Keeper of His Heart
The bullet creased Nick's head unseating him from Coco in a fleeting second. With a crash to his side, he hit the ground, trying to roll away from whatever had hit him. Despite his injury he stood to run. Instead he found himself surrounded by two riders wearing neckerchiefs over their faces. One lifted the butt of his weapon, bringing it down on the dark colored Barkley head with a sickening crack. With a silent cry, Nick sank to his knees, then fell face forward barely conscious of a sack that was pulled over his bleeding head. Hands pulled taut behind him and tied viciously, he was pulled to his feet and thrown back up on a horse that he was fairly certain wasn't Coco. Where was his friend, he managed to think.
"Mister, so help me if you move or breathe wrong I'm going to shoot ya," a voice threatened with the pistol touching Nick's temple. Helpless, the big man resisted the urge to kick out at the man, especially since he had no clue as to where he was. Nick could barely sit the horse he was put on, his head hurt so badly. He swayed in the saddle then fell off.
"Damn," the man said again. "Just throw him on. We gotta get outta here. Got his horse?"
"Yep."
"Good. He's not supposed ta be home for three days yet. By then he'll be dead. We'll be long gone before they figure out he's even missing."
"I still think we should get some money for him. We went to all this trouble."
"You're an idiot. Aint no money worth going ta prison, and he's a Barkley. They'd catch us sure before we even got the stash. This way, he'll be dead and won't anyone be the wiser till we're gone." Nick, lying on the ground knew he was in grave danger. The men didn't know the half of it. His father and Jarrod were in San Francisco, and his mother and Audra were in Denver. There wasn't anyone at home that was going to miss him for more than three days. In a flash he found his legs and was up and running only to trip over a piece of wood he couldn't see. The men were on him instantly, kicking him and cursing at him. Nick pulled his feet close to try and ward off the attack but he was beaten until he couldn't move anymore. From a distance he felt his body being lifted and thrown across the horse. A rope was tied to his feet and then passed under the horse to tie his hands, effectively holding him on to the animal. Nick knew he was as good as dead and there was no way out. As he lost consciousness he spoke through the stale air from the sack that covered his face and head.
"Heath…Heath…I'm coming Boy. Hold on. I'm coming."
Nick woke when his body hit a wooden floor. He was grabbed by the arms, dragged across the floor, his feet loose, and kicking out at a doorway they went through. He swore through the sack at his captors, suddenly knowing he couldn't give in, not even to join Heath.
"This place is too good ta be true," Deke was saying as they threw Nick's body against the wall, ignoring the man's oaths. "Imagine using the man's own house ta kill him in. Come on, let's get on with it."
"Aint his house is it? Belongs ta his pappy."
"Belongs ta the family, Davie. Remember how the kid told his friends about it, about the fishing and sleeping on the floor in the great room with his brothers?"
"Yeah I remember. Kid's dead though. Aint going ta be able ta help his big brother any more than he could be saved."
"Aint that the truth, Davie. These Barkley's are so damn proud and yet they break just like everyone else." Nick was trying to muddle through the aches and pains in his body, much less figure out who they were talking about. Couldn't be Gene. Gene was only nine years old. And Heath, well Heath…Nick's shirt was ripped off. The two men were big, as big as he was. They had no trouble lifting him off the floor and hanging him from some cuffs that kept his toes on the floor but didn't allow him to find any comfortable position.
"What the hell?" the dark haired rancher hollered. What remained of his shirt was taken off. Next the filthy potato sack was taken off his head. Squinting his eyes to see in the flickering lamplight, Nick was surprised indeed to find himself hanging from cuffs and chains that hung from nails in the wood of the lean to at the lodge. The only other thing in the lean to was wood for the fireplace and some shovels and an ax in the wood pile, not that Nick had a prayer when it came to getting at the ax to defend himself. He couldn't turn his head to see what was happening until he realized the men were gone. They'd shut the door, using the family home at their leisure.
"What the hell is going on?" Nick asked himself again. That the men must have known Heath was the only fact he could assimilate, that and the one that they hated him enough to torture and then kill him. It made no sense. Heath was dead. What kind of revenge did they have in mind? Revenge against a ghost? Nick closed his eyes forcing himself not to cry for his little brother. Heath! Memories of his blond haired brother, the kid with the lopsided grin and his best friend almost from the moment they met were warm memories beneath the big man's heart. Heath!
"Boy, if yer hanging around, I sure could use yer help," Nick mumbled. His ribs were screaming at him. Must have busted a few. He could barely think for the pain in his head and he didn't need a blindfold to keep him blind. His eyes were swimming between the gray and the dark as he tried to focus. No matter what he did he was in pain. Moving his arms, he realized there was no relief to be had. Letting his head fall forward, he saw a few drops of blood hit the ground. Still bleeding from the head was not a good sign. Frankly Nick was too tired to care, although deep in his soul he knew his parents could not take losing another son. Their family meant too much to each other and Heath's loss was too raw. The lamp had been taken away and it was getting dark fast. Nick concentrated on Heath, thinking of the day the telegram came. Coming home from the war, wanting only to get home, he and Jarrod met in Denver by chance and took the train home, arriving together to their parents delight. Their own joy had dissipated quickly when the two men learned for the first time that Heath had run off to enlist in the spring of 1864, despite his father's objection. Now, in June 1865, the boy hadn't written since the fall and the army had listed him as missing in action.
"That damn fool kid," Nick stormed. "He's only fifteen."
"Look who's talking," Jarrod reminded him. "Who insisted on joining when they were seventeen?"
"That was different. He's just a kid. What made him go?"
"Nick, he wouldn't stay put," Tom told his second son. "Insisted that if you and Jarrod were going to do your duty, he should do his. I practically threatened ta lock him in his room, but he went off anyway."
"Father…I didn't mean any disrespect," Nick answered. "If anyone knows how stubborn that boy is, it's me."
"Spose that's true, Nick. You and Heath have had yer share of fights."
"But I didn't want him to go to war," Nick protested. "Father…a man has ta be a man ta fight a war like that. It was hell." Tom's arms was easily slung over his son's shoulder while the rest of the family watched.
"Heath'll come through, Nick. He's strong and he won't give in easy. He's a true Barkley."
"Father, the war's over," Jarrod observed logically. "You haven't heard anything?"
"Nothing," Tom answered. And that's the way it had been for two more long months until their foreman, Duke McCall came back from town one day with a telegram from the government. It was closed. Duke swore he didn't know what was in it at the time, but later confided to Nick that just the look on the telegrapher's face had been enough for him to know the truth. The family gathered, the children home from school for the summer, Nick and Jarrod standing in the foyer, Audra and Gene holding hands and Victoria leaning against her strong husband. Tom Barkley read the missive through once. Instantly tears came to his eyes. Still he read it out loud knowing the news had to come from him.
"Mr. Thomas Barkley. Stop," The telegram read. "Regret to inform you Corporal Heath Barkley died Carterson Prison, April 1865. Stop. Buried with comrades. Stop." Audra flew at her father, screaming her grief. Tom gathered his wife and daughter to him while the boys stood in stupefied wonder.
"No!" Gene cried first. "No! I don't believe it. Heath promised! He promised he'd come home. He promised." Gene bolted. Nick ran after him. Nick had to give the kid credit. At nine years old he was as fast as Heath had been at his age and he got all the way to the river before Nick caught up with him. Grabbing the kid by the arm, he pulled him down to the ground, Gene hitting him everywhere and anywhere. His swats were painless against Nick's brawny chest and well muscled arms. One hit caught him in the mouth, drawing blood which seemed to finally reach the grieving child.
"Hey now," Nick hollered. "Come on, Gene. Cut it out." Gene collapsed sobbing on the ground. Nick let him cry while using a handkerchief from his pocket to dab away at the blood on his lip. Heath's face seemed to be everywhere in his mind. He couldn't be dead, not Heath, not his blond brother. Heath came to live with them when he was seven, after their father and Nick found him in Strawberry. Nick had taken to the kid immediately, even helped him go into the mines the day after they met. Trouble was the boys got caught in a cave in and it took a long time for their father to rescue them with the townsfolk's help. Heath had had a difficult path after that, but eventually his life smoothed out at the ranch. He really was Nick's best friend, his little buddy as he called him. Now putting his hand on Gene's shoulder, he wished Heath was sitting there with them.
"Gene, we have to go back to the house," Nick told the boy.
"What for?" Gene demanded. "What does it all mean, Nick iffn God kin just take Heath away like that. You and Jarrod coulda died too. I don't understand."
"I know, Gene. In war, there is no practical answer. Men die and that's all there is to it."
"But Heath died in a prison. Father and I been reading the newspapers. I thought prisoners were supposed to be treated decent like." Decent like, decent like…Nick was drawn back to the present. Prisoners were supposed to be treated decent, but Heath had died in a prison. Nick had heard stories of some of the prisons where prisoners of war were kept. Carterson's reputation was as bad as the rest. Imagining what had happened to Heath was like a knife constantly berating Nick. The last month of putting Heath's life to rest and getting back to work on the ranch had kept Nick busy, but it didn't keep him from sharing the family's grief or feeling so alone it felt as if he were fighting the war again, this time all by himself.
"Stop it!" he screamed. "Stop it! Heath!" His arms were coming out of their sockets. Nick knew they were. He couldn't stop them. The arms would come out and he'd be like those men in the hospital. He wouldn't have any arms. His feet had given up on him long ago. "Heath! Heath, help me! Jarrod! Father!" Only no one came. The sweat on Nick's forehead fell down his cheeks. His head sank foreward as the pain overwhelmed him and he thankfully let the darkness take him away at least for now. He didn't know his screams echoed in the air and the men sitting in the lodge were simply waiting to finish what they started. Their voices broke into the night just as the rear door to the lean to opened and a stranger stepped inside…
hr
Blue eyes bright, the boy stared at the man hanging from chains on the wall. The chains were hung on nails, and might be easy to take off the nails, but then the man would come down. Nick sure didn't look like he could stand on his own two feet. He fought the sickening disgust he felt at what the two men had done, and was relieved he had heard the man before more damage could be done. Kneeling on the ground beneath the man, he looked up at the unconscious face looking down on him.
"Aw, Nick. What'd ya have ta come up here for?" he asked in his quiet way. There wasn't much of a choice on how to handle the two men inside. He didn't know who they were and frankly he didn't care. To do what they'd done to Nick, they were rabid animals, just like the ones he was running from. He had no hesitation in doing what had to be done to anyone who would hurt his brother. Opening the door to the lodge, he entered the kitchen. The two men stood. They seemed stunned to see the boy standing in front of them, apparently unarmed.
"Deke?" Davy asked. "Am I seeing ghosts?"
"Yeah, ghosts. Where'd ya come from?"
"Ya know where I came from," the boy answered. "Right where I'm sending ya, straight to hell." Deke stepped forward, his face bringing back horrible memories to the boy.
"Ya won't hurt me. Yer a good kid. Ya try and save people even when yer living in hell."
"Tell me one thing and I might not kill ya," the boy told him.
"Don't have to tell ya nothing. Yer a dead man, just like your brother." From the back of his waist, the boy's hand moved, throwing the knife expertly, hitting Deke in the heart. With incredulous eyes Deke, a tall man with a pock scarred face who had made the boy miserable for nine months, took his last breath and hit the ground dead. Davie, more of a coward than his brother fell to his knees.
"Don't…don't kill me," he pleaded. He was easily five inches taller than the boy and yet he was afraid of him. The boy took the knife from Deke and wiped the blood off on Deke's shirt. Approaching Davie, he wasn't surprised to see the man jump up and run for the door. Knowing he couldn't let him go he threw the knife again. It landed in Davie's back. Davie gripped the door. The boy thought he didn't care about killing any more…but his stomach was churning at the horror and he knew he still hated it. He let Davie fall with a moan, but the boy didn't wait to watch him die. Instead he hurried back to the lean to.
"Nick? Nick, can ya hear me?" he asked. But his big brother was still unconscious. Hurrying back into the house he saw that Davie was dead. He went through Deke's pockets and Davie's until he found the key's to the cuffs. He had to get the bodies out of the house. His mother would hate to see dead bodies in her house. He'd seen so many dead bodies. Nick…Nick. He had to get to Nick. Back in the lean to, the boy unlocked the cuffs. Nick's body hit the ground. He knew he couldn't have caught him, but he hoped he wasn't hurt more. Nick's moan told him he might be coming around. The boy got a pillow and blanket from one of the bedrooms and made Nick as comfortable as he could on the floor of the lean to. Then he went back into the lodge and used another blanket to take each body out of the house. He left the bodies on the side of the house. He wasn't going to bury them on Barkley land. That would be sacrilege. Maybe he'd throw em in the river. That was a good place for em, he decided. Hopefully they were rotting in the fires of the Hades that Jarrod used to read to him about from his mythology classes. He'd never know now why they went after Nick. He hurried to clean up the blood on the floor and get the place cleaned. Then he went back to Nick with some water and waited. He didn't want to move Nick until he was sure he wasn't terribly hurt. The boy could only hope and pray that he wasn't too late to save Nick…that he wasn't too late to save his brother…to save the man who had been his best friend since they were first met. Please, God, Heath prayed, please don't let me be too late.
II
"Nick! Come on now, wake up," Heath urged the dark haired rancher. "Ya caint lay on the cold floor all night. I need yer help ta get ya ta bed." Nick opened his eyes to see his blond haired brother sitting cross legged beside him. For a minute he forgot Heath was supposed to be dead. Darn kid wouldn't let him sleep. He closed his eyes with a groan. He felt as if he'd been busted by the worst bronc on the ranch.
"Nick, come on," Heath pleaded.
"Let me sleep," Nick pleaded.
"No way, Big Brother. Ya could have a concussion and ya need something ta drink and eat. Come on, Nick." Nick's hazel eyes popped open. Staring up at Heath Nick blinked several times feeling his heart pound in disbelief.
"Heath?"
"Yeah. Well at least ya know my name. That's a start." Nick pulled himself up into a sitting position with Heath's help. Swaying the big man felt the world spin around him.
"Whoa, Big Brother. Ya got a nasty crease on yer head and a bump too. Where else are ya hurt? Nick?" Nick Barkley wondered if he had died and gone to heaven. But if he had, how come he was still in the lean to? How come Heath had blood on his shirt?
"You're bleeding," he told his little brother on automatic.
"Nah, it's not my blood. Davie or Deke I spect. Sorry. I should a changed my shirt, but I didn't want ta leave ya alone."
"Heath…" Nick couldn't believe he was saying his brother's name. He'd never questioned the army. He should have known. He should have thought that Heath wouldn't give in just like his father said. Please God, don't let this be a joke. Don't let this be a dream.
"Nick, ya gonna sit here all night or can ya git up and we can go in the living room? Iffn ya don't feel up ta it, I can get some hot water and clean ya up here."
"Living room," Nick managed, finding it difficult to keep from throwing up suddenly and feeling very sick. Moving to the side, he vomited. Some dark red blood came up. Heath handed him a tin cup of water, and a towel to wipe his face.
"Feel better?" he asked.
"Not much. Heath…"
"Ya keep saying my name like I'm a ghost. Davie and Deke said something like that. Aint no ghost, Nick. What's wrong with you? Did they do something ta ya besides what I saw?"
"Heath…" Nick couldn't go on not at that point. He patted Heath's face and was treated to Heath's lopsided grin. The boy helped him stand. Together they managed to get into the living room.
"Damn, Nick, what they been feeding ya. Yer bigger n a horse." Nick might have come back with a response if he hadn't felt so awful. His arms, his legs, his ribs and his head were all screaming at him. Heath helped him lay down on the sofa. The boy worked quickly, making sure Nick was comfortable. He pulled a blanket over the bigger man. Nick realized he already had a bandage over his head. Heath musta done that he thought.
"Okay, ya don't have ta say anything. I'm going to check the cellar and see if Mother left some of her canned fruit and some potatoes. I can make some soup from the potatoes. Mother showed me how. She's always got spices and stuff in the cupboards. Tomorrow I'll take one of the guns from Father's room and get us some game."
"Home," Nick muttered. "Gotta get home."
"Yer not going anywhere, Big Brother. Those two devils did a good job on ya."
"Where… Heath, where ya been? How, how did ya get here?"
"Long story, Big Brother." Nick closed his eyes. He couldn't be having this conversation. He couldn't. Heath…Heath was gone. But no, he was here. His little brother was here. Nick could hear him walking around. Heath. Oh, God, he couldn't believe it. Nick couldn't think. He couldn't think. Before he knew it, Heath was helping him sit up again. Only this time the world felt a little less dizzy. On the wood table Heath had built just before Nick went to war, Heath placed a bowl with soup, a glass of water and a dish of his mother's canned peaches.
"Aint much I know," Heath said. "But it looks good ta me, so iffn ya aint hungry I'll eat yours and mine."
"Ya could use some food in ya," Nick finally managed. "Ya look like something the cat dragged in." Without touching the food, Nick pulled his brother down on the sofa. In a second he was slapping Heath on the back hugging him close. Nick wasn't surprised to feel the tears on his cheeks. Heath was real. This wasn't a dream.
"Nick," Heath sighed. Nick felt Heath's body tremble as the boy returned the hug ten fold, both of them holding on to each other as tight as they could. "God, Nick, I missed ya. I missed ya so much. I was wrong. I was so wrong."
"Sh. It's okay, Buddy." Nick assured him.
"I killed em, Nick. I killed Davie and Deke and I didn't care. I killed lots of men and I didn't care." Nick hugged Heath even harder.
"Ya did what ya had to, Little Brother. Sometimes that's what war is. It's not you. You're not a soldier anymore. Okay?" Heath's tears hit Nick's neck. Heath was so tender hearted. Part of losing Heath, knowing he died in prison was knowing his brother would have suffered and Heath wasn't as hardened as most men. It had almost killed Nick.
"Nick…" Heath pulled back. His blue eyes were fierce, intense, yet confused. Nick sat back on the sofa, too tired to really be of much help. Heath must have seen it. "Eat, Big Brother. Then ya can sleep and get better." Nick shook his head.
"Can't, Heath."
"Like hell ya can't," the boy swore. "Think of all those days being out in woods when all ya had was hardtack. How about if I put the soup in a coffee cup. Think ya could drink it?" Heath didn't wait for an answer. Nick shook his head. How the kid could be functioning on such an emotional rollercoaster he didn't know. In a few minutes the boy was back with one of his mother's favorite coffee cups.
"Come on, Big Brother. I don't want Mother getting mad at me cause I let her baby boy get sick." Nick almost laughed.
"Boy…you just wait," Nick threatened with a grin.
"Yeah, yeah. I heard it all before," Heath grinned back. Nick drank the soup. After he was finished, Heath made him eat the fruit as well, but he couldn't finish it all. He was just in too much pain and too exhausted.
"Okay, Big Brother. You win. Let's get ya ta bed."
"No, Heath. Let me rest…here," Nick answered. Heath nodded. He helped Nick lay down and then pulled the blanket over him again. It was fully dark now, a warm summer night. There was no need for the fireplace. Nick closed his eyes. Heath's footsteps moved away from the sofa.
"Heath!" Nick cried.
"Yeah? I'm here, Nick. Aint going nowhere."
"Don't go far, huh, Little Brother?"
"Don't worry. I'll sleep on the floor. Go to sleep, Nick." Nick closed his eyes again. Before he fell asleep he prayed he wasn't dreaming and he prayed he'd live through the night. Then he let himself drift away to dreamland, believing that even if he died, at least Heath lived. His little brother was alive…a miracle that gave Nick peace, a peace that would be with him as long as Heath was.
hr
Through the night, Heath did not sleep. Leaning against the fireplace, he kept his blue eyes on his big brother, on the man who was his other half sometimes. How had Nick come to be at the lodge? How had Davie and Deke found it? None of it made sense to Heath, except that Davie and Deke had made his life miserable at Carterson, not that they necessarily signaled him out. They just enjoyed being plain mean. Heath had only to feel the welts on his back to think of the agony those men inflicted on him. Why? Why had they gone after Nick? It didn't make sense. But then, he thought to himself, when had cruelty and insanity ever made sense?
"Oh, Nick, I'm sorry," he whispered, leaning over the dark haired man as Nick moaned in his sleep. Heath's hand touched Nick's forehead and felt the heat emanating from his brother. Damn, Heath swore to himself. Davie and Deke's handiwork wasn't finished yet. Nick wasn't out of the woods. One thing was certain to the blond. He wasn't going to let his brother die, not by a long shot. In the kitchen he used the pump to get some cold water. The house always held supplies for strangers who might need the place in a blizzard or for the family when they decided to come up on a whim. After getting what he need, he stripped Nick of his pants and covered him with a sheet instead of a blanket. Nick's ribs were bruised as were his wrists, his chest and legs. He'd taken a tremendous beating. No wonder he was sick. Nick!
Through the day, Nick's condition worsened instead of improving. Heath was out of his league as Nick tossed and turned in delirium. Once Nick fell off the sofa. Knowing it was dangerous to his ribs to be jostled about, the boy rolled his brother on a blanket and pulled him close to the fireplace where it would be easier to care for him. Twice he threw up, but at least the blood that came was very dark, not fresh. Heath hoped his brother wasn't bleeding internally, though if the fever took him it wouldn't matter much. Getting Nick to drink water and soup was tough, but Heath kept at him. He was not going to give up.
"Heath! Heath!" Nick screamed. "Damn you, Buddy!" Heath sat up from where he'd fallen asleep on the floor. "Damn you!" Nick kept swearing. Heath didn't know what he'd done. He took the cloth on Nick's forehead and wrung it out in cool fresh water. Nick's head tossed to and fro as he went on. "What'd ya have ta go and die for? Who's going ta help me run the ranch? Who's going ta be my buddy now? Heath! HEATH!" Nick's holler tore Heath up. He weighed at least seventy pounds less than his brother and he was still at least three inches shorter. Shaking the bigger man, he tried to wake him, but it wasn't easy.
"Nick! Nick, I'm here, Nick. Come on, Big Brother," but Nick wasn't listening.
"Can't die," Nick mumbled to himself. "Father and Mother already lost the kid. Can't do that to em. Can't…Heath. I saw you. Where are you, Boy. Get your behind out here before I come in after ya. Don't ya know ta come when I call?" Heath sighed. There was only one thing for it. He had to try something else. Reasoning was not working.
"Aw, don't get in such a frazzle, Nick. The work is done. It's time for the Saturday Night Social in town. Ya know the girls are going ta see ya in your uniform and swoon all over ya."
"Yeah, I'll git ta kiss some of them and then go back to the war. Sounds like fun," Nick chuckled.
"Ya always have fun Big Brother. Hope the girls like me as much as they like you when I'm growed."
"Hell, Boy, yer just about growed. Ya can out rope, out ride and out shoot anyone on the ranch, cept for me and Father a course."
"That day will come," Heath chuckled. Nick's hazel eyes opened, and locked on Heath.
"Heath," he rambled. A silent message went from one brother to the other. Heath could see Nick was losing ground. The big man spoke once more, sending shivers down his brother's back. "Scared, Heath. Don't wanta die." Heath moved in an instant. He leaned against the sofa, then pulled Nick into his arms. He pulled the sheet over his brother to give him some decency. Nick's head rested against his chest. The cold water bowl was near by and Heath could keep his patient cool, but he could hold on to him too.
"Talk…talk ta me, Heath," Nick pleaded. "Hold me…don't…don't let…go."
"Nick?"
"I can't fight it, Heath. Can't."
"Nick, don't…I need ya. I love ya," Heath pleaded. With his last bit of strength, Nick Barkley touched Heath's face.
"Ya always were…my Buddy," he stammered with a last breath and a slight smile. The smile vanished. Heath felt his brother's spirit flee in those seconds. Nick went limp in his arms. His brother was gone…No! Clutching the dead body to him, he screamed his anguish to the skies. No, NO, NO, Not Nick. Not this. Lashing out at anything, Heath screamed again and again.
"No! Nick! Nick, don't die. Don't leave me. Don't let Davie and Deke take ya from me. I was coming Nick. I promise I was coming home. Nick! Nick!" And while the blond prisoner from Carterson sobbed through his worst nightmare, from somewhere far away, he heard his mother's voice and felt her hand squeezing his. She was so close...How could she be so close? How could he tell her about Nick? Her voice echoed in his mind as she kept on asking and he could not answer.
"Heath…Heath…Where is Nick? Heath Barkley, where is your brother?"
Chapter 3
"Heath…Heath…Where is Nick? Heath Barkley, where is your brother?" Victoria's voice pleaded with Heath. When she didn't get an answer she turned to her husband. Tom pulled her into his arms, holding her close. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Jarrod held his brother's hand.
"We'll find him, Torie, I promise." Tom encouraged. Victoria shook her head.
"You can't promise, Tom. We don't know where Nick is. And did you see Heath's back. What did they do to him down there? How could they hurt him like that?" Tom took a deep breath. He thought of Victoria's cry when she saw Heath's back for the first time. The scars were vivid and it was clear he'd been whipped more than once. His son had been in prison and he was only fifteen. Tom tried hard to comfort his wife.
"Heath survived Carterson, Victoria. He survived when others didn't. He's strong. The thing is he couldn't have gotten far wounded the way he is, Torie. Whatever happened ta the boys it couldn't have been far away. Howard will be here soon. Jarrod and I will follow Heath's tracks. Hopefully it won't be too long."
"Find him, Tom!" Victoria's small hand's pounded her husband's chest until he pulled the tiny lady close to comfort her. Jarrod stood, and hugged his parents as well. His hand lingered on Victoria's cheek.
"We have to be grateful, Mother. Heath is home. Nick was right." Victoria managed a smile.
"Nick always had a sixth sense about Heath. Those two are like two peas in a pod. I only wish Heath…Oh God. Surely Nick…" Jarrod couldn't answer his mother's unfinished sentence or question or whatever it would have been. Her gray eyes implored him.
"Nick is out there," Jarrod answered, not sure who he was convincing, his parents or himself. "I wish Heath could tell us what happened to them," Jarrod told his mother. "If he wakes up and tells you anything you can send one of the men after us. Don't worry, Mother. Nick found Heath. Now it's up to us to find Nick and make sure these two drive Father crazy again with their silly antics."
"Jarrod, git," Tom Barkley scolded with a smile. Together the men left the room. Victoria sat down on the bed with her son. Her mind was racing remembering all the nights she sat in this room with Nick and Heath, reading them stories, putting them to bed, nursing them when they were sick, helping them study and just listening to them confide in her. She remembered the days after first Nick left and then Heath, sitting in this empty room, praying for her sons. And when the worst happened, when Heath was reported dead, she spent more hours here, missing her son the same way she missed Tommy. She'd thought the boys might be together finally, friends they way they might have been if only Tommy hadn't died at the age of six a year before Heath came to them. When Nick left for New Mexico to find Heath, he was determined his brother wasn't dead. And he was right. He'd brought Heath home but at what cost? Who had ambushed her sons and where? Heath had ridden onto the ranch only a few hours before, collapsing unconscious at his father's feet, unable to tell them where Nick was. Victoria's sons could not be interchanged in her heart. She needed Heath and Nick. She wanted them both. Please, God, she prayed, please bring our Nick home.
"Mother?" Audra's young voice asked. Victoria turned to her eleven-year old daughter. She was in that awkward stage, all legs and in the middle of a growth spurt. A confirmed tomboy she was dressed in Heath's old clothes, her golden hair gathered in a pony tail at her back. She stepped into the room, having just changed after coming home from school
"Audra? Where's Gene?"
"He's still in the barn with Father and the boys. Mother, is Heath home? Is he alive?"
"Yes, Sweetheart." Audra stepped further into the room. Her blue eyes gazed down at her missing brother. Heath was still in the twin bed, his face haggard and thin, looking very boyish indeed.
"Mother…what is it? What's wrong with him? Where's Nick." Victoria held out her arms, and Audra ran into them.
"Heath's been shot, Sweetheart. And he looks like he hasn't eaten much for a long time. He's very sick."
"And Nick?"
"I don't know, Sweetheart."
"Nick!" Heath cried suddenly waking. "Nick!"
"Heath, wake up, Sweetheart, Heath! It's Mother, Heath. Wake up! Heath? I said!" The blue eyes focused, but only for an instant. It was clear the boy was not responding to his mother.
"Audra, go downstairs and wait for Gene. Don't come up here until I tell you to. Go!" Audra hesitated.
"Please, Sweetheart," Victoria pleaded. The child leaned over and kissed her mother, then hurried away. Victoria turned her attention back to her son. Heath's eyes looked away as he cried again.
"Nick, aw Nick. How could ya die?" Victoria almost blanched white at her son's words.
"Heath, what happened to Nick," the mother cried. "Please, Heath, we have to know. We have to know."
"No!" Heath cried. "No!" A slap across Heath's face came from the gentle mother, trying to reach through the hysteria. Heath's dream came back to him, Nick dying in his arms. Nick! But was that what happened? He tried to focus, tried to think. Nick…what had happened to him? How had his mother gotten to be here? Where were they? Were they at the lodge? Would his father look for Nick at the lodge?
"Heath, please." Heath couldn't answer his mother, no matter how he tried. He could see her face but it was too hard to tell her Nick was gone. He hadn't been able to save his brother. Tossing back and forth in torment, the boy wasn't aware of Dr. Merar arriving to provide him with aide.
"Victoria! My God. It's Heath! I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it," Dr. Merar exclaimed. "How is he?"
"I don't know, Howard. He's more out of it than he should be I think. Please, Howard."
"All right, all right," Dr. Merar answered. "I saw the children downstairs. Maybe you want to go to them. They're pretty upset. Silas was trying to help them…"
"Silas will take care of them. Heath needs me." Howard Merar knew better than to argue with Victoria Barkley. Victoria and Tom had already cared for Heath as much as they could, cleaning his face and hands, getting him into a night gown and packing the wound to his head. Dr. Merar removed the bandage on the head. The bullet had creased Heath's head but good.
"He rode in here?" Dr. Merar marveled.
"Barely. Tom doesn't think he could have gone far with a wound like that."
"Tom's right, Victoria. Truth is you've done exactly what I would have done. Let's clean it out again and I'll make sure there's no dead tissue to infect the wound. Then we'll see." Heath was barely responsive to Dr. Merar until he started cleaning the head wound.
"Ow!" he cried. "Ow, No! Leave me be. Nick! I'm sorry, Nick!"
"Heath, stop it," Victoria cried, but the boy couldn't seem to hear her. He thrashed until Dr. Merar took a sedative from his bag and drew it up, talking to Victoria.
"Victoria, he has to be still. I don't know what damage that bullet caused. He's confused and out of it, and I don't know if its from the bullet wound or a trauma I'm not aware of." He gave the injection in Heath's arm. Victoria's eyebrows raised in amazement.
"Howard! He clearly thinks Nick is dead. Of course he's traumatized."
"What? Where did that come from?" Howard asked.
"He's been begging Nick not to die and then apologizing to him. Whatever happened out there, Heath believes Nick is dead." Victoria buried her face in her hands. Howard pulled her into a hug.
"Tom is right, Victoria. Nick should be close by if he's hurt."
"Heath wouldn't have come home if Nick were still alive," Victoria reasoned. "He wouldn't leave his brother." Dr. Merar didn't comment.
"I want my sons safe," Victoria mumbled. "Why…why is this happening?" She didn't wait for an answer. Pulling away from Howard she turned back to Heath. They finished bandaging the boy's head. He was still restless, but at least he was sleeping to Victoria's relief. She couldn't stand seeing him suffer.
"Oh, Heath," she sighed, sitting down with him on the bed. She brushed away the blond hair from the thin face. "What happened to you? Who hurt you, Son? Heath! Heath! Oh God…where is your brother?"
hr
Nick remembered the bullet hitting him in the back, and throwing him out of the saddle. Heath's voice screamed at him but then his brother fell beside him. They'd both been shot, Nick was certain. While time stood still, Nick remained motionless, unable to move if he wanted to. Footsteps crunched the ground around him. Suddenly a kick caught him in the ribs. Nick bit the inside of his lip, but he didn't react.
"Reckon they's both dead, Deke?" a man asked.
"Yeah they better be. This one aint breathing no more. What about the kid?"
"I got him good in the head. He's finally bought it. Shoulda done it when he was in that iron box."
"He's the last can testify against us," Deke said. "Search em, Davie. Check for money or anything that the kid or his brother might have." They rifled through Heath's pockets, then reached for Nick. Nick wanted to pull his gun from his waist, but they were too quick. In seconds they had taken Nick's wallet and walked away, leaving the two brothers where they had fallen. Nick didn't understand.
"Heath?" he whispered. "Heath…" Nick knew he should have been able to move, but he couldn't even open his eyes to see his brother. He heard a moan next to him. Heath! Heath was alive! Thank God! Heath! It was quiet, very quiet for a long long time. Whenever Nick was awake, he kept thinking about Heath, about the news that Heath died in Carterson. Nick never believed it, never accepted his brother was dead. With his parents' blessing he had gone to New Mexico to Carterson Prison and found Heath at the military hospital there. It had taken work to get his brother released. All the way home, Heath was quiet, barely speaking, almost as if he didn't trust his brother. Considering what the boy had been through, Nick wasn't offended, and tried to be as patient as he could. Nick told him about the family and spoke of going to the lodge which seemed to bring some light to the empty eyes. They had been so close to home, so close until the two men, Davie and Deke shot them, for what? Nick wanted to know why he was bleeding along the roadside. Anger surged through him.
"Heath!" he cried out. "Father!" His screams rang through the air. He couldn't move. He couldn't save himself physically but he could yell and Nick Barkley's voice carried.
"Nick! Nick! We're here, Boy! We're here." Tom Barkley's voice was as loud as Nick's when he wanted it to be. He toned it down as Nick moaned, the hazel eyes forcing them selves open at last to see the man he admired most in all the world.
"Father…Heath? Where?"
"Don't you worry none about your brother, Nick. He's home. We followed the horse's trail. Your brother's a smart one. He left pieces of clothing and other things on the road, Nick, so's we'd find ya."
"Heath," Nick smiled. That was his brother. He'd get help to Nick any way he could.
"Nick," Jarrod's voice said. "We brought a wagon. We're going to take you home. You're going to be just fine." Nick nodded. "Now getting you in the wagon is going to hurt, right? So you hold my hand Brother Nick and we'll get you home safe. Nick? Can you hear me?" Nick felt so far away. Nodding he hoped Jarrod heard. Thank God for his brother and father. If they hadn't come…
"Jarrod…" Nick managed to say. Jarrod's hand took Nick's, squeezing it hard.
"I'm here, Brother Nick. Okay, we're going to get you into the wagon." No…it would hurt but Nick didn't have a choice. He knew he didn't. Gritting his teeth he squeezed Jarrod's hand, his big brother just as the men lifted him.
"Easy," Tom Barkley hollered as Nick screamed. Oh God it hurt so bad, worse than anything he'd ever felt. If he had his hands on those no goods right now, he'd happily strangle them, Nick thought distracting himself. Jarrod's hand never left his. Jarrod wouldn't leave him any more than anyone in the family would leave another. They were close the Barkley's were. Nick felt his body being placed on a mattress. It was softer than the ground.
"Jarrod…" he spoke again.
"Right here, Brother Nick. Right here."
"Don't…don't let me go," Nick pleaded. "Don't want to go…" Hazel eyes locked on blue. Jarrod Barkley's smile was forced. Nick could see that. Jarrod squeezed Nick's hand again as Tom Barkley climbed into the wagon and took Nick's other hand. Before his son could speak, Tom Barkley's voice filled the air reassuring his son.
"Boy, yer going one place and that's home. Yer mother is waiting for ya and so is Heath. Ya can rest easy, Son. I promise. But yer not going anywhere, no where, ya hear me?" Nick tried to answer his father. He always did. Tom Barkley commanded respect that way. "Look at me, Boy. You stay awake now, ya hear? I got a working ranch ta run and I don't mean ta run it without ya or yer brother. Nicholas! Ya stay awake." Nick tried. Every rut, every bump the wagon hit caused him to cry out. Tom kept talking to him, telling him where they were along the route home. Damn the bullet. Damn the men who did this. Nick used his anger to survive. He had to live for his brother. He had to live for his family. He had to…
"Nick!" Victoria Barkley's voice cried. "Oh my God. Nick!"
"Victoria, wait," Tom ordered.
"Nick, we're going to lift you out of the wagon," Jarrod said. Nick rolled his eyes. He was at the end of his rope.
"Mother," he whispered. "Take me…Heath."
"Nick," Jarrod sighed. "You'll never change." Jarrod's fond words followed Nick into the darkness as his body was lifted one more time and he let himself be taken away on a cloud of darkness where there was no more pain and no more worry even for the brother he loved.
Chapter 4
Heath woke to the commotion of Nick being brought into the bedroom they had shared before the war. He felt drowsy, drugged, exhausted. Trying to make sense out of chaos, the boy's blue eyes closed to concentrate on sound. His head hurt too much for anything else.
"Take it easy with him," Tom Barkley was saying. "He's got a bullet in his back." A bullet. Heath tried to think. Where'd the bullet come from?
"Doc, can ya get the bullet out," Tom demanded.
"Tom, I have to examine him. Victoria, the children need you. They're both upset."
"Jarrod," Victoria ordered. "Change your clothes and get cleaned up. Then see to your brother and sister. Tell them Heath and Nick are hurt, but they'll be fine. Please Jarrod. Make sure they get some dinner too." Victoria's tone left no room for argument. Heath knew that tone…knew that his mother would not let anything more happen to him or Nick, not if she was around. If only…Heath thought…if only he'd never left the ranch, none of this would have happened.
Time moved in slow motion. Heath slipped in and out of consciousness as Dr. Merar did surgery on Nick to remove the bullet in his back. Tom insisted on sitting with Heath while Victoria assisted the doctor with the surgery. Heath could feel his father's hand in his as the big man silently prayed. The blond always knew how much his father loved his children. Dimly he remembered Nick telling him how his parents reacted when they were notified of his death. He felt so guilty about it all. He tried to talk to his father but he couldn't. He couldn't talk anymore. He was just too tired. He felt his mother caring for him and heard her caring for Nick with Tom's help and Jarrod's. Finally he slept until someone jumping up and down on him brought him back to reality.
"Heath!" Audra's voice woke her brother. "Heath, Nick's calling ya." From a fog of sleep, Heath woke to see his sister sitting on his legs. Her face was so young, so much more peaceful than he felt. She was still wearing his old clothes. Audra!
"Sis…" he sighed. "Guess I'm home."
"Yep. Nick brought ya home. But someone shot you."
"I know. How's our big brother?"
"Grouchy," Nick muttered. "Heath, you awake?"
"Guess so."
"Ya all right?"
"Think so."
"Still not talking much are ya?" Heath could hear Nick's slightly heavy breathing. His brother was still in pain though he probably wouldn't admit it.
"Heath?"
"Get some sleep, Nick. I aint going nowhere."
"Better not," Nick muttered. Audra grinned.
"I think he's going back to sleep, Heath," she told him.
"Good. What are you doing?"
"Just sitting." Heath had to smile. She giggled at his lopsided grin. He loved his sister. She was so innocent. There was no way she could possibly understand what had happened to him in prison. He moved his legs rocking her back and forth.
"Aren't we too old for this," he teased feeling like a kid again.
"Maybe, but it's still fun," Audra giggled again.
"Yeah. Can you get me some water?" Heath asked.
"Sure." Audra moved to get the water just as her father and mother came into the room. Heath was squinting his eyes shut forcing himself to sit up. Leaning against the pillows he took the cup and was drinking when he saw them…his parents, Tom Barkley, a man larger than life to his sons, his face rugged and worn. He'd aged while Heath was gone. His mother still appeared as beautiful as she'd always been except that her hair was white. Had he done that to her? He put the water down on the bedside dresser as Audra ran to her father.
"Heath's awake, Papa. He was playing with me." Tom picked his daughter up in his arms. He planted a kiss on his forehead, his gaze sitting on his son in an unspoken message.
"I'm glad Sweetheart. Gene's in the barn with his pony. I think he could use your help in grooming him."
"Okay, Papa." Audra stood. She hurried over to her brother.
"Heath, ya promise you won't go anywhere?" the child asked in all her innocence. Heath looked from the girl to his parents, then to Nick sleeping near by. Audra had no idea what she was asking. Heath hadn't had a choice when Nick dragged him out of the hospital. All the way north, he'd wondered if he could come back to the life he left.
"Heath?" Victoria came into the room. Something about his appearance must have alerted her because she didn't hesitate as she went on. "No matter what you're thinking, this is your home. This is where you belong." Heath held back his tears at those words. Not wanting to upset his sister, he nodded to her.
"I promise, Sis," he told her. Audra skipped away, trusting Heath implicitly. Heath closed his eyes, only to find his parents sitting close by, Tom on Nick's bed, Victoria on his. He heard the swish of her skirts as he always did and his father's boots. He felt her sit on the bed, her palm touching his forehead.
"Thank-you, Son," she said. Heath's blue eyes shot open.
"For what?"
"Your promise. Audra missed you. We all did."
"I know. Nick said." Victoria's soft hand brushing Heath's made him stare at the hand. He hadn't seen anything that resembled a lady since he'd been in Carterson. On the way home he hadn't really paid attention to the land. The train had only gone so far. They'd had to ride the last week across country on horses they bought. Besides there were no ladies who could compare to his mother. Slowly his haunted blue eyes met the mother's.
"I missed you," she told him. "Oh, Heath." She laid her head on his chest. "I thought I'd lost my child." Heath didn't know what to say, so he remained quiet. Finally he took his hand and brushed her back.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "My fault." Victoria sat up. Her hand brushed his forehead again.
"Heath, none of what happened to you is your fault. None of it."
"I signed up without Father's permission," Heath managed. "Nick got shot by two men who…who worked at Carterson." Victoria and Tom exchanged glances. Heath looked from one to the other.
"What?" he asked. "What do you know?"
"We think they caught the men, Heath."
"How?"
"They were playing cards in town and were cheating. When they were called on it, they put up a fight and were killed. One of them had Nick's wallet on him. The other one had his gun."
"What'd they look like?" Heath asked. Tom shook his head.
"I don't know, but their ID said Deke Holland…and…"
"David Reems," Heath finished. "That's them. They…they must have followed us from the hospital. Father, I don't know why, I swear. I'd give anything for this to just be over with."
"It is over with, Buddy," Nick said from the other bed.
"No!" Heath cried. The blond turned his attention to Nick who could only move his head to look at his brother. "They shot ya, Nick. They wanted ta kill us."
"That's kind a what war is about, Heath," Nick told him. "It's senseless and stupid, men shooting at anything that moves, and feeling guilty about it."
"I hated it," Heath clenched. His hands fell into fists of anger and hurt. Tom touched his son's leg.
"Iffn ya liked it, Heath, that's the time ta worry. Ya understand me, Son?' Several seconds passed while Heath stared at his father. In a flash the big man had moved to his son's side, gathering him in his arms. Heath's sobs filled the room. Victoria rubbed Heath's back softly. No one spoke. Nick moved slightly biting back the pain. His heart went out to his brother. Heath's pain was far worse than his, and Nick felt like hell. Nick's war time experiences were a nightmare to him. He couldn't assimilate the emotions. Heath was years younger and he'd been through worse according to the docs at the Military Hospital. He was going to need help. And Nick planned to be there for him.
"Sh, Son. You're home now. We're going to help you through this. Boy, we missed ya more'n we can say. No matter what you're thinking, Boy. You're home and ya aint alone no more."
"Pa…I shouldn't have gone," Heath managed. "You were right. You were right." Tom only held the boy tighter. What could he say, Nick wondered. His gaze met his mother's.
"Damn Kid," Nick muttered hoping to lighten the mood. "Sits there blubbering and I need a drink of water." Heath's sobs abated as he tried not to laugh and failed. He didn't move from his father's embrace while Victoria got her second son a glass of water.
"Nick, settle down. Doctor says you're going to have to take it easy and I don't want any complaints out of you."
"Me?" Nick asked in all innocence. "Heck I reckon I aint got nothing better than to sit here and bug Little Brother iffn he don't go traipsing off again."
"He won't, Nick," Victoria promised just as Heath had to Audra. "You're all home now and my boys aren't going anywhere…or else." Nick chuckled, and moaned. Heath laid back on the bed.
"Boy howdy," he said very softly. "Nick, ya scared me good."
"You two scared us all good," Tom told his sons. "Now get some rest, both of you."
"Damn fool Kid," Nick muttered again moving himself a bit more in bed. Victoria went over to him, making sure he took some laudanum for the pain. After he protested he took the medicine. When the boys were alone at last, not knowing their parents were watching them from the doorway, Heath's voice could be heard talking to his brother.
"Nick?"
"Yeah, Buddy?"
"Thanks."
"For what?"
"For bringing me home."
"Go to sleep, Buddy," Nick's voice replied. As he fell asleep he seemed to mutter unconsciously. "As if I'd ever give up."
hr
"Mother, he's hurting," Nick told Victoria a few weeks later. Nick was leaning on a cane on a patio outside watching Heath help Gene in riding his pony. Victoria stood next to her son, her arm around him.
"I know that, Nick. I just don't know how to reach him."
"I told you and Father and Jarrod what happened to him in Carterson. Hell, Mother if I'd gone through half of what he did…I don't know what I would have done. We can't rush him."
"Don't swear, Nick. You know him so well. Have you seen his back?" Victoria looked up at her son. He stared at Heath, nodding.
"The first day I was at the hospital. The nurses said he was a legend among the men because he was the youngest and he kept their spirits up with stories about our family, about the lodge, about us…and we left him there." Nick pounded his cane on the ground. "I can't stand it, Mother. I can't stand to know what he went through. It's not right. He's just a kid."
"He's a man now, Nick. He's a man you can be proud of."
"I know that," Nick ground out. "I knew it before he went to war. He's always been special, Mother." Victoria smiled.
"Especially to you, Nick. There's been a connection between you I suspect existed from the moment you met. You're two halves of a whole, you two." Nick leaned against the column that held up the house his father built. He watched his brothers and sister. He spoke from his heart, from the very essence of the soul that made Nick Barkley who he was.
"When we got that telegram, Mother, I thought my heart would stop. I thought…for just a minute what the world would be like without him and it was so empty I thought…well I went to that hospital and I found him. Mother…he was only a shell of the person he is now and it took forever for him to even trust me enough to come home. I love him." Victoria leaned against her son. Even with a cane, she barely moved his physical strength. Her words meant everything to him.
"Someday Heath will leave the ranch," Victoria said. "He'll want to leave, Nick, to go on a cattle drive or buy some horses, ride in the hills and be his own man."
"Hell…er, excuse me. Mother, Heath has always been his own man. He always will be."
"But he's learning again who he can trust. You won't let him down Nick. I know that. Don't put so much pressure on yourself either. You're not Heath's father. That's Tom's job. Just be his friend, Nick. Just be his big brother. That's all he needs just like you need Jarrod and Gene needs Heath. That's why you boys are so strong. You all have each other." Her words made sense, Nick thought. Nick leaned over and kissed his mother on the cheek.
"How did you get to be so wise?" he asked her.
"Simple," Victoria answered. "I'm a mother."
Several weeks passed. Both Nick and Jarrod made a concentrated effort to spend time with Heath, Audra and Gene. The youngest two could barely manage to let Heath out of their sight. Finally school started. Jarrod was just starting up his law practice in Stockton. Heath was becoming more comfortable during the day with being home. At night his dreams remained between him and Nick. Nick hadn't mentioned the nightmares that kept them both up often for most of the night. While Victoria offered Nick another room so the boys could get bigger beds and have more room, Nick refused. He didn't know if his parents were aware of Heath's nightmares, but he wasn't leaving his brother until Heath was able to at least start to deal with his past. The first day the two of them could mount their horses and help their father on the ranch was the frosting on their cake, but Nick knew they weren't out of the woods yet, not by a long shot.
"Heath, get that stray," Nick hollered from his mount. "He's wondering off."
"Got em, Nick," Heath hollered back. Heath raced his horse to bring the stray back in. Tom Barkley came around to bring the herd closer in. They were running the herd down closer to the house to brand them and take them to market in the next few weeks. Nick could see his father watching both of them, more than he ever had before. As Heath herded the stray in, Nick waved to the boy. They were fine, both of them. His father shouldn't worry so much.
At the end of the day, the boys were exhausted. Heath grinned at Nick as his brother washed his face in the trough.
"I bet I can get to the bath faster than you, Big Brother, unless you think Mother's going to let ya to the supper table with a lick and a promise."
"Boy, ya talk smart. Ya better git moving," Nick taunted. Heath grinned and flicked some water at his brother, blinding him temporarily while Tom roared nearby. Nick raced after Heath into the house. "Boy, you're in trouble now." Nick was running so fast, he couldn't stop himself bumping into Heath when the boy halted abruptly at his mother's voice.
"Heath? Heath, wait." Heath turned on the staircase as his father came in the door and Jarrod came out of his study.
"Mother? Something wrong?" Victoria's gaze went to Tom. She went over to her husband and handed him the local paper. She pointed out a headline to her husband halfway down the page. Tom's face paled.
"Father? What is it?" Heath demanded. He came down the stairs to stand in front of his father. Tom handed the paper to his son. Heath read what his parents had as his family watched. Nick was unconsciously holding his breath. Jarrod came to stand next to Nick.
"What's going on?" he asked.
"I don't know, Pappy." Nick hissed. "Sh."
"No!" Heath exclaimed. He swatted the paper on the floor, then tore it to pieces. Standing up he flew at the wall hitting it in a rage of anger he hadn't showed since he came home…and never in front of his family. "No! That got off without paying for his crimes. It aint right. It ain't." Heath burst through the front door, his rage overcoming him as he grabbed plants and bushes and destroyed anything in his path. Nick grabbed his brother while Jarrod picked up the paper.
"Heath!" Nick cried as Tom joined him trying to quell his son. "Heath stop it. Stop it now. Come on, Buddy. Nothing can be that bad. Come on." Nick tackled the younger, thinner man to the ground. Heath beat the ground with his hands, screaming in anger and pain until his rage was spent and all he could do was cry. Nick held him.
"They set him free," Heath sobbed. "They set him free. I'll kill him. I'll kill him myself."
"No, Heath," Nick cried. Nick looked up to Jarrod, Tom and Victoria. Jarrod read the words out loud that had set Heath off.
"Matt Bentell, Commander of Carterson Prison cleared of charges of brutality against prisoners of war. Released from Federal Prison." Heath sobbed again. Nick's arms encircled his little brother.
"They didn't even ask me," Heath mumbled. "Did they ask any of us who survived? Did they ask us how we lived through Bentell's hell? Did they? Well it don't matter cause I'll kill him myself if I ever see him again. I promise ya that. On the lives of all my friends, I promise ya." Heath brushed Nick off and went into the house. Victoria looked helplessly to her sons and her husband.
"What did they do him?" she asked.
"We'll take care of him, Victoria. He'll be alright." Victoria's gray eyes looked doubtful. So did Jarrod and Nick. None of them could know how deeply Heath's hatred for Matt Bentell went. That night after Heath had taken his bath and had dinner with his family, he went outside. There Nick found his brother leaning against a fence, watching a wild stallion run, trying to get free of his cage. The animal was sleek and beautiful. Before Nick could stop him, Heath opened the gate. The magnificent animal moved so fast, he hit the fence and threw Heath down to the ground. Nick's heart was in his mouth as his blond brother fell. Heath…Heath. Kneeling beside the boy, Nick found Heath very still, his eyes closed as if he'd been hit. A trickle of blood dripped down his head, close to where he had been grazed by that bullet.
"Heath!" Nick screamed. "Heath." Scooping the boy up in his arms, he rushed towards the house with him. Though the boy was tall, he was so thin, Nick felt as though he were carrying Audra or Gene. Halfway to the house, Heath woke.
"Stop it, Nick. Stop it. Let me down," Heath ordered.
"You're hurt ya idiot. What did ya do that for? Ya coulda been killed."
"I would have been free then, Nick," Heath answered. "Just like that animal. He deserved to be free." Heath stood. Leaning against a tree, he put his head against his arm. "I'm sorry, Nick. I know Father had his heart set on training that animal, but he needed his freedom." Nick's hand on his back was strong and comforting.
"Just like you did, Heath. I understand that, honestly."
Heath wasn't crying. He wasn't as emotional as Nick would have thought. Slowly the young man turned to him.
"Will it ever end, Nick? Will I ever be able ta do anything without remembering, without being angry and bitter. Nick? I can't do this. I can't…" Nick felt the tears in his eyes as he pulled his brother into a hug.
"Buddy, listen ta me," he told the boy. "Ya listen and listen good. It's going to get better. Every day. This family is helping you. Heath, you've come a long way since you came home."
"I feel like I'm losing my heart, Nick. I feel like Matt Bentell ripped it right outta me, and aint nothing I can do to stop him."
"Yes, you can, Buddy. Yes you can!"
"How! How do ya know, Nick!" Heath's pain was so poignant, so touching. Nick held his brother tighter as Heath mumbled to himself.
"Heath, I know cause I got your heart, Little Brother. I'm keeping your heart right here." Heath stepped back as Nick's hand went to his own heart.
"I aint worth it, Nick. I don't know why ya think I am. I left when I shouldn't have I almost got ya killed coming home. I almost got ya killed the day I met ya. Why do ya fight for me so hard?"
"Heath if you don't know, I aint about to tell you," Nick grinned. "Well suppose I could, but I betcha know the answer ta that one."
"Spose." Heath turned to walk back towards the house. He saw Tom and Victoria and the younger children standing with Jarrod on the porch. He wasn't sure how they got there, but seeing them under the flickering lamps in front of the home he loved, representing all he had fought to live for, Heath stopped. He looked to Nick who stood by his side.
"Nick, if yer keeping my heart," he started…and then hesitated.
"Yeah, Buddy?"
"Iffn yer keeping my heart…ya mind iffn I keep yours too?" Nick hugged his brother again, this time unable to keep the tears away as the family joined them. He slapped Heath on the back, pushing away the haunting terrors that were so much a part of him.
"Ya always had it, Buddy and ya always will." The brothers shut the front door of the mansion behind them, their lives stretching out in front of them. Each kept the other's heart deep within his own and they'd never give up on the other…never in this life or the next.