Becoming Brothers

Chapters 1-8

by Redwood

Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the TV program "Big Valley" are the creations of Four Star/Republic Pictures and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended by the author. The ideas expressed in this story are copyrighted to the author.

This story is a sequel to “Flashes of Light,” which tells of an alternate arrival for Heath. The family is made up of the typical characters, except for the fact that Eugene does not exist.

Chapter 1

The man in the bed woke to a throbbing headache. He heard a soft murmuring voice in the background, but his brain couldn’t quite connect any face he knew with the sweet sound.

He also heard a long, low groaning noise that somehow seemed disconnected, close, but unidentifiable. Then, after a few more seconds, he realized the guttural moan he had heard was his own.

“Look, Doctor! I think he’s coming around.” The sweet, relieved voice was becoming more familiar.

He blinked his eyes open and saw the auburn waves of hair and the deep green eyes of his wife, his Emma, smiling down at him.

John Ashton struggled to sit up, questions in his eyes.

“Just relax, John, you’re not going anywhere for a while. You’ve been sick, Honey, and you’ve been here in this bed for days. Don’t try to get up yet,” she soothed.

“Where are we?” the slightly confused man asked. “This isn’t our house.”

“No, it isn’t, John. How do you feel?” the doctor wanted to know.

“Well, . . . I have a hole in my stomach with no food in it, and my eyes don’t seem to want to stay open. Where is this place?” John asked, his frustration mounting.

Again, he struggled to sit up, but was pushed gently back down in the bed.

“John, we’re still at the hotel in Sacramento. We never left. You came down with pneumonia several days ago. I knew that cold you’d been fighting for the last two weeks was not getting any better!” Emma took hold of his hand and added, “We should never have left home to make that trip here.”

Emma shook her head and sighed, smiling down at this man that she had loved so much for so many years.

He reached over and took her hand.

“I just worry about you, John. You really had me scared this time!”

“But, I’m okay, now. Right? Thanks to your good care.”

“Well, let’s find out, shall we? Doctor, how long will it be before I can take him home?” she asked hopefully.

Doctor Shuford scratched the back of his head and said, “Maybe two days, Mrs. Ashton. The worst is definitely behind him, but I’ll come back this afternoon to check him again. You just keep him lying down in that bed for the rest of the morning. Maybe he’ll feel ready for sitting up some this afternoon and for some easy walking around on this floor of the hotel by tomorrow.” He gathered up his supplies and repacked his bag. Patting her hand, he said, “I’ll see myself out.”

“Emma,” the Sheriff of Markleeville asked quietly from the bed, “What day is it?”

“Wednesday, John. I know, I know,” she answered the questions in his eyes, “We’ve been gone almost six days, and you are worried about how Shawn is doing. I’m sure everything is fine at home. You just rest; I’ll be back in a few minutes with your breakfast.”

As he lay on the bed watching the pale yellow curtains dancing gently in the soft morning breeze, he continued to worry. He worried about his deputy, Shawn Mills, the improvements that should have started on their jail two days ago, and the progress of the on-going investigation into the Lansings’ murders.

Suddenly, in the back of his mind, a picture appeared of a brash, young, blue-eyed cowboy with a determined stance going off to follow a ruthless gang of marauding murderers. He worried about what had become of Heath Thomson. As he lay there, he wondered if Heath had been able to successfully involve himself with the mustangers again as he tried to either find evidence against them or prove their innocence in the deaths of the four Lansing family members.

Most of all, he wondered if the young man was alright. “Well,” he assured himself silently, “I’ll just have to talk Emma into leaving me long enough to send a wire to Shawn after breakfast. Maybe he has heard from Heath.”

* * * * * * * *

“Boy Howdy, ya just keep windin’ up back in this big ol’ fancy bed, don’t ya?” Heath thought to himself when he finally managed to open his eyes enough to focus on his surroundings. “A body’d think ya planned to stake a claim here like some crazy miner comin’ back to the very same diggin’s every year after the spring thaws.”

While he managed to move his eyes around the room, he wasn’t quite ready to attempt moving his whole head. Something told him that if he did, he’d be wishing for a bucket. Instead, he lay very still, trying to figure out what time it was and who else might be nearby.

Judging from the rose-tinged light barely peeking in through the open window, he would say it was close to sunrise, but sunrise of which day, he couldn’t be sure. The soft sounds he could occasionally hear coming from the stable yard he knew to be outside that window reinforced his accuracy about the time.

However, hearing anything from outside was extremely difficult. Another, closer sound, with its variation from gentle vibrations to growling crescendos, was continually threatening to cover up all the others. Someone, on the other side of the bed that he couldn’t quite see, was snoring fiercely. The sound cut into the early morning quiet like a two-handled saw shared by a pair of determined lumberjacks as they sliced through a huge spruce trunk high on a northerly slope.

Keeping his throbbing head as still as possible, Heath Thomson attempted to raise his left shoulder and roll toward his right side without making a sound. Partially successful, in that he ended up facing the chair pulled up next to the right side of the bed, he was able to muffle most of the soft moan that worked its way out from deep inside him. For a long moment, he thought he would be needing that bucket after all. But, with the right side of his head pressed firmly into the pillow and his eyes squeezed shut, he managed to quell the uncomfortable feeling before it became an undeniably uncomfortable fact.

When the wave of dizziness and nausea passed, he pried his eyelids open and focused on taking in the view from this vantage point. With a lop-sided grin, he realized that the larger-than-life image that filled his vision perfectly matched the thunderous noises that assailed his ears.

“It had ta be you, Barkley!” Heath chuckled silently to himself. “No one else could possibly be makin’ that kind’a racket without help from a fully stoked steam engine!”

Watching, and listening, to the man sleep, his large frame sprawled out in the high-backed leather chair and his sock feet spread across the lower half of the bed, Heath felt a tightening inside his gut that he couldn’t associate with the constant ache of his left side. What was this great bear of a man doing here instead of in his own room, sleeping comfortably in his own bed? How long had he been here? And why did Heath get the feeling that the unshaven man had camped out in that chair, in this room, for far too many hours?

Suddenly, the snoring came to an abrupt halt. The large hands came up to scrub across the still closed eyes and the work-worn fingers pushed roughly through the dark, disheveled hair. Slowly, the feet left the bed and the shoulders came forward; the sleep-filled head rested on the hands, now propped up on elbows and knees. Finally, the heavy head came up and the bleary, hazel eyes opened a crack.

Looking around, Nick Barkley found himself staring into the eyes of the man on the bed in front of him, the man with eyes the color of the bright afternoon sky, the man with eyes that were the same color as their father’s eyes.

“Boy Howdy, Barkley, with all these rooms in this huge house, it seems that someone would’a found ya a room’a your own long ago!” Heath drawled without cracking a smile. “Did ya get so used ta followin’ me through the woods, ya lost your way without me ta show ya?”

His words referred to their recent run through the woods to locate Audra Barkley and to rescue her from the gang that had kidnapped her.

“Hell, Boy,” Nick responded gruffly, with his smile breaking through to give him away, “I just came in here to make sure you didn’t leave without returning my rifle! I never could trust anyone who gets caught lying down on the job as much as you do!”

At Heath’s lop-sided grin, Nick reached over and, carefully avoiding the bandage wrapped around the injured head, ran his fingers once through the no longer mud-caked, blond hair. Inquiring softly, he asked, “How’s the head?”

“Still attached,” Heath responded. “I don’t pretend ta remember everythin’ that happened after Turk tried ta beat me inta little pieces’a gravel by that rock, . . .” He paused and took a breath, “But I know ya stopped him ‘cause I remember your louder- than-any-gunshot yell, just before he quit poundin’ on me.”

As Nick watched, he saw the pale blue eyes take on a shining light that grew in intensity as Heath extended his shaky left hand across the space separating them. “Thanks, Barkley,” he said quietly.

Grasping the forearm and feeling the fingers close around his own, Nick choked out, “Heath, . . . I didn’t think I was going to get to you in time.”

Then, wanting desperately to look away, look down, look out the window, or look anywhere but into those blue eyes, Nick’s gaze finally remained locked in place as he added, “After I fired at Turk, I thought I had shot you, too; . . . I saw you fall.”

Nodding at Heath in acknowledgement of the strong emotions silently shared, Nick used their mutual hold to ease the injured man onto his back. Now that he had succeeded in breaking the hold those eyes had on him, he turned his attention with great interest to the toes of his socks.

Staring down, but still grasping Heath’s arm, he said, “I was so relieved to see you looking up at me when I got to you and turned you over, there in front of that rock, . . .”

Then he released Heath’s arm and used the same hand to gently tap him twice on the right shoulder.

Rising from the chair, he stalked to the dresser to retrieve a fresh glass of water. Returning, he lifted Heath’s shoulders carefully from the bed and held him up while helping him drink from the glass. This time, Heath nodded, and looking straight into Nick’s eyes, he poured his heart into two simple words, “Thanks, Nick.”

Chapter 2

Sheriff Liam Forrest hated the thought of facing Jarrod and Nick. The last time he had seen them, they were taking the injured man called Heath home with them to recuperate from their ordeal with the marauders.

And to make it all worse, when they had left with him, they had been calling him “brother.”

While Liam couldn’t figure all that out, he knew he had admitted to Jarrod that he was wrong about Heath. He had assured the lawyer that from all that had happened he realized Heath was on their side, not on the side of the gang of raiders.

Now, here he was, headed out to the ranch to cast doubt on the whole issue again. “Maybe,” Liam thought to himself, “I’d better plan to take a long vacation after this and hide out with my fishing pole for a while so Nick can cool down!” He remembered the look in Nick’s eyes yesterday as he had glared at him, challenging him to disagree, by telling him that Heath was his brother and that he was taking him home.

As his horse continued on course to carry him to the Barkley Ranch, Sheriff Forrest felt an uncomfortable pang of guilt twisting away inside him. He could just hear the lawyer in Jarrod making his case for the accused and Nick ranting about how Liam had better have a good reason for dragging it all back up again less than a day later.

“That Nick!” he thought, “That’s one man I don’t want mad at me! He was acting as protective of that fella as a she-bear towering over a cub cornered by a pack of baying hounds. And, in his eyes, I know I was looking suspiciously like one of the hounds!”

Too soon, he arrived at the front door. With an audible sigh, he quickly removed his hat and knocked resolutely.

When Victoria Barkley opened the door, the shock on her face, and the underlying anger at the intrusion so soon after their ordeal, was quickly replaced by impeccable manners that smoothed the initial awkwardness of his entrance.

“Liam!” she said, “How nice to see you! Do come in.” As she showed him into the sitting area and immediately poured him a whiskey, she added, “I had planned to drop by your office in the next few days to tell you how much we all appreciate your assistance in returning both Audra and Heath to us safely.”

Her use of both names was not lost on the sheriff. “Mrs. Barkley, I want you to know how pleased I am that your daughter was released unharmed.” The sheriff responded, wincing at what he knew was coming, “But, I need for you to know that. . . “

Holding up her hand to cut him off, she countered, “Oh, I think there was much more to it than a simple release, don’t you?” She looked into his sad brown eyes with her intense grey ones as she stood before him, waiting.

He never got to finish. Just as he started to speak, Nick and Jarrod entered from behind him.

Reaching out for Liam’s hand as he came around to face him, Jarrod said, “So, Liam, did you come so soon to talk things out? Or is there another reason for this visit?”

Sheriff Forrest glanced at the dark-haired, hazel-eyed figure now leaning with arms crossed and watching him in silence from in front of the fireplace. Then, he returned the firm handshake offered to him by Jarrod.

Looking back at Victoria, he replied. “Is Heath Thomson here, Ma’am?”

With eyes flashing, as she started to say something about him being Heath Barkley, she changed her mind and nodded, “Yes, Heath is here. Why do you ask?”

Swallowing hard and feeling like he was on the outside of a tightly wrapped circle of wagons being readied for an attack from hostile forces, the sheriff said, “Well, Ma’am, I came to take him in for questioning in the deaths of a family over in Markleeville last month.”

It was all the sheriff could do not to duck and run for cover when the wagoneers returned fire!

“LIAM, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?” Nick demanded.

Jarrod cried, “Sheriff, after what happened out there yesterday, how can you even think that he could do something like that?”

Even Victoria replied, “Sheriff, you must have the wrong man!”

So intent on each other and the shock they all felt, at either the audacity of the implication or the ferocity of the defense, none of the four occupants of the room saw the bandaged, weary figure making his way slowly down the stairs toward them.

Jarrod tried again, “Liam, you know what you saw out there yesterday. Where did you get your information? From those raiders you’re holding in your jail?”

Victoria offered, “Sheriff, you can’t expect us to believe that he could murder someone, certainly not a family? He saved my daughter’s life, and probably Nick’s life as well. There must be some mistake!”

As the blond reached the end of the banister and began making halting, but determined, progress toward them, Nick spotted him and cried, “Heath!”

Striding forward, he reached the injured man and ducked under his right arm to allow his broad shoulders to support the sagging frame. He assisted Heath the few additional steps into the room and eased him into a chair.

While Heath closed his eyes, held his left side, and caught his breath, Victoria said sensibly, “Sheriff, if you must ask him some questions, ask them here. Surely you can see he’s in no shape to go anywhere with you right now.”

Taking the water glass offered to her by Jarrod, she held it out to Heath as soon as she saw his eyes open again.

After taking a swallow and leaning his head back against the chair, he said quietly, “I’ll go with you, Sheriff. Just give me a minute.”

“NO!” Nick bellowed, pushing himself away from the mantle where he was hovering nearby.

Heath’s head came up and so did one hand. “Nick, Mrs. Barkley, Jarrod, I appreciate your concern. . . . Your support means more ta me. . . than you’ll ever know. . . .But, I need ta get all this cleared up.”

“Heath, he can ask you any questions right here, right now, if that’s what he needs to do!” Nick practically shouted.

“No, Nick,” Heath started, but stopped again to allow his breathing to catch up.

Before he could continue, Jarrod added, “Unfortunately, Nick, Heath is right. If he is a suspect, Sheriff Forrest has to conduct his interview in his office or he could be seen later as giving favoritism to a Barkley.” Jarrod looked away from Nick and stared straight into Heath’s eyes as he made the last statement.

Heath, his pain-filled blue eyes staring back, nodded once at Jarrod. Victoria caught her gasp in her throat when he flashed his oh-so-familiar, lop-sided smile at Jarrod.

“Sheriff, I’ll be going along with my brother as his lawyer,” Jarrod said with certainty, still looking directly into Heath’s eyes. Another nod from the younger man in the chair let him know both his offer and his statement were accepted as fact.

“And, I’ll be accompanying them both,” Nick added, his hazel eyes flashing at the sheriff. His tone dared Liam to disagree, just as he had less than twenty-four hours ago in the woods near the marauder’s camp.

“Fine, Nick, Jarrod,” the sheriff said, heading to the door. “Let’s get a move on, then.”

But the sheriff had not reckoned with the diminutive figure clad in pale blue muslin. “No!” Victoria Barkley stood protectively in front of Heath as she glared at the sheriff who had turned to look at her from behind Heath’s chair.

Everyone in the room froze.

“Heath, you don’t have to go anywhere right this minute.” She looked down at his puzzled expression, and she put one hand on his arm. Looking back at Liam Forrest, she said again, “He’s in no shape to ride. I won’t have you putting his life in danger in some misguided attempt at doing your duty! He’s not going anywhere right now.”

Taking a deep breath, and with her eyes flashing fire, she allowed her anger to be unleashed on the sheriff. “This man has done nothing wrong, and he deserves the respect and the gratitude of everyone here. Liam, Jarrod told me last night how you almost shot Heath, thinking he was going after Nick. Instead, Nick and Heath both shot the man who was really about to gun you down out there in the woods. Do you seriously believe he could have murdered anyone? Do you really want to put him, the man that saved your life, at risk now by making him ride with you to the jail when he can barely walk across the room on his own?”

Before she could continue, she felt Heath’s hand cover her small one, as it rested lightly on his other arm. She looked down into the sky blue eyes that, though they contained almost successfully concealed pain, were shining up at her with glowing pride and . . . and what she recognized as the beginnings of a love that had the power to tear at her heart.

He squeezed her hand, and she returned the pressure, her voice catching as she finished her say. “Do you really expect me to stand by while you cause my son more pain than he’s already in. . . ?”

She stopped as he pushed himself to his feet in front of her. Wrapping one arm around him as he carefully turned around to face the sheriff, Victoria looked up into his face. He leaned down, kissed her cheek softly, and said for her ears only, “Thank you.” As he straightened back up, she could feel him falter slightly. She tightened her arm and leaned into him a little to offer more solid physical support.

“Sheriff,” Heath spoke quietly with no noticeable drawl, but with obvious difficulty, “If you’ll trust these two gentlemen. . . ta deliver me ta your jail tomorrow mornin’, . . .I’d appreciate the chance ta rest a little more . . . before I make that ride.” He paused for breath, before continuing. “I’m not in the habit. . . of breakin’ any promise. . . I’ve ever made.”

Not really sure how much he believed the stories those men in his jail were spreading anyway, Liam gave in. “Will you give me your word that you’ll come in of your own accord tomorrow morning, then? And the rest of you will vouch. . . ?”

Narrowing his eyes and staring straight at Liam Forrest, Heath interrupted, “I just did.”

The grin that flashed across Nick’s face and the raised eyebrow that highlighted Jarrod’s were enough to keep the sheriff from finishing his second question or any other. Instead, he nodded. Looking back at Victoria, he said, “Ma’am,” and placed his hat on his head as he headed for the door.

As soon as Silas, who had been standing in the doorway from the dining room, closed the door behind the sheriff, Victoria and Nick turned their attention to Heath.

“Come on, Heath. Let’s get you back up into that bed, Boy!” Nick said, trying to break the tension left behind in the sheriff’s wake. He took two strides to stand on the opposite side of Heath from where Victoria still stood.

Heath started shaking his head, then closed his eyes, and just said, “Please, . . . could I just. . . lie down right here?” Then, he added, “No more stairs, Nick.”

Nick nodded, but realized Heath wasn’t looking at him. Nick met Victoria’s eyes and she glanced behind them. “Yes, Heath,” she said. “Here, we’ll help you.” With Nick doing most of the work, they turned him, and helped him stretch out on the gray silk settee behind them.

Chapter 3

The rest of the morning was a quiet one. Audra, Victoria, Jarrod, Silas, and Nick took turns sitting nearby while Heath slept. He didn’t seem to feel like talking, even when he opened his eyes, so the others contented themselves with just being close by in case he needed them.

The only time he had really talked to any of them was for just a moment when Nick was about to leave to go check on a work crew.

“Nick?” Heath asked hesitantly, as he lay on his side with his back to the room. Nick paused in the open doorway and turned toward the sitting room.

“Audra,” Nick asked of his sister, who was sitting across from the man they had both thought was sleeping. “Was he talking to me?”

“Yes, Nick. He called your name,” she replied.

Nick walked around the settee and put one gloved hand on the blond’s left shoulder. “Heath? I’m here.”

Without turning his head or opening his eyes to the onslaught of bright light in the room, Heath said, “Have ya heard anythin’ said ‘bout Garner’s remuda?”

Surprised, Nick answered, “No, I haven’t, Heath. Why do you ask?” Then, with sudden understanding, he queried, “Your Modoc? Is she mixed in with them?”

“Yeah, at least she was,” the tired, too-quiet voice replied.

“I’ll see what I can find out.” As he turned to walk away after patting the shoulder once more, Nick stopped, “Uh, Heath. How did you know that was me leaving, anyway?”

Heath’s sleepy mumble barely made it to Nick’s ears, “Ya found those jingly spurs again, didn’t ya?”

With a broad smile on his face as he glanced at Audra’s smirk, he said, “Yeah, Heath, I found ‘em, and I didn’t need you as a guide through the woods to help me locate ‘em either!”

* * * * * * * *

When the doctor came by in the late afternoon, he was surprised to see his patient downstairs. After a thorough examination of Heath’s chest, side, and back, as well as the two head wounds, he talked him into drinking something to help with the headaches. Watching the blue eyes close again and checking his pulse one more time, he looked up at the concerned faces around him.

“Silas, could you stay with him for a little while? I’d like to talk with the rest of you. Is there somewhere quiet we could go?” the doctor asked.

With Victoria leading the way to the study, they anxiously entered and turned to the doctor. She voiced their concerns immediately, “Howard, is he going to be alright?”

Holding up his hand, Doctor Howard Merar took in the anxious faces. “The short answer is yes, Victoria. But, could everyone just please sit down? I think we need to talk through a couple of things that do have me concerned.”

Everyone except Nick headed for a chair. He continued to stand by the mantle. While he knew they probably attributed his reluctance to his generally restless nature, he knew inside his heart that he didn’t want to sit in any of the chairs because they all had a good view of the fireplace. He wasn’t sure if he was quite ready to look up at his father’s picture hanging there above the mantle.

The last time he had stood in this room had been the moment he had learned that Heath was his brother. Somewhere deep inside was a growing, nameless anger. He wasn’t sure where or how to direct it. And, he wasn’t sure he was ready to take on Tom Barkley’s gaze just yet.

With all eyes on him, Dr. Merar addressed himself to Victoria. “I know none of you have had a chance to go into Stockton lately with all that has happened. I’m not trying to get into your family business, but I think you need to know what is being said. Forgive me for being blunt. There is a rumor going around in town that that boy in there is your husband’s son.”

Seeing the looks on the faces before him, he knew he was about to be interrupted, so he held up his hand. “Please, let me finish. There are other rumors, too. Some are saying he saved Audra, that he saved Jamie Drumm and his son. But, the one that has me the most worried is the rumor that I heard this morning, that he is a suspect in a murder investigation over in Markleeville.”

Watching them, he saw Jarrod’s head nod back at him. Audra’s eyes were huge, Nick had started pacing, and Victoria’s eyes were locked on the picture hanging over the mantle.

“Doc, please, tell us how Heath is!” Nick growled, his angry face unmistakable.

“Nicholas,” Victoria admonished. She knew Dr. Merar was speaking out of concern for them and for his patient; he was no vicious busybody. “Let the doctor finish. I’m sure he will get to that.”

“Thank you, Victoria. That boy in there doesn’t need any more problems right now.”

Nick interrupted again, “I thought you said last night, and again just now, that he is going to be alright!”

“I did, Nick, and I am pretty sure he will be. But, he doesn’t seem to be getting a chance to recuperate the way I outlined for you last night. When I came here this afternoon, he was downstairs. Yes, he was asleep when I first arrived, but that’s just not good enough. He needs to stay in a bed, not walking, or even being carried up and down steps. I’ll say it again, he needs at least three days of bed rest, and at least three more of quiet movement, confined to this house. No work, no riding, no lifting, no excitement. He doesn’t need any activity that will tax his lungs or aggravate his injuries.”

Tapping his fingers on the side table as he spoke, the doctor said, “Those old scars, the ones on his back, . . . I just don’t know.” After a pause in which everyone watching knew he was thinking hard, the doctor continued. “There’s something there when I listen to his lungs. He doesn’t have pneumonia yet, but I . . . I just don’t know for sure.”

Seeing the concern his words were creating, he took a deep breath. “What do you know of his background, the kind of life he’s had?”

“Very little, Doc, well almost nothing really,” Jarrod spoke up. The others remained silent, but were clearly distressed.

“Well, let’s just say that he is a bit of a puzzle to me. Though he has the musculature to show that he is clearly used to hard physical labor and is obviously a very strong young man, he seems generally to not be in the best of shape on the inside. It’s almost as though he’s been starved somewhere along the way, like he has spent lots of time inside damp places where the air wasn’t very good. I’m afraid he is probably always going to be somewhat susceptible to problems with his lungs.”

Looking up at them, he said, “But, I know one thing from examining him. He has not had an easy life. Just the fact that he has survived to this point is a testament to how tough he is, what a will to live, to survive, he has. I think he’ll pull through this just fine, but only if he has time to heal.”

As he stood to leave, Jarrod asked, “Doc, please wait a minute.”

Dr. Merar sat back down.

“We appreciate you for bringing the rumors to our attention, very much so.” Jarrod continued, “You’re right in that we haven’t been aware of things in town for several days now. Sheriff Forrest has come out to see us about the Markleeville information. He wanted to take Heath in to the jail today for questioning, but we talked him into waiting until the morning. Would he listen to you if you recommended that Heath not come into town right now?”

Thinking about it, the doctor sadly shook his head. “Probably, under normal circumstances, he would. But, I am very concerned about the last rumor I mentioned, because I have heard rumblings that folks feel Heath should be brought in immediately. People are saying you are protecting him and wondering why. That’s fueling the rumor about his relationship to your father, by the way. I have tried to let it be known that he is injured and that you are taking care of him until he can be safely moved.”

Pausing to find the words to define the mood in Stockton, he continued, “But, you must know, some folks will probably continue to think he must be part of that gang. They won’t understand why he’s not in jail with the others. And, from some comments I have heard on the street, at least a few are very angry, especially about Harry Coleman’s murder and this new rumor of Heath’s involvement in the murders in Markleeville.”

Nick interrupted as his angry pacing continued, “Doc! That boy almost brought that gang to their knees single-handedly! Why can’t the sheriff just tell them that! And what business is it of everyone else’s anyway?”

“Nick,” Jarrod said, “Can’t you see? It is not the doctor that has to be convinced! Until Liam brings Heath in, questions him, and puts this to rest officially, it is not going to go away!”

“But, Jarrod! You know he didn’t have anything to do with any of that!” Nick hollered.

Thinking quietly, Victoria held up her hand to stop Nick’s anger from completely exploding, “Nick, as long as there is a doubt about any of it, either about what happened here or in Markleeville, there will be people who continue to put him on the wrong side of the law.”

Nodding, the doctor added, “I think you’re right, and as long as there are people talking angrily, I’m afraid the sheriff will feel pressured to bring him in. Probably nothing I can say is going to slow Liam down from doing so, and he might be right. It might actually be better in the long run if it gets settled as soon as possible. I just think you need to take precautions to protect Heath from further injury when it happens.”

Victoria spoke again, “Howard, you have been a friend of this family’s for many years. What you keep referring to as a rumor about Heath’s relationship with my husband is truth. Heath is Tom Barkley’s son. All of us have just discovered this fact in the last two days. I would appreciate you conveying this information to people as you see fit. He is a fine young man, and I will be very pleased if he decides to stay with us.”

The lump in her throat forced her to stop, and her eyes returned to the picture over the mantle.

“I will, Victoria. Thank you for trusting me with this information. Does the sheriff know?”

Jarrod and Nick looked at each other questioning silently with their eyes and trying to remember if either of them had said anything to Liam. Suddenly, Nick said, “Yes, I think so, Doc. I seem to remember shouting it to everyone around when we found him alive near Garner’s camp.”

Audra spoke up, “You told him, too, Jarrod. Do you remember?” Her brother’s puzzled look answered her question. “When you shouted for the sheriff to come with you further into the woods yesterday, you told him your brothers were in there!”

Jarrod looked at her, a slow smile building. “I did say that, didn’t I. Well, I’ll be da. . . . Sorry, Mother. Yes, I did. Thanks, Little Sister, for pointing that out to me.”

“Yes, Howard, he knows,” added Victoria, her pride in all of her children shining from her eyes, “I told him in no uncertain terms this morning that Heath is my son. In fact, it seems that he has heard it several times, now.”

“Victoria,” the doctor began again. “If the sheriff insists that Heath be moved tomorrow, try to get him to delay until the late afternoon. Every hour he has to recover will add to his strength. If Liam won’t wait, insist on someone driving Heath in. He doesn’t need to be on a horse with his side and his head in the condition they are. Like I said last night, he doesn’t have any broken bones or ribs. But, if something happens that would normally be minor, it could be dangerous.”

Pausing to emphasize his point, he added, “Any more trauma to his body or head could be life-threatening at this point. It could result in internal bleeding that we can’t stop. And it wouldn’t take much. With his head injuries, he may have lapses of consciousness and severe dizziness. He doesn’t need a fall from a horse due to a dizzy spell to lead to more problems.”

He looked around the room at the worried faces. Then, as they nodded their understanding, he stood to leave the room. Jarrod spoke up, “Doc, if you don’t mind, I’ll ride into town with you. I need to check on a telegram. Just give me a moment; I’ll be right back.”

As the others reached the door to the study, Victoria turned back to the doctor. Laying her hand on his arm, she said, “Howard, how are the Drumm’s?”

He nodded his head and said, “Better. Jamie is doing very well. The bullet that hit him didn’t do any lasting damage, and Nell is feeling much stronger after the shock. Even little Justin seems to be back to his old chatterbox self, though he does stick close to his Pa. Oh, Nick, that reminds me. Justin did say something about you when I was out there earlier today.”

Nick’s eyes, eyes that had been staring at the floor as his mind was mulling over how best to keep Heath safe, came up and locked with those of the kindly, old doctor. Clapping Nick on the shoulder, Howard Merar said, “Justin excitedly told me that he had finally seen someone else who could ride and shoot as well as you! I guess you’d better figure out who he was talking about so you can study your new competition and keep your edge!”

He turned to the door, but caught the look that passed between the family members standing beside him. “What? Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry, Nick, I didn’t mean. . . .” But, Nick’s smile was enough to reassure him. However, the doctor didn’t miss the pained expression the smile didn’t completely hide in the hazel eyes.

Victoria rescued the doctor from his confusion. “Come on, Howard, I’ll walk you to your buggy.” Taking him by the arm, she steered him outside. As he turned back to her once they both exited the front door, she said, “Howard, I appreciate the caring words to my family. We needed to hear the situation from someone we trust as a true friend. We are in your debt.”

“Victoria, what I said to Nick, I just meant . . . ,” he started.

“It’s okay, Howard.” She smiled and said, “You couldn’t know. The man that Justin must have been referring to was Heath, your patient, and the man Nick has just recently learned is his brother.”

Nodding now in instant comprehension at the smile and the anguish he had seen in Nick’s eyes, he patted Victoria’s hand on his arm and said, “I’ll be back in the morning around 10:00 to check on Heath. I’ll be glad for him to ride into town with me if you can at least hold the sheriff off until then.”

As Jarrod came from around the side of the house on his horse, Victoria squeezed the doctor’s arm. A grateful mother’s smile from the bottom of her heart gracing her face, Victoria said, “Thank you, Howard, thank you so much.”

Chapter 4

Jarrod could feel the eyes of various townsfolk on him as soon as he turned onto the main street. Several people stopped and stared. Others pointed and started talking among themselves, watching as he passed. Never one to pay much attention to the idle gossip and open stares of others, he nevertheless admitted to himself that it was still slightly disconcerting.

Waving to the doctor as they parted, he rode his horse to his office. Once inside, he made use of the quiet to concentrate on what he wanted to find out in his wires. It still puzzled him as to why he, nor apparently the sheriff, had never heard any more from the law in Markleeville.

Even before the attempted raid on the Davis’ Ranch, they had wired other towns in the area hoping to find out if they had had trouble from marauders. They had learned that Markleeville had and that the mustangers had indeed been in the area, as well. However, when they tried later to find out if the sheriff there had any idea who could have warned the Barkleys about the attack and helped to prevent it, they had never received a reply. In the meantime, with all that had happened, Jarrod had not had time to send another wire.

Now, though, it was rapidly becoming critical that they determine if the sheriff there knew anything about the man called Heath Thomson. Thinking carefully, Jarrod wrote out the wire to renew the process of getting them some much-needed answers.

Then, after a moment’s hesitation, he wrote another wire. He hated to follow-through on this idea, believing it to be a drastic step, but he knew the time may come in the next few weeks when he would have to defend the man he now knew to be his brother. The more information, evidence really, he had to support whatever Heath may have to say, the better he could do that job if it became necessary.

As he headed to the door to lock back up, since his secretary had been given a few days off, he thought about his brief conversation with Heath. While the others were still in the study with the doctor this afternoon, Jarrod had quickly gone around to stand on the other side of the settee so he could see if Heath was asleep or not. Because he was lying on his side with one hand holding his forehead as if he was in pain, Jarrod couldn’t see his eyes.

With a reluctant sigh, he reached down to touch Heath’s shoulder and give it a slight shake.

“Boy Howdy, Jarrod, ya don’t have ta yell,” came the quiet, but immediate response.

Jarrod jumped a little, because he hadn’t yet said a word. Then, he leaned down over the back of the settee and said, “Heath, I needed to ask you something, but I hated to wake you.” Then, he added, clearly puzzled, “How did you know it was me, anyway?”

“Fancy lawyer cologne,” came the muffled reply.

Silas, sitting in the nearby chair, just flashed a wide grin and kept on silently slicing peaches into a bowl.

“Oh,” Jarrod responded. Then he asked, “Heath, I’m going to Stockton to send a few telegrams. I’m concerned that this whole thing with Liam is going to lead to more than just questions. Will you consent to letting me ask for an investigation into your background so we will have irrefutable evidence if needed later to defend you?”

The pause stretched so long, Jarrod was afraid Heath had fallen asleep. Just when he reached out to touch his brother’s shoulder again, he quickly pulled his hand back at the weary, resigned voice that answered his question.

“Yes.”

Wondering at the one word response and the tone in which it had been given, he felt the need to probe. “Heath, I. . . .”

The quietly-controlled voice interrupted. “Do what ya got ta do, Lawyer, ‘n don’t apologize for it. But,” Heath said with a slightly harder tone, the soft drawl noticeably missing, “You’ll promise me I’ll read any report before you or anyone else, and I’ll decide if what’s in it goes any further.” It was not a question.

Seeing the others approaching from the study, Jarrod had nodded quickly. Then, he realized Heath couldn’t see him. He had leaned down and said into the ear below the bandage, “You’ve got it, Brother Heath.” As he stood up and reached back down to touch the shoulder again, Heath’s right hand left his forehead and extended up between his chest and the back of the couch. Jarrod grasped it, and returned the strong grip.

Turning, he and Silas nodded at one another. “Take care of him, Silas. This family has a lot of time to make up for with this young man. I’ll be back soon.”

Now, as he turned Jingo toward the telegraph office, he hoped they would never need the information requested in either wire.

* * * * * * * *

In an attempt to avoid disturbing the young man sleeping in the family’s usual sitting room, Victoria, Jarrod, and Nick gathered in the study before dinner. While they waited for Silas to announce the meal, the three sat quietly discussing their options for the morning. Jarrod, during his afternoon trip to town, had been unable to persuade Liam to give Heath any longer than tomorrow morning before coming in. Dr. Merar had been correct about the pressure being placed on the sheriff to make sure he had all the gang members locked safely away, possibly including Heath.

“A telegram I saw from Markleeville came from a deputy, not the sheriff. Apparently, the sheriff is out of town, and the deputy is not really sure of all the details of the murders and the subsequent investigation. He indicated that it could be a couple more days before the sheriff returns. However, he said we could try to reach this Sheriff Ashton in Sacramento at the Huff Hotel there if it is an emergency,” Jarrod explained.

“Well, did you?” Nick demanded.

“No, not yet, Nick. I’ll try in the morning. The telegraph office here and probably the one on the other end were closed by the time I finished trying to persuade Liam.” The lawyer shook his head in frustration. “Sometimes trying to talk to that man is like trying to talk reason to one of the fence posts in your pasture, Nick!”

Patting Jarrod’s arm, Victoria said, “I’m sure he’ll come around, Jarrod. The problem is that now we have to figure out a way to keep Heath well until he does.”

“What if he talks to Heath and isn’t satisfied? What if he decides he’s going to put him in that jail? What then?” Nick was up and pacing again, his hands emphasizing each new question as he moved.

“Alright, Brother Nick, let’s look at this analytically, starting with the worst-case scenario, if you will,” Jarrod responded.

At that moment, they heard steps in the hall. Looking up expecting to see Silas, Victoria gasped when, instead, she saw Audra with one arm wrapped protectively around Heath.

He flashed them a lop-sided grin and walked slowly into the room. Easing into the closest chair with a little help from her, he looked up at Audra and said all he had breath for, “Thanks, Little Girl.”

She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Looking up at her in surprise, he raised his right hand from where he had been holding his side to touch his cheek reverently. The smile he gave her next was the warmest one any of them remembered seeing from him. While his typical lop-sided smile did not always fully reach his eyes, this one did, and for a moment, the pain in them turned to pure joy. Then, just as quickly, the pain was back, and he was struggling for a full breath.

After a moment, he said, “Hope ya don’t mind. . . . I’ve had enough of lyin’ in one place for one day.” Taking the glass of water Audra handed him, he raised it up to the picture hanging on the wall above the mantle, and then drank a long swallow without moving his eyes away from the daunting figure.

Trying to break the quiet tension that resulted from his silent toast, Victoria said, “Heath, we certainly don’t mind you joining us. We want you to, but really, you should be in bed. The doctor said you weren’t to be up moving around for three days at least.”

After listening to her politely, he countered, “Mrs. Barkley, I’m sure you ‘n the doctor are right, but the sheriff, well, he don’t agree. . . . If I don’t get up ‘n movin’ now, . . . I won’t be able ta hold up my end’a that promise come t’morrow mornin’.”

She nodded at him in understanding. Walking over, she offered her arm. “Alright, Heath. I don’t like it, but I understand. Let’s go in to dinner and see if we can get some hot food into you. I’m sure you’re ready for something a little more substantial than the soup you had for lunch.”

Turning to Jarrod, she said, “We do need to discuss the concerns we have about tomorrow with Heath, but I suggest we do it after dinner. For now, I will be delighted to have all four of my children seated around me at the table!” Sharing her dazzling smile with everyone, she walked slowly with Heath to the dining room.

Chapter 5

Just before they stood up from the table after dinner, Victoria again took charge. “Heath, usually, we all go to the study or the sitting room for time together before everyone heads upstairs for bed. Nick is usually the first to go up, because he gets up early to start his day, while Jarrod generally stays awake the longest working on briefs or reading. Tonight, however, if you are willing to continue our conversation about tomorrow, we could reconvene in your room upstairs so you can lie down comfortably as we talk. Or we can talk downstairs and help you upstairs afterwards.”

He had been listening attentively to her, trying to picture it all in his mind, before he answered her. Finally, after a long pause in which he could feel the eyes of everyone else on him, he said, “I’d rather stay down here t’night if you don’t mind. . .” Pausing for breath, he was grateful when Nick finished his explanation for him.

“Yeah, we know, Heath. No more stairs!”

Nodding at Nick, Heath added, “Anywhere you say to talk. . . is fine with me.”

Though he knew he wanted to participate in the discussions, talking was hard for him since it made it harder to catch, and keep, each breath. Then, to compound the problem, with each deep breath, pain shot through him from his bruised chest to his side and around to his back. Keeping the pain out of his voice and off of his face was taking a great deal of his concentration. And, the grinding, constant headache wasn’t helping either.

Victoria said, “Well, then, I suggest we retire to the sitting room.”

Again offering Heath her arm, she slowly led the way and seated him beside her on the now familiar grey settee. Audra picked up two pillows from the floor and placed them behind him. Heath leaned back into them gratefully so he was half-sitting, half-lying across the length of the long piece of furniture.

Noticing that his eyes were closed, Victoria sent Audra to the kitchen for the medicine the doctor had left for him. When her daughter returned, she patted him on the knee until he opened his eyes enough to see her. With a small groan, he sat up a little more to take the glass from Audra’s hand. But, he only drank half of the contents before handing it back.

“Heath,” Victoria admonished in her most motherly voice, “You must drink all of it. It will help you rest.”

Shaking his head at all the concern she continually showed him, he said quietly, “I can’t drink all of it ‘n keep half a brain in my head. Don’t worry, it’ll be enough.”

He leaned back into the pillows again. He listened without interrupting as Jarrod reviewed his failed attempts at persuading the sheriff to give them an extension. “Heath, I’m sorry, but the sheriff feels he has no choice, despite what the doctor told him. You have to go in tomorrow morning to answer some questions. I think it’s the only thing that has a chance of satisfying everyone in town that you weren’t involved with the gang, not here, not in Markleeville.”

“Thanks, Jarrod, for trying,” he said. “I’ll be alright in the morning.”

Nick started pacing up and down by the fireplace, worrying just as he had before dinner. “Jarrod!” He said loudly, “What if he wants to do more than just ask questions?”

“Well, Nick,” Jarrod replied, “I guess that will depend on how much evidence anybody has. I don’t think Liam has very much, or he would have already made an arrest.”

Then, they heard Heath ask a quiet question, “Jarrod, what happens if I can’t . . . if I can’t persuade the sheriff ta believe me t’morrow. Can he. . . ,” Heath stopped and squeezed his head with one hand as a particularly strong stab of pain shot through him. Leaving his hand over his eyes, he continued after a moment, “Can he lock me up in his jail . . . based only on what those men tell him?”

“Heath, if he decides he has enough information to arrest you, he can, and yes, that can mean putting you in jail. My biggest concern is that those men know you helped put them there. Even if the sheriff doesn’t realize yet what they would do to you, . . . “

Heath interrupted him, his voice tense, “How long?”

“How long? If you mean how long could he keep you there,” Jarrod continued for clarification, “It all depends on when they decide to have the hearing, and . . . .”

Again, Heath asked his question, this time his voice was almost a whisper, “For how long?”

Jarrod stopped talking and listened hard to what he heard in Heath’s voice. “I don’t know, maybe two or three days, maybe longer, maybe a week if. . . .”

He got no further before the injured man struggled to his feet and almost blindly stumbled to the open set of double side doors. Nick tried to reach out for him, but Heath just brushed right past. As he went by, Nick saw the look on Heath’s face, and he knew it was the look of a man struggling with more than physical pain. Nick looked over at Jarrod, who was staring at the back of the man now standing outside, holding to the ornamental railing with a death grip.

Victoria moved to the doorway and stood there, waiting patiently for Heath to pull himself together before she intruded upon his obvious, but silent anguish.

Audra stood up and went to Jarrod, who folded her into his arms. “What’s wrong with Heath, Jarrod? I’m frightened for him!”

“I know, Honey.” Jarrod smoothed her hair, as he looked over her head and into Nick’s eyes. “I think he’s frightened, too. We all are.”

He could feel Audra shaking her head against his chest. Then, she said emphatically, “No, Jarrod, how can that be? He wasn’t frightened yesterday. He could have been killed, and he wasn’t afraid. You were about to explain the concern you have about him being put in the jail with those men that will hate him now, and even knowing what they could do to him, that wasn’t what he reacted to! How can he be frightened of the jail itself?”

“She’s right, Jarrod,” Nick spoke up. “It’s something else, something about having to go to jail for more than a few days. When you said that, it was. . . it was more like he just had to get outside! I saw his face; he was fighting sheer panic!”

Looking over at the doorway again, Jarrod could see Victoria standing next to Heath and moving her hand across his back in large, gentle circles. He couldn’t hear her words, but he could tell she was talking quietly and steadily to him, as if she were trying to calm him.

As he met Nick’s eyes once more, both of them had the same, unvoiced thought, “We are looking at a man who has been in prison before and cannot stand the thought of having to go back.”

Doubt and worry returned, slamming into Jarrod as he struggled with what this might mean. In his arms, Audra was living proof that Heath possessed a strong sense of right and wrong, that he was willing to sacrifice himself to protect an innocent person. How could he reconcile this with the evidence, also before him, that Heath had apparently been to jail for a long enough period of time to leave him nearly panicked over the idea of going back?

What did they really know about this man? The evidence pointed to expertise with a rifle to the point of being deadly. Was he also that good with a hand iron? Could he have been jailed before for killing someone? Could it be that he had murdered someone in his distant past and was now. . . ?”

“NO!” Jarrod’s mind suddenly screamed at him, “No, that’s enough. Stop it. This is pure conjecture! What have you seen with your own eyes, Jarrod Barkley, that makes you think he is capable of murder? Nothing! Not one thing. You have to remain firm on that point, Counselor,” he silently chastised himself.

Then, he remembered something else, and continued to think loudly to himself. “Wait a minute! What was it the doctor said today? That it was as if he had spent a large amount of time in a place with only poor quality air to breathe! Could that be true? And, if it were, could that explain an intense fear of small, close places like jail cells? Maybe there is another explanation for his fear.” Thinking rapidly, he remembered that Heath had allowed him to request the personal investigation earlier in the day. If he had a criminal or fugitive past, surely he wouldn’t have agreed to that.

Still thinking to himself, Jarrod said silently, “One thing I owe him, after all he has done, is continued belief in him until he proves us wrong.” Then, the big brother in Jarrod suddenly over shouted the lawyer in him, and he knew what he had to do, “Ask him, I just have to ask him!”

Bending down slightly, he said, “Audra, can you sit down right here for a few minutes so I can go check on Mother and Heath?” Nodding, she stepped back from his comforting arms and turned to sit in the high-backed chair behind her.

Catching Nick’s eye, he walked toward the open doors. As he approached, he heard Victoria ask Heath to return inside. Jarrod stopped and waited. Together, the two of them made their way back to the family, where Heath sat on the edge of the seat with his head in his hands and his elbows propped on his knees. Turning around, Jarrod followed them and remained standing behind Heath.

Looking down at his mother carefully, he saw her nod up at him with encouragement. He placed a hand on Heath’s shoulder, but instantly felt the young man flinch and move away from his touch. Puzzled, he moved around to sit on the table in front of him.

“Heath, are you alright?” Jarrod inquired quietly.

Observing that Heath was almost rocking back and forth as he sat there in obvious agony, Jarrod reached out to try to ease him back into the pillows. Again, he felt the flinch; Heath’s desire to not be touched was visible to everyone. Glancing at Victoria again, he could see the concern growing in her eyes.

“Heath. Heath! Can you look at me?” Jarrod kept his hands on his own knees, but it was very hard not to just reach out and pull the younger man into his arms and hold him. Finally, when he realized he was getting no other response, he did just that. Surprised that Heath did not pull away this time, Jarrod put his arms firmly around the strong, but tightly clenched, shoulders and held on with all his strength. As he realized that Heath was not resisting him, he pulled his brother further forward in attempt to comfort him.

Victoria, with tears streaming down her face, reached out to touch Heath’s hair. She stood up and bent over to whisper to him, “Heath, Honey, we’re all very glad you are here with us.”

She reached out for Audra’s hand and led her daughter toward the stairs. As she moved across the foyer, she turned down the two lamps to offer only a soft glow, motioned for Nick to do the same with the other two, and headed upstairs with her daughter, arm in arm. She went inside Audra’s bedroom with her, firmly closed the door behind them, and wrapped her daughter in her arms. Together, they held each other while the tears tore through them both.

Then, Victoria raised her head and wiped Audra’s tears from under her eyes, and said, “Oh, Sweetheart, there is something about Heath that just pulls at this mother’s heart! How can someone be so strong and fearless---like he was for you and Nick yesterday, and so lost and vulnerable---like he is right now?”

“Mother, what do you think has him so upset?”

Victoria just shook her head.

Audra continued, “Mother, I think Nick believes he has been in prison before, and he’s afraid to go back. Do you think that’s true? Could he have done something so terrible? It just doesn’t seem possible!”

“I don’t know, Sweetheart. I just don’t know.” She patted Audra’s face and said, “Try to get some sleep. We’ll talk some more tomorrow.”

Leaving Audra’s room, she returned to the top of the stairs and stopped. The only sound was of Jarrod’s deep, but quietly, murmuring voice. She could not understand any distinct words. As she turned to go to her room, she spoke to her beloved husband inside her heart, “Oh, Tom! This child of yours is so easy to love. Please keep him safe for us and please help us help him, now that he is finally home!”

Downstairs Nick sat half on and half off of the settee next to Heath. He had one arm on one shoulder of each of his brothers and could gradually feel the easing of tension in Heath’s. He felt Jarrod give Heath’s shoulder a solid pat, before easing him back into the pillows. Jarrod stood up and moved to the fireplace mantle and said, “Nick, I think its time for that whiskey, one for all three of us.”

Nick gave Heath’s hair a gentle swipe on his way to comply with Jarrod’s request. In the soft light, he could see Heath’s lop-sided grin quickly cross his face before the pain returned and his eyes closed again.

When he stood in front of Jarrod to hand him his glass, they nodded at each other. Jarrod used his eyes to offer Nick the place closest to Heath. Nick sat down on the now vacant spot on the table, and tapped the back of Heath’s hand with the glass. “Here you go, Boy. I think we all need one.” Heath opened his eyes, sat up slowly, and reached down to retrieve the glass with the hand that had been massaging his aching temples.

Jarrod came around and sat beside Heath. He held up his glass toward the other two men. Nick held his up, and Heath, with a long look at each one of them, slowly followed suit. Nick said with conviction, looking first at Jarrod, then straight into Heath’s anguished eyes, “To brothers!”

Jarrod and Heath looked again at each other, and Jarrod stated, “To brothers!”

Slowly, Heath nodded, his eyes showing his pain, but also mirroring his growing desire to belong with them. Quietly, but with conviction, he echoed the words of the other two, the words that had touched his heart, “To brothers.”

As each swallowed his drink, the echoes of the three distinct voices seemed to permeate the room, the louder, brash voice of the first to speak the words, the deeper, serious voice of the oldest, and the quieter, softer voice of the more hesitant speaker, all blended together to create a satisfying range of resonance in the otherwise silent room.

Then, the youngest of the three broke the comfortable quiet as he leaned back with a soft groan and again closed his eyes.

Nick removed the glass from Heath’s hand so it wouldn’t fall to the floor. Then, glancing over at Jarrod, he shook his head slightly and raised his eyebrows.

Using both hands to signal for Nick to just wait, Jarrod also leaned back. He propped his feet up on the table Nick was sitting on and tried to take his own advice.

As the silence settled throughout the room again, Nick wished that it wasn’t so hot. Having a fire going in the hearth would have given him something to poke and prod, something to do with his hands, while he tried to wait quietly.

Finally, he stood and crossed the room to the tall mahogany secretary against the wall. Returning with three cigars, he offered one to Jarrod. Moving to the chair, across from them, he too propped his feet on the low, sturdy table. Lighting his own cigar, he tossed the matches to the only brother with his eyes open. Then, he set the remaining cigar on the table and sat back to wait as patiently as possible.

Time seemed to stretch out flat like a riderless horse galloping down a long, straight road on a bright, summer afternoon. Minutes passed by without notice, marked only by the sound from a nearby clock, now distinct in the silent space. The smoke swirled above them, drawn toward the open doorway and the slightly cooler draft outside.

Nick glanced at the still form leaning back into the pillows in the darkened room. The only movement was the working of the fingers kneading the area around the stark white bandage encircling his head. He could not see Heath’s eyes, but he could imagine that they were still tightly closed.

He glanced at Jarrod, whose eyes were also on Heath. Nick knew that look. Jarrod was studying the man beside him, trying to see inside him, figure him out, but he was determined to be patient enough to wait him out if necessary.

Nick struggled with his own turbulent tendency to fill the almost slumbering silence with words. Determined to wait, to trust Jarrod’s instincts, Nick forcefully turned his own thoughts to tomorrow.

Just when he had about decided he was tired of sitting here, sick of this cigar, weary of this waiting game, he heard one word. The word sent his brain spiraling backward in time, a feeling of horror surging through his very soul. That word! Nick fought the urge to jump up and charge across the room to shake the young man whose soft voice had uttered it. However, disbelief and dread kept him rooted to the spot where he sat.

“Carterson.”

“Heath?” Jarrod leaned forward slightly and stared at the blond brother beside him.

After another lengthy pause, they heard his reply.

“Seven months.”

Jarrod and Nick locked eyes and didn’t move. Nick saw his own outrage slowly being mirrored in Jarrod’s face. Seven months? In the place everyone knew was considered one of the worst hellholes of the war? How could anyone survive a place like that? How could Heath have even been in that place, and as what? No more than a boy?

In his mind, Nick saw again the figure of an impossibly young sniper galloping his horse across a battlefield with reins tied firmly around his saddlehorn, and he heard the report of a rifle, the two fallen officers on the other side. Then, he saw men---no, shadows of men---lying on cots in an army hospital tent waiting for the inevitable, much-longed-for release from their tormented, wasted bodies.

Carterson? Seven months? He thought of all the stories he had heard, of all the sickness, torture, and death the very name of the place invoked.

Looking at the man across from him, he remembered the words of Howard Merar earlier in the day. He remembered the doctor’s puzzled expression and how he couldn’t understand the signs of starvation, the marks on an otherwise strong back, the concerns about Heath’s lungs.

Suddenly, all the pieces plummeted into place for Nick. His little brother had been a prisoner, but he wasn’t a criminal. He had suffered starvation and beatings, but he had walked away as a survivor. In his mind, he could hear his mother’s words as she stood up to the sheriff to protect Heath earlier in the day, as she told Liam that Heath deserved the respect and gratitude of them all.

She didn’t know the half of how right she was.

“Heath? Your back?” Nick asked quietly.

He saw the head nod slightly, and the pain-filled reply, “Yes.”

With his memories of the anguish he had felt at abandoning this brother to fight the raiders alone yesterday spurring him on, with his memories of the strong emotions shared this morning guiding him, Nick stood up and moved forward to sit on the table once more. He grabbed both of Heath’s upper arms in his hands, giving him no chance to break away, and pulled him forward.

“Heath.” Nick’s voice broke and wouldn’t allow him to say anymore. He closed his own eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them to look straight into Heath’s. “You’ll never have to fight those demons alone again, Boy. Do you understand? Jarrod and I are here for you. We will always be here for you. We are brothers, and brothers fight for each other, brothers fight together.”

The galloping horse of time slowed to a slow, steady, rhythmic, two-beat jog like a man’s heart beat. The space between seconds seemed to stretch. Time meant nothing.

Bold hazel eyes met sad sky blue and held. Slowly, Nick’s searching eyes saw the spark of belief catch in those blue smoldering depths and, he watched as the belief was joined by a brief flash of light-filled joy.

Heath swallowed hard and nodded once. Then, his eyes turned toward Jarrod, who leaned in and placed his hand on top of one of Nick’s. Together, they continued to grasp the well-muscled arm.

“Yes, Heath. Together.” Jarrod said.

Heath closed his eyes, and took in a deep, ragged breath, and nodded again. As he released the breath he was holding, he shifted backwards slightly. Nick and Jarrod eased him back on the pillows once more, and Jarrod stood to lift Heath’s legs to the place he had just been sitting.

Nick picked up the light blanket from its discarded place beneath the table, and he spread it across the already sleeping form. He patted the shoulder and sat back down in his chair. Returning his feet to the table, he looked over as Jarrod settled himself in the other chair.

“Well, Pappy,” he said, with a small smile, “It looks like you just added one more to your brood.”

Chapter 6

The pre-dawn hush brought a wonderful coolness into Victoria’s room. When she rose from her bed and pushed back the softly swirling curtains to look out into the dark, she knew she was not the only one awake. Listening carefully, she could hear a soft murmur coming from out in the yard below, a sound that could only be one voice.

With a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, she quickly dressed in dark slacks and a pale yellow blouse. Enjoying the feel of the early morning chill, she picked up her boots as she left the room.

At the top of the staircase, she hesitated in the near dark and listened again. The pleasant expression on her face became a full smile as she heard two sets of gentle snores coming from the room below. Descending lightly, she checked to see that her motherly instincts were correct.

Yes, those were her two dark-headed sons adding their muted chorus to the otherwise quiet morning. They were sprawled out in chairs with their boots still on and propped up on her marble-topped table by the hearth. They were the only occupants of the room.

She tread lightly on her way to the kitchen. There, she donned her boots, picked out a couple of apples and, cutting and wrapping two large chunks of cheese, she slipped out the side door.

Once outside, she sat down on a nearby bench and waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Just a hint of rose-bathed clouds floated in the chill air to the east, and the scent of hay and sweet-feed made the morning complete. Again, she listened.

The soft, gentle, murmuring off to her left had a rhythm of its own. The voice had a steady tone, but it was punctuated by pauses. A light chuckle added to the spell created by the quiet drawl. Those two sounds pulled her to her feet, pulled her toward the barn, pulled her to the corral beyond.

When she reached the first gate, she stopped and leaned against the stark white fence, watching across past the huge old tree to the corral beyond. She was mesmerized. As the sky gradually lightened behind her, she could just barely see his lithe movements, see his deliberate actions.

Talking softly to the two colts, he scratched and rubbed, first one, then the other. Then, he deliberately stopped talking, turned his back, and walked away from them about five yards. Standing quietly, he looked out over the early morning sky and waited patiently. When he felt the first inquisitive nose push into his side, he slowly reached out, caressed the muzzle, and scratched the sensitive areas around the dark, liquid brown eyes. Still, he kept quiet and remained with his back turned. When he felt the second muzzle on the other side, he reached out to touch it, and slowly turned to face them both. As soon as he turned, he began the soft, gentle murmuring. Once again, his hands found itchy places under short manes and behind swiveling ears.

Then, he turned to repeat the ritual again. This time, however, he tried to increase the distance between himself and the two colts.

She could see the smile on his face when first one, then the other, hardly let him stop walking before they moved to join him. Unwilling to interrupt and enjoying this early morning glimpse into her new son, Victoria remained where she was.

As she watched, he turned to walk away again. This time, both babies followed immediately. He began his quiet murmuring as soon as he felt them at his shoulder. Together, they made a slow circuit of the corral. When he reached the gate, he turned to face them. They stopped. He reached beside him and unlatched the gate, opening it wide toward them. Then, he stepped through the opening and closed it carefully, their first lesson in ground manners now complete.

He headed toward the large tree in the enclosed area near the barn and eased down to the ground, placing his back against the trunk. Silently, his eyes found hers watching him from across the outer fence, and a pleased smile lit up his face.

Victoria waved him back to his seated position as he started to climb slowly to his feet to greet her. Reaching him quickly, she placed her hand on his shoulder and, pushing him down, said, “Good morning, Heath. May I join you to watch the sunrise?”

Giving up, his hand motioned toward the ground, and he slid to the left a bit to offer her room to lean back, too. “Yes, Ma’am, please do.”

For long moments, they both remained riveted to the display of color stretching from one end of the horizon to the other. Then, she heard his quiet voice, “My Mama ‘n I used ta sit like this, either under a tree, or on the porch step, just sittin’ and greetin’ the day t’gether. I guess it’s always been my fav’rite time of day because’a those good memories.”

At first, Victoria felt a tightening in her chest at his mention of his mother. Then, she realized her own joy at his sharing of this special memory was much stronger than the pain she feared. Turning toward him slightly, she reached up and touched the side of his face. She saw a sad half-smile and was not surprised when her fingers found dampness as well. He turned his head to look down at her; he did not try to hide his feelings or their result.

Reaching up, he took her hand in his and brought her fingers up to his lips. He kissed her fingertips, tucked her arm under his, and continued to hold her hand close.

Looking back at the morning sky, they settled firmly against the rough bark, and continued to watch until the brightly curved edge of the red sun began to show.

Victoria was the first to reluctantly break the easy silence, “Heath, I know we need to talk about your parents, your mother and my Tom, but right now, I am more worried about you. When the sheriff gets something in his head, it is very hard to change his mind. I thought he was finally convinced that you were not part of that gang of marauders, but now, I don’t know. I don’t understand all this about Markleeville.” She trailed off.

At first, he didn’t respond, so she waited.

“It’ll eventually get straightened out, Mrs. Barkley. I have no concerns about that.”

“But, Heath, what if Sheriff Forrest decides to put you in jail with those men? That will put you in terrible danger!”

Heath shook his head, “I don’t think it’ll come ta that. If it does, I can deal with them. I just don’t handle confinement well, too many bad memories, things I’d rather not have ta remember.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, his eyes never leaving the brightening horizon. “I’ve had a few hours ta prepare myself for the idea. I’ll be okay for a little while if it comes down ta that.”

He stopped. She could tell that he was battling something deep inside himself, something that terrified him. It was brought on by the very thought of being behind bars. That he was struggling so tore at her heart, but at the same time, she was incredibly grateful that he trusted her enough to remain here, sitting beside her, while he waged his inner war.

She held his arm tightly, and squeezed his hand with all the strength in her fingers. Slowly, she could feel the tension ease out of him. He gave her hand a squeeze of his own, and they both relaxed again.

“Heath, no matter what, we will be there for you as much as the sheriff will allow. You won’t have to go through it completely alone.” Something undefinable, some feeling inside her, made her add, “You won’t be alone this time.”

He looked down at her, his eyes shining, and he nodded, “Thank you.” Then, he leaned his head back against the tree and closed his eyes.

She adjusted her position so she could kneel beside him and look into his face. He had released her hand at her movement, and she used it to rub his arm as she spoke, “Heath, did the doctor tell you how concerned he is about you?”

He opened his eyes, looked into her serious face, and shook his head slightly. “No, he didn’t. ‘Just told me ta stay in that bed ‘n rest. ‘Can’t do that for very long. ‘Never could.” The lop-sided smile that followed, the one that reminded her so much of the father he never knew, took her breath away.

When she could speak again, she said, “You were asleep when he talked to us. He told us that you need to be very careful to avoid any more aggravation to your injuries. He was very worried about causing internal bleeding with all the bruises you’ve suffered to your chest, side, and back. He said you could still have dizziness and lapses of consciousness due to your head injuries, and he cautioned us that you seem to have a tendency to develop lung ailments.”

Heath nodded slightly and smiled again, “I guess I’ve had pneumonia more times than I can count in my life.”

As she settled back against the tree, she leaned into him and shivered, thinking of a young boy battling to breathe. He responded by lifting his right arm and placing it around her.

After a moment, he said, “Mrs. Barkley, I don’t know what I’ve done ta deserve the carin’ I see in your eyes, but I want ta tell ya that I’m grateful for it. . . . I have many questions, ‘n I imagine you do, too. . . If you’ll let me finish up what I have ta do today, . . . I do want ta have that talk with you.” Again, he stopped and concentrated on breathing.

Then, he looked back out toward the sun easing its way into the sky. “Thank you for the feelings you’ve helped me find again, for showin’ me that my search isn’t hopeless, and, . . . and mostly for showin’ me that I’m not alone after all.”

Again, he paused to breathe. Then, he started again, “But, please understand, I came here for a reason that had nothin’ ta do with your, . . . with this family, ‘n until that reason is put ta rest, I can’t, I won’t, focus on anything else.”

Though she did not understand all that he was saying, she knew in her heart that it was all that he could give her right now. It was enough to know that he would find his way back to them, to her, whenever he could.

After another pause, he added with a slight smile, “And don’t let the doctor worry you on my account. ‘Been through worse. It’ll take more than a few bruises ta keep me off a horse.”

She stood up, dusted herself off, and offered him her hand.

Thinking of the other day when her son, Nick, had done the same for him, Heath laughed at the resemblance. Taking her hand, he carefully climbed to his feet.

As they walked toward the house, her arm once more tucked under his, the rays of the early morning sun led the way.

Chapter 7

After their gentle conversation in the near-dark of early morning, their discussion after breakfast had been twice as difficult. More clearly even than when he had insisted on returning to the raiders’ camp to help rescue Audra, she saw in him now the same cussed, Barkley stubbornness she so strongly associated with his brothers, that same stubbornness she had seen so often in his father.

Despite her words of caution from the early morning, Heath had insisted on riding into town to meet the sheriff. Finally, in exasperation, she had thrown her hands up in the air, walked over to the intense, blond-haired cowboy before her, and shaken her finger at him, “Heath Thomson Barkley, if you get yourself hurt again because you do this against my wishes, don’t think I’m going to go sparingly with my liniment bottle when you return!”

Heath looked down at her, placed his hands on her shoulders, and leaned down to kiss her cheek. Then, he said quietly, “Mrs. Barkley, Ma’am, you sound just like my mama. Thank you.”

Then, at her surprised look that slowly changed from anger to joy, Nick started laughing. Audra continued to struggle to contain her smile, and Jarrod completely lost the battle with his. Finally, Nick took charge. “Let’s go! The quicker we get this behind us, the quicker we can get back here and get to work. This is a working ranch, you know!” He bellowed. Turning on his heel, he led the way to the barn.

When the three men entered, the first thing Heath noticed was his horse. He was overjoyed at the sight of the little black Modoc mare in her own stall, standing between the two taller Barkley horses in theirs. Grabbing hold of Nick’s arm, he said, “If you weren’t so homely, I’d kiss you, too!”

Nick pushed Heath away and backed up frantically, “Now, you cut that out!”

Grinning, as he looked between the dark-haired cowboy and his beloved horse, Heath grabbed a brush from on top of a hay bale and headed for the stall.

As the other two readied their mounts, they enjoyed listening to Heath talk quietly to his mare. It was as if he completely forgot they were nearby, and as the one-sided conversation continued while he worked over her, they saw a glimpse into their brother they had not yet been privy to.

“Well, Little Gal, it looks like you ‘n me found ourselves right back here in this big ol’ barn again. Sure are fancy ‘ccommodations for the likes of us, ain’t they? I sure did miss ya, Little Horse. That brown fella had some speed, but he couldn’t touch you, no, Ma’am! Just give me a little time, Gal, we’ll be back ta chasin’ trains ‘n mendin’ fence t’gether.”

When he finally had her saddled, he was obviously winded, but happier by far than they had seen him yet.

“Fool, Boy,” Nick muttered as he watched Heath climb stiffly into the saddle. “Can’t get him to talk when something important happens, then he talks himself silly to that horse and then, can’t catch his own breath!”

Throughout the rest of the ride into town, however, none of them said a word. Jarrod watched with fascination at the way Nick could hardly keep his eyes off the man riding slightly in front of them. Jarrod couldn’t decide if Nick was afraid his new little brother would disappear at any second, or if he was worried that Heath would suddenly topple from his horse.

Heath, for his part, seemed to be glad to be back in the saddle and eager to get this settled. He didn’t look like he was having any trouble, but Jarrod remembered the poker face from the bunkhouse game very clearly and wondered.

Finally, just as he neared the outskirts of Stockton, Heath pulled up. When the other two joined him, he pushed his hat halfway back on his head and looked over at them. “I appreciate ya comin’ with me, but this is somethin’ I need ta do alone.”

Even before he could finish, though, the other two were shaking their heads, no.

“Now, wait a minute, Heath,” Jarrod started.

But, Nick jumped in before he could finish, “Boy, you do beat all. I thought we figured this out last night. We stand together on this. No, you don’t have to do this alone! We’re going with you!”

Jarrod and Heath exchanged an amused, raised eyebrow at Nick’s exuberance. Jarrod leaned toward Heath and said quietly, “I don’t think you should even bother wasting breath to argue, Brother Heath. You’d just better get used to him!”

Heath nodded once, and said, “After you, Nick.”

As Nick pulled ahead, Jarrod noted the effort it required for Heath to get moving again. His eyes closed briefly, and he pushed his right fist into his left side. Then, he drew in a deep breath and opened his eyes, following Nick.

Following them, Jarrod’s foreboding, that strong feeling of unease that he had been unable to shake all morning, despite their easy start, tightened up a notch inside him, like a cinch being snugged up around a sour saddle horse.

Though it was early, Nick found himself getting angrier by the minute as they rode through the quiet streets. The few people they passed tended to either ignore the three or stop in their tracks and stare. Whenever their eyes came to rest on Nick, however, they saw his glare and hastily moved on.

Heath rode with his eyes squinted into an intense gaze straight ahead, his jaw set, neither looking to the left nor the right. Jarrod couldn’t tell if he was angry, too, or if he was simply in pain.

When they arrived outside the sheriff’s office, they dismounted and tied up nearby. Nick barged in through the door shouting, “Liam!” while the other two trailed behind. Heath walked quietly to the rifle rack and stood looking at his Winchester hanging there, his back to the room. Jarrod could see the tension in his shoulders, before Heath took in a ragged breath and let it out. Then, he turned, gave Jarrod that lop-sided, half-smile and sat down on the corner of a table.

Jarrod found a coffee pot and poured three cups.

The sheriff and a deputy came out of the cell area at the back of the building. “Morning, Gentlemen,” Liam Forrest said. Cocking his head at Nick, he asked, “Are you going to stay for this, too?”

In reply, Nick just eased his tall frame into a chair by the door to the jail, propped his boots on the table where Heath sat, spurs hanging down below the marred wooden edge, and crossed his arms.

Jarrod smiled slightly, handed each of his brothers a cup of coffee, and remained standing.

The sheriff sat down behind his desk and pulled out a piece of white paper with notes on it. As he looked across the room at Heath, his eyes met a blue wall of ice staring back at him.

The silence in the room was a tangible thing. No one moved for a full minute. The two men stared at each other, while Nick and Jarrod looked back and forth at both of them and then at each other.

“How long have you been riding with Garner’s men, Boy?” the sheriff finally asked.

After another long pause, Heath said quietly, “Never rode with him the way you mean. Just worked for him off and on.”

The sheriff thought about this and said, “Okay, how long have you worked for him?”

“Just rode in ta join him this week, Monday.”

“Heath,” Jarrod spoke up, “Monday was the day Audra got caught in the canyon. Was that the day you joined them?”

Heath nodded, “Yes.”

The others exchanged glances, remembering that Harry Coleman had been killed by the gang on Saturday night, and that his funeral was Sunday.

Trying to clarify to make sure they all understood correctly about this important point, Jarrod said, “Heath, tell us about joining up with Garner that Monday. I never was quite sure why you were with him when he brought Audra home.”

Heath sighed, and looked down at his coffee. “I rode into their camp that afternoon lookin’ for Garner, found out he was off chasin’ mustangs and where. Then, I went ta join ‘em ta see if he was interested in hirin’ me.”

“Wait a minute,” Nick, remembering the difficulty they had had getting close to the camp after Audra was kidnapped, interrupted, “They just let you ride in?”

“Yeah, I knew some of ‘em, knew how he was about security, let ’em know it was me, and they let me come in. . . Turk and I crossed up, but some’a the others told me where ta find Garner. . . . I left ‘n rode ta the canyon they pointed me to.” Heath, who seemed to be breathing a little better than yesterday, only had to pause twice for breath and was glad of it.

The sheriff spoke up, “Then what?”

Heath shook his head slightly, “Just rode in ta help’em with the herd they were chasin’, we turned the lead horses when I saw your. . . .” He stopped when he realized he had been about to say ‘your sister’ and stared at Jarrod. Then, he simply said, “Miss Barkley.”

Not willing to let that stand, Jarrod supplied, “No, Heath, you saw Audra, our sister, Audra.”

Heath nodded. Then he tried again to finish his answer, “She was about ta get trampled, we turned the horses, and Garner checked on her.”

Jarrod interrupted this time, wanting to be sure and, if his gut feeling was correct, needing the sheriff to hear it, too. “Heath. Who noticed her there and turned the horses in time? It was you, wasn’t it?”

Heath narrowed his eyes at Jarrod, not enjoying the feeling of being pushed into saying more than he wanted to. Finally, he nodded once and looked back down into the now cold, dark liquid in his cup.

Jarrod met Nick’s eyes across the room.

Quietly, Jarrod asked, “What happened next?”

Heath glanced up at him, and said, “Garner talked ta her ‘n then came over ta me. He said he wanted me ta stay ta help break the horses they had caught. . . . When I told him Turk definitely did not want me ta stay, . . . he suggested I ride with him ta take Audra home. . . .Then, we could return ta his camp t’gether and explain ta Turk.”

Remembering, Heath then added, “I first got worried about your ranch on the way there when. . . .when Audra told him all about your out-buildings and how many men ‘n horses you had there.”

Absorbing this new piece of information, Jarrod inquired next, “You mean, even that first night, Monday, you were worried they would try a raid on us eventually?”

The blond nodded, “Yeah, Garner looked as eager to hear ‘bout all that information as a school room full ‘a young’uns when the teacher announces a holiday they don’t know nothin’ about. . . I was afraid it was goin’ ta lead ta trouble.”

Quietly, Jarrod asked, “Did you warn us of a raid on the Davis’ Ranch? Are you the one that asked us to go help them?”

He set down his coffee cup, removed his hat, and rubbed his arm across his bandage and the sweat-streaked hair above it. Finally, he nodded without looking up.

The sheriff spoke up, wanting proof, “Can you tell us how that warning was made and why?”

Heath looked the man square in the eye, then, and said, “Rang the fire bell ‘n left a note. I found out about the raid, . . . was afraid it would be that night, but didn’t know when exactly. . . just didn’t want ‘em ta cause any more damage.”

Jarrod looked over at Nick, whose slow grin was growing wider and wider. Jarrod lifted his eyebrow and nodded at Nick, encouraging him to take the lead during the next part--- the sheriff almost forgotten as they were all finally getting some answers to some lingering questions.

“How’d you get so bruised up?” Nick surprised them all by asking.

Heath looked up into Nick’s smiling, hazel eyes and grinned for the first time, “The last ornery ol’ bronc tried ta take us both for a ride right through the fence.”

“Fall on ya?” Nick asked with a sympathetic chuckle.

“Yeah, just no room ta get clear. Guess he knows he got the last word, too. . . Never did get back ta bust that one.” Heath shook his head ruefully.

“Was that the same day you rode into Jamie Drumm’s?” Nick asked next. When Heath nodded, Nick wanted to know, “Where did you learn to shoot with the reins tied around the horn like that?”

Heath instantly raised one eyebrow and looked at Nick with new respect. “How’d ya know?”

The dark-headed rancher responded, “I saw your reins before we found you near the road, knew the head shots on those two men didn’t come from a pistol, nor from a casual rifleman, and remembered something I once saw on a battlefield in Tennessee.”

Nick watched as Heath narrowed his eyes into a piercing, blue stare. Then, he saw the eyes lose focus for a moment, as if Heath was looking backward in time and remembering. A look of pain crossed the younger man’s face, and his eyes closed. He took in a ragged breath and pushed it back out slowly, obviously trying to rid himself of a few bad memories along with it.

Nick’s feet hit the floor with a loud thud, causing the two other men to jump; Heath’s mind was somewhere in the past, and he never moved. Nick took two long strides to reach him. Then, standing in front of him, Nick placed both hands on Heath’s shoulders and waited.

When the blue eyes finally opened, Heath raised his head to look into Nick’s. He nodded, and then, Nick did the same. No words were exchanged, but Nick returned to his seat.

The sheriff impatiently broke the silence that followed. “So you’re both saying you shot those two men in the head, from over 200 yards away, on a galloping horse with a rifle using a two-handed grip?” He started shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s the craziest thing that’s been said today!”

Heath, whose eyes still had a faraway look, forced himself back inside the four walls of the office, forced himself to concentrate on the sheriff’s words, despite the headache that threatened to engulf him. He looked at Jarrod, then at the man whose outburst of doubt neither surprised nor insulted him. He waited calmly for the tirade to end, remembering Mac’s slurred voice at the lookout post days ago.

Then, in a steely voice, he replied, “Sheriff Forrest, Garner ‘n his men were goin’ ta teach Drumm ‘n his family a lesson for not payin’ the protection money they wanted, . . .”

He stopped to cough, grabbing for his side as the power of the hacking almost doubled him over. Waving off Nick with one hand, he held onto the edge of the table and slowly eased himself back upright when the coughs subsided.

With the pain in his head and the sudden pounding in his side pushed down deep with each successive breath, he finished his explanation. “They wanted ta teach the man a lesson ‘n they were goin’ ta do it by killin’ his family. I did what I had ta do ta prevent that from happenin’.”

Heath stood up stiffly, and walked with determination toward the window. Once there, he leaned his aching head against the frame, caught his breath, and dared the dizziness to get too close. Then, they heard his voice again. “They’ve killed before. That’s why I’m here.”

Chapter 8

The black and white paint pony was tied to a tree in an alley behind the Main Street buildings of Stockton. The little gelding stood quietly with three other horses. They had been there for over an hour already and the morning was getting warmer by the minute. Their tails were swishing in the heat, keeping flies away, and occasionally, one of them would stamp a hoof to discourage a pesky insect from staying too long.

* * * * * * * *

“What do you mean, they’ve killed before, Heath?” Jarrod asked, clearly puzzled. “Do you mean Harry Coleman?”

The sheriff stood up suddenly, “Markleeville? That’s what you mean, isn’t it?”

When their questions did not elicit any response, Jarrod walked over behind the young man by the window and placed his hand on his shoulder. “Heath?”

After another pause, they heard him reply, “The Lansings, the whole family, all because Arly refused to pay Garner. I wasn’t there, ‘n those men never gave ‘em a chance.” He stared out the window, but the sights his eyes saw were miles away and weeks ago.

Jarrod remained standing beside him, as Heath fought with his headache and the overwhelming memories of discovering the dead family, of burying them afterwards.

“You knew them?” Jarrod asked. “They were friends of yours over in Markleeville?”

“Worked for Arly for a few weeks before I came here. Before that I broke horses, various places, sometimes for Garner if our paths happened ta cross.” Heath remained staring out the window.

“A wire came from Markleeville, so I asked some questions in the back, there.” The sheriff spoke up and pointed toward the cells, “A couple of those men, they say you were riding with Garner and three others. That the five of you killed that family.”

Nick had been quiet as long as he could stand it. At the sheriff’s words, he leaped to his feet and crossed the room to stand in front of Liam. “He did not do what they said he did. I guess they named three others that are now dead, didn’t they? You know they’d say anything to get out of your jail, out of a hanging!”

“Nick, that’s enough!” Jarrod said.

“But, Jarrod, he helped put those men in that jail, and they can’t be happy about that! He didn’t do anything to belong in there with them!” Nick bellowed.

“Liam knows Heath didn’t do what they said he did, don’t you, Sheriff?” Jarrod said emphatically.

Speaking as if Nick and Heath were not even in the room, Liam said, “Jarrod, I don’t know what to believe. I don’t think I have enough to put him in with those men, but I can’t get past the fact that he took off when we found him at Jamie Drumm’s, when I was trying to arrest him and bring him back here to jail. And now this!” Liam finished.

Turning back to the man beside him at the window, Jarrod asked quietly, “Heath? What did you mean when you said you came here because Garner’s men had killed before?”

Heath took a deep breath and turned around to face the sheriff. “I buried that family, those two kids, Sheriff, I didn’t murder them. . . . John Ashton, the sheriff over in Markleeville, he figured Garner ‘n his men might’ve had somethin’ ta do with the murder’a that family, . . .might’ve had somethin’ ta do with the gang that was scarin’ farmers. . . inta payin’ protection money. . . . But, John didn’t have enough evidence ta arrest ‘em. . . . I had worked for Garner before, . . . . so I came here ta find out. . . find out if they were doin’ the same thing here.”

The longer he talked, the more he had to pause for breath. Taking a longer now as he struggled for more air, Heath continued, “When I found out they had threatened the Drumms and the Barkleys. . . ”

The coughing caught Heath by surprise and nearly sent him to his knees. Leaning more on Jarrod than he wanted to, he was staggered by the searing pain that the wracking cough sent straight through his side and into his head.

Grabbing him by the arm, Jarrod propelled Heath into the closest chair, and Nick poured a quick cup of water. Resting his head in his hands, Heath kept his eyes closed and concentrated on getting his breathing under control.

“I’ll get Doc Merar,” Nick said, but he was stopped in his tracks by Heath’s voice.

“Nick. . . . Don’t. . . . It’s okay.” Heath said, breathing hard. “My. . . saddlebags. . . please, Nick.” After a pause, in which the only sound was Heath’s ragged breathing, he added quietly, “Wire Sheriff Ashton. . . . in Markleeville. . . . He’ll tell ya.”

Nick bounded out the door, returned with Heath’s saddlebags, and set them down at his feet.

With all three men staring down at him, Heath just continued to hold his head between his hands. Without looking up, he said, “In the bottom . . . . bandana.”

Nick checked first one, then the other. Finally, he pulled out a folded, blue bandana, unwrapped it, and looked at its contents. Wrapping it back up, he stood and held out the cloth, and the object inside, to the sheriff.

With a puzzled expression, Liam Forrest took it and opened the cloth parcel. In his surprise, he nearly dropped the object when he saw it. In silence, he passed the pointed metal badge to Jarrod.

As the lawyer read the words ‘Markleeville’ and ‘Deputy’ on the tin star, Nick was already impatiently pushing the sheriff for closure. “Any more questions, Sheriff?” he bellowed, his hands on his hips and a dazzling grin on his face.

Liam sat down at his desk and shook his head. “No, Boys, you can go. Thanks for coming in.” With another shake of his head, he finished, “You can take this brother of yours home whenever he’s ready.”

Pushing off of the arms of the wooden chair, Heath rose carefully to his feet. Nick tossed the bags over his own shoulder and opened the door to leave. “Like the sheriff said, let’s go home, Boys!”

Jarrod, still stunned, caught himself and said, “Heath, wait a minute. My office is right down the street. Why don’t we go there first? You can rest a while . . . .”

The sideways look from Heath silenced the offer before it was finished. “No, thanks, Jarrod.” Then, he flashed that lop-sided grin, and said, “I promised your mother. . . a long talk when this was over, . . . and that’s one lady I have no intention of ever disappointin’.”

With Jarrod trailing behind them, Heath managed to mount without any assistance from Nick. “I’m going to check on the wires I sent yesterday, Nick. Do you think you two can find your way home without me? I’ve got a few things to do here before I join you,” Jarrod shared.

Nodding, Nick said, “Come on, Heath. After your talk, you and me, we’ve got a ranch to run!”

* * * * * * * *

In the alley behind the jail, a lone figure had been sitting in the shade whittling on a stick. Every so often, he wandered around the edge of the building to glance at the horses near the door to the sheriff’s office. He came around the corner the last time to see two of the horses being ridden down the street. He smiled when he realized he had been right about the identity of the little black mare; he recognized the one rider even from the back as the pair rode away from the jail. Then, he immediately noticed that the sheriff and another man were walking together, also headed away from the jail.

* * * * * * * *

The sun was beginning to beat down unmercifully as Sheriff Forrest and Jarrod Barkley emerged from the telegraph office together. They headed back toward the center of town on foot. As they approached the entrance to the Cattlemen’s, Liam offered to buy an early lunch.

“Come on, Jarrod,” the sheriff explained, “You were right all along, and I should have listened. Let me buy your lunch, and then I can get started on the paperwork for turning those three over to Sheriff Ashton.”

“Uh, Sheriff,” Jarrod responded, “If that is your way of making an apology, you’re making it to the wrong Barkley. Heath is the one that needs to hear that you think you were wrong, not me.” Seeing the sheriff’s expression, Jarrod added, “But, I will take you up on the offer for lunch. He just might want his in a different form, like maybe a personal delivery and return of his Winchester and Colt as a start.”

Chagrined, the sheriff held the door open and said, “I’ll make that one of my top priorities today, Jarrod. After you, Counselor.”

As they entered and found a table away from the door and along a wall on the right, Liam added, “I know you think I should have already returned his weapons to him. I just needed to be sure, first. Receiving that reply to the telegram you sent yesterday relieved my mind completely.”

As he picked up his menu, he said, “I just wish Ashton had been around earlier in the week to let us know that Heath Thomson, uhhh, Heath Barkley, had been temporarily deputized to try to get some answers about that gang. It would have made a big difference to me. Why didn’t he just tell us himself?”

“I don’t know, Liam. That question has crossed my mind a few times in the last hour. In my limited experience with this new brother of mine, I have found him to be very hard to pry information out of.” Pausing, Jarrod thought back over the last few days.

Distracted by the process of ordering lunch, he returned to his thoughts while the sheriff sat back and watched the other folks in the room. Finally, Jarrod offered, “Now it’s all beginning to make more sense. You see, Liam, apparently Heath didn’t know his father was Tom Barkley until he saw a picture of my father hanging in our house the other night. As for the rest of us, we didn’t know about Heath at all until this week. As soon as my mother saw him, she recognized that he is the spitting image of a younger Tom Barkley than any of us remember. This has all come as quite a shock to us, including Heath, I think. But with the events of the last few days, it hasn’t taken us long to realize he not only looks like my, like our father, he has some of the best characteristics of Tom Barkley, as well.”

“Well, Jarrod, I haven’t been here in the valley all that long, so I didn’t know your father personally, only by reputation after he was killed. But I do know you and Nick, and I’d say that boy has a great deal in common with both of you,” Liam said.

“How so, Sheriff?” Jarrod asked.

“Jarrod, with what we now know about him, he came here to get information and evidence about something that had already happened to a family over in Markleeville, right? But, in the end, he wound up helping to prevent a lot of tragedy for at least three families here, the Davis family, Drumms, and the Barkleys.” The sheriff added, “If you or Nick had been in his place, you would have done the exact same thing, now wouldn’t you?”

Jarrod thought about this question for a few minutes as he automatically smiled and accepted the plate of chicken and vegetables from a smiling woman wearing a light green apron. “I guess maybe you’re right, Sheriff. I know Nick wouldn’t have stood by and let anyone be hurt if he thought he could prevent it, and well, I wouldn’t have been able to come in shooting like Heath apparently did at the Drumm’s. But, yes, I would have found a way to stop them from carrying out their threats if I could have.”

Nodding his head as the idea seemed to fit better and better with his knowledge of his own family, Jarrod added sadly, but with pride, “My father was like that. In fact, that determination to do the right thing by other people is what got him killed in the end.”

Much of their lunch was eaten in silence after that. Jarrod, for his part, was glad that the sheriff didn’t seem interested in asking questions that he did not have answers for, questions that still had not received answers, as far as he knew. They just needed more time to get to know the blond-haired young man before they would feel comfortable asking more from him than he wanted to give.

And, he had already given so much.

With a start, Jarrod realized that, though he knew no details about the hows or whys of Heath’s existence, he had no doubts that he was his brother, had had no doubts from the first. Somehow, in the last few days and without even being aware of it, the blond cowboy had proven himself every inch a son of Tom Barkley.

Quietly, Jarrod added aloud, answering the one question still lingering between them, “Liam, I guess he didn’t say anything because he still didn’t completely trust any of us. Apparently, he has had good reason not to trust in his life. . . . .”

Anything else he had been planning to say was lost in the intervening chaos. Muffled shots were heard over the din in the restaurant. As they ran to the doorway, Liam and Jarrod heard shouts and saw people running. Stepping into the street, Liam was grabbed by a storekeeper who yelled, “Sheriff, your deputy, Jason, he’s been shot! Those men broke out of jail not two minutes ago!”

Running toward his office, Sheriff Liam Forrest desperately hoped that he would find young Jason to be only wounded. “I’ll get the doctor, Liam!” Jarrod shouted as he veered off and ran in another direction.

Reaching his office, the sheriff was immensely relieved to see the brown eyes of his deputy looking up at him as two citizens carried him out the door and toward the doctor’s office. Walking along with them, Jason’s hand gripping Liam’s vest, he heard a few of the details about what had happened. By the time Jarrod arrived with the doctor, Jason had closed his eyes, but was still breathing.

“Save your strength, Jason. You just rest, now,” the sheriff stated firmly. “We’ll get some men together and go after them. You’ve given me enough to go on.” As the other men carried the wounded deputy up the steps of the doctor’s office, the sheriff added, “It wasn’t your fault, Jason. We’ll catch them, don’t worry.”

Turning, he looked at Jarrod and the men who had gathered behind him. “They had help from one man, so there are four of them, now. Let’s get after them!”

Continued…