In the bewitching hour on Christmas morning Heath padded downstairs in his slippers and bathrobe. He stood at the bottom of the grand staircase, wavering between going to the kitchen for a glass of milk and onward to the living room to peek at the colourful gifts scattered underneath the tree. The tinsels glittering in the dim light beckoned him to come sit by the heap of presents. As he rhapsodized over each neatly wrapped gifts he frowned at one tiny box that appeared to stand out from the others. He stretched out his arm to pick it up. A smile flickered on his lips at the inscription: ‘To my son, Heath. Love, Mother.’

He bit his upper lip at the emotion rushing to his throat. His Mother…Why did that name sound so hollow? Why did he feel it was devoid of meaning? His sense of belonging had begun to dwindle from the moment the circumstances of his birth were exposed. He desperately struggled against the rushing tide threatening to wash away all the fond memories of yesteryears, as if to say he was not their rightful owner. He was not Heath Barkley, but Heath Sawyer. Why would something as insignificant as a name matter to him?

“You want to open it now?” the soft feminine voice invited.

The ocean-blue eyes smiled at the sweet melodious sound that could lull him into a sense of peace and serenity in times of crisis as easily as scaring the living daylights out of him when he’d get up to mischief. He lifted his eyes off his gift to gaze into her beaming grey eyes. She sat by him on the sofa and welcomed him to unwrap his present with a gentle pat on his knee. “It’s officially Christmas. Go on, open it,” she coaxed in a mellow tone.

Heath fashioned a lopsided grin at her as he proceeded to unwrap his present. Victoria kept her eyes fastened on his face to gauge his reaction at the pocket gold watch inside the box. “It was your father’s watch.”

Heath gulped down the emotion caught down his throat. “This belongs to Jarrod, not me.”

“No Heath. Your father wanted you to have it when you turned 25. Since you will be in six months and given what happened a few days ago I felt the time was appropriate. This watch holds a special meaning for it was purchased in Strawberry on the very day you became our son.”

Heath’s bottom lip trembled as he strived to retain the tears rushing to his eyes, but his mother’s hand on his shoulder was the crack that knocked down the wall, succeeding in busting open the floodgates. She cupped his chin with her hand and willed his misty eyes to hers. “You are Heath Barkley, Tom and Victoria Barkley’s son. I have never nor will I ever see you differently and neither will your brothers and sister.” He briefly lowered his eyes. “Look at me,” she spoke firmly but gently. “Nothing has changed, Heath. Our love, our respect, our devotion to you hasn’t wavered because I did not bear you in my womb. You are very special, just like Jarrod, Nick and Audra.”

Heath nodded weakly before falling into her warm embrace. He tightened the clench, wanting to cling to the highest word, and the synonym of God he felt was slipping from his grasp.

Weeks ebbed away and with them the last few tussocks of snow. The burgeoning trees and growing green grass heralded a new spring season. On this day Heath’s cherished mare, Misty Blue, was ready to foal. Jarrod, Nick and Audra were in attendance to witness the difficult birth that required Heath’s skilful hands and soothing touch to see her through successfully. With a final snort Misty Blue expelled a slimy colt that she immediately began to lick. Heath heaved a sigh of relief at the welcoming sight as each of his siblings gave him congratulatory pats on the shoulders.

“Heath, he’s beautiful,” Audra exulted, going into raptures over the small wonder struggling to stand on his frail legs. “What are we going to name him?”

“I don’t know ‘bout the rest of ya but he looks like a Charlie to me. How ’bout we name him Charlie?”

The name plunged a dagger into Heath’s heart, twisting open the already festering wound and leaving a harried expression on his face that both Jarrod and Audra were quick to notice.

“Fine, Nick,” Heath quavered as he strived to refrain his emotions from betraying him. “Whatever makes you happy.” On this crisp tone, Heath left the box and quickened the pace outside the barn.

“Something I said?” Nick wondered naively.

“Nick!” Jarrod scowled between gritted teeth. “Charlie is…”

“Awwwwwwwww crap!” Nick slapped his hand across his brow. “Dammit!” he lashed out at himself, slamming his fist into the palm of his hand.

“We’ll let Heath choose the name. After all it is his colt,” Audra proposed imperiously to his two brothers who nodded in agreement.

Nick exhaled a shuddering breath thick with remorse, one that prompted Brother Jarrod to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Cheer up, Brother Nick. I was thinking that we can’t let this eat us up. Charlie is a common name. Our logging camp operator is named Charlie. What are we supposed to do? Start calling him Peter because it might upset Heath?”

“It’s not the same, Jarrod. This here is Heath’s colt and I jumped in with this stupid suggestion for a name.”

“Perhaps you’re making more out of this than Heath does. He seemed disturbed but I’m sure he’ll be fine once the initial shock wears off.” Jarrod tugged at his brother’s shoulder with a reassuring smile. “Come on into the house. We have some celebrating to do.”

That evening after supper, the family adjourned to the parlour for a friendly game of pool. Victoria and Audra occupied themselves with knitting while the boys engaged in a fierce competition. As the evening wound down it became glaringly obvious that Heath wasn’t focusing on the game; his aloofness a sign that his mind was roaming somewhere in time. In other circumstances Nick would have whooped in excitement at winning a game over his hustler brother but this victory was bittersweet. He tried goading Heath into taking his revenge but the blond politely declined the invitation and excused himself to retire for the night. He handed his cue stick over to Nick and left the room quietly.

With a heavy heart Nick watched his brother rounded the corner and disappear in the hall, his mind screaming at him to follow. He put the cue sticks onto the table and crossed to the door.

“Nick, I think you should leave him alone,” Victoria suggested, though her inflection implied otherwise.

“I won’t bug him long. I just wanna to check if he’s okay.”

“We all know he’s not,” Jarrod remarked.

“All the more reason to get him to open up to me.” Nick marched out of the parlour and strode up the stairs to rap on Heath’s bedroom door.

“Come in.”

Nick nudged the door open and poked his head inside. “You decent?”

“I wouldn’t’ve invited ya in if I wasn’t,” Heath snorted teasingly. He was lying supine on his bed, his fingers laced behind his head.

Nick moved closer to the bed with an uneasy gait. “Look…I’m sorry about today.”

Heath frowned quizzically. “What are you talking about?”

“The colt’s name.”

“Oh that!”

“It upset ya and I’m sorry.”

“It didn’t upset me,” Heath retorted with a tinge of indignation. “I just didn’t think Charlie was a good name for him. He’s more of a ‘Rufus’,” Heath joked to lighten the mood.

“Rufus?” Nick choked on his guffaw. “You’ve gotta be kidding me?”

“Ruben then?”

“Heath, be serious!”

“I am!” Heath slowly fashioned his trademark lopsided smile that never failed to wring a toothy grin out of Nick.

“Oh you!” Nick swatted his impish little brother on the head. “Then you okay with this?”

“F’course! I came up only because I was feeling a bit tuckered out. It’s been a hectic day.”

“You sure that’s all there is?” Nick probed deeper, sensing that Heath’s eyes were belying his true emotion.

“Yeah I’m sure. No git outta of here! Lemme get some shut eyes.”

“See ya in the morning, Little Brother.” Before leaving, Nick cast a last glimpse at Heath he saw closing his eyes and rolling onto his side.

Once Nick out the door Heath shifted onto his back where he lay, staring vacantly at the ceiling. The wave of emotion he’d been holding all through the evening came crashing forth, drowning him in a sea of confusion. His only way out was to climb aboard the tiny raft he knew was to return him safely ashore. Little did he know he would embark on the darkest journey of his life.

The Barkley household was still plunged into the stillness of the first blush of the morning when Heath padded down the grand staircase with a bedroll underneath his right arm and his saddlebag slung over the left shoulder. Reaching the last step, he stopped and cast a last woeful look up to bid a silent farewell to his family before heading out the front door.

With ponderous steps, he made his way to the stables to saddle Charger and give Coco a last surgery treat. “Don’t tell your master or he’ll have my hide.“ He raked his fingers through the wavy mane. “He thinks ya don’t care for those sugar cubes.” Coco responded to Heath’s gentle touch with an amicable nudge in the shoulder, causing Charger to neigh in protest. “Why Charger! Ya wouldn’t be jealous of Coco now?” Charger bobbed his head up and down and thudded out the ground with his hoof, eliciting a few chuckles out of Heath. He turned back to Coco and patted his neck. “Goodbye old friend. Ya take care of Nick for me. Me and Charger’ll be back. I promise.”

Heath steered Charger out of the barn and with one fluid motion, swung in the saddle. This time there was no looking back as he trotted out of the barnyard to ride over to Duke’s house a few yard down the road.

“Heath! What brings you here so early?” Duke ushered his boss inside the house. “Want some coffee? It’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

“No I just came by to ask if ya can handle the workload with Nick for a few days.”

“Why are you asking?” Duke queried with an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

“I’m going on a little trip,” Heath informed bluntly. “I…I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“I take it Nick doesn’t know?”

“No. No one knows but you.”

“Can I ask where you’re headed?”

Heath heaved a sustained breath. “I don’t rightly know. I’ll go wherever the wind takes me to where I can find answers.”

“That adoption thing is still weighing heavily on your mind, isn’t it?”

“Yeah but don’t tell the family.”

“What am I supposed to say when they ask where you’ve gone?”

“Just…,” Heath gulped in a breath, “just tell‘em that I went on a short trip and that I’ll get word to them. Make Nick understand that he mustn’t follow me. I really need to be alone for a while,” Heath ended on an implying tone that left Duke mute with dismay.

“Heath, they’re going to know.”

“Maybe. I don’t wanna hurt them but I need to do this if I wanna feel like I belong.” He lowered his gaze to collect his thoughts before giving Duke a hearty handshake. “Take care, Duke. I’ll be back. I promise.”

“You make sure you do, little buckaroo. You wire us as soon as you can.”

“Will do.”

Duke walked Heath outside to his horse. Once the blond sat in the saddle, he patted his leg and threw him a friendly wink. “You take care of your little self out there. Be careful where you tread. If you need help you know where we are.”

“Thanks Duke. It’ll be all right.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You won’t have Nick’s foul temper to deal with once you’re gone,” he teased.

“You can handle Nick.”

“I learned a few pointers from the best,” he directed the compliment at its owner with a tap on the leg, exchanging one last smile with the blond before Heath nudged Charger at a light trot toward the main road.

“Heath!” Nick shouted from the bottom of the stairs while he slipped on his black gloves. “Heath, come on. Day’s wastin’.” He waited, his fist tightening around the handrail with each passing second of silence. “Arggg! Heath!” he started up the stairs when a knock at the front door forced him to retrace his steps.

“Nick. Can I talk to you for a sec.?” Duke asked the uptight man.

“Sure, Duke. Come on in. Can ya wait a minute? I’m gonna go wake Heath up. Can’t believe that boy slept in.”

“Nick. Heath isn’t here.”

Nick shot Duke a bemused look. “What? What d’ya mean he isn’t here?”

As if on cue, Victoria entered the foyer and noted the worried frown etched on Nick’s brow. “Nick? Something wrong?”

“Duke here says Heath’s not in his room.”

Victoria glanced up the stairs at the closed bedroom door.

“He left early this morning. He came by my house to tell me he was going on a little trip and asked if I could fill in for him for a few days.”

“A trip?” Nick bellowed. “He never said anything to me about a trip.”

Victoria placed her hand on her son’s arm hoping to exert a mellowing effect on his rising temper before he flared up at Duke.

“It’s something he decided at the last minute.”

“What in tarnation possessed him to do that?”

“I think I know,” Victoria chimed in with dismay, her eyes staring blankly in front of her. “He wants to know, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Duke bowed his head in answer to the question. “He said he’d be in touch and most importantly,” his eyes shifted between the two faces staring in expectation, “he assured me he would return.”

“God dammit!” Nick cursed, his teeth set in anger. “He told me last night that he was fine about the whole thing. Damn liar!” Nick grabbed his hat from the coat rack and stomped up to the door.

“Nick! Don’t!”

“Mother I gotta go after him. I know where he’s headed.”

“No Nick,” she shook her head in dejection. “He needs this time alone. You heard what Duke said: he will eventually let us know where he is.”

“Mother, I don’t like this. I’ll run into trouble I know it.”

“He’s a big boy; he can take care of himself. At least for now. We can’t force him back home. He left because he needs to find that missing part of his soul. He’ll return when he’s ready.”

“It’s all her damn fault!” Nick raged. “How dare she assumed ya told Heath he was adopted. Doesn’t she realize the damage she’s done to this family? I hope I don’t find out she did it on purpose or there’ll be hell to pay!”

“She didn’t, at least I don’t think she blurted it out on purpose.”

“I find it strange that she should show up after all these years. Why did she stop writing to ya?”

“It took me a long time to figure it out but now I believe I know the reason. Her daughter often spoke of her father being abusive and manipulating. Bea never made mention of it in her letters but I suspect it got worse and worse and didn’t want anyone to know. When I told her I was to be in Boston, she wrote something about moving to Minneapolis. That’s when the letters stopped. Her daughter didn’t even know where she was until recently.”

“Could be she revealed the truth about Heath’s birth out of jealousy and spite. Because you had a better life than she did?”

“I doubt it, Nick. I doubt it very much.”

“Are ya gonna go see her?”

Victoria shook her head negatively. “It hurts too much right now.”

Duke broke the ensuing awkward silence with a hawk. “I’ll wait for you outside, Nick.”

“Yeah. Okay, Duke,” Nick waved his hand in acknowledgment without unfastening his stare from his mother’s.

Once Duke out the door Nick moved closer to his mother to will her eyes to his. “Mother, are ya sure we’re doing the right thing about Heath?”

In a heavy sigh she said, “I don’t know, Nick.” She shook her head in dismay. “ I don’t know.”

Tumbleweeds rolling in the wind greeted Heath as he entered the one-horse town of Strawberry. He ambled through the main street, a chill creeping up his spine at the ghostly atmosphere pervading the once teeming community. He reined in Charger in front of the horse and tethered him to the hitching post, casting one last look around before making his way through the batwing doors. He strolled up to the counter and asked for a beer.

“New around here?” the bartender asked casually to engage in small talk.

“Nah. Just passing through.” Heath took a swig of beer, then wiped his mouth clean of the froth with the back of his hand. “Business bad?” Heath surmised from the empty place, save for a lone patron sitting at a corner table with his bottle of whiskey.

“This is a ghost town, friend. Get out while you can.”

“How come? I was told this was a vibrant community.”

“Ten years ago, maybe. It’s been a downhill slide ever since the mines closed. Men couldn’t make a decent living around here anymore so they packed up and left.”

“Would you know anyone by the name of Rachel Caulfield?”

“Who wants to know?” the man questioned with a distrust frown.

“Heath Barkley. She was a friend of my family’s.”

“Barkley. Stockton Barkleys?”

“That’s right,” Heath answered over the rim of his glass before taking another draught of beer.

“She lives in the outskirts of town about three miles south down the main road. It’s a small cabin with a porch and a swing in the front yard. Can’t miss it.”

“Thanks.” Heath pulled out a silver dollar and tossed it on the counter. “Keep the change.”

“Thanks,” The bartender exulted at the biggest tip he’s made in a single week.

Heath left the saloon and mounted his favourite companion to head in the given direction. On the way he passed a weedy garden with erected tombstones. He halted Charger and dismounted at the entrance of the cemetery. He crossed the decaying white arch and sauntered through the grounds, scanning every grave with the hopes of finding Leah Thomson’s. A posy of wild flowers lying at the feet of a headstone caught his sight, the name of the deceased engraved on the stone jumping at him as he neared it. He dropped to his knees and removed his hat. He swallowed hard the lump caught in his throat as he bowed his head out of respect, sending a small prayer into the heavens for the mother he never knew.

“I’m sorry for missing the chance to know ya. I was told you were a wonderful woman; caring and loving. I’m glad for one thing and that’s my family. I’ve got a wonderful mother, great brothers and a sweet sister. I’m very happy…mom,” he faltered at the last word he thought was inappropriate under the circumstances. “The last thing I wanna do is hurt them but…” he heaved a shuddering breath, “even since I found out about me being adopted I’m been missing sumpthin’. I need to find it b’fore I can feel whole again.” He eased himself up and put on his hat. “Thank ya for having me. I couldn’t’ve ask for a better life.” A small smile curled up on his lips as he traced his steps back to his horse.

He arrived at the indicated cabin with the front porch and swing. After dismounting and teetering his horse, Heath made his way up the front door.

“May I help you?” the dainty woman asked her visitor.

Heath removed his hat. “Howdy, ma’am. I was told you might be Rachel Caulfield?”

“That’s me. Who are you?”

“I’m Heath Barkley.”

“H…Heath Barkley?” she stuttered, her voice cracking with emotion at the familiar name.

“That’s right.”

“Please, come in,” she bade him enter by opening the door wider. With a bashful smile, Heath stepped inside the modestly furnished cabin.

“Let me look at you.” She cupped Heath’s head in both hands to gaze into the fetching blue eyes that captured her heart from the day he was born. “Oh yes, it’s you. Leah’s baby. My you’ve grown into a handsome man,” she mused with a tear in her eye. She pulled him into warm hug. “It’s so good to see you.” Suddenly it dawned on her that his presence in Strawberry could only be prompted by trouble back home. “Heath, what are you doing here?”

Heath ambled over to the window, his fingers fiddling with the rim of his hat. He stood with eyes devoid of expression as he blurted out, “I found out about my birth parents.”

Rachel’s heart quailed at Heath’s bombshell. She stared catatonically at the young man who turned to face her with bleary eyes. “Victoria never told you?”

Heath shook his head. “I found out by accident. It was never her intention to lemme know I was adopted. I understand her reasons but it hurts nevertheless.”

“So you came here to learn about your birth mother?”

“And my father, Charlie Sawyer.”

Rachel gasped in horror at the name, quickly averting her gaze from Heath for fear of showing her hatred of the man who had brought misery and shame to her dear friend. “Heath, you don’t want to know about Charlie Sawyer. He was a no-good drunken gambler who tortured your mother.”

“How?” Heath’s blood was simmering at the mention of torture. “Did he beat her?”

“No he never laid a hand on her physically; it was the verbal abuse. He treated her like dirt. When he found out she was with child he denied the paternity and stormed out of the house and out of her life. He never returned to enquire about the baby. The Barkleys were godsend.”

“Miss Caulfield, don’t get me wrong. I love my family but since finding out about the adoption I felt the need to learn about my birth parents. I wanna talk to this Charlie Sawyer. D’you know where he might be?”

“It’s been so long since I’ve heard his name spoken around these parts. The last I heard he was in Coreyville. He established a freight business. But that was over five years ago. I couldn’t tell you if he’s still there.”

“I’ll start there. Thanks.” Heath put on his hat and crossed to the door. Rachel hooking his arm before he could leave.

“Heath, please,“ she entreated with imploring eyes. “Forget it. You will get hurt.”

“I’m already hurting. I’m looking to heal the wound.”

“This is not the way, believe me. There’s no telling what he might do to you if…” he voice faltered at the thought of Charlie Sawyer revealing a deeper secret.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He tipped his hat and with an obliging smile left the cabin to mount Charger.

“Heath, will you do me a favour?”

“If I can.”

“Whether or not you find Charlie Sawyer, I would appreciate if you would drop by again. I’d like to get to know you better.”

“I promise.” He nudged Charger to the left then set him off at a canter.

Rachel watched the young man riding away, her heart aching at the woe that was likely to befall him. She raised her eyes heavenwards and appealed to her friend’s spirit, “Leah, please watch over your son. I know I did wrong by telling him where he might find Charlie. I hope he doesn’t. He can’t know the truth. It will destroy him and his family.”

...Continued