Keeping Faith

Parts 31-35

by MrsNickB

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.

Part 31

Mildred Parker had worked for the Barkley and Holister Law Office for the better part of a year. She had been hired by Jarrod Barkley's wife, C. B. Holister. Mildred had admired Carol Holister-Barkley from the first time they had met at the Stockton Women's Literary Guild. The Guild had met once every two weeks at the Stockton Library. In truth, the Literary Guild was a way for like-minded women to meet and talk about their political ambitions, which consisted mainly of pursuing women's rights to vote. Although the Women's Literary Guild was started by Laura Barkley and Dora Hamon, it was soon taken over by the very eager lady lawyer. Laura was only too happy to turn over control of the meetings to her sister-in-law since Nick had been suspicious about the true reasons for the clandestine meetings. At that time, Nick had been drinking heavily, and Laura was fearful of leaving him alone while she conducted the meetings.

Since Carol Barkley's death the meetings had been temporarily suspended. Mildred knew many of the women members were anxious to start up again, but with Laura Barkley ill and Hope Barkley busy with her new twins, there wasn't anyone willing to step into C.B. Holister-Barkley's shoes as yet.

Mildred was busy gathering her work to bring home when the door to the Barkley Law Office opened. The secretary smiled when she saw the woman doctor standing before her. She wondered if anyone had spoken to her about the Literary Guild.

"May I help you?" Mildred asked pleasantly.

"I'm Doctor James."

"Yes, Doctor, I know who you are."

"I received a note from Mister Barkley asking me to meet him here."

"Oh yes, of course. I'm sorry he's not here." Mildred smiled, then continued to pack her small satchel with several files that had littered her desk. She then covered her typewriter with its canvas wrap and addressed the woman again. "Mr. Barkley went with Sheriff Madden to the jail. I'm sorry if you were supposed to meet him here. He didn't inform me about it. Possibly it slipped his mind."

"Possibly. Well, I suppose I will meet him at the sheriff's office then. Good day, Miss?"

"Parker, Millie Parker." She extended her hand to the woman. "Is Mrs. Barkley well? I heard you were caring for her."

"She's coming along."

"Please tell Laura I was asking about her, and say we all miss her at the Literary Guild meetings."

"Literary Guild meetings?"

"Yes, we have the meetings at the Stockton Library every two weeks. You might inquire about them to either Laura or Hope Barkley. They'll tell you more about them if you like."

"That's very kind of you, Miss Parker, but I'm afraid I don't have much time for Literature clubs at the moment. I have a hard enough time just keeping caught up on my medical journals. I do thank you for your invitation though."

"Still, Ma'am, you might want to ask Mrs. Barkley when you see her next, but please do so when that dreadful husband of hers isn't around."

"Dreadful husband? I assume you're speaking of Nick Barkley, not Heath?"

"Most certainly, Nick Barkley." The secretary shook her head with a tsk then closed her satchel with a snap. She pulled her hat from the coat rack and wrapped a light shawl around herself. "I'll walk you out. I have to lock up the office."

"Very well."

"I would walk you to the jail, but my home is in the opposite direction," Mildred said as she pulled the door shut and secured the lock.

"That's perfectly alright. I can find my own way there." The two women nodded pleasantly to each other then went their separate ways.

* * * * * * * *

Jarrod pushed his hat back on his head, then placed his hands on his belt while he impatiently watched the sheriff find the jail keys in his desk drawer. Jarrod sighed and let a crooked smile grace his face. "If I didn't know better, Fred, I would say you were stalling. We are here to see my client, are we not?"

"Yes, but-. There's something you gotta understand, Jarrod. Sally is kinda shy around strangers, particularly men."

Look, Sheriff, I know Mrs. Driscoll gave..." here Jarrod stopped to swallow hard. "...my wife...a hard time at first, but Carol did gain the woman's trust, and I'm sure, in time, I will too. She really has little choice if I am to defend her." Talking about Carol was still so difficult for him. How he wished she were there right now to assure him, to be together as his partner the way they intended before he foolishly gave into the glamour of politics when he was offered the job of County District Attorney by the Governor. He would forever regret that fatal choice.

The Sheriff took the ring of keys and slowly walked around the desk toward the lawyer. "I tell you, Jarrod, it has been tough having her in my jail so long. You know I don't have facilities for a woman here, and when Saturday nights roll around, and I gotta haul in the drunks and rowdies, that poor woman just hides in the corner. It's gotten so bad I finally had Otis Clark put a wall around her bars so she's got some privacy. First we used curtains, but I was afraid she might try to hang herself."

"Is she really that bad that she would try to kill herself?" Jarrod asked incredulously.

"A couple of weeks ago she tried stabbing herself with her supper knife right in the gut. I ran over to get that lady doc for her and-."

"Oh damn, I forgot all about her!" Jarrod's open palm flew to his forehead with a slap, then he rubbed away the pain.

"Forgot about who?"

"The doctor. I asked her to meet me at my office. She's staying at the ranch to look after my

sister-in-law."

"How's Laura doing?"

"I don't really know much, except that she had a bad night last night. Would you excuse me, Fred? I've got to find the doctor." Jarrod turned quickly on his heels, and as he rushed to the front door, it flew open and hit him in the face. "OUCH!"

Agatha's hands came up to cover her mouth. "Oh my goodness! Did I hurt you?!"

Jarrod bent down at the waist and held his head with two hands. "Well, of course you hurt me! For pity sakes! You don't have enough patients?! Must you make them as you go along?!"

"I'm so sorry! I truly didn't mean to hurt you. Please let me see to your injury." She helped Jarrod to a chair near the sheriff's desk.

"Looks like you're gonna have a shiner there, Jarrod," the sheriff snickered.

"Oh wonderful, excellent. Just what I needed," he said with his hand over his eye. Agatha tried to pry his hand away from his eye, but he pushed her hand aside. "Let it alone! You've done enough!"

"I'm a doctor. I want to help."

"Jarrod, let the woman help you," the sheriff encouraged. Jarrod reluctantly took his hand away from his face. Agatha touched the fleshy part around his eye as gently as she could, but he still winced. It was already becoming an angry welt under his eye and swelled to an abnormal size.

"You're going to need ice for that," Agatha declared.

"I'll get myself a raw steak at the Cattleman's Club later," Jarrod said as he shrugged away from her touch.

"You will not! I can't see wasting a perfectly good steak when ice would be more efficient and less costly, and certainly more sanitary. My goodness, do you know how many germs there are in a piece of raw steak?!"

"Germs?"

"Germs are live organisms that can spread all types of diseases. Haven't you ever heard of Louis Pasteur?"

"Of course I've heard of him and his theories! You're not planning on debating with me are you?" Jarrod spat out sarcastically.

"Not if you're not interested."

"In truth, I am not!" Jarrod stood from his seat. "I really don't have time for this. I have a client in the next room, and we have a case to prepare. So if you don't mind?"

"Very well, I will go to the ice house and when I return I will have everything prepared to take care of that eye," Agatha promised as she rose up defiantly.

"Fine, you do that. Lead me to my client, Sheriff." Jarrod stalked into the back room where the jail cells were located. He felt relieved to have finally gotten rid of the annoying woman if only for a moment.

The jail consisted of three large iron barred cells with two small cots in each with the exception of the one where the lone woman prisoner was kept. She had a single cot, neatly made with sheets, blankets and a pillow. There was a small table and chair. The bars that divided her cell from the next were covered by a wooden partition of hasty construction. It offered the female prisoner at least a modicum of privacy.

The frail woman looked up as the two men entered. She took several steps back and stood in the farthest corner.

"Sally, this is Jarrod Barkley. He's going to serve as your lawyer," the sheriff said as the loud jangle of keys told her she was about to lose her safe place. When her cell door was opened it always signaled danger, and she stood back in a futile attempt at safety. Even when the sheriff would bring her meals, Sally Driscoll stood in the corner waiting for the sheriff to leave her tray on the table. Only when the door was once again locked did she deem it safe to come out of the corner.

Jarrod walked into the jail cell and extended his hand. "Good day, Mrs. Driscoll."

Sally slid down the wall, her hand clutching to her grey tattered dress as she brought it up to cover her face. "Don't hurt me! Please don't hurt me!" Her voice was a meek whisper.

Jarrod stepped back, quickly placing his hands to his side. "Forgive me.I didn't mean to frighten you." He moved away until his back was touching the iron bars. "Do you remember me, Mrs. Driscoll? My wife was your lawyer. Remember? I sat behind you in court every day, advising my wife, Carol, about your case. Can you recall that?"

"Carol? You're Carol's husband?" She slowly rose from the wall and lowered her dress, but still pressed her back to the corner.

"Yes, I'm Jarrod Barkley. I'm going to be your lawyer."

"Where's Carol? I want Carol! I don't want you." Jarrod gave a heavy sigh and studied the jail floor.

"Come on, Sally, I told you about Mrs. Barkley," the sheriff reminded her as he stood just outside the bars. "She's gone Sally. I told you that."

"Gone? Oh yeah, she-," Sally looked at Jarrod accusingly. "You killed her, didn't you? You were jealous, and you killed her!"

"Certainly not!" Jarrod cried out indignantly and righted himself. He moved closer to the woman and she moved away from his advances, shielding her face from expected blows. "Please, Mrs. Driscoll, I'm not going to hurt you. I promise."

"Promises mean nothin', I know! Go away!" Jarrod turned away, looking forlornly at the sheriff and shrugged his shoulders. The Sheriff unlocked the door to let Jarrod out again.

"How am I supposed to defend her, when she won't let me get near her, or even talk to her?" Jarrod said dejectedly. The sheriff answered with a shake of his head.

"She'd talk to a woman, but there ain't any women lawyers around."

Agatha appeared at the doorway listening to the two men. "Excuse me, Sheriff, could I see my patient since I'm here?" Both men glanced at her.

"Doctor James took care of Sal when she had that accident with the knife I told you about," the sheriff explained.

At the sound of the doctor's voice Sally moved from her corner perch. Her face showed a ghost of a grin forming as she stood by the bars. "Doc Aggie, you're here. I knew you'd come. I've been waitin' on ya."

Agatha wrapped her hands around the iron bars of the door and stood facing her patient who was a scant twelve inches away now. "I'm so sorry. Truly, I didn't abandon you. I had a severely ill patient I was caring for, but I'm here now. How is your ankle? Is it well?"

"Oh yes, Ma'am," Sally spoke animatedly.

"And your stomach, where you hurt yourself?" Agatha looked down at the small gaping hole in the material that showed a glimmer of a bandage under Sally's dress.

"It's better. It don't hurt much anymore."

"Good, Sally, I'm glad to hear it. I've been concerned about you. I'm glad you haven't had any more accidents like that. You remember we talked about those accidents?" Agatha smiled reassuringly at the sad faced woman.

"Yes, Ma'am I remember whatcha said and no more accidents like it, I promised ya."

"Good, I'm certainly glad to hear that. May I come in so we can talk?"

"Oh please! It's not very tidy, but-," Sally began to fold a blanket left hanging over the edge of the bed. "I'm afraid I wasn't expecting visitors." While Sally busied herself with folding away her bed clothes, the sheriff once again unlocked the cell door. This time, the woman didn't cower in the corner when she heard the keys scrape the lock. Sally pulled out the only chair in the room so the doctor could sit. She waited for the doctor to be seated, then she sat on the corner of her jail cot, still holding the folded blanket protectively in her lap.

"Now Sally, is there anything that I can get you? Anything you need?"

"Aw, well, I guess-. No, Ma'am, there's nothin'." Sally's eyes went to the painted floor.

"Now, Sally, we agreed we would trust each other and be honest. Surely there is something you want to say."

Sally nodded to the two men still standing at the opened doorway to the sheriff's office. Jarrod and Sheriff Madden were stilled by the transformation of the female prisoner. Neither had ever heard Sally Driscoll say so much as a three word sentence. "Tell him to leave." There was little mistake that she had meant Jarrod.

"Mister Barkley? You want him to leave? Why? He's going to take your case, Sally," the doctor replied. "You should be very grateful. Mister Barkley is one of the finest lawyers in this state."

"What did he do to his wife?" she asked under dull brown eyelashes.

Agatha sat rigid in the chair. "Goodness Sally, surely you don't think Jarrod, I mean Mister Barkley, had anything to do with poor Carol? We've spoken about this before. Remember, I told you that Mrs. Barkley, Carol, was killed by someone who broke into the law office? Why, he hadn't anything to do with that. Jarrod Barkley is a fine man! You couldn't find any better!" Agatha proudly bragged as her gray eyes gleamed.

"Doc Aggie? You trust 'im?"

"With my life!" Agatha qualified soundly. Jarrod was taken aback by the doctor's declaration and peered at her after giving the sheriff a questioned glance.

"Excuse me, Doctor James. May I speak to you for a moment?" Jarrod again stood against the jail door.

Agatha patted Sally's hand. "I'll be right back. Would you excuse me?" Sally nodded her assent. Agatha moved to the jail door to meet Jarrod. He had his hands wrapped around the bars so she kept hers at her side. "Yes, Mr. Barkley?"

"You seem to have a rapport with my new client. Would it be an imposition if I asked you to work with me on her behalf?" Jarrod whispered through the bars.

"Work with you?" Agatha's own whispered voice caught in her throat. She was only inches from his handsome face. She gazed into his azure eyes. "Work with you? How? I mean, yes, of course. How?"

"Mrs. Driscoll seems comfortable with you. If you wouldn't mind helping me question her?"

"Question her? I don't understand." She tried to focus her thoughts on what he was saying but the sound of his rich voice made her quiver, and his eyes mesmerized her into a stupor.

"I would like you to be in the room with me when I question her. So that she wouldn't feel so frightened. Please, I would pay you for your time."

"Pay me?! You insult me, Sir! Pay me for my time!" She backed away from him.

"I didn't mean to offend you, Doctor James, surely. I only meant to pay for your time as a physician, of course. To help Mrs. Driscoll with her nervous condition. Please, Doctor?"

"Of course, I'm sorry. I misunderstood. Forgive me."

"Not at all." Jarrod said with a hint of satisfaction.

Embarrassed, Agatha turned toward Sally who was still sitting on the cot, but now her fists were tangled in the folded blanket as she held it up to her face. "Sally, would you mind if Mr. Barkley came in here and asked a few questions?" Sally shook her head and buried it in the blanket. "Sally, I'll be here the entire time. You needn't worry. I promise he won't hurt."

"You'll stay with me?"

"Yes."

Sally nodded as she blinked back frightened tears.

The sheriff again unlocked the cell door so Jarrod could enter. This time he waited until Agatha took her seat beside Sally on the cot. The two women entwined their hands together.

Part 32

With black curls flying in the breeze she ran into the kitchen and burst into excited chatter in front of the unsuspecting servant.

"Uncle Silas! Uncle Silas! Guess what?" Colleen panted, out of breath.

"Easy, young Missy, yer almost knock poor ole Uncle Silas down. Where are ya going in such an all fired hurry?"

"It's Mama, she's going to come down and have a tea party on the veranda with me!" the child said excitedly as she clapped her hands together.

"Now who told ya that? Yo' mama's on bedrest. I heard tell the doctor say so."

"No, Papa's bring her down, said she's gonna sit on the veranda and have tea, but Papa said to make sure it's milk on a 'count of the baby."

"Well, if that be the case then, I'll fill the tea pot for you and yo' mama with milk."

"Cookies too please, Uncle Silas."

"Did yo' papa say you can have cookies too, 'specially so close to supper?"

"Everybody knows ya need cookies to wash down milk, Uncle Silas, even Papa."

"Uh huh, well, we'll see. I guess, I could put out a few cookies on the plate in case yo' mama's hungry."

"Put three for Mama. I think the baby's real hungry." Colleen nodded her head, and placed crossed fingers behind her back.

"Ya think so, do ya, Missy? Hmm, I suspects the baby's big sister is a mite hungry too." Silas laughed as he placed six oatmeal raisin cookies on a dessert dish.

"Uncle Silas, how do you suppose the baby eats the cookie when he's in Mama's tummy?"

"Here, you take the cookies, and I'll take the tea tray. Come along."

"Uncle Silas, how does the baby eat?"

"You best ask yo' mama that, Missy." Silas led the child out of the kitchen. They heard peels of laughter coming from the foyer. Nick stood in the foyer at the base of the stairs holding Laura in his arms.

"You're incorrigible!" she giggled and ducked under his chin to kiss him.

"Yup, but you still love me," he smiled widely.

"Without a doubt," she said, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and leaning in to give him another kiss, this time on his lips.

Silas held Colleen back with one hand so she wouldn't interrupt her parents' private moment, but in her excitement she called out to get their attention. "Mama, the tea's all ready for us. There's plenty for you too, Papa."

The couple happily looked down at their daughter.

Silas was beaming at them. "It sure is good to have you home, Miz Nick."

"Thank you, Silas." She angled her head toward Nick. "Take me to my tea party, Sir. It won't do to be late."

"As you wish, Milady." Nick quickly turned and brought her out onto the veranda. He settled

Laura down on a white wicker chaise lounge. There were several matching chairs and a table where Silas set the tea tray down. This part of the house looked out toward Victoria's rose garden. Several peach and apple trees lined the colorful garden giving it a cooling shade. "Comfy?" Nick asked as he gingerly patted his wife's leg, which was partially covered in a cast.

"Yes, thank you."

Colleen held up the dessert tray of cookies. "Look, Mama, cookies. Do you think the baby likes raisin cookies?" Laura took a cookie from the offered tray.

"What?" Laura said puzzled, then gave the child an indulgent smile. "Oh, of course. I'm sure the

baby will love raisin cookies just like you." Silas poured the milk into the china cups.

"You sure do have the roses back in yer cheeks, Miz Nick." Silas smiled, happily.

"Thank you, Silas." She gave Nick a loving wink.

"Will you have some tea with us, Papa? I can pour you some."

"Well, tell you what, Pixie Face, I'll just take that tea cup and put my own tea in it, if that's alright with you?" Nick took the delicate china cup from his daughter's hand and went inside to fix "his tea".

Colleen shook her head. "I don't think Papa likes milk."

"Well, it's been a while since Papa's had to drink it." Laura took a bite of the cookie. "Mmm, delicious, Silas."

"I helped him, Mama."

"I bet you did, Sweetheart, and a very good job too."

"Mama?"

"Yes, Sweetheart?"

"How does the baby eat in your tummy?"

"Actually, the baby isn't in Mama's tummy. It's in a place called a womb, sort of a nesting area."

"Like a bird?"

"Yes, something like that."

"Is it in an egg shell?" she asked, innocently, studying her mother's stomach. "I don't see a bump like when Auntie Hope had her babies."

"Well, you won't see it for a while yet."

Nick re-entered with his filled tea cup. "Did I miss anything?"

"Mama doesn't have a bump like Auntie Hope did."

"A bump?" Nick asked puzzled.

"Yes, Papa, a bump on Mama's tummy. I don't see it, do you?" Nick smiled as he sat beside his wife. He cupped his hand over Laura's stomach and patted it.

"Nick!" She hurriedly pushed his hand away and blushed.

"Trust me, it's there alright. I saw it," he snickered, then leaned back in his chair, taking a long sip of his drink. "Ah, this tea is delicious," he said, smacking his lips.

"What do you mean you saw it? When did you see it? I'm not showing yet?"

"You are so."

"I'm not."

"My love, I know what you look like under that," he said, pointing to her dressing gown. "And trust me, the bump's there."

Laura put her tea cup down on the table nearby and stretched out on the chaise lounge. She loosened her dressing gown and smoothed out the wrinkles of her nightgown with the palms of her hands. "Oh, Good Lord, you're right! I have a bump!"

"Told ya so," Nick said smugly.

"But it's too soon, isn't it?" She looked questioningly over to her husband. "I'm not due until January!"

"So? Remember how big Hope got in such a short time?"

"That's different! She was carrying twins!"

"Well?"

"Oh, don't be silly. You know, this could be a boy, after all. Boys are always bigger."

"Well, of course it's a boy. You want a brother, don't you, Pixie Face?"

"Yes, Papa!"

"There you see? It's a boy!" Nick said with authority as he took a last gulp of his drink.

"Colleen, why do you want a brother?" asked Laura.

"Because, Lupe said if I have a baby sister I would have to share my dollies and I don't wanna!" She jutted out her lower jaw and waved a tight small fist in the air for effect.

Nick let out a laugh then stood up. "Well, ladies, it's been a wonderful tea party, but I have some work to do." He leaned down and gave his wife a kiss on the cheek and another was placed on his daughter's. "I'll be in the tack room doing some repairs. If you need me just holler."

* * * * * * * *

Agatha didn't understand Jarrod's silence as they rode back to the ranch. While they were in the Sheriff's office, speaking to Sally Driscoll, he seemed quite pleased with himself. He had finally gotten through to his client, and certainly, Agatha had been more than happy to be able to help him. But now there was a dark cloud over his demeanor, and Agatha was hard pressed to understand why. She tried several times to enter into a conversation with him, but she had been rebuffed at every turn with a frowning grunt as he rode beside her carriage.

When they arrived at the ranch, Ciego was the first to greet them. He stood by Jarrod's mount.

"Good day, Senor Jarrod."

"Ciego, put my horse away for me and help the doctor." Jarrod spoke his orders without looking at the servant, but instead kept his eyes focused straight ahead of him to the front door. Ciego did as he was told and assisted the doctor down from her carriage.

"What's wrong with the Senor?" the gardener whispered.

"I have no idea, Ciego."

Jarrod opened the front door. "Mother?"

Victoria came into the foyer from the dining room and patted his chest as she kissed his cheek. "Jarrod, I'm so glad you made it home in time for dinner. Goodness, Darling, what happened to your eye? You look like you were in a barroom brawl for heaven's sake." Finally, she thought maybe he and the lady doctor had some trouble along the way. "Isn't Agatha with you? Is she alright?"

"She's coming. Is Laura still upstairs?"

"No. I'm happy to say she was feeling better so Nick brought her down. She's on the veranda. I think she's napping. I was just going to rouse her for dinner."

"I'll do that." Jarrod moved swiftly to the veranda. Agatha walked through the still opened front door.

"Mrs. Barkley." She greeted the woman, but her eyes were steadied on Jarrod's retreating back.

"Agatha, is everything alright? Poor Jarrod looks awful. You didn't have problems in town, did you?"

"I didn't think so. How's my patient?"

"Laura's on the veranda. Jarrod just went out to her."

"Thank you, Mrs. Barkley."

Agatha quickly removed her hat and cape, placing them on a nearby hat rack, then she also headed toward the veranda. She found Jarrod sitting beside his sister-in-law, watching her intently while she slept. Feeling a presence, Laura woke up and smiled at Jarrod.

"Hello, Jarrod. Goodness, I didn't mean to fall asleep, but it was so pleasant here. Colleen and I were having a tea party. Where is she by the way?" She looked around.

"I'm sure she's fine," Jarrod answered tersely. Laura pulled herself up from the chaise lounge and stretched her arms above her head.

"Do you mind helping me into the wheel chair, Jarrod? I've been sitting here long enough."

"Certainly," Jarrod's stern demeanor was taken off guard for a moment by the request. He rolled the cane chair close, then lifted her into his arms. "Better?" he asked as he set her down.

"Yes, thank you." Jarrod sat back down. Laura finally noticed the expression on her brother-in-law's face. "Is there something wrong, Jarrod? You look upset."

"I need to speak to you about a very serious matter. I hope you can help me sort things out."

"I'll do what I can, Jarrod, you know that." She smiled sweetly.

Jarrod took in a deep breath and began. "It's about Carol's murder."

The smile on Laura's face quickly disappeared and fear took its place. She searched her mind for words but none came, so she waited with bated breath. It was Nick who had finally filled in some of the blanks to her memory that very morning in the privacy of their bedroom. He told her Jason Browne had confessed to murdering Carol Barkley. The only mystery that was left was why. Laura knew the answer, though she didn't tell Nick at the time, and now she knew Jarrod suspected the truth.

"The last conversation I had with Carol," he drew in a long sigh, pushing back tears, "she told me she had a meeting with 'a rat' she called him. She didn't explain further, but she had in her possession a small folder I've never seen before."

Laura bit her lower lip and stared down at her own hands resting on her lap. Jarrod waited a moment, then continued. "A while ago, Nick was in my office, and he spoke about an incident that happened during your honeymoon in Sacramento. Do you remember that incident?"

She nodded her head but didn't look up at Jarrod. He placed his finger under her chin and brought it up to face him. "You gave Carol that folder, didn't you?" Laura's sapphire eyes now brimmed with tears, and she admitted her guilt with a quiet nod.

"Carol intended to use the affidavits in that folder to blackmail Jason Browne, but it backfired, didn't it?" Jarrod took his hand away as Laura began to weep. Jarrod straightened slowly, his hands now clasped behind him as he turned his back on her. He didn't see Agatha hiding behind the French door leading out to the veranda.

Agatha gaped as the muscles in Jarrod's now crimson face began to palpitate. She had never seen such rage before, although he seemed to try to control it by taking several quick breaths. Jarrod's voice now spoke through clenched teeth. "That's why Browne killed my wife."

He squeezed his eyes closed to stop the tears, but it was to no avail. The tears flowed, and his heart filled with rage as he turned back to face Laura. She looked so meek and small sitting in the wheel chair, but his heart was like stone when he finally spoke again. "Damn you! DAMN YOU!" Jarrod shouted out, his fists now clenched at his sides. He had to hit something, so he quickly turned again and pushed his fist through the glass pane of one of the French doors.

Agatha backed away to keep from being showered by the shards of glass. Laura began to sob loudly. She had never seen Jarrod so enraged, and it terrified her. Laura had often witnessed Nick's outbursts of temper and had little fear of them. But Jarrod in a rage was a new experience, and she actually feared for her life.

The doctor rushed to her patient's side, and folded protective arms around her. "Are you mad?!" Agatha shouted at Jarrod.

The sound of the glass breaking was the first thing Nick heard when he entered the foyer. He flew toward the sound, knowing he had left his wife on the veranda, just outside the glass doors. "Laura!" he shouted. He found Agatha comforting his terrified wife, and Jarrod standing near the broken glass, his right fist bleeding.

Nick didn't wait for explanations but whirled Jarrod around and punched him soundly on his jaw. The lawyer landed on the ground crushing some of the garden flowers. He stood unsteadily and glared at his brother. Tears and dirt streaked Jarrod's face. Nick noticed the angry bruise under his brother's eye. He knew he didn't cause that. "Looks like I wasn't the first one to hit you today, was I?" Nick snarled.

"I'm afraid I did that," Agatha confessed, her head bowed in shame.

"Never known you to pick on women, Jarrod! What's going on here?"

"That's you Nick, hit first, ask questions later," Jarrod spat out as he wiped the blood from his mouth. "I don't hit women, but I don't have a problem hitting you, little brother!"

Jarrod's fist swung before he had finished the sentence and Nick staggered to the ground, felled by the blow.

"What in God's name is going on here?!" Victoria cried out when she witnessed the outcome of the scuffle in her garden.

"It's settled now!" Jarrod said as he pushed past his mother and left the house, slamming the front door behind him.

Part 33

He had dismissed the cook since he moved back into the mansion. Now he supposed he would have to hire her back again, or find another who was just as good. Jarrod really didn't mind. In fact, he welcomed it. He knew living at the mansion was his way of hiding from himself and his feelings. It had been over two months since Carol was murdered. Now, in his own home, in the house he had shared with her, he noticed that the scent of her perfume no longer lingered in the air. It had disappeared from his life, just as she had. No warning, just gone forever.

He trod heavily up the stairs, his feet leaden with each step. 'It is time,' he thought to himself, 'finally time.' No more would he be a coward. He realized now that losing Carol was worse than when he lost Beth, because then he had a mission, a goal: vengeance. But here he had no armor to cloak himself with. Losing Carol laid him naked, vulnerable and bleeding.

The nights were the worst. Even being in a house full of family didn't erase his loneliness. The voices in the house only made it more lonesome. Sometimes he would listen to little Colleen giggling in the halls when his brother Nick gave her a ride to bed on his shoulders. Jarrod's heart sank because he would never know the joy of tucking his own child into bed and telling him bedtime stories; no, because he was determined never to marry again. He finally came to the realization that his was a vulnerable career, where evil men seek revenge, and he vowed he would never again place another loved one in that kind of jeopardy again.

The law had always been his saving grace, his salvation. Now it would be his only companion. He was determined to live the life of a bachelor from this point on. Jarrod would be known as the dear old uncle who was indulgent to his nieces and nephews because he hadn't any children of his own, showering them with gifts. At least that would assure his welcome into their homes in his old age. "It is time," he repeated, out loud this time as he flung open his wife's armoire.

Blood. He saw a spot of blood on the white bib of the first dress he found hanging there. It was then he realized his hand was still bleeding. A silk scarf thrown carelessly over a peg on the door would serve as a makeshift bandage. He wrapped it around his hand.

Such beautiful clothes they were. Laura would fit them perfectly, but he would rather destroy them than give any to her! His anger burned fresh in his heart. He shook his head fiercely. 'No, that won't do,' he told himself. He couldn't continue to blame Laura. He alone was to blame. He was the one who deserted Carol in her time of need. He remembered how angry she had been when he had announced his decision to take the position of county prosecutor. She had been close to tears then. He never realized how inadequate she truly felt. She was always the self assured one of the two, but that was in politics. Carol was comfortable in Sacramento. She had hated living in Stockton, but she had done it for him. She had loved him, of that he had no doubt. He cursed himself again. It was his own political ambitions that had caused Carol's death, and he had to finally face the truth of it.

His shame raged inside him. He could no longer look at her possessions. "Enough!" he said to himself. If he rid himself of her things then maybe he could finally rid himself of the guilt that was eating him inside, and finally, just maybe, he could come to terms with her death. No one else was to blame for Carol's death but himself. No one!

Jarrod began to yank the dresses from the armoire and throw them on the bed. He quickly grabbed armful after armful until only the shoes and matching hats were left. Then one silly little hat caught his eye. It was the palest blue with a white lace veil that draped over the front and hung down in a fashionable bow in the back. Carol had only worn it once, on the day they were married.

* * * * * * * *

Jarrod still hobbled with a cane. It was a constant, painful reminder of the earthquake when he and his sister-in-law, Laura, were caught under the rubble for well over twenty-four hours. They were finally rescued by Heath and Nick, along with the San Francisco fire department.

Carol stood by Jarrod wearing the light blue veiled hat which matched her outfit. Nearby, was their good friend, Senator James Bannard along with his wife, Amelia. The Bannards served as witnesses to the nuptials. The judge officiating their marriage was none other than the former Governor of California, now Congressman, Romualdo Pacheco. The Congressman had the distinction of being the first California Governor of Spanish ancestry. He revelled in politics and made a comfortable living at it. He had been a State Senator, State Treasurer, Lt. Governor, Governor and now Congressman. The blood of politics coursed through his veins, and even though he was a Republican, he boasted of many close friends on both sides of the aisle. Pacheco and Bannard had worked closely together on bi-partisan issues that affected the agricultural life of California.

Judge Pacheco began. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this company, to join together this Man and this Woman in Holy Matrimony; which is an honorable estate, instituted of God, and therefore is not by any to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly. If any man can show just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace.

Jarrod, wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy state of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?"

"I will," Jarrod answered with pride in his voice and love in his eyes.

"Carol, wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy state of Matrimony? Wilt thou love him, comfort him, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"

"I will," Carol responded, looking lovingly in his eyes.

"Now, you will join right hands and exchange rings?" instructed Judge Pacheco. "And repeat after me."

"I, Jarrod, take you, Carol, to be my wife, my partner in life and my one true love. I will cherish our friendship and will love you today, tomorrow, and forever. I will trust you and honor you. I will laugh with you and cry with you. I will love you faithfully through the best and the worst, through the difficult and the easy. Whatever may come, I will always be there. As I have given you my hand to hold, so I give you my life to keep, so help me God."

"I, Carol, take you, Jarrod, to be my husband, my partner in life and my one true love. I will cherish our friendship and will love you today, tomorrow, and forever. I will trust you and honor you. I will laugh with you and cry with you. I will love you faithfully through the best and the worst, through the difficult and the easy. Whatever may come, I will always be there. As I have given you my hand to hold, so I give you my life to keep so help me God."

* * * * * * * *

'I give you my life to keep.' Those words reverberated in his head over and over again. "My God! What have I done?! Forgive me!! Please! Forgive me, Carol! Forgive me!!" Jarrod dropped to the floor on his knees and cried out her name over and over again. Begging for forgiveness.

* * * * * * * *

The familiar sound of spurs on the wraparound porch made her turn toward the opened screen door. Hope smiled when she saw her brother-in-law standing there.

"Come in, Nick. Lovely evening. I just made some coffee. Would you like some?"

"No thanks, Hope," Nick said as he took off his hat and held it in front of himself. "How's the babies?"

"Right as rain. Would you like to see them? I just put them to bed."

"No, I wouldn't want to disturb them."

Hope placed her hands on her hips and smiled. "Surely now, you're not waiting for an invitation to sit down, are you? You know you're more than welcomed here, brother dear." That remark forced a small grin on his face. "Nick?"

"Yeah?"

"Heath's in the barn stacking feed."

"You think he needs my help?"

"I'm sure he would welcome it. Tell my husband, when he's ready, I have some raisin bread for his coffee, and you're welcome to join us."

"Thanks, Hope." Nick replaced his hat and went out.

* * * * * * * *

Heath heard Nick long before he saw him when he first rode up to the house on Hero. He knew something was amiss with his brother, as Nick wasn't much for visiting. Once Nick's shadow appeared at the door, Heath looked up from his work. He pulled off his bandana and wiped the glistening sweat from his brow.

"Nick," Heath greeted. "How's the day treating ya?"

"All right, I guess. You?"

"Fine."

"I noticed you got that new corral up for the mustangs."

"Yup. Jody and the boys finished it today."

"Good. Won't be long before the cavalry will be looking for new mounts," Nick answered.

"I expect so." Heath continued his work. Nick came along side him and began to help. Soon Nick was tossing the bags twice as fast as Heath did, so Heath stopped and went over to the well to get a drink of water. He poured some of the water down his neck while he stood to watch Nick finish the work. Once Nick had the feed bags neatly stacked, he turned toward his waiting brother. "Feel better?" Heath asked.

"Not much."

"Got some firewood you can chop," Heath suggested.

Nick wiped his sweaty brow with his shirt sleeve. "All right." Heath turned and Nick followed him out.

From the house Hope heard the sound of chopping wood, but it didn't sound like Heath's usual rhythm so she looked out the window. She saw her husband sitting on a bale of hay watching his brother chopping away at a cord of wood. Hope was mesmerized by the speed at which Nick worked. He only stopped once, to take off his hat and vest and give his brow a swipe with his bandana. He placed his bandana in his back pocket.

Hope instinctively knew something was bothering her brother-in-law, and this was his way of working it out. She also knew that if anyone could help Nick with his demons, Heath could. She decided to make a fresh pot of coffee. 'It's going to be a long night.' she told herself.

An hour later Nick finished the last piece of wood. He was dripping with sweat when he finally looked up at his brother, who was still sitting on the bale of hay.

"Did you enjoy yourself watching me work?" Nick barked gruffly.

"Yup. Feel better?" Heath answered with another question.

"No."

"Afraid I ain't got no more chores for you. Want to see if Hope's got any?"

Nick wiped his wet face with his bandana and replaced it in his back pocket again. He declined the invitation to work any further with a shake of his head, but instead sat beside Heath on the bale.

"It's been a damn hot summer, huh?" Nick finally replied.

Heath nodded in agreement. "I'd say so."

The brothers were silent for a while. "I cold-cocked Jarrod again." Nick confessed.

"Did he deserve it?" Heath asked, quietly.

"Yeah. He made Laura cry."

"Well, I would have done the same thing then." Heath waited patiently while Nick took another minute to speak again.

"Remember we talked about those papers in Jarrod's office? The ones from Sacramento?"

"The testimonies from those prostitutes Browne was involved with?"

"The same," Nick nodded. "Laura thought they might help Carol's case along if she gave those papers to her to blackmail Browne."

"And Browne killed her for them." Heath stated.

"Yeah."

"So Jarrod knows?"

Nick shook his head and gave a rueful laugh. "Blasted woman. She's gonna be the death of me yet!" Nick stood up and began pacing in front of Heath. "She never listens to me! Never! Damn her! I told her! I told her then not to get involved with those women! But did she listen to me?! Hell, no! She goes on as she pleases! Wants to help the whole damn world!"

"You knew she had those papers in her possession. Just what did you think she was going to do with them?" Heath chided.

"I didn't want to think about it! I suppose I figured she held on to them to somehow threaten Browne if he ever took advantage of those women again."

"And that didn't bother you?" Heath asked with a hint of exasperation.

"I know! I was stupid! I should have destroyed them a long time ago! I'm cursing myself now for not doing it!" Nick shook both fists. "I swear to God there are days I want to shake some sense into her!"

"Nick? Do you know who you're angry with?"

Nick didn't answer but stopped pacing and gave his back to his brother. Heath was surprised when he saw Nick's shoulders shake. "Browne almost raped my wife. Landelle stopped him. I'm so angry that I'm afraid of what I'll do."

"Who are you angry with, Nick?" Heath forced his voice to be calm, but he could feel the rage welling up in his older brother, and his heart pounded in his chest.

Nick dropped to his knees while tears trailed down his rugged face. He raised his head and shook his fists in the air. "LAURA! DAMN HER!"

Heath went to his brother's side and placed a comforting arm around him. Nick shook his head in frustration. "I love her, Heath, I do; but I am so angry with her I could-. I had to get out of the house. I didn't trust myself. Agatha gave her something to help her sleep. She was very upset because of Jarrod. You know she's not supposed to get upset. She's still not well," Nick offered as an excuse for not showing anger toward his wife.

"Jarrod showed his temper to Laura?"

"Yeah. He scared the hell out of her."

"Jarrod's temper would scare the hell out of anybody," Heath qualified. Nick stood and Heath got up with him. They both settled back on the bale of hay. Heath rubbed his brother's shoulder, giving him the encouragement he needed to continue.

"I was angry with Jarrod for upsetting her."

"So you're angry at both your wife and Jarrod." Nick stared as Heath's statement hung in the air.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm trying to figure out what's bothering you, is all. You're angry with Laura for getting involved in helping those women back in Sacramento. Jarrod's angry with Laura for trying to help Carol defend a woman here. Seems to me, Laura's to blame for everything. I can't fault Jarrod for being angry with her. I mean, put yourself in Jarrod's position. How would you feel if you were him?"

"Jarrod?"

"Yeah, Jarrod," Heath repeated.

Nick stared out beyond the barn and the corral, not looking at anything in particular. "You know, Heath, Jarrod never mourned for Carol. He didn't have time. He dropped everything to help me search for Laura, and he looked after Colleen when she was afraid that her parents abandoned her. When we came back from the cattle drive, Colleen was always clinging to her Uncle Jarrod, following him everywhere. Jarrod was the only man in her life she could count on. He was there when I couldn't be."

"Jarrod's used to that. He was there for Mother, Audra, and you, when Father died."

"Pappy." Nick said, above a whisper. "Jarrod is always there for everyone. Who's there for him now? Certainly not me. Hell, I didn't even give him my condolences when-." Nick shook his head in disgust. "All I did was demand he give my family back! I actually blamed him for taking my family away. And what's he got? An empty house, an empty bed, an empty life. What the hell kind of a brother am I?"

"One of the best I know, Nick."

"Damn it, Heath, how do I make it up to him? I've accused him of trying to steal my wife and daughter. You know, we never really made up after what happened in Frisco. That was all show to keep Mother happy."

"I know Nick. I've always known."

Nick tugged at his ear and shook his head. "I sure made a mess of things, didn't I?"

"Why you? I thought we decided it was all your wife's fault?"

"No, it's mine. I should have kept a tighter rein on Laura. It's all my fault."

"A tighter rein?" Heath said with a half smile.

Hope interrupted the men's conversation by calling out from the porch. "Gentlemen, I have some nice raisin bread. Anyone interested?"

Heath gave Nick a nudge on the arm. "Maybe you should talk to Hope. Come on."

Inside, the two men sat at the kitchen table. The aroma of fresh baked raisin bread and brewed coffee wafted through the cozy kitchen. After Hope served the men, she sat down with them.

"How is Laura doing today? I didn't get a chance to visit. Leah was fussy today."

"Anything serious?"

"Teething, that's all. Now, how about you?" Hope asked in earnest.

"What do you mean?"

"I think you know what I mean, Nick." Nick proceeded to give Hope a shortened version of what he had talked to Heath about. Hope listened carefully.

"Laura's always trying to help someone. That's how she gets in trouble. The woman's gotta learn to mind her own business," Nick went on. "She should have listened to me, and stayed out of Browne's way, and never got involved with those women."

"You're right, Nick," Hope agreed.

"I am?"

"Most certainly. Laura hadn't any business to get involved with the women she met in jail. She should have listened to you and ignored how ill treated they were," Hope agreed. "Truly, it was none of her business. After all, isn't that what you would have done if you were in the same situation, Nick? You wouldn't have helped them, would you?"

"Now wait a minute, Hope. It's different with me. I'm a man, after all. Of course I would help them."

"Of course you would have, Nick, but you weren't in the position to help them. Laura was, and like a true, gallant man that you are, you let her help those women."

"And it put her in danger, and that's my fault! I shouldn't have let her do it. Laura needs to be controlled."

"Nick, let me tell you something about Laura that maybe you don't know. All her life Laura has been controlled. Decisions have always been made for her. Her father couldn't deal with her after Aunt Meredith died, so he sent her to that awful boarding school, where more decisions were made for her."

"Her Aunt Polly told me her old man wanted to place her in an orphanage," Nick informed them.

"Carson wanted to put his own daughter in an orphanage?" Heath asked, incredulously.

"Even I didn't know that," Hope replied, bewildered.

"It was Polly who told me. Carson wanted his sister to take Laura in after his wife died, but Polly was an unmarried woman and a teacher at an all girl's school in Boston."

"It wouldn't have been proper for a spinster to raise a child in those days," Hope qualified.

"Exactly. It was Polly who found the school in Frisco and brought Laura there. She figured it was better than an orphanage."

"No doubt," Hope agreed. "And Laura hasn't any knowledge of this?"

"No, Polly made me swear never to tell her. She didn't want Laura to think ill of her father."

"I knew Uncle Carson had little tolerance for children, but I didn't know how far his intolerance went," Hope added, shaking her head.

"I remember when she first came into this valley. Carson wanted her to marry. He had his sites set on Jarrod." Nick continued.

"But you messed up his plans," Heath added, with a half smile.

"Yeah, I messed his plans up. Maybe I shouldn't have. Laura's more suited to Jarrod."

"Nick, you're not serious?" Hope interrupted. "She fell in love with you. She never wanted Jarrod, you know that."

"Aw, I'm really not good enough for her. I never was. She deserves better than a dusty old rancher who only made it out of the eighth grade by the skin of his teeth."

Hope stood up to all of her five feet, two inch height. "I've never heard such utter nonsense. Let me tell you something, Nick Barkley! You and Laura are so much alike it's almost frightening."

"Tidbit, what are you talking about?"

"Why do you think Laura is always getting involved in helping others? The Stockton Library, the literacy program and women's suffrage?"

"To make my life hell?" Nick said half joking.

"No. It's to make her life worth something."

"What?" Nick shook his head in disbelief.

"Laura always felt she spent all those years in school and learned nothing worthwhile. It's why she's such an avid reader. She's always seeking to learn new things, and why she is always looking to improve the lives of others. She feels unworthy of her lot in life. She knows how lucky she is, and she wants to make things easier for others, and I think, to assuage her guilt."

"Guilt? She has nothing to feel guilty about!" Nick said with a raised voice.

"Doesn't she, Nick?" Hope asked. "When have you supported her efforts? Have you praised her for the work she's done in the literacy program? Do you realize how many people she's helped? You know how she feels about women's suffrage and women's rights. I know you care. I remember the Christmas you gave her all your possessions in writing, so I know you care about the unfairness women suffer in this world. But you harassed her so much every time she went to one of the meetings, that she finally gave the running of them over to Carol. She worked hard to get the women in Stockton to trust her enough to come to those meetings. Have you ever even given her one word of encouragement or praise?"

Nick stood up from the chair, moved toward Hope, and surprised her with a kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks, Hope." He placed his hat on his head and left Heath's home for his own.

* * * * * * * *

It was well past ten o'clock when Nick opened his bedroom door. He found his wife sitting up in bed, writing in her journal. She faced him with a mixture of trepidation and relief. Laura knew well when her husband's anger had reached beyond the boiling point. He would always leave the house then, sometimes not coming home until the next day. Those were the hardest times of all. Laura always feared her husband would seek solace in another's bed. In truth, she knew he would never cheat on her. It was an unreasonable fear, but a fear she nevertheless possessed.

"You're home. Thank God!" She attempted to hold back tears with a sniffle.

"I thought you would be sleeping," Nick answered.

"I was, for a while." She gave an audible sigh before she spoke again. "Nick, I'm so sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Laura." He gave her his back as he unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it in the hamper, then pulled his belt from the loops of his pants.

"I do, Nick. It was my fault. I should've talked to you first. If I had, Carol would be alive today, and Jarrod wouldn't hate me, and the two of you wouldn't be at each other's throats."

"Don't worry about Jarrod and me. We've had scrapes before." Nick sat on the edge of the bed and pulled his boots off. "We'll probably have scrapes again, too. You know, Jarrod's the one who taught me how to fight. He sure did land a good one on me today." Nick worked his jaw and gave a rueful laugh.

Laura slammed her journal down on the nightstand by her side. "Nick, how can you joke about what happened today? I'm feeling awful, and you're making jokes about it! I did a terrible thing!

Why aren't you angry?"

"I was."

"What do you mean, was?"

"I'm over it now."

"This is not like you, Nick. You're usually angry for days, weeks even! What's wrong?" she asked, fearfully.

Nick glanced over his shoulder. "Do you really want to know what's wrong?"

"I asked," she stated, flatly.

"You're married to an ass."

"What?" Laura was incredulous at her husband's self rebuke. Nick pulled the rest of his clothes off and got under the covers beside her. He hauled her to his side and rested his arm around her shoulders.

"I know I don't deserve you," he began. "but, I'm not letting you go, no matter how much of an ass I am!" He pulled her down so they were both lying beside each other.

"What?" Laura was still dumbfounded.

"We have lots to talk about."

"We do?"

"Uh huh. You know that women's literary club you started at the library? The one that's a front for your suffragette movement?"

"The word is suffrage, Nick," she said, exasperated. "You-, you know about that?"

"I'm an ass. I'm not stupid, Woman."

"What about the Women's Literary Club?"

"When you're feeling better, I want you to have the meetings here."

"Here?!"

"You heard me! No more going into Stockton alone. I don't ever want to take the chance of losing you. Not again."

"But, Nick-"

"Yes?"

"I'm- I'm speechless!"

"About time!" Nick smiled as he pulled her into a strong embrace.

Part 34

Agatha had quickly seen to Laura Barkley's medical needs after the incident in the garden and given her a mild sedative. She then hurried as fast as she could to see to Jarrod after Ciego told her he had headed in the direction of his home. Now Agatha stood on the lawyer's porch. She noticed the dried spots of blood leading up to the porch steps and knocked on the door as loudly as she could. After several tries knocking at the door and no answer, she turned the doorknob and walked into the seemingly empty house.

"Hello? Mr. Barkley? It's Agatha James. I know you're here. I saw your horse tied outside. I came to take care of your wound. Hello? Jarrod?" Agatha slowly searched each room downstairs, and when she was satisfied nobody was there, she ventured upstairs. She prayed she would find Jarrod well, as he had been so distraught when he left the Barkley mansion.

Agatha opened the first door to her left above the stairs. Women's clothing was strewn everywhere, and Jarrod was kneeling on the floor with his head tucked in folded arms leaning over the edge of the bed. At first, she wasn't sure if he was sleeping, but then she noticed his shoulders visibly shaking. Agatha's heart ached at the sight; Jarrod was silently weeping. She didn't want to startle him, so she called out from the doorway.

"Mr. Barkley? Excuse me, Mr. Barkley?" No answer was forthcoming. "Mister-, Jarrod? Please, answer me."

Jarrod didn't look up when he asked her to go away.

"I'm sorry, I can't leave you. You're still bleeding. You'll get an infection." Agatha clutched her medical bag tightly as she moved a few more steps into the room. "Please, let me help you."

"Go away!" he shouted this time, lifting his head from his arms to be heard better. "Get out!"

"No, I won't! Not until you let me help you."

Jarrod finally glared at the woman. His usually neatly combed hair was disheveled and splayed about his forehead. His face was mottled with red blotches and his eyes were swollen with glistening tears. "If you really want to help me, get rid of these damn clothes! I never want to see them again!"

Agatha stepped closer to her patient. "Very well, I will send them to Padre Sanchez's Mission House for the Poor. He will distribute them among-."

"NO! I told you I never want to see them again! Don't you listen?!"

"All right," Agatha said, as calmly as she could. She was, in truth, shaking inside, but dared not show it to him. "I can send them to my father in Seattle. He can distribute them among the women there. They don't receive many fine clothes like these and will be glad to get them."

"Do what you will as long as I don't ever see them!"

"You won't," she promised. "Now, may I attend to your wounds?"

"NO! Take the clothes first!"

Agatha looked at the mountain of clothes. She had no idea how she was going to accomplish her task. Jarrod's bruised hand had become an angry red, and she knew he would need stitches to stop the profuse bleeding. He was becoming pale from the loss of blood, and the once white silk bandage he had wrapped around his hand was now darkened. She could wait until he passed out, but her oath as a doctor wouldn't let her entertain that possibility. Agatha knew how stubborn Jarrod Barkley was. It seemed to be a trait that ran through each member of this patrician family. No, she had to think fast.

"Very well. I noticed you have a caretaker here. What's his name?"

"Jeff Owens."

"With your permission, I will have Mr. Owens go into town and fetch some cargo boxes for shipping. Once he brings them back here, I will fill them with the clothes and have them shipped to Seattle, Washington on the next boat. Now, you will do me the favor of going downstairs to the kitchen so I may tend to your wound."

"No. The clothes first. I don't want to see them here." Jarrod shook his head vehemently. He was beginning to feel lightheaded, but still he pushed himself up on unsteady feet.

"If you go downstairs with me now, I promise you, you will never see them again. But you must cooperate with me." Agatha insisted. Jarrod began to sway, and she rushed to him just as he lost his balance. He caught himself on the edge of the bed with his good left arm. "Please, Mr. Barkley, I insist. You've lost too much blood already. Please, come downstairs with me."

"You promise to get rid of the clothes?" Jarrod asked as he leaned on her for support. Agatha knew the loss of blood was causing Jarrod to be unreasonably obsessive about his wife's garments, but she knew it was best to humor him in order to get him to comply with her wishes to care for his wounds.

"You have my word." She helped Jarrod downstairs and sat him at the kitchen table. She stood at the sink and pumped the well handle. The water wasn't coming out at all, and the handle was stiffened from disuse. "Oh dear," Agatha fretted.

"What's wrong?" Jarrod asked from the kitchen table.

"The pump needs to be primed."

"I'll get some water from outside." Jarrod began to stand, but she easily pushed him back down into the chair by placing both hands on his shoulders.

"No, you don't!" she warned. "You're too weak. I'll get it, and you sit right there! Don't move. I have to speak to Mr. Owens anyway, so I will take this opportunity to do so."

Since Jarrod knew he really didn't possess the strength, he sat back down and hung his head in his hand while he leaned his elbow on the table. "I'm sorry. I'm usually not like this," he apologized. Agatha sighed at his confession, then went out the back door of the kitchen with a pitcher.

When Agatha came back inside, she began to pour the water into the pump and to prime it, but had difficulty managing both the pitcher and the pump handle. Jarrod stood and took the pitcher from her.

"You pump with your two good hands, and I'll pour," Jarrod ordered.

The water pump was tight, but with two hands Agatha managed to dislodge the handle. Jarrod leaned over the pump to prime the top with water. With renewed vigor, Agatha pushed the handle up and down as quickly as she could. Darkened, rusted water began to whoosh out and thoroughly soak Jarrod's white shirt and silk vest. Jarrod jumped away from the pump, and the pitcher dropped out of his hand, crashing at his feet.

Agatha covered her mouth. "Oh, I'm so sorry! Are you all right? I didn't mean to-," she explained, but then her nervousness took over and she started laughing.

"I'm glad you find this so amusing," Jarrod huffed as he pulled the wet shirt away from his skin.

"I am so sorry, I don't mean to. I'm so sorry."

"You are a... well, never mind! I'm going to change out of this shirt."

"Please, I'll get you a dry shirt! Just tell me where to find it."

"You? Why?"

"I did promise you wouldn't have to see those garments, and I have yet to attend to them. So if you'll permit me...?"

"Fine, top drawer of the bureau." Jarrod began to take off his shirt and dry his skin with it.

It wasn't long before Agatha entered the kitchen again, clean shirt in hand. She found Jarrod standing by the sink soaking his hand in a pan of water. The coolness of the water took away some of the sting he was feeling. 'Damn, why did I put my hand through that glass. It was a stupid thing to do!' he thought, then he admonished himself with a growl. "DAMN IT!"

"Excuse me, " she interrupted. "I have your shirt here." Agatha couldn't take her eyes off Jarrod's bare back and shoulders. Despite being a man who worked indoors, he still had a wonderful tan. Maybe not as dark as his brothers, she thought, but still, he certainly was a healthy looking specimen. Her daydream was interrupted with a clip remark.

"Well, are you going to give me my shirt, or not?!"

"Oh, ah, sorry," she moved quickly toward him, then looked at his injured hand soaking in the water. Ribbons of blood were floating on the surface of the water.

"Well, maybe I should bandage your hand first. You're going to need a few stitches."

"Then get on with it," he ordered. "I'm tired. I want to sleep."

"Of course. Right away. Please sit down at the table. I'll get my medical bag."

Jarrod let out an impatient grunt. He usually wasn't this rude. "Damn it!" he thought. "He was NEVER this rude to anyone!" But he was in terrible pain, and very tired. His patience was worn to a frazzle.

Agatha tended to his wounded hand. She stitched the larger cuts, wrapping his hand firmly in a gauze bandage, then assisted him with his shirt.

"Thank God you didn't break anything," she commented. He grunted his reply. She passed a hand over his tense shoulder muscles, inadvertently touching the scar from the gunshot wound. He turned toward her, waiting for her to cover his bare shoulder with the shirt.

"What are you doing, Doctor?"

"Oh," she shook out of her stupor. "I was inspecting your shoulder. -Wound," she added to the sentence.

She led him into the parlor where she insisted that he lie down on a sofa. While he rested, Agatha began the task of packing Carol's belongings into the crates that Jeff Owens brought back from town. Once she had finished the work, she had the caretaker move the crates into the other room to be transported the next day to the freight office at the shipyard.

Agatha brewed some tea to serve Jarrod, but when she brought the tray into the parlor she found him fast asleep. She covered him with a light blanket she found draped over the back of the sofa, then she poured herself a cup of tea.

She couldn't help surveying the room while Jarrod slept on the sofa, snoring softly. She walked over to the double desk and picked up a gilded frame with a picture of Jarrod and Carol. Agatha assumed it was taken on their wedding day. She traced the image of Jarrod with her finger, lingering on the fullness of his smile. 'He looked so incredibly happy,' she thought, and sighed at the sadness he now suffered. "Darling Jarrod," she spoke aloud.

"Carol?" Jarrod stirred in his sleep. Embarrassed, Agatha quickly placed the picture back on the desk and walked over to the sofa.

"No, it's Agatha. Are you feeling better?"

"Carol. Please?" he begged with soulful azure eyes.

Agatha noticed the sweat beading on his forehead. "Oh no, you're burning up!" She leaned over him and stroked his soaked dark hair with a gentle hand. "I was afraid this would happen. I waited too long to attend your hand. Oh, Jarrod. I'll be right back." Just as she rose, Jarrod caught her wrist and held it, forcing her to sit beside him on the sofa.

"Don't go! Please! Don't leave me!"

"I'm only going to get some cool water, I promise." She struggled to be released from his iron grip, but it was useless. She was amazed at the strength of the man, considering his condition.

"Please, say you forgive me! Please, Carol, forgive me!" he begged. He was staring at her as renewed tears traced his fevered cheeks.

"I'm not Carol. Please let go of me!" She tried to pry his fingers from her wrist, but it proved impossible.

"Forgive me, please! I'm begging you! Forgive me!" he continued.

"Yes, yes, alright, I'll forgive you, anything," she promised. "Just please let me go!" Agatha was frantic to be released. Having witnessed his temper first hand, she didn't wish to provoke him more than need be. "I forgive you, Jarrod! I forgive you!" she said in desperation. He released her wrist and smiled.

"Thank you, my darling. I love you." Jarrod's entire face took on a peacefulness as he looked warmly into her eyes. Agatha was afraid he would realize who he spoke those promises of love to and be furious. Her eyes were searching for a means of escape, when his hands reached up to her arms and pulled her into an embrace. His tender lips covered hers. Agatha struggled to get free, and she would have, except his tongue stole into her mouth and took possession. She was captured and doomed. She succumbed to his embrace as his arms locked around her back and he spoke sweet love words into her opened mouth.

Jarrod hands began to pull out the pins in her hair. She tried to escape his grasp, but he let go of her only long enough to smile as his hands still worked on freeing her hair from the severe bun.

"I told you, darling, when we're home I want you to keep your hair down for me. I love the feel of your silky hair in my hands. Don't deny me. Please."

Agatha's auburn hair cascaded down her shoulders in russet curls. "I won't," she whispered as he brought her towards him again for a hard kiss. His tongue entered her mouth and once again took full possession. This time, Agatha didn't struggle free.

* * * * * * * *

"Nick! Please hurry!"

It was five o'clock in the morning when Victoria heard the commotion and rushed out of her room barely taking the time to tie her wrapper. "What in heaven's name is going on?" She stood in the hallway and watched Nick with a chamber pot in hand, running from the water closet into his bedroom. Victoria followed him just in time to see her daughter-in-law vomiting on Nick's stocking feet.

"Aw, son of a...!" Nick swore.

"I can't help it! You weren't fast enough!" Laura complained as she grabbed the chamber pot out of his hand. She held it securely to her bosom while she sat up in bed. "Damn, I hate this!" she swore under her breath.

"Can't you hold it? Even for one lousy minute?" Her husband complained.

"No I can't! Where's the wet cloth?"

"On the night stand!" Nick bent down and carefully pulled off his socks while muttering under his breath. He held the soiled socks out in front of him and tried to stop himself from gagging. "Aw, hell!"

"It's not my fault!" Laura wailed. "You weren't fast enough."

"Did I blame you?! Did I?!" Nick asked, loudly.

"Stop yelling at me!" she yelled as she wiped her face and forehead with the wet cloth.

"I'm not yelling at you!" Nick yelled back. "Sonofa..."

"And stop cursing! This is all your fault you know!" Nick nodded his head in agreement.

"I know! I wasn't fast enough with the blasted chamber pot!"

"No! You got me this way! It's all your fault!" She furiously accused him.

"Oh really? Well, I seem to remember you taking an active part in it! Blasted Woman!"

"Stop yelling at me!" Laura began to cry into the wet cloth, soaking it with her tears.

"Aw, hell!" Nick turned to leave the room when he spotted his mother standing by the opened doorway. "Morning," he growled out. "Where's Aggie? She should be in here!"

Victoria walked into their bedroom. "Agatha didn't come back last night. Laura, let me help you get out of that nightgown. Nick, why don't you draw your wife a bath? Do you still feel sick?"

"I don't know, Victoria. It's hard to tell, and Nick's been terrible!" she complained. Nick shrugged his shoulders, then left the room.

"I'll start the bath," Nick griped.

Victoria looked back at him. "Don't go too far. I want to talk you, Nicholas."

Nick groaned at the mention of his Christian name. "Now what did I do?"

"It's what you didn't do, but you will!" Victoria said, sternly. Then she returned to her daughter-in-law and helped her stand up on crutches.

Victoria left Laura comfortably ensconced in the bathtub, with her casted leg hanging over the side. She searched for Nick and spied him in the hallway, kneeling on one knee talking to his daughter.

"I'm sorry, Pixie Face, you can't see Mama now. She's not feeling well."

"Is Mama sick again? She's not going to go away from us is she?" Colleen asked, tears threatening to fall.

"No, Sweetheart. She's gonna be fine. Mama's taking a bath now, so she'll feel better soon."

"Colleen," Victoria interrupted. "Would you ask Uncle Silas to make more of those biscuits for your mother?"

"The ones she eats when she has a tummy ache?"

"The very same."

"I think Uncle Silas has some left," Colleen volunteered.

"Well then, let's you and I go down to the kitchen and get Mama some of those biscuits," Nick suggested as he stood and took his daughter's hand.

"Let Colleen do it herself. I want to talk to you, Nicholas." Colleen tugged on her father's pants leg.

"Papa, are you in trouble?"

"Of course not," he answered, looking down at her.

"Then why did Grandlee call you by your big name?"

"Never mind, run along now," Nick ordered and watched Colleen run down the backstairs to the kitchen. He reluctantly turned toward his mother. "Yes, Mother?"

"Yesterday, after you left for God knows where-"

"I went to talk to Heath," Nick explained.

"Don't interrupt," she warned. "Agatha left to tend to Jarrod's wound, and she never came home. I want you to go over to Jarrod's house and see how he is doing. Then I don't want you to come home until you have straightened out this mess with your brother!"

"Not come home?" Nick bellowed.

Victoria pointed her finger at him and gritted her teeth. "You listen to me, and you listen good! Don't you dare come back into this house until you've made peace with your brother!"

"Mother, I-"

"Don't interrupt me again! I will not have this go on any longer between the two of you! Your brother is in pain! He lost his wife, and he's hurting. We are a family, and we support each other when one of us is hurting! We do not hurt more! Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Mother," Nick said, quietly.

"You're my son, Nick, and I love you, but if you don't end this with your brother and make peace, I will leave this house and never speak to you again," she threatened.

"You can't mean that, Mother."

"It hurts me to say this to you, Nick, because I love you, but I mean every word I say, and you know that I do! Now, what's it to be? Do you make peace with your brother, or do I pack my belongings and move out?"

Nick didn't say another word but went back into his room.

* * * * * * * *

A short while later he was knocking on his brother, Jarrod's front door. Nick was surprised when the door was opened by Doctor Agatha James. Nick couldn't help but smile. She looked different. Her auburn hair tumbled down past her shoulders in soft curls. Her glasses were missing from her face, and several of the buttons at the front of her dress were undone. Agatha's cheeks took on a healthy rosy glow, and Nick could almost swear her lips looked swollen from being kissed. He recognized all the signs.

"Well, good morning, Agatha," Nick smirked as he pulled off his hat. Agatha grabbed hold of the collar of his black vest and hauled him inside the house. The shock of her action pulled Nick off balance as he tripped into the house.

"It's about time you got here, Nick Barkley!" she whispered fiercely under her breath. "Follow me! And keep your voice down, Jarrod's sleeping," she warned.

"Yes, ma'am," he agreed at the clipped order. Agatha led him to a bedroom across from his brother's. She opened the door to a room full of wooden crates. "What's all this?"

"Your brother wants this all shipped today on the next boat leaving for the Puget Sound. You have to take them."

Nick walked into the room and inspected the crates. They were all addressed to a Doctor Edmund W. James, Seattle, Washington. "This fellow a relative of yours?"

"My father."

"Medical supplies?"

"Women's clothes," she answered. "They're Carol's. Jarrod asked me to get rid of them."

"So you're sending them to your father?"

"Yes. Seattle is still rural. The women there don't often get a chance to have such fine clothes. I offered to give the clothes to the mission, but Jarrod wouldn't hear of it. He didn't want to see any of them around."

"I don't blame him. I would feel the same way."

"Please, take them now. I promised him I would get rid of them today."

"Where's Jarrod? I need to talk to him."

"I told you, he's sleeping."

"This time of the day?"

"He wasn't feeling well. He had a fever."

"Oh. So you stayed with him all night? Looking after him, huh?"

"Just what are you implying?"

"Oh, nothing, " Nick shook his head. "Nothing at all."

Agatha placed her hands on her hips and gave him a stern look. "Quit dawdling and get these crates out of here! You can ask Mr. Owens to help you. He's probably in the barn."

"But I have to talk to Jarrod."

"I told you, he's sleeping. Maybe after you come back from your mission he will be well enough to receive visitors, but for now, he is not!"

"Yes Ma'am." Nick replaced his hat and grabbed the first wooden crate. He groaned under the weight of it. "I best get Jeff to help me with the rest."

"Yes. You do that, and be quick about it." Agatha barked.

Nick mumbled something incoherent under his breath about women and the day he was experiencing.

Part 35

Several hours later Nick was back on Jarrod's doorstep. Agatha opened the door to find Nick leaning on the door frame, looking tired.

"Done," he huffed out.

"Good," Agatha said. "Bye." She began to close the door.

"Hold it!" Nick blocked the door with the palm of his hand. "Lady, I'm not finished yet. I told you I came here to talk to my brother."

"He doesn't want to talk to you!"

Nick pushed himself inside the house. "Then I'll wait until he does."

"He's still sleeping."

"It's almost lunch time. He'll get up soon. I'll wait." Nick strolled into the parlor and noticed a blanket and pillow haphazardly thrown on the sofa. "Slept on the sofa did ya?"

"No. Your brother did."

"Oh. So where did you sleep?"

"On the sofa."

Nick smiled. "Really? Wasn't it a bit crowded for ya?"

"Don't be disgusting! I'll have you know your brother went upstairs to bed! I stayed on the sofa."

Nick decided to change the subject. "You look different today, Aggie. I like it."

"Different? How do I look different?" She stood in the foyer watching him stalking around the parlor, inspecting things with his eyes and bouncing his hat in his hand.

"Well, your hair is loose. It looks good on you, all down and shiny. Hard to tell what color your hair is when it's all up like you usually have it. You should keep it down. Men like a woman's hair to be down."

"How would you know?" she asked, haughtily.

"I'm a man." Nick gave her a wink and a small grin. "Always hate it when my Laura puts her hair up. Of course she only keeps it up when she's working at home or goes into town. Later, at night, she takes it down for me, cuz I like it down."

"To please you, of course."

"Yes. She likes to please me. And I like to please her." Nick gave Agatha another smile.

"Then why aren't you home pleasing her?" She stood firm with her hands still planted on her hips.

"I came here to talk to Jarrod. Besides, Laura's sick. She's got morning sickness. She doesn't want me around when she's sick." Nick gave a small chuckle. "It doesn't please me to see her sick. She hates to see me suffer." Nick gave out a hearty laugh at that untruth. Agatha stiffened herself to give him a blistering remark when Jarrod's words stopped her.

Jarrod had come up quietly to stand behind Agatha. "What do you want here, Nick?" he asked, wearily.

"I came to talk," Nick answered, his grip on his hat tightening.

"I don't feel like talking to you right now! Go away." Jarrod growled.

"I brewed a pot of coffee. Do you want a cup?" Agatha offered her patient.

"Thank you. I would love some," Jarrod answered.

"Yeah, I'll have a cup too, Aggie," Nick replied.

Jarrod trudged inside the parlor and pushed the blanket and pillow aside on the sofa to sit down. "Why the hell are you here?"

"I came to bury the hatchet, Jarrod. For good this time."

"In my back?" Jarrod ground out angrily.

"All right, I deserved that." Nick pointed to a chair nearby. "Mind if I sit down?"

"Who's going to stop you? Go ahead. Say your piece." Nick sat on the chair across from his brother. He laid his hat on the small dessert table between them.

"Laura's very upset about what happened. I knew she had those damn papers. I could have destroyed them, but I didn't. I'm too indulgent with her I suppose. Hell, she's pretty much got me wrapped around her finger."

"Those we love seem to have power over us," Jarrod said, ruefully.

"I'm ashamed of the way I treated you, Jarrod. You didn't deserve any of it. I hope, in time, you'll be able to forgive me and my stupid ways. You're welcomed at the ranch anytime, and I hope you will still sit at the head of my table on Sundays, just like always."

"The ranch is your home now. It's been like that for some time. I have no right to sit at the head of it. That's your place."

"No, you are still head of this family. Nothing is going to change that."

"Thank you for that, but-."

Agatha interrupted any further conversation when she carried in a tray with coffee and cups. She placed them gently before Jarrod.

"Thank you. You're very kind to do this," Jarrod nodded to the lady doctor.

"Not at all. It's my pleasure," she smiled, then turned to Nick and scowled. "Why are you still here? I heard your brother ask you to leave!"

"And I told you I had to talk to him," Nick gruffly answered back.

"Haven't you done enough? Look at his hand. That's your fault! I had to give him six stitches just to stop the bleeding. You know, you're fortunate your brother is a lawyer and not a surgeon. Because, if he was, he would sue you for restraint of trade. As it is, he should still sue you for the disuse of his writing hand! You know, he has a very important case coming up, and he can't be wasting his time with the likes of you, Nick Barkley! Has anyone ever told you what an overbearing, loud mouth, ill-mannered boor you are?"

"Yes." Nick answered, dryly. Jarrod bent his head down to hide a smile.

"They have?"

"Yeah. Now, are you finished?"

"Not quite!" Agatha tightened her fists on her hips. "You owe him an apology!" Nick had always thought of Agatha James as a timid little mouse, but the woman before him was anything but, as her emerald eyes glared at the six foot two rancher.

"I did apologize." Nick answered.

"Well, it's not good enough!"

"Doctor James, I appreciate your loyalty, but I assure you, I've been fighting my own battles for some time now."

"I'm sorry, Jarrod, but I don't happen to think you've been doing a good job of it!"

"I beg your pardon?" Jarrod said, flabbergasted.

"You have been letting your brother ride roughshod over you! Taking advantage of your commitment to your family, to the point of putting your own feelings aside to look after the needs of a very ungrateful family. Most particularly your loud mouth brother!" Agatha eyed Nick accusingly.

"Hey!" Nick stood up.

"Sit down! I'm not finished with you yet!" Agatha pointed an angry finger at Nick.

He sat back down and mumbled, "I should've stayed home! I was better off with Laura throwing up on me."

Agatha decided to ignore Nick's complaint. "When your brother's wife died, he didn't have time to mourn. No, he couldn't afford the luxury of mourning his dear, dead wife because he had to take care of you and your problems! Jarrod has always had to put his own feelings and concerns aside for the family. The all great and powerful Barkley family! So powerful, but they still need Jarrod to cure all their ills and wipe their noses! Of course, now, you don't need him any more, so you treat him like dirt, that is, until you need him to come to your aid again. Well, Mister Nick Barkley, you're a big boy now with a family of your own! It's time you take care of your own and stop depending on your big brother!"

Nick slowly stood up and took his hat in his hand. "You're right. You said it better than I ever could. Everything you said is true, Doctor James. Unfortunately, I realized it too late and hurt him in the process." Nick faced his brother who still sat on the sofa. "You're my brother, Jarrod, and I love you. I hope one day you can forgive us."

Nick turned to leave the house. Jarrod moved to stop him by placing his left hand on Nick's shoulder.

"I'm afraid my learned doctor has it almost right. You see, what she doesn't know, is that the reason we Barkleys are so great and powerful is because we stand together. We share in triumphs and pain. I know, if the tables were turned, my brother Nick, would put his pain aside to help me in my hour of need. Of that I have no doubt. Am I right, Nick?"

Nick turned back to face Jarrod. He blinked back tears and nodded a quiet agreement. The two brothers embraced.

Continued…