Changes and Separations - 1862

Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the TV program "Big Valley" are the creations of Four Star/Republic Pictures and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.

The events which occur around us can be compared to an onion; the larger, more comprehensive layers farther from the core, while inner layers are smaller, closer, more intimate. The events of that Christmastime was the inside layers of the Barkley's world, Jarrod's plan to become a lawyer, the death of their friend Maggie Owens. But once these events resolved themselves into something resembling history, the outside layers came into view. And those outside layers could not be ignored, for the new year, 1862, had just begun, and the world that the Barkleys and their friends knew was tearing itself apart.

Nine months before the first shots at Ft. Sumter's had been fired and hysteria, jubilation and patriotism had taken over Stockton during the spring. It had been hard for some. There were many in the valley who had been born in the South. Army officers stationed around the state had resigned to join the Confederate Army. Some neighbors had returned as well. Thousands of men in California had joined the Union Army. But instead of fighting rebs, they were now chasing Indians around the plains.

Men who stayed at home had their reasons. Patriotism was one thing, but they had ranches to run. For those who had chosen their side, whatever could be done was done to help the war effort. If that meant making money in the meantime, so much the better.

But News Year's Day was a time to rest and visit friends. This year it fell on a Wednesday, which brought a break in the work week. The tradition was well established; a leisurely day, with a potluck meal so no one's wife had to work extra hard, then good liquor and conversation. This year it was the Barkley's turn to invite their friends. As soon as the necessary chores were done, the neighbors put their wives, children and the edibles into their buggies and headed for the Barkley ranch.

The Delands were first. Cyrus managed the Barkley's fledgling shipping line and wanted a few moments to talk business. He was from Missouri. His father owned a shipping company on the Missouri river at St. Charles. Cyrus had been caught up in the Gold Rush madness and traveled west ten years ago. He had little luck at mining, but was too stubborn to return home in disgrace. A chance meeting with Tom in a mining camp proved providential. Tom had wanted to expand into shipping, but lacked the time and the expertise, Cyrus had time and expertise to give. His wife, Rebecca and two daughters accompanied him.

The Miles came next. Tom and Victoria had known them since their first days in the valley. They had left northeastern Virginia years before to come west. Wally was full of Virginian charm and was quite an admirer of the ladies. Jenny was close to Victoria's age, but the couple had only one child, a frail boy of six named Evan. Tom and Victoria greeted the couple warmly, then watched Evan scamper up the stairs with Eugene, Audra and the Deland girls.

The Parkers followed. Matthew Parker was a forty-niner from Illinois who also found little success in the mine camps. He did find a knack for trading, and soon ran a booming freight company between Stockton and the southern mines. But farming and livestock were in his blood, and about eight years previously he had sold his business and put together a spread. He felt that town life was no way to raise sons. His wife, Sarah, would have disagreed had she the temerity to stand up to her husband. Instead, the Parkers moved to their ranch where Mrs. Parker was trying to raise three exuberant, rambunctious sons. Mr. and Mrs. Parker were still chatting in the front hallway when the sound of horses could be heard. Expecting no one else, Tom and Victoria went to the door to see who was coming.

The next arrivals were a surprise. Lysander Owens and his family arrived on horseback. In past years their presence would have been automatic, but it had been barely two weeks since Maggie's death. Drew said simply. "We can't hide forever. The family needs to get out." That Drew needed to get out was probably a better answer. He was too gregarious, too fond of company and conversation to find mourning acceptable for long. Drew would tell others that mourning was a private thing, and had nothing to do with everyday life.

They were on horseback. One would have expected Drew or the eldest son Jamie to be driving the buggy for an eleven-year-old girl. But Katy was dressed for riding on that chilly day, astride her oversized horse. Hanging back from the others, she looked like a doll upon the animal, and an unhappy one at that.

The family dismounted. Drew and the middle son, Danny, came up the steps while Jamie and Katy hovered over saddlebags. They followed a minute later, carrying jars of apple sauce, spiced peaches, pickles and olives. "This is for later," Katy said. The young girl looked listless and drawn.

"Why don't you follow me to the kitchen, Katy?" Victoria said, after the greetings had ended. Jamie handed over the jars he held to Victoria, and the woman and child walked toward the kitchen.

"This is very generous, Katy, but you know this wasn't necessary." Victoria said as she set down the jars she carried.

"Mama wouldn't have come empty-handed." Katy said flatly, and she emptied the items from her arms onto the counter. "I don't know how to cook anything for a party."

"But your mother certainly could, and will be a nice way to remember her. " Victoria paused and turned to the sullen girl. "How are you doing, Katy?"

"All right, I guess." She said without emotion. She looked up at Victoria and said quickly. "I didn't want to come, but Pa said I couldn't stay at home. He's mad at me, 'cause I didn't want to ride in a buggy. On a horse I don't have to talk to anyone."

"Katy, don't feel bad because you had to come. It's not a big party, just neighbors coming to spend the afternoon and evening." Victoria put her hands on Katy's shoulders. "Now whys don't you go upstairs and say hello to the children. Eugene and Audra would love to see you."

Katy nodded and started up the kitchen stairs. Just as she was disappearing out of view, a cheerful voice said, "Hi, Katy!" and then Nick came bounding down the steps, taking half as many steps as stairs. He didn't even bother using the steps of the lower landing. He landed both feet on the floor with a thud and strode over to where his mother was standing.

Nick quickly inspected the bounty. "From the Owens? Can I open the olives?" Nick started to reach for them, only to have his hand slapped by his mother's.

"No, because there won't be any left by the time dinner is ready if you start on them now."

"How long 'til dinner?"

"You just ate!"

"Three hours ago!" Nick said in earnest.

His mother just shook her head. "Get some roast from the larder if you must eat."

As Nick went in search of food, Victoria looked over her middle son quickly. He had reached the age where changes come suddenly. It seemed to her that Jarrod had matured more quietly. One day she had looked and her eldest son towered over her, talked in an adult voice, and needed a shave. Nick however, was making a noisy business of growing up. For starters, his voice creaked on a regular basis. He outgrew his clothes after practically every wearing. Nick needed a hair cut too, she noticed, as the uncontrolled brown hair tumbled down his forehead.

He returned with a piece of meat in hand, more in his mouth. Then another youthful voice called, "Nick?"

"In here, Dan."

"Nick, please lower your voice, there are guests here!"

"But Dan won't hear me."

"Then go find him instead."

"Yes Ma'am," he said as he turned to leave, and promptly ran into Danny Owens and the two younger Parkers tailing behind. Suddenly the kitchen seemed very small.

Danny Owens was 14 and Nick Barkley was only a few months younger in age.

Adolescence had given them the freedom to journey away from their homes, and whenever their chores were finished they were off together trying to stay out of trouble. Separately they had already earned reputation as pranksters, together, they were a dangerous pair. Ross and Worth Parker lived on the other side of Stockton, too distant to be regular companions. The boys knew each other from school and special events.

"Hi Nick!" Voices spoke out at once. Then Danny eyed the meat. "Hey, any of that left?"

Nick quickly eyed his mother looking for a warning sign. When none was returned, he said, "Sure! Follow me," and the youths went off to demolish the rest of the leftover roast.

Victoria looked at them, shook her head, and left the kitchen to rejoin her guests.

Young Matt Parker was about the same age as Jarrod, and they had become friends in their teenage years. But Jarrod hadn't seen him during the Christmas holiday until the previous night at a New Year's Eve engagement. Jamie Owens had not attended, out of respect for his mother, and only came today to stop a father/son argument before it was started. The three adjourned to the quiet of the library for conversation and a libation. As Jarrod was pouring out the first round, Matt spoke.

"Jarrod, what's this I hear about you being a lawyer?"

Jamie shot a glance at Jarrod, who calmly handed over Matt's drink. "Well, I have to get through law school first."

Matt took his glass and laughed. "Which is just a small bump in the road, knowing you? But what's the idea? I would think there's enough to do around here." He strolled over and took a seat. "I bet your Pa hit the roof when he heard that news."

Jarrod had made his case with his parents. To him, they were the only ones who he needed to convince. Last night, however, the news had become general knowledge. Many in the valley would soon hold Matt's opinion; the oldest son of a successful rancher had better things to do.

Jamie had been privy to Jarrod's plan. However, his own family concerns had taken over and he had not heard the aftermath. So he asked, "Yes, Jarrod, how did you finally manage it? It is obvious that these walls are still standing."

"I convinced my father he needed a good lawyer," Jarrod said simply.

Jamie's eyes lit up, and there was laughter in his voice. "Ah, the master of the understatement! Well, then, consider me your second client when you finally hang out your shingle. If you can win a case that easily, you will have a brilliant future."

Jarrod, now confident in his decision, and flattered by his friend's faith said, "Old Wiggins is the Calaveras' lawyer, Jamie."

"He's my father's lawyer, and I will prefer someone less petrified, thank you."

"Well, I'll remember you when I want to sue someone," Matt said.

"Thanks for that vote of confidence," Jarrod said with a laugh.

The atmosphere changed with Matt's next words. "But Jarrod, how can you think of school and books with this war going on?"

There followed an uncomfortable silence, for the subject wasn't new and it also wasn't welcomed. When the first call for volunteers had come the previous April, both Jarrod and Matt had been too young to enlist, being just seventeen. Jamie, however, was old enough, but inscrutable reasoning told him that this war was not his business. Like many other Californians, Jamie saw the conflict as an eastern war. The more radical of these had wanted to turn the Pacific coast into its own country. Jamie wasn't radical, nor was he even political, the young man just had his views and he stood by them with a stubbornness that others found hard to understand. Those views also drove his father, a staunch Yankee from upper New York, to distraction.

Jarrod had returned to school and tried to concentrate on his books. By his eighteenth birthday, the sobering news of Bull Run had made him look again at the world around him. Perhaps he was hiding behind his studies, but all he could see was how ineffective his contribution would be.

But Matt, like many of his eastern brethren, saw the war as a great cause and adventure. That the war was still going on at Christmas didn't dissuade him, it just meant he still had a chance to get into the action.

Jamie broke the silence. "Now Matt, I would have thought by now you'd have seen the light. If you enlist now, all you will see is sand and Indians."

Matt was swelling with news. "Not me, I am joining an Illinois regiment. An old friend of my Pa's is the colonel."

"You have to get there first."

"Yep, leaving for Panama on a steamer next week. I have to go all the way to New York first though, then take a train back to Illinois. Just can't sail into New Orleans and tell them I'm off to fight Johnny Reb."

"You're set on this?" Jarrod asked.

"Sure am! I figured to get with a cavalry unit. Figured I would show those eastern boys a thing or two about a riding horse."

"While they show you a thing or two about fighting a war," Jamie replied sardonically.

Matt was not impressed with Jamie's humor. He was up and walking across the room, the color high on his pale face. "Now you wait just a minute!"

Jarrod's stomach clenched as he saw the beginnings of a fight. But it was stopped almost immediately by the sound of a female voice.

"Boys, you better get washed up, dinner is about ready." Jenny Miles said as looked into the room. The young men were still of an age where they responded to the authority of an adult. The tension broke immediately, and the three filed out of the room to wash before dinner. But Jenny Miles was no fool, she knew she broke up an argument. It seemed to her that all the men did any more was argue; it was the fault of the war. Why would the boys be any different?

The dinner hour came and adults and children laid waste to the proffered delicacies. It wasn't a sit-down meal. Instead, tables have been set up in the hall between the kitchen and dining room, where the buffet had been spread. Cold roast beef and ham were sliced and ready at one end, as well as Jenny Miles' fried chicken. Mrs. Parker brought her baked beans, laced with molasses and salt pork, still warm in the heavy earthen crock. There were potato salad, candied carrots, black-eyed peas, tortillas and corn bread. Victoria warmed up the last spiced peaches Maggie Owens ever made. The peaches made a good side to the ham. For drink there was apple cider, beer, and the coldest milk anyone could ever want.

With loaded plates, the neighbors would take their accustomed places. The children were consigned to the kitchen, the ladies sat in comfort in the dining room, the men spread out around the drawing room. Danny and Nick and the two younger Parkers, somewhere between child and adulthood, defined their spot by eating on the stairs. There they were closest to the food.

The men's conversation had stayed general, much having to do with ranching and mining. They touched on the gold and silver strike in Nevada the year before, at a place called Virginia City. As the dinner finished and a brandy bottle made an appearance, the conversation turned to ranching, speculation about the upcoming year, and what would the war do to their businesses.

Tom Barkley was speaking: "The army has to feed all of those recruits, so I can see that we will have a profitable summer. It's a good time to take the extra and light fires in other places."

Wally Miles said. "Like what Tom? You have cattle with your brand on them, mines carrying your name, there are even Barkley boats on the river. Don't you ever get tired of looking at your name?"

Tom laughed warmly. "Wally, you know about keeping your eggs in one basket. It's just a matter of protecting one's interest. Sure, there will be demands for beef and boot leather, but what happens when this war is over? I may be stuck with extra cattle and low prices, but I don't want to sink because of it."

Matthew Parker, Sr. said, "Good point Tom, so what are you eyeing these days?"

"The valley keeps growing, opportunity is everywhere. I don't think it would be amiss to get some timber down here. Stockton will need it."

"Are you looking for investors, Tom?" Drew Owens asked.

"Drew, perhaps, now I'm just looking. In the meantime, you keep your ear to the ground in Sacramento. Just remember, that you have some curious cattlemen here."

Drew laughed. "Well, I won't have to get down that low now, with the news I received on Monday," he replied.

Cyrus Deland now joined the conversation. "Now whatever do you mean. Drew?"

"Well, I've been requested by the Governor to take up a commission with the state militia. He wants me there next Monday."

The others were quiet for a moment. "Doing what?" Tom asked.

"Overseeing recruitment, placement of troops, and paper shuffling, I guess."

Jamie, who had been in the corner and quiet, piped in. "You can call him Colonel Owens, and don't forget to salute." His father did not appreciate the humor.

"I thought you were going up to represent our cattlemen's association. So what happens with that?" Wally Miles said.

Drew turned to him. "Well, nothing as far as I can see, neither one of them is a full-time job, and you certainly won't suffer with me on the inside. Look, the Governor's not a fool, I am the best qualified man for the post, and for the association too," he replied.

The men looked at each other. All of them knew some of Drew's history. He had graduated from West Point. Lysander Owens was ex-Captain, U.S. Corps of Engineers. But he had resigned as soon as possible after promotion to captain because army life was too dull and confining. He was a man of his time, too restless to stay put when he could be somewhere else. Drew was a sometime horse breeder, vintner, mine owner, an amateur geologist of some renown, and a former county supervisor and a general politico. His varied interests kept him from home, which had propelled his nearly-grown son into management of their spread at an early age.

This had suited Jamie fine, for father and son had little in common.

Tom looked at him and said, "You're burning both ends of a candle, Drew, and it smells like a conflict of interest."

Drew flashed his smile. "Tom, look. I'm going anyway, they need my skills, and you all won't be neglected. Trust me. Besides, its war time, we can't always keep to the rules."

Cyrus Deland had been quiet, but finally spoke. "And what are you defending the state against, Drew?"

Drew continued. He had heard the words and not the tone of Cyrus' voice.

"Federal troops are running thin around here, and after that Confederate scare down by Los Angeles last month, the Governor doesn't want to take chances."

Tom now spoke. The signs of trouble were present in the room. He took his job as host seriously. "We might be on the other side of a continent, be we do feel this conflict deeply."

Drew added, "in some ways we will feel it intimately. Most Northerners don't have Southerners as neighbors."

Both Cyrus and Wally bristled at the words. "And what do you mean by that?" Wally asked.

Drew looked at him and said coolly. "It is hard to hear yourself think around here, with so many people from different parts of the country around here, all yelling as loud as they can about what they think is right. But order has to be maintained, and the Union protected from her enemies."

That statement hardly settled Cyrus. He was turning red.

At that moment, the tone of this conversation was too familiar to Jarrod, Matt and Jamie. They had dropped their unresolved argument, and had no desire to live through another. So as the discussion heated up, they looked at each other, and made a quick exit from the room.

While the tempers were mounting in the living room, ladies cleared plates and settled down to drink coffee. Katy had diligently watched over the children during their meal, and now the boys played with their wooden horses and the girls their dolls. She desperately wanted to escape and be alone.

She came down the front staircase. Katy could see the men gathered in the front room, her father in a heated discussion with one of them. To her left, she saw Jamie and Jarrod leaving by the front door. To her right were the sounds of dishes and women talking. She headed for the one room that she hoped was empty. She had also hoped that no one had noticed her, but she was wrong.

The fire in the library had been lit, but it had burnt down, and no lights were on. The noise and voices were muffled when she closed the heavy doors. She noticed half-empty glasses and sniffed. It was that peaty smell, Jamie and Jarrod had been here, drinking Scotch. She walked away from the glasses and settled into the sofa.

This was her favorite room in the Barkley house, wood-paneled and filled with books. The French doors at either end rewarded one with a view of the drive, or of the kitchen garden in back. During the summer, when the doors were open, one could smell dill, lavender and rosemary in the room. Now, with windows closed against the cool day, Katy could curl up in the corner of the sofa and stare into what was left of the fire. She was finally alone.

Only when she was alone did she allow herself to grieve. Katy and her mother had become so close this last year, the older woman dependent on the child. Katy missed her mother horribly and now felt useless and unloved. She didn't understand her father, who had stayed away from a sick wife, yet cried uncontrollably on her death, and now seemed so distant and uncaring. All that her father could think about was Sacramento now, and wanted nothing to do with the past. Jamie had tried to explain, but he had an adult's mind which could rationalize away the pain. She didn't.

Being here didn't help. At these gatherings the other mothers were happy to see her. With the younger children, she organized games and told stories. She could keep them occupied and stop the quarrels before the adults got involved. But eventually, she would leave the others to go in search of her mother, to sit at her feet, and lean against her knee. She would care little for the conversation of the other women, it was the sound of her mother's responses that she would want to hear. Now, there was no voice.

The door opened, and the sound startled Katy. She turned to look, and saw Victoria Barkley in the doorway. Instantly, Katy felt the heat of embarrassment and slid out of the seat.

Victoria stopped her as Katy tried to leave. "You don't have to go, Katy. I thought I would come share the quiet with you." She turned the child around, put her arms around her, and they walked back to the sofa together.

They sat on the sofa, the child again closest to the fire, and indeed for several moments they did share the quiet. Then Victoria spoke.

"Katy, it helps to cry or talk, then do so. Don't keep it in."

Katy just shrugged her shoulders. "I've done enough crying, and how can talking help?"

Victoria reached out for the child, and put her arm around her. Katy didn't fight it. "Talking always helps, airing the pain seems to make it go away."

"I miss her," is all that Katy could say.

"Of course you do. There is nothing wrong with that. But each day you will miss her a little less, and you will hurt a little less. It just takes time."

"It didn't take that long for anybody else. They all act like nothing happened."

"Now Katy, you know that isn't true. But people grieve in different ways. And grownups can't spend all their time grieving. I know your father misses her, but he has many things on his mind. Jamie has his own worries. And you know Danny missed her. He cried enough to flood the house."

Katy smiled at that comment. Victoria knew it was rather irreverent, but it helped to bolster the young girl' s self-esteem, though at her brother's expense. Katy now spoke.

"We're going to Sacramento, Danny and me. Father has to work there, and he says that we have to go. He said I will be so busy with a new school and friends that I won't notice her being gone."

Victoria had to agree. "It's not a bad idea, Katy. You like school, and it will be a new place, and more children your age too." For some unexplained reason none of the ranchers had girls her age. Katy's friends were girls from Stockton, school friends who shared desks and giggled together on the playground. But she saw them rarely otherwise, sometimes only once or twice during the summer, when she could accompany an older family member to town. During the summers, she would tag along with Dan and Nick on occasion. But Danny didn't always want his sister around, firmly believing she would tell tales. Nick, however, didn't mind, because she never whined and wasn't afraid of trying anything. But for the most part Katy kept to herself. Living in a town may be what the girl needed.

"It's just 'til summer, then we can come back. I guess I don't mind. I will miss Jamie though. He is staying here."

"Well, he has to run the ranch, and that's a lot for him to do."

Suddenly, there was gunfire outside. Katy jumped, but Victoria hugged her. "There is nothing to worry about. The boys are outside shooting at cans."

Katy's eyes lit up. "Can I go watch?"

Victoria looked at her. At that moment she saw more animation in Katy than she had all day. Katy's mother probably wouldn't have approved, but it was better than moping in the library. "Be careful and pay attention to the boys. And put your coat on, so you don't chill."

Katy impulsively gave her a big hug. "We leave Monday, I'm gonna miss you."

Victoria felt a tug in her heart. So many changes, and so few clues to whether the changes were for the good. She hugged the girl back. "I will miss you too."

The young men of the Calaveras Farms and the Barkley Ranch were renewing a

contest held many times before. Target practice was serious business, and these boys had been handling and shooting guns since they were old enough to withstand the recoil. They all had started with rifles, hunting rabbits and rattlesnakes. But only recently had Danny and Nick been allowed to fire pistols. Jamie was very accomplished, and had held the blue ribbon at the San Joaquin County Fair for two years running. He was setting his sights on the state fair, where last year he could only manage fifth. Jarrod was comparable, but would vex his friend by refusing to compete; he would show off cattle at the fair, not himself.

Nick had received a pistol for Christmas, and could hardly bear to be inside. Jarrod's stubbornness over the competition made him crazy, and he was determined to remove the "cloud" from the family name. He was eager, but needed to polish his skills. Danny was the weakest at target practice. Matt Parker was not a regular at these neighborly meets, but like all ranching men, knew how to handle a gun. The two younger Parkers had been banned by their parents from the competition, and to had to be content with cheering for their brother.

First was a warm-up, then each would shoot until he missed a can. The one with the highest number of hits won. There was even money riding on it today. Five silver dollars sat in a pile on the ground.

Katy was walking to the side corral as Nick was finishing his round. He hit about half of the cans that stood on the back fence. Jarrod, Matt and Jamie were leading back against the corral, shaking their heads. At their feet was a bushel basket full of empty cans. These items were prized at both ranches. No can was thrown into the rubbish pit until there was more air than tin left. Years before, there had been a shortage of empty cans. Jarrod had promptly gone for the larder for filled ones.

He and Jamie were admiring how the beans burst into the air after a can was struck and were on the fourth can when Tom caught them. He delivered a tongue-lashing that neither had forgot. Hence the bushel basket.

Katy hopped onto the fence next to Jamie and sat astride it. Jamie had just said, "Hey Moppet!" when Nick finished his last shot, a miss.

"Nick, would you slow down!" Jarrod called out, exasperated at the energetic but faulty display. "Learn how to hit them first, then get faster! It doesn't work the other way around!"

"Yeah, yeah, all right." Nick grumbled as he came to grab some cans. His last chore was to set them up for the next shooter.

Jamie loved to stoke any fire he could see between the brothers. "You should listen to your big brother, Nick. Rumor has it he can actually hit one once in a while."

Everyone but Jarrod found this exceedingly funny. But he had a way of silencing the crowd. Jarrod started firing as soon as Nick returned to the near side of the corral. Six bullets, one following another, six cans lay on the ground.

"Nick," he said, "you can tell Jamie it isn't a rumor."

The youths started laughing again, Katy especially. She had tears in her eyes because she loved to see her big brother get his comeuppance. Jamie turned and saw her laughing, and smiled. She hadn't laughed so hard in weeks.

"Okay, Miss Kathleen, get down here and see if you can hit one."

She stopped in mid-laugh. "I don't know how to fire one of those things."

Jarrod went off to set up the cans, as Danny said. "Come on Sis, it's about time you learned."

Katy shook her head. "Pa will skin me if he catches me shooting a gun."

Jamie lifted her off of the fence and plopped she on ground. "Not if you learn right," he said.

The two younger Parkers look at each other, disheartened. They would dearly love to get a chance, but their pa had said, "No!" in a tone which would accept no argument.

Jarrod returned, and Jamie walked Katy over to position. He handed her his gun. It was surprisingly heavy, and Katy felt her knees buckle. She caught herself, but heard Nick giggle. She shot a glance at him. Nick stopped laughing, but it was too late. She was determined. As stubborn as the rest, she would not be laughed at.

Jamie, standing behind her, positioned the gun in her hand and held it steady. He was explaining what to do. Katy listened, taking in every word.

"All right, now arms out like this, put both hands on the gun. This one here. No, that won't work. Oh, Lefty, what are we to do with you?" He shifted to the other side. "Now look through the sights and down the barrel. Keep both eyes open, you will misjudge if you close one. Aim low, remember the recoil will pull your arms up. Ready?"

"Ready!"

"Pull the hammer back. Use your left thumb. Now remember, you squeeze the trigger, not pull it." Jamie crouched down, so he could get a better sight along the gun. He braced himself, and with one more look down the barrel said. "Go!"

She squeezed the trigger. It was surprisingly easy. Then it fired, the boom reverberating through her ears. She felt her arms start to fly up, but were held taut by her brother's. Katy had closed her eyes automatically when the gun went off. She opened them now. The can was missing. She could hear people clapping.

Jarrod laughed. "You're one up on Nick. He missed his first can by five feet, and landed in the dirt too."

"Hey, she had help!" Nick protested.

"Do you want to try one on your own?" Jamie asked.

Katy nodded, her face flushed with excitement.

She turned to face the cans again. She closed her eyes for a minute to still her heart. It was beating wildly.

Katy was not a tomboy by nature. But when the only childhood companions one saw regularly were boys, one had to make adjustments. She did love horses, and could ride as well as any of them. She could climb trees, catch a fish with her hands, and could walk a corral fence. That talent was hers alone. Nick had tried it once and fell into the horse trough.

She steadied herself. In her mind she was reviewing everything Jamie said. He had backed off about three feet behind her. She was on her own.

She fired the gun. This time there was nothing to restrain her arms. She felt the full effect of the recoil and was sent flying backwards toward Jamie. Even though he was prepared, her momentum flung them both to the ground. When the dust settled, she was sitting on his lap.

Everyone else was laughing helplessly. Nick was hitting the side of the fence. Katy looked at her brother, who was rather breathless. She had knocked some of the wind from him. She turned quickly to look at the can. It was missing.

When she turned back, Jamie was grinning. "You keep practicing, and I'll be competing against you some day."

Her face was glowing with excitement. But she handed the gun to her brother, who immediately put on the safety catch. "I don't think so," she said. "I'll be bruised from tip to toe."

They sat for a moment and looked at each other. After her mother, Jamie was the favorite person in her life. And now she was going away. She wouldn't see him for months. And he could read her mind. "It's not forever, Moppet," he said, and then hugged her.

Jarrod felt something catch in his throat. He was leaving in two days, back to school, and to prepare for entrance exams to the law school. He was anxious to get started, yet hated leaving. It was always the same.

Jarrod turned away from brother and sister and instead found Nick looking at him. Nick said, "It's gonna be mighty quiet around here with everyone gone."

Jarrod replied with a smile. "No, it won't. You'll be here, and you don't need anyone's help to rattle the windows."

Danny looked at the others, and could only shake his head. He couldn't wait for Monday. He wanted to get to a town, action, people. Some place where he didn't have to clean horse stalls, or stack hay. He had no taste for rural life.

Katy and Jamie pulled themselves to their feet. Matt, unmoved and impatient, called out, "Are you going to practice, or shall we just start?"

"We'll start, but Katy has to put up her cans first." He hardly had to say it. She was across the corral in a flash.

The serious competition started. Danny was done after three cans, claiming he was bored. Nick concentrated as hard as he could and cleared five. The sixth bullet had gone so close that the can moved, but didn't fall. Nick was dejected, but his big brother greeted him with an arm around his shoulder, "Good shooting, Nick."

It was now to the three older ones. They had drawn straws among them, and Matt was first. Eighteen cans sat on the fence. As Matt prepared for his turn, the boys realized they had an audience.

The men had come out from the house. The conversation was getting too intense, and Tom, ever the host and peacemaker, suggested they see how the boys were doing. In an effort to break the tension between Cyrus, Wally and Drew, which had increased with every exchange, Tom had suggested a friendly little bet. Drew, Tom and Matthew placed bet on their sons. Wally, who normally would have taken a sure bet with Jamie, put money on Jarrod. Cyrus was not a betting man.

Matt begun. Jamie was loading the other revolver for him. He emptied two pistols, but thirteen was not a lucky number for him, the thirteenth can be stayed on the fence.

Now it was Jamie's turn. Matt lined up the cans, he put twenty-four cans up on the fence. Jamie laughed. "I didn't plan to work this hard on a holiday." Jarrod loaded the pistols.

Number thirteen was lucky for Jamie, but number eighteen was not. That is where he stopped. Jamie shrugged his shoulders; he normally could clear twenty. But he received appreciative applause from the men, as well as from a group a little farther back. The ladies and the children had come to watch as well.

Katy, who now sat next to Nick and Dan, turned back to look. She waved at Audra, Eugene and the other children, waited for their return wave, and contentedly turned back. For once she wasn't with the little ones.

Finally, the cans were replaced. There were still twenty-four on the fence. The air was filling with anticipation, but nothing registered on Jarrod's face. He was composed, ignorant of the noise around. He started his round.

The first six went without a hitch. He changed guns with Matt, who was loading for him. The next three were clean, but tenth was wild. The can was skimmed, wiggled, then finally fell. There was a collective sigh of relief.

Jarrod, realizing that he just got lucky, renewed his concentration. The next two were clean, and he waited for the third gun. Matt was a little slow with this one, just enough to increase the tension for the spectators.

In the pause Victoria moved to stand next to her husband. He looked at her and smiled. Then surreptitiously Tom reached for her hand, Victoria clasped it and hid it in the folds of her skirt. They couldn't help but be proud of their son, but it was a feeling that they wanted to share quietly. It had been a momentous couple of weeks for parents and son.

An excited Wally Miles yelled, "Clean 'em up, Jarrod!"

Finally, Jarrod had the gun in his hand. He found the whole situation rather odd, a time-killer had turn into a competition, and suddenly he was the center of attention. He expected to feel more pressure, but he didn't.

Jarrod aimed and fired. As in the warm-up round earlier, he fired six shots, one after another. Six cans, with a clean and even rhythm, flew off of the fence.

He handed Matt an empty revolver and started to walk away. Applause broke out. Tom felt a squeeze on his hand.

But Cyrus, overcome by the events of the day, angered at the cavalier nature of his now former friend, had been spellbound by the competition that sent that man's son down in defeat. But it wasn't enough. He called out. "Jarrod, you can't stop yet!"

Jarrod looked at him and said simply, "There is no point to wasting bullets."

It was night, the house was quiet. In her dressing gown, Victoria sat at her vanity and brushed her hair. She was tired from the company and all of the work, and could not rid her mind of the events of the day.

Tom came into the room. He had just had turned off the last of the lights. He too had enough of this day.

Looking in her mirror, Victoria could see the fatigue. In the reflection, their eyes met, and Tom made an effort to brighten.

"Well, at least it is over," Victoria said.

Tom walked up to her and touched her on the shoulder, his hand resting there for a moment. Then he roused himself, turned and walked to their bed. He sat, removed a boot, then finally said.

"I don't like seeing friends angry. When they left, Drew and Wally weren't saying a word to each other, Cyrus was downright mutinous. I could see no way to the repair the damage." He paused, sighed, then removed the other boot. "They've been friends for years, since our days in the gold camps. But now they're nothing. There's silence. This is what we have to look forward too. We can't have them here together again."

Victoria turned and looked at him. "Drew and Wally argue any chance they get. Give them a week and they will forget about it."

Tom shook his head, "No, not that soon, but they can get hot-headed, and can cool off as quickly. Cyrus, though, is a temperate man. Yet he became apoplectic at Drew words regarding the Union and her enemies."

"Well, Cyrus has always been sensitive about his home. You know you have stayed clear of politics whenever he has been here."

Tom continued talking, not heeding what his wife had said. "Suddenly, they were no longer friends, neighbors, Californians. They were men on opposite sides of some overwhelming chasm. Wally isn't even sympathetic to the southern cause. But he found fighting words when Drew said something against Virginia."

Victoria became very still. "And now they take personally. They can't have a reasonable discussion without personal spite and temper."

Tom stood up suddenly, and walked across the room. "Exactly! Can you imagine? A viewpoint so clouded by emotions that old friends don't have a word to say to each other." Tom stopped, and turned toward her. "They're acting no different from the rest of this country, and God help us, there is no answer!"

"No, no answer except for war."

"But when the war ends, it only means that one side is defeated, not that the problem is solved."

Tom continued: "I had hoped that the boys' shooting match would divert them, make them remember they're friends. Instead it became a battle, and they chose sides just to be opposite." Tom's voiced changed slightly. "No, not between the boys, but between the men. When Jarrod stopped, I thought Cyrus would explode. He wanted Jarrod to keep shooting, to grind it into Jamie. Thank God, Jarrod refused to continue!"

Victoria sat quietly, her brush still in her hand. She had noticed that the men had been quieter in the evening; that Tom and Matthew had carried the conversation.

Tom tried to change the topic. "So, did you hear any good gossip today?" he asked. It was a feeble attempt at humor.

Victoria sighed. "No gossip, just news. Matt Parker is going east. His father is arranging for him to join a regiment in Illinois. Some family friend is a colonel. Matt leaves next week. Sarah is beside herself."

Tom looked at her with surprise. "Matthew didn't say a word. But then he is wise enough not to throw coals on the fire." Then there was a silence.

Decisions made and changes. Matt goes east, Jarrod west, Jamie stays behind while his father goes north to Sacramento. But are those decisions final? What's stopping their son from coming to them and saying. 'I've decided to join the army, I can't sit by and watch anymore.' Law school now seemed a blessed relief. But neither parent doubted their son's sense of duty or determination once a decision was made. Neither spoke, but then neither would have been surprised that they were thinking the same thing. That's what twenty years of marriage will do to a couple.

Victoria finally spoke.

"Well, Drew and the children are off to Sacramento on Monday, perhaps the separation will help ease the anger."

Tom began to undress, each movement fatigued him. At this moment, he felt

rather old. "Yes, I hope so too. What do the children think of moving away? It must be so sudden for them."

Victoria stood up and walked toward the bed. "Danny can't wait, and Katy says she wants to go. She misses her mother so much, and I guess Drew has convinced her that going away is the best thing for her."

"For him too, no doubt," said Tom.

Victoria had taken off her dressing gown and laid it at the foot of the bed. Then she came away from the bed and toward where her husband stood. "He did love her, you know. They were a happy couple. He simply couldn't tolerate her being sick. He's afraid of illness, and couldn't admit it."

He looked down at his wife and said. "When she needed him most, he wasn't there. As she became sicker, he became more distant. It's inexcusable."

"It's sad, Tom, but Maggie understood. She knew him better than anyone."

He put his arms around her. "I could never do that to you."

She reached up to him. "I wouldn't let you."

At that moment, they could not stop the anger of friends, or any of the madness of the world around them. They could only comfort each other. Tom bent over to kiss his wife, and together, in their own way, they celebrated the New Year.

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