Chapter One. The Showdown.

Jarrod sat at his desk pretending to work while waiting for his brothers to come in for the day. Eugene had returned to Berkley the week before, and Audra had left a few days earlier for a three-week trip to Denver to visit with friends. Without Audra's chatter, it was easier to notice that something was off. It had been less than two weeks since Heath had arrived at the Barkley mansion, and his bravado from that first night had been replaced by silence. He attended meals as requested, he worked harder than anyone all day, and he was always polite, but it was obvious he wasn't comfortable.

This morning after the two cowboys had left for the range, Victoria mentioned those same concerns to Jarrod. Since nothing was compelling at his office, Jarrod worked from home so he could be there when his brothers came through the door. The frequent bruises on Heath's face gave him a good clue as to what was at least part of the problem.

It wasn't long before Nick burst through the door, his spurs jingling as he strode into the library. He glanced at Jarrod. "You're not working late tonight?"

"Uh, that is what I'm doing. Working. Still."

"Oh. Well, not in town, then." Nick slid off his leather gloves.

Without being obvious, Jarrod scanned Nick's hands. And, yes, there they were. Bruises on his right-hand knuckles. The knuckle on his middle finger was busted open.

"You get in a fight?" Jarrod asked.

"No. Why?"

"Your hitting hand looks a little rough."

Nick shrugged. "It happens." He turned and stomped to the refreshment cart and poured himself a whiskey. "Want one?"

Jarrod picked up his half-full glass. "I'm good."

Nick collapsed into the chair nearest to Jarrod. He took a long drink.

"How's Heath working out?"

"Good." Nick put his feet, boots and all, on a low table. "He's a hard worker. Knows what he's doing. Can't complain."

"How are you getting along with him?"

Nick shrugged. "He doesn't give me any grief."

"Why didn't he come in with you?"

Nick looked sharply at Jarrod, his dark blue/green eyes intense, the way they were before an explosion. "He's putting away the horses."

"Your horse?"

"Yeah. Why? You got a problem with that?"

Jarrod paused and swirled his drink, then took a slow sip. He set down the glass and looked at Nick. "Why aren't you putting away your own horse?"

Nick scowled. "Am I on trial? Is this an injunction or a quest or whatever you call it?"

"A deposition?" Jarrod smiled. "No. I'm just wondering if you're treating Heath like hired help or a brother."

Nick slammed his palm on the chair and jumped to his feet. "He doesn't mind doing it! And why is it any of your business anyway?"

Jarrod scratched his head. "Just don't mistreat your brother, Nick. Don't treat him like he's less than you."

Nick glowered at his brother. "Why don't you go back to what you're doing and mind your own business?" He strode from the room.

Jarrod took another sip from his scotch. He'd learned what he needed to learn, even if the witness was hostile. Now it was time to hear from the opposition.

It was more than half an hour later before Heath walked quietly past Jarrod and went straight to the refreshment cart. He poured himself a tall whiskey and took a long drink.

"Rough day?" Jarrod asked.

Heath flinched. "Sorry. I didn't see you there."

"That's okay." Jarrod waited for him to approach.

Heath finally turned and faced Jarrod. He had another fresh bruise on his cheek to go with the black eye from yesterday and busted lip from Monday.

"Who hit you?"

Heath closed his eyes for a moment. "I didn't start anything."

"I didn't figure you did. I just want to know who's using you for a punching bag."

Heath shook his head. "I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

Jarrod stood and stretched. He walked closer to Heath. "You know, Heath, no one has the right to beat on you."

"I said don't worry about it." Heath's voice had an edge to it, and he gave an equally edgy glare at Jarrod.

Jarrod nodded at the chair Nick had vacated earlier. "Sit down a minute."

Heath didn't move.

Jarrod walked to the French doors and closed them. Then he returned to his chair at the desk. "We need to get this sorted out," he said quietly.

"Then you're talking to the wrong person." Heath's crystal blue eyes stared through Jarrod.

"Heath, I know you're not the problem here. But it's not healthy for you to be Nick's punching bag."

Heath flinched slightly at the mention of Nick's name, but then mumbled, "Tell me about it."

"Why don't you hit him back?" It was Jarrod's turn to aim his baby blues.

Heath's shoulders dropped. He didn't know how to explain it. He wanted to win Nick over—and hitting him didn't seem to be the best way to earn his trust. But he didn't think Jarrod would understand that.

"Well?"

Heath wiped sweat from his brow. The only thing he ever wanted was a family. He didn't need money. He didn't need a mansion. He didn't even need the Barkley name. He just wanted to belong to a family. He used to dream what it would be like to have brothers and sisters. What it would be like to know there were people who had his back. People who cared about him. And now that he had this opportunity to be part of a family, he didn't want to ruin it.

"You must have a reason not to hit him back," Jarrod prompted.

"I got lots of reasons."

"Okay. Give them to me."

Not able to articulate his real reason, Heath searched for an answer. "I don't think brothers should hit each other."

Jarrod laughed. "You've met Nick, right?"

Heath sighed deeply. He'd never met a family as violent as this one, and Nick was the worst of the lot.

Jarrod shrugged. "Brothers in this family have been slugging it out since the day Nick was old enough to form a fist. What's the next reason?"

"Nick is the boss." Heath couldn't imagine any situation in which it would be okay to punch the boss—even though he'd worked for some bosses who sorely deserved it.

"That doesn't give him the right—"

"I'm not going to slug the boss in front of the men."

Jarrod nodded slowly. "Okay. That's probably good thinking. The men are pretty loyal to Nick."

Heath hadn't even considered that. "It's just not right."

"It's not right for him to beat on you, either."

Heath shrugged. "I can take it."

Jarrod studied Heath for a few minutes. "It seems to me that Nick is a bully."

"The men all seem to like him."

"I haven't figured that one out yet." Jarrod took out a cigar and offered it to Heath.

"No, thanks."

Jarrod bit off the end and then lit it. He pointed again to the chair next to him.

This time, Heath sat.

"Next time Nick hits you, I want you to hit him back."

Heath shook his head. That would be asking for more trouble than he was willing to take on. "I won't hit him in front of the men—nor will I hit him on company time."

"Then don't. Wait until you get home."

"I don't throw the first punch."

Jarrod smiled. "You're a good man, Heath. A good man. But, you know, if he slugs you out in the field and you wait until you get home to hit him back, you're not throwing the first punch."

Heath took a long drink of his whiskey, his eyes on the floor. He knew he needed to do something about Nick, but this wasn't quite what he had planned. He wasn't done figuring out why Nick was doing it and studying his options for how to fix it. But how long would it take for him to do that? He glanced at Jarrod, then returned his eyes to his hands. "I'm just trying to fit in around here. Find my place. And I don't think slugging Nick is going to make that any easier."

"Oh, yes, it will," Jarrod said. "Nick is going to keep picking on you until you stand up to him. He's trying to push you into doing it, and he's not going to respect you until you do."

Heath met Jarrod's eyes but didn't say anything. Jarrod surely knew Nick better than Heath did.

"And you do know you don't have to put his horse away for him, don't you?"

Heath shrugged. "I don't mind."

"That's not the point. The point is that Nick isn't showing you the respect he should."

Heath released a long sigh. "Just what do you want me to do?"

"The next time he tells you to put his horse away, just tell him to do it himself."

Heath stared at Jarrod. "I can't imagine why I'd want to poke a bear."

Jarrod smiled. "Because he'll try to hit you."

"He will hit me."

"No, he won't. Not if you're expecting it and duck."

Heath's eyebrows shot up. He'd already figured out Nick's tells. The way he'd scuff his foot like a raging bull before throwing a punch. The way he almost always went for the face. He could've ducked the punch Nick threw today, but he figured it would just make Nick madder.

"You have to be fast, though. He has longer arms than you do, so you need to hit him before he's expecting it. Think you can do that?"

"I know I can."

Jarrod grinned. "Okay. Good. Then lambast him but good. Lay him out."

A hint of a smile played at Heath's lips. He sometimes dreamed about doing that. But was that the best approach?

"Think you can do that?" Jarrod asked.

"No doubt."

Jarrod grinned. "Good. Do it. Tomorrow."

Heath hesitated. "What about Mother? I don't want to upset her."

"Trust me, Mother will be proud of you. She's the one who asked me to talk to you."

Heath nodded. Surely, Jarrod and Victoria knew Nick better than he did. Maybe they were right.

"And be careful tomorrow. His knuckles are pretty beat up, so he probably won't be slugging. Of course, he has a mean backhand, so watch for that."

Heath nodded again.

"And try to stay around Duke. Nick won't pull anything in front of McColl."

Heath stood and emptied his drink. "Thanks, Jarrod."

"You're welcome. And, please, don't hesitate to let me know if Nick doesn't behave. I can still take him, too."

Heath just stared at his oldest brother. Jarrod was the only member of this family who hadn't shown violent tendencies.

On Thursday, Heath was nervous. Thankfully, Nick had assigned him to repair fences downed in a recent storm. Heath was relieved. He could use the alone time to get his thoughts together. Especially since his head ached from the sun beating down on his black eye curtesy of Nick. He only had two posts to go when he noticed a strong, healthy wild stallion in the valley below. This was an opportunity he may not get again. He hated to leave his assigned work area, but a fine stallion like that would be valuable to the ranch. So, he left the worksite to go back to the stables and get a bucket of feed to put near the stallion. He added a couple of carrots to the top of the bucket, then whistled for the horse. The stallion looked interested but waited for Heath to move away before approaching. Which was fine with Heath. As long as the stallion knew where the feed and treats came from, all was good. His goal was to get the creature accustomed to humans and trusting they wouldn't hurt him. It would be at least a week before he'd try to capture the horse.

Heath grinned at the animal, then hopped on Gal and returned to his worksite. And then he saw Nick. Heath's stomach turned and his headache increased. So much for his peaceful day.

Nick sat on his Appaloosa, his arms crossed at his chest. "Where have you been, boy?"

"I saw a stallion in the valley. I took a bucket of feed to him so he can get accustomed to humans—"

"What? You don't get a wild horse 'accustomed' to humans! You lasso the thing, you bring him back to the corral, and then you ride him until you break him."

Heath glared at him. He didn't feel much like tolerating one of Nick's rants. "Maybe that's how you do it, but it's not how I do it."

"And you just rode away from your work to go all the way back to the stables—"

"Yes, Nick, I did. But don't you worry. I'll get my work done before I call it a day." They were alone, so if Nick wanted to punch him, he was punching back. He was in no mood to take anything else from Nick.

Nick eyed him, sizing him up. "You darn well better, boy. You darn well better."

Heath just turned away and went back to work. Nick, still on his horse, watched him for a couple of minutes, then rode away.

Heath was seething. He tried hard to keep his temper under control, but he was tired of Nick. He wished Nick would've hit him. He'd certainly done so for lesser crimes. Such as for not knowing where the supplies were because no one had told him. Or because he didn't know where the property limits were. Heath used the accompanying adrenaline to finish his assignment quickly.

He rode back to stables. The other men had already quit for the day, which was good. He'd rather be the last one back than the first. But he noticed Nick's horse was still out. His stomach churned slightly, but he slid off his mount, released the cinch, and pulled the saddle off Gal. He put up the saddle, then gave the horse a good rub down. He always enjoyed this special time alone with his mare. He spoke softly to her as he started the final part of his routine, brushing her and telling her how much he appreciated her and her wise counsel.

Just as he finished, Nick rode up. "Did you get that fencing done?" he demanded.

"Yes. I told you I would."

Nick unmounted and tossed the reins toward Heath.

Heath tossed them back.

"What?" Nick demanded. "Put him up for me."

"No."

Nick strode to Heath. "What's your problem, boy? You've been impudent all day. Now, put him up for me."

Heath glared at his older brother. "Do it yourself." He bumped Nick's shoulder as he strode past.

Nick grabbed his arm and swung him around.

Heath was ready.

Nick's fist flew towards him, but Heath expected it and ducked.

Nick was thrown off balance. Heath grabbed his shirt with his left hand and swung his right. He caught Nick's jaw.

Nick dropped.

Heath looked down at him.

Nick was out cold. Blood trickled from a thick split in his lower lip.

Heath went back to Gal and scratched her ears. "I'm sorry you had to witness that."

Gal rubbed her muzzle against Heath's neck.

Nick groaned.

"Got to go," Heath said to the horse and hurried around Nick and to the house

Jarrod stood at the door. He moved aside to let Heath inside. "How did it go?"

"He's starting to come around. Should be bursting in here anytime now."

Jarrod laughed and clapped Heath on the back. They went into the library, but before any drinks were poured, the front door banged open.

"HEATH!" Nick boomed.

Heath looked at Jarrod. "Sounds like he's ready for round two."

"OUTSIDE!" Nick yelled.

Heath stepped into the foyer. "Lead the way."

"I'm tired of your smart mouth, boy."

Heath followed Nick outside. Before they were off the porch, Nick's fists were tight.

Heath jumped over the wall into the yard.

"You runnin' from me?" Nick darted down the stairs after him.

"Nope. Not running. I just don't want to crack your head open like a watermelon when it hits the concrete floor. Out here, you'll have a softer landing."

"Oh, you think you're funny, don't you?" Nick pulled back his fist.

Heath had the perfect shot, but he still wasn't going to hit first. Instead, he dodged Nick's punch at the last second.

Nick lost his balance and dropped to his knee. He jumped back up, swinging around to face Heath, his face contorted with rage.

Heath stepped into a punch that knocked Nick flat out. It was almost too easy.

Jarrod stepped out onto the porch. "You know you're not going to continue to get by with that. He expects you to just take his punches. But now he's going to be ready for you."

"I figured that too. But I can still take him. Don't worry." Heath rubbed his sore knuckles. "I'm going to go get cleaned up—first, for a change—and take a nice, long bath with lots of hot water." He stopped and nodded toward the stables. "When he comes to, make sure he takes care of his horse."

Jarrod grinned. "I'll be happy to."