Sheila paced around the small room of the outlying Barkley line shack, every twenty steps she stopped in front of the open door and watched for the two riders. Smiling, she let her mind anticipate the money she’d be inheriting and how she’d spend it.

Barrett had turned out to be a fountain of information for Blake and Sheila. The time spent on the Barkley ranch, his knowledge of the ranch layout were advantageous to the two evil scheming people. Barrett was the one who suggested staying in the line shack which was only used towards the fall. His payment for his help was to be five thousand dollars. Of course, as Blake pointed out, he’d have to live to collect it.

The plan devised was to throw the Barkley family, specifically former Marshal Heath Thomson, off guard and off balance. As Blake put it, with one hand he is distracted while the other hand strikes when his head is turned. Benton knew how dangerous a man like Heath could be and was relishing in the challenge he was up against.

The first part of their plan was put into motion today by the killing of Nick Barkley, the brother with whom he was the closest. Unexpected and uncalled for. This action alone would send Heath Thomson reeling.

Getting a hold of Hiriam Thomson would be the next step. The old man would sign a will leaving all his worldly belongings to his devoted secretary, Sheila Pierson. If he didn’t sign it willingly, one could always find some way to persuade him.

Scouting the ranch, Barrett had seen the activities of the family and their guests. Hiriam had to be alone at some point – all they had to do was wait.

The sound of a horse brought her to the window and she peered out. Her smile wide as Blake rode up and dismounted.

“Where’s Barrett?” inquired Sheila before receiving a crushing kiss on the lips.

“He’s making sure we aren’t trailed back here.” said Blake. “Nick Barkley is still alive.”

“WHAT!” shouted Sheila. “YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO KILL HIM!”

“He moved at the last possible moment but he’s hurt.” smirked Blake pulling her into his arms. “He’ll be out of commission for a while, I’m betting. After Thomson, he’s the next most dangerous person on the ranch.”

“Well, I guess it’s better than nothing.” sighed Sheila. “Next time I want to come. I’m sick of waiting.”

“Alright, next time.” agreed Blake pulling her into the cabin and shutting the door behind him.

Scotty and Heath rode towards Pine Meadow at a canter. Heath had dispatched Joe to meet up with Sheriff Maden and bring him to the place they were headed. Reaching the grassy area, Scotty pulled up at the place where Nick had lain.

Heath dismounted and knelt on one knee, his eyes taking in the blood stained grass. His hand resting on the bent knee of his right leg, he fought the nausea rising up within him at the realization of how close Nick had been to his final day on this earth.

The anger at the callous act rose up within him and he stifled it down. He needed to be Marshal Heath not brother Heath at this moment if they wanted to find who did this. Looking around, he picked out the spots likely to hide the ambusher while his target rode into his sights.

A rifle was used and he discarded some of the spots due to how far away they were from where Nick was. Scotty tied the horses to the fence while Heath took the rifle off Charger.

“Scotty, I’m gonna look around. I need you to watch my back cause my eyes will be on the ground.” stated Heath.

“Sure, boss.” readily agreed the man who’d do anything for either of his bosses.

Heading to the nearest location, Heath searched the ground but found no evidence of a person being there that day. The search continued as the sun lowered itself to the ground. Joe arrived with the sheriff and Heath pointed out some possible locations. Fred and Joe searched the other areas while Heath continued on.

Puzzled, Heath frowned at the lack of evidence they found. Looking at the spots he had discarded due to the distance, he made his way to them. Stopping at the second one, his eyes caught the ejected casing on the ground. Waving his arm, Fred and the others came rushing over.

Heath looked from the shooter’s location to the approximate spot where Nick had lain and he felt a chill blow through him. It had to be close to twelve hundred yards. A great distance for a rifle, even one with a scope.

Handing the cartridge to Fred, Heath said quietly, “Whoever did it is a marksman. I know of only a handful of people that could make a head shot from this distance.”

Putting the casing in his pocket, Fred frowned at the impending darkness. “Let’s see if we can find what direction he took off in.”

“They, Fred. They.” replied Heath pointing out the two sets of boot prints apart from each other, however, from the same day. He lead the way following the tracks into a small gully to where the horses had been kept hidden in some trees.

Scotty and Joe brought back the horses and the men followed trail left by the horses until the tracks were diminished by the disappearing light of the day. Stopping, Heath sighed, took out a small notebook and pencil.

“Looks like they’re headed back to town. Fred, can you send this wire to Jack Larkin in the morning?”

Reading the paper, Fred nodded. “Sure, Heath. I’ll bring out the response as soon as I get it.”

“Thanks. We’ll come back and follow the trail in the morning.” offered Heath.

Nodding, Fred shook his hand and headed back to town. Heading back to the ranch, Heath wondered why someone would want to shoot Nick from ambush.

Arriving back at the ranch in full darkness, Heath dismounted slowly in front of the barn. His side throbbing in full force from the pounding of riding in the saddle.

Scotty took the reins of Charger and winked, “Could I have the honor of bedding Charger, Marshal Boss? Nick won’t let me handle such fine horseflesh.”

Heath clapped the man on the back, “Thanks, Scotty.”

Walking to the house, Heath opened the door and entered. Victoria stood in the foyer, her tiny hands on her hips. The formidable stance of the small woman brought a warm feeling to the larger man. The look in the gray eyes was a cross between anger and love.

“Heath Thomson, where in the devil have you been?” scolded Victoria.

Smiling, Heath leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on each cheek. His blue eyes showing his appreciation and love for her caring. “I’m fine, Mother and I love you, too.”

The anger from the gray eyes faded quickly and she found herself wrapped in his arms. “Don’t scare me like that again, Heath.”

“I’m sorry, Mother. I had to see what I could find out. How’s Nick?” asked Heath.

Leading Heath up the stairs by his hand, Victoria replied, “He woke for a little while and he’s been asking for you.”

Entering the room, Heath smiled at Melinda who was sitting by the bed keeping an eye on Nick. Relief flooded her green eyes at the sight of the returning man.

Heath caressed her cheek and smiled before sitting on the bed by the side of his sleeping brother. Taking the large hand, Heath squeezed, his eyes taking in the pale face under the tan.

Feeling the hand holding his, Nick slowly opened his pained filled hazel eyes and stared at the blonde.

“Where the hell have you been?” growled Nick.

Smirking, Heath teased, “Looking for your secret admirer, big brother. I figure some lady’s probably getting back at you for your dancing.”

Smiling, Nick returned the squeeze on his hand. “Find anything?”

“Go to sleep, Nick. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” urged Heath quietly.

Seeing the tiredness in the blue eyes, Nick grinned and closed his eyes falling back to sleep quickly, relaxed knowing Heath was safely back in the mansion. Rising, Heath and Melinda went down to the kitchen leaving Mother in the room with his sleeping brother.

Opening his eyes early the next morning, Nick was greeted with a pounding headache. The sound of breathing caught his ears and he turned his head gently to see the owner of the noise.

Heath sat in the bedside chair, his head resting back against a pillow and his hands folded on his stomach. The tan panted legs stretched out in front of him and his feet lay on the end of the bed.

Studying the peaceful face of his little brother, Nick smiled to himself. Waking yesterday from his injury, Nick’s confusion of what happened turned to concern when Jarrod told him Heath and some of the men had ridden out.

He tried to keep his eyes open, waiting for Heath’s return, but his damaged body had other ideas and his lids closed on their own. When the squeeze on his hand woke him and he saw the pools of blue, a wave of relief had washed through him. Shifting slightly in the chair, Heath’s face grimaced from a flare up of pain in his right side.

“You better hope Mother don’t see that face.” said Nick, his words opening the sapphire eyes.

“What face?” asked Heath with a small smile, sitting up gingerly and moving to the side of the bed. “How ya’ feeling?”

“You mean other than the drum playing in my head and the tilting of the room when I try to stand?” queried Nick with a wink.

Chuckling, Heath patted the muscular arm. “Yeah, I know.”

Heath helped Nick sit up against the headboard, holding him upright when the dizziness set in. Propping some pillows up behind Nick, he sat back down.

“Nick, any ideas who’d wanna shoot you?”

“No, I can’t think of anyone.” sighed Nick. “What’d you find out?”

“Scotty says if you hadn’t turned at the last moment, well, whoever pulled the trigger’d be dancing on your grave.” informed Heath quietly, a slight tremor quivering his voice. ”You’re damn lucky to be alive, Nick.”

Nick squeezed his shoulder and teased, “See the Barkley luck is still holding out! Course if I hadn’t turned, you’d be even richer!”

“Nick, this ain’t funny!” snapped Heath regretting his sharp words. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at ya’.”

“No, I’m sorry, Heath. That was a bad joke.” soothed Nick quickly.

Heath stood up and walked to the window, his eyes not really taking in any of the scenery or the sunrise which he always enjoyed so much. Turning, he paced to the end of the bed and turned, holding onto the foot board.

“Whoever shot you is a marksman, Nick. He was at least 1200 yards away.” informed Heath.

“1200 yards?” whispered Nick.

“Fred’s sending a wire to Jack this morning when the telegraph office opens. I can think of some men who could make that shot. He’ll be able to get me a list of more names. It’s a start though.” explained Heath.

“Nick, until we find out whoever’s responsible, it’d be wise to post guards around the ranch buildings. We should keep the rest of the family close to the house and the men can work in pairs.”

Nick sighed, “Maybe you’re right, little brother. Better safe than sorry. What about Hiriam, Melinda and the kids?”

Frowning, Heath wiped his hand across his face, “I’ll have Duke take her and the kids back to town. I wouldn’t want whoever did this is to mistake them for part of the family.”

Smirking, Nick winked, “I’m sure she’ll be part of the family before we know it. She and the kids are really special, Heath.”

Blushing, Heath smiled, “Yeah, they are. Grandfather can decide if he wants to stay here or in town, he may want a change of scenery for a little while since I’m gonna be busy. I’ll be riding out with Scotty this morning to finish trailing the horses.”

“Sounds like you got everything under control, Heath.” admitted Nick, his eyes growing tired.

“Nick, you need anything?” asked Heath.

Looking into the sapphire eyes, Nick stated firmly, “Just for you to be careful and don’t take any chances. You’re not a marshal anymore, remember that little brother.”

Walking over, Heath nodded and took the extended hand in his own, “I know, Nick. I’ll send Silas up with some breakfast.”

“A nice steak and eggs sounds good.” admitted Nick.

Smiling, Heath shook his head, “Sorry, Mother told Silas only porridge and toast for you this morning and headache powder.”

“I’m starving!” growled Nick with disgust.

Chuckling, Heath left the room and descended the stairs to the kitchen, advising Silas Nick was ready for breakfast. Melinda passed Silas on the stairs and entered the kitchen where Heath was having breakfast and smiled at the handsome blonde.

“Morning.”

“Morning, Melinda.” smiled Heath rising and pulling out the chair for her. “Kids still in bed?”

“Yes, Hiriam wore them out last night. How are you feeling, Heath?”

“I’m fine.”

Sharing the table together, the two gazed into each other’s eyes and talked quietly. Melinda reluctantly agreed to return to Stockton, the sadness making her green eyes darker from the strong emotion. Heath felt guilt rise within him at the sight of the sadness.

He escorted Melinda into the study and shut the door. Pulling her into his arms, she welcomed the strong arms which wrapped around her and gave her some much needed strength.

“I’ll miss you, Heath.” whispered Melinda softly. “Be careful.”

“I will.” agreed Heath his sapphire eyes burning with emotion as he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll miss you, too. I’d feel better if you and the kids are home until we find out who shot Nick.”

“I understand.”

His hand held the back of her neck while he kissed the corners of her mouth. Tenderly, he captured her lips, drawing her closer to feel the warmth of her body against his. Reveling in the emotions she created in him, Heath regretfully ended the passionate kiss and leaned his forehead against hers, breathing deeply.

“I’ll come to town to check on you and the kids, okay?”

Smiling, Melinda agreed, “Don’t worry about us, we’ll be fine. You take care of yourself.”

Hugging her again, Heath nodded, “I’ll have Duke bring you into town. Thank you for being so understanding, Melinda.”

“Are you sure you’re up to this, Heath?” worried Hiriam while his grandson saddled the bay stallion.

Leading Charger out, Heath admitted, “I’m not a hundred percent, but I’ll be fine, grandfather. I have to do this, I can’t rest easy til we find out who did this.”

“I know, boy. I’d do the same if I was you.” grinned Hiriam wrapping the blonde in his arms and patting the strong back. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

Returning the hug, Heath smiled, “I’ll see you then.”

Jarrod watched the interplay between grandfather and grandson. The more time the two spent together, the stronger their bond grew. Heath discussed the precautions with the family and all agreed to go along with the restrictions to lessen the chance of a repeat of yesterday’s ambush.

“Jarrod, something wrong?” asked Heath shaking the lawyer from his thoughts.

Jarrod shook his head, “No, you just caught me day dreaming, little brother.”

“Lawyers day dream?” inquired Heath in a stunned voice hearing his grandfather’s soft snicker as he walked passed them towards the house.

Laughing, Jarrod’s blue eyes twinkled and he held the blonde by the shoulders, “Don’t let my secret out okay? Nick and I’ll be pacing the floors til you get back.”

Heath winked, “Jarrod, try to keep Nick in bed. If he opens his head again, no telling what might fall out.”

Jarrod’s booming laugh could be heard throughout the ranch yard. The suave attorney clapped Heath on the back and rested his arm across the broad shoulders, the amusement being replaced with concern, “Heath, maybe I should come with you?”

“It’s best if one of us stays here, Jarrod. Scotty and Joe will be with me.” stated Heath grateful Jarrod, the only healthy of the three brothers, agreed to stay at the ranch.

Sighing, Jarrod smiled, “Alright, Heath. I still don’t like it.”

Scotty and Joe walked over leading their horses towards Marshal Boss and Jarrod. Wrapping his arms around Jarrod, Heath whispered, “Watch over the family.”

Climbing aboard, the three men rode out of the yard while Jarrod watched, his stomach twisted in knots. Like Nick, Jarrod didn’t like the thought of Heath riding out to find the shooter with the potential danger which loomed. Jarrod and Nick had reluctantly agreed knowing their strong minded brother would go alone if they forbade it.

Riding to the spot where they left off the night before, Heath lead the group on the trail of the horses. The trail was distinct and easy to follow for several miles until it merged with a herd of cattle. Cursing the smart maneuver, Heath rode around in a circle searching for the spot where the two men left the cattle. Unable to find the trails, Heath widened his search pattern, smiling when he was able to pick up the trails again. Scotty and Joe watched the area and the marshal boss’ back while he kept his concentration on the elusive trail.

Heath stopped when the trails split off, one towards Stockton and the other towards the northern part of the range. “Scotty, you and Joe follow that trail. I’ll follow this one that’s headed towards Stockton.”

Scotty frowned and cleared his throat, “Boss, we got strict orders to stay with you.”

Looking over, Heath asked, “Jarrod, Nick or both?”

“Actually, it was Mrs. Barkley.” replied Joe. “She’s scarier than the other bosses, uh, boss.”

Chuckling, Heath nodded, “I know what you mean, Joe. She’s a stick of dynamite alright. What Mrs. Barkley don’t know won’t hurt her though.”

Shaking his head, Scotty snorted, “Boss, she’ll know! You can’t get anything by Mrs. Barkley.”

Joe agreed quickly, “I don’t, I mean, uh, we can’t disobey her orders, boss.”

Sighing, Heath’s face was thoughtful and he saw the apprehension in the men’s faces at the idea of admitting to Victoria Barkley they’d left Heath’s side.

“Okay, we’ll stay together and follow the trail heading north.” stated Heath chuckling at the vast look of relief in each of the men’s eyes.

The trails entered a small stream and vanished. Riding up and down the stream for several hours, the men were unable to locate the point of exit. Frustrated, they rode back towards the trail which pointed towards town.

The town trail led them through the driest parts of the ranch and the neighboring ranches. The dust rising up from the horses’ hooves covered the men and stung their eyes, leaving their skin coated, but not stopping the diligence of the man in the lead. Heath clung to the ghost of a trail as if it were his lifeline to this world. Scotty and Joe, at times, shook their heads at each other, their eyes not picking up what his trained orbs pinpointed.

Heath cursed when the trail wound back and entered the same stream as the other one, however, several miles apart from each other. Stopping Charger, he led him to the stream for a drink and the others followed. After a brief rest, they entered the stream and repeated the motion of riding up and downstream, searching for this trail’s exit point.

The afternoon was waning when Sheriff Maden rode up and found the men.

“Howdy, Fred.” greeted Heath.

“Boys.” replied Fred. “Any luck?”

Shaking their heads, Fred saw the disappointment in the three pairs of eyes. Heath took off his hat and wiped the sweatband, “I can’t find where it leaves the stream.”

“I sent your wire this morning, Heath. Larkin wired back he would contact the Winchester Arms Company and the war department, also.” informed Fred.

Scotty asked, “Why the Winchester Arms Company?”

“Each year, the company holds a shooting contest. The top prize being cash, a trophy and usually, the winner gets to choose a weapon of his or her choice. People travel from all around the world to enter that contest.” explained Heath. “Another source of marksmen.”

“His or her choice?” inquired Joe incredulously. “You think a woman could be responsible?”

Sheila Pierson’s chocolate eyes flashed before him and Heath frowned, “Unfortunately, I’ve seen some women who were deadlier than men. We don’t like to think of the fairer sex being that way, but it’s a possibility I can’t rule out until we find out who shot Nick.”

Mounting, Heath explained to the two men he was riding to Stockton with the sheriff. Scotty and Joe voiced their protest but the blonde boss smiled and winked after giving them a written message to hand to his Mother.

Riding into the ranch yard several hours later, Scotty and Joe rode up and dismounted in front of the house. Their argument at the oak door over who would be breaking the news to the Barkley matriarch, stopped when Victoria opened the door.

“Mrs. Barkley.” greeted the men, holding their hats in their hands, their feet shuffling on the steps.

Greeting the returning men, Victoria’s gray eyes looked beyond them towards the barn searching for the third member of the trio.

Clearing his throat, Scotty held out a paper, “Mrs. Barkley, Marshal Boss asked that we give this to you.”

“Thank you, Scotty.” smiled Victoria taking the paper from the nervous man. “You men get cleaned up and have something to eat. It looks like you did a lot of traveling today.”

“Yes, ma’am.” stammered the two, relieved to leave the presence of the woman.

“Note from Heath, Mother?” inquired Jarrod, having seen the two nervous men standing on the steps.

“Yes, it is.” stated Victoria, closing the door. Victoria opened the paper and chuckled.

Mother,

I’m riding to Stockton with Fred. Scotty and Joe protested – I overruled. Please be kind to them. They tried.

Love,
Heath

P.s. No luck on following the trails.

“I’ll let Nick know.” whispered Jarrod placing a kiss on her cheek and climbing the staircase.

Audra looked up from her book when Victoria entered the parlor. “Mother, it is so quiet without Melinda and the kids here.”

“Yes, it is. I miss them, too.” smiled Victoria sitting in a chair. “I’m not sure what time Heath will be back tonight. When Hiriam returns from Stockton, we’ll have dinner.”

Stockton was bathed in the late afternoon light when the two riders pulled up in front of the sheriff’s office. Fred dismounted and waved to Heath who rode down to the telegraph office.

Entering the door, he greeted the only occupant of the room. “Mr. Foster, how are ya’ this afternoon?”

“Fine, Mr. Thomson. Got some wires here for you.” stated the elderly man handing over the papers. “They came in about ten minutes ago.”

“Thanks, Mr. Foster.” smiled Heath opening the wires.

One from the Winchester Arms Company and the other from the war department. Looking up, Heath caught the questioning look in the telegrapher’s eyes and lifted a hand before departing the office.

Leading Charger down the street, Heath tied the reins to the hitching post and entered the sheriff’s office. Handing the wires to Fred, he grabbed a cup and poured some coffee before sitting in the chair on the other side of the desk.

Reading the lists, Fred’s eyes meet the blue ones across the desk. “Your name’s on this list here, Heath.”

“Yeah, I know.” drawled Heath. “I was a sniper in the war.”

“The war?” exclaimed Fred, shock showing in his eyes. “You weren’t old enough to be in the war!”

“So, I’ve been told.” sighed Heath, grabbing a pencil off the desk. “Fred, I think we can safely rule out anyone living abroad. Course, we can rule out me.”

Chuckling, Fred smirked, “Gee, you think so, Heath?”

Going over the remainder of the lists, Heath crossed off any names of people he knew from the past who were either dead or in prison. The list still contained over twenty names, too many were the unspoken thoughts mirrored by Heath and Fred.

“That’s a lot of suspects.” mumbled Fred.

“There could be more. The guy who did it may not have been in the war or entered any shooting contests.” sighed Heath rubbing his side. “At least we have somewhere to start. I’m gonna wire Jack and have him see what he can find out about these people.”

“You, okay?” asked Fred seeing the movement.

Heath smiled, “I’m fine.”

The door burst open and Heath jumped up, his hand holding his gun and pointing it at Duke McCall.

“Dammit, Duke!” yelled Heath angrily, his eyes taking in the panic in the man’s brown eyes. “What is it?’

“I can’t find your grandfather anywhere!” stammered Duke.

“What are you talking about?” puzzled Heath putting his gun away.

“He came with me to take Mrs. Rankin and the children home. He was going to the telegraph office, then the Miller house and was supposed to meet me at the hotel two hours ago. He never showed Heath!” exclaimed Duke.

“Did you check Melinda’s, uh, Mrs. Rankin’s?” asked Heath, frowning at the positive shake of the foreman’s head. “Okay, I’ll check the Miller house again, you two spread out and check the businesses in town.”

The men split up and headed out to their designated search areas. The door of the Miller house was locked and it opened beneath Heath’s kick. Stepping into the room, his eyes took in the furniture scattered in disarray.

Climbing the stairs, he searched the three bedrooms to no avail. Walking into the living room from the stairwell, he felt the movement, the displacement of air, before the hairs on the back of his neck prickled.

Ducking, Heath felt the air whoosh by his head and spun on the balls of his feet. Barrett’s gun wielding hand missed it’s mark and sliced through the open air. Sweeping with a leg, Heath brought the man down to the floor and jumped on top of him. Grabbing a hold of the wrist holding the weapon, Heath wrenched the gun away and threw it across the room.

Barrett punched the blonde in the right side, Heath’s face lost color quickly from the blow. Rolling on top, Barrett grabbed Heath’s head and smashed it backwards unto the floor repeatedly, stunning the former marshal.

Pinning the blonde to the floor with a knee on his right side, Barrett saw the pain in the stunned half-opened blue eyes. The blows to Heath’s face went unnoticed from the fire threatening to erupt from the knee pressing on him.

Dark spots floated in Heath’s vision and he swung wildly from self preservation, hitting the side of Barrett’s head, tossing the former hand off the top of him. Climbing to his knees, Heath’s side exploded in pain from the kick delivered and he was thrown over onto his back.

Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs, Heath saw the boot coming towards him for a second time. Unable to react in time, he felt the contact in his side and rolled over onto his knees.

Barrett kicked out again and Heath grabbed the booted foot, twisting it to the side and bringing Barrett onto the floor. Pushing himself up from the floor, Heath struck out catching the man with a kick in the stomach. Barrett bent over, his lungs seeking air. Heath kicked again, connecting with the unprotected chin, sending the former hand into oblivion.

Stunned from the unexpected fight, his lungs fought for air and he felt nausea rising within him. The adrenaline left and his vision grayed as he leaned against the wall. Heath’s legs gave out when he tried to move and he slumped to the floor, his awareness taken away by darkness.

Duke and Fred searched the businesses and headed to the Miller house when no sign of the older Thomson could be found. Walking into the room, the men stopped and stared. Barrett was shaking his head, moaning in pain on the floor and rising to his hands and knees. Heath lay unmoving against a wall, blood darkening his blue shirt, his face and hair.

Grabbing Barrett and shoving him onto his stomach, Fred wrenched the man’s arms behind his back, securing him with handcuffs. Barrett protested the action with curses, his words falling upon deaf ears.

Duke opened Heath’s shirt and held a handkerchief against the bleeding wounds. Fred grabbed a towel from the kitchen and handed it to Duke, who put it over the bloody cloth under his hand.

“I’m gonna get Dr. Merar.” stated Fred before running out the door. Duke carefully wiped the blood off Heath’s face, the bruises showing already on the blonde, a cut on his forehead bleeding profusely.

“Nick ain’t gonna like this, Heath.” said Duke quietly to the unconscious man. “You’ll be lucky if he don’t hogtie you to your bed.”

Running his hand over the blonde’s head, Duke winced at the lump on the back of the blonde’s head, the source of the wetness and pulled his hand away. The sound of feet running reached Duke’s ears before the sight of the three men did. Fred, Billy and Dr. Merar entered the room.

Billy pulled Barrett to his feet and led him out of the house back towards the sheriff’s office. Kneeling down, Howard lifted the blood soaked cloths and examined the re-opened wounds. The stitches had been ripped open and both wounds were surrounded by dark bruises. The tender areas from the bullet wound and surgery were free flowing with red liquid.

“Doc, he’s got a wound on the back of his head that’s bleeding, too.” stated Duke.

Feeling the back of Heath’s head, the physician shook his head and mumbled, “Boy, you sure are a trial on this old man’s nerves.”

“Did he wake at all, Duke?” queried Howard while he restitched the two wounds.

Shaking his head, Duke replied, “Nothing, not even a moan.”

The needle entering the skin, made no impression on the unconscious man at all, the wounds were being closed by silk to cease the flow of red. Fred rolled Heath onto his left side and Howard examined the wound on the back of the blonde’s head, closing it with six stitches. Wrapping a bandage around Heath’s head, Howard helped roll Heath onto his back.

“Probably a concussion on top of everything else.” stated Howard leaning over the blonde and shouting. “HEATH, WAKE UP!”

Heath moaned from the pounding in his head and found the strength to slowly open his eyes. Howard let out a breath of relief at the opening of the blue eyes. The two faces leaning over him shimmered, shifting horizontally and vertically, merging into one. Dizziness caused his stomach to revolt and strong hands turned him onto his side after he lost the battle to control his muscles.

Wiping the blonde’s face, Howard saw the confusion in the blue eyes that looked around the room. The confusion turned to awareness, Heath lifted his head and squeezed his eyes shut to stem the dizziness.

“Where is he?” groaned Heath holding his bursting head, pushing the men to the side and rolling slowly to his knees. The ringing in his ears trying to drown out all other sound and engulf his mind. Pushing himself to lean against the wall, he stared at the two men before him.

“Sheriff, I lost your prisoner. Dammit.” muttered Heath, his eyes not seeing the puzzlement in the eyes looking at him.

Howard put a hand on Fred’s arm to stop his words. His brown eyes took in the pale face and asked quietly, “What did the prisoner look like?”

“Black hair, black eyes. Five feet, eleven inches. Hundred and seventy pounds Got a faint knife scar under his right eye, another on his right cheek. He looks like a weasel and is a backshooting coward.” growled Heath automatically, pushing away from the wall, he slumped over into the arms of Dr. Merar.

Fred stared at Heath and slowly raised his eyes to Howard, “He just described Luke Croker!”

Duke, kneeling to the side, choked out, “Why’s the boss think Croker was here? He’s gonna be okay, ain’t he? Dr. Merar?”

Howard looked at the men staring at him, the words stuck in his throat from the possibility. Glancing down at the unconscious man in his arms, he said quietly, “Fred, you better round up a search party for Hiriam. I don’t think Heath is gonna be much help. Duke, I need you to get Mrs. Rankin and bring her here.”

Helping Howard put the unconscious man on the sofa, Duke and Fred hurried out the door, their minds jolted over the few words Heath had spoken. Entering the kitchen, Howard busied himself with boiling his instruments to clean them and make coffee. He had a feeling it was going to be a long night. Taking the instruments out of the boiling water, he walked back into the room and his eyes took in the sofa, minus the body of Heath Thomson.

Hiriam entered the rented house on the edge of town, stopped by a pistol barrel held in his ear. The unknown male voice directed him further into the room and the door closed behind him.

“What do you want?” asked Hiriam calmly.

Laughter greeted his question, the voice deep and menacing, “You.”

Spinning, Hiriam knocked the pistol away from his head and grabbed the startled man by the shirt. Throwing him across the room to break the table in front of the sofa. Rushing over, he laid the rising man’s cheek open with a quick right jab, then followed up with a couple lefts to the body.

Blake grunted from the blows and raised his knee towards the groin area. Hiriam deflected the knee but his head was snapped backwards by a head butt. The momentary stunning of the older man, the brief second of time Blake needed to get the advantage. Tossing him across the room, Hiriam flew into a chair, his flailing arms turning over the chairside table and lamp before he landed in a heap in the corner.

Looking upwards, Hiriam stared into the eyes of his secretary, Sheila Pierson. The gun in her hand steady, her eyes lacking any decent human emotion.

Blake wiped his face with his sleeve and grinned down at the older man, “I knew you were a tough old bird. All those years at sea harden a man. Didn’t I tell you, Sheila?”

“Yes, you told me.” purred Sheila enjoying the look of confusion in the man’s eyes. “Can we go now?”

“Sure.” said Blake motioning for Hiriam to rise. “You be good and she won’t kill you.”

“To what do I owe this special treatment?” inquired Hiriam rising slowly to his feet.

Laughing, Sheila mused, “We’re gonna take a little ride and you’re going to complete a legal document for me.”

Hiriam’s eyes grew cold as he asked, “What document?”

“Your will.” stated Blake calmly. Barrett entered the room as Hiriam stated they’d might as well kill him now – he wouldn’t sign anything.

“Well, now.” smirked Blake. “Not even for your grandson’s life?”

Hiriam’s brown eyes flickered briefly before he stifled the emotion, not wanting to give the trio before him any more ammunition to use. His eyes narrowing in anger at the thought of what he’d like to do to the three standing before him.

Blake tied the man’s wrists behind him and the three left through the back door where the horses were tied, with Barrett staying behind, his mission clearly laid out for him.

Reaching the line shack, Sheila pushed her former boss off the side of his horse, laughing when he hit the ground. Not able to break his fall with his tied hands, Hiriam felt the jolt on his healing shoulder and pain made him gasp.

Blake pulled the man to his feet and Hiriam stared furiously at the smiling Sheila, “You hid it well. I didn’t you know you were such a cold hearted bitch.”

Sheila’s smile faded and she left a red mark on his face from her stinging slap. Hiriam slowly turned his head back and stated firmly, “I’ve never killed a woman, but for you, I will make an exception.”

Blake laughed and pulled the man into the cabin, leaving him in the darkness of the windowless second room.

Hiriam wasn’t sure how much time had passed, the black void of the room not allowing for any measure of time. No light passed through the walls. He surmised darkness had fallen from his mental estimation of how long he’d been in this room. He heard the raised voices outside the room, trying to distinguish the words. Barrett. Jail.

His eyes squinted in pain at the sudden burst of light when the door opened. He couldn’t focus and felt hands grabbing his arm. He was propelled up onto his numbed legs and dragged into the lit room.

Falling to the floor, Hiriam blinked to bring his vision into focus. His brown eyes widened as he stared into the bruised and pained face of his grandson.

Heath remembered stumbling outside from a house. The light of the falling sun blinded him and he walked around the building shading his eyes with his hand. His legs wouldn’t work correctly, they had a mind of their own, not obeying his wishes.

‘Croker’s loose. I gotta find him.’

His gut was saying his thoughts were wrong, his head messed up from the blows to the floor by Croker. The face of the man he fought with flashed before him.

‘No, that’s not Croker.’

Confusion jumbled any other cohesive thoughts he tried to bring forward in his mind. He couldn’t bring the memory of what happened to his right side into his head or the name of the man he fought with.

Pulling himself forward, he used the walls of the buildings to keep himself upright. Twice, he had to vomit from the queasiness in his stomach. Putting one foot in front of another, he stumbled and met with the ground rising up towards him.

The next thing he could remember was waking up tied to a horse, night had fallen all around him, his eyes were unable to focus on any landmarks before they succumbed to the pain and closed.

The dragging of his body off the horse and into the cabin woke him from his darkness. Heath lay on the floor, eyes closed striving for control from when he had been unceremoniously dropped, his body speaking to him in waves of pain. His thoughts confused, the ringing in his ears making his head want to explode.

As he fought for control, faces flashed in his mind. He tried to remember the swirling faces as he lay on the floor, his arms tied behind him.

Dark hair, blonde hair, silver hair, strawberry blonde hair, blue eyes, gray eyes, brown eyes, green eyes – different physical attributes, but all people he felt a connection with, a bond of some sorts.

The tanned face of a man with piercing hazel eyes, dark hair and a wide grin stood out above all the rest which flashed before him. He knew that face. He could feel deep inside him, a sense of completeness, a sense of camaraderie with this man. Searching his mind, the name which belonged to owner of the face was elusive, hidden on the fringes of his memories.

Heath allowed the comforting darkness to retake him and enfold him in it’s lack of awareness, closing his mind and body down, taking away questions he couldn’t answer, confusion he couldn’t clear up.

The lack of Hiriam and Duke’s return to the ranch caused deep concern to it’s residents. Organizing the men, Jarrod climbed the stairs to let Nick know he was taking some of the men into town with him. His gut telling him something was wrong, his mind hoping he was overreacting.

Entering the room, Jarrod saw Nick’s fingers were shaking as he tried to button his shirt.

“Nick, get back in bed.” snapped Jarrod, his order not heard by his concentrating brother.

“Nick.” pleaded Jarrod, his breath caught in his throat by the torture in the hazel eyes.

“He’s gone Jarrod.” growled Nick shifting his gaze downward. “I gotta find him!”

Hands pushed away his shaking fingers from the buttons. Nick looked up, the anger flaring in his hazel eyes was doused by Jarrod’s slight smile, “Here let me help you. You know, it’s been a long time since I had to dress you, Nick.”

Nick smiled gratefully, his eyes welling with emotion, “Thanks, Jarrod.”

Squeezing the black vested shoulder, Jarrod teased, “Let’s go find your other half, Nick.”

Returning empty-handed from a search of the entire town, Fred was greeted in his office by Nick and Jarrod Barkley. Their crew of men waited outside the sheriff’s office, Scotty and Joe’s guilt over the missing boss, darkening the scowls on their faces.

“What do you mean he’s confused?” growled Nick, not liking any of the news he’d heard so far.

“It happens sometimes when a person suffers a concussion. He can’t bring his thoughts in order and in, some cases, people have been known to suffer retrograde amnesia. That’s not remembering anything prior to the head injury.” explained Howard quietly, handing Nick a glass of headache powder. “I’m assuming since Heath didn’t ask who Fred and I were, he’s just confused. His thoughts and memories are out of order. They’re in there but locked up.”

Frowning, Jarrod stated, “Or he saw Fred’s sheriff’s badge which sparked the memory of Luke Croker and he didn’t feel threatened by your presence cause you were with the sheriff.”

“Perhaps, Jarrod. We won’t know for sure until we find him.” sighed Howard.

Nick held his pained head in his hands and looked up, “What has Barrett said?”

“Nothing.” stated Fred. “He’s not talking.”

“Not talking, huh?” repeated Nick rising and opening the inner door, ignoring the sheriff.

Standing in front of the cell, Nick stared at the former hand, his hazel eyes burning into the other man. “Where are they, Barrett?”

Walking over, Barrett sneered, “I got nothing to say to you.”

Holding the bars with his leathered hands, Nick shrugged, “Fine, then you can answer to the circuit judge about two counts of murder.”

“What are you talking about! I didn’t murder anyone!” snapped Barrett, sweat making his forehead shiny. “Are you crazy or something?”

Nick saw the uneasiness in the brown eyes and smiled, “Hiriam and Heath Thomson are missing. You’re the only other person who was at the Miller house, Barrett. Think on that!”

Jarrod schooled his features to prevent his smile at Nick’s words from breaking through, admiration flared in his blue eyes. He could see Barrett weighing the options in his mind carefully. Up to now, all he’d done was assault Heath and nothing else.

Jarrod snorted, “Come on, Nick. Let’s talk to Phil Archer about the charges.”

Barrett’s face paled and he felt his stomach rise up at the thought of murder charges. “I didn’t do anything! You can’t do that!”

Low for only Barrett’s ears to hear, Nick replied, “I can do what I want - I’m Nick Barkley. If I say it’s to be, you’ll hang, Barrett. Course, I might let the boys get a hold of you first. You know how they feel about Heath.”

“You need a body to prove murder!” stammered Barrett, a surge of hope rising within him at the thought. He almost jumped out of his skin from the scream piercing the outer office.

“Sheriff! Sheriff!” exclaimed a frantic Melinda Rankin. “Timmy found a body in the woods.”

Fred hurried to the outer office to speak with the boy and mother. Nick and Jarrod turned their heads back to stare at the former hand, their eyes cold and accusing.

“It wasn’t me!” pleaded Barrett, his eyes wide in his perspiring face. “You gotta believe me! I didn’t kill anyone!”

“Com’n Jarrod. Time to talk to Phil.” stated Nick turning and walking away.

“WAIT! WAIT! The north line shack! That’s where they planned to take them!” shouted Barrett. “I know they have the old man. I was supposed to take care of bringing your brother. I don’t know where he is, maybe they got him. I don’t know!”

“Who?” grilled Jarrod.

“That Pierson woman and a man named Benton.” stammered Barrett, fear of hanging by the courts or the Barkley crew running through him. “I didn’t murder anyone. I’m sure they’re still alive.”

Grabbing Barrett through the bars, Nick yanked the man towards him, “For your sake, they better be or I’ll rip you apart myself with my bare hands.”

Nick and Jarrod mounted and lead the men out of town towards the far outlying cabin while Fred and Billy had the grisly task of searching the body uncovered from the shallow grave, found by Timmy as he walking home from playing in the woods with a friend and his dog.

Pulling out the wallet, Fred walked away from the smell and read the name outloud with a lit match. The gasp from Melinda Rankin turned his attention to her.

“That’s the name of the attorney who came with Hiriam from Virginia.” explained Melinda, relieved it wasn’t either Heath or HIriam. “He was supposed to have left town because his mother was sick.”

“Two missing family members and a dead attorney.” said Fred with a shake of his head. “Billy, you take care of the body. I gotta catch up with Nick and Jarrod.”

....Continued