Getting on with the Right Thing

Part 2

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 BARKLEY RANCH

Spring turned into summer. The Valley lay hot and dry under the merciless sun. On the Barkley Ranch, Tom and his men spent long days in the saddle. There was always water in the San Joaquin River at one narrow end of the ranch, but the grazing there was not enough to sustain the thirsty cattle for long, so the men kept them near whatever water holes remained on the lands away from the river for as long as they could.

Once the boys were out of school they joined the men at least part of every day, learning the patience to watch cattle graze and nudge them back when they strayed. Jarrod carried a book in his saddlebags for the quiet times, but found he had to keep his eye on his younger brother as well as on the cattle. Though Nick loved being with the men, he found the work boring and got into trouble more than once for not attending to his duties, or attending to them with too much enthusiasm.

Victoria, ungainly in her last weeks of pregnancy, and feeling the heat, sat for hours on the shady veranda, sewing for her baby and occasionally calling to Eugene to stop whatever he was doing. In this hot weather she let him run around naked and did not object to him splashing in any mud there might be, but she did not want him pulling up her little garden or exposing himself to dangerous large animals.

Silas by now had learned almost everything he needed to know to run the house smoothly, and did so. He consulted Victoria, and deferred to her, but she sometimes wondered what she would have left to do when she felt like doing more. The new baby would keep that from becoming a problem anytime soon, and after that there would be the big new house Tom wanted to build next year.

Sitting there in the sweltering afternoons, she thought back to the springtime journey to the mountains. It would not be unbearably hot there even now. Icy-cold streams, overarching forests, clear air …. Heath, the sturdy red-cheeked lad so like her Eugene – would he still remember his father? Leah, who worked so hard – Leah had written an answer to the letter Tom sent with Heath’s parcel, but Tom would not show it to her. Thinking about that, Victoria had concluded that he was considering Leah’s feelings about exposing her defective education in writing, and had not held it against him.

Jarrod and Nick rode in late on a Thursday afternoon. While Silas scurried about to put supper on the table, Jarrod explained, “The last waterhole in the pasture’s gone. They’re moving the cattle by moonlight, down to the river – Father says it’ll be easier on them travelling overnight, than in the heat. But he doesn’t want us out all night.”

“Don’t see why not!” Nick declared. “I’ve been out all night before.”

Victoria repressed a shudder. “I know you have, dear, but didn’t your father have to go looking for you the last time?”

“Well, he did, but I was just up a tree, safe as safe.”

“Yes, but we didn’t know that. Sleep in your bed tonight, Nick, promise me?”

He saw she was serious. “All right, Ma. Promise.”

In due course they all went to bed. Victoria lay awake in the heat, with only a thin cotton nightgown over her and the sheet turned back, hoping for a cool breeze. If Tom had been there beside her she would have been hotter still, but she missed him all the same.

The baby must come soon, if not this week then surely next. Once the cattle were by the river, Tom would be closer to her. She only had to get through this one night ….

Then she felt a very recognizable labor pain.

Jarrod was wakened by his mother’s hand on his shoulder. “Ssh! Get dressed and come in my room, Jarrod, I need you.”

“The baby?”

“Yes. Be quick!” She disappeared again, barely visible in the reflected moonlight. Nick and Eugene slept peacefully on.

He groped for pants and shirt, and crossed the hall to her room. “What should I do?” He was appalled that he was going to be called on to do something.

She was lighting the lamp. He saw that she had pulled a shabby old dressing gown over her nightgown. She looked and acted as calm and capable as usual.

“First, please go downstairs and wake Silas, and bring him back up with you.”

Silas now had a bed in a little room built on at the side of the summer kitchen. Jarrod found the door open and no one in sight. He forced himself to think before he started yelling and woke the boys. It was even hotter down here, so perhaps Silas had gone outside to sleep. It was certainly cooler outside; there was even a little dew on the wilted grass. Yes, there he was on the veranda, in light underdrawers, sound asleep.

“Silas! Silas, wake up!”

Silas quickly pulled on shirt and pants and followed Jarrod upstairs. The whites of his eyes gleamed in the lamplight, accentuating his anxious expression.

Victoria had been taking things from a drawer, old sheets quilted together to make large pads for the bed. She put those aside as Jarrod and Silas came in and sat quietly. “Jarrod, you were with the men today. Where do you think they’ll be by now?”

Jarrod gathered his wits and described an area five or six miles from the house and not any nearer to the road to Stockton. “Should I go for Father?”

“That would take an extra hour or so, wouldn’t it?” She paused, and they could see her attention turning inward for a moment. “This baby may not wait long. Do you think you could ride to town yourself and tell Dr. Merar?”

“Yes, I suppose I could.”

“All right. Be careful. If Dr. Merar is out of town, try Dr. Burns, and then Mrs. Wallace. – Off you go, then – don’t forget your boots!” She kissed his cheek. “Silas, can you fetch Mrs. Montoya please, and start a fire in the stove, put on some water to heat.”

There were no horses in the stable but the two he and Nick had ridden that day. Jarrod took his own and rode cautiously through the shadowed yard, out to the moonlit road. There he could get up some speed. Unused to riding at night and knowing the horse had had a hard day, he was reluctant to go flat out, but on some of the better stretches of road the thought of his mother and what she must be feeling – not that he had any very clear ideas about it – spurred him on.

In Stockton, there was still some action going on in a couple of the saloons, but everything else was silent and still. He made his way to Dr. Merar’s house, dismounted and knocked. A voice answered from inside, and presently the doctor opened the door.

“Young Jarrod!” he exclaimed in surprise. “Does your mother want me?”

“Yes, sir, she says it’s time.”

“All right. Just give me a few minutes. Have a seat there on the bench.” When he was ready, he took Jarrod around to the stable where his horse awaited. “Tie yours behind, you might as well join me in the buggy.” Once they were underway he asked why Tom wasn’t the one fetching him, and who else was at the ranch. “Mrs. Montoya – all right, she’s a sensible woman and she’s had five or six of her own, but she may have some old wives’ practices. Silas’ll take care of her as best he can, but I don’t suppose he knows much about delivering babies.”

“Do you think she’ll be all right, doctor?”

“Oh, most likely. Eugene came easy, I can tell you that, and the little girls who died, too. Don’t know about you, I wasn’t here then, but she told me once that Nick gave her a hard time.”

“Women do die sometimes in childbirth.”

“Yes, sometimes. But not if I can help it.”

“I was at home when Eugene was born. I remember her yelling because it hurt so much. And there was a lot of blood.”

“That’s Nature’s way, Jarrod. You’ve seen foals born, haven’t you, and calves?”

“Yes – but they’re animals.”

“Your mother isn’t a plant, Jarrod.”

“Mares and cows don’t yell.”

“No, it’s not their way. – Human beings are apt to have more trouble than other animals, because the babies’ heads are sometimes bigger than Nature intended. But there are usually ways to deal with that. – Ever think of being a doctor when you grow up?”

Jarrod shuddered. “No, sir, I don’t think so.”

“That’s a pity. – Keep your eyes peeled for the turnoff up here, don’t let me miss it. Moon’s not helping us much any more.”

The moon was down and light was growing in the eastern sky by the time they drove up to the ranchhouse. Jarrod took charge of the horses while the doctor went inside. Lights showed in both kitchens and the master bedroom, and smoke was coming from the chimney of the summer kitchen.

He finished with the horses and went to the house, hoping he might find that it was all well over, but when he found Silas kneeling in prayer in the kitchen he knew it was not. “Silas, tell me what’s happened?”

“It bad, Mr. Jarrod, it bad!”

“What, Silas? Come on, tell me!”

Silas raised his head and gestured toward the staircase. “Listen, Mr. Jarrod!”

He listened, and understood Silas’s terror. His mother was undoubtedly suffering terribly, moaning and gasping. Mrs. Montoya’s voice was trying to tell the doctor something in broken English. The doctor spoke cheerfully, giving brisk instructions.

Jarrod’s attention was caught by another sound: Eugene was crying, upstairs in his crib. Where, then, was Nick? Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen Nick’s pony in the stable. “Silas, where’s Nick?”

“Mr. Nick, he go fetch Mr. Barkley.”

“How long ago?”

“L’il while ‘fore you come.”

Might Mother have sent him out there once he was awake, just to get him out of the house? Or had he gone on his own? Would they have sent him if they thought Mother was going to die?

Jarrod saw his own duty. He went upstairs, trying not to listen to the sounds from his mother’s room, and picked up Eugene out of his crib. Of course he was wet and stinky in his diaper. He grabbed a clean one from the cupboard and took his little brother downstairs.

Silas, confronted with something practical to do, gathered himself and took charge of the child, comforting him, cleaning him up, feeding him. He went on to make breakfast for Jarrod and the doctor.

Dr. Merar, lured by the smell of coffee, came briskly downstairs to eat. “It’s not going as fast as she thought it would,” he said calmly. “You could’ve waited for daylight to come after me, Jarrod.”

“Is there anything wrong?”

“Oh, no, it’s just taking time.” The doctor helped himself to steak and eggs. Jarrod tried to eat, but he had no appetite.

“I have to do my chores,” he said, and escaped outside. He had just realized, in fact, what he had to do. One of his regular jobs this summer was helping Mrs. Montoya milk the five cows kept for dairy use, and Mrs. Montoya wouldn’t be there this morning.

His father had assigned the milking the first day of school holidays. “Maybe it’s not what you’d like to be doing, son, but you never know when you might need to milk a cow, so you better learn the trick of it.” Jarrod could see the sense in that, but he did not enjoy milking and was always relieved to finish his two cows. Now he had all five to do. It would take a long time, and he was a little afraid of the one with the black patch over her eye, but cows could not be left unmilked.

While he milked he thought about possibilities. Especially, he remembered his father saying that if anything happened to Mother, he “might” marry the woman in Strawberry, the mother of Heath. Jarrod’s stomach twisted at the idea of a strange woman in his mother’s place. Could that be God’s plan, to make Heath legitimate? – no, surely not!

He had started the third cow when he heard galloping hooves coming into the yard. From the milking barn he couldn’t see, but he was sure his father had come at last. The kitchen door slammed, and there was silence again – it was too far to hear any of the sounds inside the house.

Jarrod finished the third cow and started the fourth, leaving the one with the black patch to the last. Then he heard his father’s voice calling his name. “Here!”

Tom came around the back of the cow and looked at him approvingly. “Good work, son. I’ll do the last one.”

“Don’t you – I mean – how’s Mother?”

“Doc says she’ll be a while yet. I’d just as soon not be in the house when all that’s going on.”

“Me too.”

Tom brought another pail and sat down to the cow with the eyepatch, giving her a firm shove when she tried to lean on him. “Hear you went for the doctor in the middle of the night. I should’ve been here to do it, it was bad timin’ all round. I’m proud of you.”

Would Father be the same if he had a new wife? Would he understand things?

* * * * * * * *

They finished the milking, turned the last two cows out to pasture, and poured the milk through cloth to strain out any hairs or dirt. Tom carried two pails over to the Montoya cabin while Jarrod fed the cats and mucked out, then they carried the rest to the main house.

“Gonna go back and make sure them kids get some breakfast – don’t look like Teresa’s gonna give ‘em much.” Teresa, the oldest of the Montoya children, was a girl of eleven who was always screaming at the little ones and being screamed at by her mother. Jarrod had played with her when they were little, but not lately, though Nick still played often with the oldest boy, Mariano.

At the house nothing seemed to have changed. The dreadful sounds were still coming from upstairs. Downstairs, Eugene was crying and Silas making not very effective attempts to console him. Tom set down the milk and went off to look after the young Montoyas, while Jarrod went back to do his other chores. When he finished, he ventured into the house again.

This time Silas met him with a grin. “Mr. Jarrod, you got a l’il sister!” Sure enough, there was an infant’s wail coming down the stairs. “You go tell Mr. Barkley!”

Jarrod ran at top speed across the yard and past the bunkhouse to the Montoya cabin. He burst in the door, forgetting to knock. “Father, it’s a girl!”

His father was sitting on a stool at the crudely made table, spoon-feeding bread and milk out of a bowl to the youngest Montoya on his knee, while the other four children tucked into bowls of their own, no doubt quite different from what they were used to. When Tom heard the news his weary and anxious expression gave way to a wide happy smile. “Thank God! A girl! That’s wonderful! – I’ll be along soon’s I’m done here, Jarrod. And your mama’ll be home pretty soon, most likely, Teresa, so hurry and get things cleaned up. – Jarrod, you better have a few hours sleep before you start anythin’ else.”

“Are the cattle all right?” He had not thought about them at all until now.

“Should be at the river soon. – Saul and Jorge and Buck know what to do, anyway. – Left Nick there to help out, we’ll leave him there for a while and let your mother get some sleep.”

Young Mariano tipped up his bowl and drank the remaining milk in a couple of gulps. “Can I go out and help Nick and Papa?”

“Reckon you can, if you can catch your pony out in the pasture. Off you go, then. – Conchita, you be good and help your sister, and Pablo, I don’t want you to make Diego cry any more. I’ll be up at the house for a while, but if your mama’s not home soon I’ll check on you again.” Tom put Diego down on the floor where he promptly took off at a fast crawl out the door. “Come on, Jarrod.” As they left, Jarrod saw that Teresa and Conchita were stacking up the bowls for washing.

“How did you get them to behave so well?”

“Reckon they know I ‘spect ‘em to.” Tom did not waste further time on the question, but strode to the main house. He was in time to meet the doctor on his way out. “Thanks, Howard. Everything all right?”

“Had an anxious hour, but they’re both fine now. Keep Victoria in bed for a few days, but she should soon be back to her old self. As long as no fever develops – send for me if it does. You’ve got a beautiful daughter, Tom: congratulations!”

“Stay for dinner?”

“Can’t. Other patients. I’ll come by next time I’m out this way, see how she’s doing. And I’ll send you my bill.”

“You do that. – There’s Jarrod gettin’ your horse.”

“That’s a good boy you’ve got there.”

“I know. T’other one’s just as good at bottom, but he ain’t got the head for books Jarrod has – more practical like. And it’s too soon to say about – the rest.”

“Oh, well, there’s nothing wrong with Eugene, and this baby looks healthy too, likely to live. That’s the main thing.”

“Sure enough. Thanks again, Howard.”

The doctor hopped into his buggy and drove away. Tom turned into the house, washed quickly at the sink, and climbed the stairs. Jarrod followed uncertainly, feeling a little sick when he caught sight of one of the mattress pads, soaked through with blood, folded and lying in a corner.

Mrs. Montoya came out of the bedroom holding her finger to her lips. She was a tall stout woman who looked more than her thirty years. “Señor Barkley, the Señora, she sleep now. Walk soft, I show you la niña.”

Behind her Victoria’s voice, weary but happy, contradicted. “No need, Anita. I’m awake, you can go home for a rest now if you’ll come back this evening – thank you so much for coming at midnight, you were such a comfort! – Come in, Tom.” She lay under a sheet, still sweat-soaked and untidy from the night’s work, but with her eyes glowing and her lips unable to resist a smile. The baby in the crook of her arm looked very red and tiny to Jarrod, but Tom stroked her cheek with his callused fingers and declared she was going to be as beautiful as her mother.

“Oh, I think she’s going to look like you.”

“Not too much, I hope! Dunno how you can tell, anyway.”

“Wait, you’ll see I’m right. – Come and see your sister, Jarrod.”

Jarrod uncertainly touched the baby’s hand. To his surprise the tiny fingers curled around his and clutched with more strength than he would have thought possible. “Little girl,” he whispered. “Little sister.”

“You can help raise her,” said Tom. “Teach her dancin’.”

Jarrod remembered that he might be going away to school next year. He felt a sudden reluctance to be parted from this little creature while she grew and learned.

Victoria said, “Jarrod, thank you for bringing the doctor. It must have been quite a ride, in the middle of the night. – Now you’d better get some sleep. And so should the rest of us; I don’t think anyone slept much except Eugene. We were trying so hard to be quiet, Anita – Mrs Montoya to you – and Silas and I, but Nick woke about four, and then he had to be doing something, so as soon as there was some light I sent him for you,” she told Tom. “Is he still out there?”

“Reckon he’ll be all right for a while. I’ll lie down in the spare room for a coupla hours and then go back out there and send him in.”

Jarrod went away to bed, but he did not sleep much. Too much had happened, that he needed to think about.

Nick did not wait to be sent in. As soon as he considered the cattle safely settled by the river, he told Saul Peters he was leaving and turned his pony for home. He rode into the yard while Tom was still asleep upstairs, saw Silas gathering eggs, and yelled, “Silas, is my youngest brother born yet?”

“They’s a li’l girl, Master Nick,” Silas answered with a grin.

Nick’s face fell. “A girl! Who wants a stupid girl? Not even Eugene plays with girls!”

“Shush up, Master Nick, shush up, the mistress she sleepin’!”

By the time Nick entered the house his father was coming downstairs. “So, Nick, did I hear you say you don’t want a baby sister?”

“Don’t see what a girl’s good for!”

“None o’ that, now! – You woke your mother, comin’ in yellin’ like that, so you might as well come up and see her.”

When he saw the baby he stood rooted for a minute. “She ain’t hardly big ‘nough to spit at!”

Victoria tried not to laugh at Nick’s reaction and left it to Tom to deal with.

“No spittin’ ‘round the baby, or – ! Anyways, she’ll grow.”

The baby opened her blue eyes and gazed in Nick’s direction, and waved a tiny fist. Perhaps both of them felt the presence of a kindred soul. Nick capitulated. “Can I hold her?”

“You gotta be real careful when you hold a baby. And clean. Go get cleaned up, and we’ll see.”

Nick came back almost clean enough to go to church, and took a lesson in baby-holding while Tom hovered close over him. When Jarrod woke up, he found his brother making enthusiastic plans for their sister’s future.

* * * * * * * *

By the time the fall rains brought green back to the pastures and the men could relax their constant watchfulness, Baby Audra was offering an enchanting toothless smile to anyone who paid attention to her, and they all became her slaves.

Tom cuddled her against his shoulder and let her pull his beard. “You’re a beauty,” he crooned, “you’re a sweetheart, you’re a flirt – a heartless flirt, oh yes you are.”

“I’m afraid she’s going to be spoiled,” said Victoria, sitting in the rocker on the veranda and putting her feet up on a stool. “The only girl, after … so many boys.”

Tom’s body tensed. “Been thinkin’, would you be all right here if I was to go away for a week?”

“I should think so. You’re thinking of going to Strawberry?”

“If I’m gonna go this fall, better do it in the next couple weeks, afore there’s snow in the passes.” He looked at the baby again. “Hate to leave when she’s so little.”

“You’ve missed a whole summer of Heath.”

“Yeah. Reckon I oughta go. I’ll take Jarrod, like I said.”

“If there were anything I could send her, that she’d be willing to take – but I can’t think what. My regards.”

“None o’ Nick’s hand-me-downs?”

“Everything Nick wore, almost, was handed down from Jarrod, and the little that was left decent after that, I gave to the Montoya children. I had nothing put away for Eugene, that could be diverted to Heath.”

“When he’s bigger, maybe a pony. But I’d have to do somethin’ ‘bout payin’ for its keep.”

“You’d have to consult Leah about that.”

“Yeah.” He returned his attention to the baby in his arms. “She’s got the sweetest li’l dimples.”

When Jarrod heard his father’s plans, that evening while they did chores in the stable, he masked his inner reluctance with a show of concern. “Doesn’t Mother want you here, with the baby so small?”

“She says she’ll be all right.” Tom had seen two baby daughters die, however, and could not help feeling some secret terror for this one. “Don’t wanna go, exactly, but I gotta.”

“Why?”

“Told you afore. Heath, he’s got rights too. Can’t do everythin’ for you four, and nothin’ for him – tain’t fair. Can’t do much, but I gotta do what I can.”

“If Mother had died when Audra was born, you could do more for Heath.”

Tom turned on him suddenly. “Don’t you ever say that again!”

“I’m sorry,” Jarrod apologized, without really understanding his father’s anger.

After a minute Tom said quietly, “It could’ve happened.” He went on with his chores, but before he left the stable he added, “Reckon if we start first thing Thursday mornin’, we’re sure o’ gettin’ there by Saturday night.”

“Yes, sir.”

STRAWBERRY

Jarrod had been to San Francisco three times, and Sacramento once, by steamboat, and he had ridden with his father forty or fifty miles from home to other Valley ranches, but he had never been past the fringe of the Sierra before. The trip to Strawberry opened his eyes; he was full of questions about the forest, the mines, the mining camps. Some of the questions Tom could answer, some not. They spoke little about the purpose of their journey, Jarrod uncertain what to say and Tom content to await developments.

They were climbing from sea level to almost a mile high, and it was already October. They slept the first night comfortably in a hotel in Sonora, but the second they camped out, Jarrod huddling for warmth in his bedroll between his father and the fire and listening to the unfamiliar night noises of the mountains until he fell asleep. In the morning he ached from the hard bed and long hours of riding, but he forced himself back into the saddle and picked up the pack pony’s lead rope.

It was late in the afternoon of the third day, Saturday, when they reached Strawberry and stopped at the Simmons’ hotel. The woman at the desk recognized Tom immediately.

“Welcome back, Mr. Barkley. You haven’t brought Mrs. Barkley with you this time, I see. I hope she’s well.”

“She’s fine. This is my son Jarrod, Mrs. Simmons. We’ll take a room for two nights, maybe three.”

“Hm. Number six is the only one available tonight.” She pushed the register toward Tom to sign and handed him a key. “Does Leah know you’re here?”

“Wrote to her t’other day, but we might’ve got here ahead o’ the letter. She here right now?”

“In the kitchen. I’ll fetch her.”

Jarrod stepped aside, trying to blend into the shadows. He had not realized that everyone in Strawberry would know all about it. But no, she worked here, of course her employer would know. At least there was no one else around, so far as he could see.

Mrs. Simmons put her head through a door in the dark corner behind the desk and called, “Leah, would you come here a minute?”

Jarrod could not hear the answer clearly, but he made out the words “Two shakes.” He looked at his father, who had taken off his hat and was beating some of the dirt out of it to fall on Mrs. Simmons’ clean floor. When the door at the back opened again, Tom looked up with a sober face, aware of being watched from two sides in this awkward situation but concentrating on Leah.

“Howdy, Leah,” he said.

Leah paused in the shadow for an instant, recognizing him, and then came forward into the light. “Howdy, Tom,” she said, as she might speak to any old friend. “Wondered if’n you’d come today.”

“Wrote you I was plannin’ on it, but maybe the letter ain’t got here yet.”

“Come yesterday.”

“’Spose you’re busy here for the next while.”

“Jus’ gettin’ supper. – How ‘bout, y’all go on over to my house for supper? Hannah, she got chicken to fry. – I’ll be ‘long after a while, but I promised to go dancin’ tonight, don’ wanna miss that. So you can stay n’ visit Heath till he goes to bed.”

“All right, good idea. – Leah, this here’s my oldest boy, Jarrod. Told you I figured to bring him.”

Jarrod came forward a couple of steps and bowed politely. There seemed nothing very alarming about this sturdy woman who talked of such ordinary matters as fried chicken, like any housewife. He could not see at all what had attracted his father to her: neither beauty nor romance. Nor – to his relief – could he detect any signs of a continuing attraction.

“Howdy, Jarrod,” she said rather shyly. “Glad you come.”

“Howdy,” he got out awkwardly.

“Can’t stay now,” she apologized. “Got work to do. See you at the house.” She disappeared the way she had come.

Tom turned to Jarrod. “We’ll go up and wash, and then we’ll walk over to see Heath. – So we won’t be wantin’ supper here tonight, Mrs. Simmons. Can’t say yet ‘bout tomorrow.”

Mrs. Simmons did not look pleased, but she gave them directions to their room and followed them shortly with a jug of warm water. “Mighty dirty on the road this time o’ year,” she observed.

“’Tis that,” Tom agreed, waiting for her to go away before he took his shirt off.

“Father,” said Jarrod tentatively, “if you’d like to go over there by yourself, I don’t mind staying here alone. Maybe Mrs. Simmons could still let me have supper here.”

“Don’t think that’s such a good idea, Jarrod.” Tom did not explain why, whether he especially wanted Jarrod to meet Heath over supper or did not want to leave him alone at the hotel, but his tone made it clear there was no use arguing.

When they had washed and dressed again, they went down the front stairs past the empty dining room. A lean clean-shaven man, almost as tall as Tom though not so broad in the shoulders, stood in the doorway opposite watching them. Tom nodded to him. “Howdy, Simmons.”

“Barkley,” said the other without nodding. His light blue eyes were as cold as his voice.

Out on the street Jarrod asked, “Who was that?”

“Told you Leah cooks at her brother’s hotel. That’s the brother, Matt Simmons. Not much good to her, far’s I can tell – don’t s’pose he pays her what she’s worth to him, though she wouldn’t say so.”

“Is he your enemy?”

“Hope not. I don’t mean him no harm, but if he – never mind.”

“He wouldn’t hurt Heath, would he?”

“He better not.”

As they walked up the muddy lane, a cold wind was blowing off the mountain and it was beginning to get dark. Inside the little cabin, someone lit a lamp as they approached.

* * * * * * * *

Tom knocked on the door. There was a bit of a scurry, and then a woman’s voice from just inside called, “Who dat?”

“Hannah, it’s Tom Barkley. Leah sent me over from the hotel. May I come in?” Tom pitched his voice carefully, just loud enough to be heard inside without carrying all over the neighborhood.

Another voice, farther away, shouted, “Pa? ’S’at my pa?”

“It’s me, Heath. Come back to see you like I said I would.”

The door opened cautiously. Jarrod saw an old black woman – she looked old to him – holding the lamp, and then a fair-haired child darted past her and hurled himself into Tom’s outstretched arms.

So this was Heath. He looked very much like a larger version of Eugene. He was excitedly trying to tell Tom something – something about hitting a squirrel with a slingshot, apparently.

Tom laughed. “Good for you, son! You tell me all about it later, all right? First let me say howdy to Hannah. Hope you’re keepin’ well, Hannah?”

“Could be worse,” Hannah answered tersely. Her eyes went past him to Jarrod on the edge of the light.

“This here’s my oldest son, Jarrod. Jarrod, this is Miss Hannah James, helped save my life that time.”

Jarrod knew well enough how to behave to Hannah. “How do you do, Miss James?”

Hannah stared at him for a moment without speaking, and then turned back into the house. “Y’all migh’s well c’mon in.”

Jarrod, coming last through the door, found Heath’s eyes on him. “’S you Jawwod?”

“Jarrod. My name’s Jarrod.” He stressed the “r” sound, as he might do for Eugene in a year or two.

Tom knelt down on the floor between them. “Yep. Heath, this here’s your big brother Jarrod. Can you say it like that?”

“Ja-rod. Ja-rod. I can say it, Pa!” Heath laughed with the pleasure of it, and then looked worried. “Pa, if’n I said Ja-rod’s name wrong in my prayers, will God know?”

Tom hardly knew whether to laugh or cry. He answered tenderly, “God always knows who you mean, son, no matter if you know the right name or not.”

Jarrod was astonished that this ignorant barefoot child had prayed for him. In the months he had known of Heath’s existence, he had never once thought to do the same, and worse, he realized, if he had thought of it he probably still would not have done it.

At the same time, he saw clearly from his father’s voice and manner how important Heath was to him, how much more was there than the sense of guilty obligation he himself had guessed at. There might not be any real love for the mother – that was hard for a boy of thirteen to judge – but there was certainly love for the child.

And even in Jarrod’s eyes, there could be no doubt of the relationship. Heath had Barkley eyes, Barkley hair, something Barkley about the shape of his face – certainly Barkley blood.

Hannah had been attending to the fire, or pretending to. Now she interrupted. “You folks had supper?”

“Nope. Ate on the trail, ‘round noon. Don’t matter, we’ll eat whatever you got.”

“Tater salad n’ fried chicken sound good?”

“Real good. Remember you as a good cook, ‘most as good as Leah.”

“Who you s’pose learned her to cook?” Hannah went to work at the stove.

Tom laughed. “Never thought to ask. – Anythin’ I can do to help you?”

“Put the plates ‘round.” She indicated the shelf where dishes were neatly stacked behind a curtain made

from an old sheet. It was no great task, but it made him choose who should sit where. Tom picked up the top four plates and saw that no two were alike.

“Which one’s yours, Heath?”

“Mine’s the blue one. The brown un’s Hannah’s, n’ Mama has the one with posies when she’s here. N’ the white un’s for company.”

“I see. Can company use this one too, with the yellow edge? We’ll leave your Mama’ s on the shelf tonight.”

“That one got a chip out, ain’t so nice. Gimme that one, Pa, you have the white one n’ Ja-rod can have my blue one.”

“Thanks, Heath, but it’s all right, I don’t mind the chip. I’ll have that one, you have your own, and Jarrod can have the white one, all right? When I was a boy, there was a big family of us, we had some chipped plates too.” He set the four plates around the table, with Hannah’s opposite his own.

“How big was your family, Pa?”

“Had four brothers and four sisters. Nine of us, and our mother and father and a bedridden uncle, in a house not much bigger’n this, on a little rocky farm in Pennsylvania.”

“Nine!” Heath counted on his fingers. “Four n’ four don’ make nine, Pa.”

Jarrod could not resist. “Four and four and one, Heath. He was one of them too.”

Heath frowned and then laughed. “Pa was one too! I see!” He gazed admiringly at Jarrod. “You’re smart!”

Tom laughed too. “Both o’ you are smart boys. – Hannah, how ‘bout I chop some o’ that wood I see out back, ‘fore it gets too dark?”

“If’n you wants to, I won’ say no.” Hannah was cutting up pieces of bloody chicken into a large frying pan.

Both boys followed Tom out the back door into the yard, where a few logs had been cut into stove lengths and stacked untidily under a rickety roof. Nearby was a small pile of chopped wood, a chopping block and an axe. Tom twirled the axe, finding it light and not well balanced. Using a deerskin thong from his coat pocket, he fastened a fist-sized stone opposite the axehead, approved the results, told the boys to stand back, and began chopping with sure powerful strokes.

Jarrod noticed that Heath was clutching at his arms and rubbing his feet against each other for warmth, and that though he wore a thick flannel shirt and overalls he had no coat or shoes. “You should get your coat.”

“Don’ need it till winter.”

They must be terribly poor, thought Jarrod. He said, “Come here, then.” He sat on the back step so he could put his own arms around the child’s thin body and pull the cold feet onto his lap. When Heath relaxed into his embrace he could not help feeling that this was one of his family, any more than he had been able to resist Audra’s baby grasp of his finger.

He asked, “Who usually chops the wood?”

“Mos’ly Hannah, or Mama. Unca Luke, he come one day n’ chopped a big pile, s’mos’ly gone now.”

“Who’s Uncle Luke?” Jarrod expected to hear about the hotel owner.

“Our frien’ – he lives up thataway.” Heath pointed toward dimly seen buildings beyond some broken-down sheds at the back of the next lot.

Tom paused in his chopping. “Think I heard ‘bout this Uncle Luke. Don’t he have kids o’ his own?”

“Yep. Jonas is big, near’s big as Ja-rod, n’ then Simon, n’ Mary’s not much bigger’n me.”

“They your friends too?”

“Simon is. Him n’ me, we go huntin’ squirrels in the woods. N’ Mary, she reads me stories.”

“Not Jonas? Is he hard on you?”

“He jus’ don’ bother with me much, ‘cause I’m a li’l fella.”

“Mm. This Uncle Luke, is he good to you?”

“Real good.”

“Glad to hear it.” Tom went back to chopping. It was rapidly getting dark, and presently he stopped again. “Can’t see to hit it straight no more. Heath, you show us where to put the wood.”

“Take some in for Hannah, n’ leave the res’ there.” Heath picked up two pieces, Jarrod five, Tom eight or ten, and they filled the woodbin by the stove inside. The chicken smelled appetizing now, and Hannah was dishing up some kind of vegetables as well as a bowl of potato salad. She reached down a jug to pour a mugful of milk for Heath, and gestured a question to Jarrod.

“Can I have tea, please?” His mother would have made him drink milk, and his father was well aware of it, but he made no objection.

The food was delicious in spite of chipped dishes and plain utensils. Jarrod helped himself hungrily as the bowls went around, until he noticed that his father was taking only about half as much as he would have at home, Hannah took only a token amount, and there was no more left for seconds. “I’m sorry,” he blurted. “I took too much.”

Hannah said, “Growin’ boys gotta have their vittles.”

Tom smiled. “Good thing you were ‘spectin’ us, Hannah. Reckon we eat a lot more’n you and Heath.”

Heath looked around at the four plates. “You wan’ s’more, Pa? I don’ need all these greens.” He hesitated. Then he offered a greater sacrifice, “Or all this chicken.”

“You eat up, son. You’re a growin’ boy too, just like Jarrod.”

“Won’ you be hungry?”

“I been hungry lotsa times. Won’t hurt me none.” He patted his stomach. “Might get fat if I ate all I want every day. How ‘bout you, Hannah, you get enough?”

“I done tasted some when I cookin’,” Hannah asserted.

“S’pose so. Maybe all you cooks eat better’n the rest of us know.” He went on talking about nothing and everything, determined not to let silence fall on such an awkward gathering. Eventually he thought of the news he had not told them.

“Heath, know what? You got a new baby sister, down in the Valley. Her name’s Audra.”

“A new baby! How big?”

“’Bout so big. Sweet li’l thing.”

“Audra – so there’s Ja-rod, n’ Nick, n’ Eu-gene, n’ Audra, she’s a girl. I ‘member!”

“You remember real good, Heath. Wish I could bring Nick with me next time, but he’s maybe not big ‘nough to ride so far – even Jarrod was just about wore out, and he’s four years older. Nick’s not so much older’n you.”

Jarrod said, “Four years – Nick’s four years older than you, Heath.”

“Four years, n’ four years, make eight. You’re eight years older’n me, Ja-rod.”

“Yes, I’m thirteen.”

Heath wrinkled his brow. “Am I four years older’n Eu-gene?”

“More like three,” Tom said. “Eugene’s not quite two years older than Audra.”

“Juan n’ Conchita, he’s less’n one year older’n her, she’s his li’l sister.”

“That so? That’s real close in age – couldn’t be much closer less’n they were twins.”

“Why, Pa?”

Caught in his own words, Tom took a moment to find an answer. “‘Cause o’ their mother. So much work for a mother, havin’ a baby, she can’t do it any more often than a year or so.”

Heath accepted that, but he had another question. “Ain’t it more work havin’ twins?”

“Yeah, ‘tis that. But twins, God sends ‘em, and mothers and fathers just have to do the best they can.”

“Is havin’ a baby lotsa work for fa-thers too, Pa?”

“Fathers got the easy part. It’s their job to look after the women, and the babies after they’re born. That's where I ain't done what I oughta with you and your mama.”

“‘Cause o’ Ja-rod n’ the res’, n’ their mama.”

“Tain’t their fault though. It’s just my fault.”

Hannah had listened to this without saying a word, but now she made a diversion, clearing the empty bowls away and bringing out a plate of molasses cookies.

“Mama made these,” Heath announced, taking a big bite out of one.

“Your Mama sure can cook. Too bad she mostly does it at the hotel.”

“Unca Matt, he needs her to feed folks, but she don’ clean rooms, Auntie Martha does.”

“You like Auntie Martha?”

Heath hesitated. “Auntie Martha, she don’ like havin’ li’l brats underfoot.”

“She tell you that? Good thing she ain’t got none o’ her own, then. – How ‘bout Uncle Matt?”

“He’s nicer. Plays with me sometimes. – Spanks me too. Pa, do you spank Nick on his birfday?”

“You bet. Boy’s gotta be spanked on his birthday, so he grows up right.”

“Tha’s what Mama said.” Heath suddenly turned, jumped down from his high chair, and ran to the door. “Mama’s here!”

* * * * * * * *

Quick footsteps on the porch, and the door opened. Heath grabbed her shabby shawl. “Mama, my Pa’s here, n’ Ja-rod! They had supper with us! Did you know, Mama?”

“Saw ‘em at the hotel,” she told him. “Leave go, honey, lemme get my shawl off. Gotta get ready to go dancin’, ‘fore Unca Luke comes by. – Howdy, Tom, Jarrod, you have a good supper?”

Tom said, “Hannah’s a good cook too. Glad you sent us on.”

Heath pulled at her hand. “Mama, why’n’t you go dancin’ with Pa ‘stead o’ Unca Luke?”

“Promised Unca Luke ‘fore I knew your Pa was comin’ today, tha’s why. Aim to keep my promises.”

“Mama, you love Unca Luke more’n Pa?”

“Love you best, honey, ‘member that. When I fin’ out how much I love Unca Luke, then we’ll talk ‘bout it, jus’ you n’ me.” She shot a challenging glance across at Tom where he stood by the table. “‘Scuse me,” she added. Going into the adjoining room, she closed the door with more firmness than necessary.

Tom sat down again, looking embarrassed. Presently he coaxed Heath to sit on his knee and tell him about his childish concerns, staying well away from the topic of Uncle Luke. Jarrod sat silently on the bench, watching and listening and hoping the evening would be over soon. Hannah finished washing the dishes and picked up some mending.

There was a knock on the door, and Hannah let in a lanky man with an ugly but amiable face, wearing a decent suit and a string tie, who greeted her in friendly fashion. Tom set Heath down and stood up again, ready to defend himself if necessary.

“Howdy. I’m Tom Barkley.”

“Thought likely,” said the newcomer. “Luke Pritchard.”

Heath explained eagerly, “Unca Luke, this here’s my Pa. N’ my brother Ja-rod.”

Luke looked down at him. “That so, nipper? I’m real pleased to meet your Pa and your brother Jared.” He held out his hand and Tom took it, each of them measuring the other’s grip and meeting the other’s eyes.

“Hear you got a mine hereabouts.”

“About a mile south of town – the Blue Goose Mine. Work it with two partners. No big fortune in it, but it’s a living. – And you have a ranch in the Big Valley.”

“Near Stockton, that’s right. Run a few hundred head o’ cattle, raise some wheat too.”

“That must keep you busy.”

“Wasn’t easy to get time to come up here, but I promised Heath.”

“Staying long?”

“Two or three days.”

“I see. Don’t let me get in your way, then. I’ll just sit here and wait.” Luke took a seat on the bench beside Jarrod. “You go to school, Jared?”

“Yes, sir. I don’t think you heard my name right: it’s Jarrod.”

“Oh, Jarrod! Beg your pardon!”

Jarrod flushed and felt foolish. Was Luke Pritchard laughing at him? – But then Luke went on with more of the questions adults always asked strange children, and he answered with the usual answers: yes, he liked school, he hoped to go on a few more years; he especially liked history and literature; no, he didn’t know yet what he would do when he grew up; yes, he had a good teacher; he had lots of friends; yes, he liked to go fishing too; yes, he worked on the ranch, herding cattle and milking cows.

Luke nodded. “My older boy, Jonas, milks cows too. Reckon he’s around your age.”

“I’m thirteen, sir.”

“Jonas’ll be thirteen just before Christmas. – If you’re going to be coming here regular, you could get to know him.”

Jarrod made a sound that he hoped was noncommittal. He was not very sure of anything in this situation, except that his father wanted to be with Heath. He was especially unsure what Luke’s relationship to the family was or was likely to be. Was it possible that a woman who had once loved handsome Tom Barkley could love this homely man?

Meanwhile Tom had got Heath back on his knee and was listening as promised to a tale of Heath’s squirrel-hunting. He laughed and seemed to be enjoying the story, but part of his attention was on Luke.

In her corner, Hannah went on with her mending, not speaking but keeping close watch on both men, aware of how they sat and how they looked at each other. No one saw that the sharp knife she had used to cut up the meat was in her apron pocket.

At last – it had not been more than a quarter of an hour – Leah came back into the main room. She had changed into her new dress, a cotton print with lilac and pink flowers on a blue background, and fixed her hair becomingly over her ears. A necklace of glass beads was fastened around her throat. Over her arm she carried a thick grey shawl in place of the shabby one she had worn home from work.

Heath jumped down. “Mama! You look pretty!”

“Like my hair this way, honey?” She bent to kiss his cheek.

“Why you don’ wear it like that all the time?”

“Can’t when I’m workin’. Folks don’ wanna find long hairs in the gravy.”

She looked across at the two men who had risen as she entered, the handsome one and the plain one. Tom offered a sober face, respect with the barest hint of admiration. Luke seemed embarrassed, less sure of himself than usual, but after a moment he stepped forward.

“Like Heath says, you’re looking right pretty tonight.”

Jarrod silently agreed. The dowdy little woman he had seen in the hotel had tonight turned into a bright-eyed pink-cheeked beauty who smiled radiantly at her son. Not as beautiful as his mother, of course, but pretty enough to make his father’s sin more comprehensible.

Leah was not smiling as her eyes went back and forth between the two men. She was listening to her heart. She had been hoping that if she could see Tom and Luke together, she would know which she truly loved. For years she had believed she could never love another man as she had loved Tom, but when he had come back in the spring with his wife, she had not felt what she would have expected. Since, she had let Luke court her, and hoped she could love him enough to be the good wife he deserved. She needed her heart to tell her that.

Her heart was not being much help right now. Tom was as fine as ever, coming all this way for Heath’s sake and being so loving to him, as she had seen and heard while she was dressing and peeking through the crack in the door. He had spoken decently to Luke, and Luke had answered just as decently. Now Tom stood back, close to that handsome boy of his, Jarrod. Victoria’s son. And Tom was Victoria’s man. Victoria ….

“Hope all’s well to home, Tom?”

“Oh, yes. Victoria’s well, and we have a little girl. Audra. The sweetest baby.” She saw how his face lit up when he spoke of his daughter.

“Glad to hear it. Good o’ you to come n’ leave her.”

“Wasn’t easy.”

Heath said, “Audra’s my li’l sister, Mama.”

“Tha’s nice.” She looked where Luke was waiting for her. “Reckon ‘s time we was goin’.” She put the shawl around her shoulders. “Tom, we’ll see you tomorrow?”

Heath broke in. “Pa, can we go fishin’ tomorrow, our special place? N’ Ja-rod too?”

“Dunno. Could be too cold for fishin’, up yonder. You got boots?”

“Sure I do, but I don’ wear ‘em ‘lessen there’s snow.”

Jarrod understood that. Many children in Stockton too would not wear shoes or boots unless they had to, putting off as long as they could confining their feet in ill-fitting and often painful hand-me-downs, and making it a point of pride. Even Nick, whose boots usually fit him, still rebelled against them more often than his parents knew.

“We go fishin’ up there, son, you gotta wear your boots, and your coat too.”

“All right, Pa!”

“Better ask your mama if you can go.”

“Can I, Mama?”

“Reckon so. ‘Bout nine o’clock, you should be ready.”

“You’ll have to ride up with me, Heath, I ain’t got a buggy this time.”

“You ridin’ Tulip, Pa?”

Tulip was the driving horse Tom had brought with him in the spring. “No, Tulip stayed home this trip, I’m ridin’ Dancer this time, and Jarrod’s ridin’ Sallybelle.”

“Can I hold the reins, Pa?”

“We’ll see.”

Leah turned to the patiently waiting Luke. “Reckon we oughta be goin’.” She wrapped the grey shawl around her body and head, kissed Heath goodbye, and went out as Luke opened the door.

In the lane she took his offered arm. “Thanks for them boots o’ Mary’s. I don’ wan’ Tom thinkin’ I can’t provide.”

“Well, Mary couldn’t wear them anymore, and they were still good enough to wear again. – Anyway, I’m still hoping you’ll let me provide for you and Heath regular.” She did not answer, and after a minute he went on, “How do you feel about seeing him again?”

“Dunno. Nice he’s so fond o’ Heath.”

“Sure is a good lookin’ fellow.”

“Looks ain’ everythin’, Luke Pritchard, n’ don’ you talk like that.”

He laughed in relief and pleasure. “I like to hear you say that. – That half-grown boy of his, Jarrod is it?, I thought he was kind of sulky, but maybe he’s just tired.”

“Poor Jarrod, he don’ know what to think.”

“Confusing, for a boy. Wonder why they decided to tell him at all?”

“Worried he might hear it someplace else.”

“That likely?”

“Dunno. Tom, he heard ‘bout Heath from some fella was here couple o’ years back. Dunno who mighta tol’ him.”

“Folks do talk.” They walked on in silence for a minute or two before he went on, “It’s because folks talk, I think it’d be a good idea to move on somewhere else. The Fraser River country, if you’re willing, or somewhere else nearer here if you’d rather. Be better for you, better for Heath.”

“Stood the talk, all this time.” Again they walked a space. “It bother you, Luke, if’n folks talk ‘bout your wife, that way?”

“Hate hearing them talk about you that way, wife or no wife. If you were my wife, I’d have a right to stop them.”

“Don’ wan’ you fightin’ on my accoun’.”

“Did some boxing when I was younger. I can take care o’ myself, and you too.”

“Men fight with guns too, in this country.”

“Can handle a rifle. Well, so can you. – Thought o’ getting one o’ those new-fangled revolvers too.”

“Lotta money.”

“Not so much. – Leah, I know you’ve had to be real careful with every penny. No shame in that. But I’ve got a little more, you’ll have to get used to that.”

“Won’ go throwin’ it aroun’.”

“Leah, may I ask? Does – did Tom Barkley give you money? For Heath, I mean?”

“Las’ spring, he give me some, to keep safe in case o’ need. I ain’ spent any.”

“You going to let him give you more?”

“Dunno. Druther not, but maybe I gotta.”

“If we were married, you could say no to him.”

She did not answer immediately, and presently they fell in with neighbors and friends and whatever she might have said remained unspoken.

* * * * * * * *

Back at the house, Tom spent another hour with Heath on his knee, talking about his horses, answering Heath’s questions as best he could, telling him stories. Jarrod sat on the bench and listened, and wished he were somewhere else. At last Heath could not stop himself rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and Tom put him to bed following Hannah’s directions, in his little cot in the alcove. Heath woke to alertness again at this novel proceeding.

“Gotta say my prayers, Pa.”

“Go ahead, then, say them. Can you do that without gettin’ out o’ bed?”

Heath sat up, closed his eyes and pressed his palms together. “Mama says God hears me if’n I do this.”

“Reckon she’s right ‘bout that.”

“Please God, make me a good boy. N’ bless Mama n’ Hannah n’ Pa n’ Ja-rod n’ Eu-gene n’ Nick n’ Audra, she’s my baby sister. N’ all my frien’s, n’ Uncle Luke, n’ Uncle Matt n’ Auntie Martha, n’ Auntie Rachel.” He opened his eyes. “Is that all, Pa?”

“Reckon that’s a pretty good list. – You go to sleep, now, son, and we’ll see you in the morning.”

Heath was reluctant to let him go. “Mornin’s a long time, ain’t it, Pa?”

“Hours and hours.”

“Why don’ it seem long? I go to sleep, n’ it’s mornin’, firs’ thing I know.”

“That’s the way God made sleep. It just goes by like nothin’.”

“You gonna sleep here, Pa?”

“No, son. Don’t think there’s room here for me and Jarrod both, and ‘sides, ‘twouldn’t be proper. We’ll be goin’ back to the hotel and leavin’ you with Hannah.”

“You n’ Ja-rod gonna sleep together?”

“Reckon so, just like we done on the trail last night.” Tom went on to tell one or two stories about the trail, not very exciting, and finally saw Heath go sound asleep. He and Jarrod left quietly then, with only a few words to Hannah about arrangements for the next morning.

Back in their room, Tom lit the lamp on the bedside stand and lay down on the bed with his eyes closed. Jarrod sat on the chair and wondered if he should get his book out of his saddlebags. Before he had quite made up his mind to it, Tom opened his eyes and sat up. “What did you think of that, Jarrod?”

“They’re so poor. Can’t we give them something?”

“Wish I knew what she’d take. I told you, I left some money with her last spring, in case of need, but I don’t see she’s spent any of it. – She gotta live here, and seems she’s courtin’ with that Luke Pritchard. She gotta think ‘bout how it’s gonna look if I give her anythin’ more. He wouldn’t like it – not if he’s any good.”

“But Heath – ”

“Can’t give much to a five-year-old. When he’s bigger, that might be different.”

“Do you think Mr. Pritchard’s going to marry her?”

“Reckon he wants to. Not so sure ‘bout her – but it’d be the best thing for them if she did.”

“Best for Heath?”

“Wouldn’t be best for me – I might not see him much again. But best for him, if Pritchard’s a good man. Wish I knew somebody I could ask.” He mulled over that for a few minutes, and then laughed wryly. “Well, I do know somebody. Woman with a sharp tongue in her head, don’t like me much, but she’s Leah’s friend and she’s no fool. Gotta talk to Rachel Caulfield. – Too late tonight, I reckon, but tomorrow I’ll find her.”

“What about the folks in the hotel here? He’s her brother.”

“Don’t think much o’ him, or her either. – Might ask, though. Might ask around.” He stood up. “You be all right here for an hour, Jarrod? I’m goin’ out for a bit.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You be careful, don’t fall asleep with the lamp burnin’.”

“I won’t!” Jarrod was a little miffed that his father could possibly think him that stupid. When he was alone he got out his book, arranged pillows for comfort on the headboard of the bed, pulled a blanket over his knees, and soon lost himself in the far away and long ago. It was only when he woke with a start that he realized how sleepy he had been. He had no way to tell the time, but the level of oil in the lamp was lower than he had last noticed. He hastily undressed and blew out the lamp, and got into the far side of the bed. Now he was cold and wakeful.

How long had it been? Where was his father, why hadn’t he come back? What should he do if – ?

Not knowing the time or what to expect, surely the best thing for him to do now was to stay where he was. If morning came without his father, or if bad news came, he would have to decide then.

Then he started to notice sounds. Voices out in the street, shouts and laughter. What could that mean? He remembered that there had been a dance; perhaps it was over. She had gone to the dance, with the man who wanted to marry her. Would she be the right person to trust, if he needed help? Yes, no doubt she would be the best person, better than the hotel people.

Downstairs a door closed and then another. Two or three men together, cursing, came up the stairs and to their respective rooms. After a little, the voices in the street died away. There was still a low roar coming from the saloon across the street; most likely that was where his father had gone, and if so, he certainly would not like Jarrod to come looking for him there.

At last Jarrod heard another door close, and this time one set of feet on the stairs. This time it was his father, carrying a candle to light his way, opening the door stealthily.

“I’m awake.”

“Couldn’t sleep?” Tom set down the candle, shot the bolt on the door, and started taking off his boots.

“Too noisy.”

“Lotta folks in the street when the dance ended.” Tom stripped to his underwear, blew out the candle, and got into bed. The springs creaked under his weight.

“Did you find out anything?”

“Mr. Pritchard, he seems to be all right. Nobody I talked to had anything against him. – They say the sister he has livin’ with him, she’s the schoolteacher, is a tartar. But maybe she won’t stay, if he gets married. Or maybe he wants to get married ‘cause she won’t stay. Dunno which way it is, but I’m sure he wants to marry Leah. – You talked to him. He seem all right to you?”

“As far as I could tell.” Tom did not answer at once, and Jarrod ventured a question of his own. “Father, when you were out – if anything happened you didn’t come back, if I had to trust somebody here, would she – Heath’s mother – would she be the right person to trust?”

“Dunno where you’d find anybody better. – I trusted her, six years ago, and I still do. Leah’s as true and honest a woman as you’d find anywhere – as true and honest as your mother.”

“Maybe not as wise.”

“Well, maybe not. She’d tell you herself, she’s made mistakes – not only the one. She was pretty young then. Don’t reckon she’s gonna make a mistake if she marries Pritchard – more likely if she don’t.”

“Are you going to tell her that?”

“Don’t see it’s my place to tell her what to do, long’s Heath’s taken care of. I done her too much harm, Jarrod. – Hope you never do a woman that much harm.”

“I won’t!” Jarrod protested as soon as he understood, and then added what he had not dared to say before. “I don’t understand how you came to do it!”

“Ain’t askin’ you to understand. Just to be good to Heath.”

“I’ll do the best I can.”

“Can’t ask for more.”

“I think I can go to sleep now.”

The morning was cold and wet, drizzle changing to rain and back, dripping off the trees. A fishing trip with Heath was obviously out of the question. Tom pushed past an annoyed Mrs. Simmons to consult Leah in the hotel kitchen. It was so dark and gloomy she had set a lamp on the shelf above the stove while she cooked ham and fried potatoes.

“Leah?”

“Tom.”

“So this is where you work.”

“Can’t hardly see it this mornin’. Real nice here afternoons when the sun shines in the winter.”

“Must be hot in the summer, though. – Can’t take Heath fishin’ in this. You mind if we go over to your house after breakfast, spend time with him there?”

“Might as well. – Wanna have a word with you sometime, private like.”

“I’ll remember. Until then.”

Heath was disappointed, and tried to persuade them that it was not too cold and wet for fishing. “Fish’re wet anyway, Pa. Can’t fish n’ not get wet!”

Tom laughed. “That’s fine in the summer when the sun’s shinin’. Not so nice when you can’t get dry again.”

“I’m tough, Pa. Unca Luke said I’m tough enough for anythin’.”

“Well, maybe you’re tougher’n me n’ Jarrod. We don’t care for the idea.”

Hannah was ironing shirts. Now she put her iron on the stove to get hot again. “’S the Lord’s day. We can sing some hymns.”

Heath seemed to like that suggestion. With Hannah leading and Heath piping along not quite in tune, Tom and Jarrod did the best they could, but some of the hymns were unfamiliar to them and neither was a great singer. Then Hannah asked Tom to read from Leah’s well-worn Bible.

“What would you like to hear?”

“Oh, it don’ matter, jus’ read what you likes.”

After a little flipping around, Tom found one of his own favorites, the story of the entrance of the Children of Israel into the Promised Land. There was plenty of drama in the siege of Jericho, to keep Heath enthralled, but what appealed to his own imagination was the idea of a whole people coming from the desert into a new land, as he and Victoria and their companions had come to the Valley fourteen years ago. Life had been hard and uncertain then, he had taken enormous risks every day, but there had been such excitement and challenge as he had never known since, and he missed it.

While Hannah sang another hymn and extemporized a prayer, Tom thought about the risks he had taken in Strawberry six years ago. The gold mine, the robbery, Leah: he had risked his property, his life, his marriage, everything he held dear. Even a man who enjoyed danger, which he knew himself to be, should have held back.

And Leah? It was not like a woman, any woman, to seek out danger. Had she trusted him so absolutely that she had not considered it dangerous to share his bed?

Hannah, now quite at her ease with them, asked Jarrod to read another passage. He obliged with something familiar and harmless, and at last she ended her little worship service and went back to ironing shirts.

Tom asked Heath about the book sent for his birthday.

“Here ‘tis, Pa. Like the pitchers.”

“Glad you do. You learn to read any of it?”

“Mama ain’ had time to show me.”

“Well, why don’t we see about gettin’ you started today? Jarrod’s a good reader, he’ll help you.”

Jarrod, glad to have something to do, took Heath over near the window and started teaching him his letters. Tom appeared to listen, but in fact he was remembering. More details about his time with Leah came back to him here in the house where it had happened, and his own guilt became clearer to him than it had usually been before. Perhaps it was easier to bear because it was in the past and he was doing all he could now to make amends; perhaps he could not have endured seeing his fault so fully when it was recent.

It was hard, that there was so little he could do.

The rain came down harder. He looked around carefully, even venturing up the attic ladder, but could not see any signs of the roof leaking. That was good – but fixing the roof would have been something positive to do.

* * * * * * * *

Leah came in at last, out of breath from running, her shabby shawl and the bottom part of her skirt wet. “Comin’ down in buckets now,” she complained, spreading out the shawl on the line behind the stove, and using a rag to squeeze some of the water out of her skirt. Tom noticed with some relief that she wore heavy boots and thick stockings that had probably kept her feet more or less dry.

“Leah, is there anything I can do to help?”

“Gotta talk to you, but firs’ gotta get my bread mixed.” She got to it briskly and efficiently, as she had no doubt done it a thousand times.

He could only stand out of her way, and watch, then feel he should not be watching her, and go back to observing Heath’s lesson. Jarrod was a good teacher, patient, not pushing too hard, and Heath was eager to please him. Perhaps, too, he had already had more teaching than he admitted to.

He was sounding out words. “D O G, doeg. Wha’s doeg?”

“Dog. D O G is dog.”

“Dog! Mama, I can read! I can read Dog.”

“Tha’s good, honey! – Been meanin’ to teach him, but I jus’ ain’ got roun’ to it.”

“Reckon you must’ve been pretty busy.”

“Don’ get to put my feet up much.”

However, after she put her bread dough in the oven to rise, she came to sit on the bench by the table with some knitting in her hands. “You can sit here,” she told him, touching a chair.

“You’re still damp. You warm enough?”

“I’m all righ’, never get sick. Sit down.”

He found himself disturbingly near her, and hitched his chair back a few inches. He forced himself to be businesslike. “What’s on your mind?”

She glanced at Heath to be sure he was still absorbed in his lesson, and spoke low. “Luke Pritchard, he wants to marry me.”

“Figured that. He seems like a good man.”

“Good as they come.”

“Hear he’s got a family.”

“Two boys n’ a gal, jus’ older’n Heath. I looked after ‘em when their ma died, till his sister come.”

“You fond o’ them?”

“Course I am. N’ they’re fond o’ me, n’ Heath.”

“Pritchard’s sister’s the schoolma’am, is that right?”

“She’s lookin’ to go to ‘Frisco, teach in a fancy school there. She don’ care much ‘bout the boys, but she wants Mary. Luke don’ wanna let her go, but he needs a new mama for her.”

“That why he wants to marry you?”

“Was at firs’, maybe. He got better reasons now.”

“So you’re gonna say yes?”

“Dunno yet. Gotta think ‘bout him.” Again she glanced at Heath.

“Be the best thing for him, likely. A regular family. A man in the house.”

“Done without up to now.”

“I don’t mean you ain’t done good, Leah. You’ve brung him up the way he should be. But it’s gonna be harder from now on, once he goes to school.”

“Yeah. – Luke’s talkin’ ‘bout leavin’ here, goin’ to the Fraser River country.”

That was where the adventures were now, the new gold rush, according to the San Francisco newspapers. Tom would have been tempted to go himself, if he had been a few years younger, or if he had not had too much to lose here in California. – It would be too far away to maintain any contact with Heath, except by mail.

“You do what’s best for you and him. Never mind about me.”

“Heath, he sets a powerful store by you comin’.”

“You stay here, anywhere near here, I’ll keep comin’ if you n’ him let me. When I can, every year anyway. You go to the Fraser River country, I just can’t. You gotta decide that, Leah, tain’t for me to say.”

“Me n’ Luke.” She looked at him shrewdly. “You don’ like to think of that.”

“Another man bein’ a father to my son? No, I don’t like it. But I don’t have to like it, Leah. I done you enough harm, I won’t stand in your way now.”

Tears came into her eyes and she blinked them back. “You’re a good man, Tom. You allus was. – What we done, ‘twas my doin’ as much as yourn.”

“Ought’ve told you ‘fore then, ‘bout Victoria.”

“Can’t deny that. There’s things I di’n’t tell you, too.”

“Leah, why didn’t you tell me ‘bout Heath? You should’ve written to me.”

“Tried, couple o’ times. Couldn’t do it.” Her eyes were on her knitting again.

“I know you’re no great hand at writin’, but there’s folks could’ve written for you.”

“’Tain’t that. Could’ve writ, havin’ a baby. Couldn’t send it.”

“Were you afraid I’d take him away? I wouldn’t’ve had no right to do that, and Victoria wouldn’t let me.”

“Couldn’t do it, tha’s all.”

“If I’d known you’d feel that way, I never would’ve promised not to come back. I would’ve come back, to be sure you were all right.”

Instead of answering, she got up to do another task in the kitchen. Tom was left ruminating over what she had said, or not said. He did not understand how her mind worked. Evidently she did not see things as clearly and logically as he did. But perhaps only a woman as remarkable as Victoria could be expected to equal a man’s understanding.

Across by the window, Jarrod praised Heath’s progress and ended the lesson. “We can do something else for a while, and then look at it again to see if you remember. What would you like to do?” Outside, the rain was still coming down hard.

Heath looked around. “Let’s go up to the attic,” he proposed.

“All right.”

Heath led the way up the ladder to the attic where Hannah slept and kept her things. Some of Hannah’s things were very interesting to a small boy, and he started showing them to Jarrod, but presently began instead asking questions about Jarrod’s home and life. He wanted to know about Eugene, and the baby, and then he became interested in Nick.

“Does Nick have a horse o’ his own?” He had already asked about Jarrod’s horse Sallybelle.

“Nick’s not big enough for a real horse yet. He rides a bay pony named Benjie, that I used to ride before Sallybelle. But Father’s giving him a filly named Cocoa, not big enough for a rider yet.”

Heath had questions about Cocoa too, and other Barkley horses. Jarrod tried telling him about school, and Stockton, and the cattle, but horses seemed to be his favorite subject.

When the bread had been punched down and put in the oven, Leah came back to where Tom still sat at the table. “’Twoulda been wrong,” she said. “’Twoulda been cheatin’.”

“Ain’t it cheatin’ Heath, not tellin’ me? All I could’ve given him – ”

“Don’t matter what we give him, if’n we get it by cheatin’. – You got plenty now. You get it honest?”

“Think so.”

“It be any good if you di’n’t?”

He stood up, unable to argue any longer against her illogical point of view. “If that’s how you saw it, tellin’ me would’ve seemed wrong to you. I’ll allow that much. But it’s different now, I found out through no doin’ o’ yours, and I came to help. I’d like to help more’n I done yet.”

“You’re helpin’ all you can.”

“You spend any o’ that money?”

“Keepin’ it in case o’ need.” She shrugged. “Maybe spent my earnin’s easier.”

“Well, that’s somethin’. – You love him, Leah? Pritchard?”

“Reckon so.” She met his eyes. “’Tain’t like afore, but I reckon it’s love.”

“Then you got my blessin’ – if you want it.”

“Thanks.” She tilted her head, listening. “Rain’s lettin’ up. Better be goin’ back to work. Hannah’ll feed you – she got salt pork on soakin’.”

“You’ll be back in what, two or three hours?”

“’Bout that. If’n Martha ain’t let the fire go out.” Her shawl was almost dry when she took it down and wrapped it around her.

Tom noticed its shabbiness. “You had a better shawl on last night.”

“Gotta have somethin’ for dress up.” At the bottom of the attic ladder she called, “‘Bye, honey. Back in a while.”

Heath came to the top of the ladder and started talking excitedly about Nick and Cocoa.

“Tell me after, Heath. Gotta go now. – ‘Bye, Jarrod.”

Jarrod, taken by surprise, answered, “’Bye, ma’am.”

Tom, left with no one but Hannah, went out in the still dripping backyard and chopped more wood until she called him for dinner. The fried pork and greens were plentiful and this time he made a hearty meal. Later he found a hammer and nails, and worked at improving the little woodshed, while the boys went off up the road. This might be for nothing, if Leah married Luke Pritchard and moved to his house – or to the Fraser River – but it might help a little in the meantime. The marriage was not likely to take place while the schoolteacher sister remained.

The sun had begun to peek through the clouds by the time he finished, and Leah had not returned. Looking up, Tom saw that the mountains, dark the day before, were now covered in white not far above Strawberry.

He asked Hannah the way to Rachel Caulfield’s house.

“Why you wan’ see Rachel?”

“Wanna ask her what she thinks o’ Luke Pritchard. – Take it you think he’s all right.”

“He a good man. Take good care o’ Miss Leah fo’ sure. – Rachel, she live in a li’l log cabin ‘tween two big pine trees, up that way a piece.”

He found the place easily, not far up the road. Rachel Caulfield did not answer his knock, but when he went around the cabin to look in the back, he found her digging in her little garden. Beside her was a bushel basket partly filled with freshly dug carrots.

She dropped her spade and put her hands on her hips. “Mr. Barkley. Heard you was in town.”

“Got in yesterday, with my oldest boy, Jarrod. How are you, Mrs. Caulfield?”

“Back hurts from this diggin’, but it’s gotta be done today. Wanna give me a hand?”

“Be a pleasure.” Tom was surprised, but took advantage of this chance to get on her good side. He took the spade and dug where she showed him, while she pulled up the loosened vegetables, shook them, and put them in the basket.

“Will these last you through the winter?”

“Already got some put away. Taters and cabbages and onions too. Turnips still in the ground. My cellar keeps ‘em good till March, maybe April. Can be hungry times then, till the new garden stuff comes along. But some o’ the men go huntin’ when they can, bring in some meat, they’ll trade for sewin’ or washin’.”

“Leah and Hannah won’t admit they ever go hungry, but I s’pose there must be some hard times for them too.”

“Leah’s too proud for her own good, sometimes. But they do all right – whatever’s left over at the hotel, she can bring home if she wants. Though with that skinflint Martha watchin’ the pantry, it often ain’t much.”

“Remember you didn’t think much o’ Mrs. Simmons.”

“That woman’s got a stone where her heart oughter be. Matt, he don’t do much harm if’n she leaves him alone, but he don’t do much good either.”

“Can’t disagree with you.”

She went on to grumble about the neighbors, the stray dogs, the weather. When Tom finished digging carrots and bent to help her pick up the last ones, however, she said, “You didn’t come here to help an old woman with her diggin’. What’s on your mind, Mr. Barkley?”

“Wanna know ‘bout Luke Pritchard.”

“Reckoned you might. – He’s real decent, a good neighbor and friend. Thought for a long time, he’d never think o’ marryin’ again, after Libby died. She was a good kind soul, so far’s I knew her – Simon and Mary favor her some, but Jonas looks like his pa, worse luck for him. – When Libby died, he sent for his sister right off, but ‘course it took her six months to get here, and Leah looked after the kids meantime, saw them through their grievin’. They took to her real well, better’n they took to their aunt when she come. – She was near up and leavin’ again, the first year – spinster woman like that, what does she know ‘bout raisin’ kids? Thought then, if he had any sense he’d marry Leah instead o’ puttin’ up with her notions, but he didn’t see it that way then. Only, that was five years ago – Heath was a babe in arms then. Now he’s beginnin’ to think about a woman again.”

“More than beginnin’, if I’m any judge. He wants Leah.”

“He’d be good for her, and she’d be good for him. Be good for all the kids, too. I’m in favor.”

“What about the schoolma’am?”

“She oughter stick to schoolteachin’. Don’t know nothin’ but books. – Any o’ this bother you, Mr. Barkley?”

“I want what’s best for Heath. Even if they go off to the Fraser River, or Australia for that matter, and I never see him again, I want him to have a family and a decent chance at life. Leah too. I done her wrong, six years back. Can’t make it right, myself, but I can be glad if another man does.”

“Maybe you’re a better man than I took you for, Mr. Barkley. Maybe you’re sorry.”

“Sorry as I can be, ‘cept for Heath. Ain’t sorry he was born.”

“He’s a sweetie.” Each of them took hold of one handle of the bushel basket and carried it to the back door of the cabin. “Thanks for the help.”

“You’re very welcome, Mrs. Caulfield.”

Back at Leah’s house, he found her sewing by the window. Hannah was nowhere in sight.

“Jarrod and Heath, they went up that way,” he told her. “Don’t s’pose they can get into much trouble.”

“Mud, mos’ likely. – Thanks for fixin’ that shed.”

“You be all right here when the snow comes?”

“Allus managed up to now.” She answered questions about her garden produce and her cellar, much as Rachel had, assuring him that they could get through the winter.

“Reckon it could snow pretty soon. We gotta be gone afore that happens.” If the pass once became blocked, he and Jarrod might be stuck here all winter. Tom knew what travelling in deep snow over an uncertain track could be like, and he would not risk it for Jarrod even if he would for himself.

“You goin’ tomorrow, then?”

“Thought o’ stayin’ till Tuesday, but maybe it’s too risky.”

“That Jarrod, he’s a good boy. You gotta be proud o’ him.”

“Proud of all my children.” From there it was easy to slip into talking about the children, Jarrod and Nick and Eugene and the baby Audra, and Heath too. Finally he said, “If’n Heath ever wants to, when he’s Jarrod’s age or more, he’ll be welcome at the ranch, to me and Victoria, no matter what anybody says.”

“Maybe he’ll wanna do that. Dunno.”

“If’n he does, you’ll be welcome too, as a guest.”

“Dunno ‘bout that either.”

“You and your husband, all your children. Hope you might have some more.”

“Hope that too.”

Hannah came in with a pail of water from the spring, and Leah went to help her with something in the kitchen. Tom went out to look for the boys, and found them wet, muddy, and laughing with some other children in the yard beside the livery stable. Something about a dog, he gathered, and made himself scarce before they saw him.

* * * * * * * *

He walked by the Pritchard house, which Rachel had pointed out to him, noting that it was well kept and freshly whitewashed, but no one was outside and he hesitated to knock. Instead he made his way back to the main street and walked into the Golden Horseshoe saloon.

He had been there the night before in his quest for opinions about Luke Pritchard, and aware that the bartender there also had an interest in Leah. Last night’s bartender had shown no interest in him, but as the after-dance crowd arrived, he had seen another man, large and strong, take his place. Tom had not waited for a confrontation then, with half the crowd drunk enough to be dangerous and none of them likely to be on his side. Now, a quiet Sunday afternoon, would be a better time if he chanced to find the man in.

Sure enough, the large man called Joe Smith was in the saloon, not behind the bar but reading a newspaper at one of the tables. There were only three or four customers, playing cards at another table, with a saloon girl in a red dress hanging over the one with the largest pile of money in front of him.

Joe looked up as the newcomer entered, and recognized the man who had brought Leah so much trouble. He put down his newspaper and got to his feet. He was a couple of inches taller than Tom, who stood just over six feet, and he was a good fifty pounds heavier, though anyone reckoning odds between them might have thought he would be slower moving and perhaps slower thinking.

“You Joe Smith? I’m Tom Barkley.”

“Know who you are.”

“Then you know I’ve come here to see Heath. – I hear you’ve been good to him.”

“Come a bit late in the year, didn’t you?”

“Got a new baby at home, that’s why.”

“So where’s Heath now?”

“Brought my oldest boy, Jarrod. Heath’s with him and a bunch more kids, down by the livery.”

“Heard you had a boy with you. So how’s he feel ‘bout his li’l brother?”

“Don’t think he quite knows yet.”

“Oh, it ain’t just ordinary in your family?” Joe’s tone made the question an insult, but Tom was determined not to quarrel if he could help it.

“Only done wrong, that way, the once.”

Joe spoke softly so that the others in the room could not hear if they tried. “I loved her back then, wanted to marry her, but she took up with you instead. Heath shoulda been my son.”

“Sorry you were disappointed. But Leah could’ve married you if she wanted. Your son would’ve been a different child.”

The big man took a menacing step forward. “Get out. Get out, and don’t come back.”

Tom had two choices, ignominious retreat or a confrontation he could not win. He would still have been likely to stand his ground if there had been any principle at stake, but there was not. Besides, he was responsible for Jarrod. He took two steps back and turned to go out the door. But on the threshold he could not resist pausing to say, “I intend to come back to Strawberry, next year.”

“Stay outa the Golden Horseshoe.”

That didn’t mean much, but still – . When Tom returned to Leah’s house he told her, “Had a little run-in with your friend the bartender. He told me not to come to his place again.”

She looked worried. “Joe, he hates you. Hates any man looks at me, ‘cept Luke.”

“You sure he’s safe around Luke?”

“Gotta hope so. I tol’ him. Tol’ him to leave you be, too.”

“Did you?” He did not like the idea of sheltering behind a woman, but there seemed nothing to be done about it. “He ever keep you from marryin’ before now?”

“Can’t say so. No. He protec’s me from the rough kind o’ men, gotta ‘preciate that.”

“Would the rough kind bother you much?”

“Had some trouble. Las’ time, Joe made the fella leave town.”

“So he was goin’ easy on me, was he?”

“Reckon so.” She took up her shawl to go back to work. “You eatin’ at the hotel tonight?”

“Better if we do, afore we eat everythin’ you got in the house. ‘Sides, it’s gettin’ darker, fixin’ to rain again afore long.” He told her where he had seen the boys. “Should I go after them and bring Heath home?”

“’Bout time he was home.”

He found the boys not far from where they had been earlier, without other companions now and heading home of their own accord. Sensible Jarrod! They left Heath with Hannah, promising to see him again in the morning but warning him they would likely head for home early in the day.

“When you gonna come back, Pa?”

“Not afore spring. Dunno exactly. Next time I’ll try to stay a little longer, and we’ll have that fishing trip, all right?”

“Will Jarrod come too?”

“Maybe. Have to see what happens.”

Back at the hotel, Jarrod gave an account of what he and Heath had done during the day. “He’s a tough little guy, running around in bare feet in this weather and thinking nothing of it. Maybe not any tougher than Nick – I don’t remember just what Nick was like at the same age.”

“You were just a li’l nipper yourself then. – That’s what Pritchard called Heath. Nipper.”

“One of the Pritchard children was with the gang of Heath’s friends – Simon, I think his name is. Seemed like a nice kid. Bigger than Heath, maybe not as big as Nick.”

“He’ll be Heath’s brother, if they grow up together.”

“I suppose so.”

“You feel like Heath’s your brother?”

“Some ways, I do. He looks like you, doesn’t he?”

“No doubt about it.”

“That’s why you said, when you told me first, you know he’s your son?”

“No matter what he looked like, I’d believe Leah if she said so. Never asked her. – You said, some ways you do.”

Jarrod took his time. “I’m considering Mariano Montoya. I know him pretty well, you could say we grew up together on the ranch, the last few years, but in different houses, different parents. I don’t feel like he’s my brother. – I feel like Eugene’s my brother, though he’s too little to share much with – same house, same parents. Heath – he’s more like a brother than Mariano, I suppose we’re alike in some ways, but he’s still like a stranger.”

“Wanna come back with me next spring?”

“I wouldn’t mind. When the weather’s better. – It never gets this cold in the Valley, does it?”

“Seen it snow, so it does. But if we got stuck here for the winter, you’d see real cold. Like Pennsylvania when I was a boy – never liked the cold much, that’s one reason I left.”

“I wish we could take them to Stockton.”

“So do I. But Leah wouldn’t go.”

A gong sounded downstairs and they went to the dining room. There were more diners than the scattered attendance that morning at breakfast. At one end of the communal table sat a good-looking youngish man in a respectable three-piece suit, who looked at the Barkleys with more than ordinary interest.

“Is it you that’s been visiting Miss Leah Thomson?” he asked.

“Been visiting Heath,” said Tom quietly. “I’m his father. Tom Barkley.” Several of the other diners perked up their ears. Jarrod wished he could disappear under the table.

“Elias Brenner. Where are you from, Mr. Barkley?”

“Stockton. Got a ranch there. – This here’s my oldest son, Jarrod.”

Jarrod forced himself to nod politely in Mr. Brenner’s direction.

“So you have a family in Stockton as well as a ranch?”

“That’s right.”

“I see.” That was all, but there was condemnation in it, and in the silence that followed.

At last one of the other men said, “You plannin’ on getting’ back to Stockton afore winter, Barkley? Better not stay too long.”

That turned discussion to the weather, and they could all relax and enjoy Leah’s cooking, tonight liver with bacon and onions done exactly right.

To escape his embarrassment, Jarrod turned his mind for the first time to the problems of producing three good meals a day in this remote place. Later Tom explained to him that the hotel owners would have bought a few head of beef and perhaps a pig or two while the roads were open, and would feed them until their meat was needed.

“Not so different from us.”

“You plan on eatin’ fresh meat, you gotta take care of it.”

Jarrod understood the argument, but in his heart he felt that it would be Nick taking care of the livestock when their father got too old, not himself. – Or perhaps it would be Heath? Perhaps Heath would come to join them at the ranch when he was grown up. Well, better he came as someone they already knew than if he arrived suddenly as a stranger!

Later he dared to ask, “Do you think that Mr. Brenner had any right to speak as he did?”

“He didn’t say nothin’ that wasn’t so – nothin’ I could argue with. Could’ve been worse. – That’s what comes o’ sinnin’, Jarrod. A man that done wrong like I done can’t hold his head up like he wants to, not with folks that know ‘bout it.”

“I never knew you to act ashamed before.”

“You ashamed o’ me, Jarrod?”

“I felt that way, some, down there. But – I know you’re doing the best you can. Whatever happens, I’ll stand by you, Father.”

“That’s my boy!” Tom embraced Jarrod, and both of them shed some tears.

In the morning there was a thin layer of snow over everything, which melted quickly where the sun hit it. Tom became more anxious to get below at least the first passes that day, and spent little time over his farewells.

Leah came out of the bedroom while he was holding Heath on his knee. “Got somethin’ for your baby.” It was a little knitted coat in a soft pink color, wrapped in rough paper.

“Thanks. That’s real nice – Victoria’ll like it.” He put the package into an inner pocket, and stood up reluctantly. “Time to go, son. See you next spring if all goes well.”

“See you nex’ spring, Pa.” Heath hung onto his coat, not wanting to let him go.

“Better say goodbye to Jarrod too.”

“Yep.” Heath went over to the bench where Jarrod waited. “Bye, Jarrod. See you nex’ spring if all goes well.”

“For sure.” Jarrod drew the small boy into a hug.

Leah looked at Tom, and held out her hand. “Thanks for comin’ back,” she said. “Di’n’t think I wanted you to come, but it worked out all righ’.”

He clasped her hand warmly. It was the first time they had actually touched each other in six years, and now it felt natural and almost safe. “God bless you, Leah. Hope it all turns out the way you want.”

“Travel safe.”

THE BARKLEY RANCH

Tom and Jarrod reached home Thursday afternoon after a hair-raising trip through snowy passes where it was never possible to be sure what was under the snow, and it was all too easy for a horse to slip and fall. Victoria had not been able to see the snow from the house, but Saul Peters had come back from the high ground of the North Pasture and reported that there was snow in the mountains. As a result she had had a couple of anxious days before they rode in disheveled and hungry.

“’Twas my fault,” Tom acknowledged, his big hands wrapped around a cup of coffee. “Should’ve known better than to go up there this late in the season – one more day, we might’ve been there all winter.”

“All winter?” Nick’s eyes grew wide. “Couldn’t snow so much you couldn’t come, Pa. Must be Jarrod was scared!”

Jarrod made a grab for him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, imp!”

“Boys, boys! – Jarrod, I think you have a cold coming, you’d better not go to school tomorrow. I’m glad you’re home safe – are you sorry you went?”

“No – at least, apart from the weather. It was good to see all that.”

“What’s Heath like?” Nick wanted to know.

“He’s a tough little fellow, going barefoot until the day it snowed. – About so high, fair hair and blue eyes like Eugene.” Eugene, hearing his name, climbed down from Tom’s knee and came to throw his little arms around Jarrod’s legs. Jarrod pulled him up. “Yes, that’s right, Gene-baby, our brother Heath looks like you. Imagine that! But you met him already, didn’t you, last spring? You likely don’t remember him, but he remembers you.”

“’Member – Jawwod!”

“You remember me? I should hope so!”

“Does Heath have a pony, Pa?”

“Not yet, no, he don’t. Maybe sometime I can see about gettin’ him a pony, but no sense doin’ it this time of the year.”

Sounds came from the cradle in the corner, and Tom jumped up before Victoria could, to pick up Audra. She was wet and smelly, but she smiled at him adorably, and he kissed her several times before he handed her over to her mother for care.

Later, when all the boys were out of the room, Victoria sat nursing Audra while Tom started catching up on the newspapers. “How did you find Leah? Well, I hope?”

“Well, workin’ hard, hardly a minute to sit down, just keeps goin’. Jarrod says Heath is tough. Reckon he gets it from her.”

“Oh, not even a little bit from you?”

“A little bit, maybe!”

“He’ll be a formidable man, if he takes after you and her both.”

Tom did not comment on that. “Seems likely she’s gonna marry that Pritchard fellow. Saw him, asked around – folks seem to think he’s all right. Reckon it’s for the best.”

“That’s good! I hope she’ll be very happy with him.”

Remembering, he took the little package from his pocket, opened it and unfolded the little pink coat. “She sent you this.”

“Oh, Tom, it’s lovely! Audra shall wear it to church – won’t it be pretty on you, darling? – But how did she know we had a girl?”

“Dunno. Well, she was doin’ some knittin’ when I was there Sunday. Didn’t pay much attention, but reckon that must’ve been when she made it.”

“I wish we could do more for her.”

“She wouldn’t take any more money. Had a little private word with Hannah, left her twenty dollars that Leah’s not to know about.”

“Ah.”

“Then had a private word with Rachel Caulfield, and done the same.”

“Tom Barkley, you are a devious man.”

“What does that mean, ‘devious’?”

“It means – oh – if you can’t get what you want one way you’ll get it another. If straight ahead won’t do, you’ll go roundabout. – And you needn’t say it, I’m a devious woman too.”

“Mm. Reckon you are. Like watchin’ you get your way with folks.”

“Do you?” She wondered how often he noticed how she got her way with him. But that was not a subject for discussion.

After a bit he continued, “Leah ain’t like that. Asked her again, why she didn’t let me know ‘bout Heath. First she said she just couldn’t, and then she said it would’ve been cheatin’. Still tryin’ to understand what she meant. Make any sense to you?”

“I expect she had a mixture of reasons, and after all these years – she might state a reason that sounds good to her, but it might not have been what moved her at the time.” She burped Audra and put her to the other breast. “Still hungry? Good, just go ahead. – Or it might. Cheating, yes, that’s something Leah wouldn’t choose to do. She struck me as a very honest – or honorable – person. She would believe in abiding by the consequences of her own actions.”

“I believe in that too. I don’t duck out. Leastways, I don’t do it on purpose.”

“You believe in it for you. She believes in it for her.”

He turned a page of the newspaper. “S’pose you believe in it for you, too.”

“Oh, I think so.”

“Women oughta leave that sort o’ thing to their menfolk. Don’t want you keepin’ secrets from me ‘cause you’re worried about cheatin’.”

“Tom Barkley, have I ever done such a thing?”

“If you had, I wouldn’t know, would I?”

“Then let me say, I would never keep a secret from you that would make a difference. You don’t want to know details.”

“S’pose not.” He sighed. “You’re too clever for me, darlin’.”

“I don’t think so. – At least you know better than to treat me like a fool.”

“Good thing for me if I do.” He went back to his newspaper until a story reminded him of news he had not told her. “Seems Pritchard’s thinkin’ o’ tryin’ his luck in the Fraser River country.”

“Oh?”

“Be the best thing for Heath, maybe, to get out o’ Strawberry and go somewhere nobody knows all that story. Best thing for sure, if he has a father who’s there all the time. Told Leah, do what’s best for her and Heath, never mind ‘bout me.”

“That was generous of you. And wise, I think. – How did Jarrod take it all?”

“Wasn’t very happy at first. Didn’t know how to take Leah. But he got fond o’ Heath, gave him a readin’ lesson, and they went out ‘round the town for a while. Then – well, a fella at supper was sarcastic-like, to me, nothin’ I could say back, and Jarrod was upset ‘bout that. – Reckon he’s all right now.”

“Good. He can learn something from all this.”

“Not just him. – Done some thinkin’ on the way home. If I can’t do what I wanna do for Heath, maybe I oughta do it for somebody else. Don’t wanna disappoint you, though, so you gotta say. – Seems like, the last few years, everything been turnin’ out real well for us in business, we keep gettin’ richer. How ‘bout if we think more about what good we can do, not so much about how we can show it off? How ‘bout if we don’t build the big new house we were thinkin’ of, just put a couple more rooms on this one, and give the difference to help out poor kids? Maybe an orphanage, or a school. A scholarship to college, even.”

Victoria burped the baby again and laid her in her cradle. Then she came over to Tom and kissed him on the lips. “Tom Barkley, you are a good man.”

Epilogue -- Nine Years Later (1866)

THE BARKLEY RANCH

“Audra! Audra, go and change your clothes this minute! When your brother gets here, I want you to behave like a lady, not a young hoyden!”

“Oh, Mother! I’ve never even seen Heath!”

Eugene, already in his Sunday suit with his fair hair wetted down flat, made an unbrotherly face at her. “I saw him when I was a baby, but what does that matter? Jarrod’s the only one who ever really met him, and Jarrod’s not here.” Jarrod had been away in the East for nearly five years, first serving in the Union Army and now studying law. It would be another year, more likely two, before he came home, and Eugene and Audra hardly remembered him.

Nick remembered very well, of course. Nick had insisted on making the same long journey East to fight, the last year of the war when he was not yet seventeen, and he had seen Jarrod two or three times while he was there. But Nick had come home again as soon as the fighting ended, having seen things he would not talk about to the young ones, or even his mother. Victoria only knew that he had confided in Tom, and Tom had warned her not to ask. That left her to imagine perhaps worse things, but she had followed his advice, counting on Nick’s impulsive nature to tell her sooner or later.

Tom had aged so much, these last five years. The war, his sons’ service in it and his own added responsibilities here, had been hard on him. Nick’s return to help him on the ranch had been the only bright spot, until now.

Now fourteen-year-old Heath was coming for his first visit to the ranch. Tom had not seen him since 1858, when Leah and Luke Pritchard had taken him north to British Columbia. It had been some small comfort, during the seemingly endless years of the war, that Heath was safely out of its reach – but now he was coming to visit. Victoria suspected that Tom hoped to persuade him to stay, or at least to come back to stay when he was a little older, but he had not said so.

Tom had gone, nearly two hours ago, to meet the steamer from San Francisco. If it had been on time, as it often was, he and Heath might be arriving any minute now.

“Audra, I don’t want to have to repeat myself.”

Audra tore herself away from the window and dashed up the narrow staircase. She was a good child, most of the time, taking her greatest pleasure from making her loved ones happy, but she had certainly become a little spoiled by indulgence.

By the time Audra came downstairs again, looking as angelic as a young lady nine years old possibly could, Eugene had been twice to the attic window for a better view of the road to Stockton, and Victoria had picked several wrong stitches out of her embroidery.

Where was Nick? He had gone out to work with the men that morning, but he should have been back by now and cleaned up to welcome Heath properly. Had he taken some wild notion into his head? Pray God nothing would come between him and his half-brother – nothing that would hurt Tom.

Victoria knew Tom had never forgiven himself for the wrong he had done Heath and Leah, not even when everything seemed to have turned out as well as possible. He had seen it as just and right that he had barely begun to know the boy before he was taken away out of reach, and he had never complained that all the news they had was in occasional dry letters written by Luke Pritchard. Leah never wrote, and Heath wrote no more than might be expected of a schoolboy. They knew that the Pritchards had not in fact gone upriver to the goldfields, but instead had established themselves in the lumber business at New Westminster, making their profits from the rapid growth of the colony. They knew, too, that Luke and Leah had four children together besides his three and her one, including twins born not long before Luke’s letter about the arrangements for Heath to travel to San Francisco with reliable friends.

At last Eugene tore down the stairs shouting that they were coming, and had to have his hair slicked down again before they all went out on the verandah.

Victoria had time to cast her eye over her house and be pleased with it, though it was not the splendid mansion Tom had once promised her, only a rambling six-bedroom frame house built in various stages, with wide eaves and a verandah most of the way around. If she ever regretted the magnificent staircase and the lofty reception rooms she had imagined, she only had to think of the schools and orphanages they had built instead, to know they had made the right choice.

Here came the buggy at last, drawn by Tom’s high-stepping driver – for whatever he had given up in the way of houses, his horses were still the best in the Valley – sweeping up the drive to stop in front of the group by the door. Tom was looking pleased and relieved, and Heath was holding the reins.

It was certainly Heath. Even after nine years, Victoria had no trouble recognizing him. And he was more certainly a Barkley than he had ever been. Tall and sturdy for his age, blond and handsome, with just a hint of pugnacity that promised he would give as good as he got. Rather pale, perhaps – no, that would be from living in a country that lacked California’s brilliant sunshine. Suitably dressed for travelling, in a wide-brimmed straw hat and a neat tweed suit cut a little large on his growing frame.

He looked warily at the welcoming committee, and then a smile dawned as he met Audra’s eyes, sure that in her at least he had found a friend.

Old Buck, unable to ride since a bad fall three years ago, hobbled over to take the horses’ heads. Tom got down, a little stiff as usual these days, on the far side. Heath waited for his father to come around before he jumped down himself. He was a hand’s width taller than Victoria.

Tom said, “My dear, you remember Heath, but he tells me he doesn’t remember you. Heath, my wife Victoria.”

“Welcome, Heath! I’m so glad to see you here at last.”

“Thank you, ma’am. Glad to be here.” He took her proffered hand politely and let it go again as if unsure what to do with it. She saw that he was blushing.

“I hope your mother’s well, and all the family.”

“All pretty well when I left.”

“Your mother must be very busy with twin babies.”

“They do keep her runnin’, and Hannah and Mary too. And you wouldn’t believe how proud Dad is of them.” He caught himself. “By Dad I mean my stepfather.”

“Of course.”

Tom continued introductions. “Heath, this is your brother Eugene, and your sister Audra.” He was looking around for Nick, Victoria saw.

Eugene had already made plans to show Heath around the ranch and teach him how things were done, making the best of the brother near his own age he had never had before. He was all ready to start at once, but Audra got ahead of him with an enthusiastic hug and an introduction to the dogs that had come running to investigate the arrival.

Buck helped Silas lift down Heath’s small trunk, and led the team away, shaking his head over the young lad’s likeness to the Boss, and remembering his old friend Saul’s comment when he first heard of the matter, years ago, “Happens in the best o’ families.”

“I know you’re usually called Pritchard,” Audra ran on, “but you’ll let folks call you Barkley while you’re here, won’t you? Heath Barkley?”

“Folks can call me whatever they like,” said Heath.

“Are you going to stay the whole summer?”

“Gotta go to Sonora sometime, see a friend of my Mama’s that lives there, Aunt Rachel I call her, but she’s not really my aunt. She’s gettin’ on in years.”

“Didn’t you have kinfolks in Strawberry too, that kept the hotel?” asked Eugene.

“Had an uncle there, and his wife. They left not too long after we did, the hotel went broke, and Mama don’t know where they are now. Not much left at Strawberry, by what we hear.”

Audra reclaimed his attention. “Jarrod’s not here, he’s in Boston. He’s been in the East nearly my whole life.”

“Remember meeting Jarrod at Strawberry, a couple of times. Sorry he’s away – gettin’ educated, I hear, so I shouldn’t be real sorry. Recall he liked books.”

“Where’s Nick?” Tom demanded.

“I haven’t seen him since breakfast, dear. Probably the work took longer than he expected.”

“He better have a good reason. He oughta be here to meet Heath.”

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon. Meanwhile, shall we go in out of the sun?”

Tom made a move to help Silas with the trunk, but Heath got ahead of him. “Let me take that, Pa. – You must be Silas.”

“’Spect Mr. Barkley done told you ‘bout me, Master Heath.”

“He told me just to ask you if there’s anything I need.”

Victoria murmured in Tom’s ear, “He’s very polite and proper, isn’t he?” Was it the Pritchard influence, she wondered, or the effect of living in a British colony? At the very least, he had learned passable grammar and enunciation from someone.

“He only just got here. Give him time. – He’s a good boy, a smart boy. He always was.”

Eugene shouted, “There’s Nick!”

Nick rode into the yard at the gallop and pulled Coco up with a flourish. He had another horse on a lead, and when he dismounted he tied both of them to the fence before he came with his long strides to meet the newcomer. In his full cowboy gear, his spurs jingling, a gun on his hip, he might easily have frightened a stranger. His voice boomed, “So is this my brother Heath?” He gestured at the second horse. “Brung you a mount.”

Heath set down the trunk again and took a few quick steps to meet him. Besides the difference in dress and coloring, he was of course much shorter and slimmer than his older brother, but there was a likeness all the same. They clasped hands.

Heath said, “Will you show me how to ride like you, Nick?” It was plain that he had found a hero.

* * * * * * * *

Tom watched Heath making friends with his other children, with thanksgiving in his heart.

In spite of his past sins where Leah was concerned, she had found a devoted husband, a life rich in joy, many children to love and work for. In spite of the wrong Tom had unknowingly done him, Heath had grown into a happy, healthy, good-hearted lad with every prospect of a good life ahead of him.

In spite of all that had happened to separate Heath from the Barkley family, it was possible to hope that soon – not this year, but in four or five years more, when he would be a grown man – he would come to work with Nick and take his place in the family.

If that happened, and Jarrod was in the West again, Tom might live to see all his children at home, all his sons standing side by side as brothers.

THE END