"NICK! GET BACK IN THAT BED, NOW!"

Nick Barkley winced as every word seemed to slam into his aching head. Nodding and putting his right hand up defensivly, he complied and surrendered to his mother.

"Stop screaming. One headache is bad enough!"

She stood before him and took the abraised, swollen face in her small hands. Looking up, he started to say something, but got lost in the moist gray gaze of affection. She shook her head and ran her hands through his hair, pulling him close. Finally, she sat down and held onto his right hand. Laying her head against his shoulder, she heard his voice, soothing at first, then gradually work through hurt to anger.

"It sure is good to see you, too, Mother. For a while there it didn't look good. What those animals did....made us each think the others were dead. God, what a nightmare. Heath and Jarrod?"

"Jarrod's awake and just finished two bowls of soup and some bread. Your tray will be up soon. What you need most is lots of rest, fluids and good food. "

"Heath, Mother. How's Heath?" he asked, frowning, not liking the fact that she had hesitated.

"He has an awful lot of congestion in his lungs and a terrible fever, some broken ribs....he's so weak, Nick. He's fighting hard, but the effort to cough is too much for him. If he gets any worse..."

He pulled her in and squeezed the shoulders that quaked slightly. She absorbed the strength and power in the voice, so much like his father.

"He'll pull through, don't you worry. That boy's got more guts than ...well, he stands alone in that department. After what they put him through, he'd survive anything. Can I see him?''

"Not right now, Honey. He's been sleeping since he got here. You need to eat a full meal and sleep. Maybe later. I'll get that tray. Elsa is on a personal campaign to fatten you boys back up!" She helped him settle back in the bed and started to leave, then paused and turned.

"Sometimes your father's voice shines right through you. It's a wonderful feeling. I'll be right back."

He heard the voices and braced himself for the painful pounding on his aching back. Complying with their requests, he coughed as hard as he could. He welcomed the cool water to his heated face and accepted the ice. A woman's voice was calling him...she seemed very close by. Soft words, a gentle touch...only one touch like that..she was here, somehow. His lips moved, trying to seek her out. He heard her soothing tones and felt the hand running through his hair and the gentle stroke on his cheek. His eyes wouldn't budge, but knowing she was near, was enough. He lifted his hand and entangled his fingers in hers. He took a deep breath and felt the tears hit his face. Don't cry Mama, he tried to say, but the effort was too great. He squeezed the fingers and felt the power of a mother's love.

Victoria wiped her eyes and watched him silently beckoning. His head sought her out at the touch and she saw how hard he fought, his lips silently calling her. She leaned in stroking the flaming cheek and reassured him with all the love she could muster. She heard the deep breath, the first one in hours, and rejoiced. The doctor's weary smile, told her it was good news.

"I'm sure somewhere inside he was cursing us for pounding him like we did, but it worked. It's breaking up, now. Once that fever comes down and we get some food in him he should be feeling a lot better. Try giving him some broth, again. He seems to know you're near."

"Heath, Honey, it's Mother. I want you to swallow some of this soup. Come on, Son," she urged and nodded as the lips parted and he swallowed.

"That's fine, Son, let's have some more," she prodded and again he responded.

It was only a small cup of broth, but a large victory. She looked up to see Nick in the doorway, she was about to protest, but decided it would be a useless cause.

"I"m Doctor Edwards, and you should be resting." The doctor approached, guiding Nick to a bedside chair.

"Restin's all I'v been doin' all day. I'm tired of restin'," he complained, his eyes never leaving his brother's face.

"Nick, the doctor's right, you need to go back to that bed, now!" she said walking over to where he sat.

"In a few minutes." He leaned over and felt the flushed face with the back of his hand. "He's burning up. Can't you do something? " He flashed at the physician.

"I know you're upset and we have been working hard with him since last night. He's sick, Mr. Barkley, it won't go away over night. It's gonna take some time. He's past the worst of it, the congestion is breaking up. Once we get some food in him and some more fluids, the medicine will work better."

"Yeah, I know, I didn't mean to ..." Nick stopped, feeling the doctor's hand on his back.

"I have brothers too, Nick, I know how you feel. He's a lucky man."

"Heath, can you hear me? Open them eyes, half the day's gone, Boy!" Nick tried, but his brother remained silent. Nick watched the chest rise and fall. He felt his mother pulling his arm.

"All right, Mother, I get the picture."

"Heath, I gotta go, you know how Mother can be. I'll be back, and I want to see the whites of those eyes, looking back at me, you got it!"

"Hey, that's it! You heard me, huh? You're gonna be fine, Heath! You get some rest and we'll talk later." Nick smiled and squeezed the hand firmly.

Heath struggled and finally opened his eyes a slit. It was just a flash, but he saw Jordy and the kind woman...must be Jordy's mother...hugging. They laughed and were speaking to him, but he couldnt' hear. She bent and kissed his forehead. She sure was a nice lady...Jordy was lucky. Heath felt pretty lucky, too. Lucky to be alive after such a bloody battle with so many casualtiles. He celebrated by closing his eyes and letting his fatigued body rest.

The young Army nurse bent over him, dabbing at the beads of perspiration that formed on his feverish brow. His eyes were as slits as he peered up at her through his delirium. He didn't know where he was, but with a face like that, it certainly wasn't Carterson. He reached up and weakly fingered the thick, golden strands. Her smell of perfume reminded him of a place he had been before, so long ago.

"Welcome back," she whispered.

Her voice was kind and gentle. An angelic smile lit her face as her lily soft hands caressed his scarlet cheek.

"Here," she coaxed as she lowered a glass of water to his dry, weather-chapped lips. "Try to sip on some of this."

She lifted his head with her left hand and tilted the glass with her right. He gratefully took several long gulps before she tenderly eased his aching head back down to the pillow. With a damp cloth, she bathed his burning face in cool water.

"Your fever seems to be down a bit," she murmured, trying to sound cheerful. "That's a good sign. Soon you'll be up out of this bed and..."

Her sunshine seemed to dim as he stared up at her with moisture glistening in his eyes.

"Heath, are you okay?" she ventured, her hand reaching for his.

His eyes pleaded with hers. He wanted to tell her how glad he was that she was here, at his bedside, tending him. He wanted to hear her tell him that it was all just a nightmare, and none of this had ever happened. He wanted to erase the caustic memories of abuse, the war and Carterson from his anguished mind forever. He wanted to tell her what a beautiful girl she was...but the words just wouldn't come. Feelings of shame, sadness and frustration overwhelmed him as he turned his head and a lone tear ran it's path to his pillow. Using her delicate fingers, she brushed the moisture from his cheek and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. Closing his eyes, he shut himself away from her, away from the world.

"You just rest, Heath," she soothed. "I'll be right back."

Audra stood up and left the room.

"Pierce!"

Victoria emerged from the kitchen as the frozen young man hurried to the fire, his chattering teeth, unable to produce anything more than a nod. The roaring fire felt wonderful on his numbed extremities. The temperature had dropped considerably and finding the missing felon took longer than anticipated. He was finally able to rub his stiff fingers together, wincing as the circulation came back. He felt Victoria's hands on his own and heard the stern issuance.

"You're frozen! Why did you stay out so long? It's well past noon and you've been gone since last night! I bet you haven't had anything to eat, either!" She pulled the coat off and lead the nodding detective into the kitchen.

"I couldn't come back until it was done," he shivered, nodding gratefully at the mug of hot coffee, embracing the heat the ceramic mug produced.

"I know how you feel, and how loyal a friend you are to Jarred," she replied, placing a bowl of hot stew in front of him. "But making yourself sick, won't help anybody. Least of all, Claire and Jack."

"Yes, Ma'am," he nodded sheepishly, enjoying the mother's concern. "I guess your right, but I had a job to do and now it's done. We found Bear this morning...frozen in the snow...but I don't suppose he's cold any longer!" His scowl changed. "Boy, this is good," he said swallowing a large spoonful of the rich beef stew.

She placed several small rye rolls and a small scoop of whipped butter nearby and refilled the coffee mug. Pouring a cup for herself, she sat and watched the handsome young man eating.

"How are they today?" he paused, with a little guilt, not having thought to ask sooner.

"Jarrod and Nick are awake. They're weak, exhausted and a little feverish. With enough rest and food, they'll be able to travel home in four or five days."

"And Heath?" He set the spoon down, concern reflected in his brown eyes.

"Heath is very weak and trying to fight off the lung infection, but it's taking a toll on him. He woke up briefly and seemed to gain some strength by seeing Nick and myself. Once I get some food in him...," her voice trailed off. "Maybe I'll go up now and take him a bowl of broth."

He watched her put the tray together. Heading for the door, their eyes met and she paused.

"Oh, by the way, Pierce. Nick and Jarrod are in Jarrod's room. I'm sure they'll be

wanting an update."

Jarrod yawned and stretched, pulling himself upright and throwing his legs over the bed. His attempt at standing was met and conquered by a strong, familiar order-giver. He found himself pushed back on to the bed and the cover replaced. Leaning against the backboard, he winced at the barking command.

"You're not leaving that bed. For a lawyer, sometimes you just ain't too smart. Here, mother left this...you better eat it, she's on the warpath."

"Morning to you too, Nick," he winced, eyeing the food as his hands massaged the aching temples.

Nick discarded the newspaper and sat on the bed and patted his brothers leg. He spent a few minutes updating Jarred on the headlines, that the convicts were caught, although there was no mention of Bear, only that they had inside help. Jarrod saw the hazel eyes looking out the window at the distant mountain. Nick sighed and turned, meeting the blue eyes and smiling a little.

"Headache bad?" Nick's voice lowered.

"Bad enough. How are you feeling?"

"Feeling pretty damn lucky. That was just a little too close."

"Nick, that sounds like you lost confidence in my shooting ability."

Both brothers turned as Pierce walked across the large room. Nick stood and offered his hand, which Pierce took and returned the firm shake. Patting the detectives back, Nick offered a sincere statement.

"Pierce, you're either the best damn shot in the West or real, real lucky. Either way, there was nobody gladder to see your face through that window last night, than me. I won't forget this. Thanks, Buddy."

"You saw him?" Jarrod asked incredulously.

"Yeah, his head popped up from over the porch rail. Rizley was so lost in his lunacy, he didn't know where he was. Pierce motioned for me to stay still. I didn't want to tip his hand, so I was hoping you saw something in my face..."

"I did, Nick, but what I saw was a remarkable brother whose unbelievable courage took all the fear out of me."

Pierce smiled at the warmth between the brothers. Nick let that good feeling sink in and then the 'Nick voice' that Pierce knew so well, kicked in.

"You're just seeing that now? Fine thing...been through a war, dozens of close calls at home, and you're only now coming to appreciate me?"

Jarrod laughed and shook his head as Nick returned to his seat on the bed. Jarrod saw him wince and grab his midsection.

"Speaking of stubborn brothers, how about you getting back to bed and giving those ribs a chance to heal?"

"Me? Stubborn?" Nick sarcasted, with a brow arched. "Them two words shall never meet."

"Jarrod's right, Nick. Maybe you ought to get back to bed," Pierce offered. "I won't hold you up, but I thought you'd like to know that we found Bear a couple hours ago."

"Where is he? I'll rip him from limb to limb. The no good..." The pain forgotten, Nick's eyes glowed through his dark face as he leapt to his feet. "I'm gonna kill 'em and you ain't gonna stop me, Law Man," he furied at Pierce.

"Take it easy, Nick. Much as I would like to claim removing that offensive piece of waste from this planet, he was dead when we found him."

Jarrod watched Nick's shoulders slump and his fist unclench as Pierce eased him back onto the bed.

"How?" Jarrod asked.

"We'll never know for sure, but I'm guessing his horse threw him and he started to town on foot. He must've accidentally stumbled into a bear trap 'cause that's where he was when we found him."

"How appropriate," Jarrod mused as Pierce continued.

"I had men combing the surrounding area on horseback, looking for the guy. We searched all yesterday and nothing. About midmorning today we came across something in the snow."

"Bear?" Jarrod queried, watching Nick's dark face.

"That's correct. He was caught in a bear trap when we found him, but it would seem that exposure to the elements is what actually got him. I had the boys haul him back into town. Their will need to be proper verification to confirm that he is definitely the one who disappeared the same time that the other three broke out of prison. But from the description you gave me, it was him all right."

"Well, I guess that closes the chapter. How befitting that it was a bear trap that caught him, seeing how he went by that name." Pierced nodded as Jarrod continued. "By the way, who'd be setting out bear traps this late in the season? Everybody knows that they hibernate this time of year."

"We speculated that the trap was set earlier this spring by an old hermit that used to live north of town," Pierce explained. "We found his digs not to far away from where we found the trap, but he was nowhere to be found. I'm guessing that it was buried in the snow when that big blizzard hit. That big brute must've been running through the woods and planted his foot right in the middle of it."

"Pierce?" The detective waited, knowing that Jarrod had more to say. "I want to thank you. Thank you for keeping your promise. My brother will rest much easier now...knowing that one more ghost from Carterson is gone forever."

"Not good enough," Nick gritted through clenched teeth. He'd been listening to the story silent, until now.

"Nick, no one but your brothers and The Almighty knows the hell you all went through up there," Pierce reasoned. "But their dead, Nick. Those beasts who did that to you are all dead and you gotta let that resentment go. Save your strength to get well and help that brother of yours. From what I've heard from Jarrod, and read in the report the two of you gave, he'll need all your strength and care."

Nick stood and patted Pierce's shoulder before silently exiting the room.

"I didn't mean to upset him, Jarrod, but..."

"It's okay, Pierce, it's not you. Nick's blaming himself for all of this. Especially about

Heath..." Jarrod's voice trailed off and he met Pierces gaze. It was all in the report, Pierce knew about the whipping. "I'll talk to him and I'm sure once Heath is better, he'll get over it."

"Jarrod, what about you? How are you dealing with this? I'm all ears, Buddy."

"Thanks, Pierce."

Pierce saw the sincerity reflected in the blue eyes and knew that his friend's gratitude was coming straight from his heart. Sensing a high tide of emotion welling from deep within, he briskly stood to his feet, not wanting it to come crashing down in the presence of another.

"Well, I suggest you eat that lunch...your mother will be in soon. I'll stop back

in later. You get some rest," Pierce said, placing the lunch tray in front of his friend.

"Pierce?"

"Yeah," Pierce turned by the door.

"There is one thing you can do for me. Wire Dr. Moreau at Berkley. Ask if he'll be

available next week when we get back home, and give him a copy of the report. I've got a feeling we'll be needing him." Jarrod said of his former psychology professor.

"Will do, Jarrod. I'll stop in and see Vincent when I get back in a couple days."

"Couple days? Now that the case is wrapped up, I assumed you'd be leaving."

"Guess sometimes them 'assumptions' of yours are wrong." Pierce's smile went right through Jarrod. "You can't get rid of me that easy, Counselor," he said warmly, "I'll see you later"

"Thanks, Pierce," Jarrod returned the warm smile and started on his lunch.

Detective Summerfield slipped out of the room and made his way over to lodge. He felt satisfied for having completed another successful mission. But more importantly, it was Pierce Summerfield that embraced the mid morning sun, rejoicing in the fact

that he hadn't lost a good friend. Friends like Jarrod, well, they don't come any better

"NO! NO!"

He sat up and looked around the dimly lit room. Gasping, he covered his damp face with his hands before running them through his sweat-soaked hair. His heart was pounding so loud, they probably heard him across at the lodge. His shaking hands found the water pitcher. Pouring himself a glass, he glanced at the clock. It was just after midnight. It would be another long night. During the daytime, he was able to nap, resting without the fear of nightmares. But as the dark crept in, the demons came out from their lairs, stabbing the dark cowboy with brutal pitchforks. For three nights now, he'd been awakened by his own screaming, and for three nights, he'd ended up walking the halls, waiting for sunrise.

Throwing a flannel shirt over his long johns, he padded down the hall to the bathroom. Upon his return, he checked in on Jarrod. Walking to the bed, he pulled the covers up and watched the lawyer's chest rise and fall, the face serene. He eyed the pain medicine, tempted to take some. It's healing components created a sleep too deep for the demons to reach.

Opening Heath's door, he frowned at the empty bed, the low light illuminating the feeling of eeriness. Casting his eyes around the spacious room, he spotted his younger brother, curled up in the corner, his arms wrapped around his knees. He didn't even want to imagine the horrible night visions that Heath must be suffering. Not wanting to startle the sleeping man, he approached carefully. As he got closer, he noticed Heath's longjohns were soaked, as was his face and hair. Maybe his fever broke. He reached a hand out to verify his suspicion and pulled his hand back, recoiling in horror when Heath covered his head protectively, waiting for blows that would never come. He heard the frantic pace of Heath's breathing and felt the heat rise within him.

Nick's anger rose like a cobra. It's head unfurled as his good hand pounded the chest of drawers next to him, causing the pictures, and other articles to jump in fear. Cursing, his heart was torn. He didn't know what to do for his terrified sibling. With a deep breath, he used the chest for support and lowered himself, kneeling at Heath's side. He reached out and touched the drenched shoulder, drawing a terrified reaction.

"NO! Jordy help..."

Nick's pulled his hand back as if he'd touched a searing flame. It was little more than a whisper, but Nick was so close he heard a voice that belonged to a younger man, a boy, not his adult brother. He didn't touch him again, for the blond man was trembling, still shielding himself. He brushed back his own damp hair, now hanging in his face, and tried to think.

"Uh....Heath....it's Nick. I won't hurt you. You were having a bad dream," he spoke softly.

He watched the head rise tentatively, the blue eyes were alarmed and ran around the room, before looking right at him. It was then he noticed and his heart sank. The eyes were vacant, empty, and void of emotion. Heath drew his knees up in front of him and started to rock. The enormous gravity of the situation hit Nick hard...Heath didn't even know he was squatting next to him. He's gone, Nick's mind argued to the lion's heart that was broke in half and unwilling to accept the reality of the situation.

"Heath, come on, let me help you back to bed, okay?"

Wordlessly, the prisoner of memory got up and walked back to his bed. Nick noticed while helping him sit down, that the body was cool, the fever gone. He walked back over to the chest of drawers and found a new pair of dry longjohns. Placing them next to Heath, he squeezed Heath's shoulder. He left a clean towel there as well.

"You need to get them wet things off ...here's some dry longjohns. I'll get you some water...you get dried off and changed. Can you do that?"

He watched the silent nod, the face a chilling stone. When he returned Heath had put the clean cotton garments on and turned to look as Nick sat down. He handed him the water, his own hands trembling. Heath drained the glass and wiped his face with the towel. Nick saw the flushed face lighten and reached out to confirm his hunch.

"Your fever's broke, Boy! Will that make Mother happy! You get some sleep, you'll be better in the morning."

Heath pulled his legs in bed and drew the covers up. Turning on his side, he faced the empty chair. Nick sat for a minute, telling Heath about the trip home to Stockton and how much better they'd all be when they got there. He talked about Christmas, pausing every few minutes to check on the unblinking stare. Lowering his face inches from his brothers, Nick made a heartfelt plea.

"Heath, please, it's Nick. Don't you know me, Boy? Say something, blink, do anything! LOOK AT ME! PLEASE, HEATH!"

Nick covered his face with his good hand and sighed in despair. He felt the light touch on his cheek and looked down. It was then the blue eyes glanced up, full of hurt and welling with tears. Nick grabbed the hand and for a second thought all was well, then the blank stare returned.

He brushed his hand through the damp blond hair. "Where are you, Boy? My God, what hell are you lost in?" he wondered out loud.

He adjusted the covers and waited a moment before rising. He felt his wrist snagged by the lost soul.

"You want me to stay? Is that it, Heath?"

The unblinking eyes said nothing, but he saw the head nod and sat back down. Every so often, the eyes would open and check. Then a hand came out and Nick would place it back under the covers. He leaned down and used his last bit of hope, hoping the tone would lure his brother to sleep.

"You get to sleep. I'll be right here, I won't leave you. Nobody's gonna hurt you, Heath. Go on, shut them eyes."

Heath relaxed, knowing Jordy was near. Bear couldn't hurt him now. Nobody would hurt him as long as Jordy was by his side. He looked up a few times to reassure himself, but his friend stayed by him. One day, when they got out of here, he and Jordy were gonna get their own spread..maybe in Montana. Jordy said is was real nice there. His sleepy eyes looked at Jordy was once more, his hand reached up to touch him, just to make sure. The smile and confident voice made him strong as it always did. He closed his eyes, with Jordy's strong presence better than any lullaby.

Heath paused at the door, unsure of what to do. He didn't want to wake Jordy but he wanted to find that nice nurse. He looked down the hall of the army hospital. So many doors, which way to go? Hesitantly, he stepped out, grabbing the rail for support, his weak legs were wobbling.

Jarrod sat at the table near the window, watching the sunrise over the spectacular scenery. He picked up the copy of yesterday's Examiner Pierce had brought him from town. The headache prevented him from reading too much, but he scanned the headlines.

Heath saw the staircase and the lobby of the Army hospital. A large fireplace was lit and he heard voices down below. He was about to go downstairs, when the staircase got blurry. He shook his head, trying to clear it, but it didn't help. He saw an open door ahead and staggered towards it. He stopped in the doorway and felt his heart pounding. Major Harris was alive! He saw the large bandage and remembered the awful shot. Slowly he entered the room, trying not to fall. Jarrod folded the paper and placed it back on the table. He was about to reach for his robe, when he heard the uneven footsteps. Looking up, he saw Heath just a few feet away.

"Heath! What are you doing out of bed?"

He jumped up and caught the body as the legs were about to give out. Helping the dazed invalid to the chair next to him at the table, he sat down and closed his eyes. The sudden rush of activity was too much for his wounded head. Jarrod felt a hand on his face, touching the bandage. He opened his eyes and saw his brother's concerned gaze. His brother was very upset, but there was something else...

"I'm all right, Heath. By the looks of things, you're doing much better. Maybe tomorrow we'll be able to head home. Today's the twenty-first, Christmas is..."

His voice trailed off as Heath's hand fell and all expression on his face was erased. He stared past Jarrod, seeing nothing. Jarrod's mind was transported back in time to a hospital ward outside Washington D.C. at the end of the war. He helped organize the funding to assist the many wounded that were transported there for recovery. He'd seen this look all too often, but it was always someone else's tragedy. Now he knew what that pain was that he so often saw on the face of a mother, father or wife. There was no way to describe it. With a deep sigh, he rose and walked around the chair, he carefully knelt and took the hand.

"Heath, Can you hear me?"

He saw the head slowly turn, looking at him curiously. He repeated the question and saw a slight nod.

"Good. I want you to know I'll always be here for you, Brother. I'll use these hands to guide you and find you when you get lost. Mother, Audra and Nick will all help, too. You have a family that loves you very much and ...."

He dropped his head, unable to continue. As he composed himself, he felt the hand on the bandage again. He looked up and saw the light eyes pooling up. Heath seemed to be trying to say something and the fact he couldn't had him upset. Jarrod stood, took the hand and pulled Heath to his feet, embracing him.

"It's okay, Heath, I understand. I can hear you."

Heath exhaled, releasing the built up pressure. Major Harris was sure good at understanding him. He sat down and stared at the light snowflakes outside the hospital window. Major Harris was lucky to be going home. Why didn't Mama come? When could he go home? He so needed her now..her touch could heal him.

Jarrod sat on the bed across the room, unable to tear his tortured eyes from Heath's blank face. He glanced up when he felt pressure on the mattress. Nick looked awful, the circles under his eyes telling a familiar tale.

"Nightmares again?"

"Yeah. Listen, Jarrod, there's something wrong with Heath. He's like....his mind isn't...he's lost somewhere," Nick pained.

"I know, Nick, I've seen that look before, in the hospital outside D.C. at the end of the war. Soldiers with scars no one could see. A devastating tragedy, the pain of which I'm only understanding now."

Both brothers sat silent a moment, gazing at the lost member of the trio. His hand against the window, his eyes searching for something or someone known only to him.

"You know, Nick, I got a bad feeling that he's still back there."

"Well, we'll just have to figure some way of curing him. There must be something we can do. He can't stay like that." Nick waved his hand in emphasis.

"Five days," Jarrod said, almost in awe.

"Huh?"

"Five days, Nick. We were grown men and those five days in hell seemed endless. How much longer could you have survived?" his bright blue eyes tested.

"I dunno," Nick paused rubbing his weary eyes, "the physical pain was bad enough, but the mental stuff...that hopelessness..."

"He was a kid, Nick, not yet sixteen. How on earth did he last seven months? It's unfathomable to me. God knows what other horrors he suffered."

Nick was unable to answer. Jarrod's words hit him too hard. Suddenly he saw a thin boy in rags, starving, beaten and abused, curled up in a dank hole, rocking. He swallowed back the tide of emotion and walked across the room.

"Hey, what's the idea of sneaking out on me, Heath?" he joked.

Heath looked up at Jordy and looked away, sheepishly. He wanted to tell Jordy how glad he was that he was here with him. He thought for sure Jordy didn't make it.

"That's okay, Kid," Nick teased loudly, seeing the shy glance he got. " How about some breakfast? Come on, I'll get you back to your room before Mother gets there. She's gonna be real sore at you if..."

"You mean when I find out the two of you are out of bed. Heath Barkley you get right back..." Her voice stopped at the sight of Heath rocking at the table, staring into space.

Jarrod and Nick both tried to warn her. The 'Mother wait' came out in a chorus. Nick stopped her mid stride and pulled her close. She looked up at him confused at first, then over to Jarrod. She didn't like the looks that met her gray eyes. She pulled away despite his protest and stood beside her boy. Feeling his head, she smiled and turned.

"His fever's gone. We can leave tomorrow for Stockton. Oh, Honey, once you get home, I know you'll feel so much better. Heath? Heath it's Mother, look at me, Sweetheart."

She took the handsome face in both hands and turned it to face her. The eyes were vacant, dull and listless.

"Oh, My God!"

She dropped her hands and rocked back on her heels, Nick steadied her and led her over to the bed. Sitting between her two sons, she tried to hold it back. Squaring her shoulders, she denied the tears.

"Mother, I'm sorry, there's no easy way to get over this. It was just too much for him to live through twice," Jarrod said hugging the silk robed shoulders.

"Twice? Carterson? Is that where you think he is?"

"I don't know where he is, Mother, just that he's lost. But my guess would be," Jarrod pained, nodding at Heath, " that there is a fifteen year old boy trying to get home. I've seen this before in other veterans. It's heartbreaking."

"How can we help?"

"Professor Moreau will be coming to the house when we get home. He's worked with cases like this before. He may have some answers," Jarrod's voice trailed.

"But what?" Nick asked.

"But there aren't any definitive ways to deal with a problem like this. It's not something surgery or medicine can fix. It's ..."

"What, spit it out Jarrod," Nick said defensively.

"There's very little success. I'm so sorry, Mother."

"You're sorry!" Nick stood angry. "I'm not giving up on him. Don't you write him off yet. How dare you!" he seethed.

"Okay, Nick, you made your point. I was just telling you the facts."

"You want facts. The fact is," Nick strode over and rested his hand on Heath's shoulder, "that this is my brother. He's lost somewhere and needs us all to help him. That means no talk about low success rates. Not now, not ever."

The room was silent, save the crackling of the logs in the fire. Nick paced the room, finally seating himself where his mother patted the bed. She gripped both their hands and looked over at her blond son, another woman's birth child who'd captured her heart. Was he a lost boy looking for...suddenly, she knew for sure. She stood, tears streaming down her face and approached her wayward son. Jarrod and Nick walked along with her. He was looking out the window, searching, his hand pressed against the glass and a tear rolling down his cheek. They encircled him, both brothers taking a hand. She hugged him tightly, her face against his cheek, her tears mingled with his.

"I'm here, Son, and I love you," she choked.

He cocked his head and looked at her, for a moment she thought a flicker of light appeared in the empty eyes, but then it was gone. He leaned his palms on the window. It was then they heard the small, desolate voice make a heartbreaking plea. Staring blankly through the glass, he started to rock.

"Mama, Mama, why don't you come?"

Victoria buried her face in Jarrod's chest and sobbed. Nick stood behind and tried to reach his brother somehow.

"Heath, look at me, it's Nick. I'll help you... we can...." He swallowed hard as the vacant eyes looked right through him without recognition. He held onto Heath's shoulder, hoping that at least his brother would know someone was near by the touch.

It started as a hum, then a few words emerged, haltingly.

"Amazing Grace how sweet the sound..."

It died just as quickly. Heath turned and saw Jordy's mother crying. She was really upset. 'Did I do that?' he wondered. He reached out and brushed the tears away. He tried to tell her not to cry. His Mama would come soon. Victoria saw the hurt look in his eyes and felt the fingers erase her tears.

"Oh Heath!" She attempted to hug him, but felt him stiffen, his arms at his sides. She looked up and the face was blank again.

Jarrod nodded for Nick to take Heath back to his room, allowing Victoria time to compose herself.

"Come on, Boy, let's get something to eat."

Heath followed Nick out the door.

Dinner was quiet. The family ate at the large table, together for the first time since the brothers had left for the lodge. Audra and Jarrod tried unsuccessfully to change the somber mood. Jarrod looked at Nick and realized that his brother's steady conversation with Heath was a sign that maybe Nick hadn't accepted the fact that Heath's condition may be permanent. He had tried talking to Nick before Heath came down for dinner, but Nick just got angry and brushed him off. Heath ate well, never indicating he heard a word Nick said. However, Jarrod noticed that when Nick left to get coffee, Heath's eyes were glued to the doorway, watching for him to return. Sure enough once he saw Nick coming, his eyes followed the dark cowboy until he was seated. Nick spotted this and teased his blond brother.

Elsa and Max stopped over to wish the family well. Max said a wagon would take the family down to the train around seven a.m. Elsa would be over to make breakfast, so Victoria could get the family ready to go. Max shook each brother's hand and took Heath's as well. His booming voice startled the young man, but Heath didn't pull back.

It was late when Victoria made her way through the hall. She spotted a long figure by the fire, sipping a drink. Pulling her wrap closer, she descended the stairs quietly and took a seat next to the solitary man. They sat for a while in silence and then finally she spoke.

"Can't sleep?"

"Got a lot on my mind. I'll catch up on the train."

"You're still having nightmares, aren't you, Nick?"

He shifted, leaning forward and placing the glass of whiskey on the pine table. He felt her small hand on his back, a reassuring rub.

"What am I going to do, Mother?"

"What do mean, Honey?"

"I miss him. It's only been a few days, but...I don't know if I can be around him like that. God, Mother, it hurts..."

She watched him lower his head and rub his eyes.

"Nick, he's still your brother. I know it hurts, it's breaking my heart, too." She turned the pained face to meet her determined gray eyes. "You're already doing it. You show how much you care every time you're near him. He knows that, his eyes follow you wherever you go."

Nick stood and walked to the fire, his words came slowly.

"He was the perfect fit, you know? I had no idea how much a part of me he was until this week. Now there is a huge hole, I can't...."

Victoria covered the distance in a few steps. She took his hand and spoke firmly.

"Look, Son, I don't have the answer for you, only God does. Heath may come back to us but if he doesn't, you'll still love him and take care of him. That's what families do. They stand together in good times as well as bad. Nick, God gave you those wonderfully strong, broad shoulders for a reason. Heath needs to lean on them for a while."

He thought for a moment, nodding. Turning he grabbed the slim shoulders and kissed the top of the silver head.

"You know something? You sure are one amazing woman, Lady!"

The last good-byes had been said and the Barkley family made their way down to town to pick up the train. Victoria had arranged for their private car to be added to the stop in Stockton. Max's two sons, Jon and Peter, took care of the luggage and baskets of food for the journey. Audra sat next to Heath pointing to different things outside the window. Nick sat a few seats away, his long legs on the empty seat across from him. Victoria knew he'd sleep most of the day. She looked at Jarrod and didn't like the paleness of his face. Putting her sewing down, she walked over and sat next to him.

"You look awful. I'm glad I wired Dr. Merar to meet us at the train."

"I'm tempted to say, 'I'm fine Mother', but that wouldn't be true. I'm sure the good doctor has something strong that will ease this headache."

"Try to get some rest, it's a long trip." She settled in and kept an eye on him.

The clanking of the wheels slowed and the brakes screeched as the train eased it's way into the Stockton depot. The family readied themselves to detrain, except for Heath who had been staring silently out the window for most of the trip. Nick was the first to stand as the locomotive lurched to a halt. Swinging his long leg down from the seat in front of him, Victoria lightly slapped his knee with her hand.

"One of these days your going to rip that fabric with those spurs. Really, Nick! Did you need to wear them on the train?"

"Now, have my spurs ever caused any damage?" Nick defended. "Besides, I need 'em to help me keep my balance!"

He winked at his mother and stood, planting his hat firmly on his head.

"Audra, are you ready?" Victoria questioned her daughter who was nose deep in a good book.

"Yes, I'm coming, Mother." Audra set the book down and reached for her cloak.

"Nick, is Doctor Merar outside? He was supposed to meet the train."

"I'll go find him, Mother. Nick has to check in with the Station Master and get the bags loaded onto the wagon," Audra offered.

"All right, Dear." Victoria nodded as the two left, Audra helping her brother down, his lone arm making it difficult to jump off onto the platform.

"Mother, is there any more water?" Jarrod asked.

She looked over and was dismayed at how awful he looked. He couldn't hide the pain that showed clearly on the pale face. The normally bright eyes were dulled. He had one hand resting against his forehead and he was breathing funny.

"Jarrod? Are you going to be ill?"

"I don't know, Mother. Maybe some water...will help this nausea."

Both pitchers were empty. VIctoria picked one up and started for the door separating the cars, then thought about Heath. He was still staring out the window. Jarrod seemed to read her thoughts, or just maybe followed her line of vision.

"He'll be fine, Mother. Nick's just outside and Audra will be right back."

Jarrod heard the door click and settled back trying to fight the urge to be sick. Suddenly, it couldn't be contained any longer. Maybe he could make it to the backdoor. Standing, his stomach lurched as he dropped to his knees in front of a burlap bag that had held some food. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and stood on wobbly legs, trying to get to the nearest seat. The dancing black spots blocked his path. He cried out for help and the floor rose up to meet him.

Heath heard the cry and turned to see Major Harris fall. He dropped to his knees and turned the major over. He pulled at the jacket, and tapped the pale cheek, but the Major didn't respond. Help, he needed to get help. He saw a pink jacket that belonged to the nurse, he folded it and placed it under the Major's head. He looked around the empty car and back to his friend. The Major needed him, he would go get help.

"Dr. Merar?"

Howard Merar looked up from his desk and returned the greeting.

"Audra? What are you doing here?" He greeted the lovely girl.

"Didn't you get Mother's wire? You were supposed to meet us at the train."

"Yes, but the train isn't due for another hour. You must have skipped a stop. I'll get my bag."

"Jarrod looks awful. He took the last of his medicine this morning. "

"From what Dr. Marshall told me yesterday when he dropped your brother's case history off, Jarrod was lucky. It's sounds like a serious wound. How's Heath? Dr. Marshall said he's having some...mental problem?"

"It's so sad, Doctor. It's like he's trapped somewhere in time, caught between two worlds."

"Well, let's have a look, shall we?" He said holding the door for her.

Audra stepped in first and saw her Mother beside Jarrod, who was lying motionless on the floor."

"Mother, what happened?" she said dropping to Jarrod's side.

"I don't know, I just this minute got here. Oh, Howard, am I glad to see you." She got up and let the physician tend to her son.

Audra stood as well and trained her eyes. Something wasn't quite right. She looked around the car. Her heart hammered in her chest.

"HEATH! Where's Heath?" she cried.

"Heath's right here," Nick's voice boomed from the doorway.

"Heath! Don't you scare me like that again!" Audra chastised, hugging him.

"What happened to Jarrod?" Nick said, concerned.

"Jarrod would be fine if everyone backed off," The pale patient complained.

"What happened?" Victoria demanded, helping the Doctor ease Jarrod onto a seat.

"I fell very ill and tried to get to the back door. I didn't make it. I must have passed out."

"Why did Heath leave?" Audra wondered.

"He was trying to find me," Nick answered. "I looked up and there he was. I asked him if anything was wrong and he motioned for me to come inside."

"Well, now that you're all here, I want Howard to check you."

"Aw, Mother, for crying out loud..."

"NICK!" she lashed

"All right. Let's get it over with," he resigned.

Silas left the tea service on the marble table in front of the inviting fireplace. Professor Vincent Moreau warmed his hands by the fire and admired the fine house. Now in his early fifties, he'd spent most of his adult life lurking in the dark corners of the minds of tortured souls. An attractive man, the salt-and-peppered hair and mustache complemented the dark blue eyes set in the refined face. His work had taken him through Europe, teaching at some of the world's most renowned universities and working with people of every creed. Some were luckier than others and he took great satisfaction in the lives he'd saved. A delicate scent of lavender preceeded the hostess into the room. He turned as she offered a warm greeting.

"Professor Moreau, how good of you to come on such short notice. I'm Victoria Barkley." She extended the well manicured hand.

"An honor, Mrs. Barkley. Your husband was a great man. His generosity helped fund some wonderful programs at Berkley." He finished shaking the small hand and took a seat.

"It's Victoria, and thank you. My husband believed a great deal in education and community support. Please sit down. Tea?"

"Thank you."

He sipped the hot beverage and took a moment to compose his thoughts. Placing the delicate cup, full of pekoe and wearing rosebuds, on the table, he addressed the worried mother.

"I've had a chance to read the evaluation of the two physicians who attended your sons in Pine Meadows. I've also read the police report and have spoken with Pierce Summerfield. First, let me inquire, how was the journey back? How are they?"

"Well, if you've read the doctor's report, you know about their physical injuries. Nick seems to have sprung back the quickest, he's more restless than anything else. He's used to a very active day and this sitting and resting is irritating him. He is suffering from nightmares."

"A common occurrence, and the other two, Jarrod and ..."

"Heath. Jarrod suffered a minor relapse on the train as we pulled in. He became sick and then blacked out. It's a serious head wound and the doctor has ordered him to bed. The pain medicine is quite strong. I'm afraid he won't be of much use to you until later this evening."

"I'm at your service for whatever time is required. Jarrod is not only a former student, but friend as well. His rest is needed. And Heath?"

She sighed and her eyes held the same pain he'd seen in so many mother's eyes before. She tapped the silver spoon on the rim of the porcelain cup and decided to place the cup on the table.

"Heath is lost in time. Jarrod seems to think he's back in a postwar period just after his release from Carterson Prison. He was almost sixteen when the prison was liberated. He suffered extensive physical and mental torture there. But from what we know, he seemed to recover fairly well. Until a week and a half ago, when that mad escaped convict and the animals he hired, tortured Heath and his brothers. His lungs are still a little congested and he's still coughing quite a bit. Dr. Merar examined him on the train and said his throat is still a little inflamed and he's running a slight fever, but nothing to be alarmed at. Heath is resting. "

"Does he communicate with you at all?"

"Yes, and no. Not verbally, but he'll follow a request, if given. He appears to know he's safe. I don't know if he knows where he is, only Heath knows that."

"But he doesn't initiate any actions on his own?"

"No, that's not true. As a matter of fact, today when Jarrod collapsed, Heath was the only one with him and went off the train and into the station to get Nick."

"Hmm. Interesting. Is he combative or abusive?"

"No, he's rather docile. He seems to be looking for his mother."

"Well, I'll know more after I visit with your sons. Also, I read the background information I got from the Army office in Sacramento. It would seem a former commander of Heath's, a Major Daniel Harris, is located very near here, less than two hours away. I think he may help shed a little light on the missing pieces of Heath's internment. I plan on going out to visit him tomorrow morning."

"I'll go with you," a loud voice added.

Nick replaced the stopper in the whiskey decanter and took a slow walk to where the Professor and his mother sat. Taking a sip, he carefully set the glass on the table and sat down next to the educator.

"Nick Barkley, at your service," he said grasping the firm hand.

"I'm glad to see you doing so well. We have much to talk about. Is there somewhere we can go in private?"

"Yeah, the study, just across the way," Nick volunteered.

"Victoria, it was a pleasure. I'll be looking forward to seeing you at dinner."

"The pleasure was mine, Professor. Dinner will be at six."

"It's Vincent, and I thank you for you hospitality."

Nick stood and drained the liquor and started across the room. The Professor walked by him and across the foyer.

"Nick?"

"Yes, Mother?" he turned back and retraced his steps.

She stood and took his hand, then reached up and kissed his cheek.

"Now how did I get so lucky?"

"I've been lucky every day since you were born," she warmed, stroking his arm.

"Am I dismissed now?" he said, shifting uncomfortably.

"Not yet. I know how hard this has been on you and I want you to know how very proud I am of my son. You close those study doors, shut out the world and let that man help you. Curse, holler, rage, cry, do whatever it takes," she said, patting his vested chest, "to get that big heart of yours healed."

He embraced her without a word and after a moment, rubbed the silken back and departed.

Vincent knew exactly what Victoria Barkley meant when she said how hard the inactivity was on her son, Nick. He was constantly in motion. Pacing restlessly around the well furnished room. He spoke haltingly at first, and it was like pulling hairs. But over the last two hours, he'd loosened up quite a bit. Vincent encouraged him to get the pressure out, and the casted man did just that. Cursing at the demons who tortured him by night and lashing out against the brutal thugs who hurt his brothers, he raged.

Finally, he sat down and rubbed a weary hand across his eyes.

"I must say Nick, you certainly bite life head-on. A very healthy attitude, albeit a bit dangerous. You've accomplished a great deal. It often takes me several sessions to get to the angst and anger you displayed this afternoon. I think you'll find a more restful sleep tonight. I'd like to continue working with you, if that's acceptable."

"Yeah, I guess. I'll see how I feel tomorrow. The important thing is to help Heath."

"Yes, Heath needs all our help, but so do you and Jarrod. You both were traumatized and victimized by those men. Guilt is an awful albatross, Nick. You need to get it off your back."

Nick looked at the Professor hard and his eyes shifted. He licked his lips and started to get up, but then stopped.

"I can't talk about that yet. Maybe ...well, If it's okay with you, I have to go check in with my foreman. With me and Heath out, there's a lot of extra work for him."

"Okay Nick, we'll talk again. You did very well."

Nick got his coat from the rack near the front door and tried several times to put it on.

"Dammit!"

"Did that help?" Audra teased, grabbing the coat.

After easing into the warm, pile-lined coat, Nick pulled the collar up and scowled at his sister.

"I'd have figured it out sooner or later." He smacked her bottom. "But thanks, Little Sister."

As he walked across to the bunkhouse, he welcomed the brisk air. Was it his imagination, or did he feel lighter, even his ribs didn't seem to ache as much. Maybe there was something to this Professor after all. He'd agreed, not wanting to upset his mother any more. It could be this 'therapy stuff' was okay.

"Nick! Good to see you, Boy," Jake greeted.

The hands inside the large bunkhouse, erupted into applause. Nick scowled, of course.

"I don't recall paying you bums to sit around here catching flies. That work ain't gonna get done by itself. You better get movin' or I'll get Heath...," he halted and turned away.

Jake's nod dismissed the men with murmurs of "tell him we're asking for him, Nick" as they shuffled outside.

"How's the arm?"

"Okay. Itchy, actually," Nick said trying to work a finger under the plaster.

"How's your head?"

"Fine, I didn't hit my ...," Nick's wan smile appeared. "I'll be okay, Jake, once Jarrod and Heath are better. Now, how's the herd? Did that fencing come in? Did Hank get that branding done."

Jake laughed and got out the work schedule and requisitions for his boss to review. Nick saw the letters on the paper and nodded. He signed in all the right places, but his heart wasn't in it. Then he scolded himself internally. Here he was breaking his own rule. The boy will be fine, he'll come around.

Vincent continued to write notes as the quiet young man stared out the window. Although he offered no conversation, his eyes said much. The light blue eyes were very readable. Whatever terrible event caused this young man's withdrawal, he felt it was traced back to something in that prison.

"Heath, did you like living in Strawberry?"

Heath nodded without turning around.

"You love you mother and Hannah, they're fine women. They take good care of you."

Again the head nodded, but the hand flattened against the window. Vincent walked over to stand beside the blond man and saw the eyes anxious.

"Are you worried about you mother, Heath?"

The young man turned and looked at him, furrowing his brows. He stared at Vincent a minute then looked out past the front drive. This wasn't the direction he'd been following before. He'd been watching the men in the corral. Now he seemed to be searching.

"What about your Uncle Matt? Do you miss him?"

The eyes furied and the hand swept the fruit off the small wooden table. The fists clenched as the angry patient stalked the room. Shaking his head he pounded the walls, his breath coming in hard pants. This caused a coughing fit and Vincent led him back to the bed.

"It's okay, Heath. He's gone, he can't hurt you anymore. You were a good boy, Heath. You did nothing wrong."

Heath's hands shook as he accepted the water. Vincent would have to tread more carefully. He continued to take notes and heard the tap on the door.

"Okay if I come in?"

Vincent saw the anger dissolve off the troubled, flushed face and the eyes lighten. Heath's head turned and he walked across the room, just as the door opened.

"I hope you're enjoying this little vacation. I'm just letting all them fence posts wait for you. You have such a way with diggin' them holes," Nick teased.

Vincent watched for several minutes as Nick sat on the bed and filled Heath in on the activities they'd missed while they were away. It was hard to tell exactly what connection Heath made to Nick, but it was the strongest link he'd seen.

"Oh, Mother said dinner won't be for an hour if you want to rest, Professor."

"Thank you, Nick. I think I'll do just that."

He gathered his notes and put them inside a large leather valise. Walking over to Heath, he extended his hand.

"Thank you, Heath. You did quite well. I'm glad we got the chance to talk."

Heath returned the firm grasp and when the Professor turned to leave, he felt a tug at his sleeve. Turning, he saw Heath's eyes trying to convey something.

"Your welcome, Son. We'll talk again tomorrow," he smiled warmly.

"Here, Heath, time for you to chug on some of this stuff," Nick measured the medicine.

Heath backed away turning his head.

"Look, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Either way, it's goin' in you. I heard you hackin' all the way up the stairs."

Nick laughed at the awful face his brother made upon swallowing the bitter fluid.

"Ain't exactly like a brew at Harry's, is it?"

Nick watched from Heath's window as the last of the hands rode in. He waited until his brother was dozing and left to check on Jarrod.

Jarrod was still asleep, so Nick found his way back to his room. Glancing around the spacious bedroom as the shadows of the evening played tag on the walls, he wondered if this night he'd welcome a peaceful slumber or once again fight the terrors lurking in the shadows.

Breakfast was eaten in relative silence. Just one more day until Christmas Eve, usually a festive affair with the whole family in high spirits. There was so much to be thankful for, Victoria mused over her coffee. Her sons were alive and two were well on the road to recovery. She sighed and thought of her lost boy, Heath. Initially they thought coming home would heal the awful open wounds in his mind. Although Professor Moreau was hopeful, citing other veterans he'd worked with, Victoria's heart was heavy. He'd opened his eyes a week ago and her heart rejoiced, then sank quickly when the vacant eyes stared at her, unknowing. Mutely doing as ordered, lost in a world unknown.

"I'll take his tray up, Silas. Thank you," Victoria said.

The professor had eaten early and was spending some time with Heath before the departure for Yuba City, where Major Harris lived. He was hopeful that Heath's former commanding officer could fill in some of the missing pieces that might help Heath in his journey out of darkness. Nick was going with him, arguing with his mother that he 'can't just sit around all day in this house'. He wasn't ready to resume his ranch duties, and Jarrod felt that it would be good therapy for Nick to tag along. Rising from the table, she took the tray and was ready to exit the dining room when there was a loud rap on the front door.

"Who could be here at this hour?" Jarrod wondered, reading the time of seven a.m. on his watch.

"I'll get it, Mother," Audra offered.

Victoria set the tray down and was about to follow Audra into the foyer, when the voice stopped her.

"Good Morning, Mrs. Watson. You're up early."

"Good Morning, Audra. I'm here about the party tomorrow. Early bird gets the worm, you know."

"Let's go into the parlor and I'll get Mother," Audra charmed.

"Oh, no," Victoria loathed out loud. "Olivia Watson!"

Jarrod threw down his napkin and Nick paused over his platter, scowling. Olivia Watson was married to one of the most influential men in the Valley. They were well connected and she was very active in volunteer work. Not that she had a good heart, if there was one in her chest at all. She liked the attention and lived for the praise and seeing her name in print. She was a bigot of the worst kind and had made more that one unsavory remark about Heath.

"Who let her out of her cage?" Nick complained.

"The party? My God, with all that's gone on, I'd forgotten that the orphans will be here tomorrow afternoon," Victoria realized suddenly, wringing her hands.

"Maybe they could go somewhere else," Nick offered.

"No, it was very important to your father that the orphan's Christmas party be celebrated here on Christmas Eve. We started that tradition the year you were born, Nick. It must go on. We have the gifts, more than enough food and decorations," Victoria mused.

"Well, then, the problem is solved," Jarred rose and walked to her side.

"Yes, I suppose it will take a little doing, but...Oh no," she dismayed, shoulders slumping

"Oh no, what?" Jarred asked.

"Heath...the last two years he's been the one who gives the gifts and tells them stories. He sits in the middle of the floor; children on his lap, next to him, they are entranced. He often goes with Audra to the orphanage and they've become so attached to him. This does present a problem."

"I'll do it," Jarrod offered.

"Thanks, Dear, but you are going back to bed. You heard what Dr. Merar said yesterday. That blackout you had was because you're pushing too hard. A week in bed is what he said. I'll think of something. Let's go greet our guest"

"Good morning, Olivia," Victoria greeted as she entered the room.

"Victoria" the matron nodded.

"Mother, Mrs. Watson is here about the party. I told her two p.m. would be all right."

"Yes, I think that will do nicely, " the dowager added. "Of course, there is the matter of the gifts. I suppose a change is in order and high time. I know you've taken him in, but his type shouldn't be allowed to mix freely with small children."

Nick growled and Jarrod held him back, trying to quell his own anger as well.

"Mrs. Watson, that was uncalled for and under the circumstances very out of line. My brother's suffering is a tragic loss for all of us. Those children love Heath for the wonderful, warm human being and gentle soul that he is. You could learn a great deal from him," Jarrod's eyes blazed.

"The fact remains," she spat back, "that a change is in order."

"I'll do it," Nick said suddenly.

"YOU?" she repelled.

"Yeah, me. I won't be able to fill his shoes, but I'll do my damndest in his name," Nick said pulling her up with his good hand and ushering her to the door. "Now if you don't mind, we've got a lot to do. Good Day."

"Well, I never...," she huffed as she left.

"Lady, I think that's half your problem," Nick muttered, causing Jarrod to chuckle.

"Nick, are you sure," Victoria asked grabbing his hand.

"I said so, didn't I'?' he glared. "How hard can it be? Tell a couple of stories and give out some presents."

"I think you'll be great," Audra said kissing his cheek. "And thank you, Nick, I'm proud of you."

"Stop fussin', I gotta get goin', the professor is waitin'." He brushed her aside, then smiled and winked at her as he went upstairs.

"Nick playing Santa Claus? Christmas may never be the same," Jarrod teased.

Nick tapped on Heath's door and waited for a reply. Hearing the Professor's okay, he entered and greeted his younger brother enthusiastically.

"Mornin' Heath! You're not giving the good professor here any trouble are you?"

He patted the tan shirt his brother wore and looked over his shoulder to the Professor, who nodded as if to say it was a good session. Rising, he took Heath's hand and waited for the blue eyes to rise.

"Thank you, Heath, I enjoyed our visit. I'll be back this afternoon and we'll talk again, all right?"

Heath stared for several seconds and nodded. Victoria entered and placed Heath's tray in front of him. She sat down and poured herself a cup of coffee, as he began to eat.

"See ya later, Heath. You make sure you don't let Audra boss you around all day."

The journey to Yuba City didn't take but an hour and a half. Nick listened as the professor talked at great length about some clues he'd already gathered from his sessions with the quiet Barkley.

"He has very readable eyes. Certain words, people's names and places triggered an emotional, angry or sad reaction. This will help me to uncover what is causing the block."

"What can you do to get through to him? How can you make him understand?"

"I'm afraid there are no easy answers to that, Nick, I'm a pioneer in this field and don't have the support of my colleagues. I've worked with hundreds of men like your brother...scarred by a terrible or traumatic event. Some are totally non-responsive, there's little hope for recovery. But your brother is fighting...fighting hard. He follows directives, is aware of his surroundings and has strong emotional ties to those near him. I strongly believe he'll make a recovery of some sort."

"What do mean 'of some sort'?" Nick challenged.

"There is too much unknown about the brain and how it works. I can't promise you what I don't have. I hope Major Harris can fill in some of the missing gaps. I have a feeling something happened at Carterson that so traumatized your brother. At fifteen he was not able to accept it and so he buried it deeply. That is what we have to unlock."

"You know," Nick pondered, "it's one thing to read about places like Andersonville and Carterson. But to see first hand the lasting effect it had on kids like Heath... well, it's a real eye-opener. I had nightmares for a while when I came home, but tame stuff compared to what he went through. If it wasn't for Jarrod..."

"Jarrod?"

"Yeah, he served in Washington for most of the war, out of college and bound for law school. He was home for a while before going to Berkley, he saw me through many nights. I'd wake up and he'd be right there. I got real mad at first. Me, Nick Barkley, having nightmares...like a little kid. I denied his help, but he wouldn't give up. He stood toe to toe with me and once I started talking about them, they started going away. Kinda like what you said yesterday when we talked."

"Yes, Nick, your brother and visionaries like him are too few and far between. You're very lucky to have had him to help you. I've seen what can happen to young men, like yourself, who were unwilling to accept help and kept turning the nightmares into fits of rage and anger...some turned to drugs. Such a tragedy."

"He's one of a kind. As much as we butt heads over stuff and don't see eye to eye...well I don't see how I'd get along without him."

They pulled up to a small cottage with a picket fence around it. A middle aged woman, whose beauty had been marred by the burden of caring for an invalid all these years, greeted them.

"Good Morning. You must be Professor Moreau and ...," she paused looking at Nick.

"Uh, Nick Barkley, Ma'am, pleased to meet you." He shook the friendly woman's hand.

"I'm Sally Harris. Please come in. Dan just finished his breakfast. He'll be right with you. Please help yourself to coffee and sweet rolls. I made them fresh this morning."

"Thank you," Nick said and took a seat in the small parlor.

A few minutes later, the bedroom door opened. The former commanding officer made his way across the room in a wheelchair. His bearing and features, although gaunt, still showed signs of the handsome Army major whose courage and leadership were well known. He shook both their hands and the three settled in. The professor took out a notebook, and Nick's impatience made itself known.

"I want to thank you, Major, for taking time to see us. We are ...my family and I, that is... are heartsick about Heath. The professor says that you knew my brother in the war?"

"That I did, Nick, and please, call me Dan. Heath, like so many of his young counterparts, were boys who wearing a man's uniform. He was only thirteen when he was assigned to my division," his features crinkled into a smile as he remembered the angry boy. "He told me he was sixteen, I can still see those defiant blue eyes... anyhow, he was small for his age and kept to himself. He was a good soldier...listened well...never disobeyed. I'd say he was a pretty brave lad, never flinched in the eye of the storm. He was the youngest in our outfit and we all became very protective of him, which gave him fits," he laughed.

Nick smiled, seeing the picture very clearly, those same defiant blue eyes and stubbornness he knew so well in a youthful Heath.

"You were with him straight through to Carterson?" the professor asked

"Yes, two years and a few months into the campaign. Those seven months, a living hell..." His voice broke off. "To survive battle and die like so many of those men did, in agony...a horrid thing..tortured daily, beatings, malnourished." Nick shifted uncomfortably as the Major's eyes welled up.

"Uh...listen, if you're not up to this... I mean I don't want to stir up bad memories," Nick stumbled.

"Thank you, Nick, but I'm all right. My wife, now there is someone who deserves a medal. For years I'd wake up, screaming, she never once lost patience. She just soothed and spoke of her love to me. I'd be dead without her. I'm sorry. Where were we? Oh yes, young Heath. Heath and a boy named Tyler were a favorite target of a sadistic guard named Bear and his grunt, a fellow prisoner named Skinner. Both were among the youngest prisoners and very sick...too weak to fight off their brutality. They saw right away that Jordy, I forgot to mention him earlier, was their protector...strong, fierce, a real warrior, he was. They put him in a cell block far away. We planned an escape and it would have worked, but Tyler caught the fever and became delirious. They took him away and we never saw him again. They used him cruelly...tortured him ....left him to die..." The major turned away, to compose himself.

Nick drew a deep breath and glanced over at the Professor who was taking notes. Watching him, Nick realized how much internal fortitude the educated man must have. For all these years, to listen to hundreds of stories like this and not have your guts torn up, like Nick's were...well, it sure said something. He looked back as the Major continued.

"I'm sorry, it still gets to me after all these years. Let me back up a minute and tell you about Jordy. Jordan Isaiah Douglas, the only son of a preacher, named for the River Jordan. He was eighteen or so when he was assigned to our outfit. I don't think I ever met anyone braver. Full of vinegar and fire, he was, cocky and smart-mouthed." He smiled, remembering the brash soldier. "He was every commander's dream...a real leader. He took to Heath like a bee to honey. He was good for Heath...gave him confidence and brought him out a little. Well, after Tyler died, Jordy made Bear's life hell. He rallied the prisoners against the guards, thwarting them at every turn. His zest and firey speeches rallied the men. 'Don't let them break you,' he'd cry. Well, it didn't take long for Bear and the others to find out that Jody's Achilles heel was Heath. They moved Jordy to the cell across from Heath and tied him up, making him watch them brutalize your brother. Heath's eyes never left Jordy. No matter what they did, they couldn't break him. Their plan was falling apart. The prisoners were gaining confidence and there were several escapes. So ...," his voice broke and he looked at Nick whose face was dark and stormy.

"I'm sorry you have to hear this son, but if it helps your brother..."

"Finish it," Nick clenched.

"They abused him, severely, every way imaginable. It nearly killed Jordy. He lost his voice screaming at them, but still, Heath wouldn't break. He rarely cried out, just stared them down with those icy eyes. We had another escape planned, but Jordy wouldn't leave without Heath. I was too sick, the beatings took my legs away.... anyway, I told him I'd stay with Heath and for him to go...gain his freedom. But he wouldn't leave. Jordy raised a ruckus that night, screaming, throwing a fit, took on half a dozen guards. That chaos, gave those five men who escaped from our block the time they needed to get away. Heath..." He stopped remembering the horrible moment. "Heath knew Jordy stayed behind on account of him, and they beat Jordy to death right in front him. They left him there, staring at Heath with an awful deathmask..."

He wheeled himself across the room and buried his face sobbing. Nick swallowed the pain back and walked across the room, squeezing the Major's shoulders. He opened his mouth twice, but no words would come. Finally, he was able to speak.

"You have no idea how very much I admire you, Sir. Not only for what you did for Heath, but for all the men lucky enough to serve with you. I only wish I could've had that honor."

Nick saw the shoulders square back and the Major sat tall again. He took Nick's hand and grasped it firmly. Nodding his appreciation. Nick motioned to the Professor that he was going out.

Nick waited outside, composing himself. It was worse than he imagined. How could anyone overcome such a horrible thing? Heath was just a kid...to be tortured, and worse... But the Professor was right, they had the key, now they had to find the lock and turn it. Heath was still harboring guilt over Jordy's death...blaming himself. Too young at fifteen to understand...now old enough, and it was choking him. He watched the sun high in the sky on this bright December day and got a feeling, maybe something good was going to happen. He looked up at the clouds and sent a thanks to Jordy for taking care of his little brother so well. Maybe Jordy was still looking out for him. Maybe he could help. Nick turned as the door opened and the Professor exited.

The Major sat in his wheeled, wooden prison in the doorway. Nick paused at the end of the gate and turned back. He threw his shoulders back and saluted. Major Harris returned the salute with a proud smile.

They rode in silence for a while, and then the Professor pulled over. He didn't know why Nick had requested that they take a horse with them, but this was the spot they'd part ways...for the day anyway.

"It's seems excruciating, but it's necessary. What your brother is going through now, the Major went through years ago."

Nick's head swiveled and had the Professor's full attention.

"Yes, according to the records I have from the Army, when they liberated that God-awful place, he was catatonic. It took months, but with the help of his wife ... prodding him, talking to him constantly...little by little, he came back mentally. So, you see, all is not lost. We know one of the reasons Heath is lost...the main reason, perhaps. Guilt for his friend's death."

"Jordy. He..uh...called me that," Nick said flatly.

"When?"

"The night after we were rescued. I found him in the corner of his room. He thought the guards were coming. He said. 'Jordy, help' and looked right at me."

"Hmm...association, is a very common thing in cases like this. You are not unlike Jordy to him in many ways. Your personality is very similar, as are your protective instincts. It may be that the reason he's responding is because Jordy is alive."

"But what's gonna happen when he finds out I'm not Jordy. Won't that be worse?"

"No, it's all part of the healing process. In order for him to heal of that awful festering wound left open all these years, he has to realize that and accept it. He has a fine family to support him. That's half the battle. From what I've heard, he has great internal strength as well."

"You can say that again. I knew early on that he had guts, but what I know now ... well he sure stands tall in my eyes."

"Just what do you hope to find on your trip this afternoon, Nick?"

"Well, I'm not sure. But ...I need to know ... see ... where he lived as a kid... Maybe get an idea of how he grew."

"Does this have to do with the whipping?"

Nick didn't answer, his face did that for him. The Professor patted his back and wished him well. He climbed down and mounted the horse. He turned as Nick took the reins to the buggy.

"Nick, good luck. I think you need this as much as your brother. You have to heal too, Son, don't lose sight of that. Talking is great therapy. You remember that."

"Despite what Jarrod may have told you, I ain't so stubborn...sometimes," he smiled and urged the team onward.

It was early afternoon when Nick approached the desolate town of Strawberry. Higher in elevation, a previous snowfall had melted and turned the streets to mud. Nick carefully maneuvered the buggy up to the saloon located in the center of town. Business there wasn't exactly booming, but judging from the smoke pouring out of the rusted stove pipe that peeked out over the roof, someone was there waiting for a customer.

"Afternoon!" came the cheerful voice from behind the counter. "What can I git fer ya, Mister?"

"Nothin' to drink...at least not now," Nick wagered, laying a crisp ten dollar bill on the counter. "But what you can give me is some information."

"Well, Sir, you've come to the right place. There ain't a thing that goes on in this here town that I don't know about," the garrulous bartender replied. "You just go ahead and ask old Dub yer question, and I'll do my derndest to find ya an answer!"

"You been around here a long time?" Nick questioned.

"You mean have I lived here? Mister, you're lookin' at one of the foundin' fathers that started this here town. Course I was a lot younger then. Boy, I tell you. Those were the days. Big old spittoons over yonder on that end, faro tables over here, a shiny new scale here on the counter for weighing all the..."

"Mister," Nick interrupted the talkative stranger, "that's all well and good, but that ain't the kind of information I'm after today."

"Oh...uh, I'm sorry. What is it that you'd like to know?"

"Actually I'm wondering if you recall a young boy who lived here about ten to twenty years ago. He grew up here. His name was Heath Bar...Thomson. Do you recall such a boy?"

"Ah, yes! I most certainly do! What a hard workin' boy he was. Used to help haul the ice and wood shavin' for the floor. We used shavin's back then. The rains would come and things would get really muddy and..."

"About the boy. What else can you tell me?"

"Well," the old codger recollected, stroking his chin, "like I already said. He was a go-getter, that one. Always lookin' fer a way to turn over a dollar or two. He was the only child of a sickly woman. Things were mighty hard on them back then. The boy had to go to work on accounta helpin' out his sick Ma and all. His aunt and uncle ran the hotel across the street, but they weren't much good when the stakes were down. No, Sir. An awful big weight fer a boy that young to be packin' around on those small shoulders of his."

"You knew his Uncle Matt?" Nick jumped.

"Yeah, sure did, and what a scoundrel that man was, too. Used to beat the boy black and blue...that is when he wasn't in here gettin' so liquored up that he couldn't find his way back across the street."

"You mean you knew what was going on and did nothin' to stop it?" Nick raged.

"Now, hold on just a moment there, Young Feller," the old bartender defended. "This here was a gold minin' town. People pretty much made their own rules and the sheriff had all he could handle just keepin' the claim jumpers and gunfighters in line. If a man thought it was fit to learn a young 'un some manners and discipline, that was his business and nobody else's."

"I still don't understand why in blazes nobody reported this to the sheriff?" Nick thundered, pounding on the bar with his good hand. "My God, he was abusin' the boy!"

"Take it easy, Son. You're just not understandin' how things were back then. The sheriff, the mayor, the dog catcher...nobody helped that poor woman out, nobody. Most folks figured she had what was comin' to her and all." He backed up slightly, as he saw the fire blazing in Nick's eyes. "Besides, like I already done told ya...it wasn't nobody's place to go steppin' in on a situation like that. After all, he was the boy's uncle."

"Well, it wouldn't have hurt you to try and play the part of the Good Samaritan once in a while," Nick huffed. "Now, I'd like for you to tell me what house Heath and his mother lived in."

"Oh, they lived in a small cabin on the edge of town. You probably passed it when you rode in," the bartender offered, placing his hand on the ten dollar bill still lying on the counter.

"You'll do better than that," Nick leveled, his fist anchoring his bargaining power to the counter. "You're gonna walk out here with me and point me in the right direction."

"Anything you say, Mister," the jovial man agreed.

Nick released his hold on the bill and the bartender quickly stashed the tender in his vest pocket before walking around the counter and through the swinging, wooden doors.

"Like I said," he offered, pointing towards the direction of the cabin. "Just head back through town the way you came and it's right there on the outskirts. A little log cabin with a green, shingled roof. More 'an likely will have smoke comin' outta the chimney."

"Someone livin' there?" Nick questioned.

"Just old Hannah. She and Leah lived there alone after the boy run off to join the Army. After Leah's death, Hannah stayed on."

"Yeah, I do recall my brother making mention of Hannah."

"Your brother?"

"Yeah, my brother!" Nick stated firmly. "And they don't come any finer. Good day to you."

Nick ignored the bartender's puzzled look and turned towards his buggy before the elderly man could start in with another round of comments or questions. Carefully making his way back through town, Nick drove up to the wooden cabin that had to be Heath's childhood home. Taking a deep breath, he raised his right hand and knocked loudly on the painted, pine door. A petite, frail, black woman answered, squinting at him through suspicious dark eyes.

"You must be Hannah," he managed, extending his arm. "I'm Nick...Nick Barkley."

"Barkley. You ain't one of dem Barkley's from down in the valley, are you?"

"That I am," Nick ventured, pulling back his unaccepted hand. "May I come in?"

"Is it Heath you're here to ask about?" the woman ventured.

"Yes, Ma'am. Heath's my brother. Would you be willing to tell me about him?"

"What're ya askin' me fer? Did somethin' happen to Heath? You tell me if Heath's okay!"

"He's fine, Ma'am. He's back at the house. I just wanted to come up here and see where he lived as a boy, is all. May I come in."

"Heath's fine! That's all dat matters! Yes, I reckon you might as well come in. You just come sit down and let Hannah fix you something hot."

"Thank you, Hannah."

Nick entered the humble threshold and took the chair offered him while Hannah busied herself ladling a bowl of soup from a pot that simmered on the cast iron cook stove. She sliced some fresh, homemade bread and set the warm food on the table before Nick. Nick thanked her and reached for the spoon, but stopped short when he saw her bow her head and mumble a word of thanks. Reverently, he sat silently, head bowed, but keeping an uncomfortable watch for the signal to begin eating. When she had finished, he cautiously reached again for the spoon. Yes, Nick Barkley was definitely out of his comfort zone with this meek mannered little woman. A woman who had known and helped raise his brother, Nick had already placed her on the highest pedestal.

She seemed nervous and hard to read. Nick wasn't sure exactly how to make conversation with this woman. She was flighty and didn't quite seem to be all there, but she was solid in her faith...he could tell that just from a quick glance around the cabin. Carefully, he chose his words. She had seemed friendly enough, but he didn't want to muddy the waters. It was obvious that she still wasn't sure just how much she could trust him.

Finesse was a word often foreign to Nick, except occasionally when he was attempting to impress an attractive woman. Nonetheless, he patiently overcame the urge to charge ahead with his questions, and little by little he could tell that this timid woman was becoming more and more open and willing to trust. Within an hour or so, he had learned much about his younger brother. Now that he had won her confidence, the self-effacing woman practically chattered nonstop.

"Tell me, Hannah," Nick finally mused. "Do you have any old keepsakes of Heath's layin' around that you could show me. Maybe an old toy or piece of clothin' or somethin'?"

"Anything personal of Heath's or his Mama's would be in dat der trunk, Mr. Barkley. Go ahead and take a look if dat's what'd please ya."

"I'd like that very much, Hannah, thank you," Nick responded as he eased himself away from the table and made his way over to the time-worn trunk.

The hinges creaked as Nick lifted the lid to expose the contents within. The dust and musty smell gave him the sense of 'years gone by'. Picking his way through the assortment of broken nik-naks, old photographs, and letters, a feeling of sentiment fell upon the dark cowboy. In a way, he felt as though he were journeying back through time. He could, in a way, sense the love and respect that Heath and his mother had felt for one another. Picking up an old slingshot, he held it out to Hannah.

"This must've belonged to my brother."

"Oh, yes," Hannah reminisced. "I remember the day he made that. Oh, was he proud. Whittled it himself out've a forked tree branch. He was only six, but Lord only knows the time he spent makin' dat. When he brought it over to the house to show Rachel and me, I thought his button's would nearly bust."

Nick fingered the wooden marvel thoughtfully and continued his quest. An old photograph taken of Heath and his mother, a glass stopper and hand-crocheted shawl.

"What's this?" Nick asked holding up the stopper.

"Oh, dat Heath. He come across dat one day when he was makin' his rounds behind the saloon. His Mama nearly had a fit. Just five years ol' and hangin' around the place where drunks and sinners go." A small smile flitted across Hannah's face as she continued to recount the event. "She let him keep it, though. A glass stopper off one of those fancy bottles of brandy, a piece of string, a homemade slingshot ... those where the only kinda toys dat boy had."

Nick dug a little further, and this time withdrew some chipped and broken nativity figures, still bonded together with yellowed glue. He remembered the story his younger brother had shared that first Christmas up at the lodge. The handmade, wooden stable, the ceramic figures, reconstructed and repaired....

"Hannah!" Nick exclaimed. "I would like to buy these. What kind've price would you take?"

"Lordy, Mr. Barkley. What would a man like you be wantin' with a broken down ol' nativity like dat? I'm sure you could get a much nicer one at one of dem fancy stores you have down in the valley."

"Well, you see, Hannah, it ain't for me. I want to give it to Heath...you know, as a Christmas present. I can remember him tellin' me about the time he made this for his mother, and well, I just think it would be real special to him if he had it back."

She looked at the face of this man who was the brother of 'her Heath'. Looking hard into his eyes, she could see the pride he held, casting his eyes upon the ceramic figures and the wooden manger. Yes, her boy had found his way home. This man and that nice Mrs. Barkley seemed to be taking good care of him. She reached out with her weathered, brown hand and turned his face up by the chin.

"Dem eyes of yours...dey be sayin' a whole lot, Mr. Barkley. I ain't got long 'til the good Lord calls me home. You take good care of dat boy, you hear. I knows you care for him. Sure enough, he's got people now. People dat loves 'im. Dat's what's important."

Nick stood and smiled. "He surely is important to me and my family," he said, squeezing the fragile hand. "Don't you worry, we'll take good care of him." His gaze fell back onto the box of 'treasures'.

"All right, den! If you think he'd like to have dat, you take it to 'im! You hear me, Mr. Barkley!"

"I'll do it, Hannah, but I don't want it to break. Do you have somethin' we can wrap it in for the trip back?" Nick requested. "And I'm probably goin' to need some help," he grinned pointing to his cloth sling.

"Just don't you go worryin' yourself, Mr. Barkley. Hannah will get it fixed up just fine!"

Hannah scurried off and returned with a crate and some old newspapers. Working together, Nick handed her each item individually, as she lovingly wrapped and packed them. It was dark by the time Nick had his precious cargo loaded into the buggy. Hannah wanted him to stay and spend the night, but the moon was bright and he still had the starring role at the orphan's Christmas party to look forward to. Thanking Hannah for her hospitality, Nick settled himself in the seat of the buggy and began the long trip back towards Stockton. The stars twinkled like gems in a treasure box, and a certain one seemed to sparkle exceptionally bright. Nick continued his voyage, feeling for the first time since the ordeal a presence of peace, joy and contentment. He could hardly wait for Christmas morning when he would present Heath with this gift of love, coming straight from his heart.

It was near midnight when Nick arrived back at the ranch. He stabled the horse and crept quietly into the darkened house. He was looking forward to cuddling up to that fat goosefeather pillow that waited like a luscious wench in his bed, and getting a good night's sleep. He wanted to be well rested for his debut as Santa. He climbed the elegant staircase, and noticed the vast amount of festive greens his mother and sister had laid out. He washed up in the bathroom and opened the door, nearly running down his startled brother.

"Good evening to you, Brother Nick," Jarrod whispered, feeling full of the Christmas spirit. "We were just talking about you!"

"Who's we?" Nick grumbled.

"Heath and I," Jarrod paused, placing a steadying hand on the sink. "Rather I was reminiscing and Heath was a good audience."

"He's in your room?"

"Yes, he wandered in just after ten p.m. Go on in for a minute, then it's lights out. Don't want you nodding off during your debut, Santa," Jarrod teased.

Nick wandered into Jarrod's room and saw the back of Heath's head visible above the hunter green Queen Anne chair near the fireplace in the large room. He knew by the angle of the head, his brother was sleeping. With a cautious glance doen the hall, he crept to Jarrod's bookcase and moved four books from the top shelf. Smiling, he drew down the elegant bottle. They didn't come any finer than this...imported, aged and smooth as silk. He uncorked the bottle and inhaled the wonderful aroma. The loud cough nearly sent the precious liquid to the floor, as Nick jumped.

"What's the matter with you?" Nick ran to the door and peeked into the hall. "You nearly got me caught."

Heath looked perplexed at the bottle and looked around the empty room. The Major must have left while he was asleep. He saw Jordy dancing around like he was walking on coals. His brow crossed as his friend sat next to him on the arm of the vast chair. He pulled at Jordy's sleeve, looking at the bottle. It was the same one that Jordy had been saving for a special occassion...the one that Major Harris had tried to expropriate.

"Oh, would you cut it out," Nick said pulling his confiscated booty away, "He ain't gonna miss a little. It's his own fault for hoardin' it. When did you start wearing bloomers?"

Nick took a healthy swig and enjoyed every bit of it. "Ah, really hits the spot!" he relished.

"Caught you redhanded!"

The thunderous voice sent the startled thief off his perch and onto the floor. Heath grabbed the bottle and handed it to Jarrod.

"Turncoat!" Nick scowled at the blond.

"Looks like you've been enjoying yourself while I was gone!" Jarrod remarked as he held up the almost empty bottle, swishing the contents against the light.

"By the low line in that bottle, I'd say you'd been nippin' at it yourself," Nick added, rising to his feet.

"Why do you think I was in such a good mood on the way up to the lodge," the lawyer teased. "That wasn't water that I had in my canteen!"

"Jarrod! Don't tell me you were holding out on us!"

"It was my plan to share with you all along, My Dear Brother. I just never had the opportunity, is all. Anyway, this is what is left, and it's all yours...unless you think that Heath might like a shot."

The two looked over at their youngest brother who was seemingly lost in thought. His gaze was set on Major Harris, Jordy and the bottle. Deep in thought, he was remembering a Christmas so long ago.

"Heath! Where are you, Boy?" Nick's voice boomed as he stood before his brother with the bottle. "You look lost to the world!"

Heath looked up and smiled at his buddy, Jordy. They had been through so much together, and now here it was another Christmas, and once again, it was Jordy taking charge of refreshments. He saw the glass and smile Major Harris held for him. Heath reached out and accepted the glass. It was good to be with friends, but his heart longed for home and for her.

Victora set the kettle of water on to boil and pulled the flannel robe tighter. The cold wind was her only company on this eve of Christmas. Sitting down at the cozy table, she opened the black leather journal and began her thirty-third entry. Where had the years gone? She had started this book on the first dawn of the eve of Christmas, just a few months after she'd married her Tom. She got a tingle as she remembered how warm he made the cold cabin seem. Cuddled up under that old quilt, lost in each other, they didn't realize they were poor or cold. They had each other and their love to keep them warm. She awoke that morning and found the book on the bed next to her.

She turned to the yellowed interior cover of the book and traced her fingers on the faded writing. 'So that the wondrous joy of this day will always shine in your eyes, Love Tom'. It had been her most joyous Christmas despite the harsh weather, root stew and the tiny shack, for it was that night when her first child had been conceived.

She spent several minutes reminiscing, as she read the entries, two pages each, over the last thirty-three years. Births, deaths, family thoughts, ten year old Jarrod's holiday greeting with six year old Nick's crooked name...so many memories. She continued to read with the bitter sweet memories of years gone by...the news of the day, what Santa had brought, the awful war years and when they had worried so. She smiled at the entry three years back. Heath's first Christmas...how she had hoped that the love she cast on Tom's angry, lost child would erase the hurt he felt allowing the warmth of this new family in. Turning the page, she smiled at the entry for the following year. How Tom's laughter echoed in the parlor under the mistletoe, ringing from his youngest son's heart. She didn't feel the tear that rolled down her face.

"Miz Barkley! This water done boiled all away. Didn't you hear it?" Silas asked.

"I'm sorry, Silas. I was visiting with Mr. Barkley for a few minutes."

"You go on back to bed, now, it's early yet. I'll get breakfast started. That Professor fella is leaving early. I best get his tray up to him. He wants to talk to Mr. Heath again before he leaves for the train this morning. Nice that his sister and her people live in San Francisco. Good for folks to be with family this time of year, even if he is only leaving for a few days. Go on now, I'll bring your tea up for you."

"Thank you, Silas, I think I will," she said, hugging the misty-memories.

Christmas Eve morning, and the house bustled with activity. Breakfast was finished and the Professor had left to catch his train. While Nick and Victoria went up to the attic to resurrect the old Santa costume, Audra took Heath by the arm and led him into the den where she had several boxes stacked.

"I'll be needing your help this morning," she chirped. "I've got to get all these stockings ready for the party this afternoon. Would you care to help?"

Heath nodded and allowed himself to be ushered over to the small sofa next to the boxes. Audra knelt down next to him and handed him a red and white felt stocking with a name embroidered on the front.

"This is Johnny's stocking," she instructed, "and here's the candy and marbles and things. I tell you what. You go ahead and fill the stockings for the boys, and I'll work on the ones for the girls. Just be sure to put an even amount in each stocking," she smiled. "The last thing we need is for the children to start arguing over who got more. Do you think you can do that?"

Dutifully concentrating on his work, Heath carefully divided out the treasures. Candy, marbles and toy soldiers...so many things that would make any little boy just burst his buttons with glee.

"Oh, I just love Christmas...don't you?" Audra prattled as the two worked side by side. "I remember when I was a little girl...it was always a new doll that I wanted from Santa. Nick always asked for guns and stuff for his horse and Jarrod wanted books. What types of things did you ask for, Heath?"

She stopped and looked up into the distant blue eyes, searching for some spark of memory. He paused for a moment and looked at her with sorrowful eyes. Audra detected the pain reflected there as her words played back, searing deep into her soul. Standing and sitting down on the sofa next to him, she wrapped her arms around her brother and hugged him tight.

"I'm sorry, Heath," she whispered. "That was thoughtless of me...but you're home now, and we all love you very much. You'll never have to spend Christmas alone again."

Spend Christmas alone? Mama had always been there. These people were all very nice, but she was the one he longed to be with. Reaching up, he stroked Audra's flaxen hair and resumed his task of filling the stockings. Somehow he would find her. Somehow, on this Christmas, the two of them would be together again.

Jarrod woke up to the sounds of many little feet on the floor downstairs. This was followed by a chorus of tiny voices and one loud one booming "HO HO HO!" He smiled at Nick's rendition of the time-tested greeting and put his slippers and robe on. Padding down the hall, he stopped briefly to watch Nick maneuvering in the sea of small bodies. Turning the knob to Heath's door, his joy at the scene below died. Heath sat by the window, staring at the wall.

"Hello, Heath. I'm going down to get something to eat. I'll stop back up. I'm sure you're hungry."

Heath nodded and started to stand. Jarrod firmly sat him back down.

"That's okay, Heath, you stay here. It's kind of noisy downstairs, the orphans are here for the party. I'll be right back with a big piece of pie for you."

Heath nodded and watched Major Harris leave. It was a nice house and Jordy's family sure were good people. Major Harris visited here a lot. He wanted to go home, and hoped that he'd be well enough soon. The doctor sure came a lot. Despite the fact he felt better, the terrible pain in his heart wouldn't leave. An unbearable sorrow left him unable to speak. He tried, no one knows how hard he tried. Heath stared out the window at the murky gray sky which mirrored the world he was lost in.

"What happened then, Mr. Nick?" the little girl named Anna pleaded from Nick's lap.

"Well, just when that mean old wolf thought he'd gotten away with takin' the children's toys, Santa saved the day."

"How?" a seven-year old freckled-face boy named Bobby asked.

"Well," Nick said putting the tiny girl down and standing up, "He said 'HO HO HO! Mr. Wolf, those toys don't belong to you.' Then the wolf turned, baring his teeth and..."

"And then what!" several voices clamored.

"Then Santa walked right up to that wolf and shook his paw, asked if he could be his friend. Turns out the wolf had no friends and Santa was the first person who tried to get to know him."

"So the wolf gave the toys back?" Anna asked, pulling on Nick's pants.

"He sure did, Honey, and loaded them right onto Santa's sleigh. Then Santa climbed up and took the reins and started to leave for his big night," Nick embellished. "He said, 'Ho ho'...hold it right there, Jarrod, I got plans for that pie. I was savin' it for later!" Nick hollered, scattering a pack of giggling childen as he approached his brother who was headed towards the stairs.

Jarrod had stopped in the doorway of the parlor and enjoyed every minute of Nick's performance. Whether he'd ever admit it, Nick was enjoying himself, too. His mother and sister were in the kitchen getting the food ready. Turning, he defended his stance.

"Sorry, Saint Nick, you're out of luck. And you can't 'save' a piece of pie. It's against the First Order of Leftovers."

"What First Order of Leftovers?" Nick asked suspiciously, his face screwed up.

"The one I just invented," Jarrod smiled. "Besides, it's not mine, it's Heath's."

"Oh, well, okay, then. Tell him I'll be right up," Nick mused.

The sudden ceasing of activity and deathly silence caused both brothers to turn towards the parlor in unison. There behind them, by the French doors, stood Heath, staring transfixed at the tree.

"What's he doing loose?" Olivia Watson cried indignantly. "He shouldn't be running around in public. Please put him back where he belongs," she loathed at the brothers.

Jarrod couldn't hold Nick back this time. His brothers' eyes were hot and he didn't control the rage in his voice as he pulled her into the foyer away from the children's listening range.

"I've had all I am going to take from you and that filthy mouth of yours. That," he emphasized pointing to Heath, "is my brother, Heath. I realize that something like caring and compassion are lost on the likes of you; he's got more integrity in his little finger than you'll see in a lifetime. This is HIS home where HE belongs. You live with it and keep that mouth of yours shut or you leave, NOW. Do I make myself clear?"

She pulled her arm free and huffed her displeasure but nodded. Nick left her and approached Heath. The children had been told only that Heath had been hurt and couldn't talk. Most of them seemed a little frightened, sensing something was very wrong. However, one boy, who had become especially attached to Heath, came forward.

"Hello, Mr. Heath, it's me, Danny White. You remember me, don't ya?" the dark eyed, solemn boy asked.

Nick started to approach the boy, but Jarrod pulled him back, motioning with his head at Heath's face. Heath looked down at the little boy who called to him. He knew this boy, but from where? He felt somehow this boy had suffered and those dark eyes reached out to him. Squatting, he touched the boy's cheek and nodded.

"Boy, am I glad! I knew you'd never forget me, Mr. Heath. You and me are best buddies, remember? Like when I first came to the orphanage and the big bully was picking on me cause I stuttered. You worked with me and I stood up to him finally. You told me how proud you were. You were the first real friend I ever had. I've come a long way since then, Mr. Heath. I'm getting a new Mama and Papa today. Ain't that great?" the boy said excitedly.

Heath knelt and took the small shoulders, nodding again, stone faced.

"So, I was thinkin'. Since Miss Audra said you got hurt and can't talk...well, maybe you'd like to have this."

Heath looked down and saw the small bear the boy offered. He took the woolen animal and studied it, his head cocked.

"'Member that, Mr. Heath? You gave that to me, right after we met. I couldn't talk at all then, on account've I stuttered so much and all the other kids laughed. You told me when I was alone, to talk to him; he'd never laugh. It worked, I don't stutter no more. So you keep him, Mr. Heath, he listens real good. You'll be talkin' real soon, okay?"

Jarrod wiped his moist eyes and turned as his mother approached, tears on her cheeks. He turned back and saw Heath hugging the boy, eyes closed and then the solitary tear that snaked it's way down his cheek. Then as he released him, Danny kissed his cheek and Heath smiled at him.

"Out of the mouths of babes," Nick choked.

"Indeed, Nick. It's a very good sign. Maybe he's taken a big step on the road to recovery," Jarrod hoped.

Audra gathered the children in a circle and organized a game to keep them occupied while Nick and Jarrod got Heath on his feet. Clutching the small bear, he followed them down the hall into the kitchen. He sat at the table, cradling the bear and nodded at Jarrod's request.

"You hungry, Heath? How about a sandwich?"

While Jarrod got a sandwich from the tray his mother had prepared, he watched as Heath's eyes followed Nick around the kitchen. Nick paused, carefully pouring a cup of coffee and saw the emotional look on Heath's face. Forgetting the cup, he crossed the room and knelt by the chair. His hopes soared when his brother's free hand made it's way to Nick's shoulder, the blue eyes paining on the casted arm.

"What is it? Come on, Boy, talk to me," Nick pleaded, his hand on Heath's cheek.

Heath looked at Jordy and desperately wanted to say how sorry he was for the mess he'd caused. He hadn't intended on upsetting their family party, but he wanted to see the tree. Missing his home, he had wanted to go home for Christmas. He tried to tell Jordy, but no words would come. He held the bear close and retreated, seeking comfort elsewhere.

But just as quickly, the light faded and once more the stone face returned. The hand dropped down and Heath was gone once more. Nick turned away, not wanting Heath to see his disappointment. Jarrod patted Nick's shoulder and put the plate in front of Heath.

"Go on now, Heath, eat up."

Heath went through the mechanics of eating and then walked up the back stairs without glancing back. Jarrod turned back at the curse and fist pounding the table, causing the silverware to jump up in protest.

"Take it easy, Nick, it's a step in the right direction. We can't force him back. That's the first sign he's fighting."

"I know, but ...it's killing me, Jarrod. What if he never comes back?" Nick emoted.

Jarrod couldn't see Nick's face, but knew the sorrow it held. This seemed to be harder on Nick than any of them. Jarrod knew Nick was punishing himself unduly, blaming himself for Heath getting caught.

"Come on, Nick, your audience awaits you," Jarrod tried.

"I'll be right in, I need a....a...coffee," Nick lied.

"You got it, Brother," Jarrod patted his back understanding and retreated.

Nick regained his composure and straightening up, reentered the parlor area.

"Santa's back!" many little voices exclaimed with glee.

Nick forced a smile and responded to the children's welcome with his best "Ho, Ho." But underneath the red and white hat and the thick white whiskers, Audra couldn't help notice the dismal spirit trying so hard to keep from surfacing. He'd been through so much, but the lost relationship with his beloved brother was the worst than the hell he had survived. Audra thought hard, wondering what she might do that could lighten the spirit. With an impish grin, she beckoned the children to gather round her.

"Now, I've got a Santa story," she volunteered. "A Santa story that involves Mr. Nick, here, when he was a little boy. Would you like me to tell it to you?"

"Yes, yes, please, Miss Audra!" the children chorused.

Audra winked at Nick as his befuddled expression told her that he wasn't sure of what was next.

"When I was a little girl," Audra slowly began, "it was my job to leave the cookies for Santa. You know how cold it is and how hard Santa has to work delivering all those nice toys you receive on Christmas morning!" The children nodded in agreement as Audra continued. "Well, when we were growing up, it was up to me to decide which cookies were going to be left for Santa and his reindeer. That and a big glass of milk was just what Santa would need to get him to the next ranch. Mother and I had been baking cookies all afternoon and I had wanted the ones for Santa to be extra special."

At this particular part in the story, a loud moan was distinctly audible and Audra glanced up at Nick to catch the dramatic roll of the eyes she knew was coming. The little eyes of her young audience were all glued forward in sincere fascination as Audra continued to remember that special Christmas so long ago.

"Up in my room I had a nice sized bar of chocolate that I had been saving. The mercantile in town had been short on chocolate that year, and this bar that I had purchased earlier in summer was a treat to be treasured. Nick knew about the chocolate and he had been trying to get me to give him some. I told him 'no' that I wanted to save it. He begged and he begged, but I just wouldn't give in."

Giggles filled the room as the children envisioned this grown cowboy trying to persuade his little sister to share her chocolate.

"Well, Mother and I were almost done with our baking when I had an idea. I had been thinking about how bored Santa must be with all the cookies everyone leaves him and maybe this year he would like a rich, chocolate cake. Mother agreed to help me and so I ran to my room to retrieve the bar of chocolate. Nick hovered over us the entire time. He even pretended to want to help, but when Mother saw his hand reaching for the candy, she whacked him with her wooden spoon."

"Did he get any of it?" Tommy asked, looking at Audra and then at Nick.

"I'm getting to that, Tommy," Audra savored, enjoying each word of the tale. "No, I managed to get a beautiful chocolate cake baked. Thick and gooey with rich chocolate frosting. I proudly displayed the cake on one of Mother's nicest platters and poured a tall glass of ice cold milk to go with it. I carried the cake out to the tree, with Nick following, and went to bed, dreaming of all the wonderful presents I was going to get. Father had sent Nick to bed, as well, and then he, Mother and Jarrod all turned in.

Suddenly, I was awakened by a loud clatter coming from the parlor which aroused all of us from our sleep. We all got up and raced to the top of the stairs and what do you think we saw?"

"Santa?"

"We saw Santa, alright," Audra grinned, looking directly at Nick.

The small heads turned to look at the blushing Santa that stood in their midst.

"You mean it was Mr. Nick?" Sally asked.

"That's exactly what I mean!" Audra exclaimed, bursting into giggles and a bright smile. "He had sneaked downstairs and carefully cut the center out of the cake I had worked so hard to bake. Then he pushed the ends together and tried to smooth out the frosting on the top. He was trying to sneak back upstairs when he tripped over the lampstand and broke the lamp. There he sat in the middle of all that broken glass with the telltale signs of chocolate crumbs gracing his guilty face."

"Did Santa leave him any presents," Mary wondered. "I don't think Santa leaves things for naughty boys."

"Well, since Nick hadn't been really, really naughty, Santa did leave him his gifts," Audra paused, looking back at Nick who was violently shaking his head, wanting the story to stop right there. "...But, the next day, Santa made a personal appointment with Nick...the meeting place was out in the wood shed."

By the time the story was finished, everyone was laughing, even Nick, as he reminised the year he got spanked by Santa. Nick caught his golden-haired sister by the door and squeezed her shoulder and pulled on her red velvet sleeve, pretending to shake it.

"You got any more of my secrets hidden in there?" he teased, mocking indignation.

"Nick, there isn't enough room up my sleeve to house all your dark secrets!" she retorted.

"Thanks Audra, you got great timing." He hugged her and they rejoined the festivities in the dining room.

"Are you okay?" Victoria asked, worried at Jarrod's pinched features and pale face.

"The headache's just a little fiesty today. I'm fine Mother."

"Well, maybe I ought to get Doctor..."

"On Christmas morning? Mother, he has a family, too. I'll be fine. That aspirin powder will kick in soon."

"Mother, the buggy's ready," Nick popped his head into the parlor.

"All right, Nick. I'll be right out."

"We'll be fine, Mother," Jarrod reassured her, indicating Heath as well.

Kissing him good-bye, she took Nick's good arm and they left for Christmas services at church. Jarrod closed his eyes, warding off the pounded between his temples. He'd been weaning himself off the pain killers and for some reason, early mornings were still very painful. He didn't realize he'd been dozing until Silas shook him.

"Mr. Jarrod, wake up. I can't find Mr. Heath."

"What!" Jarrod was awake instantly and on his feet.

"He ain't in his room. I looked everywhere. His coat's missing."

"Oh No!" Jarrod fretted, eyeing the nasty gray sky that had just opened up, spilling sheets of rain.

"I'll go out and find him."

"But you're not supposed to be..."

"It's okay, Silas, I'll be fine. You look upstairs again, maybe you missed something."

Heath patted the mane of the horse from Jordy's stable. He loved horses and he made sure he was very careful saddling this fine bay. He had just awoken from a dream and had heard the bells ringing. Still vividly etched in his mind, they seemed to call him. That's where his Mama would be, she'd be waiting for him at church. He'd stopped to tell Major Harris, but didn't want to wake him. He'd go on his own.

He followed the pealing bells and soon was at the church. He looked up through the cold drizzle at the bell tower, where the bells pealed so wonderfully. He tied up the horse and entered.

Jarrod noticed Charger's empty stall and followed the fresh tracks in the mud. He lost them on the main road and decided to go to church and find Nick. The sheriff would be at the service, as well. They'd need his help finding Heath in his state of mind in a snowstorm. Pulling his collar closer, he hurried Jingo onward.

The church was dressed in all her finery, resplendent in greens, and the lighted candles gave it a warm, rosy glow. Victoria knelt and said a prayer for her lost son, asking God for a little help. The organ sounded as the choir sang "O Holy Night."

Heath stood unsure in the doorway of the church. He cocked his head and heard the beautiful voices. He stood in the back and listened, enjoying the feeling inside. He saw the candles and the crowded church pews. The preacher nodded to the choir as they finished and then started to speak. Heath saw Jordy and his family up front. He was about to make his way there, when he saw her. His heart pounded so hard, it felt like it would come right through his chest. He staggered up the side aisle, unnoticed and knelt before her. His face basking in her glorious glow.

Jarrod spotted Heath's horse tied out front and nearly fell off his own horse in relief. Hurrying to the door, he entered and scanned the crowd. He found his family, but Heath wasn't with them. It was then he noticed the back of the blond head. Not wanting to draw attention, he crept up the side aisle and stood next to his brother. He was about to shake Heath and call his name when he saw the look of unbridled love and emotion on the windburned face. His curious gaze followed Heath's emotive line of vision. It was Mary Heath knelt before. She was with Joseph looking down at the infant Jesus in the large manger that sat by the side door. It was a gift from Padre Carlos, who was a very close friend of the minister.

Heath looked at her face and smiled broadly, reaching out toward her hands. He knew she'd be here, the bells were a sign that she was calling to him. She always found him when he was lost. She'd help him get home. His mother smiled at him and he felt the warmth of her breath as she touched his face.

Jarrod knew something was happening inside Heath. He watched in awe at the glow on Heath's face as he touched the outstretched hand of the Madonna. He heard the sounds buried in his brother's chest fighting to come forth. He watched the mouth struggling and the tears in the overcome eyes. Jarrod sensed that he was about to witness a miracle.

The preacher nodded to the choir to sing the recessional hymn.

"Amazing Grace! How sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me.

I once was lost but now am found,

Was blind but now I see.

Twas grace that taught my heart to fear

And grace my fears relieved.

How precious did that grace appear

The hour I first believed."

The choir stopped so the organ music could be heard doing a refrain.

Heath felt her hands pull away, and the joy on her face reflected on his own. He closed his eyes and felt her warmth invade him. Basking in her love, his eyes shone as he thanked her silently. "I understand, Mama" he conveyed through his thoughts. Opening his eyes, she nodded her encouragement, and was gone.

Waiting patiently, every head in the room turned as a voice was heard.

"Through many dangers, toils and snares, I have already come...

"My God that's Heath!" Nick cried, racing to where Jarrod knelt in stunned silence next to the soloist.

"Tis grace that..." Heath slowed and looked around, confusion on his handsome face. Not understanding where he was and why Jarrod was staring at him, overcome with emotion.

"...hath brought me safe thus far," Nick saved, his deep voice booming, as he pulled Heath to his feet

"And grace will lead me home!" Jarrod joined in, finishing the miraculous chorus.

"Heath! Heath!" they called, hugging him.

He looked from one to the other.

"Jarrod? Nick? How'd we get here?"

"On the wings of a dove, Brother," Jarrod tendered, ruffling the damp blond hair.

"Heath, oh Heath," Audra sobbed into the confused man's chest.

She stood back and closed her eyes, sending God a special thank you. On this day of all days, there was something for which to truly rejoice. The most wonderful sound filled her ears.

"Mother?" his soft drawl called her.

She ran into his open arms and sobbed, "Oh Heath, Thank God, you've come back to us."

"I was just thinking that myself," Nick added, encircling his family.

"I don't understand? What happened? When did we leave the lodge? How did you bust your arm?" he implored of Nick.

Nick and Jarrod shared a wary look and Nick just shook his head. Before he could respond, the congregation rejoiced as well. They'd all known about Heath's loss and a few claps slowly turned into a thunderous ovation. They'd come that morning to celebrate the birth of the greatest King the world had ever known. They left doubly blessed; witnessing the awesome power of His divine love as it pierced the lost heart of one of His beloved sons and drew him home.

Heath helped Nick get Jarrod into the buggy and climbed in next to him. Nick told the Reverend that he'd have someone come from the ranch to pick up the horses left by his brothers, as neither was in any condition to ride. Jarrod was on the verge of passing out, having staggered and gone to his knees on the short walk to the buggy. The trip to town in the cold had left Heath fatigued. The weakened lungs were still a couple of weeks away from recovery. He attempted to mount Charger, but a dizzy spell and coughing fit found him strong-armed by his mother and brother, right into the buggy. He shivered and felt the welcoming warm woolen blanket and put an arm around Audra.

"Didn't think you had any tears left," he teased, brushing her cheek.

"I can always find one for you, Heath," she smiled and snuggled into his shoulder.

The whirlwind of activity at the church and Jarrod's collapse had left little time for discussions, but so many questions plagued Heath. Nick had only said that Rizley had hired some goons to jump the brothers and that they were held captive in a mountain cabin. He saw the look Jarrod and Nick exchanged when he asked for details...they were hiding something. He started to ask Nick, who was sitting up front driving, but he was so tired. He would just rest and talk to the one armed cowboy when they got home.

It was late afternoon when Nick's weary body made it's way upstairs. He had tried catch a nap before dinner, he had needed the sleep. The hours between dusk and dawn had become a burden. Endless nightmares, waking in a cold sweat, sometimes curled on the floor, restling with a pillow. He paused at his door and walked to the end of the hall. Glancing at Jarrod's door, he was relieved to see a light shining from underneath. Tapping lightly, he called quietly.

"Jarrod, are you awake?"

"Yeah, Nick, come on in," a tired voice replied.

Nick padded to the bed and sat down. Jarrod's face bore the same fear Nick's did. His brother cast him a wan smile.

"You're fighting it too?" Jarrod asked.

"Yeah, it's much better since I've been talking to Professor Moreau. I owe you big time for bringing him here," Nick lauded gently.

"No thanks necessary for that, Nick, we've all benefited from his help."

Jarrod got up from the chair near the fireplace and made his way across the room. He sat down next to his restless brother and waited. Something else was weighing on his troubled brother's mind.

"Spit it out, Nick, what's eating away at you?"

"Anybody ever tell you to consider entering the field of law?" Nick teased at Jarrod's ability to read him.

Sighing, he rose and walked to the window, paced across to the fire and then back to Jarrods side. Jarrod watched the journey and pulled Nick back down.

"Come, Nick, it can't be that bad. What's wrong?"

"I asked him, Jarrod, I had to know. He's been out like a light since we left church. He managed to stumble in the door, but conked out on the sofa. He woke up a little while ago and he, uh...he don't remember anything."

"About the confinement?" Jarrod queried.

"Confinement? That's a damn lousy way of putting it!" Nick flashed.

"All right, Nick, you know what I meant. What about Heath's recollections"

"He's got none, can't remember any of it. He was pleading with me to tell him. I couldn't do it, it was hard enough lookin' at them eyes of his. I managed to sidestep his questions until he nodded off again. He told me the last thing he remembers is me giving him that spiked coffee, then being in church by that manger."

They sat in silence for a moment, Jarrod kept glancing at his younger brother. He saw the shadows of doubt and guilt cross Nick's face. He knew before Nick said a word, and he was about to address it when Nick spoke in a low, agonized voice.

"What am I going to do if he remembers, Jarrod. My God, I took that whip..." Nick ate the rest of the thought.

Jarrod saw the terrible pain in Nick's eyes. What to do indeed. Maybe it would be better for Heath to know it all up front, before he started getting nightmares or flashbacks.

"Maybe we should tell him everything, Nick, before he remembers it on his own. He'll think we were hiding the truth from him. He won't like it. It might be a lot worse, do more damage."

"Yeah, that's what I think. I was wondering if you'd help me. I ...I don't know how to find the words. What can I say?" Nick tortured. "Heath, I beat you raw with a whip," or, "Heath, I left them open scars on your back, or..."

"Nick, stop it!" Jarrod urged, squeezing the downcast shoulders. "You're not the only one carrying a cross. I still see that pained look on his face when they shut that iron door. He pleaded with me..." His voice trailed off momentarily. "We'll ask Vincent what to do, he's the pro," Jarrod said of the Professor.

Nick rubbed a hand across his burning eyes and nodded. He waited a couple minutes, then made his way to the door. Pausing, he looked back at Jarrod and smiled.

"You know something? I think God sent the right one first. You sure are one helluva big brother. Thanks, Jarrod."

Jarrod nodded, "Goodnight, Nick, we'll get through this, like we always have: together-forever, right?"

"Right," Nick smiled, remembering their boyhood pledge.

The fire blazed, basking the room in warmth, although the love that radiated from each face, was doing that pretty well on it's own. Heath sat by the base of the tree Max had sent down, still wearing the scarf he'd tied to it. He heard Victoria and Aura's voices by the piano, and smiled at the wonderful feeling he held...like every color of the rainbow was ready to burst forth, in a colorful concert of love. He turned at Jarrod's voice and the hand on his shoulder.

"Looks like Nick and me owe you some money, Brother Heath, you won the bet."

"Don't go giving away my hard earned cash, Jarrod. Some of us really work for a living," Nick joked. "Besides, my bet was double or nothing, and since them fine women at the lodge missed out on the chance of a lifetime by not gracing the dance floor with me, the bet is still on. I'll pick up my cash next year, okay Little Brother?" Nick's good hand extended.

"Anytime you want to give your greenbacks away, Nick, I'll be first in line. You got a deal," Heath agreed as he shook on it.

"What's that?" Jarrod squatted down and pulled out a gift that hadn't been unwrapped. The others were all oohed and ahhed over and piled neatly under the tree. Jarrod lifted the red flannel-draped package and placed it on the small marble table in front of the tree, right beside Heath. The lawyer lifted the fabric off to uncover a manger, mounted on a wooden base. There were new pieces of wood where the old ones had rotted and the porcelain figures had been cleaned up. Jarrod would have known this tender gift anywhere. He massaged Heath's quaking shoulders, he blue eyes pierced Nick's hazel ones with affection.

"It would appear this fine gift belongs to you, Heath."

Heath's hands shook as he ran them along the wooden roof. He fingered the new straw, freshly laid under the holy family. The figures had been cleaned up, their chipped faces repaired with great care and affection. He hadn't seen it since the year he left to go to war. He thought it was lost forever. This wonderful childhood memento, something that meant more to him that any words would be able to describe. A treasure, created out of love and more valuable that all the gold in the world. He dropped his head in his hands and tried to compose himself, but a couple of stray tears worked their way loose.

Audra knelt beside her stunned brother, whose shoulders shook and whose tears splashed onto the roof of the nativity. She picked up each piece reverently and finally lifted the astonished face. Her manicured finger wiped the tears away and she kissed his cheek. Wrapping her arms around his waist, his soft voice beckoned.

"Can you tell us about it, Heath?"

With a deep breath he started, slow and halting, stumbling at times, to tell this family, who meant so very much to him, about his best Christmas.

It was an especially hard year, there was no money and his mother had been so very ill. Long hours in the mines and extra time at the livery, the boy worked feverishly to get the meager pennies saved for her gift. His mother never said a word, but the ten-year old boy knew from the look in her eye while they paged through an old catalog, that she wanted a nativity set. He had saved what pennies he could for most of the year and tried to buy her one. The cost was much more than the meager amount he offered. The store manager found Heath that Christmas week and told him there was a broken set that he'd sell. The greedy merchant took every cent from the poor boy. There were only four figures that were able to be saved, Joseph, Mary, the infant and a little shepherd boy holding a lamb. They were cracked and broken, but the ten-year old boy used great care to mend the pieces. Heath got scraps of wood from the livery and set about to make a proper manger. His small fingers using gobs of glue to keep the uneven, unmatched wood in place.

Nick, sitting across from Heath, got as angry as he had the first time Heath told him this story, his first year at the lodge. The deep seated anger at this unknown stranger who'd taken advantage of his brother. Heath had seen that dark look and smiled at his brother gratefully that night, over a beer. "It's okay, Nick, it was a long time ago, and I was used to being treated like that." It wasn't okay in his brother's eyes then or now. He swirled his brandy and scowled at someone who'd take advantage of the brave little boy he was so proud to call 'brother'.

He drifted back as Heath's quiet voice continued the story of that magical year.

"She was so sick that year, I almost lost her. The money ran out before we could get more medicine. Reckon I never prayed so hard." He remembered "She pulled through and on Christmas morning I put it beside her bed, so that she would see it first thing when she woke up. I tried sitting up, staying awake, but I must have dozed off. Next thing I remembered was waking up to her crying. I looked over..." Heath swallowed hard and fought off tears, remembering. "She was holding the baby Jesus and sobbing. I thought she was mad, that she wanted the one in the book. I started to tell her I was sorry and she shook her head. She pulled me close and told me..." His voice broke and he was unable to continue.

Victoria walked over, tears running freely and lifted the face. Heath smiled up at his mother whose face masked the identical look of pride and love his mama wore that fateful Christmas.

"How much she loved you and how very proud she was to have such a fine son. That this nativity is the most beautiful one she'd ever seen?" Victoria's broken voice completed.

"How'd you know?" Heath choked in amazement with wide, wet eyes.

She knelt and drew him close, hugging him tightly. "Every mother knows, Honey. I know just how she felt. I love you, Heath Thomson Barkley."

She remained a minute longer, and then taking Audra's hand, she left him with his memories.

The story of that magical Christmas was now complete, and caressing the little figure in his hand, he rose. He crossed the room and stared into the fire, sending a silent prayer and message to his mother. Turning back he knelt reverently in front of the holy family. With one last thought of his mama's smile, he finally put the shepherd boy back into the manger. The tears he held in check would no longer be denied. They ran down his cheeks as he looked at the treasure. He fingered the repair work, eyed the fresh straw under the figures and turned at the small hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see his mother's eyes brimming as well. Standing, he hugged the small frame close and kissed the top of her head.

"Thank you, Mother. You have no idea what this means to me. It's the finest gift I could have received."

She looked up and took the tear-streaked cheeks in either hand. How wonderful it was to see the light of life back in those wonderfully expressive blue eyes. God had given her son back, a priceless gift.

"Heath, the gift of life is the greatest gift we get from God. Tonight in that church, God gave us a miracle, and that," she paused, her voice breaking, "is the most wonderful gift of all."

She looked past him at the crooked wooden manger with globs of old glue still scarring the frame, and the cracked porcelain pieces within, with the love and appreciation only a mother can know. She could see a small, towheaded boy, blue eyes lit up in anticipation as his mother opened this wonderful treasure. The love that boy possessed still shone strong in the man before her. Looking back at him, she squeezed his shoulder.

"Sweetheart, as much as I would love to take credit for bringing that beautiful manger back to you and letting it shine here for all of us, as it should, it wasn't me."

Heath looked around the room to Audra first, who shook her head, then to Jarrod who also denied being the gift bearer. Nick continued to stare into the fire, poking at it with his good hand. Heath smiled at the uncomfortable look, all too familiar, that his older brother was wearing.

"I guess this proves that there really is a Santa Claus," Jarrod added, and realizing that Heath wanted a moment alone with Nick, he took Audra's and Victoria's elbow. "And if he were here, I think he'd say 'Let's eat'."

The trio started for the dining room. Heath walked over and laid a hand on Nick's back, squeezing his shoulder. They stood for a minute, lost in thought, Heath tried to find the right words to tell Nick just how much it meant to him. That Nick would, despite his own healing process, take the time to remember the story shared long ago and make the trip to Strawberry to find the missing piece of Heath's heart. He sighed several times, his mouth forming invisible words.

"Nick, can you do me a favor?" he managed with a crooked grin.

Nick met his grateful eyes and nodded, a little confused, "sure, Heath."

Heath turned and led them towards the dining room. Pausing and looking back at the manger, he made his request known.

"Can you tell Old Saint Nick 'Thanks' for me? It seems he's about the best man I know. With everything else he had to do, he found time to get them reindeers over to Strawberry and..." He swallowed and sighed, "...I hope he knows I'll never forget it and how much he means to me."

Nick laughed and ruffled the blond hair. "He knows, Brother, believe me, he knows. Come on, I'm starved and Jarrod's in there polishing off that roast."

"Goodnight, Son, don't stay up too long." Victoria spoke softly, placing a kiss on Jarrod's left cheek.

Taking a sip of brandy, he watched her cross the room and pause behind the chair where Heath sat by the fire. She bent down and whispered in his ear. Heath squeezed the small hand and nodded as she walked away. Audra had gone to bed already and Nick slipped out to the barn to check on a sick mare. The crackling of the fire was the only sound in the parlor as each man was lost in thought.

A burst of cold air filled the room as the French doors opened and Nick reappeared. He struggled out of his coat, careful of the casted arm resting in a sling.

"How's Sheba?" Heath asked.

"She's better. I got Russ to sit with her," he said of a new hand, "I'll check on her later."

He picked up a glass and laid it inside his sling. Carefully carrying the brandy decanter over, he placed it in front of Jarrod and sat down next to him. Pulling the glass out of his sling, he offered it.

"Thanks, Jarrod, I do believe I will join you," Nick invited.

Jarrod's eyes took in Nick's battered face, which matched both his and Heath's. He filled both glasses and motioned for Heath to join them. Heath carefully walked over and winced slightly as he eased himself onto the small bench by where his brothers sat. Jarrod thought on the past week's events and felt for the first time he really understood the meaning of the spirit of Christmas. Those dark hours in that desolate confine, he thought he'd never see his family again. Something very spiritual happened this day and Jarrod wanted to celebrate that fact.

"Ya know, considering everything that happened," Nick reasoned, "I believe this has turned out to be a very special Christmas."

"Nick, you read my mind," Jarrod raised his glass and waited until his brothers followed suit, "Gentlemen, here's to the reason for the season."

The clink of the glasses and the crackling of the fire were the only sounds as the men savored the toast. Jarrod watched Heath studying the glass he rolled between his hands. He watched the expressive sky blue eyes drift left and right as Heath relived some moments from the past. How many more painful memories hid within his brother's fragile soul? He thought of those dark hours, when he lay curled in a ball in that dank, cold cell, near naked, shivering and in pain, thinking Heath and Nick were lost to him forever. Having no sense of time, it may have been days, or weeks in his mind. The feeling of murderous rage at his tormentors, thinking they'd killed those he held dear.

Nick watched the contrite blue eyes next to him and knew what Jarrod was thinking. Before he could react, his oldest brother spoke.

"Heath, those horrid days last week made me see a lot of things a little clearer. I want to say how sorry I am about that episode with Matt Bentell." Jarrod paused as Heath's head flew up and his brother scowled.

"Jarrod, please don't go there, it's done. You don't owe me anything."

"Yes, Heath, I do," Jarrod's blue eyes reached out. "I mishandled that badly. My first concern should have been for you and the pain you suffered. I never realized just how much more of a man you are than I until last week. I was wrong, Heath, and I am very sorry."

"You ain't alone in that boat, Brother," Nick added "I should have spoken up that d ay, instead of holding my tongue, you deserved my full support, and for that Heath, I 'm sorry."

Heath looked at Jarrod's bruises and bandaged head, then his eyes took in Nick's abrasions and broken bones. Such good men, strong men whose broad shoulders he was so grateful for. Shoulders that were too often unappreciated. He nodded, his expressive blue eyes were followed by a thankful voice.

"Reckon I'm sorry, too. For not learning sooner that I have two fine men I call 'brother' and for being too proud to know when to lean on them. A lesson I learned the hard way. So, thanks to both of you," he finished raising his glass.

"To brotherhood."

"Here! Here!" his brothers echoed.

"Heath, you know if you ever want to talk about the war or anything else that you've buried too deep, that's all a part of being a brother...and a friend. We'll be here to listen," Jarrod ended.

"You don't have to suffer in silence, Boy," Nick supported.

Heath nodded and thought for a moment of a hero long gone but not forgotten. Raising his glass, he offered a toast.

"To Jordy." He swallowed the brandy after the clink of the glasses.

"He was the real deal, Heath. You sure were lucky to know him," Nick complemented.

"I wish ...well he sure was something. You should have seen him, you'd swear there was lightning bolts in his hands. He...he...it was on account of me that he..."

Heath stood and walked to the fire, clenching a fist. Nick and Jarrod exchanged a worried look. Jarrod thought a minute then used his voice of reason.

"No Heath, it wasn't your fault that Jordy died. To lay down your life for your brother is the greatest sacrifice of all. He saved your life Heath, and you carry a large part of him with you. He'll never be dead as long as you keep that part of him alive in you. Of what I know of Jordy, I can see and hear him very clearly in you. He's very much alive, Heath."

"You headin' up to bed, Jarrod?" Nick guessed, breaking the tension.

Jarrod rose to leave for bed and Heath stood and hauled his brother upright. They embraced and with a final swig of his brandy, Jarrod left. He paused at the foot of the stairs and Nick's deep laughter followed him. He turned and watched Heath doubling over as Nick's animated hand and face were busy in the middle of a story, involving a girl and exaggerated, no doubt. As he passed the bathroom another burst of laughter floated up from the foyer below. Jarrod smiled. It sounded like music to his ears.

As he eased onto the soft mattress of the large bed and closed his eyes, Jarrod thought of the last line to the hymn that had unlocked the door to Heath's dark dungeon and set him free.

"And Grace shall lead me home."

Victoria tied the robe around her waist and walked from the bathroom back to her bedroom. She paused at Heath's open door and studied the empty bed inside. Padding down the stairs, she peeked into the parlor and found her youngest son asleep on the sofa. She covered him with a blanket that was nearby and bent, kissing him again. She paused and spotted the little shepherd boy clutched in his hand. Smiling, she pried the prize loose and set it carefully on the table. Kissing his cheek, she ran a hand through the light hair.

"Merry Christmas, Sweetheart. Welcome home."