The sun was starting to dip in the sky as Marshal Heath Thomson rolled the problem of John Freemont around in his head on the way back to Stockton. The day’s riding yielding no results except for questions and an increased pounding in his head.

The jail attack by Freemont had been expected. It had been one of the contingencies he had discussed with Sheriff Maden.

What had been unexpected was the timing of it. It was in the daylight and not planned up to Freemont’s normal standards. He had rushed the attempt as if he had a deadline to keep.

‘A deadline to keep? Hmmm.’ thought the marshal wondering if his train of thought was onto something.

Riding up the street, Heath rode to the livery and unsaddled his horse. Taking extra time to groom Charger and give him an extra ration of oats. Entering the cell of the deputy’s lame horse, he changed the mudpack and curried the animal.

Grabbing his rifle and saddlebags, he walked up the street towards the jail stopped by the telegraph delivery boy. Handing the young lad a tip, Heath continued on and tapped on the jail’s door.

Billy watching from the windows, unlocked the door and allowed the marshal access. “Evening, Marshal.”

“Deputy. Everything okay?” asked Heath setting his items on a bench.

“Not a peep out of anyone.” replied Billy. “Marshal, thanks for the use of your spare horse.”

Waving off the thanks, Heath sat in the Sheriff’s chair, drank a glass of water mixed with headache powder and pulled the wires from his pocket. “It’s the least I could do Deputy. Your horse’ll be fine in a few days once the swelling goes down.”

Taking the coffee the deputy poured him, he sipped it and read the wires. “Three more marshals will be arriving tomorrow. That should defer another attempt by Freemont.”

Sipping his coffee, Heath couldn’t get past the feeling he was on the right path when he thought Freemont was acting as if he were on a deadline.

“I’m gonna visit with the prisoner.” stated Heath jerking open the inner door.

Taking a chair by the door, Heath straddled it outside the cell with his arms across the back and stared at Croker.

Croker glared back into the cold blue eyes, his falling away first. “What do ya’ want?”

“I’m thinking, Croker.”

Snorting, the prisoner sat back against the wall, sarcasm thickening his voice, “Must hurt ya’, huh, Marshal?”

The blue eyes burned through him to his soul and Croker shifted uncomfortably. The intense eyes quivering his stomach, nervousness causing him to shout out. “Do it someplace else!”

Twenty minutes passed in the stillness of the holding area, the only sound the breaths drawn by both men and the squeaking of the cot as Croker shifted under the intense glare.

“What’s your brother planning?” asked Heath suddenly, catching the slight widening of the dark eyes, the darting of the eyes and the slight jump of the nervous man on the cot.

Croker stilled himself and asked offhandedly, “What are ya’ talking about?”

Smiling, Heath said, “John’s usually a better planner. There must be a reason for his messing up in his rush to get you out.”

“It’s just cause he’s my brother, that’s why. You should know that’s what brothers do for each other.” snapped Croker.

“Not having any, I wouldn’t know.”

Looking at the truth spelled out in the face of the lawman, Croker’s face lit up with delight. Jumping up from the cot, he walked to the bars and laughed.

“It’s true then. Shows how much you know, Marshal Bastard! Your brothers brought you in yesterday.”

Jerking up from the chair and throwing it to the side, Heath’s face turned cold, “What the hell are you talking about, Croker?”

The evil delight showed in the prisoner’s face, his eyes lighting up. “I heard the widow Barkley say to those two boys you were their brother.”

His fist grabbed the shirt through the bars and he yanked Croker forward, slamming his head up against the metal. Looking into the dark eyes, Heath’s stomach lurched seeing the truth revealed there.

Flashing, the scenes played out in his mind since his arrival in Stockton.

His mind saw the looks on the brothers when they first saw his face. His mind saw the stunned look of Dr. Merar. His mind saw the sideways looks when he walked down the boardwalks in this town.

Pushing the man back on the cot, he jerked open the outer door, the slam cutting off the laughter and taunts. Billy jumped and turned at the unexpected noise, the face of the marshal frightening him, the fury in the voice cold and deadly.

“Which way’s the Barkley ranch?”

The pounding on the front door was answered by Silas. Opening the door, he was stunned for a moment by the forcible anger being exuded from the blonde man with the marshal’s badge.

“Can I’s help ya?” asked Silas quietly.

“I want to see the Barkleys.” stated Heath through clenched jaws, the ride over not tempering his anger a bit, only further enraging him from the thoughts running amuck in his head.

“I’s’ll let ‘em know.”

Gently pushing the elderly man aside, the marshal replied firmly, “No. I’ll let them know.”

Silas’ protests went unheeded as the blonde stalked towards the voices in the parlor. Heath’s unexpected arrival stopped the voices and his eyes were riveted on the young woman standing in front of the group.

Audra had turned towards the direction of the others’ eyes, the startled gasps of the two blondes could be heard through the stillness of the room. Walking over, Heath stared at the young lady who could be his twin, an almost mirrored reflection of his face.

On their own, his fingers gently touched her cheek before he jerked his hand away as if scorched by her soft skin and stepped abruptly back. Tension straightened his body, making it stiff and rigid.

His sapphire blue eyes, agonized with pain and wonder for a brief moment, before being hardened with fury as he glared at his father’s family.

His voice was cold as the words rang out through the mansion, lasting long after his quick departure.

“It’s true, I’m his bastard son! Damn him for what he did! Damn you for not telling me!”

The unexpected arrival, cold words and sudden departure from the mansion by their half brother, stunned Nick and Jarrod, stopping their limbs from working. Audra’s confusion at the sight of herself looking back at her was quietly cleared up by her mother.

“He’s our brother?” repeated Audra sitting down in a chair, her legs trembling. “Does Gene know?”

“No, honey.” stated Jarrod. “We were planning to tell you after you finished telling us about your stay in San Francisco with Holly and her aunt.”

“We gotta bring him back.” announced Nick jumping up and heading to the door.

“NICHOLAS!” shouted his mother. “NOT NOW!”

Stopping his progress, Nick walked back, “But Mother, Heath’s...”

“Heath’s not going to listen. He’s too angry and hurt now.” explained Victoria sadly, thinking of the cold blue eyes which matched the cold voice. “You’ll be speaking to a brick wall.”

Jarrod sighed in agreement, walking over to his younger brother and squeezing his shoulder. Neither man was ready to let a brother walk away from them without a fight.

Having discussed it during the day with their Mother, they’d finally decided the best way was to ask Heath to Jarrod’s office tomorrow and break the news of his heritage to him. Only it appeared they were a day late.

“Mother’s right, Nick. We have to give him time to calm down. At this point, anything we say to him would fall on deaf ears.”

Nodding, Nick felt the tension leaving his body. “What are we gonna do if he won’t listen? He probably thinks we weren’t ever gonna say anything!”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, Nicholas.” advised Victoria standing and wrapping an arm around her shaken daughter.

“I suggest we come up with a way to get Heath to agree to meet with us. Somehow, I don’t think it will be easy.”

The pounding of Charger’s hooves matched the beat of his rider’s heart. The beating the only sounds in the night, his eyes not seeing anything except the flashing of the faces before him.

The small cabin he had grown up in could fit in the foyer of the mansion. The luxury, a sharp contrast to the poverty, his mother and he had drowned in.

The froth on Charger’s coat woke within him the realization of his actions. Stopping the massive horse, he dismounted and leaned against the saddle. The leather cooling his brow from the fever of fury whipping around inside him.

“Sorry old friend.” whispered the marshal, his hand rubbing the bay’s nose. “A walk’ll do us both good.”

Tugging on the reins, the horse followed as his master walked. His mind running wild with thoughts, the only emotions in him, confusion and anger. He could feel the old wildness welling within him, the old fury he had fought to control over the years, questions repeating themselves over and over.

“How could Tom Barkley, the supposed great man, do that to his mother? How could he let his mother suffer that way? Did his family know all this time he existed?”

“Why didn’t the Barkleys say something when we first met? Would it have made a difference if they had? Isn’t a regular family with brothers and sisters what he always wanted growing up?”

The last question stopping his walk under the moonless sky.

A harsh laughter escaped his lips, “Should’ve been careful what I wished for as a child. What the hell am I gonna do with it now that I got it?”

The night passed as he walked back into Stockton, his steps had grown tired but he hadn’t climbed back on his horse. He wanted to let the exhaustion of his body wrack him, in hopes, it would stop the torment in his mind.

Checking in with the deputy, he stabled his horse and walked down to the hotel. He lay on the bed exhausted from the self-punishment to his body. Closing his eyes, he slept terribly, harshness of his past reliving itself in his dreams.

Waking in the early morning, he looked in the mirror and stared at the haunted face. His cold eyes staring back at him, his mind struggling to get past the turmoil, which had been revived in him.

Angry at the weakness his emotions were able to bring out in him, the turmoil they created. He just wanted to shut out the questions, shut out his thoughts and escape this place. Heath knew staying in this place would only pile more anguish on top of an already frightfully painful past and life.

He headed down to the depot to await the arrival of the other marshals, his decision on his course of action already made.

Only a few of his closest friends, all fellow lawmen, knew the circumstances of Heath Thomson’s birth and subsequent difficult life. Only those few were trusted enough by the quiet man with this knowledge. Only those few had seen the recklessness that lay beneath the surface of the man, kept under control by a tight rein.

One of these few was Jack Larkin.

He’d been an acquaintance of Frank Sawyer’s when he first hired the young deputy. When an opening appeared in his unit, Jack Larkin recruited Heath Thomson into the marshal service one year later.

The quickness of reflexes, the tenacity, the courage and the workings of his mind were a veritable gold mine to the marshal service. The two worked closely with each other and over the years formed a steel bond of trust.

Stepping off the train in Stockton, Jack’s eyes took in the look on the face of his protégé. His eyes narrowing at the sight of the two guns strapped to Heath’s narrow hips. The other two marshals, Fogerty and Nichols, shook Heath’s hand and greeted him warmly before they walked to the sheriff’s office.

Jack Larkin, senior marshal, relieved the deputy placing Fogerty in the jail and Nichols on the roof across the street. Motioning to Heath, Jack walked to the restaurant he had noticed and seated them in a corner.

Ordering breakfast for both, they drank coffee and he waited patiently. Looking at the blonde, Jack pointed out quietly, “I didn’t know ya’ was back to wearing two guns.”

“No rule against it, Jack.” responded Heath quietly.

“It’s been a long time since ya’ done that. You looking to hunt someone?”

“John Freemont. He’s up to something, I can sense in my gut I’m right. Now, I just have to figure out what it is.” explained Heath with a frown. “No one will be safe while he’s running around.”

Nodding in agreement, Jack sighed, “You’re right, Heath. He’s a bad one all right. Why do ya’ think he’s up to something.”

Explaining the bungled break out attempt, the obvious lack of planning and Luke Croker’s reactions in the cell later, Jack chuckled, “Ya’ probably took ten years off Freemont’s life when he heard your voice.”

The laughter between the friends was cutoff by the stiffening of Heath’s body and the arrival of two men and two women into the restaurant. The whispered curse from the man beside him had Jack looking at Heath in surprise.

Heath had not expected to see them so soon, he was not prepared to meet them again.

His blue eyes were pleading as his voice whispered, “I found out last night those people are my father’s family. I need to get out of Stockton. Let me work on finding out what Freemont is up to. Let me handle that end of it. I need time, Jack.”

“You promise to stay in control and focus on your job?” whispered Jack receiving a quick nod of agreement.

Two things about Marshal Heath Thomson, he didn’t lie and he didn’t ask for favors. His asking for this favor reflected how much Heath was in turmoil, how much staying here would affect him and his work.

“Okay, I’ll handle it.” whispered Jack and then quickly added. “You better use the wire service to keep in touch, boy. I’ll give you the time you need. Then, we’ll talk.”

The two marshals stood up and nodded to the group of people slowly approaching the table. Nick’s steps stopped at the two guns on his brother, his questioning hazel eyes raised and looked into the cool blue ones.

Heath introduced the Barkleys to his superior. Jarrod introduced his sister to both men. Cordially greeting the family, Jack Larkin turned and spoke, “You best get going Thomson and let me know what you find out.”

“Yes, sir.” nodded Heath, tipping his hat to the women and escaping the suffocating restaurant.

Nick turned to follow and was stopped by the firm voice, “I’d leave your brother alone, if I was you, Mr. Barkley.”

Victoria smiled slightly at the older marshal’s choice of words which stopped her headstrong son in his tracks. The other diners in the restaurant had stopped and stared at the resemblance between Audra Barkley and the young marshal. The gossip mongers were going to have a field day with this scandal.

Jarrod calmly suggested that perhaps this conversation best take place in the haven of his office down the street. Agreeing, Jack Larkin followed the Barkleys to the attorney’s office, stopping briefly to speak with Sheriff Maden and watching with concerned eyes when Heath rode out of town on his mission.

The eyes of the Barkleys followed until they could no longer see the back of Heath. Unlocking the door, the small group entered and the prying eyes of Stockton were shut out.

Jack leaned against the wall and listened to the conversation intently. The whole family was genuinely concerned over the welfare of Heath and his reaction of the previous night.

Nick Barkley ranted and raved over his leaving. The concern showed in his hazel eyes, the worry over the welfare of this new brother who was wearing two guns.

Clearing his throat, Jack replied calmly, “If I may, Mrs. Barkley.”

“Certainly, Marshal Larkin.” conceded Victoria.

“Heath’s primary focus right now is his job. That is what he’s here for. That’s where I need him to be. If he has other things on his mind, he can’t effectively do his job. That, in itself, would be a danger to all present and not acceptable to him or myself.”

“Take him off the job then.” snapped Nick. “Bring him back!”

Chuckling, Jack shook his head, “If you get to know your brother, you’ll soon come to realize your request is not an easy thing.”

“If, Marshal Larkin?” inquired Jarrod. “Are you saying Heath may choose to not come back? He may choose to leave us behind without giving us a chance?”

All eyes of the family turned to the marshal. Sighing, Jack straightened and met the eyes of all.

Walking to the door, he put his hand on the gold knob and looked back at the gathered family, “Heath Thomson is my friend. He’s an honorable, decent, courageous man and a damn good marshal. He’d be a welcome addition to any family, but he won’t let you take him by force. If he can’t give it freely, he won’t give it at all.”

Meeting each of their eyes, Larkin asked quietly, “What would you do in his boots? How would you react after twenty four years of having no knowledge of your father’s family? How would you handle the questions and turmoil in your mind?”

The closing door was the only sound in the room as each of the family members tried to work their way around Larkin’s final words and the questions he asked.

What would they have done in Heath’s place?

After several minutes ticked slowly by, Nick smiled ruefully, thinking he may have done the same thing. After using his fists, he’d have worked it in his mind and rolled it around before deciding what the future would be. He’d have done it on his own and away from the source of the turmoil.

Looking into the eyes of his older brother, both men nodded in agreement of their unspoken thoughts.

They’d give him time to wrap his mind around it before finding him and grabbing the running bull by the horns.

John Freemont was hopping mad and everyone around him knew it. His voice thundered throughout the cave, creating an echo that drove the words into the ears of the others several times. His behavior of today no different than his furious words and behavior of yesterday.

He was so close to the big score and yet, further away then he had been all his life. He needed his little brother’s expertise to help pull it off. He didn’t have time to find anyone else, the deadline was fast approaching.

Pacing angrily, he shook his head. Luke had to go and get himself caught. Hell, that murder was three years old. He didn’t get caught for three years! Then four weeks before the job, his tail gets caught in a sling! His ass dragged back here by Marshal Thomson!

Thomson! It would have to be him. Couldn’t be some green lawman, some sane lawman. No! It had to be the crazy one!

Stalking outside the cave, Freemont walked through the trees and to a stream. Staring at the rushing water, his mind traveled back to the last time the two met. His hand unconsciously rubbed the scars on his right side. One from a bullet, the other from a doctor’s scalpel.

The round scar from the bullet Marshal Thomson sent into his body before falling unconscious from Freemont’s own pieces of lead in his shoulder and leg. Thomson’s bullet had burst his appendix and he almost died. He had lain in bed three weeks after the last meeting between them.

Heath Thomson had been the only lawman who’d ever come close to catching him. Now, he was here, showing up again like a bad penny.

Sighing loudly, he sat up against a tree and contemplated his next move. How to get Luke out of that jail?

Blasting in there with guns, hadn’t worked. No, the sheriff had been prepared and the place turned out to be locked up tighter than a barroom whore until you paid money for her services.

That damn Thomson and his smart mouth. “I’ll trade him for you!” Marshal smart ass.

Jerking his head up, Freemont listened to the words in his head. An evil look ran across the dark face and his laughter melded in with the rushing waters of the stream. Hurrying back to the cave, he gathered his crew around and laid out the plan. Looking at one another, the men rushed to saddle their horses.

....Continued