Author Notes: This is my first, and probably only, Big Valley story. I thought about posting it to a show-specific community, but the only other idea I ever came up with was an aborted cross-over with Alias Smith and Jones, so it seemed wrong to just post and run :) But who knows - now that the show is on DVD, I might pick-up the series again and become inspired.

Disclaimer: I actually have no idea who holds the copyright on this show now, but it's not me.

IN STEP

It was suppertime, but the Barkley table was only half-full. Of the four Barkley sons, only the eldest Jarrod was at home to join his mother and sister for the evening meal. Youngest brother Eugene was in Berkeley studying and Heath was up at the north line shack preparing for the winter pasture. He'd sent word the day before that he was planning on staying an extra week to try and trap some wild mustangs he'd spotted.

Jarrod was fairly certain that was why the third chair was empty. Nick had been upset when he'd learned that his brother wouldn't be returning on schedule, blustering that there was too much work to do for Heath to be wasting his time chasing horses. Jarrod thought, however, that his fiery brother's sour mood had little to do with a heavy workload.

Victoria looked pointedly at the chair her second son usually filled. "Did Nick tell anybody that he wouldn't be home for supper?"

"I don't think we'll be seeing Nick today, Mother. It's a long ride up to the north pasture."

"Why would he ride up to the north pasture?" Audra asked. "Heath said he didn't need any help."

"I think Nick was counting on seeing Heath today," Jarrod said, "and we all know Brother Nick doesn't like to be disappointed. So if the mountain will not come to Mohammed, Mohammed will go to the mountain."

Audra giggled. "Poor Nick. He was grumpy last night, wasn't he? He didn't want Heath to go up to the line shack in the first place."

"I have the feeling Heath volunteered to go up there to get out from under Nick's thumb," Jarrod mused. "Nick's barely let Heath out of his sight since he came back from the trail drive." He shook his head, marvelling at what a difference just a few weeks had made. "Ironic, isn't it? Nick fought so hard not to accept Heath and now he can't stand to be separated from him for a week."

"That's your brother," Victoria replied, a smile dancing in her eyes. "He doesn't do anything half-way."

"Well, if he's not careful, Nick's going to drive Heath away for more than a couple of weeks," Jarrod said thoughtfully. "Even when you're used to him Nick can be a little intense. He must be overwhelming to someone as quiet as Heath."

Audra laughed again. "I wouldn't worry about Heath. He told me he'd spent so much time alone he was sick of the sound of his own voice. Said it was nice to hear nothing but someone else's for a change." Her expression turned serious. "Besides, he fought too hard to be part of this family. He wouldn't just give it up." But Jarrod could hear an undertone of uncertainty in her voice and it fed his own fears that one morning he'd wake up and his blond brother would have ridden away as abruptly as he'd arrived.

"No, he wouldn't," Victoria said with an assurance that quieted some of Jarrod's fears. "Heath fought just as hard to win Nick over as Nick fought to deny him, because he knew he was fighting for something worth having. And I wouldn't worry about Nick overwhelming Heath. He may be quiet, but I don't think he's easily intimidated."

Jarrod had to acknowledge the truth of that. He smiled at the memory of Heath that first night wielding a broken bottle as he faced down his brothers, passionately stating his case, then coolly rejecting the bribe Jarrod offered him. He would never forget the sardonic smile and dismissive half-wave as Heath stalked out of the study. Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if Audra hadn't followed him to Stockton, whether Heath would have just ridden away the next morning or if he would have pressed his claim. It was the kind of thought that woke him late at night in a cold sweat. "I just hope he knows how much he means to us, how empty our lives would be without him."

Victoria reached across the table and patted his hand. "If he doesn't, we'll tell him. And we'll keep on telling him until he believes it deep in his heart."

It never ceased to amaze Jarrod how quickly his mother had taken Heath into her own heart. The encounter with the Simmons in Strawberry had cemented their bond, but Victoria had been Heath's strongest advocate from the beginning, insisting that his claim be considered, investigated and then accepted. What should have been a constant reminder of her husband's betrayal, somehow seemed to give Victoria comfort, as if the tangible proof of Tom's humanity and fallibility kept him alive in her memory.

As for Heath, he had given his heart unconditionally to the woman who treated him as if he were her own flesh and blood. Jarrod knew that there was nothing this new brother of his wouldn't do if Victoria asked him.

His thoughts were interrupted by someone pounding on the front door. Glancing at his mother, he pushed his chair back and hurried to answer. Throwing open the door, he was stunned to see Ciego kneeling over the body of his brother Nick. "Oh my god," he whispered, bending down to reassure himself that Nick was unconscious and not dead. His mind registered a blur of motion out of the corner of his eye, but he was too focused on his brother to spare it a second thought.

"Mother, Audra!" he called. "Nick's hurt."

Victoria was at his side quickly, assessing her son's condition. "Audra, get some water and bandages and take them to Nick's room." She ran her hands along Nick's back and neck, feeling for anything broken or misaligned. "That cut on his head seems to be the worst of it," she determined. "I think it's safe to move him."

"Help me get him upstairs," Jarrod directed, grabbing Nick's legs, while Ciego lifted Nick's upper body. The two men struggled to get the lanky rancher up the stairs and gently settled onto his bed. Audra had turned down the covers and was waiting impatiently with a cloth and a bottle of liniment.

Ciego hurried out the door, promising that he would bring back Doctor Merar as quickly as he could. But they barely had Nick settled before he blinked open his eyes. Groaning, he reached up to rub at his temple.

Jarrod grabbed his hand and pulled it away, allowing Victoria to dab at the cut with a damp towel. "Take it easy, Nick. You've had a bad knock to the head."

"Hurts," Nick muttered, closing his eyes, then opening them again to look at Victoria. "I'm home? I guess we made it. I owe you one, little brother."

Jarrod frowned, worried about this obvious disorientation. "You're home, Nick. Ciego's gone to get the doctor. Can you tell us what happened?"

"Heath didn't tell you?" Nick's eyes darted about the room, flickering from one face to another. .

Jarrod frowned. "Heath?"

Nick closed his eyes "You know. Blond guy, doesn't talk much."

Jarrod looked at his mother, who shook her head. "He's not here."

Nick's eyes snapped back open, filled with panic. "Of course he is. He brought me in."

Jarrod was beginning to share his brother's panic, but he struggled to keep his voice calm. "Nick, I haven't seen Heath since he left for the line shack last week."

Heedless of his injuries, Nick sat up and tried to throw back the covers. It took all of Jarrod's strength to hold his brother down. "Calm down, Nick. You're going to hurt yourself."

"Let me go, Jarrod," Nick cried. "He was with me. He put me on Coco, rode behind me. He held me on. He's gotta be here."

Jarrod and Victoria exchanged a worried look. Heath would never leave an injured Nick alone. Unless something had happened to him as well. He remembered the blur of motion in the yard, and wondered if that had been his younger brother. "Was Heath hurt too?" Jarrod asked, a knot starting to twist in his guts.

Nick shook his head, but his words did nothing to relieve Jarrod's concern. "He said he wasn't, but that doesn't mean anything. He twisted his knee in round up and still worked a full day. Said he didn't need two good legs to ride when I tried to send him home." He frowned, as if he were trying to stare down an elusive memory. "Last thing I remember, he told Ciego he would look after the horses…" His voice trailed away and he sagged back down and covered his face with his hands. "Oh god, he went back. I told him to wait. I said we'd do it together. He shouldn't do it alone."

Victoria tugged his hands away gently. "Nick, I don't understand," she said, trying to soothe him with her voice. "Where has he gone?"

Nick looked up at her, his eyes dark with unshed tears. "To bury Gal."

Audra, who had been standing quietly by the door, gave a sharp cry. "Oh, Heath. Not Gal. Not his pony."

Jarrod stood up and looked outside the window, as if he could see his younger brother somewhere out in the dark night.

"What happened, Nick?" Victoria asked, running her hand up and down her son's arm. Nick shuddered beneath her touch, close to breaking down.

"It's my fault," he whispered and turned his face away from her.

"Of course it's not your fault, sweetheart," she murmured. "Tell us what happened so we can help Heath."

"I was up north pasture way this afternoon, so I thought I'd ride up to the line shack," Nick said, no longer whispering, but his voice still muted with despair. "I just wanted to run some ideas past him about the new stock." His eyes darkened. "He didn't see it that way, though. Thought I was checking up on him, that I didn't trust him."

"You didn't fight, did you?" Jarrod asked, remembering the violent confrontations between the two men when Heath first arrived on the ranch. Every other day it seemed as though they would end up in a knockdown brawl. Things had changed after Victoria and Heath returned from Strawberry with definitive proof of Heath's parentage. Nick let go of his anger towards their father and discovered the perfect companion in Heath. They still fought, but with – not against – each other.

Jarrod often thought of his younger brothers as two magnets, their like anger and resentment repelling each other until, accepting their differences, they found a commonality that bound them together with a force stronger than gravity.

"No, we didn't fight," Nick snapped.

Jarrod was glad to see his brother's temper spark, but he privately thought their ideas of fighting were vastly different. Nick defined a fight with the use of his fists, but Jarrod, as a lawyer, understood that words were just as potent a weapon.

"I told him he was an idiot," Nick continued, confirming Jarrod's suspicions. "He didn't like that much either," he added with a slight smile, and Jarrod remembered that his hotheaded brother was more perceptive than he often gave him credit.

"I told him I just wanted to talk to him, see how he was doing. I thought he might have appreciated some company." Again the knowing smile. "I guess maybe I just wanted the company."

"You missed him," Victoria said, rubbing his shoulder gently.

Nick turned back to look at her, a look of surprise filling his hazel eyes, lightening some of the sorrow. "Yeah," he said, wondering. "It's funny. Three months ago I didn't know who he was. Now I can't stand being separated from him for a few days."

"Not so funny," Jarrod remarked. "We've got a lot of years to catch up on with him. It's hard to let him go for even one day."

"He sure doesn't let go," Nick muttered, closing his eyes and seeming to drift back to sleep.

He loved to watch his brother work. There was something so pure in his movements, such an easy natural grace, that it was almost like watching a dance. Heath was repairing the fence line, digging holes for new posts and his muscles rippled under his sweat-soaked shirt with each arc of the shovel. It was one of the first sunny days after a week of near-constant rain and Heath was clearly working hard to catch up with the outdoor repairs. As Nick approached, he put down the shovel and wiped his face with a bandanna, then took a long drink from his canteen.

Nick knew better than to surprise his younger brother – the last time he'd tried to sneak up on Heath he'd found himself staring into the business end of his brother's pistol. "Taking a break already?" he bellowed, watching Heath's back muscles tense and then relax. "This is a working ranch. I didn't send you up here to laze around in the sun all day." He strode over to his brother, a broad smile on his face.

Heath didn't return his smile. "Kinda out of your way, aren't you Nick?" he commented, not looking at all pleased to see his older brother. "You know, if you don't trust me to do the job, you shouldn't send me to do it. Leastways it would save you some riding."

"Don't be an idiot," Nick snapped, then watched with surprise as Heath's features shuttered and he turned back to the fence line. "Don't turn your back on me, boy."

Heath faced him, his expression still schooled, but the tension clear in his stiff posture. "You can insult me all you want, but that don't mean I have to listen to it."

Nick ran a hand through his hair, wondering why every conversation he had with Heath was like walking through a minefield. "I didn't come here to insult you," he said, "I came to talk to you about the new herd. You're more prickly than a scared porcupine."

All the tension seemed to drain out of Heath's body and a rueful half-smile played across his lips. "Sorry about that, Nick. Guess I'm just not used to the boss riding ten miles just to chat."

"I'm not the boss, I'm your brother."

The smile grew wider and Nick found himself grinning back. "I reckon you're both. But either way, since you came all the way out here, you can give me a hand closing off this break."

"If you put it that way, maybe I'll just ride back to the ranch," Nick threatened, but the smile on his face belied his words. It was strange. This little brother of his provoked the widest array of feelings in him – frustration, respect, anger, love – as if a lifetime of emotions were playing out in just a few months.

This past week he had continually found himself turning to get Heath's opinion on a problem or question, only to remember that his brother was miles away. Sometimes he wondered what he had done before the blond cowboy rode onto the ranch to claim his birthright. As much as he loved Jarrod and Eugene, Heath completed him in a way his other brothers never would. Heath understood his fierce love of the Barkley land, the satisfaction that could only come from sweat and pain and long days under the open sky. Heath might not talk much, but he felt the same things Nick did.

"Suit yourself." Heath shrugged and picked up a post and lowered it into the hole, propping it against his shoulder as he pushed dirt around the base.

Nick gave an exaggerated sigh, then moved to hold the post steady. Heath grinned up at him and Nick realised ruefully that his younger brother knew exactly how he'd react. "You're worse than Jarrod," he grumbled. "He can talk me into anything, but you don't even have to say a word to get me to do just what you want."

"I wouldn't say that, Nick," Heath replied anchoring the post. "You're just doing the sensible thing. Just because I always figure out what that is before you…" He ducked as Nick cuffed him on the crown of his head. "Why don't you do something useful with those hands and pound the post in."

"You trust me to swing a mallet in your direction?" Nick asked, absently patting the head he'd just smacked.

Heath chuckled. "I wouldn't trust you to hold your mother's crystal, but a mallet? Yeah, I reckon that's safe enough."

Nick reached for the mallet, wondering why Heath's words made him uneasy. "Can I ask you a question?"

"You just did."

Take a deep breath and count to ten. That's what his father had always told him. It had never worked, but then most of the people who riled him didn't give him time to count to ten. Heath, on the other hand, probably wouldn't notice if he counted to one hundred. "Why did you say 'your mother'?"

Heath stood up and brushed his hands on his pants. "That's who she is."

Nick puzzled out how to explain his confusion. Jarrod wouldn't have a problem finding the words. He'd just find too many and confuse everybody more. "You call her Mother. Why don't you refer to her as Mother?"

"I call her Mother because she asked me to and I'd do just about anything she asked."

"But you don't think of her as your mother?"

"I didn't say that." Heath refused to meet Nick's gaze, a sure sign that he was uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was heading. "It just doesn't seem respectful calling her Mother to you or the others. It'd be like claiming something I don't have the right to."

"And if I said you had the right?"

Heath shook his head. "I can't ask that of you."

"You don't have to ask. We're family. All of us." He paused and reviewed the conversation, looking for a different path. "You said you call her Mother because she asked you to. Does it bother you that she asked?"

"A fellow would be pretty lucky to have her as a mother."

Heath was an elusive quarry, but Nick had spent enough years listening to his older brother corner witnesses to know how to pin his younger brother down. "Well I know for a fact that she thinks she's pretty lucky to have you for a son. The funny thing is, you're more like her than any of us. Strong and brave, but gentle too. I guess that's what comes from being raised by a strong and brave and gentle woman."

Heath knelt beside the post again, but not before Nick saw a shy smile quirk the corners of his mouth.

"No one's asking you to forget Leah," Nick pressed, but without his usual bluster, sensing that he was close to something very special. "But I know there's more than enough room in that big heart of yours for two mothers." He hefted the mallet and brought it down hard on the post, driving the wood deeper into the ground and causing Heath to yelp as the blow vibrated through his hands.

"Damnit, Nick, give a body some warning." Heath shook his head and gripped the post firmly. "I take it back. You're a menace with anything."

Nick laughed. "I'm a menace all right. A menace to little brothers who lollygag around all day expecting me to do their work."

"You're more than welcome to ride back," Heath offered, wincing as the next blow shuddered through the post. "I was just getting used to the peace and quiet again. You surely are a menace to eardrums."

Nick grunted as he tested the post for stability. "I like to make myself clear."

Heath sat back on his heels and chuckled. "According to Mother, you were born yelling and you just never stopped."

Nick didn't say anything, but he let his hand rest on top of the blond head for a moment. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

Jarrod was relieved to see his brother's hazel eyes open again. "Nick, can you tell us where Heath went? Did he go back to the line shack?"

Instead of answering, Nick kicked the covers free and sat up. Before Jarrod could grab him, he was standing on shaky legs and reaching for his gun belt.

"Where do you think you're going?" Victoria asked sternly, placing her body between Nick and the door.

"I told him we'd do it together. I don't go back on my word."

"Nick, you're hurt." Jarrod moved around the bed and held Nick's shoulders, gently forcing him back down onto the bed. "You're not going anywhere until the doctor has examined you."

Nick dropped his head into his hands. "Why did he ride off like that? Why didn't he wait for me?"

Victoria sat down on the edge of the bed next to him. "Nick, sweetheart, you have to remember what a private man your brother is. Maybe this is something he feels he has to do by himself."

"If he needed our help he would have asked for it, Nick." But even as he said the words, Jarrod wasn't sure they were true. He couldn't think of one occasion when Heath had asked for his assistance.

Just last week, he had been standing outside the bank, chatting with Sam Burgess and Dave Parker when Burgess tapped him on the arm and pointed across the street. "Looks like your brother could use a hand."

Jarrod had turned to see Heath wrestling a feedbag into the wagon. He'd hurried across the street and grabbed an end, just as it was about to roll back off the wagon, and helped Heath load it and the rest of the supplies on. "Didn't you see me?" he'd asked, once everything was secured to Heath's satisfaction.

Heath had just shrugged. "You looked busy."

Jarrod hadn't given it another thought at the time, just slapped Heath on the back and told him to call him the next time. There hadn't been a next time – or if there had, Heath hadn't called. He looked across the bed out the window again. The thought of his younger brother out there, burying his beloved horse, shouldering the grief all alone, was almost unbearable.

"He doesn't understand," Nick said, interrupting his thoughts. "He doesn't understand that he doesn't have to do it by himself anymore. I told him that's what families are for, but he won't ask for our help." He paused and rubbed his hands over his face. "He won't ask us for anything he doesn't think he has the right to."

"Give him time, Nick," Victoria soothed, though sorrow was dark in her eyes as well. "He's been on his own since he was barely fourteen. He needs to learn how to be part of a family again. How to be a brother."

"He knows how to be a brother," Audra said softly. "He's been a brother to me since the very first day."

Jarrod saw the tears pooling in her eyes and wrapped his arms around her. "You're right. And I know how much he loves being your big brother. But we need to do a better job teaching him how to be a little brother." He stroked her hair gently, feeling hot tears against his neck. "He knows how much you love him, Audra." He looked at his brother, who seemed on the verge of tears himself, and wondered how someone they'd only know for a few months could carve such a deep place in all their hearts. "Where is he, Nick? Has he gone back to the line shack?"

Nick shook his head, wincing, and closed his eyes again.

It still surprised him, even after three months, how right it felt working side by side with Heath. Even before the trail drive, Nick had been forced to admit that this new brother of his was a tireless and skilled worker. And when the reports came back of what he'd done on the drive, how he'd unmasked and defeated Wallant and earned the respect of every man under his command, he'd realised that in Heath he'd found the partner who could help him fill the shoes his father had left behind.

Once Nick stopped fighting Heath, fighting the truth, they had fallen into a comfortable routine. Nick got into the habit of spending at least part of the day working with his younger brother, finding unexpected serenity in Heath's quiet company as they worked side by side and perfectly in step. Heath tolerated Nick's constant commentary with surprising patience until Nick discovered that he didn't have to fill the awkward silence with a stream of words, because the silence was no longer awkward. For the first time since his father's death, Nick had found someone who knew what he needed before he asked, who anticipated a task before it was assigned.

"Why don't you show me those mustangs you saw," Nick suggested once the fence was fixed.

"I thought you came up here to talk about the new herd."

Heath was looking at him suspiciously again and Nick felt himself flush. "New herd, new horses. Same thing."

Heath put down his shovel and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "You don't believe me, do you? You think I made up those horses to get out of coming back to the ranch. You think I'm not pulling my weight."

Nick felt his temper spark, forgetting that just a few weeks ago he would have accused Heath of exactly that. "I want to see the damn horses. I want to know what the hell is worth you spending another week away from home." Even as the words left his mouth, he knew he was confirming Heath's suspicions. "Aw, hell, Heath, that's not how I meant it."

"Just how did you mean it, then?" The shutter dropped over Heath's features again and his blue eyes were unnaturally expressionless. It was the same look he got when someone called him a bastard or sneered about Tom Barkley's backwoods colt. It hurt Nick to realize that this time he was the one who put the look on his brother's face.

"I don't know." Nick wanted to pull his hair out in frustration. Why couldn't talking with Heath be as easy as working with him? "I just want you to come home."

Heath relaxed a little, a flicker of bemusement enlivening his eyes. "I don't know what you've got your knickers in a knot about. I sent Scotty back down so you wouldn't be shorthanded. You don't need me."

Nick groaned aloud. "You don't get it, do you? I'm not talking about the ranch; I'm talking about home. I need you home, little brother." There was something else in the eyes now, a wonder that emboldened Nick to say more. "I miss you, you idiot."

"You got a funny way of expressing your affection, Nick," Heath replied, but he was smiling.

"It's not the same without you hanging around monopolizing the conversation," Nick teased. "It's not so bad when I'm working, but at night there's just Jarrod to beat at billiards, and Audra's always bugging me to play checkers, and Mother seems so sad."

Heath's eyes darkened and Nick continued quickly. "Stop thinking what you're thinking. She misses you, that's all."

"I meant what I said," Heath replied fiercely. "If I thought my being on the ranch was hurting your mother, I'd leave in an instant."

One step forward, two steps back, Nick thought. "You being on the ranch is the best thing that ever happened to any of us, so you can just shut up about leaving." Heath raised an eyebrow eloquently and Nick winced. He was used to Jarrod twisting his well-meant words around with infuriating circular logic, but this new brother of his didn't even have to say a word to have him second-guessing everything he said. He backtracked, trying to explain. "Last night I sat there thinking, 'This is how it used to be'. We thought we were doing okay. But we weren't. We were lost without father. I know you hate it when we compare you to him, but when you came, you brought him back to us."

Heath looked away, his expression carefully neutral.

"For years after he died, I couldn't understand how he'd done it, how he'd run the ranch by himself, when every day I was struggling just to keep things going. And then I realised that he hadn't done it all by himself. He'd had me by his side. I couldn't be both me and him." He could tell he had Heath's attention now, even though the younger man was still looking away. "But the two of us together can do it."

That broke through the mask enough for the half-smile to shine through and Nick pressed on. "It's not just me, though. You've picked up things that Jarrod had to cover, letting him spend more time with his practice. Gene no longer feels that he has to come back to the ranch when he graduates, which frees him up to be a doctor or a vet or whatever the hell it is he wants to do these days. And Audra. She might complain about having another older brother riding herd on her, but she's adored you since the first night you rescued her from those Stockton toughs."

Heath chuckled. "She sure was a sight to behold. Swinging that whip like she was cutting wheat."

Nick shook his head, imagining his little sister wielding her riding crop at the drunken rawhiders. As horrified as he'd been when he learned about her late-night expedition to town, he'd had a hard time hiding his delight in her spirit. "She ran wild after Father died. None of us could do anything with her. But she listens to you. Gene and Jarrod and I have always been her interfering brothers. But you were her friend first and that's made all the difference."

All the tension seemed to leave Heath as Nick's words sunk in. Jarrod might have been the first to accept Heath, but Audra was the first to love him. That too made all the difference. But then just as suddenly the tension returned and Heath looked down. "Why is Mother sad?"

At least, Nick thought, he's back to calling her Mother. "How many times have I got to tell you? She misses you."

Heath shook his head. "Missing somebody don't make you sad. Especially when you know they're coming back."

"But Father isn't coming back." Nick wondered if he'd said that wrong thing once again. It didn't seem possible for a body to get tenser than Heath's without shattering from the stress. "Last night I watched her gazing at Father's portrait and I realized I hadn't seen her doing that since you arrived. She doesn't miss him as much when you're around."

"I can't be him, Nick. Not even for her." The pain in his little brother's voice cut straight to Nick's heart.

"Nobody expect you to be him. But you're part of him whether you like it or not." He grabbed hold of Heath's upper arms, kneading the tight muscles. "I know it's not much comfort to you, but it means the world to the rest of us."

For a moment Nick thought Heath would protest or turn away. Then finally he nodded and patted Nick on the shoulder. "I guess since you took the trouble to ride all the way up here, I could show you what's been keeping me. It was supposed to be a surprise, but I can already tell trying keeping a secret from you would be more trouble than it's worth." He bent over and picked up his hat, then strolled towards the line shack. "Well, come on," he called back, as Nick remained standing still. "I don't guess you rode all the way up here just to stand around when there's work to be done."

Nick grinned and jogged after his brother, draping an arm around his shoulder when he reached his side. "This is a working ranch, after all," he crowed, chuckling at himself.

They walked around the corner of the line shack and Nick stopped abruptly when he saw the corral. Heath's Modoc pony grazed in the smaller pen, but it was the occupant of the larger pen that grabbed Nick's attention. It was a bay stallion, one of the most beautiful animals Nick had ever seen. As the two men approached it snorted and reared, but didn't retreat. They halted at a respectful distance and Nick studied the horse's lines.

"He's a beauty, ain't he," Heath said, his eyes shining with admiration.

There were times when Nick thought Heath would be happier surrounded solely by horses. "He sure is. I guess I can understand why you might want to stick around awhile longer. There more like him?"

"Couple of good mares. Make a nice addition to our breeding stock." He paused and gazed at Nick speculatively. "Seeing as how you're here, why don't we ride out to see if we can round 'em up? Should be easier to catch now we've got this fellow penned up."

Nick had been thinking just that, but having Heath suggest it first filled him with a sense of rightness. He whistled and Coco trotted up to him. "What are you waiting for? Saddle up that pony of yours. We got some horses to catch."

"He found a wild herd up in the canyon past Gallagher's Creek," Nick said, his eyes still closed. "He'd already caught one of the stallions. A big, beautiful bay. One of the finest horses I've ever seen. He'll be perfect for Heath once we get him trained."

Jarrod smiled. It was just like Nick to be thinking of a new horse for Heath.

"I know he loved that pony of his," Nick continued, blinking his hazel eyes open again. "But Heath and that bay sure will be a sight to see together. I can't think of a finer thing than that boy on horseback. I tell you Jarrod, watching Heath ride is better than any of those fancy poems you like to read."

Lines from a favourite poem flashed through Jarrod's head:

When can their glory fade?

O the wild charge they made!

He remembered the first time he had seen Heath, racing his Modoc against the train. It had been a transcendent moment; that lone rider a physical embodiment of Jarrod's own fight against the railroad. He had made the bet with Crowne not for the money, but as a statement of faith. When Heath had ridden up to take a stand with them at Sample's Farm it had only cemented the kinship he had begun to sense as he watched a stranger make his own statement of faith in that wild charge alongside the tracks.

"You forget, Brother Nick, the first time I ever saw Heath he was riding. It's not something I'll forget anytime soon." It was an image he knew he'd carry to his grave – flesh and blood against steel, man triumphing over machine.

"Funny how things work out," Nick said. "I wonder what would have happened if you hadn't made a bundle off that bet and told me to hire him. Would he have just ridden off? Would he even have said anything if I hadn't practically beaten it out of him?"

Jarrod started, realizing that Nick's thoughts were turning the same way his had been running earlier. The string of events that had brought Heath into their home could so easily have snapped. Instead it had bound him to them tightly. "He came looking for us. Whether it was for the name, or the money, or the family, it was important enough for him to leave a good job and ride all the way out here. I'm not one to believe in fate, but it seems to me that Heath was meant to be part of this family."

A smile softened the lines of Nick's face. "Do you remember how he smashed that bottle to keep us back? Funny thing, mad as I was, I never thought he'd use it on us. But it sure gave me pause." He frowned. "I wasn't afraid of him. Threatened, I suppose – though by what he represented, not who he was."

Audra giggled. "He sure was something that night. 'I have had me a day,'" she quoted, with a surprisingly good imitation of Heath's low drawl.

Jarrod pulled away until he held her at arms length. "You heard that?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if they heard it in Stockton," Victoria replied dryly. "Between Nick shouting and Heath smashing that bottle, it wasn't exactly something you could sleep through."

Jarrod was horrified. He had always suspected that Audra heard part of the confrontation, but he had hoped his mother had been spared learning of her husband's infidelity in that manner. He knew that she had spoken with Heath after the fire at Swenson's farm, but neither of them had ever mentioned what had been said. Still, it had planted the seeds of a bond between them that transcended blood. More than anything, he suspected, it was that meeting that had made the difference in bringing Heath into their home. He pulled Audra close again, brushing his lips across the crown of her head.

Audra rested her head against Jarrod's shoulder. "I was angry with him when I followed him to town, but I admired him too. Standing up to the three of you like that took guts."

"You were very foolish," Victoria scolded. "Chasing after a strange man like that. What if he hadn't been your brother? Or quite as chivalrous?"

"I knew I would be safe with Heath," Audra replied. "Even if he wasn't who he said he was. He could have hurt me when I attacked him with my whip by Father's grave. He had me pinned, but he just threw the whip aside and let me up. I trusted him."

Jarrod shook his head. "Don't think we've forgotten how you behaved that night, Audra. But that's not at issue right now. Tell us what happened, Nick. How did you get hurt? What happened to Gal?"

Nick sat up, leaning against the headboard. He stared down at his hands a moment, then looked up at Jarrod, his eyes begging for absolution. "It was my fault. He told me not to cut around that way, but I had to show him that I knew best."

They rode into the canyon, Heath's sure-footed pony confidently picking her way down a path that still drained water from a recent rainfall. "It's real slippery around here," Heath called back. "We'll need to take it slow until we get to dry ground."

Nick rolled his eyes. He didn't need Heath to tell him to take it easy. He'd been chasing horses through this canyon since he was old enough to ride. And he reckoned Coco could keep step with that Modoc of Heath's any day. She was a good cowpony, but she was no match for a Barkley-trained horse. Which reminded him that it was about time Heath had a mount worthy of a Barkley. That bay in the corral would be just the one.

He grinned to himself. There was nothing Nick liked better than surprising his family with gifts. Whenever he was in San Francisco, he kept an eye out for a pretty dress for Audra, some cigars for Jarrod, a book for Eugene, a crystal ornament for his mother. None of that seemed right for his austere new brother. Heath didn't seem to care about possessions, or at least about accumulating them. What he owned was looked after lovingly, but he made do with what he needed and little else.

This horse, though, would be a gift that Heath would value. Nick was a firm believer in letting actions speak in place of words. He couldn't think of a better way of telling Heath how much he meant to him than giving him the finest horse in the Valley.

He watched his brother, imagining how he'd look on top the big bay. His father had ridden a bay horse, a gorgeous, spirited animal that Nick had sold a month after the funeral, unable to bear seeing it without its rider. For a moment he could see his father again, riding tall, the strong giant of his childhood.

He was so caught up in the image that he barely noticed when Heath reined up to talk to him. "They were grazing in the lower canyon this morning. I reckon if we flank them, we should be able to cut a couple of the mares out of the herd."

"There's a path that winds around the far side of the canyon. I'll take Coco that way and head them off towards you."

Heath frowned. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Nick. I was up that way a couple of days ago and it was a real mudslide. Could still be dangerous."

The words, innocent and well meaning, sparked a flashpoint in Nick's temper. "I've been riding those trails since you were in diapers, boy," he retorted. "I think I can judge that for myself."

Heath opened his mouth to argue, then closed it abruptly, his own temper flaring at the hated epithet. "Do what you want, then," he snapped, spurring Gal forward.

Nick shook his head. He'd done it again; let his mouth run before his mind. He thought about catching up to Heath and telling him they'd do it his way, but Nick Barkley wasn't a man who backed down easily, even to his own brother. Truth was, he'd have reacted the exact same way if it had been Eugene or Jarrod disagreeing with him. But with Eugene or Jarrod, he would have known he was in the right. Heath might be young, but he knew what he was doing, and he was the one who had just spent a week riding these trails.

Heath, however, had already urged Gal into a careful canter and was moving into position at the mouth of the canyon. Knowing his brother shared the Barkley stubborn streak, Nick decided they could argue about it later – and most likely would – and turned Coco towards his chosen path.

It didn't take long to realise that Heath was right about the trail. Coco slipped several times on the loose mud and was growing jitterier with each step. About halfway down the trail was washed out, an inadvertent stream cutting across it. Nick was in the process of dismounting to lead Coco across, when an ominous rumble startled him and he turned his head to see a fresh slide sweeping towards the run-off. Coco reared, and Nick, already off-balance, tumbled over the edge of the path and down the sharp incline of the canyon.

He seemed to fall forever, his scrabbling hands failing to gain purchase on the slick grass. Finally he crashed into a sturdy tree, which slowed his descent enough for him to finally dig his heels into the dirt, but not before his head glanced against a boulder. He lay still a moment, trying to regain his equilibrium, but a steady pounding kept him disoriented. He could hear Heath shouting his name and he struggled to sit up and find his brother. To his horror he could see the horses, spooked by the slide, racing towards him in full flight.

Nick spared a moment to muse that his pigheaded need to have his own way was going to cost him his life. Then he heard Heath shout at him to get up and despite the wave of dizziness that threatened to drown him, he obeyed instinctively. He turned away from the herd and saw his brother racing towards him, bent low over Gal's neck, urging the big-hearted pony to top speed.

Nick swayed, fighting the urge to bolt, trusting his brother like he would no other. It would be close, but the wild horses were running from fear, while Heath was racing with love. He reached out his arms holding himself steady as Gal swept past him. Heath turned tightly; slowing down just long enough to reach out and pull Nick up behind him, before spurring Gal back to a full out run.

Heath angled Gal safely away from the herd and was just reining her in when Gal suddenly stumbled. Heath had just enough time to grab Nick and push both of them free of the falling horse.

For the second time in minutes Nick hit the ground hard, all the air rushing from his lungs with a whoosh. He lay on his back, his head spinning. Then two sounds pierced the roaring in his ears: his brother calling his name and a horse screaming. He felt hands shaking him and he blinked opened his eyes, slowly focussing on Heath's face above him.

"Nick, Nick," Heath was calling. "Are you all right? Tell me you're all right, Nick."

Nick licked his lips and cleared his throat experimentally. "I'm all right," he croaked.

Heath sagged to the ground, wiping his hands over his face. "Thank God," he muttered. Then he crawled out of Nick's view towards the sound of the screaming.

Nick closed his eyes again, fighting the pain in his head. He tried to make sense of the situation. Who could be screaming? It wasn't him and it wasn't Heath. There was a gunshot and then the only noise was the fading sound of running hooves. Nick pressed the heels of his hands hard against his throbbing temples. Slowly his thoughts settled and an understanding started to take root. He tried to sit up, but a rumble in his stomach disabused him of that notion, so he curled onto his side and slowly shifted until he could see Heath.

The younger man was kneeling next to his pony, his shoulders shaking and his gun lying loose in his right hand. Nick managed to crawl the few feet to his brother's side and laid a hand on Heath's back, unable to offer any words of comfort. He didn't think Heath would accept them. Instead he let his brother grieve in silence for the horse that had been both work mate and companion for years.

Finally Heath squared his shoulders, rested a hand on Gal's neck for one last moment, and then turned to Nick. "You'd best lie down before you fall down," he said softly and helped Nick ease onto his back. "Where are you hurt?" he asked, his hands already moving over Nick's body, searching for obvious wounds.

"I'm all right," Nick protested, but then Heath found the lump on the back of his head and his world greyed. When his vision cleared, Heath was gone. Nick struggled to sit up, praying that Heath hadn't left before he had a chance to tell him how sorry he was. His head spun and the world tilted alarmingly until strong hands held him steady. Something cool and wet was laid against the back of his head and he sighed.

"Easy, Nick, easy. Don't try and move."

Overcome with relief, Nick clutched at one of the arms holding him up. "I'm sorry, Heath. I should have listened to you. It's all my fault." He felt Heath stiffen and his heart cracked, desperately afraid that he had shattered the growing bond between them. But then Heath sighed and rested his forehead on the crown of Nick's head.

"It's nobody's fault, Nick. It just happened."

He could hear the sorrow in his younger brother's voice, but there was no recrimination. They sat in silence for a moment, Heath struggling for composure and Nick aching in body and heart. He had never been able to bear seeing those he loved in pain. He wasn't sure when it had happened, but somehow this new brother of his had wound his quiet way into his heart. He leaned against Heath, slipping an arm around the broad shoulders in an awkward hug that Heath returned tentatively, patting him lightly on the back.

"You've got a nice lump on the back of your head," Heath said, clearing his voice of rough emotion, "but that seems to be the worst of it. It's bleeding some, but not too badly." He shifted slightly and studied Nick's face. "You think you're up to riding back to the house? I'd feel a lot better if Doc Merar took a look at you."

It was a two-hour ride at the best of times, but Nick wanted to be home. He knew Heath would look after him just fine in the line shack, but there was some holdover from childhood that had him longing for his mother's touch to soothe away the hurt. And Heath needed his family too. He snorted a humourless laugh. "I guess I get to drag you home after all," he said, thinking that it was a hell of a way to get what he wanted.

Heath eased him prone again, cushioning his head on a bundled up jacket. "That why you really came up here?" he asked, his light eyes unfathomable.

Nick closed his eyes. "Yeah," he sighed. "You mad?" It seemed an absurd question, given what Heath had just forgiven him, but Heath could be as skittish as an unbroken colt sometimes and he was still feeling out the younger man's boundaries.

Heath didn't speak or move and Nick imagined his brother staring out across the valley, pondering his answer. He'd never known a man to measure his words as carefully as Heath.

"Guess I'm not used to anybody riding ten miles out of their way just to see me," he said, a conscious reflection of his earlier answer.

"I'm not just anybody," Nick replied, in as quiet a voice as he'd ever used. "I'm your brother and I'd ride ten thousand miles to see you." He chanced opening his eyes again and found himself staring up at Heath's face. His vision blurred and for a moment he thought he was seeing his father again, gracing him with that sweet half-smile of affection that had always let his children know how much they were loved.

"You think you can get up on Coco?" Heath asked, breaking the spell.

"I've ridden with worse," Nick replied simply, knowing that was something this brother would understand.

"I reckon we both have," Heath agreed. He leaned away from Nick and let out a piercing whistle. A moment later he was rewarded by the sound of trotting hooves, as Coco returned to his signal.

Nick managed to sit up again and scowled at his horse, which stood with his proud head lowered, as if apologizing for the fall. "Ah, hell, Coco," he muttered. "We both know whose fault this was. Next time just buck me off before we have a chance to get into trouble."

Coco snorted, then nuzzled the back of Nick's head. Nick sighed and allowed Heath to heave him upright. He closed his eyes against another wave of dizziness, but after a moment managed to pull himself into the saddle. It was a struggle to stay upright, but Heath swung up quickly behind him anchoring him in place with one strong arm.

"Let's go home," Heath said, nudging Coco into an easy walk.

Nick Barkley let the balm of those three quiet words carry him past the dizziness, past the nausea, past the pain, as he let himself sink into the safety of his brother's arms.

There was silence when Nick finished talking, the atmosphere in the room heavy with sadness.

"It's bad enough that he had to put poor little Gal down," Nick whispered. "Heath could have easily been hurt or killed himself." He shook his head. "You should have seen him riding like the wind to reach me before the horses did. It was like something out of a storybook." Nick had never been good at hiding his feelings and the whole family could see the emotions at war on his face. Admiration for his brother's daring, sorrow at his loss, and guilt over his own part in the tragedy. "He had to know the risk he was taking. Why did he do it, Mother?" Nick cried.

"Because he loves you."

Nick stared at her with wide, uncomprehending eyes, then suddenly his shoulders began to shake. Victoria quickly pulled him into her arms, rocking him like she did when he was a little boy. "I don't know what I'd do if he was the one being buried today," Nick whispered. "I get so scared sometimes."

Victoria stroked his hair. "I know. So do I."

Nick pulled away, more composed. "Do you remember how I used to catch fireflies in jars? I kept them on my windowsill so I could watch those tiny lights flickering all night. Except every morning, some of them would be dead. So Father asked me to let them go. He told me it wasn't right to keep them cooped up, that I should let them live on their own terms and be grateful each time I saw those lights flash in the evening air." He rubbed his eyes and turned his head to look out the window, as if he expected to see a firefly flicker by. "I keep thinking Heath is like a firefly, something magical that flew into my life, and I'm so damn afraid he'll just fly away again and all I'll have left is the memory of that light."

"Oh, Nick," Victoria sighed. "He's not going to leave you. If anything, what happened today should prove that to you."

"Father left."

Jarrod wondered if Nick had ever really healed from that six-year-old wound, if any of them had. Most days it was just a remote ache, always present but bearable until memory flared it into stabbing pain. "He didn't choose to leave, Nick. And the thing about fireflies is you have to appreciate them while they're here, not worry about when they might be gone."

There was a knock on the front door then and Audra pulled free of Jarrod's arms to run down and greet Dr. Merar. The Stockton doctor smiled when he saw his patient sitting up. "Your turn is it?" He glanced around and the smile faded. "I hope I don't have a patient in another room."

"Heath's not here," Nick replied shortly. "And if you could just tell Mother that I'm all right, I'll be riding out to be with him."

"Now hold on there, Nick. I haven't even had a chance to look at you." Dr. Merar didn't even blink at the glare Nick gave him. "Do I need to be riding out to see Heath myself?"

"He doesn't need a doctor, he needs his brother."

"He needs his family," Victoria corrected him. "Audra, could you ask Ciego to get a wagon ready? If the doctor says Nick is fit to travel, we'll all ride together."

If Dr. Merar was confused by the conversation, he did a good job of hiding his curiosity. Instead he instructed Nick to lie down and recount how he'd been injured. He shook his head sadly when he learned the fate of the Modoc pony, his brow creased in sympathy. He examined his impatient patient quickly, but thoroughly, understanding Nick's urgency. "You're going to be pretty sore for a few days, but the good news is there's no broken bones. You've got yourself a nice concussion, but your pupils look good, so I don't think you've done any serious damage. Dizzy?"

"Not too bad."

"How about nausea?"

Nick chuckled. "Not any more. But I think I threw up on Heath a couple of times. He probably won't be too happy to see me again."

"Just how far are you planning on riding?"

"Gallagher's Creek."

"Take the wagon," Dr. Merar advised curtly. "I'd rather you spent a couple of days resting in bed, but I can see that's not going to happen." He shook his head in resignation. "Nothing strenuous for at least a week and you call for me immediately if the dizziness gets worse or you start having vision problems."

"You got it, Doc." Nick was prepared to be generous in victory. "I'll even ride into town in a couple of days so you can make sure I'm all healed up."

From the expression on his face, Jarrod judged that Merar wouldn't be holding his breath for that to happen. "Is there anything else I can do?" he asked Victoria, reaching for her hand.

The Barkley matriarch smiled sadly at him. "Not unless you have a cure for a broken heart," she replied.

Dr. Merar lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it gently. "Time," he said. "Time and love. I think that's something this family has plenty of."

----

It took nearly three hours to get to the line shack, but if any of the Barkleys regretted the ride, they didn't say so aloud. A full moon in a clear sky lit their way as they rode in silence, Nick dozing in the back of the wagon, his head in Audra's lap. As they passed the line shack and drew closer to the canyon, however, he sat up, his face drawn with physical and emotional strain.

"It's not too far now," he said softly and sure enough only a few minutes passed before they spied the still figure kneeling next to an open grave.

Jarrod reined the horses in at a respectful distance and waited for Heath to acknowledge their presence. The family watched as he stood up slowly and drew his arm across his face before turning to walk slowly towards them. Victoria was the first to jump off the wagon and she hurried to meet him, reaching up to cup his face in her hands.

"I'm so sorry, Heath. I know how much she meant to you."

Heath looked past her at the wagon and a slight smile tugged the corner of his mouth. "Not as much as Nick does," he said softly. "He all right?"

"Thanks to you." Even in the dark she could see the embarrassed flush creep up Heath's neck into his face. "Are you all right?"

He shrugged. "Sure. I guess you're pretty upset at me for bolting like that. I waited until I knew Nick was in good hands."

Victoria hugged him quickly. "Oh, sweetheart, I know you would never leave Nick in danger. We're not upset with you."

"Speak for yourself," Nick growled. "I told you I'd help you. Why didn't you wait?"

Heath stepped back at the surprise onslaught and his left leg buckled. Nick grabbed his arm, steadying him, and his expression grew even fiercer. "Damnit, Heath, did you hurt your knee again and not tell me? What the hell am I supposed to do with you?"

Victoria stepped towards him, her expression a mirror of her second son's. Nick had come by his temper honestly. "Watch your language, Nicholas. If this is the way you speak to your brother, it's no wonder he didn't want you around."

"It's not that I didn't want you around, Nick," Heath protested, his gaze fixed on his older brother's face so that he missed Victoria's fleeting, satisfied smile. "I just didn't know how long it would be before you could ride back and I couldn't stand to think of Gal lying out for the scavengers to get."

Nick hadn't missed his mother's smile, but he wasn't prepared to completely back down. "So you rode all the way back here and dug a hole with a bum knee. You could have got somebody else to help you. I know Jarrod's not much use when it comes to hard work, but even he knows how to use a shovel."

"Very funny, Brother Nick," Jarrod said, moving forward to clap a hand on Heath's shoulder. "Heath doesn't need to explain himself."

Heath looked down and wrapped his arms around his body, a defensive posture that dismayed Jarrod even as Heath's quiet reply broke his heart. "I figured Jarrod would want to stay with you," he answered Nick. "Didn't seem right to take him away from where he needed to be."

Jarrod shook his head at Nick, who turned away abruptly and stalked back to the wagon. Jarrod sighed and tilted Heath's chin up until they were looking eye to eye. "What about what you needed, Heath? Or were you afraid that if you asked I'd say no?"

Heath's eyes darted away. It was all the answer Jarrod needed.

"Can I tell you what I would have done if you'd asked?" He didn't wait for words that wouldn't have come. "I would have helped bring Nick upstairs, made sure he was all right and that Mother and Audra had everything under control, and then I would have gone out to the barn, grabbed a shovel and rode up here with you." The startled disbelief on Heath's face hurt more he would have thought possible.

Audra threw her arms around Heath, burying her face in her chest. "Oh Heath, I was so worried about you. It's been awful thinking of you here all alone."

After a moment's hesitation Heath hugged her back, resting one hand on the golden hair so similar to his own. "There was no cause to be worried, Sis. I can look after myself."

"I know that, you idiot," Audra retorted, slapping her brother on the chest. Jarrod smiled at the flicker of rueful amusement across Heath's features. Audra might look the most like Heath, but she was Nick's twin in spirit and tact. "But that doesn't mean you have to. Family looks after each other. That's why we came as soon as Dr. Merar said Nick was all right."

Heath looked over at the wagon and sighed. Nick was sitting on the buckboard, kicking one foot against a wheel, his arms crossed menacingly over his chest. "I guess he's pretty mad at me right now."

Victoria stepped back into the conversation. "Jarrod, Audra, why don't you go see how Nick is doing. I'd like to have a talk with Heath alone."

Jarrod led his sister away after giving Heath's shoulder one final squeeze.

"Nick's not mad at you, sweetheart," Victoria reassured him. "We practically had to tie him down to keep him in bed long enough for the doctor to see him." Victoria linked her arm in his and led him to a fallen log. She pulled him down to sit beside her. She leaned into his side and after a moment his arm went around her shoulder. It was strange how natural it felt to her, as if she'd known him his entire life, instead of just a few short months. They sat quietly for a moment, Victoria allowing him to settle into the silence.

Finally Heath spoke. "So if he's not mad, why does he look like he wants to be kicking me instead of that wagon wheel?"

Victoria laughed. "Oh, he's mad all right. Just not at you." She turned to face him, reaching up to tilt his head towards her when he refused to meet her gaze. "He's upset about Gal and he thinks it's his fault."

Heath frowned and looked back at the wagon. "It wasn't his fault. I'm sad to lose Gal, but it would have been a whole lot worse to lose Nick."

"I told him that. But it's hard to think about yourself when someone you love is hurting." She smiled at the look of wonder on the young man's face. "Don't ever doubt that your brother loves you, Heath. I know you two had a rocky start, but you have to know he adores you now."

Heath smiled shyly. "I'm beginning to figure that out. I don't quite know what to do with it sometimes."

Victoria patted him on the shoulder. "Just do what the rest of us do and let it roll over you. Nick will give you the world if you let him."

Heath lowered his eyes. "He already has. All of you have. You all have given me so much more than I can ever give back."

At times the depth of love she felt for this new son surprised Victoria, caught her unawares with a surge of emotion that bubbled in her chest like a spring. In truth he was an easy man to love, gentle and kind, yet strangely vulnerable. She smoothed the hair back from his face and kissed him gently on the forehead. "You've given us yourself, and that's everything."

She looked up and saw Nick hovering a few feet away. "I think your brother wants to talk to you. I'll leave you two alone, if you think you're ready for it."

Heath grinned. "I reckon I've made him wait long enough for one week."

Victoria stood up and placed one last kiss on the top of Heath's head. "I think he's been waiting for you his whole life." She walked away slowly, reluctant to leave his side, but knowing Nick's need was greater now. She stopped in front of her second son and cupped his face, repeating the words she had told Heath: "Don't ever doubt that your brother loves you, Nick."

Nick watched her join Jarrod and Audra by the wagon, then turned his attention to his younger brother. Heath was still sitting on the log where Victoria had left him, his body tensed against the expected explosion. Nick Barkley had never been one to hold back his emotions and the pounding headache made it even more difficult for him to control his temper. But Heath had been hurt enough for one day and he wasn't about to let another misjudged outburst cause any more pain.

Nick sat down on the spot Victoria had vacated and sat quietly for a moment, letting his brother's presence calm his frayed nerves. "I'm sorry," he said finally.

Heath's face snapped towards him in surprise. Clearly an apology was the last thing he'd been expecting. "There's nothing for you to be sorry about."

"That's generous of you, but it's not true." Nick found he couldn't look at Heath, not and still keep his composure. "I'm sorry Gal was hurt because of me. I'm sorry you had to put her down. I'm sorry I wasn't here to help you bury her. And I'm sorry I yelled at you." A low chuckle forced him to make eye contact with his brother again.

"That's an awful lot of sorry. I know your shoulders are broad, but there's no need for you to carry any guilt because of me." Heath reached up and squeezed the back of Nick's neck. "Like I told Mother, it's hard to lose Gal, but I'd give her up a thousand times before I'd lose you. I made the choice and it was no choice at all."

Nick felt hot tears burn the corners of his eyes and took a deep breath to steady himself. "I'd give anything to bring her back to you."

"I know that and that's enough." Nick saw Heath's teeth flash white in a quick grin. "As for the rest of it, well, if you weren't yelling I'da been worried that you were really hurt. And don't think that coming up here late gets you out of digging detail. There's a lot of dirt that's still got to go in that hole."

Nick chuckled despite himself and bumped shoulders with Heath. "Well, now that we've got Jarrod here, we should put him to work." He frowned, suddenly thinking of something. "How did you get Gal in the grave? I know you're strong, but nobody's that strong."

Heath smirked. "What was it that Greek fellow said? Give me a lever and I'll move the world. All I had to move was one little horse."

Nick wondered if there would ever come a time when Heath would cease to amaze him. He didn't think so. There were depths to this boy he thought he might never plumb. "How's your knee?"

"Better than your head. You shouldn't have come all the way up here."

"You should have waited for me. I guess that makes us even." The frustration resurged. "Why didn't you tell me you hurt your knee?"

"What did it matter? Wasn't going to change anything."

Heath's capacity to accept a situation and just make do was an unending source of wonder to Nick. He knew that compared to Heath he'd been fortunate, growing up as he had. He'd had his share of disappointments and his parents had made sure he worked for anything that meant something to him, but he had never had to just make do. He had always had the resources to change the situation and the encouragement and support to do so. But Heath had had doors slammed shut in his face all his life. Nick figured that had to do one of two things to a child. Teach him to wait patiently on the porch for someone to invite him in, or ignore the door altogether and climb through the window to get what he needed. Heath didn't strike him as the kind of man who would wait for something that might never come. And a bum knee wasn't going to stop him from doing what needed to be done.

"Maybe not, but you didn't have to hurt all alone."

A smile teased the corner of Heath's mouth. "Oh, I knew I wasn't hurting alone. Kind of hard not to, what with you puking all over me. I think you owe me a new jacket, big brother."

Nick loved the sound of those two words coming from Heath's mouth. Heath's easy drawl, the legacy of his mother's Carolina upbringing, softened the syllables, drawing them out like a caress. "I'll buy you the whole damn store," he said, slapping his arm around his little brother's shoulders. "I'll buy you anything you want."

Heath smiled shyly. "I already got what I want. And it's better than anything money can buy."

Nick's chest felt hollow, then suddenly too full. "Let's put that lawyer man to work, little brother, and go home. We've got the rest of our lives to catch horses." He pulled Heath to his feet, steadying him when his knee buckled again. For a moment the two men stood still, Nick's hands resting lightly on Heath's shoulders, and then they turned and walked back to the wagon, side by side and perfectly in step.