The boy waved happily as Heath rode off with him. As he and Nick did their errands, Jake tagged along until Nick almost tripped over him.

"BOY, HAVEN'T YOU GOT . . . "

Instantly Jake ran behind Heath's legs. Heath reached down and picked him up.

"Jake, don't ever mind Nick. He roars like a lion, but that's just to hide the fact that he's as gentle as summer rain inside. If you ever need someone to help you, Nick's your man. Isn't that right, Big Brother?"

The blue gaze, which had been so soft as he spoke to Jake and calmed him, turned steely as Heath stared into Nick's hazel eyes. Nick kicked at the boardwalk and muttered something down deep in his throat. Looking up, he saw his sister coming with the rest of her charges.

"Here, boy. Go get some candy or somethin' with Audra."

He tossed Jake a dollar and grinned at him as the boy's face beamed with delight. Heath put Jake down and swatted him gently on the rump as he stood there.

"Well, Jake? I'd think that if I had a dollar to spend and a store full of candy to spend it on, maybe I'd be gettin' while the gettin's good."

Jake hugged his hero's legs and dashed off in pursuit of the other children. Overwhelmed with his riches, he finally told Audra that he needed to go outside and think about what to do with all his money. She smiled and agreed, warning him not to go too far.

As the boy exited the store, he heard something in the alley beside the store. Wondering what was going on, the curious youngster walked over and peered in the alley. There he saw a cowhand talking to a pretty woman. They were whispering, and Jake drew closer to hear.

"I heard the older one say he's going to the orphanage again this Saturday. He gives all those kids rides on his horse, so he'll not be in the buggy with that fancy sister of his. If we can do it then, we've got it made. After the other day, half of Stockton will testify that he was killing mad."

"John, we've got to be careful. We've planned for months, and if anything goes wrong, you could be . . . "

Jake winced as the cowhand stopped the lady's talk with a kiss. With a grin, the man sauntered out of the alley as the woman watched. Jake turned to watch the man go into the saloon. Not understanding what he had just seen and heard, he walked back toward the store. As he did, Audra came looking for him and scolded him gently for taking so long. With a smile, he put his hand in Audra's and went back inside.

"Miss Audra? I think I know what I want to do."

"All right, Jake. Why don't you tell me and we'll decide together."

"Well, I'd like to spend half my money on candy, and I'd like to get Mr. Heath something nice for bein' so nice to me with the other half. Would that be all right?"

Audra smiled at the boy. She knelt and said, "That would be a wonderful idea. But I think that Mr. Heath would be happier if you kept your money for yourself. You know, you can come back again if you don't want to spend it all now!"

Jake frowned. "Don't seem right, not gettin' him something. He's let me ride his horse and been my friend. Isn't that what friends do for each other?"

"Jake, friends don't have to give each other things to show they love them. They just are faithful and true and that's what matters."

"Then Mr. Heath wouldn't mind if he didn't get a gift?"

"Jake, the greatest gift you could give Mr. Heath is your friendship."

"Boy howdy, Miss Audra, he's already got that! Reckon if he ever needs anything, I'll be the one to do it for him!"

Audra smiled as she heard Heath's familiar phrase come out of Jake's mouth. "Yes, I'll bet that if Mr. Heath ever needs anything, Jake, you'll be the man he could turn to." With that, they turned their attention to the important business of selecting fifty cents worth of candy.

On Saturday morning, Nick grumbled as Heath and Audra prepared to go to the orphanage. Heath just gave him his crooked grin and vaulted up on Charger. As he stood watching the two leave the ranch, Jarrod walked up beside him.

"Still think he's wound as tight as he was?"

"I don't know, Pappy. When he's with Audra and those kids, he's a different person. Why do you think he goes over there so much? You only go once a month!"

"Well, Nick, think just a minute. Surely even your brain isn't filled with so much dust from chasing cattle that you can't figure it out!"

Nick glared at Jarrod for a minute and then understanding dawned. "Guess I forgot what his childhood was like. It's strange, Jarrod. The longer he stays, the more it's like he's always been here."

"I know what you mean. Father missed out on a lot by not getting to know this son of his." The two men continued to chat as they walked back to the house.

Audra wore out with the children long before Heath did. With a smile and a wave, she got in her buggy and drove off, leaving the blond cowboy to "give just one more ride, Mr. Heath." As she drove off, she called back, "I'll tell Mother to save you some supper!" The cowboy grinned as he put Jake and another child on Charger.

Sunset had come by the time Heath decided to leave. Whistling, he mounted Charger and rode out of the yard. Looking at the time, he shook his head and decided to take the shortcut. He knew Nick and Jarrod wanted him to stay away from the Winters' place, but he decided that it was the shortest route home, and he wanted his supper. Feeling more relaxed than he had in weeks, he urged Charger to a canter and thought about roast beef and apple pie.

His reverie was broken by the sound of a shot to his right as he went by the road to Winters' house. Starting to turn, he reined in Charger and thought about it for a minute. "Jarrod and Nick'll kill me if I get in any kind of fight again. Maybe it's just . . . "

As the cowboy thought about his options, the decision was made for him as he heard another shot and a scream. Urging Charger to a gallop, he turned off the main road and rode toward the sound. He saw Mildred Winters first, her blouse torn and her hair fallen down around her shoulders. She was sobbing and screaming. She held a gun in her hand. At her feet lay a body. Heath dismounted swiftly and ran to the woman. He took the gun from her hand and knelt to check the man who lay prone on the ground. It was Arthur Winters! Heath felt for a pulse but there was none. Mrs. Winters continued to sob and moan as Heath stood. She ran into his arms, crying hysterically.

As Heath held her awkwardly, he felt cold steel on his throat. "Well, MISTER Barkley, guess you've got what's comin' to you now, don't you? Now, nice and easy, let the lady go and give her that gun."

As Heath obeyed the commands, a cold fist seemed to grip his stomach. What was happening? He turned slowly to see John Farmer putting his knife back in its sheath. Grinning wolfishly, the man moved his head toward Heath's own gun. Mrs. Winters took it and fired it in the air twice; as she did, Farmer took the gun she was holding and put it in his own holster.

"Now, MISTER Barkley, I reckon we need to go for the sheriff. Mrs. Winters, ma'am, I'm sorry to bother you, but we'll need some rope to tie his hands. No tellin' what else he'd do if we didn't restrain him."

Mildred Winters went to Heath's horse and took the rope off the pommel of his saddle. Farmer gestured to Heath to back up against a tree that lined the road. In a cold sweat, the cowboy obeyed.

"Now, Ma'am, if you'll just take this gun and hold it on him. Keep it cocked so he'll know you mean business. And don't get too close to him; you can't trust his kind."

As the woman took the gun, Farmer roughly pulled Heath's hands behind his back and around the tree. He trussed Heath as tightly as possible; after checking to see that there was no possible way Heath could move or escape, he walked back and took the gun from Mrs. Winters. Striking a match, he looked around for the two bullets from Heath's gun. Finding them, he picked them up and put them in his pocket.

"Reckon you'll be safe now, ma'am. I'll not be long, but I've gotta get the sheriff. Here, take this jacket to cover yourself. If you're scared of him, just lock yourself in the big house."

The woman simply fell to her knees beside the body of her husband and waited. Panting, Heath looked around him wildly. What had happened? As he waited to hear the hoofbeats of the horses coming back, his mind raced frantically to understand what was happening. Who had attacked Mrs. Winters? Who had killed her husband? No answer came, but fear arrived. Gradually, as the cowboy calmed himself, he realized that he was to be blamed for this murder.

The horses' hooves drummed mercilessly in his ears as the sheriff came riding up with Farmer, the doctor, and some other men. He threw one glance at Heath and gently pulled Mrs. Winters to her feet as the doctor knelt to check on Winters.

'Ma'am? Can you tell us what happened?"

Mildred Winters began to sob again. She looked at the helpless cowboy and sobbed, "Oh, Heath, what have you done? What have you done?"

Sheriff Madden looked sick as he took in her torn blouse and the blood surrounding her dead husband. He looked at the helpless cowboy and then at Doc Merar.

"Two bullets through the heart, Fred," the doctor said.

"This here's his gun, Sheriff."

The sheriff reached out and took the gun from Farmer. Heath could only stand there and stare as Madden checked the number of bullets in the gun.

"Two gone. Heath, is this your gun?"

The cowboy nodded wordlessly.

"Sam, go get Jarrod and Nick. Tell them to come into town and to meet me at the jail. Now, Heath, I'm gonna have to take you in. You understand that, don't you?"

Heath only stared at the sheriff as he was untied. The cold steel of handcuffs clicked around his wrists and Madden walked him to his waiting horse. "Heath, I want your word that you'll ride back peaceable."

Heath looked at the sheriff in shock.

"Heath, as wild as I know you can be, if you don't give me your word, I'm gonna have to tie you on this horse. Now, is this gonna be easy or hard?"

"I'll--I'll go with you, Sheriff," the blond choked out. He mounted his horse and began the long ride to the jail. Each step of the way, he perspired more as he realized that he was to be caged in. By the time they arrived in Stockton, he was trembling and his shirt was drenched in perspiration. As they walked into the jail, his steps were faltering, and the sheriff had to support him. The clanging of the cell door resounded throughout his mind and he fell to the bunk, staring hopelessly at the floor.

Slumped on the cot in the cell, Heath was so caught up in the shock of what had happened that he didn't notice the uproar in the front office as Nick and Jarrod arrived at the jail. Nick stormed in before Jarrod, demanding to see his brother. Sheriff Madden protested, but to no avail. Nick barreled on through to the jail, where he saw his brother staring at the floor.

"Heath!"

No response came from the cowboy. Sheriff Madden tried to get Nick to return to the front office, but Nick shook him off with an angry growl.

"Nick, settle down. We won't help Heath if you get in trouble, too. Now, Fred, why don't you open this door and let us talk to Heath?"

As the door was opened, Nick was in the cell like a shot. As he looked at his brother, rage filled him.

'FRED, DID YOU THINK HE WAS SO DANGEROUS THAT YOU COULDN'T EVEN TAKE OFF THE HANDCUFFS?"

"Nick, everything's happened so fast, and he's acting so strange--well, I was just glad to get him here. Didn't seem that the cuffs were bothering him."

"WELL, THEY BOTHER ME! GET THEM OFF OF HIM!"

The sheriff complied, but his face was troubled as he left the three brothers in Heath's cell.

"Heath, you need to tell me what happened."

The cowboy didn't respond as Jarrod tried to question him. The lawyer laid a hand on his brother's shoulder, but still Heath stared at the floor.

"HEATH! LOOK AT ME!" Nick shouted as he shook his brother. To his great shock, Heath whimpered and scooted back on the cot as far as he could. More gently, he called his brother's name, but Heath still acted as if he did not hear the two men calling him. His eyes were not focused; his face was blank.

"Jarrod, what's wrong with him? Did he get hurt out there?"

"Just wait a minute, Nick. He's had some shocks, but I don't think that's why he's acting so strangely. When you told me he was at Carterson, some things clicked in my mind. There's a lot of research on prisoners of war; some doctors are beginning to say that the experience changes them forever. If they're right, and if Carterson was half as bad as we heard, I think we're dealing with a bigger problem than whether he was hurt tonight."

"Well, Pappy, what do you suggest we do? We can't leave him like this!" The tall cowboy paced the cell angrily. With each jingle of his spurs and pound of his boots, Heath seemed to slip deeper and deeper into his strange trance.

Jarrod looked at his brothers with compassion. Nick was all action, wanting to do something--anything--to make this situation better. Heath was lost, sitting there all alone. That was it! With an idea in his head, Jarrod went over to Nick.

"I think we may be able to reach him, but it's going to take both of us."

"What do you mean?"

"Just go over to the cot. Sit on his right side and keep your hand on his shoulder. Now here's the hard part, Nick: Whatever you do, whatever he does, don't raise your voice. In fact, let me do the talking, all right?"

Nick looked at his brother in bewilderment but nodded. He walked over to Heath, sat down beside him, and put his hand on his brother's shoulder. Heath gave no acknowledgment of Nick's presence. Jarrod sat on his left and put his hand on Heath's knee.

"Heath? Listen to me now. You're safe. You're not at Carterson. No one is going to hurt you. Heath? Can you hear me? It's Jarrod, Heath. Just turn your head and look at me."

Perspiration rolled off Heath's forehead as he stared at the floor. It took all Nick's self- control to keep from shaking the boy as he waited for Jarrod to penetrate the mental fog Heath had retreated to. To the tall, impatient cowboy, it seemed like they sat there for hours until awareness gradually came into the younger man's eyes. Slowly, he turned his head and looked at Jarrod.

"Jarrod?"

"That's right, Heath. I'm right here."

"Nick?"

"I'm right here, boy. Now just sit back and relax. You're all right now."

As if to prove Nick's statement was correct, a grin tugged at Heath's mouth as he looked around.

"If I'm all right, who's in jail?"

Both his brothers laughed in relief as they saw life flooding back into their brother's face. Nick rose and began to pace again as Jarrod relaxed his grip on Heath's knee.

"Heath, you need to tell me what happened tonight."

"What happened?"

"That's right, tonight. You know, Heath. When Winters died?" Nick's sarcastic tone seemed to cut into the air as pain filled his brother's eyes. Jarrod frowned at Nick and shook his head to warn him to be silent.

"Winters is dead?"

"Yes, Heath. Arthur Winters is dead. His wife says you shot him."

"She says I shot him?" Heath shook his head from side to side. He raised his hands to his face and rubbed it. "Why would I shoot him?"

"That's what we want to know, Heath. What happened with him?"

"Nothing happened, Jarrod. Nothing at all. I never saw him."

As the lawyer stared at Heath, the blond could see the shock and confusion in his face. Desperately, Heath looked up at Nick, only to see the same confusion mirrored there.

"You gotta believe me! Nothing happened!"

"Well, Heath, if nothing happened, then why is Arthur Winters dead from two bullet wounds? And why were two bullets gone from your gun? And why does Mrs. Winters accuse you?" Jarrod's questions came quick and fast.

"I don't know! I just don't know! When I got there, he was already dead!"

"Heath, what are you saying?"

"He's saying that he didn't do it, Jarrod. Even I can understand that. Now you've got to get this mess figured out so that we can get him out of here."

"All right, Heath. Tell me everything that happened. Start from when you left the orphanage."

As the cowboy recounted the bizarre story, even he grew more aware of the hopelessness of the situation. Both Jarrod and Nick believed him, but with two witnesses, one of them the dead man's widow and the other a man he had twice publicly threatened to kill, who else would?

"One thing we've got to go on is Farmer. He certainly had a grudge against you. We've got to prove that he and Mildred planned this. But how would they know when you would be riding by? How would they know to involve you at all?"

Heath shook his head helplessly. Sheriff Madden came to the cell door.

"Jarrod, I'm afraid you'll have to go now. You can see him in the morning."

"Go? Jarrod, do I have to stay here?" Heath's blue eyes seemed to grow dark as he looked at his brothers, appealing to them for understanding and support.

"Yes, Heath, I'm afraid you'll have to stay here tonight."

Heath looked around him wildly. Perspiration began to form on his forehead again as he contemplated a night behind bars--caged again. His breath began to quicken. Then Nick knelt down in front of him.

"Heath, I know it must be bad. But we'll get you out of this. We believe you. You've just got to hang on. Do you understand, boy? Hang on."

Heath focused his gaze on his brother's face. The compassion and understanding that had welled up in Nick's eyes the day he learned about Heath's time in Carterson was back. This time, Heath latched on to that compassion. He swallowed convulsively and nodded once. Nick clapped him on the shoulder and stood to go.

"Heath, I'll see you first thing in the morning."

"I'm not goin' anywhere, Jarrod."

Heath delivered the feeble joke in a whisper, but the look of determination on his face strengthened both his brothers. No one saw him cover his face with trembling hands as the cell door clanged shut and both men left with the sheriff. No one saw him shake all night long as he fought his demons. No one saw his battle with the jail walls closing in on him.

No one in the Barkley family slept much that night. The inquest the next day was held with all in attendance. Jarrod objected strongly when Allen Kincaid, the prosecuting attorney, required Heath to be handcuffed because of his reputation for violence. Heath, happy to be out of the cell for whatever reason, calmed the lawyer by pointing out that they had more important things to worry about. As he came into the sheriff's office, Audra and Victoria attacked him with hugs.

"Well, good morning to you, ladies!" Heath mustered a smile as he looked at his sister and Victoria. His mother's penetrating gaze saw through the smile to the fear beneath, and she whispered, "Jarrod will win this case, Heath. Trust him. We believe in you."

The ravages of the night apparent in his drawn appearance, the cowboy smiled down at the petite, white-haired woman. For just a moment, he marveled at the thought that this woman had accepted him, even loved him! He shook his head in wonder.

"Heath? Are you really all right?" Audra's sweet voice penetrated his musings.

"Well, Little Sister, it all depends on what you mean by all right. For someone who had to spend the night here in Sheriff Madden's hotel, I reckon I'm doin' just fine." Heath smiled reassuringly at Audra as his eyes met Jarrod's. He saw echoes of his exhaustion in Jarrod's eyes. It was obvious that the lawyer had not slept, either.

The inquest was short and damaging to Heath. Mrs. Winters testified that she had gone for a walk down the path to the main road. She accused Heath of attempting to molest her and told a tragic story of her husband's coming to rescue her. The story of how the youngest Barkley had coldly taken his gun and shot her husband before her eyes had the entire audience spellbound. As she wept, the prosecutor gently guided her through the rest of her testimony. She revealed that she had been meeting Heath on Saturdays, and implied that her husband had reason to be jealous. Then she broke into hysterics, screaming, "But I never wanted him dead! I never wanted him dead! Oh, Arthur, I'm so sorry." She was gently escorted from the room as John Farmer was called.

Farmer gave his testimony clearly. He had been going to go to town with the other hands, but on the way, he began to feel ill. Returning, he heard two gunshots. Riding up the lane, he found Heath Barkley standing over his employer's body, holding a smoking gun. Fearful of facing Barkley face-to-face, he had drawn a knife and held it to Heath's throat. As the blond had thrown down the gun, Farmer and Mrs. Winters were able to subdue him and tie him to a tree until Farmer could get the sheriff and the doctor.

Heath was bound over for trial. Jarrod requested bail, but it was denied. Taken back to his cell, the blond sat there, wondering just how he had gotten in this terrible situation. Remembering the looks of the people around him, he realized that everyone believed him guilty. He wondered what his new family thought.

"Well, that was certainly an interesting performance, don't you think, Brother Heath?" The lawyer's cool voice brought Heath out of his reverie.

"Performance?"

"Well, your stories match perfectly--except for why you were there and who pulled the trigger and how many guns there were, Heath. My money's on you."

Heath looked at Jarrod, hope dawning in his eyes. The lawyer realized that the cowboy had been afraid that he, too, would doubt the story. He leaned forward.

"Heath, I know you are capable of a lot of things. But you'd never do that to a woman, and you'd never shoot a man in cold blood. I know you better than that. You just have to trust me to figure out how to prove it to everyone else. Now, let's get to work."

With those encouraging words, Jarrod took Heath over and over his story, trying to find any sort of loophole or shred of information he might have missed before.

Barkley tempers grew short as Jarrod prepared for the trial. He came to believe that he had researched every point of law ever written in the hopes of finding something that would save his brother. Nick drove everyone crazy with his wild ideas that he offered continually to get the truth from Mrs. Winters and Farmer. Victoria and Audra were caught in between both men at home, and with their own fears, they, too, were exhausted.

Day after day, Jarrod spent hours with Heath, going over the night of the murder. Heath reached the point where he felt he would lose his mind if Jarrod asked him one more time to go over the route he chose, the reasons he chose that route, the time he left the orphanage, and all the other details. The walls of the jail cell continued to press in on him. The man who had fought against fences all his life found himself physically caged; to make matters worse, the actions and questions of his family gave him the feeling of being emotionally caged as well. The knowledge that they were offering love and support made him feel even more guilty for resenting the pressure of their daily attention.

As the time for the trial drew near, no investigator that Jarrod had hired could come up with any time that Farmer and Mrs. Winters had been seen together. Farmer had an average record for a man of his type, but no one could prove he knew his dead employer's wife other than by sight. The bullets that had killed Winters were of the same caliber as Heath's gun. Farmer had even remembered to take the extra bullets that had been fired, so that hope was dead, too.

Heath sat on his cot, pondering his future. He realized that his chances were slim at best. Jarrod had talked of something called a "change of venue," but his hopes had been dashed on that score. The judge believed the case had received so much publicity that there was no place in California where Heath could receive a more impartial trial.

Guilty. As Heath fought his private battles, he began to picture what would happen when the jury would come in and declare him guilty on all counts. When would the sentencing be? Right then? Or would he have to come back to this cage and wait some more to find out his fate?

"Must be pretty serious thoughts, Sweetheart," Victoria said quietly as Sheriff Madden opened the cell door for her. Placing clean clothes on the end of the cot, she slipped in and sat in the chair beside Heath.

"Not the most entertaining I've ever had," the blond cowboy replied. Making an effort to smile, he looked at his mother.

"How are you doing, Heath? I don't just mean with the trial coming up. Jarrod and Nick told me about how hard it is for you to be confined; Audra even spoke about your hatred for fences. How is this affecting you?"

His mother's warm concern touched a core in Heath that he had guarded all his life. He was beginning to realize that this group of people might be intense, and boy howdy, how they loved to talk! But when they made a commitment, they stuck to it. Having committed to make Heath part of the family, they were determined to do so. Gradually, without his realizing it, they had chipped away all the walls he had built. He was beginning to see those walls fall, and it frightened him while, paradoxically, he enjoyed the feeling of being loved.

"Affecting me? I don't know, Mother. All I can think about is everyone calling me a liar, a murderer, and a . . ."

Victoria's soft hand covered his work-calloused one. "Heath, names don't mean much when they're not true."

"Well, Mother, I understand that nice idea. But I grew up being called names, and I can tell you this: They may not mean much, but they sure do stick in a man's mind. Reckon I could handle the names, though, if I knew that freedom would come my way."

"Jarrod is afraid you've given up fighting."

Heath looked at his mother quizzically.

"In peace there's nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility, But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger."

His quotation of Henry V took the petite woman by surprise. She stared at him in shock. An impish twinkle lit his blue eyes as he waited for her to respond.

"So, you read Shakespeare?"

"Not so much now, but in school, we had to read it. My ma, she made me read all that stuff. That piece stuck in my mind. Guess if Jarrod thinks I've given up the fight, he doesn't know much about tigers."

With that comment, Heath proceeded to cheer his mother by describing how a tiger will lie in wait for his prey and at the right moment, pounce.

"For me, I guess the moment of the tiger will come when I go on the stand."

"You're going to testify?" Victoria asked.

"Yeah, Jarrod and I've talked about it. We sure don't have any people who saw what happened. He thinks it's the only way there's a chance that some of the jury might buy what I say."

What Heath left unspoken was the knowledge all of them held. If the jury voted to convict Heath, he would be, at best, sentenced to life in prison; at worst, he would be hanged. The only difference in his family's feelings was that they regarded life in prison as an infinitely better choice than death by hanging. As the thought of never being a free man became a constant focus in the cowboy's mind, he wasn't so sure they were right.

"Heath, when you get on that stand, you know that the prosecutor will cross-examine you."

"If I hadn't known that, Jarrod would have pounded it in my head by now. He's played devil's advocate so many times, I think I could answer him in my sleep!"

Victoria put her hand on her son's shoulder as she stood. "You are a man of 'modest stillness and humility,' Heath Barkley. Don't surrender. Promise me?"

Heath looked at her seriously. Was it possible that she understood what she was asking? If he promised her, he would be promising to choose life--no matter what the consequences. He would be promising her that he would help to condemn himself to life in a cage. And if she did understand all that, what right did she have to build another fence around him? Yet against his better judgment, he found himself nodding and saying, "All right, Mother. I promise."

Her silent grasp of his hand and her beautiful smile thanked him.

"Now, will you do me a favor?"

"If I can, Sweetheart. What is it?"

"At the orphanage, there's a little fellow named Jake. His birthday is coming up, and I promised I'd take him somewhere special. Guess I can't do that. Would it be too much trouble to let him know why I can't come? Don't scare him, but I don't want him to think I'm backing out on a promise."

"I'll make sure of it this afternoon. When is his birthday, Heath?"

"Well, oddly enough, it's Monday, the first day of the trial. He'll be eight years old."

Victoria kept her word that afternoon. She rode out to the orphanage and was immediately captivated by the little boy. Heath had been right; he had missed his hero greatly.

"Where is he, Mrs. Barkley? Some of the kids say he did a bad thing, but he didn't, did he?"

The boy's unshakable faith moved Victoria to the tears she had hidden from her son for so long. As she smiled at Jake through her tears, her voice broke as she assured him that Heath had not done a bad thing at all.

"Well, I'm his friend, Mrs. Barkley. Friends help each other. How can I help Mr. Heath?"

"Oh, Jake, you are Heath's good friend. Right now, you must pray, all right?"

"Seems like I oughta do more than that! Can I see him, Mrs. Barkley?"

"I don't think that's possible, Jake. But I'll tell him that you wanted to."

"Mrs. Barkley, what's gonna happen?"

"Well, on Monday, there will be what we call a trial. Do you know what that means?"

"No, ma'am, I don't."

"On that day, Heath will be taken to the courthouse. His brother Jarrod will be his lawyer. That means that Jarrod will do his best to tell Heath's side of the story. But Mr. Kincaid, another lawyer, will do his best to make people believe that Heath did this bad thing. It's Jarrod's job to show everyone that Heath is not guilty."

"So we'd better pray for Mr. Jarrod, too, right?"

"Jake, you're the best friend I know! Yes, we had better pray for Mr. Jarrod, too."

Victoria hugged Jake as she said goodbye.

"Will Miss Audra be at the trial?"

"Yes, honey, she will. Why?"

"Can I be there?"

"Jake, I think Heath would prefer you not be there. I think he needs to know that you're outside playing and doing your chores around here."

"Well, I'd rather be with Mr. Heath. Seems to me that a friend would be with his friend when he's in bad trouble."

Victoria hugged Jake again and thanked him for his friendship. When she related the story to Heath, the first genuine smile in days came on his face.

"Jake's a good little friend. I hope . . ."

"You hope what, Sweetheart?"

"Nothin'," the cowboy replied. Trying to change the subject, he asked Victoria who had won the battle over what he would wear on Monday. Victoria wanted him to wear a suit; Jarrod believed he should wear regular clothes. As that particular battle had raged in Heath's cell, he remembered feeling that he was suffocating, but he didn't remember what had been decided.

"Sweetheart, Jarrod thinks that you should wear your regular clothes so that people will think of you as you really are."

"Just a cowhand with a fancy last name that isn't his by right?"

Heath could not have hurt Victoria more if he had slapped her. As she stared at him, her shock and anger grew.

"Do you have a middle name?"

"Yes, ma'am. It's Morgan."

"Heath Morgan Barkley, if I ever hear such stupidity coming from your mouth again, I will wash it out with soap. That's what I did to Jarrod and Nick when they lied. I've never heard such nonsense from you, young man, and I'd better not ever hear it again!"

With that, she whirled out of the cell. Quickly returning, she kissed his forehead but said no more as she left. Heath slumped back down on the cot, feeling oddly comforted by her tirade. He knew the petite woman had a temper, but she had never unleashed it on him before. Musing on the fact that she had yelled at him just like he was Nick or Audra kept him from focusing on his problems for some time.

That night, Victoria awoke with a start. She heard someone moving downstairs. Donning a robe, she descended the stairs, only to see Jarrod sitting with his head in his hands.

"Is it so very bad, Jarrod?"

"Well, Mother, you tell me. Day after tomorrow, I'm going into court to defend my brother. There is an eyewitness to testify that he committed cold-blooded murder, and who knows how many people to testify that he and Winters never got along. The other chief witness just happens to be someone Heath threatened to kill, and of course, there are many people who heard him make that threat. Bad? Yes, Mother, I'd say it's bad when the only argument I have is the accused man's statement that he didn't do it."

"Jarrod, do you believe Heath?"

"What? Why are you asking that?"

"Answer me. Do you believe Heath?"

"The day he threatened Farmer, I confess that I had my doubts about what had happened. But I'm the one who handled that situation badly. I'm coming to see that this brother of mine is more complex, and at the same time more simple, than anyone I've ever known."

"That still doesn't answer my question. Now, you have a client who happens to be your brother. He has an unsupported story. Do you believe him?"

Jarrod walked over to the sideboard and poured himself a drink. He turned to his mother and said, "Yes, Mother, I do. Crazy as his story is, baffled as I am as to how to defend him, I believe him."

"Have you told him so?"

"Not since the day of the inquest, Mother. Why?"

"I don't know why it seems so important to me, but will you promise me, Jarrod, to tell him that you believe him?"

Jarrod nodded as he watched his mother. She kissed him gently and left to go upstairs.

The next day, Jarrod rode into the town, ready to drill Heath all over again. When he entered the cell, however, he took a good look at his brother and changed his mind.

"Heath, we're as prepared as we can possibly be. Let's do something different today."

"What do you have in mind, Jarrod? A jailbreak?"

Jarrod laughed at his brother's joke.

"Well, Brother Heath, as attractive as I'm sure that idea is to you, what I had in mind was a game of cards."

Heath stared at his brother with astonishment as Jarrod brought out a deck of cards. As the lawyer dealt, he automatically picked up his hand and began to play. Jarrod pushed him hard, and he found himself beginning to lose. He looked up at Jarrod, who smiled with the satisfaction of knowing he was winning. Irritated, Heath began to focus. True to form, once he started paying attention, he won.

"Well, Heath, thank you for a most interesting game. Now, will you do me a favor?"

"What's that?"

"I almost beat you, and no one in the family can beat you at cards, chess, or checkers. Will you tell me why I almost won?"

Heath seriously began to think the stress of the past two weeks had caused Jarrod's mind to snap. As he looked at his brother, however, he saw only determination and focus.

"Why, Heath? Why?"

"Jarrod, it's simple. I wasn't paying attention to you."

"Wouldn't it be more true to say you weren't paying attention to the cards?"

"No, it wouldn't!" Heath flared. "You can't win at cards or any game by watching the cards; you gotta watch the people you're playing with. They're the ones who give it all away."

"Tell me what you mean."

"It's not hard. It's just that when you're playing cards, Jarrod, if you have a good hand, your voice changes and you drum your fingers on the table. If you're bluffing, your voice stays the same and your hand stays still. So that tells me when to push and when to fold."

Jarrod smiled in triumph. He leaned forward, facing Heath.

"Heath, tomorrow when we go into that courtroom, I'll be telling the truth and Kincaid will be telling the lie. Mildred and Farmer will both be lying, too. You have an ability to read people. I want you to think of this as the most important card game of your life. Don't focus on what they say; focus on them. Tell me when they make a false move. We can only do this together. Do you understand, Heath?"

Heath slowly nodded. Hope blazed in his eyes.

"Then you still believe me, Jarrod?"

"Heath, I believe you with all my heart. No matter what we hear in the next couple of days, I promise you that won't change."

As the trial began, Kincaid was convinced that he had all the cards. He brought many people to testify about Heath's threats to Farmer, about the discord between him and Winters. The most harmful blow came when he called Nick Barkley to the stand. The entire courtroom grew still as the cowboy paced to the front of the room and glared at the bailiff. Heath stared at the cowboy, who refused to look at him.

Kincaid pushed Nick on the stand to tell of the encounters with Winters. Nick's temper grew short as he repeated the stories; Jarrod objected repetitively as Kincaid played with the hot- tempered man.

"Objection, Your Honor! Counsel is badgering the witness."

"Sustained."

Kincaid went at it from every possible direction. By the time he finished, it was clear that he had used Heath's own brother to draw the noose tighter around the blond cowboy's neck. He strutted back to the table, bowing in Jarrod's direction.

Jarrod stood. His heart was racing. Nick was unpredictable at the best of times, and he would venture to say that this was far from the best. Carefully, he took Nick back through the stories of the encounters with both Winters and Farmer. He did his best to pound in the jury's mind that Nick had never heard Heath threaten to kill anyone. But damage had been done, and repair though he may, Jarrod knew their side was hurt, and hurt badly.

That evening, as Jarrod entered Heath's cell, he was surprised to be greeted by a smile.

"Well, Jarrod? Want to know how to tell when Nick's mad?"

Jarrod's laugh came as much from relief that Heath could joke as it did from the humor.

"No, I think I figured that one out about six hours after he was born, Heath! He really hasn't changed that much."

"Yeah, I figured he was always easy to rile," the younger man answered. With a more serious look, he asked, "Jarrod, isn't it time for some straight talk?"

"I didn't know we ever had done anything else, Heath."

"Lawyer, I may not have the book smarts you do, but I'm smart enough to know when I'm in trouble. And I reckon I'm pretty much in over my head. What chance do you think I have?"

"Heath . . . "

"I mean it, Jarrod. You say I win at cards. Well, that's because I know when to fold as well as when to hold on. And I'm thinkin' that it's time to fold."

"Now you listen to me, Heath! I've not given up hope, and you can't, either. I agree those two have you boxed in, but their time is coming on the witness stand. I need you to be with me, 100 percent; I need to know anything you see that's out of character. You and I know they'll be lying; we just have to figure out how to get them to break. Do you understand me?"

Heath nodded. "Yeah, I understand, Jarrod. Don't get me wrong, but I'm thinkin' that of the two of us, I'm the one who's really understanding what's happening here."

"All right, Heath. But we're not giving up! Now, I had an idea. Mrs. Winters says that you met her at the end of the lane going up to her house when you came back from the orphanage on Saturdays. Can you remember when you started riding Charger instead of driving Audra?"

Heath stared at his brother. "Jarrod, why would I remember something like that?"

"Because, little brother, if we can trip her up on a date and can prove it with Audra's testimony, along with Father Esteban's at the orphanage, we can prove reasonable doubt."

"And what would that do, Jarrod?"

"It would get you out of jail, Heath!"

"Yeah, with everyone always believin' I did it."

"Now who's the one not understanding, Heath?"

The lawyer broke off his impassioned statement as he met the clear blue gaze of his younger brother. He shook his head in amazement at the likeness Heath bore to their father just then. Remembering the times he had tried to avoid answering one of Tom Barkley's questions directly, he smiled as he saw the tilt of Heath's head and the set of his jaw. Just so had Tom Barkley looked at him when, as a child, he avoided giving a direct answer. And he recognized that just as their father wouldn't accept evasion, neither would Heath, his youngest son.

"What's so funny, Jarrod?"

"Nothing really. Just then, you were the image of Father. It was like he was staring at me instead of you."

Heath dropped his head as Jarrod answered. His hand went to his shirt sleeve and found the button. Experience had already taught Victoria to reinforce the buttons on all his shirts, and her diligence did not go unrewarded. Around and around went the button, but for once, it did not snap off.

"Heath?"

No answer came.

"Heath, when one of us mentions your resemblance to Father, why do you never respond?"

For a long time, Heath sat and said nothing. Just as Jarrod began to fear that he had slipped back into that world where he allowed no one to enter, the younger man looked up.

"Well, I guess it's for two reasons, maybe three."

With a lifted eyebrow, Jarrod mutely invited Heath to continue.

"First, I don't want anyone to be hurt any more than I've already hurt them. Second, every time someone mentions my lookin' like him, it's like they're talking about a ghost. And third, it puts more nails in the fence."

"Am I supposed to understand?"

Heath grinned. "Well, if you ever do, let me know so I can understand, too. All right?"

Both men laughed as Jarrod prepared to leave. Heath prepared himself for the night alone again, for the walls on his cage to press in, for his demons to come back and haunt him. Longing to avoid the moment he was alone in the cell again, the man who once had longed for solitude and quiet pressed for one more moment of time from his brother.

"Jarrod? How's Nick doin' with all this?"

"He's full of fire, as always."

"No, I mean with what happened today. He wouldn't--he wouldn't look at me."

To reveal such vulnerability obviously cost Heath a good deal, because the shirt button popped. His hand dropped the button as he clenched and unclenched his fist, waiting for his brother to answer.

Looking compassionately at the top of Heath's dropped head, Jarrod thought for a moment. "Heath, he's not avoiding you because he's lost faith in you," he began.

"I know that." The blond man swallowed once. "I just want to know if he understands that I know he had no choice, that he did what he had to do today."

"Well, Heath, when this is all over, you can figure that out by the number of times he sends you to clean out mud holes or fix fences he doesn't want to tackle!"

Heath smiled as Jarrod patted his shoulder. As the cell door clanged shut, he tried to picture tomorrow, tried to picture a world of tomorrows. But all he could see in his future was what Sheriff Madden had told him: Since 1851, capital punishment had been legal in California. And hanging was the way they executed people. And county sheriffs were the ones who did the hanging. And here in Stockton, the county seat of San Joaquin County, Sheriff Madden would be the one putting the rope around the blond cowboy's neck. As darkness fell both outside his cell window and inside his heart, no one wanted morning to come more than Heath Barkley.

Audra was in tears that night as Jarrod pressed the pretty blonde for the dates that she and Heath had ridden together to the orphanage. Tempers grew short and voices grew louder. Victoria finally ordered them both to stop talking and to listen. Gently, she guided Audra to think back to the times Heath had driven her. They came to an agreement that Heath had started taking an interest in the orphanage the Saturday after his beloved Buffalo Gal had died. As Audra talked, she realized that he had started taking Charger the second week, because he enjoyed his times with Jake so much.

"If for no other reason than that, little sister, Jake has earned our family's undying gratitude. If that boy ever wants anything at all, you just let me know!"

With that announcement and a new, jaunty set to his shoulders, the lawyer went whistling off to the study. As Audra fumed about the way he had questioned her, Victoria watched Nick leave the room. Uncharacteristically silent all night long, her middle son was concerning her in some ways even more than Heath. Rising, she smiled at Audra and walked out to the veranda where Nick was standing, rhythmically smacking one fist into the palm of his other hand.

"Who's winning?"

Startled, Nick grinned sheepishly at his mother. She tucked her arm in his and guided him to the swing. Recognizing her invitation, the cowboy looked at her.

"Today wasn't pretty, was it, Nick?"

"You might say that. I've never had to betray a brother before."

"And just how did you betray a brother today?"

"Mother, you were there! My blasted temper got the best of me, and even when I was under control, Kincaid had me all tied up in knots so bad that even Jarrod couldn't untie them. All I could think of was that I was sitting there, helping to put a noose around Heath's neck!"

"Yes, Nick, you did lose your temper. And yes, Kincaid did best you in his questions. But how is either of those things a betrayal of Heath?"

"Mother! He actually had me admitting that I had talked about when Heath would finally snap and that I worried about what he would do when he did."

"Were your statements true?"

Exasperated but unwilling to roar at his mother, the cowboy simply glared at her. Smiling, she reached out for his hand.

"Nick, if there's one thing your father valued over family loyalty and love, it was truth. He felt that there could be no real relationship without it. In many ways, I think that characteristic is how Heath most closely resembles your father."

As Nick moved, his mother raised a hand to stop him.

"Now hear me out. I realize that Heath looks like your father, but I'm talking about things that really matter: things of character. Have you ever known Heath to lie?"

"No, Mother, of course not. But . . ."

"And even when it puts him in a very bad light, have you ever known Heath to avoid accepting blame for things he has done?"

"Well, there are times he just doesn't talk, but when it comes down to it, no, I guess he never avoids accepting blame."

"Then you see how important truth is to Heath. So if you, the man that Heath admires more than anyone else on this earth, had broken his trust by lying, even about unpleasant aspects of his character, then, and only then would you have betrayed him, Nicholas."

The dark-haired man stared at his mother. A smile lifted the corners of his mouth.

"Well now. Just who made you so smart and wise?"

Victoria smiled as she reached out to hug Nick. She gently kissed his forehead as she passed inside the house. Nick sat for a long time on the swing, thinking through the day.

In the courtroom the next morning, people were fighting for seats. No one wanted to miss watching the rope wind tighter around a Barkley's neck. As Heath entered with the sheriff, a murmur went through the room. Heath tensed as he heard the whispers; his eyes grew dark with pain. Then a pair of hazel eyes met his; as he gazed at his brother, Nick slowly winked. Heath grinned back and, strengthened, walked to the table where Jarrod was waiting and sat down.

Kincaid skillfully guided Mildred Winters through her testimony. She had the entire courtroom understanding why she had fallen for the handsome, mysterious cowboy. As she described life with her austere, unforgiving husband, heads were nodding as she told of her desire to escape. She candidly admitted that what she and Heath had done was wrong, but Kincaid skillfully insinuated that it was Heath who had encouraged the wrongdoing. And when she got to the night of the murder, the room was breathlessly silent as she described a man gone mad, tearing her garments, insisting on liberties formerly denied. Her words wove a picture of her husband, bent on vengeance and protection, falling at her feet from the bullets of the blond man's gun.

Kincaid continued his questioning.

"Mrs. Winters, you have testified that you were becoming romantically involved with the accused. Is that correct?"

"I-- I am embarrassed to say it, but yes, that is correct." A pearly tear crept down the woman's cheek.

"But we are accepting this story completely on your word, is that correct?"

"I suppose so."

"Is there any evidence you can give us that you knew Heath Barkley more intimately than a neighbor would normally know a neighbor?"

Mrs. Winters dropped her head for a moment. Jarrod waited intently; Heath looked at her with contempt.

"Well, yes, I think there is. I--I'm just so ashamed!"

"Mrs. Winters, if you want your husband's killer convicted, you need to tell us. You need to prove your story."

Her voice was so faint that the courtroom strained to hear it. "Heath has scars--whip scars--all down his back."

Jarrod was up, trying to register an objection, but the courtroom was in pandemonium. Kincaid waited until there was order and then spoke.

"Your Honor, my worthy opponent has registered an objection. I submit that this would be an easy matter to prove."

Judge Carter ordered both lawyers to approach the bench. Jarrod argued heatedly that displaying his brother's back publicly would be cruel and unnecessary. He begged to be allowed to stipulate to the fact that Heath's back was scarred.

"Jarrod, have you ever seen those scars?" the judge asked.

"No, Your Honor, but Nick has. He's told me about them."

"Your Honor, Counsel for the defense will obviously be trying to destroy the credibility of my witness. The only way that the jury will believe her is if you allow us to see the scars she is describing. It's a public trial, Your Honor, and the people have a right to know the truth."

Judge Carter had not met Heath, but he had heard stories of the young man's temper and fighting abilities. He listened to both lawyers, and then, with an expressionless face, he ordered Heath to stand and remove his shirt.

Heath's eyes burned into Jarrod's soul as he stood. The lawyer realized that no one would ever understand just what this moment cost his younger brother as with shaking hands he took off his vest and unbuttoned his shirt. As he removed the garment, Jarrod helped him turn so that his back was first presented to the judge and then to the jury. Everyone was craning to see; as the man pivoted, the livid scars stood out clearly.

"Would these be the scars you mentioned, Mrs. Winters?" A shudder went down Heath's spine as Kincaid walked over and traced the scars with his finger to make his point. The pilloried man stood silently, eyes down, until Judge Carter gave him permission to dress again. Kincaid triumphantly sat down and turned his witness over to Jarrod.

Heath knew he was convicted. Looking at the faces of the jury, he wondered why they would even bother to let Jarrod try to cross-examine her. At that moment, the only person in the courtroom who showed any confidence in Heath was Jarrod Barkley.

Jarrod started out slowly. He took Mrs. Winters through her engagement and early marriage. Standing with his back to the jury, he kept one eye on Heath as he questioned this woman who was trying to blame the cowboy for her husband's death. Doing his best to seem friendly and trustworthy, he asked her to tell of the time that she first met Heath. The widow was ready with a glib answer; as Heath watched, his eyes grew intent. Suddenly he reached for a pencil and wrote a note. Jarrod continued to question the woman while he casually walked across to the table where his brother sat and poured himself a drink of water. As he drank from the glass, he read Heath's note and smiled.

At no time during the cross-examination did Jarrod's imperturbability waver. No matter how vehemently the woman kept to her story, no matter how many times Kincaid objected, no matter when the judge hammered his gavel to regain order in the courtroom after a particularly outrageous insinuation from the lawyer's questions, Jarrod never lost his calm. Mrs. Winters didn't know what was hitting her. She desperately tried to keep each answer she gave to her inquisitor in her mind so that she wouldn't slip up. And as Jarrod pounded his questions in, with each lie she would reach up and touch her hair. Finally, knowing that if he pushed any more the jury would hate him for torturing a woman, he stopped the inquisition. As he walked back to the table, his eyes met Heath's, and for the first time in many days, the lawyer saw a spark of Barkley fire back in his brother's countenance.

As the judge ordered the court to reconvene in one hour, people rose to go find their noonday meals. Nick shot to the front of the courtroom and pounded both men on their backs.

"Attaboy, Pappy! You're doing great! Keep it up! I knew you'd figure out a way to get her to crack!"

"That, Brother Nick, is praise due not to me, but entirely to our little brother here. And remind me, Heath, to talk to you before I play poker with Nick again, all right?"

Heath grinned widely as the sheriff led him back to his cell. For the first time since this nightmare had begun, he dared to believe that maybe, just maybe, things would go his way. As the brothers watched him walk away, Jarrod turned serious.

"Nick, this was a good morning, but we're a long way from finished."

"What do you mean, Jarrod? You got her so confused on dates that I couldn't keep track of what she was saying. Surely there's room for doubt now!"

"In many ways, Nick, she was the easier of the two. And don't forget, Kincaid will be calling Farmer next."

Nick shook his head in disbelief.

"Jarrod, you can't mean that you think Farmer's going to win!"

"I hope not, Nick. With all my heart, I hope not."