The Last Journey to Strawberry
“I’ll be home in a few days,” Heath assured his family as he strapped on his gun belt and adjusted his Stetson.
Victoria reached around his waist to give him a hug and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Be safe, son.” Audra likewise gave her brother a squeeze and wished him a good trip with hopes that he would be home soon to help her train the new Appaloosa that had just been added to their string of horses. Jarrod was absent from this farewell, having business in San Francisco and not expected back for another two weeks.
“Now you’re sure you don’t want company?” This question from Nick who reached out and clamped his hand over his younger brother’s shoulder. Nick hated to see his brother make these semi-annual journeys back to the place where as a child and even as a grown man, Heath suffered so much pain and scorn from the ignorant people of that dirty mining camp they called Strawberry. Why even to the only true kin that Heath had left, he would never be anything but a bastard in their eyes. That aunt and uncle of his, Martha and Matt Simmons. They still clung to running the Hotel in that desolate town. Refusing to let go of a dream that died when the mine that populated the town shut down for good years ago. Matt Simmons, no more than a drunk who took refuge in the bottle to hide from his inadequacies and failures. One failure with which he lived with daily was his wife. A self-important woman who blamed her lot in life of living in a dead town on her husband. Her husband who would never be man enough to give her a life she felt she deserved.
“No, I’d rather go on my own,” Heath answered his brother. “Old Hannah, she’d just get flustered if too many people showed up at her door. She’s not getting any younger, Nick. Why, the last time I was there, it took her a bit of time to even recognize me. Like I said, she’s not getting any younger, especially in her mind.”
“Well, alright then,” Nick conceded, walking with Heath out to the stables. “You have a good trip then. I’ll be watching for you at the end of the week.” Nick started to walk away and then abruptly turned back as Heath was mounting his horse. “Heath!”
Heath turned in his saddle to see his fiery-eyed brother standing taut with his fists planted on his hips. “Yeah, Nick?”
“If I don’t see your hide back here by weeks end,” Nick’s voice rose to the level of a threat, “I’ll come lookin’ for you.” He concluded his parting speech in a softer but still serious tone.
Heath knew in his heart that his older brother’s words were no mere lie. He knew Nick felt the need to mother hen it over him. Now while Heath prided himself on being able to take care of himself and get out of various scrapes one way or another, still Nick had been there for him on a number of occasions and for that, Heath was most grateful.
Smiling a little half smile, Heath Barkley tucked the words of his sometimes overly protective brother into the back of his mind. Loosening Charger’s reins, he nudged the horse with his heels and headed off of Barkley land onto the road that would take him to Strawberry and to the woman who had always treated him kindly and helped his mother raise him as though he were her own.
The wind started kicking up about five miles out of town. But then again, it always seemed to be windy in these parts. Squinting his eyes against the gusts, Heath rode on remembering from his youth how his mama was forever after the dust that would sneak in under their door and steal in through the drafty windows of their tiny shack. As he rode into town, he felt his muscles tense. There was suddenly a clenching of his chest. Every time he made this trek, it was always the same. So much pain lived in this place. His hard childhood to scrape at an existence and the names that went with it. They say that names can never hurt you, but Heath knew it wasn’t true. He had been deeply wounded by the labels dished out freely towards himself and his mama. Now entering Strawberry, those old wounds stirred and festered once more.
Only one rider passed the cowboy as he and his horse ambled down through the middle of town. He passed the Hotel turning his face away from its windows, hoping his presence would not be detected by his aunt and uncle. He knew that much of the tension he was feeling right then was in a large part due to them. They had monopolized on his mother’s situation. Hiring her with a claim of goodwill, the wages she earned barely kept her and her son alive. And the ridicule that went with it, Heath often wondered if that, in part with the cancer, had caused his mother’s early death.
Trying to shake off such morose thoughts, Heath moved on down the street. He hadn’t brought a wagon so he’d have to buy his repair supplies at the General Store, which to his relief, was still open, though its sign was so weather-beaten, you could hardly make out the words. That could wait until morning though. Right now he just wanted to get to Hannah’s house while there was some daylight left. He knew old Hannah wouldn’t open the door to the Lord Almighty if it was passed dark. He picked up the pace and rode on through town to the little green cabin that sat lonely and forlorn about a half mile out.
The little property had a small stable in the back. For now though, Heath tied Charger to a tree so that he could graze. He’d bed him down later.
Whistling a little tune, Heath trotted up the gravel path that lead to Hannah’s porch. The first thing he noticed was that there were no lights on in the house. Well, he thought to himself, it’s only dusk. She’s probably laid down to take a nap and hadn’t awoken to notice the darkened house. Taking the two steps to the door in one, Heath knocked loudly, remembering that the dear lady was getting more and more hard of hearing. When no one answered, he knocked again and called her name. “Hannah? Hannah, ya home? It’s me, Heath.” The only sound he heard was the wind clattering the loose windows of the tiny house. He took a quick look out to the back of the house but he didn’t see the elderly black woman anywhere. Well, he thought to himself, maybe she had a church meeting to go to.
Hannah and Heath’s aunt Rachel had always been very religious, God fearing women. Heath pondered about his aunt Rachel for a moment. She had died in what his Aunt Martha and uncle Matt had claimed was an accident in an old mine shaft. He knew it was no accident but proving what really happened was next to impossibility. He knew his aunt and uncle had caused her death, but the people of Strawberry were afraid of the Simmons’ and because of that fear, the truth had never been revealed. As a result, things continued on just as they had for years. The Simmons’ continued to run the old hotel and rule over most of the folks in Strawberry who had no other place to go. They had nowhere to escape.
Going up to the house again, Heath knocked on the door once more and called out. On a whim, he turned the knob and was surprised that it turned, opening the door. That’s funny, he thought. Hannah, no matter if she was only in the back, always locked her door. She was almost superstitious about it. The door was ALWAYS locked if she was not in the house.
“Hannah? Are ya here?” Heath smelled the air. Musty with a hint of mildew. It smelled like the house had been closed up for who knows how long. Lighting a lamp, Heath carefully walked through the three rooms of the small cottage looking for something, though he had no clue what it was he was looking for. Some sign that she had been here recently for starters. As he neared the kitchen, the mildew smell became stronger. It was soon apparent where the sour smell was coming from. There on the kitchen table was Hannah’s old washtub. There were still clothes in the fusty water. A band of worry bordering on panic began to grip Heath’s chest. Hannah would never just leave a load of clothes to ferment like this. Something here was not right. “Hannah?” Heath raced to the small closet-like bedroom and flung open the door.
The room was stark and empty. Like the rest of the house, a layer of fine dust had settled over the furniture. Heath touched the quilt covering Hannah’s bed. It was gritty with fine dirt that had blown in through a cracked window. Heath’s heart sank. It looked like Hannah hadn’t been here for a long time.
Heath felt sick with dread. By this time it had darkened into night. Too dark to look around outside. He could ride into town to get some answers tonight but swiftly concluded that this would be both unwise and unsafe. No street lamps for one, and the fact that he was not exactly welcome there by the influential pair who reluctantly claimed him as their kin. Heath realized his extended search would have to wait until daylight.
Taking the lantern that hung outside the front door, Heath lit it and went out to where Charger was tied. He led him to the small stable. It wasn’t much but at least the horse would have a roof over his head for the night. Heath found a bucket with his dim light and pumped water for Charger to drink. Taking a brush he kept in his saddlebag, Heath stood by his horse and brushed the day’s dust off of Charger’s massive body. All the time, he was trying to reason out what had happened to Hannah. Dark thoughts crowded into his mind again and again. Foul play was a work here; he had all but convinced himself. But how? Why? Who? Well, the who may be the easiest question to answer, he rationalized. No one would dare hurt Hannah or ever want to except for, Heath clenched the brush until his knuckles whitened, his uncle Matt or more precise, his aunt Martha. But WHY? Why? His mind screamed for answers. Shaking his head, Heath admonished himself. Get a hold of yourself, Heath. You don’t know that they had anything to do with her disappearance. Loosening his grip on the brush, he continued to try to talk himself out of the morbid path his mind was wandering to. There HAD to be an explanation. Things will look better in the light of day, he tried to convince himself.
“There ya go, boy. You’ve gotta feel better now with some of those layers of trail dust off of ya.” Charger nuzzled gently against Heath’s chest and nickered in agreement.
The lantern felt heavy in his hand as Heath walked back to the house taking his bedroll with him. His heart felt even heavier. Heath set up his sleeping quarters on Hannah’s front room floor. He didn’t have the heart to disturb her bed. He felt it would be very wrong if he slept there while she…. He squeezed his eyes shut to crowd out the bleak images that came to mind. While she was…away.
Though he was bone tired after his day’s ride, sleep was elusive for Heath as his mind continued to race in a million different directions. Maybe she went on a trip. No, that wouldn’t explain why her house was unlocked and the clothes were left to mold. Had she fallen out back and wasn’t able to get help? It took all of his convincing himself not to jump up and start searching around out back of the house, knowing it would be futile on account of the dark moonless night. It would simply have to wait until morning. Tossing and turning, Heath managed to snatch a few hours of fitful sleep before the first rays of dawn peeked through the panes of the eastward window.
Heath rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling. The mysterious whereabouts of Hannah immediately flooded his thoughts. The back of the house! Gotta get up and check NOW. Hurrying, Heath stood up to investigate the property in back of the small cabin. Holding his hands to the small of his back, he stretched feeling the effects of sleeping on the hard floor.
The grass was overgrown, brown and tangled. Heath gingerly stepped through it looking for the dear lady who had helped his mama raise him so many years ago. The search was futile. After about an hour with nothing to show for his efforts, Heath again entered the house as confused and disturbed as when he went out. Where was she? What had happened to her?
Pangs of hunger began to gnaw at his belly. With some trepidation, Heath began to search through Hannah’s kitchen in search of some sustenance. Soon a coffee pot was located along with the coffee to go with it. Unfortunately, the icebox held only spoiled findings of bacon and old eggs but the cupboard held more promising pickings of beans and a can of stew. Soon Heath had the old cook stove lit and the coffee and beans gently rumbling to a boil.
With his stomach now satisfied, Heath was ready to carry on with the seemingly grim task of locating the whereabouts of Hannah. Leading Charger from his overnight shelter, Heath had him saddled and ready to ride in record time. Mounting the horse, Heath cringed a little at the thought of having to go into town. He knew that he would again have to face his aunt and uncle. The people who didn’t ever want to see him again. The people who knew that he knew the truth about Rachel and might be able to expose them. The people who didn’t care if he lived or died. And he knew that with their influence over the townspeople they’d stop at nothing to see that he was properly… er, taken care of, if necessary.
Heath involuntarily tensed as he prepared to walk into the Hotel still ran by his Aunt and Uncle. Opening the door, he noticed that the lobby was empty. There was a tattered lace curtain hanging from a long narrow window blowing inward as the wind controlled its every flowing movement. “Anyone here?” Heath called out. Without exerting any effort, Heath found himself damp with sweat. “Be right with you,” called a voice with a hint of harshness from a back room. She soon appeared before his eyes. He found himself holding his breath, though he had not commanded his lungs to do so. “Yes? Can I help……..WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” The words hissed from her mouth.
“Aunt Martha. Good to see ya. I was just passin’ through. Have ya been well? Uncle Matt in the back? Hope business has been good to you.” Heath knew he was starting to babble on. It’s just that at the sight of this woman, his blood chilled and the prattle proceeded without him able to control it.
“You’re not welcome here Heath Barkley or whatever you call yourself now.” Again the words seemed to SSSSSSSS from the woman’s mouth like a snake about ready to strike.
“Well, the truth of the matter is, I,” Heath cleared his throat and tried to concentrate on unclenching his fists. “The truth of the matter is I came to see Hannah. I’ve been to her house. She’s not there,” he said matter-of-factly. “You wouldn’t know where I could find her now would ya?”
“Now why would I know where that old woman is keeping herself,” Martha spit back with contempt. “I’m certainly not her keeper. Now I’ll tell you once and once only you bastard. You’d just better ride right out of here right now, ya hear me? Right now. Your kind isn’t welcome here. I’m warning you get out right now or…”
“Martha? Who’s out there? Do we have a customer?” Matt Simmons walked out behind a partition and into the lobby. He had aged considerably since the last time Heath had seen him. He seemed to have some difficulty walking and his words were slightly slurred. His bloodshot eyes widened at the sight of his nephew.
“Heath? What are ya doin’ here, boy? Ya ought not to be here. Yer not welcome. Ya have no business here. No business at all.”
“Nice to see you too, Uncle Matt. I’ll be brief, seein’s that I’m not so wholly welcome here. I’ve come to ask about,” He was cut off by Martha’s snarl. “He’s come here, Matt, to ask about Hannah. The boy thinks we’ve done the old senile lady harm.”
“Now I never said that you had harmed her,” Heath protested. “I came here simply asking regarding her whereabouts. I went to her house last night. You KNOW that I come here about once a year to do some fix-it jobs for her. Anyway, I got there and she was gone. It looks to me like she’s been gone a long time.”
“And YOU think that WE had something to do with her being gone, isn’t that so?” Martha snapped.
“I only came here to find some answers to her whereabouts,” Heath answered through clenched teeth. “I intend to find her with or without your help.” With that, he turned away from the lobby desk and made his way to the front door.
Martha took the opportunity to goad him once more. “You don’t fool me with that goody goody talk about wanting her found unharmed. You’re blaming us for her disappearance. You think you can pull the wool over ol’ Aunt Martha’s eyes, but you’re WRONG boy. We can’t have you nosing around getting into trouble now, can we? We can’t have you getting the townsfolk here all in an uproar besmirching my good name because of that batty ol’ woman who don’t even know her own name most of the time. She’s wondered off, that’s what I say happened. She’s wandered off and…”
Heath whirled around, his eyes full of anger. “And what, Aunt Martha? Did she just wander off and just accidentally tumble into a mine shaft like Rachel did?” He almost regretted his outburst but the thought was so close to the surface it just poured out. Maybe he was glad after all that what he really wanted to say was out in the open.
“Rachel’s fall was an accident,” Matt spoke up defensively. “It was an accident.”
“Yeah. So I’ve heard,” Heath replied with a clenched jaw. “Well, I plan on finding Hannah one way or another. With or without your help. You can’t stop me, so you’d better just stay out of my way, y’hear?” Heath turned again to hurry out of the Hotel before his anger got the best of him. He reached the door and was turning the knob when he heard the unmistakable click of a gun being cocked. Heath froze.
“You’ll go NOWHERE. Oh, you think you’re so high and mighty with that fancy name you claim but I’ve got news for you. YOU ARE A NOBODY. You were a Nobody then and you will ALWAYS be a Nobody. And now I’m going to make very sure that you don’t go around upsetting this town with your high and mighty claim of goodwill towards a worthless slave woman. You shouldn’t have ever come here, my dear nephew and now I’m going to make sure you don’t leave here to spread your lies about how you’d paint your Aunt Martha to be guilty of murder. We just can’t have that now, can we?”
“Martha, don’t! We’ll never get away with keeping him here.”
“Shut up, Matt! Heath dear, this gun is loaded and I know how to use it. Now very slowly, drop your gun belt and kick it away from you.”
Heath was still in shock that his aunt would stoop this low. He hesitated.
“DO IT NOW!”
Heath still in disbelief that his aunt had gone this far over the edge slowly reached down and unbuckled his gun belt and let it drop.
“Kick it over here,” Martha commanded. “Matt, go next door to the saloon and get Wiley and Jace. I’ll hold him here until you get back. Hurry up now.”
“But Martha.”
“You do as I say Matt. This time I’m gonna teach this bastard good and not YOU or anyone else is going to stop me. Go NOW!”
Matt looked at Heath before he shuffled out of the Hotel almost stumbling over a rough spot in the rug. The boy should have never come here. Matt knew that Martha would get whatever she wanted and that he wasn’t strong enough to fight her. Their relationship as loving husband and wife had died a lifetime ago. Now it was more of a marriage of convenience. She bossed the town and mostly kept the Hotel going while he was allowed to stay in the background and numb his bleak life with heavy drink. Matt didn’t have backbone enough to change his situation so he dealt with it the best he knew how. He simply drank until he was too numb to care.
Martha kept her gun trained on Heath while Matt went to get the two men she wanted.
She knew better than to get close to her nephew whom she knew to be a good shot and quick on his feet. He had shot her henchman Phelps those years ago when she had planned to defraud Victoria Barkley, who had come to town to snoop about the origins of Leah Thomson and Tom Barkley’s relationship. It was Heath who had ruined her plan then and more than that, he had his suspicions about Rachel. She wasn’t about to let him get a second chance to gather more information about the death of Rachel Caulfield. And that’s just what he would do if he were to be in association with Hannah for any amount of time.
Hannah liked to talk. That old woman would talk about anything but mostly old memories. The problem was, she’d talk about the first memory that popped into her head. Now Rachel’s death was a big shock to her so that memory figured to be thought on often by the old washerwoman. It would be a natural thing that it would be her favorite topic for conversation.
While still watching Heath, Martha grimaced as she thought back to the time of Rachel’s death. It was supposed to look like an accident and no one was going to be a witness. It was all planned out. Rachel wouldn’t do Martha’s bidding of cheating the townsfolk out of what little they made to keep alive, so in Martha’s mind, she simply had to be done away with. An accident down at the mine. The story they’d tell was that they’d taken Rachel on an outing and she somehow wandered away and fell through some rotted boards into the shaft. Of course Matt didn’t want to be a party to her death, but Martha knew how to get him to do what she wanted. She always got him to do what she wanted in the end. The plan was perfect and was executed just as planned. Trouble was, she didn’t count on Hannah. Hannah had been down by the mine sitting under a tree by a stream reading her Bible. She had seen three people go into the old mine but only two came out. She knew! She knew! Martha laughed to herself, still holding the gun steady on Heath. She found it so easy to keep Hannah quiet. All she had to tell the old woman was that she would see the same fate if she dared breathe a word of what she knew to anyone. And it had worked too. Hannah lived in fear of Matt and Martha for a long time after that. However, as she aged and her mind became more addled, Hannah began to talk of that day. Not in a straightforward way, mind you, but in bits and pieces. She’d be singing one minute and the next she’d be gabbing on about someone falling. A deep hole. Someone got pushed. No, she couldn’t remember who fell into the hole. From one day to another, little bits of the story were being exposed. Some days Hannah couldn’t remember if someone was pushed into the hole or fell. Some days she couldn’t remember if it was Rachel or somebody from town who had died. It was all a jumble. Martha became more desperate and feared that one day Hannah would tell the story to someone who would listen to all of its parts. She made up her mind that she wouldn’t let that happen. Hannah would not live to tell the whole story.
**********
The sun was beating down on the men as they worked in the heat to round up stray cattle that had busted down areas of fence to get to the thicker grass on the other side. Nick, who could be hotheaded on any given day, seemed especially volatile today. The men worked hard to show their worth and to not bring the wrath of their boss upon themselves. The truth of the matter was Nick was feeling restless. No more than restless. Something just didn’t feel right but he couldn’t put a finger on it. To compensate for his feelings, he barked orders louder and rode his crew with an even tighter rein than usual. Dave Donnelly, his foreman silently watched Nick’s actions throughout the early day. By late morning when Nick had pretty much picked up the same sour attitude that he’d carried through those first working hours, Dave had seen enough and rode over to where Nick was berating a group of men in their handling of a captured calf. Dismounting, Dave strode over to where Nick was bawling out the men. “I told you men to stay this side of the line. Now when I give an order, I expect it to be carried out! Ya got that? We do this MY way or you can pick up your pay right now, you hear me?”
“But Nick, it was just one calf and…”
I SAID we round ‘em up MY way. That calf was fine where it was for now. We do this systematically. MY system. That means moving east to west, you hear me? You rode out of bounds and I don’t cotton to that. You work by my rules or…” Nick stopped his tirade and ran his hand through his hair. He knew he was getting overly heated up about a situation where no harm was done but he just couldn’t seem to put a lid on his displeasure. Dave watched the scene unfold before him. He took his queue when Nick stopped in mid-sentence seemingly trying to regain his cool. “Uh, Nick. Can I have a word?” Nick scowled down at his foreman from his mount.
“Yeah? What is it?”
“Alone Nick and eye to eye.”
Wheeling Coco around to face the men who had just been the target for his temper, Nick dismissed them with a lesser growl and than turned his attention to his foreman.
“Well?”
“I said eye to eye, Nick. If you’ll step down here level to me.” While most of the men in the Barkley’s employ tended to skirt around Nick, fearful of his bite, Dave had no fear. He’d known Nick for a long time and knew him to be a fair man who really rarely bit. Just barked loudly. He also knew when his boss and friend was troubled. He could always read it in the big man’s eyes and he was seeing that troubled look now.
Nick sighed loudly and climbed out of his saddle to face Dave. “Now what’s this all about?”
“It’s about you, Nick,” Dave stated in an even voice. “You’re, you’re, well, you’re not yourself today. Bossing the men is one thing, and without a doubt, you do that well but riding them like you have this morning, frankly that’s uncalled for. You’ll lose good men with that mouth of yours if you don’t draw in your horns. You’re not dealing with boys here. They are men, and men have pride. Just wantin’ ya to settle it down a little that’s all.”
Nick looked away at first not wanting to admit that he was anywhere close to being in the wrong but deep down, he knew Dave was right. He’d been feeling jumpier than a weasel waiting for its chicken dinner all day and didn’t know why.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Nick admitted in a gruff, turning to face Dave again. “I just wish Heath were here to ride with me and help out.” There! He’d said it. Heath. That’s what had been troubling him. But why? It had only been three days since his brother had left for Strawberry. “I’ll, uh, try to take it a little easier on the men, Dave. It’s pert near noon. Why don’t ya stop the men and let them and yourself get a bite to eat? I’ll meet back up with you in say an hour?”
“You bet, Nick.” Walking back to his horse, Dave stopped and turned as Nick was saddling up again. “And Nick?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
The cowboy clad in black tipped his hat towards his friend. Turning Coco around, he headed for his favorite thinking place down by the little waterfall that dropped into a lazy flowing stream on the North Ridge.
**********
The door crashed open and Heath’s mouth suddenly felt cotton dry as the men called Wiley and Jace sauntered into the lobby of the Hotel. They weren’t men, they were walking mountains! Both men were well over 6’7”, Heath guessed. “Zis him, Martha?” In seemingly two strides, Wiley and Jace stood on each side of Heath. Their mammoth hands roughly reached for and grabbed the blond cowboy’s upper arms locking their grip like a tightened vice. Heath winced in pain but stood firm.
“Aunt Martha, why?”
Martha just laughed in scorn and said nothing.
“Where do ya wannus to take him, Martha?” Wiley asked in a rather high-pitched whiny voice. The size of the voice oddly did not fit the size of the man. Matt scurried in just then and retreated behind the counter and into the office.
“Take him to the cellar. Make sure he stays real quiet. And use your gun if you have to. I don’t want him getting away and I don’t want him raising a ruckus. Go!”
“Come on you,” ordered Jace. His voice was deep and gruff with a derisive quality to it. “You’ll be coming with us. We’re gonna take reeeeeal goooood care of you, boy.”
Jerking Heath forward, Jace purposely kicked him behind his knees causing him to topple. “Ah, whassamatter boy? Cain’t ya walk none without someone to hold yer hand?” Heath struggled to stand up, the back of his knees smarting when Jace used his pointed toed boot to give Heath a sharp kick in his stomach. Heath crumpled to the floor having the wind knocked out of him. Martha stood behind the lobby counter with a small smirk playing on her lips.
“That’ll be enough boys for now. Just get him down to the cellar. Make sure you tie him good so he doesn’t get any notions to escape.”
“Okay Martha,” Wiley replied in a kind of sing songy way and then added with a sneer, “We’ll make sure he doesn’t even get one little notion of leaving. After all, this is a fine bit of hospitality you’re giving to one born on the wrong side of the blanket.”
The two men laughed loudly with glee and the effects of too much drink. Heath was still trying to catch his breath when he was jerked to his feet and half walked and half dragged to the cellar located under the hotel building.
“Git in there, you bastard,” said Jace as both men hustled Heath down the stairs. They shoved him with such force at the fourth step from the bottom that it caused the normally sure footed cowboy to trip and plummet down the remainder of the steps, smacking the side of his head on the hard dirt floor. Heath’s vision was starting to cloud and a powerful sharp pain sliced through his head. He could feel a rivulet of blood marching down his face. “Git up! Git up!” Heath felt another kick from the sharp boot to his gut. He tried to cry out a protest but the only sound that came from his throat was a low guttural groan.
He felt himself being grasped by his hair and pulled to a standing position. He gritted his teeth with every bit of strength he could summon so as not to collapse. He was brutally shoved toward a beam in the middle of the dank and dark room. The weight on his upper body was almost unbearable as Heath was forced to a sitting position. Wiley and Jace pulled his arms roughly behind him and Heath felt their rope slice cruelly around his wrists. Next his feet were bound and then they were gone. Heath’s head slumped forward as the pain in his head and ribs won out and everything went dark.
He didn’t know how long he’d been out when he slowly came up to consciousness. He was aware that the room was spinning. Nausea quickly overcame him. He was able to swivel his body just enough so that the putrid contents of his stomach missed him and landed on the dirt floor instead. Gagging, Heath gulped for air. Fearing that he might choke, he tried hard to regulate his breathing and finally found himself not gasping. It took longer for his heart to stop racing. His mouth tasted vile and dry. He needed water badly.
As he sat quiet licking his dry lips while his head still pounded, his other senses kicked in. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see that his surroundings were familiar. A great room with stone walls. Small windows sat on top of the walls on two sides of the room. He’d been down here before. He remembered with anguish, as a little boy, his Uncle Matt would bring him to this cellar as a punishment. He would make him stay down here for hours at a time in the dark. Uncle Matt used to laugh at him because the little boy was afraid of the dark and would scream terrified when left alone here.
Heath thought about his family. His mind seemed to train on Nick. “If I don’t see your hide back here by weeks end,” he remembered him saying. ““I’ll come lookin’ for you.”
Boy howdy Nick, I sure could use you now. “Nick, please come,” he whispered through cracked lips.
Heath inhaled trying to clear his head. The smell was the musty smell of dampness, vomit and rodent droppings. His ears were ringing loudly but he thought he could make out the sound of water dripping. And there was something else he thought he heard. Singing. He was sure he could hear someone singing.
**********
Heath! Why couldn’t he get that boy out of his mind, Nick wondered sitting on a boulder watching the stream scuttle by. He listened to the water as it cascaded from the small waterfall. He listened as the churning waters bubbled and gurgled creating a path that would carry it rushing to its next home, the Sacramento River. Nick suddenly cocked his brow and froze. He heard more than the water gushing and dancing its way down stream. He tilted his head and listened. He heard his brother’s voice. Heath’s voice. Calling him. Calling him to come help. There it was in the rushing stream. That familiar voice with that soft yet insistent drawl. Nick I need you, it called through the water. Please come. Please help me.
**********
He must have drifted off again because when his eyes opened, Heath noticed it was almost completely dark. The light that had filtered in from the tiny windows had turned to thin threads as the gaslights went on in the town and the day went from evening to night. His head was throbbing like the dickens and he felt like he’d been kicked in the ribs by a mule. The dry sour taste from being sick earlier still coated his mouth. Heath tried to bring up enough saliva to rid him of that awful taste but his efforts proved to be futile. His mouth was just too dry. The rope that bound him was cutting and burning into his flesh. At least the ringing had subsided in his ears. Concentrating the best he could under the present circumstances, he tried to listen. Silence. The sound of water he thought he’d heard earlier was gone. And the sound of singing, that was gone too. Maybe he had dreamed it, he thought to himself. Maybe he hadn’t heard any of those sounds at all. Maybe.
**********
Like a man possessed, Nick rode Coco hard back to the ranch. Bringing the horse to a sharp halt, he leapt out of the saddle, stormed into the house and pounded up the stairs, spurs jangling. The slam of the door had brought Victoria rushing from another part of the house into the foyer. She just saw a flash of Nick as he dashed down the hallway and into his room.
“Nick?” Victoria called to her son, curious as to his all fired hurry. Traveling up the stairs with her skirt swishing, Victoria strode with purpose down the hallway until she stood in front of Nick’s bedroom door. She knocked and called out. “Nick?” She could hear drawers being opened and slammed shut again. She called out, this time with authority. “Nicholas Barkley, you open this door right now!”
At that moment, the door opened. Immediately she knew something was going on. “Oh! Hello mother.” Nick stood in front of the open door with his hand gripped on the knob but was not forthcoming with an invitation to enter. Victoria tried to look around her tall son. She caught glimpse of his saddlebag and a bedroll. A couple of shirts had been tossed carelessly on the bed.
“Nick, what is this all about? You come charging in like the barn’s on fire and then you barricade yourself in your room. Now I see,” she swiped by him and planted herself in the room. “That you look like you’re about to go on a journey and I know nothing about it. Were you planning on telling your family your plans or were you just going to sneak off without us knowing where you’d be?”
“Mother,” he wrapped his big hands gently over her dainty shoulders. “Of course I wouldn’t just leave without telling you. It’s just that,” he drifted off as his facial features took on a strange worried look.
“It’s just what? Something’s wrong, isn’t it? What is it Nick. Tell me. Is it Jarrod? Audra? He, Heath! Did something happen to Heath?” Victoria always felt apprehensive when Heath chose to make these semi-annual trips to Strawberry but she always put on a brave face and never meddled knowing he was trying to stay connected with the only family he had growing up.
“Now mother, nothing’s wrong,” he tried to say convincingly. “I haven’t heard anything.”
Victoria relaxed a little but then inquired, “Then where are you going?”
How could he begin to explain to her his strange feelings down by the stream? How could he tell her that he had heard his brother calling for him through the rushing water? How could he make her see that he had to go to Strawberry? He had to go find Heath.
“Well, I just thought I’d take a ride out Strawberry way and meet Heath. He’ll probably be ready to head back home by the time I get there. I just thought he’d want some company is all. ‘Sides, that boy is way too quiet. He needs me there to get him talkin’. Exercise those vocal cords.”
“But what about the ranch?”
“Don’t worry mother. I’ll only be gone no more than three days. I’ll have Dave assign the men until me and Heath get back.”
“Well Nick, you do what you have to do. The work will get done, I’m sure of it.” Smiling up at her middle son, she wrapped her arms around his waist. I’ll see both of you in a few days.” She knew Nick held special feelings for his youngest brother. She also knew that Nick had some kind of inside intuition when it came to Heath. On more than one occasion when Heath was in trouble, Nick had sensed it, though he was not with Heath at the time, and had gone out of his way to aid his brother. Victoria leaned into Nick’s chest. He didn’t hear her softly whisper, “bring him home.”
By the time Nick came back downstairs with his saddlebag slung over his shoulder and his bedroll tucked under his arm, Victoria had summoned Silas who had put together a food pouch for Nick’s trip.
“Now Nick, I don’t want you riding at night. Promise me you’ll stop someplace to camp before it gets too dark instead of riding the whole way.” His mother’s words came as a statement, almost a command. It was not a request and Nick knew it.
“I promise mother,” he assured her. Dropping his saddle bag and bedroll on the foyer floor, he took his mother’s face into his large calloused hands and kissed her tenderly on the cheek. He already had his gun belt on from coming in earlier. Plucking his hat from the table where he’d left it when he had made his hurried sprint upstairs, Nick picked up his gear once more and walked towards the door. Turning, he smiled a bright smile for his mother’s benefit. “I’ll, er, WE’LL be home in a few days.”
In truth, Nick didn’t feel like smiling. A lump had settled in his gut. Somehow he knew he wasn’t going to just ride into Strawberry, meet Heath and ride home together. Something had happened to the boy. His gut told him so. Nick knew that Heath’s aunt and uncle despised him. They had always despised him choosing to believe that somehow a child should be made to pay along with his parent for a gross sin. In Heath’s case the fact that the boy had no father to speak of and Leah his mother had no husband. Coupled with the fact that they still resented Heath for insinuating that they had anything to do with Heath’s aunt Rachel’s death. Nothing had been proved there. Heck, there wasn’t even enough evidence for a trial, so they had gone virtually unjudged. Still they held Heath responsible for bringing down their good name and vowed he would pay someday.
Nick spurred Coco on, hoping to get a large chunk of distance behind him before night fell. It was almost dark when he finally reined in Coco to a trot and scouted out a suitable place to build a fire and put down his bedroll. He figured he was about fifteen miles from Strawberry. He’d be there by mid morning.
**********
Squeezing his eyes shut, Heath tried to block out the pain that his head was causing him. He wondered if he had suffered a concussion. Mentally he ticked off facts about himself that had he been home and received a head injury, his family would have been waking him every hour to recite. What’s your name? Heath Barkley. Where do you live? The Barkley Ranch in Stockton, California. What are the names of your family members? Mother, Victoria. My mama, my birth mama, Leah. My sister Audra and brothers Jarrod and Nick. Nick. Heath’s mind stopped his litany when he thought of his brother. Licking his dry lips, he whispered, “Do ya know I’m in trouble, Nick? Do ya? Need ya here, brother. Need ya bad.”
The clattering and subsequent squeak of the cellar door being opened startled him and caused a shudder to pass through Heath’s body that chilled him to the bone. He knew he was vulnerable being tied the way he was. It wouldn’t do him any good to be belligerent to his captors in any way. “Stay calm Heath,” he kept telling himself over and over. Heavy steps down the stairway told Heath it was one of the men who had thrown him down here in the first place. The loud footsteps seemed to thud right through Heath’s head.
He saw the wildly out of proportioned shadow of a man as the light from Wiley’s lantern bounced down the stairs casting the form of his bulk onto the wall. Heath involuntarily tensed, awaiting the outcome of this visit realizing that he was not being paid a social call.
“Well, well! Looky what we got here,” Wiley grinned down with malice at Heath as he leaned his massive frame in to tower over him. “What happened to yer face there, cowboy? Did ya fall down and hurt yerself?” Heath clenched his jaw and turned his head to look away from the man. “Now don’t you turn away from me when I’s talkin’ to you, boy.” With that, a swift kick was delivered to Heath’s knee causing him to gasp and bite down on his lower lip to keep from crying out. “Now,” Wiley sneered, glaring down at his helpless victim. “You and me, we is gonna be friends. Yessiree. Good friends.” Wiley laughed maniacally as he slowly walked a circle around the beam where Heath was tied. “Oh! ‘Bout forgot. Brought ya somethin’.” Wiley produced a canteen out from under his coat and dangled it in front of Heath’s face. Heath licked his parched lips. He was so thirsty.
“Thirsty. Need drink,” Heath croaked.
“Oh are ya now boy? Are ya? Boy, you don’t look so high and mighty now do ya? See? That fancy name of yourn ain’t worth nothin’ when it come right down to the necessities of livin’. Now ya see, I’ve got the canteen and I can let you have a little sip only if I see fit. Now you and me, we’s gonna have lots of fun together and if you play nice, you’ll git a little of this water here, see?” Wiley’s sour breath wafted up Heath’s nostrils as the big man leaned over him and let out a high pitch giggle, rubbing his hands together in sadistic delight.
“Now let’s hear you say ‘pretty please’ for this here water.” Heath again turned away from his tormentor. “What did I tell you boy about turning away from me?” Another sharp steel-toed kick hit its target of Heath’s shin. This time Heath couldn’t hold back the yelp of pain that escaped from his mouth. “Say ‘pretty please.’” Heath cringed at the whiny way Wiley’s order was issued. He also realized he had no option but to comply. He needed that water and was simply not in the position to let pride have its day here. Narrowing his eyes to a glare and clenching his teeth, Heath spit out a hoarse “pretty please.”
“See? That warn’t so hard now was it? And see? I’m a man of my word. You get to have a little drink.” Unscrewing the lid, Wiley reached out and grabbed Heath’s hair tilting his head back in an exaggerated angle forcing his jaws open. The water poured out of the canteen into the cowboy’s open mouth with such volume that Heath couldn’t swallow fast enough and started to choke. Of course this amused Wiley to no end and so he cruelly continued to pour the contents of the canteen down Heath’s throat reveling in the gasping and sputtering as Heath tried to bring air into his lungs around the water. Finally the canteen was empty and somewhere in a haze of trying to breathe Heath felt the man release him and his chin slammed into his chest. Gagging and coughing and trying to suck air into his lungs, Heath felt himself getting lightheaded and dizzy. Wiley stepped back and cackled callously over his prisoner’s predicament. Tiny black spots appeared before Heath’s eyes. He could feel himself sinking. Gasping but unable to fight, he let the darkness come. His head slumped to his chest.
Wiley sauntered over and reaching his hand under Heath’s chin, he propped it on his hand momentarily feeling for a pulse. He didn’t want his fun and games to end. Not yet anyway. Satisfied that he felt life within his captive, he was further assured that the boy was still amongst the living when he could see his chest heaving and hear the rattle of his labored breathing.
“Sweet dreams you little mongrel.” Picking up his lantern, Wiley returned to the stairs. As the light drifted up the steps, the cellar was again darkened with only pinprick beads of light coming through the windows above the stone walls.
**********
Nick awoke just as the sky was starting to turn pink. A strange sense of urgency filled him as he scrambled around to light a fire and get some coffee on to boil. He would have rather rode out without the benefit of breakfast, but something told him he needed to eat to keep up his strength. He spat out the last of the coffee and prepared to break camp. He rode on toward the mining camp where Heath was raised by only his mother and two of her dear friends. A place where Heath and his mother were never accepted. Where shame and scorn shadowed them and taunted them by the good upstanding folks of a dying town. Nick crested the last rise at about 10:00 that morning. He could feel the wind smack in his face as he rode the last five miles toward a town nearly deserted.
Squinting into the sun, Nick nudged Coco onward; clip clopping down the middle of town at a slow trot. Nick was alert to everything his eyes took in. The boarded up windows, the faded sign from the General Store, the windblown abandoned appearance of the sheriff’s office and town jail. Wonder how long they’ve had no law around here, Nick mused. Seemed like the only businesses in business were the General Store, the saloon and The Strawberry Hotel.
Unbeknownst to Nick, his ride into town did not go unnoticed. Martha turned from the grimy hotel window with an acid look on her face. “Oh, you won’t find your dear brother here Mr. Barkley,” she seethed “You’ll never find him.”
Riding on down the dusty street, it wasn’t long before Nick was out of town. Turning down yet another lonely lane, he came to the small green cabin where he knew Heath’s friend Hannah James lived. Swinging himself out of the saddle, he dropped to the ground. Still holding onto Coco’s reins, he took a quick visual look about the place. Nick knitted his brows and curled his lip, puzzled. The place looked deserted. Could it be that Hannah didn’t live here anymore? Or maybe she di….. No. Heath would have been back to the ranch or at least wired from the next town if that were the case.
Tying Coco loosely to a tree, Nick decided to scout around the house a bit. After some poking around, he soon came to the same conclusion Heath had when he first arrived. There hadn’t been anyone in this house for a long time.
“Well,” Nick muttered under his breath. “Where the devil is everyone?” Heaving a heavy sigh, Nick untied his horse and mounted back up. There had to be answers somewhere and the place that kept coming to his mind again and again to get the answers he was looking for was The Strawberry Hotel run by Heath’s aunt and uncle. They were the last people he really wanted to rub elbows with since he knew they were a big reason why Heath and his mother lived the way they did, in awful poverty. They were also the ones that were paramount in spreading gossip about Leah and Heath’s father. They seemed to thrive on keeping the town in a tizzy over Matt’s sister’s shameful condition. Nick shook his head. No, he didn’t want to see those people but right now it looked like he didn’t have a choice. He needed answers as to where Hannah was and where Heath was for that matter. Nick’s heart thudded in his chest. It dawned on him that Matt and Martha Simmons may have the answers to his questions but he had a sick feeling that he may not like the answers they would give.
Martha hurried from the window as Nick Barkley rode up and dismounted. Busying herself with a dust cloth, she went about dusting down the lobby furniture, only turning in a nonchalant manner when Nick walked through the door. She gave no hint that she had made his acquaintance in the past and proceeded to greet him as just another potential guest to her lodging establishment.
“Good day sir. Will you be wanting a room, sir?”
Nick was momentarily put off because he knew that she must know who he was. They had met once when Heath, Jarrod and himself had ridden out to inquire about the events leading up to Rachel Caulfield’s death. He remembered that Martha had seemed cold, almost eerily calculating about the whole matter. He also remembered how in the end, there was not found enough evidence to make a conviction stick and that she and her spineless husband were allowed to go free. Nick’s eyes hardened into a glare when he suddenly remembered something else and it chilled him. Martha Simmons had screamed out a threat as the three Barkley brothers rode out of town after the Simmons’ had escaped punishment. She swore that she would get even with them. Get even for the pain and suffering caused by their accusations. Get even for the humiliation that the whole matter had caused her with the townspeople. They would pay, she had promised. The high and mighty Barkleys would pay.
“Uh, Mrs. Simmons? I’m Nick Barkley. Surely you remember me.”
Drawing her mouth into a hard thin line, Martha answered. “Yes Mr. Barkley. What do you want? You’re not welcome here.”
“Well ma’am, what I’d like is a little information.” Nick took his hat off and tossed it onto the counter.
“What kind of information?” The words hissed through Martha’s clenched teeth.
Nick picked up his hat again and twirled it in his fingers.
“I was out at Hannah James’ place. Looked pretty empty out there. You wouldn’t happen to know where I could find her now, would ya? Oh, and funny thing, my brother, your nephew rode out this way a couple of days ago. Now if Hannah had passed, he would have been home by now. Haven’t seen him though. You haven’t seen him have ya?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Martha lied. “I’m not that batty ol’ woman’s keeper and I haven’t seen that half blood nephew of mine since you high and mighty Barkleys rode out of this town two years ago. Not since you couldn’t prove,” she added gloatingly, “that Rachel’s death was nothing more than the accident it was.”
Martha’s reference to Heath’s lineage just about made Nick’s blood boil but he managed to swallow down his desire to clout this most insensitive woman because she was a woman. He would not take any talk like that from a man. When Heath first came to them and after Nick himself had finally realized that Heath was the brother he had always wanted, for that first year, Nick seemed to find himself constantly defending Heath in the matter of his birth. Now all that had died down and Heath was pretty much accepted by most for what he was. He was an honest, likeable, hardworking member of the Barkley family.
It stabbed Nick to hear that old talk come up again but he stifled his want to take care of the matter with his fists and concentrated on why he’d come here in the first place. To find Hannah and Heath.
“Alright Mrs. Simmons. Alright. But let me tell you something,” Nick stated loud and plain. “I’m going to keep looking for my brother and for Miss James. I’m going to keep looking until I find the answers I’m looking for. Do you understand? In the meantime, I will need a place to stay and since this is the only lodging in ten miles, I plan on staying here. I’d like a room please and I don’t want any trouble with it. Do I make myself clear?”
“Oh, you make yourself perfectly clear, Mr. Barkley,” Martha retorted. “And you’ll get your room, I’ll see to that. But let me make myself perfectly clear, Mr. Barkley. You will never find that bastard brother of yours or that half-witted washerwoman he claimed as his kin. I’ll also see to that.” With that, Martha shoved her registration journal in front of Nick and slammed down a room key on the counter. “Now get out of here, Mr. Nick Barkley. I’ve got work to do.”
Heath couldn’t believe it when his weighted eyelids fluttered open to daylight. His chest felt awfully heavy and his breathing was wet and labored. Heath wondered how late it was in the day. He felt so sluggish. He was finding it difficult to keep his eyes open. His head felt like it was in the grip of a vice and his stomach was threatening to revolt again. “Stay awake, Heath,” he kept telling himself. “Gotta think out a plan. Gotta figure out how to get out of here.” Heath tried to relax as he concentrated on his ragged breathing. He tried to cough, hoping to loosen the mucus caught in his lungs. It helped a little but made his head swim so bad that he was forced to squeeze his eyes shut and ride out the feeling of spinning while willing his stomach to remain still.
He cocked his head. He could hear something. Singing. The same kind of singing he had heard last night. It wasn’t a dream, it was real. It was a soft mournful song. Heath grunted as he tried to adjust his position. His hands, arms, legs and feet had long fallen asleep. His movement caused a pins and needles sensation to surge through his limbs. Heath continued to listen over the biting pain, as his extremities awakened. That voice! That voice was familiar. That song! He had heard it before. That was Hannah’s voice and she was singing an old spiritual that he’d heard many times as a little boy! Hannah did love to sing and she did so often. Not just when she was happy but at sad times too or when she was bothered and worried. Heath had long ago learned to read Hannah’s moods by the songs she hummed or sang. He listened again. The song that Hannah was singing was one he would hear when this dear one was distressed or sad. Just hearing his friend who had helped his mama raise him all those years ago caused hope to be revived within the blond cowboy. Still feeling weak and wheezing terribly, Heath felt a new determination to come out of this situation alive. He squirmed to loosen his bonds. His efforts came to no fruition. The ropes stayed tight and would not budge.
Did he dare raise his voice to catch her attention? Though he could not see the elderly woman, he ascertained that she must be behind the door he had spotted at the end of the cellar he sat facing. He had almost forgotten about that door. He didn’t have any idea what the door opened to, though he suspected it contained a little sleeping chamber of sorts. When he was taken down here as a child for being bad, he was forbidden to touch that door. In those days, Heath’s uncle Matt carried quite a presence. The boy wouldn’t dare disobey the man knowing that if he did, it would mean a fierce thrashing in return.
With light coming in from the top windows now, Heath let his eyes rove around the room. Funny how things seem bigger when you’re a child. This room used to seem like an endless monstrous cavern to Heath when he was small.
He had to take a chance. He had to take a chance that the old woman would hear him. She wasn’t being held down here by her own will, he knew that. The door must be locked. Still, if he could get her to hear him, perhaps it would comfort her knowing he was there. Perhaps it would ease her thoughts and give her hope that she would leave this wretched place alive.
Concentrating on listening for the sounds of someone descending the stairs, Heath waited a moment but was soon satisfied when he heard nothing. He tested his voice. He was dismayed that his lung capacity would only allow him to emit a hoarse call not much above a loud whisper.
“Hannah? Hannah, can you hear me? It’s me, Heath.” Heath’s head protested this exertion and caused him to squeeze his eyes shut tight in an effort to stop the wild spinning of the room.
The singing stopped momentarily and Heath tensed with anticipation. Had she heard him? He couldn’t see how that could be so. He just couldn’t seem to fill his lungs enough to project his voice in a volume that would be heard. A brief silence and soon the soft sad song began anew. Heath slumped in defeat. The whole effort had fatigued him terribly. He shut his eyes to rest and to think. He would somehow have to think of some way to get him and Hannah out of this place.
**********
Nick swiped the key off of the counter and turned to walk upstairs. He was starting to rethink the wisdom of his decision to stay here at the hotel. “Might not be too bright, Nick,” he chided himself. Turning the key and opening the door to his room, he looked around. The color of the walls was drab and the pattern on the drapes and bedspread was faded and dull.
Maybe I won’t have to stay here, he tried to convince himself. Just find Heath and the whereabouts of Hannah, then hightail it outta town before it got dark. Well, he reasoned with himself, if that’s gonna happen, I’d better get started looking. But where to start? That was the question. The saloon! Might as well head on over that way and see if I can find out if anyone had seen Heath or knew Hannah.
Nick’s spurs jangled down the stairs and across the lobby as he exited the hotel. Martha looked up from behind the desk as he left. Her eyes filled with hate and her mouth twisted into a scowl. “Let’s just see you try to find that half breed brother of yours. Let’s see if you’ll die looking.”
The saloon was actually doing a brisk business when Nick hit the swinging doors just past noon. A lot of men who had lived here all their lives, working and sweating in the mines and who had lost their dreams, sat at the bar or at tables drowning themselves in liquor. Trying to forget what their lives had become and not bold enough or young enough to start over somewhere else. Nick ambled up to the bar, took a seat and looked around the premises.
“Can I get ya somethin’ mister?”
Nick was a little startled by the bartender’s question. “Huh?” Composing himself, he quickly ordered his drink. “Whiskey.”
“Okay mister. Whiskey it is. Glass or bottle?”
“Uh, better make it a bottle.”
After paying for his bottle, Nick stood up and made his way to a table where a card game was in progress. “Anyone sittin’ here,” he asked the two men playing.
“Nope, mister. If’n you’d be willin’ to share your bottle there, we’d be willin’ to cut you in on a hand or two of this here poker game. You do play poker, dontcha?”
“Oh sure. I play a little,” Nick admitted and then added, “for friendly stakes of course. Now I don’t need to drink this whole bottle by myself, so if you’ll just pass your glasses over, I’d be happy to share. Whose deal is it?”
“Yours mister.”
While Nick shuffled and dealt the cards, the two men filled their glasses. Nick smiled to himself. He’d figured that the best way to get information from these folks was to drink with them. His plan was rolling along so far. The poker game was a bonus. Now Nick Barkley was a pretty fair poker player and could hold his own with the cards. That was unless he was playing with his brother, Heath. Now Heath could whoop just about anyone who dared participate in this game of chance. He could bluff better than anyone Nick knew outside of a professional. Heath had once told him that he had thought of becoming a professional gambler once but he just couldn’t take winning off of men who were often betting their whole weeks pay. “I would be taking food out of women and children’s mouths. I just wouldn’t be able to live with that,” he had stated.
“What’s yer name stranger,” asked one of the men as Nick won the first round with a full house.
“The name’s Nick.” Knowing the name Barkley might not be a popular one here; he stayed with his first name only. “And you,” he asked both gentlemen.
“Name’s Clyde and this here’s my younger brother Hank.”
“Nice meetin’ ya,” Nick replied amiably.
“Where’d ya come from, stranger, er Nick,” the one called Hank asked as he filled his glass for a second round.
“Me? Oh just passin’ through. Gonna look at some horses up Sonora way,” Nick lied. He figured since he didn’t know these gentlemen, they didn’t really need to know the real details of why he’d come to this desolate hell hole.
“Fact is, my brother was gonna meet me here and we were gonna ride out there together.
Can’t figure it out though. He was supposed to be here yesterday but I haven’t seen hide or hair of him. Say,” Nick glanced at each man. “You wouldn’t have happened to have seen my brother, would ya? He’s ‘bout six feet tall, blond sandy hair. Tan hat and probably dark tan pants.”
Both men pondered for a moment and then Clyde spoke up. “Ya know, come to think of it, I do believe I did see a man ride in here fittin’ that description. Was, let’s see, was yesterday mornin’ as I recollect. Hank and I were in the General Store gettin’ some supplies and I just happened to glance out the winder when a stranger, ain’t nobody I knew, rode passed. Didn’t recall ever seein’ him around here, so I stepped outside to see where he was headed.”
Nick couldn’t resist asking, “Do you check out everyone passin’ through that you don’t know?” Nick pictured his town of Stockton. If someone were to watch every stranger entering town and seeing where their business was, it would be a full time job. Busybodies is what they called people like that in Stockton.
“Well, actually Nick,” Clyde answered. “We don’t get too many strangers in these parts. If ya hadn’t noticed, this isn’t what you’d call a jumpin’ place. Having a stranger pass through our main street gets to be a bit of a novelty ‘round here.”
“Yeah, it would at that,” agreed Nick as he momentarily looked toward the street. “Do ya remember if he stopped anywhere?”
“Uh, I don’t know.”
“Wait! I remember!” Hank spoke up. “He got off of his horse and went into the old hotel. You wouldn’t catch me in that place. Not with that ol’ bat, Mrs. Simmons. Something’s just not right with her. Or with her husband neither. They’ve both got a screw loose if ya ask me.
“So Heath, uh, my brother was here and he was at the hotel?”
“Yep, if that man that we saw was your brother,” confirmed Hank.
“Alright. Then she was lying.”
“How’s that,” Clyde asked.
“Martha Simmons lied to me about not seeing Heath. Something just doesn’t seem right to me. Why would she lie about not seeing him unless she had something to do with his disappearance?”
“Well, wouldn’t be the first time that someone come up missin’ in this town,” Hank said almost casually under his breath.
Nick turned and looked sharply at the man. “What do you mean? You’ve had other people just disappear and you think the Simmons’ had something to do with it?”
Hank fidgeted nervously and picked at the dirt on his shirt. “Mister, the Simmons’ all but own this dustbowl of a town. Now we don’t wanna cause trouble cuz we’ve got to…we’ve got to live here. Not that we wouldn’t like to see those Simmons’ get theirs, and lordy knows, they have it comin’. It’s just that they are powerful people here and they have ways of keeping the people in line.”
“Is that a fact?” That question came out like a growl from Nick’s mouth. “Boys, it’s been nice meetin’ ya. I can understand how you feel but I still could use some help in locating my brother. I’m not gonna force you to help but if you change your mind, I’ll be stayin’ here until I find my brother and, HOLD IT!” Nick remembered Hannah. “You boys know Miss Hannah James?”
“Oh yeah! She’s the old black woman that lives in the little green house just outside of town. What about her,” asked Clyde?
“She’s a friend of my brother’s. He was supposed to be staying with her for a few days. She’s missing too.”
Hank whistled low. “Betcha if it is the Simmons’s who are responsible, that they are bein’ held somewhere in that old hotel of theirs. That is if they’re still alive,” he added softly.
Now it was Clyde’s turn to fidget. “Hank, you’d better pipe down. We cain’t get involved. It’s too dangerous.” With that, Clyde pulled on his brother’s arm directing him away from Nick. “Thanks for the drink, mister.” Tugging on Hank once more, Clyde pulled him through the saloon doors and down the street away from the stranger. Away from Nick who rose and was ready to find Heath and possibly Hannah whom he was sure were being kept captive somewhere in that hotel.
**********
Must’ve drifted off again, Heath realized as he again tried hard to pry his heavy lids open. Can’t breathe very well. Feel so hot. Got..gotta get out of here. Thirsty. He remembered Wiley’s method of giving him water and shuddered. He heard Hannah’s voice again through ringing ears. He must try again to call to her. She had to know he was here. Concentrating with all the strength he could muster, Heath called out.
“Hannah! Hannah please he..hear me. It’s Heath.” Biting his lip to dull the pain in his chest caused by his exertion, Heath listened for a response. Silence. The singing stopped like before. Heath closed his eyes. Please! Then he heard that woman’s sweet voice.
“Heath? Dat you? Oh lordy be. My Heath. Dat you Heath?”
Heath exhaled. “Yeeeeees”.
“Heath, I cain’t get outta dis place. I’z locked in. Martha, that bad woman, she put me here. I cain’t get out. You come to get me out, Heath?”
“Hannah, hold on,” Heath called out with a voice just above a whisper. “We’re gonna ge..get outta here. Just ho..hold on.”
Heath’s chest felt like it was on fire and being pressed on with an awful force. His breathing was shallow and wheezy. Drawing his legs up as far they would go, Heath tried leaning into his knees to alleviate some of the pressure off of his chest. Lack of oxygen was making him feel terribly lightheaded. Suddenly he saw a flicker of light on the darkened wall just below the high windows.
Heath’s glazed eyes locked on to the small shaft of light dancing on the wall. It was almost mesmerizing to him. What was causing that sparkle? All of a sudden, it came to him. He was causing that little splinter of light! The sun was reflecting off of his own belt buckle in such a way that the buckle in turn caused the reflection to hit the wall thus making the light that he saw skip around on the wall. Heath tried to pull his fevered thoughts together. If only…if only he could make that flash of light be seen outside of these walls.
**********
Nick edged up to the window looking into the lobby of the hotel. To his relief, Martha and Matt were not in sight. He would start his search in the unoccupied rooms upstairs. Opening the door slowly, Nick slipped into the lobby and quickly ascended the stairs avoiding detection. He looked first down one hallway and then down the other that connected the floor in an L shape. Twelve doors in each wing.
Pulling his colt from its holster, Nick readied himself for a fight. He looked around quickly and then stole down the first hallway to its end. The first door was open and the room appeared to be empty. Nick carefully walked in and after taking an investigative look, walked back out. He looked down at his spurs and scowled. Reaching down to his feet, he deftly removed the spurs and stowed them behind the door of the room he had just departed from. The next room had an open door as well, as did most of the rooms on the wing. Nick made quick work of entering, searching and exiting. He contemplated the two shut doors he’d come to. Taking a deep breath, he stepped up to the first and knocked. No answer. Nick was about to go to the next closed door when he heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. He turned just in time to see two large men coming his way. Nick was quick to cock his gun and stood facing the two men who took up the width of the hallway.
“Now, Mr. Barkley,” Jace said sweetly. “We don’t mean no harm to ya. We were just comin’ up here to sees that ya got settled in is all.”
“I just bet you were,” Nick spat.
“Now just put that gun away, Mr. Barkley and we’ll leave just the same way we came.”
“Where’s my brother? Where’s Heath?”
“Why, does that mutt belong to you, Barkley,” Wiley piped up in a mock astonished voice.
“What have you done to him?” Nick was becoming crazy with fear for Heath.
“Oh, he’s, um, resting.”
“Where is he? I swear if you’ve hurt him, I’ll…”
“Whatcha gonna do, cowboy? Beat us up?” Wiley chuckled and looked over at Jace. “Mr. Barkley here wouldn’t be so rough and tough iffen he wasn’t holdin’ that thar shootin’ arn.”
“I’d have to say I agree with ya on that point,” Jace said. “Hows abouts you and me, we make this more of a fair fight?”
“Sounds like a winner to me, buddy.”
Before Nick could blink an eye, his gun was spun out of his hand and his jaw connected with a meaty fist. Nick kicked out and landed a boot into Wiley’s stomach, but he couldn’t keep Jace from reaching from behind him, trapping his arms. Wiley took advantage of Nick’s capture and pummeled the dark haired cowboy’s ribs until Nick sunk to the ground in a heap.
“That oughta show him that Barkleys aint’ ‘zactly welcome ‘round here, don’t ya think Wiley?”
Wiley tittered and replied, “Yep buddy. That oughta learn him reeeeeeal good.”
Nick’s eyes opened wide as he surfaced to consciousness. The pain from his kicked ribs made him moan out loud. Sharp twinges smarted with every breath he took. “Augh.” Being careful not to cause anymore hurt to himself, Nick slowly rolled onto his back. He pondered the ceiling as he gathered the needed energy to pick himself up off of the floor. He felt like he’d been run over by a herd of stampeding cattle. With great care, Nick started to sit up but the ache from his ribs forced him to surrender to the hardwood floor once more. Reaching his hand to his neck, Nick untied his bandanna and wiped it across his sweaty face. Taking a deep breath, Nick again summoned his body to progress to an upright position. Panting, the black clad cowboy rested his aching head in his hands as he successfully managed to sit up. He contemplated his next move. Finally with a forceful groan, Nick stumbled to his feet, hanging on to the walls of the hallway to keep from toppling over again. Walking tentatively, Nick weaved slightly as he moved down the corridor toward his room. He was stunned to see his colt lying on the floor. The men who had ambushed him had left it in their hurry to escape. He reached for the gun and tucked it into his holster. Scrunching his face and shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Nick retrieved his spurs from the room where he had left them. Stumbling on, he reached his own room, fumbled with the key and entered. He took two steps and let himself collapse onto the bed.
It was about 4:00 in the afternoon when Nick awoke. The sun had started its downward plunge towards evening. On this early summer day, there would still be about three hours left of daylight.
Still groggy, Nick sat up. He knew those men had been sent by the Simmons’ to stop him from finding Heath. Well, it didn’t work, gentlemen, Nick thought to himself. More than ever, Nick was determined to find his little brother before it was too late. He was now convinced that Matt and Martha were holding Heath somewhere in the hotel and that they were bent on killing him in revenge for his bringing them to answer for their part in Rachel Caulfield’s death. While Nick was still aching from the beating he had taken, he rose from the bed with new fortitude. He would go forward and search for Heath. And he would find him. He would find him even if he had to tear up every board in this stinking hotel.
**********
Heath felt himself continue to sink. It was so hard to even hold his head up. He tried to cough to clear the congestion in his lungs but only succeeded in choking. Panic arose in his chest as he gasped to catch enough breath to keep from passing out. Sweat drenched his face and ran into his eyes. Reality of consciousness and the unreality of delirium intermingled and played fierce with his mind. And yet there was the light on the wall that was helping him to hold his grip.
As the day waned, the light that flickered on the wall from the buckle of his belt was falling. Somehow Heath knew in his addled brain if he moved his body just slightly, the light would dance. He knew if he continued to move, the light would eventually reflect so that a passerby outside of his prison would see it. It was his only hope. “Oh please God. Let somebody see it. Let somebody see the light,” he beseeched out loud.
**********
“Alright Mrs. Simmons. I want answers from you and I want them NOW!”
Martha spun around startled when she heard Nick’s growl. “Why Mr. Barkley,” she said trying to compose herself. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah. I’ve heard that one before. Now lady, I’ve just about had enough! Just got done meeting your welcoming committee and I don’t feel like fighting with you. What I want is the truth. Got that? THE TRUTH!” Gritting the words out through his teeth, Nick demanded an answer from the surly woman before him. “Now where’s Heath and where’s Hannah James?”
“Mr. Barkley, I have NO information for you,” she hissed and turned to walk back to her office. Nick reached out and grabbed her arm.
“You let go of me!”
“Not until I know where you’ve got Heath.”
“No!”
“Alright then. I’m not lettin’ go of ya.”
“MATT! Matt come out here quick!”
Nick struggled with Martha, gripping her tighter and turning her so that they were face to face.
“Don’t you understand?” His eyes were pleading with her now. His voice was only a whisper, but his words came out short and tight. “He’s my brother! If you hurt him, you hurt me. Please! Please tell me where he’s at.”
Martha’s eyes narrowed, unmoved by Nick’s passionate plea. Curling her lip, she gave her final answer. “Never!”
Just at that moment, Matt came out from the office. He raised his gun and leveled it at Nick head. “Let her go, Barkley.”
Nick turned toward Matt without releasing his hold on Martha.
“You! You know where my brother is and Hannah too. Please! For the love of God, tell me where they are!” Nick’s voice cracked with emotion.
“I said to let her go. Do it now!” Matt waved his pistol.
Nick reluctantly let loose of Martha’s arm. He momentarily thought he could overpower the unsteady Matt but stepped back from the couple instead.
“I’m going to go get the boys,” Martha declared, and started toward the front door.
“Martha, no!” Matt spoke sternly but kept his gun trained on Nick.
“But why not, Matt? They could help us get rid of our, um, problem here,” she argued gesturing to Nick.
“No more Martha. I’m gonna let him go.” Addressing Nick, Matt said, “You, Mr. Barkley, you go home. Go home to that fancy ranch and forget about that brother of yours. You’ll never see him again. If you don’t leave, I’ll kill you right here. Understand?” Matt cocked his gun. “Now I want you to back away and turn with your hands so that I can see them and walk out that door.”
Nick knew Matt was just crazy enough or drunk enough to carry out his threat. He would have to find another way to get to Heath. He just knew that wherever Heath was, Hannah was there too.
“Alright,” Nick conceded. “Alright, I’m leaving.” He slowly backed away and walked hesitantly towards the entrance of the hotel, making sure his gun hand was outstretched and visible. Matt followed close behind making sure that Nick would be mounting his horse and heading in the direction of Stockton.
Nick untied Coco and climbed up into the saddle. Looking back at the hotel, he saw Matt standing at the door with his gun pointed directly at him. “Come on boy,” Nick nudged his horse forward and slow walked down the main street the same way as he had come in earlier that day. The sun was just at a position to shine directly into his eyes. Nick squinted, pulling his hat down over his forehead hoping to block out some of the bright rays.
Nick coaxed Coco on for about 200 yards and then stopped. He prayed that the Simmons’ had gone back inside of the hotel and were convinced he had heeded their warning. Nudging the horse, Nick lead Coco down a small side street and brought him to a stop under the sprawl of an ancient weathered Oak. Dismounting, Nick secured his horses lead. Being careful not to bring any attention to himself, he started off back to town moving down side streets and abandoned alleys.
He walked cautiously as he approached the back side of the hotel. He was intent on watching the top story windows for anything unusual when something flashed in his e