To Be or Not To Be, Part 2

by Katlynn

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 7

Heath half-slid and half-fell into the clearing from the rocks he’d so carefully climbed less than fifteen minutes before. The horses were still securely tied but they were skittering around from the sound of falling rocks and Nick’s yells. He pushed Buster out of the way to get to the rocks around which Nick had disappeared. As he scrambled up them, he felt a sense of relief to still hear Nick yelling because it sounded too close to be coming from the bottom of the mountain.

“Nick!” he called, trying to see over the rocks to wherever Nick might be. “Nick, where are ya’!”

“That’s a helluva question!” he heard Nick’s reply.

“Well, it’s the best one I got!” Heath yelled back at him. But then he thought of another. “Have ya’ got a good handhold?” he called.

“Yeah – but only one foot is steady – so you better have a plan!”

“Are ya’ hurt?”

“No – I don’t think so.”

“Nick, I can’t see where ya’ are – I’m gonna get a rope and toss it over – just hold on a minute longer!”

It seemed to take forever to pull a coiled rope from the pack on Buster’s back. He hooked it over the horn on Coco’s saddle and tightened the cinch before returning to the rocks, uncoiling the rope as he climbed.

“Nick,” he laid down on a boulder to try to see over it, “I’m gonna toss the rope over and you’re gonna have to tell me if ya’ can see it so I know where ya’ are.”

“Yeah, I hear you. Go ahead.”

Heath held his breath as he slung the rope over the boulder he’d been lying on, waiting to hear if Nick could see it.

“It’s about five or six feet to my left,” he finally heard Nick call up to him.

“How far down are ya’?”

“I can’t look straight up too easy but near as I can tell about twenty-five feet. Don’t you try to come down here, boy! Just toss the rope!”

“I ain’t stupid, Nick!” Heath couldn’t believe he was getting mad at him when he was just trying to help him. “I just wanna be sure the rope is long enough to reach ya’!”

He pulled the rope up, climbed past a couple boulders, and tossed it over again.

“Can ya’ see it, Nick?”

“Yeah, it’s about two inches in front of my nose. Guess you’re better at rope tossing than I am at canteen tossing,” Nick tried to joke as his way of apologizing for yelling a moment before.

“Can ya’ tie it around ya’?”

“I don’t have the footing to be able to do that. Heath, I’m just gonna have to hold on and you’re gonna have to pull until I can get my footing.”

That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. It would have been easier if the rope was secure around Nick. He’d have felt safe moving away and letting Coco do the pulling. Without that security, Heath would have to pull him up himself. It wasn’t that he didn’t think he could do it. He knew he could. He was just worried about Nick hanging in until Heath could grab ahold of him.

“Tell me when you’re ready,” Heath called down to him as he sat back, resting against a boulder and bracing his left foot against another. His heart was still beating furiously and he took several deep breaths, trying to slow it down. He wouldn’t have been surprised to hear that, as fast as it was pounding, Nick’s was beating twice as fast and twice as loud as his.

“I’m ready,” he heard Nick yell. “PULL!”

“Oh, god…” he groaned as he began pulling on the rope to start Nick on his upward journey. So this was the downside of those big Barkley meals! When he’d first started eating with the family he couldn’t believe the sheer volume of food placed on the table – and he never would have imagined there was a downside. But the weight on the end of the rope surely proved that there was.

“HOLD IT!” he heard Nick yell and stopped pulling, easing up only slightly as he waited for Nick’s instruction. “I need a little slack,” Nick called. “I’m under a ledge and need to move sideways a couple feet.”

Heath let a bit of the rope slide through his hands before tightening his grip again and waiting. He tried to shake the thought from his mind but he couldn’t help wondering if they’d think HE pushed NICK off the mountain if Nick lost his grip. No, he shook his head … it wasn’t even tempting.

“Heath? Heath, what are you waiting for?”

“I’m waitin’ for ya’ to tell me to pull again,” Heath complained. “I ain’t exactly perfected the art of readin’ minds.”

“We’ll work on that sometime later,” Nick said through clenched teeth. “PULL!”

He did and it was easier now with Nick out from under the shelter of the ledge he’d come to rest beneath. Nick was able to climb as Heath pulled him in and it wasn’t more than a minute or two before Heath saw Nick’s hand grip the edge of the rocks in front of him. He kept pulling until both of Nick’s arms were above the edge then he leaned forward, gripped his arms, and pulled him the rest of the way over the top. Hazel eyes met blue eyes and Nick fell back against a boulder as he thought, for the first time, that those were Barkley eyes looking at him.

Heath stared at him questioningly, waiting for him to say something … anything … so he’d know Nick was okay. But, for a moment, words failed Nick as all he could think was that he didn’t want those eyes to be Barkley eyes. He didn’t want this man to be Tom Barkley’s son. He didn’t want to know that his father had a son who’d grown up in abysmal conditions because he’d neglected him. Who’d worked in a mine when he was six and gone off to fight in a war when he was fourteen. He didn’t want to be nice to this blue-eyed cowboy who suddenly reminded him of his Uncle John because by doing so he irrationally believed he’d be endorsing his story. And he didn’t want to do that.

So instead of thanking him for his help he growled, “Took you long enough!”

The blue eyes that only moments before had expressed relief, changed in an instant to something Nick couldn’t quite read. It wasn’t anger. Or hurt. It was … resignation, maybe. But the words Nick heard conveyed the hurt that the eyes were reluctant to reveal.

“I shoulda let go when I thought about it,” Heath muttered as he stood up and threw the rope he’d started to recoil at Nick. “We need to get movin’ or we won’t get to Walker Lake tomorrow.”

He turned his back and walked away, leaving Nick to get shakily to his feet on his own. By the time Nick was able to join him, Heath had retrieved his hat and the canteens and was tightening the cinch on Magic’s saddle.

“You okay?” Heath looked over Magic’s saddle at him.

“Fine,” Nick sounded subdued. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Heath mounted Magic and reached for Buster’s lead line. “I’da done the same for anyone,” he brushed him off as he and Magic moved out with Buster following.

Nick tied the recoiled rope to Coco’s saddle, checked the cinch, then mounted up and followed Heath as they continued on their way. They rested their horses twice more as they traveled down out of the Sierra Nevada, across a river valley, and then began their ascent of the smaller Wassuk Range. When they stopped for the night, they were still in the mountains and made camp next to a small stream that came down from the higher elevations. Except for a very few necessary words, they spent the night in uncompanionable silence.

* * * * *

The tension from the day before was still with them when they awoke the next morning. And even though Nick considered Heath to be the most silent man he’d ever met, for some reason the silence this day was unnerving to him – maybe because it gave him time to think about things that he’d found unthinkable only a couple days before. They were underway early and had already reached the mountain summit by seven o’clock. As he watched the rays of the rising sun grace the clear blue lake in the distance below, Nick realized that sometime in the last twenty-four hours he’d come to accept that there was a very good possibility that Heath WAS his brother. As determined as he’d been not to accept that, he had to admit that he’d seen and heard enough in Strawberry to believe that his father had done more that just pass through town on a visit to the mine. You didn’t just casually sit down and have your picture taken with someone you didn’t know so it was obvious that Father had known Heath’s mother – and in all likelihood, he’d known her well.

But all the rest of it made no sense. If Heath was his son, why would Father have let him grow up in such poverty? When Heath first arrived at the ranch, Nick hadn’t wanted to believe his mother when she claimed that one of the reasons she believed Heath was because she’d known about the affair. Now, he could only wonder, if she HAD known – then what could Father have been afraid of? The affair itself was the sin; not the child that resulted from that affair. Why would he lie about that part of it if Mother already knew about the liaison?

But then it occurred to him – maybe his father wasn’t the one who had lied. Maybe Heath’s mother was the one who’d lied. And maybe his father had seen through it. That had to be it! Leah Thomson had told him that Heath was his son and, somehow, Father had exposed the lie! Of course he wouldn’t have wanted to tell anyone about it if he knew it was a lie. Human nature was such that there were those who’d prefer to believe the lie. So once he’d dealt with her, he didn’t tell anyone about it – including Mother. But … that didn’t make sense either because Father told Mother everything. If Leah Thomson had tried to blackmail his father by saying that Heath was his son, he would have told Mother about it. Especially since she knew about the affair. And when Heath showed up claiming to be a Barkley, she wouldn’t have welcomed him into the family. At the very least, if she thought he was a victim himself, she’d have just sent him packing. But if she thought he was intentionally using the lie to try to get something from them, she’d have had him arrested.

So, what did he know … and what did it all mean? Well, he knew that his mother had been aware of the affair. He no longer had a reason not to believe that. She’d welcomed Heath into their home so the blackmail scenario probably wasn’t right. But she WAS surprised when he arrived so Father never told her about Heath. And that still didn’t make any sense. Oh, he needed to talk to Jarrod about this.

Heath, meanwhile, rode ahead of Nick, lost in his own world of thoughts. If he could turn back time, knowing what he knew now he’d never have told Nick that he’d come to the ranch because Tom Barkley was his father. Not even when Nick threatened to beat it out of him. His life had been pretty good before all that came out. He had a good job – the fact that it was on his family’s ranch wasn’t a problem because he was the only one who knew. And better than having a good job, he was getting to know his brother – even though his brother didn’t know that.

Having no practical experience in being a brother, just working with Nick had been good enough for him. He’d thought of it as an added bonus when Audra had found him sitting under a tree at twilight and sat down to talk. It had become a nightly ritual and he’d found himself looking forward to their talks, as he got progressively closer to a sister who wasn’t yet aware of their relationship. There had even been times with Eugene when they’d been working together and Eugene would tell him about his plans to go to medical school. He’d felt an almost big-brotherly pride as he listened to the younger man’s hopes for his future. But it had all ended too soon. He’d been there only a week when Nick had dragged him out of the bunkhouse and confronted him. And all because Nick had seen how quickly he’d drawn his gun and killed a snake. He’d said Heath handled a gun too well to be a regular ranch hand. Well, he didn’t handle a gun any better than Nick did but that seemed to escape Nick’s notice. Yeah, if he could turn back time, he’d tell them anything but the truth.

Before all that had happened he’d thought, perhaps foolishly, that he would be able to settle in at the Barkley Ranch for a good long time. But now that he’d made up his mind that he was going to leave, there was a sense of peace at having told Mama about his decision and feeling that he had her blessing. Still, if he were being honest with himself, he wasn’t really sure that he wanted to leave. For a time yesterday, he thought he might have even changed his mind about that. They’d had a tense moment when he’d argued with Nick that Tom Barkley wasn’t a great man – and looking back on it he figured that probably hadn’t been a smart thing to do. Not the way Nick felt about his father. But they seemed to have gotten past it. There definitely was a truce in effect before they stopped for lunch. And during lunch, Heath almost got the impression that Nick was beginning to accept him as his brother. When he said that ‘Father’ wouldn’t have let him join the army, it sure sounded like he was saying it brother to brother. But then Nick stared at him so intently after he said it that Heath was the one to brush it off – like it didn’t matter to him. Of course it mattered to him! He might not like the idea of being Tom Barkley’s son because he had good reason to hate the man. But he didn’t mind being Nick Barkley’s brother.

Nick lost sight of Walker Lake as they followed a mountain pass that would take them down into the high desert valley that was home to the lake. It had looked deceptively close from their vantage point in the foothills but he figured they still had about five or six miles to go before they reached the lake’s shore. He’d been thinking about stopping there ever since Jarrod had reminded him that Walker Lake was the site of a camping and fishing trip he and Nick had taken with their father when Nick was thirteen and Jarrod was seventeen. Nick hadn’t remembered that it was Walker Lake but he remembered the trip over the mountains. He remembered feasting on trout so big that a single fish could feed all three of them. And he remembered that they’d made the trip after Father and Jarrod returned from a cattledrive and it was on that camping trip that Father had promised that he’d be included on the crew for the drive the following year. Before they’d left on that trip, he’d thought that the best part of it was that school had just started and he was going to miss a week of it. By the time they got home he hadn’t minded going back to school because his father’s promise gave him something to look forward to.

Heath stopped to give Nick a chance to catch up to him and when he’d ridden close enough to hear him, Heath asked, “Are we headin’ straight for this ranch? ‘Cause if we are, you’re gonna have to take the lead. I don’t know where we’re goin’ from here.”

“It’s not hard to find according to Jarrod. He was there with Father about seven years ago. He said the main house is set on a rise about a half-mile from the lake. I figure if we head south along the shore we’ll eventually find it. We can rest the horses when we get to the lake,” he suggested. “It would be a good place to stop for lunch.”

“Ya’ in the mood for trout?” Heath asked him.

“Did Jarrod tell you about that?” Nick sounded surprised.

“No – why would Jarrod and me be talkin’ about trout?” Heath frowned at the question.

“We were camping here with Father about fifteen years ago. Biggest trout I’ve ever seen are in that lake,” Nick told him.

“They’re in the river that feeds into it, too. I think it’s called the Walker River. It loops up north of the lake and then over to the west and back south. It mighta been the river we crossed yesterday. The north loop is about thirty miles from George Russell’s ranch. Me and some of the guys rode over there for the fishin’. George’s spread is right on the Carson River and the fishin’ ain’t bad there – but I’ve never seen trout like we pulled outta that river.”

“Yeah,” Nick nodded, “we only needed one for the three of us. If we caught one big enough, Father would make us stop. Said there was no point in pulling fish outta the lake if we weren’t gonna eat ‘em. It got to be a real competition to see who could land our meal,” Nick remembered with a smile. He looked over at Heath and asked, “Did you happen to pack any fishing poles?”

“I ‘spect ya’ might find a couple in there.”

“Are YOU in the mood for trout?” Nick repeated Heath’s question of a minute before.

“Well, why do ya’ think I packed the fishin’ poles?”

Neither needed to say another word. They both nudged their horses forward and headed for the shore of Walker Lake.

Heath let Nick do the fishing while he got the fire ready. He reasoned that it was Nick’s memory, not his, and he let Nick enjoy the moment. Ten minutes after casting his line, Nick came back carrying a fish that was easily big enough for both of them.

“Hey, Nick, when ya’ had that competition of yours,” Heath asked innocently, “did it include cleanin’ the fish?”

“Yeah, whoever caught it had to … oh, that’s low! I might just decide not to share this fish.”

“I might just decide not to share the fryin’ pan and fire,” Heath countered.

“In some cultures they eat it without cooking it,” Nick said as if it didn’t matter to him.

“Ain’t never seen a cowboy from Stockton do that,” Heath said in the same uncaring tone. “Might be interestin’ to watch.”

Nick took a deep breath and let it out loudly before saying, “I think I’ll fold before all my money’s on the table. I’ll clean it, you can cook it, and we’ll both eat it.”

“Works for me,” Heath tried without much success to hide the slight laugh in his voice. “While you’re cleanin’ the fish I’ll even make the coffee as part of my share of the deal.”

Nick looked at the campfire where a pot of coffee already seemed to be heating. “What’s that?” he gestured at it.

“It’s the coffee I’ll be makin’ while you’re cleanin’ the fish. Think I’ll take a quick nap while you’re preparin’ it,” he leaned back against a rock and tilted his hat down over his eyes, just as he’d done on the mountain the day before.

“Maybe I’ll just cook it myself. And I MIGHT remember to wake you up,” Nick played his trump card.

Heath lifted his hat for a moment and looked over at Nick. “Ya’ will if ya’ wanna know where I put the fryin’ pan while ya’ were fishin’.” With a grin he lowered his hat and listened to Nick mutter words that he NEVER would have used in front of his mother.

* * * * *

Figuring they couldn’t have been more than four or five miles from the O’Leary Ranch, they lingered over lunch. Heath listened without saying a word as Nick spent the time reminiscing about his previous visit to the area. He painted the sort of picture that Heath had never even dared to dream as a boy – nor a man for that matter. Even if Tom Barkley had been alive when Heath found out that he was his father, he couldn’t imagine that they’d ever have had the sort of relationship Nick talked about. Surely, he thought, there must have been something good about Tom Barkley if Nick could feel the way he did about him. But Nick’s feelings about his father weren’t going to change Heath’s memories of a lifetime of struggle caused by the same man’s absence. It was that thought more than anything that renewed Heath’s resolve to leave Stockton when he and Nick got back to the ranch. When a man was lucky enough to have someone to look up to that way, it would be almost criminal to take it away from him. And Heath was convinced that, if he remained in Stockton, someday Nick would admit that Heath was telling the truth and it would come close to destroying him as Nick reconciled the man he knew with the man who left a child and his unwed mother to live a life of poverty and persecution in a dying town.

They were almost finished when Nick looked over and studied Heath for a moment before getting his attention by speaking his name. Maintaining his silence, Heath just looked at him questioningly.

“About – yesterday,” Nick seemed to hesitate. “Well – I’m sorry.”

“About what yesterday?” Heath’s look was still a questioning one.

“When you pulled me up and I sounded like I was mad at you,” Nick told him. “I wasn’t.”

“Didn’t really figure ya’ were – unless, of course, ya’ were TRYIN’ to fall off the mountain and didn’t wanna be rescued.”

“I guess I was just mad that I HAD fallen off the mountain.”

“Yeah, that would probably make anyone mad,” Heath nodded.

“Well – I’m sorry I didn’t thank you. I shoulda. So – thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Heath responded simply.

“You about finished? If we pack up and get movin’ we should probably make the O’Leary Ranch by three o’clock.”

They packed their gear and got underway, this time riding side-by-side as they found themselves in more open terrain than they’d been in previously. They still rode in silence, still both lost in their own thoughts, but Nick’s thoughts were far different than those he’d had only that morning. He found himself casting sideways glances at Heath, thinking Jarrod could have been right. Saturday morning he’d laughed at Jarrod’s suggestion that maybe time would change the way he felt about Heath. He remembered telling him that two weeks together would likely have them wanting to kill each other. Well, that had only been three days ago and he certainly didn’t feel that way anymore. He wouldn’t go so far as to say he felt brotherly towards him – but he could see that it might not be so bad having him around. With Jarrod and Eugene both having no interest in ranching, it might be nice to have someone to take part of the load off his shoulders – someone who shared his work ethic. The only bad part about it was having to tell Jarrod that maybe he was right.

Nick’s estimate of how long it would take to reach the O’Leary Ranch had been almost exact. It was just short of three o’clock when they followed a dirt road towards a house and stable that certainly had seen better days. Neither said it but both Nick and Heath wondered if the condition of the yard and buildings was typical of what they’d find in the stock they’d come to look at.

As they dismounted next to a corral with a couple horses in it, a man came out of the stable to greet them. Jarrod had described O’Leary as a short, thin Irishman with curly red hair and dark blue eyes, so when Nick asked for Daniel O’Leary, he wasn’t surprised when the man replied, “I’m Dan.”

“Nick Barkley,” he said as he reached out to shake O’Leary’s hand.

“You made good time,” O’Leary suggested.

“Well, Heath’s familiar with the mountains so I let him find his way and I just followed along,” Nick joked.

Heath had been tying Buster and Magic to a hitching rail and joined them as Nick was telling of his familiarity with the mountains. O’Leary turned his attention to the blond cowboy, reaching out to shake his hand. “Dan O’Leary,” he introduced himself.

Nick felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach when he heard Heath’s reply. As Heath shook the offered hand he said simply, “Heath Thomson.”

Chapter 8

“Nick,” Heath said almost disgustedly as they leaned on the top rail of the corral looking over some horses O’Leary had suggested they might be interested in, “he ain’t got nothin’ but cow ponies here. Tell me we didn’t come all this way to look at cow ponies.”

“His telegram said breeding stock,” Nick sort of shrugged.

“Mighta been a good idea to ask what he was breedin’.”

“You could at least reserve judgement ‘til you see what he’s bringing out of the stable,” Nick suggested.

They both turned to face the stable, leaning back against the corral, arms folded across their chests, as O’Leary came out leading a palomino.

“Ya’ ain’t thinkin’ of breedin’ palominos, are ya’, Nick?” Heath laughed as he looked over at him in a way that suggested he thought Nick was crazy.

“Maybe,” was all Nick would say. “What if I am?”

“There ain’t no such thing as breedin’ palominos,” Heath shook his head. “No way of knowin’ what ya’ll get.”

“Seems to me if you breed a momma palomino to a daddy palomino you’ll get a baby palomino,” Nick stated as though it should be obvious.

“Ya’ ever known anyone who tried to breed ‘em?”

“Can’t rightly say that I have.”

“Well, your first problem, Nick, is that ya’ ain’t got a momma palomino. And even if ya’ did have one to complete the pair, ya’ could just as easily get a chestnut out of ‘em. Then all ya’ got is a brown cow pony. Why don’t ya’ ask Dan how many of the horses in that corral came from tryin’ to breed palominos,” Heath pointed back over his shoulder at the corral.

Something in the way Heath said it made Nick believe that the younger man knew what he was talking about so he asked O’Leary about the horses in the corral. As it turned out, two of the six horses had been hoped for palominos. Both were unremarkable chestnuts.

Nick asked if he had anything other than a palomino to show them and O’Leary reluctantly admitted that he’d sold the rest of his breeding stock just two days before. The only other horse he had for them to look at was another palomino stallion. As good-looking as the horse was, even if he’d had a mare to sell with it, Nick would have passed. He’d lost interest as soon as he found that there were no guarantees about the foals they’d produce. When O’Leary took the horse back to the stable, Nick just shook his head and muttered, “What a wasted trip. Four days ago he promised us first look then he sells ‘em two days later. Might as well head out to Mason Valley and see if Jarrod has had word from Russell or Franklin. We’ve still got enough light to travel for a couple hours.”

Mason Valley was about forty miles from the O’Leary Ranch. It had the closest telegraph office and Jarrod had promised to wire them there to let them know if they should continue on to Carson City or Reno. If George Russell had something for them to look at, they’d already be halfway to Carson City. If there was no reason to go to Carson City, it was only a day and a half to Reno. And if, as Nick hoped, he told them to return to Stockton, they wouldn’t have gone too far out of their way.

They stayed long enough to have a drink with their host then excused themselves, explaining about their plan to get to Mason Valley early the next afternoon. Heath couldn’t help but think that their departure came none too soon as they retraced their route along the dirt road that had taken them to the ranch. He could see that Nick was trying to control his anger at finding that the stock they’d traveled three days to see had been sold to someone else. He didn’t realize that he’d also fueled Nick’s anger by the way he’d introduced himself to Dan O’Leary. Having initially been stunned upon hearing the introduction, Nick had been doing a slow burn over it ever since he’d accepted that he really HAD heard him say ‘Heath Thomson’.

They traveled about a mile with Heath listening to Nick mumble about ‘first looks’ and ‘breeding stock’ and ‘cow ponies’. And he knew he heard ‘waste of time’ and ‘better things to do’ somewhere in there. Trying to shake Nick out of his bad mood, Heath suggested, “Ya’ can’t really blame him, Nick. How was he to know he’d get back from sendin’ the telegram and someone would be waitin’ to buy what he’d promised us a look at? He wants to go back East. He prob’ly panicked – wondered if he’d still have that offer if we got here and didn’t want any of his stock. It ain’t like he had the chance to stop us – he’s a day away from the telegraph office,” he reminded the dark-haired cowboy.

“THOMSON!” Nick suddenly exploded, looking over at him angrily. “HEATH THOMSON! WHAT WAS THAT ALL ABOUT?”

Heath was taken aback by the abrupt attack. “It’s my name, Nick. It’s been my name for almost 24 years.”

“IT WASN’T YOUR NAME THREE DAYS AGO!” Nick argued.

Heath looked over at him for a long, silent moment before saying, “Nick, it don’t make sense to trade on the name of a man I never knew. ‘Specially since I’ll be leavin’ the ranch soon. What’s the point of sayin’ I’m Heath Barkley today when I’ll be Heath Thomson once this trip is over? B’sides, Nick, ya’ know what I found out about Heath Barkley in the past couple weeks?” Without waiting for an answer he said, “The only difference in the way people talk about Heath Barkley and Heath Thomson is that when the name is Barkley they talk behind my back because they don’t wanna offend the Barkley family. When the name is Thomson, at least they say what they gotta say to my face. I’d rather hear ‘em say it than wonder if they are.”

“Well, it just doesn’t make sense! There’s nothing wrong with the name ‘Heath Barkley’.”

“There ain’t nothin’ wrong with the name ‘Heath Thomson’, neither,” Heath said softly.

Nick took in a deep breath that he let out slowly as he realized that Heath had a point. “No,” he had to agree, “there’s nothing wrong with Heath Thomson, either.” After a moment, during which they both just seemed to be studying each other, Nick suggested, “We should probably get moving if we want to make that break in the mountains O’Leary told us about. Should be a good place to stop for the night.”

They followed the shore of Walker Lake north for a couple hours before making camp for the night just as the last bit of light from the setting sun faded behind the Wassuk Mountains. They were close to the northern edge of the lake, not far from where the Walker River fed into it. To the west they could see that the mountains faded into a flat desert valley that spanned as much as two miles before the mountains once more emerged from the earth. It wasn’t the most direct route to Mason Valley; that would have been over the mountains. But it was the fastest route as it eliminated the need to go up and over.

Dinner came out of Buster’s pack and was prepared and eaten in the same silence that characterized most of the meals they’d eaten on their trip. Nick had just cleaned his plate for the second time when he decided that the cover of darkness was exactly what he needed to pose a question to Heath that he’d been considering for the past couple hours. So he took a quick breath and asked, “These people who talk behind your back so they won’t offend the Barkley family – do they work for the Barkley family?”

Heath only laughed at the naiveté of the question.

“Don’t laugh it off,” Nick almost ordered. “I really want to know.”

“No ya’ don’t. Ya’ haven’t wanted to know since I arrived at the ranch.”

“Well, I wanna know now.”

“Why?”

“Well…” Nick thought about how to explain it, “if that’s what’s happening … and that’s why you’re leaving … well, you know, Mother’s gonna be real upset to hear that you’re leaving. And if there’s something I can do to change that…”

“That’s not what ya’ said a couple days ago,” Heath reminded him. “A couple days ago ya’ weren’t gonna try to talk me out of it. I really think ya’ oughta just leave it at that ‘cause it ain’t got nothin’ to do with why I’m leavin’. Whoever’s talkin’ ain’t doin’ nothin’ new. I’ve spent my life listenin’ to it, Nick. Mama spent my life listenin’ to it. And you and I ain’t gonna stop it by talkin’ about it.”

“Okay…” Nick decided to leave that subject for a later time and changed the subject by suggesting, “then … how ‘bout telling me how you knew that some of those chestnuts back at O’Leary’s place came from palominos.”

When Heath laughed this time it was with genuine amusement. “I worked for a guy just outside of Arizona City – what they’re now callin’ Yuma – a couple years ago who tried to breed palominos. When he actually got one, he went out and got drunk for three days. Said if he’d known when he started out that the horse was a crossbreed he never woulda bought the first pair. With mixed blood they don’t breed true – you can just as easily get a chestnut or an albino as a palomino. There ain’t really nothin’ wrong with the foals you get – unless you’re breedin’ ‘em for their color.”

“That’s what sets ‘em apart from any other horse. No point in breeding ‘em if we can’t be sure that’s what we’d get. So what were you doing down near Arizona City?” Nick asked just to keep the conversation going.

“I … had to get outta Mexico … kinda fast,” Heath admitted and, from his tone of voice, Nick knew the memory made him smile. “I had a difference of opinion with a man over a woman down in Nogales. I had to leave sudden-like to preserve my well-bein’.”

“Why? Was it his wife?”

“NO! I don’t fool around with married women!” Heath said indignantly. “Leastways, not knowin’ly.” After a moment he added reluctantly, “It was his daughter.”

“Underage?”

“What kinda man do ya’ think I am!” he wanted to know. “She was nineteen. But I guess he just didn’t warm to the idea of a bunch of blue-eyed grandchildren. Not that I was really that serious but I ‘spect she was which is prob’ly why he sent the message he did.”

“Which was?” Nick asked, exasperated at having to keep prompting him for information.

“That he was gonna give me an hour’s head start.”

“So what happened?”

“I headed north. Good thing Nogales is right on the border. I knew they wouldn’t follow me outta Mexico – and, believe me, I got outta there fast.”

“So how’d you end up in Arizona City?”

“I went north as far as Tucson and hooked up with some guy who said there was work over in Arizona City. We were only a day outta Tucson when he changed his mind and headed north lookin’ for some new town he’d heard about called Phoenix. Said it sounded like a place where a man could put down roots – bein’ a new town and all. Well, I figured I’d never heard of it so I wasn’t gonna go lookin’ for it and headed off myself. Got a job at a ranch for a while.”

“Why’d you leave?”

“It got too almighty hot down there.”

“Temperature-wise? Or father-wise?” Nick laughed, thinking he was joking.

“Yeah,” was the only reply Heath found necessary.

Nick was still laughing as he asked, “You ever plan on settling down?”

“Someday, I s’pose. Ev’ryone wants a place to settle down.”

“I suppose they do,” Nick agreed, “but there was a time I wanted to head out and do just about anything but settle down.”

“Why would ya’ wanna do that?”

“I had a hard time settling back in when I got home from the war. After everything else it was just hard to come back and pick up where I’d left off like nothing had happened. You must know how it was.”

“I didn’t exactly go home and pick up where I left off,” Heath said without elaborating.

“And that’s what I wanted,” Nick thought he meant that he’d struck out on his own to see the country. “I love the ranch – don’t get me wrong about that – but I wanted to be sure there wasn’t something else out there that I was supposed to be doing. As much as I’ve always loved ranching, I wanted to know I wasn’t meant to be a sailor – or a shopkeeper – or a lawman.”

“Trust me, Nick, you weren’t meant to be a lawman,” Heath laughed at the idea.

“But I would have liked to find that out on my own.”

“The ranch didn’t stop Jarrod or Eugene from knowin’ they wanted somethin’ else – and goin’ after it,” Heath pointed out.

“Oh, Jarrod had a bit of a fight on his hands,” Nick told him. “Father just assumed we’d all run the ranch together someday and he wasn’t real happy to find that Jarrod had other ideas. But Jarrod had Mother and Grandfather on his side – and Father still had me and Gene – so he gave in.”

“But then Gene decided he wasn’t a rancher.”

“By then I was running the ranch. Gene was still pretty young when Father was killed but I think we all knew he wasn’t gonna be a rancher long before that. It never has been the issue that it was with Jarrod.”

“It didn’t sound that way on Saturday,” Heath suggested. “As I recall ya’ claimed that he believed my story so he’d have someone to do the job he should be doin’. Sounded like ya’ don’t want him goin’ off to school.”

“I didn’t know you heard that.”

“It woulda been hard for anyone in the house not to hear ya’.”

“Well, I didn’t mean it that way,” Nick said half-heartedly.

“Ain’t a lotta different ways to take that, Nick. Ya’ wanna ask me again if the people talkin’ behind my back work for the Barkleys?”

After an uncomfortable few seconds Nick said, “I guess there isn’t any way to answer that.”

“Nick, ya’ wanna blame everyone ‘cept the people ya’ should be blamin’. Ya’ wanna blame me for bein’ born. Ya’ wanna blame Eugene for believin’ me and Jarrod for tryin’ to be a brother to me. Ya’ even wanna blame Audra and your mother for tryin’ to make me part of the family. The only ones to blame are your father and my mother. And the only differences between us when it comes to them is that I believe my mother and you don’t. And I hate your father for leavin’ Mama to raise me alone and ya’ll never believe that he did. What do ya’ think’ll change if ya’ believe your father was as human as any other man mighta been? Ya’ still got a fine home and a big ranch and nothin’ he did will change that.”

Nick wasn’t ready to tell him that he’d already started questioning that. He didn’t want him to know that he’d seen the picture in Strawberry nor that, in subtle ways, Heath was beginning to remind him of his father and his uncle. Ever since Heath had told him that Tom Barkley was his father, he’d done everything he could not to work with him – or interact with him – because before that revelation, Nick had actually like him. And then in an instant he hated him. Now he was afraid if that hate diminished it would be transferred to his father. And he didn’t want to hate Tom Barkley because he was so often compared to him. And if his father was the sort of man he could hate…

“I think I’ll go rinse these dishes off,” Nick picked up their plates as he stood up and then disappeared into the darkness towards the lake.

Nick’s actions didn’t surprise Heath. He’d been walking away from it ever since Heath had claimed he was Tom Barkley’s son. Heath figured it was his turn to walk away. Nick could have his ranch. Mrs. Barkley could have her memories. And he could get on with the business of finding out what he was supposed to be doing in this world. He knew that Nick was hoping that the telegram waiting for them from Jarrod in Mason Valley would find them heading back to Stockton rather than on to Carson City or Reno. Heath now found himself wishing for the same thing. He just wanted to get on with his life and it was clear that he wasn’t going to be able to do that on the Barkley Ranch.

He heard something behind him – a thud – the sound of metal clattering – something – that made him turn around and squint into the darkness. He didn’t see anything nor hear anything further but instinct said it wasn’t the usual night noises that he’d heard.

“Nick?” he called out.

There was no reply.

He took a torch-like branch that hadn’t yet been tossed in the fire and lit the end of it before getting up and following the path Nick had taken towards the lake. He’d only gone about fifty feet when he stopped at the sight of Nick sitting on the ground just ahead of him with his back to Heath. The plates were on the ground a couple feet away.

“Nick?” he asked and still got no reply.

He took a couple steps closer then stopped abruptly when he heard an all too familiar noise.

“Nick…” he said softly, “tell me that noise ain’t what I think it is. Tell me you’re just havin’ fun and that’s a baby’s rattle you’re shakin’.”

He saw Nick slowly shake his head back and forth.

“I didn’t think so…”

Chapter 9

“Nick,” Heath spoke quietly, “where’s the snake right now?”

Nick replied in the same sort of quiet voice Heath was using as he said, “On that rock about five feet in front of me.”

Heath moved forward with slow, deliberate steps until he was standing just behind Nick. As he crouched down he asked, “Where’d it bite ya’?”

“It didn’t bite me.”

“Then what’re ya’ doin’ on the ground?” Heath’s voice rose.

“I was walking along and heard the rattle … and I stepped backwards and tripped.”

The blond laughed. “You’re doin’ a lotta that lately, Nick! I swear you’re tryin’ to do somethin’ to make ‘em think I killed ya’!”

“I’m not the one who put the snake there!”

“Yeah, I kinda figured that. But ya’ do know that snake is more afraid of us … right?”

“Yes,” came the indignant reply.

“It’s only rattlin’ to keep ya’ away.”

“I know,” Nick said emphatically. He reached over to pick up the plates, never taking his eyes off the snake that was coiled on the rock and barely visible. “But when I heard it rattling, I didn’t know it was on the rock. For all I knew it coulda been right at my feet.”

“Ya’ know,” Heath peered over at the reptile, “I could almost be tempted to kill it and have it for breakfast tomorrow. But seein’ as how it’s provided today’s amusement, I’m feelin’ kindly towards it.”

“What do you mean – today’s amusement?”

“It’s just one more thing to write down so I’ll remember to tell the crew about it when we get back to the ranch,” Heath stood up and began to back away from Nick, the rock and the snake.

Nick scrambled to his feet, the plates in his hand, and hurried after him. “You’re writin’ this stuff down!”

“I don’t wanna forget any of it, Nick,” Heath said innocently. Then he indicated the plates and asked, “Ya’ want me to go back and rinse those for ya’?”

“I said I was gonna do it,” Nick grumbled.

“Ya’ want the torch?” Heath held it out to him.

“I don’t need the … uh … yeah, I’ll take the torch,” Nick took it from him. As Nick turned away to head to the lake and Heath turned to go back to their campfire, Heath heard the dark-haired cowboy trying to convince himself, “He’s not writing anything down…”

There was nothing that could have wiped the grin off Heath’s face as darkness separated them.

* * * * *

They were up before dawn the next morning and fishing for trout as they watched the first pink glow of a new day grace the horizon.

“Nick, ya’ read much poetry?” Heath tore his gaze away from the sunrise to look over at him.

Nick thought about it for a moment before he asked, suspiciously, “Is this something you’re gonna write down so you can tell the crew about it when we get back to Stockton?”

“No,” Heath laughed. “I was just thinkin’ about Mama.”

“Oh,” Nick nodded. “Well … then … I’m kinda partial to Tennyson.”

“Don’t think I ever heard of him,” Heath shook his head. “When I was a boy, Mama used to read to me from a book of sonnets by William Shakespeare. She musta liked Greek poets, too. She was fond of gettin’ me outta bed in the mornin’ by sayin’ … ‘The dawn speeds a man on his journey and speeds him too in his work.’ She said it was written by a Greek poet named Hesiod. When I was young I thought she was sayin’ I was a man for getting’ up and goin’ to work ev’ry mornin’. By the time I was twelve or thirteen I was more inclined to believe it meant if we could just slow down the dawn, Mama and I might have a little more time to do somethin’ other than work.”

“Never thought of you as a man who wanted to slow down the dawn,” Nick observed. “You’re more likely to greet it than any man I know.”

“Well, that’s ‘cause now it makes me think of Mama. She said this other Greek poet, Homer, used to call the goddess of dawn ‘rosy-fingered dawn’. Mama loved that rosy color that’s right there on the horizon,” Heath reflected. After a moment he asked, “Is Tennyson what ya’ were readin’ last night?”

“I thought you were asleep.”

“I’m a light sleeper.”

“You heard me reading to myself?” Nick asked drily.

“I heard ya’ get up to take the book outta your saddlebag. Never imagined ya’ as one to read poetry, Nick.”

“Well, this is different. It’s not just poetry – it’s also a story. Jarrod gave me a book of Tennyson when I joined the army. It was ‘The Charge of the Light Brigade’ about a British cavalry unit. I don’t know how many times I read that while I was gone. I carried it with me everywhere. When I got home that book was so beat up it was almost unreadable – but I still have that one on my shelf. And a lot more besides, now.”

“What’s the one ya’ were readin’ last night?”

“It’s one I missed. It’s called ‘Enoch Arden’.”

“What’s it about?”

“It’s about a sailor who gets shipwrecked and everyone thinks he’s dead. He finally gets home after ten years and finds out his wife got married again,” Nick related.

“Well, what happens?”

“I haven’t finished reading it yet,” Nick shook his head. And then he offered, “You can read it when I’m done, though, if you want.”

Heath wasn’t sure he’d be around that long but, still, he appreciated the offer so he said, simply, “Sure, Nick. Thanks.”

Nick was about to respond when two simultaneous tugs were felt on their fishing lines. Tugs that broke the spell of the moment and brought them back to a more immediate matter – breakfast. And a competition to see who could land their meal.

* * * * *

The town of Mason Valley was a tiny community that boasted a livery stable and blacksmith shop, a general store, two saloons, a hotel and, of course, the post office that lured them to town. Even though Nick had to admit that Heath’s company wasn’t as objectionable as he’d expected it to be, he was still hoping that the telegram waiting at the post office would tell them there was no need to proceed to Carson City or Reno. After leaving Walker Lake empty-handed, he had to wonder if staying in Nevada any longer would make the trip worthwhile.

Mason Valley’s two saloons were at opposite ends of the single road that ran through the small town. As they rode past the first, Heath suggested stopping for a drink. He tried to rationalize to Nick that it wasn’t even mid-afternoon yet and certainly the post office would still be open in another half hour. But Nick had his eyes set on a building just down the street. The sign hanging out front proclaimed it the ‘Mason Valley Post Office and Telegraph’ and nothing was going to deter him from making that their first stop. They tied all three horses to a hitching rail at the side of the building and went into the post office together to find out where Jarrod was sending them.

It was a little room with two side-by-side counters. One had a sign identifying it as the post office and the other had a similar sign declaring it to be the telegraph office. A gray-haired man in a white shirt, string tie and a brown vest stood behind the post office counter and eyed them almost suspiciously as they walked in. Nick crossed the room in three strides and told the man he was there to pick up a telegram. With a quick jerk of his head, the man indicated the other counter.

Nick looked over at the second counter; there was no one there. He turned and rolled his eyes at Heath who was still standing by the door.

“Well, Nick, it appears you’re at the post office,” Heath just shrugged, trying not to laugh at Nick’s expression. “I think ya’ prob’ly need to go next door to the telegraph office.”

It was only two steps but Nick still hesitated, debating with himself whether he should just demand his telegram or give in and take those two steps. He knew Heath would be expecting his temper to win out. So he moved to the other counter and looked at the older man expectantly. As he’d supposed, the postal employee transformed himself into a telegraph operator simply by moving from one counter to the other.

“Can I help you?” he said his first words since they’d walked in.

“My name is Nick Barkley. My brother was sending a telegram here for you to hold for me.”

He opened a drawer behind the counter and took out a folded piece of paper. “It arrived two days ago, Mr. Barkley.”

Nick thanked him, tossed a coin on the counter, and exited the building with the paper still folded in his hand.

“What does he say?” Heath asked, following on his heels.

They stopped in the shade of the wooden awning that hung over the front of the building and Nick opened the page to read, “Franklin leaving for St. Louis Friday. Stock available if you reach Reno by Thursday 6 pm. Russell advises new herd awaiting your arrival in Carson City.” Nick frowned as he considered this news. “It’s Wednesday, isn’t it?” he asked Heath who merely nodded. “Well, that settles it then. We can’t make Reno by 6 pm tomorrow. Let’s go have a drink and figure out who we need to reply to.”

Before they left the shelter of the shaded porch, Nick opened the door of the post office and asked the man, “How late are you open?”

“I lock the door precisely at six – but if you need to send a reply after that I live right out back.”

Nick started to pull the door closed but thought of something else he should ask. “If I want a drink of real whiskey, which saloon should I go to?”

“You want the one at the north end of town,” the man stated unequivocally. Then he explained, “The owner of the other one buys it by the barrel and waters it down. When it starts to get too weak he adds a few plugs of chewing tobacco for flavoring. The locals have been drinking it so long they don’t even notice – but if you’re used to real whiskey it tastes like poison.”

“Much obliged,” Nick tipped his hat to the man.

* * * * *

They were sitting at a small table in the saloon at the north end of town, a bottle of whiskey between them and a half-full glass in front of each, when Heath suggested, “If ya’ wanna get to Reno to see what Jack Franklin has, there might be a way to do it.”

Nick decided there was no point in telling Heath how crazy that sounded because so far he’d been right about the routes he’d chosen for them. So he simply asked, “How?”

“I figure we’re only about thirty-five miles from Carson City. If we leave here now and head in that direction we could prob’ly make the Pine Nut Mountains b’fore we lose the light. There’s a place we can cross that ain’t too high and it’s only a couple miles wide. If we start out at first light tomorrow we could make that crossin’ and be in Carson City easy before noon. Then it depends on the train schedule between Carson City and Reno – but I’d be willin’ to bet we could find a schedule at the post office right here in town. And if we can catch a train in Carson City we could leave the horses in the livery there. It’s only a couple hours to Reno by train.”

Nick looked surprised to be admitting, “That just might work. I’d hate to come all this way and NOT see what he’s got. Jack has a reputation for having prime stock.” He picked up the bottle of whiskey and topped off each of their glasses before saying, “Drink up. We’ve got a train schedule to check.”

The postal clerk – or was it the telegraph operator – produced a train schedule that listed a 12:30 departure from Carson City for Reno. They figured they could get there with time to spare if they did reach the Pine Nut Mountains by nightfall and then crossed the small mountain range in the morning. With Carson City only a few hours beyond that, neither hesitated to agree that they’d make it. So while Heath took the horses in search of water, Nick returned to the telegraph office.

The first telegram he sent was to Jack Franklin in Reno. It advised that they’d be on the Thursday afternoon train from Carson City and would be at his ranch by late afternoon. And, regardless of whether they’d need it or not, they’d decided to spend Friday in Reno and catch the 9 a.m. train back to Carson City on Saturday. So, the second telegram was to George Russell telling him they’d be at his ranch on Saturday afternoon. The third telegram was to Jarrod letting him know where they were and where they were going. Nick reread each telegram before handing them one at a time to the operator. The ones to Franklin and Russell went as originally written. He added an extra line to Jarrod’s before handing it over then waited while the man determined the charge for all three.

As Nick paid him, the old man commented, “So you’re headin’ right back out, huh?”

“Only way we’ll get to Reno in time.”

“Are you planning to take Como Pass through the mountains? Quickest way through.”

“I don’t rightly know,” Nick shook his head. “My little brother used to work in the area and he seems to know where we’re going. Will those telegrams be going out right away?”

“I’ll be sending them before you’re out the door.”

“If you wouldn’t mind sending the one to Stockton first, I’d be much obliged. We might have a chance to catch our brother before he leaves his office for the day.”

“It’ll be the first one I send. You have a safe journey, Mr. Barkley.”

If he hadn’t been in Heath’s company during their entire stay in Mason Valley, he might have suspected him of prompting the man to wish him a safe journey. Heath seemed to be getting a great deal of enjoyment out of Nick’s misfortunes on this trip. But he knew Heath hadn’t had the chance to talk to the postal clerk privately and, besides, the sentiment had seemed genuine enough. So Nick thanked him, tipped his hat, and left the building in search of Heath.

* * * * *

Carson City was west-northwest of Mason Valley and they were at least a half hour into that part of their journey when Nick thought to ask Heath about the route they were taking. “Are we going through Como Pass?”

“Ya’ been here before, Nick?”

“No, the man at the telegraph office said it’s the quickest way over the mountains. Just wondered if that’s the way we’re heading.”

“Seein’ as how it’s the quickest way, it seemed to be a good idea.”

“You been through there?”

“Got to know them mountains pretty well workin’ for George. A lotta wild horses in the area.”

“Are you still thinking about talking to him about a job?” Nick asked, trying to sound as though he didn’t really care one way or the other.

“I’m thinkin’ on it.”

And Nick, having mentioned Como Pass, was thinking about the conversation he’d had with the man at the telegraph office. He wouldn’t swear to it – but he was pretty sure he’d called Heath his ‘little brother’. That blond cowboy was beginning to grow on him, he realized. A smile tugged at his mouth as he thought about having a brother at his side, running the ranch – and he didn’t mind at all that it was Heath he envisioned as his partner.

Heath looked over and, seeing the smile, thought Nick was agreeing that talking to George about that job was a good idea. Of course Nick would think it was a good idea, Heath mused. Out of sight, out of mind. If that’s what Nick wanted – if that’s what would make him happy – then that’s what he’d do.

* * * * *

The Barkley Ranch

Wednesday evening…

“Who was at the door, Jarrod?” Victoria Barkley asked as her eldest son rejoined the family after responding to a knock at their front door.

When he’d left the room, his mother and sister were watching Eugene as he studied the balls on the billiards table. He was still contemplating his shot when Jarrod returned to announce, “Nick must have received my telegram. That was Bobby from the office in town bringing a reply.”

He unfolded the paper Bobby had delivered, laughing as he finished reading it.

“What does he say?” Audra laughed with him, despite the fact that she didn’t know what was making him laugh.

“He says… ” Jarrod looked down at the paper, “Walker Lake a waste of time. Arrived Mason Valley today and departing for Carson City. Catching noon train for Reno tomorrow. Will arrive Franklin Ranch late afternoon. Returning to Carson City Saturday.”

“That didn’t sound so funny,” Audra frowned.

“I was laughing at the last line,” Jarrod told her. “I think we got part of someone else’s telegram mixed in with ours.”

“Why? What does it say?” Eugene asked, taking the paper out of Jarrod’s hand. When he’d read it, he said with a laugh, “I think you’re right. Nick isn’t one to wax philosophic – especially in a telegram that strangers are going to read.”

“Well what does it say?" Audra demanded.

Eugene walked over and handed the telegram to her so she could read it for herself. She read it silently, smiling as she finished.

“Would one of you please tell me what it says so I may join in the joke,” Victoria instructed her children.

Audra read it aloud for the benefit of her mother. “It just says … a picture is worth a thousand words.”

Chapter 10

Carson City, Nevada’s state capital, had changed a lot since Nick had last seen it. Five years before when he’d been there, the rail line to Virginia City extended out of town but hadn’t yet hooked up with the line being laid from the northeast. And the line to Reno was but a dream. The Capitol Building was still to be built and, although the U.S. Congress had passed a bill in 1862 establishing a branch mint in Nevada, it didn’t yet exist. The lumber business was in its infancy and the gold and silver from the Comstock Lode were transported to San Francisco for minting.

But that had been 1868 and Carson City had still been a frontier town, its residents lured by the riches of the Comstock. In just five short years, fine sandstone and brick buildings had risen as a result of that wealth. Some were built of necessity – the Capitol and the U.S. Mint Building. Some – the churches and schools – were built to serve the families that populated the town even as the Nevada Orphan’s Home was built to care for the growing number of parentless children in the area. Mansions had been built as indulgences while ornate hotels, dance halls, saloons and gambling casinos had sprung up to empty the pockets of visitors to the booming town.

Rising from the city into the Sierra Nevada was a twelve-mile flume that carried pine logs down from the mountain-based lumber camps to the Carson Tahoe Lumber and Fluming Company, a business whose lumberyard occupied half a square mile of land. The lumberyard was served by its own spur line from the Virginia and Truckee Railroad. And the same railroad had lines that now extended from Carson City to Virginia City – and to Reno where those lines connected with the transcontinental railroad.

It was all new to Nick but an old friend to Heath and the dark-haired cowboy couldn’t help but note the gleam in the younger man’s eyes as they reached the easternmost outskirts of town. He noted it – and regretted that his less-than-friendly welcome only weeks before might find Heath returning to the growing metropolis when their journey was over.

“So I guess you know where the livery stable is?” he asked as they rode side-by-side past the first of the many dance halls they would see.

“There are a few,” Heath said, taking a watch from his pocket. After checking the time he suggested, “Since we have plenty of time to make the train, I figured to pick the one farthest from the depot and the lumberyard.”

“Why? You in the mood to walk?”

“Don’t actually mind the walk – but I’m thinkin’ more about the noise. Those trains blow their whistle ev’ry time they pull out. And b’fore they get to the depot, the ones from the lumberyard blow ‘em ev’ry time they come to one of the roads that crosses the tracks. By the time we get back we’d have horses inclined to murder us at the first opportunity if we left ‘em anywhere near all that noise and activity.”

“Shoulda known you’d be thinking about the horses and not the humans.”

“Well, Nick if ya’ mind walkin’, I’ll take the horses and put ‘em up while you get our tickets. The depot’s only a few blocks north of here. Just up that way,” he gestured towards the street they were passing.

“No, I didn’t mean that,” Nick said quickly. “I just meant … well … you always take good care of your horses. It was meant as a compliment.”

“No wonder I didn’t recognize it,” Heath teased softly.

“Don’t get used to it,” Nick responded with mock gruffness.

“I don’t guess I plan to,” Heath assured him.

Again Nick felt the pang of regret that he didn’t seem to be able to say or do the right thing to make Heath change his mind about leaving the Barkley Ranch. Well, he told himself, he still had time on his side and maybe Heath would get the idea before they got back to Stockton.

Nick could hear trains to the north of their location so he wasn’t surprised when Heath eventually turned Magic south down a road that was half the width of the one that had lead them into town. They rode past three side streets before Heath stopped in front of a building whose sign identified it as ‘McNulty’s Livery and Farrier’. It was a well-maintained wooden structure, in appearance much like the main stable on the Barkley Ranch. Set back from the street, its double front doors were both open and latched back against the surface of the building. To the side was a corral large enough for the horses it housed to get some exercise. They could hear the sound of metal clanging on metal as they tied their horses to the hitching rail and approached the entrance. The clanging stopped as they entered the building and they watched the proprietor plunge a pair of metal tongs holding a horseshoe into a barrel of water. The red-hot metal hissed as it hit the water and steam swirled around the top of the barrel.

Only when the now-cooled horseshoe was extracted from the water and placed on a wooden block next to his anvil did the man look up at them. Almost instantly, his face broke into a wide grin and he dropped his hammer and tongs to stride purposefully in their direction. Except for the grin, Nick would have been tempted to back away from the giant of a man. Easily several inches taller than Nick he probably outweighed him by a good fifty to sixty pounds and was maybe ten to twelve years older. And his massive arms bore testimony to the work they did. Those same arms encircled Heath, lifting him off his feet in a bear hug that could have been lethal in the right arena.

But it was clear that this hug was applied with a friendly affection as the man set the blond cowboy down, gripped him by the upper arms and exclaimed, “Well, look what the cat drug in! How ya’ doin’, boy? I thought ya’ musta struck it rich and headed off for some fancy Eastern city!”

“No, Mac, just … thought it was time to move on,” Heath’s reply came with a smile unlike any Nick had witnessed from him. “Impressive sign ya’ got out front. So now you’re a farrier, huh?”

“Got enough business shoein’ horses that I put away the rest of my smithin’ tools. So how ya’ doin’, kid?” he asked again.

“Doin’ just fine,” Heath responded simply. “You and Clara?”

The man laughed. “We got a little one runnin’ around since you left. Clara will want ya’ to come to supper.”

“I’d like to but we’re headin’ off to catch the train to Reno,” Heath told him and then remembered his manners. “Mac, this is Nick Barkley from Stockton.”

“Timothy McNulty,” he introduced himself as he gave Nick’s hand a vigorous shake. “Call me Mac.”

Nick agreed with just a nod of his head as he said, “Pleased to meet you.”

“Is that Barkley as in … the Barkley Ranch?”

“That’s right,” Nick replied cautiously, not sure from his tone if Mac thought the Barkley Ranch was a good thing or a bad thing.

But it appeared he was only asking to collect more information about his friend because he turned his attention back to Heath and asked, “So is that where ya’ settled? Stockton?”

“Not sure I’ve settled anywhere just yet,” Heath shrugged.

“Oh, kid, I’ve never known anyone so young who’s done so much traveling. Ya’ need to find yourself a woman and settle down. Or is that what you’re goin’ to Reno for? Are ya’ followin’ Sally?”

“No, I’m not followin’ Sally!” he said quickly. “I didn’t even know she was up there. If ya’ know where to find her, I’ll do my best to steer clear.”

“Don’t rightly know, kid. Sorry,” Mac just laughed. “So if it’s not Sally you’re after, what is it?”

“Horses. Nick is lookin’ for some breedin’ stock to add to their bloodline. We’re headin’ up to see what Jack Franklin has.”

“Ya’ can’t do any better in Reno than Jack Franklin,” Mac told Nick.

“So I’ve heard,” Nick agreed. “We’d like to leave our horses here while we’re gone if you’ve got room.”

“Of course I got room. And if I didn’t, I’d put some out for the boy here. They don’t come finer.”

“I’m not gonna argue with you on that,” Nick shook his head.

“That’s because you’re bigger than he is,” Heath said in a whisper to Mac, who laughed and slapped Heath on the back as they all went outside to get the horses.

“I see ya’ finally wised up and got yourself a real horse!” Mac said when he got a look at the three horses.

“I still got my Modoc!” Heath said indignantly. “She’s just nursin’ a sore leg so I left her in Stockton. And she’s still the best workin’ horse around,” he defended the little horse.

“So you’ve always said,” Mac chuckled. “Let’s get the horses settled then I’ll give ya’ a ride to the depot. I’ve got an order to pick up at the feed store.”

“Ya’ just made a friend for life,” Heath suggested. “Nick didn’t wanna walk anyway.”

“I never said that! But I’m not gonna turn down the ride either,” Nick admitted. “We’ll be back on Saturday,” he told Mac. “They’ll probably need to be re-shod before we return. They’ve been doin’ some mountain climbin’.”

“I’ll take care of it. And I’ll treat ‘em like they were my own.”

“We couldn’t ask for better than that,” Heath smiled at his old friend.

Nick sensed the same friendly affection in those words that he’d seen in the bear hug that had been given in greeting. He found himself silently thanking Jarrod for pushing him into this trip. He was learning more about Heath every day and he wasn’t too proud to admit that he was ready to eat his words. But he really hated it when Jarrod was right.

* * * * *

They’d bought their tickets and still had a bit more than an hour before the train would depart, so lunch became a priority. With several restaurants to choose from in the immediate area, they decided to merely cross the street and take the first one in their path. It was a good choice as they enjoyed a lunch of roast beef and potatoes, washed down with mugs of ice-cold beer.

They were just polishing off some apple pie when Nick asked, “So who’s Sally?”

“Who?” Heath asked innocently.

“Sally? The woman Mac thinks you’re goin’ to Reno to see.”

“Believe me, the last person I wanna see in Reno is Sally.”

“Who is she?” Nick demanded.

“An older woman,” Heath grinned slightly. “She fancied herself a teacher of younger men. She tended to get possessive.”

“But was she a good teacher?”

“The lessons were … lacking in imagination.”

“So the student became the teacher?”

“Not exactly,” Heath laughed. “The student went lookin’ for someone else and Sally didn’t appreciate that too much.”

“Well, what happened?”

“Ya’ mean after someone got the gun away from her?”

“The gun!”

“She shot up a dance hall when she found me talkin’ to one of the ladies. She got thirty days in jail.”

“And when she got out?”

“I’d gone back to Strawberry by then. I don’t really know,” he shook his head. “But, I gotta tell ya’, Nick – while we’re in Reno – if I just suddenly turn and run – ya’ might wanna do the same.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Nick laughed slightly. But then the sound of a train whistle made him ask, “How much time do we have?”

Heath pulled out his pocket watch and flipped it open to check the time. “About twenty minutes.”

Nick looked at the watch in Heath’s hand. “You need a new watch,” he suggested. “That one looks like it’s seen better days.”

“I’m not givin’ this one up! Mama gave it to me when I got back from the war. She said it was a family watch. It saved my life.”

“The watch saved your life?” Nick asked skeptically.

“It did!” Heath insisted. “Ya’ see this,” he handed it to Nick, pointing out a deep dent in the back of the watch. “That’s from a bullet that hit me a few years back.”

“You can’t leave it at that! What happened?”

“I was workin’ in Santa Fe and hooked up with a couple families that wanted to get down to Tucson. I signed on to get ‘em there. A couple days outta Santa Fe we ran into three men who wanted to relieve us of our worldly goods. They took a shot at me b’fore we even saw ‘em. I went flyin’ off my horse and they came ridin’ up thinkin’ they were pretty safe.”

“And --?”

“Well, it was them or us. Once the bullets started flyin’ I didn’t have a lotta choices. I guess we were lucky ‘cause the only hit we took was that one that hit the watch. And I gotta tell ya’, it hurt like hell and left a bruise about the size of my fist but it didn’t even break the skin. And that watch never stopped workin’. I wouldn’t part with it now if it was the difference between food and starvin’.”

Nick studied the watch carefully. It did, indeed, look like a dent from a bullet. He turned it over and noted the letter ‘T’ engraved on the cover. It was oddly familiar – and then he realized why. His Uncle John had a watch just like it, except his had the initial ‘J’ on it. And according to his uncle, his father had also been given such a watch – with a ‘T’ on it. Nick could remember a visit his uncle made to Stockton when Nick was about fourteen. They were all out on the range and his father asked what time it was. His uncle teased him for having lost his watch several years before and his father had gotten mad and said he’d heard quite enough teasing about that lost watch. Something told Nick he was holding that lost watch in his hand. A family watch. Surely Heath had always believed the ‘T’ was for Thomson – not Thomas. He wondered if Heath would have accepted the watch from his mother if he’d known the truth.

It was with mixed feelings that Nick handed the watch back to Heath and departed with him to catch their train. He was thankful that his father had, apparently, given the watch to Leah Thomson for their son – because that watch seemed to have saved his life. But it confused him even more. His father had cared enough to leave some sort of remembrance for him – and then seemed not to care at all. How could his father possibly have thought that a pocket watch could make up for years of neglect, abuse, and poverty?

That WASN’T the Tom Barkley he’d known! How could he ever convince Heath that there was a reason to stay in Stockton if he could no longer convince himself that his father was the man he always thought him to be?

* * * * *

The train trip to Reno followed the Virginia City line for a short time after they left Carson City but headed north only a few miles out of town while the original rail line continued to the northeast. The tracks paralleled the eastern shore of Washoe Lake on a more or less straight course for Reno. It was a ride that took less than two hours.

Nick and Heath took seats facing each other, both with a window seat and Nick riding backwards. There were only six other people in the railcar with them, all traveling in pairs and each duo seated a respectable distance from the others. Their early conversation was about the scenery they viewed from their windows but about halfway through the journey Nick asked, “Do you mind if I ask a kinda personal question?”

Heath smiled slightly. “Ya’d ask even if I said no.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Nick sounded sincere. “If you don’t want me to ask, I won’t.”

“Well, I suppose ya’ can always ask,” Heath considered it. “I just won’t promise to answer until I hear the question.”

“Fair enough,” Nick nodded. Then he fell silent as he tried to decide how to phrase it. “Okay – I was wondering – Mac called you ‘boy’ and he called you ‘kid’ – and you didn’t seem to mind. So why do you get mad when I say it?”

Heath had to think about it for a while before he told him, “I don’t know if this’ll make sense, Nick – but when Mac says ‘boy’ – what I hear is ‘Heath’ or ‘friend’ or somethin’ like that. When YOU say ‘boy’ – all I hear ya’ say is ‘boy’.”

Nick frowned as he thought about that then just slowly nodded his head and they both went back to looking out their windows. But Nick’s mind was back in Carson City. He was trying to remember how Mac had said ‘boy’ because he figured he’d have to learn to say it the same way if he was ever going to make Heath feel like a part of the Barkley family. There was just too much to learn about this boy, he thought. And then he wondered if he’d just thought the word ‘boy’ the way Mac would have thought the word ‘boy’. Oh, it was just too complicated to figure out right now.

Heath took a quick glance over at Nick and noticed that he still had that frown on his face. Just what he needed. Just when he thought they were starting to get along he had to go and make Nick mad. He’d never figure that man out! Why’d Nick even have to ask if he didn’t really want to hear the answer? More and more on this trip he was just looking forward to getting it over with so he could move on to whatever life had waiting for him. And he was pretty sure after only a short time there that Carson City figured in those plans. At least for a time.

Chapter 11

The Central Pacific Railroad first rolled through the area that was called Lake’s Crossing in March of 1868. Just fourteen months later the rail line from the west met up with the Union Pacific’s line from the east at Promontory Summit in Utah and the first transcontinental railway was a reality. With the help of the recently discovered wealth in the nearby Comstock, the rail depot that had been established at Lake’s Crossing quickly grew into a small community. But unlike Carson City, which was already an established town when the Comstock Lode was discovered, Lake’s Crossing began as a seed in the imagination of Myron Lake, the visionary who’d bought the river crossing and later lured the railroad to his site. Land in the tiny community was divided into lots that were auctioned off and a town was born. A town that was renamed Reno in honor of General Jesse Lee Reno, a hero of the War Between the States.

Even with such humble beginnings, just five years after the railroad reached it, Reno was beginning to mirror what could be seen in Carson City. Mansions, hotels, gambling casinos and numerous businesses large and small populated its streets. Countless pioneers who had been ‘just passing through’ had chosen to stay and put down roots in the thriving community. And those lucky few who’d been there when the railroad arrived and the Comstock gave up her bounty saw their personal wealth grow. Jack Franklin was one of those fortunate few.

An established rancher in the area, the almost overnight affluence had allowed Franklin to diversify as the Barkleys and many other ranchers had before him. He had shares in a number of mines and operated a logging camp in the Sierra Nevada – but his real love was his ranch and it was obvious from even a cursory glimpse of the Franklin Ranch that he was a man who took his ranching seriously. Nick and Heath had acquired horses at a local livery when they arrived in Reno and had set out from town towards the west, following the road that ran along the southern bank of the Truckee River. Their first indication that they’d reached the ranch was a stone entry arch on a road that ran perpendicular to the river road. A mile beyond the entryway was an impressively sprawling ranch house built of the same mortar and stone as the archway that had steered them towards it.

As they got closer, they could see at least four corrals constructed of sturdy, whitewashed planks. Two large stables each opened into both the yard in front of it and one of the corrals at its side. A dozen or so horses were divided among the corrals and even from a distance it was apparent that they were looking at premium horseflesh. Nick had been there five years before but any resemblance to what the ranch had once been certainly was unintended. The entire property reflected the newfound prosperity of the region.

“Looks like we came to the right place,” Heath observed as they dismounted and he gazed at a stallion alone in the nearest corral. “I don’t know how much you’re plannin’ to spend, Nick, but ya’ want that stallion.”

“Do I?” Nick asked, looking over at the animal.

“If you’re smart, ya’ do,” Heath turned his gaze on Nick.

“Don’t you think we should at least get a closer look?”

“If ya’ think ya’ need it,” Heath shrugged. “Won’t make any difference. If it’s for sale, you’re gonna leave here ownin’ it.”

“I guess we’ll find out,” Nick dismissed the suggestion as his attention focused on a man approaching from one of the stables.

Jack Franklin was a man of about fifty-five, taller than Heath but shorter than Nick. His hair was graying with age and he walked with the slightly crooked gait of a man who’d been thrown from one too many horses in his younger years. He approached them with his hand outstretched and greeted Nick in a thunderous voice that rivaled Nick’s own.

“Nick! Good to see you! Wasn’t sure you’d make it when I first got Jarrod’s telegram. I was glad to get yours and find that you’d worked things out. You won’t regret making the trip! I’ve got some prime breeding stock that I’d sooner sell to you than send off to the army.”

His forceful handshake would have brought a lesser man to his knees but Nick seemed to accept it as a competition and responded just as heartily. “How are you, Jack? You and your ranch look like you’re doing well.”

“Don’t worry – I’m not doing any better than the Barkleys,” Jack laughed. “I see you got your eye on The Phantom there.”

“The Phantom?” Nick asked.

“That’s what we called him until we caught him. I swear we’d chase him into a box canyon – and even with no way out he’d be gone when we got there,” Jack said only half-jokingly. “I ended up wanting him more because we couldn’t catch him than because I really wanted him.”

“How’d ya’ finally catch him?” Heath’s quiet question was almost lost amongst the booming voices.

Nick and Jack both glanced at him as though neither had realized he was there. But Nick recovered quickly, remembering that protocol dictated an introduction. And mindful of Heath’s preference when meeting Daniel O’Leary, Nick said, “Jack, this is Heath Thomson. Heath, Jack Franklin.”

A shrewd businessman who had an uncanny knack for assessing a new acquaintance, Jack gave Heath a handshake that was firm but less forceful than the one he’d applied to Nick’s hand. His brow furrowed as he studied Heath for a moment. Then he asked, “Have we met somewhere, son?”

“We mighta bumped into each other at last spring’s Carson Valley Rodeo,” Heath suggested. “I was ridin’ for George Russell then.”

“Oh – right – I remember you!” he slapped the younger man on the shoulder. “You weren’t just riding for George. You were winning! My men won that title three years in a row – until George latched onto you,” he said and Heath saw the surprised look on Nick’s face. “So how’d you hook up with the Barkleys?”

Heath took a moment to figure out how to explain it before saying, “I … had to go back to California for family reasons.”

“And once he was back there,” Nick took a step closer, “he found his way to Stockton.”

“If he does everything as well as he rides a bronc and ropes a steer, you’ve got yourself a top hand,” Jack stated firmly.

“Don’t know anyone who works harder than Heath,” Nick agreed. “So how DID you finally catch that stallion?”

“I wasn’t there when the boys caught him. They said they were in the right place at the right time. You like the looks of him, huh?”

“Is it gonna cost me more if I admit that I do?” Nick laughed.

“You – and your father before you – have always dealt fair with me. I wouldn’t want that to change. I’ll quote you a fair price on anything you want that might be for sale.”

“Is that one for sale?” Heath was the one to ask.

“It very well could be.”

“You mind if I go in there and get a closer look at him?”

Jack laughed. “You want to get into the corral with him?”

“I expect he probably does,” Nick told him.

“And you don’t have a problem with him stepping inside that corral with a wild stallion?”

“I think he knows what he’s doing,” Nick shrugged.

“Alright. But if you don’t mind,” he told Heath, “I think I’ll stay close by in case you need someone to pull you outta there right fast”.

“Don’t mind at all – long as you and Nick don’t mind keepin’ the noise at somethin’ less than a rumble,” Heath smiled very slightly.

Jack laughed loudly. “Son, I’d be willing to bet money that you and Nick have butted heads a time or two,” he put an arm around Heath’s shoulders as he directed him towards the corral. “The quiet ones are always the most dangerous. Aren’t they, Nick?” he looked back at the dark-haired cowboy.

“Oh, I think Heath could be dangerous if he wanted to be,” Nick came up alongside them. “But he’s also a pretty good one to have around when danger comes calling in other forms.”

“And I don’t doubt that you know that from personal experience,” Jack seemed to agree. “Well, son,” he released his grip on Heath, having delivered him to the corral, “you wanna show me what you think you can do with that horse?”

While Nick and Jack took up a position right there, leaning on the top rail of the fence, Heath walked around to the side of the corral and climbed over the fence to sit on the top rail, facing the horse. He waited while the horse reared up in the center of the corral and then ran in circles around its outer reaches, almost brushing against Heath as he sprinted past him. He made three circuits of the corral before stopping at the far end and watching almost warily as Heath dropped to the ground and took several steps towards the middle of the enclosure. The blond cowboy was, perhaps, ten feet into the corral when the steed resumed its circular path and Heath stopped, letting him pass behind him. But this time, after only a single run around the corral, the horse took up its former position in the center, facing Heath as one would face an adversary.

“I don’t mean to intrude,” Heath said in that soft way he used when speaking to a horse as he gentled it, “but you’re one of the more magnificent animals I’ve seen in my life and I was hopin’ ya’ wouldn’t mind if I got a closer look.”

He took a couple steps closer and the horse tossed his head but didn’t otherwise move.

“Ya’ don’t know it,” Heath continued talking to the stallion, “but I’m getting’ more than a little pleasure from bein’ able to keep Nick quiet for a few minutes while you and I talk. That’s him over there,” he glanced for just a moment in Nick’s direction. “He has what some like to call a commandin’ voice,” he took another couple steps closer, “but it can get to be tiresome when it’s the only one around to listen to. I think he’s found a rival, though,” his laugh was as soft as his speech.

Heath continued talking to the horse in a voice so quiet that neither of the men watching could hear him. As Jack observed man and beast he spoke in a tone just as discreet as he said to Nick, “Don’t that beat all. I’ve been ranching for a long time and haven’t seen anyone work a horse that quickly. I’ve seen men gentle-break horses but that boy has a gift.”

“He does have a way with them,” Nick’s voice was also low.

“How does he do it?”

“I don’t exactly know. He hasn’t been at the ranch very long. I really haven’t had the time to talk to him about it.”

“You won’t mind if I ask him, will you? I’ve always been curious about what that connection is.”

“No, I don’t mind,” Nick shook his head.

“You’re not thinking of letting him go anytime soon, are you?”

“No,” Nick laughed.

“If you do, send him my way.”

“I think George Russell would be his first choice if he left Stockton.”

“If you’re smart, Nick, you won’t let him get away. With that kinda talent, your father would have offered him top pay to keep him on the Barkley Ranch,” Jack suggested.

Nick looked over at him silently for several seconds – assessing the older man – trying to decide if he dared to discuss with him the question that was on his mind. Finally, after they’d watched Heath and the stallion for another quiet moment, Nick asked him, “Did you know my father very well?”

“I suppose as well as you can know anyone you only saw every three or four years. We sat down over a few beers every now and then.”

“How long ago did you meet?”

“Don’t recall what year it was,” Jack shook his head, “but it was about a month after he moved your family into the house you’re in now.”

“Would you say he was a man who took care of his family?”

“You know he was, Nick,” Jack said dismissively. “Why would you even question that?”

“I wouldn’t have a couple months ago.” The dark-haired cowboy took a deep breath and got to what was really on his mind. “But it turns out I got a brother I never knew about – and my father let him grow up under conditions I can’t even imagine. He had to go to work when he was six years old to help his mother put food on the table and I don’t know how my father could have allowed that.”

“Maybe he didn’t know about him,” Jack suggested. “Or maybe this boy isn’t his son. Nick, I’ve spent a night or two myself with a saloon girl and if one of them was with child I don’t know how they’d know who the father was. I sure wouldn’t jump to the conclusion it was me.”

“She wasn’t a saloon girl,” Nick looked over to be sure Heath was still far enough away that he couldn’t hear them. “And it was more than one night. I’ve seen a picture that was taken of them together. Mother even says she knew of Father’s indiscretion – but she didn’t know there was a child until he showed up at the ranch.”

“And that’s how you found out about him?”

Nick nodded. “His mother died and I guess the last thing she told him was who his father was. He didn’t know any more than we did.”

“So is he settling in – or did you send him packing?”

“I wanted to send him packing,” Nick admitted, “but the rest of the family had other ideas. Now that I’m hoping he’ll settle in – I’ve got the feeling he’ll be leaving when we get back to Stockton.”

Jack eyes got wide for a moment. “Are you talking about…” he looked into the corral, “…Heath?”

Nick just nodded.

“He’s Tom’s son?”

“Yeah,” Nick confirmed. “If it had been my choice, I’d have kicked him off the ranch the day he showed up. Now I don’t know how to get him to stay,” he confessed.

They both looked towards Heath and the horse where actual contact was being made. Heath had reached out his hand and the stallion almost playfully nudged it away. And then, to Jack’s amazement, the horse took a step towards Heath and let the cowboy rub his hand down the front of his face to his nose. Heath took the next step, slightly to the side, and ran his hand along the horse’s neck.

“Oh, you are a beauty,” Heath breathed out, “and I wouldn’t mind spendin’ a bit more time with ya’ but I don’t doubt that Nick is about to bust holdin’ all that noise in. I hope to spend some more time with ya’ real soon,” he patted the horse’s neck and started to back away.

The horse began to follow him and when Heath stopped, the stallion gave him a nudge in the chest. Then, satisfied with this last exchange, the horse turned and trotted away to a water trough in the far corner of the corral. Heath slowly walked back to the spot at which he’d entered the corral and climbed back over the fence.

In front of the corral, Jack called one of his hands over and asked him to show Nick the horses in the back corral. “Like I said,” the older man reminded Nick, “I want to talk to Heath about what he just did in there. It was quite remarkable.”

“It is even after you’ve seen it a few times,” Nick agreed. “I’ll want him to look at anything I might consider buying so I’d be obliged if you’d bring him along when you’re done talking. The family is hoping to put Heath in charge of our breeding operations.”

“We’ll be right behind you, I’m sure,” Jack assured him.

As Nick departed with the ranch hand, Heath rounded the corner of the corral and rejoined Jack.

“Son, that was amazing,” the older man breathed out. “Is that something you learned to do – or did you just know how to do it?”

“I guess if it’s one or the other, I just know how to do it. I’ve kinda had a way with horses all my life. I started workin’ in the livery when I was a boy and I just seemed to get along with the horses better than some people,” the blond admitted.

“So it’s not something you can teach a man to do?”

“Well – you can teach a man to gentle a horse,” Heath considered it, “but not every man. I sure wouldn’t like to try teachin’ Nick to do it,” he laughed. “His personality is a bit too forceful.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it,” Jack smiled. “I’ve seen men gentle a horse but I haven’t seen any make that connection quite as quickly as you just did. I gotta tell you – if old Tom could see you now, he’d be mighty proud of you,” he said without thinking about it.

After a moment of surprise, Heath responded, “I don’t know what Nick told ya’ – and I certainly don’t mean to offend ya’, Mr. Franklin – but Tom Barkley didn’t give a thought to me or my mother as she was raisin’ me on her own in a minin’ town. So I really don’t give a damn what Tom Barkley would think of me right now.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you either, son. I’m sorry. I can surely understand that you wouldn’t care what he might think of you.” When Heath said nothing in reply, Jack decided to take the chance and inquired, “Do you mind if I ask – do you care what your brother thinks of you?”

Heath started laughing. “If ya’ mean Nick, I know what he thinks of me. He wants me off the ranch and outta his life yesterday.”

“That’s not what he said to me,” Jack shook his head. “He told me he wants to put you in charge of the Barkley’s horse breeding operation.”

“The rest of the family might want that,” Heath conceded. “But I’ve just spent five days ridin’ the countryside with Nick and we’ve done more talkin’ in those five days than we managed in almost five weeks b’fore that. And if there’s one thing I know, it’s that Nick wants me to leave as much as I want to leave.”

“Do you really want to leave the Barkley Ranch?”

“I think it’s the right thing to do.”

“But is it what you want?”

“Don’t see that there’s a whole lotta difference there,” Heath shook his head.

“There’s a world of difference, son,” Jack put a fatherly arm around his shoulders as he guided him in the direction Nick and the ranch hand had taken. “I don’t think you want to leave any more than Nick wants you to leave – and you both need to talk about that.”

“If Nick wants to talk about it all he’s gotta do is start talkin’. He’s never had any trouble doin’ that,” Heath sort of joked.

They reached the back corral and Heath joined Nick as he studied the horses confined inside it. Jack stood back and watched as the two cowboys debated the finer points of the horses in the corral. He could only wonder why Tom would have neglected that boy who seemed to have grown into a fine young man. He saw Nick put a hand on Heath’s shoulder as he directed his attention to an almost-black stallion on the far side of the corral. There was no way, he thought, that either of them really knew how the other felt about Heath’s future with the Barkley family.

Jack Franklin had always believed that he owed Tom Barkley for giving him his start as a rancher. Tom had purchased several horses from Jack and then recommended him to a purchasing agent for the army. The resulting contract gave him the money to buy his land in the Truckee Meadows. As he’d told Nick, he and Tom had seen each other every three or four years. And while that certainly wasn’t enough contact to know the man as well as he’d like to have known him, he thought it was often enough to know that Tom Barkley was an honorable man. For whatever reason, Tom had a son he’d failed to acknowledge but he couldn’t believe that the elder Barkley would have wanted his family to reject him once they’d all found each other.

Perhaps, Jack thought, he could finally repay Tom Barkley for giving him his start in ranching by finding some way to give his sons a start at being brothers. He knew Heath probably wouldn’t agree, but he was sure that’s what Tom would have wanted. He had only hours to work with … but maybe he could come up with something.

Chapter 12

Jack Franklin had been disappointed to find that he wasn’t going to have the chance to sit down and talk to both Nick and Heath over supper that night. After selling the two men five horses – The Phantom plus two other stallions and two mares – he listened as the brothers agreed that Nick could take care of further arrangements and there was no need for Heath to remain in Reno. It seemed, Jack learned, that while they were in Carson City, Nick had heard a friend of Heath’s – someone named Mac – invite the blond cowboy to spend some time with him and his family if he got back to town sooner than expected. So after they’d settled on a price for the horses – and after being sure they weren’t going to have to get the animals back to California themselves – Nick had sent Heath on his way with the promise that they’d meet at the train depot in Carson City on Saturday morning.

“Heath’s a fine young man,” Jack said when they were leaving the stable after turning Nick’s horse over to one of the ranch hands.

“I’ll have to admit that I’m surprised to be agreeing with you, Jack,” Nick laughed.

“Why is that?”

“Well … just five days ago I was predicting that during this trip one of us was gonna kill the other,” Nick related as they crossed the yard towards the back door of the house.

“WHAT!”

“Oh, Jack, you know how Jarrod can be,” Nick said disgustedly. “Sometimes he’s far too logical for us to have a reasonable discussion.”

“I think Jarrod might say you’re far too ILLOGICAL to have a reasonable discussion,” Jack countered.

“Either way it comes out the same,” Nick dismissed the suggestion, knowing Jack intended no offense. “Jarrod told me that he thought two weeks together would convince me that Heath was my brother.”

“You weren’t convinced of that?” Jack pulled the door open and invited Nick in.

“Jack, don’t get me wrong. I liked Heath when he came to work at the ranch. I truly have never met a man who works harder. But there was something about him that I knew he was holding back,” Nick stated. “I thought it was that he worked for the railroad and I confronted him with it. We got into a fight and he finally told me he was there because Tom Barkley was his father. Would you believe some man who rode in here and told you he was your brother?”

Jack laughed. “Knowing my father – I might,” he conceded. “But having known Tom Barkley I can understand how you’d be skeptical.”

“Skeptical is putting it mildly,” Nick could smile at that now. “I wanted to throw him off the ranch without any discussion of the matter. But, like I told you, Mother knew that there’d been a woman in Father’s past – when we were kids – before Audra and Gene were born – and she wanted to hear what Heath had to say. I wasn’t ready to see it at the time but now I can see that there are family resemblances that she recognized in Heath.”

“So what changed?” Jack asked as he led Nick into a room decorated with sturdy pine furniture and rich dark colors. It was in sharp contrast to the more delicate décor of the two other rooms they’d walked through and Nick had the impression he’d entered Jack’s sanctuary. “When you said he was your brother, it sounded to me like you believed it,” the older man observed.

“I guess now I do. But when Jarrod told me about this trip last Saturday, I tried to talk my way out of it. I told him there was no need for both of us to go. And, even when he persuaded me that there WAS a need for us to make this trip together, I told him I wasn’t gonna introduce Heath as my brother because no one was ever gonna convince me that he was. Jarrod said he thought time would do that,” Nick said disgustedly. “I told him two weeks alone would sooner have one of us killing the other,” he repeated his earlier claim.

“I’m glad to see that you’re both still alive,” Jack grinned, taking a bottle of whiskey from a shelf behind a small drinks bar.

“God … Jack … I hate it when I have to tell Jarrod he was right about something! He’s always so sure of himself that you WANT him to be wrong. I left the ranch determined that NOTHING would change the way I felt. I figured it was a pretty safe bet that I could get through two weeks without even having to talk to Heath much. You saw it. He’s a quiet guy. Hardly talks. Except, suddenly, on this trip he decided to start talking!”

“Maybe he’s more relaxed one-on-one,” Jack suggested. “A lot of people are uncomfortable when they meet someone new. Or when they’re in an unfamiliar situation. Or in a group. He said he grew up in a mining town being raised by his mother alone. Throw anyone like that into a large family in a fancy mansion and they’ll probably be just as quiet.”

“That’s probably true because we’ve talked a helluva lot more on this trip than we did at the ranch,” Nick agreed. “I’ve learned a lot about him in the past few days. And I learned some things I didn’t want to know about my father. We spent the first night of our trip in Strawberry, the town Heath grew up in. While we were there I saw a picture of my father with Heath’s mother. He had his arm around her! You don’t sit down with someone who’s a stranger for a picture like that,” Nick stated almost angrily.

“No, you don’t,” Jack agreed, “but it isn’t Heath’s fault.”

“I know,” Nick nodded, as both he and Jack settled into overstuffed leather chairs, drinks in hand. “I know it’s not his fault. And I know that the biggest reason I didn’t want to accept his story is because it would mean my father was a different man than I thought he was.”

“Nick – Tom Barkley was exactly the man you thought he was. For all you know, what happened between him and … uh…”

“Leah Thomson,” Nick supplied.

“…what happened between him and Leah Thomson,” Jack continued, “may have made him the man you knew. You’re what … three or four years older than Heath?”

“About four years,” Nick nodded.

“So you were a very young child when this relationship occurred. Too young for you now to remember what your father was like before that. And I certainly can’t tell you what he was like because I didn’t know him then. But the man you grew up knowing was shaped by his past. And he may have been the man you knew because he’d learned from that mistake. And don’t think I’m saying Heath is a mistake!” Jack said quickly. “What your father and Heath’s mother did was a mistake – but Heath isn’t responsible for it.”

“I understand that, Jack. And, believe me, I understand it in a way that I didn’t before I left the ranch. What bothers me now is that…” Nick paused just shaking his head. Then he asked, “How could he let him grow up the way he did? Heath went to work at the age of six setting dynamite charges in a mine! He was working two jobs when he was eight. Jack, he joined the army and fought in the war when he was fourteen! And he did all of that just so he and his mother could survive in that hellhole of a town! How could the Tom Barkley I knew have allowed that?” Nick’s voice had grown husky with emotion as he related Heath’s history.

Jack shook his head. “I don’t have an answer to that, Nick. I can’t believe the Tom Barkley I knew would have abandoned one of his children that way. I’d still have to say to you … maybe Tom didn’t know about Heath.”

“I had the hope that maybe that was true,” Nick conceded, “but when we were having lunch earlier today, Heath pulled out a watch that his mother gave him. She told him it was a family watch. It has the letter ‘T’ engraved on it. My uncle has an identical watch with a ‘J’ on it – for John. Both he and Father have mentioned that Father had one just like it with a ‘T’ on it – and he lost it. And I heard Father get mad at Uncle John for teasing him about losing his watch several years before. At the time it just sounded like an argument between brothers but now it’s so clear. Father gave the watch to Leah for their son and just the mention of it reminded him that he was neglecting the boy. And still he did nothing about it. I actually feel bad for Heath that he has the watch because he thinks the ‘T’ is for Thomson! He thinks it’s from his mother’s family!”

“And you didn’t tell him differently?”

“HELL, NO!”

“Why didn’t you tell him?”

“That watch means the world to him, Jack. It was a gift from his mother – and I don’t think he has too many remembrances from his mother. He sure as hell isn’t gonna want to hear that the watch he treasures came from a man he hates!”

Jack was silent for a minute as he thought about that. Then he took in a deep breath that he let out very slowly before saying, “I can see that it’s not easy to live with the thought that your father walked out on his responsibility to Heath. And I know you well enough to know that you’re the first one to jump in when you believe an injustice has occurred. But you’ve gotta decide if your memory of Tom is more important than your future with Heath. Do you want Heath to stay on at the Barkley Ranch?”

“Of course!” Nick said without hesitation.

“Then you’re gonna have to live with knowing that what your father did was an injustice that never should have occurred. You can’t change what Heath’s already experienced in his life. You can’t change what his mother – God rest her soul – went through. But you CAN give him a brother. A family. A future! And if you don’t do that pretty damn fast, you’re gonna lose your chance. He’s ready to leave. He said as much.”

“I don’t know what else to do, Jack!” Nick said desperately. “I thought we’d gotten pretty close in the last few days.”

“Have you told him you want him to stay?”

“How could he not know that?”

Jack couldn’t help laughing. “Nick – believe it or not – not everyone instinctively knows what you’re thinking. If my hunch is right, Heath has probably heard you say countless times over the past several weeks that you wouldn’t mind if he packed up and left.”

“I’m sure he has,” Nick agreed.

“So what makes you think that a few days of friendly conversation would make him believe you’d changed your mind?”

Nick stared at him for a moment, his mouth open. Finally he asked, “Are you saying … if I actually tell Heath I want him to stay … he will?”

“I’m saying if you tell him you want him to stay – he’ll KNOW that you want him to stay. And maybe he will,” Jack said almost softly. “But if you don’t tell him, the chances are very good that he’ll pack up and leave when you get back to the ranch.”

Nick shook his head slowly and the only thing he could think to say was, “Don’t that beat all…”