Victoria had learned in the past twenty-four hours to be thankful for even the smallest blessing, the smallest sign of encouragement.

This was one such moment of respite. Heath was allowing her to give him water from the cup she held without resistance. He sipped the cup slowly and it was taking him quite a while to finish it. Victoria didn’t mind at all as she patiently helped him to empty the cup.

One cup of water without a fight.

Victoria stroked his face with loving tenderness. “That was very good, Son.” she said.

Heath stared at the ceiling, impassive to her ministrations.

Victoria relished in this moment that he was letting her touch him. Heath’s pulse had not jumped, his breathing was steady, and not a tremor had passed through his muscular body.

“Hey, did he finish that whole cup?” Nick asked as he strode through the bedroom door.

“He certainly did!” Victoria turned and smiled at her middle son. Nick placed an arm around her shoulders as they both took pleasure in the small victory.

“Philip?” Heath’s voice was hoarse. “Where are you?”

The entire unit was pinned down under the withering blaze of Confederate firepower. Heath and the other boy had taken refuge behind a small earthen embankment.

They hunched down together, immobilized by the hail of bullets whizzing over their heads. The day was hot, but Heath knew it would be suicide to dash for the cover of the nearby trees.

The scorching sun tore through his tan and burned Heath’s body. Heath had lost his canteen in the confusion of the battle. Philip had been willing to share his water.

Philip was a new recruit. This was the first real action the sixteen year-old had seen. Heath was already a seasoned veteran.

“Don’t panic.” Heath reminded him. “Just be still and keep your head down. Reinforcements are on the way.”

Now the boy was gone!

A cannonball gouged a large hole in the earth not twenty feet from where Heath lay. A dirt and dust-filled shower rained down on him.

“Philip, get down! The Rebs have brought in heavy artillery!” Heath cried.

There was the flash and explosion of the distant row of Confederate cannons. The air whined as the balls flew toward their targets.

“Philip!” Heath caught sight of the terrified boy running erratically across the battlefield. Heath jumped up. He had to catch the boy and get him to cover.

As Heath tried to overtake his young friend, death rained down from the sky.

Cries and screams erupted all around him. Torn bodies and guns with bayonets flew into the air. The battlefield was strewn with the broken and bloody bodies of Union infantrymen, torn apart and scattered like debris.

As the dust began to clear, Heath caught sight of Philip. He lay on the ground twisted and bloody, his face contorted with his final pain.

Heath felt sickened by the stench of death that was everywhere. He knelt by Philip’s side and wept at the senselessness and tragedy of it all.

“He’s back in the war again.” Victoria shook her head sadly.

“I know, Mother.” Nick said gently.

Victoria’s heart had broken each time she witnessed Heath reliving some traumatic experience in his mind. Many of the horrific scenes seemed to have arisen out of the wartime era.

“He was just a boy!” she said. “I’d give everything I own to have had him living safely with us here at the ranch.”

“I know you would.” Nick pulled her into a closer embrace. “You look tired, Mother. You’ve taken your shift and Jarrod’s. I’m going to take over now.” He placed a kiss on her silver hair.

“I’ve been wondering how things are going in San Francisco.”

“Me, too. Maybe we’ll get a telegram from Jarrod tomorrow. I know one thing though…” Nick said with confidence. “If there’s anybody who can get to the bottom of this, it’s Jarrod!”

Victoria reached over and ran her fingers through Heath’s hair. “It’s about time to replace the cooling cloths.”

“I can handle it, Mother.”

“Alright, Nicholas, I’ll go. But call me if you need anything or begin to get a headache.”

“My head is fine, Mother. Go get some rest.”

Carlo Lucci had continued to keep a secret watch on the house. He knew from the doctor’s comings and goings and no sign of an upcoming funeral that the bastard had survived the poisoning.

Two things that Lucci kept on his person at all times were a stiletto knife and a vial containing a lethal dose of poison.

He had originally planned to slip his stiletto between the blond’s ribs. But the events at the cabin had led him to be wary of the muscular cowboy. Even caught off-guard and unarmed, the blond may have proven to be a formidable opponent.

When the opportunity had presented itself to use the poison instead, Carlo seized it. There was nothing better than a clean kill with no risk to himself.

It was an unfortunate turn of events that the town doctor was in attendance at the party. But it would only be a temporary setback.

Carlo reached into his jacket and caressed the stiletto’s handle.

Carlo Lucci took a measure of satisfaction in the fact that while the previous confrontation with Heath Barkley had left Carlo permanently scarred, the next encounter would leave the bastard permanently dead.

Tomorrow night!

Dr. Merar was pleased to see signs of progress in his patient. Heath’s temperature was coming down and his dilated pupils were showing a tiny rim of blue.

“Good!” Howard said as he finished listening over Heath’s abdomen. “I’m beginning to hear some rumbles and gurgling in there.” He patted Heath’s stomach.

“By tomorrow morning the hallucination phase should be over.” the doctor stated.

“Howard, I recall you saying that the victims of this particular poison had no memory of their hallucinations.”

“That’s correct, Victoria. Heath will have complete amnesia of the entire period of the poisoning. He will not remember the final stage of the illness either. It is what’s referred to as the ‘disorientation and loss of equilibrium phase’. This phase will last for three or four days and then Heath will be back to his old self. Just think of it like a prolonged period of alcohol intoxication.”

Nick smiled. “So Doc, you’re saying that for the next three or four days, my little brother is going to be several sheets to the wind?”

“Yes, Nick, and probably the blankets and pillowcases too. I certainly hope this boy tends to be a ‘happy’ drunk.”

The doctor pulled a bottle out of his bag. “In any event, I am satisfied enough with Heath’s improvement that I am comfortable with giving him sedation. If Heath begins to have another hallucination, give him two tablespoons of this medicine. He needs a night of undisturbed rest more than anything else right now.”

The doctor snapped the black bag shut. “See you folks in a couple of days.”

Carlo Lucci stood obscured among the trees beyond the front gates of the Barkley mansion. He watched the doctor’s buggy exit through the gates and head back to town.

Lucci sneered. This would be the last time the bastard would need a doctor’s services. It would be the undertaker the Barkley family would be sending for come morning. If things went as planned, dawn would find Carlo well along on his journey east.

This was the first and only time Carlo had defied a direct order from Jacob Crown. After a doctor had treated Carlo’s burns, Jonathan Hoak had left him alone to recover in some two-bit hotel. Hoak had also left Lucci with ample cash and explicit instructions from Crown to return to New York City. And return he would, right after he fulfilled his vow of vengeance.

In some perverted way, Carlo was glad Heath Barkley had survived the poison. His one regret had been that the bastard had not known death was coming or from whence it came.

Lucci wanted the bastard to look on his face as Lucci drove the stiletto into his heart. The last thing Heath Barkley would ever see would be Carlo’s grotesque face: twisted in ecstasy as he savored the blond’s pain and reveled in his passing.

Faintly Heath could hear the distant rhythmic rumblings of the mountain. She groaned and shuddered as she prepared to close the deep wound that had been chiseled in her side.

He had worked the mines long enough to immediately recognize the sound. The low droning rumble grew ever louder as Heath grabbed the lantern and dashed for the mine entrance. He dropped the lantern when his eyes caught the sun’s illumination streaming down the mineshaft. He thought for a moment he’d make it out until the tunnel’s ceiling suddenly collapsed in a heap of rock and splintered timbers.

When the primal rumblings had subsided, Heath found that he was pinned beneath the debris. His eyes ached, opened wide to penetrate the darkness.

“Help! Mine cave-in! Help me!” He called to no one there.

Heath could smell the pungent rocks and he reached out to touch the mine’s damp walls. The totality of the darkness lay so thick about him that Heath could feel it. A cool draft passed over him, blowing a silken cobweb across his face. The mountain bled drops of its own blood into his mouth.

Heath could sense some presence other than himself just before he drifted off into an abyss of nothingness.

“I’m glad that we could spare him the horror of that one.” Victoria said as she sat the spoon and the medicine bottle on the bedside table.

“I know, Mother.” Nick took a deep breath. “He’s out of that rotten mineshaft now. I hope the doc was right, and this will be the last hallucination.” Nick stroked his sleeping brother’s hair. “Looks like he’s out for the night, but I’m gonna sit with him anyway. Why don’t you go on to bed and get some sleep, Mother?”

Victoria felt the waning heat in the blond’s cheeks and then turned to Nick. She kissed him on the cheek. “Good night, Son.”

“Good night, Mother.” Nick said.

The night turned chilly, as the last of the sun’s warmth was gone. Carlo Lucci lurked in the darkness, his back pressed against the Barkley’s barn.

Lucci had thoroughly cased the house the night before. On the front of the house, he had noted the faint smudge of light coming from a second-story window for two consecutive nights. Heath Barkley’s room, no doubt. Carlo could just imagine the family keeping their all-night vigils. Keeping the lamps dim so as not to hurt the bastard’s eyes.

While Lucci had seen light emanating from other rooms on the front of the mansion, the windows that he watched now on the rear side had remained dark. It was an unoccupied room, he reasoned, and almost directly across from the bastard’s room.

Carlo chuckled softly. Luck was definitely with him tonight! The empty second-floor room had large windows that opened out to a small balcony. A sturdy trellis stood against the mansion’s wall just beyond the balcony. He would use the trellis to climb up to the little balcony. For a career criminal like Carlo Lucci, getting into the room from there would present no problem. Once there he would crack the door open ever so slightly and wait in the darkness, wait for his chance to be alone with the bastard.

Lucci had seen the lawyer leave the previous morning. That leaves only the two, he thought. They would tend to the bastard in shifts. But they’d have to eat; they’d have to relieve themselves. They wouldn’t be with the bastard every minute.

Lucci would be hiding in the darkness, watching and listening for whoever stayed with the bastard tonight to leave even for a few minutes.

Even a few minutes were longer than he’d need.

Nick pulled his stocking feet down off Heath’s bed, stood up from his chair, and stretched wearily. He slipped a single finger beneath each of Heath’s restraints to make sure they were just loose enough to allow blood circulation.

The room was cool. No fire had been lit in the fireplace because of Heath’s high temperature. Heath was still sleeping soundly, so Nick decided to go get an extra blanket from his own room. He thought it unlikely that Heath might awaken and need him, but Nick decided to leave Heath’s bedroom door wide open anyway.

Nick padded quietly down the hall to his bedroom. He picked up the blanket that lay folded on the end of his bed. Nick turned to leave when his eyes came to rest on the navy blue tie lying on his dresser. He dropped the blanket on the floor as he was suddenly overcome by a frantic impulse to return to Heath’s side.

After this night, Nick would never cease to believe in his mysteriously forewarning instinct in regard to Heath.

How nice of them to have the bastard tied spread-eagle on the bed, Carlo Lucci thought. How easy this would make things. His long, narrow, sharp-tipped stiletto was perfect for the job.

Carlo would stab Heath near the top of his abdomen, just below the sternum, with the handle almost flat against Heath’s stomach at an extreme angle. He would shove the stiletto leftward to the hilt and wiggle it. The stiletto would make just a small entry slit, but it would do great damage to the heart. He wouldn’t even have to worry about going between ribs.

There only remained one final detail. Lucci realized it was wisdom to simply do the deed as quickly as possible and slip back into the night. But Lucci wanted the bastard to see him. Carlo would lock stares with the bastard one last time. He would watch the life leave those arrogant sky-blue eyes. Heath Barkley’s final vision would be of Carlo Lucci’s grotesquely scarred face and cobra-like obsidian eyes.

Lucci glanced back at the open door. He saw no one and heard nothing. He grabbed the bastard’s shoulder and shook him. Heath did not respond. Lucci shook Heath even harder without response. Open your eyes bastard, Lucci’s mind screamed! He slapped Heath’s cheek as hard as he dared. Heath moaned softly and began to stir.

Nick moved with cat-like quickness to Heath’s door. His hazel eyes filled with a terrible rage.

A man stood over his brother’s bed. The left side of his face was horribly disfigured from burns. The scars extended from his temple down across the cheek all the way to the jaw line. The scar’s contraction pulled up the upper lip and bared the man’s teeth. The dim lamplight played on the long stiletto as if a drop of water slid down its blade.

Nick’s two long strides and leap were a blur as he drove Lucci into the floor like a tiger on its prey. He hit Lucci with the full force of his body and both men rolled across the floor. Out of the tangle, Nick was on his feet first but Lucci had managed to keep his knife in hand.

Lucci scrambled to his feet while keeping the tip of the stiletto pointed at his muscular adversary. Carlo had only killed by surprise or cunning, never in hand-to-hand combat. Even though it was Carlo who was armed, he saw no fear in the hazel eyes. There was a predatory gleam in the eyes of the man who stalked him, poised to attack. The dark assassin had become the hunted.

Carlo slashed wildly at the dark-haired cowboy. Moving with the nimbleness of a big cat, Nick evaded the gleaming blade as it slashed the air inches from his chest.

Carlo felt an iron grip on the hand that held the knife, even as he felt another close on his throat. Carlo strained against the relentless pressure from the powerful arms as suddenly his feet went out from under him when Nick hooked his leg around him.

As both men went down, Nick drove Carlo’s own knife deep into his heart. Carlo gasped his last breath, his vision narrowing to a dim and closing hole that encased only the face of Nick Barkley.

“Nick! I heard a commotion…” Victoria stopped mid-sentence. Nick stood over the body of a man who lay face-up with a knife embedded in his chest.

Heath! Victoria’s frantic eyes drank in the sight of him. He slept peacefully with not even a dream penetrating his world.

Nick stepped out to the banister when he heard the front door close.

“JARROD!”

Jarrod stood in the foyer, briefcase in hand, in the presence of a tall dark-haired stranger. He looked up to the second-floor and smiled. “Good morning, Brother Nick!”

Victoria hurried out of Heath’s room and joined Nick.

“Good morning, Mother!”

“Jarrod! It’s so good to have you home! And I see you’ve brought a visitor.” Victoria took Nick’s arm and they hurried down the stairway.

Jarrod embraced his mother and gave her a tender kiss on the cheek. He shook Nick’s hand warmly.

“Mother, Nick, this is Michael Davis from the San Francisco District Attorney’s Office. He traveled to Stockton with me to hand over some depositions to Judge Sullivan.”

“Welcome to our home, Mr. Davis.” Victoria said as she offered her hand.

“Thank you, Mrs. Barkley.” Mike Davis shook her hand and then shook Nick’s extended hand as well.

Jarrod’s expression became grave. “We now know the identity of the final member of the outlaw gang. His name is Carlo Lucci.”

“His name WAS Carlo Lucci.” Nick’s voice was hard-edged.

“What?” Jarrod and Mike Davis looked at Nick in surprise.

“He broke in the house last night and tried to kill Heath. Don’t worry…” Nick added quickly when he saw Jarrod’s eyes widen with apprehension. “Heath is fine. I killed that monster before he got the chance to hurt Heath any more than he already had.”

Jarrod let out the breath he had unconsciously been holding. “Let’s step into the gunroom. There is some other news that I want to share with you both.”

“Would anyone care for a drink?” Nick asked as they gathered in the gunroom. The others declined and Nick strolled to the bar to pour one for himself.

There was a thinly concealed excitement in Jarrod’s demeanor and everyone remained standing as he spoke.

“My trip to San Francisco was more fruitful than I dared hope. Dr. Merar’s tip led us straight to the corrupt doctor who had treated Carlo Lucci. The San Francisco Police detectives did not have to apply much pressure on him before he identified Jonathan Hoak as the man who accompanied Lucci. An arrest warrant was issued for Hoak and he was arrested the same evening.”

“My office gave Hoak the option of being charged as an accomplice to the murders or telling everything he knew and getting the lesser charges of accessory before and after the fact.” Mike Davis said. “We ended up wringing information out of Hoak like water from a wet rag!”

“Then Hoak admitted that it was Jacob Crown who hired that gang of murderers?” Nick slammed his drained shot glass down on the bar.

“He did indeed, Nick.” Jarrod said. “You were right all along.”

“There’s more.” Jarrod looked at Nick and then fastened on his mother’s gray eyes. “Jonathan Hoak also admitted to being present when Crown hired Father’s assassin.” He saw her body begin to tremble and tears began to well in her expressive eyes.

Jarrod took her hand. “The statute of limitations for murder never runs out. In Law, there exists a principle that is embodied in the phrase: ‘qui facit per alium, facit per se’ – he who does a thing by the agency of another, does it himself. Judge Sullivan is reading over the depositions that Mike delivered to him. By this afternoon, the judge will have issued indictments for multiple counts of murder against Jacob Crown, beginning with Father’s!”

Nick gazed heavenward and raised clenched fists. Victoria collapsed against Jarrod’s chest. He held her tenderly as she cried tears of release.

For years after her husband’s murder, Victoria had hated. She had hated with a passion and intensity that threatened to consume her very soul. Her hate had not been for the man who pulled the trigger. No, that man was long dead. The overwhelming hatred was reserved for the man who was ultimately responsible for the crime: Jacob Crown! It had seemed as though Tom Barkley’s murderer would continue to live in opulence unpunished, beyond the reach of the law. She finally accepted that not all who deserve judgment and condemnation receive it. At least, not in this world. One day, Jacob Crown would stand before a Judge who could not be bought, who was all knowing and perfect in His judgments. This realization freed her of that consuming hatred. And yet, there had been a portion of her grief that could find no closure.

“Thank you, Son.” Victoria whispered in his ear as she regained her composure.

“You’re welcome, Mother!” Jarrod’s own eyes were moist. He wiped the lingering tears from her cheeks with his thumbs.

“What about Jacob Crown?” Nick asked.

“Jacob Crown is traveling back from St. Louis to California as we speak.” Mike said. “When I have those warrants in hand, I’ll have him arrested as soon as he crosses the state line! Of course, he’ll be tried here in Stockton where the murders occurred.”

“But you wouldn’t necessarily have to arrest Crown as soon as he crossed the state line, would you Mike?”

“What are you getting at, Jarrod?” Mike asked.

“I understand that Crown is returning for a celebration the Coastal and Western Railroad Board of Directors are throwing in his honor at Hannibal Jordan’s mansion.”

Mike Davis smiled. “You are a wicked man, Counselor! I guess that’s why I like working with you so much.”

“That’s one plan I can get behind, too, Jarrod!” Nick beamed.

“Then it’s settled.” Jarrod smiled with satisfaction as well. “How is Heath, Mother?” he asked.

“He’s sleeping.” Victoria said. “But Howard believes the hallucinations are all behind him and Heath is now going into the final stage of the illness.”

“Drunk as a skunk for three or four days.” Nick added and shook his head. “The rest of this week is gonna be anything but dull.”

“Mike, if you’ll excuse us. I want to go see my brother.”

Jarrod took his mother’s arm and escorted her up the stairway. All three paused for a moment of grateful reflection as they watched the blond resting quietly on the bed.

Nick lifted the damp cloth and felt of Heath’s forehead. “Hey!” He broke into a smile. “I think his temperature is back to normal.”

Heath opened his eyes slowly. They were blue again. “Mornin.” He blinked drowsily.

“Do you know who I am?” Nick asked.

“Course I do, Nick.” I ain’t that drunk, Heath thought. “Only man I ever saw with a reverse Mohawk.”

“You got no room to be talking, Boy. Your hair looks like it’s been combed with a pillow.” Nick grumbled good-naturedly.

Heath blinked again and brought another familiar face into focus.

“Pappy!” He raised one eyebrow. “Boy howdy, I told ya that punch was spiked!”

Jarrod moved closer to his younger brother and reached out and tousled the blond hair.

“It certainly was, Brother Heath.”

When Heath was back to normal, the family would tell him the true nature of the events that had transpired. All the terrible details that Heath thankfully would not recall, they would never share with him.

“Throw your hat in the ring, Jarrod. I got your campaign slogan.”

Jarrod knew he’d probably regret it, but he asked anyway. “Which is?”

“Vote for Jarrod Barkley. Attorney-At-Law. Finest two people if there ever was one!”

“Ah… well… ah, maybe we could work on that a little more, Heath.”

“Sounded good to me.” Nick deadpanned.

“Good morning, Mother.” Heath’s eyes twinkled with delight when she stepped into view.

Victoria cupped Heath’s face in her hands and gazed lovingly into his eyes.

“Good morning, Sweetheart.”

“I’m a little bit drunk.” he whispered a confession.

“I love you anyway, Heath Barkley.” She whispered back and brushed his lips with a tender kiss.

Heath tried to give his mother a hug and realized that his arms were bound. “What’s this?” He looked over the four-point bindings in confusion.

Heath relaxed his head back into the pillow and smiled. “Nick! Turn me loose, Big Brother! I promise I’ll never steal another bow-tie!”

Jarrod chuckled at the sincerity of the blond’s declaration. “I’ve never heard a guilty party sound more genuinely remorseful, Nick.”

Nick started to loose the bindings and then he stepped back and crossed his arms. He grinned at Jarrod and winked.

“I’ll only let you go, Little Brother, if you promise you won’t make fun of my hair!”

“I won’t make fun of my hair!” Heath repeated with beguiling blue eyes and a crooked smile.

Epilogue:

For a man used to all the trappings of wealth and power, the Stockton jail was a rude awakening.

The damning testimony of Heath Barkley and Jonathan Hoak left the outcome of the trial in little doubt. Not one politician or Coastal and Western official attended the trial. The renegade railroad baron was abandoned by all to his fate.

The ruthless man that had been so callous and merciless in regard to the lives of others pleaded for the mercy of the Court to spare his own. As he was led to the scaffold, Crown revealed the depth of his own cowardice.

Jacob Crown died, the people of the Valley said, in the way that he deserved.

Horribly.