Two days later, at the Whitfield farm, Georgia assisted Heath out of bed and into the kitchen where she helped him sit at the table.

“You want some juice before we start your reading lesson?” she asked with a hand brushing his cheek.

He stared at her with expressive eyes. “Oooooorangggggggge,” he slurred.

“Orange juice it is,” she smiled at his request, giving him a kiss on the forehead before walking over to the icebox to pour him a glass.

She returned with the half-filled glass that she placed in front of him on the table. “Try it, David,” she egged on with a gentle tap on his hand.

He looked sheepishly at her, as if to beg not to chastise him in the event of an accident.

“Go ahead, son. You can do it.”

She took his right hand and placed it on the glass, folding his fingers delicately around its form. “Hold it tight.” She released her hand around Heath’s and, with eager anticipation and a tinge of apprehension that she tried to conceal in front of her son, she watched him slowly raise the glass to his mouth.

As the rim touched his lips, his arm started to tremble, cueing her to hold his hand steady and assist him the rest of the way.

“You did fine, David,” she beamed, causing Heath to lower his eyes and smile shyly.

“Okay, let’s see where we were last time.” She thumbed through the pages of the first-grade reader and flattened the book on the page featuring boldface words and pictures of farm animals.

Heath tilted his head with a quizzical look on his face, frowning at the pictures. “Ick!” he said, poking his finger at the picture of a horse.

“No, sweetheart. That’s a horse.”

“Ick!” Heath fumed, angrily raking his finger against the picture.

Georgia grabbed his finger and folded his hand in hers. “David, listen to me. That’s a horse. Can you say: H.O.R.S.E.?”

Heath mimicked her lips movements. “Hoooooorsssss.”

“That’s right. Let’s try again. H.O.R.SE.”

“Hoooooorsssss, Ick.”

At that aggravating moment, Jim entered through the back door. “Hey! How’s he doing?” He removed his hat and hung it on the rack.

“We just started it. I showed him a picture of a horse and he kept calling it ‘Ick’.”

“That ‘Ick’ again,” he snorted as he walked over to the sink to wash his hands.

“It’s really upsetting him.”

“That ‘Ick’ is obviously associated with a horse.” He dried his hands on the towel and took a seat at the table across from Heath. “David, look at me.” Jim flicked his fingers to will Heath’s eyes to meet his. “What is ‘Ick’?”

“Jim, no! You heard what Dr. Verner said?”

“I know what he said. I’m sorry, Georgia, this boy’s in pain every time he speaks of this ‘Ick’. If we can find out what it is once and for all, maybe we can help alleviate some of his torment.” He brought Heath’s attention back to him. “David, what is ‘Ick?”

Heath stared down at the book and jabbed his finger at the horse. “Ick!”

Nick rode in the barnyard, jumped down his horse and dashed inside the stables to pick up a shovel.

“Hey Nick! How was your trip? Found anything?” Duke asked casually.

“Not now, Duke. Got me an urgent job to do.” Nick replied curtly, rushing back out. He swing on Coco’s back and spurred him at a full tilt.

Troubled by Nick’s aggressive behavior, Duke decided to follow his trail, which, surprisingly, led him to Heath’s grave.

Nick slid off his saddle and grabbed the shovel firmly with both hands. He wrung them around the handle as he marched toward the tombstone with smoldering eyes. He drove the shovel into the earth and started digging as Duke galloped onto the scene.

“Nick!” Duke shouted, leaping down his horse and dashing over to Nick. “Nick, stop it!” He wrested the shovel out of his grasp. “What in the devil’s name are you doing?” he scolded.

“Give me the shovel!”

“No! Not before you explain what’s possessing you to dig up Heath’s grave.”

“That’s not Heath down there,” Nick gnarled with a predatory expression crossing his face.

“What?”

“That’s Pratt stinking remains and I aim to dig them out of Barkley land.” Nick twitched the shovel right out of a stunned Duke’s hands and continued tearing up the earth.

During the following weeks, Nick organized innumerable search parties, alternating with his ranch hands, neighbors and town citizens willing to spare their time combing every inch of a thirty-mile radius between the roadhouse and Morganville.

As weeks wore on, the hope of finding Heath faded, but Nick was unwavering in his belief that his missing brother or his corpse would eventually turn up.

His mood would veer between vesuvian anger to black despair when noticing the number of obliging Samaritans declining with each unproductive day. Some long-time friends were willing to humor the opinionated man until he would resign himself to the obvious, but Nick’s drive was unflagging. No level of persuasion could sway him from his goal to find his brother, dead or alive.

When the men began shying away from him, refusing to continue the search, Nick decided to go at it alone. Victoria stood in dread at the thought of her irrational son riding by his lonesome with a heavy heart. She therefore rode to the Wheeler ranch to beg Nick’s childhood friend Carl Wheeler to accompany her dark-haired mule on what she believed would be his last stubborn streak. She nourished the hope that Nick would finally let Heath rest in peace and move on with his life.

While Nick and Carl embarked on their journey, Heath was in his bedroom, buttoning up his shirt in front of a large mirror. His stare lingered on the man, now sporting a small mustache, looking back at him. He moved closer to the mirror to press his hand against the glass, as if hoping to draw the missing years of his life back into his memory. ‘Who was he?’ his confused mind wondered. ‘Where did he come from? What were his hopes and dreams?’ He only knew of the ones his parents had told him, but were they truly his own?

He was jarred out of his deep thoughts by Georgia entering the room. “Hi David! My! Don’t you look nice?”

“Mom! Those are regular working clothes,” Heath said, rolling his eyes and shaking his head in disbelief.

She edged up to him and placing her hands on his shoulders, she smiled at their reflection in the mirror. “What is nice is that you dressed by yourself, without any help from me.”

She leaned her cheek against Heath’s. “I like that mustache.”

“Do you really?” Heath asked unsure.

“Don’t you?”

“I guess,” Heath’s answered with a touch of skepticism.

She brushed back a lock of hair from his brow and frowned at Heath’s troubled expression. “David, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing and…everything,” he sighed heavily. “I look at myself and I don’t recognize the man who stares back. All of the family pictures, the ranch, this house, you, dad….” He shook his head despondently at his failure to remember. “Where have I been the last three years? Why can’t I figure out what that ‘Ick’ means?”

“Don’t try so hard, David,” she soothed with a gentle stroke of her hand against his cheek. “Dr. Verner said it could take some time for your memory to return.”

“Mom, it’s been nearly five months! I feel like a stranger in my own home. I want to love you and dad, but I….” His emotion-filled voice broke as the words caught in his throat.

The slamming of the front door prompted them both to sniff back their tears.

“Where is everybody?” Jim shouted from the living room as he made his way towards the bedroom. “There you are?” He knitted his eyebrows with concern at the two red-rimmed pairs of eyes. “Everything all right in here?”

“Yes Jim, we’re fine.”

“David, you ready to go on your first day at work?”

Heath drew in a long cleansing breath. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

“Got something to show you.”

“Oh?”

“Come with me.”

Heath flashed a quizzical look at Georgia who simply shrugged. “Don’t ask me.”

“Dad, what is it?”

“You’ll see. Follow me.”

Georgia stood in the doorway, a knowing smile crossing her face as she watched father and son march toward the stables.

“Seeing how this is your very first day riding fence lines with me, I thought this be a good time for you two to get reacquainted,” Jim said, motioning to the black and white Pinto in the stall across from them. “Meet your horse, Jumper.”

Heath’s jaw dropped in awe before this magnificent robust purebred.

“He’s a beauty, dad.” Heath edged up to the horse to pat him.

“My foreman took real good care of him while you were away. Look how shiny is coat is.”

Heath marveled at the animal as he raked his fingers through the windblown black mane. Jumper responded to Heath’s gentle touch with an affectionate nudge.

“He’s missed you.”

Heath’s eyes welled up with tears after failing to retrieve the slightest bit of memory of his cherished horse. “I don’t remember him, “ he sobbed angrily.

Jim walked over to him and placed a consoling hand on his heaving shoulder. “You will, son. You will,” Jim said with a voice exuding confidence. “Come on,” he tapped him on the back, “let’s all go to work!”

Victoria praised the heavens above when Nick finally laid Heath’s memory to rest. Although he filled up the hallow grave, his heart was still void of the sense of finality he was desperately seeking. A doubt lingered in the back of his mind that Heath was roaming the earth somewhere, but willingly shut his mind on that possibility for fear of hollowing out a deeper abyss between he and his family.

A few weeks streamed by with Nick’s fuse growing shorter by the day. His temper had become so volatile that the mere accidental drop of a bucket would send him flying into a rage.

One morning, Duke approached Jarrod before he rode into town. The harried foreman wished to address the problem with Nick before it degenerated into a blood bath.

“Jarrod, do you have a minute. I need to discuss an urgent matter. It can’t wait any longer.”

“Sure Duke. Come into the house.”

Duke and Jarrod entered through the back door and sat at the kitchen table.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Your brother Nick.”

Jarrod leaned back on his chair. “It’s worse, isn’t it?” he asked, with the answer coming in the form of a dejected expression.

“Many of our hands are threatening to walk out if we can’t get Nick to rein in his temper.” Duke leaned forward to stare Jarrod into the eyes. “They’re good men, Jarrod. We’ve invested time, patience and money into moulding them and sharpening their skills. I don’t want to lose any of them. They’re hard workers, specially that new kid, Mike, we’ve hired two months back. He’s a great wrangler, but some reason Nick keeps picking on him.”

Jarrod arched his eyebrows in incredulity. “You know why, don’t you?”

“No.”

“Mike reminds Nick of Heath.”

“What?”

“I thought it was obvious: roughly the same height and weight, color of eyes, hair; a good wrangler, gentle with horses; quiet nature, silence-speaks-louder-than- words kind of man.” Jarrod cocked his head sideways to better study Duke’s facial expression. “Doesn’t he remind you of anyone?”

Duke shook his head in disbelief. “My God Jarrod, I swear to you I hadn’t seen it.”

Jarrod smiled and patted Duke on the arm. “Assure your men that I will have a little discussion with Nick tonight. I won’t tell him you approached me with the problem in case he blows a casket and lays it out of you.”

“I can take care of myself, Jarrod. It’s the men I’m worried about.”

“Worry no more.” Jarrod stood from the table, put on his hat and grabbed his briefcase. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Thanks Jarrod.”

On his way into town, Jarrod toyed with several methods on how to approach his irascible brother without triggering a cataclysmic earthquake. He needed to wade into the troubled waters, heedful not to stir painful memories of Heath lying just beneath the surface, and risking creating a whirlpool of emotions that would swallow his brother whole.

As suspected, the ground shook and the house reverberated with Nick’s shouts but much to everyone’s stupefaction, the rabid wolf quickly retreated his fangs and acquiesced to Jarrod’s request to mend the broken vases with the ranch hands before they bad farewell.

The next morning, Nick set out to apologize to the men. His step faltered as he neared the bunkhouse. He swallowed down the throbbing heart stuck in his throat and gave himself a mental shove onward.

He rapped on the door.

“Come in!” came the muffled reply.

All eyes turned to Nick as he stepped onto the premises. “Men,” Nick gave an embarrassing nod of the head at all those icy stares. “Before you leave for work, got sumpthin’ to tell ya.” He hawked and shifted uncomfortably on one leg. “Ah, I’ll come right out and say it: I’ve been a jackass. Been dumping my grief on ya. Nuthin’ personal. It’s just that…” his voice trailed off when he choked on his emotions.

Duke walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, we know Nick,” he assured the bereaved brother with a sympathetic smile. “We all feel the same. We miss Heath’s crooked grin and encouraging slap on the back saying: “Good job, men!” which you used to do yourself.”

“It’s hard, Duke,” Nick heaved out, trying his best to refrain the gush of tears threatening.

“I know.”

“It’s here,” Nick tapped his chest with his fist, “telling me that sumpthin’ isn’t right. Can’t shake that feeling loose.”

Sensing Nick needed a few minutes alone, Duke sent the men on their way. As they walked past Nick, each tapped him on the arm and winked, assuring him that the apologies were accepted and that they greatly sympathized with his lost.

“Nick, I think you owe a big apology to Mike. You really ground the kid with your heels these past few weeks.”

“Yeah. Is he around?”

“In the stables, grooming Charger.”

“Charger,” Nick breathed out, feeling the turmoil brewing within him.

He walked down to the barn where he found young Mike currycombing Charger with a tender loving hand that was characteristic of his late brother.

“You’re doing a fine job with his coat,” Nick praised.

Mike turned to Nick. “Thank you, Mr. Barkley,” he said, bowing his head shyly as he readied himself to stomach the onslaught of harsh criticisms he knew would soon be sheeting down on him.

“It’s Nick. Call me Nick.” Nick thrust his fists on his hips and stared down at his feet. “Listen Mike, I…I wanted to apologize for my rude behavior and the way I treated ya. I guess ya know I lost my brother a while back and I…well…I’ve been taking my anger on you.”

Mike stopped grooming Charger and stared vacantly at the brush. “I lost my brother four years ago, so I know where you’re coming from. It hurts so bad you want to vent your anger on anyone or anything that moves.” He absentmindedly twirled the comb in his hands. “I just don’t know why you were always picking on me.”

Nick slowly moved over to the young desponded man. “As my brother ever so gently pointed out, I didn’t want to admit you reminded me so much of Heath.”

Mike lifted his eyes from the comb to stare into Nick’s apologetic eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“I guess I’m sorry I never met him.”

“Say, I was wondering. There’s a horse auction in Edgell next week. I’ve been told there’ll be Appaloosas up for sale. I know there’s a strong market for those fancy horses, so I thought we could try our luck at breeding some. Since you’ve got an eye for good horse flesh, I thought maybe you’d like to tag along?”

“I’d like that Mr. Barkley,” Mike answered with beaming eyes.

“It’s Nick.”

“Nick.”

Mike and Nick rode into Edgell on the morning of the auction. Both had been two days and night on the dusty, sometime scorching hot trail getting better acquainted. They sought comfort in each other as they cleansed their souls of the bereavement that they had both suffered in their respective lives.

Having traveled down that grieving path four years prior, Mike knew from first-hand experience the pain Nick was carrying. He was instrumental in helping the mournful brother unburden his guilty conscience by confessing his fear of having failed Heath. His brotherly instincts refused to give him closure as they kept screaming at him that Heath was still alive. They were driving to the brink of insanity. Where was the key that unbolted his iron box?

They both dismounted and tethered their horses to the hitching post in front of the hotel. As Mike looped the rein around the post, he caught sight of the hardware store across the street.

“Hey Nick, look! A hardware store.”

“Yeah, figure this town’s big enough for one.”

“I wonder if they have currycombs there?”

Nick shrugged. “Don’t know. Why d’ya ask?”

“Wanna to buy a new soft brush for Charger. The old one’s kinda worn out.”

“We got brushes in Stockton.”

“I know, but you don’t mind if I take a look?”

“Nah! Go right ahead. Be sure to ask for a receipt so we can pay you back.”

“No need. I’ll pay. It’s for a friend.”

Nick tapped his hat back on his head and struck a relaxed pose by shifting his weight on one leg as he admired the kid’s affection for his brother’s horse. “You love that horse, don’t ya?”

“Yeah. But I can tell he misses his master terribly. I’m just trying to be a friend.”

“You know Charger’s skittish around strangers. He doesn’t let just anyone touch him.”

“You have to know how to approach an animal. You ask his permission first.”

“You certainly got the touch.”

“Wanna come with me?”

“Nah, you go right ahead. I’ll go rent us a couple of rooms and get the horses to the livery and meet you back in the saloon. We’ll swig down a beer b’fore we check out the specimens for the auction.”

“Okay Nick.”

Before heading inside the hotel, Nick cast an affectionate glance in Mike’s direction. ‘Those damn eyes,’ Nick muttered underneath his breath. He then looked heavenwards and asked, “ Why did you send me that kid?”

Heath was hanging the new shipment of pitchforks on a hook when the jingling of the bell above the door made him turn to the new customer entering the store. He whipped out a rag from his trousers back pocket to wipe his hands clean before he walked over to Mike.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah I was wondering if ya got any currycombs and soft brushes?”

“Sure. Right over here.” Heath motioned to the right. As they both started in that direction, Jim exited the back store.

“David, I’m going to meet someone arriving by the eleven o’clock stage,” he informed while removing his apron. “Will you be okay minding the store while I’m gone? It shouldn’t take longer than ten minutes.”

“Sure dad. Who’s that person you’re meeting with?” Heath asked with a hint of curiosity.

“I’ll let you know soon enough.” Jim winked at Heath before heading out of the store.

Heath turned his attention back to his client who was already checking out the merchandise. “We have soft and hard bristles. It all depends on how your finicky four-legged friend likes his grooming.”

“Charger likes soft bristles.”

“Just like my Jumper. How long have you had him?”

“He’s not my horse. I’m sort of taking care of him.”

“Until his owner comes back?”

“Well…not exactly,” Mike answered on an embarrassing tone. “He’s dead.”

“Oh! I’m sorry,” Heath apologized. He allowed a short beat in the conversation before continuing, “I think your finicky friend needs the Whitfield Special.”

“The Whitfield Special? What’s that?”

Heath reached on the top shelf for a particular brush. “This, my friend, is the Special. My father had it custom-made for my horse a while back and ordered a couple more. It has both hard and soft bristles mixed in. It’s reserved for special customers who show a deep affection for their horses. Your Charger’s gonna love it! Trouble is, he might stomp his hoof in frustration at just one brush down a day.”

Mike broke into a laugh. “Charger deserves to be spoiled. He’s already up to two apples a day. Are they very expensive?”

“Fifty cents more than the regulars.”

“I’ll take it. Mind if I look around some more?”

“No, go right ahead. I’ve got some unpacking to do.”

Outside, the stagecoach came to a halt in front of the hotel. Jim gallantly assisted the two women passengers alight from the carriage, then grabbed the third by the waist and happily twirled her around in his arms.

“Olivia! It’s so good to see you, girl!” He delicately lowered her to the ground and planted a huge kiss on her blushing cheek. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, Mister Whitfield.”

“What’s this? It’s Mister Whitfield now?”

“I feel a bit awkward calling you Jim since David and I are no longer engaged.”

“Who says you aren’t?”

“You said he doesn’t remember anything.”

“For now. But one look at you, my dear, and I guarantee my boy will be smitten all over again.”

“I can’t wait to see him.”

“How about right now? He’s helping me mind the store this morning. It’s just a block up the street. You got any luggage?”

“Yes.” She turned to the stage driver. “Could you hand me that gray suitcase over there?”

“Yes ma’am.” The man grabbed a hold of the handle and gently handed the load down to Jim.

“Is that all?” Jim asked her.

“Yes. I always travel light.”

“Well, if there’s anything you need, you ask me or Georgia.”

“Thank you.”

“Come on, let’s go surprise David.” He took her suitcase in one hand and offered his left arm to Olivia. The blushing twenty-year-old tucked her arm into the gentleman’s, and then ambled up the street to the store.

“Thanks David. Hope to see you back soon!” Mike said as he exited the store.

“Bye Mike!”

“Ah, another happy customer?” Jim queried his son who was busy filing the bill of sale under the counter.

“Yeah. I sold him the Whitfield Special. He’s a nice guy. Loves horses.”

“I see.” With a smile, Jim turned to Olivia standing dumbstruck. “David, this is Olivia Grant.” He glanced back at Heath to gauge his reaction, which, to his dismay, remained passive.

Olivia ventured a step towards Heath to better gaze into the mirrors of his soul. “Hi David.”

Heath strained a lopsided smile and threw Jim a quizzical look over her shoulder.

“David, Olivia is your fiancée.”

“I’m sorry,” came the apologetic reply that shattered her heart. “I…I don’t remember you.”

She sighed inwardly. “That’s okay,” she said, momentarily averting her gaze from his passionless eyes. “Your father told me.” She took a lungful to recover her composure and garner the courage to stare into those deep blues that once reflected a genuine love for her. Somehow they looked different. She could perceive an empty soul beseeching her to unlock a forgotten past that would once again make him whole.

“Say David, why don’t you take Olivia over to the Cattleman’s for dinner? Ask for our table. I’m sure the two of you got lots to talk about.”

“But what about the store?”

“I can take care of it. Besides Mark’s coming in at noon. I’ll join you then.”

“Okay,” Heath said with an edge of reluctance.

“Go on!” Jim took Heath and Olivia by the elbows to nudge them toward the door. “The old man will be fine. You kids have a good dinner on me.”

Olivia saw in Heath’s contrived smile that he was ill at ease about the arrangement. “Listen, if this feels too awkward for you, we could go for a walk instead. I don’t mind.”

“It does feel a bit strange mostly because I don’t know anything about you, but I’m willing to listen to what you have to tell me. Who knows?” He shrugged “ I might recall a thing or two.” He smiled and offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

She broke into a complaisant grin and draped her arm over his.

They ambled down to the posh restaurant where he seated her at the reserved table. Over a gourmet meal, she talked reminiscently about their romance, the topic of conversation revolving mainly around their engagement.

“Every year at auction time your parents invited me to spend a few days on the ranch. Even though it was hard for me knowing you weren’t there, I never had the heart to decline their invitation. According to your father, my presence was somewhat of a comfort to your mother. She’s always treated me like a daughter even before we announced our engagement.”

“Tell me how we met?”

“You bumped into me as I was leaving the general store with arms loaded with packages. The force of the impact hurled me to the ground and broke my mother’s birthday present, a genuine hand-painted porcelain vase. It was so romantic.” she mused.

Heath choked on his wine as he burst into peals of laughter.

“Don’t laugh!” she scolded good-naturedly.

“I’m sorry,” he coughed. “It’s just the word you used to describe the bumpy encounter.”

“When you look back on it, it was romantic. It was our very first meeting and kind of our first date.”

“Oh?”

“You invited me out to dinner to mend the broken vase, so to speak. You swept me off my feet. My heart was captured and my soul surrendered. Seven months later, you got down on one knee to propose.” Her reminiscent smile slowly faded into a frown as her mind roved back to the day of his disappearance. “Ten days later, you were gone. That night, only your horse came back to the ranch.”

They both bowed their heads in restrained silence.

“You know, I have absolutely no recollection of what happened to me in the last three years. My mother says it’s probably for the best. I don’t really mind missing those three years, it’s just that I want so much to remember the rest; dad, mom, you…” he heaved a heavy-laden sigh and closed his eyes before breathing out in a whisper, “everything.”

Olivia stretched out her arm to place her hand on top of his. “I know.” She gazed tenderly into his pained dewy eyes and felt a powerful attraction. She cocked her head sideways and knitted her eyebrows. “Your eyes.”

“What about them?”

“They’re different than those I remember.”

“I’m not the same man.”

“No you’re not, in more ways than you can possibly imagine.”

...Continued