Arriving home to the mansion he’d built for his family, Tom helped his wife and daughter down before walking with the women into their home. Placing a kiss on his wife’s cheek, he entered the study and closed the door. Victoria stared at the closed door for several minutes before climbing the stairs to change her outfit.

The ride home from town had found all three Barkley men quiet and contemplative, their thoughts kept within the confines of their craniums. The thought provoking questions asked by his first born son left the patriarch shaking his head at himself, not liking what his legal minded son’s questions caused him to ask of himself.

Jarrod and Nick led the horses to the barn, neither speaking as they curried the large animals. Jarrod finished and stood outside the stall where Nick worked, leaning on the gate and studying his little brother.

“So, what happened?” asked Jarrod quietly. “Neither of you were bruised, so I gather no fists were thrown.”

Nick scoffed, “Pete’s sake Jarrod, we were in the church!”

“Never stopped you before, Nick.” replied Jarrod with a smile and blue eyes twinkling.

Stopping and looking at his brother, Nick growled, “I was seven when that happened. I swear in this family you can’t live anything down!”

Holding up his hand, Jarrod offered, “Alright, I’m sorry for bringing it up. I didn’t realize you were so touchy about it. Gees.”

“Well, I’m not the only boy who ever raised a ruckus from time to time.” snapped Nick, scowling and unsure of why he was getting angry over the childhood memory of a scuffle with Vince Craddock. Patting the mare on the back, he opened the stall and shook his head. “He called me, Mr. Barkley.”

Tilting his head, Jarrod asked hesitantly, “And did that bother you?”

“Yes….no.” said Nick banging a hand on the wood post next to him. “Hell, I don’t know.”

The confusion and uncertainty over the encounter flashed in the hazel eyes and Jarrod replied, “Well, Nick, he doesn’t know us. Why would he call us by our given names?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” agreed Nick.

“You sure don’t sound convinced.” said Jarrod. “Why not?”

Thinking for several minutes, the tanned face frowned and hazel eyes narrowed as he tried to capture his elusive thoughts. “It’s almost as if he knows our father’s his father but he hasn’t figured out or….I don’t know! It’s there I just can’t get it out!”

“Are you thinking he’s so focused on Father that he hasn’t fully realized he has a sister and two brothers?” suggested Jarrod. “That we’re part of his family and bound by blood?”

Slapping the post, Nick nodded in agreement, “That’s it! I think he’s thought only about Father and not what his…war with him will do to the rest of us or maybe he has and he doesn’t give a rat’s ass.”

Resting an arm over the broad shoulders and steering the younger man out of the barn, Jarrod pointed out, “Nick you’re doing an awful lot of thinking and worrying about what this Heath Thomson calls you. He may not even be our brother.”

“Don’t give me that crap, Jarrod.” snorted Nick, stopping to glare into his big brother’s eyes. “You felt it too, didn’t you?”

“I felt something, Nick.” admitted Jarrod, wondering himself if their half-brother was seeking only retribution or something greater. “However as your attorney, I would advise we wait for tangible proof.”

Poking the older man in the chest above his heart, Nick said sincerely, “What’s in there is the only proof you need, Jarrod. Just like I feel your soul, I felt his today. It’s the soul of a brother.”

Nodding to the older man who worked at the livery, the young blond walked to his hotel with saddlebags and rifle in hand. He’d spent the last twenty minutes grooming his modoc, letting his hands skillfully move the curry comb while his mind moved his thoughts in his head.

Heading through the lobby, he stopped and picked up the telegram left for him, thanking the bad mannered clerk before climbing the stairs and entering his room. Tossing his hat on the dresser and setting his gear on the bed, he sat in a chair and opened the wire, his eyes scanning its contents.

Placing the paper on the table, he sat back with legs stretched out in front of him and ran his hands through his hair. Tilting his head back, blue eyes studied the ceiling for several minutes with his fingers locked behind his head.

Pursing his lips, he let out a deep sigh and untwined his fingers, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his fingertips tapping together. Staring at the leather bags stamped with HT, he frowned and rose to his feet, walking to the bed and slowly unlatching the buckle.

Taking out the package wrapped in an oilskin, he brought it over to the table, setting it down while he opened the ink bottle and sat pen poised over paper, his eyes staring to the world outside his hotel window. Deciding what he wanted to relay, the blond wrote, folded the paper and addressed an envelope. Putting the note in the envelope, he slid it under the ties holding the package together.

Unrolling his bedroll, he quickly wrapped it back up after putting two pairs of clothes in. Grabbing the picture of his wife from the bedside table, he slid it into the saddlebag. Taking a quick look around the room, he left and locked the door, making his way to the lobby.

Stopping at the desk, the blond waited until the clerk was free. Setting the tied package on the counter, he pulled out two bills and placed them on top.

“I have to leave town for a few days but I’ll be back in about a week or so. Hold my room and don’t rent it out.”

“Alright.” replied the desk clerk, his eyes not leaving the two bills.

“These are yours if you’ll deliver this to the lawyer, Jarrod Barkley, first thing in the morning.” said Heath firmly.

“Sure, not a problem.” smiled the desk clerk, snatching up the bills. “His office is only two doors down.”

Nodding, Heath picked up his rifle and caught the man’s gaze, suggesting in a cool voice, “Unopened.”

Staring into the cool blue eyes which matched the guest’s voice, the clerk swallowed and nodded several times, squeaking out. “Yes, sir.”

Jarrod watched Nick head up the staircase, his footsteps heavy, mirroring the weight of his brother’s thoughts. Letting out a sigh, the eldest son paused for a moment before heading to the closed door of the study. Resting his hand on the knob, he didn’t turn it when the sound of his mother’s voice quietly spoke.

“Jarrod, what happened today?” asked Victoria appearing behind her first child who was ready to enter the room where her husband had sequestered himself since their return from town.

Removing his hand from the round object, Jarrod turned and smiled, placing a kiss on his mother’s cheek before leading her from the door into the parlor. “Mother, what makes you think something happened today?”

Looking up at her son’s question with an arched eyebrow, she watched a blush spread over his cheeks before she took a seat on the chair, her hands straightening out the skirt of her dress.

“I’d prefer not to bother your father right now, Jarrod, which is why I’m asking you.” stated Victoria directing he take a seat on the table in front of her. “Of course, you can try to deny something happened.”

Sitting on the marble topped table, Jarrod suggested, “I could...”

“But you won’t.” interjected his mother firmly, her gray eyes keeping locked onto his. “So, what has your brother in such a deep concentration? While your brother and father have locked horns in the past, I don’t think that’s the reason.”

“Really?” queried Jarrod leaning his elbows on his knees, encouraging his keen minded mother to continue. “Why do you think it wasn’t something between Nick and Father?”

The anticipation in the sparkling blue eyes of her son as he waited and his slight shifting when she purposely stretched out the length before she answered left her smiling inside. Her first born had been blessed with his father’s strength, his tenacity and a strong will. From her, he received a meticulous attention to detail mixed with an insatiable need for knowledge and a desire for justice.

Smiling, Victoria replied, “Because I know the men in my family and your brother went to his room instead of riding.”

“Very good, Mother.” acknowledged Jarrod.

“Did Nick meet up with Heath Thomson when he was outside waiting?”

Nodding, Jarrod sighed, “He met him at the church.”

“And?” prodded Victoria. “What else?”

“I’m not privy to all the details, Mother. Little brother is tight-lipped about most of it.” admitted Jarrod with a frown. “Heath Thomson left quite an impression on him it seems.”

“And yourself?” questioned Victoria. “What of you, Jarrod? Did you met him?”

“I only saw him ride by for a brief moment on the street, Mother.” explained Jarrod. “I didn’t meet him personally, no.”

Standing, Victoria bent and kissed her son’s forehead, “Thank you, Jarrod. Why don’t you change before talking to your father about the deed.”

Jarrod couldn’t keep the surprise off his face and he smirked, “Now, how my dear Mother did you know I was going to do that very thing?”

Tilting her head, Victoria smiled, “Because my son, you and I think alike in many ways. It appears Heath Thomson has left an impression on you also.”

“Perhaps he has, Mother.” agreed Jarrod quietly, afraid her gray eyes would fill with pain but he only saw understanding in their depths. “What of you, Mother?”

Placing a hand on his cheek, Victoria sighed, “I want it verified without a doubt. Like you, Jarrod, I’d want tangible proof before we move forward. Tangible proof of his birthright, his claims of his mother and….your father. If it’s true then not one mistake was made all those years ago but two.”

“Two?” repeated Jarrod puzzled.

“Yes, one by your father which we have already worked through.” explained Victoria. “The second by both your father and me.”

”Mother, I don’t understand.”

“We should have gone back to find out if she was with child. We didn’t and if he is a child out of that liaison, then God help us. For Heath Thomson’s life must have been a living hell and I can’t imagine him willingly backing down. To live labeled from his birth out of wedlock, he must be strong willed and a survivor.”

Closing her eyes and shaking her head, Victoria turned to leave her first born, then stopped and looked into his thoughtful eyes.

“If Heath Thomson is your brother, I don’t believe money or land would ever be enough retribution for what we unknowingly forced an innocent child to deal with all this time.”

Standing for a few minutes after his mother glided out of the parlor, Jarrod sighed loudly before heading up the stairs to his room, changing out of his suit into comfortable clothes. Hanging up his jacket, he closed the closet door and stopped by the bedside table picking up the family photograph.

Running his eyes over the smiling faces of those he loved, he was surprised at how easily he could envision another face in the group. A blond haired son standing in the back row beside his dark haired brothers. It seemed so natural, so right. Turning his head at the knock on the door, Jarrod replaced the picture and called for the visitor to enter.

Opening the door, Tom stood in the doorway for a moment before entering.

“Father, I was just coming down to see you.” said Jarrod.

Closing the door quietly, Tom crossed to the chair and sat down, handing the file he’d taken from the safe to his first born. Jarrod took the papers and sat on the bed, perusing the paperwork quickly with his trained eye before meeting his father’s eyes.

“Father which do you want me to investigate first?” questioned Jarrod closing the file and holding onto it, scrutinizing his father intently.

“His claim to the ranch comes first.” replied Tom quietly, catching the twitching of the muscle in his son’s face, a sign matching the flash of anger in the blue eyes.

“I see.” stated Jarrod standing and crossing the room to shove the file into his leather case.

“No, I don’t think you do, son.” sighed Tom heavily, trying to find the words to explain his reasons, wishing he’d had the silver tongued gift with words like his first born and his wife.

Turning slowly, Jarrod leaned against the post of his bed and crossed his arms, suggesting, “Why don’t you explain it to me then, Father. Explain why you want me to seek out the reason Heath Thomson has a claim to the ranch before his claim as your son.”

Sitting back in the chair, Tom stared into his son’s eyes and waited for the calm to return in the blue orbs before proceeding. He and Victoria raised their children to be independent and fair minded but also respectful. It was several long minutes before the lawyer in his son came to the forefront and pushed down the anger from his emotions.

Letting out a breath, Jarrod sat on the bed across from his father and nodded, “Alright, I’m listening, Father.”

“Think of all the people we, the Barkley family, employ Jarrod. All the families who depend on the money from their jobs on our ranch, plus all the other businesses in the Barkley Holdings to feed and clothe their families.” explained Tom firmly.

“Father…”

“Wait a minute, boy.” growled Tom holding up a hand and stopping any protests. “When your mother and I settled here it was only through blood, sweat and tears our dreams came true. While we built our dreams and employed others, some of their dreams came true too. They are loyal employees to our family and not to be left unconsidered. With the money from the work they do for us, they’ve sent children onto college, bought their own homesteads and been given a chance to realize their dreams.”

“I, we, have a responsibility to those people as much as we do anyone. Some of the blood spilled building up our empire was their own family members and in a way, our family. Those who work for us are part of the Barkley family, too. Heath Thomson could possibly be your brother and yes, in a way, I am putting land over a son but I have to. It is with me he has a bone to pick not with those who we employ and this is the reason I want the ranch secured first. I don’t want his anger towards me to hurt so many others.”

Digesting the reasons for a moment, Jarrod walked over to his window and stared out across the landscape, his shoulder leaning against the frame.

Turning, the oldest son pursed his lips before responding, “If his claim to the land is valid, we could have this ranch taken out from under our feet, Father but it will not interfere with the other businesses in the Barkley Holdings. I can understand your concerns for our employees but as you know, businesses fail everyday in this world and it is not uncommon.”

“Yes, they do.” agreed Tom with a quick nod. “But?”

“When he came to the house and made his claim, what did you say?” asked Jarrod quietly.

Tom looked down and tousled his peppered hair with a large hand, “He told me his mother’s name and I saw her resemblance in him. Then he made his claim but I denied it. I told him when I met Leah Thomson she said she was barren and unable to have children. So he couldn’t be my son and I told him I didn’t know what he was after but whatever it was, he could forget it. Why would she say she was if she wasn’t?”

Closing his eyes for a moment, Jarrod fought to control his fury over his father’s disregard for his mother when he lain with Leah Thomson. After several shaky breaths, he wiped a hand over his face and hissed sarcastically, “I don’t know Father, obviously, I didn’t know her like you did.”

“Careful, son, I am still your father.” warned Tom through clenched teeth.

Turning to the window again, Jarrod rubbed the back of his neck before asking, “What happened then?”

“He was furious and said he hated me all his life because of what his mama went through. He said what he wanted could have been simply the chance to know me, see me and talk to me. Then he pushed the papers at me saying now he wanted it all and he’d have it too.” sighed Tom, replaying the scene in his head as the fiery blue eyes burned into his before the blond’s departing words.

“He said ‘read this and sleep well, Father.’ Then he left shaking the house when he slammed the door. I read the papers and damn near had a heart attack!”

Shaking his head, Jarrod slapped his hand against the window frame before turning and said, “I don’t think he came here hoping to give you a heart attack. I think he came to meet his father, the man who wasn’t around when he was growing up.”

“Oh com’n Jarrod.” scoffed Tom standing on his feet. “If that was the case why’d he go through the trouble to buy the land to our home and give me a copy of it.”

Arching an eyebrow, Jarrod smirked, “Because Father, it appears this man may have inherited the infamous Barkley temper and you sure stoked the fire to it when you denied his claim.”

Leaning against the french doors, Tom watched his wife spend time in her rose garden. The sun glistened off her hair highlighting the silver strands and bathing her profile in its warmth. She was as beautiful as the day they wed, perhaps even more so as with age and years of living came a quiet confidence in her role as mother and wife. His Victoria excelled in both roles with her steadfast thinking and her giving nature.

Lifting one of the arms crossed over his chest, the founder of the Barkley empire swiped a hand down his face to stop the threatening emotions from boiling over. How could he have wronged her so long ago? How could he have been so lucky to have her stay by his side and work through their marital strives to find trust again?

It was a time of profound grief and overwhelming pain for both of them, however, she stayed true and he hadn’t. He’d been the weakest for he hadn’t imagined he’d ever find a light at the end of the pitch black tunnel they found themselves in after the deaths of two small babies born too early.

Twin blonds who only graced their world for two weeks. It was only fourteen days, yet it was long enough for their attachment to the children to be strong as steel. Their attachment to Mary and Mark was unbending and unyielding, even though they somehow knew God would be taking home the gifts he gave them within a short period of time.

He let the twins stay long enough for their deaths to rip their parents’ hearts out, twisting and twisting until they’d turned and lashed out at each other. Neither able to comfort the other for the words weren’t there, the words wouldn’t find their way out. It was easier to be angry, bitter and cast blame than to try to pick themselves up to move on.

They should have sought out each other for support and comfort in those dark times but instead after two months when the oppressive environment threatened to extinguish the very flame in his soul, he left for Strawberry. The trip was needed but he could have left it to one of his partners, instead he used the excuse given and escaped.

He made the conscious choice to leave behind his wife and two small boys rationalizing he needed to purge himself of the guilt from the twins’ deaths and the loss in his wife’s gray eyes. He rationalized until he was whole himself, he couldn’t help his wife find her way back. He rationalized his cowardly flight all the way to the mining town.

Arriving in the town just springing to life from the opening of the mine, he’d thrown himself into his work, inspecting the work of the miners, making changes and plans for their newest venture. Slowly he worked and successfully implemented the revisions to increase the ore output while ensuring the safety of the men who were digging like gophers in the wet dank hole.

He hadn’t met her until the third month he was there in the town. He had bumped into her when he was leaving the hotel and reading a two week old newspaper left on the counter. When he grabbed onto her arms to steady the small young woman, the instant their eyes met the world around them faded away.

Leah Heather Thomson’s eyes beguiled him from that moment, twin sapphires sparkling in her small perfectly framed face. It was a first meeting which turned into a friendship between a man and a woman. An innocent friendship of two adults who needed a shoulder and an ear in a town where not many were found. Both somehow needed the strength of the other to purge the unhappiness and despair within themselves.

She’d lost her husband who in reality had given her nothing but a wish to be free, yet, her guilt over the lack of sadness of his death stole into her dreams every night, torturing her with her inability to bear his children and his accusations of her being only half a woman.

He needed her laughter and friendship to chip away at the wall erected around his soul and heart over his inability to cope with the death of his twin children and his own failings as a husband.

One night after dinner in her home, he was teaching her to play poker while they shared a bottle of wine. Her contagious laughter rang through the parlor and her blue eyes twinkled with amusement. Beginner’s luck found her winning all his matchsticks and he found his hand drawn to her face, his thumb outlining the red lips in an intimate gesture never shared before between them. Two lonely people came together, unable to stop the effects of the single touch which replaced friendship with intimacy.

He could’ve blamed that night on the effects of the wine but in the morning when the light of the day was just peeking over the horizon and their eyes met the guilt flowing from him was stifling. He had given into a forbidden love and broken a trust given to him by the woman he married years before.

Even as he could see in her eyes the breaking of her own heart, Leah Thomson reached up and dried the tears on his cheeks, placed a kiss on his forehead and told him to go home to his family. He left that day and never returned.

Victoria knelt amongst her roses, the far away look in her life partner’s eyes and the guilt across his face tore at her heart. He’d made a mistake, they’d both made mistakes after the death of the twins, mistakes which drove a deep wedge between them.

It had taken time, lots of time to rebuild back up what they had before but together they had done it, succeeded where most couples would have not. What they almost lost so long ago had been put away and they moved forward as a couple, holding hands and meeting the future together. They’d flourished in their lives and been rewarded with their only daughter.

The arrival of Heath Thomson into their lives was raking open the raw feelings of the past, forcing them again to relive the pain, however, this time they’d stand together and wouldn’t run from it. If this young man was born out of that time, he was not to be blamed for he was innocent. No one could control the family, the time, the place they were born into.

Standing and catching her husband’s eye, Victoria held out her hand. Unsteadily Tom made his way to the side of his beckoning wife, taking hold of her hand and allowing her to lead him from the garden, walking away from the mansion into the surrounding acres.

Unspeaking their arms found their way around each other’s waist and together they strolled, certain of the support each would receive in the upcoming days.

Arriving into town earlier than usual, Jarrod dismounted and tied Jingo to the hitching rail in front of his office before unlocking and entering. Taking off his hat, he opened his case and brought out the file his father had given him the day before, putting it on the desk before crossing to the small pot bellied stove at the edge of the room. Starting a fire, Jarrod took the time to make coffee and pour a cup before sitting in his black leather chair, scanning the mail left for him by his secretary.

Placing the letters to the side, he sipped his coffee and opened the file, going over the notes he had made the night before. Lifting his eyes to the portrait of his family, he sighed and let his mind wander to the night before.

His parents, their mood quiet and reflective excused themselves early, holding hands as they headed upstairs. Audra beat her unattentive brother Nick in two games of checkers before excusing herself and heading up to her bedroom. The blond girl was confused and concerned at her family members’ deep thoughts during this day and she was growing frustrated at their lack of sharing with her.

All the way into town he internally warred with himself fighting the desire to search out where Heath Thomson was staying in Stockton and speak to the young man himself. It had taken a great effort on his part to keep his curiosity at bay and rein in at his office.

Jarrod shook his head and picked up a pencil, returning to his notes and the papers before him. He meticulously scanned the thirty year old documents, each word read and dwelled upon, his fingers tapping the pencil on the desk in the unconscious rhythm of a melody. His mind worked over the words seeking any kind of leg for his family to stand on against one who threatened to pull the rug out from under their boots.

“Mr. Barkley?”

Startled, Jarrod looked up into the face of the desk clerk who was standing in his doorway. Putting down the pencil, he smiled and walked around the desk. “Morning, Mr. Jenkins. What can I do for you?”

Holding out the package, the desk clerk thrust it towards the suave attorney from the prominent family. “One of our guests asked I bring this to you. Paid extra to make sure you got it first thing. I would’ve delivered it earlier but I didn’t see you ride in.”

Jarrod took the oilskin package wrapped in string and glanced at the writing on the note before replying. “Thank you, Mr. Jenkins. Oh, who…”

The man was out the outer door and gone before Jarrod could ask who gave him the package. Closing the inner door to his office, he moved his papers and carefully untied the string before opening the note addressed to Jarrod T Barkley, his mouth drying when he read the signature first.

Lifting his eyes to the top of the paper, he let out a shaky breath and started reading.

Mr. J. T. Barkley,

As mentioned in the meeting of this morning with your father, Thomas Jonathan Barkley, the proof of my claim is contained in this package. These items were found in my mother’s home after her death. I was unaware of their existence until that time.

I shall entrust them to your care as your reputation for honesty and integrity is well known and unquestioned. I have left Stockton to oversee some matters of business, however, I will return in due course.

Upon my return, I will expect the documents to be returned intact, however, the jewelry items may be returned to your father to whom they rightfully belong.

Heath Thomson

Shaky hands laid the letter down and wiped the sweat gathering on his forehead. Rubbing the wet palms on his pants leg, Jarrod picked up the letter and reread the words again.

Pulling the oilskin wrapping open long fingers picked up the cufflink, the gold initials TJ were outlined in the black onyx. Closing his eyes, Jarrod could see it’s missing twin in the box on the dresser in their father’s room when he borrowed a tie pin at one time for he had been taken with the simplistic beauty of the cufflink and sorrowed there were not two.

Letting out a hissing breath and trying to still the thundering in his chest, he picked up the pocketwatch and stared at it. Opening the tarnished lid, he ran his fingers over the scripted name before seeing the faded date inside, then snapped it shut.

Dropping the watch onto the desk, he held his head in his hands and let his body tremble uncontrollably. The watch had been given to his father by his grandfather when he married their mother. The date inside was the date of their wedding anniversary. He could remember as a small boy sitting on this father’s lap and being allowed to play with the present passed from father to son.

Jarrod took the time he needed to gain a small amount of control. The attorney found himself torn between despair and anger. His anger was towards his father and his straying from the sacred vows of matrimony. His despair for what Heath Thomson must have felt when he found the items after a lifetime of no doubt searching for answers.

Entwining his hands together, he rested them against his forehead and stared at the folded papers lying on the opened oilskin between the opening in his arms. Raising his head, he picked up his cup and walked to the stove refreshing it before retaking his seat at the desk.

Picking up the papers, he opened them and saw the original birth certificate, a match to the certified copied in the file on his desk. Studying it carefully, he was confident of its originality and authenticity. Setting it to the side, he stared at the two envelopes he held in either hand.

One addressed to Miss Leah Thomson with a Stockton postmark. The other to his father with L H Thomson in the left hand corner and without a postmark. She had written to his father but appeared to have never posted it. Both were opened and he carefully pulled out the contents of his father’s letter, wetting his arid lips before he read.

Dear Leah,

There are no words to express my profound sadness over the pain I have caused you. I believe our meeting was destined to help us both overcome the difficulties in our lives with a mutual offering of hands extended in friendship. I allowed my loneliness to make our friendship into something which should never have been. I was weak and could only hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me.

You are a special person who will make the right man happy one day. I am not that man for I have always been and will always be in love with only one woman, my wife Victoria. When you find the man of your dreams I hope you marry and have many wonderful years together.

I will eternally cherish the light you helped me refind within myself and hope at some time in the years ahead, you will be able to look back on our time with a sense of friendship and without pain.

Sincerely,

Thomas

Sliding open his drawer, Jarrod took out a small flask and hesitated a moment before pouring a good amount of brandy into the black contents of the mug. Taking a drink, he let the liquid courage warm him and still his tremors before opening the second envelope.

Dear Thomas,

It is two months since I received your letter. I have read it so many times since I’m afraid I’ll wear the paper out from handling it. I also believed we were destined to meet, however, for reasons different from yours.

I welcomed your friendship during those difficult times and admire the love you have for your wife. I know your family means everything in the world to you and this is why I find it difficult to tell you my news.

The month after you left I discovered I was with child, your child is growing inside me. My happiness is overshadowed with worry for I am unwed, however, you are not. Your position in the community and the small family you have already are the reasons I worry. This unborn child is yours but not your wife’s and the scandal it would create fills me with shudders.

I will cherish this child, a gift from our one night. A blessing given to us even though it would have seemed impossible. As you can see, I am deeply torn and unsure of how to proceed but feel you deserve the right to know. I am filled with regret at the thought of what this will do to you and your family when they learn of this baby.

Sincerely,

Leah

Leaving the rest of his coffee untouched, Jarrod rewrapped the bundle and grabbed his hat, quickly scrawling a note to his secretary before locking the office and climbing on Jingo after securing the evidence in his saddlebag.

The town was prospering and growing with the increase of production in the mines. Silver and gold mines in the Comstock Lode provided jobs for the ones who followed the path of a miner. The money from the workers was spent in the saloons, restaurants and other business in Carson City.

The capital of the state was bursting with activity and prosperity, hustle and bustle, growth and industry. It was near busting at the seams with people some days, mostly paydays and other times it was quiet like an early Sunday morning.

The town was not quite a city and though everyone knew that would change over time, most were content with how it was at this moment. It was big but not so large you didn’t know your neighbor.

The town was over looked by mountains, the grandeur giants dwarfed the buildings on the ground. The eastern scarp of the Sierra Nevada was rugged and near impassable in sections. In places were it was impossible for horses and wagons, the timber companies built great flumes to bring the bountiful enormous trees from Spooner Summit on the eastern slope of the Sierras down to Carson City.

The logs stripped bare of branches would rush down, riding a stream of water and if you were close enough, sometimes you could see the smoke from the burning of the friction when the log met the side of the flume on its journey.

To the west between the town and the Pine Nut Mountains was the Great Basin desert.

The sun beating down on those who dare cross her without the knowledge of waterholes to survive was unfeeling and uncaring. If you knew the offerings of the vast desert, she would only singe your hide some as you passed through. If you turned up your nose and scorned her, she leave your dried carcass stretched across your bones.

Skirting the basin desert was a lone rider leading a string of horses, enjoying the smell of sage from the vegetation as he rode through the grasslands and away from the dry desert. His clothes were dusty and his face had several days of growth on his cheeks.

He turned to the south and crossed a small stream, his string of horses following as if they were already trained. The face honed by the wind and sun looked upon the small glen and he smiled in anticipation.

Topping a small hill, he stopped and let his eyes fall on the small ranch below as he rested his forearm on the saddle horn and leaned forward, pushing his hat higher on his forehead and sighing.

He could remember the first time he’d seen the ranch from this view, the buildings looked like miniatures compared to the Pine Nut Mountains which towered in the background and it was as beautiful as the first time he’d seen it when he was first invited.

Pushing his hat back down, he nudged the weary modoc whose pace quickened in anticipation of the stall and the fine tasting oats waiting beside the trough filled with sweet mountain water.

Weaving his way down the hill, he reached bottom and cantored to the nearest corral, leading the horses through the gate held open and turning them out before leaving back through the opening with Gal.

Slowly dismounting, Heath grinned at the taller man and gestured to the horses, “Well, what do ya’ think Charlie?”

With his face turning to look at the equines nervously gathered at one end of the corral, the black eyes twinkled with amusement before he shrugged and turned around, seemingly unimpressed, “They look ready for the glue factory.”

“GLUE FACTORY!” repeated Heath, his voice loud and carrying throughout the quiet air before flashing a grin. “I swear Charlie sometimes I don’t know how you come by the name of Whitehorse.”

“PAPA” called the small boy coming out of the barn.

Spinning around, Heath chuckled at the small boy whose excitement could be felt before he rushed into his kneeling father’s arms. Crushing the boy to his chest, the blond suddenly stood and flung him in the air, the giggles making both men laugh. Holding him in his arms, Heath batted the end of his son’s nose and grinned at the hiccups shaking the small frame.

“I missed ya’ Evan!” smiled Heath planting a kiss on his son’s face. “How’s my boy?”

“No…hic…pa… hic…pa.” protested the miniature blond trying to move his face out of the path of his father’s whiskers. “hic…yas… hic…scratchy… hic”

Glancing over to Charlie who was leaning on Gal and watching the identical pair, Heath frowned, “Charlie, am I scratchy?”

“Can’t say I’ve ever called you scratchy before. Lots of other things but never that.” smirked the tall slim framed mixed blood Cherokee with a wink while untying the reins. “I’ll settle Gal in for ya’.”

“I can do it, Charlie.” said Heath with a negative shake of his head.

“Nah, I’ll see you later at supper.” stated Charlie, handing the blond the saddlebags before leading the tired horse into the barn. “Thad’s over to town for a board meeting at the bank. Missus was making apple pie today.”

“Oh, my favorite.” whispered Heath tickling his son’s ear and sending him into another laughter fit.

“’m too… hic…hic…pa… hic…pa.” offered Evan trying to hold his breath to stop the interfering sounds.

“Did you help like a big boy while I was away working?” asked Heath seriously watching the almost four year old nod just as somber.

“Sure… hic…did.” announced Evan proudly.

“What’d ya’ do?”

Putting the bags over his shoulder, Heath smiled into the sapphire eyes sparkling with excitement as he tried to talk between his hiccups. Setting Evan down on the porch, Heath took off his hat and swiped at his clothes, the dust flying up all around.

“Heath, did you have to bring half the dust from Nevada with you?” purred the female voice, a mixture of teasing and happiness.

Looking up, Heath held out his hand and smiled sheepishly into the azure colored eyes. Evangeline smiled widely and ignored the hand, throwing herself into his chest and wrapping her arms around his muscular neck.

Wrapping his strong arms around his wife’s body, Heath met her lips with his then whispered. “I missed you Ange.”

“I missed you too.” smiled the brown haired woman, holding onto his waist as they climbed the steps and entered the house.

“Papa!” screamed the blonde haired girl from the floor dropping her doll, jumping up and running over, stopping suddenly and stomping her foot. “Yas all dirty, papa! We just cleant up for the tea party!”

Kneeling down on one knee, Heath held out his arms, asking sadly, “Doesn’t papa get a welcome home hug, Matilda?”

“Papa, I’m not Matilda!” stated the petite child while her twin smiled and laughed, hunching down beside his father and copying every movement. Evangeline shook her head and sighed as she watched the father of her children, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

“You’re not!” exclaimed the blond haired man in surprise. “Esmeralda then?”

Giggling, the curly blonde head shook negatively and the sapphire eyes sparkled. “Papa, that’s not me!”

“Hmm…” said Heath raising his hand to his chin and rubbing it in great thought, “I know….you must be Georgette.”

“Nope!” stated the girl, giggling behind the small hands held over her mouth.

“Myrtle?”

“Nope!”

“Hmmm…Florence?”

“Papa, you know my name!” stated the small voice firmly.

Looking down at his son, Heath questioned, “Boy howdy, squirt do you know the name of this fine little lady having a tea party?”

Evan suggested, “Princess Peanut?”

“EVAN!” stomped the small foot angrily, her hands flying to her hips and glaring at her look alike.

Shaking his head, Heath sighed, “Too bad, I was hoping to see my bestest girl and get a hug but I reckon she just ain’t home.”

“Reckon not papa.” agreed Evan sadly with a nod. “Too bad.”

Letting out a loud sigh of frustration, the blonde head shook and she pouted, her bottom lip protruding. “I’m your bestest girl, papa.”

“If you are, then you must be Heather.” winked Heath holding out his arms.

“That’s me!” screamed the small girl forgetting about her upset over the state of his clothes and ran into his arms.

Holding his daughter with one arm, Heath fell onto his side pulling his small son with him, tickling the sides of the twins, sending them into fits of laughter. Evan squirmed away from his father’s hold and pounced on his stomach, small hands trying to return the friendly torture.

The twins collapsed into the side of their father, laughing uncontrollably and hiccupping while he held them close, placing another kiss on their blond locks. Looking across the room, Heath smiled at the sight of his wife who had turned her back to cover the bread dough placed out to rise.

“I’m gonna get mama.” whispered Heath, his children nodding and giggling as they watched him sneak across the room.

Wiping her hands on a towel, Evangeline turned and dodged her husband right before he was able to grab her, putting the table between them. His eyes sparkling when she tried to keep the furniture between them.

“HEATH MORGAN!” stated the brown haired woman trying to sound stern but unable to from the laughter in her voice. “Don’t you dare.”

“Get mama, papa!” shouted the small voices in unison, laughing at their parents, clapping and calling.

Heath laughed at the encouragement and rounded the corner of the square table, “I’m trying kids, but your mama’s awful skittish. Just like the new modoc I brought back!”

“Like a horse!” repeated Evangeline stopping and recognizing her mistake when he suddenly lunged and caught her around the waist, pulling her to his chest and smiling into the sky blue eyes.

“You got her papa!” exclaimed the twins jumping up and down. “You got mama!”

“I sure did!” said Heath with a grin when she tried to push away with both hands on his chest.

“Heath, I have to get supper started.” protested Ange. “Let me go.”

Raising an eyebrow, the handsome blond smirked, “Is that the reason or is it because we know who gave the kids their tickle spots?”

“Heath!” giggled Evangeline when his finger found her side. “Stop it. You need to clean up. Father’s bringing home Mr. Tucker for supper.”

Heath looked over at the angelic faces and sighed, “Sorry kids, grandpa’s bringin’ company for dinner. You better go see if Charlie needs any help.”

“Okay, papa!” stated the twins running to the door and heading outside.

Placing a lingering kiss on his wife’s lips, Heath smiled and rested his forehead on hers, his finger moving slowly up her side causing her to squirm and giggle.

“You’re terrible! Stop that!” protested Evangeline weakly, her legs feeling rubbery from his touch.

“Hmmm…” murmured Heath, placing a kiss on her cheek before nuzzling her ear.

“How was Stockton?” asked Evangeline as he tugged on her earlobe, feeling his back stiffen suddenly at the question. Pulling back, she stared into the sapphire eyes and frowned at the storminess she saw in their depths. “Not good?”

“I’d best go get cleaned up.” sighed Heath caressing her cheek with his thumb before taking two steps away, stopping at her hand which held onto his.

“Heath, what’s wrong?”

Turning to face his partner in life, Heath squeezed the small hand and shook his head. “I’m so angry, Ange and I haven’t felt like this in a long time. I don’t know what I was trying to prove by going there. I know what I did and I still can’t believe I did it. I had a week to think on it and I shoulda just kept him in the past where he belongs. I…I…I don’t know. I don’t wanna talk about it right now, okay?”

The confusion in the sapphire eyes told more than the words he spoke. Pulling her husband close, she wrapped her arms around him and whispered into the head which found her shoulder, “We can talk about it tomorrow, Heath. It’ll be okay, honey.”

...Continued