Chapter 1

Walking out of the bank, Heath placed the deposit slip in his wallet. He would have to sit down this evening and balance the books before the upcoming auction but right now he needed a beer. The best place for that was the saloon. Walking through the doors he returned the greetings of the other men before ordering a beer and taking it to the table. Placing his hat on the table, Heath ran his hand through his hair, taking a long pull from his beer. Closing his eyes at the cool pleasure he relaxed.

It had been a long hard week but after all the hard work, they were almost ready for winter. The fences had been mended, the winterfeed harvested, the last of the summer fruit crops picked and the nuts almost harvested. The next few weeks would put the final touches on the winter preparations. The men would be able to relax and take time off. As he sat going over all the things that still needed to be done he absently noticed the two tall men that had entered the saloon. Not an unusual occurrence, but there was something about the second one that seemed familiar. Heath watched the two men sit at a table in the far corner, their backs against the wall. Heath had seen many a man who lived by the gun take the same position.

Accepting another beer from the waitress, Heath could not shake the feeling that he knew one of them from somewhere. The larger of the two men ordered whiskey. In fact, he bellowed it so loud that for a moment he reminded Heath of how Nick would shout at the top of his lungs. He wished he knew where his older brother was, but in the year and half since he had rode from the ranch they had not received any word from him.

Looking over at the door Heath noticed another stranger enter the saloon. The way he wore his gun, how he moved, how his eyes took in everything told Heath that this man was a hired killer. As he watched he saw him approach the table of the two strangers throwing something onto the tabletop. The one man placed a restraining hand on the big bear of a man, standing slowly. He was too far away to hear the soft-spoken conversation but he saw the killer's hand flex in answer to it. Heath stared in disbelief as the tall one tipped his hat back off his head, his face coming into view. He watched as the killer drew his gun but the other man was faster, putting a hole in the chest of the killer. The tall man took whatever had been thrown onto the tabletop and tossed it onto the killer's dead body. The tall man gulped the last of his whiskey, dropped some coins on the table, and walked out. The big bear of a man reached down removing something from the dead man's shirt pocket before standing, turning and following the other man outside. Heath caught a glimpse of the two as they rode down the street. Raising his beer to his lips, Heath's hand shook as he remembered the face that he had just seen, his brother Nick!

"Nick! Dammit Nick, wait," shouted Connor as he galloped after the cowboy. Pulling up next to Satan, Connor looked at the man he had come to know over the last year. "What the hell is the hurry? One minute we're riding slow and the next you're riding as if the hounds of hell were after you. Now what is going on? I thought this was your home?"

At the mention of home Nick pulled Satan up hard. "I have no home," Nick ground out. "Now, are we riding or are you going to sit here all day?" Spurring Satan on Nick did not wait for an answer from the large man.

Shaking his head at the stubbornness of his friend Connor followed him knowing eventually Nick would tell him what was wrong. Of course, Connor thought, with Nick that could be tonight, tomorrow or next week. One thing his friend was not was talkative. In fact, for such a large man Nick was perhaps the quietest man he had ever met. His voice never rose above a normal tone. He knew that he had a formidable temper but even at its worse Nick never raised his voice. If it were possible he got even quieter. Connor knew Nick probably better than anyone did. He knew that he had grown up on a ranch in this valley, that he had three brothers and a sister. That his father had been killed and his mother was still alive. He knew that his family was extremely important to him but what Connor didn't know was why he felt he had to leave.

He knew Nick was not a coward or a wanted man. 'Kind of hard to be either when you are a Ranger even if they weren't Rangers by choice,' thought Connor.

What Nick Barkley was though was a haunted man. Something had driven him from his home and family, Connor had pieced together some of what had happened from Nick's fevered ramblings a few months back but he still didn't know the whole story. Maybe he never would but he owed Nick Barkley his life and whether Nick liked it or not he was going to help his friend bury whatever ghosts haunted him.

Watching his friend through the firelight Connor shook his head at the pure stubbornness of him. They had set camp next to a nice stream. After bedding down the horses and catching dinner the men relaxed around the fire. If anyone tried to enter camp the third member of their party would alert them. Connor ran his hand through the thick fur of Dog still amazed at the almost unnatural rapport that Nick had with him. When they had discovered him months back Dog was starving, half-wild and injured. Connor had thought that it would be best to put the animal out of his misery but Nick soothed, cajoled and nursed the animal back to health. Since that time Dog had become an integral part of their team. He had saved their lives a few times when Connor was sure that they were dead.

"We'll stop by the grave tomorrow then we will head up to the high country to find Simmons," Nick said. "Get some sleep. Dog will let us know if we have any visitors. Right, Dog?"

Dog raised his head, cocking it to the side as if in agreement.

"Ok Nick," answered Connor, tossing the remains of his coffee away. Tipping his hat to cover his face Connor fell asleep.

Riding along, Connor noticed that Nick was quieter than usual. As they approached the gravesite Connor watched as Nick dismounted. Letting Satan stand Nick walked the last few feet to the grave. Dismounting, Connor took Satan's and Thunder's reins securing them to a tree limb. Following Nick to the gravesite he stood back as he watched his friend pay his respects to his father. The growl from Dog and the answering whinny from their horses announced the arrival of someone else. Connor looked up to see a silver haired woman dismount from a dappled mare. He watched as she walked toward them, Dog continuing to growl a warning. At Nick's soft command Dog quieted. Connor watched as she came closer, obviously not recognizing them.

"This is private property," Connor heard her say.

"We were just paying our respects, 'mam," Connor answered smiling. "Connor Owens 'mam," holding his hand out.

Taking his hand she answered, "Victoria Barkley."

"This is your husband then 'mam?"

"Yes, Mr. Owens. My husband was killed nine years ago in a dispute with the railroad. He left myself, four sons, and a daughter."

"I'm sorry 'mam," Connor offered his condolences. "Four sons, you say? All good men?"

"Yes, I like to think so," answered Victoria. "My eldest Jarrod is a lawyer. Heath manages the ranch. Eugene is finishing his studies to be a doctor. And Audra, my daughter enjoys being the only girl."

"You said four sons 'mam, but you only mentioned three," Connor observed.

"My second oldest Nicholas left over a year ago. We have had no word from him. I am not sure if he is alive or not," Victoria said softly.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Barkley, I did not mean to upset you," Connor apologized. "My friend and I will take our leave of you. Thank you." Turning to Nick Connor asked, "Coming?"

Nodding his head Nick called softly to Dog, walking away from his father's grave and his mother's side. Watching the men walk away Victoria couldn't shake the feeling that she knew the other man, his walk, size and his bearing somehow familiar. Watching him swing into the saddle, his face visible for a moment Victoria clutched the headstone of her husband's grave. It was Nick and he was alive!