During today's White House meetings Jarrod once again rose above the crowd showing his superior intellect, legal knowledge, and ability to think under immense pressure. The negotiations finally swung the way the California delegation intended and the conference began to wrap up. The governor's delegation hoped to begin the long journey back across the country by the following afternoon or evening.

Before he left the meetings that evening the president's secretary handed Jarrod a handwritten invitation.

Mr. Barkley,

I would consider it a personal favor if you would join me here tomorrow afternoon for a dinner meeting. Please notify my secretary of your intentions. I hope to see you tomorrow at 1PM.

Gratefully, your obedient,

US Grant

Jarrod quickly gave the president's secretary his acceptance of the offer. Carefully placing his new treasure in his briefcase the attorney returned to the group's discussion. When he returned to his room after supper Jarrod peaked at his treasure still in shock the president personally contacted him.

After writing a wire to his family, doing a small amount of packing, and taking a good long soak Jarrod tried to rest. It was impossible to calm himself down. Jarrod spent his entire adult life dedicated to the laws of this country. He believed without any doubt in America's future and in his never ending search for justice as the country continued to grow, change, and realize it's potential.

Jarrod finally gave up and sat trying to read a few briefs. He was making shaky progress until his eyes fell on the family picture the attorney always set out in his hotel rooms. Jarrod's eyes glanced over the familiar faces and came to rest on his youngest brother, Heath. The blonde was standing between Jarrod and their other brother, Nick. Seated in front were the Barkley women, Victoria and Audra.

Odd arrangement ... Wasn't it? Heath was in the middle of the entire family. Jarrod smiled thinking how unnatural the loner felt stuck in the middle of any group, large or small. But as his mind reviewed the relationships Heath had built with his family over the past two years Jarrod smiled thinking the photographer inadvertently put the blue eyed blonde in the correct place in their family. He made a mental note to mention these thoughts to his mother when Jarrod returned to Stockton.

Jarrod dimmed the lamp and leaned back gazing out at the lights of the nation's capital. Fate was offering an incredible opportunity. Jarrod Barkley had been invited to enjoy a midday meal with the president. Obviously President Grant had his own agenda and Jarrod might show up only to find a large room of men gathered for an impersonal meeting. But Jarrod's gut told him the president didn't write personal invitations to large groups of men. No, this was an enormous opportunity and Jarrod needed to decide if he would simply wait and see what would happen or take the offensive with the president arriving ready to offer his own agenda.

Sitting in the dark Jarrod took out a legal pad, a pencil, and began to make notes. He must remember every detail possible from the file locked securely in his home safe. Buried in with the Barkley's most important records were the papers Jarrod put together when his brother, Heath, arrived at the ranch claiming to be a Barkley. Their mother, Victoria, took one look at the boy and for whatever reason accepted Heath and insisted her entire family would do the same.

Jarrod felt it his duty to run a background check on this new brother. He never discussed it with anyone because by the time the information was gathered its purpose was mute. Heath was accepted as a Barkley by all except hard to convince Nick. Nick still gave Heath a hard time as they struggled to grow and change in their forced partnership whose purpose was to efficiently run the Barkley ranch.

Even after mother took a trip to Strawberry and brought home evidence to further prove Heath's heritage Nick remained the lone holdout in giving Heath a 100% unquestioned acceptance. Jarrod smiled at his keen awareness of the fact Heath's heritage no longer mattered. The boy was his brother, a Barkley, and the family would never let Heath go whatever a few papers may say.

But in among the papers in Jarrod's file was something a friend gave him which the attorney should not have ever been aware existed. A former friend from the Army's Adjutant General's office forwarded a copy of Heath's military records. It turned out to be the most startling record Jarrod was privileged to read in his entire life.

There was an overall factor to remember when reading Heath's army record. The boy joined at the ripe old age of fourteen and was given an administrative discharge when he was only sixteen. This alone would make Heath's record rather unusual, but there was more, much more.

Jarrod remembered reviewing the many awards and commendations given the talented sharpshooter. These elite squads were transferred around to hot action points and repeatedly sent to the very front lines with a mission to shoot to kill anything that moved on the enemy's line. The sharpshooters were often instructed to aim for enemy officers or anyone on horseback first. The riders were either officers or messengers racing between officers, which must be stopped in an effort to slow down and confuse enemy communications.

He imagined no one in his brother's basic training unit fussed much about the boy's age once they saw his skill with a rifle. Heath was given the most effective repeat action rifle available with an advanced sighting added. Jarrod was not surprised to remember Heath was rated as an outstanding shot and valued member of his sharpshooter's squad. McConnell's shooters were known throughout the Union army and Jarrod himself although stationed in the east for most of the war knew of them.

The file was coming alive in his brain and Jarrod took rapid notes. Heath's scouting abilities were honed as he and his peers where often placed in far forward positions which were not Union held. Time after time Jarrod's little brother led lost men back behind friendly lines. It was these skills and fate which led Heath to Lookout Mountain in the fall of 1863.

Jarrod thought threw Major McConnell's official report. His squad was assigned to move forward of the Union lines to take up positions which would enable them to handicap the skilled batteries of Longstreet's First Corps resting on top of Lookout Mountain. The batteries were commanded by the well-known young artillery genius, General Porter Alexander.

Alexander's skill brought the Union forces to a complete standstill in and around Chattanooga, Tennessee. Confederate batteries from First Corps were placed on Lookout Mountain and controlled all movement in, out, and around the Union held city. The situation was grave and McConnell was sent in to break up the battery's effectiveness by wiping out the men who manned the powerful guns. Somehow during a dark, stormy, and angry night filled with raging battles and confused lines General Grant and his staff became lost in the thick woods surrounding Lookout Mountain. McConnell's squad was ordered back earlier in the evening. Initially successful in slowing down Alexander's batteries General Rosecrans did not move forward to reinforce and support the inroads the sharpshooters gained. Longstreet quickly noted the Union attempt to shut down his siege operations and sent an entire brigade of infantry forward to eliminate McConnell's company.

The famous sharpshooter company ceased to exist that night. In the middle of the horrid slaughter in the woods Heath stumbled upon Grant's party. A scout of Heath's capabilities could have easily side stepped the large party of officers. Instead Heath reported to the group and made available his detailed topographical knowledge of the area. The young soldier stayed with the general and his staff, fought in combat situations which disintegrated into bitter hand to hand fighting, and scouted a route away from danger delivering Grant and his staff to the safety of Rosecrans' headquarters.

Grant and McConnell were the cosigners on Heath's commendation for bravery with a recommendation for approval of the awarding of the army's highest medal for valor under fire, the Silver Star. The medal turned out to be something Heath won while in Carterson, was awarded while gravely ill in a Garland, Texas army hospital unit, and lost when Heath was given an administrative discharge when released unceremoniously from invalid leave.

Jarrod saw his share of action during the war. He could close his eyes and see, smell, and hear the horror of that night on Lookout Mountain. Two things stuck out as Jarrod reread the records passing across his mind. First, the army's inability to recognized the average soldier unless an extreme act of bravery almost forced their hand. This placed an even higher value on Heath's being awarded the Silver Star while holding the rank of private. Second, to expect any soldier to turn from saving themselves to lead a group of officers through a deadly woods is beyond imagination. To know a fourteen-year old boy saved those men still boggled Jarrod's mind.

The worn attorney managed to sleep on and off. His mind was full of the people, events, and places detailed in Heath's military record. The haunting medical reports from Garland, Texas and Los Angeles, California were painful to read. They told the story of a boy trapped in a hellish world full of mental and physical torture. When Heath bravely fought his way back towards health and a normal life the army striped him of his honorable discharge, Silver Star, Purple Heart recommendation, basically erased his brave service from the annuls of the United States Army. It was a shameful act and Jarrod still had not come to grips with reading the record. He could not fathom Heath living the events.

As Jarrod quickly dressed and prepared for the day ahead his younger brother flooded his mind. Heath was the most private man Jarrod had ever known. Jarrod never confessed his secret investigation to anyone in the family. How could he ever justify discussing Heath's military record with the president without his brother's knowledge?

Jarrod checked his appearance in the full length mirror before starting out the door to begin the day. After one step down the hall he returned to the full-length mirror behind the door of his room and stared at the reflection. Jarrod's mind quickly reviewed his plan for his meeting with President Grant. For a moment his confidence waned.

Justice? What an exercise in rhetoric the word could be. The well-trained lawyer in Jarrod told him justice simply meant conformity to the law. The idealist in him thought of justice as the principle of moral or ideal rightness. What was the right thing to do?

If Jarrod began this process without consulting Heath would he lose a brother while trying to do the right thing? If he missed this once in a life time opportunity who would ever speak for Heath and so many other men who served with dignity, but were treated as if they were this nation's trash?

Jarrod sighed letting his exasperation flow freely out with his breath. He waved off the carriage driver outside the hotel and walked the three blocks to the White House and the end of the water rights conference.

Words flew threw his mind ... Justice, justness, rectitude, equity, fairness, impartiality, right, and finally Jarrod's mind came to rest on the word which defined his life, LAW.

Jarrod's steps quickened as his confidence grew. Jarrod Barkley made up his mind to fight, take hold of an opportunity to right a wrong, and pray his brother would eventually see why this effort must be mounted. The president was about to dine with a talented man at his best. Jarrod would be thorough and efficient ... He never wasted his talent or energy. He quickly checked in with the White House guard and set his course. Jarrod was in search of justice and would not be denied.

President Grant's secretary greeted the men and introduced them once more. Interesting mix the president had gathered. Ben Avery of Philadelphia was a bright young attorney with the second largest bank in the United States. Jim Stanley and Jarrod were old acquaintances from Harvard yard. Jim had been in the class ahead of Jarrod's. Stanley lived in New York City and held an impressive position with a large law firm. The same law firm picked to represent the state of New York in the newly ended water conference.

The men shook hands and casual remarks about the final outcome of the conference. Jarrod and Jim made a determined effort to include Ben and not talk old Harvard stories too much. The general consensus was President Grant made important inroads by bringing representatives in from across the states. The legislature was now more able to pass laws to decrease squabbling regarding water rights.

"Gentlemen," one of the sharply detailed soldiers from the door announced, "The President of the United States."

All the men stood and once again greeted President Grant. The president shook hands all around and made remarks regarding each of his guest's important contributions to the success of his conference. It was obvious Grant's background of working with large groups of men served him well. The president picked up on small tidbits of each individual and then used his insight to quickly build an assessment of the man.

Their meal was served immediately and the conversation turned to political issues in the three states the men represented. Jarrod pulled away for a few minutes and did some assessing of his own. Ben and Jim were entering the prime of their careers as was Jarrod. President Grant appeared to have hand picked them from the crowd in an effort to encourage their increased participation in the political process. Yes, Grant wanted Jarrod to consider running for office. Nice compliment, but not a direction Jarrod Barkley saw in his future. Not at the present moment anyway.

Grant was much smaller than he looked in pictures. He was of average height and weight with an extremely dry sense of humor. The president was never without a lit cigar even during his meal. There was a sullen sadness to the man. As if Grant had been shoved into his enormous fame against his will. Jarrod was fascinated by his country's leader.

Grant's secretary interrupted them after exactly one hour announcing the president had a heavy afternoon schedule. The group stood and the men began to express their gratitude for the president's invitation. Grant made his way around the room purposefully leaving Jarrod for last. When the other men stepped out in the hall to be escorted to the exit Grant requested a moment with Jarrod. Grant stood watching as the other men left and his secretary read messages while reminding the president of his enormous schedule.

"Thanks, David," Grant patted the young man on the shoulder with an odd smile on his face.

"Oh, no," the secretary glanced from his boss to Jarrod and back, "You really are backed up, Mr. President, sir."

Grant smiled and nodded while drawing on his cigar letting the smoke swirl around his head.

"Com'on, Mr. Barkley," Grant motioned to the French doors leading to the garden, "Could you spare a moment to walk with me?"

"Yes," Jarrod shook off his disappointment with not having an opportunity to propose his agenda, "I would be honored, Mr. President."

The two men walked away from Grant's exasperated secretary into the White House gardens. Grant quickly moved around the greenery and headed to the stables towards the rear of the property.

"I understand your family provides the army many quality horses, Mr. Barkley."

Jarrod laughed, "Yes, sir."

"You laugh, sir," Grant's face was delighted with Jarrod's move towards ease, "A good horse saved my life more than once in this lifetime. I dare say some of them may have been Barkley stock."

"If they had anything to do with your safety, sir, I hope they were from our ranch."

President Grant leaned up on the corral fence and waved off the grooms while obviously enjoying being near the horses.

"I'd say I see a horse lover in you, Mr. President," Jarrod joined Grant on the fence.

Grant lit another cigar and wholeheartedly laughed.

"I LOVE THE BEASTS!" Grant slapped Jarrod slightly on the shoulder, "Most days I prefer them to all the humans I know."

Jarrod smiled and nodded his understanding.

"Are you involved with your family's horse operation, Mr. Barkley?"

Grant was at ease and obviously enjoyed the subject he detained Jarrod to discuss.

"Only in being the guardian of my family's financial and legal matters, sir. My brothers are the cowboys. They would be talking your ear off about horseflesh if they were here. I do enjoy riding, but admit to feeling I have no knowledge compared to them."

"Oh, I see," Grant chuckled and shifted his weight, "So I've invited the wrong Barkley to the White House?"

Jarrod laughed, "I hope not, sir. I hope not."

"Must admit I got the feeling you had something on your mind during our gathering with Avery and Stanley."

"You did?"

"Yes. I didn't run the largest army in the history of this nation without being able to read men quickly. I only wish those talents helped here in Washington."

"They don't, sir?"

"No, politicians aren't men ... They're snakes!"

They laughed and moved around to a shaded bench. Jarrod followed the president's lead and sat to watch the horses.

"Interesting you should bring up my brother, Mr. President."

Grant lit another cigar and folded his arms across his chest. The president seemed lost in thought. Luckily Heath had Jarrod well practiced in waiting out silences so he relaxed and watched the horses. In a few minutes Grant broke the silence after he waved his secretary away with a disgusted grunt.

"What about this brother YOU brought up, Mr. Barkley?"

Jarrod leaned back and tried to keep on his best courtroom demeanor.

"I believe you know him, sir."

"I know a lot of men, Mr. Barkley. Don't tell me this is going to be another story of how I met your brother during the war. Do you have any idea how many men I met during those horrible years?"

Jarrod thought carefully before answering, "How many men did you meet while lost late one night on Lookout Mountain in October of 1863?"

Grant stood up and gazed down with great intensity. His sudden movement made Jarrod think the president was angry, but when he met Grant's gaze the president's eyes showed no anger.

Grant took a long puff then put his arms behind his back, he raised an eyebrow before responding, "I did not meet a man on Lookout Mountain, but I did meet an extremely talented boy."

Jarrod broke into a wide grin showing his immense pride and agreed while nodding his head, "Yes, my brother, Heath."

"My, God," Grant eased back and forth on his feet, "I haven't thought on that night in years. Ol' Pete gave us a clobber we didn't soon forget. Luckily Bob-E Lee wanted Longstreet back and Bragg was too much of an idiot to realize what Pete could have accomplished out in Tennessee. Poor Hancock ..."

Grant shook his head and puffed away for a few minutes.

"Sir?"

Grant was caught in his memories and continued, "Bragg wasted some of Pete's boys, First Corps. Lee brought Pete back just when the Union army was going to bust through at the Wilderness in Virginia."

"I remember, but why 'poor' Hancock, Mr. President?"

Grant smiled lost in memories, "Well, Pete came up on Hancock after putting up with Bragg's wasteful ways in Tennessee. As always First Corps was greatly outnumbered, outsupplied, and had no excuse not to be running in the complete opposite direction.

"Pete can have quite a temper when he feels a wrong has been done to his men, his boys. Longstreet didn't even need orders to know what Lee wanted him to do. He took out his frustration with Bragg on Hancock. As my dear comrade, Hancock, said 'Longstreet rolled his men up like a wet blanket'."

Grant was smiling as he puffed continuously on his cigar. His eyes were seeing people, places, and battles far away from the White House.

"The war was a terrible scourge upon this entire nation, sir."

"Yes," Grant smiled and came back to meet Jarrod's eyes, "The last two years of which I would have missed ... GOOD GOD, Mr. Barkley! I wouldn't be standing before you today if your brother hadn't taken mercy on a group of idiot lost officers during a night from absolute HELL in Tennessee. I suppose your brother has shared his side of the story often?"

Jarrod smiled and held his president's sincere gaze, quietly answering, "No, Mr. President, I can honestly tell you Heath has never mentioned that night to me."

Grant saw there was much too talk about behind the bright blue eye's staring his way. They moved back into the Oval Office. Grant waved off his staff and gave Jarrod an hour to present his case. The talented lawyer made more than good use of his time. It was an hour neither Jarrod Barkley or President Grant would ever forget.

The war hadn't touched the city physically, but even now the political war was tearing the city and the entire state of Louisiana apart. The devastation throughout the South was still terribly obvious whenever Jarrod traveled east. This trip he read the hatred in the newspapers and felt his unwelcome on the streets. As far as the Southern people were concerned the Civil War was very much an unsettled issue. It was an eye-opening experience for Jarrod Barkley.

The Californian made his way through the US Army's vast array buildings in the center of the troubled city. Jarrod had three handwritten letters from the President of the United States in his procession. It was Jarrod's honor to fulfill his promise to deliver each letter himself. This was his first stop.

"Welcome, Mr. Barkley."

Jarrod stepped from the reception area into the colonel's office. Colonel McConnell was head of troop training for the entire southern sector of the United States. Normally Jarrod would not have been able to get in to see such a busy man except for the letter provided by President Grant.

McConnell was the same age as Jarrod. He was a tall, lean, and made an altogether sharp looking officer. His handshake and look of joy having read the president's letter of introduction left no doubt McConnell remembered Heath. They found their seats and waited until the colonel's staff provided each man a large steaming cup of coffee.

"Thank you for seeing me without an appointment, colonel."

"My pleasure, Mr. Barkley. My pleasure."

McConnell couldn't keep a smile from his face.

"The president states you are Heath Thomson's brother?"

Jarrod laughed slightly at the colonel's confusion.

"Yes! Heath's surname is now Barkley. He lives with my family and I in Stockton, California."

"Heath is all right then? I mean the boy is healthy, happy, and all those normal things."

"Yes," Jarrod couldn't help but smile back at the excited man.

"What a great kid ... Heath. Quiet, efficient, and able to fulfill any mission. What I wouldn't give for a company of Heath Thomsons. Sorry, Barkleys."

They chuckled as each man enjoyed their memories of Heath.

"Great news, Mr. Barkley. You know there are only five of us ... I mean six with Heath."

Jarrod watched the smile leave the colonel's face as he shook his head.

"Actually colonel I was not aware of that fact. I'm sorry to hear it. Everyone heard the tales of McConnell's shooters. You did quite a job with your company."

Jarrod was weaving his magic. Getting the other man to talk, divulge information, trust him and then he would begin to reveal the purpose of his visit.

"Quite a job/" McConnell looked up with a distraught look on his face.

After a moment he continued. Jarrod suddenly felt the other man needed to talk ... Wanted to talk.

"Mr. Barkley, I don't know what Heath has told you ... "

"Nothing, absolutely nothing."

"We left California 120-men strong. I was in two good sharpshooter outfits before, but this was my first command. They were an amazing group. Heath was our best shot. Not a light compliment when you consider the company he was keeping.

"Once I saw Heath take down an enemy rider who was 200 yards away in a full gallop on a windy day. Thought it was a fluke. That boy spent the next year proving me very wrong. "Anyway," the colonel physically shook himself to get back on track, "After Lookout Mountain we numbered less than fifty. After New Mexico my company didn't exist. Over the years I've searched, but it was such a mess after the war and I was hospitalized in Arlington for months.

"We numbered five including myself until you brought me this wonderful news about Heath."

The colonel turned and looked out the window. He leaned back in his chair and took some deep breaths.

"Six out of 120-men in my sharpshooters company. Not a very good record, Mr. Barkley."

"War does horrible things to many people, colonel."

The officer wheeled around and glared at Jarrod, "Yes, Mr. Barkley it does. But my boys fought long and hard while always fulfilling their mission. That was until Rosecrans wasted us ... Left us to Ol'Pete's boys that night. It was slaughter, pure slaughter. I don't know that I'll ever get over the waste. These were ELITE troops who fulfilled every mission given them.

"By God, we fulfilled our mission that night too. But they never came. Rosecrans never reinforced us or broke through the weaknesses we magnified in Alexander's lines," the colonel dropped his eyes to Grant's letter on which his hands were folded.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Barkley. The president instructed me to give you any and all information you needed, plus my assistance. How can I assist you? I'm afraid talking about my company is still a burden and probably will be my entire life."

Jarrod used the moment to play on McConnell's own sense of anger and lack of justice. He weaved Heath's story after being separated from his unit in the New Mexican desert when McConnell's men were split to plug other's manpower needs. He watched McConnell's face as he briefly reviewed the medical reports from Carterson. Then Jarrod Barkley watched as the colonel dropped his eyes and shook with anger hearing about Heath's administrative discharge after being striped of his Silver Star.

The two men talked over possible solutions and the fact Heath's case was only one of many the US Army would prefer stay well hidden. Jarrod quickly sensed what Grant already knew ... David McConnell was a fine officer who knew the army better than most in the service. The colonel was well known and respected. Any internal investigation the army needed to be set into motion to review Heath's and many other records must originate with a man of integrity. McConnell was the man who not only knew the ins and outs of army red tape, but he wouldn't give up on his effort to make the army correct it's errors. Like Jarrod Barkley himself, Colonel David McConnell was now a man in search of justice.

Jarrod freshened up and waited while McConnell took a few moments to put some of his thoughts into written words. They shook hands at the front entrance after Jarrod secured the colonel's letter to Heath safely in his front coat pocket. President Grant certainly was an amazing judge of men.

Much to his surprise McConnell told Jarrod exactly where to find the next man on his list of letters to be delivered. The colonel laughed heartily seeing Jarrod's reaction.

"The war IS over, Mr. Barkley!"

"Yes, but I didn't imagine you would be on friendly terms with THIS particular gentleman."

"Well, than I'll truly surprise you," the colonel dipped his head, smiled, and peeked out watching for Jarrod's reaction, "This PARTICULAR gentleman as you called him is one of my favorite people here in New Orleans or anywhere else for that matter. I don't expect you to understand now ... Wait until you meet him. Let's just say he's a fellow West Pointer who has completely dedicated his life to the creed."

Jarrod shrugged his shoulders and cocked his head showing his lack of understanding.

"DUTY, HONOR, COUNTRY," David McConnell stood at attention and appeared the officer Jarrod felt certain the man was, "He lives what most of us can only dream. Fulfilling our Point creed."

Jarrod was himself a Union army veteran and remembered the fear this man's name used to spread through the lines. As Lee explained after the war "Jackson provided the finesse, but Longstreet was the South's hardest hitter." General Lee's nicknames for the man were "my old war horse" and "the staff in right hand." Soldiers on both sides of the line simply referred to him as ol' Pete.

"Mr. Barkley?"

Jarrod stood to face the large man. At lease 6'2,"210 pounds, light complexion, fair haired, trim, piercing blue eyes, and an obvious military bearing stuffed into a civilian three-piece suit. Pete Longstreet's hand engulfed Jarrod's as his enormous smile generously welcomed his visitor bearing letters from President Grant.

"Good afternoon, general."

Longstreet laughed; it was a wonderful laugh, which drew Jarrod into a smile.

"That was ages ago, Mr. Barkley. A lifetime really. Please call me Pete. Any friend of Sam Grant's is a friend of mine."

Jarrod nodded and followed the man back into his office. His mind tried to comprehend meeting not only the legend, Lee's second-in-command, but the man responsible for the destruction of McConnell's shooters that horrid night on Lookout Mountain. Unsure of Grant's ultimate plan although Jarrod had no reason to doubt the president's direction on his search the attorney seated himself across from James "Pete" Longstreet and settled into their conversation. Evidently Grant thought his best friend would be a key in Jarrod Barkley's search for justice.

President Grant's administration was heading for trouble. Jarrod didn't know how he felt reading the various scandals in the paper. The lawyer found himself very taken with the shy, reflective, and sullen man. No matter what history would write of Grant's presidential years there was no taking away his military record. Jarrod would never forget the privilege of spending time with the man.

And what of the men the president sent Jarrod to see on his search for justice. The purpose of the journey Grant sent him on was only revealed as Jarrod sat on a boat and trains reliving and rethinking the two men the attorney felt honored to have met and spent time conversing with. Whatever history would eventually say about Grant he knew the man to be a deep and caring individual who chose his friends wisely.

David McConnell was an officer on the rise in the US Army. Jarrod visit served many purposes for them both and for their nation. McConnell had a chance to make it to the top in a tedious and at times political quagmire. Along the way Jarrod had no doubt the colonel would initiate new policies to protect young boys from admittance to the armed forces. There would be an internal review of many records including Heath's. What ever come out of this review would probably never be seen by the public.

Grant didn't send Jarrod to McConnell looking for a quick fix of Heath's pitiful treatment. No the wily veteran knew any retort or correction was doubtful to say the least. But the young officers, McConnell and those who would serve under him, needed to see the shame of the events, learn from the army's mistakes, and set about the institution of processes and plans to prevent history from repeating itself.

Jarrod smiled realizing another fact President Grant never spoke, but formulated his plan around. The president could not be the one to point out these mistakes and create a scandal in the press. The army's short-term reaction would be to either drag Heath's record through the mud via the newspapers or throw his brother's medal back and hope the press would quiet on the issue. No long-term change would be created and the damage done might prevent further record review fearing another round of bad press.

The second assignment the president gave Jarrod was much more fun, interesting, and intriguing. Pete Longstreet spent the afternoon, supper, and his evening with Jarrod Barkley. The man also met Jarrod at the train station early the next morning to give the Californian an extremely thick envelope for Heath. Meeting this legend and calling him friend was a distinct honor Jarrod would never forget.

Jarrod closed his eyes and tried once more to review each moment they had together. Earlier on his trip Jarrod actually spent two days taking notes and documenting every word he could remember Longstreet speaking, how he felt while with the man, and what it was like to view the city, the South, and the nation through the eyes of someone who fought brilliantly and unlike Jarrod and his peers now was treated as someone who lost.

It wasn't until Jarrod sat across the desk from Pete Longstreet he realized the poor physical condition of the man. Longstreet's beard hid all but one side of an enormous scar where his throat had been torn open by a bullet. The large man's right shoulder hung slightly lower than the left and his right arm constantly caused him pain. Longstreet wrote with a pencil to decrease the tax on his arm and when he needed to use ink or sign his signature the man meticulously switched to his left hand. The dignity Pete conveyed as he stood tall and strode down the streets of New Orleans never revealing his multiple personal challenges truly moved Jarrod.

When Pete showed up at the train station with his written words for Heath, Jarrod could hardly contain his feelings. To know the personal sacrifice this giant of a man put into the effort to write made each word worth a million to Jarrod. He couldn't wait to share these thoughts with Heath.

Longstreet taught Jarrod so much in their short time together. The things Jarrod learned where known to the president, but Grant knew his best friend was the one to subtly plant the seeds of truth in Jarrod's brain. Jarrod smiled while watching the beauty of California glide by the windows of his train.

At dinner Pete carefully built on the foundation laid in his office. Jarrod reviewed some of Longstreet's remarks while still absorbing their meaning and the dignity of the man who spoke them.

"There is no justice in war, Jarrod," Longstreet held Jarrod's gaze after the lawyer once more reviewed his mission to right the wrong dealt Heath, "War is HELL to quote a famous phrase. You are a veteran and know that to be the understatement it is. Justice is defined by each individual and is an ideal we all need to strive to fulfill throughout our lives. The government uses the legal system in it's cumbersome attempt to define justice, but you of all people have seen the lack of justice in the system of which you've dedicated quite a few years of your life."

Jarrod smiled thinking through so many things Pete shared. The former general absolutely glowed when he spoke of certain subjects in answer to Jarrod's bombardment of questions. The pride was palpable when Longstreet spoke of his own children or his boys, the Army of Northern Virginia's First Corps. Seeing and feeling the general's pride and knowing the honor with which his corps served and yet the destruction they ultimately suffered pushed Longstreet's insistence that no justice existed in war deep into Jarrod's mind.

"War is the ultimate nightmare for any soldier. To be a leader of soldiers you are required to care for the soldiers, but love the army. During a war the army's leaders must be willing to order the death of the thing they love, the men they care for. No justice anywhere in there, Jarrod, simply cold hard fact. The politicians create war and the soldier's pay for their angry words, inability to compromise, and talk of glory with their lives. Once again, no justice, my friend."

Jarrod and Pete discussed their post war roles and many wartime experiences. He distinctly remembered Longstreet's summation of the duty he dedicated his life to fulfill during the recent War Between the States. Longstreet's piercing eyes lost their ever-present twinkle and grew deadly serious as he spoke. The train whistle blew, but the world seemed to stop for a long moment as Jarrod listened intently to words very close to Longstreet's soul.

"War however defined is a vile thing. No one hates war more than a soldier does. Jarrod, I have been a soldier my entire life. Yes, the newspapers will editorialize what happened, when, and why for years. Folks will sit and write books, speakers will speak, and the historians will analyze every detail over and over for years continuing long after you and I are no more than dust in the wind," Pete's steely stare revealed his deep belief in the words he conveyed, his low voice continued, "The old men talked of the glory of the war. The politicians talked of the absolute need of the war. Over and over I read, heard, and was assured by the politicians that the war simply must be fought." The man took a deep breath and gathered himself, "Through those years of hell I dedicated myself to one constant and one constant only ... My boys. It didn't matter to them what was being thought, written, or spoken about the war. All my boys wanted was for me to get them home."

Jarrod blinked hard and shook slightly as a shiver once more raced up his spine. Grant didn't send him to see Longstreet for Heath's benefit. Oh yes the former army veteran could speak of the army honestly and provide a wealth of information to guide Jarrod through mile after mile of red tape. And although Jarrod didn't know it that is exactly what Pete would do during the next eighteen years as Jarrod continued his quest to right the wrong done to his youngest brother.

Grant sent Jarrod to see his best friend for Jarrod's own sake. Jarrod learnt many lessons from a man scorned, shunned, and spit at on the street by his own people for the sin of stating the obvious "the South lost." Pete was dedicating whatever years he had left in his life to preventing the build up of hatred. Pete could not fathom allowing the hatred to reach the point of once more causing one American to kill another American. Longstreet taught Jarrod the fact justice is an individual lifelong quest. What is fair, what is right, and what is possible rarely if ever has anything to do with justice. Every man must decide if they want to walk the high road, do the right thing, and never, ever, expect justice to come with the road you dedicate your life to walking.

The train pulled up to the station in Stockton. Jarrod peeked out and felt a twinge of nerves. He saw the Barkley ranch buggy with what appeared a large picnic basket loaded in the back as he requested in his last telegram. It would be a long and hopefully good afternoon with his brother, Heath. Jarrod's telegram requested only Heath meet his train with supplies for a picnic dinner. The two brothers would actually not return to the ranch until long after supper that evening. They had much to discuss and although Jarrod feared Heath's initial reaction he couldn't wait to relate the people, places, events, and lessons he had to share.

The train stopped and Jarrod stepped out while handing the porter the ticket for his bags. He looked around the crowded platform patting his jacket pocket one more time to reassure himself the treasures remained safe. His heart was in his throat wondering what Heath's reaction was to the letter he sent ahead detailing his search and promising to share all he learnt. For a moment Jarrod felt a pinch of panic unsure it was his youngest brother who even brought the buggy to the station.

"Jarrod!"

He turned to see the young blonde running his way after breaking away from a conversation with the Anderson family further down the platform. Jarrod waved and took a few steps towards his brother letting Heath's smile build his hopes the younger man was not angry Jarrod engaged in the search on his behalf.

"Jarrod, I thought you'd never get here. I've missed you, big brother."

Heath and Jarrod shook hands. When their eyes met Heath saw the hesitation he knew Jarrod might be feeling after sending his heart-wrenching letter. The young man forever erased any doubt and pulled his brother into a strong embrace. They would never again doubt their feelings for each other.

Jarrod Barkley's search for justice ended that afternoon as he and Heath talked the day away. There may be no justice in war, but their was in being honest with someone you loved and finding gratitude, love, respect, and years of friendship in return. Jarrod would never stop fighting for what was right nor would he ever stop being grateful his search lead him home to Stockton and a closer relationship with a young blonde brother in whom he held enormous pride.

Jarrod still couldn't get over the pride he felt and the honor. As he watched and waited for the official ceremonies to begin Jarrod reviewed their trip thus far. After arriving in Tennessee Jarrod and his younger brother spent three days riding and walking through the lush landscape of Chattanooga, Tennessee while delighting in the time they shared on the top of Lookout Mountain. The view was spectacular and Jarrod could easily imagine the events which took place in the area twenty-seven years before.

The reception last night was amazing. Heath never wavered from the first moment the Presidential invitation arrived in Stockton. Despite Jarrod's protests and attempts to insist his youngest brother's wife, Beth, fill the one guest allotted slot Heath stubbornly insisted it was Jarrod he wanted at his side. Sitting talking to old army friends the lawyer hadn't seen since the end of the war, spending a long afternoon catching up with his frequent correspondence friend, Pete Longstreet, and watching Heath blush each time the large group fussed over his presence filled Jarrod with a pride he would never be able to properly explain when they got home.

Finally the official ceremonies to dedicate the park were almost over. President Benjamin Harrison eloquently declared this to now and forever be a place for Americans to enjoy while reflecting on the men who consecrated the soil with their blood, sweat, and tears during the Civil War. The president congratulated the multitude of people responsible for the first of what he hoped would be many national parks of this kind. The Chickamauga and Chattanooga National Military Park was finally a reality.

Then the president took a solemn moment to review Heath Barkley's service record. Jarrod could see Heath straining to handle the revealing of very personal information in a terribly public way. Jarrod knew his brother would be too embarrassed and nervous to hear the gasps and sense of awe the president's words created throughout the large crowd. Jarrod was also sure his own heart was about to leap out his throat.

Finally the president called Heath to the front of the podium. Jarrod smiled thinking how lucky blondes were ... Heath's gray/white hair simply blended in. How handsome the cowboy looked at the ripe old age of forty. Jarrod would often picture his youngest brother as he looked this day for the rest of his life.

"Mr. Barkley," President Harrison turned and offered his hand, "I am honored to present you with these papers declaring you an honorably discharged veteran of the United States Army. A grateful nation thanks you for your faithful, honorable, and dedicated service during a time of grave need."

Heath accepted the papers with his head bowed and returned the president's strong handshake. The president whispered a few personal messages in his ear and then pointed for Heath to stay in place next to him. The president turned back to the podium.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I fought long and hard for the privilege of bestowing the next honor on Mr. Barkley, but the army out maneuvered me!"

The crowd roared with laughter and Jarrod smiled seeing Heath try to take a step back. President Harrison slipped his arm on Heath's shoulder and steadied him beside the podium.

"I'd like to once again bring General David McConnell to the podium."

The crowd respectfully clapped as the handsome general in full dress uniform returned to center stage. The president stood a few steps back while the general read the official announcement written in typical army language. They waited until the general took some deep breaths to hear the personal message he added before turning to face Heath.

"I have rarely been present let alone involved in an act which has filled me with such enormous pride. As many of you know my company, McConnell's shooters as we were then called, served far above and beyond the call of duty. Not a day of my life passes without reviewing my men's names and faces. As you heard Heath Barkley was only fourteen when he served his nation with dedication, valor, and bravery far beyond the abilities of men two and three times his age. I know I speak for many including our late president, Ulysses S. Grant, when I admit this day is far overdue."

The crowd seemed to hold their breath feeling the moment and respecting it with absolute silence. General McConnell turned crisply and took the blue neck ribbon out of the box the president held open. He stepped forward and with a smile offered Heath a personal message before taking another step and placing the Silver Star around Heath's neck. They shook hands and the crowd stood clapping and cheering.

The general turned Heath to the crowd after the president once more shook his hand. Somehow in the midst of the wonderful moment a connection between the two brothers was made. Heath searched the crowd for Jarrod's eyes and stood proudly then nodded to the man whose eighteen years of work led to this glorious day. It was a moment neither Barkley would ever forget.

Chickamauga was considered the last major Confederate victory in the Western Theater. Longstreet's First Corps was lent to General Braxton Bragg by General Robert E. Lee and immediately upon their arrival smashed through the Union lines and threatened to continue moving until they controlled a large portion of the Ohio River Valley. But it was a hollow victory as General Bragg refused to reinforce and move forward forcing weeks of slaughter as each army struggled back and forth across the same lines. Control of Chattanooga was ultimately regained by the Federals two months later when General U.S. Grant moved his enormous army into the area and took over operations.