The Hooky Playing Fiasco

Chapters 11-19

by MagdalenMary495

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.

Chapter 11

Sitting at the desk in the study, nursing a brandy, Jarrod felt old. What a weekend! Not one he’d care to relive anytime soon. Wistfully, he thought again, if I’d just stayed in San Francisco a week longer...look at all I’d have missed.

Coming home to find that Jenny had been thrown from Charger. Sitting up most of the night to make sure she was alright. Then having Billy missing. Jenny’s role in it. Finding out from Miss Fisher just how much mischief his own little miss had been up to the day before. Just remembering he felt old, tired and jerked out of his quiet, sober life. Too doddering to keep up with a rambunctious nine year old.

He’d been only too glad to turn Jenny over to her Grandmother when they arrived home after leaving the Duncan’s the day before. Before Jenny had time to pout, Mother had started her on the extra chores she’d earned by not coming home from school on time. Mother, Jarrod knew only too well from his own childhood, could be a stern taskmaster when it came to punishment chores. He felt almost guilty at having confined Jenny to the house. If she showed the slightest sign of boredom, Mother would pounce down on her with a curing chore.

Because he’d felt some sympathy for his naughty child, he’d sought out Nick again. It bothered Jarrod that Jenny kept insisting she’d seen a bank robbery. He knew only too well that Jenny would and did lie. He also knew his daughter. If she were caught in a lie, she admitted it. It wasn’t like Jenny to be so insistent in a lie.

“I’m just trying to find out the truth, Nick,” Jarrod found his brother in the barn, getting together the ropes and tools they’d need on the round up, “Humor me. Tell me again what you saw in the bank.”

Annoyed at having to repeat himself, Nick huffed out the same story he’d told twice already, “For the third and final time,” he glared at Jarrod to make sure he understood how nettled this conversation had made him, “I stopped off an’ talked to Mr. Ferguson. He showed me the gold, insisted on opening a few bags too, said he’d put it on the train Saturday morning, offered me a cup of coffee which I declined, thanked me and saw me to the door. And that is all!”

“Did he usually open the bags?”

“Come to think of it,” Nick stopped with a coil of rope in both hands, “that was a mite unusual. But then again, maybe he just wanted to make sure I saw the gold was there. You know we been having a lot of trouble with that McGraw and his men up at that mine. Maybe he just wanted to make sure they hadn’t found a way to steal the gold from the mine. How’d I know?”

Jarrod pondered that, kicking his boot heel against a bale of hay. Picking up a straw, he stuck it in his mouth while he watched Nick piling up rope, counting and marking down the amount on a small ledger. Nick scowled when he looked up to see Jarrod still there. “Any chance you’d want to help with this chore? Because if not, you’re in my way, big brother.”

“No, Nick, I’m sure you’ll do fine on your own.” Jarrod gave him a pleasant grin. “You’re certain, Nick, that the bank couldn’t have been robbed that day? Or that someone got shot?”

“Jarrod, for Jenny’s sake, I’d like to say she was telling the truth...but, no, the bank was not robbed. No one was shot. I was around Willoughby until almost sunset, spoke to the Sheriff on my way out of town and he remarked how calm a day it had been.”

“So then she and Billy must have already come up with that lie before she fell off Charger.”

Nick shrugged. “I thought when she told me about the bank robbers she was talking out of her head. She got a pretty good bump. Maybe she was just imagining things.”

“Maybe so.” Jarrod couldn’t begin to understand his daughter’s mind. After a fashion he could anticipate some of her moves, having been through Nick’s childhood. Her mental processes baffled him. “It’s just not like her to keep on telling a lie, especially after she’s been faced with the truth.”

“What if she thinks she is telling the truth?” Nick suggested. “It happens to everyone. You see something and think it’s real, like a mirage. Maybe Jenny saw something that just looked like a bank robbery.”

“You might be onto something there, Nick. I’d never thought of that.” A little sheepishly Jarrod admitted that he should have been the one to think of that angle. He’d questioned enough witnesses who thought they’d seen what had never happened.

Jarrod waited until Jenny had been put to bed to approach her with the idea. What had she seen that just looked like a bank robbery? Nick said no bank had been robbed. No one shot. Those were the facts, the true facts. What had Jenny and Billy seen? Or thought they'd seen?

Lying in bed, Jenny stuck out her lower lip and turned sullen. Refusing to answer. Obstinate child. Jarrod ground his teeth.

“Should we make your stay in the house a little longer, Jennifer?”

“You said I shouldn’t talk about that, not one word you said or I’d get spanked. I ain’t saying one word.”

I can be patient. I can be calm. I’ve talked to more reluctant witnesses in a courtroom, handling them with a masterful ease. I am older and wiser than this child. She is just a little girl. I am Jarrod Thomas Barkley. I have a law degree. I can reason with this child, get her to see the truth.

“Honey,” Jarrod ground out, his patience stretched taut, “I’m giving you permission to talk about the bank robbery. I want you to tell me again exactly what happened. I promise I won’t get angry.”

Jenny took a few minutes to think it over, twisting a dark curl through her fingers while she looked up at him in total innocence. “You promise you won’t yell?”
Jarrod promised, sitting beside her on the bed. Calmly he cupped his hands around one knee, nodding his head for her to begin.

Word for word, Jenny told the exact same story she’d told all along. If she were a witness to a crime, Jarrod would have shouted for joy. Her recall of detail and exact words that were spoken were nothing short of brilliant. If only it wasn’t all a lie. A damaging, cruel lie that could destroy several people’s lives and ruin a thriving business. A lie his little darling believed to be true. “If you were in court, Jenny, and had to swear on the Bible that this was true...”

“I would.”

“How can you look at me with a straight face and tell me such a monstrous lie, Jennifer Victoria Barkley?”

“You broke your promise! You said you wouldn’t yell! You just want me to lie again!”

Angered more than he cared to admit, Jarrod stood up pacing around the room. Jenny watched, cringing back into her pillow, her blue eyes fearful. Jarrod went to stand by the open window, letting a cool evening breeze wisp over his flushed face. Taking the time to look up at the stars, he drew a deep breath and walked back to his daughter.

“Jenny, I never want you to lie,” he sat down beside her, stroking her hair away from her face, “but I think that in this instance you don’t know what is a lie and what is the truth. You saw something, I believe that, but you didn’t see a bank robbery or a shooting.” Jarrod watched her lip tremble, saw the tears fill her eyes. Trying to be gentle, he offered her an explanation, “Sometimes we see things we think are true, but they aren’t.”

“It is true, Daddy.” Jenny persisted.

“No, Jenny, it isn’t.” His heart broke watching the tears fall , dripping across her cheeks...listening to her quiet sobs. It hurt to have her pull away from him, turn over on her side and hide her face in her pillow. Jarrod kept stroking her hair, determined not to get angry. There had been a few times in his life when he’d been so certain too...only to find out he’d believed a lie. “You remember what I told you today, honey, you are not to speak about this again. Ever. There was no bank robbery. No shooting. I don’t want to hear another word about it or else.”

Jarrod stood, bent to kiss his weeping child and left the room. Why was she so insistent? Why?



The first day of Jenny’s “incarceration” dragged along. A solid drizzle set Nick to pacing from room to room, window to window, grumbling about starting a round up in the mud. Heath, who knew he’d be spending days in the saddle soon enough spent a relaxing Sunday stretched out on the settee in the study enjoying a brisk fire. Mother and Audra joined him, sewing and chatting over a layette they were making for Mrs. Bisbain’s baby. Jarrod sat at the desk, feet up, pretending to read the Stockton Eagle, while trying to ignore his daughter.

Jenny lay stretched out on her stomach, paging through the Godey’s Lady’s Book. Ever few seconds, she made sure that the tip of one booted foot hit the desk just enough to jar Jarrod’s concentration. He’d been trying to find a rhythm to the bumps but Jenny very carefully kept him guessing. Thump. Wait. Thump. Wait and wait and wait. Thump. He could see that it had begun to annoy Mother and Audra as well. Mother’s vexed retort over missing a row of stitches in a baby blanket spurned Jarrod into action.

“Jennifer! Stop kicking this desk!”

She stopped. Only to start a few minutes later singing, deliberately off key, “As I walked down the streets of Laredo.”

Nick, pacing from the dining room, up the hall and back into the study put a stop to that. “Can’t you sing something more cheerful?” He growled. “A man’s gloomy enough without hearing about a dead cowboy.”

“Stop it, Jennifer!”

Stop it, Jenny. Don’t do this. Don’t do that. Don’t talk. Don’t sing. Don’t breathe. She looked up at Daddy. An old warden, that’s what he was. One of those bad ones Grandma always raged about in the newspapers. Dirty darn this was the longest day. If I could just go outside I’d find something to do.

“Stop kicking the desk!” Daddy shouted again. Jenny jumped not aware that she’d started to kick the desk.

“I didn’t mean to,” she tried to explain. Like that old warden cared. No he did not.

Jarrod stood up, stern and forbidding, threw the Stockton Eagle down on the desk. “Go to your room and take a nap! Now. Don’t come out until I get you for dinner!”

I didn’t do anything! Jenny yelled back, but only in her mind. Mean old warden putting her in solitary. Probably next she’d have to eat bread and water instead of that luscious ham she could smell all the way up the stairs to her room.

Once they heard Jenny slam her bedroom door and ignored it...twice, the sounds from upstairs stopped. Jarrod smiled an apology to his family. “She’s going to make our lives miserable if we let her.” He turned to Heath and Nick, “Just be glad you’ll be gone on a round up for most of the time. You, especially, Heath.”

Nick, standing by the window, began to laugh out loud, “Yeah, Heath, she sure cut you dead at lunch today. How many times did she ignore you when you asked her to pass the bread? Three wasn’t it? Until Pappy here snapped her back into shape.”

Jarrod’s brow creased, annoyed all over again at his stubborn little girl. “You just encourage her when you laugh at her, Nick. How am I going to teach her anything?”

From the settee, Heath’s quiet voice drawled, commanding attention, “Jenny oughta be entitled to her feelings. She’s grieving about her horse an’ I hadta be the one to take it away from her. I’d say she’s got a right to be mad at me.”

“She hasn’t any right to be disrespectful,” Jarrod told him, “and I won’t allow it no matter how angry she is about the horse. If she’d been behaving in the first place, you wouldn’t have had to punish her.” Jarrod picked up the newspaper, settled back behind the desk. “Don’t feel sorry for your niece. Feel sorry for Mother, Audra and I...we’re the ones who are going to have to endure her suffering.”

Victoria twined a strand of pale blue yarn around her finger beginning to crochet a neat ruffled edge to the baby blanket. “I’ll keep her busy.” She promised, smiling at Jarrod.

“Let’s hope so, Mother.” He answered opening up the Stockton Eagle again. “I have a feeling it’s going to be a long three weeks.”

Chapter 12

The drizzle Nick worried about had vanished by the time the sun spread over the horizon Monday morning. A clear, pearl gray sky tinged with a pink orange glow promised a fine day for the start of round up. Because Nick made so much noise trying to be quiet, Jarrod got up before daylight too, although reluctantly. He would have enjoyed a few more hours of sleep. Especially before turning Jenny over to Sister Patience.

After sharing a quick breakfast, set out by a still yawning Silas, Jarrod bid his brothers a cheerful good-bye. Part of him wanted to saddle up and ride out into the fresh, pine scented morning with them. Before the longing got too bad, his commonsense kicked in. He’d been on enough round ups to know they were no pleasure trips.

Going back upstairs, Jarrod peeked into Jenny’s room. It wasn’t time to wake her yet but he loved to watch her sleep. She always looked so sweet, so angelic. Moving quietly toward her bed, he smiled at the thumb in her mouth. Awake, she’d deny she’d slipped back into the habit. He caught her at it enough to know. He didn’t mind the thumb as much as he minded what she had clenched in her other fist, pressed to her cheek like a security blanket. One of his unwashed shirts.

While he found Jenny’s devotion touching, it embarrassed him to think about the ribbing he’d get from Nick or Heath if they found out about the shirts. He couldn’t remember just when Jenny had taken the notion that she wanted one of his shirts when he went away. One that “smells just like you’re still inside.” He’d indulged the whim, thinking she’d forget. Not Jenny. It became a secret between them that when he had to go away, he’d leave her a shirt under her pillow. He just hoped his brothers never found out.

Stirring a little in her sleep, Jenny’s fingers curled tighter around the shirt. Jarrod leaned over to kiss her, feeling a tenderness he wished he felt more often. Especially when she was awake.

Later, driving his grumpy daughter to school, Jarrod tried to remember fondly his daughter in sleep. Sweet. Angelic. Until she woke up with a frown. Prickly as a nettle. Seething over her restrictions. He sighed.

“Ha, ha,” Jenny spoke for the first time as they drove into the schoolyard, “looks like that dumb Billy didn’t get to go on the round up after all. Serves him right. Course, it looks like he’s still got his pony.”

Jarrod caught the undercurrent of resentment directed at him because she didn’t have hers. “I’m sure he feels as badly at missing the round up as you do not having Fancy and having to stay in the house.” He reminded her gently.

“He’s too dumb to feel bad,” Jenny disagreed, “an’ I’m still glad he couldn’t go. This is all his fault anyway.”

“You didn’t have to go along with him. You could have very simply said, no.”

Jenny chose to ignore that comment. Maybe on the grounds that it might incriminate her.
“Sister Patience is back,” she said instead, seeing the nun come out of the school to stand on the top step of the building. Greeting children as they walked on inside. “At least she don’t know anything.”

“Um, Jenny,” Jarrod had dreaded this moment. “I’m afraid she does.”

Jenny’s eyes widened in alarm as she turned to look at him, “No she doesn’t! She couldn’t! Miss Fisher left before she got back.”

“Jenny, she would have known anyway once she looked at the roll and saw you and Billy were absent from school on Friday,” Jarrod avoided looking at her eyes, demanding an explanation, “but the truth is...”

“You told her!” Jenny accused. Flinging back the black hat she wore with an impatient gesture that reminded him of Nick.

“Yes, I told her.”

“Why?” Jenny wailed, “Now we’ll get in trouble from her too! Why did you have to tell her?”

“Don’t you think she would have found out anyway? Half the valley was out searching for Billy Saturday. I’m sure the story of your hooky playing is common gossip by now...”

Furious, Jenny wiped away angry tears, “I don’t care! You didn’t have to tell her.” Jenny flounced out of the buggy, looking back up at him to say bitterly, “Why do you always have to be so legal all the time? Do you always gotta be a lawyer an’ do everything right? You don’t care what happens to me at all...you, you.. “ Jarrod couldn’t be sure but he thought she muttered under her breath “old warden.”

“Honey...”

Without waiting for him to finish, Jenny ran toward the school. Jarrod watched as Billy caught up with her. Apparently forgetting that they were no longer friends, he greeted her warmly. Jenny stopped long enough to shove his shoulder hard knocking him into the dusty schoolyard. Someday I’ll have to speak to her about that, Jarrod thought, but not today. She’s on school grounds. I’ll let Sister Patience handle it.

“Jennifer Barkley! William Duncan!” Sister Patience voice snapped out over the crowd of shouting, laughing children. “I wish to speak to you two! This instant!”

Deliberately, Jarrod didn’t look back as he turned the horse and buggy toward the Livery. It looked like another long day. He wondered again as he had so often in the past. How did Mother and Father do this every day? There were four of us and one of them was Nick.

Jarrod didn’t expect Jenny until well past dismissal time. Sister Patience took a dim view of hooky playing. She’d be sure to have some apt sentences the two would be writing. Jarrod hoped Jenny would learn something from all this...at the very least not to listen to Billy. He wasn’t counting on it but a little cautious optimism couldn’t hurt.

An hour after most of the other children had raced by his office window, laughing and calling to one another in the sun, his own little thundercloud arrived. Shutting the office door firmer than necessary but not enough to be accused of slamming it, Jenny stomped into the room. Jarrod looked up from behind the desk where he’d been reading through a contract. Glaring at him, Jenny stamped over to the sofa, threw her books and herself down. She crossed her arms over her chest, thrust out that lower lip and glowered.

Lifting his eyebrows, Jarrod asked, “Hard day?”

Jenny’s careful shield of anger collapsed. Bursting into tears, she unleashed a torrent of frustration, “You shouldn’t have told her! Me and Billy have to stay in from recess for a whole week and stand in the corner. We have to stay after school too and write some dumb sentences on the blackboard! All week! And it’s all your fault!”

Briefly, he thought of reminding her that he wasn’t the one who played hooky. Or telling her not to feel sorry for herself. She’d brought it all on herself. Instead, he let his heart rule. Getting up from behind the desk, he walked over, picked her up, sat her on his lap and tried to make it better. For a few minutes she was still too mad to let him pull her close. She sat stiffly on his lap, resisting any comfort.

“Jenny, Jenny, you make life so much harder on yourself than it has to be. If you’d just think before you act.”

“I do,” Jenny cried, slumping back against his chest, letting him press her head close to his heart, “but then I do it anyway.”

Jarrod let her cry a few minutes longer, stroking her dark curls and whispering soothing words. When he thought she’d cried herself out, he took out a handkerchief , helped her wipe her eyes and blow her nose. Against his better judgment, he probably shouldn’t reward her now, Jarrod pulled a small blue velvet jewelry box from his vest pocket.

“Here, open this.”

“What is it?” Jenny sniffed away the last of her tears, curiosity making her sit up straighter, eyes focused on that enticing box.

“Didn’t I promise to bring you a present from San Francisco?”

Jenny nodded. “But you said only if I was a good girl.”

“I suppose you tried, Jenny.” Jarrod picked up her hand, placed the box in it and watched while she opened it. Delighting in the way her eyes widened and sparkled, the little dimple in her left cheek as she smiled her joy.

“Oh, Daddy,” she squealed, “it’s beautiful!”

Jenny’s fingertips touched the heart shaped locket resting on the satin lining of the box. “It’s gold! And that’s me...JVB,” she read the initials, tracing the pattern of leaves and flowers engraved in the tiny front. “Can you help me put it on?”

Lifting her curls, Jarrod put the locket around her neck and clasped it shut. Kissing the spot where her hair parted in back.

Jenny picked it up, pulling it out from the front of her pink dress for a closer look. “It’s the prettiest necklace I ever had. “ She reached up to put both arms around his neck and bring him closer for a kiss. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“You’re very welcome. Maybe when you look at it you’ll remember to think before you act.”

“I’ll try,” she promised happily, admiring the new locket by holding it up to shimmer in the sunshine coming through the window.

“And Jenny, maybe if you behave yourself this week I’ll see about reducing your sentence a little. I wouldn’t want you to think of me as an old warden.”

Jenny had the grace to blush in shame and duck her head. “I didn’t think you heard that. I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“I know you are,” he squeezed her so tight in a hug she giggled. Jarrod’s conscience reproached him about the contract waiting to be finished, the will he needed to write out for another client. He ignored all the nagging thoughts to hold his daughter, trying not to be saddened by the idea that all too soon she’d be too big to sit on his lap.

Thankfully, the next few days were relatively calm. Jenny gave in gracefully to being confined in the house, doing without her pony. There were moments when she chafed at the restrictions but one glance from her Grandmother–with an “I’ve got another chore for you to do” look usually quelled any complaints. Audra came up with a crochet project for Jenny, who happily spent her evenings by the fire finishing baby sweaters and caps. Or begging Jarrod to read out loud or play pool with her. Not to be thought of as an “old warden”, he usually spoiled her by doing both.

He also ignored the way she dawdled outside, cleaning the horse stalls Heath had assigned her before he left. Noticing too that Mother, Silas and Audra often found little jobs that needed Jenny’s attention outside the house. She didn’t seem to be suffering much at all except when she looked longingly at anyone riding a horse. Jarrod practiced turning a deaf ear to her deep sighs and yearning. “A month is so long, Daddy.” After all, he had to be stern about something.

Dirty darn. A month sure was a long time not to go riding. Especially when you still had twenty-two days to go.

Jenny swished a feather duster half heartedly over Daddy’s books. It wasn’t so awful having to clean Daddy’s office while he worked. She got him to herself for a little while, even if he mostly just grunted when she asked questions or told her to be quiet so he could concentrate. Still, she loved being with Daddy while he worked. If his shoulders ached from bending over his desk too long, he’d let her rub them. Or if he wasn’t too awful busy, he’d let her sit by the desk and pretend she was his secretary while she finished her homework.

The only really bad thing about having to spend so much time with Daddy was that it was getting harder and harder to keep her promise. The one about not talking about the bank robbery. About the only person she’d been able to talk to had been Billy, whose folks didn’t believe him either. Neither one of them could figure out what to do about the Dude. Jenny’d already had two nightmares about seeing the Dude shot. Both times when Grandma and Daddy came running to see why she’d screamed out, she’d had to lie and say it was a wolf. The dream was about a scary wolf coming to eat her.

Jenny kept thinking that maybe the Dude had died from being shot. Maybe he had a little girl waiting for him to come home and he never would. Or maybe he was just hurt real bad and needed help. Billy tried to tell his Ma but she threatened to take a switch to him if he didn’t stop telling fibs. Jenny thought Sister Patience might understand but when she tried to ask her, Sister got all riled up and asked if Jenny had been reading dime novels again. When she warned she’d have to send a note to Daddy, Jenny had to lie again and say she’d just been dared to ask Sister to make her mad. Which earned her an extra after school board writing session.

Dirty darn but it was hard to get grown ups to listen to anything.

“What is all that ruckus?” Daddy glanced up, annoyance crinkling up his forehead.

Jenny ran to look out the window, liking the brisk, cheery sound of bells tinkling and a lively mouth harp that made her feet feel dancy. Staring out into the street, she saw the back of a brightly painted wagon, a happy mix of red and sunny yellow passing.

“Looks like a peddler. Or maybe a gypsy wagon.” Jenny sighed, watching some of her classmates, that darn Billy included, scampering after the wagon. “Sure wish I could go out and see it.”

Must be one of Daddy’s warden days. He snapped, irritated by the noise, the children laughing and yelling with delight, “If wishes were horses, beggars would ride!” Pushing back his chair, he slammed the window closed before sitting back down. Old warden. Old pinched face warden.

Pouting, Jenny took the darned feather duster back to the darned books. Just as she’d finished one row and begun on another, Daddy’s office door banged open. Billy barged in without knocking, his face so bleached even Daddy jumped up in alarm asking, “What’s wrong, Billy?”

“Please, Mr. Barkley, sir, Counselor, Lawyer, sir, I gotta speak to Jenny please.”

Jarrod, annoyed at being disturbed, gave a nod of consent. “Hurry it up.”

Billy dragged Jenny out into the hall. Moving his mouth three times before he got enough air in his lungs to speak, he finally managed to gasp out, “The Dude! I saw the Dude! He’s alive and he’s right here in Stockton!”

Chapter 13

“The Dude,” Jenny whispered, chilled just thinking about him crumpling to the ground, blood oozing out of a wound.

“Yeah, did you see that peddler’s wagon go by?” Jenny nodded. “It was him. Old Fancy dude with his top hat an’ all.”

Jenny struggled to absorb the news. “Did he look like he’d been shot?”

“Coulda been,” Billy answered, pressing back around the corner of Jarrod’s office door. “He was kind of favoring his right side it looked like.” Peeking at Jarrod, bent over paperwork at his desk, Billy grabbed Jenny’s arm pulling her toward the front door. “You gotta come now so we can talk to him.”

“No!” Jenny shouted a little too loudly. Dirty darn, the old warden heard.

“Jennifer, that’s enough. Come finish this dusting.”

“Ask if you can come with me,” Billy urged, “if the Dude would talk to us, maybe the grown ups would believe we really did see a bank robbery. If he’d admit he got shot...”

“Jennifer!”

“I can’t! He won’t let me.”

“C’mon, Jenny, sneak out or something.” Billy pressed, edging toward the outer door.

“Jenny! Get in here!”

To make sure she obeyed, Jarrod stood up and walked firmly toward the doorway. “Run along, Billy, Jenny has chores to do.” He tugged, none too gently, on a curl pulling her back inside. Pouting, rubbing her head, Jenny told Billy a sullen “bye,” making certain to scuff the tip of her boots along the floor to show her annoyance.

Leaving, Billy mouthed, “C’mon!” Jenny shook her head, mouthing back, “I can’t.” Which didn’t go unobserved by old Counselor Sees All Barkley. Eyebrows raised, he looked down at her and asked, “Planning more mischief?”

“No.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Go finish dusting the books. I’ll go get the buggy in a few minutes.”

With more frustration than wisdom, Jenny groused, “Maybe I don’t wanna dust books.”

“Do it anyway,” he shot back, unperturbed. He began to sort papers on his desk for Miss Montgomery to file in the morning. Choosing to ignore the way Jenny beat at the book spines with the feather duster.

Do it anyway. Dirty darn. Jenny waited until his back was turned to stick out her tongue. Dusting boring old books when the Dude was right outside. Dirty, dirty darn.

“Daddy,” Jenny decided to try a little of what Aunt Audra called, feminine wiles. Laying down the duster, Jenny walked over to stand beside Daddy. As he laid down a contract, she grabbed tight hold of one hand, twisting her small fingers through his big strong ones. “Daddy,” she coaxed, peeking up at him from under her dark lashes, flirting with a smile, “couldn’t I just go…”

“No.”

Dirty darn. Maybe you had to be older for feminine wiles to work. Lower lip thrust out, Jenny dropped his hand. If smiles didn’t work, maybe sulking? “Why not?” Kicking at the desk, Jenny whined, “I just want to go see the peddler. Everybody else gets to go, everybody except me. I have to stay inside and dust boring old books. I never get to do anything…”

“Jenny,” he interrupted, “do you want something to really cry about?”

“I got enough to cry about,” Jenny grumbled, deciding she’d best get back to dusting or she’d have one more thing to make her cry. Noticing the amused grin on the old warden’s face. Sure, he could smile. He didn’t have anything to worry about, not like her. Grown ups had the best life.

“I’ll go get the buggy now,” he spoke up a few minutes later. “I’ll be right back.”

Jenny sat down on the sofa. Watched as Daddy shrugged into his gray suit jacket, pulled his Stetson from the hat rack and sat it smartly on his head. “I’ll be right back,” he repeated as he walked out the door.

He’d no sooner left than Billy came barging back inside. “C’mon, quick! Let’s go talk to the Dude.”

“No.” Jenny pressed her feet firmly into the oriental carpet on the floor, refusing to budge. “I can’t. I’m in enough trouble already.”

Billy rolled his eyes. “So when did that ever stop you? If we talk to the Dude, we might get out of trouble.”

Jenny doubted the wisdom of that. Billy’s idea having a way of going crookeder than a one legged rooster. “I don’t know, Billy. Daddy’s coming right back.”

“So we got to hurry!” Billy yanked her off the sofa. Tripping, following, Jenny let him lead her out the door and door the dusty street toward the brightly colored peddler’s wagon.

Sure enough, the Dude. Pin striped coat, top hat and all. Up close, Jenny noticed the funny quirk to his lips, the rapid blinking of his green eyes. One side of his wagon opened into a small platform plastered with a huge, hand painted advertisement for “Miss Beecham’s Miracle Salve.” Striding across the platform, holding up a small brown jar with his left hand, the Dude cajoled a growing crowd with the benefits of the miracle product. Watching, Jenny found herself wooed by the intriguing saga of Miss Beecham, accidentally left behind in the desert after a stagecoach mishap.

“And my friends,” the Dude sang out, using his voice to play words up and down like a well practiced melody. “Miss Beecham discovered the truly miraculous benefits of an obscure cactus. Badly sunburned, covered in oozing blisters, dying of thirst, more ills than a human should endure. Dear Miss Beecham stumbled upon this cactus by Divine Providence and was instantly cured of all her miseries.”

The crowd murmured appreciation of Miss Beecham’s ingenuity. Jenny squinted up at the painted portrait of the lady on the sign. All fancified, up swept hair, painted cheeks and enormous puffed sleeves dripping with ribbon and lace. “She doesn’t look like she’d know a cactus from a cottontail,” Jenny commented to the amusement of a grizzled miner standing behind her. Billy nudged her to silence. “Well, she doesn’t.”

“Because this dear, sweet soul could no more keep this amazing secret to herself than a bee can stop collecting nectar, she has bottled this salve to bring to you fortunate people of Stockton. And for one small, insignificant dollar, you can have in your possession a jar of Miss Beecham’s Miracle Salve. Now, who will be the first to try this amazing product?”

The Dude held out the jar hopefully. Pacing along the platform in his fancy, gold buckled shoes, he waved the jar toward the crowd. Most of the people, happy at the diversion of a peddler, were less willing to part with a hard earned dollar. While the Dude kept smiling at prospects, most of the crowd wandered away until only Jenny, Billy and a few chattering housewives with market baskets over their arms were left.

“Hey, Mister,” Billy called out bravely, “weren’t you in Willoughby awhile back?”

“What?” Jenny saw the sudden trembling of the Dude’s hand as he packed away the jar of salve. “I’ve been a good many places little boy. Run along home now.”

“Doncha recognize me...” Billy began just as the miner who’d chuckled at Jenny came back up to the wagon.

“Reckon I’ll try me a jar of that salve. Got a purty picture on the label even if the insides don’t work.”
The Dude’s whole countenance changed. Jubilant. “Certainly, my good man! You’ll never regret it.” He grinned, pocketing the silver dollar the miner handed over. Handing the miner the salve. All with his left hand, Jenny couldn’t help but notice.

Driving the Barkley buggy out of the Livery, Jarrod glanced down the street toward the peddler’s wagon recognizing at once a familiar, pink dress. A dress with an obstinate, disobedient child he knew quite well. Jarrod’s patience snapped. Wait; just wait until he got his hands on that girl. Pushing down the brake with an angry shove, he parked the buggy.

“Jennifer! Didn’t I tell you to wait for me?”

Dirty darn. Daddy. Wouldn’t you know? He sure looked madder than a bull stalking toward her. When he got close enough, he squeezed her upper arm in a tight hold as he leaned over to hiss, “Just you wait until we get back to the office! I have had enough, Jennifer Victoria.”

“But, Daddy,” Jenny hoped to defend herself, “it’s him. It’s the Dude. The man who got shot in Willoughby. Ask him Daddy.”

Jarrod, past believing anything this child said, ignored her pleas. “Come with me.”
He tried to make her follow. Jenny stood her ground, refusing to budge. Jarrod tugged, exasperated at her disobedience in pulling away from him. He didn’t believe in publicly punishing Jenny but as she struggled against him, Jarrod thought seriously of giving her a couple of well deserved smacks. If people hadn’t been watching, amused at his discomfiture with his daughter, he would have.

“It’s true, Mr. Barkley,” Billy took up Jenny’s defense. “Ask him if he didn’t get shot over in Willoughby.”

“What’s that?” The miner asked, interested in any tidbit of gossip. “You say this here peddler got shot, sonny? Did you use your Miracle Salve there, Mister?” He guffawed.

If Jarrod hadn’t looked up then, he’d have missed the sudden look of fear that haunted the peddler’s eyes. A look Jarrod had seen in too many witnesses or clients. The man was afraid of being found out. He was indeed hiding something.

“You recognize me too, dontcha, Mister?” Billy pressed. “Cause I was there when you got shot.”

Jarrod quit struggling to pull Jenny away. “Do you? Recognize the boy?”

”I assure you, sir,” the man lied, “I was never shot in my life. I am a respectable peddler.” The man’s voice quivered uncertainly over the words.
Jarrod knew, without a doubt in his mind that the man lied.

“You did too get shot,” Jenny blurted out, “it’s why you don’t use your right hand!”

Jarrod looked at Jenny’s eyes. Seeing what he’d overlooked before. Jenny had told him over and over about a “dude” who got shot in Willoughby. He hadn’t believed her until now. Here was indeed, a man she recognized. A man who lied about being shot.
And Jenny knew exactly where he’d been shot. Jarrod began to wonder just what other part of her story might be true.

Billy’s voice rang out, drawing back an interested crowd of bystanders, “See how he favors that right side! Me and Jenny both know it’s where he got shot!”

One of the housewives shouted out, “Why don’t you try Miss Beecham’s Salve if it’s “good for what ails you,”” she taunted, reading from the advertisement written across Miss Beecham’s chest in scrolling white ribbon.

“I assure you, Madam,” the Dude pulled himself up haughtily, “if I had been shot the miraculous properties of Miss Beecham’s salve would have been my salvation. However, I have never been shot.”

“You were too!” Jenny screamed back. “You got shot by those bank robbers!”

Oh, dirty darn. Instantly, Jenny realized she’d made a gigantic mistake. Breaking her promise not to mention the bank robbers.

“Bank robbers?” Another of the women overheard. “Mr. Barkley, was the bank robbed? Here in Stockton?”

“Our bank robbed?” Another fearful voice spread the gossip.

As the crowd, rapidly growing began to murmur, spread rumor and suppose, Jarrod sensed what he’d known would happen if Jenny mentioned a bank robbery. Panic. Damaged trust.

“No,” he laughed at the idea, calming the crowd with his assurances. Using his position as one of the community’s most trusted citizens to allay their fears. “The Stockton Bank hasn’t been robbed. You have nothing to fear.”

“The people in Will…” Jenny spoke out before Jarrod clamped a firm, quieting hand over her mouth. “As most of you know, my daughter has a very vivid imagination. First she imagines that this fine peddler was shot, then she comes up with the fanciful story that there was a bank robbery.” Jarrod lied though his teeth, hoping that the crowd believed him if the peddler didn’t. He needed more time to think about the peddler.

“Humph,” one of the women grunted, annoyed at getting her dander up for nothing. “Sounds like someone needs a trip over her Father’s knee. If she were mine, she wouldn’t be out spreading stories like that.”
“I’d wash her mouth out with soap,” another woman agreed as they gave Jarrod disapproving glances. Walking away as they gossiped, no doubt, about that poor Mr. Barkley with his wayward child.

Jarrod smiled, trying to look as if he might agree. Busybodies! Talk about needing mouths washed out. He nodded at the peddler who continued to look wary. Wondering if Jarrod believed his story. Jarrod hoped the man wouldn’t bolt. Not until he could make sense of Jenny’s story.

Before he could stop her, Jenny managed to pull his hand from her mouth. “I don’t got an imagination! The bank in…” Jarrod’s hand squashed that quickly. This time he took no chances. Pinning her arms to her sides, he used his free hand to pick her up around the waist holding her in the crook of his arm. Using as much dignity as he could muster, Jarrod turned to the Dude and the miner, “If you’ll excuse me, I must be going.”

Billy opened his mouth to protest. After Jarrod leveled a fierce glare at him, Billy wisely chose to keep his thoughts unspoken. Gulping out a hurried, “Bye, Jenny. Bye, Mr. Barkley,” Billy took off down the street at a fast lope.

Jarrod began the long walk back to the office in what he hoped looked like a dignified pace. Rather hard with a squirming, wriggling bundle of Barkley tucked under his arm.
“Hold still,” he said through clenched teeth at regular intervals. A well placed smack might keep her still but Jarrod didn’t dare uncover her mouth where she could be heard. No telling what she’d blurt out next. He could see the headlines blazed across the Stockton Eagle. “PROMINENT ATTORNEY’S DAUGHTER CAUSES PANIC OVER FALSE BANK ROBBERY.’

He’d almost made it back to the office when he ran straight into trouble. Annoying trouble with a capital M.

Chapter 14

Why me? Jarrod thought. Why today? Trouble with a capital M. Not the Montgomery Sisters. Not today with this irrepressible child struggling to get out of my arms. I will never be able to explain this to their satisfaction. Never.

“Ladies,” Jarrod smiled pleasantly at the two elderly spinster sisters he’d known all his life. They always wore identical violet dresses, trimmed with exactly 4 yards of pink grosgrain ribbon and white poke bonnets. Convention dictated that he tip his hat. Jarrod faced the dilemma of either being thought impolite or taking his hand off Jenny’s mouth. At the risk of the sister’s ultimate disapproval, he hoped a nod sufficed. Not daring to give her an opportunity to speak. Jenny had been known to verbally spar with the pair, usually with Nick’s encouragement.

“Hello, Nicholas,” Miss Agnes greeted him, peering over the half lenses of her glasses. Mistaking him as usual. “Why are you holding your child like that?”

“Tisn’t Nicholas,” Miss Lucy protested, “it’s the one who thinks he’s a lawyer, Thomas.”

“Now, Sister,” Agnes’ chins quivered with righteous indignation, “Even I know that Thomas was the father of all those children! And this certainly looks like Nicholas to me. Only he would have a wiggling, uncontrollable child like that.”

Smiling, with difficulty, Jarrod corrected as gently as possible, “I believe you’ve mistaken me for my brother, Nick, Ladies. I’m Jarrod. I am a lawyer.” I am a lawyer. I have a law degree. I am an intelligent man. I can handle this child. I am older and wiser.

“Oh, yes, of course, you are,” Miss Lucy agreed, whispering to her sister from the side of her mouth, “he’s the handsomest of the lot , you know. Look at those blue eyes. My, my.”

Jarrod had the grace to blush. Although wondering a second later just which Barkley Miss Agnes meant. He wasn’t the only one with blue eyes.

“And who’s this, “ Miss Lucy asked, poking Jenny on one arm. Jenny began to kick her legs in anger. “Why, Agnes, it is that Nicholas’ child. It’s that nasty little girl who picked all my prize winning dahlias then had the audacity to come to my door selling them for the benefit of the orphan asylum.”

“That’s right! Then we saw her the next day, spending the money we’d given her to buy candy at the General Store. Stuffing her mouth full. Just like that Nicholas Barkley! Do you remember when he picked all dear Father’s gladiolas that year?”

Fighting for a tighter grip on Jenny, Jarrod seriously considered denying his daughter. “Ladies, I must confess, this nasty little girl is mine.”

“Never,” the sisters spoke together, “you wouldn’t have a child like that.”

“I do and as I told you before, I’m very sorry about the dahlias. I’m sure she got that idea from my brother, Nick.” Sure? I’m positive. Even Jenny admitted she’d gotten the idea from Nick’s story of his exploits. He’d even congratulated her on conning more money out of the Montgomery’s than he’d gotten.

“Why are you holding that child like that, Nicholas?” Miss Lucy asked again as if the entire conversation hadn’t occurred. “Has she been stealing flowers again?”

“No, Ladies. If you’ll excuse me...” Jarrod tired to bow away as gracefully as possible but Miss Agnes blocked his way.

“Now, Nicholas, we don’t hold it against you because you have an uncontrollable child.” She leaned in to whisper, “Maybe it was a defect that ran in the family, don’t you know. Your wife’s family.”

Jarrod considered briefly setting Jenny on her feet. His arms had begun to ache. While Jenny had always been small for her age, she was still sturdy and in constant motion. “Ladies, I really must leave.”

“Now, don’t run off, dear.” Miss Lucy smiled brightly. “You did make the child pay restitution for taking the flowers. She did a fine job of weeding the garden both those weekends you made her work...”

“Yes, Lucy, but don’t you remember when I offered her a glass of lemonade she had the audacity to tell me it wasn’t sweet enough?” Her lips trembled with the remembered insult. Glaring at Jenny.

“Well, Agnes, dear, you do have a tendency to be sparing of the sugar. The child was right.”

“Well!”

“And the child did do a fine job of weeding that garden in the heat without so much as a cool drink except that sour lemonade. I’m sure she’s a good child at heart. She’s a Barkley, after all.”

“Ladies,” Jarrod stated firmly, positively, I am moving, NOW! “I must be going.”

“Oh, yes, goodbye, Heath.”

“That wasn’t Heath it was Eugene.”

Well, Jarrod thought, I wasn’t mistaken for Mother or Audra.

Arriving back in his office, Jarrod finally dared to take his hand away from Jenny’s mouth. “Don’t say a word. Not one word.”

Hot, sweating, his arms quivering from holding onto his scowling daughter, Jarrod slammed the door. He was too drained to do more than give Jenny one half hearted swat that didn’t seem to connect to any part of her body and stand her in a corner. Jenny began to cry at once as hard as if he’d beaten her and chained her to the wall.

Going to a decanter he kept for clients, Jarrod poured a stiff whiskey. He needed it. Badly. Downing that, he poured a second before he walked on shaking legs to sit down behind the desk. So confused at that point, the thought crossed his mind....maybe I really am Nick or Heath? He felt the familiar contours of his desk, settled back in the well worn hollows of his desk chair before he felt secure in the knowledge that he was still Jarrod. At that point it was the only thing he knew with absolute certainty. Meeting up with the Montgomery Sisters caused his mind to reel. And the peddler...what was he to think of the peddler?

There was a Dude. He was a real person. A man Jenny and Billy had both seen before.. Jarrod had read recognition of Billy in the Dude’s eyes. He knew Billy and he was afraid of what Billy saw. He hadn’t seemed to know Jenny. Which fit with the story Jenny told about that day in Willoughby. Uncomfortable as he was with the thought, Jarrod found himself admitting a truth he’d fought for too long. Jenny might be telling the truth.

He still couldn’t reconcile the idea that Mr. Ferguson had anything to do with a bank robbery. It didn’t fit with what Jarrod knew of the man, his life. Still, Jenny had seen something. What, he couldn’t imagine. Jenny described, with a child’s eye, what she’d seen. It wasn’t necessarily the whole truth. Or even the truth at all. It might just be Jenny’s perception of the truth.

Jarrod finished his drink, trying to ease the tightness behind his eyes and wash away the annoyance at meeting with the Montgomery Sisters, the Dude and the gossips of Stockton. He needed a level head to figure out this whole situation. He’d never quite believed that Jenny would ride Charger just to prove she could. Or that she and Billy were stupid enough to hide Billy, knowing sooner or later someone would notice he was missing. And why just hide Billy when Jenny was just as guilty of hooky playing? None of it made sense. Usually, once he’d gotten to the twisted bottom of it, Jenny’s ideas began to have a semblance of order. Odd though they might be. It only began to make sense if he looked at it in the context of Jenny and Billy fleeing bank robbers. No, Jenny and Billy thinking they were running from bank robbers.

“Jenny, come here.”

Rubbing her eyes, sobbing, Jenny came toward him, blubbering all the way. “Please, Daddy, please, don’t be angry. I didn’t mean to talk about the bank robbery. I forgot. I’m sorry. I’m truly, truly sorry. Please don’t spank me. I won’t do it again. I promise.”

“Jenny, if you tell me you lied about the bank robbery, I won’t spank you.”

Jenny cried harder. Just as Jarrod expected.

“Are you going to admit you lied?”

“I didn’t. Please believe me, Daddy, please.”

Words of the Montgomery sisters passed through his mind, “I’m sure she’s a good child at heart.” The good child at heart often held a little liar. Jarrod had no illusions about that. Still, he knew that often Jenny’s lies weren’t deliberate. She just looked at the truth from a different, though wrong, viewpoint. Usually, he knew exactly when Jenny lied. He could read it in her eyes. She wasn’t lying now.

“Alright, Jenny.”

“Please, Daddy, please. I’m telling the truth. Please don’t spank me.”

“I’m not.”

For a startled moment, Jenny’s tears stilled. Until the thought that if one punishment was out, another was in crossed her mind. “Oh, Daddy, please don’t make me stay in the house longer.
Please! I’ll shrivel up and die if I have to stay inside more. I’ll be a good girl. I promise.”

“I’m not going to do that either, Jenny.” Standing up, wearier than he’d ever been, Jarrod reached for her hand, “Let’s go home.”

Too shocked at this unexpected turn of events, at Daddy’s sudden gentleness, Jenny stopped crying. Dirty darn. Maybe she had finally driven him crazy. Dr. Merar often told her she might. Grandma always said he meant to tease her but Jenny couldn’t be sure. Dr. Merar looked awful serious when he said it.

All the way home, Daddy appeared to be thinking. Thinking hard like he did when he had an important case coming up. His brow creased with worry lines. Blue eyes staring off at something she couldn’t see.

As they pulled up near the barn, Daddy didn’t make a move to get out. “Tell your Grandmother I had to go back into Stockton. I’ll be home after while.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Jenny answered quietly, unsure about this undisturbed Daddy. He’d been so angry earlier, lugging her through the street like a sack of horse feed. Now that exasperation had vanished. Maybe Dr. Merar was right.

Jenny stood up, careful not to jar the buggy or nettle him.

“Jenny,” he said. Jenny turned back to face him, poised in the act of jumping out, “I want you to play outside this afternoon.” He cupped her face in his hands, smiling, “Put some roses back in those cheeks.”

“Thank you, Daddy.” If he was insane, she couldn’t say she minded. He sure was a lot nicer today.

“Jarrod,” Victoria whispered as Jarrod returned home later that evening, “I was beginning to wonder what delayed you?”

“You didn’t have to wait up,” he scolded gently as he took off his hat, coat and gun belt. “I was later than I expected to be.”

At her questioning look, Jarrod motioned for her to follow him into the parlor. She sat in her favorite chair while Jarrod fell wearily onto the sofa, stretching out his feet on the marble table. Too tired to pull off his boots.

“I went back to Stockton, looking for a man Jenny calls, the Dude.” Almost too spent to put one word after another, Jarrod began to explain about the peddler, his change of heart and the idea that Jenny might possibly be telling the truth.

“Oh, now, Jarrod,” Victoria protested, “you can’t seriously believe that Mr. Ferguson was involved in a bank robbery? Why, your Father and I knew him for years. Nick and Heath have done business with him for over six years...ever since he became President of the bank in Willoughby.”

Jarrod shook his head. “I don’t know. I just don’t know. What I do know are several facts. The Dude is real. He recognized Billy. Jenny knew the man, knew he favored his right side where she says he was shot. And most importantly of all...the Dude is on the run.”

Quickly, he told the story of his unsuccessful search for the yellow and red peddler’s wagon and the man who drove it. “According to Fred, the Dude left Stockton almost as soon as Jenny and Billy confronted him on the street. He saw the man pull out, wondered at the man’s short stay but didn’t think any more about it. I followed his trail all the way to Dawson’s Ridge. Sam McGuffey thought he saw him, moving fast, toward the old Fort Montgomery road. I’m going to try to sleep a few hours and head that way.”

“Do you feel it’s that important, Jarrod?”

“Mother, Jenny knew the man. I have to talk to him. It’s time I knew the truth.”

Neither spoke for a brief time. Victoria stared into the fire, planning practically to make Jarrod up some food to take along. No telling how long he’d follow the Dude’s illusive trail. Her son could be tenacious, especially when it came to finding the truth.

Yawning, Jarrod forced himself to his feet. “Guess I’d best head to bed if I’m getting up with the sun.” Passing Victoria’s chair, he leaned down for a good night kiss. “Good night, Mother.”

“Good night. Oh, Jarrod...as you go up will you let the fireflies out of Jenny’s room?”

“Fireflies?”

“Yes,” Victoria stood up, went to thread her arm around his waist, “your daughter had a lovely time this afternoon. She stayed out until dark doing I don’t know what. I had to threaten to go to the kitchen for my spoon twice before she’d come inside. Then it took her half an hour to wash all the dirt off herself.”

Laughing, Jarrod bent his head to touch his Mother’s, glad that Jenny had a happy afternoon.
“Where do the fireflies come in?”

“Well, after dinner, she begged so hard to go outside to catch fireflies I couldn’t refuse. She caught some in a jar and saved them for you to make wishes.” Victoria gave him a hug, another kiss good night. “Have I thanked you lately for giving me such a wonderful little granddaughter?”

“I do believe you mentioned it once or twice.” Starting up the stairs, he said, “I just wish she were wonderful more often.”

Jarrod took the jar of fireflies, opened Jenny’s bedroom window and set them free. His wishes were too nebulous to send off with fireflies. Before he left the room, he made sure to tuck Jenny’s covers tighter. Marveling, as always, at the beauty of Jenny as she slept. Imagining her, as he’d seen her often, dancing around the yard in her nightgown, catching fireflies. Her face glowing with joy. He leaned over to kiss her. Smiling as he left the bedroom.

As he started to close the door, a cloud passed over his happiness. A sudden, inexplicable sense of foreboding darkened his thoughts. An urgency to keep Jenny safe.

Looking at Jenny, safely asleep in her bed, Jarrod shrugged it off. “I’m just tired. Jenny is safe.”

Jenny was safe.

Chapter 15

“Cursed!” Nick groused to Heath as he threw a saddle on Coco’s back, “This whole round up’s been cursed from the start. Not being able to use Charger,” Nick turned to point a finger at Heath, stating the obvious, “who you know is one of our best horses on a round up! Then having to spend all day Saturday searching high and low for Billy when that niece of ours knew exactly where he was the whole time! And let me tell you...” Nick finished tightening the saddle, jerking out his anger at Jenny on the straps, “Pappy is just too lenient with that girl. If she were mine she wouldn’t have been sitting for awhile.”

“Now, Nick, you know we all agreed that not buying that filly for Jenny was punishment enough for riding Charger. “ Heath spoke quietly, in a vain effort to calm Nick down. He sure hated to see Nick ride off all riled like this. “And then Jarrod...”

“That’s another thing!” Nick jumped over Heath’s words, “The way you been moping’ around wondering if we did right by Jenny. It’s makin’ you sloppy. Look at those beeves you let slip by yesterday when we had them right in our hip pocket! I learned this plain fact when Father was still alive, Heath. You can’t have your mind on a woman when you’re on round up. No matter what age they are. Get your mind on a woman on round up, you got trouble. You start getting sloppy, making mistakes...”

Heath hid a smile, appearing to take in every word Nick said as fact. “You’re right,” he agreed.

“And now this!” Nick held out the current cause of his ire, the telegram he’d been given by Jack,
riding in shortly before lunch on Mother’s orders. As if he hadn’t read and raged over the wording five times already, Nick started again. “Imperative I speak with you at once. Matter of grave importance. Jacob Ingram. San Francisco Security Bank.”

“Cursed! It’s cursed! Now you know it’s gonna take me more than three hours to ride back to the ranch. Then I got to ride on into Stockton and send a telegram and find out what’s going on. And where is Jarrod I’d like to know? What’s stopping him from answering this?”

“You’re the one who usually handles...” Heath started to say but Nick cut him off again.

Nick threw himself up and into the saddle. “A whole day wasted! Gallivanting off to Stockton when there’s work to be done. And you know I’m probably not getting back out here til morning.”

“We’ll be okay, Nick. Maybe I’ll keep Jack out here awhile.”

Nick grunted. As if fifteen year old Jack could take his place! Cursed. Wasting daylight.
“Probably the matter of grave importance is him telling’ me the gold arrived safely.”

Heath let the thought play though his mind, debating over speaking it out. He reckoned Nick couldn’t get anymore hot if he did. “Nick, when you picked Jenny up off the road that night?
When she told you about the bank robbers...you don’t think...”

“No I do not think the bank was robbed!” Nick spoke emphatically, flicking the reins to turn Coco in the direction of the ranch. “You forget, Heath.” He chuckled a little, simmering down as he faced the inevitable. “I was nine years old once too....and a lot like that niece of ours. I told some real whoppers too.”



“Aunt Audra,” Jenny asked after being picked up from school that afternoon, “where did Daddy have to go?”

Having to ride into school that morning with Aunt Audra, Jenny worried about not seeing Daddy at all last night or this morning. She’d saved him some fireflies to make wishes on and they were gone when she woke up. Grandma said Daddy had business, he’d be back soon. Still, it bothered her all day that he hadn’t left a shirt or woken her to say goodbye. Jenny’s blue eyes studied her Aunt’s face puckered with a frown. Without being told, Jenny knew that the grown ups were keeping something from her. A secret. Jenny hated secrets.

Audra, having been briefed by Jarrod for the inevitability of that question, answered as she’d been told. “He had business. He’ll be back soon.”

“What kind of business? Will he be gone long?”

“Probably not.”

“He didn’t tell me he had business,” Jenny said, peeved more than a little. He sure don’t tell me everything, Jenny thought. But I wish I knew if he was okay today. Cause maybe if he’s still a little crazy, he might let me outside again today.

Pulling up to the barn, Aunt Audra had just started to jump out of the buggy when Grandma came rushing out of the house, carrying a valise.

“Audra! It’s Mrs. Bisbain’s time, Albert came by about ten minutes ago to tell me. You’ll have to drive me over there and then take the other children to Muriel’s sister.” Grandma said breathlessly, tossing her valise into the floor of the buggy. “Jenny, Silas is in the kitchen making apple jelly. You’re to stay out of his way, do your chores and be a good girl.” Grandma ordered all in a rush, helping Jenny out of the buggy as Aunt Audra settled back down in the seat.

“What’s Mrs. Bisbain’s time?” Jenny wanted to know. “How come her time’s different than anybody else? And how come you have to go?”

Grandma climbed into the buggy, handing Jenny’s books out to her. “It’s time for the stork to visit her.”

“Is the stork bringing a baby?” Dirty darn but this sounded interesting. “Can I come too?”

“Heaven’s no!” Grandma stated, shaking her head no, “Audra will have enough of a time getting Muriel’s five over to their aunt’s. We certainly don’t need one more adding to the confusion.”

“But, Grandma,” Just to make certain they couldn’t turn out of the yard, Jenny jumped up on the side of the buggy, hanging on with both hands, “I never saw the stork bring a baby. Please, let me come. I’ll be good.”

“Absolutely not! Go on in the house and stay out of trouble.”

“Please. I don’t want to stay here all alone.” All alone in that big, empty house with just Silas for company. Dirty darn if that wasn’t the scariest idea she’d heard in a long time.

“Jenny, get down off this buggy at once!”

Jenny let her eyes fill with tears, “Please, Grandma, let me come. I won’t cause any trouble.”

Harried, worried over Muriel who always had a difficult time and second guessing her decision to send Albert on to find Dr. Merar, Victoria spoke brusquely to Jenny. “Do as I say!” Regretting the clipped words as soon as Jenny got off the buggy, blinking away hurt tears. Before Victoria could frame a less curt response, Jenny ran toward the house without looking back.

“Mother, maybe she wouldn’t be in the way if she went with the other children.”

“She’ll be alright,” Victoria answered, “Jarrod will be home soon, I hope. Let’s just get to Muriel. Once you take the children to her sister’s, you can come home. If Jenny just wouldn’t get her feelings hurt so easily....” Victoria sighed. Caught between a maternal desire to comfort her granddaughter and the need to rush to a neighbor in distress. Jenny would have to wait. A decision Victoria would spend weeks regretting...



Jenny wandered back into the kitchen, even though Silas had ordered her twice to stay out. Apple jelly smelled nice, filling the house with something besides shadows and echoing sounds. It sure was lonely around here with just her and Silas in the big house.

Sure would be nice to have someone here. Someone loud....like Uncle Nick. You never felt the hollow spaces in the rooms when Uncle Nick was home. He talked loud, walked loud, spurs jangling and he was big in a way that filled every inch of a room with his presence. Yes, Jenny thought, it sure would be comforting to have Uncle Nick here yelling for Grandma. Might even be nice to have that Uncle Heath here...although Jenny wouldn’t speak to HIM. But he’d be a body who could scare away all the ghosts. Uncle Heath might be quiet but he filled a room too without anyone noticing. Like a fire when it was cold outside.

“Mr. Silas, couldn’t I just sit in here and watch?”

Silas, holding up a hazardous pan of scalding hot jelly, scolded her out of the room. “Now, Miss Jenny, I want you out of here now. You don’t want me telling’ Mr. Jarrod you wouldn’t mind now, do you?”

“I don’t care,” Jenny grumbled, but only after she’d left the kitchen. Silas had permission to use Grandma’s spoon. Even though he never had, Jenny figured it might be best not to take chances. Grown ups were contrary. Expect them to act a certain way, like that mean old Uncle Heath, then they’d go changing on you.

Jenny let a few lonely tears drip down her cheeks. “Big old dumb, stupid, lonely old house.” Jenny wandered up the stairs, dusting the railing with the hem of her dress as she went along. It was one of her chores after all. Chores. Dirty darn. Who wanted to be a good girl and do chores? Jenny pouted , scuffing her toes along the oriental rugs in the hall.

I’ll go in Daddy’s room and lay on his bed. And I don’t care if I’m not suppose to go in anyone else’s bedroom without permission. I don’t care.

With a little trepidation, Jenny turned the knob to go inside Daddy’s room. Letting all the scents of cigars and bay rum and Daddy smells wash over her in a comforting wave. His bed looked all rumpled with the blankets strewn all over, a pillow on the floor... Boy howdy, Grandma sure didn’t look in here this morning. He’d thrown his clothes all over too. Jenny picked up a shirt, holding it to her face while she breathed in the aroma. After a minute, missing Daddy grew into a lump of homesick tears that stuck in her throat. She was just about to throw herself on his bed and cry when she heard the front door opening downstairs.

Daddy?

“Mother!”

No, not Daddy. Jenny’s heart sank to her toes. Then bounced up as Uncle Nick shouted once again, “Mother! Audra! Jarrod! Silas! Is anybody here?”

Uncle Nick wasn’t Daddy but he sure was close. Jenny threw down Daddy’s shirt, ran along the upper hall and down the stairs in time to collide with Uncle Nick on his shouting rampage as he came out of the study. “Jenny! Where is everybody?”

Big, loud, Uncle Nick...boy, howdy the house didn’t feel empty now. Jenny grabbed his hand, “Uncle Nick, Uncle Nick, guess what?”

“What? Where’s Mother?”

“She went to watch the stork come to Mrs. Bisbain’s house.”

Uncle Nick paced around the foyer, almost running into long suffering Silas who’d finally been able to set the apple jelly off the stove in time to come answer Mr. Nick’s shouts. “What are you doin’ back from the round up, Mr. Nick? Are you sick?”

“No, no, Silas,” Nick brushed him off, “Just taking care of some business in Stockton. I am starved though. Think you can rustle me up something?”

Silas could and did. Jenny, holding tight to his hand, ran hippety hop beside him as Uncle Nick stomped into the kitchen. Roaring out one question after another that kept Silas and Jenny answering in between bites of his roast beef sandwich.

“Where’s Pappy?”

“Aunt Audra and Grandma said he hadta go away on business.”

Uncle Nick gulped his milk, “Business? What kind of business?”

Jenny told him she didn’t know, looking up in time to see Silas motioning toward her with a finger to his lips. Like he could tell Uncle Nick something about Daddy’s business that Jenny shouldn’t hear. Jenny pursed her lips. Dirty darn, secret telling grown ups.

“Audra go with Mother?”

“Yes, Uncle Nick. Don’t you think they should have let me go too? I never saw a stork bring a baby, did you?”

He laughed. “Can’t say I have, Jenny.”

“I don’t think the stork brings the baby anyway,” Jenny decided, “I think Dr. Merar carries it in his black bag.”

“Jenny, I’d never thought of that,” Uncle Nick chuckled again. Swallowing the last of his milk, he pushed back his chair. “Guess I’d best head on in to Stockton. I need to send a wire before it gets any later.”

Jenny’s heart sank again. Sure would be quiet again after Uncle Nick left. Everything he did was so loud, scraping back his chair, gulping his milk, lifting the lid on the pot of apple jelly and sneaking a taste while Silas smiled indulgently. Ha, catch her doing that!

“Are you coming home soon?”

“It won’t take long,” he promised. Looking finally at the disappointment in Jenny’s eyes, Nick realized why she looked so downcast. Jenny was lonely and didn’t want him to leave. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Alright,” Jenny answered in a small voice, staring down at her boots.

Nick’s heart tore a little, feeling sorry for Jenny, forgetting his earlier ranting about her behavior. Squatting down so he could look into her teary eyes, he lifted her chin so she had to look him in the face. “Hey, how about you come with me? It might be nice to have the company.”

“Really, Uncle Nick?” Her tears changed to a sunny smile. “Do you think Daddy will mind? I’m not ‘spose to leave the house.”

“He better not!” Nick shouted in pretend anger, “Or I’ll punch him in the nose.”

Jenny giggled, delighted at the idea of that. Nick turned around so she could jump on his back for a piggyback ride out to the barn where Coco stood waiting. Might be nice to have his niece to himself for awhile. Babies coming in Dr. Merar’s black bag! He’d have to share that gem with Heath. Jenny sure kept them laughing.

“Your steed awaits, My Lady,” he jested as he lifted Jenny onto Coco’s back. “Stockton, here we come.”

In just a few short hours, Nick would look back at that moment with frightening clarity. Taking Jenny into Stockton had been the first mistake.

Chapter 16

Nick tied Coco up in front of the telegraph office in Stockton. After he’d lifted Jenny down, he handed her a coin. “Here, go buy yourself some candy.”

Jenny made sure she had the coin in her hand before asking, “It’s pretty near time for dinner, Uncle Nick. Can I eat candy now? Grandma always says it will spoil my dinner.”

“Do you care?”

“Not particularly,” Jenny answered.

“Neither do I.”

Jenny ran up to him, grabbed him in a hug around his waist and looked up into his eyes with adoration. Boy howdy, as Heath would say, it sure did make him feel higher than the North Ridge to know one female in Stockton adored him. “I love you, Uncle Nick.” He couldn’t let that pass without lifting her up and giving her a bear hug of his own as well as a few kisses.

Voice husky, he said, “I love you, too. Come back here after you get your candy.”

Happily, Jenny agreed. Nick set her down, watched her walk down the boardwalk toward the General Store. Hiding a grin when Jenny gave a cute, pretty curtsy to an elderly lady then stuck out her tongue when the lady turned her back. He waited outside the telegraph office until the swish of her yellow dress vanished into the door of the store.



“What do you mean that’s what it says?” Nick roared to the cowering telegraph officer, Sam Simpson. He’d just received an answer back from his telegraph to Mr. Winters at the San Francisco Security Bank. “Are you sure you heard it right?”

“Mr. Barkley,” Sam said timidly, “I don’t write them, I just transcribe them. That is exactly what it said.”

Nick stared at the yellow slip with the impossible words. “Where is your gold? Bags filled with gravel. Please advise.”

“Send it again!” Nick demanded, pounding his fist down so hard the telegraph key jumped. “Ask him if that’s what he said.”

Sam sighed, wishing he’d never heeded Mr. Horace Greeley’s advice to “go west young man.” Not if the West included men like Nick Barkley.

As Sam tapped out a repeat of Nick’s message, asking Mr. Winters to explain the matter of “grave importance,” Jenny came into the telegraph office with a red and white striped bag of candy. By the bulges in both cheeks and the sticky mess around her mouth, she’d already eaten enough to make herself sick. Nick stilled any qualms about having Mother or Jarrod find out. What good was being a kid if you couldn’t make yourself sick on candy once in awhile? Or spoiling your dinner? Nick figured it hadn’t hurt him any.

“Want a wemon wop,” Jenny asked around a mouthful. Nick took one out of the bag she offered, motioning her to sit down on the wooden bench against the wall. Smiling a little as she settled down, spreading her yellow skirt over her knees just like Audra would. Another couple of years, he thought a little sadly, and they’d be running off the boys who’d be surrounding that little dark haired beauty.

“Mr. Barkley,” Sam broke his reverie. “It says exactly what it did the last time. I quote. Where is your gold? Bags full of gravel? Please advise.”

“Now, what the devil!” Nick yelled again, pacing a little before slamming his fist down again. Sam jumped, wiping nervous sweat from his forehead. “What coulda happened to that gold?”

Jenny watched, keeping quiet. Sucking on a lemon drop, she wished she dare tell Uncle Nick exactly what happened to his gold. The spider man and his friends took it. And wait till she told Billy that the bags the robbers took inside were filled with gravel. That was pretty smart. I never would have thought of that. Jenny believed in admiring genius where she found it.

“I assure you, Mr. Barkley,” Sam drew himself up with a little dignity, “I have no idea what happened to your gold. I am just the telegraph operator.”

Nick’s dark eyes sought out and glared at Jenny. Jenny, who’d told a fantastic whooper about a bank being robbed. “No, Mr. Simpson, I’m sure you don’t.” He made sure Jenny’s eyes met his as he said slowly, “But someone else does.”

Holding out his hand for Jenny, Nick saw the sudden biting of her lip, the hesitation as she took his hand. When he lifted her back onto Coco, Jenny looked down at him but didn’t speak. Peculiar that his nosy little niece had overheard the exchange inside and didn’t ask questions. Very peculiar indeed.

Nick mounted Coco, took the reins Jenny held up for him and turned the horse down the road to Willoughby. A quick intake of breath from Jenny told him she recognized the road. “Aren’t we going home, Uncle Nick?”

“No.”

“Where are we going?”

“Well, now, Jenny, I thought we might ride over to Willoughby.”

“Are you going to buy horses tonight?”

Nick caught the nervous tremble in her voice. “No. I thought we just might pay a visit to Mr. Ferguson at the bank. You heard what the telegram said...the gold from the mine near Willoughby is missing. Since the gold was at Mr. Ferguson’s bank, I’m going to ask him a few questions.”

“Uncle Nick,” Jenny looked down at her uncle’s brown, calloused hands holding the reins in her lap. She sure hoped she didn’t make him mad. “I don’t think that’s such a good plan.”

“I happen to think it’s an excellent plan,” Uncle Nick laughed. “I’ve known Mr. Ferguson for years, Jenny. He didn’t rob the bank like you told, Pappy. In fact, he showed me the gold the same day you and Billy were running around Willoughby hiding from imaginary bank robbers. “

“But, Uncle Nick, the telegram said your gold was gone.” Jenny reminded him.

“Then it happened after it left the Willoughby Bank.”

“But, Uncle Nick....” Dirty darn, did no one in this family believe a thing she said?

“Eat your candy, Jenny.”

Jenny’s stomach turned queasily. If there was one thing she didn’t want, it was more candy. What she did want was for Uncle Nick to turn Coco around so they could ride back to the ranch. She had a bad feeling about this...somehow, it sounded like one of Billy’s plans.

The sun, shimmering in a cloudless sky, dipped toward the horizon when they rode into Willoughby.

“The bank’s probably closed,” Nick said, “let’s see if we can’t find Mr. Ferguson at home.”

Jenny keep quiet, too tired to say anything. Wondering, as her stomach churned, if Grandma could be right about eating too much candy before dinner. Just the thought of eating anything made her gag. Or maybe it was the dread of finding Mr. Ferguson at home.

Mr. Ferguson lived in a small, clapboard house to the right of the main street. Although his yard was nothing more than dirt, one scraggly cactus and a dying geranium in a cracked pot, it was surrounded by a neat, white picket fence. Nick dismounted, glad of the chance to stretch his long legs, tied Coco to a post of the fence and looked back at Jenny. She looked a little peaked. Nick handed her the canteen from around the saddle horn. “Here, take a drink.”

Jenny took the canteen, the water helping some to settle her stomach. Doing nothing to quell her fear.

“You stay here, I’m just going to talk to Mr. Ferguson. I’ll be right back.”

I hope so, Jenny thought. Frightened of Uncle Nick telling the nervous banker he knew the gold had been stolen. What would happen if Mr. Ferguson tried to fight Uncle Nick or maybe even shoot him? Jenny wasn’t sure where to find the Sheriff in Willoughby. Or even if he’d believe her if Uncle Nick got in trouble. This was not a good plan at all.

“Uncle Nick, please don’t go in there!” Jenny called to him as he walked up on the banker’s front porch. “He helped rob the bank!”

“Be quiet,” he hissed, pounding on the front door, demanding it be opened with his fist or else.

Don’t be home. Don’t be home. Jenny hoped in her head. Closing her eyes and crossing her fingers to make the wish come true. Please, please, don’t be home.

Oh, Dirty darn! He was.

“Mr. Barkley,” the banker looked different without his suit jacket, but Jenny recognized the jittery hand, wiping off his forehead with a silk hanky. “What brings you here? I’m afraid now is not a good time. I’m expecting...”

Uncle Nick didn’t take no for an answer. Ever. “I want a word with you, Mr. Ferguson...” With no regard for the banker’s protest, Uncle Nick pushed his way on into the house shutting the door firmly behind him.

Jenny’s heart beat as if she’d been racing Billy across Sky Meadow or running up the stairs at home. What was happening inside? Biting her lip, Jenny slid off Coco’s back, too fidgety to sit still. Coco, feeling her distress or smelling the bag of candy in her pocket, nudged at Jenny’s shoulder. “Easy, boy, easy,” she crooned. When Coco kept nudging at her, she pulled the bag of candy out of her pocket, laid a lemon drop on her palm and held it to the horse’s eager lips. “You like that, huh? Think you’ll spoil your dinner?” Jenny fed the horse another, patting his nose while he crunched the candy between his teeth.

Sure do wish I knew what they were saying inside...

Looking toward the main street, Jenny’s eyes widened. No, no, no..it couldn’t be! Sauntering along the street, a tall, thin man wearing a black hat with a silver band got close enough for her to recognize. No! Until it began to thump again in a crazed rhythm, Jenny truly thought her heart had stopped. He’s coming here! The spider man!

Jenny pushed open the picket gate, ran up the stairs tripping on the top step and biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. She barley noticed the sting, so intent on shoving open the front door, finding Uncle Nick.

“Uncle Nick!”

Arguing with a frightened, sweating Mr. Ferguson, Uncle Nick turned. Seeing the blood on her lip, he came toward her grabbed her up, running his thumb along the split, pulling a clean hanky out of his pocket to press against the wound. “What happened?”

“Uncle Nick,” Jenny pushed away from his chest, struggling until he had to stand her down. “We gotta leave! Right now!”
“Not until I get some answers!” Nick turned to threaten the banker, “The gold left here on Saturday....then almost week later it’s missing. What happened to it between here and there? Or did something happen to it here? You sure were awful insistent that I open those bags here...”

“Uncle Nick, Please!” Jenny risked his wrath by tugging hard on his pant leg, trying to jerk him out the door. “We have to leave...he’s coming!”

“Who? Who’s coming?”

Mr. Ferguson hurried to peer out the windows, pushing aside a lace curtain. Seeing the spider man, he went pale. Mouth gaping open like a dying fish, he backed away from the window his legs buckling as he found a chair. “Oh, no, oh, no...” Burying his face in his hands, he began to moan, “I told you to leave, Mr. Barkley. Now it’s too late.”

“Too late for what?” Uncle Nick shouted. Confused by Mr. Ferguson’s reaction, Jenny’s insistence.

“The spider man! He’s coming!”

Even as Jenny screamed it at him, why wouldn’t he listen, footsteps clomped up the wooden porch steps. Uncle Nick started toward the door, still swinging open from Jenny’s entrance but he wasn’t quite quick enough for the spider man who strode into the room, gun drawn.

“Well, now, ain’t this a pretty scene? The high and mighty Nick Barkley payin’ the banker a visit. Guess you got notice you was missing some gold, MISTER Barkley.”

Nick growled, “What are you doing here, McGraw? Haven’t you caused enough trouble?”

Motioning for Nick to drop his gun, the spider man shut the door behind him. As Nick’s gun hit the floor, he was ordered to kick it over toward the man. Holding tight to Nick’s pant leg, Jenny cried silent tears hiding her face. I told him and I told him. Why didn’t he listen? Why?

The spider man picked up Nick’s gun, holding his own steadily on Nick. “Well, now MISTER Barkley, I’d say it was you and your family that caused the trouble.”

“If you still hold it against me and Heath for your brother’s death, you’re wrong! You know he never came to work a day sober. He’d been told before he was endangering not only his life but the lives of every man in that mine. Your brother knew better than to mix liquor and dynamite..”

“Shut up!” The spider man’s anger spilled out as he screamed curse after curse. Nick held one arm around Jenny, thinking desperately of a way to get her out of this mess. He knew McGraw, what he was capable of doing. McGraw was explosive and unstable as nitro. Somehow he had to get Jenny out of here, away from what might happen.

“You Barkleys think you’re always right! Well, that didn’t help Bill’s widow or her four kids now did it?”

“Jarrod offered Anita a settlement,” Nick protested, “even though we weren’t responsible for your fool brother blowing himself to kingdom come...”

“She didn’t have no money when she went back East!”

Nick slashed a hand through the air, annoyed as always when talking with McGraw, “That’s because she wouldn’t take it! She knew Bill was at fault. The money’s still there in the bank for her if she wants it...”

“Shut up! You just shut up! Lies, all lies. You Barkley’s are good at lies!” He started to rant and rave, pacing up and down the room. Shouting first at Mr. Ferguson for bungling the robbery, then at Nick for what he perceived as the “crimes” of the Barkley family. As he turned to shout at the banker, Nick pulled Jenny away from his leg, whispered, “Run!” and gave her a shove as he stepped to block McGraw from following.

Terrified, Jenny made an attempt to run toward the door. McGraw’s shouts, a thud as he hit Uncle Nick , her own sobbing filled Jenny’s ears as she fled down the stairs. If she could get to Coco, climb on, get away, get help for Uncle Nick...

“Well, what have we here?” A man asked as he stopped her short. Grabbing her shoulders firmly, he held on tight.

“Let me go!” Jenny screamed, fighting as he picked her up, clamped a strong hand over her mouth to shush her up. Let me go! Let me go! She kept screaming, the sound muffled by the man’s hand, smelling a little like red wine. Battling for her freedom as he walked up to the porch and into the house.

“McGraw,” the man scolded harshly, “what’s goin’ on here? You were suppose to help the Banker out of town. Well, if it ain’t Nick Barkley in the flesh.”

Jenny continued to kick and pull at the man’s arms, wanting down. Once inside the house, she recognized her captor as the man who’d shot the Dude.

“Might have figured you’d be in on it too, Masters. What I never figured is that you’d be dumb enough to follow anything McGraw said.”

“Shut up, Barkley!” The spider man shouted again. “I oughta shoot you right now.”

“No!” Mr. Ferguson jumped up, spurned into action. “There will be no more shooting! You promised me no one would be injured.”

The spider man turned sarcastic eyes on the banker, “Well, now what do you think we should do with them? You’re so anxious to skip town an’ me and Masters gotta get back to all that nice Barkley gold. What say we just let old Nick here go..let him ride right back to that family of his and tell them who took that gold. You might wanna spend your life in jail but I sure don’t!”

Mr. Ferguson blanched again. Jail. No he did not want to go to jail. Nick could see the fear in his eyes, the swaying of his emotions as Mr. Ferguson fought between right and wrong. “I....I don’t want to go to jail...but killing...the little girl...”

“Let her go, Masters!” Nick raged, ready to tear the man’s arms off if he didn’t let Jenny down soon. One part of him rooting Jenny on as she kicked and wiggled and sure made it hard for him to hold onto her. For one brief second, he smiled inside, remembering Jenny doing the same thing in Pappy’s arms. Thinking of Jarrod, he sobered instantly. Jarrod trusted him completely with his child when he was gone...nothing was going to happen to Jenny as long as he had a single breath left in his body. “Let her go!”

Acting more on animal instinct than sense, Nick threw himself at McGraw. Startled, McGraw let the gun drop out of his hand. Nick landed a couple of good punches, although McGraw, with years of rage giving him strength, fought back just as hard managing to hit Nick in the pit of his stomach. As Nick doubled over, he watched McGraw pick up his gun and advance, holding the gun butt toward his head with a wicked gleam in his eyes. Nick felt the exploding pain on the back of his head, saw blinding flashes of light and then nothing...

He drifted between a tunnel of black nothing to bits of dreams or reality. He couldn’t grasp what might be real or illusion. A jolting wagon. Voices. Someone weeping in his face, tears bringing him back to consciousness as they dripped onto his cheeks and down his neck. His mind fought to grab a thought that kept floating away...something important he needed to do, to remember, to take care of...almost it got near enough to grab then drifted away...

A long time later, the jolting stopped. His body hit the ground hard. Rolled over and over and fell down, down, down to land somewhere dusty, damp...with pain screaming from so many parts of his body he couldn’t pinpoint what might hurt the worst.

Far above, he heard someone screaming. No, he heard Jenny screaming.

Jenny. Should have left Jenny at the ranch.

His last conscious thought was that if they hurt Jenny he might as well go ahead and die. If he didn’t, Jarrod would kill him anyway.

Chapter 17

Riding Jingo, Jarrod passed through the welcoming gates of the ranch with sense of relief.

After sitting in the saddle for most of the day, all he wanted was to stand on his feet awhile and hopefully get a few straight answers from his daughter. He’d left shortly before sunrise, followed the Dude’s trail for most of the morning, coming upon the peddler’s wagon shortly before noon hidden in a grove of orange trees.

“Evening, Mr. Jarrod,” Ciego welcomed him home, reaching to take Jingo’s reins.

“Thank you, Ciego, it’s a good evening now that I’m home.” Jarrod dismounted gratefully, stretching his stiff legs and trying to work the knots out of his back. Yes, he was getting too old for this kind of search. Might be his days of riding a posse were over. He was glad now that he hadn’t tried to ride round up with Nick and Heath. It took a certain stamina to spend the day in a saddle. Jarrod tipped hi s hat to his brothers for being able to do just that.

Stiffly, Jarrod walked into the house, shedding his gun belt and hat as quickly as possible. House seemed quiet tonight. Empty. Except for the enticing aroma of apple jelly and roast beef, it might have been devoid of all human activity. “Mother! Jenny!” He laughed when his voice echoed back as loudly as Nick’s. Waiting for Mother to appear from somewhere scolding good naturedly.

Only Silas came out of the hall from the dining room, smiling and welcoming, “Mr. Jarrod. I didn’t know you’d be home now. Miz Barkley wasn’t sure just when you’d arrive.”

“I didn’t know myself, Silas.”

“You’ll be hungry,” Silas stated the obvious. Where were one of Miz Barkley’s boys not hungry when they walked in the door?

Jarrod grinned, rubbing his hands together, “Silas, I am famished! Lead the way to some of that roast beef and I’ll go to bed happy.”

Silas laughed, “You just go right on into the dining room and I’ll...”

“How about I just follow you out to the kitchen,” Jarrod suggested instead, “so I’ll be closer to the food.”

Agreeable, as always, Silas led the way. “Where’s the family?” Jarrod asked once he was seated at the oak table with a roast beef sandwich as only Silas could make them in front of him. Unlike Audra who believed in tiny slivers of beef, Silas piled the meat on in slabs, in between layers of lettuce and seasonings. A sandwich good enough, almost, to erase the disheartening search for the Dude.

“Well, Mr. Jarrod,” Silas went back to washing up the utensils he’d used to make the apple jelly, “Miz Barkley and Miss Audra went to help Miz Bisbain. Her time had come.”

“Is Jenny around somewhere?”
“No, suh, Miss Jenny, she went off to Stockton with Mr. Nick.”

“Nick! What’s he doing off the round up? “

Silas pulled out a clean dishcloth to dry the clean spoons as he answered, “Miss Audra brought a telegram for Mr. Nick this morning when she took Miss Jenny in to school. Your Mother thought it best to send one of the hands out to give it to Mr. Nick right off.”

Jarrod frowned. This didn’t sound good. “Do you know what the telegram said?”

“I didn’t read it myself, suh, but Miz Barkley did say that it was from that Mr. Winters at the San Francisco Bank.”

“Hm,” Jarrod took a last bite of his sandwich, washing it down with the freshly brewed coffee Silas had kept him supplied with since he walked into the kitchen. After a day of eating trail dust, the coffee alone was worth coming home to. “It must have been important for Mother to think of calling Nick off round up. So Nick got home and went into Stockton?”

“Yes, he said he had to send a telegram off to that Mr. Winters to see what the man wanted. He asked Miss Jenny to ride along.”

“Have they been gone long?’

Silas looked at the clock over the stove, a little surprised to see the time, “Why, I guess they have been gone a few hours now.”

For just a second, Jarrod felt the odd feeling his Mother use to tell him was “someone walking over your grave.” He shook it off but still felt uneasy. The telegraph office would have closed over two hours ago. “I wonder why they aren’t home yet?”

“Oh, you know, Mr. Nick,” Silas laughed because he did know Mr. Nick well, “might be he took Miss Jenny out to eat at the Cattleman’s Hotel or the Stockton House.”

“True. Although more than likely he’s off playing poker somewhere and Jenny’s asleep on a settee in the hotel or one of Fred’s jail cells.”

“Who’s in a jail cell?” Audra asked, coming up behind Jarrod. She leaned over to plant a quick kiss on his cheek before getting herself a plate from the cabinet and helping herself to the makings for a roast beef sandwich.

“Jenny.”

She stopped shaving off slivers of beef to ask, “Why would Jenny be in a jail cell?”

“She’s with Nick,” Jarrod answered succinctly. As if that explained everything, which it did. If Jenny and Nick were together, they could be anywhere.
“Oh, Silas,” she turned, “did Nick get home?”

Again, Silas had to explain that Mr. Nick had gotten home, all riled over the telegram and gone off to send a telegram of his own to Mr. Winters. He explained that Jenny had gone along. Jarrod filled her in on his suppositions about Jenny’s whereabouts, then asked about her afternoon. “Well, was it a boy or girl? And where is Mother?”

“Mother’s staying the night with the Bisbain’s. It was both...a boy and a girl,” Audra told him proudly, sitting down beside him. “Twins. Albert finally brought Dr. Merar after they’d both arrived. Mother gave him a good scolding too.” Having both been on the receiving end of many of those, Jarrod and Audra both laughed. “I was suppose to take the children over to Mrs. Bisbain’s sister’s house but Cleo threw such a fit I had to practically drag him to the buggy. Every few miles, he’d jump off and head back home. I finally had to have Frank sit on top of him to keep him in the buggy. Then when I got to Clara’s house, he decided he didn’t want me to leave and clung to my leg crying. Clara begged me to wait until he feel asleep before I left.”

“Well, little sister, it sounds like you had an exciting afternoon.”

“More coffee, Mr. Jarrod?”

Jarrod held out his cup to be filled. Cradling the warmth in his hands. Might be a good night for a fire, the air had turned cooler with an autumnal nip in the air. Sure was a night to be beside a warning fire.

“Jarrod, Mother said that you were going in search of the man Jenny called the Dude. Did you find him?”

Sighing, Jarrod leaned back in his chair, tilting it up on two legs. Silas frowned disapproval. Miz Barkley sure didn’t like that done to her chairs. Jarrod arched his eyebrow, flaunting his minor rebellion of the kitchen rules. Silas never seemed to have notice the ‘boys” were now men. Audra giggled as Silas went mumbling out to set the dining room table for breakfast the next morning.

“So, Jarrod, did you find Jenny’s Dude?”

Jarrod sobered, setting the chair back down on the floor, “Yes, I found him.”

“Did you talk to him? Did he tell you anything?”

Jarrod nodded.

“Jarrod! If you don’t tell me, I’ll scream.”

“Now, don’t do that,” Jarrod smiled, reaching up to stroke her golden hair, “there’s really not much to tell. He finally admitted, after a great deal of persuasive reasoning on my part, that he’d been in Willoughby the day Jenny and Billy had. He also admitted that he’d been shot in an “accident.”“

“Did he know who shot him? Were they the men Jenny said they were?”

“Her spider man and the farmers? He didn’t know.” Getting up, Jarrod went to place his empty cup on the dry sink. Crossing his arms over his chest, he went over the disappointing results of his search. “All he could remember is that he interrupted what he thought was a father getting too rough with his son. Billy, of course. He said he could remember seeing a gun, grabbing for it and then the sound as it went off. After that, nothing. When he came to, he was being cared for by a farm woman somewhere outside Willoughby. She told him that he’d been hurt in an accident, the men responsible were very sorry but they had important business and couldn’t stay around. They’d made arrangements for his welfare until he healed, left a sizable sum of money as compensation for any distress they might have caused and left.”

“So he didn’t know if the bank had been robbed?” Audra watched closely as Jarrod shook his head no. Knowing by the confused frown on his face that he was still no closer to learning the truth about Jenny’s story. “Jarrod, what about the telegram Nick got? Maybe the bank was robbed and Mr. Winters wrote to tell him.”

“I suppose if it did,” Jarrod answered, “as soon as Nick gets home he’ll shout it from the front door.”

“I suppose,” Audra agreed grinning, “unless he starts yelling as he comes in the gate.”



Nick came slowly back to consciousness. Aware, at first, of a sharp, radiating pain that began somewhere on the back of his head and pulsed to his forehead. He’d had headaches before but this won the grand prize. Fumbling, trying not to move too quickly, he raised his left hand with the intention of touching the source of the pain on his head. He realized, through a daze that something must be wrong with his left hand. Panicking for just a second because the end of his arm felt numb. My hand is gone! Where’s my hand!

He lifted the arm again, touching his face with the misshapen, swollen blob that must be his hand. Any movement of that hand sent a surge of nausea from the pit of his stomach to his throat. Hurt my hand. My leg...did something to my leg.

Nick grasped at understanding, hampered by the headache, the pulsing pain from his hand and...he sought the source of other pain, other discomfort...hurting in so many places he had difficulty pinpointing any one. Even his teeth ached from being clenched so hard. His eyes blurred as he stared up...making an effort to clear his head and remember the events that led up to his lying here in the dark. Far overhead, how far he couldn’t judge, Nick saw the sky. A night sky with a spattering of stars. A damp, musty smell tickled his nose. Underground. I’m underground. Where?

Cold. Cool air. It cleared his head, although the pain pulsed and throbbed and broke as regular as waves washing up on a sandy beach. Awareness, came slowly around the pain. He fought for a deep breath, found it impossible with a crushing weight on his chest. Must be hurt worse than I realized, Nick thought, Can’t breath. Maybe damaged my lungs....

Nick lay there struggling for breath, unable to move more than an inch or two from that heavy weight. A weight that he began to know was another person. A body lying on top of his own with a face pressed close to his. A face with a mouth. A mouth with a thumb stuck in it, drooling down his cheek. Jenny. Jenny. Alive, breathing...relieved to have her with him but fearful too. Was she hurt? Clumsily, he tried to feel the features of her face with that useless hand. His right arm, he came to know when he attempted to move it, lay pinned under Jenny’s legs. As near as he could determine, Jenny wasn’t hurt. Her breathing sounded normal, her heart beating against his chest steady and the rhythmic slurpy sound her thumb made ordinary.

“How the devil are we getting out of this one, Jenny?” He asked, staring up at the stars. It sure looked like a long way back up to the ground. A long way...

Chapter 18

Waking with a start, Jarrod sat up in a parlor chair. He winced at the crick in his neck from leaning on his hand most of the night. Morning. Soft rose fingers of early dawn slid through the curtains, dappling the furniture in shades or orange and pink. The fire he’d built last night while waiting up for Nick and Jenny had fallen into ash.

Jenny? Where was Jenny?

Had he fallen so soundly asleep he hadn’t heard Nick and Jenny return? How late had it been? Nick must have come in, carried Jenny up to bed. He had? Hadn’t he? Pushing away a persistent sensation of unease, Jarrod got up quickly. He took the stairs two at a time, hoping with each step to convince himself he’d find Jenny safely curled in bed.

Opening Jenny’s bedroom door, the neatly made bed dashed his fragile hopes. As if his mind had gone numb, doubting the reality of that empty room, Jarrod walked in dazed. Where is Jenny? Why isn’t she here? Without thinking, he reached to pick up two dresses off the floor, a rose sprigged calico and a green plaid Jenny must have tried and discarded as she dressed for school the morning before. A brief smile crossed his lips thinking of Jenny’s vanity. Like Audra, she could go through her entire wardrobe before choosing a dress for the day. Carefully, Jarrod folded the dresses over the back of a chair with a strange sense of detachment. What was Jenny wearing when she left this house last night? I don’t even know.

Nick could and did stay out all night on occasion, but the places he frequented then were nowhere he would have taken Jenny. If they were just going to Stockton, there would have been no reason Jarrod could imagine that Nick wouldn’t have just brought Jenny home. Or made arrangements for a neighbor to bring her.

Where are you Jenny? Where are you? The small pang of fear he’d tried to ignore grew into chest tightening panic. Once before in his life, he’d asked the same question. Where are you Jenny?

Something was wrong. The foreboding he’d experienced last night, letting Jenny’s fireflies out the window, returned stronger than before. Jenny should be home safely in bed. She wasn’t.

Jarrod left the bedroom running, planning. He’d wake Audra and let her know he’d be riding into Stockton as soon as he could saddle Jingo.

Nick, Nick, wherever you are, you’d better keep her safe.



“Uncle Nick! Uncle Nick, are you dead? Please wake up and tell me you aren’t dead! Please!”

Nick woke, stiff, sore and disoriented with a small hand insistently shaking his shoulder. Jenny’s face pressed close to his, her warm breath smelling suspiciously of lemon drops, brushing his cheek. When he tried to open his eyes, a bright sun glared down causing him to squint. They must have survived the night.

“Uncle Nick?”

“Um....” He moaned, trying to moisten the inside of his bone dry mouth enough to speak. “I’m...not....dead.”

“Oh, Uncle Nick,” Jenny cried, throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing hard, “I was so scared.”

Nick struggled to sit up, hampered by being able to use only one hand and Jenny’s stranglehold around his neck. “Jenny, let loose. I can’t breath.”

Jenny dropped her arms. Sitting back on her heels, she reached out to help as he pushed himself up into an awkward sitting position. His left side felt like one mass of pain. Nick felt the sweat of exertion break out across his forehead from just the simple act of moving his left leg. This was not good. Breath ragged, Nick studied their prison. It looked to be a long abandoned mine shaft. Straight up, straight down except for a small space that veered off to the left. Once it had been the entrance to a mine but a cave in had sealed it closed. No way out there. No way out going up either. Not unless he could grow another ten feet overnight.

“Are you hurt, Jenny?”

“No.”

“Not at all? How’d you get down here?”

Jenny’s blue eyes narrowed in anger remembering the indignities she’s experienced, “They tied a rope around me and dropped me down! In the dark! And I yelled and kicked an’ screamed
all the way down but that mean old spider man just laughed....”

“A rope?” Nick interrupted. A rope might come in handy. If he could figure out a way to use it. “Where is it?”

“They made me untie it so they could pull it back up.”

“Why the devil did you do that?” Nick shouted. “We could have used that!”

Jenny’s eyes filled with hurt tears. “Cause they said they’d shoot you if I didn’t...”

“Aw....” Nick regretted his belligerence. Of course, Jenny would worry about him. Sweet little kid. “I’m sorry.”

“....and I sure didn’t wanna sit down here with any dead body!”

Yeah, sweet little kid. Although how they could have used a rope he didn’t know.

Nick grimaced, adjusting his left leg to a more comfortable position. Dislocated. Excruciating pain gave him all the diagnosis he needed. He’d done it before slipping over a ravine while attempting to rope a calf. That time Heath had snapped it back into place. Without Heath, he’d have to do it himself. Somehow. As soon as possible before it started to heal wrong. He dreaded having to do it. Especially in front of Jenny.

He looked at Jenny, face smudged with dirt and tear tracks, waiting for him to come up with a plan. “Well, Jenny, we’re in a fine fix now aren’t we?”

“This sure was a dumb plan, Uncle Nick. Even Billy never had a plan this dumb.”

Nick grunted. The kid sure had a lot of Pappy in her. Never missed a chance to let him know he was wrong. “Jenny, this is not what I planned to do when we rode to Willoughby.”

“Oh,” Jenny regarded him quizzically, “I wondered why you let the spider man hit you in the back of your head. It sure seemed like a dumb plan to me.”

“Jenny, you’ve told me the plan was dumb three times,” he snapped, an edge of impatience tingeing his voice. “I never planned for McGraw to hit me or drop us down here. All I planned to do was find out what happened to the gold!”

Raising her dark eyebrows superciliously, in an exact imitation of Jarrod, Jenny remarked coolly, “I tried to tell you what happened to your old gold. Nobody listened to me. I told everybody the bank got robbed. An’ I told you not to go in that house either. You don’t listen very good, Uncle Nick.”

“Jenny?”

“Yes, Uncle Nick.”

“Be quiet!”

Jenny, bottom lip curling, stood up and turned her back on him. Crossing her arms in front of her chest, she sat down stubbornly.

“Aw, Jenny, don’t be that way.”

“When my Daddy gets here,” Jenny spoke to the wall, “I’m gonna make sure he knows who’s fault this is!” Looking over her shoulder, she glared, “Cause I sure ain’t taking the blame for this dumb plan!”

Jarrod.

Nick sighed. Hoping against hope that by now Jarrod knew they were missing. For all he knew, Jarrod was still off somewhere, Mother and Audra at the Bisbain’s and no one the wiser. All because old pigheaded Nick Barkley hadn’t had the foresight to tell anyone where he planned to go. No, he’d just stomped ahead as usual, walking right into danger and dragging Jenny along with him.

Eventually, Jarrod would go back to the ranch. Silas would be able to tell him they’d gone to send a telegram in Stockton. Nick knew Jarrod well enough to know he’d start his search there. When he read the telegram about the gold, Jarrod should put two and two together and end up in Willoughby. After that...well...Nick drew a blank. Masters and McGraw had already hightailed it out of the state by now. Mr. Ferguson? He might be an ace up the sleeve or a snake in the grass. What would Jarrod find in Willoughby that would lead him here. Wherever here was...

Yeah, Nick, he berated himself, Jenny’s right. This sure was a dumb plan.

Chapter 19

It was going to be hard, but he’d have to do it.

Nick let Jenny pout awhile as he studied the possibilities available for yanking his leg back into place. Even sitting still the pain didn’t ebb or stop. From past experience, Nick knew he needed relief soon. He needed a clear head to get them out of here. Not one clouded with pain.
How he planned to fix that, he didn’t know yet.

Jenny was too small to wrench it back into place. He needed a way to brace his booted foot...

“Jenny! Come here a minute.”

“What for?”

“Just come here,” Nick ground out the words between clenched teeth. A tone Jenny didn’t ignore. Not that he was much of a threat with one good hand and the inability to do more than scoot from one side of the shaft to another. “Don’t glower at me like that! I just need you to do something. See that wood brace there?”

Pointing to an X made of two wooden beams, Nick instructed Jenny to pull on it. Hard. “How strong is it? Does it have any give?”

Jenny gave him a dubious look but obeyed. “It feels strong.”

“Tight? You see any dirt or dust fall when you pull on it? Pull on it hard and see.”

“Why?”

“Just do it!” Nick fumed, thrashing around with impatience. Wishing he could do the job himself.

Jenny braced her body, pulled with all her might until she toppled over backward and sat down on the dirt floor. The X still held. Pleased, Nick began to scoot closer. Measuring off the distance between where he’d have to brace his foot to how far back he’d fall once he yanked. Enough room. When he lost consciousness, if he did, he wouldn’t hit his head. Now came the hard part...preparing Jenny.

“Jenny, I need you to be brave...” he began.

“No.”

Jarrod all over again. Stubborn like her father. “Listen to me, Jenny. I’ve got to snap this leg back into place...” Step by step he explained what he needed to do and why. Jenny stared at him her blue eyes transfixed with horror. Shaking her head no, she answered in a strained voice, “No, please don’t do that, Uncle Nick.”

“Jenny, if I don’t there’s no hope of us getting out of here.” Maybe not even then, but he couldn’t tell Jenny that. She was inches from panic already.

“I don’t want you to,” she began to cry as her voice rose shrilly, “I don’t want to be brave.”

Nick’s face twisted in pain. “Jenny, I gotta do this. If I black out, you need to listen in case anyone comes. Then you yell as loud as you can so they’ll know we’re down here. You hear me?”

“I don’t want to! I won’t!”

Sweat broke out on his brow as he forced his body closer to the beams. He couldn’t waste anymore time arguing with Jenny. The pain was unbearable. Nausea swelled in waves from his stomach to his throat as he scooted close enough to the beams. Lifting his leg caused his face to contort in agony.

Jenny cried harder, pleading with him not to do it. Nick knew he could spare her no comfort. Not right then. He placed the tip of his boot behind the beams, leaned back on his elbows, took a deep breath and jerked.



As Nick had predicted, Jarrod’s first stop that morning was at the Stockton Telegraph Office.

Sam Simpson agreeably handed over the telegram that Nick had bellowed over the night before.

Reading it, Jarrod’s dark eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Where is your gold? Bags filled with gravel. Please advise.”

Bags filled with gravel? Jarrod held the yellow slip, his face ashen. Jenny, Jenny, why didn’t I listen to you? Jenny with her story about the bank robbers taking in two bags and bringing out one. A story so unbelievable he hadn’t believed. A cold fist closed over his heart. What’s happened to you, Jenny, because I didn’t listen?

“Of course,” Sam was saying, “your brother didn’t wait around for the next wire to come in...just went rushing off. It came in after he’d gone.”

“What wire? What did it say?” Jarrod grabbed at the information, reaching with an eager hand to snatch the slip of paper from Sam’s hand.

“Nicolas Barkley. Stockton, California. Train carrying gold made ten scheduled stops. Pinkerton men investigating possible robbery. Jacob Winters.”

Pinkerton men, Jarrod thought bitterly. I don’t need any detectives to tell me the bank was robbed. My daughter’s been doing that for days. People always said Nick Barkley was the bullheaded one in the family. They must not know me well, Jarrod thought, I must have more than a taint of the Barkley stubbornness too.

“Did you overhear Nick say where he might be going when he left here?”

“No, Mr. Barkley,” Sam’s face grimaced, “your brother, Nick, was so overbearing I was just glad to get him out the door. I didn’t stand around to listen to anything else he might say.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Jarrod raked his hat back over his hair, “I think I know where he went anyway.”

Willoughby. Nick would head straight for where he’d last seen the gold. He’d go barreling ahead, without a thought in his head but confronting Mr. Ferguson. It would never occur to him that he or Jenny might be in danger. Nick hadn’t believed Jenny’s story either.

Were they in danger? Standing in front of the telegraph office, staring with unseeing eyes at the parade of Stockton coming to life for the morning, Jarrod tried to make a decision. Riding into Stockton, he’d hoped that somehow he’d made a mistake. That there was a reasonable excuse for Nick keeping Jenny out all night. He’d thought he might even ride into them, coming home with hangdog looks. Nick apologetic for....for what?

The telegram erased any hopes for a commonplace excuse. As hard as it was to believe, Jenny and Billy had witnessed a bank robbery. Mr. Ferguson was somehow involved. Nick had gone to confront him and then....what? Jarrod fought down his imaginings knowing what his next step needed to be...

“Morning, Jarrod.”

“Good morning, Dr. Merar,” Jarrod greeted him, mounting Jingo. Anxious to be on his way.

“Where are you off to so early this morning?”

“Willoughby.”



“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please, God, please let someone come. I’m sorry I was a naughty girl.”

Jenny sniffed back tears, trying hard to stop crying. Her eyes were red and raw from crying while Uncle Nick stayed asleep. Every time she thought the tears had stopped, she remembered how scary it was when Uncle Nick yelled and that awful cracking sound when he pulled his leg. Then he went to sleep just like he said he might. Jenny fought hard to be brave. Her ears hurt from listening so hard for someone to come so she could shout like Uncle Nick told her. But it was lonely and she only had six lemon drops left in her pocket.

Dirty darn. Why don’t you come Daddy? I want to go home.

“Uncle Nick? Please wake up.” This time when she begged, with her face pressed close to his ear, he moaned. “Uncle Nick?”

His body shifted so Jenny sat up, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. If he’d just wake up all the way it wouldn’t be so awful down here.

“Jenny,” clumsily, Nick lifted his good hand to brush his dark hair out of his eyes. His first thought as he struggled to sit up that his leg didn’t hurt as much as before. Thank God for that. He could ignore the dull, throbbing ache in his hand, all the scrapes and bruises as long as that stabbing pain in his leg was gone. “You okay, Jenny?”

“Can we go home now, Uncle Nick?”

“Did you hear anyone?”

Jenny shook her head, eyes downcast. “Nobody came,” she answered him glumly sitting back on her heels. A few leftover tears dripped down her dirty cheeks. Jenny lifted the hem of her once pink dress and rubbed them away leaving more dirt on her face.

“Maybe someone will come later,” Nick tried to cheer her up, holding out his good arm so she’d come into a hug. Jenny scooted next to him, snuggling up against his side with her arms around his waist. “You know they must be searching for us by now.”

I hope. Nick didn’t tell Jenny any of his fears. That no one had missed them yet. That even if Jarrod and Heath knew they were missing, they’d have no idea where to look. Nick’s worst fear was that Masters and McGraw would come back. If they stood overhead and shot straight down, chances are they wouldn’t miss. He could push Jenny back into the space where the cave in began, put his body in front of hers and hope they wouldn’t kill her. But if they came back with a rope and a gun and the intention of leaving no witnesses, there would be nothing he could do to protect Jenny.

“Uncle Nick,” Jenny whispered, “are we down here because I was naughty?”

Jarred out of his unpleasant thoughts, Nick answered impatiently, “What kind of fool question is that?”

“Sister Patience told us when bad things happen to us, it’s because of our sins. So I kinda thought maybe we got down here because I was so naughty last week.”

Nick grunted a laugh. If Sister Patience were right, it wasn’t Jenny’s sins at fault. “No, Jenny, I don’t think we’re down here because of any sins you committed.”

Jenny sighed as if she didn’t believe him.

“What did you do that was so bad anyway?”

“Promise you won’t tell? Not anybody? Not Daddy or specially not Grandma?”

Taking up his swollen left hand, Nick fumbled to cross his heart in a promise.

“Well,” Jenny studied his face, judging how well he’d keep the promise before she decided he could be trusted. “I never meant to do it, truly I didn’t. It was Grandma’s shawl, the one with the roses and the black fringe...you promise you won’t tell?”

“Promised, didn’t I?” Nick barked. Mellowing his voice when Jenny pressed her lips tight together. “I swear.”

Jenny didn’t look quite convinced of his sincerity. Sighing a little, she went on with her story, "I don’t know why I did it...but I saw Grandma’s shawl and the fringe and I got this idea that if I cut some of the fringe off I could make hair for the clothespin doll I was making.”

“Oh, Jenny,” Nick groaned, knowing what she’d have done next, “you didn’t?”

“Yeah,” she admitted sadly, "I cut some off an’ Grandma just hadta walk in the room right then.”

“She does that.”

“I know.” Jenny sighed again. “She scolded me for awhile, cause it was her special shawl, the one Daddy and Mama bought her in Italy. But then she looked at it and said it didn’t hardly show so she wouldn’t punish me if I didn’t do it again. I promised an’ I really meant to not do it again...”

“But you did.”

“Yeah. She never saw me that time but she knew it was me.” Jenny raised her chin so defiantly Nick had a hard struggle not to bust out laughing, “I said how’d she know it was me, maybe some orphans or gypsies or something came in and did it. Then she got madder and madder...” Lips quivering a little in the retelling, Jenny paused a second to control her emotions, “and she told me to go to the kitchen and get her spoon.”

Having been on the receiving end of that spoon himself, Nick could sympathize. Somehow it always hurt worse when you were ordered to go fetch it yourself. “That’s too bad.”

“Oh, but, Uncle Nick...that’s when I was the most naughty. I went into the kitchen and I found her spoon but...” Jenny’s chest heaved as she started to cry, “I just didn’t want to get spanked so I lifted up the stove lid and threw her spoon in on the fire Silas had made to cook stew.”

Nick laughed, he couldn’t help it. Realizing after Jenny’s eyes widened in surprise that she’d expected a typically adult reaction such as, “You shouldn’t have done that!”

“It really wasn’t funny, Uncle Nick,” Jenny corrected, haughtily pulling herself away from him, "because I had to go tell Grandma I couldn’t find her spoon. She wasn’t too happy either.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just....I wish I’d thought of it when I was your age. So what happened?”

“Oh, she looked and looked and looked but she couldn’t find it.” Jenny giggled when Nick laughed at the picture that put in his mind, “and she finally said she was sorry, she misjudged me because she thought I’d was lying about not being able to find it. Then she just made me stay in my room for awhile. I thought she might tell Daddy but she didn’t.”

Nick couldn’t help laughing, wishing he hadn’t promised not to tell. Jarrod and Mother might not enjoy the story but Heath sure would have gotten a kick out of the tale. “You’re a lot like me, Jenny. You know that?”

“I know.” She agreed readily, having been told that since she was old enough to remember. “So, Uncle Nick, do you think Sister Patience is right? That cause I was naughty we’re down here?”

“No, I don’t think that. This is all my fault.”

Wisely, Jenny decided, “Then it’s cause of your sins, huh, Uncle Nick?”

“Probably so.” Still thinking about Jenny and the spoon, Nick began to laugh at the memory of a similar event in his own life.

“What’re you laughing about?”

Nick blushed, almost ashamed to tell Jenny. Shifting uncomfortably, he tried to ignore her inquisitive gaze. “Oh, it’s just something that happened when I was a kid. Not a very interesting story.”

“Tell me.” Jenny demanded. “Please. You can have one of my lemon drops.”

Jenny pulled the crumpled bag out of her pocket. Handing him a lemon drop, she snuggled closer with a pleading look in her eyes. “Please, tell me.”

“Oh, well, guess it can’t hurt any,” Nick munched on the lemon drop, stroking Jenny’s very dusty hair. “Once, when I was a little younger than you, I hid my Father’s strap.”

Jenny laughed, covering her hand with her mouth.

“Hey, now, if you’re gonna laugh...”

“You laughed at me too.”

Nick grinned. “Guess you’re right. Well, it was when me and Pappy were little boys. We lived in a smaller house but it had the best barn. Me an’ Jarrod we loved to play in that barn. One day we made up this game...” Nick thought a minute about how much Jenny already imitated him and decided to interject a warning, “...it’s not a game you want to try either, you hear me? Cause it was dangerous.”

“Then how come you did it, Uncle Nick? And Daddy. I don’t think Daddy would play a dangerous game.”

“Yeah, Pappy was just a little kid then and the game was kinda his idea. See, we had this real high beam over the haymow and our Father had a rope hanging from it with a hook to pull up bales of hay. One day, me and Jarrod just kinda looked at that rope and figured what a nifty swing it’d make if we sailed out over into the barn and dropped down on the bales of hay still on the floor.”

“That sounds like fun,” Jenny looked up at him with a wistful face. “Did your Father catch you?”

“Oh, yeah, he sure did. He was mad enough to spit nails too.”

“But you hid his strap.”

Shaking his head no, Nick went on with the story, “No, not then. He made us both do some extra chores to keep us out of mischief but he told us we better not ever do it again or else.”

“So you did?”

“Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“It always seems like a good idea until your Father yells,” Jenny agreed mournfully.

“Yeah,” Nick nodded, “or your Mother.”

“Yeah.”

“Anyway, one day I decided just to swing a little while. Jarrod wouldn’t do it, he told me I’d get in trouble, that Father would find out when he got home...”

Jenny crinkled her nose at that. That sure sounded like the Daddy she knew alright.

“Well, there I was swinging away and I heard Father’s horse ride up. I jumped down an’ skedaddled out of the barn so he didn’t see me. But, he knew someone had been swinging cause whenever we did, we ended up breaking open the bales of hay. So he came in the house hollering for me and Jarrod.”

“Is that when you hid the strap?”

“Right when I first came in the house. Figured Jarrod would tell on me and I’d get it for sure.”

“Did Daddy tell?” Dirty darn, it sure was hard to find out you had a tattletale for a Daddy. Getting poor Uncle Nick into trouble.

Nick shook his head, his voice going husky all of a sudden. “No, he didn’t. What happened was that Father found out about the strap. He had thought we were both guilty but when he discovered the strap was missing, he kinda thought it was me. So he figured he’d trick me into admitting it. He told Jarrod and me he knew one of us had been in the barn, whoever it was could be a man and admit, or he’d strap both of us. I think he thought Jarrod would tell him it was me or that I’d fess up to keep Jarrod out of trouble.”

“Did you?”

“No.”

Jenny studied the tender expression on Uncle Nick’s face. “I told Jarrod what I’d done...”

“Then he went and told on you?”

“No, “ smiling he looked down at her, “he took the strap to Father and told him he’d been out swinging in the barn. He said he’d hidden the strap too.”

“He did! Boy howdy, that was dumb! Did your Father get mad?”

“I think Father knew I was the real culprit. Can still remember how he said, ‘I never expected this of you, Jarrod.’”

Jenny didn’t think this sounded fair at all. “But, Uncle Nick, didn’t you go tell your Father it was you, so Daddy wouldn’t get punished?”

“No,” Nick turned his face to hide the sheepish grin. “I stuck my fingers in my ears so I wouldn’t have to listen.”

Indignation colored Jenny’s face. Stammering with rage, she said, “That’s the worst thing I ever heard! You should’ve taken your own spanking instead of letting, Daddy. Poor Daddy.”

“You’re right. I should have.”

“Why would Daddy lie for you anyway? You were the naughty one, not him.”

Nick’s eyes misted just a little. “Why? Because he knew I was little and scared and that’s the kind of big brother he was...is. It made me feel worse when Father sent him to bed because he cried and cried.”

Jenny could feel her own eyes moistening up, thinking about Daddy being little and hurt.

“I finally crawled in bed with him, put my arm over his shoulders and told him I was sorry. Then your Pappy...” Uncle Nick’s voice changed from tender to taut. “He told me I had to give him my new pocket knife. My Grandma’d just sent it for my birthday. It had four blades too...I sure hated to lose that pocket knife. And then he told me he...”

“Earned it?” Jenny questioned.

Eyes wide with astonishment, Nick asked, “How’d you know that?”

“He still has it in his desk at the office. I asked him why he had a knife with N. B. on it and he said he earned it.”

“Why that....”

“You gonna say an interesting word, Uncle Nick?”

“Not right now.” If he ever got out of here, he’d make sure Jarrod gave him back that pocket knife.

“Uncle Nick,” Jenny stated after a few minutes of silence while Nick fumed , “I think Sister Patience was right. Only I think it’s your sins that caused us to be down here.”

Arriving in Willoughby, Jarrod found to his consternation that the Willoughby Bank was closed. Not to be deterred, he rode Jingo down the main street of town to where Mr. Ferguson lived. That house too was locked tight. Jarrod pounded on the door.

“Mr. Ferguson! It’s Jarrod Barkley! I need to speak to you.”

No answer.

Jarrod walked slowly down the front porch steps, looking back at the house in case anyone should come to the door. Strange that on a weekday the bank would be closed, Mr. Ferguson not at home. Strange, unless he’d absconded with the stolen gold.

Where to now? Jarrod had no way of knowing where else Nick might have gone. Were Nick, Jenny and the banker somewhere together? Not knowing was agony. Where is Jenny? He looked back at the house, untying Jingo from the picket fence. Had they been here? At the bank? He’d just decided to go find the Sheriff when a glint of gold caught his eye.

Retying Jingo to the fence, Jarrod hurried up the brick path to the shining something he saw in the dirt. As he reached down to pick it up, he felt as if he’d stepped over a cliff and dropped 100 feet. His stomach clenched in fear.

Jenny. Lying in his hand he stared in horror at the tiny gold locket. J.V.B. Jenny had been here.
When? How? What happened to cause her to drop her locket?

Before he could quite comprehend the importance of finding Jenny’s locket, Jarrod heard a voice calling from the gate. “You, Mr. Jarrod Barkley?”

A cheerful, overall clad boy stood there with a yellow telegraph slip in his hand. “This came to the office for you, sir.”

Who? Who would know he was here? Jarrod took the slip, handed the boy a coin from his pocket and a murmured “thanks.”

“Return Stockton at once. Ferguson here. Dying. Dr. Thomas Merar.”

Continued…