Six days later, Jack Larkin was woken from a sound sleep by Fogarty pounding on his hotel room door. Talking briefly, Larkin dressed quickly and rushed to the Sheriff’s office with the other marshal.

Opening the door, he walked full force into the raging bull of the Barkley family.

“WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO?” shouted Nick in Marshal Nichols’ stoic face.

“Nick, calm down.” stated Jarrod his hand on the black vested shoulder.

“Mr. Barkley, tell me what happened.”

“I understand that. How did it happen?” replied Larkin calmly.

“WHAT THE HELL DIFFERENCE DOES IT MAKE? GET HER BACK!”

Putting a hand on Nick’s arm, Jarrod replied, “Marshal Larkin, this afternoon Audra was on her way back from the orphanage with our butler, Silas Whiting. According to Silas, they were accosted, he was struck unconscious and Audra was gone when he came to. This note was in the surrey.”

Handing the note over, Jack Larkin frowned at the words.

A fair trade.
A Barkley for A Croker
Morada. North of town.
Friday morning.

“Where is your mother, Mrs. Barkley.”

“Under guard at our ranch.” gruffed Nick. “Give me Croker and I’ll make the trade!”

“No, I think not, Mr. Barkley.” stated Larkin calmly.

Turning to Fogarty, he ordered, “Wire Thomson in Lodi and let him know what’s happened. Use the code to keep the information private.”

“He’s only one man. What’s he gonna do?” asked Nick in disgust after the door closed after Fogarty.

“His job, Mr. Barkley.” snapped Larkin in defense of his absent marshal.

Rolling his eyes, Nick waved his hands in resignation. “This is a waste of time. We shoulda took some men and gone after her ourselves, Jarrod.”

Shooting Nick an angry look, Jarrod asked, “How do you think wiring Heath will get Audra back, Marshal?”

Sitting on the desk, Marshal Larkin looked both brothers in the eye, “Marshal Thomson was able to locate the whereabouts of John Freemont and his men in the mountains. He is keeping them under surveillance. That’s certainly where they will take your sister and that’s where Thomson will take her back.”

“What if he can’t get her back?” growled Nick.

“Mr. Barkley, of course I can’t promise with one hundred percent certainty, Thomson will get her back. We should try this avenue before we are forced to trade Croker.”

“What exactly can you promise?” inquired Jarrod.

“I can promise Marshal Thomson will do whatever is necessary to get your sister back or die trying.” sighed Larkin, his words impacting both brothers severely by the looks on their faces, their new brother’s life may be exchanged for their sister’s.

“If he doesn’t succeed, we’ll have to do as the note decrees.”

Heath had found the hideout by a fluke on his way back from Sacramento where he met with the marshals based there. Going over the information together, all the marshals had ascertained the jewelry heist was undoubtedly the best possible target.

Increasing this possibility was the uncovered talent of Luke Croker, explosives expert. The museum would be keeping the crown jewels in an inner room with a steel door on a timer, the only entry point.

Also, add to the mix was one Frank Croker, a cousin, who was the night janitor at the museum, securing the job six months earlier. This was how John Freemont knew the jewels were arriving and had time to create his plan of attack.

This was perhaps one of the biggest jobs Freemont had ever planned. The cash alone he could get for the jewels, if he succeeded, was enough allow him to live out the rest of his days comfortably.

Leaving Sacramento and the marshals who would be ensuring the safety of the crown jewels, Heath stopped in the mountains back in the trees. Hearing horses coming, he had pulled Charger back further and covered his nose, whispering softly keeping their position hidden as he watched Freemont and his men heading down the mountain.

His eyes narrowed and he controlled the urge to leap out at the group. Waiting for several minutes, he backtracked them to their point of origin. The cave was empty but all their items remained, clear indication they would be back.

Riding to Lodi, he wired Stockton and received his orders to maintain surveillance on the group. The order was received with a mixture of relief and dread.

Relief that he would not be returning to Stockton.

Dread that while his father’s family was physically in Stockton miles away, mentally they were all in his head.

Maintaining surveillance only meant it would be harder to not think about them, to keep them out of his head and his questions at bay.

‘An idle mind is the devil’s playground’ thought Heath with a shake of his head, scolding himself mentally at his dark thoughts.

Every two days, he would ride to Lodi in the late afternoon and check for wires. The coded words on the paper caused a dark fury to build within him. Audra Barkley appeared to be just barely past eighteen years old.

Freemont and his men were not fit to have an innocent lady like that in their midst. Crumpling the paper in his fist, he had made his way back to the mountains.

Tying Charger two miles from the hidden camp of John Freemont, Heath exchanged his boots for moccasins and checked his guns. The sun was rapidly falling and nighttime would be covering the mountains shortly as he ran through the woods sure-footed on his way to his destination. The wire from Stockton had thrown him for a loop, Freemont was upping the ante in the game.

In the quiet of the early night, Heath Thomson lay on his stomach, his neutral clothing blending in with the scenery around him. His moccasins allowing him to sneak up close without snapping a branch or twig which would alert the unsuspecting group. His prowess in the woods learned from the time he spent in the company of Charlie Whitehorse. It had proved a useful tool over the years in his profession as a marshal.

Heath’s muscles were tense, his body unmoving as he watched the cave. His eyes searching for a way to get the prisoner without shots being fired. He didn’t want to take the chance on Audra being hit by a stray bullet.

His eyes narrowed as the woman was led forcibly out of the cave and down to the river. Crawling slowly backwards for several yards, he climbed to his feet and worked his way in the same direction.

Stumbling from the yanking on the rope tied around her wrists, Audra fell to her knees and cried out in pain from the rock cutting open her knee.

“Come on, missy.” smirked one of her captors, his eyes leering at her disheveled hair and dress torn. Grabbing her by the arm, he pulled her roughly down the faint path to the river. Pushing her onto the ground, Audra scrambled away not heeding the rough terrain beneath her hands and legs.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” she screamed when he grabbed her from behind and pulled her to him. Her nails racking his face, leaving four tracks of red in their wake.

Enraged, he slapped her cheek with a backhand and his hands bruised her arms from the brute force. Crying out in pain, she fell back to the ground when his hands were abruptly released and reached upwards.

Staring, she scrambled to her feet and watched the man struggle against the muscular arm of her half brother around his neck. The veins in the man’s forehead bulged, his struggle ceasing after a sudden snapping sound broke the air. Dropping him to the ground, Heath took the knife from his boot and cut the ropes from her wrists.

A voice shouting a question to the lifeless prone man had Heath taking a hold of her hand, he whispered, “We gotta run, Miss Barkley.”

Leading her into the trees, she struggled to keep up as the night fell around them and her marshal brother pushed on.

“Uncle John, Harry’s dead!” shouted his nephew rushing into the cave. “His neck’s broke.”

Freemont jumped up and stared at his nephew, “That Barkley girl couldn’t have done that! Someone took her from us! FIND HIM!”

The group split up and ran to the trees, each taking a different direction from their camp.

Looking up at the sky, Heath mumbled, “Would have to be a full moon.”

Audra stumbled, her hand slipping out of his and she fell onto the pine needle cushion. Kneeling beside her, Heath tilted her face up and stared at the bruise on her cheek, the same cheek his fingers had touched a week ago.

Audra gasped for air from their rapid flight, her leg bleeding. Taking out his handkerchief, Heath wrapped it around the deep cut on her knee. Tying it tightly to stop the bleeding, apologizing when the movement caused her to bite her lip, stopping the outcry from the pain.

“Heath, thank you for..” stammered Audra, her eyes filling with tears at the thought of what could’ve happened.

“Don’t cry. It’s okay.” assured Heath gruffly, hesitantly wiping her tears off her cheeks. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, I promise.”

Nodding, she startled at the sound of crashing coming from the path through the trees they had taken. Helping her up, Heath pulled her after him, slower this time. Charger was only a half mile away. The noises behind them were getting closer.

Throwing Audra in the saddle, Heath untied the reins and lead the horse through the trees to the trail. Climbing up behind her, he kicked Charger into a gallop heading quickly down the mountain. The safety of the woman in front of him, his only priority in life right now.

Riding double was hard on any animal, even one as strong as Charger. Heath pulled up and dismounted in front of a farm house. Knocking on the door, Heath explained the situation, the farmer nodded and led the Marshal into the barn.

Ten minutes later, the two blondes were riding on their way back to Stockton and an enraged, deadly fury was building within Freemont. Marshal Thomson had taken his ace in the hole away, destroying his carefully built dreams and plans with that one move. Retribution would be swift and deadly.

In the early morning light, dismounting in front of Dr. Merar’s office, Heath reached up and helped Audra from Charger, swinging her up in his arms when she collapsed from exhaustion.

He kicked open the door and carried her inside, ordering a shocked Mrs. Merar to fetch another marshal.

After laying the unconscious woman on an examining table, Heath was pushed out of the room by the physician. Standing in the waiting room, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.

Mrs. Merar brought Jack Larkin with her. Leaving the two lawmen in the waiting room, she went to assist her husband.

“Heath, when’s the last time you slept?.” inquired Jack, the dark circles reflecting under the closed eyes of his young marshal.

Shrugging, Heath sighed, “Haven’t slept much since I left here.”

“Go to the hotel and get some rest. I’ll stay here.”

Shaking his head, Heath replied, “I’ll wait until I see how Miss Barkley is or til the rest of her family arrives. Did you send someone out to the ranch?”

Rolling his eyes, Jack shook his head at the man’s streak of cussedness, “They’re not at the ranch. The deputy’s on his way to the hotel to get the Barkleys.”

Several minutes passed before the front door opened and the family entered. Heath opened his eyes, briefly looked at them and said quietly, “Dr. Merar is with Miss Barkley, now.”

“Thank you Heath for bringing her back to us.” smiled Victoria gently, placing a hand upon his arm.

“It’s my job, ma’am. Excuse me.” replied Heath departing through the door the family had just entered, untying the horses and walking them down the street.

Watching the man retreat again, Nick looked at his mother, “If he won’t stay still, how’re we supposed to talk to him?”

Chuckling, Jarrod smiled, “Does seem to be a bit of a problem, doesn’t it?”

“Personally, I’d wait until the trial is over. Until then, there’s gonna be too many other distractions.” stated Marshal Larkin in an offhand manner.

Nick smiled slightly and cleared his throat, “I thought you said Heath was, uh, is a friend of yours?”

Jack grinned, “He is. Sometimes even friends need a hard shove in the right direction.”

Marshal Nichols appeared as Dr. Merar was updating the group on Audra. A state of complete exhaustion and bruises were the only remnants of her ordeal. Marshal Nichols took over Larkin’s spot in the waiting room. Until the trial which was scheduled to start in four days was over, the Barkleys were under protection.

Jack walked into the livery and helped Heath care for the horses. Heath filled his superior in on the whereabouts of Freemont as they walked to the hotel. Heath climbed the stairs and collapsed on the bed in exhaustion. His mind and body shut down in a deep sleep.

Hours later, he was waken when a hand clamped down hard over his mouth and two men held his arms. In the late afternoon light filtering in through the window, his blue eyes seethed with rage at the sight of Freemont above him.

“This time, you’re dead.”

Heath threw his body to the side, Freemont lost his balance and fell to the floor. The two men yanked him off the bed by his arms and threw him against the wall. His body landed hard, sending him to the floor dazed. Lunging at Freemont from the floor, he took the man down and pummeled him with his fists.

Turning towards the other two men, pain exploded in his head from the butt of a gun. Falling on his side, the kicks to his body overtook the pain in his head. His vision graying, his movements stopping, the vicious ambush over within a matter of minutes.

Stepping back and wiping his face, Freemont pointed to the bloody marshal on the floor. “Get rid of it.”

The men picked up the lax man between them. Standing in front of the window, they tossed the marshal out and onto the street of dirt below. Leaving the room, they ran down the back stairs of the hotel.

Fred Maden and Jack Larkin watched the body of Marshal Thomson fly through the window and land with a thud on the street below. People screamed in terror as the glass rained down onto the man and in the street. Rushing over, Jack knelt down and reached to turn him.

Fred stopped him, “No! Don’t move him! Someone get Dr. Merar!”

The desk clerk ran down the street and Jack Larkin ran up the stairs into the hotel. Shots rang out further down the street from the jail.

“Stay with him. Don’t let anyone move him til the doc gets here.” yelled Fred to the telegrapher before running down the street. Larkin ran out of the hotel, following the sheriff’s path.

Entering the jail, Marshal Fogarty lay dead from shots to the chest and Luke Croker was gone.

Jarrod and Nick ran up the street with Dr. Merar, the desk clerk’s frantic screams of what happened still wringing in their ears. They knelt beside their bloody brother in the dirt. Howard felt the weak pulse and called out, “Get something we can carry him to the office on.”

In a matter of minutes, a sheet of wood appeared at the physician’s request. Running his hands over the battered marshal, the fear could be seen on the doctor’s face.

Looking at the brothers, Howard said quietly. “Put the board under him. Nick. Jarrod. I need your help to turn him over. I have to keep his neck straight, there’s something wrong with his back. When I tell you, gently move him over at the same time and I’ll hold his neck in place.”

When the turning was done, Howard sighed with relief. “Now, I have to hold his head straight as we walk, just as a precaution. When we carry the board keep it as level as you can. We’ll have to take it very slow.”

Jarrod, Nick, Fred and Jack all slowly raised the board. The walk to the office, a short ways away took over ten minutes, precious red liquid continued to drain and drip off the board, spattering a trail behind them.

Marshal Nichols held open the door and stared at the sight of his fellow officer on the board. Victoria and Helen Merar gasped in shock and rushed to an examining room. Placing the board on a bed, Larkin and Fred informed the Barkleys of the escape and left the office with Marshal Nichols.

Several agonizing hours passed before Dr. Merar entered the waiting room to speak to the Barkley family.

Sitting in a chair, he sighed deeply. “Victoria, I won’t lie to you. Heath’s in a bad way. He’s got a concussion, couple fractured ribs, broken left collar bone, broken left wrist, numerous cuts, bruises and a lacerated spleen. I was able to stop the internal bleeding from the spleen with surgery.”

“What about his back?” asked Nick.

“Somebody stomped on his back, the lower part of it is very swollen.”

“Will he be able to walk, Howard?” whispered Victoria, her complexion paled while she comprehended the injuries in her mind.

“It’ll be a while before we know if that will happen. We have to wait for the swelling to subside. For now, we can only keep him strapped down in place, keep him from moving as a precaution, in case his back’s broken.”

Holding his sobbing mother’s hand, Jarrod’s eyes filled with tears from the thought of the brutality needed to inflict these kinds of injuries. His voice shook with fear, “Will he live, Dr. Merar.”

“I don’t know Jarrod. He started running a low temperature and he’s very weak. He hasn’t regained consciousness yet. I just don’t know.”

“I wanna see him.” demanded Nick jumping up to his feet.

Ignoring the shout of his mother, Nick asked Mrs. Merar to leave and closed the door.

Tears formed in his eyes at the pale ghost of the man laying tied to the board. Walking over, he ran his eyes over the injuries taking in each one. The anger in him rising with each bruise, each injury, each cut he saw.

The once handsome face now marred with bruises and cuts from the glass. His ribs partially wrapped, a bandage covering the incision from the surgery. His left wrist wrapped, his left arm in a sling, his breaths uneven and his cheeks flushed with fever. Taking a cloth, Nick gently wiped the sweat from his face and neck.

In Nick’s mind, it was hard to believe just a little more than a week ago, this man had ridden into town hauling in a man, who unknown to him, had murdered his own father. This man had dodged bullets to save their mother’s life. This man in a cold furious voice had condemned them all and then, a few days later saved their sister.

This man! This marshal! His brother!

Looking closely at the still face for any sign of movement, Nick sighed deeply and stood up. His eyes catching sight of the star on the table next to the bed.

Sitting in a chair, he held the badge in his palm and wiped it clean of dust and blood. His fist curled around it and his tears fell freely, vowing to protect the last gift his father sent to him.

Standing and leaning over, Nick spoke loudly in his ear, “YOU GOT BARKLEY BLOOD IN YOU, HEATH THOMSON. BARKLEYS ARE NOT QUITTERS! YOU HEAR ME? WE DON’T QUIT! LISTEN TO ME, BOY!”

The wakening from the darkness which absconded and threatened to steal the injured man was a torturous sight to witness five days later.

The first signs of the return from the darkness was the attempt to move his arms and legs. This attempt was met with resistance on all fronts.

The second sign was the small movement of his head which only awarded the two watchers pain filled moans.

The eyelids fluttered and his eyes moved rapidly beneath them, his breathing quickened as the wakening increased along with the threshold of the pain. His lids half-opened, the eyes were glazed with pain and fear.

Cursing mixed with moans, tears ran from the corners of his eyes, sweat reformed on his face and neck from the onslaught of pain.

His quick breaths only heightened the pain, his ribs felt as if they were going to explode inside his chest, his back was engulfed in fire.

Howard was shouting to get past the terror of pain surrounding the patient. “Heath, slow your breathing! MARSHAL!”

Pushing the physician aside, Nick leaned over and yelled, “HEATH, SETTLE DOWN! HEATH, BREATH SLOWER! LISTEN TO ME, BOY!”

The forceful, demanding words reached through the pain. He’d heard that deep voice when he was in the darkness, that voice was always there, urging him on, talking to him.

That demanding voice acted like a shining beacon, keeping him from falling into the dark hole he had been straddling. His glazed eyes turned to the owner of the voice and they widened with surprise.

“That’s it, Heath…Now settle down…I know it hurts, boy...I know.” The demanding voice replaced with a soothing tone, it’s owner’s hand clasping his right one.

The sluggish blue eyes moved from the hazel ones and glanced down the length of his body. Widening in shock at the restraints around his arms and legs, his breaths quickening, earning him another blast of Barkley shouts in his ear.

“DAMMIT, BREATH SLOWER!”

Moaning from the pain, Heath closed his eyes and fought to obey as the thundering voice demanded. Several minutes passed before they slowly opened again.

Pain filled his words coming out in gasps, “Hope…other …guy….worse..”

Grinning in relief, Nick cupped his cheek, “Take some pain medicine and we’ll talk about it later.”

“Twit...brain”

“Did you just call me a twit brain?” growled Nick in astonishment.

Howard chuckled at the confusion in both sets of eyes, “It’s okay for now to be twitter-brained. I know you don’t like to take laudanum, but you’re not gonna be able to return to marshaling for a little while, Heath.”

“How…long…til” Pain flew across the bruised face and his body tensed as he fought to control it, the grip on Nick’s hand was making it numb.

Nick’s eyes widened from the depth of the pain. His voice again heard through everything else. “SLOW BREATHS, HEATH! SLOWER!”

The blue eyes slowly reopened and looked at the physician. Confusion reflected openly and they turned to Nick, the beacon.

“Shot…back” asked Heath, his brow scrunched up in confusion.

“You weren’t shot. You were thrown out a window.” replied Nick catching the puzzled look in the blue eyes. “Don’t you remember?”

“No...” gasped Heath, his head filling with pain after he shook it.

Patting his shoulder, Dr. Merar smiled. “Don’t worry about that now. Let’s work on getting you healed.”

Howard lifted his head slightly, the blonde took the pain killer and chased it with a sip of water. Nick watched as the medicine slowly took affect and the pained, tensed body relaxed under the medicinal spell.

Drowsy blue eyes reflected brief remembrance and shifted over to look in the hazel ones.

“Audra”

Nick said quietly, “You saved her, she’s fine. Go to sleep, little brother.”

The sound of relaxed even breathing filled the air. Nick looked up at the physician and smiled widely.

With each awakening, through the terrifying wall of pain and panic, one or more of his father’s family would be at his side. The pain and panic with each awakening gradually decreased and anger set in.

At first, Heath had been confused when each time he woke, a Barkley was at his bedside. His confusion turned to anger when his stay in the doctor’s home seemed never ending, further tortured by his inability to move, the dark thoughts over his back injury, uncertainty of his future life and the nonstop, unrequested caring by the Barkleys.

Heath had no remembrance of the altercation in his hotel room which led to his undesired swan dive out the window. He didn’t know who was responsible. He could take a guess, but had no evidence to support his theory, therefore no way to arrest anyone. The only thing he knew was it allowed Freemont the distraction needed to free his murdering brother.

Lawmen up and down the state had been notified after Marshal Fogarty’s death and the frightening assault on Marshal Thomson, a search ensued but Freemont had gone underground. The Crown Jewel exhibit at the Sacramento museum remained untouched by the hands of the criminal.

Three weeks had passed before Dr. Merar stood him on his shaky legs. At Heath’s request, only Jack Larkin had been present to witness the first of the baby steps in his return to full mobility.

Two steps had been all he could manage before he nearly passed out from the pain of the muscle spasms shooting through his back. Jack caught his young friend in his arms, listened to the humming and saw the familiar faraway look.

He saw the questioning look in Dr. Merar’s eyes and later explained away from Heath’s ears, it was similar to self hypnosis. Heath learned to use it in Carterson prison to help get past the beatings and whippings, past the times when he didn’t think his body or soul could take any more. It worked effectively when his mind wasn’t cluttered with fever or pain killer, when he could almost prepare for the pain he knew would be coming.

One week later, Heath was allowed to sit up in chairs. Dr. Merar left his patient alone with the visiting older marshal. Jack studied his friend, his left arm and his plastered wrist in a sling, the only outward signs of the assault and those were coming off today.

Except for an occasional back spasm which would take him completely by surprise, a weakened body and his slower footsteps, Heath was fast mending and on his way back to being whole.

It had been almost six weeks since he stood watching his friend and peer’s body flying out the window and down to the street. Each time he closed his eyes, he could see it as if it were yesterday.

“Jack, how’s Charger?” asked Heath anxious to see his horse again.

“He’s fine. You know you’ll be out of there in no time, Heath.” smiled Jack.

“Yeah, It’ll be a parole from the Barkley jail.” stated Heath sarcastically.

“Heath!”

“Dammit, Jack! They took advantage of me being hurt!” growled Heath.

“They did not! They’re just doing what family does for each other.” snapped Jack.

“How’d they think I was gonna make a sound decision when my head was all full of pain killer. Twitter-brained, I was! Now ya’ know why I hate that stuff!”

Throwing his hands in the air, Jack snorted, ”Twitter-brained! I think you’re hair-brained, maybe even a few oats short of a bushel, boy!”

Shaking his head, Heath replied grimly, “I don’t know why’d they want anything to do with me anyway. That murdering Croker got away cause of me.”

“Croker’s day will come, don’t worry about that. You know, sometimes you are dumber than a mule, Heath Thomson.” stated Jack firmly.

“I AM NOT!” yelled Heath, anger in his voice carrying throughout the room and down the hallway.

“YOU ARE! JUST LISTEN!” shouted Jack, holding out one hand to stop Heath’s words.

Looking into the angry blue eyes, he smiled slightly. Heath had a heart of gold, but allowing people close to him scared the strong man, usually taking a long time and only after it was earned.

“Listen to me! I was here when everyone thought ya’ wasn’t gonna make it. Those people were tortured every minute of the day thinking they’d lose you. No matter what way you look at it, they’re family. Ya’ can run from it, but it’ll always be there right behind you. Family’s like a shadow, boy. It’s attached to you. Ya’ can’t get away from it.” explained Jack quietly, the blue eyes slowly replacing anger with thought.

“I’ve never known you to be a fool, Heath. Stubborn and cantankerous, yes, never a fool.”

Sighing loudly, Heath shifted in the chair and muttered. “I’m not cantankerous!”

Laughing loudly, Jack snorted, “Yeah, right! That’s like saying your brother ain’t as loud as thunder!”

Heath flashed a lop-sided grin to his friend while Jack helped him back onto his feet. His grin disappearing as the reality set in.

“All right, Jack. Just til I’m able to sit a horse and get back to work.”

Playing with his shirt cuff, Heath sighed loudly and nodded.

“You can tell Nick, I’ll go to the Barkley ranch.”

....Continued