The Prisoner

Chapters 1-22

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.

Summary: A marshal arrives in Stockton and his arrival causes changes in the Barkley family.

Chapter 1

Leaning against the weathered boards of the depot, the hat was pulled over the man’s eyes, his thumbs hooked in his gun belt. Looking at the young man, one would never think he was capable of lightning fast reflexes. Looking at his gun, one could see the exceptional care his hands treated the cold steel to. If one saw the eyes, hidden under the hat, you would see the coldness in them.

The coldness coming from years of violence, years of training and years of survival. Rarely had anyone seen laughter in them or a light of love. At least, not most people. Only his close friends saw that, in his mind only they warranted that display of affection.

Hearing the whistle of the oncoming train, he straightened and the sun glistened off the metal pinned to his vest. Looking closer, the words Marshal were etched into it.

Taking off his hat, he ran his fingers through the almost shoulder length hair and replaced the stetson. Rolling his head around on his shoulders, he worked on alleviating the kinks built up from lack of sleep. ‘Need to get a haircut one o’ these days.’

The brakes of the train squealed and the steam was let loose as it slowed coming into the station. The conductor jumped down before the iron beast stopped completely, carrying a small wooden base, he placed it under the steps of the passenger car.

Seeing the badge on the man’s chest, the conductor gestured for him to follow. Stepping down off the platform, the man’s walk was as lithe as a mountain lion. His muscles rippling beneath his blue shirt, his tan jeans conformed to his body.

Reaching the caboose, he climbed the stairs and opened the door.

“Boy howdy, Frank! Can’t Spanish Creek afford for you to ride in the passenger car?” teased the Marshal, shaking the hand of the Sheriff.

“Great to see you boy! Your package was scaring the passengers.” replied Frank, returning the handshake, indicating to the man handcuffed to the chair on the side of the car.

The prisoner glared at the two lawmen and cursed them. His black hair falling in his eyes as he shook the chair he was chained to. His words and actions ignored by the two old friends while the Marshal signed the release papers.

Handing over the key, Frank clapped the younger man on the shoulder. “Make sure you stop in on your way back. Theresa and the kids would love to see you again.”

“I’ll see what I can do about that.” grinned the Marshal stepping over to the prisoner.

“Luke Croker, this is Marshal Heath Thomson.”

Looking down at the man and staring into his black eyes, the marshal informed him in a cold voice, “You can go sitting or laying across the saddle all the way to Stockton. Don’t matter much to me. I only have to get you there to stand trial for that rancher’s murder a few years back. No one said what shape you had to be in when you arrive.”

Nodding slightly, Croker realized the futility of causing problems now. It was a long way to Stockton from Carson City. All he had to do was wait, a circumstance would surely present itself.

Chapter 2

Jerking Croker to his feet, Heath pushed the man ahead of him through the door of the caboose, watching as he descended the metal stairs. Landing lightly on the balls of his feet beside his prisoner, he held onto his arm with his left hand and led him to the horses tied to the hitching rail.

Helping the man into the saddle, Heath tied his hands to the saddle horn, grabbed the lead rope and led the way out of town. Croker’s eyes burned a hole in the back of the lawman riding in front of him.

“You’ll never get the chance Croker.”

“What chance lawman?” snarled Croker.

Heath firmly replied, “The chance to put a bullet in my back.”

Grunting, Croker kept working at the leather bindings on his handcuffed hands. His efforts only caused a strain on his wrists from the tightening of the leather bonds.

Releasing a sigh of agitation, the prisoner stopped his movement and resigned to resting in the saddle. His eyes watching the trail around them, his face frowning deeper as the day wore on.

Marshal Thomson didn’t stop until night had fallen, the darkness fell around the two riders and the moonlight graced their faces. Wanting to put as much distance between him and the railroad, he had pushed the horses and himself on further. His eyes constantly moving under his hat, his gun never far from his hand.

He was on this detail cause he had drawn the short straw. Nobody in their right mind would want to be responsible for this prisoner all the way to Stockton. Luke Croker, cold blooded killer, deadly with a rifle or pistol was brother to none other than John Fremont.

Fremont was worse than Croker, he killed whenever he felt like it, no one was safe from that waste of humanity. He was as elusive as a rainbow, slippery than an eel and he placed great stock in his family, only the lord up above knew why.

Knowing his brother was in shackles and headed to Stockton, it was almost certain Fremont would try to stop the law from delivering him to what was to be a hanging death sentence, if he was found guilty.

Having hauled a few prisoners over the years, Marshal Thomson took no chances and asked no quarters from anyone. Purposely, he avoided the railroad, the fastest mode of transportation to Stockton.

Riding on horseback would not be a picnic but at least he’d be doing it on familiar ground. Having grown up in Strawberry, which lay halfway between Carson City and Stockton, he knew the back trails to take.

Thinking of Strawberry caused an ache deep within his heart. It was the place of his birth, the place where his mama lay in her eternal sleep. The woman who raised him with the help of two friends, without a father to assist her and guide him.

Growing up labeled a bastard was a life he’d never want any child to be subjected to. He hadn’t been back there since her death five years ago. Laying her in the ground beside Rachel and Hannah had been his last act of love for his mama.

If it hadn’t been for Frank Sawyer and his offer of a deputy’s job, he may have been the man the law was dragging to trial. After the war, he was wild and angry, looking for anyone to take him on and hopefully take him out of this life. Carterson had sure messed with him as a boy and it had taken the guidance and caring of tough Frank Sawyer to set him on the path of justice, help him find a reason to keep living and functioning in the somewhat civil world.

Pulling off the trail, he climbed down and tied the horses to some bushes. Stretching his back, he walked over to the horse, dodging the boot aimed at his face.

Untying the leather, he grabbed the prisoner and threw him over his head onto the ground. Stunned, Croker gasped for air while the irritated lawman stood by hands on his narrow hips.

Picking up the prone man, the lawman dragged him away from the campsite waiting in the bright moonlight while the call of nature was answered. Escorting him back, the prisoner stared at the piece of jerky thrust into his hands.

“Jerky! What about coffee and some real food?”

“Jerky and water’s all we got.” informed the lawman coldly sitting across the clearing, watching the prisoner carefully. “Don’t matter to me if you don’t drink or eat on this trip.”

Cursing loudly, Croker’s hate and anger was simmering waiting to be released. Mumbling about killing all the lawmen, his jaws chewed methodically on the piece of cured meat. Taking a healthy swig of water, his hunger was not even close to being quenched from the supper ration.

“Can’t you get a rabbit or something!” shouted Croker. “I’m starving!”

“Shut up or I’ll break your jaw!” growled Heath lashing the cursing man tightly to a tree. “Night!”

His head pillowed on his saddle, he pulled out his pistol and held it in his hand while sleep came quickly.

Chapter 3

Ten days later, Nick Barkley strode purposely down the boardwalk, his spurs twinkling out a lively tune from his footsteps and entered the office of Sheriff Maden. Closing the door behind him, he called out at the empty desk. “Fred, you here?”

“Coming, Nick.” yelled the sheriff from the holding area. Smiling to himself, Fred shook his head and thought, ‘Thought he’d be here at sunrise.’

Walking into the outer office, he poured both of them a cup of coffee. Handing one to Nick, he sat in his chair and took a sip. “What’s on your mind, Nick?”

“WHAT’S ON MY MIND?” asked Nick incredulously. “YOU KNOW WHAT I’M HERE FOR!”

“Uh huh. Where’s Jarrod?” inquired the sheriff calmly.

“He’s on his way, Fred.” sighed Nick. “Where’s the murdering snake?”

Jarrod opened the door and walked in, interrupting the response. “Morning, Fred. Got another cup?”

Tossing a tin mug to the lawyer, Fred smiled inwardly at the differences between the two men.

Jarrod, the attorney and eldest son, seemingly unruffled by the pressures around him. His suave, sophisticated manner hid the cowboy that lay beneath his skin. He was at home in a court room as he was on the range of the family ranch. He could be as explosive as his younger brother, but managed to keep a tight rein on his inherited temper.

Nick, younger by four years, always seemed to be a volcano, the explosion constantly simmering beneath the surface. When he let go, watch out! Nick could be dashing and sophisticated but preferred to leave that to his older brother. He ran the Barkley ranch and other investments with experience and an iron fist. Never asking anyone on his payroll roster to do what he himself wouldn’t do.

“How’s your mother?” inquired Fred seeing the tension flowing in Nick.

“She’s well, Fred.” grinned Jarrod winking at their old friend, enjoying the tormenting of his younger brother.

Pacing the room, Nick waited impatiently. “Is he here yet?”

“Not yet, Nick.”

Nick slapped his gloves against his black jeans, his pacing continuing and his face darkening. “Do you know when he’ll show up?”

“Like I told ya’ before Nick, sometime today. At least that was the estimation of Frank Sawyer, the sheriff in Spanish Creek. That’s what he said in his letter.”

Realizing he may have to wait the whole day for a glimpse of the man who stole his Father away three years earlier, Nick’s pacing stopped and he perched himself on the edge of the desk. Sighing, he ran his hand over his face and nodded. “Guess I’d better get back out to the ranch.”

Walking outside, Fred stood talking to the brothers, his words ceasing at the sight of the two men coming towards them. “Looks like them coming now.”

Turning, Jarrod and Nick watched the riders coming up the street. From this distance, the exhaustion could be seen on the horses and men.

Seeing the sign indicating the Sheriff’s office, Marshal Thomson turned his stallion towards his fellow lawman. Dust covered the clothing of the two men, their eyes red and rimmed from lack of sleep. Stubble on their faces, the star on his chest dulled with dirt and grime.

“Sheriff Maden. Marshal Heath Thomson. Got a minorly bruised prisoner for ya’.” informed the weary man as he dismounted and stumbled slightly.

Tying off the horses, he undid the bindings and dragged the prisoner from the top of his horse. Croker’s legs gave out under him, numb from the hours upon hours of riding in the saddle, muscles complaining from lack of use.

“Get up, Croker.” growled Heath. “I ain’t carrying your worthless ass.”

“You’re a sonofabitch, Thomson. You’re also a dead man!” shouted Croker from his knelt position, a blackened eye and split lip clear for all to see.

“You had your shot and missed. Now walk.” chuckled the Marshal dryly, the words accented with a not so kind jerk on the man’s handcuffed limbs, propelling the prisoner onto his wobbly legs. Heath followed the Sheriff into the building, stopping just inside at the request of the suited man.

Turning, he pushed his hat brim up and looked at the two men. Nick and Jarrod’s words were cut off in their throats from the familiar blue eyes looking back at them. The face, a replica of their Uncle Jim in his younger wilder days.

“Something you want, boys.”

Jarrod recovered his bearings and held out his hand, “I’m Jarrod Barkley and this is my brother, Nick. We want to thank you for bringing this man to Stockton, Marshal Thomson. He will be going on trial for the murder of our Father, Thomas Barkley.”

Taking the outstretched hand in a strong clasp, the Marshal nodded and yanked the prisoner along towards the holding cell. Jarrod and Nick glanced at each other and walked to the inner doorway.

“Croker, if you so much as move a muscle while I’m taking off these cuffs, I’ll break your wrists. I’m not in the mood for any of your games.”

Leaning his head against the cold metal bars, hands held out through the bars, the prisoner snorted, “Hurry up so I can get some sleep and a decent meal. There should be a law against how you treat prisoners.”

“It’s your own fault, Croker. You get what you get when you break the law.” smirked the Marshal freeing the encased wrists. “Sheriff, Croker here loves jerky and water only.”

Grabbing the bars of the cell, Croker cursed wildly, his freed hands reaching for the dusty marshal. Following the marshal out into the office, Fred signed the release papers.

“Where’s the doctor’s office, Sheriff?” asked Heath quietly.

“It’s the building down the street with the blue trim. Does the prisoner need to see him?” asked Fred.

“No, Croker put a knife in me. I need him to check it out.” gruffed Heath putting the release paper in his pocket and shaking the sheriff’s hand. “I’ll be back later. My orders are to stay and assist you until the trial’s over.”

“Be glad for your help, Marshal.” admitted Fred fully aware of the prisoner’s not so friendly family.

“Marshal, I’ll show you the doc’s office.” offered Nick looking sideways at Jarrod, catching his questioning look. “It’s on my way outta town.”

“Thanks, Mr. Barkley.”

Jarrod followed the two men onto the boardwalk watching as they went to their horses. Marshal Thomson dusted his clothes off with his hat, slowly pulled himself into the saddle and rode beside Nick down the street to Dr. Merar’s office. Turning on his heel, Jarrod walked to the telegraph office and entered.

Nick directed the Marshal to the building, received a quiet word of thanks from the man before he dismounted and entered. Nick sat on Coco contemplating what to do next, the lawman’s face flashing in his mind.

The blonde hair and shape of face were not hard to miss to another Barkley. It was a strong trait in those family members who inherited more of the Barkley genes. It had been unmistakable in his Father, his Uncle Jim and Audra.

Those eyes! Nick knew he would never forget what those eyes looked like - those were his father’s eyes.

Nudging Coco, he headed back up the street and stopped in front of Jarrod’s law office. Greeting the secretary, he opened the door and closed it behind him.

Returning to the office, Jarrod looked over at his brother, sitting in a chair deep in thought, a frown his only show of expression.

“Nick, I sent a wire to Uncle Jim. If Father, uh, had any other acquaintances, well, he’d know about them.” stammered Jarrod unsure of his brother’s volatile temperament.

Snorting, Nick looked up. “Hell, Jarrod. I already know Father was no saint. With that long hair, all we have to do is put a dress on him and the Marshal would be Audra’s twin. What more proof do you need?”

Jarrod leaned over the desk and stared intently at his brother, his words laced with anger, “You know Father was no saint! How do you know that, Nick? Perhaps you’d care to enlighten me!”

Chapter 4

Dr. Howard Merar had been Stockton’s town physician for almost twenty years. In those years, he and his wife, Helen were considered family to a lot of citizens in the area. Never having been fortunate enough to have children of their own, the Merar’s liked to think of all the children in Stockton as theirs in some small way.

Victoria and Tom Barkley had been the first to welcome the Merar’s into the area. Over the years, the couples remained steadfast in their friendship with each other, spending a lot of time together at each other’s residences, meeting each other’s extended families on the holidays.

He’d set a lot of bones, taken out a lot of bullets, stitched a lot of wounds, seen the violence people were capable of towards each other and delivered a lot of babies in the span of his career here. He’d seen a lot, therefore, it took a lot to shock him.

When the unknown lawman entered the building, took off his hat and shirt as requested, Howard stared into the face of a Barkley sitting on his examination table. The blue eyes looked at the physician staring at him.

“Something wrong, Dr. Merar.” stated Heath breaking the silence.

The words shook Howard out of his state of wonder. “Sorry, Marshal. You just look so familiar, that’s all.”

“I’ve been called lots of things – familiar ain’t one of them.” His sarcastic comment earning him a quick grin from the physician.

Stepping over to the table, Howard examined the jagged knife wound in the front of the muscled left shoulder. Walking around to examine the back, he sucked in his breath from the crisscross of scars across the tanned back. To the trained physician’s eye, he knew the savagery needed to create wounds of this type.

At the physician’s intake of air, Heath unconsciously tensed. He had lived with the scars for a long time, sometimes he was even able to forget they were there, but someone or something always brought it back to the forefront of his mind. The Marshal concentrated on suppressing his groans of pain from the physician’s probing fingers.

“How many days ago did this happen?”

“Three.”

“How did you clean it out?” asked Howard opening a bottle of laudanum.

“Whiskey and soap. All I had on the trail.” shrugged Heath, eyes spying the bottle in the physician’s hand. “What’s that, doc?”

“Laudanum. I’m going to have to clean it thoroughly and you’ll need some stitches to keep the wound closed, otherwise, the healing process will be slowed down.” explained Howard.

“No pain killer, just sew it up and I’ll be on my way.”

Noting the whiteness around the Marshal’s lips, Howard sighed loudly in resignation at the stubbornness the man was exhibiting.

Stepping closer, he said quietly, “Marshal, you’ve lost blood, the wound shows a small amount of infection and you’re exhausted. I know you’re in pain, take the laudanum. It’ll help you get an uninterrupted rest.”

The lop-sided grin on his lips didn’t quite reach the blue sapphire eyes, “I can’t be twitter-brained by some medicine. Just stitch it, doc and I’ll handle the pain.”

Howard shook his head and prepared the tray, mumbling about stubbornness of the western man in general. Starting the cleansing, a sheen of sweat coated the face of his patient and the tanned face couldn’t hide the fast draining color, the hands gripping the edge of the table were turning white.

Glancing into the blue eyes, Howard saw the far away look and heard the quiet humming, almost in the form of a chant, coming from the man. Working quickly, the physician’s sure hands completed the task and wrapped a white bandage over the area.

“Marshal, I’m finished.” said Howard quietly, repeating his words a couple times. The humming abruptly stopped and the blue eyes blinked several times before he received a slight nod of acknowledgment. “Let’s get your shirt back on.”

Grabbing it, Howard helped the man dress, watching the shaky fingers work the small buttons. Taking deep breaths, Heath held onto the table after his feet hit the floor, closing his eyes to counter the spell of vertigo. Steadying himself, he paid the physician and thanked the man before heading out the door.

Taking care of his horses was the next priority for the morning and the lawman rode to the livery he spied on his way into town. Grabbing his saddlebags and rifle, the lawman walked up the street to the sheriff’s office.

Checking on Croker, he spoke with the sheriff and deputy for several minutes before checking into the hotel. Closing and locking the door behind him, Heath stumbled to the bed, asleep before his body hit the quilt.

Chapter 5

“I’m asking you again, Nick! How do you know that?” grilled Jarrod, agitated at his brother’s hesitation in answering the question.

“I’M NOT ONE OF YOUR WITNESSES. STOP BADGERING ME!” shouted Nick angrily.

Taking a deep breath, Jarrod nodded and sat in his chair. Leaning backwards, he rubbed his forehead and waited for the forthcoming explanation.

Nick stood up and held onto the back of the chair. “Remember when Father ran into those rustlers up by the north line shack?”

Nodding, Jarrod leaned on his desk. “I remember, Nick. You found him and brought him home. We almost lost Father that time.”

“He was all feverish and talking out of his mind on the way back.”

Looking into the hazel eyes, Jarrod asked quietly, “What was he talking about?”

“Another woman. Her name was Leah.” said Nick quietly feeling the anger and repulsion rising up in him again from his Father’s lack of faithfulness and indiscretion.

“Jesus.” whispered Jarrod, his legal mind running through the implications of his Father’s act. “What else?”

Running his hand through his dark hair, Nick sat back down in the chair. “He talked about Mother too. How much he was sorry and guilty for what he’d done.”

Covering his face with his hands for several minutes, Jarrod looked over at his brother after he clasped his hands together and placed them on the desk. “Did you tell Father what he’d said during his fever?”

“Yeah, we had a huge fight over it when he was back on his feet. Father said she’d taken him in when he was injured and things got out of control. He left and sent a letter to her explaining everything. Telling her he had a family and he was sorry. Jarrod, he never went back to check on her. He couldn’t have known he left her with child.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s okay!” snapped Jarrod regretting his words as soon as they left his lips and the wounded look in his brother’s eyes appeared. “I’m sorry, Nick. I know you don’t condone those sorts of actions. I just can’t believe this is happening.”

“I know, Jarrod. What are we gonna do about it?” asked Nick unsure of the next step.

A grin flitted across his strong face, “The marshal sure don’t seem too friendly. I don’t know if I wanna be there when we tell him we’re fairly certain he’s our half brother.”

Chuckling, Jarrod agreed, “It does appear he may have inherited the famous Barkley temper, among other things.”

Getting up from his chair and looking out into the street, the man of their discussions was leaving the sheriff’s office. Jarrod watched him enter the hotel and turned back to his younger brother.

“I’d say the next step is to tell Mother before someone else does.”

Standing, Nick put on his hat. “No time like the present, Pappy.”

Walking outside, the two brothers mounted and headed back to the ranch. Their unspoken thoughts mirrored each other, their concerns over their Mother’s reaction the same.

It appeared they had another brother by a different mother. Both silently wondered, if true, how this man would change their lives and the lives of everyone around them.

Chapter 6

Victoria rose at the opening of the front door, walked into the foyer and smiled widely, “What are you two doing here? This is a lovely surprise.”

Putting their hats and guns on the table, they kissed their mother and followed her into the parlor. Stopping on the outskirts of the ranch, the brothers had talked out their approach. Both concerned, knowing they were about to destroy their mother’s fond and loving remembrance of their father.

Jarrod glanced at Nick and said quietly, “Mother, a marshal brought in Luke Croker today.”

Nodding, Nick stated, “Two weeks til the trial and then it’ll be over, Mother.”

Victoria nodded, “Is this what you came home to tell me? I was here when Fred told us he’d probably be arriving today.”

“Mother, the man that brought him in, well..” paused Jarrod searching for the delicate words to break his mother’s heart.

Putting his elbows on his knees, Nick cleared his throat, “His name’s Marshal Heath Thomson, Mother.”

“Heath, that’s an unusual name.” said Victoria, her heart unexpectedly shuttered at the last name.

Sensing the underlying current flowing between her two sons, the hesitation, the guarded looks at each other, she inquired firmly, “What is it you’re not telling me?”

Jarrod looked into her eyes, “It’s not certain yet, Mother, but we felt we should warn you about something.”

“Warn me about what? Do you think Luke Croker may be found innocent of your father’s murder?”

“No! That’s not it, Mother.” assured Jarrod quickly. “There’s three eye witnesses and enough evidence to render a guilty verdict.”

“Mother, we think this Marshal Thomson, well, he could be our half brother.” blurted Nick foregoing softness with his usual directness.

Nick’s statement was greeted with a wide-eyed stare from his Mother. Turning her head to Jarrod, he nodded his agreement to Nick’s statement. Closing her eyes, Victoria’s mind went back to the time her husband had disclosed his indiscretion to her.

The admission had stolen the trust between them, threatening the destruction of all they knew about each other, the sin erected a wall between the couple. It had taken years of working and rebuilding to regain the trust they had before his straying from their marriage vows.

Jarrod and Nick’s worried eyes never left the face of their mother. Her silence concerning them as it grew, her shaking body a sign of the emotional turmoil and shock.

Suddenly, her gray eyes looked outward at her sons. “Why do you think he’s your brother?”

Listening to the tale of the morning, Victoria sat back in her chair and let the news digest in her mind. She knew her two sons were puzzled by her reaction and she smiled slightly.

“I knew about your father’s indiscretion a long time ago. Nick, you would’ve been too young to remember the fights. It was right after Matthew died as a child. Jarrod, you might have heard our angry words.”

“It was your father’s and my error. We should have made sure the woman was not left with child. We didn’t. It was a very difficult time for both of us and especially, for me as a woman. Perhaps we didn’t consider want to consider the possibility of a child just so we could put the whole sordid time behind us and look ahead.”

“Perhaps, neither of us really wanted to know.” Standing, she looked into the empty fireplace for several minutes. Turning around, Victoria informed her sons, “Her name was Leah Thomson. I want to go to Stockton and see this man for myself.”

“Why don’t you let us handle it, Mother?” asked Jarrod, his blue eyes pleading. “We can see him and find out if he suspects anything, what he wants from the family.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a better idea.” agreed Nick rapidly.

Lifting her chin, Victoria’s voice rang through the lower level of the mansion, “You will either take me or I will ride in myself. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Mother.” The deep voices stated in unison, defiance of this small woman was not tolerated in any fashion.

Victoria informed her sons she would meet them outside in an hour. Entering her bedroom, she sat heavily on the bed and stared at the picture of her husband smiling back at her. Picking up the item, she outlined his face with her finger and threw it across the room as tears escaped from her eyes.

“Tom, what am I supposed to do about this man, your son? What?”

Chapter 7

Waking from a sound sleep, Heath looked around in confusion wincing from the pain in his shoulder. Remembering where he was, he took out his watch and opened the case. Only eight hours had passed since he collapsed on the bed. He felt as if he had slept for days.

Opening his saddlebags, he took out some clothes and headed to the water closet. Thirty minutes later, feeling refreshed and cleaner he returned to his room. Sitting at the table in his room, he spent extra time cleaning his weapons of all the dust and grim.

Wiping his badge, he belted on his gun, grabbed his rifle and headed down the stairs. Entering the desk clerk’s recommended restaurant just down the boardwalk from the sheriff’s office, he sat in the corner where he could watch the comings and goings. Habits engrained over years are hard to break. Self preservation forced him to act out the habits without thought.

He knew of too many men dying from bullets received in the back through an open window. In his line of business, there were plenty of criminals who would like the open target of his back.

The waitress placed his dinner before him and refilled his coffee cup. All of Stockton was whispering about the capture and return of Tom Barkley’s murderer. All of Stockton knew the trial was in two weeks. All of Stockton knew the family connections of the murderer and they waited with bated breath.

Normally, the young lady would have been surprised to see a marshal at one of her tables, but the gossips had already decreed why the man was there. Hoping to catch the eye of the good looking marshal, she walked away disappointed when he pointedly ignored her.

Heath Thomson knew the effect his looks held on some women. He liked women but never got involved when he was on a job or in a strange place. Back in Ely, Nevada where he was based, he had escorted some of the area’s most beautiful women to the socials. Never anything serious though. His work was too dangerous to get involved to that degree.

His high respect for the opposite sex, he surmised, came from being raised by three strong women. He would never put a woman in the position his mama had been forced in by the lack of a husband. Working before the sun rose to after the sunset, for pennies a day. Forced to struggle all her young life cause she loved her son above all else.

Heath shook his head, turned his thoughts away from the past and back to his current job and his dinner. Finishing the last of his coffee, he placed some money on the table and made his way to the door.

The sound of shots hastened his steps to the door. Opening it slightly, his eyes took in the men firing at the jail from across the street, hidden by boxes of freight in front of the general store. A stray bullet shattered the window of the restaurant, sending the other diners scampering on the floor for safety.

Movement caught his eye from a woman ducking behind a black carriage in the street only five yards from the sheriff’s office. Cursing, he judged the distance down the boardwalk. Opening the door, the marshal sprinted towards the innocent bystander.

Victoria’s shocked eyes stared at the younger version of her brother-in-law running towards her, a ray of sun glistened briefly off the badge on his chest.

Chapter 8

Heath jumped and rolled to a spot beside the woman. Shouting, the men across the street turned their guns towards the new target.

Opening the carriage door, he looked down at her, “Ma’am, crawl up here and lay flat on the floor. NOW!”

The harsh tone of voice left no room for thinking, Victoria shimmied up and onto the floor of the carriage curling into a fetal position. The carriage door slammed behind her. Breathless, Victoria winced each time a bullet flew overhead. Cutting the reins with a sharp knife, Heath slapped the horses on the rump and let out a wild yell. The frightened horses lunged in their harnesses and pulled the carriage down the street.

Working the lever on his rifle, he sprayed the boxes across the street where the men were hiding, sending them further behind cover. Ducking behind a water trough, the marshal saw someone jump out and grab the horses of the runaway carriage.

Pushing bullets into the chamber of his rifle, Heath lay on his side in the dusty street. Looking at the buildings behind him, Heath spied the alleyway and called out. “John Freemont, you over there?”

“Who wants to know?” was the answering shout.

“Marshal Heath Thomson.”

“Out of your area, aren’t you Thomson!” yelled Freemont cursing at the sound of the marshal’s voice.

“I wasn’t expecting you so early. What’s your hurry?”

“Just give me my little brother!”

“I’ll trade him for you!” chuckled Heath after several bullets hit the water trough. “Is that a no?”

“I’m gonna kill you yet, Thomson.” bellowed Freemont, his face red with anger behind the crates.

Grabbing the shirt of his nephew, he snarled. “Why didn’t you tell me Thomson brought Luke here? That bastard’s crazy! If he wasn’t the law, he could be in our family!”

“We didn’t know who the marshal was, Uncle John.” whined his nephew, fear blazing in his eyes, the men around them shifted uncomfortably at the fury on their leader’s face, their eyes drawn away from across the street and at each other.

Taking a breath, Heath jumped up and dove into the alley four feet away. His back tensed for a bullet that never came. Running up the alley, he stacked a couple boxes and climbed onto the roof of the building next to the sheriff’s office. Taking off his hat, he looked over the edge of the roof and smiled.

Glancing upwards, John Freemont’s eyes widened and he swore loudly at the marshal’s advantage point. Jumping, he ran past the men and around the corner of the building towards the horses, bullets flying past and around him. Freemont spurred his horse into action and out of the town. Looking around at his men, he noticed three didn’t make it.

Climbing down from the roof, Heath ran across the street. His eyes catching sight of the fleeing mob’s dust. Running back to the front, he grabbed a horse and jumped in the saddle waving to the sheriff as he galloped by, leaning over the neck of the horse.

Jarrod and Nick watched their half brother gallop down the street after the fleeing criminals. They had been in the sheriff’s office when the shooting started, unable to get to their mother crouched behind the carriage.

Their half brother had unknowingly saved their mother’s life, the woman who was married to his father, the man he probably felt nothing but hatred for and rightly so.

“Com’on Jarrod!” shouted Nick rushing to Coco, taking off after the blonde. Jarrod jumped on Fred’s horse and followed, ignoring the shouts from the Sheriff.

Heath let the horse have full rein in his effort to catch up to the men who had a head start. Riding over the meadow grasses, the horse stumbled and pitched it’s rider over his head. Surprise flashed across the marshal’s face before he met the ground, rolling to a stop and laying still among the plush green carpet.

The horse climbed back on it’s feet, sides heaving, limping from the injured leg. Nuzzling the human with its nose, shook it’s head at the smell of blood and walked away a few steps.

Nick and Jarrod saw the standing horse and pulled to a stop. Jumping down, they knelt by the side of the still man. Jarrod ran his hands down the limbs and sighed with relief. “Nothing’s broken, Nick.”

Turning him over, they saw the cut on his forehead and the flowing blood. Holding a handkerchief on the wound, Nick put pressure on it to stop the flow of the red liquid. Heath moaned slightly and moved his head.

“Marshal Thomson!” called Jarrod. “Marshal!”

Nick watched the eyelids flutter, his gut twisting, waiting for the eyelids to open. Groaning, Heath pushed at the brick holding his head still. Feeling a hand, he tensed, his right hand was stopped as it reached for his gun. Striking out with his left fist, he pushed the hand off his head.

“Heath, it’s the Barkleys!” shouted Nick and Jarrod seeing the wildness in the now open blue eyes.

Stopping suddenly at the name, Heath put a hand on his forehead and rolled onto his side and slowly up onto his knees. Sitting back on his heels, he fought for control over his revolting stomach. Nick pushed the cloth back under the marshal’s hand and over the wound.

“Dammit!” growled Heath. “What are you doing here?”

Nick replied, “You’re lucky we’re the ones that found you.”

Glancing at the larger man, Heath nodded slightly regretting the move when it caused pain, “You’re right. Sorry about that, Mr. Barkley.”

Looking at the man who was his half brother, Nick grinned, “It’s a good thing you got a hard head.”

Laughing softly at the scowl from the blonde, Jarrod stood and held out his hand. Heath took the offered hand and the world spun around out of control when he was pulled to his feet. His legs went limp and his eyes closed on their own, unaware of the support his two brothers gave him, keeping him from falling onto the ground.

Putting an arm over their shoulders, Nick and Jarrod walked him to Coco. Lifting the unconscious man into the saddle, Jarrod held him while Nick climbed up behind him. Picking up the rifle and hat from the ground, Jarrod mounted and grabbed the reins of the injured horse.

Victoria and Fred watched the brothers coming up the street with the injured man. Billy ran down the street and returned with Dr. Merar. Handing him down, Fred and Jarrod carried him in and laid him on the cot in one of the cells, ignoring the joyful laughter coming from the prisoner across from them. Victoria stared at the face of the young man and looked into the compassionate eyes of Howard Merar.

Smiling gently at her, Howard wiped the blood and cleaned the wound. Stitching the wound, he wrapped a bandage around his head. Checking the pupils, he looked at the sheriff.

“Fred, he has a mild concussion. I’d leave you some laudanum for the headache he’ll have when he wakes again, but he won’t take it. This is some aspirin powder, mix this with water. Don’t tell him it’s medicine, just make him drink it.”

Nick and Jarrod looked at each other with curiosity while Howard closed his bag and left the cell with Victoria following.

“I’ll come back in a couple hours to check on him. Try to keep him on his back for a few days, if you can.” advised Howard walking to the outer office.

Stopping by her sons, Victoria whispered, “Let’s get rooms at the hotel for tonight. I want to see your brother in the morning when he wakes up.”

Chapter 9

Waking the next morning, Heath bit back the moan wanting to escape from the pounding in his head. Opening his eyes, he stared at the ceiling above him. Moving his eyes in their sockets also seemed to cause pain.

Closing his eyes, he remembered what brought him to be here. Holding his head with one hand, he pushed upwards and sat up on the cot. Croker watched from across the room, grinning happily to himself.

“HEY MARSHAL!” shouted Croker loudly, his voice echoing in the small room, reverberating even louder in Heath’s head. “MORNING!”

Climbing to his feet, Heath held onto the bars to combat his lightheadedness and get himself centered. Croker kept yelling loudly, standing at his own cell bars.

Walking over, Heath stared coldly at the prisoner and sneered, “Too bad your worthless brother can’t even pull off an escape attempt.”

“He won’t fail next time!” shouted Croker.

Snorting in contempt, Heath opened the door to the outer office and closed it behind him. Sighing in relief, when the shouts from Croker were shut off from his ears and out of his throbbing head.

Fred handed the pale marshal a glass. “Dr. Merar said water before coffee, cause of your concussion.”

“What’s in it?” asked Heath suspiciously.

“Headache powder.” admitted Fred with a grin. “He did say it wouldn’t make you, what was it, twittedly-brained? No laudanum in this.”

Heath sat in the chair across from the desk and drank the water, placing the empty glass on the desk. “Twitter-brained. Most pain killers make you twitter-brained.”

“You mean groggy?”

“Something like that. They keep you off your toes, make your brain all fuzzy.” sighed the marshal, leaning his head back gently and closing his eyes. “Any sign of Freemont?”

“No, we lost the tracks. Jarrod and Nick Barkley wanted you to stop by the hotel when you woke up. Their mother was the woman behind the carriage.”

Heath sighed, “Small world. Where’s your deputy?”

“Sleeping. He stood guard all night. By the way, that was his horse you took. He’s mad cause now it’s lame.”

“Where is it?” asked the marshal gently rubbing his temples.

“At the livery.”

“I’ll take a look at it. I know a few things about horses. In the meantime, he can use my extra horse.” Standing, Heath carefully placed his hat over the bandage. “I suppose the doc wants to see me, too.”

“Yep.” smirked Fred. “Good job yesterday, Marshal.”

Shrugging, Heath checked his gun. “Obviously not good enough since Freemont’s not in a cell back there or on his way to a pine box. I’m gonna send a wire requesting more marshals. I’ll be gone most of the day, Sheriff.”

Opening the door, Heath stood inside the building until his eyes adjusted to the brighter light outside. Leaving the office, he walked to the telegraph office, then headed to the livery and saddled his horse. Seeing the hostler, the man directed him to the stall where the lame horse was housed.

Running his hands down the leg, Heath left the stall and put together a pack. Wrapping it around the horse’s leg, he patted the animal and rode down the street to the office of Dr. Merar.

After twenty minutes, he left the frustrated physician behind and led his horse up the street. Tying him in front of the hotel, he entered the dining room, scanning the faces before him.

Nick walked over and they exchanged firm handshakes. “Morning, Marshal. How’s the head?”

“Morning, Mr. Barkley. It’s still attached.”

Jarrod rose and waited for the two to reach the table. “Marshal Heath Thomson, this is our mother, Victoria Barkley.”

Tipping his hat, the man nodded, “Mrs. Barkley, pleasure to meet you.”

“Please join us, Marshal Thomson.” smiled Victoria gesturing to an open seat. “I’d like to thank you for what you did yesterday.”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to decline, ma’am. I have to do some tracking.” drawled Heath adding with a slight smile at her obvious look of disappointment, “Business before pleasure, Mrs. Barkley.”

“You can’t ride in your condition.” replied Nick frowning darkly.

Looking puzzled at the concern from the taller man, Heath turned and addressed the silver haired woman. “I hope I wasn’t too forceful yesterday, ma’am. I can be a bit rough. I’m used to handling criminals and not fine ladies such as yourself.”

“No you weren’t, Marshal Thomson. I understand, in your profession, sometimes the severity of actions by others will determine how you react in a split second decision.”

Cocking his head sideways and thinking on her words, Victoria was rewarded with a sparkling in the blue eyes, “Nicely said, Mrs. Barkley. Interesting deduction, ma’am. Interesting.”

“Perhaps you’d be kind enough to allow us to thank you properly, Marshal Thomson, by joining us for dinner at our ranch.” suggested Victoria.

“Perhaps Mrs. Barkley, if time and duty warrant. Good day.” stated the lawman, tipping his hat to all at the table and leaving the room.

Three pairs of eyes followed the retreating back until it was gone from their sight. Victoria drank her coffee, deep in thought.

Looking at her sons, she smiled, “I, for one, am intrigued and would like to know more about our Marshal Heath Thomson.”

Chapter 10

The sun was starting to dip in the sky as Marshal Heath Thomson rolled the problem of John Freemont around in his head on the way back to Stockton. The day’s riding yielding no results except for questions and an increased pounding in his head.

The jail attack by Freemont had been expected. It had been one of the contingencies he had discussed with Sheriff Maden.

What had been unexpected was the timing of it. It was in the daylight and not planned up to Freemont’s normal standards. He had rushed the attempt as if he had a deadline to keep.

‘A deadline to keep? Hmmm.’ thought the marshal wondering if his train of thought was onto something.

Riding up the street, Heath rode to the livery and unsaddled his horse. Taking extra time to groom Charger and give him an extra ration of oats. Entering the cell of the deputy’s lame horse, he changed the mudpack and curried the animal.

Grabbing his rifle and saddlebags, he walked up the street towards the jail stopped by the telegraph delivery boy. Handing the young lad a tip, Heath continued on and tapped on the jail’s door.

Billy watching from the windows, unlocked the door and allowed the marshal access. “Evening, Marshal.”

“Deputy. Everything okay?” asked Heath setting his items on a bench.

“Not a peep out of anyone.” replied Billy. “Marshal, thanks for the use of your spare horse.”

Waving off the thanks, Heath sat in the Sheriff’s chair, drank a glass of water mixed with headache powder and pulled the wires from his pocket. “It’s the least I could do Deputy. Your horse’ll be fine in a few days once the swelling goes down.”

Taking the coffee the deputy poured him, he sipped it and read the wires. “Three more marshals will be arriving tomorrow. That should defer another attempt by Freemont.”

Sipping his coffee, Heath couldn’t get past the feeling he was on the right path when he thought Freemont was acting as if he were on a deadline.

“I’m gonna visit with the prisoner.” stated Heath jerking open the inner door.

Taking a chair by the door, Heath straddled it outside the cell with his arms across the back and stared at Croker.

Croker glared back into the cold blue eyes, his falling away first. “What do ya’ want?”

“I’m thinking, Croker.”

Snorting, the prisoner sat back against the wall, sarcasm thickening his voice, “Must hurt ya’, huh, Marshal?”

The blue eyes burned through him to his soul and Croker shifted uncomfortably. The intense eyes quivering his stomach, nervousness causing him to shout out. “Do it someplace else!”

Twenty minutes passed in the stillness of the holding area, the only sound the breaths drawn by both men and the squeaking of the cot as Croker shifted under the intense glare.

“What’s your brother planning?” asked Heath suddenly, catching the slight widening of the dark eyes, the darting of the eyes and the slight jump of the nervous man on the cot.

Croker stilled himself and asked offhandedly, “What are ya’ talking about?”

Smiling, Heath said, “John’s usually a better planner. There must be a reason for his messing up in his rush to get you out.”

“It’s just cause he’s my brother, that’s why. You should know that’s what brothers do for each other.” snapped Croker.

“Not having any, I wouldn’t know.”

Looking at the truth spelled out in the face of the lawman, Croker’s face lit up with delight. Jumping up from the cot, he walked to the bars and laughed.

“It’s true then. Shows how much you know, Marshal Bastard! Your brothers brought you in yesterday.”

Jerking up from the chair and throwing it to the side, Heath’s face turned cold, “What the hell are you talking about, Croker?”

The evil delight showed in the prisoner’s face, his eyes lighting up. “I heard the widow Barkley say to those two boys you were their brother.”

His fist grabbed the shirt through the bars and he yanked Croker forward, slamming his head up against the metal. Looking into the dark eyes, Heath’s stomach lurched seeing the truth revealed there.

Flashing, the scenes played out in his mind since his arrival in Stockton.

His mind saw the looks on the brothers when they first saw his face. His mind saw the stunned look of Dr. Merar. His mind saw the sideways looks when he walked down the boardwalks in this town.

Pushing the man back on the cot, he jerked open the outer door, the slam cutting off the laughter and taunts. Billy jumped and turned at the unexpected noise, the face of the marshal frightening him, the fury in the voice cold and deadly.

“Which way’s the Barkley ranch?”

The pounding on the front door was answered by Silas. Opening the door, he was stunned for a moment by the forcible anger being exuded from the blonde man with the marshal’s badge.

“Can I’s help ya?” asked Silas quietly.

“I want to see the Barkleys.” stated Heath through clenched jaws, the ride over not tempering his anger a bit, only further enraging him from the thoughts running amuck in his head.

“I’s’ll let ‘em know.”

Gently pushing the elderly man aside, the marshal replied firmly, “No. I’ll let them know.”

Silas’ protests went unheeded as the blonde stalked towards the voices in the parlor. Heath’s unexpected arrival stopped the voices and his eyes were riveted on the young woman standing in front of the group.

Audra had turned towards the direction of the others’ eyes, the startled gasps of the two blondes could be heard through the stillness of the room. Walking over, Heath stared at the young lady who could be his twin, an almost mirrored reflection of his face.

On their own, his fingers gently touched her cheek before he jerked his hand away as if scorched by her soft skin and stepped abruptly back. Tension straightened his body, making it stiff and rigid.

His sapphire blue eyes, agonized with pain and wonder for a brief moment, before being hardened with fury as he glared at his father’s family.

His voice was cold as the words rang out through the mansion, lasting long after his quick departure.

“It’s true, I’m his bastard son! Damn him for what he did! Damn you for not telling me!”

Chapter 11

The unexpected arrival, cold words and sudden departure from the mansion by their half brother, stunned Nick and Jarrod, stopping their limbs from working. Audra’s confusion at the sight of herself looking back at her was quietly cleared up by her mother.

“He’s our brother?” repeated Audra sitting down in a chair, her legs trembling. “Does Gene know?”

“No, honey.” stated Jarrod. “We were planning to tell you after you finished telling us about your stay in San Francisco with Holly and her aunt.”

“We gotta bring him back.” announced Nick jumping up and heading to the door.

“NICHOLAS!” shouted his mother. “NOT NOW!”

Stopping his progress, Nick walked back, “But Mother, Heath’s...”

“Heath’s not going to listen. He’s too angry and hurt now.” explained Victoria sadly, thinking of the cold blue eyes which matched the cold voice. “You’ll be speaking to a brick wall.”

Jarrod sighed in agreement, walking over to his younger brother and squeezing his shoulder. Neither man was ready to let a brother walk away from them without a fight.

Having discussed it during the day with their Mother, they’d finally decided the best way was to ask Heath to Jarrod’s office tomorrow and break the news of his heritage to him. Only it appeared they were a day late.

“Mother’s right, Nick. We have to give him time to calm down. At this point, anything we say to him would fall on deaf ears.”

Nodding, Nick felt the tension leaving his body. “What are we gonna do if he won’t listen? He probably thinks we weren’t ever gonna say anything!”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, Nicholas.” advised Victoria standing and wrapping an arm around her shaken daughter.

“I suggest we come up with a way to get Heath to agree to meet with us. Somehow, I don’t think it will be easy.”

The pounding of Charger’s hooves matched the beat of his rider’s heart. The beating the only sounds in the night, his eyes not seeing anything except the flashing of the faces before him.

The small cabin he had grown up in could fit in the foyer of the mansion. The luxury, a sharp contrast to the poverty, his mother and he had drowned in.

The froth on Charger’s coat woke within him the realization of his actions. Stopping the massive horse, he dismounted and leaned against the saddle. The leather cooling his brow from the fever of fury whipping around inside him.

“Sorry old friend.” whispered the marshal, his hand rubbing the bay’s nose. “A walk’ll do us both good.”

Tugging on the reins, the horse followed as his master walked. His mind running wild with thoughts, the only emotions in him, confusion and anger. He could feel the old wildness welling within him, the old fury he had fought to control over the years, questions repeating themselves over and over.

“How could Tom Barkley, the supposed great man, do that to his mother? How could he let his mother suffer that way? Did his family know all this time he existed?”

“Why didn’t the Barkleys say something when we first met? Would it have made a difference if they had? Isn’t a regular family with brothers and sisters what he always wanted growing up?”

The last question stopping his walk under the moonless sky.

A harsh laughter escaped his lips, “Should’ve been careful what I wished for as a child. What the hell am I gonna do with it now that I got it?”

The night passed as he walked back into Stockton, his steps had grown tired but he hadn’t climbed back on his horse. He wanted to let the exhaustion of his body wrack him, in hopes, it would stop the torment in his mind.

Checking in with the deputy, he stabled his horse and walked down to the hotel. He lay on the bed exhausted from the self-punishment to his body. Closing his eyes, he slept terribly, harshness of his past reliving itself in his dreams.

Waking in the early morning, he looked in the mirror and stared at the haunted face. His cold eyes staring back at him, his mind struggling to get past the turmoil, which had been revived in him.

Angry at the weakness his emotions were able to bring out in him, the turmoil they created. He just wanted to shut out the questions, shut out his thoughts and escape this place. Heath knew staying in this place would only pile more anguish on top of an already frightfully painful past and life.

He headed down to the depot to await the arrival of the other marshals, his decision on his course of action already made.

Chapter 12

Only a few of his closest friends, all fellow lawmen, knew the circumstances of Heath Thomson’s birth and subsequent difficult life. Only those few were trusted enough by the quiet man with this knowledge. Only those few had seen the recklessness that lay beneath the surface of the man, kept under control by a tight rein.

One of these few was Jack Larkin.

He’d been an acquaintance of Frank Sawyer’s when he first hired the young deputy. When an opening appeared in his unit, Jack Larkin recruited Heath Thomson into the marshal service one year later.

The quickness of reflexes, the tenacity, the courage and the workings of his mind were a veritable gold mine to the marshal service. The two worked closely with each other and over the years formed a steel bond of trust.

Stepping off the train in Stockton, Jack’s eyes took in the look on the face of his protégé. His eyes narrowing at the sight of the two guns strapped to Heath’s narrow hips. The other two marshals, Fogerty and Nichols, shook Heath’s hand and greeted him warmly before they walked to the sheriff’s office.

Jack Larkin, senior marshal, relieved the deputy placing Fogerty in the jail and Nichols on the roof across the street. Motioning to Heath, Jack walked to the restaurant he had noticed and seated them in a corner.

Ordering breakfast for both, they drank coffee and he waited patiently. Looking at the blonde, Jack pointed out quietly, “I didn’t know ya’ was back to wearing two guns.”

“No rule against it, Jack.” responded Heath quietly.

“It’s been a long time since ya’ done that. You looking to hunt someone?”

“John Freemont. He’s up to something, I can sense in my gut I’m right. Now, I just have to figure out what it is.” explained Heath with a frown. “No one will be safe while he’s running around.”

Nodding in agreement, Jack sighed, “You’re right, Heath. He’s a bad one all right. Why do ya’ think he’s up to something.”

Explaining the bungled break out attempt, the obvious lack of planning and Luke Croker’s reactions in the cell later, Jack chuckled, “Ya’ probably took ten years off Freemont’s life when he heard your voice.”

The laughter between the friends was cutoff by the stiffening of Heath’s body and the arrival of two men and two women into the restaurant. The whispered curse from the man beside him had Jack looking at Heath in surprise.

Heath had not expected to see them so soon, he was not prepared to meet them again.

His blue eyes were pleading as his voice whispered, “I found out last night those people are my father’s family. I need to get out of Stockton. Let me work on finding out what Freemont is up to. Let me handle that end of it. I need time, Jack.”

“You promise to stay in control and focus on your job?” whispered Jack receiving a quick nod of agreement.

Two things about Marshal Heath Thomson, he didn’t lie and he didn’t ask for favors. His asking for this favor reflected how much Heath was in turmoil, how much staying here would affect him and his work.

“Okay, I’ll handle it.” whispered Jack and then quickly added. “You better use the wire service to keep in touch, boy. I’ll give you the time you need. Then, we’ll talk.”

The two marshals stood up and nodded to the group of people slowly approaching the table. Nick’s steps stopped at the two guns on his brother, his questioning hazel eyes raised and looked into the cool blue ones.

Heath introduced the Barkleys to his superior. Jarrod introduced his sister to both men. Cordially greeting the family, Jack Larkin turned and spoke, “You best get going Thomson and let me know what you find out.”

“Yes, sir.” nodded Heath, tipping his hat to the women and escaping the suffocating restaurant.

Nick turned to follow and was stopped by the firm voice, “I’d leave your brother alone, if I was you, Mr. Barkley.”

Chapter 13

Victoria smiled slightly at the older marshal’s choice of words which stopped her headstrong son in his tracks. The other diners in the restaurant had stopped and stared at the resemblance between Audra Barkley and the young marshal. The gossip mongers were going to have a field day with this scandal.

Jarrod calmly suggested that perhaps this conversation best take place in the haven of his office down the street. Agreeing, Jack Larkin followed the Barkleys to the attorney’s office, stopping briefly to speak with Sheriff Maden and watching with concerned eyes when Heath rode out of town on his mission.

The eyes of the Barkleys followed until they could no longer see the back of Heath. Unlocking the door, the small group entered and the prying eyes of Stockton were shut out.

Jack leaned against the wall and listened to the conversation intently. The whole family was genuinely concerned over the welfare of Heath and his reaction of the previous night.

Nick Barkley ranted and raved over his leaving. The concern showed in his hazel eyes, the worry over the welfare of this new brother who was wearing two guns.

Clearing his throat, Jack replied calmly, “If I may, Mrs. Barkley.”

“Certainly, Marshal Larkin.” conceded Victoria.

“Heath’s primary focus right now is his job. That is what he’s here for. That’s where I need him to be. If he has other things on his mind, he can’t effectively do his job. That, in itself, would be a danger to all present and not acceptable to him or myself.”

“Take him off the job then.” snapped Nick. “Bring him back!”

Chuckling, Jack shook his head, “If you get to know your brother, you’ll soon come to realize your request is not an easy thing.”

“If, Marshal Larkin?” inquired Jarrod. “Are you saying Heath may choose to not come back? He may choose to leave us behind without giving us a chance?”

All eyes of the family turned to the marshal. Sighing, Jack straightened and met the eyes of all.

Walking to the door, he put his hand on the gold knob and looked back at the gathered family, “Heath Thomson is my friend. He’s an honorable, decent, courageous man and a damn good marshal. He’d be a welcome addition to any family, but he won’t let you take him by force. If he can’t give it freely, he won’t give it at all.”

Meeting each of their eyes, Larkin asked quietly, “What would you do in his boots? How would you react after twenty-four years of having no knowledge of your father’s family? How would you handle the questions and turmoil in your mind?”

The closing door was the only sound in the room as each of the family members tried to work their way around Larkin’s final words and the questions he asked.

What would they have done in Heath’s place?

After several minutes ticked slowly by, Nick smiled ruefully, thinking he may have done the same thing. After using his fists, he’d have worked it in his mind and rolled it around before deciding what the future would be. He’d have done it on his own and away from the source of the turmoil.

Looking into the eyes of his older brother, both men nodded in agreement of their unspoken thoughts.

They’d give him time to wrap his mind around it before finding him and grabbing the running bull by the horns.

Chapter 14

John Freemont was hopping mad and everyone around him knew it. His voice thundered throughout the cave, creating an echo that drove the words into the ears of the others several times. His behavior of today no different than his furious words and behavior of yesterday.

He was so close to the big score and yet, further away then he had been all his life. He needed his little brother’s expertise to help pull it off. He didn’t have time to find anyone else, the deadline was fast approaching.

Pacing angrily, he shook his head. Luke had to go and get himself caught. Hell, that murder was three years old. He didn’t get caught for three years! Then four weeks before the job, his tail gets caught in a sling! His ass dragged back here by Marshal Thomson!

Thomson! It would have to be him. Couldn’t be some green lawman, some sane lawman. No! It had to be the crazy one!

Stalking outside the cave, Freemont walked through the trees and to a stream. Staring at the rushing water, his mind traveled back to the last time the two met. His hand unconsciously rubbed the scars on his right side. One from a bullet, the other from a doctor’s scalpel.

The round scar from the bullet Marshal Thomson sent into his body before falling unconscious from Freemont’s own pieces of lead in his shoulder and leg. Thomson’s bullet had burst his appendix and he almost died. He had lain in bed three weeks after the last meeting between them.

Heath Thomson had been the only lawman who’d ever come close to catching him. Now, he was here, showing up again like a bad penny.

Sighing loudly, he sat up against a tree and contemplated his next move. How to get Luke out of that jail?

Blasting in there with guns, hadn’t worked. No, the sheriff had been prepared and the place turned out to be locked up tighter than a barroom whore until you paid money for her services.

That damn Thomson and his smart mouth. “I’ll trade him for you!” Marshal smart ass.

Jerking his head up, Freemont listened to the words in his head. An evil look ran across the dark face and his laughter melded in with the rushing waters of the stream. Hurrying back to the cave, he gathered his crew around and laid out the plan. Looking at one another, the men rushed to saddle their horses.

Before departing Stockton, Marshal Thomson stopped at the telegraph office and the office of the Stockton Gazette. Obtaining a couple of newspapers, he shoved them in his saddlebags and continued his way out of town in the same direction Freemont had fled.

Riding at a canter, he followed the trail as far as he could. Dismounting, he walked and studied the ground trying to discern new tracks from old. Looking up at the mountains in the distance, he weighed the options in his mind. He went with his hunch to travel further in the mountains.

Stopping at a small stream, he unsaddled Charger and watered him. Picketing him on some grass, the horse rolled a few times before starting his early dinner. Drinking from the stream, Heath filled his canteen and grabbed a piece of jerky.

Leaning up against a tree, he took a small notebook out of his pocket and with a snub of a pencil, wrote Luke Croker on the top of the page. Under the name, he listed everything he could remember or had heard about the man.

On a separate piece of paper, he wrote John Freemont’s name and created a similar list. Having hunted Freemont’s trail before, he had to use two sheets for everything he knew about his former prey.

On another page, he wrote down a list of jobs Freemont could be contemplating.

Opening the saddle bags, he took out the San Francisco, Sacramento and Modesto papers. Opening the San Francisco paper, he started reading. His eyes scanning the articles for anything that’d be happening in the upcoming weeks. It would be an event involving a lot of money or it would involve things that could be easily exchanged into money.

It wouldn’t be gold – that’s too heavy and bulky. It wouldn’t be guns – too heavy and bulky. It had to be something they could move through the criminal underworld quickly. It could be jewels or opium.

Opium? No, Heath thought. That’s out of Freemont’s league. Nasty stuff, that opium and nasty people to deal with. Besides, that’d be bulky.

Jewels or money? Had to be one of those things. You can fit a lot of both in saddlebags.

Course, a lot would also depend on how he was planning on disposing of the merchandise for cash. On another page, Heath created a list of the fences that he knew by name. Some of them only dealt in small amounts of money and merchandise, others could handle anything given the necessary amount of time.

Looking at his watch, Heath jumped up and saddled Charger. Bending to pick up the Sacramento and Modesto papers, his eyes spied a small headline on the front page from the city up north.

“Crown Jewels of Russia Coming to Sacramento Museum”

“If that’s it, why would he need Luke Croker? What’s so damn special about him?” asked Heath out loud after reading the article. Putting the papers away, he turned Charger towards Lodi.

Arriving just before the closing of the telegraph office, Marshal Thomson read the wires waiting for him and stood patiently, waiting for the responses to the new wires he sent. The telegrapher waited angrily, not happy to be kept after hours by the lawman.

The tapping of the key alerted both men, Heath leaned over the shoulder of the agitated man, reading as he wrote.

An hour later with a nice tip handed to the telegrapher, Heath left the telegraph office and mounted. Riding out of Lodi, he bedded down in the trees on his way north to Sacramento.

Chapter 15

Six days later, Jack Larkin was woken from a sound sleep by Fogarty pounding on his hotel room door. Talking briefly, Larkin dressed quickly and rushed to the Sheriff’s office with the other marshal.

Opening the door, he walked full force into the raging bull of the Barkley family.

“WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO?” shouted Nick in Marshal Nichols’ stoic face.

“Nick, calm down.” stated Jarrod his hand on the black vested shoulder.

“Mr. Barkley, tell me what happened.”

Nick turned at the older marshal’s voice, “SOMEBODY TOOK OUR SISTER!”

“I understand that. How did it happen?” replied Larkin calmly.

“WHAT THE HELL DIFFERENCE DOES IT MAKE? GET HER BACK!”

Putting a hand on Nick’s arm, Jarrod replied, “Marshal Larkin, this afternoon Audra was on her way back from the orphanage with our butler, Silas Whiting. According to Silas, they were accosted, he was struck unconscious and Audra was gone when he came to. This note was in the surrey.”

Handing the note over, Jack Larkin frowned at the words.

A fair trade.

A Barkley for A Croker

Morada. North of town.

Friday morning.

“Where is your mother, Mrs. Barkley.”

“Under guard at our ranch.” gruffed Nick. “Give me Croker and I’ll make the trade!”

“No, I think not, Mr. Barkley.” stated Larkin calmly.

Turning to Fogarty, he ordered, “Wire Thomson in Lodi and let him know what’s happened. Use the code to keep the information private.”

“He’s only one man. What’s he gonna do?” asked Nick in disgust after the door closed after Fogarty.

“His job, Mr. Barkley.” snapped Larkin in defense of his absent marshal.

Rolling his eyes, Nick waved his hands in resignation. “This is a waste of time. We shoulda took some men and gone after her ourselves, Jarrod.”

Shooting Nick an angry look, Jarrod asked, “How do you think wiring Heath will get Audra back, Marshal?”

Sitting on the desk, Marshal Larkin looked both brothers in the eye, “Marshal Thomson was able to locate the whereabouts of John Freemont and his men in the mountains. He is keeping them under surveillance. That’s certainly where they will take your sister and that’s where Thomson will take her back.”

“What if he can’t get her back?” growled Nick.

“Mr. Barkley, of course I can’t promise with one hundred percent certainty, Thomson will get her back. We should try this avenue before we are forced to trade Croker.”

“What exactly can you promise?” inquired Jarrod.

“I can promise Marshal Thomson will do whatever is necessary to get your sister back or die trying.” sighed Larkin, his words impacting both brothers severely by the looks on their faces, their new brother’s life may be exchanged for their sister’s.

“If he doesn’t succeed, we’ll have to do as the note decrees.”

Chapter 16

Heath had found the hideout by a fluke on his way back from Sacramento where he met with the marshals based there. Going over the information together, all the marshals had ascertained the jewelry heist was undoubtedly the best possible target.

Increasing this possibility was the uncovered talent of Luke Croker, explosives expert. The museum would be keeping the crown jewels in an inner room with a steel door on a timer, the only entry point.

Also, add to the mix was one Frank Croker, a cousin, who was the night janitor at the museum, securing the job six months earlier. This was how John Freemont knew the jewels were arriving and had time to create his plan of attack.

This was perhaps one of the biggest jobs Freemont had ever planned. The cash alone he could get for the jewels, if he succeeded, was enough allow him to live out the rest of his days comfortably.

Leaving Sacramento and the marshals who would be ensuring the safety of the crown jewels, Heath stopped in the mountains back in the trees. Hearing horses coming, he had pulled Charger back further and covered his nose, whispering softly keeping their position hidden as he watched Freemont and his men heading down the mountain.

His eyes narrowed and he controlled the urge to leap out at the group. Waiting for several minutes, he backtracked them to their point of origin. The cave was empty but all their items remained, clear indication they would be back.

Riding to Lodi, he wired Stockton and received his orders to maintain surveillance on the group. The order was received with a mixture of relief and dread.

Relief that he would not be returning to Stockton.

Dread that while his father’s family was physically in Stockton miles away, mentally they were all in his head.

Maintaining surveillance only meant it would be harder to not think about them, to keep them out of his head and his questions at bay.

‘An idle mind is the devil’s playground’ thought Heath with a shake of his head, scolding himself mentally at his dark thoughts.

Every two days, he would ride to Lodi in the late afternoon and check for wires. The coded words on the paper caused a dark fury to build within him. Audra Barkley appeared to be just barely past eighteen years old.

Freemont and his men were not fit to have an innocent lady like that in their midst. Crumpling the paper in his fist, he had made his way back to the mountains.

Tying Charger two miles from the hidden camp of John Freemont, Heath exchanged his boots for moccasins and checked his guns. The sun was rapidly falling and nighttime would be covering the mountains shortly as he ran through the woods sure-footed on his way to his destination. The wire from Stockton had thrown him for a loop, Freemont was upping the ante in the game.

In the quiet of the early night, Heath Thomson lay on his stomach, his neutral clothing blending in with the scenery around him. His moccasins allowing him to sneak up close without snapping a branch or twig which would alert the unsuspecting group. His prowess in the woods learned from the time he spent in the company of Charlie Whitehorse. It had proved a useful tool over the years in his profession as a marshal.

Heath’s muscles were tense, his body unmoving as he watched the cave. His eyes searching for a way to get the prisoner without shots being fired. He didn’t want to take the chance on Audra being hit by a stray bullet.

His eyes narrowed as the woman was led forcibly out of the cave and down to the river. Crawling slowly backwards for several yards, he climbed to his feet and worked his way in the same direction.

Stumbling from the yanking on the rope tied around her wrists, Audra fell to her knees and cried out in pain from the rock cutting open her knee.

“Come on, missy.” smirked one of her captors, his eyes leering at her disheveled hair and dress torn. Grabbing her by the arm, he pulled her roughly down the faint path to the river. Pushing her onto the ground, Audra scrambled away not heeding the rough terrain beneath her hands and legs.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” she screamed when he grabbed her from behind and pulled her to him. Her nails racking his face, leaving four tracks of red in their wake.

Enraged, he slapped her cheek with a backhand and his hands bruised her arms from the brute force. Crying out in pain, she fell back to the ground when his hands were abruptly released and reached upwards.

Staring, she scrambled to her feet and watched the man struggle against the muscular arm of her half brother around his neck. The veins in the man’s forehead bulged, his struggle ceasing after a sudden snapping sound broke the air. Dropping him to the ground, Heath took the knife from his boot and cut the ropes from her wrists.

A voice shouting a question to the lifeless prone man had Heath taking a hold of her hand, he whispered, “We gotta run, Miss Barkley.”

Leading her into the trees, she struggled to keep up as the night fell around them and her marshal brother pushed on.

“Uncle John, Harry’s dead!” shouted his nephew rushing into the cave. “His neck’s broke.”

Freemont jumped up and stared at his nephew, “That Barkley girl couldn’t have done that! Someone took her from us! FIND HIM!”

The group split up and ran to the trees, each taking a different direction from their camp.

Looking up at the sky, Heath mumbled, “Would have to be a full moon.”

Audra stumbled, her hand slipping out of his and she fell onto the pine needle cushion. Kneeling beside her, Heath tilted her face up and stared at the bruise on her cheek, the same cheek his fingers had touched a week ago.

Audra gasped for air from their rapid flight, her leg bleeding. Taking out his handkerchief, Heath wrapped it around the deep cut on her knee. Tying it tightly to stop the bleeding, apologizing when the movement caused her to bite her lip, stopping the outcry from the pain.

“Heath, thank you for..” stammered Audra, her eyes filling with tears at the thought of what could’ve happened.

“Don’t cry. It’s okay.” assured Heath gruffly, hesitantly wiping her tears off her cheeks. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, I promise.”

Nodding, she startled at the sound of crashing coming from the path through the trees they had taken. Helping her up, Heath pulled her after him, slower this time. Charger was only a half mile away. The noises behind them were getting closer.

Throwing Audra in the saddle, Heath untied the reins and lead the horse through the trees to the trail. Climbing up behind her, he kicked Charger into a gallop heading quickly down the mountain. The safety of the woman in front of him, his only priority in life right now.

Riding double was hard on any animal, even one as strong as Charger. Heath pulled up and dismounted in front of a farm house. Knocking on the door, Heath explained the situation, the farmer nodded and led the Marshal into the barn.

Ten minutes later, the two blondes were riding on their way back to Stockton and an enraged, deadly fury was building within Freemont. Marshal Thomson had taken his ace in the hole away, destroying his carefully built dreams and plans with that one move. Retribution would be swift and deadly.

In the early morning light, dismounting in front of Dr. Merar’s office, Heath reached up and helped Audra from Charger, swinging her up in his arms when she collapsed from exhaustion.

He kicked open the door and carried her inside, ordering a shocked Mrs. Merar to fetch another marshal.

Chapter 17

After laying the unconscious woman on an examining table, Heath was pushed out of the room by the physician. Standing in the waiting room, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.

Mrs. Merar brought Jack Larkin with her. Leaving the two lawmen in the waiting room, she went to assist her husband.

“Heath, when’s the last time you slept?” inquired Jack, the dark circles reflecting under the closed eyes of his young marshal.

Shrugging, Heath sighed, “Haven’t slept much since I left here.”

“Go to the hotel and get some rest. I’ll stay here.”

Shaking his head, Heath replied, “I’ll wait until I see how Miss Barkley is or til the rest of her family arrives. Did you send someone out to the ranch?”

Rolling his eyes, Jack shook his head at the man’s streak of cussedness, “They’re not at the ranch. The deputy’s on his way to the hotel to get the Barkleys.”

Several minutes passed before the front door opened and the family entered. Heath opened his eyes, briefly looked at them and said quietly, “Dr. Merar is with Miss Barkley, now.”

“Thank you Heath for bringing her back to us.” smiled Victoria gently, placing a hand upon his arm.

“It’s my job, ma’am. Excuse me.” replied Heath departing through the door the family had just entered, untying the horses and walking them down the street.

Watching the man retreat again, Nick looked at his mother, “If he won’t stay still, how’re we supposed to talk to him?”

Chuckling, Jarrod smiled, “Does seem to be a bit of a problem, doesn’t it?”

“Personally, I’d wait until the trial is over. Until then, there’s gonna be too many other distractions.” stated Marshal Larkin in an offhand manner.

Nick smiled slightly and cleared his throat, “I thought you said Heath was, uh, is a friend of yours?”

Jack grinned, “He is. Sometimes even friends need a hard shove in the right direction.”

Marshal Nichols appeared as Dr. Merar was updating the group on Audra. A state of complete exhaustion and bruises were the only remnants of her ordeal. Marshal Nichols took over Larkin’s spot in the waiting room. Until the trial which was scheduled to start in four days was over, the Barkleys were under protection.

Jack walked into the livery and helped Heath care for the horses. Heath filled his superior in on the whereabouts of Freemont as they walked to the hotel. Heath climbed the stairs and collapsed on the bed in exhaustion. His mind and body shut down in a deep sleep.

Hours later, he was waken when a hand clamped down hard over his mouth and two men held his arms. In the late afternoon light filtering in through the window, his blue eyes seethed with rage at the sight of Freemont above him.

“This time, you’re dead.”

Heath threw his body to the side, Freemont lost his balance and fell to the floor. The two men yanked him off the bed by his arms and threw him against the wall. His body landed hard, sending him to the floor dazed. Lunging at Freemont from the floor, he took the man down and pummeled him with his fists.

Turning towards the other two men, pain exploded in his head from the butt of a gun. Falling on his side, the kicks to his body overtook the pain in his head. His vision graying, his movements stopping, the vicious ambush over within a matter of minutes.

Stepping back and wiping his face, Freemont pointed to the bloody marshal on the floor. “Get rid of it.”

The men picked up the lax man between them. Standing in front of the window, they tossed the marshal out and onto the street of dirt below. Leaving the room, they ran down the back stairs of the hotel.

Fred Maden and Jack Larkin watched the body of Marshal Thomson fly through the window and land with a thud on the street below. People screamed in terror as the glass rained down onto the man and in the street. Rushing over, Jack knelt down and reached to turn him.

Fred stopped him, “No! Don’t move him! Someone get Dr. Merar!”

The desk clerk ran down the street and Jack Larkin ran up the stairs into the hotel. Shots rang out further down the street from the jail.

“Stay with him. Don’t let anyone move him til the doc gets here.” yelled Fred to the telegrapher before running down the street. Larkin ran out of the hotel, following the sheriff’s path.

Entering the jail, Marshal Fogarty lay dead from shots to the chest and Luke Croker was gone.

Chapter 18

Jarrod and Nick ran up the street with Dr. Merar, the desk clerk’s frantic screams of what happened still wringing in their ears. They knelt beside their bloody brother in the dirt. Howard felt the weak pulse and called out, “Get something we can carry him to the office on.”

In a matter of minutes, a sheet of wood appeared at the physician’s request. Running his hands over the battered marshal, the fear could be seen on the doctor’s face.

Looking at the brothers, Howard said quietly. “Put the board under him. Nick. Jarrod. I need your help to turn him over. I have to keep his neck straight, there’s something wrong with his back. When I tell you, gently move him over at the same time and I’ll hold his neck in place.”

When the turning was done, Howard sighed with relief. “Now, I have to hold his head straight as we walk, just as a precaution. When we carry the board keep it as level as you can. We’ll have to take it very slow.”

Jarrod, Nick, Fred and Jack all slowly raised the board. The walk to the office, a short ways away took over ten minutes, precious red liquid continued to drain and drip off the board, spattering a trail behind them.

Marshal Nichols held open the door and stared at the sight of his fellow officer on the board. Victoria and Helen Merar gasped in shock and rushed to an examining room. Placing the board on a bed, Larkin and Fred informed the Barkleys of the escape and left the office with Marshal Nichols.

Several agonizing hours passed before Dr. Merar entered the waiting room to speak to the Barkley family.

Sitting in a chair, he sighed deeply. “Victoria, I won’t lie to you. Heath’s in a bad way. He’s got a concussion, couple fractured ribs, broken left collar bone, broken left wrist, numerous cuts, bruises and a lacerated spleen. I was able to stop the internal bleeding from the spleen with surgery.”

“What about his back?” asked Nick.

“Somebody stomped on his back, the lower part of it is very swollen.”

“Will he be able to walk, Howard?” whispered Victoria, her complexion paled while she comprehended the injuries in her mind.

“It’ll be a while before we know if that will happen. We have to wait for the swelling to subside. For now, we can only keep him strapped down in place, keep him from moving as a precaution, in case his back’s broken.”

Holding his sobbing mother’s hand, Jarrod’s eyes filled with tears from the thought of the brutality needed to inflict these kinds of injuries. His voice shook with fear, “Will he live, Dr. Merar.”

“I don’t know Jarrod. He started running a low temperature and he’s very weak. He hasn’t regained consciousness yet. I just don’t know.”

“I wanna see him.” demanded Nick jumping up to his feet.

Ignoring the shout of his mother, Nick asked Mrs. Merar to leave and closed the door.

Tears formed in his eyes at the pale ghost of the man laying tied to the board. Walking over, he ran his eyes over the injuries taking in each one. The anger in him rising with each bruise, each injury, each cut he saw.

The once handsome face now marred with bruises and cuts from the glass. His ribs partially wrapped, a bandage covering the incision from the surgery. His left wrist wrapped, his left arm in a sling, his breaths uneven and his cheeks flushed with fever. Taking a cloth, Nick gently wiped the sweat from his face and neck.

In Nick’s mind, it was hard to believe just a little more than a week ago, this man had ridden into town hauling in a man, who unknown to him, had murdered his own father. This man had dodged bullets to save their mother’s life. This man in a cold furious voice had condemned them all and then, a few days later saved their sister.

This man! This marshal! His brother!

Looking closely at the still face for any sign of movement, Nick sighed deeply and stood up. His eyes catching sight of the star on the table next to the bed.

Sitting in a chair, he held the badge in his palm and wiped it clean of dust and blood. His fist curled around it and his tears fell freely, vowing to protect the last gift his father sent to him.

Standing and leaning over, Nick spoke loudly in his ear, “YOU GOT BARKLEY BLOOD IN YOU, HEATH THOMSON. BARKLEYS ARE NOT QUITTERS! YOU HEAR ME? WE DON’T QUIT! LISTEN TO ME, BOY!”

Chapter 19

The wakening from the darkness which absconded and threatened to steal the injured man was a torturous sight to witness five days later.

The first signs of the return from the darkness was the attempt to move his arms and legs. This attempt was met with resistance on all fronts.

The second sign was the small movement of his head which only awarded the two watchers pain filled moans.

The eyelids fluttered and his eyes moved rapidly beneath them, his breathing quickened as the wakening increased along with the threshold of the pain. His lids half-opened, the eyes were glazed with pain and fear.

Cursing mixed with moans, tears ran from the corners of his eyes, sweat reformed on his face and neck from the onslaught of pain.

His quick breaths only heightened the pain, his ribs felt as if they were going to explode inside his chest, his back was engulfed in fire.

Howard was shouting to get past the terror of pain surrounding the patient. “Heath, slow your breathing! MARSHAL!”

Pushing the physician aside, Nick leaned over and yelled, “HEATH, SETTLE DOWN! HEATH, BREATH SLOWER! LISTEN TO ME, BOY!”

The forceful, demanding words reached through the pain. He’d heard that deep voice when he was in the darkness, that voice was always there, urging him on, talking to him.

That demanding voice acted like a shining beacon, keeping him from falling into the dark hole he had been straddling. His glazed eyes turned to the owner of the voice and they widened with surprise.

“That’s it, Heath…Now settle down…I know it hurts, boy...I know.” The demanding voice replaced with a soothing tone, it’s owner’s hand clasping his right one.

The sluggish blue eyes moved from the hazel ones and glanced down the length of his body. Widening in shock at the restraints around his arms and legs, his breaths quickening, earning him another blast of Barkley shouts in his ear.

“DAMMIT, BREATH SLOWER!”

Moaning from the pain, Heath closed his eyes and fought to obey as the thundering voice demanded. Several minutes passed before they slowly opened again.

Pain filled his words coming out in gasps, “Hope…other …guy….worse..”

Grinning in relief, Nick cupped his cheek, “Take some pain medicine and we’ll talk about it later.”

“Twit...brain”

“Did you just call me a twit brain?” growled Nick in astonishment.

Howard chuckled at the confusion in both sets of eyes, “It’s okay for now to be twitter-brained. I know you don’t like to take laudanum, but you’re not gonna be able to return to marshaling for a little while, Heath.”

“How…long…til” Pain flew across the bruised face and his body tensed as he fought to control it, the grip on Nick’s hand was making it numb.

Nick’s eyes widened from the depth of the pain. His voice again heard through everything else. “SLOW BREATHS, HEATH! SLOWER!”

The blue eyes slowly reopened and looked at the physician. Confusion reflected openly and they turned to Nick, the beacon.

“Shot…back” asked Heath, his brow scrunched up in confusion.

“You weren’t shot. You were thrown out a window.” replied Nick catching the puzzled look in the blue eyes. “Don’t you remember?”

“No...” gasped Heath, his head filling with pain after he shook it.

Patting his shoulder, Dr. Merar smiled. “Don’t worry about that now. Let’s work on getting you healed.”

Howard lifted his head slightly, the blonde took the pain killer and chased it with a sip of water. Nick watched as the medicine slowly took affect and the pained, tensed body relaxed under the medicinal spell.

Drowsy blue eyes reflected brief remembrance and shifted over to look in the hazel ones.

“Audra”

Nick said quietly, “You saved her, she’s fine. Go to sleep, little brother.”

The sound of relaxed even breathing filled the air. Nick looked up at the physician and smiled widely.

Chapter 20

With each awakening, through the terrifying wall of pain and panic, one or more of his father’s family would be at his side. The pain and panic with each awakening gradually decreased and anger set in.

At first, Heath had been confused when each time he woke, a Barkley was at his bedside. His confusion turned to anger when his stay in the doctor’s home seemed never ending, further tortured by his inability to move, the dark thoughts over his back injury, uncertainty of his future life and the nonstop, unrequested caring by the Barkleys.

Heath had no remembrance of the altercation in his hotel room which led to his undesired swan dive out the window. He didn’t know who was responsible. He could take a guess, but had no evidence to support his theory, therefore no way to arrest anyone. The only thing he knew was it allowed Freemont the distraction needed to free his murdering brother.

Lawmen up and down the state had been notified after Marshal Fogarty’s death and the frightening assault on Marshal Thomson, a search ensued but Freemont had gone underground. The Crown Jewel exhibit at the Sacramento museum remained untouched by the hands of the criminal.

Three weeks had passed before Dr. Merar stood him on his shaky legs. At Heath’s request, only Jack Larkin had been present to witness the first of the baby steps in his return to full mobility.

Two steps had been all he could manage before he nearly passed out from the pain of the muscle spasms shooting through his back. Jack caught his young friend in his arms, listened to the humming and saw the familiar faraway look.

He saw the questioning look in Dr. Merar’s eyes and later explained away from Heath’s ears, it was similar to self hypnosis. Heath learned to use it in Carterson prison to help get past the beatings and whippings, past the times when he didn’t think his body or soul could take any more. It worked effectively when his mind wasn’t cluttered with fever or pain killer, when he could almost prepare for the pain he knew would be coming.

One week later, Heath was allowed to sit up in chairs. Dr. Merar left his patient alone with the visiting older marshal. Jack studied his friend, his left arm and his plastered wrist in a sling, the only outward signs of the assault and those were coming off today.

Except for an occasional back spasm which would take him completely by surprise, a weakened body and his slower footsteps, Heath was fast mending and on his way back to being whole.

It had been almost six weeks since he stood watching his friend and peer’s body flying out the window and down to the street. Each time he closed his eyes, he could see it as if it were yesterday.

“Jack, how’s Charger?” asked Heath anxious to see his horse again.

“He’s fine. You know you’ll be out of there in no time, Heath.” smiled Jack.

“Yeah, It’ll be a parole from the Barkley jail.” stated Heath sarcastically.

“Heath!”

“Dammit, Jack! They took advantage of me being hurt!” growled Heath.

“They did not! They’re just doing what family does for each other.” snapped Jack.

“How’d they think I was gonna make a sound decision when my head was all full of pain killer. Twitter-brained, I was! Now ya’ know why I hate that stuff!”

Throwing his hands in the air, Jack snorted, ”Twitter-brained! I think you’re hair-brained, maybe even a few oats short of a bushel, boy!”

Shaking his head, Heath replied grimly, “I don’t know why’d they want anything to do with me anyway. That murdering Croker got away cause of me.”

“Croker’s day will come, don’t worry about that. You know, sometimes you are dumber than a mule, Heath Thomson.” stated Jack firmly.

“I AM NOT!” yelled Heath, anger in his voice carrying throughout the room and down the hallway.

“YOU ARE! JUST LISTEN!” shouted Jack, holding out one hand to stop Heath’s words.

Looking into the angry blue eyes, he smiled slightly. Heath had a heart of gold, but allowing people close to him scared the strong man, usually taking a long time and only after it was earned.

“Listen to me! I was here when everyone thought ya’ wasn’t gonna make it. Those people were tortured every minute of the day thinking they’d lose you. No matter what way you look at it, they’re family. Ya’ can run from it, but it’ll always be there right behind you. Family’s like a shadow, boy. It’s attached to you. Ya’ can’t get away from it.” explained Jack quietly, the blue eyes slowly replacing anger with thought.

“I’ve never known you to be a fool, Heath. Stubborn and cantankerous, yes, never a fool.”

Sighing loudly, Heath shifted in the chair and muttered. “I’m not cantankerous!”

Laughing loudly, Jack snorted, “Yeah, right! That’s like saying your brother ain’t as loud as thunder!”

Heath flashed a lop-sided grin to his friend while Jack helped him back onto his feet. His grin disappearing as the reality set in.

“All right, Jack. Just til I’m able to sit a horse and get back to work.”

Playing with his shirt cuff, Heath sighed loudly and nodded.

“You can tell Nick, I’ll go to the Barkley ranch.”

Chapter 21

Pulling up in front of the home of Dr. Merar, Nick jumped down and entered the small building. His grin widening on his tanned face at the sight of Heath slowly walking towards him.

“Looking good, Heath!” stated Nick pleased at his little brother’s progress.

Heath replied, “Feel like an old man.”

“At least you don’t look like one.” teased Nick his remark earning him a sparkle of light in the ocean eyes.

Stopping his painful walk, Heath frowned and fidgeted with his cuff.

“Where are my guns, Nick?” inquired Heath seeing the surprise in the hazel eyes from the question.

Confused hazel eyes looked back at him, “Your guns?”

“Those things that hang off your hips!” snapped Heath, regretting his sharp tone at the innocent man when he flinched.

“Sorry, Nick. Someone recently reminded me I can be a little cantankerous.”

Smiling sheepishly, Nick said, “They’re at the ranch with the rest of your things. I didn’t think you’d need them.”

Heath sighed and looked away from the hazel eyes. His words, were quiet, after his eyes turned back, “I’m a marshal, Nick. Enemies come with that profession.”

Realization spread across Nick’s face and he nodded his understanding, “How about a rifle? I got one in the surrey.”

Getting a nod of agreement, Nick went out and returned with the rifle. Handing it to Heath, his stomach twisted at the instant feeling of security that flashed in his little brother’s eyes.

Holding the door open, Heath shuffled by him and stopped on the boardwalk. His first glimpse of the outside world since his fall into darkness, lay before him.

Nick’s keen hearing caught the mumbled, “Same world, same dreariness.”

The progress to the surrey was painful to Heath. Silently, he wondered if there’d ever be a time when he didn’t feel pain in one form or another. Dr. Merar said his rehabilitation would take time, well, it appeared he had a lot of time on his hands at the moment. His thoughts were stopped by Nick appearing beside him, hands ready to assist him into the surrey.

Heath’s eyes burned into the hazel eyes. Nick stared at him in confusion and then clarity flew through his mind.

“Go ahead Mr. Cantankerous, climb up on your own. I’ll stay besides you just in case a fly comes by and knocks you on your ass.” growled Nick.

Smiling slightly, Heath offered simply, “Old habits are hard to break.”

“I know, sorry.” admitted Nick watching Heath place the rifle on the seat and pull himself into the surrey. Smiling with pride at the movement, knowing he’d have felt the same way, wanting to try it on his own and test his strength.

Climbing in beside him, the brothers drove out of town. Nick talked, filling in his little brother on what was currently happening on the ranch. His words trying to fill up the silence from his little brother who offered no more than an occasional question or comment to his ramblings.

On the outskirts of the ranch, Nick pulled up on the reins, stopping the horses when Heath suddenly stiffened and paled, his breathing changing to rapid gasps, the shocked pain look flying into his eyes.

Grabbing the blonde’s shoulder, he spoke forcefully through the curtain of pain. “Slow breaths, Heath. You can handle it.”

It seemed like an eternity before Heath’s breathing slowed and the spasm passed. He nodded and Nick let go of his shoulder. Wiping the sweat from his face, the color slowly returned to his face.

“Dammit.” growled Heath with a shake of his head. “Now I feel eighty.”

Chuckling in relief, Nick asked, “You wanna try bronco busting when we get home?”

“Gee, let me think on that.” snorted Heath sarcastically. “No!”

Nick’s loud laughter rang across the Barkley range as he started the horses moving towards their destination. Pulling up in front of the mansion, Nick stood by as Heath carefully climbed down. Stumbling slightly when his feet touched the ground, Nick caught him by the arms steadying the shaky man.

Taking a few deep breaths, Heath nodded and he was reluctantly released, “Thanks, Nick.”

“Anytime.” whispered Nick, apprehension showed in the blue eyes staring at the mansion before them. “I’m right here, little brother.”

Looking at Nick, Heath flashed a quick lop-sided grin, hazel eyes puzzled at the accompanying comment.

“Just like a shadow, huh, Nick?”

Chapter 22

Victoria watched Heath groom Charger. The weeks had flown by into three months and his movements were now quick and sure. It had been over a week since his last back spasm.

During his forced rehabilitation, his moods varied from anger to happiness, sadness to despair. Some required no dealing with at all, others the family members dealt with using the love in their hearts.

Dr. Merar had witnessed and been a recipient of all the moods. He was pleased with the fire and spirit that helped the marshal cope in the restrictive time, the will to return to his previous strength, strong in the young man.

Everyday Heath put on his badge whether he left the house or not. The badge of the marshal. During the time of his rehabilitation, Victoria had often wondered if the metal star had made Heath into it’s own type of prisoner.

An honorable profession but one fraught with dangers, one that caused Heath concern for the family’s welfare in the form of retaliation from enemies. He never voiced those concerns to the family, but they could sense it in his inner thoughts from his actions and comments.

There was no doubt he was an asset to the marshal service and good at his profession, but he was good at ranching also.

After two weeks, he worked daily with Nick to build up his strength. His muscles worked slowly at first, he was often gripped by the horrible back spasms. Those things didn’t stop him from working and returning to the ranch exhausted at the day’s end.

Nick was often the only witness to the quick bolt of pain that would drive his brother to his knees. Eventually with time, the length between the spasms increased.

A month after Heath arrived at the ranch, Nick walked out of the house and nearly died from anxiety at the sight of the slow moving Heath in the corral with an unbroken mustang. Jarrod grabbed Nick’s arm to stop his frantic run to the corral, demanding Nick walk to ensure they did not put their brother in further danger by startling the horse.

Walking slowly to the corral, the two brothers stood mesmerized at the happenings before them. Neither moved while Heath worked with the horse and broke it in a manner different than anyone had seen.

After leaving the corral and receiving a full burst of Barkley fury for the reckless act from Nick, Heath shrugged and quietly explained it was better this way for the horse and rider. They trusted people more and were ready to ride faster.

Seeing a new horse follow the marshal boss around the corral still filled the hands and family with awe. His bond with his own stallion, Charger, a testament to the end results.

On occasion, Heath surprised Nick and Jarrod with ideas to improve things around the ranch. Heath would be embarrassed and would leave the room or change the subject at their surprise. These two actions quickly earned him a discussion regarding how family members shouldn’t be embarrassed to extend their ideas or suggestions.

Throughout the three months in Heath’s rehabilitation, he never openly talked about his past. He would join in discussions, sometimes a small part of his past would be revealed without giving details. He’d mentioned places he had seen or people he had met if the discussion warranted it. Otherwise, he did not willingly talk about it.

Today was Heath’s first ride on Charger since the brutal attack.

Today was an independence day for Heath and a day of imprisonment for his family. Heath was closer to his freedom and they were trapped in the prison of his impending departure. Nick and the rest of the family had grown to love the blonde immensely.

Heath’s blue eyes sparkled like the sunshine which glittered on his marshal’s badge, when he dismounted and clapped Nick on the back. The happiness Heath was feeling caused him to miss the sadness in the hazel eyes of his older brother.

While his recovery had been their ultimate goal, it was bittersweet. He had stolen their hearts and he was on his way to stepping back into his profession.

“Mrs. Barkley?” asked Heath quietly, watching the unhidden thoughts on her face as she stood in quiet contemplation. Guilt rose within him, knowing he was the cause of her far away look.

“Oh, sorry, Heath. Guess I was day dreaming.” smiled Victoria. “How was your ride?”

Opening the stall gate, Heath closed it behind him, “Refreshing and invigorating, ma’am.”

Linking her arm in his, Victoria smiled and lead him to the house, “I feel the same way after riding. It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”

Smiling, Heath looked down and nodded, “Sure is, ma’am, especially after all this time.”

“I came to get you for dinner.” stated Victoria.

Patting her hand, Heath teased, “Boy howdy, lord forbid I should miss a meal.”

Laughing, the two entered the house together. Nick and Jarrod glanced at each other when the laughter reached their ears. It sounded so natural and yet Heath wouldn’t call her mother.

She had asked and he had quietly refused, his blue eyes falling away from her intense gaze but not before she had seen the want and desire flare up in his eyes when she said the word, Mother.

Victoria had accepted his refusal and proceeded on as if his refusal hadn’t hurt. Heath strived to find the words to explain the reason, but the words remained elusive.

Eugene arrived home on summer break and quickly formed a friendship with his new brother. He had learned of Heath through letters from the family while he was away at school.

Meeting him for the first time, Gene felt awed at the power and strength displayed before him. Gene witnessed Heath practicing with his pistols and a case of hero worship formed towards his marshal brother. His young mind recalling stories he’d read in dime novel magazines, creating an almost super human image of Heath.

Heath, in his own quiet way, quickly brought Gene out of his hero worship and back to solid ground. He didn’t want his younger brother to glorify the profession. It was what it was. Dangerous, lonely and deadly.

Retiring to the study after dinner, Heath played checkers with Audra while Gene and Nick partook in a game of pool under Jarrod’s gleaming eyes. Gene and Nick sparred back and forth, the others in the room laughing or rolling their eyes at their comments.

“This time, you’re dead.” growled Nick with laughter in his eyes. His smile quickly turning to despair when his attention was directed away by Audra’s shout.

The growled words reverberated through the subconscious of Heath, creating a chink in the armor of his memory. The family saw his hands began to shake uncontrollably, his forehead and face glistened with sweat, his breaths coming in quick gasps. The look in his eyes faraway, angry and tortured.

The scene flashed before him slowly, the violence and brutality awakening him from his cushion of oblivion. The vicious attack by the three men took his breath away, creating a deep fury in him at their near succeeding in the cowardice act.

Lunging up, he fell onto his knees as a spasm shot through him. Kneeling in front of him, Nick held the tense shoulders and sucked in his breath at the hardness in the blue eyes before it was quickly replaced by pain. The steely hardness he hadn’t seen since the night he condemned them in the parlor of their own home.

“I…remember.” gasped Heath, face contorted in pain. “Night....Freemont…dammit”

“Okay, Heath. Just breath slow.” urged Nick, moving his hand to hold the back of the blonde’s neck, squeezing it softly. “Come on, little brother. Listen to me, boy!”

His face slowly lost it’s contorted look, the color returned and his breathing evened out. Heath nodded his gratefulness to the beacon and took the offered hand up.

His remembrance of that night had him clenching his hands in fury, his eyes were an icy cold blue and his face reflected his intention before the words left his mouth.

“I’ll be leaving tomorrow.”

Continued…