Western Nevada, July, 1874

An owl hooted. A gentle summer night breeze rustled in the trees above. The campfire crackled, and Nick drank coffee, sitting beside his sleeping brother. It would have been a tranquil, pleasant scene, were it not for the covered dead bodies of several rogue lawmen lying not far from the campfire. A peaceful scene, if not for the malignant, observant presence of Risely handcuffed to a tree, or the fact that his sleeping brother was exhausted, starved, and brutalized. Just a lovely night out under the stars, Nick thought to himself. A lovely night to sit and think and not get up and walk over there and kill the man who tortured my brother. He sighed, checking yet again under Heath's shirt to make sure he wasn't bleeding through the bandages, and felt his forehead for fever.

"I imagine life was a lot more orderly before this boy intruded on your family. Not so much...excitement, perhaps." Risely spoke for the first time.

"Be quiet. You got nothing to say to me about my brother."

"I'm not talking about him, really. It's just that I've had a chance to learn a little bit about your family. Quite a remarkable history, truly, one in which you should have a shining place. Not the firstborn, but the son of your father's heart, embodying his love of the land, his leadership of men, his boldness and innovation and hard-working spirit. It must have been both glorious and frightening for you to step into his giant's shoes at such a young age when he was gunned down."

"I said be quiet."

"Your mother must have been so proud of you to see you take on your father's mantle with such courage. Did you feel, as you met the challenges, that you had really taken on some of his presence, his authority? That you could speak with his voice, be respected as he was respected? That must have felt glorious, tragically glorious, as though you had embarked on a divine, blessed mission, a quest for greatness."

Risely spoke in tones of genuine admiration and pleasure in the successes of a young hero. Nick did not answer.

"What a challenge it must have been when his bastard son arrived with no warning."

Nick growled.

"Am I wrong? Was it not a challenge? How could it not be? You may be fond of this boy you've taken in, and I commend your generosity. But it is naïve to think that you would have no feelings about the tainting of your father's memory, his honor - and by extension, the stain upon the mantle you wore so proudly. Think of what your father, your real family, has given you since you were born - love, sustenance, support, opportunity. But this boy - this drifter - brought you trouble, no? A stain on your good name, without which you are nothing. He is a bucket of rusty bolts poured into the smoothly running gears of your heritage. He certainly is damaged goods, if I interpret the scars upon his back correctly."

"I promised Heath I wouldn't hurt you. That is the only reason you are still breathing right now."

Risely continued, thoughtfully, as though Nick hadn't spoken. "I imagine his presence has caused havoc among your men at the ranch. Anxiety over the chain of command, anger from men displaced from their spot on the ladder by the bastard's arrival? You've wondered yourself if he might not be more the embodiment of your father than you, that perhaps he is the rightful heir. You've wondered if that is why your mother came to love him so, and so quickly. Am I wrong?"

"No. You're not wrong. But you will have several teeth missing, courtesy of my fist, if you don't shut up." Nick stood up, glowering down at Risely. Yes, everything Risely said was true, and it was maddening to hear. It was all absolutely true, and yet absolutely not the truth that mattered. Nick could sense the wrongness, but could not put it into words. And so he interpreted his feeling of wrongness as guilt, a sign that he was disloyal or weak. He just wanted Risely to shut up.

Risely obliged with a shrug, and went back to his silent watching. Nick squatted down again and stirred the fire, checking his pocket watch. Just past 3 AM. Three hours till dawn. He brooded, reviewing the route Jarrod would have taken and calculating when he might arrive with the marshals.

"Nick..."

Nick turned, hearing Heath's voice, and could see immediately he was talking in his sleep. Usually that meant nightmares. Nick leaned over, saying softly, "It's OK, Heath, you're sleeping, you're safe, I'm right here by you."

"Nick, don't leave me, please...Nick! Where are you..." Nick could hear so much pain in those few words, it took his breath away. He put his hands on Heath's shoulders, trying to find a way to hold him without hurting him.

Heath started to pull away, fighting to get loose. He was crying out in pain from the effort, yet the pain seemed to make him struggle even harder. Fear was rolling off him in waves. "Don't hurt him - please, please stop, please don't hurt him -get off me, let me go let me go!"

"HEATH!" Nick, at a loss, finally used his loudest big brother voice in an effort to get through. He wanted to extract his brother from whatever God-awful nightmare he was in, and he was also worried that Heath would seriously injure himself fighting to get away.

Heath's eyes opened with a gasp, staring at the picture of some horror in his mind. His gaze found Nick, and held there for a long moment as a look of relief passed over his face. "Nick, you're OK, you're OK, thank God," he said softly, as though speaking to himself. He started to relax. This was followed by a grimace of pain and a long groan as he felt the effects of the wrestling match on his various injuries. "Uhhhh, no, that wasn't good," he berated himself. "That was stupid."

"Heath, you were dreaming. It was a nightmare."

"Yeah, that's a specialty of mine, all right. Glad that wasn't real. These aches and pains sure are, though. Ow." Nick helped him get sorted out into a more comfortable position.

"You want some pain medicine? We brought some in our kit."

"No. I'll be alright. And I don't want anything making me foggy. Tired enough as it is. What time is it? About 330?"

Nick never ceased to be amazed at the internal clock that Heath seemed to have in his head. "Yep. You want some broth, some food? You got some catching up to do."

"Why don't you sleep a little, Nick? I think I can watch. I'll drink some coffee."

"Uh uh. No way. I ain't sleeping. Not with that demon watching over there. You can sit up with me though, if you want."