Jarrod watched his new brother studying the passing landscape. They were only about thirty minutes from Stockton. His parents had departed for the dining car for coffee and to discuss Heath's introduction to the Stockton community. He watched with a slight grin as Heath tugged at the collar of his new white shirt. Just like Nick, doesn't like to be confined, he observed.

"I don't think Mother will mind if you loosen that up a bit," Jarrod suggested.

Heath looked relieved as he unbuttoned the top two buttons. "I ain't used to be trussed up. Never had store bought clothes before. They's awful itchy."

Jarrod recalled the battle of the wills earlier that morning. His mother bought Heath some new clothes in Sacramento, as well as underthings, shoes and socks. Heath thanked her but pointed out he had clothes, in a very determined voice. The battle ground was drawn. Heath's bull-terrier stubborness against his mother's iron will. Perseverance won out after a compromise. Heath agreed to wear the new pants and shirt, but wouldn't touch the shoes. His mother realized he needed something to hold on to from his old life and granted him that.

"Reckon ya got a lot of horses at the ranch," Heath inquired.

"We do." Jarrod replied, "Father loves horses and only buys the best stock. My horse is all black and named Lancelot."

"Like the knight?" Heath asked.

"The very same. Another favorite book we share." Jarrod nodded.

"I ain't got around to finishin' it," Heath admitted, "It was kinda hard to read. I liked the fightin' parts and the parts about bein' brave."

"I admire you for attempting that book so young," Jarrod praised, "Some parts are very difficult. I'll check the stores in San Francisco for new books."

"San Francisco?" Heath wrinkled his nose, "Don't ya live at the ranch?"

"Yes, but I'm starting college next week at Berkley University, which is near San Francisco."

"Oh," Heath said, slumping back in the seat.

"Hey, why so sad?" Jarrod asked, "I'll be back on some weekends and all the holidays. You'll be so busy, you won't miss me." He teased, patting Heath's leg.

"Yes, I will." Heath said seriously.

Jarrod felt a tug inside as he heard Heath's words. Unlike Nick, who wore displayed his emotions openly, Heath held his inside. He now had two brothers to look out for and guide. This insightful boy next to him was like both he and Nick in some ways. He had Nick's high-spirited air, stubborness, temper and love of the land. But like himself, he had a quest for learning, was insightful, inquisitive and a student of the world. He decided that maybe this youngest Barkley male housed the best combination of characteristics and hoped that would help him walk and grow on his new path.

"Iffen ya ain't too busy 'fore ya leave," Heath said shyly, peeping up at Jarrod. "Ya think maybe I could ride Lancelot? I ain't never had a horse of my own."

Jarrod, like his father, was rendered helpless by the emotive eyes. "Is this afternoon too soon?" He offered, realizing Heath needed him more than he needed to finish his entrance theory paper.

"Boy Howdy, it sure is!" Heath sat up, scanning the horizon, anxious to get off the train. "Jarrod, if ya want, I can take care of Lancelot while your gone. I know about horses, been workin' in the livery in Strawberry since I started school."

"Thanks Heath, I'll feel better knowing he's in good hands." Jarrod responded. "But don't forget you'll be busy with your own horse. Father has a fine string of ponies. You'll have a hard time deciding."

"Sure lookin' forward to that," Heath rattled in an excited pitch, "Once I save up some more. Is this 'nuf for the clothes?"

Jarrod looked down at the four coins in his brother' hand. He stared at the proud little face and cringed. He had only faint memories of the old house, when he was just younger than Heath. Somehow, it was a warm, good feeling. Saving up his pennies, helping his father tend to the small property. How great it felt when those pennies he saved earned him enough to buy new boots. He thought on what words to choose. He didn't want Heath to lose that feeling of self-reliance and industriousness.

"Jarrod?" Heath tugged his sleeve, "Did ya hear me?"

"Yes I did, Heath," Jarrod paused, not able to draw his gaze from the coins, "Uh, Heath, you don't have to pay for your clothes, shoes or other necessities. You're a Barkley now and we have plenty of money to cover those things. You'll have a lot of chores to do and Father will give you an allowance. You add those," He tapped the coins, "and start a savings account in the bank or maybe keep a piggy bank in your room. Then you have you own money to treat yourself."

"Why ain't my money good 'nuf?" Heath demanded, gritting his teeth.

There's that 'Nick face' Jarrod mused, almost laughing. "Your money is the best kind of money, Heath. It comes from hard work. It's the same money as Father makes. When he came to California with Mother, all he had was the a handful of money, like that, and a dream. He worked hard and the little piece of land they started out on grew and grew. He still works hard Heath, every day. The nice house, clothes and other luxuries because of that hard work. That's what being a Barkley means. Never forgetting when your roots are and remembering to work hard every day. So you see Heath, your money is just the same. Do you understand?"

Heath thought for several minutes before nodding and slipping the coins back in his pocket. Jarrod saw the familiar structures of the buildings in town emerge. He stood and placed a hand on Heath's back and pointed with the other one.

"Welcome to Stockton, Heath. There's the livery, saloon, general store, sheriff's office..." Jarrod pointed out as many buildings as he could. He felt his mother slip by and moved into the aisle. He hadn't realized his parents were back. He saw the gratified look on his father's face and didn't flinch at the strong hand on his shoulder.

"Sometimes, Jarrod, I forget just how blessed I am. That God saw fit to send my first born in such a perfect package. The eloquence that you use so easily is something I admire greatly." Tom paused, catching his breath, turning Jarrod's hands over, "I see the fine touch of God so very clearly in these gifted hands."

Jarrod swallowed hard and felt a swell of pride rising. He saw the raw emotion on his father's face and looked at the hands that gripped his wrists. The first word that flashed into his mind was 'strong', for as far back as he could remember. Hands that held him as an infant and guided his first steps. Hands that taught him to whittle, ride, shoot and all he learned about manhood. Hands of comfort, pride and love; holding him in grief and sorrow, protecting him and the tender touch when he was sick. He gazed in awe at the scars and callouses that marked years of persuasive perserverance. He returned the gesture and looked deep into his father's blue-gray eyes.

"You're the virtuoso, Sir and I'm only the student. I can only hope, one day, to earn that mantle."

Jarrod's touching delivery left Tom speechless. He embraced Jarrod, thanking God for such a gift and relieved that he hadn't lost him. He pulled back and nodded, gripping the back of Jarrod's head. "Boy, you picked the right profession," Tom choked, "You sure do have a way with words. Let's go home."

The wagon was waiting for them and they began the trip home. Heath eyed the passing landscape, wishing the horses would move faster. He couldn't wait to ride Lancelot. He frowned when his father reined the team in.

"Somethin' wrong?" He asked

"No, Son," Tom replied helping him down, "I want you to see something."

Heath had to walk fast to catch his father's long strides. He scrambled up an incline to the top of a peak. He took his father's hand until he got a foothold.

Tom put Heath in front of him and put both hands on his shoulders. He used his right hand to sweep across from left to right.

"All that land you see before you, as far as that horizon, is all Barkley land. One day, it will belong to you and your brothers."

Heath stared in amazement at the large brown and green quilt spread out as far as his eyes could see. "Y'all must have to get up pretty early to tend to it right."

As usual, Heath's words brought a smile to Tom's lips. He patted the boy's shoulder, "I have lots of men who work for me. They take care of the land. There are orchards of fruits, vegtables, nuts and grains. There are pastures full of cattle and very soon, with Dante's help, a vineyard."

Tom then took Heath down a path towards a cabin. Heath followed his father inside and looked around the empty rooms. He paused, seeing the name Barkley over the fireplace.

"Ain't no furniture in here. Did it get busted up or somethin'?"

"No Heath," Tom chuckled, "This isn't our home. This is the first house I built. Nick and Jarrod were both born here. It was my dream to have a piece of this fine valley for my sons. I started with a small piece of ground and get adding. I want you to remember this cabin, Son. Many nights I sat outside under the stars and dreamed of a fine home and horses. Always remember Heath how important it is to give your best every day. If you work hard, and believe in yourself, you can achieve anything. Never give up on your dreams, Son."

They paused again as they approached the gate, proclaiming their land. Heath eyed the sign bearing his new name and smiled.

"Sure is a fine looking sign." He proclaimed.

"It sure is, Heath." Jarrod agreed.

The white-columned house they pulled up to was the largest he'd ever seen. He followed Mrs. Barkley and Jarrod inside. A chandilier, just like in the hotel in town, hung from the foyer ceiling. A large parlor with a fireplace was on one side and a alcove on the other. A black man was coming down the staircase. Heath never saw such a staircase. He counted three doors upstairs and two hallways.

"Welcome home, Mrs. Barkley," Silas greeted, "Mr. Jarrod." He nodded, then spotted Heath.

"Silas, this is Heath. He will be living here from now on. He's Mr. Barkley's son."

"Welcome Mr. Heath." Silas greeted the boy, seeing Tom Barkley all over his face.

"Thanks, Mr. Silas, nice to meet ya," Heath replied, extending his hand.

"It's just Silas, Son, and I hope we'll be good friends," The servant took the hand and shook it.

"Jarrod, why don't you take Heath on a tour of the house, while I talk to Silas about lunch and dinner."

The downstairs had a lot of rooms and Heath's favorite was the library. It had more books than Good Shepherd. There were a lot of bedrooms upstairs and a bathroom with a big tub. Jarrod's room was full of books, maps and a large desk. Across the hall from Jarrod's room was a large playroom. Heath's eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped. It was littered with more toys, books, games, and dolls than he'd ever seen before.

"Can't be anythin' left in the store." He thought aloud.

"There all yours now Heath. Audra will be happy to show you every one toy in here."

Jarrod opened the door next to his and it revealed an elaborate pink and white wallcovering, canopy bed, small table and chairs, a large dollhouse and more dolls than he could count. A small girl with yellow hair was sleeping in the bed. Jarrod pulled the door closed and they moved away.

"That's Audra, she'll be glad to have a new playmate." Jarrod informed him. "This is Nick's room," He led Heath inside the large room.

Heath eyed the extensive room and spotted a tomahawk. It was on a chest of drawers along with arrowheads, and other Indian articfacts.

"Nick collects Indian relics," Jarrod noted.

"Sure is a big room," Heath noted, "seems like a lot of space for one person."

"Nick needs a lot of room, he shouts alot." Jarrod shook his head.

"Boys..." Victoria called, spotting them as they exited. "Heath, this will be your room," She said, opening the door next to Nick's room.

Heath went inside and eyed it carefully. It had a bed, chest, bureau and small desk . He walked over to the window and smiled. It had a perfect view of the corral. A large red horse was wildly jumping in the pen.

"Do you like it?"

He turned at her voice and decided it suited him fine. "Yes, Ma'am, it ain't too big like Nick's or too fancy like Audra's, it's just right." Heath declared, tugging her sleeve.

She bent down and he kissed her cheek, "Thank You," he said and then whispered, "I'm real sorry about bein' fussy this morning. I didn't mean to rile ya up none."

She smiled and cupped the handsome little face, "That's okay, Heath. Sometimes it's good to get riled up. Lunch will be in an hour. Why don't you lie down for awhile. Jarrod, try to find Nick for me."

"Will do, Mother. I'll get changed first. See ya later, Sport." He called to Heath.

Heath remained at the window eyeing the fine horse. He remembered the staircase Jarrod said led to the kitchen and out back. He found his way down and crossed the yard. He stood at the fence and eyed the large horse with a fine red coat.

"Sure is a fine horse." He said outloud.

"Took us a whole week to catch him. You should have seen the mares he had running with him."

Heath turned to see the source of the information. A older boy stood a few feet away from him. Not as big as Jarrod, but bigger than Patrick. He had dark hair and a face smudged with dirt.

"We're gonna start breakin' him this afternoon." The boy said.

Heath looked at him with a scowl and shook his head. He walked around the corral and stared hard at the horse. He spotted a large wooden building to the side and saw a group of cowboys eyeing him. He turned back to the bragging boy and shook his head.

"That horse ain't meant to be rode. He's a wind rider, ain't nobody gonna put a saddle to him, least of all you. Ain't you a little short for a ranchhand?"

"Listen here you mouthy, little runt," the boy growled, "Like something as puny as you knows anything about horses."

"Reckon I know a lot more than you," Heath tossed confidently, smirking at the boy's anger.

"What rock did you crawl out of anyhow? Where'd you come from? This is private property."

"You don't even work here." Heath flipped standing on the bottom rung of the corral.

"As a matter of fact I do and get down from there." He yanked the blond down and shoved his shoulder. "You best be gettin' home before I get mad."

"Like that scares me," Heath shot back, hands on his hips, "Besides I am home. I'm Heath Barkley and I live here."

"Well that's funny," The other boy glared, closing the short distance, "because I'm Nick Barkley, I've lived her for thirteen years and I never seen you before. So you take that trash talkin' mouth of yours home, you scrawny little liar."

"I ain't no liar," Heath growled, clenching his fists, "No way, no how. You take that back."

"You're right." Nick said, "You're a puny, mealy-mouthed, no-account, scrawny liar. Most likely your Ma was too." Nick shoved the smaller boy and turned away.

"You best say your sorry." Heath shouted.

Nick turned to say something but his words died as Heath slammed into him full force, with a good head butt.

Duke McCall looked up from the desk in the corner of the bunkhouse as Tom entered. He was going over the harvest schedule, irrigation project and the upcoming trail drive. His smile greeted his friend and employer. He'd been the first friend Tom made when he expanded his property. He recognized right off that McCall had what it took to be a tough, fair foreman. He was five years Tom's senior and well respected by the hundred men who reported to him.

"Hey Boss, welcome home," He extended his hand. "Buck left coffee on, how 'bout you rustlin' up a couple mugs. Dan stopped over on Monday and talked to Buck, Silas and I. How'd it go?"

"Better than I expected, Duke," Tom said, handing the other man a cup of coffee, "Wait until you meet him, he's quite a boy. I'll feel closure when that reptilian reprobate of an uncle of his is behind bars. He's awaiting sentencing."

"Reprobate?" Duke grinned, "Damn, Tom, you've been hanging around that college bound boy of yours too long."

Tom returned the smile and sipped his coffee, then became lost in thought. Duke had known the senior Barkley for close to twenty years and saw the worry lines.

"So, uh...how'd Jarrod take to his new brother."

"Huh..." Tom turned, "Oh, so far so good. Heath's quiet and extremely bright. He loves to read and is very inquisitive. Jarrod is a peacemaker, I wasn't worried about him." Tom smiled, thinking of his daughter, "Audra and Heath will mix fine." Then his face fell.

"Oh..." Duke sympathized and winced.

"Oh is right." Tom lamented. "Nick's got such a temper..."

"Hey Boss," Jake Daniels, a young hand interrupted eyeing Tom, "We got trouble outside. Nick's wrasslin' with some little yella-haired fireball."

Tom's face blanchd and his eyes widened, "What!" He sputtered, moving forward, "How can that be possible?"

"See for yourself..." Jake pointed out the open door.

"God give me strength!" He muttered walking through the dozen or so hands gathered round the scuffling scamps. "Nick get off of him!" He shouted, lifting the larger, heavier boy off his fiesty, fair-haired sparring partner. Both were covered with dirt and Heath's new shirt popped two buttons and was torn. Both sported rising colorful bruises and Nick was gonna have a black eye.

"Let me go!" Nick roared, "I aim to teach that lyin' little mongrel some manners."

"You're gonna get that temper under control or I'll dunk that hot head of yours in the trough!" Tom warned.

Nick glared but knew the steely-eyed gaze issued no idle threat. He nodded once and pulled his arms free, panting with rage. "Okay, but you ain't gonna believe what he just said. Come wanderin' in here, probably one of them Gypsy squatters, sure smells like one..."

Heath stood a few feet away, his blues eyes narrowed in contempt. His fists were balled up and there was no mistake in that clenched jaw.

"Damn..." Buck swore, coming up to stand beside Duke, "If that little colt ain't Tom's spit..."

"Oh, he's all Barkley alright," Duke grinned, "right down to that stubborn streak. Gonna make the next ten year around here very colorful. Kid sure has some fire in 'im."

"I ain't no Gypsy and I don't lie." Heath said slowly through clenched teeth. "I'm waitin'" He threatened.

"Don't hold your breath, runt," Nick sneered, "'cause I ain't about to apologize to a no-good, lyin' little...."

"Nick," Tom clapped a hand on his shoulder, "Now listen to me a minute..."

"Not until you hear the stuff he was sayin'...a pack of lies about him living here and being a Barkley. Go ahead and deny it, you no-account runt."

"I'm Heath Barkley and I'm waitin'" Heath reissued in a cold tone that caused those gathered to look at the little heir with more than a passing respect.

"See!" Nick said, waving a hand to illustrate his point, "Didn't I tell ya! He's off his rocker."

"Nick," Tom turned, placing both hands on his son's shoulders and looking him square in the eye, "I'm sorry you had to find out like this, It was not intended as such." He paused, motioning with his head for Heath to come closer. Heath waited several seconds and took a few tentative steps, ending at his father's elbow. Tom placed one hand on each boy's shoulder. "This is Heath Barkley, my son and your brother." He said to Nick, who immediately broke away, scowling."

"What are you saying? How can he be..." Nick sputtered, brow furrowed, "Is he some loser from an orphan's home or something?"

Heath strained against the arm holding him back and took an errant swing, which Tom grabbed. "Cut it out now!" He warned Heath, then turned to Nick, "No, he's not from an orphanage. Heath is my son."

Nick looked at Heath's face and then his fathers and saw past the red haze that rose in his eyes. Heath looked to much like his father not to be related. Nick threw off the hand and backed up, his face a mask of contempt.

"How could you?"

"That's not up for discussion now. I'll explain in the house. Now let's go." Tom ordered both red-faced boys.

"I ain't gonna anywhere with him," Nick claimed, hands on his hips.

"...and I'm still waitin'" Heath clenched, narrowing his eyes. If Tom wasn't so angry, Buck would have laughed. The kid was his old man all over again.

"I ain't apologizin' to no stinkin' little bastard," Nick growled, flinching as he realized his mistake too late. He was slammed against the corral gate and felt every muscle in his forearms crying for mercy as his father's hands gripped him.

"I will say this once," Tom seethed, eyes flaring, "This boy is Heath Barkley. He is my son and your brother. He will be treated with the same courtesy and respect as any Barkley." Tom leaned in just inches from Nick's frightened face, but it was clear to those present ever word was directed at them. "Don't you EVER call him that filthy name again or you'll answer to me, understood."

Nick felt his father's fury right down to his bones. He'd never seen his father so mad and it scared him. He lowered his head, not wanting the gathering crowd to see his face flush red. He was hoping his father would accept that. He was wrong. The strong hands that he emulated like no other, brought his head up painfully. There was no mistaking the icy blue eyes. He nodded reluctantly and pulled away.

"Heath, weren't you told to wait up at the house?"

"Yes, Sir," Heath admitted, "I'm real sorry, Pa, but I wanted to see the red horse. I never seen a wind rider close up. I's doin' fine and plannin' on headin' back inside when he...he said..." Heath stopped, chest heaving in anger at Nick.

"He said what?"

"He knows and he's gonna take it back," Heath growled, not giving an inch.

"Man, I thought Nick was stubborn," Duke whispered to Buck who was biting back a laugh.

"The hell I will..." Nick snapped, wincing before the reprimand came.

"Nick!" Tom growled, "What about the words 'Don't swear' don't you understand? I'm waiting for an explantion." Tom asked, eyeing both boys. His impatience was past the boiling point. Neither terrier budged an inch. "Fine...you both can think about it in your rooms all afternoon." He ordered, propelling each by the scruff of their neck. Heath pulled back and shook his head.

"Not until he's says it..."

Tom stared down at the defiant little blond in befuddlement. A look which sent Buck and Duke into a fit of chuckling. This soon rippled among the hands gathered. Tom shot a look that quieted the crowd, save Duke, who laughed outright.

"Something funny Duke?" He snarled.

"Hell yeah," Duke smirked, his face a mask of mirth. "'been waitin' years for this. Come on, Tom, you can't be that blind."

Tom's questioning eyes left Duke for Buck, who was unsuccessfully hiding his chuckle behind his hand.

"You too?" His eyes narrowed at the weathered caretaker.

"Well, Son," The older man said, slapping Tom on the back, "makes you appreciate what we've been puttin' up with all these years. That cub's got your glare...damn if he don't have your glare. It's a wonder Nick ain't fried to a crisp."

Tom glanced back at Heath, who's fired-up blue eyes hadn't left Nick's face. He struggled to control the quirk that threatened to upturn his lips. Scowling, he smacked Buck lightly.

"That's not funny." He turned "and you're not being' paid to stand around."

"If you say so Tom," Duke grinned, eyeing Heath. He squatted down and extended his hand. "Heath, I'm Duke McCall. I work for your Pa and I'm real glad to meet you."

"Same here, Kid," Buck toussled the fair hair.

"Thanks," Heath nodded, returning each man's handshake with a smile. Then the grin disappeared and he turned up the flame in his eyes, "Best get it done, so's we can eat lunch. I'm waitin'"

Nick eyed his father's face, well past the understanding point. He was already in trouble and didn't look forward to spending tomorrow in lock-up too. "Sorry..." He muttered.

"Shake." Tom ordered, clapping a hand on each tense shoulder. It took several minutes for the two grubby hands to meet, and the exchange was brief.

"I got work to do," Nick said, pulling away.

"I don't think so," Tom commanded, "You're going to get cleaned up, then we're having lunch as a family. Then both of you have some time coming upstairs. Let's go."

Victoria looked up in surprise when Tom came into the Dining Room with a hand on each boy's shoulder. They were covered in dirt, Heath's shirt was torn and Nick's pants were ripped. Each wore an identical look of anger. Before she could say a word, Jarrod began to laugh.

"Don't ask..." Tom said, reading his wife's shocked face. "You two, upstairs to get cleaned up. I'm warning both of you, I don't want to hear one word, not even a whisper from that bathroom. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Sir." They chorused.

"You've got ten minutes, get going." Tom drilled shoving them forward.

Jarrod lifted his glass of ice tea and made a toast, "Can't say it won't be lively around here."

Neither boy said a word. Heath sat on the edge of the tub and waited for Nick to finish. The dark-haired boy tore his shirt off and tossed it across the room. Heath eyed the other boy's developing muscles and tanned skin. He felt a pang of envy at his older brother's capabilities. It was obvious Nick worked with the men on the ranch. Probably did help catch that horse. He jumped up as Nick turned and glared at him.

"You may be his bastard, but you'll never be my brother." He threw the wet towel against the wall and disappeared into the hall. He had assessed the mouthy little blond well. He knew Heath wasn't the type to tattle. He was a tough little runt, Nick thought, who fights his battles himself.

Heath got up slowly and made his way to the sink. He washed his face and carefully took off his shirt and folded it. He sighed, gazing as his reflection. He swallowed hard, biting back the pain that rose in his tight chest. Jarrod, who he liked and would be a great brother, was leaving. Nick, who was living here, hated him. He heard a familiar lilt in his mind as Patrick's voice echoed there.

"Get yer chin up, Boy-o," It seemed to say, "Yer a Barkley now and to hell with anyone who says different."

Heath carried his shirt into his room and laid on the chest. He fished his favorite light blue shirt from his bag. He slipped it on and felt the familiar soft touch against his skin. He made his way downstairs and stood uncertain. Jarrod patted the empty chair next to him and Heath let out a relieved breath. Mrs. Barkley sat on his right and she looked mad.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am" He offered, "I didn't mean to bust up your lunch."

"See that you remember that in the future." She issued, "You are still recovering from a nasty cold and I wanted you to rest. Don't leave the house without telling someone."

"Yes, Ma'am." His head bobbed.

Nick pulled the chair out next to Audra and noisely slid into it. He picked up his napkin and started to pick up a piece of chicken, when his mother's raised eyebrow drilled into him. He rolled his eyes in frustration and dropped the poultry paw. Dropping her head, Victoria led the family in a short prayer.

"Lord, we are gathered here today before you in thanks. Thankful for the good health and bounty that you have provided us with. We are especially grateful that you have granted us such a gift in Heath. Please watch over him and guide him as you do with all your children. Amen."

Heath's head dropped and he felt a flush of embarrassement. His eyes shyly peeped over at her and he snuck his hand over to hers under the table. Victoria felt the small tug on her hand and saw the blue eyes thanking her. She smiled broadly, reading the emotive eyes clearly. Somehow, she felt God's grace very strongly in this young boy.

Heath eyed the overburdoned platters of chicken, potato salad, carrots and several kinds of bread. Another plate held several kinds of cheese, as well as some small green things.

"Olives..." Jarrod whispered, shaking his head, "You wouldn't like them." He nodded thoughtfully. When he had lunch, it was usually an apple or a small sandwich.

"Y'all got company coming?" He asked Jarrod.

"No, Son," Tom answered, seeing the boy's wide-eyed stare.

"You have fixins' like this every day?" Heath's voice raised, "Boy Howdy!"

"'Fixin's'?" Nick sneered, "'Boy Howdy'? What cornfield did you fall out of?"

"Nick!" Tom warned, pointing his fork.

"Yeah, I know..." Nick moaned, taking a mouthful of chicken.

"It wasn't no cornfield." Heath replied quietly, staring at Nick, "It was a town called Strawberry. I had right nice house and a mother who loved me and taught me manners. Seems to me somebody should teach you some."

Jarrod grinned and saw his mother and father exchange a surprised look. Tom worried about Nick's volatile nature and sharp mouth. He worried that Nick's brasive nature would hurt Heath. But the boy was holding his own.

"Your right Heath," Victoria agreed, "Sometimes Nick forgets his manners." She stared, "Isn't that right, Nicholas?"

Nick swore silently and felt his mother's eyes boring into him. He nodded and shrugged, going back to his meal. Audra watched the exchange and gave Heath her best smile. She decided she liked the new brother. Besides, he had yellow hair too and that was surely special. She left her seat, walked over to where he sat and kissed his cheek. He blushed and gave her a half grin, taking her small hand and nodding. She returned to her chair and made face at Nick. The older boy shook his head and returned to his meal. He's got them all fooled, but I know better. They'll find soon enough how wrong they are.

THings to cover in next part . 4) Nick wkes up hearing H caling, finds hims screaming abotu scirors attck, wakes up,Heath cowers terrifeid, Jesus, Nick backs up, he thinks I'm gonna hurt him. Warns H to cut it out etc. 5) Wens first day at school, Nick arives tired lookign, blames H, You would bne too if you ddin't get any sleep for three days. What? ACarrying on like a bansheed, about sscioros or somrhting, V- to T- Has he talke about it yhou you? T- No, Brorth F says he won't discuss it, I'll try to talk to him. N to V- What he's mean. it was just a crazy dream. V NO it wasn't. He's been through a lot this last y0oue. He nes a brother and a freiend. N- Don't look this way! makes a hasty bacon and egg sandwit and leaves, "I'll be saddling cocoa." T and H talke about incident.

Victoria was alone in the parlor, finishing up some needlepoint. She glanced at the mantle clock and saw the hour of nine. An unusally quiet Friday night; ending one of the longest days she'd remembered. She placed the stitchery in the basket by her feet and stretched. She was about to make a cup of tea, when a slamming door took her into the foyer. Nick flew by in a blur, pausing long enough to look at her in disgust and fly up the stairs. She continued across the foyer and into Tom's study. He was standing in front of the French doors, trying to find a bit of a breeze.

"It sounds like that went well." She commented, sauntering across the room.

"Nothing got broken," He replied, trying to find something positive.

"Except Nick's heart." She added wistfully, seeing the pain in Tom's eyes. Nick idolized his father and she knew how much Tom was hurting. Nick's rejection was a hard blow. She poured two brandies and followed him outside. A light from the lamp on the side of the door flickered, sending a golden cast on his handsome face. She handed him one of the glasses and ran her hand through his hair.

"How do I get that look out of his eyes..." He murmured, downing the fiery liquid.

"Oh, I imagine that will take some time." She paused looking across the yard to the corral. "He's hurt, Tom, his image of you has been shattered. He found out that his hero is human and very fallible."

She turned back to where he was slumped on the iron bench, unbuttoning his collar. She sat down next to him and drew his face close. She kissed him tenderly, a sweet offering under the stars. She nestled her head on his shoulder and took the rough hand in her two. They sat like that for some time, thinking on the road ahead.

"We should go to see Peter Carrington tomorrow about enrolling Heath in school." She said of the Dean of the Stockton School for Boys, where Nick attended.

"We'll ride in after lunch. Jarrod and I are taking Heath on a tour of the ranch after breakfast." Tom agreed, "That presents another problem. I wasn't expecting a miracle; I knew Nick would be upset. But I'd hoped, somehow, he'd look out for Heath in school, until he gets settled in. We both know what kinds of name calling he'll endure." Tom worried, rubbing a hand across his weary eyes.

"Yes," Victoria thought aloud, "But we also know he's a survivor. He's been fighting battles most of his life. He's strong, Tom, and very tenacious. He won his first battle today at the corral. Nick is a bigger opponent, but he never gave an inch. That's not something he learned in any book. As far as Nick, maybe he'll see Heath in a new light, when he's in that environment. He might not be award of how protective he is by nature."

Tom stood and stretched, suddenly very weary and in need of the soft bed upstairs. He eyed the strong woman he'd married, realizing how much he needed her. As if she read his mind, she smiled and took his hand. They walked back into the house and towards the foyer. Tom was lost in thought and had one foot on the grand staircase, when his wife pulled him back. She pointed into the parlor, where Heath sat, in his nightshirt.

"Heath? Why aren't you in bed?" Tom asked, walking closer.

Heath stood and looked at both adults. His eyes flicked back to Tom. "I needed to talk to ya Sir, if ya ain't too busy."

Victoria bent over and kissed to top of the blond head and gave his shoulder a squeeze, "Goodnight Heath, I'll see you at breakfast."

"Yes, Ma'am, goodnight." Heath nodded.

Tom took a seat next to the pensive boy and studied the troubled face. Heath squirmed, his face screwed into a puzzle.

"Just spit it out, Son." Tom advised, "Fidgeting won't make it any easier."

"It's about Nick," Heath stated.

"I know today was difficult Heath, and Nick has an awful temper. This was a great shock to him and it will take him some time to adjust."

"Yes, Sir," Heath sat back, "I saw him come upstairs a little while ago and he sure looked mad. I knew ya was talkin' to him...about me...and my Mama." Heath paused, and felt the strong hand on his back, the rubbing motion relaxed him. "I was worried on ya..."

"You were worried about me?" Tom's voice rose as he studied the serious little face and saw the head nod.

"I wanted ya to know, I'll be fine." Heath looked up. "Nick don't scare me none, I can handle him. I know school will be startin' soon and I'm glad. I like learnin' about stuff." Heath paused, and looked right into the blue-gray eyes of this father. He rested his small hand on the larger one. "I...uh..." he took a deep breath, "I been called a bastard before and licked every fool who talked bad about my Mama. So don't ya go worryin' on me."

The effort of the last sentence took a little steam out of him and he leaned against his father. Tom swallowed hard, welcoming the swell of pride rising in his chest. At the same time, the pain of his actions bit deeply. That this special boy of his, should suffer the slings and arrows of bigotry because of him. He wondered if he was worthy to be the father of such a child. Standing the boy in front of him, he rested both hands on the straight shoulders.

"I'm very proud of you, Heath, for so many reasons. For taking such good care of your mother and working so hard. For not backing down to Nick today, that told me alot about you." Tom smiled, rubbed the back of the boy's blond hair, "Most of all, for being a boy I'm proud to call my son." He pulled Heath closer, into a strong embrace and kissed his cheek.

"I'm glad," Heath smiled, "I never had a Pa before..." His voice dropped and he looked up at Tom warmly, through Leah's eyes, "I wasn't sure...iffen we'd fit right. But you know, I think we're gonna do just fine."

"We sure are, Son," Tom beamed, "Now that we settled that problem, are you ready for bed? Do you want a glass of milk?"

"No, Sir, I'm fine." Heath following his father up the stairs. He stopped suddenly and trotted back into the parlor where he picked up a small leather pouch. Tom was at the top of the stairs when Heath caught up to him.

"What's this?" Tom asked, opening the pouch.

"It's our money." Heath replied, spotting Tom's confused face as he fingered the pile of coins, "Isn't that right? Jarrod said my money was just like yours. Because we both worked hard to get it. So, I wanted you to have it, so's you could put it with yours to help with the ranch. Once I get a job, I'll be able to give ya more." Heath boasted, trotting to his bed.

Tom stood dumbstruck by his son's simple logic. He replaced the coins and made his way to Heath's bed. He tucked the small by in and brushed the hair off his forehead. He fingered the small pouch with reverence. He smiled down at this golden child, wondering how such a small body housed so much integrity.

"You're right, Heath. Working hard pays off, and is the best way to make money. By doing it honestly. How about if we go to the bank tomorrow and open up an account for you. Both of your brothers have one there. Then, when you get your allowance, you can add to your account."

"Well," Heath yawned, "I reckon that'd be okay, iffen ya don't need it right off."

"Good." Tom sighed, bending and kissing his son's forehead, "Goodnight, Son."

"Goodnight Pa," Heath mumbled, turning on his side, "Sure is soft bed. Like sleeping in a cloud..."

Tom remained by the boy's side, rhythmically stroking his back until the soft sounds of his breathing were deep and regular. He made his way to the door, pausing at the picture of Leah and Heath on the chest. His eyes lingered for a moment, remembering her contagious laughter. He slipped out into the hall and down to the bathroom. After washing, he made his way to his bedroom and slipped out of his clothes. Victoria was waiting for him. She snuggled against him, running her hands on his firm chest.

"Everything okay?" She asked, feeling his arm automatically brushing her hip.

"Yeah...He was worried about me." Tom's voice was still amazed, "He saw Nick's face and put the pieces together. Not only is he not afraid of Nick, but is prepared to fight any fool who calls him a bastard or insults Leah. Maybe I underestimated him. But he's only nine..."

"In years maybe, but much more mature. He's had to grow up faster than most boys his age." She murmured, pulling his face close and kissing him, "Feeling lucky Cowboy?" She teased turning to meet him.

Breakfast was quiet. Victoria noted that Heath took very little food. Just a small amount of eggs and ham. He drank both his milk and juice. She saw him staring at the cinnamon rolls and was about inquire why he didn't take more, but thought better of it. She glanced at Nick, whose appetite wasn't affected by the heated discussion the night before. The color and pattern of the china was completely obscured. Audra hopped of her chair and stood by Heath.

"Sarah is glad you're living with us. She's upstairs waiting. Let's go..."

"Sarah who?" Heath asked, eyeing the cinnamon rolls but refraining for taking one.

"Our baby! You can be the Papa, Come on...

"Audra, Heath is not finished eating," Victoria stated, "and he's already made plans for today. Maybe you can show him the playroom before supper tonight."

"I don't wanna wait 'til supper," She whined, stomping her foot.

"Quit whinin', will ya Audra." Nick complained, "Your giving me a headache."

"You are a headache." She parroted, then paused at the laughter that followed, not realizing what she said.

"Very funny," Nick growled, making a face at Jarrod.

Heath stood and prepared to take his plate into the kitchen.

"Where's Heath going, Mama?" Audra asked.

"Probably out the back door with our china and silverware." Nick scoffed.

"Nick!" Tom warned, "Don't start or you'll be in your room today as well."

"Heath, where are you going?" Victoria asked, as he passed her chair.

"To wash the dishes out back at the pump." Heath answered, confused at his actions being quesitoned. Save Nick, who continued to eat, he saw all the eyes trained on him. He looked at Victoria and explained himself, "Iffen ya break it, ya fix it; iffen ya dirty it, ya clean it up, that's the rule."

"Those are very good ideals Heath." She answered "We have a pump in the kitchen, by the sink," Victoria supplied, "That's not necessary, Silas takes care of the cooking and cleaning. If you did his job, he wouldn't have one. You don't want him to leave, do you?"

"No Ma'am," He answered eyeing Silas's hand coming for the plate, "I's used to doin' for myself, . Silas, I didn't mean to insult ya."

"That's okay, Son," Silas smiled, taking the dish, "Your Mama be right proud."

"Thanks..." Heath whispered, eyeing the dark-skinned man. He tugged the white jacket until Silas bent down. "Iffen ya ever need help. Y'all let me know, okay?" Heath asked, holding his hand out.

"Okay," Silas replied, shaking on the deal. He smiled all the way to the kitchen. "That sure is a fine little boy, Yes Sir,' He mumbled as the door closed.

"Well, Heath, how about a tour of the ranch?" Jarrod suggested.

"Can I ride Lancelot?" He asked, trotting to Jarrod's side.

There's those eyes again, Jarrod grinned, once again sucked in by the imploring blue pools.

"I'll tell you what, Heath." Tom suggested, "I have a string of ponies housed just north of here. How about we ride over and you can pick out your own horse."

"Boy Howdy!" Heath grinned, taking Tom's arm and tugging "Let's go, before somebody else gets there first."

"Hold on there, Tiger," Tom wrapped him in a bearhug, "Can I finish my breakfast first?"

"Well..." Heath thought for a minute, "I reckon that'd be okay. Can I go look at the wind rider?"

"The what?" Jarrod asked, puzzled.

"The red stallion that the boys caught this week. He's out in the pen." Tom answered.

"Why do you call him that?" Jarrod asked his brother who squirmed to free himself from his father's grasp.

"Come on, I'll explain it," Heath said, tugging at Jarrod's arm.

"Go on, Jarrod, I'll meet you at the stable." Tom nodded.

Jarrod had to hurry to keep up with his youngest brother. Heath climbed up onto the bottom rung and watched the wild horse fighting against his restraints.

"He ain't meant to be carrying anyone, just the wind riding his back." Heath prophetized.

"How can you be so sure?" Jarrod asked, studying the fine horse.

"'cause I know about horses." Heath said simply.

Jarrod was not surprised by the conviction in his brother's words, but was taken aback by the maturity in his voice. They watched the beautiful animal for awhile, then Jarrod pulled Heath down.

"So do want to meet Lancelot or not?" Jarrod teased.

"I'll race ya!" Heath replied, running ahead.

Tom finished his breakfast and made his way to the barn. He paused in the doorway, watching how relaxed Heath was with Jarrod. The small blond boy was sitting proudly on Lancelot, with Jarrod's arm on his waist. Jarrod hoisted him down and began to tickle him. Tom's caught his breath when the infectious giggle filled the air. Leah had bestowed yet another lasting gift on this wonderous child. Her brave heart, her emotive eyes and that wonderful laugh.

Jarrod studied the nearly identical profiles of his father and brother as they rode beside him. He eyed the large hand protectively nested around Heath's midsection. A natural fit, he thought. His father could barely keep up with Heath's questions. The breeding grounds loomed up over the crest of the hill. Heath's grin widened when he saw all the horses in the corrals outside.

Jarrod slid off Lancelot and helped Heath dismount. The younger boy scampered ahead, climbing up and hanging over the fence.

"Look Jarrod!" He cried pointing, "Ain't they the best horses ya ever seen."

"They certainly are, Heath." Jarrod agreed, eyeing the expensive breeding stock.

"Come on over here, Son," Tom called.

Heath scampered over and Tom put a hand around his shoulders. A half dozen men were milling about, inside of a large barn and outside near the corral. Heath recognized one of the men he met yesterday.

"Hey there, Young Fella," Duke greeted, ruffling Heath's fair hair, "You gonna pick out a pony, huh"

"Yup," Heath stated, following his father and brother.

"Go on Son," Tom pointed to several ponies prancing around.

Heath walked around the fencing and eyed each pony carefully. They were all nice; it wouldn't be an easy choice. He studied all of them, but one kept drawing his eye back. He looked up at his father and nodded.

"Can I have a look at that black one," He pointed.

"Duke," Tom nodded, indicating the other man to bring the pony over for his son.

"Boy's got a good eye," Duke commented, "The Morgan is the best of the group." He noted of the black pony that stood 15 hands high. He was a handsome horse with a fine muzzle, large round eyes, the luxuriant, long mane and tail, sloping shoulders and a broad back.

Heath stood by his father while Duke singled out the horse and urged him around the pen. They stopped in front of the three Barkley's.

"He's got a good trot," Heath noted, squinting hard not to miss anything, "real even and light."

"Get a load of the little inspector," Duke elbowed his boss as Heath squatted to examine the pony's hooves.

"No cracks," He spoke, then stood and looked in the equine's eyes "ain't runny...Hey there fella," He spoke softly, brushing the horses neck. The animal nuzzled him, "He ain't nippy and his ears didn't go flat" Heath assessed, "and he ain't buckin' none."

Duke grinned at Tom's expression, a mixture of mirth and puzzlement. Duke put an arm on the boy's back.

"So does he pass inspection?"

"Yes, Sir," Heath grinned, turning to his father, "Okay Pa?"

"More than okay, Heath," Tom replied, "That's the best of the lot. Are you sure?"

"Yup," He nodded, stoking the horse's mane.

"So what are you going to name him, Heath?" Jarrod asked, studying the fine horse.

"Don't know yet," Heath replied, "Reckon I'll study on it a bit."

"How'd you come by all that?" Duke asked the pint-sized expert.

"I got a feel for horses." Heath answered. " Mr. Lutz says it's a gift."

"Who's Mr. Lutz?" Jarrod asked.

"He was my old boss." Heath replied, "He gimme my first job."

"First Job?" Duke scowled and narrowed his eyes, "How many jobs have you had?"

"Well, I started at the livery when I was six, I reckon," Heath nodded, "then when Mama got sick, I done her job too, at the hotel."

"Well, it sure is good to know we got us a real good judge of horse flesh on the payroll, Heath." Duke complimented. "Jarrod, why don't you show Heath those new foals in the barn."

"I'll bring him back to the house, Tom," Duke said of the ebony pony, "That's some cub you got there." He noted of Heath. "He picked up on the Morgan right off."

"Well, like the boy said," Tom beamed, "He knows something about horses. We're going in town later, I'll stop and get him a saddle. Thanks Duke." He clapped his friend's back.

Peter Carrington had been the Prefect at the Stockton School for Boys for several years. The bespeckled, fifty-year old former professor enjoyed his job. He was strict but fair and commanded respect. He was a firm believer in discipline and every boy who attended, knew to tow the mark. The course of study was challenging but not overwhelming. He encouraged the boys to expand their horizons. He was preparing the course outlines and schedules for the new year, when his secretary announced that the Barkley's wanted to see him.

He considered Tom Barkley a good friend and respected the prosperous rancher. Jarrod had been a teacher's dream; an excellent student, whose integrity and leadership would be missed. Nick was a bright boy, but a discipline problem and scholastically an underachiever. He stood and greeted the couple and noticed the small blond boy who stood behind Tom.

"Tom, Victoria, always a pleasure," He enthused, shaking Tom's hand. "What can I do for you?"

"We've come to enroll Heath in school," Victoria replied.

"Heath is my son," Tom explained, "and has just joined our family. I have his records and a letter from Brother Francis at Good Shepherd where he was most recently staying."

Peter was caught off guard for a moment, but being a professional, he recovered quickly. He held out his hand to the small boy. "It's nice to meet you, Heath, I'm Mr. Carrington."

"Hello," Heath replied, "I never been in a school this big. Are you a teacher?"

"I was for many years, but now I am the administrator here," He answered, seeing Tom Barkley stamped on every feature in the boy's face.

"Does that mean you're the boss?" Heath guessed.

"It does," Peter answered, "Why don't you take Heath for a tour and I'll review his records. He'll need to take an entrance exam, so I can assess his skill level."

"Okay, Peter," Tom answered, "We'll be right back."

Heath followed his father around the school, wide-eyed and amazed. The school in Strawberry had been one small room, with hardly any space for the occupants. This three level building had many classrooms, a library, a laboratory, a large room to eat midday meals, an infirmary, offices and a large recreation yard in the back.

"Well, what do think?" Tom asked, seeing the blue-saucers absorbing every detail.

"It's right nice," Heath decided. "Reckon I best get to that test."

The test would take about an hour, Peter told them and Victoria and Tom decided to do some shopping. Tom wanted to get Heath a saddle and Victoria wanted to get Heath some more clothes, and underthings. Audra needed clothes too, as she would be attending the Stockton Day School. When they returned nearly an hour later, they were surprised to find Heath waiting for them. He hopped off the bench outside the administration office and got a hug from Victoria.

"All done?" She asked

"Yes, Ma'am," He replied, "Some parts was hard, but pretty much it was okay. Mr. Carrington's reading it over. I wish he'd hurry, I sure am hungry."

"You should have eaten more lunch," Victoria warned, recalling the small amount of food he'd consumed.

"Well, I would have but I didn't know what that was," Heath admitted of the pink fish wrapped in a pastry shell, "so I just ate the peas and stuff."

"It was salmon and you should have tried some," She explained, "How else would you know if you liked it?"

"Well, it smelled like fish and sometimes that ends up coming back up." Heath wrinkled his nose "I didn't want to take no chances."

"Oh," Victoria frowned, squeezing his hands. "I'll try to remember that in the future. I guess we can get you something in town. Next time, you tell me. Silas would have made you something else."

"That's okay, Ma'am" Heath looked up at her, "I gone without lunch lots of times. I wouldn't want to put Silas to no trouble. He's already got an awful lot to do."

Before Victoria could reply, Peter opened the door and called them in. He asked Heath to wait outside.

"How did he do?" Tom asked anxiously.

"I read the information you supplied while Heath was taking the test. No doubt his earliest years in school were limited. From Brother Francis's assessment, Heath really applied himself at Good Shepherd. I took all that in consideration, and was about to make an allowance. But the results were rather amazing." Peter paused and took a long drink on water. "I discounted the Science element, Heath told me he only read a little about that at Good Shepherd. But I have complete faith he'll catch up fine. As you can see," He handed the test to Tom, "His aptitude is exceptional and I feel he has great potential. His math scores were perfect, as were the scores in history and reading. Spelling and Grammar need some work, but all in all, he's a very bright boy. I think he'll do nicely."

"Thanks, Peter," Tom stood, shaking the Prefect's hand, "I appreciate you taking the time to do this today. We didn't have time to make an appointment, with school starting on Wednesday. Thanks for being so understanding about the situation," Tom shifted uncomfortably.

"Not at all," Peter dismissed, "I detest any form of bigotry and will take severe methods of punishment to any boy who causes reproach. I spoke with Heath after he completed the exam; the oral interview is a part of the test. I was very impressed. He has a good outlook on life, considering his impoverished beginnings. He's a good boy, Tom, he'll do fine here."

With a final nod, the family departed. Heath wasted no time unbuttoning the top three buttons on his shirt and giving an exaggerated gasp of air.

"Oh Heath really," Victoria teased, "Why is it none of my sons can present themselves like a little gentlemen?"

"Huh?" Heath asked, making a face.

"Nevermind," She sighed, taking Tom's arm, "Let's go home before this boy passes out from hunger." She teased.

Heath slowed his pace on the long driveway outside the school, and trailed behind them. He cocked his head and frowned. He knew he heard right. He was sure she said it.

"...my sons..." he murmured. "She meant me too."

Heath stopped at the small pond halfway down the long drive. He sat down on the small iron bench and felt his heart pounding in fear. He licked his dry lips and felt his chest tighten in anxiety. He liked her; she took good care of him, worried on him, bought him nice clothes and wasn't fussy like some rich folks. She gave good hugs and smelled real nice. He liked it when she hugged him; it made him feel wanted. He didn't want her to go away, too. He felt tears welling up, and felt all torn up inside. He wanted to be her boy, but not if it meant her going to heaven, like Mama did.

"Heath, I think Silas has some chicken leftover, I'm sure..." She turned, and frowned not seeing the blond head, "Heath? Heath?"

"Where is he?" Tom asked, eyeing the long driveway. "There..." He pointed, seeing the solitary figure slumping by the pond.

"He looks flushed," Victoria worried, spotting the coloration on his cheeks as she sat next to him, "Heath are you not feeling well? Honey, are you okay?" She laid a hand to his forehead and he jumped up startled and panting.

"Huh? I'm fine..." He mumbled, staring at her hard for a moment and clenching his jaw. He skirted past them to the buggy.

"What was that all about?" Tom wondered, "He looked scared to death."

"Perhaps I frightened him," She thought aloud, "He was deep in thought and I touched him."

"But you don't think so" Tom guessed, reading her eyes.

"No," She recalled the terrified look in his eyes, "I think he's hiding something, something very painful. Whatever brought it on so quickly?" She wondered as the drastic change in his personality.

"Maybe he's just tired," Tom hoped, "It's been a long day and he's still got a little bit of a cough."

"Maybe..." She agreed, as they reached the wagon. But she tried to meet the boy's eyes and he turned away. She thought on that haunted look all the way home. Heath's appetite disappeared and he only showed a passing interest in his new saddle. Victoria managed to get him to eat a little soup and suggested a nap. She looked in on him later; smiling at Audra curled up next to him. Heath had one arm flung protectively around her small shoulders. Victoria watched his features relaxed in sleep and wondered how to chase that hurt look from his eyes.

Nick Barkley pulled his boots on and stared out at the glorious sunshine filling his bedroom. Sunday afternoon was his favorite time of the week. Church was over and he'd suffered through lunch. It was time to relax. Each Sunday afternoon he met his three best friends down by the river for fishing or swimming or just plain daydreaming. He paused and watched out the window where his father was talking to Duke and Buck by the bunkhouse. He could hear the faint echoes of their laughter and spotted his so-called brother at his father's side. Tom Barkley's hand was around his youngest son's shoulders and Nick felt a pain stab him. He scowled and picked up his fishing rods and departed.

"Nick?"

He turned in the foyer, hearing his mother's voice. She was coming in from the back of the house with a basket of roses. She took great pride in the Rose Garden and had recently expanded it and added a pavilion for when they entertained. She set the basket down and approached her brooding child.

"I wouldn't want to be in his shoes," She chided, brushing a stray lock of hair from his eyes.

"Whose shoes?" Nick frowned.

"Whoever it is that put that dark cloud over your face. What's wrong?"

"Nuthin'" He turned, "I'll see ya at supper."

"Nick..."

"What?" He scowled impatiently, brows furrowed, "I gotta go." He read the suggestion in her eyes before it had a chance to pass through her lips. "No way." He issued sternly, eyes glaring, "I ain't takin' that no account runt with me. He'll find a pack of his own kind to run with." He was out the door when he heard the tone in her voice drop.

"Come back in this house now."

He placed his gear by the door and walked back inside. He was about to loudly address the interruption, but one look at her face chased any thoughts of argument away. He backed up slightly as she stood in front of him.

"You will not refer to him in that manner again. His name is Heath and you will start addressing him as such. Do you have any idea how difficult this is for him? You have the younger brother you always wanted, and it's high time you learned to accept the fact that he is here to stay."

Nick wanted to argue back. They couldn't make him accept the little bastard. He picked his own friends. But his mother's gray eyes were glinting with hostility. One wrong word and he'd be in his room for a week. He'd play their game. With school starting Wednesday, he'd be gone most of the day. The runt wouldn't say anything.

"Nicholas, Do I make myself clear?"

"Can I go now?" He asked after he nodded.

"Be home by six o'clock." She warned, retracing her steps and picking up the basket of roses.

He had Coco saddled and was heading out when his father's voice called out.

"Nick, hold up a minute."

Nick pulled the reins in and waited for his father to reach his side. He noticed the runt was missing. He bit off the urge to comment. The kid had been his father's shadow since he arrived.

"I want to talk to you about Heath."

"Oh for the love of God," Nick dramatized, rolling his hazel eyes. "Will it never end? What now?"

"I know this was a rough adjustment for you and I'm sorry for that. But the fact remains you're his big brother now and he's going to need your help this week. Starting at a new school is hard enough, but he's got a whole lot of extra baggage. I want you to look out for him. See that he gets settled in right."

"Seems to me he's been doin' fine on his own so far. That mouth of his has an answer for everything."

"So does yours," Tom warned, eyeing the fishing poles and giving Nick a threatening look. "I'm not asking for a lot here Nick. I don't want him to get hurt. Watch out for him on the way to school and check on him during the day. Make sure he gets home safe."

Nick felt the pressure cooking inside and was sure his head would explode. It took all of his reserve not to launch into a list of reasons why he wouldn't do this. But he was smart and knew that would be an exercise in futility. He'd warn the runt and lay down his own law once they got out of earshot of the ranch.

"Yeah, okay." Nick snorted, "Can I go now?"

"Yes, but remember, I have your word. If he gets hurt..."

"I can't hold his hand all day." Nick grumbled, "If he gets in a scrap it's because he's bullheaded."

Nick turned Coco away and rode down the path towards the river.

Cody, Will and Jack were waiting for him when he got here. Cody had been his best friend since first grade. Unlike Nick, the dark haired boy was overly gregarious by nature. His perennial smile and laugh sometimes got on Nick's nerves.

"Who pee'd in your oatmeal, Barkley?" Cody Wells smirked as Nick approached, clutching his fishing rods like he was breaking a chicken's neck.

"Shut up, Wells or I'll have to drown ya," Nick threatened, tossing the smirking boy a dark look.

"Hey Nick," Will Travis asked, his chestnut hair already curling in ringlets, "I heard Mrs. Simmons in the General Store talking about your old man."

"Is it true, Nick?" Jack Weaver's blue eyes danced, as he elbowed the fury-faced Barkley, "Your Pa whelped some kid and he's living with ya now?"

"Yeah..." Nick threw himself down on a rock and fixed his line, "It ain't bad enough he's living with us, I got to babysit the little bastard when we start school this week."

"What's he like?" Cody asked, frowning at Nick's words.

"What's it matter? He's a nobody. I aim to make that no account pest sorry he ever set foot on this ranch." Nick prophetized, casting his line. "I don't want to talk about it no more."

After wrestling, swimming, fishing and playing dice, the quartet broke up close to five p.m. Will and Jack left first, Cody deliberately idled behind.

"How come he's living with you?"

"His Ma died and some interferin' busybody came to see my father. The runt was living some drunken uncle up north. Should have left him there." Nick tossed, tying his poles to his saddle.

"That's a shame." Cody thought outloud, "Must have been hard on him."

"Why are you stickin' up for him?' Nick wheeled, eyes hot, "I thought you were my best friend."

Cody's resident smile faded and he walked over to Nick. Nick felt the dark eyes penetrating and flinched. Cody was seldom was without the grin, and Nick winced at the uncharacteristic hard face. "You got no idea, and I hope to God you never do Nick, of what it's like to lose your Ma. Let me give you a clue," He leaned in and gritted his teeth, "It hurts like hell and I didn't have no damn drunken uncle wailin' on me. Yeah, I heard the rumors too. Seems to me this kid gots some kind of guts, and you ought to ashamed."

Cody stared at Nick long and hard, the pain in his eyes caused Nick to turn away. He felt his face flush and fiddled with the saddlebags. He heard the horse leave and paused, thinking on Cody's words, then he headed for home. Didn't Cody see how different it was? Cody's Ma and Pa were married and sure he felt bad when Mrs. Wells died last year, but this was different. How would he feel if some kid showed up and took over? If Cody didn't understand, the hell with him too. He could wipe the runt's nose.

Wednesday

Victoria watched Heath and Nick ride away, and waited for Tom to bring the buggy around. She was taking Audra to her first day of school. The six year was very excited and had changed her dress three times. She eyed the two figures until they became specks. She wasn't quite sure what to make of Nick's nearly cheerful disposition as they left.

"Mama, Mama."

"Yes Audra," She eyed the impatient child.

"The buggy's here." She ran down and got hoisted in the air by her father. Her giggles filled the morning air and Victoria let the lagging thoughts drop.

They were about a mile from the ranch when Heath saw Nick stop. Heath rode up to him and paused, wondering what was wrong. He glanced around the road, but didn't see anything out of line.

"Listen up, Runt," Nick warned, "I ain't gonna repeat myself. We're gonna do this my way. You can ride to school and back with me, but you keep that trap of your shut. Don't get any ideas about trailin' around behind me when we get there, you're on your own. Got it?"

Heath nodded and watched Nick ride away. He had to hurry to keep up. The rode off the property and took a short cut, to a cutoff where another boy waited. Heath flicked a glance at Nick who nodded to the boy. Heath felt himself relax, and was surprised when the boy let Nick pass and reined in beside him.

"I'm Cody Wells," He nodded, "How ya doin'?"

"Okay, I'm Heath." He replied, liking the broad smile that welcomed him.

"Listen, you'll do just fine. The first day is always a little hard. Let's see..." Cody paused, thinking, "Danny Miller, Joshua Collins and Mike Larimer should be in your classes. They're all real nice, won't give ya any trouble." Cody offered. He watched Heath nod, and realized that the younger boy understood his message.

Heath sat alone at the end of a table in the large dining hall. He'd only met one of the boys Cody spoke of, Mike Larimer. He was okay, but was playing outside with some other kids during the midday break. Heath opened the sack that Silas packed and took out a sandwich and a pear. As the other boy's shuffled in, he felt as if every set of eyes were bearing down on him. He felt the heat flush rise in his face and lowered his head. He'd heard the low whispers of '...Barkley bastard...some whelp...Nick don't even like him...' as he tried to find his appetite.

"Hey, are you guys entering the horse race at the fair next month?" Will asked his two mates as they filed past the dining hall, seeking to go outside.

"Yeah...ten dollars First Prize." Jack smacked his lips, "I can feel it now."

"Don't get too attached, Jack," Nick crowed, punching him playfully, "That prize money has my name on it."

"With that old nag of yours?" Will scoffed, "You'd need a head start."

The three boys paused, spotting Heath sitting forlornly at a long table. The untouched lunch sat in front of the solitary figure. They listened as several slurs were tossed his way. Cody looked at Nick's face carefully and couldn't decide what the dark scowl meant. Nick scowled so often, it was hard to know. The well built teen turned and went out the door.

"You guys coming or what?" Nick asked.

"Come on Cody," Jack pulled at the boy's blue shirt.

"You go ahead, I'm eating inside today."

"Suit yourself," Nick shot, angry that Cody was deserting him for the blond pest.

"Want some company?" Cody asked, watching Heath's eyes widen.

"Are you sure? Nick ain't gonna like it."

"So that's his problem," Cody said, sitting down and pulling out his lunch. "Where's your milk?""

"What milk?"

"See that table over there," Cody pointed to a long table with a gray haired woman behind it, "That's Miss Greene, she gives out the milk and cookies. Go on, I'll wait for you."

Heath waited until the group of boys in front of him finished and approached the table. The dour-faced woman poured him a cup of milk and handed him two cookies.

"Thank You," Heath said turning into a wall of cotton.

"Well if it ain't the little bastard. Don't mind if I do..." The brute said, reaching for Heath's milk.

"Get your own," Heath defied, not giving an inch.

"Listen, if you don't want to be a dead little bastard, you hand over the milk and cookies."

Heath tried to back away, but the brute's friends had formed a circle. Most of them looked Nick's size, except the large monster looming above him. He was a good head taller than Nick and stockier. One of the kids behind him grabbed his left hand, and forced it behind his back. He felt pressure on the soft side of his wrist and dropped the cookies. THe arm was twisted higher, causing him to wince.

"Give it over or you'll be in a sling for six weeks."

"Leave him alone, Aaron. Go find a dog your own size to kick around."

Heath sighed in relief as Cody's head appeared behind the bully.

"Stay out of this Wells." The bully turned shoving Cody.

"What's going on here?"

The boys stood silent shuffling their feet when one of the teachers came over.

"Come on, Kid," Cody said, taking a handful of cookies from the rack. "Let's finish lunch."

"What's with that kid Aaron?" Heath asked.

"Stay clear of him, Heath, he's trouble. He hustles money and anything else he can get out of smaller kids." Cody warned, "How's it going? How was class this morning?"

"Okay," Heath replied, "I like school. This afternoon I got science class. I never had science before."

"Science wasn't a favorite of mine." Cody admitted, chomping on his sandwich, "But Mr. Richardson is a good teacher. You'll like him."

Before Heath realized it, the hour was up. He and Cody talke about a lot of things, and he liked Nick's friend. He saw Nick and the other two boys waiting for Cody by the stairs.

"You want me to walk up with you?" Cody asked, worried about Aaron Carson showing up.

"Nah...that's okay," The smaller boy answered. "Thanks Cody."

"Anytime, Kid." Cody patted his shoulder and waited until the blond head disappeared down the hall.

"Did you remember to burp him?" Nick teased, as Cody approached.

"Somebody has to protect him from Aaron." Cody replied, glaring at Nick and glad that he saw a slight flicker of worry. "Him and that pack of wolves he runs with had Heath surrounded, with his arm twisted up his back. Not that you care." Cody ended, walking away.

Nick was trying to concentrate of the Roman Empire, but Cody's words kept slipping in his head. WHat if Aaron had hurt Heath? It wouldn't be his fault. He couldn't follow him everywhere. He didn't like Aaron and had been on the end of those beefy paws. Nick didn't back down from anyone and Aaron knew that and stayed clear of the hot-headed Barkley. Three o'clock came and Nick shoved his books in his bag and headed for his horse. He tied the bag to the saddlehorn and looked around for Heath. He watched as some of the other smaller boys came by, but didn't see the blond runt anywhere.

"You coming, Nick?" Jack asked. He and Will were already mounted and ready to go.

"No, you go ahead." Nick's voice dropped. A vision of Heath lying pummeled under the stairwell flew in his head. "Dammit..." He swore heading back to the school. He was just about to open the door, when Heath came out.

"Nick..." He startled, backing up. "Where ya going?"

"Looking for you!" Nick growled, shoving him forward, "You're late. Where were you? I can't be chasing after you."

"I forgot one of my books and had to go back to the third floor." Heath lied, hiding the tear in this shirt sleeve.

"Yeah, well, be more careful. Let's go." Nick grumbled, jumping on Coco.

Heath followed and glanced back at the school. His heart was still hammering. He could still feel Aaron's hot breath against his neck. His armed ached from where it had been unnaturally twisted upwards. The brute demanded a half-dollar a week or 'you'll be a bloody little bastard'. The group had cornered him in the stairwell. Two watched the doors above and below and the other three taunted the younger boy.

Nick looked back twice to make sure Heath was following. He was lagging way behind. "Hurry up, Runt." He hollered. Heath's pony broke into a faster trot and Nick eyed him as he drew closer. Something new was written on the blond's face. Something that surprised Nick. One thing he knew Heath wasn't was afraid. Yet there it sat, spelled out plainly.

"What's wrong?" Nick demanded, already hearing his father's wrath. God forbid one blond hair on the little prince's head was out of place.

"Nothin'" Heath rasped, "I's just tired."

Heath disappeared into his room and didn't reappear until Silas announced dinner. He'd laid on the bed and thought hard on his problem. He had to put is out of his head for now, before they noticed. He'd sewn the tear in the shirt. Thankful for the small sewing kit Rachel gave him before leaving Strawberry. He did pretty good, answering the questions about classes and teachers and other stuff. He glanced around the table and figured he'd fooled them good. Until Jarrod looked right through him.

"Heath, how about some chess after dinner. I have a board set up in my room." The older boy invited, intent on getting Heath alone.

"Maybe tomorrow night, Jarrod." Heath parried, "I'm awful tired and I got homework to do."

"Maybe I can help," Jarrod drilled, and Heath knew just what he meant.

"I don't think so, Jarrod, but thanks," He said too quietly, pushing away his half full plate. "May I be excused, please Ma'am?"

"Honey, you didn't eat anything." Victoria replied, "Silas made chocolate cake. If you finish your supper..."

"No, Thanks," Heath said, draining his milk, "So can I go?"

"Alright." She nodded, frowning as he left.

"Nick, what happened at school today?" Jarrod demanded.

"How should I know?" Nick shot back, then swiveled his head, seeing all eyes on him. "What?"

"Something's bothering him." Jarrod stated, "You didn't notice?"

"Cody said he had a run in with Aaron Carson at lunch, but he seemed fine after school."

"Cody?" Victoria asked, "Cody ate with Heath and you didn't"

"I never eat inside, you know that." Nick defended, tossing his napkin in anger. "What it is with him? He ain't a baby. You're all nursemaidin' him too much. He's a tough ru...kid. Heck, he had no trouble giving me a black eye. He's gotta learn to fit in."

"Nick, I dont' think..." Victoria started.

"No, Nick's right." Tom interceded. "I know I feel the urge to overprotect him. He's been without a father for so long , I guess I am guilty of 'nursemaidin' him too much'. Maybe he is just having growing pains. But Nick, Aaron Carson is bad news. Look what happened to Joey Burke last year."

"I wouldn't let anybody hurt him." Nick snapped, in such a wounded voice it surprised all of them, especially himself. Joey Burke was a ten year old who was beaten badly last spring. His parents didn't allow him back to the school. He never said Aaron did it, but the boy's in the school knew better. Dinner was finished quietly. Upstairs, Heath finished his homework and wondered how he was going to come up with a half-dollar by Monday.

"Aw, hell." Nick swore, stubbing his toe in the darkness. The pitch blackness in the room made it difficult to see. He stumbled through the room and made his way next door. The light from the hall invaded the room, spilling a amber glow on his brother's troubled body. Heath was twisting and turning, crying out in his sleep."

"You can't have it...it's mine...No! No!..."

"Wake up, Runt." Nick commanded shaking him.

"...scissors...No...You can't..."

"Hey, cut it out!" Nick growled, his face close to the twisting smaller boy.

Heath open his eyes and his breath came in fast pants. His face was soaked in sweat and his heart hammering. He didn't realize he wasn't alone until a hand gripped his arm hard.

"Listen to me," Nick threatened, but paused as Heath skittered away from him and cowered, covering his head. Nick's face screwed up in discomfort, as he realized Heath thought he was going to hit him. He stood uncertain of what to do, shifting uneasily on his injured toe.

"Uh...You okay, now?" He asked quietly, backing up, not wanting to spook the boy anymore.

"Huh?" Heath blinked and looked around.

"You can't be hollering like that," Nick said gruffly, "You'll wake the whole house up. What were you carrying on like that for?"

"I's havin' a bad dream...sorry." Heath mumbled, turning away, gripping the pillow.

"Yeah, well, try to keep it under control," Nick hissed, "I damn near busted my toe gettin' in here."

Heath turned and rolled to the end of the bed and looked down at Nick's foot. He looked up at his older brother and met the scowling face.

"I'm sorry, Nick." He apologized.

Nick winced at the pain in the large blue eyes and shifted uncomfortably again. "Yeah, well, it was an accident. You need water or anything?" He offered gruffly, feeling guilty.

"No" Heath shrank back and pulled the sheet up.

Nick hobbled to the door and was about to close it when he heard the small voice.

"Thanks, Nick...I'm real sorry."

"Stupid little runt," He mumbled, feeling guilty again. Eyeing the light in the hall, he left the door open and made his way back to his room.

Heath slipped into the kitchen by the back steps and eyed the stove. He lit the lamp on the table, which gave the room a soft glow. He saw the can of grits on the shelf and got it down. He padded into the pantry and found a good sized pot. He pumped water into the pot and added salt to it, then set it to boil. Standing in the early morning darkness, at the stove made him think of Hannah. He loved helping her and began to hum, as she did. He saw cornbread on the counter and carried it to the table. He picked up a plate and the ladle for the grits. He hadn't had grits since Hannah died, Aunt Rachel didn't make them. He thought of Hannah again and how she loved to sing.

"O, blow your trumpet, Gabriel, Blow your trumpet louder ; And I want dat trumpet to blow me home To my new Jerusalem. "De prettiest ting dat ever I done was to serve de Lord when I was young. So blow your trumpet, Gabriel..."

Heath sweet voice ceased when a deeper one joined his.

"Mister Heath," Silas called out, entering the kitchen from his bedroom behind it, "Whatcha doin? " He scolded , pulling the boy off the chair. "I thought I wuz dreamin' hearin' the angels singing."

"Hi, Silas," Heath greeted, "I ain't hardly no angel, Silas," Heath blushed, "Cookin' reminds me of Hannah, and she sure loved to sing. I's fixin' us some grits. Ain't had none since Hannah died."

"You sit yourself at the table," Silas scolded, taking the ladle and helping Heath down. "You shouldn't be fussin' with Old Silas's stove."

"No, you sit at the table," Heath's small body was determined and he pulled the surprised servant to the chair. "You been bustin' your back all week cookin'. I thought I'd make you breakfast. 'sides, it all done. See.." He pointed to the butter, orange juice and corn bread on the table, along with two plates.

"Landsakes...would ya look at that." Silas swallowed the lump in his throat. "You shouldn't be goin' to all this trouble for Old Silas."

"I thought we was friends," Heath frowned, casting his blue eyes upwards, "Ain't that what friends do?"

Silas wanted to say something but the words were stuck in his throat. He didn't know what powers brought this special boy to the Barkley home. He'd make sure he thanked God for this precious gift and ask for special grace to keep the boy safe. He ruffled the small blond head and smiled, sending crinkles around the dark eyes. He saw Heath squinting and staring up at him. The small boy cocked his head and nodded.

"You must be pretty smart," He guessed, "You sure do have a lot of wisdom lines"

"Say what?" Silas grinned

"Wisdom lines, like when you smiled just then," Heath advised, "Hannah says that the older you get, the more wisdom lines you get. You sure must be smart."

Silas furrowed his brows and leaned down, meeting the handsome little face, "You sayin' I'm old boy?"

"No, Sir," Heath stammered, "Well, I reckon I don't know. Gee, Silas I'm sorry..."

Silas laughed and wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulders. He hadn't felt so good in a long time. Yessir, this was one boy in a million. "That's okay, Son, I do got my share of wisdom lines. Now let's get to them grits, okay friend?" He held his hand out.

"Okay!" Heath nodded, shaking on it.

"I sure do miss Hannah," Heath sighed, slathering butter on his grits. "I used to make her breakfast on Saturday too. She didn't never holler, not even when I made a mess...which was a lot."

"She sounds like a fine woman," Silas observed, "Did she work for your Mama?"

"Mama was from Kentucky." Heath swallowed his cornbread and took a long drink of juice, "So was Aunt Rachel. Aunt Rachel found Hannah on the road one day, some bad man whipped her." Heath scowled, pounding his small fist on the table. "I sure wish Idda been there, I would bustin' him but good."

"I believe you could, Son." Silas nodded, patting the small hand in pride.

"Anyways, Aunt Rachel took Hannah home and fixed her up. They all came to California together." Heath sighed and dropped his head, "Sometimes, when at night when I can't sleep, I get a pain right here," He pointed to his chest, "when I think about Hannah and Mama." Heath got up to take his dishes to the sink.

Silas frown and felt moisure welling up in his eyes. He took his own dishes to the sink and placed both hands on the boy's shoulders. "I knows about that, Mister Heath," He said squeezing the small shoulders, "I miss my Mama too and sometimes I gets that pain. And you what...I gets to thinkin' happy thoughts and that chases that ole pain right off."

"Happy thoughts?" Heath asked, turning and looking up, blue eyes sad.

"You know, laughing and singing and hugging and kissing...happy thoughts."

Heath thought for a moment and nodded, "Reckon I'll try that," He hugged the startled older man, "Thanks Silas."

"No, Son," Silas said, his voice catching, "Thank You. Now you get on back to sleep. Sun won't be wakin' up for a long while yet."

"I gotta do the dishes," Heath protested, yawning, But Silas pushed the sleepy boy back to the stairs.

Silas cleaned up the dishes and started organizing for the day. He had an extra spring in his step and wore a broad smile.

"Yessir," He spoke aloud, making dough for the cinnamon rolls, "That sure is one fine little boy."

Nick eyed the sunshine outside and yawned, wishing he could go back to sleep. At least he'd gotten a little more rest, it being Saturday. He was about to hit the bathroom and backpeddled, peeking into Heath's room. Only the top of a blond head was visible. Nick shook his head and entered. Little runt was still hiding from whoever was chasin' him in his sleep. He was about to rouse him, but retracted his arm. He got washed, dressed and stumbled into the Dining Room. His mother and father were already there. Jarrod left on Thursday for college and Audra slept late on Saturday. Nick yawned and rested his head on his hands.

"Elbows off the table, Nick." Victoria said, "What happened to Good Morning Mother?"

"Good Morning, Mother." Nick yawned, rubbing his eyes.

"You'd better wake up Son," Tom advised, eyeing the sleepy teenager, "We've got a lot of work to do today. I've got a project for you and your brother to work on. Speaking of which, where is Heath?"

"I left him sleep." Nick mumbled, taking some pancakes. "He don't got the sense to rest even when he's asleep."

"What to you mean by that?" Victoria asked, picking at her grapefruit

"It's a wonder you ain't heard him."

"That I haven't heard him." She corrected.

"Right." Nick agreed, missing the grammar lesson, "It's only me he's been wakin' up every night, hollerin' like a fool."

"Bad dreams?" Tom frowned, swallowing a piece of ham.

"Yeah...some nonense about somebody takin' something from him and scissors." Nick slathered the hotcakes in butter and reached for the syrup. "Three nights in a row...and I got stubbed toes to prove it." He complained.

"The Padre said he was over all of that..." Tom sighed.

"Well, perhaps this encounter with Aaron Carson's been on his mind and that's causing the nightmares." Victoria assessed.

"That was barbaric enough when it happened," Tom thought aloud, "Now he's reliving it."

"It's not just a crazy dream?" Nick asked.

"No." Tom said curtly. "Nick, when you're finished with your breakfast, go with Duke out to the North Pasture. I'll bring Heath out to meet you."

"He ain't big enough for ropin' and brandin'" Nick argued, not wanting a shadow all day.

"No, he isn't. But I want him to watch you and the others. He needs to learn about the ranch. There's some painting and repais that needs to be done at the cabin by the lake. I thought I'd take you boys up there and we'd tackle it together, and stay overnight. A few weekends and we should have it done. We're down three men thanks to that Red Devil." He spoke of the horse. "I told Duke to cut him loose. I can't afford to lose anymore men."

"But Father, you can't..." Nick argued.

"I don't have a choice, Nick. Nobody breaks a horse better than Max," He referred to one of his top hands, "and thanks to that horse, He's got a busted collarbone. Tim and Randy were hurt trying to break him too. Looks like Heath was right."

Nick scowled and jabbed his pancakes, tired of hearing about the absent blond. He gulped his milk, grabbed a cinnamon roll and headed for the barn. Three whole weekends without going to the watering hole with the guys. He'd be stuck with the little runt night and day. He saddled Coco and set off to find Duke.