Betrayals

“Hi-ya! Get in there!” The tired mustangs were chivvied into the corral and Heath pushed his hat up and wiped his grimy forehead with an equally grimy shirtsleeve. He watched as Duke secured the gate before the blond cowboy dismounted, leading his horse for a well-deserved drink at the nearby trough. “Good work out there, Gal,” he told the mare with an appreciative pat on her shoulder. “Them mustangs didn’t have a chance.”

They were able to round up most of the herd that had been running wild in the hills and to Heath’s practiced eye, it appeared that some of them would make pretty good cowponies. Heath watched the new horses with the satisfaction of a job well done. It felt good and the fact that Nick had stayed up in the hills with two of the others hands made it feel even better.

Heath shivered uncomfortably. He had been sure the loud rancher was going to order him to stay and help trap that bay stallion that kept eluding them and he was glad he’d caught the foreman’s eye and was assigned to bringing the herd home before Nick had that chance. Over the past two days of living rough while after the horses, Heath had lost count of the number of innuendos he’d heard from his boss and the number of times he’d managed to avoid being caught alone with the powerful presence.

Heath shook his head, trying to shake the unnerving reactions Nick Barkley elicited in him. The man’s raw sexuality drew him like a moth to a flame, but Heath wasn’t about to let himself be seduced. Man or woman, Heath’s experience had taught him that all anyone ever wanted of anyone else was to use them, then throw them by the wayside when they tired of them. And Heath wasn’t about to let anyone do that to him, not ever again.

Heath again reconsidered his decision to stay at the Barkleys. He had run into Jarrod again when the lawyer returned late to the ranch one evening and the two men had enjoyed some quiet conversation while Heath helped put up the sorrel horse. He found himself relaxing in response to the other man’s easy manner, the talk ranging from their respective mothers to life on the ranch, even discovering they both had an affinity for the writings of Charles Dickens.

Heath sighed. The pay was good, the work was something he loved and he felt a rare friendship developing with Jarrod. He just didn’t know if all that was worth having to dodge the attentions of the other Barkley brother.

“Scamp! Scampy, get back here, you naughty puppy!”

Gal raised her head, muzzle dripping and Heath turned as well. A young blonde, barely into her teens, was chasing a small lop-eared dog. The puppy made a quick zigzag and ran into the corral, through the legs of several of the animals, spooking the mostly wild horses. One of the mares bolted, making a hasty jump that took her through the top rail of the corral, her panicked flight taking her straight at the young girl.

Before the scene even had a chance to process through his mind, Heath was across the yard and managed to push the girl out of harm’s way. The next thing he knew, he was flying through the air and was barely able to brace himself when the ground rushed up, his world erupting in an explosion of pain, followed by nothing but blackness.

*

“Well, it looks like they’ve managed to round up most of those horses,” Jarrod observed as he handed his mother down from the buggy. “There goes the peace and quiet we’ve had for the past couple days.”

“Oh, Jarrod,” the silver haired woman admonished him with a smile, “you know you miss your brother almost as much as I do when he’s not around.”

Jarrod chuckled. “You know me too well, lovely lady.” He scanned the yard as Victoria retrieved her parcels. “But I don’t hear or see the big lug. Wonder where he is?”

Before Victoria had a chance to respond, a black and white dog dashed in front of the carriage horse, causing it to snort in alarm, followed by a whirlwind of blonde.

“Scamp!”

Jarrod watched in alarm as his little sister chased her puppy closer to the corral with the newly-caught mustangs. “That fool girl’s going to get herself hurt!” he exclaimed suddenly and sprinted after her. He saw the dog dart into the corral, spooking the herd and caught sight of one of the horses leap out in panic. “Audra!” Putting on a burst of speed, Jarrod knew he was going to be too late, knew he wouldn’t be able to reach his little princess before she was trampled under those flying hooves, but he still had to try.

Then another blond streak entered his vision, knocking Audra out of the way before being barrelled over by the galloping horse, flying several feet to land in a crumpled heap. Jarrod finally reached his weeping sister and gathered her into his arms.

“Are you okay, honey? Are you hurt?”

Audra shook her head, crying inconsolably. Victoria rushed up and Jarrod relinquished his sister into her mother’s care.

“Send someone for the doctor, Jarrod,” she ordered her eldest son, “and go check on the young man. We owe him a huge debt of gratitude for saving Audra’s life.”

Jarrod nodded and left after giving Audra’s golden head a loving caress. He reached the inert body at the same time as the foreman.

“I sent Cody for the doc,” Duke told the dark-haired Barkley as they crouched down beside the blond ranch hand. Jarrod nodded, not taking his eyes off Heath and was relieved to see his chest rise and fall.

“Duke, help me get him into the house,” Jarrod told the other man. “His shoulder looks dislocated and I’ll be willing to bet he’s going to wake up with one devil of a headache.” He gave Duke a small grin. “And after what he’s done, Mother’s going to want to pamper him and wait on him hand and foot.”

Duke snickered as he lifted the cowboy’s feet, Jarrod grabbing him under the arms, mindful of the injured shoulder. “Now that’s something I’d being willing to pay to see. Somehow, I don’t think this boy’s the type to cotton to a bunch of mothering.”

“We’ll see what Dr. Merar says before we try to rescue him,” Jarrod chuckled. “If he’s lucky, he may not have to endure Mother’s tender mercies for very long.”

The two men got Heath into the house and up the grand staircase, Jarrod directing Duke to put the unconscious blond in the first guestroom at the top of the stairs. Laying him carefully on the bed, Jarrod was struck again by an uncanny sense that he knew this man, and knew him well. He blinked and the feeling was gone again before he could truly put a finger on it.

“Mr. Jarrod, Mr. Duke, what happened?”

Jarrod turned to find the family retainer standing in the doorway. “There was a bit of an accident, Silas, and this young man saved Audra’s life.” He looked back to the still form on the bed. “We’ll keep an eye on him until the doctor gets here, but other than that, I don’t think there’s much we can do.”

Silas nodded. “And Miss Audra?” he asked, brown eyes concerned.

Jarrod smiled at him reassuringly. “Just a scare, I think. But maybe some cocoa would make her feel better and tea for Mother.”

The older man nodded. “I’ll make it up right away, Mr. Jarrod. And I’ll start a batch of broth for the young man when he’s ready.”

Duke followed Silas to the door. “I’d better make sure everything out there’s under control. Tell Thomson we’re all real proud of him when he wakes up, will you?”

“I will,” Jarrod promised. He pulled a chair to the side of the bed and sat, the adrenaline from the recent events finally wearing off, leaving him weak and shaky. Jarrod dragged a hand across his face, resting his chin and trying not to think of what would have happened if Heath Thomson hadn’t been there or if the young man didn’t have the inclination to put himself in harm’s way to save a girl he didn’t even know. “Thank you, Heath,” he whispered, grateful beyond measure.

Jarrod had thought of Heath a few times since their talk by the corral and running into him in the barn several nights ago. Even though it was only a brief acquaintance, Jarrod felt himself drawn to the young man. Not in the way his brother Nick was obviously drawn to him, Jarrod reflected ruefully. He knew his brother all too well. When Nick Barkley saw something or someone he wanted, he was ruthless in his pursuit. And Heath Thomson was just the type to tempt the hot-blooded rancher. Nick liked his women beautiful, curvy and voluptuous and his men rugged, virile and well-muscled in equal measure. He hoped Heath either was attracted to Nick in the same way or was made of strong stuff; Nick wasn’t used to having to take ‘no’ for an answer.

In contrast, what Jarrod felt with Heath was an instant connection, like meeting a kindred spirit, which surprised the urbane lawyer since they barely knew each other. He sensed in Heath a quiet, introspective soul and knew instinctively that Heath’s loyalty and friendship was something to be prized and once given, would be unshakeable.

Jarrod stayed by Heath’s side, watching for any signs of consciousness, until Victoria brought the doctor up. He rose to his feet and shook Dr. Merar’s hand in greeting.

“Doctor.”

“Jarrod.” The older physician turned to the young man lying motionless on the bed. “Well, I can see the dislocated shoulder, but I’m going to examine him before I do anything about it. Jarrod, I’ll likely need your help in putting the shoulder back, so if you could stay, that would be appreciated.”

“Just let me know what you need me to do.”

The doctor turned to Victoria. “Victoria, if you’ll excuse us?”

Understanding that Dr. Merar wanted to give the young ranch hand some privacy, Victoria nodded. “Of course, Howard. I’ll be outside in the garden with Audra if you need anything.”

“Jarrod, I’d like you to take off his shirt,” Dr. Merar directed as he opened his medical bag. “Your mother told me what happened. Has Mr. Thomson regained consciousness at all since the accident?”

“No, he hasn’t,” Jarrod said as he started to unbutton the blue shirt. He noticed the buttons had been resewn several times over and in some places the fabric was so thin it wouldn’t stand much more mending. Jarrod was a bit surprised since the Barkleys paid their men well, but then remembered Heath arrived just after last payday and hadn’t received his wages yet. The lawyer made a mental note to add a bonus into Heath’s pay; it was obviously needed and in Jarrod’s mind, more than well-deserved.

Jarrod shook his head when he exposed the muscular chest, revealing several livid purple bruises. Dr. Merar came over to the side of the bed and gently palpated the ribs under the hoofprints, eliciting a soft moan from his patient.

“Seems like he’s got a few cracked ribs to contend with as well,” the white-haired physician observed. He pulled back Heath’s eyelids, checking the responses of his pupils. “Doesn’t seem to be a concussion so that’s good. Jarrod, let’s get this shirt off the rest of the way and you can help me with that shoulder. It’ll be easier if we take care of it while he’s still out.” Jarrod and the doctor eased Heath’s arms out of the sleeves.

“Go around the other side,” instructed Dr. Merar as he pulled a chair up to the side of the bed. “I’ll need you to hold him down so I can put it back into place.”

Jarrod nodded his understanding and knelt on the bed at Heath’s right side as the physician stood on the chair, pulling Heath’s arm up. The lawyer draped his arm across the blond’s chest, using his weight to hold Heath. Dr. Merar held the arm tightly and pulled steadily.

Heath’s eyes flew open when a sickening ‘pop’ sounded as the shoulder was pulled into place. He struggled to get up, eyes wide with pain and fear.

“Leave me alone! Didn’t do nothin’ wrong, just let me be… I swear I won’t tell, just don’t hurt me no more…” The shout faded into a feeble whimper.

Jarrod leaned over Heath, mindful of the broken ribs, but effectively pinning him to the bed. From the trapped look in his eyes, Jarrod had a feeling Heath wasn’t in the here and now and he knew he didn’t ever want to be where the other man was at that moment. He regretted the agony they were causing and murmured reassuringly, “It’s all right, Heath, you’re safe. You’re at the Barkley Ranch and the doc’s just fixing you up after you were almost trampled. It’s okay, Heath, you’re okay,” he repeated soothingly until the wild look faded from the blue eyes and the other man lapsed back into unconsciousness. Jarrod released his hold, sighing in relief.

Dr. Merar felt around the shoulder. “Seems like everything’s where it should be.” He got up and went back to his bag. “Jarrod, if you can sit him up a bit, I’ll wrap those ribs. That’ll be the last I can do and then we’ll just have to let time do its work.”

Jarrod inhaled sharply as he lifted Heath to brace him against his own shoulder. Crisscrossing the blond’s back were a web of old, fine scars, overlaid with the more livid marks of injuries improperly healed. The only time he’d seen injuries like that… Jarrod shuddered. He didn’t want to think of the horrors that had caused the similar scars he’d encountered before; surely Heath was too young to have endured something like that.

Dr. Merar raised an eyebrow as he, too, noticed the marks while bandaging Heath’s broken ribs. “This body’s seen a lot of damage,” he commented. “Know anything about him?”

“Not really,” Jarrod admitted. “Duke hired him on a little over a week ago. Heath told me his mother lives up in Strawberry.”

“Hmmm.” Finished with the ribs, Dr. Merar packed away his supplies. “Make sure he stays put for the next couple days. Like I said, I don’t see any signs of concussion, but you and your brother have hit those hard Barkley heads of yours enough times that you and your mother should know what to look for. Call me if you need to and I’ll be back to check on him tomorrow.”

“Thanks, doc.” Jarrod walked the physician out and said farewell before closing the door behind him. He put his hands in his pockets and sighed, heading into the parlour for a drink before going back upstairs to sit with Heath. He’d just poured himself a scotch when he heard footsteps and turned around to see his mother and little sister enter the room. Quickly setting the glass on the table, Jarrod strode over and swept Audra into his arms.

“How are you feeling, honey?”

“I’m okay, Jarrod,” Audra reassured him. “Is Mr. Thomson all right? He saved my life and I want to tell him how grateful I am.”

“He’s a little banged up,” Jarrod told her, kissing the top of her blonde head, “and he’s upstairs sleeping right now. But I’ll let you know when he’s ready for a visitor, okay?”

“Okay.” Audra hugged him tightly. “I’m sorry for scaring you, Jarrod.”

Jarrod took her face between his hands and detected a glint of tears in her eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you, princess. Promise you’ll be more careful?”

Audra nodded fervently. “I promise.” She turned to her mother. “May I go upstairs and read for a bit, Mother?”

“Of course, dear.”

Audra gave both of them a bright, dimpled smile and dashed up the stairs.

“And how is the young man?” Victoria asked of her dark-haired son.

Jarrod picked up his glass and took another drink. “Dr. Merar thinks he’ll be all right with time. A dislocated shoulder and a few broken ribs, but he doesn’t think there’s a concussion. I’m just going to grab some paperwork and sit with him for a bit.”

“Oh, I can do that, Jarrod,” Victoria told him, placing a hand on his arm.

Jarrod smiled as he gave his mother a kiss on the cheek. “I’m sure you can, lovely lady, but somehow, I don’t think Heath Thomson is the type to appreciate being mothered by someone not his own mother.”

Victoria sighed. “I suppose you’re right. Just don’t forget to come down and grab some supper. I’ll make sure Silas leaves you a plate.”

Jarrod went into the library, going through the papers on the desk to find the latest figures on Barkley Sierra Mining and any other odds and ends from the vast Barkley empire that needed going over. Accidentally knocking over a small frame, Jarrod reached down to pick it up and froze when he glanced at the picture.

It was a photograph of his parents taken not long after they were married. Tom Barkley was clean-shaven, not yet having the full beard Jarrod always remembered him wearing. His fair hair hadn’t receded and the strength in his youthful face indicated the firm, autocratic man he would become. It was the same face that was on the man who was lying injured in the bed upstairs.

Jarrod almost dropped the photograph, but regained his composure enough to set it gently back on the desk. Those feelings of déjà vu, that he knew Heath without having met him before, suddenly came home to rest. He knew him because Heath Thomson was a dead ringer for Thomas Barkley and resembled the man in a way his legitimate sons did not.

Heath Thomson was his brother.