• Anguish- Will continue to post at least through this month, after that, it will depend strongly on I can rectify Yuku space limitations. It was originally slated for 14 chapters but I am not sure if that will increase or decrease with rewriting (knowing me increase).
• Winding Roads-- the chapter posted this week will be the last on this page since I keep running into space limitations, I had to actually find a place to break the chapter just to post it as I had what is now Chapter 4 and 5 as one chapter.

• Thanksgiving--The Nanny and the Professor fan fic, Game of Love
• Anguish's successor, Apprehensive Musings and Memories -Right over Anguish
• After Game of Love concludes, a Bourbon Street Beat fic, Into the Emerald Fire
• Through the Never (Time Passages successor)- the next month after Apprehensive starts posting
• What Lies We Weave - After Winding Roads concludes though it is not a sequel by any means
• In the Eyes of Those Who Know Thy- A fill-in so when I get writer's block
• My Brother, My Enemy, My Friend - A fill-in so when I get writer's block.

• Due to increasing space limitations here on the Yuku page, it is likely I will sooner than later start switching to the wiki...So to begin by removing a series of video clips over there. I already have started posted screencaptures there instead of here.
• Once I finish out Anguish or have no other open sites for reading Anguish or Winding Roads, I will change the wiki from private to public, likely to registered.
• In the meantime again, you can sign in as "registereduser01" with the password: "passwordrml"

Patience was never a Nick Barkley virtue. Waiting gave way to pacing. Pacing gave way to feelings of anger, sorrow and guilt, a restless patchwork rolled taut and tight, ready to explode.

Nick had possession of Jarrod's pocket watch, taking it out of his pocket and replacing it as the time ticked by. Each time he felt the cool gold to his touch coldness crept into his soul, as if forecasting something ominous.

Nick knew he should have been there many times he wasn't. He should have never let his brothers start out on this trip, he should never have left them alone in the car, truth be told when Jarrod told him he was taking this case he should have had both brothers under lock and key.

Heath was alone in Saunterville, a simple horse buying trip or so the family thought. The Senator was on a routine campaign stop, his wife and young son by his side. Senator Maynard had decided to take the stage, never one to run from threats, veiled or actual. Heath the only passenger on the last leg of a many day journey was instantly cast into one of the biggest conspiracies to affect this new found nation battle-torn from the war against brothers.

As bullets riddled their coach and with no thought for his own well-being Heath turned inward using his body to shield. Heath had managed to save the life of the child whose father was destined to be President; he failed to save the people's hero. For every great man surrounded by the swell of the love of the people there is always one who stands in the shadows, one who lurks to take the light and further extinguishes all that is good.

The gunman failed to get away and with his dying breathe he spoke of the sinister that was men. Heath could have left it at that, both men were dead, the senator and his assassin. Heath could have left it if the Senator's life was all that was at stake. For the assassin was not one and there was more than one victim, rather the list was long, a political and prominent who's who.

Heath had turned the list over to the Sheriff in Mustang Pike a looping notice of times and places. Deputized Heath set out to thwart the next. Arriving in Saunterville, the federal circuit judge and Heath had traded places, a risky exchange and one that could fail but for the younger man's fast reflexes. The would-be assassin was taken into custody and with little to lose knowing he would be tried as a traitor and sure be hung, he gave names.

Too late to pull back plans, five attempts failed that night before word had made way back to the mastermind. Five assassins still on the loose and five prominent mens' lives hung in the balance. Five prominent men who had one thing in common, their belief in change, change for all of those who had little.

Jarrod, of course, who else would they ask to take this case, his penchant for justice known. The fact he was one of the would-be victims and there were assassins still on the move not enough to deter them from asking or sway Jarrod from taking on the most prominent presence of chief prosecutor.

Heath by virtue of his actions would have to be watched. Nick did not believe Jarrod's life alone was in danger. Men like that would not forget it was Heath who almost single-handed stopped a plot that would have rocked a whole nation.

Times like these made Nick proud and infuriated. Neither brother would back down from a fight even if it meant putting them in harm's way. It was both brothers' bravery, sense of ingrained justice and downright self-sacrificing ways that irked Nick. And now, both lay injured and Nick could only expect the worse.

The more Nick worried the more he paced. With neither brother to provide a comforting word or to be there to shoulder the burden, it all rest with Nick. Alone, with heavy heart, the walls seemed to close in forcing Nick out of the clinic into the open air.

Leaning on the hitching post, strong and proud, Nick Barkley pounded the wood, over and over, his hands smarting with each repetition, still he continued. He struck it for every missed opportunity to stop his brothers, for every injury on their bodies, for every unknown assailant that lurked, and in all for every failure that he believed was his.

Abram Morton had run the necessary errands, having the Barkley car unhitched from the main train, and collecting the Barkley possessions and bringing them back to the clinic. He had even taken the task of notifying the Sheriff of Saunterville of the delay. He was just on his way returning from receipt of an acknowledgement telegram when he spied Nick Barkley just outside the clinic.

He watched and wondered, something about the way the dark-haired rancher held himself as if he was always on alert. Attentive and ready to stand and fight, that this was the Barkley that many times over had been in this place of uncertainty before. The one always shielding, always protecting as if as natural for him as breathing was to most men.

The protective nature as much a foundation of what was bred in his spirit from his mother and his father as it was from what he built in his heart. A heart that beats in the man, who everyday wakes with life anew, joins his brothers' side-by-side, and raises the ranch to newer and greater heights.

From all he could he gather, this was the middle brother sandwiched between the responsible eldest and the dreamer youngest. Although all three were bound by love and blood; neither the two stood with him. Not until later, when the other brother joined and for once there was someone who could finally understand him and his love of the land, two men separated by birth brought together my common fire.

As for the love for the eldest brother all one needed was to take one look into the deep lines of sorrow or watch the gentle way Nick cradled his brother laying him as gently on the clinic bed as one lays a child. Watch the fleeting last glimpse as he was made to leave and know that this man had two best friends and they are both his brothers. Men he shared his ideas, men he shared his dreams and men who shared the good and the bad.

Abram Morton, healer of man's souls, pondered if he could help heal this man's. When the world tumbled in and around Nick Barkley would he listen, this independent man who needed no one? What would happen when the ones he relies on are no longer there?

Abram had been with his brother Caleb, he saw the eldest Barkley fevered brow, heard the labored breathing and watched as Jarrod Barkley slipped further and further away. He had delivered the packing of ice twice in between errands and prayed for the coming of chill.

An unspoken inquiry, there was little hope. Abram was a praying man and as long as God graced any man with one spark of life, Abram clung to that slightest hope of a miracle.

Abram approached speaking as he did, "Just received a telegram from the Sheriff of Saunterville. He informed me that could have some deputies here by tomorrow. I told him not to worry a couple of us would head out with you and your brothers when you are all able.

"Thanks, I appreciate you taking care of this. I just ain't up to leaving my brothers without knowing how they are."

"I understand, is there any other messages you would like sent." The preacher pressed on hoping, "A message to your family perhaps?" The preacher had noticed the blatant absence of a letter to any family member, knew that the man in front of him was trying to shoulder it all and feared he had taken on too much already.

"Well I have a couple more telegrams penned if you don't mind, one to my youngest brother to head this way and another to the ranch that we will be sending the private car back." Nick's forehead was furrowed and was thinking out loud, "I hadn't expected to tell my mother or sister, didn't want to worry them." Nick hesitated waiting for confirmation that he had made the right decision, silence only followed. "I reckon they ought to be here. If you'll come inside with me, I put together a note letting them know of our delay."

Nick hastening scratched out a short note for the telegram which he passed to Abram who upon reading continued, "Nick, it is best you tell them as much as you can. I think we need to tell them to come quickly, don't you?"

With a slightest nod of his head, Nick agreed, knowing that both Mother and Audra would want to be here, and knowing both had that right.

Before Abram could turn and leave, the door cracked open to admit the exhausted healer. Nick bounded, "How are my brothers?"

Nick didn't need to hear the words, the grim line of the lips, the creases around the eyes and the inescapable droop of the shoulders of a man in defeat painted an overcast of despondency. In one moment the breathe Nick had subconsciously been holding silently dispelled, his legs almost gave way, and Nick Barkley's world crumbled.

As Abram silently slipped away, he heard his own brother's soft voice, "Mr. Barkley, I wish I could have better news, but I am afraid the information I have to share for both your brothers is disheartening."