Retribution

Chapters 70-84

by Catgirl63

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

Chapter 70

Two dark skinned hands, sinewy as leather, held the reins firmly between thin strong fingers. The small framed man sitting on the bench seat of the wagon hummed a hymn of praise for the giver of life to all. The hymn had been sung through generations and generations of his family, passed from one to the next and being without knowledge of his own family’s whereabouts, he was honored to pass his vast repertoire to the children of others in his church.

If anyone looked at the older man driving the team down the well worn trail towards town, they’d have at first glance, speculated he was calm and unafraid of being on the road winding around hills and crossing small streams.

Upon closer scrutiny of his dark eyes, they’d have seen not fear but a wariness born of living in a land where the unexpected could kill you and send you to meet your maker before your time. A land tamed in some aspects and yet rugged as the day the ancient lakes receded leaving behind a land blessed by fertile ground warmed by glorious sunshine.

Silas glanced around as he drove, his eyes moving up and down the sides of the trail, searching for anything out of the ordinary, any foreign to the path he’d been over at least a thousand times, more or less in the years past.

The older man had been surprised and taken back for a moment at the request made of him. To outsiders, he may be no more than the black man who cooked and cleaned for the rich Barkley family but he knew to those inside the grand house, he was so much more just as they were so much more to him. He’d been taken back by the deepness of faith and trust swelling his heart made by their request.

The faces of the Barkley family had been filled with anxiety and an almost desperate nervousness of their plan. He could see in their eyes how important their request was but also how they almost grudgingly made the request, afraid to place their friend and family member in such a position.

Because of the looming threat against those associated with the newest son, Silas readily agreed to meet the task in hand. He understood the importance of the information needed and the necessity of everyone to get this time of danger behind them so they could move forward.

This outside threat needed to be disposed of so the blond son lying in a bed on the second floor and the patriarch of the clan could use the time together in building upon their young relationship. They needed an environment free from having to look over their shoulders to shore up the rocky base they were both balancing on. Both men were teetering and shifting upon the loose sands which hadn’t had a chance yet to settle and solidify.

With the description of the man he sought to locate in Stockton firmly ingrained in his mind by Evangeline and her father, Silas had cast a wide smile of reassurance upon the family watching from the doorway before he slapped the reins to move the team towards the front gate.

Silas Whiting born into slavery and now a free man would do anything for the family who took him in, taught him to read and write, clothed and feed him at a time when they could barely feed and clothe themselves. Their first look upon him with their eyes had been with a compassion and friendship he hadn’t seen in the eyes of anyone else.

The newly married couple of a young Thomas and Victoria Barkley welcomed him into their home and hearts that night so long ago. His small framed body was emaciated and sickened and they’d put their needs aside to help an older black man without hesitation, regret or prejudice. They valued people above everything else and he was a benefactor of what it meant to be a part of the Barkley family.

Rounding a bend, Silas’ fond memories were sharply broken into by a man and horse who appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the trail. Pulling up sharply on the reins to stop, he steered the wagon to the right to avoid a collision and the front left wheel snapped when it landed with a lurch off the side of a large embedded rock causing the wagon to tilt to the left.

Placing a hand on the grip of the loaned pistol hidden by his body on the bench seat, Silas took a quick breath to calm his raging heart at the suddenness of the stop. Glancing over at the man who calmly studied him from atop his horse, the stranger nudged his horse closer to the side of the wagon, green eyes narrowing at the right hand hidden on the side of the dark pants.

“If you wanna live old man, you’d better show me your right hand.” ordered Masters his pistol appearing in his hand quick as a hummingbird’s wing, the dark barrel beckoned Silas’ eyes immediately.

Silas knew from the detailed description of Vern Hickson, this was not the man he sought and yet, he instinctively sensed this man was somehow connected to the blond’s violent beginning into the family. The hammer of the pistol clicking as loud as thunder broke the refound stillness of the morning and refocused his attention to the threat before him.

“What’s ya’ want?” protested Silas trying to draw the man’s focus away from his right hand. “I’s ain’t got anything fer ya’. I’s just a….”

The horses sprung forward in their harness at the shot snapping through the air over their heads, the wagon bolted forward throwing Silas forward sending his hands grabbing for the beginning of the wooden box to steady himself and he felt a tug on his vest before he became airborne to land with a solid thud on the ground.

Stunned and gasping for the air viciously thrust from his lungs, Silas found himself looking up into green eyes narrowed and cold, unable to move from the man straddling his chest and pushing the barrel of the colt under his chin forcing the back of his head into the ground.

“You’re gonna answer a few questions, old man.” snarled Masters delighting in the power he exuded over the smaller man. “If I don’t think you’re telling me everything you won’t like my response.”

Silas gathered himself and stared angrily into the green eyes above him, the clenching of his jaw against the threat sent a smile across the tanned face looking down on him. Masters smiled at the righteous determination appearing in the dark eyes and could almost feel the stubbornness shaking the slim body beneath him before he turned the dark head with a powerful backhand. The sound of the landed hit overrode the gasp of surprise leaving the older man at the sudden burst of pain in the side of his face.

“I’m looking for an old acquaintance of mine.” said Masters uncaring of the tears springing into the dark eyes from the blow swelling the thin face of the older man. “His name’s Thomson. You know him?”

“No.” lied Silas, uncaring of what would happen to him, his eyes betraying him to the man above him.

Pulling the older man up onto his feet, Masters struck again sending Silas into the side of the wagon, his body connecting with the hard back wheel. Grabbing a hold of the black shirt, Masters shook the older man bouncing the slim body against the frame of the wagon and snarled into the pained eyes.

“Wrong answer old man.”

Chapter 71

The echo ripped through the air snapping up the head watching the trail and another turning both sets of eyes towards the vicinity of the echo’s origin. Vern Hickson, who was patiently waiting for the wagon from the Barkley ranch at the moment the sound reached his ears stood up and mounted, deducing quickly the shot was the reason the wagon hadn’t reached him yet.

Riding across the trail to reach the undergrowth on the other side, the hired killer skirted his horse under cover til reaching the small curve in the trial. He could hear an angry raised voice from the road and dismounted, tying his reins to a low brush and moving silently forward.

“Listen to me old man. I know you’ve met Thomson cause he’s Barkley’s bastard. His wife and kids are at that ranch.” explained Masters, getting tired of the small black man’s unbending silence, tossing Silas to the side as if he were a ragdoll before standing over the man gasping for air on the ground.

“Why die for the likes of him? He’s nothing but nature’s mistake that needs righting.” snarled Masters kneeling and smiling at the older man flinching at his closeness before pushing his hat up. “I can keep this up all day, old man. Do you think they’ll cry over your corpse when they finally notice you’re gone? You’re wrong there cause they won’t!”

Silas’ shaky hand wiped at the blood which trickled down into his left eye from the cut on his forehead. His lungs were burning from gulping for precious air after each hit of the man’s solid hands and he could hardly see out of his right eye, the swelling of the area taking away his vision but he forced his eyes to meet the cold green ones in a furious glare.

There was so much more at stake than this pinnacle of evilness could fathom and Silas kept his silence, using his mind’s picture of two blond twins when his fear would rise up into his throat and the pain wanted to take over. If he broke and gave this man what he wanted, he knew he’d never be able to look into those two sets of trusting, innocent eyes again.

Letting out a sigh of frustration, Masters grabbed hold of the older man and bodily hauled him to his feet with a snarl, his hands holding onto the once crisp dark shirt now soggy with sweat, dust covered and stained with blood.

“I don’t like people horning in on my contracts, Masters.”

Masters froze at the cold voice coming from beside and behind him, he didn’t need to see the man’s face to know the owner of that voice. Silas saw the green eyes dart to the corners of the man’s sockets, trying to seek out the voice.

“I was just helping this old man with his broken wagon. I wasn’t horning in on anything, Hickson.” replied Masters calmly, his mind jumping from one scenario to another and he watched the one open dark eye of the man he held widen slightly in response to his speaking of Hickson’s name.

“That’s not what it looked like to me, friend.” taunted Vern standing with his arms on his sides. “Looked to me like you’re beating up a helpless old man. What’s the matter Masters, can’t you handle taking on a real man?”

“I was trying to get you information on Thomson.” snapped Masters turning on his heel to face his adversary using Silas as a shield. “If you weren’t taking your sweet old time handling your end of the business, I could be down in Tijuana by now.”

“Why, so you could kick some of those little mexican dogs running around down there? That’s about your size and style, ain’t it?” smirked Hickson, his eyes not losing contact with Masters. “Let the old man go and I might go easy on you for trying to steal my profit.”

“Profit?” repeated Masters loudly. “I don’t think you ever planned to kill Thomson! I think you were just stringing us along.”

“Now friend what are you trying to say?” mocked Vern with a pleasant smile that failed to reach his eyes.

“You know damn well what I’m saying!” retorted Masters angrily. “Thomson’s still your friend otherwise you’d have killed him already.”

Vern lifted his left shoulder into a shrug before moving slowly across the expanse of the trail keeping him apart from the two men. Masters’ eyes narrowed and his forehead deepened in a frown as their partner in crime moved nearer, feeling the urge to step backwards as the other man entered his personal territory, drawing closer with each step taken. Vern saw the confusion in the green eyes of his enemy as he moved closer and he inwardly smiled at the tactic throwing Masters off balance.

Recklessness born from confusion at the change in Hickson’s style infuriated Masters and he realized suddenly he may not live out the rest of the day. He’d never been afraid of any man and yet, he could feel the foreign emotion starting down in the pit of his belly and moving upward. His mind scrambled for an offensive to launch and he made the last ditch effort as he held Silas up with his left hand and moved his right towards his gun.

“When I’m done with Thomson, I’m gonna make his wife and kids suffer.”

An unearthly howl of denial and outrage left the lips of Vern and his hand moved downward while he threw his body to the left. Silas startled as the morning was again broken with gunfire. Masters’ smile of accomplishment on his lips faded into a quizzical look and he stared at the brown haired, brown eyed man making his way to his knees.

Tilting his head slightly, Masters blinked and opened his mouth to speak. The blood trickled from the corner of his mouth before his hand lost its grip on the handle of his gun. Silas pried the loosening left hand from his shirt and pushed, sending the green eyed man down to the ground where he rolled on his back and stared unseeing at the clouds.

Falling to his knees, Silas shuddered and held his elbow to his side, his eyes not leaving the face of the dead man beside him. A gentle hand touched his back and he looked upward into the brown eyes of the man he was on his way to town to seek out.

“You okay, friend?” asked Vern softly, receiving a small nod in response.

“Mr…Hickson…I’s….lookin’….fer…ya.” gasped Silas as the man gently moved his arm aside and prodded his battered ribs with long slim fingers.

“Well, you found me.” said Vern, muttering under his breath at the bruises and swelling covering the older man’s face and body. “Heath send you?”

“Barkley’s….did.” moaned Silas unable to keep the pain from leaving his lips. “Mr….Heath…took…sick….shot.”

“Sick?” repeated the brown eyed man the rise of guilt sending his face into a haunted look, the information of what his plan had done stilling his probing hands. “Is Heath gonna be okay?”

“What do you care!” declared Surrley, standing up from the side of the trail where he’d been hidden, watching the confrontation between the two men under Josiah’s hire after he trailed Hickson. The giant of a man was following the orders of keeping the hired killer his cousin had entrusted in sight with his ability of moving around silently.

“Damn.” hissed Vern at the gun in the large man’s hand.

Chapter 72

With a wink only for Silas’ eyes and some low muttered words, Vern helped the older man shakily to his feet before allowing a flash of anger to shoot across his face. The hired brown haired killer snarled at the giant standing twelve feet away.

“You trying to take my profit away too, Surrley?” asked Vern in a loud demanding voice. “Am I not working fast enough for you either?”

“No!” defended Jeb automatically, momentarily confused by the question and the anger on the face which should have shown fear.

“Well, that’s good cause Masters here…” said Vern pointing to the lifeless body on the ground. “he was trying to cut into my profit.”

“That’s not what it sounded like to me.” countered Jeb not lowering his pistol as he kept the two men covered. “Sounded like you were mighty concerned about Thomson’s health.”

Silas kept himself still, trying to control his pain to keep focus on the two men squaring off, prepared to try to follow Hickson’s plan of fleeing into the trees lining the side of the trail if need be. The brown eyes of the hired killer rolled upward and he shook his head.

“Jeb, how many men have I not killed in a fair fight?” queried Vern with a slight tilt of his head.

“I don’t know.” scowled Jeb suspiciously. “Who cares?”

“I care.” stated Vern emphatically gesturing to himself with his left hand. “I’ll tell you how many…none! I don’t want a reputation as a back shooter cause that’ll get you killed faster than anything. After I take care of the his brothers and daddy, I can’t face Thomson if he’s not well enough to fight me fair and square.”

Growing further irritated with the conversation, Surrley commanded, “Just take your gun out real slow and toss it away. We’re taking a little ride to see Josiah.”

“Well, if that’s what you want to do Jeb….guess we could see your cousin about this….but I gotta tell you I think you’re making a big mistake.” responded Vern hesitating and biting at his bottom lip, his brown eyes shining with worry.

“What mistake are you talkin’ about?” asked Jeb, nervous at the other man’s countenance over the suggestion. “Why’d you say that?”

Gesturing slightly with his right hand, Vern sighed and shook his head negatively, lowering his voice several levels to where it barely carried across the twelve feet expanse.

“He won’t like being bothered with a misunderstanding when you’re supposed to be helping me watch for an opportunity on the old man and his sons. Crown’s liable to think he can’t give you a job to handle, Jeb. He doesn’t like men he has to question and coddle. Well, you know your cousin better than me. How do you think he’ll react if you go back with me at the end of your gun?”

Moving closer a few feet at the voice which lowered significantly in volume, Jeb was unaware he lowered the barrel of the pistol in his haste to hear the explanation.

“RUN!” screamed Vern pulling his gun at the same time he ran away from Silas, placing the target on himself and diverting the unstable man’s attention from the older man he hoped was making his way quickly to the tree line.

The men before him split directions and Jeb Surrley’s face turned red instantaneously with fury, realizing he’d been duped by the man who shouted out the signal. Turning his pistol and moving towards the brown haired man sprinting, he flinched when the bullet intended for his chest grazed his left side. Squeezing the trigger, Jeb’s bullet missed its mark from the sudden pain bursting in his chest.

Vern ran from the area he whispered the older man should seek haven in, his pistol spurting flame and went wide of his target when the giant man moved and ran towards him. Firing again he saw the blood spreading on Jeb’s shirt, a testimony to the projectile striking the larger man who was still coming towards him.

Lifting his pistol and aiming for Surrley’s head, Vern let out a cry of surprise when he stumbled, thrown off balance when a rut in the trail caught his left boot. The third bullet fired at the furious giant sailed harmlessly in the air and he dropped his gun when the power in his right hand disappeared at the bullet entering his shoulder.

Blinded for a moment by the dirt particles flying upwards from his slide on the trail, the hired killer kicked out with his boots when he felt two enormous hands grab onto his shoulders. The satisfaction at landing two kicks to his enemy was dimmed by the unbearable pain as his injured shoulder was firmly squeezed.

“I’m gonna break you in half!” screamed Jeb, his eyes wild and out of control by the short circuiting in his mind at the man’s betrayal. Keeping hold of the quickly paling man’s injured shoulder, his large right hand sunk twice into the thin man’s abdomen.

His brown eyes glazed over with pain and started to roll backwards in their sockets, the grip on his bleeding wound and the rock hard blows to his stomach were threatening to take him away. The realization of who was counting on his help broke through and Vern raised his knee, embedding it hard into the groin area of the other man several times before it found it’s mark and he felt the hold on his shoulder lessen.

Jeb loosened his hold at the excruciating pain in his lower region mixing with the burning in his chest. Lashing out with his right hand, he landed a right jab to the hired killer’s face sending him sprawling backward onto the trail. Limping over he followed his attack with two rib crushing kicks to the downed man’s already brutalized abdomen before the large man felt the explosion in his back, the reports of the pistol fired behind him drowned out in his screams of pain.

Silas cried out in fear when Vern Hickson stumbled and he was felled by a bullet. The smaller man was picked up effortlessly by the larger man and Silas cringed at the sound of the massive fists striking. Gasping and stumbling out of the trees, Silas picked up the pistol from beside the lifeless body of Masters and aimed for the wide back barely nine feet away, pulling the trigger until the hammer fell on an empty cartridge.

The large man screamed with each flame of fire entering his back, the man curled up on the ground forgotten and he turned, taking one half-step towards the houseman of the Barkleys. Silas watched the man turn towards him, the dark eyes widened in disbelief and fear at the man who seemed unstoppable. Rooted in his spot, Silas’ hands shook as they gripped the heavy empty pistol, his eyes stared as the large man struggled to raise the tiny gun in his hand before his leg buckled and he met the California earth.

The groan of pain from Vern Hickson reached Silas and he moved around the large man on the trail, dropping to his knees on the trail, touching the uninjured shoulder to turn the friend of the Barkleys youngest son on his back.

“NO!” hissed Vern, curling further into a ball and fighting against the pain his breaths caused, the unbearable pain in his belly sent a tendril of resignation through him. “Don’t…move…me.”

“Mr. Hickson, ya need a doctor.” said Silas holding onto the man’s shoulder.

“Don’t…matter.” groaned Vern before meeting the worried eyes of the older man. “Mr….”

“I’s Silas Whiting.” introduced Silas in a low voice at the question in the brown eyes.

Letting out a half sob at the pain he couldn’t control, Vern felt the older man’s hand on his shoulder and he welcomed the compassion flowing from the houseman.

“Thanks…Mr….Silas….Whit….” whispered Hickson, his words fading as his eyes closed.

Chapter 73

Pushing himself upward from the bed, Heath nodded to Charlie and held onto the headboard, opening his eyes after the bout of weakness passed. Glancing into the worried black eyes, Heath flashed a small lop-sided grin and squeezed the hand holding onto his arm.

“I’m okay, Charlie.” sighed Heath not wanting his weakness from his injury and recent fever stopping him in his quest.

“Well, I won’t be once your wife catches me.” muttered Charlie, helping the blond into a shirt. "This has to be one of the dumbest things we’ve ever done.”

Snorting slightly, Heath’s trembling fingers worked the buttons of ivory and he grinned, “Speak for yourself, Charlie.”

Smiling despite his certainty of receiving some type of backlash for assisting the blond, Charlie let out a nervous chuckle. “She ain’t the only one you should be worried about either, Heath. I don’t think your father’s gonna be none too happy either.”

“Then perhaps he should have been more open minded earlier and not so thick skulled.” retorted Heath angrily. “I know what I’m talking about when it comes to Crown.”

“I know you do, Heath.” agreed Charlie waiting til the flashing blue eyes met his before adding, “He’s worried about you…his youngest son. He’s acting like a parent would. Your welfare comes first to him.”

The anger deflated slightly at his former peer unit member’s observation and the blond took in a small breath. "I know he means well but just cause I’m giving this….relationship….a chance doesn’t mean I’m gonna let him ride roughshod over my opinion. I’m a grown man, Charlie not a little boy. I won’t be able to let it go if anything happens to him.”

Shrugging, Charlie nodded before kneeling in front of the blond with his boots and smirked, “It ain’t me you gotta convince, Heath.”

“I’ll worry about that later. Right now, all I care about is getting outta this house and finding the sheep they sent into the wolves’ den.” countered the blond stomping his foot into his boot. “Silas Whiting going to town alone is like handing candy to a baby. Only instead of a nice little baby, they’ve handed it to the devil’s spawn.”

Nodding in agreement, Charlie picked up the twin gunbelts from the top of the high dresser and glanced backward to the blond with a frown. “Both of these ain’t gonna feel too good on your waist.”

“Yeah.” agreed Heath walking shakily to the dresser and picking up one of the leather belts. “I’ll just use the right one for now. Alright, let’s go before they come back up here.”

Shaking his head and opening the hallway door, Charlie glanced down both ways wondering how he’d let the man behind him talk his way into this escape attempt. Motioning with his fingers, the two men stepped into the hallway and crept along keeping their ears open for any of the others who inhabited the mansion. Letting out a sigh of relief, the blond peered around the heavy curtain, hearing the faint sounds of voices on the lower level in the parlor before crossing the open landing with the half cherokee on his heels. Both men smiled slightly at reaching the back stairs leading to the kitchen.

“Papa, ya’s outta bed!” screamed Evan in delight flinging his arms around his father’s lower half after he flew out of his chair at the kitchen table where he sat with his uncles, eating a cookie while the men silently drank coffee. “Is ya’ all better, papa?”

Meeting the surprised faces of the other men in the kitchen, Heath looked down and smiled into his son’s face, patting the small back and biting back a cry of frustration at the back door’s closeness. “Papa’s much better, son. Why aren’t you playing with your sister?”

“Uncle Nick and Uncle Jarrod’s gonna teach me to rope!” exclaimed Evan with a wide grin.

“Is that right?” asked Heath in a stilted voice, wondering why he was still feeling uncomfortable with the children’s readiness to use the family titles for the Barkley family.

Overcoming their surprise at seeing their blond brother who was trying to escape the clutches of his family, Nick moved to stand between the opening to freedom and the blond while Jarrod arched an eyebrow in question. Crossing his arms across his chest, the dark haired rancher tilted his head and asked.

“You got a pressing engagement you forgot to mention, little brother?”

The awareness in Vern’s brown eyes faded and their coverings closed, his body going limp and boneless in the dirt of the trail to Stockton.

“No sir ya’ has ta stay awake.” informed Silas loudly, the tintless face of the man lying curled on his side didn’t change and the older man gently shook the shoulder he was holding.

The movement should have caused pain but no sound was heard and the shaking dark hand moved to the feel the pulse point of Hickson’s neck. Letting out a hissed sigh of relief and pain from his own bruised body, Silas hesitated before tapping the cheek swollen immensely from the large fist which had pummeled it. When no change was garnered from his tap, the older man increased the strength of his fingers to a light slap while calling out the man’s name.

Silas felt a small amount of movement beneath his fingers and knew to leave the man in his unconscious state would be the same as signing his death certificate for he could not carry the bigger man to a horse. Vern Hickson needed a doctor to care for his injuries and they needed to let the sheriff know about the attack on the trail.

“Mr. Hickson ya’ ain’t gonna let Mr. Heath down now, is ya?” pleaded Silas, fear rising up and quivering his voice, afraid he wouldn’t be able to get the man the help he needed. “What bout ta babies and Mrs. Thomson? They’s countin’ on ya too.”

Groaning slightly and stirring, the words resonated in his mind and Vern fought the overwhelming desire to turn a deaf ear to the older man who wouldn’t stop shouting in his head. Struggling to open his eyes back up, he bit his lip and gasped before swatting at the hand tapping his cheek.

“I’m…awake...coulda…just…let…me…die…in…piece.” hissed Vern biting back a cry when the older man lent his assistance when he attempted to raise his right side off the ground, his ribs and shoulder screaming out at the movement.

“There be no dyin’ taday fer ya’.” ordered Silas quietly, studying the bullet wound in the right shoulder and nodding to himself at the blood which had clotted and stopped seeping. “We’s get ya’ ta the ranch to get ya’ fixed up.”

Shaking his head and inhaling quickly at the dizziness he felt, Vern grabbed onto the shirt of the older man with a hand til the world stopped twirling. Inhaling very shallow breaths to avoid expanding his battered ribs, the brown haired man met the concerned dark eyes.

“Mr…Whiting…you…have…to…warn…Heath.” said Vern wincing and stopping at the pain in his stomach.

Holding onto the man whose hand was entwined in his shirt with a white knuckled grip, Silas waited til the eyes met his again, the pain in their depths hinting at the damage inside him.

“One…Barkley’s…older…hands…works…with….Crown….inside…man.” moaned Vern finding his sitting position causing more pain and struggled weakly against the older man to lay on his side. “Take…my…horse…tell…him.”

“We’s ride together.” stated Silas pulling on Vern’s left arm. “I’ll help ya’, Mr. Hickson.”

“No…go.” commanded Hickson in a weak snarl, trying to push the older man from his side. “Can’t….broke…inside.”

Not responding anymore to the pleas of the older man, Vern hugged his arms to his body and sought to ride out the mind jarring pain. The slim man’s body shook and he tightened his eyes against the piercing stabs jolting him. Silas raised his eyes to the heavens for the man he could feel fading and prayed silently for a angel to help save this man who saved him. The sound of a horse rounding the bend in the trail reached his ears at the end of his prayer and he fumbled for the pistol which had fallen from Hickson’s hand. Picking up the colt, he held it ready and cried out in disbelief at the familiar carriage he saw.

“Silas! What the devil happened!” exclaimed Howard Merar staring at the three bodies on the trail and the battered old gentleman who took care of the Barkleys, before jumping down from the carriage.

Chapter 74

“You got a pressing engagement you forgot to mention, little brother?”

Staring at the larger dark haired man standing guard over the only exit to freedom, Heath turned his eyes down to his son and suggested. “Evan, why don’t ya’ run along and play?”

“But papa I’s gonna learn ta rope!” protested the tiny blond.

“There’s plenty of daylight to burn yet son.” assured Heath patting the small back. “I need to talk to your….uncles…for a minute. Why don’t ya’ go see if mama packed your gloves and chaps, okay? Cowboy’s gotta have all the right gear. Better still go ask your mama to help you find them, okay?”

Nodding, the small eyes light up and he scampered quickly from the kitchen, charging up the back stairs in search of his mother. Heath watched til his son’s footsteps on the stairs faded before he turned his attention to the two dark haired men in the kitchen.

“Heath, were you going somewhere?” asked Jarrod casually leaning against the counter. “I was under the impression Dr. Merar expected you to be in bed a couple more days.”

Standing by the side of the blond, Charlie glanced over at the other two faces in the room and with a inward sigh took a seat at the table, taking off his hat and running his fingers through his dark hair wincing slightly when he forgetfully touched the gash in his head. Putting his hat on his crossed leg, the half white settled back to witness the clashing of wills.

“I reckon either the doc overestimated the bed rest I’d need or boy howdy, I must be a miracle of modern medicine.” retorted Heath.

“Yeah, very funny.” retorted Nick with a roll of his eyes. “Where were you sneaking off to?”

“I wasn’t sneaking.” muttered the blond irritably. “I was….leaving quietly.”

Jarrod let out a low chuckle and shook his head at his newest brother. The blond’s eyes were hazy with a spot of pain and the paleness of his face under his tanned skin was evident to both men who also recognized a layer of familiar stubbornness in the younger man.

“Heath, perhaps we could be of assistance.” suggested Jarrod with a smile. “Course, if we knew what you were planning we’d know how to help.”

“That’s okay.” denied Heath frowning at the warm tug on his heart at the lawyer’s suggestion. “We got it covered.”

Putting his large hands on his hips, Nick let out a frustrated snort and questioned, “You’re not thinking of going after Crown, are you? Cause if you are, I’m coming along!”

Wiping a shaky hand across his face, the blond shook his head negatively and replied, “I’m not going after Josiah and I’ll be back in a couple hours.”

“A couple of hours?” repeated Tom from the doorway of the dining room, having caught the blond’s last statement. Moving into the kitchen he glanced at his sons and Charlie Whitehorse before walking over in front of the blond. “Son, what are you doing out of bed? Where do you think you’re going?”

Glaring into the demanding brown eyes of his father, Heath tore his gaze away and glanced over to his friend sitting at the table waiting for the outcome of the encounter. “Charlie, can you give us a minute?”

Nodding and putting on his hat, the half cherokee smiled slightly, “Sure, I’ll go talk to Thad.”

“Thanks.” muttered Heath before turning his eyes back to the man before him. “I’m going after Mr. Whiting.”

Surprised and confusion reflected in his brown eyes before the patriarch frowned, “I thought we had discussed this already. Silas was the only one who could go.”

“You discussed and decided.” suggested the blond. “I didn’t agree and I don’t. It’s a mistake to let him go.”

Nick and Jarrod glanced at each other, the impudence in the blond’s voice leaving his words firm and cold. Tom bit back a flash of irritation at his son’s tone before responding calmly.

“Heath, in this family we discuss decisions which affect everyone. All sides of the topic are looked at and then it’s put to a vote. The final decision is based on the majority vote. Silas had a vote also this time because he was the one who agreed to take the risk.”

“Well, that’s mighty democratic of you to let an old man have a vote on his own death. That’s like letting him make his own noose for a hanging.” smirked Heath unable to stop the sneer from his words.

“It’s not like that at all, Heath.” remarked Jarrod watching the crimson flush rise in his father’s face. “Silas wanted to help you and your family.”

“That’s right.” added Nick firmly. “He’d do whatever he had to for this family and that includes you and yours. Just like the rest of us would.”

The blond let out a sigh and squeezed his temples before kneading his forehead to rid himself of the sudden tiredness beginning to overwhelm his body before meeting the eyes of the waiting men.

“This isn’t about what Mr. Whiting would do for me or you. This is about what Crown has been waiting for. A helpless old man heading to town on his own. Not a ranchhand who can use a pistol or rifle to defend himself. Josiah wouldn’t risk a confrontation unless he was sure he could get what he needed without a risk. How many men do you know roughly the age of Mr. Whiting who can win a fist fight or defend himself against two or more people?”

“Heath…” interjected Tom firmly.

“How many?” demanded Heath before answering his question. “I don’t know a single one who could. It was a mistake to send him into town. A mistake I don’t want to live to regret!”

Nick and Jarrod frowned as they felt the doubt rise up from the blond’s argument. Unwittingly their eyes turned to the panes of glass in the back door of the kitchen as if trying to will their old friend to step through the door.

“Easy, son.” soothed Tom catching onto his son whose wobbly legs collapsed, preventing his fall to the floor before helping him to a chair at the table. The dark haired brothers reached the sides of the two men in a matter of seconds.

Holding his head in his hands for a minute, Heath took in some shallow breaths to fight the loss of steadiness. Tom’s hand rested on the broad back of Heath and he motioned to the back door with his head, catching the eyes of his other sons.

“Have Duke and a couple others head to town to find Silas.” commanded Tom quietly feeling the tension lessen slightly in the back under his hand.

“I’ll take care of it.” offered Nick striding across the room and leaving through the back door, hastening his steps at the sense of dread grabbing onto him.

“Father, we’d better get Heath back upstairs.” said Jarrod.

“No, I’ll be okay.” protested the blond not raising his head from his hands. “Just give me a minute.”

Tom’s response died in his throat when Nick thrust his head through the backdoor and exclaimed, “Silas is coming and he’s driving the doc’s rig!”

Jumping up onto his feet, Heath felt two strong pairs of hands grab onto him when the kitchen wobbled and wavered under his feet. His body felt disconnected from the rest of him and he shook his head trying to loosen the cobwebs.

“Jarrod, get your brother upstairs.” ordered Tom receiving a nod from his first born.

“No!” countered Heath as his left arm was put across a pair of broad shoulders and he was forcibly pulled away from the table and to the stairs.

“Heath, if we have to keep picking you off the floor I can’t find out why Silas is coming back with the doc’s surrey instead of our wagon!” snapped Tom before taking hold of his son’s face and suggesting. “Please, son. Let your brother take you upstairs and we’ll tell you what’s happening as soon as we know.”

Nodding slightly, Heath focused on making his legs work, aware the lawyer was hauling him more than he was walking after the backdoor closed loudly and his father was gone from the area. Jarrod hauled his shaky blond brother up the stairs and lowered him onto the bed, the eyes closed against the throbbing pain in his side. Opening the blue shirt, the first born frowned at the newest spot of red on the white bandage.

“Thanks.” whispered Heath.

“I’m your brother Heath you don’t have to thank me.” informed Jarrod, changing the bandage for a new one with efficient hands, looking up into the light colored eyes watching him. “That was a fool stunt you tried to pull, Heath.”

“Sorry.” sighed the blond.

Jarrod tilted his head and arched an eyebrow, his eyes dancing with amusement, “Sorry for trying to sneak out or sorry for getting caught.”

“Getting caught.” admitted Heath with a lop-sided grin before his eyes filled with worry. “If I promise to stay right here, will you go check on Mr. Whiting, Jarrod?”

“I’ll be right back, little brother.” said Jarrod leaving the blond who closed his eyes in exhaustion, intending to rest for a few minutes only.

Chapter 75

Evan’s declaration of his papa’s appearance with Uncle Charlie in the kitchen left a grateful smile on her face from her husband’s seeming willingness to talk to the men who called him brother without prompting. The smile was there until her son mentioned the gun worn by his father as they found his chaps and gloves. Her son innocently asked why his papa needed his gun in the house. Her eyes confirmed her son’s statement at the single belt and holster left heaped on top of the high dresser.

The hidden agenda in her husband’s stubborn rise out of bed revealed itself further when Charlie Whitehorse appeared in the parlor and found his eyes turning sheepish and guilt ridden as soon as Evangeline looked at him intently. The man before her had been in their small family long enough that with one look into her eyes he’d betray his thoughts. For Charlie was unable to lie to the wife of his friend who saved him from an eternal damnation inside a bottle of rotgut whiskey. He held her on a pedestal of respect and admiration. This woman allowed a broken half white, half cherokee into her family and her heart without reservation or regret.

Victoria and Audra took one look at the smoldering in the light blue eyes of the auburn haired woman and discreetly ushered the blond twins outside under the pretense of spending time with the newest foal born into the Barkley equine line.

Thad hid the smile springing to his mouth by wiping a hand over his face and biting his bottom lip to force it down. In the moment his daughter’s eyes met with Charlie’s, he was taken back in the years to a memory of her petite mother and the molten lava in her veins which could erupt in a matter of seconds.

“From the look in your eyes Charlie, I take it your friend is out of bed but not for the reason I had hoped for. Do you want to spill the beans or will I have to drag it out of you?”

Charlie smiled nervously and his dark skinned fingers played with the brim of his hat while his boots shifted on the flooring beneath his feet. Clearing his throat, he glanced sideways towards Thad who raised his hands and shook his head negatively, quietly informing the man with hair as black as the night he was on his own in this foray.

“Evangeline, you know how Heath is about laying around when he’s sick or hurt.” stated Charlie, hoping to use a tactic of evasions and blurry details to sidestep the auburn haired woman.

Looking at the tall man with a look that could wither a rose, Evangeline crossed her arms and the sound of her foot tapping under the skirt of her dress sent a blush of crimson to his cheeks. Dropping his eyes from hers, he shook his head and muttered to himself.

“What was that, Charles?” prodded Evangeline, her use of his full name making him grimace at the fury he heard in her voice. “You’ll have to speak up. I couldn’t quite make that out.”

“I was just saying I know how the twins feel when they done wrong.” answered Charlie in a low hushed voice with a look of uncertainty on his face at how the statement would be accepted.

“Yes, I have four children instead of two sometimes.” agreed Evangeline with a quick nod. “Two little ones who don’t know any better and two big ones who should know better.”

“Yes, ma’am.” replied Charlie and hastily adding, “We do know better even though it may not look like it sometimes.”

Arching an eyebrow, Evangeline shook her head in dismay and sighed, “I know Charlie but you two are going to make me old before my time. Now, where was my wonderful, loving, stubborn, foolheaded, ornery husband thinking he was going?”

“After Mr. Whiting.” informed Charlie with a slumping of shoulders. “He’s worried cause the Barkleys sent him to town alone to search for Hickson.”

“I was worried about that too.” admitted Evangeline softly, her words snapping Charlie’s head upwards in surprise. Letting out a small chuckle, the auburn haired woman waved off the look of credulity in his eyes before her azure eyes gazed over with painful remembrances.

“When Heath and I first married some nights would seem to last an eternity. Not from our love and the upcoming future but from….his past experiences.” offered Evangeline with a sigh of painful dread. “I’m intimately aware of the animal Josiah Crown is, Charlie. It took Heath some time to stop having night terrors about all those unsolved murders. He’s felt responsible for not being able to find the evidence needed to lay it to rest for a long time now.”

“It’s not his fault for what Crown did.” countered Charlie quickly.

“No, it’s not but as you said we know Heath and the man he is.” smiled Evangeline sadly. “He always takes on more guilt than he should. Sometimes Heath can’t separate the actions of others from his feeling of not having done enough. I guess it’s probably cause of how guilty he felt knowing his mama was the town outcast because of him. He’s been like this since he was that child who was forced to watch her struggle against everyone in that town, even her own brother. Leah never letting Mr. Barkley know about Heath has scarred him deep inside.”

Nodding his understanding at her quiet revelation, Charlie frowned and shook his head. “It just ain’t right.”

“No it’s not Charlie.” agreed Evangeline before adding. “But neither is him trying to sneak off when he shouldn’t be riding and you helping him! You two go off without thinking and just reacting. Between the two of you, I don’t know which one I’m angrier with. Heath for being so stubborn or you for just following along! You don’t have to help him when he asks, Charlie. All you have to say is no.”

“Yes, ma’am.” replied Charlie accepting his dressing down from the small woman.

Looking over at her father at his loud exclamation, Evangeline turned behind her to where his eyes were directed. Her hand flew to her mouth and she rushed over to the man being carried across the foyer by Nick and Tom with Howard Merar following, his hand on the back of a battered Silas whose care was handed off to Thad and Charlie.

“VERN!” cried the auburn haired woman, clasping onto the large hand nearest to her and not letting go as they climbed the staircase.

Tom and Nick laid the brown haired man on the bed, his body instinctively curling against the pain deep inside. Howard appeared and gently pulled Evangeline to the side, casting a quick look to the patriarch of the family.

“I’ll need Victoria to help, Tom.” stated Howard as he and Nick removed the shirt of the hired killer revealing the bruise and hardened area. “He’s bleeding inside and we gotta operate right away.”

“No.” moaned Vern, his eyes opening from their squinted position and finding Evangeline. “Heath…see…him.”

“Shhh, Vern.” soothed Evangeline holding her hand against his cheek, his face wavering from the tears in her eyes streaming down her cheeks. “Later Vern. You let the doc take care of you now.”

Reaching up and brushing the tip of his index finger on the stream of tears being cried over him, Vern let out a sigh and his body went limp, his hand falling onto the bed.

“VERN!”

Chapter 76

The warm stillness wrapped around him was broken by a large hand shaking his shoulder and the deep voice calling. Blinking open his eyes from when he’d fallen into the exhausted sleep, Heath looked up in confusion at the frantic hazel eyes staring down at him.

The look in the eyes sent his senses into overdrive and he woke fully within a matter of seconds, demanding harshly, “Are they alright?”

“Who?” asked Nick thrown offguard by the question.

“Ange and the kids!” declared Heath grabbing onto the black shirt of the rancher.

“They’re fine.” assured Nick watching the light eyes fill with immense relief, his heart twisting at the momentary fear he’d unwittingly put in his younger brother’s eyes. “Heath, we need you in one of the guest rooms. I’ll help you.”

The words hadn’t left Nick’s mouth before the large hands were gently lifting the blond from where he’d been sleeping. “What’s going on, Nick?”

“It’s Hickson. He’s hurt.” informed Nick.

“Vern?” replied Heath his surprise stopping all movement within him for a moment. “Is he alright?”

“Doc’s worried.” admitted Nick quietly, keeping his hand on the blond’s arm as he walked him to the door. The revelation of the physician’s concern increased the speed of steps Heath was taking.

Nick directed the anxiety ridden man to the last of the guest rooms and opened the door, stepping aside to allow the blond entry. Heath in one swift glance swept the room and the faces of its occupants, resting on his wife’s when she turned towards him from her task of wiping the pale face lying still on the bed as he approached.

Howard Merar glanced at the blond from where he was listening to the bruised abdomen of his brown haired patient. Holding up a finger to silently ask the blond for a moment, he listened to the damaged section on the slim body before gently feeling the tender area again.

“Heath, you have to talk some sense into Mr. Hickson.” sighed Howard with a shake of his head as he straightened. “He refused to allow me to operate til he talks to you.”

“What happened? What’s wrong with Vern?” asked Heath, his wife’s hand finding his in a tightened grip.

“He has a shoulder wound and several broken ribs. It’s the bleeding inside that is his greatest enemy right now.” stated Howard indicating the deep bruising with a finger.

“Vern’ll be okay won’t he, Dr. Merar?” whispered Heath at the darkened purple bruise covering the left section of his friend’s side.

“He needs an operation and we can’t wait much longer. In fact, we may have waited too long as it is.” explained Howard dryly. “He’s awake off and on, Heath. Get him to agree to the surgery. It could be the only thing which will save his life.”

Nodding as if dazed and disorientated, Heath put his right hand on the bed and slowly lowered himself to the edge of the chair appearing out of nowhere. Leaning slightly forward, the blond closed his eyes for a moment before taking a shallow breath to calm himself and reopened his eyes.

“Vern. Vern!” urged Heath increasing his calling as he saw movement beneath the eye lids. “Com’n, Vern. I’m here like ya’ wanted.”

It was a huge effort on the part of the injured man to open his eyes and it took every bit of reserves that he had to raise his orbs to glance into the worried blue eyes. Opening his mouth, Vern grimaced in pain and reached out, his hand finding the strong one of the blond who didn’t flinch from the pressure squeezing his limb.

“Vern, what’s this nonsense about ya’ not letting doc operate?” scolded Heath keeping his eyes locked onto Vern’s and drowning everyone else in the room out. “You think you’re made out of lead or something?”

“Silas…” whispered Vern weakly, licking his lips against the dryness caused by his lose of moisture. “Okay?”

“He’s fine, Mr. Hickson.” reassured Howard quickly. “A bit banged up but alive because of you.”

“Who was it, Vern?” asked Heath quietly. “Who did this?”

“Jeb.” muttered Vern with a hiss of pain.

“You took on Jeb in a fist fight? Are you stupid, Vern?” queried Heath in incredulous words, the corner of his mouth lifting at the humor which suddenly sprang into the brown eyes of his friend.

“Guess….so.” moaned the hired killer weakly, his strength fast fading and his eyes starting to close before he snapped his lids back into an open position. “Killed…Masters…Jeb. Crown’s…client….old…mill…town….inside…man.”

“Is that where he’s staying, Vern?” prodded Heath and getting a slight positive nod for an answer. “Thanks my friend. I’ll see ya’ after doc fixes you up, okay?”

A shaky smile lifted the pain from the injured man’s face for a moment before he allowed the beckoning pillow of blackness form to his body and take him under. Heath squeezed the slim fingers he was holding onto and wiped at the tears that filled his eyes when he was focused on Vern. Howard looked at the others in the room watching the two friends before asking everyone but Victoria to leave.

It was little over two hours and the parlor was quiet, no words were spoken amongst those waiting for word on the doctor prowess with a scalpel. Heath sat on the divan, his elbow resting on the arm and his cheek cupped in his hand. The man who was going under the knife on the floor above him was occupying all remnants of his thoughts.

Evangeline had left the side of her husband to help Audra occupy the twins and Jarrod along sat in the Barkley kitchen with Fred Maden after the lawman arrived at the ranch after delivering the two bodies he found on the trail to the undertaker. Silas relayed to the sheriff how the two men recovered from the vicinity of the broken down Barkley ranch wagon on the trail to Stockton met their fate. From his seat, Tom studied the blond’s face lost in his memories after neither he or Nick could draw the younger man from the cyclonic thoughts.

Howard Merar inhaled a deep breath and squared his shoulders before descending the stairs of the grand mansion. He was greeted at the bottom of the stairs with questioning eyes and the old family friend stopped in front of the blond.

“I’m sorry, Heath.” said Howard with a sad shake of his head. “He waited too long.”

Chapter 77

“I did what I could but with the damage and loss of blood I’m afraid it isn’t enough to save him.” admitted Howard in a low voice.

Heath felt the shock of the words filter through his body and mind, numbing him to all sensation as he stared into the regret filled brown eyes of the town physician. The blond experienced a moment of denial knowing this man’s skillful hands had saved the life of his father-in-law when all were sure the older man would be meeting his maker. As quick as the denial, his mind forced it to the back recesses to be replaced with the knowledge the physician was only a man, a mere mortal and not godlike.

“How long til…” asked Heath unable to complete the question with his voice cracking slightly.

“Within an hour or two, no more than three.” answered Howard receiving a slow nod from the younger man.

“I’m sorry, Heath.” consoled Tom quietly placing a hand on one of the blond’s broad shoulders. “I know he was a good friend to you.”

The touch and deep voice reminded the blond of the men who stood beside him in the foyer and he glanced at the owner of the hand on his shoulder briefly, the pain in his eyes clear for his father and brothers to see. Shifting his eyes to Thad and Charlie who stood on both sides of a bandaged Silas, the blond gazed briefly into the eyes of the sheriff who stood quietly watching.

“Thanks.” whispered the blond before turning his face to meet the kind eyes of the medicinal man. “Will he wake before it happens?”

“No, he’ll sleep til its time.”

“Thank you, I know you did your best.” stated Heath sincerely. “Thad, I need to tell Ange…she’ll want to see him before he….”

“Com’n, I’ll help you up the stairs.” offered Thad reaching his son-in-law’s side in five strides.

“Heath, talk to Mr. Hickson. He won’t be able to respond but he’ll sense you’re there.” suggested Howard stopping the blond as he moved passed to the bottom step of the grand staircase. “It won’t keep him alive but it may somehow give him comfort knowing he won’t be alone.”

Tom watched as his son paused with his right foot on the bottom step for a moment at their old family friend’s suggestion before he simply nodded without turning and tackled the stairs with his father-in-law climbing with him, ready to steady the weakened man if needed. Howard left the mansion only minutes after the two men reached the landing and disappeared behind the red draped corner.

“I’ll send Evangeline in, Heath.” stated Thad when the younger man stopped in the hallway outside the room. Drawing the blond into his arms, the older man felt the blond’s body shaking with the upheaval inside as the weak fists twisted in the back of his shirt and he whispered, “We all love Vern, Heath. He was a special person to our family.”

Nodding against the shoulder of the older man, Heath took comfort in the presence of the man who’d given him more than he’d ever dreamed in the past years. Drawing in a couple shaky breaths to calm himself, the blond released the material he clasped in his hands and patted the strong back.

“Give me a couple minutes before ya’ send Ange in, okay?” requested Heath.

“Take the time you need, son.” whispered Thad squeezing Heath’s shoulder before moving to the guest room of the twins. Taking another breath, Heath swiped at the moisture in his eyes and slowly opened the door.

Victoria straightened from where she was fixing the sheet covering the mortally wounded man and turned when the door painstakingly opened. Her skirts rustled as she made her way across the room to the blond who stood in the doorway, fixated on his friend in the bed, his emotions unable to stay where he’d tried to force them.

Stopping in front of the blond, she placed her small warm hands on his cheeks and drew his head down, placing a feather light kiss on his forehead. Releasing his face, her tiny hand found his larger one and she held it tightly while leading him to the bedside, directing him to the chair pulled over to the side.

Brushing her fingers through his soft blond hair, Victoria squeezed the hand which was now holding onto hers and used her thumb to discard the single tear escaping out of the corner of his eye. Heath felt numb and the only warmth making its way through was from the touch of the silver haired lady.

The blond was too overwhelmed at the certain upcoming death of his friend to fight against the genuine feelings and desire for attachment the older woman created inside his heart. Bringing the tiny hand he held to his cheek, Heath held it there and welcomed the maternal sense he’d missed.

“Thank you, ma’am.” whispered the blond releasing her hand and letting his eyes express his thankfulness for her. Nodding and placing one last kiss on his cheek, Victoria left the two old friends alone.

Fred pulled out his notebook and moved to the blond’s family standing in the foyer.

“Tom according to Silas, Vern Hickson wanted to make sure Mr. Thomson knew one of your older hands was in with this fellow Crown. An inside man.” informed Fred.

“Who is it?” asked Tom looking into the pained eyes of the small darker man. “Did he say, Silas?”

“He didn’t know ta name of ta man.” replied Silas wearily. “He’d be pow’rful sure though.”

“Mr. Barkley, Vern wouldn’t have said anything if he didn’t know for sure there was an inside man.” added Charlie firmly. “The question is how are we going to find out who it is?”

Nick scowled and wiped a hand across his face. “What do you think Crown’ll do when he hears about his men being killed?”

“Maybe he’ll give up.” suggested Tom in a voice which didn’t reflect any of the hopefulness of his statement.

“If Crown finds out about Surrley and Masters, he’ll go to ground and wait.” surmised Charlie. “He’s got all the time to wait to finish what he started. We don’t. I’m betting we only have two to three days.”

“Two to three days?” repeated Jarrod puzzled by the tall man’s statement. “Before what?”

“Before he gets a taste of an eye for an eye from Heath.” informed the half white. “If we’re lucky, it’ll be three days before he starts out. He’ll figure he owes Vern and the only way to repay it is to bring the man responsible to justice….his way.”

Fred shook his head and scowled as he put away his notes, “Tom, you’d best see what you can do about keeping your son on the ranch so he doesn’t take off on his own personal crusade. I’ll make sure the undertaker doesn’t advertise whose bodies he’s working on after I bring them to him. If Thomson is mad enough, he might not stop to think about what he’s doing and kill Crown on sight. If he does, I’ll have to arrest him for murder.”

“Oh, com’n Fred!” exclaimed Nick harshly. “It would be what this guy Crown deserves!”

“Nick, you have no proof he’s even behind all this.” stated Fred calmly. “All you got is Heath Thomson’s gut feeling he is! We haven’t even seen this guy at all, around town or in the surrounding area.”

“Fred, are you suggesting Heath made this all up?” hissed Tom angrily. “Is that what you’re saying!”

“No.” countered Fred before adding, “I’m just telling you I won’t allow any vigilante justice in my neck of the woods. You got no proof, nothing other than what Silas heard on the trail. With even a little bit of evidence, I could arrest Crown and keep him locked up til a trial date’s set.”

Shaking his head, Charlie snorted, “Vern was our only way to get proof that Crown hired someone to kill the Barkleys here, sheriff. He won’t be able to help anyone now. We’re either gonna have to catch him in the act or if we know who this inside guy is, maybe we can pressure him to roll over on Crown.”

Both brothers nodded at Charlie’s observation before Jarrod added, “Fred, if my brother goes after Crown he won’t be alone and if you have to arrest me, I don’t care. He has to be made to answer for what he’s done to Heath and his family.”

Chapter 78

Heath’s right hand gripped the wooden frame of the window, his eyes looked out into the blackness and his mind lingered back into the memories of his past. A past with the man he called friend, a past where they were first joined by violence. A bloody beginning to their friendship the blond would never forget or never change. Being in the right place at the right time provided him with a friendship few would have welcomed.

The morose, angry teenager he once was saved the life of Vern Hickson when he was facing death from three men who had him in the center of their deadly triangle in a long forgotten town’s saloon. The messenger of death had seen the precarious situation he was in and faced it with a smile of coldness, knowing he was sure to die and yet satisfied in the knowledge he’d take at least two others with him. When the blond teenager had taken an interest in the underdog of the situation, Vern Hickson had felt something he hadn’t in a long time…surprise and gratefulness. After the smoke from their weapons had cleared, the three men lay dead amongst the filth of the saloon floor and they rode from the town side by side.

Heath tried to talk to his friend as he lay still and not listening after Evangeline had whispered her goodbye and kissed Vern’s cheek, her sobs of sadness mixed with anger for the outcome of their friend’s injury shook his wife’s tiny frame. Gathering her in his arms, Heath blinked back his own tears and held onto his wife, trying to give his strength to her. She and Vern had shared a friendship almost as deep as his own with the man many called killer. She loved him more like a brother than a friend and he treated her with the same deepness of emotion.

Evangeline had never balked once in the inclusion of Vern Hickson to their family unit. When the twins were born, his were the third arms to hold the tiny babies after their father and grandfather. His brown eyes had filled with wonder and love immediately for the twins who were no bigger than a child’s doll.

The deadly hands held the small ones as if they were made of china and when he looked up, he wasn’t ashamed to show the tears in his eyes after he was honored with the responsibility of being Evan’s godfather. It was a moment where few people in the world had ever seen the person who lived inside Vern Hickson, the hired killer.

Vern Hickson, uncle and godfather, took his role in the family seriously and relished each moment he could spend with the twins between the demands of his profession. The hands skillful with a weapon of every kind were just as skillful at diapering and dressing the tiny blond twins. When Vern held Evan and Charlie held his goddaughter Heather, it was a sight to behold and smile upon. Two men many would have cast away returned the friendship given to them with a fierceness of two lions protecting their family.

The man he called friend now lay dying because of the love he held in his heart for those he called family. This man readily stepped up to protect those he loved and made the ultimate sacrifice without hesitation.

Knocking softly on the guest room, Nick stood outside waiting for any sound from within. He’d left his father and brother arguing with the sheriff about how to handle the man who was lingering on the edges, his threat of violence and danger, a viable concern to everyone.

The arguments had stopped for a moment when Thad and Evangeline made their way down the staircase with the twins. The eyes of the father and daughter were grief stricken at the upcoming event, the man they called friend many would have shunned at first meeting, his mere name conjuring up fear in most hearts.

Thad handed his daughter and grandchildren off to Charlie and Silas, the two men readily assisting the young woman who was barely hanging on by an emotional tether. The world around all in the room was changing and the youngest members of the family didn’t know why everyone seemed to be in an a state of turmoil and uproar.

They sensed a sadness in their mother, grandfather and Uncle Charlie but would never be able to put what they felt into words. Charlie and Silas escorted Evangeline and the twins into the kitchen, hoping to keep the bubble of innocence around the children from being tainted by the effects of Josiah Crown.

Nick took in a shaky breath and turned the knob of the door, swinging it open and stepping inside. The brown haired man on the bed lay without moving, his face deathly pale and white, his breathing the only sound in the room. The room was kept in a low soft glow from the lamp high on the dresser, casting the barest of light in the room darkened by the night outside the open windows. The shadow of his newest brother broke the rectangle shape of one of the windows and Nick moved further into the room, closing the door behind him.

The room had the feel of death, lingering and waiting to move in when the time was right. The essence of the grim reaper lay like a thick blanket all around as he made his way to the blond whose heart called out to his. It screamed silently in pain and the dark haired man wanted nothing more than to take the pain away, to erase it for eternity. Effortlessly making his way through the darkened room, the rancher stopped just behind the left shoulder of his blond brother who didn’t turn to acknowledge his presence.

Slowly raising his right hand, Nick laid it on the shoulder of his younger brother, squeezing lightly and feeling the tenseness of the body under his palm. Heath’s head moved only a fraction towards him and the minutes passed in silence until a whisper mixed with a question shattered the quiet.

“Nick?”

“Yeah, little brother.”

A forced out sigh left the blond and his head turned back to the pitch black of the outside before he whispered again, “Which of your men is in with Crown?”

“We don’t know, Heath.” admitted Nick in a low voice, the surreal calm of the blond’s voice ticking off an alarm in his head. “We’ll find out though.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“You’re not alone in this Heath. We’re your family and we stand together.” pointed out Nick in a firm whisper waiting for the blond’s reaction and not entirely surprised when he didn’t receive one.

Several minutes passed and the hand on his shoulder was still there. Heath closed his eyes and swallowed the lump in his throat for he knew soon he’d lose someone he kept in his heart again. The stark pain was not quite the same as he’d felt almost nine months before when his mama finally lost her own battle even though he’d been somewhat prepared due to the knowledge of the sickness inside her body. But it was a deep pain of loss and regret mixed with guilt that was taking over.

“I’m sorry, Heath. If we hadn’t sent Silas to town to find Hickson none of this would’ve happened.” admitted Nick in a guilt ridden voice.

“No one can change what’s been done, Nick.” offered Heath with a slight shake of his head. “You did what you thought best at the time.”

“Heath, we’ll get what we need on Crown somehow. He won’t get away with any of this.”

“He already has, Nick.” countered the blond moving away from the larger man, stepping away from his touch. “Vern’s almost gone and no what ifs or should haves will change it.”

“I know, Heath…”

“Just go, Nick.” whispered the blond the shadows hiding his face. “I’d like to be alone with Vern.”

Nick let out a sigh before his shoulders slumped slightly at the calmly whispered dismissal from his brother who was torn up inside. Nodding even though in the darkness outside the low glow of light from across the room the blond wouldn’t see the head movement, Nick turned and walked to the door, stopping with his hand on the knob.

“Let me know if I can do anything, Heath. All you have to do is ask.” offered Nick quietly before he left the room.

Moving from the shadows of the room, Heath made his way to the bedside and knelt with his elbows on the bed and his clasped hands held to his lips. Light blue eyes studied the pale face which appeared ghostly from the edges of the lamp light. Taking in a shaky breath, the blond closed his eyes and bent his head, the quiet words of prayer leaving his trembling lips.

Chapter 79

Shaking his head at the questioning look from his father when he walked in the study, Nick took a stance at the fireplace with his arm resting on the mantle and hazel eyes staring into the dormant pit. Tom felt his stomach clench at the subdued composure of his usually exuberant son and swallowed a lump rising up to choke him.

Thad took in a quiet shaky sigh and tried to turn his thoughts to the eldest son’s deductive reasoning to try to reduce the number of hands who could be cahoots with Josiah Crown. The Barkley ranch housed a number of ranch hands and at harvest time, orchard workers. A number of the suspects could be reduced since Vern Hickson had informed Silas it was an older hand of the Barkleys.

“That’s still too many.” mumbled Thad before straightening from where he’d been leaning on the oak desk. “We can’t possibly keep an eye on all ten of those men to see if anyone meets up with Crown.”

Jarrod pursed his lips and nodded at the list in his hand before handing it to his father, “It’d certainly be helpful if we knew his name or why one of the crew wanted to get back at our family.”

“Hmmm.” murmured Tom studying the list in his hand before speaking over his shoulder to his middle son. “Nick, maybe we should have Duke in here. He may have overheard something or perhaps may have a feeling about one of the men on this list.”

Turning on his heel, Tom called out to his son again, “Nick?”

“Huh?” asked the rancher startled from his deep thoughts about the man lying in bed upstairs and the one who stayed by his side. “What was that, Father?”

Crossing the study to stand by his son, Tom gestured to the list in his hand and studied the hazel eyes. “I thought maybe Duke could give us his two bits about the men on this list. He works with most of them everyday and maybe the bunkhouse rumor mill has picked up something.”

“Oh, sure.” said Nick taking the paper and running his eyes over the names. “I can’t see any of these men involved in something like this. They’ve always been above board. We’ve never had any problems with any of them.”

“I hope they’re not involved either but Vern Hickson seems to have thought otherwise or else he wouldn’t have risked breaking his cover to get this news to Heath.” replied Tom softly watching the hazel orbs fill with pain at the name of his blond son before whispering. “You okay, son?”

Shaking his head slightly, Nick answered, “Heath seemed almost too calm when I was upstairs. I don’t know…it’s got me worried, Father.”

Reaching out and squeezing one of his son’s broad shoulders, Tom suggested, “I’m sure he’s still in shock over Vern, Nick. Maybe it hasn’t fully sunk in yet.”

“Yeah, maybe.” mumbled Nick with a frown before heading to the door. “Now’s as good as time as any to see Duke.”

“I’ll come with you, Nick.” offered Jarrod following his brother out of the study, leaving the two older men alone.

Tom walked over to the drink cart and lifted a crystal container of scotch slightly in offering to Thad, receiving a nod. Pouring two drinks, the pepper haired man handed one to the former banker and settled in one of the high backed chairs, taking a sip before letting out a frustrated breath.

“I’ve always patted myself on the back for being the type of boss who does right by those who work hard for me. In fact, I have done so right by my employees that we have very few people who don’t come back each year to work for us.” frowned Tom, his eyes darkening til the pupils were more black than brown.

Nodding, Thad agreed quietly, “From what I have seen of the ranch and how the men are treated, I agree with them.”

“A lot of damn good it does now.” scowled Tom angrily. “Now one man on a long list is our wolf in sheep’s clothing and if we don’t find him, he’ll help Crown finish what he’s been set on doing.”

“Then I suggest us two old timers better make sure that doesn’t happen, Tom.” stated Thad firmly, staring into the eyes across the table from him. “Our grandchildren will NOT grow up without their father. We cannot allow that to happen!”

Accepting and welcoming the hugs of support from Victoria and Audra, Evangeline thanked both women for taking over the care of the twins before stepping once again into the barely lit room where Vern lay on the bed. The glow from the turned down lamp set high on the dresser cast the barest of light, the edge of it’s reach highlighting the blond hair of her husband’s head as it lay on the bed.

Moving silently through the room, Evangeline lightly brushed her fingertips over his hair while taking in his shadowed face, relaxed in slumber. She was grateful in the midst of her sadness for the sleep he was taking to help alleviate the weakness in his own body.

Walking around the chair Heath was sitting on, the auburn haired woman felt the tears rush again to her eyes and she bent over, brushing her lips across the forehead of the man who one could have mistaken for being asleep if not for the struggles of breaths he was taking.

“We love you, Vern Hickson.” whispered Evangeline, her voice cracking and hoarse from the tightness in her throat. “Thank you for being part of our family.”

Sensing a release in his body from her words, her small hand found her husband’s shoulder and his head sprung up at her touch. Blue eyes immediately found the face of his friend as he pushed himself upwards, reaching out to hold onto the limp hand lying on the bed.

Uncaring of the tears he cried for his friend, Heath squeezed the large slim hand and his left arm pulled Evangeline into his side when their friend’s last breath on this earth was taken. The muffled cries of his wife against his shirt and the loss of a future with the man who’d given back three times more than he received tore into his heart. Lowering the hand to rest against the sheet, Heath held his wife close to his chest, his eyes clenched tight against the overpowering grief and anger bubbling up from deep inside, similar to a dormant volcano.

Chapter 80

Covering Vern with the sheet, Heath gently steered Evangeline out of the room, her body trembling with the realization of the life ended. The door to the twins’ room opened and Victoria sucked in a quick breath, before hurrying over to the young couple. Whispering her condolences with eyes tearing for their pain, the small woman wrapped her arms around the couple before placing a kiss on both their cheeks.

Evangeline tried to protest when her husband requested the older woman to stay with his wife while he told the others. Silencing her words with a strong finger on her soft lips, Heath shook his head and placed a kiss on his wife’s forehead.

“Ange, please, I don’t want you to be alone and I’ll be back up directly after things are…taken care of.” offered Heath, pleading silently with his wife whose shoulders slumped and she nodded.

“I’ll just check on the children.” murmured Evangeline, feeling as if she were surrounded by a haze.

Heath showed his thanks to the older woman with a shaky smile and watched the petite woman wrap her arm around Evangeline’s waist before leading her down the hall. The two women disappeared behind a door and Heath reached up with a large hand to swipe his face. Turning on his heel, he headed for the staircase to the lower level of the mansion.

Nick opened the front door and entered, stopping suddenly at the blond making his way slowly down the grand staircase. Jarrod looked over his brother’s shoulder and sucked in a quick breath at the face of their younger brother as he reached the bottom of the steps. Lightly pushing on the broad back before him, Jarrod fell in step beside Nick as he made his way across the foyer.

“Heath?” asked Nick, his voice hushed and low while his eyes studied the pale face and stormy blue eyes.

Nodding once to the question, Heath turned and walked towards the study where his wife stated her father had been last. The blond felt the two dark haired men behind him and continued on without any words. Thad sensed another set of eyes on him and glanced upward, jumping to his feet and rushing past the Barkley patriarch who stood up from his seat. Placing his hands on his son-in-law’s shoulders, the former banker stared into the face before him, his brown eyes filling with tears.

Pulling the blond into his arms, Thad whispered in Heath’s ear, patting his back and joining in the desolation the night had brought to their family. Heath released a shaky breath and patted the back of his father-in-law before glancing over to his father who walked over to stand a few feet away.

“I need to speak with Thad about arrangements…Father.” stated Heath quietly after releasing the former banker and stepping back.

Tom’s rush of emotion at hearing his youngest son calling him Father again was tempered quickly by the knowledge of his friend’s death. Nodding, the Barkley patriarch met the blue eyes and offered, “We can take care of that for you, Heath. You don’t have to.”

Shaking his head negatively, Heath sighed and shifted his eyes away from the probing brown orbs to glance at the curtains hiding the french doors before replying, “Thanks but I need and want to. Vern was more than just our friend.”

“I know, son.” admitted Tom softly to the profile of his son. “Let us know what we can do to help. Anything at all.”

The blond head barely nodded and Tom hesitated before moving towards his other sons, not wanting to leave Heath in the hour of his grief but instinctively sensed his overtures would be uninvited at this time. Stopping any protest at leaving from Jarrod and Nick with a pointed look, Tom waved them out of the room before him, turning to look one last time before closing the study door.

Squeezing the shoulder closest to him, Thad easily propelled his son-in-law over to sit on the settee. The hint of pain in the eyes of the blond couldn’t be seen through the fogginess of sadness and a tinge of anger. The older man could feel the weakness in the younger and moved to sit in the chair closest to him, waiting for the words he could envision would be forthcoming and the thought left his innards twisting tighter than the hairs of a rope.

Heath laid his head back against the back of the settee, his body reminding him of his weakness even though his mind was running in circles like a dog worrying after his tail. Letting out a sigh and pulling his head forward, the blond pushed his body to lean towards his father-in-law and met the brown eyes.

“I’d appreciate if you’d take Ange and the kids to your sister’s back east for a while after Vern’s burial.” said Heath.

“Heath..”

“I don’t want them around when I kill him. Until Crown’s dead, it won’t be safe.” informed the blond firmly.

The blue eyes reminded Thad of the teenager he’d first known six years ago. The justifiable predatory hardness shook the older man inwardly and he realized no amount of words would dissuade the blond from the road he was about to embark on.

“She won’t go, Heath.” explained Thad simply.

“Yes, she will. Ange knows what Crown is like and what he’s capable of.” replied the blond quietly before standing, grateful for the man beside him in the past and in the future. “Once he finds out Masters and Surrley are dead, he’ll do whatever he can to get to me and as quick as he can cause he won’t have no help. Anyone close by or standing in the way is of little consequence to him.”

“He’s not alone. Vern said there was an inside man on the ranch.” protested Thad. “We don’t know who it is. Your father and brothers have been trying to figure out which of the crew it is. They haven’t had any luck yet.”

“With some smoke and mirrors, I should be able to flush him out and wait til he leads me to Crown.” stated Heath pushing himself shakily to his feet and feeling the effects of the day and night wearing on him. “Vern ain’t gonna have died in vain cause Crown’s not gonna be allowed to succeed. I’ll ask Charlie if he wants to come with me but that bastard’s mine.”

Thad stood beside his son-in-law and nodded before letting out a low sigh, “What about your father and brothers?”

“They tried something and it didn’t work. Now it’s my turn.” scowled Heath. “I want him, Thad and nobody’s gonna stop me.”

Chapter 81

Silas roused at his usual time, the slightly aged man felt every inch of his protesting bruised body. The habits engrained from the time of his birth into slavery were hard to detour from and though a free man for more years than he could remember, the past habits walked by his side each day.

Entering the doorway from his private quarters, the dark eyes couldn’t hide a hint of surprise at the family patriarch who sat nursing a cup of coffee. The glazed pottery container was miniscule and barely seen in the large hands of the man who’d built an empire under the California sun. The peppered eyebrows on the wrinkled forehead hid the eyes brooding into the black liquid.

“Ya okay, Mr. Tom?” asked Silas, his approach unnoticed into the room warmed by the fire started in the large cast iron stove.

“I should be asking you that Silas.” chided Tom, standing and directing the injured man to sit at the table across from him. “You should be resting.”

“Nah, I’s fine.” said Silas with a shake of his head covered in white hair. “I’s got too much ta do.”

Placing a cup of coffee before their old family friend and caretaker, Tom winked as he sat in his oak chair. “Silas, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you had some Barkley stubbornness flowing through your veins.” teased the rancher, brown eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Musta done rubbed off Mr. Tom from ya’ and the young’ns.” responded Silas innocently before taking a sip of the hot dark liquid in his cup.

Chuckling despite the mood he’d woken up in, Tom raised his mug in a salute to the other man, the planes of his face breaking into a smile at this man who was so much more than an employee to him and the others in his family.

“Ya’s up awful early.” pointed out Silas quietly.

Letting out a sigh, Tom nodded and leaned his right elbow on the table, raising his hand to hold his face while his left fingers absently ran lightly over the handle of the coffee mug.

“No sense staying in bed if sleep can’t be found.” replied the rancher dryly.

“Been a bad night fer all.” agreed the older man, looking up with eyes riddled with guilt. “Mr. Hickson done gone ta meet his maker. Mr. Tom, he done died fer me and I’s can’t understand whys tat so.”

Shaking his head in denial, Tom moved his hand from his cheek and reached across the expanse of the table to pat the trembling wrinkled dark hand, “He died because of love, Silas. Love for the only family he knew. It was an ultimate sacrifice of unselfishness.”

“Tain’t right.” complained the free man in a tortured whisper. “Tain’t right fer ‘im ta die fer me.”

“Silas, I think there’s enough guilt being spread around the house.” commanded Tom firmly. “Vern Hickson made a choice and no one knew our decision would come to this. I know if given the opportunity, you’d have done whatever you could to change it but we can’t. I can’t and you can’t. Now all that remains is to deal with the consequences. Life’s full of choices and if we knew every time what the ramifications would be to our choice, many would cower in fear and never take chances. They’d never risk everything.”

The kitchen stilled and both of the older generation sat in silent contemplation of the recent events in a string of living nightmares spiraling their world out of control. Tom brought forth the picture of his blond son when he emerged from the study with his father-in-law the previous night.

The father in him felt a stirring of jealousy at the former banker’s place by his son’s side, a place he should have had since the younger man’s birth but was never given the right. The green eyed emotion took him by surprise for he thought he’d worked through the strong inner turmoil since the time all parties had been staying at the mansion.

He wondered if it was the ever present threat and the realization of the stakes suddenly raised in the deaths of three men or was he simply longing for what he was afraid could potentially be lost.

His own experienced brown eyes had seen the hardened look in the blue orbs of his youngest son. The patriarch sensed a finality of decision within the blond. A decision fueling the anger radiating from the younger man. Tom didn’t need for the decision to be voiced for he knew what it was without being told….it was exactly what he’d do if the situation were reverse.

While he understood the desire for vengeance, the need for justice to be dealt to the man ultimately responsible, Josiah Crown, it didn’t alleviate the ever present fear for what he dreaded in the upcoming future. His understanding magnified a hundred times his desire to protect this son of his who spent his first twenty four years fatherless and on his own.

Tom Barkley would do what he hadn’t been able to do in the past years. Love his blond son and protect all Heath cherished and held close to him. The gifts his son brought to him when he made contact with the man who’d been a shadowy figure since he’d been born.

Looking over at the concerned dark eyes across the table, Tom shook his head and whispered, “I want to hold him close, Silas. Hold him like he’s a little boy and not let go. But he’s not a boy, he’s a man. A man whose gonna go after the one whose tried to destroy him and it scares the hell outta me.”

The next day, the small group gathered by the gravesite ran the memories of the man laid to rest in their minds, reviewing the times spent together before placing them away for safe keeping. Looking up from where he was reading from the bible, Silas slowly closed the worn black covered book and glanced up. The rectangle opening in the ground seemingly widening the expanse between the two groups of people on either side.

Heath sensed the eyes across the grave on his down cast head and ignored the pulling he felt towards them. Light blue eyes stared at the box constructed in short time and he squeezed the hand of his wife, her body trembling from the chill in the air and the emotional torrent inside.

With the first drops of rain hitting the earth, the blond quietly thanked the former slave for his eloquence and escorted his wife from the small grove of trees to the surrey, helping her up before mounting. Watching Thad climb in beside his daughter, Heath looked to the other black carriage nudging his horse into a walk and leading the group back to the ranch site. The blond moved his horse along with a nod to the group of hands who had waited to escort those paying their last respects back to the mansion of the family. The crew not fully understanding of the threat they were protecting their employers from, but fulfilling their responsibility like a well trained unit.

The moisture from the sky hadn’t made its presence known until the first shovel of rich fertile dirt was scooped and placed back in the rectangle, the clumps hitting the simple wooden box signifying the finality of Vern Hickson’s life. Three hours later, the light covering of rain was dwindling as the clouds moved slowly from the valley to allow the remainder of the day to shine through.

“Ange, don’t.” whispered Heath tenderly wiping the tears falling onto his wife’s cheeks with trembling fingers after hearing her muffled sob across the room while she packed the cloth covered satchel.

Reaching up and wiping at the tears his fingers hadn’t cleared, the auburn haired woman nodded and forced a smile to her quivering lips. “I’m sorry, Heath. I don’t like the thought of leaving you behind.”

“I wouldn’t let you and the kids out of my sight if I didn’t think it was so important, Ange.” reassured Heath, pulling her to his chest and crushing her in his arms. “God, I love you too much to keep you here. If anything happened to any of you, I wouldn’t make it.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me or the children. I love you.” said Evangeline softly against his shirt before lifting her head and pulling his lips down to hers, seeking the passion of their love to chase the darkness of the future away.

Chapter 82

The world outside the room was covered in a blackness changing color as more tendrils of light mixed in with the oncoming dawn. The long sleepless night was slowly giving up its hold, relinquishing its dark covering in a cycle of reassuring familiarity. Lying in the guest room, Heath brushed his lips across his wife’s auburn hair and drew her closer into his left side. The small framed woman moved unconsciously in her sleep nearer to her husband, her lips mumbling his name in a breathless sigh.

Blinking back the sudden moisture at the reminder of the painful separation in a few hours, Heath rubbed his face with his right hand trying to stop the emotions in his heart from stealing the sense in his head. Nothing mattered except the safety of his immediate family and yes, even those who called him brother or son, the Barkleys. The blond took in a shaky breath to stuff his emotions into the corner of his heart and set his mind on the direction he’d chosen.

In a few hours, Thad and his wife along with the twins would be safely on their way away from California, away from the reach of Josiah Crown’s act of revenge. The black train would whisk the small group across the Mississippi to Virginia, the long trip a necessity in the war he needed focus to win. Heath knew without a doubt he needed to rid himself of the demon from his life past in order to move on with the future. If he didn’t stalk Josiah, he and his family would forever be looking over their shoulders wondering when the next blow would strike one of them down.

After helping Evangeline pack the small amount of belongings they had brought to Stockton, he’d spent the afternoon with his children trying to ease their fears and replace the stricken look in the small sets of faces with wonder or excitement at the upcoming trip. Young in their years they may be but the twins were born with an innate sensitivity of all around them.

Heath found it difficult to not break down and hold onto them, never to let either go. He fought internally against the love he cherished and kept guarded inside his heart. The parent in him didn’t want to let the two blond headed children out of his eyesight but the avenger ever present inside of him couldn’t bear the thought of his innocent babes being thrust into the cruel world before their time. He didn’t want them to be a wide eyed witness to Crown’s actions.

He wanted his children’s upbringing to be in an environment of safety and happiness not one of loneliness and yearning. He didn’t want to shelter them from experiences, however, he didn’t want experiences to force his children to seek shelter from cruelties. Crown had already taken one person from the future lives of his children. Even though at their young age they didn’t fully understand the difference between living and dying, they sensed a difference, a difference causing sadness in the adults around them.

Yesterday, his father and brothers had seemingly taken the news of his plans too calmly, simply nodding in agreement before offering their assistance. It was almost as if they had known what he’d do before he told them, as if there were no surprises in his actions. Suspicion had flared in his eyes and his narrowed vision searched the three sets of eyes intensely finding nothing other than support and compassion before he left the study and made his way to the second floor to spend time going over the next day’s travels with his father-in-law.

Climbing the stairs Heath’d been surprised when he felt a moment of fleeting disappointment at the response of his brothers and father. Disappointment in their apparent unconcerned acceptance over what he planned to undertake before he turned the disappointment into internal anger at himself. Mentally chastising himself because he was the one who fought against the bond they offered consistently since he returned to Stockton from Carson City all those weeks ago. After everything that had happened to each of them, they still sought to bring him into their fold, give him the recognition of their family and all that came with it. He’d been the resistance at the end of the bond which linked them together.

Shaking his head, Heath stared up at the ceiling and studied the shadow of the wooden beam running the length of the room. Running through his mind, the trail to Stockton and the winding path of the rails over the land to the east where his family would find haven in strangeness. Squeezing the temples of his forehead, the blond ran through his mind the events of the day, planned and unannounced to anyone outside the mansion.

Only the family knew of the trip they’d be taking to town for all had been fearful the judas amongst them would betray the plan to Josiah Crown. They were no closer to finding out who the hand was who stood on the side of the former convict and it was this missing link which could be the death of someone. No one was even sure if the spy on the ranch had told Crown about the burial in the unmarked grave the day before. No one knew the whereabouts of Josiah or if the sinister man knew of the demise of his cousin and right hand man. No one knew and it was the not knowing which pricked the hairs on the back of his neck. Vern had died to bring them the information and yet, they had not been able to force this unknown factor into the light. Feeling the wound on his side, the blue eyes lost focus as the hotel in Stanislaus came forth into his mind.

‘Once you step over that invisible line you can’t go back. I know, Heath. I don’t want you on my side of the line….ever!’

Closing his eyes against the recent past words of Vern ringing in his head, Heath felt a moment of betrayal deep inside him. It was a thought of betraying Vern’s own concerns of where Heath’s anger was capable of sending the blond and destroying all he had found over the years.

Vern Hickson had seen first hand the fine line his new trail companion straddled those many years ago. The then teenager’s inbred fury and quick reflexes were a deadly combination to be up against and he possessed a set of skills many men would gladly pay as top bidder to have on their side.

The fury settled into a dull roar as more time was spent beside the cooler, older and more collected hired gunman. Vern Hickson through patience and mentoring, experience and calm, sensed the gentleness beneath the lobo wolf exterior of the teenager and coaxed the flicker hidden deep within to the top. He’d seen his own younger version in Heath Thomson and strove to keep his new friend from following his darkened steps in life. It was too late for himself but Vern knew it wasn’t too late for the blond teenager who rode beside him and watched his back.

A deep regret filled sigh broke from his lips and shattered the silence of the room. Wiping his face again, he smiled tenderly into the drowsy eyes looking at him after the small hand reached up to stroke his face. Capturing her hand and holding it to his lips, Heath whispered in a husky voice. “Sorry I woke you, Ange.”

“I’m not.” whispered Evangeline, raising upwards to capture her husband’s lips, moving against his body to ignite their passion for the lonely days ahead.

The sun was over the horizon when Heath left his wife napping in the bedroom, softly closing the door to not disturb her sleep. Moving quietly to the door across from their room, the blond turned the knob and peeked towards the bed. Stepping further into the room, his smile faded into puzzlement at the empty bed. Kneeling and whispering the names of his children, Heath searched under the bed before pulling himself upward, wincing slightly at the pull on his wound.

Understanding dawned suddenly at the crowing of the rooster announcing the morning and he left the room, making his way to the kitchen by the backstairs. Descending the steps, the humming of Amazing Grace greeted him before he saw the older man who stood at the stove working on his breakfast preparations.

“Have you seen Heather and Evan?” asked Heath surprised when the blond heads couldn’t be found in the kitchen.

Shaking his head, Silas replied, ”I’s ain’t seen ‘em, Mr. Heath. They’s not in bed?”

“No.” said Heath his eyes quickly becoming worried.

“I’s check upstairs, Mr. Heath. Ya’s check down here.” stated Silas, moving the pot back off the burner and hurried off not waiting for the blond to reply.

Heath rapidly searched the downstairs coming back into the foyer, hearing the panicked voices of the others on the second floor calling for the twins. Throwing open the front door, the light blue eyes frantically searched the ranch yard still rousing from the effects of the night. The sound of the rooster reached him and he turned, heading around the mansion at a run towards the chicken coop.

Nick caught sight of the blue shirt of his brother making his way out the door from his place on the stairs and the rancher bolted down the rest of the staircase, out the door to see the blond run around the corner of the mansion. Not breaking stride, Nick followed towards the hen house where the twins spent many giggled filled hours playing with the fuzzy chicks and feeding the fowl.

“EVAN!” screamed Heath curdling the stomach of the man mere yards behind him.

Chapter 83

“Evan, wake up!” insisted Heather in a loud whisper, shaking the body of her brother roughly with her small hand.

“Stop.” whined Evan opening his eyes and rubbing the sleep away with his knuckles. “Hey, its dark out!”

Shrugging at her brother’s words, Heather scowled, “We’s gotta git dressed!”

“What for?” questioned Evan pushing himself up to sit on the bed.

“If we’s going on the train…” declared the small girl. “We can’t ever feed the babies no more iffen we’s gone.”

“But Mr. Silas might still be asleep.” protested Evan. “He’s hurt and mama said he needs his rest.”

Nodding in agreement, Heather smiled widely, “We can do it fer Mr. Silas.”

“I don’t reckon papa will like us ta be outside without Mr. Silas.” countered Evan seriously with a slow shake of his head. “He’ll get all mad.”

Rolling her eyes, Heather bounced on her knees, blond curls flopping on her head. “Com’n, are ya’ a big baby!”

“Am not!” retorted Evan sticking out his tongue.

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“Ya’s a big baby!” stated Heather jumping off the bed and opening the small bag sitting on the chair. Pulling out a play dress, she looked once more at her brother and pouted, “Plllleeeeaaassssseeee, Evan. When we git back, they’ll be all growed up! We’s gonna be gone forever!”

Letting out a groan of reluctance, Evan scampered across the bed to join his sister whose face was highlighted with excitement and a beautiful smile as she quickly pulled the dress over her head. Pulling on his boots, Evan shook his head and threatened his sister who was shoving her feet into boots matching his.

“Ya’s always gitting us in trouble! Papa mite lick us if he finds out.”

“Papa’s never licked us ‘fore…not ever.” snorted Heather placing a finger to her lips and quietly walking to the door, slowly opening and motioning for her hesitant comrade to join her, glaring with a thunderous look until his feet moved and he stepped into the hallway.

Shutting the door to their room, Heather and Evan looked around with eyes wide from uneasiness when the clicking of the latch sounded like thunder in the quiet hallway. Mentally sighing with relief, Heather pulled on her brother’s shirt stopping short of physically dragging her look alike towards the giant staircase, the runner in the hallway muffling the evidence of their small feet.

“It’s scary.” whispered Evan as they entered the darkened lower level of the eerily quiet mansion.

Moving closer to her brother’s side, Heather looked around with wide eyes at the shadows lurking in the corner of the room, the sound of their boots echoing on the wide thin wooden planks of the foyer. Evan turned and pulled open the oak door easily, unaware the unlocked door was due to his uncle forgetting to bolt the door in place the night before, after discussing with their foreman the next day’s work assignments and trip into Stockton.

Stepping onto the porch steps and shivering slightly at the chill in the morning air, the twins crossed the dirt yard lightened by the sun edging slowly up towards the rim of the horizon and made their way to the large barn. Entering the barn, Heather stopped suddenly and grabbed onto Evan’s hand, her small fingers trembling slightly.

“I’s can’t see.” whispered Heather, her earlier bout of enthusiasm and bravery non-existent in the almost pitch blackness.

Holding onto his sister’s hand, Evan swallowed and glanced at the door opened only a crack behind them. The interior of the barn seemingly wanting to reach out and grab hold of him.

“We’s can open the door some more.” suggested Evan pulling his sister back with him and pushing on the single door, allowing more light to filter in from the outside. Squinting, Evan pulled them forward to the side room where they’d gone many times with Mr. Silas. Taking the small pail from its hook, Heather stood by as the small boy struggled with the lid on the barrel of feed. Panting and groaning, Evan took a deep breath and shook his head.

“It’s stuck. Help me.”

Setting the pail on the wooden floor, it took several tries before the small hands could pry the one side of the lid upwards and push it off to land with a crash on the floor.

“Shhhhh.” chastised Heather loudly.

“Ya’ did it.” retorted Evan angrily at his sister before scooping the pail in the breakfast for the baby chickens.

“Did not.”

“Uh, huh.”

“Hurry up, Evan.” whined the petite girl anxious to leave the ominous barn behind. “The chick’ns are hungry.”

“All done.” stated Evan lifting the pail over the edge and down to the floor before lifting it with both hands. “Git the pan.”

Standing on her toes, Heather reached and stretched her fingers to grab hold of the pan on the back of the shelf, pulling it forward and cringing as it fell onto the floor with a metal clang.

“Oops.” muttered Heather bending to retrieve the round pan.

“Heather!” hissed Evan glancing out the small room into the shadows of the interior of the barn, frightful of who the noises would attract in the quiet morning. Listening carefully, the blond sighed with relief at the normal sounds of horses reaching his ears.

Pulling his sister out the door, the twins were unaware of the man leaving the shadows and crossing over to watch the children struggling with the heavy pail across the yard and to the area of the hen house. Hesitating for a moment, the man warred with the opportunity presented in the way of the two small children’s sudden appearance before moving to his horse. Arthritic painful fingers fumbled with the girth, taking longer than it had ever to saddle his mount. The fingers broken long ago from saving the life of a seven year old Nicholas Barkley were the cause of the pain, the cause of his long sleepless nights and his mind’s escalated version of his employer’s ingratitude over the years. Leading his horse around the corner of the mansion, the wrinkled eyes kept the youngsters in sight as he wrapped the reins around a bush.

Two small hands fumbled with the lock on the gate to the henhouse while his sister watched and held the pan filled with feed. Heather giggled at the sound of the excited peeping coming from inside the enclosure and she leaned down to poke her fingers through an opening, touching the soft downy coat of yellow before her hand spilled the pan of feed at her sudden capture. Evan opened the latch and turned to let his sister through, his eyes widening with fear at the man who held her in one arm, his hand over her mouth.

“Hey!” shouted Evan dodging the gnarled fingers reaching for him and tripping over the pail, unable to stop his fall into one of the fence posts the chicken wire was nailed onto.

Staring down at the still moving boy, Brahma froze for a moment, fear climbing up his spine before the silent screaming under his hand and the kicking boots to his legs woke him from his shock. Realizing he’d be the one strung up if he was caught with the girl, the old crew member hissed a warning in her ear, stilling her frantic fight, the only sign of her obvious distress were the tears falling from eyes staring at her brother. Stopping beside his horse, the whiskered face lowered close to hers and he threatened.

“Scream and I’ll kill your mama and papa, little girl.”

Removing his hand from the face blanched with fear and shock, he put the small girl in the saddle, holding her in place with a firm hand on her arm while he struggled upwards and climbed up behind her. Nudging the horse into a gallop, the pair melded in with the changing light of the morning.

The gate to the hen house was left open, allowing the ground outside the fenced area to be cleaned of the feed dropped from the fallen pan by the miniature birds. Heath noticed nothing save for the figure of his son lying still on his side against the fence of chicken wire. Kneeling beside his boy, Heath wasn’t aware of how his hands shook uncontrollably as he glided them over the tiny stature of his twin youngest by only a mere minute. The father slowly turned his unconscious son onto his back while rambling incoherently to his child.

“Evan, papa’s here…come on son….open your eyes for daddy.” pleaded the blond, swallowing the lump of fear in his throat at the sight of the cut and lump darkening the skin of his son’s temple.

“Here, Heath.” offered Nick after using the capabilities of his voice to beckon the others in the family to the outside area, his voice breaking and strained as he added. “We can use this against Evan’s cut.”

Heath didn’t answer, his hands automatically took the black cloth and tied it around his son’s head. Running his fingertips down the pale face, he called again to his son, moving to pick him up but stopping when his wife appeared, dropping to her knees.

“EVAN!”

Evangeline’s face fell at the sight of her injured child and she gasped in fear, her eyes widely looking around for a moment before her hands grabbed onto her husband’s shirt. Shaking Heath slightly, she cried out between her sobs, demanding and pleading, frightened and despaired.

“Where’s Heather? Where’s my little girl?”

Staring at his wife with shocked eyes, Heath could only shake his head negatively and grab onto the small hands holding his shirt in a death grip, trying to offer reassurance in a voice broken with terror, “I..I don’t know…we’ll find her.”

Chapter 84

Heath sat his horse his eyes not leaving the back of his long haired half white friend who knelt on the ground studying tracks. The half cherokee had picked up the trail of the kidnapper a short ways back from the mansion where no one usually ventured. The blond wasn’t aware of the man by his side or the group of others of the ranch crew committed to finding Heather.

Heath’s thoughts were only on his two children, separated by a force of violence and each one alone without the other. His heart was frozen with anger at the man who’d done this and his hands itched with the urges to wrap them around the neck of Josiah Crown and squeeze til every ounce of life was ripped from him.

Nick and Jarrod glanced at each other, the worry shining out of their eyes with each minute passing drawing them further away from their niece and with each passing stride of the horses drawing them further away from their nephew who was still unconscious when they left the ranch. They’d been hard pressed to convince Thad and Silas to stay behind with the women but they agreed to stay to protect those left behind waiting for the family physician to show.

Nick watched Charlie Whitehorse speak to Heath gesturing to the tracks and pointing to the range of mountains looming on the horizon to the west. The knowledge it was ole Brahma who kidnapped Heather and hurt Evan for Josiah Crown sickened the rancher and infuriated him. The old bronc buster had given them many years of his skills and friendship. The older man had even saved his life when he was a boy only a few years older than Evan. Shaking his head, Nick smiled slightly at the large hand finding his shoulder and his father’s voice.

“It’s not your fault about Brahma, Nick.” stated Tom able to read his son like an open book. “I don’t know why he did it but I’m praying we get the chance to ask him soon.”

“How’s Heath holding up?” queried Nick keeping his little brother in sight.

“He’s not talking to anyone but Charlie.” replied Tom turning his eyes back to the blond sitting at the front of their group. “He’s scaring the hell outta me.”

Brahma slowed his mount to a walk, the small girl in front of him holding onto the saddle horn with two small hands. She hadn’t spoken or made nary a sound except for an occasional sniffle though her tears hadn’t stopped falling. Heather saw nothing around her as the stranger’s horse carried her further from the mansion where her mama and papa were.

The small girl’s eyes could only see the picture of her twin, Evan, lying still on the ground against the wire enclosing the henhouse. Her heart thundered in her tiny body and she shivered again, the material of the play dress only mildly shielding her from the cool morning temperatures slowly increasing as the sun rose higher in the sky.

Turning off into a hidden trail, Brahma’s wrinkled face was permanently marked by a scowl of what he’d done for the taste of retribution he deserved. He was absconding with a small girl and her brother lay hurt behind them. He hadn’t touched the boy but he was just as responsible as if he’d pushed the youngster’s head into the fence post. If he was caught it wouldn’t matter to the law or the boy’s parents or his employers.

He sealed his fate and any hope for living out his days in the community he’d been a part of for the past nearly thirty years when the kid tripped over the pail of seed. The sound of his head bouncing off the post still echoed in his old mind and he felt his stomach lurch in sickness.

Weaving through the trees on the rarely used path, the old man pushed his horse through some short bushes, calling out as he entered a small clearing. Josiah Crown stepped from behind a tree, his clothes dirty and wrinkled from too many nights away from the comforts of a hotel and town. The black eyes in the heavily shadowed face twinkled with surprise before a smile upturned the corners of his lips at the sight of the small child sitting in front of the hunched man.

“You did good, Bramha. Ain’t nothing like a missing child to bring a daddy running.” grinned Josiah his eyes showing the evil in his soul. Reaching up, he gently pulled the girl’s face towards him and his smile faded at the lost look in the unblinking blue eyes which matched her father’s. Her eyes not acknowledging him or anything around her. “What’d you do to her?”

“Nothing!” stuttered the old hand as he dismounted and lifted the girl from the saddle, putting her on a log by the fire. “When I tried to grab the boy, he fell and hit his head against a post. I think she’s in shock or something from seeing it.”

“You fool!” snapped Josiah, grabbing hold of the man’s shirt with one hand and twisting it roughly. “Kidnapping a kid’s bad enough and they’ll look for whoever did it, but when you kill one, they’ll hunt you to the ends of the earth. I said live bait not a dead kid!”

“It weren’t my fault.” defended Brahma. “He tripped over a pail and fell. I didn’t push him or nothing! The kid was slippery as a greased pig.”

Releasing the shirt with a slight shove to the older man, Josiah scowled after glancing over to the tiny girl staring out at the hands entwined in her lap. “If her daddy catches up with you, maybe you can explain it to him while he’s tearing you open with his bare hands and ripping out your heart.”

Brahma felt his knees shake and he shook his head, “You wanted one of them so I brought you one! That was our deal! If you were so scared of Thomson, why’d you want to steal his kid anyway?”

“I’m not scared of Thomson! Nothing’s gonna stop me from paying him back for sending me to prison and for killing my cousin. The problem with this is now you’ve changed how he’ll act!” hissed Crown becoming increasingly furious with the inept man before him.

“He’ll come on like a charging grizzly instead of the worried parent who only wants to get his girl back. He’ll be out for every ounce of blood and he won’t let go once he sinks his fangs. With just taking one of his kids he’d be mad but now cause of the boy…he’ll be a hundred times more deadly.”

“I didn’t hire on to tangle with a crazed grizzly.” snorted Brahma, climbing up onto his horse. “You paid me to deliver and I did my job. I’m heading south into Mexico.”

Nudging his horse into the bushes, Brahma reached back and pulled at the sudden pain in the middle of his shoulder blades, his cries of pain filled the air before he slumped down to land on the ground, driving the blade further into his back and his eyes stared upward, not seeing the man leaning over him and searching his pockets. Taking the bag given to the old man sometime before, Josiah could tell by the feel Brahma hadn’t spent much of his earnings and he shoved it down into his own pocket, smiling at the still face.

“I don’t pay for shabby work, old man.”

Entering the woods and grabbing the reins of the horse who was startled by the smell of blood, Josiah let the animal back to the campsite, tying the reins to a bush before quickly packing his camp. Staring at the lowered head of the girl for several minutes, Crown smiled suddenly at the idea forming in his head. Closing his saddlebags, he carried them to his horse and secured them behind his saddle.

Walking over he knelt in front of Heather, lifting her face and brushing the hair gently back to rest behind a small ear. Smiling, the black hearted man said quietly, “We’re going on a ride little one. We wouldn’t want daddy to catch up too quickly to us cause that’d take all the fun out of it. We need him good and upset before he finds us.”

The small eyes stared outward and Josiah tilted his head slightly to study her before continuing his talk as he lifted her into the saddle and climbed up behind her, “If we went away and he couldn’t find you, I wonder how your papa’d like that?”

Chuckling softly, Josiah nudged the sides of his horse staring the chestnut off in the right direction, southeast towards San Francisco.

Continued…