A cold front had blown in overnight and the crisp, cool weather had Nick feeling pretty good-considering the day that lay ahead was fraught with unseen obstacles. He felt like a lion and was ready to pounce on them all. He relished the thought of finding that Eli Wilson and schooling him on the subject of Barkley vengeance. The rhythmic cadence of the horse's hooves put him in a martial type mood. He felt a smile come on and started to whistle "When Johnny Comes Marching Home."

He only got a few notes out when he noticed Jarrod's sidelong glance.

"I guess it's the change in the weather." He shrugged and took in a deep breath of cool fall air.

Jarrod didn't seem to share Nick's upbeat attitude. He watched the road as they neared town. "Your talk with Heath this morning seems to have taken a load off your shoulders."

"Well, brother, I tell you it has."

"I wish I'd had an opportunity to talk to him. Those other men he told you about, the ones who were with Eli…it would help me put the pieces together if I knew a little more about them." Jarrod frowned. "What I remember of Eli before I met him in court last year is vague, but he didn't seem to have any particular friends at that time. Was Heath able to describe those men at all?"

Now Nick's mood shifted. "No. He couldn't remember. Couldn't even tell me how many there were. We could be looking for two, three, maybe four men. Not good odds for just the two of us."

"We have that marshal—Ray Collins. If what Bill Lender's says about him is true, he'll help us. Of course we'll have to sweeten the deal a bit."

Nick didn't much like putting money into Collin's pocket and wasn't so keen on trusting him in the first place. "Don't be so sure of that, Jarrod. You haven't met him."

"And you have?" Jarrod asked.

Nick hedged a bit on the answer. "Let's just say, once he lays eyes on me, he may not be so obliging to help us out."

Jarrod gazed at his brother in confusion but then his eyes widened in understanding. He turned back to the road with the outer buildings of Stockton coming into view. "Well, Nick, from what I've heard about Marshal Collins, if you held your own against him in that fight-"

"What do you mean, 'if'?"

Jarrod smiled at Nick's angry glare. "All I'm saying is if you held your own against him you likely earned his respect. He's a ranger, Nick. In his world, that carries a lot of weight."

"Damned right I did," Nick replied. He sulked. He didn't want to mention that Collins had earned some of his respect, too. Not all of it, Nick reminded himself, just some.

When they arrived in Stockton, Jarrod wanted to stop at the gunsmith to pick up a six shooter he'd left for repair. It was a reliable weapon and he wouldn't think of going on this excursion without it. He dismounted and tied off his horse. "I'll be right back," he told Nick, but when he stepped up to the walkway, he nearly ran into Sheriff Madden.

"Morning, Sheriff," Jarrod said, fully expecting a traditional response in return.

Madden ignored him and walked right on past. His eyes were pinned on Nick. "You just stay up in that saddle now, Nick," he ordered. "I told you to stay out of town and I meant it. We don't need any more of your trouble around here."

Nick narrowed his eyes at the sheriff. He deeply resented the attitude. Used to, he could ride into town unnoticed; now it seemed Sheriff Madden had put him at the top of his most wanted list. "What laws have I broken, Sheriff?" Nick leaned forward and casually crossed his arms over his saddle horn. "Is it a crime for a Barkley to ride through Stockton nowadays?"

"I heard about your fight. I can see the evidence of it on your face clear as day." Madden propped his fists on his hips. "I told you in no uncertain terms to leave town until things cooled off. Since you didn't follow the law last time, I'm of a mind to haul you in."

Jarrod stepped between them. "Now just a minute, Sheriff. Do you plan to arrest my brother? If so, what's the charge?"

"Destruction of property, for one. Manager at Barbary Red's came to me about pressing charges for busting up his place yesterday."

"Did he follow through on those charges?"

"No." Madden still glared at Nick. He spit a wad of tobacco into the street. "I took an oath to look out for the safety of this town. Your brother is a threat to the peaceful exchange of commerce in the community."

Nick jerked upright. "What? !"

Jarrod raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "Now, Sheriff, don't you think that's a little far-fetched?" He turned to Nick. "Take the horses to the livery, Nick. I'll talk to the Sheriff." Jarrod saw the hardened look on Nick's face. The last thing he needed was for Nick to prove Madden right. "Now," he insisted and handed the reigns over to his brother. He waited for Nick's reluctant nudge to Coco's flanks and turned back to face Sheriff Madden.

Jarrod companionably clapped Madden on the shoulder and turned him to walk in the opposite direction. All those years in courtrooms had groomed him for this moment. "Now, about my brother…"

Nick rode off slowly, willing his body to follow Jarrod's order when all of his instincts had him wanting to lay into that no-good public official who the town of Stockton called "Sheriff." Tension knotted his muscles. Nick shook his head vigorously and blew out a breath. He rolled his shoulders. "This town has gone completely loco."

He rode up to the livery, and dismounting, he tied off Jarrod's horse first. When he got back to Coco, he patted the horse on his glossy neck. "A threat to commerce," he muttered. "What do you think of that, huh?"

The horse snorted.

"Yep." Nick nodded. "That's just what I thought."

He moved to tie off Coco's reigns.

There came an unmistakable tick of metal against metal next to his right ear. Nick froze. Through the corner of his eye he saw a brash glint of sunlight on the end of a pistol barrel—aimed directly at his skull. Options flashed through his mind. His gun in his hip holster. His rifle in the saddle holster. His knife in his vest pocket. None of which was accessible with a bullet at his ear poised to blow his brains out. He slowly raised his hands.

"Move," a brusque voice ordered.

The thug behind him grabbed a fistful of Nick's vest and jerked. Nick obeyed by stepping backward with the command. As the stranger forced him into the darkness between the livery and blacksmith's, he thought about Jarrod and how far away his older brother might be from this alleyway.

"Now, Sheriff," Jarrod was saying to Madden since that they had stopped to talk in front of the General Store. "Nick has a right-as do I-to see that the law is upheld. Yes, it's a delicate issue, and I'm sure you understand that this case is intensely personal to the Barkley family."

"Jarrod, it's personal to a lot of people in this town. It's even personal to me. I know Heath and have come to like and respect him as much as anyone in your family. That's why it's doubly important that I regard this trial with the utmost care. I can't have anything upsetting the due course of Willie Clay's legal rights. Nick has a look about him-and I completely understand it, mind you—that tells me he's out for revenge."

Jarrod couldn't argue that. Any sensible man would get that idea from Nick lately. The black eye hadn't helped his case at all. "We're in town for business, Sheriff. I will make sure that Nick respects the law and does nothing to impede the progress of this case. Of course, I will be handling the affairs of the family regarding this trial, and intend to perform my own investigation."

The implication Jarrod hoped to convey was that Nick would be aiding him in said investigation. Jarrod eyed the sheriff for any signs of disagreement.

"You just make sure he follows the law," Madden warned. "To the letter."

Jarrod nodded once. "Naturally."

Madden humphed, tugged the brim of his hat down a notch, and stormed off.

Sympathy for Madden had Jarrod wishing he hadn't crossed the sheriff's path this early in the morning, but he got the law off Nick's back for the time being. Jarrod glanced down the street and wondered where his brother had gone off to. Nick should have caught up with him by now.

When he looked down the street, a strange sight caught his attention. Carriages and pedestrians were steering clear of a riderless horse that wandered the street. Coco. Nick's horse was loose and the reins dragged the ground. Jarrod frowned. Never in a million years would Nick tie a knot that didn't stay put. An ominous feeling came over him. Jarrod quickly headed to his own mount tied at the livery.

Nick's assailant shoved him against the brick wall of the smith's. "Turn around," he ordered. He must have seen a thought flash in Nick's eyes. "You so much as flinch and I'll pump you full of holes so fast you'll be dead before you hit the ground."

Keeping his hands up, Nick turned—then he snarled. "I should have known."

It was Frank, and his mustache twitched in agitation. The beady eyes, both of which had varying shades of purple bruises beneath them, glared holes into Nick. The pistol lowered a bit, but Frank's deadly aim didn't waver. The gun was now leveled at Nick's chest. It was still a kill shot if he pulled the trigger. "You shouldn't a come back here, Barkley. You're messing things up for me, and I don't take kindly to that."

There came another click. This time, it was Jarrod's rifle that pressed into Frank's back.

"Drop your weapon," Jarrod ordered. "Or so help me, you'll find a bullet in your back."

Hands still raised, Nick casually lifted one eyebrow and cocked a smile at Frank. "I'd do as the man says. He's well-known for following-through."

Frank reluctantly tossed the pistol to the ground. When he turned his head to see who bested him, Nick fisted his hands, and taking advantage of the three-quarter view, he planted a solid right hook into Frank's jaw. The man dropped like a cord of wood.

"You still owe me a drink," Nick growled through his teeth. "Who are you really? Frank or Ray Collins or—"

Frank rolled onto his backside, rubbing his injured jaw. "You just assaulted a federal marshal—again. I was willin' to let the first one by."

"If you're a federal marshal, where's your badge?" Jarrod asked, still holding the rifle on the man at his feet.

"I don't carry my badge, friend," said Frank. "Guess you'll have to either shoot me, or take my word for it."

Jarrod lowered his rifle only slightly. "I'll do neither. As long as you understand your position, we can talk."

"I prefer talkin' man to man," Frank said, lifting a hand to indicate his distaste for lying in the dirt. "You gonna let me get up, or—"

"I don't know," Nick said. "The ground looks like a fine place for a snake to be."

"Snakes strike best from the ground."

"We'll just see about that."

Nick took a step toward Frank who tensed and grabbed a fistful of dirt.

Jarrod preferring not to fire his rifle and draw the attention of townsfolk, or the law, threw out a hand to stop his brother. "Back off Nick," he warned.

Nick glared. "Why? He's nothing but a—"

"U.S. Marshal. Let's hear what he has to say."

"Of all the—" Nick said. "Jarrod, you're stepping on shaky ground here."

Frank got himself up out of the dirt and dusted his pants. "You're interfering in a federal investigation," he said to Jarrod. "I was tryin' to tell that to your brother here before you came along."

"At gunpoint?" Jarrod said. "Is that what you consider to be a 'man to man' talk?"

"I've been workin' this case for over a month and him come bellowing at the top of his lungs about Eli Wilson down at Red's just about killed everything I've worked for." He glared at Nick. "Those boys aint comin' back to that place and after all the time I spent working my way in and gaining their confidence. If I lose them, I swear to God, I'll come after you. I don't care if you're a Barkley or a Smith or a Jones."

Jarrod glanced at Nick. Nick shrugged and rubbed his sore knuckles.

"You're talking about Wilson's gang?" Nick asked.

Frank's eyes shifted from one Barkley to the other. "I'll get answers from you first." He bent down and picked up the gun he'd tossed, and seeing that Jarrod didn't move to stop him, he slipped it quickly into its holster. "How do you know who I am?"

"So you are Ray Collins, then." Nick said.

Jarrod spoke up. "We have a mutual friend who spoke quite highly of you. He said you might be needing some monetary backing. My brother and I might be able to help in that area."

"I've heard about you Barkleys. Money aint gonna buy you outta this as easily as you might think. I know what Eli and his gang have purportedly done to your family, but you don't know what you're gettin' into with them. This situation we got here is kinda like one of them icebergs. You know—it's bigger than it appears." Ray Collins rubbed his jaw and glanced around. "This alley aint the place to hash out any kind of business deal anyway. I got a cabin down on Sugar Creek. Aint much, but it's out of the way. If you're serious about what you say, meet me there around noon. We'll hash it out then."

He glared once more at Nick and stalked out of the alleyway.

"I know that cabin he's talking about," Jarrod said. "It's an old hunting cabin. Roof's falling in. Hasn't been used in years."

"I know the place." The brothers were silent for a moment before Nick spoke up again. "We ride out to Sugar Creek, we could be riding straight into an ambush. I don't like this one bit."

Jarrod agreed. "Neither do I, Nick. But as I see it, we don't have much choice."

"Oh, but we do have a choice," Nick said. "We could get some of the men together from the ranch. I've heard them talking about wanting to go after the people who shot Heath. It'd be easy enough to get them to come along."

"And have their families suffer the way ours has if one of them gets killed?" Jarrod shook his head. "I won't be a part of that. No, as far as I see it. Hiring a man like Collins, a professional with no ties to the Barkley ranch is the best course." He saw Nick's trepidation and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "At least, we can hear what he has to say, and we can find out more about this gang Eli's running with. Regardless, it seems that Ray Collins has something valuable to offer us, whether we hire him or not."

"I hope you're right," Nick said.