Continental Cowboy

Chapters 1-15

by Catgirl63

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.

Chapter 1

Cool eyes surveyed himself in the mirror, his hands tying the cloth around his thick neck without so much as a conscience thought of movement. The bruise on the side of his face where he’d come into contact with a fence after being thrown from the back of a mean spirited bronc had changed over the past days, left behind by the evidence of it’s faded shadow of yellow.

The world outside the window of his hotel room was still slumbering away, the sun was still struggling to bring the dawn of the morning into existence. Opening his long black suit coat, he thrust the small pistol into his shoulder holster locking it in place with the leather strap. Glancing down, he pulled his colt from it’s holster and check the cylinder, strong fingers testing its fluency with a quick turn before flipping the piece of metal back in its place. Sliding the pistol into it’s leather holder tied against his black suit pants, he glanced around the room before picking up his saddle bags, holding his rifle in his left hand and grabbing his black hat.

Opening the door, he greeted the man who appeared in the hallway from another room with a quick nod before following the short barrel chested bald man down the steps, neither speaking as they settled their bill with the hotel clerk. Stopping on the boardwalk the two silent men walked together, their boots sounding out in the quiet town. The crowing of a rooster from somewhere amongst the buildings demanded everyone notice and take heed of his morning alarm.

The depot of the train station lay at the edge of town but as one both men moved towards the livery. The liveryman handed over the reins of each man’s prospective horse, smiling widely before speaking.

“That was quite the ride yesterday, Mr. Thomson. I thought fer sure Cyclone was gonna drive ya into the ground.”

A brief smile flitted about the thin lips of the blond and he spoke quietly while adjusting the girth about his modoc’s belly, “You weren’t the only one, Mr. Tanner. He was sure a mean one.”

“I ain’t never seen a man who handled him like you. No siree.” assured the liveryman, his gray head nodded several times. “Never in all my born days. You sure are a natural!”

Snorting in disgust, the shorter man mimicked the praise given to the taller man and scowled, “You know I’m kinda sick of hanging around you Thomson. All I ever hear is Thomson this and Thomson that!”

Chuckling softly at the morning gruffness, Heath winked at the liveryman before leading his horse out of the stable, “Don’t mind him Mr. Tanner, he’s just jealous cause he couldn’t even stay in the saddle for two seconds. Ain’t that right Jacks?”

“Jealous?” repeated the man loudly to the blond’s departing back. “In your dreams!”

Laughing outright at the indignation in the shouted voice, Heath smirked at the continued grumbling as they made their way to the rail station. The apprehension over heading to Stockton today springing up the night before disappeared with the light of the morning. The unexpected uneasiness and indecision were gone with the realization of all that was at stake. Tying the reins of his modoc to the rail, the blond greeted several other men who stood around waiting for the morning train, his eyes studying them from under his hat as he brushed at the imaginary dirt on the front of his coat.

“Hey Continental!” called one of the men waving him over after he looked up at the nickname.

The gang surrounding the large man parted allowing the muscular blond to pass without straying from a straight line. His eyes showed no friendliness and no hatred, they were impassive and cool.

“Turk, how’s your backside this morning?” asked the blond with an air of innocence.

The larger man stood from the crate he’d sat on, the wood seemingly groaning as the weight was taken off it’s stressed form. Reaching over with a large paw, the bigger man clapped the blond on the back, causing him to move forward only a fraction of an inch and boomed with laughter.

“Damn Con, if it were anyone else taking such a dig at me, I’d break them in two.” threatened the giant with a fierce growl. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Grinning, the blond shrugged, “What makes you think I’d let you break me in two?”

“For a citified dude, you’re dangerously stupid.” smirked Turk, keeping his green eyes on the blond, studying the newest member to the rodeo circuit, gauging the younger man as he had since he’d first shown up four months ago.

“Now Turk, who said I was citified?” queried Heath with a lop sided grin, knowing it was just another way the man they suspected as a ringleader would again be testing him, the innate distrust in the large man made it difficult to get close to him. “Just cause I like to dress better to impress the ladies, doesn’t mean I’m citified. It just means I’m smart enough to figure out what makes all those women willing to hike up their skirts. Want me to pick out a new outfit for you?”

The others around them broke out in chuckles and smirks at the red flush creeping up on Turk’s face, his green eyes widening in indignation before his cruel face light up with amusement.

“I might let you stay around awhile Continental.” said Turk with a nod before turning to view the train whistling it’s approach and glancing over to the blond, stopping his movement to his horse with a large paw on his coat sleeve. “You’re a puzzlement. I like puzzles.”

Smirking despite the chill settling into his stomach at the threatening undertone in the words, Heath replied, “Well, I’ll certainly try to keep you guessing Turk. Keeps me winning on the circuit by giving me an edge and keeping you off balance.”

“You do that Con, you do that.” encouraged large man with an evil smile before he and his men headed to their horses.

Turning on his heels, Heath met the curious eyes of Jacks as he untied the reins and shrugged, “Ready for the next stop, Jacks?”

“Watch yourself Thomson.” warned the short man under his breath. “Turk’s the kind of man we could all do without.”

“What do you mean?” whispered Heath.

“Nothing.” mumbled Jacks, suddenly his burst of courage gone over his worry of the blond’s growing association with Turks. “Nothing. I don’t mean nothing by it.”

Chapter 2

The train pulled out leaving the town of Martinez and its citizens behind. Moving to the front of the car, Heath settled his body onto a seat, stretching his legs out before him and moved his hat forward to cover his eyes while he slumped his left shoulder against the window’s frame. Letting out a slow breath, the blond allowed himself to relax but kept his ears open, taking in the conversations floating on the air inside the rail car after he crossed his arms over his chest.

Jacks sat two rows over with a clear view of the blond who seemed to be asleep and unaware of everything around him. Somehow, the bald man instinctively knew he wouldn’t wager a plug nickel on that being true. Like Turk the confident sure blond was a puzzlement to the smaller man who’d been on one rodeo circuit or another for nearly nine years now.

Sure, Thomson was a great competitor and came out a winner more than some of the others but it was if he didn’t fit with the men around him. Almost as if the circuit was a shirt he was wearing because he had to and it was a size too small. The bald man found himself wondering if this life the blond was living, moving from town to town, gambling on his strength and quickness against the broncs and bulls was what he truly was comfortable doing. He didn’t wear it like a second skin as the rest of them….more like it was a coat he was simply donning to keep the bite in the air out. A temporary situation.

Frowning and turning to look out the window nearest him, the bald man watched the landscape rolling by as the train moved, the car swaying gently on the rails. The morning sun had risen and cast it’s golden hues over the land, sending a promise of another day of glorious temperatures. He became lost in his thoughts until a hand found his shoulder and he looked up.

“Jacks, wanna git in on a poker game in the smokin’ car?”

Shaking his head, Jacks smirked, “With what? My good looks, Turk? You and Thomson were the big winners yesterday. I gotta make sure I have enough for the entries in Stockton.”

Chuckling, the green eyes flashed with amusement and Turk nodded, “You turns coming Jacks. If you need something to tide you over, just let me know. I wouldn’t want you to have to get a real job now.”

“Thanks but I should be okay, especially since I’m gonna be taking the big money this week.” chided Jacks with a wide grin.

“I hope you do.” replied Turk with a quick nod before glancing over at the sleeping blond and heading that way. Slapping one of the boots resting on the seat across from his greatest competitor on the circuit, Turk waited for the slow rising hand to push back the brim of the black hat. “Boys got some pigeons lined up for a shake down in poker, you game Con?”

“Poker?” repeated Heath into the green eyes. “Ain’t had a good challenge at poker in a long time.”

“We just played last night.” growled Turk. “You talking about me not being a challenge?”

“Now, would I do that?” asked the blond innocently as he stood, his body dwarfed by the larger man as he met the green eyes calmly.

“You would and you’d just better put your money where your mouth is.” stated Turk with a jab into the shoulder of the smaller man. “I’m gonna clean out that wallet of yours Continental before we get to Stockton.”

Smiling, Heath pointed for the larger man to lead the way, “Now Turk, that I have to see.”

“Oh, don’t worry you will.” retorted Turk over his shoulder as he lead the way down the aisle and to the back of the passenger car, opening the door and allowing the fresh air of the outside to enter. Heath nodded at Jacks on the way past, meeting the bald man’s worried eyes with a wink and a lop-sided grin.

Jacks turned and watched the back of the blond disappear into the next car before shaking his head, wondering if the younger man knew what he was getting into and mentally speculating on what would happen when Turk stopped finding the newcomer a challenge.

Heath nodded to the others of the rodeo circuit standing in the car, smoking and drinking from crystal tumblers as he played follow the leader with Turk. The air in the car was thick with a film of blue haze and the area was deafening with the sounds of male voices. The temperature in the car was hot and stifling from all the body heat being generated. Turk greeted the men at the table and pulled out a chair, pointing to the empty spot across the table.

“Sit there, Continental.” instructed the large man reaching in and pulling out his store of cash. “Gentlemen, the city dude here fancies himself a right smart poker player.”

Chuckling, Heath pulled out the empty chair before taking off his suit coat, draping it over the back of his seat and revealing his shoulder holster before taking his wallet out of the inside pocket.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen such a holster before.” admitted a deep voice.

Turning to look into the curious light blue eyes of the dark haired man across from him, Heath took his seat and nodded, “Comes in right handy sometimes, Mr…”

“Barkley. Jarrod Barkley.” informed the dark haired man with a small smile, slowly reaching across the table with an offer of his hand.

“Heath Thomson.” stated the blond keeping his face impassive and clasping the hand in a quick shake. Looking at the others around the table, the blond could feel the eyes of his half-brother on him as the other introductions were made.

Realizing he’d been caught staring at the blond across from him by the giant who brought him to the table and now was watching intently, Jarrod frowned as in deep thought, “Sorry about staring but I feel as if we may have met previously, Mr. Thomson. Have you been to Stockton before?”

“Once a couple years back. It weren’t nothing much to talk about.” stated Heath coolly into the light blue eyes before smirking at Turk. “Course all the ladies say I have the kind of face a person never forgets. Ain’t that right, Turk?”

“Thomson, shut up and ante.” ordered the large man as he laid out the rules to the game and shuffled the cards. The anticipation of matching skills in the poker game overriding his curiosity over the meeting of the two men sitting across from each other.

Chapter 3

The desire to escape the exhaustion of his most recent court case had Jarrod Barkley at the last moment meeting the morning train departing to Stockton from San Francisco. The grueling schedule of the past three months of preparation and late sleepless nights had finally caught up to the first son of the Barkley family. Leaving San Francisco, he allowed sleep to overtake him and enjoyed the blissful darkness as the consistent humming of the rails lulled him further into sleep in the near empty smoking car.

The change in the rhythm of the car and the sound of the released steam woke him from his dream. Sitting up, the attorney stretched his arms, feeling strongly invigorated from his early morning nap. Glancing out the window to the group of men leading their horses to the livestock car, Jarrod turned and greeted the man who appeared with a cup of coffee.

“Thanks, John.” sighed Jarrod with a grateful smile. “This’ll hit the spot.”

Nodding the gray haired man looked at the men outside as he spoke, “We haven’t seen you on this route for a while, Mr. Barkley. Is Frisco keeping you busy?”

“Just finished a big trial and decided I need a vacation.” supplied Jarrod before gesturing to the group outside the car. “Looks like you’re gonna have a full car in a few minutes, John.”

“Yep sure looks like it.” agreed the older man. “I reckon they must be heading for the rodeo in Stockton later this week.”

“A rodeo?” repeated Jarrod in surprise. “I don’t believe the family mentioned a rodeo in any of their letters.”

“It’s an amateur and professional rodeo.” informed John moving away from the window and going behind the bar. “They’re giving a chance for the crews on the ranches to try their hand against the pros. Should be an interesting contest.”

Taking a seat against the window, Jarrod sipped his coffee and watched at the different men filing into the car, some of them limping or groaning at the battering their bodies apparently were taking in their chosen profession. The quiet of the morning was gone with the influx of male voices from the newcomers and the attorney took advantage of the gathering to indulge in people watching. Jarrod’s interest heightened as the crowd parted and a man who towered above the rest strolled into the car. The green eyes in the tanned face scanned the car quickly as the booming voice announced they needed a poker game to pass the time. Several pained moans could be heard from various members of the rodeo group.

“Com’n boys, whose up to the challenge this morning?” asked Turk loudly, stopping his scan on Jarrod and another man who had boarded the train with them. “How about you two? Seems the boys here are a mite shy.”

“Sure.” replied the other stranger with a shrug. “Why not?”

“I wouldn’t mind a hand or two to pass the time.” stated Jarrod with a smile into the predatory eyes of the large man. “Although four players would provide more of a challenge.”

Pointing at a table and gesturing for the men sitting there to move, Turk nodded and grinned, “Be right back.”

Standing and getting another cup of coffee, Jarrod sat at the table, pulling out his wallet and placing his money in front of him before nodding to the other man at the table. He didn’t need to look up to know the large man had returned for the group of men parted again like the red sea as he moved through the car.

“Sit there, Continental.” instructed the large man reaching in and pulling out his store of cash. “Gentlemen, the city dude here fancies himself a right smart poker player.”

Jarrod glanced up at the chuckle, his mind whirling out of control at the familiar profile of the blond who was dressed in a black suit. His hair was a bit longer than when he’d last seen him two years before and his face carried a faded bruise. In the hazy environment of the suddenly smaller smoking car, the skilled legal man was thankful for his ability to control his emotions and remain impassive while his stomach lurched into his throat. Thinking quickly, the leather shoulder holster caught his eye and Jarrod spoke.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen such a holster before.”

The blue eyes of Jarrod caught the hand reaching into the inside pocket of the suit coat slow slightly at the sound of his voice before a wallet appeared and the blond sat at the table.

“Comes in right handy sometimes, Mr…”

“Barkley. Jarrod Barkley.”

“Heath Thomson.” said Heath before turning his face and nodding to the other man who offered his name, Jim Granger.

Turk looked up and frowned at the dark haired man who was staring at Heath before he asked if the newest rodeo man had been to Stockton before. The large man rolled his eyes at the blond’s comments about what his imaginary women said about his looks before rubbing his hands together in anticipation and demanding the game to start.

Jarrod sat back after folding his hand, puffing on his cigar and watching the other three men as the round continued. The game had gone back and forth between Heath and the large man, Turk, their comments directed to each other caused a ripple of laughter periodically in the crowd around them. The attorney found he was intrigued with the difference in the man across from him and knew a span of two years would not have caused such a metamorphosis.

This Heath Thomson was the same man who had lead the Pinkerton investigation into the murder of his father and yet, he was starkly different. That Heath Thomson was more reserved in his dealings with others as he carried out the investigation. The other investigators with him showed the blond a great deal of respect and one could just see the quiet strength in him. This man was arrogant, challenging and had a devil may care attitude, an almost nonchalant off hand way about him. The change could only be due to one factor, he was undercover.

Jarrod looked up and caught the cold look in the blue eyes across from him for just a moment before the blond turned his head. The eyes spoke volumes just as they had that night two years ago when he approached and stunned the family with his claim.

“Turk, reckon I’d best quit while I’m ahead or I’ll have to wash dishes to get my entry fee together.” grinned Heath before standing and taking out his watch. “Sides we’ll be pulling into Stockton in a few minutes.”

“Just when I was on a streak too.” groused Turk loudly. “I almost made back what I lost to you last night.”

“Must be your lucky day Turk.” grinned Heath as he put on his suit coat. “Thanks for the game gentlemen.”

Jarrod suggested as Heath turned to go, “Perhaps while you are in Stockton, we can meet and play cards again, Mr. Thomson.”

Turning back to the table, Heath’s clipped words burned into Jarrod’s mind, “Ain’t likely gonna happen, Mr. Barkley. My kind don’t move in your world or so I recall some folks telling me a few years back. Good day.”

Watching the byplay between the two men, Turk smirked at the blush of red creeping up the neck of the dark haired man before he stood and shoved his money into the pocket of his pants, catching a glimpse of the back of Heath as it disappeared into the crowd.

“Perhaps we’ll see you at the rodeo, Mr. Barkley.” stated Turk before leaving the attorney sitting at the table alone. “Hey Con, wait up!”

Chapter 4

Making his way through the men in the smoking car, Heath mentally chastised himself for the icy parting words to the man who was his half brother. The anxiety he’d felt the night before at the thought of returning to Stockton rushed back like a giant wall of water down a desert gully. Opening the door at the end of the car and stepping out onto the metal platform, he inhaled a deep breath of fresh air and shook his head to return his focus to the matter at hand. He had a job to do and do it he would, whether this place was Barkley infested or not.

The door to the car opened and he turned to face the man filling the small area of the platform and suddenly questioning, “Con, what was that about?”

“What?” feigned Heath in confusion.

“That thing with Barkley back there.” prodded Turk curiously, jerking his thumb back over his shoulder.

Raising his lip in a sneer, the blue eyes flashed with contempt before looking away at the outskirts of the town passing by as the train slowed on its way into the station before snorting. “Those kinds of people just rile me I reckon.”

“What kind?” asked Turk casually unaware the body language caught out of the corner of the blond’s eye gave way his keen interest in the waited response.

“Rich never had to wonder where their next meal was coming from people. They got more than they deserve.” hissed the blond before jumping down onto the ground beside the train and turning left to stalk to the livestock car.

Turk’s eyes flared with open interest and his large frame hefted itself forward, landing effortlessly in the same spot his rodeo peer had jumped a few seconds earlier. The long stride caught up quickly with the blond and he stepped in tune with him. Green eyes glanced sideways and mentally calculated the vibes flowing from the younger man as they waited for the train to come to a complete stop.

“Can’t all of us be born rich, Con.” suggested Turk. “Some are destined while the rest of the world is forced to make their own destinies come true with blood and sweat.”

“Still gets my hackles up.” muttered Heath angrily, drawing on his own personal anger of his youth to fuel his emotions before snorting. “Wanting to meet and play cards sometimes like I’d ever be allowed to enter those places his kind frequent. I wouldn’t even be good enough to clean up after them or even wash one of their silver spoons.”

Laughing loudly, Turk smiled and clapped the blond on the back, “You and me both, Con. We were cursed…born into rags and not riches.”

A grin lifted the blond’s lips and he chuckled softly, “Reckon so, Turk. Then to top it off I was born a bastard.”

“Ouch.” grimaced Turk, the sympathy in his emerald eyes genuine as he shook his head. “Sorry to hear that, Thomson. I can see why you’d be a might touchy over the suggestion.”

Waving off the larger man’s sympathy, Heath shrugged before stepping forward and pulled down the wooden door to the livery car, “Ain’t much that can change it, Turk.”

“Maybe.” replied the large man softly as he followed the blond into the stock car to retrieve his horse. Tightening the cinch on the saddle, the larger man looked over and stated, “Hey, where you bunking this week?”

Lowering the left stirrup, Heath leaned against his modoc and smirked, “I know there’s some real nice hotels on the street but I can’t afford any of those so I reckon I’ll stay at the Hardesty Hotel at the edge of town. Ain’t much to look at but you don’t have to worry about too many bugs keeping company in your bed. First, I’m gonna take Gal for a run. She don’t like being cooped up on trains much.”

“Sounds good to me.” smiled Turk untying the reins of his horse. “I’ll get us two rooms and maybe we can meet up later to paint the town, get in a knock down drag out fight and maybe locate some female companionship.”

“You need this continental cowboy to find help you with finding a date?” teased Heath with a lop-sided grin.

“Hey, I’ll find us the women!” snarled Turk sending a glare at the smirking blond. “Just for that remark you might get stuck with one who has a big wart on her face and no teeth.”

“Well now, that’s mighty friendly of you, Turk.” grinned Heath leading Gal out of the livery car and vaulting into the saddle before tipping his hat to the larger man as he galloped off. “Happy hunting!”

Turk smiled at the man disappearing quickly from his view before telling the other men retrieving their horses where they would be staying while in Stockton. Leading the way from the depot down the main street, the green eyes lit up under his hat with excitement at the heavily guarded fortress nestled between two buildings as they made their way slowly towards the other side of town. As he rode, Jediah Turkelson ran through his mind ways of using Heath Thomson to further the means to his end before they left this town bilked of its riches and behind them.

Jarrod grabbed his bag and followed the rest of the men leaving the smoking car out the door. Looking around, he frowned when he couldn’t find any sign of the blond before heading to the livery. Accepting the greetings of the older man who rented him a horse to head to the ranch, the attorney rode to his Stockton office and dismounted, unlocking the door and heading inside. The drawn curtains over the windows of the building dimmed the interior and he made his way through the outer room, the familiar layout of the room traversed with ease in the darkness.

Crossing into his office, he stopped at the form peeking through the crack where the curtain didn’t fully cover a window. Reaching automatically for the gun on his hip, he stiffened at the taunting voice penetrating the spacious office in the faded light.

“What’re you gonna do, Mr. Barkley? Shoot your bastard half-brother for breaking and entering?”

“What are you doing here?” demanded Jarrod in a low voice, overcoming his surprise at finding someone in his office. “What do you want from us?”

Not replying and waiting til he couldn’t see the men who were riding with his prime suspect down the main street no longer through the crack in the curtains, the blond turned and his white teeth flashed suddenly.

“I’m not here to rehash the fruitful conversation I had with you and your family of two years ago, Mr. Barkley. Don’t worry about that.”

Stepping closer to the man leaning against the wall between his windows, Jarrod reached to open a curtain and stopped at the iron grip on his forearm accompanied with a firm order. “Don’t.”

“Why are you here then? Am I right to assume perhaps you’re undercover?” questioned Jarrod after the grip loosened and he stepped away from the curtain.

“Why I’m here is none of your damn business!” retorted the blond, the tension in his voice and body increasing tenfold before he took a deep breath and crossed to the open door. “You just ride out and tell the others in your family not to let on they know me if we run across each other in town. I’ll talk to the sheriff myself. I’ll be gone by next Monday and you won’t ever see me again.”

“There are others who may remember you. It’s only been two years.” suggested Jarrod.

“I’m not worried about those who my men questioned as most people tend to forget details if they are not directly affected. I may look familiar, however, by the time any of them remember, I’ll be well on my way out of here.” answered the pinkerton agent calmly. “It’s your family and their hatred for me that could kill me, Mr. Barkley. Indirectly or directly, if you blow my cover…you and them will need to deal with the aftermath. Though I suspect from what I know of you and your kind, your sleep won’t be disturbed none if something happens to me.”

Jarrod stared in disbelief as the words hung in the stagnate air of the room, the tone of warning ringing in his mind before he recalled why he needed to stop at his office and unlocked the bottom drawer in his desk, pulling out a thick file from where it sat for the past two years undisturbed. Gripping the folder tightly in his hand, he locked his office and climbed on his horse, heading to the edge of town where he pushed the rented animal into a full out gallop towards home.

Chapter 5

Allan Pinkerton, born in Glasgow, Scotland and son of a Glasgow police officer killed in the line of duty, migrated from his native lands with his new bride of one day to avoid arrest because of his involvement with a revolutionary group known as the Chartists. The couple was intending on settling in Quebec but a storm capsized their ship and the survivors swam to the shores of Nova Scotia. It was on the rescue ship where Pinkerton resolved to settling in America in 1842.

Tired of working for someone else, he established his own barrel making shop on the outskirts of Chicago in a place called Dundee. Pinkerton became involved in solving cases by accident when he helped the local sheriff arrest a counterfeiting ring. From that case, the barrel maker ran a sting operation to break a forgery ring and was rewarded for his quick thinking with a job offer from the Cook County Sheriff’s department who felt the barrel maker was in the wrong business. Eventually Pinkerton became Chicago’s first full-time detective before leaving the department to establish his own detective agency.

At a time when even the largest cities were not organized to fight the criminal element, the ‘All Seeing-Eye’ became the Pinkerton Detective Agency’s logo. Pinkerton's agents took on the most difficult assignments ranging from financial and property thefts to government overthrows to murder and his agents always got their man or woman if that was the case. They were organized and had a large collection of mug shots and database for the criminal element. Offering his agency on a freelance basis, the forward looking Pinkerton established relationships with the railroad companies and financial establishments of the fast growing country.

Long before the first female was allowed to join a police department, Allan Pinkerton hired women as agents after being convinced by Kate Warne of a woman’s ability to worm out secrets in many places which would be impossible for a male agent. A woman could befriend the wives and girlfriends of suspected criminals and gain their confidence. Men oftentimes become braggarts when they are around women who encourage them to boast. The native Scotsman never regretted his decision in hiring Kate Warne who he eventually appointed as Supervisor of Women Agents.

It was Allan Pinkerton himself who uncovered an assassination plot against Abraham Lincoln who was on his way to his inauguration in Baltimore. Warning the president elect, Pinkerton’s association with Lincoln was formed. Later, Abraham Lincoln hired Allan Pinkerton to organize a ‘secret service’ unit to gather military information on the Confederacy during the war. Pinkerton sent agents down south and under an assumed name, he also took part in the secret service unit’s activities in the states of Tennessee, Georgia and Mississippi.

It was during one of his stealth fact-finding missions, the head of the first detective agency’s life was saved by a gangling teenager with clear blue eyes and a crack-shot mentality. The boy short on book learning was already long on knowledge from life’s experiences, his quick mind was a sponge which soaked up information and stored it away. The youngster was steady under pressure which was known to bend the strongest of men and his innocent angelic face hid his sniper persona.

The meeting of the two in a time of battle cries and death lead Pinkerton to extend an open ended offer of a job to Heath Thomson before he departed from the hills of Tennessee. After the teenager healed enough from the atrocities of Carterson, the boy whose spirit was nearly broken traveled to Chicago and found in the Pinkerton agency, a profession which filled him with pride for the small part he could do to help the world around and a sense of purpose for the first time since his haphazard beginnings in the mining town of Strawberry, California…..

After riding away from the railroad depot and Jediah Turkelson while allowing Gal full rein, it was simple to make a quick circle around the town which had grown over the past two years. The outlying trees provided cover for his equine friend while he casually crossed a small open area and stood before the wooden door. The ability to pick lock such as the one on the back door to the attorney office had become a mindless, instinctive action over the years. In all reality, he hadn’t been wholly confident the first born son of Thomas J Barkley would make a detour to his Stockton office before heading to the Barkley family ranch.

He had simply rationalized if he had been in the same place as the family lawyer, coming face to face with a person who held the power to threaten all your family name stood for and built over the years, he’d have done the same thing as Jarrod Barkley. He’d have gathered whatever legal documents he possessed before deciding the next step of recourse. In his experience the innate sense of thinking by attorneys in terms of legalities, pros and cons, actions and recourses was a trait which was difficult to learn if the foundation wasn’t there since birth.

The modoc stood in the stall of the livery relishing the familiar hands working over her in appreciation of the exhilaration she provided in the morning run across the outlying area of Stockton. The blue eyes of her owner pondered in thought while he ran the curry comb over Gal’s soft coat, his mind working over the past morning and the connection he felt he made with Turk who was a contrast within himself.

The man large as a mountain was quick and light on his feet, his mind was a trap whose jaws were hard to open and he was skittish as a stallion who’d been running free all his life. He was a brute, dangerous and fatalistic to all those who stood in his way and yet, for all his gruffness and lewd comments he was infinitely respectful of the opposite sex.

He’d kill a man soon as look at him but he wouldn’t allow such treatment of women. Even to a woman who was forced to make her living entertaining strangers without romance, his unspoken rules applied and were followed. Those who were lead by him knew the line which should never be strayed across or the backlash would be swift, painful and deadly.

Smiling as he ran his hand over the long forehead of Gal, Heath whispered quietly to his faithful companion who was privy to all his secrets. The dark head nudged her master in the chest urging him to continue as they spoke to one another. The quiet of the livery was broken by a loud voice calling out. “Tom, you in here?”

“Yep!” called the older man from the door he was entering which lead to the corrals. “What can I do fer ya?”

Unobtrusively, Heath merged into the corner shadow of the stall as the owner of the voice strode through the livery heading towards the gray haired stoop shouldered caretaker.

“Heard my brother got off the train earlier, was he here?”

“Rented him a horse about an hour ago.” replied the gray haired man as he looped a rope around the neck of one of the mounts for rent before leading him towards the outside corral after receiving a word of thanks for the information from the prominent rancher.

Nick let out a frustrated sigh and turned to head out of the livery with his leather gloves slapping against the side of his right thigh, wondering why his big brother hadn’t wired he was returning home. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and he stopped, sweeping his eyes around the interior of the livery at the sudden feeling of being observed.

Thankful for the dark cloth covering he wore, Heath moved his eyes sideways to stop staring and watched out of his peripheral vision when the rancher stopped to look around. Inwardly cursing at the unexpected arrival of the man, the pinkerton agent didn’t think he was breathing while the tall man took stock of the area around him before frowning and moving past the stall, leaving the building for the bright light outside.

“That was too close for comfort. Time to earn our keep and get the bad guys, Gal.” murmured Heath for the modoc’s ears only and waited a full ten minutes before leaving the shadows hiding his presence in the livery.

Closing the door of the stall with barely a whisper of sound, the blond carried his rifle and saddlebags in his left hand and headed for the door, his hand reaching for his gun at the figure which suddenly appeared before him when he opened the side door to leave.

“You!” stammered Nick in disbelief before the shock turned to fury at the sight of the blond before jumping and slamming the man who was as surprised as him backwards into the interior of the darkened livery.

Chapter 6

Heath had barely a second to register the single word and the fury in the hazel eyes before the larger man propelled himself through the open door, large hands reaching for him. The plank of wood banged back onto its frame, instinctively the blond’s hand dropped his rifle and saddlebags at the body flying towards him.

Grabbing onto the shirt of the rancher, the pinkerton agent let the momentum of Nick carry him to the ground. Pushing up with his legs, Heath turned the surprise onto his attacker who suddenly found himself catapulted over the smaller man and airborne for a few seconds.

Landing hard on the dirt packed floor of the livery, Nick’s lungs spasmed for the air forced out by the jolt. Gathering his wits at the sound of the movement behind him, he rolled over and put his hands on the floor to spring to his feet. The rancher grunted loudly at the body which lodged full force on top of his back.

Rolling to his feet, the agent leapt forward landing on back of the muscular man causing his body to sprawl onto his stomach. Grabbing onto the right arm of the rancher, the pinkerton pressed his knee onto the neck of the larger man forcing the side of his face into the dirt floor while keeping the arm held firmly with a wrist lock.

Cursing at the man who held him mobile, Nick kicked out with his legs, trying futilely to buck the other man off his back. His left arm was pinned against his body by the lower half of the blond’s legs. With each movement the pain in his right arm grew harsher at the strain it was subject to until he thought the limb would snap off its socket. He stopped struggling and lay in the dirt gasping for air to fill his lungs which seemed crushed inside his chest.

“Git off!” growled Nick after several shallow breaths and not feeling any of the hold on his right arm lessening. “What are you trying to do? Break my arm!”

“If I have to I will, Mr. Barkley.” replied the blond calmly, barely breaking a sweat with his position of supremacy for the moment. “That depends entirely on you.”

“Why are you here? You didn’t get enough of us running you off before!” spat out the rancher.

Chuckling, Heath shook his head and leaned over slightly to smirk into the one hazel eye able to see him through the strands of black hair. “Boy howdy, that’s not how I remember our last meeting, Mr. Barkley. Your delusions of grandeur appeared to have grown over the past two years.”

“Just git off me!” snapped Nick, the flush on his face and his immobility heightening the anger in the curses flung at the blond.

Taking a breath, the blond sighed, “Contrary to what you think, my being here is not because of who happens to have sired us both. I’m working.”

“He’s not your father!” hissed the prominent rancher before cringing at the numbness taking over his right arm at the hold which felt like a band of steel around his wrist.

“So you all said two years ago.” stated the blond flatly. “If I let you up, will you give your word you won’t try anything further, Mr. Barkley?”

Nick fought the urge to not give his word but the pain in his shoulder was becoming unbearable from the arm twisted behind his back. Letting out a groan of frustration, the rancher nodded in defeat.

“Say it.” prodded the blond.

“I give my word dammit.” hissed Nick feeling the pressure on his neck and arm leaving immediately.

Pushing himself to his feet, Heath retrieved his rifle and saddlebags while keeping his eyes on the rancher who was rubbing the shoulder of the numb appendage. Hazel eyes loaded with dislike turned towards him before the larger man climbed to his feet, rubbing the wrist which had been locked just seconds before.

“As I told your brother this morning, I will be gone next week.” informed the agent. “I’m on a case and unfortunately, it’s brought me back to this town.”

“And?” questioned Nick moving his arm to work the tension out of its muscles.

“And what?”

The large hands of the rancher clenched and unclenched at the man who stood only a few feet away, casually leaning against a stall with a faint smirk hovering around his lips. Leaning down and picking up his hat, Nick brushed it off before placing it on his head.

“What do you want from us?” demanded the larger man in a low voice.

“I only want you to pretend you don’t know me should we meet again this coming week. Act like strangers instead of…family.” suggested the smaller man with a flash of taunting in his blue eyes. “Surely that shouldn’t be too difficult for the almighty and all-knowing Barkleys.”

“Listen to me you sonofa..” threatened Nick moving to shorten the distance between them, stopping at the rifle which was suddenly aimed at his stomach.

Shaking his head, Heath chastised the movement with a small smile, “Now, now, remember you gave your word, Mr. Barkley.”

“You just stay away from us and keep your lies to yourself or else.” ground out Nick between his clenched jaws, the fury in the larger man trembling his body and burned his eyes.

“It’s not very smart to threaten the man trying to keep your precious gold shipment safe, Mr. Barkley. Don’t worry, I have no desire to be known as a son of Tom Barkley or associated with any members of his brood the old stud left behind.” hissed the pinkerton agent before taking a quick breath to soothe the eruption of his temper. “Good day.”

Nick stared at the back of the man who suddenly turned on his heel and escaped through the door into the bright light of the day, leaving the rancher behind. The hazel eyes calmed slowly and he shook off the effects of the meeting before exiting through the same door as the man assigned to investigate the murder of his father after the governor personally requested the help of the Pinkerton Detective Agency.

Chapter 7

The parting of the air brought unbidden tears to his eyes under the brim of the hat pulled low on his head. The powerful muscles of the rented horse beneath him rolled beneath the coat of black, the mane of black coarse hairs fluttered in the wind and the striking of the hooves on the well used trail rumbled over the ground.

If the start of his day had been different, Jarrod would have relished the surge of wild abandonment taking over inside from his seat on the gelding. It wasn’t often the first son of the late prominent Stockton rancher was able to enjoy this one simple pleasure, this melding of man and horse into one. It had definitely been too long since he placed his well-being on the gamble of a horse’s sure footedness and a trail void of holes. Since his father’s death, he’d been haunted by doubts, haunted by his own chosen path in life.

Just as in a family of royalty, his standing as the first son had come with expectations and assumptions for his future. He’d never forget the disappointment in his father’s eyes the day he blurted out he had no desire to take the path his father expected him to. He had no desire to head the Barkley ranch for his love lay elsewhere, in precedents and rulings, in writs and depositions. The battle of pitting himself in the courtroom against opponents was like an aphrodisiac, a drug increasing his desires with every taste. Those blue eyes had been so disappointed and then turned to anger before his father had simply clenched his fists and spun on his heel in the foyer, the large oak door of the mansion slammed loudly and then silence was only heard.

Suddenly as if that one memory was the block holding up the tower, Jarrod reined in the rented horse sharply bending slightly at the waist, gasping and blinking his eyes, mentally being bombarded with images of his father over the years. The tower holding his father’s image high and out of reach started crumbling.

Different stages in life, different settings and then, it was there…..the same look in his father’s eyes…the same hard defiant look he’d seen today in his office when he’d stepped closer to open the curtain and the strong hand clamped onto his forearm.

“No.” hissed Jarrod shaking his head negatively, reaching back to the memories of two years ago. “No.”

Two years ago when their family was thrown into a land of confusion, crying and despaired over the heinous act of murder which brutally changed their lives, he’d been so sure the blond pinkerton detective was trying to find a way to take advantage of his family.

It was a time of deep upheaval, where a fog lay in their heads, misting their eyes to everything around. They were barely functioning as separate people let alone try to help and support each other through the darkest time in their lives. The mansion lay in a blackness of death even in the light of day. It was a shroud they couldn’t push off, it was heavy and constraining.

The murder’s affects heightened by the lack of the law finding who was responsible left fear behind, a fear of living. Out of sorts and afraid the assassin would strike again, the family members cut off access to the outer world, the ranch becoming a prison of their own making. The act of violence stole their fire for life, replacing it with only a spark while they seemed to wait for the other boot to drop.

The lack of progress by the local law in finding those responsible for the death of one of the state’s most important citizens and a staunch supporter of his own political campaign prompted the governor to reach out and beckon the Pinkerton Detective Agency’s help.

The lead detective appeared with two others on the ranch effortlessly breaking through the defenses erected by the men of the ranch crew who were as stunned by the murder of their employer and concerned by the reactions of his family, struggled to keep the ranch going in their time of great need. The quiet assured blond detective brought back to their family a sense of rightness, a sense of light in the darkness. His work and consequent arrest of Jordan and Crown released them from the shroud which had shielded them from the world.

Cradling the dust covered file to his chest, Jarrod gasped for air and swallowed against the thickness in his throat. Groaning out loud at the pain shooting through his middle section, he wrapped his arms over his stomach, rocking himself in the saddle.

Those blue eyes had flashed with disappointment and then a cold fury two weeks after the trial of Crown and Jordan had concluded. Two weeks had passed before Heath Thomson, pinkerton investigator, had reappeared and hat in hand, stood before his family as Jarrod quickly scanned the contents of the file. The quiet assuredness was gone and it was replaced with a reluctant hesitancy. God, he had recalled that conversation so many times over the past two years, he didn’t think he’d ever forget a single word or gesture.

“I tried to let it rest but I couldn’t, Mrs. Barkley. I’m a truthful man and these last two weeks I’ve been wrestling with myself. I have to tell you what I found out, for the sake of my own conscience if nothing else. I don’t expect anything or want anything from you. Just know I had no idea when I came here to do my job.” stated Heath quietly, searching the gray confused eyes as she sat on the settee, the skirt of her dress held in two clenched hands.

Victoria still reeling from losing her life partner struggled to read what she saw in his eyes, the windows he was allowing her to look into. She saw regret and could hear it in his voice and yet, she thought she saw a yearning for something also before she found her voice to reply. “Mr. Thomson, you have done our family a great service and for that, you have earned more than the right for us to hear what you have to say. Please what is it you have found out that disturbs you so.”

Taking in a shuddered breath the detective snuck a look to the attorney in the family who was staring wide eyed at a picture and birth certificate. Heath hadn’t needed to say anything because Nick who was glancing over his big brother’s shoulder exploded with an angry denial at the items in the file. The shouted words and orders to get off their ranch followed with a threat of bodily harm before his advance towards the man claiming to be another son of their father was stopped firmly by their petite mother.

Heath’s eyes flashed with a deep disappointment then anger after her stinging slap left a mark of red on his tanned cheek. His hands clenched the brim of his hat in his hands and he stood quietly while her furious shrieked words caused him to unconsciously flinch.

“My husband was a great man. Who do you think you are coming here trying to cast a shadow on him? He loved his family above everything and he gave his life to protect his friends in this community because that was the type of person he was. Never and I repeat, NEVER, would he have done such a thing. He would never forsake his vows and lay with another woman. Get out! Get off our ranch or else!”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Barkley.” apologized the detective walking to the door before glancing back over his shoulder, eyes blazing at the furious family staring at him. “Whether you deny it or not, this is true. Right now you can’t see it but one day in the future you will. The past has a way of sneaking up on a person when you least expect it. Your husband may have been great to everyone else but to me, he’s nothing more than a low down coyote who left a woman to raise his bastard child alone.”

Jarrod hadn’t realized he’d climbed down from his rented mount and was kneeling in the dirt on the trail, unable to keep himself in the saddle from the memories and emotions swaying him. The dark haired man shook uncontrollably, with the truth they as a family denied and he, himself, had wanted to lay hidden in the bottom drawer in his desk.

The son in him hadn’t wanted to find the truth, preferring to leave the image of his beloved and revered father intact in his eyes and the eyes of all around him. He denied the possibility and let the sleeping dog lie, only now it was up and snarling once again.

Just as the blond predicted, the past was now striking him hard in the face and rearing its ugly head of truth. The attorney gave into the sickness erupting within him, losing the contents of his stomach on the side of the trail while the mantra repeated itself in his head, deafening all other thoughts and memories.

Heath Thomson, pinkerton detective, was indeed the bastard son of Tom Barkley, his father.

Chapter 8

‘Idiot’ muttered Heath to himself after stepping out of the livery to escape Nick Barkley and blinking at the harsh light of the noon day sun meeting his eyes.

The blond took in a deep breath to settle the anger over the past incident he felt taking over inside and mentally shook himself as he walked down the boardwalk. Suddenly, he felt a ridiculous urge to escape this town and those who brushed themselves of him two years ago. Shaking his head at the powerful urge, the pinkerton detective chastised himself for allowing the past to interfere with his present task. He needed to get himself under control or the last four months of hard undercover work would be for naught.

Barkleys or not, he knew what he had to do and letting his own personal demons threaten his professional career was not an option and could result in a quick death. Reaching the out of the way hotel, Heath entered the shabby lobby and walked to the desk, signing the registry before climbing the stairs to room thirteen, the sound of male voices in the other rooms could be heard through the paper thin walls.

‘Just my luck’ smirked the blond to himself as he unlocked the door and stepped inside. Examining the room as he shut the door, he dropped his saddlebags and rifle on the bed, rolling his neck around on his shoulders to work out the tension stiffening his body. Emptying his saddlebags of their contents and placing them in the rickety drawer, he crossed over to the single window and looked out at the side of the building next to the hotel.

Moving the faded worn curtain aside, he unlatched the window and pushed only to find it wouldn’t budge. Studying the frame, he took a knife from his boot and pried out the nails holding the window shut before running the razor sharp tip through the paint in the guides, tapping the wood frame lightly to loosen it. Opening the window, the rush of fresh air smelled heavenly in the room he suspected hadn’t been cleaned in an eternity.

Stepping out onto the wooden side balcony, the blond leaned on the rail and studied the alleyway nine feet below. Blue eyes took note of the neighboring buildings side steps which were a mere four feet away. Scanning the area around and putting the information away in his mind, he climbed back inside the room at the knock on the door.

Standing to the side of the door and taking out his pistol, the pinkerton called for the person to enter, placing the metal barrel of his gun into the side of the large man who opened the door, stilling instantly.

“Kinda jumpy aren’t ya, Continental?” asked Turk at the blond who scowled at him and put his gun away.

“Just cautious Turk. Thirteen is not a lucky number to have.” replied Heath dryly.

Chuckling at his superstitious rodeo peer, the green eyes light up with amusement and a smile broke across his face. “If I’d known just a number would make you nervous like an old woman, I woulda got you a different room.”

Rolling his eyes at the laughter from the man who dwarfed him by several inches, Heath shook his head and lightly taunted after he closed the door. “Your concern for my well-being is touching, Turk.”

Clapping the smaller man on the back, Turk smirked, “Com’n me and the boys are gonna check out the town.”

Arching an eyebrow at the invitation in the man’s voice, Heath suggested, “Turk, you’re not trying to see what you can stir up among the locals are you?”

“Me?” questioned Turk with a wide eyed expression, laying his large hand on his massive chest. “Why that’s a very hurtful suggestion, Con.”

“Uh, yeah, sure it is.” agreed Heath with a mocking smile. “I guess it would be pretty low of you to check out the local boys and gauge if any of them could be a threat to the prize money. Perhaps even test out their strength in the guise of a bar fight.”

Shrugging the larger man stated in a low voice after he crossed to the open window and peered out, “Well now, I’m simply being cautious like you, Thomson. Taking the time to find out what people are hiding is like unraveling a ball of string. You never know where the beginning is or if you’re holding the end. Besides, planning for every eventuality is a fine art I like to indulge in.”

Blue eyes narrowed in response to the hidden tone of the larger man’s voice and he studied the back of Turk intently, feeling as if he were a minnow in a pond of sharks. The blond shook his head negatively when the larger man turned back towards him.

“Not everyone is a puzzle, Turk or hiding something.”

“You’re wrong there, Con.” disputed the larger man taking three steps to lightly jab his finger into the blond’s chest. “All of us have secrets we guard closely. Cards we don’t want others to read til the time is right. You. Me. Everyone. I simply enjoy forcing others to reveal their hands before I have to show mine.”

“No, I am not playing poker with you again til I’ve paid my entry fees.” grinned the agent after several seconds of seemingly heavy consideration of the larger man’s observations.

“Ah, you figured me out my ulterior motive, Continental.” admitted Turk with a dramatic sigh before grabbing the black hat from the dresser and thrusting it into the owner’s hands. “Let’s get us an early dinner. The clerk said at the Golden Palace they got a new show starting tonight. Me and the boys want you to come with us.”

Heath allowed the other man to steer him out of the room and into the hallway. Waiting for the leader to gather his pack from the various rooms in the narrow hall, the blond nodded a greeting to Jacks who appeared from the next room and stopped beside him.

“I know why you’re here.” whispered Jacks in a voice barely reaching the blond’s ears while he leaned his shoulder against the wall.

“I’m here for the same reason you are, Jacks.” replied Heath in an equally low tone, meeting the bald man’s eyes without flinching or revealing the emotions causing his heart to pound in his chest. “The exhilaration of the contest between men and beast and the prize money, of course.”

“Try again.” responded the short barrel chested man. “I heard you in the livery when I went looking for you.”

Tilting his head slightly, the blond reached into his vest and took out his small sack of makings, listening to the sound of Turk’s loud voice mixing with his gang’s while his steady fingers rolled the tobacco into the thin paper. Lighting a sulfur tipped match on the butt of his gun, he held the flickering flame to the end of his cigarette while cool blue eyes studied the man watching him intently beyond the flareup of blue.

“Eavesdropping doesn’t become you, Jacks.” said the pinkerton softly.

“You’re playing a dangerous game….lawman.” suggested Jacks.

Inhaling deeply on the cigarette and studying the cloud of smoke he expelled in the hallway, Heath suddenly threw an arm over the other man’s shoulders directing him further away from the men coming out of their rooms and to the stairs.

Whispering for Jacks’ ears only, the pinkerton warned firmly, “Stay out of this game, Jacks. You’re a good man and don’t need to get mixed up in what doesn’t concern you.”

Opening his mouth to reply, Jacks found himself propelled forward by the blond’s hand suddenly smacking the middle of his back and the hallway filled with the exaggerated laughter escaping the man hiding in the sheep’s clothing.

“Jacks, I look forward to the competition! You’re certainly due for a big payout!” stated Heath loudly.

“He sure is!” agreed Turk catching the slight start to the bald man’s body when he became aware of his presence from behind him. “Jacks is one of the best, Con. He’s just having a bit of a dry spell is all.”

Nodding in agreement, Heath smiled into the wary eyes of the smaller man, “Com’n, Turk’s buying the first round!”

“HEY!” shouted Turk loudly in protest at the chuckle coming from the blond as he dragged Jacks down the stairs towards the lobby and out into the afternoon light.

Watching the two men disappear onto the boardwalk, Turk stopped one of his men with a grip on his sleeve, whispering for the man’s ears only. Nodding once, the man stayed behind while the others followed their leader outside before turning and climbing back up the stairs, entering room thirteen after picking the ineffective lock with ease.

Chapter 9

Exiting the door, Nick mounted Coco who was tied outside the livery and headed down the main street of Stockton. His eyes caught a glimpse of the black suited pinkerton agent further down the boardwalk before he turned and disappeared from view. Scowling at the sight of the man, Nick touched his spurs into the side of his horse finding an unexpected urge to flee the vicinity of the blond.

Allowing Coco to gallop for a mile, the rancher slowed his friend to a cantor and let his mind wander back to why the pinkerton detective first appeared in their lives…..His father, the man who always appeared to be immortal and possessed a veneer of invincibility, did a wretched thing that overcast spring day…he died.

His father, born of Scottish parents who immigrated to the United States in search of more freedoms and opportunities, never had a chance that dreary misty morning. The man who looked for the good in his fellow man never saw the evil waiting for him. His pistol was still in it’s holster when they found his cold body after back trailing his horse. The thin leather thong was placed over the hammer to hold a pistol in place while riding and his fathers hadn’t been removed. They’d struck before his father had an opportunity to react to the threat and mount any type of defensive action.

Hazel eyes filled with moisture at the ache still inside his heart and he raised a hand to brush over his eyes. Time passed had made the once unbearable pain now a mere throbbing. It was somewhat easier and yet, he knew it would never fully be vanquished.

Never in all his days had Nicholas Jonathon Barkley imagined his father never being by his side, never being there to work the ranch and enjoy the simple pleasures they found in the hard work needed to keep their ranch thriving. Never had he experienced such a void as the one created inside him by the assassin’s twin bullets spaced within a half inch of each other in the chest of his father.

Some days he caught himself waiting for his father to ride up and sit his horse while they looked over their herd feeding on the lush pasture grasses. Other times he would talk of his plans for the ranch and his future out loud just to see if the man he knew watching from above would answer. They say time is a great healer of many wounds but Nick wondered many times since that day if there was any truth in the old saying.

Raising his canteen, the rancher swallowed several gulps of the tepid water to replace the dryness in his throat before wiping a hand across his mouth. Replacing the canteen on his saddle, he frowned at the wrist of his right hand, the memory of being skillfully forced into the hard packed dirt of the livery came rushing back to him.

He could still smell the earth under his face, the brutal pain in his shoulder and wrist while he struggled to no avail against the smaller man who used leverage to keep him in place. Hazel eyes narrowed at the upper hand the pinkerton gained over him within a matter of seconds, using his own anger against him while the lawman seemed to taunt him.

Suddenly from out of nowhere his mind was asking if he was angry due to Heath Thomson’s ability to easily pin him down like a child in the livery or was it because when he’d first met the detective two years ago, the rancher had felt a kinship with the quiet detective summoned to Stockton to perform his job. Scowling at himself, he shook his head to force the strange thoughts away only to find he couldn’t stop the memories of meeting the younger man from rushing to the forefront.

When Heath Thomson and the two other detectives appeared at the ranch, the youthful face of the pinkerton belied the life experiences hidden underneath. He and Jarrod were not positive of the younger man’s ability to bring a criminal to justice even though it was fully apparent the two older detectives with him willingly followed the young pinkerton’s lead without question.

Heath Thomson proceeded with the utmost care and infinite respect of the victim’s family. Never once had he let the family who were still suffering and reeling from the aftereffects of the murder give up hope of justice being served. While outwardly he appeared to be conducting the investigation with a casual ease, it didn’t take long for the family to see the intensity hidden beneath the cool eyes under the tan hat.

Running a hand through his thick black hair, Nick let out a sigh of frustration at the memories which wouldn’t stop. Even now he could feel the frustration of that time and his own need to right the wrong at whatever cost. He was so enraged and volatile, the chip on his shoulder was the side of a redwood and he was begging for someone to take him on to alleviate the pain tearing him apart inside. He recalled storming out of the house after yet another bout of shouted words with Jarrod over some detail he knew he’d escalated in his own mind but couldn’t stop the anger from seeking an outlet. He hadn’t realized he’d been followed in the faded light of the early evening until he was gasping for air after taking his rage physically out on a broken section of fence.

“Feeling better, Mr. Barkley?” asked Heath Thomson as he watched from six feet away.

Startled at the voice appearing from nowhere, Nick turned and reached for his gun, stopping when he recognized the young pinkerton agent in the fading light. Picking up his hat from where it’d fallen on the ground, the rancher’s shoulders slumped with the heavy weight and he shook his head negatively before letting out a sigh of frustration. “No…not really..”

“I know it’s hard to imagine right now but someday it’ll get easier.” assured the blond quietly turning his eyes to scan the area around them. “It just takes time.”

Nick frowned and hesitated a moment before asking a question which tormented his sleep on a nightly basis, “Why are you so sure you’ll find out who killed my father? Our sheriff couldn’t find any trail that day or even where the killer had waited.”

Lowering himself to lean against a tree, the agent gestured for the man who was constantly moving to take a seat beside him and gathered his words as he rolled a cigarette and lit it. Glancing sideways to the rancher whose eyes were studying his every movement, he answered.

“Your sheriff is a capable man but he doesn’t have access to the same information the Pinkerton Agency can get. Not every trail we follow is on the ground nor is every scene of the crime the only place to gather information. Your father was an influential man, Mr. Barkley. His murder is a big coupe to somebody out there and eventually someone will slip up. Loose lips and the reward for information your family is putting up will break the honor among thieves code. Most people can’t help bragging to make themselves look bigger than they are. So, you see, we will get him or them for we always catch our man. It just takes time.”

Nick closed his eyes for a moment remembering the quiet firm voice speaking in the falling darkness of the night and a week later after painstakingly following then researching each tip, the three agents arrested Jordan and Crown for their part in hiring the assassin, Vern Hickson, who changed his family’s lives.

However, any appreciation and kinship he may have felt for the detective who brought the murderers to justice had disappeared that night two years ago when he reappeared back into their lives.

If it wasn’t for his mother stepping in, the rancher wasn’t sure if he would have stopped short of strangling the man who was making the vicious slander on his father’s name and seeking to taint his memory. What the man hoped to gain from such an outrageous claim, he didn’t know and didn’t care for they had stopped him before he even got started.

Startling at the sight of the house, Nick shook his head when he realized his thoughts had really taken over on his ride home. Reining up in front of the barn, he lead Coco inside and stopped at the sight of Jarrod sitting on a bale of hay, chewing on a piece of straw.

“Jarrod!” sighed Nick crossing the distance to pull his big brother into a bear sized hug. “Fred told me he saw you getting off the train. Why didn’t you wire you were coming home?”

“Sorry it was a last minute decision.” said Jarrod patting the broad back of his brother before stepping a few feet back and running a hand through his hair. “Nick, on the train today, I saw…”

“I already know. I ran into him in the livery.” snapped Nick spinning on his heel and leading Coco into his stall, taking off the saddle and throwing it on the top rail before leaning on it and meeting his brother’s haunted blue eyes. “What’s wrong, Jarrod?”

“We made a grievous error two years ago, Nick. One I’m ashamed to say I would rather just go away.” admitted Jarrod in a hushed tone.

“What’re you talking about?” demanded the rancher. “What error?”

Lifting the file from the bale of hay, Jarrod took in a shuddered breath and swallowed the lump in his throat, “Heath Thomson wasn’t lying, Nick. He was telling the truth that night.”

Chapter 10

If his big brother had reached over and kicked him for no apparent reason, Nick didn’t think he’d of felt as stunned as he was at that very moment. Snapping shut his mouth he knew was hanging open, the shock turned to denial just as it had two years ago.

“He is NOT our father’s son!” shouted Nick. “How could you betray father like that to even think such a thing?”

Slapping the closed file against the stall door, Jarrod’s eyes narrowed in anger, “I’m not betraying our father, Nick!”

“Yes you are!” retorted Nick pushing the stall door open to force his brother to jump back out of the way before hazel eyes glared into blue and he clenched his fists together, holding them at his side.

“You’re standing there accusing our father of….of…having….a…a fling with another woman! If that’s not betrayal, I don’t know what is!”

“Dammit Nick! Father betrayed us twenty four years ago. I’m not proud of the fact but I can’t change it! Thomson spoke the truth. OUR father took another woman willingly and without any care for the consequences when he bed her and forsook his vows to….!” snapped Jarrod before falling backwards onto the bale of hay from the fist striking his jaw and cutting off his vile words.

Dazed from the meaty right hook, the fighter ever present in the suave attorney exploded at the unexpected attack and felt hands grabbing onto his suit coat, hauling him upwards on his feet. Reaching out to put both hands on the broad chest before him, Jarrod pushed Nick off balance and jabbed with a left hook, breaking the skin on the cheek of the tanned face before lunging forward.

Falling backwards after Jarrod collided into him, Nick grabbed the coat of his brother with his left hand, landing a blow to his brother’s body before he felt a burst of pain in the side of his head. Rolling on the floor of the barn, both men were oblivious to the sounds of their fists striking each other, their words of grunted anger or the pain of coming into contact with the hard contents of the barn around them while locked in a brutal battle of misplaced rage.

“STOP IT!” screamed Audra at the top of her lungs upon entering the barn, rushing forward at the horrific scene between her two brothers. “DUKE! MAKE THEM STOP! DUKE!”

Rushing into the barn at the frightened shrill of the blonde, Duke stopped and stared for a moment at the two men who were battling each other uncaring of anything or anyone around them. Lunging forward he grabbed onto Jarrod who stiff armed the ranch foreman away from them, his other hand splitting open Nick’s lip before he felt himself thrown to the side and he took hold on the remnant of black shirt covering the rancher’s body. Throwing Nick off the top of him, the scream of pain from his brother shattered the haze of red before his eyes and he stared at Nick in agony trying to reach the shattered piece of wood from the stall impaled in his back.

“Nick!” screamed Jarrod, trying to crawl to his brother only to find himself hauled up and effortlessly tossed backwards by Duke.

“STAY AWAY JARROD!” ordered the foreman, his face red with anger at the two brothers who’d been laying their hands on each other before he fell to his knees and stilled Nick’s writhing body with his large hands. “Easy, boy. Don’t touch it, Nick. You could cause more damage. Stop moving boy!”

Audra stared in shock at her two bloody brothers, her face losing all color at the violence she witnessed. Ciego gently moved the shaken girl to the side and out of the path of the hands summoned by Duke’s calls and the Barkley matriarch who arrived to gasp at the scene before her. Moving to Audra, Victoria took the shocked girl’s face in her hands and commanded firmly, “Audra, help Silas get the boys’ rooms ready. NOW!”

The voice of her mother reached through the fog and her tearful blue eyes blinked before she found her voice and replied in a weak whisper, “Ye…yes…mother.”

Ciego nodded at the motion of the silver haired lady’s head and escorted the trembling girl out of the barn and to the house. Victoria spoke to the two hands by Jarrod directing them to help her first born into the house before falling to her knees beside Nick, glancing back and nailing her oldest son with a stern look at the protest starting to leave his lips.

“Do as you’re told, Jarrod.” stated Victoria seeing the regret and pain etched in his eyes as he stared at his prone brother. “Take him to the house.”

Gasping for shallow breaths while struggling to remain still, Nick’s eyes were clenched tightly against the pain radiating throughout his back and he felt a tiny hand brush through his sweat drenched hair.

“Sorry….mother.” groaned Nick opening his eyes to a mere slit before shutting them against the fire in his back. “Sorry.”

“Shhhh, sweetheart. Don’t worry right now, we’ll sort it out later, Nicholas.” soothed Victoria glancing to Duke who had carefully cut the shreds of black shirt away to examine the wood piercing the muscular back. “We’ll need something stable to carry him to the house on, Duke. We don’t want to take the chance on moving the piece of wood until Howard gets here.”

Pushing herself onto her wobbly legs, Victoria stood back as Duke supervised the transfer of Nick onto a sheet of wood, the movement causing the strong formidable man to wince and turn paler before succumbing to darkness. Following the four men slowly carrying their boss into the mansion and up the staircase, Victoria put aside her questions as to what transpired between her two close sons.

The matriarch wasn’t wholly surprised to find Jarrod sitting in a chair in Nick’s room being tended to by Silas’ capable hands. The guilt ridden blue eyes of the attorney took in his unconscious brother’s form as the hands carefully lowered the wood gurney onto the bed before silently leaving the room. Closing his eyes against the pain of his own injuries, Jarrod clenched his sore jaw against the slim wrinkled fingers expertly running over his ribs. The scream of pain from his brother echoed in his head and in tune with the agony he felt in his heart.

Duke shook his head and sighed at the condition of the two brothers, softly speaking his dismay of the occurrence out loud, “They haven’t had a battle like this since…”

Victoria caught the foreman’s eyes after he realized what he’d been about to say and nodded in agreement, finishing her old friend’s statement for him. “Since their father died. Yes, I know.”

“Sorry, Victoria.” apologized Duke with a sigh of regret.

Smiling slightly, she shook her head and reached across the bed to squeeze his forearm, “Thanks for considering me but it’s okay to say it, Duke. I won’t break.”

Patting the small petite hand on his arm, Duke nodded once and smiled softly, “I know. I’ll wait downstairs for the doc, you need anything further?”

“I think we can manage, Duke. Thank you.” stated Victoria gratefully before washing the blood from around the wood piece then carefully wrapping a clean wet cloth around it to ensure it didn’t move the slightest bit. Glancing over to her oldest son, the silver head tilted slightly and she spoke, “What happened, Jarrod?”

Slowly opening his eyes at her question, Jarrod shook his head then reached up to hold it when a sharp pain suggested it was an unwise move by the attorney. Taking in a shallow breath, his blue eyes met hers and he opened his mouth but couldn’t get the words with the power to reshatter his mother’s world out, electing to break the hold of her eyes instead and look away.

“Jarrod?” warned Victoria in a low voice, motioning for Silas and Audra who entered with more water to leave the room. Waiting til the door closed, she ran her finger lightly down the bruised cheek of Nick before moving around the bed to stand in front of her first born, raising his chin to bring his eyes to meet her gray orbs and commanded firmly. “Tell me, Jarrod!”

“No!” groaned Nick from the bed slowly turning his head towards his brother and mother. “It’s….nothing..”

A soft knock on the bedroom door stopped any further questions and Victoria crossed the room expecting to find the family physician, surprised instead to find Silas holding a brown file and softly explaining one of the hands had found it under the destruction in the barn. Taking the folder with fingers shaking from recognition of it, Victoria looked down and then up to meet the wide eyed fearful gaze of her oldest son.

Chapter 11

“Mother.” said Jarrod, pushing himself up from the chair, his eyes not leaving the head of silver lowered to stare at the closed folder as the fingers of her right hand lightly glided over the name written on the outside, T J Barkley. “Mother, I…”

“Why is this here, Jarrod?” asked Victoria unable to tear her gaze from the file she hadn’t seen in two years. Shaking her head as if again denying the words spoken by the pinkerton agent that one night, she suddenly found herself gripping the file with two tense hands.

“Jarrod…Mother.” groaned Nick from the bed, the wood lodged in his back making his attempts to move to see his mother and brother standing out of view almost unbearable and his head fell back onto the quilt, frustrated and fighting to keep his head clear from the blanket of hurt.

“Mother…” prodded Jarrod quietly with concern before placing his large hands over the small white knuckled fingers. “I’ll take this.”

Blinking suddenly at the warm hands enveloping hers, Victoria looked up and met the worried eyes of her son before releasing her hold on the heavy paper file. Stepping back, she glanced around the room as if confused for a moment at her surroundings before the moan of frustration from Nick sent her hurrying to the bedside to still his need to move.

“Stay still, Nicholas.” ordered Victoria softly, her hands still trembling slightly at the shock while they stroked over his black locks. “Howard will be here soon.”

“Mother…we…need…” gasped Nick, clenching his jaw at the shot of heat in his back.

“Later.” replied the petite woman looking towards Jarrod who’d move to the other side of the bed to rest his hand on his brother’s right shoulder. “I don’t want to know right now what it means. I just want to concentrate on your brother’s injury.”

Jarrod sighed softly, “Alright, Mother. We’ll discuss it later when you’re ready.”

Nick closed his eyes and released a captured sigh of relief, wanting nothing more than to take the pain away he knew would be stark and harsh if Jarrod were right. The silence of the room was broken only by the swishing noise from the fabric of his mother’s skirt and he drifted off, unable to keep his eyes pried open for the arrival of their family physician.

Jarrod lay his aching head back on the chair, his hooded eyes carefully watching his mother who’d been through an emotional trauma when their father was murdered. The arrest and conviction of those responsible didn’t halt her sinking to a low depth of despair and despondency. The walls of the black pit were almost too high for her to scale and for month’s afterwards her children had worried the mother they knew wouldn’t be returned.

At a point where all they knew around them was changing, they hadn’t recognized the signs before depression had its hands on their mother’s soul and entire being. Her children were so wrapped up in their own agony at the time and worry over her, it’d been easier for all to put the quiet blond detective out of their minds and keep his outrageous allegations far away from the woman they cherished above all others. She was too fragile at the time to take another blow from life.

As a son, he could reason he’d done it to protect his mother and siblings from a person who was seeking to gain from the tragedy in their lives. With his father gone, it was up to him to protect his family from outsiders and further harm. He could reason it anyway he wanted to spin it but that didn’t change the fact of the matter.

He, Jarrod Barkley, attorney at law…the man who sought justice for those who came to him for help…had willing and consciously took a stance similar to an ostrich with its head stuck in the ground.

It was easier at the time to remain oblivious. While at odd times the words spoken that night came back to him over the years and he remembered them with surprising clarity, it was all too easy to brush them aside. At first using his mother’s sickness as an excuse and then later, avoidance in this issue simply became a familiar cohort as his practice demanded his attention and time.

Closing his eyes against the throbbing behind them, Jarrod Barkley wondered how and when he’d developed this deep unwillingness to probe for truth and justice. For a man who’d been known to search for the truth regardless of his own personal safety, he had been a coward in his uninvestigated opinion Heath Thomson was lying.

Now he knew different and it scared him to think of what the truth could do to his mother. The woman had vehemently denied the suggestion her life partner was anything but a faithful, loving husband. His father if anything had grown in his mother’s mind since his death, perhaps from the memories she was desperately trying to keep alive for herself and her children. He shuddered slightly at the shock he witnessed in her eyes at the sight of the folder. While she’d recovered from the violent act which had shaken his mother to her core, he feared this reopened page in the past might be a catalyst for a dark future.

Victoria sat on a chair pulled up to the bedside, her hands rubbing lightly up and down Nick’s arm, her eyes straying to the folder Jarrod had placed on the table beside him. The closed holder beckoned her attention and she shook her head, trying to dispel the lure of its contents from across the room. Studying the bruised faces of both her sons, she sighed and felt for a moment the same as she had after her husband were murdered.

Her inner self had spiraled out of control, wildly like a pair of runaway horses bent on destruction. She hadn’t even realized it was happening until it seemed she were trapped and unable to escape. She couldn’t find the strength she knew had always lived within her and in a way, it was easier not to.

It was easier not to fight but simply to let the world pass by as she stood on the outside looking in. It was easier to deny what she hadn’t wanted to know for fear of having her memories stolen away. It was easier to stand up for what you always thought was right than to have to perhaps recognize your life may not have been what you thought it to be. It was so much easier to keep life as it was than to maybe be forced to accept what was unacceptable.

All those things may have been easier at that time and had grown easier since those dark days and yet, the file again beckoned her eyes. It had been easier but that didn’t mean it was right.

Chapter 12

If their family friend, Howard Merar, was surprised at how her two sons came to be in their present conditions he certainly hid it well. His dark brown eyes medically scrutinized the battered bodies before removing the piece of wood lodged in the muscular back of her youngest son, stitching up the gash left behind and placing a thick gauze pad on it, wrapping a cloth around his midsection to hold it in place.

The breaths they had been collectively holding as a family were released at his reassuring prognosis of good. The damage inflected from the large wood sliver could have been worse than it was if it had gone deeper or been an inch further to the left. All in all, the rancher would be back to himself in a short time and could return to ruling his domain like the king he was destined to be by birth.

Jarrod choked back a cry at the prognosis, his guilt over what he’d done to his brother ripping him internally to shreds. The older son’s eyes spoke of the deep regret and love he had for his younger brother. He was ashamed for the fiasco which lead Nick to this state, ashamed they’d almost acted out the play of Cain and Abel between themselves. Never would he intentionally harm the man who was closer to him than any other in the world. He’d always thought they were bound by more than just the circumstances of their births, they were bound by a deep sense of brotherhood.

After overcoming her shock of the violence she’d witnessed between her two brothers, Audra quickly recovered enough to voice her disappointment in both of her big brothers. They were her protectors, her pillars of compassion, strength and love. Their animalistic display had scared her and then fired up her own portion of the Barkley temper she’d inherited. The words of disappointment died out after her eyes fell upon the file her mother had picked up from its place on Nick’s table.

Jarrod struggled to see around the doctor who was carefully touching his aching ribs at the gasp from his sister. Howard frowned and muttered under his breath when the first born pushed his probing hands away, the lawyer scowling when they automatically returned to his side.

“I’m alright.” hissed Jarrod pushing his left arm into his ribs and holding onto the chair with his right. “Silas already checked them out.”

“Well, how about you just humor me, Jarrod.” retorted the physician with a sarcastic voice. “I don’t know about Silas’ medical schooling, however, my diploma from the university says I’ve earned the right to do this.”

Blushing slightly at the scathing tone of the healer, Jarrod settled back into the chair after his mother stepped around Howard to see what was causing the snapped words between the two men.

“Jarrod, please let Howard do his job.” commanded Victoria dropping her eyes to follow the line of his sight to the file she held by her right side. Looking up, she arched an eyebrow into the blue eyes and shook her head, clearly advising her son to wait out the necessary examination.

Audra stood by Nick who lay sleeping in an ether induced unawareness. Brushing her hand over the black hair falling onto his forehead, she winced recalling the voice which nearly shattered her eardrums that night two years ago when he relayed his denial towards the blond pinkerton detective.

She was only eighteen years old and innocent, however, she didn’t need to be worldly to understand what the insinuation meant. After the initial shock of her mother’s loud stinging slap on the young man’s face wore off and he left after his saying his final words, she’d also cast aside the man’s allegation, denying her gentle and loving father capable of such a callous act.

Sighing inwardly, she frowned with worry and found the back of her mother who was overseeing the actions of Howard Merar. That night’s visit by the pinkerton agent who ensured justice was found for their family had seemed to be the straw breaking the camel’s back, or at the very least, the final blow in recent events responsible for sending her mother further into the depression they hadn’t known had a hold on her.

Howard finished wrapping the attorney’s ribs and picked up his instruments, stowing them into his black leather satchel before picking up his hat. Smiling into the grateful gray eyes of his old friend, Howard said, “Could be a hairline fracture of one of his ribs, Victoria. It’s best to wrap them just to be on the safe side. Nick’ll be sore in the morning and see if you can at least keep him from working a day or two. I’ll leave the rest of the laudanum in this bottle in case you can get him to take it, though I seriously doubt it.”

“Thank you, Howard for your help.” sighed the silver haired lady watching Jarrod button up his filthy shirt. “I’ll see you out.”

“Mother..” stated Jarrod pushing himself up as Audra watched from the bedside. “If you’d like, we can talk now.”

“Audra, please let Silas know I’ll be having dinner in my room tonight. Jarrod, I suggest you clean up and I’ll expect you both to work together to keep your brother in bed.” informed Victoria after turning from the door, her suddenly found courage almost disappearing from the eyes staring back at her with unhidden concern. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

Two sets of blue eyes stared at the door long after their mother glided through its opening, the footfalls in the hallway slowly subsiding as she and the physician drew further down the red runner. Jarrod raised a hand to run it through his hair in frustration unsure of what he should do next. Audra pulled the blanket further upon Nick’s chest, resting her fingers lightly on his cheek before straightening and walking over to stand in front of her brother.

“Jarrod, why does mother have that file? What is going on? Is that pinkerton agent trying again to claim he’s…he’s our father’s son? Is he? Where has the file been?” questioned the young blonde in rapid fire succession with her hands on her hips.

Any other time and under different circumstances, Jarrod would have smiled into the fiery blue eyes and teased his sister about copying their mother’s favorite stance for displeasure without realizing it. However, he saw no humor in the day’s events and shook his head negatively before taking a deep breath at the confusion in his youngest sibling’s eyes.

“Heath Thomson’s here Audra. He’s in Stockton working undercover with the rodeo that’s in town. I rode with him on the train and we…spoke briefly in my office.” informed the first born son of Tom Barkley in a weary voice before placing his hands on his sister’s shoulders and keeping her eyes locked with his before he added in a firm voice.

“He’s not restating the claim he made before of being our father’s son….I am. Heath Thomson is your brother.”

Chapter 13

Staring into the eyes of her oldest brother, Audra gasped at the truth she saw in their depths and shook her head in denial, her minding whirling with confusion. Opening and closing her mouth several times, it took a few moments for the trembling young woman to find her voice.

“You must be wrong, Jarrod.” protested the blonde stumbling slightly over her words. “Father loved mother! He loved us!”

“Honey, it doesn’t mean father didn’t love mother or us.” reassured Jarrod raising a hand to caress her cheek becoming wet with tears. “All men and women are fallible because we’re human. To us he was wonderful, generous, fair and compassionate. Everything a father should be but he wasn’t a god….he was a man who was imperfect…a man who died to make the world better for everyone else.”

“No…I….I don’t believe it.” mumbled Audra stepping back from her brother’s hold and pacing from the end of the bed to the window, stopping to look out into the late afternoon light before swiping the tears from her cheek. Taking a breath, she spun around and raised her chin slightly. “What kind of proof is there, Jarrod? What makes you believe it?”

Letting out a slow sigh, Jarrod shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck before answering. “It’s all in the folder mother has taken to her room.”

“The folder?” repeated Audra in disbelief. “If the proof’s in the folder, why didn’t you say something two years ago? You’ve known for two years?”

“No I haven’t known for two years!” rebuked Jarrod, his voice edged with anger at the accusation as his head snapped upwards. “If you’ll recall Audra, mother took the folder from me after Heath Thomson left the house that night. She put it in the safe and then we all went to bed! The next morning she fell ill, remember? I took the folder to my office and put it in a drawer, intending to open it but I never did.”

Audra’s shaky legs collapsed her body onto the chair Jarrod had previously been sitting in, her hands clenched together in her lap. Looking across the room into the blue eyes of the man who took over the role of father in her life, she wiped at the new tears threatening to spring from her eyes. “I’m sorry, Jarrod. I didn’t mean to suggest you were keeping anything from us, I’m just not thinking straight right now.”

The risen temper in him receded and Jarrod smiled slightly, as he sank slowly onto the edge of Nick’s bed, “None of us were thinking too clearly back then either, honey. If we…I…had at least wanted to look into his claims or examined everything he left with us that day, we would’ve known sooner.”

Audra tilted her head in thought for a moment before leaning towards her brother, the lines of weariness could be seen around his eyes, “It was a very bad time for our family, Jarrod. Father was just taken from us and Mother needed us in the worst possible way, she was so lost and alone. Any of us could have taken the time to look at whatever was in that file but none of us did. I’m ashamed to say, I was relieved for I thought the file was burned and gone forever. I wish it had been.”

“I’ve had the same thought too, Audra.” admitted the attorney in a low whisper his hands tenderly wiping over the bruised parts of his face, the loss of adrenaline and the emotional events weighing him down.

Taking in a deep breath to cleanse the aftermath of her admission, the blonde’s fingers played at the creases in her skirt in the quiet of the room before swallowing and speaking. “Jarrod, we can’t feign ignorance any more. What are we going to do now?”

Opening his mouth, Jarrod looked to the bed with wide eyes when Nick mumbled, “Nothing, we’re gonna wait.”

“Wait?” repeated Jarrod turning to face his brother, his features relaxed from the lingering effects of laudanum and ether. “We can’t wait, Nick.”

“Jarrod’s right, Nick.” agreed Audra quietly, gracing her reawakening brother with a kiss on his forehead. “Being ignorant these last two years, doesn’t make it right.”

Reaching up and taking hold of the hand brushing through his hair, Nick smiled lazily at his beautiful sister before squeezing the small digit lightly and moved his eyes to meet Jarrod’s.

“It’s mother’s move, Jarrod. Don’t take that away from her.” stated the rancher fighting the pulling of his eyes to close again. “She’s stronger now. She needs to….”

Jarrod nodded in understanding and found the hazel eyes becoming foggier with sleep, finishing the statement for his brother, “She needs to find the strength to face what she doesn’t want to….you’re right, Nick. We’ve been so afraid of doing anything to cause mother to relive that time….we’ve let fear rule our hearts. We forget Mother raised three children in the wilds of California while her husband was out building an empire….she’s perhaps stronger than we’ve given her credit for.”

A grin lifted the corner of the rancher’s lips, the lids on hazel eyes closed and his body relaxed further into the cushiony softness holding his body. Jarrod reached over and touched a blanketed leg, squeezing the calf of it and smiling as Audra watched.

“When did you get to be so smart, little brother?” questioned the attorney to his sleeping brother’s form, guilt ridden eyes gazing upon the handsome face sporting the bruises he put there. “We’ll talk more later, Nick.”

Heath smiled at Jacks standing next to him at the bar with a beer in his hand, the blue eyes of the pinkerton hadn’t let the other man out of his sight all afternoon. Jacks ignored the younger man next to him and took a swallow of beer listening to one of the other in their small professional circle boasting of an eight second ride on a bull who’d never been rode by a mortal man.

Looking into the mirror above the bar, the pinkerton watched the lean muscled missing member of Turk’s gang walk through the swinging doors and head to his proclaimed leader. Turk studied the cards he held close to his chest while he listened, nodding once before folding his hand and pushing back his chair, loudly stating an apology to the others at the table as he took his leave.

Returning his attention to the beer before him, Heath could feel the larger man making his way across the room and he turned to look up into the piercing green eyes, pushing his hat back onto his forehead a little.

“Win any, Turk?” asked Heath taking a swallow of beer.

“Lost interest in the game. It’s no fun if I’m not taking your money, Con.” joked Turk after throwing back a shot of whiskey, chasing it with a large gulp of beer. “You always put up a good scrapping.”

“If I recall, you’re the one who was scrapping the bottom of the barrel last time.” smirked Heath, flashing a lop-sided grin before turning to face the mirror, finding the large man beside him in its reflection.

Rolling his eyes at the laughter in the soft voice, Turk clapped the blond on the back and threw down the remainder of his beer. “Com’n Thomson, the Golden Palace awaits us lowly rodeo men! Right, boys?”

Chuckling and shaking his head at the loud boisterous excited whoops filling the room, Heath finished his beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, resettling his hat on his blond head before turning from the bar. Jacks saluted the two men before him with his mug.

“I’m going back to the hotel, boys.” informed the bald headed man. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

Turk grabbed hold of the broadcloth shoulder of the black suit, cutting off the forthcoming protests from the blonde who he noticed kept the other in his sight all afternoon, a most peculiar event in his mind. “Are you sure, Jacks? We might need you later if we happen to twist somebody’s tail.”

“If you do twist the tail of anybody, remember I don’t have any bail money to get you boys outta jail.” stated Jacks with a wiry grin, watching the laughing Goliath propel David out of the saloon and onto the boardwalk finishing his beer before heading back to the hotel. Entering the meager room of the low end hotel, Jackson Martin lay on his bed staring up at the ceiling, warring internally with the knowledge he had unfortunately overheard earlier that day.

Chapter 14

The large hand clamped down on his shoulder steered him effectively out the door and Heath bite back the sudden strong urge to reach up and break one of the fingers of the offensive limb. He fought it down and allowed Turk to lead him out the door of the saloon and down the boardwalk. The pinkerton agent knew the ball was in Jacks court so to speak and even though he felt the man would keep his learned information to himself, he would of course feel a whole lot better if he were attached to Jacks’ hip.

“Turk, you trying to rip off my shoulder or something?” quipped Heath.

“Nope, just anxious to get to the Golden Palace.” stated the giant loosening his hold and clapping the blond’s back. “I haven’t seen one of these shows in a long time.”

“What kind of show?” questioned Heath suspiciously.

“One of those traveling acting shows.” informed Turk. “When I was a kid my pa used to let me go into town with him to see them. He said it was part of my education for becoming a man.”

“Guess that could be helpful in life.” smirked Heath. “Course from your ways with the ladies, I don’t think you picked up the right pointers.”

“Hardy har har, Con.” growled the larger man. “You aren’t doing quite so good yourself.”

Raising his hands in a surrendering motion, the blond denied as he stepped through the open door into Stockton’s largest saloon, “Hey, you’re the one who was gonna line up some female companionship, remember?”

“I did and that’s why we’re here.” stated Turk leading the way through the saloon, weaving around tables to head past the long oak bar where a stage filled the back wall. The golden brown curtain cut off the view to the preparations causing the velvet material to move slightly. Taking seats at a table, Heath leaned back and studied the men in the room, smiling at the bar maid who came to take their drink orders. The interior of the saloon was vastly different from the one they’d just left.

It was spacious and well-light, boasting at least thirty tables more. The shelves behind the bar were lined with bottles and glasses, mugs and set off with two golden lion head figurines on both ends. The length of the bar was long enough to require two bartenders and the women who made their living up the stairs who were not attached to a customer sashayed their way over to the new group of fresh men.

Turk nudged Heath in the arm after putting back his whiskey in one gulp, whispering to the blond on his right. “See, all different shapes and sizes, Con. You can have your pick.”

Shaking his head, Heath chuckled and took a sip of his whiskey, his eyes running appreciatively over the smattering of skimpy gowns on the women. Turk grinned widely at a redheaded girl, directing one of his men to move from the chair beside him. Pulling out the oak seat, Turk gallantly allowed the woman who was barely out of her teens to get comfortable before returning to his own chair. Heath shook his head slightly at two other girls approaching cutting off their invitation before they even neared, thankful Red appeared to be capturing all of Turk’s undivided attention.

Calmly nursing his glass of dark liquid, the blond noted all of the men he associated as working with Turk in his moonlighting were in the bar, even the late comer who he surmised had been checking out the Wells Fargo depot next to the office of Jarrod Barkley. Studying the rings left on the table from his shot glass, the agent looked up to run his eyes again over the gathering crowd, relieved to see no familiar faces of two years ago. He still had to get to the jail to speak to the town sheriff and from the sudden mother hen attitude of Turk, he surmised that particular task could be a little tricky.

The clear air of the saloon was slowly filling with smoke and the increase of patrons brought twice the noise level with it. The cheerful sound of the piano by a bowler wearing, striped vested man could barely be heard over the din. The tables filled quickly with men of all ages and shapes, various occupations and places in society. Turk’s preoccupation with Red was curbed at the man who dressed in long tails and a top hat stepped out on stage to a round of anticipation and eager clapping, his hand raising to quell the enthusiasm of the overfilled Golden Palace to a dull roar.

“Gentlemen and Ladies, the Golden Palace would like you to sit back and enjoy the theatrical musings, acting and just puredee shenanigans of the traveling acting troupe, The Minervas with a special treat tonight, folks….straight from a widely successful tour in Europe…the lovely Kate Bellona….”

All eyes watched a slender tall brunette float onto the stage from the side exit, bowing slightly at the welcoming applause and calls from the testosterone driven audience before the room hushed in silence at the musical vocal chords in her throat. All words stopped and only the creak of wood as people shifted in their seats was heard, the large man to his left leaned over and whispered, “Con, have you heard such a lovely voice in all your life?”

“Nope, can’t say I have.” replied Heath turning to look at Turk who was mystified, his eyes catching sight of the foreman of the Barkley ranch standing at the end of the bar.

The older man, Duke McCall, hadn’t changed since the time he spent on the well operated empire two years ago. Picking up his glass, Heath turned his attention back to the stage and casually sipped his drink. His level of foreboding increasing with the appearance of the foreman and his irritation rose slightly along with his desire to leave this town behind.

Four months of undercover work, four months of riding dangerous bulls for money he didn’t need, four months of riding wild broncs and feeling the teeth in his mouth shake with every buck and every hard landing in the rodeo ring. Four months and he’d been getting closer with every day and every calculated move.

First, Jarrod Barkley, then Nick Barkley, then Jacks, now Duke McCall….throwing back his shot of whiskey as the rest of the patrons hollered their appreciation to the song bird on the stage, the pinkerton agent wondered if this town was fast becoming his waterloo.

The rest of the acts passed by quickly, the show ending amid groans of disappointment from the town seeking improvement in their cultural experience. Turk ordered more drinks for his men as he watched a lean bodied, wide shouldered, brown haired man making his way on a direct path to their table, stopping in front of it and glaring at the blond to his right.

“Hey, dude!” taunted the man, his eyes laughing in amusement at the blond dressed in what many considered Sunday best. Turk arched an eyebrow and sat back in his chair taking in the new show suddenly before him, anxious to see what his rodeo peer would do under the unearned provocation. “I’m talking to you, city man. This place is too tough for someone like you, you could get hurt.”

Raising his head barely an inch at a time, Heath slowly met the eyes of the heavy whiskered man with a lazy smile before speaking, “The only thing myself or any of the others in here have to worry about I reckon is your smell.”

“My smell!” snarled the man, his eyes blazing with anger before reaching across the table, finding his body helped along by two hands grabbing onto his forearms. The commotion of the unexpected flying body shifted all attention to the space beyond the table and Duke McCall stared, his drink nearly slipping from his hand at the sight of one of the combatants.

Pulling the brown haired man across the table, Heath threw him to his right, the challenger broke a table and landed sideways on two other men. Pushing against the two men, his challenger struggled to his feet and Heath met the rush coming, placing two punches into the hard stomach of the brown haired man unable to duck before the other’s blow broke the skin on his cheek.

Landing a stiff right to his challenger’s jaw, Heath watched the brown haired man fall backwards before a fist from a combatant in a secondary fight beside them missed its mark and struck him instead. Staggering from the unexpected blow to the side of his head, Heath grabbed onto the brown haired man who rammed into his stomach with his shoulder, propelling him backwards, catching sight of Turk and his men in the middle of a large melee which broken out. The momentum of the brown haired man didn’t stop and they broke through a window to land in the street out of the view of the others in the saloon. Rolling together to the dark shadows of the alley, Heath shook his hand and groaned as he rubbed the pained fingers after climbing to his feet.

“Damn Mickey, what the hell is under your shirt?”

“Heath, you’re getting soft in your old age.” teased the brown haired man, directing the blond further down the alley, past several buildings to a house on the outskirts of town. “I briefed the sheriff when he said you hadn’t shown up yet. The shipment’s all set to arrive on schedule.”

“Good. With any luck we’ll be out of here by Sunday.” replied Heath pushing past the brown haired man and entering the house, smiling at the brunette sitting at the table. “Hi Kate.”

“Hi yourself.” greeted the brunette with a wide smile as she stood and crossed the room, stepping into the arms of the blond. “It’s good to see you.”

Chapter 15

Wrapping his arms around the slender brunette, Heath added an extra squeeze of affection before kissing her cheek. Stepping back, he held her at arm’s length and studied the weary brown eyes, “You sounded beautiful tonight, Kate. You had them eating out of your hand.”

“Thanks, Heath.” smiled the brunette before sighing. “I always wanted to be an actress before real life forced me to grow up, that is.”

Raising a hand to brush the soft skin of her cheek, Heath smiled tenderly and pulled out a chair at the table, taking his seat after she assumed hers. “You look tired, Kate. You should’ve stayed back at headquarters and sent one of the other girls.”

Kate patted the large hand laying on the table before replying, “And miss seeing my best friend take down some of our most wanted? No thanks.”

“Kate, what am I gonna do with you?” asked Heath with a shake of his head. “You’re twice as stubborn as a mule, woman!”

Laughing softly, Kate Warne’s brown eyes sparkled with amusement, “You’d know first hand seeing as how you’re just as stubborn, Heath Thomson.”

Feigning a wounded look, Heath chuckled and nodded before taking off his hat to run his fingers through his hair, dropping his hat on the empty chair beside him and standing. Kate studied the man ten years her junior as he stood and walked to the stove, shaking his hand after a quick touch of the coffee pot seared his fingertips.

The man who usually wore clothes of a different color and style didn’t seem as out of place in the continental suit as he did when he first donned it. Heath’s participation in rodeo events throughout his teen years and early adulthood made his shedding the new identity a relatively easy metamorphosis. The transformation was complete when the quiet, brooding blond was replaced with brashness, loudness and a devil may care bravado to match the suit he was sporting.

Kate could see the past four months were wearing on her fellow pinkerton, evident by the shadows in his eyes and the tension around his mouth. The guards and facades of his current role were down in the comfort zone with his friend. She herself had hoped the current assignment would have been completed before the rodeo circuit had reached Stockton.

Two years ago after his investigation in Stockton ended and he’d taken a sudden leave upon returning back to headquarters, she had been in the dark as much as the others in their organization at the unexpected event. In the years she’d known him, Heath rarely took any time off for himself unless forced and even then, it was often at the order of his superiors who believed in refueling one’s body and mind after grueling assignments.

Heath, who’d starting training as a teenager, felt he owed his sanity and self-worth to Allan Pinkerton, though Kate knew better. Inside, Heath Thomson was more worthy than a lot of people who held all the riches in the world could ever be. He had the stuff inside some could only dream after or long for.

When he returned from his unexpected hiatus, she was sure Heath had only confided in her about what he’d uncovered and the decision he made after serious consideration. Even though he hadn’t said it, she knew the not quite so gentle rebuff of the Barkleys had angered him and yet, inside she knew it had cut him to the quick. He was a man to whom truth was important and yet, he was still a boy who longed for the father he’d never had. He hadn’t been hoping for wealth of monetary value but wealth of family, something no amount of money would ever buy.

“Have you seen them, Heath?” questioned Kate quietly after the blond retook his seat and placed a cup of coffee in front of her.

Nodding once, Heath stared into his own cup before looking up into the warm eyes beside him, thankful for this special woman who’d treated him like a best friend and little brother since he’d joined the pinkertons.

“And?” prompted the brunette when he was slow to add any details.

Taking in a breath and letting it out slowly, Heath shrugged, “Not much to say really. The Barkleys still think I’m lying and its for the best anyway. What good would ever come of it except for Mrs. Barkley having to be reminded of her husband’s….extracurricular activities.”

“You spoke with all of them?”

“Not all of them. I saw Jarrod, the lawyer and Nick whose running the ranch.” admitted the blond before dismissing the subject with a wave of his hand. “We have more pressing matters to discuss Kate other than my meetings with the Barkleys.”

Arching an eyebrow at the young man, Kate let him know her dissatisfaction without a word being spoken. Heath shifted once under the scrutiny before rolling his eyes.

“Kate!” stated the blond in an exasperated voice. “Business first, remember?”

Shaking her finger at him, the brunette retorted, “We’re gonna discuss this later, Heath. You can count on it.”

“And I’m saying there’s nothing to discuss, Kate.” said Heath firmly, the look in the brown eyes letting him know it wouldn’t matter what he wanted for she always got her way much as the pinkertons always got their man. “Mickey told me everything’s on schedule.”

“Yes it is.” confirmed Kate.

Walking to a cupboard and unrolling a map on the table, Kate set her cup on one corner to hold it in place while Heath moved his to the other. Blue eyes studied the diagram and followed the manicured finger as it moved on the brown parchment paper, nodding in understanding of the plan and asking some questions to cement any lingering edges.

“I got it, Kate. If we don’t have any unexpected problems with Jacks or anyone else, things should flow smoothly.” replied Heath in deep thought before frowning. “Are you sure you’re up to this Kate? Didn’t the doc tell you to take it easy?

“I’m fine, worry wart.” smiled Kate rolling up the paper and replacing it in the cupboard of the rented house before opening the watch hanging from her neck chain. “Heath, you’d best be going. Sheriff Maden will be watching so he can arrest you for starting the fight in the Golden Palace.”

“I’m not sure I’m gonna like being beholden to Turk.” smirked Heath with a wink. “No telling how he’ll want his payback.”

Laughing and shaking her head, Kate moved to the window and pulled back a curtain, nodding to the signal from Mickey who was keeping watch. “Mick says the coast is clear.”

“Take care and get some rest.” ordered Heath softly, placing a kiss on her cheek before Kate blew out the lamp, darkening the room to match the night outside.

“Mickey’ll be hanging around and he’ll keep an eye on that Jacks fellow.” informed Kate before opening the door, the night quickly swallowing up the man dressed in black.

Continued…