The grounds of the hacienda style ranch were as well manicured and kept as they had been the day Maria had left to go with Heath and the Barkleys. Though her father had long since been absent, all the buildings had been maintained in his absence and the ranch managed in accordance with his orders.

In many ways it was if he was still there. His stamp on the way things should be done was everywhere to be seen. It all made for an eerie feeling for Maria, as she approached the house of her childhood after five years. Not once had she returned to it in the intervening five years, and, in fact, until today had always kept her riding deliberately away from the property.

How could she want to revisit the place where she had seen Heath brought in from being whipped and left half-dead. She could never erase that awful memory.

Each time she looked at the scars on Heath's back the memories were there, the scars raised in white lines against the smoothed, bronzed skin and running in deliberate strokes from left to right, reaching down to the flesh of his buttocks.

The morning after their wedding night, she remembered his self-consciousness around her when he felt her eyes rest upon the scars and then her gentle hands touch them. Not the touch of a lover as she had been the previous night, but a wife's sympathetic touch for her husband wounds and hurt.

He had tensed under her touch whereas he had reveled in it the night before. In the darkness she had felt those same scars as her hands roamed feely over his body, exploring and drowning in his manly feel, but she had not seen their extent, that was, not since she had nursed him back to health. Now, in the unforgiving light of the morning with no shadows to conceal them, what they were, or what had caused them, they were on full display and her touch felt alien.

"You don't have to look if the light is too strong," he had said, his words wounding her instantly and causing her to remove her hand quickly as though she had been stung. Feeling rejected, she rolled away from him, burying her head in the pillow, wondering what had caused Heath's feelings to change towards her. She was hurt and confused, she longed for him to touch her, to make love to her again, he had awakened the woman in her and she belonged only to him. Why did he make such a cruel remark? Why did he not want her to touch him?

Heath for his part, instantly regretted saying the words. They were cruel, angry words. Words of rejection, but the rejection was of himself, not Maria and yet it had been Maria he had hurt and deeply. God how he loved her! She invaded him and filled every part of him. He loved her completely. How could he have been so cruel? He leant across the bed and pleaded with Maria to forgive him.

Maria turned and their eyes gazed intently into each others, hazel into blue, both lost, but wanting to find each other again.

"Why, Heath? Why did you say that? How can you doubt my love? After all we have been through. After last night? You are the only man I have loved. How, Heath? How?"

Heath sighed and thought deeply. "Maria? What do you see when you see my scars?"

Suddenly an understanding dawned on Maria. Heath wasn't rejecting her, he was rejecting her perceived pity. Maria thought deeply before answering.

"I see the scars and I remember that night, Heath. I see scars, one of my family put there and I feel eternal shame. I see scars once raw and bloody and yet now healed on the surface but not here," she said, pointing to his troubled head. "I see scars caused by the hate of one man and borne with the strength of another. I see scars meant to diminish you but which only served to diminish the man who inflicted them.

"I see scars and realize that you suffered them because you loved me and I wonder sometimes if I am worthy of that love. Yes, Heath I see your scars and from time to time will relive those moments and fears, but it is not with pity that I touched you. It is with love."

"They don't repel you?" Heath asked, realizing that it wasn't his wife's coming to terms with his scars he had to worry about, it was his. He had been deeply affected by his wife's words and the love in which they were spoken.

"No," Maria reassured him. And with that she showed him how much she loved him, dispelling his fears as she seductively kissed and caressed each scar, freed as they were now from the shadows of the night and the horrors of the past.

That has been five years ago and the memory stopped Maria in her tracks.

Heath looked at her concerned. Maria smiled seeing his concern. "I'm alright, Heath. It's just strange coming back."

"If it's too much, we can go back." He offered, his concern always for Maria.

"No. I'm fine, really."

The children discovered a tree, the branches of which reached down to the grass. Will wanted to stop and play. Nicholas did too. The parents followed and recognized the tree as the one Maria had sat under when Heath had come to call with his two brothers.

Heath picked Will up and held him steady by the waist as the little one walked the length of one of the drooped branches.

Nicholas wanted to do the same and after Will's turn, he followed, though his steps were less sure, less steady and Heath all but carried him the length of the branch. Scooping him off the tree as he reached the end, Heath eye's was caught by carved lettering on the trunk of the tree, almost obscured by the panoply of leaves.

Holding Nicholas in his arms he inspected it closer, his curiosity peaked. Suddenly, Maria saw what he was doing and went to stop him but it was too late. Hidden behind some leaves which had thinned over the years, was revealed a heart with the letters MM and HB written within it and the year, 1869, the year Maria was thirteen and Heath, seventeen.

"I never knew," he said.

"You were never meant to," Maria smiled, realizing her secret crush had been found out.

"I didn't even know you knew I existed," Heath could not get over the discovery.

"Oh I knew." Maria sighed, her mind going back to the school girl crush for Heath Barkley which developed into marriage and children.

"But when we met?"

"Why Heath Barkley, you didn't think I was going to let on that I liked you, did you?"

Heath pulled her to him by the waist whilst still holding Nicholas and kissed her. "I'm so glad I married you, Mrs. Barkley."

Maria smiled back, "I'm so glad you did too, Mr. Barkley."

"Again! Again!" Will shouted up, wanting to play in the tree again.

Their lips still pressed together, Heath and Maria turned slightly to see their son jumping up and down.

"Your son want's you," Maria mouthed into Heath's mouth.

"Impatient little fella, ain't he?" Heath mouthed back.

Maria was just about to respond when she heard her name called out from across the lawn.

"Maria. Mi hija, ¿está eso usted?"

Maria and Heath immediately broke away, stunned to hear the voice of her father addressing Maria. Heath shifted Nicholas in his arms and placed a protective hand at the small of Maria's back.

"Maria? I can't believe you are here," her father proceeded.

He seemed not to have noticed Heath or the children, his eyes were simply full of joy at seeing his daughter.

"I.... I....I didn't know you were here." Maria finally uttered, stunned at finding him there. "I thought the place was empty. I wouldn't have..."

"Have returned if you knew I was here?' Her father finished her sentence for her.

Maria nodded, unable to say anything more. She moved further back into Heath's protective hand and took Nicholas from Heath, forming a barrier between her and her father. She was not ready for this. It was a step too far.

"Mama? Who is he?" Young Will asked, running over to his father and burrying his head in his father's legs. Heath's hand went down to ruffle the boy's hair in reassurance.

It was as if Don Alfredo had seen the children for the first time. "These are your children?" he asked, obviously affected by their appearance and their kinship to him. For a moment, just for a moment, he forgot their impure bloodline.

Maria nodded. "This is Nicholas," she said, indicating to her youngest son, "And this is Will. We have a daughter too. Her name is Rosita."

Don Alfredo's head jerked up at the mention of his late wife's name.

"It is good that you honor your daughter with your mother's name."

"I loved my mother," Maria replied, pointedly.

"Yes, I know." Don Alfredo replied, not daring to ask if she still loved him.

In all this time Don Alfredo had not acknowledged Heath or his presence once. Maria did not fail to notice the slight. "I have to go," she said, scurrying with Nicholas to her waiting horse.

Heath and Don Alfredo exchanged glances and then Heath scooped Will up and ran after her.

"Maria. You can't!" he pleaded. "Stay, talk to your father. You've come this far, please. You have to try and repair what has come between you."

"But Heath, my love." She said tenderly, reaching out to touch the side of his face. "You are what comes between us. If he does not accept you. I can never accept him. Nothing has changed. Can't you see that. All these years and nothing has changed!"

Wills' and Nicholas' little faces looked at their parents, non comprehending. They had no idea who the tall man was, all they knew was that Mummy and Daddy were arguing and very soon they both began to cry.

Maria looked at them both sadly and tried to reassure them. Her eyes went to Heath's understanding ones. "I can't, Heath. Please don't ask me." She handed Nicholas to Heath for a moment whilst she mounted her horse and then reached out her hands for Nicholas and rode away.

Heath remained standing, holding Will. He could either follow her, or he could try to find a way for him and Don Alfredo to achieve an understanding which would allow them to both love Maria and for her to have both of them in her lives.

"Don Alfredo. I think it's time you and me talked," he said, turning to the Spanish grandee.

"Senor, we have nothing to say to each other." Don Alfred replied snootily.

Heath allowed himself an inward wry smile at Montero's continued snobbery towards him. It hurt nobody but Montero himself. Since having children of his own, Heath knew what Montero was missing out on and he even felt sorry for the man. But there was Maria. He would do anything for Maria.

He put Will down and encouraged him to go run and play. The little boy was unsure, but Heath reassured him that he would remain nearby. Will leaned up and hugged his Papa. It was an act of spontaneity and love and its display made Montero feel the void left in his own life where his daughter was concerned. To him, Heath had everything that should belong to Montero. His daughter, his grandchildren.

As soon as his son was out of hearing distance, Heath made it clear that that he wasn't going anywhere until he and Montero had spoken. He used a tone he rarely used but which showed that behind the man who was willing to forgive and to compromise, was a man with quiet determination and resolve. He had turned the cheek so many times, because his love for Maria was so much greater than any hurt or slight he had suffered, now for the sake of that same love he was going to have his say.

"I'll have my men remove you, then." Montero replied, unimpressed.

"You can have them try." Heath said flatly. "But I'm not going anywhere."

The two men remained silent for a moment. Will came running back to his father and Heath lowered himself to his haunches to attend to a small graze on his son's knee. It was nothing serious and soon Will's tears were forgotten in his wish to go off and play again.

"How old is he?' Montero asked, unable to remain unaffected by the child who was his grandson.

"Four." Heath replied.

"Maria has a fine boy."

"He is mine too." Heath reminded him. "If you want to be a part of Maria's life again, or his, you are going to have to accept that."

"You had no right to marry my daughter." Montero said bitterly.

"You had no right to stop us. You know Montero, if there is one thing I have learned since having children, it is that we are entrusted with loving and raising them but not living or controlling their lives. They don't owe us for being born. That's God's gift to us and our gift to them. It don't need no repayment. Not in my book anyway."

"Ridiculous." Montero could not withhold his contempt. "They owe us everything. Respect, honor, obedience. Such liberal views are because of your..."

"My being a bastard. You forget, I never knew my real mother, though I've learned what a decent and honorable woman she was since. I was raised with a family. Are you saying my upbringing, my values are any different to those of my brothers, Jarrod and Nick who were brought up in that same family. You would happily have had any of them for a son-in-law, but not me. And your only objection it seems is because I was born illegitimate and that my blood is only half theirs'."

"I am sure you are a decent man, Mr. Barkley, but my daughter was intended for much better. How can you understand the importance of our heritage. My family goes back over a 1000 years."

"Most families do," Heath said flatly, standing up.

"But most families cannot trace their line back as the Monteros do. It is important to us. How can you possibly understand?"

"I'm not beyond understanding it, Don Alfredo. Not beyond understanding the pride a man can have in his family. I reckon I got me pride. Pride in the way my Mother and Father brought me up, pride in the values they taught me to have, pride in my wife and children, my brothers and sister. They're the things that count."

"But you have no heritage." Montero was still closed off to any understanding but his own. To admit anything differently was to dilute what he had always believed.

"No, but I got me a family. I know which I'd rather have. Heritage is only a legacy. If we're not careful we pay it too much homage and forget what we have in the here and now."

"I understand what you are trying to do, Senor, but I can never think your way. A line we have kept pure for a 1000 years has been spoiled by your bad blood."

"Look at my son, Don Alfredo. Look at your grandson. Has he really spoiled your bloodline?"

Montero was unable to respond and instead walked away. Just at that moment Will ran up to the man his daddy had been talking to. "Goodbye, sir," he said, holding out his small hand, practising the manners recently taught to him. He was not to know the education of a small boy was to educate Montero in a way no one had expected, least of all Montero himself.

Accepting the boy's hand in his own, Montero's back stiffened and he walked away. Will rushed back to his father and Heath scooped him up, placed him on Charger, and mounted up behind him, pausing momentarily to see Montero disappear into the house before riding home.

Montero could not sleep. His mind kept turning over the words of Heath Barkley and the handshake of a small child. He got up, donned a robe and walked silently through the empty rooms of the hacienda he had built over twenty-five years.

He had hoped it would fill with children, but Maria had been their only child. Sons that he had dreamed of, remained only dreams and in many ways he had envied his neighbour, Tom Barkley ,his three sons. Yes, Tom Barkley had three sons of whom he was equally proud, Heath Barkley included - Heath Barkley who was now his son-in-law.

He had fought so long for the honor of his family, even hiding the madness that lurked on the Garcia side and which had manifested itself in his nephew Luis. The bad blood had not been Montero blood but after its discovery he had protected it all the same. That protection had almost cost his daughter's husband his life.

He remembered with absolute horror his discovery of Heath Barkley, whipped and bloodied at Garcia's hand. He knew that day he would not forget the savagery done to the cowboy for the rest of his life and he had not, despite his enmity towards the man. Garcia was mad, but there was no excuse for his own form of cruelty. For cruelty it had been to kill that bull in front of Barkley, for what was the bull if not a metaphor for Barkley and his impure blood.

Now as he walked through the empty rooms, filled with paintings of ancestors, but empty of life, he began to question how he had been so wrong all his life. He had held on to his snobberies and prejudices all his life and for what.

He had at first hated Barkley for what he was, then threatened, then finally took and he had held onto that hate, feeding it, ignoring who Heath Barkley really was - a decent, honorable man who loved and cared for his wife and family. Not only that but despite what had been done to him, the boy held no bitterness, only a wish to build a bridge so that Montero could find his way back to his daughter and Maria back to him. He knew then that he could never have been so generous. His was a possessive love, Heath Barkley's was not.

It was a hard lesson to learn. To learn that you had been a fool all these years and that Heath Barkley not Alfredo Montero was the better man.

Returning to his room, he spent the rest of the night wrestling with the past, the present and the future. His conscience gave him an uncomfortable night and answers played hide and seek with his mind. Heath Barkley might be forgiving, but Montero was less forgiving on himself.

Two days later, Heath kissed his mother and wife goodbye at the train station. They would be away for a week with the children and Heath was missing them already. The bitter discord between Maria and her father still remain unresolved and Heath had not been able to persuade her to go see her father again. He would not press her further.

Heath hugged his boys and then placed them on the platform of the train, kissing his mother on the cheek and then his wife on the lips, their kiss lingering, both knowing they would not see each other for a few days.

Victoria shepherded the children into the private carriage, allowing their parents their privacy.

"I married such a good man," Maria said softly as she caressed the side of Heath's handsome face, his kiss still on her lips.

"Just a man," Heath replied, pressing his forehead gently to hers in quiet communion.

The departure of the train was their pressing enemy. The station master signalled 'everybody aboard' and Maria hurriedly claimed another kiss, holding Heath's face between her hands before finally whispering into his ear. "No. A good man. An honorable man. A man I am so proud I married." And with that she stepped onto the train and within seconds the train departed in a trail of billowing steam, engulfing all those standing on the platform and obscuring them from those on the train.

Heath stood for a few minutes watching the train disappear from view before heading home, unaware that Luis Garcia who had alighted off the train observed him silently.

Heath arrived home from Stockton a little before midday and asked Silas if Nick had arrived home yet, the brothers having agreed to meet up for lunch and then take a look a look at some paperwork together, for they were considering buying some more land to give over to tenants.

"Not yet, Mr. Heath," Silas answered. "But he took great trouble to tell me he would be back and not to start lunch without him."

Heath smiled. "That sounds like Nick. It's nothing that will spoil, is it?" he added, not wanting to inconvenience Silas.

"No. You don't have to worry Mr. Heath. Lunch will be ready when you and Mr. Nicholas are."

"Thank you, Silas." Heath said gratefully. "I'll get cleaned up before Nick get's home. I can do it quicker when he's not dogging my tail."

Both men laughed at the truth of the statement for each knew if Nick had something to say he would just follow you around until he had said it. Heath grew reflective for a moment.

"You know Silas. You don't have to call us Mr. Heath and Mr. Nick. We're just plain Heath and Nick."

Silas smiled. "I knowz I can Mr. Heath and knowing it makes the difference. Don't you be worrying about it. Whyz I remember when Mr. Nick wasn't much older than your eldest boy, Will, is now, and he called me Mr. Silas at his mother's insistence and then out of respect. Respect works both ways, you see Mr. Heath. That's why I call him Mr. Nick now."

Silas elaborated no further, but Heath understood him perfectly. It was Silas' choice to address them as he did and who was he to take that away from him.

"Well, I'll be off to get cleaned up," Heath said softly. "I'll take a bath, but I promise not to be more than five minutes."

His long legs made light work of the first few stairs when suddenly the door opened and Nick came in through the space opened up. His gloved hand remained still on the door handle, it seemed that Nick and the door were making some grand gesture. To suggest Nick close it seemed to break the moment they had both conspired to create.

"Heath, I want to talk to you," Nick informed his brother.

"I thought as much." Heath answered. "Wait for me downstairs, will you Nick. I'm going to take a quick bath."

"Don't worry I'll follow you up. Silas... I'm as hungry as a horse. Lunch almost ready?"

Heath and Silas exchanged knowing looks. "Yess'm Mr. Nick. Just as soon as you and Mr. Heath are ready."

Nick grinned from ear to ear. "Thank you, Silas." He bounded across the foyer, dropping his hat on the center table and easily covered the distance Heath had already made of the stairs. "C'mon Heath. Let's not keep Silas waiting." And with that Heath found himself dragged up the rest of the stairs, Nick bending his ear all the way.

"Call that dirt?" Nick pulled his face at the still hot water left by his brother as Heath got out of the tub and began toweling himself dry. Heath was conscious of time and had managed with a quick bath. Wrapping the towel around his slim waist he responded dryly. "What can I say, I'm a clean fellow."

Nick considered himself dirtier than the water and so stepped right in and continued talking.

"Nick, if you want to finish this conversation you better do it downstairs through lunch." Observed Heath before Nick had said two words.

"All right. I'll see you downstairs." Nick shouted to a retreating Heath with no ill will for having been shut up.

Heath made quick work of getting dressed and was soon making his way downstairs, fastening his cuffs along the way. He made his way to the dining room and served himself from the table laid out with food. Nick joined him a few minutes, serving himself twice the portion that Heath had served himself. "I'm hungry," he said in self-defense. Anyway it's Silas' fault. If he wasn't such a good cook, I wouldn't eat half as much."

Heath smiled. "Well there's a kind of logic to that," he admitted.

" Of course there is. And to prove it...How much do I eat of your cooking when we are out on the trail?"

"You don't like my cooking."

"Exactly! Case closed!"

A knock at the door interrupted their banter. Absentmindedly, Heath watched Silas traverse the length of the foyer to answer it. A few moments later, Silas entered the dining room to tell Heath that Don Alfredo Montero wished to talk to him. Heath's face took on a serious look. Nick's took on one of indignation. "What the hell does he want!" He said standing up and throwing his napkin to the table.

"I better go find out," Heath said more softly, his manner of getting up from the table less dramatic than his older brother's. "Thank you, Silas. Please tell Don Alfredo I will join him in a moment."

"I'll go with you."

"No, Nick. I'll see Don Alfredo on my own."

"Well, I'll just be outside the door."

"I don't need a guard dog. It wasn't Montero who hurt me. It was his nephew, remember."

"All part of the same family." Nick grumbled, reluctantly sitting down again and attacking a chicken leg like it was Montero he was attacking."

"Go easy on the chicken, Nick. It's dead already."

A few moments later, Heath entered the Parlor and went to listen to what Don Alfredo had to say.

On a train to San Francisco, Juan-Antonio Sanchez, a friend of Luis Garcia sat observing a mother and her children as they walked from their private carriage to the buffet car. The oldest little boy, no more than about four, stumbled with the motion of the train as the train hit an uneven part of the track and Sanchez caught the blond haired lad before he hit the floor. "Gracia, Senor," Maria said gratefully as she picked up Will and steadied him once again.

Sanchez removed his hat and acknowledged the woman and the older woman who accompanied her and the children. As the party continued down the carriage, Sanchez went over in his mind what Garcia wanted him to do.

Meanwhile in Stockton, Garcia set out for the Barkley ranch.

"Don Alfredo," Heath acknowledged as he entered the room, his outwardly cool appearance hiding the tension he felt.

Don Alfredo turned from where he was looking at some photographs on the piano. In one hand he held a photograph of Heath's sons and in his other hand a picture of the granddaughter he had not yet seen. "I'm sorry." He said, embarrassed that Barkley had caught him in a sentimental act.

"Why? They're your grandchildren. Not all men are lucky enough to see their grandchildren. My father for one."

"I don't have the right."

"No, I reckon you don't at that." Heath said bluntly, the bluntness of his statement surprising Montero.

A silence descended before Heath, having thought on his next words continued. "But you can earn the right. Might not happen today, might not happen tomorrow or even this year. That will be down to Maria. But if it is what you are wanting, I reckon it's worth the fight, no matter how long it takes."

Outside the door, Nick almost put a fist through the door when he heard what his kid brother had just said. Instead he walked back to the Parlor and vented his frustration to Silas.

"I got to stop that boy. He is offering that slimeball the chance to get to know his grandchildren. What's got into the boy! If he'd only let me in there, I'd tell Montero just what I think of him and that it would be a cold day in hell before he gets to see those children."

"Now Mr. Nick. Mr. Heath knows what he is doing." Silas wisely counseled. "Why don't you sit down and have your lunch, just like Mr. Heath suggested you do."

As if to emphasise his point, he pulled back Nick's chair. Nick looked at him and the chair suspiciously. Slowly he picked up his napkin and lowered himself to the chair. Just at the point where his rear had an inch to go before being fully seated, he was up on his feet again and the napkin thrown back on the table.

Silas sighed as he saw Nick walk back to the Parlor with a chicken leg in his hand, his teeth tearing away at the cooked flesh in frustration at what was going on inside the room.

Montero studied the younger man before him. "You would let me see them, even after all I have done and said against you?"

"I would. But Maria would have to agree to it."

"That she would never do." Montero sighed. "I have hurt her too much."

"That you have."

Heath paced the room over to the french windows and turned after a moment of reflection. "Don Alfredo. This is my house and you're the guest now so I reckon I have the right to ask and also the right to expect an answer. I've shown you nothing but respect and have been a good husband to your daughter. What gives you the right to look down on me?"

Montero's proud face crumpled in shame, ageing him all at once, and he sank to a nearby chair.

Heath had not expected that reaction but stood watching all the same, waiting for his answer. He would not let Montero duck the question.

"I know now I had no right." Montero said eventually. "The other day you showed me who was the better man. Even after all that was done to you by one of my family and by my own prejudices, you were still willing to try and affect a reconcilement between my daughter and I. I knew then, that I could not have been so generous, so forgiving of a wrong done to me."

"I love Maria. It's not complicated unless you choose to make it."

Montero was non-comprehending. "But it is complicated. Events have complicated it. Things that I have been done and said have complicated it. You walk around with the scars on your back. How can you not hate me? I don't understand. I treated you less than dirt."

"Yep." Heath replied. His gaze went to the portrait of his father above the fireplace, his source of strength for so many years. 'How am I doing Pa?"

"You're doing just fine, son," came the reply back, "But don't let the bastard off the hook." That made Heath smile.

Heath's monosyllabic answer frustrated Montero even more. "Then why. I need to know."

With words deeply felt, Heath answered.

"Maybe because I knew I was not dirt. Maybe because I had a family who made sure I was a part of my family as much as Nick, as much as Jarrod, as much as Audra. The only time I questioned it, my brothers mixed their blood with mine and from that day I never questioned it again, until you killed that bull. I was angry yes. I was non-understanding, and for a while I felt myself not worthy of Maria, so in a way you achieved what you set out to do, but then my family and Maria put me straight again. Since then I have not let words or scars control my life. If I did, I would miss everything that is good about life and for me that is Maria and the children."

I hated you." Montero said with emotion suggesting that the hatred was still not spent, perhaps it wouldn't be for years. Maybe that would be his penance.

"Yes, I know. And where did it get you?" Heath said sharply, returning to the french windows again. He needed to see a view other than the room.

"Estrangement from my daughter which I fear is now permanent." His tone suggested Heath was the cause and Heath caught Montero's accusation.

"I am not your problem Don Alfredo. I am not the obstacle between you and Maria. I never was."

"She chose you."

"Live with it." Heath said bitterly.

Montero laughed at the display of emotion from the otherwise outwardly collected young man. "You're not afraid of anything, are you?"

"A man would be a fool not to be afraid of something, Don Alfredo. I expect every man has his own fears. I got mine. My father had his. I expect my sons will have theirs' too as they grow older. But you had nothing to be afraid of about me. You fought windmills that weren't even there.

Heath paused before continuing.

"I'm not wastin' time waiting for you to accept me. You either do or you don't. But if you want Maria back in your life again, you better swallow back that hate you have for me because whilst you have it, Maria won't take one step toward a reconciliation between you both."

A silence formed whilst both men thought on the situation.

Finally, Montero stood up. "I owe you an apology Mr. Barkley. I have wronged you deeply and for that I am genuinely sorry. I would like very much to be a part of my daughter's life once more and those of my grandchildren... And if I may I would like a chance to get to know the man who is my son-in-law too. I feel I may have much that I can learn from him."

Heath sighed, his body letting the tension go. He almost felt his father's hand give him a triumphant squeeze on his shoulder and he leant back into the physical comfort of his father before the moment passed.

Montero was asking for a chance and Heath was prepared to give it. He turned and gave a half-smile, one which Montero had never noticed before but hoped he would now see often. "You can start by calling me Heath."

Outside the door, Nick was nearly dancing. "That told him! Silas, did you hear?"

"Beg pardon, Mr. Nick. but you are the one with your ear against the door."

"Hmmph! Well, take it from me Silas... Heath went and put that Montero in his place and with style too. I'll have lunch now, Silas. The boy don't need me. He can handle this on his own."

On the train heading towards San Francisco, Victoria regarded with growing suspicion the man observing them from across the car. She had become acutely aware that the man who had stopped Will’s fall was observing them all the way through lunch.

Maria had not noticed it, busy as she had been with the children, but Victoria with her eagle eyes had. She could not shake the feeling that the man intended trouble and instinctively she went on her guard.

Back inside the Parlor there was a mocking slow hand clap from the doorway.

"What a touching scene, uncle. Truly, I am deeply touched at how you accept this bastard as your son-in-law and his blond haired American children as your grandchildren."

A sneering Luis Garcia stood at the french windows Heath had recently vacated and pulled out a gun as the two men turned.

Unarmed, Heath was powerless and Montero the same, as the gun was fixed firmly on Heath Barkley.

"Luis! Don't be a stupid fool! Put that gun down. This is not what I want! I never wanted violence."

Luis laughed loudly, a maniacal laugh, which bore no relation to sanity. Suddenly, his face turned hard and menacing.

"Violence! Violence, dear deluded uncle, was determined the day you killed that bull. There is no difference between what that bull did and was killed for and what this bastard did to Maria."

"He is a man, not an animal!" Montero said incredulously.

"Half a man, remember. I whipped the other half out of him." Garcia sneered.

"You would not get away with it a second time," Heath answered with the bitter memory of lying whipped on the ground, defenceless against the attack.

"A bold statement considering I am the one holding the gun, don't you think. A man would be a fool to give away that advantage. And for what?"

"To prove who really is the better man in a fair fight." Heath replied, goading Garcia, for he saw no other way out the corner he and Montero were in.

"Tempting. Very tempting. But then, I already know who is the better man. I always knew."

"Luis. I command you to put the gun down," shouted Montero.

The very words invoked an immediate and dangerous response. "Command? You command me, Uncle? Don't you see? Are you so blind, so stupid, that you cannot see that this is no longer just about you and Maria."

He turned to Heath, the gun still primed, the aim still fixed but his words still aimed at Montero. "This is not about your vengeance now, this is about mine! For I, yes I, Luis Garcia, was made to crawl out of an alley on my hands and knees, amidst the dirt and the filth and the low-life that exists there. His brother humiliated me and I will have my revenge."

"My brother is not here," Heath said quickly, hoping to protect Nick from Garcia's twisted need for revenge.

"I don't want your brother," Garcia sneered. "Killing him once is not enough to feed my revenge. Killing you and your son will kill him more slowly."

"My son!" Heath lunged forward to attack Garcia but was held back by Montero who had to maintain a firm grip on his son-in-law's upper body to stop Heath from being killed. Heath flailed against him. "What have you done to my son?" he growled out through clenched teeth as he struggled against his constraints, the panic and fear he felt causing him to stress out every last word. "If you've harmed a hair of his head or any of my family, I'll kill you. I swear to God, I'll kill you."

Garcia enjoyed watching the man struggle and squirm and his uncle too. His uncle had betrayed him once in sending him to the insane asylum and would have done again had Garcia not escaped to Mexico.

"Luis. I swear on all that I hold dear, I will hunt you down if you harm my grandson." Montero uttered in Spanish.

Luis' eyes took on a cold impenetrable look. "You bore me Uncle. You have always bored me." He sighed heavily, his manner foppish and flippant as he became bored with this part of the game. "And I am bored with this sport now. Stand away from him, Uncle."

"What are you going to do?"

"Stand away Uncle!"

Montero reluctantly released Heath from his arms and took a few steps away, then stood in horror as Garcia walked up to the younger man and aimed the gun at Heath Barkley's temple."

"You can't! I won't let you!" Montero shouted. He swallowed up the floor as he strove to get back to Heath but was not quick enough.

All went silent when the shot fired.

After what seemed a lifetime. Montero stood motionless and empty. Slowly, his eyes traveled towards the dead body that laid sprawled on the floor and the blood that pooled quickly around it, crimson red and ultimately flawed.

"You two alright?' Nick asked, his gun still smoking. Silas stood to his side, rifle in hand. Heath did not stop to answer. His only thought was getting to his family. They were on the train to San Francisco. Jarrod would be meeting them there, but had something already happened to them. Had someone already got to his boy?

He swept past Nick and Silas and headed to the gun room and then the barn, saddling Charger, ordering Ciego and another hand to get another horse ready. He would need to change horses if he was going to catch up with the train. It had two half-hour stops scheduled along the way. Heath was determined to catch up with it, no matter what the cost. Nick came running out after him and Montero followed. Silas brought canteens of water, which the riders would need.

Heath looked at Nick as he saddled a fast horse - not Coco who was too old for the chase that would ensue - but Lightening, who like Charger was aptly named. Tightening the cinch on his own horse he watched Nick pick out another horse to take, before choosing two fast mounts for Montero to ride.

Heath never said a word. Speech, even gratitude for his life, unable to come to him because of the fear he felt, the fear for his family and their safety. It was primal in its intensity, but he knew exactly what he had to do.

"It's alright, Heath." Nick consoled. "Don Alfredo has explained everything. Let's ride."

Heath didn't wait. As soon as he was ready he swung into the saddle and was on his way, galloping through the gates, spare horse matching Charger for speed. The dust of the sun baked earth plumed heavily in the air in their wake and plumed again for several minutes when Nick and Montero rode out of the gates in pursuit. One of the hands followed in order to look after the horses that would be left behind after each rider had changed their mounts.

Seeing the riders disappear, Silas sent a prayer heavenward, tears forming in his sad eyes. "Please don't let the children be harmed. "Mr. Heath would just die if anything happened to those children, and old Silas would die too, Lord. He just wouldn't want to carry on if those children were killed."

The Barkleys were fortunate in that the spread of their land gave them advantage. They could cut across country and cut out much of the journey they would otherwise have to travel.

Cold fear drove Heath to push Charger to his limits, both rider and horse working up a sweat that ran in rivers down them, neither man nor beast giving up. Nick and Montero were equally demanding of their horses. Their mounts had been chosen well and when they came to change them, their choice had been good and the spare horses did not let them down.

The train had stopped once and was journeying its way towards the next station across open land. Victoria had taken Maria into her confidence about her suspicions. Maria did not recognise the man and felt Victoria was perhaps worrying over nothing. Still to settle her mind she agreed to stay in the Barkley car which was the last carriage on the train.

Victoria locked the door behind them, certain that the man who seemed to be everywhere where they went on the train meant nothing good by his presence.

Getting off the train at the isolated station at which they had just stopped was no option. The small town did not even boast a telegram office with which to communicate with Jarrod in San Francisco or Heath back in Stockton. No, best to stay on the train and get to San Francisco where Jarrod would meet them. She checked a small hand gun which she had hid in her purse, hoping she would not have to use it. But if she had to, she would.

The children were not happy being cooped up, and the baby grew fractious with the heat and the upset to her routine.

The windows were open but it was still hot. With some reluctance Victoria opened the door to the small platform at the end of the train. It was there own private platform looking out on to nowhere and nobody but Victoria remained worried and on her guard.

Maria took the baby from the nurse they had employed to help with the children on the journey and loosened her top to allow the baby to suckle and feed. Victoria watched from the open doorway, slipping the handgun into a pocket in her full skirt. She placed another gun in a place out of reach of the children and hoped she was worrying for nothing.

Juan Antonio Sanchez meanwhile looked to the approaching hills, the place he and Garcia had agreed to meet. This need for revenge meant nothing to Sanchez other than the money Garcia promised at the end. Garcia wanted Heath Barkley and his eldest son dead. Some strange repayment for the perceived ills done to him. But whilst Garcia was mad, Sanchez simply wanted the financial reward and if he had to share company with madness for a while to get it, he would.

Slowly, he got up from his seat and stretched his arms and legs, tipping his hat with Spanish charm to the ladies as he went down the aisle. He traveled through car after car, making his way towards his destination, the Barkley car at the end. It was Victoria who heard the door turn, the lock offering immediate resistance. It rattled a few times under force, Garcia trying to force it open.

Victoria told the nurse to take the children into the bedroom and close the windows and the door. "But Mrs. Barkley, the heat?"

"Do as I say!" ordered Victoria reaching for the gun she had placed out of reach. "Take the baby with you and whatever you do, don't open that door until I say so."

The nurse began to scream. Victoria slapped her hard, shocking her out of her hysteria. "The children, Miss. Garner. Please take the children and keep them safe. Everything will be fine."

Maria who had not long finished feeding, let the baby go and quickly kissed her children, reassuring them that everything was going to be alright. Crying, they were led away.

Miss. Garner, now regaining control, did as she was instructed and shut all the windows, pulling the shades down to cool the small room. She got the children to sit on the floor whilst she placed Rosita in a crib, which she rocked gently to calm the child. She then knelt down on the floor and allowed the children to crawl over to her for comfort. Will sucked his thumb and was resistant, wanting his mother instead.

"Oh Mother, what are we going to do?" Maria, could not hide her fear. Victoria squeezed Maria's hand. "We'll do what we have to do. I don't know what this man wants, but I know it concerns the children. Here take this gun and if you have to shoot, do it!"

Maria nodded, taking the gun, her hands trembling in the process.

Suddenly the door to the bedroom opened and Will ran out of the room, crying for his mother. Miss Garner had forgotten to shut the door and the little one had used his two small determined hands and the added leverage of standing on tiptoes to open the door.

He ran crying to his mother who tried to get him back in the room. Not wanting to go back in, he ran away from her and out on to the platform, not understanding the danger. Victoria had meant to shut it but the incident with Miss. Garner had distracted her from her task. Now both women screamed in fear as Will ran out on to the open platform, where he could fall.

No one had expected what happened next.

Unbeknownst to them, Sanchez had climbed up on to the carriage and crawled the length of the roof. More worried for the safety of Will caused by a possible tumble from the train, neither woman had seen the hand reach down to grab the boy and snatch him away from them.

As the women reached out for Will, Sanchez suspended the child over the outside of the train, threatening to drop him unless the ladies went back inside the carriage.

The Barkley women had no choice. They backed into the car, Maria pleading for her son to be returned to her. Will continued to scream as he was dangled over the edge. "Mama," he cried repeatedly and his mother's heart broke.

Heath was the first to reach the train, his athleticism making easy work of the the transfer from horse to train. Free of its rider the horse rode away. Sanchez seeing him and two riders following scrambled to the roof with the boy. Heath reached for the ladder and climbed up after him, not stopping to say anything to his mother or Maria. Maria went to follow her husband but Heath shouted. "Stay down, Maria. For the love of God, stay down!"

Victoria pulled her back into the carriage and watched anxiously as Nick's horse was next to reach the train. His transfer was less agile and at one moment it looked at though he would fall between horse and train and receive serious injury but his overall strength and determination to rescue his family won out.

He quickly embraced his mother and she indicated to the roof to show where Heath had headed. He made his way through the carriage to the other end.

Sanchez had hold of Will and was inching backwards on his back, pulling the child with him. "You're suppose to be dead," he kept shouting, trying to work out in his brain that if Heath Barkley was here, then that must mean Garcia was dead.

Panic was the last thing Heath wanted this man to do but he could see him doing exactly that whilst holding Will. At the moment he was holding Will tight, but Heath was worried if suddenly he let him go. Will was crying out for his Papa, not understanding why he could not go to him. It was a wholly terrifying experience for the child.

Beyond Sanchez, Heath could see Nick appear at the other end of the carriage, being careful not to let his presence known. It was with relief and yet anxiety Heath saw him. Though Nick had clear aim of Sanchez, to shoot at this stage would mean Sanchez would probably let go of Will with the force of the bullet. Will could even be hurt by the bullet. Will remained caught between father and uncle and neither could help him. The child's plaintive sobs broke Heath's heart just as it had done his mother's.

"Please." Heath pleaded, trying to keep his voice calm but his fear clearly present. "I don't know who you are, or what you want with my son. But please...he is just four years old. Please let me have him. He is just a boy, a frightened little boy. Look at him. I'm begging you please. Let me take him. You can get away. I won't follow you. I just want the boy."

"Is Garcia dead?" Sanchez shot out, his eyes taking in that escape was impossible, only a shoot out it would seem would see one or both of them dead. In desperation he put a gun to the child's head.

Fear grabbed Nick and he took aim but then saw Heath throw his own gun away and shout "No, don't! Look, I'm unarmed. All I want is the boy. Let me come for the boy and I will go down. I promise I wont come after you. If you hurt him, you'll hang. This way, you've got a chance to get away."

"The boy is my insurance."

"The boy is your death sentence!" Heath shot back. "Please. Let me have him." All the time Heath was talking he slowly stood up, balancing himself carefully as the train moved. He continued trying to reason with Sanchez, inching forward all the time.

"Stay where you are!" Sanchez shouted.

"Let me have him. What good is he to you now. You've got two choices, live or die. Hurt him and you die."

"Papa," Will shouted, trying to reach out to him.

Suddenly, the train lurched forward and Heath toppled, rolling off the roof, unable to stop himself until his hand suddenly found purchase with a rail. Having managed to stop his fall, he grabbed on with the other hand, his body pressed to the side of the train.

The train shunted forward again and this time Sanchez was the one affected. Looking to save himself, he let go of Will and as if seeing things in painful slow motion Nick launched himself forward to save the child. He was too far away though and Will rolled off the roof.

Heath instinctively grabbed out with one hand and caught the boy as he fell.

Seeing Nick move forward, Sanchez reached for his gun. He was not quick enough, Nick had him beat, the bullet shot Sanchez dead. Nick did not give him a second thought as he rushed to his brother and nephew's aid. "Take Will," Heath shouted up. Nick reached down and brought his nephew to safety. As soon as Nick had hold of Will, Heath grabbed the side of the train with his other hand. "I'll be back for you in a minute," Nick said. Heath nodded, not letting on how tired he felt.

Nick carefully negotiated the still moving train and handed Will down to his waiting mother. "He's safe. He's safe," he kept repeating. "They're both safe."

As soon as Maria had Will he rushed back to help Heath up. Heath swung his leg up and Nick dragged him the rest of the way up by his belt. Both men lay for a minute contemplating what had happened.

"I could have lost him, Nick." Heath finally got out.

Nick patted his brother's back, "But, you didn't. Now you got one scared little boy down there little brother and the thing he wants now more than anything is his Mama and Papa with him. Now get down there boy. Will is safe and so are you."

Heath hugged his brother, "I never thanked you for saving my life, Nick."

Nick hugged Heath back. "You and the boy being safe is all the thanks I need. Now get!"

A few moments later, Heath was reunited with his wife and children. He hugged them so tightly they thought he would never let them go. Carefully, Heath picked up Will and held him tightly. Together, he and Maria took him to the bedroom where they held him until his crying stopped and he fell asleep. Even then his father would not let him go. He spooned behind his son, and Will slept safely in his father's arms, his little hand cradled in his father's large protective one. Safe, protected, the nightmare finally over.

The Fourth of July, 1880

Heath, couldn't remember being happier. He'd beaten Nick at the wrestling and Nick had not stopped moaning since. Heath knew that it would be a source of conversation between them for days. The children had enjoyed themselves thoroughly and had thankfully not been sick with all the sweet things they had eaten. They had enjoyed a wonderful meal with friends and family and now the dance was about to start and Heath would get a chance to dance with his beautiful wife in the new dress he had bought her.

As the music began he didn't waste anytime, charmingly asking his wife to dance. Victoria looked on at the happy couple whilst she held a sleepy Nicholas in her arms, dropping kisses to the toddlers’ baby hair, crooning him to sleep.

Nick had found himself a partner and was turning on the Barkley charm. Jarrod danced with his fiancée and they made a handsome couple. Will walked hand in hand with Silas to refill his plate from the table filled with wonderful food.

It was a touching relationship. Everyone had been so protective of Will since the incident on the train, afraid to let him out of their sight, but it was Silas who taught the family to let go a little, taking Will to town with him to collect groceries and letting the family see that the child came to no harm.

Heath held Maria in his arms, welcoming the slow dance which enabled them to dance close. She felt so good, smelled so good and his kisses fell feather light to her lips. She playfully reprimanded him, striking his shoulder with her fan.

"What?" he complained, his face boyish with innocent charm. "We're married, after all." Maria relented and let his lips roam where they wanted, enjoying the attention, knowing what it would lead to that night.

They danced a couple of more dances and then Heath felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to find Don Alfredo asking if he could dance with his daughter.

Heath smiled and graciously stood back, enjoying the sight of a father and daughter finally reconciled.