They rode into the one-horse town of Strawberry soon after. As Bob took notice of the saloon he suggested a halt to quench their thirst.

“I wouldn’t advise it, Bob, unless you want to leave a foul taste in your mouth. They don’t have many customers and therefore the beer stays in the kegs for weeks. It’s real stale. No, wait till we get to Mary’s place. She’ll fix you a strong pick-me-up.”

“This Mary, you haven’t told her we were coming.”

“Doesn’t matter. She’s like my sister. I can drop in on her anytime. She’s not afraid to tell me off if she doesn’t want me around. She’s a great gal.”

“If you say so. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He pointed to a small house to the left. “Here we are.”

Both dismounted and tethered their horses to the hitching post. Inside the house, Mary heard the noise and went to the window. She squealed with delight at the sight of Heath and rushed to open the door. “Heath!” She bounced down the steps and met him halfway the tiny flowery path leading to the front door. “I’m so glad to see you back.” She flung her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. As she opened her eyes she noticed Bob sheepishly standing in the background, fiddling nervously with the rim of his hat. She pulled back and with a raised eyebrow, queried Heath about him.

With a hand on the small of her back Heath brought her to meet with Bob. “He needs a place to stay for a few days and I instantly thought of you.”

Mary felt rather awkward at Heath’s request; reason being that Bob was a total stranger but Heath was quick to dispel her qualms with his reassurance of his presence in the house during Bob’s stay.

While Bob was settling in his room, downstairs Mary and Heath took seats at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee. “I think he’s my brother, Mary,” Heath blurted out, blowing on his steaming coffee before taking a sip. He glanced over the rim of his cup at Mary who stared wide-eyed at him. “When we got to the Barkley ranch, the matriarch cried out his name, Nick, blubbering something about her believing he was dead. She scared the devil out of him and he hightailed it out of there. I told her I’d bring him back but obviously I didn’t. I’d have to wire her tomorrow to let her know he’s in good hands.”

“No!” Bob blared out. “I don’t want her to know where I am.”

“I won’t tell her where you are; only that you’re safe.”

“All right, I’m …I’m sorry,” Bob stuttered apologetically. “I didn’t mean to snap at you, it’s just that…” he inhaled deeply to clear the confusion whirling within, “heck I don’t know. I’m so confused.” He flumped down in a chair next to Heath and leaned back, looking upward at the ceiling as if to bring some clarity into this chaos. “What if she’s right and that I am her son?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

“Go back there?” Heath nodded. “I’ll have to think about it.”

“If you are indeed Nick Barkley, that means we’re brothers.” The fraternal word shook Heath’s being to the very core, imbuing him with an overflowing sense of pride and most importantly one of quietude that he never experienced growing up without siblings.

“That’d be great, wouldn’t it?” Bob’s enthusiasm was limited to a faint smile.

“All right.” Heath stood from his chair and put on his hat. “I’m going to ride into town to send a wire to the Barkleys.”

“You won’t say anything about where I am?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll just tell them you’re in good hands.” He flashed Bob a reassuring grin and winked at Mary. “I won’t be long.”

Once out the door, Mary placed a gentle hand on Bob’s arm. “Heath is true to his words. You couldn’t find a more loyal friend than him. I know.”

“You’re his girlfriend?”

Mary stifled a chuckle at the comment. “No, we’re just good friends. We’ve known each other since we were kids.” She cocked her head to will Bob’s downcast eyes to hers. “Hey! Don’t look so glum. Everything will be fine.”

“Ever since I woke up with my memory completely wiped out I longed to find my true identity. And now that I might have, I’m scared of it being true” He paused to exhale a deep breath, and then shook his head in despair, “What’s wrong with me?”

This time Mary found herself at a lost for words. She could only provide the prostrated man comfort in one of her fetching smiles.

Once the telegram sent, Heath sidled over to the sheriff’s office to thumb through the wanted posters. The lawman obliged him with old and recent pictures of criminals and missing persons. Much to his dismay Heath didn’t match any with Bob’s face. He thanked the sheriff and rode back to Mary’s house.

In Stockton, the urgent telegram was hand-delivered by the head operator himself, eager to ascertain the news of Nick’s resurrection.

“Victoria, is it true?” Charlie’s excitement could hardly be contained. He had taken part in the search for Nick when the news of his disappearance hit home and to this day, he never resigned to the seemingly cold hard facts that the spirited cowboy had drown in that river.

“Yes it’s true. I saw him,” Victoria confirmed with a light quaver in her voice. “A slightly altered appearance perhaps but those eyes reflected my Nick’s soul. When I cried out his name, he panicked.”

“Panicked? Why?”

“Apparently he’s suffering from amnesia.”

“But I don’t understand. How did he find his way back if he doesn’t know who you are?”

“He came with a young man, the same who sent this telegram. Mr. Thomson came looking for a job on the ranch and Nick happened to be with him. Other than that I’m in the dark. I hope to find answers soon.”

“This man, Heath Tom…”

“Thomson.”

“Do you trust him?”

“He hasn’t given me a reason not to. Then again I don’t know the young man. He’s just someone I saw in passing, though…” Her voice tailed off has she recalled Heath’s familiar features. “he looked strangely familiar.”

“Hasn’t ever occurred that he might have been the one behind Nick’s disappearance in the first place?” He implied bluntly.

“I strongly doubt that,” Victoria retorted, appalled by Charlie’s unfounded allegation. “What would be his gain?”

“Money. You said he looked familiar to you.” Charlie continued to harp on the subject in order to sew the seed of doubt in the delicate frame of mind. “Maybe he’s the son of an old foe seeking revenge. I’d have him investigate if I were you.”

“I’ll think about it, Charlie. Thank you for coming by.” Victoria escorted her long-time friend to the door; a wave of relief quickly washing over her at his departure. She was disturbed by his promptness to throw the blame on a man he knew only by name.

The name Thomson kept nagging at Victoria all through the evening. Jarrod tried vainly to enter into a conversation with her but she would remain evasive in her answers.

“Mother, I’ve decided to have Heath Thomson investigated,” Jarrod curtly announced, breaking into Victoria’s haze. She cast him a stern look of disapproval that he didn’t care to acknowledge. “I know what you’re thinking, but we need to locate Nick as soon as possible.”

“What makes you think that by delving into the young man’s past you will find your brother?”

“If we know where Thomson lives…” Jarrod implied, the unfinished sentence conveying his thoughts.

“No.”

“Mother,” Jarrod insisted.

“Jarrod I said no. You leave him alone, do I make myself clear?” She spoke icily, her eyes ablaze with an anger that urged Jarrod to heed her warning.

“Mother, this Heath Thomson could be a fortune hunter. Ever thought of that?”

“Funny, that’s what Charlie alleged.” She dabbed at her mouth with her napkin and pushed back her chair. “If you’ll excuse me Jarrod, I’m going for a stroll in the garden.”

“Want some company?”

“Not tonight.” She brushed her hand against his cheek in a grateful gesture. “Besides you need to go meet Audra at the train station.”

“Should I tell her about Nick?”

“I would wait until we hear from Mr. Thomson.” She waited for Jarrod’s nod of acknowledgement to exit the dining room.

With one cleansing breath after the other, Victoria sauntered about in her cherished rose garden. A yellow bloom inexplicably caught her attention and as she bent down to steal a whiff of its intoxicating fragrance, it hit her. Tom’s face on the day of their first wedding anniversary flashed before her eyes. His beaming smile as he surprised her with a posy of prime yellow roses thrust her back to her meeting with Heath Thomson. “Thomson,” she whispered to herself, shaken by the name that suddenly brought forth a deluge of raw memories. “Oh no, could it be?”

She hurried back into the house and ran up the stairs to her room to rummage through her drawers in search of a particular photograph she kept hidden for personal reasons. She held the picture of Tom and herself taken in a Strawberry restaurant on the day of their celebration dinner in honor of the opening of the Barkley mine that was to generate dozens of jobs for the dying little town. Days later she returned to Stockton by herself, leaving Tom to supervise operations for a few more weeks. Three months later, he returned a changed man with the lingering effects of amnesia. She recalled his being extremely grateful of a young waitress named Leah Thomson who nursed him back to health. “No, he couldn’t have,” Victoria condemned, struggling to deny what was evidently irrefutable truth in Heath’s striking features.

Dawn had barely mantled over in the sky that Victoria snuck out of the house and had Ciego get the surrey ready. She swore him to secrecy about driving into Strawberry. “If anyone asks I went into town.”

“Mrs. Barkley I cannot lie to your family, they’ll see right through me,” Ciego whined, visibly bothered by the situation. “At least let me go with you.”

“You’ll be fine, Ciego. I’m counting on you. I should be back in early afternoon.”

“Aye, aye, aye,” Ciego lamented, already feeling the burden of the enormous task ahead.

Remorseful of having to put Ciego in a tight spot, Victoria laid a reassuring hand on his arm and smiled apologically, “I’m sorry Ciego. It’s obvious I made you ill at ease. Should you be put against the wall I won’t blame you if you tell. Just warn them that I forbid anyone to follow me.”

“I like that better,” Ciego sighed with relief.

With Ciego’s courteous assistance, Victoria climbed aboard the surrey. She cast him one last smile before she flicked the horse at a light amble.

Never had she imagined that this once teeming town of Strawberry would ever know such decadence. Her face was cringed with disgust as she took in the sights that spawn a sense of pity within her. Although folks appeared to be functioning adequately with little they had she nevertheless felt the oppressing guilt of Tom’s decision to withdraw his initial investment over a quarrel of property rights.

Driving past the small decrepit cemetery, she noticed a lone figure paying its respect to a dearly departed. Unable to establish his identity, she opted to stop the surrey in front of the gate and ventured onto the burial ground. From a side angle she clearly identified the mourner who remained undisturbed by her presence.

“How did you find me?” Heath’s question bore overtones of bitterness, clearly upset by her intrusion.

“I remembered the name. Thomson. Your mother was Leah Thomsom, wasn’t it?”

Heath motioned to the tombstone before him. “That’s her. My mama,” he quavered, his bottom lip trembling.

“I remember my husband spoke highly of her. She was a wonderful, kind and caring woman. She nursed him back to health when he was savagely attacked.”

“I know,” Heath confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “When she died, she asked me to read her personal diary. That’s how I came to…”

“Yes?”

“It’s not important.” Heath brusquely dismissed as he stood from his hunched position. “You came for your son?”

“I did. I know you told us to exercise patience while he sorted out his feelings but for a grieving mother, whose son’s death tore at her heart and soul, understand that waiting was not an option.”

“Even if you stand to lose him forever? That might very well happen if you pressure him.”

“I won’t lose him again. Whatever it takes I’ll make him come back with me.” Her straightforward answer imbued with an unwavering fortitude reminded Heath of his own strong-minded mother. For a fleeting moment he surprisingly felt the urge to enlace this petite woman into his arms to absorb all of her fervour.

“Come with me.” Heath beckoned Victoria to follow him out of the cemetery where he mounted his horse. “I’ll bring you to him, but…” he waited until Victoria had taken place in the surrey before continuing, “you must wait outside while I tell him you’re here to see him. I don’t think surprising him is the way to go about it.”

“I agree Mister Thomson.”

“Please, call me Heath.”

Victoria smiled responsively, her heart leaping to her throat at the all too familiar lopsided grin flashing before her.

“Do you think it’s a good idea?” Mary queried Heath about Victoria’s request. “It’s still too soon. He’s lost and confused. He has no recollection of this woman. He needs more time to jog his memory before he confronts his family. If anything she’ll scare him away.”

“You’re most welcome to convince her to turn back. I’m telling you Sissy, she’s one determined woman.”

“Sounds familiar.” Mary thoughtful expression was unmistakably referring to Heath’s mother whom she considered like her own for many years.

“Where is he?”

“In his room. He wasn’t feeling well.”

“Boy howdy, wait till I tell him who’s come to fetch him.” Under Mary amused smile, Heath breathed in a lungful, squared up his shoulders and with a faltering step, marched up to their guest’s bedroom.

Heath delicately rapped on the door and waited for Bob’s invitation before nudging his way in. “Mary told me you weren’t feeling well.”

“Just a headache,” Bob exhaled, his arm spread across his forehead as he lay in his bed.

“You’re trying too hard.”

“I can’t help it.” He sluggishly raised himself into a sitting position and swung his legs on the floor. “That woman is haunting my mind.”

“That woman is here.”

Bob’s head jerk up at the news; his eyes narrowed in contempt at the thought of his friend‘s betrayal. “You didn’t bring her here?” he lashed out on an accusatory tone.

“No. She came by herself. I was visiting my mama’s grave when she rode into town.”

“How did she find us?”

“She knew my name, Thomson. Her husband told her about my mother taking care of him when he was here.”

“Does she know you’re her step son?”

“No, I don’t think she does. And I don’t want to tell her either.”

“Why not?”

“This is definitely not the time nor the place. She’s got a lot of healing to do and I don’t want to rub salt in the wound.” Heath paused to gauge Bob’s reaction. “So, should I ask her to come in?”

“Yeah.” Bob conceded in a heavy sigh. “Mind as well face it now.”

“I’ll bring her in.” Heath retraced his steps to the door. He stopped, turned round and cast an encouraging wink to Bob. “You’ll be fine…Nick.” He ended on a light tease that elicited a chuckle out of the troubled man.

“He’d like to see now,” Heath announced to Victoria.

She drew in a deep breath to collect her thoughts and followed Heath inside the house. After exchanging a few greetings with Mary, she was escorted to the guest bedroom.

“I’ll leave you two alone to talk. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.” The anxious man smiled gratefully at his host for the offer he knew was directed at him rather than at the visitor.

A tense stillness ensued during which mother and son engaged in a staring contest. The tension mounted as the silence lingered; no one wanting to speak first for fear of severing the thin thread that momentarily held them both on the same wavelength.

“I don’t know what to say, obviously. I’m trying but I just can’t recall your face, much less your name.”

“It’s Victoria Barkley.”

“Victoria Barkley,” he mused to himself, shaking his head in resignation. “It doesn’t mean anything. I wish it did. You seem like a very nice lady.”

She blushed at the compliment. “Thank you.”

“I do have one question. Why didn’t you look for me? Why did you just assume I was dead?” Bob’s waspish accusation stabbed at her stricken conscience. It was the one question she hoped to delay until her son had regained some of his memory. She dreaded the timing would provide Nick with reasons to mistrust her and thus compromise her chances of convincing him to return home.

“We did. Oh God we did. For nearly a week we combed the riverbank for miles. Our friends and neighbours pledged their time to join in the search. But when they found your hat, your vest, your gunbelt and…” he voice faltered at the thought of the next pieces of clothing. She closed her eyes to squeeze out a few tears and once the emotional crisis passed, she continued, “we found a boot and a shred of underwear on which was embroidered the initial NB. It was irrefutable proof that you had drown in that river.”

“But you didn’t find a body. That should have set you off that things were not what they appeared to be,” Bob countered furiously, his anger getting the better of him.

“I didn’t want to believe you were dead. I wanted to continue the search, send pictures to every sheriff in the county but everyone convinced me otherwise.” She held her hands to her face as she cried her apologies. “I shouldn’t have listened to them. I should have done what my heart and was urging me to do. God, why did I yield?”

Bob felt a pang of conscience at his action. He had triggered a flood of remorse within the woman whose profuse apologies, oddly, were brushing off him.

“I’d really be dead if it hadn’t been for Bill Atkinson and specially his foreman. He’s the one who found me half dead.”

“I am grateful to them.”

“You should be,” Bob replied curtly, though his heart pricked at him for being so callous.

“I should ask why didn’t they try to find out who you were; where you came from? What right had they to give you a new identity and discard your past?” she countered with the same vehemence.

Bob was stumped. He had no answer. Granted, it hurt to know his mother had yielded to peer pressure urging her to abandon the search, but conversely Atkinson was as much to blame for sticking him with a fake name and sweeping his past under the rug. So mesmerized by his idyllic boss was he that he never pushed the issue in that regard. He concluded that he and Victoria were the innocent victims and thought that perhaps time had come to make peace and try to make this work. “You want me to come back with you, don’t you?”

Eyes dropped on a soaring heart. Victoria was numb with elation, unable to voice her gratefulness at Nick’s question. She nodded, bracing herself for his answer. “I’ll go on one condition.”

“Anything.”

“Heath comes with me.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she smiled gratefully, inching toward the son she wished to enlaced in her arms, but refrained herself for fear her gesture could be considered too forward.

“You don’t mind if I still call you Mrs. Barkley? I feel awkward calling you mother under the circumstances.”

“You proceed at your own step. I won’t push you. But would you mind if I call you Nick?”

Nick winced at her request. Although he wanted to comply with her wish, he didn’t feel ready to adopt a name that still sounded so alien to him. “I’ll think about it.”

“Okay,” she breathed out in a shivering whisper. “I respect your wish. I am just grateful to have you returning home with me.”

“The man I saw when I came to the ranch with Heath…”

“Silas? Our houseman?”

“No, the other one I crossed path with on the front door.”

“That would be Jarrod, your big brother. He’s looking forward to having you back home.”

“Jarrod,” Nick pondered, closing his eyes to concentrate on the very name. “It doesn’t ring a bell to me. Is he the only brother I have?”

“Yes. But you do have a sister. She’s younger and her name is Audra.”

Infuriated at his inability to recall his siblings, Nick shifted his gaze to the window where he stood rooted to the spot and stared out into nothingness. “Please, ask Heath to come in. I need to talk to him.”

“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?” Victoria asked with an edge of trepidation.

“Don’t worry, I’m not. I just want to talk to him about the trip. ‘Cause if he doesn’t go, I don’t either.”

“I understand.” She lowered her eyes and turned to cross to the door. She stopped and closed her eyes before uttering in a soft voice, “I love you Nick.”

Once out of the room, Nick opened the dam to a flood of tears and sighed, “I wish you hadn’t said that.”

...Continued