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.
The tall, thin man stood before the pearly
gates, gazing upwards at the massive structures that promised Paradise and
happiness beyond. Through the exquisitely shaped bars of the gate, he could see
a golden road gleaming in the heavenly light stretching onwards through rolling
green hills to a magnificent city.
Heaven, he thought
to himself, that’s where I am…but how do I get in? Looking around, he spotted a massive desk, made out of what
looked to be white marble. On the other side of the desk sat a smaller figure
that resembled an old man with a halo around his head. In one hand he held a
roll of paper and in the other a quill pen that he dipped into a golden inkwell
from time to time.
St. Peter, that’s Saint Peter! The man thought excitedly. He’ll be
able to tell me how to enter! With awe, he
approached the desk.
“Excuse me, but are you Saint Peter?”
Saint Peter looked up from his work and
smiled gently at him. “Why, yes, I am…did you just get here, friend?”
The older man eagerly nodded at Saint Peter
and smiled back. “Yes sir, Saint Peter, and I have to tell you, I’m mighty glad
to be here.” He stuck his hand out to the saint, who shook it without
hesitation.
“And what’s your name, sir?” Saint Peter
picked his quill pen up from the desk where he had laid it down moments before,
and prepared to enter the man’s name on his list.
“My name is Sam, St. Peter…Samuel Morris.”
Saint Peter dutifully wrote it down. He then
dipped his pen in the golden bottle to replenish the ink, and held his hand
over the paper roll, ready to finish his entry so he could send the soul before
him on his way. “And where are you from, Sam?”
Sam answered proudly, “Stockton, Saint
Peter.” He watched the saint’s hand as it descended towards the gossamer thin
parchment, only to see it stop in mid air.
“Stockton? Stockton California?”
Sam was puzzled by the saint’s behavior.
“Why, yes, yes, Saint Peter.”
“You’re sure it’s not Stockton, Ohio…or
Stockton, Oregon?”
Sam shook his head vigorously. Now was not
the time to lie and why should he? “No, sir, I’m from Stockton, California.”
Saint Peter eyed him hesitantly, and then
continued to write his information down. Just as he finished, he asked
casually, “And I don’t suppose you’re acquainted with a family down there
called the Barkleys?”
Sam thought back. It seemed to him that the
Barkley family had been on his mind the moment he had found himself facing the
pearly gates. What was it about the Barkleys that was important to tell Saint
Peter? Sam wracked his brain, trying to remember his last moments on Earth.
He remembered that he had stayed late at
work at the shipping office because the Barkleys were expecting a receipt for
some gold they had shipped. While he was preparing the receipt, two men had
entered the office with the intention of robbing it and had knocked out the
Barkleys' ranch hand. But before they could carry out their plans, they had
been interrupted. Sam thought some more, and then he had it!
He turned to address Saint Peter excitedly.
“I know the Barkleys very well, Saint Peter…in fact I was with Jarrod Barkley
just before I found myself…..here.” He scanned his immediate surroundings to
see if the lawyer had preceded him, but Jarrod Barkley was nowhere in sight.
“Jarrod, hmmm?” Saint Peter scratched the
side of his head with his pen. “He’s the lawyer, right?”
“Yes, Saint Peter….” A horrible thought
occurred to Sam about why Jarrod Barkley hadn’t shown up with him at the pearly
gates. “Um, they do let lawyers into Heaven, right?”
“Oh yes, Sam!” Saint Peter hastened to
reassure the man before him. “Why, lawyers scare the Hell out of more folks
than even pastors. You can rest easy….it just wasn’t his Time yet. When it is,
I can assure you that he will be well received.” He paused before asking his
next question; above all, The Lord was a stickler for details. “And you’re sure
that it wasn’t Nicholas or Heath Barkley you were dealing with before you
arrived here?”
“No, sir, Saint Peter.”
Saint Peter leaned back on his cloud. “Okay,
Sam, I believe you. Just one moment please.” The saint reached over to pick up
another roll of parchment that lay on the right side of the marble desk, a roll
that Sam had missed seeing before. He rolled
it out a little and began to write Sam’s name on this as well.
Sam was puzzled and a little bit concerned.
Why would St. Peter write his name down on another roll, one that clearly
wasn’t the main list? A horrible thought occurred to him.
“Saint Peter, that’s not the list for folks
going to…..you know.” Sam didn’t know if he could say the word ‘Hell’ in
Heaven, even though the saint just had.
Saint Peter saw his confusion and spoke to
reassure him once more.
“Oh, no, Sam, that’s not the list for souls
going to Hades…..that’s the list of folks named ‘Sam’ that the Barkleys are
going to be accountable for when they finally show up here.” He flattened out
the roll near the top and began to read from it.
“Sam Williams, shot while fighting rustlers
for Nick Barkley……Sam Belden, shot while being taught how to read by Victoria
Barkley…….” He showed the parchment to
Sam.
“See how the list goes on and on? Why, all of you men might as well have been
wearing red shirts!”
“Red shirts?” Now Sam was completely
confused. What did wearing a red shirt have to do with being acquainted with
the Barkleys?
Saint Peter put the roll of parchment back
down on the surface of the desk and smiled gently at him. “Never mind, Sam…it’s
just a little joke that we have around here. You’ll understand it soon enough.”
He pointed towards the pearly gates which slowly started to open. “Just head on
through and you’ll find yourself in good company.”
Saint Peter watched as the tall man with the
kindly face entered through the gate and was immediately surrounded by a large
number of other departed souls dressed in western garb, some old some young,
but all with one thing in common…..their first name. Yep, he thought to himself, the Barkleys certainly have a lot to answer for!