Heath couldn't decide which was worse, the ache in his back or the hunger pains in his stomach. It was nearly eleven at night and thankfully his task was nearly done. Nick had every right to be angry, and Heath didn't blame him. He just couldn't figure it out. He hadn't met anyone on the road and hadn't left the wagon alone. His thoughts were interrupted by the whinny of one of the team's horses. He turned and pulled his gun in the same instant.

"Do not shoot, Senor, it is me."

"Rico?" Heath asked, peering into the darkness.

"Si."

"What are you doing out here this late? You oughtta be sleeping in the bunkhouse."

"I'm sorry I'm so late. I had to wait until they all fell asleep," the boy said climbing down from his horse.

Heath climbed down as well and walked over to the clearing where Rico stood. Holding up the lantern, he saw the boy untie a burlap bag from the saddlehorn. He smiled at the shy grin the boy held as he turned.

"This time, Senor, it is I who brings you the food."

Heath watched as Rico sat down and unpacked bread, cheese, ham, fruit, a piece of cake, and a jug of cider. He carefully placed them, along with a napkin and utensils at Heath's feet. Looking up, he saw the surprise and then the warm smile, helping to pacify his troubled conscience. Rico had felt awful when the men came in and started talking about what happened.

"Rico, I don't know what to say," Heath murmured.

"Say you're hungry, Senor, and eat!" Rico encouraged.

"Reckon that's about as good advice as I ever got. Thanks kid."

He sat down and crossed his long legs, examining each item. Looking at the boy who still wore the shy grin, he thought maybe this was the best meal he ever received. He offered to share, but Cortez just shook his head. As he watched the grateful man eat, he couldn't get the warm look those blue eyes held for him off his mind. Something told him he could trust this man. He remembered his grandmother telling him her wisdom about people who had a 'good heart'. She had always said that if a man only had one true friend, someone with such goodness, they'd be richer than the wealthiest man in town. It was time he learned to trust this kind gringo.

"Senor Heath, can I talk to you? There is something I need to say...I...would you give me your word, you won't tell?"

"Depends on what it is you got to say, Rico. But I promise you, I'll stand by you, no matter what. Whatever it is that's been eatin' away at you, Kid, can't be as bad as you think. "

"After my grandmother died, things went well for awhile. Then my mother got sick...so very sick. I tried to get work, but we come from such a poor village, I had to sell everything we had to get money for medicine and food for her. I found a cave in the hills and we stayed there. I felt so bad...I tried to help her, but failed."

Heath felt the familiar pain in his stomach as he looked at the boy's fine features, full of anguish, as the lamplight flickered upon him. He knew all too well what that felt like. To have no one, and feel helpless, watching someone you love slip away.

"I couldn't leave her for very long, we had no family, and the town was so very poor. Many were sick and dying. I would find food, and bring it to her. She'd eat a little. Despite how bad I felt, she always said how much she loved me, her brown eye were so beautiful. I woke one morning a couple months ago and she had a bad fever. I went to the doctor and begged him to come and help her, but he laughed at me and threw me out of his grand hacienda. I was mad...so very mad. I waited until dark and went back inside. I got medicine, food and a blanket for her. I would have gotten away if not for falling in the dark, and breaking a vase. I tried to run but he grabbed me. We fought, and he fell, hitting his head."

Rico closed his eyes, remembering how terrified he was at that moment.

"There was so much blood, Senor, and he was so still. He wife stood there, screaming at me. I ran. I ran as fast as I could. When I got back to the cave, she was looking at me. I felt her head, and at first I thought her fever had broken, then ... then...the eyes had no more light. She was gone. I had left her and she died alone. I failed ..."

His voice broke and he held his knees and rocked, sobbing tears two months coming. Heath felt the pain rise within him and swallowed it. He moved over and put an arm around the quaking shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Rico. I really am. I know how you feel. Me and my Mama were alone against the world, too. I worked from the time I was six or seven doin' anythin' for pennies, but it was never enough. When you're poor, it never is. When she died...," he stopped his own eyes burning, "a part of me died, too. So you go ahead and cry, Kid, get it all out. Then you hold you head up high. You're a fine man and she couldn't have a better son."

Something about the gentle tone of his words hit Rico's heart. McCall and Heath were the only gringos he'd ever met that he could trust. Nick scared him, although Rico knew he was fair, but something about Heath was different. He had the same pain inside. The scar of having no father and of seeing a mother suffer. He wiped his nose and rubbed his eyes and looked over at his friend.

"It ain't easy being a boy in a man's world, is it, Kid?" Heath said with a squeeze to the thin shoulders.

"No, Senor, it isn't. I didn't mean to get so ...well you know what I mean."

"Sure do. I cried too, not when she was buried, but later on a trail, alone in the dark. It just came over me. The finality of it all...knowin' I'd never see her again or hear her voice. It feels a whole lot better now, don't it?" Heath's voice trailed off.

"Si, Senor, it felt before like a ....rock was on my chest. Now, it's not as bad. I never had a brother, Senor, but if I did, I wish he would be like you," Rico said shyly without looking up.

Heath laughed and ruffled the dark hair. He liked this boy and felt he'd somehow helped him a step further on the road to manhood.

"You and me, Kid, we'll look out for each other, okay?"

"Okay."

"Listen, Rico, about that doctor fella. You don't know that he was dead. I've seen enough head wounds to tell you that sometimes they bleed like a stuck pig. He's probably overcharging some wealthy widow now. As far as the other charges, I'd bet my brother could help you there. From what I hear, he's a good lawyer. If it comes to that, I'll stay with you all the way. I'll protect you."

Rico packed the dishes up as Heath's words eased into the night. He didn't want his gringo friend to see him cry again. Nobody had ever stuck up for him before. It felt good.

"Where'd you get all this grub anyhow?" Heath quizzed.

"I waited until they all were sleeping. I thought I was careful, just grabbing the rolls and cheese," he recalled smiling. "Then Senor McCall...he followed me outside and told me if I was going to do a job, to do it right, and gave me the rest. He's a good man, I like him."

"They don't come any better, Kid. I like him too."

"Come on, Senor. If you show me what to do I'll help and we can both get home."

"Okay, Kid, let's go," Heath said hauling the boy to his feet and clapping him on the back.

It was half past ten when Heath pulled his weary body through the foyer. He was about to attempt the task of dragging his aching limbs up all those stairs to bed, when he turned. Making his way into the library, he poured himself a shot of the whiskey he craved. Tilting his head back, he downed the amber beverage in one big gulp. He heard the front door slam and footsteps making their way down the hall and into the library. He didn't need to turn around. The jingle of spurs and low growl had already told him who the mystery person was.

"Didn't you get enough of that this morning when you held a dozen men up from an important job? Today was bad enough, but Barrett says you didn't even hold up your end during the fencin' project!"

Nick's voice was gruff and his facial features hardened as he made the accusation.

"Barrett's words are about as true as Works denyin' Andersonville! You want the truth? I'll get the truth outta that fork-tongued loser," Heath snarled, attempting to sidestep the tempest which stood before him.

"Now, you just hold it right there, Boy! I don't need you goin' in and stirrin' up trouble with the men. I've got enough of that already!"

Heath felt the firm grip on his arm and the demeaning tone stuck him like a dagger. Throwing off the arm, he turned to confront his brother.

"And what gives you the right tellin' me what to do?" he challenged. "You ain't my boss!"

"Yeah? Well, I run the place, don't I?"

Heath's eyes burned a hole right through the vested chest of the arrogant, dark cowboy. So that's how this popinjay had interpreted the first night's meeting. It would be Nick giving the orders, while Heath would be expected to lick his boots like a grateful lapdog. He thought on the words that Mrs. Barkley had said when she had corralled Nick by the fire. She had emphasized the fact that 'both' of Tom's sons would run the ranch. The embers in her eyes and the firm tone in her voice had convinced Heath that she meant what she said, but apparently Nick still didn't see it that way. Well, he'd straighten that out right now.

"So all that talk about me bein' an equal part in this was for nothin'? Your mother gave her word..."

"Her word, not mine," Nick lashed back. "Talk is all it was. This is MY ranch! You haven't earned the right to run it yet!"

Nick's face was no-nonsense and cocky as his gloved thumb emphasized the 'my'. Heath didn't wait for a further explanation. Nick's body language had just said it all. It was quite clear to him that no matter how hard he tried, he would never be a Barkley.

"And what's that supposed to mean? That you still don't believe that I am who I say I am? You think that I'm just some goldseeker who made everythin' up to try and get into your old man's fortune? You've fought me head-on from day one and now you're more than willin' to believe any lies that some of those blowhards out in the bunkhouse have to say about me. Well, it ain't my fault that the 'old stud' wasn't content eatin' the grass in his own pasture!" Heath emphasized, throwing a harsh hand gesture in the direction of the patriarch's portrait. "You think it was easy growin' up the town bastard and havin' that label follow me around my whole life? You think I enjoy havin' to fight my way into my own family?"

"Your mother may have lured some sorry sailor who had the misfortune of whelpin' you, but you'll never convince me that it was MY father!" Nick shot, his eyes blazing with the rage he felt inside.

"You take that back!" Heath ordered, standing face to face with his older brother. "You take that back, now!"

"Not a chance!"

It didn't take long for the fight to begin. A light, but disrespectful shove from Nick, and Heath lost his head. Plowing into his brother, he threw him hard onto the sofa and started a fast volley of punches. Nick was soon on his feet, backhanding the younger hard across his bronzed cheek.

"Mr. Nick! Mr. Heath! What's going on in here?"

The two stallions ignored the desperate pleas from the lone, black servant as each pursued to stand his ground. Insults were hurtled and fists flew as the struggling brothers grappled and swung.

"Nick! Heath! Stop it!"

Audra's cries seemed frantic as she burst into the room of her battling brothers. Finally, Nick gained the upper ground and sent Heath sailing across the room only to crash into a large, imported vase. Lying stunned amongst the broken pieces, Heath tried to gain his composure while Nick stood over him, red-faced and hostile.

"Now that we've got this little matter settled," he huffed, "I'll be expectin' you to be puttin' in your full day's work! Got it?"

Using his gloved hand to wipe the blood from his lip, he turned and retreated out of the room.

"Heath! Are you okay?" Audra cried, running to aid her fallen brother.

"I'm fine!" he snapped, shaking off her arm and standing with his own strength. "Just leave me alone! I've had it with all of you!"

Through tearful eyes she watched as he stormed out of the library, taking the steps to his room two at a time. Emerging from her own room, where she had been reading, Victoria was roused by the loud bang of Heath's bedroom door. Listening outside, she heard drawers slamming and belongings being slung around. He was packing. How she'd manage to stop him on her own, she didn't know, but anything was worth a try. Tapping lightly, she received no answer. Carefully, she turned the handle and gently opened the door. He glared at her and continued rounding up his things. She wasn't gonna stop him this time. No sir. He'd had enough of Nick Barkley and that poor excuse for a work crew. Securing his bedroll, he walked over to the window and pounded the sill with both fists.

"Go ahead, break it, if you think it will help," she said calmly.

"I've had it with him and his mouth. Barking all the time, expecting me to jump like a trained animal," he seethed as he turned and approached her.

She backed up slightly. His words and stance left her more than a little uneasy. She didn't doubt for a minute he was a Barkley. He was Tom's, all right, this youngest son who had the same passionate blue-eyed gaze that could run a gamut of emotions. Then there was the stubborn steak and that set jaw. Composing herself, she stepped forward and gripped the tense arms, looking right into those furious eyes, so much like his father's.

"Running away won't solve a thing and deep down you know that, Heath. You can't hide from your destiny. Your place is here with your brother, running your father's ranch. He built this empire," she paused, turning the workman's hands over, running her soft fingers over the rough skin, "with hands like these. He shed every ounce of sweat and blood he had into this land, and he died for it. You fought to get in here and I'm not going to let you leave. You're no quitter! Anyone with eyes can see that."

"With all due respect, Ma'am, you're barking up the wrong tree. Your son is the one who needs the speech," he snapped, throwing her hands off.

"He's got my father's temper and shortsightedness, but he's got Tom's fire and passion. Most people don't understand Nick, and I know he's hurting. His image of his father has been tarnished, and that doesn't set well with him. It will take some time, but..."

She walked in front of him and turned his chin to face her. Such a handsome boy, fine features and so much more inside. The defiant stare didn't fool her. It masked the turmoil within...years of hurt and deep seated pain. She saw a little boy, towheaded and angry, fists clenched, fighting the world alone. A wild child with no father's firm hand to guide or teach him. She wanted to get to know this love child of Tom's and to think of him as one of her own.

"Heath, you have so much to offer to me, your brothers and sister, but more importantly, to yourself. This is your heritage, and will some day belong to your sons and your sons' sons. Your mother raised a fine man, full of pride and integrity. This new name only adds to that. I'll talk to Nick. Your place is here with your family. It's an adjustment for all of us and it will be hard...nothing worthwhile comes easy. For without family you have nothing, Heath, nothing at all. Is that really what you want? To be alone in this world?"

His silence was a ray of hope to her. She peered deeply into those light blue eyes and saw a glimmer. Nodding her head, she patted his arm and left. He peered out into the darkness and wondered how the tiny, formidable woman who'd known him only a few weeks, could read him so well. He sat on the bed and drew his legs up, leaning against the headboard. He eyed the bedroll and thought on what to do. He did want a family, a home and a heritage...but at what price? What if Nick never accepted him?

"Do I make myself clear, Nicholas?"

Nick nodded, knowing the use of his full name measured out exactly how angry his mother was. He didn't understand how she could welcome a stranger as part of the family or accept the fact that her husband, his father, could be dishonest. He stared at the portrait which hung above the fireplace and deep into his father's eyes. "What do I do, Sir?" he asked silently. He was too tired to fight her and knew if Jarrod caught wind of things, he'd have to fight him, too. Sighing, he resigned himself to the fact that the boy was here to stay. He would work with him, try to contain his animosity, but he'd never accept him as a brother. There was just no way.

"Okay, Mother, I'll give it another try. I'll be...I'll give him a break. But I won't put up with him causin' trouble among the men."

"Then you talk to the men and make them understand. You have no proof Heath drank. Anyone could have planted that bottle, Nick, and you know it. What did he say was the reason he was delayed so long?"

"He didn't."

"What do you mean by that? He must have given some explanation."

Nick's face gave himself away.

"You never gave him a chance to explain, did you Nick?"

"All right, maybe I got a little carried away. I'll make it right by him."

Victoria kissed her dark-haired son on the cheek and made her way up the grand staircase. It had been close to an hour since her discussion with Heath. She walked towards his room and stopped to peer in through the open door. He was sound asleep on top of the bedspread. Smiling, she closed the door of his room and continued down the hall, stopping in front of her own room. When she turned out her lamp that night and closed her eyes, she sent a thought of her own up to Tom, and a prayer to her God.

"Please watch over Heath," she prayed. "Help him meld into a permanent member of this family."

Heath finished brushing the high-spirited horse and hoped the workout would help them both. He already knew that Nick had told the rest of the family about what had happened yesterday with the pumps. Jarrod had been more than fair, bending over backwards to accommodate him this morning. He'd stopped by Heath's room on his way to breakfast, and asked Heath if he remembered anything more. As hard as he tried, Heath was still blank. He hesitated telling Jarrod about Barrett and Sinclair specifically, but Jarrod read his pause and suggested a setup. He looked into his oldest brother's piercing blue eyes and saw nothing but understanding and hope. Jarrod had been gracious, telling Heath that there would be no more mention of the incident.

It was a glorious Saturday morning and Audra finished dressing and watched from her window as Nick strode across the yard towards Duke McCall. As she turned, a familiar voice came up from below. Whirling, she peeked carefully out the window and felt her face flush. Elliott Carrington rode up on his horse and spoke with Nick.

Audra wondered how it would feel to be wrapped in those strong arms. Her heart sped up as she thought of that handsome face and his dazzling smile. She let her mind wander to a secluded spot on the North ridge, in the moonlight. His arms around her, his lips ....

"Audra, are you coming with me to Mrs. Green's?" Victoria asked as she watched her starstruck daughter from the hallway. She smiled at the dazed look on her only daughter's face. Audra finally looked up and moved towards her. She seemed to be floating.

"Oh Mother," she exalted. "Isn't he the most handsome man you've ever seen?"

Victoria took her daughter's hand and smiled. How many times had they been down this road before? Maybe she needed something to cool her down.

"Audra, I think Heath might be going out for a ride. He's in the barn...unless you want to go to Mrs. Green's with me?"

"Huh? Oh, no...I'll get my boots on and go with Heath."

Victoria walked over to her surrey by the front door as Elliott rode by.

"Hello again, Mrs. Barkley!" Elliott greeted.

"Elliott," Victoria nodded.

"I was wondering if it would be all right if I called on Audra. I'd like to take her out to dinner one night to the Alhambra Club...with your permission, of course."

"It's fine with me, Elliott. Audra is inside, if you'd like to speak with her. I'm sure you'll have Audra back before ten?"

"Yes ma'am. I'll come calling at six on Tuesday, if that's all right?"

"That would be fine, Eliott."

"See you later, Ma'am," he charmed as she climbed into the surrey.

Elliott went inside just as Audra trotted down the stairs. The riding pants clung to every curve and the blouse dipped just right. He felt the heat rise in him and would be counting the hours until Tuesday.

"Elliott, I didn't know you were here," she smiled coyly, showing the even, white teeth.

"I stopped to see Nick, but he was leaving. I did speak with your Mother, and if you're free on Tuesday, I'd like to take you to supper at the club."

She thought for sure he knew her heart was pounding so hard it was about to burst through her chest. She felt her face flush and walked towards him.

"I'd be delighted, Elliott. I'll be looking forward to it," she managed, not allowing her voice to reflect the excitement she was feeling.

"Great, I'll pick you up around six o'clock, Tuesday evening." He lifted her hand and kissed it, lingering a few seconds and smiling to himself at her shudder.

"I'm...I have to go now," she stammered, pulling her hand away, embarrassed by the high color she knew was showing.

"Have a great ride! You look beautiful!" he oozed.

"Thank you," she said as he left.

She fell against the back of the door and took several deep breaths. All the way out to the barn she was figuring on the perfect dress to wear. She seemed to float through the door and smiled as her fair-haired brother called to her.

"Hey, Sis! Wanna go for a ride?" Heath offered, using his knee to nudge Buster's belly as he tightened down on the cinch.

"Sure!" Audra accepted, excitedly. "Where are we going?"

"Oh, I don't know. Guess I just felt like gettin' out for a tour around the ranch. There are still some areas I ain't too familiar with yet."

"Sounds like maybe you could use someone to show you the boundaries," Audra suggested. "I'll hurry and get Mischief curried and saddled."

"I'll grab your gear, Sis," Heath volunteered. "Now you just quit!" he added, scolding Buster and slapping his nose with the end of the rope. "I've had just about all the nonsense I'm gonna take outta you!"

"What's he doing now?" Audra asked, quite amused over the budding relationship between her brother and his horse.

"Oh, he's taken to foot stompin'," Heath grumbled. "And by the way he plants his hoof smack-dab in the center of my boot, I know it ain't no accident."

"Has he got you yet?" Audra giggled.

"No, but he's been tryin' real hard. It's a bad habit and one that I plan to break," Heath complained as he swung Audra's saddle over Mischief's freshly combed back. "There you go, Girl," he soothed to the little mare. "And just don't you go takin' any lessons from Buster, here, Heath added, still addressing the horse. "One outlaw in the family's enough!"

Audra smiled, never being able to get enough of her brother and the special way he related to animals. Carefully placing her left foot in the stirrup, she swung her right leg up and over the saddle, while Heath mounted from the ground, using a single leap. Together they galloped out of the barnyard, headed for parts unknown.

"That line of trees over there separates the southern boundary," Audra pointed out. "Beyond that lies the Marvin place. The Marvin's have been neighbors for as long as I can remember. Will Marvin and I grew up together."

"And how 'bout that road leading to the East...where does that go?"

"Oh, that winds up and around the property. There are several good watering holes along the way. If you follow the road long enough, you'll eventually run into the Miles' spread. Their son, Evan, is also a childhood friend, but he's away at college now."

"I never even imagined this place bein' so big," Heath commented. "Your...I mean, 'our' father, must've been quite the wheeler and dealer."

"Yes, he was an entrepreneur, all right. Come on, let's ride to the top of that bluff."

Climbing up a rocky incline, the two riders stopped momentarily, allowing the horses to take a breather. Scattered groups of cattle decorated the landscape, grazing the surrounding hillsides. From over a distant hill, a brown speck came into view, soon developing into an exceptionally elegant piece of horseflesh.

"That horse wild?" Heath asked, nodding in the direction of the bay.

"Yes," Audra answered, "There are quite a few roaming these hills. I'm not sure exactly where that one came from, but he seems to be the leader of one of the herds. Look! There are the others down in that canyon!"

"You know," Heath mused, fingering the rope that looped his saddlehorn. "I wouldn't mind ownin' a horse like that. I think I'll ride down to the bottom and give it a shot."

"Heath, are you sure? When Nick goes after wild horses, he usually has several men along to help."

"Well, I ain't Nick," Heath maintained. "He does things his way, and I do things mine. Now, I want you to wait right here for me, you hear?"

"Gotchya, Big Brother!" Audra smiled. "But promise me you'll be careful."

"What I'll promise you is that when I return I'll be leadin' that there stallion," Heath grinned. "Be back soon!"

The bay stallion was magnificent as he loped freely down the rocky canyon. His mares were in the ravine at the bottom, waiting. Now was his chance...his moment had come. Skirting around from the side, Heath jumped off Buster, pausing only to grab his rope off the saddle horn. Stealthily picking his way through the rock and shale, Heath positioned himself, lasso in hand. With a mighty toss, the high flying loop smoothly settled on it's target. Bracing his feet against the sloping ground, Heath clung to the taut rope like there was no tomorrow.

Easing himself over to a sturdy tree, he managed to cinch the end several times around the solid trunk. The horse fought and reared, but Heath firmly pulled him in, using his voice to calm the frightened animal. The rest of the herd had long since vanished, leaving the stallion alone to face his captor. Working his way up the lead, Heath was finally close enough that he could reach out and touch the lathered coat. Sensing that this man posed no threat, the once domestic animal relaxed, associating a human voice with food and shelter.

Now realizing that this horse had more than likely been bred and raised in captivity, Heath led him back to where Buster was staked. He mounted and dallied the stallion's rope around the saddle horn. The bay trotted along like he was born to lead. At the top of the summit, Audra was waiting. She beamed with pride as her brother approached with evidence of a successful mission.

"Won't Nick be surprised," she chattered enthusiastically. "I know for a fact that he's had his eye on this horse for a long time now!"

At those words, Heath felt something spark inside of him. He now had something Nick wanted and had accomplished a feat that the dark cowboy had yet to conquer. It all was playing out so perfectly. If they hurried, Heath would have the stallion corralled where Nick was sure to see him when he returned from town that evening. He gave Buster a little nudge and called back to Audra.

"Let's step it up a little, Sis. I wanna get this stallion settled in while there's still plenty of daylight."

When Nick rode up to the barn late that evening, he halted suddenly, as his head swiveled in the direction of the corrals. Prancing the arena, proud and graceful, was the bay stallion that he had set his hopes on catching. A sullen scowl spread across the cowboy's face. How did the horse get here and who had caught him were the questions he wanted answered. Hastily he stabled Coco and made his way to the house. Opening the front door, he stood and listened to the voices coming from the library. Audra's embellished, nonstop chatter gave him the answers that he sought.

"Oh, Mother and Jarrod," she bragged. "I only wish you could've seen Heath in action! It was absolutely amazing! I've never seen anyone that can handle a horse the way he can!"

"So we have an expert horseman in the family," Jarrod remarked, glancing at the blushing Heath. "That definitely has it's merits!"

"Heath!" Audra exclaimed, sidling up to her brother and latching on to his arm. "I want you to be sure to come and get me before you put the saddle on him tomorrow! I wouldn't miss watching you break him for the world! Do you promise?"

"Okay," Heath agreed. "I promise to come get you. But I reckon first I'd better find out what Nick's got planned for the day. He might have me out on some project."

Beaming from ear to ear, Audra led Heath over to the settee, and taking his hand, sat him down beside her. Standing in the doorway unnoticed, Nick felt his blood begin to boil. He had always been the chivalrous brother that his little sister adored. Now, here was this impostor moving in on his territory. Stalking back out, he stood for a few minutes watching the stallion from the front porch. Furious, he stormed back into the house to confront the 'squatter' who had now staked his claim.

"So you couldn't find anything better to do today?" Nick railed. "I've always been the one in charge of roundin' up the horses on this ranch. Next time you feel the need to play wrangler, you come to me first!"

Heath's smirk was inward as he remained calm and settled, enjoying every word spewn from his hotheaded brother. He couldn't help but notice that Nick seemed to be waving a baited hook in front of him. Being careful not to nibble on the bait, Heath feasted on the tyrant's fuming frustration. He had finally figured out Nick's Achilles heel. The less he reacted, the hotter Nick got. Boy howdy! What a day it'd been!

It was Sunday afternoon. Victoria and Jarrod had dropped Audra off at the house before leaving again to attend a reception for one of Jarrod's colleagues. Nick had made plans to escort the lovely Madeline Prentis on a picnic down by the river. All the ranch hands, except for Rico, had gone into town for some Sunday afternoon poker. Audra was changing from her Sunday dress into some riding clothes, after which she hoped to talk Heath into going for another ride. A loud knock at the door of her room realtered her plans for the day.

"Who is it?" she called.

"It's Silas, Miz Audra. Mr. Heath tol' me to tell you that it's time for him to break that new stallion of his. He says for you to meet him out at the corrals."

"Thanks, Silas! I'll be right down!"

Audra finished buttoning up her blouse and slipped into a pair of black, shiny boots. Hurriedly, she ran her pine bristled brush through her thick, golden hair and burst through the door of her bedroom, practically flying down the main stairs of the house. When she arrived at the corrals, Heath and Rico already had the bay stallion saddled and ready to go. Climbing up on the fence next to Heath, Audra found her perch.

"Better stay back on the other side of the fence," Heath warned. "This horse don't seem too terribly wild, but you never know what he might do."

Audra jumped back down and stood to face Heath through the fence, her arms resting on the top rail. Heath patted the stallion's neck and prepared to mount, while Rico held tightly onto the headstall. Carefully easing himself up into the saddle, Heath positioned himself squarely in the seat. With his spurs down and a firm grip on the slackened reigns, Heath gave Rico the go ahead.

"Okay, let 'im go!" he nodded.

The young Mexican boy let loose of the horse and scrambled up the side of the fence as Heath dug his spurs into the stallion's side. Leaping forward and coming down hard on his front feet, the hind legs kicked out in an effort to relieve himself of the cumbersome load. Heath hung on, spurring and keeping perfect rhythm with each jump and spin as the stallion took him for the ride of his life.

"He makes it look so easy!" Audra exclaimed as she and Rico watched the show.

"Si, Senorita," the boy responded bashfully. He was still young and not accustomed to speaking with well-bred ladies such as this.

"Hang on to him, Heath!" Audra rooted from the sidelines.

Heath was riding hard and both horse and rider seemed to be tiring. Wanting to slow down the action, Heath pulled the bay's head around, spinning him in a circular direction. The bucking ceased momentarily, but then started up again when the stallion was given his head. Heath spun him around a few more times, and this time the tossing subsided into a light crow-hop. Heath nudged him with the spurs, urging him forward. Galloping the perimeter of the arena, Heath pulled hard on the reins, causing the horse to come to a jolting stop. Giving him a moment to catch his wind, the cowboy spurred him into a light canter, using the reins to keep the horse's speed in check. His gait seemed choppy, but time and experience would remedy that. Trotting the stallion over to Audra, Heath wore a grin that wouldn't quit.

"I told you this horse didn't have a wild bone in 'im! That was about the easiest time I've ever had breakin' a horse! Didn't even get throwed."

"You were just wonderful!" Audra gushed. "I only wish that Nick had been here to see you!"

"Nick!" Heath laughed scornfully. "I'm sure he's got plenty of other things to do with his spare time besides watchin' me break a horse that he was wantin' for his own."

"Oh, I'm sure he doesn't hold that against you," Audra tried to convince. "Besides, there are plenty of other horses around here he can pick from."

"Yeah, he can, but that ain't the point. Goin' after a stallion like this...well, catchin' 'im is half the thrill."

"I think I know what you mean," Audra agreed. "By the way, now that you have him and he's yours, what are you going to name him?"

"To tell you the truth I haven't had the time to give it too much thought," Heath drawled. "I reckon you're right, though. We do need to give this here boy a name."

"We?" Audra asked.

"Well, you helped me find him, didn't you?"

"Yes, I guess I did. But you were the one who did all the work...waiting there at the bottom of the canyon while he charged on down the hillside. You could've had a real fight on your hands!"

"In that case," Heath mused with a thoughtful look on his face, "what do ya say we call him 'Charger'?"

"Charger! That's a wonderful name!"

"Well, then. Charger it is!"

"Heath," Audra ventured. "Where did you learn how to break horses like that? You seem to do it with such ease. Even Nick usually hits the ground several times before he gets one gentled down."

"Oh, I've done quite a bit of ranch work here and there," Heath minimized. "That, and the fact that I love what I do."

"Maybe you could teach me to break horses like that sometime, eh, Senor?" Rico chimed from the sidelines.

"Perhaps one of these days after we get through with roundup," Heath answered. "I don't reckon Nick would like it, you gettin' all busted up right before one of the busiest times."

"Come on, Audra," Heath invited, as he loosened Charger's cinch. "I'm gonna brush him down and try to get him used to me handlin' his feet. You wanna help?"

"Sure! I can hold onto him while you work."

"You comin', Rico?"

"No, Senor. I think I will go find a shady tree and take a little siesta. I want to be well rested for roundup tomorrow."

"We'll catch you later then. Come on, Audra, let's go!"

Dinner that night would have been fairly uneventful if it hadn't been for Audra's constant, nonstop chatter about Heath and the remarkable job he had done breaking Charger. Not used to being the center of attention, Heath ate most of his dinner in silence with only an occasional affirmation or nod when a question was directed at him. Though Victoria immensely enjoyed hearing of Heath's excellent horsemanship skills, she couldn't help but notice his discomfort nor the deep-seated fury that seemed to be percolating in Tom's middle son. Glancing at Nick from time to time, she noticed that he ate his meal in sullen silence, rarely looking up or adding to the conversation. From years of motherly experience, Victoria was able to read him like a book. She was almost certain that his eyes had turned to a brilliant shade of green. Jarrod, too, sensed the uneasiness and tried to help lighten the direction of things.

"So, Nick," he ventured, "you and the boys will be startin' roundup tomorrow, won't you?"

Midsummer roundup was a time when the ranch's spring calves would be tallied, branded and castrated. On a ranch the magnitude of this one, it was a full-blown job. Groups of cattle were scattered in all directions, covering miles and miles of open range. The men and supplies would have to be moved periodically, keeping in close proximity of the different herds. Keeping track of so many cattle, was no small feat.

"Yeah, I've got the men all lined out and the chuck wagon's ready to go. We'll probably be campin' out most nights...save a lot of time that way. I'll try and get back at least once, just to check in."

"It will seem quiet around here with both you and Heath gone," Victoria lamented.

"Yeah," Nick replied bitterly, glancing distastefully at his younger brother.

"Well, if you'll excuse me," Heath cut in, "I best go get my gear packed!"

"I'll walk you up," Audra chirped. "Mother, may I be excused, too?"

"Yes, you may, Dear," Victoria consented. "But don't go getting in Heath's way. I'm sure he has a lot to do before tomorrow morning."

"I won't," Audra promised. "I was just planning on going up to read, anyway."

"I never got no escort," Nick grumbled as the two disappeared from the dining area.

"Brother Nick!" Jarrod exclaimed jovially. "I do believe you're jealous!"

"Me, jealous? And of 'that'?" Nick scoffed, gesturing in the direction of the retreating Heath. "If that's supposed to be some sort've 'conclusion', Jarrod, save it for the witness stand. Your theories and speculations have no business here in this house!" Nick ranted, throwing down his napkin. "If I want cheap advice, I'll pay for it! Now, if you'll excuse me, Mother, I've got a lot of work to do!"

"Go ahead, Nick," Victoria called to his back. "Really, Jarrod. Do you think it's wise to goad your brother with the tension level around here already being stretched to the extreme?"

"I didn't mean to goad him, Mother. I was merely making an observation, and a very accurate one at that. If there hadn't been so much truth to my remark, I sincerely doubt Nick would've reacted the way he did. You know, it just might give him some food for thought."

"I think it was more like trying to use kerosene to put out a fire. Did you honestly think that that would help the situation, Jarrod?"

"Oh, you're probably right, Mother, but one of these days Nick will learn to use that hard head of his for something other than a battering ram. If he would only realize that he could accomplish so much more by working 'with' people, rather than against them."

"He'll come around," Victoria stated. "Out of all my children, he was always the slowest learner in that regard, but sooner or later he'll come around."

"Let's just hope it's sooner," Jarrod added. "Before he makes a regrettable mistake."

It was the perfect spot for a hideout. All but forgotten, it was large enough and clean. Wolf finished the last of his dinner and looked up as the door opened. The new arrivals took a seat across the room and he stomped his feet, indicating to the others that the meeting was about to commence. He turned as their leader poured himself a generous shot of whiskey. Rising, he waiting until they were all present. He raised the glass and proposed a toast.

"One down, two to go."

"What's the plan , Boss?" Jones inquired, knawing on a chicken leg.

"I'll be meeting our buyer tomorrow. Mr. Gibbons, what is our time frame?"

Bart Gibbons had worked on the Union Pacific for over twenty years. He liked his job, but the last two years, he'd made a small fortune, with this 'side job'. He handed the tickets and time table to his benefactor.

"You get on in Stockton by nine a.m. We stop here," he pointed to a water stop about twenty miles away, "first. The side door to the second to last storage car will be open. You'll have ten minutes...no more...to get the merchandise on board."

"Wolf, while their seeing to that, I have another job for you to set up," the leader said, handing his evil right-hand man several documents.

"You got it, Boss," he said flipping through the maps and papers.

"These are your ticket stubs for the merchandise. Did you use the containers I left?"

"They were perfect, " the smug leader replied of the heavy, bookstore marked crates. "They're all loaded on the wagon"

"Good, they'll be unloaded with the rest. I've confirmed that your party will meet you at one p.m. inside the station. You give him the stubs and he'll give you the money. Same as before."

"Okay, men, we'll meet at the end of the week to discuss phase two." He walked over to where the two recent arrivals sat. "You two know what to do, right?"

"Yes, Sir. We'll make that bastard sorry he ever rode into town."

"Hurry up..let's get a move on it...and no lolly-gaggin'!" Nick ordered as the men set up their temporary camp for summer roundup.

The chuck wagon was positioned, braced and unhitched, and some tether lines strung between two trees. The bedrolls and saddlebags were removed from the horses and tossed in a community pile. As the men regrouped and duties were assigned, Heath noticed two stragglers hanging back on the sidelines. The two were talking between themselves and making no attempt to join in and sign the duty roster. Spurring Buster over, he voiced his disapproval.

"Barrett! Sinclair! The men are waitin'. Come on, let's hustle!"

"You want somethin', Boy," Sinclair drawled, strategically placing a pinch of chew inside his lower lip, "you send the 'boss man' over. We take our orders from him, not from the likes of you."

"Now, I ain't gonna tell you again," Heath threatened, stepping down from the saddle. "You get movin' or get walkin'. Take your pick."

"I'll move when I'm good and ready," Sinclair challenged.

"Guess I didn't make myself clear," Heath retorted, placing a firm hand on the ranch hand's vest, "so I'll tell you again. Move it, NOW!"

All it took was that slight bit of physical contact, causing Sinclair to take the first swing. Being an expert at interpreting facial expressions and eye signals, Heath saw the punch coming and ducked just in time. Sidestepping out of the way, he coupled both hands and whacked Sinclair, who was now off balance, hard between the shoulder blades. The pock-marked cowboy came down hard, swallowing his wad of chew in one unplanned gulp. Heath kicked him hard, knocking the wind out of him and almost bringing the wad back up.

"You'll pay for this, Bastard!" the angry man seethed as Barrett stepped in to back him up.

"Hold it right there, Barrett," McCall ordered, grabbing Barrett at the elbow. "You too, Sinclair. What's this all about?"

"He jumped us," Barrett accused, pointing a condemning finger at Heath.

"I heard what happened," McCall rebutted. "Now, I want the two of you to get mounted and take the flats! You hear me?"

"Yeah, we hear ya," Sinclair muttered as Barrett helped haul him up from the dusty ground.

Heath looked at McCall, expressionless, and rejoined the group with Buster in tow. The men were just breaking up and Nick was walking over in his direction.

"Problem handlin' the men?" he asked dryly.

"I got it handled," Heath replied, remounting. "Where do you want me, Nick?"

"You and Rico work the canyon," Nick commanded. "I think it's wise that you stay away from Sinclair and Barrett."

"Come on, Kid," Heath directed to the Mexican boy. "Let's get goin'."

The two rode off, ready to put in a full morning pulling strays out of the rocky gorge.

"Barrett and Sinclair are trouble," McCall advised, stepping up to join Nick. "I think you'd be money in the bank just to let them both go."

"Forget it!" Nick stated firmly. "We need all the men we can get right now. Two down will only hold us up all the more."

"Or cost you even more time," the aged foreman replied with a note of sarcasm.

"When I want your advice, Duke, I'll ask for it!" Nick shot. "We'll take turns supervisin' the crews. I'll take first shift while you watch camp."

McCall shook his head in disgust as the dark cowboy mounted Coco and rode off toward the flats. Some people just never learn!

"I'm gonna kick that scrawny hide of his clean off of this ranch!" Sinclair ranted as he burped up the aftereffects of the swallowed wad of chewing tobacco. "And ol' Nick...he'll be thankin' me, too! You just wait and find out for yourself!"

"You bet he will," Barrett smirked. "That is if the lynchin' committee don't see to it first."

"Ha! That's right," echoed Sinclair. "Them good, respectable townsfolk may just be givin' him a sendoff to Boot Hill. Once they catch wind of what he'd been up to while pretendin' to be such a respectable member of the family, we might as well just sit back and watch the show."

"When do we start?" Barrett inquired, grinning sadistically as he thought of all the fun he was going to have.

"Not for a couple've days," Sinclair directed. "We just sit back and wait...wait for the perfect timin' and then we make our move."

"What about that Cortez kid?" Barrett wanted to know. "He's been gettin' awful chummy lately. All the more so since we had our last little talk with him."

"We'll handle him," Sinclair assured. "Either he'll obey or I'll have the buzzards pickin' him clean."

"I knew I could count on you," Barrett said, a wide smile spreading across his unshaven face. "Come on, let's get them strays rounded up. If we get fired now, it could ruin everything."

Audra couldn't remember a dinner quite so fine. Elliott had arranged for the table in the back of the Alhambra Club to be reserved, allowing them seclusion and privacy. The champagne was wonderful, the oysters divine, the seafood bisque was tantalizing and the duck l'orange and wild rice with asparagus melted in her mouth. Now the waiter set the peaches aflame briefly before them, then covering the flames and pouring the wonderful rich sauce over the freshly made vanilla ice cream.

She found him mesmerizing, and was captivated by the ease with which he carried on the conversation. His sense of humor was dry and she found herself laughing and returning his banter as if she'd known his for years. It was more than the handsome face, fine figure and terrific personality. Those green eyes had her hypnotized and she felt tingly inside. They lingered over coffee, Audra listening to him tell tales of his teenage heroics with Nick and their many adventures.

The slight breeze in the normally humid summer air was refreshing. She leaned back in the seat of his buggy and enjoyed the brief respite from the intense heat. The house was so quiet and dull with all her brothers gone...Jarrod in San Francisco and Heath and Nick out on roundup. The steady rocking of the carriage and the glasses of fine champagne caused her to become drowsy.

Elliott glanced over at the beauty sleeping beside him. He slowed the team down, savoring every minute. He smiled, proud of how well the dinner had gone. He oozed charm and she drank it in. It would be easier than he thought. Eyeing the ripe morsel beside him, every curve clinging to the satin dress, he was looking forward to the trip. He brushed his hand across her cheek and she smiled, snuggling closer. He eased one arm around her and caressed her lower arm as he approached the Barkley property.

What a wonderful dream. It was a spring day and she was out riding. Elliott was just behind her. They were racing to a large tree ahead in a meadow. He pulled ahead of her and jumped down. He reached up for her and stumbled, pulling the two of them down to the ground. He pulled her close and kissed her.

"Audra? Audra...hey, wake up, Sleeping Beauty," he teased.

She sat up and felt the flush creep up her face, recalling the vivid dream. She looked up surprised that they were in front of the mansion. She shyly looked at the flowers he'd brought her, now nestled in her lap. She lifted them and inhaled their sweet fragrance.

"It was such a wonderful night, Elliott. I hate to see it end."

"Ah, but then so much more to look forward to, Dear Lady, on our next encounter... Thursday evening if you are free."

"I'll be looking forward to it, Elliot," she said breathlessly.

Her heart was pounding as he leaned in and brushed his lips across her forehead. Easing out of the seat, he walked around the carriage and lifted her down. She felt ripples of heat rising up her back, where his strong hands gripped her waist. He set her down and kissed her hand.

"Until then, Audra, I remain your humble servant."

She stood transfixed as he drove off. She didn't feel the ground under her feet, or the steps leading upstairs. The next two days would be endless waiting for Thursday night to come. As she undressed and put on her cotton shift, she recalled all the fairy tales her father told her as a child. Her last thought as she fell asleep was of the Prince Charming her father promised her as a little girl. He wasn't riding a white horse, but his carriage seemed to her to be made of gold.

Heath glanced back at Rico as the two ushered the remaining strays into the makeshift pen. It had taken them the better part of the day to find and drive the wayward steers to this area to be branded and tallied. The calves shifted nervously, seeking out their mothers.

"What now, Senor?"

"Well, you ride back and tell Nick we're all set here. I'll start tallying until you get back with the branding irons. Go on, if you hustle, we can get finished early, before the sun sets."

Heath climbed down from Buster as Rico left. He had hated leaving Charger back at the ranch for two whole weeks, but a roundup was not the place to try and fine-tune a green horse. For cutting cows, he needed something that would turn on a dime. Charger was broke, but needed a little training before he'd be ready to work pens. Heath thought of the horse waiting for him back at the ranch. Heath had never owned such a magnificent animal. He was fast, smart and seemed to fit with Heath like a hand in a glove.

"You're a good boy, too," Heath spoke outloud to the buckskin. "But don't go gettin' any notions about runnin' off while we're out here. That's what I brought these along for," he said, holding up a pair of leather hobbles that he had looped over the saddle horn. Buster's only retort was a loud snort. "Don't blame me, Boy. You brung it all on yourself," Heath soothed running a hand along the horse's mane as he reached for his canteen. He took several long gulps and drained it. Bending down and hobbling the 'Houdini Horse', Heath took out his tally book and started counting. He was almost done when he stumbled and grabbed the fence for support. Shaking his head, he slid to his knees. Try as he might, he couldn't muster the muscle it took to remain upright.

Sinclair waited until the blond was out cold. He propped him up against the fence and tilted his head back, opening his mouth. He poured little bits of the spirited liquor into the unconscious man and patiently waited until each little bit was swallowed. He threw the empty bottle in the brush nearby and unlatched the gate. Smiling, he remounted his horse and took off, retracing his path back to where Nick Barkley was supervising. The short cut would enable him to have a front row seat when the fireworks started.

Nick looked up as Rico Cortez arrived. McCall had just ridden in as well.

"Senor Nick, we are finished. Senor Heath sent me to get you and bring the branding irons."

"Okay, Rico. McCall, you grab a couple men and head out with me," Nick said eyeing the dozen or so men gathered about.

"Nick, we're all caught up if you need a hand," Barrett offered.

"Yeah, okay, you two come along."

"Nick, I don't think that's a good idea," McCall said, smelling a rat.

"That's why I'm the boss, Duke, now let's ride."

Rico knew that bad feeling that had disappeared over the last week was about to return. He saw the cows scattering and heard Nick's bellow.

"Get after them, Watson, then ride back and get some help," Nick hollered.

Nick scanned the horizon and spotted the makeshift pen, with the gate opened. Only about half of the cows and calves remained. He spotted Heath slumped forward against the gate as Buster grazed nearby. His ire emerged at the sight of the slumbering blond.

"That's it, I've had it with him," he clenched as he rode ahead of the pack and drew Coco to a halt just short of the fenceline.

The anger rose in him, keeping time with the steady steam of curses. He was only a few feet away when a nervous group of cattle, ran along the fenceline, causing Heath to shift and his upper body tumble inside.

"Heath!"

Nick dove at his brother, covering the distance in seconds. Grabbing the unconscious man, he pulled him out of harm's way and shielded his body as the nervous cows started to rush by. He rolled as hard as he could, sending the two of them down a short incline. He heard McCall and the men above taking control. Kneeling upright, he waved the dust away and turned the body over. He lifted the sweaty blond head with one hand and felt for a pulse with the other.

"Heath, come on. Snap out of it," he called, tapping the still face.

"Heath?" He leaned in as a cough emerged, the essence of alcohol racing ahead.

He dropped his brother and stood up, cursing and kicking up the dust nearby. He saw the eyes blink and grabbed the sweat-soaked shirt, at the neckline.

"I warned you, Heath. A good day's work shot to hell 'cause you got drunk. I oughtta kick your butt from here back to Stockton. What's the matter with you?" he raged.

Sinclair and Barrett slid off their horses and watched from above. Sinclair looked back to check if McCall was watching. Since he had time, he kicked the bottle, sending it sliding down the hill. Nudging his partner in crime, he eased back as Nick's eyes caught the flask.

"I suppose you got no idea where this came from, either? Get up!" he gruffed, looming over the dazed body.

It seemed to Heath that everything was in slow motion. He could see Nick and he knew Nick was talking to him, but he couldn't hear the words. His head was pounding, his mouth was on fire and he knew what would follow. He felt Nick's hand at his neckline fisting the blue fabric as he drove his point home. Then suddenly he was gone as the first wave of pain hit. He curled up and turned over, rocking on his knees. He felt an arm guide him and tried not to let it come up. Nick was about to pound some sense into his inebriated brother, when he was pulled away by a set of strong arms. Duke looked up the hill and saw the pair of weasels smirking.

"You ain't bein' paid to stand around," he snarled. "You get to that brandin' or I'll send you packin'. Now go!"

He waited until they disappeared and pulled Nick several feet away. Nick immediately fought to get back at the sotted form on the ground.

"Get offa me. He's got this coming. I warned him..."

"You stay here! I wanna have a look at him," McCall warned, releasing Nick when the dark cowboy nodded.

Duke knelt by Heath and steadied him while he got sick. He heard the suppressed cries of pain and saw how hard the drugged man clutched his abdomen.

"Go on, let it out, Boy. You'll feel better when it's done," he soothed.

Finally he felt the cramped muscles relax and was able to ease Heath into a sitting position against Rico. Rico had arrived just after Duke and had brought fresh water.

"Here, Senor McCall, " he said, handing the canteen to Duke.

Heath's eyes were closed, his skin clammy and his breath coming in pants. Duke tapped the face lightly, and the eyes opened a slit.

"Heath, I want to look at your eyes, you just relax," Duke said, as Nick appeared over his shoulder.

"What's wrong with him?" he said in a concerned voice that surprised them both.

Duke didn't answer right away and looked hard into the drowsy man's eyes. Nodding to Rico, he handed the canteen to Heath and urged him to drink.

"You take it real slow, but drink all you can. I'll get a horse and we'll get you back to camp. Your gut still hurtin'?"

Heath nodded and closed his eyes, savoring the cool water. Duke got up and pulled Nick to the side.

"Well?" Nick asked, his features screwed up against the sun behind the foreman.

"I'd bet my paycheck he's been drugged," the older man said.

"Drugged? How? And by who?" Nick said looking back at where Rico was struggling to get Heath on his feet.

"I worked on the Barbery Coast when I was much younger, before I met your father. I've seen this before. He's got all the symptoms...thirst, pain in the gut, throwing up, dizziness...and then there's his eyes, the dialated pupils. That's a dead giveaway. Somebody's got it in for him...setting him up to get at you. "

Nick shifted uncomfortably and looked back at the topside of the hill. Slowly he turned back as Heath staggered over to where he and McCall stood.

"Will he be okay?" Nick managed.

"What he needs is to get out of this sun...plenty of water and some sleep. Nick, you need to start opening them eyes of yours. That boy's had enough. How much more do you think he can shoulder?"

"Yeah, I hear ya," Nick said patting the foreman's back.

Heath didn't know what Duke said, but he saw Nick's features soften and felt the tension leave him as he walked over to the pair.

"Nick, I'm sorry, I don't know how that happened. That gate was secured. I'll go and get them strays," Heath offered weakly.

"The boys topside got it all covered. You go back with McCall and get some rest and take it easy. I need you to be ready in the morning," Nick said as he turned and went up the hill.

At the camp, Heath smiled wanly as the foreman held his horse so that he could dismout. "Thanks, Duke," he said.

"You get in the shade and keep drinking that water...and you get some sleep. You'll feel better in the morning."

"I never got sunsickness like that before."

"That wasn't the sun, Boy. I think you were drugged. You watch your back, you hear?"

Heath nodded and took his bedroll to a nearby tree. He eased himself down and greedily drank the water. He thought on Duke's words. He remembered Cortez saying Barrett handed out the sandwiches they ate for lunch. Duke was right, he'd have to be more careful. One good thing...whatever Duke said to Nick seemed to have worked. He drifted off to sleep hoping the new dawn would bring some peace.

Nick loped up the road leading to the barn. In spite of a few problems, roundup had been a success and was now completed, though the day wasn't half spent. Nick was still angry with Heath for all the troubles they'd endured while out on roundup, but relieved to have put another year's ritual behind him. The men had worked hard over the past two weeks, and when the last calf was tagged and branded, Nick had declared the remainder of the day a 'Barkley holiday', complete with slack time. He'd assigned a half dozen men to night guard, leaving the rest free to celebrate in town

Nick slackened his pace as he neared the corral where he kept Misty's Golden Sunrise, his newest flight of fancy. She was a registered quarter-horse mare, descended from the finest bloodlines. He had already made the arrangements to breed her to Carl Wheeler's stallion, Prince of Nottingham. She was just coming into heat, and he would take her over there later this afternoon. Together, the two would produce a trophy animal...one that was sure to put the dark cowboy in the winning ring at many a competition.

Stopping for a moment to admire his 'golden girl', Nick's ardent affection was soon masked with an exploding choler. Already in the process of performing his studly duties, a certain buckskin stallion was taking full advantage of the seasoned mare. With nothing but visions of vengeance capturing his every thought, he spurred Coco into a full gallop, bypassing the barn completely. Slide stopping in front of the house, the windows shook as Nick made his entrance known.

"HEATH!" Nick hollered at the top of his lungs as his boots played a war dance across the foyer floor. "Where are you! Get in here, NOW!"

Heath sat up from the sofa where he'd been resting, trying to keep his stomach settled. Nick's voice pounded in his skull like nails in a plank. His distorted vision took in the irate face as it loomed nearby.

"What's goin' on?" he blinked and stood up.

"That degenerate, mongrel stallion of yours jumpin' my prize mare, is what's goin' on!" the tall cowboy railed. "I thought you were goin' to see to it that that disaster on four legs was kept at bay! Well, he's loose, Boy, and someone's goin' be payin' the piper before I'm through here!"

"Now, hold on, Nick. That's impossible. I locked Buster in the paddock myself. There's no way that even he could have figured a way outta that!"

"Well, he did!" Nick seethed, now viewing the situation in a different light. "That ill-bred stallion of yours just ruined any chance I had at gettin' a purebred colt outta Misty for at least two more years! I hope you're satisfied! Guess you and that half-breed are one of a kind! About as pure as a putrid waterin' hole!"

"You think so!" Heath's voice was hard and flat. "Well, I guess me and Buster will spare you of ever haftin' to drink anything that ain't pure and served in a golden goblet. You want us gone? We're outta here!"

"You're not going anywhere, Boy," Nick said, grabbing the muscular shoulder as it headed for the stairs.

Heath turned and glared at the gloved hand, until it slid down his arm and turned him. He met his brother's gaze as the order was spewed forth.

"The only place you and that sorry excuse for horseflesh are goin' is on night guard. That Cortez kid can't handle the West side alone. Buck, Walters, Billy and Charlie will cover the rest. The rest of the men are in town. You got it?"

Nick backed down a step as the steely gaze bore into him. He recognized the look, having seen it before on the faces of some of the toughest men he'd come against. He saw the fists unclench and the slight nod. Without a word, Heath tread up the stairs and into his room, closing the door and shutting them out.

From his place in the foyer, Nick watched as Heath disappeared down the hall towards his room. It wasn't until he heard the bedroom door slam shut that Audra made her presence known.

"Nick, how could you?" she wept empathetically. "How could you say such cruel things? Sometimes I just...I just hate you!" she blurted right before bolting for the staircase, leaving Nick more dumbfounded than ever.

Up in the room that had been his, Heath gathered his things together. With Barrett and Sinclair trying to frame him and all the flack he'd been taking from Nick and the other men, his thirst to claim his heritage had been quenched. How could he have been so foolish as to think he could actually take on the Barkley name. It would never be anything more than 'half' his. His thoughts were interrupted by a light rap at the door.

"Heath, I need to talk to you," his sister's voice pleaded.

"Ain't nothin' to talk about," he gruffed through the door.

"Please, Heath. It would mean so much to me!"

"Not now, Audra. Leave me alone, please?"

"All right, Heath. But I want your word, we'll talk later."

"Yeah, okay, Sis," he said, grateful for the retreating footsteps.

The room seemed to get smaller and he felt dizzy. Pouring a glass of water from the full pitcher on his nightstand, he sat on the soft bed and thought hard. He eyed his bedroll and the few possessions he'd collected on his trip from Strawberry. He looked across the room at the small leather satchel. How many times had he seen her clutch it to her chest? He'd been so torn up when she died and so busy since, he'd never bothered to open it. He remembered her eyes frantically gazing at it as she tried to tell him.

Heath took several deep breaths and tried to quell the sour stomach. He looked at the bedroll again and made his decision. He couldn''t run out on Rico. The kid had worked by his side all this time with loyalty and devotion. He'd finish his tour tonight and head in before dawn. He'd be packed and gone before they got up. He stretched out on the bed and closed his eyes hoping for a few hours of sleep. It would be the last soft bed he'd sleep on for some time he thought as he drifted off.

Heath yawned and sat up, rubbing his eyes. He looked around in the pitch dark and rolled over on all fours. The pounding in head and the sour stomach were all too familiar. He braced himself and doubled over, heaving until his stomach was empty. Staggering to his horse, he reached for the canteen, then remembered he'd drained it right before Watson relieved him on night duty. He didn't even remember getting off his horse, let alone passing out. Long hours never put him out like this before. Climbing on his horse, he headed for the ranch. He stretched in the saddle, trying to stay awake. Looking up at the silver disk in the sky that rode with him, he hoped he'd be able to stay awake long enough to grab his things. The late hour worked to his advantage as it had, on and off, since his arrival. Nick had seen fit to assign him lots of solo work, creating long hours. He knew it didn't sit well with Mrs. Barkley or Jarrod, but Nick only answered to himself. Actually, he felt more at ease eating late suppers with Silas at the kitchen table.

Tonight would be different. He wouldn't be enjoying the wonderful soft mattress and hot bath. He'd had his fill of that loud mouth brother of his. He didn't take to anybody calling him a liar...Nick Barkley be damned. As he rode, his anger built, squelching the small part of him inside that hurt. All he'd wanted was for Nick to give him a chance. He'd never worked harder and felt lonelier. All thoughts of seeing respect in his brother's hazel eyes died out as Heath thought of his midnight departure from all that was Barkley. He'd get word to Rico so that they could meet up later.

"Sure will miss that fine bed tonight," he thought out loud stroking Buster's neck.

He didn't realize how correct his statement would turn out to be.

"Hurry up! The sheriff has men out on patrol," Barrett whispered under the scarf.

"Yeah, I hear ya. I'm almost done," Sinclair said, dumping the coins from the safe into a bag.

The two gathered up the bags full of booty, coins, stocks, jewels and cash from the safe. The rest of the gang was downstairs carefully selecting two paintings from the owner's private collection. They met in the foyer.

"Where's Wolf?"

"Upstairs having some fun," Sinclair snickered.

The impatient leader raced up the stairs and followed the screams. He looked on in disgust as Wolf backhanded the sobbing woman and knelt over her. He met the scarred man's eye over the fallen woman and nodded with his head. Wolf understood. Forcing a final kiss on the victim, he leered and rose to leave. He turned the lamp up and threw it against the curtains. Hearing the call from below, he knew Jones had set a fire there also. It was time to move. She managed to grab onto him, screaming for help. He threw her hard against the wall and sent her sprawling. Dazed, she started to crawl through the flames licking up at her torn chemise and a vicious kick from his boot sent her backwards into oblivion.

He took the bag of jewels and ran down the stairs. His partner was furious and Wolf thought they'd come to blows.

"That was a stupid thing to do! We could have been long gone," he seethed.

"She was too ripe to pass up. You got bad timing. I didn't even get started. Don't worry, she won't be talking to anyone," Wolf replied.

"The sheriff will be here before Barkley gets here. Are you sure this will work?" Barrett asked, leaving the gang's black scarf with a wolf paw insignia on the front of the door.

Sinclair didn't answer. He smiled, knowing what the impending hoofbeats would declare.

"Rider comin'," Banjo hollered, reining his horse as he approached. "It's Barkley. He's right close, we best get goin'."

"Pete, you're a genius!" Jones lauded as the gang rode off.

Heath saw the flames and rode harder towards the Miller house. Adam Miller was in his fifties...a widower who remarried recently to a very young Spanish beauty. Their property bordered the Barkley's and Heath had admired the house when he had passed it before. Flames danced at the windows on the upper floor and off the side porch. Heath jumped from his horse and ran to the door. The heavy smoke caused his eyes to tear, and a blast of smoke started him coughing. Spotting a scarf by the door, he tied it around his face and ran inside.

"Mr. Miller? Mrs. Miller?" he choked, staggering in the firelight.

He heard a weak cry from upstairs and took the steps two at a time. He saw her in the hall and lifted her over his shoulder, managing to get her outside. Leaving her on the porch, he ran back inside towards the wall of fire. He saw the body by the sofa, blood covering the silver-haired man's face. Before he could make a decision on his next move, a vicious blow to the midsection took all his air away. He was unconscious before he hit the floor. The figure pulled him to the doorway, and hearing the approaching posse, left him in full view, ripe for arrest.

The sheriff dropped beside the body of Mrs. Miller. He was surprised at the pulse, weak but steady. His gaze took in the torn chemise and scratches. He looked up as Billy Yates, his deputy cried out from the porch. Billy was pulling another body down the steps and over towards the side yard.

"It's one of them. Look at the scarf," he indicated as the flames from the window illuminated the white wolf paw covering the man's face.

"He dead?" came a call from one of the posse, now approaching.

"Dunno," Billy said, squatting and turning the man over. "It's Heath Barkley. Geez, looks like Burke was right on the money."

The sheriff knelt down and examined him. Unbuttoning the shirt, he checked the neck and chest carefully. The face was clear too...no scratch marks.

"They must have heard us coming and he was last out," Ike Clements, another deputy, suggested.

"Maybe...Billy you get him to town. Dan, take Mrs. Miller to the Doc's. I'll ride out to the ranch and then send the coroner out."

"Coroner? I thought you said she's alive," Billy nodded at Mrs. Miller.

"She is, her husband ain't. He's in there somewhere." He indicated the inferno that the remaining men were trying to put out.

Ike and Billy tied Heath's hands behind his back and threw him over a horse. The two set off for the jail and Fred went the opposite direction toward the Barkley home.

Pounding on the massive front door, it took several minutes before he heard voices. The door opened and Jarrod stood before him, buttoning a shirt. Squinting out into the night, the last face he expected to see was the sheriff.

"Fred? What are you doing out here?"

"Can I come in Jarrod? It's important."

Jarrod nodded and moved aside, allowing the lawman to enter the house.

"What's going on?" Nick grumbled as he made his way downstairs.

"Fred? What are you doing here?" Victoria followed her son.

"There no easy way to say this. That wolf pack hit another ranch tonight....the Miller place. There was a fire. Bill was killed and Maria was badly hurt. I've got a team out there now, trying to put it out. "

"That's horrible," Victoria's hand went to her throat. "I've known Bill for ...over twenty years. How tragic. How badly was Maria hurt?"

"I won't know that until the doctor examines her. It appeared to me as if she might have been assaulted."

"My God, that's barbaric," Jarrod exclaimed.

"So why are you here, Fred?" Nick inquired.

Fred shuffled uncomfortably and sighed heavily. Looking past Nick to Jarrod and Victoria, he finally spoke.

"We found someone who may be a part of the gang...he got caught in the fire. Billy took him in to jail."

Nick swiveled his head up towards the empty bedroom above and back to Fred. Before the sheriff could answer, he cursed and slammed his hand against the railing.

"I knew it! I told you he was trouble, but you wouldn't listen. Well, now Bill Miller has paid the price. I hope you're satisfied!"

"Heath?" Jarrod said incredulously. "You can't be serious."

"I'm sorry, Jarrod. You might want to ride back with me. He'll need to talk to you. It looks bad."

"I'll be right with you." Jarrod turned to go upstairs, but Nick jumped in front of him.

"What are you doing? You're going to help him? That no account bastard?"

The slap was so hard, Nick's ears rang. He rubbed the stinging cheek and looked back at his mother's wrath.

"How dare you! Don't you ever refer to him like that again. He's your brother and a Barkley, whether you like it or not. "

Nick glared at the trio and retreated up the stairs, slamming his door. Jarrod hugged his mother and nodded.

"I'm sure there's a logical explanation. He may be a lot of things, but he's no criminal. I'm sure by morning I'll have him back home. Don't worry."

"Was he hurt?" Victoria asked.

"He was out cold when we found him. I didn't see any marks on him. Looks like the smoke got to him."

Jarrod returned in a flash and the two set off into the night.

Heath noticed the spots first. Black spots that danced before his bleary eyes each time he coughed. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get enough air. His chest ached and any attempt at moving only produced pain and nausea. He squinted through the dancing spots and saw bars. Jail? How'd he get here? His first mistake was sitting up. He closed his burning eyes and tried to remember. Night guard, he was riding home and...he passed out and got sick. He was headed for ....where? Think Heath, he told himself. Home to pack...that was it. As much as his parched mouth sought water, it was just too painful to move. He remembered a fight, broken porcelain...Nick? Did he hurt Nick so bad that he got arrested? A severe coughing spasm ended the confused man's journey as a black curtain fell and launched him forward.

"Nick, are you awake?"

"Yeah, Mother, come on in," he grumbled.

She crossed the room and stood next to him by the window. She rubbed the side of his arm and watched the seeds of doubt try to overtake the wrath on his face. She knew that deep inside he didn't want to push Heath away. That is what bothered him now.

"You're having second thoughts, aren't you?"

"I don't know what to think. How come you all see him so differently?"

"We don't see him differently, Nick. You haven't allowed yourself to see him for what he is. All you can see is your wounded pride."

"Mother, I'm not..."

"Let me finish. The fact that I see doubt in your eyes leads me to believe that maybe you're finally coming to terms with this. Heath is not your enemy. He was an innocent child, born into a situation over which he had no control. He didn't hurt you, Nick. You're angry with your father. You feel betrayed somehow."

He broke away and stalked the room, his long legs pacing a steady pattern back and forth. He saw the imploring eyes she cast upon him. He stopped his journey at the small saddle... remembering his first horse with his father by his side, and so proud. Try as he might, the anger built again.

"I'm tired, Mother. I'm going to bed."

"All right, Nick, but I want you to go to the jail with me in the morning. You will look your brother right in the eyes and then you tell me if you still think he's a killer. You know I'm right, Nick. He's been set up and that is who you should be angry with, not Heath."

She left him pondering her words. As she turned out the light in her bedroom, she wondered once more if peace would ever fill these halls again.

Fred led Jarrod into the office and saw Billy behind the desk. The deputy was busy, filling in the details for the report on the fire and robbery. He looked as Jarrod spoke.

"Is my brother all right? How badly was he hurt? What did Mrs. Miller have to say?"

"One thing at a time. He was coughing for quite a spell, but he's quiet now. I don't think he's hurt bad. I haven't had time to go to the Doc's and check on Mrs. Miller."

"Come on, Jarrod." Fred tugged at Jarrod's shirt as he grabbed the keys. "Let's go check on Heath."

Jarrod followed the sheriff down the narrow corridor and his fury rose when he spotted his unconscious brother lying face down on the cement floor.

"What's he doing on the floor? Why didn't Billy keep a watch on him?"

"Billy! Get in here," Fred hollered as Jarrod scrambled past him.

Jarrod gently turned Heath over and with Fred's help, laid him back on the bunk. He tapped the sooty face lightly and called to Heath, but got no response. He spotted the blue and purple peeking out from under the torn shirt. Pulling the shirt up and to the side, he winced at the bruise that was obviously no accident.

"Did you have some 'fun' with him on the way in?" he glared at the deputy.

"Now, you hold it right there, Jarrod, " Fred warned "I know you're upset, but you know Billy better than that."

"Well, somebody clubbed him, Fred. That sure looks like it came from a rifle blow," Jarrod said angrily.

Heath moaned as Jarrod's fingers deftly ran over the left side of the bruised ribcage.

"I don't think they're broken. Fred, I need some water and towels." Jarrod turned, "And I want Doc Merar to have a look at him."

It was nearly dawn when Jarrod turned from the pinks and purples of the sky out the window. He didn't see the eyes following him. He sat down and looked up in surprise.

"Heath? How are you? I've sent for the doctor, he should be along soon."

Heath nodded and placed one hand on his aching side and the other to his fuzzy head. He remembered bits and pieces, but the only lasting image was Nick's fury, the broken vase and blood.

"Jarrod, how bad is he? He just got me so fired up that I couldn't help myself."

Jarrod's brow furrowed as he poured his dazed brother a glass of water and sat down by his side. Did Heath have a fight with Bill Miller? What connection could there be? What could Miller have said to upset Heath so?

Heath's parched throat sent a message to his mind. His eyes caught the pitcher across the cell and he stood on uncertain legs and walked over. He drained a glass and poured another one. He had just taken a mouthful, when Jarrod's words caused him to spin around in shock, sputtering as the hurried gulp caused him to choke.

"He's dead, Heath. I want you to think carefully and tell me everything you remember about last night."

Jarrod was taken back by Heath's severe reaction. He expected his brother to be upset, but the wounded look in the sky-blue eyes and the shock on his face was much stronger than the lawyer had anticipated. Heath remained frozen in place and the shaking hands placed the cup back on the table. He shook his head as if to clear it and to somehow make the words go away.

"Jarrod, I...I'm sorry. I didn't think I hit him that hard. My God, what have I done?" Heath choked.

He had killed his own brother. Despite all their differences, he was a brother, and one who maybe, given time, he could have gotten to know better. Both of them had been too stubborn to swallow their pride and put aside their differences. Now, any chance of a resolution was sealed forever.

Jarrod watched as the anguished face raised up to meet his oldest brother's eyes.

"How...I mean I can't remember too much...bits and pieces, a fight, the broken vase. How'd I get here?"

"Fred and Billy saw the fire and rode in just in time. They found you on the front porch and..."

"Fire! There was a fire? Audra and your mother, they're all right aren't they? Please, Jarrod I gotta know!"

Jarrod's confusion at his brother's frantic voice followed the younger man as he resumed his seat. Heath's forlorn form sank onto the bunk next to him. His face was buried in his hands and it took a minute for Jarrod to realize just why Heath was so devastated.

"Heath, the fire was at the Miller ranch, not ours. That gang struck again, robbing the place and setting the fire. The sheriff found you unconscious on the porch."

Jarrod watched concerned as Heath's head shot up and he leaned back against the walls of the small cell. Shaking his head, he turned and looked, wearing a mask of enormous relief. He expelled some air and coughed and then leaned forward, resting on his knees.

"Then Nick's alive?"

"Nick? Nick's fine. Oh, Heath, is that what you thought...that you'd killed Nick?"

Jarrod saw the fair head nod and reached out and put an arm around the slumped shoulders. No wonder he was so stunned. He waited a moment and then pressed Heath with some questions.

"Heath, what happened to you after you rode out for night guard last night. Let's start with that."

"Nothing. I finished up and Watson relieved me. I drained my canteen and must have passed out. I woke up and.. pains in my gut...got sick. "

"Okay, so you were on your way home and you saw the fire?"

Heath rubbed his eyes and tried to remember. Yes, that was it, he spotted the flames and remembered the scream.

"I heard her screaming. I ran in and she was headed toward the stairs, crawling. I got her outside and went back in to get her husband. He was...."

"Go on, Heath. Did you see Bill? Was he still alive?"

Heath thought hard and shook his head. "No, he was dead...bleeding all over the carpet. Somebody clubbed me," he winced, brushing his hand over the bruise, "and that was it. The lights went out."

Jarrod paced for several minutes and added up the clues. Someone had set Heath up for the fall. He thought of Heath's actions in the prior weeks...passing out, incoherent, being sick. Someone had drugged him somehow and without an alibi, knew he'd be the prime suspect. What was the common factor?

"Heath, how many times have you had these spells? You know, when you've passed out and become sick upon awakening?"

"Hmm...let's see. First time was the day I picked up the pumps. That wasn't too bad. Then a few days ago on roundup. That was bad. The pain was worse and so was the throwing up. If McCall hadn't been there and known what to do...," his weary voice trailed off.

"Then last night...is that all? Just those three episodes?"

"Yup."

"There's a common link we're missing. Someone drugged you each time to set you up. What happened on roundup while you were unconscious?"

"I was gathering strays to be branded, but I passed out and they all got loose. Nick would have liked to have killed me. Somebody left an empty bottle again, like before. McCall knew right away I was drugged. He kept checking my eyes. I don't know what he said to Nick, but it worked. Nick told me to take it easy and left. "

"What's the last thing you did before you passed out?"

"It was hot and them critters gave me a rough go of it. I latched the pen and finished the water in the canteen."

"That's it, Heath! It's in the water in the canteen. Each time you took a drink from the canteen prior to passing out. So somebody on the ranch is behind this...which means that they're also a part of the Wolf pack."

"I know who it is. McCall suspects them too." Heath looked over as Jarrod studied him. "It's Barrett and Sinclair."

The sheriff had been listening and nodded to Jarrod through the bars. The doctor was behind him. Fred motioned for Jarrod to come outside and let the doctor inside.

"Mrs. MIller?" Jarrod asked as he met Doctor Merer at the cell door.

"She'll be fine. She was beaten pretty badly and broke an arm and some ribs, but she wasn't violated. She said Heath saved her life."

"So he's free to go?"

"Sorry, Jarrod, not so fast," The sheriff interceded. "She passed out before she finished giving her statement. I agree with you. I think that the boy's innocent, but I need for her to make that statement official. He'll be safe here. She'll probably come around later. I've got Billy beside the bed waiting for her to wake up. Come on, now. Let the doctor inside."

Jarrod sat down by the sheriff's desk. Fred Madden, the sheriff, handed him a report. Jarrod scanned the contents, a dossier of the previous robberies the pack was suspected of. The events stretched back over several years.

"Just how was it that you and Billy were so close to the fire? More than a little convenient, wouldn't you say?" Jarrod inquired.

"We got a tip. We were following a suspect," Fred hesitantly stated.

"A tip? A suspect? Heath? You were following my brother." Jarrod's ire rose with his voice.

"Simmer down! We had to, Jarrod. The tip said Heath was unaccounted for during the hours of the first incident...that he was on Applegate Turnoff right next to that ranch. All was quiet while he was on roundup, so when the hands started arriving in town last night, we figured we'd stake out the ranch. We picked up his trail all the way to the Miller place."

"Where did you get this information?"

"From me," a third voice said as Roger Burke entered the room.

"Roger? I can't believe it. Why didn't you come to me?"

"I left a note for you to see me, Jarrod. You were up in 'Frisco. You must have gone straight home yesterday. If it were true, I couldn't risk being responsible for losing the prime suspect. Yesterday a note was left on my desk. It incriminated your brother. I took it to the sheriff. I'm sorry, Jarrod."

"That's fine, Roger, now that you have a noose around his neck," Jarrod issued sternly.

"Look, Jarrod, I didn't have a choice. I'm not the bad guy," Roger reasoned.

Jarrod knew that his friend was upset. Roger wouldn't ever intentionally hurt someone. He was only doing his job, taking a lead to the local law enforcer.

"How is he?" Jarrod asked as the doctor reappeared.

"He's fine. I gave him something to settle his stomach. He should sleep for a while. He was drugged, Jarrod. That's was caused him to pass out. The severe thirst, stomach pains, stupor and memory lapse are all symptoms. He told me about the liquor bottle. Whoever did this to him forgot one thing."

"What's that?" Roger asked.

"That the pupils of your eyes can't hide the effects a drug has on your system. Someone gave him a good dose last night. Now, I'd best get back to Mrs. Miller."

"Thanks, Doc," Jarrod said as the physician left.

"Jarrod, you heard what he said. Heath will be sleeping for hours. I'll keep a watch on him. You go home, get some sleep and update your family."

"Okay, Fred," Jarrod said.

He walked back and entered Heath's cell. His brother was dozing, but opened his eyes as Jarrod leaned over him. He sat up despite Jarrod's protest.

"You take it easy and get some sleep. I'll be back later. There's a good chance you'll be released this afternoon. I left fresh clothes in the corner if you need them. Do you want anything else before I go? Something to eat?"

Heath's face paled and he shook his head. His stomach felt like a circus was parading around inside of it.

"Jarrod?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks."

Jarrod saw so much in those expressive pale eyes. He put his arm around his brother's shoulders and gave his back a pat. He looked around the small cell and realized it wasn't the best place to convey a message, but beggar's can't be choosers. He turned to face Heath and spoke sincerely.

"I realized earlier while you were asleep that it's a month today that I acquired a new brother. I thought at first it was the murder trial that kept me busy. That was part of it, but...I should have reached out a lot sooner. It's hard for me to imagine the strength and guts it took to do what you've done. I'm sorry, Heath. I'd like to make it right. I believe you and will do everything in my power to uncover the truth. More important, I'd like the chance to get to know Heath Barkley. I think I could learn a lot from him."

Heath listened and felt each word penetrate deep inside. He glanced away once or twice, unable to meet Jarrod's strong gaze. He knew Jarrod meant every word and felt a burden had been lifted. He looked up as his brother stood to leave. He saw the hand extended and grasped it firmly.

"Reckon, there's a whole lot this hard head of mine can learn too. Guess I'm always expecting to be kicked in the teeth again. That 'reaching out' part works two ways, Jarrod. My arm was a little short, too."

He felt something as Jarrod left. Yawning, he returned to the cot. He closed his eyes and heard the cell door clang. As he dozed off, he realized he wasn't alone anymore. He could trust Jarrod.

"Everything okay?" Roger asked, feeling a little guilty.

"I hope so, Roger. We had a little talk...one that was several weeks overdue."

Jarrod walked to the door and felt the tap on his shoulder. He turned and saw the contrite look in the light green eyes.

"Still friends?" Roger asked.

"You buy me a fast breakfast at Maude's and I'll think about it," Jarrod teased, shaking the offered hand.

The two headed for the cafe next door where Jarrod filled Roger in on what Heath had told him. Half an hour later Jarrod rode home, and Roger sat at his desk and pulled out a copy of the sheriff's report. He studied the past history of the previous crimes. He started writing notes, his hand flying across the paper. He looked at his watch, and gathering his notes, headed out the door.