The Hand of Destiny

Chapters 18-35

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 18

“They’re lookin’ for the whelp.” sneered Matt weaving slightly on his feet beside the woman who held the pistol in her hand, the barrel steady and aimed directly at the two black haired strangers on the floor.

“What do you want him for? That boy bastard ain’t no good.” demanded Martha, her eyes matching the surprised tone of the words leaving her mouth, the lines in her face which once reflected beauty were the consequences of the life she’d lead, the weavings of hatred in her soul.

Jarrod was rigid with anticipation, kneeling on one knee and holding onto Nick, he studied the man and woman, his eyes not leaving them even as Nick stirred slightly in his arms. A slight moan reached his ears and he tightened his hold onto the man born with a double streak of Barkley temper, somehow he knew instinctively these relatives of Heath would never let them leave alive and his mind whirled with the knowledge like water swirling in a tidepool.

“I asked you a question!” screamed Martha, her control slipping slightly, her cold eyes telling the lawyer he needed to keep her calm while he searched for a way out of this mess without further bloodshed.

“He’s training some horses for us.” stated Jarrod calmly. “We wanted to check his progress. We were only asking if that man knew him.”

“You’re lying, mister.” shouted the woman, the lines in her face seeming to deepen as her distrust grew.

“That is the truth.” assured Jarrod smoothly, his face trickling with sweat from the heat of the day and the dark barrel he found his eyes continually straying towards. “Our family owns a ranch in Stockton. Ma’am, I need to take care of my brother. His head needs tending.”

“Who cares. He shouldn’t have laid his hands on me.” snarled Matt, his movement forward stopped by his wife.

“If you hadn’t been drinking yourself senseless, he’d have never been able to lay a hand on you!” retorted Martha sharply, her harshness causing him to stop and clench his fists.

“I only had a couple!” snapped Matt, turning slightly off balance and facing the woman on his left. “What else is there to do here?”

“We’ll discuss it later after we figure out what to do with these two.” frowned Martha, her eyes studying the men closer, they smelled of the money and riches chased after all her life but never captured. “Your clothes ain’t bought off the shelf like most folks, your boots are fine leather…you’re well off, ain’t ya?”

“My sister and mother are excellent seamstresses.” replied Jarrod offhandedly, using the shield of Nick laying across his lap to slowly edge his hand backwards, prepared to make a frantic grab for his gun if need be.

“Martha, just kill ‘em already.” slurred Matt reaching for the gun, making her eyes move away from the brothers, the barrel dropping slightly.

Opening her mouth to cut her partner in marriage to pieces with the slicing tongue which flicked around in the vile mouth, the couple were startled when the pane glass window beside them shattered with a blur of blue. Jarrod hunched over, protecting his unaware brother from the flying slivers of glass and flinching at the sound of gunfire.

Heath spying from outside the window through a small clean opening stepped back and with a running start dove into the glass, his rush carrying him into his uncle. The momentum moved him and his uncle sideways into his aunt, her finger pulling on the trigger impulsively, the bullets flying harmlessly through the lobby.

Knocking his uncle out with a right hook, Heath lunged and rushed his aunt who was bringing the pistol around. Grabbing hold of her wrists with one large hand, he wrenched the gun from her hand, her shoes kicking the shins of his legs. With all his strength he pushed the cursing vile woman back against the counter and stepped back, the gun now aimed at her black heart. Their eyes locked, her breaths coming out in shudders from the hatred encased in her very soul.

Jarrod watched as Heath backed slowly towards him and kept the gun trained on her, not saying a word just motioning with his free hand for Jarrod to pick up Nick. Hauling his semi-conscious brother to his feet, Jarrod pulled his arm across his shoulders and walked him towards the door.

“Get ‘em on his horse.” commanded Heath quietly, his eyes not leaving the couple before him, the bile inside him rising with the wretched memories starting to assault him.

“HEATH?” called Jarrod from the outside of the hotel, his hand holding his brother against him in the saddle, Coco’s reins wrapped around his saddlehorn.

Backing out the door, the blond kept his gun trained on the doorway and whistled, his modoc trotting over to him from behind some buildings further down the street. Climbing into the saddle, he motioned for Jarrod to start and followed him quickly, moving the horses faster down the narrow passage and out of the deadly town.

Jarrod followed the man they’d been seeking, worried about the brother in his arms and the brother whose arms were bleeding from the glass he entered through. Heath continued on for several miles, the woods becoming denser all around them, there was no trail that Jarrod could see.

Finally reaching a small oasis in the forest around them, the blond stopped and ground hitched his reins after dismounting. Reaching up, he was handed the groaning man and laid him carefully on the cushiony grass. Jarrod jumped down and grabbed his canteen before taking a cloth out of his saddlebag and kneeling on the other side of Nick.

Glancing up, he was frightened at the sick look on the blond’s face, his face pale and sweating profusely, red with some streaks of blood from small cuts. “Heath, let me see your arms. Heath?”

“I’ll get some wood to start a fire.” whispered the blond, pushing himself upward. “Ya’ just take care of your brother.”

‘Your brother’ echoed through Jarrod’s stunned mind as he stared at the retreating back before turning his attention to Nick’s wound, cleaning and wrapping it with a cloth before covering him with his bedroll.

“I’ll be right back, Nick.” assured Jarrod in his ear, the words turning the bandaged head slightly. “I need to look after our little brother.”

‘Your brother’ echoed continually and the attorney checked the horses quickly before following the blond’s steps into the wood, wondering what was keeping him, his concern hastening his strides, until his eyes caught sight of the blue shirt amongst the wall of green and brown.

Kneeling and holding onto his stomach, Heath fought for control over the sickness in him, the terror he was feeling, the fear clawing at his insides. He couldn’t prevent the shaking in his body, the past was nipping at his heels.

Jarrod knelt down and grabbed onto the trembling man, his eyes wide with fright and caring. “Heath, let me see your arms. Please, Heath.”

The emotional urgings from the older man reached in and the blond allowed one of his arms to be pulled away from his stomach. He was hovering between reality and shock, shock from blood loss and shock from re-entering the belly of hell.

“Damn!” whispered Jarrod at the long deep gash on the arm of his little brother, the blood staining the blue shirt and tan pants.

Yanking his own shirt out of his pants, the attorney ripped the bottom of it, holding it firmly til the bleeding stopped, wrapping it around the injured limb, noting the shivering man in front of him didn’t even flinch in pain when the knot was tightened to hold it in place. Pulling the other arm away from the slightly hunched over body, Jarrod breathed a sigh of relief when only scratches appeared on the tanned skin.

“Let me help you back to Nick and I’ll start a fire.” suggested Jarrod placing a strong hand on the nearest shoulder, his heart ripping in two at the anguished eyes which looked up at him and the hissed order.

“Go back to Stockton. It’d be best for everyone.”

Chapter 19

“It wouldn’t be best for anyone, Heath. Not us and certainly not you.” countered Jarrod softly, reaching up and holding onto both quivering shoulders, searching the intense glazed eyes of the younger man before stating firmly. “You’re our brother and we’re not going anywhere without you. We have so much to talk about. There are things that need to be said and explained.”

Reaching up, Heath pushed the hands off his shoulders and shook his head in denial before climbing slowly to his feet with Jarrod quickly following. Picking up some wood from the forest floor, the blond sought to control his runaway emotions breaking free in his muddled head, his legs wobbled from the urge to run as he dropped the wood on the ground in the clearing close to the blanketed man.

“West from here…the trail back to Stockton.” stated the blond, his breaths coming in shudders, the punishment on his body catching up with the pain inside and he turned to walk away.

“Heath.” moaned Nick from his place on the ground, his hand reaching up to hold onto his head, hazel eyes squinted against the throbbing. “Wait…Heath.”

The groaned call of his name stopped his legs from working and his body tensed, upright as a fence post. Jarrod watched the two younger men, his two younger brothers, one trying to rise from the ground, the other fighting the urge to turn around at the continual repeating of his name. The pale faces sporting matched clenched jaws, their muscles quivering, both trembling from the onslaught of shock.

Nick pushed himself to his unsteady knees, his eyes staying on the back of the blond, burning a hole through the tan vest, searing the man underneath with its intensity. The intensity born not of cruelty or villainess but of something else, something greater and warmer. It reached across the openness of the small clearing and wrapped itself around his shaking weakened form. It was pulling at him, urging him to stay put, offering so much in its tendrils, promising more than life had ever given him before.

Putting a hand on the ground to steady himself, Nick thrust down the nausea rising from his head wound, his voice low and quiet was pleading for time, asking for time from the brother who’d been driven away from their home by a misunderstanding, part of an overheard conversation.

“Stay…little…brother.” urged Nick between groans, fighting to keep his senses about him, suddenly feeling if the blond left, he’d never again lay eyes on him. “Please.”

Mesmerized, Jarrod startled when the final plea from his rancher brother reached across the clearing and the force of the single word seemed to buckle the knees of the blond, his eyes rolling into the back of his head and he crumpled to the ground, boneless and pliable.

“HEATH!” screamed both men with Jarrod rushing forward and falling to the ground beside the shaking man, his previously injured body doling out its protests while he lay unaware.

Jarrod swore as he suddenly felt the heat searing off the man trembling on the ground, his ears picking up the gasps for air.

“Nick, he’s burning up!” stammered Jarrod glancing at the man who had struggled over to them. “I didn’t notice before, dammit! How could I miss it?”

Running his hand over the drenched blond hair, Nick closed his eyes against the pain in his head and whispered, “Not..your..fault.”

“Stay with him, we need more water.” whispered Jarrod, jumping up and grabbing the canteens, running to the nearby stream they’d crossed.

Nick lay his head on his arm, the gash on his head stealing his strength and his hand shook as he gently wiped the trickles of blood from the face of the blond, the red moistened from the perspiration of the fever, the cheeks scarlet and flushed, standing out harshly against the whiteness of its background.

Closing his eyes against the onslaught in his head, Nick opened his eyelids slightly at the mumbling from his feverish brother, the blond head moving slightly, a single tear escaped from the corner of the closed eye of the rambling man after the anguished half sob, half cry.

“Rachel.”

Chapter 20

Forcing himself up onto his elbow, Nick took the bandanna from his neck and wiped the fevered brow of the mumbling blond, his hand unsteady from his own injury. Laying his palm against the hot cheek, the pained rancher watched the eyelids open slightly, revealing two spots of blue.

“Heath.” smiled Nick in relief, his happiness at seeing the two spots of blue overriding the physical pain of his own body.

Coughing and gasping at the pain in his chest, the blond rolled on his side away from the concerned hazel eyes and pushed himself up to his knees. Shaking and trembling, the blue orbs looked around frantically, “Jarrod? Jarrod!”

“He..went..water.” groaned Nick, unable to keep his head up, moving his head back onto his arm, opening his eyes at the hot hands which held onto his shoulders and moved him onto his back.

Shaking his head against the fogginess, Heath grabbed onto the strong shoulders, moving the dark haired man onto his back, the appreciation in the hazel eyes shining through the pain. The blond inwardly cursed his own body which allowed an infection to live inside it, his eyes filled with anger at himself and his own inabilities which were rapidly taking hold because of his fevered state.

Nick saw the anger in the blue glassy eyes before he lost the fight to keep his eyes open unaware he’d grabbed onto the injured forearm of his younger brother when pain shot through his head. Heath moaned from the sudden pain in his arm and pried the strong hand away, holding onto it and shuddering.

Jarrod walked into the clearing, thankful for the blue eyes watching him and he slowed his steps at seeing the gun in the feverish man’s hand, while the other held onto Nick’s hand. Remembering the unexpected action of the blond when he’d awaken in the guest room of the mansion, the attorney took a silent deep breath and cautiously approached.

“Heath?” said Jarrod calmly, letting out his breath at the reply.

“It’s not safe.” whispered Heath, his eyes continually scanning the trees, squinting against the rise of temperature in him and the sweat which rolled down his forehead, stinging his eyes.

Kneeling beside his brothers, Jarrod pointed to the pistol in the trembling hand. “I’m here now. You can put that away.”

Staring at the weapon in his hand, Heath slowly nodded and after a few attempts, holstered the colt in its leather encasement. Jarrod poured some water on the black bandanna of Nick’s and held it to the back of Heath’s scalding neck, the blond sighing from the contrast of heat and coolness.

“Heath, how long have you been sick?” asked Jarrod, studying the dark circles under the closed eyes, the telltale signs of no sleep.

“Two days?” queried Heath, slowly opening his eyes and staring off into the distance. “The rain was so cold but I had to do it. I promised. Never go back on my word.”

Jarrod swiped the wet cloth across the pale face and puzzled over the continued mumbling, startled from his thoughts by a moment of clarity and the hand which gripped onto his.

“My ranch’s that way. Ten miles.” gestured Heath, staring into the blue eyes of the older man. “We have to leave.”

“You and Nick can’t ride.” stated Jarrod firmly. “I’ll watch over and take care of you two.”

“You can’t!” snapped the blond, his fear sending his anger forward, his words stammering with fear. “They’re evil. They got no soul.”

Jarrod held onto the increasingly agitated blond’s shoulders, using the strength of his uninjured body to hold him in place, his eyes locking with the ones now widened with fear and panicked, the weak man fighting to free himself from the hold of iron.

“Heath, stop it! Listen to me! They’re not here! HEATH!”

Nick forced his eyes open at the shouts which pushed through the haze he was surrounded with, the fear in one voice, the other firm and serious. Jarrod struggled with the smaller man who pushed him away when a shot of adrenaline surged through the fevered blond. Jumping up, Jarrod toppled the fleeing man onto the ground, Heath’s breath whooshing out of his lungs with the impact, his groan of pain loud in the afternoon air.

Jarrod wrapped his arms around the blond pulling him back into his chest, the mumbled ranting of fear twisting his stomach and he met the hazel eyes which stared at them from where Nick lay.

“Please, Heath. Settle down.” urged Jarrod loudly in the blond’s ear, the heat of the fever confusing the man in his arms, his memories mixing together, become disjointed parts and his movements slowed at the voice in his ear.

“I want to leave.” whispered Heath, his voice low and quivering, his body too exhausted to struggle, his eyes were starting to close and he repeated several times. “It’s a bad place, full of death. Always death. I don’t like it there. Please. I want to leave. Please.”

Nick felt his eyes tear up from the fright in his brother’s voice and he knew the relatives in his hometown were responsible for that fear, for the panic in the blue eyes. Looking up with sluggish hazel eyes, Nick met his older brother’s gaze and held it with his own, his answer clear for Jarrod to see.

Putting his mouth close to the blond’s ear, Jarrod stated firmly, “Can you lead us to your ranch, Heath?”

Chapter 21

The sun was setting, the forest around them growing darker, the shadows lengthening and stifling the light. Jarrod kept the man on the modoc in sight, his arms holding onto Nick who had to be transferred from the back of Coco when he couldn’t remain conscious and in the leather seat on his own.

“Jarrod?” moaned Nick, the movement of the horse steadily increased the throbbing in his head.

“Yeah, Nick?” whispered the older man, his attention on the back of the blond struggling to stay in the saddle, his swaying body held in place by a deathgrip on the saddlehorn.

“He’s…struggling.” whispered Nick, his half-opened eyes watching the tan vest in the fading light. “How…far…there?”

“I don’t know Nick. I think we’re close though.” said Jarrod calmly. “We’re almost to the mountains. Remember, Heath said his home was at the base of a mountain.”

“He…did.” admitted Nick, his words barely heard as his eye closed and Jarrod held his brother firmer at the feel of his again relaxed body.

Taking a deep breath, Jarrod let it out fighting the urge to tell Heath to stop, his concern for both men growing with each passing yard, each tree ridden around, each stream crossed. He focused his mind on what he’d need to do once they reached their destination.

Going over the care both his younger brothers would require in his mind, the attorney was again thankful, Nick appeared to only be concussed and not too seriously damaged. With rest, his injury would heal quickly and with liquids, his body would replace the blood it lost. Once the man in his arms was allowed a place to rest uninterrupted, he would be back to his old growling self in no time.

His blond brother was another story, one for great concern and Jarrod frowned. The fevered mumbling of the man they barely knew were mostly unrecognizable but a shiver had crawled up his spine after he’d ridden up beside Heath who stopped and the confused blue eyes requested his orders and called him Major Binginton.

The title of the well-known military officer and the implications of the one sentence had shocked the attorney into silence until he realized the blond was growing more nervous and agitated waiting for him to speak. Talking quietly, he tried to get Heath to recognize he was Jarrod, his brother and not a military officer. The blond sat his horse waiting like a good soldier and when Nick suddenly moaned, his eyes blinked bringing him back to the forest of California instead of the hills in Tennessee.

The look in the blue eyes when he realized what must have happened twisted Jarrod’s heart. The shamed look turned to agony before he nudged the modoc forward, holding his injured left arm against his still paining ribs.

Other than treating his fever and cuts, Jarrod wasn’t sure what to do to help the inner man. What could he do to stop those looks from wiping the happiness forever out of the blue orbs? What the hell was he doing in a war as a mere child?

The voice of the young man riding ahead of him probably hadn’t even had a chance to change before he was fighting for his life on the bloody battlefields, amongst the cannon fire, stepping over the dead bodies of friends and neighbors, unit peers and the enemy who looked like the kid next door.

He’d entered the war as a man just turned eighteen and Jarrod shook his head. He felt sick to his stomach, imaging a boy of thirteen or fourteen pulling the trigger on a gun, eyes wide with innocence no more.

Heath held onto the saddlehorn, the reins looped around it, allowing Gal to walk the trail to the ranch, the trail he was finding excruciatingly long. He’d long since given up trying to stay upright in the saddle, the fever holding onto him and the pain in his ribs and arm making it difficult to focus, difficult to keep a sharp eye out.

The blond tried to get his mind to think about the consequences of what he’d done in Strawberry, the taking of the Barkleys from his relatives would widen the bullseye on his back. Their hatred for him would give way to revenge for his interference and he swallowed the fear rising up. The fear deep inside him from the time of a child, the fear he couldn’t stop.

He was positive his relatives didn’t know where he lived, otherwise, he reasoned they’d have made sure he knew of their presence long before. The controlling need of the couple, the meanness in both of them was a trait they’d probably been born with. They were a matched set in their lack of conscience. They had none and would do whatever it took to get what they wanted in life. To kill and rob innocent people were not above them and in fact, their last blood relative was sure it was how they made a living, how they eked out an existence in the town barren of life.

The town barren of life.

For him, the blond knew he’d never step foot in the place again. He’d spent one and a half days trying to keep his Rachel alive and with him, even though, they both knew it was hopeless, a futile attempt to stop the inevitable. There was no cure for the heart ailment which slowly took her away.

When she passed after placing a goodnight kiss on his cheek, he’d welcomed the sense of hopelessness, the sense of despair which tore him apart. If his uncle or aunt had chosen to look in on Rachel for the first time ever, he knew he would have provoked them into a fight, just to end the shattering of his soul inside. Not that there would be a need for a lot of provocation, just his being there would be the start of the fuse.

As it was, the couple never made an appearance and in the rainy early morning hours, with his each breath burning his lungs, the promise was kept and he buried his Rachel beside his mama and his Hannah. Three fine wonderful ladies, three ladies full of smiles and love could now spend the hereafter together.

Returning to the cabin, he put the possessions she’d left him in his saddlebags and waited for the rain to quit, his damp clothes on his back, chilling him to the bone, making his already fevered body ache more but he dared not light a fire for warmth. He dozed off and when he woke later, the rain had stopped and he walked Gal to the edge of the street, stopping and making sure he would not be seen on his way out of the god forsaken place. All thoughts of leaving flew out of his mind and he grabbed onto the corner of the building, his eyes wide and his legs suddenly weak with fear.

The sight of the two horses in front of the hotel and the instantaneous knowledge of who owned the one closest to him, left him trembling for the safety of the riders. Keeping Gal in the alley, he worked his way around the buildings to the other side of the horses, his heart jumping into his throat at the sight of the other animal, both bearing the brand of the Barkley ranch. The brand confirming what his proficient eyes already knew.

It wasn’t a decision he made consciously, it was a decision which he made as quick as one would blink an eye. He wouldn’t leave his worse enemy in the hands of his relatives. To leave two men who were also sons of his father to their fate once they stepped foot in the den of death was a thought which was inconceivable.

Topping the small hill, Heath stopped Gal, waiting for Jarrod to pull up alongside him and he motioned in the dusk of the day to the buildings barely discernible in the valley, the mountain towering in the backgrounds made everything around seem small and minute.

“Jarrod, wait til I signal.” commanded the shivering blond firmly, nudging Gal down the hill and out of sight in the fading light.

“Heath!” called Jarrod quietly unable to see the brother who disappeared into the inking of the trees around them. Sighing, he reached up and cupped the cheek of the unaware brother in his arms, “Dammit, he's worse than you in stubbornness!"

Chapter 22

Jarrod wasn’t sure how much time passed since his brother disappeared into the darkness and he kept his eyes forward watching for a signal, sighing when he realized he didn’t know what signal to look for.

The sky was moonless, the clouds had slowly built up during the late afternoon ride and now covered the area above his head fully. The dark was waking up with the sounds of the night symphony, crickets chirping, small animals scurrying, an owl hooting and off in the distance a wolf howling a cry of sorrow, a cry of loneliness.

Nick muttered before moving his head slightly against his big brother’s shoulder, unaware of the arm stiff from holding the large man tightly in the saddle, unaware of the rising fear in the usually collected lawyer brother. The fear of not knowing if the blond reached his ranch, fell off his horse or met with any number of reasons for delay, for not returning.

The thought of his newest brother, unconscious and needing his help was overwhelming and Jarrod nudged Jingo forward at the precise moment a glow of a lantern could be seen. The relief left him letting out two shaky breaths and he waited, watching the light come closer until he saw it held by a trembling hand of his little brother.

“This way.” said Heath, the lantern highlighting his feverish face even more so. “Follow right behind me, Jarrod. Don’t stray at all.”

Unsure but trusting to the man in front of him, Jarrod followed close behind the modoc, the attorney feeling the hairs on his neck stand up from the tenseness of his mount, his eyes unable to see the cause of the sudden tension.

The outline of a building took shape as they neared and Heath stopped in front of a small cabin, leaning over and hanging the lantern from the peg on the post of the porch. Climbing down slowly, Jarrod watched as the hands gripped the saddle and the blond shook his head to clear it of cobwebs before walking around and holding up his hands to take the unconscious man from atop the horse.

“Heath, if you hold Nick in place while I climb down, we can both carry him inside.” suggested Jarrod. “He’s heavier than an elephant.”

The corner of the blond’s mouth lifted slightly and he nodded, his hand reaching up and grabbing firm hold of the arm closest to him, the other a fistful of black shirt. Dismounting and stumbling on protesting legs, Jarrod reached up and between the two of them, Nick was slowly pulled from the saddle, his body relaxed and heavy.

Each men put an arm over their shoulders and Jarrod used a hand on the black leather belt to support the majority of the weight, not wanting to make the other injured man struggle. Reaching the door, Heath opened it and together Nick was dragged into a back bedroom and deposited on the bed. The blond was breathing heavily from his weakened condition, fully aware even in his feverish state of Jarrod hauling most of the weight.

Jarrod pulled off the dark boots and put the long legs on the bed, looking up and watching the blond open a door of a cabinet, pulling out more blankets. Handing a blanket to the lawyer, Heath walked out of the room, placing the others on the kitchen table. Unfolding the blanket, Jarrod covered his brother and checked the wound on his head.

“Here.” said Heath carrying a basin sitting it down before handing over a new bandage and a cloth. “Ya’ should clean it better.”

Jarrod took the items and placed them on the bedside table, his hand stopping the blond who turned to leave. “Heath, you’d best sit down. I need to look at your arm and ribs.”

“Later.” The blond’s jaw clenching as he fought the collapse he felt coming, taking the hand off his arm and walking slowly to the door. “Take care of Nick.”

“Heath!” protested Jarrod stopping at the moan from the bed, looking back at Nick for a moment, then glancing at the door which was closing. Shaking his head, Jarrod sat on the side of the bed, his hands unwrapping the bandage, his fingers working with the cloth, tenderly cleaning the large gash before rewrapping it with a new cloth of white. Satisfied at the feel of coolness beneath his palm, Jarrod pulled the blanket up and whispered in Nick’s ear. “Be right back, little brother.”

Heading into the outer room, Jarrod took a moment to start a fire in the small stove and putting water in the coffee pot from the indoor pump, set the tin pot on the fire. Opening the door, the blue eyes looked into the murky darkness, the glow of the lantern signifying where the blond had disappeared to.

Crossing the dirt area, Jarrod entered the barn, his eyes adjusting to the dim light and he hurried to the stall where Heath was struggling with a saddle, taking it from the shaky man’s hand and setting it on the rail. Bending, Jarrod quickly placed the other two saddles on the rail and turned to the man who was leaning against a nearby post, his eyes closed.

“Com’n little brother.” soothed Jarrod, pulling Heath’s uninjured arm over his shoulders.

“Rifle.” whispered Heath, leaning heavily against the older man, struggling to keep his mind coherent. “Need it.”

Nodding, Jarrod walked the scalding man to the rifle which leaned against the wall. Heath grabbed it in his left hand, grimacing at the pain shooting up his arm while Jarrod reached out and turned the lantern flame down.

“You’re going to bed, Heath.” stated Jarrod firmly, half carrying the weak blond to the cabin and pulling him inside. “You got another bed?”

“No. Only one.” informed the blond swaying against the worried man holding him up, muttering under his raspy breaths. “Not expectin’ company.”

Jarrod lowered the blond onto the rug in front of the fireplace, coughing and groaning from the pained ribs, the blond lay carefully on his side, his head cushioned on his arm, curled up and trembling with his eyes closed, letting himself fall into a disturbed sleep. Looking around the room, Jarrod opened the other door and held a candle up in the darkness, the storage room containing canned goods and crates, his eyes spying a mound of fur and he picked it up.

Taking the large and heavy coat made of buffalo out to the outer room, he spread it on the floor, putting a blanket over it and crossed to the bed, gingerly pulling Nick up, the movement stirring his brother into waking.

“Jarrod?” groaned Nick, trying to open his eyes.

“Yeah, it’s me.” whispered Jarrod. “Nick, I’m made you a bed on the floor.”

Forcing his eyes to open, the hazel orbs ached as they moved to survey the room they were in, stopping at the shaking man on the floor. Holding onto Jarrod, the rancher was lead over to the corner and lowered onto the makeshift bed, his hand grabbing hold of the white shirt of his brother.

“Heath?” whispered Nick, his eyes closing against his wishes.

“He’s got a good fever going, Nick.” sighed Jarrod covering the rancher up before standing and bringing the canteen over, lifting up the injured head carefully and nodding his approval at the water taken in. “I’ll make you some broth after I get Heath settled.”

“Not..hungry…tired.”

“I know but you need fluids in you, Nick. Just rest for now.” ordered Jarrod firmly, cupping the pale cheek before moving to where the blond was laying. Picking up the trembling man, Jarrod carefully laid him on the bed, taking off his boots and placing a blanket over him.

Entering the kitchen, he searched the cabinets and found the medical supplies, his eyes widening with surprise at the herbs in carefully labeled containers. Taking out the willowbark, he brewed some in a pot, letting it cool in a cup and mixing in some aspirin powder before carrying it over to the bed along with some bandages.

“Heath?” called Jarrod quietly, tapping the sweaty cheek several times before he received a response by way of slightly opening eyes and the blond struggling to rise.

“No, stay down.” was the order emphasized with a hand on the blond’s chest. Holding the cup to Heath’s mouth, Jarrod coaxed the feverish man who turned his head away, unsure of what was happening.

“It’ll help with the fever. Com’n Heath, you gotta drink it.” urged Jarrod, putting the cup to the side and holding onto the shoulders of the smaller man when he tried to rise again. “Don’t move, Heath. You need to stay in bed.”

“Jarrod?” whispered Heath, his head moving on the pillow, the sweat glistening off his skin, his hand reaching out, captured by and held onto.

“I’m here, little brother.” acknowledged Jarrod, holding the wet hand with his and wiping the sweat laden brow. “You need to drink this tea.”

“Careful, Jarrod.” mumbled the blond weakly squeezing the other’s hand. “Kill us all.”

“I’ll keep watch, Heath.” assured Jarrod releasing the hand and holding the cup to his lips again. “Drink this for me. I can’t keep watch if you’re running a fever, Heath.”

Nodding slightly, the blond choked down the cool tea, the foul taste not foreign to the youngster whose body been weakened from the time he’d lost his mama. The mines, the foul treatment of his relatives, the war all taking their share of his physical body.

“Good, Heath.” smiled Jarrod into the blue glassy eyes peeking out from under their hoods, running a cloth over the blond’s face. “Rest now. I’ll take good care of you and Nick. I promise.”

The eyes of the blond closed and he wondered briefly at the safe feeling the man beside him created in him, the worries in his muddled mind seeming to dissipate with the promise given and Heath let the murky waters take him under.

Chapter 23

It’s been said the home of a person should be a haven, a port away from a storm, a beacon on a dreary night. A home and its furnishings reveals much about the inner person, much about the soul of the person.

Watching with eyes full of gentleness as his fevered brother drifted off again, Jarrod rubbed his hands over his face and rested his chin on his entwined fingers. The night had long since left, the sun was brightly shining outside removing the last of the signs of the storm which drenched the night with rain, shook the cabin with thunder and electrified the air with bolts of lightning.

Throughout the night, the first son watched the third son fighting against inner storms, the waves crashing inside of him, the winds throwing around his memories, his thoughts. The fever powered storm eroding the hold his subconscious mind had on his memories, freeing them for another to see, another to witness the frightening scenes of a past filled with more pain than a person should have to experience in a lifetime.

The oldest of the men didn’t hesitate in his care, he didn’t stop to think of himself, of his own exhausted body, his own need for replenishment of sleep. Until they rode this wave all the way into the shore, for Jarrod Barkley, a man bound by brotherhood to the two prone on their backs, there would be no rest and no putting down of oars. If it required all of his strength to get his brothers to a beach of sand, sun and peace…then so be it.

He would give of himself til he had no more to give and then he’d dig deeper into his reserves, repeating the process until he had nothing left.

Exchanging the warm cloths for cool wet ones, Jarrod glanced towards the bed in the corner, smiling at the hazel eyes open and watching. Nick smiled slightly, grimacing at the pain still thundering in his head but not nearly as bad as the last time he’d been awake. The rancher felt as if he’d been asleep for days, his mind was clearer and his eyes didn’t hurt when he rolled them in their sockets. Jarrod placed a cloth over the perspiration dotted forehead and walked over to kneel beside Nick.

“Morning, brother Nick.” smiled Jarrod, leaning over to check the bandage.

“It’s okay, Jarrod.” growled Nick quietly pushing himself up onto his elbow, looking over at the blond head moving on the bed. “Has his fever gone down?”

Sitting back on his heels, Jarrod sighed, “Some but he’s still too warm. The tea is helping.”

“Tea?” repeated Nick with a grimace of displeasure. “What kind of tea?”

“Oh, are you talking to me now?” asked Jarrod, eyes wide with innocence. “We’re going to have a conversation?”

Turning red from the question, Nick scowled, “Don’t even start with me, Jarrod. I probably owe you an apology, well maybe I do, but you sure ain’t getting one now.”

Arching his right eyebrow, Jarrod glared at his pale brother for a minute, the rancher starting to squirm under the scrutiny before the attorney smiled and let him off the hook. “We’ll talk about it later. Think you can eat?”

“I don’t suppose Heath has any steaks in his icebox?” mumbled Nick, his mouth watering with the thought of sustenance.

“Fraid not. I can make you up some beans.” suggested Jarrod helping the shaky man to his feet.

“BEANS!” retorted Nick, wincing when his brashness echoed in his head, leaning heavily on Jarrod when his legs wobbled on the way to the table.

“Nick, not so loud.” scolded Jarrod setting him in a chair. “This ain’t the big house, the echo of your voice could bring down the rafters here.”

“Sorry.” whispered Nick, glancing towards the bed and relieved to see he hadn’t woken the shivering blond.

“Well, there’s some cans of beans and some peaches or I can make you broth from some jerky.”

The tan face fell with the lack of entrees on the menu and he sighed, “Beans.”

“Coffee or would you like tea instead.” stated Jarrod placing a cup of coffee in front of Nick.

“No dishwater for me.” growled Nick, carefully holding the cup in his unsteady hands, his strength seemingly severely taxed from the short jaunt to the chair. “Thanks.”

Nodding, Jarrod opened the can of beans and dumped it in a pot, the attorney’s back turned away from the man who was staring at the table he was resting his arms on. Hazel eyes staring into the cup of coffee found themselves studying the wood of the table, curiosity getting the best of him and he pushed his chair back, running his hand down the rounded leg, sanded to a smooth finish.

Jarrod heard the chair scrape and turned around, watching as Nick pulled himself back up onto his chair. “Something wrong?”

“Did you see this table?” asked Nick, running his hand over the surface. “It’s beautiful. Looks like it could’ve come from Henry’s place in San Francisco.”

“I know, Nick. Almost all the furniture here is the same except for a couple pieces.” admitted Jarrod, sitting by his brother and placing a hand on his arm. “I took a look around last night and this morning…”

The frown suddenly appearing on his older brother’s face caught Nick’s attention and he waited, his breathing become quieter and his stomach tensing. The tensing in his stomach turned to a physical pain while Jarrod relayed his thoughts on what he’d found, the stores of medicine, the stores of canned goods, the contents of the cabin suggesting the man lying on the bed spent most of his time here, in a place surrounded by ruggedness, a place of wild untamed land and creatures of the forest.

“When I went out to feed the horses this morning, I saw the trail we took to get to the cabin. It’s probably a good thing we came to the ranch at night, Nick.” sighed Jarrod, with a shake of his head. “From the yard, it looks like we came down a solid rock wall with a drop off of at least 500 feet. I thought I heard my stirrup scrapping on something last night but I chalked it up to hearing things. No wonder my hair was standing on end and the horses were so nervous.”

“Holy.” whispered Nick under his breath, his eyes wide with understanding. “If I had relatives like those two in Strawberry, I’d find myself a hole and climb in too. Jarrod, he’s still a kid. What the hell is wrong with those people?”

“I know, Nick.” admitted Jarrod. “Let’s hope they stay away from Heath for good.”

“I’ll gonna make damn sure of it!” whispered Nick angrily, his blood boiling in his veins. “He’s our family!”

Pushing himself up from the table, Jarrod spooned some beans into a bowl and put them in front of his brother, squeezing the strong shoulder of the man who was lost in his thoughts as he went over to the bed, again exchanging hot cloths for cool ones.

“Hot.” muttered the blond, pushing down at the blanket. “Gotta feed Gal.”

“Shhhh, Heath.” soothed Jarrod wiping a wet cloth over the flushed face. “Gal’s fine. Don’t worry about the horses. I took care of them. Everything’s fine.”

A sliver of blue peeked out from under the partially raised eyelid and Jarrod felt the weak hand of his brother touch his arm. “Jarrod?”

“I’m here, little brother.” answered Jarrod, lifting the wet head and placing a cup to his mouth, the cool water cascading down the parched throat spasming his body into coughing.

Two strong hands rubbed the sweaty back and the blue eyes widened with surprise when he realized he now had a brown shirt on instead of a blue one. Jarrod saw the expression of the feverish man change and he held the eyes with his own.

“Rest now, little brother. There’s time for talking later.” ordered Jarrod quietly, his words not alleviating the agitation in the man looking at him. Leaning closer, Jarrod whispered as he held onto Heath’s hand. “If you ever need a brother to listen, I’m here now and always will be. You’re my little brother and that’s all I care about.”

Jarrod watched as Heath struggled, his eyes telling more than words could and his weak body overruled any effort he made at remaining awake. Wiping the perspiration off the blond’s face, Jarrod wondered if he really saw a look of hope in the blue eyes or was it something else.

Chapter 24

Standing on the porch of the large mansion, Victoria’s gray eyes were full of worry and she took a deep breath, “Duke, the boys are three days overdue.”

Nodding, the Barkley foreman agreed, “Yes, ma’am, I know.”

“There is no telegraph office in Strawberry, however, there is one in Pine Crest. Jarrod and Nick were to wire after they reached Strawberry.” stated Victoria, her eyes scanning the horizon for a brief moment.

“Could be the wire is down, ma’am.” suggested Duke. “I could send one of the men to check with Harley.”

“I checked myself when I went to town.” informed Victoria, motioning the long-time foreman of the ranch to sit with her in the chairs on the porch. Duke waited patiently for the leader of the family to speak the thoughts on her mind. While he waited, he ran over the trail to Strawberry in his mind, going through the time required to reach the far off town.

“Duke, how did you meet Mr. Thomson?” asked Victoria suddenly, the blond on her mind most minutes of the day, the question surprising the foreman, who smiled and shook his head, his eyes drifting to the red stallion in the corral further down.

“If it weren’t for Heath, I wouldn’t be here.” sighed Duke, looking up and staring into the gray eyes peeked with curiosity. “Two months ago when I took that bull over to McAllister in Modesto, I was headed back with the cash money. I made camp and while I was eating a man staggered into my camp, groaning and holding onto his side. I thought he’d been shot or stabbed and went over to help.”

“But he hadn’t?” said Victoria.

“No, it was a set up. When I grabbed hold of the fellar, he got my gun and turned it on me. I was about ready to tussle with him and then the other one pulled his hammer back, he was behind me. I didn’t stand a chance sandwiched in between the two.”

The silver haired lady nodded, her mind playing the scene out for her. The occurrence on the trail not surprising, this land will still untamed and wild in many ways. The law was mostly in the towns and when a crime occurred further away from their eyes, it often went unpunished. The perpetrators fleeing the area or killing their victims, leaving no witnesses to describe them. In this young land, there were many stories of men riding trails who were never seen again.

“There I was in the middle of nowhere with these two yahoos, grinning and full of themselves at their diversion.” scowled Duke, the taunting of the two highwaymen still could be heard in his ears, the anger darkening his eyes at the lack of morals and the men’s preying on people instead of working.

“What happened then?” queried Victoria, placing a hand on the arm of the foreman, bringing him back to the story.

“Both of them were in front of me and I was standing there ready to make peace with my maker when we hear the sound of running horses. In all my born days, I’ll never forget it, not as long as I live and breath.” admitted Duke, leaning his elbows on his knees and looking out across the yard.

“The horses came barreling towards us, the dirt was kicking up all around and floating in the air. There was so much it blacked out the moonlight and we were coughing, the dirt was stinging our eyes. Riding behind the herd was the kid and he flew out of the saddle, knocking them to the ground. The kid is sure quick on his feet, ma’am. He sprang up and shot one of them while I was wrestling with the other one. I got the gun after I was able to slug the guy. When I stood up, he lay on the ground. I glanced over to the kid and he holstered his gun. Suddenly, he crouched down and the next thing I know the man on the ground is trying to pull a knife outta his chest. He had another gun and it was in the dirt next to him. So, like I said, if it weren’t for him I would be dead.”

“It was certainly a courageous act on Heath’s part.” sighed the silver haired lady, gray eyes filled with pride. “He could have simply turned the other cheek.”

“Yes, he could have but it would’ve went against his grain.” shrugged Duke. “That night when I made camp, I didn’t realize he and his horses were only four hundred yards from us. He was making a dry camp. That’s how he came to be at the right place in the right time. After we took care of the men, we had supper and talked.”

Chuckling, Duke sat back in the chair and glanced sideways, “Mostly I talked and he would just nod or mumble. He sure wasn’t much of a conversationalist.”

“Didn’t you have to round up the horses?” puzzled Victoria, well aware of how fast running horses could move.

“Nope. He whistled and they all walked up to him like he was their reason for living.” mused Duke. “After some pestering, he finally told me what he did. I’d heard of a kid wrangler off and on for the past two years, but I didn’t know his name and never figured to meet him.”

Smiling, Victoria winked, “At least not that way, huh?”

“Certainly not.” smiled Duke. “I could tell from the way the horses responded to him, he had the gift. I suggested he bring some horses to the ranch and said if the boss liked what he saw, it’d be worth his while.”

Nodding, Victoria sighed and let her mind wander for a few minutes until she turned to the man who’d been the Barkley foreman for the past twenty five years. He was so much more than just a hired hand to the family, to the boys who worked under his guidance from the first time they were given responsibility.

“Heath is special, Duke.” informed Victoria studying the man sitting beside her. “Do you know why?”

Clearing his throat, Duke hesitated before nodding, “Put two and two together, you got four, ma’am. I didn’t know at first til the night he whipped out that knife after Barrett attacked him. It was his eyes which gave him away. Is that why he left?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so. He overheard Jarrod and I discussing his parentage, but he only heard part of the conversation. Nick and Jarrod have gone to Strawberry to find their brother. Now they’re overdue and haven’t sent word.” stated Victoria with a frown. “I’d like you to ride to Strawberry with a couple men. I’m concerned we haven’t received word. Something’s wrong.”

“Nick won’t like that, ma’am.” suggested Duke quietly. “We’ve got lots to do and with him gone, Barrett fired, Frank out with a busted arm, we don’t have a full crew.”

“I’m sure he won’t, however, he’s not here. In my son’s absence, this is my working ranch.” agreed Victoria firmly, the lips of the foreman lifting into a smile and his eyes lighting up at the formidable firecracker housed in a petite woman.

“Write out a schedule of work to be done. Take two men with you in case the boys have run into trouble. This is work not associated with the ranch so in your next paychecks, there’ll be a little extra.”

“You don’t have to.” protested Duke.

“As I said, this is my ranch in the absence of your boss.” winked Victoria cutting off his protests. “You decide who should be in charge while you’re gone, Duke.”

“Yes, ma’am.” agreed the foreman rising to his feet. “I’ll get on it right away and we can leave today.”

Standing, Victoria squeezed the arm of the long-time employee and smiled, “Thank you, Duke. I appreciate your help.”

Patting the small hand, Duke nodded and stepped off the porch, heading for the bunkhouse and his office. The foreman’s mind preparing the list, making the plans for the trip, his heart hoping all was well in Strawberry and he’d meet up with his bosses on the trail in between.

The wind howled, the shutters banged against the side of the rotting building, the desolation of the town, a stark reminder to the blond haired woman of her lack of status, her lack of riches and wealth. Wrapping her shawl tighter around her, she stepped to the open doorway, watching her partner in life readying his horse.

“Are you sure you know where they could be?” snapped Martha, her blue eyes flashing.

“Dammit, we already went over this.” retorted Matt angrily, his temper rising with each second he went without a taste of whiskey and the knowledge of who the couple had at their mercy before it was stolen from them. Martha saw the brand on the horses of the strangers and she’d finally realized who the men were. The dreams of wealth had been within their reach, their fingertips had brushed against it before the blight on their family name took it away.

“The bastard’s ranch has to be by the mountains. It’s the only place that makes sense. It’s isolated and no one else is over there.” repeated Matt for at least the sixth time. “Sides, that guy with the smashed in head can’t ride far in his condition. They’d have to hole up for a few days.”

“I want their money, Matthew.” hissed Martha. “And I want him to pay. He took from us and we can’t allow him to get away with it.”

Chapter 25

Nick wasn’t sure what woke him from the healing sleep he’d been in. The short time of being on his feet, moving about the cabin drained him of all energy, the pulsating pain on the side of his head making it difficult to keep his eyes open and focused. The blinding pain finally forced his big brother to thrust a glass of water laden with aspirin powder into the large trembling hands but the rancher was unwillingly to put the glass to his lips until the cool reasoning of the attorney reached through.

“Nick, you have to get better so we can get our little brother out of here. Now, drink up.” ordered Jarrod firmly, helping his weakened brother back to the pallet on the floor and gingerly laying him down.

Opening his eyes, Nick could tell he’d slept the day away and evening had fallen. The cabin bathed in a soft glow of lamp light and he wiped the sleep from his eyes with a hand no longer trembling. Sitting up at the sounds coming from the bed, he climbed to his feet, stumbling over at the anxious face of Jarrod glancing upwards, the fear in his eyes taking the breath out of the rancher’s lungs.

“No! Uncle Matt!” protested Heath, his head tossing and turning, the perspiration again seeping out of his skin, drenching his body and hair, trying to pull his arm out of Jarrod’s hands. “Don’t..touch…me.”

“What is it?” asked Nick, grabbing hold of the highly agitated blond, placing his body slightly over the combative man and stopping his other arm which was flailing about. “Steady, little brother. Settle down.”

“Nick.” whispered Jarrod, moving the bandage on Heath’s left arm, the gentle touch causing the blond to scream with pain, the agony overriding the glassy look in the depths of his orbs. The red line moving upward out of the wound on the muscular arm paling the strong face and hazel eyes filled with panic.

“My god.” gasped Nick, his eyes filling with tears, the fear clenching his heart at the sign as Jarrod laid the injured arm on the bed and moved to the kitchen cabinet, searching the bottles of herbs.

“Stop..hurts.” groaned Heath, the pain spilling tears from his eyes, the droplets mixing with the beads of perspiration. “No..more…please.”

“Shhhh, Heath.” soothed Nick, cupping the blond’s cheek before running his shaking fingers over the wet hair. “It’ll be fine. Shhhh.”

His legs wouldn’t respond, his body wouldn’t move and the fire in his arm was shooting daggers of pain throughout the limb. His small face was bruised and battered, the strong hand of his guardian sending him flying across the room. He was no match for the man who was a giant compared to his small size. His body smaller than most children his own age couldn’t stop the punishment from being doled out.

His crime was taking a piece of bread from the kitchen, his body begging for nourishment and he’d let its pangs of hunger override his common sense. Caught with the proverbial hand in the cookie jar, the blond boy quivered with fear and ran, his flight stopped when his aunt grabbed his arm as he tried to dodge her. Her brief hold on his arm before he kicked her in the shin was enough of a delay and he was knocked down from behind. She screamed in pain and demanded the bastard be taught a lesson.

Each time he tried to rise, he was struck again, each strike leaving its mark, the blows accompanied with the vile words damning his soul, damning his birth, damning his life. The door to the room was shut and the key turned. Cowering in the corner, his eyes darted around, looking for an escape route. Moving suddenly in a desperate attempt, he felt himself flying across the room, landing against the wall, his arm bone snapping under his body, the pain causing him to scream out.

A hand clamped over his mouth and he felt the worse kind of fear, the innate fear born of true evil and tears fell from his eyes, his screams muffled as the man appointed to take care of him, appointed to keep a small boy from evil felt a sense of excitement at the perverse power he held over another human being and his large hand tore at the waistband of the ragged pants.

“NOOOOOO! NOOOOO!” screamed Heath, fighting against the man holding him, the nausea rising and he struggled to get away.

“HEATH, IT’S NICK.” shouted Nick, pinning the smaller man locked in his memories to the bed, the blue eyes filled with terror and fear, shame and panic. “IT’S NICK BARKLEY! HEATH, STOP IT!”

Jarrod joined in the shouts, the men fighting to reach through the fog of delirium, fighting together to bring their younger brother back from the place he was in. The fever taking him out of the cabin, out of his small home and into a place which sent stark fear through the young man.

The thrashing stopped as suddenly as it began and the blond shivered uncontrollably, his head tossing back and forth, his moans of pain tearing at his brother’s hearts. Jarrod dumped some water in a cup and poured in some herbs, his hand shaking and he took several deep breaths to calm himself, the screaming of the blond leaving no doubt in his mind or Nick’s what happened to the boy left to grow up in Strawberry. Swallowing several times, Jarrod could feel his stomach rising up, the disgust of how their newly found sibling had been treated sickening him and sending a deadly fury through him.

“Shhhh, Heath. We’re here, little brother.” assured Nick over and over, wiping the sweat drenched face, “No one will hurt you again. I promise.”

“Niic?” groaned Heath, hearing the familiar voice, afraid to allow hope to enter his heart.

“I’m right here.” answered Nick, his reply was awarded with two dazed eyes under half opened lids.

Hissing at the pain in his arm, Heath tried to grab onto the offending area, “Argh…hurts.”

“We’ll take care of it.” stated Jarrod, his words sent the glazed blue eyes rolling over to the area of his voice. “It’s blood poisoning, Heath.”

Nick cupped the blond’s face at the fear which shot across it before he could almost sense an air of finality emerge from his younger brother. The blond seemed to have lost all coloring at the dreaded words.

“Leave…me.” whispered Heath, closing his eyes and trying to stop the tears from escaping. “Just..go.”

“NO!” shouted Nick, holding the ghastly colored face in his hands. “LOOK AT ME! HEATH! DO AS I SAY, LITTLE BROTHER!”

The strong commanding voice forced him to open his eyes, the strong hands on his hot face forced his eyes to focus on only the face above him.

“You will fight and we will beat this together.” said Nick, his voice daring the other man to argue, daring him to summon his strength. “We’re right beside you. Trust us, Heath.”

The last words reached deep into the furthest recesses of the shattered soul, seeking to rebuild the splintered being and make it whole once again. Jarrod watched with bated breath as the plea from Nick seemed to light a spark in the very sick man.

“’kay.” whispered Heath weakly, his eyes fighting the darkness, afraid to go back again.

Picking up the right hand of the blond, Nick squeezed it tightly and smiled, “We’ll be here with you, remember that.”

Nodding slightly, Heath’s eyes rolled in the back of his head and he screamed when Jarrod cut the wound and forced blood from the infected area. The blond’s body arched and the veins in his neck were distended in agony before he went limp and fell onto the bed. Nick’s hand was bruised from the sudden pressure applied at the deep pain and he prayed as he helped one brother care for another.

Jarrod wiped the blood away from the infected area, cleaning it before he poured some powdered myrrh and golden seal onto the wound. After the herbs settled into the wound, he spread a poultice of charcoal over it, sealing the area with a clean bandage.

Jumping to his feet, Jarrod flung open the door and Nick could hear the sounds of heaving for several minutes while he held onto his little brother’s hand and used a wet cloth to cool his face.

The sound of returning feet reached his ears and he stood, wrapping his arms around his older brother, offering what comfort he could. Jarrod held on tightly for several minutes, allowing himself some solace before patting the strong back and stepping back.

“We’ll know by morning or early afternoon, Nick.” whispered the first born, his fingers brushing over the pale cheek of his little brother, the man who’d been dealt some ugly, nasty cards by the hand of destiny.

Chapter 26

The dawn of a new day went unnoticed by the men in the small cabin. Two sets of the pairs of hands and their minds kept busy throughout the night, busy applying herbs to the offensive wound, busy trying to cool the fevered body of the rambling blond.

No words were spoken between the two caretakers, each knowing what needed to be done. Their minds sending silent pleas upwards while they fought against the world of terror their patient was locked in. The frightening world uncovered only because the blond’s subconscious brought forth the past life of hell. The hell they’d only had a glimpse of briefly that first night at the ranch when he produced a knife in his unaware state of mind.

The man struggling in the depths of the fiery existence was so different than the young wrangler who’d traveled to their home with his equines. No longer did the brothers see laughter in the depths of blue. The amusement was replaced with a deep fear, the deep stark fear of the child which existed in the body of a man. The released fear was running rampant, running unabated and wild.

Jarrod unwrapped the bandage, his eyes studying the redness after he carefully cleaned the poultice away. He didn’t think the red line had advanced any further up the muscular arm but he couldn’t be sure. Taking hold of the wooden bowl containing the mixture for the poultice, the attorney was thankful for the class he’d taken on a whim in college. The Naturopathy class allowed his mind a diversion from the intricacies of the law, a diversion from case studies clogging his gray matter. The class was interesting and informative, full of knowledge which he never expected to use in a situation like this. A situation of life and death.

A question lingered on the edges of his thoughts, a question just one of many he’d found himself asking in the last weeks and Nick was startled from his own thoughts at the soft voice.

“I wonder where Heath learned about herbs and their uses. I took a class in college.” pondered Jarrod reapplying the poultice and rewrapping the arm carefully, his eyes filling suddenly with exploding emotions which shook his shoulders.

“It’s not fair, Nick!” whispered Jarrod in a harsh, shaky voice. “We grew up in a world where we knew love and have only fond memories of childhood, playing and laughing. He never had a chance to know such things. He lived with animals. My god! I want to go back to Strawberry and make them scream in pain! I want to tear open their chests to see if they were born without hearts!”

The tortured anguish in the light blue eyes matched his own and Nick reached across the small bed to squeeze the back of his older brother’s neck.

“I know, Pappy. It’s not fair.” admitted Nick firmly picking up the right hand of the muttering blond. “I’m furious too. So angry but I’m also so afraid.”

Closing his eyes briefly, Nick took a shaky breath and shook his head slightly before reopening his eyes, reaching up to wipe a sweaty cheek gently with his fingertips.

“I got questions, too. So many I want to ask. There’s so much I need to know, want to know.” scowled the rancher, his eyes watching the blond head’s move on the pillow. “Who’s Rachel? What happened to his mother? How did he come to live with them? Why didn’t father know he had another son? Why didn’t we know he was our brother? Why? Who? What? There’s so many!”

Glancing over to the side, Nick studied the profile of his older brother, the blue eyes locked on the man laying in the bed and his choked words shook his large frame, “I’m drowning with fear, Jarrod. Fear of time slipping through our fingers. I’m afraid the brother we just found may die before I can ask the questions. No, it’s not fair, but right now I don’t care. All I care about is keeping my little brother alive, keeping him safe and away from those monsters he’d been forced to live with when he should have been with us.”

“You’re right, Nick.” said Jarrod. “Let’s get Heath back on his feet and then we will have the rest of our lives to ask each other questions.”

Raking his hand through his black hair, Nick shook his head, “Mother will be worried, Jarrod. We’re five days overdue back home.”

“Yeah, I know. She’s probably worn a hole in the carpet by now. She’s small but she sure has a lot of power.” teased Jarrod, his words bringing a small smile to his brother’s tanned face.

Motioning Jarrod to follow him to the kitchen table, Nick looked into the questioning eyes and suggested quietly. “I think one of us should ride out, wire home and bring a doctor back here. How far from Pine Crest do you think we are?”

Jarrod thought about the suggestion and shrugged, “I don’t know, but we know it’s closer than Stockton. Why don’t we wait til we see how Heath is later, maybe he can ride double with one of us.”

“He’s not gonna be able to do that, Jarrod.” retorted Nick sharply before wiping a hand over his face. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, little brother. I’m worried too.” sighed Jarrod, glancing back towards the bed before looking into the hazel eyes. “I’ll go but are you positive you’re well enough to take care of Heath?”

“I’m not ready to ride a bronc but I can sit in a chair by a bed.” grinned Nick, feeling immensely better at the idea of a bringing a doctor to the remote area. “I’ll be fine, you worry about yourself.”

“I’ll saddle Jingo and head out.” smiled Jarrod wrapping his arms around the larger man. “Just keep reapplying the medicine and I’ll get back as soon as I can.”

Grabbing his gun and hat, Jarrod walked to the bed and looked down at the blond fighting with all his might against the infection and he bent down brushing his lips against the hot forehead. Standing, he wiped his eyes and squeezed Nick’s shoulder on his way out the door. Reaching the barn, the attorney quickly saddled his mount and galloped to the east, his eyes searching the bottom of the rock wall for the start of the trail. The trail was well hidden and if you didn’t know there was one, a person would never have assumed there’d be a way to scale the rock wall looming overhead.

Jingo nervously climbed the trail while his master took deep breaths to calm his unsteady nerves, the ride upward made more frightening in the day when his eyes kept straying sideways to the drop. After several minutes, rider and man topped the trail and moved away from the edge. Glancing backwards, the blue eyes could barely see the cabin which was hidden at the base of the mountain. Looking upwards, he took a bearing on the sun and rode eastward, unaware of the eyes watching as he moved further away from the haven of the cabin.

Chapter 27

Studying the cabin for several hours, the man rose from his hiding place and walked across the expanse of yard in the daylight of the afternoon, his hand slowly lifting the latch of the wooden door, holding onto the edge and pushing open the door without a sound, without a hint to the men inside of his entry.

“Heath, com’n take a drink.” ordered Nick firmly, holding a cup to his little brother’s lips, pleading with the blond who didn’t acknowledge the words. “Please, Heath.”

The blond had steadily declined through the afternoon, his body extremely weaken, his movements stilling significantly and his mumbling ceasing. Hazel eyes filled with tears and the rancher carefully laid down the sweat laden head and placed the cup on the table. Desperation gripped his soul and he fell to his knees by the bed, holding the hot hand to his forehead and begging for help, begging for intervention from above and feeling the cold touch of metal on his neck instead.

The blade of the knife moved upward forcing Nick to follow its movement to keep it from entering his throat and slicing his jugular. The rancher didn’t dare to breath, he didn’t dare to swallow the lump of dread which found its way to his throat. He felt a hand jerk his gun from the holster and throw it across the room where it landed with a clang against the wall. The loud noise in the small area stirring the fevered man only slightly.

Holding his hands up in the air, Nick waited and was surprised when a voice whispered in his ear. “Your gods cannot help him.”

“If you’re gonna slit my throat, do it.” whispered Nick through clenched teeth, his shock at being surprised turning to anger. “Otherwise get the hell away from me so I can help my brother!”

“He is your brother?” questioned the voice in disbelief, then stating. “He was born without a father.”

“We just found out a few weeks ago we have the same father. Heath is my brother and don’t think I won’t break your neck before I die to protect him.” growled Nick, his hands clenching into fists at the soft chuckle in his ear.

“Heath is my friend and we will help him together.” stated the deep voice softly and adding after a pause. “Your anger would be better used in the fight to save his life.”

The blade of the knife lowered and Nick’s shoulders relaxed, his ears only picked up a rustle of clothing before his eyes fell upon the slender built, high cheeked lightly copper skinned man who knelt on the other side of the bed. Brown eyes filled with tenderness as he gazed upon his friend. Glancing over, the anguish in the hazel eyes sent a surge of happiness through his heart. This man would protect his young friend at all costs, he would be the one to wipe his soul free of the shadowy darkness it was surrounded with.

“Nick Barkley.” greeted Nick holding his hand across the bed, watching as it was looked at with hesitation.

“Jim Feathers.” informed the Indian, his brown eyes intently studying the offered hand before he grabbed it in his own and shook it once.

“Blood poisoning from this wound.” sighed Nick, his fear evident in his slightly trembling fingers which exposed the offensive wound.

“What is the name of the man who left?” asked Jim studying the wound and walking to the cupboard, reading the labels on the herb bottles.

“Our brother, Jarrod. He went to bring the doctor from Pine Crest for Heath.” offered Nick placing wet cloths over Heath’s forehead.

“It is too long of a ride.” stated Jim, his face without emotion as it glanced at the larger man. “It is a fool’s trip.”

Fury flashed across Nick’s face and he turned sharply, “HE NEEDS A DOCTOR! WE’RE NOT JUST GONNA LET HIM DIE! NOT WITHOUT DOING EVERYTHING WE CAN!”

The rage flowing through the air at the slender man didn’t phase him in the least, it rolled off his back like water off the duck’s back and he continued mixing his potion, setting it on the table before walking over to the bed, lifting the dead weight of the unconscious man effortlessly.

“Bring the bowl, two blankets and cloths.” ordered Jim walking to the door with his friend. Glaring at the man for a moment, Nick grabbed the items, picked up his gun from the floor and rushed to follow the man who took responsibility of his brother’s care out of his hands with that one movement.

The dusk of the day was approaching as the men walked to the west along the contours of the mountain until they reached a small stream. Nick spread one of the blankets, calm returned to his mind as he gave into taking a back seat, somehow knowing this stranger would go beyond his limits to help his little brother. This man was a friend to his little brother and his caring showed in his mannerism, in his gentle touch.

“Fire.” said Jim calmly while removing Heath of all his clothes, his hands stopping for a brief second at the gasp from the shaken man who’d seen the scarring on the blond he held forward into his chest. Glancing into the wet hazel eyes, the copper skinned man snapped harshly, “NOW!”

Jumping out of his state of shock, Nick quickly assembled a fire, laying a stock of wood beside it before kneeling on the other side of Heath, reaching out and running a hand over his hair. Hazel eyes watched as the bandage was taken off and the tip of the knife thrust into the fire. Cleaning the wound with one of the cloths, the slender long fingers reached inside a pouch, pulling out a small buckskin holder tossing it to the man across from him. Brown eyes met hazel eyes.

“The dead skin must be burned. It must be made clean from that which is deep inside. When I tell you, pour that onto the wound. Then we will deal with the fire inside his body from the uncleanliness.”

“I’m ready.” gulped Nick opening the ties of the pouch, fighting the queasiness which arose from the smell of burnt skin filling the area. Watching and pouring the contents over the wound when instructed, the mixture was lit and burned on the wound for a minute before it was washed away.

Gesturing to the bowl, Jim looked briefly into the pale face of the man across from him, the raw pain in the hazel eyes almost as if he’d experienced the pain from the cauterization and cleaning. Glancing back down, he spread the mixture over the wound and covered it with a patch of buckskin, securing it with rawhide strings.

Thrusting the bowl into the large hands, Jim instructed quietly, “Bring water from the stream. We must cool him slowly or his body will break from the two opposites.”

Nodding in understanding, Nick walked the short distance to the stream washing the wooden bowl quickly and filling it with cold water, his legs shaking with exhaustion and fear on his way back. Jim took the bowl in his slender hands, talking quietly to his white friend while slowly dripping the water onto the scalding hot skin, watching the large hands spread its coolness with the cloth.

Chapter 28

The embers of the fire crackled and jumped about, the light from the flames reached out and caressed the faces of the two men kneeling beside the bed, their muscular arms weary from the battle they waged.

Jim Feathers glanced across at the man whose head bore a bandage and whose face was paling as the hours passed. Not fully healed himself and much to his dismay, Nick found his strength was fading and he was struggling as they fought the fever inside his blond brother.

Nick wiped the wet cloth over his brother again looking up when the slender quiet man stood and walked to the stream, dipping the bowl and bringing it back, carefully pouring the water on his warm friend.

Nick reached up and felt the fevered face with the back of his hand, changing hands and looking over into the brown eyes. “I think he’s cooler.”

“Too warm but better.” mumbled the dark haired man before gesturing towards the head of black hair.

Absently touching the bandage around his head, Nick sighed, “Compliments of Heath’s uncle.”

Grunting his disgust at the mention of the blond’s relative, Jim’s eyes burned with hatred before the emotion was wiped away. Nick picked up his cloth and started wiping the water across the warm body.

“My family owns a ranch in Stockton. That’s where we met Heath. He was delivering some horses he trained. Our foreman asked him to bring them to us.”

“Heath can look into their eyes and speak to their hearts.” offered Jim quietly, sensing something happened which bothered the other man. “If he had wings, he’d talk to the eagles.”

“I believe he would.” smiled Nick, the conversation taking his mind off his exhausted and pained body, his eyes darkening at the remembrance. “On his way off the ranch, Heath saved our mother’s life. One of our hands beat him for it and he stayed with us over a week. Jarrod realized before any of us he was our brother. Jarrod wanted to speak with our mother first before he told us and Heath who his father was. The day before Heath was planning to leave, he overheard Jarrod and Mother talking. He left the ranch in a hurry. He thinks I betrayed him but not telling he was our brother. I didn’t know just like him.”

“Your mother..” paused Jim, seeing the hazel eyes suddenly narrowing, daring him to say anything negatively about the parent. “is better?”

“She’s a very strong woman and is healing slowly.” advised Nick. “Jarrod and I went to Strawberry to find Heath, to talk to him and explain. The only building open was the hotel and we went inside to find out where he lived.”

Wiping a hand across his face, Nick scowled, the light deepening the darkness on his face. “His uncle said horrible things and I lost my temper. I was gonna throttle him when his aunt showed up behind us with a gun demanding I let go of her husband. I dropped him to the floor, he came up and busted me across the head with a bottle. I don’t remember much after that. Jarrod told me Heath jumped through the window and knocked his uncle out and got the gun away from his aunt.”

Nick ran his hand over the drenched blond hair and whispered, “Jarrod knew we were good as dead. He saved us by jumping in the window. On his way through the window, Heath cut his arm deeply.”

“The glass was not clean.” stated Jim simply. “It is the reason for his sickness.”

“He had a fever before the dive through the glass.”

Nick swallowed the lump in his throat and whispered. “We can’t lose him, we just found him. We just found our brother.”

Sighing deeply at the pain in the other’s man heart which could be felt outside his body, Jim looked over with knowing eyes, pointing to his broad chest, “I know the emptiness from the loss of a brother. If the Great Spirit shines down on us, you will not have such a pain. Not today.”

The confidence in the brown eyes took away the weariness in his body, took away the fear in his heart and replaced it with hope. Nick nodded and watched the man stand effortlessly with the bowl in hand, turning and entering the darkness of the night, heading to the stream. Moving the cloth across his brother’s face and down to his chest, Nick stopped, his fingers sensing a change in the younger man and he leaned above him.

“Heath?”

Fate. Kismet. Coincidence. Destiny.

Jarrod shook the words from his mind as he traveled away from the rock trail, picking his way through the forest, heading east. The lawyer was not positive of how much time it would take to reach Pine Crest. He estimated he was possibly at least twenty miles from the town. He was sure when Heath led them from Strawberry to his ranch, it was no more than ten miles to the spot of isolation. Ten miles to Strawberry and ten more to Pine Crest.

The sun was quickly lowering in the sky when he rounded a bend in the trail, startled at the man who suddenly appeared before him with gun in hand. Knowing he couldn’t beat the drawn gun, he jumped sideways off Jingo. The lawyer vaguely heard the report of the pistol before he felt the bullet tearing its way through his body, sending him falling to the ground.

Ignoring the pain, he rolled to his feet and ran to the safety of the trees, his lungs gasping for air and his hand trembling as he pulled out his colt, laying behind some deadfalls. Taking several deep breaths to calm himself, Jarrod suddenly felt light headed and dizzy from the sticky liquid he felt trickling down his skin.

Ripping off his bandanna with his right hand, he shoved it into the round hole in his shoulder and grimaced as his fingers felt the entrance wound. His eyes searched the area before him, his gun clenched in his hand and he felt a shiver up his spine at the maniacal laughter ringing out from the area he’d been.

“Thanks for the trail to my nephew! If you’re a lucky man, you might die before the animals sink their fangs into you! I’d stay around for the party but he’s gotta be taught a lesson first. He knows better than to take from me. When I come back, if you’re not dead, I’ll be more than happy to finish what I started.”

The sound of horses galloping away reached his ears and Jarrod fought to keep himself behind the logs, unsure if it was a ruse. The sun filtered through the trees and his lids grew heavy, his head falling onto his arm before he felt a surge of strength and he lifted his head, his eyes glancing around.

The thought of that thing finding his younger brothers moved him from his prone position. Carefully, the attorney pulled himself to the end of the deadfall, studying the forest in the fading light before climbing to his feet and staggering to the closest tree, his knees shaking from weakness and his head swimming.

His mind focused on the screams of a child surrounded by evil, the screams from his fevered brother. Taking a breath, he shoved himself away from the tree and moved to the next. Jarrod wasn’t sure how much time passed, how many trees he’d set as an objective before he reached the trail, standing in the midst of the grassy area, weaving on his feet.

Heading back the way he’d come, the first born son fell to the ground and lay with gun in hand.

Chapter 29

Most people marry for love, some for money, some to escape. If he’d been asked why he married Martha Carson, Matthew Simmons wouldn’t have been able to give the reason why. Perhaps it was love at one time or perhaps it was because she had the female equivalent of his brutal nature. The two grew stronger from feeding off the weak and helpless around them. They seemed to revel in the pain inflicted on others of their own species. Bullies would shy away from the evilness in the pair of eyes.

Where Matt Simmons lacked a shred of decency or compassion, his sister Leah Thomson knew only gentleness in her soul. She only saw the goodness in life, the possibilities for kindness and love. She gave to others unselfishly and without thought to her own needs. If she had only two pairs of shoes and she saw someone going without, the young woman would have handed off the best pair she had to a total stranger. She’d have done it willingly and with a smile.

It was her compassionate and caring nature which saved the life of a stranger who’d been accosted and near beaten to death. She ignored the protests of the town and took the man into her home where she nursed him back to health, back to a point where the town physician had said he’d never return.

It was her compassionate and caring nature which shined through from her inner beauty, further highlighting her outer beauty, which made the amnesiac man fall in love with his nurse. His love and caring for her was real to him, real to her. He didn’t know he was already wed to another. He didn’t know he was already a father to two boys. Had he known, his own code of ethics, his prior marriage vows would not have been broken and he wouldn’t have lain with the young girl.

Leah Thomson was the gentlest person on the face of the planet and her brother was an evil incarnate who got his pleasure from pain. He never let his sister forget the shame she brought onto him and his wife from the birth of her son. The son begot of a married man from a relationship of sin.

Matt Simmons’ mind warped from years of sadistic thoughts, sadistic longings matched his wife’s and the day they were appointed guardians of their bastard nephew was the only time the couple rejoiced over the blond’s birth. The law in its infinite wisdom handed over to them a means to satisfy their craving for pain, a means of letting go their hired help at the hotel.

In their minds, this boy had brought them shame and he would pay with every inch of their beings. They made themselves feel better as they beat an innocent child into the ground, their rules they demanded the child adhere to would be bent to serve their needs and unjustly punishment would be handed out.

The one thing the couple loved more than pain was their money, their hoarded nest egg. To take from them in any way was a cardinal sin in their minds, the worst betrayal of all and the one which caused the severest of punishments.

Taking the reins of the brown horse, Matt called out to the wounded man who’d fled into the trees. Twisted in his mind he might be but only a fool would follow a wounded animal who was cornered. The man was going nowhere without his horse and he’d bleed to death by the time he would return. The animals could have the body and he’d have the horse, saddle, the contents of the saddlebags and whatever was in the pockets of the man’s clothes when he returned from wherever his bastard nephew and the second man were hiding.

The near noon high sun was beating down on the men sitting their horses in the ghostlike town. The two men watched as their foreman, Duke exited the hotel and stepped off the boardwalk, staying away from the rickety steps. Unwrapping his reins, the foreman climbed into the saddle and the men rode down the street littered with debris from the crumbling buildings.

Waiting til they reached the edge of town, Duke stopped his roan and turned in his saddle to look back at the area they’d come from. Shaking his head, he looked at the two curious men beside him, the loyal hands waiting patiently for explanation.

“A piece of advise boys.” sighed Duke. “If the Strawberry Hotel was the last piece of shelter on earth and you needed shelter to live…stay outside. Death is better than ever entering that place again.”

His curiosity was deepened by the foreman’s bizarre advise and Mike Freeman shifted in his saddle, “Did they see the bosses or the wrangler?”

“There was only a woman inside and she weren’t no help.” muttered Duke, keeping the hatred words hissed about the young wrangler, the newest Barkley son to himself. “The bosses came here to find Heath and I’m sure they got the same reception I did. Cold hearted…”

The rest of the description when unsaid and Mike glanced sideways towards Paul, lifting a questioning eyebrow. Paul frowned and shrugged before he watched the foreman looking around as if trying to decide which direction to head.

Duke was at a loss of what to do, where to go next in the search for the brothers. He’d thought they’d come across the boys headed home, he’d half believed they were only delayed from having to convince Heath to return to the ranch and now, he felt an uneasiness in his stomach. How could three men just disappear?

Paul sighed to himself, he’d been looking forward to seeing the blond wrangler again. The redhead had been intrigued by the younger man’s way with horses and the hand enjoyed watching the man work. Suddenly, he remembered a conversation and blurted out. “The wrangler’s ranch is butted up against the Sierras. He told me when I asked him where he bought the horses from. Heath told me he cut them from a herd of wild horses in the mountains.”

Nodding, Duke’s eyes lit up with hope and he replied, “It’s a big mountain range but good a place as any to start. If we’re lucky, we might be able to see the smoke from a fireplace or find a traveled trail. I sure don’t want to head back without trying every possible thing. I wouldn’t want to be empty handed when I ride back into the ranch yard.”

Voicing their reluctance at facing the strong Barkley matriarch without her two sons also, the hands readily followed the man who lead the crew with a velvet glove. Soft and tender but able to lay the granite law down when necessary. The foreman of the ranch was respected by each member of the crew and the family he worked with. The man’s morals and judgment were without question, his trustworthiness was a second skin he wore everyday.

The three men entered the Sierra mountain range two hours later, the expanse of the area to be searched daunting their spirits but no protests were voiced. Following the tracks of a single horse, the men heard a faint sound in the distance as they stopped to fill up their canteens in the mountain stream.

“Sounded like a shot.” stated Mike looking towards the west as he tightened the cap on his canteen, his eyes only seeing trees and more trees before glancing towards their captain. “You think it was?”

“Hard to say.” admitted Duke. “The mountains can play tricks with noises and echoes. Could just be a hunter if it was a shot.”

“This ain’t the time of day to be hunting.” mumbled Paul climbing back into the saddle, turning his horse to follow the others, who were following the trail of the single horse. The only recent prints they’d found other than mountain lions, deer, bears and other creatures of the woodlands.

Time passed as the men rode deeper into the mountains, the tracks of the trail not hidden and easily discernible in the mountainous environment. The meadow grasses were high, their green tops nearly reaching the underside of the horses’ bellies. Duke’s horse suddenly shied sideways, pushing into Mike’s horse. Looking down, Duke jumped off his horse and knelt in the grass, turning over the still man hidden by the carpet of green, his trembling fingers feeling the pale neck for a heartbeat.

Matt Simmons felt the familiar feeling of eagerness rise up from within him as he lay on his belly and studied the cabin in the darkness of the night. Two hours earlier, he watched as two men came back to the cabin, his eyes only able to pick out their shapes, the moonless sky not providing enough light to see by. The soft light in the cabin stood out like a beacon, calling to him, beckoning him to come closer.

Chapter 30

Nick felt the change in the blond’s body, his hand spread out on the broad chest and his tears welled with the much cooler temperature he felt in the lean body. Leaning over, he called out to his little brother whose breaths were turning rapid.

“Heath?”

He could feel it, the band restricting his chest, his stomach muscles clenching in fear. He’d felt it often as a child and he struggled to open his eyes, to bring the words out from his mouth. The lack of response from his body sending him into a panic, the terror was rising upwards and he fought to sound the alarm.

He could hear the baritone voice calling to him, urgency wrapped around the sound of his name. He knew his breaths were reaching a point of hyperventilating and he reached deep inside, he needed to find a source of strength, a source of power to open his eyes and open his mouth.

“What is it, little brother?” asked Nick, the gasping and highly agitated man on the ground sending fear through him, his hand grabbing hold of the blond’s. “Heath, breath. Com’n Heath!”

The fright in the words reached inside him, pushing his eyes open and he squeezed the hand holding his weakly. Moving his mouth, he watched in the firelight as the hazel eyes glittered with tears searched his. Nick saw the moving lips and bent down, his ear close to Heath’s mouth, the words caused his head to snap up and ask.

“How do you know that sonofabitch is here?”

“Feel…evil.” whispered Heath, his words slurred and barely recognizable. “Care..ful.”

Jim Flowers sat on his haunches watching the exchange between the two brothers who were trapped in their own world, unaware he was there with them. He heard the warning and moved his eyes to scan the darkness outside the low fire. Nick ran his fingers through the drenched blond hair and smiled into the closing blue eyes.

“Rest now, Heath.” ordered Nick softly. “I’ll take good care of you, little brother.”

When the lids closed and shut out the blue, Nick took a breath and glanced over. Jim took the other blanket to cover the injured man, his hand resting briefly on Heath’s shoulder before he met the hazel eyes.

“He will watch before striking.” suggested the Indian quietly.

Nick wiped a hand across his face. “Like a predator stalking its prey.”

A brief smile flitted across the strong high cheek boned face, “Predators can be trapped.”

“What are you thinking?” questioned Nick, the brown eyes of the other glinted with the spark of an idea.

“He does not know about me. Only you and Heath.” suggested Jim. “He will watch the cabin and think there are only two.”

“You’re right.” thought Nick before nodding. “We have to make sure we keep him thinking there’s just me and Heath. He wants surprise on his side but it’ll be on ours instead.”

“I do not think he will like this surprise.” stated Jim, his eyes falling onto his blond friend before he glanced upwards. “He can not be allowed near Heath. I will kill him first.”

Snorting, Nick retorted, “Stand in line, pal!”

Talking over the unconscious man on the ground, the kid barely turned a man they both vowed to protect, the two minds formed a plan of deception. One hand would keep the attention of the uncle while the other hand would strike. Jim melded into the darkness, working his way to the back of the cabin and prying open a window, climbing inside to gather clothes for his injured friend. Nick watched the copper skinned man be swallowed up by the darkness before he cupped the blond’s cheek in his hand, suddenly feeling a chill crawl up his spine when his thoughts turned to his older brother. He couldn’t explain it but the fear held onto his heart and wouldn’t let go.

“Is he dead?” whispered Paul, kneeling beside their still boss, holding his breath while the foreman’s fingers felt the pulse site.

“No, thank god.” said Duke letting the pent-up air out of his lungs, and opening the blood stained shirt. “It went clean through. Paul, help me get this shirt off and Mike, bring a canteen.”

Working together the three washed the wound, the small hole seeping only a trickle of blood when the handkerchief was pulled out and replaced with a shirt torn into two sections. The folded sections were placed over the entrance and exit wounds then bound tightly into place.

“Jarrod! Jarrod!” called Duke after the doctoring was done. The afternoon sun was fading into night, the light of the day slowly disappearing.

Moving his head slightly, the fire in his shoulder seemed to burn stronger in its intensity, the voice calling to him was barely heard over the roaring in his head. Duke saw the eyes moving under their lids and he tapped on a pale cheek with the ends of his fingers, his deep voice calling out again.

Groaning from the wound and trying to rise over the flames to protest the punching on his face, he felt the hands turn him onto his side when he couldn’t stop the sickness from heaving his stomach upwards. Duke lifted the first son into his arms after the retching stopped, the incline further awakening the injured man, blue eyes glanced around in confusion before halting on the older man’s face above his.

“Duke?” whispered Jarrod, his words forced out between hisses of pain.

“You had me worried boy.” smiled Duke. “Who shot you?”

“Shot?” repeated Jarrod, trying to wrap his fuzzy mind around what happened while a canteen was held to his mouth and he took two small sips of water. The coolness of the moisture bringing the reason he was lying in the meadow to the forefront.

“He’s..gonna..kill..’em.” gasped Jarrod trying to move and being held down by the strong arms. “Gotta..ride.”

“Whoa, Jarrod. Settle down.” ordered Duke firmly, holding the man’s face in his one hand and stared into the blue eyes filled with panic. “Slow down or you’ll pass out before you can tell us. Okay?”

Closing his eyes briefly, Jarrod knew the foreman was right but the panic inside of him threatened to overwhelm his good sense. The thought of Simmons finding Heath and Nick scared him to death.

“I’ll ask the questions and you answer.” instructed Duke. “Take your time and tell us everything you can.”

Nodding slightly with his eyes still closed, the inquiry began and it took several minutes to get the facts from the weakened man, his loss of blood taking its toll on his normally strong body, shadowing his mind with tiredness.

“Can you tell us how to get to Heath’s place?” asked Duke seeing the protest start in the lawyer before the words left his mouth.

“I’ll..show..you.” replied Jarrod, trying again to rise against the arms of steel.

“Dang it, listen to me, Jarrod.” commanded Duke waiting til the blue eyes met his. “Mike and I will go ahead, you and Paul can follow at a slower pace. You can’t ride hard or fast in your condition. It’s won’t help your brothers any if we don’t get there as quick as we can. Night’s coming up fast.”

“Okay…Duke.” agreed the injured man, his body loosing its tension from panic at the wisdom in the other’s words, his directions close enough for government work and he whispered in an urgent plea. “Hurry…Duke.”

Handing over the care of the injured man to Paul, Duke and Mike mounted galloping down the trail, trying to reach the hidden entry to the rock trail before the disappearing sun took the light away. Duke cursed when the darkness came upon them, they were still too far away and he knew riding into an area with a hidden enemy was not a gamble he wanted to take at night in unfamiliar territory.

Unable to see from the lack of moonlight, the two men were forced to stop and rest their horses, neither speaking and both wondered what they’d find in the morning after they arrived at the ranch.

Paul and his boss only made it a little way before the oncoming darkness forced them to stop. Reaching up, the hand helped the attorney to a spot on the ground before forcing more liquids into the injured man to replace the loss of blood. Jarrod smiled his appreciation, the gesture not reaching his eyes which were full of concern and worry. His mind wandered through the forest to a ranch hidden and isolated, he hoped his unsuccessful ride for a doctor wouldn’t be the cause of his brother’s death.

Closing his eyes, Jarrod prayed the hand of destiny would roll the dice in favor of a blond who’d lost so much at the hands of his uncle already.

Chapter 31

‘Destiny’ thought Nick to himself. Destiny’s hand in the form of Jim Feathers’ appearance was the only reason his brother was alive. The angry wound cared for by the skillful hands appeared tamed. The blond’s body no longer shook and shivered from the opposite temperatures the fever created in it.

Moving from the table and to the chair by the bed, he smiled tenderly at the sleeping sounds filling the cabin. The smaller man exhausted from their trek back to the cabin, actually Heath’d only walked with Nick’s help from the edge of the treeline to the front door. Jim had carried him through the forest, the man’s eyes seemingly able to see in the darkness like a cat’s, his steps sure and quiet.

After Jim had reappeared by the small fire from his unseen trip to the wooden house, the two men dressed the blond in dry clothes while Heath slept, his body wore out and he moaned when his left arm was tucked into his shirt to keep it still. The blond hadn’t woken til some taps on his cheeks slowly opened his eyes, his mind trying to understand the whispered plan. Nodding slightly, he tried to make his legs work as he was helped along by the older man, feeling as if he’d walk the entire western coastline of this great country by the time he was deposited on the bed.

Nick pulled up the jeaned legs and covered the unconscious man with a blanket before lighting a wick, sending a faint glow of light through the area. Checking his gun, he hesitated before taking the knife out of its sheath and placing the grip in his brother’s right hand. Making a mental note to himself to make sure he took it away when everything was over. Entering the two rooms, Nick shut out any prying eyes by closing the shutters, this action would force the predator to seek out the front of the house.

Lighting the stove, the dark haired man put on a pot of water, knowing he needed the hidden power inside the coffee grounds to keep him awake. The soft light from the lantern highlighting the section by the stove and up to the kitchen table, the rest of the room lay outside of its shimmering light.

Pouring a cup of coffee, he took a piece of jerky from the tin on the shelf and took a seat in a chair which stood just on the outside of the light, his body surrounded by darkness, his hazel eyes able to see the front door and front window. Methodically chewing the jerky, the man who often fought the restraint of being patient, took a deep breath at the familiar need to move rising up, the need for action as opposed to inaction. Nick didn’t like the idea of Jim Feathers outside with Heath’s uncle any more than he liked waiting like a sacrificial lamb, tied up to a stick waiting for the wolf to bare its teeth.

Shaking his head, he finished his coffee and placed the cup down on the floor, sitting up and casting his eyes to the shadowed bed where the reason for patience lay, the reason for the ruse and in his heart, he knew he’d do anything for the younger man, anything for this brother he didn’t know.

When all was said and done, when the hand of destiny was played out, Nick wondered if he’d be taking home another brother or leaving a piece of his soul behind in the mountain range which loomed up over their heads.

Frowning, Nick let out a shaky breath and put his elbows on his knees, his brow furrowed as he brought his older brother forward in his mind. Had Jarrod reached Pine Crest yet? Was he on his way back with the doctor? Would he unknowingly enter the area and unwittingly upset the plan before Jim had a chance to find Simmons?

The what-ifs and scenarios were kicked around in his mind, the questions not alleviating the torment of waiting, the anguish of how many things could happen to turn the tables back in the favor of the predator. In favor of the relative who’d given the blond nothing but pain and hurt since the time of his birth.

It nagged at his subconscious as he watched the cabin, the fleeting thought dancing on the edges of his mind and the predator scowled. His instinct told him something was wrong, something was not right with the cabin and the beckoning light. He couldn’t put a finger on it but he trusted his inner sense of survival and he moved back from his hidden spot, working his way closer to the edge of the corral nearest to the trees.

Matt Simmons trusted the innate sense within him, the feeling honed over the years of hiding in wait, waiting for his prey to enter the area of its death, carefully building his repertoire of man hunting skills. He trusted the innate sense explicitly as it had never served him wrong over the years.

Something was not right. It was almost as if he were the hunted instead of the hunter. The idea repeated in his head and he knew without a doubt, there was someone outside the cabin waiting in the darkness. There was someone who stood by ready to strike when he moved. There was someone he wasn’t supposed to know about and he stilled himself, his body merged with the shadows around him, his dark clothing not giving away his position.

Knowing he needed a diversion against the unknown element, the predator moved through the darkness, not making a sound and entered the barn, his hands feeling the hay bales stacked in one of the stalls and he entered cautiously. The sound of horses were the only thing his ears heard, the stamping of hooves and snorting filled the large building.

Opening the lid of a lantern, he quietly poured out a small amount of kerosene onto the ground by his feet. Taking a small box out of his pocket, he rubbed it into the wetness on the floor then wiped his fingers on his pants. His hunched over body and the solid wall of the stall hid the flare-up of the match, the unignited end was set into the small box and laid carefully beside the dumped accelerant.

The flame from the single match not seen outside the stall and he made his way back into the darkness, his eyes sorting out the shadows as he made his way around to the eastern side of the cabin, waiting and smiling at the fire which could be seen building in the barn. The gentle night wind helping coax the fire to burn faster and spread quicker.

Jim Feathers dashed for the opening of the barn, the crying of the trapped horses inside calling out to the man, his eyes burned from the dark smoke, the heat inside searing his lungs, sending his brachial to spasm and deep coughs wracked his muscular body, his body’s unwilling response causing him to inhale more smoke.

He stumbled after jumping to the side to avoid a falling timber, pushing onward and opening the stalls, sending the horses flying out into the freedom of the night. Emerging from the back of the barn engulfed in the fiery inferno, his legs gave out from his body craving clean oxygen, the thought of failure briefly graced his mind before he succumbed to his own weakness.

Unable to clear his mind of thoughts of Jarrod’s well-being, Nick shook his head and ran his hands over his face before hazel eyes glanced outward and he cursed. The chair falling backwards as he lunged out of it, the sight of the burning barn through the window making him forget his part of the plan. The rancher’s heart raced with fear from the building wearing a blanket of flames and he jerked open the door, automatically fearful for the animals which were trapped inside.

Stepping onto the porch, he felt the evil in the air raising the hair on his neck before his breath was taken away by a blow to his solar plexus, then quickly followed with one to his chin, his body falling sideways onto the wooden landing. Feet stepped over his crumpled form and entered the cabin.

Chapter 32

Where there was complete darkness, a velvety blackness caused by the hidden moon was now a glow on the horizon. A glow of light. The glow rose higher and brighter against its dark backdrop. Four sets of eyes saw the orange glow and each felt a shiver in his soul.

Duke rushed to his horse, quickly saddling, his ears hearing the hand following his lead. The foreman jumped in the saddle, pushing towards the glow, using it as a beacon in the darkness of the night. His body tense with fear and he shivered at the tickle running up his spine.

Paul helped his boss into the saddle, his attempts at keeping the attorney from riding were a lack in futility. The dark haired lawyer looked sicker as the glowing light grew larger, he knew it was the barn on fire. It was the only structure around with any size and he prayed for the safety of Nick and Heath. He prayed to his father who was watching from above to keep his two sons safe and bring them home.

He could feel it. He could feel it deep in the furthermost recesses of his very soul. He fought to wake to more than a semi-conscious state, his body cried out with protest, his hand feeling the handle of its knife in his palm. His mind in a state of fogginess couldn’t reason why his weapon was there.

He was sure he hadn’t gotten it but he wasn’t sure how it came to be there. He couldn’t seem to separate his nightmares from the exhaustive state he was in. Slowly blinking his eyes, Heath felt his body tremble convulsively with fear at the sneer of contempt from the man slowly descending over the bed.

“You took from me, boy.” sneered man, emphasizing the word boy, twisting the term with his vile mouth and evilness, the tone transporting the injured man back in time.

Heath lay petrified with terror, the leering eyes making him sick to his stomach, his breaths were coming in gasps, the inconsolable fear of a small boy taking over and shuddering his body.

“You took from me, boy and you’re gonna wish you were dead by the time I’m done.”

“NO!” hissed Heath in anguish, knowing if his hated uncle were here standing over him, the boyhood friend who lit fuses with him in the mine and his brothers must be dead. The brothers he’d just found were gone, the pain at the time stolen was excruciating, the time to get to know his new brothers had been taken away by this master of evil.

The anger at what he’d lost sent a rush of adrenaline through his body and he slashed outward with the knife he held in his hand, the blade not reaching his uncle, the movement stopped by the large hand grabbing onto his arm and bashing his wrist against the night table. Crying out in pain, his fingers opened against his wishes and the knife clattered to the floor.

“You little bastard.” snapped Matt angrily, only his quick movement kept the blade from catching his body.

Pulling up his nephew by grabbing a handful of shirt, he saw the pain spread across the blond’s face before he threw the weak man bodily off the bed, watching the blond slam into the wooden floor, lying stunned before gasping in pain and trying to push himself upward with one hand, his left arm useless from the infection.

Heath gasped, his breaths ragged and tortured. He knew he was going to die, he couldn’t fight off his uncle in his weakened condition. He was as helpless as a newborn, powerless to defend himself from the brute coming towards him. He groaned as he was pulled upwards again, his legs unable to hold his weight but two hands held him in place so dark eyes, black as the ravens wing could star into light blue ones.

“I shoulda killed you long ago, boy.” sneered Matt, intent on dispensing his warped brand of justice out on the man who grew from the boy. His body responded to the thrill rising up in him, the thrill of his sickness leaving him focused on the blond he held in front of him. His black eyes glinted, his mouth almost salivating from the mental pain he heaped on the physical pain.

“Long before your whore mother pushed you out. I shoulda cut her and pulled you out. You ain’t ever been nothing but grief, a mistake I’m gonna finally right, boy.”

Blue eyes flashed with anger but his body wouldn’t respond to the fury, not with any strength behind it, not with any strength to cause serious damage. Unable to silence the man’s words with his fumbling right hand, Heath moved his head and smashed the nose and lips of his uncle.

Tears from the sudden blow appeared in the dark eyes, the smashed lips and nose bleeding with the impact, the howl of rage loud in the blond’s ears. Heath felt a moment of dizziness from headbutting the monstrous face, his lips smiling at the red he saw starting to flow. He thought for a moment about how he’d wanted to silence the words of his aunt and uncle ever since he’d been sent to live with them.

His thoughts were slapped out of his head by a backhand which sent him staggering towards the wall. Holding out his injured left arm to stop himself, he couldn’t squelch the pain of anguish from leaving his lips when the injured limb exploded in fire. The jolt sending him to his knees and forward onto the floor from the darkness rapidly moving in from the edges of his vision.

The howl of rage and the scream of pain pierced through another man’s darkness sending him stumbling into the doorway, gun in hand, pointing it at the man who seemed to fill the small cabin, the fodder for nightmares and terror standing over his little brother.

“SIMMONS!” shouted Nick, jumping sideways and squeezing the trigger at the man who pivoted around on the balls of his feet, pulling his own gun sending the flames of death from the barrel.

Nick felt more than he heard the swish as a bullet flew by his head, his own gun was bucking in his hand, his two shots lifting the man off his feet and sending him backwards to land in a crumbled heap on the floor.

Pushing himself up from where he’d landed on the floor, Nick held his gun on the large man, kneeling and feeling for a pulse. Not sad when he didn’t find one. Shoving his gun back into his holster, he carefully turned Heath over and pulled him up into his arms, the blond’s face was still but his chest was moving, drawing in air. Hearing approaching footsteps, Nick held the blond to his chest and pulled his gun, pointing it at the door.

A man coughing badly stumbled through the doorway, falling forward on his hands and knees, the brown eyes peering out from the soot covered face. The eyes, watering and barely open, from the swelling around them, the red marks suggesting falling sparks or ashes had landed on the copper face.

Putting his gun down, Nick let out a deep sigh, “You okay?”

Nodding and coughing, Jim crawled over to the brothers, his face smiling at the sight of the dead man behind the pair. Opening his mouth, he tried to talk but his throat was still overwhelmed with the effects of the smoke.

“He’s okay.” informed Nick, glancing down at the younger man with a frown. “He almost wasn’t. The fire made me forget and he almost paid with his life.”

Jim put a shaky hand on the dark shirt, shaking his head in denial before sitting back and coughing. The hacking sounds stirring the unconscious man into opening his eyes, lifting his lids only slightly.

“Hey, little brother. Everything’s fine now.” smiled Nick with relief, then teasing. “I don’t recall saying you could get out of bed though.”

The two dazed eyes looked from one man to another before a smile flitted across the pale face and he slipped into the darkness, welcoming it to take his pain away and welcoming the blanket of security the hand of destiny wrapped around his weakened body.

Chapter 33

The smile briefly lit up the pale face, dazed emotion filled eyes greeted him then Jim and Nick felt his heart lurch in his chest. The smile said so much to the older man and he hoped the brief thought he saw in the pools of blue were not part of his imagination but part of the future.

Carefully picking up the blond, Nick set him on the bed, picking up the blanket from the floor and recovering his brother. Jim was coughing harshly and the larger man poured some water and knelt beside him, holding the glass to the singed face.

“Drink this, then we’ll take a look at those burns on your face and hands.” said Nick quietly receiving a slight nod before several glasses of water were consumed, providing a balm to the spasming throat, replacing the water dried inside his tissues from the heat of the inferno.

Helping Jim to the table, Nick glanced out at the barn, the wood burning and partially collapsing inward upon itself. The rancher took a deep breath to calm the adrenaline the events of the night sent surging through him before searching the first aid supplies. Twenty minutes later, Jim Feathers’ was sleeping on the floor, his face supporting a bandage covering the burns around his eyes which caused swelling, the copper skinned hands wrapped in gauze after they were lathered with ointment.

Grabbing hold of the intruder, Nick pulled him outside out of the cabin and over to the side where he wrapped him in a blanket, unceremoniously leaving the body where he stopped.

“Bet the buzzards would be poisoned if they took a peck outta you.” muttered Nick harshly, unable to fathom the unspeakable horrors the grown man had inflicted on a small boy.

‘Boy’ thought Nick, the word ringing in his head, the sound of it skirting the edge of his mind and he grabbed onto the side of the house, his knees suddenly weak. His mind relaying what his ears heard while he was working his way back to consciousness in the doorway. He could hear the vile contemptible sneering of the word ‘boy’ by the dead man. The man who’d made life a living hell for his little brother.

“I’m sorry, Heath. I didn’t know.” mumbled Nick with profound guilt, remembering the cold look in the blue eyes when they’d first met after he called the blond, boy. Then later, the harshness in the pained wrangler’s voice when he demanded Nick not address him with the single word. “God, you probably heard his voice in your head even though I was the one saying it.”

Looking down at the blanketed mound by his boots, the anger at the injustices suffered by an innocent child raked across his heart and Nick snapped, “Too bad someone like you can only die once! You shoulda had to suffer like he did and still does. It was over too quick.”

A crashing of the final support beam of the once large barn drew Nick’s eyes upward and he shook his head at the final act of destruction by Heath’s uncle. Closing his eyes briefly, he gave thanks, aware of how much more could have been lost and would have been had the monster succeeded.

Entering the cabin, Nick wet a rag and dried to erase the blood stains from the wooden floor. Sitting back on his heels, he took a deep breath and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. His own muscular frame begged for sleep, begged for relaxation from the past days full of tension and despair. Removing as much as he could of the reminder, Nick checked on his sleeping patients, his hand lingering on the cheek of the blond, hazel eyes tender and full of promise. Taking another blanket, he dropped the bar in place effectively shutting off entry to the cabin and took a place by the bed on the floor, quickly falling asleep while holding onto his gun.

His final thought before his eyes closed were of the woman Jarrod described who still resided in Strawberry. The woman whose husband he’d killed and who Pappy thought was perhaps even more heartless than the man she married.

Duke and Mike saw the glow of the fire from their position up on the ridge. The beacon of the flames guided them closer but the darkness prevented them from going any further. Searching but unable to see more than a few feet in front of them, the foreman swore and relented begrudgingly to waiting til the darkness lifted and the trail could be found.

The slow dawning of the day brought an alleviation of the darkness and it brought the other pair of men they’d left behind earlier. Jarrod’s face was pale and pinched with pain as he rode in front of Paul who was holding his boss in the saddle.

Duke stood with his hands on his hips, his eyes sparking with anger drilled into the first born son who smiled slightly, his blue eyes daring their longtime foreman to keep him behind and away from his brothers.

The smile on the face of the Barkley son was one Duke’d seen before. It was the same look of determination and bravado which had graced the face of their father. The Barkley stubbornness flowed through all his children like a rushing torrent of water down from the mountain, male or female, stubbornness was part of their souls, part of what it was to be Barkley.

Defeated before he even opened his mouth, the foreman threw up his arms and threatened, “Jarrod, your mother’s gonna hear about this!”

Chapter 34

Four days later on legs rubbery and hesitant, Heath sighed at the male voices he heard in the ranch yard through the open door. The once serene silence of his isolated home was gone. The calming influence of the past years gone by the intrusion into his haven. His eyes fell to the dark spot on the wooden floor, his fingers trembled slightly, the presence of his uncle lingered in the small cabin he could no longer call home.

The sheriff and doctor brought from Pine Crest handled their respective jobs efficiently and professionally. The lawman accepted the events as relayed in bits and pieces from each of the participants. The Barkley name and their upstanding position in the community was one factor which cemented the validity of the stories in the lawman’s mind.

The other factor was his own previous suspicions but unfounded proof for the missing travelers who unwittingly strayed into the area of the near deserted town. The sheriff had never been able to prove the Simmons’ involvement in the cases of missing persons. It was all circumstantial with no solid evidence. Now, the lawman was confident the death of Matt Simmons would ensure the safety of future unsuspecting travelers.

The only change in the expression on the face of the lawman when the youngest and most injured man stammered through the reason for his uncle’s apparent hatred was a clenching of the lawman’s jaw and the straining of his cheek muscle. The man had heard and seen so much over the years, yet he found himself shocked at the depths of evil Simmons held inside him. Thanking the men and stepping aside to allow the physician to continue his work, the sheriff suddenly felt a need to wrap his two young sons in his arms and never let them out of his sight when he returned home.

The physician carefully examined each injured man. The medical doctor whose knowledge was learned at the best medical school in the country was intrigued at the natural method used to cure the poison out of the wound on the blond’s arm. His skepticism at the combination of herbs and cauterization had slowly dwindled away as his eyes observed the truth.

Even though the physician felt the men who’d been with the injured blond was aware of the seriousness of the wound, he sighed before professionally admitting even with his skill and knowledge, he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to stop the advancement of the blood poisoning through conventional means. All eyes had gratefully turned to Jim Feathers whose face was blistering and red from the fire. The man who preferred to meld into the background simply shrugged at the grateful looks before winking at Heath then leaving the cabin.

Treatment of rest and rebuilding of the blond’s energy and strength was given. His body had suffered a great trauma and needed to regain what it’d lost. The prominent attorney was taken to the side after the physician examined his shoulder. Stressing to the oldest the importance of the need for the blond to be in an environment which would be conducive to his convalesce. Not alone on a ranch which carried the stigma of the trauma and not alone on a ranch with no one to help ensure he didn’t overtax his injured body.

When the physician was ready to depart, the lawman strapped the ripe body of Matt Simmons to the horse Duke found tied beside Jingo in the tress above the ridge. On their way back to Pinecrest, the two professionals would deliver the corpse to the widow.

Heath’s eyes stared at the spot of darkness on the floor until a hand on his shoulder drew his eyes away.

“You okay, Heath?” asked Nick, not surprised when he entered the cabin to find the blond out of bed and dressing under his own steam.

Heath took in a shaky breath and nodded, meeting the hazel eyes briefly before looking down, whispering as he struggled with the buttons on his shirt. “His body may be cold but I still feel him all around. It hangs heavy in the air, Nick. Sometimes I swear it’s gonna suffocate me.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat at the effect the dead man had on his new sibling, Nick pushed the trembling fingers aside, finishing the chore of closing the shirt, needing the silence to gather his thoughts before speaking.

“I can’t begin to imagine what you’ve been through from having to live with those…people. I don’t know if anyone can ever understand what drives some in this world to thrive on pain and destruction.” stated Nick, moving his hand to hold the back of the blond’s neck, hazel eyes burning into blue.

“The only thing I know is you’re a man who grew up in a place full of evil. You rose above the hell which was around you. I’m proud to have you by my side. You made it through all those years, don’t let the bad memories of them steal you from me. Don’t let them win, little brother.”

The large hand on his neck, the sincerity and earnest in the deep voice brought unwanted tears to the blue pools, shimmering their depths and sending a ray of freedom through him. The larger man saw the emotions overcoming the smaller and he drew him into a giant sized hug. The blond trembled from weakness and relief, his hands entwined in the black vest. The strong arms sheltered Heath from the oppressive memories which lingered in his small home.

“Thanks, Nick.” whispered Heath patting the strong back before pulling away.

Jim and Jarrod stood in the doorway, observing the two brothers and witnessing the exchange between them. Wiping a hand over his eyes, Jarrod glanced sideways, surprised at the flaring emotion on the stoic copper skinned face, the brown eyes suspiciously sparkled with moisture. Squeezing Jarrod’s shoulder, Jim smiled slightly as he wiped his eyes and left the brothers alone.

“Brother Nick. Brother Heath.” stated Jarrod before closing the distance to the two men and smiling. “The hand of destiny has brought us together as brothers. May I suggest we take advantage of all she is granting us which is a future full of hope, full of new found riches and full of family.”

Rolling his eyes, Nick smirked as he gazed into the blue eyes of his little brother. “Remember you said he was the thinker in the family. When we get back to the ranch, I’ll show you where Silas keeps the headache powders.”

“Headache powders?” questioned Heath suspiciously. “What for?”

Putting a strong arm over the smaller man’s shoulders, Nick shook his head and sighed deeply, “Little brother, its for all the headaches you’ll get from trying to understand what our lawyer brother is saying. His ability to talk in circles can split open the hardest of heads. Sometimes I think he only wins his cases cause the jury gets tired of listening to him.”

“Well, Nicholas Jonathan Barkley, you should know since yours is the hardest head of all.” teased Jarrod with a wink to the smiling blond, blue eyes meeting blue. “You ready, Heath?”

No words had been spoken of the events which lead to the blond’s escape from the ranch over the past four days. All three were simply thankful for being able to stand by each other and enjoy the brotherly bonding which was starting anew. The time for talking would approach but for now, the men were happy with the cards being dealt by the hand of destiny and a change in dealers was not needed. For now, they would enjoy the ride and the company of each other.

Chapter 35

It was twenty one days since he’d parted company with his childhood friend, the small blond who worked the mines with him, setting charges and trying to stay alive. The man, born of a white father and Indian mother, also knew first hand the cruelties of people’s hatred. Jim Feathers was headed back to the small village he lived in with his mother’s people on the northern border of California. He’d been on his way to the village when he chose to stop at the isolated ranch and visit with his old friend. Jim survived with one foot in the world of both parents. Never completely an Indian and never completely a white. In his heart, he knew the brothers yearned to spend the rest of their lives with Heath and surround him in light to eventually push the darkness of his past away. Perhaps understanding the blond more than any other person in the world, Jim Feathers wondered if his young friend would be able to embrace the family he’d never had since the death of his own mother.

It seemed like a lifetime ago since the three brothers, the foreman and the two hands returned to the ranch. It felt like years to the blond but it was only three weeks.

The first week on the ranch was spent close to the mansion under the watchful eyes of his siblings’ mother and Silas. Victoria Barkley had smiled with relief at the returning group, her eyes sparkling with happiness, her welcome to her husband’s son was sincere and in his mind, very generous. It was generous of this great lady to welcome him into her home, to welcome the byproduct of a love that never should have been.

Her generosity and kindness overwhelmed the young man as did many other things in the past weeks. His was a life of forced solitude before, a life of doing for himself, living for himself. Other than when he delivered his horses and checked on his elderly aunt, the blond effectively shut himself away from prying eyes, sneers and whispers.

The public proclamation of who he was, who his father was started the cycle again.

The eyes watched his every move when he went into town, so much so he felt they were literally burning through his soul, searching inside of him to see if he were the spawn of the devil. He hadn’t felt such intense scrutiny in the past five years and he was floundering like a fish out of water. Unsure of what to do, unsure of what to say, what not to say. He was feeling the pressures of what it was to be a member of the Barkley family.

Ironically, the only other time he’d been free of the community’s reactions to his birth and very presence was when he went to war, when he served in the unit of Major Binginton and even at Carterson prison. No one knew of his birth circumstances and he was judged by his actions, his skills with a rifle and by how he survived the daily horrors of the Confederate prison. There he was only known as another soldier who was unfortunate to get captured and sent to the prison. He was an individual among many of the same caliber, he could get lost in the crowd.

In Stockton, he was an individual who couldn’t blend in, who couldn’t go about daily living as others in the community did. Here he was a member of the prominent Barkley family and even worse, he was the scandalous blight on the family name. Here he was in the limelight, on center stage with all eyes focused on his every move.

The family tried to shield the man who was still a teenager from the community as much as they could. The ranch crew who’d spent time with Heath when he was known as the wrangler from Strawberry treated him as one of them. They liked the quiet man before and even though his father was discovered to be Tom Barkley, it didn’t change their thoughts in the least. They respected him for the person he’d shown himself to be, the way he had with horses and the hard work he did every day. He never shirked any job and often did more than was necessary, more than his fair share.

These past weeks was frightening to the gentle man. It was frightening to the man who seemed to be grasping at straws, dangling from the edge by only his fingertips. He wanted nothing more than to escape the contemptuous looks, the mouths whispering behind hands. He wanted nothing more than to take the turmoil away from the family who openly welcomed him, the turmoil his being in Stockton caused. He knew their public acceptance of him caused each member of the family to lose someone they considered a friend and the family to lose some business acquaintances.

Victoria watched from her window as the shadow moved across the ranchyard under the moonlight. She didn’t need to see his face to know who it was. The past week she’d heard her husband’s son quietly walk past her door, his steps light and careful. The past week she’d watch from her window, holding her breath to see if he’d return to the house or ride out.

For once in her life, the strong willed woman was unsure of what step to take next. She knew Heath was having a difficult time adjusting to his new home, his new life, and the whispers directed his way. It was as difficult for him as it were for the rest of them.

It wasn’t difficult in the sense of getting to like or even love the young man. He had a gentle soul and caring nature. He was a person who would do everything he could for those he trusted and loved. The relationship with his siblings was a testament to the genuine bond they’d built. No, it wasn’t difficult to love the newest member in the family.

It was difficult to sit by and see him slowly distancing himself, slowly stepping further away from the family he’d gained. Though they never told Heath of the testing of their friendships and business acquaintances his arrival caused, the blond was sharp minded and intuitive, his blue eyes saw all which went on around him and he instinctively knew the ramifications the family was receiving.

Nick who worked by his little brother’s side each day sensed a change in the younger man, a change he tried to get the blond to talk about. The tightlipped man simply smiled and clapped his brother on the back, teasing the older man about wanting to gossip like an old hen instead of working. Realizing Heath wouldn’t talk about whatever was eating at him, Nick hesitated but then didn’t press the matter.

The rancher was afraid of forcing his brother into a corner, afraid of the ramifications if the blond felt oppressed or about to be overpowered. He wanted to speak with Jarrod but the eldest was in San Francisco and not scheduled to be back for three days.

Nick was at a loss of what to do and he somehow knew if he didn’t find a way to give Heath a lifeline, they were sure to lose the blond, to lose the son of their father. Nick sensed the underlying tension in the newest family member and the suffocating eyes watching his every move was starting a powder keg to build inside him. It could be seen in the quick flashes of temper in the blue eyes, a quick surge before his blond brother could get back his control. His brother was a man and yet, in so many other ways, he was just a boy. A boy who’d experienced more in his short lifetime than some people do if they live to be a hundred.

This was his brother, a man who was like a wounded animal inside. A wounded animal who preferred to hide in a cave and away from all other animals. A wounded animal who would fight, bare its teeth and snap when cornered. A wounded animal whose need for self-protection had been created since the time of his mother’s death.

Gray eyes watched as the shadow moved back across the ranch yard and towards the front door. Letting out the breath she’d been holding, Victoria heard the whisper of movement on the runner in the hallway, her keen hearing picking up the sound of a quietly closed door.

Sitting down in the chair by her window, she picked up the framed photograph of her husband, the ray of moonlight showing his face to her. Her finger traced the outline of his jaw and she whispered into the still room.

“Tom, tell me what to do. Tell me how to help him, how to help Heath. How?”

Letting her tears fall from her eyes and splash down onto the picture, the Barkley matriarch recognized the irony of the situation.

The hand of destiny stole her husband away and brought to them on the anniversary of his death, his child by another woman. Now the hand of destiny threatened to steal his child away, a man she’d be proud to call son, a man who her family needed above all else, a man who filled the emptiness in their hearts.

To be continued…