Chapter Eight

"You want to do what!" Nick bellowed as he stood in his uncle's barn. Heath had just told him what he wanted the two of them to do. For a split second Nick had thought about what he'd been doing in trying to help Heath feel part of the family by forcing himself not to speak so loud, or jumping down the young man's throat. However, he'd started thinking about what his uncle had asked him and how he, himself, had been feeling since putting on what might as well be a mask. Jim Barkley was right. Nick had to be himself. "Are you crazy? What about our ranch? What about the work that is waiting there for us! It's a working ranch and it ain't going to work itself either!"

Heath couldn't help but grin slightly; he had wondered what it would take for this exact thing to happen; for Nick to start treating him like the rest of the family. Not knowing about the conversation Nick had had with Jim, Heath figured it was simply 'neglecting' the ranch that had done it. "It doesn't have too." Heath moved away from the stall he stood next to. "There's nothing major going on at the moment. McColl and the other men can handle what jobs there are. And, if something comes up, Jarrod can always send for us. I tell you, there's something not right when it comes to Ruth and her son, Timothy. I just want to be able to find out what it is and help them if I can."

"And the fact that she's rather beautiful has nothing to do with it, right?" Nick asked, not about to admit he'd also been trying to think of an excuse to come back to Abbottsville the first minute he got the chance.

"No more than it would have if she lived in Stockton and opened an antique store in middle of town." Heath joked as he thought on how Nick had practically tripped over himself prior to the trip trying to meet the pretty new store owner.

"I was only helping that gal carry some crates into the storeroom!" Nick snapped; he wasn't about to admit he'd been interested until the woman's husband and two children had stepped out of the store's back room. His reaction made Heath inwardly laugh.

"Look," Heath grew serious. "I just want to help see what I can do to help Timothy out, though would it hurt to show his mother we're friends not enemies?" Heath, who knew that when it came to Ruth, he had no serious interest except to help her, asked. "Let's just stay one extra week; I'm sure things will be fine back at home. We'll simply wire the family and let them know we've been delayed." He kept his eyes on Nick.

"I've got nothing against being their friends, but why should that require us to extend our stay? Why not just invite Jim to bring them to Stockton for a bit?" Nick asked.

"We could do that too, but what would it hurt for us to stay a bit longer also?" Heath asked as he headed for the barn doors. The debate between the two brothers continued as they walked out of the barn. However, by the time the two brothers reached the house Nick had agreed to extend their stay. Of course, it helped that he, unlike Heath, started planning on finding time to find out more about Ruth.

~oOo~

While Heath was talking to Nick about staying in Abbottsville, Timothy was talking to Ruth. He had surprised her by walking into her bedroom, the door was wide open and she was changing the sheets on the bed. He had told her he was going to finish reading another book; he was the biggest book worm she knew.

"Something wrong?" She asked as she slid one of her pillows into its pillow case; the boy had a confused upon his face, and it worried her.

"Heath Barkley has problems with his right leg." Timothy looked at Ruth who about dropped the pillow in her hands.

"Did he tell you that?" She asked, though she did not doubt him. How could she when she'd watched the way Heath Barkley walked. No, he didn't limp or pull his leg around the way Timothy did, but there was something just a tad different about it. She'd wondered about it, but people who were doing their best to be good, even if they did have a couple of secrets, didn't nose into someone else's affairs. She was amazed when Timothy answered in more than once sentence.

"No," Timothy climbed up on a chair that set against the side of the door way. "But, while we were working on the fence, he showed me how to help without letting my bad leg get in the way of things. Later, I was watching him work and," he said as he shrugged his shoulders, "he does the practically the same thing."

Ruth, who had in all honesty, seen a genuine look of compassion in Heath's eyes when he first entered her uncle's home, realized she'd mistaken the look for pity. She had inwardly bristled at the time. Now, she couldn't help but think maybe what she'd seen in Heath's eyes wasn't even close to pity. Maybe, just maybe, what she'd actually seen was genuine empathy. It shook her to the core, as she'd spent so many years dealing with just the opposite emotions from those around her and Timothy that she'd almost forgotten such things as genuine sympathy and sincere empathy even existed. "Then I'd say there's a good chance he knows exactly how you feel, but don't go asking him about his leg." Ruth shot him a stern look. "Even if you're right, it wouldn't be polite."

"Yes, mama," Timothy slid off the chair and headed for the doorway only to stop and turn around.

"What is it?" Ruth asked as she saw the wheels in the young boy's eyes turning.

"Mister Heath and his brother are nice. Before Mister Nick left he fixed my toy pistol for me." Timothy turned back around and walked out the door.

Before she had half a chance to think about what Timothy had just said-in more words then he'd ever used before-Heath appeared in the door way. Not knowing if he'd heard everything Timothy had just said, Ruth found herself holding her breath, wondering why he was standing in her doorway instead of being with his brother and uncle.