by baddkid
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.
The gentle night
breezes of mid-summer blew softly across the porch of the cabin as the three
men sat talking, smoking, and sharing a bottle of whiskey.
It was a mini
vacation of sorts for the brothers, who finally decided to stop talking about
going up to the cabin for a long weekend, and just do it. Heath had been with
the family for a year now, and for the first time the men were off alone on a
totally non-work related trip.
After a fried fish
dinner, burned by Nick's carelessness, they sat listening to the night birds
and breathing in the faint scent of honeysuckle.
"Boy howdy,
Nick, I don't know when I've ever enjoyed burned fish quite so much." Heath
said.
"Hey, it wasn't
that burned." Nick defended his cooking.
"Only the
outside. I don't ever want to hear you malign my bullfrog stew again."
" 'Malign'?
That's an excellent word, Heath." Jarrod said.
"I have you to
thank for it, big brother. I heard you use it once, and I kinda liked the way
it sounded."
Jarrod chuckled
softly.
"I'm glad to
know I could be of some service."
"Hey, I thought
we weren't going to talk about work." Nick frowned at his brothers.
"I'm not
talking about work. I can be 'of some service' when I'm not working, you
know." Jarrod reminded him. "I would hope that some of my most useful
service would be to my family."
"Now how could
Nick ever forget about work?" Heath wondered aloud. "I hear him in my
sleep sometimes. 'Fix that fence, burn that mesquite, paint that wagon, move
that herd. Boy, don't you ever forget this is a working ranch, and we sweat
here.'"
Heath's exaggerated
imitation of Nick soon had both his brothers roaring with laughter.
"I'm not that
bad." Nick insisted, when he could finally speak.
"Oh, you have
your moments, Nick." Jarrod told him.
"I'm only
trying to run the ranch the right way, the way Father taught me." Nick
said. "Is that so wrong?"
"Nick, you do a
fine job." Jarrod soothed the ruffled feathers. "We're just teasing
you."
"Jarrod,
remember when we used to come here with Father? First you, then me. Sometimes
all three of us. But he always made one trip with just each of us, alone, every
year."
"Yes, I
remember. The times when you and Father were alone always seemed to produce the
wilder stories."
"That's because
I always seemed to do something dumb, that seemed like a good idea at the time,
and Father had to pull me out of the lake, or get me down out of a tree. Boy, I
was a wild child."
"Was? You
haven't changed that much, Nick." Jarrod teased him.
Nick noticed Heath
staring out into the night. A long look passed between him and Jarrod, then
Nick asked softly.
"Does it bother
you when we talk about Father, Heath?"
Heath looked
startled for a moment, then he smiled and said.
"No, not any
more. It used to. Now, the more you talk about him, the more I feel I know
him."
"I wish you
could have known him. I wish he could have known you."
"I do, too,
Jarrod, but some things aren't meant to be."
"Did you ever
wonder about him, when you were a kid?" Nick asked.
Heath smiled at the
remembrance.
"Sometimes,
when I was little. I just knew my pa was a big, strong man, a fine man, who
could take care of anything or anybody. I knew one day he'd come riding in on
his fine horse, and carry me off to the big house he owned, where I'd be taken
care of, and nobody would ever hurt me again." Heath was silent for a
moment, then he continued. "Then I got older, and quit believing in fairy
tales."
"You know,
Heath, I'd like to think it would have happened just that way, if he'd known
about you." Jarrod told him.
"Yeah,"
Nick added. "He would never have let you suffer."
The brothers were
silent for awhile, listening to the crickets, and an occasional frog croak.
Then Jarrod broke the silence once again.
"It amazes me
sometimes, Heath, how much like Father you are, yet you never knew him."
"How so?"
"Well, for one
thing, you look like him. But, it's more than that. It's more of what he was
inside. He could never stand to see an innocent creature, man or beast, suffer
in any way. And he was steadfast in his beliefs, often to the point of
stubbornness."
"Yeah, I
remember sometimes, when he wasn't sure what to do, he'd get real quiet."
Nick joined in. "You knew he was thinking, turning things over in his
mind, and no amount of questioning would get him to talk about it before he was
ready. You do that, Heath, and sometimes it drives me crazy."
"Sometimes?"
"And sometimes
it makes me feel as if part of Father is still with us."
Heath stood up and
walked to the porch railing, then spoke softly.
"You know, Mama
always said that part of what you are, you make yourself, and part of you will
always be where you came from. I was never sure if she meant that who you were
depended on the people you came from, or whether she meant that you always left
part of yourself at home."
"Maybe she
meant both." Jarrod reasoned. "You are definitely a Barkley."
"And Father
left part of himself at home, when he brought you here." Nick said.
Heath stared out
into the darkness a moment longer, then picked up the bottle and filled their
glasses.
"I think a
drink is in order," he said, somewhat unsteadily.
"What shall we
drink to, brother?" Jarrod asked. He was rewarded by a lopsided grin.
"That's easy.
To Father."
As one they lifted
their glasses high.
"To
Father!"