ill, you need to rest."

"Thirsty....so hot...where are we...?"

Howard mixed some sugar into a glass of water and supported Heath's head as Victoria encouraged him to drink. He gagged slightly and for a moment she thought it was going to come back up, but he held it down. She then gave him some cool, clear water. She rose to replace the glass and felt the weak grip on her wrist.

"Don't go..."

"I not leaving you, Honey. I'm just getting you some more water," she soothed, kissing the hot forehead.

She heard his release of breath and the tension in his grip was gone. He seemed to be calm, not thrashing as he had before.

"I think I'll have Silas put coffee on. It looks like it's going to be a long night, Howard."

Jarrod arrived at Frank Well's office just past two p.m. He spent the next couple of hours filling the detective in and going over the notes left by the District Attorney. He realized when the clock was approaching five, that he'd be staying over.

"Frank, I'm going to send a wire home. I'll be right back."

"I'll tell you what, Jarrod. We need a break anyway. I'll walk over with you and we can grab a bite at Pistol Pete's. How about a little spicy Mexican?"

"The hotter the better," Jarrod exclaimed, slappiing his friend on the back

"I meant food, counsler," Frank teased.

Nick followed the road south of town in search of the posse. He came to a fork in the trail and rode off the main path. He slowed Coco's pace down a bit, and then pulled the horse up. He jumped down and fingered the remnants of wheel runners in the dirt. They weren't that old. He tethered Coco to a tree branch and followed the tracks through a heavily wooded glen. After a five minute walk, he was about to turn back when he spotted a chimney poking out of the tree tops. He drew his pistol and eased into the side of the property. There was no sign of man nor beast. He peered in the door and saw an almost barren room. A broken chair, a table and some fruit scattered on the floor. He was about to leave when he caught sight of an object that had become as familiar as the back of his hand.

He squatted and picked up the blue chambray shirt that had become Heath's trademark. His brother's pants and boots were thrown in the corner as well. This must be where the rest of the gang hid out. He walked around the small cabin and saw the pink shawl Jessica wore to the picnic. He picked it up and leaned against the table. This one really hurt. He had really felt something for her. The pain was quickly replaced by anger as he weighed the faded blue shirt against the silky shawl. He flung the shawl across the room.

"Lady, you're gonna regret the day you took on Nick Barkley," he growled, his spurs echoing his resolve as he stormed outside.

He stopped by the well out front to get a drink. His face screwed up as a thought occured to him. There were no tracks leading back to where he came from. They must have used a back road. Wiping his mouth against the brown sleeve, he walked around the back of the cabin. He continued to walk and found a road obscured by the brush. There they were; fresh tracks, very fresh. With a new confidence, he picked up the pace and found Coco in no time. Leading the horse to the new path, he rode in search of justice.

"Mother, please go to bed. I'll sit with him. It's almost midnight, you're exhausted. His fever's no worse, he's been sleeping for hours now. Come on."

Victoria sighed and reluctantly agreed. She was tired and if he got worse tomorrow, she would need all her strength. She hoped both Jarrod and Nick would return. Jessica Cassidy's history added to the cold-hearted attempt on her son's life spelled trouble until she was behind bars. She kissed the scarlet cheek.

"Goodnight, Heath. I love you. Audra is right at your side."

The room was quiet and Audra kept a silent vigil, hoping that the new day would bring Heath back to them. She couldn't imagine this family without him and needed to tell him that. The only sound in the room was the steady tick of the clock.

The bustle of San Francisco just added to it's pull on Jarrod. He finished a late lunch and read the wire again. Heath was stable, but still unresponsive. He wished he had better news. He and Frank had tracked down two unsuccessful leads that morning. They were catching the late afternoon train to Stockton. Frank wanted to interview Heath. And what about Nick? The last line of the cable had read "no news from Nick". Jarrod hoped wherever his brother was, he was safe and having better luck.

"Ready to go, Jarrod?"

"Right behind you, Frank."

Jarrod left a generous tip on the table and followed the detective down the street.

They were waiting for the 4:40 to pull in, when Jarrod spotted the familiar face in the crowd.

"FRANK! My God, it's her!" he pointed.

The two eased around the perimeter of the crowded station and kept an eye on her. She was with Adam Bennett. Wells subdued Bennett and handcuffed him. Jarrod saw the cold predator in line for tickets. She was purchasing tickets to San Diego... probably intended to go south to Mexico from there. Jessica took the tickets from the clerk and turned. The green eyes widened in shock, and for once, her calm exterior cracked.

"Not so fast, Miss Cassidy. You're going to Stockton. You're wanted for attempted murder and robbery."

Jarrod 's hard tone matched the coldness in his eyes as he gripped the slim wrists firmly.

Frank kept the two closely guarded while Jarrod wired home.

"Mother, he caught her! They're bringing her in on the train! Look!"

Audra handed Victoria the wire from Jarrod. Silas had prepared a dinner tray for her to eat while sitting with Heath. Somehow, as relieved as she was that the villianess would be in prison in town, the prison Heath was in was the one she was worried about. What if the paralysis was permanent? How would he survive that? He'd battled back from so much already. Audra's exasperation drew her back.

"Mother! Did you hear me?"

"Yes, dear, that's good news. I hope Jarrod won't be too late. I imagine they'll be questioning her and talking to the District Attorney as well. I hope Heath is strong enough to give them a statement. "

"He's so restless, Silas managed to calm him down. He's quieted finally."

Audra picked up the tray and followed her mother up the back stairs to her stricken son's room. He was sleeping quietly and Silas was steadily talking to him, in a low and comforting voice.

"You gonna be just fine, Mister Heath. I'm making some corn fritters for you. You be out there givin' Mister Nick fits in no time."

He stood and patted the boy on the shoulder as he prepared to leave. His dark eyes were lined with worry. His shook his head as he left.

Audra put the tray down, and with a kiss to her mother's face, she left the two alone. For a long while she watched his chest rise and fall, grateful for the steady rate. He'd come to mean so very much to her in so short a time. The dinner went uneaten and as darkness fell, she rose and looked into the star-filled sky."

"Mother?"

She smiled at the clarity and lucidness in the blue eyes. Her hand told her the fever was coming down. She sat on the bed and wiped his sweaty face. Her steady hand held his head as he drank the tea the doctor left and followed it with some water.

"Thank you."

"It's good to see you again. I've been worried. How do you feel?"

He eased back onto the pillows and looked around the room. His brow furrowed and he shook his head.

"Guess Nick was right about that roan. Should've passed on breaking that one. Funny, I don't remember hitting the fence that hard."

Her confused stare caught him off guard. Her hands trembled slightly as she fluffed the pillow and adjusted his sheet. His hand snagged hers.

"What's wrong? That is why I'm laid up, isn't it?"

She sat down and her grey eyes searched those expressive blue ones. She took his hand and sighed.

"No, Honey, that was over a week ago. You weren't hurt then. Heath, what's the last thing you remember?"

He felt a butterfly ramming his stomach inside as his eyes darted left to right. Remember? Remember?

"I'm sorry Mother, that is the last thing I remember. What happened to me?" his eyes pleaded.

"You were wounded a couple of days ago. You've had a fever, but the doctor says you'll be good as new in no time. Now, how about I have Silas bring up some broth for you. He made it this afternoon in case you woke up."

"How'd I get hurt?" he demanded.

"You ran into an intruder downstairs and were shot. The most important thing for you to do now is to get your strength back. You've lost a lot of blood and you're weak. I'll get that broth."

Intruder? In the house? He thought and thought but came up blank. His head hurt and he felt dizzy. Something was missing, something important. He needed to tell them. Why couldn't he remember? His heart started pounding and the room got black. Danger, Trouble, he had to warn Nick. Nick? Where was Nick?

Victoria saw the blank stare and her initial cries went unanswered. The sweat was pouring off him, but not from the fever. He was back in time, searching.

"Heath, Heath are you okay?" She shook his leg.

"Mother, Nick's in trouble, I think, but I don't know. I need to warn him. I..., " He stopped and stared transfixed at her small hand squeezing his leg. He couldn't feel the pressure. He reached under the cover and pinched his thigh as hard as he could. Nothing.

His terrified gaze told her what words couldn't. She tried to take his hand but he pulled back.

"Why didn't you tell me I'm paralyzed?" His pained eyes burned through her soul.

Jennifer stabbed at the pieces of rabbit cooking on the spit over the fire. It was late and she'd ridden hard all day. She lost the posse yesterday and eased up enough to give her sister time to get home. She planned on laying low, camping outside town for a couple of days until things cooled off. Damn that blond cowboy! She poked an angry stick at the fire, pretending it was his face. He'd ruined everything. How did Jess let him get away? She was lucky that lovestruck brother of his wasn't thinking clearly, or she'd be dead or in jail. No matter, things would work out. They always did. Whatever the Cassidy's wanted, they'd get eventually. They had enough money saved to live good for awhile. Maybe head east. Adam had connections in New York City. She yawned and finished the rest of the charred rabbit and doused the fire. With a final swig of coffee, she turned in for the night.

Nick knew he was close. For a day and a half he tracked her. Twice he'd been within range enough to see her in the distance, but as darkness fell, it became harder to see as the wooded area grew thicker. She eluded him. He drained his canteen and looked at the black, starless sky. He could press onward a little further, but it was late and he should wire home. He could double back to Blossom, a little mining town a few miles away. He'd get a good start in the morning. He turned his horse and trotted away, unaware that his prey lay sleeping just a few hundred yards behind him.

"Look, Miss Cassidy, there are certain facts regarding your actions of the past several days which need to be addressed. Let's start with your wherabouts last night from seven to nine p.m."

Jarrod had seen his share of cool customers in his day. He'd certainly defended some clients that didn't crack under pressure, but Jessica Cassidy was a real ice maiden. She never said a word the entire trip home and in the three hours since they'd arrived, she offered little. He listened as Frank questioned her with the district attorney, Jim Sinclair, present.

"I told you where I was. Can't you read that scratch you call script?" she nodded at Frank's roughly written notes.

"Once again, please, Miss Cassidy, from the top."

"Until my attorney arrives, I'm not saying another word. I told you I was accosted on the road. Adam found me late last night and we took the train home."

"Why didn't you report this incident?"

"I didn't see him. What good would it have done. Now, gentlement, I'll be saying goodnight."

She turned her back on them and walked to the corner of the cell, pouring a small amount of water in the bowl. Frank shook his head at Jarrod as he, Jim and Fred left the cell. Jarrod picked up his jacket and was ready to go when she approached.

"Give a lady a hand, Handsome?" She cooed, offering the back buttons on the dress that was constricting on this humid night.

"You're on your own," He paused and added with a little contempt, "Lady. I'd add there are women working the upstairs at the saloon that suit that name better than you."

He shut the cell door and her sultry voice called after him. He was headed towards the outer room of the sheriff's office.

"Shame about that brother of yours. A real pity." She mocked.

He wheeled and shot her a venomous look through the bars. Turning away once more, her throaty laughter followed him.

Back at the ranch, Heath was in a prison all his own. Unable to move his legs, and weakened from the termendous blood loss, the usually energetic cowboy, was held captive by the confinements of his bed. With the determination of a bull terrior, the young man tried to make his lower appendages obey what his brain was ordering them to do, but without success.

He pounded the bed in frustration and cursed the hand of fate. What if Doctor Merar was wrong? What if this wasn't temporary? Working the ranch meant everything to him. These last two years he'd felt a contentment before unknown. The respect he had yearned for so long could be seen in the eyes of the hands he worked with. Could he be happy staying inside, without the pure pleasure of riding Charger and feeling the wind whip against his face, roping and breaking broncs and just the satisfaction of things purely physical? Even the damn fence posts would look good. He let his guard down and allowed the melancholy to share his bed.

The wonderful aroma of coffee and cinnamon rolls greeted the lawyer as he strode through the doorway.

"Mr. Jarrod? What are you doin' up so early?" Silas greeted.

Jarrod smiled and shut the kitchen door behind him. He grabbed a hot cinnamon roll from the tray on the table and took a healthy bite. As he ate, he nodded gratefully at the glass of juice the servent offered.

"I wanted to check in with Jake and make sure everything was okay with the ranch. I hope Nick gets back today."

"Yessir, me too. These last few days, seems like a black cloud hoverin' over the house."

Silas shook his head and returned to slicing ham for the morning meal.

"Oh, Silas. Is Heath's tray ready? He was asleep when I got in last night and I'd like to spend some time with him."

"It's up there, but he won't eat it. He's wearing a long face. I sure hope them legs of his get to workin'. Can't see that boy happy doin' anything else."

"I'll have a word with him, Silas. Thanks," Jarrod reassured, nodding to the elderly man.

Jarrod paused in Heath's doorway and studied the forlorn face staring at the wall. Silas was right on the money. Heath had the ranch in his blood. The satisfaction he got from the long days and backbreaking work seemed lost on Jarrod. Heath was good at what he did and it showed in the high level of dedication he applied to everything he laid his hands on. And Nick? Nick had come to rely so much on their blond brother, that it would be devastating to him as well. Heath had become a part of Nick and the ranch...a union forged from the gap left by the death of their father.

Jarrod had no doubt Heath could excel at any field he applied himself to. Not just because of the dedication and work ethic that was his makeup, but the intelligence that he possessed. One look at the modifications his brother had made to the engineer's drafts told him Heath had untapped potential.

"You plannin' on standin' there all day?"

"Huh?" Jarrod roused. "Oh, sorry Heath, I was lost in thought. How are you? I stopped in last night, but you were sound asleep."

Jarrod eyed the untouched tray as he eased another pillow behind his brother. Other than for meals, the doctor wanted Heath to lie as flat and still as possible.

"Heard from Nick at all?"

"No, but I'm sure I'll see him or get a wire from him today. Actually, I'm relieved we found Jessica. With the state of mind he was in, I was worried about what might happen."

"He would have brought her in, that's what he'd do," Heath said confidently.

"How can you be sure?" Jarrod asked, reaching for the tray. "He was very hurt and angry when he left."

"Jarrod, you know Nick. He's no killer. He'd get mad, holler loud and stomp around some. He might get a little rough with her, but that's where it would end. He's got a code inside him, deep and solid. Call it what you might, ethics or prinicples. I just know there's no one like him."

"You're right there, Heath. How about eating something? You have to build yourself back up."

Heath nodded and stared mutely at the food before him. His mother was upset that he didn't finish his dinner the night before. She was right, he needed to eat to regain his strength, but he just wasn't hungry. He felt bad about the extra effort Silas took, making some of his favorites. Ham, grits, and some corn fritters.

"I know you're a little down about this Heath, but it's only been a few days. The swelling has gone down considerably. Doc Merar told me he's very encouraged. There's every hope that..."

"That what, Jarrod? That I won't be a useless carcass sittin' in the house all day?"

Heath shook his head and pushed the tray away.

Jarrod pushed it right back and sat on the bed, leveling a harsh set of blue eyes at his brother with a tone to match.

"Now you listen to me, Heath. What happened to you is tragic. An awful experience, and I'm praying that it's temporary. But if this condition is permanent, than you will have to make some major adjustments and go on with your life. You're as intelligent a man as I've ever met."

Jarrod didn't miss the blond head rise up and the eyebrows raise in astonishment as well at that comment. Without pausing, he continued.

"I have absolutely no doubt that you will excel at any vocation you choose. Given the opportunity, you'd make a fine engineer. Those modifications you made were exceptional, and you did that without any formal training. I know how much you love this ranch and being a large part of it's success, but most of that has to do with your heart and your mind. Those tools you can use anywhere."

Jarrod sensed some hope returning to the downcast cowboy. He laid a hand on the slumped shoulder and concluded.

"The courage you've shown, the obstacles you've overcome since boyhood are a large part of that which makes you so special, Brother. It won't be easy, challenges never are. But if anyone has the tenacity to conquer this, it's you. There's no room in this house for self-pity. Tom Barkley didn't produce quitters."

Jarrod watched carefully but Heath never raised his head. He left the bed and made his way to the window. He watched the hands leaving for their work day. He scanned the horizon hoping to see a blur of Coco, but no such luck. He turned back and felt a glimmer of encouragement. Heath's eye's were a little brighter and his shoulders were straight. He smiled at the cocked head, something Heath was never aware he did when he was deep in thought. Something his father always did. Then slowly the hand made it's way to the fork and one by one, the ham and other breakfast foods disappeared. Finally, the amber colored medicine was drained as well.

Heath ate in silence, lost in thought and absorbing Jarrod's words. He took in all that went behind the words as well. He cast a tentative eye at his oldest brother and gave a half smile. Jarrod nodded and returned the smile. He removed the tray and took the extra pillow away. The medicine would take effect soon.

"You need anything before I leave?"

"No thanks, Jarrod. Between what Silas cooked and you served up, I'd say I'm just about bustin'."

"Well, I'll see you at dinner."

Jarrod drew the curtains, cutting out the harsh sunlight and allowing the room to cool slightly. The morning sun fell right into Heath's bed and the weary invalid was grateful. He snagged the lawyer's wrist as the sheet was pulled up.

"Thanks," Heath managed through a yawn as his blue eyes closed.

"Any time, Brother." Jarrod replied, knowing Heath wasn't talking about the sheet or the window.

Nick dissected the contents on his plate which was an animal of some sort. That he was sure of, but what it was now, was anyone's guess. One thing was certain, it wasn't going inside of him. He pushed the grayish, mealy mix away and settled for coffee and stale rolls for breakfast. Whoever named this town "Blossom" had a cruel sense of humor. The sooner he got going, the better. It was bad enough he lost Jessica, but sharing his room with multi-legged critters was icing on the cake.

"You Mr. Barkley?" a wizened old man asked.

"Yeah?"

"This come for you last night."

Nick scanned the brief note, which only stated that the two felons were in the town prison. He threw his hat on the table in disgust. How the hell did she get back near Stockton? She was slicker than a cat covered with bacon grease.

"Dammit," he swore loud enough to make the old man move faster than the geezer thought possible.

He wanted the pleasure of capturing her. Looking her in the eye and letting the disgust sear into her pink skin. Telling her what a cur she was and making her squirm. Well, he'd see her in Stockton. She would feel his wrath. He threw a handful of silver at the swarmy, aging waitress and left. He wired the sheriff, figuring Jarrod would be there. With any luck, he'd be home by four o'clock or so.

The morning progressed slowly. Jarrod persuaded Frank to wait until later in the day to interview Heath, hoping some sliver of chance would bring his memory back. They decided to question Adam but got nowhere. He'd already wired for his father to send Spencer Cummings to defend them. Jarrod groaned when the sheriff informed him of the wire Adam had received. Cummings was as good as they got. If Heath didn't recover his memory, Jarrod's stalwart adversary wouldn't even break a sweat.

"She's asking for you, Jarrod," Fred indicated with a nod of his head.

Jarrod walked to the back cell where Jessica was finishing with her hair. She was as stunning as she was cunning. Quite a combination. She smiled deviously and her voice oozed through the bars.

"Oh, there you are, Sugar. Last chance, Counselor, we could make some nice music together. That blue eyed bastard can't mean that much to you."

"You're descpicable, truly without morals, not to mention decency."

"Oh, them eyes of yours sure do shine when you get fired up! I'll say one thing, your Papa sure did produce some fine lookin' studs. I heard tell he wasn't above makin' a girl feel good...and I don't mean your mother. "

"Give my regards to Lucifer, when you see him. Good day."

Jarrod stormed out and once more his ire rose as her raucous laugh echoed in the hall.

"Heath, Jarrod is bringing Frank Wells from the Pinkerton Agency over this afternoon."

"Shame his trip out here will be wasted. I been rackin' my brain all day, Mother...can't remember a blasted thing," he scowled.

Audra entered and greeted him warmly. She perched in the chair next to his bed and babbled on about Will and her friend Marcy and the quilting party and Sarah's bridal shower. He heard her voice but not the words. He felt her hand on his arm and saw the water glass.

"Heath Barkley, you didn't hear one word I said," his blond sister frowned.

"Guilty as charged. I'm sorry, Little Sister, I'm just real restless. What were..."

His voice stopped and she watched as he cocked his head, staring at her throat. She unconsciously fingered the area. The broach, the one he gave her. She was wearing it.

"What is it Heath? Do you remember this pin? It's from you, for my birthday. You..."

She stopped as she saw him blinking rapidly and panting. Victoria crossed the room and sat on the bed, taking his hand and squeezing it.

"Heath, What is it?"

It was just a flash, but it was important somehow. A fight, an awful fight with Nick. Cascading down the stairs, smashing furniture and Nick's red-faced fury. Something else, just on the outside of his memory, lurking in the corner of his mind like a thief in the night. Danger. Then it was gone. He looked deep into Victoria's eyes.

"What happened between me and Nick? Did we have a fight?"

"You and Nick had a rough couple of days and you had a couple of good brawls," Victoria assessed as she took the pin from her daughther.

"Honey, do you remember the day you bought this?"

"Heath fingered the pretty pin and stared hard. There was nothing."

"I'm sorry."

He handed it back to Audra and saw the disconcerted look she wore. He suddenly got an awful feeling; one that sickened his stomach. He'd hurt her terribly in some way.

"Audra, I...I did something awful, didn't I? I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"

She swallowed back tears when she saw the deep pain in those eyes like the sky. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, then ran a hand along his face. Smiling, she reassured him.

"The only thing you have to be sorry for is not dancing with me on my birthday, Big Brother. I'm holding you to that. I'll be expecting that dance. Promise?"

He nodded and released her hand as she left the room. Why was everything so dark? Doc Merar said sometimes people have memory lapses from trauma. His mother mentioned the name Jessica, and he watched how she looked at

him, but the name meant nothing to him.

A huge void that left him feeling empty inside, as if a chapter in this strange string of events had been ripped out and thrown by the way side. He didn't know what all this missing chapter contained, but he had a feeling that it's contents would help piece this unsolved mystery together. His gut instincts told him the lost information could be vital to his family.

"Just give it time, Sweetheart; don't be so hard on yourself," Victoria advised, walking to the dresser and picking up a snack tray full of fruit, cake and iced tea. As she crossed the room, she noticed the strain of exertion and struggle now displayed on her youngest son's face.

"Howard said it may take awhile," she added, setting the tray down on the wooden night stand and gently touching her son's arm. "Here, why don't you take a little nourishment. You really haven't eaten much of anything since breakfast."

Heath ceased his efforts as the steady massage on his shoulders relaxed his upper body. Capturing the small, firm hand, he kissed it and gave his mother a weak smile.

"Have I mentioned today how much a love you?" he asked, with a twisted grin.

"No, and it's about time," she teased. "Now, if you really love me, why don't you show me by eating some of this good food."

It was nearly five o'clock when Nick stopped outside the Sheriff's office in Stockton. Wearing his determination like a second skin, he forged through the room, not interested in exchanging pleasantries with the marshall.

"Nick, now hold on a minute, you can't just go barging in there," Billy warned, skirting the desk.

"You watch me," he growled, leaving the green deputy in his wake.

Jessica was finishing her supper. She looked up without any emotion on her face and slowly pulled the fork out of her mouth, ending with a long sucking sound.

"Miss me, Sugar?" she drawled, waltzing over to where he stood.

"Like the plague," he shot hotly.

"Pity. Real Pity," she oozed as her hand caressed his inner thigh through the bars.

Nick grabbed the hand and twisted it painfully, causing her to cry out. His eyes were alive, like molten lava erupting from a fiery volcano. With all the contempt he could muster, his lips barely moved as he leaned in close to her face.

"I hope they hang you. I intend to be there in the front row. I'll be sure and wave."

"Honey, I'll be dining in the best hotel in San Francisco in a couple days," she crooned. "There's no proof I've commited any crimes, let alone a hangin' offense."

"I'm proof. You tried to kill me. That's attempted murder. When my brother gets done testifying against you ..."

"Oh now, Sweetlips, you know as well as I do, that that poor brother of yours can't remember a thing. Unless he gives a statement by tomorrow night, I'm walking right out that door. Shame about his legs, what a waste. Umm...umm he sure was pretty, and one fine tastin' specimen, too," she leered.

"You shut your filthy mouth," he raged and grabbed at her through the bars.

She backed up and laughed, the tongue that once danced with his, soft and pink, now seemed black and forked. She relished every bit of his rage and hurt. She ran her hands along her body and huskily spoke.

"Remember how good it felt, Lover. Those strong, calloused hands on these soft curves. That hot mouth of yours on my ..."

Nick's sneer interrupted her trip down memory lane.

"Don't flatter yourself. I've had better in flophouses on the Barbary Coast."

"Temper, temper, Nicky darling. You don't wanna go bustin' up that blond haired honey again. Oh, I forgot, he's a cripple now, or maybe that won't make a difference. Felt good to thrash him, didn't it, Romeo?"

Nick gripped the bars as if a burst of superhuman strength would pull them apart. He wanted to wrap his hands around the white throat and choke the life out of her. He wanted the green eyes that now laughed at him, to plead for mercy.

His eyes averted to the key on the wall. He took it off the hook and slowly returned to the latch. His control caught her off guard and she backed up. He was much more dangerous now; she'd gone too far. The key turned and he entered, not showing the satisfaction he felt by the look of terror on her face. He flexed the gloved fingers and took a step. His lethel thought was cut off by a strong arm.

"Okay, Nick, that's enough," Fred warned, pulling Nick back.

Nick turned and left, leaving her with a final thought.

"When it comes right down to it, Jessica, you're just about the most unsightly, ordinary whore I've had the misfortune to cross paths with. By the time them guards at Quentin are through with you, you won't be able to pay a blind leper to touch you."

Jennifer pulled the hat down lower over her face as she entered the train station at Miller's Crossing. She knew the last train was at eight p.m. and didn't want to miss it. The sooner she got outta these parts and back to Jess and Adam, the better. As she stood in line, a conversation on the bench beside her got her undivided attention.

"Not safe in your own home! What's the world coming to, Jonas?"

"I don't know, Lou, but I feel real sorry for that Barkley fella. Nice boy. Shame about him being paralyzed and all."

"Yeah, sure is, but at least the family has the satisfaction of knowing that woman who did it is locked up."

"Wasn't that an odd thing? That Cassidy gal, right? The one Nick was courtin'? Something wrong with the world when a pretty thing like that resorts to lootin' and shootin'."

"I heard she's wanted in 'Frisco...that them lawyers up there are scurryin' around trying to find witnesses. Seems that they feel once Heath gives his testimony, it might help them other cases some."

"Yeah, but ain't he in a bad way? What if he don't make it to trial?" Lou asked.

"They're gettin' some fancy lawyers to take his statement in the morning, with witnesses and such," Jonas replied.

"Where'd you hear that?"

"My Mary cooks the meals they're feeding that gal in the jail. I was waiting for her outside and heard the sheriff talking to Jarrod."

Jenn's mind was spinning. Jess in jail? She turned and very carefully walked outside. She made her way back to where she'd left the horse. Throwing her saddlebags over the animal, her mind was already forming a plan. Jess wouldn't be in jail if it wasn't for her blundering the assignment. It was now up to her to free Jess. A smile curled on her lips as she rode toward the Barkley ranch.

"Shame them fancy lawyers wasted their trip down here," she crowed to the horse. "Cause that blond cowboy ain't gonna live to see the light of day."

Urging the steed onward, she rode into the dark night.

It was now midnight and Jennifer had been watching the house for a little over two hours. One by one she had watched as the various lighted windows in the house had gone dark, starting with the main floor and finally, now the upstairs. Only one room remained very dimly lit. She had observed a woman's shadow turning it down while another room burned bright. The woman had then entered the brightly lit room and it wasn't too long after that that only the dim light remained.

"That must be the room of that blond cowboy," She thought.

She knew from the snippets of conversation she had caught while waiting at Miller's Crossing that he was striken to his bed, critically wounded. Next would come the tricky part...breaking into the house, finding the correct door, and completing her mission without being seen. The last part should be easy. From what she was able to pick up eavesdropping, that pesky cowboy wouldn't be putting up much of a fight. Getting in might prove to be a bit more difficult, but nothing she couldn't handle. The biggest risk would be accidentally turning the wrong knob. She didn't want to come face to face with Nick Barkley in the dark. No, the way he had been dogging her earlier, he'd had his cap set on catching her. She wasn't sure exactly what had made him decide to turn around and go back home. It wasn't likely that he had given up the chase. No, from what she could figure, Heath Barkley hadn't talked yet. Now it was up to her to make sure that he was silenced permently.

Creeping up to the backporch of the house, she tried the back door leading into the kitchen. It opened; this was too easy. Apparently none of the members of the household had remembered to lock it. She slipped inside, her small frame lending itself to her nimble and agile movements. Upon entering the kitchen, Jennifer struck a match and looked around. She had been in the home only a few days prior, but the rooms were spacious and it had been daylight then. Taking note of the ascending staircase, she began her climb to the upper level.

From where she had been hidden outside in her silent observation, she had a fairly good idea which room would turn up the wounded cowboy. She had counted the windows over from the left of the house, and now assuming that each door led to a room with it's own window, she would be in business. One, two, three...she reached the fourth door and slowly turned the handle. The creak of the hinges set every nerve on end as she continued to push it open. The slight scent of burning kerosine confirmed her hunch. In the shadows slumbered the form of the man who would soon become her next victim.

Tiptoeing over to the bedside, Jennifer stood over the motionless patient. His head resting comfortably on a large, down pillow, he seemed to be a bit restless. Reaching for the pillow, she pulled it out from under him, causing his head and shoulders to shift. He moaned and opened his eyes. The figure of a young woman with long, flowing hair loomed over him. He cocked an eyebrow and a smile flittered on his lips.

"Audra," he whispered drowsily, "why aren't you in bed? Don't worry 'bout me - I'm fine."

"That's where you're wrong, Sugar," the venomous voice responded, as she hovered over his weakened body holding the down pillow just inches from his face. "Wine and jewelry may be fine, this house is certainly fine...and then there's that fine line of right and wrong. Even these linens are fine," she scoffed, using her free hand to finger the ruffled bed sheets with mock expertise. "But that descriptive will never apply to you. No, I'd have to say you won't be feelin' the least bit fine. Now, take a good deep, breath, Honey, 'cause it's going to be your last!"

That voice...it seemed so familiar, but yet his thoughts were so cloudy and vague. Suddenly it was all coming back to him. Then it hit him...hard. Just as he realized who this was standing in his bedroom and that it wasn't just a bad dream, he felt the plush softness of the pillow closing in around him. Struggling for air, he fought with all the strength his upper body would allow. He could feel her weight pinning his chest to the bed as she leaned on him with one knee. She would have to be directly in front of him. He remembered the long, golden hair. Flailing his arms upwards, he found the thick strands and clenched the yellow mane in his tightly balled fists. Yanking hard, she screeched in sheer startlement and pain as her head was snapped back.

Heath could feel the pressure subside as she released her hold on the feather pillow. Heaving his body hard, he rolled himself out of bed, landing on top of her. She fought and squirmed, but the dead weight of Heath on top secured her to the floor.

"Nick!" Heath called, trying to catch his breath. "Nick, I need you!"

In his room across the hall, Nick had been awakened by a shrill scream...a scream that seemed all too familiar. In the haze of semi consciousness, he tried to collect his thoughts. He heard a loud thud and his name being called.

Once again, the windows in the large white mansion began to light up again, one by one, as various members of the family were roused by the commotion down the hall. Nick was the first to enter Heath's bedroom. Running to the night stand, he turned up the light and saw the woman he once loved pinned beneath his convalecent brother.

"Jessica!" he exclaimed in stunned disbelief.

Jessica was supposed to be locked up in the Stockton jail. He had seen her there himself just this afternoon, yet here she was in Heath's bedroom. He didn't know what kind of jail Fred was running over there, but he was going to be speaking with the town council about tighter security. By this time, the rest of the family was congregated at the door of the bedroom.

"Get up!" Nick snapped, tightly grasping Jennifer's small arm as he prepared to pull her out from under his brother.

"Nick what's wrong. Is Heath all...," Victoria's voice died in her throat.

"Mother..."

Nick's concentration was distracted only for seconds, but it was long enough for the wildcat to bare her claws. She ran the lethal spikes down his neck and used the other one to gouge his eye. Cursing and blinking his tearing eye, he held fast and the two did a drunkardly dance across Heath's floor.

"JARROD! JARROD!" Victoria called from the doorway.

Racing to her stricken son's side, she watched Nick struggle to gain control of the she-devil. Her hand reached down for the gun she wore at her side, but Nick's quick jab knocked it out of her fingers and onto the floor. Nick seemed to be gaining the upper hand in the struggle, but she took his legs out from under him with one swift move behind his knees. He landed on top of her and managed to pin one wrist down while trying to gain control the free one.

"It will be a real pleasure when they throw your sorry backside in jail. I'm gonna personally see to it that the key is thrown away for good. You're one sorry excuse for a female," he leered.

"And who made you such a good judge of people?" she spat, hitting him hard between the legs with her balled fist.

It didn't do the damage her well versed knee could have, but it caught him off guard and he fell sideways. Slithering across the floor, her livid green eyes were intent on the gun which now lay within reach. Nick's arm caught her boot, but not before she closed on her prize.

Heath's vision cleared and the room began to come into focus. He watched as Nick fell sideways and Jennifer slithered towards him like the slimy snake that she was. He saw Jarrod and Audra arrive in the doorway.

"Jarrod," Heath cried and kicked the gun to his startled brother.

Jarrod picked up the gun and took aim.

"End of the road , Miss Cassidy. I think we've all had enough of your act."

"Jarrod, help Heath!" Nick seethed, knees buckling as he tried to stand.

Jarrod pushed his way past Audra and the wiggling, cursing vamp who now felt the wrath of Nick Barkley's full fury. His eyes burned like coals as he grabbed the back of her neck with one hand and her wrists with the other. His vice-like clinch caused her to curse and kick. This only intensified his stranglehold. She trembled a little when she saw the pure hatred in his eyes.

"Go ahead, just give me an excuse," He growled.

Jerking her to her feet, she didn't have a snowball's chance of squirming free from Nick's steel grip.

"Now how do you suppose she managed this?" Nick questioned through clenched teeth. "Seems like we have an escape artist on our hands! Well, when I get through with you, Sister," he threatened, locking his ominous gaze onto Jennifer, "there's going to be nowhere safe for you to escape to!"

"I wouldn't count on that, Cowboy," she stammered, her face flushed with anger. "Sooner or later I'll be loose again, and then I comin' after you!"

"Don't listen to her, Nick," Heath interjected from the floor, where his mother and sister now crowded around him, along with Jarrod. "She ain't that good. You only think she is 'cause there's two of 'em. She's the one that held up the jewelry store in Fairfield, while her twin sister made sport of you here in Stockton."

"Are you sure, Heath?" Jarrod questioned. "Are you sure she's the one?"

"I'm sure, alright!" Heath affirmed. "Let's just say that by now there's been plenty of opportunity for me to get to know the Cassidy twins real well!"

"Let's get her to the sheriff, Nick," Jarrod suggested. "I'd say the pair will make excellent cellmates."

"Yeah," agreed Nick. "It's such a shame for a family to be separated...especially twins! Now, come along, Princess," he drawled, his words dripping in sarcasim. "I'm going to get a little bit of rope and tie you over the saddle of that horse of yours. Just some added insurance that you won't be tryin' any more of your tricks durin' our ride into Stockton!"

"Jarrod," Victoria beckoned as Nick and Jennifer prepared to exit the bedroom, "help me get Heath back into bed and then go give Nick a hand. I have a feeling he may need it."

"Help him?" Nick exclaimed as he turned with a mischievous smile gracing his lips. "Why there's nothin' wrong with that boy's legs. From the looks of that kick that sent the gun sailin' Jarrod's way, it won't be long 'til he's runnin' circles around all of us. In fact, just in time for all them fence holes that need diggin'."

"How about it Heath?" Jarrod said with a wink to his youngest brother as he lifted him from the floor.

Heath held onto Jarrod like a toddler does to it's parent. He hesitantly placed one foot in front of the other and managed two steps before his knees buckled.

"Show-off," Audra teased, taking up the other arm as Jarrod helped get him to the bed.

Heath's smile lasted long after he fell asleep.

"Mother?"

"In here, dear. How did it go?"

Jarrod entered the parlor where his mother was reading a book. He kissed the top of her head and flipped the cover.

"The new Mark Twain novel? When did that arrive?"

"Today. Now, Jarrod, how did it go?"

"The District Attorney is confident that with Heath's testimony and the revelation of twins, in addition to the witnesses who have come forward, that those two feline felons won't see the light of day for some time."

"Do you think he's strong enough? He's just now beginning to gain some strength back. I don't think he is up to a strain like that."

"By the time the trial date is announced and the attorneys for that pair file extensions, Heath will be strong enough, I don't think anyone will be able to stop him. Where are Nick and Heath anyway?" Jarrod queried regarding his younger brothers.

"In Heath's room. Dinner is almost ready."

Jarrod stopped in the bedroom door, perplexed slightly at the sight of Nick. His brother was sitting in a chair pulled close to Heath's bed. Nick's long legs were extended on the bed over the sheet covering his brother's knees. Several piles of papers, receipts no doubt, were stacked on various parts of Heath's sleeping form. Nick was slouched comfortably, with a large ledger on his lap. His brow furrowed as he scratched out figures and noted transactions.

"Wouldn't you be more comfortable at the desk downstairs," Jarrod asked, entering.

"Nope," Nick replied without looking up.

"What are you doing?"

"Me and Heath are balancing the books."

Jarrod studied Heath's face, relaxed in sleep. His chest rose and fell in a steady rate, never disrupting the dozens of account references and bills that were resting on him. Jarrod's blue eyes squinted and he watched Nick's hand moving.

"So what exactly is Heath's role in this partnership?"

"Support," Nick grunted.

He lifted his lean legs, indicating his use of Heath as a foot stool and waved his hand, showing how Heaths torso supported all the receipts rather nicely.

Jarrod watched as Nick turned over a yellow bill of lading and it fell to the floor. Reaching for it, he frowned and directed a question at the cowbody turned accountant.

"Nick, these aren't coded."

"What coded? Whaddya talkin' about?" Nick scowled, finally looking up.

"Coded, Nick. You know, marking on the bill - the ledger number, page and column number so I can cross reference them if I need to. You know how much time that saves me? That coding system of Heath's is a godsend."

"Oh," Nick squirmed.

"Nick, please tell me these are coded."

Jarrod looked a little dismayed at the large pile of slips on the floor.

"Sorry, Jarrod. He usually takes care of that, I guess I forgot, but that's okay, I marked some of them, see."

"SLAP?" Jarrod carped. "What does that mean?"

"Shipment Late Access Penalty," NIck said proudly, replacing the slip.

"Thought of that all on your own, did you Nick?" Jarrod chastised, shaking his head.

"What's the matter with you? Makes sense to me," Nick defended.

"And what about those of us less fortunate souls who don't understand 'Nick-speak'?. Please, Nick, leave these for Heath. He'll need something to keep him busy while he recovers. It's not your strong suit."

"Yeah, well, maybe you're right. Audra and the giggling pack of females she'll have trooping in here will have the kid nuts in a week."

Nick carefully placed the completed receipts in the book , while Jarrod gathered the small piles from his youngest brother's chest. He took the book from Nick and carried all the material over to Heath's small desk in the corner.

"Dinner's almost ready. You coming down for a drink?" Jarrod asked by the door.

"Nah, I'll hang around here, he's gonna be wakin' up soon. I'll see you at the table."

Nick stretched and rubbed his eyes. The long, hot day on the range had left him weary. Maybe he'd take a cool bath after dinner and work himself up to a game of pool with Jarrod. His thought was interrupted by his legs being unceremoneously dumped on the floor.

"Make yourself at home," a drousy voice complained.

Nick smiled at the cranky, sleepy voice and the face that owned it. He attempted to help his weakened sibling sit up and was rewarded by a slap to the hand and low growl.

"Stop fussin', Nick. Leave me be."

"What's your problem?"

"Sorry," Heath offered, wincing.

"Back pain again?" Nick frowned

"It ain't bad. Reckon it's a whole lot better than feelin' no pain," Heath sighed.

Nick watched as Heath took his pain medicine and followed it with a long swig of water. The last few days had seen much improvement in his brother's condition. Nick usually got home after Heath was asleep. They really hadn't talked about that night. Now was as good a time as any.

Nick slouched in his chair across from his brother who was massaging his calves. He fidgeted in the chair and tried to get started. He was about to speak when Heath's head came up.

"Spit it out Nick, what's stuck in your craw?"

"Uh...well I...It's like this. That night, when Jennifer had me dead to rights and you took the bullet," Nick stopped and Heath smiled broadly. He'd let Nick squirm a little more, then let him off the hook.

"Guess that makes us even, Brother," Heath saved.

"Even how?" Nick wondered aloud, his face confused.

Heath looked past his brother's strong arm to the window outside. The sun would be setting soon. The orange ball was gliding slowly into the horizon. He thought back to how strong the emotional tide was that day in court almost two years ago. The day the guards testified. The day he found out just how much his brother loved him.

"For gettin' me out of that box," Heath quieted, finding Nick's hazel eyes.

Nick winced as the awful memory of that black moment came back into mental view. The long, agonizing hours that he'd spent watching that damn box through the prison window. The way his gut was ripped to shreds every time Heath's moans and cries struck his ear. How his heart sank and his stomach turned when the unconscious form tumbled out of that iron box. Risley...that was the closest he ever came to killing a man with his bare hands.

"Heath, you thanked us after you came around. Me, Lobo, all the guys that helped bust ...."

"I'm not talking about the jailbreak, Nick. I'm thanking you, for...for what you did."

The depth of Heath's emotion was evident in the tone of his voice.

He grabbed Nick's shoulder and wouldn't let him avert his gaze. Heath remembered all too well the overwhelming sensation that rocked him to the bone when the guard testified. That his brother, his best friend, someone he admired like no other, went down on his knees...to a spineless cesspool; a subhuman monster who didn't deserve to breathe the same air as Nick Barkley. That day in court, when the words tumbled forth, Heath was stunned. He tried to find Nick's eyes, but Nick wouldn't look at him. The long day of testimony only furthered the gap. A long, uncomfortable silence in the hallway that day told Heath that Nick had considered the debt free and clear. He wouldn't talk about it, and Heath hadn't pushed. But now, he wouldn't let his brother look away.

Nick felt the strong grip on his shoulder and leaned forward. He raised his eyes, only inches away from Heath's. The expressive blue eyes shone with a stirring pride. Nick's eyes were moist and his chest felt a little tight. His mouth opened and closed several times, he looked away and a hand turned him back.

"Sometimes, Heath," he stopped and swallowed hard; his eyes locked into his brothers, reaching, "you gotta do whatever it takes," he sighed and continued. "You know what I mean?"

"Yeah, Nick, I do. So now you understand why I did what I did, okay?"

Nick nodded and swallowed hard, gripping the back of the fair-haired head. Nick's shirt was partially unbottoned and a mischieveous smile crossed the blond cowboy's face. Nick didn't see the smile appear or retreat. Heath could see he was still lost in thought.

"Course, that don't make things totally even," Heath seriously mocked.

"Whaddya mean?" Nick's head shot up.

Heath opened Nick's shirt and carefully studied the claw marks on the side of his neck. His forehead creased as he shook his head.

"Nope, my scars are a whole lot prettier than yours."

Nick cuffed the side of Heath's face and laughed.

"I don't know about that, Brother. I think I have the edge."

"Yeah, but you don't got these," Heath turned slightly to show Nick the scarlett streaks from misguided passion on his back.

"Where'd they come from?"

Heath yawned and laid back on the pillow, bringing his knees up and closing his eyes.

"Hey," Nick shouted, smacking the top of the blond head, "I'm talking to you!"

"I don't recall real clear, Nick. My mind's still real fuzzy. I think it was when me and Jessica, no maybe it was Jennifer...maybe it was both..." his voice trailed off as he feigned sleep.

"Both! Boy, you are delerious. I think that fever's coming back. You'll need a whole lotta practice before you get in my class. Heath? Heath are you sleeping?"

Nick pulled the sheet up and grunted all the way to the door. He glanced back just in time to see the head in the bed pop up and the wink and grin that followed. His loud laughter echoed through the halls and followed him down' to dinner.

"Mother! Audra! Where is everybody?"

Nick threw his hat on the table in the foyer and paced the lower level of the Barkley mansion, his spurs keeping tune with each long stride.

"Heath! What are you doin' up and about," the tall cowboy exclaimed, finding his little brother at the desk in the library, knee deep in paper.

"Oh, just goin' through some of these books. I couldn't stand another day in that bed with Mother and Audra fussin' over me. They left this mornin' to visit out at the Mission and I figured I'd take full advantage of havin' the house to myself. Where've you been all mornin'?"

"That, my dear brother, is what I came home to tell everybody. I met up with Fred in town this mornin', and he told me that the trial in San Francisco ended yesterday."

"Oh?" responded Heath. "That was pretty quick. What was the outcome?"

"Well, with your written deposition and the evidence that Frank Wells had supportin' murder charges in San Francisco, the Cassidy twins, along with Bennett have been sentenced to life in Quentin. I then went over to the telegraph office and picked up a wire from Jarrod," continued Nick, pulling a crumpled pieced of paper out of his vest pocket. "He says here that he's satisfied with the outcome of the trial and he'll be back home tomorrow evening!"

"Is he, now?" grinned Heath, using the desk for support as he stood up. "I think that calls for a little celebration, Nick! What do ya say?"

"You gettin' down those stairs all by yourself is a cause for celebratin', Little Brother! Here, let me give you a hand."

"No, Nick. I think I can manage this one all by myself," Heath rebutted in triumphant jubilation as he slowly began his trek across the room to the liquor decanters.

Pacing himself with Heath, Nick kept in time with each teetering step, ready to lend a hand if the situation arose.

"Hey, that's pretty good," he congratulated as Heath put a hand out for the small table holding the bottles. "You'll be ready for the dance floor in no time!"

"Speakin' of dance floors, Nick, who are you goin' to be takin' to the social Sunday evenin'?"

"Oh, to tell you the truth, I haven't given it much thought," Nick mulled wistfully. "I guess I'll probably end up goin' stag, if I even go."

"What? You not go! What did all those poor, deprived women do to deserve that?"

"I guess they'll survive. I think for the time bein' I'd best lay low from the women folk. Just think. If I hadn't fallen head over heels for Jessica, none of this probably would have happened to you...and you're more important to me than ten Jessicas...even if they were as pure as the driven snow."

Taking the drink that Heath had offered him, Nick put the shot to his lips and took a good, hard swallow.

"Ah, really hits the spot," he murmured in contented bliss, and then with a sly smile added, "and I thank you for givin' us reason to celebrate!"

"Say, Nick," Heath mused. "All this talk about Jessica and if she'd been as pure as the driven snow. If she was that pure, Nick, would we have both had the chance to find out what she really was like?"

"What do ya mean?" Nick questioned.

"Oh, you know. The kissin' and all that. Accordin' to the experienced Miss Cassidy, when it comes to smoochin', I've got you beat, Big Brother!"

"Is that so?" Nick played along, trying to put a serious tone in his voice. "And when did you get to be such an expert?"

"Let's just say I've had my opportunity," Heath teased. "You ain't the only one in this family that knows how to woo the ladies!"

"Well, since you know women so well, and since you're obviously recovered enough to be out and about, maybe you should go along to the dance Sunday night and show me how it's done. I mean after all, it's your voice of experience talkin'!"

"I just might do that. In fact that sounds like a great....."

"Heath Barkley! What are you doin' out of bed?"

Both brothers jumped as they traced the voice of reprimand to the tiny woman standing in the doorway with both hands placed firmly on her narrow hips.

"Oh, hello, Mother," Heath sheepishly replied.

"Mother! Glad you're home!" Nick cut in, trying to take some of the heat off his younger brother. "I'm starved!"

"In a minute, Nick. Right now I want to hear from your brother. Heath, you know what the doctor said. Plenty of bed rest for at least another week!"

"So does that mean I won't be goin' to the dance Sunday evenin'?"

"That's exactly what it means, Young Man. Now I want you to waltz upstairs to your bedroom. Right now!"

"Well, I guess that settles it, Nick," Heath shrugged. "You're goin' to have to get along as best you can with out me."

"Come on," Nick laughed, "I'll get the checker board and meet you up in your room. Maybe you can give me some pointers while I'm whippin' you at a game!"

Victoria smiled as she watched the backs of her son's disappear through the doorway and heard their laughter echo in the hallway. Nick's strong arm around Heath's shoulder, side by side, just as brothers should be.