Some time back, a member of the SB4SB Yahoo group mentioned that someone should write a SB4SB/Big Valley crossover due to the number of common connection points. I had been trying to do just that since my first viewing of the Heritage SB4SB episode. Unfortunately, it's not easy to bridge the 110 year gap in setting. But I kept gnawing on it and brain-storming with my beta, Shee1. Finally, I hit on an idea and kept working it. I just decided to shoehorn the Barkleys into the 1980s…with a few adjustments. Unfortunately, my beta developed serious computer issues, and she was unable to give this a once over so any errors are mine. However, I doubt I could have generated this story without her assistance. So, this is dedicated to Shee1 with my thanks. And of course, I own no one and nothing, more's the pity.

Family Business

Monday

Hannah knew her priorities in life: her husband, her family, her home. Also…apparently…an old, abandoned school house. One that she never actually attended. Why this school had suddenly become so important…hard to explain. Not like they needed more to do. Or any more trouble. And here she was wasting time on loan paperwork when she ought to be taking care of the real priorities in her life. No wonder Adam was upset.

An unfamiliar horn beeped, and she glanced out to see an older Jeep Cherokee or Wagoneer. It was a little beat up, and she didn't recognize the vehicle or the man ambling up from the gate. Remembering the ugly scene with the construction manager at the Old School, unease rippled through her. She hoped this unknown arrival wasn't related.

Just as she reached the door, his knock echoed. She answered with what she hoped was a bright smile. "Hi. Can I help you?"

The young man standing in front of her was about Adam's size and shape, a little younger, with strawberry blond hair. His clothes were tan and brown except for a light blue shirt that brought out his eyes. He pulled off his hat, "You must be Hannah. I saw ya on T.V."

Her smile dimmed a little at the remembrance of the interview and Adam's reaction. "You must be right. What can I do for you?"

He quirked a grin, "I think I'm offended."

"I'm sorry…?"

"The prodigal?"

Hannah shook her head, completely baffled.

"I'm the 'H'…"

A jolt of recognition, "Oh my gosh! Heath!"

He eased into a laugh, "Took ya long enough."

She ignored his offered hand, pulling him into a hug as he crossed the threshold. "I'm sorry! The guys only showed me the photo album a couple of times, and there just aren't that many pictures of you. Come in, come in!"

Heath seemed surprised by the embrace, but he covered by looking around. "Well, it's a whole lot cleaner than the last time I was here. If it was anything like it used to be when you got here..."

Hannah bit her lip, "Weeellll….."

"I lived here, remember?"

She nodded, remembering what Adam had told her of Heath. She noted his assessment of her, but it felt more approving than the initial judgment from Adam's brothers. "The guys are gonna be so glad to see you. And I'm thrilled to finally meet you."

"Me, too. I shoulda been back a long time ago." He surveyed her up and down mischievously. "I see Adam made a smart choice, but I'm not sure you can say the same."

Great. Another joker. "I can see you fit in around here just fine. I know how lucky I am."

His smile turned gentle, and he took a moment to answer. "I know how lucky I was, too. They didn't have room or money to take me in. Nothing to gain but an extra pair of hands. Meant a lot then, and it still does."

Hannah smiled; she had just met Heath, but she could already see she was gonna love this 'extra' brother.

SB4SB

1975

"I can't. I just can't."

"Heath Thomson, that is your mother, and she needs you. Now get your tail in there!"

"Rachel, she's completely out of it. She don't know if I'm there or not!" Heath turned away from the two women who'd helped raise him. They were standing outside his mother's hospital room where she'd been lying for two days, just waiting to die.

He felt Abigail's hand on his back. "Now, Heath boy, you 'member when you was so sick with the croup, your fever so high?"

He nodded, unable to speak.

"Your mama, she hardly left your side. She bathed your head over and over to cool you down. You knew she be there." She waited, "And she know if you be with her now."

Tears spilled out despite his best efforts. "Abby, I just can't stand seeing her like this. I can't."

He felt Abigail's hand drop away, and the absence felt like a slap. He was letting his mother down—all of them. He leaned his head against the wall and let it hold him up, feeling completely alone.

After a while, a shadow appeared beside him. "My favorite thing about your mom…her laugh. The whole room lights up. When Mom and Dad died, it seemed like we'd never hear laughter at home again. And then about a month later, you came over, and Adam sent us out to ride fence. Remember when we got back, your mom was there to pick you up, and she found Adam and Brian tearing the kitchen apart trying to make my birthday cake. Flour everywhere and she tried to help 'em fix that poor cake. And she was laughing. And then Adam and Brian did, too. I think that was the first time I'd heard 'em laugh since before the funeral. Your mom did that." Crane breathed a laugh, "And then she made me an edible cake the next day."

Heath smiled at the memory. The McFadden kitchen had looked like a disaster area. Adam and Brian had clearly been arguing and vaguely resembled angry ghosts with aprons. Guthrie watched the whole mess from his playpen, looking puzzled. And Leah Thomson in the middle, trying to bring order to the chaos, and just laughing her head off. Adam and Brian finally got tickled when Adam wiped batter off Brian's ear. Heath and Crane stood at the screen door watching. Heath started to laugh, but when he looked at Crane, his friend's eyes were moist. When Heath grinned at him, Crane swiped his nose and finally managed a little smile.

That same friend now squeezed Heath's shoulder, his eyes bright. "I know it's hard; she's not the same. But it's your mom, and she won't be here much longer. Heath, I'd give about anything I have for just ten more seconds with my mom—any way I could have her. Be with your mother while you can."

Heath looked at his best friend. Adam leaned against the wall beside Crane, his eyes downcast. Their parents had been dead two years, and no one got to say good-bye. Heath decided he oughta count his blessings.

Crane shrugged slightly, "We'll go with you if you want."

Heath nodded slowly, then once more decisively. All right, Thomson, cowboy up. He entered his mother's room and picked up her hand, nodding to Rachel and Abigail on the other side of the bed. "I'm here, Mom. Crane and Adam came to see ya. They were just reminding me of that first cooking lesson you gave Adam and Brian…"

SB4SB

Heath sat in the McFadden kitchen as Hannah cut slices of pie. Her coffee was a lot better than Brian's, and Heath would bet good money her pie was too.

Remembering the day his mother died was bittersweet. He lost his first family but gained his second.

SB4SB

1975

Heath looked up at the big house. It looked like a real home, a place where people lived and loved each other. The thought of returning to the small, public housing apartment in Angel's Camp left him reeling. Without his mother, it was just a cinderblock box with windows. Rachel Caulfield and Abigail James lived in the same building. They'd both wanted him to come home, but being with them just made him more lonely for the one who'd brought them together in the first place. Then Adam suggested Heath spend the night at the Circle Bar Seven.

Adam turned off the ignition. "Heath, I'm real sorry about your mother. She was a fine lady."

The hole inside opened a little more. "Thanks, Adam. And thanks for inviting me over."

Crane squeezed Heath's knee, "Anytime."

They walked up to the porch and found the rest of the McFaddens waiting on them. The four youngest were sitting on the top step, Brian standing beside them. He reached to shake Heath's hand. "I'm sorry, Heath."

"Thanks." Heath glanced down at the rest of the boys. "Hi, guys."

Daniel's eyes were big. "I'm sorry your mom died."

Heath tried to keep his voice steady. "Me too, Daniel."

It was quiet for a minute, then Ford asked a question. "Are you gonna go live with your daddy?"

Crane blew out a loud breath, "Ford!"

Heath rubbed the back of his neck and squatted down in front of the seven year old. "No. See, Ford, you're lucky. Your mom and dad got married and had you a bunch of brothers. My mom and dad didn't get married and just had me. I don't know my father, so I can't live with him."

Guthrie wrapped his little arms around Heath's neck. "Live wif us, Heaf. We be your bruvvers."

Heath picked up Guthrie and walked him over to the porch swing, aching for the uncomplicated, freely given love the four year old offered. As the swing moved gently back and forth, Heath cradled Guthrie and wondered what would happen next. He was seventeen years old and had just finished his junior year of high school with Crane. His mother's brother, Matt Simmons, and his wife, Martha, ran a no-tell motel in Modesto. They'd never given his mother the time of day. Rachel and Abigail were already stretched thin, and Heath hated the thought of adding to their burdens—although they wouldn't consider him such. He knew they loved him like their own. But being at the apartment complex would continually remind him of his mother. Right now, that thought was almost unbearable. He and Guthrie sat there swinging, and Heath tried to think…and not think.

After a while, the kitchen door burst open. Daniel, Evan, and Ford flew out with the older McFaddens moving at a slower pace. Guthrie slid down to run after his brothers as the three oldest loitered on the porch.

Adam spoke quietly, "We're heading over to the east side to check the grass and water. Want to come?"

Heath wanted to be doing anything that would take his mind off his mother. "Sure."

Brian leaned on the door frame. "We're having chicken… What d'you call it, Crane?"

"Chicken Divan."

"Yeah, that. It's kinda like chicken pot pie with broccoli instead of peas and carrots. And no crust. That okay with you?"

"Sure. Doesn't matter." Heath had no interest in food.

As they walked down the steps, Brian called out from the porch. "Take Big Mac, Heath."

Heath waved this thanks. Having Crane McFadden as his best friend had given Heath access to a ranch and horses. He'd often thought he and Crane were born to the wrong people. Crane was a good student and professed ambivalence to old style ranching. Heath was only average in school and loved everything about the Circle Bar Seven. Many times, he wondered if Crane was just humoring him when he asked Heath over. They'd do Crane's chores and then help the little guys. Now that same family and work were helping Heath through the worst day of his life.

The kids chattered endlessly. Ford hung on behind Evan; Guthrie rode in front of Adam. Heath was almost able to forget what happened this morning, pretend it was an ordinary day on the ranch. Evan kept riding ahead, Daniel hurrying to catch up, Adam and Crane calling them back. Heath caught their concerned glances from time to time, and it was another reminder that this wasn't a regular day.

As Adam and Crane surveyed the grass and water levels in the creek, they taught the boys what to look for. Heath never said anything, but he was always listening, too. Something about ranching—cattle and horses and working the land—spoke to him. And on this day above all, he needed the peace. Crane and Adam had no idea what they'd done for him over the years.

The next morning, Heath was getting ready to leave. Crane was driving him home where Heath needed to help Rachel and Abigail with funeral arrangements. He dreaded the empty apartment. Or going to Rachel's or Abigail's place. Space was so limited; he hated putting them out, making them shift to find room. But what else could he do? Go to Uncle Matt's? Not hardly.

Heath still wasn't hungry, but he liked watching Guthrie play with his pancakes.

Brian slid a stack in front of Heath. "Eat up. I might not be so good at chicken dive-in, but pancakes I can do."

Heath eyed Brian skeptically, "Really?"

He managed to look offended. "Yes, really! Guys, how many days a week do we have pancakes?"

Daniel and Evan stopped eating to think, Ford started counting fingers. "Maybe four. Or five."

Guthrie piped up, "A lot. We like pancakes!"

Heath smiled at the youngest, "You like everything."

Guthrie nodded happily and went back to his sticky fork.

Heath shook his head with a grin. "Pass me the butter and syrup, will ya?"

Adam looked up from his plate and chewed thoughtfully, "Ya coming back tonight?"

Heath was startled, "Uh, well…"

Brian sat down with his plate, "No reason you shouldn't."

Heath looked at Crane who shrugged and nodded.

"I guess I could."

Adam put down his fork. "When you get done today, grab some clothes and come back. Evan, you and Ford don't mind bunking together a few more days, do ya?"

Evan didn't bother swallowing first. "Nope. 'Cept when he kicks me."

"I do not! You hog the covers!"

Daniel looked over at them, "You two are such babies. Shut up."

"Don't call me that, Daniel, or I'm gonna hit you!"

Adam called them down, "Hey, we don't hit each other."

Crane muttered under his breath, "…Much."

Heath couldn't stop his grin.

Adam sternly eyed Daniel, Ford, and Evan. "You can tolerate each other for a few days."

Guthrie was swirling his finger through the remaining syrup in his plate. "Heaf, you should live wif us."

Heath grinned at the little guy. "I wish I could, kiddo. I wish I could."

The following morning, Heath looked down at another stack of pancakes. Brian was right; they were pretty good.

Heath was trying to be careful of his good clothes. Only decent set he had and he was wearing them to his mother's funeral. He glanced around the table. Brian and Adam were in suit jackets that once belonged to their father. Crane wore a shirt and tie, the little guys in button downs.

"Ya know, I think Guthrie had a good idea."

Heath glanced briefly at Adam before checking to make sure his fork wouldn't drip syrup.

"You could live with us."

Heath breathed a sigh. "Ha ha. Very funny."

"It wasn't a joke."

Heath looked up for real. "What do you mean?"

Adam glanced at Brian and Crane. "We talked about it yesterday. Why not?"

"Well, for one thing, you don't have room. I can't ask Evan and Ford to sleep together every night for forever. Daniel wants back in his own bed in his own room."

"Well, Mom and Dad's bed is in the attic. We could set it up…under the stairs or something."

Heath shook his head regretfully, knowing it was impossible. "Look, I appreciate the offer, but—"

"Heath, what's one more? We can make room. You're already here half the time anyhow. You're seventeen, so you're right on the cusp of the foster system. I'm already legal guardian for these guys. If Mrs. Caulfield and Ms. James agree, I can't imagine the authorities would mind. You could live here, go to school, work with us. After you graduate, you can decide what to do next. You're already part of the family. And families take care of each other."

Brian and Crane both nodded agreement with Adam's matter-of-fact plan. Heath didn't know what to think. It would solve a lot of problems. And Heath had always felt so at home here. But maybe he shouldn't be making a decision this big right now. He glanced at the younger McFaddens. They sat looking at Heath with big eyes. "What do you guys think?"

Daniel and Ford nodded.

Evan looked hopeful, "You can ride Mickey." Heath grinned slightly; Evan was offering his horse—his most prized possession.

Guthrie climbed into Heath's lap. "Yes. Stay wif us, Heaf."

Heath looked back at Adam, grateful beyond words for the offer. "I'll think about it. Talk to Rachel and Abigail. Thanks."

Adam bounced his brows in a reassuring shrug. "Take your time. We're not going anywhere."

SB4SB

Hannah's pie was definitely better than Brian's. "This is really good."

"Thanks. You're in Stockton now, right?"

Heath nodded briefly. After the press coverage, most of California knew he was in Stockton.

"How's that going? Living with your father's family?"

"A little touch and go at the beginning, but they're good people."

"Do they care about you?"

"Seem to. Mrs. Barkley, she's…something else. Still haven't figured exactly why she'd want me there with the scandal and all. And the family's on board."

Hannah looked concerned. "Is that enough?"

Heath grinned, "Well, I guess I don't know how to explain. Maybe 'cause I don't really understand why it works either."

She smiled, "When your mother died, you didn't know who your father was, right?"

Heath nodded with a deep breath. "Yeah. Mom worked in the office for the Barkley-Sierra Mine. Figure that's where she met Tom Barkley. There was a labor dispute, and he was up here a lot. Stayed with his Uncle Peter who was also part owner. Anyhow, Tom and my mother had an affair, the labor dispute was resolved, he went back to his wife. After it was over, to completely sever ties, he traded his share of the mine to his uncle for a piece of land. My mom never told him about me.

"Then Peter's wife, Alice, found out my mother was pregnant. She didn't think an unmarried pregnant woman ought to be working for their company, so my mother was fired for low morals. Don't reckon Miss Alice ever knew Tom was the father either. So my mother moved to Angel's Camp and took whatever job came along…bookkeeping, office manager, retail, whatever paid the bills."

"And Tom never knew?"

"Nope. Abigail James, who helped my mother raise me, she found a letter from Tom in some of my mom's things a few months ago. He wished her well, said he was sorry. Said he hoped she would find the right man and have a family. Nothing about a kid on the way. Or getting rid of one."

Hannah looked sympathetic. "Meanwhile, he's rich with a big ranch, investments in timber and mining and shipping and who knows what else. On the City Council. You don't feel resentful?"

"I did when I was younger. When I think about Mom struggling to raise me, it don't seem fair. But then, it's hard to blame a man if he don't know he's got a kid."

"He coulda checked."

"And he shoulda. But he was trying to save his marriage. I can see that he might cut all ties. I guess I understand both sides, and I've just decided to let the past be the past. It can't be changed. If Mrs. Barkley can see her way clear to take in her husband's son by another woman, I can look past my father's mistakes and see it ain't his family's fault neither."

Hannah smiled, "Well, if they're good people, then that sounds like the right decision." She paused, "Now, tell me about the shooting. I read about it in the papers and Crane's told me a little, but I'd rather hear the whole story from you."

BV

1981

Heath stepped out of the convenience store and stretched tired muscles. Long night. Heath was attending the police academy during the day and working security at night. He'd gone home to Carbon Country for a couple weeks after his discharge from the army, but the only ranching job he could find was with Russ Wheeler. No way he was gonna work for that turkey. And he didn't want to tend bar or clerk at the hardware. Adam and the boys had invited him back home—and Heath did think of the Circle Bar Seven as home—but they had enough on their plates without having to worry about feeding Heath Thomson. Just as he hadn't wanted to add to Rachel and Abigail's worries when his mother died, he didn't want to add to the McFaddens' now.

So instead, he'd come up to Sacramento and applied to the police academy. In the army, Heath found he was good with guns. Might as well put the ability to work in the real world. He was working the security job to pay the bills, but it made for long days and nights, though.

As he started to climb in the old Cherokee he bought when he got his discharge, he glanced over at the vehicles sitting at the gas pumps. Two men were climbing in a black GMC. On the seat between them, Heath glimpsed an AK-47. He felt the adrenaline surge just knowing the amount of lead a gun like that could lay down. The GMC pulled out as he memorized the plate number. Nevada tags. Heath put the Jeep in gear and started following a couple of cars back.

Going along, easy as pie, the GMC followed all the traffic laws. Complete stops, signaling, the whole nine yards. Heath stayed back, trying to come up with a good reason for two men to have a military assault rifle on a bright Tuesday morning. Finally, he reached for the CB. The emergency operator relayed his information to the city police and county sheriff who instructed Heath to maintain pursuit and keep them apprised of his location. They were en route to intercept.

The GMC pulled over in front of a coffee shop downtown. The passenger walked to an alley while the driver waited in the truck. Heath got out of his Jeep and stood out of sight two doors away. In a few minutes, a dark headed man with a brief case exited the coffee shop and started toward Heath. The GMC's passenger, now in a mask and carrying a pistol, followed the man as the driver exited the truck, holding the AK just out of sight. Instantly, Heath saw the plan: hit man and backup.

Heath burst out of the doorway and shoved the dark headed man—the target—to the ground. Heath wrenched away the hit man's pistol and slammed the guy's head into the side of the truck. Heath vaulted into the bed, yelling, "Get down! Gun! Everybody get down!"

The backup with the AK-47 started firing, and Heath wasn't sure how he didn't get hit. Maybe it was the surprise, or maybe the guy just wasn't used to a semi-automatic. Guns like that had a way of hitting things indiscriminately. Heath had to get that gun or innocent bystanders might be shot.

He tackled the shooter, hoping to knock the man senseless, but the guy was bigger than Heath expected. They struggled as people started screaming and sirens split the air. They wrestled for control of the gun with Heath landing a punch for every one or two of the other guy's. Heath got kicked off into the side of the truck and was expecting to be dead when the dark headed man—the target!—plowed into the shooter from the flank. The perp clearly wasn't expecting an attack from that angle, and he went down for the count as police cars finally rolled up. Heath kicked the AK-47 away from the shooter and raised his hands to show he wasn't armed.

"Freeze!"

The dark headed target held his hands up too. "I'm Jarrod Barkley!"

Heath stood beside the pickup, trying to place the name. Jarrod Barkley... Oh, yeah, big case at the state supreme court. Something about a land dispute with the railroad. Stockton.

Two officers approached Heath with raised weapons. "Don't move!"

Barkley eased forward, "No, he stopped them. He saved my life. And everyone else out here."

The officer examined Heath, "Identify yourself."

"Heath Thomson. I'm a cadet at the police academy. I called it in."

The officer nodded slowly. "Yeah, they said to be on the lookout for you. Wait here." Officers began swarming the scene.

Barkley observed Heath with a slight smile and put out his hand. "Mr. Thomson? Jarrod Barkley. I'm in your debt."

Heath shook his hand. "Mr. Barkley."

"How did you know?"

Heath briefed the man on his identification of the suspects. Then quite suddenly, they were all taken to police headquarters for questioning and statements. Someone called the academy, and Barkley got a continuance in court.

Hours later, they were thrust into the glare of cameras and reporters anxious for the story on the assassination attempt. Barkley handled the media with practiced aplomb; Heath stood like a fence post and answered mostly with monosyllables. How did he get into this mess?

Finally, Barkley called an end to the press conference. "That's enough for today. Now, if you'll excuse us, I'm taking the man who saved my life to dinner. Thank you!" He ushered Heath through the door behind the podium, and Heath managed to breathe again.

"You don't have to come to dinner if you'd rather not, but I would like to sit down with you—if not tonight, then sometime soon. My family has driven up, and I know my mother would like to thank you personally. As do I, of course."

Heath was overwhelmed by the events of the day. He'd been dog tired when it started, then the shooting, then the debriefing, then the press conference, and now, a grateful victim and his family. He ached from the fight, and it had been forever since he'd slept. Although he'd rather go home and crawl in bed, Heath decided to just get it over with. No reason to drag this out longer than necessary. The Barkleys would say, 'Thank you,' and then Heath could get back to the real world. "Sure, okay. Dinner."

Jarrod Barkley smiled. "Excellent. I'll make a call, and we'll go."

Heath waited, leaning against the wall in fatigue. Barkley had a politician's smile, but in person, the man seemed genuine. But at this point, after the day he'd had, Heath's judgment was probably a little flawed. More than likely, Barkley was just another slimy lawyer.

SB4SB

"So I met his family at dinner. His mother, two brothers, and a sister. Jarrod is the oldest. He's a criminal attorney and also oversees all the legal aspects of the family businesses. Then Nick. He runs the ranch and takes care of most day to day operations. Audra's at Stanford, and Gene's at Berkley." Heath paused with a wry grin, "I'm smack in the middle."

Hannah breathed a laugh. "But no one knew at that dinner who you were."

"No. But Mrs. Barkley noticed a resemblance to Tom Barkley's father. And she had Jarrod check out me out. When she found out my mom worked for the Barkley-Sierra during the labor dispute, it wasn't hard to figure."

Hannah shook her head in wonderment, "But she didn't have to tell you. She could have just swept it under the rug. You weren't looking for your father at that point."

Heath bounced his brows. "She's just not that kinda lady. And I doubt you are either."

Hannah pursed her lips. Since first hearing Heath's story from her husband and his brothers, she'd wondered many times if she could take in her husband's orphaned child. Yes, she likely would. "But she's society. Barkley is a big name around here. The scandal was…"

Heath sucked one side of his mouth. "Yeah, I finally find out who my father is. And his family wants me to come live with them. And they just happen to be the richest family in this part of the state. Boy howdy, talk about a wake up."

"So Mrs. Barkley wanted you. What about your brothers and sister?"

"Jarrod was cagey at first, but he came around pretty quick. That whole scene outside the coffee shop probably helped a lot. Audra…Audra's a minx. That girl is a boat load of trouble. She didn't believe who I was at first, but she's changed her mind. Gene… mostly, we're okay; I haven't had much time with him one on one. But he's eighteen—a man and a boy at the same time. He hardly knows if he's coming or going."

She waited for the final brother and finally prompted. "And Nick?"

Heath bit his lower lip and stared into his coffee cup. "Well…we got off to a rocky start. He and his father were close. Had him on a pedestal, ya know. He didn't want to bring in the bastard kid, sully his father's reputation. But after she told me who I was, Mrs. Barkley invited me to the ranch. I really didn't know what to think, so I took a leave from the academy and went down to visit for a couple weeks. But I couldn't just sit around, so I went to work with Nick. If there's one thing he appreciates, it's hard work. And we kinda started competing…first one up in the morning, first one to the barn, first one to finish a job. Kinda like Daniel and Evan…except less fun.

"So when it was time for me to go home, they sat me down for a family meeting. Mrs. Barkley asked me to stay and be part of the family. I didn't expect it. I figured they'd just throw some cash around and ask me to keep quiet. But Audra had a statement for the media, and Jarrod was already altering the financial stuff to give me an equal share of everything. And they planned to make an announcement no matter what. Whether I stayed or not, everything was gonna change—for me and them both.

"I called Crane and Adam, talked to them. They both said I should give it a try. That was eight, nine months ago—right before you got married."

Hannah smiled, "And since then?"

Heath grinned, "Well, Nick and I have gone a round or two, but we've ironed things out. And next to your family, I can't imagine anyone I'd rather have for a brother."

"Heath, that's just a wonderful story. You deserve to be happy…to finally have a home."

The young man pulled a crooked smile. "I've had lots of homes, including this one. And my mother would have scolded me fierce for staying away so long. But I thought with everything going on with me…and you settling in here, maybe you didn't need another 'brother' fouling things up." He lifted one brow, "I hear Brian gave you a rough time." He paused, "And I'm guessing Crane didn't take to you with open arms neither."

Hannah searched for a good answer. Whatever she said might get back to the guys. "Well, Adam could have handled it differently—with both me and his brothers. But then we might not have gotten married. So it was a little rough, but it's all worked out for the best."

"That's the kind of answer Jarrod might come up with." Heath eased into a soft grin. "It's not easy to come into this family. But I think you got the stones."

Hannah smiled in gratitude. Seemed like she might have an ally in brother number eight. "Well, I'm thrilled you're here and all, but why did you decide to come visit now?"

"Told ya. Saw ya on T.V."

"Oh. That." Hannah breathed a long sigh.

"Adam didn't seem real excited."

"Yeah. He's not very happy with me right now. I know I should just let it go."

"Why don't ya?"

She shook her head, still bewildered by the whole mess. "I don't know. My great-grandmother taught there, but… Adam, Brian, and Crane—they all went to that school, and they don't care. So why should I? I don't understand it either." She looked hopeful. "Did you go to school there?"

Heath shook his head, "I didn't meet Crane till junior high."

"So you don't understand either."

He grinned, "Maybe not your reasons, but I got my own."

She looked at him in complete shock. "You're on my side?"

His eyes twinkled, "Need some help?"

"Think you can convince your brothers I'm right?"

"We are talking about the same McFaddens, right? Those guys gotta come to it on their own, or it ain't gonna happen."

Hannah nodded ruefully. "Yeah, that was stupid." She eyed him thoughtfully, "Why are you on my side?"

Heath glanced away briefly. "Well, a few reasons. Not really sure I can explain 'em in any way that makes sense. But—"

The front door banged open, and Hannah heard Guthrie come in. "Hey! Whose Cherokee is that?" The youngest walked in from the laundry room. "Hannah, whose—"

"Hey, kiddo." Heath's grin split his face.

"Heath!" Guthrie flew into Heath's arms. "What are you doing here? Do the guys know? When did you get here?"

Heath tousled Guthrie's hair. "I came to visit. No. Maybe an hour or two."

Hannah doubted Guthrie had a clue that Heath answered each of his questions. And probably didn't care a whit. Heath was here, and that was clearly all that mattered.

"Hey! How's Stockton? How's your new family?" Guthrie still hadn't let him go.

"Good. Different. Sure not the same as around here."

"But you like it."

Heath nodded, "You need to come see me."

"Really? You'd let me?"

"Let you? Since when have you ever done a thing I told ya to do?"

Guthrie grinned, "Pretty much never. But…" He paused for a second, and his smile faded, "What about your new family? They might not want me there."

"Hey, now. Just 'cause I got a new family don't mean I'm not part of this one. The Barkleys take me, they take the people I'm part of. And I'm part of here. Right?"

Guthrie nodded decisively. "Right."

Hannah took advantage of the pause. "Hello, Guthrie."

He turned quickly, keeping his arms around Heath's waist. Heath wrapped an arm around Guthrie's shoulder. "Oh hi, Hannah."

"'Oh hi, Hannah.'" She mimicked him.

Guthrie grinned, "You finally met Heath."

"Yes, finally."

Heath spoke up, "You still sleeping under the stairs?"

"Yeah, but now Brian's with me. Since Hannah moved in."

"Well, where am I gonna sleep?"

Guthrie shrugged, "You could ask Ford to bunk with Evan again, but I'm betting you're gonna have to take the couch."

Heath looked at Hannah as he closed an arm around Guthrie's neck and mocked a strangle. Guthrie struggled to get free. "Did you know he started sleeping in that bed 'cause of me?"

Hannah grinned, "I've always wondered how he ended up in the living room."

"That's where I slept when I moved in. And this little twerp decides he wants to sleep in the big bed too. So I ended up sharing."

Guthrie finally shrugged out of the hold, his hair sticking up after the struggle. "Well, I'm sharing again. At least Brian doesn't snore."

Heath tried to look indignant, but he was fighting a grin. "I do not snore."

Guthrie's insolent stare indicated the exact opposite. The wordless confrontation continued till Guthrie sprinted out the kitchen door. Heath tore after him, leaving Hannah in their wake.

Yep, Heath fit in perfectly.

BV

Jarrod Barkley set his brief case on the foyer table and picked up the mail. He riffled through the envelopes on his way to the parlor but found nothing that couldn't wait. He was pouring a scotch when the front door burst open. No one but Nick came in like that.

"Heath! Where the devil are ya, boy?!"

Jarrod sipped his scotch and then picked up the bourbon for Nick. And despite the yelling, Jarrod was pretty sure he could hear his mother coming from the back of the house.

"Heath!"

Maybe Jarrod could nip the yelling in the bud. "Good evening, Brother Nick. What seems to be the problem?"

Nick looked around, frustrated. "Do you know where that brother of ours is?"

"No, where?"

"That's what I'm asking!"

Jarrod tried to hold back his grin. "Oh. I thought it was a quiz…like 'Who shot J.R.?'"

Nick pulled a face and turned back to yell for Heath again.

Fortunately, their mother interrupted, "Nick, please don't yell." She kissed him on the cheek and then came into the parlor. "Jarrod, how was your day?"

He tipped his head to her, "Productive, thank you. And yours?"

She accepted the sherry and kissed his cheek as well. "Fine. What's Nick yelling about?"

"He seems to have lost Heath."

"Ah." Victoria bounced her brows as if that was the most normal thing in the world. Which wasn't all that far off. Heath brought a number of positives to their family, but one of the nicest (in Jarrod's opinion at least) was his little brother's innate ability to confound Nicholas Jonathan Barkley more than anyone on the planet. The whole family enjoyed watching the two of them go back and forth.

"Iris! Iris!"

Jarrod breathed a laugh. Their housekeeper was the previous record holder for Nick irritation. This was just an all around stellar night for Nick watching.

"Iris!"

The short, middle aged black lady who'd worked for the Barkleys since Jarrod was born came from the kitchen. "I'm just three rooms away, Nick! You don't gotta call me like I'm on the moon."

"Oh, there ya are. Where's Heath?"

"I don't know." Sarcastic with Nick as always. She was one of the few who got away with it.

"What do ya mean ya don't know?"

"You know, when I don't know something, I don't generally mislead people by telling 'em I do. That'd be lying. So when I say, 'I don't know,' I actually mean I don't know."

"Well, where is he? He was supposed to be supervising the fence crew, but Mac just told me Heath handed it off to Wylie. And his Cherokee's gone."

"Nick, I don't run your ranch. How many ways do I gotta say, I don't know where Heath is?"

"Well, you usually know just about everything. I kinda expect it."

Iris nodded thoughtfully. "Well, I reckon that is true. I sure know everything about you…where you are, what you want, what you're thinking. So don't be planning on getting away with nothing around me. I ain't gonna tolerate that."

"No, ma'am." Nick frowned, "You really don't know where he is?"

Iris rolled her eyes in exaggerated fashion. "I really don't know. But you might go check the study. He mighta left you a note. On your desk. By the phone. With that horse paperweight sitting on it."

Nick blew out a breath in frustration. "Why didn't you say so in the first place and saved all this yakking back and forth?!"

"One, you didn't ask me did he leave you a note. You asked me did I know where he was. Which I don't. And two, wouldn't have been near as much fun as yanking your chain."

Jarrod laughed and caught his mother doing the same as Nick growled and stomped off toward the study. Iris winked at them, "Miz B, dinner be ready in about fifteen minutes if he'll let me finish."

"Thank you, Iris. Just ignore him till you're done."

Nick wandered back into the parlor looking a little concerned as he read the aforementioned note.

Victoria caught the change in his demeanor. "What is it, Nick?"

"I don't know." He looked puzzled.

Jarrod took his brother's drink over so he could see the note.

In Heath's small, neat hand, Jarrod read:

"Family business in Murphys. Sorry for the short notice. Heath."

Hmm.

Jarrod thought briefly about what might be going on in Murphys. They had a decent piece of land in Carbon County, but he didn't recall anything that would require Heath's presence.

Nick handed the paper to their mother. She seemed nonplussed after reading it.

Jarrod couldn't figure what might have happened. "What do you think, Nick?"

"I…don't know. He didn't mention anything. But then he doesn't usually have much to say anyhow. Mother?"

"He's not said anything to me. I wish I'd been up when he left."

"He apparently took off before breakfast. I assumed he was already with the crew—didn't know he wasn't till just before I came in." Nick paused, then shrugged one shoulder. "Bet he's gone to see that lady who helped raise him."

Victoria turned her head in a slight negative shake. "No, Abigail lives in Angel's Camp. His other family is in Murphys."

When she said that, Jarrod remembered the private investigator's report. After Heath's mother died, he lived with some friends in Murphys for a year while he finished high school.

Nick looked a little alarmed, "The guys with the ranch?"

She nodded briefly. "Yes."

Unease twisted Jarrod's stomach. Heath was a surprisingly accomplished cowboy when he came to them because he had natural talent and had learned the business from this other family. Heath wasn't overly generous with details of his youth, but it was clear he cared about the McFaddens. He said he owed them, counting them second only to his mother and the two ladies who helped her raise him. Jarrod didn't have a great deal of information about this family, but he remembered their ranch was struggling a bit. Was Heath thinking of moving back there? Did they need that kind of help?

SB4SB

Crane led his horse into the dark barn and waited for his eyes to adjust as he stretched out a few kinks. Despite his preference for more modern ranching techniques, he still spent a good chunk of time on horseback. As he started unsaddling Gypsy, he caught snatches of conversation from the back stall. Evan was talking to someone about Diablo's leg surgery.

When Crane finished with his horse, he headed back to see who his brother was talking to. His breath caught when he recognized their visitor. "Well, look what the cat dragged in."

His best friend was kneeling to inspect Diablo's scar. Heath's lips twitched as he stood up. "The bad penny."

Crane fought his grin. "Come to visit the poor relations?"

"Something like that."

They both started laughing at the same time and embraced. Crane gripped Heath tightly, "Well, whatever the reason, it's about time you showed up. Good to see ya."

"You, too."

Crane jerked his head toward the door, and they walked out together. So much had happened to them both in the last few months, Crane hardly knew where to start. "You met Hannah?"

Heath nodded, "You told me, but I gotta say, I'm impressed. Adam's got quite a girl there."

"Yes, he does."

They ambled across the yard. Heath kept his voice low, "What about your lady?"

Crane sighed, missing Molly. "Yeah. We stay in touch as much as we can…letters, phone calls. But it's hard. I tell ya, Heath, I'm done for. She's the one."

"No doubt?"

"None. She's everything."

"Well, I hope it works out, Crane. You deserve it."

Crane glanced at Heath. "What about you? Anyone special now that you're a wealthy rancher?"

His friend looked dissatisfied. "Thought there was. But her father had a problem with my shady birth."

"You're kidding?"

Heath glanced away, and Crane could tell it was still a little raw. "Sorry."

"Not like he's alone."

"But your family…"

"Is fine. Just other people don't always approve of their decision. Maria's father, for one."

They walked a bit further. Crane tried another idea, "What about Sarah? Have you heard from her since your discharge?"

Heath shoved Crane's shoulder, pushing him off stride. "Buddy, you oughta quit when you're ahead. Yeah, I heard from Sarah. She became a nun."

Crane's mouth dropped in surprise. "I-I, uh… I hadn't heard that."

Heath shook his head and grinned, "Boy Howdy, she was so in love with me that she went into a convent."

Crane bit his lips together to keep from laughing. "I didn't know you had such an effect on women."

"Yeah." Heath breathed a laugh as they walked up the porch steps.