It had been over a week since Heath had ridden out toward Strawberry. When he returned, he hadn't said anything to any of us. Nick and Jarrod tried to get him to talk about it, but soon gave up.
Rounding up my horses and getting them branded took up most of the week and gave the boys an outlet for their anger, though they never showed it towards each other.
I would look at the young fillies and mares, selecting the ones that I would use as broodmares. There were several nice colts, but none that I really liked. The boys gelded them and put them in the pen with the stuff that needed to be broke.
"Miss May, you have just over a hundred head that can go to market. There is fifty head of breeding stock that you can either leave up or kick back out to the pasture," reported Nick. I smiled when he said my name. It had been a chore to get them to quit calling me Mrs. Roberts or ma'am - two names that made me feel older than I was. We were standing at the corral fence admiring the stock that I was going to keep when Heath came over mounted on his bay horse.
"Where ya headin boy?" asked Nick in his not so subtle way.
"I thought I would go visit Hannah. See if she needed anything."
"I'll ride along with ya." said Nick as he moved off to get his horse. Heath's quiet tone stopped him.
"No Nick. I need to be alone right now." Before Nick could reply Heath kicked his horse into a lope heading down the lane. Nick's face showed hurt; I patted him on the arm.
"It takes patience waiting for him to open up." I smiled at him, "Give him time, Nick."
"Til there isn't any left." replied Nick.
Heath hated to lie to his brother. He did need to be alone, but what he had in mind was a final confrontation with his aunt and uncle. He knew that his past was eating at his very soul, and the life line he held onto was the family he now had with the Barkleys.
Riding into Strawberry, the very smell of this place made him sick. All the town's building were in a state of decay. Weeds grew between the boardwalk, and the alleyways were choked with debris. The wind blew through broken windows making a moaning sound like a dying animal. One light of a match and there would be nothing left of the town.
Heath didn't hesitate until he pulled Charger to a stop in front of the hotel, then it was only a slight pause as he stepped down and looped the reins over the hitching post. Charger rubbed his head on the decaying wood. Heath gave him a small pat on the neck. All the emotions he had held in where now close to the surface.
The bell rang as Heath pushed open the hotel door. He shivered as the memories swirled around him like a twirling dancer. He looked around the dirty room noting that nothing had changed. It was the same worn rug on the floor and the same faded upholstered furniture.
"Well I wondered when you would show up," said a feminine voice in the doorway that leads to the dinning area. Heath turned to find Martha Simmons, her arms folded across her chest, leaning in the doorway.
"Matt said that the Barkleys were staying out at the old pony express station. He recognized Jarrod the day he rode in here for supplies. I am surprised they let you stay with them."
"What's that suppose to mean?" asked Heath trying not to feel like a steer going to slaughter.
"You being a bastard and all. I just didn't think they would let you stay."
"Now, Martha is that any way to speak to our nephew?" Heath turned his head to see Matt standing on the stairs behind the hotel desk. Martha moved to lean on the desk as Matt descended the rest of the way to stand behind the desk.
"What do you want?" asked Heath
"You came to us boy, so what is it that you want?" asked Matt as he leaned on the desk.
"All I want is for you to leave me alone," replied Heath as he started for the door realizing that it was a mistake to come here. The closeness of the memories Heath thought he had finally conquered were swimming in his mind filling his senses and making him dizzy.
"I can't leave ya alone boy. There is a little matter of you owing us some money." Heath stopped with his hand on the door. He sighed and turned figuring to get this over with once and for all, like he planned.
"What money?"
"It costs money to take care of a growing child. Food, clothing and a place to sleep, your mother couldn't do all that by herself. She had to have help, and it came from us."
"Food - scraps not fit for a dog. Mama saw to it I had clothes and your idea of a place to sleep was a straw filled mattress in the cellar. I slept better at the livery. I don't owe you anything, not then and not now!" Heath had let go of the door and stood in the middle of the room.
"Well boy that's where you're wrong," said Matt with a snug smile that made Heath want to punch it off his face. "Ya see your mother gave up her rights to you, when you were six years old. We had it all done legal like, so there wouldn't be any problems."
Heath was speechless; his mother wouldn't give him to these people, traded like a horse to be used as they seen fit.
"I don't believe you," Heath hissed.
"Then believe this!" said Martha as she tossed an envelope at him. Slowly he opened it and read the contents; he looked at the smiling faces of Matt and Martha.
"You knew that Tom Barkley was my father?" he asked.
Matt laughed, "Yep. I went over there myself to see about getting money to help raise you. Drug you with me so he could see for himself that you were his kid. He took one look at you and had us escorted off that fancy ranch of his. He didn't believe you were his kid." Matt paused then smiled again, "Ask your lawyer brother, he was there that day. You ask him, he'll tell ya. He even remembered me."
"The only reason I suppose you're even with the Barkleys is that Jarrod feels guilty for his father's actions." Martha sighed, a hard glint in her eyes, "It had to be something to see. Tom Barkley denying your right to the Barkley name. I guess they all feel guilty for turning you out all those years ago, that's why they took you in now."
"It was a terrible thing to witness. We took the only route left, to become your guardians," agreed Matt.
"The judge only saw it fitting to give us guardianship, with your mother's loose morals. A woman like that has no business raising a child," chided Martha.
"What loose morals?"
"Oh Heath," laughed Martha, "you're a grown man; you know what goes on in a saloon. And she let you work in those mines, knowing the dangers."
"My mother wasn't like that," said Heath through clenched teeth.
"What do you remember? Her coming home every night too tired to cook you a meal, staying up half the night sewing for the fine ladies of our fair community?"
"What do you want?" asked Heath, trying hard to hold his temper.
"We want reimbursement for your care, and what we spent on you," replied Martha.
"You owe us your earnings from the Pony Express and when you were in the army. Which, we figured to be around $5,000.00 dollars," stated Matt as he came around the desk to stand next to Martha.
"Oh and I am sure we can find ways for you to pay that off," whispered Martha as she walked around Heath running her hand over his chest and back. Her very touch sent a chill up and down his spine.
Heath stepped out of her reach, "I think you got enough sweat and blood outta me to have been paid off in full a long time ago." He started to leave.
"We were good to you, you ungrateful bastard!" yelled Martha. Heath whipped around to face the Simmons.
"Good to me? You had me working day and night with little food. If I so much as thought of taking off, or if you believed I had done wrong, you had me tied in that basement and whipped like a dog. There were days I wished I would have died, just so you couldn't torment me. And why? My only crime was that I didn't know who my father was. Now I find out you always did."
He turned and walked out of the hotel, quickly mounting his horse and headed back to the express station.