The Briefcase
Interlude 9
by Lindabrit

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.

This story is about Jarrod Barkley and his family, as invented by my friend and sometime writing partner Tally. She has Jarrod married to a lady-journalist Sarah Faires and they go on to have four children, two boys and two girls. At the time of this story, the two boys and one girl have been born, Jack is about seven or eight and Robert (Rusty) and Rebecca the twins are about three or four.

Part 1

It was Jarrod Barkley's invariable custom, upon returning to his home in the evenings from his law office in Stockton, to immediately change out of his city suit into more casual attire. He was a married man now and a father to boot, he felt it was important to show a presence in his children's lives. He was morbidly anxious not to be a remote figure in a suit who they saw only at breakfast and bedtime or when they were in trouble for some naughtiness or another.

So every evening, the lawyer resolutely put aside his work, no matter how pressing and headed home to the elegant but welcoming house Sarah had fashioned for their family. Once changed into his casual clothes, Jarrod would spend time with his offspring, the red- headed twins Robert, called Rusty at home and Rebecca, known to them all as Becky and Jarrod junior, always called Jack when not in disgrace, which he often was.

Jarrod loved these happy hours, rough-housing on the floor, talking over their day, reading them stories and seeing them into bed, helping Jack with his schoolwork. He relished his role in the lives of his children, he had deeply loved his own father and earnestly wanted to be a good father to his own children.

Jarrod was a very successful attorney with a thriving practice and there were many times when he had more work than he could reasonably handle. He tried to limit the amount of work that he undertook, but Jarrod was a man of principle and there were some issues in which he passionately believed. No man or woman who desperately needed help would ever be turned away by Jarrod Barkley and inevitably he needed to burn the midnight oil at times to keep abreast of his cases.

Prior to fatherhood, Jarrod would have done this extra work in his office but to comply with his self-imposed rules regarding spending time with his children, he now brought the paperwork home with him instead. He would stuff the relevant papers into his leather briefcase and head for home and family. The work would wait until he had tucked all three children into bed, then he would go to his wood paneled study and work steadily through his business, sometimes late into the night. Sarah sometimes worried that he stretched himself to his limit and beyond, but knew him too well to protest.

Jarrod and Sarah were not particularly strict parents, their household was a happy one and they allowed their offspring to grow and develop, taking in their stride the various pranks that a trio of high spirited youngsters were capable of getting into. The few family rules that they imposed made perfect sense to the children, they were at all times to take care not to injure themselves or each other, or an animal, they were to respect and be obedient to their Mama and they were to be honest and hard-working.

There was only one other important rule in the Jarrod Barkley house, no child was ever to touch, open or in any way to interfere with Papa's briefcase. Jarrod had impressed this simple but absolute rule upon his children, he sometimes carried valuable or important legal documents, occasionally a large sum of money might repose in the case. Other times, as now, the details of a gruesome crime might be filed in the case, material that Counselor Barkley would not wish his family to see or experience in any way.


The Barkley twins were little red-headed terrors, full of life and up to every kind of mischief, Becky was a tigress, more than willing to take on big brother Jack if she thought it at all necessary. Her twin brother Rusty shared her naughty streak but preferred diplomacy to settle his affairs, both were intelligent children, Becky especially so, even though she was barely four, she could already read and her parents were both very proud of her.

Eight year old Jack was also a handful, indeed his exploits made those of the twins pale into insignificance. He was a good-looking child, having his father's dark hair and vivid blue eyes. He was clever and quick-witted and utterly, frighteningly fearless. He had a bad case of hero-worship for his Uncle Nick and copied him in many things. Jarrod, who had experienced the hurricane that was Nick Barkley's boyhood was braced for the same wild ride with his eldest son.

Jack got into trouble on a regular basis, his effervescent energy and brave nature leading him into all manner of scrapes. It wasn't that he meant to be bad, he just had an abundance of confidence, didn't think there was anything in life he couldn't handle and wanted to be and do and know everything. When engaged on a prank, he would pursue his goal as though it was the Holy Grail he had read about in his Uncle Nick's Camelot tales. Jack's latest Holy grail, was currently occupying his thoughts to the exclusion of everything else. He was consumed with an unquenchable desire to know just exactly what his father kept in the briefcase that no Barkley child must ever touch.

Part 2

Jack adored his father, he had been in the courtroom a few times and in both of Jarrod's law offices, in Stockton and San Francisco. He knew what an attorney did for a living and was wise enough to know that Jarrod displayed his personal courage every bit as often in his working life as the likes of Uncle Nick and Uncle Heath did out on the range.

He wasn't deliberately setting out to defy Jarrod either, his burning desire to see inside the forbidden case was just a part of his intense thirst for knowledge. He aimed to do it too, he was going to look inside the briefcase no matter what. He hoped to accomplish his mission in secrecy but he was mentally prepared for the consequences should his father catch him at it.

Jarrod rarely if ever raised a hand to any of his children, but sometimes Jack wished he would. A spanking might be unpleasant but it was over and done with a lot faster than one of Counselor Barkley's stern lectures. Jarrod could deliver a tongue lashing like nobody else Jack knew, it was something about the blighting tone of voice coupled with those ice-cold blue eyes that burned into you all the while. He did not lightly transgress his father's rules, but he aimed to this time, he just had to know what mysterious elements of the adult world were contained in that aggravatingly enigmatic briefcase!

He had almost succeeded in his self-appointed task two days ago, Father had come home at lunchtime complaining of a sick head-ache and citing overwork as the cause. Mama had teased Papa, saying it had more to do with the late-night poker session at the Cattlemens Association meeting the previous evening. Papa usually took his briefcase into the study but today he had simply dropped it onto the chair in the foyer as he took off his hat and coat. It lay there taunting Jack to snoop inside it and as soon as Papa had gone upstairs to lie down and Mama had gone back to the garden where she was cutting flowers, Jack crossed resolutely over to the briefcase and unbuckled the leather straps. With hands that trembled slightly jack slid the brass catch to open the case only to have his hopes dashed for it was locked.

The sound of his father's voice from the stairs had made Jack's heart skip a beat.

"Jack! What are you up to Son?"

"Nothing, I...I was just...going to bring your briefcase up to you...in case you needed it," stammered Jack, thinking fast as he often had to, when saving his bacon.

"Were you now?" His father sardonically enquired.


"Yes Sir," Jack assured him coming up the stairs to place the briefcase. Rather sheepishly in Jarrod's hands.

The lawyer had pushed up his son's stubborn little chin and let Jack feel the uncomfortably penetrating glare of his shrewd eyes. He had spoken softly but with deadly emphasis,

"Jack if I catch you with your hands on this case again I'll make you regret the day you were born, do we understand each other?"

"Yessir!"

"See that we do Little Man, see that we do."

Totally undeterred by this encounter, Jack was still resolved upon snooping in the briefcase, only he was going to have to acquire an important new skill first. Now who did he know that could teach him how to pick locks? Mentally Jack reviewed a list of his associates, a list varied enough to cause his mother many a sleepless night, had she realized he knew half the disreputable people on it.
With a grin of triumph, Jack thought of a friend of his, a friend very close to home, who could teach him all he needed to know.

Counselor Barkley's lovely home was built on a pleasant spot on the Barkley lands, not very far from the graceful white mansion that had been Jarrod's childhood home. Jack was permitted to ride his pony as far as the mansion without supervision, so it was no problem at all to ride over one afternoon after school to visit one of his favourite haunts, the big blacksmith's forge in the Barkley barn.

Keno Nash had been blacksmith here for some time now, ever since a remorseful Jarrod Barkley had personally brought him back here from San Quentin, where he had served a lengthy and unmerited term in prison. Jarrod had been the prosecutor in Keno's trial and his skill had obtained the conviction that incarcerated Keno. He had believed him guilty, but learning the truth, Jarrod was not the man to turn his back on one he had wronged.

After a slightly difficult start, Keno had settled happily into his new life, he worked hard enough to draw praise from his hard to please boss Nick Barkley and he had made friends among the other hands. The one time criminal, a member of the infamous riverside Hounds, had reinvented himself, into a hard-working, trusted and important member of the Barkley team. He was a big, shy bear of a man, amazingly gentle with horses, dogs and children and Jack Barkley loved him.

Keno glanced up from his forge as his favourite amongst the Barkley children entered, "hello there Jack, want to see me make some more horse-shoes?"

Jack moved close to his big, amiable friend, "no Keno, not today, I want you to teach me something much more important."

"Oh, what might that be?"

"I want you to show me how to pick locks," smiled Jack, accompanying his strange request with a look of limpid, almost angelic innocence.

Keno's smile faded, "now why would you need to know how to pick a lock youngun?"

Jack had anticipated this question and had a ready answer, "you see Keno, my father keeps his briefcase locked and I have a special present for him, I want to put it in the case before he leaves for court tomorrow. It's a surprise and I want him to find it there."

Keno wasn't the sharpest of men and he took some time to consider this, at length he said. "I don't think so Jack, if your Daddy wanted you to see what was in there why keep it locked? I don't reckon I should teach you about picking locks."

Jack wasn't about to give up, "please Keno," he pleaded, "I just want to surprise my Papa, please show me, please?"

The big man was not proof against the earnest glow in Jack's vivid blue eyes and he smiled at his little friend.

"All right, but you promise me not to pick any other lock you hear?"

Inwardly glowing with triumph, Jack said, "oh I won't Keno, I promise you that!"

He was an adept pupil, indeed a natural, which Keno had the wisdom to refrain from telling him. In a very short time, Jack was equipped with both the knowledge and the tool he needed to accomplish his purpose. He bade Keno farewell, with renewed promises not to use his new-found skill for any evil purpose, remounted his pony and made his way swiftly home.

Part 3

Jack got his chance for a long-awaited look in Counselor Barkley's briefcase that very evening. Jarrod had been sweating out the day in a hot and crowded Stockton courtroom and came home exhausted. Minutes after helping Sarah put the twins to bed, the weary lawyer was asleep in his favourite armchair and Sarah whispered to Jack to leave his Papa in peace for a while. Jack was only too willing to do this and when his mother went up to her room to write a letter, at the elegant writing desk Jarrod had bestowed upon her, the determined boy knew that his hour had at last arrived.

Jack glided into the study, silent as any ghost and located the forbidden treasure on the floor at the side of Jarrod's desk. He picked it up and went to sit on the window seat with the case beside him on the cushion. He picked the tiny lock expertly and with hands that shook with excitement, the erring child opened his prize.

He was disappointed initially, to find that the case held only two things, The first was a manila folder with a thick set of papers in it and a packet of smaller items, when the boy opened the smaller packet he could see that the contents were in fact photographs and his excitement grew. The second object in the case was a bulky, heavy object in a sort of leather case and when his small fingers succeeded in opening this, Jack realized with fast beating heart that it contained a small but serviceable gun.

Jack had once asked Nick Barkley to let him shoot a real gun and had been told in forthright and emphatic tones that he was far too young. Circumspectly, he fastened up the holster again and laid the gun beside him on the seat. He opened the folder, took out the packet inside it and extracted from it the six photographs it contained. The boy spread these pictures out on the cushion beside him and studied them in silence.

Jack Barkley's intelligent eyes took in every horrifying detail so graphically recorded in the pictures and with a sense of terror so profound that he could barely breathe, tears spilled down his ashen cheeks. The boy had intended to read the file, but he was too upset and his vision was too blurred to make much headway with it. He knew the case concerned a raid on a farm up in the hills and it said that the dead boy was called Tim Seacombe but that was as far as Jack could manage to read.

His stricken eyes were drawn again and again to the pictures, especially the first one, the one that showed the murdered figure of a little boy, horribly wounded and plastered with blood and muck.
The little corpse had the same dark colouring as Jack, he was the same size as Jack, it was...it was intolerably distressing, unbearable to look at any longer and impossible to accept as well. Because people didn't kill little boys...did they? If they did, Jack's eyes widened in fright, if they did, then he wasn't safe, neither were his brother and sister and they would never be safe again!

Jack's instinct was to race down the stairs and fling himself into his father's arms, he wanted to pour out the horror of all that he had just seen, exorcise it from his unprepared soul. His father would know what to do, know how to make it go away again, everything would come right and Papa would somehow wipe the dreadful images of death from Jack's mind.

In the same instant, Jack knew that he couldn't go to his father for comfort, he must dam up the flood of sickness and grief that threatened to engulf him and he must do it by himself. He had never felt so alone, or so helpless. In the sudden clarity of his newly heightened sense of perception, the full force of his wrongdoing burst upon Jack. He had disobeyed Papa's injunction to leave the briefcase alone and he had lied to Keno Nash to get him to teach him how to pick a lock. He had stolen the case, picked the lock and seen what he was not supposed to see. Oh how dearly he wished he hadn't seen it!

Jack didn't want to imagine how angry his father might be and with a stomach-churning twist of shame, he realized that he might well have forfeited Keno's good opinion for ever too. Worse still, maybe his father would be mad at Keno, Jack couldn't bear to get his friend in trouble too, that would be awful. The little fists clenched hard as the boy fought to conquer the wave of panic that had coursed through him.

The only way out of this self-inflicted nightmare was for him to replace the file in the case, re-lock it and return it to his father's study, undetected. He must somehow learn to live with the horrid facts he had gleaned from the file and he must suppress his reaction to the gory pictures. Neither Jarrod Barkley, nor Keno Nash must ever know the truth.

Having come to this conclusion, Jack just had one problem left, if there were devils in the world, so cruel and so evil that they killed small boys, how was he ever to feel safe again? The solution seemed obvious to the child and was laying right alongside him. He would keep and hide the little gun, then if the killer came for him, he would be armed and ready to defend himself. He reasoned that his Papa might not notice that the gun had gone and slid it into his pants pocket until he could find a better hiding place. Then, he restored the file to the case, locked it and replaced it in the study. He hid the gun in his room and when Jarrod awoke, Jack was sitting innocently on the floor at his father's feet playing in a desultory fashion with one of the twins toys.

When Jarrod noticed how pale his little son was, Jack complained of an aching head and was promptly tucked into bed. He clung to Jarrod when his goodnight kiss was bestowed and when his father had gone the little boy turned his face into his pillow to muffle the sound and sobbed as though his heart would break.

Part 4

At the breakfast table next morning, Jack was quiet and withdrawn. Sarah had her hands full with the slightly fractious twins and failed to notice that her eldest son was looking pale and heavy eyed but his father did. Jarrod's perceptive gaze rested thoughtfully on his boy, was the child sick or was there a different cause for the rather stricken, downcast little figure sitting so miserably at the table?

The lawyer spoke softly, "Jack?"

The little boy visibly started and turned rather apprehensively towards his father. Was that a look of guilt in those expressive little eyes? Jarrod wasn't sure but he rather thought so.

"Are you feeling all right Son?"

"I guess so," murmured Jack, lowering his head, tears stinging his eyelids at the kindly look on his father's face.

"I'm not so sure about that," said Jarrod stretching a hand to feel Jack's forehead. "Honey, this young man's running a bit of a fever."

"Oh?" Sarah came to Jack's side, brushing a lock of dark hair out of his eyes and laying her own cool hand on the boy's head. "Yes I think Papa's right Sweetheart, perhaps you'd better stay home today."

Jack was desperate, both of his parents were much to shrewd to be deceived for long, if he stayed home and they got to talking to him, he knew his goose would be cooked, he needed to escape from their scrutiny before it was too late.

"No! I...I'm fine, I want to go to school," he pleaded making a valiant attempt at cheerfulness.
Sarah looked a question at Jarrod, the lawyer nodded his understanding of her meaning and spoke in a neutral voice to his little son.

"All right Jack you can go to school if you like, in fact I'll take you there on my way to work. I need to swing by my Mother's house and then I'll take you to school but you must tell Miss Irby if you feel ill and she can send someone to my office to fetch me if necessary, will you do that Son?"

Jack nodded and managed a relieved smile, which was not lost on his father, Jarrod didn't want to force the boy's secret from him, time enough to gently worm it out of him later if need be.
The drive to the Barkley mansion was accomplished in near silence, in stark contrast to what would usually have been the case. Normally Jack would have talked his father's ears off the whole way, but not today, his heart was too full of pain for that.

When the buggy arrived in the compound outside the Barkley barn, there were already several people standing there. Dave McCall, long-time ranch foreman and the blacksmith Keno Nash, were talking to a tall, burly individual dressed in the rough working clothes of a farmer. Heath and Nick Barkley were on the other side of the compound, leaning on the corral rail and watching as a couple of hands put one of the new draft of horses they had purchased through its paces.

As Jarrod drew up the buggy, he could hear that there was an altercation going on, the farmer's voice was raised and he was jabbing a finger at McCall. With a sigh, the lawyer recognized McCall's assailant, a belligerent man called Jonas Helsby who believed the Barkleys had encroached on his lands. The matter was to be decided in court in a week or two. Clearly, Mr Helsby didn't intend to wait until then to bring the matter to a head.

With a sigh, Jarrod told Jack to wait where he was and himself descended to join in the fray. McCall tersely sent his watching men about their business and himself stood by with Keno Nash to back up Jarrod if the lawyer needed his help.


Counselor Barkley tried to reason with Helsby, but he could smell the drink on the man and knew it was well nigh hopeless. He kept his voice even as he argued with the irate and threatening farmer.

"Mr Helsby, there is no point in this argument, what say we save it for the judge next week?"

Jarrod's pacific tone seemed to inflame the angry farmer even more and he started jabbing the lawyer in the shoulder, shoving him backward.

"To hell with you Lawyer," Helsby spat venomously, "I ain't waiting for no court to rob me of what's mine, and by hell, I'll shed some Barkley blood before I'm through!"
He lurched drunkenly at Jarrod and both Nash and McCall stepped forward. Counselor Barkley glared at both men.


"Stand back," he rapped, "I'll handle this!"

The lawyer pushed Helsby back and for a moment the drunken man stood uncertainly, recovering his equilibrium. Over at the corral, Heath nudged his brother and gestured in the direction of the barn.

"Hey Nick, looks like Jarrod may need a little help over there."

Nick nodded grimly, "let's go!"

As they walked toward their brother, Helsby moved threateningly toward the lawyer again. Heath's attention was wholly on Jarrod and Helsby but Nick was glancing over to the buggy, where he had noticed little Jack sitting watching his father. The ranchers sharp hazel eyes widened in horror as he saw the glint of metal in the child's trembling hands. Nick swiftly put himself between Jack and the farmer,

"Jack, no!"

Nick's urgent shout was cut off by the loud report of the gun, which kicked in Jack's small hands as he fired it. The kick was disastrous causing the barrel to veer in Nick's direction. Under Jack's terrified gaze, Nick went down in the dirt, clutching a hand to his arm, from which blood was welling rapidly. With a sob of fright, Jack scrambled from the buggy and oblivious to his father and his uncles, all calling his name, he ran for the nearby woods as fast as his legs could take him.

Jarrod was so astounded that he didn't immediately follow his son, but he did stoop to pick up the discarded gun and stood for a minute staring at it and wondering how the devil it had gotten into Jack's inexpert hands. Keno was at Jarrod's elbow,


"Shall I follow him Sir?"

"No Keno, let him be, I know where he's headed I think, help Nick up will you?"

The big man hastened to Nick's side and squatted beside Heath, who was deftly staunching the blood from Nick's wound and binding up the arm.

McCall had silenced the rampaging Helsby by the simple expedient of felling him with a mighty right hook. He directed a couple of the hands to pick up the stunned farmer and take him away before turning to Counselor Barkley for orders.

Jarrod tore his gaze from his own gun and declined McCall's low- voiced offer to send men out searching for Jack.


"No Mac, I don't want to panic Jack by setting a pack of men on him. I need to approach him quietly, he's a very scared little boy right now."

The lawyer came to his brothers, as Keno and Heath got Nick up on his feet.

"Are you all right Nick?"

"Sure thing Jarrod, it's just a flesh wound is all." The rancher looked at the small calibre gun in his brother's hands, "isn't that your gun?"

Jarrod nodded grimly, "I keep it in my briefcase, I haven't the least idea how my son got hold of it!"



The stricken face of Keno Nash worked slightly, then the big man said softly,

"I know how, it...it's all my fault."

Part 5

Nick Barkley's wrathful voice echoed across the corral,

"Well now what do you mean this is your fault Keno?"

Heath clamped his hand on the wound in Nick's arm,

"For Pete's sake Nick, settle down, you're gonna make this arm bleed again!"

Jarrod stabbed Nick with an arctic glare, "leave this to me Nick," he ordered peremptorily. He fixed austere eyes on Keno's face and said in a tone of ominous quiet,
"I think you'd better explain yourself Keno."

The big man shuffled his feet, flushing beet red as he falteringly told his tale. When he had finished telling Jarrod of the deception Jack had practised on him, he raised sorrowful and humble eyes to the lawyer's face and said sadly, "I guess you'll be letting me go now Sir?"

Jarrod glanced at his brothers, they had been struggling to recruit suitable men to cope with all the blacksmithing necessary on the ranch before the advent of Keno Nash. Since the ex-hound's arrival, he had performed admirably in the role and Counselor Barkley could see that neither Nick nor Heath wanted to lose the man. All the same, teaching Jack to pick locks was at best foolish and at worst...had Nash done it for revenge after all this time?

Almost as if Nash had read his mind he said quietly, "I didn't do it to spite you, if that's what you're thinking, I like that little kid, I'd never hurt him...or you." He gazed unflinchingly at the lawyer, "if you want me to leave, it's no more than I deserve, I know that."

Jarrod's stern gaze didn't waver, "I'll think it over," he said flatly, turning away from the stricken Nash and taking Nick's good arm.
"Come on inside Nick, let's get that arm bound up properly."

As Jarrod and Nick headed for the house, Keno turned his pain- filled gaze on Heath, the blond rancher understood the unspoken plea and laid a hand on Keno's shoulder,

"I'll talk to him," he promised and followed his brothers indoors.

There were no Barkley ladies in residence at the moment, they were buying up all the best shops in Denver, so Heath and Silas were the ones who carefully cleaned and dressed Nick's flesh wound. It didn't take them very long and when Nick was bandaged up properly, Silas approached Jarrod saying softly,

"Sir? Would you like for me to drive over to your house and put Mrs Barkley in the picture?"

"Yes please Silas," said the lawyer gratefully, "tell Sarah not to worry, I'll be bringing Jack on home as soon as I possibly can. Make sure she knows he doesn't have the gun any more and assure her that Nick is all right too."

"I'll go right away Mr Barkley," smiled Silas heading for the door.

Heath looked at his eldest brother, "why did he take the gun do you think?"

Before Jarrod could answer Nick interrupted shaking his head, "it makes no sense! I told Jack all about guns, he knows better than to do this, I don't understand it Jarrod!"

Counselor Barkley had been quietly looking at the remaining contents of his briefcase and he smiled sadly, "I'm afraid I do understand it Nick. This file contains the details of the massacre out at the Seacombe farm last month."

Nick grimaced, "you mean that poor little boy that was murdered by those marauding scum?"

Heath frowned, recalling the account he had read in the paper, "didn't they kill the parents and rob the place and abduct the kid?"

Jarrod nodded sombrely, "yes the ringleader, Herb Barnston, shot the kid back at their camp when he tried to get away. The posse caught up with some of them a week later and a couple of the men turned Barnston in to save their necks. I'm prosecuting him, hence the file."

Heath smiled faintly, "you don't often prosecute," he remarked.

"No," acknowledged Jarrod, "but in this case it'll be a pleasure!"

Nick stood up, flexing his injured arm, "isn't it about time we took off after Jack?"

Jarrod nodded, "yes but just us please, I don't want a posse of ranch hands spooking him, I'd rather I found him or one of his uncles, nobody else."

Heath looked between Nick and Jarrod, "so where do we think he was most likely headed?"


Nick frowned, "either Fort Barkley or that place you sometimes take him Jarrod, what's the name of it?"

"Isla del Cielo," answered the lawyer quietly.

"Yeah, that lake, he might have run off up there," agreed Nick.

"I'll ride up there now," said Jarrod, "Heath can check the fort, you rest up Nick, you lost a good deal of blood before we got the bleeding stopped."

Nick protested vociferously but both his brothers were adamant and eventually, Nick surrendered, agreed that he did indeed feel light-headed and stretched himself out on the sofa as his brothers went in search of the seven year old gunman.

Part 6

Ciego having provided Jarrod with a mount, the lawyer rode up to the lake he himself had named Islas del Cielo, Islands in the Sky. It had once been his favourite place on the ranch, his bolt-hole as a boy, the place where he did his juvenile crying, his writing of bad poetry and a lot of youthful thinking. He had brought Sarah up here, proposed marriage to her and suggested that they built their home in this lovely place. She had agreed and after their marriage they had even laid the foundations of their future home.

It was then that Cass Hyatt had struck, the would be assassin had fired his vengeful gun at Jarrod but it had hit his wife instead. Sarah had been desperately wounded but had ultimately survived, unlike the premature daughter born too soon as a result of the shooting. Baby Martha had lived for just one hour and since then, Jarrod had never felt quite the same about Islas del Cielo.

He still came here sometimes though and had brought Jack with him once or twice. Jarrod dismounted and tethered his horse, sitting rather wearily on a flat rock and resting his gaze on the tranquil silvery beauty of the lake. In truth, he didn't expect to find Jack up here, it would have been quite a walk for the scared little boy to make, it was far more likely that he had run swiftly to the traditional refuge of two generations of Barkley children. This sylvan hideaway was situated in the woods near the Barkley mansion and it was Nick who had named it Fort Barkley.

Jarrod was fairly sure that it was to Fort Barkley that the panicked Jack had escaped, so he wondered why he himself had elected to ride up here. He knew the answer of course, he was, for the moment avoiding a reunion with his son. Jarrod was deeply angry with his high spirited offspring, he tolerated a good deal from the boy, recognizing the child's fearless nature and thirst for knowledge, but this? This was just plain bad behaviour. His father had forbidden him to probe the contents of the briefcase and the child had been determined to do so. So determined that he had gone to extraordinary lengths to achieve his objective.

Jack had lied, dissembled and disobeyed and his father was displeased with and disappointed in him. The lawyer was wise enough to know that events had to some extent spiraled beyond one little boy's control and this had gone some way to assuage the worst of his wrath. There was an urgent need to recover Jack and restore him to the quiet refuge of his home, so Jarrod had taken the decision to send Heath Barkley to the fort in search of the child. Jack liked his Uncle Heath, he trusted his quiet strength and would react better to being found by him than by the father he knew he had let down. Jarrod had needed a period of reflection before he attempted to undo the bitter harm that his son had done himself, so he had quite deliberately sent Heath in search of Jack and himself in search of the wisdom to help his son.

Jack had fled the Barkley compound on foot and Heath followed him the same way, it wasn't far to the fort, which his sister Audra had shown him on one of their rides around the ranch. As the rancher pushed aside the down-swept branches he could hear the muffled whimpers that betrayed the erring little boy's presence. Heath kept his voice low,

"Jack? It's Uncle Heath, I've come to take you home, let's go Son."

For a moment there was no sound or movement from the interior regions of the fort, then with a doleful sniff, there was a rustle of branches and a flash of motion as the disconsolate little boy scrambled down from his hideout and stood head bowed in front of his uncle. The child was scratched and grazed and soaking wet as well. In his haste to get away he had obviously fallen into the creek and had sustained his injuries scrambling out again.
Heath pushed up Jack's chin and spoke very gently to him.

"Are you all right Jack?"

"I...guess so," whispered the child miserably, tears rolling wearily down his face.

Heath stripped off his jacket and wrapping it around his shivering nephew he scooped him up and carried him out of the fort and back across the meadow toward the house. Jack's anxious eyes scoured Heath's tranquil face, trying to read his uncle's expression. Not that Heath was the man on his mind, he gave voice to his real concern.

"Where...where is my father?"

"He rode up to Islas del Cielo in case you went that way."

"Is...is he very angry with me?"

"What do you think Jack?"

The little head dipped again, "I think he...I think he'll never forgive me," said the sad little voice.

"Well," smiled Heath, "you sure do have some explaining to do and you need to say sorry to a bunch of folks, but I think you know your father well enough not to be afraid of him don't you?"

"Yes, I guess so."

Heath squeezed the little figure in his arms reassuringly, "tell your father all about it Jack, who knows, he may be more understanding than you think."

Jack was doubtful about this but he had another burning question on his mind, "is Uncle Nick all right?"

"Well not quite," teased Heath, "on account of someone shot him."

Jack cast him a look of burning reproach and Heath relented, "you know your Uncle Nick , it'd take more than a small calibre bullet to kill him!"

When they reached the Barkley barn, Ciego had Charger saddled and ready to go so Heath swung himself straight into the saddle and Ciego placed Jack up in front of him.

"Tell Nick this little fella's all right Ciego," ordered Heath setting Charger in motion.

"Si Senor Heath, I will."

The Mexican stood watching as Heath rode away toward Jarrod's house with his little burden and then he went up to the house to allay Nick Barkley's fears about his nephew.

Silas had done his work well and when Heath met Sarah at her front door she was perfectly calm and self-possessed, although clearly pleased to see her erring son more or less in one piece. She tried to take Jack from Heath's arms but he shook his head with a smile,

"better let me carry him up to the bathtub for you, he's real muddy."

Sarah consented and followed them up the stairs. She and Heath put Jack into a hot bath and scrubbed the dirt off him briskly enough to make the little boy's eyes water. When they had dried Jack off, Heath sat with him in his lap while his mother anointed his various hurts. Then they put him into a clean nightshirt and tucked him into bed to rest and recover from his morning's ordeal.

Downstairs again, Sarah poured coffee for her brother in law and enquired after Nick.

Heath grinned, "well he lost a bit of blood but knowing Nick he'll be on the mend already."

Sarah smiled back, "I'm sure he'll be fine, I'm equally sure he'll use his injury to make you do all the dirty jobs for as long as he can manage it," she said drily.

Heath's answering smile was rueful, "I wish I thought you were wrong!"

There was the sound of hoofbeats on the drive outside the house and a minute later Counselor Barkley entered the room. Sarah could see from the rather set look on her husband's face how upset he was and she hoped he did not intend to be too hard on his little son. She had seen the haunted expression in Jack's eyes and knew that he was sorely in need of his father's wisdom and understanding. Unfortunately for Jack, his father's inflexible frown suggested that punishment was more likely than any heart to heart. Sarah decided to try and keep Jarrod away from their son for a while, in the hope that his anger would cool slightly.

Heath drained his coffee and stood up to leave. "I'd better head back and see what Nick's up to," he smiled.

Jarrod shook hands with his brother, "thanks for finding the would be assassin for me," he said with an attempt at humour.

Heath's eyes sparkled, "I reckon you had a pretty good idea where Jack was Counselor."

"Maybe," admitted Jarrod with the ghost of a smile.


Heath's face grew serious again, "Jarrod? About Keno, have you decided anything about his future yet?"

The lawyer shook his head, "no, I need time to think about it," again Jarrod wondered whether Keno had acted maliciously in teaching Jack to pick locks.

Heath accurately read his eldest brother's thoughts, "I believed him when he said he didn't do it for spite Jarrod."

"Maybe not, but like I told Keno himself Heath, I'll think it over."

Heath knew he would get no further by pressing Jarrod at this stage so he abandoned the question for now. "Fair enough," he said with a smile and took his leave.

Sarah poured coffee for her husband and Jarrod accepted the cup and saucer gratefully, "thanks, I can use this, it's been quite a morning."

Sarah sat opposite Jarrod and asked quietly, "why on earth did Jack take your gun Jarrod? Oh I know he can be a handful and I know he had developed an obsession about getting a look inside your briefcase but taking the gun? He's not a stupid child, quite the opposite in fact, what would prompt him to do such a thing?"

Jarrod had been sipping his coffee but now he put down the cup and saucer and met his wife's anxious gaze. His own expression was still stern and grim, but Sarah was revising her opinion that he was just very angry with Jack, there was a further element to the pain in her husband's eyes, it was a measure of guilt.

Jarrod spoke very quietly as he picked up the infamous briefcase and took from it the manila folder, "I need to show you something Sarah, some photographs that were in my case when Jack took it. Unfortunately, he must have seen them, believe me Darling, I wish more than anything in the world that he hadn't!"

As Sarah's shocked eyes absorbed the brutal details of each of the pictures, Jarrod told his wife about the Seacombe murder case. She already knew a part of the facts, she was after all a trained journalist, but the gruesome photographs emphasised the full horror of what had happened and it cut her to the heart to think that her little son had seen them too.

Sarah glanced up at her husband, tears rolling down her face, "oh Jarrod," she said brokenly, "our poor little boy, his innocence has been shattered. How are we ever going to help him get over what he's seen?"

He was beside her at once, holding her close, she felt his kiss in her hair, "I know Darling, I'm so sorry, I'll do all that I can to help him, I'll try to explain to him as well as I'm able."

Sarah pulled herself gently free and looked sadly into Jarrod's face, they both knew the truth, something had been taken from their son, taken a good deal earlier than it should have been and nothing his parents could do was ever going to make the world the same for Jack Barkley, not ever again.

At length, Jarrod stood up, "I'd better go and have a talk with him," he said sighing slightly.

Sarah wondered how displeased the lawyer still was, "maybe we should let him rest," she suggested.

Jarrod shook his head, "I doubt very much if he's asleep and besides I've already put it off for too long. It isn't fair on Jack keeping him in suspense like this, it's time he faced me."

Part 7

Sarah's smile wavered, "I know I don't need to ask you to be kind to him," she said softly.

Jarrod smiled tenderly at her, "trust me Darling."

The lawyer went out of the living room and up the stairs to Jack's room. As he opened the door of the bedroom, Jarrod found himself hoping that the boy was sleeping, he was not looking forward to this interview one little bit. Jack was awake though, sitting up in bed, rigidly straight and as his father came in he flushed up to the roots of his hair. If Jarrod was not looking forward to this encounter, little Jack was absolutely dreading it.

It was true to say that Jarrod had been deeply angered by Jack's actions, but much of his ire had melted at the sight of the forlorn little figure sitting rigidly up in bed his pathetically apprehensive eyes fixed on his father's face. Jarrod came to sit on the side of the bed, saying as sternly as he could manage,

"Well Young Man, what have you got to say for yourself?"

"I...I'm very sorry Sir," faltered Jack.

"Sorry isn't nearly good enough Jack, I think you know that."

Jack couldn't meet his stern father's icy gaze any longer and dropped his eyes to the patterned quilt on his bed.

Jarrod spoke more gently, "why did you do it Son?"

Jack found the courage to look up and said earnestly, "I just wanted to know what you did, what your work was all about but...but I didn't know what it was...was like."

Jarrod sighed, "did you read the file Jack?"

The little boy shook his head, "not really, I saw the pictures and..." his voice trailed miserably away.

Jarrod understood, "you must have been very frightened by what you saw," he said gently.

There were tears rolling down Jack's face, he couldn't reply, but he nodded vigorously. Jarrod knew an urge to pick the boy up but there was still something he needed to know,

"Is that the reason you took the gun Jack?"

Again the little head nodded eagerly, "I had to," he said urgently, "how else was I going to be safe Papa?"

"I understand Son," said Jarrod kindly and held out his arms, "come here Jack, come and give Papa a big hug."

With a sob of relief, Jack launched himself at Jarrod, wrapping his arms around his father's neck in a suffocating hug. His tears were wet on Jarrod's neck as he unleashed a torrent of grief. The lawyer soothed the child as best he could and stood up with Jack in his arms. He grabbed a knitted shawl that lay at the foot of the bed and wrapping it round Jack, he sat in the bedside chair, with his son in his lap.

When Jack had cried away the worst of his distress Jarrod talked gently to him and told the little boy that he could ask his father anything that was troubling him about the photographs he had seen.


Jack whispered, "who was the little boy Papa?"

"His name was Tim Seacombe, his parents had a farm at the far end of the valley, some bad men came and robbed their farm. Mr and Mrs Seacombe were killed trying to defend their family."

"How...how old was Tim?"

Jarrod said gently, "he was the same age as you Jack."

"Why...why did the men kill him, he was just a little boy?"

"I don't know for sure but I think Tim may have tried to run away from them, so they shot him."

"I saw...I saw terrible wounds, what...what did they do to him Papa?"

"Those were burns Son, they left Tim very near to their campfire and the burns happened after he was dead."

Jack's voice was very scared, "I didn't know people hurt little boys," he whispered.

Jarrod's heart ached for his child, exposed far too young to the cruel brutality of the adult world. He sought for the right words to reassure his son.

"You shouldn't need to worry about things like this yet Jack, I guess you understand now why I don't want you looking in my briefcase don't you?"

"Yes, but...but things like this do happen, don't they Papa?"

"Yes," acknowledged Jarrod, "and I always intended to tell you how dangerous the world can be, though I hoped not to have to do that for a long time yet."

Jack raised his head from his father's breast, "but...if there are bad men like them, how can I be safe Papa?"

Jarrod chose his words with care, "sometimes bad things do happen to good people, but you can't spend your life waiting for them and you don't need a gun to protect yourself Jack, you have me and Mama for that, I want you to promise me faithfully that you won't ever touch a gun again, not until you're a good deal older and you've been properly taught to handle one, will you promise me that?"

"I promise," said Jack and fell silent thinking for a moment. Then he raised his head from Jarrod's breast and looked into his father's wonderful eyes, "what would happen to me and the twins if...if anything happened to you and Mama?"

Jarrod's voice was calm and reassuring, "your Uncle Nick and your Uncle Heath would look after you all."

The comfortingly solid images of his rancher uncles floated into Jack's consciousness and he felt insensibly cheered, it was hard to imagine any catastrophe with which those two men could not deal.
Jarrod wanted to be sure that there were no unanswered questions to trouble his little son.

"Jack is there anything else you want to ask me about all of this? think carefully because I don't want you to keep any secrets or worry or fret about anything at all."

Jack was feeling very much better, the tactile comfort of his father's arms around him and the fact that he no longer had any dark secrets to keep were combining to spread a sense of peace through the weary child, but it was hard to shake the gory image of the photographs from his mind.

"I just...wish I could forget the...the pictures I saw," he confessed.

"The memory of them will fade with time Son," said Jarrod gently.

He lifted Jack and turned him on his lap so that the little boy was facing him. He kept his voice gentle but it was time for a lesson,

"Now I want you to listen very carefully Jack, I know you've been through a very upsetting experience, but it all happened for one reason, because you didn't do as you were told, that's right isn't it Son?"

"Yes Sir," said a very crestfallen little voice.

"I don't make rules for any other reason than to do what's best for my children, so in future, if I tell you not to do something, don't do it or I'll make you smart for it, do you understand me Son?"

Yes Sir, I'm sorry Papa."

Jarrod drew him close again, "I know you are and when you've said sorry to three more people all this will be over."

Jack looked apprehensive again and Jarrod smiled, "no need to look so worried, but it has to be done. In a minute we're going down to see Mama and you can say sorry for worrying her and tomorrow you and I will ride over to see Uncle Nick."

Jack wasn't worried about going to see Uncle Nick, he adored his uncle and didn't think having shot him would affect their friendship a bit. But he knew well enough who the other person was to whom he owed an apology and his vivid eyes were clouded again as he looked at his father.

"I...shouldn't have lied to...to Keno should I Papa?"

"It's not how friends treat each other Jack," said Jarrod gently.

"Do...do you think Keno will still want to be my friend?"

"I guess we'll find out tomorrow Son."

The next morning Jarrod and Jack rode over to the Barkley mansion together and leaving their horses at the big barn, they walked to the house and went in through the big front door. Nick Barkley, his left arm in a sling, was just coming down the broad curving staircase and he halted at the bottom as the visitors came in.

Nick raised his good arm in a gesture of surrender, saying to his nephew, "all right Jack, I'll come quietly, no need to shoot me again!"

Jack didn't know whether to laugh or cry and Nick grinned at him, stooping down, "just kidding Soldier, come here to me."
Jack came to him at the run and Nick grimaced as the eager little body cannoned into his injured arm, he scooped Jack up laughing and carrying him in his good arm he came to greet Jarrod.

"Morning Jarrod, everything all right?"

"Everything's fine Nick, how's the arm?"

"Can't feel a thing," Nick assured him, adding, "if Heath asks, I can barely move!"

Jarrod laughed, after the anguish of yesterday it was pleasant to be sharing a joke with his brother, but there were still two pieces of unfinished business to resolve. The lawyer looked at Jack.

"Er...don't you have something to say to Uncle Nick?"

Jack smiled seraphically at Nick, "I'm really sorry I shot you Uncle Nick! I didn't mean to."

Nick grinned at the child he held, "well I'm glad about that!"

Jarrod spoke to his son, "come on Jack, let's go and find Keno then we'll come back and talk to Uncle Nick again."

Nick set his nephew on his feet and looked a query at his eldest brother, "Jarrod? About Keno..."
The lawyer smiled, "it's all right Nick, you and Heath still have a blacksmith."

Father and son headed for the forge hand in hand, they found Keno Nash there, trying on his own to move a huge ploughshare that no two other men could have budged. Jarrod released Jack's hand and went at once to the aid of the big man.

"Here Keno, let me help you with that!"

Keno's surprised eyes searched the lawyer's face as they shifted the heavy metal to the other side of the forge. They set it down and the blacksmith turned and faced his boss, he was rigid with tension and his expression was that of a man going to the gallows.
Jarrod understood, Nash was afraid that he was about to be dismissed. His time here at the Barkley ranch had been a happy time for him, Jarrod thought it was probably the most contented the former riverside hooligan had ever been. He had carved a niche for himself in the tightly knit Barkley team and won the respect of not only the hands but of Nick and Heath Barkley as well.

Jarrod wondered now, looking into the vulnerable face of Keno Nash, how he could ever have believed that the man would do him any injury. He smiled at the blacksmith and indicated his waiting son, whose face bore an expression almost as anxious as Keno's own.

"Keno, this young man has something he wants to say to you."

Obedient to the unspoken order in Jarrod's eyes, Jack came slowly forward looking sheepishly at his friend,

"Keno, I'm really sorry I lied to you...it...it isn't how friends treat each other and...and if you don't want to be my friend any more...I understand."

Keno stared down at the dirt and said quietly, "I guess if two people are real friends then they can forgive and forget, can't they?"

As he spoke, he looked up, not at Jack, but at Jarrod. The lawyer thought of his history with this man, Keno had put aside his bitterness after Jarrod had helped send him to prison, now it was his turn to do the same, Keno had been misguided, but not malicious.

"I think real friends can do that Keno," said Jarrod holding out his hand. The blacksmith gripped the outstretched hand with his own and shook it hard enough to make Jarrod wince.

Keno winked at Jack, "shall we make a decoration for your saddle?"

Jack grinned with relief, "yes please!"

Jarrod left them to it, walking slowly back to the house to keep Nick company for a while. He encountered Heath, just riding in from an early morning mission to repair a vital piece of fence. Heath grinned at his eldest brother and jerked his head in the direction of the house,

"Is Sleeping Beauty up yet?"

"Well he's up and dressed but I don't think he plans on doing any work today."

"Tell me something I don't know!" said Heath with bitter emphasis.

Laughing, Jarrod continued on his way to the house, in a week or two, it would be his task to ensure that the killers of the Seacombe family got what was coming to them, but until then Jarrod Barkley intended to relish the contented glory that was his own life. What he had told Jack was true, bad things happened to good people all the time, that was why it was so important to live every day to the full, work hard, do your best but savour every blessed and heaven sent moment.

THE END