Chapter Four

A/N There will be episodes mentioned that may or may not be in order they actually came in. Since this is A/U anyway, don't think it really matters.

Guest: I was told more than once in college to never assume anything.

~oOo~

As Heath pushed the horse he was riding forward; he barely noticed the trees that were beginning to appear more and more. His mind was on his family and all the good times, along with the bad, they'd had. The first memory, of course, was when he met Nick on the bridge. He couldn't help let out a small chuckle, even if the memory now brought a bittersweet feeling to him. He then began running through all his other memories. He could see Jarrod handing him the cigar at Sample's farm and hear Nick bellowing in the dining room. Of course, Heath had never told Nick he could hear him the moment he stepped into the house. Why should he when it was already a known fact that the moment Nick started yelling everyone, and everything, in the house could hear him?

Heath shuttered slightly as he could Audra standing with a pistol in her hands and Handy Random dead on the ground, and then chuckled as he thought on Eugene. That boy might not be around a lot only contributed just as much to the family as did anyone else. Hadn't it been Eugene that had fetched the doctor who knew all about 'those things called germs' in order to save the cattle? Okay, the poor boy had to suffer teasing from Nick and himself as they joked about the germs and fairies. The chuckle quickly died out though as Heath thought on just how far the lad's schooling and occupation was really taking him. The family seldom saw him anymore. Though, to Gene's credit, the boy was writing constantly.

Heath's mind then turned to Victoria. It never ceased to amaze him how she'd opened up her arms and welcomed him into the family. Not many women he knew of would accept their husband's bastard child into their home the way she had…or defend him the way she did. She would always hold a special place in his heart, no matter what happened.

As the last of the memories ran through his mind, Heath thought on the letter he'd left with the small town attorney who lived in Lodi. He had paid the man well to deliver the letter to the family if he, Heath, did not return within the time he'd specified. If it came down to that, all Heath could do was pray that his family would, eventually, forgive him. As hurt as they might be, he did not wish to put them in harm's way.

Heath was so lost in his thoughts that he had to quickly duck to avoid hitting a branch, one that was protruding out of a tree that stood alongside the path he traveling on. "Boy howdy," he muttered himself, "best keep my attention on the road if I don't want to land on my back." Anything else he was going to say never came out of his mouth as he heard the snapping of a twig. Without half thinking, he had his rifle out of its sheath and ready to fire it if necessary.

"Put the gun away, mister. Ain't no one around out to kill ya." A gentleman who stood at least six feet five with black hair that to the middle of his back and a beard to match, the beard was just as long, walked out through the trees and out onto the road. The stranger had buckskin pants, a white shirt and a buckskin jacket whose sleeves were line with fringes, along with brown boots that went clear up to the man's knees.

Heath found himself quite irritated to find himself with unwanted company, and almost snapped at the man. While he was able to control the impulse, it unsettled Heath since he didn't know if he was irritable because he was overly tense or if it was actually a sign of rabies that most likely lived inside him now. "Sorry, you caught me off guard." Heath kept the apology short, hoping the man wouldn't take up too much of his, Heath's, time.

Andrew W Philips was a fifty year old mountain man. He'd roamed hills and mountains since his parents had been killed by the Sioux, and that had been twenty five years ago. Not that he'd been alone all that time, he hadn't. He'd had a wife and son, but his wife had died when his son was ten; where the boy was now was anybody's guess. Andrew had met many men in those years and he knew when someone didn't want company. However, unlike many men, Andrew also had the gift of knowing when someone needed company. He was also bright enough to know the blonde haired stranger wasn't going to just invite him along for the ride either. Well, he'd tracked many things in his life, guess he could track this fellow and keep an eye on him. "I'm the one who should be apologizin'," Andrew smiled and gave the raccoon hat he wore a slight tip, "I do have a tendency ta walk too quiet fer most men. It's a habit I've developed over the years, come in handy more than once." Okay, so the fact that he'd made friends with a few good Indians and other mountain men through the years and they'd taught him to walk so as to be unheard was beside the point. Though, in this case, the talent of walking without being heard might come in handy.

Heath slid his rifle back into its sheath. "Well, you really should be careful not to spook a man. It could get you killed." He snapped ever so slightly, wishing the man would just leave him alone.

"I should at that." Mr. Philips said as he walked across the path and disappeared through the trees on the opposite side. Since it's not like the trees were standing right next to each, it sent more than one chill down Heath's back as he watched the man practically disappear right in front of his eyes even if that wasn't the case. Though, Heath didn't linger and ponder on it. He had a trip to make and the sooner he made it the better.