The return journey to Stockton after the events in Days of Wrath must have been an interesting ride. If ever there was a moment for brotherly bonding, that would be it.

The Ride Home

Jarrod Barkley stood in the middle of the street, rage and pain clouding his vision. The pounding in his head was nothing when compared to the pounding in his chest. Despite that, his gun was steady in his hand, the barrel pointing steadily at his target.

"You're going to have to shoot through me to get to him Jarrod," his brother, Nick, said with a steely calm that neither man felt.

Jarrod's blue eyes were locked on Nick's hazel ones, and for the first time in days, Jarrod let the words sink in. Slowly, the seething rage began to fade. A few seconds seemed like an eternity, but Jarrod's gun slowly lowered and the tension lessened.

When Jarrod's eyes finally left Nick's, he didn't feel the stares of the people standing around them, didn't hear the exchange between the sheriff and his younger brother, Heath, when he asked if there were any charges against Jarrod, never saw the sheriff return the wad of money Jarrod had only minutes before given to him. As he slowly made his way down the street, he didn't hear the murmurs from the citizens of Rimfire. He heard nothing, saw nothing, as he forced one foot in front of the other. He wasn't sure where he was going, just that he had to get away. Away from the man that he had been consumed with finding for days, the man who had moments before admitted to murdering his wife. The man that had forced Jarrod down a road of all-consuming hatred and revenge to the exclusion of all else, including family.

The hammering in his chest had subsided, but he still felt the pounding of his head. He could feel his pulse beating in the crease of the scalp wound and his head felt like it was going to explode. The farther he went, the heavier his feet felt. When he finally did bother to look up, he saw the sign for the hotel and changed his course to enter the two-story building. He ignored the people around him, though most of them having witnessed the fight in the street, quickly scooted out of his way.

When he reached his room, he realized he still held his revolver loosely in his hand and he set it down on the chest of drawers absently, not even seeing that the gun was still cocked and ready. With heavy steps he moved to the bed and felt himself collapsing onto the soft mattress. It was mere seconds before the sleep he had denied himself for days claimed him and he allowed the darkness to swallow him.

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Out on the street, Heath Barkley watched the sheriff take Cass Hyatt away, not questioning where the wad of money that the sheriff had handed him had come from or what it had been for. He could guess the answer for himself and he didn't really want to dwell on it too closely. Instead, he stepped up to Nick and together they watched Jarrod make his way down the boardwalk as if he was in a daze. Heath could feel the tension still radiating from Nick, and perhaps a bit of anger, too, though Heath couldn't really say if it was anger at Cass Hyatt and his murderous ways, or at Jarrod for allowing the grief and rage to consume him to the point that he would hold his own brother at gunpoint.

Without a word, the two brothers followed Jarrod, not knowing where he was headed, just knowing that eventually their older brother would stop moving and at that point, he would need them. They stepped in unconscious unison as they trailed their brother into the hotel. A quick look at the wide-eyed clerk resulted in the young man holding up four fingers, indicating which room Jarrod was in. Their boots echoed on the stairs as the silent patrons watched. Both of them knew that the moment they were out of earshot there would be a scramble of voices as the rumors flew, but neither cared. All of their attention was focused on their older brother.

Nick stepped into the room first and stopped, his eyes locked on the bed. Heath had to step around his bigger brother to see, but unlike Nick, his eyes caught the sleeping form of his brother and continued on to take in the rest of the room. He saw the gun on the dresser and stepped to pick it up. As he released the cocked hammer, the sound echoing in the silent room causing Nick to glance over at him. Nick's dark eyes narrowed but he did not speak.

"Do you think I should go for the doc?" Heath asked softly. Neither brother had missed the bandaged head of their older brother and weren't sure how serious the wound was. Jarrod's breathing seemed steady and strong, but without knowing what the wound was or how it occurred, Heath wasn't sure if he wanted to chance it.

Nick stared at Jarrod for several moments before he ran a gloved hand down his tired face as he nodded. "Couldn't hurt," he replied.

Heath hesitated before he left, but when he saw Nick step closer to his brother and gently remove the sleeping man's boots, he knew the anger he sensed from his closest brother was gone, replaced by worry. With a nod to no one in particular, he knew the pair would be fine while he was gone. The same clerk that had given them Jarrod's room number, pointed the way to the doctor's office for Heath. It was only a few doors down from the hotel and Heath noticed that the street was back to normal, the people of Rimfire going about their business as if nothing had happened.

The doctor, a kindly old man who sat listening to Heath while cleaning his spectacles, nodded. He assured Heath that sleep was the best thing for Jarrod and that unless his wound was bleeding or if he fell into too deep of a sleep that they couldn't wake him from, there was nothing further to be done. At Heath's scowl, he promised to drop by the hotel later in the evening to check on Jarrod. He also gave Heath a bottle of headache powder, warning the blond cowboy that his brother was likely to have a headache when he woke up and for a few days after.

Realizing they wouldn't be leaving Rimfire in the near future, Heath made his way to the telegraph office to send a message to his worried mother. He also went down the street to find their horses and make sure they were squared away at the livery. When he returned to the hotel over an hour later, he made arrangements for a room for Nick and himself and finally made his way back to Jarrod's room.

When he stepped through the door, both men were asleep. Nick had removed Jarrod's boots and put a blanket over him before finding a moderately comfortable position in a chair next to the bed. His long legs were spread out in front of him, his head cocked to one side and propped up by his hand. The familiar sound of Nick's light snores gave Heath a somewhat comforting feeling. He settled himself in the other chair and soon found himself joining his brothers in sleep.