"Show us what you inherited from your father! Show us some of Tom Barkley's guts!"

Heath didn't linger long once that order came from his stepmother. Precisely three seconds after Victoria Barkley issued her challenge, Heath stalked from the library without a word to anyone and headed straight up to his bedroom.

In his wake, with the pounding on his dusty brown boots on the curved staircase echoing throughout the ground floor, Nick stood behind his mother and stared at the empty doorway for a moment before his gaze shifted to Jarrod frowning by the window. Neither spoke, but one look into Nick's hazel eyes told Jarrod precisely what his brother's next move was going to be. A heartbeat later Nick was also gone. Upstairs, he barged into Heath's room and slammed the door behind him, his aggravation rising several notches once he took in the scene before him.

"And just where in the blazes do you think you're going?"

Heath brushed past him on his way back to the bed, his jaw pulsing with every step. He dropped several pairs of socks and a handful of underwear onto his open bedroll.

"Away from here."

"Which would be where exactly?"

"Don't matter so long as I'm not in the same house as Bentell. If I can't kill him, then gettin' the hell away from his stink will do me just fine."

Nick latched onto his brother's arm as Heath marched once more across the room.

"And what about us?"

Heath wrenched his arm free and continued on his way to the dresser. "What about you? Didn't none of you know me nine months ago, so I reckon you'll do just fine without me again."

"And you?" Nick raised a clenched fist and shook it. "Didn't you fight and claw and practically shoot your way into this house to become a part of us? You just gonna walk on outta here and forget you have brothers and a sister and–"

"Yer damn right I am! That's exactly what I'm gonna do. I don't need to be a Barkley when the price is this high, Nick. I don't need anything right now except to get the hell off this ranch!"

"And that's the biggest load of bullcrap and horsefeathers I ever heard!" Abruptly aware of how loud his voice had become, even for him, Nick lowered it with effort. "Let me tell you something, boy. We're your family in case you forgot, or don't we count anymore since all you can think about is Bentell?"

Heath slammed the dresser drawer in front of him and turned an icy blue glare on his furious older brother.

"So I'm selfish, is that it? Well if I am, I'm not the only one. Seems you, Jarrod and Mother care more about makin' money off that son-of-a-bitch than how I feel."

"That's not true and you know it, Heath!"

"Like hell it isn't!"

"And I'm telling you like hell it is! Give me that!" Nick tore from his brother's grasp the work outfits Heath was now carrying and tossed them across the room, then watched in mounting frustration when Heath simply shot him a look, stomped to where his clothes had landed and silently scooped them up.

Nick forced himself to take a number of deep breaths before he gave into temptation and strangled his pigheaded sibling. "All right," he finally grumbled. "Since I can see there's no talkin' to you right now, maybe it is better if you move into town for a night or two until you can simmer down."

"You think I'm goin' into Stockton?" Heath snorted his disgust as he slapped his cambric work shirts into the middle of the bedroll then topped them off with two pairs of tan pants. "Oh no. I'm goin' a lot farther than that, Big Brother."

Nick planted his fists on his hips. "And what's that supposed to mean? Just how far do you plan on runnin'?"

"I'm not runnin' anywhere," Heath retorted. "I'm just gonna find me someplace to settle where no murderin' jackal from my past is likely to be. I hear they got good work and clean air up in Montana territory, but then again maybe I'll just head on down to South America. I've always had a hankerin' to visit Peru, and I can speak Spanish a lot better than I can stomach Bentell."

"Is that so?" Nick sneered. He sauntered to the bed and raked his sibling up and down with his eyes. "Well, well, well. So much for showing us Father's guts, eh?"

Heath refused to be baited while he folded his bedroll then tied it tight with a few angry twists. "I don't have to prove myself to you, Nick. I shouldn't have to prove myself to you or anyone else in this family anymore. I've been here almost a full year. If none of you know me by now, then you can all just go to the devil."

Nick took another step forward, crowding him. "And you had better watch your mouth, boy."

"I'm not watchin' anything," Heath shot back. He tossed his saddlebags over his right shoulder, snatched up his bedroll, then turned towards the door.

Immediately, Nick moved to block his path and then hampered his brother again when Heath tried to move around him. Nick's jaw was tight, reminiscent of their first meal together as a family before Peacemaker Jarrod had cut their breakfast steak in two. He wasn't going to give an inch from the stolid, unblinking expression on his face, but Heath didn't rightly care. He wasn't backing down either, and he narrowed his eyes to prove it, raising his chin defiantly.

"Get out of my way, Nicholas. I ain't tellin' you twice."

Nick said nothing, didn't even shake his head.

So be it, Heath thought. He charged ahead anyway then stumbled back when Nick shoved him full in the chest, which was about all the invitation Heath needed given the way he was feeling. He dropped his belongings and left fly with his fists.

Further down the hall and seated at her vanity table, Audra dropped her hairbrush in fright as an earthquake seemed to shake the house. She tightened her bathrobe around her waist then fairly flew to the source of the ruckus, shocked then dismayed then alarmed at the vicious brawl that was taking place between her favorite brothers. In the library, Jarrod and Victoria had also stopped talking and were hastening one behind the other towards the vestibule. To Victoria, it sounded almost like a series of thunderclaps were exploding upstairs, but Jarrod was pretty sure it was only furniture that kept toppling … and if he was right, he knew exactly whose sanctuary was now in shambles.

He wasn't wrong.

In the bedroom of the newest Barkley brother, the bed was off-center, both chairs were overturned and one of the nightstands lay pitched on its side with two broken legs. As Nick reeled from yet another punch, tripped over the wash stand, then fell ass over applecart into a corner by the wall, Heath took advantage. Finally heeding Audra's cries to stop it, he wiped his bloody lip, staggered to his bedroll and saddlebags, snatched them up, then raced past her out the door.

Behind him, Nick struggled to regain his footing.

"GET BACK HERE, BOY! WE'RE NOT FINISHED!"

Heath didn't slow his pace in the least. Despite the eighteen steps in the curving front staircase of the Barkley mansion, he barely touched five on his way down. He took them three at a time to the ground floor then skirted Victoria completely as she swished to his side to prevent his departure.

"Heath, please! Don't lea—"

Before Victoria could stop him, he was past her and gone. Jarrod grimly took a step after Heath, all set to follow, but Nick overtook them both within seconds as Audra was left behind upstairs, confused and weeping.

"Stay here. I'm going after him."

Neither Jarrod nor Victoria got a chance to reply. There one minute and gone the next, Nick didn't feel any of the bumps and bruises that were rapidly forming on his lean frame. He sprinted from the house and straight over to the barn, his smoldering gaze fixating immediately on his younger brother, who pointedly ignored him and continued saddling his old Modoc pony. The Modoc was not the horse Heath rode much anymore since the family had presented him with Charger months before, so the significance behind that choice now was certainly not lost on Nick. Feeling his considerable temper rise yet another notch, Nick glanced at the ranch hands lingering nearby then jerked a thumb toward the entrance.

"You men, get out." The moment George and Ciego shared a look but wisely chose to walk outside without a word, Nick approached his sibling. "And as for you, Heath Morgan Barkley, you listen to me and you listen good. If you think I'm gonna let you—"

But that was as far as Nick got. Lying flat on the barn floor and coming to with George Carter looming over him and Ciego overshadowing them both, Nick furrowed his brows as he realized what must have happened. He rose up on one elbow then lifted a hand towards his face to work the stiffness from his tender jaw.

"Where … Where'd my brother go?"

A wide-eyed Ciego pointed a chubby arm to the left in case his employer was too concussed to remember the cardinal directions. "Este, Señor Nick. He ride east, but you okay? Señor Heath, he punch you real hard. He—"

"Yeah, yeah, he's got the Barkley temper. I know that, Ciego, I know! Now how long have I been out?"

"A long time, Señor Nick. Mucho tiempo. I tell you I was just about to fetch your mamá and Señor Jar—"

"I said how long, damn you!"

George fielded this one with a sorry shake of his head. "About eight minutes, give or take."

"Blast it!" Nick waved them back then pushed himself to his feet. "Get me a bedroll and saddle my hor—"

"Already done," George said. "My saddlebags are there too just in case. There ain't much in there, but it's got jerky, matches and an extra shirt. I figured you'd want 'em soon as you came to."

A quick glance out into the yard told Nick this was true, so he clapped the aging hand on the back then hurried out to Coco. As he mounted up and kicked Coco into gear, he called over his shoulder. "Tell Jarrod and my mother we'll be back by supper!"