Standing on the porch of the large mansion, Victoria’s gray eyes were full of worry and she took a deep breath, “Duke, the boys are three days overdue.”

Nodding, the Barkley foreman agreed, “Yes, ma’am, I know.”

“There is no telegraph office in Strawberry, however, there is one in Pine Crest. Jarrod and Nick were to wire after they reached Strawberry.” stated Victoria, her eyes scanning the horizon for a brief moment.

“Could be the wire is down, ma’am.” suggested Duke. “I could send one of the men to check with Harley.”

“I checked myself when I went to town.” informed Victoria, motioning the long-time foreman of the ranch to sit with her in the chairs on the porch. Duke waited patiently for the leader of the family to speak the thoughts on her mind. While he waited, he ran over the trail to Strawberry in his mind, going through the time required to reach the far off town.

“Duke, how did you meet Mr. Thomson?” asked Victoria suddenly, the blond on her mind most minutes of the day, the question surprising the foreman, who smiled and shook his head, his eyes drifting to the red stallion in the corral further down.

“If it weren’t for Heath, I wouldn’t be here.” sighed Duke, looking up and staring into the gray eyes peeked with curiosity. “Two months ago when I took that bull over to McAllister in Modesto, I was headed back with the cash money. I made camp and while I was eating a man staggered into my camp, groaning and holding onto his side. I thought he’d been shot or stabbed and went over to help.”

“But he hadn’t?” said Victoria.

“No, it was a set up. When I grabbed hold of the fellar, he got my gun and turned it on me. I was about ready to tussle with him and then the other one pulled his hammer back, he was behind me. I didn’t stand a chance sandwiched in between the two.”

The silver haired lady nodded, her mind playing the scene out for her. The occurrence on the trail not surprising, this land will still untamed and wild in many ways. The law was mostly in the towns and when a crime occurred further away from their eyes, it often went unpunished. The perpetrators fleeing the area or killing their victims, leaving no witnesses to describe them. In this young land, there were many stories of men riding trails who were never seen again.

“There I was in the middle of nowhere with these two yahoos, grinning and full of themselves at their diversion.” scowled Duke, the taunting of the two highwaymen still could be heard in his ears, the anger darkening his eyes at the lack of morals and the men’s preying on people instead of working.

“What happened then?” queried Victoria, placing a hand on the arm of the foreman, bringing him back to the story.

“Both of them were in front of me and I was standing there ready to make peace with my maker when we hear the sound of running horses. In all my born days, I’ll never forget it, not as long as I live and breath.” admitted Duke, leaning his elbows on his knees and looking out across the yard.

“The horses came barreling towards us, the dirt was kicking up all around and floating in the air. There was so much it blacked out the moonlight and we were coughing, the dirt was stinging our eyes. Riding behind the herd was the kid and he flew out of the saddle, knocking them to the ground. The kid is sure quick on his feet, ma’am. He sprang up and shot one of them while I was wrestling with the other one. I got the gun after I was able to slug the guy. When I stood up, he lay on the ground. I glanced over to the kid and he holstered his gun. Suddenly, he crouched down and the next thing I know the man on the ground is trying to pull a knife outta his chest. He had another gun and it was in the dirt next to him. So, like I said, if it weren’t for him I would be dead.”

“It was certainly a courageous act on Heath’s part.” sighed the silver haired lady, gray eyes filled with pride. “He could have simply turned the other cheek.”

“Yes, he could have but it would’ve went against his grain.” shrugged Duke. “That night when I made camp, I didn’t realize he and his horses were only four hundred yards from us. He was making a dry camp. That’s how he came to be at the right place in the right time. After we took care of the men, we had supper and talked.”

Chuckling, Duke sat back in the chair and glanced sideways, “Mostly I talked and he would just nod or mumble. He sure wasn’t much of a conversationalist.”

“Didn’t you have to round up the horses?” puzzled Victoria, well aware of how fast running horses could move.

“Nope. He whistled and they all walked up to him like he was their reason for living.” mused Duke. “After some pestering, he finally told me what he did. I’d heard of a kid wrangler off and on for the past two years, but I didn’t know his name and never figured to meet him.”

Smiling, Victoria winked, “At least not that way, huh?”

“Certainly not.” smiled Duke. “I could tell from the way the horses responded to him, he had the gift. I suggested he bring some horses to the ranch and said if the boss liked what he saw, it’d be worth his while.”

Nodding, Victoria sighed and let her mind wander for a few minutes until she turned to the man who’d been the Barkley foreman for the past twenty five years. He was so much more than just a hired hand to the family, to the boys who worked under his guidance from the first time they were given responsibility.

“Heath is special, Duke.” informed Victoria studying the man sitting beside her. “Do you know why?”

Clearing his throat, Duke hesitated before nodding, “Put two and two together, you got four, ma’am. I didn’t know at first til the night he whipped out that knife after Barrett attacked him. It was his eyes which gave him away. Is that why he left?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so. He overheard Jarrod and I discussing his parentage, but he only heard part of the conversation. Nick and Jarrod have gone to Strawberry to find their brother. Now they’re overdue and haven’t sent word.” stated Victoria with a frown. “I’d like you to ride to Strawberry with a couple men. I’m concerned we haven’t received word. Something’s wrong.”

“Nick won’t like that, ma’am.” suggested Duke quietly. “We’ve got lots to do and with him gone, Barrett fired, Frank out with a busted arm, we don’t have a full crew.”

“I’m sure he won’t, however, he’s not here. In my son’s absence, this is my working ranch.” agreed Victoria firmly, the lips of the foreman lifting into a smile and his eyes lighting up at the formidable firecracker housed in a petite woman.

“Write out a schedule of work to be done. Take two men with you in case the boys have run into trouble. This is work not associated with the ranch so in your next paychecks, there’ll be a little extra.”

“You don’t have to.” protested Duke.

“As I said, this is my ranch in the absence of your boss.” winked Victoria cutting off his protests. “You decide who should be in charge while you’re gone, Duke.”

“Yes, ma’am.” agreed the foreman rising to his feet. “I’ll get on it right away and we can leave today.”

Standing, Victoria squeezed the arm of the long-time employee and smiled, “Thank you, Duke. I appreciate your help.”

Patting the small hand, Duke nodded and stepped off the porch, heading for the bunkhouse and his office. The foreman’s mind preparing the list, making the plans for the trip, his heart hoping all was well in Strawberry and he’d meet up with his bosses on the trail in between.

The wind howled, the shutters banged against the side of the rotting building, the desolation of the town, a stark reminder to the blond haired woman of her lack of status, her lack of riches and wealth. Wrapping her shawl tighter around her, she stepped to the open doorway, watching her partner in life readying his horse.

“Are you sure you know where they could be?” snapped Martha, her blue eyes flashing.

“Dammit, we already went over this.” retorted Matt angrily, his temper rising with each second he went without a taste of whiskey and the knowledge of who the couple had at their mercy before it was stolen from them. Martha saw the brand on the horses of the strangers and she’d finally realized who the men were. The dreams of wealth had been within their reach, their fingertips had brushed against it before the blight on their family name took it away.

“The bastard’s ranch has to be by the mountains. It’s the only place that makes sense. It’s isolated and no one else is over there.” repeated Matt for at least the sixth time. “Sides, that guy with the smashed in head can’t ride far in his condition. They’d have to hole up for a few days.”

“I want their money, Matthew.” hissed Martha. “And I want him to pay. He took from us and we can’t allow him to get away with it.”

Nick wasn’t sure what woke him from the healing sleep he’d been in. The short time of being on his feet, moving about the cabin drained him of all energy, the pulsating pain on the side of his head making it difficult to keep his eyes open and focused. The blinding pain finally forced his big brother to thrust a glass of water laden with aspirin powder into the large trembling hands but the rancher was unwillingly to put the glass to his lips until the cool reasoning of the attorney reached through.

“Nick, you have to get better so we can get our little brother out of here. Now, drink up.” ordered Jarrod firmly, helping his weakened brother back to the pallet on the floor and gingerly laying him down.

Opening his eyes, Nick could tell he’d slept the day away and evening had fallen. The cabin bathed in a soft glow of lamp light and he wiped the sleep from his eyes with a hand no longer trembling. Sitting up at the sounds coming from the bed, he climbed to his feet, stumbling over at the anxious face of Jarrod glancing upwards, the fear in his eyes taking the breath out of the rancher’s lungs.

“No! Uncle Matt!” protested Heath, his head tossing and turning, the perspiration again seeping out of his skin, drenching his body and hair, trying to pull his arm out of Jarrod’s hands. “Don’t..touch…me.”

“What is it?” asked Nick, grabbing hold of the highly agitated blond, placing his body slightly over the combative man and stopping his other arm which was flailing about. “Steady, little brother. Settle down.”

“Nick.” whispered Jarrod, moving the bandage on Heath’s left arm, the gentle touch causing the blond to scream with pain, the agony overriding the glassy look in the depths of his orbs. The red line moving upward out of the wound on the muscular arm paling the strong face and hazel eyes filled with panic.

“My god.” gasped Nick, his eyes filling with tears, the fear clenching his heart at the sign as Jarrod laid the injured arm on the bed and moved to the kitchen cabinet, searching the bottles of herbs.

“Stop..hurts.” groaned Heath, the pain spilling tears from his eyes, the droplets mixing with the beads of perspiration. “No..more…please.”

“Shhhh, Heath.” soothed Nick, cupping the blond’s cheek before running his shaking fingers over the wet hair. “It’ll be fine. Shhhh.”

His legs wouldn’t respond, his body wouldn’t move and the fire in his arm was shooting daggers of pain throughout the limb. His small face was bruised and battered, the strong hand of his guardian sending him flying across the room. He was no match for the man who was a giant compared to his small size. His body smaller than most children his own age couldn’t stop the punishment from being doled out.

His crime was taking a piece of bread from the kitchen, his body begging for nourishment and he’d let its pangs of hunger override his common sense. Caught with the proverbial hand in the cookie jar, the blond boy quivered with fear and ran, his flight stopped when his aunt grabbed his arm as he tried to dodge her. Her brief hold on his arm before he kicked her in the shin was enough of a delay and he was knocked down from behind. She screamed in pain and demanded the bastard be taught a lesson.

Each time he tried to rise, he was struck again, each strike leaving its mark, the blows accompanied with the vile words damning his soul, damning his birth, damning his life. The door to the room was shut and the key turned. Cowering in the corner, his eyes darted around, looking for an escape route. Moving suddenly in a desperate attempt, he felt himself flying across the room, landing against the wall, his arm bone snapping under his body, the pain causing him to scream out.

A hand clamped over his mouth and he felt the worse kind of fear, the innate fear born of true evil and tears fell from his eyes, his screams muffled as the man appointed to take care of him, appointed to keep a small boy from evil felt a sense of excitement at the perverse power he held over another human being and his large hand tore at the waistband of the ragged pants.

“NOOOOOO! NOOOOO!” screamed Heath, fighting against the man holding him, the nausea rising and he struggled to get away.

“HEATH, IT’S NICK.” shouted Nick, pinning the smaller man locked in his memories to the bed, the blue eyes filled with terror and fear, shame and panic. “IT’S NICK BARKLEY! HEATH, STOP IT!”

Jarrod joined in the shouts, the men fighting to reach through the fog of delirium, fighting together to bring their younger brother back from the place he was in. The fever taking him out of the cabin, out of his small home and into a place which sent stark fear through the young man.

The thrashing stopped as suddenly as it began and the blond shivered uncontrollably, his head tossing back and forth, his moans of pain tearing at his brother’s hearts. Jarrod dumped some water in a cup and poured in some herbs, his hand shaking and he took several deep breaths to calm himself, the screaming of the blond leaving no doubt in his mind or Nick’s what happened to the boy left to grow up in Strawberry. Swallowing several times, Jarrod could feel his stomach rising up, the disgust of how their newly found sibling had been treated sickening him and sending a deadly fury through him.

“Shhhh, Heath. We’re here, little brother.” assured Nick over and over, wiping the sweat drenched face, “No one will hurt you again. I promise.”

“Niic?” groaned Heath, hearing the familiar voice, afraid to allow hope to enter his heart.

“I’m right here.” answered Nick, his reply was awarded with two dazed eyes under half opened lids.

Hissing at the pain in his arm, Heath tried to grab onto the offending area, “Argh…hurts.”

“We’ll take care of it.” stated Jarrod, his words sent the glazed blue eyes rolling over to the area of his voice. “It’s blood poisoning, Heath.”

Nick cupped the blond’s face at the fear which shot across it before he could almost sense an air of finality emerge from his younger brother. The blond seemed to have lost all coloring at the dreaded words.

“Leave…me.” whispered Heath, closing his eyes and trying to stop the tears from escaping. “Just..go.”

“NO!” shouted Nick, holding the ghastly colored face in his hands. “LOOK AT ME! HEATH! DO AS I SAY, LITTLE BROTHER!”

The strong commanding voice forced him to open his eyes, the strong hands on his hot face forced his eyes to focus on only the face above him.

“You will fight and we will beat this together.” said Nick, his voice daring the other man to argue, daring him to summon his strength. “We’re right beside you. Trust us, Heath.”

The last words reached deep into the furthest recesses of the shattered soul, seeking to rebuild the splintered being and make it whole once again. Jarrod watched with bated breath as the plea from Nick seemed to light a spark in the very sick man.

“’kay.” whispered Heath weakly, his eyes fighting the darkness, afraid to go back again.

Picking up the right hand of the blond, Nick squeezed it tightly and smiled, “We’ll be here with you, remember that.”

Nodding slightly, Heath’s eyes rolled in the back of his head and he screamed when Jarrod cut the wound and forced blood from the infected area. The blond’s body arched and the veins in his neck were distended in agony before he went limp and fell onto the bed. Nick’s hand was bruised from the sudden pressure applied at the deep pain and he prayed as he helped one brother care for another.

Jarrod wiped the blood away from the infected area, cleaning it before he poured some powdered myrrh and golden seal onto the wound. After the herbs settled into the wound, he spread a poultice of charcoal over it, sealing the area with a clean bandage.

Jumping to his feet, Jarrod flung open the door and Nick could hear the sounds of heaving for several minutes while he held onto his little brother’s hand and used a wet cloth to cool his face.

The sound of returning feet reached his ears and he stood, wrapping his arms around his older brother, offering what comfort he could. Jarrod held on tightly for several minutes, allowing himself some solace before patting the strong back and stepping back.

“We’ll know by morning or early afternoon, Nick.” whispered the first born, his fingers brushing over the pale cheek of his little brother, the man who’d been dealt some ugly, nasty cards by the hand of destiny.

The dawn of a new day went unnoticed by the men in the small cabin. Two sets of the pairs of hands and their minds kept busy throughout the night, busy applying herbs to the offensive wound, busy trying to cool the fevered body of the rambling blond.

No words were spoken between the two caretakers, each knowing what needed to be done. Their minds sending silent pleas upwards while they fought against the world of terror their patient was locked in. The frightening world uncovered only because the blond’s subconscience brought forth the past life of hell. The hell they’d only had a glimpse of briefly that first night at the ranch when he produced a knife in his unaware state of mind.

The man struggling in the depths of the fiery existence was so different than the young wrangler who’d traveled to their home with his equines. No longer did the brothers see laughter in the depths of blue. The amusement was replaced with a deep fear, the deep stark fear of the child which existed in the body of a man. The released fear was running rampant, running unabated and wild.

Jarrod unwrapped the bandage, his eyes studying the redness after he carefully cleaned the poultice away. He didn’t think the red line had advanced any further up the muscular arm but he couldn’t be sure. Taking hold of the wooden bowl containing the mixture for the poultice, the attorney was thankful for the class he’d taken on a whim in college. The Naturopathy class allowed his mind a diversion from the intricacies of the law, a diversion from case studies clogging his gray matter. The class was interesting and informative, full of knowledge which he never expected to use in a situation like this. A situation of life and death.

A question lingered on the edges of his thoughts, a question just one of many he’d found himself asking in the last weeks and Nick was startled from his own thoughts at the soft voice.

“I wonder where Heath learned about herbs and their uses. I took a class in college.” pondered Jarrod reapplying the poultice and rewrapping the arm carefully, his eyes filling suddenly with exploding emotions which shook his shoulders.

“It’s not fair, Nick!” whispered Jarrod in a harsh, shaky voice. “We grew up in a world where we knew love and have only fond memories of childhood, playing and laughing. He never had a chance to know such things. He lived with animals. My god! I want to go back to Strawberry and make them scream in pain! I want to tear open their chests to see if they were born without hearts!”

The tortured anguish in the light blue eyes matched his own and Nick reached across the small bed to squeeze the back of his older brother’s neck.

“I know, Pappy. It’s not fair.” admitted Nick firmly picking up the right hand of the muttering blond. “I’m furious too. So angry but I’m also so afraid.”

Closing his eyes briefly, Nick took a shaky breath and shook his head slightly before reopening his eyes, reaching up to wipe a sweaty cheek gently with his fingertips.

“I got questions, too. So many I want to ask. There’s so much I need to know, want to know.” scowled the rancher, his eyes watching the blond head’s move on the pillow. “Who’s Rachel? What happened to his mother? How did he come to live with them? Why didn’t father know he had another son? Why didn’t we know he was our brother? Why? Who? What? There’s so many!”

Glancing over to the side, Nick studied the profile of his older brother, the blue eyes locked on the man laying in the bed and his choked words shook his large frame, “I’m drowning with fear, Jarrod. Fear of time slipping through our fingers. I’m afraid the brother we just found may die before I can ask the questions. No, it’s not fair, but right now I don’t care. All I care about is keeping my little brother alive, keeping him safe and away from those monsters he’d been forced to live with when he should have been with us.”

“You’re right, Nick.” said Jarrod. “Let’s get Heath back on his feet and then we will have the rest of our lives to ask each other questions.”

Raking his hand through his black hair, Nick shook his head, “Mother will be worried, Jarrod. We’re five days overdue back home.”

“Yeah, I know. She’s probably worn a hole in the carpet by now. She’s small but she sure has a lot of power.” teased Jarrod, his words bringing a small smile to his brother’s tanned face.

Motioning Jarrod to follow him to the kitchen table, Nick looked into the questioning eyes and suggested quietly. “I think one of us should ride out, wire home and bring a doctor back here. How far from Pine Crest do you think we are?”

Jarrod thought about the suggestion and shrugged, “I don’t know, but we know it’s closer than Stockton. Why don’t we wait til we see how Heath is later, maybe he can ride double with one of us.”

“He’s not gonna be able to do that, Jarrod.” retorted Nick sharply before wiping a hand over his face. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, little brother. I’m worried too.” sighed Jarrod, glancing back towards the bed before looking into the hazel eyes. “I’ll go but are you positive you’re well enough to take care of Heath?”

“I’m not ready to ride a bronc but I can sit in a chair by a bed.” grinned Nick, feeling immensely better at the idea of a bringing a doctor to the remote area. “I’ll be fine, you worry about yourself.”

“I’ll saddle Jingo and head out.” smiled Jarrod wrapping his arms around the larger man. “Just keep reapplying the medicine and I’ll get back as soon as I can.”

Grabbing his gun and hat, Jarrod walked to the bed and looked down at the blond fighting with all his might against the infection and he bent down brushing his lips against the hot forehead. Standing, he wiped his eyes and squeezed Nick’s shoulder on his way out the door. Reaching the barn, the attorney quickly saddled his mount and galloped to the east, his eyes searching the bottom of the rock wall for the start of the trail. The trail was well hidden and if you didn’t know there was one, a person would never have assumed there’d be a way to scale the rock wall looming overhead.

Jingo nervously climbed the trail while his master took deep breaths to calm his unsteady nerves, the ride upward made more frightening in the day when his eyes kept straying sideways to the drop. After several minutes, rider and man topped the trail and moved away from the edge. Glancing backwards, the blue eyes could barely see the cabin which was hidden at the base of the mountain. Looking upwards, he took a bearing on the sun and rode eastward, unaware of the eyes watching as he moved further away from the haven of the cabin.

Studying the cabin for several hours, the man rose from his hiding place and walked across the expanse of yard in the daylight of the afternoon, his hand slowly lifting the latch of the wooden door, holding onto the edge and pushing open the door without a sound, without a hint to the men inside of his entry.

“Heath, com’n take a drink.” ordered Nick firmly, holding a cup to his little brother’s lips, pleading with the blond who didn’t acknowledge the words. “Please, Heath.”

The blond had steadily declined through the afternoon, his body extremely weaken, his movements stilling significantly and his mumbling ceasing. Hazel eyes filled with tears and the rancher carefully laid down the sweat laden head and placed the cup on the table. Desperation gripped his soul and he fell to his knees by the bed, holding the hot hand to his forehead and begging for help, begging for intervention from above and feeling the cold touch of metal on his neck instead.

The blade of the knife moved upward forcing Nick to follow its movement to keep it from entering his throat and slicing his jugular. The rancher didn’t dare to breath, he didn’t dare to swallow the lump of dread which found its way to his throat. He felt a hand jerk his gun from the holster and throw it across the room where it landed with a clang against the wall. The loud noise in the small area stirring the fevered man only slightly.

Holding his hands up in the air, Nick waited and was surprised when a voice whispered in his ear. “Your gods cannot help him.”

“If you’re gonna slit my throat, do it.” whispered Nick through clenched teeth, his shock at being surprised turning to anger. “Otherwise get the hell away from me so I can help my brother!”

“He is your brother?” questioned the voice in disbelief, then stating. “He was born without a father.”

“We just found out a few weeks ago we have the same father. Heath is my brother and don’t think I won’t break your neck before I die to protect him.” growled Nick, his hands clenching into fists at the soft chuckle in his ear.

“Heath is my friend and we will help him together.” stated the deep voice softly and adding after a pause. “Your anger would be better used in the fight to save his life.”

The blade of the knife lowered and Nick’s shoulders relaxed, his ears only picked up a rustle of clothing before his eyes fell upon the slender built, high cheeked lightly copper skinned man who knelt on the other side of the bed. Brown eyes filled with tenderness as he gazed upon his friend. Glancing over, the anguish in the hazel eyes sent a surge of happiness through his heart. This man would protect his young friend at all costs, he would be the one to wipe his soul free of the shadowy darkness it was surrounded with.

“Nick Barkley.” greeted Nick holding his hand across the bed, watching as it was looked at with hesitation.

“Jim Feathers.” informed the Indian, his brown eyes intently studying the offered hand before he grabbed it in his own and shook it once.

“Blood poisoning from this wound.” sighed Nick, his fear evident in his slightly trembling fingers which exposed the offensive wound.

“What is the name of the man who left?” asked Jim studying the wound and walking to the cupboard, reading the labels on the herb bottles.

“Our brother, Jarrod. He went to bring the doctor from Pine Crest for Heath.” offered Nick placing wet cloths over Heath’s forehead.

“It is too long of a ride.” stated Jim, his face without emotion as it glanced at the larger man. “It is a fool’s trip.”

Fury flashed across Nick’s face and he turned sharply, “HE NEEDS A DOCTOR! WE’RE NOT JUST GONNA LET HIM DIE! NOT WITHOUT DOING EVERYTHING WE CAN!”

The rage flowing through the air at the slender man didn’t phase him in the least, it rolled off his back like water off the duck’s back and he continued mixing his potion, setting it on the table before walking over to the bed, lifting the dead weight of the unconscious man effortlessly.

“Bring the bowl, two blankets and cloths.” ordered Jim walking to the door with his friend. Glaring at the man for a moment, Nick grabbed the items, picked up his gun from the floor and rushed to follow the man who took responsibility of his brother’s care out of his hands with that one movement.

The dusk of the day was approaching as the men walked to the west along the contours of the mountain until they reached a small stream. Nick spread one of the blankets, calm returned to his mind as he gave into taking a back seat, somehow knowing this stranger would go beyond his limits to help his little brother. This man was a friend to his little brother and his caring showed in his mannerism, in his gentle touch.

“Fire.” said Jim calmly while removing Heath of all his clothes, his hands stopping for a brief second at the gasp from the shaken man who’d seen the scarring on the blond he held forward into his chest. Glancing into the wet hazel eyes, the copper skinned man snapped harshly, “NOW!”

Jumping out of his state of shock, Nick quickly assembled a fire, laying a stock of wood beside it before kneeling on the other side of Heath, reaching out and running a hand over his hair. Hazel eyes watched as the bandage was taken off and the tip of the knife thrust into the fire. Cleaning the wound with one of the cloths, the slender long fingers reached inside a pouch, pulling out a small buckskin holder tossing it to the man across from him. Brown eyes met hazel eyes.

“The dead skin must be burned. It must be made clean from that which is deep inside. When I tell you, pour that onto the wound. Then we will deal with the fire inside his body from the uncleanliness.”

“I’m ready.” gulped Nick opening the ties of the pouch, fighting the queasiness which arose from the smell of burnt skin filling the area. Watching and pouring the contents over the wound when instructed, the mixture was lit and burned on the wound for a minute before it was washed away.

Gesturing to the bowl, Jim looked briefly into the pale face of the man across from him, the raw pain in the hazel eyes almost as if he’d experienced the pain from the cauterization and cleaning. Glancing back down, he spread the mixture over the wound and covered it with a patch of buckskin, securing it with rawhide strings.

Thrusting the bowl into the large hands, Jim instructed quietly, “Bring water from the stream. We must cool him slowly or his body will break from the two opposites.”

Nodding in understanding, Nick walked the short distance to the stream washing the wooden bowl quickly and filling it with cold water, his legs shaking with exhaustion and fear on his way back. Jim took the bowl in his slender hands, talking quietly to his white friend while slowly dripping the water onto the scalding hot skin, watching the large hands spread its coolness with the cloth.

The embers of the fire crackled and jumped about, the light from the flames reached out and caressed the faces of the two men kneeling beside the bed, their muscular arms weary from the battle they waged.

Jim Feathers glanced across at the man whose head bore a bandage and whose face was paling as the hours passed. Not fully healed himself and much to his dismay, Nick found his strength was fading and he was struggling as they fought the fever inside his blond brother.

Nick wiped the wet cloth over his brother again looking up when the slender quiet man stood and walked to the stream, dipping the bowl and bringing it back, carefully pouring the water on his warm friend.

Nick reached up and felt the fevered face with the back of his hand, changing hands and looking over into the brown eyes. “I think he’s cooler.”

“Too warm but better.” mumbled the dark haired man before gesturing towards the head of black hair.

Absently touching the bandage around his head, Nick sighed, “Compliments of Heath’s uncle.”

Grunting his disgust at the mention of the blond’s relative, Jim’s eyes burned with hatred before the emotion was wiped away. Nick picked up his cloth and started wiping the water across the warm body.

“My family owns a ranch in Stockton. That’s where we met Heath. He was delivering some horses he trained. Our foreman asked him to bring them to us.”

“Heath can look into their eyes and speak to their hearts.” offered Jim quietly, sensing something happened which bothered the other man. “If he had wings, he’d talk to the eagles.”

“I believe he would.” smiled Nick, the conversation taking his mind off his exhausted and pained body, his eyes darkening at the remembrance. “On his way off the ranch, Heath saved our mother’s life. One of our hands beat him for it and he stayed with us over a week. Jarrod realized before any of us he was our brother. Jarrod wanted to speak with our mother first before he told us and Heath who his father was. The day before Heath was planning to leave, he overheard Jarrod and Mother talking. He left the ranch in a hurry. He thinks I betrayed him by not telling he was our brother. I didn’t know just like him.”

“Your mother..” paused Jim, seeing the hazel eyes suddenly narrowing, daring him to say anything negatively about the parent. “is better?”

“She’s a very strong woman and is healing slowly.” advised Nick. “Jarrod and I went to Strawberry to find Heath, to talk to him and explain. The only building open was the hotel and we went inside to find out where he lived.”

Wiping a hand across his face, Nick scowled, the light deepening the darkness on his face. “His uncle said horrible things and I lost my temper. I was gonna throttle him when his aunt showed up behind us with a gun demanding I let go of her husband. I dropped him to the floor, he came up and busted me across the head with a bottle. I don’t remember much after that. Jarrod told me Heath jumped through the window and knocked his uncle out and got the gun away from his aunt.”

Nick ran his hand over the drenched blond hair and whispered, “Jarrod knew we were good as dead. He saved us by jumping in the window. On his way through the window, Heath cut his arm deeply.”

“The glass was not clean.” stated Jim simply. “It is the reason for his sickness.”

“He had a fever before the dive through the glass.”

Nick swallowed the lump in his throat and whispered. “We can’t lose him, we just found him. We just found our brother.”

Sighing deeply at the pain in the other’s man heart which could be felt outside his body, Jim looked over with knowing eyes, pointing to his broad chest, “I know the emptiness from the loss of a brother. If the Great Spirit shines down on us, you will not have such a pain. Not today.”

The confidence in the brown eyes took away the weariness in his body, took away the fear in his heart and replaced it with hope. Nick nodded and watched the man stand effortlessly with the bowl in hand, turning and entering the darkness of the night, heading to the stream. Moving the cloth across his brother’s face and down to his chest, Nick stopped, his fingers sensing a change in the younger man and he leaned above him.

“Heath?”

Fate. Kismet. Coincidence. Destiny.

Jarrod shook the words from his mind as he traveled away from the rock trail, picking his way through the forest, heading east. The lawyer was not positive of how much time it would take to reach Pine Crest. He estimated he was possibly at least twenty miles from the town. He was sure when Heath led them from Strawberry to his ranch, it was no more than ten miles to the spot of isolation. Ten miles to Strawberry and ten more to Pine Crest.

The sun was quickly lowering in the sky when he rounded a bend in the trail, startled at the man who suddenly appeared before him with gun in hand. Knowing he couldn’t beat the drawn gun, he jumped sideways off Jingo. The lawyer vaguely heard the report of the pistol before he felt the bullet tearing its way through his body, sending him falling to the ground.

Ignoring the pain, he rolled to his feet and ran to the safety of the trees, his lungs gasping for air and his hand trembling as he pulled out his colt, laying behind some deadfalls. Taking several deep breaths to calm himself, Jarrod suddenly felt light headed and dizzy from the sticky liquid he felt trickling down his skin.

Ripping off his bandanna with his right hand, he shoved it into the round hole in his shoulder and grimaced as his fingers felt the entrance wound. His eyes searched the area before him, his gun clenched in his hand and he felt a shiver up his spine at the maniacal laughter ringing out from the area he’d been.

“Thanks for the trail to my nephew! If you’re a lucky man, you might die before the animals sink their fangs into you! I’d stay around for the party but he’s gotta be taught a lesson first. He knows better than to take from me. When I come back, if you’re not dead, I’ll be more than happy to finish what I started.”

The sound of horses galloping away reached his ears and Jarrod fought to keep himself behind the logs, unsure if it was a ruse. The sun filtered through the trees and his lids grew heavy, his head falling onto his arm before he felt a surge of strength and he lifted his head, his eyes glancing around.

The thought of that thing finding his younger brothers moved him from his prone position. Carefully, the attorney pulled himself to the end of the deadfall, studying the forest in the fading light before climbing to his feet and staggering to the closest tree, his knees shaking from weakness and his head swimming.

His mind focused on the screams of a child surrounded by evil, the screams from his fevered brother. Taking a breath, he shoved himself away from the tree and moved to the next. Jarrod wasn’t sure how much time passed, how many trees he’d set as an objective before he reached the trail, standing in the midst of the grassy area, weaving on his feet.

Heading back the way he’d come, the first born son fell to the ground and lay with gun in hand.

Most people marry for love, some for money, some to escape. If he’d been asked why he married Martha Carson, Matthew Simmons wouldn’t have been able to give the reason why. Perhaps it was love at one time or perhaps it was because she had the female equivalent of his brutal nature. The two grew stronger from feeding off the weak and helpless around them. They seemed to revel in the pain inflicted on others of their own species. Bullies would shy away from the evilness in the pair of eyes.

Where Matt Simmons lacked a shred of decency or compassion, his sister Leah Thomson knew only gentleness in her soul. She only saw the goodness in life, the possibilities for kindness and love. She gave to others unselfishly and without thought to her own needs. If she had only two pairs of shoes and she saw someone going without, the young woman would have handed off the best pair she had to a total stranger. She’d have done it willingly and with a smile.

It was her compassionate and caring nature which saved the life of a stranger who’d been accosted and near beaten to death. She ignored the protests of the town and took the man into her home where she nursed him back to health, back to a point where the town physician had said he’d never return.

It was her compassionate and caring nature which shined through from her inner beauty, further highlighting her outer beauty, which made the amnesiac man fall in love with his nurse. His love and caring for her was real to him, real to her. He didn’t know he was already wed to another. He didn’t know he was already a father to two boys. Had he known, his own code of ethics, his prior marriage vows would not have been broken and he wouldn’t have lain with the young girl.

Leah Thomson was the gentlest person on the face of the planet and her brother was an evil incarnate who got his pleasure from pain. He never let his sister forget the shame she brought onto him and his wife from the birth of her son. The son begot of a married man from a relationship of sin.

Matt Simmons’ mind warped from years of sadistic thoughts, sadistic longings matched his wife’s and the day they were appointed guardians of their bastard nephew was the only time the couple rejoiced over the blond’s birth. The law in its infinite wisdom handed over to them a means to satisfy their craving for pain, a means of letting go their hired help at the hotel.

In their minds, this boy had brought them shame and he would pay with every inch of their beings. They made themselves feel better as they beat an innocent child into the ground, their rules they demanded the child adhere to would be bent to serve their needs and unjustly punishment would be handed out.

The one thing the couple loved more than pain was their money, their hoarded nestegg. To take from them in any way was a cardinal sin in their minds, the worst betrayal of all and the one which caused the severest of punishments.

Taking the reins of the brown horse, Matt called out to the wounded man who’d fled into the trees. Twisted in his mind he might be but only a fool would follow a wounded animal who was cornered. The man was going nowhere without his horse and he’d bleed to death by the time he would return. The animals could have the body and he’d have the horse, saddle, the contents of the saddlebags and whatever was in the pockets of the man’s clothes when he returned from wherever his bastard nephew and the second man were hiding.

The near noon high sun was beating down on the men sitting their horses in the ghostlike town. The two men watched as their foreman, Duke exited the hotel and stepped off the boardwalk, staying away from the rickety steps. Unwrapping his reins, the foreman climbed into the saddle and the men rode down the street littered with debris from the crumbling buildings.

Waiting til they reached the edge of town, Duke stopped his roan and turned in his saddle to look back at the area they’d come from. Shaking his head, he looked at the two curious men beside him, the loyal hands waiting patiently for explanation.

“A piece of advise boys.” sighed Duke. “If the Strawberry Hotel was the last piece of shelter on earth and you needed shelter to live…stay outside. Death is better than ever entering that place again.”

His curiosity was deepened by the foreman’s bizarre advise and Mike Freeman shifted in his saddle, “Did they see the bosses or the wrangler?”

“There was only a woman inside and she weren’t no help.” muttered Duke, keeping the hatred words hissed about the young wrangler, the newest Barkley son to himself. “The bosses came here to find Heath and I’m sure they got the same reception I did. Cold hearted…”

The rest of the description when unsaid and Mike glanced sideways towards Paul, lifting a questioning eyebrow. Paul frowned and shrugged before he watched the foreman looking around as if trying to decide which direction to head.

Duke was at a loss of what to do, where to go next in the search for the brothers. He’d thought they’d come across the boys headed home, he’d half believed they were only delayed from having to convince Heath to return to the ranch and now, he felt an uneasiness in his stomach. How could three men just disappear?

Paul sighed to himself, he’d been looking forward to seeing the blond wrangler again. The redhead had been intrigued by the younger man’s way with horses and the hand enjoyed watching the man work. Suddenly, he remembered a conversation and blurted out. “The wrangler’s ranch is butted up against the Sierras. He told me when I asked him where he bought the horses from. Heath told me he cut them from a herd of wild horses in the mountains.”

Nodding, Duke’s eyes lit up with hope and he replied, “It’s a big mountain range but good a place as any to start. If we’re lucky, we might be able to see the smoke from a fireplace or find a traveled trail. I sure don’t want to head back without trying every possible thing. I wouldn’t want to be empty handed when I ride back into the ranch yard.”

Voicing their reluctance at facing the strong Barkley matriarch without her two sons also, the hands readily followed the man who lead the crew with a velvet glove. Soft and tender but able to lay the granite law down when necessary. The foreman of the ranch was respected by each member of the crew and the family he worked with. The man’s morals and judgment were without question, his trustworthiness was a second skin he wore everyday.

The three men entered the Sierra mountain range two hours later, the expanse of the area to be searched daunting their spirits but no protests were voiced. Following the tracks of a single horse, the men heard a faint sound in the distance as they stopped to fill up their canteens in the mountain stream.

“Sounded like a shot.” stated Mike looking towards the west as he tightened the cap on his canteen, his eyes only seeing trees and more trees before glancing towards their captain. “You think it was?”

“Hard to say.” admitted Duke. “The mountains can play tricks with noises and echoes. Could just be a hunter if it was a shot.”

“This ain’t the time of day to be hunting.” mumbled Paul climbing back into the saddle, turning his horse to follow the others, who were following the trail of the single horse. The only recent prints they’d found other than mountain lions, deer, bears and other creatures of the woodlands.

Time passed as the men rode deeper into the mountains, the tracks of the trail not hidden and easily discernible in the mountainous environment. The meadow grasses were high, their green tops nearly reaching the underside of the horses’ bellies. Duke’s horse suddenly shied sideways, pushing into Mike’s horse. Looking down, Duke jumped off his horse and knelt in the grass, turning over the still man hidden by the carpet of green, his trembling fingers feeling the pale neck for a heartbeat.

Matt Simmons felt the familiar feeling of eagerness rise up from within him as he lay on his belly and studied the cabin in the darkness of the night. Two hours earlier, he watched as two men came back to the cabin, his eyes only able to pick out their shapes, the moonless sky not providing enough light to see by. The soft light in the cabin stood out like a beacon, calling to him, beckoning him to come closer.

...Continued