His strides were such that you could not call it a walk. At sixty, Nick still took long, powerful strides when he moved from place to place, just as long and just as powerful as the steps he took at the age of thirty.

As Nick paced, he swung his arms and occasionally ran his hands through his hair, hair that remained dark and thick. Most things about me, Nick thought, are the same as they've always been. I'm strong, I'm healthy, I'm lean and tall, my eyesight's good, my hearing's good---never mind all of that. Even if I'm the same, nothing and no one around me is.

The reason for Nick's pacing was a sad one. Well, maybe not so sad. Sure it was sad. Death was always sad, wasn't it? Even if the person who died was very old, older than most folks lived to be.

Mother had lived on and on. Nick had begun to believe she might outlive him. After all, many people didn't live much beyond sixty. But, then, two days ago, the woman he had loved dearly, Victoria Barkley, died in her sleep.

Today was to be the funeral. Neighbors, friends, and, of course, the family, would gather at the gravesite. Neighbors Nick could abide, friends he would be glad to see, but the family, that was another story. Oh, not Nick's own immediate family, they were his life now. His wife, Emily, whom he'd met and married 27 years ago, had been his rock. She was younger than Nick by ten years, a friend of his sister Audra's from Sacramento, and a good woman.

Hadn't she given him two fine children? Carson, now 25, and Lucy, now 23. Lucy, away in Europe in school, would miss her grandmother's funeral, but Carson would be there. That is, if he could stand being that close to those cousins of his.

Emily would order him to stop pacing the minute she came downstairs. She would say it wasn't good for his health. Might bring on a heart attack. Nick grinned while he paced. He disagreed with his wife's theory Emily believed his bad temper, his hot head as she called it, would cause his heart to act up. Well, Jarrod was no hot head. Jarrod was a reasonable, even tempered, brilliant, respectable man, a man who thought things through before he spoke or acted. Jarrod was dead. Been dead ten years. Heart attack. Nick shook his head. It looks like I'd get over it, he thought. A lot of water has gone under the bridge since then, but every day, I still think of Jarrod. Jarrod, the fellow he'd argued vehemently with on an almost daily basis throughout their entire lives together. Jarrod, the fellow he could count on to ease his worries, the brother he'd loved so dearly---Jarrod was dead. Had a heart attack on a train that wasn't carrying a doctor. In the end, Jarrod hadn't been so smart after all.

Nick's sister-in-law, Jarrod's widow, Irene, a lady lawyer, had taken their three children and moved to New York City. Two years ago, the oldest of Jarrod's children and the only boy, came back to Stockton. Denton, 28, practiced law and lived with his young wife in a house Jarrod and Irene built here on the ranch.

The house Nick was pacing in also set on the Barkley ranch. It was located about five miles from the mansion he'd been raised in, the mansion where his mother breathed her last two days ago.

She had not been alone in the house. No sir, she hadn't. Audra was there when Mother died and so was Eugene. Both had come for a visit, Eugene from Philadelphia and Audra from San Francisco.

This little matter of his sister and youngest brother happening to be here for such a major event as their mother's passing was the cause of Nick's pacing. Both had come without any word being sent to them, as far as Nick knew, that Mother was sick. And while they were visiting, mother up and died.

"I wish you were here, Pappy," Nick mumbled. "How I wish you were here.

Pappy had been Nick's nickname for Jarrod. The thought of it nearly brought tears to his eyes. He rubbed them quickly. What had those two concocted? Audra's husband was a doctor and Eugene was one of the foremost surgeons in the United States.

"I could ask Heath, I reckon," Nick said aloud. "He lives in that house too."

What irony it was that Heath, who wasn't really Mother's by birth, was the one who lived with her.

He and his Irish wife, Noreen, and their brood of five children moved into the mansion five years ago.

"Five years since we've spoken, Heath," Nick sighed. "I don't reckon you'd want to talk to me now, even if you thought Audra and Gene helped Mother along to her death."

No, nothing was the same. Jarrod dead ten years. Mother dead two days, and a mighty suspicious death at that, Nick thought, even if she was 85. And nothing had been the same between him and Heath since that daughter of his had been paralyzed in the buggy accident.

There had been three happy go lucky young people on an outing that night. Nick's boy, Carson, and Heath's two oldest children, Cletus and Bridget. The buggy upset, Bridget was badly injured. Both of them, Heath's boy and girl that is, said Carson was to blame. Nope, nothing was the same.

Emily appeared. "Nick, stop pacing. You'll have a heart attack and they'll have to bury you with your mother."

Nick stopped. "Emily!" he roared. "Mother was murdered! I know it for a fact! I'm gonna see to it that Gene and Audra pay for their deed!"

Emily didn't comment, other than to say, "Carson will be along to pick us up shortly."

Carson would be along, and that would be fine, but it was Denton, Jarrod's son, Nick wanted to talk to. Denton could handle the case against Eugene and Audra. After Mother was buried, Nick intended to show this family of his he still had his wits about him, still had a fire in his belly.

Heath pulled and tugged on the wheelchair. This would not be good for his back. The doctor warned him just last week about doing things which would further injure his already crooked spine.

It could not be helped. Bridget wanted to attend her grandmother's service and, by golly, Heath planned to see to it she did. It was the least he could do for the girl.

How many times have I said or thought that? Heath contemplated as he shoved his daughter to Victoria Barkley's gravesite. The least I can do. She may be in this chair for life, so, anything she wants I can give her, I say it's the least I can do, and then provide her with what she wants.

Noreen, Heath's wife of 24 years, suggested one of their sons, Cletus, the oldest, or Brian, should handle Bridget's chair today. She was often right and probably was about this, but he wanted to do it himself. Why? Why take the chance of ending up in a wheelchair himself, when it wasn't necessary? Easy. Nick would see him pushing---and, Nick's boy Carson would see. That made it all worth it to Heath. He should be thinking more about the occasion. Mother was dead. Of course, she wasn't really his mother, but Heath had almost forgotten that. Thirty years was a long time, and that's how long he'd been calling Victoria Barkley mother and, more than that, really thinking of her as his mother.

She was a wonderful woman, a great woman, really. Strong, tough, kind, intelligent, caring. You name it, if it was good, Mother was it. His and Noreen's five children knew no other grandmother. Noreen's mother was dead and Heath's birth mother, Leah, had died before he came to the Barkley ranch seeking his heritage.

Cletus, Bridget, Brian, Leah, and Kathleen loved Victoria dearly and she them. As she had not discriminated against him in favor of her birth children, Mother had not discriminated against his children in favor of Jarrod's, Nick's, Audra's and Eugene's youngsters.

There was a definite chill to the day. If not for the advent of the automobile, Bridget would not have been able to come. The buggy would have been too cold, and too slow. Everyone was arriving by automobile. Heath glanced around. Eugene stood at the grave. Gene! How well he'd done for himself! A surgeon, and a darn good one everyone said. And, the fellow had given Heath hope, hope that Bridget might walk again.

Heath pushed Bridget into place, then stepped over to Eugene. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Nick and his family arriving. He braced himself. If he had anything to do with it, peace would prevail today, but you never knew about Nick. No, you sure never knew about that one.

"A bull in a china shop."

"What?" Eugene Barkley asked. "Did you say something, Heath?"

Heath watched Nick, his wife Emily, and their son Carson approach. "I said, a bull in a china shop. That's how Jarrod used to describe Nick. Remember, Gene?"

Eugene smiled warmly. "I remember. And Jarrod was right. Nick charges through life still."

Heath continued to speak as Nick drew near. "I remember one time Jarrod, Nick, and I volunteered to carry nitro out a ways from Stockton to help put out a forest fire. Jarrod said if we got back safe he'd never call Nick a bull in a china shop again, so careful was Nick handlin' that nitro."

"I'll bet he did call him that again, though," Eugene said. "Sure," Heath agreed. "They teased and bartered right up to Jarrod's end."

"A sad day," Gene said, looking down at his mother's open grave and the casket sitting next to it.

Heath nodded. "And so is this."

Eugene did not respond. Heath moved away from him and took his place beside Noreen and behind their daughter's wheelchair. Automobiles continued to arrive. He saw his own children,

the four who could walk, pull up in Cletus' car. Also arriving was Jarrod's son, Denton, and his wife, a wife who would soon be giving birth. Too bad Mother hadn't lived to see her first great grandchild. And then there was Audra, Heath's only sister. She and that odd turned husband of hers were walking behind Denton.

Heath returned his gaze to closer surroundings, and found himself in eye contact with Nick. Well, fine, he didn't mind making eye contact with the fellow, wouldn't even mind speaking to him. After all, mother was dead and her family should grieve together, even if they did have differences.

Truth be known, Heath despised having this fued with Nick. It wasn't Nick who upset the buggy in a show of youthful exuberence. It was Carson. But Nick had taken his son's word that it wasn't his fault and the once close relationship they had detiorated rapidly.

Nick focused on Heath. What was the man thinking? He looked somber as a judge. The thought made Nick want to laugh. Of course he looked somber! Why not! This was a funeral. Mother's service. Heath loved Mother. And she loved him. Had ever since she went off to Strawberry that day they were honoring Father in Stockton. When she learned Heath undoubtedly was Father's son, she took him to her heart.

Without really thinking about speaking aloud, Nick heard his own voice. "Good afternoon."

What was that expression on Heath's face? Surprise? Astonishment? Hate? Love? Well, for one thing, there was that ever so slight grin Heath always gave you. "Good afternoon," he returned the greeting.

Ha! Nick thought. Those were the very words the two of them exchanged the first time they laid eyes on each other. Thirty years ago, that had been. On a bridge. Both were on horseback and neither woudl give an inch or back up. The bridge gave way and they got a dunking.

Heath looked away. He glanced down actually and Nick followed his gaze. The girl. The wheelchair. Nick looked at his niece briefly, then reached for his wife's hand. He badly needed Emily's comfort. Best to stop thinking about Heath and his brood and concentrate on what Audra and Eugene had done to Mother.

Eugene stood by Mother's casket. He was here without his wife and two sons. Of course he was here! Nick thought. He'd come to slip something into Mother, hadn't he? You wouldn't bring your wife and children along to do that. Besides, that Philadelphia woman of Gene's didn't like it out here anyway. Uppity, she was, and so were the boys.

Nick tried to catch Gene's eye. The fellow wasn't looking at him. Well, fine. No doubt he felt guilty about killing their mother. Oh, now he was glancing this way. Smiling, even. And saying something. "What?" Nick asked.

Eugene stepped over and offered his hand. "Hello, Nick. I'm sorry you didn't get to the house to see Mother before she died."

Nick took his youngest brother's hand and shook it. "I don't get to the house much Gene, but it hasn't been long since Emily went by and brought Mother over to our place. She didn't look like a woman ready to die that day."

Gene diverted his eyes. Ah, ha! Nick thought. Guilty! "We'll talk after the service, Nick," said the youngest Barkley.

You bet we will! Nick said to himself, but only nodded to Gene.

Heath wished the service was over. It was bad enough that Mother was dead, but the time here at her gravesite was evidently going to be more traumatic than he'd imagined. For starters, Nick had spoken to him! Said 'good afternoon' of all things. Heath had not been able to suppress a grin when he responded in kind. Well, why shouldn't I grin at him? Those words, that greeting, means something to both of us. What it did not mean, Heath felt sure, was the dropping of the antagonism between them. And something else was in the air. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but Nick acted more than a little strange toward Gene just now. It could be it was all a show on Nick's part, a show for the benefit of Heath and his family. Maybe it had nothing to do with Eugene at all. There was wariness, though, wariness and something akin to distrust in Nick's eyes when he'd spoken with Gene. Why? Heath wondered. Lord, what did the quick to go off on a tangent, long tall, still handsome, still strong Nick have up his sleeve now?

It was probably all about making Heath feel guilty Nick no longer visited the home place. Well, the buggy accident was the fault of Nick's son, and the moving in with Mother was due to the accident. The home Heath and Noreen built on the ranch and lived in for many years was not adequate to care for Bridget. Mother insisted the entire family move in with her. Nick had not set foot in the house since, but Heath did not feel guilty.

It appeared as if the hot headed Barkley was going to stay calm. Heath concentrated his attention elsewhere. Many friends, neighbors from all over the valley, were gathering behind them. Audra and her husband were taking their places among the family. Denton, Jarrod's son, and a replica of his father, was shaking hands with family members. In fact, he was offering his hand to Heath now.

"Uncle Heath," Denton intoned, solemnly grasping Heath's hand.

"Denton."

This son of Jarrod's resembled his father so much, Heath often felt pangs of loneliness for his oldest brother when he was around the boy. Never more so than today. Denton's prominent feature, his eyes, reminded Heath too much of Jarrod on this occasion of Mother's final service.

Those eyes of Denton's were pools of blue, exactly as Jarrod's had been. They gazed warmly on Heath now as Jarrod's had so often done. "I'm sorry I didn't get to the house for lunch with the family today," Denton apologized. "Marcy wasn't feeling well this morning and I didn't want to leave her."

Heath understood. After all, he and Noreen had five children. He was well accustomed to how a pregnant woman felt in the morning. "I understand, Denton. Come after the service. There'll be plenty to eat."

"I'll be there," Denton said, and knelt down to be eye level with Bridget. He then said something which sounded so much like Jarrod, Heath wanted to cry. "And how are you today, young lady?"

So many times Jarrod had called Audra or other girls and even older women young lady. So suave, sophisticated, so mannerly Jarrod had been. Heath glanced at Nick and saw that he was listening and watching. When he realized he'd been caught, he abruptly looked away.

"I'm fine, Denton," Bridget replied to her cousin. She was twenty now. A lovely, friendly girl.

What a life she would have if---Don't think about it now, Heath admonished himself. He watched as Denton spoke to all of his and Noreen's children, then moved on to Eugene, leaving Heath to recall the times he'd looked into Jarrod's blue eyes and saw nothing there but raw love.

In the two years since Denton returned to the ranch from New York, Heath had observed the young man enough to know he possessed the same moral standards as his father. Boy Howdy, had Jarrod ever possesed high standards! One of the times which came to mind when Jarrod had exhibited both high standards and raw love occurred several months after Heath took up residence as a member of the Barkley family.

There was a killing in town. Heath had captured the murderer shortly after observing the stabbing death of a Stockton prominent citizen. Jarrod decided to defend the accused. Heath testified as to what he witnessed. Jarrod proceeded to rip him to pieces, to cast doubt on his story. All the while, though, that he was tearing my story down, Heath now recalled, his eyes were telling me he loved me, that he hated doing what he had to do to defend his client.

Of course, there were times when Jarrod defended me, Heath continued to reflect on the past. I was accused of murder and Jarrod got the truth out of a skittish witness. I was comforted by those eyes of his early on in our relationship. The very next day after we met, I joined a ranchers' battle against railroadmen. After it was over, Jarrod offered me a cigar, when he noticed I was too nervous too roll a cigarette. With those blue eyes of his, he let me know he believed I was his brother. There were also times when his principals drove me crazy. No matter now. Jarrod's gone and life goes on.

The minister appeared and moved to the casket. The service was about to begin. Heath hoped he wouldn't shed tears. He surely would miss Mother, missed her already. Once again, he looked Nick's way. The fellow was clinging to his wife.

This would be unbearable if not for Emily to hang on to. Nick looked at his wife. She was a tall, stately woman. A beautiful brunette with deep brown eyes. They'd had a good life, he and Emily.

Without her, well, he could not have survived these last years with the mess between his and Heath's families.

I'll hang on to Emily, Nick told himself, because if I don't, I'm either going to cry or punch somebody. All of that business with Jarrod's boy talking to Heath and his children nearly pushed me to the brink. So like Jarrod his son was, and this was no day to be reminded of that.

The minister was beginning the service. Mother's last stand, so to speak. If only she could speak! Nick guessed he'd thought she would preach her own funeral. The very idea broke the tension within him. He felt Emily stir. He glanced her way again, and saw she was looking elsewhere. Nick knew where. At her friend Audra, who stood behind them.

The fair Miss Audra. The tension returned.

"Dearly beloved," the minister began. "We are gathered here to say farewell to Victoria Barkley. Victoria was a woman who---"

Nick's mind wandered. He dared not listen too closely anyway. Why was Emily so interested in Audra? Was the girl crying? He didn't hear anything. Girl? He still thought of Audra as a girl.

Well, his sister was no girl. She was 50 years old. Audra fifty. What a shock!

Emily continued to focus on whatever it was which held her attention behind them. Nick turned around. Sure enough, Audra was crying, yet so softly he could barely hear her. Well, why shouldn't she cry? Audra was always close to Mother. Wait a minute! Maybe Audra was taking on so because, just as he'd thought, she'd had a hand in doing Mother in!

Nick stared at his sister. He was paying no attention whatsoever to what the minister was saying.

Audra was draped in black. You could see her face, though, and it was, as it had been since her birth, one of the most beautiful faces God ever created. Nick's heart turned over. Audra, his little Sis. Oh what memories he had of her.

Audra, the fragile little sister. She'd never seemed quite human to Nick. Oh, he loved her, adored her, really, but her beauty was such that he often wondered if she was real. That was ridiculous, of course. Audra was real all right. And, she could be tough. The thought brought a smile to Nick's lips. A couple of times he remembered, she'd been a hell cat. Hadn't she taken a horse whip to Heath the very night he made his first appearance here? At Father's gravesite it had been, according to Heath. Heck! Nick thought, right on this very spot!

Nick glanced down at his father's gravestone just off to the right of where they were about to bury Mother. Jarrod rested nearby. Heath said Audra struck him with the whip several times that day before he could take the thing from her. And then there was the time little Sis attempted to drive off that Irish bunch and got her rear whipped for her trouble. She'd marched in the house afterward and retrieved a gun. Ha! She might have gone through with it if he and Heath hadn't taken over the fight. It all worked out, and Heath ended up marrying one of that bunch.

Nick, aware members of his family were watching him now because he wasn't paying attention to Mother's service, did nothing to rectify the situation. Instead, he continued to focus on Audra.

She could do harm, even if she did appear fragile. She'd shot two people, if he recalled correctly.

Both of them needed shooting. One was a fellow called Handy, a bad character who started trouble between people, then helped one side or the other, sometimes both, kill off the opposing folk. She killed him because he was about to shoot Heath. Another time, she accidently shot a neighbor's wife when the two of them were struggling with a gun.

Despite those incidences, it was the fragile, vulnerable side of Audra which had made the most impression on Nick over the years. She was most vulnerable when it came to men. Oh boy, had she made bad choices in men! In fact, the fellow standing next to her now, her husband, was a bad choice as far as Nick was concerned. A real odd ball. Before his falling out with Heath, the two of them often discussed Audra's spouse. There was nothing wrong with the man's brain. William Coates was a highly regarded doctor in San Francisco, said to be one of the best doctors in the state.

Nick studied Audra and her husband. They knew they were being studied. Dr. Coates ignored Nick's glares. Audra, on the other hand, appeared to have given up listening to the minister.

Given up crying too. Those baby blues were on Nick now. She wanted to say something to him, he just knew it!

"Stop staring, Nick."

It wasn't Audra speaking, but Emily. His wife whispered, but no doubt everyone heard her. No doubt, too, she was embarrassed by his behavior. He'd often embarrassed his family with his bad temper. Audra, sweet, sensitive Audra, ahd suffered through many of his temper tantrums. Well, she should have been grateful! Hadn't he helped save her from the neighbor's son who'd gone whacko, the new doctor in town who nearly poisoned Mother, the fellow who turned out to be the leader of a bunch of ranch burning young fools? And then there was that military hero who went nuts. Good Lord, Audra sure had fallen for a bunch of lunatics! Of course, there was the young man who was running from the military squadron who got himself shot right in front of her.

Ah, Audra, has all of that with the men caused you to do harm to Mother? Why Mother? She loved and supported you, was always there for you. Well, there was that time on the train when you had an appendicitis attack she wasn't there. Jarrod, Heath and I were, though. We saw that you were taken care of, Sis.

"We took care of you, Audra. How could you have done this?"

For a moment, Nick didn't realize the minister had stopped rambling on. And, it took him another moment to realize why. He'd spoken aloud. Very loud, evidently, the way everyone was staring.

"Please, Nick," Emily implored. "Be quiet until---"

Nick, suddenly very angry, brushed off the hand of his wonderful wife. "It's time to settle this, Emily. I can't keep quiet any longer."

The minister stepped over to Nick. "Mr. Barkley, how may I help you?"

The tone of the reverend's voice made Nick want to laugh. In fact, he did laugh. "You think I'm nuts, huh, reverend?"

"No, Nick, not nuts--uh, just, well, maybe troubled," the minister stammered.

"Troubled, huh? Is that a fact? Troubled! Well, let me tell you somethin'. I'm not troubled, but there are a couple of troubled people here. Killers, to be exact."

"Nick!" Emily exclaimed.

"Dad!" Carson stepped up to say. "What is it?"

"I'll tell you what it is!" Nick hurried to explain. "Audra and Eugene killed Mother!"

At the unpleasant turn of events, Heath's mind could initially only register one thing Nick said.

Evidently, the loose cannon in the family was about to implicate Eugene in something and that might put a damper on any help the youngest of his brothers could give Bridget. The thought nearly set him off. He'd been known to have almost as hot a head as Nick at times, although he'd worked hard to control his temper. Just recalling certain occasions when he had not controlled it usually kept him cool. One incident occurred not long after he arrived here. Nick and Jarrod hired a man to run a Barkley lumber camp. Heath recognized him as the man who ran the hell hole of a prison camp where Heath was incarcerated during the civil war. He had attacked the man on sight.

Fortunately for Heath, he'd been shown a better way to handle situations. The dear woman they were laying to rest today had often been the one to guide him through his anger. Victoria Barkley had been a God send to him and now here was Nick disrupting her funeral with some crazy nonsense.

Heath attempted to concentrate on the actual accusation his brother was making before opening his own mouth. Others were not following his example. Chaos had broken out among the friends and neighbors who were attending Mother's service. People were talking, some shouting for Nick's blood, some horrified, some, Heath noticed, ready to join in any fight which might break out.

Some things never changed.

The family appeared to be frozen in place. Noreen clung to his arm now, fearing, Heath supposed, his reaction to the brother he'd been on the outs with for five years. Eugene remained where he was, gazing at Nick with a mixture of hurt and astonishment on his face.

Audra, if Heath could read her under her black veil, appeared frightened. Well, who wouldn't be!

Nick was off the deep end. It's time, Heath thought, for me to take over. Carson, Nick's boy, a son who resembled his father as much as Denton resembled Jarrod, was talking to Nick quietly. Heath put himself within hearing range of that conversation.

"Dad, you're really raisin' a stink here," Carson was saying. "It's Grandmother's funeral. Calm down. If there's something wrong, we'll deal with it later."

"Good advice, Nick," Heath said. "Don't ruin Mother's service. You owe her more than that."

Heath noted the surprise which registered on Nick's face. No doubt he had not expected to be so addressed by a five year adversary. It wasn't Nick, however, who responded. Carson turned to his uncle. "You stay out of this!" the third generation Barkley advised gruffly. "Dad doesn't need you telling him what to do. He's been lookin' for a reason to tear you apart from top to bottom!"

Taken aback by his nephew's choice of words, Heath's memory revved up once again. Nick had taunted him with similar words once. A fellow showed up at the ranch oen day looking for me, Heath recalled. Bounty hunters shot him on the spot. Jarrod, Mother, Nick and Audra became upset when I wouldn't talk to the fellow while he recovered in our house. The man had left me to die in the desert, and wanted to apologize. I wanted nothing to do with him. I got angry and moved to the Stockton hotel.

When Jarrod put his lfie in danger and went off to prove our house guest was innocent of the current charge against him, Nick came looking for me to help him find Jarrod. He called me out while I was involved in a friendly poker game. He said, "I've been lookin' for a reason to tear you apart from top to bottom!" I told him to name the place and the game, or something like that. Oh, it all blew over, we rescued Jarrod, and life went on, but it sure was ironic to hear Carson say that now.

"You'd best let your Dad speak for himself," Heath advised.

And then another voice entered the discussion. "Yea, good idea, Carson. My Dad's still plenty tough enough to take on Uncle Nick."

Heath smiled, despite the gravity of the situation. His son, Cletus, better known as Clete, had moved to defend him. Clete was a good son. As Denton looked like Jarrod, Carson resembled Nick, so did Clete resemble Heath. His hair was light brown and his eyes were blue. He was exactly Heath's height and weight. He also had a temper which, it appeared to Heath, was about to explode. Carson, the cousin Clete once loved like a brother, and now despised, was ready for the confrontation.

"I'll settle this with you right now, Clete!" Carson bragged, throwing back his shoulders.

"Fine," Clete retorted, beginning to loosen his tie. "I've been waiting for this chance."

"Is that a fact?" Carson roared.

Denton steped in between his cousins with a rapid stride. "Now listen to me," the young lawyer advised, stern. "I can tell all of you for sure, this behavior is not going to accomplish anything.

And as a lawyer, Uncle Nick, I can assure you, your accusation of wrongdoing by Aunt Audra and Uncle Eugene could put you in serious jeapardy."

So like Jarrod, Heath though, and wondered what Nick was thinking.

The boy sounded and looked so much like Jarrod, Nick believed for a minute it was his beloved older brother. Many times Jarrod had shook his finger at Nick and fixed those blue eyes on him.

"Uncle Nick, do you hear me?"

Nick realized his mind had wandered. He was living in the past when he needed to be concentrating on the here and now. "I hear you, Denton, but what you say doesn't matter much, because what I said is true. Your grandmother was murdered."

Denton continued to play the role of Jarrod. "You can't just go around accusing people of murder.

You've created quite a scene here. No doubt, if Aunt Audra and Uncle Eugene are so inclined, they might just sue you for slander!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Nick saw Eugene move from the spot he'd been glued to for quite some time. The youngest Barkley brother came to stand next to him. "I don't knkow what has put such an idea in your head, but you are way off target."

"No, I'm not off targe!" Nick spouted off gruffly. "But before we talk about it, we need to get rid of all these people. Denton, tell the reverend. I want these folks off Barkley land immediately! And Carson?"

Nick's son, still standing nearby, answered. "Yea?"

"I want you to apologize."

"Apologize! No! Carson responded vehemently.

"You don't even know who I'm askin' you to apologize to and you're sayin' no?" Nick countered.

"Well, who?" the son Nick knew to be much, maybe too much, like him asked. "If you mean Clete---"

"I mean your Uncle Heath," Nick cut the boy off. "You were raised better than to talk to your elders that way. If anybody is gonna tell Heath I can tear him apart from top to bottom, it'll be me. Now apologize!"

Nick watched his son. Carson did not want to follow the order. He didn't have to, of course. He was of age. He was going to, though, and Nick observed the boy as he stepped closer to his uncle and said, "I'm sorry."

Nick then focused on Heath. His brother gave Carson a slight nod of acknowledgement. On his face he wore that ever so slight smile of his that was there one second and gone the next. Nick had seen that smile thousands of times. There wasn't time to reflect on those times now. Too much was happening. For one thing, the folks who had shown up to attend Victoria Barkley's funeral were departing at the minister and Denton's request. In a minute, they, the family that is, could get down to the business of how Mother died.

While waiting, Nick glanced around him. Eugene stood next to him still. Audra and her husband stood close to Heath and his wife. In fact, Audra was positioned directly behind the wheelchair of Heath's daughter. Nick noted how much his sister and this particular niece looked alike. Bridget resembled Heath, and, therefore, resembled Audra.

"Why didn't your girls come?" Nick asked, directing his question to his sister.

Audra looked at him, obviously confused by his inquiry. She fixed him with a cool stare with those with those baby blues of hers. "They're both in school, Nick. And I'm certainly glad they didn't come. I'd be so ashamed for them to witness this spectacle."

Nick chuckled. "Don't want them to see their Uncle Nick jump off the cliff, huh?"

"It would be very painful for them," Audra said softly. "They love you. Both of them do."

"Yea, well, I don't know your girls very well, Sis," Nick went on. "I was just thinkin' how much Bridget here reminds me of you. Your girls look more like this slease bag you married---"

"Nick!" Emily pleaded, grabbing his arm. "Please don't do this!"

"Someone killed Mother! I vote for Audra and Gene with a lot of help from ole Bill Coates here, or should I say Dr. Coates?"

Heath moved toward him. No doubt, his brother was about to name the time and the game. Nick stood his ground, hands on hips.

All of his life, Heath had possessed the ability to smell trouble, to sense when something not quite right was in the wind. He definitely smelled something rotten now. This sixth sense, if you wanted to call it that, had been building from the time Nick acted peculiar toward Eugene. The notion that Audra and Gene could have murdered Mother was preposterous yet, but never mind that. Nick was begging for trouble, begging for an encounter. Fine. He would get one.

"You've caused enough heartache here, Nick," Heath said. "You'd best go on home. The rest of us will bury her in peace."

Eugene spoke up to concur. "That's a good idea, Nick. After this is over, I'll come by your house. We can talk---"

"I don't want to talk to my mother's killer!" Nick exploded, his robust voice booming across the graveyard.

"Listen, all of you," the now returned Denton entered the conversation. "The people are gone. We're alone, just family. We can work this out."

"I want you to represent me in a lawsuit against these two--no three," Nick told his nephew. "Bill Coates was in on it."

Heath's sixth sense continued to tell him there was, indeed, something to Nick's theory. To his brother, he continued to object. "Look, Nick, you're off base here. Mother was 85 years old. She died naturally, in her sleep."

"Why?" Nick wanted to know. "Think, Heath! Mother wasn't a bit sick, was she? No, she wasn't.

These three just happen to come for a visit. She dies. Don't that strike you as wrong? Or were you in on it too?"

That did it. If the fellow wanted to fight, then they would fight. It certainly would not be the first time. That occurred the night Heath came to the Barkley ranch about a month after his birth mother's death. I was in bed in the bunkhouse, Heath recalled, when Nick came in, ordered me to get dressed, then took me to the stable where he proceeded to engage me in the fist fight of my life.

When I told him I was his father's bastard son, he stopped fighting and took me in the house to further explain myself to him, Jarrod and Eugene.

Another fight occurred when Nick became engaged to a San Francisco socialite. On a camping trip, he became convinced I was after the lady. He nearly choked me to death that time, but in the end, he was the one who got hurt. He suffered a serious back injury.

Yes, we've had our fights, Heath thought. Aloud, he said, "You keep this up and you're askin' for it."

"It!" Nick roared. "What's the it, Heath? You gonna try to whip me? I'm old, but I'm still good enough to take you!"

Heath felt someone grip his arm and knew it was Noreen. Her quiet voice warned. "Heath's not going to fight. His back will not hold out."

"That's right," Clete said, moving to Heath's side. "If you want to fight, Uncle Nick, I'll take Dad's place."

Heath smiled in spite of himself, but spoke sternly to his son. "Like your uncle told Carson, don't be talkin' bad to your elders. Nick and I will handle this."

"Fighting is not the way to handle it," Denton persisted as peacemaker. "It certainly won't prove whether or not someone killed Grandmother."

"Please, everyone, have a little faith in what I tell you. I had nothing to do with Mother's passing, and I don't believe Audra did either."

Heath turned to the one who had spoken. Eugene. Ironically, Gene was the most successful of the Barkley brothers. They had all done well enough in their own way, but Gene was known throughout the world for several surgical procedures he'd developed. Heath recalled his younger brother as he'd been when they first met. Studious, quiet, somewhat unsure of his place in the family scheme of things, certainly no Jarrod or Nick.

Eugene had accepted Heath as a brother more readily than the other boys, but there had been a few times when the boy had not been happy with his new sibling. The boots, Heath remembered now. Father's boots. Eugene wanted me to wear them to Stockton that day they unveiled Father's statue. When I refused, he came to my room and jumped me. Nick came in, picked him up like he was a feather and sent him from the room.

Heath pulled his thoughts back to the present. "What you just said, Gene, I remember Mother telling me of another time you said somethin' similar."

"And when was that?" Eugene asked, curiously.

"Wait a minute!" Nick interrupted, impatient. "Let's stick to the subject."

"It is the subject, big brother," Heath said, then explained. "Gene asked Mother to ahve a little faith in him that time he brought his professor home to vaccinate for anthrax. We didn't believe in it, Nick, you and me. But we went along 'cause Mother made us. And Gene was right, and when it comes to some things, he's been right ever since. And that's why he's here."

"Meaning?" Nick pressed.

"Meaning, Heath asked Eugene here to evaluate Bridget for surgery," Audra spoke up. "Nick, Gene didn't come to harm Mother, and neither did I."

He wasn't going to allow them, this fast talking family of his, to confuse the issue. Just a minute ago, it appeared as if Heath wanted to go a round or two, and, then, the waters grew murky. Now, Nick wasn't sure where they were headed. He'd been ready to fight Heath, but somehow, now, all he could think of were the times he'd rescued the fellow, and the times he'd been rescued by him.

There was the time that daffy woman in Midas left Heath in that dangerous old mine. I got to him just in time. Then, there was that evil fellow who put Heath in an Iron Box and asked me to get down on my knees and beg for his release. Well, I did, because I would have done anything to get him out of there. One or two times, Jarrod and I teamed up to rescue Heath. Once, a burning tree fell and trapped him. Jarrod and I lifted it enough to allow him to scoot out from under. Another time, we rode off to a place called Limbo and got there just in time to help Heath and a friend of his take care of some outlaws.

Nick's memory then replayed for him the incidents in which Heath was the rescuer. He shot the wolf when it attacked me, and quickly did all he could to help stave off rabies. It worked. He shot the big cat when it jumped me, and then got me to the house. He and Jarrod came to my rescue when those loonies at that Inn were about to drown me. Yea, and Heath and I saved Jarrod's rear a few times too. I remember once when Pappy lost his memory due to a knock on the head. We rode in there and Jarrod shot at us. Of course, he recognized us eventually and all was well. And there was that time when we saved him from himself when he was about to kill the man who shot Beth, his first wife. I stood right in front of Jarrod and dared him to shoot me. Heath stood next to me---Pappy lowered the gun.

"Nick, did you hear what I said?"

Audra was in his face now. The lovely, fair Miss Audra. "I heard you!" he said, loud. "There's nothin' wrong with my hearing!"

"Then do you understand?" Eugene took up the conversation. "I came here to help Bridget.

Came at Heath's request. It had nothing to do with Mother."

Nick nodded. "Fine, college boy. But why did you come, Audra?"

Denton intervened. "There's no reason why Aunt Audra can't visit here when she wants. Uncle Nick, I believe you're distraught."

Ignoring all of those who were engaged in chatter, Nick spoke to the one who had grown quiet.

"Havin' second thoughts, Heath?"

The brother Nick did not know existed until the man was 24 years old met his eye. "Some," Heath muttered. Nick could not completely suppress a grin. One word answers were typical of Heath, and, the answer, as simple as it was, mean't he, Nick, could still size up a situation correctly. "I thought so."

Oh, you two!" Audra quickly put in, stomping her foot. "You've always been so exasperating!"

"I'll say," Eugene agreed. "I'll say it again---"

"No need, Gene," Nick cut in. "I believe you. Heath believes you, but Sis---"

As Nick's voice trailed off, Heath kept his eyes on Audra. Nick, too, stared at her. Denton, Jarrod's son, and as savvy as his father, took over. "Aunt Audra, Uncle Nick, and, apparently Uncle Heath now, seem to believe you may have given Grandmother something---"

"No!" Audra screamed. "No, I didn't. I didn't want to!"

"How did it happen, Aunt Audra?" Denton prodded.

"Bill, he---" the beautiful woman began, stopped, then began again. "He, we, he gambles, we've lost all of our money, he---"

There was a commotion behind them. Bill Coates was running. He didn't get far. Carson, Cletus, and Denton caught up to him quickly.

"Good Lord, Sis," Heath said, compassionately. "Why didn't you tell us?"

Audra did not answer. She was crying quietly in Nick's arms. Gene moved to them and Heath made it a four way embrace.

Nick left Audra in Gene and Heath's care. He walked over and knelt beside Bridget's wheelchair.

"So," he smiled at the girl. "How are you holding up?"

Bridget smiled. "I'm fine, Uncle Nick."

"I hear your Uncle Gene has big plans for you."

"He says I can maybe walk again. I hope so, but I have to--"

Nick felt the presence of Heath and heard his voice. "But what, Honey?" he asked his daughter.

"Well, Dad, I have to tell you, and Uncle Nick, something."

"Go on," Heath prompted.

Carson wasn't to blame for upsetting the buggy."

"What are you sayin'?" Heath questioned, harsh.

"Wait a minute! Are you tellin' me," Nick began roughly. "That you've blamed my son for something that wasn't his doin'?"

"No, not exactly," Bridget replied firmly. "The three of us were acting, oh, you know, dumb. Jumping around. The boys were standing on their heads, acting like fools. No one was driving. The horses spooked."

"And?" Nick encouraged his niece to continue, eyebrows arched.

"Finish it, Bridget," Heath ordered, stern.

"And Carson leaped on to the horses to stop them, to stop a runaway, the buggy hit something and upset. Clete was afraid to tell you, Dad, that we were being so irresponsible, so we blamed Carson."

"So it was no more Carson' fault than your own," Heath scowled at the wheelchair bound girl.

"No, it wasn't," Bridget agreed, tears tolling down her cheeks.

"Bridget, I swear--"

"Whoa, Heath," Nick intervened, grabbing his brother's arm, when it looked like the man might become aggressive with his daughter. "They were just kids, and I reckon they've paid enough for it."

"We've paid for it, Nick. Five years we haven't been together."

"Yea," Nick sighed, then turned as someone approached. It was Denton.

"Well, Carson and Clete are going to take Bill to the sheriff. He says he didn't give her anything, says he was planning to, but she was already gone."

"Likely story!" Nick shouted." He killed her, Denton!"

"Could be," Denton responded. "And we'll find out. I'll be representing him."

"What! No!" came a typical Nick response.

"Thank you, Denton," Audra murmered. "Maybe he's telling the truth. I didn't ask if he went through with it, I, uh, just assumed he did."

"It's what Dad would do," Denton told them. "It's what he would want me to do."

Heath heaved a heavy sigh. "Let's say somethin' over Mother. It's gettin' late."

Arm in arm, Eugene, Audra, Heath, Nick, and Jarrod's son, Denton, walked to stand beside the casket of Victoria Barkley. Silently, each recalled their memories of her. Gene remembered his mother's encouragement of him in the face of his more dominant brothers. Her words paid off.

Audra recalled all of the wonderful times she and her mother had, and the occasions when the woman had saved her life. The time Mother shot the neighbors son when he attempted to choke Audra, the times she fought evil to save her daughter, like on that stage ride when the girl was mute due to witnessing a tragedy, and the time Audra disappeared in a strange town.

Heath's memories were mostly of a woman who soothed and comforted him, eased him through the transition from his early years to being a Barkley, being a part of a family. He spoke aloud. "Boy Howdy, I'm gonna miss her. I remember when she forced that convict to help her overturn that wagon I was trapped under."

Nick grinned. Heath's Boy Howdy's did that to him every time.

When everyone walked away except the two of them, Nick fired a question at his brother. "Did you ever have such a feelin' in your gut, you couldn't ignore it?"

"Sure," Heath smiled warmly. "And I've always trusted your gut feelings."

"Yea, well," Nick squirmed around. "Maybe I should have held off until after Mother was in the ground."

"Then maybe," Heath rationalized. "You wouldn't have caught Audra off guard and she wouldn't have confessed."

"And, maybe, for the family, I mean, that would have been best," Nick sighed.

"Don't punish yourself, Nick," Heath said. "Jarrod would have agreed with you, and he was the fairest and most just man I ever knew."

Nick shook his head. "I miss Pappy, Heath. I'll tell you that, and I miss Mother too."

"Yea, me too, but life goes on."

"How bad's your back?"

Heath grinned. "I can still ride a horse, Nick, I just can't bust a bronc."

Nick smiled broadly. "Then, how 'bout if tomorrow we saddle up and take a ride around the ranch?"

"Suits me."

"Say," Nick said, animated now. "Did I hear you say there's food at your house?"

"Food! Boy Howdy, Nick, there's enough food there to feed an army. You comin' over later?"