They traveled continuously through the night, Heath’s fever continued rising, the pain he was under clear in his facial expressions, his outcries. His words were mumbled and disjointed memories. The recent past mixed with thoughts of years ago.

The worry in Nick’s face, the quiver in his voice as he tended to his little brother were not hidden from anyone in the vicinity. The strain of caring and concern taking its toll on all around the blonde man.

“Nick!” whispered Heath faintly.

“I’m here, Heath.” soothed Nick squeezing the smaller man’s shoulder tightly, looking into the vacant blue eyes.

“I shot Matt.”

“Everything’s gonna be fine Heath.”

“Frank?”

“Sawyer’s not here. He’s at home.” smiled Nick.

“Grandfather lost. I killed his chance.”

“You didn’t have a choice, little brother.”

“Wounded, killed him instead. I’m such a bastard.” whispered Heath, his eyes closing after a gasp of pain.

Grabbing Heath by the shoulders, Nick shook him and roared, “DON’T EVER CALL YOURSELF THAT AGAIN, BOY!!”

“NICK! STOP IT!” called Jarrod grabbing Nick’s arm. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying, Nick.”

Looking down at the waxen scarlet cheeked face, Nick bit back a sob and held Heath to his chest, cupping the drenched blonde hair, “Jarrod, he’s getting worse. Something’s wrong! The bullet mighta hit something inside. SOMETHING’S NOT RIGHT!”

“We’re only two or three hours out of Stockton. Tim, ride ahead and bring back Dr. Merar.” ordered Jarrod watching the man tie the horses to the back and spurring his mount away.

Hiriam’s shaky hand wiped the tears from his eyes. Pushing himself to a sitting position with Scotty’s help, he grabbed Heath’s limp hand.

“It’s Matt’s fault, not yours, Heath.” called Hiriam firmly. “Hear me, boy. It’s not your fault.”

Hiriam looked up into the tormented hazel eyes of Nick, “It’s all my fault, Nick. I shouldn’t have gone to Strawberry. I should’ve met Matt on neutral ground like Heath suggested.”

“It’s not your fault, Hiriam. None of us knew they’d react like that.” replied Nick wiping Heath’s face. “Heath’ll be okay, you’ll see. He’s tough as they come, right Scotty?”

Forcing a smile, Scotty nodded, “Yeah, the marshal boss is one tough cookie all right.”

Jarrod had never been so happy to see a man as he was to see Dr. Howard Merar riding towards them from a distance with Tim. Stopping the wagon, Howard climbed in the back and knelt by Heath’s side while Tim tied his buggy to a tree.

“When’s the last time he came to?” asked Howard unwrapping the bandage and frowning at the bruise which showed on the lean stomach. Probing gently with his fingers, caused a weak moan of pain.

“About three hours ago, doc.” whispered Nick.

“His fever’s high, his stomach’s distended and this bruise is an indication of internal bleeding. Nick, start a fire and boil some water. Jarrod and Scotty, help this man down and set up a place for him in the shade. I’ll need to keep Heath in the wagon.”

Jarrod and Scotty helped Hiriam down from the wagon to a spot under a tree. Scotty stayed beside the older man while Jarrod went back to the wagon. Howard looked around and pointed. “Move the wagon into the grass there and unhitch the horses.”

“Why, Dr. Merar?” asked Jarrod.

Nick stopped by the side of the wagon upon hearing Jarrod’s question. His hazel eyes narrowed at the look on the family physician’s face.

“It’s his appendix. The bullet must have nicked it. I’m gonna have to remove it and don’t want to take the chance on the horses moving while I’m performing surgery.” replied Howard moving the blankets lying in the back of the wagon. “I also don’t want any dust from the road rising up after I’ve opened him up.”

“Surgery? Can’t you wait til we get him back to your office?” asked Nick his voice filled with panic. “It’s not exactly sterile out here.”

“Boys, I’m surprised he’s still alive if you want the truth. It must be a very small nick and slowly seeping out blood. He can’t wait. I would if I could, but I can’t. Either way with surgery or not, Heath may not make it.”

“Hiriam wants to know about perhaps a transfusion.” called Scotty.

“Maybe after the surgery’s done if he needs it. He’s losing blood, but the damaged organ is also poisoning him. Luckily it hasn’t burst, however, it still has to come out.” stated Howard. “Who’s that man?”

“Heath’s grandfather. Long story.” stated Jarrod climbing into the driver’s seat and moving the horses to the spot Howard picked out. Jumping down, he unhitched the horses and picketed them on the grass on the other side of the road.

“Nick, take my place and keep talking to him.” ordered Howard grabbing his bag and walking to the fire.

Nick climbed up beside his little brother and held onto his left hand, leaning over to speak into Heath’s ear.

“Heath, it’s me, your shadow, boy. Dr. Merar thinks you might not make it. YOU AND I KNOW DIFFERENT, DON’T WE BOY? We didn’t travel this far for you to leave me running the ranch alone. No, we sure didn’t. You’re not a quitter, remember? You got that Barkley blood in you and BARKLEYS DON’T QUIT!”

Heath’s head moved slightly towards the buzzing in his left ear, Nick smiled and ran his hand through the short blonde hair.

“Sides the ranch, you got all those horses to train! Audra’s birthday’s next month and she’s gonna have a big shindig. I don’t really like parties but I love the beer we get to have and all that fine food.”

“All of Stockton’s beautiful ladies will be there. Course, you having short hair now, that might cut into some of those women making goggle eyes at you. That’s okay, cause leaves more for me.”

“When you get better, you gotta tell me what you did with all those hair ribbons. That’s a mystery and Mel is another mystery, I need your help solving.”

Leaning down, he placed a kiss on the hot forehead and whispered, “I love you, little brother. I’ll be waiting for you to wake up and growl at me.”

Nick gave the hand one final squeeze before relinquishing his spot to Dr. Merar. Jarrod climbed in and whispered into Heath’s ear. Taking the chloroform and cloth, Jarrod followed Howard’s instructions. Nick poured alcohol onto the doctors hands.

“Thanks, Nick.” smiled Howard. “Why don’t you wait by Heath’s grandfather, I’m sure he’s very frightened.”

Nick hesitated, looked up at Jarrod who nodded and called out. “Nick is gonna wait by Hiriam. I’m right here, brother Heath.”

“Heath, make a liar out of me and I’ll make sure you have the assistance of a pretty nurse during your recovery.” shouted Howard before taking hold of his scalpel.

Nick placed the bottle onto the wagon bed and sat beside the older man. Wrapping an arm across Hiriam’s shoulder, Nick felt the trembling in the man.

“He’s gonna be okay, Hiriam. You’ll see.” whispered Nick, his throat hoarse and constricted with lumps of emotion. “Heath’ll be up and around in no time at all.”

Hiriam closed his eyes and his lips moved silently. His prayer for only the ears of the one above them, not for mortal ears. Tim and Scotty hung their heads sending their thoughts upwards pleading for their marshal boss to be allowed to stay.

Heading behind the rundown buildings, the three men headed up the alley between the hotel and closed general store. Barrett and Blake watched from the sides of a dirty window at the drama unfolding across the room.

Hiriam shouted and pushed Heath to the side before his body jerked where it fell to the floor and lay unmoving from an invisible blow to the back. The old tan hat rolled to the side, leaving his salt and peppered hair uncovered.

Heath saw the assailants running in from the adjoining room as he was falling to the ground, his hands flashed downwards for his guns. Falling on his back, he rolled and sprang to a standing position, guns in both hands. Firing one of the two men turned the blonde marshal briefly to the right with a bullet. Heath’s right elbow clutched to his side as his guns sounded, the reports sounded as one from the closeness of them.

Blake’s eyes were riveted on the two men who jerked and fell backwards onto the floor, muscles relaxed in the instant death. The blonde marshal put his guns back into the twin holsters and knelt beside his grandfather, his back to the window.

“Jesus, he’s fast.” whispered Barrett.

Taking out his gun, Blake smiled, “Now’s as good a time as any.”

The sound of horses galloping up the street startled the two men at the window. Turning, they grabbed the attorney and fled around the corner as the horses galloped by. Running to their horses, they took off into the trees, not knowing if they were being pursued or not.

Barrett pulled up after ten minutes and looked back over their trail. The landscape was empty of men and horses.

“Damn. That was a good opportunity.” muttered Blake taking a drink from his canteen. “That marshal is fast! This is gonna be a challenge.”

“A challenge?” asked Ted incredulously. “Does that mean you can’t take him?”

“I can take him! I can take anyone, lawyer.” smirked Blake. “This just makes it more fun. I haven’t been up against a worthy opponent in a long time.”

Barrett stated, “The Barkleys will take them back to Stockton. I don’t think they’re hurt that bad.”

“Maybe we should hit them on the way to Stockton?” suggested Ted.

Blake snorted, “You crazy? There’s four of them, maybe six if the other two aren’t hurt that bad. Even from ambush, can you shoot six men before they shoot you? I know I can’t.”

Blushing, Ted shook his head. “No, I can’t. What are we gonna do?”

“We’ll head back to Stockton. Another opportunity will present itself, don’t worry.” stated Blake turning his horse towards the south. “Lots of things can happen out here in the wild west.”

Barrett laughed and nudged his horse to follow. Ted closed his eyes briefly, wishing he was anywhere in the world but California. He followed behind his thoughts betraying his reluctance.

‘Other than the forged will, I haven’t done anything wrong. Maybe I can destroy it. It’d be Sheila’s word against mine! Stealing from an old man is one thing, killing people is another.’

Looking up, Ted’s face paled when he saw Blake’s eyes on him. The black eyes were narrowed to mere slits, his disconcerting stare telling Ted Folcom, Benton knew exactly what he was thinking.

Wiping his forehead, Ted’s smiled was nervous and forced, “Sure is hot country.”

The smile on the tanned face was cold and evil, “It’s hotter in hell, lawyer. Cross me and you’ll find out faster than you’d expect.”

Turning, Blake nudged his horse beside Barrett, leaving his back exposed to the panicked man behind them. Ted felt his hand itch in anticipation of the open target, then he sighed and his shoulders signified his defeat. He couldn’t and wouldn’t. He was encased in the jail he’d made for himself when Sheila Pierson smiled and stroked his ego.

As the trio rode into Stockton from the south earlier in the day, Dr. Merar was closing the incision on the wounded Heath Thomson on the eastern road leading to home.

The damaged organ removed, the internal bleeding stopped. Howard was satisfied with the surgery, however, he knew Heath was not out of the woods by any means. Blood loss and fevered infection robbed the strong man of his strength, sapping the mighty reserve he’d built over the years.

The damage was done and repaired, now could he recover and make his way back. Could he scale the walls that held him in the pit of weakness? Could he make it back to take the look of guilt out of his grandfather’s eyes, the look of bleakness out of Jarrod’s eyes? Could he make it back to take the terrified look out of Nick’s eyes?

Howard took the sleeping inducer from Jarrod and put it in his bag. Heath’s bloody pants and shirt, previously cut off were taken and discarded with the nonworking body organ. Folding the blankets except for two, Howard covered his patient hoping to stave off the after effects of the surgery and prevent shock from setting in.

“Jarrod, keep an eye on Heath. I’m gonna check on his grandfather.” stated Howard receiving only a nod from the prophetic lawyer whose face was almost as pale as his unconscious brother’s.

Nick stood up when Dr. Merar approached, his hazel eyes beseeching the family physician, “Time will tell now, Nick. Why don’t you help Jarrod keep an eye on him for me?”

Swallowing the constriction in his throat, Nick whispered, “Sure, doc. Oh, this is Hiriam Thomson, Heath’s grandfather. He took a bullet in the shoulder. Hiriam, Dr. Merar.”

Patting Nick on the arm, Howard smiled, “Okay. Scotty, help me with Hiriam’s shirt.”

Working together, the two men stripped the shirt off and Howard removed the once white bandage. He worked quickly cleaning and rebandaging the wound. Satisfied, he helped Hiriam into his shirt. “You’ll be sore for a while, but it should heal up nicely. I don’t have any cloth for a sling so we are going to use the middle area of your shirt til we get back to Stockton.”

Sliding Hiriam’s hand into his shirt, Howard rebuttoned the shirt. Taking out a bottle of laudanum and a spoon, he administered the painkiller.

“How is Heath?” asked Hiriam quietly.

Sighing, Howard looked into the brown eyes, “Heath’s a strong man. He made it through the operation better than I anticipated he would. He needs time to replenish his blood supply. I’m hoping he’ll be able to do that on his own without a transfusion.”

Howard jumped up at the concerned shout from Nick and Jarrod, ran to the wagon and climbed into the back.

“He started breathing really fast, his heart’s racing!” stammered Nick with a strong hold on Heath’s hand.

“Dang it, Heath! Don’t do this, boy.” muttered Howard listening with his stethoscope. “His pulse is too high. He’s going into shock. Jarrod elevate his legs, Nick roll up your sleeve. We’ll have to do a transfusion. He’s lost too much blood with the injury and surgery.”

Nick sat where directed and rolled up his sleeve, Howard pulled Heaths left arm out from under the blankets and attached the tubing to both arms. Nick talked quietly to Heath as the life driving liquid drained into his little brother. Jarrod raised Heath’s legs using the saddlebags and clutched a hand onto Nick’s shoulder, passing his support onto both brothers.

Howard glanced back towards the tree and saw Hiriam being laid on the ground by Scotty and Tim. The laudanum taking effect on the older man, plunging him into a healing pain free sleep.

The inflow of precious red liquid into the unconscious man worked it’s magic. Heath’s heart slowed in its racing, his breaths slowed and his pulse slowly started to return to a normal rhythm. His face was resuming a look of almost normalcy, taking away the paperthin waxen look.

Grinning widely, Howard took off his stethoscope and nodded, “Once I disconnect the tubing, Nick. I need you to lay down and rest.”

“I wanna be awake when Heath open his eyes.” protested Nick.

“You will be, Nick. Giving blood will make you weak. You need to rest and drink plenty of water. Jarrod, you can start hitching up the team. I wanna get our patients to the office before dark.”

The ride into Stockton was slow and the afternoon late when the wagon pulled up in front of the office of Dr. Merar. Scotty went inside and grabbed a stretcher. Putting the still unconscious Heath on it, Nick and Jarrod carried their little brother inside.

“HEATH!” gasped Melinda Rankin, the sight of the unaware man caused her eyes to well with tears.

“Mommy, is that Marshal Thomson?” asked Timmy, his face quivering with fright.

Nick stopped suddenly at the sight of the fear on the young boy’s face. Howard replaced Nick’s place on the end of the stretcher, toting their cargo into a different room.

Kneeling, Nick looked into the young lad’s eyes, “Marshal Thomson’s gonna be okay, Timmy. Don’t worry, now.”

“What happened?” asked Timmy rubbing his eye with a bandaged hand.

Looking at the hand, Nick smiled, “What happened to you?”

“I cut my hand on some metal. I was making a badge.” explained Timmy.

“Was it a marshal’s badge?” queried Nick.

“Yep. But it didn’t work.” replied Timmy sadly.

Melinda smiled and stroked the red hair, “You’re not going to try that again, are you Timmy?”

“No ma’am.” whispered Timmy. “Mr. Barkley, is the marshal gonna be okay?”

Nodding, Nick winked, “He’s gonna be laid up for a while but he’ll be fine. Tell you what Timmy, you promise to stay away from metal and I’ll talk to Heath, uh, Marshal Thomson and see if we can’t rustle you up a genuine badge, okay?”

The young face lit up with hope and happiness at the prospect of a badge. “Really, Mr. Barkley?”

“Really.” smiled Nick standing. “Mrs. Rankin, Dr. Merar says Heath may be able to have visitors in a couple days.”

“Thank you, Mr. Barkley.” smiled Melinda holding out her hand. “I’ll be sure to stop in.”

Turning, Melinda left with Timmy and Nick rubbed his hands together, “Oh, little brother, when you’re feeling better, we gotta talk. Mel, my foot, more like Melinda!”

From the Barkley ranch to the town of Stockton by horseback was a one way trip of an hour. By surrey, the one-way ride could stretch out to one and a half hours. Scotty and Tim headed to the Barkley ranch by horseback to deliver the news of Heath’s condition to the Barkley matriarch.

Jarrod and Nick mentally calculated their Mother would arrive in approximately three hours. One hour for the boys to reach the ranch, another one to two hours for their Mother to make it back to Stockton.

However, to their surprise she rushed into the room which housed her still unconscious son two hours later with Jack Larkin following quickly on her heels. Both sides of the road had been burned up by the two different parties. The condition of their marshal boss and the condition of her son and a friend, the common priority of the two groups.

Nick and Jarrod jumped up from the bedside at the sight of their Mother, stopping in their tracks at the sight of Marshal Jack Larkin. Victoria waved off the matching question in their eyes for the moment and Howard advised Victoria of Heath’s condition, the emergency surgery and transfusion.

“I’m worried Victoria. Heath should’ve woken up by now.” admitted Howard.

Standing beside the bed, Victoria ran her fingers through the blonde hair, “Heath, open your eyes for Mother. Come on sweetheart, you’re scaring Dr. Merar and your brothers.”

Victoria spoke for several minutes, all eyes in the room widened when Heath moved his head slightly and moaned. Stepping closer to the bed, the men in the room watched as Victoria’s motherly presence brought Heath back from oblivion to a pain-filled world.

“Mother.” whispered Heath his head moving from side to side as the pain in his body increased. “Mama.”

“I’m here, Heath. Mama’s here.” assured Victoria her gray eyes filled and droplets of water spilled onto her cheeks. “Open your eyes.”

Heath fought to obey his mama’s voice resonating in his ears. He couldn’t stop the pained moans which escaped from within him, his body felt weak and trod upon. The pain was building up as he scaled further up the dark wall.

Opening his eyes, he blinked and fought the crescendo now playing in his body. Gasping, he clenched the bedsheet with a tight fist and shuddered.

Looking into the gray eyes, his lips trembled into a small smile, “Mama…stole…my …clothes?”

Victoria laughed and placed a delicate kiss on his warm forehead, “I think Dr. Merar did, sweetheart.”

Looking around at the familiar room in the office of Dr. Merar, Heath’s confusion reflected in his blue pools and his brow furrowed from pain and thought, “Not..Strawberry?”

Howard smiled as he held a spoon of laudanum in front of Heath, chuckling at the narrowing of the blue eyes at the sight of the pain killer. “Heath, you need to rest. We’ll answer your questions later.”

“Twit..brain…like…Nick.” whispered Heath, his small smirk at his scowling brother turning into a gasp of pain.

“Just take the damn medicine, Heath!” snarled Nick, the anguish of watching his brother in pain ripping open his heart.

“Nicholas, your language!” admonished Victoria.

“Sorry, Mother.” mumbled Nick, glaring at Jarrod’s sparkling eyes of amusement. “Stubborn..cantakerous..”

Nick’s words of brotherly description were welcomed by the younger blue-eyed brother who weakly squeezed the giant hand holding his. The expressive eyes telling Nick all he needed to know.

Taking the laudanum, Heath sipped some water and smiled weakly. His body relaxing, his eyes widening at the sight of his former boss standing by the doorway Dr. Merar had just departed through.

Staring at Jack, Heath cocked his head slightly as he remembered, his words slurred as he fought his closing eyelids.

“Grandfather?”

“He’s fine, Heath. He’s resting.” assured Jarrod with a smile.

“Jack…Jed…Parker…Nick…other…one” gasped Heath weakly tugging the large hand.

“The other man with Matt Simmons in Strawberry, Heath?” asked Nick receiving a nod before the laudanum closed his eyes and stole the weakened Heath into a deep sleep.

“Who’s Jed Parker?” inquired Nick. Victoria and Jarrod saw the look of shock on Jack Larkin’s face.

“Nick, is Parker in Strawberry?” asked Jack anxiously.

Nodding, Nick replied, “Yeah, six feet under. Heath killed him and his uncle, Simmons, yesterday. They shot Heath and his grandfather. Who’s Parker?”

Victoria closed her eyes and shook her head at the news of what transpired to leave her son in this condition. Later, she would ask Nick and Jarrod to fill in the missing gaps of information.

“My god.” whispered Jack pacing the room.

“What is it Marshal Larkin?” inquired Jarrod his voice filled with anxiety and tension. “Who’s Jed Parker?”

Stopping, Jack faced the family and sighed deeply. “Jed Parker was the fifth rustler in the gang Heath was after before his mother was murdered. It was Parker’s brother, Terry, who Dan Nichols let escape and followed Heath to Strawberry. Terry was the man who murdered Heath’s mother.”

“What was this Parker doing with Heath’s uncle?” asked Victoria. Her spoken question hung in the room for all to hear, the conclusion revolting in each of their minds.

“Simmons was in with them? Matt Simmons knew and let that animal murder his own sister?” asked Nick through clenched teeth. “HE LET PARKER’S BROTHER KILL HEATH’S MAMA? WHAT KIND OF SICK MAN DOES THAT?”

“Nick, calm down!” urged Jarrod, his dark haired brother’s face blazing red with fury.

“DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN, JARROD!” exclaimed Nick pulling out of his brother’s hold, gesturing wildly, his hazel eyes on the verge of tears, his body shaking uncontrollably.

“I’M THE ONE WHO FORCED HEATH TO GO BACK THERE FOR THE SAKE OF HIS GRANDFATHER! ME, I DROVE HIM TO IT!! BIG BROTHER DROVE LITTLE BROTHER TO TALK TO THE MAN WHO STOOD BY WHILE HIS OWN SISTER WAS BRUTALLY ATTACKED AND MURDERED! GOD, WHAT KIND OF BROTHER AM I?”

Jarrod wrapped his strong arms around Nick and held onto his tense, struggling brother, “You’re the best brother Heath could ever wish for Nick. The best and Heath knows it too. Don’t do this to yourself. Listen to Pappy. Heath didn’t know so how could you? Don’t do this, please Nick.”

The shaking turned into sobs of pain and horror at the unspeakable act committed by one sibling onto another. The emotional shock almost too much for the strong, family minded, virile Nick Barkley to comprehend, to fathom. The shock sending him reeling, his knees weakening as he clung to Jarrod and the brothers slid to the floor.

Victoria’s own shaking knees forced her to slump into a chair, her face white as the sheets on the bed, tears streamed down her face taking the same trail as the ones on Jarrod’s face.

The next morning, Hiriam opened his eyes slowly and wiped away the lingering effects of the medicinal sleep. Looking around the room, his remembrance came rushing back. His left arm was encased in a sling and throbbing heavily from the wound.

Sitting up carefully, he fought the dizziness from the movement and swung his legs over the side of the bed. A robe lay on a chair beside the bed. Shaky legs made their way to the chair, putting his right arm in the sleeve of the robe, Hiriam struggled with wrapping the robe around his back and over his left shoulder. Cursing softly, he was startled by Dr. Merar’s admonishment from the open doorway.

“I don’t think the robe can answer you, Mr. Thomson.”

Smiling, Hiriam shook his head, “If it does, Dr. Merar, I’ll be on the next train back east faster than you can blink.”

Walking over, Howard wrapped the robe around the older man. “Were you planning on going somewhere?”

“Yes, I’d like to see my grandson.” replied Hiriam. “Thank you for helping him. You’re a very skilled physician. Not many in your profession would have chanced operating in the open like that.”

“That’s very kind of you to say, Mr. Thomson. Sometimes we have no choice in how things are done. A strong will to live and luck are the main reasons Heath is still with us.” stated Howard. “He’s resting but I’ll take you to his room for a little while. You need to rest also.”

Hiriam walked beside Dr. Merar to the next room. Entering, he was greeted by Mrs. Barkley who was sitting at Heath’s bedside reading from a book. Walking over, he held his grandson’s hand and took in the peaceful, resting face.

Howard brought another chair over and placed it beside Victoria’s. “Mr. Thomson, ten minutes then back to your room.”

Hiriam winked, “I do think I’ll have a hard time prying myself away from this lovely lady’s company, doctor.”

Chuckling softly, Victoria smiled, “Why thank you, Mr. Thomson. I am sure Howard will have no problem strong arming you back to your room.”

Shaking his finger at her, Howard tsked her, “Victoria, you make me sound more like a warden than a doctor. My reputation will be in shambles. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

Nodding, Hiriam sat in the chair and smiled, “Has Heath woken yet, Mrs. Barkley?”

“Yes, he wanted to know who stole his clothes.” advised Victoria with a smile. “He was only awake for a few minutes until the laudanum took affect.”

“I was very worried about him.” admitted Hiriam. “He looks a hundred times better than the last time I saw him.”

“Heath is a very strong man, Mr. Thomson. He’ll be back to work before he should be.” stated Victoria. “I’m terribly sorry your trip to Strawberry ended this way.”

Frowning, Hiriam sighed, “Well, it’s my own fault. I should’ve deferred to Heath’s suggestions instead of rushing in. I thought with my heart instead of my head and it could have killed us both.”

Placing a hand on his arm, Victoria said quietly, “From what I understand, no one could have foreseen the events which occurred. Not you or Heath. Please don’t blame yourself, Mr. Thomson. There seems to be enough of that going around already.”

Hiriam’s brown eyes showed his gratitude for her kind words, “I know the past can’t be changed. I just wanted to let loose some old ghosts and perhaps have the opportunity to sit down with Matthew.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“What am I going to do now, Mrs. Barkley?” repeated Hiriam thinking on the question. “When Heath is able, we will have to discuss our futures. I am quite a wealthy man and Heath’s my only heir. He stands to inherit everything. This is what we’ll be discussing.”

Victoria and Hiriam stood up as they heard a soft voice from the bed, “I don’t want any of it, Hiriam. Go back to Virginia.”

Hiriam’s face was puzzled and he glanced at Victoria, “Mrs. Barkley, may I have a moment of privacy with Heath?”

“Certainly.” said Victoria leaned over and kissed her blonde son’s cheek. “Nick and Jarrod are resting at the hotel. I’ll talk to Dr. Merar about another dose of laudanum.”

“Ahhh, Mother.” groaned Heath at the thought of the pain killer. “I’m okay.”

“Humor me.” smiled Victoria gently. “I’ll be right outside sweetheart.”

Waiting until Victoria left the room, Hiriam asked quietly, “Heath, you are my only living relative. You’re entitled to everything.”

Looking away from the older man, Heath closed his eyes, “I think it’d be best if you went back east. There’s no reason for you to be here now.”

Snorting, Hiriam anger could not be kept out of his voice, “I believe that is for me to determine, Heath. I thought we came to an understanding about building a base together on the trail to Strawberry.”

“Go home, Hiriam.” growled Heath turning to look into the brown eyes.

Angered brown eyes pierced the pain filled blue eyes, both men kept their gazes locked, unwilling to look away. The blue eyes reflected surprise when a chuckle escaped from the owner of the brown eyes.

“Thank you, Heath.”

“What are you thanking me for? Killing your son and your quest for answers?” asked Heath incredulously.

Perching himself on the edge of the bed, Hiriam shook his head. “No, for again trying to protect me.”

Heath felt confusion mix in with pain and his hand reached up to rub his eyes. His voice was strained and exhausted, “You don’t understand, Hiriam.”

Taking a hold of Heath’s right hand, Hiriam squeezed it gently, his brown eyes were pleading, “You are correct. I don’t understand everything going through your mind at this very moment, Heath. What I do understand is you had no choice except to protect us in Strawberry. I made a grievous error and placed you in that position. It was my lack of patience which set the wheels in motion.”

“I could have wounded him, Hiriam. I could have…” Heath’s words stopped by his grandfather’s denial in the form of a shaking head.

“Isn’t a wounded animal much more dangerous, Heath?” inquired Hiriam softly. His brown eyes filled with sadness and his voice trembled.

“What are you saying?” asked Heath, his voice stunned.

“I had a lot of hopes pinned on seeing my son again. As one ages, they want to hold their family close to them and savor the memories.” paused Hiriam for a few moments, his eyes looking far into the past.

“I remember Matthew as a child, just like it was yesterday. When I sent him away, he was ten years old and had a mean streak in him. Even at that young age, he treated Leah like a second class citizen. The consequence of punishment was no deterrent. I failed as a parent miserably. Then to have sent him away after his mother’s death, well, if I had kept him by my side, perhaps, I could have loved that character flaw out of him.”

“I’m a foolish old man who wanted so much to believe his son would be a man young boys could look up to. A man who prided himself on the contributions he willingly gave to his family, friends and community. It was a dream. I knew the reality but wasn’t capable of accepting it.”

The sadness and turmoil in the brown eyes shivered Heath’s very soul. “There’s nothing foolish about it Hiriam. Everyone should have dreams. Everyone.”

Smiling slightly, Hiriam gave his grandson’s hand a gentle squeeze, “What are your dreams, Heath? Lots of children? What are they? Will you share them with me?”

Sighing, Heath nodded and tried to sit up in the bed. His movement sending a wave of pain through him. Hiriam pushed him tenderly back onto the bed with a firm hand.

“Dr. Merar will skin me alive if you open your stitches.” teased Hiriam.

Waiting until the waves receded, Heath smiled as Hiriam wiped the sweat from his forehead. Looking into the brown eyes, his voice was quiet, “Until I quit the marshal service, I never dared to dream.”

“Why not?” queried Hiriam softly.

“The work’s dangerous and lonely. I was good at it and thought I’d be doing it forever. I wouldn’t allow myself to dream of any future with a wife or children.”

“Then you found your father’s family?”

A wide smile flashed on Heath’s pale face, “They found me actually. I came to town toting the man who had killed their father. I didn’t know he was my father, too. Anyway, things happened and I was injured badly. In fact, I laid in this same room quite a long time wondering if I’d walk again or not.”

“I eventually left the marshal service to become a rancher. It’s taken a few months, but I have found that I’m daring to dream.”

“Of what, Heath?”

“I’m having dreams of inner peace, grandfather. Dreams of inner peace.” replied Heath, his voice weakening in volume from the lengthy conversation which was taxing his strength.

“Finding the family and living with them, it can’t really be described. They have given so much to me, not in terms of money. I don’t care about money, but in terms of love, acceptance. They’ve given me the chance to dream again.”

Smiling, Hiriam nodded, “I can see the love for you in their eyes, Heath and in your eyes, the same sparkles.”

Pulling the blanket up, Hiriam sighed, “I want you to rest now. I’m surprised Dr. Merar hasn’t pulled me out of this room by my ears yet.”

Chuckling softly, Heath winced at the pain he caused himself. “Ouch, don’t make me laugh, grandfather.”

Smiling at the title bestowed upon him, Hiriam sat in the chair and watched the lids close over the sapphire eyes. Heath’s even breathing could be heard through the room.

Hiriam’s voice was soft, “I may have lost my son, but like the Barkleys, I have found you Heath and my heart is overflowing with love again.”

Sheila Pierson walked down the boardwalk of Stockton. Her beautiful face smiled as she greeted the citizens she met. Inwardly, she was seething with fury at the news Hiriam Thomson and his grandson were still alive. Blake relayed the lack of opportunity presented to him and the other two men. He calmly stated there was still time and nothing had changed.

Her thoughts darkened severely when she thought of Ted Folcom. He was becoming a weak link in their chain and would need to be dealt with soon. Reaching the building which housed the office of Dr. Merar, Sheila knocked and stared at the man who opened the door, his marshal badge displayed proudly on his chest.

“I’d like to see Hiriam Thomson, please.” stated Sheila.

“Sure, come on in.” smiled Jack. “Dr. and Mrs. Merar were busy so I answered the door, miss. They’ll be right out.”

Entering the waiting room, Sheila sat daintily on the sofa and glanced around the small waiting room. “I didn’t know Stockton had a marshal.”

Shaking his head, Jack replied, “They don’t. I’m on, well, a working vacation. Stopped by to visit an old friend.”

“Heath Thomson was a former marshal. Are you visiting him?” queried Sheila innocently.

“Sure am and he was one of the best, too.” said Jack, his eyes shining. “Miss, please excuse my manners. I am Jack Larkin.”

Shaking the extended hand gently, Sheila smiled, “I’m Sheila Pierson. Mr. Thomson’s secretary, Mr. Larkin. Pleasure to meet you.”

The outside door burst open and Nick strode in the room. His hazel eyes looked at Jack, suspicion clearly marked in them. His progress towards Heath’s former boss was stopped at sight of the woman seated on the couch.

“Morning, ma’am.” stated Nick nodding his head in greeting. Moving to stand in front of the marshal, Nick shook the hand extended in friendship.

“Hi, Nick.”

“Jack.” mumbled Nick, his fists resting on this slim hips.

Seeing the stance of the formidable Barkley, Jack sighed and reclined against the wall, waiting for the inquisition he knew was forthcoming. Inwardly, he smiled at the sight of the large man giving off the protective vibes. Protectiveness for his new little brother, the man who worked and breathed by his side on the Barkley ranch.

“What are you doing in Stockton?” asked Nick quietly. “You’re not trying to steal my brother are you? Cause if you think that’s gonna happen, you better start relooking at the cards you hold in your hand.”

Wiping his face to hide the smile that crossed his lips, Jack replied, “Would I do something like that, Nick?”

Raising an eyebrow, the hazel eyes burned into the eyes of his little brother’s former boss.

“Nick, you know no one can make Heath do what he doesn’t want to do.” chided Jack, surprised at the wounded look which flashed in the hazel eyes. The large man’s hands fell down to the side and he closed his eyes briefly.

Jack replied quickly, “I’m kidding, Nick. I’m just passing through and wanted to see how Heath was doing. That’s all.”

Nodding, Nick smiled slightly, “Good. I’d hate to have to run you off the ranch, you being a lawman and all.”

Clapping Nick on the shoulder, Jack smiled, “Dr. Merar’s gonna get me when he’s done looking at Heath. Why don’t you go in first?”

“Thanks, Jack.” mumbled Nick, his brow furrowed in thought. “I gotta talk to him.”

The men stood beside each other and talked sparingly, both deep with their own thoughts. Jack wondered about the wounded look in the strong man’s eyes. Something had happened to put that look there. Jack knew it had to do with Heath’s trip to Strawberry and how Nick had been tormented about Jed Parker’s relationship to Matt Simmons.

Nick stood beside Jack Larkin, his stomach twisted in knots, growing tighter and tighter overnight. He'd been unable to sleep, his dreams kept relaying a different outcome to what occurred in Strawberry. The outcome changing from Heath’s recovery to his death. The dreams frightening the larger man, he was afraid to shut his eyes and stayed up in the room going over what happened.

The inner door opened and Howard Merar smiled at the full waiting room. Walking over to the woman, he stopped by the men. “Nick and Jack, Heath is awake if you wanna go in for a little while.”

Looking at Nick hesitating, Jack pulled on his arm, “Go on, Nick. You look like you need to talk to Heath more than I do right now.”

“Thanks, Jack.”

Walking into the inner hallway, Nick took a deep breath and entered the room. Heath looked up and grinned at the sight of his big brother, his grin turning quickly to a frown. The circles under Nick’s eyes, plain for the blonde to see.

“Boy howdy, Nick. You look like something the cat drug in. You want me to have Dr. Merar reserve a room for you?”

Shaking his head, Nick sat on the bed. “How you feeling, Heath?”

“I’m okay.” replied Heath automatically even though his belly felt like Charger had stepped on it. “What’s wrong, Nick?”

“Who said anything’s wrong?” gruffed Nick his gaze falling onto the white bandage around his brother’s middle.

“Nick?” inquired Heath softly after several minutes of quiet from the large man. “What is it?”

“Damn, it’s all my fault, Heath. It was my idea you go to your uncle with your grandfather. I’m sorry, Heath. I know saying sorry doesn’t make up for it, but I don’t know what else to do or say.” admitted Nick, his voice trembling with unchecked emotion.

“Nick, I’d have gone anyway. You don’t have anything to be sorry for. Nothing.” stated Heath firmly. “Nick, look at me!”

The hazel eyes slowly raised into the blue ones. Heath saw the anguish there and grabbed a hold of the larger man’s hand.

“Until that day, I had no idea Uncle Matt knew the Parker’s. Not one! I was on their trail for months and I missed it, Nick. The marshal sworn to protect the citizens, missed what was in front of his face.” informed Heath quietly. “Uncle Matt was not a good person. He never had a decent bone in his body. I don’t know how someone could ever do such a horrid thing to their own sister.”

Looking away, Heath closed his eyes to stop the tears from spilling out. His shoulders shook with the strong emotions, his heart pounded in his chest.

Nick pulled the shaking man to his chest and held on tightly. Heath welcomed the strength, the comfort offered by his brother, and ignored the flaring pain from the movement.

“Nick, I can’t tell grandfather. He can’t know what Matt did. It’s horrible enough as it is, I can’t put him through the rest of the truth.” whispered Heath.

Patting Heath’s back, Nick nodded, “Okay, we won’t tell him any more than he knows right now. I’ll talk to Mother and Jarrod about it, too. ”

“Good. Now, promise me, Nicholas Barkley. Promise me, you will stop feeling guilty. It’s not your fault either.” stated Heath, pulling back and looking deeply into the hazel eyes.

“As long as you promise me the same thing and don’t call me Nicholas.” teased Nick with a slight grin.

Snorting, Heath rolled his eyes, “There’s lots of other things I can think of to call ya’ but for now I’ll settle for Nick.”

Chuckling, Nick’s eyes narrowed at the twinge of pain which showed quickly in Heath’s pale face. “Time for more laudanum and a long nap, little brother.”

Heath groaned and urged, “Nick, get me outta this place. I hate taking that stuff.”

An evil smile spread across the tanned face and Heath frowned, “Only if you tell me all about how Melinda Rankin came to be the person who cut your hair, little brother. Spill the beans and then I’ll see what I can do.”

Glaring at Nick, Heath snapped, “Forget it! Just give me some laudanum, twit brain.”

Laughing, Nick patted the pale cheek and smiled, “I’ll be right back with the medicine.”

Heath’s eyes lit up with happiness as Nick’s laughter followed him out of the room, narrowing at the sight of Dr. Merar with a brown bottle and a spoon.

....Continued