Revelations

by HOW

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 by the author. The ideas expressed in this story are copyrighted to the author.

This is a missing scene from The Guilt of Matt Bentell. It is a fictitious story incorporating fact, BV canon and BV fanon. Please refer to the bibliography at the end. Heath is 24 yrs old and it is 10 years since his imprisonment in Carterson. Warning:- In part 5 sexual abuse is inferred it is neither explicit nor graphic and no offence is intended.

Part 1

Heath stormed out of the study leaving his stepmother and brothers to consider the way they had handled an extremely difficult, sensitive and awkward situation. It appeared that Victoria was angry but she was not. She was exceedingly worried and upset and knew that because of her worry she had not been fair to her stepson and may even have driven him from them. She excused herself to her sons as she left the study. As she entered the foyer she saw Silas, “Silas have you seen Heath?”

“Yes ma’am Mr. Heath has taken his self to his room. He seemed to have been in a mighty big hurry.” Feeling the charged atmosphere in the house Silas let his observations be known as he replied.

Victoria Barkley took hold of her skirts and in determined mood started up the stairs to the first door in the hall way where she stopped. Tentatively she knocked and called. “Heath can I talk with you please?”

Much to her surprise Heath brusquely replied, “Come in.” It was not what she had expected and before he could change his mind Victoria turned the knob and entered through the doorway into the bedroom. Heath was standing with his back to the door doing something on the table in front of him. He did not turn round to acknowledge her, he just continued doing what it was he was doing before his stepmother entered. Victoria slowly approached and started to speak again. “Heath we need to talk,” she started. Still he did not turn or acknowledge her. He finished what he was doing and as she drew near turned swinging his saddle bags over his left shoulder and made to walk by her towards the door.

Taken aback she called harshly, “Heath where are you going?”

Heath ignored her and continued towards the door. Victoria realized she again had used that officious tone, the one she had used downstairs. “Please Heath I’m sorry we need to talk.” She said in a much softer voice.

This time Heath stopped and responded with his drawl emphasizing the words. “Ain’t that what’s been happening all day? We’ve been talking. I’ve been listening. I don’t reckon there is anything more to be said.” Tersely he replied and started towards the door again. Victoria could hear the distress beneath the anger in his voice and she put her hand out and took hold of his arm to restrain him.

“I am truly sorry Heath but we need to talk. After what you’ve heard today I’m surprised you called me in.” Victoria had softened her voice considerably and was trying to reassure Heath that she was willing to talk and to listen.

Heath ignored the plea to talk and snapped back, “If you want to come in this room I couldn’t stop you ma’am this is your house.” Victoria was not insensitive to the emphasis placed on ‘your house’ nor to his reverting back to calling her ma’am. “Where are you going because I do want to talk to you. I need to talk to you I need to explain?”

“I’m leaving ma’am I need a few days on my own to think. I can’t do it here in this house, not now, not any more. I don’t know when or if I’ll be back.” Again Heath started towards the door.

Victoria clutched harder on to his arm and pleaded with him. “Heath please stay, please don’t go, not yet, we need to talk. I need to talk but most of all I think I need to listen.” The last four words halted Heath. He turned round and looked at Victoria and waited raising an eyebrow questioningly. There was no denying the hurt exposed in his clear blue eyes as he waited for Victoria to continue. She was sorry knowing that she was partially the cause, her sons also having their share of blame.

“This morning I was worried, no I was more than worried I was frightened. I’ve never seen you like that before so intent on killing a man. I had to stop you and I know this is an excuse and I don’t really want to make an excuse but because I was frightened I was angry with you. I don’t know whether you can understand how a mother can be angry when she is frightened for her child but that is how I was.” Frantically Victoria tried to explain herself to Heath. “And because I was frightened I didn’t listen to you and I should have done. I’m here now Heath and I want to listen.”

“I told you this morning all that I could tell you...... That was all I could tell you.” He reaffirmed giving a slight nod of his head as his eyes grew distant. “I told you all you needed to know. Enough I thought so as you’d understand. I have never lied to you, to any of you. You knew that I had been a prisoner for seven months in Carterson I didn’t keep any secrets from you. I told you all this this morning. I listened to what you said, you and Jarrod. I went to the horse auction because I needed to be on my own to think. I knew then that I couldn’t kill Bentell. I knew before I left the house. I stayed away all afternoon because I couldn’t face being here in the house with him. I felt sure that you would have sent him away. But then when I returned I saw the buggy and knew that he was still here. What I didn’t know then was what you all had planned for me. I believe had I known that then I would never have returned.” In anger his words came gushing out not giving Victoria an opportunity to speak.

“I wanted you to listen to me then. I hoped you’d understand. But you didn’t did you? You were more interested in Bentell not being killed and being given a fair chance in life. Not once did you show any interest in why I should want to kill him or whether I should have a chance in this life.” Although there was anger in his voice the hurt was trying to overwhelm it and he fought for control. “We talked but we never discussed anything. I once told you I would do anything for you, I meant it, all you had to do was ask, but you didn’t ask did you? Any of you? You had all made up your minds what I was going to do. You even threatened me to show you the guts that I have inherited from my father. Do you honestly believe I would be here now if I didn’t have guts? They might not be guts like Tom Barkley’s but they are guts that kept me alive and brought me here. And they will be the guts that take me away.” He didn’t raise his voice; he didn’t need to for his anger and hurt was evident. He could say no more and stopped speaking, not caring if he’d inflamed an already volatile subject hoping at last that his stepmother understood and that he had managed to get his feelings across to her.

He could feel his stomach churning as the bile was rising to his throat. He felt rooted to the spot, wanting to escape through the open door and yet needing to stay. Victoria acknowledged to herself the truth of what he said and realized that Heath’s next course of action depended upon her. She feared with good reason that if he left his home he would never return. She had to stop him now and the only way she knew how was to talk with him and to listen to what he had to say as she hadn’t done earlier in the day. Victoria stepped around him and moved across the room to close the door then turned to Heath and ushered him over to the bed. Surprisingly he succumbed to her actions and found himself sitting on his bed. Feeling anything but calm Victoria calmly removed his saddle bags from his shoulder and placed them on the small table before sitting down in the easy chair.

“Heath I want you to talk to me. I want you to tell me now and I am going to listen. And when you have finished we will discuss and we will decide what will be done. Not me, not Jarrod, not Nick but us.” She watched as Heath’s left eyebrow raised questioningly again and his responsive pale blue eyes looked at her. She could see the trust had been shaken. “I promise Heath.”

“I said all that there was to say this morning and this evening. I don’t have anything more to add. What I said to you before was not good enough. I don’t see how what I say now can be any different.” Defiantly he responded with despondency.

“You were right Heath you said we didn’t understand. Yes you were right we didn’t understand. It is difficult for someone who hasn’t lived through or experienced what you have experienced to understand what it was really like. Oh I read about it in the newspapers at the time but even that is not the same as living it. I want to know Heath what it was like.” Victoria surprised Heath with what she said.

“I told you all you need to know.” His response was short and it was sharp and it cut into Victoria. She knew that she deserved it and she noticed how he clutched his hands together and squeezed them digging his finger nails hard into his flesh. He was fighting himself as much as her and Victoria realized all she needed to do was persist with her pleas.

“I want you to tell me all Heath. Everything.” Victoria demanded but with a sensitive and caring voice. Gone was the woman from this morning, gone was the woman from the study, here was a woman of warmth and compassion willing and wanting to understand what her stepson was feeling and wanting to understand all that he had been through.

“You don’t understand. I can’t tell you. I have never told anyone. It is not something for a lady to hear. It is not in me to tell you. To tell any of you.” Heath finished speaking but he was not sure whether he had conveyed his unwillingness to tell of his prison incarceration. Had he heard right, he questioned himself? Surely she did not want to know all the sordid and graphic details. Talking about Carterson was certainly something he did not want to do and especially not with Mrs. Barkley. Besides he was sure he could never tell.

Sitting here in his room the feeling of entrapment was overpowering him. He stood up and walked over to window. He opened the sash and breathed in the fresh air, gasping for freedom, hoping his mounting tension and nerves might be quelled.

Victoria was not without sentiment. She might not have understood what he went through at the prison camp but she did understand how he was feeling now. She felt sure that if Heath was able to talk about his experiences then he himself would be able to exorcise the demons which were only too keen to ruin his life.

Victoria stood up and walked over to Heath as he stood with his back to her looking out far across the valley but not seeing the country beyond. She stood slightly behind his right side putting her right hand just above his right elbow and slid her left hand behind his back to put pressure on to his left arm just above his other elbow. She then rested the near side of her face against the back of his right shoulder. “I will stay here Heath until you are ready. I will be here for you. I have already said I am sorry for the way I spoke to you today. If I could take all of it back I would. Today I forgot the golden rule of family and what having a family means. You are a part of this family, don’t you ever not believe it and don’t you ever think that you are not because you are every bit a Barkley as the rest of us and that means a part of this family. I love you as much as my own children. You are as much mine as you are my husband’s. A family is there to listen, to share and to try and help. They are there for each other. Today I forgot that but I am here now Heath part of your family, your mother wanting to listen, to share and to help if I can. If you will only let me. If you can only trust me. I am strong Heath. I won’t break.”

“My trust was broken today. I’m not sure I can trust you yet or again. But even so I can’t tell you..... I don’t think I can.......No I can’t” His voice was quivering and all his defiance had deserted him. His tremors pulsed through her hands as Victoria felt him quaking and she started to gently draw circles on his back with her left-hand hoping to soothe his tension.

For a while stepmother and stepson stood with nothing being said, each with their own thoughts. Victoria waited patiently feeling his tension and gently caressing his back. She knew he was thinking and her thoughts were with him. In time and without pressure he would speak she felt sure. Heath’s thoughts were in another time and another place. The Heath she knew was no longer in the room.

Part 2

The sun was starting to set as many species of birds silently winged their way to safe roosting perches and feral animals scurried to the security of their habitats before the creatures of the dark came out to haunt the night. It was a quiet evening and from the rear corral beneath Heath’s bedroom the sound of a couple of horses contentedly munching on their fresh hay drifted up on the breeze to the opened window. It was a sound that Heath would normally delight in but tonight it failed to penetrate his morose thoughts.

Time went slowly until eventually Heath stirred. He turned around towards Victoria breaking her hold on him, their eyes never coming into contact. With resolve he pushed by her and walked over to the small table and put his hands on the saddle bags but then stood still before slowly bowing his head.

After a while he looked up at the large stockade gates blocking his exit. All around him was the tall stockade fencing, towering above him, gradually closing in on him, stifling and oppressive, suffocating and overpowering him. He wanted to escape beyond but he knew there would be no freedom until he served his time in Carterson. For ten years he had been incarcerated; locked away in the psyche of his mind. There could be no liberty until he released the imprisoned memories. He only held the key. He only could turn the key. He only could open the gates. He only could destroy the demons. He only could find freedom. Only now was his chance, the opportunity he had yearned for, if only he had the courage to grasp it.

Two more minutes saw him let go of the bags, walk over dejectedly to his bed and sit on the edge, his elbows on his knees, his face buried in his hands and his strong sturdy fingers clawing into his scalp. Fearful Victoria watched him not daring to say anything.

“I haven’t seen him since I was fourteen until this morning, that is, standing as large as life in the living room. All my memories, all the experiences came flooding back as clear to me as if it was yesterday.” In a quavering voice of uncertainty Heath started to talk. Victoria came and sat back down in the easy chair off to the side but facing him. Heath looked up and stared ahead at the wall opposite, his work roughened hands now gripping tightly to the bed. His knuckles went white and his arms stretched straight hunching up his shoulders. Victoria looked into the pale blue eyes seeing both distance in time and life. To her Heath was somewhere else no longer knowing she was there watching and listening to him.

“The last battle we fought was in New Mexico. There were about seven hundred and forty of us left in our regiment after the battle. There were no officers they had all been killed. Somehow we had become separated from the rest of the Union army. Our regiment was supposed to curve round to the East of the Confederate army and come in on their flank while the rest of our army held the front and covered the West. Somehow it had all gone terribly wrong. We moved into our positions up to the East and then we became aware of more rebs coming from that direction and moving around from the North effectively cutting us off from the rest of our army. We were now trapped and encircled. The rest of our army were pushed over to the South. We never saw them again. We had no idea where they ended up. This day the Union army were well and truly beaten.

“For two days we held our position. We had no choice. The rebs didn’t advance they didn’t need to. They had us trapped. They held the trump card. They kept sniping at us and firing the small field artillery. As if to condone the situation the weather went from scorching hot to bitter cold and pouring rain. The smoke from the firing weapons and the smell of gunpowder hung in the air around us as a dense fog causing our eyes to water and our throats to burn. The ground went from parchment to a quagmire. The conditions soon became intolerable. The bad weather persisted for those two days. We were soaking wet, muddy, miserable, cold, frightened and defeated. For two days we hadn’t eaten. Some of us still had water left in our canteens but not much and it certainly wasn’t fresh.

“In a forlorn effort we tried to fight our way out. It being the only thing left to do. But that saw the end of our ammunition and realizing it the rebs moved in. We had nothing left to fight with only our bare hands or our rifles if we used them as clubs. To try was sure suicide. We were backed up and herded into the center. Any who tried to break through were shot. There was no escape. We laid our rifles down and surrendered; there was nothing else to be done. Our weapons were collected and we stood there not daring to move. It seemed like ages before we were pushed into single file to be searched and relieved of any concealed weapons or equipment. Our canteens were removed as were our eating utensils and surplus items of clothing and anything else the rebs felt they could use. Any monies, valuables or personal items we had also were taken. They even checked our boots and any decent ones found were removed from their owners. Fortunately my boots had already departed company with part of their sole so were not deemed suitable plunder and as such remained on my feet.

“As captives we were sorely treated by our captors. Any means we had had been taken from us. Later during my imprisonment I was to learn from fellow prisoners of other units that not all captors treated their captives as we had been treated.

“We had no idea what their intentions were towards us. For a while I feared we were going to be shot and prepared to meet my maker but eventually the orders came through. Half of us were going to a prison camp near a small settlement called Carterson and the other half were to be moved to the nearest railway depot to be transported to I know not where. It was going to be a fair trek in either case and any prisoners who were wounded or ailing and deemed not fit enough to walk were killed; shot out of hand with a bullet to the head. Any wounded who were found lying on the field where also dispatched like a horse with a broken leg. It was hard to believe that these rebs were actually Americans, that we were born and bred in the same country.

“And this was only the beginning of our capture.

“Eventually the regiment was divided into two and I found myself marching on the road to Carterson. The only fortunate part about it was that I was with my small band of buddies. There were six of us and we’d been together ever since I first, not joined the army but came into the regiment. I was the youngest by a good few years, being just turned thirteen when I first joined the army, and they had taken a shine to me and took me under their wings and looked after me.” For a short while his voice sparked with animation.

“The boss was Jack. He was the eldest being about the age I am now. He seemed ancient to me at the time. He was a real big guy; big in all ways. Generous in spirit and generous in voice. A little like Nick. He always dealt fairly with you. He took real good care of me and the others. You always felt safe when Jack was around. I was glad he was here with us. Then there was Hank a small shifty looking fella, you know the type with eyes too close together. His appearance belied him. He was honest and true as the day was long. He’d never let you down. He was always there for you. Then there was Paddy of course he was an Irishman. Full of the blarney as they say. Well he always had stories to tell. You never could believe a word he said. But he wasn’t lying. He was just telling stories. Then there was Jed and Wes. Just ordinary guys like me who had joined the army hoping for a better life, trying to escape their past. We’d made a pact that we would be there for each other come what may.”

Heath stopped talking and the small crooked smile which was peculiar to him touched his lips as his eyes remained still far, far away. Victoria was sure he was seeing them all again, playing, fooling, fighting, joking in his mind’s eye. She could feel them here in the room. She looked at the wall to see if she could see them so intent was his stare. She wanted to ask what had become of them but decided not to for fear of breaking his train of thought. The pit of her stomach gave her the feeling that shortly she would find out and feared that if she interrupted his flow and he realized her presence then he would stop speaking and she would never know. Heath appeared oblivious to her company so involved with his revelations was he.

As smoothly as it had arrived the smile left his lips and he continued in the monotonous monotone voice which he had begun with. “We started walking. The weather changed. It was now humid and hot. The sun beat down relentlessly drying the puddles and increasing the humidity. As the ground dried so hard ruts were created on the much used tracks making marching difficult. We had started by floundering along ankle deep in mud but now we stumbled along tripping on the ruts accompanied by reb soldiers on horseback always keeping their eyes on us.

Any prisoners who made a break for it were shot and killed. Any who fell by the wayside from fatigue or whatever were shot too. One bullet to the brain was all. The bodies were left where they fell to be cleaned by buzzards, coyotes or whatever scavengers there were and there were plenty not just of the animal kind.

“During the daylight hours we marched with a small break at noon during the hottest part of the day I believe for the benefit of our guards and their horses. At night we rested. During the rest times we dealt with our personal necessities; there was no privacy. We were never let out of their sight nor were we allowed to talk. A rifle butt to the ribs took care of that. It sure cured you of wanting to talk. Mind you after a day of walking all you wanted to do was sleep. Our guards never took their eyes off us.

“For two days we marched without food. A water wagon followed at the rear and at the end of each day we were allowed a small drink. It wasn’t much but it was better than nothing. We were chivvied along for our ration by the butt of a rifle. Any dawdling was promptly dealt with and a rifle was always at the ready to dispense a bullet if necessary. As the days progressed I could feel my tongue swelling in my mouth. Fatigue was setting in. I was weary and the thoughts of the bullet to the brain was all that kept me going. I don’t think I was any worse off than the others. My feet had hardened long ago and thankfully they weren’t getting blistered now. Some of the men were barefoot while others were poorly shod and you could see them suffering. The muscles in my legs ached, my side pained from contact with a recent rifle butt and my head throbbed with the scorching sun although I was one of the few who wore a hat. During the march the weather had gone from humid to dry and the sun remained relentless in its torture of us.

“Fortunately at the end of the third day those of us who were left came by a river. I’m not rightly sure which river it was nor at the time I suppose did I really care. All that mattered was that it was wet and it was welcoming and the rebs let us into it. The floods created by the freak weather earlier in the week had gone and the water came no higher than our knee caps. So there was no chance of ducking down beneath the water and trying to make an escape by swimming for it. Being in the water was enough it was refreshing and we were able to drink our fill and soothe our aching limbs. That night was our last night outside of Carterson.

“On the fourth day our final stage of marching began. Although refreshed by the river I was suffering and feared this was going to be my last day with the living. Jack knew it and he was there for me. We dared not talk but we didn’t have to. He took my arm and put it round his neck and held on to it and put his other arm around my back and partially carried and dragged me ’til we reached our destination. There were many more like me helped to the prison camp by their buddies. I know it sounds ungrateful but often times in the months to come I would wonder whether we’d have been better had our buddies left us to have fallen by the wayside.

“It was towards the end of September and the Winter lay ahead of us as Carterson came in sight. I didn’t know it then but this was to be my home for seven long months. Fifteen acres filled with creatures I had yet to see which might have been human enclosed in a twenty foot high timber stockade, an impenetrable wall of rough, hewn, pine poles sunk into the ground, surrounded by acres of undulating, desolate land where once had stood trees. Not a hill, not a tree, not a bush could be seen until far into the distance. From outside the camp the smell was nauseous. The sounds we heard were animalistic and inhuman in their intensity.

“We were herded through an outer gate, which was then closed behind us before the large inside stockade gate was opened. From there I was able to view my new home for that is what it would be. For there would be no exchange of prisoners any more. There scarcely looked room for us amongst the seething mass of gaunt and wasted bodies who had once been soldiers, clothed only in rags which once had been uniforms.

“A parapet went round the high stockade wall and a sentry box was placed every forty yards along. The prison guards could be seen patrolling along this parapet and in each box accessed by a short ladder were two more armed guards. About twenty feet inside the retaining fence was a single trip wire. The deadline I later learned it was called. It didn’t take much imagination to realize that this twenty foot margin around the perimeter was dead man’s land. One step inside would be the last you made. Later many was the time I witnessed a prisoner being shot even before he stepped over the line. Inside the camp there were a few wooden barracks which looked like they’d been thrown together with a hotch potch of timber and were hardly sufficient or substantial enough to provide shelter or accommodation for the occupants.

“Near the gate was a longer and much sturdier building; the inside of which I would later become acquainted.” At this Heath blinked uncontrollably and then he shook his head fiercely as though clearing his thoughts before continuing. Victoria noticed and wondered at the response. “This building was surrounded by its own wall of latticed plain wire.

“Still inside the camp but on the other side of the gate was the whipping pen as we would learn to call it. It was an enclosure of latticed plain wire. This day there were already two bloodied carcasses hanging from two of the five substantial whipping posts. I couldn’t tell whether the bloody remains were alive or dead. As the sun beat down, the flies I presume drawn there by wet blood, swarmed around or crawled on the carcasses relishing in the raw flesh.

“With rifles being used as sticks or prodders by the guards, much as cattle are driven at the stockyards, we were herded into a holding corral. Once inside I don’t think there was one of us who didn’t sit down or lay down or drop down from exhaustion feeling sick, sore, hungry and frightened.

“One by one we were kicked up off the ground, physically propelled towards and into a building on the outside perimeter of the stockade also enclosed by another seven foot fence of latticed plain wire. It seemed obvious there would be no escape from this place. As each prisoner was hurled out he was poked and prodded through the open stockade gates and into the camp corral and the next prisoner went into Bentell’s office while another entered the building. One by one we were being processed. My turn eventually came. This was when I first met Matt Bentell.

“He was the Commander at Carterson and greeting his new guests was one of his rituals. This building was his headquarters which accessed directly to the parapet where he could watch and survey the prisoners. I was violently shoved into his presence and made to stand to attention with the aid of a rifle barrel prodding into my back. I was sick and weary but forcing myself to stand I looked him straight in the eyes defiantly. Another severe prod with a rifle and I learned a new lesson. I was told never to look the Commander in the eyes. Bentell always stood on ceremony although he was sitting at the time.” Heath made to laugh but the joke never reached his eyes only cynicism came forth.

“There he was sitting behind his desk looking much the same as he did today only ten years younger wearing his confederate officer uniform. It would appear he liked to see each of us at least once during our stay. He took my name, rank, and regiment which was documented by another prison guard. Then I was again thoroughly searched and manhandled before Bentell spoke telling me the basic rules and behavior expected from prisoners and how any deviation from this behavior would be severely dealt with. Of which I was left in no doubt.

“Having been processed I was thrown out into the camp corral where terrified I collapsed to the ground and sat on the bare earth and waited for my buddies. For what must have been more than five hours the processing went on. Fighting nausea and the desire to close my eyes and let oblivion claim me I kept my sight fixed on the open stockade gates for fear of missing the five of them. Eventually we six were reunited and life in Carterson began.”

Part 3

“It had grown dark while we waited to be reunited. The camp had quieted and calmed some. As the fires died down and the air chilled most of the prison inmates had settled for the night beneath tents or canvases seeking only warmth for comfort was never in the offing. Around the perimeter of the camp at intervals hung lighted lanterns illuminating the dead man’s land and casting sinister shadows over the makeshift hovels. Here and there human forms could be seen silhouetted against the muted light as they sought refuge for the night. They were probably others from our unit as fearful and unsure as we were having to face our first night incarcerated within the tall wooden stockade none of us being ignorant of what the future held.

“There was no specific place for us we just had to find a space somewhere to spend our first night. The resident inmates were none welcoming nor accommodating offering us no quarter so Jack decided we’d try one of the shacks for the first night although we doubted there would be room. We opened one door and besides it being squashed to capacity with reclining bodies we were met with a stench more nauseating than outside so immediately the idea of staying in a shack was dismissed. The alternative was to find accommodation outdoors but it became obvious to the others that I was too tired and not fit enough to tramp around looking for a place so it was decided that we seek refuge in one of the kind of streets which ran intermittently between the hovels of tents, canvases and inadequate holes. There was many a poor soul miserable and wretched without shelter or means of warmth who sought the pathetic sanctuary the streets could offer that first night as we did. Jack assured us that the following day somehow we’d secure some kind of accommodation where we could live and exist.

“We slept that night as we had many times with empty bellies, on cold, hard, rough ground, without any form of cover the only difference now being we were no longer free men. We slept though restless the sleep of the exhausted. Although the night grew cold we were thankful that it didn’t rain for we were exposed. Having nothing under us nor over us pitifully we huddled together shivering and trembling our bodies powerless to provide each of us with the warmth and comfort we craved.

“The new day arrived and fear and trepidation were our companions for there was no doubt we were wretched. I looked around at the camp. It was hard to know what was most terrible about the place, the prison itself or the throng of grimy, soiled, malnourished, starved and emaciated prisoners. That’s the kindest way to describe them for the most they were an appalling sight to behold. What was most alarming was the facial expressions of many or the lack of, for their faces told more than their physical appearance ever could.

“As were their bodies most of the faces were gaunt and drawn but the look on many was expressionless being devoid of emotion. The eyes were vacant, blank, indifferent and unfeeling many of them beyond caring whether they lived or died. The lack of expressions told of suffering, anguish, torment, pain, humiliation, shame, degradation, fear, misery and much more. No longer had they a thought to the future. You could see no sign of hope in them and for myself I knew I was going to learn first hand what had brought these men to this.

“It was another sight to behold when the prisoners started moving around as the day began. They moved slowly and aimlessly lacking any form of motivation. Some figures were stooped with their arms hanging listlessly down, some dragged their limbs and some moved with each step giving them obvious pain. I could only picture them being as the living dead.

“It was hard to believe a human being could look and be like that and still be alive. For many their days were numbered and they would not live much longer.

“The array of dress was something else to behold. Some were reasonably well clothed even having a heavy coat over their uniforms while most were barely covered, the cloth having become worn and threadbare. Some were without pants and some without boots and some poor souls with neither. Any who had blankets kept them around themselves as an extra garment being fearful of their loss or having them stolen. The uniforms besides being filthy like their owners had long been bleached by the sun. The uniform you came in with was all you had to see you through your time there.

“Now although the majority looked gaunt and some skeletal, not all the prisoners looked bad. In my innocence I assumed it depended on how long they had been there. For some it did but not all. For some reason some prisoners never looked bad no matter how long their stay. At that time I didn’t understand why. The reason I would learn later.

“I looked around the compound across the sea of bodies ’til my sight came to an abrupt halt on the solid stockade fence. There was no way of seeing through it, round it or over it at the world outside. All I could do was follow it upwards to the heavens above and wonder if eventually that would be my only salvation.

“Everything was bad.

“It soon became obvious we needed to vacate where we had slept as the morning traffic began in earnest else we’d have been trampled underfoot. There were too many prisoners for the amount of space. The place was swarming and teeming with the wretched creatures. At all times we were squashed and cramped together. There didn’t at first appear to be any order or organization about the camp. Jack realized that if we were going to survive we needed to organize ourselves even within our existing unit. Each morning there was roll call and all prisoners were expected to muster within their unit. At least this kept us united. Each unit was looked over by their own sergeants who would organize the needs and provisions for their men.

“Work parties were created from within the units on a roster system. There would be work parties to collect and forage for fire wood, work parties for collecting and supplying water and work parties for burial duty. These were work duties shared by all the units. The work parties collecting food rations did so only for their own unit.

“Food rations were dispensed daily and our work party would collect our rations which would then be dispensed to us. Our unit had been denuded of any eating and cooking utensils and the limited number of cooking skillets, tin plates or containers were kept guarded by the established prisoners themselves as their own possessions. They were not going to lend to the likes of us for fear of not having them returned. A prisoner without resources was without means. If you were without means you were without hope.

“So if you wanted a container you had to procure one in some manner or another. Then you needed to fight to keep it. Without a container your food rations were scooped into your open hands and you prayed that other prisoners would not fight and steal it from you. As new inmates many of us although wretched were reasonably strong and healthy and were at first not attacked for food but once we became weak then we became vulnerable to attack as was the unwritten law in a place such as Carterson.

“As the main rations were dealt out they were watched over by armed guards. The guards were only concerned that the main rations were not stolen once we had ours it was our responsibility. Any fighting or theft of the main rations was a flogging offence. Rations consisted of corn meal or cornbread which was invariably maggoty and insect infested, a small sliver of raw beef sometimes alternated by bacon or no meat at all. The rations were hardly sufficient to sustain us being half the normal daily amount needed to feed a man. The guards maintained they had the same amount we had but I reckon they had the means and the capability to buy more or supplement their rations. We had not. Complaining about lack of food or the maggots, you guessed it, was a flogging offence.

“We learnt where the sinks where. Again there was no privacy. Initially someone in their wisdom had decided they should be by the small stream which ran through the corner of the camp so that the human waste would be washed away with the water. Unfortunately this didn’t happen because this stream was very slow-running and was only flushed away after a storm or heavy rains. So what could have been a fresh source of water was stagnant, contaminated and poisonous and consequently unfit for drinking. Supposedly freshwater was brought in daily in water wagons by the work parties and was left for our use but this was only for drinking. You quickly learnt to be first there or to fight for the water otherwise sometimes you went without. There was never water for washing for washing was a waste of the resource. Wasting water was a punishable offence by flogging.

“And so it was that by asking around from inmates who had been there a while we learnt the bare necessities about existing at Carterson and particularly for our unit bare necessities they were indeed.

“Survival was the name of the game and Jack was determined that we were going to survive reasoning that our incarceration couldn’t be too long because although our last battle went against us the war was falling in the favor of the Union. This would later be confirmed by each new intake of prisoners. And Jack being as he was you could believe him. He always kept us hoping. We were each given targets the first morning by Jack. We were to obtain plates, containers and cups, canvas or tents, a hole in the ground and blankets in fact anything that could be of use. My target was to stay more or less where I was and await their return. I took myself to the edge of the hovels where I thought I’d be safe and sat down anxiously watching out for them.

“It might have been an hour or two before they returned but return they did brandishing their bootie. There was not enough to go round but a start had been made. I wasn’t stupid enough not to realize where the items had come from but none the less I was grateful for them. Someone somewhere was doing without because of us. Paddy would reason it out by saying that those who had lost the items had had their turn and now it was ours. In the back of my mind I realized the truth of what he was saying and in due time someone else would have their turn when we became too weak to fight. “All was fair in love and war.” And this was war. At the time this was the only way I could deal with it.

“The accommodation in the camp comprised of the wooden makeshift shacks or being out in the open in shallow dugouts which had been scraped out of the earth some being covered with canvas or tents many of which were now no longer waterproof and only just managed to provide shelter from the elements for the occupants.

“We had a canvas and from now on our nights were spent shivering and trembling with cold huddled together beneath our acquired canvas. All that was left was for us to find a hole. While out on their scavenge hunt each of them had been spying out for a suitable hole but none had been found. So we squashed in at the edge of the existing mass and worked with our eating utensils and bare hands to scrape away the earth to form some kind of dugout. We would work on it as the months went by as would other prisoners with their makeshift shelters. It was a tight squeeze for the six of us but with the canvas it would afford us some shelter from the elements during the Winter months to come.”

Victoria listened intently to everything Heath said. Harrowing as it was to hear she knew it could only get worse. She noted how different he was speaking whilst telling the narrative. This was no longer the Heath she knew. This was a boy, a pathetic child from ten years ago telling his life as he had lived it. Living through a time no person should ever have experienced. No longer was he sparing with words. They were plentiful in their description albeit unhurried in their rendition. He neither glorified nor exaggerated in his telling. It was simplistic in its account. Frequently he stopped and checked and rephrased in his mind before divulging everything no matter how shameful or shocking. Victoria had never known him to be so open and she fought to control her emotions and did not interrupt.

Part 4

The evening drew on and the light in the room became dimmed. Whichever world he was in her troubled stepson did not notice the changing light and Victoria chose to ignore it as she listened intently to the quiet voice which was lost in time.

“The first month went by within a routine of tedious drudgery, for we learnt that there was an order to our monotonous life in a prison camp. Many things were constant. The fear of the night was constant in the not knowing and the knowing of what it would bring. The fear of a new day was constant, the knowing and the not knowing what it would bring.

“Always there was the stench of raw sewage from the sinks, urine, human sweat, human dead and vomit permeating into our nostrils until our sense of smell eventually became numbed to it.

“All around us was disease and sickness and we, none of us were exempt from its clutches.

“At all times there was an unreal noise, a moaning, muttering and murmuring that grew in its intensity as the day wore on. Sometimes those who had not lost faith with their god sang psalms and hymns and together those who were able sang the battle hymn in contempt to our captors adding to the cacophony of sound. As the camp quieted late into the evening then the pitiful groans and moans of the sick came into their own. Then in the early hours of the morning the cries of the dying merged with the quieted moans and groans and the muted murmurings of the living and just before dawn there would be a virtual hush before the sounds started up again. There was no peace and no let up to the noise.

“With the dawn came movement from awakening prisoners. Journeys to the sinks were made and the monotony of another day would begin.

“The bodies of those who had died during the night were gleaned of their assets before being carried and laid by the large stockade gates ready for the day’s burial party. Not a morning arrived that there weren’t corpses to be cleared. There was no weeping or mourning for the departed it was accepted as a typical day’s happening. At least the dead were relieved of the anguish and suffering that was Carterson and to many the dead were to be envied.

“Then if we were not involved in the roster of the day we would sit and wait as the day unfolded bringing with it various forms of entertainment. We would sit and pick at the lice that infested our bodies. When one was caught we’d crush it between our thumb nails listening hard as it cracked feeling satisfaction that there was one less to scratch at. We were never free of the graybacks.

“The guards who were mainly older men well past their soldiering days were often brutal, sadistically relishing in their cruelty, tormenting and tantalizing of us prisoners. Inmates who might get too close to the deadline were shot out of hand without warning as I’ve already said. I’d often seen a prisoner shot after purposely being nudged or pushed over the deadline by a guard. Frequently I saw guards subjecting a prisoner to a beating for the sheer hell of it. I was sickened by the treatment but I reckon I was more sickened with myself for not intervening or trying to help. It was a useless situation for us for we knew we couldn’t do anything and if we interfered then we’d become a victim. Of course we didn’t dare complain either because we would become targets and besides there was no one to complain to. Jack just told me to keep my head down and try and ignore it. I could keep my head down but trying to ignore it never sat easy with me.

“Not a day went by but there wasn’t a flogging to be watched. Of course this form of entertainment had to be verified by Bentell. He would sign the orders and all prisoners were expected to muster in their units to listen to the charges being read out and witness the punishment. It usually took place after role call. Bentell would stand on his parapet and watch the spectacle. Not all floggings were justified many I believe having been perpetrated by the guards.

“I never stopped being sickened by the sight of a man being whipped. Each stroke went through me. Often the severity of the flogging depended on the expertise of the executioner of the punishment. There were those who treated it as an art in making each stroke a perfection delicately cutting through fresh skin each time able to create a pattern on the poor soul’s back. Then there were those who just lashed out mercilessly flaying the skin from the flesh and cutting down to the bone stroke over stroke. The brutalized prisoner would be left to hang there for the rest of the day only being cut down as dusk fell.

“Well all that I have mentioned were everyday occurrences at Carterson as was eating at the beginning of our stay whereas as by the end eating daily was a rare occurrence. At first we were desperate for food and would clamber for it. More than once I’ve scrambled in the dirt after a morsel, unintentionally dropped by another captive, fighting off others to get at it. Eating went only part way towards satisfying our hunger. No matter how sparse or bad the food was we would eat it. When you’re as hungry as we were you would eat anything and many’s the time it was no better than the slops we feed the pigs. Food that would ordinarily turn your stomach became a delicacy. After a few months our hunger was not quite the same I guess our bellies had shrunk by then having grown accustomed to the meager amounts but we ate because we knew we had to if we were going to survive. I have never turned my nose up at any food since always being glad for what I get. It sure teaches you to be appreciative.

“Eventually our food rations would arrive and we’d hanker around for our share like pigs at the trough. I shared a plate with one of our gang us not yet having enough to go round. At first we’d take our time to pick out the maggots and then shovel the corn meal into our mouths with our grimy fingers before licking them and the plates clean. For those without containers they’d hungrily eat the corn meal out of their cupped hands either spitting out the maggots or not. Later we’d eat the maggots too. If meat was on the menu then we had to wait ’til the fires were lit in the evening to cook our rations. There were some so ravenous they would eat the meat raw but not me I couldn’t take to that, not at the beginning, anyway. The meat was something to look forward to although at times it would be rancid. Until we had the means to cook our meat we had to lay it on stones close enough to the flames and guard over it in case it was stolen. Many was the time I fought over my thin sliver of meat too. Nor was it beyond some of the guards to steal food from some of the prisoners either.

“Being on roster duties helped to break the monotony and in a small way gave us something to look forward to. When on duty we’d make our way over to the large stockade gates and wait taking in the sight of the night’s gory offering of skeletal corpses. When the gates opened we’d enter the holding corral to fit the leg irons. No prisoner was allowed out before the irons were fitted. The length of chain was short and only allowed you a pace of half a stride and shortly your ankles would be chafing and raw but it would be worth it to be out and to be able to see beyond the stockade fence. We were not free but it was the next best thing.

“If we were on firewood duty then the leg irons allowing we’d shuffle along side the mule driven wagons across the desolate landscape, to the distant woodland to forage, strip and denude the trees. We always had to stay within sight otherwise there would be a bullet fired off as a warning and a brutal beating to follow. Even here there was no chance of escape. It would be a day’s work without respite and when the wagon was filled we’d return exhausted ready for food as long as someone had kept our rations for us and then we’d sleep as our ankles raw and often bleeding swelled.

“If we were on water duty then the same as firewood duty we’d shuffle alongside the wagons carrying the large water barrels further up the stream to where it seemed clean. I don’t think we were ever allowed to go far enough up because the water always seemed tainted to me. With the stream being slow moving the filth would back up quite a ways and though it looked clean I reckon it was impure. Of course you could never be sure what went into the stream higher up either. Only a good storm or rain shower could clear it but then the affects would only last a day or two before the water up stream would become tainted again. And often after a bad storm the sewerage would overflow the banks contaminating part of the compound close by and the nearest dugouts too. Any how there was no use asking the guards if we might go further up because they would ridicule us. We would scoop out the water, fill the barrels, squat the mosquitoes which were intent on drinking our blood and then make our way back to the camp. As I later learned bringing sickness and disease back with us in the guise of clean water.

“Carterson was rife with sickness and disease for there was no escaping it. The food we had was insufficient to ward off illness indeed in many cases it was probably the cause besides the drinking water which I then suspected. Each of us was real sick sometime during the first month with vomiting and diarrhea which was the cause of many of the deaths. It would be a recurring illness although I always managed to recover it left me weaker than before and after each bout I could tell I’d shed more weight and as a youth I was pretty lean to begin with and could scarcely afford the loss. As prisoners we could guess the cause of the illnesses but under the conditions we lived were unable to safeguard against them. All the time we suffered some form of belly upset. It was only after the war had ended in the Union army hospital that I learnt the truth behind much of the illness and the main causes of death.

“There was a hospital attached to Carterson outside the stockade, a splattering of tents really, but it didn’t take us long to realize that if you went into the hospital then you never came out again, well not on your own two feet anyway. On burial duty there were always bodies at the edge of the hospital tents discarded for collection. I reckon they were the only ones ever to come out. As did most of the prisoners, we determined never to be taken to hospital if we could help it.

“Burial duty entailed lifting the corpses on to the meat wagon, carrying our shovels as we made our way to the site outside the stockade fence and digging trenches. These trenches were always in progress so after laying the new day’s corpses in a previously dug part and covering them with the earlier dug soil we would dig further along thereby lengthening the trench and throwing the freshly dug soil on to the side. This way the corpses were never left waiting for burial. The bodies would be laid head to toe so they didn’t take up too much space. We always tried to be respectful of the bodies but it was not beyond the guards to delight in throwing one of us in on top of them and laughing as we struggled to climb off them us being hampered by the leg irons.

“Although it was work outside the stockade this was not one of my favorite duties. As the heat progressed through the day the bodies would start to give off a smell all of their own. It was the smell of death, a sickly sweetness and having once smelled it you never forget it. It was a stench most foul. The flies would be buzzing around you all the time. I was always thankful when this duty was over. The memory of the corpses remained with me well into my dreams and beyond.”

Victoria was not surprised for the picture was imprinted on her mind. Only by remaining detached from himself was Heath able to paint the grisly picture his voice at all times remaining expressionless. She felt sure the corpses would be staying with her, well into her dreams and beyond only in hers’ a young Heath would be there digging trenches, manhandling and burying them.

Victoria remembered her own sons at fourteen and the idyllic carefree life they had lived. Jarrod already heavily into law knowing where his ambition was going to take him; Nick happily helping and working for fun alongside his father on the ranch and romanticizing about a war that had not long begun; Eugene, until the murder of his father, flitting about from one activity to another not worrying where his future would take him. And now she could visualize her blond haired stepson, the belated gift from her husband at the same age caught up in a man’s world; his only ambition being to live ’til the next day; having to do backbreaking tasks and repugnant work in leg irons as a means to survive; not knowing if he had a future; not seeing any farther than an inadequate meal he might not get and knowing the reality that war was anything but romantic.

Before this morning she had known he had been in Carterson but she had not considered how he may have been affected by it so good had he been at concealing it. Only now was she realizing how adversely he must have been affected by the experiences he was disclosing. Surely there was no man on this earth let alone a child who would not be affected by such experiences she reflected as she now began to understand what he had lived through. “How could I have been so blind to his angst this day?” she asked herself as she questioned her own reasoning in the way she had self righteously approached the matter when the true identity of Matt Bentell had been made known to her. Even after Heath had tried to explain to her and had left for the auction she had been only sympathetic towards and concerned for the life that Bentell had had and how Carterson had affected him and now reflected on what she had said to her sons about only having to look at his poor wife to see how she had suffered. How was it that she had never looked at her stepson and seen how he had been affected she thought.

She didn’t want to make excuses for herself but she found her thoughts dwelling on Heath and how she remembered him since his arrival hoping somehow she could understand how he had concealed these anguished experiences from her and his brothers and sister. The truth was she knew very little about his past. He never made a big deal about it. She remembered being in the hotel bar with him at her husband’s commemoration after the bother about wearing the boots and trying to get information out of him then about his mother and knew how tightly he could hold on to it.

She had seen it many times how deep he could be. It seemed the more he hurt inside the deeper he was. She acknowledged that getting personal information out of Heath was like getting blood from a stone. But somehow this day was different for the information he was spilling now was so horrific she could not imagine how he had managed to keep it from them. And yet she had to admit he had. He had come to them nine months ago other than being angry, a normal, well balanced and amiable young man. Until this morning came she had not suspected nor seen this coming. With any mention of Carterson he had always been blasé. She looked at the dejected figure sitting on the bed and was only too grateful that he was talking and hoped that by the end she might understand how none of them had ever suspected what he had been through while a prisoner of war.

As Heath talked she marveled that she’d been able to get him to open up. When this was over she felt sure her help would be needed and hoped somehow she could remedy the wrong she had done this day. As her heart stated to palpitate she kept listening ensuring not to cause a distraction.

“It was after one of my returns from a burial duty that Jack informed us of some exciting news. I reckon it was my digging that had brought it to mind. As I ate the rations my buddies had saved for me I listened intently to his news. It appeared that in one of the dugouts a few places up from us a tunnel was being dug. Our dugouts at this part of the camp where cut into a gentle slope which went beyond the stockade wall and apparently some prisoners from another unit had started digging a tunnel many, many months prior.

“Obviously tunnel digging is hard and tedious work and the guys were looking for fresh and trusted helpers from those who might be interested in escaping. Jack had said we would be interested because I reckon he thought it would give us something else to think about and to look forward to, not the digging but the getting out part giving us hope while we waited for the war to end. Jack always had the thought that the war would shortly be over and we would be freed. The tunnel was already fifteen feet long and Jack reckoned we’d be through and way beyond the stockade fence in about six months but the war would be over well before then.

“So it was that we started to dig our way out of Carterson. The tunnel was not noticeable to the guards due to it being covered by a tent and the guards never ventured amongst the dugouts. All concerned with the tunnel were very guarded as to who was told or involved. For the months we spent working on it the guards never found out or if they did then they allowed us to continue.

“The tunnel digging went on throughout the day and night and we each took turn in digging for an hour using a small spoon, a tin cup or a plate for we had no other form of tools. It was slow and hard and laborious and our hands became blistered and raw. The work never troubled me but it was always dark and stuffy and the thoughts of being trapped beneath the earth always haunted me as I toiled. A cave in was not beyond possibilities. The soil we dug out was placed in our pockets and later we emptied this about camp as we walked. Of course there would be a good few of us prisoners emptying our pockets. With the tunnel being dug on a slope it was not troubled when the rains came. The tunnel made steady progress and life and death went on in Carterson.

“We’d been at the camp for about a month and I was on my way to do my share of tunnel digging when I was first accosted by a couple of prison guards. I wasn’t paying too much attention to where I was going and hadn’t seen them coming. They hadn’t really sneaked up on me but I was taken completely by surprise. I’d seen it happen many times to other prisoners and knew what to expect. I was nudged and punched and knocked and was unable to protect myself. Unlike attacks I’d seen on other prisoners, these guards never used the boot. I couldn’t understand why but I was thankful. When I fell to the ground I was roughly hauled up to my feet again showered with more body blows before biting the dirt again. When their fun was finally over I expected to be propelled over the deadline for a bullet to finalize my torment.

“But the deadline never came instead when they realized there was no fight left in me they pulled me up and shoved me forward and told me to keep moving. I stumbled forward any hesitancy on my part being rewarded with a blow to my back from the butt end of a rifle, enough to hurt and cause bruising but thankfully not enough to do too much damage. I was being herded towards the stockade gates for what reason I didn’t know but I was halted before we reached them.

“Fearful I stood and looked at the substantial long wooden building to which I’d been ushered. My gut was twisting as I presumed there could be only one reason I had been brought here. This was the solitary confinement block often used for prisoners awaiting a flogging. I drew on all my power of will to have the strength not to show these guards my horror. I took deep breaths and even allowed myself a sly, if not nervous snicker knowing the prison camp stench would overpower the smell of fear radiating from me for believe me I was scared. But there was no way I would reveal it to them.”

Part 5

Warning:- In the following part sexual abuse is inferred it is neither explicit nor graphic and no offence is intended.

Heath stopped speaking and again Victoria noted the way he frantically blinked his eye lids as if to clear his eyesight and then rapidly shook his head before this time folding his arms firmly into his stomach and pressing hard as he bent himself in two. “I can’t go in not yet. Need a little more time before I go in.” Heath’s quiet anguished voice stressed to no one in particular.

Victoria heard the beleaguered words and sat and waited and watched and wondered at what would come next. Because she had already decided what she needed to do and because she doubted if she had the strength to listen to any more Victoria was sorely tempted to stop Heath now. But her inner self held her fast and pushed her selfish need to the side telling her she must allow Heath to continue and she must have the courage not to desert him in his time of need. Confidently she had told Heath she was strong and she would be there for him but now as the revelations unfolded she questioned her strength to listen further and, “To think,” she accused herself “I told Heath to show us my husband’s, his father’s guts.” The guilt was starting to trickle from her as bittersweet molasses from a spoon. She was feeling extremely uncomfortable and knew she deserved every bit of it. If she stopped him now it would be her guts that failed not his. She acknowledged to herself that Heath had proved many times over he had guts equal to his father and with every word he spoke his guts spilled out.

Her current thoughts were suddenly interrupted as Heath drew a long guttural breath and sat up again with his gaze piercing the wall opposite showing he was ready to continue. Victoria willed herself to be strong as she surmised the coming revelations.

A couple of times since his acceptance into the family Victoria had seen the deep, ridges chaotically crisscrossing his back for he had never tried to hide them and when he had seen her shocked look he would remind himself to be more mindful of others in future. He acknowledged the presence of the cruel welts with just one word “Carterson.” It was a word that said everything and she nor anyone else ever asked further for which he was grateful because truth be told since leaving the Union hospital and until this morning he couldn’t explain them. They were there, they were a part of him and Carterson was the reason. The only saving grace about the scars being positioned on his back he himself never had to look at them and Victoria accepted the nonchalant way he responded and believed they were of little consequence to him and never queried their existence further. Mrs. Victoria Barkley braced herself ready to hear how he had received the scars, the roughness of which she had clearly felt through his shirt earlier and silently asked the spirit of her dead husband to be with her as Heath started to talk again.

“I neither assisted nor resisted as they hauled and shoved me to a cell. It was about six foot by four and raised off the ground by a timber floor. I was made to strip and my clothes or rags as they were fast becoming were taken away. The door was closed and securely bolted. I listened to the two guards laughing at my expense on their way outside. The cell was in semi darkness. It was lit only by a six inch square hole high up in the outside wall and a spy hole in the door. Eventually as my eyes became accustomed to the dark I saw a bucket filled with water in the corner nearest the door. I didn’t see anyone but I heard a harsh voice kind of sinister it was telling me to wash. I reasoned that if I was going to be flogged I might as well, as the saying goes be hanged for a steer as a calf, so I took the only opportunity since becoming a prisoner to wash myself. It sure was good. Having completed my wash I sat on the floor and rested my back against the rough timber wall. Trying to keep my mind off what was to come I watched the particles of dust dancing in the six inch shaft of light. Even with the smell and the sound from outside it became almost peaceful and despite my fear I allowed my mind to wander and take me back home, for that is where I wanted to be.

“I don’t know how long I’d been sitting, waiting and fantasizing but I suddenly became aware that I was being watched. I felt as if icy, cold, fingers were stroking my spine. I looked up at the spy hole in the door and saw two eyes staring at me. Yellowish they were. I recognized the eyes. I’d seen them before. Now the feeling of dread took hold of me twisting my gut in earnest as I recalled where I’d seen those eyes. The first time was in Bentell’s headquarters. They’d been leering at me all the time I was being interrogated. The eyes belonged to a large grotesque looking sergeant of the guard. He had been the one meticulous in his quest to manhandle me when I was searched before leaving Bentell’s headquarters. Since that day I had often seen him leering at me. His gaze evident of his desire and lust added to the constant nausea I felt inside. I had told Jack about it and he told me to take care not to look at him and try not to draw attention to myself. From then on I tried to do as Jack told me. It wasn’t easy and many times though I didn’t look I would get the feeling that those eyes were leering at me. I knew their intent.

“Now men have needs and this was a camp filled with men. The men would handle their needs in different ways. Some would be too ill and some would be strong and ignore their needs and have control over themselves. Some would pleasure themselves and some would initiate a relationship with another prisoner and pleasure each other. As long as they didn’t interfere with any of us that was fine. You didn’t have to like what was going on but you could put up with it. How ever it would seem that some of the guards had needs too and they took advantage of their position. Now it started to dawn on me why some of the prisoners were always clean and why some of them seemed better fed than others. Favors given or taken were often repaid in kind. Favors begat favors.

“I now realized why I was in the cell. To some men a boy is beautiful and I was a boy. This guard had noticed me from the beginning and was determined to have me. He’d waited his moment and pounced. I on the other hand was determined that he wasn’t going to have me no matter what it took.

“It might have been an hour or two that I was left to stew and sweat until eventually the door opened and there he stood his ghastly form silhouetted in the doorway. The glimmer of light from the six inch square hole distorted and illuminated his lecherous grin. He only had a few teeth and they were rotten and discolored. I stayed seated on the wooden floor keeping my arms wrapped tightly around my legs while he tried to sweet talk me. I didn’t listen to him. I let my thoughts carry me miles away. I felt his breath on me. And even through the stench of the camp I could smell it stale and foul as he leaned in close to me. ‘This isn’t going to happen to me. This wasn’t happening to me.’ I kept telling myself.

“Eventually he lost patience and grabbed out at me and lifted me up from the floor and into him. This is when I went wild. I scratched, gouged, thumped, punched, head butted, pinched, lifted my knees up and kicked out hard with them. I flayed my legs but was frustrated by my feet because they were bootless. I was fast becoming done in as I bucked and twisted and gave him everything I could but I was no match for his superior size and strength. He shook me viciously and then with one well aimed blow to my jaw I went out like a light.

“When I came round it was dusk. It took me a while to realize where I was and what had happened. My head throbbed. My body and jaw ached. And I was sore. I knew what had happened. I had been used, defiled and violated.

“I sat myself up and scurried backwards into a corner. I find it hard to know how to describe how I felt. I know I felt sick inside, cheap, ashamed, dirty, guilty, soiled and unclean. All these feelings I had and yet I had done nothing wrong. It didn’t matter that I could remember nothing of it. I had been innocent and my innocence had been stolen from me.

“While I was out cold someone had seen fit to throw my clothes and boots into the cell. I had felt them as I scrambled across the floor. Now I felt for them in the dark and feverishly dressed myself. I sat thinking of all the things I wanted to do and yet found myself unable. I wanted to pull my hair out. I wanted to scream and scream. I wanted to bash my brains out against the wall. I wanted to do anything that could take these feelings of being used and unclean away from me. I didn’t cry, not then. I couldn’t shed a tear. Not for that and nor have I since.

“Eventually the door was opened and at gunpoint I was forced out and thrown back in to the prison corral. Fortunately it was dark and but for the lanterns on the perimeter I couldn’t be seen. But in my mind I could feel the accusing eyes of each and every prisoner boring in to me. I made my way to our dugout and climbed in hiding myself under the canvas. My buddies were all there but I was too ashamed to say anything or acknowledge them. I curled myself up and turning my back tried to draw myself away from them. I scratched at the dirt and forced it into my bare skin until it was raw and bleeding hoping to make myself as dirty and grimy as I had been early that morning. By so doing I hoped to cleanse myself.

“I don’t think I slept that night and when the day started and the monotonous prison life began I had to be rallied by my buddies. Being in a place like Carterson it is hard to feel motivated and yet being part of a group we kept each other going. If it hadn’t been for my buddies I’d have given in then for I no longer had any reason to survive. They never once asked nor acknowledged what had happened to me but I reckon they knew. I think they thought it best not to say anything. I was grateful for I had difficulty in looking straight at any of them. I’m not sure whether they were right though. Perhaps I needed to talk about it. I don’t know.

“For the while I stopped feeling hungry and if it hadn’t been for them I reckon I would have stopped eating altogether for life no longer had any meaning. They made sure I collected my rations and made sure I ate. Only once was the incident kind of hinted at and that was by Jack when he told me things would get better and it would never happen again. I asked how he could be so sure and he just told me to believe him.

“Well he was right in the short term because for the next month life more or less went back to normal, well as normal as it could be in that place, except the five of them rarely left me on my own. As time went on I grew surly and sullen and extremely edgy. Frequently I would snap at them for very little reason. I could feel myself pushing them away but could not stop myself. More than once one of them had had to pull me away from another prisoner I was intent on killing. ‘I’ being the optimum word because I usually started the fighting. The conditions were impossible it was so overcrowded, another prisoner only had to touch or knock into me I would go at him. And in that place it was difficult not to touch someone. By the end of the second month I guess I had achieved my objective because once again I found myself being left alone. Although my buddies kept their distance they still stood by me.

“Throughout this period the routine of prison life continued. The same rosters were worked. The tunnel continued to grow day by day, inch by inch. Disease and poor health flourished and we grew weaker. The stench became stronger. The noise never abated. Prisoners continued to be flogged. We fought amongst ourselves for food, clothing or anything that could make living more bearable. Prisoners fighting, myself included became more frequent and sometimes death would be the result. Theft amongst inmates became rife. New prisoners kept arriving replacing and outnumbering the corpses which were daily laid at the stockade gates. More prisoners meant further cramping of our living space and food rations having to be stretched further and overall life became more and more insufferable.

“The new prisoners would bring with them news of how the war was going but it didn’t help matters for us. As the Union gained power so the camp conditions deteriorated further and faster.”

Victoria took respite to compose herself during a lull as Heath fleshed out the circumstances within the prison camp. She had braced herself to learn of a flogging which would have been bad enough but now she sat appalled, disgusted and revolted not knowing how to assimilate what she had heard. She looked across at him, and could see the child he had been ten years earlier, the child who had become the gentle man she knew and had grown to love and tried with all her heart to understand what he had been through. Even with his descriptions and thorough revelations she could not start to imagine what it must have been like for him. “I want to understand but I don’t know whether I can. What you are telling me is unreal and unbelievable and yet I know it is true.” Silently she voiced her own inadequacies. Then feeling her strength returning quietly prayed that when the revelations were completed she could be as strong and brave as him. She knew how wrong and cruel she had been this day and she admonished herself.

Part 6

“For a time, about a month possibly, I had not been approached,” Although Heath had not stopped in his narrative Victoria readied herself for the rest of the disclosures not knowing what to expect. From what she had heard already she had learned to expect anything for she now believed there was nothing more that could shock her. Her fortitude had been waning but now she felt a resurgence of power and knew she had the strength to hear Heath through to the end.

“But then again after a short while I became aware of the eyes watching me again. As my skin started to crawl I decided I would die in the prison corral rather than let myself be taken again. Anything but be taken again. What I didn’t realize was that Jack, Hank, Paddy, Jed and Wes had seen them too and they had sworn I wouldn’t be taken again either. Although they now gave me space they still watched over me as I found out the day the guards came for me.

“This day I was in the dugout watching over Jed who had been seriously sick for two days with what I’d later learn was dysentery. Jed was out of it, unaware of what was happening when they came for me. Our dugout being on the edge was easily accessible and at gun point I was ordered out. I complied and as I scrambled up the edge I seized the opportunity and grabbed a handful of grit and dirt and threw it at one of the guards. He closed his eyes and clutched them with his freehand. Taking that moment I head butted the other guard in the belly before he knew what was happening and I made a run for it.

“From then everything happened too fast. I felt myself falling towards another dugout after being pushed as Jack and Wes were attacking the two guards. The prisoners in this dugout held on to me and wouldn’t let me out even though I struggled frantically. Helplessly I watched as more guards arrived and Jack and Wes were soon overpowered and dragged off to the solitary confinement cells. Amongst all the ruckus I was forgotten. When it settled down the other prisoners let me go and I reasoned they’d saved me from the same fate as Jack and Wes.

“Another night I spent not sleeping, understanding what Jack and Wes had done for me and knowing what the next day would bring. Jack had said it wouldn’t happen again and he meant me to believe it. I was sorely grateful to both of them but I was also struck with guilt and remorse because but for me neither of them would be awaiting the brutal punishment that was sure to be given. And it would be brutal of that there could be no doubt. Both of them had attacked prison guards, the ultimate crime. All the prisoners would be taught the grave lesson that came with such behavior. An example would be made of Jack and Wes. Our fellow inmates would see what happens to Union prisoners who attack Confederate guards. For this crime there was no tolerance level. I’d never seen guards attacked before and I only hoped that the death penalty would not be given because there was always a possibility. There is only one thing that can be said about not sleeping and that is that it holds back the evil moment from arriving too soon.

“There is no way of stopping it for time relentlessly travels along and as always morning came. This day I didn’t watch the dawn sky and wonder what was in store for I knew. Mid morning the punishments and floggings usually took place directly after role call. Jed was still ill but insisted on being there because Jack and Wes were his friends too and like all of us he needed to show them that he cared. At the same time none of us wanted to witness what was to come.

“Role call was over so we were all mustered in our units which was to be expected when the two prisoners were brought out to the whipping pen. Bentell appeared on his parapet and the punishments were read out and they were severe as I knew they would be. But I thanked God that they would live. I’d seen the floggings so often by now but I had never become numbed to them. Most of the time I closed my eyes because although you were supposed to watch there was no way the guards could make you. But this day I watched because two of my buddies were taking the punishment that should have been mine.

“I didn’t think it was ever going to be over and I was feeling sick again. Brave as they were both bodies went limp before the final stroke was struck. Then the waiting began. Waiting through the heat of the day until dusk when they would be cut down and either taken to the hospital or released to the corral. As the units disbanded I sat on the dry earth where I spent the rest of the day watching and waiting. I couldn’t suffer for them but I could suffer with them. Hank and Paddy returned Jed to the dugout and returned a little before dusk to help Jack and Wes back. For their sakes fortunately this day the weather had been cool to temperate and the flies where at a minimum.

“It was just as the sun started to sink that the guards arrived to cut them down. First throwing the remainder of Jack’s and Wes’s ragged uniforms out to us, the guards went over to the whipping posts. Paddy, Hank and I stood as close as we could ready to assist for we were not allowed over the dead line.

“What happened next may well have been in slow motion for it is sealed so vividly into my mind and comes back to haunt me in nightmares. The picture is so very clear. The hemp on each was cut simultaneously. Wes readied himself, stayed standing and leaned and supported himself against the whipping post as the feeling came back to his arms whereas Jack dropped like a sack of grain to the earth. For what was only a minute but seemed like an eternity we watched and waited helplessly. One guard sank his boot into Jack’s side and when there was no response he bent down and felt over him with his hands. The next thing the guard was calling for assistance and we watched dumbfounded as they each took hold by lifting a leg and proceeded to drag Jack over to the large stockade gates where he was unceremoniously dumped ready for the next days burial party. Not being allowed near, Wes, as we did, watched disbelieving. Mesmerized I stayed looking at his body realizing I hadn’t seen any form of movement from Jack in a long while. Wes forced himself to walk over to us where I’m sure he would have collapsed had not Paddy and Hank taken hold of him.

“Sometime during that day Corporal Jackson Dewhurst had died. Later in the Union hospital I learnt that it was probably heart failure. That he probably had a faulty heart and that any time during his life he could have dropped dead. Knowing later or having known it at the time would not have made me feel any better. It was because of me that Jack had been punished. It was because of me that Jack had died.

“The opportunity for me to thank him for saving me had been denied. I could never tell him I was sorry and I never had the chance to say goodbye. I had frequently witnessed death since becoming a soldier and I had frequently killed and death was always present there at Carterson. Death was not a stranger to me but never before had I felt like this....... I was instrumental in killing my friend and I stood and witnessed his death....... How does one carry that around inside oneself? How do you come to terms with that? How do you live with yourself?” His words came across quietly devoid of expression almost as if someone else was asking but the slight tremors evident hung in the air with the silence.

The questions had been voiced and although he didn’t look to her Victoria felt she was being addressed. “I don’t know.” She wanted to say but she knew he wasn’t asking her because some time many years ago he must have found the answer or he would not have been here now living in the Barkley mansion with his family. A long time ago he had obviously learned to live with it. “But how?” she thought.

Heath didn’t look at her and Victoria again honestly wondered if he knew she was there listening to him. She was very careful not to speak nor to make a sound for fear of startling him. The growing darkness in the room created an eeriness which added to her uneasiness. She felt now as though she was being drawn into one of his nightmares and becoming a part of it. Unhappily she accepted she had been an instigator in this nightmare if this was what it was. She was finally understanding the anguished screams for help, the tormented cries to be left alone and the frantic struggles which she had witnessed during his sleep after he had been shot by Evan Miles. Anytime now she felt he would finish talking and the screaming and cries would start which would ordinarily be the time she or one of his siblings would come in to help him calm.

If he was caught in one of his nightmares then she wondered whether this rendition would do him any good but she didn’t dare stop him because there was no way she could be sure. For the moment she knew for his sake she needed him to continue and she would sit and listen and not for the first time this evening, in her own mind question and wonder how she could have been so callous and unthinking in her intentions this day. If this was not a nightmare for him then it was fast becoming a nightmare for her and the mother inside her wanted only to take hold of him now and kiss him better telling him that everything would be alright. But she did not know whether it would be or if ever it could be. The territory they were both in had not been charted.

It was Heath who brought his stepmother out of her dismal thoughts as he started to speak again his eyes never leaving the opposite wall. The tremors had gone and he spoke with certainty. “I stood there and for a long while looked at his body, disbelieving what had occurred and what the four of us had witnessed. I kept telling myself that it should have been me there. Then, as though I heard voices I knew what I had to do. I knew what Jack would have expected of me. It was as though he was talking to me.” Heath suddenly turned and for the first time with sad doleful eyes full of despair he addressed his question at his stepmother. “I think you know what he would expect too, don’t you?” Abruptly she was shaken as she realized he was fully aware of her presence. And she knew this nightmare was not his. It was now hers.

Victoria wasn’t sure whether she was being deluded but as she looked into his eyes, frantically seeking an answer, amidst the despair in a moment’s flash she saw a tiny glimmer of hope.

Panicking she thought of a reply hoping it was the right one but before she could utter a word Heath spoke. “He had given his life for me, he had died for me and I knew somehow I had to live to make his death meaningful. I had to survive if his death was not to have been in vain. It was a tall order and there was no way of knowing whether I could accomplish it but that evening I vowed that I would strive to justify his dying. I was determined to survive, to live.” And so saying he looked back at the wall and once again let his tormented thoughts of yesteryear feed his narrative. Unfolding his arms he clasped his hands together and trapped them between his knees and now let his tale flow with passion.

“I said my last farewells and returned to the dugout.”

Part 7

“Five days later Wes died.” Although she was prepared for anything Victoria didn’t expect this and put a hand to her mouth to suppress a gasp knowing now she was going to learn what had become of his other friends. Heath did not falter in his telling feeling a power stronger than his was driving him to reach the end.

“His back was in a bad way although he tried to pretend otherwise. It must have hurt like the very devil but I couldn’t imagine how much. We none of us had the means but we did what we could. Medicine was never available. At that time we knew nothing about germs or infections but we realized the bloody wounds needed cleaning. We used my water ration from one of our cups. It wasn’t much but it seemed to help. It wasn’t ’til the next day that it became evident that he was ill. As Jed’s health improved Wes’s health started rapidly deteriorating. We did what we could which was practically nothing. We felt helpless. We were helpless. In desperation we even considered taking him to the hospital but Wes became aware and begged us not to. He said if he was going to die then he wanted to die with us close by, to be with those he knew, those he cared about and those he knew cared about him. I guess he knew then that he was dying.

“The last time he was lucid he spoke telling me I was not to blame myself for what had happened. He said he and Jack had made the decision and it was their choice no one had forced them and certainly not me. And if they’d had to make the choice again then they would do the same and gladly. He said it for my sake. I know that. It helped but it didn’t make me feel better. I didn’t want to admit it but I knew shortly I would have the death of both my buddies and comrades in arms on my conscience.

“It took two more days before he died in agony. In that hell hole many times I’d heard the screams of the dying but never had I witnessed it so close. There was no calming him until the quiet before dawn. Now the poison that was in his blood seemed to ease it’s hold on him and the death rattle began. I held him, I wanted to, I needed to. He breathed his last there in my arms just as the light of the new day brightened the sky. Now I understood why it went almost quiet at this time. The screams of the dying ceased. It was when most died. As the sun rose for the living I knew Wesley Gardner had seen his final sunset. There in Carterson it was death’s time.

“Paddy and Hank carried his body to the gates and later managed to get on the burial party to ensure he was respectfully laid to rest.

“From that day on I never again saw that sergeant of the guard nor was I ever bothered by the guards again. I don’t know what became of him. The thoughts of him stayed with me and it left me uneasy and fearful always being edgy, tense and moody thereafter. I don’t want to think of him now or ever again.

“Through his need and because of me two of our gang were dead. There were four of us now and although Jed was better he never fully recovered. As with all of us dysentery was a recurring sickness which left each of us after every bout weaker than before but seemed to affect Jed the most. We continued to exist in the filth and the squalor of our own making not being helped by how we were managed or kept. I have known animals better kept than we were. We weren’t dim enough not to realize that our living conditions inflamed the sickness in the camp. But we didn’t understand how and had we known there was nothing we could have done anyway.” Heath gave a shrug of his shoulders denoting the uselessness of the situation. Victoria understood and thought he was becoming more animated in his telling.

“Time went by and we existed best we could. We existed, not lived from now on. No one could call what we did living. Existed with the spirits of Jack and Wes close by us. Knowing the end of the war could not be far off. We had hope and while we had hope we had a future and we fought to survive. I would fight tooth and nail for what was mine and for what I thought could be mine. The rags off a dead inmate or blankets which were left unguarded. Some did, but I never stole from those in more need than myself. I could never have lived with myself had I.

“The tunnel digging went on and it was almost under the stockade wall by January shortly before Jed died. He took bad again with dysentery but died unexpectedly during a bitter, cold night. We’d all huddled together beneath our canvas to try to keep warm. I thought I could never be more cold than I was then but somehow I’d managed to sleep. We woke in the morning as the new day started only to find that Jed had passed away during the night. I think in his weakened condition with dysentery the exposure had taken care of his suffering.

“There were more deaths than normal that night obviously caused by severe cold and exposure. As they had done for Wes, Paddy and Hank carried his body to the stockade gates but this time I took on burial duty to ensure Jethro Mullens too was buried with dignity, as much as could be and to say a few words for him.

“From now on as time went by our existence became intolerably worse.

“From January to April we three managed to survive. Mid March to April seemed to bring a change and not only in the weather. Paddy who always seemed to rise above everything stopped telling his stories, gone was any fun that still lingered in him and he appeared to believe that we would never get out of the camp. Hank became more and more morose, the way we were living, what we needed to do to survive had been slowly eating away at him and with him being honorable and trustworthy the guilt he carried was getting too much for him. I kept myself going because I had made a promise to a departed friend that fateful day and I was now weaker in body but spiritually stronger than both my remaining friends. I was determined I was going to make it out of that camp.

“Although the deaths continued to mount there were few if any new prisoners. We heard no news from the outside. We were a lot weaker and our uniforms were now noticeably hanging from us. Some times we went a couple of days without food rations. Other than for burial duty the work parties didn’t go out each day so there were days we had no wood for building fires nor water to drink. During this time things were real bad.

“Those of us who were still capable made a last ditch effort to complete the tunnel. It seemed to be our only chance of ever getting out of that God forsaken place alive. About a couple of weeks into April we finally broke through about four yards outside the stockade wall where the land sloped down. It faced away from the camp therefore unseen from the guards on the parapet.” Victoria couldn’t help noticing the significance of the timing of the escape as Heath turned and looked at her and gave a crooked but cynical smile, “You know don’t you?” he asked. Sadly his stepmother nodded in the affirmative.

“We decided on the following night to make our escape during the hours of darkness,” Heath went on with his telling, “before the light of the moon came round to that side of the camp. We thought no further than being on the outside of the stockade walls. Any more decisions would be made once we were in the tunnel. We were so demoralized that we were frightened to think or plan any further.

“There were only twenty three of us making the escape. Those of us still alive who had been involved in the digging who felt they were strong enough to make the attempt. From the beginning there had been three times that many involved in the digging but many were now dead as Jack, Wes and Jed were and there many who were no longer well enough mentally or physically to make the attempt. With the break out having been decided I noticed a positive change in Paddy and Hank. This is what they both needed to rekindle their hope. The driving force and the power within me had been the vow I had made to Jack.

“Anxiety kept us company for most of the day of the escape. Fear that something would happen to prevent us even attempting it. I never worried about the actual escape I would take my chance like the others just as long as we weren’t prevented from trying. It is hard for someone who wasn’t there to understand what making that escape meant to me, to all of us.”

This small aside Heath made for the benefit of his stepmother who had sat silent and motionless throughout his telling. He could not fathom at the thoughts which were going through her head he only hoped that he had not alienated her further with the distasteful revelations he had disclosed. This evening he had poured out his soul to her after a day in which his trust and love for his new family had been badly shaken. A day in which the last face he had ever seen in Carterson had come back to haunt him. A day in which his family had chosen his enemy over him. A day in which he learnt that the love for him by his new family was conditional.

There seemed to be so many hoops he needed to jump through to be an accepted member. This hoop today had been too difficult. He had not been given a choice nor had he been asked for his opinion. He had been told that he was to go to the logging camp to protect Bentell and thereby lose his hate and anger. The decision made was as direct as that and there were no guarantees that fulfilling their demands would remove his hate or anger. Then when he stormed from the study determined that he was going to leave this house his stepmother had come offering him an olive branch. He hadn’t exactly jumped at the chance to spill his guilt and shame out to her but knew that it might be the only chance he had of coming to terms and accepting Carterson for what it was and to remain a part of a family that he had been willing to give his all for.

He no longer wanted Carterson to have a hold of a part of his mind, to appear in anguished nightmares or to turn up unexpectedly as it had today. He wanted to be free of it and be in control. He wanted it to be out in the open. To be accepting of it as a part of his life a part that had helped to make him what he was this day not an evil memory which distorted his mind and had control over him.

Doubts now pervaded his mind questioning whether he was doing right. Memories that for his own sanities sake had been locked away ten years earlier had awakened and for the first time he had shared them with another human being. They were memories which having previously haunted him he now wanted to hold and to remember. It was too late for him to stop his telling and he now knew what he must do to finally defeat the memories of Carterson and would tell his stepmother his intensions, if she still wanted anything to do with him after tonight, when he had disclosed all.

“I was the nineteenth through the tunnel Paddy being directly in front of me and Hank in front of him. We’d wished each other luck and God speed in case we didn’t meet up again. The idea was to break into the open and run for it as fast as we were able to the distant woods. God willing we would not be seen because I feared the condition we were in our running would not be fast. The tunnel was large enough to accommodate us head to toe as we squirmed like worms beneath the ground. The leaders were already out in the open as we drew close to the exit.

“I could just make out the shadow of Hank as he climbed out and then I gave Paddy a last pat of good luck on his foot as he climbed up and out into the open and that was as far as I reached in my attempt to escape. Paddy’s body came hurling head first back into me, his head crashing into mine and I didn’t need to be told that he had been shot. I could feel his warm blood running on to my hair, down my brow, into my eyes and trickling down my face. I moved my head up and his head lolled backwards, upside down, facing me. A glimmer of lantern light caught his lifeless eyes which stared back at me from a bloodied mask. You can imagine what I felt like.” Was all Heath could manage to say about his response to yet another friend’s death. “The bullet had hit him in the head and blessedly he would have known nothing about it.”

Heath took his hands from between his knees, tightly clenched his fists before fiddling with his fingers as he turned his hurt filled blue eyed gaze towards the saddened and apologetic gray ones and unceasingly told the end of his time in Carterson. The Heath Victoria knew was now returning and she could hear him in the voice. His look was as one having been denied and forsaken staring at her accusingly and she feeling guilty accepted she had let him down and finding she could not meet his gaze, looked away. She knew this day for the sake of a stranger she had turned her back on her stepson when he needed her most.

“I hadn’t heard any shooting and could only imagine that being so intent on escaping our minds had shut off to the sounds of gun fire.

“That night eighteen men were shot and killed trying to escape from Carterson. No more would Patrick O’Malley be telling me tales of his emerald isle. As for Harrison Walters he was one of the seventeen bodies that lay scattered on the desolate land outside Carterson. At last they had all found freedom.

“To this day I have no idea what went wrong but the guards were ready and waiting for us. From the tunnel I found myself looking up the barrel of a rifle.

“Myself and the four in the tunnel behind me were led back to the solitary confinement cells to await the punishment for our crime. At the time I had no regrets and I don’t think they had either. If we had had it to do again I reckon we would have done the same.

“Just enough whipping posts I thought for I knew what to expect.

“I’d been here everyday for the past seven months only this time I was on the inside of the wire. I knew the routine well. I was stripped to the waist. The hemp was fitted and pulled taut by means of a slip knot so it dug into my wrists and I was stood up with my face towards the substantial whipping post. It being one and a half yards around its girth. My arms were stretched towards its back and the guard looped the two ends of hemp through the single ring high up at the back and pulled hard down on it ’til I was drawn up so my toes barely touched the ground. The hemp was then secured to a hook lower down.

“The punishment and crime were read out and for once a cheer followed by a jeer went up from the prisoners when they realized that at last some of us had tried to defy the Confederacy. There was still some spirit amongst the prisoners but not enough so as they’d riot. It was too late to save me. Then all went quiet as the whipping began. I was the first. At least I didn’t have the anguish of waiting while the others received their punishment.

“By April I was pretty scrawny and I couldn’t imagine there being enough flesh on my back to satisfy the cut of the whip. I vowed I would not cry out as the rough leather whip lashed into me cutting with a sharp sting turning to a smart and finishing with a burning sensation. It had barely started to smart before the next stroke came startling my back into a reflex action anticipating the next stroke. Just three strokes and my back was on fire. As the lash became wet with my blood so it became sharper with it’s cut. I don’t know whether I cried out or not. As each stroke struck I tried to control the pain to take myself somewhere else away from there. Everywhere became hazy as I started to walk along the sheltered track between the magnificent redwoods to Strawberry. At last I was going home to Mama. I could smell the clean fresh scent of pine. Mama was there waiting for me at the door and as I reached out to her the mist cleared and I was looking up defiantly into the eyes of Bentell standing on the parapet. As our eyes met my buddies came walking by. Jackson Dewhurst, Wesley Gardner, Jethro Mullens, Harrison Walters, Patrick O’Malley as large as life they were. They never let me down, always being there for me. As they faded away I swore to them that if in this life I met up with Bentell again I would kill him. For them, for all the suffering, for all the sickness and disease, for the atrocities committed, for all the meaningless cruelty, for all the needless deaths for everything that was Carterson. Because, to me, he was Carterson.

“Matt Bentell was the last individual I ever saw in Carterson. All my anger and hate was played out on him.

“That’s all I remember from Carterson because the next thing I knew was waking up face down on a cot in a hospital tent. It was a Union hospital. It was some two miles up stream from Carterson. A Union army mobile hospital unit it was. It had been set up specifically for the likes of me. The blue bellies had arrived in the area, set up camp and came to liberate us that afternoon and I had been cut down and brought with many other prisoners to the hospital. The ironical thing about it all was that we were already free men when we made that fateful escape. It just took time for the news to get through was all. The Confederacy had capitulated and a treaty had been signed on the ninth of April. The war ended on the third of April. But you already knew that didn’t you?” With a silent plea hidden in a question Heath stopped speaking. He hoped to keep his stepmother beside him and a wan smile graced his lips as he tried to read the expression not forthcoming on her face.

Part 8

During the revelations dusk had turned to darkness, the drapes had not been drawn and the hoary moonlight illuminated the room and its two occupants. The oration ceased. A branch creaked as it rubbed against the barn roof, fruit bats squeaked as they fluttered on the wing over the stable yard, a barn owl screeched as its talons drawn made its final dive of death at a doomed mouse and in the far distance a lone timber wolf howled to the moon but neither stepmother nor stepson heard for too engrossed were they in their own moment in time.

Victoria was not ready to talk to Heath yet. She was not sure what to say. She needed to get her thoughts in order but her mind was reeling from what she had heard. Earlier when she had asked Heath to help her understand what he had been through while a prisoner she was not prepared for the enormity of his disclosures. True to her word she had with great difficulty remained strong and had stoically listened to every word. There had been times when she felt overwhelmed and ready to breakdown but she had not. She had stayed with her stepson and his telling to the bitter end.

She reflected now at a time while he spoke when she had wanted to take him in her arms and embrace him and kiss him and make everything better but now she recoiled from doing so. It seemed such a futile gesture. He needed more than that. She didn’t know if she had enough to give. The magnitude of what she had heard overpowered her reasoning. For once in her life this petite yet formidable woman felt inadequate. The weakness she felt earlier now took over and without looking longer at Heath she quietly stood and walked over to the window.

As Heath had done earlier she looked out across the valley as a means to discharge the array of feelings which had been warring inside her. Sorrow, regret, remorse, anguish, disgust, revulsion and hurt all vied for attention but only one encompassing all won out. Not hate but anger alone epitomized the feelings inside the Barkley matriarch.

Anger at a husband who had out of desire and need created a child and out of ignorance had left him to an existence of abject misery and cruelty, humiliation and shame, degradation and deprivation.

Anger at a mother whose selfish love had kept the child secret from a father who might have given his son salvation.

Anger at herself for not understanding and being sympathetic when she had been given the opportunity and had turned her back on the child when his need for her was great.

Anger at a house guest who was the ex commander of Carterson the notorious Confederate prison camp where the child had been a pitiful and pathetic captive. Inside herself Victoria was seething and her hands clenched tightly to the sill vacated by the sash.

There was a muffled sound in the room which startled Victoria into awareness breaking her from her angry thoughts. Turning she looked over at Heath and saw glistening in the moonlight tears freely running down his cheeks. The sounds she heard were the sobs he tried unsuccessfully to conceal from her. So overcome with despondency and insecurities after his revelations Heath had misread Victoria’s action. He had finished his account and was now undeniably back in the present. Making the revelations had irrefutably squeezed at his raw emotions. Revelations which had been kept buried deep inside for too many years had now been released and with them came freedom. Although it had not been the disclosures which had triggered the tearful flood of emotions Heath found relief in them. Any control he once had was forfeited when the tears began.

Now was not the time for anger now was the time for action. A few minutes earlier she had recoiled from holding Heath but now she did what came instinctively for a distressed child is a sight no mother can ignore. Victoria moved over to Heath and standing close she let her arms envelop him pulling his head and quivering body firmly against her. He didn’t resist he left it there allowing himself the comfort she offered as he cried inconsolably. Ten years of hidden grief, heartache and anguish spilled forth. The sobs became louder and were interspersed as he hitched for breath. There was no hurry. With her own tears of anger and shame quietly spilling on to his troubled head Victoria held him until he was spent.

When he was able Heath started to talk. “You couldn’t bear it.” His quiet distressed voice was stilted and he was hitching for breath. “You turned your back on me.”

“Pardon Heath?” Victoria could not understand the meaning behind what he was saying. Was he referring back to earlier in the day she considered.

“You turned your back on me. You’re ashamed.” His voice hitched as he tried to get the words out. “Now you know what happened. You’re ashamed of me aren’t you?”

“Is that what you think?” Victoria said realizing that the mere action of leaving him to go and stand by the window had brought about a flood of tears that his revelations could not. How could she have been so heartless she thought even now after the horrors that she had heard she had failed to consider what Heath needed. All he had wanted this day was support and understanding from the family he had grown to love. Selfishly she had seen to her own needs and gone and stood by the window leaving him feeling doubly rejected in a day which had turned out to be far from perfect.

Heath nodded dejectedly and she felt the movement as he visibly pulled away from her. Her anger was still high when Victoria managed to stop herself from crossly retorting. “Heath Barkley how could you think such a thing of me?” Shamefully she knew it was easy for him to think such an action from her after the way she had treated and talked to him earlier. A day when Heath had needed love and support from her and neither had been forthcoming

Pulling Heath back into her she began to explain her actions. “I’m sorry Heath. I needed fresh air. I needed to breathe. That’s why I went to the window. If I’d have known you’d think I was turning my back on you then I would not have gone over there. No Heath I’m not ashamed of you. I could never be ashamed of you. I’m ashamed of me. I’m ashamed of what happened today. The way I behaved and talked to you. Worrying about you wanting to kill Bentell and not once considering why you would want to kill him. Worrying about Bentell and his wife and how they’ve been affected by the war and never wondering about how you might have been affected. Never once truly imagining what you must have gone through in that prison camp nor what you did to survive or what you must have been feeling like finding Bentell in our living room. Telling you that you had to go with him to the logging camp to get rid of your hate and anger towards him and not knowing whether it could work or whether it would be right for you. Then to finish it off with threatening you about having the guts that your father had. Heath I never could be ashamed of you. I’m ashamed of myself.” Victoria disclosed hoping her explanation would reassure him.

Victoria could feel Heath trying to compose himself and she gently released her hold on him allowing him to sit up and take some steadying breaths. Smoothing out her dress Victoria sat down close to her stepson on the edge of the bed . Turning towards Heath Victoria took out her lace handkerchief and wiped away her own tears. When Heath felt better he turned and looked into her face and a small, sad, smile creased the corners of his mouth. Victoria took her now damp handkerchief and gently wiped away the salty wetness that still clung to his lashes. His eyes were red but she could see a sparkle and a sensitivity which was Heath. The man she knew had all but returned. She didn’t know what it was that caused it but she felt a surge running through her and knew that somehow things were going to be alright.

“I don’t think my handkerchief is large enough. You’ll have to use your own Heath. You need to blow your nose and I think you might blow mine away.” Victoria tried to joke feeling anything but jovial. She watched as he responded to her by fumbling through his pockets until he found his more substantial handkerchief and proceeded to clear his nose.

“I’m sorry,” Heath’s quavering voice addressed Victoria, “I’m ashamed, you must think I’m dreadful?”

“I don’t know what you are sorry for and I don’t want to hear any more about you being ashamed and I don’t think you’re dreadful.” Victoria responded returning Heath’s smile.

“I’m ashamed about having blubbered over you like a baby. Men don’t cry. Especially in front of a lady. I’m sorry.” Heath tried to explain himself knowing deep down inside himself there were many more feelings fighting for attention. But he was assured now knowing that his new mother would not desert him and knowing that she had not rejected him.

“Heath Barkley I’m only glad that you cried if you had not I would have thought there was something wrong with you. You are human Heath. And that’s what humans do. They cry. You have shown me the humanity that I would expect from you and the sensitivity I know is inside you.” Victoria mockingly chastised Heath before relating about her late husband. “Your father cried in front of me too so you see you have one definite trait from your father. Some day I’ll tell you about it but not now. His guts you may not have but you have your own and I’ve seen them in plenty this evening. I’m sorry Heath for saying that to you I had no right.” She watched as he acknowledged her words, creases appearing at each corner of his mouth. “Now we have more pressing matters to discuss I think.”

“It’s the first time I’ve cried in all these years since..... since you know.” Heath managed to say referring back to a time before one particular incident in the prison camp. Victoria understood what he was referring to but chose to defer mentioning the incident and responding to what he said she feigned surprise before firmly stating, “Well then it was not before time was it?”

Despite himself Heath shook his head “No Ma’am,” to agree with his stepmother.

“Thank you.” Heath went on to speak knowing there was still more to be aired before this issue was resolved. “Thank you for listening to me. For being here for me. It can’t have been easy for you. You’re the only person I have ever told it to.”

Quizzically Victoria looked at him. “You have never told anyone else?” She asked finding it hard to believe that in ten years he had never talked of his ordeal with anyone.

“No,” he shook his head. “It’s very easy really. Until today I couldn’t remember it. Well not in the same way. Not so it made sense.” Looking at the perplexed face of his new mother he realized he needed to explain. He kept his handkerchief in his hands and picked and fiddled with it and then realizing what he was doing he pushed it back into one of his pockets and stretched his hands out and took Victoria’s dainty ones in his rough callused ones and held them firm while he looked into the concerned but now caring gray eyes. “As I said earlier. I never lied to you, any of you. Until Bentell came here I didn’t remember what happened in the prison camp.

“I think this might be hard to explain but I will try and get it straight for you. It wasn’t that I’d really forgotten because you can’t truthfully forget something like that. When I woke up in that hospital and I mean truly woke up I had no idea what had happened or what I was doing there. The medical staff had to explain to me where I had been and what had happened to me. I was pretty sick. It wasn’t just the whip marks on my back you understand. It was more than that. So you see I was actually months in the hospital recovering. For a short while after the explanation I’d been given the memories came back to me. I was able to ask about the camp and learn the whys and wherefores about life or death inside a place like Carterson. I learnt about the sickness and disease and why Wes had died. It was probably blood poisoning caused from the water we washed the wounds with. I learnt the possible cause of Jack’s death. I learnt about causes of most of the deaths. For some reason at the time I needed to understand. And the Union staff were good and they humored me. For a week or two I seemed alright and my health was improving but then I took a turn for the worse and for much of the time after that I was out of it or I was barely aware and existed in a fog. This is when the nightmares began. At these times my sleep, which took up most of my time was invaded with them; the horrors that I’d experienced in the prison camp. The dreams were very real and in them I lived through the experiences. Over and over again the same things happening to me and around me.

“Everything that I have told you this evening was in my dreams. The faces were there, the guards were there all the prisoners were there. The cruelty and atrocities. I’d wake up out of the nightmare screaming and soaked with sweat and terrified. I could remember the dream alright but none of it made sense. Eventually I couldn’t put names to any of the faces. I didn’t know what any of them meant to me. I didn’t know what was going on. For a while even in my waking hours I was tormented. Well as my health gradually improved and I recovered so the dreams and nightmares became less frequent. As you know I’ve never been without the nightmares and they are always intense but somehow I learned to live with them. Eventually they only came back to haunt me when I was sick, banged up or stressed out about something.

“I had a hard time when I first came to live here trying to get some sleep and keep the nightmares to myself. I reckon I was pretty successful there because you didn’t know anything about them ’til I was thrown from that bronc and was banged up against the fence and after I was shot by Evan Miles. The memories stayed with me in my dreams. I guess your mind is a strange thing really somehow over the years its been kind of protecting me not allowing me the whole story. Not until it thought I could deal with it or when it thought I had help to deal with it.” Heath stopped and gave a knowing wink to Victoria. “It kept it all pretty much locked away. Until today that is. Until I saw Bentell face to face and I recognized him and all the other faces in my dreams came swirling back. The guards, the prisoners, that sergeant of the guard and my five friends. And finally I knew who they all were and what they meant to me. I could put names to some of the faces. And finally I knew what had been going on.

“Suddenly a part of myself has been given back to me. That doesn’t sound right but that part has been with me all the time able to haunt and torment me and I’ve had to keep a tight hold of it. And suddenly today it escaped and for the first time since I was in that prison camp I know what it all means and thank you for being here for me, for listening to me because I reckon it was time for it all to come out. It’s almost feels like I’ve been liberated for the first time.” Heath was animated by the realization that talking to his stepmother had made him feel almost complete.

“Well that solves a problem I was having.” Victoria stated as Heath raised an eye brow questioningly at her. “I worried how over these nine months since you’ve been with us I could have been so blind to what Carterson had done to you.”

“Oh Carterson did a lot to me but as long as I was well and not stressed I was capable of keeping it much under control. So you don’t need to distress yourself on that one.” Even now after what his stepmother had put him through this day Heath had compassion and was able to allay his mothers guilt. Heath could bear a grudge as well as anyone but his new mother had apologized and in the end had been there for him and he wasn’t going to let her suffer needlessly on his account.

“Thank you Heath for explaining it to me.” So saying Victoria leaned forward and gave him a kiss of thank you. “Can you live with it Heath?” She went on to ask.

“What, live with the memories?” Victoria nodded her ascent to Heath’s query. “I have lived with it.”

“Yes. I know, but can you live with it now? Knowing what they are?” Victoria repeated the question.

Normally Heath would delay answering questions allowing himself time to think but tonight he responded with assurance. “Yes I think so. More so now I believe. At least I hope so. I’m glad it’s out in the open. I’m glad I know the truth of what happened and what all the dreams were about. I’m not sure if they can torment me any more. I finally have an answer to everything I dreamt.”

“How do you feel?” While he was forthcoming Victoria intended to keep him that way because she knew Bentell still hadn’t been discussed. She knew the conversation would come round to him eventually and when it did she knew what she was going to say.

“I already feel freer more accepting of it. I understand what’s been going on in my head all these years. I didn’t do anything wrong did I? I didn’t need to feel ashamed did I? I behaved much as everyone else did under the circumstances. I was caught up in a situation beyond my control wasn’t I? Fighting to survive against the odds. I fought because I had to. I did what I did to survive. I didn’t steal anything that wasn’t already available. I never took from the weak or the dying. At the beginning I shared the items the others found and I never asked how they’d come by them because I was so grateful. But I don’t really know that they didn’t come by them honestly. These were some of the thoughts and fears that were going through my head while I was dreaming. And when I’d wake up I’d be suffering from guilt. I’d feel ashamed. I reckon I can be more accepting of it now.

“What happened to me was a fact. How I existed was a fact. How I dealt with it was a fact. What I saw and experienced was a fact and I can’t change it but now I hope I’ll be able to live with it out in the open.” There was no doubt that to Victoria Heath had already changed. His demeanor had altered and already he was talking about things he never once would mention. His innermost feelings were coming to the fore and she knew it could be only for the good in the long run.

“What about your friends Heath? Can you handle their deaths?” Victoria was worried that now he knew the part he had played in their deaths that it would be something new that would start tormenting him.

“Yes, I reckon. I’m glad I remember them. They were good for me. We had a camaraderie.” He smiled and his face lit up for the first time this day Victoria saw the light shining in his eyes. “I think that’s the right word. We did for each other. Friends like that don’t come along too much in a life time and I’m glad I can remember them finally. There was some good in that camp. I know I came to terms with Jack’s and Wes’s death back there in the camp. Jack’s memory kept me alive. He gave me strength. If it wasn’t for him I don’t think I’d be here. I know that now. In my dreams I kept seeing him falling from that whipping post and it terrified me because I didn’t know who he was or what had happened. But somehow I knew it had something to do with me. I know the truth now. It was that sergeant that killed him. I’m not trying to shirk his death.... but... but for that sergeant he and Wes might still be alive.”

“The sergeant Heath, what he did to you can you accept that and live with it?” Victoria had to mention it because the abhorrence of the act upon her stepson had troubled her greatly and she needed to know if Heath could handle it before she could herself.

“Yes. In some ways he might be the easiest one to come to terms with. I don’t reckon there was anything I left out. It seems to me I told you the lot.” Heath now tried to make light of the experience and Victoria detected a little embarrassment. She feared he was going to avoid answering her last question but he didn’t. He went quiet for a moment to reflect on what had happened and then began to speak. “Out of everything that happened in that camp what happened with him I can’t remember. I know I was there in the cell and I can remember all of that very clearly. But he knocked me out and I definitely don’t remember anything until I came around. As far as my memory is concerned he may or he may not have. I will never remember it. I only know how I felt. I reckon I can live with that as long as I don’t find him standing in the living room one of these days.” Heath made to laugh but Victoria could recognize his nervousness and knew that the fear this man had instilled in her stepson was still there.

“Heath I can’t promise you that but I can promise if it does happen we will handle it differently than we have today. You are who is important not Bentell. I know that now. I should have known that this morning and this evening.” Victoria started to think back to the morning at Heath’s anger and then to this evening when she had seen the angry daggers of ice in his eyes dissolve into unadulterated fear as he learnt he was to go with Bentell to the logging camp. He was like a wild animal trapped and she knew she should have stopped then but she hadn’t. Instead she had been stimulated by his show of fear and goaded him further. She had practically thrown his fear back in his face when she told him it wasn’t meant to be easy and ‘show us some of Tom Barkley’s guts.” She had shaken him and yelled at him. Her actions now came back tormenting her.

“No Heath what I said and did to you this morning, this day I won’t do again. I promise.” She said quietly and freeing her hands from his grip she put her arms around him and squeezed gently and apologetically. She felt him relax, respond and accept the gesture and marveled after all he’d been through his ability to forgive and knew that she would never be so magnanimous.

Part 9

The stockade fencing was still surrounding him but it was now in a state of rotten decay. It was by no means as oppressive or as overpowering as it had been. Heath had taken the first and possibly the biggest step towards dismantling it. Nevertheless he knew another step had to be taken before the stockade fencing could be dismantled and destroyed. That step had already been decided for him earlier this day by his family and having psyched himself for the trip to the logging camp was totally unprepared for his stepmother’s forthright and resolute statement.

“You’re not going with Bentell tomorrow. I’m going to let him go. Dismiss him.” So sickened had been Victoria by the harrowing disclosures when only half way told she had single mindedly determined that Matt Bentell’s employment with the Barkleys had to be terminated.

“No.” Astounded Heath found himself blurting out and objecting to his stepmother’s change of mind and new proposals. For the first time in a long while he stood up from the bed and noticeably in anguish paced around the room stretching his legs before returning and sitting heavily back down at the edge. He turned round and two puzzled and startled faces stared at each other.

“What did you say Heath?” Victoria looked at him perplexed and responded taken aback by Heath’s one word and the way he was now looking at her.

“I said no.” Heath replied firmly again feeling his inside trying to twist. For some reason Heath had not expected his stepmother’s complete turn around regarding the employment of Matt Bentell. Had she said this this morning then he would have had no objections indeed he would have been ecstatic but now it had the opposite affect. He had convinced himself into believing that by fulfilling the family’s orders and escorting Bentell to the logging camp he would finally be free of the hold Carterson had over him.

“No?” Startled by the reply Victoria questioned Heath not being sure she had heard correctly. The expression of disbelief and misunderstanding on the Barkley matriarch’s finely defined features was priceless. She was one who would broach no argument and after the day she had had believed by this decision there could be no argument particularly from Heath. After hearing what she had heard this evening she would not expect Heath to go with Matt Bentell. She had seen a way of repairing the damage she had caused in their relationship earlier and ultimately she would be doing right by her husband’s son and the reply she heard was beyond her comprehension.

Part of Heath was gratefully saying ‘thank you, thank you’ whilst another part was saying ‘go with Bentell, go with Bentell’. There were warring factions at work inside his head as an inner voice forcefully told him he had to go with Bentell, he needed to go with Bentell if this evening’s revelations were not to be wasted. His stepmother’s change of intentions with regard to the employment of Matt Bentell had upset Heath’s fragile state of mind and he was clearly in turmoil with himself as he stood up again and furiously spun round to face her, clenching his fists at his sides and listening to the inner voice with a drawl angrily retorted. “You’re doing it again. You’re telling me what you’re going to do: what you want to happen. You said we’d discuss it and then we’d decide not you, but us.”

Reminiscences of Heath’s desperation earlier in the day came back to play in Victoria’s mind as she saw him now and being aware of the anxiety not only in his voice she asked perplexed. “But I thought this is what you wanted?”

Having angrily spewed forth Heath was floundering as he managed a stammering apology to his stepmother. “I’m sorry. Oh Mother, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to speak like that?” Anguished Heath felt new tears welling ready to overwhelm him as he tried to calm himself hoping that it would not be too difficult to explain to his stepmother his change of heart and was sorry he had become cross with her. It had not been his intension but he was having trouble controlling his converging and surging emotions. “Yes. Well it was what I wanted but that was earlier. That was before.” He managed to say.

Again Heath sat down next to her and took some relaxing breaths. Victoria could still see the agitation in him and stretched out her hand to brush across his cheek feeling a growth of stubble before stroking his shoulder. “Tell me what it is you want Heath.” She spoke to him soothingly.

“It’s not what you think I want? No not what I want.” He shook his head and thought for a moment and then spoke again his hands firmly clutching his knees. “I think you should have said what you thought I need. I don’t think you’d like what I want but you might like what I need.” And Victoria noticed the glimmer of a twinkle in his eyes through his anxiety as he started to explain. “I knew what I wanted this morning when I saw Bentell, I wanted to kill him, I wanted to tear him apart..... But I don’t think it is what I needed. Do you Mother? Yes this morning I wanted to kill Matt Bentell. But I don’t think I needed to. I don’t think killing him would have been the answer. I certainly didn’t need to have a murder charge hanging over me. I would like none of this to have ever happened, Carterson, the whole lot, but it did and now I need to be able to handle it. In its entirety. Can you understand what I’m saying?” Heath hoped his stepmother could comprehend what he was trying to say.

“I’m sorry Heath for trying to decide for you. I suppose it’s what mother’s do. They always think they know what is best for their children but today I didn’t know.” With a small shake of her head and not feeling quite so flummoxed Victoria removed her hand from his shoulder and gave Heath an encouraging smile. “Perhaps I’m starting to understand what you mean. What is it you need Heath?” She coaxed.

Heath looked at Victoria and began to explain. “Well I reckon you knew what was best for me. It’s just that you went about it in the wrong way and I guess I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to be doing what you were telling.” Heath finished with a quirky smile realizing that his stepmother was still not too sure what he needed and he continued trying to clarify his words.

“I haven’t had much time to think since this morning and my thoughts haven’t been too straight or logical for obvious reasons but now with opening up to you and all, as I have, I’m beginning to see through the wood to the trees. I feel better for it. Not right but better. I might be on the right road now to being able to handle Carterson, at least coming to terms with it so that the whole of my mind becomes my own.

“Obviously I couldn’t kill Bentell so you were right to stop me there. I’m not sure whether killing Bentell would have been the answer anyway. I believe you may have been right on this idea about my going with Bentell to the logging camp. It might be a good idea.” He stopped speaking for a moment to take a deep breath to compose himself further before he started again to forcibly explain his change of mind.

“I made him into Carterson. He was the commander. He was in charge. He was responsible. There were too many. I could hate them all but I couldn’t kill them all so I chose him. I made him into the monster that Carterson was. I reckon I need to go with him to face that monster. To show the monster that it doesn’t have the power or the control over me any more. You want me to get rid of the hate well I don’t know whether I hate the man or whether I really did but I do know that I hated Carterson. What it did to me. What it did to my friends. What it did to the prisoners. Carterson doesn’t exist now only in my mind and there ain’t much point in hating something that doesn’t exist. So by going with Bentell I may be able to separate them. I don’t know whether I’m making much sense?” He looked at his audience and seeing a smile of encouragement went on. “But if I don’t go and face up to the monster I might lose the only chance I’ll have of laying the monster to rest and having the whole of my mind intact and free of Carterson.” Victoria could understand his reasoning and now knew what Heath meant by needing to as opposed to wanting to.

“What about Bentell?” Victoria asked realizing that during the whole of his revelations he had said very little about Bentell.

“As for Bentell himself, I don’t know.” Heath shrugged his shoulders and while talking questioned what he knew about the prison camp ex commander. Victoria felt privy to his thoughts. “I’m not promising that I’ll be able to like the man, heck, I’m not even sure if I can be civil to him, to manage my anger towards him but I may be able to understand him. As Jarrod said the courts decided Bentell didn’t have any charges to answer and they found him innocent. I don’t know whether he was innocent or guilty. My view of him is obviously and understandably biased and colored. I was on the inside living through it. He was on the outside living through it. Thinking about it now perhaps he was as much a victim of the civil war as I was? I don’t know. I may have a chance to find out. I can’t say I like the idea of going with him tomorrow up to the logging camp but I believe I need to. As you said earlier this evening it isn’t meant to be easy. I realize that. This will be one of the most difficult things I have ever done..... I don’t want to go with Bentell but I need to.” So saying Heath finished talking about Bentell and the trip to the logging camp and waited expectantly to hear his stepmother’s response and opinion.

“I’m not sure anymore Heath. Do you think it is right for you to go? Will you be alright?” Now having knowledge of the prison camp Victoria was concerned when she hadn’t been earlier and wanted to know that what Heath was going to do would be right for him. She sat quietly and considered carefully what he had said. Somehow what he was saying seemed to make sense and yet she now felt very uneasy about him going along with Bentell. Victoria studied his expression knowing there were no answers written in stone and knew that unlike earlier she would do whatever Heath felt was right.

He considered her question before answering. “I don’t know. I just feel it inside,” he patted his chest. “That that is what needs to happen and what I have to do.” Heath quietly stated and as a nervous expectant child waited.

The tall cased clock in the foyer started its midnight chime and Heath nervously counted them waiting for his stepmother’s deliberation and response.

Victoria could feel the tension in the room both his and hers emanating from the decision Heath expected her to make so she said. “I want this to be our decision Heath.” Thinking that she had kept him waiting long enough Victoria asked with an encouraging smile. “Do you think we’ve discussed it enough Heath?” He knew she was letting him decide it was now his game and he could play it anyway he liked and she would go along with whatever Heath thought he needed. The matter had not really been discussed and both of them knew it. Heath understood perfectly how to answer the question and in a soft voice replied. “Yes. I reckon.” Any tension in the room was immediately dispersed when he gave his stepmother a delicious smile which more than matched hers and said everything. For once this day mother and son were of one accord.

“Well Heath if that is what you think you need then that is what will happen. You will go with Bentell tomorrow to the logging camp.” Victoria confirmed the final decision and leaned forward to embrace her stepson knowing that he no longer held the horrors of this day against her.

Breaking her embrace she asked him. “Just one more thing Heath do you want your brothers and sister to know what you have told me tonight? I think they should know. That’s why I’m asking you.”

Heath didn’t need to think he knew what he wanted and nodded his head. Even though it was now his decision to go with Bentell he needed their understanding too. “Yes, I’d like you to tell them. I don’t think I’m strong enough at the moment I seem to have a sore throat coming on.” Victoria momentarily looked worried and then playfully slapped him across his shoulder when she saw the wicked twinkle in his eyes. Heath continued. “Yes please. I reckon they have a right to know but wait ’til I’ve left for the logging camp. You can put them in the picture if you like and I can fill in the details later when I get back if they want to know more. You do as you think fit. I know you will, but be careful how you tell Audra I don’t want her being upset.” Victoria didn’t relish telling any of her own children but felt it was something they needed to know about their half brother and Heath was more than willing that they should know. She always had respect for Heath but tonight it had gone way up in her estimation.

“You weren’t concerned about me getting upset?” Victoria mimicked outrage and then laughed. She was upset by what she had heard but then she had asked for it. She said she was strong enough to take it and she didn’t want Heath to know how she had been affected by his revelations this evening so she joked with him. Her stepson being ever perceptive knew that she was upset by what he had told but knew that when she shared the knowledge with the rest of the family then she would feel easier about it and knew that together as a family they would deal with it.

Heath closed his eyes and thought. “When I return we will all be able to live with it together because isn’t this what families do? They share and help each other?” This day had not been a typical one in the Barkley household. Heath’s thoughts momentarily took him back to the horrors of the day when he had wanted his family to stand by him and they had not and knew now that he would have their support and Victoria looked at his smile as he opened his eyes and wondered. A smile that said “This morning I stood alone but not now, and never again.” His trust was returning had indeed returned at least for his stepmother.

Victoria broke into his thoughts. “Now have you had anything to eat? Because I have the suspicion you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast and it's late now. It’s well past your normal bed time. I imagine our guests,” Heath couldn’t help but notice Victoria frown at the word. “Jarrod, Nick and Audra have all retired.”

“I’m not hungry mother I don’t think I can eat yet.” He replied truthfully not knowing whether he could face food. His inside was still feeling delicate.

“I’ll bring you up a glass of milk and some sandwiches at least you can try not going to bed on an empty stomach.” Victoria stressed as she struggled to light the bedside lamp.

“I had hoped for something a might stronger than milk.” Heath emphasized disappointment and gave a pretence of a hurt look.

“I’ll bring a shot of brandy for you, no a double shot and you take it before going to bed. It will help you to sleep. Will that do Heath? In fact I’ll have one too. I think I need it.” She expected a polite yes please and was not prepared for the reply he gave although with a day like this she should have known the surprises were not necessarily over.

“I won’t be going to bed not here anyway. I’ll have the milk and brandy downstairs. Thank you.” Taken by surprise Victoria nearly knocked the lamp over as she turned round on him. “What do you mean you’re not going to bed here?”

“I can’t take the chance. I’ll take my bedroll down to the barn and sleep there.” Heath said not wanting to argue.

“Oh. Heath this is ridiculous you can’t sleep in the barn.” Victoria scolded him.

“Mother you are doing it again. Telling me what I can and cannot do.” Heath winked at her chuckling to himself at the power this small woman had but knew that she was not going to win this argument.

“But this is your room your bed. It’s cold in the barn.” The mother in her was showing concern.

“Now mother I’ll be all right in the barn. Believe me I’m more used to sleeping on the hard ground than I am in this comfortable bed. I’ll feel safer out there than in the house. I don’t know whether I can control the nightmares tonight. I can’t depend on the nightmares not happening and if they do then I prefer to have them out in the barn and not here where Bentell can witness them.” In his lifetime he had had humiliation enough he did not need any more. The thought of Bentell hearing his screams and cries was as terrifying to Heath as the idea of going with him to the logging camp had been earlier this evening. He still was not happy with the idea of accompanying Bentell but he now believed it would be the right thing to do and it was the decision he had made. No one was forcing him to go with Bentell. And no one was forcing him to sleep in the barn.

Three quarters of an hour later Victoria watched from the kitchen door as a lone figure, lantern in hand and bed roll under his arm made his way across the moonlit stable yard to the barn. Once he had disappeared inside Victoria turned and looked at the partially eaten sandwiches, an empty tumbler which had contained milk and two empty brandy glasses one large one small and shaking her head thought it was better than nothing. She cleared the table and made her way up the back stairs knowing that this was the beginning of what was going to be a short but long and sleepless night for her.

Part 10

Audra was the only Barkley who slept peacefully that night. She was the only one oblivious to the true identity of their guest and the upset his appearance in their house had caused.

Restlessly the Barkley matriarch would find sleep for a short while before seeing the young teen scantily dressed in a well worn soldier’s uniform, dirty and shabby which had a long time since been faded by the sun so she could not tell whether it was union or confederate. Its fit was poor, hanging loosely from the boy’s wasted frame. She watched him as restricted by leg irons he struggled in the sodden earth to dig trenches and man handle corpses. She watched helplessly wanting to help yet being unable. Aware of her watching him the boy would stop and slowly turn to look at her. The grimy and gaunt face beneath a shock of unruly hair highlighted his listless eyes which water blue, pale and pitiful pleaded for her help and would startle her awake only for her to find Heath standing before her in the study as he had done during the past day. His pain filled eyes crying out for help. The pain of rejection she had caused being reflected back so it cut deep and sharp. She hurt as he had been hurt and she would muffle her own cry as he started to smile. The beautiful smile he had given her this night. The smile she knew meant he had forgiven her. Indeed she knew he had forgiven her when he started to relate his Carterson experiences. But the confirmation of forgiveness came with the gracious smile.

She would then reflect on what Heath had said. “Well I reckon you knew what was best for me. It’s just that you went about it in the wrong way.” She did not know any more than him whether going with Bentell was best she only hoped like him it would work. But she knew she had gone ‘about it in the wrong way’. He had once said he would do anything for her all she needed to do was ask. She remembered it clearly now when he told her he would wear his father’s boots if that was what she wanted. She had not asked then nor had she tried to force him and yet by the end of the day he was wearing the boots. That day she had handled it differently but today if she had stayed calm and ridden the storm she knew deep inside he would have gone with Bentell to please her. To please her he would do anything, he would have gone and she knew it.

Out of the mess which this day had brought came good. She now understood her stepson as never before. He had opened himself up to her and divulged his innermost self. She understood the power, the strength and the driving force he had which enabled him to survive when so many had perished and brought him to the family as a belated gift from her late husband his father. She was thankful for the precious gift.

With happier thoughts sleep would overcome her and the cycle of slumber, dreams and thoughts would begin again until the cockerel pronounced the dawn and tired she rose to prepare for a new day.

A day in which she knew she would have to entertain her guests at breakfast. She gave a wry smile as the knowledge she now held meant she was not looking forward to the meal. She recalled Heath’s questions and found herself wanting to ask Bentell the same. “How do you carry that around inside yourself? How do you come to terms with that? How do you live with yourself?” She knew in the short term she would never know because she had given her word to Heath not to broach the subject of Carterson with her house guest. She hoped Heath would bring with him the answers when he returned from the logging camp. Worrying about the morning and what it would bring had added to her insomnia. For her stepson’s sake she was going to have to play the model host, keep a civil tongue in her head and moderate her conversations to niceties over the breakfast table. She flounced her shoulders, lifted her chin and with fortitude made her way down to the kitchen to help Silas prepare the first meal of the day.

Shortly after his mother had excused herself from the study Jarrod had gone with Nick to the living room to help Audra entertain their guests. While Audra discussed womanly matters with Mrs. Bentell the three men talked about the timber industry and how the flume could substantially increase the profit margin for the Barkley lumber enterprises among other matters. Victoria and Heath were conspicuous by their absence and for obvious reasons the topic of Carterson was never mentioned for which Matt Bentell was relieved. The evening drew on and when it became clear that their hostess was not going to make an appearance Mr. and Mrs. Bentell made their excuses of a long drive the next day and retired to their bedchamber.

Audra looked to her brothers wondering what had become of her mother and half brother only to be told by Jarrod she would like him and Nick have to wait until the morning to find out then proffered his arm to his sister to escort her up the stairs saying good night to Nick.

It was not until his head touched the pillow that Jarrod started to think about where his mother and brother might be for he was sure they were together. He had not noticed a light coming from beneath Heath’s bedroom door and wrongly assumed they were not there. Wherever they where Jarrod was sure that the trip to the logging camp for Heath would be the topic of conversation which influenced the slumber and dreams which overtook him.

He was in a courtroom and the accused Matt Bentell was standing in the dock pleading his innocence. On the seat in the witness stand was a photograph. Moving closer to the photograph the lawyer could see the piece of evidence for the prosecution more clearly. The evidence depicted a gaunt and emaciated creature, almost human in appearance sitting and looking at him. It was the eyes, which drew him closer, the eyes that mesmerized him. Eyes that this evening had turned from hate to sheer terror when they learned they were going with the accused to the logging camp. Jarrod looked into the eyes and started turning the pages to read the documents relating to the trial of the commander of Carterson. From each page his brother the creature in the photograph sat and looked at him accusingly with terror stricken eyes while Bentell professed his innocence. Jarrod found himself sitting up in bed shouting “No!” He knew the evidence he had read it many years before but this was the first time it had come back to haunt him and he knew why.

His brother was a statistic from the evidence and only now did he understand what he had done to Heath. He sat in bed and deliberated the torment his good intentions had caused this day to a brother he had grown to love. It had seemed such a good idea for Heath to go along with Bentell to the logging camp after all had he Jarrod not said it was difficult to hate somebody when you get to know them. What he had not put into the equation was that Heath did know Bentell, knew him better than any of them and that was why he hated him. Jarrod closed his eyes and saw his brother today in the study, his eyes turning from hate to fear to desperation and then desperately trying to find a way out, practically pleading with his family not to send him with Bentell .

Lying back down in his bed he started to reflect on what his young brother had said that very morning about Bentell and Wirtz being two of a kind. Having at one time read both, Jarrod considered the similarities in the cases of Wirtz from Andersonville and Bentell from Carterson. Both cases were almost identical in the evidence for the defense and the prosecution and yet Wirtz had been found guilty for his war crimes and subsequently executed were as Bentell had been found innocent and released. He knew there were many extenuating factors which bore influence over the true facts which accounted for the different verdicts. It was a country in turmoil Wirtz might have been hanged purely as a political statement were as Bentell might have been released because the nation needed to forget and heal. He had stated earlier this day that Bentell was innocent but he was no longer certain. He knew Heath thought Bentell was guilty and now acknowledged that as he himself had a right to have doubts so his younger brother had a right to his own opinion.

They had prevented Heath from killing Bentell and should not that have been enough he questioned? Had not Heath lived with his hate all the years after the war without it unduly affecting him? Was there really any reason to force Heath to go with Bentell he now thought? As is quite often the case in the night one can see things far clearer and so it was with Jarrod. In the dark and cold reality of the night he could see the truth of what he expected of his brother. His brother had been a witness of the countless atrocities, cruelties and deaths inside the prison camp. Even if Bentell was innocent how could he expect Heath to consider the prison commander anything other than he knew the man to be. Jarrod now realized he had made a horrendous mistake.

For the rest of the night in his bed he tossed and turned until the cockerel announced the dawn and he rose washed, shaved, dressed and welcomed this new day which gave him the opportunity to set to rights his intentions for his brother’s sake and made his way downstairs to talk with his mother.

“Morning Mother,” He walked into the kitchen, “I need to talk with you about this trip for Heath to the logging camp.” Getting straight to the heart of the matter he addressed his mother as he laid a kiss on her cheek.

Victoria just replied “Good morning.” But said no more and waited to hear what her eldest had to say.

“I think we, I mean I, may have got it wrong yesterday about Heath going with Bentell to the logging camp.” Jarrod didn’t need to talk any further for Victoria understood what he was trying to say and slightly raised a hand to forestall his words.

“I would have as a guess that you have had as wretched a night as I have Jarrod.” He looked at her and for the first time noticed the tired worn face and weary eyes and understanding nodded his head.

“It’s alright Jarrod. Yes I think we made a mistake yesterday, a very big one indeed but I spent the evening talking with Heath and he wants to go with Bentell.” Victoria tried to allay Jarrod's concerns. “No that’s not quite right. Heath has decided to go with Bentell.” The lawyer remembering his brother from the previous day looked surprised and then quizzically at his mother wondering how certain she was. “Yes Jarrod he said he needs to go. He needs to face his past. And this time I’m going to stand by his decision and he would be grateful if you will too. We will support Heath in this.” This subject was not open for discussion and Jarrod realized it but he could also tell his mother had more to say. “Well mother. What is it? What aren’t you telling me?”

“I have plenty to tell you but not now, not until Heath and the Bentells have left.” Victoria knew they needed to keep a modicum of decorum and normality about the place for the sake of Heath and the Barkley’s guests. Victoria had been unable to hide the frown that furrowed her brow when she mentioned the Bentells and Jarrod had noticed it. “You have concerns about Bentell I can tell?”

Before she had a chance to reply Victoria’s second born came storming into the kitchen. “Morning Mother, Jarrod. Seen Heath?” His eyes quickly scoured the room and neither seeing who he was looking for nor waiting for a response Nick made his way to the outside by means of the kitchen door and taking long purposeful strides marched across the yard towards the barn.

Once Nick had been left alone the previous evening he had poured himself another whiskey and sat waiting and hoping that his new brother would appear. Since telling Heath that he had to go with Bentell Nick had had a wretched time and spent the rest of the evening inwardly berating himself.

That morning after Heath had left to go to the horse auction Nick had been ready to dismiss Matt Bentell but he let himself be talked round by Jarrod. What Jarrod said seemed to make sense but then whatever Jarrod said always seemed to make sense Nick acknowledged. Somehow Nick found himself suggesting Heath should go with Bentell and it was not until the evening when he confronted Heath in the study and told him, “You have to go,” that he realized what he had done. He saw the eyes that his mother and Jarrod had seen, the look of anger turning to fear but when Heath turned and pleaded with him and he denied his brother he saw the hurt and pain his words had caused. He knew then he had made a terrible mistake. He had let down his brother, his soul mate and the best friend a man could ever have; a brother strong and true, who would stand by him through thick and thin come what may.

He finished his drink and having decided Heath was not going to make an appearance he took himself to bed momentarily stopping by Heath’s door considering whether to knock. He thought he heard his mother’s voice and distressed sounds from within and so deciding against knocking took himself to bed with no hope of finding sleep. The distressed sounds coming from his brother’s room had sealed his fate as regards any form of rest that night.

He lay awake thinking about Heath and what his new brother had come to mean to him and the family as a whole and now wondered at the way they had treated Heath that day. He thought of Jarrod’s words about not being able to hate a person once you get to know him and realized what an idiotic remark it was. He did not like the Mortons and the more he knew them the more he disliked them so how was Heath ever going to like Bentell. It was as bizarre as expecting the Almighty to dine with Beelzebub and become bosom friends.

Nick may not have slept much but he had made a decision and he knew what needed to be done and was on track when he burst into the barn this new day.

His lack of sleep and stressed mind only strengthened his vocal chords as he yelled. “Heath where are you. I need to talk with you.”

Before his rude awakening Heath had been sleeping comfortably and uncharacteristically had slept through the cockerel’s morning call. The dreams had come as he had feared but had not terrorized him. He was at last able to accept and understand them. He knew he would have difficulty in explaining it because in a strange way he now found them wholesome and meaningful and yet almost surreal in their imagery.

Before sleeping he had settled down in his bedroll on the soft straw in one of the stalls and in this happy environment lulled by the smell of horses and the sound of their eating he had thought over his day. The day he thought the world beneath his feet was crumbling away. The day he had found the commander of Carterson prison Matt Bentell standing in the living room. The day he had remembered what happened at Carterson. The day he had been hurt deeply by his new family. The day he had been grievously let down by his brother and soul mate. The day he had made revelations about his experiences as a prisoner of war. The day he formed a stronger relationship and new understanding with his stepmother. This had been a tiring but momentous day one he would not forget in a hurry. But it was in the past and he now looked forward with trepidation and fortitude to the future.

He was not looking forward to going with Matt Bentell to the logging camp but he would go because somewhere deep inside himself he knew it was the right thing to do and the only way to move forward. He did not know how he would handle himself. He did not know whether he could control his anger towards Matt Bentell. He only knew that he was being given an opportunity and he needed to grasp it and make the most out of it. He was a strong believer in things happening for a reason and as far as Heath was concerned Matt Bentell had not just arrived to discuss the building of a flume.

The night before he had been reconciled with his stepmother but the rift created with his two brothers still needed to be bridged. He had been sorely hurt by their actions. In many ways he could understand Jarrod being governed by his judicial mind but he could not understand Nick not supporting and standing by him. Heath knew he would have never under the same circumstances deserted Nick. For that reason he was not surprised to be awakened by his brother’s loud voice calling for him this morning. Knowing his brother he rightly assumed Nick’s conscience had hit him.

Tired, irritable and disheveled Heath stumbled out of the stall and disdainfully spoke to Nick. “Wake up the whole of Stockton, why don’t ya? I don’t know why we bother keeping a cockerel we might as well have it for dinner one of these days.”

Nick chuckled for Heath had spoken to him and he was glad he had found his missing brother. Nick was going to retort, “What’s gotten into your craw?” But thinking better of it said instead without thought. “You look like something the cat’s dragged in.”

“Hum!” Heath grunted as Nick moved closer to him noticing the wisps of straw sticking out of his brother’s hair and the obviously used bed roll laid out on the straw in the stall retorted. “You spend the night out here?”

“Yep!” Heath grunted again. He wasn’t prepared to make anything easy for Nick because Heath was still hurting deeply and it was going to take a lot more than friendly chit chat to make him forget what his brother had done the previous day. Heath doubted whether their relationship would ever get back on par. His trust for Nick had been broken.

Being so pleased Heath had responded to him Nick had forgotten the reason he had rushed over to the barn. “Why did ya sleep out here?” He asked while plucking from his brother the protruding wisps of straw.

Slapping Nick’s hands away he retorted scathingly. “Why do you think Nick?” He turned round to roll up his bed, “Look Nick, I ain’t got time to stand jawing with ya. If ya ain’t got anything meaningful to say give me some space. I have somewhere to go today or had ya forgotten? ” The last part he spat out with venom but Nick either didn’t notice or decided to ignore it.

“Bentell!” Nick suddenly remembered why he needed to find his younger brother.

“Look Heath that’s it. That’s what I wanted to say. About yesterday.” He was beginning to get contrite.

“Well Nick spit it out ’cause I’ve gotta get cleaned up yet and the days a wastin’.” Heath snarled.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean what happened. I thought it was a good idea. Well I’m not sure what I thought. When you left to go to the auction I was ready to fire Bentell but then Jarrod started on about how difficult it was for someone to hate another when they get to know them and I thought it seemed a good idea for you to go with Bentell and sort out this hate thing. I guess I really didn’t give it much thought.” “No you never do.” Heath thought when Nick tried to explain himself and make an apology. Nick wasn’t too sure whether Heath was going to accept it or had even listened to him. Of course Heath had heard him but was not giving Nick the satisfaction of being forgiven easily.

“So it was your idea was it? That’s why you were so determined I should go with Bentell. Are you happy now Nick?” Heath finished rolling his bed roll and pushing by Nick walked over to the tack room. Nick followed at his heals blurting out. “Look Heath I’m sorry, I really am. I realized after I told you you had to go that I’d made a mistake and I’ve spent the whole night cussing myself about it. It’s not too late Heath you don’t have to go I’ll sort it out with Jarrod and Mother. I’ll go in your place, we’ll dismiss him. I’m not sure whether I want him working for us knowing who he is. We normally have a vote on these matters and Audra wasn’t involved.” Nick wasn’t sure whether he was getting through to his brother.

Heath threw his bedroll over the seat of his saddle and sharply swinging round stepped abruptly towards his brother thrusting his face in close and menacingly fumed. “I’m going with Bentell today. But don’t flatter yourself big brother I told ya once before no man sends me anywhere. Not you, not Jarrod, not Mother, not any man. I’m going because it’s my choice, my decision. Understand?” Having no alternative but to look into his brother’s raging blue eyes Nick found himself involuntarily moving backwards with the force of the glare. Gone was the pain and terror from the previous evening. These were eyes of strength and self assurance. The eyes of a brother who had been lost and now had found himself. They were telling Nick that they did not need the likes of him. Now Nick was feeling the pain and looked pleadingly at Heath. When he knew Nick was feeling pain Heath turned and started towards the door unable to stop a slight smile cracking his lips. He had not meant to come over so angrily nor did he enjoy hurting his brother but he had to admit this day it gave him satisfaction.

“Aw, hell Heath, I’m.....” Nick began but was cut off as his younger brother turned round as he began to speak and saw the smile Heath was giving him . “I talked it over with mother last night Nick. I’m going with Bentell and ya don’t need to be worrying about me. It’s something I need to be doing. Now when I’m away Mother is gonna fill ya in on some facts about me. I’d tell ya now myself but I ain’t got time and besides I want all of ya to know. I want you to promise me something Nick. To kinda make up for yesterday?” Heath raised an eye brow and gave a look he knew his brother could not refuse while the right corner of his mouth turned up.

“Sure Heath anything you want. Promise.” Nick gave his word anything to make up for the previous day.

Heath had a vision of his volatile brother ripping Bentell to pieces when he heard what his mother had to say and he needed to ensure it did not happen. “Some of the things you’re gonna hear you ain’t gonna like. I don’t want you going off half cocked and killing someone or something equally stupid. Understand?” Heath inwardly remembered trying to kill Bentell himself the previous day as he saw the unspoken question in his brother’s hazel eyes and continued. “When I get back I’ll tell you Nick anything you wanna know and anything ya don’t understand. I’ll be alright while I’m away. Okay? Promise?”

Nick nodded his head and walked with Heath towards the barn door. Suddenly Heath stopped and turned to Nick. “Thank you Nick.” He said quietly and gave a smile which told Nick he had been forgiven. Nick could not help himself from grabbing Heath by the back of the neck and giving him a brotherly shake.

“Come on boy you’ve gotta get cleaned up and what were ya doing sleepin’ in the barn anyway?” Heath just smiled and shook his head as he walked with his brother to the house knowing that their relationship had weathered the storm.

As Nick had marched over to the barn in search of Heath Victoria had led Jarrod to the study where they could talk in privacy.

Closing the door behind her Victoria began. “Last night Heath told me about his prison camp experiences. Jarrod they were very disturbing and frankly very upsetting. No, just one second,” Victoria stated to stop Jarrod from interrupting. “I’m going to tell you, all of you when Heath and the Bentells have left for the logging camp so I don’t want to go into details now. It’s just that I know that Matt Bentell was found innocent at the trial and having heard Heath out I don’t understand it.” She looked to Jarrod for an explanation.

“I can imagine what Heath has told you Mother and there will be no doubt of the truth of what he has said. But there were extenuating circumstances which were pertinent to the trial and Heath’s situation while a prisoner. I read the trial reports myself and the accounts from the prisoners were very harrowing.” Jarrod’s reasoning and logic had deduced his mother was now having the same problems he had had earlier in accepting the innocence of the logging foreman. “As you have told me Heath’s intention is to go with Bentell so I think Mother what we should do is wait on Heath’s return as I’m sure you were going to do and go with his thoughts on the matter when he gets back. From what you have said Heath now seems determined to go?”

Victoria nodded her head and replied, “Yes he’s very determined he needs to go. I’m sorry Jarrod I’m just not sure anymore about Bentell. I have to face Bentell at breakfast and I’m not looking forward to it. I think you are right, that it’s best waiting until Heath returns and taking it from there I gave my word to Heath not to mention Carterson or anything of that matter with Bentell.” Jarrod gave a small understanding smile and opened the study door to lead his mother to the dining room ready for breakfast.

“If you get the chance please try and have a quick word with Heath yourself before he leaves I think he would appreciate that.” Knowing the hurt that had been caused by Heath’s brothers the previous day the Barkley matriarch told her eldest as she was escorted to the dining room.

Hearing his brothers in the foyer Jarrod excused himself from his mother’s company and exited the dining room, by-passing Nick he called out to Heath who had started up the stairs. “Heath, I want a word.”

Heath slowed his bounding to a walk but Jarrod was still forced to catch up to him to ascend the stairs side by side. They had reached Heath’s bedroom door before Jarrod began, “Heath about yesterday, about Bentell, I think it was a mistake, I.....”

Before he could say more Heath rounded on him his pale blue eyes boring into him forcing the lawyer hard back against the banister rail. Heath's voice as menacing as it had been with Nick earlier tore into Jarrod. “Oh no. There was no mistake Jarrod you did exactly as I would have expected you to do. Ever the lawyer. You put the law, your profession, a stranger before me, your own brother.”

As abruptly as he had rounded on his eldest brother Heath turned and went into his bedroom closing the door behind him leaving Jarrod alone and stunned in the hallway. For a few seconds the lawyer stood contemplating what had happened, what his brother had said and more importantly what he himself had not said. Hesitantly he knocked on the door and when it opened he was facing his young brother’s best poker playing mask. “Heath, I am sorry. I was wrong. I should have been satisfied at stopping you from killing Bentell but I wasn’t. I had to go that bit further and get you to like the fellow. I suppose I was acting more like a lawyer than a brother. Can you forgive me?”

Not changing his expression Heath slowly nodded his head then effectively closed the door in Jarrod’s face. The lawyer was left to descend the stairs believing he had been forgiven but understanding irreparable damage to his relationship with his new brother had been caused.

A short while later clean and presentable Heath came rushing out of his bedroom and collided with his sister. “Sorry Sis.” He said as he took hold of Audra’s arms to steady her. “Oh Heath where were you last night I missed you?”

“I’m pleased to hear that.” He gave Audra an endearing smile. “I was busy I had some talking to do with Mother.” Seeing a slight change in his expression Audra looked curiously at him and so he continued, “I’m going up to the logging camp today for a while with the logging foreman. While I’m away mother is gonna tell you all some things about me, about my past. Some of it’s gonna be pretty upsetting and if you’d rather not hear it I’ll understand. But I’d like for you to listen it’s important to me and I want you to truly know me.”

“If that’s what you want big brother then I’ll listen.” Audra replied with a slight smile already anxiously wondering what she was going to hear. Heath just gratefully said, “Thanks Sis,” and put his arm out to escort her downstairs to breakfast where although not late they were the last to make an appearance. The morning’s greetings having been made Heath helped Audra into her place at the table before seating himself.

Epilogue

In the East the sun had climbed above the mountains casting long dark shadows as its profusion of radiantly painted colors defused into an icy blue in the morning sky promising a bright but cool day in the big valley.

Farewells having been given Mrs. Victoria Barkley stood on the path before the large front door to the Barkley mansion watching between the open gates as the buggy carrying the Bentells and a horse carrying her stepson disappeared from sight as they made their way to the logging camp on the edge of the Sierra Nevada mountain range.

Thinking back over the last couple of hours she reflected that the breakfast time had been better than she had hoped. Audra had amiably chatted away in her usual fashion about cities she had visited and the shops she had frequented in the various cities thereby keeping Mrs. Bentell entertained.

Although most of the time Nick’s hazel eyes kept glowering at Matt Bentell she noted he had not been rude in any way to their guest and had kept abreast of the conversation. She could tell by his demeanor and the glances he kept throwing Heath’s way that her two sons had reconciled their differences and she was pleased.

She noted how Jarrod the very model of diplomacy had kept the conversation flowing without her having to say too much for which she was grateful. Any time he thought the discussion was becoming too risky or faltering he would skillfully steer or recharge it.

She had been pleased Heath had come to share the breakfast meal with his family and guests and noted how he had sat and listened to the conversation and replied if at any time a remark was directed towards him. To her it was obvious he was nervous but he had held himself together not allowing the house guest to know his feelings. Although he did not eat too much he did not chase his food around his plate and nor did he look down or away if Bentell addressed him. Not specifically being rude his replies to Bentell were curt and unfriendly and had Jarrod raising a few knowing eyebrows. By his manner Victoria could tell her stepson was not going to be intimidated by the logging foreman for which she was thankful. She felt assured Heath would meet his Carterson demons head on.

When it came time to depart to the logging camp everyone had moved outside the house to say their farewells. She had been glad to see Jarrod shaking hands with a smiling Heath and was pleased her first born had made the effort as she had asked. Had she been closer she would have heard Heath telling Jarrod he would talk with him when he returned and she missed the look on her eldest son’s face when he knew his young brother had unreservedly accepted his apology.

Heath then had made his way towards his mother and she took his rugged face between her dainty hands and drew it down towards her and kissing him had said, “You don’t have to go you know?”

With a small crooked smile and eyes expressing his love and gratitude he had quietly spoken to her, “Yes I know, but I need to.” He turned then and mounting his horse rode off in front of the Bentell’s buggy towards the morning sun.

THE END

Bibliography

Warning:- The following do contain disturbing reading and photos.

www.Google.com search for [only way I could find them]

= “Brothers Bound”

= “Cyndi’s list US Civil War”

= “The Story of One Union Soldier”

www.stkusers.com/lindas/lindas.htm

www.48ovvi.org Camp Ford; life in a Texas prison camp

www.stkusers.com/lindas/history.html
www.angelfire.com/ga2/Andersonvilleprison/
www.cr.nps.gov/seac/andecon.htm

www.sunsite.utk.edu/civil-war/warweb.html
www.sinclair.edu/sec/his102/mcknight/bm06.htm