The Hooky Playing Fiasco

Chapters 20-28

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 20

Victoria sat stiffly on a wooden bench in Dr. Merar’s office. Staring blankly ahead, she unconsciously kept twisting Jenny’s felt bolero hat around and around in her fingers. Audra sat beside her, an arm around her Mother’s shoulders, speaking quiet words of comfort. “They’ll be alright, Mother.”

“Drink this, Victoria,” Dr. Merar handed her a tin cup of brandy. When Victoria didn’t reach out for it, he picked up her hand, placed the cup between her fingers and helped her lift it to her lips.

“Howard,” she protested weakly, coughing a little as the liquid burned her throat. “I don’t need...”

“Let me be the physician here, Victoria. Now you stop blaming yourself for what’s happened to Jenny.”

Waving her hand in objection, she repeated the condemnation she’d been thinking to herself. “I should never have left her alone in the house. If I’d just let her come with us, she wouldn’t have been there when Nick left.”

“Mother, Jarrod won’t blame you. You mustn’t blame yourself.”

“I should never have left her alone,” Victoria repeated vehemently. Dr. Merar patted her shoulder, wishing he could offer more assurances. After speaking to the man with the gun shot wound in his office, there was no hope he could give. Nick and Jenny’s whereabouts were still unknown.

The door to the office crashed open as Jarrod rushed inside. He stopped, taking in the scene before him with tortured eyes. “Jenny?” He asked his face etched with desperation. Having ridden from Willoughby haunted by agonizing thoughts, he almost expected to find the worst.
Nothing had prepared him to find Mother and Audra, their faces drawn with fear. His blue eyes missed nothing, including Jenny’s well worn hat in his Mother’s hands or the trembling of Audra’s lips, the unshed tears in her blue eyes.

“We don’t know,” Victoria answered, rising to go to her son. Folding her arms around his neck, she held tight to Jenny’s hat in one hand. “I found Coco this morning, tied to the corral. Jenny’s hat...” Her voice broke. Only with effort did she regain control and finish. “Her hat was on the saddle horn. I thought at first, Nick was home. Until Audra told me...”

“When we found Coco,” Audra went on as Victoria pressed her face against the front of Jarrod’s shirt, unable to speak. “Mother and I decided to ride on into Stockton to see Fred. We thought we might run into you too. On our way in, we found Mr. Ferguson by the side of the road. He’d been shot.”

“Is he?”

Dr. Merar shook his head. “No, Jarrod, he’s still alive. Barely. Audra rode on into town and got me while your Mother stayed with him on the road. Fred and I got him on a wagon and brought him on in. He insisted on speaking with you. I was just hoping you’d still be somewhere in Willoughby when I sent the wire. Once your Mother and Audra saw the wires Nick had sent and received, they were sure you’d go to the bank or Mr. Ferguson’s home.”

“I did.” Jarrod gave Victoria a strong hug, gently pulled her away and reached into the pocket of his vest for Jenny’s locket. “I found this at the house.”

Victoria’s hand went to her mouth. “Jenny’s? Did you see any sign of her? Nick?”

“No, Mother.”

“Jarrod, come talk to Mr. Ferguson.” Dr. Merar motioned him to follow into the office. “He doesn’t have long. I think the man is only hanging on long enough to make his peace with you Barkley’s before he dies.” Grim faced, Jarrod walked toward the closed door. As he put his hand on the knob, Dr. Merar stopped him with a warning hand on his arm. “Jarrod, he doesn’t know where Nick and Jenny are. He’s dying. Let him make his peace.”

“My daughter...” Jarrod ground out, his face hardening.

“He can’t tell you.”

Shaking off the doctor’s hand, Jarrod stalked into the room. Mr. Ferguson, laying on a bed, turned his head slowly at the entrance. One feeble hand rose in greeting, enough so that Jarrod could see blood stained bandages covering the man’s portly chest. His usual heavy jowled cheeks were sunken, ashen. “Mr. Barkley,” he said in a voice barely above a labored whisper.

Jarrod pulled up a straight backed chair, sitting beside the bed unwilling to let his anger at the man fade.

“I know....” A spate of hacking coughs interrupted Mr. Ferguson’s words. Dr. Merar came forward with a glass of water, holding it gently to the man’s lips while he drank. Most of the water dribbled from the side of his mouth but enough went in to ease the coughing spell. “I know you’re very angry. Can’t blame you. Never meant for this to happen.”

“What did you think might happen, Mr. Ferguson?” Jarrod was aware that he didn’t know enough to ask reasonable questions of the man. All he had to go on were Jenny’s somewhat convoluted stories. The only solid fact he knew was that the gold was gone. The gold, Jenny and Nick.

“Never meant to have anyone get hurt.” A short, bitter laugh. “Never meant to get shot myself. My wife, you know my wife has been ill for years? She’s in a hospital in Philadelphia. Expensive. If it were your wife, wouldn’t you do anything to make her well again?”

“I wouldn’t rob a bank.”

Mr. Ferguson’s fishy eyes stared at the roses on the wallpaper, as if seeing a course of action no one else could understand. “You think not? Given the right set of circumstances, Mr. Barkley, you might very well change your mind. When McGraw and Masters approached me...”

“Doug McGraw? Bill Masters?” Jarrod shot up from the chair, eyes wide. “They were the ones who helped rob the bank?”

“Yes. To get revenge on you Barkleys...for the trouble at the mine. I was to get a share.”

Doug McGraw and Bill Masters? Nostrils flaring, Jarrod clenched his hands into fists so tight his palms bled from the nail bites. Jenny. His precious baby in the hands of those two. With grim determination, he closed his thoughts to the unspeakable fears he imagined. McGraw had always promised to avenge his brother’s death. Jarrod refused to believe that his only child had paid the price McGraw demanded.

“The regular men from the mine brought the gold in early that morning, before the bank opened. Later, McGraw, Masters and another man pretended to bring the shipment in...”

Jenny telling him, “every time they carried in two bags, they brought out one.” I didn’t listen. Why didn’t I listen? Who brings in a gold shipment and carries out anything? She told me and what did I do? I threatened to spank her if she didn’t stop telling lies.

“Made sure...” Mr. Ferguson’s voice faded. His eyes fluttered opened and closed and opened with great effort. “Sure Nick saw gold in the bank so he’d think....robbed on train. Plan...”

“My daughter? My brother?” Jarrod asked roughly, earning an angry head shake of warning from Dr. Merar. “Where are they?”

“Don’t...don’t know. Nick...nick came to the house yesterday. Told him to leave. McGraw coming to make sure I got on train, left town. The little girl. Little girl came from nowhere...”

“What happened?” Jarrod demanded. Resisting the urge to shake the man until his teeth rattled out the answers. “Where did they go?”

Mr. Ferguson’s eyes closed. Breathing as if even breath might be his last, he struggled to get the words out, “McGraw, Masters, took them away.”

“Were they alive?”

“Yes.”

“Where, where did they take them?”

“Don’t...know. Took them away. Forgot about me. This morning.....started for Stockton to tell...” Another fit of coughing stopped the man as Jarrod waited, his stomach clenching. “Tell you. Masters shot...me. Must have followed. I’m sorry.”

One last shuddering breath passed Mr. Ferguson’s lips, his double chins dropped to his chest as his face rolled sideways into the pillow. Jarrod didn’t need Dr. Merar’s pulling the sheet over the man’s face to confirm his death.

Jenny. Jenny. Where are you, Jenny?

“Jarrod,” Dr. Merar offered comfort, “they could still be alive.”

“Then I’d better find them.”

Chapter 21

“Uncle Nick, how much longer do we have to stay down here?” Jenny asked in a tired little voice.

“I don’t know.”

Nick didn’t dare share his fear that no one even knew they were missing yet. In the long hours of that first day, between trying to keep Jenny from panic, he worried. Had anyone at the ranch missed them yet? If Mrs. Bisbain’s baby took its own sweet time coming, Mother and Audra could still be occupied there none the wiser. Jarrod? Silas hinted that he knew what business Jarrod had gone on. Nick hadn’t gotten the chance to ask him what the business was or when Jarrod would return. Heath wouldn’t expect him back out on the range until sometime today. If he didn’t show up, it might never occur to Heath that there were any problems.

And even if they all knew by now, where would they search? If Jarrod or Heath had somehow traced their steps to Willoughby, to Mr. Ferguson’s house, what would give them a clue about where they’d gone from there? Nick had no idea where he and Jenny might be trapped. Abandoned mine shafts dotted the countryside like weeds. Which mine? Where? In what direction? And Coco? Where was Coco? Would his whereabouts lead to them? So many questions without answers. Nick always liked a question to have a solid answer.

“I’m tired of drawing in the dirt,” Jenny complained fretfully, tossing away the rock she’d been using as a pencil. Driven to distraction by her questions earlier, Nick had hit on the drawing idea as a happy solution to take her mind off their predicament.

It seemed to Nick that most of that day, with the sun beating down relentlessly, he’d gone from one petulant Jenny problem to another. First she was thirsty. With no water in sight, he showed her how to pick up a rock from the ground, dust it off and put it in her mouth. A trick he’d learned during the war when they couldn’t get to water for a while. Not that it would help for long. It had only been a day, but soon they’d need water.

Jenny’s next complaint had been, “I’m cold.” The sun poured down the straight shaft but the air underground was cool. Too cool for a little girl to stand for long. He’d taken off his black leather jacket with Jenny helping to pull it over his swollen hand. Jenny put it on but it didn’t keep her warm enough. Her lips had a bluish tinge as shivers passed through her body. The kerchief around his neck made a warm scarf for her head.

“You look like a little gypsy girl,” he teased, keeping it light, although Jenny’s eyes wore a fearful uncertainty.

“Uncle Nick, when is Daddy coming?”

“Soon, honey. He’ll be here soon.”

Jenny looked up the shaft, at the purpling shadows of dusk, “It’s getting dark again. Do we have to sleep down here again?”

“If someone doesn’t come . . . ”

Lips trembling, tears began to drip down Jenny’s cheeks, “I don’t like it here. I wanna go home. I want my Daddy.”

“Hey, now,” Nick motioned her to climb on his lap, gave her a warm one-armed hug and pressed his chin down on the top of her head. “Someone will come soon.” I hope. “And hey, just think of the story you’ll have to tell Billy when we get home! This is a real adventure. We’ve been kidnapped by bank robbers, thrown in a mine shaft. Probably got half the county out searching for us. Why someone might even write a dime novel about us, Jenny. Think of that!”

“No, thank you, Uncle Nick. I don’t want to be in a dime novel. I just want my Daddy.”

Nick held her tight, at a loss to know how to comfort her. Right about then, he sure wanted Jarrod or Heath or someone to show up too. “Hey, Jenny, know what I want when we get out of here? First thing?”

Jenny shook her head. Nick whispered in her ear, “I want four of Silas’ roast beef sandwiches. And a steak that thick . . . ” He measured an enormous thickness with his thumb and finger. A small giggle bubbled through Jenny’s tears, as he’d expected it to. “Yup, bet you Silas is mixing up some of those sandwiches for me and a big meatloaf for you.”

“That would taste good.” So far, Jenny hadn’t complained of hunger. Nick hoped he hadn’t given her the idea.

“Mother, bet Mother’s been baking every one of your favorite cookies.”

“What’s Aunt Audra doing?” Jenny asked with a small show of interest, caught up in the game.

“Audra. Now Audra’s probably got all those orphans in church praying for our safe return and getting that orphanage scrubbed within an inch of its life for a big party when we come home.”

Jenny giggled again, sniffing back a few stray tears. “What’s Daddy doing?”

“Oh, now, Pappy, he’s trailed us to Mr. Ferguson’s house and he’s hot on our trail. Why he’s riding Jingo fast as that nag’ll go. And Heath now . . . ”

“I don’t care about him,” Jenny stopped the conversation rudely. Nick couldn’t see her face, but he felt Jenny stiffen with anger.

“You know, honey,” Nick admonished her as gently as possible, “if you carry a grudge around long enough it gets to be a mighty big burden. I know from personal experience. Maybe it’s time you dropped this mad you got against your Uncle Heath.”

“I hate him.”

“Hate’s a might powerful word there, Jenny. Are you sure you mean that?”

“Yes, I do! He’s mean. An’ I’m never talking to him again.” She told him adamantly, jutting out her stubborn Barkley chin.

Nick, feeling his way through the mine field of Jenny’s emotions, stepped cautiously, “What have you got against Heath? You know, he feels real lowdown because of the way you’ve been treating him lately.”

“I don’t care.” With a little more prodding on Nick’s part, she opened up enough to say, “He told you to tell Mr. Parker to sell my horse. An’ he knew how much I wanted her.”

“Why’s that Heath’s fault more than mine or Pappy’s? We all talked about it. Agreed it was just punishment for you riding Charger . . . ”

“I only rode Charger because me an’ Billy were running from the bank robbers,” Jenny explained for the tenth time in a tight voice. “And now maybe everybody believes me. Cause there really are bank robbers.”

“Yeah, I know.” Nick wasted no time on regrets for not believing Jenny sooner. What good would that do now? “But, honey, you could have been hurt or killed trying to ride a horse like Charger. We had to be hard on you to make sure you learned a lesson.”

“But it wasn’t fair,” Jenny wailed, coming finally to the heart of her war against Heath, “for Uncle Heath to be so mean. He never was before.”

“Ah . . . ” Nick began to understand. “It wasn’t the punishment you minded . . . it was the fact that it came from Heath.”

A little nod. “He wasn’t ever like that before Uncle Nick. Not like you or Daddy or Grandma or even Aunt Audra. Sometimes when everybody else in the house got mad at me, I could always go find Uncle Heath and he wouldn’t be mad. Now I can’t ‘spect him to be that way ever again. He was always my friend. Now he’s not.”

“Jenny,” Nick squeezed her close, not knowing what to say for a second or two. “I don’t think you have to worry about that. “ Nick laughed softly to himself. Heath had been so shook up over the one time he had to be harsh with Jenny. He’d probably never punish her for anything again. “No, Jenny, I think you’ll still be able to run to Heath for comfort when the rest of us get mad at you. I can almost guarantee it.”



Heath finally caught up to the search party that included Jarrod just as they were making camp for the night. He hadn’t gotten word until that afternoon and ridden hard following Jarrod’s trail.
Impossible to believe that Nick and Jenny were missing. All that day as he rode, he’d tried to still his imagination, to convince himself it was all a bad joke. He’d get back to the ranch and find Nick, fuming over some delay that prevented him from coming right back to the round up.
He hadn’t. Finding instead that the horrible reality was true. Nick and Jenny were missing.

“Jarrod?”

Jarrod, sitting beside a campfire, lifted his head to look up at Heath. With haunted eyes, he acknowledged Heath’s presence by pointing to a coffeepot on the fire. Staring at Jarrod’s tight, pinched face, Heath went back instantly to that second he’d found Jarrod after Louisa and Nicky died. The same look had been on Jarrod’s face . . . desperation.

“Any word?”

“No, Heath.” Jarrod answered while Heath poured a cup of coffee. Cradling it in his hands, he squatted down by the fire’s warmth. “It might help if we knew where we were going or where we might find them. It might also help if we knew whether they’re alive or . . . ” Jarrod’s voice broke off. He couldn’t finalize the word by speaking it.

“I passed Sheriff Madden about two hours ago. He said he’d got a posse to go North and there were more men going south and east. Told me you were with a group of men going west. “ When Jarrod didn’t speak, Heath kept on hoping to ease some of his brother’s fear, “Mother told me about the telegrams and Mr. Ferguson when I stopped by the ranch. About you finding Jenny’s locket . . . ”

As if reminded suddenly of something important, Jarrod reached into the pocket of his brown leather vest and brought out the small locket. Holding it in his palm, he let his fingers rub lovingly over the initials. “If I lose her, Heath, you’ll have to bury me next to her. I won’t be able to live.” He said it so calmly, it took Heath a startled minute to grasp the meaning behind the words.

“Don’t talk that way, Jarrod. Jenny’s with Nick. He’ll keep her safe.”

“Be a little hard for a dead man to keep anyone safe, wouldn’t it?” Jarrod stared into the fire, grieving already for Jenny. “Did Mother tell you it was McGraw and Masters who robbed the bank and took them? That Masters killed Ferguson? You know that McGraw always wanted to avenge his brother’s death. What better way than to kill two Barkleys to get justice?”

Heath had seen Jarrod in dark moods before. He’d wrestled Jarrod and Nick both out of the doldrums more times than he could count. Boy howdy, he had his work cut out for him. Firming his own stubborn Barkley chin, he scolded, “Now you listen to me, Jarrod . . . ”



“I hear thunder,” Jenny whispered just as an enormous flash of lightening lit up their prison. “I’m scared.”

Nick shifted a little trying to get comfortable on the hard ground. If it rained, they’d have some water, but he wasn’t looking forward to the damp and cold. In an effort to keep warmer, he had Jenny scoot under the ledge that went back toward the cave-in. He’d managed to get as close as he could so his body heat warmed her. Curling his body around hers, he prayed she wouldn’t get sick. What he wouldn’t give for a few matches and some twigs to build a fire.

“I want my Daddy,” Nick felt Jenny’s chest begin to heave with sobs. His nerves frayed with annoyance, he snapped more sharply than he intended, “Go to sleep!”

Thunder boomed overhead, rumbling the earth. Nick faced a new worry. How safe were they under this ledge? If the ground shifted would they have enough warning to roll out from under it? His body tensed with anxious thoughts that tortured the fits and starts of sleep he managed. Jenny whimpered and cried herself to sleep. After the rain began, Nick held his cupped hand out from under the ledge to collect whatever water he could. Sip by sip, he drank enough to quench his thirst. He woke Jenny and began to offer her sip by slow sip. Each time she drifted off to sleep, he’d have to wake her again, listen to her weak crying. His shirt was drenched to the skin, the cold penetrating. His hands went numb cupping the cold rain. He shivered so badly his teeth chattered constantly.

As the rain began to taper off, the soft pattering becoming slow drips, Nick let Jenny go back to sleep. He pulled the leather jacket closer around her, tucking her hands inside the sleeves. If he could only keep Jenny warm enough. Throughout that long, worrisome night, he fought against the cold. Nothing seemed to help. It’s icy teeth bit through his clothes, chapped his face as slivers of frozen breath slid down his throat. He couldn’t begin to keep Jenny warm enough. The cold, the damp, the icy air. As hard as Nick tried to fight it, he knew with a desperation he seldom felt, he wasn’t going to win.

Another dawn began to light the shaft, when Nick heard the first ominous sound.

Chapter 22

A cough.

Startled awake by the unexpected sound, Nick waited. Tensed. Relaxing only slightly when he realized the cough came from beside him. Jenny.

“You aren’t getting sick on me now, are you, Jenny?” Please don’t be sick.

Another raspy cough answered. Looking at her closely in the dim morning light, Nick saw that she slept despite those body shaking coughs. He felt her forehead with the back of his hand. Warm. Was it a fever? Or just the warmth of her face being pressed against his chest? What would he do, trapped down here, if she became really ill?

Nick’s brow creased with this new worry. He didn’t try to deny that having Jenny sick caused him more fear than facing a black Angus bull on a rampage. Every little sniffle or cold sent them all into a panic. Until she’d spent so much time in a hospital after Louisa’s death and been given so much laudanum, Jenny had been the picture of health. Afterward, she could never seem to regain the strength she’d once had to fight off disease. A simple cold might keep her in bed for weeks while they watched and worried and prayed. Simple colds could so easily slip into something worse.

“You stay well, Jenny,” Nick ordered gruffly, “you hear me?”



After an almost sleepless night, Heath got up near dawn to build up a small breakfast fire. Cooler this morning, he thought, tossing twigs into a circle of cleared ground. He soon had the sticks snapping, cracking and sending out bright sparks. Gratefully, he pulled his sheepskin coat around his shoulders until the fire began to send out enough warmth to make the coat uncomfortable. As he filled the coffee pot from a pail of water, setting it on the fire to boil, Heath glanced over at Jarrod.

Jarrod, his head pillowed on his saddle, had lain awake most of the night. Each time Heath woke from a fitful doze to gaze at his brother, Jarrod had been in the same position, staring up at the stars. This morning, after several days without a razor, the dark stubble on Jarrod’s face gave him a sinister appearance Heath found hard to reconcile with his usual dapper brother. Sadly, the dark shadows under Jarrod’s eyes and the anguish twisting his face were familiar to Heath. He’d seen Jarrod look that way too many times. Losing, Beth, Louisa, Nicky. If the unthinkable happened and they didn’t find Jenny alive, would Jarrod want to live?

Heath tried to offer what comfort he could to ease Jarrod’s suffering. “Jarrod, let me get you some of this coffee. You’ve gotta keep your strength up. Jenny...” Heath struggled when his own voice broke and tears moistened his eyes. He’d give anything, anything if he could take back that morning when he’d told Jenny he wasn’t buying that filly. “Jenny will need you when we find her.” If....if we find her...

After last night’s cold rain, the floor of the mine shaft oozed mud. Nick’s back was soaked although he’d managed to sop up enough rain with his body so Jenny stayed fairly dry. When she woke with that grating cough, Nick’s determination rose. He had to get her out of here. The damp, earthy smell of that mud spurred him into action. There had to be a way.

If Jenny got out, she might be able to find help. Even if they were in the middle of nowhere, if she kept walking...if she were well enough to keep walking...she’d come to a house or person sooner or later. Or someone out searching might spot her.

When she began to stir, Nick shoved his fear to the back of his mind. No sense letting her feel his anxiety. “Hey, Sleepyhead, how do you feel this morning?”

“Did Daddy come yet?” She asked in a croaking voice before complaining, “My throat hurts.”

Nick winced. That damp air hadn’t been good for her. “Honey, listen, I think I have an idea for getting you out of here.”

“Why can’t Daddy come get us out? What’s taking him so long?”

“Jenny, I don’t know when Jarrod will come.” Or if he will. “But I do know you’d be easier to see if you were walking around instead of stuck down here.”

Jenny sneezed. The sound went through Nick’s heart like a knife. Don’t get sick, Jenny.

Rolling over, the cold mud squishing into the back of his shirt and pants, Nick pointed toward the top of the shaft. He’d thought and discarded idea after idea ever since Jenny’s cough woke him. Only one had potential. “I got an idea. See those wooden braces way up at the top of the shaft?”
Jenny, eyes dull, focused where he pointed. Were her eyes dull with fever? “I been thinking...what if I stand up...” Nick dreaded the idea of trying with that left leg still throbbing, “and put you on my shoulders. If you stand up, I think you might be able to reach that bottom brace.”

He looked down at Jenny to see if she understood what he wanted her to attempt. She looked up and away, uninterested.

“Jenny, if you can reach that bottom brace, you can push yourself up by your toes and climb to the next one. Then once you get your feet on that brace, you can climb the rest easy as a ladder. Like you’re climbing up into one of our orange trees picking oranges.”

“Why can’t we just wait for Daddy to come? I’m tired.”

Nick hated to burst any frail hope Jenny had of rescue but knew he had to do it. Jenny wouldn’t last down here much longer. The air had turned cooler this morning. If another night came without rescue, Jenny would be exposed to more cold. “He might not come! If we want help, we’ll have to do it ourselves!”
At his angry tone, Jenny’s face crumpled.

“Aw, honey, I’m sorry. But Jenny, no one even knows where we are. If you could get out and tell them where I am, you’d be a real hero.”

It took a long time of persuasion on Nick’s part to talk Jenny into even attempting the climb. After he finally got her to agree, he doubted the wisdom of his decision. Even if he could stand long enough, if he could help her stand on his shoulders and she started to climb, what could he do if she fell? Was it wise to send her off alone? Was there more danger outside the shaft or inside? Nick hoped Masters and McGraw were long gone. He knew the men well enough to imagine they’d hightailed it for Mexico as soon as they could. McGraw had gotten his vengeance by dropping them down the shaft with no hope of rescue. The man had a cruel streak Nick had never liked. Somehow, he couldn’t see them coming back. Even if they did, Jenny would be safer away from the shaft. Wouldn’t she?

Crawling out into the mud, Nick helped Jenny stand. Her hands mired deep in the muck, the knees of her once white stockings became damp and dirty. Neither of which pleased Jenny.

“Grandma’s gonna be so angry,” she wept, “cause this is the third pair of stockings I ruined this week. An my dress is all dirty and torn. This is all your fault, Uncle Nick, for not listening to me! An’ I’m gonna tell Grandma too! Cause if anybody gets spanked for this it’s not being me.”

Nick didn’t waste precious time in argument. Carefully, he pushed himself to a standing position by using his good hand to brace his body against the wall of the shaft. “Jenny, there’s a couple of things I got to tell you...”

Slowly, while Jenny brushed away tears with a muddy hand that streaked her flushed cheeks, Nick explained what she should do once outside. “You need to find water first off, hear me? Test it like I showed you an’ if it’s good you drink plenty. Then you start walking. You keep walking till you find someone to help or someone finds you...”

An overwhelming spasm of fear gripped Nick’s mind. What if Masters and McGraw came back? Or Jenny ran into a mountain lion? A rattler? Would she be safe without him? Was this right? What would Jarrod do?

A brief coughing spell decided him. If staying down here meant Jenny got sicker, then she had to get out. Jarrod trusted him to keep Jenny safe when he was away. Nick knew he’d have to go on the instinct that this was the right decision.

“I sure would feel better if we had some way for you to mark a trail.” Nick let his mind drift over possibilities. Heath had shown Jenny once how to blaze a trail across the North Ridge so she and Billy could play Indian hunter. Could she do it well enough to lead a rescue party back here? Was it worth trying? If they just had something to use...

“You got a petticoat on?”
“Yes,” Jenny admitted reluctantly.

“Take it off and hand it to me.”

“No!”

Yup, Pappy was too lenient with this child. She sure didn’t obey as fast as she should. “Do it or I will! You need a way to mark a trail. Mind me, Jenny.”

Crying softly, Jenny untied her petticoat, slipped out of it and handed it to Nick. As Nick gripped the waistband in both hands and ripped, Jenny gasped in horror. “You’re tearing it!”

“Jenny,” he explained as patiently as possible, “you need a way to mark a trail so you can lead someone back here or someone can follow it to find you. You got plenty of petticoats at home. Quit crying.”

“I don’t got any like that,” Jenny cried, “My Mama made that for me. It’s the last thing she sewed that I can wear. Grandma made it bigger an’ Aunt Audra crocheted new lace to make it longer. My Mama embroidered those ducks around the bottom with her own hands an’ you’re ruining it!”

Nick felt a second of sadness, Jenny’s grief clutching at his heart. Quickly he hardened his heart to her tears. If it meant her life or a petticoat, he had no choice. At each rip, Jenny’s cried louder mourning each piece of the white cotton. It sure got on his nerves.

“Here,” Nick handed her the strips of material, “stuff all these in your pockets or down your drawers. You know how to blaze a trail. Every so many feet you tie one on a branch or bush or brace it under a rock or something.”

After he put the ripped pieces into her upheld hands, Jenny lifted them to her face weeping. Nick grabbed her shoulders and shook her roughly as his patience snapped. Sick with fear, he roared, “Stop crying! Stop it or I’ll smack you!”

Whether she believed him or was just too shocked at the sudden outburst, Jenny slowly turned off her tears. Whatever the reason, Nick accepted it gladly. If she kept crying, he’d never be able to force her to leave. It hurt too much to know she was frightened and sick and upset over her petticoat. Her tears brought out a fierce protectiveness he’d have to deny if he wanted to send her off alone.

“You ready to try?”

A sad nod. Jenny stuffed the strips of cloth into both pockets.

“Take my hand.” Nick held out his good hand. “Now, walk up my leg and climb onto my shoulders.” Nick bowed a little under her weight, sweat forming on his brow at the effort to stand upright on the uninjured leg. Once his weight slipped to the bad leg and he felt nausea rise to his throat. The sharp soles of Jenny’s boots bit mercilessly into his shoulders as she righted herself to a standing position using his head to balance her body.

“Can you reach?” He asked , clenching his teeth against the pain. His legs trembled as he struggled to keep standing upright.

“Could you stretch a little higher?”

Nick pushed his one booted foot further into the mud. Taking a deep breath, he pressed himself up against the wall, holding Jenny with his good hand. Making himself a few inches taller. One shoulder’s pain eased as Jenny lifted her foot. It came down a second later with a force that sent them both reeling and Nick frantically swaying to stay upright.

“Sorry,” Jenny mumbled, “I slipped.”

Straining, face red with the herculean effort, Nick managed not to fall or drop Jenny. He could feel the veins in his head and throat pulsing furiously as he lifted her higher. One foot lifted. Held as dirt crumbled down on his head. Another minute and the weight lifted from the other shoulder. Nick stood still, arms and legs quivering, in case she slid back down. Tilting his head to watch, he was rewarded with a cascade of dirt that strung his eyes.

“Take it slow, Jenny. Take your time,” he cautioned. Nick kept his eyes on her. Slowly, carefully, Jenny found handholds and placed her feet inch by inch on the braces. A loud crack filled the shaft as one brace broke when Jenny put her weight on it. Nick’s heart leapt into his throat. He tensed, shifting a little back and forth to be in a position to catch her if she fell. Thankfully, Jenny slid her foot away from the crack, dug her toes in the dirt wall and managed to pull herself higher.

Nick almost couldn’t believe it when she reached the lip, lay over on her stomach and scooted out of the shaft.

“You made it!” He exalted . “Do you see anyone?”

Jenny stood up, looking around. “No, just some old mining equipment and rocks.”

“Farther away, what do you see?”

“Mountains,” Jenny answered in a listless voice, pushing her dusty hair out of her eyes as the wind blew it,

Mountains? He sure didn’t want her going there. “What else? Is it anywhere you recognize?”

“No. Trees.”

“Are the trees nearby?”

“I think.”

“Then you go that way. You might find water there. “ Nick paced a one legged hop, impatient over not being able to go with her. “Jenny! Anchor down a strip of cloth near here so Pappy can find me again.”

Jenny searched around, found a sizeable rock and carried it near the entrance. Weighed down, Nick saw the strip of cloth flutter as the wind picked it up. Jenny squeezing her eyes shut against the dust that blew in them.

“Jenny,” He shouted up at her, praying he’d made the right decision, “you be careful.”

“Uncle Nick,” Jenny lay down on her stomach to peer over the edge, “I’m scared. Can’t you come up too?”

Nick shook his head. “You got to do this alone, honey.” So many warnings went through his mind. He wanted to shout them up at her but didn’t dare send her off frightened. He’d have to pray God keep her safe.

“But, I’m scared,” she whispered again.

“Jennifer Victoria Barkley,” he ordered, “you stop being a baby! You can do this! You go find some help.”

“I’ll try,” she promised hesitating. Another bout of that barking cough tore at Nick’s insides. Maybe being in the sun would help. She just couldn’t get sick.

“Jenny,” he smiled up at the anxious muddy face peering down at him, “if you see Pappy before I do, you tell him I want my pocket knife back. I’m giving it to you. You earned it.”

A small grin lifted the corners of Jenny’s grimy mouth. “I’ll tell him,” she teased as she stood up and walked away from the opening. Her voice drifted back toward him, “but he won’t give it back.”

When he couldn’t see her, Nick slid down the wall sitting on the wet ooze. He barely noticed the damp and cold. Second guessing did no good but he couldn’t help wondering. Did I make the right decision?

Chapter 23

Afternoon came with no sign of Nick or Jenny. Traveling due west but with no clear sense of destination, Heath began to fret over Jarrod’s crazed state of mind. Earlier, about mid-morning, Heath and the three other men in their search party stopped at a creek to water the horses. Jarrod refused to dismount Jingo. Or even to let the thirsty, angrily snorting horse near the water at all.
If Heath hadn’t jerked the reins out of his hands, spoken sharply while he held tight, Jarrod might have ridden on out of sight. With Jarrod looking so fierce, Heath almost felt he was taking his life in his hands by crossing his brother. Jarrod in any state of mind was a worthy opponent. In his frenzied fear for Jenny, Jarrod was as stable as nitro. If he blew, Heath didn’t want to be anywhere near him.

As the horses took on water, Jarrod paced so frantically up and down the creek, Heath couldn’t hold him back long. When Jarrod mounted, went streaking off again there wasn’t anything Heath could do but follow. Leaving the other men to catch up the best they could.

The day before, Sheriff Madden had told Heath they had a search plan of sorts. He’d tried to figure that Nick and Jenny left the Stockton telegraph office right before closing. They had Sam Simpson’s word for that. It took an hour to ride on to Willoughby. Mr. Ferguson, before he died, had told Doc Merar what time Nick had arrived but wasn’t able to pinpoint the time McGraw and Masters showed up at his door. He knew that Nick and Jenny were taken away in a wagon. Where, he couldn’t tell.

Figuring how far a wagon could travel from Willoughby. in the time from sundown to daybreak, when Masters had shown up in Stockton to shoot Ferguson, gave them an idea of where to search. Still, it was a wide swatch of country. It might take days to search it all. If Nick or Jenny were injured, they might not last that long. If Masters and McGraw had split up, McGraw could still have Nick and Jenny or taken then further away.

“It narrows the search down to four directions, north, south, east and west,” Sheriff Madden had explained, running a worried hand over the back of his neck. “They could have gone miles in any direction. If they’re alive, might be they can start yelling if we get close. If they aren’t...” The Sheriff didn’t have to spell it out for Heath. If Nick and Jenny were dead, they could be buried anywhere. Chances were good their bodies might never be found.

Jarrod, Heath knew that day as they rode endlessly on, feared the worst. He refused to eat or drink or stop. Instead, Jarrod pushed forward driven to find Jenny. Shouting into the wind every few feet, “Jenny! Answer me! Jenny!”

After Jenny had walked away from the shaft, she’d headed for the stand of pines like Uncle Nick told her. Every little while, she made sure to put a marker of cloth. The sun felt awful hot, beating down on her head, making her hair sweat under the kerchief Uncle Nick had tied on for a hat. His leather jacket warmed her too much too. Jenny shrugged it off, let it drop. A cool breeze fanned her arms and the back of her sweaty neck. That sure felt good. If only her body didn’t feel so hot, her feet so heavy. Each step she took seemed to take forever. The backs of her legs began to ache from climbing.

A long time later, she’d come to a creek tripping and giggling over rocks. Lying beside it, Jenny put her fiery face down into the cool wetness. It felt so refreshing, so tingly freezing Jenny wanted to lie in it with her whole body. Pushing her face down into the water, she sputtered as her nose filled and she couldn’t breath. Jenny came up snorting water from her nose, coughing.
That horrible cough that made her throat aching and raw. Jenny scooped up some water in her hand and tried to drink. It hurt so much to swallow, she gave up right away.

A spasm of shivers shook her body so hard Jenny had to sit still a few minutes to stop the trembling in her legs. How could her face feel like it was on fire when her arms had goose bumps? How long she sat, head aching and a sick feeling in her stomach, before she got up Jenny couldn’t remember. When she did stand, her body wobbled so much she had to reach out and grab hold of a tree to steady herself.

I’m scared. I’m all alone. I want Daddy. I want Daddy. I’m tired and my throat hurts. I want Daddy. See, Daddy, there were too bank robbers. Uncle Nick believes me now. Somebody find me.

Dirty darn. Dirty, dirty, dirty darn.

Jenny stumbled over a pile of rocks, danced to right herself but ended up falling forward skinning both her hands. Eyes smarting, throat aching, Jenny let an interesting word of Uncle Nick’s cross her mind. Almost she yelled it to the uncaring rocks on the path. Then thought she better not say it. If God planned to send Daddy to find her, He might get angry with her for using naughty words. Maybe He’d tell Daddy to ride in another direction for awhile, just so she’d learn a lesson.

Dirty darn. The scrapes on her palms stung. Jenny pulled a strip of petticoat from her pocket to wipe off the blood and grit. Hot tears dripped down on her wounds as she looked at her ruined petticoat. The strip she held had torn around two of Jenny’s favorite ducks. Both of them, the pink duck with the purple hair ribbon...that was the Jenny duck...and the green one with a little black Stetson hat...the Daddy duck were still perfect. Just like Mama had embroidered them.

Sitting on the ground, pressing the cloth into her stinging hands, Jenny cried a little for Mama. She’d never tell Daddy, but sometimes she forgot what Mama looked like or how her voice sounded. Mama’s hands she could remember plainer than anything. Embroidering the ducks, brushing her hair, wrapping her in a shawl or guiding her hands while she learned to write her letters. She remembered too how Mama had been awful strict about so many things. Like dresses. Mama never wanted her to have fancy dresses. Mama and Daddy were always getting into arguments because Daddy didn’t want Jenny dressed like a “sharecropper’s daughter!”

“It’s better to be pretty inside than out, “ Jenny could still hear that in her mind. But even though Mama thought you shouldn’t be vain about dresses, Jenny’s underclothes were always prettier than any other little girl in Salinas School. Mama used lace and ribbon and embroidered with a lavish hand because only a little girl and her Mama saw her underclothes. All the other petticoats were too small now, all except her ducks and she’d never wear that one again. Darn that Uncle Nick anyway!

Jenny sighed, wiped away her tears with a determined hand and tied another strip of petticoat to a nearby branch. Her two favorite ducks she kept tucked in her hand. I’m not using that one, no matter what Uncle Nick told me to do. If I get lost forever and ever, I’m not tying these ducks anywhere. So there, Uncle Nick!

I sure am tired. I ache all over and my throat hurts from coughing. Bet I’ll have to take that nasty medicine Dr. Merar always gives me when I get sick. I hate that! I hate it. I don’t wanna be sick.

Jenny stopped in the trail, looked at the scrap of petticoat in her hand. Why did Uncle Nick tear this? Her eyes blurred a little, the ducks going fuzzy and clearing as she looked down at them. Almost she remembered there was something important she was suppose to be doing. Uncle Nick told me...what did he say to do? Where is Daddy? Why doesn’t he come find me? Shaking, her legs too weak to hold her up suddenly, Jenny plopped down on the ground. Her pockets felt full. Wondering, Jenny pulled the rest of the petticoat strips out of her pockets, piling them in her lap.

Mama. Mama. Mama would be mad when she saw that petticoat. No. Grandma would be mad. Mama was sleeping with the angels.

Jenny stood up, the petticoat strips falling like white leaves to the ground. Looking down, she thought maybe she should pick them up. Her hand reached down but she felt so dizzy it didn’t seem worthwhile to bend over. Maybe she should try to find Uncle Nick. Stumbling, Jenny wandered off...not certain which way to go or why.

“Jenny! Nick!”

As dark fell again, the cold seeped slowly into the mine shaft. Nick felt himself drifting between consciousness and sleep. Jenny? Had she found help? Or had he sent a helpless little girl on a fool’s errand? How would he tell Jarrod if anything happened to Jenny? Jarrod would never forgive him.

“Nick! Jenny!”

From somewhere far away he heard the shouts. Heard yet imagined he didn’t. When Nick finally realized the voices were real, he began to shout back his voice rusty with disuse. “Here! Down here!”

Excited voices rang out. Heath! Jarrod! A lantern dangled over the edge, the light blinding him for a few seconds. “Nick? You down there?”

“Heath!” He almost sobbed the name in relief.

“Hang on, Nick, we’ll get a rope down to you.”

“Jenny! Nick, is Jenny alright?” Jarrod’s voice asked with an edge of panic.

Dear God, they didn’t find Jenny. Nick, who’d been trying to stand, sank back down into the muck. “She isn’t down here. I helped her out this morning.”

“My God!” Jarrod shouted down, “Where is she?”

Heath shoved Jarrod back from the edge of the shaft. In Jarrod’s state of mind, he looked about ready to leap over the side to get to Nick. “Wait til we get Nick up! Nick, are you able to tie a rope around your waist?”

Nick shook his head, not caring if he got up or not. Facing Jarrod at that moment was the last thing he wanted to do. Realizing Heath couldn’t see his head shaking in the dim light, he called up, “I don’t think so. My hand is busted.”

“Chet,” Heath said to one of the other men, “can you climb down and help Nick up?”

Agreeable, Chet tied the rope around his waist, walking down the side of the shaft as Heath, Ben and Maddox played out the rope. Jarrod was no help at all. Impatiently, he paced around pounding a fist into the palm of his hand. Chet reached the floor of the mine, clapped the boss on the shoulder. “Let me help you tie this on, Boss.” After he got the rope tied around Nick’s waist, he yanked and called to the men overhead, “Bring him up.”

Nick’s journey up the shaft went easier than his trip down. It hurt trying to hang onto the rope one armed and several times on the way up his busted leg banged against the side of the shaft. But it was nothing compared to the squeezing pain in his heart. Where was Jenny? Why hadn’t she been found yet? And Nick felt real fear at facing Jarrod. The brother who’d trusted him to take care of his daughter.

Jarrod didn’t wait a second before Nick’s feet touched solid ground, “Where is she? Where’s my baby?”

“I told you. I helped her out this morning. She was getting sick...”

“My God, Nick!” Jarrod exploded, “Why didn’t you keep her with you! Why didn’t you keep her safe?”

“Pappy, she was getting sick...” Nick’s brow pinched in worry as he tried to explain his decision. “I thought someone might find her or...”

With a savage growl of pure fury, Jarrod started for Nick. Heath grabbed Jarrod tight, pinned his arms behind his back as he strained to hold his furious brother. “Jarrod! He’s hurt!”

“I don’t care! Where’s Jenny? My God, where is Jenny? How will I find her?”

“She left a trail,” Nick struggled to bend picking up the scrap of Jenny’s petticoat. “I had her tie off trail markers along the way. You can follow them, Jarrod.”

Jarrod yanked his arms away from Heath. Swaying slightly, still so angry he saw Nick through hate filled eyes, he turned back toward Jingo. “Which way did she go? Do you know that? Or didn’t you care?”

Nick, his face as tortured as Jarrod’s, caught his first glimpse of Jenny’s “trees.” There were trees alright...one tier after another of pines rising up a steep mountainous cliff. He’d sent Jenny into the worst combination of circumstances possible. “She went that way.”

As Jarrod looked where he pointed, his face hardened. With deadly calm he turned back to face Nick. “If anything happens to her, I’m going to kill you.” Nick had no doubt he would.

“Jarrod! Wait!”

Heath cursed in his mind. Stupid fool! Jarrod mounted Jingo and went riding off in the fading dusk toward the mountains. Peering through the dark for another scrap of Jenny’s petticoat.

“Chet? You think you can get Nick back to the ranch? Nick, can you ride?”

“I think so,” Nick was too tired, too sore and too heartsick to care if he went anywhere at that point. “If someone can help me on a horse.”

“Maddox, you and Ben help Nick onto a horse. One of you go with Chet and the other go on back to find Sheriff Madden. Tell him where we are, that we need more men to find Jenny.”

Leaving them to figure it out, Heath went after Jarrod. When he finally caught up with him, Jarrod had dismounted and was half kneeling on the ground holding Nick’s black leather jacket. “She must have been wearing it,” he told Heath dully, as if he’d given up all hope of finding Jenny.

“Jarrod, it’s too dark to search. Let me build a fire and we’ll wait here tonight. Chet’s taking Nick back to the ranch. He’s going to send out more men to help.”

“She’s out there alone, Heath. Sick. He said she was sick. What if she falls? Or runs into a wild animal? What if she gets worse? I can’t lose her, Heath. I just can’t.”

Jarrod sat down heavily on a rock, staring up at the mountain before them. “I can’t lose her. If I lose Jenny, I’ve lost everything.”

“Look,” Heath put an encouraging hand on Jarrod’s tense shoulder, “there looks to be a trail going up. That must mean folks use it. Jenny’s got sense enough to stay on a trail. We’ll find her.”

I hope. Heath couldn’t deny the thought of Jenny, sick, alone and wandering around a mountain at night didn’t give him some qualms himself. With a heavy heart, he set about building up a fire near where Jarrod sat. For most of that night, Heath kept the fire going while Jarrod sat on the rock, hands hanging limply between his legs just staring, staring at the sky. When it began to rain, Jarrod didn’t notice. As if the cold, penetrating rain pelting down didn’t exist. They lost the warmth of the fire as the rain extinguished it in a hissing, smoking cloud of steam.

Heath got a rain poncho from Jarrod’s saddlebag and draped it over Jarrod’s head. His brother didn’t move. Heath spent the rest of the night, drenched to the skin, huddled under some trees that dripped on his Stetson with an annoying rhythm. Worrying and praying.

At first light, a pewter gray daylight, Jarrod stood up. Untying Jingo from the picket line Heath had tied the night before, he began to walk silently up the trail. By midmorning a weak sun came out. Just in time to light up the path where a sodden heap of petticoat strips told a grim story. Jarrod jumped off Jingo, knelt beside them. Picking up the limp strands, he touched the embroidered ducks almost reverently.

“Jenny must have dropped these,” Heath tried to soften the blow. He didn’t say out loud what they both thought. If Jenny hadn’t left a trail beyond here how were they to know what direction she’d gone? “Maybe we’re getting close to finding her.”

“How could Nick do this?” Jarrod raged, standing up with the scraps clenched in his fist. “He never thinks! Never! Just barges ahead without thinking about the consequences of his actions. My little girl is out here somewhere. She’s sick. She’s probably scared.”

“Jarrod, don’t...”

“Don’t what, Heath? Don’t blame him? This is his fault.”

“We’ll find her, Jarrod. She can’t have gone far.”

Jarrod didn’t answer. Carefully, he put the scraps of Jenny’s petticoat in his saddlebags, took up Jingo’s reins and started to walk on up the trail again.

The rain began again, a slow, steady dripping. Heath tried not to imagine a sick little girl out in weather that chilled him to the bone. For hours the search seemed futile. Hopeless. Trees slapped them wetly in the face, the rain slithered under the collars of their shirts. Too bad, Heath thought, that Jenny had taken off Nick’s jacket. It might have offered her some protection.

When Heath finally did find Jenny, it took a minute of shocked unbelief to recognize that head of dark hair, stringing wet. If it wasn’t for the bright pink of her dress, Heath might have passed her by on the trail. She’d crawled off the path and curled up inside a hollow tree. Heath ran to her, noticing that pale face. Her dark eyelashes looked almost black against those white cheeks. He could never recall seeing Jenny so still and pale.

“Jenny?”

Dear God, let her still be alive.

“Jenny!”

Agonizing seconds passed while Heath felt to see if she were breathing. He felt a tiny pulsing in her throat, felt a little warm breath when he put his hand under her nose. But she was cold, her body like ice. He chaffed her face, rubbing warmth back into her as he waited. Jenny’s eyes fluttered open. It was the sign Heath had been waiting to see. “Jarrod! She’s over here!”

“Is she alive?” Were Jarrod’s first words as he crashed through the underbrush.

Heath grinned. “Looks like she’s like all the other Barkley’s, too mule stubborn to die.”

“Thank God, thank God.” Jarrod gathered her into his arms. “She’s soaked, Heath, and burning up with fever.”

They tried to decide if they should strip off all the wet clothes or just wrap her in blankets over them. Jenny began to shudder so violently, her teeth rattling together, that Jarrod just wanted the blankets. He didn’t want to expose her to the cold by taking off the wet dress. Heath got the blankets from the saddle bags, wrapped her tightly while Jarrod led the horses closer. He mounted Jingo and held out his arms for Heath to lift Jenny up to him.

“Should we aim for Stockton or Willoughby?” Heath asked as they led the horses carefully but quickly down the trail. “We’re about halfway between each.”

“Let’s take her home,” Jarrod decided. “I want to take her home.”

Chapter 24

“What’s keeping that doctor so long?” Nick fumed, hobbling around the parlor, his cane thumping. “Mother and Jarrod been up there for hours. Why don’t they come down and tell us something?”

“I don’t know, Nick,” Heath answered for the fifth time. Sitting quietly in a chair by the fireplace, he prided himself on how outwardly calm he appeared. Until he realized his teeth were clenched.

“This is all my fault,” Nick blamed himself, again for the fifth time. “I never should have let her go up alone. Pappy’s right. I should have kept her with me.”

“What good with that have done, Nick? You said yourself she was already sick. How could you know we’d find you before we found Jenny? You did what you thought was right. Me or Jarrod would have done the same thing.”

“I should have known!” Nick snapped. “I should have kept her with me. Sending her off into those hills where she’d be soaked to the skin...why didn’t I think? Why?”

“Don’t blame yourself, Nick,” Audra spoke quietly from her place on the sofa, “If you’re blaming anyone, blame me. She wanted to go to the Bisbain’s so badly that night. If I had just coaxed Mother a little, I’m sure she’d have let Jenny come along. It’s my fault she was here to go with you.”

Nick sat down beside her, put a comforting hand across her shoulders saying, “Aw, now, Sis, don’t blame yourself. Don’t cry, Audra. It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not anyone’s fault,” Heath spoke quietly, “Maybe I could blame myself too for not listening when she tried to tell me the bank had been robbed. Even if I did it wouldn’t do any good now. It’s too late for regrets.”

After a few awkward pats on Audra’s back, Nick stood up to begin his lopsided pace again. His insides crawled with shame. Heath and Audra could think what they liked. He, Nicolas Barkley, was the guilty party and he knew it. Pappy trusted him to keep Jenny safe and he’d let him down. After Father, Jarrod was the man Nick admired more than any one else. To know that he’d lost favor in Jarrod’s sight, that he’d done something so stupid Jenny was sick because of it ate away at him. Even if Jarrod could forgive him, Nick wasn’t sure he could forgive himself.

The sound of a door closing, footsteps coming down the upstairs hall was a signal for the three in the parlor to get up and move to the foyer. Heath put a comforting hand on Audra’s shoulder as Nick hobbled along beside them. Victoria and Dr. Merar came slowly down the staircase. Neither face held good news.

“Well?” Nick demanded.

Dr. Merar sighed, tucked his pocket watch back into a vest pocket and faced Nick squarely. Never one to mince words, he didn’t now. “Jenny is a very sick little girl. If you can get her fever down and clear up some of that congestion, she might have a chance. I’m not making any predictions.”

“She’s going to get better, right?” Nick asked hopefully, finding his legs so shaky he had to lean against the marble table in the foyer to steady himself. Jenny had to get well!

“Nick, her condition could go either way. As I told Jarrod the last time Jenny came down with the grippe, she’s not a strong child.”

Victoria moved to his side, threading her arm through his, “Nick, don’t look that way! Jenny is young, her heart is sound. She can come out of this.”

“It’s all my fault, “ Nick spoke dully.

“Nick...” Victoria began to scold when Dr. Merar picked up his hat. “I’d best be getting on now, Victoria. I’ll stop by again in the morning. You know what to do, now? You’ve been through this a few times when Jarrod was a baby.”

“Yes, Howard, we’ll be fine.” Victoria left Nick’s side to go shake the Doctor’s hand. Getting a few final instructions for Jenny’s care as she walked him to the door. “Thank you for coming.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll bid you all a goodnight.” He stopped to turn back, “Victoria, see that Jarrod gets some rest too. He’s half asleep on his feet. I don’t want another patient to deal with in the morning.”

Heath stepped in front of him to open the door, “Here, Doc, let me go get your buggy for you.”

“Thank you, Heath, Good night, all.” He went out the door with Audra and Victoria wishing his a heartfelt goodnight. Nick stood solemn and still, the words ‘very sick little girl” beating inside his brain like a condemning judge. Jenny wouldn’t be sick at all if it weren’t for his bullheaded stupidity.

When Heath came back a second later, Victoria squared her shoulders, rolled up the sleeves of her brown calico dress and started to pass out orders. “Heath, you’ll need to take more firewood up to the fireplace in Jenny’s room. We have to keep her warm. Audra, find some of that red flannel in the fabric chest in the attic. I’m going to make a mustard plaster to break up some of that congestion in Jenny’s chest. Nick? Nick?”

“Yes, Mother,” he shook his head a little to rid it of the tired refrain.

“Silas went to get some ice for Jenny’s fever. Do you think you could take it up to Jarrod when he comes back from the icehouse? I need him to help me mix up some herbs.”

Jarrod. No, Nick didn’t want to face Jarrod. Or Jenny. “Yes, Mother,” he answered because it was easier than having to explain his tortured feelings.

“Here you go, Mr. Nick, “ Silas handed him a pail of ice a few minutes after the rest of the family had gone off about their chores. “You think you can carry it?”

Nick brushed him away impatiently, nodding his head. The hand that had caused so much pain and trouble in the shaft turned out to just be sprained and swollen. After Dr. Merar had bandaged it up yesterday, the swelling had already started to go down. Nick could grasp the handle of the pail with that hand and still use his cane with the other. It took him awhile to get up the staircase, but eventually he did. Each stiff legged step bringing him closer to facing Jarrod. Nick had never dreaded anything more than having to open Jenny’s bedroom door. He sat the pail down on the floor, took a deep breath and turned the knob.

A lamp burned beside the bed, throwing a pool of lamplight over Jarrod sitting beside Jenny’s bed and Jenny. Tears watered Nick’s eyes as he stared at Jenny. So pale her dark eyelashes looked like smudges on her cheeks. And the sound...the sound of Jenny’s agony filled Nick’s ears as a fist of fear clenched his heart. Every breath Jenny took was loud, rasping as she fought to fill her lungs with air. Interrupting the breathing was that hacking cough. A cough she might not have if Nick Barkley had kept his wits.

“What do you want?” Jarrod asked brusquely , standing up.

“I brought up the ice.” Nick tried to hand the pail to Jarrod who refused to take it out of his hand. Fumbling for a second, unsure where to sit it, Nick finally just sat it down on the floor near Jarrod’s feet. If Jarrod would just do something. Punch him or shout. Instead he stood there with a look of pure hatred on his face glaring at Nick.

Nick turned to leave, Jenny’s breathing torturing him with guilt. He couldn’t stand not saying something to Jarrod. “Pappy...Jarrod, I know it doesn’t mean much right now but I’m sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing by getting her out of the cold. I didn’t know this would happen to Jenny.” Nick couldn’t keep the tears from his voice as he spoke, “I’d have given my life to keep her safe, Jarrod. You have to know that.”

“All I know,” Jarrod spoke in a deadly calm voice, “is that if Jenny dies, you aren’t going to be able to get far enough away where I won’t find you.”

Victoria, coming in the door with a dish pan full of the fragrant mustard plaster, stopped in shock. “Jarrod! Are you threatening your brother? When he did what he thought was right?”

“You figure it out, Mother,” Jarrod answered back in that same cruel voice, his eyes hardened into a straight line as he stared at Nick. “This is all his fault.”

Each day seemed an agony. Jarrod barely ate or slept, never wanting to be away from Jenny for long. Only when Dr. Merar, on his daily visits, would berate Jarrod for ruining his own health would Jarrod consent to a few hours of sleep or a hurried plate of food. Mother and Audra took turns nursing Jenny as she coughed and flailed around in bed. Each day was another battle to fight the fever and chills that racked Jenny’s body.
Jarrod spent hours draped under a steam tent with a barely conscious Jenny on his lap. As quickly as Mother, Audra and Silas boiled kettle after kettle of eucalyptus oil and other fragrant herbs, they’d pour them into a basin. Holding Jenny so she could breath in the healing steam, Jarrod’s arms ached from the strain, his own head so clear his ears hummed.

One week. Two. Jenny’s fever went down, stayed down while they all hoped she’d turned a corner, only to soar again. Every member of the family, except Nick who was not welcome in the sickroom, spent hours dribbling spoonfuls of nourishing broths and water into Jenny’s barely parted lips. It was a routine they’d become proficient at during Jenny’s last bout with grippe. One they’d hoped never to need again.

Nick’s own injuries had begun to heal by the time Jenny’s cough succumbed to the ministrations of Victoria and Dr. Merar. He could walk without the cane and his hand was almost normal. Pulling on his boots in the morning gave him a little pain in the joints of his fingers but Nick considered it just punishment. He’d let Jarrod down.

Jarrod refused to speak to Nick or even to look at him. A situation that set Victoria’s lips in a grim line and caused her no end of mental anguish. Both her older sons had their spats as they grew up. They’d fought one another many times with fists as they got older which always filled her with alarm. Over time, she’d learned that she couldn’t interfere no matter how stupidly they acted. They were both men, very stubborn men, both determined to prove they were right even if neither of them were. She’d learned to stand aside, wait for the victor to strut off and go to the end of the loser.

This time, Victoria found herself unsure what to do. She tried, in moments when she and Jarrod worked together over Jenny, to get him to see Nick’s side. At the mention of Nick’s name, Jarrod shut his mind closed and refused to listen. Even in moments when Jarrod should be at rest, Victoria saw a hard look of anger cross his face. Once, she plead with him to forgive Nick. If not for Nick’s sake, than for his and Jenny’s. Anger, Victoria could see, was eating away at Jarrod while guilt tormented Nick. One afternoon, in a pique of anger, she’d said to Audra, “If they were still little enough, I’d wear my spoon out on both of them.”

Jarrod sighed. Sitting beside Jenny’s bedside, he’d lost all track of time. It surprised him to feel the sun coming through the curtains as if it might be midafternoon. Was it the sun, or did Jenny’s face have more color today? Jarrod brushed the back of his hand across her cheeks. She did feel cooler, her breathing steadier, calmer. He shuddered at the memory of that horrible struggle for each breath. In nightmares, he would hear not the wild howling of a wolf but that agonized breathing.

If she would just come to and speak to him. Raging with the fever, Jenny never seemed to stop talking out of her head. She’d cry for Jarrod when he was sitting right beside her, holding her hand. Or weep for a drink of water as they were dribbling it into her mouth. Hardest of all were the nights she called out for her Mother. Or Nick. Even delirious, Jenny seemed to know that of all the people surrounding her, Nick was not around.
“Daddy,” she’d scream out, “Uncle Nick is lost! Find him! Please, find him!”

It tormented Jarrod. He knew that Mother often let Nick sit with Jenny when he’d gone to rest. Jarrod was glad it seemed to ease Jenny’s mind somewhat to know Nick had made it out of the shaft. But he made it a point never to cross paths with his brother. He’d trusted Nick to keep Jenny safe and Nick had failed her. He couldn’t forgive Nick for that.

Sitting beside Jenny’s bed, Jarrod came to with a start. He must have dozed off. A small stirring in the bed caused him to sit up. A small hand pulled out from under the white coverlet, brushed at her face. Jarrod caught her hand in his, whispering, “Jenny?”

“Daddy?”

“Yes, honey, Daddy’s here.” Jarrod leaned closer, smiling down at her. Jenny’s blue eyes looked steadily back up at him. Her clear blue eyes, aware, focusing and thankfully no longer clouded with fever.

“I want..” Jenny barely spoke the words.

“Yes, darling, anything.”

“I want to tell you something.”

Jarrod nodded. Jenny reached up with the hand he didn’t hold to touch his face. “Daddy,” she whispered seriously, “I told you there were bank robbers.”

Chapter 25

“Suppose I can admit this now,” Dr. Merar said a few days after Jenny’s fever had broken for good, “but when you and Heath brought her home that night I wasn’t sure she’d make it. I’d say Jarrod, if you were praying for a miracle, you got one.”

“We did indeed.” Jarrod agreed, pouring himself another cup of coffee from the silver coffee service on the kitchen table and offering the Doctor a refill. Dr. Merar declined, although he did help himself willing enough to the plate of freshly baked cookies a beaming Silas sat before him.

“Excellent, as always, Silas.”

“I’ll box you up some, Dr. Merar.” Silas smiled, pleased as always to feed someone else. The Doctor’s wife had been away, visiting her niece in Sacramento, so he’d been a guest at the ranch for more than one dinner lately. Surely did warm Silas’ heart to see someone put away a meal like the Doc.’

Dr. Merar brightened at the thought of more cookies and picked up the conversation where he’d left off. Discussing his patient. “Let’s keep her in bed awhile. We need to build up her strength and get some meat on her bones. She’s going to tire easily so make sure she gets plenty of rest. Not that she’s going to want to rest.”

Jarrod and Victoria, who stood at the end of the kitchen counter mixing up a bowl of dumplings, laughed. Victoria voicing their thoughts, “Jenny is like all the rest of the Barkley’s, if she can stand she’ll want to be on her feet.”

“Don’t let her,” Dr. Merar said seriously. “Be firm. I don’t want a relapse by her doing too much too soon. Keep her quiet, not too much excitement or getting overheated. I know I can count on you, Victoria, and Silas to fatten her up some. As soon a she feels able, you might try carrying her downstairs letting her be around the family. Just watch her closely. If she starts running another fever or getting chills, I want to know. I’ll send some tonic out from town tomorrow…it pretty bitter tasting,” he chuckled knowing how his small patient would take that news, “but it does the trick. Make certain she actually swallows it.”

Laughing, Jarrod agreed. More than once, he’d caught Jenny spitting out a carefully measured dose of medicine. They spoke a few more pleasantries, Silas boxed up a dozen oatmeal cookies and Jarrod walked Dr. Merar out to get his buggy. He came back into the kitchen smiling, despite the tired lines still around his eyes. Worry still shadowing his face.

“Well, lovely lady, as soon as I check on my daughter I’d better get into the office and see how much work has piled up in my absence.”

He leaned over to plant a kiss on her check, snatching a bite of dough from the bowl when he thought she wasn’t looking. Victoria playfully slapped at his hands. Wondering if she could bring up a subject that caused her no end of grief.

“Jarrod?”
He stopped on the bottom step of the kitchen stairs. “Yes, Mother?”

“Jenny’s better now. She’s going to start noticing that things between you and Nick are…” Searching for the right word, she could only come up with, “strained. Don’t you think he did the best he could, Jarrod? You weren’t down in that shaft. Nick was. Perhaps you would have made the same decision as he did.”

The smile left Jarrod’s face at the mention of Nick’s name to be replaced by a tight, unforgiving frown. “Jenny could have died. She’s not quite out of the woods yet.”

“She didn’t.”

“She could have.” Without another word, Jarrod turned and walked heavily up the stairs. Leaving Victoria to take out her angry frustration on the dumplings.

“Silas? Did you ever find my spoon?”

“No, Miz Barkley,” Silas answered, raising an eyebrow. “But dontcha think Mr. Nick and Mr. Jarrod are a little too old for that?”

“I’m beginning to wonder. They’re both acting like children. Obstinate little boys!”

Dirty darn. Darn that old Dr. Merar. Why couldn’t she get up if she wanted to? Staying in bed all day! Jenny kicked all the covers off peeved at this news. She’d almost rather be in school than stuck in this darned old, wrinkly bed. Nothing to do, nobody to talk to…rest, rest, rest. I’m tired of resting.

Hearing someone outside her bedroom door, Jenny quickly pulled the covers back up and obediently plopped her head down on her pillow. Grandma had just been up earlier insisting she take a nap. Jenny sure didn’t want to take a nap, having just woken up and had breakfast, but Grandma insisted. Grandma was good at insisting too. All she had to do was mention the fact that maybe Dr. Merar had some medicine to help her sleep and Jenny couldn’t lie down quickly enough. Maybe Grandma was coming to check up on her.

“Jenny?” Aunt Audra whispered holding the door part way open, “Are you asleep?”

Jenny popped up, glad of the company. “No. Come visit me, please, Aunt Audra.”

Audra came in, fresh and smiling in a coral pink dress that made her cheeks glow and her yellow hair look like a soft yellow cloud around her face. With a twinkle in her blue eyes, she pulled a tissue paper wrapped gift from behind her back. “I made you something.”

“A present!” Jenny struggled to sit up, not willing to admit how awful tired it made her feel. Aunt Audra had to prop two pillows behind her back and help her sit up that much.

“Open it,” Audra encouraged, looking on eagerly while Jenny tore into the paper, needing some help in pulling it off a small pillow with a crazy quilt pattern on the front. Anxiously, Audra watched as Jenny looked at the pieces that made up the pattern, the scraps of cloth she’d used. “Do you like it?”

“It’s my ducks,” Jenny’s eyes glistened with joyful tears while her fingers touched the little ducks that use to swim along the edge of her petticoat. “The ducks Mama sewed me.”

“Jarrod picked up some of the pieces you dropped on the trail and brought them home. The night Mother and I took off all your wet clothes, we found this piece clenched in your hand.” She pointed out the Jenny duck and Daddy duck. “I knew how much it meant to you, Jenny. Then when Nick told us how upset you were because he had to tear it up, I wanted to find a way to fix it for you. I couldn’t make you another petticoat, the pieces were too small. I thought you might like this instead.”

Jenny’s eyes shone as she looked up at Audra, “I love it. It’s better than a petticoat. It smells like Sky Meadow.”

“That’s because it’s filled with balsam and pine needles.” She leaned down as Jenny held up her thin arms for a hug. “Now you’d better take a nap before Mother comes up here and we both get a scolding. Lie down and I’ll tuck you in.” Jenny, too sleepy to protest, obeyed, holding the pillow up against her cheek.

Around a yawn, Jenny mumbled, “Thank you, Aunt Audra,” as her eyes slowly shut.

“You’re welcome.” Audra waited a few minutes, gratefully listening to Jenny’s quiet, even breathing before she pulled up the white coverlet and bent over to kiss her niece’s cheek.

Jenny’s recovery, while slow, was steady. It might have been quite a job of keeping Jenny confined in bed or sitting quietly in a chair if she hadn’t been too weak to do much of anything else. No matter how much she grumbled or protested the enforced rest, Jenny had no trouble falling asleep the instant her head hit a pillow. As the days passed, Jenny was just sick enough to warrant cosseting but well enough to resent it.

Once Jarrod went back to work, Victoria began to see a new problem arising. It began innocently enough but as the days passed, she could see that something would have to be done. Dr. Merar wanted Jenny to eat. He demanded that she eat a lot to build up her strength. A ruling that brought out the Mother Hen in Jarrod and waved a red flag in Victoria’s mind.

Jarrod was so happy to have Jenny eating that he began to grant her every whim. Jenny, being quick to catch on to this delightful set of circumstances, used it to her advantage at every opportunity. If she pouted or complained loudly enough about having to eat that “nasty” liver, Jarrod couldn’t get to the kitchen fast enough to make sure she had something she preferred. Like apple pie. Jenny seemed to prefer a great many pieces of apple pie.

“Jarrod, she’s leading you around with a ring through your nose,” Victoria argued with him one evening. “If you don’t nip this in the bud, we’re going to have a little tyrant on our hands.”

“Now, Mother, she’s just been so ill she deserves to be a little demanding. We can spoil her a little.”

Victoria tightened her lips, rolling her eyes at his stupidity. “Jarrod, she is becoming a brat and taking advantage of you.”

“Mother…”

“Don’t argue, listen to me! It’s gone too far.”

Jarrod just laughed, kissed her lightly on the cheeks then went off on the errand that had incited her anger. Filling three separate dinner plates with Jenny’s mashed potatoes, peas and salad because she didn’t want them “touching” each other. For a lawyer, he was awfully dumb about reality. Victoria sighed, knowing as she had from first noticing the problem that she’d had to be the one to snap her little granddaughter back into line. She wasn’t looking forward to it…Jenny could be a worthy opponent.

“I don’t want that,” Jenny curled her lip petulantly at the breakfast tray Victoria sat before her the next morning. “I want strawberry preserves.”

“That’s too bad,” Victoria said callously, “Silas thought you’d enjoy the plum conserve for a change.”

“I don’t! Bring me something else.”

Victoria would have liked nothing better than to use her spoon on a certain little backside at that point, but she’d already figured out a sneakier way to get Jenny to behave. Maybe Jarrod could ignore his daughter’s sudden “I am Queen of this house” attitude, Victoria couldn’t.

“No, Jenny. Silas doesn’t cook food in this house to be wasted. Eat your breakfast.”

Jenny thrust out her bottom lip, crossed her arms over white nightgown and glared. “I won’t. Where’s Daddy?”

Ah, ha…so you’re looking for help, Victoria thought gleefully. Glad she’d made sure Jarrod planned to stay late in Stockton tonight going to dinner at the Cattleman’s Hotel with several of the other ranchers. An arrangement she’d maneuvered from breakfast that morning. If Jarrod were here, her disciplinary techniques would last all of two seconds…if that long.

“He’s staying in town late tonight.” Victoria plumped up Jenny’s pillows, tidied up the room as she ignored her granddaughter’s pouting. A quick glance at Jenny’s face told Victoria she didn’t like this news about Jarrod being gone. Oh, what a mean scowl on such a thin, worried little face.

“I want him to come home.”

I’ll just bet you do.

“Now.”

Not a chance little lady. Not a chance. “He’ll be home tonight. Now, eat your breakfast and I’ll come back for the tray later.”

“I won’t!”

Jenny’s stubborn refusal grated on Victoria’s nerves but she smiled pleasantly enough as she answered, “That’s up to you. I’m sure if you get hungry enough you’ll eat.”

“Dr. Merar said I was ‘spose to eat a lot,” Jenny tried another tactic, having overheard Jarrod in worried conversation with the Doc about her earlier inability to eat much. “So you better get me something I can eat.”

Victoria clenched her hands together, thinking for just a second that she didn’t need a spoon when she had two very, strong, capable hands to do the job. Wisely, she ignored the urge knowing it wouldn’t be as effective as a hungry tummy. “You have a fine breakfast right there, Jenny. There are plenty of people in the world who would be glad to eat just part of what you have on your plate.”

“They can have it,” Jenny grumbled, shoving the tray away just enough that her milk spilled. “Give me something else!”

Victoria pretended to ignore the outburst. Going to the bedroom door, she opened it and turned back to say, “If you get hungry enough, you’ll eat your breakfast and be thankful for it.” She shut the door firmly on Jenny’s frustrated shouts and the sound of falling, breaking china.

Jenny didn’t eat. Victoria had predicted that, knowing she wouldn’t win the first battle in this war of wills. A very stubborn child sat on her bed when Victoria went back upstairs around noon. The breakfast tray lay on the floor, the glass shattered, the plate smashed and all of the food smeared into the oriental carpet beside Jenny’s bed. What a mess. Too bad she couldn’t insist Jenny clean it up. Under ordinary circumstances she’d stand over her while she did a proper job of it. Jenny, knowing that she wasn’t going to have to pick anything up, had a small smirk on her lips.

Just you wait, little girl. “You didn’t eat your breakfast, I see.”

“No.” Jenny’s voice wasn’t so much defiant as glad. Hadn’t she just gotten her way again? Wasn’t Silas down in the kitchen right now fixing her up a nice lunch?

“You must not be very hungry then.” Victoria quickly cleaned up the mess, ignoring the worried pucker on Jenny’s face. She’d made sure she left the bedroom door open so Jenny could smell her favorite food in the world, meatloaf, baking for dinner.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Victoria promised, taking away a wastebasket full of the ruined breakfast. Smiling a little at Jenny sitting up in bed, expectantly, waiting for the lunch she thought would appear.

When Victoria came back into the room, leaving the door open to that enticing aroma, carrying only a spoon and some of Dr. Merar’s nasty tasting tonic, Jenny’s face fell. “Aren’t you bringing my lunch?” She asked in disbelief.

“Of course not! If you couldn’t eat your breakfast, you must not be hungry enough for lunch either.

“But…” Jenny’s stomach rumbled, “I am hungry! I want my lunch.”

Victoria shook her head, making sure Jenny could see her measure out a brimming full spoon of the tonic. “Don’t be silly. Little girls who can’t eat breakfast must not be very hungry. Little girls who are hungry enough don’t complain about getting plum conserve instead of strawberry preserves.”

“I am hungry,” Jenny protested, near tears as she saw that spoon coming toward her mouth. “I won’t complain again. I promise.”

“Well, we’ll see,” Victoria held the spoon poised, “open your mouth. Your Father would never forgive me if I let you get sick again. You aren’t eating so I’m sure you need a dose of this.”

“No...” Jenny opened her mouth to wail, giving Victoria the opening she needed to push the spoon in her protesting mouth. Jenny’s eyes popped at this unexpected assault. As the bitter taste hit her tongue, she coughed and sputtered.

“I think you’d better lie down and take a nap now. If you think you’re able to eat later, I’ll bring you something.”

Gagging a little as her tongue curled up from the taste of the medicine, Jenny turned quickly compliant. Putting her head down on the pillow without a complaint. Victoria tucked her in, feeling a little hard hearted. Jenny probably expected some of that meatloaf filling the house with a rich, enticing scent. Too bad she wouldn’t be eating it.

Victoria waited as long as she dared before taking Jenny a dinner tray. Even though she knew it needed to be done, she couldn’t say her heart was in it. Teaching Jenny a lesson hurt her as much as it did Jenny. Maybe more.

“Here you go, Miz Barkley,” Silas handed her the tray with a sad little sigh. “I sure do hate to be giving this to Miss Jenny. Dry toast and tea. You think it might be okay if I saved her some meatloaf for tomorrow?”

Victoria sighed heavily herself as she took the tray, dreading the look on Jenny’s face when she saw it. She knew as well as her name that Jenny had been longing all day for that meatloaf. “Let’s just hope she learns her lesson tonight, Silas. I’d hate to have to go through another day like today. And if Jarrod finds out, he might sue us both.”

Silas rolled his eyes. “Yup, Mr. Jarrod, he sure won’t like this any. Starvin’ his baby when the Doctor says she’s got to eat.”

“Let’s just not let him find out.”

Jenny looked up brightly when Victoria came in the room. “Grandma! I been waiting and waiting for you.”

“I brought you some dinner.”

Setting the tray on Jenny’s lap, Victoria kept her eyes down to the napkin covering the dry toast and tea as Jenny pulled it off. A little gasp left her lips. Voice trembling, Jenny asked quietly, “Is this…is this all I get to eat?”

Victoria sat down on the edge of Jenny’s bed and dared to look into her granddaughter’s teary face. Casually, she said, “Yes, I think that’s all you get tonight, Jenny.”

A few unhappy tears rolled down Jenny’s cheeks. She sniffed, trying not to cry openly. In a small voice she asked, “Can’t I even have some plum conserve on the toast?”

“No.”

The few tears became a torrent as Jenny put both hands up to her face and cried. Victoria carefully moved the tray off Jenny’s lap so she could put her arms around the weeping little girl and hold her close. Stroking her hair, she spoke quietly, “You know, Jenny, you aren’t the only person living in this house. The sun doesn’t rise and set on what you want. I know you’ve been very ill and because of that we’ve all spoiled you a little. We shouldn’t have but we did. And because of that we have a little problem. Do you know what that is?”

Jenny shook her head no against Victoria’s chest.

“We have a little girl who’s become very rude and demanding…a little girl named Jenny. She forgets her manners, orders people around and talks very disrespectfully to grownups. That’s not the way for a little girl to behave so we have to stop that, don’t we, Jenny?”

Jenny cried a little harder instead of answering. Victoria pressed on. “If you were well, Jenny, you wouldn’t have been acting this way. You would have already been punished the first time you spoke rudely. Little girls aren’t allowed to act that way in this house and after today you aren’t going to either. If I catch you at it again, you will be punished. I love you too much to allow you to grow up into a spoiled, demanding brat. I’ll be as severe as I have to be to make sure that doesn’t happen. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Jenny wavered. Only too glad after a few minutes of cuddling and reassurances of her Grandmother’s love, to sit up and eat her dry toast and sip her tea.

Victoria settled her for the night, kissing her tear streaked face and hoped she’d made her point. Only time would tell. If she had straightened Jenny out, she could start on Jarrod. Tomorrow. Rolling her eyes, Victoria blew out the lamp. One stubborn Barkley was all she could handle in a day.

Chapter 26

Pleasantly surprised, Victoria waited two days for Jenny to begin another skirmish. Having raised four children, one of them Nick, she didn’t dare hope that Jenny’s behavior had changed for good. Not yet. The brief lull in hostilities between Grandmother and granddaughter might have been due to Jarrod’s absence from the house. Going back to the office, he’d thankfully gotten involved in a case with a rancher being hustled by the railroad. Most days he left before Jenny woke and arrived home in time for a few brief moments past a drowsy little girl’s bedtime. Jenny was smart enough to know that being under the sole care of her Grandmother most days, she’d better toe the mark or else.

On one of Dr. Merar’s daily visits, he exclaimed over the continuing progress of his unusually docile patient. Since she’d gotten well enough to protest his poking and prodding, Jenny was often vocal. It surprised him that she submitted to every indignity of that visit, including the swallowing of another bitter potion, without a whimper. He noticed when Jenny started to complain once a rather fierce look from her Grandmother stilled any rebellion.

Later, over coffee in the parlor, he understood as Victoria explained her tactics as well as her worries about Jarrod. His hearty laugh rang out as he stirred more sugar in his steaming cup of coffee. “Becoming a little demanding is she? Don’t worry, Victoria, it’s common enough in children who’ve been ill a long time.”

“I know we’re all partly to blame,” Victoria admitted, sipping her own coffee. “We were so afraid of losing her, we kept giving in to her demands.”

“Understandable. This is a harsh country. Most children don’t make it to their first birthday. Many times parents fall into the trap of being too doting to the ones who survive. I can’t say I’ve ever noticed that trait in Jarrod before but it wouldn’t surprise me. He’s lost two wives and a son, naturally he’s going to fear losing Jenny too.”

Victoria shook her silver curls, setting her cup back in the saucer with an impatient rattle. “Oh, I understand that well enough, Howard. I can even sympathize with him. It’s just that I know if we don’t nip this behavior now, we’re going to have a pint sized tyrant ruling this house when she gets out of that bed.”

Howard laughed. “I can’t see the Victoria Barkley I know letting that happen.” At her rueful grimace, he laid a hand over hers. “Seems to me those tactics of yours are bearing fruit. I’ve never seen Jenny so willing to take a dose of medicine.”

“That’s because she knows I baked lady fingers for her today.” She laughed but concern sounded in her next words. “Seriously, I did worry about her missing meals.”

“Don’t. Jenny’s strength is building up nicely. She’s doing well. Missing a meal here or there, for disciplinary purposes, “his eyes twinkled, “isn’t going to harm her. You might give her extra milk or broth the next day.”

“That sets my mind at rest. Now if I could just get Jarrod to agree to a little of that discipline for himself. He caters to her every whim. I’m almost afraid she’s going to demand he pick a star out of the sky for her and he’ll figure out a way to try. I have nightmares of him roping ladders together and climbing them with a butterfly net.”

“Jarrod always impresses me as a very level headed Father,” Howard told her comfortingly after he stopped laughing at the imagine of Jarrod climbing toward the stars, butterfly net in hand. “In fact, I see a lot of Tom raising Nick in Jarrod.”

“Yes, Nick and Jenny are similar.”

“Don’t worry, Victoria,” he stood up to take his leave, brushing cookie crumbs from his shirt and pants’ legs. “Jarrod and Louisa did a good job the first seven years. The rest of you have taken over and you’re doing an outstanding job. Did you know that last month, when my wife was off in Sacramento tending her sister, that Jenny got permission from Sister Patience to spend most of her recesses doing chores around my office? Don’t tell my wife, but I never had the furniture dusted so well.”

Victoria smiled, titling her head at the idea that Jenny had done something kind for someone and kept it a secret. More and more she saw Jarrod and Louisa in their daughter. She stood up to see Dr. Merar to the door, holding it open while he put his hat on his graying hair.

“Try not to worry about the situation, Victoria. Jarrod won’t put up with an ill behaved child for long. Given the right set of circumstances, even he will see that Jenny needs a firm hand.”

“I hope you’re right, Howard.”

“Of course, I am,” he grinned, “and Victoria, if you have to raise the level of your discipline, a few firm swats won’t hurt Jenny either. It might even be the very remedy she needs. I’ve found it very effective on a great many reluctant young patients, including your sons.”



Although Victoria hoped, the right set of circumstances didn’t happen for several days after her talk with Dr. Merar. Jenny, as cunning as Nick had been at that age, became very discreet in any demands she made of Jarrod. Knowing, wisely enough, that most of her days would be spent with an already irate Grandmother.

Little Miss Barkley did manage to wheedle two extra pieces of peach pie out of her tired, guilt stricken Father one night. Victoria didn’t get to carry out her plans for this infringement of her standards the next day. Jenny paid a higher price by being too ill to keep anything but water down the next day.

Audra, who usually spent the afternoons reading to Jenny, was persuaded to read a few pertinent Bible verses that day. Ones that Victoria had carefully chosen to point out the sin of gluttony. When she asked pleasantly enough later if Jenny had enjoyed Audra’s reading to her, Jenny wept. Having gotten the point very well. Victoria had always admired that in Jenny, you didn’t have to shove the truth into her stubborn little head. Usually, she caught on quickly enough.

Dr. Merar was able to drop a few well placed words into Jarrod’s ear about Jenny’s eating habits. Once he saw the error of his ways, it didn’t take Jarrod long to come to his senses and start refusing her many commands. The endless succession of apple pie stopped. Victoria hoped, briefly, that he’d seen his petulant little girl as she’d become. Her hopes were shattered when Jarrod began to lavish Jenny with the doll she coveted at the Stockton General Store as well as several bolts of yard goods for new dresses. Victoria sighed sadly. Wishing Jarrod’s eyes would just open to the error of his ways. Soon.

In her own battle of wits with Jenny, Victoria came out victorious on a hot, sticky morning.
Carrying fresh linens up to the linen closet, she’d overheard the peevish Miss Jenny giving Audra trouble. Stopping to listen as the battle ensued.

“I don’t wanna wear that nightgown!” Jenny fretted, Victoria could hear her kicking at the bedposts, “I want my blue one!”

“Your blue one hasn’t been washed yet,” Audra answered in her usual pleasant voice. Explaining more patiently than Jenny deserved. “This one is pretty too. Don’t you love the lace around the collar?”

“It isn’t pretty! It isn’t! That old lace scratches my neck an’ the sleeves are too tight. I want my blue one right now! You get it right now or I’m telling Daddy you were mean to me.”

“Maybe I can find one you’ll like better,” Audra tried to placate her by going to search in Jenny’s wardrobe.

Victoria quickly put the linen away, pushed up the sleeves of her blue dress and strode purposefully into the room. This had gone far enough. “Audra, give me that nightgown. Jenny will wear what she’s told to wear.”

Jenny, who’d been a holy terror when she thought her Grandmother was safely sorting linen in the kitchen was now a docile little mouse. Cowering back against her pillows, bottom lip quivering. She knew by the look in her Grandmother’s eyes she’d gone a little too far in naughtiness.

Keeping her voice calm and matter of fact, Victoria peeled off Jenny’s nightgown. As Jenny meekly held up her arms Victoria slipped on the fresh one. Making certain that before she pulled it over Jenny’s knees, she left two firm slaps on Jenny’s bare thigh. Jenny gasped a little in shock, her eyes filling with tears.

“Now, apologize to your Aunt Audra at once. We are not going to have any more of that behavior in this house.”

“I’m sorry, Aunt Audra,” Jenny said obediently with tears in her voice.

“Lie down.”

Crying a little, Jenny obeyed. Victoria helped her settle back on the pillows, pulled a light sheet over her and tucked a rag doll in the crook of Jenny’s arm. “I’ve told you before, Jenny, I won’t tolerate you speaking to grown ups like that. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Grandma,” Jenny wept, sincerely contrite, “I’m sorry.”

It was the last time she dared speak to anyone, except Jarrod, in a whiney, demanding way. Victoria began to see some light at the end of the tunnel. Not long after that morning, Dr. Merar’s “right set of circumstances” arrived. The heat in the valley had been abysmal that day. Most of the leaves on the trees and brushes were curled inward, gasping for rain. Not a breath of air stirred making anyone who couldn’t sit calmly in the shade cranky and hotter.

Jarrod had spent most of the day cooped up in the Stockton Courthouse, trying to question a witness who wanted to play ring around the rosy with any question he were asked. It had taken an hour to get the man to admit he’d actually been in California on the date under discussion. On the way home, Jingo had thrown a shoe leaving him to limp a long, hot mile on foot with a blister on his heel from a pair of new boots. When he finally threw his hat on the foyer table, shedding his coat and tie, he was drained, disagreeable and out of sorts.

“Jarrod,” Victoria said pleasantly, welcoming him home with a kiss, “you look hot.”

“I am, extremely. “ Limping into the parlor, he sat down and pulled off the offending boots with relief as he outlined his day. He leaned back in a chair, rubbing his head as if he might have a headache.

Victoria offered to bring his a cool drink, quick to see where Jarrod’s present state of mind might work to her advantage and Jenny’s. Because of the persistent heat, she’d spent quite a day herself with a fractious Jenny. While Jenny hadn’t dared sass or whine, the heat hadn’t improved her disposition either. It took three sponge baths to cool Jenny off enough so she’d attempt to take a nap and even then she kept fussing around on her bed wishing she could go swimming.

“Here’s some cold tea,” Victoria offered him a glass, making plans to send him up to Jenny as soon as he’d had a brief opportunity to relax. She didn’t want him in too good a humor. She gave him ten minutes to cool down. “Jarrod, would you mind taking Jenny up a glass of tea? I promised a while ago I’d bring her up a drink.”

Victoria didn’t tell him she’d promised Jenny lemonade. Or that in making Jenny’s tea she hadn’t sweetened it enough to suit Jenny’s taste. While Jenny might drink it without complaint, Victoria hoped instead that her irritable, obnoxious little mouth would open her Father’s eyes.

“How come you brought tea?” Jenny whined, hot and irritable. “Grandma said I could have lemonade.”

Irritable himself, Jarrod handed her the tea and said briskly, “I don’t know. Drink your tea.”

“Yucky! It’s not sweet enough!” Jenny made a face after she’d taken a drink. Wanting but not quite daring to dump it into the floor.

“Jenny, it’s hot, I’m tired and I don’t feel like listening to you complain. Either drink the tea or don’t. It’s up to you.”

“I want lemonade! You go get me some right now!”

“What did you say?” Jarrod asked deadly calm. Staring at Jenny. Had she just spoken to him as he thought she had? Was his nine year old daughter ORDERING him to get her some lemonade? How dare she?

“I want lemonade!”

Jarrod walked slowly over to her bed, looking down at Jenny with his eyes beginning to open. “I don’t like the tone of your voice, little lady.” Sternly, he went on, “Don’t you dare ever speak to me like that again. I am your Father and you will speak to me with respect. Do you understand?”

It hadn’t taken Jenny an instant to see that she’d pushed Daddy a little too far. “I didn’t really mean to say it that way, Daddy.” A small timid smile lifted the corners of her lips, disappearing at his disapproving frown. Dirty darn, she’d made him mad. Awful mad.

“You meant to say it exactly how you did,” he disagreed, his face getting hard and angry as he glowered at her. “In fact, you’ve been very rude and disrespectful lately. It stops this instant, do you hear me, Jennifer?”

Oh, she heard alright. Especially that forbidding Jennifer. Might as well kiss that lemonade good-bye.

“Answer me!”

“Yes, sir, I understand,” Jenny answered meekly, trying to look sick enough so that his anger might cool.

“Is this the way you’ve been speaking to your Grandmother?”

Jenny answered quickly, “No sir.” Not for a few days. Was it a lie if you didn’t tell the whole truth?

Jarrod gave a hard laugh, “No, I suppose you aren’t. I spoke to my Mother like that only once and my Father made certain I never did it again.”

“He must have not been as nice as you, huh, Daddy?”

Dirty darn, this was not good. Not the way he kept glaring at her. “I’d better not catch you speaking to anyone like that, you hear me, Jennifer?”

Oh, she sure wished he would stop calling her Jennifer. “Yes, sir,” she answered him meekly.

It didn’t make Jarrod feel better to know it was mainly his fault Jenny had become insufferable enough that she’d order him to get lemonade. Now that he’d heard that peevish, whine in his daughter’ voice, he could see what had concerned Victoria. He’d spoiled Jenny, now it was up to him to snap her back into line. If he hadn’t been so hot and annoyed, he might have stopped with the warnings he’d already given. Instead, the weight of the whole miserable day crashed on his shoulders and he gave her the tongue lashing she deserved. By the time he finished scolding, Jenny cried in chest heaving sobs, inconsolable.

Feeling awful down to the blisters on his heels, he made sure to sternly remind her just what punishment awaited her if she ever dared to speak to him like that again. He left her crying, miserable over his angry outrage and decided he needed to soak in a cool bathtub for at least an hour. Dirty darn, there sure were days when it was hard to be a parent.

Coming along the upstairs hall not long after, Heath discovered that Jarrod had gotten first dibs on the bathtub. Easy going, as always, he’d decided to just clean up as best he could with the pitcher and washbowl in his room then lie down in the shade somewhere until dinner. As he passed Jenny’s room, heard her heartbroken tears, his plans changed.

It bothered Heath that he hadn’t been able to get back on the same footing with Jenny. Even though he had spent a lot of time spooning soup into her mouth, reading to her, sitting with her, putting cool cloths on her head, Jenny still acted a mite too standoffish for Heath. He knew she’d never gotten over resenting the fact that he’d had her filly sold. While he still felt he’d made the right decision in punishing Jenny, it didn’t hurt any less that she didn’t want to have much to do with him.

Not knowing if he’d make her tears better or worse, Heath opened the bedroom door.

“Is there something wrong, Jenny?”

Sobbing, Jenny looked at him with the most woebegone little face he’d ever seen, “I just want a drink of water but my pitcher is empty.”

Heath knew enough to know Jenny didn’t cry like that over an empty water pitcher. Maybe Mother had to scold her again for being rude. Heath had heard all about the showdown with the plum preserves. “I can get you a drink.”

“Thank you,” she cried, seeming glad that someone cared enough to get it for her. Must have been some hollering at she’d gotten.

“I’ll be right back.” Heath took the blue pitcher, hurried down the stairs into the kitchen and pumped it full of fresh water. Before he finished, Victoria came into the room carrying a handful of fresh rosemary for seasoning.

“Heath, is that Jenny’s pitcher? Let me take that up to her, you’ve been working hard all day.”

He smiled pleasantly, “No, Mother, I think I’ll take it up. I’ve been wanting a chance to set things right between me an’ Jenny. The time just feels right for it to be now.”

Victoria agreed, smiling inwardly as Heath took the stairs two at a time. She’d heard Jarrod shouting at Jenny all over the house, Jenny crying. While it broke her heart to hear Jenny so distressed, she couldn’t help but be thankful that Jarrod seemed to come to his senses. Now if Heath could just get Jenny to stop being angry at him, she only had two problems to settle before life could get back on an even keel.

Somehow, she had to get Jarrod to forgive Nick. And, before too long they were going to have to tell Jenny the truth about the bank robbery. Victoria picked up a knife and began to chop the sprigs of rosemary for stew. It would be hard to decide which she dreaded most.

Chapter 27

“Here you go, nice an’ cool.”

Heath poured Jenny a glass of water. Gratefully, Jenny gulped it down asking politely for more. After she’d finished the second glass, told him thank you, Heath wet a cloth and went to work on her flushed, sweaty face. The heat had plastered her hair in limp strands that stuck to her tear damp cheeks. Heath wiped away all the traces of tears, wondering if he should sympathize as Jenny snuffled over her troubles.

“Daddy yelled at me,” she offered the explanation, “for being naughty.”

Heath pulled up a chair and sat down beside the bed. “Ya know, Jenny,” he drawled, “it don’t seem to me there’s much naughtiness a little girl can get into being stuck in bed like you are.”

“I can,” Jenny admitted proudly, sitting up a little straighter. “I can get in trouble anywhere.”

Heath laughed. “Reckon you could at that.”

Jenny giggled a little, beginning to bounce back from her unhappiness, “Maybe he won’t be angry with me later. Boy howdy, I sure don’t like it when Daddy is mad at me.”

“No, I reckon most folks don’t like having someone mad at them.” Heath could see, by the way Jenny ducked her head and studied him from beneath her lashes, she knew he meant her anger toward him. Nick had told Heath that he’d had a talk with Jenny down in the mine shaft. “I think she feels badly about it, Heath,” he’d said. “I think I got the point across that you were just looking out for her.”

Time would tell.

“Dr. Merar said I can go downstairs tomorrow,” Jenny changed the subject. “Grandma said she would make a tea party for me. With cake.”

“That sounds like a right fine plan,” Heath agreed, veering off too, “maybe me an’ Nick should come in an’ have ourselves some of that tea too.”

Jenny laughed. “You just want the cake.!” Forgetting herself, she teased, “An lots of sugar cubes for Charger.”

“Maybe so,” Heath agreed carefully. At the mention of Charger, Jenny sobered. Looking down at her quilt, she began to pluck at a loose thread with nervous fingers. Heath let her be, waiting.

“Uncle Heath? I’m real sorry Charger got hurt.”

“I was too, Jenny. But I’d have been sorrier if you got hurt or killed trying to ride him. I’d rather see Charger dead than know he’d ever be the cause of anything happening to you.”

“I only rode him cause of the bank robbers,” Jenny hastened to explain her eyes misting with tears. “They were shooting at us an’ we had to hide Billy.”

“Wouldn’t it have been smarter to come tell me? Let me handle it? Or Nick?”

“But Uncle Heath, what if you didn’t believe me? You wouldn’t even listen when I tried to tell you the next day. Nobody believed me an’ Billy really saw bank robbers. I had to take Charger.”

Heath shook his head. “No ya didn’t. It was wrong and you knew it when you did it.”

Pouting a little, Jenny didn’t answer. Nobody understood anyway.

“I kinda blame myself for that whole Charger thing, Jenny. Maybe you thought I wouldn’t get mad cause I let you get away with an awful lot. Even when you and Nicky were little, I covered up for you when maybe you should’ve been punished. I been thinkin’ that was wrong, that it gave you the wrong idea about respecting me...”

“Uncle Heath,” Jenny asked anxiously , “you aren’t going to start calling me Jennifer are you?”

Chuckling, Heath tousled her hair, “No. I ain’t gonna yell atcha either. I just want you to know that I think it’s about time I started acting more like Nick or Jarrod where you’re concerned.”

Jenny eyed him glumly, “I kinda figured that when you got mad about Charger. An’ when you told Uncle Nick to tell Mr. Parker to sell my horse.”

“You still mad about that? Cause if you are, I’m sorry,” Jenny looked up hopefully. Maybe he’d changed his mind about buying her the horse? “But I wouldn’t change what I did for anything. Not if it taught you to stay off Charger or any other horse you oughten to be riding.”

Dirty darn. Life sure wouldn’t be the same around here if she couldn’t count on Uncle Heath to take her side no matter what. Now she had to watch out for a Father, a Grandmother and two Uncles. Dirty, dirty darn.



“You have a visitor, Jenny,” Grandma announced one afternoon after Jenny had begun to go downstairs again.

Sitting on the patio, enjoying her second day outdoors, Jenny had to look twice before she recognized the visitor as Billy. She’d never seen him so spiffed up except at church on Sundays. Even then his shirt was usually untucked and his hair in disarray. Today his hair had been slicked flat with bear grease by the chocking smell, he’d been dressed in a clean, pressed blue shirt and dark trousers. His face wore a look of impatient suffering as he shoved a fistful of limp, pink poppies toward Jenny.

“What happened to you?” Jenny asked.

“Ma said I hadta. She said to give you these.” He thrust the flowers into her face.

Jenny pushed them away frowning, “What am I ‘spose to do with the stupid things?”

“Jenny,” Grandma chided, in a behave or else voice, “where are your manners. Billy was kind enough to bring you a gift. What do you say?”

“Thanks,” Jenny told him grudgingly. Like a bunch of dumb flowers was a good present.

“I’ll go find a vase for these,” Grandma took the dying bouquet from Billy’s hand, “Maybe I can find some of those raisin cookies you like, Billy.”

Billy brightened at that as he sat down on a wrought iron chair. After Victoria had gone back into the house he leaned forward and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “Ma said you almost died.”

“I guess.”

“I’m glad ja didn’t,” Billy said warming Jenny’s heart in one second, annoying her in the next with the rest of his thought, “cause Ma said if you died I hadta wear my blue suit and kiss your face in your coffin.”

“Ewww!”

Victoria overheard that exchange as she arrived back on the patio with a tray of raisin cookies and glasses of milk. “Billy, what a morbid thought.”

“Grandma,” Jenny wanted this taken care of right that second. “Promise if I ever die you won’t let Billy kiss me in my coffin. Promise?”

“Stop that kind of talk at once,” Victoria ordered sternly, leaving no room for argument, “Eat your cookies or you’re going back to bed.” She ignored her pouting Granddaughter and left the two to visit. Or fight. With Jenny and Billy one was never sure.

Jenny slumped down in her chair, arms folded over the chest of her black and red plaid dress. Probably if she died they’d let Billy smooch an’ slobber all over her. Dirty darn. At least she could be happy he’d have to wear his blue suit. Billy hated to wear his blue suit. It was a cheering thought.

“Well,” Billy tried to smooth over his mistake, “anyway, you got lots of days off school.”

“Yeah, I forgot that.” Jenny brightened at that, eating two cookies happily.

“‘Course,” Billy spoiled it all a few bites later by saying with his mouth full of cookie, “betcha Sister Patience will make you do a bunch of work this summer to make up.”

“Why don’t you go home, Billy?”

Jarrod cleared his throat behind her chair, thumped her head with his folded newspaper and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Is that any way to treat a guest, Miss Barkley?”

“It’s just Billy, Daddy. You probably didn’t recognize him with his hair combed.”

“Actually, Jenny, I did recognize him. Hello, Billy.”

Jarrod sat down and helped himself to a cookie.

“Hi, ya, Mr. Barkley. Some excitement out in Sacramento this week, huh? When two of them bank robbers got shot?”

“What bank robber?” Jenny wanted to know, perking up with interest. Jarrod tried to shake his head in warning at Billy but Billy had eyes only on the exciting news he wanted to tell Jenny. Too late, Jarrod realized they should have seen this coming and told Billy to stay quiet. They’d managed to dodge most of Jenny’s questions about the gold, the robbery and the men involved while she was sick. Jarrod had planned to tell her the truth, or let Victoria do the job. He’d never expected it to come from Billy’s big mouth.

“Didn’t ya hear? The banker man we saw got shot by that one man that drove the wagon. Got shot comin’ here to the ranch to tell someone they kidnapped you and your Uncle Nick. Shot him dead.”

Jarrod saw Jenny’s face go pale, her eyes widen. “Daddy, is that true?” She turned beseeching eyes on Jarrod.

“Sure it’s true,” Billy went on not catching Jarrod’s warning eye, “then them other two got killed, the farmer looking ones. One killed the other and then the sheriff killed him. The spider man got away with all the gold and can’t nobody find him. An’ guess what, Jenny? Sheriff Madden said if they ever do catch him me an’ you will probably have to go to court and be witnesses.”

“Daddy?”

“Billy,” Jarrod interrupted, too late, “I think you’d better leave now.”

Billy looked at Jenny, noticed the anxious look in her eyes and stood up. “Um...sure, Mr. Barkley. Bye, Jenny.”

Jenny searched his face, wanting him to tell her Billy hadn’t told the truth. He couldn’t. Jarrod picked her up, sat her on his lap and pulled her tightly into a protective hug. Wishing they hadn’t kept the truth from her this long. They thought they could protect her just a little while longer before she had to know.

“Is it true, Daddy?”

“Yes, honey, it’s true.”

“I don’t want to be a witness! It’s too scary. Don’t make me, please, Daddy, please.”

“Sh, now, you don’t need to worry about that.” Jarrod laid his chin on the top of her silky hair, holding her close. “No one’s seen McGraw for weeks. We may never see him again.” Jarrod held onto the hope that a convenient bounty hunter would make short work of McGraw in some Mexican town. Once he’d told Heath he was no saint. He wasn’t. He was human enough to wish the man a sudden end to spare Jenny the ordeal of another trial.

“Hey, now, don’t cry.”

“I don’t like to think about it. The banker man, he tried to help me and Uncle Nick. He tried to make the spider man let me go but they hit him. An’ then he got shot trying to come here. Why, Daddy, why? I don’t understand.”

“No one does, Jenny.” He held her and let her cry a little before he turned her to face him. “I think, Miss Jenny, that you have been up long enough for now. Why don’t you take a nap now and later I’ll bring a tray up and eat dinner with you.?”

Reluctantly, Jenny agreed. Jarrod carried her upstairs, pretending to drop her so she’d giggle. Knowing how much she enjoyed it, he held her high over the bed and let her roll out of his arms to bounce onto the mattress. They both enjoyed it all the more knowing how much Victoria disapproved.

“Grandma wouldn’t like that,” Jenny whispered as she usually did.

Jarrod leaned over to kiss the tip of her nose and whisper back, “We won’t tell her.” He worked quickly taking off her boots, plumping a pillow under her head and helping her get settled. As he went to pull the shades to darken the room, Jenny called him back to the bed. “Daddy, please sit with me till I fall asleep?”

Dutifully, pushing aside the two hours of work he meant to do before dinner, Jarrod pulled a chair up to the bed and took Jenny’s hand in his.

“Daddy, do you ever lie?” A sleepy voice asked.

“I always try to be truthful, Jenny. At times I’m not.”

“Can I ask you something, Daddy?”

Jarrod pretended to be stern, “You’re suppose to be trying to go to sleep, not chattering.”

“Please?”

He nodded, unprepared for the question she tossed at him like a lit stick of dynamite. “Why are you angry at Uncle Nick?”

Jarrod sighed, deeply. She’d make a fine lawyer one day, she knew exactly when to strike with the pivotal question. “You wouldn’t understand, honey.”

“It’s cause of me isn’t it? Because I got sick? Is it?”

“He didn’t keep you safe, Jenny. I just can’t forgive him for that. He went off hellbent as usual dragging you in to trouble. You might have died in that mine shaft or been...” Jarrod stopped, not wanting to remind her of what might have happened.

“It wasn’t Uncle Nick’s fault the bank robbers threw us in there. He tried to fight them.”

“Jenny,” Jarrod attempted to explain, “it isn’t just that. If Nick hadn’t taken you to Willoughby, you wouldn’t have even been at Mr. Ferguson’s house to be kidnapped. He didn’t think. He never thinks! If he had thought of your safety...”

Jenny interrupted, “But, Daddy...”

“Don’t be upset, honey, I want you to stop worrying about it.” He brushed the curls from her face, pulled the sheet up closer to her chin, “Try to go to sleep.”

“Daddy?”

“Yes, Jenny?” He fought to keep the impatience from sounding in his voice.

“Do you remember when we were on that picnic with Mama and Nicky? When Nicky threw my favorite doll in the river. Member I was so mad. I said I hated Nicky an’ I was gonna hate him forever. Then you told me something....remember, Daddy?”

“No, I don’t.” He lied, remembering quite well.

“Yes, you do,” Jenny insisted. “You said it’s what Grandpa always told you when you were a little boy and Uncle Nick would tease or tear up your books. Never let the sun go down on your anger. You said Nicky was my brother and he’d be my brother longer than I’d have my doll. You said that I should forgive him and not be angry because if I was angry it just hurt me. Didn’t you say that, Daddy?”

Out of the mouths of babes...

“Jenny, yes, I said it. But you aren’t a doll, you’re my daughter and Nick didn’t keep you safe.”

Jenny’s eyes brimmed with tears, “He tried, Daddy. He did everything you would do. Please stop being angry at Uncle Nick, Daddy.”

“Go to sleep,” Jarrod made his voice deliberately harsh. Unwilling to admit that Jenny had just poked a hole in the knot of anger he felt toward Nick.

“Daddy,” Jenny risked his ire by asking, “isn’t Uncle Nick your little brother like Nicky was mine?”

“Yes, Jenny, you know that!” He snapped, confused over this feeling that maybe he’d been wrong about Nick. “Go to sleep.”

Jarrod got up, put the chair back and had gotten to the door, his hand on the knob when Jenny’s voice spoke up quietly, “I wish I still had my little brother. Even if sometimes he didn’t think either.”

Overwhelmed, Jarrod leaned his head briefly against the door of Jenny’s room. Jarrod Barkley, he told himself finally, you have been an utter fool. You blame Nick for not thinking when you suffer from the same stupidity. He turned going slowly back to sit on the edge of Jenny’s bed.

“I’ve been very wrong, Jenny.”

“Couldn’t you tell Uncle Nick that?”

“I don’t know. He might not want to forgive me. I’ve treated him so badly lately. I wouldn’t blame him if he wanted to stay angry at me. I wouldn’t even know what to say to him.”

Jenny bounced up on her knees, any idea of taking a nap forgotten. “Daddy, maybe you wouldn’t have to tell him anything.”

“Then how?”

“Couldn’t you just hand him back his pocketknife and tell him he earned it?”

Jarrod laughed out loud, feeling a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Ashamed to admit that the anger he’d carried against Nick had been a heavy load. He grabbed his grinning daughter, gave her a bear hug and plopped her back against her pillows. “Go to sleep.”

“Okay,” she agreed happily, blowing a kiss as he opened the door to leave.

Jarrod stopped, his hand on the knob to turn back, “Jenny, let me know the day you hang your shingle as a lawyer.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m quitting.”

Chapter 28

Dirty darn. dirty darn. Sure didn’t take people in THAT house long to forget somebody almost died a few weeks ago. Maybe if she was THAT much trouble to everybody in that house she’d just run off somewhere. Yes, Jenny decided, she just might do that.

Sitting on the corral fence, Jenny scowled at the beautiful Saturday morning spread out in front of her. There was just enough breeze to be pleasant with a warm sun kissing the shoulders of her blue sprigged calico and hot on the top of her head. She kicked the fence with her heels, taking delight in leaving scuff marks along it’s whitewashed surface. If she was a Barkley, then the dirty darn fence belonged to her too and she’d mess it up if she wanted. Wasn’t much she could do around the ranch, THEY wouldn’t let her. Mean old grownups.

Jenny held onto the fence rail with both hands, shifting a little to get a more comfortable seat. Boy howdy, if she just had her pocketknife she’d sure carve something fine on this fence. If, she still had it. The memory of that pocketknife sure left a bitter taste in her mind.

Daddy had gone right that day to make up with Uncle Nick. Uncle Nick came later to tell her all about it and give her the pocketknife for her very own. Jenny couldn’t help gloating over it, opening and closing all four blades. Nice and shiny and sharp.

“You earned it, Jenny, climbing up to go for help.”

“I didn’t though. I got lost and got sick.” She felt obliged to say.

“You tried so it’s yours.” Uncle Nick handed it to her with a warning. “Only thing is, Jenny, don’t go slicing off any of your fingers or carving up the furniture or anything. If you do, you’ll have Pappy and Mother both screaming down our necks.”

Jenny promised happily, “I won’t, Uncle Nick.”

“Sure you will, just like I did. Probably won’t take you a week to get in trouble with it. The first week I had it, I made up this game where I drew a target on the wall and threw it. Seemed like a good idea until Mother saw it.”

“Everything seems like a good idea until your Mother yells,” Jenny agreed.

“Yeah,” Nick answered glumly back, “or your Father. Just see you don’t get in trouble with it right away. It’s probably a mistake to give you this, but a promise is a promise.”

A promise is a promise. Jenny kept hers about not getting into trouble with it that first week. Of course, she puckered her lip, Grandma wouldn’t let her have it much those first weeks. Just because she made one teeny, tiny little slit in her feather pillow. How was she suppose to know Grandma would take the dirty darn thing when she was having her bath and take it outside to beat on the clothesline? Boy howdy, you never saw a pocketknife disappear in an apron pocket so fast. Jenny let a little snicker pass her lips. Grandma sure had looked funny with all those goose feathers in her hair though.

When Grandma finally did give it back, Jenny made sure she only used it on kindling or trees or maybe a convenient part of the horse stalls. Her first few weeks of freedom after being in bed so long, she got into enough trouble even without her pocketknife. Most of it Uncle Nick’s fault.

That darned Uncle Nick. Jenny fumed, seeing the horses in the corral through a red haze. He sure had a hard time keeping quiet. Just see if she’d trust him with a secret ever again.

I never should have told him anything! Telling Daddy and Grandma the story about that darned old spoon. Grandma kind of snickered when Uncle Nick opened his big mouth at the dinner table one night, but that sure didn’t stop her getting angry over it. Jenny lifted the skirt of her dress to rub the red circles on both her knees. Dirty darn, they still hurt. Having to scrub that darned old kitchen floor on her hands and knees. As a reminder not to deceive your Grandmother. Like she needed a reminder.

All she had to do was remember that Daddy did not laugh or try to hide a smile like Aunt Audra and Uncle Heath. His brow wrinkled with vexation and he clipped off his words when he asked, “You did what?”

So then that darned old Uncle Nick had to tell the story again, laughing like a donkey, because Jenny told Daddy she’d like to take the fifth on that question. He was not amused. Wasn’t no justice in this world for kids, Jenny thought bitterly. Telling her she’d have to take her own money and buy Grandma a new spoon! It was the most awfulest idea Jenny ever heard and she sure didn’t mind telling him so. Course, he sure didn’t like that, especially when she yelled, “Guess if I ever get hung you’ll make me pay for the rope too!”

Everybody else at the table laughed except Daddy. He did not.

“Leave the table at once!” He ordered with a you better keep your mouth shut or you are in big trouble look.

Jenny didn’t have much choice except to leave. Dirty darn, she’d missed her apple pie too. Then he came to her room later for a “talking to.” For awhile, Jenny was awful sure he didn’t plan to just talk with his mouth either. He sure was furious.

Sitting quietly on her bed with her hands clenched in her lap, Jenny tried to look for a place where he’d stop yelling so she could remind him how scared he’d been when she almost died. He never stopped long enough. Her throwing the spoon in the fire just seemed to make him remember all of her “recent escapades” since she and Billy played hooky from school.

“Look how much trouble you got in just from playing hooky from school!”

“But, Daddy,” Jenny protested unwisely, "it sure wasn’t my fault the bank got robbed.”

“Jennifer, if the Willoughy Bank was going to get robbed on any day of the week, it would be the day you played hooky. You’ve got a conscience, girl! You should have used it! Right that second, you should have gone to find your Uncle Nick. Or if you couldn’t find him, you should have told Mother or Heath when you got back to the ranch! You could have told Ciego or Duke or any other adult instead of taking matters into your own inept hands. And you’d just better not ever make that mistake again. The next time something like that happens, you tell someone right away.”

“Nobody believed me when I did tell,” Jenny hurried to explain in a strained voice.

Daddy looked at her with his eyes smoldering black. Very wisely, Jenny clamped her lips together and didn’t speak another word. Breathing a sigh of relief when the “talking to” was over and he’d only bellowed ferociously with his mouth. For a few scary minutes, she’s been sure he planned to talk more with his hand than his mouth.

After that night, Jenny tried to stay out of trouble. She had too...almost. This morning was the very first day Grandma let her have the run of the whole house and yard. Right after breakfast, she’d let her lose with her pocketknife and told her to be home in time for lunch. Just like Saturdays before she got sick. Jenny hadn’t wasted a second trying out her pocketknife in several discreet places around the house and yard.

Daddy came home for lunch. He’d seemed happy enough while they ate but Jenny knew it wouldn’t last. Not once he went into the study to do some work on his desk. Earlier, she’d spread a newspaper in a strategic place but sooner or later he’d move it.

“Jennifer Victoria Barkley! Get in here!”

Dirty darn. Sure hadn’t expected him to find it before she finished her pudding. “Oh, dirty darn.”

“Jenny,” Grandma asked from the other end of the table where she was finishing her own lunch, “did you do something you’re going to regret?”

“Probably,” Jenny admitted glumly. It had sounded like a good idea...until her Father yelled.

“Jennifer!”

“What is that?” He pointed when Jenny walked anxiously into the study. Jenny looked at her handiwork with her hands behind her back. What a fuss over nothing. Three tiny little initials in that smooth expanse of wood. Well, the initials and a few gouge marks where her hand kept slipping. “How did this happen?”

Jenny swallowed past a hard lump in her throat. “I don’t know. Maybe it was magic, Daddy. I just saw the knife in my hand an’ then the desk and somehow, before I could stop, there was JVB.”

“Give it to me.” When she didn’t hand it over fast enough, his face got red, his nostrils flared and the veins in his neck throbbed, “NOW!”

Sadly, Jenny took the pocketknife from her pocket, slid her feet over the carpet and stretched out her arm just enough to drop it in his upheld palm. Dirty darn, she didn’t plan to get too close to him.

“I didn’t mean to, Daddy,” Jenny began to explain.

“Go! Just go before I get very, very angry!”

Jenny went hoping he wouldn’t find her other handiwork for awhile. On the way back outside, she’d managed to run into a riled Uncle Heath who’d told her three times that morning to bring some rope out to where he and Uncle Nick were digging fence posts and pulling up tree stumps. It would have been an easy walk and Dr. Merar told her to get lots of exercise.

“I forgot, Uncle Heath.”

“You forgot!” He shouted, “And I had to waste time riding back to get the rope! And you better stay out of Nick’s way too. He told you to tell Jack to bring us some lunch about 11:30. Ya’ didn’t so we had to ride all the way to the house! He’s madder than a bull seein’ red.”

Dirty darn. Boy, they sure couldn’t wait for her to get well so they could all order her around again. Jenny hadn’t waited for a scolding from Uncle Nick too. As soon as Uncle Heath tied Charger to a hitching post and went inside, Jenny took off for the corral fence where she could take out her mad kicking the rails. Just see if she ever went back to THAT family again.

A rider came in the gate, coming toward her. Jenny watched as Billy rode closer pulling Pancho to a stop beside her. “Hi, ya, Barkley. Whatcha doing?”

“Digging a hole to China, Billy,” Jenny told him rolling her eyes.

“Really?” His eyes widened in surprise, “Can I help?”

“Billy, you are so dumb.”

Billy jumped out of the saddle to climb beside her on the fence. “You wanna go for a ride?”

Oh, that rankled. “I’m not allowed to have my pony back yet. Daddy said.” Pout, pout, pout...Jenny kicked harder.

“Oh.” Billy stared around, asking hopefully, “Is Mr. Silas baking today? He usually makes cookies on Saturday, don’t he?”

“Forget it, Billy. He’s mad at me.”

Billy wanted to know why so Jenny had to tell him about using the pocketknife on the clothesline. “How was I ‘spose to know he’d got outside to hang up all those white dish clothes an it would break and dump them all in the dirt? How was I spose to know that? I only cut one little teeny, tiny slit.”

“Yeah, clotheslines are sneaky.”

They sat on the fence awhile, sympathizing with one another over other clothesline mishaps. “There goes your Uncle Heath,” Billy remarked, watching as Heath came out of the horse to leap up on Charger. “Hey! Something’s the matter with his stirrup! Did ja see that, Jenny, how his foot slipped down? It must have broke or something.”

“Or something,” Jenny whispered half to Billy. Earlier that morning, right before Uncle Heath left, she’d just used her pocketknife to see if it cut leather. It was such a teeny, tiny little slit. It hadn’t broken when he rode out this morning.

“Jenny!” Uncle Heath shouted, knowing exactly who was to blame.

“Oh, dirty darn. Come on, Billy, let’s go!”

Billy followed her example as she jumped off the corral fence, hoping they could get away before Uncle Heath saw them. “Where?”

Before she could tell him, they heard a shriek from the house. “Mother!”

“Whatcha do to your Aunt Audra?”

“Nothing. Well, maybe I just cut a little of the bristles out of her hairbrush. She acts like I murdered her or something. They weren’t all gone...just most of them.”

Billy shrugged. “Grownups sure are dumb sometimes.”

“Jennifer Victoria Barkley! This is the last straw! Get in this house this instant!”

“Boy howdy, your Pa sure is sounding more like your Uncle Nick. What did you do to him?”

“He must have found the other initials I carved in his desk. Or maybe the box of cigars I slit open. I only cut open twenty or thirty...he’s got five whole ones left.”

“Jennifer!”

Oh, dirty darn. Jenny grabbed Billy’s arm, hurrying him down the road away from the house. “Come on, Billy, we better go dig that hole to China. Right now!”

THE END