Coming to Terms, Part 5

40 Rifles and Boots

by doreliz

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 Third Week

The cattle drive was to start early on Thursday morning, a little over two weeks since Heath’s arrival. Forty-three men were setting out with a chuckwagon, a buckboard, sixty-five horses, and about three thousand head of cattle, on a twenty-four day drive through the little-populated foothills, five hundred and fifty miles to San Diego and the best prices to be found anywhere. Nearly a third of the cattle and six of the men were from other ranches, that had joined in a venture they could not have undertaken on their own.

Wednesday afternoon Victoria was busy with Silas and Wang Ma, who cooked for the hands, packing the chuckwagon with enough supplies to make them independent of towns on the trip south. She insisted that Audra help out and learn the essentials, recalling how she herself had learned the art the hard way on the wagon journey from the East in 1843. “We had nothing then but what we carried, and the game the men brought in – though there was more game in those days, the buffalo are scarce on the plains now, but back then there were so many – ”

Audra said, “I remember Father talking about them – what a sight they were, and the hunters riding them down. There’s nothing like that in California. It must have been so exciting!”

Victoria noted that Audra was once again speaking normally of her father. Just as well. With all the men gone, she would have time to brood, if she were still thinking dark thoughts. Victoria wanted her daughter to live in sunshine as long as she could.

When they finished they took a few minutes to watch the cattle belonging to one of the neighbors run into the pasture where their own were already collected. Another herd was coming along the trail from the north.

“It looks as if we may have guests for dinner,” Victoria observed. “Silas, Audra, we’d better get into the kitchen. – Wang Ma, I wish you good luck for the journey.”

Wang Ma bowed to her and said something incomprehensible.

Some time later, hearing an unusual commotion in the yard, Audra looked out the kitchen window. “My goodness, what is – Mother, there’s a fire!”

“Where?” Victoria joined her at the window, already untying her apron in case she would be needed.

“The cookhouse – see, the men are throwing water inside! Oh, I think they’re getting it out – the smoke is dying away. There’s Nick.”

Victoria assessed what she could see and retied her apron. “Under control. It’s fortunate it’s such a new building, the wood is still green. Stay inside, Audra. It’s time we both dressed for the evening.”

“I wonder how it started?”

“We’ll find out later, dear. Silas, are you all right for a while? Come upstairs, Audra.” Her first idea about the fire was that some kind of fight had broken out between their own men and some of the visitors, her second that Heath might be involved. Either way, she did not want Audra in the middle of it.

Jarrod had come home early enough to meet the neighbors as they arrived, with the object of smoothing over any disagreements that might come up. He tapped on his mother’s door as she was dressing. “May I speak to you for a minute, dear lady?”

She covered herself with a shawl and invited him in. “What is it? There was a fire – how did it start?”

His face was grim. “I think it started some time ago – let’s say, two weeks.”

“Heath?”

“I think we’ve both known things weren’t going well between Heath and the hands, though neither he nor Nick would say so. It seems to have been worse than we thought. – You know Wilf Barrett.”

“A big man – ex-soldier – from Georgia. Yes.”

“It seems Barrett refused to follow one of Heath’s orders, earlier today, and Heath fired him. – Nick did tell you he authorized Heath to hire and fire?”

“Yes.” It had seemed a necessary step, a few days ago.

“Well, Nick hired Barrett back again.”

“That was a mistake.”

“I told him so. He says he needs every man for this drive, and he told Heath to handle it another way. Apparently Heath chose to handle it by fighting Barrett in the cookhouse, and in the process a fire started. No great damage was done, I believe, but we’ll have to have a carpenter for a day or two while the men are away.”

“Who won the fight?” She knew Barrett was a powerfully built man, a few years older than Heath and no doubt experienced in combat of all sorts.

“Heath staggered out on his own feet, just before we noticed the fire – he’s a little battered, but he’ll be fine. Barrett was knocked out, and might’ve been in some danger – none of the men cared to go in after him – but a stranger came to his rescue, at some risk to himself. Then it turned out the stranger is General Wallent – who’s a hero in Nick’s eyes. You’ll meet him at dinner.”

“Thanks for the warning. Is there anything else?” She was reconsidering what she had planned to wear.

“Wallent told Nick one of the watering holes he’d planned on using is likely dry at this time of year. Nick’s poring over the map looking for another way to go.”

“My, my. It sounds as if this General Wallent is a man to be reckoned with.”

Victoria greeted Wallent with her most gracious manner, entertained him at dinner along with two of the neighbors, and was impressed by his charm. It was not a surprise when Nick invited him to join the crew of the cattle drive. It became clear to her that that Heath was uneasy about the General and inclined to suspect his advice, so that she began to feel uneasy herself – but it was plain that Nick thought the General could do no wrong. She remembered that her first impression of Heath had been that he was suspicious by nature, and his meeting with the General had certainly been in unfortunate circumstances. Perhaps Nick was right, and there was nothing to worry about. But she was beginning to see that Heath had sharper instincts about people and motives than Nick, raised in privilege, could ever have.

It was not for her to decide. She warned Heath to be careful, she reminded Nick that she trusted his judgment. She went out early the next morning to watch them get underway, and prayed that she would see both of them return safely – her own loud and hasty son, and this moody adopted son who was finding his way into her heart.

Jarrod left for San Francisco on Friday, expecting to be back within two weeks, and on Sunday Gene went back to Berkeley for his two months course, leaving the two women with Silas and a few aging hands to run the ranch. They had enough to do, especially since this was a rare opportunity to give the house a thorough cleaning without the men underfoot. Victoria tired herself out every day, between housecleaning and managing the ranch, while Audra stole all the time she could from the house to spend with the horses she was training. They talked sometimes about the anxieties they shared, but more often they tried to help each other forget.

The Fourth Week

San Francisco

Jarrod was a member of the best gentleman’s club in San Francisco, and usually stayed there when he was in the city, since it was comfortable, convenient, and required no upkeep when he was away. He also had a large circle of friends of both sexes, some of whom were generous with invitations. Among them were several women he would not have wanted his mother or his sister to meet, or even hear of.

After a week’s concentration on work, he had looked forward to spending his weekend in the city with a longtime friend and occasional lover called Ruby Black, a woman of independent means, about his own age, whom he would have described as well able to take care of herself and not given to noble gestures, but very good company under the right circumstances. Circumstances did not seem to be right, however, for he found himself not enjoying her company much, and thinking more than he liked about his father and Heath. No, that would not happen here, but all the same he did not enjoy his Friday evening, or take away good memories from the night that followed.

Ruby was not soft-hearted, but she was intelligent and perceptive. “You’ve got something on your mind,” she told him Saturday morning while she lay in her bed watching him dress.

“Family business,” he said curtly. “Nothing to do with you.”

“Ah! Jarrod, darling, I used to think we could meet like this and still respect each other, but I’m beginning to think I was wrong.”

He did not turn to look at her. “Ruby, you are a jewel in your own way. It doesn’t happen to be the way I want at present.”

“Because you’ve found out your father had a bastard son?”

That made him turn. “How did you know about that?”

“News travels. I heard you went all around Stockton telling people about it. But you didn’t say a word to me.”

“In Stockton it was necessary. Not here.”

“Was it necessary to take him in at all?”

“Yes.” He did not try to explain.

“So now what? Are you going to turn over a new leaf? – You’d better find yourself a wife.”

He shrugged.

“We’re promised for the recital this afternoon, and dinner with Nat and Magda – or are you going to leave me flat?”

He smiled gamely. “I’m yours for the day, whenever you’re ready. But I think I’ll go back to the club tonight.”

“Yes, I think that would be wise.”

The Ranch

Late Saturday afternoon, with the house in gleaming order at last, Victoria and Audra were cleaning themselves up when a boy from town came knocking on the front door. When Silas answered, the boy looked disappointed.

“Got a telegram for Mrs. Barkley. Mr. Hanson, he said I should give it to her personal, and she’d give me somethin’ for my trip.”

Silas knew that when telegrams were delivered out here ten miles from town, they generally brought bad news. “I tells her,” he said, and closed the door, leaving the boy to wait hopefully on the verandah.

Victoria had just got into a hot bath when Silas came upstairs and called her name. “Yes, Silas, what is it?” she called through the closed door.

“Miz Barkley, they’s a boy outside, got a telegram for you personal.”

Horrible possibilities flashed through her mind, but she knew what to do. “Silas, give him a dollar and ask him to wait in case there’s an answer. Bring it here, and give the boy a cold drink – oh, and make sure he waters his horse.”

Audra’s voice in her own room said she could be ready in five minutes. Silas went downstairs, and Victoria gave up the idea of a soak in favor of a quick scrub. She was out of the tub and toweling herself dry when she heard Audra outside the door thanking Silas for the telegram. Hastily she pulled on her dressing gown and opened the door. “Open it, dear, my hands are still damp.”

Audra unfolded the paper and read aloud, “‘NICK BARKLEY SHOT IN LEG COME SOONEST READY FOR NURSING DR JONES BAKERSFIELD’ – Oh, Mother! It sounds bad!”

Victoria closed her eyes for an instant. Nick shot. In his leg – that could be deadly if it became infected, as it likely would, and even if he survived that, he might be crippled – Nick, who was never happy sitting still. In Bakersfield. She had taken a train on that line, a year or so back, and Jarrod had done so lately, so she knew what the journey would be like.

“Audra, write telegrams to Jarrod and Eugene. Tell them Nick’s hurt, I’m going to Bakersfield on the night train, I’ll wire them when I find out more. And one to that doctor, say I’m coming. Ask the boy to tell them at the depot. – Can you take charge here for a few days, or should we ask one of the boys to come home right away?”

Audra looked scared for a moment, but then she lifted her chin bravely. “Yes, I can take charge. I’ll give the telegrams to the boy, then, and send him back to town.” She went running down the stairs.

“Silas, you know it’s you I trust to keep the house running smoothly, make sure she eats. – Now, I’ll need a fresh horse and a driver – Ciego – to take me to town in time for the 7:30 to Lathrop – I think there’s a train south from there around midnight. We’d better leave here as soon as possible – not more than half an hour. I’ll dress and pack. Get Sam Williams, I want to speak to him before I go.”

Old Sam Williams was waiting downstairs, hat in hand, when she came down carrying her coat and a bulging valise. “Sam, thank you for coming in. Did Silas tell you – ?”

“Nick’s hurt, he says. Bad?”

“I don’t know how bad it is, but I have to go. I’ve told Audra she’s in charge, but I count on you, Sam, to make sure the work gets done outside.”

“You can count on me, Mrs. Barkley.”

Audra came from the kitchen with a package in a string bag. “Silas made you something for the train.”

“Tell him thank you. I’ll wire you, as soon as I know anything more. You know how tough Nick is, he might be out of bed by the time I get there.” Neither of them believed that.

“Do you have enough money? I have twenty dollars – take it in case.”

“Oh, good. I’m a bit short, so your twenty will help. You’d better get more from the bank Monday.”

“Mother, what about Heath? Where’s he?”

“With the cattle, I suppose. They weren’t planning to go very near Bakersfield, they would have put Nick in the buckboard and sent him in. We’ll just have to rely on Heath and Mr. McColl to look after the drive – we can’t send them any help.”

“It’s Nick we have to think of now.”

“Here’s Ciego. Goodbye, dear. Be careful.”

“Don’t worry about me, Mother. Goodbye.” They hugged and parted, each hiding her fears from the other.

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[Note: I found information about train schedules (which may or may not be correct for 1876) at http://cprr.org/Museum/Schedule_1882.html and at http://www.americahurrah.com/PRR/California2.htm for Stockton-San Francisco trains (on the Central Pacific line), and at http://www.library.arizona.edu/branches/spc/pams/pdfs/sp1889.pdf for San Francisco-Bakersfield trains (on the Southern Pacific). If both schedules were valid at the same time, and if I’m reading them right, it looks as if there would be a connection at Lathrop such as I’ve described here.]

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Lathrop

Victoria would have missed the train if Mr. Hanson had not only had her ticket all made out in advance, but even held the train five minutes past its scheduled departure. This first leg of her journey was only long enough to catch her breath and force herself to eat one of the sandwiches Silas had made her. After that came a long wait at the station in Lathrop before the southbound train was due at one in the morning.

The Ladies’ Waiting Room was a cold and comfortless place with hard benches, only somewhat cleaner and better-smelling than the general waiting room next door, but tonight it was at least private. She sat huddled in her coat, leaning against her valise, worrying.

Would Audra be all right alone at home, with only those old men to guide her? Would Eugene feel obliged to abandon the course he had wanted so badly? Would Jarrod have to drop an important case to come to the rescue? Would Heath succeed in getting the cattle to San Diego on schedule? Would the hands obey him? If things went wrong, what would they do? Would Heath ever feel like one of the family?

Would Nick be all right?

She had forgotten to pack her slippers. Would she be able to buy a pair in Bakersfield? Would she be able to stay at the doctor’s house, or would she have to go to a hotel? Was the doctor married? Would anyone be able to tell her how Nick came to be shot? Was Dr. Jones a good doctor?

Would Nick be all right?

How long would she have to nurse him? Would he let her do everything that would have to be done? Would there be anyone to share in the nursing? Would she be strong enough to keep on, day after day, perhaps for weeks? What if she became ill herself?

Would Nick be all right?

If Nick recovered quickly, would he want to try to rejoin the cattle drive? If he were to be laid up for a long time, how would she get him home and what would he be like around the house? If he could never walk right again, what would that do to him? If he lost his leg, would he ever again find any joy in life? If he died – no, she could not think about that.

Would Audra be all right alone at home?

After a long time, there were voices and activity outside. She went out to the platform as the train’s headlight appeared far away, and watched it approach until the mechanical monster came clanking and hissing to a stop.

The thoughtful Mr. Hanson had arranged a berth for her, which she hoped would let her sleep a few hours. Soon she was lying between the sheets while the train clacked through the darkness. To stop herself from worrying that would only keep her awake, she made herself count her blessings. Tonight, there could be no doubt that the train was a blessing, for all its inconveniences. Only a few years ago a journey of over three hundred miles would have meant two days on a jolting stagecoach, but now she would ride there overnight, lying warm in bed, and so smoothly….

San Francisco

It was nearly ten when Jarrod reached his club, feeling weary and disenchanted. The first person he saw was his youngest brother, pacing the lobby.

“Gene! What are you doing here?”

“Where have you been? I was almost ready to give you up for the night.”

“Has something happened?”

“There should be a telegram waiting for you.”

“Just a minute.” He went to the porter’s lodge to get his key and his mail. Sure enough, there was a telegram.

Gene said, “We should go to your room before you read it.”

They started up the stairs. “I take it you also received a telegram today.” He hoped it had been today.

“About seven. So I came here, like an idiot. I should have caught the train, but by the time I thought of it, it was too late.”

“What train?” The last train to Stockton left Oakland at five, as they both knew quite well.

“Wait.”

In his room, Jarrod lit the lamp with trembling fingers, and opened the telegram.

He read, “RECEIVED WORD NICK SHOT IN LEG AT DR JONES BAKERSFIELD STOP MOTHER TAKING NIGHT TRAIN WILL WIRE NEWS STOP LOVE AUDRA”.

“Is it the same as yours?”

“Word for word. If I’d only thought, I could have caught that train at Oakland and traveled with her – I might be some use. But I only thought of consulting you.”

“She’d probably send you back tomorrow – you know she wouldn’t want you to leave your course on the chance you might be needed. I expect she can take care of Nick – at least, we should assume that until we hear from her. – So did she leave Audra in charge of the ranch? It looks like it.”

“There can’t be much to do, with everyone away.”

“There are still the horses, the breeding herds, the farmland.” Jarrod took a turn around the room. “You’d better stay here tonight – I’ll arrange a room. Do you have any gear? no, I suppose not. Then we’ll think what to do.” He barely waited for agreement before he went back down the stairs to the porter’s lodge. When he returned he tossed a key to Gene.

“You have Room 15 – another floor up. I’ll lend you some gear.” He began looking through his drawers, selecting items. “Mother will get to Bakersfield tomorrow morning sometime, and it’ll take her a while to find out what the situation is and wire us, but we can expect to hear from her by late afternoon at least. Or sooner, if – ”

“If it’s desperate.”

“Yes. – Well, if the doctor sends another wire before Mother gets there, Audra will get it – whenever – and send the news to us. But that could hardly happen in time for us to catch the early train south – though Audra could catch it from home by driving to Lathrop in the morning. I’ve taken that train from here, once, and got off at Lathrop to go home, around noon I think.”

“Me too. But it’s close to three hours, driving from there to the ranch.”

“Last night Mother would’ve caught the train coming here, if she could, and changed trains at Lathrop, rather than driving the whole way late at night. Though it’s a long wait, I think. But there’s no connection at all in the morning. – Here, this should do you. – We should wait for her to wire us, and then proceed accordingly. Stay where she expects us to be – unlike me today.”

“Where were you?”

“With friends. – Do you make a habit of spending Saturday evenings at your boarding house?”

“Well, not a habit, but I happened to be near there at seven this evening – some of us were playing baseball in the quad – so when the telegraph boy came, they hollered for me.”

“You tell anybody where you were going?”

“Mrs. Wilkins – my landlady.”

“Why don’t I go over to Berkeley tomorrow and spend the day with you? I haven’t done that for a couple of years. We’ll get the telegram, and then we’ll see.”

“You don’t think she might tell you something she wouldn’t tell me?”

Jarrod considered. “Possible. Something like ‘Don’t let Eugene do anything foolish’.” They laughed together, and stopped themselves as they remembered the cause. “We can send a telegram to Bakersfield, then, early tomorrow, tell her we’re standing by in Berkeley in case she needs either of us. I’ll take a valise over in case.”

“I s’pose you’ll be busy again Monday, if she doesn’t?”

“I have a court date Monday afternoon, that will likely run over into Tuesday, maybe Wednesday, and then I’ll be free – I could break it, but I’d be failing my obligation to my client. If Mother doesn’t need me by that time, the best thing would be for me to go to the ranch – I don’t like the idea of leaving Audra on her own for long. And you stay here unless you’re sent for, learn all about preventing diseases. A step towards your ambition.”

“My ambition – that won’t amount to much, if Nick – unless Heath – Jarrod, what’s Heath doing? Carrying on with the cattle?”

“I suppose. He can’t just leave them there.”

“How did Nick come to be shot, anyway, I wonder? You don’t suppose Heath shot him?”

“Why would you think that?”

“Well, we don’t really know Heath, do we? He and Nick weren’t getting on too well.”

“We were giving him the benefit of the doubt. I think we still are.”

“If he shot Nick, he could be on his way to Mexico, and McColl trying to get the cattle to market with the crew in an uproar. – What do we stand to lose if they don’t get there?”

“If all three thousand die on the trail, it’ll cost us over thirty thousand dollars – we’d have to pay out to the others who sent theirs with us, besides losing our own. Enough to set us back for two or three years. Better that than lose a good man – cheap, to save Nick, if that were the choice.”

“It isn’t the choice. If you, or I, or both, could go down there and save the cattle, it’d be worth what it’d cost us to do that – but I don’t see that we could.”

“No. By the time we could be there, equipped, it’d take too long just to find them.” Jarrod did not need to dwell on the fact that neither he nor Gene would have the full confidence of the ranchhands. “And it’d be showing we don’t have confidence in Heath – or McColl, for that matter. No, this is where we find out if our gamble on Heath paid off.”

“General Wallent wouldn’t be likely to stick around with Heath in charge.”

“General Wallent was with them because Nick wanted him. I don’t think Heath did – but in, what? nine days on the trail, anything could’ve happened. I wonder if Mother’ll be able to find out what was going on – how Nick got shot. He may not be very lucid – he may not even know.”

They talked on, turning over suppositions and probabilities, until the clock down in the lobby struck midnight.

Stockton

That Sunday morning Audra, feeling how lonely she would be in the dining room, ate breakfast with Silas in the kitchen. “Why should you drive by yourself to your church, and me by myself to mine? We can go together – I’ll be glad of the company.”

“I gotta go mighty soon, Miss Audra.”

“Not so soon if we take Buttermilk. I’ll be ready in a jiffy.”

Half an hour later, Silas was fidgeting at the door. But she came down in due course, and drove Buttermilk fast enough to make up any delay.

“I hope we’ll hear from Mother today – I’m going to go to the telegraph office myself as soon as we get to town, and again before we come home.”

“Mr. Nick, he be all right. You wait and see. Pretty soon, he be wakin’ us up in the night when he want something.”

“I won’t mind. I don’t think I’ll mind a bit!”

As they approached Stockton she had a sudden thought. “Silas, do you come all the way by yourself, usually, or do you give anyone a ride?”

“I mos’ly picks up Car’line at the Wallace place. She can’t walk so good.”

“Oh, yes, I know Car’line. There won’t be room for her and me both, so I’ll get off and stay at the Wallaces’ until church time. You won’t mind driving Buttermilk, will you, now she’s not so fresh?”

“I do the best I can, Miss Audra.”

There were no telegrams waiting, and they went on with slightly easier minds to the Wallace mansion.

Car’line was Sophie Wallace’s cook, a very fat woman who had seen many troubles in her youth. She came out with a picnic basket over her arm and looked astonished to see Audra descending from the carriage.

“Good morning, Car’line. Silas and I came together today. I’ll have a little visit here, if Mrs. Wallace doesn’t mind, and see you this afternoon.”

“Mornin’, Miz Barkley. Miz Wallace, she up and ready fo’ church, so you gwan inside.”

When she went to the door, Audra found the house full of riotous children. It turned out that the Wallaces’ youngest daughter, Minnie Royce, and her seven children had come in early for church and stopped at Grandma’s house. The children knew Audra and clamored for her to play with them, so that it was some time before she had a chance to explain her presence. Remembering that Minnie’s husband Jack was one of those who had sent cattle south with the Barkley drive, she told them what had happened to Nick.

“Dear me!” said Sophie Wallace. “Your mother’s had a lot of trouble lately. I hope she’s still bearing up.”

“I hope so. I think so.”

“Wish there was something we could do to help out,” declared Dave Wallace. “But don’t you worry, my pretty. Nick’s as tough as they come. He’ll come through it fine.”

“He must have got through the night, anyway, or there would’ve been a telegram this morning.”

“Your mother’ll get things under control down there, send you word.”

“I hope so. I don’t mean to leave town until I hear from her.”

Minnie Royce shook her head. “So Heath’s in charge of the cattle, I suppose. I wonder if Jack should go down there to help him out. But I don’t see how he could get away right now.”

“Heath will do all he can, I’m sure.”

After church Audra was invited to lunch by her friend Daisy Stewart and her new husband. Daisy wanted to show off her house and her married state, and had little attention to spare for Audra’s troubles. The time dragged. Had something happened to Silas? he was not used to driving Buttermilk; the mare was high-spirited and might give him difficulty. Or had her message left with the Wallaces gone astray? At three o’clock she began to say she ought to return to the Wallaces’ house, at half-past three she actually left, and met Silas on the street, driving Buttermilk a little nervously but competently enough. Car’line was no longer with him. Yes, Mr. Wallace had told him she was at the Stewarts’, but he wasn’t quite sure where they lived.

Audra took the reins. “Let’s see if there’s a telegram yet!”

Bakersfield

Victoria slept enough to feel refreshed and ready when the train came into Bakersfield at midmorning. It was a newer place than Stockton, still very raw. The station hotel stood between two saloons. There was a telegram waiting for her: “WITH EUGENE AT BERKELEY TODAY STANDING BY WILL COME IF NEEDED JARROD”.

Dr. Jones’s office, when she reached it, was in a new, unpainted, building at the far end of the main street, the end a wagon coming from the foothills would reach first. The doctor himself was a surprisingly young man with dark shadows under his eyes.

“I’m glad to see you, Mrs. Barkley. Your son’s in the back bedroom. I must warn you, he isn’t quite himself right now.”

“How is his leg?”

“Dr. Nugent came in yesterday, after I sent the telegram, and between us we got the bullet out – it was touching the bone. There’s some infection, some fever, but I hope for the best – I think there’s a very good chance he will recover completely, if we can keep him still for a few weeks.”

“Thank God! – Yes, keeping him still is always a challenge. – Doctor, you look exhausted.”

“That’s one reason I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been up all night with your son, and I must get some rest.”

“Of course. Just show me where things are, what I should do.”

Nick was in a fevered sleep, unshaven, his right leg heavily bandaged, but she was inclined to agree with the doctor’s hopes for his recovery. There was medication ready on the table, and Dr. Jones instructed her in the dosages, making her repeat the instructions back to be sure she had them straight, as Dr. Merar would never have done.

He offered her a bed in a sparsely furnished upstairs guest room. He was a bachelor, not long our of medical school in the East. His practice was not very large yet, he explained, but he had office hours from two to four Sunday afternoon, and some people might come into the room next to Nick’s to be examined. Later he would have a few house calls to make.

“Then you have about three hours to rest, Doctor. I advise you to get to it.”

By the time he came back, looking a little less tired, she had made lunch from what she found in the kitchen. No, he told her, he had not found out how Nick came to be shot. The cowboy who had driven the buckboard to his door very early Saturday morning had only stopped to leave his boss’s name and address and to be sure he was in good hands.

When no one turned up immediately for Dr. Jones’s office hours, Victoria took the opportunity to walk back to the station and send telegrams. On the way, she stopped at the sheriff’s office and found a grizzled man with his feet on the desk, reading a newspaper.

“Good afternoon. Are you the sheriff?”

“No, ma’am, sheriff’s out o’ town. Deputy Patterson, ma’am, at your service.”

“Mr. Patterson, I’m Mrs. Barkley from Stockton. My son Nick Barkley was shot, somewhere to the east of here, the night before last. He’s at Dr. Jones’s now, but he hasn’t been able to tell us what happened. I hoped you might have some information.”

“Heard about it – they was a cowboy with a wagon stopped by, yesterday mornin’ – ‘spect he was the one brung your son into town – said there’s a big cattle drive goin’ through the hills, the boss was shot from ambush, and the man that done it was shot dead. Sheriff Cooper, he headed out to investigate, and he ain’t come back – said somethin’ ‘bout lookin’ into another matter while he’s out that way, so he might be gone a week or more.”

“I see. I’m glad the sheriff is investigating. I’ll be at Dr. Jones’s for some days, until my son’s well enough to go home. Will you ask the sheriff to come to see me if he comes back before I leave? Or I’ll stop in again.”

That was something to go on, at least. A shooting from ambush, the shooter now dead. Very suspicious circumstances, but she did not know where to direct her suspicions.

It was nearly three when she reached the telegraph office. She printed neatly on the form, “NICK FEVERED BUT IN LITTLE DANGER STOP BULLET OUT DR JONES HOPEFUL STOP DO NOT NEED HELP STOP SHERIFF GONE TO INVESTIGATE SHOOTING FROM AMBUSH STOP SHOOTER SHOT DEAD LOVE MOTHER”.

Berkeley

“Thank God!” said Jarrod and Gene to each other. They wired back immediately, “GLAD NEWS ASK WHEN HELP NEEDED STOP OTHERWISE JARROD HOME FROM WEDNESDAY”.

Stockton

“Oh, that’s such a relief!” Audra declared to Silas, starting home. After half a mile she turned back to send an answer. “NICK IS TOUGH STOP EVERYTHING FINE HERE LOVE AUDRA”.

The Fifth Week

Bakersfield

Victoria sat in a rocking chair in Nick’s room, trying to concentrate her mind on the book she had selected from Dr. Jones’s small library. It was a heavy tome on the treatment of wounds and injuries, thick with technical terms she did not know, but she hoped that if she concentrated she might glean something that would be useful someday in treating one of her sons.

It was three o’clock Tuesday morning. Nick had still not awakened.

He had roused three or four times, so feverish and agitated Dr. Jones had had to give him laudanum to keep him quiet. Victoria wondered if she should after all have asked Jarrod or Eugene to come; up to a point she could control Nick by voice or touch, but if he was beyond that, she certainly could not control him by physical strength. Nor, she thought, could the young doctor. – But then, it was unlikely that Jarrod or Eugene could either. Heath could, perhaps, but he was out of reach. – Tom could have, in his prime.

She closed the book and thought about Tom. Since Heath’s arrival, she had thought about her husband often, reconsidering things that had happened between them, trying to connect the man she remembered with the man who had been Heath’s father – the man who had apparently betrayed, deceived, and abandoned an unprotected young woman. She could not quite make the connection.

Tonight, in this sickroom far from home, she found herself remembering the tremendous physical strength and vitality he had always enjoyed – at least equal to Nick’s who lay here helpless and dangerous. When Tom had died, in his late fifties, advancing years were beginning to slow him down, he wasn’t bouncing back as fast from injuries, but he was still strong and active. If he hadn’t been killed, by this time he would have been well into his sixties, and feeling his years. He would have hated being old and useless, she thought, and she would have hated seeing him suffer the diminutions of age. But if cutting off her right hand would have brought him back alive, she would not have hesitated.

Not even on Heath’s account. Especially not on Heath’s account.

There were explanations she wanted.

She missed him so much.

After a while a small sound caught her attention. Nick moving his arm. Going closer, she saw his eyes were open and he appeared lucid. At least he was not thrashing about as he had before.

“Don’t try to talk, dear. Would you like some water?”

He drank a little, and then more. “Ma,” he said, accepting her presence.

She laid her hand on his forehead. “I think your fever has gone – very good! There’s some beef broth keeping warm, dear. If I prop you up, do you think you could swallow a little?”

“Hungry.”

“No doubt you’re thinking of something more solid, but broth is all you can have right now.” For three days he had consumed only what could be dribbled into his mouth. He made a weak attempt to raise himself while she put pillows behind him. “No, save your strength, I can manage.”

He looked down at himself in the lamplight. “My leg.”

“The doctors took a bullet out of your leg. There’s quite a bit of damage to the muscles, but it should be fine in a few weeks, if you keep from straining it. – Now, I’m going to feed you as if you were a baby. Open wide.”

After half a cup of the broth he refused to take any more, and soon fell asleep again.

He woke again, clearer-headed, at mid-morning when Dr. Jones was sitting with him. “Where am I, and who the hell are you?”

“I’m Dr. Jones, Mr. Barkley, and you’re in my house in Bakersfield.”

“Bakersfield. – I remember. The cattle drive – somebody shot me.”

“So I was told.” The doctor offered him water and broth, and when he took that well, gave him some bread to sop up the last of the broth. “That’s good. You’ll be able to sit up for a while tomorrow.”

“I want to sit up today.”

“Tomorrow.”

“What day is it, anyway?”

“Tuesday. You were shot Friday evening.”

“Davy Pratt was drivin’ the buckboard, bringin’ me into town. I remember that, but I don’t remember gettin’ here.”

“No, you were hardly conscious when you got here – propped up in the wagon, when you should have been lying down in the back.”

“Didn’t have a mattress to lie on. You ever ride lyin’ in a wagon over rough ground, doc?”

The doctor did not answer that, but began preparations to inspect and redress the wound. “This is going to hurt. Can you keep still for me, Mr. Barkley, or shall I fetch your mother?”

“Mother? – Seems to me my mother was here before.”

“That’s right. She’s asleep upstairs after being up all night. I’d rather wake her now than have you wake her up by screeching.”

“I won’t screech.” He did not, but his lower lip was bloody where he had bitten on it.

Victoria came downstairs about three to find her son awake and full of questions the doctor could not answer. “How’d you get here? Who’s lookin’ after the ranch?”

“I came on the train Saturday night. Audra’s looking after the ranch today, but Jarrod is supposed to be there by tomorrow.”

“Fine mess they’ll make of everything, between them. – Any word from the cattle drive?”

“No. Should there be?”

“Left Heath in charge. Had to – Wallent don’t know cattle, McColl – I couldn’t put McColl over Heath. – Dunno how Heath’ll get along with Wallent. – I oughta go back there.”

“I won’t let you.” They stared at each other for a moment; Victoria won. “Can you tell me any more about how you came to be shot?”

“I was just dismountin’, at the end of the day – ready for supper. Bullet came from up on the hill, in the brush – if I hadn’t been liftin’ my leg, it could’ve hit something worse. Heath and Wallent and some others went after him – came back and said he was dead, he fell down the hill and then Wallent killed him – he had a knife, could’ve used it on Heath.”

“I see.”

Later she went to the telegraph office, and sent to Audra and Gene, “NICK CONSCIOUS FEVER GONE STILL VERY WEAK NO HELP NEEDED”. Her telegram to Jarrod began with the same assurances but added, “PLEASE INVESTIGATE WALLENT”.

Stockton

When Jarrod and Audra called at the telegraph office after church the next Sunday, they found another telegram. “NICK FIT FOR TRAVEL NEED JARROD TO ASSIST LOVE MOTHER”.

“I knew it,” said Jarrod. “Not even Mother wants to make that trip alone with a lame man twice her size. I see myself handling the luggage and conducting Nick up and down the train.”

“When will you go?”

He considered, consulting the timetable posted in the waiting room. “If I take the night train, as Mother did, I’ll get there about ten tomorrow morning. It’ll be a bit of a rush to catch it, but possible. – Then we could take the night train back, which would get us to Lathrop early Tuesday morning, in time to connect with the early train from San Francisco and get here about nine. That would work.”

“All right. I can meet you – I suppose Mother will want Dr. Merar to have a look at Nick before we take him home.”

“Very likely. You’ll warn the good doctor? – I’ll see about getting a ticket, and a berth.”

Presently he sent off a telegram of his own. “WILL ARRIVE BAKERSFIELD MONDAY MORNING TO RETURN ON NIGHT TRAIN LOVE JARROD”.

Bakersfield

Nick greeted Jarrod with complaints. “Why didn’t you come sooner and go out to join the herd? Heath might be havin’ all kinds o’ trouble.”

“I’m sure Heath is doing fine,” Jarrod answered, not quite truthfully. “Glad to see you’re back to your old self. How’s the leg?”

“It hurts. What’d you expect? Doc gave me these crutches, I gotta practice on them before we go to the train.” He crossed the little room with them and returned, three steps each way. Jarrod detected the signs of agonizing pain, and encouraged him to rest again.

In the afternoon Jarrod accompanied Victoria to the sheriff’s office. Sheriff Cooper had come back to town the day before, but had not got around to calling on Victoria. An absence of eight days had left him with considerable work to catch up on, and he was a close-mouthed man, not inclined to talk to strangers from outside Kern County at the best of times.

“Barkley? Oh, yeah, you belong to the feller that was shot, and the young feller out there.”

“You saw my brother Heath when you were in the foothills?” asked Jarrod carefully.

“Well, I didn’t bring him in, did I?”

“I don’t know any reason you would.”

The sheriff counted on his fingers. “Reckon you wouldn’t. – Maybe you can tell me, how a man called Wallent come to be with your brothers.”

Jarrod and Victoria exchanged glances. They had not yet talked about the investigation she had asked him to make. He said, “Wallent did great things during the war, apparently. My brother Nick thought highly of him then. The day before this cattle drive set out, he arrived at our ranch and did us some service. He also gave Nick some advice about the route, and Nick invited him to join the drive.”

Victoria spoke up. “Heath was suspicious of him from the start, but he didn’t try to argue with Nick.”

“What advice did he give about the route, do you know?”

Jarrod described as best he could from memory the location of the body of water Nick had thought was a permanent lake and Wallent had said was seasonal runoff, and the alternate route Nick had planned.

“Hm! There is water there all year – lot more in the spring, but it don’t dry up. Everybody round here knows that.”

“So he lied to us. – Did you find out what he was up to?”

“Some of it. But I don’t aim to tell you.”

Victoria said, “Can you at least tell us if Heath is all right?”

“Seemed all right to me. That was a week ago – dunno what might’ve happened since.”

He would not tell them any more, though they tried a while longer.

On the way back to the doctor’s house, Jarrod summed up what they had learned. “A day or so after Nick was shot – by the time the sheriff got there, it couldn’t have been much less – Heath was all right. The sheriff didn’t arrest him. The sheriff thinks Wallent was up to something, and the fact he lied about the water supports that.”

“Did you find out anything else yourself?”

“I found out he’s wanted in Texas, for illegal dealings across the border last year. He was involved in some shady dealings in New Mexico before that. The army says he’s not working for them. So it seems plausible that his arrival at the ranch that day was no coincidence, that he planned all along to go with them, and used Nick’s admiration for that purpose.”

“What was he hoping to gain?”

“I don’t know. I can’t even guess – and the sheriff isn’t telling what he knows.”

“Better not say anything to Nick until he’s better.”

“Agreed.”

The train journey was as difficult as Jarrod had expected. Getting Nick on and off the two trains was a huge task, and even though the berths he had obtained were the ones closest to the lavatories, moving Nick that short distance every few hours was not easy. It was harder to witness his mother’s exhaustion and his brother’s pain.

Stockton

It ended, eventually. By Tuesday evening Nick was installed in his own bed, with Audra fussing over him, reading aloud, playing checkers, or whatever he needed to fill the long hours of captivity. By the end of the week he was hopping downstairs for part of the day and demanding reports on the ranch.

The Sixth and Seventh Weeks

Heath and the cattle were due in San Diego that Saturday, if all had gone well. Jarrod had already written a letter with detailed instructions to Heath care of the San Diego post office, and a letter to the bank he dealt with there, enclosing a description of Heath and a specimen of his signature recovered from one of the businesses in town. That morning he went in to his office, though he had no urgent cases, and sent Heath a telegram. “NICK RECOVERING WELL STOP DELIVERY INSTRUCTIONS SENT BY LETTER STOP IS WALLENT WITH YOU STOP REPLY SOONEST REPORT LOSSES JARROD”.

Trying to keep busy while waiting for an answer, he thought of the thirty thousand dollars they stood to lose if the cattle had vanished and the lesser penalties for delayed delivery, of the mystery surrounding General Wallent, of the stranger who was his brother. He did not want to go home and report bad news, not even that an answer had not come. He did not want to get a query from the army, or a report of disaster from McColl, but he was not sure how he felt about getting good news from Heath. That would mean the stranger had earned his place in the family, and no turning back.

Was he hoping for a chance to turn back with a clear conscience?

By mid-afternoon he was joined in his waiting by Sam De Koven, Roger Fries, and Jack Royce three of the four neighbors who had added their cattle to the drive. They knew of Nick’s injury, and they were worried men. For their benefit Jarrod made every effort to be optimistic without making any new promises.

The telegram came a little before five o’clock. “LOST 76 HEAD STOP HAVE RECEIPTS STOP WALLENT DEAD HEATH”.

“Only seventy-six head lost!”

“Jarrod, that half-brother of yours proved he’s a cattleman!”

“Wonder what happened to that Wallent fellow?”

Putting the clues together, Jarrod thought it was very likely that Heath had killed Wallent to stop him from carrying out whatever his plan had been. Apparently the sheriff of Kern County had considered the killing justified. There was a story yet to be told, but it would have to await Heath’s return.

He bought celebratory drinks for the neighbors, and took the telegram home.

Nick was pleased by the success of the drive, but not by the news about Wallent. Even when Jarrod detailed what he had found out about the man, he refused at first to believe it.

“It don’t make any sense! What good could it possibly do him to eat dust on a cattle drive? I tell you, lawyer, it just don’t make sense!”

“I don’t know what his plan was. But if it’s true he had one, if he wasn’t here by accident and didn’t go along for the adventure, then it’s plain you fell into his plans, and Heath saw through them. Our brother is no fool, Nick.”

“Never said he was. But it makes no sense!”

After a day or two Nick put his mistake and his doubts behind him and turned his mind to setting the ranch to rights after weeks without his supervision. By Monday he was outdoors on his crutches, and by Friday he had put the crutches aside to hobble about with a cane.

The Eighth Week

On Tuesday afternoon of the following week, Jarrod was writing a brief in his office when Mr. Trim tapped on his door. “Mr. Barkley, your, hem, brother is here.”

“My brother? – Heath? – Heath, welcome home!”

“Howdy, Jarrod.” Dirty, unshaven, saddle-weary, a shade apprehensive, Heath shook hands and sat in the leather armchair to which Jarrod steered him.

Jarrod opened his cabinet and poured drinks. “We didn’t expect you until tomorrow at least.”

“Made good time.”

“How many men came back with you?” Several men had been hired on just for the drive, and cowboys were notorious for moving on, so it would be unusual to bring back more than half those who set out.

“Fifteen of ours, four o’ the others.” Heath sipped his drink cautiously. “McColl quit.”

“Oh? How’d that come about?”

“Reckon he figured he could do better somewheres else.”

Jarrod reflected that the foreman had no reason to like the sudden appearance of another family member to answer to, and he had been put in a most awkward position more than once as a result. No doubt McColl’s quitting was inevitable as soon as Heath came, and they should be grateful he had had enough pride and loyalty to stay until the drive was finished. They would have to find another foreman, but the next one would start with Heath already in place.

“Who came with you, then?”

Heath named off fifteen men, including the cook. Wilf Barrett was not one of them.

“Anyone badly hurt?” There were always scrapes and strains and bruises, not worth counting.

“Couple. Taken care of.”

“What happened to Wallent?”

Heath met his eyes. “I killed him.”

“Why?”

“Sheriff called it self-defense.”

“Kern County sheriff? We talked to him – Mother and I – but he wouldn’t tell us much, didn’t even tell us Wallent was dead. So he called it self-defense, meaning he wasn’t going to charge you? Mind telling me about it? You can be sure Nick’s going to insist on hearing the story, but maybe I can help you out if I know already.” Seeing that Heath hesitated, he added helpfully, “Start with Nick getting shot. He told us Wallent finished the man off.”

“That seem ‘spicious to you?”

“Yes, it did. It’s what someone would do, who didn’t want the man talking.”

“Wallent said the first day, he didn’t need to eat trail dust at the back, he’d be more use scoutin’ ahead. So he was ridin’ ahead every day, mostly out o’ sight, even gone overnight once. He might’ve been meetin’ somebody, or settin’ somethin’ up, and we’d never know.” Heath settled into his story, telling it as if he had been over it many times.

“Nick approved of that, I suppose.”

“Yep.”

“And he wasn’t ready to listen to your advice.”

“Nope.”

“Nick always has a hard time admitting he might be wrong, until something touches his heart. – How was it going with the hands? You were having some trouble with them before you left, I know.”

“No different. But Wallent was getting’ along fine with ‘em – talkin’ to ‘em. He talked real good.”

“All the tricks of rhetoric – that’s the art of persuasion. He could’ve been a politician.”

“Seems that’s what he was aimin’ at. Not here, though. Mexico.”

“Mexico. What did he want with our cattle? Surely he didn’t plan to take them to Mexico.”

“Wallent didn’t care ‘bout the cattle. He wanted the men.”

“The men!”

“Soon’s Nick was gone, trouble started, that night in camp. Then he sneaked out when he thought everybody was asleep, but I trailed him, two or three miles by moonlight – and saw him talkin’ to some fellas at an old shack. So I waited till they left, and had me a look. Place was full o’ guns and ammunition.”

“So the drive was right where he wanted it to be. – What did you do?”

“Went back to camp. Slept some. Come mornin’, I said we’d scout for that lake Wallent told Nick wasn’t there. That started the men, and him – then it come out, he’d been makin’ ‘em some mighty big promises, what was waitin’ in Mexico for ‘em. He was takin’ any man that’d follow him, to join Diaz.”

“Not a leader I’d care to follow.”

“I been in Mexico. I knew what his promises was worth. But the men swallowed them whole, seemed like – he had ‘em on a string. So off they went.”

“Just like that? – What about McColl?”

“McColl didn’t join ‘em, but he didn’t know what to do. He said somethin’ about, maybe we could hire some more men in Bakersfield, round up the cattle again and go on. He figured three or four o’ the men that was guardin’ the herd overnight’d stick with us. So I sent him over to the herd to see what he could do there, and I went straight to the shack. Got in there ‘mongst all that ammunition, with my rifle, and waited for the men to get there – they was packin’ up their gear first.”

Jarrod pictured it. “That was dangerous.”

“Didn’t see no other way. I stood ‘em off for a while – they wouldn’t shoot at me, cause cause Wallent needed the powder. They tried to rush me, a couple o’ times, but it didn’t work – had to shoot one, but it was just a flesh wound, healed in a week. Then Wallent come by himself – he thought they was followin’ him, but they wasn’t. He’d gone right off his head, seems like, and they finally figured it out. I tried to get him to put down his gun, but he tried to take a shot at me, so I shot him.”

Jarrod cast his mind back to the battle at Sample’s farm, when he had watched Heath using his gun. A dangerous man, a good man to have on one’s side. “What did the men say to that?”

“Seems like they decided they might as well hang on to their jobs after all. So we scouted for the lake, and we found it, plenty o’ water in it too.”

“You must have been doing that when the sheriff came along.”

“Yeah. I was wonderin’, if I should go into Bakersfield to report killin’ Wallent, but I didn’t have time right then. So I was glad to see him.”

“The men backed up your story?”

“Reckon they must’ve. Sheriff didn’t tell me what they said. – Seemed to me, he already had a notion somethin’ was goin’ on.”

“Yes, I got that impression too. – When Nick told Mother what he knew about the shooting, she wired to me to investigate Wallent – did I tell you in my letter, she went to Bakersfield as soon as she got word he was there, to nurse him? – and I found out a few things I wish I’d known before he went off with you and Nick. He wasn’t working for the army, and he was wanted in Texas.”

Heath nodded, not surprised. “He was a big man, but he lost his way.”

“Well put. – Heath, three thousand cattle weren’t worth risking your life that way. It would’ve been a big financial loss to us, but it wouldn’t have ruined us.”

“Didn’t do it for the cattle. Or the money. Or the Barkleys.”

“For the men? They didn’t deserve any favors from you.”

“Couldn’t see all them men go off after a crazy man. They’d all end up dead, or worse. They didn’t deserve that. – ‘Sides, I was just mad enough to do somethin’ stupid.”

Jarrod was silent for a minute, taking it in. The diffident, uneducated cowboy he had invited into his family in the name of right and justice had proved himself a man of remarkable courage and resource, and more, a man of compassion and principle. “Heath,” he said at last, “I’m proud to be your brother.”

Nick would not admit how much his leg hurt, but he allowed Audra to cajole him into sitting on the back verandah while he told her what she had done wrong in his absence.

“And another thing, the south side of the corral fence needs a coat o’ whitewash – looks disgraceful.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll do it myself tomorrow,” she promised meekly, but her eyes twinkled.

Victoria came out onto the verandah with her mending basket. “Nick, do you think she had nothing to do while you were away but whitewash fences?” She set the basket between her chair and Audra’s and began darning a sock. Her daughter took the hint and began on another.

“If this is gonna be a hen party,” said Nick, not moving, “I might as well go back to work.”

“Jarrod should be home soon, and then it will be dinner time. Sit with us for a while.”

“Oh, please, Nick! I still haven’t told you about Ciego and the black cow – you know, the one with only one horn. Ciego was milking her one morning, and she kicked the bucket all over his boots ….”

Before Audra had finished her anecdote, Nick’s eyes betrayed that he was listening to another sound. She stopped talking and listened also. “Riders coming!” From where they sat they could not see the road; she jumped up to go and look around the corner of the house.

“I must be getting hard of hearing,” Victoria complained, and then she too heard the sound of many shod horses coming rapidly closer.

“Sounds like maybe twenty horses,” said Nick, getting to his feet with a grimace. “Could be Heath and the men, a day early, or – ”

Audra came running back. “It’s Heath! Heath and a dozen of the men – I recognize Pete, and Artie – I’m sure it’s Heath!”

Victoria remained seated, putting away her mending, hiding her excitement. She watched the riders come into the yard, whooping and hollering in glee. Nick was there, Audra sticking close to him, and there was Heath dismounting in front of them. Audra hugged him, regardless of his dirt, and Nick shook hands. She heard Nick’s booming voice congratulating all the men on doing a good job.

Heath came toward her, smiling.

“Welcome home, Heath!”

“Good to be home. – I’m real dirty, ma’am. You don’t wanna get trail dust on your clothes.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” She reached from the top step and held him by the shoulders, looking into his eyes and finding no new shadows there. “You’ve done a fine job, Heath. We’ll want to hear the details later, but right now I’m sure you want to get cleaned up.”

“Gotta see to my horse first. Sure lookin’ forward to a bath, though.”

He had finished with his horse and gone inside with a cheery greeting to Silas, when Jarrod drove into the yard. After he had spoken to some of the hands and turned his rig over to Ciego, he came to the verandah where his mother had returned to her mending.

“Jarrod, did you see Heath?”

“He stopped at my office. Gave me the receipts, so I stopped to arrange for them to be delivered to the right people. Mother, he’s done a splendid job!”

“Good. Tell me.”

He sat next to her and told her the story he had gleaned from Heath. “It sounds as if he didn’t have any choice but to kill Wallent. The Kern County sheriff called it self-defense, after he’d talked to some of the men, so there shouldn’t be any more trouble over that. But what a standoff! It took a cool head and steady nerves to attempt it, much less to succeed!”

“Oh, yes, he did well!”

“And the best part, he says he didn’t do it for us, he did it to save the men themselves, from the fate Wallent would’ve led them to.”

“Yes – yes, I see. That is what Heath would do.”

More noise on the road heralded the arrival of the two wagons, the buckboard piled with miscellaneous gear, the other the chuckwagon driven by a cowboy, with Wang Ma, the cook, sitting beside him. Victoria called Silas and Audra to help Wang Ma get set up in the repaired cookhouse so that the men could be fed. Jarrod remained watching the scene until Nick came out of the stable and joined him.

“They tell me,” Nick waved his hand toward the men who were lining up to wash under the pump, “Wallent tried to get them to go off and fight for Diaz in Mexico, and Heath killed him to stop them.”

“That’s more or less the story Heath told me. There was a standoff – the sheriff of Kern County was there later in the day, he called it self-defense.”

“They tell me they think a lot of him now.”

“Of Heath? Good!”

“They were damned fools to listen to that about Mexico.”

“Yes, they were.”

“Remember the first night, you said we could gain us a brother? You were right.”

“A brother worth having. – I couldn’t have done what he did, and neither could Gene.”

“That’s for sure. – I never would’ve believed Wallent was settin’ us up….”

Heath came down to dinner scrubbed, shaved, wearing clean clothes with one of the shirts Audra had made him. He looked happier and more confident than his family had seen him before – and, Victoria thought, very handsome.

Jarrod raised his glass in a toast. “Welcome home, Heath. Here’s to you – every inch a Barkley.”

“Hear, hear!” cried Audra.

“Good work, boy!” added Nick. “Here’s to our future together!”

Victoria was happy too, seeing him accepted in the family as he had not been before, hoping he would not need any more to be the outsider looking in, the one on the edge. Oh, there would still be rough places to be smoothed out, but the worst was surely over.

After dinner, while a glowing Heath was telling tall tales of his journey, she became aware of one of the rough places when she saw Nick standing pensive on the edge of the group. He had seemed to praise Heath earlier, but – well, no doubt it was the fall of his hero that was troubling him.

She went to him, let him know she understood about fallen heroes, and then found a need to say more, to tell him he was still the boss of the ranch, he still had her full support. He seemed to accept what she said, but she was left wondering.

The “hero” Wallent had turned out to be corrupt and even insane. But Tom, who had been the hero of Nick’s youth and, perhaps, the villain of Heath’s – what about Tom?

Continued…