I do NOT own The Big Valley nor any of the original Big Valley characters. I have wondered for a long time, 'what if' it was Nick who wound up with amnesia, not Jarrod. The idea finally rolled around long enough to get my attention. Thanks to my Beta Reader, though all mistakes are my own.

End of the Rainbow

Chapter One

The sun lit down upon the two bedroom cabin and the inhabitant the small three acres surrounding it held. Catraoine "Cat" O'Brian stood on the porch, inhaling the fresh morning air and praying to make it through another day. Truth was, lately she'd been fighting a bit of depression. Her mother had passed on five years ago, her father two years ago and her brothers and their wives had all moved back east. A couple of them were even talking about returning to their home in Europe. Yes, she could have gone with them, but California was the only place she'd ever felt at home.

She started down the steps and headed for the chicken coop when she saw him, a stranger leaning forward in his saddle, almost to the point of lying down on the horse's neck. He had to be hurt. She ran towards the stranger. Sure enough, there was blood on the side of his head and on his side. She hurried and mounted the horse, wrapped her one arm around the man's waist and took the reins in her other. Cat pushed the horse as fast as she dared. It didn't take long to get the gentleman to the house.

"Thank you." The man managed to get the words out as she dismounted and helped him to do the same. It wasn't long before she had him lying on her bed and was tending to his wounds. She would have asked him what happened, but she couldn't; he was unconscious.

Cat surveyed the damage as she tended to the injured stranger. Besides the head wound and what turned out to be a bullet wound-only the angle of the wound told her the bullet had exited out the back-there were bruises on his chest and on his back. Somebody had attacked him; why was another story. "Well, mister," Cat took the man's boots off and pulled the blanket up, "looks like me brothers be mistaken, I didn't 'ave to be goin' with them. Me nursin' days 'ere be not quite over yet."

While her patient slept, Cat sat in the chair next to the bed mending the stranger's shirt. Only when he opened his eyes did she put the shirt down, stand up and rest her hand upon the top of the headboard as she looked upon the dark haired stranger. "The man awakes, may I be inquirin' what your name be and what you be doin' travelin' on your 'orse 'urt and in need of 'elp?"

"I…" the man's eyebrows turned down as he looked around, his eyes resting on the boots on the floor, spurs on the chair, a black Stetson on the dresser and black vest hanging on the wall. Were they his?

"Mister?" Cat grew concerned when the man did not answer. "What your name be?" She kept an eye on the man's face; she had a way of 'reading' people, and she didn't like what she was reading now. She hoped she was wrong in the conclusions she was starting to draw; she wasn't.

"I…I don't know." The man looked at the various items again. "Are they mine?" A part of him felt they had to belong to someone else, the other part said he should know them.

Cat sighed. "The items be yours; I snagged 'em off of you when I 'ad to nurse you. You 'ad no papers on you. If you 'ave no name, I'll 'ave to be givin' you one. That bein' the case, I'll call you Patrick and you can use me last name of O'Brian and," she scratched the back of her neck, "right or wrong, if anyone be by you're me cousin. I'll tend you, but I'll not be marrin' me good name for you."

He didn't see what choice he had, he wasn't exactly in a position to get up and leave, and even if he was, where would he go? "Who am I?" he asked himself, along with, "How did I get hurt?" It bothered him, this not knowing who he was or why he was injured in the first place. Had he asked for it in some way, or had someone attacked him for some odd reason? He may not have those answers, but he knew the woman was right when she said he had to have a name and a way to explain being in her house. "Patrick O'Brian." He said the name then muttered under his breath, "Cousin, I can live with. O'Brian? Got to find another name, I don't even come close to sounding Irish." He closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

He may have been muttering, but Cat still heard him. She may not like it, but he was right. She may be able to pass him off as her cousin, but not as an O'Brian. As she went back outside, Cat began running one name after another through her mind, names that existed on her mother's side of the family. Some of them were from places like England and New York. After all, the man had to have a name. By the time she stepped back inside, she had one she thought might work, if the stranger would go for it.

During the time Cat was going over names with her patient, Heath and Jarrod were looking for Nick. "Where is he?" Heath asked as he looked up and down the road; he and Jarrod stood outside the arena that was being used for the auction the three brothers were supposed to be attending. He didn't like this; Nick was hours late and the auction was already starting.

"I don't know." Jarrod was worried also; this wasn't like Nick. "But, if he's not here by the end of the auction, we best forget about our plans for spending the night and go looking for him instead." Heath wasn't about to argue with that one; there was no way on earth he was going back to Stockton without his brother.

Having made sure her "neighbor", one Paul Miller who lived two miles from her home, would check in on her "cousin", Cat had made her way to the auction. They were auctioning off anywhere from equipment that mines needed to horses; it was the horses she was interested in. More than one head turned as she made her way up to the fence; she had to be right next to the fence, at barely five feet two she couldn't see otherwise.

"Sorry." Cat pulled away when she accidentally bumped into the stranger. Her eyebrows went up just a little, in his suit and tie, the gentleman looked like he'd be more comfortable in a doctor's office or a court room. "I didn't mean to be 'ittin' you."

"Quite alright, Miss." Jarrod smiled as she continued walking until she was right up against the fence.

"If's she's here for the auction," Heath kept an eye on the stranger, "she'll be lucky if the auctioneer hears her bidding."

"Unless she has a voice like Mother's." Jarrod grinned and headed for the young woman, as did Heath. They figured, if she was too soft, one of them could help out. A few hours later, Jarrod and Heath walked away with what they needed and Cat had another horse.

"I thank you kindly, sirs." Cat smiled at the gentlemen before her, as loud as she thought she was at times, it was the men calling themselves Jarrod and Heath Barkley that had helped her get the attention of the auctioneer when it came time, "I could be fixin' you some supper, if you wish it." She figured it was the least she could do for them.

"Thank you," Heath looked around, "but we can't stay." He was champing at the bit to go look for Nick, and the small talk was driving him up a wall.

"God bless you." Cat chatted with them for a few more minutes then mounted her own horse and led the one she'd purchased away.

For a second, Jarrod thought about going after the young woman, but then turned his attention to catching up with Heath. His brother was right when he said they didn't have time; they had to find Nick.