Words To Live By

A ‘What If’ for The Iron Box

by Bet

Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the TV program "Big Valley" are the creations of Four Star/Republic Pictures and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended by the author. The ideas expressed in this story are copyrighted to the author.

I’ve always been intrigued by the little notebook Heath carries in his breast pocket in many of the episodes, and found it curious that no one - to my knowledge - had used it as a plot device. We see him keeping tally, jotting notes, keeping track of the days when Nick is bitten by the wolf. That little book seems to be his constant companion. I always wanted to write a story using that notebook as part of the plot. When someone asked me to write another ending for The Iron Box, one of my favorite episodes, I declined on the grounds that there were already several fine stories written on that episode and I didn’t think I had anything new to offer. Later I got to thinking … What If …? Of course, wouldn’t you know, both Katlynn and BVLinda used Heath’s little book in their wonderful stories but by that time I was well into this one so I just decided that it must be a case of “brilliant minds…” (Ha!) and went ahead with this anyway. This seems to have turned out to be mostly a 'brother' story, but then isn’t that what we love about The Iron Box? (In this story, Gene does not exist- which I’m kinda sorry for as he seemed to be a nice kid. Too bad they sent him away to college never to return.) The opening scene is, of course, straight from the aired episode. I hope you enjoy my little epic.

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Part 1

*He didn’t think he’d ever felt such pain in his life; his leg felt like it was on fire. Not too surprising, Heath thought foggily, since his pants leg certainly had been! When Sheriff Barnes’ man had slammed that rifle butt into his side he had stumbled sideways, toppling over the downed log they’d been using to backlog their campfire. For a moment, he didn’t realize what had happened-- just that he was lying almost in the fire, and his leg was hurting something fierce. He writhed at the edge of the fire, looking down to see his pants leg flaming, and tried to keep from crying out. He’d never seen cloth flame up like that so quickly, and in that instant he realized what had happened: The frying pan! They’d just cooked bacon and the pan was still setting on a rock on the edge of the fire pit. The hot grease had splashed on his pants, fueling the flames. He gasped for breath, stifling a moan. The pain of it was almost unimaginable.

Nick leapt over the log, snatching up the blanket lying nearby, and bending over his brother began to smother the flames. The fire made by the grease-spattered cloth resisted his efforts to extinguish it, but he finally succeeded. “You all right?” He gasped out breathlessly, his face reflecting his fear.

“I think so...” Heath gritted the words, his teeth clenched tightly as he struggled to maintain control. The pain was agonizing and he felt lightheaded, but he vowed not to pass out and fought down the feeling.

“Now, before anyone really gets hurt-- let’s go!” * The sheriff gestured to his men to seize Nick and get Heath up on his feet. This they did, roughly, without any thought or concern for the pain they were inflicting.

As he was pulled violently away from Heath, Nick resisted, pleading, “His leg! His leg needs dressing!”

“There’ll be a doctor where he’s going! Now get mounted!” ** The sheriff flicked the barrel of his gun toward Nick, holding it ready as Nick, eyes never leaving his brother, reluctantly mounted Coco, then he signaled two of his men to mount up. One of them took Coco’s reins. Heath was helped to mount Charger, the men boosting him roughly into his saddle with little thought or care for his injured leg, then Charger’s reins were taken and both horses carrying the ‘thieves’ were led off through the rapidly gathering darkness.

It was all Nick could do to keep his emotions in check. He couldn’t keep his thoughts or his gaze off his younger brother. To Nick’s eyes his pain was obvious, but, being Heath, no one who did not know him well would have guessed. He sat erect in the saddle, his expression carefully blank, but the sheen of sweat on his face was a dead giveaway to his big brother, as were the shivers that wracked his body from time to time. Red-hot anger threatened to overcome Nick, but fear for his brother tempered his actions. He remained quiet and docile- something that was very hard for him to do in any case, given his volatile nature. He hoped Heath appreciated his self control.

Heath glanced over at Nick, evaluating his brother’s response to this turn of events. In spite of the excruciating pain he was in, he was more worried about Nick than himself. He knew his hot headed big brother very well. Nick was not the most diplomatic of men even under the best of circumstances. And Nick had never been in a situation like this, where he was truly helpless to do anything about it. Heath had. He felt a cold chill go down his spine as he remembered the last time- the only time- he’d been a prisoner. It was not something he cared to repeat.

As he mulled it over, he thought about what could happen next. He’d overheard one of the men say they were taking them to a work camp. Most likely the prisoners would all have to wear some kind of clothing that would mark them as such. In the near dark, he glanced surreptitiously around him. No one seemed to be paying much attention to him, surrounded as they were by the deputies. The men were all anxious to get to the camp while they still a little light to travel by, it seemed.

Cautiously he reached up to his breast pocket and slipped his small notebook out. Hiding it in his hand, he leaned down casually, appearing to be checking his injury, and slid his little book- pencil inside as he always carried it- into his right boot, a feat made easier by the burned pants leg. It fit there snugly, if painfully; it was not the first time he had carried it there over the years, and he would change it over to the other boot as soon as the opportunity arose. With any kind of luck it would be safe there; he didn’t think they would make them wear different footwear. A man never knows when he might need to make a note of something, he thought with an inner grin, and luckily he had bought a new book just for this trip- only maybe a dozen pages had been used.

After about an hour, by Heath’s reckoning, the riders reached their goal, pulling their horses to a halt after riding through the large metal gates that had been opened for them. It was now full dark, and only the dim light from scattered lanterns lit the prison yard, throwing the numerous buildings into deep shadow. Heath’s leg was now throbbing non-stop, and he was relieved to be ordered to get off his horse. Just about anything would be better than riding right now, he decided with a grimace. He dismounted painfully, his leg almost giving way beneath him, so that he stumbled a little before finding his feet.

Nick had been quiet the whole time they were riding, but it was not a peaceful silence. He had tried one time to talk to Heath, to ask how he was doing, and was harshly squelched. He kept his own counsel after that, simmering in silent rage. Just wait’ll Jarrod gets done with these sonsabitches! They’ll wish they’d never heard of the Barkleys! Nick’s teeth clenched in anger and frustration, and he, too, was glad to alight from the saddle. Once dismounted, he straightened to his full height, glaring balefully at the guards who had quickly appeared to claim the prisoners.

They were escorted at gunpoint to the Warden’s headquarters by guards carrying rifles. After a brief, heated confrontation with Captain Risley, the Commandant of the camp, in the course of which Nick was slammed in the side with the butt of a rifle- giving the brothers an inkling of what might be yet to come- they were conducted, still at gunpoint, to a small building where they were ordered to don numbered prison shirts, and their own shirts and personal possessions were confiscated.

That done, they were marched to a building that was obviously built for holding prisoners; there were bars at the windows and a heavy door. There they were shoved forcefully into a dark room and the door slammed shut and locked behind them. The brothers’ eyes met and gave each other reassurance- together the Barkley brothers can handle anything. They turned... to be greeted by the word, “Welcome!” followed by the sound of maniacal laughter.

Part 2

It had been a long, hard day in the hot sun and all the prisoners were exhausted. The heat had been fierce and, added to Heath’s developing fever, it had been almost more than he could handle. Nick had wanted to do Heath’s share of the work, too, but Billy had cautioned against that, saying that they would both be punished for it. Again Heath laid his head down on his pillow, trying to find a comfortable position, trying to forget the agony that ate at his leg. Risley had refused Nick’s plea for Heath to see the doctor this morning, saying he had asked too late- Heath would have to wait until tomorrow. He wondered what kind of shape his leg would be in by tomorrow....

It was late, and the only light was what could find it’s way through the barred windows. Nick was sleeping, snoring softly, and Heath welcomed that familiar sound, it spoke of home and comfort to him. Neither of which they had right now, he couldn’t help thinking. All the other prisoners were asleep, too, judging by the chorus around him. Heath knew he was not likely to find any sleep with his leg the way it was. He knew he was feverish, too, he recognized the symptoms. Fever had always been a problem for him. Mother had been heard to say that he was the only one she’d ever known who could run a fever from a hangnail.

Moving silently, he limped over to the barred window nearest an outside lantern and pulled his little book from his boot, his left boot now. He opened the book and tipped it until he found the best position to see to write, resting the small book on the barred window’s crossbar. The light was dim, but do-able. Taking his pencil, he paused for a moment in thought, and then began to write carefully in his small neat script.

Tuesday?

Its very late. I don’t know the time- they took our watches. Everyone is sleeping even Nick finally- I’d recognize his snore in a hurricane. He sleeps like he does everything else- no halfway measures for my big brother Nick. My big brother! I love the sound of those words. All my life I wished for a big brother, and now I got a better one than I ever dreamt of. And a great family too- Lucky me. Nick almost got in trouble standing up for me today, and I know its only a matter of time til he makes Risley mad enough to do something- I hope I can keep him calm.

Its very warm tonight here in Captain Risleys little hotel, and my leg makes it hard to sleep so I decided to jot down a few thoughts for later- when we get out of this mess. We were brought here last night by the sheriff- Sheriff Barnes- accused of stealing a bull we paid cash for. Well we found out pretty quick it was all a put up deal- the sheriff and the warden and a local rancher are behind it and some of the guards are in on it. Whenever McGowan- that’s the rancher- needs some work done he has the sheriff arrest some poor sucker and assigns him to the work camp. Free labor and if he dies too bad- they just go get another poor soul. Somebody has to stop them. My choice would be Jarrod.

I’m pretty tired now and I think I might be able to get some sleep- maybe I can. My leg hurts too much to stand up anymore anyway. Risley told Nick I could see the Doc tomorrow- maybe he’ll give me something so I can sleep after he fixes my leg.

This day sure didn’t turn out like he thought it would-- and it wasn’t over yet. The trip to the doctor had been a complete bust- worse! The doctor was dead drunk, and Risley had come in as he was trying to doctor his own leg, and Heath had had an attack of pure stupidity! Heath lifted himself painfully on his elbows, shuddering as the pain that had been lurking in the background enveloped his back. Jesus! He couldn’t stop the surprised cry that burst from his lips. He sucked in his breath, then tried again much more cautiously to raise himself.

He was lying on his belly, his back bandaged and on fire, and his leg had been rebandaged, too. He realized he must have been asleep for awhile. He laid his head back down, biting his lower lip as he chided himself for his foolishness. *Good God, Heath! Don’t you have a lick of sense? That was a pretty expensive lesson you got today-- now you’re really hurtin’, huh? Serves ya right, ya knot head! And here you were worried about keepin’ Nick out of trouble? It was not as if he didn’t know better-- Carterson had taught him better. But he just couldn’t seem to stop himself when Risley got started on his self righteous spiel. And the worst of it was if it hadn’t been for Billy and Lobo, no telling what would have happened to Nick when he saw what going on. And it would have been all his fault.

(*For more on Heath’s ‘lesson’, read ‘The Lesson’ in The Barkley Library.)

Part 3

The ‘hut’ was deserted, and Heath remembered Nick telling him to rest- that he and the other prisoners were being loaded up to go out to work, even though they were getting a very late start what with the early morning’s ‘lesson in manners’ that they’d all been treated to, courtesy of one damn fool! Nick hadn’t said that last part, but he knew it was true. He felt an involuntary shudder course through his body as his mind flashed back to this morning’s events. The stark terror that had swept over him and the feel of that whip cutting into his back as he hung on the whipping post would not soon be forgotten.

He forced his thoughts back to the present. Nick had given him another drink of water and left it within easy reach, then ruffled his hair and told him to get some sleep, looking at him with that look in his eyes that always made him feel warm all over. He knew his big brother loved him; he’d had a demonstration of just how much, earlier this morning. He hoped Nick knew he felt the same way. He didn’t think he’d ever told him, not in words anyway- something he planned to remedy very soon.

All that seemed so long ago now, but he knew his sense of time was not to be trusted. Fever did that to him, made him disoriented, so that he had trouble knowing what was real and what only seemed real. And he knew his fever was going up, just as he knew his leg was getting worse; infected, most likely. But he wouldn’t think about that now; thinking on it wouldn’t change anything, and he had something more important he needed to do right now

Squirming carefully on his belly, he reached down to his boots that Nick had left half under the edge of his cot. Fishing one out, he was elated to discover that it was the one he wanted, and reaching in he found his little book still safely tucked as far into the toe as it could go. Good ol’ Nick! He knew if his brother found it he’d keep it safe. Carefully raising himself again on his elbows, he took the pencil from the book and began to write.

Although his writing was no longer the neat careful script he was so proud of, instead looking cramped and sometimes crooked, it was still legible, he decided. Besides, it was the best he could do, so it would have to do. He’d better get busy now-- it would only get worse, he admitted to himself. Between the pain that seemed to engulf his whole leg and the fever that kept rising, he was not feeling too good. He sure hoped Jarrod found them soon! Jarrod would know what to do. Jarrod always knew what to do.

Wednesday?

I got myself in a little trouble this morning so I’m- well confined to quarters I guess you could say. Its still morning and the rest of the prisoners- including Nick- have gone out to work. So I thought I’d write a little while its quiet and I have daylight- besides I dont think the guards would approve if me having this book so Ive been careful to keep it hidden from the other men in the hut just to be on the safe side. Only Nick knows I got it.

Its a real scorcher again today and I’m not sorry I’m in here- not that its so cool here either. I think Risley will probably send me out to work with the crew this afternoon and I’m not looking forward to that- so I’d better get busy, right?

With any kind of luck no one would ever read what he was about to write, but just in case.... He turned to a new page and continued writing as neatly as possible.

Mother

I know Jarrod will find us pretty soon and get us out of this hellhole but I also know I’m pretty sick and getting sicker. Don’t get me wrong- I plan to be around when Jarrod gets here but just in case I have some things I want to tell you. Maybe some of them I’ve already told you- I hope I have- but I want to tell you again. Like how proud I am to be your son and how much I love you and how lucky I am that you wanted me to be your son. I never dreamt that day I rode onto the ranch that I’d find a new home and a new famly that I love- and that loves me. These past months since I come here have been the best time of my life and I know I owe it all to you. If you hadn’t of welcomed me into your home and your lives it would have been a different story and I want you to know that I’ll never forget you no matter what happens.

If I don’t make it home please keep my Mama’s picture and think of me sometimes. Thank you for everything- you gave me a lot more than I ever deserved. I love you Mother

Your son Heath

When he stopped concentrating on his writing he became aware of the pain pulsing through his body, and laid his head down on the pillow to rest a few minutes. But he knew he couldn’t rest long- he had a job to do, and he needed to do it now- while he still could. He raised himself up on his elbows again, and turning to a fresh page he once again began to write.

Audra

Whenever I think of you I think of sunshine and smiles and laughter. My sweet little sister you are so special- I don’t think you know how special you are to me. I always wanted a little sister you know- to tease and spoil but I think Nick beat me to that so I just get to love you for all the joy you bring to others lives- your family, the orphans everyone around you. Don’t ever change little sis and don’t ever let anybody tell you how to live your life. Someday youll meet someone and fall in love for real never fear- I know you worry about that sometimes but you will. You’ll know whats right for you when the time comes I have no doubts.

I’ll love you always little Sis. Don’t forget.

Your brother Heath

Heath had been unaware of the passing of time as he concentrated on his composition, struggling to keep his writing legible as his hand tired and his eyes blurred. Unconsciously, he reached up and rubbed his eyes, now burning from the strain he was putting them to and from the fever. He finished his note to Audra just as he heard the rumble of the wagons returning to the compound, and quickly placing his pencil inside his little book, he shoved it back into its hiding place.

Part 4

Dusk had been settling in by the time the work crew returned that evening, after another long mind-numbing day. Although Heath had been allowed a chance to ‘meditate’ on his earlier ‘lesson’ for the remainder of the morning, he had been ordered to report for work with the rest of the crew after the noon meal. The afternoon had seemed endless to all the men, but for the pain-ridden, fevered Heath it had been a trial of human endurance. At the end he could hardly put one foot in front of the other even though Nick, along with Billy and Lobo, had done their best to make his work light without calling attention to the fact. By the time the order to return to the compound was finally given Heath had to be practically lifted into the wagon and supported by his brother’s strong arm for the ride back.

It was late now, and the brothers were both lying on their cots, exhausted. The hut was quiet, with only the sounds of sleeping men all around them. Nick had tried to stay awake to keep Heath company, knowing his brother was in pain, talking softly to him and trying to offer words of encouragement. Just hang on, Boy, Jarrod will be find us soon. Not much longer now, you can do it. Just hold on. He didn’t even have to look to see that his younger brother was sick- very sick. Fear sat like stone in his stomach, but he was tired- so tired- and finally could fight off sleep no longer, subsiding into gentle snores.

Heath was glad to see - hear? - Nick finally succumb to sleep, but what with the burning pain in his back and leg and his still rising temperature he had no illusions for himself. He would be unlikely to get any sleep tonight; he wasn’t even sure he wanted to try, knowing the unsettling fever dreams that could come with slumber. He could hardly remember the last time he had been able to get any sleep- real sleep. He wondered how long a man could go without sleeping. He shivered as a chill swept through his body. That was another problem; he alternated between freezing and burning up. Yep, he was one sick puppy!

Although Heath was in agony, barely able to tolerate his misery, he had set himself a task to complete, and he had a feeling that it was now or never. The way he was feeling, in another day he might not be able to do what he wanted- needed- to do. He’d tried to hide his sickness and pain from Nick but he wasn’t fooling himself. If Jarrod didn’t come soon....

He leaned down carefully and fished his boot out from under the cot again, retrieving the small book from its hiding place. He then rose slowly, painfully, from the cot, his back- bandages now removed since the bleeding had mostly stopped- stinging from the sweat running down it, and moving stiffly, once again found his spot by the dim lantern-lit window. There he adjusted his little book to the best advantage and resting the book once more on the crossbar, began to write. Writing was getting more difficult with each passing hour, but though wandering some on the page it was still readable, he thought. Jarrod first, he decided, because Nick would be hardest. Nick....

Thursday?

Its very late now- I’d guess around midnight, no watches remember? Nick finally went to sleep after I told him to just shut up he was keeping me awake. He has been doing all he can ever since we got here to take good care of me. Knowing my big brother I wonder how much longer I can keep him from doing something really dangerous. He is determined to get us out of this pit and he and Lobo have been hatching plots whenever they get a chance to put their heads together. I hope I can talk him out of doing anything foolish- but Nick is Nick! Well time to get down to business.

Starting at the top of a new page he struggled to write carefully, conscious of wanting to do his very best for his older brother- his teacher- who had spent many hours helping him catch up on his schooling. Heath had always been a reader, and with Jarrod’s patient instruction he was becoming a much better writer - he hoped - although his usual careful script was not in evidence tonight.

Jarrod

I don’t think I ever told you how proud I am of you- my older big brother. And how proud it makes me feel when you call me brother. I think you are the best man I ever knew Jarrod and the smartest- and probly the best lawyer too. But youve always been more than a brother to me- I never had a father growing up but if I did I’d want him to be just like you. Even when I first come to the ranch and you didnt know me you stood up for me. To Nick specially- Big Bad Nick!

You always made me feel like I was somebody and when I had a problem you always tried to help me solve it and baled me out when I got in trouble. You’ve tought me so much since I came to the ranch that I never would have lerned if it wasnt for you.

So I just wanted you to know that I love you Jarrod and if I don’t make it I’ll still know that you did everything that could be done to get us outa here. Just in case- I want you to have my gun you gave me for my birthday- its the best gun I ever saw. Thank you for being my brother Jarrod

Your brother Heath

By the time he finished Jarrod’s message Heath was almost reeling from exhaustion and pain. The fever wasn’t helping, either. He wondered if he could even make it back to his cot to rest for a little while. His legs were so weak he wasn’t sure they would hold him up much longer. He knew there was an unused cot nearer the window than the one assigned to him but he’d been warned by Billy not the use it or he’d get in trouble. Now he saw no other option. There was no way he could make it back to his own right now- not without a little rest. Besides, he hadn’t done Nick’s yet; he would need the window in a just little bit. Taking his hand off the wall that he was using to brace himself, Heath staggered drunkenly the few steps to that cot and flopped down thankfully.

Although the empty cot had no bedding on it, it did have a mattress that served Heath’s purpose, and he rolled over onto his side and lay there in utter misery. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so sick. Was this what it felt like to die? The thought crossed his mind in a flash, but he banished it as quickly as it had come. He’d just rest a minute and then … he’d … do … Niiick’s… Heath’s eyes closed and he heaved a heavy sigh, then was still.

Part 5

When Heath roused again the first soft glow of dawn was seeping through the barred windows of the hut. He could hardly believe that he had actually slept, in spite of everything. He guessed a man really couldn’t go forever without sleep, after all. He must have been dreaming some; he had a vague memory of Nick bending over him and the sound of his comforting voice sometime during the night, and Nick giving him water, but he never really woke. He even felt like he might live this morning.

Heath raised himself up on an elbow, stifling a groan, and looked around. The rest of the men were still sleeping- it must be very early, he realized. With wakefulness came the memory of the job he still needed to complete, the one he had planned to do last night when he fell asleep. Reaching into the breast pocket of his shirt- he had remembered to put it there for safekeeping just before he went to sleep, or passed out, whatever- he rolled over onto his stomach and raised himself on his elbows, then placing his small book on the cot, checked to see if there was enough light to write by. He was elated to see there was- just- so he picked up his pencil and, starting a new page, began his note to Nick. This would be the hardest one....

Friday?

Nick

I saved yours for last big brother cause I knew this would be the hardest. And I still dont know what to say. I think - I hop e- you know how much you mean to me. My big brother - my partner - my best friend - your all those and more. I sure lucked out when I got you for a brother Nick.

Like always your doing your damdest to take good care of me even in this pit and I want you to know that I preciate it- and all the other times you stood up for me too. I cant say Risleys little hotel has been the best place we ever stayed at, but we have had some good times since I came to the ranch have’nt we?

Coming to the ranch was the best thing I ever did and not cause of the land or anything like that. Its cause I found my family and I found you brother. If I say what I want to say you’ll probly pitch a fit Nick but I’m going to say it anyway- I love you big brother. You are one of the best men I ever knew- the other one is Jarrod. Yep I really got lucky when it comes to brothers.

Just in case- if Jarrod doesnt make it in time- I want you to have Charger. I know you’d never admit it big brother but Coco is getting too old for ranch work and I know you’ll take good care of him. Always remember the good times Nick and think of me sometimes.

Your Little Brother Heath

When he finished he examined his work critically. Well, that certainly wasn’t the neatest job he’d ever done- the words kinda wandered around over the page and some of the letters looked like they’d had a little too much to drink, but it was readable. He flexed his fingers and wiggled his wrist, his hand almost cramping from the tight grip he’d had on the pencil, but a feeling of satisfaction filled him. He’d done what he set out to do. Now he was ready..... however this all turned out.

By the time Heath had finished his note to Nick the rest of the men were beginning to wake, so he quickly tucked the little book back into his shirt pocket and made an effort to stand up. It seemed this morning like everything hurt! The pain in his back had settled into a dull ache but his leg felt worse than it ever had- and that was saying something. His fever was still there but at least he wasn’t having chills at the moment. Slowly and stiffly he made his way to his own cot, giving the still sleeping Nick a shake in passing, and retrieving his boots from under his cot he pulled the left boot on, unobtrusively slipping his book into it’s new home, and picked up his other boot. In a short time all the prisoners were up and getting ready for the day’s work- all, including Heath.

The crew had worked in the hot sun all morning clearing roadway, with no shade in sight. Even some of the more seasoned men had felt the effects of the heat, but for Heath, who had already been fighting fever and pain, Nick knew it had to have been sheer hell. Nick had hardly taken his eyes off his brother all morning, his soul sick with dread. My God! Heath! How much longer could he take this? Even a healthy man like himself could not work much longer in this stifling heat. He had not been surprised when he saw Heath stagger and drop to his hands and knees, then fall on his face. He had run to his brother’s side, wondering whether the guards would try to stop him, but no one had. Nick had dropped to his knees and lifted Heath, cradling him in his arms and raising his face heavenward in a silent plea. Please God! Jarrod! Where are you?

The seemingly endless morning finally ended, and the prisoners were loaded into the wagons for the trip back to the camp. Many of them were suffering from the combination of heat and backbreaking work. After passing out, Heath had been allowed to rest the short time before the crew was taken back for the noon meal, but he had to be practically lifted into the wagon and all that kept him from falling onto the wagon bed were Nick’s strong arms as he held him securely, murmuring encouraging words softly in his ear.

By the time the wagon reached the compound, Heath hardly knew what was going on; just that he was so hot- and so sick. His legs could hardly hold him when he was helped off the wagon, only Nick’s tight grip on his arm and his own grip on the side of the wagon keeping him upright. And then somehow Jarrod was there. Jarrod! Everything would be all right now. Jarrod was finally here! Jarrod would get them out of this hellhole.

Part 6

But it hadn’t turned out that way. Jarrod had gone for the Circuit Judge and Nick and Heath were to wait for Jarrod to return. It wouldn’t be long, he promised. Heath heard his older brother’s parting words in a fog of pain and weariness. “Just hang on Heath! It won’t be much longer!” He was trying-- trying hard, as Jarrod had commanded.

After helping Heath into the hut, where the men were allowed a short time to wash up before going to the cook house for the noon meal, Nick helped his brother over to his cot and lowered him gently onto it, lifting his legs up so he could lie clear down. It was obvious to Nick that Heath could do no more work today. Hell, this boy couldn’t even stand up, let alone work! He didn’t know if the guards would insist Heath go back out with the crew this afternoon, or if pleading with them would do any good- but he was sure was going to try.

The guards were not all unfeeling, and these two, after hearing Nick’s plea and putting their heads together for a few minutes, looking again at Heath lying prostrate on the cot, agreed that Heath could stay in the hut and rest while the other men were eating. Nick could bring him his food when the prisoners were returned after the meal. Nick was thankful for even this small accommodation and left his brother with a pat on the shoulder and tousle of the hair. “I’ll be back before you know it, Brother. You just rest now- maybe you can get a little shut-eye.” And then he was gone with the others

Heath heard his brother’s words, but they hardly penetrated the fog he was in. He was aware of the silence when everyone had gone and wondered vaguely, Where’s Nick? But he was too exhausted to worry long, and soon fell into a troubled half-sleep that was interrupted by the sounds of footsteps and loud voices, then a rough shake of his shoulder. He looked up blearily into the face of a guard. “Wha’s up? Wha d’ya want?”

“You, boy!” This was the voice of the head guard, and Heath forced himself awake just as he was grabbed by both arms at the biceps and yanked to his feet. He was held roughly between two guards and they began to walk him toward the door, which he saw was open. Heath staggered, stumbling over his own feet as the guards marched him at a quick pace. Still half asleep, the dazed Heath soon found himself standing staring at something he had hoped never to see again. An iron box. His blood ran cold, in spite of the sweltering heat, and memories of Carterson swam through his churning brain.

Almost before Heath was alert enough to know what was happening, he was being shoved into the opening of the sweat box, then his feet lifted in and the heavy door slammed shut. He heard the key turn in the lock. Terror filled his soul and he wanted to scream, to yell for Nick to come rescue him, to fight- somebody, anybody! But he had no fight left even it he’d had something to fight- the box had taken the fight right out of him. He’d always hated small spaces, dark places- been afraid, he admitted to himself. He had too many bad memories of small confined spaces- Carterson was the first memory that came to mind, and the worst, but he’d hated the mines for the same reason. And it was already so hot- he thought of the heat this morning, and now it was afternoon. This box would be a furnace by the time the day was over. Could any man survive that? Could he?

It was getting hard to breathe- he wasn’t getting enough air! Heath tried to take deep breaths, but he felt his chest tightening up, and a panicky feeling swept over him. As he struggled for air, he tipped his head back. It was then he noticed the row of small holes along the top of the box- air holes. He realized then that the problem wasn’t the box- there was air in here- the problem was in his head. Just calm down, Heath. You’re just scared outa your gourd! As he consciously relaxed his body his breathing slowed and gradually returned to near normal. Hallelujah!

Once Heath relaxed a little, he realized that the box wasn’t totally dark inside; the air holes allowed a small bit of light to seep in, enough to see by. He wondered if there was enough to write by, in case.... Carefully he reached into his boot and pulled out his little book, opening it to the first page. Could he read it? Yes! Barely. Could he see to write? He picked up his pencil and wrote his name on the page. Yes. He’d just have write a little bigger. He wasn’t sure why this was important to him now, but it was.

With that settled, he tucked the book back in his boot and leaned back... and waited. Waited for Jarrod to come back with the Judge. Waited for Nick to get him out of this furnace. Waited.... As time went by, Heath was less and less sure of what he was waiting for, he only knew that he had to wait.... His leg was killing him- there was no room to stretch it out, and that’s what he needed to do. And he was too hot- way too hot. At first the sweat had poured off of him, plastering his shirt to his body, stinging the cuts- but that had been awhile ago. Now it had all dried up, he guessed. Was that bad? He’d only had a little water since he’d gotten sick and passed out this morning. Nick said he had to be careful so it wouldn’t make him sick. Although Nick had given him pretty good drink just before he left, he wished now he’d drunk a gallon!

Heath knew that ever since he’d come to the Barkleys he’d shared in the ‘Barkley Luck’ that others talked about, either with admiration or disdain, depending on who was doing the talking. But he had a feeling that that luck had just about run out- for him anyway.... What were the chances that Jarrod would be back in time- he’d heard him tell Nick he wasn’t even sure where the Judge was. And Nick- even big tough Nick Barkley couldn’t fight off all those guards. Nick! He knew his big brother well. Nick would take all the blame on himself if he couldn’t get him out of this box in time. Never mind that there were guards all over the place, he’d think, If only I’d done thus and so- I shoulda, maybe if.... He needed to tell Nick that he knew he’d done his best, and that was all anyone could ever do. Even big Nick Barkley.

Carefully, he bent his leg a little more, feeling the suggestion of a cramp tightening the muscles of his calf as he pulled his foot within reach, then fished his book out of the boot. He gave a sigh of relief as he straightened his leg as much as possible, feeling the cramp easing. That’s just what he needed! A cramp when he couldn’t stretch his leg. Well, he was lucky this time- maybe his luck was still holding.

Turning the little book this way and that, he finally found the place where he could see to write, and picking up his pencil he began a last message to his beloved big brother. His writing was no longer small, no longer neat, but wandered all over the page in an uneven scrawl.

Nick- If I dont make it big brother I want you to know that I know you did evrything you could to get me outa here- if you couldnt do it no one culd. Remeber the good times Nick- we had alot of them dint we? I love you Nick- you are the best big brother a man coud ever have and if this is all there is for me God willing I’ll see you some day on the other side-. Heath

Almost forgot- would you please give everybody there notes-

Closing his precious book gently, he printed N I C K in big sprawling letters across the outside cover, a feeling of sorrow filling his heart. It had been so good, he had been so lucky. If now was his time, then so be it... although he couldn’t deny he was afraid. He wasn’t ready to die, he admitted to himself with an aching heart. He had so much to live for! The faces of his family flashed before his mind’s eye, each one special in their own way. Nick! He sighed heavily, feeling the hot tears sting his eyes, and brushed them away with his shirt sleeve. Sighing again, he risked the cramp and tucked the little book back into his boot. Someone was bound to find it.... later. He prayed to God it could be Nick.

Heath leaned wearily against the side of the box, exhausted from his efforts- not just the physical act of writing but the concentration it had required. He was having a harder and harder time staying focused; stray thoughts and visions swarmed through his mind as the deadly combination of heat, fever and pain slowly overwhelmed him. He knew he was holding on to reality by a tiny thread, and that tenuous cord could not hold much longer. He leaned more heavily on the wall of the box, and with a last prayer and a sense of peace, he gave his soul to God. It was in His hands now. He closed his eyes and waited for what would come....

Part 7

*Nick glanced Risley’s way once again, seeing him struggling to rise to his feet. He should have finished the job! That animal didn’t deserve to live. His eyes lit on the gun lying in the dirt. Damn! I shoulda thought to pick up that rifle! The thoughts flashed through his mind and were instantly forgotten in his focus on the task at hand. Heath! He had to get his brother outa here. This damn box- why wouldn’t the key go in? Sick dread filled his soul and he fought to still his trembling hands. Dammit, go in there! Once again the key refused to fit in the keyhole. Nick took a deep breath, then using his other hand to steady the one holding the key, finally got the key in the slot. The key turned stiffly in the lock, Nick forcing it to cooperate, but finally he felt it release.

As he grabbed the handle and turned it carefully- he had no idea where his brother might be lying in the box- Nick’s heart was filled with dread. He’d kept his eyes glued to this hated iron box all afternoon, sick with fear, hearing Heath’s occasional cries and disjointed ramblings- and then.... nothing. Nothing for a long time now. Too long? Could any man still be alive after all this? Even his little brother, who was the strongest man he’d ever known?

The heavy door resisted at first, then creaked open. Please God! please, please.... he pleaded silently. Not knowing how his brother might be positioned, Nick cautiously pulled the door open, and Heath tumbled lifelessly out of the box and into his arms, a dead weight. Although he was so hot his body seemed almost on fire to Nick, he was breathing, albeit in rapid, shallow open-mouthed pants that shook his whole body.

Nick clutched his brother fiercely to his chest and gave thanks, running his fingers through Heath’s sweat-matted hair. He was alive! His little brother was alive.... Thank you, God! “Heath! Heath!” he choked out, tipping Heath’s head to look into the handsome face. He felt a chill pass over him as he looked more closely at him. His face was blush-red and his breathing was even worse now- irregular, almost gasping for air. As Nick looked, he stopped breathing for a moment, then took another gasping breath and resumed the panting breaths. Nick clasped his brother to his heart again in thankfulness. “Heath!” It was more than a name, it was a prayer. Nick had never felt more terrified and more helpless in his life.

As Nick crouched at the open door of the iron box with Heath in his arms, he heard the sound of horses at the entry gate and voices shouting. Riders! Could it be...? Looking around, he saw one rider come galloping into the compound ahead of the rest. Jarrod! Jarrod had finally come! But was he in time? His eyes turned again to this struggling brother.**

*From the aired episode, roughly.

Part 8

Nick sat quietly watching Heath sleep, elbows on knees and his chin resting on his folded hands. He was so tired... but how could he sleep, when even the doctor had no idea when Heath would wake up? Or even if he would wake up.... And if... when he did wake there was always the possibility of brain damage, the doctor had added regretfully. Nick brushed his hair out of his eyes, where it had wound up after he had run his hands through it too many times, and sighed. “Come on, Little Brother, you can’t let that bastard win. Fight, Boy!” He reached over and tousled Heath’s now clean hair gently.

There was no response. Heath lay as still as death, propped up with pillows to ease his breathing, his face looking almost colorless now after the flush of the high temperature he’d been suffering when they’d gotten him out of that oven. Nick laid his hand lightly on his brother’s forehead. His fever had finally dropped; not completely gone but not life threatening now as it had been for hours afterwards. His breathing sounded almost normal, finally. Yes, the doctor said their brother was stable now, and he looked as if he were sleeping peacefully.

There was only one little problem. He wouldn’t wake up. Oh, he opened his eyes once in awhile, and he swallowed the little trickles of water when they held a cup to his lips, but he wasn’t really awake. Nick’s heart sank as this beloved little brother once again opened unfocused eyes and seemed to gaze right through him. Heath had had only a few moments of semi-consciousness right after he’d been rescued from the sweat box night before last. Now he was in a coma- that’s what the doctor called it, anyway, explaining that while it was not a deep coma, in that some of Heath’s more instinctive responses were still in evidence- for instance he would swallow when a cup was put to his lips and he occasionally opened his eyes and moved his hands, etc.- he was not really aware; this the aftermath of his sky-high temperature and the seizure he’d suffered as a result. Nick recalled the doctors words with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as his mind slipped back to that nightmarish scene.

Jarrod had pulled Jingo to a sliding halt and quickly dismounted, rushing over to kneel beside his brothers. “You’re going to be all right, Heath! I brought a doctor.” Jarrod had spoken quickly, reassuringly, kneeling and reaching forward to take Heath from Nick’s arms, then gently easing him onto the ground so the doctor could better examine him. As the brothers changed positions, Heath had seemed to rouse a bit, raising his head, body stiffening for a few moments before he went limp again and his head dropped into Jarrod’s ready arms. The doctor, who had been right behind Jarrod, quickly knelt down and opening his bag had prepared to check him over.

The doctor had just begun his cursory examination, unbuttoning Heath’s filthy shirt and placing the stethoscope over his wildly racing heart, as he inquired about a place to do a more thorough exam, when Heath had stiffened again, his back arching and his head thrown back, body rigid, arms and legs jerking violently. Nick had never seen anything like it, and just the memory of it now made him feel sick to his stomach. The seizure had probably lasted less than a minute, but it had seemed like hours to Nick- and to Jarrod, too, from he look on his face as he’d caught his eye. The doctor had turned Heath on his side and held him there gently but firmly, body still convulsing, explaining that Heath could swallow his tongue or vomit and this was merely a precaution. When his body had finally ceased its chaotic movements, the doctor had laid him back down again and he lay motionless in the dust, eyes closed, unmoving.

The doctor had instructed them, he and Jarrod, on how to carry Heath, cautioning them to be careful with his burned leg so there’d be no further damage. They had picked him up just so, Nick taking his upper body and Jarrod his legs, carefully draping them over his arms so the burn was exposed. While the doctor and his brothers were tending Heath, the Judge had been making inquiries and had determined that the best place to take care of the sick man was Risley’s own quarters. Being two stories, it would be the coolest place in the camp, and would accommodate all the Barkleys as well as the doctor, and this information he passed along to the caretakers.

Together they had carried Heath into Risley’s quarters, laying him down on a cot in a small room off the office on the ground floor. The cot was bare save for a mattress, as the doctor had directed. There they had quickly stripped Heath of his torn blood and sweat stained shirt, but the doctor had ordered his pants cut from his flaccid body, a task which Nick had promptly performed using Jarrod’s knife. Sometime during his long incarceration in that oven he had wet himself- Nick had known it the instant he opened the door of the sweat box- and cutting his damp pants off seemed the most practical choice. Too, there was the burn to consider; it wouldn’t do to risk causing it any further damage. The last thing they had done was to pull off his boots, Jarrod taking the left and Nick the right. Both focused on protecting his badly burned leg, they had dropped the boots carelessly onto the floor, kicking them out of the way.

Nick knew he’d never forget those next hours if he lived to be a hundred. The doctor drenching Heath in what had seemed like gallons of cold water brought in by the marshals, then he and Jarrod fanning him with towels, over and over, all the while pleading with him to hang on, to be strong, to wake up. Placing and replacing soaking wet towels on his burning forehead, lifting him and cautiously giving him little trickles of water by squeezing a wet cloth into his open mouth. The doctor resting his hand on his brother’s flushed face, to see if his temperature had gone down any, shaking his head grimly and ordering them to continue. He had no idea how much time had passed before the doctor had finally nodded his head with a look of relief, and told them they could stop now. The mattress Heath had been lying on was soaked through when they finally got him cooled down to the doctor’s satisfaction, and without any covering he had begun to chill, even though his fever still was far from gone.

While the doctor and the brothers had been working with Heath, a narrow bed that had been upstairs, it what was obviously Risley’s room, had been dismantled and brought downstairs, then reassembled by a couple of former guards under the supervision of one of the marshals. This had been set up in the office area- the much larger room on the ground floor where they had been brought when they first arrived at the camp- and had been made up with sheets and pillows at the doctor’s directions. They had discussed carrying Heath upstairs to be put to bed, but had concluded that it was too hot for anyone up there, let alone someone who’d just had a seizure from hyperthermia, or so the doctor had proclaimed.

Drying Heath with clean towels, Nick and Jarrod had picked him up carefully and moved him to the waiting bed, gently laying him down on his back. There the doctor had cleaned and dressed his injuries; his leg first, gently sponging away the dirt and soot that still clung to the badly infected burn, then carefully removing dead tissue from the site. When he was finally satisfied that he’d done all he could do, he covered the burned area with a light film of ointment before wrapping it loosely with gauze bandage. Finally, with his brothers turning him on his stomach, the doctor had followed the same procedure with Heath’s back, but had left off the bandages, depending on another of Risley’s sparkling clean sheets- found in an upstairs closet- folded and tucked in over the bottom sheet to preserve his careful doctoring. When he had finished, Heath had again been placed on his back, pillows beneath his head and upper body to ease his breathing. The last thing the doctor had done was to cover the now chilling blond with a light blanket, tucking it loosely around him.

Throughout all this Heath had not made a sound or given any indication of awareness, his body completely lax, except for the involuntary shivers. Nick had been thankful at the time that his little brother had stayed unconscious throughout what he knew would have been a terrible ordeal. This boy had had enough pain. He sure didn’t need any more. Now he almost wished Heath could have felt some of that pain-- almost anything would be better than this.

Part 9

A strong breeze blew through the opened windows, and combined with the rumble of distant thunder gave hope of a break in the stifling heat that had hung on for days now, but Nick wasn’t aware of it. His thoughts were still locked in the past, with the horror they had just lived through. If Heath lived.... The sound of a door opening brought him back to the present. He looked up slowly. Jarrod was standing in the open doorway.

“How is he, Nick? Any change?” His face and voice reflecting his weariness and anxiety, Jarrod looked as disheveled as Nick had ever seen him, not at all his usual dapper self. He had been working nonstop ever since he had returned, with the Judge and the marshals, to help unravel the tangled web woven by Risley and his cohorts, who had been taken off by some of the marshals to be incarcerated elsewhere. Where, Jarrod had not asked, nor did he care, at least at the moment. His was not an easy task; the marshals had siezed all the paperwork from Risley’s office that first night and, with the help of Jarrod and the Judge, they were painstakingly going through all of it. The lawyer was exhausted and it showed. In one hand he carried Heath’s dusty, battered boots, which he absentmindedly set down on a nearby bench.

Nick replied with a disheartened sigh, “Nothin’, Jarrod. He just lays there- moves his hands a little bit once in awhile, and opens his eyes now and then, but he doesn’t see anything- know what I mean? His eyes... he’s just not there, Jarrod.” Nick tried unsuccessfully to keep the quaver out of his voice, feeling the unwanted tears come to his eyes. He was so tired... and so afraid.

“Give him some time, Nick. It’s way too early to give up! Maybe his body and mind just need some time to recover from all he’s been through, and this coma is Mother Nature’s way of ensuring that he gets that time.” Jarrod’s words were meant to comfort Nick, but he couldn’t help but wonder how much truth there was in them, if any. In fact, he was as worried as Nick about their younger brother’s continued state of unresponsiveness.

As Nick turned his face back to his little brother, tenderly running his hand through Heath’s hair and then resting his open palm on Heath’s stubbly cheek, Jarrod’s worried glance took in Nick’s haggard face and the dark circles under his eyes. If Nick didn’t get some sleep soon....

Jarrod’s was the voice of authority when he spoke again; the in-charge older brother. “Nick, do you think you’re going to do anybody any good if you don’t get some rest? I can watch Heath sleep just as well as you can, at least for awhile. He’s my brother, too, remember? You go get something to eat and then lie down for a little while, before you fall down!”

“Awful bossy there, aren’t ya, Big Brother! If it wasn’t that you’re probably right I just might take exception to that last comment.” Nick returned with a fierce scowl on his beard-shadowed face. The stress of the last few days was clear on his face and the scowl and the dark stubble gave him the look of a pirate, to his brother’s eyes.

“Go on, get out of here, you big lug!” Jarrod rested his hand on Nick’s shoulder, squeezing reassuringly, then patted him on the back. “And don’t come back ‘til you’ve had a bath! It’s getting pretty ripe in here, what with one thing and another!” He ducked as Nick took a playful swipe at him.

Looking back as he exited the room, Nick rejoined, “Well, you don’t exactly smell like a rose, yourself, Pappy! Jarrod, don’t forget to give him some sugar water every little bit- you know how the doc showed us. Be real careful- just a trickle, so it don’t choke him. Oh, and I’ll be right back, soon as I clean up a bit and find a clean shirt. I’ll just bring some food back with me and rest right here on the cot.” The cots had been brought into the office after Heath had been taken care of, for the use of the doctor and the brothers, and Nick gestured to the one right beside Heath’s bed. Though the doctor had gone back to town yesterday afternoon after he had pronounced Heath stable and no longer in danger, pleading the necessity of checking on a patient due to deliver soon, he had promised to return later this morning.

Jarrod sat down in the chair just vacated by Nick and gazed somberly at his blond brother. As always when he looked upon Heath sleeping, he was struck by how innocent and defenseless this young man looked when he slept. Once, not long after he had first come to them, he was sick and running a fever and as Mother had brushed his hair from his forehead to check his temperature she had studied his sleeping face. He could hear her words as clearly as if she were in the room, “This boy has the face of an angel.” At this moment he agreed with her completely.

My God! What would it do to Nick if Heath didn’t live? Or, perhaps worse, if he didn’t ever wake up? He knew it would break Nick’s heart if his ‘Little Brother’ never came back to them. Who would ever have dreamed that these two- as different as night and day- could become so close? Certainly not him! And knowing Nick, he was blaming himself for not getting Heath out of that damnable box sooner; but really, what could he have done differently? He was only one man, and the guards were many.... And if anyone was to blame.... Jarrod couldn’t stop the thought that crept insidiously into his mind as he remembered his own earlier actions in challenging Risley. He should have known better!

As Jarrod continued to keep watch over this younger brother, careful to give him the sugar water regularly as the doctor- and Nick- had ordered, he was unaware of the passing of time. He only knew he must keep alert, a job that seemed to be growing harder by the minute as his tired mind and body sought to take advantage of the quiet. He could hardly remember the last time he’d sat down, let alone lay down, and actually been able to rest. As he studied Heath, who appeared to be sleeping peacefully, he found his own eyes wanting to close and becoming harder and harder to get open and he slumped lower into the chair.

“Hey, Jarrod! You’re supposed to be keepin’ an eye on him!” Nick’s voice startled Jarrod out of his daze. “You better take that nap ‘stead of me! I’m all woke up now. Got cleaned up, got a clean shirt- sure it’s got numbers on it, but it is clean! I got one for you... and Heath, too, soon’s he needs it. Some pants, too!” Nick set a cloth sack down on Risley’s large desk, which had been pushed back against a wall to give them more room. “I brought some food, if you’re hungry- just sandwiches and apples, but that’ll have to do for now. Oh, and coffee.” He placed two tin cups on the desk with the sack, and proceeded to pour himself a cup from the small pot he was carrying, looking inquiringly at Jarrod, who nodded, struggling to suppress a yawn.

As the brothers drank their coffee and ate their sandwiches, they kept an eye on Heath, giving him the sugar water as prescribed. Although he gave no indication that he was aware of anything going on around him, he continued to swallow the small amounts of water they gave him, occasionally opening unfocused eyes, still making small random movements of his hands and feet from time to time. The doctor had switched him to sugar water after the first night, and he seemed be handling it without a problem. The real problem was that he didn’t seem to be any closer to waking up than he’d been that first night after they’d rescued him from the box. As they ate they talked to Heath and to each other, making small comments and hoping to get a response from Heath, to no avail.

“Ya know, Jarrod, I got quite a bit of sleep night before last, and I’m pretty woke up right now.” Nick returned to the previous topic. He had gotten some sleep, although it was not intentional but the sleep of utter exhaustion. After they’d gotten Heath taken care of, he had sat down to keep an eye on his little brother, and the next thing he knew it was morning. Of course, by the time they’d finished taking care of Heath it was practically morning-- or at least well after midnight. “I’ll bet you haven’t slept for longer than me!”

“Well, you might be right, Nick. I really don’t know who’s slept the longest, or last, or.... whatever. But I have to admit I am having a hard time keeping my eyes open, so if you’re sure you really are as ‘woke up’ as you say, I think I’ll take you up on that nap just as soon as I’m done eating. Give me about an hour, and then wake me, OK?

Nick nodded as he put the last bite of sandwich in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully, then finishing off with the last swig of coffee he’d been saving so he’d come out even. His eyes traveled around the room, almost for the first time. He had been so focused on Heath that he’d hardly paid any attention to their surroundings.

”Where’d Heath’s boots come from? I just noticed ‘em sittin’ there.” Something hovered in the back of Nick’s mind but he couldn’t pin it down. Something about Heath’s boots....

Part 10

“One of the marshals handed them to me just before I came back in this morning, said he wondered if they were worth saving. There was a marshal with a couple of former guards in the other room picking up and cleaning up early yesterday morning. I’m sure it was a real mess in there by the time we got Heath taken care of; all that water on the floor and a soaking wet mattress, the doctor’s scraps, not to mention our little brother’s clothes- what there was left of them! I’m guessing the marshal picked up the boots then, but he’d had orders not to disturb us so he took them back with him to their quarters. You must have still been asleep while that was going on.”

”I can’t believe I slept through all that! They must have been awful quiet, and I find that hard to believe. They’d have had to traipse right through this room to do it and I know I wouldn’ta slept through that!”

”Well, you are a pretty good sleeper, Brother Nick, but in this case you’re right. As it happens, there’s another door that leads to the back of the house, so they went in and out that way. And yes, they were pretty quiet; they shut that door,” Jarrod gestured to the door behind them, “and I hardly heard them at all.”

Studying Heath’s boots, Nick mused, “Ya know, Jarrod, I think our little brother’s just about due for a new pair of boots, what do you think? I know he said he was gonna wear these ‘til they fell apart, but I’d say they’ve about had it, wouldn’t you? I wonder if I can convince him?”

He paused, considering the boots, “On second thought, maybe we should just throw these away and buy him a new pair!” As he spoke, Nick stood up and took the few steps over to the bench where Heath’s boots rested, reaching out a hand to pick one up, then rubbing his other hand softly over the scuffed leather. He was quiet for a few moments, gazing down at the boot in his hands, then, with an involuntary shudder, he clutched the boot fiercely to his chest and looked up at Jarrod, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, his voice hoarse, “Guess we better hold off on that a little while, huh, Pappy?” his eyes silently pleading with his beloved big brother to make everything right, just as he had so many years ago.

Jarrod’s heart ached for Nick’s pain, but there was nothing he could do to take away his brother’s heartache. Only Heath could do that, and he prayed to God that their blond brother would live and that he would come back to Nick- to all of them. He stood up and crossed to Nick’s side, putting his arm around his shoulders. “Come on, Nicholas, don’t give up on him yet! You know if anyone can beat this it’s our brother Heath. You’ve always said he was the strongest man you’ve ever known, and sounded like you meant it, so we just have to have faith that you’re right. In the meantime we just have to keep doing what we’ve been doing and give him this time to rest and heal.

As Nick held Heath’s boot to his heart he suddenly remembered what it was about Heath’s boots that had been hovering just out of reach, and he abruptly turned the boot upside down and shook it, reaching in to be sure nothing was there. “Jarrod! Heath’s little notebook! I know he was carrying it in his boot for safekeeping- I saw it when....” his voice trailed off. “It was in one of his boots.”

Jarrod turned and reached down for the other boot while Nick was still standing there as if frozen. He had no idea why the notebook seemed so important to Nick, but obviously it was. Picking up the other boot he reached in, and feeling something in the bottom of the boot, he carefully extracted the small book Nick was seeking, glancing at it as he did so. “Here it is Nick, and it looks like he wanted you to have it- to read it, anyway. Your name is written across the cover.” He handed the little book to Nick, who was already reaching for it. “Nick, this doesn’t make sense; how could this book have stayed in his boot all this time?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care, Brother! What I do know is that Heath woulda been writin’ in this little book anytime he got the chance after we were put in this hellhole- and I doubt he was sleepin’ much!” With that, he moved back to stand by his little brother’s side, ruffling his hair gently and gazing at his quiet face. “Found it, Little Brother- your notebook. You’re a good hider, aren’t ya? I don’t think anyone caught on but me. Well, it’s got my name on it, so I guess you wanted me to have it- or at least read it.” He patted Heath’s chest tenderly, “Hey, you hurry up and wake up, Boy! We’re gettin’ tired waitin’ on ya.

With a last pat for his younger brother, who had not shown any response, Nick sat down in the chair by Heath’s bed and opened it to the first page, leafing slowly through the first several pages of the small book. “Hmm, just pretty much little brother’s usual- where we went, what we bought- he kept track of all the stock we bought, the seller, what we paid, how we shipped it, etc. Some notes about the towns, the area, where we camped. The usual little sketches here and there, nothing special. Here! Right here’s his last entry just before we got put in this pit!” He scanned the entry quickly, his face darkening. “That crooked sonofabitch! Listen to this, Jarrod!”

Monday, June 16

McGowan- 1 prime 3 yr old Hereford bull- $300 cash

no Bill of Sale- foreman will deliver

“Yeah, right!”

Nick proceeded to skim quickly through what Heath had written that first night after they had been brought to the camp, then looked up at Jarrod, who was hovering close, his eyes questioning. “Wanta hear this?” At Jarrod’s nod he proceeded to read the entry aloud, passing lightly over the more personal parts.

Tuesday?

Its very late. I don’t know the time- they took our watches. Everyone is sleeping even Nick finally. Nick paused a moment, skimming, “Umm... uh..... here we go....” Its very warm tonight here in Captain Risleys little hotel, and my leg makes it hard to sleep so I decided to jot down a few thoughts for later- when we get out of this mess. We were brought here last night by the sheriff- Sheriff Barnes- accused of stealing a bull we paid cash for. Well we found out pretty quick it was all a put up deal- the sheriff and the warden and a local rancher are behind it and some of the guards are in on it. Whenever McGowan- that’s the rancher- needs some work done he has the sheriff arrest some poor sucker and assigns him to the work camp. Free labor and if he dies too bad- they just go get another poor soul. Somebody has to stop them. My choice would be Jarrod.

I’m pretty tired now and I think I might be able to get some sleep- maybe I can. My leg hurts too much to stand up anymore anyway. Risley told Nick I could see the Doc tomorrow- maybe he’ll give me something so I can sleep after he fixes my leg.

Nick looked up. “Let me tell you about how the doc fixed his leg, Jarrod!” His voice was hard with outrage. “He didn’t! He was dead drunk, and when Heath tried to take care of it himself, Risley came into the infirmary and started yammerin’. I don’t know what all was said, but it seems our cool-headed brother lost his cool and told Risley where to stick it! They whipped him, Jarrod! With a bullwhip! I told you they whipped him- but I never told you they whipped him ‘til he passed out! I wanted to kill that sonofabitch so bad! If it hadn’t been for Billy and Lobo I don’t know what would have happened!” His voice broke, then resumed with a deadly edge. “I should’na stopped when I had my hands around his throat!”

*Nick paused for a moment to regain control, then continued, his face a mask of pain. “I didn’t tell you all of it, Jarrod. We’d been workin’ and came in for the noon meal, and Risley’s men came and got him after they’d marched us over to eat. Our guards could see how sick he was so they’d agreed to let him stay in the hut and rest, and I was goin’ to bring him his food. When I got back, he was gone. Soon as we left, Risley’s men took him and put him it that.... ” Nick was having trouble controlling his voice and his emotions and he stopped for an instant, then resumed, his voice echoing his rage and anguish. “After we came back from eating, Risley said it was so hot in the sun now it’d kill a man standing, let alone working, so there’d be no more work the rest of the day- we were confined to quarters. And that bastard put Heath in that damned box out in that hot sun right in front of the hut, without even letting him have any water!”

“Do you know what that feels like- to stand at those bars all afternoon and listen to your little brother slowly goin’ out of his mind, pleading with you to get him out of there- and not be able to do a damn thing about it? You couldn’t! No one could who wasn’t there! It made me sick! I never knew I could hate anyone so much!”

“And then Risley’s men came for me, and brought me here. Oh, they didn’t have to force me, I came willingly enough. I was a fool! I thought Risley wanted to negotiate and I was ready to do anything- promise anything- to get Heath out of that..... that torture chamber. But, no, what that monster wanted was to turn the screws just a little bit more! He told me his price was my ‘Barkley dignity.’ If I’d get down on my knees to that slime and beg him for Heath’s life, he’d let him out of that box. Well, you know me pretty well, Jarrod, and you know it wouldn’t come easy to me to crawl to any man. But it was no contest- my ‘dignity’ against my little brother’s life? Then when I did what he’d told me to, he just laughed and laughed like a lunatic. It took three guards to haul me back to the hut, I’da killed ‘em all if I could, and believe me, Brother, I was tryin’! ‘Course I know now this was just another little ploy to get us to try to escape, so they could get rid of us before you got back with the Judge.

“Nick, I’m sure this whole thing has been a horrible experience for both you and Heath, but I can’t help but be glad you stopped short of murder- and that’s what it would been, make no mistake! Even though I don’t doubt Risley deserves to be punished for his transgressions, it’s not your place to do it, much as you’d love to! And I certainly don’t want you in prison, Brother Nick!” This was Jarrod the lawyer speaking, while Jarrod the brother agreed wholeheartedly with Nick. When he thought of what that monster had done to his brothers, he found himself thinking that killing was too good for Risley. He deserved to suffer as he had made others suffer.

*A departure from the aired episode, just simply because I don’t believe that anyone- even Heath Barkley- could survive a whole day in that iron box in that kind of heat, especially without water. Not and have any kind of a life afterwards, anyway!

Part 11

“Hey, Jarrod!” Nick’s voice broke into his thoughts, sounding much relieved after getting a chance to air his bottled-up emotions, “I thought you were going to take a nap? Why don’t you lie down now while everything’s quiet and catch a few winks? I’ll wake you in an hour or so. Why don’t you take that cot over there?” motioning toward the cot over against the far wall- the cot farthest from Heath’s bed. “I just might want to have a word with this boy when I get done.” Nick’s gaze and thoughts had returned to Heath’s small book in his hand, and he was anxious to return to it.

As Jarrod lay down and courted sleep, knowing that his younger brother desired privacy to read whatever Heath had written, Nick opened the book again to the page he had kept with a well-placed finger, then leafed through the little book slowly, glancing briefly at each page as he turned it. “Looks like he’s written notes to everyone, Jarrod. One for Mother, Audra, one for you, Big Brother, which I’ll let you read later after you’ve had your nap, and- Aha- one for me! .... And another one for me.”

With that, Nick proceeded to read what Heath had thought was so important to be sure he read that he’d written his, Nick’s, name on the front of his little book. He read Heath’s entries for each day, but passed over the personal messages until he came to his own, then started with the first message, reading slowly and digesting it as he read, a feeling of warmth filling his spirit, and continued to the second. As he read he could almost hear his little brother’s voice, and with an empty feeling inside he knew that this was meant to be goodbye; especially the second note, obviously written after Heath was already inside that oven. Heath did not expect to survive this last insult to his mind and body- the iron box.

As Nick contemplated his brother’s words he was fighting tears, and his heart was filled with regret that he had never told this ‘new’ brother- in words- how much he loved him, what his coming to them had meant to him. Had he even showed him by his actions? He thought Heath knew, but was he sure? It was so easy to just take for granted that Heath knew how he felt, but why should he? Here was a boy who’d been looked down on all his life for something he had no control over- why should he just naturally assume that his big brother loved him? Why is it so hard, Nick wondered, to tell a brother that you love him? It was easy to tell your mother or your sister, but somehow, it seemed, it just wasn’t.... manly?.. to tell a brother how much he meant to you.

He swore to God to do things differently if only he had another chance. His little brother, especially this little brother, shouldn’t ever have to wonder if his big brother loved him- if his family loved him. As he studied his unconscious brother, Nick mused on his feelings for this young man. He had had a lifetime to form a bond with his other siblings, but his bond with this new brother had taken him by surprise- after all, they hadn’t gotten off to a very good start at brotherhood. Yet, in some ways, he realized, this new bond was the strongest of all- maybe because they were together practically every day on the ranch. But it was much more than that, he knew. Somehow they just seemed to complete each other. He vowed to make Heath understand what an important role he played in his life, in his family’s life. If only he would wake up....

Nick glanced over at Jarrod, now sleeping quietly with his back turned to the room, then stood up and took the step to his little brother’s side, raising his head a bit and giving him water again. As he gently lowered his head, Heath’s eyes opened. “Heath!” Nick spoke softly, not wanting to wake Jarrod. Nothing. “Heath!” he tried again. Heath seemed to gaze into space, his eyes open but unseeing, then they closed. “Can you hear me, Brother? I hope you can. I read your notes in your little book and I need to tell you that I love you too, Boy. I love having a little brother to work with and play with. You brought the joy in running the ranch back to me, Little Brother, and I don’t think I can do it without you anymore. Please wake up, Heath, you’ve just got to!” His eyes filled with tears and he bowed his head, the fear bringing a pain so deep he wondered if he could bear it. Please God- not again!

Part 12

It was getting along toward noon when Jarrod woke, and his first words, after he had checked his watch, were to Nick. “ Say, Nick my boy! I thought you were going to wake me in an hour? I didn’t plan to sleep so long!” He rubbed his eyes, trying to wake up. “I have a lot of work to do, and I’d better get to it.” With those words, he reached for his boots underneath the cot and pulled them on.

“Wait a minute, Jarrod! Don’t you want to read what Heath wrote you? Read it now- you’ve got that much time, and I need to go for a little walk, if you know what I mean.” Nick was anxious to get the reading out of the way, so Heath’s notebook could be put away in a safe place before something could happen to it. He didn’t want it just lying around where anyone could pick it up, and besides, it was too important to him to take any chances with. If Heath never woke up.... no, he wouldn’t even go there.

Jarrod could see Nick’s concern, so even though he wasn’t sure he was in the right frame of mind for this, he quickly assented. “Good thinking, Nicholas. Just give me a little time- fifteen or twenty minutes should do it. The work will keep- it’ll have to!” He took the small book offered and seated himself in the chair by Heath’s bed, waiting until Nick had left the room to open it, then began reading Heath’s daily entries before beginning his own message.

Jarrod knew his relationship with this younger brother was not the same as Nick’s, but as he read Heath’s words he felt a warmth flooding his soul. It touched his heart to know that this young man- this ‘new’ little brother- loved him, too, as well as Nick. He wondered if he’d always deserved Heath’s seemingly unqualified admiration. He doubted it; he could think of a time or two.... He couldn’t help but smile at Heath’s comment about protecting him from ‘Big, Bad, Nick!’ Well, that had certainly changed! And as for ‘lerned’ a lot from what Jarrod had ‘tought’ him, it led him to the conclusion that spelling was not one of those things he, Jarrod, had succeeded in teaching very well!

He prayed he would get a chance to tell this boy- for that was how he often thought of this youngest brother- what a pleasure it was to work with such a willing and intelligent pupil, and not a chore at all. For one who’d been so wrongfully deprived of formal education, Heath had nonetheless acquired an impressive store of knowledge and he was always eager to learn more, reading almost anything he could get his hands on and discussing new ideas avidly with his ‘teacher.’ How he loved to see him spread his wings! And, little brother, never doubt that you are Somebody- somebody very important to more people than you know!

He closed the book and sat for a few moments mulling over all that he had read, then rose and stood by Heath’s bed, just watching- watching for any little sign to show he was coming back to them, then giving him some more water. “Come on, little brother! We’re waiting!” He squeezed his shoulder gently, as he heard the sound of heavy footsteps and the jingle of spurs on the porch, then of the door opening. Nick, he thought, you aren’t the only one who loves this little brother.

“I’m back, Pappy! Did you get it read?” Nick had been gone almost half an hour, wanting to give Jarrod a little more time to absorb Heath’s words, whatever they might be, and compose himself if necessary. At Jarrod’s nod, he continued, “How about handin’ Heath’s notebook over and I’ll put it someplace safe.” He held out his hand, waiting for Jarrod to part with it.

Though this may have sounded like a question, Jarrod knew it wasn’t; it was a demand. Nick would be the keeper of this little book bearing these precious messages from their youngest brother. The thought crossed his mind: not from the grave, please God! He promptly handed the notebook over with a grimace. “Well, Nick, I’d really better get going if I’m going to help the Judge get this mess straightened out any time soon. He was coming back this morning, and he’s probably already here. Are you going to be able to stay awake? You’ve gone a long time without sleep, I’d say.”

“Don’t worry about me, Jarrod. The doc should be here pretty soon now, and I’ll catch a few winks after he checks Heath over and I see what he has to say. He’ll probably want to stay around awhile anyway, watch him for a bit. Maybe he’ll have some ideas on how to wake this boy up. Now go on, get outa here!” Nick made a shooing motion at Jarrod with his hand, then turned and went to Heath’s bedside, gazing wistfully at his silent brother. “Hey, little brother, it’s time you woke up! Daylight’s wastin’, ya know we’re never gonna get any work done this way!

Heath made no real response to Nick’s plea, but as earlier when Nick had spoken to him, he opened his eyes, his hands moving slightly. Nick leaned over, putting his face in Heath’s line of vision- what should be his line of vision, anyway, he reminded himself- then continued his gentle scolding, “Remember me? Nick, your big brother! Look at me, Boy! Come on, you can do it!” But Heath’s eyes closed and he was locked again into his silence.

It was only a short while later that the doctor- Nick had forgotten his name- had knocked quietly on the door, then entered the same way. He had checked Heath over, his stethoscope to his chest, listening carefully, then checking his pupils for any response, giving a small shake of the head in answer to the questioning look he received from Nick. After checking him over, he had removed the bandage from his leg, inspecting the injury thoroughly and, as before, carefully removing small bits of dead tissue from the burned area, then again applying the salve before rewrapping it loosely with a new dressing. With Nick’s help, he then checked Heath’s back and again applied the ointment, changing the pad underneath him in the process. He seemed cheered that the pad was wet, proof, he said, that Heath’s kidneys were working, apparently a welcome sign.

As Nick had assumed, he wanted to observe his patient for awhile, to see for himself if his level of consciousness had lightened at all. After a brief discussion of his findings, or rather lack of new ones, with Nick, the doctor sat down quietly in the chair by Heath’s bed, his gaze hardly straying from the still form on the bed. Contrary to Nick’s hopes, he had no magic tricks to wake their younger brother from his long sleep.

It was then that Nick finally lay down to try to sleep, discouragement weighing down his soul, with a request to the doctor to be roused if there was any change at all. In spite of his worry, his exhaustion was greater, and he soon slept as deeply and as noisily as his little brother had said he did. If he could have heard, Heath would have given his little ‘Told ya so!’ wink!

Part 13

It was late afternoon now, and this morning’s distant thunder had brought more than the promise of cooler weather. A brief, intense thunderstorm had brought with it a welcome rain shower that had not lasted long enough, but had served to cool the air to the extent that the temperature was now almost comfortable outside.

Nick had slept longer than he intended to, but the doctor had no urgent responsibilities at the moment, having already delivered yesterday’s patient of a fine healthy boy, so he had stayed longer just to give Nick a little more time to get caught up on his sleep. He could see that this young man was almost at the limit of his endurance, and he didn’t really need another patient to take care of, or so he told himself. Heath’s condition, consciousness-wise, was no different than when he’d first seen him, and he wished he could have found something to give some hope to these brothers who so obviously loved this boy. Well, it was in God’s hands now; he’d done all he could.

At noon, Jarrod had been in to check with the doctor on Heath’s condition, then sat with his little brother so the other man could go eat, while Nick slept on, never rousing. At last, Jarrod decided Nick had had enough sleep to tide him over for who knew how long- until Nick just couldn’t function anymore, he guessed. Besides, he needed to eat something; even Nick- especially Nick!- couldn’t go forever without fuel.

And so the rest of the day had slowly passed as they took turns tending the sleeping Heath, talking quietly to him as they cared for him. Nick was now the caretaker, the doctor having gone over to the infirmary to see to some of the prisoners who’d been neglected by the camp’s so-called doctor, and Jarrod back to the marshal’s quarters. It was time for ‘little brother’ to have some more water; the doctor had said they would try Heath on broth this evening, he needed some real nourishment now.

As he lifted Heath’s head and gave him the water, his eyes opened as they had several times when Nick had carried out this routine. Ever hopeful, Nick again spoke to him as if Heath could hear him and respond to him. “Hey, Little Brother, are ya in there? You know, it’s about time you woke up, don’t ya think? Come on, boy, I know you’re quiet, but don’t ya think this is carryin’ it a little too far?”

As usual, Nick had positioned himself in Heath’s line of sight, but Heath’s eyes had always gazed right through him. This time as Nick watched his brother’s face intently, he saw Heath’s eyes change from the blank stare he had been greeted with ever since he’d been in the coma to gradually focus on his big brother’s face. Nick’s heart was filled with thanksgiving, and he felt like shouting it to the rooftops! “Atta boy, Heath! Look at me! You see me, don’t ya?” He felt the tears running down his face, but he didn’t care; he didn’t even bother to wipe them as he gently but fiercely hugged his little brother to his heart. “You’re gonna be all right, Heath, you’re gonna be all right!” He felt his brother’s hands rise as he attempted to hug him back.

Nick heard the sound of footsteps on the porch and shouted out, “Jarrod! Come’ere! You gotta see this! He’s awake! Heath’s awake!” Nick’s voice broke, but he didn’t care. He didn’t think he’d ever been happier in his whole life. His little brother, his best friend, his partner wasn’t going to leave him to run the ranch alone after all! Thank you, God!

Jarrod hurried over to Heath’s bedside, his heart hammering. Could Nick be right, or was he just wishing? As Jarrod looked down at this youngest brother, Heath’s eyes slowly but surely switched focus to his older brother, and his hand moved a bit as if to reach out. Jarrod grasped that hand and squeezed gently, and he felt a weak response in return. Jarrod spoke through his own tears, “Well, Little Brother, it about time you decided to rejoin us! We’ve missed you, my boy!”

Nick’s voice rang out like the old Nick for the first time in days, “Jarrod, I’m goin’ over to the infirmary and tell the doc! He’s goin’ to want to see this boy! I know he won’t believe it! He just don’t know our little brother!” With those words, and a pat to Heath’s chest, he dashed from the room. Jarrod could hear him clear across the compound as he shouted the good news to anyone who could hear him- which probably included the whole compound, Jarrod thought with an elated smile. Well, such good news needed to be shared!

Part 14

For Heath, it seemed as though he had just awakened from a long and not too restful sleep. He knew his sleep must have been troubled because he felt so tired and nothing seemed to want to work right. Too, there seemed to be a long gap between the intention and the act in everything he did. But he had a sense of peace, of knowing that somehow everything would be all right. Heath had felt his brothers’ presence long before he was fully awake. He knew he was safe- Nick, too. Nick was his rock and Jarrod had finally come; was there anything his two big brothers together could not handle?

The evening had flown by, such a joyous evening that, after these last fearful days, it seemed almost a dream. In spite of the doctor’s caution that Heath might have suffered brain damage from his long sojourn in the sweat box and the resultant seizure, he had rapidly set out to prove all their fears ungrounded, it seemed. By nightfall, Heath was alert and making sense, and if he seemed to take a bit more time to respond they laid it to illness rather than brain damage. He was still running a fever from the infected burn and was weak from the trauma he’d endured and the lack of food, but nothing to worry about, the doctor assured his brothers. Although the pain from his back and his burned leg was intense, the doctor had given him laudanum which kept him reasonably comfortable. The physician reassured them that Heath was basically a strong young man and with some good food and a few days rest he’d soon have his strength back.

It was now morning after a night in which all of them had actually gotten some sleep, Heath’s in part due to the laudanum left for his brothers to administer, as the burn and his back would continue to be painful for quite some time, according to the doctor. His fever seemed to be gone, or almost, this morning and Heath was propped up in bed in a nest of pillows, ready to try some oatmeal that Nick was preparing to feed him, much to his annoyance- but his hand had shaken so badly he couldn’t control the spoon. He’d tried. “Nick, would ya just hurry up? I’m so hungry I could even eat your cookin’, but I have to say I’m glad I don’t have to! Even oatmeal’s better’n that!” Whatever hesitation in speaking he’d shown last night was gone this morning, and Nick’s heart rejoiced, even as he teased him with a bite that he quickly withdrew.

“Mmm mmm! Don’t that look good! Maybe I should just sample it to see if it’s good enough for my little brother!” He put the bite up toward his own mouth, then, laughing, redirected it to Heath’s, proceeding to feed the scowling blond the small amount of cereal the doctor had allowed him for now, his first solid food since before he’d been put in the sweat box.

Jarrod, watching this little by-play between his brothers, saw the eager way his youngest brother slicked up the oatmeal in spite of his complaints, and the identical looks of regret on both brothers’ faces when Nick reached the bottom of the bowl all too soon. Regret on Heath’s part, Jarrod was sure, because he must still be very hungry, and on Nick’s because he, who would give this beloved little brother the moon if that were possible- and he wanted it- was now forced to deny him what he so obviously needed. Still, Jarrod felt a load lifted from his heart. All was right with the world again- or soon would be!

Heath was still too weak from his long ordeal to stand by himself, but with Nick’s and Jarrod’s help he stood and even walked a little, an arm over each brothers’ shoulders, before being helped back to bed. The doctor had stated that this was essential to help the young man recover his strength and to lessen the possibility of Heath developing pneumonia. After all this exertion, Heath had fallen asleep almost immediately, after heaving a grateful sigh at being back in bed. It was apparent that it would be several days before he was strong enough to attempt the journey home.

The next few days passed in much the same fashion, with Heath growing stronger and more cantankerous by the day, at least from his brothers’ viewpoint. He was able to take care of his personal needs by himself now, much to everyone’s relief, but still had little endurance, another frustration he was inclined to take out on his brothers- particularly Nick. No, Little Brother was not a good patient! Fortunately for them all, he still slept a good share of the time, thanks in part to the laudanum he was still receiving, which greatly eased his- and his brothers’- pain.

Heath seemed to be sleeping peacefully as Nick looked over at him now. He had finished eating a short while ago after being up for awhile and walking around as per the doctor’s orders, and as the doctor had predicted, his strength was increasing every day. But being Heath, he was of course not content to just do what he was supposed to, but always had to go a little beyond what he was really capable of physically. Nick shook his head in resignation. This boy was going to make an old man of him, yet!

Turning to Jarrod with a worried look, Nick confided, “You know, Jarrod, Heath hasn’t said word one about any of this.” He waved his arm in an all encompassing gesture, “I hope it’s ‘cause he doesn’t remember much, but it worries me. And he’s been havin’ some bad dreams, I think, but he always denies it. What if he’s just buryin’ it all inside, you know how he does sometimes? That can’t be good.”

“I’ve been concerned about that, too, Nick. I’ve been thinking about it quite a bit, as a matter of fact, and I believe we need to talk to Dr. Benton and see if he’s had any experience with that sort of thing. We don’t want to pressure Heath before he’s ready, I do know that much.” Jarrod sounded as worried as Nick felt.

Jarrod paused for a moment, then continued in a different vein, “By the way, Nick, did I tell you I’d solved the great boot mystery? You know, how Heath’s notebook could stay in his boot with all the shuffling around it must have taken? This morning I bumped into the marshal who was in charge of cleaning up after us that night, and he asked me if we’d found the little book he’d put in Heath’s boot for safekeeping. Said he forgot all about it, and seeing me reminded him he’d forgotten to mention it to anyone when he found it under the cot. He apologized and said he hoped it wasn’t a problem. I assured him his conscientiousness was much appreciated ”

Nick reached up and removed the notebook from his breast pocket where he’d kept it ever since that day they’d found it and read it, gazing at the little book with his name sprawling haphazardly across the cover. “You know, Jarrod, I don’t plan on givin’ this back to Heath, even if he asks for it. I figure it’s mine now, it’s got my name on it, so I’m goin’ to consider it a gift. And it is a gift, isn’t it, to know how our little brother feels about us? At least I’d call my notes a pretty special gift!”

“Yes, Nick, definitely a very special gift!” Jarrod replied thoughtfully, but ever the lawyer, added, “However, I’m not sure having your name on the cover would make it legally yours if Heath should decide to contest it in a court of law. And what about my note? Are you planning on keeping that, too? Maybe you need to rethink this, Brother Nick.”

“Hmm? I can see this is goin’ to be a problem. And I’ll bet Mother and Audra would like to have their notes, too, even though they haven’t had a chance to see ‘em yet. Much as I hate to admit it, you’re right, Jarrod! Guess I’ll have to think about this some more.” He carefully tucked the little book into its new home, afterwards feeling his pocket to be sure it was secure.

Several times during the next day as Heath rested and got his strength back, Nick thought about the notebook and his and Jarrod’s discussion. He remembered his promise to himself- that he would make sure his little brother knew how much he meant to him and how much his coming to the ranch had changed his, Nick’s, life for the better. Somehow. But he was having a hard time figuring out how to go about it. He didn’t want to embarrass Heath- or himself- so it had to be sorta low key. There must be some way, he thought ruefully. But it turned out to be easier than he’d thought.

Part 15

Heath roused from another long nap, yawned and stretched, the pain in his leg jerking him awake with a start. Opening his eyes, he saw Nick is his usual spot; sitting in the comfortable chair by his bed, boots- minus spurs- up on a bench. He’d gotten them back, the spurs, but left them off at the doctor’s request, so they wouldn’t disturb his patient’s slumber. If he’d only known, those spurs were music to Heath’s ears and would probably have had exactly the opposite effect. The chair had been brought downstairs from Risley’s room, so he’d been told. Nick was leaning back comfortably, eyes closed and snoring softly. He couldn’t help but smile; Nick always insisted that he didn’t snore and he always snored- just not so loudly, sometimes.

As his gaze rested affectionately on his big brother, Heath noticed the little book peaking out of his shirt pocket. Hmm? That was strange. Nick didn’t usually carry one, depending on Heath to jot down anything important in his, since he always carried it with him. He hadn’t even thought about his notebook ‘til now, but he knew this must be his. As he watched, Nick gave a couple of snorts and startled himself awake.

“Hey, Big Brother! What are ya doin’ sleepin’ on the job? Didn’t I hear you tell Jarrod you were gonna keep an eye on me? Hmph! Some watchdog you turned out to be!” Heath’s eyes were alight with the old mischief, and Nick’s heart soared- his ‘boy’ was back! “Now that you’re awake, Brother, how about earnin’ your keep an’ gettin’ me some water?”

“Kinda bossy there, aren’t you, Boy? I could just tell you to get up and get it yourself, ya know? But I’m such a nice big brother that I’ll be glad to get my poor, sick, spoiled little brother a drink so he won’t have to stir his lazy bones for awhile.” In truth, Nick was glad that Heath was in no hurry to get out of bed. He figured now might be a good time to talk to him about what had been weighing heavily on his mind lately. With that he proceeded to get Heath’s water and help him prop himself up so he could drink it without spilling.

As Nick sat back down, he wondered how to start, but Heath beat him to it.

“Say Nick, that must be my notebook you’ got there in your pocket. It sure looks like it. I know I had it before..... well, you know.” Heath’s voice roughened, but he cleared his throat and continued, “Do ya want to hand it over?” He held out his hand for the little book.

It was not really a question, and Nick understood that perfectly, but it seemed to him to be the perfect lead-in to what he’d been struggling all day to say. “As a matter of fact, Little Brother, I don’t! You see, I was plannin’ to keep it! Somebody very special gave this to me.” He pulled the small book out of his pocket. “See, that’s my name right there on the cover, in big letters, so I figure this very special person wanted me to have it.” He looked Heath in the eye, waiting for his response as he tucked the book back into its new home.

“Look, Nick, I know I wrote your name on the front, but that was before.... You know, just in case... somethin’ happened. I just thought if it did.... well... I wanted you all to know.... “ He stopped abruptly. “You didn’t read it, did ya, Nick?”

“Yep, sure did! Just the daily entries, and the ones with my name on ‘em, ‘course. And it sure made me feel good to know that my little brother thought I was a great guy, and a lot of other things that I probably can’t ever live up to! Jarrod read his note, too. and I know for a fact that he felt the same way.” He stopped, waiting for Heath’s reaction.

“What made ya think it was al’right ta read it without askin’ me, Nick?” Heath’s face was flushed, Nick didn’t know whether from anger or embarrassment. “I didn’t plan on anybody readin’ it... unless..... well... you know.” he said again.

“Well, Boy, I couldn’t hardly ask you, now could I? You were in a coma! And since my name was on the cover.... Look, Heath, I like knowin’ my little brother loves me, and I hope you know I love you too, Little Brother, even if I never said it right out, and I’m sorry I didn’t ever tell ya so.” Nick was having trouble getting the words out, but he had promised himself he would. He needed to say them, and Heath needed to hear them. As he got ready to complete his self imposed task, Heath’s voice cut him off.

“What d’ya mean you never told me? You must have a pretty short memory, Big Brother. Or maybe you’ been out in the sun too long!” Heath’s voice echoed his bewilderment. “ Ya told me all this just a little while ago, and while I really don’t mind too much hearin’ ya say it again, it’s not like I haven’t heard it before. And about how my comin’ made runnin’ the ranch fun again- a joy, I think ya said- and how ya loved havin’ a little brother by yer side to work and play with.”

Nick looked at Heath with shock. How could this be? As unbelievable as it sounded, Heath could only have heard Nick say those things while he was in the coma. But the doctor had told them their brother was not aware of anything! He didn’t know what to think, but he was glad Heath knew his feelings, anyway. “I don’t know what to say, Brother! I did say all those things, but you were in the coma when I said ‘em. That doc is gonna want ta talk to you, for sure!

“Look, Nick, it’s not like ya had ta tell me, anyway! I mean I already knew all that even if ya didn’t ever say it right out.” Heath’s flush was back, and it was obvious to Nick that he was struggling against his discomfort.

“You know, Boy, you sure are a hard man to get through to! Did it ever occur to you that I might want to tell ya? I mean, we’re brothers, for God’s sake! And if a man can’t tell his little brother that he loves him and he’s glad he came, then it’s a sad world.”

“All right, Nick! I hear ya!” Warmed by his brother’s words but flustered, Heath returned to the subject at hand- the notebook. He held out his hand with a determined look at his brother. ‘That book’s mine and I want it back!”

“Now just hold on a minute, Heath! Just hear me out, all right?” He paused to think how he wanted to say this. “You see, it really made me feel good when I read how you felt about me, and like I told ya, Jarrod felt the same way. You know, you don’t say too much about how you feel about things, Boy, and sometimes- lots of times- we just have to guess. Now I’m guessing- just guessin’, mind ya- that you’d never say those things outloud to anybody. Not even Mother and Audra?” His voice ended on a questioning note.

“What’s all that got to do with my book, Nick?” Heath gestured to his notebook, still in Nick’s pocket. “I don’t see what you’re gettin’ at. Why don’t ya just tell me straight out, without all this.... whatever?

“Well, Little Brother, now I don’t know what you wrote to Mother and Audra, ‘cause that was private and I didn’t read it, but I do know that if it was anything like what ya wrote to me then I think they’d like to read theirs, too. And it doesn’t seem hardly fair that Jarrod and I got to read ours and they don’t.” Nick’s voice was sincere, a frown darkening his face as he focused on getting his point across to his stubborn brother.

“So tell me, Boy- is what you wrote something you’d like Mother and Audra to know- you know, something you’d like to tell ‘em- if you could, I mean? Cause if it is, then maybe you should think about letting me keep this notebook and I’ll see to it that they get a chance to read their notes later... in private.” He looked questioningly at his younger brother.

Heath didn’t say anything, being Heath; he just listened thoughtfully to what Nick had to say. Now that he was really listening, he could almost see his point. Wouldn’t he like to tell his ‘Mother’- this wonderful, loving woman who’d taken him in and given him a home and everything that went with it- how much she meant to him? All the things he loved her for? Could he ever actually say those words to her, words he longed to say? And Audra...? Nick was right. He could never say them- not yet, anyway. But maybe someday....

While Heath was mulling over Nick’s words, Nick continued. “Heath, there’s another reason I’d like to hang on to your notebook, and that’s because our brother the lawyer said it might be useful as evidence when it comes to Risley’s trial. Seems that things like diaries and journals and such can serve as corroborating evidence in a trial. You know, just one more nail in Risley’s coffin. There’s one entry in particular he thinks could be useful- the one about the bull, because it has names and dates, and so forth, and backs up our claim.” He hesitated, then went on, “Now I know you can keep track of it just as well as I can, but Jarrod asked me to take care of it, if it’s all right with you, since you’re not really feelin’ up to snuff, yet.” With a wicked smile, he added, gesturing to Heath’s bare torso. “And besides, it’s not like ya had a pocket to put it in at the moment!”

At Nick’s words, Heath gave his brother his little crooked grin. “I’ll have to think on it, Big Brother, but you do have a point! I guess you can hang on to it for now, anyway.”

Part 16

“Speakin’ of Risley,” Nick’s tone was tentative, as he fingered the small book in his pocket. “Jarrod’s gonna wanta ask you some questions about what all happened here in Risley’s private little hell. Do you think you’re up to talkin’ to him about it? I mean, you don’t have to do it right this minute, but soon? He’d like to get your statement out of the way before we head for home. I gave him mine earlier today.”

“Yeah, might as well get it over with, I guess,” Heath hesitantly agreed, as a cold chill seemed to sweep through him. “Don’t reckon our brother the lawyer,” he echoed Nick’s words, “is gonna be satisfied ‘til he gets it.”

“OK, Brother, I’ll let him know you’re ready next time I see him.” Jarrod was still tied up a good share of the time with the marshals and the Judge, who came and went as his duties allowed. In spite of that, the lawyer spent all the time he could with his brothers- especially his youngest brother, who’s well-being had been a constant source of concern to him during this trying time.

Jarrod’s opportunity to talk with Heath came that same evening, and this he proceeded to do while Nick went over to the hut to fill Billy and Lobo and the other prisoners in on what was happening with Risley and the marshals, and what it might mean for them. Nick lingered longer than he might have, relishing the cooler evening air outside while he gave Jarrod the time he needed.

As he went through these motions, his mind was with his little brother and worry about how having to bring these recent, traumatic memories to the fore could affect Heath. His younger brother had already had too many bad memories in his lifetime, and Nick of all people knew how his past had marked him; he’d been privy to too many of his little brother’s nightmares, especially in the early days of Heath’s arrival. This boy didn’t need any more.

When Nick decided a sufficient time had elapsed, he returned to their temporary quarters, opening the door quietly in case Heath was sleeping, a precaution that proved to be well taken as he was greeted by the blond’s gentle snores; though not usually a snorer, the medicine always seemed to affect Heath that way. “Jarrod,” Nick kept his voice low, “did you get what you wanted?”

“Yes, Brother Nick, I have Heath’s statement right here.” He gestured with the papers in his hand.. “I hope it wasn’t a mistake to do this right now; maybe I should have waited a little while.” Jarrod’s voice was worried and unsure, not the lawyer’s usual confident tone at all. His face reflected that unease as he carefully tucked the document away in his saddlebag.

“How much does he remember, Jarrod- all of it?” Nick felt a sense of dread as he studied his older brother’s face. “God, I hope not! Not bein’ in that box, anyway!” As he thought of the anguish and fear his brother might have suffered alone in that death trap, Nick felt a sickness wash over him. His little brother had already had more than his share of pain....why him?

“I’m afraid so, Nick, and before you ask- No, he didn’t say anything at all about his time in that box. I doubt that he ever will, and that may be a problem, one we’ll just have to deal with when and if that time comes. You remember we talked about this, and I’ve discussed the possibility with the doctor.” Jarrod added with a brighter look, “While Dr. Benton himself doesn’t have much of a background in that kind of thing he has a colleague who’s had some experience with *Soldier’s Heart, as the doctors are calling it, during the war, and he’s offered to get in touch with him if we need him. Wonder of wonders, the man’s practicing in San Francisco, so if at some time we feel Heath could use some help he’ll be available. It seems our good doctor has taken a personal interest in this young man,” gesturing with a smile toward the sleeping Heath.

“Oh, by the way, Nick, I have to go into town tonight, now that this boy’s feeling better, and I’ll stay the night in town since it’ll probably be late when I get done. I’ve been putting it off, but I need to send some wires, then I’m meeting with the Judge and the Prison Commission. It’s about time they were called into account for their actions- or rather lack of action- don’t you think?”

Jarrod was wearing his Lawyer face now, and Nick knew heads were going to roll if Jarrod had his way about it; and knowing his big brother, he had no doubt Jarrod would have his way. He almost always did, in the end. “Go get ‘em, Lawyer Man! My money’s on you! I’ll hold down the fort here. Looks like it’ll be tough job.” With a smile, he motioned to their supine brother, who seemed to be sleeping soundly. “You’re going to wire Mother and Audra, too-- right? Tell ‘em he’s gonna be just fine.”

Although Jarrod hadn’t consulted his brothers, he was also seizing this opportunity to purchase train tickets for all of them and make arrangements for loading the horses. When the marshals had arrested the sheriff earlier, one of his deputies had revealed the location of the Barkley horses and he would retrieve Coco and Charger and bring them back to the camp with him when he returned.

The doctor had informed him that the train stopped for water at a small station about a half-hour’s easy ride from the camp and took on any passengers who wanted to board. It was his suggestion that they take Heath home by train; it would be much easier on his still recovering patient, whom he felt confident could make that short horseback ride. The long train ride home in a sleeper car would give him a chance to further recuperate and shouldn’t compromise his recovery, the doctor opined. Jarrod agreed wholeheartedly, and was anxious to set the plan in motion. He could hardly wait to spring it on his brothers.

*Civil War term for traumatic stress

Part 17

Heath stretched drowsily, feeling a twinge as his leg reminded him not to move too quickly. He didn’t know how long he’d been asleep, but he knew it had been awhile. It was dark outside now, with the only light a lamp turned low, casting the room and the sleepers into deep shadow. The sound of Nick’s quiet snores was a familiar melody- one that just a few days ago he had feared he might never hear again. As he listened to his brother sleep, he felt a warmth filling his heart and he replayed this afternoon’s conversation in his mind. He’d known his big brother cared- as he’d told Nick, he didn’t have to say it....but still.... He had to admit to himself that Nick was right- sometimes you just needed to say the words.... and he couldn’t deny hearin’ ‘em was kinda nice, too. Hadn’t he felt it was important enough to risk just about anything to leave those messages of love for Nick, for his family.... just in case?

And earlier this evening, when he and Jarrod had talked, hadn’t Jarrod said practically the same thing about that as Nick, just in different words? It was the first time they’d had the chance to really talk since he’d awakened from the coma, and Heath still felt a glow remembering Jarrod telling him how proud he was of him for working so hard to catch up on his lerning, even though, he’d teased, he obviously hadn’t learned to spell it yet! He couldn’t help but smile when he thought of Jarrod’s next comment, delivered with a wry smile and a twinkle in his eye, that he was glad he was the older big brother because that gave him not only the privilege but the duty of imparting these little pearls of wisdom into their youngest brother’s tender ears! As his smile faded, Heath thought of the father he’d never known and he wondered if Tom Barkley could have been half as good a ‘father’ as he was finding his oldest brother to be.

He yawned as he felt sleep creeping over him again, his thoughts returning to the words he’d written in his little book. Maybe Nick was right-- maybe he should let him keep the notebook and let Mother and Audra read their messages. Maybe Mother could put his little book someplace for safekeeping.... later. Heath yawned again. He could hardly remember the last time he’d felt so peaceful, so relaxed. The pain was still there, but not an active presence now. He didn’t know if it was the medicine or just his body telling him to rest, but he willingly gave in to slumber once more.

It was much later when Nick was torn from a deep sleep by his younger brother’s frantic cries, adrenaline pumping through his bloodstream as he was violently awakened

“Nooo!... Niiiiick!” Heath sat bolt upright, his heart pounding and his face bathed in cold sweat, his pulse racing in sheer terror. As he tried to scramble out of bed, mind still trapped in his nightmare, he twisted his burned leg, crying out in pain and crumpling to the floor where he curled into a ball and lay shuddering, calling Nick’s name again and again.

Nick was off his cot and at his brother’s side almost before he had his eyes open, his heart keeping time with his younger brother’s. “It’s all right, Heath! It’s all right! It’s just a bad dream. Wake up, boy. Wake up, Heath!” He scooped up the terrified blond, cradling him in his arms where he held him fiercely, murmuring reassuringly into his ear, “It’s all right,

Little Brother, you’re safe! I’ got ya. I won’t let anyone hurt you! It’s all over, Boy!

The nightmare slowly released it hold and Heath’s mind struggled back to reality. His heart was jumping out of his chest and he was wringing wet with sweat, shivers wracking his body. He realized that he was on the floor and Nick was hugging him tightly, rocking him in his arms and crooning in his ear. He grabbed Nick’s arm in a death grip, shuddering, “Nick... ya al’right? I thought.... dreamed... I... I dunno... but...” his voice seemed to give out, and he shivered again, curling even tighter into his big brother’s arms, breath coming in gradually slowing pants.

“Easy, Heath! Easy! It’s all right now... just a bad dream.” As Heath relaxed in Nick’s arms, Nick’s heart rate slowed and he drew in a deep breath of relief. “Hey, Little Brother, you know you just about gave me a heart attack! I’m gettin’ too old for this kinda thing!” Nick eased his grip on his brother as Heath attempted to sit up, but still did not release him from his embrace.

Heath now was wide awake and aware of what had happened, gaze flitting to Nick’s face only inches from his own. “Ya know, Big Brother, this is gettin’ to be a habit, seems like. You can let go now- I’m all right.” He sat up, but he made no effort to free himself from Nick’s arms, instead content to feel the tangible evidence of his brother’s love and support.

“Yeah, I know you are, Heath. You’re just fine- and you’re gonna be fine. We’ll see to that!” Nick’s voice, filled with love and concern, was the one that made Heath feel warm all over. He slowly continued, “You know, Little Brother, you aren’t alone anymore, and you need to let me-us, your family- help you when ya’ got troubles. Not that I think these bad dreams are goin’ to be a big problem. It’s just gonna take a little while to get all this outa your head.” His arm tightened around Heath in a reassuring hug, then he patted him on the head and ruffled his hair as he stood, reaching a hand down to pull him to his feet and sitting.him down on the bed.

“Ya know, Nick, I think you’ might be right- I mean about it just taking awhile to get it outa my head. When I first come to the ranch I was havin’ bad dreams pretty regular... ‘member? You got the benefit of most of ‘em, I’d say!” Heath gave Nick his crooked grin, “But that was a long time ago... right before that big cattle drive south, as I recall- must be gettin’ along toward a year-an’a-half now- and I haven’t had a bad one for a long time. ‘Til now, that is. But I feel different now. Then I was... well... all alone and mad at the whole world, mostly. Bet that’s a surprise!”

Nick just grinned. He didn’t want to interrupt this boy’s flow of words; it was so seldom the quiet blond was willing to share his thoughts and emotions that he treasured every one. He was still discovering hidden facets of this new brother even after all this time, he realized with a sense of wonder.

“Anyway, what I mean to say is that now I know I’ got a family that loves me- well most of the time, anyway! We have had our moments, haven’t we, Big Brother! But I know if I’m ever in trouble I’ got people I can count on to get me out. Just like you got me out of that box. Like I said, if you couldn’t do it no one could, but I knew you’d never stop tryin’, even if they killed ya for it. You said your life’s better since I came- well I don’t think I even have to tell ya how much better my life is since I’ been at the ranch- and been your brother. ‘Specially bein’ your brother!

“We’ll be going home pretty soon, Boy, and I want you to remember all that. No hidin’ bad dreams and such from me, Little Brother. You don’t have to tell anyone else if you don’t want to- just me. And I want your word on that, Heath!” Nick looked his brother in the eye, his whole demeanor suddenly challenging. “Swear it!”

“All right, al’right, Nick! Ya don’t need to get so riled up about it.” Heath leveled his gaze at his brother in return, “I promise to talk to ya Nick, if I need to. Satisfied?”

“No! That’s not what I said, Heath, and I think you know it. Wanta try again?”

“Boy Howdy, Nick, you are a regular mule, ya know that? OK, How about this? I promise to tell my big brother Nicholas J. Barkley if I so much as have one little tiny bad dream. There! D’ya want me to put it in writin’?”

“Think you’re smart, don’t you, Boy! I’d say it's about time we took you home. Maybe Mother can do something with ya!”

Jarrod came back to the camp and into their quarters very early the next morning, so early both his brothers were still sleeping. In a very un-Jarrodlike gesture he threw open the door, his voice echoing through the quiet room. “Wake up, you sleepyheads! Rise and shine!” His voice rang out with joy, “We’ve got a big day ahead of us! We’re going home! Finally!

THE END