“Here, drink this Audra,” Victoria egged on, raising the rim of the glass to her daughter’s mouth to assist her in drinking.

“Thanks Mother,” Audra whispered feebly.

“You’re welcomed Sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

“Hot and sick. Mother I can’t stand it anymore. When will it stop?”

Audra’s plea tore at Victoria’s heart. She was falling apart at the seams sitting there, hopelessly watching her children’s strength slowly wither as the disease gradually progressed. She could only provide a soothing hand against her daughter’s cheek. “Soon, dear. Soon. Eugene is doing everything humanly possible to make you all better. I’m proud of him.”

“Me too?” Audra mused weakly. “How’s Heath and Jarrod?” Victoria drew a silent breath at the question that held a grim answer.

“There are holding their own,” she replied with a contrived smile that failed to convince Audra.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Victoria’s silence put the fear of God into her. “Mother? Tell me. Are they going to…”

“Of course not, sweetheart,” Victoria interjected before Audra could finish her thought.

“Jarrod is conscious and aware of his surroundings and Heath is…” her voice faltered as the haunting image of last night’s hallucinatory episode danced before her eyes. “well Heath has had a rough night but he’s better now,” she fibbed to allay her daughter’s anguish. “You rest now. I’ll be back to check on you a little later.”

“Thanks Mother. I’m sorry to be such a bother.”

“Hush Audra. I don’t ever want to hear you talk like that,” Victoria chastised amicably, squeezing her daughter’s hand before crossing to the door. Outside in the hallway, she leaned against the wall and with a heavy-laden sigh she raised her eyes upwards to send a silent prayer to the heavens.

“Mother!” Nick bellowed from down the hall.

“Nick! Oh Nick!” she met him halfway to fall into his arms. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

He unwillingly disengaged the tight clench to read his mother’s drawn features that spoke volume on the amount of anxiety sustained in the course of the past three days. “Mother, are you all right?”

“A little tired, but otherwise I’m fine.” She gasps at the sight of all the bruises covering Nick’s face. “What happened to you?”

“Bruises, courtesy of Art Caldwell I was barely off the stage that he lunged at me and proceeded to beat me to a pulp, accusing me of having killed his son.”

“Oh no.” she brushed a hand against his bruised cheek. “Why would he attack you?”

“Did you know?” Victoria’s brow furrowed quizzically. “It was our beef that was infected with anthrax. Everyone that was at the party early this week got sick. Question is how come I’m not, or you’re not?”

“Eugene explained that the incubation period for anthrax can vary from twelve hours to as many as twelve days.”

“So we can still come down with it,” Nick asked worriedly, getting a heavy nod in return.

“Nick,” she paused, delicately pressing her hands against his chest to gaze into his eyes. “Melanie is here.”

“Oh no. Not her too? Where have you put her?”

“Mrs. Barkley! Mrs. Barkley!” Silas shouted hysterically while running down the hall.

“Silas what is it?”

“It’s Mister Heath. He’s bad.”

Victoria and Nick dashed to Heath’s room where Eugene was scrambling to help his brother breathe. “Oh good Nick, you’re here,” he waved him closer to the bed where he instructed him to sit on the edge of the mattress. “Prop your back against the headboard and lift him in your arms. Then ease him against you. That ought to help clear his airway,” Gene instructed calmly.

“Dear God he’s burning up!” Nick observed with disgust.

“I know. For some reason his body hasn’t been responding favorably to the medicine.”

“Niiiiiiiick,” Heath drawled out in a whisper.

“Yeah I’m here, Heath. Come on, breathe easy now. That’s it, Nice and easy,” he pacified, pleased to see that his coaching was bearing fruit. Although the respiration returned to an acceptable rate, his wheezing amplified. Nick looked up at his mother he could see swaying lightly. “Silas, escort my mother down to her room, will you? Make her lie down.”

“Nick, I’m fine,” she insisted, though her drawn features and red-puffy eyed belied her statement. “I need to be with my son.”

“Mother, Nick’s right,” Gene agreed, as he administered Heath one more spoonful of quinine. “You won’t help anyone by making yourself sick.”

Before she could retort Victoria collapsed into Silas’s waiting arms. Gene sprung to his feet, his hand instantly going to her forehead. “Oh God.”

“Not her too?” Nick asked.

“I’m afraid so. Silas, help me carry her down to her room.” With an acquiescing nod the black servant lifted her legs while Gene slid his hands underneath her arms.

“Nick, how could this have happened?” Heath condemned in a feeble sigh, his drooping eyelids waging war against his yearning to remain conscious.

“I don’t know Heath, but I’ll be sure to find out.”

The news of the anthrax outbreak spread like wildfire, scaring the patrons away at the Cattlemen’s. The manager who barely could make ends meet last month now faced a critical dilemma. A wealthy entrepreneur who showed keen interest in acquiring his business had approached him, but he had snubbed his generous offer of a substantial profit, stating personal reasons.

Harold Munson sat behind his desk in his small office going over the books with a dreary expression. The numbers were heralding a bleak forecast for business with little prospect of a rebound. His assistant manager edged up to the desk and broached the delicate subject of the only possible solution.

“Harry, I think you should sell out while this guy’s offer still on the table.”

“”No,” Harry replied curtly. “This is just a temporary set back. We’ll bounce back once the threat of anthrax is over.”

“I don’t believe people will be that forgiving. This is no common-ordinary indigestion we have here. Folks are dying.”

“I know!” He lashed out, hurling his pen onto the table. “I can’t sell out. This is a family business. I made a promise to my dad on his dead bed.” He paused to swallow the emotional lump in his throat, after which he drew in a deep breath to regain his composure. “We’ll have to muddle through somehow. But listen…if you want out to find yourself another job I’ll understand.”

“No. I’m sticking with you, boss. I’ve got some money put away. I can survive a few more weeks.”

“Thanks James,” Harry smiled gratefully.

“Anybody here?” shouted the voice from the dining room.

“I’ll go see what he wants?” James offered.

“He certainly didn’t come here to eat,” Harry said, his attempt at a joke failing miserably.

One peak out the door and James’s face fell to the floor. He turned to his boss with a worried frown. “It’s him.”

“Jesus Christ I thought I had seen the last of him.” Visibly upset, Harry stood from his desk and marched out the door to coldly greet his visitor.

“Caldwell, what do you want? I told you I’m not selling,” he hissed, his eyes darting between the haughty businessman and his henchman standing to his left.

“I thought that considering the recent…shall we say…incident you’d want to save your skin before the ship sank.”

“Nobody is sinking. It’s just temporary.”

“That’s what the owners of the prestigious Grand Sablon and of Sweet Almond in Frisco said before they agreed to take me up on my offer to sell. The epidemic is spreading to alarming proportions. I’m just saving these people from bankruptcy.”

“The Good Samaritan, right?” Harry sneered.

“If you wish.”

“I was just wondering something here. You appear to be at the right time at the right place. You mentioned the outbreak in Frisco and now here. It’s one hell of a coincidence, wouldn’t you say?” James pondered on an acrid accusatory tone.

“It’s no coincidence because I made it happen.” Both James and Harry furrowed their brows in suspicion. “I switched the beef,” he confessed proudly.

“You’re liable for all those deaths?” James was appalled.

“You need to break a few eggs in order to make an omelet.”

“Why you….” Harry lunged at the man but his quest to throttle him to death was hindered by the henchman who threw himself in front of his boss.

James came to Harry’s rescue before the encounter turned bloody. “Easy boss. He’s not worth it. We’ll go to the sheriff.”

“With what? It’s your word against mine.” Taking a step forward he cut to the chase, “Munson I’m a patient man but it has its limit. You consider my offer once more and when you’re ready to discuss calmly you can join me in my hotel room.” With a taunting sneer he tipped his hat to the two incensed men and beckoned his henchman to follow him out the door.”

“Boss he’s right. We can’t prove anything. What are we going to do?”

“Leave it to me James. I have an idea how to incriminate him. But first I must ride out to the Barkley ranch and let Nick know what’s happening.”

As a result of the flood of stricken people crashing onto their doorstep, the quinine and carbolic acid supplies were running dangerously low. Eugene sent Silas to the hospital with the hopes the new shipment from San Francisco had arrived while he and his aids scrambled to dole out enough medicine to sustain the ill-fated patients.

“I’ve done all I could for her, Nick.” Eugene said grimly, watching Nick cradle his dying girlfriend in his arms.

“Give her more medicine, dammit!” Nick barked with a booming voice broken by sobs.

“I’ve given her the maximum dosage, Nick. More than the others have had. I’m sorry. It’s up to her to fight it. I can’t do anymore. I’m sorry.” Eugene lowered his head in shame, his heart tearing at the tearful sight before him. Never had he experienced such a feeling of utter hopelessness, which slowly brought about a sense of guilt.

“She can’t die. She just c…” Nick sobbed as he gently rocked his darling Melanie back and forth.

With a heavy heart about to burst and eyes downcast, Eugene rose to his feet and walked away quietly. Outside in the hall he leaned against the wall and slid down to his knees where he heaved out a shuddering breath thick with despair. With tear-glistened eyes he glanced up at the ceiling to implore the O Mighty to put an end to this misery. “Did I fail in my vocation?” he questioned incredulously. “I’m not strong or good enough to save these people, is that it? I should have been a journalist, is that what you’re trying to tell me here? You didn’t have to strike down innocent souls to drill some sense into my head. I would have listened.”

“Dr. Barkley, come quick!” urged one hysterical mother. “It’s my daughter. She can’t breathe!”

Eugene bounced to his feet and dashed down the hall to the turned-children-ward guest-room to attend to the emergency, but it was already too late. He pressed his ear against the little girl’s tiny chest, listening for the tinniest beat as he frantically searched for a pulse. Following a few seconds of sheer agony, Gene bowed to the obvious. He closed his eyes to summon his courage to face the distraught mother standing frozen to the spot, her gaze fastened on her precious child. “I’m sorry Mrs. Pendleton. She’s…” his voice faltered as he felt his courage drained by the terrorized expression staring at him, “she’s dead.”

“No!” The woman screamed, lunging at Eugene to pummel his chest with fists of fury. “No, she can’t be dead! You incompetent bastard!” she lashed out with eyes ablaze with murderous intent.

Gene stood numbed with eyes closed and a hallow chest, making no effort to ward off the stinging blows that he considered due punishment for his sin. He took the strength of two men to pry the woman away from him. She wrenched herself free from their grip and jumped on the bed to hold her lifeless child. “You’re no doctor.”

It took all of the young doctor’s resilience not to break down and scream. He quietly left the room, rushed downstairs and out the door to run as fast and as far as his legs would allow. Exhausted, he crumbled underneath a tree where he curled up and wallowed in self-pity. “I can’t do this. She’s right. I’m no doctor. A real doctor would have saved these people.”

“You’re no miracle worker, son,” offered the friendly voice.

Eugene tilted his head up. “Duke?”

“Yeah. I saw you running like the wind and I thought maybe you needed a friendly shoulder to cry on” He sat by Eugene against the tree and silently watched him stare into nothingness, waiting for him to unburden his grief.

“I just sat there and watched them die. What did I do wrong, heh?” he turned to Duke with an imploring gaze, “Can you tell me what I did wrong?”

“Son, like I said you’re no miracle worker.”

“Aw don’t give me that,” Gene scorned. “I had the medicine. It was just a question of dosing it right. I failed. Six people died, including a seven-year-old girl. She was just a child. I robbed her of her life.”

“So I guess that makes Dr. Merar an incompetent quack as well?” Gene turned to Duke with brows furrowed in puzzlement. “He lost twelve people in all. But unlike you he’s not resting on his butt feeling sorry for himself. He isn’t giving up. And neither should you.” He paused to allow Eugene to absorb it all before leaning closer to the young despondent man. With a hand on his shoulder he willed Eugene’s teary eyes to his. “Audra, Jarrod, Heath and your mother need you to be strong for them. You can’t let them down because of something you had no control over. You are good doctor Gene Barkley. A darn good one. I’ve seen you. I never figured you for a coward. You’re a Barkley and Barkleys stand strong and tall in the face of adversity. You just stick out that chin and square those shoulders, boy. Your job isn’t over yet.”

A grateful smile flickered on Eugene’s lips as a friendly arm wrapped itself around his shoulders. “What would we do without you?”

Back at the farm Nick was plying himself with liquor to dull the pain left by his precious Melanie’s death. Numbed with grief, he stood sluggishly by the fireplace with an arm lazily resting on the mantle, staring vacantly at the amber liquid he twirled in his glass.

He quaffed his third whiskey and walked over to the liquor tray to pour himself a fourth one, hoping to drown the last of his sorrow before heading back upstairs to his family. Once it was down the hatch he picked himself up and made his way to the foyer. Halfway up the stairs a knock at the front door made him retrace his steps.

“Harry?” Nick questioned quizzically.

“Nick, I need to talk to you. It’s urgent!”

“Sure, come on in.”

“Thanks.” Nick closed the door and beckoned Harry to join him in the living room. The restaurant owner didn’t bother with small talk and shot straight to the matter at hand. “I know where the infected beef comes from. I know everything.”

“Suppose you enlighten me, Harry,” Nick spoke crushingly as he suspected the man had come to confess to his crime.

“I’ve been having financial trouble with the restaurant lately and somehow this big-shot businessman heard about my plight and came to me with an alluring proposition. But I was adamant about selling so I flatly turned him down but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He returned a week later saying his offer was still good and even sweetened the pot a little. Still I wouldn’t sell.”

“Go on.” Nick egged on, his eyes narrowing in contempt.

“He switched the beef, Nick. Somehow he broke into the storage room and stole the Barkley meat to replace it with the infected quarts.”

“How do you know that?” Nick asked with an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

“He told me.”

“He told you? I don’t believe it.”

“It’s true, Nick. You’ve got to believe me. And I know how I can make him repeat what he told me.”

“How?”

“I’m supposed to meet him at the hotel to give him my final decision. I’ll pretend to accept his offer providing he explains how he switched the beef. You and the sheriff can listen behind the door.”

Nick sighed, dejection etched on his face as he glanced up the stairs. “I’d hate to leave here. My family is pretty bad off.”

“Please Nick. For all our sakes we need to nail this wacko before he does it again. Besides you wouldn’t want people to think it was your prime Barkley beef that gave everyone anthrax, do you?”

“Of course not!” His pondering was momentarily interrupted by the opening of the front door. “Gene! ‘bout time you got back here!” Nick bellowed angrily. “Where’ve you been?”

“I needed to get away for a spell, Nick.” Eugene explained with eyes imploring his brother not to push the matter further.

“I guess I understand. But you’re back to stay right? ‘Cause I need you here while I go into town with Harry.”

“What for?”

“To nail the varmint that did this to us,” Nick stammered with rage.

Eugene’s deep frown shifted from Nick to Harry. “I don’t follow.”

“We know the source of the infection and it didn’t come from your meat” Harry enlightened the bemused young doctor whose face registered surprise and relief.

“Where did it come from?”

“That’s what I’m on my way to find out.” Nick stammered with rage before marching up to the coat rack by the door to grab his gun belt that he buckled around his waist. After putting on his gloves and Stetson, he stepped up to his little brother and put a friendly hand on his arm. “You take care of those people, Doctor Barkley.” Gene’s heart soared at Nick’s confidence he was entrusting in him; one he believed was washed away with Melanie’s death. “I should be back within the hour.” Gene fashioned a reassuring smile and nodded.

Barely had Eugene regained his composure that a frantic man cried out to him from the banister. “Dr. Barkley, come quick!”

Eugene flew up the stairs, taking the steps two at the time to answer the emergency call. He breezed into the room and froze at the ghastly sight before him.

“Jarrod?!”

“Gene! I’m glad to see you.” Jarrod sighed with relief as he waved his brother closer to Heath’s bed.

“What are you doing up?” the young doctor chastised as he rushed to the patient’s side.

“I was feeling better so I decided to come and see if I could be of some help.” Jarrod explained calmly but feebly while heaving himself off the mattress to vacate his seat for Gene.

“Where’s Elizabeth?” Gene spat angrily. “ She was supposed to watch Heath.”

“She was exhausted so I sent her to my room to get some rest.”

Gene gave Jarrod a cursory once-over and frowned. “You look green about the gill yourself. Please sit down before you fall down.”

Too weak to argue, Jarrod acceded to his brother’s request and flumped down in a nearby chair, all the while keeping his attention fastened on his pallid blond sibling he sensed was at death’s door. “It’s bad, isn’t it?” he ventured to asked, already suspecting Gene’s answer which came in the form of a dejected nod of the head.

“God, where’s Silas with that medicine?” Gene wailed in a desperate plea for Divine intervention before his emotional tether was being stretched to the limit.

After briefing the sheriff in on their clever scheme to nail the crime lord, Harry made his way to the hotel and up the stairs to the man’s room. He waited until Nick and Sheriff Madden were safely out of sight in their place of concealment behind the curtain at the end of the hall before rapping on the door.

“Ahhhhh! Mister Munson,” greeted the man as he opened the door. “Glad to see you. Please, do come in,” he courteously bade his visitor enter with a wave of the hand.

Harry gulped at the sight of the henchman standing by the window with an icy stare and arms crossed in a defiant stance. He inhaled deeply to keep his wits about himself, satisfied at the knowledge of an immediate backup waiting just outside the door should things turn ugly.

“So Mister Munson, have you come to a decision?”

“Yes I did.”

“One I’ll like, I’m sure?” the man crowed with great expectation.

“I do believe so Mister Caldwell. I’ve decided to take you up on your offer.”

“I knew you would eventually come to your senses,” Caldwell exulted, glancing at his henchman who reciprocated with a knowing grin of his own. “I think this calls for a celebration.” Caldwell walked over to the dresser to pour two tumblers of whiskey. He handed one to Harry and clung glasses. “To your good fortune, Mister Munson.” Both men exchanged sneers as they took their first sip.

Caldwell then stepped over to the night table to retrieve the contract from his briefcase. “I have the contract all drawn up. All it needs is your signature.” He tossed the documents on the table and produced an ink pen from his breast pocket that he handed over to Harry. “Before I do sign, I’d like to know how you broke into my storage room to switch the meat.”

“Why do you want to know?” Caldwell asked suspiciously.

“So I can make sure it won’t ever happen again,” Harry sneered, striving to muzzle his anger about to burst.

Outside in the hall, with their ears pressed against the door, Nick and Sheriff Madden hung on every word spoken by the businessman. His confession to the crime raised Nick’s hackle to the point that he kicked the door open and lunged at Caldwell to pin him to the wall. “You murderer!” he gnashed, stewing in his own juice. The sheriff grabbed his wrist as he prepared to connect a powerful fist with Caldwell’s jaw.

“Nick!” warned the sheriff. “Don’t. He’ll get what’s coming to him,” Madden pacified, slowly releasing Nick’s arm he felt was slacking underneath his fingers. Nick briefly looked away to clench his fist and in a flash swung round to punch the man in the guts. Caldwell yelped in pain and doubled over on the floor, panting.

“If justice doesn’t give you the noose, I will,” Nick threatened before storming out of the room with Harry hot on his heels.

“Nick! Nick! Harry hailed as he tried to catch up to the flying arrow shooting down the stairs. “Nick, stop.”

Nick finally halted his course and sighed heavily, “Harry, I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

“It’s okay Nick. I’m just glad it’s over and that we know you’re not responsible for poisoning those people.”

“It’s far from being over, Harry. People are still dying, including my own family.” The slight quiver in Nick’s voice warned Harry to let the matter rest until the epidemic was completely contained. He put a friendly arm on Nick’s shoulder and smiled obligingly. “If there’s anything I can do.”

“You already have. You go with the sheriff. I need to see to my family.”

“Alright Nick. My prayers are with you.”

“Thanks. I need them.” On this light-hearted note, Nick hurried out of the hotel and swung on his horse’s back to kick him at full tilt towards the ranch.

He arrived to a most disturbing sight. He quickly slid off his mount and cautiously approached his young brother weeping on the front porch. “Gene, what’s wrong?”

“I just had to let it out, Nick. I’m so exhausted,” Gene choked out between sobs.

“Everyone alright?” Nick asked worriedly, taking fright at the sound of Gene’s heavy-laden sigh. “Gene? Is Heath…” Gene’s eyes closed at the name, sending Nick’s panic level through the roof. He slammed the door open and rushed up the stairs to Heath’s room.

“Hey brother,” the weak voice greeted.

“Heath!” Nick exulted “You okay?”

“I’m getting there,” he gulped, nodding to Jarrod to give him more water.

Nick approached the bed and stared wide-eyed at Jarrod he saw assisting Heath drink a sip of water. “Jarrod, you’re up!” Nick marveled. “I…this is a miracle.”

“You can thank your little brother for that,” Jarrod said gratefully, motioning to the door where Eugene was standing. “He saved us all.”

“It’s a blessing Silas returned with the load of medicine when he did,” Gene said as he tiredly shuffled up to the bed. “It was close. Too close.”

“How Audra?”

“She’s with mother,” Jarrod informed. “ both taking care of each other.”

“Then they’re okay too?”

Jarrod fashioned a tired smile and nodded. “I’m sorry about Melanie,” he said gloomily.

Nick hung his head and sighed heavily. “So am I,” he breathed out in a choked whisper. He quickly regained his composure and flashed a bright beaming smile at his two brothers who battle the evil and won. “The good news is we caught the guy that switched the beef at the Catllemen’s.”

“What?” Jarrod exclaimed in puzzlement. “What are you talking about?”

“It wasn’t our meat that was infected with anthrax like everyone thought. This hot shot businessman wanted Harry’s business, so by poisoning everyone he knew the owner would have no choice but to sell seeing how his establishment would be barren of customers.”

“Do you know the man?” Heath asked feebly.

“I didn’t catch his name. I was to busy beating the life out of him.” Nick noticed his brothers exchanging glances. “Don’t worry, he’s still alive and enjoying the nice hospitality of Fred’s jail. Once word gets out that he orchestrated the scheme, Harry will get his business back on track and people won’t be stoning the Barkleys anymore.”

“And you Nick? How come you didn’t contract the disease?” Jarrod queried.

“Gene here explained something about an incubation period?” Nick’s brows furrowed inquisitively at Gene.

“From twelve hours to twelve days depending on a body’s metabolism,” Gene explained. “He could still have come down with it hadn’t been for the medication.”

“It’s a good thing you didn’t come down with it while you were in Elko.”

“What about you Gene? How’s our miracle worker holding up?” Jarrod asked with a grateful smile.

“Miracle worker I’m not,” Gene corrected amicably. “Or I would have saved everyone. But I will say that this has been an exhausting experience that I hope never to live through again, at least not among my family. The emotional strain is unbearable.”

Nick wrapped an arm around his little brother’s shoulders. “Amen to that.”

Days later, families and friends tended to the gut-wrenching task of burying the dead. One funeral service didn’t wait the other as the bereaved bade a final farewell to their loved ones who parted from the life far too soon. Thankfully the Barkleys were no longer at the receiving end of the scorching stares and waspish remarks that the outbreak had brought upon them.

Weeks passed with more patients leaving the Heath Barkley Hospital. Jarrod invited his secretary to spend her convalescence out at the ranch, an offer she couldn’t and would not refuse. She looked forward to get better acquainted with Jarrod Barkley, the man, as opposed of Jarrod Barkley, Attorney at Law. Thought they were similarities between the two personalities, she preferred the former to the latter. She held high hopes that a romance would blossom before the end of her stay at the ranch.

Victoria, Audra and Heath made remarkable progress in their recovery, following their own personal family doctor’s instructions to the letter. Dr. Merar marveled at Eugene’s gift to convince Heath, of all people, to remain in bed for a week.

Caldwell and his associates were sentenced to life imprisonment on charges of voluntary manslaughter, a case that Jarrod ferociously defended so there’d be no mercy on the insolent man who showed no remorse whatsoever.

Patrons came flooding back to the Cattlemen’s once the news of a new locked cellar was installed to avoid a repetition of the last incident that cost so many lives. As for the Heath Barkley Ward, it numbered only one patient, an expectant mother who gave Drs. Barkley and Merar a run for their money with a multiple birth. They scrambled to save each of the four frail baby boys that were later baptized after the miracle workers, Eugene and Thomas for Eugene Thomas Barkley and Howard and Theodore, for Howard Theodore Merar.