Trial of the Heart

Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the TV program "Big Valley" are the creations of Four Star/Republic Pictures and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.

Heath cradled Libby's body in his arms. A tear escaped down his cheek. He couldn't believe she was dead. "Oh Libby," he thought. "I love you. Why, why?" he questioned; his mind wrought with grief as he knelt there in the street.

Jarrod slowly walked over to his brother's side. He gently laid a hand on Heath's shoulder. "Heath," Jarrod started to say. "Let me help ..."

Heath flung his brother’s hand off his shoulder. "Don't you think you've helped enough?" Heath replied, his voice filled with hurt. Staring down at Libby's limp form he continued, "Jarrod, The lawyer. The all mighty lawyer who brings about truth and justice, no matter what the consequences."

Heath hugged Libby’s body to his chest, then tenderly laid her on the ground. He wiped a hand across his eyes as he stood to face Jarrod. "Oh yes, I think you've helped enough. And you should be so proud. You won this case too. Yes, once again the brilliant Jarrod Barkley triumphs against all odds to bring the guilty to justice. Do you even care about anything but winning? Do you ever think of what you are doing to others people's lives?" Heath grabbed Jarrod by the front of his shirt and started roughly shaking him. "Do you? Do you?"

The Sheriff and the Prosecutor, Archer, hurried across the street to Jarrod’s aid. They grabbed Heath’s arms, pulling him off Jarrod. Heath shook free of them. He stood, fists clenched at his sides, glaring at Jarrod.

Archer walked towards Libby's prostrate body and knelt down next to her. He reached his hand out to examine the gun wound.

Heath went berserk. He ran over, grabbed Archer by the back of his shirt and dragged him to his feet. Heath proceeded to pummel him with his fists shouting, "Leave her alone. Leave her alone."

The Sheriff and Jarrod ran to Archers aid, trying to restrain Heath. Between the two of them they managed to haul him off Archer. Heath continued to struggle trying to break free of their grip. "Leave her alone. All of you," he cried "Leave her alone."

A small crowd started to gather at the commotion. The Sheriff spoke to Heath. "If you don't settle down I swear, I'll lock you up." Heath slowly stopped struggling. "Now," the Sheriff continued. "The body of Mrs. Liberty has to be taken into evidence. After the determination of the cause of death has been rendered by the proper authorities, the body will be released for burial." The Sheriff nodded at Jarrod and they released their grip on Heath. "Frank, Jeb," the Sheriff said addressing the gathering crowd. "Take the body up to the Doctor's office. The rest of you go on home."

As the two men stepped forward, Heath moved between them and the body. "Nobody’s touching her. I'll take her to the Doctor's office," Heath said menacingly.

The two men looked at the Sheriff for guidance. The Sheriff hesitated, then nodded. "Ok. Never mind fellows."

Jarrod assisted Archer to his feet as Heath bent down, picked up Libby's body in his arms and stood. He gently placed a kiss on top of her head. Another tear slowly rolled down his cheek. "Oh Libby," he said softly. He slowly turned and walked over to where Jarrod and Archer stood. "I'm not through with you yet," Heath said. He adjusted his hold on Libby and slowly continued on his journey. Jarrod watched his brother go with a heavy heart.

The Prosecutor turned to Jarrod. "I could press charges against your brother for assault you know."

Jarrod stood quietly knowing Archer was right.

"However, given the circumstances I won’t. But, you’d better get him under control. I won’t be so lenient next time," the Prosecutor warned.

Heath took Libby's body to the Doctor's office. After much persuasion, the Doctor finally got him to leave by promising to get word to Heath as soon as the body could be released. Heath stood on the porch of the Doctor's office, lost as to what to do.

Jarrod watched from the shadows across the street, debating on whether to try to approach Heath. He made his decision and stepped into the light of the street lamp.

Heath caught the movement and turned. When he saw who it was, a look of contempt crossed his face.

Jarrod slowly walked across the street stopping a few feet from Heath. "Let's go home Heath," Jarrod said.

Heath stared at his brother. "Jarrod," Heath said in a quiet voice with the underpinnings of anger, "Leave me alone. Get out of my sight before I do something I might later regret."

"I can't just leave you here. Come on, let’s get the buggy and go home. You can come back in the morning," Jarrod tried to reason.

Heath walked calmly towards Jarrod and then punched him in the face with all his might. Jarrod flew backwards on to the ground.

Heath stood over his brother. "I hope I made myself perfectly clear this time," Heath said. He turned and walked off into the darkness leaving Jarrod lying in the street.

Jarrod slowly got up, brushing himself off. He rubbed the side of his face gingerly. "Boy,’ he thought. "He packs one heck of a punch. I'm going to have a fine bruise from this." Jarrod sighed and headed back to the buggy. He knew it would be useless to try to reason with Heath in his current state. No, it would be best to head home and tell the rest of the family what had happened. He prayed Heath would be all right on his own.

"She tried to escape and was shot. She died in Heath's arm." Jarrod concluded.

"And where is Heath now?" Victoria asked gently as she sponged off the side of Jarrod's face.

Jarrod sighed. "I don't know Mother. I left him in town. I didn't know what else to do. I tried to talk to him but...," Jarrod voice trailed off. "Well you can see what that accomplished," Jarrod said ruefully. "He doesn't want anything to do with me. He blames me for Liberty’s death. For proving she, not Heath, was guilty of killing Ambrose. For doing my job." Jarrod got up and stood by the fireplace.

Victoria put down the cloth, walked over and placed her arms around her son. "He's upset Jarrod. That's all. I'm sure he doesn’t really blame you. And he'll realize that too, once he has had a chance to grieve."

Jarrod kissed the top of his mother's head. "Perhaps you're right, though he is really broken up about her death. I think he still loved her."

"Yes and no. Finding Libby alive was a wonderful surprise. Someone he grew up with, someone from his past, someone who loved him. You forget, my son, you have always had people around you who knew you since you were a child. Your brothers, sister, and me," Victoria said with a gentle smile at her son. "You have people you can talk with. People you know love you. People to share memories with. Oh, it’s wonderful to share memories, good and bad with the people you love."

Victoria paused, then continued. "Heath doesn't have that. I think he often feels alone. He is a part of this family and yet at times he is a stranger looking in. His past, and the people who loved him are gone. His mother, his Aunt and now Libby. Do you remember how happy he seemed when he and Libby were reminiscing about the chandler? I think Heath valued finding Libby again because she was part of his past, as much as he valued finding her as an old love. And yes Jarrod, I do believe he still loved her, in a fashion, after all those years."

Nick came down the stairs. "What's going on? Jarrod, what happened to your face?" he asked in a concerned tone.

Jarrod gave him a quick accounting of what transpired.

'Nick," Victoria asked. "I'm worried about Heath alone in town. Would you please ride into town and find him. Try to get him to come home."

"Sure Mother," Nick replied. Nick gave her a kiss on the cheek and headed out the door.

Victoria turned back to Jarrod. '"Why don't you to get some rest."

Jarrod sighed. "You know Mother. When I was in law school I decided I was going to be the best lawyer this state had ever known. Truth and justice above all else. I was going to route out the truth at all costs; leave no stone unturned. And look where this pursuit of truth has led me. Kobie Kyles. I was so sure he was guilty. I tore my own brother apart on the witness stand trying to get at the truth. And then it turns out Heath was right; Kyles was guilty. And what about Keeno? I thought I had found truth there and I ended up sending an innocent man to jail for 9 years of his life. And Liberty. Yes, I found the truth in this case too, but at what cost Mother?"

"You mustn't take anything Heath said to heart. You were doing your job, as you should. You were defending his life. If you hadn't got to the truth, then it could have been him who was tried and sentenced for murder. The job of a lawyer is never easy because for every winner there must be a loser. That is the nature of the business. And Jarrod, no one is perfect. We all make mistakes. But as long as we learn from our mistakes and try not to repeat them, then, well I think we're on the right path. You rectified your mistake with Keeno didn't you? Isn't he one of the best blacksmith’s in the area? And Kyles went to jail. Give Heath time. Time to grieve, to get over Libby. Don't push him. Let him come to you, when he is ready. And mark my words, he will come. He cares deeply for you. And Jarrod," Victoria said looking deep into her son’s eyes. "Never doubt that you are a good lawyer."

Jarrod kissed his mother goodnight and went up the stairs leaving Victoria alone.

"My sons," she said softly.

Heath walked into saloon and made his way over to the bar. "Give me a bottle of whiskey," he demanded slapping money on the counter. The bartender hesitated. Earlier, he had heard some comments being made about the Barkleys and the murder of Ambrose; negative comments. He didn’t want any trouble in his bar.

"I said, give me a bottle of whiskey," Heath repeated. "Or I’ll come over this counter and take it."

The bartender decided it was better not to argue and did as he was instructed. Heath took the bottle and went to the far end of the bar. He uncorked it and putting it to his lips, drained a good portion of it. The bartender slid a glass in Heath’s direction. Heath glared at the bartender but took the glass and filled it. He stopped before drinking, contemplating the glass in his hand; staring into it’s depths as he swished the amber liquor around.

Time passed quietly for awhile. Heath worked his way through the bottle of whiskey and demand another bottle from the bartender. He wove his way over to a table near the wall where he slumped into a chair and uncorked the new bottle.

At a nearby table, a bunch of cowboys were playing cards. One of the players started to deliberately talk loud. "Yeah, I hear that the Barkley boy got off. They managed to pin it on the women. Guess Barkley money can buy anything. Even for half-breed Barkleys."

Heath eyes narrowed as he downed another drink.

"Yeah, well I heard," another one of the card players said in an equally loud and deliberate voice, "that the show girlie got what she deserved. They say she would visit the dressing room of any man who came a-callin’ if you get my meaning. She was really just a traveling whor..."

He never got to finish his sentence. Heath tackled him to the floor and started beating on him. The rest of the card players flung over the table and joined in the fight. The bartender yelled for them to break it up but the call went unheard. He ducked under the counter as a free-for-all broke out in the saloon.

Heath wouldn’t let up on the man and his friends were hard pressed to pull him off. One of them grabbed a bottle and smashed it on Heath’s back. Heath’s grasp on the man momentarily loosened as he fell to his knees. However, the amount of alcohol he consumed made him oblivious to pain and he quickly regained his feet and went after the man again. The man was scared. Heath brutally knocked aside two other people working his way towards him. The man looked at his hand, the top half of the broken bottle still clutched in it; the broken bottle, wickedly sharp. The man decided to use it as a weapon. He slashed at Heath with it. The first swing missed and Heath kept coming. In desperation, the man swung the bottle again, this time connecting and seriously slashing Heath on the underside of his right forearm. This seemed to have little impact, as Heath continued to reach for the man’s throat. Desperately, he yelled for his friends to help him. As one, the four men rushed Heath. It took all of them and a lot of tussling, but they finally managed to knock Heath to the floor.

Nick drove the wagon into town. "Wonder where I should start lookin’," he muttered. Two men came crashing out the saloon door into the street. "That looks like a good place to me," Nick said. He rode up to the front of the saloon, got out the wagon and tied the horse to the rail. He worked his way into the saloon, avoiding the fighting men as he scanned for Heath. Nick finally spotted him. He was pinned to the floor by three men while a fourth pummeled him. Nick sprinted across the saloon, grabbed the man beating Heath and delivered him a punch that knocked him clear across the room. One of the other men let go of Heath and started after Nick. Nick easily dispatched him. The other two men let go of Heath and moved away. Heath slumped to the floor. Nick knelt down to examine his brother as the Sheriff and two of his deputies came through the door, guns drawn.

After establishing some semblance of order, the Sheriff demanded to know how the fight started. The bartender came out of hiding and told the Sheriff that Heath had started it. The Sheriff looked at Nick and the unconscious form of Heath.

"Now wait a minute here. Look Sheriff, when I came in there were four men beating on my brother, " Nick complained.

The bartender spoke up again. "Heath started it. He was drunk and started a fight with a bunch of men who were mindin’ their own business playin’ cards. Those men were just trying to defend themselves from Heath. He was gonna kill them."

"Four to one, and Heath was gonna kill ‘em?" Nick said sarcastically.

"I told you Mister, he was crazy, crazy drunk, he was gonna kill them," the bartender answered firmly.

The Sheriff considered what to do. It was the second time today Heath had apparently been the root cause of trouble. He should by all rights lock him up. He knew if Prosecutor Archer was here he’d demand he’d be locked up. However, considering all that had happened to Heath, the Sheriff reconsidered. "All right Nick. Get him out of here, out of town and keep him out of trouble," the Sheriff replied. Addressing one of his deputies he said "Help him."

The bartender whined, "Sheriff, what about my saloon, what about the damages that boy caused. I want him arrested."

Nick reached into his pocket and drew out a stack of bills. He counted some off and flung them on the counter. "That oughta cover your damages," Nick said with disdain. Turning to the deputy he said, "Give me a hand getting’ him out to the wagon."

As they carried the unconscious form of Heath out the door, Nick overheard someone make a comment. "It’s like I said. The Barkley money can buy anything," the anonymous voice concluded. Nick stopped for a moment, then continued walking out the door. As he passed the Sheriff he said with a knowing look, "All Heath’s fault huh?"

Nick and the deputy placed Heath in the wagon.

"You know Nick," the deputy said. "You might be wantin’ to take him over to see the Doc before you head home. His arm is bleeding pretty bad."

Nick went over to the deputy’s side and looked. He was right. Heath shirt sleeve was soaked in blood. He rolled up the sleeve and saw an angry looking wound extending from his wrist to nearly the elbow. It was pumping blood at an alarming rate. Nick put pressure on the wound, securing it best he could with his neck-kerchief.

"Thanks," Nick said and quickly headed the wagon towards the Doctors.

"Well," said the Doctor as he finished his examination. "You’re brother is a lucky man. There is no permanent damage to the tendons that I can see. I think he’ll get full use of the arm again. But, the artery near the wrist was nicked. It’s a good thing you brought him in. He could have been in serious trouble if the bleeding hadn’t stopped. I’m going to stitch it up. He seems to be out cold so I’m just gonna go ahead and do it," the doctor said as he threaded the needle. "The important thing," the doctor continued as he delicately sewed up the wound. "Is to keep this arm immobilized as much as possible until that tear in the artery has a chance to heal. If that artery rips open again, he could bleed to death. I’d also say he probably has cracked a rib or two not to mention the hangover he gonna have. I don’t envy this boy when he wakes up," he finished as he tied off the knot. "I’d suggest bed rest for at least a week and taking it easy for at least two to three more weeks. I’ll come out to the house tomorrow and check on him," the Doctor said. The Doctor bandaged Heath’s forearm as well as his ribs. He helped Nick carry him to the wagon.

"Thanks Doc," Nick said as he climbed into the wagon.

"Your welcome," the Doctor said as he started to turn away. "Oh yes, the body of that lady, Mrs. Liberty, will be available for burial tomorrow afternoon. I promised Heath I would let him know. I assume he had plans to bury her, though he’s not going to be able to in his condition," the Doctor concluded.

"We’ll take care of it Doc. I’ll send someone into town tomorrow to collect her," Nick said.

"That will be fine. See he rests," the Doctor replied as he went back into his office.

Nick clucked to the horse and turned the wagon towards home.

After Nick arrived home and after getting the unconscious Heath settled in bed, he joined the family downstairs. Nick filled them in on what happened. "I’m not saying that he didn’t have a major hand in the fighting in the saloon, but I suspect he was provoked. That and he was pretty drunk," Nick concluded.

"That isn’t important," Victoria said. "What is important is that you brought him home. Thank you Nick."

"Oh yeah," Nick interjected. "The Doc said Liberty’s body would be available for burial tomorrow afternoon. I told him we’d send some men into town to pick her up."

"I think Heath would prefer if you and Jarrod went instead," Victoria said.

"That’s fine. But we have to decide where she is to be buried." Jarrod stated.

"I hadn’t thought about that," Victoria puzzled. "They buried Ambrose in the Stockton cemetery. I suppose she could be buried next to him," Victoria said in an unconvinced tone.

"Do you think that is wise? After all, she did murder him," Jarrod replied.

"Yes, that crossed my mind too," Victoria replied. "It could be awkward. It’s late. Let’s good to bed and we’ll figure this out in the morning."

It wasn’t often the Barkleys slept in, but after the night they all had, no one was anxious to get out of bed, so they had a late breakfast.

"It’s agreed. We’ll bury her out by Father’s grave?" Jarrod asked.

Everyone nodded his or her head in agreement.

"Nick and I will go get her this afternoon," Jarrod continued. "Nick, I have some business to attend to at the office. Say you meet me there about 4:00 p.m."

"Fine," Nick replied.

After breakfast, Victoria went upstairs to check on Heath. He still hadn’t shown signs of waking. She sat by him a while and then left to do some jobs about the house. She looked in on him periodically hoping she’d find him awake.

Heath slowly opened his eyes a bit. He’d had hangovers before but nothing like this. His whole body ached. He lay in bed trying to decipher the random images flashing through his muddled brain. Things slowly came back to him. There was a fight. Yes. That was why he hurt all over. He’d been fighting, but why? Suddenly, it all came back to him in a rush. Libby. Libby was dead. Heath groaned and closed his eyes. Heath lay there, his mind grieving as much as his body. The body, he remembered all the sudden. I have to go get her from the Doc’s. What time is it? Heath opened his eyes and tried to rise. He discovered his right arm wouldn’t move. With his head pounding like a blacksmith’s anvil, Heath tried to sit up again using his other arm. He got half way up and fell back onto the pillows. He tried again rolling onto his left side and using that arm to prop himself up. He started sweating and panting from the exertion of sitting up. He managed to swing his feet off the bed on to the floor. He sat there for a moment catching his breath. His right arm was throbbing, along with his side and head; all in perfect harmony. However, he kept going, his driving thought to get to Libby before they did something to her. He pushed himself to stand and made it. He remained upright for a full second before his knees crumbled and he fell to the floor.

Victoria heard the thump and came running into the room. ‘Heath," she cried. She hurried to kneel by his side. "Silas," she yelled.

Silas came running in and helped get Heath back into bed. Victoria looked at the bandage on Heath’s arm finding, noting it was soaked in blood again.

"Silas," she asked. "Please get me some clean water and more bandages." She looked down at Heath’s unconscious face, noticing it was pale. She unwrapped his arm and applied pressure to the wound. Silas brought the water and the two of them cleaned and wrapped the arm. Victoria watched as the fresh bandage started to turn red. However, it stopped and did not spread further. She sighed in relief. The bleeding appeared to have halted.

"Thank you Silas," she said. "I’m going to sit here for awhile to see if he comes around again."

Victoria and Audra took turns sitting with Heath the rest of the day, hoping he would gain consciousness. The Doctor came and went again warning Victoria that it was crucial to give the artery a chance to heal. Nick rode into town to meet Jarrod and pick up Libby’s remains.

Victoria was lightly napping in a chair by the bed when she heard Heath groan. She moved to sit on the side of the bed. Heath slowly opened his eyes and focused on her. "Mother," he said faintly.

"It’s all right Heath, I’m here," she said soothingly.

"Libby," Heath said. "Libby, I got to get to her." Heath struggling to rise.

Victoria placed a hand on his chest and said, "No. You must lay still. You mustn’t try to get out of bed."

Heath continued to try to rise. "Must get to Libby," he said haltingly. "Must get her … to bury her."

"Don’t worry Heath," Victoria said gently pressing him back into the pillows. "Nick and Jarrod have gone to get her, to bring her here. We’ll bury her in the field by your father."

"No," Heath cried out. "She belongs … have to … not here …," he muttered as he drifted out of consciousness.

Victoria smoothed back the hair from his forehead, wondering what was bothering him.

"We’ll bury her first thing in the morning Mother," Nick said at the dinner table.

"Thank you. I know Heath will feel better knowing she was properly taken care of," Victoria said.

Heath woke in the middle of the night. He felt better. His arm and side were still very sore but his head felt clearer. He tried to piece together what had happened. He skipped over the part of Libby’s death and went on from there. He remembered carrying her to the Doctors, going to the saloon and getting drunk, very drunk. After that things were pretty hazy. However, he knew there was something he was missing. Something. That’s it. Libby’s body, he thought. I have to get it. No, that was not quite right. He remembered Victoria saying something about the body. Yes, that was it. Nick and Jarrod went to get her body, he thought. They were going to bury her by father.

No, she shouldn’t be buried there, Heath thought in a panic. Strawberry. She had to be buried in Strawberry by her father. He had to get up. He had to get her to Strawberry. Heath slowly sat up, remembering to avoid using his right arm. He gingerly made his way to his feet. He thought about putting a shirt on and then changed his mind; to difficult. He opened his door and seeing no one around, made for the back staircase. He went out through the kitchen and headed slowly for the stable, stopping ever so often to catch his breath along the way. When he got into the stable he saw the coffin on the wagon. He wasn’t too late, he thought with relief. He walked over and leaned against the wagon’s side looking at the coffin. Oh Libby, he thought again, his mind filling with melancholy, his eyes with tears.

Nick heard Heath stumble past his room so he got up and followed him to the stable. He saw Heath leaning against the wagon, lost in grief. Nick walked up and put an arm around his brother’s shoulders. He remembered how much it hurt when Hester left him and could sympathize with his brother’s pain. Nick led Heath away from the wagon to a nearby hay-bale, forcing him to sit. Heath sat, his head bowed, staring at his feet. Nick sat on another bale, picking up a nearby horseshoe and absently fiddled with it. They sat in companionable silence for a while, Nick giving Heath time to compose himself. Finally, Nick broke the silence.

"We’re going to take her up to the grove and bury her by father tomorrow," Nick said thinking it would ease Heath’s mind.

"No," Heath said in a panicked tone of voice as he struggled to rise to his feet. Nick got up, placed a hand on Heath’s shoulder and forced him to sit again. Nick let go and leaned back against the wall. "All right. Easy. What do you want us to do? She has to be buried you know," Nick said.

Heath sighed and closed his eyes, trying to force back the tears that threatened to fall. He opened his eyes and stared at the straw on the ground. "I know she has to be buried," Heath said, his voice catching on the word buried. "But not here. In Strawberry, next to her father. That is where she belongs. That is where I have to take her," Heath said in desperation as he rose to his feet and took a few steps towards the wagon before falling to his knees again.

Nick went over and squatted in front of his brother. He put a hand on his shoulder, forcing Heath to look at him. "All right, we’ll take her to Strawberry. First thing tomorrow."

Heath stared back at Nick, his desperation plain as day in his eyes. "And I have to go with you. I have to be there. Promise me Nick. Swear you won’t take her without me. Swear to me Nick," Heath pleaded.

Nick swallowed and gripped Heath’s shoulder tighter. He couldn’t bear to see his brother in so much pain. "I swear Heath. I swear I won’t go without you."

Heath gave a half smile and sunk back on his knees, exhausted.

"Come on," Nick said rising to his feet. "Let’s get you back to the house," he said as he pulled Heath to his feet. "Lean on me." Nick noticed that the bandage around Heath’s forearm was soaked again. "Come on," he said gruffly, wrapping Heath’s good arm around his shoulder supporting him.

Victoria watched from the window as the two brothers slowly made their way back to the house.

"Out of the question," Victoria said at the breakfast table. "There is no way he is fit to travel. The Doctor said at least a week of bed rest. And what if that artery opens?"

"I know what the Doctor said Mother. I also know there is no way he going to let us bury her without him being there. And you know we can’t wait another week. Besides, I promised him Mother and I won’t go back on my word," Nick finished with emphasis.

Victoria didn’t know what to do. She appealed to Jarrod silently with her eyes.

"I’ll go along too Mother. Nick and I can prepare the grave. Heath can sit there quietly. Would that be suitable?" Jarrod asked.

"Perhaps we all should go along. As a family," Victoria said.

Nick thought about this and remembered how he felt when Hester left. He had wanted to be alone. Not surrounded by family. "No Mother," Nick said. "I think it would be best if you and Audra stayed home. I think Heath would prefer that."

Victoria looked at her son’s face. She could see he truly believed he was right in knowing what Heath would want. She decided to bow to his suggestion. "All right. But you two take care of him.

"No, I won’t have him going along," Heath said in an angry voice. "I don’t want him anywhere near her," Heath continued as Nick helped him into a shirt.

Nick pushed Heath back on to the bed, making him wince. "You don’t have any choice. He is coming. I don’t know what is going on between the two of you but you’d better get over it. Jarrod feels just as bad about this as you or I do. Meet us down stairs when you’re ready," Nick said as he turned and left the room.

Heath sat on the side of the bed fuming. It was bad enough Nick had to come along but Jarrod too? Heath tried to button his shirt with his good hand, giving up in frustration. He knew Nick was right, well at least about him not having a choice about Jarrod coming. He had made that abundantly clear. But Nick was also wrong. Heath had no intention of forgiving Jarrod for his role in Libby’s death.

Nick led the way on his horse while Jarrod and Heath followed in the wagon. Heath sat silently along side Jarrod as he drove, eyes closed for the most part. Every now and then he’d wince if they hit a bad rut in the road. Jarrod tried a few times to initiate a conversation but Heath pointedly ignored him. Finally, Jarrod gave up and they rode to Strawberry in silence.

They drove straight to the graveyard in Strawberry and got to work. Heath insisted on helping dig; neither Nick nor Jarrod could dissuade him. However, after Heath collapsed for the second time in the dirt, Nick took him back to the wagon and threatened to tie him up if he didn’t stay there. Heath sullenly complied.

The Nick and Jarrod placed the coffin in the hole and Heath joined them. They stood around, none of them knowing what to say. Finally, Jarrod started reciting a Psalm. "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want." Nick and Heath joined in and they finished together. At the conclusion, they bowed their heads for a moment of silence. Nick and Jarrod started to fill in the hole while Heath went back to the wagon. When they finished, they got the grave marker Jarrod had made. The three brothers walked over and Nick placed the marker at the head of the grave. They stood a few more moments in silence.

Nick cleared his throat. He gently slapped Heath on the back and led him back to the wagon. Jarrod assumed the reins and Nick mounted up. They headed towards home in the silence they came.

About 15 miles outside the ranch, Nick pulled up. "Jarrod," he said. "Will you be all right from here?"

"Of course. Why?" Jarrod questioned.

"I thought I’d swing up to the herd in the crosslands since I’m so close. See how they’re doing for water. I’ll camp there overnight and be back at the ranch by tomorrow afternoon," Nick replied.

"Sounds like a good idea. See you then," Jarrod replied as he clucked to the team and started off.

Jarrod drove the team into the deepening twilight, pushing them to hurry along. Suddenly, one of the team reared up in fright dragging the second horse with him. The wagon lurched and the back wheel made a loud crack. The horses reared again, snapping the traces and freeing them to run away. The wagon lurched and tipped, spilling Jarrod and Heath to the ground. Jarrod rolled and started to get to his feet when he heard a rattle. He froze, looking at the face of a rattlesnake, ready to strike.

When Heath felt the wagon tip he put his good arm out to break his fall. He hit hard anyway, his body screaming in pain. He shook his head trying to clear the pain. He looked around to see if Jarrod was all right. He spotted him, kneeling perfectly still. Heath looked closer and saw the rattler, poised to strike. Heath went for his gun with his left hand and hesitated. He couldn’t be sure his aim would be true left-handed, especially in this light, and he’d only get one shot. Heath changed his mind, tore his right arm loose from the sling and reached for his gun. He felt a tearing pain in his forearm has he drew his pistol, aimed and fired, cleanly severing the snake’s head. Jarrod rolled to the side out of the way when he heard the crack of the pistol. Shaking, Jarrod rose to his feet and hurried over to where Heath knelt doubled over in the dirt; his right arm pressed close to his body, his face contorted in pain. His gun lay in the dirt in front of him.

"Let me see Heath," Jarrod commanded. Jarrod had to pry Heath’s arm loose from his body. He looked at the bandage with dismay. A bright red stain was quickly seeping through the cloth. "Hold it tight against your body while I look for some more bandages, Jarrod said as he headed for the over-turned wagon. He found some dubiously clean rags and hurried back to Heath’s side. It was more important to stop the bleeding than anything else. Jarrod took off the wet bandages and examined the wound. It was pumping out blood in little spurts. Jarrod placed pressure on the arm the way he recalled being taught. The blood flow stemmed a bit. Finally, when it appeared it had stopped, Jarrod slowly released the pressure. He tightly packed the wound and rebandaged it. He looked in concern at Heath who had gone deathly pale under his tan.

"How are you doing Heath," Jarrod asked.

Heath didn’t answer. He was breathing with ragged gasps.

"Heath?" Jarrod said with concern.

Heath opened his eyes and looked at Jarrod; his pain evident. "I’ve been better," he replied with a wary grin.

Jarred decided moving any further tonight would be foolish. "We’ll make camp here and wait for morning," Jarrod said. He helped Heath move over to the shelter of a tree. "You rest here and do not to move that arm. I’ll go get some wood for a fire."

When he came back with the wood Heath was still laying in the same spot. Jarrod arranged the wood and got a match from his pocket. With a little coaxing he soon had a fire going. As the fire brought light to the gloom of the night, Jarrod looked closely at his brother. He realized, not only were the new bandages soaked, but the front of his shirt was bright red too, where the arm was pressed against it.

"Heath, " Jarrod said in a concerned tone. "It’s bleeding again. When did it start?" Jarrod asked as he went to his side.

"Don’t know," Heath replied groggily. "A while back I suppose," Heath replied as he drifted off in to an unconscious state.

Jarrod went to work on the wound again; praying his brother would not bleed to death.

"Didn’t you expect them back tonight Mother?" Audra asked.

"Well, I did, but I guess they decided to stay the night some place. It’s probably better for Heath that way," Victoria replied. "We’ll see them in the morning I’m sure."

The next morning came and went without any sign of the brothers. It was early afternoon and Victoria was getting very concerned when she heard a horse ride up. Looking out the front door she saw it was Nick. "Oh, Nick. I’m happy to see you. Where are Jarrod and Heath?"

"What da ya mean where are they?" Nick said as he entered the house. "We split up by Coleman’s pass. I went to check on the herd up there. Jarrod and Heath headed here. You mean to say they didn’t get in last night?" Nick queried.

"No," Victoria answered in a worried voice.

"Don’t worry Mother. I’ll get a fresh horse and ride out to look for them," Nick said as he sprinted for the stable.

Jarrod took off his shirt to make more bandages. Seemed like every time he thought it stopped bleeding, it would start again.

Heath stirred and opened his eyes partway.

"Don’t try to move Heath. It’s very important you don’t jostle your arm," Jarrod said

Heath closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them looking at Jarrod. "I’m sorry Jarrod. I’m sorry for everything I said to you. I was wrong."

"Quiet Heath. Lie still. You have nothing to be sorry about. In fact, I should be thanking you for saving my life from that snake back there," Jarrod said.

"It was mean and wrong of me to say all those things to you." Heath drawled. He sighed and continued "I was blinded by Libby's death. I was looking for someone to blame and I took it out on you. I’m sorry for what I said. You were only doing your job saving my ungrateful neck from the noose." Jarrod tried to shush him but Heath went on. "Libby always wanted something. She was always searching for more. First it was her father’s passion and then hers. And I don’t think she’d ever have found it. I’m not sure she really knew what it was she wanted, even after all these years," Heath mused. "I loved her and when I saw her back in town, I guess I thought we could pick up where we left off six years ago. But it wasn’t to be. And all’s my love did was bring her to her death."

"Heath," Jarrod said with compassion. "You didn’t kill her. She choose…" Jarrod stopped. Heath could no longer hear him. He’d slipped into unconsciousness. Jarrod prayed for someone to rescue them.

Nick rode his horse hard, following the trail back towards Strawberry. As moon rose, Nick thought he spotted something. A fire. Hurrying his horse in that direction, he came to the campsite of his brothers.

"Nick," Jarrod said springing to his feet and running to meet his brother. Nick dismounted and hugged his brother. Looking over Jarrod's shoulder he saw the still form of Heath. Breaking the embrace he asked "Heath?"

Jarrod ran a hand through his hair. "I don’t know. I think I’ve stopped the bleeding but he’s lost a lot of blood. You best go get the Doctor and bring him here. I’m afraid to move him.

"You gonna be all right here?" Nick asked.

"Yes, get going. And hurry," Jarrod replied.

Nick leapt on his horse and spurred him towards the town. Jarrod wearily walked back and sat down by Heath’s side to wait.

"Well, I figure you’re about 3/4 full-blooded Barkley at this point," Nick said to Heath as he lay in bed.

"Nicholas," Victoria admonished her son.

Heath looked at Nick, unsure how to take the comment.

"Yes, I’d say that Doctor pumped a good ¼ of Jarrod’s blood into you back out on the trail to keep you alive," Nick concluded with a laugh.

Everyone laughed and Victoria added, "Well it’s a good thing they used Jarrod’s and not yours. The last thing Heath needs is anymore of your mule-headedness.

"Mother," Nick said in a mock-hurt tone.

Victoria rose from the side of Heath’s bed and placed a kiss on Nick’s cheek. "Don’t worry," she said to Nick. ‘I love you, mule and all."

Everyone laughed again and left the room for Heath to rest. Jarrod was the last out.

"Get some rest," Jarrod said as he headed for the door.

"Jarrod wait," Heath said cocking and eyebrow at his brother. "Thank you, again."

"Your welcome. Oh, and by the way Nick’s wrong. You are and will always be 100% Barkley," Jarrod finished as he walked out the door.

Heath sighed and snuggled down in the bed. Thinking about Libby still hurt and he knew it would for a while yet to come. But he’d get over it. And he still had love, the love of a family.

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