The Initiation

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.

"Will you hurry, Nick? " Jarrod prodded in an irritated voice. Stopping a few paces before his little brother, he glanced backward, fuming inside.

Why today? Why did Mother have to insist I drag Nick along? She could pick any day of the week to visit Mrs. Mills, but she has to pick the one day I don’t want to be bothered. It’s not fair! Wasn’t the whole point of belonging to a secret club being able to get away from pesky, tagalong brothers? He’d rather lug a submarine around on his back than be saddled with a whiney little kid. Well, Jarrod thought in some satisfaction, tapping his boot tip in impatience while he waited for Nick to catch up, everything that happened to Nick today would serve him right! Just wait till they got to the secret meeting place!

"Hurry up, Nick!"

"Comin’, Jarrod," Nick panted as he struggled up the path with a firm determination NOT to fall.

As part of being allowed to follow Jarrod and meet with the big boys, he’d agreed to carry all their "supplies." His back ached with the weight of two knapsacks filled with rocks. Jarrod had assured him all the boys had to do this as part of their "isheation" whatever that was. It was to test his strength. Nick thought if he lived long enough to get to the secret meeting place, he’d be as strong as Atlas.

A large picnic basket pulled down his left side as he clutched the handle so hard it bit into his palm. Mr. Silas had packed a special lunch. Nick made up his mind when they left the house he wouldn’t drop that. It had chocolate cake inside. Picnic basket in one hand, two fishing poles that threatened to trip him at every step in the other hand, he struggled on bravely, his heart light.

He was with the person he most wanted to be with in all the world. Even without the chocolate cake today would have been a red letter day on Nick's calendar.

Today I’m gonna join Jarrod’s secret club. He said so. Then I’ll be just like Jarrod.

Six year old Nick admired his brother more than anyone else he could name. Maybe even more than his father. He couldn’t wait until he was as old as Jarrod so they could be better friends.

"If the other guys are mad because we’re late," Jarrod said in dire warning, an angry scowl darkening his usual sunny expression, "they won’t blame me."

Nick tripped over a fishing pole, righted himself and shifted the load of rock filled knapsacks on his back. "So...sorr..sorry, Jarrod."

"Just come on!"

"Jarrod?"

"What!"

"Could we go over the secret words again? Cause I keep forgetting which one I use..."

"Shshhh!" Jarrod hissed, clamping a hand hard over Nick’s mouth. Leaning close to his ear, his breath hot on Nick’s cheek, he whispered, "You don’t ever say ANY of the secret words out loud "

Glaring with forbidding blue eyes, nose to nose he spoke in a spectral voice, "or you know what happens."

Nick gulped, and nodded, his eyes huge with fright. Jarrod had told him last night when he’d given him the exciting news about joining the club. If I say the secret words out loud, the buzzards will bite my tongue in half, and the vultures will nibble what they spit out. And I’m never, ever to tell Mother or Father or anyone that I belong to a secret club.

"But," Jarrod spoke in his normal voice, backing away and glancing furtively around, "since nobody else is here we might as well practice. I don’t want the other guys to think I taught you wrong. Okay, what’s the secret password we use when we see another one of the fellows on the street and want to call a secret meeting?"

Nick bit his lip, furrowed his brow and thought. He knew this, he did! Hadn’t he lain awake most of last night going over and over and over all the secret words? "Um...it’s...is it walrus?"

"No! No! No! That’s the word you say when therein ’s a grownup coming and we have to run."

"Oh, yeah. Um...I know it Jarrod..Ido."

"Then tell me."

"It’s the color one!" Nick remembered, beaming his delight at Jarrod.

Jarrod rolled his eyes and threw up his hands. Mother, Mother , how could you do this to me? Why couldn’t you take him along and let him pester you? "No, it is NOT. Think, Nick, think!"

"I am," tears swam in Nick’s eyes. He wanted so much to please Jarrod, but the words were hard.

"Think, Nick, you see one of the guys on the street and want to call a secret meeting." Jarrod, feeling a little guilty for the tears slowly filling Nick’s eyes, encouraged him. He’s got to know the words, or the guys will think I didn’t teach him right. "You know it. Think...who’s the Chinese man who does the laundry at Mr. Wong’s Laundry?"

"Sushi! It’s Sushi!"

Jarrod clapped Nick on the back, a dangerous movement that caused the load of picnic basket and knapsacks to shift forward. Right before Nick’s nose touched dirt, Jarrod grabbed him and righted the little boy. "See, I knew you could do it," he smiled. tingled with delight to his toes. ’s pleased I got the right answer. Maybe he isn’t angry Mother made him take me along. I sure want to belong to his secret club. Hope I still know the right answers when we get to the secret meeting place.

When they entered a small glade after cutting through a heavy stand of saplings, Nick could see three other boys waiting for them. Chet Hammond, Bradley Sims–before he belonged to the secret club, Jarrod always called him, "Sissy Sims ," and a tougher, older boy Nick knew only by sight. "Long Legs " Zachary. A lump of fear threatened to cut off Nick’s air, as Long Legs glared at him with mean, coyote eyes. Nick had heard rumors about Long Legs ,enough to give him nightmares.

"Oscar." Jarrod said in a hushed whisper as they stopped in front of the boys.

"Wilde," Chet answered.

"Oscar," Bradley repeated turning to Long Legs.

Long Legs growled, "Wilde."

Nick stood in a frightened silence until Jarrod’s nudge brought him back to the task at hand. The secret greeting. Which do I say? Oscar or Wilde? What did Jarrod say happens if there aren’t an even number of boys? Trembling, Nick chose the only answer he could think of, "Os..oscar...wilde?" He glanced quickly at Jarrod’s face to see if he’d done it right. Jarrod, tightlipped and straight faced gave him a slight nod. I did it right!

"So, Barkley," Long Legs motioned toward Nick with a sneering smile on his face, "is your itty brother ready to face the cave challenge?"

Nick shuddered. Jarrod had explained in lurid detail what happened in the cave. Even told him what happened if you failed the test.

"You’re left alone in the dark forever," Jarrod painted a vivid, ghastly picture, "alone except for the cave echoes whispering, whispering...grisly, gruesome cadavers and worms. Gristly, gruesome cadavers and worms.

Nick barely knew what any of the words meant except worms. Even so, the way Jarrod said the words was enough to make his blood run cold and his legs wobble. Nick imagined it was spooky enough being said by a brother with apple pie crumbs around his mouth and a blob of manure stuck to his boots. Being alone in a dark cave while the cave echoes whispered was probably enough to kill you on the spot.

"Ask him," Jarrod left the decision up to Nick. He’s scared of the dark. He won’t go in the cave, and I can take him home. End of him joining the club.

"You ready?"

"Yes?" Nick spoke softly, unsure about this whole business. Jarrod helped him take off the knapsacks and set down the fishing poles and picnic basket. Even gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. When Nick stood rooted to the spot, Jarrod shoved him forward with a warning hiss, "Don’t be a baby."

He wasn’t.

Chet led him into the dark cave and left him alone in the enormous, empty blackness. Trembling violently, Nick wrung his hands together and hoped it would be over soon. He thought about what Jarrod had told him last night. They’d leave him alone long enough to be scared, listening to the steady dripping of water from somewhere and smelling the foul, closed in odor of damp earth. He had to wait for the whispered question that would come when he least expected it.

Nick’s heart thumped so loudly he hoped he could hear. Sweat trickled down his back even though cold fingers of air kept brushing across his face. He was hot, then cold. Shaking, then brave.

I know the answer. I know the answer.

Footsteps.

Crunch of gravel underfoot.

Is that a CAVE ECHO??? Mother! Mother! I don’t want to belong to this club! I’m scared...I...

A voice. Yes. The question, hissed like a hidden snake coiled and waiting, "What color did the ogre’s face turn when it swallowed the boy in the cave?"

"PUCE!" Nick yelled. "PUCE!"

After that victory, Nick thought the rest of the initiation wasn’t bad at all. Walking beside Jarrod on the way home, smelly but triumphant, he relived the whole exciting afternoon over again.

Hadn’t it been thrilling to go running over to Mr. Simmons place and sneak around behind his back to get into his pig barn? Of course, Nick had to admit to himself he’d almost cried when the other boys shoved him into the manure pile and made him roll over five times to get good and gooshy. Nick didn’t so much mind cow or horse manure, but pigs now...they were a different animal. When he got through rolling, he was so covered in yucky muck, none of the tears on his cheeks showed.

"You stink," Jarrod turned around to shout down the path. "Good thing Mother won’t be back until later today. We’ll toss you in the creek after we go home to get you some clean clothes."

Nick nodded happily. For once he’d be glad to have a bath and clean clothes. He was smelly, sticky and the feathers were beginning to prickle his face. Every few feet he stopped to sneeze as one wafted toward his nose.

"I feel like a chicken, Jarrod."

"You didn’t act like one, Nick," Jarrod tossed the praise over his shoulder, keeping the scent of Nick downwind. "I’m real proud of you."

"Really? You’re proud of me?"

Jarrod nodded. "I never thought you’d do it. Especially when Long Legs poured all that molasses over your head."

"It kinda made the manure smell better," Nick admitted. He hadn’t liked the way Long Legs brayed as he dumped a keg of molasses over his head, but the admiration in Jarrod’s eyes more than made up for wearing it. Nick would be gladder to get the molasses off than the manure. As it dried, it hardened and made walking a chore. Each time he took a step, he had to pull his stockinged feet off another hazard. Jarrod had insisted he take off his shoes before the molasses pouring so they wouldn’t get ruined. Nick thought it was very smart of Jarrod to remember how Father was always shouting about how shoes didn't grow on trees. But while Nick trusted Jarrod’s judgment in all things, he couldn’t help be a little miffed at walking home in socks . The molasses he’d stepped in picked up a fine collection of small twigs, rocks and dirt. It sure made walking tiresome. And painful. !

"Nick, I’m real sorry about the feathers. That was Chet’s idea, "Jarrod offered by way of an apology. "Anybody would have cried."

"Really, Jarrod? You didn’t think I was a baby?"

"No," Jarrod lied. Crying during an initiation usually meant you were out of the club right then. Jarrod knew the boys had only accepted Nick, bawling and all, because of Mr. Silas’ picnic basket. You have to give the little guy some credit for threatening to take it home with him. Maybe Nick wasn’t so dumb after all.

"Thanks, Jarrod. I don’t want you to think I’m a crybaby or anything."

After his apology, Jarrod turned his back to Nick so he wouldn't see the chuckles he his older brother was trying to hide. He does look like a chicken! All those feathers stuck in his hair and on his shirt and pants! Chet shouldn’t have done it, but I have to admit, Nick took it better than I expected. If it hadn’t surprised him, he probably wouldn’t have started bawling like he did. He’s a spunky little guy. Maybe...maybe I should try to let him tag along more often. Jarrod turned around for another quick glance at Nick. Snickering to himself, he put a hand over his lips so Nick wouldn’t see. A big, chicken who smells like a manure pile. Sure is a good thing Mother won’t see him like that.

"Let’s hurry, Nick. We need to get you cleaned up before Mother gets home." He planned to sneak past Silas and find Nick some clean clothes, then take him down to the creek and wash off most of the muck. They'd bury Nick's clothes somewhere and hope Mother didn't notice.

Jarrod’s plans were dashed seconds after he’d rounded the barn and seen their mother’s buggy sitting near the door. She’s home! She can’t be home already! What am I going to do?

Two minutes later, as they bumped into their mother bent over picking up a package she’d dropped, Jarrod realized he need not have worried. No plans were necessary. Not after Mother got one good look at Nick, dripping with manure and molasses and all stuck over with chicken feathers.

"Nicholas Barkley! What has happened to you?" Victoria shrieked and clutched her heart at the sight of her youngest son, what she could see of him that wasn’t covered with feathers. "How on earth did you get those feathers? And you smell like...." She sniffed, was sorry she had, and backed away.

"Pig manure," Jarrod admitted glumly. "Or molasses. Black strap."

"Jarrod Thomas Barkley! What have you done to your brother?"

"Um..."

Nick, with the curse of what happened to boys who told about the secret club, lingering in his mind, stuttered an explanation, "It’s... my fault...Mother. We were just messing around. I...I feel in something."

"OH! But how on earth did you...." Victoria threw up her hands, "Never mind, I don’t want to know! If the two of you don’t drive me into a lunatic asylum before you’re grown, it will only be Divine Providence that keeps me out."

Jarrod toed the ground, unsure just what that was suppose to mean. Looking at the ground an avoiding his mother’s eyes, he waited to hear just what punishment awaited. "I’m sorry, Mother," he muttered, hoping he could soothe her a little. "It wasn’t Nick’s fault."

"I don’t want to hear it!"

This was bad, when she didn’t even want an explanation.

"You, young man," Victoria pointed at Jarrod with the stern look that usually preceded the command to go fetch her wooden spoon, "I want you to take your brother to the barn and get those filthy clothes off him! Then you scrape everything else off that you can! After that you get Silas to help you warm water for a bath and you scrub him until he’s clean! Do you understand me, Jarrod Thomas? I want him so clean he squeaks!"

Relieved to have the dreaded spoon fading from the immediate future, Jarrod was quick to nod his head in willing agreement. "Yes, Mother, I will. He’ll be so clean you won’t know him."

"I’ll know him," Victoria predicted dryly, shaking her head at the two of them. Boys! Manure and feathers! What next? "Even without the chicken feathers I could recognize every mischievous inch of him! Now march!"

Jarrod rushed Nick toward the barn, smiling and waving at his mother who glared at them to make sure they obeyed. When they were inside, away from the forbidding figure, Jarrod leaned toward Nick and whispered, "What color did the ogre’s face turn when she ordered the boys to the barn?"

Nick stopped, swiped his nose with a dirty, sticky hand and stared at Jarrod in amazement. He? How dare he? Was Jarrod calling MOTHER an ogre? Jarrod, the brother, that his Mother and Father were always telling him to be more like? He WAS! Jarrod's blue eyes gleamed with secret amusement, his naughty smile drawing Nick into a brotherly camaraderie against their mother.

Looking over his shoulder to be certain Mother hadn’t followed them, Nick snickered back in wicked delight, "Puce. The ogre's face was puce."

THE END