Continental Cowboy

Chapters 30-44

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 30

Billy sighed and scanned the countryside as he rode in the caboose of the northern bound train. When he reached his destination of Lodi, he would head directly to the mine with his horse only to make a return two day trip with the wagons carrying the Barkley gold.

While the iron beast rambled down its metal tracks, Billy found he couldn’t keep the eyes of Heath Thomson out of his mind. His mind replayed the brief conversation he had with the escaped agent in the jail the night he arrested him. The honesty in the blue eyes of the agent and the beliefs of the man’s peers stirred the doubt inside.

Billy had only known his fellow deputy Michael Hicks about six months and yet, the other man seemed quite capable of protecting himself. He never shirked his duties and he was quick to volunteer in any capacity their sheriff needed. The man had definitely been a bit of a recluse when he wasn’t working or patrolling the streets of Stockton. When he wasn’t on the job, most times Hicks could be found in the tiny shack he called home. He hadn’t been overly social and yet, hadn’t been snubbing of others. He simply kept to himself when he wasn’t needed on the job. Somehow this avoidance when he was off the clock didn’t quite fit in with him and Fred as both men could usually be found hanging around the town jail during their off hours. The law was in their blood and a part of them.

Billy shook his head trying to fight the feeling of betrayal rising up from his silent scrutiny of his murdered fellow deputy. He scowled to himself and questioned why he now felt this need to scrutinize Michael’s habits. The young deputy hadn’t done anything wrong except die in the line of duty. Michael’s habits were something Billy had accepted without question when the man was alive.

Angry at himself for letting the sliver of doubt inside question the life of the man who was wrongly killed, Billy pushed himself to his feet and stepped out the door. Leaning on the railing and allowing the fresh air to bath his inflamed cheeks, he allowed the glorious scenery provided by mother nature to sooth his ruffled feathers.

Taking out his pocket watch, Billy smiled tenderly at the face of Audra looking at him. The young man still found it necessary to pinch himself sometimes when he gazed at her picture. He could hardly believe the daughter of the town’s most prominent family loved him and agreed to be his wife. When he first saw Audra in town after he moved to Stockton a year and a half ago, she’d taken the breath out of his lungs with her natural beauty. When he and Fred had ridden out to the Barkley ranch a few days later to pick up some rustlers Nick and his crew had captured, he found it difficult to keep his wits about him. After the dance two weeks later, he asked to call on her and her brothers agreed.

‘Her brothers’ thought Billy as he snapped his pocket watch closed and turned his eyes to the line of rails the train left behind. ‘Not all her brothers apparently.’

Heath Thomson didn’t resemble either Nick or Jarrod unless one considered their temper which could be hair trigger at times, especially when protecting someone both men held dear to their hearts. Billy found himself comparing the two dark haired men to the blond who had reappeared into the Barkleys’ lives and was mildly surprised at the similarities between them. Not physical similarities but if Heath Thomson was half the type of man suggested by Agent Warne and Agent Flanagan, the three were similar where it counted….deep inside their hearts and souls….beneath the layers of their carnal beings.

For some unknown reason, the young man was suddenly apprehensive and fretful of the upcoming days. Taking in a deep breath, Billy shook his head before heading back inside the caboose for the remaining three hours of the ride.

Jacks inwardly cursed his stupidity and foolhardiness. In his fervor to pacify the inner voice beseeching him to do the right thing, the man realized he hadn’t given any thought to where he would head if he was successful at freeing the agent from Carson’s hands. Nor had the rodeo rider taken the time to pillage the shack for any medical supplies or provisions. The area he had headed into was alien to him and he wished he had taken the time to stop and think. He wasn’t prepared to offer Thomson the care he needed and he realized he’d need to stop so he could scrounge up some food for both of them. Nudging his horse into the trees, Jacks stopped in a secluded grove by a small stream and carefully pushed Heath forward to lean across the neck of his horse.

Thomson was quiet now, the moans of pain from the jarring movement of the horse as they rode had ceased. The lawman hadn’t waken since they’d climbed on the horse an hour ago. He only offered a smattering of words from his swollen and bruised face. Jacks hadn’t been able to catch any of the words as they were muffled.

Climbing carefully down from his horse, Jacks tied the reins to a bush and took his bedroll off the back of his saddle. Quickly clearing a section of the forest ground of rocks and branches, he spread out the ground sheet. Returning to his horse, he grabbed hold of the sullied suit coat and pulled Heath towards him.

Almost crumpling under the dead weight of Heath after the oblivious man slid off the side, Jacks grunted and slowly dragged the agent over to the ground sheet. Laying him down carefully, he relieved the injured man of his black coat after cutting the cloth to avoid jarring the dislocated shoulder. Rolling it up, Jacks gently lifted the blond head and rested it on the makeshift pillow.

After filling his canteen in the small trickle of cool water, Jacks pulled off his saddlebags and took out a clean shirt, tearing off the tail end. Wetting the cloth, he dabbed at the dried blood on the face of the unaware man with infinite care, not willing to cause him any more pain.

Swallowing several times, Jacks fought to keep his queasy stomach under control as the damage to the agent became more evident after the camouflage of dried fluids was wiped away. The right side of Heath’s face was swollen and almost distorted. The bruising was a blackish color in the worst spots and purple in the less affected spots. His right eye was swollen shut and crusted with blood from the jagged gash running from below the corner of his eye into his hairline. The serrated cut Jacks surmised was left by the small rowel from the spurs which were fastened on the boots of the now deceased Carson. The left side of the pinkerton’s face was bruised in a way which told the man, who had himself been the receiver of such a mark, that it was made from a fist.

Jacks sat on his heels to wipe a shaky hand across his face after he finished cleansing the tender and battered face. Taking a swallow of the brackish water in his canteen, he took in a breath and let it out slowly. Reaching over, he opened the white shirt under the black vest and whistled at the bruising extending across Heath’s abdomen. Using three fingers, he pushed against the marred skin not surprised at the groan escaping from the man whose head started moving at the flaring cloudburst of pain in his lower body.

“Thomson, it’s me Jacks.” Stated the rodeo man, shaking the left shoulder of the lawman several times. He could see the effort the agent was putting forth to follow his spoken instructions by the distortion of his face as he grimaced and his features tightened up in agony.

“Wake up now, Thomson. Com’n, Heath! I need you to wake up!”

It took several minutes of verbal prodding before he found himself looking into the single blue eye glazed with hurt. Jacks managed to get a few sips of water into Heath before laying his head back down. The small exercise of movement left the agent gasping for air, unable to control the fire in his back or his stomach.

“Thomson, I need to find us some food.” Informed Jacks in a loud voice, his words working through the covering of anguish surrounding the pinkerton before he listened to the muffled sounds coming from the battered face.

Shaking his head negatively, Jacks denied the injured man his request. “No, we can’t go back. Turk will kill us both. You need to rest and get some food in you. There’s got to be a ranch or town around close by where I can get you some help.”

Even in his dazed mind, Heath knew Stockton was where he needed to be and where his fellow agents were. Distressed at possibly heading away from those he needed, Heath struggled to push himself up to argue his point only to go limp as the darkness surpassed his current capabilities. Jacks covered the unaware man with a blanket and built a small fire. Taking one last look at the lawman whose life he willingly took responsibility of, the rodeo rider moved into the trees to see if he could find a small animal to provide some much needed nourishment for the injured man.

Jarrod stood outside the home of Paul Petrone, knocking and waiting for their partner in the Lodi mine to allow him entry. The attorney had returned to Stockton after leaving Nick in the hands of their mother. Upon his entrance into town, he’d stopped to learn there was no change in the search for Heath from the sheriff before heading to his final destination.

“Jarrod!” exclaimed the older man in surprise after opening the door. “What happened to you?”

Staring at the portly man for a moment, Jarrod realized he was asking about the bruises on his face and replied, “Oh, it was just a disagreement, Paul.”

Nodding, Paul Petrone could see the anxious filled eyes of the attorney and queried, “What can I do for you?”

“Paul, it’s vital that you tell me the shipping schedule for the gold.” Stated Jarrod thrown off by the other man’s non-offer to enter the building since he was still on the porch.

Surprised at the request, the gray head shook negatively after a moment of thought, “Sorry, Jarrod, you know I can’t do that.”

“Can’t or won’t!” snapped Jarrod automatically before taking a breath to calm himself at the fury flashing across the other man’s face. “Paul, I don’t want to get into all the details right now but my brother’s life may depend on it.”

“Nick’s?” asked Paul in surprise.

“No, Heath’s. Let him in, Mr. Petrone.”

Jarrod’s eyes widened in surprise at the female voice making the statement from behind his family’s mining partner. Paul clenched his jaw in anger for a moment before stepping aside to allow Jarrod entry. Crossing the threshold, Jarrod openly stared at the tall brunette with a questioning look.

“Agent Kate Warne, Jarrod Barkley.” Introduced Paul Petrone as he closed the door. “Agent Warne is with The Pinkerton Detective Agency, Jarrod. She is in charge of our shipment of gold.”

“Mr. Barkley, it is nice to meet you.” Greeted Kate crossing the short distance to shake the hand of the handsome dark haired man.

Chapter 31

Taking the small hand offered to him in greeting, Jarrod frowned slightly in puzzlement as he stared into the brown eyes of the female agent. “I admit you have surprised me with your knowledge of our family relationship, Agent Warne.

Covering the hand holding onto her right with her left, Kate smiled in understanding, “Heath and I are good friends as well as peers. He is oftentimes …reserved….when it comes to his personal business, however, in this situation he needed a friend, a sounding board of empathy.”

Jarrod’s sea blue eyes flared for a moment in regret before she loosened her hold on his hands and stepped away. Casting a sideways glance at the majority owner of the Lodi mine, Kate saw the disapproval in the older man’s eyes.

“Mr. Petrone and I were just discussing the gold shipments, Mr. Barkley.” Informed Kate, her words snapping up the well known attorney’s head.

“Shipments?” repeated Jarrod. “There’s more than one?”

“To draw out the men we’ve been tracking, we needed some bait.” Said Kate calmly. “While they are focused on one shipment and being greeted by our agents, we will be bringing the gold in safely through the backdoor.”

“Agent Warne, do you think it is wise to tell everyone about this plan?” scoffed the mine owner, his distrust more from dislike of sharing part of his wealth with the prominent family who refused to sell their shares in the partnership originally started out of necessity for funding.

“Mr. Petrone, are you suggesting the Barkley family cannot be trusted?” asked Kate in a cold tone, causing the older man’s face to darken with embarrassment as Jarrod’s eyes bored down on him in reproach. “The Barkleys are more than financially stable and have no reason to not be given full access to the information. I can assure you they are not about to steal the gold for themselves.”

Waving a hand sideways, the older man tried to recover from his moment of embarrassment and readily agreed, “Of course, Agent, I’ll just be glad this whole business will be over soon and these men are caught.”

“Then our business here is concluded for now, Mr. Petrone.” Informed Kate with a nod of satisfaction. “In two days your gold will be safely in the vault at the Wells Fargo depot and you can proceed with business as usual without any outside lingering threat.”

“Thank you again, Agent Warne.” Replied the older man gratefully, relieved again at knowing his shipment would arrive safely.

“Mr. Barkley, would you walk me back to where I’m staying?” queried Kate with a soft smile at the polished attorney blinking once in surprise before recovering.

“Of course, Agent Warne.” Agreeing Jarrod nodded once in farewell to their business partner and followed her to the back door where he held it open.

Stepping onto the porch, Kate waited til the door closed before shaking her head at the greedy man they left behind in the house. Jarrod offered his arm and let her take the lead, curious when she cut through the back lawn and entered a path in the woods after taking her hand from the crook of his arm. Holding up her skirt in one hand, she lead the way through the path cut through the dense growth before suddenly stopping. Turning on her heel, Kate met the inquisitive eyes of Heath’s eldest brother for a moment.

“He is strong and will be fine, Mr. Barkley.” Assured Kate in a low voice.

“It’s not that I don’t want to share your confidence, Agent Warne…” suggested Jarrod, his eyes filled with concern for the missing man they were discussing. “We need to find him and see for ourselves. It’s imperative that we talk to him.”

“I know.” Sighed Kate coughing suddenly into her handkerchief.

“Are you alright?” asked Jarrod at the beads of sweat breaking out on her forehead. “You look rather pale, Agent.”

Taking a shallow breath, Kate pointedly ignored the question of concern, “I have an agent watching the man we suspect as the ringleader of the gang we’re after. If he is responsible for Heath’s disappearance and leaves town, he’ll lead us right to him.”

“Somehow I don’t imagine it will be that easy. From my two brief encounters with him, I don’t think Turk will be that gullible.” Countered Jarrod with a negative shake of his head.

“Even the smartest of animals can get caught in a trap, Mr. Barkley.” Suggested the pinkerton agent positively. “You only need the right bait.”

“Perhaps.” deliberated Jarrod before meeting the brown eyes regarding him. “I don’t care about the gold or catching Turk, Agent. I…my family and I…we only want Heath back. They can have all the riches we have if that’s what it would take.”

“We will do our best to find him, Mr. Barkley, you can count on that.” Reassured Kate quietly trying to dispel the concern in the light blue eyes before she turned to continue leading the way down the path. “Now perhaps you’d care to explain your need to know the schedules for the shipment of gold.”

Kate stepped to the side and leaned casually against a tree to allow the man behind her to see they had reached the end of the path. Jarrod saw with a quick glance towards the buildings he could see, they had nearly walked the length of Stockton. Turning to speak to his lovely escort stopping beside the tree, he was alarmed to see her eyes closed tightly as if in pain and her cheeks flushed more from just her natural color.

“Mrs. Warne? Are you ill?” queried Jarrod, placing the back of his hand against her forehead and advising her. “You have a fever.”

“It’s Miss.” Whispered Kate opening her eyes to gaze into the sky blue wells.

“What?” asked Jarrod thrown off kilter by her remark, his focus currently was only her state of health.

“I’m not married, Mr. Barkley.” Replied Kate with a slight smile while she pulled his hand from her face. “It’s Miss.”

Clearing his throat suddenly, Jarrod smiled quickly before his bruised features settled into a frown. “Fine. Miss Warne, I’m taking you to see Dr. Merar.”

Shaking her head, Kate took in a low breath and replied, “That’s not convenient right now, Mr. Barkley. I’d appreciate if you’d be so kind as to help me back to our base of operations. It’s the Brenner house at the edge of town.”

“Not convenient? Miss Warne, I don’t think….” Protested Jarrod after she placed her shaky right hand in the crook of his elbow and reached over to hold onto his arm with her left.

“Please, Mr. Barkley.” Encouraged Kate looking up into the soft eyes of the attorney on her right. “The job and finding Heath are all that’s important right now. I won’t allow anything else to interfere with those priorities, including myself.”

The pleading in the brown eyes twisted his heart and Jarrod felt his resolve melting from her quietly voiced request. Letting out a frustrated sigh, he nodded once and started off, muttering under his breath. “You appear to be a stubborn woman, Miss Warne. You can bet we’ll take about this later.”

“I look forward to it, Mr. Barkley.” stated Kate with a giggle, weary brown eyes sparkling at the red creeping up the well known attorney’s neck.

Finding her son awake, Victoria brushed the locks of dark hair from Nick’s forehead to bestow a kiss before settling beside him on the settee. Taking his right hand, she clenched it between her own and studied his profile.

“Mother, I….” started Nick before shaking his head at the dark thoughts which wouldn’t leave his head.

“They’ll find him, Nick.” Assured Victoria firmly before adding. “Remember, he has Barkley blood flowing through his veins, sweetheart. Barkleys never give up.”

Turning his head to meet his mother’s gray eyes, Nick reached over to cover the joined hands on her lap. “I don’t want our need for him to cause you pain, Mother.”

“Oh, Nick.” Sighed Victoria with a tender smile into the deeply worried hazel eyes. “Heath Thomson hasn’t caused pain to me deliberately. It wasn’t his fault. HE is not responsible for his parents’….faults.”

Taking in a deep breath, Nick dropped his eyes from hers to study their entwined fingers, “I can’t stop thinking about his life, Mother. Jarrod told me Heath’s mother died only days after he was born and we already know…father wasn’t there. Who raised him? Who took care of him when he was a little boy? What was his life like growing up? Who is this little brother of mine?”

Blinking back the tears at the sincere need in her son’s voice, Victoria pulled out a hand to caress Nick’s cheek before whispering. “Your little brother is a man who seems to have overcome great obstacles in his life, Nick. He’s a man anyone would be proud to call son.”

Closing his eyes and letting out a sigh of frustration, Nick nodded once and met his mother’s loving eyes again, “I can’t sit here while he’s out there needing his family, Mother.”

“I know, son.” Admitted Victoria brushing her fingers through his hair.

“I’m taking the men out to look for Heath, they want him alive otherwise he’d have been killed at the jail.” Reasoned Nick, his mind pondering the area around the town he knew like the back of his hand before surmising. “He won’t be in town and if I had done this….I’d want him somewhere away from the traveled road….out of sight.”

“Just be careful, Nick.” Requested Victoria. “Knowing the little bit that we do about him, I don’t think Heath Thomson would appreciate you putting yourself in jeopardy. He might see it as being a debt he’ll owe to you. Remember, he’s angry with us, Nick.”

A smile lifted the corners of his lips and Nick shrugged, “Little brother doesn’t have much say in the matter now, does he Mother? If I have to hold finding him over his head to blackmail him into staying in one spot so we can talk to him, then I will.”

Chapter 32

“Mother, do you think Nick should be riding?” asked Audra, looking sideways into the gray eyes with eyes shadowed with concern as they watched Nick pull himself up onto Coco.

“No.” admitted Victoria honestly smiling at the gasp of surprise from her daughter before wrapping an arm around her waist. “You know as well as I do when your brothers set their mind to something, sometimes even I can’t dissuade them. Duke will make sure Nick is fine.”

“I wish I could go with them.” Stated Audra in a yearning tone. “I’d rather be doing anything other than sitting at home and waiting.”

Directing her daughter back into the house, Victoria smiled in understanding before suggesting, “There’s plenty to do while we wait, Audra. We haven’t finished addressing the invitations yet and we have plenty of decisions to make for your wedding.”

“I know, Mother.” sighed Audra with a shake of her head as she looked down at the small diamond on her left hand, blue eyes filling with love as her mind flashed the picture of her betrothed’s face. “I was waiting for Billy to help me with some of the decisions. Now that Fred sent him out of town, I guess we could make some of them.”

“I’m sure your Billy won’t mind Audra.” suggested the matriarch softly with a slight roll of her eyes. “He’s busy and may not have as much time to help as you think he will.”

“I know, Mother but it’s his wedding too.” Protested the younger woman with a shake of her blonde head. “It’s not fair if I have to make all the decisions and he just has to show up.”

Running a hand over her daughter’s back, Victoria nodded in agreement before pulling her only daughter into the parlor and offered the time old wisdom of the world, “Life is never fair, Audra. Most men have no idea of the work that goes into planning a wedding and it’s best perhaps or there would never be marriages. It’s the same as women having babies…the men were there for the fun part but if they had to go through what we do at the end….the world would be less populated.”

“Mother!” exclaimed Audra turning a deep red at her mother’s frank words of wisdom. “Really!”

Sitting her daughter down on the settee, Victoria took a seat on the oak coffee table and took hold of both her daughter’s hands. Her gray eyes studied the light blue eyes filled with embarrassment and also a desire to know the mysteries of what occurred between man and woman. She would be a married woman in four months and in the quiet of the mansion, Victoria imparted to her daughter the knowledge of the physical act a girl whose innocence was untouched would never know.

It took several minutes upon waking before he could work through the pulsating pain in his head after being jolted from the cushiony darkness of his haven. He struggled to control the shudders of agony in his body and the screaming pain in his limbs from being tied in the unforgiving position for too many hours in a row. He moaned and found himself wishing his head was separated from his body, wishing his nerve endings were cauterized to stop the flood of anguish to his brain.

Through a narrow slit, his eye sluggishly moved to study the area around him in the fading afternoon light. The hours before came back slowly to him as his thoughts fought to become jointed amidst the abyss from the untidiness of pain in his head. He gasped and lay trembling with fear after he rolled onto his left side, combating with his own body in internal warfare at the queasiness spiraling upwards from his aggrieved head. His mind functioned haphazardly and finally recognized the sound he’d heard.

It had been the echo of a gun firing. One time? Or more times? He creased his forehead as he pushed it into the forest floor, fighting to bring more cohesiveness to his mind as he lay searching for the shadowy thought lingering to become clearer. Who fired?

Jacks.

Jacks had somehow liberated him from the hands and boots of Daley Carson. He had become a savior at his time of helplessness. Jacks had been there but where was he now? Who fired the gun? Jacks. Where’s Jacks?

Panting for air, the pinkerton’s left hand clenched the debris scattered on the ground beneath him. His fingers dug into mother nature’s earth as he moved his legs at a snail’s pace to bend his knees in preparation for a colossal act of strength. An act which normally was taken for granted, an act as simple as breathing.

Squinting his eye shut, Heath ignored the single drop of moisture falling from its corner while he gathered his legs under his body, pushing his lower half into the air on weakened limbs. Heaving for air from his opened mouth, the blond waited until the stance didn’t feel so foreign before moving his head slowly along with the upper half of his body.

“Ah!” groaned the pinkerton at the stark protest running through him as he rested his swaying unbalanced body on his quivering forearm.

He relished the idea of simply laying down and bequeathing his fate to the inhabitants of the woods around him. Internally down in the chasm which was his soul, down where his true strength lived he felt the protest begin. He couldn’t go with his tail between his legs like a kicked dog, not when Jacks had valiantly risked his own life for his. His movement was born of instinct and an abrupt need to find the man who had become of the hero of the day.

Dragging his forearm back closer to his knees grinding into the soil beneath them, Heath found he couldn’t straighten wholly after painstakingly pushing his upper half up. He knelt clutching his right arm at the elbow to hold it against his chest while bent over slightly at the waist and sucking in shallow breaths of oxygen.

The area all around him was still save for the natural sounds of life. Birds chirped and the gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the trees, brushing through his strands of hair that weren’t hardened and stiffened by blood. From his bowed head, he scanned the area with an eye glazed and slow, stopping at the mount saddled and tied to a bush.

Touching the corner of his swollen lips with his tongue, he stared at the sixteen high horse as if he were a vulture waiting for his morning meal to heave its last breath of life. He could feel his mouth water as if the equine were an oasis in a desert he was crawling across. It was a source of salvation which lay within his grasp and yet, it loomed upward as tall as a mountain with peaks that caressed the clouds above.

With each minute movement, his being reminded him of his boundaries and restrictions. Relegated by the knowledge he didn’t have the physical stamina required to scale the mountain, the agent turned his eye away from the horse, back to ground level and his throbbing reality.

Looking for a lower handhold to get him onto his unwilling legs, Heath released his hold on his injured limb and slid his hand down his black clothed leg until his palm was back on the ground. Like a youngster craving to become mobile, the blond scooted himself forward an inch at a time on his knees, stopping after every movement that sent lightning bolts of hurt.

Reaching the object at the end of his uneven line of advance, Heath wrapped his left arm around the trunk of a small tree and gently leaned his damp head against the rough bark. Holding onto the natural pole, he closed his eye and hissed for air. He clutched onto the tree by tightening his left arm when the weakness washing over him increased in its ferocity.

“No.”

The word spoken in the barest of volume was muffled and unrecognizable by the damage from his face. He couldn’t stop the world from spinning out of control or his arm from losing its fierce grip on the trunk of the tree. He was in his cushion of blackness before his body hit the ground and rolled down the small incline hidden from his prior scan of the area. The sound which shattered the quiet of the forest ceased as his body come to a stop, laying still in a boneless heap.

Chapter 33

The afternoon sun would soon lower behind the peaks of the roofs in Stockton and Agent Mickey Flanagan sighed in frustration from his position across the street from the saloon. As much as he recognized keeping a watch on those they were after was part of the job it was nonetheless disheartening when his target made no move.

Shielded by some stacked up crates, he had an unobstructed view through the large front window of the drinking establishment. Mickey could see the big goliath Turkelson hadn’t moved from the table where he sat playing solitaire and occasionally sipping on his beer. The irish immigrant had to stifle his irritation which sprang upwards again at the man who was calmly passing the day while his friend’s life hung in the balance. Heath was not a stranger to tough situations and Mickey deduced he must have been hurt for them to get him out of the town jail with no one the wiser.

This surveillance was getting them no closer to their missing team member and he shifted on the hard seat again. The brown haired man knew if his fellow agent were here now his blue eyes would be sparkling with amusement. Mickey could almost hear his friend’s soft drawl in his ears as he tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair he had propped up against the corner of the general mercantile.

‘Pretend you’re fishing Mickey. All’s you gotta do is sit quiet and still. Wait for the fish to take the bait.’

A slow smile spread across the tanned face as the past years of memories fought out against each other to come to the forefront. So many good times and so many bad. Though the good outweighed the bad he wouldn’t have traded a single memory of working on different assignments with Heath for all the gold coming from and still in the Lodi mine.

Frowning at the dark thoughts seeping into his head, Mickey felt his stomach entwine in knots at the idea they wouldn’t find Heath in time. The man knew the odds were not in the favor of his blond friend. Statistically when an officer of the law finds himself in the hands of the other side, death seemed to be inevitable and the majority of times, it was swift.

Shivering against the mathematical equation, the brown haired man thrust down the bile rising into his throat. If Heath couldn’t beat the odds, Mickey knew he wouldn’t want to be the agent responsible for notifying Heath’s next of kin. He knew nothing of the Barkleys and they in his estimation didn’t even qualify as family since they weren’t there during Heath’s life. No, the next of kin he wouldn’t want to notify would be the old man in Strawberry. A hard old man he was, tough as nails but Heath meant everything to him even though he’d never come right out and ever admit it. All you had to do was see his eyes when the blond walked in the room to know what was in the old man’s heart.

Pushing all of his wandering thoughts to the side, Mickey lowered the front legs of the chair and rolled a cigarette, using his nail to ignite a match. His eyes watched intently as the body language of the large giant abruptly changed and he grabbed the shirt of the man who stood over speaking to him. The smaller man’s face was loaded with fear and his head shook negatively several times before he was thrown back a couple feet from a mighty shove before the giant stood up.

Mickey casually inhaled on the cigarette as Turk left the place he’d been all day and turned to head down the boardwalk while the man who reported to him went the opposite way. Waiting til he was sure the large man wouldn’t see him in his peripheral vision, the agent climbed to his feet and untied the reins of his horse from the rail.

Leading the chestnut down the street, he shadowed Turk til he entered the Hardesty Hotel. Taking up a position in the shadow of an alley after tying his horse a few feet away, Mickey felt his heart skip a beat when the man who’d been speaking to Turk in the saloon rode up in front of the hotel with a second horse in tow.

Duke rode beside Nick and kept a close eye on the man he knew must be hurting like the devil. Though the rancher didn’t say anything, he certainly was not his usual energetic self. The foreman of the Barkley ranch couldn’t help but feel the pride welling up inside him from the man he rode beside. Many thought the son of Tom Barkley who ran the ranch wasn’t as smart as his older brother. They would be surprised to find out they were wrong.

They hastily jumped to judgment based on Nick’s preference to toil away in all kinds of weather conditions, to work in the outdoors over being locked inside in a building. The hazel eyed man could do his fair share and more of the work handed out daily to the ranch crew. Nick instinctively lead by example and used his own knowledge to further develop the ranch since the untimely death of his father.

Beneath all the bravado and swaggering, Nick had an endless supply of knowledge he stored inside. Duke personally knew the man devoured any kind of information he could find on breeding, planting, orchards and anything else which could be a benefit on the ranch. Nick had a love of science and liked to find ways to apply it to their work. He was known to read any scientific magazine or document he could get his hands on.

Simply because Nick thrived by taxing his physical body everyday didn’t mean he allowed the muscle between his ears to relax. No, he was every bit as smart as Jarrod…just in a different area of interest and expertise.

It was Nick who showed up at the bunkhouse with a rolled up map in his gloved hand. After a quick informative speech which stunned his crew he asked for volunteers. The rancher had grinned his sincere appreciation when all present raised a hand. Then Nick unveiled the map to reveal a pattern of search drawn in squares by a pencil and broken down by sections. The sections were small enough to be managed by two men on horseback thus greatly increasing the area they could search by splitting up the entire ranch crew.

It was the hazel eyed son who meticulously thought out each piece of the puzzle as he knew it and lead the way off the ranch. It was Nick who decided they should start the search north of Stockton since the men who knew of his brother’s whereabouts were also after the gold coming from the northern town of Lodi.

Duke stopped when Nick halted Coco and took the map from the inside of his vest. Taking in a breath and crossing off the area they’d just finished, the intense hazel eyes studied the map for a minute before handing it to Duke.

“Let’s take the section by the ridge.”

“Nick, that’s rough country in some spots.” Said Duke quietly as he handed back the map. “Sure you’re up to it?”

Glancing sideways, Nick nodded once and refolded the map. He was paining as much as a sore backed horse but he’d rather be here than sitting at home with the females of the family.

“Duke, do you want me to get stuck with making wedding preparations?” chided Nick after taking a swallow from his canteen and wiping his mouth. “That’d be cruel and inhumane punishment.”

Chuckling, Duke held up a hand in surrender, “I get your point boss, lead on.”

An hour later both men were diving off their horses for cover when a bullet whistled over their heads. Falling onto the ground behind a deadfall, Nick tried to bite back the groan of pain caused by the unexpected landing.

“You okay?” asked Duke studying the profile of his boss.

“Yeah, the ground isn’t as soft as it looks.” Hissed Nick, narrowed eyes studying the trees from where the shot came. “You see anything?”

“No…wait…there!” pointed out Duke at the man they caught a fleeting glance of through the brush and who was heading away from them.

“Let’s go.” Commanded Nick.

Pushing himself up and taking off after the ambusher who tried to part their hair by using a piece of lead, Nick’s eyes flared with anger and narrowed with focus as he headed down the same path with Duke right on his heels.

Chapter 34

The air he was gulping burned his chest and his eyes darted in their sockets. The woods around him seemed to be deepening with shadows and the hand holding his gun shook. He stood behind a wide tree trying to stop the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Fear for the pinkerton agent lying helpless and relying on him back at camp was his motivator. That same fear which caused him to fire on the two strangers coming too near for his comfort had him pulling the trigger in hopes of warning them away from the area. He couldn’t be sure they were with Turk and he couldn’t be sure they weren’t.

After he took off from the spot where they dove for cover, his eyes widened when he realized they were chasing after him. He hadn’t thought they’d start out right away…he had hoped they would have taken a cautious approach…he’d been wrong.

Wiping a hand across his forehead, Jacks was torn between what to do. Try to take care of the men who were probably drawing nearer with each step or sneak back to the camp and try to get out of there with Con. Debating only a matter of seconds with himself, the rodeo rider holstered his gun and worked his way through the brush before running full out.

Bent over Jacks heaved for air as he burst into the campsite, his eyes widening as he took in the empty spot where the agent had been. Frantically looking around he dashed from one side of the small spot to another, spinning around and looking about in confusion again before hurrying over to his standing horse. Not seeing the injured man in the immediate area, his stomach clenched with panic.

“Con?” called Jacks in a low voice not daring to outwardly shout. “Thomson? CON!”

Moving towards the trees to search the outlying area around the camp, he froze at the sound of a click from the area to his left.

“Hold it, mister!” snarled a deep voice before it demanded. “Why are you trying to kill us?”

“I wasn’t.” countered Jacks feeling his pistol being removed from its holster by another man as the one on his left neared. “I thought you were going to rob me.”

“We were just riding.” Snapped Nick, his back hurting something fierce with the unexpected dive for cover and foot race. “We’re not thieves!”

“Nick…look at this.” Said Duke, kneeling beside the empty blankets and holding up a bloody piece of material and the cut cloth from a black suit.

Two large hands grabbed the short barrel chested man and shook him, “Where is he?”

Swallowing at the rage in the man’s eyes, Jacks stammered, “I don’t know who you’re talking about, mister!”

“Heath Thomson, the pinkerton!” relayed Nick as he glared at the smaller man in his grip.

“Who?” asked Jacks, his head rocking back and forth from the renewed shaking of his body by the large man.

“Where is he?” repeated Nick loudly.

“I don’t know who you want!” snapped Jacks, his eyes darting nervously in their sockets.

“I’m gonna ask you one more time.” Threatened Nick. “Where’s Thomson!”

“Go to hell!” retorted Jacks, stomping his heel down on Nick’s instep.

Howling with the sudden burst of pain, Nick released his hold on the other man’s shirt and limped a step. Jacks pulled the one called Nick between himself and his partner by the blankets before running into the trees. Entering the woods, he let out a startled cry as he fell down the incline and rolled down the hidden drop. Crying out at the bone in his leg he heard snap, the bald headed man’s eyes filled with tears before he came to a hard stop.

Groaning at the searing pain in his leg, Jacks heard the men above him coming. Looking around for an avenue of escape, his eyes fell upon the blond laying under a bush. Pulling himself over, he grabbed a hold of the filthy bloody shirt of the unconscious pinkerton and gasped as he tried to pull them both away from the area.

Defeated at the lack of his ability to save the pinkerton or himself, Jacks laid his head on the ground when the two strangers appeared and prepared to meet his maker.

“HEATH!” shouted both men, the concern in their words causing Jacks to stare in disbelief as each knelt beside the agent.

“Heath.” Called Nick to the blond as he leaned over him before glancing to Duke. “Get the doc out here and a wagon. Bring the sheriff for that guy.”

“I’ll send some of the boys too.” Stated Duke, easily climbing the hill even in his advanced years. Nick turned his attention to the man beside him and he felt a tinge of fear at the stillness in Heath.

“You know Con? You’re not here to retake him? Are you a pinkerton?” asked Jacks, trying to move and gasping at the surge of pain in his limb.

“He’s my brother.” Offered Nick, dabbing at the cut which reopened on the side of the blond’s face again before moving to Jacks and running his hands over the injured leg when he knew there was nothing further he could do for Heath. “Who are you?”

“Jackson Martin.” Replied Jacks before biting his lip at the hands on his leg, continuing between groans of pain. “Jacks…I rode the…circuit with…Heath.”

“You did this to him?” demanded Nick staring into the pain filled eyes of the older man.

Shaking his head slightly, Jacks swallowed at the promise he saw in the hazel eyes before whispering the name of the man who sent fear through him, “No, not me. Daley Carson did it. Carson worked for Turk…Jediah Turkelson.”

“Worked?” repeated Nick.

“Carson’s…dead….I…killed…’em.” Stated Jacks, his eyes closing at the darkness he’d been fighting to keep free of.

“That leaves Turk for me.” Said Nick turning his eyes from the unconscious older man to the younger one who still hadn’t moved. The loss of stamina suddenly left him feeling his own physical ailment and he wiped a hand across his weary features before placing it on the blond’s arm. “We’ll have you out of here soon, Heath. Soon.”

Chapter 35

Slowly Turk’s eyes lost the fury which darkened his orbs when Smithy came to him in the saloon. The man had gone to the cabin where Carson was holding Con to bring him supplies and returned to report finding a dead body instead. The small man described the damage to Carson’s head and the empty cabin. The only sign of the pinkerton being there were the cut ropes lying in the puddle of dried blood.

The eyes in the massive man had changed to a glistening piece of green ice scanning the trail before him. Turk could see all the careful planning, the dreams of inconceivable wealth slowly become only a fleeting glance in his head. It had taken infinite care to painstakingly put all the factors in place.

As always in the past, he took great pains to research and plan for every eventuality. He tried to circumvent any unforeseen event before each job. He thrived on the challenge of dissecting every small detail, weighing the cost of everything involved and creating a plan based on his research.

Part of his research was learning what he could about a town and its lawmen, its citizens. He remembered all too well the destruction of the Dalton gang by the citizens of Coffeyville, Kansas. The gang had no idea their fates were sealed that day when they went up against the citizens of their hometown. The gang was literally riddled with bullets as they tried to carry out their plan and become even more famous.

Turk wasn’t looking to be famous, he was looking to be wealthy to the point of being able to retire on a great estate and take his place amongst the law abiding citizens of the world. With enough money, he could last out his days ruling over an empire made upon the blood and sweat of others while he basked under a cloak of good.

It was his knack for research and the knowledge of who were Stockton’s most prominent family that had him request a back order of Stockton newspapers. He like most people who were familiar with the Barkley name knew the family had interests in a vast majority of successful ventures. They had what he wanted and he had no reservations about taking it.

He started planning the heist of the gold train three months ago, one month after a certain blond haired suit wearing man appeared on the rodeo circuit. Shaking his head, Turk remembered how drawn to the blond he’d been and found himself scowling.

Yes, he’d been suspicious of the new comer and his men watched the blond’s every move but the man made no wrong turn. He simply rode the circuit with them and slowly ingratiated himself in with those who were not under Turk’s thumb. Continental…Thomson hadn’t asked questions, he simply went about his business as the others did. The blond’s mystic and puzzlement to Turk disappeared one night…compliments of a newspaper article over two years old.

He would never forget reading the article and how hard it was for him to not order the pinkerton agent’s death that night. Now, in hindsight, perhaps that would have been the smartest thing to do. He should have dealt with the threat then instead of seeking to have some enjoyment by playing with the cool blond agent. He had to admit he did relish their double meaning talks and smiled at the nimble mind the undercover lawman possessed.

Too bad, the pinkerton agent didn’t know one of his cousins, actually step cousin from his father’s third marriage, had taken residence in Stockton and landed a job as a deputy. Lady luck had really stroked him with that one since initially he sent Michael to secure employment on the Barkley ranch to gain whatever information he could. The kid who had dreams of his own for quick wealth had readily accepted, grateful his cousin believed in him.

He hadn’t planned on murdering the kid but the opportunity presented itself and he was after all, an opportunistic person. At the time it seemed like a perfect way to put a shadow of suspicion on the undercover agent and keep the local law busy with an escaped murderer. He played his part and helped the rumblings in the community of the town grow with a few well placed words.

Everything was perfect….til today….til the pinkerton was somehow able to escape and kill Carson….an unforeseen circumstance he found he hadn’t even planned for…..

Pulling off to the side of the trail, Mickey stood in the shadows of the gathering night, his gun in his hand waiting as the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. His finger tightened on the trigger and he literally grunted his relief at the fading light ricocheting off the metal on his follower’s chest.

“What the hell are you doing?” hissed the pinkerton stepping behind the man on the horse.

“Following you trailing them.” Answered Fred gruffly waiting for the agent to come up from behind him.

Mickey stopped beside the sheriff and scowled, “You could’ve gotten yourself killed, Sheriff.”

“So could you.” Retorted Fred as he returned the scowl with one of his own. “This is my jurisdiction, agent. You going off on your own isn’t helping anyone.”

“That may be your town…” said Mickey gesturing behind them to the place they’d left miles back. “but this is our investigation, Sheriff. He’s our prey and Thomson’s our agent.”

“Well now seems we have two different points of view, doesn’t it?” queried Fred in a low voice. “Thomson’s my escaped prisoner til I find out what happened and Turkelson is my suspect’s friend. We’re both looking for the same thing, Flanagan, just going about it differently.”

The shadows hid the smirk he could hear in the sheriff’s words and Mickey mumbled under his breath at the man beside him. Cutting off any more attempt at conversation by starting his horse forward with the sheriff quickly catching up.

The brown haired man shook his head and grudgingly, although silently, admitted he welcomed the other lawman’s unexpected presence. The pinkerton was able to hang back and follow the two men from Stockton since they were not making any attempt to conceal their leaving. Turkelson seemed on set on a purpose and Mickey could only surmise what brought about this sudden ride.

He hoped against hope that it had to do with Heath somehow throwing a kink into the head man’s plans. As much as he wanted to assume this was the reason for the day’s ride, the agent knew the chances of it were slim to none. Taking a breath to squelch down the flare up of hope, he moved the thoughts back into the recesses of his mind and knew no amount of conjecture would solve anything. When they discovered what Turk was heading for….they would know.

Chapter 36

“MOTHER! MOTHER!”

Victoria and Audra rushed down the hallway of the second floor of the mansion while Silas scurried in from the kitchen at the loud voice filled every corner of the lower level.

“Jarrod?” stated Victoria, questioning her eyes that visualized the son who entered with the loud greeting.

Stopping on his way to the study, Jarrod looked up towards the balcony and smiled quickly, “There you are, Mother. I’m leaving for a few days to catch the gold train. I met one of the pinkerton agents who are here with Heath at Paul’s house. The real shipment is coming by train but I’m going to ride out to the fake one. Billy’s there Audra so I’ll give him your love, okay? Mother, will you let Nick know I’ll be up to talk to him shortly?”

“Nick’s not here, Jarrod.” Called out Victoria at the back of her son disappearing into the side door while ascending the staircase with her daughter beside her.

Stalking back into the foyer, the questioning blue eyes found hers and his voice raised in anger. “For the love of…..you let him go, Mother?”

“I guess I could have tied him down to his bed.” Suggested Victoria, her gray eyes flashing with fire at her first born questioning her. “First we would have had to knock Nick out though so we could get the ropes on him.”

Audra bit her lip and looked down at the hands clasped in front of her. Her eldest brother’s face had turned a shade of red from the tone of their mother’s voice. Jarrod was thrown back to other times he had stoked the ire in his mother with a raised tone. At those times he felt the same as he did now and he smiled sheepishly, the suave exterior of the attorney falling away and a son replaced it instead.

“I’m sorry, Mother.” Apologized Jarrod with a nod and a wink. “You’re right, Mother. The last thing we need is a grouchy Nick with a concussion on top of everything else.”

Unable to control herself Audra burst out into giggles and smirked despite the look of disapproval thrown her way. The blonde couldn’t stop her laughter and her shoulders shook uncontrollably. Victoria simply shook her head and caught Jarrod’s eye with a raised brow.

“You’ll have to excuse your sister, Jarrod. She’s a little overwhelmed from learning all about what happens between a man and a woman today in preparation for her honeymoon.”

“MOTHER!” shrieked Audra, her hands flying up to cover the fiery red on her cheeks before turning to fly up the staircase in a quite unladylike run. “REALLY!”

“I don’t even want to know, Mother.” Groused Jarrod with a negative shake of his head. “I’ve barely gotten over the fact my baby sister is going to be married in a matter of months.”

Victoria took her oldest son’s face in her hands and placed a kiss on his forehead, “She’s grown into a fine young woman, Jarrod.”

Drawing his mother into a hug, Jarrod relished the moment of maternal love wrapping around his heart and he sighed, “That she is, Mother. That she is.”

Patting the strong back of her son, Victoria pulled back and left her hands on his forearms, studying the bruised features. “Nick told the men about Heath and they all wanted to help him search. He said they possibly wouldn’t be back til later tonight.”

“Are you saying Nick told the men Heath is our brother?” queried Jarrod.

“I wasn’t there of course…” stated Victoria with a shrug. “I assume so, Jarrod. You’ll have to ask him yourself. Now, what is this about two gold trains?”

Victoria allowed her son to escort her to the study as he spoke, relaying his afternoon spent in town in the company of one Kate Warne, pinkerton agent. Loading the rifle while he talked, Jarrod was unaware of the extra twinkle in his eye and Victoria’s slight smile at the sight of it.

“Nick’s thinking everything with Heath is just a distraction and perhaps they’ll somehow use him when they get to the gold train.” Stated Jarrod with a deep frown. “Barter him, maybe? I don’t know.”

“What did Agent Warne think?” questioned Victoria.

“Agent Warne agrees with Nick’s theory. She thinks it’s a plausible reason for the jail escape and the deputy’s murder. Perhaps they hoped it would keep Fred and the other agents busy trying to find Heath instead of focusing on the matter at hand. Unfortunately for Heath, his fellow agents stuck to their first priority, the job they were assigned to handle. He is second on their list.” Admitted Jarrod quietly.

“It doesn’t sound good for Heath.” Whispered Victoria surprised at the dread of losing the blond who they turned away two years ago filling her.

Jarrod caught the slight tremor in his mother’s voice and nodded slowly, “I know, Mother but we can’t give up. We can’t lose him now that we know where he should be. We need to keep thinking positively.”

Shivering against the creepy sense of fear rising up her spine, Victoria took a deep breath and raised her chin, “Of course, Jarrod. There is always hope and we must never lose sight of that.”

Jacks nodded and bit back the groan at the searing pain in his lower leg when the bigger man took hold of him under the armpits. Clenching his jaw against the pulling of the few stitches in his back, Nick dug his heels in and dragged the rodeo rider up the small incline. The makeshift splint on the lower leg aligning the fractured bone together could do nothing for the pain.

The fading light of the day was quickly darkening the area where the two injured men lay and Nick knew he could wait no longer for Duke to return with the men. He needed to get the two up the incline and prepared for when the wagon arrived.

The incline wasn’t steep but it was loaded with mother nature’s natural discards, branches, rocks and deadfalls which had to be negotiated to ensure as smooth a climb as possible for the injured man. The rancher knew the man in his hands was trembling from agony more than from the coming night’s temperature. The climb was torturous on the older man and Nick tried what he could to make it less painful.

Pulling Jacks into the campsite, Nick bit back his own moan of agony as he gently reclined the injured man against a deadfall. Wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, Nick took in the pinched white lines around the trembling man’s mouth and knelt down to squeeze his shoulder.

“I’ll be right back with Heath.” Stated Nick after the lids of Jacks’ eyes opened. Jacks tried to offer a smile of encouragement to the dark haired man but was unable to when the darkness stole him away.

Biting back a gasp when he forced himself to stand after building a small fire, Nick took in several breaths and willed the pain to reside. Hazel eyes filled with determination and he entered the trees, skirting the obstacles til he reached his brother’s side.

Reaching forward to pull Heath to a sitting position, Nick was caught unaware at the hand fumbling at his arm and the groan of pain. Bending his head closer, he couldn’t see if his eyes were opened and he pulled out a match, striking it against the coarse material of his jeans.

The flare up of light in the place where darkness had only been caused the blond to groan and turn his head away, his one eye blinking slowly to fight the automatic response of tearing at the brightness.

“Heath. Heath.” Prompted Nick in a low voice, holding the match further away to alleviate the harshness of its flame as he watched the blond head turn towards his voice. “We need to get you out of here. Understand?”

The brutal reminder on the face of the blond from his time in forced captivity and the sling around his neck holding the dislocated member in place tore at Nick’s heart. The swelling was black and monstrous in appearance. The rancher knew the chest and stomach of the blond bore bruising also from what he’d been able to see while waiting for the wagon.

The left eye shifted lazily to study him in the glow of light and Nick could see the question beyond the glaze of pain. Touching another match to the dying flame, Nick smiled and reached over to touch Heath’s face. His smile faded at the instinctive flinching of the helpless man away from the oncoming hand.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Heath.” Reassured Nick softly, cupping his right hand gently against the side of his brother’s face before adding firmly. “Trust me, little brother.”

Nick watched Heath’s left eye move downward as if trying to keep focus on the hand he felt lightly resting on his cheek before shifting slowly up to meet his. He leaned forward and tried to decipher the muffled sounds coming from the man’s battered face.

“No.”

It took several attempts for Heath to get the muffled single word to be recognized and he let out a groan of anguish from the protesting of the muscles in his face. Hearing it clearly on the third attempt, Nick glanced up sharply to study the battered face and the slit of blue under the half closed eyelid. He knew he and the family deserved to be cut off at the knees after all they’d done and he started to speak only to see the blond was unconscious once more.

Chapter 37

The thin layering of clouds moved off to allow the light of the full moon to stream across the California land. The renewed source of light in the darkness of the night did nothing to stem the muttered curses of the brown haired pinkerton. Fred shook his head and shifted on his saddle watching Mickey Flanagan shaking a clenched fist to the moon.

“Couldn’t come out earlier, could you?” retorted Mickey, frustration barely winning out over the panic of losing the trail of the two men in the darkness. “Sonofa….”

“Agent, it’s probably best if we head back to town.” Stated Fred interrupting the stream of swearing he knew would be renewed. “We lost them and have no idea where to look. We can pick their trail up tomorrow.”

Mickey hung his head slightly and let his shoulders sag with defeat at the practical sense in the sheriff’s words. Though he knew the words to be the gospel truth of the situation, he couldn’t stop the surge of helplessness mixed with fear rising within. Against the strong need to find his fellow agent and friend, he found himself silently nodding in agreement and reluctantly mounting. Turning his horse and pointing it south, the pinkerton rode quietly beside the sheriff and permitted his mind to torture him with what ifs on the ride back to Stockton. Every dead end they happened upon, every brick wall they ran into was unfortunately another opportunity for the hammer to fall and drive another nail into the coffin he envisioned surrounding Heath.

Smithy stayed in the doorway of the ramshackle building, nervously watching his mammoth leader carefully take in every inch of the cabin by the lantern’s harsh light. The place was exactly as he’d found it this afternoon complete with the body of Daley Carson stiff from rigor mortis.

The large man knelt beside his former right hand man, leaning over and studying the fatal blow to the deceased’s head. Picking up the heavy frying pan, Turk turned it over and casually examined the bit of flesh and blood stuck to its bottom before scanning the area around his dead man.

“Somebody helped Thomson escape. He took him from me.” Declared Turk, in a voice loaded with a cold fury before throwing the pan across the floor and standing.

“How…uh…do you figure that boss?” queried Smithy, the anxiety he felt with being in the ruthless man’s presence causing him to screech his words.

“There’s another set of prints in the blood.” Informed Turk gesturing to the fluid which ran out of Carson’s body before he was yanked from this world by the hand of the grim reaper.

“They’re too small for it to be Thomson. Besides I told Carson he could have his fun as long as he didn’t kill Con. Carson always liked that part of his work and he was good at it. No, Thomson wouldn’t be in any shape to get out of the ropes and escape once Daley got going. I almost feel sorry for the poor bastard.” Smirked Turk.

“Boss, the pinkerton could be back in Stockton! Talking to the law!” stammered Smithy, his eyes wide with fear of being captured by their legal enemies. “We gotta get outta here!”

“We will leave but not without the gold. We’re going ahead as planned.” Countered Turk firmly.

“But…”

“But what?” asked Turk with narrowed eyes, effectively closing down any more arguments from the skinny man.

“Uh….nothing.” whispered Smithy letting out a sigh of relief when Turk’s tightened muscles relaxed and he brushed by.

“We’ll find somewhere to camp tonight and meet up with the men tomorrow.” Instructed Turk mounting and gesturing to the cabin. “Burn it so they won’t know it’s Carson.”

Nodding, the thin man went back in the cabin and spread the contents from a kerosene can around the room, liberally dousing the corpse with it before moving to the doorway with some paper he grabbed from the kindling box. Lighting a match to the pieces of wood pulp, he tossed the enflamed papers into a puddle of liquid watching it hungrily race across the shack in all directions before going to his horse and mounting.

Turk took one last look at the interior of the cabin, holding his horse steady with a firm hand on the reins. Watching the inside of the building disintegrate before his eyes, the ringleader turned his horse and started away at a cantor with Smithy following.

Nick fed more sticks into the small fire, glancing occasionally between the two men under his care. It had taken longer for him to get his brother up the incline since he was heavier than the smaller man, Jacks. He could feel one of the stitches input by Dr. Merar tear and he knew he would catch hell the next time he saw the family physician.

Taking the canteen he filled from a small creek over to Jacks when he saw the bald headed man’s eyes open, he held it to his lips and gave the paining man a healthy drink.

Wiping his hand across his mouth, Jacks sighed at the cool water and nodded, “Thanks.”

“Duke should be here soon with the wagon and the doc.” Informed Nick quietly, watching the brown eyes turn towards Heath who lay propped up in a sitting position four feet away. “He’s sleeping or passed out…not sure which one.”

“He looks worse than death warmed over.” replied Jacks with a grimace when he moved and his broken limb protested with a sharp bolt of pain. “I should’ve gotten him away from Carson sooner.”

“You did what you could.” Assured Nick off handedly, keeping his eyes on the man they spoke about.

“No, I wasted too much time trying to decide if I should do something or not. Daley had more time to use his boots to him.” Offered Jacks with shame. “If it had been me who Daley had….Con wouldn’t have hesitated. He wouldn’t have debated and been afraid. He wouldn’t waste any time.”

“The important thing is you did get him away Jacks.” Stated Nick with a shake of his head. “If you’d left him and didn’t ‘do anything, he might be dead by now.”

Taking in a lungful of air, Jacks fell into thought and stared into the fire. Nick pushed himself up, walking tentatively at the painful reminder of the injury on his lower back. Lowering himself beside the blond, he saw the pained blue orb watching him as he unscrewed the cap to the canteen. Holding it to the battered lips of his newest brother, Nick gave him a small sip waiting to be sure it settled before letting him have any more. Picking up his black neck cloth, he wet it liberally with the water and held it to the vile side of Heath’s face.

“Your upper back is as bruised as the rest of you.” Stated Nick softly, keeping the single eye locked on his. “I thought it would feel better this way. Keep you off the sore parts. I know it hurts to talk…I think that sonofabitch fractured your jaw, Heath. How about if you blink one for yes and two for no. Okay?”

Heath stared at the man who was level with his face and ran the spoken words through the fog in his head. Hearing the command from Nick again, he blinked once and heard the relief as the rancher continued talking.

“Good…that’s good. I was worried with your head injury and all.” Admitted Nick with a slight shake of his head. “Does your back feel better this way?”

One slow blink.

“Stomach okay for now?”

One slow blink.

“I rewrapped your shoulder tighter, is that better?”

One slow blink.

“The doc’s on his way with Duke and a wagon. I know you don’t trust me…us…Heath and you got no reason to…..we can worry about all that later.” Said Nick fumbling for words as he rewet the cloth and placed it delicately against the battered face before making sure he had the blond’s focus.

“Do you believe me when I say I want to help you?”

Nick waited with breath held for what seemed an agonizing minute before the eyelid on the blond moved slowly. A single blink and no other had Nick shake his head positively, swallowing several times before asking the next question.

“The ranch is closer than Stockton, can I take you and Jacks there when the wagon gets here?”

Chapter 38

Fred wasn’t sure what made him glance back in the direction they were heading away from. Pulling up on his reins, his loud exclamation brought the pinkerton agent out of his self-imposed torture. Looking at the horizon filling with light, Fred didn’t hesitate or wait for Mickey before galloping towards the glow he knew to be a fire.

Mickey was only a half length behind the older man taking a direct line to the orange glow in the dark sky. His heart was pounding with exhilaration and dread of what they’d find at the end of the gallop. It only took minutes to reach the shack engulfed in flame and both men looked at each other with lips thinned out against anger. They both knew at that moment they had been closer than they initially thought to the two men they followed from Stockton.

Unable to save the wooden structure and anyone who may have been inside, Fred used the bright light of the fire to scour the ground after handing his reins to the pinkerton. The loud fire downed out all sounds save for the crying of the wood it was disintegrating. The flames lit up the shadows around with the light reaching out as far as it could.

“That way.” Stated Fred taking back his reins and mounting. “We’ll have to come back after the fire’s out, Flanagan. To see if anyone was inside.”

Mickey reached down and took the rifle out of its scabbard before nodding once, “Let’s find them, sheriff.”

“Alive, Flanagan. Remember he may be the only one who can clear your agent. So, you want him alive.”

“He’ll be just alive enough to talk.” Assured Mickey, his brown eyes hardening with eagerness and vengeance. “You don’t need kneecaps to talk or the use of your shoulders. All you need is to still be breathing and a tongue.”

Fred cast one final glance at the lawman who eyes were burning as hot as the shack before starting off again. The shack had been abandoned years ago when a farmer who tried to leave his mark in the dirt ended up with himself in the dirt after coming down sick. It was off the beaten path and a perfect place to hold up, away from prying eyes. Fred said a prayer for the man who’d brought in Tom Barkley’s murderers, hoping the blond pinkerton hadn’t been in the shack when the fire was set.

Following the tracks which had headed north, Fred frowned and shook his head. Why are they heading away from Stockton? If Thomson was in the fire, he was silenced forever and couldn’t finger anyone.

“I think they’re still planning on taking the gold!” stated Mickey suddenly to the man on his left watching the gray head bob in agreement. “This guy’s gotta be nuts….or desperate.”

“Nuts or desperate….both are bad. Means he won’t stop til he gets what he wants.” Replied Fred dryly turning his mind back to those they were seeking and scanning the night hoping to catch a glimpse of a fire or horse under the light of the full moon.

Hazel eyes watched the lid close once and then within the span of a hair’s width, another followed.

No.

The denial was glaringly clear to the rancher as if he had heard the word spoken in his ear. Nick took a breath to fight the unexpected pain in his heart caused by the denial springing from the shaky foundation built on a lack of trust.

“Heath…” stated Nick unclenching the hands he had made into fists while he’d waited for the blinks of the eye. “I know you got reason but don’t let our personal history cloud your good sense.”

The blue eye staring back at him flared with anger and Nick reached forward to place a hand on the injured man’s chest, stopping the sudden movement he sensed coming from the pinkerton.

“Listen to me for a minute.” Commanded Nick waiting til he felt the muscles under his hand relax slightly. “You and Jacks aren’t in any shape to ride further than need be. You won’t be able to help protect the gold now anyway. Besides the sheriff’s looking for you. The town thinks you’re an escapee from jail…and a wanted murderer.”

The distress reflected in the blue orb took the wind out of Nick’s lungs and he shook his head negatively when the alarmed man tried to move, his right hand firmly holding onto Heath’s left shoulder and his left holding the cloth against his face.

“Easy now. We know you didn’t kill anyone but it doesn’t look good for you right now.” Admitted Nick before the lid closed on the eye and re-opened after a minute reflecting a lower level of upset.

“Until we can get word to the other pinkertons, do you want to put Jacks in danger? If he goes to town whose going to protect him with you out of commission? Do you think this Turk guy will be happy about what Jacks did? How do you think he’ll react?” questioned the rancher watching as Heath tried to look around for the bald rodeo rider then groaned when he tried to move his head from where it was laying.

“Jacks is over there with a broken leg. He’s also got a few bruises but other than that, he’s fine. ” Informed Nick gesturing sideways, noting the relief in the blue pool.

“He risked his neck to get you away. You’re not gonna risk his just cause of what’s happened between us, are you? You wouldn’t do that to him, would you? Heath?”

The cool night air was quiet except for the crackling of the small fire and the occasional small moan or gasp of pain from the two injured men. Nick took the cloth away and rewet it, letting the blond’s mind contemplate the questions he had posed. He could feel the confliction and confusion mixed with helplessness radiating off him. He ignored his rush of shame at preying on Heath’s guilt but reasoned it was necessary to combat the stubborn Barkley blood the blond also had flowing through his veins.

Nick could have sworn he heard every muscle and bone in the pinkerton’s body sag from defeat. Defeated by his physical injuries and defeated by his current situation and inability to do his job. He would have liked to just tell the younger man to let his older brother take care of him but he knew that would be like throwing kerosene onto a fire. He could just imagine the response he’d have gotten whether verbally or nonverbally.

“Heath?” prodded Nick, his voice opening the eyelid and he could see the answer clearly. “I promise I’ll talk to the others, Heath. There weren’t be any pressure or anything like that from the family. Getting you and Jacks better comes first. Deal?”

One slow blink.

Nick sighed with relief as he sensed his brother release himself into darkness again and he stifled his own groan of pain when he shifted to sit shoulder to shoulder with him against the deadfall. Taking off his hat and running his hand through his hair, Nick leaned back his head and stared up at the stars overhead, mumbling to himself.

“Where’s Duke and the wagon?”

Chapter 39

He wasn’t sure when his eyes closed but the thought was far from his mind after he was startled awake. Hazel eyes snapped open, his subconscious waking him into awareness before his mind processed the reason. Sound carried far on the still air of the night and he caught the faint noise which had waken him.

The draining light from the fire he’d built cast a low glow til it merged with the shadows. Turning to look at Heath, he saw with a mixture of relief and concern the blond’s eye was closed and he stifled his fear at the low moan rising from the sleeping man who seemed to be struggling against something or someone in his slumber. Climbing to his feet with rifle in hand, his eyes caught the light glistening on the hairless head of Jacks when the rodeo man turned at his movement.

Crossing over, Nick knelt beside the older man and stated in a low quiet voice, “I hear something and I’ll take a look. Make sure you keep this rifle handy…just in case.”

Nodding, Jacks took the Winchester and lay it across his lap. Small dark eyes watched the tall rancher effortlessly ease into the darkness of the woods around their small encampment. Laying on the ground incapacitated by his fractured limb, Jacks gritted his teeth and pushed himself upwards into a sitting position.

Gasping when the movement raked his broken leg across the ground, he fought off the rising sickness from the burst of pain threatening to overtake him and leaned heavily to the side. Swallowing and keeping his nausea to a manageable level, he looked across the small span of space to the blond. A faint noise was coming from the man whose head was moving barely a fraction where it rested against a deadfall before silence fell. Once again he found himself experiencing a surge of protectiveness for the young pinkerton agent who was helpless as a newborn.

Pushing himself back to his sitting position and scanning the shadows with wide eyes, Jacks nervously studied each eerie grotesque shape in the blackness. Shapes solid during the day appeared vastly different with the camouflage of night. The ebony of the shadows played tricks on the eyesight and he tilted his head at a whisper of sound. Tightening his hold on the rifle, his finger found the trigger and he eased back the hammer.

“It’s Nick.” Called out a deep voice and Jacks jumped slightly despite the warning.

“Come on in, Nick.” Answered Jacks in a relieved voice while lowering the hammer of the rifle carefully.

Jacks watched Nick’s form take shape when he stepped from the shadows and crossed to the fire. Adding more wood to build up the light in the camp, Nick gestured to the two men entering only seconds behind him with one holding a lantern.

“Jacks, this is my brother Jarrod and Dr. Merar.” Offered Nick after standing and moving to the two men who made a beeline across the camp and knelt beside the blond.

The hungry flames devoured the dry wood buffet and raised the level of light dramatically. Jarrod gasped out loud at the damage on Heath’s face and tentatively reached out with a trembling hand to touch the unaware man’s left arm. Duke had told them of the pinkerton’s condition and Nick had quickly gave an updated when he met the wagon but neither of the professional men were prepared to be greeted by such a sight of devastation.

“My god.” Whispered Jarrod stunned at the nearly blackened half of his brother’s face and the bruising showing over the front of his body through the opened shirt.

“Nick, how bad is that man’s fracture?” asked Howard as he rolled up his sleeves. “Is it breaking the skin?”

“His name is Jackson Martin….Jacks.” stated Nick. “It felt like a clean break to me, doc. Not much swelling either.”

“Good…that’s good.” Said Howard as he opened his bag and took out a brown bottle. Rummaging around for a spoon, he handed the items over and instructed Nick the dosage to administer before glancing over to the man watching them. “I’ll set your leg shortly, Mr. Martin.”

“It’s fine for now, doc.” Informed Jacks with shake of his head. “You just concentrate on Con…eh…Heath.”

“Con?” repeated Howard turning up the flame on the lantern Jarrod held.

“It’s short for Continental.” Replied Jacks after grimacing at the bitter taste of the laudanum at the puzzled look in the hazel eyes. “On the circuit we gave Heath the moniker of continental cowboy. Cause of the way he always dressed like a dandy. Con for short.”

Smiling slightly into the pained dark eyes, Nick glanced over to where the physician was beginning his examination and sighed. Jacks saw through lids suddenly heavy and threatening to close, the regret and fear in the hazel eyes. Patting the knee of the leg covered in black jeans closest to him, he muttered in a drowsy far away voice.

“Con’s…tougher…than…most...ornery…broncs…bulls….”

Nick felt the fear rising in him lower with the reassurance from the older man and nodded before the eyelids closed. Easing Jacks down onto his back, Nick pulled the blanket up higher on the barrel chest and heard the sounds of footsteps coming.

“Hope he’s not too tough to want to go it alone after this is all over.” Whispered Nick to the man who had been quickly pulled under by the strong pain reliever.

“Set it there.” Commanded Duke to the two men carrying a stretcher between them after he entered the camp he’d left hours before.

Barrett and Ted, two of the ranch crew set the doctor’s stretcher down and stood off to the side out of the way. Neither could help but look curiously at the man who they were told was another son of the great Tom Barkley before their search had started. From where they stood, both could see the value their bosses placed on this new brother. Knowing the types of men they had for bosses, there was no doubt in their minds the injured man was as important to them as their mother and sister back on the ranch.

“Somebody really did a number on him.” Mumbled Howard to himself as he ran his skilled fingers lightly over the frame of the injured agent.

“Jacks found him hogtied and beaten badly by some guy named Daley Carson.” Said Nick quietly and adding in response to his big brother’s unspoken question. “He’s dead.”

Jarrod reached over and squeezed the shoulder of Nick, the warmth of his hand doing very little to chase away the coldness Nick felt inside. Both brothers had seen men beaten as a result of a conflict in a saloon over some careless remark or perhaps in a battle of supremacy for a member of the opposite sex. Neither had ever seen a display of brutality to have caused as much damage as this.

“What do you feel, Howard?” queried Jarrod, holding the left hand of the man who moaned and tried to subconsciously move from the physician’s hands trailing up and down his body.

Shaking his head as he continued, the pepper haired man of medicine let out a breath and caught the eyes of the two anxious men across from him. “He’s got a couple sore ribs. There’s no movement in the bone which is good so no fracture…more than likely they’re bruised. His chest is as bad as his sides and he may have a bruised sternum also.”

“And?” prodded Nick his hands clenching into fists which rested on his thighs.

“His stomach is tender and distended. See this circular bruise here…” pointed out Howard with the tip of his index finger. “He’s bleeding inside now or was at one point…it’s a slow bleeder otherwise he’d be dead by now. We’ll have to monitor it closely….it may warrant surgery later.”

“What about his face and upper back?” asked Nick after taking a deep breath to calm himself.

“The gash running from his eye to his hairline will need stitching, its deep and ragged. The malocclusion of his teeth….the alignment of his upper and lower teeth are not affected and I don’t see any evidence of a cut under his tongue. If there was an outright fracture and I moved his mandible, there would be more fluidity in the movement and even with all this swelling, you’d be able to visually see it. It could be a hairline fracture and until the swelling subsides, we won’t know how for certain.” Stated Howard glancing into the hazel eyes of the dark haired rancher before meeting Jarrod’s. “I don’t think he’ll be up to chewing on a steak for a while but a diet of soft foods and pain medicine will help til we can reexamine it.”

“Now…his upper back is bruised as much as his front and thankfully I don’t feel any crackling in either of his shoulder blades.” Replied Howard in a grateful voice. “This young man won’t be moving too fast for a while and if his abdomen doesn’t give us any problems….he should be back to his full activities in a month or so.”

Jarrod sent a quick prayer to those watching overhead for the prognosis and for the inkling feeling he had that told him to stay the night at the ranch. The little voice whispering in his ear to head out in the morning was the reason he’d been there when Duke frantically rode into the yard.

“Howard, are you concerned he didn’t wake when you were examining him?” questioned Jarrod with a frown.

“There is a bump on the side of his head and he may have a mild concussion though since he was able to follow Nick’s questions and respond….it’s apparently very mild and will be another nuisance he’ll have to deal with. Before we get ready to head to the ranch, I’ll wake him and give him a dose of laudanum to help with the pain. Bed rest will go a long way to getting him back on his feet, boys.”

“Thanks.” Sighed Nick, his own weary face belaying his lower level of full strength and power.

“I’ll set Mr. Martin’s leg and then….” Informed Howard in a firm voice before pointing to Nick. “We’ll be looking at you, Nick Barkley.”

Chapter 40

The duration of time between his brief moments of wakening into a pain filled existence were distorted bits of reality. Tiny glimpses into the shadows of the evening brought no firm pictures in his mind, only shimmering bits. His mind fought to recognize the small fragments his single orb caught. The only constant merging from his shroud of darkness was the consistent agony his body felt. There wasn’t a spot that didn’t protest with each raising of his eyelid he mounted. The only thing keeping him from remaining in the pain free darkness was his nagging sense to fight.

Fight as he always had to overcome those who felt he was less than all others in the community. Fight to ignore the mark branding him because of the stigma left behind by a woman he hadn’t even known. Fight to free himself of the demons resurrected from a past splintered with violence. Fight in the manner he’d grown accustomed to since he took his first breath. Fight to survive….fight merely to live…fight against those who oppressed others…those who took pleasure in the pain of others…fight…fight.

“Don’t move, Heath.” Soothed Jarrod as once again the blond’s rise to a higher plane of consciousness in the back of the wagon brought with it struggle. Kneeling beside the blond in the back of the slow moving wagon, the dark haired prominent lawyer kept his hand firmly on the left arm that was moving as if to lash out. “We’re here to help, Heath. You’re gonna be fine. Just lie still now.”

Nick woke from where he’d drifted off to sleep from the exhaustive events of the day. His torn stitches had been replaced and wrapped by the knowledgeable family physician. Hazel eyes blinked to clear themselves of the fog of confusion upon waking. With two blinks, he recalled climbing into the wagon after the men from the ranch crew carefully lifted the two other injured men into the bed.

In the darkness disappearing with each passing minute, Nick was able to determine Jacks was still oblivious from the dose of pain medicine. The small stocky man with the splinted leg hadn’t moved from where he lay against the side of the wooden frame.

“Jarrod keep wetting him down.” Instructed Howard feeling the damaged abdomen without the benefit of light, letting his skilled fingers tell him what he searched for.

The tone of their old family friend’s voice raised Nick to his knees and he carefully crawled to his big brother’s side. Hazel eyes met the light blues under the light of the lowering full moon before Jarrod glanced back down to the man they’d shunned two years earlier. The brief look was all it took for Nick to see the worry and concern in Jarrod’s eyes.

“What is it?” demanded Nick in a low voice, directing his question to the two men hovering from both sides of the blond who was propped up against a saddle, his head rolling from side to side against the leather seat.

“A fever.” Informed Howard offhandedly while pulling the two halves of the grimy shirt together. “His stomach is more distended.”

“Doc?” prodded Nick when Howard let out a frustrated sigh. “What’s that mean?”

“I’m afraid it more than likely means he has started bleeding inside again, Nick.” Stated Howard with a frown. “Another symptom is the fever that’s risen over the past two hours.”

Reaching out and touching the black clothed leg by him, Nick choked down the lump of fear threatening to cut off his air supply and nodded slowly. The material beneath his fingers was crusted with blood and grime much as the man himself was.

“You gonna operate?” asked Nick in a hushed voice, barely feeling the strong hand of Jarrod squeezing his shoulder at the tremble in his words.

“I may have to, boys.” Admitted Howard after listening to Heath’s stomach with his stethoscope. “How far are we from the ranch?”

“Only ten minutes.” Offered Jarrod releasing Nick’s shoulder to continue wetting the cloth in his hand and placing it on Heath’s forehead. The only cooling measure they had available couldn’t come close to combating the mercury rising upward in the blond’s internal thermometer.

Nick looked to the two ranch crew riding behind the wagon and waved them over. “Barrett, you ride ahead and let our mother know we’re coming in. She’ll need to get ready to help Dr. Merar.”

“Yes, boss.” Stated the short dark haired man before riding around the wagon and urging his horse in a gallop over the familiar terrain.

Nick wiped a hand over his face before rubbing the back of his neck while he studied the pale face of the pinkerton in the moonlight. The light from the circular object in the sky heightened the pallor of the blond and glistened off the beads of perspiration dotting his forehead.

Jarrod gently trailed the cloth down the side of Heath’s face and swallowed a lump of fear. The man who at the camp seemed incapable of moving an inch without pain from the trauma to his body now became increasingly combative as his fever rose. The place Heath was in didn’t allow his body to know the extent of his injuries or how much pain the movements would cause if he were awake.

Words mumbled and garbled from the swollen face couldn’t be deciphered. Enunciation and pronunciation were elements unattainable from the bruised mandible and battered face. No doubt in his fevered mind, the blond was speaking clearly but to those listening no syllable could be distinguished.

To the attorney at law who’d seen more than his share of violence in his lifetime, he didn’t need to clearly hear the words his youngest brother was speaking. He didn’t need Heath to vocalize what he was experiencing in his hot delirium.

Jarrod could gather from the gestures and the emotions flowing from the blond, his brother was struggling against an unseen enemy. Unseen to him and Nick but not unseen in the blond’s current world of fire. In his fevered state even the meekest of enemies could turn monstrous in the hazy fog filling his mind. Since the rise in body temperatures started, the eldest son of Thomas Barkley knew intimately the meaning of dread.

Dread at the blond’s physical state now hampered by the flush appearing on his cheeks. Dread had replaced the relief he’d previously experienced with Howard’s initial diagnosis at the camp. Dread with each new bead of sweat he felt on the blond’s forehead. Dread and fear the younger man would stop fighting and not be able to come back from the fiery depths he was in.

Dread…fear...fright….

Over the past hours, Jarrod Barkley internally fought to keep those three evil mistresses away from his soul and he prayed to the higher beings. Prayed they’d give Heath strength to fight off the inner enemy threatening him. He prayed to calm the rocky seas his brother was in and guide him back into the inlet.

Jarrod prayed the overseer of life itself would grant the younger man a pardon from his flame ridden world. He prayed the overseer would grant Heath at least an opportunity to hear what should have been said two years ago. He prayed for a chance for the blond to hear them out with a mind not clouded from pain or fever. He prayed for the pinkerton agent to be granted freedom from his burning existence to have the liberty to at least deny what they now wanted to offer.

Placing a hand on the sweat ridden forehead, Jarrod glanced up sharply to the physician who was readying his bag as they passed through the front gate.

“It’s gone up!”

Chapter 41

The next fifteen minutes passed in a blur of activity after the injured men were gently carried across the threshold into the large stately mansion as if they’d break from the strong hands. Howard never left the side of the unconscious pinkerton whose strength turned almost herculean in his fractured state of disorientation before he succumbed to the obliterating darkness again.

The physician who attended medical school in the civilization on the eastern coast of their fine country was no stranger to the ailments presented from the world he resided in. The school may have given him a solid base of information but his experiences from practicing in the rough and tumble frontier towns on the western coast refined his skills and honed his instincts.

Much like the men who strutted down the boardwalks of the nameless towns, daring those to take a shot at the chip on their shoulder….Howard Merar’s confidence in his skills gave many a man a chance when they should have met their makers. He’d seen those gravely injured with all their bodies through the pearly gates, save for one hand clinging to the natural world, slowly work themselves back to shortchange the grim reaper.

Many would call them walking miracles and tout his medicinal prowess but he knew it was from the iron in their souls. It took iron and grit to forge a life in a land strewn with violent men and those seeking to use violence to take what they wanted. It took violence to calm storms of violence and he’d witnessed endlessly the aftermath of the clashes.

If it wasn’t man versus man there was also the age old battle of man versus mother nature or man versus beast. It wasn’t unusual to see a cowboy missing a finger from getting it caught in a rope. When this country was at its youngest, many a mountain man who sought out his living in the wilderness yet uncharted had to set his own bones, mend his own wounds and heal himself in the desolate country. Those who came before them and those there now were made of the hardest substance known. Iron wills and a steel fortitude.

Large hands, sure and capable, moved quickly as he talked, advising the family gathered in the room what he needed and what he was about to do. The blond lawman needed the hidden enemy inside him taken care of or he’d be carried out feet first from the room they placed the pinkerton in.

“Victoria, you’ll have to assist me.” Stated Howard taking his silver instruments from his bag to align the tools on a silver tray Silas brought in with the hot water. “Victoria?”

Gray eyes blinked once at her name and Victoria nodded, realizing she’d heard their old family friend even in her deep reverie.

“I’m ready.” Assured the silver haired matriarch as trembling fingers tied an apron around her waist before glancing to the questioning faces of her two sons. “Close the door on the way out.”

“Yes, mother.” Replied both men quietly, afraid for the man laying flat on the bed.

Nick took one last look back silently willing some of his strength to the blond before stepping into the hallway and pulling the door closed. Rubbing a hand down his face, he smiled encouragement to Audra who stood with a face void of color and clinging to Jarrod’s arm.

“He’ll be fine, Audra.” Said Nick with a tired sigh.

Swallowing and fighting the tears in her eyes, Audra couldn’t stop the shaking in her body from the sight of Heath Thomson when the men carried him in. Jarrod drew her closer to him and placed a kiss on her forehead.

“I know he looks bad, honey.” Offered Jarrod as he wrapped his sister in his strong arms. “And no doubt he’ll feel those bruises for a few weeks but he’s tough.”

“He just looks…so…so…horrible.” Whispered Audra struggling to keep her trembling down to a manageable level. “Nick didn’t even look that bad when he was bucked off into the fence and hit the side of his head.”

“That’s because the fence suffered the most damage.” Quipped Jarrod with a wink into the watery blue eyes while Nick scoffed at the giggle coming from their sister.

“It did snap in two like a toothpick.” Added Audra with a sly smile to her hazel eyed brother who stuck out his tongue at her.

Jarrod placed another kiss on her blonde hair and was relieved at the return of color to her high boned cheeks. “Nick, why don’t you rest like Howard wants and I’ll look after Jacks to make sure he’s comfortable.”

“I’ll help you.” Offered Audra her mind now full of questions since the shock of her injured brother’s appearance had been lowered.

“I am kinda tired.” Stated Nick suddenly wanting nothing more than to rest on a soft bed while the surgery was taking place and missing the surprised looks on the faces of his siblings as he hesitated. A frown of indecision flashed across his face and he glanced back upward. “You’ll come get me as soon as they’re done?”

“We will.” Reassured Jarrod firmly relieved when his brother nodded and placed a kiss on Audra’s cheek. “If you’re sleeping, I’ll wake you up.”

“Don’t forget.” Commanded Nick before walking down the hallway, not seeing the lavish paneling or the intricacies of the runner beneath his feet.

Entering and crossing his bedroom room as he took off his gunbelt, Nick only saw a picture of a single pain filled blue eye looking at him. Lowering himself gratefully onto the bed, he moved slowly to find a spot of comfort before letting out a large sigh. Closing his eyes, he mumbled to himself.

“First we’ll get you well and then we’re gonna have a long talk, Heath Thomson…Barkley.”

The sky and the land was slowly pushing off the covers of darkness while two men, brothers in the war of bringing justice by their prospective positions, contemplated what would happen with the new day. Mickey Flanagan absently flicked the reins of his drinking horse against the palm of his hand, his eyes seeking out the horizon to his left. Fred brushed a hand over the coat of his mount, before stopping to rest it on the leather seat.

“Sheriff, soon it’ll be light enough to try to pick up their trail.” Surmised the pinkerton, unable to forget the fiery blaze of the abandoned shack from hours ago.

“Yep.” Replied Fred before drumming his fingers on his worn saddle. “Maybe we don’t need to track them.”

“I’m not turning back.” Countered Mickey, the fear of not knowing if his friend had been inside the burning shack was scalding his insides. “They can’t be that far ahead of us.”

“I didn’t say we should turn back.” Said Fred patiently, knowing the other man was deeply worried about the welfare and being of his fellow pinkerton agent. “If he’s headed for the gold train like you think, he’ll have to wait for his other men to catch up to him. We could head cross country and get ahead of him. If we get to the gold train first, we’d be ready when they attack.”

“Now, you’re thinking sheriff!” exclaimed Mickey with a single nod. “Good thing I let you come along.”

Rolling his eyes, Fred shook his head and mounted, leading the way through the country he knew like his back yard. The sheriff picked his way around mother nature’s obstacles in the faint light of the morning as Victoria Barkley entered the water closet to wash the blood from her hands.

Wiping her hands on a soft towel, two gray eyes looked at her reflection in the mirror before she lowered herself to the floor. Holding the towel against her face, she used the cloth to muffle her sobs in the small room.

Chapter 42

The small set of shoulders shook with the sobs wracking her tiny frame. It took several minutes to get herself under control and yet, the tears she cried couldn’t erase the shame she felt withering a part of her soul. Wiping her tear stained cheeks with the soft cloth, Victoria leaned her head back against the cabinet and shook her head as it to deny its thoughts.

‘How could I? How could I ever think it’d be better if he died during surgery?’

She hadn’t felt such a intense sense of shame in her life and found it hard to believe in some way she would actually welcome the thought of Heath Thomson’s death.

What type of person could wish for such a thing simply to make their future easier? What type of person was she really deep down inside?

After all hadn’t she had told her children their half brother, their father’s son with another woman, should have what his other children had…a name, a heritage and a birthright. She had spoken those words to each of them and had meant them at the time. She’d made a decision not out of haste but after deliberation and much consideration.

What changed inside her? What happened?

She’d gone through all the stages of her emotions and settled on the right thing to do… the right way which should have been his since birth. If she really was certain of her feelings, the shameful despicable idea wouldn’t have been unleashed in her head during the delicate surgery to repair the laceration in his spleen.

Closing her eyes and swallowing against the tightness of her throat left from the uncontrollable outpouring of sobs, the silver haired lady pulled her knees up and hugged them to her chest. Leaning her forehead against the skirt of her dress, she took several deep breaths to steady the trembling she felt in her body, unable to move from the weakness suddenly sapping her of any strength.

Jarrod knocked on the door of the water closet, his blue eyes looking down at the wooden section of floor not covered by the hallway runner. The length of time his mother was in the room had stretched out and the lack of water running raised his level of worry. Audra had gone to bed after they’d waken Nick to let him know Heath was resting after the surgery to repair the small laceration.

The siblings were as relieved as their family physician when the organ did not have to be removed and only needed a few stitches to mend it. Feeling reenergized after his rest, Nick picked a spot for his vigil in the guest room and prepared to wait for the blond to wake.

“Mother.” Called out Jarrod softly, positive his deep voice was reaching her ears. Not hearing a response, he called out again to inform her of his intention to enter the room.

Reaching down and turning the knob, the first born slowly pushed and opened the door with only a whisper of sound. Cautiously peeking inside, he entered the room at the sight of his mother sitting on the floor with her arms wrapped around her drawn up knees and blinking at his presence.

“Mother, what’s wrong?” demanded Jarrod with a quiver in his voice, his hand gently touching her shoulder.

Jarrod watched the gray eyes of his beloved mother fill to overflowing with tears and she shook her head. Releasing her knees she leaned into her son’s broad chest and rested her head against it.

“Mother?” whispered Jarrod as he held onto her, waiting for her to speak of what caused her to hide away in this room. “What is it?”

“I don’t know if I can do it.” Admitted the tiny woman who’d carved out a life in the frontiers of these western lands. “I thought I could but….”

“What, Mother?” prodded Jarrod pulling back to look into her tear stained face, seeing the guilt and shame in her eyes.

“It’s not his fault…I know that…..” replied Victoria with confusion. “Still…I just…I”

“It’s difficult to have him here, isn’t it Mother?” suggested Jarrod tentatively. “If it’s any type of consolation, I imagine it will be just as difficult for Heath to be here, Mother.”

Lowering her face from the probing eyes of her son, Victoria reached up and wiped away her tears with shaky fingers. “For a moment…during surgery…I wanted him to die, Jarrod.”

“Mother!” gasped her first born unable to keep the shock out of his voice or his eyes. “I don’t believe it!”

“God forgive me but I did. It was only for a moment. I wanted it so we wouldn’t have to deal with explanations or trying to explain why we accepted him into our family.” Sighed Victoria with a shake of her silver head while her hands wrung the soft towel in her tense fingers.

“I don’t care what others think, Mother and you never did in the past either. Heath is father’s son and you said yourself he should be entitled to all that Nick, Audra or I have. Everything.” Stated Jarrod firmly.

“I know I did.” Acquiesced Victoria before lifting her confused eyes to her son’s. “I’m ashamed for thinking what I did, Jarrod. I did want Heath to receive his fair share…”

“And now?” queried the eldest child softly when his mother’s searched for words to continue.

“On some level there must be reservations and fears or I wouldn’t have thought his death would be a consequence I could live with Jarrod….not even for a second.” admitted Victoria while fighting the tears wanting to start anew.

“Mother.” replied Jarrod, taking hold of the hands twisting the cloth into a tight coil. “To have reservations and fears is a honest emotion. Facing your fears and understanding them only makes one stronger as a person. I have faith in you as a loving mother who could see no wrong or harm done to a child. Heath wasn’t to blame for his birth and inside you know this to be true.”

“It’s not his fault.” Agreed Victoria firmly. “He isn’t to blame for his parent’s actions.”

Jarrod nodded, “Mother, I think in wishing for Heath’s death during surgery….it was your subconscious trying to protect us as you’ve always done. While I anticipate many years ahead with our new family member, we both know it won’t be easy. There will be those who will never accept him or will shun us for accepting him. It’s none of their business and quite frankly, I can’t be bothered by people like that. If all of us are not willing to fight the criticism of others on Heath’s behalf, we’ll lose before we’ve even had a chance to get started.”

Chapter 43

After walking his emotionally spent mother to her room with strict orders to sleep, Jarrod entered the guest room where Nick sat in a chair with a pillow behind his back to cushion his stitches. The lamp burned low and the edges of its glow lightly touched the battered side of the pinkerton’s face. The jagged gash had been closed with small stitches that were nearly swallowed up by the bruising in the area.

Moving to the side of the bed across from where Nick sat deep in thought, Jarrod gently felt the warm forehead of the blond. His strong hand detected the lower level of warmth before Heath moved unconsciously in his medicine laden sleep.

“He’s not as hot.” Stated Jarrod in a hushed voice, not wanting to break the silence of the world his injured brother was in where the pain couldn’t find him for the moment.

Taking in a deep breath and letting it out, Nick nodded before leaning heavily on the arm of the chair and adjusting his sore body with a grimace. “Yeah, I know. Doc thinks it should break by morning.”

Nodding at the information, Jarrod’s crystal blue eyes studied the man who’d brought justice to their family at a time when all hope was lost. The young man had given them so much already and when he’d come back, they cast him away like he was unimportant.

In his mind, Jarrod knew it was due to the emotional devastation the family had still been going through at the time. He reasoned they hadn’t the fortitude nor strength at the time to handle the information. It was easier to doubt than to believe their father would have committed such a sin against their mother and his children.

In his heart, he wondered if Heath had come to them a year later would they have acted the same. Would they have cast him aside without so much a chance to a fair hearing as before? Would the healing which eventually came with time passed opened their minds to his words and proof? Would any time really been a good time to experience their father’s unpleasant fall from grace?

“Nick, why don’t you go to bed and I’ll sit with Heath?” suggested the first born catching the hazel eyes across the bed. “We can discuss things with him tomorrow or when he’s stronger…together as a family.”

Shaking his head negatively, Nick realized he’d forgotten his promise to the man sleeping off the effects of the anesthesia used during the surgery. Running a hand through his hair and uncaring of the pieces standing up amongst the rest, the rancher sighed to himself.

“No one’s discussing anything with him.” Stated Nick holding up a hand when Jarrod’s mouth opened to refute the statement. “Back at the camp, the only way I could get him to allow us to bring him and Jacks here was to promise him none of us would pressure him in any way, Jarrod. The deal was to get him and Jacks better before anything else is said or done.”

“Nick, I don’t know if it’ll be possible to keep your promise to Heath.” Informed Jarrod with a frown, recalling how he found their mother in the water closet.

“I’m not going back on my promise to him!” Snapped Nick in anger after pushing himself out of the chair to glare at his big brother. “I’ll move him to doc’s in town before I do that, Jarrod!”

“Calm down, Nick.” Commanded Jarrod with a hiss before taking a deep breath and closing his eyes for a moment. “Mother’s….”

“What?” demanded the rancher with narrowed eyes at the look of resignation crossing his brother’s face. “What about Mother, Jarrod?”

“Mother’s having a bit of a difficult time tonight, Nick…with Heath being here.” Suggested Jarrod tentatively. “I think talking to her helped with her feelings but….frankly, I’m not sure.”

Puzzlement flared in the hazel eyes and Nick scowled, “I don’t…Mother practically gave her blessings when I went out to look for Heath. She said she understood I had to do it. She knew I had to do it for my brother.”

At a loss to explain without revealing his mother’s rash wish during the surgery, Jarrod’s shoulders lowered and he nodded, “I know, Nick, I know. She’s tired and drained, things will look better in the morning after she’s rested.”

“And if they don’t look better?” queried Nick in a voice broken with fear of the coming dawn. “Mother wouldn’t make us choose between her and Heath…would she, Jarrod?”

“Honestly, I don’t know Nick.” Answered Jarrod in a soft voice unable to keep his own trepidation of the news morning would bring out of his eyes.

Nick stared into his brother’s eyes before they lowered to study the unconscious blond on the bed. Shivering once as he recalled the despondent abyss their mother fell into after the murder of her husband, Nick suddenly felt helpless as a new born. She’d been fractured for a period of time and unable to cope. She’d been lost and left without a light in the darkness.

Rubbing his hands over his face, Nick slowly lowered himself to the edge of the chair and fought his own rising despair. He never wanted to ever see his mother like she’d been two years ago. The bleakness of that time would never be forgotten and his heart balked inside his chest.

If their Mother couldn’t summon the will she carried deep inside and if in the morning she forced them to choose to save herself, nothing would ever be the same again. For him, the choice was already made and looking up into Jarrod’s eyes, he saw his brother’s answer.

Resting his elbows on his knees and holding his head in his hands, Nick inwardly cursed the cruel mistress of destiny whose touch could put their family between a rock and a hard place with the rising sun.

Chapter 44

Never had the sands in the hourglass dropped so slowly. The time spent waiting for what the dawning of the sun would bring crept by at an excruciating pace. It was almost as if the tiny grains in the invisible hourglass had to fight their way through a thick layer of molasses before falling through the narrow opening.

In the end when all the grains of time had ran out, they received a reprieve from the sentencing at dawn. A postponement of a sort. Not from their mother who had yet to exit her room. Nor did it come from the physician who was bending and nodding in satisfaction as he examined his patient.

It came at the arrival of Agent Kate Warne to the Barkley ranch who was knocking on the door of the prominent house shortly after first light.

“Thank you for sending your foreman for me, Mr. Barkley. I would have been here sooner, however, I needed to send a wire.” Stated the pinkerton after Jarrod greeted her at the door.

“Dr. Merar is with Heath now.” Informed Jarrod directing their guest to the staircase. “He looks like he was caught under a stampede but be assured he will be fine.”

Nodding, Kate walked beside the prominent attorney as they climbed the staircase to the second floor. Brown eyes swept over the interior of the house taking in the possible exits. An ingrained habit born of past missions now was a subconscious act.

Awareness was often the key to successfully leaving a job alive. Usually she and her fellow female agents were not involved in life threatening jobs but exercising caution when dealing with any criminal element was certainly not an exercise in futility.

“Mr. McCall was kind enough to fill me in on the ride here.” stated Kate softly after Jarrod opened the door to the guest room. “Mickey and Sheriff Maden left town yesterday and haven’t come back yet. There are a few of the other rodeo men missing as well as their ringleader, Turk.”

The dark haired man stepped back and allowed her to enter before following. Glancing around the room, she brought her eyes back to the physician who was gently laying a wet cloth on the most vicious bruising she had ever seen. Nodding to the second dark haired man who she assumed was the other brother, Kate moved to the bedside and stopped in place beside the healer.

Shoving down her dismay at the condition of her friend, Kate lowered herself onto the bed and reached across the body stiffened with pain. Placing her hand over the clenched left fist, she smiled tenderly at the blue under the half opened slit finding its way to her face.

“You worried about ten years off me, Heath.” Chastised Kate quietly, studying the distorted face of her handsome blond friend. “Between all the stunts of yours and Mickey’s, I’m gonna be gray before my time.”

The eyelid over the single open pool of blue fought its way upward and Kate shook her head slightly, seemingly able to read his thoughts from the single orb. “Follow the doctor’s orders, Heath. You’ve done your part now we’ll take care of everything else.”

A barely perceptible nod could be seen and the rigidness of his body relaxed as he allowed himself to fall back into the pitch black void. Heath unconsciously entrusted himself to the woman who sat holding his hand and who oftentimes knew his thoughts before he did himself.

“When will he be able to be moved?” asked Kate glancing upward in the surprised face of the physician.

“Moved?” repeated Howard casting a look towards the two brothers standing at the end of the bed with their mouths gaping open.

“I am Agent Kate Warne and I need to know when he can be moved Dr. Merar,” advised Kate giving one last squeeze to Heath’s hand before rising from the bedside. “Mr. McCall told me Heath cannot talk due to the beating he received.”

“He tries but the bruising and swelling is interfering with his ability to enunciate.”

Taking in the two men at the end of the bed, Kate gestured towards the sleeping blond, “It will be the first question he’ll ask, Mr. Barkley. I know.”

“And the second?” queried Jarrod quickly, sure his fear of losing the chance to know this brother of theirs was showing in his eyes.

“The second?” repeated Kate before sighing. “The second will be about the job and then…”

“Then what, Miss Warne?” questioned Jarrod at her hesitation as she lightly patted the quilt covered leg in an absent minded motion.

“Oh, then I’m afraid you’ll get to witness the infamous Thomson temper.” Answered the brown haired woman with a half smile.

“Because he’s here with us?” asked Nick, unable to keep his voice free of longing to know more about this man they’d chased away two years ago.

“Be rest assured gentlemen, the brunt of his anger will be directed to me. I wired his uncle this morning before I came to the ranch.” Replied Kate with a small chuckle which turned into a coughing bout and she didn’t see the look of stun turning to dismay pass between the two brothers.

“Here.” Instructed Howard handing the slender woman a glass of water, noting the pallor of her face as she gratefully drank. “Are you feeling well, Miss Warne?”

“No, she’s not.” retorted Jarrod. “I think you should examine her, Howard.”

Shaking her head negatively, Kate sent a scowl to the attorney before pushing away the physician’s hand from her forehead. “I’m fine, Dr. Merar.”

“You don’t look fine, Miss Warne.” suggested Howard with a knowing eye.

“It’s nothing. I am merely recovering from a bout of pneumonia.” Informed the female agent grudgingly as she brushed her bangs off her forehead.

“Pneumonia!” exclaimed Jarrod not seeing Nick’s head snap his way at his tone of concern. “You shouldn’t be out running around! You need to be resting!”

Arching an eyebrow at the forceful declaration in the dark haired voice, Kate looked back to the physician, “I was cleared to travel by my doctor back in Chicago. I have been keeping my activities to a minimum and drinking that awful Rosemary tea he prescribed. I’m fine, Dr. Merar.”

“If you’re not careful, Agent Warne, you could have a relapse.” Cautioned Howard firmly. “I’d suggest resting more and working less if you want to fully recover.”

“Once this is done, I’ll follow those instructions to the tee.” Promised Kate before continuing. “Now, when can Heath travel?”

“Not for several weeks by horseback.” Answered Howard before clearing his throat. “By wagon…a couple of days, four at the most. However, I would strongly recommend that he stay confined to bed for at least a week. Bruising is oftentimes more painful than a broken bone.”

“Thank you, doctor.” Acknowledged Kate with a nod before turning to the men clenching onto the wooden footboard with white knuckled grips. “I’d like to see the man Jacks, Mr. Barkley. I need to find out exactly what he knows.”

“Then you’ll rest.” Stated Jarrod stepping away from the bed.

“If time warrants perhaps I shall.” Acquiesced Kate reluctantly. “If all goes well everything will be settled by today or tomorrow at the latest.”

To be continued…