Chapter One

Her throat felt dry as she swallowed hard, trying to raise the courage she'd need to go out to his ranch. His ranch. Well, his family's ranch. She shivered at the thought of it. Stop stalling, she told herself. You should have done this years ago, but at least you're here in Stockton now. Take it as a sign and go on out there. Drawing herself tall, she stepped out on to the sidewalk and headed for the livery. Just down the block, the man had told her, she could rent a nice buggy, then added, "Barkley Ranch? Well, yes Ma'am, most everyone around these parts knows where it is. Depending what you need, though, Mr. Jarrod Barkley, the lawyer, his office is here in town. Just down the street as a matter of fact."

She smiled and nodded, wondering if the lawyer might be in town. Might not need quite so much courage to get to an office here in town. But, no. And, really, she needed to talk to his mother and father anyway. That's the way it should be. Glancing down the block, she began to cross the street, fixing her gaze on the livery stable. She was halfway across when she saw him coming out of the general store, talking animatedly with a blond haired man, the two obviously joking about something. She froze as her mind struggled to consider the possibility. It looked like him, but it couldn't be, she told herself. But it was. He was older but the broad gestures were still there, the grin was the same, and then there was the slightest movement. Some might not have even noticed it, but when he dusted off his hat, then swept the renegade lock of black hair back before he fixed the hat firmly to his head, she had no doubt. It was him, had to be. Yet still she stood there, not moving, her mind insisting that it couldn't be him, her lungs forgetting how to breathe even as her heart began to sing. And suddenly, there were flashes of movement around her, a woman screaming, and the two men turned and stared at her and even from down the street, she saw the recognition in his eyes and saw his face blanch just before she realized the stagecoach was looming toward her.

Nick and Heath both turned at the sound of the yelling and they stood there, unable to do anything to help the young woman as the stage headed straight for her, too far away to help but close enough to see the expression on her face. But only one of the two men understood that she was in a state of shock and confusion that had nothing to do with the approaching stage and everything to do with seeing Nick Barkley.

Nick stared, his heart stopping at the very sight of her. It had been eight, no, nine years since he'd seen her but he had never forgotten her. He still remembered the deep blue of her eyes, the dark hair that felt like silk between his fingers. He remembered the soft lilt her voice could have when she was happy, and the edge that it could get when she was angered. He remembered the calm she could show in the most desperate situations, and the passion she could display when things were calm. And he remembered the way, then as now, the sight of her could overwhelm his being, the taste of her kisses, the smell of her skin, the sound of her whispering in his ears, and the feel of her in his arms could cause everything else in the world to cease to exist. He remembered everything.

Her eyes bore into his and he stared back, his own eyes reflecting the same level of confusion as was in hers but that was quickly replaced by a look of horror as he realized the stage was upon her. He bolted toward her, fighting to get to her, not even realizing it when his feet left the ground as Heath wrapped his arms around his older brother, holding him back from path of the stage.

Moments later, they watched for the briefest of moments as the dust settled around her body lying in the street. She groaned as pain swept through her, and coughed as the dirt entered her lungs.

Nick pulled out of his brother's grasp and raced across the street, dropping to his knees and gathering her body in his arms. "It's Nick, sweetheart. Look at me, open your eyes," he growled, the smallest amount of relief washing over him as her eyes fluttered open.

She drew in a shuddered breath and her gaze met his, only for her to shrink away from him, closing her eyes hard. "It can't be," she whispered, her voice breaking as she opened her eyes to look back up at him, her hands shaking as she reached up to touch his face. The anguish in her voice was undeniable. "They told me you were dead. You were on the casualty list, killed in action."

His heart ached as the pain in her voice reached his core. "What? No," he insisted, shaking his head, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Her eyes misted over as a look of hope crossed her face. "I'm guessing they were wrong."

He shared a wry smile with her as he pulled her tightly to him, his voice raspy as he whispered into her hair, "As wrong as the reports of your death."

(Ah yes, assume holes in the Barkley time space continuum and just go with the dates as presented, a la BV style.)