The Hand of Destiny

Chapters 52 - 69

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 52

Jarrod grabbed his coat while he grilled his brother. “Did Heath say anything last night about needing to do errands, stopping somewhere or anything unusual, Nick?”

“No, Jarrod. He was supposed to meet Duke and Tim up on the north ridge to check the fences but he never showed. I didn’t know til I got back to the ranch with the other crew.” stated Nick frustrated, slapping his gloves against his jeans. “In the last months, Heath’s never been late for work or not shown up. No one’s seen him since he headed to town to send the wire to George about Audra’s present. I checked and he was there first thing waiting to send the wire.”

“He was here for probably a half hour this morning.” said Jarrod grabbing his hat and leading his brother to the door. “He said he was headed back to the ranch on his way out.”

“He never made it, Pappy.” whispered Nick, his anguish in his words matching his eyes. “Tim and Mike are leading the crews searching the ranch. Duke and I searched the road to town but we came up empty.”

“I think we should check the orphanage first. He may have stopped in there to see John on his way home. At least, it’s a place to start.” suggested Jarrod receiving agreement as he climbed up on Jingo.

The yard of the orphanage which was situated three miles from town was a chaotic scene of children and staff running around, their voices calling out. The men dismounted and were immediately met by John Timmons.

“John, have you seen Heath?” asked Jarrod.

Shaking his head, Timmons sighed, “No, I haven’t seen him Jarrod in a few days. Why?”

“He’s missing.” informed Nick, glancing around at the havoc before asking, “What’s going on, John?”

“One of the boys is missing. Terrance Baker. He didn’t show up for his afternoon chores and no one’s seen him.” worried the older man.

“Maybe he’s hiding so he doesn’t have to do his chores.” replied Jarrod.

“For a while, Terrance was disobedient and constantly fighting the rules and other kids. Then, after he was allowed to assist Heath with the construction he’s done a turn around.” frowned John with a shake of his head. “I can’t imagine him going back to his previous ways. Not that I expect him to be a perfect angel, if he was then he wouldn’t be an active energetic boy.”

“Mr. Timmons, Thunder is gone!” exclaimed a small boy repeatedly as he rushed over to the group of men, breathing hard from his dash across the expansive orphanage yard. “He’s not in the barn or the pasture!”

“Thank you, Joshua.” stated Timmons, his eyes lighting up in anger as he waited for the young boy to leave the area of the men. “He must have gone to the mine again.”

“What mine?” asked Nick suddenly fearful for the safety of the small boy.

“The old Dalton mine up in the hills. I’ve told the children it’s dangerous and to stay away from that area.” explained the head master, looking up at the men. “I know you’re here to find Heath but would you mind coming with me in case, well, in case there’s any problems.”

Glancing over at Nick, Jarrod could see the increase of worry in the hazel eyes of his brother. The wealthy rancher knew all too well the danger and temptation the closed mines presented to children, searching for a way to act out the things in their imaginative minds. Nick nodded, his heart clenching in pain, the pain of losing one of his childhood playmates to a closed mind as fresh today as it was sixteen years ago. A child and his brother were missing. Unfortunately, the child became the top priority given his tender age and Heath’s mystery would have to wait.

Mounting, the men followed the older man towards the mine, their eyes seeing the sign of a horse’s track on the ground as they rode. The afternoon sun was lowering steadily into the sky and all the riders stopped at the sight of Gal standing with a rope hanging off the saddlehorn.

Jarrod jumped down and approached the hole which had opened up in the grassy meadow near the base of the hills, his hand taking hold of the rope and pulling it up to reveal the frayed section at the end. Nick cautiously crawled to the edge of the hole, taking his hat off and peering down, his eyes widening at the hand he saw holding onto a jutted out piece of the wall in the faint light a mere six inches above the rushing water.

“Heath!” screamed Nick, the rumbling of the water through the abandoned mine shaft overriding his voice. “HEATH! ANSWER ME! HEATH!”

“Mr. Heath, I’m cold.” whimpered Terrence, his teeth chattering uncontrollably as the warmth slowly left the body of the man holding him.

“Just hold on Terry. Keep your arms around my neck.” urged Heath struggling to form the words, biting back his curse of fear as he fought the rushing water, regaining his meager foothold under the torrent of slipperiness.

His body was numb and he was using his back to protect the boy from most of the cold water that was rushing down the tunnel. He wasn’t sure how long they’d been in the water, it felt like days and it took every bit of strength in his muscles to hang on. His shoulder screamed in agony and he was battered and bruised from the debris the underground stream occasionally sent into him.

He dearly wanted to move his fingers and take a firmer hold but knew it would be a death sentence for both of them. His voice was hoarse whether from the cold or the fear which choked him as his eyes fell onto the dark expanse of the tunnel waiting if he lost his hold.

The rope around his waist did nothing but become a line which reached out to the debris in the water, each tug on the line sent a surge of fear through him before he’d fill up with relief when the debris lost its hold on the end. The boy’s life lay in his arms and his strength. This small one would not lose out on a chance to become a man, he was depending on Heath and he couldn’t let him down.

“HEATH!”

The sound of his name took several minutes to register in his mind which was overtaxed with the darkness slowly overcoming them as the sun dipped closer to the horizon and his sluggishness due to the coldness of his being. The boy lifted his head and listened.

“HERE, WE’RE HERE!” shouted Terrance, concerned when the man holding him hadn’t answered the call of his name. Placing his cheek against Heath’s, the small boy stated through his fear. “Mr. Heath, you were right. Our prayers were answered, they found us. We’re gonna be okay.”

“Told ya’ never give up, Terry.” whispered Heath, the words increasingly difficult to get out of his head and past his lips. “Just a little more.”

It seemed like an eternity to the small boy til he saw the legs of someone coming into the tunnel from the hole he’d fallen into earlier after the pony had thrown him off. Clinging to the wall with a deathgrip, his cries for help were answered when the man who’d befriended him suddenly appeared above and called down to him. It’d taken the blond some time to backtrack the saddled pony to the hole.

Seeing the deadly precarious situation of Terry, Heath knew he didn’t have time to go for help and wrapped the rope on his saddle around his slim waist. Tying the end to the saddlehorn, he lowered himself over the edge of the hole, whistling to Gal to move forward when he needed more slack.

Terry’s tears on his cheeks were still flowing when Heath grabbed hold of the boy and held him with one arm. Shivering against the cold in the mine shaft flooded with water, Terry clung to his neck as Heath used his arms and legs to pull them up the side of the shaft. Friction and mother nature worked against the two making their way upwards, the rope seesawing across a sharp rock gave out and they were plunged into the water. Landing on his back, the blond grabbed frantically with his right arm and closed his fingers around a piece of the rock wall sticking outward.

He’d almost lost hold of the boy from the jarring of his body but he’d closed his left arm around the youngster and held him firmly to his chest. Flailing around with his boots which seemed to be slipping on ice instead of wet rock, he finally lodged the heel of his left boot into a small crevice of some kind. He searched for a hold for his right foot, but there was no crack, no crevice, no ledge of any kind for his right boot to hold onto.

The pounding on his back and the pain each time his left boot slipped, along with the screams of fear from Terry when his body moved down further into the water were only further exaggerated by his mind relieving the near death encounters in the Strawberry mine as a child.

Terry watched with apprehension and hope as the face of the man took place as he neared closer. The small boy was afraid the man was a trick his mind was playing on him. He hadn’t been as sure as Mr. Heath that someone would come. He’d tried so hard to keep good thoughts just like Mr. Heath told him.

Using his power to fight the water which was four feet deep and nearing the two holding onto each other, Nick pulled on the rope and was given more slack but only enough to keep him moving forward. He stayed near the wall, slipping more than once into the water, his boots unable to provide any traction in the foreign environment. Finally moving to the center of the tunnel, he cautiously made his way towards his brother til he was beside him. Nick’s breath caught in his throat at the pure terror in the blue eyes which were staring at the end of tunnel, the darkness beckoning the blond.

“Heath, look at me!” ordered Nick several times afraid to touch his unaware brother and startle him, afraid his precarious hold would be lost. He waited til the eyes moved slowly to his, the blond’s mouth moved but no words came out. “I’m gonna wrap my arms around you both and we’re gonna be pulled up, okay?”

Staring at Nick through eyes which were squinted in confusion, Heath struggled to make his mind understand what was being said, he could barely hear anything over the rushing of the water and the cotton in his head. Terry looked at Nick, his eyes wide with fright before turning his eyes down to Mr. Heath.

He saw the confusion in the man’s eyes and the lack of response, his small heart lurched in his chest as he compared his friend’s condition to his father’s before he died. Lifting his eyes upwards to send a prayer again, he saw the good sized branch heading their way and screamed.

“LOOK OUT!”

The warning scream in Heath’s ear startled the blond, his body jerked despite its numbness and his hand lost its hold. Reaching out with both hands, Nick grabbed onto the boy with his left and the blue sleeve on his brother with his right. The sudden added weight on the rope pulled the three men topside forward two feet, sending the three in the tunnel deeper into it by the increase in slack on the rope.

Holding the boy by the arm with his left hand, Nick’s right hand exploded in pain as the projectile smashed against it from the force driving onward then moving to strike the side of Heath’s head which had dropped into the wetness. The sleeve beneath his fingers ripped when Heath suddenly became dead weight in the water.

Chapter 53

He wasn’t sure how long it was while he stood there, the water swirling around him, the coldness soaking through his jeans and his eyes stared. The hazel eyes were unseeing of everything else around him except for the piece of blue chambray shirt he held in his right fist. His hand held the cloth, his eyes stared at the hand, not seeing the bruise and swelling caused by the violent collision with the fast moving debris.

His eyes only saw where once was the arm of his brother in his hand, only a small piece of water logged cloth remained. His hand which only seconds before held the destiny of his blond brother in it, now gripped the material and told of the loss of a future with his blond brother, the youngster who’d filled his large heart to capacity. His hand had him and his hand lost him.

Terry watched in horror as the thick branch struck the hand of Heath’s brother, the cry of pain was only further deepened when the sound of the sleeve ripping seemed to rise above all the other noises, it seemed to be the only sound which drowned out the sound of the rushing water. Where the blond man had been now was only water followed by the darkened piece of wood which rushed by.

The realization of losing the man who’d been the first to soothe the ache in his heart from the death of his father, shook the boy more than the temperature in the air, his screams of horror and loss echoed down the tunnels.

The screams could be heard topside and sent deep fear in the souls of the men standing above, the lifeline held in their hands. Calling out for Nick, it was several minutes before a tug on the rope had the men pulling hand over hand, an inch at a time, their muscles straining until the heads of the man and boy appeared from the hole.

Nick lifted Terry up and pushed him out of the place which could have very well been his final resting place also. Arms once powerful and muscular reached up, grabbing onto the dirt as his boots tried to find a hold to lift himself out of the hole, the limbs shaking from shock and the loss of strength accompanying it.

Waiting til Duke and John indicated they had a firm hold on the rope, Jarrod loosed his hold on the string of fiber and pulled Nick the rest of the way out of the hole by pulling on his belt, physically hauling his larger brother upward onto the safe grassy area. John quickly picked up the small boy and wrapped him in his coat, holding him in his arms, his eyes widening at the shock on the face of Nick Barkley and he knew. Duke sank to his knees by Timmons as his own body realized what happened.

Jarrod didn’t have to ask, he didn’t have to question and he pulled Nick into his arms, holding on with all his strength as their body trembled from the anguish in their hearts. Both men shaken to the foundation of their very beings. Their brother was gone, the little boy was safe but the man who was still a teenager was gone.

In the darkness of the evening, John and Duke took Terry to Stockton concerned over the child’s condition, leaving the brothers by the opening in the ground. Neither man wanting to face the horrific reality destiny had dealt them. No amount of wealth, no amount of power, no amount of social standing could erase the deep scar the day would forever embellish on their souls.

With hearts heavy, eyes filled with tears, the two brothers rode back to the ranch, knowing tomorrow would be a day not of rescue but of recovery. When they found the place where the underground tunnel emptied, they would find the body of their blond brother.

Entering the oak door of the mansion, the two worried women’s cries of anguish and grief could be heard outside the home which suddenly seemed empty and a void. The life the blond brought with him was gone, snuffed out like the wick of a candle and the skies above them filled with the darkest clouds of despair.

Chapter 54

The underground river of death was created when the Dalton Mining Company’s shoddy and unsafe work practices failed to use the strongest timber to shore up the sides of the intricate tunnels built by man. The dangerous conditions caused by greedy owners left many a ghost wandering and residing in their last resting place. The water running underground broke through the flimsy rock tunnels, easily seeking a new way to reach its destination.

The men in charge inexperienced and fumbling in their responsibilities when the mine was fully operational would have never conceived the effect they would have on the future, changing the destiny of a family with their untalented hands and hearts only full of lust for the almighty riches.

Nothing was felt as the human shape was pushed effortlessly down the tunnel containing the underground river. The water flowed in the darkness, it didn’t need eyes to see where it was going, it didn’t need legs or arms to push it away from the rock walls. It used the strength of the force inherent in itself to systematically cut the rock it glided over, to shape the channels it ran through.

The mine was a maze of tunnels connecting, meeting and separating. The start of the water was somewhere high in the mountains, a continual supply of cool liquid with no conscious thought of the dependency man had on it. It was an item with no thought, no morality and no ideals. It simply was a wetness which could give you life or take life away.

It didn’t actively seek to destroy, it didn’t seek to build. It just sought to run its course like most things in life.

It had a circle of life, much like man’s itself.

It had a beginning, a middle and an ending.

The ending for the underground stream in the Dalton mine was unknown to the men who pulled the two-legged creatures to safety before the sun had bedded down in the horizon. The end was unknown by any who resided in the town or even in the state.

Only the gods above and the water itself knew the end of the underground stream was a pool of cool, clear liquid. A pool which was the start of a river which seemed to appear right out of the mountain side.

It was a mystery which many traveler mused about as they sat by their fire drinking coffee made from the cool water. It was one of life’s mysteries which would probably never be solved in their lifetime and maybe not in the lifetime of their children.

If destiny warranted the secret to be found, it would be one day stumbled upon. It would one day be revealed and heralded as the find of the year or perhaps the century. If destiny warranted it, if destiny wanted to play out its hand in such a manner. Only destiny knew as it was destiny’s own hand which held the playing cards close to its chest.

Destiny would never reveal what was to happen until all the cards had been dealt.

The small fire jumping and popping weaved into the sounds of the early evening, the animals and birds not overly frightened by the sound but cautious. The clanging of metal on rock, the sound of an animal of a different nature sharing their woodlands sent the residents of the small area scurrying into their burrows, flying into their nests, keeping an eye towards the beckoning triangle of light, instincts were verging on overdrive in their small brains.

Sitting by the fire, the two legged animal cursed as the heated metal of the coffeepot seared his skin, his hand jerking backwards and up to his mouth. The fire reflected on the face, shadowy from the growth of whiskers, the eyes filled with anger before calming and he shook his hand. Taking a cloth from the ground, the man’s ears listened intently to the sounds of the night while he lifted the coffeepot and filled his cup, stopped suddenly.

Tilting his head slightly, he categorized in his mind the symphony of the night, quickly shifting through the sounds which belonged until he reached the one which didn’t belong. The foreign tone which did not belong in the well orchestrated symphony, the sound which threw off the rest of the chorus.

Quietly placing the coffeepot back on the flat rock, no sound was made as he placed his cup on the ground and stood, his hand taking his pistol out of its holster, the sliding motion only a whisper in the night which was suddenly filled with silence.

He tilted his head and became puzzled at the sound he heard, splashing and floundering on the water. Moving like the ghosts which inhabited the old mine, the man made his way to the sound, the moonlight sky becoming his lantern as his eyes adjusted to the change in light.

Squinting, he barely saw it on the shore, a man lying on his stomach with only his shoulders and head out of the water. Glancing upstream and down, he made his way over and nudged the body with the toe of his boot, no sound was heard and he stared at the body with indecision.

Glancing around again and coming to the conclusion it was only he and this body, the man put his gun back in the holster before bending over and grabbing the drenched shirt by the collar, uncaring dragging his prize back to the fire, through rocks, over scattered branches and dumping it unceremoniously by the ring of heat.

Bending down and turning the man over, the firelight danced across the face as it was exposed and the camper swore. He knew this man and he felt the neck of the unconscious man with two fingers, the weak pulse beat for him and he sat back on his haunches, his hand rubbing his chin as his mind worked.

A smile spread across his face and he nodded, satisfied with his thoughts before he rapidly broke camp. Taking a blanket he wrapped it around the injured man and lifted him as if he weighed no more than a sack of flour, the muscles rippled beneath his shirt as he effortlessly lifted the blond up into the saddle.

Climbing up behind the blond wrangler, Barrett held him in his arms and nudged his horse, riding off under the moonlight sky with the prize the hand of destiny had sent him.

Chapter 55

The room by his own would forever be Heath’s room whether he was there physically or not. Entering the bedroom after depositing his mother in her room and covering the weeping tiny lady with a quilt, Nick could feel the blond, see his eyes and hear his laughter. He could feel him deep within himself and this is how he knew, his little brother wouldn’t be forgotten by him, never in his lifetime.

It was the feeling of the blond’s spirit in the room which sent Nick to his knees, his arms wrapping himself as his body shook with the loss. It wasn’t fair, they’d only been given a short time with the man who was their father’s son. No longer did they feel complete, the teenager who had been the final link in their circle of family was gone, tragically ripped out of their chain and thrust away.

The youngster who had so much to give had given his life at the moment of ultimate sacrifice, at the moment when a person’s true courage is tested and his bravado is heralded or his cowardice sneered upon. His little brother proved with his final act the type of person he was, the type of man they should all mold their lives after.

His heart screamed in agony, the noise of his grief only heard in the room where his brother had slept, dreamed and made his way through nightmares. As a big brother, he’d failed miserably. He’d failed to keep Stockton from being another hell on earth for the blond wrangler, his little brother, Heath Thomson.

The sheer terror in the blue eyes as they stared into the darkness of the mine would never be erased from his mind. The mine for whatever reason had sent horror through his little brother as he struggled to save the life of another. He’d experienced hell again before the same hell claimed his life and took his soul.

His hand, bruised from his last moment with the boy who’d enhanced his soul, had lost him. His hand lost its hold and now, he was gone. Never to return, never to touch their lives. His hand had failed him and the urge to self-mutilate the limb which allowed this darkness to enter their lives overwhelmed the strong man as his tears fell and his body shook from his anguish.

The screams of anguish, the sounds of grief which rang through the mansion were now nonexistent, the lower level of the grand house was deathly silent. No lantern wicks were lit, the only light came from the fireplace where the flames caressed the wood, the small amount of brightness spilling out and showing the haggard, haunted man sitting on the table.

A crystal tumbler held between his two hands, his elbows resting on his knees, his body slumped forward from the events of the day. Inconsolable would be the word to describe his mother and sister, the two females of the family seemed to age before his very eyes with the news of their newest member’s death.

Tears once again formed and fell onto the smooth oak flooring as he sat unaware of the splashing of the salty water as it hit the hard surface beneath his boots. How he wanted to take hold of someone and blame them for his brother’s death. How he wanted someone to pay for the loss he felt.

But there was no one. There was no one to blame but the people in years past who dug the tunnel in the dirt. There was no one to blame for the destiny handed to him and his family.

Destiny handed Heath to their family and the hand of destiny had pulled him back.

His anger born from his loss flared again and his hand clenched, the crystal tumbler shattering in his fist, the droplets of blood mixing with the droplets of his tears on the wooden floor. The blood become translucent from its contact with the water. From where he’d stood watching his big brother, Nick rushed over and cursed at the deep cut on the hand when he forced open to examine the damaged palm.

Jarrod stared at the hand with the deep jagged laceration, his eyes dull and lifeless, his heart so full of emotional pain he couldn’t feel the physical pain as his little brother pulled a piece of crystal from the gash.

Pulling the older man to his feet, Nick led his numbed brother into the kitchen and to the sink. The rancher’s large fingers shook as he cleaned the cut and carefully scrutinized the cut to make sure no piece of glass lay hidden. Taking a towel, he wrapped it tightly around Jarrod’s hand before seating him in a chair at the table.

Getting the necessary medical supplies, he shook his head at Silas’ request to help. The older man of ebony’s eyes were red with his own grief and despair. The blond and the white haired gentleman had made an unusual pair of friends but friends they were. Early mornings spent in this very kitchen where the topic of conversation was often varied and diversified.

Shaking his head to bring himself back to the present, Nick patted Silas on the back tenderly, his own hazel eyes bloodshot from his deep body-wracking cries in the room where Heath would no longer sleep.

Jarrod flinched as the wound was cleaned and wrapped. His eyelids closed, the evidence of his grief lingered on the dark lashes which covered his blue eyes. Nick tied the bandage in place and took in a shaky breath, his trembling hands picking up the bloody towel and taking it to the sink.

His legs suddenly were weak and his stomach full of nausea. Holding onto the metal basin, his body shook uncontrollably and he felt a hand on the back of his neck, pulling his head to his brother’s shoulder.

Nick gave in and let himself feel like the small boy who could count on his big brother to help make all the hurts go away with a simple embrace. He held onto his big brother, whimpering against his shoulder as the older man rubbed his back.

The back door of the kitchen burst open, the only light in the large mansion had shown the man the way, had beckoned the foreman to where his bosses were. The sound of the foreman’s voice reached upwards to the tallest rafters of the grand house, echoed through the floors and into each corner.

Duke shouted, “Heath’s alive! He’s at Dr. Merar’s!”

Chapter 56

Destiny allowed the family to taste the sweet exquisite morsel called hope.

Hope made the horses gallop faster. Hope made the distance to the office where the blond lay shorter. Hope was the glue which put their shattered hearts back together. Hope was riding with each of the family members under the midnight sky.

Hope was all they needed to focus on. For as long as Heath was breathing, they would use their hope to keep him with them on this realm. Hope was their friend and not their enemy.

The family made excellent time in reaching the office of Dr. Merar after Duke’s frantic ride to the ranch. The foreman had been shocked when the blond was delivered to the physician’s office by Jack Barrett, the former hand. The foreman quickly explained the condition of the blond as he knew it to his bosses before he’d rushed out and saddled four more horses with the help of Ciego. No surrey would be taken tonight as the family needed to get to the town by the quickest means.

The exultation of the news, the exhilaration of knowing their missing member was alive was quickly tempered at the entrance into the examination room. Howard Merar took a hot water bottle from his nurse and placed it under the arm pit of the blond, his body unclothed except for a towel covering his groin area.

The family gasped at the deep bruising over the slim muscled body, his white skin mottled with patches of black and blue, his left ankle lay at an awkward angle, a fracture could be the only reason. His hair was no longer blond but changed to a reddish brown from dirt and blood. His face was pale under the bruising and even his lips were void of color, almost as if he’d been found in a frozen tundra instead of beside a stream.

Standing to the side, Nick held onto his mother while Jarrod wrapped his arm around his shaking sister. The normally calm physician’s frantic movements heightened the tension in the room tenfold as he placed the warm bottles around the unconscious blond.

The family jumped as one when suddenly the boy they loved deeply started shivering, the violent racking of his body making them gasp in concern and fear. Their eyes wide and tearful as the violence of the shivering moved the table beneath him and Howard gently held his patient in place on the bed. The episode ceased slowly and the physician placed several wool blankets over the injured man before instructing his nurse to warm some water.

Not wanting to leave his patient’s side for even a moment, Howard waved the family over and waited til they neared before meeting their eyes. Taking a shaky breath, he slowly let it out.

“How is he, Howard?” questioned Victoria as she clung to Nick’s arm with a white knuckled grip, her words low and weak from fear.

“He’s teetering on the edge Victoria.” admitted Howard softly. “Heath’s suffering from several things, however, the one I am most worried about at this moment is the hypothermia.”

“Hypo what?” whispered Audra, unable to comprehend this was the same young man who teased her last night about her upcoming date with the banker’s son. The same person whose fingers had tickled her sides til she thought she would collapse from laughter. The blond girl was thankful for her oldest brother’s strength for hers at left at the sight of Heath, the sight of the damage done to his body.

“Hypothermia, Audra. The core temperature of your body is normally 98.6 degrees. Heath’s body temperature was lowered when he was trapped in the water protecting Terry. Unfortunately, water is a culprit which conducts heat away from the body faster than air and therefore when you are in cold water, hypothermia sets in faster than if you were stuck out in a snow storm.” explained Howard before glancing down at his patient.

“I estimate Heath’s body temperature to be below eighty two degrees which is the severest form of hypothermia.”

Holding onto Audra tighter, Jarrod’s throat was constricted as he choked out, “What if it gets lower?”

Meeting the tortured blue eyes of the first born, Howard replied, “He will die, Jarrod. I’m sorry.”

“Howard can’t we put him in some warm water?” questioned the matriarch of the family, having moved out of her son’s arms to run her hand over the top of her blond son’s head. “He’s so cold. Wouldn’t that help get his body temperature up faster?”

“Victoria, it would finish him off. We need to warm his body gradually which is why I put hot water bottles at certain major arteries before we covered him with these wool blankets. The extreme of a sudden warmth against his body would be the worst thing for Heath right now.” informed Howard quietly. “If we can’t raise his body temperature..”

“We will raise his body temperature, Howard. We’ll do whatever we have to.” stated Victoria firmly. “What about his other injuries? He’s lost quite a bit of blood from the look of his hair and what about his ankle? Shouldn’t it be splinted?”

“We can take care of those other things once we have taken care of the hypothermia.” acknowledged the healer. “It’s going to be a long fight and if…no…when Heath does survive the hypothermia…only then will we know what damage has been done to his lungs.”

“What do you mean his lungs?” grilled Nick from his place at the head of the bed. “God, it doesn’t even look like he’s breathing now!”

“I know, Nick. Trust me, Heath is breathing but in a much slower, shallower, erratic method. He’s a fighter. There’s not many who’d still be alive at this point and he’ll need that scrapper attitude for what lies ahead.”

“What exactly are you saying, Howard?” asked Victoria firmly, meeting the eyes of her old friend. “What are you thinking?”

Meeting each of the family members’ eyes, the physician wiped a hand across his face and sighed loudly. “Heath has ingested a lot of water and lord only knows what was in it. If he doesn’t develop pneumonia from taking in so much water it’ll be a miracle and the head wound concerns me. Until he is coherent and able to talk, we won’t know the extent of the injury.”

Each member of his family, each person who’d watched the youngster struggle since his arrival in Stockton knew the fight which lay in the blond. They knew he’d been battling since the time he’d been born and Jarrod caught Nick’s eye, his fear enough for the dark haired rancher to see. Both men remembered the admission of exhaustion from fighting the past years and both men stepped to the bed as one moving on either side and each whispering in an ear of the blond. Whispered assurances of their support, of their stance by him in battle, of the love they had for this young man were spoken with deep voices broken with their emotion.

The surreal calm which entered the room while everyone witnessed the depths of the two brothers’ devotion to their newest sibling was cut by another episode of uncontrollable, bone shaking trembling. Howard pulled Jarrod to the side, his large hands gentle and firm on his patient’s shoulders until the episode ceased.

“Howard?” whispered Victoria standing by the bed, one hand holding Audra’s and the other placed on the wool blankets above where the blond’s leg would be.

“I know its difficult to see Heath go through such violent shivering, Victoria but it’s a good sign. It means his body is still fighting against the lowering of his core temperature. It’s fighting on its own the only way it knows how.” informed the physician turning and requesting new warm water bottles from his nurse.

“Why don’t you go into the kitchen or waiting room? There’s a new pot of coffee on or you may be able to rest in the waiting room. It’s going to be a long night.” stated Howard quietly, not surprised at the denials in each of their eyes. “Please, Heath will need your strength later on and you can’t give it if you are running on no sleep.”

“You’re right, Howard, but I don’t want Heath to feel he’s alone in this darkness.” replied Victoria firmly. “We will take turns but one of us must be with him each second. He’s been alone far too much in the past and it’s not happening this time.”

Nodding, Howard smiled and reached over squeezing the hand of his old friend before she turned and gave each of her remaining children a kiss, sending them to the kitchen and waiting room. Jarrod lead Audra to the kitchen for coffee, the girl’s tears falling unnoticed as she clung to her older brother. Nick entered the waiting room and took a stance at the window, looking out at the darkness of the night, hoping his little brother heard his words.

“Duke, I’ll need you to run the ranch for me, take care of things.” sighed Nick turning to look at the older man. “I don’t know for how long.”

“Sure, Nick, don’t worry about a thing. You concentrate of getting Heath healthy and back to us.” said Duke before asking. “What do you wanna do about Barrett since he’s the one found Heath?”

Wiping his hands over his eyes, Nick let out a shaky breath and rubbed the back of his neck while thinking.

“Hire him back if he’s unemployed. If he doesn’t need a job, I’ll talk to Jarrod and Mother about a reward or something like that.”

Duke squeezed a shoulder of the taller man and stated firmly, “Heath’s gonna be fine, Nick. He’s been given another chance by destiny. Another chance to finally trust what’s in his heart when it comes to you and your family. Another chance for the upcoming years to be the happiest and brightest of his life. He’ll be fine, Nick cause he’s stubborn like his old man and his brothers. Stubborn with a heart of pure gold.”

Chapter 57

It was the child’s voice screaming out, locked in a nightmare which caused the two women in the family to flee. The screams of anguish reaching into the maternal sense housed in each female and urged them to confront the small child in the next room. Terry’s screams resonated through the doctor’s office and Nick let out a guilt ridden sigh, glancing over to Jarrod who also shared the same feeling of relief when their mother and sister left the room where Heath lay.

The hours passed quickly, their time eroded away with the care of their blond brother. For the third time this past hour Nick was holding his injured unaware brother over the bed while the drenched sheets were replaced with dry ones. With the rise of body temperature and the forcing of warm sugar water into the blond’s mouth, his pores were seeping with moisture almost as if his body were forcing the effects of hypothermia out through the pores of his skin.

The first time one of his older brothers lifted Heath forward, the gasps from the female members of their family at the sight of the scarring on the injured blond’s back startled the two brothers. Their lack of surprise at the scars which spoke of past cruelties and viciousness sent a surge of anger into their mother’s gray eyes.

Neither Jarrod or Nick was sure of the exact reason for the anger. Was it anger because her sons failed to reveal to her the horrific signs of past abuses on his body or was it a deep wound inside due to the pain Heath had suffered to receive those scars?

‘Both’ thought Nick to himself as he held the slim blond in his arms and laid his cheek against the head now stitched and bandaged. Laying his little brother back onto the dry sheets, Nick kept his eyes away from where the skilled physician who was helping his unaware brother expel the contents of his bladder.

Looking at each other, the two older men knew how ashamed and embarrassed the extremely self conscious teenager would be if he realized the exercise was needed to further warm his body. The liquid in the internal organ would steal away his precious body heat to keep it’s contents warm. As the physician informed them earlier, an empty bladder in the end will conserve the heat regained in his body, thus increasing the temperature of his inner core.

Finishing the expulsion of the bladder of his patient, Howard listened to the bruised chest with his stethoscope and shook his head. Recovering the blond in the wool blankets, he took a shaky breath and instructed his nurse to bring more pillows.

Lifting Heath as instructed, Jarrod carefully set him back against the pillows which elevated their brother up by several degrees.

“His lungs are becoming congested.” said Howard at the questioning looks on the exhausted faces.

“Pneumonia?” asked Nick, the tremor in his voice matching the tremor in his hand as he stroked the cheek of his little brother, the skin warmer to his touch and his lost color slowly returning with the increase of his core temperature.

“Not yet, Nick.” stated Howard with a frown. “If we keep him elevated it will help with the fluid in his lungs and assist in his breathing. If we keep pushing fluids into Heath we may be able to head the infection off before it takes hold.”

Keeping a hand on the blanketed shoulder, Jarrod swallowed the lump in his throat and whispered, “He’s so weak, Dr. Merar. If the infection takes hold, how’s he gonna fight it? He hasn’t even woken up yet or finished this battle. How the hell is he supposed to turn around and fight another one?”

Closing his eyes against the tears which seemed to hover there the past twenty four hours, Jarrod wiped a hand across his face and inhaled a shaky breath after the old family friend placed a comforting hand on his back.

“He’ll fight cause he’s not a quitter, Jarrod. Don’t give up on him, he needs you and your positive thoughts. There’s no scientific proof but I believe patients can sense or hear all which goes around them. Even in a state of unconsciousness.” informed the older man.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” sighed Jarrod with a nod. “Our brother is a fighter and I’m not giving up on him.”

“Good.” smiled Howard looking at the two men who were struggling along with the blond teenager. “I only want Heath to feel positive energy, not despair and not fear. Just plain old ‘hurry up and get well cause this is a working ranch’ energy.”

Nick flashed a grin and shook his head at the chuckle from his older brother at the winking of the physician. The man alleviating the darkness hovering around them for a moment and clearing their minds, allowing the two brothers a second to refocus on the positive instead of the negative.

Their brother survived after being ripped from his hold. He’d not been lost in the tunnel of the underground river but had reached an exit and found his way onto the shores of a stream which could very well have carried him further from them. He was still breathing after all these hours and regaining slowly what the water stole from his body. He was slowly changing from looking like a corpse back to looking like a young man.

He was here with them and he’d been delivered back by the hand of destiny.

Howard watched a transformation take place in the two men standing by the bed, it was if their thoughts were one as they focused on the youngster depending on their strength. Nodding to each other, the physician suddenly felt as if they could transfer their power to the blond with their gentle touches. After all these years as the town’s physician, it amazed him at the need for this family to have a physical connection when one of them was hurt or sick.

The soft touches, the whispered words, the one-sided conversations with the injured or sick just a part of them, a part of their makeup as a family. Smiling to himself, as each of the men touched their newest blond member once again, Howard knew it was this closeness, this bond which made the Barkley family stronger than most he’d ever seen. This family was able to gather strength and pull their chin up in the face of adversity because of the support given freely by each of them. Support born of love and not of expectations.

The man of healing was as stunned as the two brothers when a soft moan reached their ears in the quiet of the room.

Chapter 58

Leaning over the blond teenager, Howard heard the rustling of material, ignoring the sound as he studied the still pale face of his patient. The physician waited with his own breath held, his own chest barely moving and his eyes pierced with hope.

Victoria moved quickly to the bed where the men were all gathered around, their unspoken anxiousness flowing through the small room. Jarrod took his mother’s hand and bent to whisper in her ear.

“Heath moaned, Mother.”

Gray eyes filled with hope and she smiled at the wonderful news, squeezing the hand of her first born and moving to stand by the head of the bed, her fingers brushing through the blond hair sticking out from the bandage.

A minuscule movement beneath the eye lids was seen by the professional eyes and the older man reached up, laying his hand against the skin and smiling at the increased temperature he felt.

“Heath? Open your eyes.” commanded the man of medicine in a gentle, firm tone.

Several minutes passed as the increase in movement from the young man who’d been unable to even twitch the past hours raised their hearts into throats constricted with need. The need to see the blue eyes looking out at them from their hiding place. The need to hear the drawl in his voice and the shy smile he could conjure up.

The need turned to despair as the moans of pain filled the room, growing higher as the time passed and the assault on the slim wiry body let a single tear escape while his face contorted in anguish.

Howard could feel the family unconsciously gasp as their young member became more aware, his body reacting without his mind fully knowing at the pain the physician knew came with the increase of blood flow into his limbs. The rise in his core temperature the end result they were all seeking but the path his patient had to take was scattered with needles and pin pricks, throbbing and burning.

Victoria brushed her hand through the blond hair, her voice soothing and slightly quivering as she assured her newest son of their support, their love for him. Nick blinked back his tears at the depths of pain his little brother was suffering. The large hand of the rancher not leaving the shoulder of the blond whose head was moving on the pillow.

Jarrod was startled when Audra melded against him, holding on as she became another witness to the struggle, uncaring of the tears rolling down her cheeks and welcoming the arm which wrapped around her waist, uniting their strength against the display before them.

Over the course of the passed hours, the family physician had explained what Heath would experience once his core temperature rose to a certain degree, the pain would be great. However with one look at the traumatized faces of the Barkley family, he could see this was not even close to how they imagined the blond’s wakening.

“Heath, open your eyes.” commanded Howard louder, holding the boy’s rolling head in his hand. “Com’n, you can do it, Heath. Just let the pain wake you.”

He could hear the voice and knew what it was asking. He could sense the importance being placed on the order, yet, he fought against the rising. His body shook from the battle and he suddenly felt something familiar.

Something which gave him a focal point while he climbed further to the top of the dark wall. The further he struggled, the lighter the air was, the lighter the wood became until suddenly he burst through and he heard moaning.

His hands fumbled beneath the blanket, seeking the sheet he was lying on and enclosing the material in his fists while his back arched. His eyes blinked and his breathing increased rapidly, his look was confused and he gasped.

“Not..the..foot.”

Howard narrowed his eyes at the gasped words, wondering if he’d missed an injury other than the broken ankle on his previous examination.

“Heath, what’s the matter with your foot?”

Confused blue eyes shifted to the older man at his question and he tried to respond, his jaw clenched to try to capture the groans wanting to flee his body.

“Fuse..too..short..charges? Lost…my…foot.” hissed the blond, his forehead scrunching with the siege of hurt.

“No, Heath!” blurted Nick, clamping his hand onto the blond’s shoulder, hazel eyes suddenly filled with an understanding of why the looming darkness in the tunnel had sent terror through the younger man. “You weren’t in a mine working. Your ankle’s broken but it’s still attached to your foot!”

Everyone watched as the confusion in the eyes slowly moved out of his blue sky as they gazed at the dark haired man holding onto him, his whispered question barely heard from the weakness in his voice. “Nick?”

Smiling, Nick nodded and brushed the back of his fingers against the sweaty cheek, “That’s right, little brother.”

Closing his eyes against the return of the confusion, he shook his head slightly and fought to recall what’d occurred to warrant this extreme pain. Ignoring the voice of the man calling to him, the young boy who could barely remember his mama was thrown back years in his mind as he remembered the touch of his beloved mother. He felt the fingers brush through his hair and he opened his eyes, trying to look to the side and behind him.

“Mother?” asked the weak boy, the need in his words reaching into her heart and she moved down a bit, smiling into the pained eyes.

“I’m right here, Heath.” assured Victoria holding her hand against his face, her tears of happiness increased at the slight smile welcoming her before the eyes closed and he slumped against the pillows holding him in the elevated position.

Listening to the chest of his patient, Howard looked up and smiled widely. “His heartbeat is returning back to normal and his temperature is rising. Despite the pain, Heath is in, let me assure you this is all good.”

A collective sigh was heard around the room and shaky hands brushed the moisture away from their eyes as they looked upon the youngster who’d won his latest battle.

Once again, the hand of destiny had been in their favor and returned the blond to them.

Chapter 59

“But doc, how come I can’t remember?” asked the blond from his reclined position on the bed, blue eyes crossed in puzzlement.

Patting the boy’s shoulder, Howard smiled and assured the blond, “Don’t be upset about it, Heath. It’s perfectly normal due to your head injury. It may come back with time or it may not. It’s your subconscious's way of forgetting the trauma.”

Looking into the older man’s eyes, Heath sighed, “Don’t make no sense though, doc. There’s lots of things I wish I could forget and nev’r have.”

“Oh, like what?” asked the physician absently, unwrapping the bandage encompassing the blond’s head.

Smiling, Heath replied, “Like Nick singing when he’s in the bathtub loud as all get out.”

“Boy, you’d best not be telling the world of my talents!” protested the rancher loudly with a wide grin, his spurs announcing his arrival amid the laughter from the family physician.

“That’s talent?” asked Heath innocently, unable to keep the lop sided grin off his face after his brother sat on the side of the bed and flicked his ear with his fingers.

“I don’t know, Dr. Merar. Maybe you should keep him another week or two.” suggested Nick, rubbing his chin deep in thought. “I think he’s still concussed or he just likes to live dangerously.”

The blond smiled in response before sighing, “Not that doc here ain’t good company, Nick but two weeks is enough for me.”

“Me, too.” winked Howard at the dressed young man. “He’s all yours Nick. Just take it easy for another week and let me know if there’s any problems.”

Nodding, Nick shook the physician’s hand, grateful to be able to bring the blond back to the family ranch under his own steam instead of in a pine box. Taking the crutches handed to him, Heath stood up and grinned.

“Did you bring Gal?” questioned the young man, excited to be leaving the small room which’d been his home during his recovery period. The first week remembered with only snatches of stolen moments between hibernating and dreaming the same repetitive nightmare.

“No, little brother!” snorted Nick holding the door for the blond and waiting til he passed through, stopping on the porch at the sight of the surrey hitched to the rail. “No riding for another week, doc’s orders.”

“I’m okay, Nick.” assured Heath, his blue eyes pleading in protest. “I can ride, honest!”

Holding the blond by the back of the neck, Nick smiled, “I’m sure you could but this is mother’s orders. Even I’m not fool enough to go against her wishes.”

Rolling his eyes, Heath sighed in protest before gingerly making his way down the two steps with his brother by his side, climbing up and settling his casted foot up on the front of the wooden vehicle. Nick placed the crutches and bag in the back seat before taking his place and picking up the reins. Heath waved to the physician who appeared on the steps as they drove down the road, his excitement at returning home bouncing off him.

Nick smirked at the excitement showing in the blue eyes and in the way the teenager fidgeted on the bench seat. The last week hard on the active youngster who wanted to be outside and in the sun, anywhere but stuck indoors in the summer time.

“Still can’t remember?” asked Nick glancing sideways.

“Nope.” said Heath taking in a deep breath. “I remember leaving Jarrod’s office but that’s all.”

Shrugging, the dark haired man reached over and patted the upraised leg next to his. “I wouldn’t worry about it, Heath. Like the doc said, that’s normal for some injuries.”

“Yeah, I know but something tells me its important I remember.” scowled the blond, his face showing only hints of the prior bruising, his body mending and the pained parts slowly receding. “I can’t shake that feeling, Nick.”

“What kind of feeling?”

“The kind that makes your hair stand up on your neck.” whispered Heath, his eyes looking into the distance, searching his mind for the memories he could feel lingering on the edges. “Sometimes I think I’m gonna remember and then it’s gone.”

“Maybe you’re trying too hard, little brother.” suggested Nick stopping the surrey and holding onto the slender shoulder. “If you relax and don’t get all worked up about it, I’m sure it’ll come back to you.”

Pushing his hat up onto his forehead, the teenager frowned, “You think so?”

“Who’s older and wiser here?” questioned Nick in a pained voice.

“Well, you’re older that’s fer sure.” drawled the blond with a nod of agreement, laughing as the older man pulled him over with a growl and tickled his sides.

“Hey, I’m still recoverin’!” exclaimed Heath, laughing uncontrollably before the bigger man let him go and he gasped to regain his air.

“You’re lucky, boy. Otherwise, you’d have to walk home.” grinned Nick, enjoying the moment with the teenager, glad he was assigned to bring the younger man home.

Heath picked up his hat from where it’d fallen and smirked, “Well, ya’ sure drive like an old man.”

The challenge flared in the hazel eyes at the teenager beside him and Nick smiled evilly, slapping the reins and letting out a yell, surging the horse in its harness and the surrey jolted forward, the dust behind it could be seen for a mile and the laughter of the two brothers rang out over the pounding hooves.

Chapter 60

Pulling up in front of the barn, the cloud of dust swirled around the two returning brothers. Coughing at the particles invading the intake of breaths, Heath sputtered before lowering himself off the surrey and waving to Ciego, “Maybe ya’ ain’t so old after all.”

“Gee thanks.” replied Nick sarcastically jumping down and thanking Ciego as he took charge of the surrey, seeing his mobile brother several yards away, heading to the furthermost corral. “Hey, wait up!”

“Hurry up, Nick. Ya’ got two legs!” shouted the teenager not slowing his hobbling til he reached the outside of the corral and pulled himself up to the second rail, greeting Charger who gladly nuzzled the returning man.

Shaking his head, Nick sighed and took his place beside the blond, reaching out to pat the strong neck of the equine, “He missed you, little brother.”

“He’s a fine specimen.” smiled Heath, running his hand down the long nose. “Did you ride him while I was at docs?”

“Well, that’s what I’ve been meaning to talk to you about, Heath.” stated Nick seriously, his frown turning the younger man towards him.

“He’s not injured, Nick. He’s trained now.” informed Heath puzzled. “How come ya’ ain’t rode him? He’ll make a fine cutting horse cause he’s smart. Probably the smartest horse I’ve come across.”

“That’s the problem.” admitted Nick with a deep sigh.

“He’s too smart?” repeated the teenager wrangler with confusion. “That’s a problem?”

“Yep.” replied Nick with a shrug. “He wouldn’t let anyone else ride him. Charger’s a smart horse. He’s smart enough to know who he wants to spend his days working with. You.”

“Nick, all ya’ gotta do is spend time with him and not bellow.” protested Heath. “Then he’ll let ya’ ride him. If ya’ stop scaring him…”

“HEY! I DON’T BELLOW.” retorted Nick loudly, his voice carrying across the yard.

“Whatever you say, Nick!” yelled Jarrod as he crossed towards the corral.

Turning crimson at the shouted reply and the soft snickering from the younger man beside him, Nick snorted and rolled his eyes. Waiting for the oldest to approach, he turned back to the blond who was immersed in his conversation with the stallion.

“Heath, I been trying to tell you..Charger’s yours!” said Nick, his grin growing wider as the words sunk into the blond’s stunned mind and his mouth dropped open more.

“But, Nick!” stammered the youngster. “I can’t take him.”

“I didn’t ask if you wanted him, I gave him to you.” smirked Nick with a clap on the teenager’s back and a wink at the first son. “It’s a welcome home present.”

Jarrod smiled at the wide eyed look of appreciation and disbelief on the younger man, the inner innocence of the small boy who’d been through so much still intact and reflecting through in his eyes. The boy turned young man who’d missed so much happiness in his life was speechless and unable to respond.

Turning his face away from the two older men, Heath couldn’t put into words how much the gesture filled his soul and heart, he couldn’t describe the emotions threatening to soar him as high as the heavens. He could only nod and shake his head in wonderment of the gift, his hands gripped the railing of the fence tightly for his leg he was sure would give out from the feelings assaulting his body.

Putting his arm over the quivering shoulders, Nick squeezed the smaller body into his side and whispered. “You two are perfect for each other. You understand each other so well. That’s why he’s yours.”

“Nick.” whispered the blond, his voice ragged from choked emotions.

Standing on the other side of Heath, Jarrod nudged the youngest with his elbow and whispered loudly, “That and the fact Charger bucked him off when he tried to ride him, Heath.”

“HE DID NOT!” exclaimed Nick with a bellow. “THE CINCH BROKE, JARROD!”

Laughing at the loud protest, Jarrod winked into the light blue eyes and shook his head negatively as the middle brother continued defending his lack of riding the stallion. Heath chuckled softly and sighed, his hands running over the velvet nose which nuzzled his shoulder.

“Charger, I hope you didn’t hurt him.” whispered Heath flashing a grin to the man on his left who shook his head and growled.

“Com’n boy, you got plenty of time to get reacquainted with that walking glue advertisement later.”

Stomping his hoof and snorting, the horse bared his teeth to the growled words in response causing the youngest and oldest to burst out in laughter when their dark haired middle brother jumped off the rail. Standing outside the corral, Nick pointed at the red stallion.

“Just try it and we’ll see who gets the last word!”

Shaking his head and whinnying, the four legged animal nuzzled his young friend once more before calmly walking towards the water trough. Nick shook his head and scowled waiting for his brothers before they started across the ranch yard.

“Thanks, Nick.” smiled Heath, blue eyes sparkling under the afternoon sun as he hobbled between the two older men. “I’m sure he likes ya’.”

“Must be a love/hate relationship.” offered Jarrod with a snicker holding the door open to the mansion.

“Shut up, Pappy.” stated Nick firmly, winking at his elder as the younger hobbled into the entry.

“SURPRISE!!!”

Stopping in the foyer, Heath stood riveted on his crutches and turning crimson at the people in the expansive entryway. Victoria and Audra rushed over, placing kisses on his cheeks and hugging their embarrassed family member.

“It’s good to have you home, Heath.” smiled Victoria, placing her small hand on his red cheek.

“Thank you, Mother.” replied Heath hesitantly. “Is it Nick or Jarrod’s birthday?”

“No, silly.” giggled Audra. “This is a welcome home party for you.”

“Me?” stated Heath incredulously glancing around at the family before the others made their way towards him. Standing in the foyer, Victoria brushed the tears from her eyes as the guests greeted the blond, expressing their appreciation for his act of heroism, his act of unselfishness which could have stolen him away.

“Mr. Heath!” exclaimed a small voice, the excitement ringing through the foyer as the small child flung himself towards the blond man. Grabbing onto the small body with one hand, Heath’s smile shone as bright as the gold never found in the Dalton mine.

“Terry, boy howdy, ya’ look all better!” stated the blond, patting the youngster’s back and smiling down at him. “How ya’ feeling?”

“I’m better, Mr. Heath.” acknowledged Terry, his eyes forming with tears. “Thank you for helping me. I was so afraid til you came.”

“Hey, it’s okay now.” assured Heath gently running his hand over the boy’s mop of hair. “Just promise me you’ll stay away from there.”

Nodding his head, Terry held out his hand, “Deal!”

The afternoon sped by quickly as all enjoyed the food and hospitality of the prominent family, the only people invited to attend the party were those who now accepted the blond teenager. Helen Frankle made her way to the guest of honor and lowered herself beside the chair where Heath sat with his foot propped up on a stool.

“Ms. Frankle, I hear ya’ got a new job.” stated the blond placing his cup on the table next to him.

The matronly woman nodded and smiled, “Yes, at the land office and I also drove my own buggy out here today, Mr. Thomson.”

“Really?” queried Heath with a surprised smile.

“People can change and learn all new kinds of things, no matter what age they are.” stated the older woman reaching over to pat his arm. “The next time there’s a dance, I’ll save a space on my dance card for you. You are a special young man and we’re lucky to have you in our town.”

“Why, thank ya’, Ms. Frankle.” blushed Heath after the older woman patted his head on her way past.

“Secret admirer?” whispered Nick suddenly appearing out of nowhere. “Think she may be a tad too old for you, little brother.”

“Nick!” hissed Heath, his face turning redder. “Cut it out! Next time, I hope Charger bites ya’!”

Laughing at the embarrassed blond, Nick tousled his hair and made his way around the room, the afternoon turning to evening and the guests departing. Grateful for the returning quiet of the evening, Heath stood outside the corral under the full moonlight watching the stallion playing in the cool air.

The sound of the hands returning, their loud voices singing off key drew his eyes towards the bunkhouses. The Saturday night ritual a familiar ending to a long week for the hard working, dedicated men. The ranch yard was encased with the glow from the white circle in the sky and he could easily recognize the individuals in the group of returning men.

Tilting his head, he wondered for a moment as his stomach lurched into his throat and the hair on the back of his neck stood out at the laughter which rang out from one of the group. His hand gripped the rail and he stood riveted as he fought to bring the memory forth in his mind, his breath almost nonexistent as his mind was focused, trying to pinpoint the cause of his sudden trembling.

Suddenly, the loud voice of Barrett, the rehired hand who saved him from the river, sent goosebumps up his arms and shivered his spine, leaving the teenager with questions when sudden terror gripped the heart in his chest.

Chapter 61

It was Nick who sensed an undercurrent of emotion in the blond, an undercurrent within the young man who was confined to duties around the home base of the ranch by his broken ankle. The blue eyes seemed often to be staring into nothingness, his mind not in the area, his attention held by some unseen force.

Standing by the barn and talking to Duke, Nick watched the youngster come out onto the porch, his attention drawn to the returning group of men who dismounted and took care of their horses. Nodding to the foreman, Nick watched the blond take tobacco makings from his vest and a scowl moved across the tanned face.

“Nick, something wrong?” asked the foreman, the only person to see the scowl, his mind searching the conversation he’d been having with his boss and not coming up with a reason for the expression. “Nick?”

“Huh?” stated Nick startled from his scrutiny and turning his eyes to the older man. “Sorry, Duke what was that?”

“You look like you just drank some bad whiskey, Nick.” said Duke calmly. “I hope you don’t have that expression on your face when you talk to the buyers tomorrow.”

Smirking, Nick shook his head and sighed deeply, “Duke, have you noticed anything..uh..strange lately about, well, Heath?”

“Strange? No, can’t say I have.” replied Duke curiously before adding, “Wait, he has been quiet.”

“That’s not much help, Duke he’s a quiet person.” muttered Nick watching his brother watch the group of men to his right.

“Yeah, but he’s been even more quiet if that’s possible.” explained Duke. “He’s acting like a cat on the prowl, watching, moving and waiting. He does his work and more than his share but I noticed he’s keeping his eyes on everything around him.”

“That must be what I’m seeing.” agreed Nick, tapping his gloves against his leg. “I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. You’re right.”

“And he’s smoking again.” suggested the older man. “He’s hardly smoked since he came back from his ranch with you and Jarrod. Now, its not unusual to see him wandering around at night. Couple times he damn near gave me a heart attack when I came up on him sudden like in the dark.”

Taking off his hat and running his hand through his hair, Nick smirked, “I saw the makings at his ranch but somehow I never thought of him using them. Course, now it makes sense when I think back because he was alone so who else would use tobacco and rolling papers.”

Nodding, Duke shrugged, “Nick, everyone has vices. Heath doesn’t drink except for coffee and even you like a good cigar.”

“I know.” sighed Nick trying to pinpoint exactly in his mind when his younger brother’s past vice took hold again. “I’d say it started bout two weeks ago, wouldn’t you?”

Studying the hazel eyes which were looking past his shoulder, Duke nodded, “Seems like.”

“After his homecoming party.” sighed Nick, not sure of what he was looking for with his train of thought. “It had to be after the party cause he was all grins while everyone was there.”

“I saw him later that night and he seemed fine.” informed Duke.

“Later after everyone left?” asked Nick scanning the crew filing past them to the bunkhouse, watching the men like the blond on the porch leaning on a cane instead of two crutches.

“Yeah, he was on his way to the corral to see Charger.” said Duke quietly.

Shaking his head, Nick growled, “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“Well, not to you maybe, Nick but have you asked Heath.” prodded the foreman, his voice lowered to match his boss.

“He’s locked up tighter than Jarrod’s imported scotch.” snorted Nick.

Chuckling, Duke clapped his boss on the shoulder and whispered, “If I can do anything, let me know.”

“Thanks, Duke.” smiled the dark haired rancher, the sincerity of appreciation reflected in his words.

Shifting on his feet, Nick watched the blond throw his cigarette into the bucket on the porch before hobbling across the yard towards him. Glancing around, Nick noticed all the men had disappeared to get cleaned up before the night’s meal.

“Hey, little brother.” said Nick, meeting the blond halfway. “What’d doc say today?”

“Two more weeks and then it comes off.” replied Heath walking beside the larger man. “Did ya’ hear from Jarrod?”

“The buyer’ll be in Stockton tomorrow. I’ll be glad to get those peaches out of here.” answered Nick following the blond into the house. “Everything okay, here?”

“Sure. I got some more work to do on the books before dinner.” said Heath clapping his dusty brother on the back and waving the dust away as he walked behind him. “You’d best get cleaned up.”

Watching the blond enter the study, Nick stared at the doorway to the room for several minutes before heading up the staircase to clean up. Letting the hot water soothe his aching body for a moment, he closed his eyes and let his mind wander over the past two weeks, searching for a clue towards the behavior of his newest sibling.

Sitting up suddenly, he realized each time he and the men returned to the ranch, Heath would be watching from a position not too close and not too far away. Often in plain view but almost hidden because he’d blend in with the surroundings. Gone was the blue shirt and instead the color tan would be all he donned. The tan color subdued and not an attention drawing color.

The furrow on his forehead deepened and he forced himself to concentrate further on the past weeks, trying to draw out any inkling hidden in the daily life on the ranch. He came up blank and smacked his hand on the side of the porcelain tub. He felt he was close to whatever was bothering the blond and he resolved himself to keeping a closer eye on the younger man, hoping he’d be able to get to the bottom of this mystery.

Several hours later, bolting upright in bed, Heath covered his sweaty face with his hands and swore softly. He hadn’t been able to go a night without the same dream, the same choking fear rising up within him. Each time it seemed the dream lasted longer and he thought perhaps the missing piece was there, just waiting for his mind to reveal it.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on.” stated the voice causing Heath to jump, his hand reaching for the gun hanging on the bedpost before stopping in midair when Nick with his dark clothing melding in the shadows of the room, leaned forward so the moonlight could reflect on his face.

“Don’t even think about trying to give me any crap excuse either.” warned Nick, his hazel eyes flashing as they stared into the light blue orbs.

Chapter 62

Letting his hand fall away from the gun, the blond moved to the opposite side of the bed, grabbing his shirt on the nearby chair, stuffing his arms into the sleeves before turning up the bedside lamp.

The darkness of the room was warmed with a glow before the younger man crossed his arms and glared at his dark haired brother. “I don’t like to be surprised like that, Nick. You know that! What are ya’ doing in here anyway?”

“Is one of the men bothering you?” suggested Nick standing and moving to the end of the bed, leaning against one of the oak posts with his right forearm.

Wiping the perspiration off his forehead with the tail of his shirt, the teenager shook his head and snorted, “You woke me up to ask me in the middle of the night?”

“You were having a bad dream. You woke yourself up.” said Nick, intently watching the younger man whose eyes clouded for a moment at the mention of the nightmare before the emotion passed by. “You want to talk about it?”

“NO!” hissed Heath before taking in a shaky breath and rubbing his neck then whispering quietly. “It’s late, Nick. Go to bed.”

“Heath, why won’t you just tell me what’s bothering you.” implored the older man firmly, not surprised at the stubborn clenching of the teenager’s jaw. “I know something is and I won’t leave til you tell me.”

“You can’t sneak in here, hide in the shadows and then threaten me when you don’t like my answer!” growled Heath, suddenly feeling as if his larger brother was taking up half the space in the room, the man’s determination almost pushing him over. “This is the second time you’ve done come into this room without my permission and I don’t like it.”

“I have every right, Heath.” retorted Nick, holding the bedpost with a firm grip and gesturing with his left hand. “You’re my brother and I won’t have anyone on our crew not treating you with respect as one of the bosses.”

“I’m not a child, Nick! I’ve been on my own for the past five, no almost six years!” snapped Heath, his voice raising along with his inner fury. “When I figure it out, I’ll deal with it!”

“Figure what out?” demanded Nick taking a step forward in his inquisition to find the key to the puzzle.

Old habits engrained from years of defensiveness, years of wariness kicking in from the unexpected confrontation, the unexpected grilling following close on the heels of the ever present disorienting dream causing the blond to step backward as his brother moved forward.

“None of your business! Now git out!” replied the blond, his eyes fast become filled with an animalistic cornered response as the area seemed to shrink before him.

“Dammit, you are so stubborn! I thought by now you’d know you can trust me to help with whatever you need.” spat out Nick angrily, hurt by the lack of trust and faith the younger man had in him.

Stepping forward again, Nick stopped suddenly when he saw a flash of panic spear the blue eyes and he consciously stepped backward creating more space when his mind sent him a warning not to appear to be cornering the teenager whose one greatest fear was of being trapped, being encaged, mentally or physically.

Letting the raised emotions in the room settle for a few minutes, Nick took a deep breath and stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his pose one of relaxation, his voice calm and soothing.

“Heath, what happened after you came home from doc’s? I know something did cause you’ve been different.” stated the older man quietly, moving to stand against the dresser further giving more of the room back to the blond, giving him more breathing room.

Taking a shaky breath, the younger man physically relaxed although he didn’t move from his spot, keeping the open area between him and the brother across the room. Tilting his head, the eyes staring into the hazel eyes slowly became dazed and were no longer in the present but cast back years.

“I can’t tell ya’ what I don’t know, Nick.” sighed the blond, his eyes closing. “It’s not somethin’ ya’ can see.”

“Just tell me what you can.” suggested Nick softly, almost pleading. “Please, little brother.”

Several minutes passed before his little brother shivered as if a great Northern Wind blew through his soul and he lowered himself to sit against the wall, elbows on his bent knees, his hands holding his head. Lowering himself to the floor where he stood, Nick knelt on his knees and kept his gaze on the teenager who was trembling not from the temperature in the room but from the remembrances in his mind. The remembrances of years past. Those past years found Nick often wondering if Heath would ever be free of them. Would they be lessened with time? Would they be lessened by his family?

“I can’t see it but I feel it.” stated Heath quietly, releasing his head and leaning it against the wall, his eyes studying the ring of light on the ceiling from the lamp. “Remember at my ranch, ya’ wanted to know how I knew…he…was close by?”

“I remember, you said you could feel his evil.” whispered Nick in a hushed voice afraid of breaking the serene calm of the room. “And you were right.”

“When I was little, they sent me to work in the mine. Said I needed to be a charge boy to earn my keep, pay for the food I ate and the…that...place…that…room. I was small and could shimmy into places where men couldn’t. Twice I had a feelin’ and ran from where I was planting the charges. Two times the cave-ins took the lives of men but that feelin’ spared me. I tried to tell the foremen but he wouldn’t listen to a kid. Two times I escaped death in the Strawberry mine.” sighed Heath, his voice even and low, almost monotone as if he were reading the words off a page in a book and not reliving the experiences destiny held in store for him over the past years.

Fists clenched against the plaid sleeping pants of the blond, his eyes closed and he swallowed against the nausea rising up in him.

“I’d be sound asleep and wake cause I’d feel him…or her nearby. I’d lay still and hope they was just passin’ in the hallway. I’d feel like I was chokin’, waitin’ to hear the steps move away…sometimes they did.”

Nick fought the urge to move across the room at the paleness appearing on the blond’s face as he struggled against the tidal waves of memories. How he wanted to strike out, lash out at those who caused his brother such torment. He wanted to wrap his hands around their necks, subject them to the same terror. How he had to struggle with himself internally to calm down and stay focused on the boy in the room.

“Major Binginton said it was my inner voice, a premonition of some sorts, a survival instinct. It’s that shiver ya’ get when the hair on your neck rises. Ya’ can feel it when ya’re in a room alone but ya’ feel someone else there, whisperin’ in your ear. It sends the bumps up your arm.”

Looking into the hazel eyes across the room, Heath frowned, “Ya’ can’t see it, not with your eyes. Ya’ can’t hold it with your hands. I know it’s something but I just can’t remember. It’s locked in my head but I can’t get it out.”

“You feel it now?” asked Nick, receiving a slight nod from the blond head. “When? When does it happen, Heath?”

Taking a shaky breath, blue eyes met hazel eyes and he sighed, “When one of the men’s around.”

“Which man?” questioned Nick leaning forward on his knees. “Heath, just tell me who.”

“It’s Barrett.” admitted the blond after several minutes ticked by and the determined hazel eyes bored into his. “It don’t make sense, Nick. If he wanted to hurt me, he could’ve done it when he pulled me from the river. He coulda let me die stead of taking me to town.”

Thinking for a few minutes, Nick shook his head and sighed, “You’re right, he could have let you die but he didn’t. Maybe it’s from when you helped Mother when she fell off Misty and Barrett attacked you. You didn’t know him then and now having him around is sending up a red flag.”

“I don’t know, Nick.” replied Heath with a scowl. “It’s nev’r been wrong before.”

Standing, Nick walked over and held out his hand to the smaller man, pulling him to his feet and holding the back of the blond’s neck. “Well, between you, me and Duke we can all keep an eye on him. If you’re right, we at least won’t be blindsided like when he sucker punched you.”

“Barrett ain’t done nothing wrong since then, Nick.” worried the blond. “I could be wrong, ya’ know.”

“Don’t worry, Heath. We’ll just watch him like a trio of hawks.” assured Nick with a grin and a clap on the blond’s back. “Now, don’t you feel better little brother having woken me up to have this chat?”

“Nick!” exclaimed the teenager, rolling his eyes upwards and snorting. “Ya’ the one sneakin’ around and hiding in other people’s bedrooms. Like a peeping tom or something.”

“If I was a peeping tom, boy, I certainly wouldn’t be lookin’ in your window!” growled Nick wrapping an arm across the blond’s shoulder and propelling him to the bed. “Com’n you need your beauty sleep.”

Chapter 63

Gasping for air and holding his sweat drenched head in his hands, Heath sat on the edge of the bed trying to gain control.

The days of the last three weeks were spent working while keeping one eye on the hand who sent shivers up his spine crawled by, the hands on the unseen clock barely moving as he was mired down by waiting. His boots stuck into the ground as the world spun around him under the light of the day.

The waiting during the days of the past weeks went by painstakingly slow but the nights trapped within his nightmarish slumber were torture. Torture of the worse kind, torture you couldn’t prevent unless you forced your lids to stay open and sleep to not grace your body.

Torture no other person could help you through, they couldn’t be in your mind, they couldn’t see what your mind was capable of conjuring up. They couldn’t understand unless they’d walked the same path in your boots, unless they’d experienced the same things at the same time as if they were an extension of your very being.

The unfinished nightmare he’d been having gave way to past dreams of haunting and past familiar night terrors, only this time they returned with a veracity unlike before.

The nineteen year old found his sleep lacking, found himself experiencing the old fear of closing his eyes at night, afraid of the old demonic scenes his mind would play out. In a strange way, he wondered why he was afraid of them, they were familiar like an old acquaintance and yet, were still capable of sending him to cower in a corner until he came out of his state of self-inflicted terror.

He found himself the past weeks fighting against the anger rising up with his lack of control. The control loss slowly occurring by his lack of security, his lack of being able to handle the night terrors, his sudden desire to taste a hair of the dog. No, he wouldn’t go back in time, he couldn’t go back to that darkness. He couldn’t cause those around him such pain at his rising weakness.

Finally able to restore calm to his shaken being, he wiped the sweat off his face with his shirt sleeve and stepped over to look out at the night sky, estimating three hours til the colors of dawn would break over the horizon. Leaning against the window sill, he looked back at the bed with apprehension, needing rest to keep his energy reserves from depleting but unwilling to face what may happen if he closed his eyes.

Giving up the idea of sleeping any more, the teenager changed his clothes and belted on his gunbelt, making his way down the hallway to the grand staircase, sitting on the bottom step and pulling on the tan boots. Entering the kitchen he quietly made a cheese sandwich, eating the tasty morsel with a chaser of water before leaving the mansion by the back door.

Nick felt a hand shaking his shoulder and grumbled from the interruption of his dream, “What?”

“Mr. Nick.” whispered Silas, shaking the large Barkley son and raising his voice slightly. “Mr. Nick, wake up.”

“Silas?” mumbled Nick, rubbing his eye clear of sleep. “What’s wrong?”

“Mr. Heath left the house alone.” instructed the older man of ebony, his words bolting the middle son upright in his bed. “I’s saw him go out ta back.”

“Thanks, Silas.” replied Nick throwing back the covers and grabbing his clothes, quickly dressing after their family friend left the room. Belting his gunbelt on as he walked down the staircase, Nick couldn’t stop the feeling of anxiety rising up within him along with fury at the blond’s disregard of the family’s request to not leave the ranch unaccompanied.

The family watched while the young man among them struggled with his anger and with the results of sleepless nights. Heath’s grins were now few and far between, his temper barely reined in and they were at a loss as to how to overcome this latest hurdle. How to fight what his mind could dream, his mind using the past cards destiny dealt to torment his gentle soul. They wrapped their arms around him, offered their support but words couldn’t reach through the darkness of his mind.

The family saw no reason to perhaps provide one man an opportune time to extract revenge against one of their own and forced their will over the teenager’s. The family using their democratic decision making and believing their way was the best course out voted and override his own wishes. In the end, he’d grudgingly agreed to not leave the ranch unless someone traveled by his side, much to his chagrin and much to his own dismay. The family members were trying to change the destiny of the blond with their love.

Nick headed to the barn, his long strides quickly eating up the space of the ranchyard. Entering the building, he saw the lamp glow under the door of the tack room and followed the glow, opening the door and entering.

“What are you doing out here?” grilled Nick, the gruffness in his voice raising the hackles of the teenager who clamped down his jaws and threw the bridle he’d been mending onto the table and returning the look of anger.

“I’m working.” hissed Heath. “Kinda early for ya’, ain’t it?”

“You know you’re not supposed to leave alone.” snarled Nick. “What are you trying to do get yourself killed?”

“Dammit, Nick! I promised not to leave the ranch alone.” snapped the blond. “Unless it’s moved, this tackroom is on the ranch!”

Taking a deep breath, Nick shook his head and retorted, “Heath, this restriction is for your own good. I know it’s hard but…”

“Restriction? Is that what you call it?” snorted the teenager, surprised at the surge of rebellion rising within him, surprised at the quivering of his voice. “I call it a prison of family! I’m sick of walkin’ on eggshells! I’m sick of waitin’ for something that might not happen! I can’t take this much longer and I won’t.”

“You just have to force yourself to be patient, Heath til we can force his hand.” reassured Nick. “Til he tries to make his play. Be patient.”

“Be patient? How long? Days? Weeks? Months?” asked the teenager, his voice low and furious. “I’m reached the end of my patience. The patience I learned as a sniper. The patience I learned while I hung by my wrists in Carterson waiting til they were done whippin’ me like a dog. I’ve learned patience and survival over the years, Nick. I’m done letting this hang over everything I do. I’m done with waitin’ and I’m done with these damn restrictions.”

“Heath, please.” stated the soft female voice from outside the tackroom, both men surprised as the unknown spectator made herself known, the small form wrapped in her warm robe made her way past her middle son to the youngest.

Staring into the gray eyes of the woman he called Mother, Heath felt his stomach turn over from the fear he was responsible for. Her small hands on his forearms held on tightly, her voice low and pleading.

“Please, son, don’t take any chances. Please play it safe for me.”

Chapter 64

Nick glanced across the table at the younger man who was pushing his food around his plate, absently moving the eggs with his fork and not speaking, not participating. The relief he’d felt from earlier in the morning when the head of their family was able to extract another promise from her blond son vanished with the air hovering around the young man in the dawning of the day.

The air of restraint and despair flowed off the teenager like heat from a pot bellied stove. It was almost as if the last promise stole any fight from his body, took away the spirit inside of him, leaving an angry empty shell instead. Looking over at the others around the table, Nick saw similar concerns on their faces and worry in their eyes.

Audra had finally given up any attempts at brightening the atmosphere in the dining room, her need to bring light to all around her were shut out by the dark curtain hanging over her blond brother.

Heath wasn’t aware he was being scrutinized by the others at the table and in fact, he wasn’t aware of anything around him. His hand moved the silverware while his mind wandered in circles. He was only aware of the beat down feeling which took him by surprise after he’d allowed his new mother to lead him back to the house, back to the haven she wanted to keep him in.

The sudden rising of emotion, the stinging of tears he felt building behind his orbs and the overwhelming need to talk to his Aunt Rachel left his fingers tightening on the silver handle of his fork. She’d always been able to calm his fears from her understanding of what drove him, what nipped at his heels and how destiny forged his soul. His thoughts found him dropping his fork onto the china as the cold hard truth slapped him in the face. She was there no longer, his ally was no longer on this earth and he was left behind surrounded by those who loved him but weren’t able to understand the lost person inside his still growing body.

“Excuse me.” mumbled the blond, quickly leaving the room and his family behind at the quick departure.

Jarrod reached out and held onto Nick’s arm as he tried to follow. “He’s not going outside, Nick.”

“How do you know? Are you a mind reader?” snapped Nick angrily.

Shaking his head, Jarrod sighed and leaned his forearms on the table, “Because when he bolted past, I saw tears in Heath’s eyes. He’ll go to his room to collect himself. He’s as full of pride as the rest of us, Nick. He wouldn’t want anyone to think he was less than a man.”

Cursing under his breath, Nick held his head in his hands for a moment before rubbing his neck in frustration. “Mother, we’re destroying him.”

“Nick! We’d never do anything to harm Heath.” protested Audra in dismay, hurt by her brother’s accusation.

“Not on purpose but we’re doing it just the same by making him feel trapped, by making him feel he has no key for the cage we’re keeping him in!” retorted Nick, closing his eyes for a moment to regain his control and taking a deep breath before meeting the hurt blue eyes of his sister. “Sorry, Audra. I didn’t mean to bite your head off.”

Nodding and giving her brother a small smile, Audra sighed to herself and glanced sideways at the empty chair, reaching out and grabbing onto her mother’s hand for support.

“Nick, this is hard on all of us, not just Heath.” replied Victoria quietly. “Heath’s been alone for so long, he just needs to learn to trust we only want what’s best for him. He is still very much a boy.”

“I don’t think he’s ever been allowed to be just a boy, Mother.” scowled Nick moving back his chair and placing a kiss on her cheek. “Tim is working with Heath today on extending the corral. I’m riding to the North slope to check out the dam.”

One by one her children departed from the breakfast table, their appetites almost as nonexistent as her youngest son. Sitting and drinking her coffee, Victoria silently debated over the path they’d chosen to protect their newest member. Were they right to keep him out of harm’s way by using the value he placed on his word, the binding promise his word contained? Had she used his longing for a family to hold him close to her? She knew he’d do anything for her and did she have the right to use his deep loyalty to hold him with bonds of love?

Sighing deeply, the Barkley matriarch suddenly found herself unsure and unsettled. The blue eyes didn’t sparkle with laughter or hope. Now they were dulled and lifeless. Closing her eyes and holding her clenched hands to her forehead, she found herself in silent prayer, needing to find a way to reach through and chase his torment away.

Heath worked beside Tim Jenkins, the men were extending the training corral and they worked without speaking unless necessary. Tim who had forged a relationship with his blond boss sensed the mood of the younger man and respected his quiet. The newest son, the newest boss did what was necessary to maintain the level of standard the Barkley Ranch was known for.

Often, he’d see the younger man doing work he could have passed onto one of the hands but instead simply handled it as he had most of his life. Doing what was required for the job and doing it right. Not asking for anything special from anyone and simply being himself.

Several hours passed and the two men made good progress on their project, the post holes were dug into the ground and the wood laid beside each one. Stopping for a drink of water from the canteen, Tim frowned and gestured towards the rider coming into the yard.

“I thought Wally was working with Barrett today.” stated Tim, his words causing Heath to straighten and nod.

“They’re supposed to be at the orchard.” replied Heath waving the returning man over. “Where’s Barrett?”

Shrugging, the older hand snorted in disgust, “I ain’t seen him since he took off this morning, boss. I came to see if he was back here in the bunkhouse. I could use his help, the no good piece of carcass.”

“Did he saw where he was going?” questioned Heath pushing his hat up and running his sleeve across his forehead.

“He was mumbling something.” pondered Wally, his wrinkled brow scrunched up as he tried to remember. “Oh yeah, he said only a fool would waste such a golden opportunity.”

“Heath!” shouted Tim when the blond staggered and fell against the post from his head which was suddenly spinning out of control unaware of his body being caught and lowered to the ground by Tim. Wally jumped off his horse and knelt beside the two men.

“Heath, what’s the matter?” stammered the older man, not liking the pale pallor on the teenager’s face and the shaking in his body.

“My god!” mumbled Heath uncontrollably, pushing himself to his feet and standing on shaky legs, his eyes wide in his pale face as he squeezed his temples against the sudden headache.

“What is it?” asked Wally, holding onto the trembling man’s arm.

“I remember, I heard him on the way to town. It’s not me he hates. He said he’d use saving my miserable life as a way to get close and wait for his reward. He said finding me was a golden opportunity only a fool would waste. All he had to do was wait and time would provide his opportunity to get revenge.”

Chapter 65

“Get Duke. Tell ‘em Barrett’s gone after Nick.” ordered Heath as he ran towards Charger who was tied to the corral.

Heath pulled himself into the saddle and pushed the horse into a gallop heading north. The dust from the fast horse lingered in the air long after the pair was gone from their sight. Wally was left standing in the uncompleted corral watching as Tim Jenkins galloped to the south where the foreman was with a crew of men and wondering what was going on.

Heath didn’t need to use spurs or a riding crop to entice any equine he rode to move faster, he was one with the horses, he was trusted by them and they could sense his moods. He’d never been able to explain his connection with the large animals and it was something which couldn’t be put into descriptive terms. He was one of them and they understood each other.

The large red stallion felt the anxiousness flowing off the young man on his back, the man whose strong hands groomed his fine coat til it shined, his strong hands caressed his neck, his nose and scratched behind his ears. The man on his back treated him in a manner befitting a king, treated him like royalty.

The large horse knew every inch of this ranch. This was where he previously ran free and enticed the horses of the ranch to break free and join his herd, creating havoc with the other Barkley horses. He’d lived a life of freedom until one fateful day when he felt a rope around his neck, the rope appearing out of thin air. His days of freedom ended and yet, in his captivity, he found fulfillment and enjoyment with the man on his back.

Leaning out his neck, the gait of the large horse quickly ate up the ground under his hooves. His powerful muscles rippled, his mane and tail moved as he crossed through the wind, over hills and down as if they were mere molehills. His pace not slowing as he used his strength to repay the man on his back for his loyalty when his freedom been taken from him.

Heath leaned forward to keep his resistance to the wind lower, to aid the surge of power from Charger who instinctively sensed the dire situation. Keeping his eyes squinted against the wind whipping his face, the blond scanned the horizon, hoping he’d run across the revenge seeking hand. He now knew what he’d been trying to remember and it sent a chill up his spine.

Barrett had waited, keeping his cool and his hatred to himself until finally his golden moment arrived. The man he sought hadn’t been unaccompanied for the past two months or if he had, it’d been when Barrett couldn’t get to him. Wherever he went someone was always with him. Until today. Today, his soon to be ex-employer rode off to the north and the hand would have sworn the birds were singing a sweeter tune as he watched the foreman lead a crew of men to the south.

A smile had spread across his face and his mouth watered in anticipation. Leaving his fellow crew member behind, Barrett skirted the ranch where he knew the bastard was working on the corral with Jenkins. He didn’t like or hate the blond boss, he just didn’t think much about him. He provided a means to get his foot back onto the ranch where the subject of his anger lived. When he found Thomson beside the stream, good fortune and lady luck were riding in his hip pocket that night.

While Barrett held no love for Heath, he held immense hatred for his brother, Nicholas Jonathan Barkley. It was Barrett’s own sense of self-importance, his own inflated ego, his own grandiose idea of his talents which created the hatred.

The man had worked and toiled for the Barkley family, his sights set on the job as foreman. It never occurred to Barrett he lacked the ability to accept such a great responsibility. It never occurred to Barrett he didn’t possess the necessary skills in leading men, in gaining their trust and respect. That he fell short in these things weren’t in his realm of reality.

Barrett simply knew he’d been wronged, he’d been cast aside as quick as one would toss away an apple core. He’d been working for a future and the rug had been pulled out from under him by Nick Barkley. He’d rescued Nick Barkley’s own mother from the hands of the stranger they now called brother, he’d saved her life and received nothing but shame and anger in return.

When he’d been fired and escorted off the Barkley property, word got around quick as a grass fire and he couldn’t find employment in the surrounding community. Once you were canned by the Barkleys, it seemed an invisible black mark was branded into your forehead for every prospective employer to see.

He hadn’t done anything wrong and yet, his boss treated him as if he’d murdered the man’s best friend or stole his woman. No, to Barrett’s mind, incapable of seeing himself in his true form, his former boss ruined him when he should have been hailed as a hero. Now, he would be remembered as another Barkley to be assassinated by an unknown shooter.

Slowing his horse at the base of the hill which overlooked the dam, Barrett tied his horse to a tree and slid his rifle from the boot before making his way up the treeline and crawling to the top of the hill. His palms were wet with sweat as he clung to the metal weapon and studied the small valley below, smiling at the familiar horse picketed and methodically chewing the plush grasses at his feet.

Several minutes passed and his frustration mounted until he smiled, his quarry suddenly appearing from the side of the lake where he’d been hidden by a large rock and he edged his long gun forward.

Nick hadn’t come directly to his destination from the ranch. Instead, he had stopped by the grave of his father, seeking the man’s advise, speaking to the man of the son he never met, the son he never knew he had.

Nick Barkley, rancher and prominent citizen, had fallen to his knees for over an hour speaking to the man who was ultimately responsible. His father. If his father hadn’t lost his memory and fallen in love with a young girl, Heath wouldn’t have been born under a dark cloud.

He wouldn’t have been born in a world which hated him from his first wail. He wouldn’t have been forced to live with guardians who took their sick twisted need for pleasure out on a child. He wouldn’t have been forced to flee from that environment into the hell of war.

He blamed his father for the torment in the teenager and yet, he thanked him for the gift sent to them, the gift of the blond man. On his knees under the morning sun, the strong rancher lifted his face to the heavens above and begged his father to help Heath and help them.

Nick was in an emotional torrent and the serenity of the area around the dam almost brought tears to the hazel eyes when he’d arrived earlier. Picketing Coco, he took a deep breath and slowly reviewed the dam for any weak points, any parts which may need to be redone. Finished and feeling a sense of peace from the surrounding area, Nick sat with his back against the large boulder, absently twisting some grass in his fingers and staring outward at the calm water.

Searching his mind and his heart for the right steps to take, the right words to rebuild the life in his blond brother’s soul. He didn’t know how much time had passed while he sat locked in his thoughts, his bundled energy lay dormant as he sat unmoving under the high noon day sun.

Picking up his hat, Nick didn’t have answers but did feel a renewed sense of clarity from the time he took to simply ponder the past, the present and the future.

Walking around the granite stone, he heard the pounding hooves in the air, turning his head and falling to the side as the report rang out in the small valley.

Chapter 66

Turning his head towards the sound of the pounding hooves, Nick fall to the side, off balance when his right foot entered the hidden hole under the grass.

Barrett’s attention was drawn away from his objective by the unexpected galloping horse and his finger pulled the trigger instead of slowly squeezing, causing the projectile of grief to miss its mark and sending it to speed by the head of dark hair.

The distinctive whirl as the bullet flew by his head made Nick flinch and stumble back to the safety of the boulder, his chest heaving from the frantic dodge backwards on an ankle which was zinging with pain. Another shot sounded, destroying the tranquility with deadly intentions as he hunkered behind the boulder with his pistol in hand. A rifle against his colt was not a scenario much to his liking.

Peering around the boulder, hazel eyes caught sight of the riderless red stallion and the large man frantically searched his limited view of the area, his heart up in his throat. He was sure his little brother was atop the horse when he caught a glimpse of it before he’d stepped into the hole.

“HEATH?” shouted Nick, his voice carrying among the stillness which settled over the area. “HEATH!”

No voice answered his call and Nick took a deep breath to fight the rising fear of the unknown. Did the second shot find a mark? Did the hidden assailant kill the younger man instead of him? Moving around to the other side of the rock, he studied the ground between him and the next bit of cover, wondering if he could make it. He could feel the swelling of his ankle and sat down, struggling to take off his boot. Studying the limb which was becoming black and blue, he felt the tender area and was thankful it only appeared to be twisted or sprained, not broken.

Moving back to the other side of the rock, he lay on his stomach and glanced over towards Coco through the patch of trees. His mount stood where he left him and was now joined by the red stallion, the equines calmly enjoying a bit of respite in the stillness.

“HEATH!” shouted Nick again, his fear rising his deep voice an octave, his panic rising with each second crawling by and with the realization the teenager may be bleeding or dying while he was safe behind a rock.

Taking a deep breath, hazel eyes squinted with anger and his jaw clenched in determination, his decision made. Pushing himself upwards, the large man ignored the sudden pain when he dashed to the trees on his left, diving behind the deadfall as a bullet sent a piece of bark flying in the air.

Gasping for air and feeling the tears stinging his eyes from the burst of pain in his injured limb, Nick crawled to the end of the deadfall, frustrated when he couldn’t see his little brother anywhere. The grasses in the valley were waist high, the area scattered with rocks, brush and trees. Not overgrown and thick, just enough to prevent a clear view of the valley unless you had a bird’s eye view.

Turning his eyes up to the hills surrounding the peaceful area, Nick scanned the high advantage point for the unknown assailant. Looking back to where he’d been and to where he currently was, the rancher picked out three places where the shooter could be hiding. Three places all with a clear view of any movement he made.

Calling out again for his brother, Nick laid the side of his head against the rough log and fought the fear rising within him. He needed to see his little brother, he wouldn’t, he couldn’t entertain the possibility he was dead. Not this way, not now. Not like his father.

Glancing around, he cursed at the water behind his back and the open area in front of him. He needed to make a move, he needed to find Heath and he wasn’t about to let some drygulcher win this game he’d been forced into. Sighting another tree, he focused on his objective and pushed himself to the edge of the deadfall before taking a deep breath.

Barrett knew his sudden lack of concentration from the unexpected arriving horse sent his bullet off its mark. A deep rage exploded in him as he quickly shifted his rifle towards the unwelcome rider. Squeezing the trigger at the sight of the blond bastard, he grinned with satisfaction when the blond fell off the stallion into the tall grasses. Keeping his eyes on the area, he watched for any movement of the reeds, unable to see the man where he landed.

The calling of his boss for his brother, the fear in the man’s voice was bittersweet to the hand. He would have liked for Nick to watch the blond who’d become important to the family take his bullet and fall to the ground. Moving to the next tree, Barrett whipped his rifle to his shoulder when his boss made a break from his hiding spot, the bullet finding the dead log instead of the man diving behind it.

Swearing at another missed opportunity, the hand steadily made his way across the hill, moving parallel across the ridge, using every bit of brush and his neutral color clothing to conceal his movements. He fought the urge to shout out at his boss, to call out to the man and tell him his brother was dead. He wanted to make him scream out from the pain he’d feel then pushed the urge down.

When he stood face to face with the man who’d ruined his life, he’d tell him right before he shot him in the stomach and left him dying under the hot sun, his last thoughts would be how he’d failed his little brother. Yes, that would be more satisfying. The idea of seeing the anguish in the hazel eyes of Nick Barkley right before he split him open with a bullet made Barrett salivate with anticipation as he moved closer to finish his prey off, moving at an downward angle.

Taking a deep breath, Nick pushed himself to his feet and lunged for the closest tree, his leg collapsing from the blazing fire deep in the depths of it. Falling forward onto his stomach, his pistol flew from his hand when his air was propelled out of his chest from the jarring with the ground. Pushing himself to his feet, he fell onto his knees and cried out in pain from the explosion within his leg before crawling to his pistol. Reaching out a hand for the weapon, he stopped at the sound of a bullet being loaded into the breech of the rifle.

Looking up, hazel eyes widened with surprise at the man who was behind the rifle pointed down at him. Pushing himself to a sitting position, Nick clamped a hand down on his thigh, the red liquid oozing through his fingers and he sucked in a gasp of pain.

The hatred in the black eyes of the man standing above him startled Nick. He hadn’t expected such a venomous look from the man who’d appeared to be happy to be working at the ranch again. Quickly running the past month and a half through his mind, he couldn’t come up with a clue to the hatred Barrett now freely exhibited.

Barrett calmly walked forward watching the surprise in the hazel eyes of his boss as he kicked the pistol further away. The man on the ground kept his eyes on him and Barrett smirked. He could almost see the wheels turning in the mind of his boss, going over the time since he’d brought the near dead bastard to town.

“Barrett, what the hell is this?” demanded Nick, his surprise turning to anger. “Where’s my brother?”

“I save your precious mother and you fire me!” snapped Barrett furiously. “I deserved a medal for saving that rich bitch and you put the word out on me!”

“YOU DIDN’T SAVE HER!” yelled Nick. “HEATH DID! HE SAVED HER, NOT YOU! IF YOU FOUND HER, SHE’D PROBABLY BE DEAD TODAY! YOU DESERVED WHAT YOU GOT! YOU DESERVED TO BE FIRED! WHERE’S MY BROTHER?”

Smiling, Barrett looked into the hazel eyes before gloating, “He’s dead. I killed him.”

“NO!” screamed Nick, forgetting his wounded leg and trying to rise to his feet, falling back when the hand hit him in the stomach with the wood butt of the rifle. Wretching violently from the sudden pain in his gut as he knelt on all fours, Nick fell onto his side when Barrett pushed him over with his foot.

“YOU SONOFABITCH! YOU’RE LYING!” shouted Nick, the pain in his heart overtaking the pain in his body, shaking his head in denial of the man’s declaration.

Standing over his boss, Barrett smiled into the pain filled eyes and slowly moved his rifle away from where he’d cradled it against his chest. “I don’t know how the bastard knew I was after you but it don’t matter. Killing two of you is even better than killing one. His big brother couldn’t save him. You killed him Barkley sure as I’m standing here.”

Cursing at the man above him, Nick rolled onto his knees, his fury rising over his sense of loss at the taunting laughter ringing out over the air, his body giving out from the loss of blood. The taunting laughter was replaced with a choking sound and Nick glanced upwards.

The darkness on the edges of his vision closed in at the sight of a hand holding onto the rifle barrel, holding it against Barrett’s body while a knife was plunged deep into the wide chest of the small statured hand.

Chapter 67

As hard as the pounding hooves were on the ground underneath his powerful equine, the teenager’s self-recriminations pounded in his head.

If only he’d remembered sooner. If only he’d recalled the hatred in Barrett, his brother wouldn’t be in danger. Why didn’t he fight harder to remember? Why didn’t he fight harder to make the recurring dream reveal the truth it kept from him? His own mind had held back, hiding from his own awareness the words spoken while he was unconscious in the revenge seeking man’s arms.

All thoughts of self loathing were put to the side when he spotted the horse tied in the area of the trees. Pushing Charger to skirt the hill, he made the conscious choice to become a target as he neared the opening of the hills, hoping to draw the fire which would be directed towards Nick.

Wrapping the reins around the saddlehorn, he pulled his rifle from the scabbard and used his heels to encourage the stallion to move faster. Entering the valley, he quickly scanned the ridge of the hill where he’d seen Barrett’s horse tethered. Holding the rifle in his hands on the back of a galloping horse was not an unfamiliar action for the teenager.

From the corner of his vision, he saw his brother unaware of the imminent danger fall sideways as the sound of a shot echoed in the valley. Gasping out loud, he turned his head to look and felt a blinding pain before he toppled from the saddle into the tall grasses, losing his hold on the rifle as his body rolled and lay still.

It was the heat on his back, the warmth on his skin and the screaming of his name which tantalized him through the darkness. The panic and fear in the male voice and the sound of a rifle shot some time later which opened his eyes, blinking against pain and swallowing the sickness from the dizziness.

He could feel the danger all around and he didn’t move, trying to categorize the sounds he heard through the dullness in his brain. The quiet of the area was only an illusion, a mirage, a drastic difference from the sounds of cannons, screaming voices of men and horses among the battles of the war which split their country in two.

All were silent, hushed and waiting amidst the beauty surrounding the small area he’d been ordered to. Ordered to track the traitor, the worst kind of danger to those who fought besides each other with loyalty and valor. They trusted each other to take turns watching each other’s backs. They stood together as brothers, snuck deep behind enemy lines, were elusive as ghosts and deadly as rattlesnakes.

Major Binginton kept his men close to him, slept beside them, ate beside them and sent them out on deadly details. Details only a select few were skilled to perform. This detail he’d chosen the youngest and the oldest under his command.

Scott Fenson, dark haired and brown eyed, older by a mere ten years was the senior man. His skill in the woods learned in the hills of Virginia, his marksmanship the highest ranking of all his men.

The youngest, Heath Thomson was quiet, reserved and constantly watching, constantly aware of all around him. Able to move through the thickest underbrush, his small size an asset in the subterfuge of warfare was only second to his deadly skill with gun and knife. The blue eyes of the teenager would become lifeless on a mission, he had yet to fully appreciate the value of life. Whatever past the youngest had experienced, those in the unit knew it attributed to his emotionless, deadly personification on missions.

It was a mission gone bad, the tracking of the traitor successful but now the hunters became the hunted, his comrades on the other side searching for the men who’d taken their source of information from them. Shot as he made his way to the meeting point with the senior member in this detail, the youngest found refuge in the trunk of a tree. His small size was shaking from the trauma to his body, the trauma from the lead ball entering his side. The bleeding stopped with moss before he made his way into the hiding spot, the enemy unable to find him by drops of blood.

Waiting til he felt the area was safe, he left his hidden hide-away and struggled to make his way back to their own lines. The damage from the bullet creating a fever in his small frame and he fought to keep his mind on the present. The screaming of a voice stopped his progress and his feverish body listened through the pounding in his head. It was the voice of Scott and the youngest started towards it, then halted, his hair on the back of his neck rising at the sound of laughter.

Taking time to study the area around him, his scrutinized each tree, each bush, each bird to see if the fowl would startle from a hidden enemy when they landed on a branch. He fought to tune out the screams of agony until he was satisfied before moving forward.

Scott lay on the ground, bleeding from the knife wound across his stomach, the contents of his abdomen clear to see. His skin was horribly pale, his lifeblood seeping through his fingers and the man who stood above him struck out again, his blade leaving another cut on the man who was already close to death.

The hunter had caught the hunted and he was taking out his perverse pleasure, using interrogation as an excuse in the war of brothers. The blade appeared again, ready to inflict more agony and the youngest moved closer suddenly clamping his arm around the man’s throat from behind, his own blade moving effortlessly through the clothes and back of the torturer, the point of it turned and driven into the man’s heart.

The blue eyes, lifeless and dull, studied the tall grasses and moved through the area. He didn’t notice he was wearing different clothes, he didn’t notice he was not in the battlefield. All he noticed was the anguish in the screams of denial, the raised voice of a man who stood by him like a brother. His mission may be compromised but he wouldn’t leave til he took out another torturer.

His knife slid into his hand from under his vest, the blade turned downward and he saw the rifle in the man’s hand. One hit from the rifle stock or barrel on him would finish what the bullet had started and he understood the importance of disabling the weapon.

Stealthily he stood up, his hand grabbing hold of the hot barrel and held onto it, his right arm pulling round and sinking the blade deep into the chest of the man, his legs giving out and he slid to the ground.

Standing on his feet with rifle in hand and swaying from the exertion, blue eyes fell upon the dark haired man whose blood coated the grass beneath his body. Falling beside him, the blond reached for the first aid items and herbs he kept in a small pouch Jim Feathers made for him and he looked around in confusion when he couldn’t locate it.

Taking off the dark bandana around the unconscious man, Heath studied the pale face, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs and winced at the pain it caused. The face wavered between two men and he squinted his eyes, the image of Scott the one remaining.

Inserting the blade of his knife in the hole, it sliced through the denim material like a feather through warm butter. Wiping the blood from the hole in the thigh, he lifted the muscular leg and examined the exit wound before cutting a section off the black shirt and placing it over the wound, binding it tightly in place with the bandana.

Squeezing his fingers on his temples, the blond clenched his jaw against the thunderous roaring in his head, his own body becoming unsteady and weak. Something was wrong but he wasn’t able to pinpoint what it was, his focus was dwindling with the rising roaring in his ears.

Nick moaned and opened his eyes, whispering at the sight of his little brother holding his temple, his voice weak and unsteady, “Heath?”

Lowering his hand, dead blue eyes in the bloody face met his, the confusion and pain in the orbs tearing at Nick’s heart when a shaky hand reached over and covered his mouth before whispering.

“Rebs near, Scott. We gotta move.”

Pushing himself to his elbow, Nick’s voice choked with fear, “It’s Nick, Heath.”

Not appearing to have heard him, Heath reached over and put the right arm of his unit brother over his shoulders, his right holding the rifle and using the stock on the ground to push them up as he held onto the black belt with his left, his legs shaking from the exertion required.

Taking deep breaths against the pain and sickness after he was pulled to his feet, Nick saw the wound on the side of the head, the blood matting the blond hair from the bullet crease.

“Heath, you’re hurt.” Hissed Nick, through clenched teeth, his leg throbbing as his little brother focused on finding a safe haven for them ignored the words and kept going, putting one foot in front of another.

The sound of several horses stopped the blond in his tracks and his eyes darted around, seeking out a place for them to make a stand. Nick squinted his eyes and sighed with relief as he recognized Jarrod and Duke with several of the hands. His relief turned to shock when Heath seemed to gain a herculean amount of strength from their arrival and pulled him along, towards a stand of trees, his right hand loading the rifle by flipping the lever.

“NO, HEATH!” screamed Nick reaching for the rifle and pushing the smaller man onto the ground, the two men struggling for the gun between them. Jarrod and Duke jumped from their horses, rushing over to the men as a bullet left the chamber and echoed through the valley.

Chapter 68

“NICK! HEATH!” screamed Jarrod, flinching as the weapon his two brothers were fighting over discharged. Panting heavily he pulled Nick off the top of Heath who lay with eyes closed and his hand limply falling to the side, releasing its hold of the gun when Nick hauled it off his chest and tossed it to the side.

“Nick, did Heath shoot you?” asked Jarrod, grabbing onto his stunned brother’s shoulders, confused when the hazel eyed brother shrugged off his hold and grabbed at the unconscious blond. “Nick, what the hell are you doing?”

Turning Heath towards him, Nick pulled the knife from its sling, the bloody blade clear for Jarrod to see before Nick fell onto his side, his strength gone and he bit back his sob of anger and pain, his words hissed out. “He’s back in the war, Jarrod. He was gonna kill you.”

“What about the shot, Nick?” questioned Jarrod gruffly, trying to examine both men and not liking what he saw with either look. “Did it hit you or Heath?”

“It went into the dirt.” whispered Nick, suddenly so exhausted he couldn’t move or keep his eyes open. “I…I knocked him out.”

Jarrod wiped a shaky hand over his face and examined the tied bandana around Nick’s leg before moving to Heath. Duke handed him a wet cloth and watched as the lawyer’s trembling fingers clean the wound on the side of his brother’s head before wrapping part of his shirt around it.

“Tim’s gone for the doctor, he’ll bring him to the ranch. It’d be faster if they rode with us back to the ranch.” suggested Duke quietly, placing a calming hand on the shaken man’s shoulder.

“Yeah, you’re right Duke.” admitted Jarrod, looking up suddenly, “Barrett?”

“Dead.” said Duke gesturing to the side where two hands were tying the corpse onto his horse. “Knife wound to the chest. Turly said looks like he had Nick pinned down and Heath came up behind him. Won’t know for certain until they’re able to tell us what happened.”

Nodding, Jarrod gently caressed each of his unaware brothers’ cheek before taking a deep breath to calm himself. “Okay, I’ll take Heath and you take Nick.”

Neither brother woke on the ride back to the ranch, neither able to give further details of what occurred at the dam. The town physician was at the ranch waiting for his patients who were quickly carried up the stairs and into their rooms. Depositing Nick on the bed, Duke and Victoria were greeted by slowly opening hazel eyes, glancing around the room in confusion after the foreman smiled and left the family alone.

“Mother?” whispered Nick, his body’s aches and pains reflecting in the eyes watching Dr. Merar unwrap the bandage and biting back his groan at the probing fingers.

“Shhhh…lie still, Nick.” coaxed Victoria running her fingers through his unruly black hair.

“Heath’s hurt.” hissed the large man clenching the bed sheet from the antiseptic being applied to clean his wound and then growling. “HEY!”

Glancing upward into the hazel eyes, Howard smiled at the fire overcoming the pained look in his patient’s pale face. “Sorry, Nick but we can’t have it getting infected now, can we?”

Glaring at the physician, Nick turned his eyes upward to his mother’s and questioned, “Heath, how is he?”

“He’s unconscious, Nick. Jarrod’s sitting with him.” informed Victoria with a sigh.

“Victoria, you can finish bandaging his wound and get some liquid in him before giving him some laudanum for the pain. I’ll be next door with Heath.” instructed Howard handing her some white cloth and closing his bag. “Nick, stay off that leg for two days or you’ll start it to bleeding again.”

“Doc, wait.” stated Nick hastily, his request stopping the physician who turned and looked back at him. “Be careful, Heath thought he was back in the war and he may still when he wakes up.”

Nodding, Howard patted the uninjured leg of his patient before leaving the room. The sound of the door closing was heard and Nick shut his eyes, drifting off while his petite mother skillfully wrapped his wound, pulling the blanket up to cover the bruising on her son’s stomach.

Leaving the room and finding Silas waiting in the hallway, Victoria requested the old caretaker of their family bring some broth along with a pitcher of water. Reaching for the knob on Nick’s door, Victoria stopped at the scream of anger coming from next door causing her heart to pound in her chest before she flung open the other door, standing like a statue in the doorway.

“Don’t touch me!” screamed Heath pushing the men away and rolling off the other side of the bed, stumbling over to the wall, demanding angrily. “What kinda place is this? Where’s Scott? What’d ya’ do with ‘em?”

Jarrod held out his hand and helped Howard to his feet not taking his eyes off his brother who’d awoken combative and locked in another time, his strength coming from the unsettling fear inside him. Heath was swaying on his feet, his left hand on the wall and his eyes darting in their sockets, the fear and the disorganization of reality clear in the blue orbs. Holding his hand to his head, he fought to bring some order to the chaos in his mind, the jumbled thoughts mixing and intertwining.

“Heath, just relax. Everything’s fine.” soothed Jarrod calmly, repeating his words several times. “No one will hurt you, little brother.”

Staring at the dark haired man offering reassurance and slowly advancing, Heath tilted his head, squeezing his temples before squinting his eyes, his voice barely heard in the room, “Jarrod?”

“Yes, it’s Jarrod, Heath.” smiled the older man reaching out and taking hold of the swaying figure before him. Heath gazed into the warm worried blue eyes before his legs started shaking and a horrific scene flashed in his mind.

“I killed.…I killed Nick.” gasped Heath, his eyes rolling in the back of his head and he became dead weight in his older brother’s hands, pulling both of them to the floor.

“NO, YOU DIDN’T HEATH!” shouted Jarrod, cradling the unconscious man to his chest and holding his cheek with the palm of his hand. “HE’S FINE, NICK’S FINE!”

With Jarrod’s help, the two men placed the blond on the bed, propping him up with pillows before the physician cleaned and sutured the graze under the blond hair. Listening to his heart, Howard let out a sigh of relief and smiled at the mother and son holding onto each other for support.

“He’ll have one heck of a headache but he should be fine.” assured the medicine man.

Brushing back her tears of relief, Victoria leaned into Jarrod’s side and suddenly felt a quiver of fear run through her at the rage and confusion in her blond son. “Howard, he was so confused…do you think he’ll be that way again when he wakes up?”

Pursing his lips, Howard put away his stethoscope before turning to his old friend and replying softly, “He could be Victoria but at least he didn’t stay there. I’ve seen other men who stayed locked in that world, unable to find their way back. Heath’s experience at the dam may have been similar to one he had during the war and it brought him back there for a short while. Or it could be the nightmares he’s been having. The human brain is a mystery and I don’t think we’ll ever be able to unlock all its doors. We’ll know when he wakens. I expect he’ll be out for a couple hours and when he does waken, you know what questions to ask him to gauge his concussion. I think it’s only mild but I’ll stop by in the morning to check on them both.”

“Thank you, Howard.” said Victoria taking her friend’s hand in hers before he left, being walked out by Jarrod.

Moving to the bed, Victoria ran her fingers through the blond hair and sighed at the white bandage. Placing a kiss on his forehead, she sat in the chair until she heard Silas returning with the tray. Taking the tray from him, she went into Nick’s room and Silas took up a vigil at the teenager’s bedside til Jarrod returned. Sitting in a chair by the bed as Nick lay in a laudanum induced sleep, Victoria closed her eyes and sent a prayer upwards.

The Barkley matriarch, strong willed as an oak but able to bend and not break from the strong winds of destiny, found herself treading softly, afraid of where in the past her blond son would be when he woke. He was a gentle soul but the experiences of his past kept a raging monster inside the teenager and all she wanted to do was vanquish it from his soul.

She just didn’t know how and the hand of destiny moved a piece on the playing board and sat back as the price of the ante climbed, the pot built in size til it was a maker or a breaker.

Chapter 69

Two weeks had passed since the two brothers were brought back from the dam, two weeks passed since the flashback of the youngest to a time of being surrounded by death, death on the battlefields which lead to death in Carterson. Heath and Nick reached a tentative middle ground, the middle son angered at the youngest’s disregard for his own life when he galloped into the valley to come to his aid.

The youngest tried to make his older brother understand his reasoning, his love for the older he placed above everything else. Neither was able to make the other understand what was inside of them, one would have given everything and the other was afraid to be the reason for another to lose everything he’d found.

The California land lay basking in the sun of a new day, a new dawning under its glory. The birds sung sweetly, floating through the air, soundless through the windless sky. The sunrise had been a particularly glorious sight with colors of a deep orange breaking over the horizon and shining on the blond’s face as he worked mending a fence. Heath was revelling in the freedom of being able to work without looking over his shoulder, without feeling a chill crawl up his spine.

The morning passed quickly and he made his way back to the main house, whistling to Charger who twitched his ears and shook his head in response to the off-key sound. Reaching the barn, he unsaddled the stallion and gave him a long grooming knowing he wouldn’t be riding this afternoon and instead would be learning more about the ledger system from his older brothers. Stopping by the stall of Gal, he spent time with the modoc equine, whispering a promise to take her out tomorrow, not wanting his faithful friend to feel abandoned because he also had the red stallion.

Crossing the yard, Heath pulled open the door of the mansion and grinned at Jarrod who was crossing the foyer.

“Brother Heath.” smiled Jarrod clapping the blond on the shoulder as he put his gunbelt on the round table. “Come here, there’s someone we want you to meet.”

Following the older man into the parlor, he stared in shock at the gray haired man standing beside Nick and smiling into the hazel eyes of his brother.

“Heath, this is Matt Todman.” said Jarrod, the words barely leaving his mouth before the blond lunged and struck out with his right fist, driving it into the face of their visitor, leaping on the downed man, landing two more blows before finding himself hauled upright by the strong arms of his brothers.

“HEATH!” screamed Nick and Jarrod, stunned at the rage flowing from their brother, holding onto the furious teenager’s arms who was bucking and cursing the man who pushed himself to a kneeling position and wiped the blood off his face.

“STOP IT, HEATH!” shouted Jarrod. “HEATH!”

Victoria rushed into the parlor, her hand flying to her mouth as the fear filled her soul and she screamed through her tears, “HEATH, PLEASE!”

The sound of his mother’s terrified screams reached through the haze of red and his loud gasps of breaths were all that filled the room while another woman rushed over to the man who stood on unsteady feet.

“That’s Matt Bentell. Werz of Andersonville and Bentell of Carterson prison. They were two of a kind! What that animal did to us prisoners….I swore if I ever found him again…I’D KILL HIM!” hissed Heath, his family staring at each other in disbelief before his brothers physically removed him from the room, taking the struggling teenager into the study with their mother following.

The door of the study closed and the older men let loose their hold on the youngest, his eyes were filled with a fury, a rage rising from the very depths of his being, his pacing around the room resembled a caged cat, lithe and muscles quivering, ready to pounce. Unconsciously, the teenager’s right hand reached under his vest for the knife which wasn’t there but up in his room.

Heath didn’t hold back in his explanation of the time he spent in Carterson prison, the months of hell, the horrors he lived through, watching and waiting for death to welcome him. The teenager paced and spoke through jaws clenched from hatred, his words describing the torture which left the scars on him inside and out, the time spent in a place where most of his fellow prisoners died…only one hundred were alive at the end…only one hundred and he’d wished he hadn’t been one of them, one of the survivors. Oh, how he wished he had died alongside his friends and finally received some inner peace from death.

Ironically, the family was handed a piece of his soul that day, his baring of the darkness the prison held inside him, the words he spoke were thoughts he’d never told anyone else. He’d never revealed all to anyone but he did that day to his mother and brothers.

The hatred inside her blond son, his desire to kill the man they had only known as Todman shook her to the very core of her being. The tiny woman knew such hatred, she once held such hatred for the man who killed her husband, the man who tried to destroy her life with his deadly deed.

Victoria Barkley knew and she stood in front of her blond son, revealing to him her own depths of hatred for a person she never knew, a person who touched her life with the casting of a single bullet.

She didn’t forgive the man who took her husband from her but she let go of the hatred, let go of the anger she held inside. She had to let go for she knew it would destroy her and destroy all those around her.

“I had too much around me to love, to go on hating. Look around you, Heath! Matt Bentell is upstairs in the guest room, is it really in you to go up there and kill him?” choked Victoria, her tears filling her eyes and twisting his heart.

The tears in her eyes and the fear in his mother’s voice were all he saw as he stood before the woman who’d he do anything for. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and said quietly, “The breeding stock at San Inez. I’ll take a ride this afternoon and take a look at it.”

Turning, he glanced at his brothers, reaching up to wipe the tears suddenly springing into his eyes before opening the door, seeking the haven of the outside, leaving the mansion which carried the stench of the death that followed Bentell wherever he went.

He’d spent the afternoon looking at the breeding stock, fighting between going back to the mansion he called home or just keep riding. He’d told them no one could understand unless they lived through such a place and in his heart, he knew the truth of his words.

He reasoned in his mind his family hadn’t knowing they were associating with Bentell, the infamous warden of the reb prison. They could only go by the name the man gave to them and therefore, they were not to blame for allowing that monster into their home. His internal war raged on and he turned his horse back to the direction of Stockton, back to those he called family.

Never in his internal ponderings of the day would he ever have imagined what they wanted him to do, what she said he must do to rid himself of the hate he carried inside. Never in his universe would he have expected they’d chosen Bentell over him. For in his mind they had, he was still employed by them and they wanted him to work with this man, the man responsible for some of his darkest demons.

Holding onto his shirt with her small hands, clenching the material while she glared into her youngest son’s burning eyes, she threw down the challenge while his brothers stood by, firm in their belief this was the path to take to help their brother.

“Heath, do you want to hate so? Do you want the memory of Carterson prison to gnaw at you forever? What we’re asking you to do isn’t supposed to be easy! Show us what you inherited from your father….SHOW US SOME OF TOM BARKLEY’S GUTS!”

The challenge in her gray eyes flashed for him to see and he glared back at her, leaving the study and slamming the door, leaving his family behind and climbing the stairs to his room, the mansion shook with the force used to slam his door on its hinges.

Falling to the floor on his knees, Heath held his arms across his chest, rocking himself as his body shook and the sobs filled the air in his room, his stomach welled with sickness and despair.

The next morning, standing in the doorway of her youngest son’s bedroom, the tears streamed down her face and his brothers stood in shock at the barren room. With the challenge issued in order to cast out the monster deep inside of him, they changed their own destiny, they changed it with their words and challenge.

The hand of destiny dealt the cards and how they chose to play the cards changed the future for all of them.

THE END