A Critical Matter

by CamRose

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.

Part One

The nighttime sky was clear and the air cool as the full moon rose slowly in the sky. The stars shone clearly through the silvery moonlight that reached down from the heavens, illuminating the landscape with its lush green fields and structures below.

Nothing escaped the intense moonlight, either inside or out, as hidden spaces were exposed – not the small creatures that inhabited the dark places suddenly bereft of shadow, nor the man sitting in the armchair placed directly in the path of the bedroom window.

Heath Barkley had moved the leather armchair away from its accustomed spot next to his bed, closer towards the window, so that he could sit with his booted feet propped up onto the window sill. His head rested back against the chair, cushioned by padding and the worn but comfortable leather cover. Behind him, the bed lay unused and forgotten; Heath hadn’t even bothered to get undressed for he knew that sleep would elude him tonight. Idly, he wondered if the other members of his new family were asleep, and if their dreams were pleasant. He especially wondered about his oldest brother, Jarrod.

Heath shifted slightly in the armchair and settled into a more comfortable position. By his reckoning and the position of the moon in the night sky, he had been sitting there for nearly two hours. He re-crossed his legs at the ankles, and tipping his head slightly to the side, brought the cigarette that dangled loosely in his right hand up to his mouth. Slowly and deliberately, Heath closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, drawing the smoke into his lungs. For a few seconds, he held his breath, savoring the calmness that the simple act imparted to him; then, pursing his lips, he exhaled slowly and watched through half opened eyes as wisps of grey smoke drifted towards the open window, only to dissipate in the cool night air.

Victoria Barkley….Mother, he quickly corrected himself, did not approve of her sons smoking just anywhere in the stately home. Smoking was generally reserved for the parlor or downstairs study, and of course, outside. However, in Heath’s case, he knew that she was inclined to look the other way when he choose to smoke in his room, since he favored cigarettes instead of the strong cigars preferred by her other sons, Jarrod and Nick.

Not that Heath didn’t partake of a cigar every now and then; Nick, and especially Jarrod, often offered him one. On those occasions, he made it a point never to refuse them, all in the interest of reinforcing the brotherly bonds that the sons of Thomas Barkley had worked so hard to build. But the plain truth of the matter was that Heath found genuine pleasure in smoking cigarettes and in rolling his own. He also suspected that his new mother knew that he often smoked when he felt unsettled about something, as he felt tonight.

It was just like her, he mused as he took another draw on his cigarette, to allow her newest son this harmless transgression of the house rules, as a show of silent support and understanding.

A sudden noise caught his attention, bringing him out of his lassitude. He leaned forward quickly in his chair, cigarette temporarily forgotten, and listened intently. He couldn’t tell if the sound had come from inside or outside, but in the quiet of night, especially this night, it had the effect of an alarm bell.

When the sound didn’t repeat itself, he slowly settled back into the armchair, still relaxed but now alert as well. He had been caught unawares on one occasion this week and as a result both he and the family had paid dearly for it. He did not intend to let it happen again.

He felt a sudden sharp pain and stiffness in his neck. Guess my position wasn’t that comfortable after all, Heath thought ruefully. With a practiced move, he hitched his left shoulder up and tilted his head sharply to the left. There was a loud crack! He repeated the move to the right as well, feeling the pain leave his neck as the tight muscles let go. It wouldn’t do for his neck to seize up on him now, not when he might need to move quickly.

Cautiously, Heath tipped his head back as far as he could, and holding the position, gazed up at the grey-white surface above him. It still felt strange to him to see a ceiling overhead instead of stars, much in the same way it felt to odd to own expensive possessions such as the new pair of boots he wore. So many things had changed in his life over the past ten months.

A year ago, he had been Heath Thomson, the only child of Leah Thomson. Despite the lack of a father and wealth, he had been brought up in a loving household. Then his mother had died and his life changed irrevocably.

As she lay dying, his mother had given him her Bible. Heath had accepted the treasured book, unaware of the secret it held. He sat by her deathbed, cradling the book as if it was his most prized possession. As she watched through glazed eyes, he opened the Bible, intending to read her favorite passage to her. To his surprise, an aged newspaper clipping slipped out, bringing to light the secret that his mother had kept from him for twenty four years, or in his case, a lifetime.

Before he could ask her about it, his mother had passed, but he had seen the truth in her fading eyes. In the space of a few seconds, he had gone from being the beloved son of Leah Thomson to the bastard son of Thomas Barkley, Esq. of Stockton.

It was only later on that he realized a potential future presented itself to him, if he had the courage and determination to go after it.

* * * * * * * *

Of course, at the time he hadn’t known about Thomas Barkley’s other family, didn’t know that he had three other brothers, as well as a younger sister who had the same blonde coloring as he. Nor did he know that he would acquire a mother who would protect him and fight for him as if he were her own. And Heath certainly didn’t foresee the man that he would become.

Suddenly, the sound came again, louder this time and from the outside. Heath brought his feet down from the sill with a thud, and leaning forward, peered out through the window intently. He spied a man making his way hastily and unsteadily from the barn to the near side of the corral. The man’s features stood out clearly in the moonlight, features that were becoming as familiar to Heath as his own.

Heath cursed himself for being a fool. He should have known better than to tell Nick about all that had happened in the barn with the Kyles, should have asked him to keep his confidence, for if he had given it serious thought he’d have realized that Nick would share the information with one particular member of the Barkley family. After all, that’s what brothers were for.

Heath ground his cigarette out in the ashtray on the floor and rose swiftly to his feet. He glanced out the window and cursed again, out loud this time. He went back to the bed and pulled his blanket off of it, the one Audra had crocheted for him. Then, after stopping one last time to grab his gun belt off of the clothes rack in his room, Heath set out after his brother, Jarrod.

Part Two

Jarrod stood facing the barn door and stared at the Barkley brand that was burned into its surface. He could see the outline of the mark clearly, as if it had been painted onto the door instead of pressed into the wood. The aim had been unwavering.

Blood pulsed in his ears, and in his head, he heard the question that Nick had asked of him earlier.

“Jarrod, did you know that the Kyles threatened Heath with a branding, using our own brand?”

Nick had stood there in front of him, hands braced on his hips in unconscious imitation of their father. Heath might have favored Thomas Barkley in looks, but Jarrod was reminded, yet again, that his brother Nick had inherited their father’s sense of presence, that quality that made him seem larger than life.

As his younger brother waited for him to answer, Jarrod realized that he hadn’t been truthful to Jake Kyles. It did bother him to be looked down upon while being addressed by another. With Nick towering over him, he felt pinned by the intensity of his brother’s gaze; he didn’t dare move in his chair.

It occurred to him that Heath must have felt this way in the witness box, when he had been questioned by Jarrod during the trial,

Frustrated by his brother’s lack of response, Nick continued on. “And if you want proof, Counselor, all you have to do is go out to the barn and look at the inside door.”

As Jarrod lay in bed a few hours later, he thought about what Nick had told him. He had known that it would hurt Heath if he took the case and defended Korby Kyles against Heath’s testimony, but he had never dreamed that Jake Kyles and his other two sons would come after Heath with the intention of doing him serious harm, not while his brother was contemplating taking the case. And if he had known of the branding threat to Heath, would he still have made the decision to defend Korby Kyles? Suddenly, Jarrod had to go out to the barn, to see the brand mark for himself.

Transfixed, Jarrod reached out to touch the damning mark. As his hand approached the burnt wood, it started to tremble, as if the wood contained enough heat to burn as hot as the branding iron surely had. Once again, he heard Nick’s voice in his mind.

“Jarrod, you’ve told me that you’re sorry for what happened today, but it’s not me or even the family you should be apologizing to – it’s Heath. And just offering a toast and a handshake isn’t going to do it.”

Nick, his ally from childhood, who valued family and honor above all other things, had been straightforward and relentless.

“I told you that you were going to think yourself into a hole, but I was wrong about that. You put Heath into that hole instead, Jarrod, when you tore into him on the witness stand. I may have ‘cut him off at the knees’, as you so succinctly put it, in that affair with the General last year, but you did far worse to him today - you cut him down to size in front of the entire town. That was unworthy of you, Jarrod. An experience like that can mark a man for life, Counselor, almost as bad as a real branding can.....”

Jarrod’s fingers made contact with the wood, and he traced the brand, feeling the smoothness of the wood beneath his touch. Suddenly, a sickening stench rose in his nostrils, causing his stomach to churn. He gasped and doubled over as if he had been punched in the gut, and as the stench grew stronger, his vision faded, thrusting him back in time and into early memory.

Jarrod sat on the corral railing and rubbed his hand slowly along the newly painted wood. It felt smooth to his fingers and he marveled that his Papa had built such a wonderful thing. Papa had finished building and painting the corral a week ago, in preparation for what was about to happen today.

Today was the day that his father was going to teach the new hand how to brand a calf. He had instructed Jarrod to sit on the top rail of the corral and watch, because someday he was going to teach Jarrod how to do it too.

Jarrod watched as his father and Mr. McCall built a fire pit in the ground and then stuck a long piece of metal into it. That was the ranch’s new branding iron and Jarrod was proud of the fact that he had been the one to say it should be a “B”, for Barkley. Papa had agreed and even Mama had been proud, telling him that he was smart to think of it.

Jarrod watched intently as the fire in the pit grew higher and brighter. He could barely sit still from the excitement of it all, so he hooked his feet over the board below the one he sat on to still his movement. The excitement was contagious; he could sense it in his father and the other men with him.

Mr. McCall left the corral and came back a few minutes later, leading a cow towards the corral with its calf trailing behind. He recognized it as the calf that he had watched Papa birth a few weeks ago. Jarrod listened as the calf bellowed and its mother mooed while Mr. McCall roped its hind legs and dragged it into the corral. His heart started to beat a little harder in his chest.

Between Papa and the new hand, they were able to hold the calf down. Then Mr. McCall pulled on a pair of thick leather gloves, picked up the branding iron, red-hot with heat now, and moved towards them.

From across the corral, Jarrod heard his father call out to him. “Jarrod, watch closely now!! Obediently, Jarrod watched, not taking his eyes from the scene.

Suddenly, the calf somehow kicked loose. Without thinking, the new man reached for the calf’s rear leg just as Mr. McCall brought the branding iron around.

The scream that followed was agonizing. A sickening smell filled the air and Jarrod tried to cover his nose to escape it. He watched, frozen in place, as the injured man clutched at his arm, screamed again and fell face forward into the dirt. His father and Mr. McCall rushed to the man’s side to tend to him as he lay there. Jarrod couldn’t take his eyes away from the scene in front of him.

“Jarrod!!” Papa’s voice penetrated the trance he was in. “Jarrod, run up to the house and get Mama as fast as you can. Tell her to bring the medical supplies and salve!” When he didn’t move, his father yelled again. “Jarrod, I said NOW!!!”

Somehow, he was off the fence and running as fast as could towards the house, his mind replaying the scene over and over. He could still see the face of the man as he screamed and the jagged “B” burnt into the skin of the man’s arm….

Jarrod snapped back to the present and found himself lying on the ground beside the barn door. The memory had replayed itself, but this time, the man’s face had been replaced by Heath’s. His stomach twisted again and he felt an immediate urge to heave, as waves of nausea washed over him; he had to get out of the barn and away from the mark on the door, now!! In blind panic, he drew himself up from the ground, pushed the barn door open and stumbled outside in the direction of the corral, leaving the door open behind him.

Just as Jarrod reached the corral, the waves of nausea crested and he fell forward onto his hands and knees, retching over and over as his stomach emptied itself of it contents. When there was nothing left in his stomach, he was assailed by dry heaves which racked his body further. By this time, the fancy silk nightclothes and robe he wore were drenched with sweat, and he started to shiver in the cool night air. He tried to get to his feet but couldn’t; the prolonged bout of vomiting had left him drained of strength and his legs wouldn’t hold him.

Jarrod was about to crawl the few feet to the corral fence to try to pull himself up when he felt a pair of hands slip under his arms. He was lifted effortlessly to his knees, and then up to his feet. The change in position made him feel lightheaded and as he swayed in place, the grip of the hands helping him tightened, steadying him. He was dimly aware of being guided over to a nearby bench, the supporting touch not leaving him until he was seated securely. After a few moments, a blanket was draped around him and he felt the pressure of the hands return, but this time, they rested gently upon his shoulders.

“Stay there, Jarrod,” Heath’s voice softly commanded. “Don’t move.”

Part Three

A few minutes before…..

Heath had moved quickly and quietly through the upstairs hallway. Apparently, the rest of the family was asleep. The lights were off in both his mother’s and sister’s rooms and he could hear Nick’s snoring as he paused by his brother’s door.

For a moment, he considered waking up Nick and enlisting his aid, but then decided against it. Jarrod was a private man by nature and Heath knew that he disliked being sick in the presence of family members, including Nick. It was another aspect of the stubbornness found in Barkley men, and one that he shared with his brothers.

Heath headed down the back stairway, stopping at the bottom of the stairs to toss the blanket over the railing. With the ease of long practice, he slipped his gun belt on, tugging it down so that it rested securely on his hips. He drew out his revolver to check the cartridge, and then slipped his gun back into its holster. Jarrod might be sick or hurt out there or maybe he was just drunk, but it wouldn’t do him any good if Heath went out there unprepared. For all he knew, the Kyles could be out there, just waiting for him or another member of the family to come to Jarrod’s aid. Like his sister Audra.

Grimly, Heath retrieved the blanket and started for the back door, but then stopped as a thought occurred to him. Might as well be prepared for whatever happens, he thought. So he headed off to the study before exiting the home.

* * * * * * * *

Heath pressed down on Jarrod’s shoulders and squeezed gently. He could feel his brother’s body shaking beneath the blanket, and he wondered, is he ill? As far as he could tell up close, Jarrod was uninjured. There was also no tell-tale smell of liquor, so he didn’t think that his older brother had been drinking. But in the moonlight, he could see that Jarrod looked as white as a sheet, and he had seen him vomiting from his bedroom window.

There was also the matter of Jarrod being in the barn, in his nightclothes, late at night. He was certain that his brother had come out to look at the brand mark, but he couldn’t fathom why Jarrod would have had such an extreme reaction to it. It just didn’t make any sense.

He looked around quickly, making sure that there was no one lurking about who might do either of them harm, and then turned his attention back to Jarrod.

“I’m goin' to go over to the pump, Jarrod, to get some water. Stay put now; I’ll be right back.” He squeezed the shaking shoulders once more to reinforce his command, and then moved away towards the water trough.

Jarrod pulled the blanket around him more tightly, trying to stop his shivering and watched in silence as his younger brother walked away. Heath needn’t have worried; he didn’t think he could stand if he tried. His legs were shaking almost as much as the rest of him. Jarrod reached up to his head, which was pounding in time with his heart. Involuntarily, he moaned.

Heath was back at his side in a minute. “Here, rinse your mouth out with this.” He handed Jarrod a metal cup filled to the brim with cold, fresh water.

Jarrod took the cup automatically and did as instructed. He could taste the bitterness of the metal in the water but at least it partially removed the taste of vomit. When he was finished, Heath took the cup from his hand and replaced it with a bandanna that he had soaked with water from the pump.

“Wipe your face, too. It’ll help, you’ll see. I’m goin' back to the pump to refill this. We need to get some more water into you.” And with that, Heath was off again.

As he made his way back to the pump, Heath’s concern for his brother increased. It was obvious that Jarrod was dehydrated after his vomiting; Heath had seen the same kind of thing happen to other men when he was imprisoned in Carterson. He knew that giving Jarrod water would help revive him. What really had him worried was that his brother hadn’t uttered one word since Heath had found him, which was unlike the lawyer. Jarrod’s head was apparently hurting him also, for Heath had seen him reach for his forehead and heard him moan. As a boy in Strawberry, Heath had known miners who had similar symptoms, and suffered attacks that left them speechless and unable to move limbs. If that’s what was happening with his brother, then Heath needed to get him help right away.

If Jarrod couldn’t tell him what was going on or stand up on his own in a few minutes, he’d go wake up Mother and Nick, Barkley stubbornness be damned. Mind made up, Heath carried the water back to the stricken man, ready to put his plan into action if need be.

* * * * * * * *

Jarrod eagerly drank the water that Heath brought to him. His headache was starting to ease and he no longer felt nauseous. The longer he sat, the less shaky he felt. He handed the cup and red bandanna back to his brother and looked up at Heath gratefully.

“More water please, Brother Heath,” he croaked out, his voice hoarse from his ordeal.

Heath smiled in the darkness. It looked like he wouldn’t need Mother or Nick after all. Jarrod’s voice sounded like music to his ears, even if it did lack its usual timbre. Perhaps now he’d be able to get an explanation from him about what had happened in the barn. He took the cup from his brother’s outstretched hand.

“Comin’ right up, Counselor!”

Heath missed the look on Jarrod’s face, as he walked back towards the pump one last time. The lawyer’s eyes followed him, remembering his earlier conversation with Nick. If Jarrod was going to make things right between him and Heath, it would have to be now, while it was just the two of them.

He just hoped that he could get Heath to understand and that it wouldn’t hurt him further.

Part Four

As Heath walked away, he realized that as badly as he wanted to talk to Jarrod about what had happened in the barn, their discussion would have to wait. He had more pressing matters to attend to.

For one thing, he was concerned about Jarrod being outside in the cool night air. From what Heath been told by Nick, his oldest brother was prone to catching pneumonia. True, he had brought him the blanket from his room, but he didn’t know if that would provide enough warmth to ward off the dreaded disease. There was also the still real possibility Jake Kyles and his sons would return, to carry out their earlier threats. Heath wanted the entire family inside, so he could deal with the Kyles on his own without worrying where the other members of his family were.

He walked back towards Jarrod more slowly this time, with his hand on his gun and eyes scanning the area once more to make sure that they were still alone.

As he approached, Jarrod looked up. He noted the position of Heath’s hand on his gun and the way he moved, vigilant to their surroundings. As Heath handed him the cup, he chuckled softly.

“No need to worry, Heath. If it’s the Kyles you’re concerned about, you can relax. The whole family is tucked away for the night in Sheriff Madden’s jail.”

Heath just stood there and stared down at the lawyer as he drained the cup completely. Then he crossed his arms and raising his left eyebrow, gave his brother his best ‘Oh?’ look.

“Really, Jarrod? Do tell!”

Jarrod looked up at him and gestured down at the bench. “If you sit down right here, Brother Heath, I’ll enlighten you.”

Heath grinned at him, the smile reaching his eyes as he felt the weight lift from his shoulders. With the Kyles locked up, he could relax his guard, at least for this night. But he still wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to let Jarrod stay outside in his nightclothes.

“Tell you what, Jarrod. Why don’t we go inside first? A man could get consumption or pneumonia, sittin’ out here all night.”

He was surprised when Jarrod sat up straight and cursed at him angrily. “Damn it to Hell, Heath! Not you, too!!”

Seeing the younger man’s look of confusion, Jarrod immediately relented. “I’m sorry, Heath….I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. It’s just that I’ve had pneumonia only once in my life, when I was three years old, but the family treats me like I’m prone to it.” He shook his head disgustedly.

Heath could sympathize with his older brother. Since coming to live with the Barkleys, all he had to do was sneeze and Mother would be there with a hot water bottle and tablespoon of fish oil. Looking at Jarrod with a critical eye, he decided that just this once he would risk Victoria Barkley’s ire.

“Well, if you’re sure,” he drawled, “Then I guess we can stay out here for a little while longer. Just don’t tell Mother about this in the mornin’, or she’ll be after me with that wooden spoon that Nick is always tellin’ me about.”

Heath’s joke had the intended effect on his brother. Jarrod chuckled softly and immediately relaxed. He slumped back against the corral fence, and looking pointedly at Heath, indicated the spot beside him without saying another word.

Heath smiled back at him. “Move over, Big Brother. I have a sudden hankerin’ to sit down for awhile.”

* * * * * * * *

Jarrod placed the metal cup on the bench between them. He knew that Heath would make sure that the cup was back in its place before the rest of the men were up. The water had gone a long way toward refreshing him, even if it had left a bitter taste in his mouth. As he stretched his legs out in front of him, he could feel the strength returning to them. Now, there was just one other thing he wanted.

“You know what I could do with right now, Heath?” he said suddenly, wistfully.

Heath considered him. “A good stiff drink?”

“No.” Jarrod shook his head vehemently. “I don’t think my stomach could handle even my best scotch at the moment. No, I wish I had a good, strong cigar right now.” He looked over longingly at the house.

Heath grinned slyly. “Well, would you look here!” He reached into the pocket of his tan vest and pulled out two fresh cigars that he had removed from the humidor on the desk in the study. “Ask and you shall receive, as the Good Book says.” He chuckled at the expression on Jarrod’s face; his eyes had gone as wide as a child’s looking through the window of a candy store.

Jarrod’s lips curled into a wry smile and his eyes twinkled. “Brother Heath, I trust you remembered to bring matches as well?”

Heath reached over to the pocket on the other side of his vest and pulled out the box of matches that Jarrod usually kept on the desk. “The Good Book also says that the Lord helps those who help themselves,” he intoned in a pious voice.

Jarrod laughed out loud, his baritone ringing out clearly in the quiet of night.

Heath handed one of the cigars to him and stuck the other back in his vest pocket. While Jarrod bit the end off of his, Heath struck a match for him and cupping it carefully in his hand, held it out towards his brother. Grateful for the light, Jarrod leaned forward and as Heath held the match to the end of his cigar, he drew his breath in, puffing deeply until the tip of his cigar glowed red.

With a sigh, Jarrod leaned back against the corral fence and crossed his legs, relishing the cigar. He felt warm and comfortable, his headache was almost gone and he had stopped shivering. By God, he almost felt human again. He puffed away contentedly, while Heath lit his own cigar and leaned back to join him.

For a few minutes, neither spoke, each lost in his own thoughts. Finally, Heath broke the silence.

“So, Jarrod, are you goin’ to tell me what tonight was all about?” He glanced at the other man briefly, then looked away as he brought his cigar back up to his mouth for a quick puff.

If Jarrod wondered about Heath being there, he gave no indication of it. He eyed him questioningly instead. “I thought you wanted to hear about the Kyles being jailed by Fred Madden?”

It wasn’t lost on Heath that his lawyer-brother had effectively evaded his question. He decided not to push Jarrod on it, until the time was right. “Don’t need to. It’s enough for me to know that they’re not going to be botherin’ anyone tonight." He caught Jarrod's gaze then and frowned at him. "Now, tomorrow night, that’s another matter.”

Jarrod smiled back at him. “You won’t have to worry about them for at least two more days. Fred intends to keep them locked up until the weekend is over and tempers have a chance to cool down. Besides, I can’t think of anyone in Stockton right now who’d be willing to post bail for them, not after what’s happened this past week.” He leaned his head back and took another quick puff on his cigar. “Jake Kyles may be a brute and ill-mannered, but he’s not stupid. I think that he is going to realize that everyone in town is going to be keeping a close watch on him and his sons from now on. Still….,” Jarrod turned his head and studied his brother with a look that Heath couldn’t quite define, “we can talk to Nick in the morning about posting some of the men to watch the house and grounds until things settle down.”

Heath considered his cigar before taking another puff himself. “What happens now, Jarrod, as far as Korby is concerned? Are you still goin’ to be representing him?” His part in the trial might be over, but Heath had learned a thing or two about trials and lawyers since coming to live with the Barkleys.

Jarrod shook his head, slowly. “No, I’m through being Korby Kyles’ lawyer. He fired me tonight. I told him, back at the jail, that I had represented him to the best of my ability and would continue to do so for as long as he needed a lawyer. Then I recommended he throw himself on the mercy of the court, but he wouldn’t listen to me. He damned me to Hell instead and sent me packing. I suppose the judge will re-assign Matt Cooper to him for the sentencing. But at least my conscience is clear,”…..on that point at least, Jarrod thought to himself without voicing it out loud. He took another puff on the cigar, but changed his grip so that the cigar was balanced on the tips of his fingers.

Heath noted this, and was more cautious with his next question. “So if the trial is over for you and your conscience is clear, why are you still upset?”

Part Five

So if the trial is over for you and your conscience is clear, why are you still upset?

The first indication to Heath that his question had hit home was the change in Jarrod’s posture. He sensed rather than felt his brother stiffen beside him. Heath watched as Jarrod’s grip on his cigar tightened, threatening to crush it. He held his breath, waiting to see if his brother would answer him or not.

Sitting beside Heath in the dark, Jarrod fought to control the rising unease that his half-brother’s question had prompted. The cigar had gone a long way towards calming his nerves, but his stomach was another matter. Heath’s question had hit him like a blow to the solar plexus. He clamped down on his emotional and physical responses, using every technique he had honed over the years in the courtroom.

Heath watched silently, waiting. He studied Jarrod’s face in the moonlight. His brother’s face was unreadable for once, but Heath could sense the tension that now lay beneath the surface of their brotherly camaraderie. He sighed; it was going to be harder than he thought to get Jarrod to open up to him.

The funny thing was, he was almost certain that Jarrod wanted to talk to him alone. Why else would he have insisted they stay outside while they smoked? His oldest brother would have been far more comfortable inside, sitting in one of the padded armchairs in the parlor instead of this hard wooden bench outside. But that meant that there was also the possibility of being interrupted or overheard by family.

He would just have to wait, Heath decided, until Jarrod was ready. After all, he had waited for a brother his entire life; he could wait for this brother a little while longer.

* * * * * * * *

With effort, Jarrod brought himself back under control. Once he achieved the calm he sought, he slowly brought his cigar back to his mouth, taking two quick puffs while he considered the question that Heath had asked. He wanted to answer his brother, wanted to make things right between them, but he was at a loss as to how to begin. Vaguely, he wondered how Heath had picked up on the fact that he was distressed. He wasn’t used to being read so easily.

“Heath,” he began slowly, “what makes you think I’m upset?”

Heath decided to try to draw his reticent brother out onto safe ground. He pointed to the cigar that Jarrod held, without comment.

Jarrod was confused. What did his cigar have to do with it? “My cigar? I don’t understand…”

Heath shrugged. “It’s the way you’re holdin’ it. When things are going’ well or you’re relaxed, you hold it in the crook of your finger, like this.” He demonstrated, curling his finger over the middle portion of his own cigar. “But,” he continued, “when things aren’t goin’ so well or you’re upset about something, you tend to hold it tight in your fingers, like you’re doin’ right now.” He shifted his grip on his own cigar, mimicking Jarrod’s grip.

Despite the situation, Jarrod was fascinated; no one had ever pointed that out to him before, and he was amazed that Heath had picked up on it. “Heath,” he began in admiration,” I’m frankly astonished. I had no idea you were so observant.”

Heath froze as he felt the safe conversational ground shift slightly and responded impulsively. “Oh, I’m observant about most things….with or without light.”

* * * * * * * *

Jarrod stared at Heath, shocked into silence.

Damn, damn, damn!!! His mind replayed their conversation and he cringed as his words echoed in his head. How could I have said that to him, after what I put him through on the witness stand? He shook his head slowly, as if in denial of his own thoughts, his gaze never leaving Heath’s face. Why do I keep hurting him with words, when all I really want to do is to explain to him and make things right between us? How can I ask for his understanding after that?

With all his heart, Jarrod wished that he could take back the words he had just spoken to his younger brother.

So that’s what the Counselor looks like when he’s at a loss for words!

It would have been funny, Heath thought, except for the stricken look about the older man’s eyes. It was the same look he had seen on Jarrod’s face after Korby Kyles had tried to flee from the courthouse.

Now you’ve gone and done it, Boy! He berated himself silently. What in the name of the Almighty possessed you to say that to him?!

He watched as Jarrod turned away from him and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees while he stared blankly at the ground. Jarrod’s cigar hung loosely from his fingers while his other hand clutched the ends of the blanket draped over his shoulders. Heath realized, with a start, that his brother was withdrawing from him, both physically and mentally.

Suddenly and irrationally, Heath’s temper flared. He studied his brother and thought, Oh no, you don’t!!! I didn’t come out here tonight and pull you out of yourself this far just to have you retreat now, Jarrod! Come on, Counselor; show me what you’re made of!!

He leaned back casually against the corral fence, in complete contrast to the other man’s hunched posture and continued their conversation as if nothing had happened. He addressed Jarrod’s back matter-of-factly.

“Why,” he drawled, “I’m so good at seein’ things in the dark that I even saw you, Jarrod, comin’ out of the barn tonight. Of course, I wasn’t expectin’ to see you; I figured I’d see Jake Kyles and his boys instead, comin’ back to finish what they started.” He took a puff on his cigar, exhaled slowly and then leaned in close to Jarrod, ignoring the shivering that racked his brother’s body once again. “I suppose Nick told you about the talk he and I had. Did you get a good look at the brand mark on the door, Jarrod? Boy howdy, that Jake Kyles has an arm on him….I bet when he brands his calves, the marks are clean…..”

“That’s enough!!!” Jarrod thundered. He flung the blanket off his shoulders, threw his cigar to the side and jumped to his feet, whirling to face Heath. “Damn it, Heath! Why didn’t you tell us that the Kyles threatened to brand you?!”

Part Six

Heath glanced up at his oldest brother. The blue eyes, so similar yet different in color from his own, were almost black in the moonlight, but he could see flashes of Jarrod’s fury reflected in them. He stood over Heath, fists clenched as if he were trying to hold himself back from throttling his younger brother. If it was Nick, Heath would have been on his feet and ready to defend himself. But Jarrod was different. His anger ran like molten silver, hot at the core but quick to cool once released. And Jarrod had never once raised his hand to Heath in anger, only in kinship.

He still had no idea why the mention of the branding threat brought his oldest brother’s rage to the surface or why the anger was directed at him instead of the Kyles. But at least Jarrod was talking to him again. If he was going to get answers of his own, it was clear that he would have to diffuse Jarrod’s anger.

Meeting his brother’s glare squarely, he took another puff on his cigar, cocked his left eyebrow at him and remarked calmly, “I see you got your voice back, Counselor.” He glanced over to the cigar that Jarrod had thrown aside. “Shame to waste an expensive cigar like that.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out another one, offering it to Jarrod as if it were a peace offering. “Truce?”

Jarrod shook his head angrily, refusing to be placated. “I asked you a question and I want an answer, now.” He raised his chin, challenging Heath. “Why didn’t you tell us that the Kyles threatened you with a branding?”

Heath shrugged and returned the cigar to his vest pocket. Scooping the metal cup up in one hand, he placed his cigar in it and returned the cup to the bench. He slowly rose to his feet and faced Jarrod.

He was careful to keep his voice level; it wouldn’t do to lose control now. “Because it didn’t happen, Jarrod. Because I’m not a boy any more and can defend myself. Because it isn’t the worse thing I’ve been threatened with in my life. Take your pick!” He went on more quietly, “Besides, what difference does it make? Why should it matter to you so much?”

Why should it matter to you so much? Jarrod didn’t miss the emphasis in Heath’s last question, the shift from us to you. Here was his chance to explain, to try to make Heath understand his actions and what he had risked and perhaps lost. He slowly unclenched his fists as his anger drained out of him “It matters to me a great deal.” His voice dropped lower and Heath had to strain to hear it. “Because if I had known about it, I might not have taken Korby’s case.”

* * * * * * * *

It was now Heath’s turn to look shocked. He could see that his lawyer-brother was serious. He sat back down slowly onto the bench and raised his eyes to meet Jarrod’s.

“I don’t understand……”

Jarrod studied Heath's face. There was no animosity there or condemnation in his younger brother’s eyes, just confusion and a willingness to listen. He released a sigh of relief and placed his right hand on Heath’s shoulder, steadying himself for the discussion to come.

“Heath, if I had known, I might not have taken the case because anyone capable of threatening to brand a person could easily be capable of murder.

Heath was confused. “But you said it yourself…Korby wasn’t responsible for the actions of his family.”

Jarrod nodded his head. “No, he wasn’t. But if his father and brothers were willing to go that far to stop you from testifying, then it stands to reason that Korby had that capability in him as well.”

“But a branding isn’t murder, Jarrod.”

Jarrod took a deep breath. “No, it isn’t. But it shows a lack of compassion and a disregard for human suffering, two qualities that no moral man possesses. A man who intentionally inflicts pain on another could easily take another man’s life.

“But still, you thought he was innocent...didn't you.” It was a statement, and not a question. In his mind, Heath pictured once more the look of shock on his brother’s face as he watched Korby Kyles being subdued by the men in the courtroom, the realization sinking in that his client was guilty.

Jarrod hung his head. “God help me, yes, I did, even though you were sure you had seen him in the alley that night.”

Part Seven

Jarrod fell silent, leaving Heath to wonder how he should respond. It was clear that this admission was weighing heavily on his older brother; Heath wondered if it was the “mistake” Jarrod had referred to when he arrived back at the house earlier that night.

The family had gathered in the parlor at the usual time that evening, waiting for Jarrod to come home so they could go into supper. When thirty minutes had gone by and he still hadn’t shown up or sent word, it became obvious that they had a long wait ahead of them.

They had had plenty of time to discuss the trial and events of the day as well as the events of the past two weeks. As the conversation progressed, it became obvious that Jarrod was the focus of each person’s concern. Finally, by tacit agreement, Victoria had Silas put the food into warmers so they could serve themselves later when the lawyer finally came home. Then the Barkley family retired back to the parlor to wait for their errant family member.

No one had looked up as Jarrod finally entered the home two hours later, but they had all heard his steps retreat towards the stairs first. THAT no one had anticipated. Then the steps stopped briefly and Heath could have sworn that each family member held his or her breath. It seemed like an eternity, but then the soft treads made their way into the parlor, followed by the sound of an object being slammed onto the table. Heath jumped, and opposite him, he saw Mother flinch but neither looked up. The whole family had agreed that no one would say or do anything until Jarrod had spoken.

All right…here’s to big brother, who's proved that he’s capable of making the biggest mistake ever! There was no mistaking the self-accusatory tone in Jarrod’s voice at the time, and even though it was absent now, Heath couldn’t help but think that he and Jarrod had finally arrived at the critical point of the matter, the mistake that Jarrod had referred to earlier. God help me, yes, I did; even though you were sure you had seen him in the alley that night.

But how was he supposed to respond to the despair in Jarrod’s voice, to let him know that while he didn’t understand it all yet, he held no grudge against him? He thought furiously, and then remembered something that he had seen Nick do time and time again. Slowly and hesitantly, he placed his hand over Jarrod’s as it rested on his shoulder, in a gesture of support.

* * * * * * * *

It took only a few seconds for Heath to register that Jarrod’s hand was quivering beneath his. Looking up, he saw that his older brother’s eyes were closed. Heath stood quickly and grabbing both of the older man’s arms, guided him back down into a sitting position.

“Jarrod, are you alright? He studied his brother anxiously.

Jarrod slowly opened his eyes and blinked a few times. “Yes, Heath, I’m fine. I think I stood for a little too long a little too soon. Just give me a few minutes.” He leaned back against the corral fence and closed his eyes, gathering his reserves.

Not sure of what else to do, Heath pulled the spare cigar and matches back out of his pockets. “Big Brother, you look like you could use another one of these……..and I’m not takin’ ‘no’ for an answer this time. You just hold on a minute.”

Heath lit the cigar quickly, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked in enough air to draw the flame to the tip. He blew the match out and dropped it into the cup. Jarrod’s eyes were still closed, so Heath gently shook his shoulder. “Here, Jarrod.”

Jarrod opened his eyes and accepted the cigar gratefully from his brother. He eyed his brother’s empty hands. “What happened to your cigar?”

Heath lifted the cup and pulled his cigar out. “Um, it got a little wet, and I only brought one extra.” He thought longingly of the tobacco and cigarette papers he had left back up in his room, but there was no way that he was going to leave his brother now.

“Its all right, Jarrod…I don’t need another one. You go ahead and smoke that one.”

Jarrod shook his head. “Never mind….we’ll share.” He passed it back to Heath, adding, “And I’m not accepting ‘no’ as an answer either, Little Brother. Sit down; Pappy’s orders.”

Heath opened his mouth to protest, but then reconsidered Jarrod’s offer. He accepted the cigar and back sat down without further argument.

He took a few puffs, and then passed the cigar back to Jarrod. “Jarrod,’ he ventured cautiously.

“Hmm?’

“You did come out to the barn to look at the brand, didn’t you?”

Jarrod took a deep puff on the cigar and exhaled slowly. He nodded, knowing what Heath’s next question would be.

“Is the brand the reason you were sick tonight?”

Jarrod considered the question and his answer. Surprisingly, he could think about the brand now without any of the physical symptoms he had experienced earlier.

“Yes, Heath. Seeing it made me relive an old memory, and not a very pleasant one at that.”

Part Eight

Heath waited to see if his brother would elaborate further but the lawyer remained silent. He glanced at his dark-haired brother expectantly, but Jarrod seemed to be lost in thought. In the moonlight, Heath could make out just the trace of a frown on the expressive face and the sheen of sweat. Could be he’s goin’ to be sick again, Heath thought, or is it somethin’ else?

“Uh, Jarrod? Are you sure you’re all right?”

Jarrod came to with a start and glanced at him sheepishly. “Sorry, Heath. Yes, I’m….fine.” He smiled at the blond cowboy reassuringly. “I was caught up in the memory for a moment. Please bear with me for just a little while longer while I collect my thoughts…,” so I can explain this clearly with no misunderstanding on either of our parts, he added silently, “and then I’ll tell you about it.”

Heath could see the plea in his brother’s eyes, and another thought occurred to him. Could be he’s nervous about talkin’ about it. If this was the case, he could definitely sympathize with Jarrod. He too had his share of unpleasant memories, memories that he personally did not intend to share with anyone. Still, he recognized that it took a certain kind of trust and courage to open up to another person, even if the person was family. That Jarrod was willing to share one of his unpleasant memories with his newest brother meant a lot to him. As Hannah always said, everyone had their own burden to carry and until you walked the same path, in their shoes, you never knew how heavy it was.

Heath had chosen his current path when it had been offered to him and he had walked in Barkley boots since then, both figuratively, and in the case of his father’s boots, literally. He carried the Barkley name now, with all the responsibility that came with it...including the responsibility of being his brother’s keeper. Heath wondered what it had been like for Tom Barkley's firstborn, born to the Barkley name with all the expectations that followed it. He had a feeling that he was about to find out.

“Okay, Counselor, on one condition…..I get custody of the cigar back.”

Jarrod chuckled at the joke that was apparently tailor-made for him, appreciative of Heath’s quick wit.

“All right, Mister Barkley…I agree to your condition.” He handed the cigar back to Heath, who took it with a ghost of his usual smile as he realized how close his older brother had come to mirroring his thoughts. Jarrod had told him once that he could sense certain things about Nick; he wondered if the same was becoming true with him.

A minute passed, with silence between them. Then Jarrod spoke without preamble.

“When I was seven years old, I was witness to a branding.” At Heath’s look of consternation, he quickly added, “Oh, it was an accident …..It happened to one of our hired hands. Father and Duke were teaching a new man how to brand a calf, and Father wanted me to watch, because one day he was going to teach me how to do it too.” Jarrod’s voice turned pensive as he cast back through the memory. “Somehow, during the branding the calf’s hind leg got loose, and without thinking, the new man grabbed for it just as Duke swung the iron around.”

Jarrod looked over at Heath to gauge his reaction; Heath sat there, not moving, listening intently. He caught Jarrod’s glance and nodded his head once, encouraging him to continue.

“The brand….OUR brand, came in contact with the man’s arm. I saw and heard it all, Heath. It was…horrific.” Jarrod paused, and then continued. “Father ordered me to run up to the house to get Mother while he and Duke tried to tend to the man. Silas wasn’t with us at the time,” he added almost as an after thought. “As I ran, I could still picture the man writhing in the dirt, in agony….. And I wondered if it could happen to me.”

Heath took a deep puff on the cigar and handed it back to Jarrod without being asked. “Go on, Jarrod; what happened after that?”

Jarrod crossed his legs and rested his arm on his thigh, as a wisp of blue smoke rose from the half-smoked cigar. “Mother had Father and Duke bring the man up to the house, so she could treat him there. There was no doctor available back in those days; folks had to make do with whatever supplies or knowledge of healing they had. Mother treated him as best as she could and in time, the man’s injury healed, but not without extensive scarring. Needless to say, he didn’t stay on with us very long.” Jarrod took a long puff on the cigar. “It took a long time for me to become comfortable around the corral and cattle after that. Father understood I think, and didn’t push me until I was able to put it behind me. Eventually, I learned to rope and brand the way he wanted me too, but my heart wasn’t really in it. Luckily for him, Nick was right behind me and eager to learn all that Father could teach him about ranching.”

“As for me, I discovered that as I got older, my interests tended more towards books and schooling. The further away I got from ranching, the easier it was to bury the memory and forget that it ever happened,” Jarrod’s voice grew grim, “until tonight, when Nick told me about the threat the Kyles made to you. Going to the barn and seeing the mark brought the memory back full force, Heath, only this time the man in the memory wasn’t our ranch hand…it was you instead, lying there in the dirt and in pain.” He looked towards his younger brother and waited for his reaction.

He didn't have to wait long. "But Jarrod, it didn't happen. I’m not in pain, and no one has branded me." Heath let his exasperation carry through to his words.

Jarrod regarded him solemnly and shook his head. "You're wrong, Heath. Nick told me tonight that I wronged you, that I cut you down to size in front of the whole town when I questioned you on the witness stand." He uncrossed his legs, leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs, keeping his gaze averted. "It may not have been a physical mark that I put on you, but it was surely a hurt to your spirit and your position in the family and community. Even Mother tried to tell me what I was risking, but I never fully realized what consequences would likely follow if I took Korby Kyles' case." He turned and fixed his gaze unwavering on Heath's. "For that, I owe you an apology." Jarrod waited for his younger brother's reaction.

Heath's response was immediate and brief, and not what Jarrod had been expecting. "Counselor, you're wrong, dead wrong!"

Part Nine

As Jarrod opened his mouth to protest, Heath made a cutting motion with his hand, effectively silencing him. He watched in frustration as Heath jumped to his feet and began to pace back and forth in front of him. In despair, he realized that his approach wasn’t working….he had to try again.

“Heath, I……” The blond cowboy silenced him with a look that would have done Tom Barkley proud, and then stopped to stand in front of him, forcing him to look up.

Heath stood there, feet wide apart, with his arms folded across his chest. “Hear me out on this, Jarrod, or we’re through talkin’!” By his stance and tone of voice, Jarrod knew he was serious. He acquiesced without another word, and waited to hear what his younger brother had to say.

“First of all, forget anythin’ Nick said to you about what happened between us in the courtroom today. Nick jumps to conclusions, just like Audra.” Realizing he was raising his voice at the man sitting before him, Heath softened his tone. “What’s important between you and me is what’s happenin’ right here, right now, understand?" At the lawyer’s nod of agreement, he continued. “Jarrod, do you remember what you said that day in the parlor, after you told us that you were takin’ Korby’s case?

Jarrod thought back. “I remember saying that I had no choice about it.”

“You said more than that, Counselor.” Heath urged him on. “What else did you say?!”

Jarrod closed his eyes and cast back through his memory. He had entered the parlor and found Heath lying on the settee, his face battered and bleeding, with Audra tending to him. Nick had been donning his gun belt with the obvious intention of going after whoever had hurt Heath. Jarrod had taken in what was happening at once, had told Nick that he knew better than to act as a vigilante, and then promised Heath that the Kyles would pay for the beating they had given him. Heath hadn’t said anything about the branding threat, just that Jake and his sons had threatened the entire family if he testified, and that he had no intention of changing his testimony or backing down. Jarrod had then told them that Korby wasn’t responsible for his family’s actions and that he had decided to represent him. What had he said then….?

Heath watched as Jarrod suddenly stiffened, and his eyes flew open. “Go on, Jarrod. Tell me what you said."

Jarrod spoke softly. “I said, ‘What chance does a man have when his own lawyer’s convinced he’s guilty.’”

Heath nodded and uncrossed his arms, relaxing his stance. He moved to sit back down beside his brother. “Jarrod, you said tonight that you thought Korby was innocent. Did you always believe that?”

Jarrod shook his head. “No, Heath, I wasn’t sure if he was guilty or not when I first considered taking his case. But the Law presumes that every man is innocent until proven guilty, and I was willing to represent Korby on that basis. If I determined in the course of my investigations that he was guilty, then I planned to recommend to him that he throw himself on the mercy of the court. Remember how we discussed that?”

Heath nodded and pressed on. “But you did come to believe that he was innocent, Jarrod. Why?”

Why? There was no other way for Jarrod to answer that question except as truthfully as he could. He owed Heath that much.

“Heath, the fact of the matter is that as my investigations progressed, certain things he told me turned out to be true, such as the Colonel’s involvement in the opium trade. It occurred to me then that Korby might be telling the truth about not being the one who killed Colonel Ashby after all. And there was one other thing that made me want to believe him…….”

Jarrod stopped suddenly, as if he was unsure how to proceed and glanced at Heath. Heath merely nodded his head, curious at his brother's hesitation. “Go on, Jarrod. What was that?”

Jarrod swallowed hard. “Heath, he swore to me on his mother’s grave that he was telling me the truth. I had known his mother before she died.” Jarrod thought back to the first time he had met Korby’s mother. It had been when Nick was born. “Virginia and Jacob Kyles moved to this valley around the same time as Father and Mother. Virginia Kyles and Mother were fast friends, until Jake forbid his wife to have anything to do with my parents.”

Heath had wondered about the relationship between the Kyles and Barkleys. Jake Kyle had addressed Victoria Barkley with an almost unheard of familiarity that day the Kyles had come to request the lawyer’s services for Korby. It explained a lot; respect for one’s parents meant a great deal to his siblings, especially to ‘Pappy’, who had become the head of the family when Thomas Barkley had been shot and killed. Heath refocused back on their conversation as he realized that Jarrod was still speaking. “…. At that point, I began to believe him, and maybe even needed to believe him. But that also meant that I had to discredit your testimony….” Jarrod’s voice trailed off as if he was afraid to say anything more.

Heath waited for a moment to make sure he had his brother's attention, and then spoke. “Jarrod, it seems to me that given what you found out, you were right to believe him. You were….” And he paused to drive his point home, “doin' what you were supposed to do, as his lawyer. You set out to prove he was innocent and gave him a chance when no one else in this town would.” His voice gentled and he rested his hand on Jarrod’s forearm. “You don’t owe me or anyone else an apology for doing your best to defend Korby Kyles.”

Part Ten

Jarrod sat still and stared at the hand that rested on his arm. He could feel the weight of Heath’s hand through the thickness of his robe, imparting a sense of security and comfort. The gesture was so reminiscent of his father that for a moment he thought that if he were to close his eyes, he could imagine it was Father sitting beside him. It occurred to him that Heath had reached out to him twice tonight; he wondered if his younger brother was even consciously aware of the fact that he was doing it.

Touch came naturally to most members of his family. His father, Thomas Barkley, had grown up in a large, close-knit family, surrounded by cousins, aunts and uncles. It had been as natural for him to show affection with a hug or a pat on the back as it was for him to breathe air. In turn, he had passed that tendency on to his children. Of all the Barkley children, Nick resembled their father the most in that regard. Jarrod still remembered the exuberant greeting Nick had given him that day on the train, when he had returned from San Francisco after presenting the ranch holders case to the high court. It was the same day that the Barkleys had met and learned about Heath for the first time.

Jarrod’s gaze traveled from the hand on his forearm up to his younger brother’s face. In the moonlight, Heath looked older than his years and Jarrod realized for the first time just how much Tom Barkley’s fourth son had matured in the past year. Heath had grown into a man worthy of the Barkley name, a man who Jarrod was proud to call ‘Brother’. Despite the turmoil of his early days with them, he had learned how to forge bonds with each member of the family, from his step-mother on down to their youngest brother, to the point that he could reach out as easily as he had tonight, to Jarrod. Their father, Jarrod realized, would have been proud of Heath if he had had the chance to meet the son he never knew he sired. And he would have been as supportive and protective of him as he had been with the rest of his children.

The thought brought with it a chill that wasn’t due to the coolness of the night, and Jarrod shivered. He thought back to his questioning of Heath during the last day of the trial today. The issue of his believing in Korby Kyles’ innocence might have been put to rest tonight but there still the matter of his treatment of Heath on the witness stand that needed to be settled between them.

* * * * * * * *

Heath didn’t miss the involuntary shake of the arm under his hand. While it only lasted a second, that and the lateness of the hour was enough to convince him that it was time for both he and Jarrod to get to bed. He pointed to the spent cigar in Jarrod’s hand.

“Jarrod, it looks like it’s time to quit smokin’, stop talkin’ and start walkin.’ Besides, this is a workin’ ranch, and Nick’ll have my hide if I’m not up and ready for him tomorrow morn…um,” he corrected himself quickly, “this morning.” He slipped his hand under Jarrod’s arm surreptitiously and started to lift him into standing, but the other man resisted him.

“Hold on, Heath…..I’m not finished yet.” Jarrod pulled his arm out from under Heath’s grip, sitting tight. “We still have to talk about your testimony today.”

Heath sighed. He had hoped that they were finished, that he had gotten through to his older brother that what had happened during the course of the trial and on the witness stand today wasn’t important. Not now. But he should have known better. Jarrod could be like an old dog with a piece of rawhide; he had to worry and gnaw at a matter before he could toss it aside. Damn Nick for putting the fool notion into the firstborn's head that he had cut his younger brother down to size in front of the town. He hadn’t, and it was irrelevant.

Heath made one last attempt to stave off the impending discussion. “Before you start in on tellin' me that you think you hurt me on the stand with all that business about no light to see by, let me remind you, Counselor, that I was the one who was proved right in the end. If anyone got taken down a notch or two from this, it’s likely you…..so I guess we’re even.” There, he couldn’t have put it any plainer than that. Check, he thought smugly. “So, since we’ve both had us a day, are you ready to head on in now?” He waited expectantly, sure that Jarrod would give in.

Jarrod didn’t budge. “I think that’s an accurate assessment, Brother Heath……..but I wasn’t talking about that, although I thank you for pointing it out to me in case I missed it.” Jarrod wasn’t angry; he could see that his brother wasn’t upset, he was just being direct and to the point…..just being Heath. Jarrod picked up the nearly forgotten metal cup, placed the last cigar in it and cradled it in his hands.

“I never answered your question, Heath……I never told you why I wasn’t worried about your testifying or my cross-examining you on the witness stand. I’m ready to answer it now.”

* * * * * * * *

Heath eyed Jarrod first in surprise and then warily as the full impact of his statement sank in. Apparently, he was mistaken. The game they were playing wasn’t chess, but poker, and his brother had just raised the stakes. Now, the bet was back to Heath.

He thought back to their discussion of a few nights ago. They had been alone in the dining room at the time and he had asked his lawyer-brother if he thought he had a chance of winning Korby Kyles’ case. He hadn’t really expected Jarrod to answer him as directly as he had.

“A good one, based on what I’ve got. But I’ve heard that Greene has a surprise witness – that worries me."

Heath’s next question had surprised them both. “And I don’t?”

He still didn’t know why he had asked that particular question of his oldest sibling. He didn’t dare look to Jarrod, but concentrated instead on his meal, maintaining an aura of calmness that he didn’t feel as he waited to for his brother's response. With characteristic caution, Jarrod didn’t answer him outright, expounding instead on his responsibility as a lawyer, ostensibly to warn Heath about what to expect when it was his turn to question Heath on the stand. Relieved, Heath had let himself take his brother’s statement more as a friendly challenge, and responded as such, letting Jarrod know that he’d be ready for him. In hindsight, Heath realized that he should have taken his lawyer-brother’s warning more seriously; after all, this was the brother who had engaged the services of the Pinkerton agency to investigate Heath’s claim that Tom Barkley was his father. Jarrod would be no less thorough in defending a man against a murder charge.

Looks like there’s no choice but to call him on it, Heath thought to himself. Jarrod’s gonna see this through, come hell or high water. But do you really want to hear his answer? He decided that he did; if the matter wasn’t settled between them, it would always cast a shadow over their relationship, and Heath was tired of dealing with shadows. It was time to bring everything out into the light.

“All right, Jarrod, I want to know…..why weren’t you worried about me?”

Part Eleven

The relief and gratitude that Jarrod felt at Heath’s willingness to hear him out was so overwhelming that for a moment, words failed him. He had counted on his brother’s courage and sense of fairness, and Heath hadn’t let him down. It was time now to put the Kyles case behind them both, for once and for all. Without fear, Jarrod began the most important summation of his life.

“Heath, after I made my decision to defend Korby Kyles, I decided to look into his allegations that Colonel Ashby was involved in the drug trade. I contacted the authorities in San Francisco, who in turn arranged for me to meet Asa Harmon. To my amazement, Agent Harmon backed not only Korby’s statement that he was in the employ of Colonel Ashby, but he was also able to substantiate his claim that the Colonel had built his fortune through his involvement in the drug trade. Still, that didn’t prove that Korby hadn’t killed the Colonel, but by then I was convinced of his innocence. That meant that I had to discredit your testimony about seeing him in the alley that night. But how was I to do that? I knew that you were absolutely convinced you had seen him, so I decided to go to the scene of the crime to see firsthand for myself where the deed had been done, hoping that that would give me a clue as to where to begin. It happened that while I was there, I needed to write down measurements….it was then that I discovered that there was little light to see by, and realized that I could use that in my defense of Korby.”

Heath regarded him with confusion. “You’re not tellin’ me anythin’ that didn’t come out during the trial or that I haven’t already figured out, Jarrod.” He frowned at his older brother. “So what’s your point?”

“Just this, Heath……I realized that I didn’t need to convince you of Korby’s innocence, I only had to instill doubt in your mind about what you had seen. That way, I could also instill doubt in the jury. And I knew I could do that, Heath...because I knew of your capacity for self-doubt.” There, it was out. “If you doubted yourself and what you had seen, I knew that I could get you to change your testimony and influence the jury.” Jarrod bowed his head in remorse. “For that, Heath, I am truly sorry. I took unfair advantage of you in that regard.” He waited, wondering how his half-brother would react to his confession and apology.

For a moment, there was silence and then Heath laughed softly, causing Jarrod’s head to snap up. “Boy howdy, Jarrod…….you think you have it all figured out, don’t you? Do you really think that the reason I changed my testimony on the stand was because you made me doubt myself?”

Jarrod gazed at him steadily. "Yes, Heath, I do." He paused for effect and then added, "And I think you know it, too." He thought back to the look on Heath’s face as the judge had dismissed him from the witness box.

Heath laughed again and then grew sober, studying Jarrod's expression. Jarrod looked less sure as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Heath took pity on his brother then. "I'll admit, Counselor, that you had me goin' there on the stand, but that's not the reason that I changed my testimony. You don't know me as well as you think, Jarrod" ..at least not yet.

Jarrod was honestly confused. “If that’s not the reason, then why did you change your testimony, Heath?”

Heath shrugged his shoulders. “Because, Jarrod, before I condemn a man to death, I have to be one hundred percent sure that I believe he’s guilty, not seventy five percent or even ninety percent. Remember that ‘shadow of possible doubt’ regardin' Korby’s innocence you talked about? There may not have been any shadows that night, but you created that ‘shadow of doubt’ in me, this afternoon.” Heath stood up then and extended his hand to Jarrod.

“So, Jarrod, now that we’ve put that behind us, I say it’s time we get back to the house and to our beds, otherwise, we’re likely to run into Silas and HIS wooden spoon!”

Jarrod chuckled then and reached for Heath’s hand, allowing the cowboy to pull him to his feet. He felt lightheaded again, but this time it was from relief, and he didn’t mind it a bit. He felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He rested his hand on Heath's shoulder and squeezed it, this time in gratitude. “Agreed, Brother Heath.” The brothers turned towards the house, but a soft voice coming from behind them stopped both men in their tracks.

“You better not forget to bring in the blanket Audra made for you, Heath. She’ll have your hide if she finds it lying out here in the dirt.”

* * * * * * * *

At the sound of the voice Heath had whirled, drawing his gun in one smooth motion while simultaneously stepping in front of his oldest brother to shield him. As his brother Nick emerged from the darkness of the corral, he eased his finger back from the trigger and returned his gun to its holster. Fixing Nick with an angry glare, Heath opened his mouth to berate him, but Jarrod beat him to it.

“Damnit, Nick, you know better than to sneak up on us like that!” Jarrod's voice was sharp and laced with anger.

The firstborn moved away from Heath and advanced on Nick, swinging his hand up at the last to jab him in the chest. “What were you trying to do, get yourself killed?? Put the gun away, now! And why aren’t you asleep?!”

Nick scowled at his older brother as he returned his own gun to his holster. It was then that Heath noticed that Nick was only half dressed, wearing the top of his night clothes over his pants and gun belt. He couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the picture his other brother presented.

“Nick, if Sallyanne Thornton could see you right now, why I do believe that she’d throw herself at you.” Heath grinned at the bigger man and turned towards Jarrod. “Wouldn’t you agree, Counselor?” But his oldest brother ignored him, focusing his attention on their rancher-brother instead.

“Let’s have it, Nick! I want to hear an explanation for why you’re out here sneaking around…and it better be good!”

Nick threw a disgusted look at Jarrod. “First of all, I wasn’t sneaking around…I came out here to see who was out here. I was asleep but the sound of voices woke me up, so I thought I’d investigate, what with the Kyles threat and all.” Nick looked at both Heath and Jarrod accusingly then. “And what do I find? The two of you sitting out here gossiping like two old biddies at a church social, the Kyles be damned! And you have the nerve to ask me what I’M doing out here!” Nick drew himself up and crossed his arms, the very picture of righteous indignation. “So, Pappy, I’m ready to hear YOUR explanation of what’s going on here….and YOU better make it good!”

Jarrod opened his mouth to respond but this time Heath beat him to it. “Why, Nick, would you believe that Jarrod and I both heard somethin' out here, and came to check it out too." He turned to Jarrod and winked at him in the dark, knowing that Nick would miss it but Jarrod wouldn’t. “Isn’t that so, Counselor?”

“Why, yes, indeed, Brother Heath.” Jarrod kept his reply brief, and turned back to Nick, not saying anything further, curious what the cowboy was up to.

Nick looked at him suspiciously, and then at Jarrod, standing there in his nightclothes. “Is that a fact?" There was no mistaking the challenge in his voice. "Well, if that’s the case, then where’s his gun?” He pointed to Jarrod’s side, where the missing gun should have rested against his thigh.

Heath didn’t miss a beat. “Why, Nick,” he drawled, “you know as well as I do that Jarrod’s best weapon is his voice. Why, he could talk the fleas off of a dog at two hundred feet and still have enough words left over to sweet talk the Kyles into goin’ to the jailhouse to turn themselves in.”

At Jarrod’s stunned look, Nick broke out into laughter. He slapped Heath on the arm and watched in relief as both Heath and Jarrod dissolved into laughter. While he wasn’t sure of what had transpired between his older and younger brother tonight, he recognized a Heath gambit when he saw one. Jarrod had just been neatly trapped by his brother’s wit.

He knew he still had to answer to Heath, for sharing their conversation with Jarrod. But his brother hadn’t made him promise not to and he knew that it was the only way to get them talking, REALLY talking between themselves. Sometimes Jarrod had a tendency to hide his true feelings with words, building walls that were difficult to break through. Heath on the other hand, used fewer words but towards the same end…to keep his feelings hidden. He wondered if they even realized how much they were alike.

The look of worry that Jarrod had worn all week was gone, and Heath’s easy banter was back; it was a good sign that all was right between them, Nick thought to himself. It was time for all three brothers to put the events of this week behind them. And he knew just how to do it. He turned in the direction of the mansion and spoke back to them over his shoulder.

“Jarrod, when was the last time we went up to Brown’s Lake?”

“It’s been a long time, Brother Nick….over a year at least. Why?”

“Well, I ran into Sam Jones in town this week, and he told me that he went fishing there last weekend. Seems that the fish were biting good.” Nick looked back at the men behind him.

“It occurs to me that we’ve all had us a week, and that Heath has never been there. What if we take a few days off and all of us go up there to fish? After we get some sleep of course!" He yawned deeply, stretching his arms wide.

Jarrod and Heath looked at each other, knowing exactly what the other was thinking. In unison, they turned towards Nick and spoke as one. “But this is a working ranch!!”

Nick sighed in surrender, knowing his words would always come back to haunt him as long as these two were around. Which he hoped would be for a long time.

“Yeah, well, today is Saturday, which gives us two days…and besides, we’re in charge here….we can do as we damn well please! So what do you say?!”

Heath and Jarrod looked at each other and a silent agreement passed between them. The blond reached down to the ground and picked up the blanket, draping it over his right arm. Then he slipped his other arm behind Jarrod’s back and they moved forward to stand beside Nick. Later on, Nick would realize that he didn't remember who answered him, but it wouldn't matter.

“We’re with you, Brother…lead on.”

THE END