Neither dared break the melody of the hooves beneath them, the pounding on the soil covered with dry grasses intermittingly mixed with miniature bushes and piles of rocks. Winding their way around the obstacles created over centuries of elements, the two riders’ eyes were focused and intense.

The punishing pace on the horses, the battering on their muscles, the stiffness in their bodies went unnoticed. Their minds remained tortured by demons of despair and the unknown while they endeavored to reach their end goal.

The end goal had been in sight since the first movement of their horses’ hooves. It molested them from afar, seeming teasingly near and yet, the lofty hills appeared to be forever just beyond their fingertips.

The faint, pastel distant colors encompassing the majestic figures grew distinct and bold as the day drew longer. Faint pastel hues of blues, yellows and greens became darker over time as if a painter stroked with an oil-laden brush to bring the colors out sharper on the canvas. The brashness drawing their eyes upward, the beauty of the scenic view not impacting the harried souls riding the equines.

To the two brothers whose minds could not erase the lingering calls each had heard or the continual whispered reverberation of his voice, the hours stretched to an eternity before they’d finally reached the base of the grandiose hills whose peaks danced with the clouds in the sky.

No communication was needed to establish the order of the procession into the vastness, no words to be vocalized. It was preordained by the strength of the sensations gracing their souls across the miles of separation.

Nick moved to the trail seen as they neared and entered the mountains via the southern most section. The trail while not worn and smooth from continuous travel was a path worked into the environment from time and past wanderers.

The road he urged his mount up followed the natural contours of the land created long before his ancestors set foot in this great country. It was created long ago, perhaps by the first people who lived in the area. The first people who traveled to the mountains seeking the riches of meat, fur and the natural abundant resources. Their necessity for the riches needed to survive were responsible for the trail used for generations long after they’d rejoined with the earth.

Jarrod glanced backward over his shoulder at the storm clouds which were building in the west since they’d left Dardanelle. The pillow soft white masses in the sky were slowly replaced with large lumps of darkened gray and black. The new arrivals hanging low and menacing over the ground, moving to sweep across the area left hungering for the taste of its wetness to fight the dry spell which choked them.

A storm in the higher elevations was a ferocious sight, an experience capable of waking the dead from the fury of the thunder shaking the earth and the slashing bolts of light trying to dodge from one peak to another. Even a simple cloudburst or a small shower in the higher elevations could cause death to any living thing in its path while it careened down the gullies and ravines, making its way downhill in its natural cycle.

The first spatters of small drops hit the ground, splashing and becoming disseminated with the contact on the hard surface. The oblique shape of the drops shattered into a multitude of tinier drops before the thirsty ground greedily inhaled the wetness.

At the first drops, the brothers stopped and put on their rain gear, the black slickers designed to keep their garments dry, thus preventing their body heat from escaping under a deluge. Looking upward and estimating they were halfway between the bottom and the ridge, Nick took a deep breath and glanced backward to his older brother, his unspoken question receiving an affirmative nod. Nudging Coco with his heels, the hazel eyes scanned the area before them as they continued climbing to the higher elevation.

The afternoon was still upon them but the darkness of the sky, the closing off of the sun and the increase of rain mixed with wind were the signs Mother Nature sent down. She’d been dogging their heels all day with her contribution to destiny’s game and she let loose with a vengeance, the howling wind and her laughter of delight at the chaos she created.

The hairs on the backs of their necks stood up with the first crack of thunder, the first flash of the electric energy against the dark backdrop. Both riders were on their feet, struggling to pull their mounts up the trail which seemed to lose all solid consistency in a matter of minutes. Their boots and the horses hooves slipping on the slick surface but they continued upward to the ridge, knowing to stop would mean they’d have to turn around and go backward.

Going backwards was not an option either could fathom. Only going forwards would they find the brother they’d lost, only forward and with each step taking them closer to the top of the ridge, the bodies of men and beasts were tense, waiting for a flash of light to strike.

He felt the change in the environment, subconsciously knowing what was coming even in his feverish state. His time spent in Mother Nature’s company, working under her vast skies, sleeping under her blanket of stars, sitting below her comforting moonlight beams reached through the fog of pain and peeked his senses. He knew from the charge in the air, the sudden quieting of the forest animals she was sending her fury his way.

He struggled from where he’d lain on the ground, his body steadily declining in strength and the pain became like a welcomed friend. For if he felt the pain, he was still fighting, still struggling to make his way across the expanse. For he knew, it was when he felt the pain no longer, that would be the moment all would be lost and gone forever.

Leaning against the tree, he stared at the ridge, his glazed eyes wavering the horizon and he gulped air into his burning lungs. Somehow, he knew if he made it over this ridge, he was sure there were no more mountains to crawl up, no more hills to ascend. Tilting his head upward, he opened his mouth and took in the clean moisture falling from the sky, the few drops not driven away by the wind were quickly cycled by the tissues in his parched body.

He didn’t know how long the sound had been in the background before he recognized it over the wind, the sound chilled his fevered body, taking away the burning inside replacing it with the icy hand of dread.

Turning with difficulty on the rain slick slope, glazed eyes were wiped free of fever as he was propelled backwards by the screaming banshee lunging into his body.

Struggling over the rise, Jarrod and Jingo moved to the side of Coco and Nick, both men descending as one, leading their mounts and seeking a haven from the elements at a lower elevation. The rain and darkening skies hindering their ability to see was suddenly filled with brightness from the burst provided by Mother Nature.

The burst of lightning was almost blinding if you looked at it directly, however, the two pairs of eyes were drawn by movement below their position and both men screamed, the wind drowning out their cries at the hand which plunged downward.

The spine shriveling shrieks hidden under the sounds of the pitching winds and thundering cracks filling the mountainous valley rang in his ears. Propelled backwards from the head on rush, Heath’s breath left his lungs when he impacted viciously with the water drenched muddy ground.

His weakened body lay pinned by the weight upon him and he desperately moved his hands trying to stop the assault of the deranged woman who had the momentum of madness and revenge driving her.

A flash revealed the dirt streaked face with untamed and mangled hair standing out from her head, the charge in the air straightening the strands. The hollowness of her features, gaunt and enflamed with fury were heightened by the insanity in her dark eyes.

The lighting flash changed the color in her eyes from dark to red, the demon living deep inside her soul escaping and reeking its vengeance on the man struggling beneath her.

Catching her shoulder with his right fist, he propelled his aunt off his abdomen and chest, his face, neck and shoulders suffered the majority of the attack. Her foot hit the bullet wound in his thigh, the tenderized area of flesh sending a shockwave of pain through his leg, his hands reached down to clamp on the injured area as he rolled onto his side.

Martha rolled four feet on the side of the mountain before coming to a stop on her stomach, her screaming of rage proceeding her scramble up the slope. Her hand closed on a branch and with one fluid movement, she wrapped her fingers around the solid wooden club provided by nature.

Reaching under his vest, he grabbed the handle of his knife bringing it out from its sheath. The lightning flashed, the blade glittering as it came around his body and her arms swung, hitting his wrist.

Crying out from the impact of wood against flesh, his weapon was cast from his grip and he instinctively gripped on the injured section of his wrist, the hand going numb from the contact. Kicking out with his left leg, he caught her knee, sending her down to the ground and her unholy howl of pain sent another surge of adrenaline through her.

No longer was there any evidence of sanity, the cloudiness in her mind was gone, leaving behind only a dark place filled with voices and thoughts of cruelty. She was unstoppable, her body not registering the effects of the pain it was experiencing. All she knew was the voices urged her on and she threw the club from her fallen position.

Pushing himself to his left knee and trying to get up onto his injured leg, Heath collapsed in pain from the explosion in his right leg, falling forward and sliding forward on his stomach, the slick slope moving him effortlessly five feet.

Groaning and rolling on the ground, his hands trying to stop the fire in his thigh, the skies lit up again, his hands springing upward to throw her over him. The knife glistened in her hand and left a deep cut in his chest on her way past. The rain pelting down from the dark skies unable to wash the blood away, the stain spreading across his chest. Turning, he saw his crazed relative lying stunned and slowly making her way to her feet.

Fear brought his body to his feet, he lunged and his hands barreled into her back. The movement snapping her head backwards as his weight propelled her forward, her shoulder glancing off the side of a tree on her way past.

The lunge catapulted his body to the ground, his hands breaking most of his fall. His gasps for air ripping through his lungs and the instinctive need for survival pushed him upwards, his hand holding the forest fire in his leg. Staggering and swaying, Heath moved to the area where he’d pushed his aunt.

Leaning against the tree, he couldn’t see the light colored dress and he moved forward, the rain and darkened sky hindering his search. She sprang with the knife poised to slash, his hands grabbed her wrists and their footing was lost.

Falling, he held onto the woman with the strength of ten men while they rolled on the hill, the mud caking their clothes, their skin and finding its way into the wounds now flowing free with red.

Her movements quicker than his, her lunacy increased strength exceeded his fear incensed adrenaline. Rolling to a stop, she was in the position of supremacy and the lightning flashed before she slashed downward with the razor sharp blade.

Neither hearing the screaming of the two men over the booming of thunder and cracking of lightning. Neither heard anything, saw anything except the enemy they engaged in battle.

Heath felt the blade find a home the same time his fist broke the jaw in the demonic face, sending her onto the side with a scream of pure pain. Reaching up, his face turned paler as he yanked the knife out of his body.

Holding onto her face, her hand sought to hold the broken mandible in place, her eyes finding him and she jumped, her body falling onto his, the blood from her mouth dripping down as their eyes stared into each other. Pushing upward, he rolled her off to the side, the knife embedded deep into her abdomen buried to the hilt, her fingers reached out and dug into the mud slowly until their movement stilled.

Turning onto his side away from the sight, his tears of pain and relief mixed with the rain which trickled down his face. His cheek pressed into the cold mud while he reached down deep inside for one last bit of strength, moving his right arm underneath his body, he put his palm down on the ground and pushed, falling back onto the ground and lying with eyes closed, exhausted and beaten.

Pulling the horses down to a tree and tying their reins securely, Nick and Jarrod scrambled over the slippery slope, holding onto the muddy bank and forcing their way to their fallen brother.

Large hands gently turned the smaller man whose eyes suddenly flew open and his arms flailed outward, his left side exploding in pain from the wound in his chest when his hand connected with a solid body.

“HEATH!” screamed Nick and Jarrod, their loud voices halting the frightened man’s movements. “IT’S US! IT’S YOUR BROTHERS!”

Blue eyes blinked at the faces looming over him blocking the rain drops. The older men watched the lids on the eyes close and reopen, the incredulous look overcoming the pain in their depths before the ghost of a smile upturned one corner of his mouth and his brutalized body went limp in their hands.

Through a flash of light, Jarrod saw the tender smile on Nick’s face and the hazel eyes filled with moisture while his hand stroked the pale face reassuring himself his little brother was real and not a figment of a cruel imagination.

Jarrod let out a shaky breath, his own throat choked with emotions. The terror at seeing the knife wielding hand being brought down towards Heath, the fear of being too late to save him when they’d finally found the missing piece of their family and the elation at seeing the blue in his eyes ravaged the prominent attorney as much as the storm was the mountains.

“There’s so much mud and blood I can’t tell if he’s only got a knife wound or more injuries.” scowled Nick, having opened the filthy shirt to examine the blond’s chest, shoving his black handkerchief into the gash below his collarbone and pressing on the wound.

A low moan and turning of the blond head at the pressure being applied to stem the flow of blood was the only sound from the pale younger man, the moan barely heard over the howling wind.

“We need to get him out of the rain and get these wet clothes off.” stated Jarrod looking around at the mountain side. “If we move further down maybe there’s some shelter in a grove of trees. Anything’ll do.”

Nodding, Nick lifted the cloth and lowered it, his hand pressing down firmly. Gesturing over to the other body as Nick looked past his older brother, he frowned, “ Jarrod, is that a woman?”

A surprised look filled the blue eyes and Jarrod turned around on his haunches and bent over, his fingers feeling for a pulse. Staring at the face for several minutes, his head snapped up and cursed.

“What’s the matter? Jarrod!” bellowed Nick, unable to move or the pressure on the wound would be released and more blood would escape.

Turning to his younger brother, Jarrod swallowed the bile in his throat and choked out, “It’s Heath’s aunt, Martha Simmons.”

“SHE’S SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD!” shouted Nick in disbelief. “SHE IS DEAD NOW, RIGHT?”

Shaking his head, Jarrod felt his stomach turn with sickness, “Nick, she’s still alive but barely. Her pulse is very weak.”

Staring into his older brother’s blue eyes, Nick shook his head in denial and stammered, “Leave her. Let the animals take care of it.”

“Nick!” gasped Jarrod.

“Dammit, who’s more important here? Heath or…or..or…that…that” growled Nick furiously, gesturing with the hand not holding the bandage in place. “Christ, I’m not putting another person before him! I’M NOT!”

Wiping a hand over his face, Jarrod took in a lungful of air, “Nick, no matter what we think, I can’t do it. I can’t not try to help her. We’re obligated to try to save her. NO matter who she is!”

“We are not obligated to that bitch! We’re obligated to our little brother not some crazy!” snarled Nick, turning his eyes downward to the injured man lying by his knees. “And I’m not helping HER!”

“I don’t like it either, Nick but to just let her die would be like murder.” stated Jarrod. “I know you don’t condone murder.”

Angrily moving, Nick brushed against Heath’s right leg and the blond suddenly cried out in pain, his hands reaching for the leg bursting with fire and rolling onto his side, his head thrashing about.

“HEATH!” called Nick, his eyes frantically searching the closed eyes scrunched in pain, his hands clamped onto his thigh, his breaths hissing between his clenched jaws. Taking hold of the wrists, Nick pried the hands away from the pant leg thick with mud. Jarrod held onto Heath’s face with both hands, talking to his little brother, his voice slowly calming the thrashing blond.

“That’s it, Heath. Let Nick look at your leg. It’ll be okay, little brother.” soothed Jarrod, his voice and the fingers stroking the crusted hair and face reaching through the curtain of pain.

Shaking uncontrollably, Heath lay with eyes closed and bit back a groan of pain when the material of his pants rubbed against the angry wound from the sharp knife cutting through the cloth. Reaching towards the pain, his hand was caught and held by a larger hand.

“Don’t Heath. I know it’s hurting but we need to get it done.” said Jarrod, gripping his little brother’s hand, grimacing slightly when the younger man’s grip tightened when he felt gentle fingers probing the inflamed area.

Even if he wanted to escape the sharp daggers in his leg, Heath knew the hand holding onto his chest to stop the bleeding from the knife wound held more power than his whole body.

Turning his head, Heath pushed his forehead into the bent knee by his head, his breaths ragged and fast. Jarrod looked up, realizing the rain had stopped and a glance at the horizon revealed the storm’s edge was above their position.

Jarrod looked down in surprise when the hand gripping his, loosened its hold and he glanced at Nick who was shaking his head and growling from deep within his body.

“Bullet went clean through but it’s infected. Looks like Heath cleaned it as well as he could.” informed Nick before looking up. “No blood poisoning this time.”

“Thank goodness.” sighed Jarrod, lowering his unconscious little brother’s hand and stroking the cheek not pressed to the ground.

“I’m not a murderer.” stated Nick firmly, feeling the blue eyes of his big brother on his head as he worked on the bullet wound. “Do what you think you have to, but I’m not helping you. I’m taking care of Heath and not lifting one finger to help her. Not one!”

More than once Jarrod wished he hadn’t checked the pulse of Martha Simmons, wished he hadn’t felt the weak throbbing in her neck beneath his fingers. The first born warred internally with himself and silently fought to save the life of the woman.

While he knew morally trying to save her was the right action to take, he would have liked nothing more than to be able to act without his conscience whispering to him. How he would have liked to just step away and let her destiny be determined without his help, his assistance.

But he couldn’t and he wouldn’t. For it went against all he stood for, all he was raised to be and how to act. Working to stop the flow of blood from the knife in the woman’s abdomen, he couldn’t stop the questions in his mind. How was it she came to be on the mountain with their brother? Whose charred remains had Sheriff Tucker found in the hotel in Strawberry?

Would Heath understand his older brother’s reasoning, the moral dilemma his older brother found him in? What would the youngest say when he found out Jarrod was trying to save his aunt, the woman responsible for a past life of misery for the youngest son? Would he understand when he was aware enough? Would Heath see his actions as his oldest brother putting another source of his nightmares before him?

Just the mere thought of again seeing disappointment and betrayal in the light blue eyes stopped his hands for a moment. Would Heath use it as a reason to leave them again?

Leave them again?

Jarrod repeated the question in his mind and shook his head. Heath hadn’t returned yet so how could he leave again. They found him and Nick was taking care of him but it was still a long ways to Stockton.

Tying the bandage in place, Jarrod sighed and turned to watch his dark haired brother’s tender, gentle movements. Heath’s eyes were closed and his face pale and sweating, his head moving only slightly on the ground sheet under his body.

His blond brother mumbled while Nick’s voice soft as a gentle breeze spoke to Heath, the rancher’s hands moving, cleaning and bandaging. Jarrod tried to catch the words mumbled by Heath but was unable to. Was he still fighting his aunt? Were his thoughts in his fevered mind of the last time he’d seen his family and the step they’d forced him to take? Was he back in the war fighting as a child yet with the deadly skill of a sniper?

Where was Heath in his mind? Were they in his heart as he was in theirs? Was this the beginning of a new start or the beginning of the end for the family structure they desperately wanted and needed?

Here was their missing brother, finally they’d found him. Jarrod knew he should be overjoyed, elated, ecstatic but found he was afraid to feel those powerful emotions. The first born was afraid to lose his youngest brother again and for the life of him, the man who graduated top of his class didn’t know how to make Heath stay and take his place with them.

Letting out a shaky breath, Nick caressed the pale cheek before glancing up to check the progress of Jarrod. For several minutes, he studied his big brother, the man obviously in deep thought from the blue eyes staring out into a vast world in his mind. Hazel eyes watched the man who’d always seemed to be in control of his thoughts, his actions, his emotions…until now.

Nick felt a pang of guilt at the conflict waging in his brother’s eyes, the desire to proceed down the path of right was deeply engrained in all his family. His own lack of compassion for the injured woman was an automatic response born of protectiveness for the younger man lying on the ground beside him. Nick knew consciously he, like Jarrod, could not have simply let Martha Simmons die. No matter how vile she was, he couldn’t have done it either.

“Jarrod. JARROD?” called Nick, pulling his brother out of his reverie.

“Yes, Nick?” asked the older man moving over to his brothers and nodding in satisfaction at the first aid capabilities given to the injured blond.

“It’s gonna be dark soon and I think we should get them on the horses. We can make it over the ridge and partway down before finding a spot to camp.” suggested Nick.

“Alright.” agreed Jarrod, lowering his hand to the ground to push himself upwards. Stopping when Nick reached across and grabbed onto his arm.

“Jarrod, you okay?” questioned Nick watching the blue eyes fall to their injured brother and a shaky breath was released.

“I’m scared, Nick.” whispered Jarrod, closing his eyes and wiping a hand across his face.

“Heath’s strong, Jarrod. He’s been through a lot worse and made it.” offered Nick with a smile. “You’ll see.”

Shaking his head, Jarrod reached down and caressed the blond hair before looking into the hazel eyes. “He’s here with us and it scares me to think what’s gonna happen when he’s back on his feet. Does he want us for his family? Did he think of us when he was gone? Will he stay or leave? Nick, this past year has been hell for us. Not knowing where Heath was, if he was okay. Was he alive? Dead? Not knowing took our lives from us and if he decides he want to leave….I don’t know if any of us are strong enough to handle that again. It frightens the hell outta me.”

“Pappy, its frightening cause we love him so damn much.” choked Nick, his voice quivering before he took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Damn boy sure weaseled his way deep inside our hearts, didn’t he?”

“Nick…”

“Jarrod, I ain’t got no answers. Nobody knows what’s gonna happen in the future. But I’ll tell you one thing…I sure as hell am gonna do some groveling to keep him at the ranch, you can bet your boots on that!” stated Nick firmly. “This boy’s part of me, part of all of us and without him…well…I’m not even thinking about it. It’d be like tempting destiny and I’m not doing it!”

Squeezing the shoulder of his older brother, Nick smiled, offering a semblance of strength against the darkness of the upcoming unknowns. Jarrod patted the large hand on his and nodded.

“I’ll bring the horses closer.”

Watching the older man make his way carefully up the wet bank, Nick knelt beside his shivering brother, checking his bandages and growling softly as he tucked the blanket around the feverish younger man. “Boy, if I gotta hogtie you to the bed when we get home we’re gonna jaw a lot and then you sure as hell ain’t going anywhere without me ever again.”

Glancing across his injured brother to the woman who lay still, the dark head shook and he let out a shaky breath. His mind assaulted with the image of the knife plunging down under the flash of lightning, the burst of nature’s light glistening briefly on the shiny blade.

He knew from the handle it was Heath’s own knife and shivered when he realized how close his brother’s psychotic relative had come to ending their refound brotherhood before they were able to even give it a go. Just a whisper of what could have been if Heath hadn’t somehow turned the tide back against her was enough to turn his inner being to ice.

Taking a deep breath, Nick looked upward to watch Jarrod leading the mounts down the trail and he suddenly realized his big brother may be right. They as a family may not be strong enough to survive if Heath didn’t stay. The pain when Heath left before was almost unbearable. Time hadn’t lessened it and hadn’t faded it.

When they lost him the first time, it was because of their own actions. They’d forced him into a position which he couldn’t see a way out. Now they were given a second chance, another chance to bring him into their family fold. How many can honestly say they’d been given a second chance to change their own destiny?

If they didn’t learn from their past mistakes and lost him this time, they didn’t deserve to have him in their lives. For not to learn from the past would mean they were too selfish or too self-important and didn’t deserve to have the blond youngster in their lives.

“Ready, Nick?” asked Jarrod after tying the horses to a low lying bush. “I wish we had time to make a travois. It’d make it a lot easier on both of them.”

“I know but we’re only going a little ways.” agreed Nick quietly, barely keeping the disdain out of his voice. “Do you need help with..her?”

Shaking his head, Jarrod frowned, “No, she’s not that heavy. I can manage.”

“Let’s get going then.” commanded Nick, grateful he didn’t have to put his hands on the foul female. Kneeling beside Heath, he smiled at the slits of blue appearing in the pale face.

“Hey, little brother.” greeted Nick warmly, holding his palm against the warm cheek.

Confusion mixed with pain could be seen in the light blue eyes as they moved around as if looking for a thought of reckoning, a dawning of what transpired. Coughing harshly, the pain in his chest exploded further and Heath felt a large hand lifting his upper body, the cool metal rip of a canteen was held to his lips.

Parched like the ground in the desert, the blond’s body wanted to drink every bit of moisture but was only able to take a couple small sips of the water. Luke warm in the canteen it may have been but to the man who was sweating a river it felt as cool as the water at the beginning of a mountain stream.

“Heath, we’re gonna be taking a short ride.” informed Nick, keeping himself in view of the blue orbs. “Over the ridge and down a ways before dark.”

It took several tries before a sound came out of the lips which opened, the word weak and puzzled, “Nniicc?”

“That’s right, Heath. Jarrod’s here too.” grinned Nick, the smile not able to erase the worry in his hazel eyes. “No more talking for now. We got lots of time for that later.”

“No…”

A flash of pain closed the blue eyes for a moment and Nick held his breath, the trembling of the smaller man clear by the movement of the blanket. Holding onto his undamaged shoulder, Nick swallowed the lump in his throat, his eyes filled with uncertainty at the single forced out word before his little brother’s blue eyes closed.

“Heath?” queried Nick tentatively, watching as the eyes re-opened and slowly found his.

“No…horse.” whispered Heath, seemingly the weakness of his body transferred to his voice. “See…Gal?”

“She’s not here, Heath.” apologized Nick softly. “We’ll have to see if we can find Gal later, okay?”

Clenching his jaw, Heath nodded slightly and turned his head slowly, still unsure of how he came to be on a mountain side with his brothers, the men he hadn’t seen since that night. The men who’d been in his fevered thoughts, his tortured dreams. He moved his head and caught the view of his oldest brother’s back, kneeling in the mud.

“Heath, I’m gonna pick you up now. It’s gonna hurt like the devil.” sighed Nick, receiving only a nod for an answer.

Gently raising Heath up to a sitting position, Nick heard the sharp intake of breath and swore the beads of sweat increased on his little brother’s forehead with the movement. Apologizing, Nick felt Heath’s right hand grab his vest entwining the material in his fist, his breaths shuddering in his chest.

“Wait…sec.” groaned Heath, using the clenching of his fist in the black vest as a means to steady himself against the pain.

“Heath, I gotta check the bandage on your shoulder. You’re gonna have to let go for a minute. Only a minute, little brother.” stated Nick softly putting a hand over the clenched fist and moving it away, the hand finding the blanket and gripping it fiercely.

Supporting Heath with a hand on his back, Nick shifted behind his little brother and peered under the bandage, cursing when he saw the slight flow of blood, reaching across and grabbing another white bandage. Holding the new bandage over the wound, Nick pressed it against the gash, the hissing of breath leaving his brother’s pale form brought tears to the large rancher’s eyes.

“I know.” whispered Nick, holding his cheek against the top of the blond head. “I’m sorry. It’ll be over soon.”

Mired in a world of pain and fogginess, Heath somehow knew deep inside his big brother was telling him the truth. All those months of separation seemed to dissipate with the sight of the hazel eyes above his face. The fevered callings for the ones he left behind, the ones he longed to see had been answered.

“Good, it’s stopped again.” stated Nick with a huge sigh of relief.

A scream of pain startled both men and Nick kept his right hand entwined in Heath’s shirt, holding him up with the strength in his arm as he shifted to look over to the left.

“Jarrod!” called Nick as the screams continued. “What’s going on?”

“I’m just trying to pick her up, Nick!” yelled Jarrod trying to stop the woman’s cries.

The painful wail shook Heath to his core and he trembled with fear. His mind shifted back over the months, back to a man his family put before him. Back to the time when they held one of his worst nightmares over him.

The screams ceased as quickly as they started but not before they hid the whisper of noise from Nick’s keen hearing. The distinct sound of a hammer being pulled back stilled his every movement and hitched his breath in his chest.

Turning slowly on his haunches, his eyes widened at the barrel of his own pistol pointed at him and he smiled nervously, his loud words turning Jarrod around.

“Heath, you wanna point that somewhere else. Somebody could get hurt.”

The late afternoon noises of mother nature’s environment lowered to a dull roar, the sounds of the mountain stilled under the heightened tension on the slick slope. Jarrod knelt on one knee, his hand pressed onto the muddy ground afraid to move, unsure of where the trembling blond was. Unsure if he saw his brothers or a ghostly haunting from his past torments.

Nick couldn’t remove his eyes from the black gaping tunnel pointed at him, the entrance wavering in the shaky hand which gripped its handle. The large man still held tightly onto the tan shirt, his muscles tensed from the cylinder capable of striking out with a small projectile of metal. The projectile if unleashed at this close range would leave a hole big enough in his body for a clenched fist to enter.

“Heath.” stated Nick calmly, his voice soothing and quiet as he held out his left hand. “It’s Nick. Give me my gun, little brother.”

Blue eyes moved between the two men and his denial came in the form of a slight shaking of the sweat drenched hair. The pools of blue confused and yet, no longer reflected pain.

“No.” was the weak hiss, the voice delivering the message lacking power to shout the word of negativity.

“Please, Heath.” stated Jarrod. “We’re here to help you. Give Nick the gun.”

Nick clenched his jaw, hazel eyes seeing the anger spring into the pools of ocean water. He thought of making a grab for the gun and pushing it away but the idea was cast aside. He could let loose his hold on the weaker man to let him fall over to the side but he couldn’t guarantee the pistol which was pointed at him would lose it’s target or the gun wouldn’t accidentally be discharged. If he let go, it could possibly injure Heath further or cause more pain. Nick knew he couldn’t let that happen and he couldn’t move faster than a bullet if his little brother pulled the trigger. Instantly their lives could forever be changed if he made the wrong choice, if he played the wrong card.

Taking a shaky breath, Nick felt the dryness in his mouth and swallowed against the constriction of fear in his throat. He wondered how long his injured sibling could hold onto the gun. Minutes? Half hour? Hour? Would the blond truly pull on the small piece of metal and harm him? Would he willingly shot him, his own brother?

Hazel eyes sparking with anger was unseen but Jarrod could sense the surge of temper rising up and if Nick were a wolf, the hackles on his neck would have stood on end with the powerful emotion speeding through his body.

“What the hell are you doing, Heath?” hissed Nick. “We’re trying to help you! Now, give me the damn gun!”

The fury in the words didn’t skirt around the fog in his head or the pictures his mind flashed. Blue eyes glistening with anger turned swiftly to betrayal.

“Like…Bentell.”

“Bentell? Heath, this is not the time to talk about that. We gotta get you to a doctor!” gruffed Nick.

For the blond, it were as if the months of agony rose up from where he’d shoved it down, his body shook from more than just fever and weakness. He could feel the stark pain over again, the pain freed from deep within and he couldn’t stop it from exploding.

“He’s…” stammered Heath, gesturing with the heavy weapon in his hand slightly. “Aunt…him...both...evil.”

Trying to comprehend what the stammered words meant, Nick frowned and agreed, “Yes, they’re bad people, Heath. We know. Now, give me the gun.”

The hand tightened on the grip and Nick watched the younger man’s eyes fill with tears, the pistol shaking more as he lost the control he worked for over the past hurt. Heath longed to feel the trust again, he wanted to scream how deep they’d cut into his heart and shattered him inside where no eyes could see.

He wanted to exercise the bitterness within him for good, make them understand what their demand cost him. He wanted to, he needed to but he couldn’t force the words out. He couldn’t muster the required energy to unleash the words waiting to stampede through his lips. He wanted to scream and ask why they were helping her, the woman who tried to kill him, the woman who’d tormented a small boy.

Nick watched and felt his stomach impact with the blow dealt by the mirrors in his younger brother’s face. He could see the workings of the youngster’s mind in the glimmering pools.

“We had to try to help her. Just like if it were a stranger we found laying on the side of the road. It’s not the same as Bentell, Heath. It’s not. You’re the same as us, you’d have done the same if you were in our boots. We didn’t want to but we had to. I wish she was dead but she wasn’t.” explained Nick, his voice pleading for the younger man to understand.

The realistic observation took the wind from his sails with the truth reaching through his anger and betrayal. His arm and body lacked the strength to hold the cannon any more. Lowering the weapon, he turned his head away. Jarrod let out a sigh of relief and watched Nick take the gun out of the opened hand as he made his way to his brothers’ sides.

Reaching over, Nick pulled the face of the blond back towards him, his hazel eyes needing to see the blue ones but not finding comfort in the closed lids.

“Heath, look at me.” ordered Nick, raising his voice each time he had to repeat the command until slowly the eyelids opened and the lost orbs glanced to the older man.

“Everything’s confusing now, Heath. When we get home, we’ll straighten everything out, okay?” suggested Nick.

“Not...goin’….home.” stated the blond, his voice emotionless, closing his eyes to shut out the wounded looks in the faces of his brothers.

...Continued