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Thank you again everyone. Thanks to Molly my mind is filled with glorious visions of Heath in the shower. Be still my beating heart. No answers yet but please tell me who you think Heath's parents are. There will be one more chapter before all is reveled. I revamped the last paragraph of ch7 so I'm enclosing it here.
Enjoy,
Ros

"…'m…I…ya...basta'…son?"

The voice was wispy and dry, but Tom heard the question and knew its importance
and with a voice quivering with angst and dread he said, "No, Heath, you're…" In his arms, Tom felt Heath go limp and his answer was unfinished. He drew Heath closer to him and with a heart fit to bust he wept into Heath's blond hair.

8
Ten minutes after the shooting had finished and quieted, the Dr. Merars, father and son, being the medics for the vicinity, were approaching the wooded area at the front of Sample's farmstead. They heard a single shot going off and as the farmstead came into view they saw and wondered at Nick and Eugene Barkley riding 'hell for leather' toward the wood. The doctors continued, driving their buggy on through the gateway in the fence enclosing Sample's farmstead. They saw the bloody havoc and knew they would have their work cut out. Hastily climbing down from the buggy with his medical bag in his hand, Dr. Thomas Merar, the senior of the two doctors, spotted what looked like Tom Barkley cradling a body in his arms, Jarrod Barkley kneeling close by and a distraught Mrs. Sample leaning and wailing over her prone husband.

Being the nearest to him, the senior doctor rushed over to Tom Barkley. He dropped to his knees and put a hand to Heath's neck. "I can feel a heartbeat, weak, but it's there, Tom, it's there," he said to assure Tom Barkley. Thomas removed his hand from Heath's neck wondering who the young stranger was who could cause such distress to his dear friend. Only once before had he seen Tom so distressed and that had been under similar circumstances over the shooting and consequent death of Victoria, Tom's late wife. Removing cotton wool wadding from his bag, he held it out to Jarrod who was holding an extremely bloodied neckerchief, putting pressure to the bullet hole in Heath's back. "Jarrod, keep the wadding firmly to the wound 'til it's stopped bleeding," the doctor said, instructing calmly.

Suddenly aware of the doctor's presence, Tom looked up and wiping his shirt sleeve across his eyes, he said, "Do something, Thomas, I can't lose him, not now." Winning the battle against the railroad had dwindled into insignificance for Tom when compared to the life of the boy cradled in his arms.

The doctor wondered at Tom's plaintiff plea and exchanged puzzled glances with Jarrod before answering, "You're doing all that can be done at the moment. First stop the bleeding and then get him into the wagon. It's cleaner there." Thomas Merar recognized the mildew-green wagon with red wheels as Tom's. "I'll be back shortly. I need to help Howard and check on the others."

Tom nodded, he knew the boy was not the only one seriously injured and though he desperately wanted the doctor to remain, it was not in him to be selfish.

As promised, Thomas returned a short time later to find Tom and Jarrod in the wagon with the young, insentient stranger, bloodied and naked to the waist, settled on his side. Before climbing into the wagon, Thomas noticed the large pool of congealing blood still soaking into the sandy earth. He was worried at the amount and quickly checked Heath's heart rate. "It's too fast. He needs blood before I can remove the bullet. Any more loss of blood while I remove the bullet could be fatal."

"Give him mine." Upset and desperate, Tom, having been through the procedure before with Nick, rolled up his sleeve in preparation.

"It's no good, Tom, you know the dangers as I do. Any mismatch and he or you could die."

"He's dying as we speak, get on with it, man. It'll be all right, I assure you." Tom was sharp and obviously agitated, wanting Thomas to get on with the transfusion.

Jarrod, though concerned, knew better than to censure his father. Jarrod doubted his father would put himself or the boy at risk, for he was an intelligent and practical man. Wondering at the drive in his father toward Heath, Jarrod nodded to Thomas to get on with the transfusion.

"All right, be it on your own head, Tom, damned pig headed fool Barkley." Unhappy, yet compliant, Thomas set up the transfusion and cautioned Jarrod to monitor the pulse in Heath's wrist and then he left, needing space to calm down by doing essential doctoring elsewhere. He hoped all would be well when he returned.

Nick had been watching his father approach Heath and had witnessed the shooting. At that moment in time, he was grateful that Heath had unwittingly put himself in the way of the bullet and saved his father's life. Not concerned about Heath, but assured his father was all right, he and Eugene had ridden off in search of the sniper. By the time Thomas had removed the bullet and was wrapping a dressing around Heath's torso, Nick and Eugene returned from their futile quest to catch the sniper.

When he looked into the wagon and saw his father's caring behavior toward Heath, Nick did not know quite how to feel - thankful, grateful, sorry, jealous, or angry. He had expected Heath to be long dead and with his hands on his hips, he said the first thing that came to mind, "At least he came in good for something," Despite his feelings, the animosity toward Heath was still evident in his voice.

Adding to Nick's confused emotions, with blood-shot eyes, Tom Barkley glared up at Nick while Jarrod said, "Nick, that'll do."

Duly admonished, Nick knew when to make himself scarce and shrugging his shoulders, stormed away from the wagon.

Speculating on Nick's remark, Thomas finished off securing the dressing with a bandage and then asked, "I gather he was not fighting for the railroad, so then how come he was shot in the back?"

Jarrod explained what had happened, and Thomas nodded thinking he understood Tom's distress.

"Was there any sign of the sniper?" Tom asked Eugene.

"No. We found where he stood, but he had well scarpered by that time." Eugene shrugged his shoulders.

Thomas listened and then referring to Heath, said, "I don't know where he hales from, Tom, so will you be taking him home?"

Nick had returned to the wagon in time for Thomas's question and to hear his father's reply. "Yes."

"Oh, well now that's it…" Nick openly displayed his displeasure at caring for Heath at the ranch.

"Nicholas, you were brought up a Christian with Christian values and you can please show some charity." With Heath's head now nestled on his lap, Tom glared again at his second born. "It might have been an accident, but he saved my life and you know it. But for Heath, I'd be dead now." Because he was not ready to give any further explanation regarding Heath, Tom inferred obligation for his concern. "You can drive, please."

Nick, begrudgingly and grouchily, tied Heath's horse to the back of the wagon and walking to the front, he climbed into the driving seat and took hold of the lines.

Thomas climbed out from the back of the wagon and cautioned Nick to drive carefully and slowly. "I'm not sure he'll make it, but he survived the transfusion so he might now have enough stubborn Barkley blood in his veins to prove me wrong." Not realizing how true his statement was, Thomas tut-tutted and shook his head. "I'll be round later to check on him and see to your arm." Thomas Merar looked to Jarrod.

Eugene climbed into the seat next to Nick and the wagon lurched into motion.

"He'll make it, he has to," Tom said to himself. Then careful of the purple bruises courtesy of Heath's encounter with Nick the previous evening, Tom pushed his fingers over Heath's otherwise ashen face and on through the damp, blond hair.

TBC

NB