‘Destiny’ thought Nick to himself. Destiny’s hand in the form of Jim Feathers’ appearance was the only reason his brother was alive. The angry wound cared for by the skillful hands appeared tamed. The blond’s body no longer shook and shivered from the opposite temperatures the fever created in it.

Moving from the table and to the chair by the bed, he smiled tenderly at the sleeping sounds filling the cabin. The smaller man exhausted from their trek back to the cabin, actually Heath’d only walked with Nick’s help from the edge of the treeline to the front door. Jim had carried him through the forest, the man’s eyes seemingly able to see in the darkness like a cat’s, his steps sure and quiet.

After Jim had reappeared by the small fire from his unseen trip to the wooden house, the two men dressed the blond in dry clothes while Heath slept, his body wore out and he moaned when his left arm was tucked into his shirt to keep it still. The blond hadn’t woken til some taps on his cheeks slowly opened his eyes, his mind trying to understand the whispered plan. Nodding slightly, he tried to make his legs work as he was helped along by the older man, feeling as if he’d walk the entire western coastline of this great country by the time he was deposited on the bed.

Nick pulled up the jeaned legs and covered the unconscious man with a blanket before lighting a wick, sending a faint glow of light through the area. Checking his gun, he hesitated before taking the knife out of its sheath and placing the grip in his brother’s right hand. Making a mental note to himself to make sure he took it away when everything was over. Entering the two rooms, Nick shut out any prying eyes by closing the shutters, this action would force the predator to seek out the front of the house.

Lighting the stove, the dark haired man put on a pot of water, knowing he needed the hidden power inside the coffee grounds to keep him awake. The soft light from the lantern highlighting the section by the stove and up to the kitchen table, the rest of the room lay outside of its shimmering light.

Pouring a cup of coffee, he took a piece of jerky from the tin on the shelf and took a seat in a chair which stood just on the outside of the light, his body surrounded by darkness, his hazel eyes able to see the front door and front window. Methodically chewing the jerky, the man who often fought the restraint of being patient, took a deep breath at the familiar need to move rising up, the need for action as opposed to inaction. Nick didn’t like the idea of Jim Feathers outside with Heath’s uncle any more than he liked waiting like a sacrificial lamb, tied up to a stick waiting for the wolf to bare its teeth.

Shaking his head, he finished his coffee and placed the cup down on the floor, sitting up and casting his eyes to the shadowed bed where the reason for patience lay, the reason for the ruse and in his heart, he knew he’d do anything for the younger man, anything for this brother he didn’t know.

When all was said and done, when the hand of destiny was played out, Nick wondered if he’d be taking home another brother or leaving a piece of his soul behind in the mountain range which loomed up over their heads.

Frowning, Nick let out a shaky breath and put his elbows on his knees, his brow furrowed as he brought his older brother forward in his mind. Had Jarrod reached Pine Crest yet? Was he on his way back with the doctor? Would he unknowingly enter the area and unwittingly upset the plan before Jim had a chance to find Simmons?

The what-ifs and scenarios were kicked around in his mind, the questions not alleviating the torment of waiting, the anguish of how many things could happen to turn the tables back in the favor of the predator. In favor of the relative who’d given the blond nothing but pain and hurt since the time of his birth.

It nagged at his subconscience as he watched the cabin, the fleeting thought dancing on the edges of his mind and the predator scowled. His instinct told him something was wrong, something was not right with the cabin and the beckoning light. He couldn’t put a finger on it but he trusted his inner sense of survival and he moved back from his hidden spot, working his way closer to the edge of the corral nearest to the trees.

Matt Simmons trusted the innate sense within him, the feeling honed over the years of hiding in wait, waiting for his prey to enter the area of its death, carefully building his repertoire of man hunting skills. He trusted the innate sense explicitly as it had never served him wrong over the years.

Something was not right. It was almost as if he were the hunted instead of the hunter. The idea repeated in his head and he knew without a doubt, there was someone outside the cabin waiting in the darkness. There was someone who stood by ready to strike when he moved. There was someone he wasn’t supposed to know about and he stilled himself, his body merged with the shadows around him, his dark clothing not giving away his position.

Knowing he needed a diversion against the unknown element, the predator moved through the darkness, not making a sound and entered the barn, his hands feeling the hay bales stacked in one of the stalls and he entered cautiously. The sound of horses were the only thing his ears heard, the stamping of hooves and snorting filled the large building.

Opening the lid of a lantern, he quietly poured out a small amount of kerosene onto the ground by his feet. Taking a small box out of his pocket, he rubbed it into the wetness on the floor then wiped his fingers on his pants. His hunched over body and the solid wall of the stall hid the flare-up of the match, the unignited end was set into the small box and laid carefully beside the dumped accelerant.

The flame from the single match not seen outside the stall and he made his way back into the darkness, his eyes sorting out the shadows as he made his way around to the eastern side of the cabin, waiting and smiling at the fire which could be seen building in the barn. The gentle night wind helping coax the fire to burn faster and spread quicker.

Jim Feathers dashed for the opening of the barn, the crying of the trapped horses inside calling out to the man, his eyes burned from the dark smoke, the heat inside searing his lungs, sending his brachial to spasm and deep coughs wracked his muscular body, his body’s unwilling response causing him to inhale more smoke.

He stumbled after jumping to the side to avoid a falling timber, pushing onward and opening the stalls, sending the horses flying out into the freedom of the night. Emerging from the back of the barn engulfed in the fiery inferno, his legs gave out from his body craving clean oxygen, the thought of failure briefly graced his mind before he succumbed to his own weakness.

Unable to clear his mind of thoughts of Jarrod’s well-being, Nick shook his head and ran his hands over his face before hazel eyes glanced outward and he cursed. The chair falling backwards as he lunged out of it, the sight of the burning barn through the window making him forget his part of the plan. The rancher’s heart raced with fear from the building wearing a blanket of flames and he jerked open the door, automatically fearful for the animals which were trapped inside.

Stepping onto the porch, he felt the evil in the air raising the hair on his neck before his breath was taken away by a blow to his solar plexus, then quickly followed with one to his chin, his body falling sideways onto the wooden landing. Feet stepped over his crumpled form and entered the cabin.

Where there was complete darkness, a velvety blackness caused by the hidden moon was now a glow on the horizon. A glow of light. The glow rose higher and brighter against its dark backdrop. Four sets of eyes saw the orange glow and each felt a shiver in his soul.

Duke rushed to his horse, quickly saddling, his ears hearing the hand following his lead. The foreman jumped in the saddle, pushing towards the glow, using it as a beacon in the darkness of the night. His body tense with fear and he shivered at the tickle running up his spine.

Paul helped his boss into the saddle, his attempts at keeping the attorney from riding were a lack in futility. The dark haired lawyer looked sicker as the glowing light grew larger, he knew it was the barn on fire. It was the only structure around with any size and he prayed for the safety of Nick and Heath. He prayed to his father who was watching from above to keep his two sons safe and bring them home.

He could feel it. He could feel it deep in the furthermost recesses of his very soul. He fought to wake to more than a semi-conscious state, his body cried out with protest, his hand feeling the handle of its knife in his palm. His mind in a state of fogginess couldn’t reason why his weapon was there.

He was sure he hadn’t gotten it but he wasn’t sure how it came to be there. He couldn’t seem to separate his nightmares from the exhaustive state he was in. Slowly blinking his eyes, Heath felt his body tremble convulsively with fear at the sneer of contempt from the man slowly descending over the bed.

“You took from me, boy.” sneered man, emphasizing the word boy, twisting the term with his vile mouth and evilness, the tone transporting the injured man back in time.

Heath lay petrified with terror, the leering eyes making him sick to his stomach, his breaths were coming in gasps, the inconsolable fear of a small boy taking over and shuddering his body.

“You took from me, boy and you’re gonna wish you were dead by the time I’m done.”

“NO!” hissed Heath in anguish, knowing if his hated uncle were here standing over him, the boyhood friend who lit fuses with him in the mine and his brothers must be dead. The brothers he’d just found were gone, the pain at the time stolen was excruciating, the time to get to know his new brothers had been taken away by this master of evil.

The anger at what he’d lost sent a rush of adrenaline through his body and he slashed outward with the knife he held in his hand, the blade not reaching his uncle, the movement stopped by the large hand grabbing onto his arm and bashing his wrist against the night table. Crying out in pain, his fingers opened against his wishes and the knife clattered to the floor.

“You little bastard.” snapped Matt angrily, only his quick movement kept the blade from catching his body.

Pulling up his nephew by grabbing a handful of shirt, he saw the pain spread across the blond’s face before he threw the weak man bodily off the bed, watching the blond slam into the wooden floor, lying stunned before gasping in pain and trying to push himself upward with one hand, his left arm useless from the infection.

Heath gasped, his breaths ragged and tortured. He knew he was going to die, he couldn’t fight off his uncle in his weakened condition. He was as helpless as a newborn, powerless to defend himself from the brute coming towards him. He groaned as he was pulled upwards again, his legs unable to hold his weight but two hands held him in place so dark eyes, black as the ravens wing could star into light blue ones.

“I shoulda killed you long ago, boy.” sneered Matt, intent on dispensing his warped brand of justice out on the man who grew from the boy. His body responded to the thrill rising up in him, the thrill of his sickness leaving him focused on the blond he held in front of him. His black eyes glinted, his mouth almost salivating from the mental pain he heaped on the physical pain.

“Long before your whore mother pushed you out. I shoulda cut her and pulled you out. You ain’t ever been nothing but grief, a mistake I’m gonna finally right, boy.”

Blue eyes flashed with anger but his body wouldn’t respond to the fury, not with any strength behind it, not with any strength to cause serious damage. Unable to silence the man’s words with his fumbling right hand, Heath moved his head and smashed the nose and lips of his uncle.

Tears from the sudden blow appeared in the dark eyes, the smashed lips and nose bleeding with the impact, the howl of rage loud in the blond’s ears. Heath felt a moment of dizziness from headbutting the monstrous face, his lips smiling at the red he saw starting to flow. He thought for a moment about how he’d wanted to silence the words of his aunt and uncle ever since he’d been sent to live with them.

His thoughts were slapped out of his head by a backhand which sent him staggering towards the wall. Holding out his injured left arm to stop himself, he couldn’t squelch the pain of anguish from leaving his lips when the injured limb exploded in fire. The jolt sending him to his knees and forward onto the floor from the darkness rapidly moving in from the edges of his vision.

The howl of rage and the scream of pain pierced through another man’s darkness sending him stumbling into the doorway, gun in hand, pointing it at the man who seemed to fill the small cabin, the fodder for nightmares and terror standing over his little brother.

“SIMMONS!” shouted Nick, jumping sideways and squeezing the trigger at the man who pivoted around on the balls of his feet, pulling his own gun sending the flames of death from the barrel.

Nick felt more than he heard the swish as a bullet flew by his head, his own gun was bucking in his hand, his two shots lifting the man off his feet and sending him backwards to land in a crumbled heap on the floor.

Pushing himself up from where he’d landed on the floor, Nick held his gun on the large man, kneeling and feeling for a pulse. Not sad when he didn’t find one. Shoving his gun back into his holster, he carefully turned Heath over and pulled him up into his arms, the blond’s face was still but his chest was moving, drawing in air. Hearing approaching footsteps, Nick held the blond to his chest and pulled his gun, pointing it at the door.

A man coughing badly stumbled through the doorway, falling forward on his hands and knees, the brown eyes peering out from the soot covered face. The eyes, watering and barely open, from the swelling around them, the red marks suggesting falling sparks or ashes had landed on the copper face.

Putting his gun down, Nick let out a deep sigh, “You okay?”

Nodding and coughing, Jim crawled over to the brothers, his face smiling at the sight of the dead man behind the pair. Opening his mouth, he tried to talk but his throat was still overwhelmed with the effects of the smoke.

“He’s okay.” informed Nick, glancing down at the younger man with a frown. “He almost wasn’t. The fire made me forget and he almost paid with his life.”

Jim put a shaky hand on the dark shirt, shaking his head in denial before sitting back and coughing. The hacking sounds stirring the unconscious man into opening his eyes, lifting his lids only slightly.

“Hey, little brother. Everything’s fine now.” smiled Nick with relief, then teasing. “I don’t recall saying you could get out of bed though.”

The two dazed eyes looked from one man to another before a smile flitted across the pale face and he slipped into the darkness, welcoming it to take his pain away and welcoming the blanket of security the hand of destiny wrapped around his weakened body.

The smile briefly lit up the pale face, dazed emotion filled eyes greeted him then Jim and Nick felt his heart lurch in his chest. The smile said so much to the older man and he hoped the brief thought he saw in the pools of blue were not part of his imagination but part of the future.

Carefully picking up the blond, Nick set him on the bed, picking up the blanket from the floor and recovering his brother. Jim was coughing harshly and the larger man poured some water and knelt beside him, holding the glass to the singed face.

“Drink this, then we’ll take a look at those burns on your face and hands.” said Nick quietly receiving a slight nod before several glasses of water were consumed, providing a balm to the spasmodic throat, replacing the water dried inside his tissues from the heat of the inferno.

Helping Jim to the table, Nick glanced out at the barn, the wood burning and partially collapsing inward upon itself. The rancher took a deep breath to calm the adrenaline the events of the night sent surging through him before searching the first aid supplies. Twenty minutes later, Jim Feathers’ was sleeping on the floor, his face supporting a bandage covering the burns around his eyes which caused swelling, the copper skinned hands wrapped in gauze after they were lathered with ointment.

Grabbing hold of the intruder, Nick pulled him outside out of the cabin and over to the side where he wrapped him in a blanket, unceremoniously leaving the body where he stopped.

“Bet the buzzards would be poisoned if they took a peck outta you.” muttered Nick harshly, unable to fathom the unspeakable horrors the grown man had inflicted on a small boy.

‘Boy’ thought Nick, the word ringing in his head, the sound of it skirting the edge of his mind and he grabbed onto the side of the house, his knees suddenly weak. His mind relaying what his ears heard while he was working his way back to consciousness in the doorway. He could hear the vile contemptible sneering of the word ‘boy’ by the dead man. The man who’d made life a living hell for his little brother.

“I’m sorry, Heath. I didn’t know.” mumbled Nick with profound guilt, remembering the cold look in the blue eyes when they’d first met after he called the blond, boy. Then later, the harshness in the pained wrangler’s voice when he demanded Nick not address him with the single word. “God, you probably heard his voice in your head even though I was the one saying it.”

Looking down at the blanketed mound by his boots, the anger at the injustices suffered by an innocent child raked across his heart and Nick snapped, “Too bad someone like you can only die once! You shoulda had to suffer like he did and still does. It was over too quick.”

A crashing of the final support beam of the once large barn drew Nick’s eyes upward and he shook his head at the final act of destruction by Heath’s uncle. Closing his eyes briefly, he gave thanks, aware of how much more could have been lost and would have been had the monster succeeded.

Entering the cabin, Nick wet a rag and dried to erase the blood stains from the wooden floor. Sitting back on his heels, he took a deep breath and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. His own muscular frame begged for sleep, begged for relaxation from the past days full of tension and despair. Removing as much as he could of the reminder, Nick checked on his sleeping patients, his hand lingering on the cheek of the blond, hazel eyes tender and full of promise. Taking another blanket, he dropped the bar in place effectively shutting off entry to the cabin and took a place by the bed on the floor, quickly falling asleep while holding onto his gun.

His final thought before his eyes closed were of the woman Jarrod described who still resided in Strawberry. The woman whose husband he’d killed and who Pappy thought was perhaps even more heartless than the man she married.

Duke and Mike saw the glow of the fire from their position up on the ridge. The beacon of the flames guided them closer but the darkness prevented them from going any further. Searching but unable to see more than a few feet in front of them, the foreman swore and relented begrudgingly to waiting til the darkness lifted and the trail could be found.

The slow dawning of the day brought an alleviation of the darkness and it brought the other pair of men they’d left behind earlier. Jarrod’s face was pale and pinched with pain as he rode in front of Paul who was holding his boss in the saddle.

Duke stood with his hands on his hips, his eyes sparking with anger drilled into the first born son who smiled slightly, his blue eyes daring their longtime foreman to keep him behind and away from his brothers.

The smile on the face of the Barkley son was one Duke’d seen before. It was the same look of determination and bravado which had graced the face of their father. The Barkley stubbornness flowed through all his children like a rushing torrent of water down from the mountain, male or female, stubbornness was part of their souls, part of what it was to be Barkley.

Defeated before he even opened his mouth, the foreman threw up his arms and threatened, “Jarrod, your mother’s gonna hear about this!”

Four days later on legs rubbery and hesitant, Heath sighed at the male voices he heard in the ranch yard through the open door. The once serene silence of his isolated home was gone. The calming influence of the past years gone by the intrusion into his haven. His eyes fell to the dark spot on the wooden floor, his fingers trembled slightly, the presence of his uncle lingered in the small cabin he could no longer call home.

The sheriff and doctor brought from Pine Crest handled their respective jobs efficiently and professionally. The lawman accepted the events as relayed in bits and pieces from each of the participants. The Barkley name and their upstanding position in the community was one factor which cemented the validity of the stories in the lawman’s mind.

The other factor was his own previous suspicions but unfounded proof for the missing travelers who unwittingly strayed into the area of the near deserted town. The sheriff had never been able to prove the Simmons’ involvement in the cases of missing persons. It was all circumstantial with no solid evidence. Now, the lawman was confident the death of Matt Simmons would ensure the safety of future unsuspecting travelers.

The only change in the expression on the face of the lawman when the youngest and most injured man stammered through the reason for his uncle’s apparent hatred was a clenching of the lawman’s jaw and the straining of his cheek muscle. The man had heard and seen so much over the years, yet he found himself shocked at the depths of evil Simmons held inside him. Thanking the men and stepping aside to allow the physician to continue his work, the sheriff suddenly felt a need to wrap his two young sons in his arms and never let them out of his sight when he returned home.

The physician carefully examined each injured man. The medical doctor whose knowledge was learned at the best medical school in the country was intrigued at the natural method used to cure the poison out of the wound on the blond’s arm. His skepticism at the combination of herbs and cauterization had slowly dwindled away as his eyes observed the truth.

Even though the physician felt the men who’d been with the injured blond was aware of the seriousness of the wound, he sighed before professionally admitting even with his skill and knowledge, he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to stop the advancement of the blood poisoning through conventional means. All eyes had gratefully turned to Jim Feathers whose face was blistering and red from the fire. The man who preferred to meld into the background simply shrugged at the grateful looks before winking at Heath then leaving the cabin.

Treatment of rest and rebuilding of the blond’s energy and strength was given. His body had suffered a great trauma and needed to regain what it’d lost. The prominent attorney was taken to the side after the physician examined his shoulder. Stressing to the oldest the importance of the need for the blond to be in an environment which would be conducive to his convalesce. Not alone on a ranch which carried the stigma of the trauma and not alone on a ranch with no one to help ensure he didn’t overtax his injured body.

When the physician was ready to depart, the lawman strapped the ripe body of Matt Simmons to the horse Duke found tied beside Jingo in the tress above the ridge. On their way back to Pinecrest, the two professionals would deliver the corpse to the widow.

Heath’s eyes stared at the spot of darkness on the floor until a hand on his shoulder drew his eyes away.

“You okay, Heath?” asked Nick, not surprised when he entered the cabin to find the blond out of bed and dressing under his own steam.

Heath took in a shaky breath and nodded, meeting the hazel eyes briefly before looking down, whispering as he struggled with the buttons on his shirt. “His body may be cold but I still feel him all around. It hangs heavy in the air, Nick. Sometimes I swear it’s gonna suffocate me.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat at the effect the dead man had on his new sibling, Nick pushed the trembling fingers aside, finishing the chore of closing the shirt, needing the silence to gather his thoughts before speaking.

“I can’t begin to imagine what you’ve been through from having to live with those…people. I don’t know if anyone can ever understand what drives some in this world to thrive on pain and destruction.” stated Nick, moving his hand to hold the back of the blond’s neck, hazel eyes burning into blue.

“The only thing I know is you’re a man who grew up in a place full of evil. You rose above the hell which was around you. I’m proud to have you by my side. You made it through all those years, don’t let the bad memories of them steal you from me. Don’t let them win, little brother.”

The large hand on his neck, the sincerity and earnest in the deep voice brought unwanted tears to the blue pools, shimmering their depths and sending a ray of freedom through him. The larger man saw the emotions overcoming the smaller and he drew him into a giant sized hug. The blond trembled from weakness and relief, his hands entwined in the black vest. The strong arms sheltered Heath from the oppressive memories which lingered in his small home.

“Thanks, Nick.” whispered Heath patting the strong back before pulling away.

Jim and Jarrd stood in the doorway, observing the two brothers and witnessing the exchange between them. Wiping a hand over his eyes, Jarrod glanced sideways, surprised at the flaring emotion on the stoic copper skinned face, the brown eyes suspiciously sparkled with moisture. Squeezing Jarrod’s shoulder, Jim smiled slightly as he wiped his eyes and left the brothers alone.

“Brother Nick. Brother Heath.” stated Jarrod before closing the distance to the two men and smiling. “The hand of destiny has brought us together as brothers. May I suggest we take advantage of all she is granting us which is a future full of hope, full of new found riches and full of family.”

Rolling his eyes, Nick smirked as he gazed into the blue eyes of his little brother. “Remember you said he was the thinker in the family. When we get back to the ranch, I’ll show you where Silas keeps the headache powders.”

“Headache powders?” questioned Heath suspiciously. “What for?”

Putting a strong arm over the smaller man’s shoulders, Nick shook his head and sighed deeply, “Little brother, its for all the headaches you’ll get from trying to understand what our lawyer brother is saying. His ability to talk in circles can split open the hardest of heads. Sometimes I think he only wins his cases cause the jury gets tired of listening to him.”

“Well, Nicholas Jonathan Barkley, you should know since yours is the hardest head of all.” teased Jarrod with a wink to the smiling blond, blue eyes meeting blue. “You ready, Heath?”

No words had been spoken of the events which lead to the blond’s escape from the ranch over the past four days. All three were simply thankful for being able to stand by each other and enjoy the brotherly bonding which was starting anew. The time for talking would approach but for now, the men were happy with the cards being dealt by the hand of destiny and a change in dealers was not needed. For now, they would enjoy the ride and the company of each other.

It was twenty one days since he’d parted company with his childhood friend, the small blond who worked the mines with him, setting charges and trying to stay alive. The man, born of a white father and Indian mother, also knew first hand the cruelties of people’s hatred. Jim Feathers was headed back to the small village he lived in with his mother’s people on the northern border of California. He’d been on his way to the village when he chose to stop at the isolated ranch and visit with his old friend. Jim survived with one foot in the world of both parents. Never completely an Indian and never completely a white. In his heart, he knew the brothers yearned to spend the rest of their lives with Heath and surround him in light to eventually push the darkness of his past away. Perhaps understanding the blond more than any other person in the world, Jim Feathers wondered if his young friend would be able to embrace the family he’d never had since the death of his own mother.

It seemed like a lifetime ago since the three brothers, the foreman and the two hands returned to the ranch. It felt like years to the blond but it was only three weeks.

The first week on the ranch was spent close to the mansion under the watchful eyes of his siblings’ mother and Silas. Victoria Barkley had smiled with relief at the returning group, her eyes sparkling with happiness, her welcome to her husband’s son was sincere and in his mind, very generous. It was generous of this great lady to welcome him into her home, to welcome the byproduct of a love that never should have been.

Her generosity and kindness overwhelmed the young man as did many other things in the past weeks. His was a life of forced solitude before, a life of doing for himself, living for himself. Other than when he delivered his horses and checked on his elderly aunt, the blond effectively shut himself away from prying eyes, sneers and whispers.

The public proclamation of who he was, who his father was started the cycle again.

The eyes watched his every move when he went into town, so much so he felt they were literally burning through his soul, searching inside of him to see if he were the spawn of the devil. He hadn’t felt such intense scrutiny in the past five years and he was floundering like a fish out of water. Unsure of what to do, unsure of what to say, what not to say. He was feeling the pressures of what it was to be a member of the Barkley family.

Ironically, the only other time he’d been free of the community’s reactions to his birth and very presence was when he went to war, when he served in the unit of Major Binginton and even at Carterson prison. No one knew of his birth circumstances and he was judged by his actions, his skills with a rifle and by how he survived the daily horrors of the Confederate prison. There he was only known as another soldier who was unfortunate to get captured and sent to the prison. He was an individual among many of the same caliber, he could get lost in the crowd.

In Stockton, he was an individual who couldn’t blend in, who couldn’t go about daily living as others in the community did. Here he was a member of the prominent Barkley family and even worse, he was the scandalous blight on the family name. Here he was in the limelight, on center stage with all eyes focused on his every move.

The family tried to shield the man who was still a teenager from the community as much as they could. The ranch crew who’d spent time with Heath when he was known as the wrangler from Strawberry treated him as one of them. They liked the quiet man before and even though his father was discovered to be Tom Barkley, it didn’t change their thoughts in the least. They respected him for the person he’d shown himself to be, the way he had with horses and the hard work he did every day. He never shirked any job and often did more than was necessary, more than his fair share.

These past weeks was frightening to the gentle man. It was frightening to the man who seemed to be grasping at straws, dangling from the edge by only his fingertips. He wanted nothing more than to escape the contemptuous looks, the mouths whispering behind hands. He wanted nothing more than to take the turmoil away from the family who openly welcomed him, the turmoil his being in Stockton caused. He knew their public acceptance of him caused each member of the family to lose someone they considered a friend and the family to lose some business acquaintances.

Victoria watched from her window as the shadow moved across the ranchyard under the moonlight. She didn’t need to see his face to know who it was. The past week she’d heard her husband’s son quietly walk past her door, his steps light and careful. The past week she’d watch from her window, holding her breath to see if he’d return to the house or ride out.

For once in her life, the strong willed woman was unsure of what step to take next. She knew Heath was having a difficult time adjusting to his new home, his new life, and the whispers directed his way. It was as difficult for him as it were for the rest of them.

It wasn’t difficult in the sense of getting to like or even love the young man. He had a gentle soul and caring nature. He was a person who would do everything he could for those he trusted and loved. The relationship with his siblings was a testament to the genuine bond they’d built. No, it wasn’t difficult to love the newest member in the family.

It was difficult to sit by and see him slowly distancing himself, slowly stepping further away from the family he’d gained. Though they never told Heath of the testing of their friendships and business acquaintances his arrival caused, the blond was sharp minded and intuitive, his blue eyes saw all which went on around him and he instinctively knew the ramifications the family was receiving.

Nick who worked by his little brother’s side each day sensed a change in the younger man, a change he tried to get the blond to talk about. The tightlipped man simply smiled and clapped his brother on the back, teasing the older man about wanting to gossip like an old hen instead of working. Realizing Heath wouldn’t talk about whatever was eating at him, Nick hesitated but then didn’t press the matter.

The rancher was afraid of forcing his brother into a corner, afraid of the ramifications if the blond felt oppressed or about to be overpowered. He wanted to speak with Jarrod but the eldest was in San Francisco and not scheduled to be back for three days.

Nick was at a loss of what to do and he somehow knew if he didn’t find a way to give Heath a lifeline, they were sure to lose the blond, to lose the son of their father. Nick sensed the underlying tension in the newest family member and the suffocating eyes watching his every move was starting a powder keg to build inside him. It could be seen in the quick flashes of temper in the blue eyes, a quick surge before his blond brother could get back his control. His brother was a man and yet, in so many other ways, he was just a boy. A boy who’d experienced more in his short lifetime than some people do if they live to be a hundred.

This was his brother, a man who was like a wounded animal inside. A wounded animal who preferred to hide in a cave and away from all other animals. A wounded animal who would fight, bare its teeth and snap when cornered. A wounded animal whose need for self-protection had been created since the time of his mother’s death.

Gray eyes watched as the shadow moved back across the ranch yard and towards the front door. Letting out the breath she’d been holding, Victoria heard the whisper of movement on the runner in the hallway, her keen hearing picking up the sound of a quietly closed door.

Sitting down in the chair by her window, she picked up the framed photograph of her husband, the ray of moonlight showing his face to her. Her finger traced the outline of his jaw and she whispered into the still room.

“Tom, tell me what to do. Tell me how to help him, how to help Heath. How?”

Letting her tears fall from her eyes and splash down onto the picture, the Barkley matriarch recognized the irony of the situation.

The hand of destiny stole her husband away and brought to them on the anniversary of his death, his child by another woman. Now the hand of destiny threatened to steal his child away, a man she’d be proud to call son, a man who her family needed above all else, a man who filled the emptiness in their hearts.

Nick sighed and shrugged at the raised eyebrow his mother directed his way. The seat at the breakfast table opposite him remained empty and for the second morning in less than a week, Heath failed to make an appearance to dine with the family.

Jarrod frowned and pushed the food around on his plate, his happiness at arriving home early last night was quickly tempered by his middle brother’s fears and panic. The anguish at the thought of the newest member in their family leaving was clear in the hazel eyes. A late night conversation with his mother left no doubt in his mind as to the validity of the fears. The college educated man was at a loss as to how to keep the younger man on the ranch and in their lives.

Nick kissed his mother on the cheek before leaving the dining room, the boisterous member of the family effectively silenced by the lack of his younger brother at the table. Audra felt the despair in the room and covered her mother’s hand with her own, squeezing it gently.

“Heath just needs more time, Mother. This is all so new and strange to him.” offered Audra, her voice positive and reassuring.

Gray eyes filled with tenderness smiled at her young daughter who was to turn eighteen in a few months. Her compassion and love for her family shined for everyone to see.

“I know, Audra.” admitted Victoria, placing her other hand over her daughter’s, grateful for the support she was offering. “I wish there was some way to make it easier for him, to make everyone else see what we see, the man inside. If they saw him for who he is inside and not just his birth, it would make Heath’s adjustment easier.”

Nodding her blond head, Audra sighed, “You can’t always get people to see past their prejudices, Mother. Heath knows that as well as anyone, perhaps more so than any of us.”

Jarrod placed his cup on the table and tilted his head slightly, his sister’s words puzzling him. “Audra, has Heath spoken to you about how he feels? I know Nick tried to get him to open up but he hasn’t been successful.”

Turning towards her oldest brother, Audra shook her had negatively, “Not directly, no. But he says a lot without saying many words.”

Jarrod smiled and nodded his agreement, “Yes, he does, honey. With Heath, actions are better than words.”

Three faces frowned while deep in thought, their minds conjoined, focused on the young man whose past life was now nipping at his heels. Their hearts held him there securely and they wouldn’t give him up without a fight.

After leaving the breakfast table, Nick climbed the staircase, taking two steps at a time, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest, afraid of what he’d find after knocking on the closed door. Reaching down, he turned the knob and entered the room next to his, going to the closet and opening the door. His breath of relief was audible in the room at the shirts which hung there and the extra pair of boots on the floor.

Closing the closet door, his eyes fell on the paper by the bedside and he walked over, picking up the letter with the Sheriff’s signature on it. Warring with himself internally for a moment, the need to know what the letter contained won and his hazel eyes read the note.

Sheriff Brad Tucker
Pine Crest, CA

Dear Mr. Thomson,

As requested, I returned the body of Matt Simmons to the hotel in Strawberry and into his widow’s care. At that time, I suggested it would be best for all parties concerned if she took the opportunity to relocate to a place other than the deserted town of Strawberry. Mrs. Simmons declined my suggestion.

I am writing to advise you of my discovery on my last check of Martha Simmons in Strawberry. The Strawberry Hotel was still smoldering from a fire and a check of the ashes revealed a body burned beyond recognition.

There is no way to identify the remains, however, I am under the assumption it is of the proprietor, Martha Simmons. I have taken it upon myself to take care of the disposal of her remains and to advise you, her only known relative of her last resting place. She is buried in the Strawberry cemetery.

Sincerely,

Brad Tucker

“What the hell are you doing, Nick?” asked the voice harshly from the doorway, startling the older man and instantly sending the red to creep up his neck.

Turning with the letter in hand, Nick nervously cleared his throat and offered a slight smile at the fury in the blue eyes of his blond brother. The angry eyes looked at the letter before moving back to the hazel eyes causing Nick to drop the letter back on the table as if it were burning his fingers.

“I was looking for you. We missed you at breakfast.” stammered Nick sheepishly.

Glaring into the hazel eyes, Heath stated quietly, “So that gives you free rein to enter this room and read my mail?”

“No, it doesn’t Heath. I’m sorry.” apologized Nick sincerely before taking a deep breath. “Actually I looked to make sure your clothes were in the closet first cause I wanted to make sure you were still here and saw the note by the bedside.”

Crossing his arms, Heath motioned silently to the door with his head asking the man to leave while his hands clenched into fists as they rested under his arms. Nick hesitated before gesturing towards the letter.

“Why didn’t you tell us about this? You can tell us things, we’re your family.”

Heath looked past his older brother, his eyes seeking the ranch which lay outside his window, the view of the corrals helping to calm him slightly but the words were still hissed out through his clenched teeth.

“Tell you what? That I’m happy she’s dead! That I hope she suffered and felt every bit of the flames as they scorched her skin? That I hope to god she screamed in agony until her last dying breath? That I hated her as equally as him? Is that what you want to know?”

“Heath.” whispered Nick, the fury palpable in the room and he stepped closer, placing two hands on the stiff shoulders. “You got every right to wish those things. Every right to feel like you do. Every right to feel the anger you do.”

Pulling the hands off his shoulders, Heath shook his head and moved to the window, turning back slightly at the door he heard closed by his brother before the sound of his spurs signified he was still in the room.

“You’re thinking of leaving, aren’t you?” queried Nick, noting the sudden stiffening of the back covered by a blue shirt, realizing this was a now or never situation. “Don’t leave, Heath.”

“I can’t…” said Heath before stopping his words, reaching up with one hand to grip the side of the window, shaking his head. “Do you know how long I’ve fought Nick? How long I’ve struggled? Every day, I struggle to try to find some kind of peace within me. Every day, I have to fight for balance inside.”

The torment in the softly spoken thoughts moved Nick closer to the man who hadn’t turned around, his steps stopped short of the younger man.

“Heath, you don’t have to struggle alone.” said Nick firmly. “You’re surrounded by family and we’re not going anywhere.”

Pounding his fist on the side of the window, Heath turned and held out a hand to stop him when Nick moved to step closer. “There’s my problem, Nick.”

“What do you mean?” questioned the older man intently studying the younger one.

“It’s not right your mother and Audra have to hear the ugly whispers, see the pointing. It’s not right for them and not for you or Jarrod. If I wasn’t here, it would stop and your lives could be returned to normal.” sighed Heath, the pain in the hazel eyes before they glanced downward making him want to take his words back, no matter how much truth they held.

“The whispers will never stop, Nick. There’s too many small minded people who need to make themselves feel good. Maybe not as bad as Matt and Martha, but bad just the same. If I could turn back the clock, I would.”

Taking a shaky breath, Nick looked up and asked, “Are you saying you wished we hadn’t found each other, hadn’t found out we’re brothers?”

The wounded look in the hazel eyes tore right through him and Heath sighed, wiping a hand across his face before turning to grab the letter from the bedside table. Folding the parchment and putting it in his shirt pocket, Heath drawled. “Just forget it, Nick. Sometimes my mouth talks before my brain catches up.”

Grabbing onto the blue sleeved arm as the blond walked past, Nick growled while he stared into the blue eyes. “You can’t expect me to just forget, Heath! We need to talk about this. We’ve been through too much for you to just leave.”

“NICK, YA’ MAKE IT SOUND LIKE I OWE YA’ OR SOMETHING.” snapped Heath brusquely, pulling his arm out of the larger man’s grip, blue eyes filling with anger.

“DON’T TRY TO TURN THIS AROUND ON ME!” shouted Nick, the fear of his little brother leaving the ranch and the blond’s uneasiness within the community spotlight fraying the nerves of the larger man. "THAT’S NOT WHAT I’M SAYING!”

“I’M TELLING YA’ WHAT IT SOUNDS LIKE, IS ALL. JUST FORGET IT, OKAY?” hollered Heath, a knocking on the bedroom door causing both men to shout out.

“WHAT!”

The door opened and Victoria stood in the entry, her hands on her small hips, the sight of the petite woman turning both male faces red with embarrassment and shame at the shouts to her knock.

“Are you two going to need a referee?” asked Victoria firmly, hearing the raised voices and the words through the dark wooden door. “Will I need my liniment bottle?”

“No, Mother.” stated Nick running a hand through his unruly hair, his hazel eyes darkening with emotion.

“No, ma’am.” replied Heath quickly, brushing past her and heading down the hallway. “I was just going back to work.”

“Heath?” queried Victoria, her voice stopping the blond in his tracks, his back stiff before he slowly turned around to face her.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“I’d like a moment of your time please.” requested Victoria with a smile. “I was wondering if you’d mind riding with me this morning. I’d love the pleasure of your company.”

Opening his mouth to refuse, Heath’s shoulders slumped and he nodded, “Sure, Mrs. Barkley. I’ll saddle Misty for ya’.”

“Thank you, Heath.” smiled Victoria watching as the blond walked down the hallway, waiting til she heard the front door closing with a little more force than necessary.

Nick entered the hallway and offered a slight smile to his mother before leaning up against the wall, his gaze on his boots. Victoria ran a hand over his down turned cheek, pulling his head up with a hand under his strong chin.

“Shouting won’t make him stay, Nick.” chastised Victoria softly. “If you watch how Heath reacts when you yell, you can see him barely keep himself from running or jumping.”

“I never noticed. It probably reminds him of his uncle. My god!” whispered Nick, his eyes glistening with moisture. “I don’t want to lose him, Mother. I can’t!”

Holding his face in both hands, Victoria placed a kiss on the tanned forehead. “I know sweetheart, none of us do. We’ll do what we can to make this a place Heath calls home, Nicholas. But sometimes when a person’s been wounded so much inside, they never fully feel safe anywhere.”

“He felt safe at the cabin, well, before his uncle found it.” sighed Nick, wrapping his arms around his mother and leaning his cheek on the top of her silver hair. “Mother, Heath got a letter from Sheriff Tucker in Pine Crest and it had news in it about his aunt.”

“He told you?” asked Victoria surprised, pulling back and looking at her son, well aware of Heath’s seemingly fanatical need for privacy. The guilty look in her son’s eyes caused her to take a deep breath. “Nick, you didn’t.”

“I did.” admitted Nick with a shake of his head. “I came into his room to make sure he hadn’t left and saw the letter on the table by the bed. I couldn’t help it, I had to read it.”

“Oh, Nick.” admonished Victoria softly.

“Mother, I know.” stated Nick leaning his head back against the wall, his eyes searching the ceiling for answers. “It was wrong of me and I shouldn’t have done it. The hotel where his aunt and uncle lived was destroyed in a fire. They found a body in the fire but can’t identify it. It was burned too bad. The sheriff’s assuming its his aunt.”

“It could be Heath’s aunt.” informed Victoria, shivering a bit at the image of the hateful cruel people the law assigned guardianship of a small boy to. As a mother, she couldn’t imagine how an adult could hurt a child in the manner they’d subjected Heath to since the tender age of five.

“Could be or maybe it’s not.” mumbled Nick, looking into his mother’s concerned eyes. “I hope it is cause it scares me to think she’s still alive, Mother. It’d be best for Heath if it was her.”

Nodding, Victoria leaned into her son’s strong arms again before reaching up and placing a kiss on his cheek. “I need to change into my riding clothes before Heath comes up with an excuse not to leave the ranch yard with me.”

Chuckling, Nick smiled, “He wouldn’t dare, Mother. He’s scared of you, too.”

“Me?” repeated Victoria, puzzled. “I know he’s nervous around me but I don’t think I scare him.”

“I think he’s afraid he’ll be an embarrassment to you. Especially in front of your friends and the women’s circle.” shrugged Nick, frowning suddenly. “I get the feeling he feels very much like a duck out of water. Afraid of doing the wrong thing or saying the wrong thing. He probably thinks we’ll throw him out if he messes up.”

Patting the strong chest of her rancher son, Victoria nodded in agreement. “You may have something there, Nicholas. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Smiling at his mother, he started down the hallway before turning to ask, “Where are you riding to?”

Stopping in her doorway, Victoria smiled, “To the place where it all started.”

“YOU’RE NOT GOING TO STRAWBERRY, MOTHER!” exclaimed Nick loudly, rushing back towards her. “NOT WITHOUT ME!”

“Nicholas.” warned the small woman in a firm voice. “IF I wanted to go to Strawberry, I WOULDN’T need your permission. Is that clear?”

“Mother..” protested Nick, stopping when she placed a hand on his arm.

“Nick, we’re going to where I first saw Heath.” assured Victoria. “To where I first met him and he saved my life. Our first bit of common ground.”

“Oh.” said Nick, letting out a shaky breath then winking, “Okay, you have my permission then, Mother.”

...Continued