Heath Conners was about to go in search of his employer when Duke burst breathlessly into the house, crying so hard he gasped for air. Running to him, his powerful hands gripped the young man's trembling shoulders. "My God, boy, what is it?" Gulping back tears, Duke tried to speak but no words came, only a thin shaky finger pointing to the west. The older man was patient as he tried to pull the kid together. "The stable? Did something happen to one of the horses?"

The boy's head swayed back and forth. Afraid he was going to pass out, Heathe helped him into the clubroom and eased him into an armchair. Duke was not easily shook. Heathe knew that, knew that something horrible had to have happened for him to be this upset so without waiting, he rushed outside and ran headlong down the path to the stables.

As he approached, he saw that the horses had been let into the corral, except for Thunderboomer who pranced excitedly outside the open stable doors. He called to the stallion but the horse was spooked and backed off several yards, raising his magnificent head and snorting. Going after him, Heathe saw a shaft of light, gleaming through the building and realized the door at the opposite end had been carelessly left open as well. It was a wonder all the horses hadn't gotten loose, he thought angrily. Exasperated, he went into the building to slide the heavy planked door shut when an object protruding from Thunderboomer's stall caught his eye.

The gate hung ajar and Heathe hurriedly swung it out of his way to peer inside. His eyes had barely adjusted to the dim light but he could make out the nude body of Joseph Tupelo, hogtied in the shadowy corner, his hands and feet lashed together with the leather thongs of a bridle. Dead eyes stared into eternity from the head lying on the ground in one of the puddles of blood that had begun crusting on the wounds which covered him.

Slung face down next to Joey was Rene Sanders, naked, her hands tied behind her back, blood in sickening patches over her body. One leg had been strapped to a post of the stall, and it had been her protruding foot that had first caught Heathe's attention. Without warning, he tasted the salty bile that had risen in his throat and he dropped to his knees in an effort to fight back the queasiness that engulfed him.

"No, not again," he moaned over and over, his eyes stinging with bitter memories. He'd seen things like this in Nam but the horrifying images had stayed buried until now. He had prayed never to witness such atrocities again. But there he was, reliving his worst nightmares.

Casting his eyes on the ground, Heathe was suddenly aware of the blood, a path of it, as if the bodies had been dragged there from some other place. He was running tremulous fingertips across the dried trail when a groan from the stall stirred him from his stupor. Held in a moment's confusion, he hesitated then hurriedly reached out to check the pulse of the mangled woman. His fingers trembled, yet he was sure he felt a slight throbbing in her neck and turned her head to catch the light. She was ashen but her skin held none of the bluish death-tint of Joey's. The eyes were closed and restful.

"My God!" Heathe exclaimed, jumping to his feet. He ran as fast as he could to the house, throwing the door open and going to the clubroom, he grabbed the phone and dialed nine-one-one, spoke briefly with a dispatcher then flew up the winding stairs to rumble about in one of the storage closets. In seconds, he returned downstairs to the clubroom and began shoving clean blankets into Duke's numb arms. The boy sat there and looked dumbly at his load while Heath roughly hauled him to his feet.

"Come on, boy, pull yourself together! Miss Sanders is still alive," Heathe ordered, thrusting his keys in Duke's sweaty palm. "Take the Jeep. It's out front. Get her covered up. I'll follow you down as soon as I find Nate."

Duke stared at him blankly, tears welling in the hazel eyes. Heathe shook him. "Listen to me. An ambulance is on its way. You're wasting time. She's still alive! Do you understand?" The boy nodded. "Good, then hurry down there, cover Ms. Sanders but don't move her. We don't want people seeing her like that. Can you do it?" he asked with urgency.

Duke sniffed and bending his head wiped his face on the top blanket. "Yessir," he mumbled.

"Then hurry!" Heathe said turning toward the kitchen, glancing over his shoulder to see that the boy had gone.

"What in the blazes is goin' on here? Duke liked to have run me over. And what's he doin' with my clean blank--"

Heathe spun round and grabbed Ma by the shoulders. "Where's Nathan?"

"Oh, my Lord, wha—"

"Where is he?"

"In the office."

He tore down the hallway, leaving Mrs. Manford bewildered and hollered Nate's name. Freshly showered, his boss glanced up as the towering blond burst into the room like Mercury with a message of doom. He started to speak but was stopped short as Heathe breathlessly began blurting out what had happened.

"I need to get back there. You oughta stay here with Blythe. She'll hear the sirens. I imagine the police will be right on the ambulances tail."

In shock, Nate shook his head. "No, you go on. I'll stop and let Ma know what's goin' on and have her keep Blythe up here at the house. I'll have to ask her not to tell Blythe what's happened. Jesus, Heathe, she can't see what you just described to me. No matter what, we have to protect her from it. I'll have to be the one to tell her when we get back." An expression of dread and disbelief came over him.

"I'm sorry, boss."

"So am I...for a lot of things. Now go!"

#

Nate was there when the ambulance arrived. Emerging from the stable into the blinding light, he shaded his eyes and greeted the paramedics then led them to where Heathe stayed with bodies. The police arrived and both men were asked to leave. Again they stepped into the glaring sunshine which seemed so discordant with the morbidness of the drama inside.

Duke, who had been sent off earlier to retrieve the wayward stallion, now stood listlessly, hanging onto Thunderboomer's bridle as he watched dumbstruck, the young drummer's body, zipped in a bag, being hauled out on a gurney.

The horse whinnied and stomped the ground restlessly, breaking the silence and glancing over Nate saw Blythe next to him, a trembling hand resting on its muscular hindquarter. It was as though she was paralyzed as she watched on without a blink of an eye or hint of expression.

"Heathe, get her out of here!" Nate ordered, indicating his wife's presence with a tilt of his head. But it was too late. Rene Sanders was being carried out on a stretcher, her bloody abused body wrapped in fresh sheets, her head, streaked with dirt and blood was exposed, the once shiny raven hair dull and matted, splintered with straw.

Dashing to Blythe, Heathe tried to turn her away but she pushed past him, drawing closer to the stretcher as it was lifted into the ambulance. Nate stepped up, blocking her view.

"Is she dead?" Blythe whispered, trying to see around her husband.

"Not yet," Heathe said from behind.

She looked up at Nate for the first time, her eyes wide, misty. They gazed searchingly into his for a long pain-filled moment. Her voice was low and throaty when she spoke. "That's how I looked, isn't it?"

His eyes flicked beyond her to his friend. "Get her out of here," he groaned pleadingly.

Blythe heard him but it was as if from a distance and her surroundings began to spin. Suddenly, she was grateful for the strong hands that supported her and helped her into the Jeep. Numbly, she sat and allowed herself to be driven back to the house, seeing nothing but the scene she'd just left, a cruel déja vu.

Ma Manford, frantic when she couldn't find Blythe, was out front when they pulled up. She scurried over to open the car door, whisking Blythe into her nurturing arms as the young woman stumbled out.

"Lan' sakes, child, why did you go and sneak off like that? I told you your husband was fine and would explain it all when he got back." Ma shot Heathe a troubled look as she followed the dazed woman up the steps. "She's pale as a sheet. What did she see down there?"

There was a moment's thoughtful pause. "She saw herself, Ma." Heathe said sorrowfully. "She saw herself."

Inside, with Blythe seated comfortably in the kitchen, staring into space, her tea growing cold in the untouched cup, Heathe stood by the sink and in a hushed voice recounted everything he could to a shocked Ruby Manford.

"Well, no wonder! The child's been traumatized. Look at her. Stone-like she is, as if she'd seen a ghost. And I suppose in a way she has. History repeatin' itself, I'd say. The dear, havin' ta see what she did's bad enough, but after what she's been through, what with the nightmares and such Mr. Nate's told me about... Bless her heart! Not that I have any love for Rene Sanders, mind ya, but I do hate this to happen ta anyone. Do you think she'll live?"

"Who knows, Ma? She's a strong woman."

"Don't be mistakin' meanness for strength. Has she been conscious? Has she been able to say who did it?"

Heathe shook his head.

And that poor Joey fella, dead already," Ruby muttered.

"Joey?" Blythe repeated, suddenly alert.

Ruby was about to go to her and answer but there was a large commotion at the front of the house and the three remained silent as they listened expectantly to footsteps nearing the kitchen.

"Ma?" Blythe said into the quiet.

"Yes, child?" she answered, going to the table where the young woman sat.

"That was how I looked, wasn't it?"

Slipping cautiously into the kitchen, Nate overheard his wife's question. "The police are here," he broke in. "I took them into the library. They're questioning Duke now. Heathe, they want to talk to both of us."

Blythe turned to her husband and caught the conspiratorial look that passed between the two men. It was collusive, knowing. About what, she wasn't sure and was too befuddled to guess. Yet, a chill of foreboding made the hairs on the back of her neck bristle and she shivered involuntarily.

"Ma, get her upstairs," Nate was saying.

Pulling from her reserve, Blythe stiffened. "I can manage quite well by myself, thank you."

"Are you positive, dear? I think a doctor best have a look at ya," Ma suggested.

Standing erect, Blythe gave the older woman a reassuring smile. "It's alright. Really, I'm fine!"

"Go with her, Ma," Nate demanded.

"No!" Blythe hissed hotly at her husband. "I am not an invalid and I am not falling apart or in the throes of a breakdown!" And she stormed past them all and up the narrow kitchen stairs to her room.

When Blythe was out of sight, Ma looked apprehensively at her employer.

"It's okay. Let her go. I'll check on her myself later."

"Don't you think you're bein' a tad cold with her, son?"

He gazed thoughtfully at the old woman's compassionate face. "Stern, not cold. The biggest favor I can do for her right now is to protect her from as much of this as possible. There'll be time for kindness later. Which reminds me we're gonna be facin' a hell of a problem with the press. I want them kept out of here, especially away from Blythe. She couldn't take it."

He turned to Heathe. "Keep the gates locked. Call the phone company and have the number changed and unlisted again. Get in touch with J.T. and let's see how much power he has in keeping the media at bay." Nate paused looking from one to the other meaningfully. "Whatever happens, I don't want Blythe's past dredged up. Make sure Eddie gets the message."

Again, something unsaid passed between the men as they stared briefly at one another. Looking away, Nate re-entered the hallway where Duke slumped against a wall, the brim of his oversized Stetson twisted in tense fingers.

"We're finished with the boy for the time being," an officer said.

Duke glanced sheepishly at his employer. "Is it okay if I get home now? I ain't feelin' any too good."

Nate looked at the policeman who nodded. "It's okay, Dennis. I'll be in touch in a couple of days. You just take it easy. And thanks."

"Yessir, Mr. Nate." He started to leave but turned back. "There's just one thing. Miss Blythe's horse, I left him tethered outside." The boy swallowed hard. "You want me to put him back...back in his--"

"The horses need to be kept out of the stable until a thorough investigation's been done. Sorry," the officer interrupted.

"It's okay. I'll get him back in the corral with the others. Go on home now, Duke. And Duke?"

"Yessir?"

"You did a fine job here today. Thank you."

The boy gave a swift nod. "Bye, sir."

"Bye, son."