When Jarrod Met Molly

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.

“Children, your attention, please,” Miss Simon said that bright October morning standing before the classroom. “We have a new student with us today. I’d like you all to say hello to Molly Richards.”

A chorus of “Hello, Molly” filled the room. Jarrod Barkley, sitting in the back of the room as befitted one of the older boys in class, saw his brother, Nick, lean in to whisper something that drew a discreet laugh from his unruly friend, Howe Tucker. Howe was known to bedevil new students, especially little girls with everything from putting garter snakes in their lunch pails to dipping their braids in ink wells. The little girl standing beside Miss Simon, eyes downcast to avoid looking at her classmates, didn’t look equal to Howe’s tricks. A strawberry blonde with two tiny braids tied in green ribbon bows, a scattering of cinnamon flake freckles across her pert nose and a shy, half smile marked her in Jarrod’s mind as perfect tormenting bait for Howe. He’d have to keep an eye on Howe today and Nick. While Nick knew better than to participate in Howe’s schemes himself, he liked to pretend he would. Nick’s silent consent usually egged Howe onto higher feats of mischief.

“Molly has a big sister, Josie and a brother, Burt, who will be your new classmates too. They have been quarantined at their old home in Kansas City due to illness but will arrive soon.” The teacher laid a comforting hand on the shoulder of the little girl’s green print dress. “Molly, why don’t you sit next to Susie Miller here in the front row. Your mother’s note tells me you are already in the First Reader.”

Miss Simon, who’d often been accused of having eyes in the back of her head, snapped around from settling Molly beside Susie. “Nicholas Barkley! I want that pea shooter and those pebbles on my desk at once!”

Sheepishly, Nick got up from his desk, walked to Miss Simon desk and laid his pea shooter down. From the back of the room, Jarrod gave him a dark scowl. Wait until Father heard about that. Nick had been warned twice this week already about that pea shooter.

“You might take Molly as a lesson, Nicholas. Not quite six years old and already in the First Reader. If you would apply yourself instead of making mischief, perhaps you’d be able to move past the Third in time to catch up with your classmates.”

Nick flushed under that barb, knowing as he did that his lagging behind in reading was a sore subject at home and at school. Flinging himself down in his desk, he scowled in the general direction of the new pupil. A teacher’s pet already! Carrot topped teachers’ pet! As Miss Simon called the class to order for the day, Nick studiously took out his slate, a dark frown on his face.

Nick studied the little girl in the front row. If he could just think of which animal she reminded him of, he could draw a silly picture on his slate. A mouse? A kitten? Naw. A goat! He’d draw her as a baby nanny goat with those two stubby braids sticking up like horns. Nick chocked on a strangled laugh. Wait’ll he showed this to Howe. Nick wouldn’t like word to get out, it might ruin his reputation, but he was too tender hearted to follow most of Howe’s teasing. Often, what Miss Simon thought was prank playing Nick Barkley putting a snake into a lunch pail was actually Nick taking one out.

From the back of the room, Jarrod watched his brother with suspicion. Nick was up to something. He knew his brother too well. Whether it was revenge at Miss Simon for shaming him about his struggles with reading, a plot to taunt Eugene at noon or a scheme for Jarrod knew not what, Nick was doing something he shouldn’t. Jarrod looked at the clock. Three hours until noon. He sighed, whatever Nick was up to, he’d have to wait until then to find out.

Absorbed in reading about ancient Rome, Jarrod became aware of a quiet, controlled buzz of snickering and whispering. It took him a startled moment to come back from his book. Eyes narrowed in annoyance, he lifted his head to look around the room. Eugene, near the front with the little students, was giggling and pointing to the new girl, Molly. Jarrod frowned, trying to catch Eugene’s eye. It wasn’t like Eugene to tease anyone. Why was he laughing?

Nick shook so hard with silent laughter he sat doubled up in his desk. Beside him Howe didn’t try to disguise his glee at the little girl’s obviously shaking shoulders, her discreet little sobs. Hand over his mouth, he snorted so loudly Miss Simon looked up from helping Audra work sums at her desk.

“That is enough!” Miss Simon rapped her ruler on the desk for order. “Stop at once!”

She stood up, staring with menace at the giggling, snickering pupils as she walked toward Molly Richards in the front room. Still puzzled, Jarrod studied the little girl wondering what happened to make everyone laugh at her. Miss Simon knelt beside the child, talking quietly to her as the little girl bowed her head in shame. It didn’t take Jarrod long to notice the puddle under Molly’s desk and realize what had occurred.

“Sally Anne,” Miss Simon spoke to one of the older girls, “would you please go get a mop and clean up this spill?”

Holding out her hand to Molly, Miss Simon led her down between the rows of seats into the cloakroom at the back of the classroom. Silent tears steamed down the little girl’s face as she passed Jarrod’s desk. He felt sympathy for her, remembering the indignities of his own first day of school. He’d been so scared and excited he cried to go home. The teacher had finally had to send home for Mother.

Nick, egged on by Howe, began to laugh and slap his desk. Jarrod glared at the back of his brother’s head. Just wait till he got Nick alone and reminded him about his own first day of school. Nick didn’t like to be reminded that he’d eaten everything in his lunch pail on the way into school and lost it all over his desk when the teacher asked him to spell his name.

The cloakroom door opened. “Jarrod,” Miss Simon motioned him to come, “would you please come here?”

Modesty decreed that one of the older girls should handle this situation, but Molly would have to be driven home. The only student Miss Simon considered trustworthy enough to handle the task was Jarrod Barkley. He could be depended upon to take her home and back without any shenanigans along the way.

Jarrod got up wondering why he was being summoned. Miss Simon didn’t leave him long to wonder. Closing the door behind him, she said, “Jarrod, Molly needs to be taken home to change her clothes. Her family has moved into the old Burnett place so you’ll have to hitch up my buggy and drive her home. You can wait for her and bring her back to school.”


Jarrod blushed a thousand shades of crimson. Take her home? Wait for her? Would he have to explain to her mother too? If she were Audra, he could tell his mother, but a strange woman? The whole situation was fraught with embarrassment. What if one of Mother’s friends saw him driving the little girl home and asked why? How could he explain? “Yes, ma’am . . . but, Miss Simon . . . ” Jarrod stuttered his discomfort at being chosen for this chore. What had he done to make Miss Simon torture him like this? “What’ll I say? I mean . . . ”

“I’ll write a note for you to take to Mrs. Richards,” Miss Simon said, noticing his distress. “Go hitch up my buggy and it will be written when you’re finished.”

Sighing, but only to himself, Jarrod went to do as the teacher had bidden. As he backed Old Mag into the buggy shafts, he let a few irritated thoughts cross him mind. Dumb little kid! Why didn’t she ask where the outhouse was before she came into school? Why didn’t she whisper to Susie Miller what she needed? Or ask Miss Simon?

By the time he’d hitched the horse, brought the buggy to the front of the school and been handed the note by Miss Simon, he’d calmed his face to appear cool and obedient. Feeling guilty for his angry feelings when he saw the flaming cheeks of the little girl as she slumped on a bench by the door. He felt bad for her then. She was young, but old enough to have that laughter hurt. As Miss Simon helped her into the buggy, she refused to meet Jarrod’s eyes or the teachers’.

“It’s all right, dear,” Miss Simon tried to comfort the child with a pat on the knee and kind words, “it could happen to anyone.”

The little girl didn’t answer. Jarrod slapped the reins to get Old Mag moving toward Molly’s house. He felt uncomfortable with her sitting silently beside him, with just an occasional sniff or a timid swipe across her face as she brushed away tears. He searched his mind for some cheerful words to say but could think of nothing past, “Pretty day, isn’t it?” When she answered with a hiccup sob, he stopped trying. They rode the rest of the way in silence.

Jarrod jumped out of the wagon wishing, he was Old Mag. She got to stay outside while he had to summon his courage to walk up on the Richards’ porch and knock on the door. He was up two steps of the porch steps before he realized the little girl hadn’t gotten out of the buggy. “C’mon, Molly,” he called impatiently. Girls!

Her little lip puckered as she looked sadly at him. For the first time, Jarrod saw her eyes were blue, bright blue like a bluejay’s feathers. They filled with unshed tears as she got slowly out of the buggy, climbed the porch and rapped on the door.

Mrs. Richards answered the door, stared from Jarrod to Molly with a puzzled look on her face before asking, “What’s this? Molly, are you ill?”
Jarrod shuffled uneasily from foot to foot. “Um, no, ma’am. Miss Simon sent her home with this note.” Mrs. Richards took the note, read it with a look of growing annoyance on her face. The fierce glare she directed at the little girl cowed even Jarrod. It was a shock when she put on a pleasant smile, held the door open for Jarrod and directed him to wait in the parlor. She apologized, a little flustered, that things weren’t quite tidy yet since they had just moved in a few days before. Uncomfortably, Jarrod allowed himself to be led into the parlor and motioned to a seat on a horsehair sofa. He sat on the edge so the prickly fabric wouldn’t poke his back while Mrs. Richards let Molly into another room.

“For shame!” Jarrod jumped when Mrs. Richards began to berate her daughter in another room in a voice loud enough to call hogs two counties over. “A big girl like you, Molly Elizabeth! Disgracing yourself at your new school on your first day!”

A smacking sound followed. Jarrod winced in sympathy for the little girl. It sounded like it hurt.

“You stiffen that lip, Missy!” Mrs. Richards scolding went on, “You cry and I’ll give you something to cry about! A big girl like you!”

That’s unfair, Jarrod argued silently with Molly’s mother. You already gave her something to cry about. He felt ill at ease eavesdropping on what should be a private reprimand. His thoughts turned in gratitude to his own parents. Father and Mother were strict about many things, but they never punished any of their children for accidents. Jarrod couldn’t imagine Mother lacing down Audra over a similar situation. Even last week, when he’d tripped carrying a berry pie from the kitchen to the table for Mother and the pie landed upside down in Father’s plate, Jarrod hadn’t been punished. Mother rolled her eyes and groaned a little but she didn’t scold. Then when Father looked at Jarrod with a droll expression and said, “I didn’t want quite that big a piece of pie, Jarrod,” everyone laughed. He felt sorry for Molly, having a Mother who probably couldn’t laugh over a spilled pie or a puddle.

“Here she is,” Mrs. Richards smiled pleasantly at Jarrod as she dragged Molly back into the parlor holding tight to her wrist. Jarrod got to his feet in haste. Molly’s green print dress had been changed to a pink and white striped dress. “I do thank you for your courtesy in bringing her home. Hopefully,” she took that moment to squeeze Molly’s hand and give her a stern glance, “we won’t have this happen again.”

“Yes, Ma’am. No Ma’am.” Jarrod answered hoping to get away as quickly as possible.

He didn’t realize he’d been sweating until he and Molly were in the buggy back on the way to school. Rubbing his damp forehead, he also noticed he’d been almost holding his breath in the Richard’s house. He sure was glad to be out of there!

The nearer he came to school, the deep his breathing became. Soon, soon he’d be rid of this pesky little girl and back in his book about the ancient Romans. He thought wistfully of those Romans. All they had to worry about was getting trampled in a chariot race or thrown to the lions. Life sure was a lot less dangerous then. Probably not a one of ‘em ever had to drive a damp little girl home and listen to her Mother tan her bottom. His face blushed just remembering.

They were only a few minutes away from school when Jarrod heard a sob, a sniff and then the little girl burst into heartrending tears. Jarrod sighed in exasperation. Wasn’t that all he needed today? A little girl crying heart out? Weary of this whole business, Jarrod pulled back on the reins and stopped Old Mag. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.

“Thank you,” she wept inconsolably. “I don’t want to go back to school! Everyone will laugh at me!”

Jarrod, who knew that was a real possibility sought to comfort her as he would Audra. “They just better not! If they do . . . ” He made a funny, fierce face at her, “I’ll just have to punch ‘em all in the nose!”

Through her tears, Molly gave him a quivering, half smile. Jarrod made some more faces. More dire threats about what he’d do to anyone who laughed and tickled her a little under her chin. Pretty soon, he coaxed one brief smile from her pink lips. By the time he’d promised to treat her to a peppermint stick after school and driven the rest of the way, she’s used his handkerchief to wipe the tears from her cheeks and notice the monogram in the corner.

“Is that you? J.T.B?”

Helping her out of the buggy, he smiled. “That’s me, Jarrod Thomas Barkley.”

“My name . . . ” She ducked her head shyly, toeing some dirt with the tip of her shoes, “My name is really Molly Elizabeth Richards.” Embarrassed that she’d confided this much to him, Molly turned and ran toward the school. Stopping to look back for just a second she whispered loud enough for him to hear, “I like you.”


Miss Simon must have warned the class there would be no repercussions from Molly’s reappearance. When she came in and sat down, Miss Simon smiled. The rest of the class, Jarrod was happy to notice, appeared to be deep in study. Jarrod sat down, picked up his book on the ancient Romans with no thought other than finishing the chapter he’d been assigned. He’d only been reading a few minutes when Chet Mains, who sat in front of him, slid a piece of tablet paper on his desk. Jarrod opened it.

“Jarrod has a sweathart.” Nick had written. He’d also drawn a heart, stabbed with a deadly looking spear that dripped blood, and written “Jarrod Loves Molee” inside.

Taking up his pencil, Jarrod wrote on the other side. “Nick, learn to spell. You’d better not tease me or MOLLY or Father will find out about someone smoking corn stalks behind the barn last week. No, I correct that. Father will know that it was you and Howe. If you value your ability to sit this weekend, I’m sure you will do the right thing. Your loving brother, Jarrod.” He folded it, passed it through Chet and waited until Nick had read it and turned around with a pleading expression on his face. Just to make sure he had Nick’s full attention, Jarrod stared with his sternest big brother face. Nick crossed his heart, made begging motions and pretended to draw a halo around his head. Jarrod glowered at him. He lowered his head and read three more sentences before he looked up to see Nick holding up his slate, erasing the caricature he’d drawn of Molly as a nanny goat. Jarrod appeared to relent, frowned just to make sure Nick was sincere and then gave him an approving smile. It was hard not to laugh at Nick’s almost audible sigh of relief.

No need to tell Nick Father already knew about the corn stalks and didn’t intend to punish him. After Jarrod told Father about Nick and Howe being sick the rest of the afternoon, he’d said it seemed they’d already punished themselves well enough. Jarrod went back to the ancient Romans, satisfied with his ability to set Nick in line. Howe too. Once Nick got finished telling him about Jarrod’s threats, Molly wouldn’t have to worry about being teased by either of those two. Jarrod looked at the back of her strawberry blond head for just a minute. Pesky little kid. Cute, but pesky.

Molly felt in her pocket for the handkerchief. Running her finger over the stitches, she traced out each letter. J. T. B. Mama would say she should wash out the handkerchief and return it. That was the proper thing for a young lady to do. Molly had no intention of being proper. When she got home, she was going to hide it somewhere Mama would never find it. She was going to keep it forever and ever.

Turning her head, Molly stole a quick peek back at Jarrod Barkley studying his book. Her little heart beat like rain on a roof. He was so handsome. Someday, Molly decided, turning around and opening her blue backed speller as Miss Simons commanded, I’m going to marry that Jarrod Barkley. Just see if I don’t.

THE END