The Wish

Chapters 8-13, Epilogue

by Katlynn

 

 

 

 

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.

 

 

 

An "alternate universe" story in which a 7-year-old Heath comes to live with the Barkleys shortly after his mother dies.

 

 

 

Chapter 8

 

Nick sat outside for about fifteen minutes after his father went into the house and he really DID try to think of something he didn't like about this new brother of his.  The only thing he could come up with was that stupid grin … but he knew that the only reason he didn't like it was because it made him think the kid was up to something.  In fact, he had to admit that his little brother was pretty brilliant in that regard.  So far, he hadn't found anything the kid had done … which meant he was good at making him think he'd done something when he probably hadn't.  He could see a definite advantage in having someone like that on his side when he wanted to annoy Jarrod.

 

He wondered if he really was doing what his father said … being angry at his father and taking it out on his brother.  If that's what he was doing … well, it just wasn't right, he decided.  He got up and, with determined steps, went back into the house.  His older brother was alone in the parlor and in an uncharacteristically quiet voice Nick said, "Can I ask ya' somethin'?"

 

"You'd probably ask even if I said 'no', wouldn't you?" Jarrod observed.

 

Nick shrugged.  "Prob'ly."

 

"In that case, have a seat," the older boy gestured with a smile.

 

"Where are Mother and Father?" Nick asked as he accepted the invitation. 

 

"That's what you wanted to ask?"

 

"Noooo … I just wondered if they were upstairs with Heath."

 

"Heath is sleeping.  I was just up there checking on him," Jarrod told him.  "Mother and Father went out onto the verandah when I told them he was asleep.  I think Father might have wanted to tell her about the talk you two had."

 

"Yeah … well … that's what I wanna talk to ya' about," Nick surprised him by saying.  "Do ya' think … maybe … that I might … well, just MAYBE … I might be mad at Father … and that's why I haven't given the kid a chance?"

 

"Mad at him about what?"

 

"ABOUT HEATH!" Nick stated as though it was obvious.  "About … what Father did!  Come on, Jarrod, I ain't a kid!  I know about … what they did.  And Father shoulda known that … a little surprise mighta come along."

 

"And you're angry that Father didn't make sure?"

 

"Welllll…" the word just sort of faded away as Nick let out a loud sigh.  After a long silence and more thought than he put into most things, he asked softly, "Did ya' know that Heath's uncle hit him?  A lot, I think."

 

"I didn't know that for sure," the sixteen-year-old shook his head, "but I thought he probably did from things that Heath has said to me."

 

"Yeah … well … it's for sure!  He's just a little kid!  And his uncle is a grown man!  AND HE HIT HIM, JARROD!"

 

"I'm just guessing here but … I'd say it sounds like you don't plan to let something like that happen again," Jarrod suggested.

 

"Aw, hell, someone's gotta take care of him," Nick gave in to the idea.

 

"I can't think of a better person for the job.  IF you can get past being angry at Father."

 

"I ain't gonna say I'm past bein' angry … but I guess it ain't right to blame Heath for somethin' he had no control over.  Don't much like bein' blamed myself for somethin' I didn't do," Nick admitted as he stood up.  "Think I'll go to bed and sleep on that."

 

"Sounds like a good idea," Jarrod smiled at what appeared to be a sudden change of heart.  But he knew it wasn't quite as sudden as it seemed.  He'd been telling Heath that it was only a matter of time before Nick came around.  Over the past week or so, he'd seen moments when Nick would start to respond to their little brother as he would to Jarrod, only to catch himself and come back with an angry retort to something the blond said or did.  But Jarrod had seen the resolve weakening and was glad that whatever their father had said to him had finally gotten through to the stubborn eleven-year-old.

 

Nick looked at him silently for a long moment before he said with a wistful sigh, "I just wish Father had known.  Everything woulda been different then."

 

The boy thought about going out to the verandah and saying 'good night' to his parents but he didn't want to get into another discussion with his father.  He still had some thinking to do before he did that.  So he headed upstairs, pausing outside Heath's door when he thought he heard something fall.  He listened for a moment and, despite the fact that he heard nothing further, he opened the door to peek inside. 

 

Heath, who according to Jarrod had been asleep, was standing on a chair in front of his open closet.  Stretching up, he was pushing a box back onto the top shelf.  The satchel he'd brought with him from Strawberry was lying on the floor and Nick didn't doubt that it had produced the noise he'd heard.  He stepped through the door and quietly pushed it closed before crossing the room.

 

"What are ya' doin'?" he demanded to know when he was only a few feet from the chair.

 

Oh, this was just what he needed, Heath gasped at the voice behind him.  The last person he wanted to see in his room was Nick!  Nick, who should have liked him but wouldn't even give him a chance!  Nick, who treated him worse than some of the kids in Strawberry did!  He was sure that even though the older boy would be happy to see him leave, he'd probably go tell his Pa and Mrs. Barkley just to get him in trouble.  All the frustrations of the past few weeks -- his struggles to make his brother like him -- his attempts to undo his birthday wish --- they all came rushing to the surface and, as tears sprang to his eyes and rolled down his cheeks, he hopped from the chair to the floor and charged towards his brother.

 

"Get outta my room!" he demanded, closing the distance between them and placing both hands on the bigger boy's chest to push him back towards the door.  "Get outta my room and leave me alone!"

 

Nick was surprised to see the tears glistening on the younger boy's face and even more surprised that he didn't try to hide them as he usually did.

 

"What are ya' doin' with that?" Nick pointed at the satchel, choosing to ignore the tears.

 

"Ain't none of your business!  Just go away and leave me alone!"

 

"Ya' plannin' to take a trip?" Nick stood his ground.

 

"What if I am?" the blond looked at him through tearful eyes.  "Ya'll get your wish just like I got mine.  And maybe some day ya'll be sorry, too."

 

"WHAT are you talkin' about?"

 

"I WISHED FOR YOU!" he almost choked on the words.  "I wished for you and now Mama is dead because I wasn't smart enough to figure out that things could happen different than I wanted 'em to!  An' I tried to change it back but I can't do it!  Not HERE!"

 

"Aw, come on, midget … wishes are just --"

 

"Don't call me that!" Heath pushed him again.  "My name is Heath!  I don't care of ya' think it's a dumb ol' name!  Mama gave it to me an' I like it!"

 

"Okay … okay!  Don't get all worked up about --"

 

"Don't tell me what to do!" the little blond pushed his brother for the third time.  "Ya' don't even like me so just leave me alone and get outta my room!"

 

This time Heath punctuated the demand with his fist.  He took a swing at Nick, landing a punch on his left shoulder.  When the older boy stood firm and easily brushed aside a second punch, Heath's arms began to flail at his brother.  Nick blocked the first few swings, not wanting to fight back.  The tears streaming down the little boy's face unexpectedly touched him and Nick didn't want to do anything to cause more tears.  Finally, not knowing any other way to stop him, the eleven-year-old grabbed one of the swinging arms and pulled him close.  He wrapped his arms around his brother and pinned the younger boy's arms to his side.  Heath stomped at Nick's feet then began trying to squirm his way out of the older boy's grasp.  He succeeded only in twisting around so he was facing away from Nick, unable to wiggle free.  His brother struggled to hold him until Heath just suddenly gave up.  His legs seemed to go weak and his weight took both of them to their knees.

 

"I just wasn't smart enough…" the little boy sobbed as Nick kept his arms wrapped around him.

 

"'Course you're smart," Nick told him.  And then, because he couldn't think of anything else to say, he added, "I saw ya' readin' that Arabian Nights book and I was ten before I even tried to read it.  Still haven't finished it."

 

"I ain't talkin' about school smart," Heath cried.  "I'm talkin' about wishin' smart.  I didn't know it could turn out different than I planned."

 

"What could turn out different?" Nick asked as they still knelt on the floor and he continued to hold his brother in his arms.

 

"I wished for you…" the blond repeated so softly that Nick wouldn't have heard him if he hadn't been so close.  "I blew out the candle on my birthday cake and I asked the wishin' fairy for YOU…"

 

"Yeah … well … ya' got me," Nick didn't understand.

 

"But it wasn't you that I wanted…"

 

"Ya' lost me on that one."

 

"I wanted to wish that Mama wouldn't die," Heath told him.  "But Mama said I couldn't.  She said I had to wish for somethin' for me.  I thought about it real hard," the tears were flowing freely.  "I thought I had it all figured out."

 

"What did ya' have figured out?" Nick was getting impatient but even he was amazed at the almost compassionate sound of his voice.

 

"I wished for a brother that I could play with," Heath finally admitted.  "I thought Mama would have to fall in love and get married and someday I'd have me a brother.  And I thought it would take a long time … and she couldn't die if that happened.  So I wished for a brother … and then she died … and … and Pa came to get me … and he told me…"

 

"What did he tell ya'?"

 

"That I had a brother…" he choked out. 

 

"Ya' sure got that wish.  Ya' got TWO brothers," Nick still wasn't sure he understood.

 

"But I wished for a brother I could play with.  Jarrod's too old for playin'.  I wished for YOU."  He took a deep shuddering breath and said, "I wished for a brother … and now Mama's dead so I got my brother."

 

"But they ain't got nothin' to do with each other!" Nick tried to persuade him as he realized what the boy was thinking.

 

Heath didn't seem to hear him as he said, "I got my brother and he don't even like me … and now Mama's dead."

 

"Heath, listen to me!" Nick turned him around and gripped his upper arms to hold his attention.  "You didn't wish your Mama to be dead.  No matter what ya' wished … she was sick and she was gonna die anyway.  There wasn't nothing ya' coulda wished to change that."

 

"I coulda wished what I wanted first," Heath wrenched his arms out of Nick's grip and slid back away from him until the bed stopped him.  "I coulda wished it even though she told me not to."

 

"Look, kid, I know somethin' about wishes," Nick said as convincingly as he could, "and I know ya' can't wish for something like that.  Ya' can't wish for life and death things.  There ain't no wishin' fairy in all the world that can change what's gonna happen.  An' even what ya' CAN wish for … well … I'm pretty sure it's gotta be somethin' ya' could do yourself if ya' really think about it.  Wishes are kinda like makin' a promise to yourself," he suggested.  "Like when I was four and I wished for my own horse.  Father told me I'd get it when I proved I could take care of one by myself.  Well, I got that horse for my seventh birthday.  So did I get my wish?  Or did I prove to Father that I could take care of a horse by myself?"

 

"Don't matter which it is … ya' still got your wish.  An' ya' never wanted to change it back, did ya'?"

 

"'Course not!"

 

"All I wanna do," Heath drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around his legs, "is take it all back.  I tried gettin' God to help me.  And I watched the sky real careful so's I'd see the first star and I made a wish to take it all back.  I done that for four nights!" he cried.  "Then Pa gave me five nickels for takin' care of the tack room and I tossed two of 'em down the wells.  Nothin' has worked!  I've gotta go back to Strawberry so's the wishin' fairy will know it's me!  I just want it all to be the way it was.  I want Mama back and I just wanna go home!"

 

"THIS is your home."

 

"My home is in Strawberry!  I just wanna go back there," Heath almost pleaded with him.  "Just go away … and I'll pack up and leave an' ya' never have to see me again."

 

"Ya' can't pack up and leave," Nick said almost gently.

 

"Why not?  Ya' don't want me here anyway.  Ya' don't even like me!"

 

"I like ya' well enough," the older boy said, still a bit reluctant to put that in words.

 

"No ya' don't."

 

"Yeah … I do."

 

"You're always mad at me."

 

"I ain't mad at ya', kid," Nick shook his head.  Then he admitted, "I'm mad at Father."

 

"Same thing," Heath sniffed, leaning his head back against the bed and stretching his legs out in front of him.  "He's the one who brought me here."

 

"That ain't what I'm mad about."

 

"Then what?" Heath wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

 

Nick rolled off his knees and leaned back on his arms.  "I'm mad at him 'cause … he didn't know about you."

 

"Mama didn't tell him.  It ain't Pa's fault," Heath defended the only man who'd ever given him a real hug.

 

"I know a little somethin' about what Father and your mother did," Nick told him in his most adult voice, "and I know he shoulda figured it was possible that … well, that you mighta come along afterwards.  He shoulda gone back to be sure."

 

"An' you're mad 'cause he didn't?  That don't even make sense.  Ya' don't even want me here."

 

"I'm mad 'cause I ALWAYS wanted ya' here," Nick finally confessed.  "I wished for you, too!  I've been wishin' for a little brother as long as I can remember!  An' I HAD one all along!  But Father never checked so I didn't even know it!"

 

"But ya' always tell me to leave ya' alone," Heath sort of hiccupped.  "An' ya' call me that stupid name."

 

"Aw, come on … didn't ya' ever ask for somethin' that took so long to get that ya' got mad about waitin'?  An' then when ya' got it, ya' pretended ya' didn't care just to take away the pleasure they had in finally givin' it to ya'?" Nick asked like it was the most normal thing for a child to do.

 

Heath looked at him in bewilderment for a long moment before he just simply said, "No."

 

Nick saw the total incomprehension on Heath's face and realized that his little brother had probably asked for very little and had been happy with whatever he got and whenever he got it.  "Okay … wrong person to ask.  Trust me … it happens."

 

"That just don't seem to make no sense," the little blond shook his head, stifling a yawn.

 

"Well, if ya' stick around here, you'll find out that a lotta things I say don't seem to make no sense.  They make sense to me … but … Mother and Father don't always have an easy time understandin' me," the older boy conceded, finally crawling on hands and knees to go over and sit next to his little brother, their shoulders touching.  "Look, kid, ya' can't leave tonight.  Get a good night's sleep an' if ya' still wanna leave in the mornin', I'll help ya' go home to Strawberry.  That's what brothers do.  They help each other.  I wouldn't want ya' to get lost."

 

"Can't get lost," Heath mumbled.  "I know 'bout the stars."

 

"What does THAT have to do with anythin'?"

 

Heath tried to figure out how to explain about the constellations but he was tired and the right words just didn't seem to be there.  So he said, "Ask Jarrod.  He's the one who told me that."  He didn't try to hide his yawn this time.

 

"Well … it's gotten cloudy and ya' can't hardly see the stars.  B'sides, anyone can see that you're tired so why don't ya' get some sleep," he suggested again.  "Come on … I'll help ya'."

 

Nick stood up and pulled his blond brother to his feet.  He started unbuttoning the younger boy's shirt and Heath brushed his hands away and did it himself, tossing it on the bed when he'd removed it.  He lifted his feet to pull his boots off, then, as he unbuttoned his pants, Nick pulled his brother's nightshirt over his head.  He didn't plan to leave the room until Heath was in bed AND asleep and he was determined to get him into his bed as quickly as possible.  Maybe, he thought as Heath's arms were finding their way into the sleeves of his nightshirt, he should take the boy's satchel with him to be sure he didn't wake up and depart while the rest of the family slept.  But … if Heath realized what he'd done, he'd know Nick didn't trust him.  And that wasn't a very good example of brotherhood.

 

At first it surprised Nick that he was even thinking about brotherhood.  But then he realized that what he'd said to Heath really was true.  He DID like his little brother … and he HAD acted the way he did because he was mad at his father.  It must mean something that both had wished for a brother.  Maybe Nick should start treating him like one.

 

"I need ya' to make me an absolute promise," he said to Heath as the boy was sliding up onto his bed.

 

"Don't think I ever made an absolute promise."

 

"It's one ya' can't break."

 

"I don't NEVER break a promise," Heath shook his head.  "Mama taught me not to say promise 'less I meant it."

 

"Well…" Nick sort of hummed, "…an absolute promise is one ya' REALLY can't break."

 

Heath rolled his eyes and let out a loud sigh.  "Whatta ya' want me to promise ya'?"

 

"Promise that ya' won't sneak out and leave the ranch 'til we can talk about it again."

 

The little boy's blue-eyed gaze burned into his brother's hazel eyes.  "Mm-kay," he finally said, punctuating it with a yawn.  Then he laid down and rolled to his side, breathing out, "Absolute promise."

 

He was more asleep than awake as Nick pulled the light blanket over him.  By the time Nick had returned the chair to its rightful place at the desk, pushed the satchel back into the closet with his foot, then tossed Heath's pants and shirt over the back of the chair, the boy was soundly asleep.  Still, Nick sat on the opposite side of the bed for a few minutes to be sure he wasn't going to wake up again.  Finally, satisfied that the blond was, indeed, peacefully asleep he slipped off the bed and dimmed the lamp.

 

He paused as he got to the door and turned to look at his little brother.  He wasn't really such a bad kid, he admitted to himself.  And with that admission, he realized he was even thinking 'little brother' as he gazed at him.  Nick knew that he'd never deny that again. 

 

He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.  "If ya' still wanna go to Strawberry when ya' think about it in the light of day, little brother, I'll take ya' there myself," he said softly before turning to open the door.  "Absolute promise."

 

 

 

Chapter 9

 

The dark-haired eleven-year-old had left his brother's room quietly but once the door was closed, his blood began to boil and quiet would hardly describe his trip down the wide, curving stairway.  As he stomped his way down the stairs he couldn't help but think that it was a good thing his mother and father hadn't yet gifted him with the spurs he'd been asking for.  He'd probably have dug them right into the steps, as angry as he was.

 

He was angry at his father for teaching him about responsibility -- but not living up to his own.  For hurting the family the way he had.  For never caring enough to find out about Heath.  He was angry that his little brother had been raised in an environment where the only man who was a constant in his life had been so abusive that the boy had been afraid of the first hug his father had given him.

 

And he was angry at himself for making the little blond believe that he didn't like him.  That he wanted him to leave.  That he'd be happier if the boy had never come to Stockton.  He knew it wouldn't happen in a day but Nick vowed that he'd show Heath that he COULD be the brother the seven-year-old had wished for -- just as he wanted Heath to become the brother HE'D wished for.

 

Nick had built up a good head of steam by the time he reached the foyer.  He could see that his parents weren't in the parlor.  Jarrod still sat there alone, now reading a book and seeming to take no notice of his brother's noisy descent to the first floor.  At any other time, Nick might have been upset that his brother was ignoring him.  But for the moment he was focused on finding his parents so his brother's indifference was met with the same lack of attention.  SOMEONE, he thought grimly as he headed for the verandah in search of the elder Barkleys, was going to have to do SOMETHING about Heath's plan to go to Strawberry because if the boy was determined to go, Nick KNEW he'd have to help him.  He'd made an absolute promise.  And, as he'd told his little brother, an absolute promise was one you couldn't break!

 

As he'd expected, his parents were sitting out on the verandah, in much the same position as he'd imagined they'd be.  His father's arm was around his mother and her head was resting on his shoulder.  Nick was too keyed up to recognize that she might be asleep as he stopped a couple feet in front of the wooden swing that his father gently swayed with his foot.

 

"DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT BOY WAS DOIN'!" he almost exploded.

 

He didn't wait for their reply nor did he heed the single finger his father held to his lips in a gesture that requested silence.

 

"HE WAS PLANNIN' TO PACK HIS BAG AND RUN OFF TO STRAWBERRY!  Did ya' know that since he's been here, he's been tryin' to undo some wish he made?  DID YA'?" he demanded.

 

His mother shifted slightly, her hand reaching around to rub the small of her back as she started to straighten up.

 

"He made a wish for a brother…" Nick related, "…and he thought his Mama couldn't die if he got his wish because he thought she'd have to fall in love … get married … and he'd get his brother somewhere along the way.  Now he thinks because he got a brother when he came here, that his WISH made his Mama die!  And he's been throwing his money into some well … talking to God … and waitin' for the first star every night so he could try to undo his wish!"

 

He took in a great gulp of air and before either of his stunned parents could say a word, he continued.

 

"He thinks if he can undo his wish then his Mama will come back as part of it.  He don't even seem to remember that she died 'cause she was SICK!  Well … I got him to sleep and made him promise not to leave 'til we can talk about it again … BUT YOU BETTER FIGURE OUT SOMETHIN' TO DO SO HE STOPS THINKIN' ALL THAT NONSENSE!"

 

The eleven-year-old took a step closer and glared into his father's eyes as he almost growled, "I've been wishin' for a little brother for a long time and I KNOW this ain't the way ya' intended it to happen … but now I've got a little brother and I AIN'T LETTIN' HIM GET AWAY!  I ain't gonna pretend I'm mad at him anymore when I'm really mad at YOU!  If ya'd gone back there just once, I'da had my little brother a long time ago," he stated emphatically.  "When he gets up tomorrow mornin' … ya'd better have figured out a way to keep him here 'cause if he goes back to Strawberry … well … I'm just gonna have to help him 'cause I promised I would.  AN' I BETTER NOT HAFTA DO THAT!" he finished at high volume then swung around and stomped back into the house.

 

Tom Barkley's arm had been around his wife throughout their son's tirade.  But as Nick disappeared into the house, Tom's arm came out from behind Victoria and he started to stand up.

 

"Tom," the hand on his arm gently restrained him.  "Let it go for now."

 

"Victoria!" he was surprised that the woman who so often admonished the boy about his loud voice would not want him to do exactly that right now.  "There is no excuse for him using that tone of voice.  It would be inappropriate at any time but it's especially inappropriate given your condition.  I won't have him coming out here upsetting you like that!"

 

"I'm not upset," it was all she could do to stifle a laugh.  "Quite honestly, I'm relieved."

 

"Relieved?" he wouldn't have expected that.

 

"To hear him sounding so impassioned about having a little brother," she explained.  "But I AM a bit confused, as well.  I'm not sure I understood all that about a wish and going back to Strawberry.  I think you've got some talking to do with Heath."

 

"Maybe I should go check on him," again he started to stand up.

 

"No," she said calmly, stopping him once again.  "You heard Nick.  He got him to sleep and made him promise not to leave until they've talked about it.  If there's one thing I know about that little boy, it's that he wouldn't promise something if he didn't mean it," she said with absolute certainty.

 

"Well … if you think I should, I'll let it go for the present.  But Heath isn't the only one I'm going to be talking to in the morning," he stated with determination.

 

Victoria took in a deep breath.  "Tom … do you think it's really possible that Heath believes he's responsible for his mother dying?"

 

"I think that little boy believes he's responsible for every bad thing that ever happened to his mother," Tom's voice was full of regret.  "And we're not going to erase years of other people blaming him with just one talk."

 

"But at least we know where to start," Victoria rationalized.  Then she smiled slightly and said, "I guess, now that Nicholas has his little brother, we don't have to feel pressured about this one being a boy."  She tried to push herself off the swing and found it more difficult than it was just a day before.  "Oh … help me up, Mr. Barkley," she laughed.

 

He helped her to her feet then stayed by her side as they went into the house and up the stairs.  She leaned more heavily on his arm as they ascended the stairs and he tried to steer her directly towards their bedroom.  But she insisted upon looking in on the little blond boy who'd stolen her heart the first time she'd looked into his soulful blue eyes.  Both Tom and Victoria approached to within a couple feet of the bed but neither wanted to risk disturbing the sleeping boy so, after only a moment, they backed away and left the room.  It wouldn't have surprised either one of them to find that Nick had done exactly the same thing when he'd preceded them up the stairs.

 

It wouldn't have surprised them, either, to find that Nick was having difficulty getting to sleep.  Their eleven-year-old son had a volatile personality that overshadowed a, sometimes, sensitive nature.  Often considered loud and unfeeling, Nick Barkley was, as his father had described him, a champion of the underdog.  His parents had known that Nick would eventually see his little brother in that light.  They knew he'd realize what Heath faced, losing his mother and having a man he'd never met take him away from the only home he'd ever known.  And they knew he'd eventually realize that Heath was the little brother who would someday help him run the Barkley Ranch.  Their only fear had been that he'd realize it too late; that Heath would have decided he didn't need Nick as his big brother by the time Nick was, finally, ready to be one.  From the outburst they'd witnessed on the verandah, they had to believe that Nick's acceptance of his role and Heath's desire for him to assume it had come crashing together sometime within the past hour.

 

It was that 'crashing together' that was keeping Nick awake.  He couldn't put it out of his mind.  His new brother had actually wished for him just as he'd wished for a little brother!  Nick had made no secret of the fact that it didn't matter to him if the new baby was a boy.  He'd made it quite clear that a brother so much younger would be of no practical purpose around the ranch.  Now he had exactly what he'd wanted -- a brother only a few years younger -- and he'd made fun of his given name, called him by a nickname he knew the boy hated, mocked his quiet nature, and ridiculed his inability to do real ranch work.  All along he'd known that the boy watched every move he made and wanted to be just like him.  But to spite his father, he'd pushed him aside and done his best to ignore any brotherly gesture the blond made.

 

Nick suddenly sat upright in his bed.  Would Heath forgive him, he wondered.  Would he let him be his big brother?  When he wasn't as tired as he'd been tonight, would he be as willing to let Nick do for him the things that a big brother did for his little brother?  Would he let Nick teach him all the things he'd imagined teaching a little brother?  When he understood that his mother wasn't coming back no matter how hard he wished or prayed … would he be content to remain in Stockton or would he still want to leave?  Again he told himself, if he were truly going to be Heath's big brother, he'd have to help the little boy leave if he wanted to -- he'd told him that he would.  He'd made an absolute promise!  Oh, Mother and Father had better come up with something to make Heath want to stay, the dark-haired boy groaned to himself.

 

He knew he wasn't going to get to sleep.  What, in reality, had been less than an hour seemed like several hours to the eleven-year-old as he tossed and turned and tried to clear his mind of thoughts about his blond brother.  Finally, having convinced himself that Heath must be having trouble sleeping if he was, he rolled out of his bed and stumbled across the room to his door.  Listening for a moment, to be sure he wouldn't open the door only to run into someone who'd tell him to go back to bed, he heard nothing and opened it a crack to a darkened hallway.  In a matter of seconds he'd left his room and found his way to Heath's, thankful that the clouds that hid the stars didn't completely block the moonlight that filtered into the younger boy's room.

 

"Heath…" he said in a hoarse whisper as he approached the bed.

 

Silence.

 

"Ya' awake, kid?" he tried again.

 

Still no reply.

 

Nick bumped into the bed hoping the jolt would make Heath acknowledge his presence if the boy was awake.

 

His brother didn't make a sound.

 

The older boy knelt on the bed and leaned over the little blond to see if his eyes were closed.  He could barely see his brother's face in the dim light but he could tell that his eyes were, indeed, shut.  No harm in trying just one more time, he thought as he spoke right into the boy's ear, "Ya' awake, Heath?"

 

"Hmmm…" he heard a soft hum from the sleeping boy.

 

"Ha!" Nick sort of hopped back, shaking the bed.  "I knew ya' wouldn't be able to sleep!"

 

"Nick…?" the blond yawned as he rolled onto his back.

 

"Yeah," the older boy acknowledged.  "I figured ya'd be havin' a hard time stayin' asleep with everythin' that must be on your mind."

 

"Is it mornin'?"

 

"Naw … it's still the middle of the night.  That's why I came in to check on ya'.  Didn't think ya'd be able to sleep.  Ya' want me to stay here with ya'?  I can help ya' get to sleep," Nick offered.

 

"Mm-kay," Heath mumbled into the pillow as he turned onto his side.  The little blond could feel the bed move as his brother laid down.  When he knew that Nick was settled in, he rolled to his back again and looked over at him.  "Nick?"

 

"Hmm?"

 

"Thanks for wakin' me up to be sure I was sleepin' okay."

 

"Sure, kid," Nick turned his head to look at him.  "That's what a brother does."

 

"Mm-kay … I'll 'member that…" Heath seemed to let out a deep sigh as he, once again, rolled to his side and pulled the blanket up over his shoulder.

 

Nick laid there in the almost-dark room, trying to decide if his brother meant that as a promise … or a threat!  He knew he'd awakened the kid … and he couldn't help but wonder if the younger boy would be returning the favor in the not-too-distant future.

 

In the darkness, Heath smiled.  He knew what was on Nick's mind!  It was just too easy, he caught himself before he chuckled out loud.  Nick would never learn…

 

 

 

Chapter 10

 

Tom Barkley considered himself an early riser but he'd found that his youngest son put him to shame in that regard.  The boy seemed to consider it sleeping late if he wasn't up to see the very first glow of dawn on the horizon.  Even before he had a tack room to take care of, the seven-year-old was often down in the kitchen when Tom descended the back stairs for his first cup of coffee.  And as often as not, he'd comment on how pretty the sunrise was that morning.

 

When Heath first arrived at the ranch, it had immediately become a habit for Tom to look in on his son each morning as he made his way to the bathroom to shave.  The first few days, he found the youngster gazing out his bedroom window.  It seemed to the elder Barkley that his son was just waiting to be told that it was okay to leave his room.  But after the boy settled in to the family routine, Tom would more often find him in the kitchen with Silas and would sometimes stop quietly on the steps listening to a remembrance Heath was sharing with his newfound friend.  Then came the agreement that Heath could take care of the tack room and, by the time Tom made his way downstairs the next morning, Silas told him that the boy was already hard at work.  It had happened only once.  In subsequent days, he was back in the kitchen with Silas and Tom quickly realized that his son was putting off his work so he could do it without being told when to stop.  The tack room had never looked as good as it did after a few days of Heath's attention.

 

So, this morning it was a surprise to open the door to Heath's room and find the boy still asleep, a shock of blond hair just visible from under the blanket.  More surprising was the disheveled brown hair on the other side of the bed.  It brought a smile to a face that showed the effects of too little sleep, thoughts of both boys on his mind through much of the night.  From the sight of the two boys, curled up back-to-back in the bed, Tom couldn't help but think that any worries he'd had during the night were unfounded.  Well … at least the worries that dealt with the stormy relationship of his two younger sons.  From where he now stood, it didn't look all that stormy.

 

But there were still worries.  From the tirade of his middle son the previous night, he knew that his youngest son wanted to go back to Strawberry.  And he knew it had something to do with a wish he'd made that he, somehow, believed had made his mother die.  But from there, Tom was in the dark and he wasn't planning to leave the house until he understood and had dealt with the situation.

 

That resolve changed quickly when, freshly shaven, he found the blond missing from his bedroom.  Assuming he'd find him with Silas, he made his way down the back stairs but knew, even before he could see into the kitchen, that he wouldn't find the boy there.  He could smell coffee brewing but the only sound he heard was Silas humming softly.  There was none of the chatter he'd come to expect from his son as he made his early morning visit to the kitchen.  For a moment, he panicked, thinking the boy might have slipped out and left, intent on returning to Strawberry.  But then he reminded himself that Nick had said his brother promised not to leave before they talked about it again … and that Nick would have to go with him if the seven-year-old left.  With Nick still asleep, he could only hope that Heath was outside watching the sunrise.

 

He accepted the cup of coffee that Silas handed him and then stopped as the older man told him, "Ya' might wanna visit the tack room first off.  Don't know what's got into the boy but he said he's got work to finish b'fore he leaves.  Then he thanked me for bein' his friend.  Is that boy goin' somewhere, Mr. Barkley?"

 

"Not if I have anything to say about it.  Thank you, Silas," he nodded in appreciation before setting down his coffee and picking up two muffins fresh from the oven.  "We might not make it back in time for breakfast with the family," he explained as he took a linen napkin and placed the muffins plus two more on it.  Gathering the corners together, he picked the bundle up, gave the Barkley servant a grim sort of smile, then exited the house to join his son in the tack room.

 

Heath was busy brushing some dirt out of a saddle blanket when Tom stopped in the doorway and watched for a moment.  Finally he made his presence known by commenting, "I surely have never met a harder working little guy in all my life."

 

The boy stopped but didn't immediately turn to look at his father.  When he did, a forced smile on his face, he said simply, "'Mornin', Pa."

 

"G'morning," the slight smile on Tom's face reflected the one he saw on his son's.  "So what has you out here so early?  I thought you decided to do this a bit later in the day."

 

He could see Heath trying to think of something to say that wouldn't be a lie.  He knew the boy wouldn't lie to him.  He might evade the truth … but he wouldn't tell him an outright lie and it was plain to see that he was trying to figure out how to reply to his father's comment without telling a lie.

 

"I guess you wanted to get it done before you leave for Strawberry, huh?" Tom asked when it was apparent that his son was at a loss for words.

 

There was immediate anger on the blond's face.  "Did Nick tell ya' that?" he demanded to know.

 

"Well, he mentioned something about it … and you should be glad he did."

 

"Why?" his anger turned to suspicion.

 

"Because … I've decided to make the same agreement with you that Nick made," Tom told him.  "If you'll talk to me about it … and still want to go back to Strawberry when we're done talking … I'll take you there myself."

 

"Why would ya' do that, Pa?"

 

"I figure if you really think you need to go back there, you must have a pretty important reason.  Do you wanna tell me about it?" he asked.  "I was thinkin' about taking a ride down to the river.  Sure wouldn't mind the company … and the talk."

 

"Just you and me, Pa?"

 

"Just you and me," Tom agreed.  "IF you think you could put off your work for a little while."

 

"Guess I can put it off for a LITTLE while," Heath decided.  "If YOU'RE gonna take me to Strawberry 'steada NICK, I'll prob'ly get there sooner … so … I guess I got some extra time," he rationalized.

 

"Alright, then," the man nodded.  He held up the bundle of muffins as he said, "It's not much but I brought us some breakfast.  Why don't you help me saddle my horse so we can be on our way?"

 

The smile that lit up his son's face at the mention of saddling the horse was enough to give him the hope that the talk of going to Strawberry was just a whim that would pass when his son thought about all he'd have to leave behind if he DID return to the small mining town.  The boy was only seven, Tom reminded himself.  Surely he couldn't have thought about all he'd have to give up if he left the ranch.  It should be an easy matter to convince him that he should stay.

 

As they rode towards the river, consuming muffins on the way, Heath leaned back against his father's chest.  His eyes closed for a moment as he thought about the way it felt to have his Pa's protective arm around him.  He was hoping the memory would stay with him even after he left because he didn't imagine that once he got home to Strawberry there'd be anyone to make him feel quite that way.  He was looking forward to feeling his Mama's arms around him again … but he wanted to remember what it felt like to have his Pa's arms around him, as well.

 

Tom's mind was also busy as they rode.  He knew that their talk wasn't going to be recalled with fond memories in days to come.  In fact, he expected tears to greet whatever he had to say to convince his son that returning to Strawberry wouldn't change anything.  So as they rode towards the river, Tom changed his mind about where they were going.  He'd considered a couple favorite spots … one where he liked to take his sons fishing and another where he liked to sit and think on a fallen tree that spanned the river.  He didn't know that Jarrod had already visited both spots with the boy.  But he DID know that HE expected to visit them many times in the coming years with all his sons.  And he knew that neither he nor Heath would ever enjoy those spots again if the first conversation they had there was about his mother's death.

 

So he choose a spot he'd never considered particularly scenic.  The fishing wasn't especially good.  There was really no reason that either of them would choose to visit the spot again.  Neither of them would be forced to recall an unpleasant memory every time they fished the river or dangled their feet in the water from that downed tree.

 

"Why don't you tell me why you want to go back to Strawberry," Tom suggested when they'd dismounted and were seated, side-by-side, under a tall pine tree.

 

"I gotta," Heath responded simply.

 

"But why?"

 

Heath looked over and up at the man as he told him, "I gotta undo my wish."

 

"And … what was your wish?"

 

The answer came reluctantly.  "I wished for a brother I could play with."

 

Well, that agreed with what Nick had said the night before, Tom thought.  Heath had wished for a brother because he thought his mother would have to fall in love and get married before that could happen.  But Leah had been sick and had prepared the boy for her death, so he didn't understand why Heath thought that his mother dying was a result of his wish.

 

"I guess I'm a little confused," Tom admitted to his son.  "I'm not sure why you want to undo that wish.  I know that Jarrod is a little old to play with … and Nick hasn't been the best brother that a boy could have.  But I think if you give him another chance, you might like having him as your brother."

 

"Oh, I like him just fine, Pa," Heath said quickly.  "It ain't 'causa Nick that I wanna undo it."

 

"Maybe … you should start from the beginning and explain it all to me."

 

"Mm-kay," Heath moved away from the tree and sat cross-legged facing his father.  "I made a lotta wishes when I was a kid, Pa, but none of 'em ever came true.  Then Mama told me 'bout the wishin' fairy.  She told me I could make a wish on my birthday just b'fore I blew out my candle and that would make it official.  She said I could wish for anythin' I wanted."

 

"And you wanted a brother?"

 

"Not really," Heath admitted, shaking his head.  "I like my brothers just fine, like I said, but I really just made that up.  I really wanted to wish that Mama wouldn't die … but she said I couldn't ask for that," he explained.  "So I thought about it real hard and decided to ask for a brother to play with 'cause I thought that would mean that Mama would fall in love and get married and maybe I'd get a brother some day.  If all that happened … well … then … Mama wouldn't die."

 

"I see…" Tom breathed out.  "And that isn't the way it happened."

 

"No, sir.  Mama died … so then you came and got me and told me I had two brothers and a sister," Heath reminisced.  "But it wasn't s'pose to happen that way, Pa.  I didn't know it could happen different than I planned," the boy looked into his father's eyes.  "Mama wasn't s'pose to die.  I gotta undo my wish so she'll come back!"

 

Tom didn't know what to say.  He was sure that, to a seven-year-old boy whose Mama had told him that his wish could come true, it made perfect sense.  But as he looked into the trusting blue eyes that gazed unblinking into his own, his heart ached at the thought that he had to tell his son that there was nothing anyone could do to bring his mother back.

 

"I got it all figured out, Pa," Heath broke into his thoughts.  "Jarrod told me about wishin' wells and the first star ev'ry night … and I tried to talk to the wishin' fairy those ways and undo my wish.  And I even talked to God about it but I'm thinkin' he ain't got nothin' to do with the wishin' fairy's business 'cause that ain't worked neither.  So I'm figuring I gotta go back to Strawberry so's the wishin' fairy'll know it's me," he said as though the solution was obvious.  "He just ain't got it straight that I'm the same boy who made that wish in Strawberry.  So if I go back --"

 

"That won't do it, son," Tom interrupted softly.

 

"That's gotta be it!  I got my wish!  I asked for a brother and I got TWO!" the boy said almost desperately.

 

"It didn't make your Mama die," he shook his head.

 

"But if she didn't die … you wouldn'ta come to get me!  And if you didn't come to get me … I wouldn'ta got a brother.  So if I can just make it that I don't have a brother … then you wouldn'ta come to get me … and Mama wouldn'ta died!" Heath's seven-year-old logic spilled out.  "Pa, that's gotta be it!"

 

"Heath…" Tom wasn't sure how to respond, "…you didn't get a brother because you wished for it."

 

"I DID!  Mama told me I could wish for anythin' 'cept her not dyin'.  She said my wish would come true.  Mama wouldn't lie to me about that, Pa!"

 

"No, of course she wouldn't lie to you, son," the elder Barkley paused, trying to figure out how to explain it without sounding like he was saying Leah had done exactly that.  And then it hit him and he said, "You told me that you didn't know it could happen a different way than you planned."

 

Heath nodded.  "That's what went wrong, Pa."

 

"Well, the same thing must have happened to your mother.  When she told you that you couldn't make a wish for her, I'm sure it's because she knew there were some things the wishing fairy couldn't do.  No matter what," Tom leaned forward and pulled Heath onto his lap, wrapping his arms around him, "your Mama was sick and there was nothing that could change that.  Nothing at all.  There was no medicine to make her better.  And there was no wish that could make her better.  Your Mama knew that … and I'm pretty sure she knew you'd want to use your wish to try to make her better so that's why she told you that you couldn't."

 

"But she told me I could make any other wish I wanted."

 

"Oh, I'm sure she knew what a smart little guy you are … but maybe she didn't realize just how clever you are.  I don't think she considered that you might try to come up with a wish like the one you made," Tom's arms were still holding tight to his son, "because if she had … she would have told you that there were other kinds of wishes that wouldn't work."

 

He felt the boy take a deep breath before asking in a very soft voice, "What other kinda wish won't work?"

 

Tom had to remind himself that he was talking to a seven-year-old boy who may appear to be wise beyond his years but still possessed that innocence that made him believe in Santa Claus, the tooth fairy, and the power of making wishes.  Although he had to convince his son that his wish hadn't come true in the way he believed it had, he didn't want to destroy those childhood illusions with his words.  So he said very gently, "You can't make a wish that changes someone else's life."

 

Heath shrugged his way out of his father's arms and turned to look at him.  Tom could see the tears that glistened in his son's eyes as he asked, "Why did she tell me I could make a wish then, Pa?  Wasn't no point if I couldn't help Mama."

 

The elder Barkley tried to pull him into an embrace again but the boy backed away, almost as if his father's touch would make his words true.  The anguish on the blond's face brought a lump to Tom's throat as he said, "Your Mama probably thought you'd do what most little boys would do.  She probably thought that you'd wish for something like a toy.  Or a new pair of boots.  Maybe even a horse.  Anything a little boy could want."

 

"I didn't want any of them things," a tear spilled from each eye and rolled unhindered down his face.  "I wanted Mama."

 

"Heath … son … your Mama knew she was gonna die soon.  She knew that when that happened, your Aunt Rachel would send me the letter your Mama wrote.  And she knew that I'd come get you when I got that letter.  She knew that, Heath," this time Tom didn't let the boy back away when he reached out to him.  He drew his son onto his lap again and held him tight.  "She knew I'd come get you … and she knew that whatever you might have wished for, I would probably give it to you.  That's why she told you about making a wish when you blew out that candle.  She knew you'd be coming here very soon … whether you made a wish or not.  And she knew that whatever a boy might wish for … I could give you.  She just didn't expect you to be so generous … and still try to give your wish to her."

 

"But, Pa…" Heath's voice quivered, "it's GOTTA be my wish that made it all happen … 'cause if it ain't … then I can't undo it and make Mama come back…"

 

"You can't make her come back, son."

 

"But I miss her, Pa…"

 

"I know."

 

"No one ever loved me like Mama did," the boy suggested tearfully.

 

"No one can ever love you the way your mother can," Tom kissed the top of his son's head.  "But even if others love you differently, they can still love you just as much.  I love you just as much.  I loved you the moment I got your Mama's letter."

 

"But I want her to come back, Pa…"

 

"She can't," Tom could only whisper as he shook his head.

 

"Maybe you just don't know 'bout undoin' a wish," Heath cried.  "Jarrod said he never wanted to undo one … and maybe you never did neither so you don't know."

 

"Heath … you can't undo what happened to your Mama.  Your wish didn't cause it and undoing your wish won't bring her back."

 

"I'll give everything back, Pa," he offered through his tears.  "I got three nickels left and you can have 'em back … and I'll leave my boots and my hat … and all my new clothes.  I won't take nothin' with me 'cept what I had when I came here…"

 

"If giving something up could bring your Mama back … I'd give up everything I own to do that for you," Tom assured his son in a husky voice.  "There's nothing that you can do … or I can do … or anyone can do … that would bring your Mama back."

 

The tears were now falling freely as Heath choked out, "I thought I'd get to see Mama again if I went home."

 

"You ARE home," the elder Barkley held the boy close and gently rocked back and forth as he tried to comfort his inconsolable son.

 

 

 

Chapter 11

 

Tom Barkley wasn't sure how long he and his youngest son had been sitting under that tree.  He wasn't sure if the seven-year-old was awake or asleep.  The boy's head rested back against his shoulder and Tom's arms were still wrapped tightly around him.  Neither had made a sound, except an occasional deep breath, for quite some time when he heard the single, softly spoken word.

 

"Pa?"

 

"Yes?"

 

"Did ya' mean it when ya' said ya'd take me to Strawberry if I still wanna go?" Heath asked him.

 

As he'd leaned back against the tree, Tom had thought about that promise.  He'd thought the boy would understand that there was no reason to return to the little mining town and he'd expected the subject would probably be quietly dropped.  He certainly hadn't imagined that the blond would still be thinking about going back there.  But he HAD agreed to take him if he still wanted to go after they talked.

 

Tom shifted his son a bit in his lap so he was sitting sideways and he could see the boy's face.  "Yes," he told him, hoping that Heath didn't sense his hesitation.  "Do you still wanna go back there?"

 

"I think I gotta, Pa," the boy looked up at him.

 

"Why do you think you have to?"

 

"I gotta tell Hannah that Mama ain't comin' back."

 

"I'm sure she knows that, son," Tom assured him.

 

"No, Pa.  She thinks Mama's comin' back."

 

"What makes you think that?"

 

"She told me so.  B'fore we left to come here to the ranch, she told me."

 

"Are you sure that's what she said?"

 

"I'm sure, Pa," there was absolute conviction in his voice.  "She said 'don't fret child … you'll see your Mama again'," he quoted in a voice that mimicked Hannah's soft Georgian accent.  "An' she really believed it so she wasn't tellin' a lie!  Hannah would never lie!  Lotsa times I heard her say 'may lightnin' strike me if I ever tell a lie'," he again imitated her voice.  "So I know she musta really believed it to tell me.  That's when I figured out about my wish makin' her die.  But if it didn't … and I can't undo it … I gotta let Hannah know."

 

A slight smile tugged at Tom's mouth as he rubbed his son's arm.  "I don't think she meant it the way you thought she did."

 

"How DID she mean it?"

 

"She meant that she believed your Mama went to heaven … and that some day … and I hope it's when you've lived a very long and happy life … you'll see your Mama again in heaven," Tom explained.

 

"I don't think I want it to be a very long time, Pa."

 

"Oh, I think your Mama does," the man breathed out.  "She's watching you right now and I'm sure she's thinking about how proud she is of you.  And just like me, I'm sure she wants to see you grow into a fine young man.  She wants you to fall in love and get married.  She'll probably be smiling on your wedding day … and when you become a father … and maybe even a grandfather someday.  She wants you to have a wonderful long life.  Just like I do," he leaned over and kissed the blond head.

 

"But … it ain't fair that she can see me … and … and I can't see her."

 

"Maybe you can't SEE her," Tom agreed, "but you can feel her.  She's always with you."

 

"How can I feel her if I can't see her?"

 

"You can feel her in your heart.  Your love for her didn't die.  You still love her and she still loves you and as long as you remember that love, you can feel her with you," the man assured him.  "And that's not the only way she'll be with you."

 

"What other way?"

 

"Well … you know how sometimes you want to do something and a little voice inside is telling you that you shouldn't do it because … it's probably wrong?"

 

"Ya' mean like slidin' down the banister?" Heath asked casually.

 

Tom's eyebrows went up as he looked down at the boy.

 

"I ain't done it, Pa!" he said quickly.  "I wanted to … but I kept thinkin' I shouldn't."

 

"And what do you suppose your Mama would have said about it?"

 

"Mama woulda NEVER let me do it!"

 

"Some people like to call that your conscience," Tom told him.  "I like to call it the voice of the people who raised you.  Your Mama raised a wonderful little boy who knows right from wrong because that's what she taught you.  And if you ever wonder about doing something … and you're not sure … you listen to that little voice because it'll be telling you what your Mama would tell you.  She'll ALWAYS be there to tell you right from wrong."

 

"I really wanted to do it though, Pa," Heath confessed.  "Just once to see what it's like."

 

Tom laughed.  "Maybe we'll try it one day when Victoria isn't around to see us," he suggested, eliciting a crooked little smile from the boy.

 

It was a brief respite then the smile slowly faded and the blond said softly, "Still wish I could see her.  But I ain't gonna ask the wishin' fairy 'cause I'm guessin' that's one kinda wish that wouldn't work."

 

"If you mean seeing her right here in front of you … no," the elder Barkley shook his head, "that won't work.  But … as long as you have her picture to help you remember … you can see her any time you want.  All you have to do is think about her … and close your eyes.  And she'll be right there for you to see."

 

The boy looked up into his father's eyes and, when the man nodded slightly, closed his eyes.  For a moment, Tom saw concentration … then Heath began to relax until a very slight smile graced his face.  It was short-lived as the smile faded and the blond's chin quivered.  He opened tearful eyes.

 

"It won't always make you feel that way," Tom reassured him, holding him a bit tighter.  "Some day you'll think of your Mama … you'll think of things she did … and you'll not only smile but you'll laugh out loud.  That's when you'll especially know that she's right there with you.  You'll be thinking about something she did … and I know you'll feel her with you."

 

Heath nodded his head slightly before telling him, "When I just closed my eyes … I was thinkin' how sometimes … when the night was really hot … Mama would sit on the floor next to my bed.  And she'd blow real soft in my face … and then I would fall asleep 'cause it didn't seem so hot," he remembered.  And then, in a slightly confused voice he admitted, "I could see her sittin' there, Pa.  And then I felt her blow in my face."

 

There was a soft breeze blowing and an occasional gentle gust would catch them as they sat there.  Tom was sure that Heath wasn't even aware of it … but he didn't doubt that its presence probably brought that memory to mind.  And if his son thought it was his mother telling him she was there, he didn't plan to shatter that illusion.  Better to feel the closeness of his mother when a soft wind blew than to curse the speck of dust it carried into his eye.

 

"Your Mama will let you know in many wonderful ways that she's with you," the man smiled as he rubbed his son's back.  "And if you ever begin to doubt it, all you have to do is look into the night sky."

 

"And I can see her?" the boy frowned.

 

"She'll let you know that she sees you," Tom told him.  "One of the stars up there is your Mama's star."

 

"How do I know which one is Mama's?"

 

"You'll see it wink at you.  We'll look for her star tonight, okay?"

 

"Think I'd rather look for Mama's star than the wishin' star," Heath's head nodded against his father's shoulder.  After a long moment of silence the boy asked, "Pa, are ya' really sure 'bout all that?  Will Mama really be watchin' me?  Will she always be there?"

 

"Your Mama will be there just as long as you want her to be there," Tom promised him.

 

"I want her to be there forever."

 

"Then she will."

 

 

  * * * * * * * *

 

 

It was well past lunchtime when Tom and Heath returned to the house.  Silas was busy in the kitchen, already preparing a roast for dinner, but stopped to offer lunch.  While the elder Barkley was telling him that 'just a sandwich would be fine', his youngest son was making his way towards the back stairs.

 

"Heath?" Tom stopped him.  "Do you want something for lunch?"

 

"I ain't hungry, Pa.  Can I just go up to my room?"

 

"Of course.  But if you get hungry, you be sure to come see Silas."

 

"Yes, sir," it was just a whisper as the boy headed upstairs.

 

Tom accepted the cup of coffee Silas poured for him then sat at the table, silently thinking about all that he'd said to his son.  He wondered if there was anything more he could say that would offer the reassurance that he WOULD someday smile and laugh when he thought about his mother.  That he wouldn't always want to cry when he remembered.

 

"Is the boy okay, Mr. Barkley?" Silas asked as he placed a plate with a sandwich and potato salad in front of the rancher.

 

"I'm sure he will be someday, Silas," Tom Barkley breathed out.  "It's not easy letting go of someone you love and accepting that they'll live only in your memories.  And in your heart."

 

"No, sir, that's not easy" the black man agreed.  "Should I take something up to him?"

 

"No, I'm sure he'll ask if he wants something.  Is Victoria resting?"

 

"She's in the parlor," Silas responded with a nod of his head.

 

"And Audra?"

 

"Napping, sir."

 

Tom stood up and picked up the plate Silas had put before him.  "I'll be in the parlor if Heath … if … anyone is looking for me."

 

"Yes, sir."

 

Silas looked hesitantly towards the stairs when he was alone in the kitchen.  He'd grown very fond of the small blond since he'd come to the ranch and enjoyed their early morning talks when Heath would share stories with him about his life in Strawberry.  He figured he probably knew more about that child than anyone else in the house did.  Recently, he'd gotten the feeling that the boy didn't expect to be there much longer.  And when he'd thanked the Barkley servant for being his friend before he'd gone out to the tack room that morning, Silas had been concerned that he was planning to leave on his own.  Then, as the man had put some clean clothes in Heath's room about mid-morning, he'd found the satchel on the closet floor and had been worried enough to open it.  It was empty … but it's removal from the shelf only fueled his fear that the boy intended to depart.  He was relieved to see him return with his father … but troubled by the subdued way he'd come in.

 

Well, he'd look in on him a bit later, he decided as he went back to the roast he'd been seasoning.  He surely did like that child…

 

 

  * * * * * * * *

 

 

Victoria Barkley was in tears as her husband finished telling her about his talk with Heath.  "Oh, that poor little boy," she was dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.  "I so want to take him in my arms and hug him … but I know he isn't ready for me to try to replace his mother.  I'm not sure he understands that I don't expect him to forget her.  I'd never want that."

 

"There's only so much he can deal with at once … but I think we took a step in the right direction this morning.  It's just a matter of time before he accepts it … and then takes the next step."

 

"I'll be here when those steps lead him in my direction."

 

"I know you will," Tom nodded.  "And he WILL take those steps.  It'll just take some time.  He may seem much older but he's only seven.  He'll take his time thinking it through and realize that we all just want what's best for him.  One thing I know about that boy … he's a thinker," the man said almost proudly.  But then with a very slight laugh he added, "Unfortunately, it's not always easy to figure out what he's thinking."

 

"Well…" Victoria smiled at her husband's comment as she was getting up from the settee, "I'll check in on him when I go upstairs…"

 

 

  * * * * * * * *

 

 

"Hi!" Nick greeted his younger brother as he walked into his bedroom.  "Can I come in?"

 

Heath was sitting on a chair near the window and looked up from the book he was pretending to read.  He sighed deeply and rolled his eyes.  Mrs. Barkley had come up earlier and had knocked and asked 'may I come in'.  Then she waited for him to say 'yes' before entering his room.  And Silas had knocked on the frame of the open door some time after that and waited for Heath to say 'come in' before he did.  Only Nick, he thought, would walk in without an invitation. 

 

"Yeah -- okay," the eleven-year-old sat down on his brother's bed.  "So I don't always wait for an answer.  Whatcha doin'?"

 

"Nothin'."

 

"Looks like ya' were readin'."

 

"Wasn't really.  I was just thinkin'," the younger boy admitted as he got up and crossed to the bed.  He slid up onto it and back against the headboard.

 

"Thinkin' about goin' to Strawberry?" Nick turned to face him.  "Kinda late to start out today."

 

Heath drew his legs up, hugging them and resting his forehead on his knees.  "Don't guess I need to go back there," he said softly, his voice muffled.

 

"So we ain't takin' a trip, huh?"

 

He shook his head without lifting it from his knees.  "Ain't no reason.  Mama ain't comin' back."

 

"I know," the older boy nodded.

 

"Then why were ya' gonna go to Strawberry with me?"

 

Nick shrugged and sounded almost embarrassed as he said, "Someone needed to be there when ya' found out."

 

Heath's blue eyes looked up at him.  "Do ya' think Pa is right that I ain't never gonna forget her?"

 

"I 'spect so," his brother didn't hesitate to tell him.  "Grandfather still talks about his mother.  He's real old and she's been gone a long time.  And HE still remembers … so I'm guessin' you will too."

 

"Pa said Mama will always be watchin' me.  Ya' think THAT'S true?"

 

"If Father says so," he sounded certain.  "But it sure don't sound like you're gonna have much fun with someone watchin' ya' all the time."

 

"Maybe it's only at night," the blond considered what he remembered from their conversation.  "Pa said I could see her if I look at the stars."

 

"Mm-hm," Nick hummed.  "Grandfather told me his mother would wink at him from the stars so I s'pose your Mama will too.  Ya' want me to help ya' find her tonight?"

 

Heath thought about it for a moment.  His Pa had said they'd look for her together but he couldn't imagine that Mrs. Barkley would be too happy about her husband doin' that.  Maybe it WOULD be better if Nick helped him find her.  So he just silently nodded.

 

"Okay," the dark-haired boy agreed with a smile.  "We'll go out when it gets dark and find her.  Come on, midget, let's --" he stopped and let out a groan when he saw the immediate change of expression on Heath's face.  "Aw, don't look at me like I just shot ya'!  I didn't mean it like I did before.  B'sides, I never really meant it bad."

 

"Always sounded like ya' did."

 

"I just said it like that 'causa bein' mad at Father," Nick brushed it off.  "But I won't call ya' that anymore if ya' don't like it.  Whatta ya' want me to call ya'?"

 

Heath wasn't sure how to respond and his puzzled look told Nick that.

 

"You're my little brother.  I've gotta think of somethin' to call ya'," he answered the questioning look.

 

"I got a name," Heath sounded confused.

 

"Yeah, I know … and it's a right nice name.  I'm sorry I made fun of it," he sounded sincere in his apology.  "But it ain't gonna do!  All little brothers gotta have a nickname."

 

"Why?"

 

"Well, you know…"

 

The blond shook his head.  "Ain't never been a little brother b'fore.  Don't know the rules."

 

"I'll just hafta teach ya'," the older boy decided.  "First rule … when Mother says wash up for dinner and I come to get ya'…" Nick waited until he was sure Heath was listening, "…ya' gotta come with me.  Father and Mother are worried that ya' ain't eaten nothin' today.  I told 'em I'd come get ya'."

 

"I had some muffins."

 

"Well, Mother's afraid you're gonna waste away to nothin' if ya' don't eat.  B'sides if I don't bring ya' downstairs with me they'll think it's 'cause I said somethin' stupid to ya' again."

 

"Mm-kay," the little boy gave in, sliding towards his brother and then off the bed.  "I'll come."

 

"Good!" Nick fairly jumped from the bed and put as arm around his little brother as they headed for the door.  "Now, the second rule," he was telling him as they left the bedroom, headed for the bathroom, "is that ya' just gotta learn to ignore the stupid things I say.  Father and Mother keep sayin' I'll grow out of it."

 

"How long ya' figure that's gonna be?" the little blond asked hesitantly.

 

"Well … Jarrod is sixteen and he almost never says anythin' stupid.  So maybe when I'm sixteen," Nick suggested.

 

"Sixteen?" anyone listening as the boys disappeared into the bathroom would have heard the dismay in Heath's voice.

 

And they'd have heard Nick echo his words of only a couple minutes before, "Aw, don't look at me like I just shot ya'!"

 

 

  * * * * * * * *

 

 

The two older Barkley brothers were just finishing a game of checkers when Nick saw Heath get up from where he was reading and look over at them hesitantly.  The little blond saw Nick glance in his direction and give him a slight nod so he started to leave the room, content that his brother would be joining him shortly.

 

His father reached out to take his arm as the boy passed the chair on which the elder Barkley was seated.  "Is it time to go outside?"

 

"Yes, sir."

 

"I'll just put this in the library," he said of the ledger he'd been working on, "and be right behind you."

 

"That's okay, Father," Nick joined them.  "I'll go out with him."

 

"Nick, I don't think you understand the--"

 

"I understand just fine, Father," the eleven-year-old assured him.  "I'll help him find the right star.  Grandfather showed me what to look for."

 

The rancher looked at his youngest son.  "Is that alright with you?"

 

The boy just nodded.

 

Tom still held Heath's arm and now pulled him near to give him a hug.  He rubbed his son's back and planted a kiss on his head.  "Don't stay out there too late."

 

"No, sir.  Mama wouldn't like that," he said in a voice soft enough that Victoria wouldn't hear him.

 

As the boys left the room, Tom turned to his wife and said, "I think there's a swing on the verandah just waiting for us."

 

Her smile said she liked that idea and she stretched out a hand for him to assist her from the chair.  It was only after they were settled on the verandah that they noticed Nick and Heath about fifty feet away, sitting side-by-side in the grass, studying the night sky.  In the moonlight that bathed the yard, they could see the way their heads were tilted back as they both twisted to the left and right searching the heavens.  Suddenly, Nick reached over and put his right arm around his brother to draw him close, pointing up and to their right.  It was a moment before they saw the blond head nod and Nick's left arm dropped to his side.  The right stayed where it was -- around his brother -- as the two boys watched the star that was winking down at them.

 

Tom Barkley put an arm around his wife and drew her close.  They both took a deep breath and let it out as a contented sigh as they watched the two boys … it was one more step in the right direction.

 

 

 

Chapter 12

 

Tom Barkley stood just outside the kitchen door, watching his youngest son. He could barely make out the boy, sitting on a tree stump and gazing east at the approaching dawn. A very thin ribbon of light, so faint that it was scarcely visible, outlined the horizon. It had been five days since he'd had to explain to the seven-year-old that he wasn't going to be able to undo his wish. That he wasn't responsible for his mother's death. And that, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't bring her back.

Five days ago, his wife had assured him that the boy would be alright in time. But she hadn't been the one holding the little blond as his heart broke. She hadn't heard him crying nor his tearful offer to give up everything he'd been given if he could just have his Mama back. It broke Tom's heart as much as it broke his son's to tell him there was nothing he could do. And he hadn't been as sure as his wife that the boy's heart would mend that easily.

As he observed his son's morning ritual, he had to admit that Victoria probably DID know more about the resilience of a seven-year-old than he did. No, the boy hadn't put it behind him. And, yes, he still had tears in his eyes when he came in from looking for his mother's star each night. He'd probably even cried himself to sleep more often than not that week. But he WAS letting himself be drawn into the family in ways that he hadn't before. Tom had thought his wife had been imagining that Heath had kept his distance from her. Now, having seen his son seated next to her for much of the previous evening as he read his book and occasionally accepted her help with a word that confused him, he had to concede that it was the first time he'd seen the boy spend that much time at her side since he'd arrived in Stockton. And when Heath had gone to bed, he'd given Victoria a quick kiss on the cheek before he headed upstairs. The tears in his wife's eyes said it meant more to her than she'd probably ever be able to express to him.

Heath's relationship with his brothers had begun to change as well. He'd developed an almost immediate rapport with Jarrod when he'd first arrived but that had been mostly Jarrod's doing. His oldest son had made an effort to do things with his newfound brother and Tom had always seen pure delight in Heath's eyes when the sixteen-year-old included Heath in his plans for the day. But he'd also seen a hesitancy in the little blond as though he were afraid if he said or did something wrong, the invitation could be rescinded as easily as it had been given. He'd seen a seriousness that only occasionally gave way to a giggle or a 'boy howdy'. But in the past couple days the laughter had gotten a bit more frequent and Heath was less cautious as he realized that Jarrod didn't expect him to know all the answers and was not only willing to answer his questions but enjoyed doing that, as well.

Tom was especially happy to see that Nick had, finally, taken his blond brother under his wing and was well on his way to being the brother Heath had wished for. He wouldn't go so far as to say his middle son had done a complete turn-around. There were still times when Tom would hear an irritated Nick say, "Quit followin' me around, midget!" But now, when he said it, Tom didn't hear the same anger … it was more brotherly exasperation. And he didn't see Heath react to the words as he would have just a week before. Now he'd just give his brother a crooked little grin and wait for Nick to take a few deep breaths, roll his eyes, and give in with a simple, "Okay, come on…"

The rancher yawned as he looked across the yard at his son and his thoughts turned to the coffee Silas had said would be ready in "two shakes". He returned to the kitchen to get the cup that the Barkley servant poured for him and carried it outside into the emerging dawn. It had taken less than a minute but Heath was gone from his perch on the tree stump and Tom's first thought was to look for him in the tack room. But even as he started in that direction, something turned his feet away from the front of the stable and around it to the paddock in the back. Something told him that his youngest son was paying an early morning visit to the stallion he'd become fascinated with.

Tom wasn't sure what he was going to do with the still-wild steed but the ranch hands hadn't done anything to tame it so he'd told Duke to put the stallion in the half-acre paddock and put the men to work on the rest of the horses that had been brought in. He stopped as he rounded the stable and saw Heath standing outside the fence that enclosed the grassy area. The boy was looking through the fence and the stallion was calmly trotting in his direction. Tom watched, in amazement, as the horse hung his head over the fence and allowed Heath to reach up and rub his nose. Only when the rancher moved and made his presence known did the horse toss his head and back away from the fence.

Heath turned around to see who was approaching then leaned back against the fence as he said, "'Mornin', Pa."

"Good morning. Looks like you've made yourself a friend."

"He's a mighty fine horse, Pa," the boy offered his opinion. "I been callin' him 'Midnight' on accounta he's almost black."

"That's a good name for him."

"I promised Jarrod I wouldn't go inside the fence 'less ya' said I could," the youngster said a bit hopefully.

Tom laughed. "Well, I'm not saying that you can! It's not safe to go in there."

"He's just lookin' for a friend, Pa. He wouldn't hurt me."

"I still think you're a mite small to be going in there. But," he said as he could see that the horse had stepped closer and was nuzzling the boy's back between the fence boards, "I don't think there'd be any harm in you sitting up on the fence … as long as you ONLY do it when I'm here next to you."

The elder Barkley set his coffee cup on one of the fence posts and lifted his son up to sit on the top rail of the enclosure, holding him at the waist just in case he needed to remove him quickly. But the horse couldn't have been gentler as it now nudged Heath in the chest and the boy patted its neck and rubbed its nose.

"Do you think he'd mind if I got up there next to you?" Tom asked as he began climbing over the rails to sit next to his son.

"Ya' ain't thinkin' of ridin' him … are ya', Pa? 'Cause I ain't sure he'd like that," Heath looked over at him as his father put an arm around him.

With a slight laugh, Tom Barkley said, "I'm a bit old for that. I'll leave it to the younger men to break him."

The boy took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. "That don't seem a fittin' word, Pa."

"What's that? You mean 'old'?" the man smiled as he thought his blond son was paying him a compliment.

Heath glanced at him again and, seeing the smile, said, "Well … ya' ain't old, Pa, but … that ain't the word I meant."

"Oh?"

"I meant 'break'," the boy confessed and then went on to explain, "Most things ain't no good once ya' break 'em."

"It doesn't mean the same when you're talking about breaking a horse."

"I think it does, Pa. They ain't got the same look in their eyes once ya' break 'em."

"I understand what you're saying, son," Tom assured him, "but we just don't have the time to gentle the horses that we bring in. We need to put 'em to work as soon as we can and riding 'em is the fastest way to do that."

"Midnight would be a good horse for you, Pa … if ya' gentle him. He'd be your friend for life," Heath suggested, not wanting to see the men attempt to break the stallion again. His blue eyes were unblinking as he stared up into his father's equally blue eyes and said again, "He's just lookin' for a friend."

"Maybe you're right about that," the man agreed, rubbing his son's back. If it meant so much to the boy, he figured it was worth thinking about. And he had to admit that it WAS one of the finest looking wild horses they'd ever brought it. "I'll give it some thought," he nodded. "And you know what else I've been thinking about? I've been thinking it's time we get YOU a horse."

Heath had still been looking up at his father and his eyes grew wide as he suddenly seemed to stop breathing.

"Take a breath, boy!" Tom laughed. "Don't want you passing out and falling off the fence. Might not make it over to Mike O'Malley's if you do that."

The breath came in a gasped, "Oh, Pa! Can I really have a horse of my own!"

"We'll go over to Mike's after lunch and pick one out," Tom told him. "Right now," he swung his legs back over the fence and slid to the ground, "we've both got work to do."

He lifted Heath off the fence and set him on his feet, giving him the chance to say good-bye to the stallion before turning to go. He was caught off-guard by the arms that were suddenly wrapped around his waist from behind and it was a moment before he took the small pair of hands in his own. Then he turned and went down on one knee to put his arms around the little boy.

"I'll take good care of it, Pa," he heard the softly spoken promise.

"I know you will," Tom assured him.

In fact, the rancher thought the horse would probably be looked after better than any horse that had ever resided on the Barkley Ranch. Not that Barkley horses weren't well taken care of; there was no doubt that they were. But it was by men … and boys … for whom horses were a part of their everyday life. Not by a boy who'd gotten a job at the livery when he was only six just so he could be near them. Tom had to figure that any horse given to his youngest son would get more attention than most. He felt the small hand that was placed in his as they started to walk back to the house and he gave it a light squeeze before smiling down at his blond son.

Heath looked up at him and asked, "Did ya' see the sunrise, Pa?"

"I did," Tom confirmed.

"Did ya' see that color that looks like the roses in the garden?"

Tom nodded.

"That was Mama's favorite color. She told me that I should think about her smilin' at me any time I see that color."

"When did she tell you that?" Tom wondered, thinking it might have been one of the ways Leah had tried to prepare her son for her death.

"When I was a kid … maybe when I was five."

Tom started laughing as he reached down to swing the seven-year-old up into his arms. "You're still a kid," he tickled the little boy's ribs. "And a mighty fine one, at that."

Through his giggles, Heath asked, "What's your favorite color, Pa?"

"I'm kinda partial to the dark blue that you see in the sky right after sunset -- that color just before the sky turns black and the stars come out."

Heath put an arm around his father's shoulders as he rested easy on the man's arm. He let out a deep sigh as he said, "Any time I see that color … I'll think about ya' holdin' me just like this. Mm-kay?"

Tom could only nod his head, not trusting his voice to respond to the almost hesitant question. He kissed the boy's cheek and just nodded again as he contentedly carried his son back to the house.

 

  * * * * * * * *

 

 

Later that night…

Less than a week before, Tom Barkley might have panicked if he'd stopped in his youngest son's room and found him gone when he should have been soundly asleep. He might have thought the boy had left the ranch, intent on returning to Strawberry. But tonight he had no doubt where he'd find the boy.

He couldn't help smiling as he thought of the afternoon visit he'd paid to the ranch of Mike O'Malley with Nick and Heath. The two men had listened in amusement as the two boys had discussed the finer points of the various ponies Mike offered for sale. Heath had been standing on his toes on the lowest rail of the corral fence so he could see over the top rail and Nick, standing next to him, had an arm protectively around him to keep him from falling. In the end, Mike had saddled two ponies that the boys picked out for Heath to ride and the younger boy had finally chosen one whose color was indistinguishable from the stallion he'd been calling 'Midnight'.

They'd borrowed a saddle so Heath, who'd ridden to the O'Malley Ranch sitting in front of his father, could ride the pony back to the ranch. The elder Barkley had barely taken his eyes off his son throughout the ride home. It wasn't concern -- the seven-year-old took to riding a horse like he was born to it. It was the pure joy he'd seen on the blond's face that kept drawing his eyes back to him. And the boy's smile didn't fade as they stopped in front of the house so the rest of the family could see his new horse. Nor as he stood in a stall, between the ones his father's and brother's horses were in, and brushed the pony.

"How long ya' gonna stand there brushin' her?" Nick had demanded as he stood, hands on hips, outside the small box. "She'll be bald if ya' keep it up much longer!"

"A cowboy's gotta take care of his horse," Heath had echoed what their father had told him, "or they ain't truly partners."

"Aw, come on! Ya' ain't…"

"NICK!" Tom had warned.

Nick had looked over to where he sat, patiently, on a hay bale waiting for his youngest son to finish. The eleven-year-old took a deep breath, thought about his words for a moment, then said to his younger brother, "I was just gonna say … ya' ain't … done a bad job of it already. She's a lucky horse to have ya' lookin' after her."

He'd walked over to sit next to his father, who patted him on the back then draped his arm over his shoulders and softly reminded him, "You did the same thing when you were his age."

With a sigh, the dark-haired boy had just nodded … and silently wondered how his parents had ever managed to get through his seventh year.

Now, as Tom descended the back stairs after finding the blond absent from his room, he knew exactly where to look for him. He exited the kitchen and crossed the yard to the stable with no doubt in his mind that the boy would be there. He lit a lantern and smiled as it illuminated the large room. Heath was curled up, asleep on the same hay bale Tom had used earlier in the day as he waited for the boy to finish brushing his pony. The rancher tried to lift him gently but startled him awake as he picked him up then sat down where the boy had lain, cradling him in his arms.

He let Heath wake up a bit more before he said, "I'm guessing this hay bale isn't nearly as comfortable as your bed … but I suppose I'd rather see you out here with your pony than to have her inside with you."

A crooked little smile tugged at Heath's mouth as he rubbed his eyes. "Might get her up the stairs pretty easy," he suggested, "but she prob'ly wouldn't do so good walkin' down 'em."

Both laughed at the picture that brought to mind.

"Pa?" the boy looked up at him.

"Hmmm?"

"Do ya' think she knows she's mine?"

Tom looked over at the stall where the small horse stood watching them. "I don't know if she KNOWS … but I'll bet she HOPES she is."

Again, the crooked smile from his son brought a twin smile to Tom's face.

"I've been tryin' to think of a name for her," Heath told him. "Ain't settled on one yet but I've got a couple I'm thinkin' about."

He didn't elaborate so Tom asked what the names were.

"One is Ebony."

"Ebony?"

"It's a color … well, it's a kinda wood too."

"I know that," Tom nodded. "How do YOU know that?"

"I looked it up."

Sometimes getting information out of his son was like pulling teeth, Tom thought as he had to ask, "What made you look it up?"

"It was in the book Jarrod gave me to read. The Arabian Nights. There was a story 'bout an ebony horse that someone gave to the king. I didn't know what that was so I looked it up," Heath explained. "Only thing is … I think it's a good name but I ain't too sure 'bout the guy who gave the horse to the king. There were too many big words in the story so I didn't read it all … but … I don't think he was very good so maybe it AIN'T a good name."

"What other name are you considering?"

"Twilight."

"How'd you come up with that?"

"Mama told me the word. It was in a poem she read to me. Ain't that the time of day that you like the color of the sky?" the boy yawned.

"Yeah," Tom rubbed his back, "that's the time of day."

"I can't thinka nothin' wrong with that name," another yawn punctuated the statement as the boy rested his head against his father's chest. "I've been hoping she'd help me decide … but she ain't said a word since I came out here. Maybe I just ain't come up with the right name yet."

"Well, you have plenty of time to think about it," Tom assured him, "but for now, you need to get to bed or you'll fall asleep in church tomorrow. And the minister doesn't take kindly to people who snore during his sermon."

He stood up and crossed to the pony's stall to let his son say 'good night' before shifting him in his arms so the boy could rest his head on his father's shoulder. The little blond was almost asleep as they left the stable and soundly slumbering by the time they got to the back door. Tom's thoughts, as he carried him up the back stairway, again turned to the resilience of the seven-year-old.

He could think of several times that Heath had mentioned his mother that day and no tears accompanied his words. He HAD seen tears when the boy had come in after looking for his mother's star and his voice had been a bit shaky as he climbed into his father's lap and said, "I told Mama about my new horse. But she prob'ly already knew … don't ya' think?"

"I suppose that's possible. But I'm sure she was happy to hear about it from you."

Heath had settled back against the man's chest and told him, "I closed my eyes and I saw her smilin'."

Tom looked over at his wife and had seen HER smiling. They were so lucky, he knew, that she was content to let things happen in their own time.

He had that same thought again as he laid Heath in his bed after carrying him in from the stable. Neither had expected the little boy to fall into the immediate habit of calling Victoria 'Mother' when he'd arrived at the ranch … but both knew it would happen.

Some day.

In its own time.

When Heath was ready.

 

 

Chapter 13

 

Five days later…

 

It was the perfect opportunity!  Dr. Merar had arrived about ten minutes before and they expected to have at least another ten minutes before he exited the master bedroom.  Three pairs of feet crept up the stairs and stopped at the first landing.

 

"I'll make sure they're still talking," Nick said with uncharacteristic quiet, "and that we've got time."  He started towards his parents' bedroom door then turned back to warn his younger brother, "I can see it in your eyes!  Don't you DARE start laughin' and give us away!"

 

The oldest wrapped his hand around the youngest's mouth and said, "Go on, Nick.  Check it out.  Make sure they're still busy."

 

The eleven-year-old crept up to the door, listened for a moment, and then returned to the two waiting for him.  "Couldn't exactly hear what they were sayin' but they're still talkin'.  If we're gonna do it, we'd better do it fast."

 

"I wanna go first," the little blond said as the hand came away from his mouth.

 

"No, I'm going first," Nick argued.  "I'm the one who checked the door."

 

"You're both wrong," the third member of the group said.  "I'm going first.  My legs are long enough that I can stop myself on the stairs before I hit the post at the end.  And then I'll be there to catch the two of you.  Heath'll follow me and you're last," he looked at Nick.

 

"Why am I last?"

 

"Because Heath will need your help getting onto the banister but you can get on yourself.   So you've gotta help him first … and then you can follow him."

 

"Okay…" Nick groaned, knowing he was right.

 

The small blond was beside himself!  He'd wanted to slide down that banister from the first moment he saw it and now he was only seconds away from realizing his dream.  He couldn't help applauding as the first trip down the railing looked to be every bit as much fun as he'd imagined it to be.  So anxious was he to make the trip himself that he probably COULD have gotten onto the banister without his brother's help.  But Nick made sure he was balanced and that there were ready hands at the bottom to catch him before he let him go.

 

He felt like he was flying!  A trip that took only a few moments conjured images in his mind of soaring like an eagle!  Of floating high above the earth on a cloud!  Of gliding like a leaf blowing in the wind!  And then two hands caught him and lifted him off the banister and his arms encircled the strong shoulders as he breathlessly whispered, "Thank you."

 

It was a moment before Heath was lowered to the floor and two pairs of eyes looked up towards the head of the stairs where Nick was just swinging his leg over the banister.  He shifted himself a bit for balance and had just let go and begun his journey when a voice demanded, "Nicholas Barkley!  What are you doing!"

 

There was no stopping once he'd let go … at least not until he got to the bottom and the same pair of hands caught him.  As Nick swung his leg over the banister, Victoria Barkley -- with Dr. Howard Merar at her side -- could be seen at the upstairs railing.

 

"Thomas Barkley!" she was surprised to see her husband catching Nick when the boy reached the bottom of the banister.  "WHAT are you encouraging these boys to do?"

 

"Now, Victoria, don't get all upset," Tom said calmly.  "Every boy wants to slide down a banister once in their life.  It was actually quite fun."

 

"You, too!"

 

He seemed almost embarrassed to admit it when he said with a shrug, "I've never done it before.  And at least the boys asked my permission … and they've promised not to do it ever again.  Isn't that right boys?"

 

They both agreed with vigorous, silent nods before he shooed them off towards the kitchen and rounded the banister to ascend the stairs.

 

"All's well?" he asked of Dr. Merar's visit.

 

"Everything is fine, Tom," the man responded.  "I'd say you'll be welcoming another member of the family is just a matter of days."

 

"Shouldn't she be lying down then?" Tom wondered.

 

Victoria laughed as Howard Merar was telling him, "I'm sure if Victoria needs to lie down, she'll do that.  She's already had three children, Tom," the doctor reminded him, patting his arm.  "I think she's the best judge of whether or not she should be resting.  But…" he joked, "…she should probably refrain from sliding down banisters for the present."

 

"Tom…" she groaned as the subject was revived, "…how could you?"

 

"It was just one of those things that you HAVE to let your kids do … just once.  I'll tell you all about it after I get you downstairs and have Silas bring you some tea.  Howard, would you like to join me for a drink?"

 

"Yes, I'd like to … but, no, I can't.  I have two more patients to visit before I head back to town.  But hold it in reserve and we'll toast the birth in a few days."

 

Both men escorted Victoria to the parlor and saw her settled in her favorite chair before Tom walked the doctor to the door.  He asked Silas to bring his wife some tea before returning to the room and lowering himself into HIS favorite chair.

 

"Now, about the banister…?" she looked at him with her eyebrows raised questioningly.

 

"Well, you see," Tom breathed out, "it all started when Heath and I had that talk down by the river…"

 

 

  * * * * * * * *

 

 

Three days later…

 

Unlike a few days before, the three pairs of feet that climbed the stairs were all noisily trying to be the first to the top.  The oldest this time was Jarrod and he, of course, won.  Nick wasn't far behind his older brother and Heath, hurrying as fast as seven-year-old legs could carry him, brought up the rear.  Tom Barkley was waiting at the top of the stairs for his sons to join him and was doing his best to quiet the two oldest as Heath reached them.  The little boy was just in time to hear Jarrod's breathless question.

 

"Is a boy or a girl!" he demanded to know.

 

"Why don't you all come into our bedroom and find out," Tom declined to provide an answer.

 

"Me, too?" Heath asked timidly, unsure if Mrs. Barkley would want him in her bedroom.

 

"Of course, you too!" Tom picked him up.  "He's your brother, too!"

 

"A BOY!" Nick's exuberance could probably be heard in the bunkhouse as he and Jarrod hurried into their parents' room to meet their little brother.

 

"What's his name?" Jarrod was asking as their father joined them at the bedside, setting Heath down next to his brothers.

 

"Your mother won this time," the man said, sitting on the edge of the bed and lifting the infant from his wife's arms.  He drew back the blanket that had partially obscured the baby's face and told them, "I wanted to name him after your mother and her grandfather.  But just as I didn't want a son named Tom … just too plain confusing … or Jonathon, after my brother," he looked at Nick, "your mother didn't want a little Victor running around here.  So his name is Eugene Victor."

 

"Eugene?" Nick asked.

 

"I like it," Victoria said firmly, reacting to the tone of voice the eleven-year-old hadn't been able to hide.  The tone of voice that said he wasn't sure he liked the name all that much.

 

"So do I," Jarrod agreed with their mother.  "And since Audra was named after Mother's sister, Helene, it means we all have our own name … and a family name."

 

"Except for Heath," Nick objected without really thinking about it.

 

There was a sudden silence, as no one seemed to know what to say in response.  A silence that was broken by a tiny voice saying, "I got a family name."

 

Four pairs of eyes turned towards the seven-year-old blond and it was Victoria who asked, "Who were you named after, Heath?"

 

Suddenly shy about talking of his mother's family, the boy didn't say a word for several seconds as he looked into Victoria Barkley's brown eyes.  Finally he told her, "My mama's mama.  Once Mr. Flynn asked me what my whole name was and when he heard that Morgan was part of it, he told me there was a horse called a Morgan.  When I told Mama that, she told me my name came from HER mama.  It was her name before she got married," he explained.  Then he added, with a little smile, "I guess she didn't want me thinkin' I was named after a horse."

 

It was Tom Barkley who laughed and said, "I don't think any parent would want their child to believe they were named after a horse."  And then, making a conscious decision to change the subject, he asked, "So … who gets to hold their little brother first?"

 

"I want to!" Nick spoke up before anyone else could respond.

 

"No," his mother stopped him as he stepped closer to his father, "I think Heath should.  Jarrod, of course, got to hold Nick first.  And Nick got to hold Audra first.  So I think Heath should get to hold Eugene first."

 

The little boy's eyes were wide as he looked over at her.  "That's okay.  Nick can."

 

"Don't you want to, son?" Tom asked him.

 

Heath gave a shrug of his shoulders and told him, "I don't know how to hold him.  Never even been this close to someone that little," he confessed.  "I don't wanna break him."

 

"You won't break him," Tom assured him, trying not to smile.  Then he suggested, "Why don't you sit in the rocking chair there and you can just hold him in your lap."

 

It was right next to the window and had been used for rocking all of Victoria Barkley's children in their infancy … and often beyond.  Jarrod held the chair steady as Heath sort of hopped back onto its cushioned seat and slid back to rest against its carved, wooden slats.  Tom carried the tiny bundle over and laid him in the seven-year-old's lap, positioning his arms for him so he'd support the baby properly.

 

"Boy howdy!" Heath said softly.  "He ain't even as heavy as a sack 'a potatoes!"

 

Tom was kneeling next to the chair and couldn't help laughing at the comment.  "I think it'll be a while before he gives a sack of potatoes a run for its money," he reached over and tousled the little blond's hair.  "You're doing real good there."

 

"Ain't as hard as I thought it would be," the boy confessed.  "He ain't cryin' or nothin'."

 

"He will," Nick said pessimistically.  "They all do."

 

"Yeah," Jarrod laughed as he put his arm around the eleven-year-old's shoulders, "they ALL do.  We didn't get a good night's sleep after Nick was born for at least two years."

 

"Very funny…" Nick muttered disgustedly.

 

The smile that Tom Barkley saw on his wife's face as she listened to the boys was a tired smile.  He knew she wouldn't chase them out so he chose to do it for her.  "Alright," he stood up and lifted Eugene from Heath's arms, "let's give mother and son a little time alone together.  Everyone else … out!"

 

He placed the baby in Victoria's arms and gave her a quick kiss before he straightened up and shepherded his sons from the room just as Howard Merar was returning from washing up.  Tom didn't follow the boys down the stairs as he heard Audra in her bedroom, waking from her nap and calling to her mama.  Well, he decided, today papa would have to do.  He wondered if she was old enough to realize that the routine was different today.  He wondered how happy she was going to be when she found out she was no longer the center of attention in the household.

 

The little golden-haired girl was sitting in her crib and smiled angelically as he entered her bedroom.  She stood up and held her arms out, happy to see her papa in the middle of the day.  As he lifted her from her bed, she planted a kiss on his cheek as her arms went around his neck.

 

"Oh, little lady," he smiled as his only daughter worked her magic on him, "how could I have possibly thought that you would no longer be the center of attention in this family?"  Holding her at arms length, he laughed and said, "You're always going to be the center of attention, aren't you?  In fact, I can't help but believe you're going to demand it.  And, little lady, you've now got four brothers who will probably all be more than happy to give you that attention.  Let's get you cleaned up so I can take you in to meet the newest Barkley male you're gonna wrap around your little finger."

 

 

  * * * * * * * *

 

 

Later that night…

 

He'd been studying the sky for no more than a minute when he saw it.  There it was.  Mama's star, winking down at him just as it did every night.  He closed his eyes for a moment, waiting for her to appear in his mind's eye.  A crooked little smile slowly graced his face as he saw her gentle smile.

 

He opened his eyes and spoke to the star.  "Hi, Mama.  Ya' prob'ly know this but I gotta tell ya' anyway -- I got me a new brother.  Boy howdy, when I make a wish, I sure do it right!" he breathed out.  "Guess that ol' wishin' fairy knew what he was doin' after all.  I still thought he mighta got it mixed up even after Pa 'splained it all to me.  Not the part about you, I mean … 'cause … well, I know that I couldn'ta changed that.  But I just made up the part about wantin' a brother so I thought he mighta got that mixed up," he admitted.  "But today I got ANOTHER brother so I'm thinkin' that wishin' fairy is makin' sure I know he did his job.  I'll prob'ly be able to play with him some day but right now he doesn't do nothin' but sleep."

 

He took a few seconds to think about what he wanted his mama to know about his little brother before he said, excitedly, "I got to hold him!  Mrs. Barkley said I should be first even though I ain't never been that close to a baby.  I didn't even break him … Pa said I wouldn't but I thought I might.  He's awful little!"

 

He closed his eyes again to be sure his mama was smiling at that.  Yep, there it was.  That smile he loved so much.  That smile he'd never forget.

 

"His name is Eugene Victor.  He's named after Mrs. Barkley," he told the winking star.  "She asked me who I was named after and I told her 'bout your mama.  She didn't even seem to mind.  She smiles real nice … not nice as you, Mama, but … nicer than most people ever smiled at me."  There was a long silence before he added softly and with a deep sigh, "Guess if I had to pick a new mama, I couldn'ta done any better.  Pa said she wouldn't mind if I call her 'Mother' like Nick and Jarrod do … but it don't seem right.  I know ya' ain't comin' back, Mama…"

 

The tears that he always tried to hold at bay when he talked to his mother sprang to his eyes and he wiped them away with his sleeve. 

 

"…but it don't seem right sayin' it.  Do ya' think it ever will?"

 

 

 

Epilogue

 

One week later…

 

He sat on the edge of the chair next to the bassinet and considered the enormity of the task before him.  He'd never been asked to watch someone so small before and he wasn't sure exactly what he was supposed to do.  There were times when he'd been asked to play with Audra but that had been pretty easy.  She could do some things for herself and could even say a few words.  Eugene couldn't do anything for himself … and even when he DID do something, Heath wasn't sure he did it on purpose.  Sometimes the baby would wave his fists in the air … but it never really looked like he knew what he was doing.  It just seemed to happen for no reason at all and it didn't matter if he was fussing or just lying there quietly.  Suddenly his fists would be waving in the air and everyone would have something to say about it.

 

His Pa would say that he hoped it didn't mean the baby was going to have Nick's temper.  And then Mrs. Barkley would tell him that their youngest was just trying to be noticed.  Jarrod would suggest that he probably had some important point he was trying to make and Nick would say he'd probably figure out the words he wanted to say when he stopped drooling.  Audra would just peek over the edge of the bassinet and say, "See!"

 

He wasn't sure any of them were right.  Mrs. Barkley had said Eugene couldn't see very well yet, so Heath figured he was just trying to brush aside whatever was getting in his way.  Or maybe he was dreaming and he was trying to chase something away … but Heath couldn't figure out what a little baby might see in his dreams that he'd need to chase away.  He couldn't imagine that someone that small would know about the bad things that sometimes invade the dreams of little boys.

 

So … maybe Mrs. Barkley was right that he just wanted to be noticed because he didn't even have to be paying close attention to see that his little brother had just waved a fist at him.  Maybe Eugene knew his mama had walked away and he wanted to know if anyone was there. 

 

Heath reached a tentative hand towards the closest fist and didn't have to do more than touch the little hand before it was wrapped around two of his fingers.  His brother was holding his hand!  He couldn't help but smile at that.  The infant's eyes were open but they didn't seem to be focusing on anything as Heath reached over to see if the tiny child would grasp his other hand.  He wasn't disappointed as his little brother quickly gripped two fingers as though he'd been waiting for them. 

 

He wondered if he should let Mrs. Barkley know that the baby was awake.  She'd said to let her know if he started crying but hadn't said anything about him just waking up.  "Do ya' want me to get your mama?" Heath asked, knowing he wouldn't really get an answer.

 

The fists that had still been moving even as they held onto his fingers, stopped as Eugene heard the soft voice.

 

"Or I could just stay here until she comes back if ya' want me to," he offered.  "Don't mind at all."

 

He figured the best response he could hope for was that his little brother wouldn't start crying.

 

"You're pretty strong for bein' so little," the blond told the baby as he shook his own hands slightly to see if the fists would let go.  They held tight.  "Nick'll like that when I tell him.  He thinks ya' don't do nothin' but drool.  He'll like to hear that you're strong.  I'll tell him before he thinks of a name for ya'.  He says all little brothers gotta have a nickname … but I think that's just his rule and not really written down somewhere.  Maybe if he knows you're strong he'll give ya' a better name than if he just thinks ya' drool," Heath suggested.

 

He stopped for a moment and the fists waved at him, moving his own hands back and forth, almost demanding that he continue.

 

He did.  "I'll try to see that he gives ya' a good name.  Didn't like the one he gave me at first 'cause he always sounded like he was spittin' when he said it.  But then one night he said it and it sounded different," he remembered.  "He told me he'd never call me 'midget' again … but he does … and I don't guess I mind 'cause it sounds like he's sayin' a whole 'nother word.  Funny how ya' can say the same word and make it sound different 'cause ya' feel different.  Ya' prob'ly won't hafta worry about that 'cause I think Nick liked ya' from the first time he saw ya' … even if he DOES think that all ya' do is drool," the little blond laughed.

 

"It sounds like you two are having a good time together," a voice startled him and he looked up to see Mrs. Barkley smiling at them from the doorway.  "I certainly hope you can influence Nick to give him a good nickname.  That boy certainly does live by some interesting rules, don't you think?" she asked as she crossed the room to join them, kneeling on the opposite side of the bassinet from Heath.

 

"Yes, ma'am," he returned the smile.

 

"I'm glad to hear that you don't mind when he calls you 'midget'."

 

"He don't say it the same no more."

 

"Mmmm…" she nodded having heard him tell Eugene the same thing.  "He used to sound like he was spittin'?"

 

"Yes, ma'am," he laughed slightly at the way she said it.

 

"Nick often sounds like he's spitting.  But I know he likes having you as his little brother."

 

Heath nodded.  "That's how he says it now.  Ya' ever heard Jarrod call Nick 'little brother'?"

 

"Quite often," she mimicked the blond's nod.

 

"Nick says 'midget' just like Jarrod says 'little brother'."

 

"I see," her eyebrows raised at the thought that the seven-year-old could actually hear that difference … and understand it.

 

"Kinda like when Mama used to say…" his voice trailed off uncertainly.

 

"What did she used to say?" Victoria asked softly, knowing the boy wouldn't reminisce about his mother without her permission.  When he still didn't say anything she assured him, "I don't mind hearing your memories of your mother.  I know she must have been a wonderful woman to raise such a sweet little boy."

 

The smile he favored her with was that shy one that always made her heart melt.  That and the soft drawl that told her, "Mama used to say 'Heath Morgan!' and even if I wasn't lookin' at her I could tell what her face looked like.  She said it one way when she was smilin' and plannin' to give me a hug … and she said it another way when I did somethin' like trackin' mud into the house and she didn't look so happy."

 

"I guess you can tell a lot by the voice someone uses when they address you."

 

"Yes, ma'am, guess ya' can."

 

She sighed, wondering if he'd ever consider calling her something other than 'ma'am'.  A noise from the bassinet turned her attention away from the little blond for a moment.  Eugene was more fully awake and was letting her know he was ready to be fed.

 

"Honey," she looked up at Heath again, "why don't you go join Audra in the kitchen with Silas.  I believe he had a plate of cookies waiting to be sampled.  Supper is still a few hours away.  I don't think a couple cookies will spoil the appetite of a growing boy."

 

"No, ma'am, they sure won't!" he agreed and heard that sigh again.

 

He gently pulled his fingers out of his little brother's fists and watched as Mrs. Barkley lifted him from the bassinet, cooing into his ear, "Mama's gonna take care of you."

 

She was shifting the baby in her arms and trying to reach down for his blanket when Heath pulled it from the bassinet and held it out to her.  "Did ya' ever notice," he asked softly as she took it from him, "that 'ma'am' and 'mama' have all the same letters in 'em?"

 

Eyebrows raised, she could only ask, "Do they?"

 

"Yes, ma'am," he looked up into her eyes and she saw … and heard … something she'd never taken notice of before.

 

He didn't look at her as he had when he'd first come to the ranch.  He didn't sound like the same scared little boy who was afraid that every word he said would be the wrong one.

 

She couldn't imagine that there could be anymore love in those eyes.  That he could possibly say the word 'ma'am' with any more affection.

 

As she watched him leave the room in search of cookies, her eyes filled with tears as she realized that she no longer minded hearing him say 'ma'am'.  It no longer mattered to her if he ever chose to call her 'Mother'.  He probably would some day … but it no longer mattered.

 

In her heart, she'd just heard him say it.

 

 

 

 

THE END