Sitting on the rail of the porch, Heath leaned his head back onto the post. The afternoon spent going through his mama’s things Aunt Rachel stored in the attic didn’t quench the thirst for answers to the doubt spreading within him. The roots of the doubt spreading outwards, firmly taking hold.

The evening was spent in the company of Aunt Rachel and his Mother, going over things from his past, trying to discern if anything could be remembered from conversations of the past. Sighing, Heath’s thoughts turned to the afternoon which had started out full of hope.

Jarrod and Nick stayed by his side, sitting at the table and systematically examining the items in the crate. Each piece of paper read, each envelope opened and the contents laid bare for the world to see. Each container carefully scrutinized for hidden compartments, the lining inside studied for any sign it had been pulled away from its home, the secret box could not be found.

At last, the crate was empty and frustration pierced the sapphire eyes and his hand clenched tightly into a fist. Standing up abruptly, he walked to the window and shook his head, turning back to the concerned men at the table.

“There’s one other place we haven’t looked.” frowned Heath. “I gotta go to Strawberry.”

Nick jumped up and proclaimed loudly, “Not without me, you’re not!”

“We will all go together.” stated Jarrod firmly, blue eyes staring intently into blue eyes.

Slowly nodding his agreement, Heath walked back to the table, picking up the items of his mama’s life, he carefully started to pack them away. Two set of hands joined him, their touch on the delicate memories, soft and gentle with a feel of reverence.

Picking up a small cross, Heath ran his thumb over it, the wood was smooth and worn. His mind was taken back to his job of setting charges in the mine causing his fear of darkness to came rushing back, his last harried escape from a cave-in stealing his breath as it had in the past when he was just a boy.

“HEATH!” called Nick and Jarrod seeing the terrified look in the non-seeing blue eyes. Blinking, Heath was startled back to the present, his eyes took a moment to register the fear in the others, his mind rushed back to the current moment of time.

“What?” asked Heath, glancing down at the cross worn by his mother’s fingers while she waited for her son to return from work.

Nick put his hand over the cross in the shaky hand, his words soft as a gentle breeze, “Where’d you go just now, Heath?”

Looking into the inquiring hazel eyes, Heath laid the cross on the table. Sitting in the chair, he sighed, “When I was a charge boy, mama’d hold this in her hands til I came home. I think this cross was her saving grace from going crazy with worry. It was hard to have me work in the mines, but we needed the money cause she was sick. Anyways, mama about rubbed the pattern off, see?”

Pointing to the small cross, Nick and Jarrod could barely make out some letters which were carved into the wood. The only letters distinguishable were part of a ‘L’ and a ‘H’.

“I see now.” said Jarrod. “It said Leah, didn’t it?”

Heath nodded and Nick grinned, “I think Leah’s a beautiful name.”

“Yeah, I’m kinda partial to it myself.” smiled Heath softly, his eye loaded with fond remembrance. “She told me one of the happiest days in her life was when she was able to put the cross away knowing I was gonna be at the livery.”

The fond remembrance disappeared and Heath drawled, “I appreciate you offering to go to Strawberry with me.”

“Boy, we didn’t offer!” growled Nick, “I’m going whether you want me to or not! I’m stuck to you, right by you. You’re not going anywhere without me!”

Rolling his eyes, Heath snorted, “Gee I didn’t know we were married. I don’t even remember you proposing!”

Jarrod laughed heartily and Nick retorted, “You’re full of bad jokes today, aren’t you?”

With a slight grin, Heath closed up the crate and put the cross in his pocket. “I was thinkin’ of going tomorrow to Strawberry. Is that okay with you?”

Nodding, Jarrod and Nick left the blonde, heading to the hotel to take care of renting horses for the trip the next day.

Victoria put a small hand on the shoulder of her unaware son, giggling when he had to steady his position on the rail. “I didn’t mean to startle you, Heath.”

“It’s okay, I was lost in thought.” replied Heath turning to face the woman he called Mother. The moonlight glistened off her silver hair, encasing her features in a warm light. The thought of losing another mother kept him awake at nights until a tormented sleep would claim him.

Lifting a small hand, Victoria caressed his cheek and said quietly, “I hope you find what you need tomorrow when you travel to Strawberry, sweetheart.”

Holding her hand to his cheek, Heath smiled, “I hope I do, too.”

“Whatever you find remember we all love you, Heath. I know you’re Tom’s son without a doubt. I can see him in you whenever I look at you.”

“Please I..” whispered Heath, his heart in his eyes, torment in his soul.

“I know, Heath. I know you need to find the definite answer for yourself. I wish you didn’t have to go there.” admitted Victoria softly.

The tears in the gray eyes shone in the moonlight. Pulling her into an embrace, Heath whispered, “I have to know. The need to know is taking over everything else and I have to put it to rest.”

Returning the hug, Victoria nodded, “Promise me you’ll take great care of yourself and your brothers when you leave tomorrow. You may feel unsettled now, but I have a feeling your trip to Strawberry will erase those doubts and emotions. I love you, Heath.”

“I love you, too.” whispered Heath pulling out of the hug. “I’d best get you back to the hotel before they send out a search party.”

Victoria walked back to the hotel on her son’s arm. Long after she dressed for bed, she stood by the window staring up into the stars, eyes closed, sending her pleas upwards to the two souls in the heavens.

‘Leah and Tom, please help our boy find the light to take him out of the darkness of doubt. He’s a son to all of us and his family needs him. Please help him and us find a way. To lose him would be to lose a part of all our souls.’

Rising early the next morning, Heath saddled Charger and met Jonas at the sheriff’s office before the two friends headed to the hotel dining room for breakfast. Taking a table by the wall, the two were enjoying their meal when Nick and Jarrod entered the room.

Sitting down, Nick’s eyes widened at the metal on his little brother’s shirt, growling as he pointed, “What’s that?”

Shrugging, Heath said quietly, “A deputy’s badge. Jonas deputized me this morning.”

“FOR HOW LONG?” exclaimed Nick loudly, his burning hazel eyes searing into the cool sapphire ones.

Putting a hand on the tense arm, Jarrod smiled, “I think what our brother is trying to ask, Heath, is why?”

“Well, when you boys go to Strawberry, there’s no telling who you might run into.” suggested Jonas nonchalantly. “There’s no law in that town to call upon in case any criminal element is being harbored there.”

Nick slowly exhaled, his question loaded with hesitation, “So, you’re only going to wear the badge til we get back from Strawberry?”

“I’m wearing the badge and will do whatever duties are required of the badge.” drawled Heath simply. “As to how long, well, that depends on what we find or don’t find.”

Jarrod and Nick glanced at each other, their eyes turning back to the blonde sitting across the table. Jarrod cleared his throat and leaned on the table, his voice soft, “Heath, are you saying if we don’t find proof, you’ll stay here and be a deputy?”

The answer was in the blue eyes which stared back at him. Nick’s face darkened, his frustration rapidly sizzling towards the point of explosion, the words were bit back when Heath suddenly stood.

“I’ll be ready to leave when you’re done.” drawled Heath, grabbing his hat and walking away from the two stunned men at the table.

Jonas walked outside with the blonde stopping by the bay stallion and rubbed his neck. “Heath, I hope you find whatever proof you need and I hope you don’t find your uncle.”

“Well, if he is there, what this badge represents and the responsibilities it demands, will stop me from choking the life outta him.” sighed Heath checking the girth on his saddle. “Course, I can’t promise the same of Nick or Jarrod.”

Smiling, Jonas nodded, “Yeah, you may have to protect your uncle from your brothers.”

“Brothers? God, I hope I find what I need to keep calling them brothers til the last breath has left my body.” whispered Heath quietly. “The thought they may not be brothers is making me feel lost inside. If I find out Sawyer’s my father, well, I don’t even want to imagine what I’ll feel like if that’s the truth.”

Squeezing the sad blonde’s shoulder, Jonas stated firmly, “Well, you can stop thinking cause I know you’re a Barkley. Only another Barkley could put up with Nick!”

Chuckling, Heath grinned, “Being part deaf helps too.”

Laughing together, the two friends quickly sobered when the two brothers stepped out onto the boardwalk. Heath’s blue eyes sparkled when he shook Jonas’ hand and accepted the well wishes on his journey.

Untying the reins, he led the stallion down the street to the livery, two puzzled men walked by his side, each wondering if the laughter in the blue eyes would stay as they went on this last ditch effort to find proof of his beginnings.

The answer to the questions they prayed were housed in the town.
A town where he was born out of wedlock to a woman.
A woman who, they prayed, had been associated with their father.
A father who didn’t know of his existence in his own lifetime.
A father who the two brothers once held firm on a pedestal.
A father who, they prayed, did commit the act of sin which produced this blonde man.
This blonde man, this brother, who was fully entrenched in their hearts, their lives, their very beings.

The ride to Strawberry from Pine Crest started out with conversation flowing between the three men. The closer to the destination, the quieter and edgier Heath became, his desire for conversation drying up, his stomach lurching into his throat.

Reaching the edge of the mining town, Heath stopped suddenly. Jarrod and Nick pulled up, their eyes watching as the blonde sat looking at the town, his eyes raking over the dilapidated buildings, the tumbleweeds trapped against buildings while others rolled freely down the street in a frenzied hurry to leave the near ghost town. The sun which had been shining down on the riders now disappeared at the edge of the town. The brightness of the day replaced with gloom and shadows.

Taking a deep breath, Heath nudged Charger into a walk around the town avoiding the main street. The smell of rot and disintegration assaulted the three as they rode on the outskirts of the forgotten place. Nick and Jarrod followed along after their little brother, letting the younger man take the lead in the place he knew like the back of his hand.

Stopping in back of the one room cabin, Heath dismounted and tied Charger to a tree. Nick and Jarrod climbed down following their brother around to the front of the small building. Heath climbed the two steps and stopped, staring at the spider-webbed closed door for several minutes.

“Heath?” asked Jarrod quietly, placing a hand on his forearm.

Looking over, Heath smiled slightly at the worry in the older man’s eyes. “Sorry, just remembering.”

Pulling the webs down with his hand, Heath pushed the door open and let the outside air into the closed up building. The sun shone into the small cabin, dust particles danced in the beams of light and the first tentative step was taken into the musty room. Crossing to the windows, the men opened all of them welcoming the fresh air to permeate the small building which was once a home to a young mother and her son.

Stepping outside, Heath took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I guess we could see if Aunt Martha’s at the hotel and start there while the house airs out.”

Looking back into the empty room, Nick frowned, “There’s nowhere to search in the house unless you have a cellar or attic.”

Heath sighed, “No cellar and no attic, Nick. Just one room. I figured we could bunk in there while we’re looking around the town.”

“Oh, that makes sense.” agreed Nick sheepishly while Jarrod rolled his eyes.

“Heath, what if your uncle’s at the hotel?” inquired Jarrod. “He may try to finish what he started a while back.”

“Let him try.” stated Heath calmly, taking the riding thong off his pistol. Walking down the street, his eyes watched for movement from the windows of the hotel as they approached. Stepping up on the boardwalk, Heath let the door fall open and stepped inside.

Dust lay gathering on the furniture and counter tops of the lobby. The guest register lay closed, unbothered by hands in some time. The cubbyholes at one time housed keys and mail, now housed only spider webs. Walking around the counter to the office, Heath peeked inside while Nick and Jarrod looked around the dining room and kitchen.

Meeting up in the lobby, it was decided they would extend the search to the rooms of the upstairs. The stairs creaked under the weight of the visitors, the carpet let loose a puff of dust with each footstep. A quick examination provided no guests and no owner.

Heath hesitated and then led the way to the door which lead to the basement. A place capable of stirring up his hidden terrors, a place not of storage but of past beatings, a place of unspeakable pain to a small boy.

Reaching for the door, his hand shook and he stepped back quickly, his face pale and sweaty. Nick howled in pain when Heath stomped backwards on his foot and Jarrod grabbed the shaken man.

“Heath, what’s wrong?” pleaded Jarrod unable to bring his brother back from the place he was. “Heath!”

Nick’s reminder of his sore foot quickly disseminated at the concern in Jarrod’s voice. Taking one look, he took Heath’s face into his hands and turned his face away from the opening and towards him. “Look at me, Heath! LISTEN TO ME!”

The quick, shallow breathing slowed and Heath’s eyes slowly lost the terror as the deep voice spread through his mind.

“I can’t do it. I can’t go down there ever again.” whispered Heath, haunted blue eyes stared into understanding hazel eyes.

“Alright, Heath.” assured Nick quietly. “You don’t have to go down there ever again. I promise!”

“I’m sorry.” whispered Heath repeatedly, leaning against the wall, his legs trembling. Jarrod squeezed his shoulder and glanced at Nick.

“Stay here, I’ll see if anyone’s down there.” suggested Jarrod lighting the lamp they had brought from the lobby.

“Dammit, Heath, you don’t have anything to be sorry for.” growled Nick squeezing the blonde’s neck. “That Simmons does!”

Wiping a shaky hand across his forehead, Heath muttered, “After all these years, I can still feel the strap on my back and the feel of his hands.”

Wrapping the younger man in his arms, Nick’s hazel eyes burned with anger at the thought of all Heath’d been forced to endure at the hands of his uncle and vowed firmly into his ear. “He won’t get another chance to do anything ever again.”

Jarrod climbed the rickety stairs and sighed in relief when he closed the door behind him. “I didn’t think those steps would hold. No one was down there either.”

Leaving the hotel, Heath stopped on the boardwalk and looked around, “I guess Aunt Martha musta left town. They lived at the hotel.”

“Let’s walk around and see if anyone else is here.” suggested Nick. “Maybe someone knows where she went.”

The afternoon waned slowly, the men searched the town coming up empty handed. No one appeared to be left, only the ghosts which walked the streets at night. On the way back to the cabin, they stopped at the small grave yard. Jarrod headed to the stream where Heath and Nick had words so long ago, intent on catching some supper for them. Entering, Heath’s eyes widened and he walked over to the mound of dirt without grass.

Nick followed his little brother’s every step, mimicking the blonde and not letting him out of his sight in the boyhood nightmare town. Stopping beside Heath, he stared at the name on the wooden cross.

Matthew J. Simmons
Beloved Husband
Murdered

“MURDERED?” shouted Nick angrily. “THAT SONOFABITCH WASN’T MURDERED!”

Heath felt the hairs prickle on the back of his neck at the shrill voice behind them. “YOU GIT AWAY FROM HIM!”

Turning, they stared into the eyes of a woman.
The eyes of a woman who had lost her hold on sanity.
The eyes of a woman with a disheveled and harried appearance.
The eyes of a woman with hair unkempt and uncombed, clothes torn and dirty.
The eyes of a woman who held a gun which glistened in the afternoon sun.
The eyes of a woman who was Heath’s aunt.
The eyes of a woman whose finger pulled the trigger.

Jarrod’s heart startled in his chest at the sound of shots reaching his ears. Jumping to his feet, he ran back towards the cemetery, gun in hand, his breath coming in gasps and burning his lungs. His light eyes bulged at the sight of three bodies in the small cemetery as he ran up.

Heath stood frozen in place, sapphire eyes widening when the rush of fear for his brother’s life sent his paralyzed body into motion. The sound of a gun rang out in the eerie quiet of the afternoon air.

Nick felt something hit him plow into him and he was propelled into the dirt of the cemetery. Grabbing for his gun from his prone position, he felt a red hot poker pierce his left shoulder as he pulled the trigger. His aim for the gun held in the hand of the crazed woman, missing it’s mark and finding her instead when her bullet entered his body, turning him slightly.

The bullet pulled the deranged woman back three feet, her body landing on it’s back, the large pistol in her small hand falling out to lay in the dirt, her eyes unseeing into the sky above.

Hearing the running feet, Nick groaned in relief at the frantic sound of Jarrod’s voice. Kneeling beside Nick, Jarrod’s eyes took in the bleeding wound and he yanked the cloth off Nick’s neck.

“Ouch!” growled Nick at the rough treatment from the removal of the handkerchief.

“Sorry, Nick.” apologized Jarrod plugging the hole, looking over for his other brother. “HEATH!”

Nick turned and he scrambled to his knees, crawling over to the still blonde lying on his stomach across his mother’s grave.

“Jarrod, he’s alive, right?” pleaded Nick, his eyes panicked in his white face. “Jarrod?”

Jarrod carefully turned their younger brother examining him for a wound. The lack of blood was a relief to the two men which turned to horror when they realized he wasn’t breathing.

“Heath! Com’n little brother.” begged Jarrod slapping the blonde’s face. “BREATHE DAMMIT! BREATHE!”

“WHAT’S WRONG WITH HIM?” shouted Nick frantically, tearing open the blue shirt and staring at the bruise forming over Heath’s heart on his chest. “HEEAATTHH! WAKE UP!”

“Jesus, he’s dying!” cried Jarrod picking up the still man and dragging him through the cemetery. “NICK, HELP ME!”

Pushing himself to his feet, Nick grabbed hold of Heath’s left arm and put it over his shoulder. His mind wondering what Jarrod was doing while it flashed the image of Heath on his mama’s grave before his eyes.

Reaching the cold stream, Jarrod grabbed Heath and jumped into the water with him. Nick’s legs gave out and he watched helplessly from the bank, riveted to the life and death struggle before his eyes.

Jarrod could never understand what made him drag the blonde to the river that day, but his fear gave way to tears of joy at the gasp which started Heath breathing again. The shock of the cold water started the blonde’s lung functions and his heart to start pulsating again.

“HE’S BREATHING, NICK!” called Jarrod, cradling the unconscious man in his arms, tears mixed with the water streaming down his cheeks from his wet hair. Pulling Heath onto the bank, he sat with him in his arms while Nick reached over and grabbed hold of the closest hand.

“Jarrod, he’s awfully cold.” growled Nick, his eyes not leaving Heath’s serene face, his ears hearing every breath the blonde took.

Studying Nick, Jarrod asked, “Nick, do you think you can walk to the cabin while I carry Heath?”

“I can make it.” stated Nick firmly pushing himself to his feet. Jarrod picked up the dead weight of his little brother and put him over his shoulder.

Entering the cabin, he laid Heath on the floor then helped Nick to sit against the wall. Running outside, he grabbed the bedrolls and saddlebags off the horses. Covering Heath with a blanket, he opened Nick’s shirt and examined the wound closer.

“High in the shoulder and it has an exit wound, Nick. You’ll be sore for a couple weeks but you’re lucky.” informed Jarrod quietly cleaning the wound and binding it up. “I’ll make you a bed by Heath and then I’ll go bury his aunt.”

“He pushed me out of the way, Jarrod. But I don’t understand why Heath stopped breathing.” puzzled Nick.

Jarrod reached over and took the piece of metal off the blue shirt. Handing it to Nick, the hazel eyes stared in shock at the dented badge, his hand started to shake.

Nick’s voice was a tormented whisper, “If he hadn’t been deputized Jarrod, we’d have been burying our little brother by his mama.”

“I know, Nick.” replied Jarrod softly. “The bullet hit the badge and the badge must have stopped his heart from the blow to his chest.”

Closing his eyes, Nick laid his head back against the wall. “If you didn’t put him in the water, he might not have come out of it.”

The anguish in Nick’s words sent a shiver up Jarrod’s spine and he grabbed the back of his brother’s neck. “He’s still with us, Nick. He’ll be waking up soon.”

Opening his eyes, Nick nodded, “I know, Pappy. Let’s get those wet clothes off him, you know how prone that boy is to colds.”

Jarrod cupped the tanned cheek of Nick and smiled gently, “He’ll open his baby blues before you know it, little brother.”

Working together the two got Heath out of his wet clothes, dried him off and redressed him in dry clothes. Inspecting the fireplace, Jarrod started a fire to further warm the cold blonde who lay in front of it, his head resting on the black jeans of his brother’s lap. Nick’s eyes were closed and he sat against the wall, his breathing a sign he was asleep.

Jarrod left the two in the cabin and walked to the cemetery. Picking up the gun from the dirt, he ran his fingers over the gold eagle on the grip, his eyes wide with shock.

Going into the hotel, he came back with a blanket and wrapped Martha Simmons in it. Finding a shovel in the crumbling livery, he laid her to rest in the cemetery beside the grave of her husband.

Unsaddling the horses, he was carrying the last saddle into the cabin when Nick shouted to the frenzied blonde on the floor screaming Nick’s name. Dropping the saddle, he rushed to his brother’s sides.

“HEATH, I’M HERE!” shouted Nick into the ear closest to him. The screaming stopped and a pair of confused blue eyes gazed upon him.

“Nick?” asked Heath moaning at the stab of pain in his chest. “What happened?”

Smiling, Nick replied, “Jarrod baptized you.”

“What the hell are ya’ talking about?” gruffed Heath rolling over onto his knees, holding a hand over the bruise. “I feel like a horse kicked me in the chest.”

“I bet you do.” sighed Jarrod, “Here, Heath. I believe this is yours.”

Heath looked at the gun Jarrod extended to him, his face scowling as he took it in his hand. “Where’d you get it, Jarrod?”

“Your aunt had it.” informed Jarrod watching the identical looks of shock appear in his younger brothers’ eyes. “There’s only one way she could have gotten it, isn’t there?”

“From Uncle Matt.” answered Heath looking to Nick with concern, “You, okay?”

Grinning, Nick nodded, “Thanks to you.”

“Where’s Aunt Martha now?” inquired Heath, his heart steeling itself at the regret in the hazel eyes.

“Her bullet threw off my aim for the gun, Heath. I’m sorry.” replied Nick, his eyes falling to the floor.

The sense of dread which flared inside Heath at the look of regret in the hazel eyes was replaced with a sense of finality at the turn of events. The journey for proof was over.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Nick. I saw the insanity in her eyes. She’d have killed all of us given the chance.”

“I know but she was our last hope to find proof you’re a Barkley!” anguished Nick.

“It’s not your fault, Nick.” said Heath firmly, reaching over to pat Nick’s leg before laying down, the pain from the blow to his chest clenching his jaw. “You look like hell, Nick. Get some sleep.”

After Heath’s pained eyes closed, the fear of what the next day would bring was clear for each to read in the other’s eyes as Jarrod and Nick stared at each other.

....Continued