Keeping Faith

Parts 36-40

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 36

It was now the last week of September, and Laura Barkley was looking forward to saying goodbye to the tiresome cast and crutches after one last visit to Dr. James. Sadly, the lady doctor still could not boast of a large clientele of patients. Despite vigorous support from the Barkleys, most of Stockton's residents still shied away from the woman doctor. Agatha blessed her parents, who taught her to be frugal. It had been hard to live on her meager earnings, but she also secretly blessed Jarrod Barkley who had hired her to help him with his client, Sally Driscoll.

Agatha enjoyed working with Jarrod, though she didn't think she was really much help to him. Jarrod had hoped his client would readily open up to the woman doctor and tell her what really happened the night her husband died, but Sally seemed to have retreated more into her protective shell. Jarrod again had to postpone the Driscoll trial for fear his client was too fragile to withstand cross examination by the overbearing District Attorney, Philip Archer.

The scars on Jarrod's right hand were hardly noticeable thanks to the fine needle work of Doctor Agatha James, and Jarrod showed he had full use of it when he slammed the file folder down on his oak desk.

"Phil, this is low, even for you! We haven't even started this trial and already you are relegating my client to San Quentin!"

"Now, Jarrod," Phil Archer said, his hand raised in peace. "Surely you can see the point of this. You know it's not an unusual request, especially when both attorneys are not yet prepared for trial."

"I am prepared to go to trial. We already have a jury and judge in place."

"Don't try to kid me, Jarrod. You are nowhere near to getting your client to cooperate with you. You have no defense. Sally Driscoll won't even talk to you!"

"That's not true. I have had many fruitful talks with my client that you are not privy to," Jarrod lied.

"I happen to know you only visit your client in jail with your lady friend." Phil Archer tried to hide a sneer. In all his years of knowing Jarrod Barkley, he had discovered a few tricks on how to rile his worthy opponent. Not the least of which was fanning the rumors that the recent widower was keeping close company with the unpopular lady doctor.

"I will have you know, Doctor Agatha James is employed by me to look after the well being of my client. It's a well known fact, even to you, that Mrs. Driscoll has a fear of men. No doubt brought on by the frequent beatings from her husband." Jarrod scowled.

"Save if for the jury. I'm not interested in Sally Driscoll's well being. I am interested in bringing a murderer to justice. Now it seems to me that this woman would be better off in the women's section of San Quentin. No men there."

"With the exception of the guards of course. And just how do you think she'd fare then?"

"She should have thought of that before she murdered her husband." Jarrod's hands flew up in exasperation, much to the delight of Phil Archer who brought his hand up to his mouth to hide his glee.

"Alleged! Alleged murder!" Jarrod growled.

"As you prefer." Archer turned away and paced the office. He turned back with his finger pointed at the defense attorney. "Be that as it may, Sheriff Madden's jail is not equipped to have a female prisoner for this length of time. It has certainly put a strain on himself and his one lone deputy. Surely you see that?"

"I didn't know the law was meant for the convenience of our law officials. I thought it was for the justice of our citizens."

"Barkley, you're not arguing in front of the Supreme Court," Archer let out a dramatic exasperated sigh for the benefit of his worthy adversary.

"Surely you see the danger in this, Phil? Be reasonable here!"

"What danger? I don't see danger. I see Stockton's city resources funding this woman's incarceration when the state is better equipped to handle this problem."

"I see. Now you want to save the taxpayers' money. Ah Phil, your thoughtfulness is beyond reproach. I do hope the citizens of Stockton realize your generous spirit and concern for them come election time."

"Well thank you, Jarrod. I'm with you on that. I do hope I can count on your family's vote?" Archer said, an amused grin curling his lip.

"You certainly can, providing you see things clear on this issue."

Phil laughed at Jarrod's comment. "Very amusing, Jarrod."

"I am not laughing. Sally Driscoll is the victim here. I agree, she has been in jail too long, and I would be happy to join you Monday and ask Judge Williams to put my client in the custody of a reliable citizen," Jarrod argued.

Phil Archer raised both eyebrows and stared at his colleague incredulously. "Barkley, have you lost all reason here? The woman is a murderer! Who is going to take her into custody?"

"I can find somebody. I know I can."

Archer shook his head. "This is unheard of!"

"Not at all. There is actually a precedence. I found it. There was a woman in Eugene, Oregon who stayed under house arrest after she was accused of manslaughter because there weren't any facilities in the town to hold her. She stayed under the custody of a relative. I have it right here. You can read it." Jarrod picked up a heavy cloth bound book already opened on his desk. He pointed to the paragraph he was referring to.

Archer shook his head and waved his hands in the air, refusing to look at the paragraph Jarrod had pointed out. "No, sorry. I'm not going to the Judge with this ridiculous proposal. He'll laugh me out of his chambers!" Jarrod dropped the book down on his desk bitterly.

"Can you just once do something out of character, even for you! Must you be so rigid? The law is not black and white." Jarrod's eyes smoldered with fire as he ridiculed the District Attorney.

"Maybe not for you, Counselor, but there is a fine line I will not cross. And mark my words, Barkley, you bring this ridiculous notion of yours in front of Judge Williams, and you will have a fight on your hands. Your client is going to San Quentin to await her trial, and that's my final word on the subject!"

Phil Archer moved toward the office door, collected his bowler hat from the hat rack, and gave Jarrod a curt nod before he left. Jarrod stood with his hands on his hips and shook his head.

"Rigid, self centered, pompous ass!" Jarrod muttered.

* * * * * * * *

Doctor James welcomed her patient, Laura Barkley, as she walked in on crutches followed by her husband and daughter. "You look like you're ready to get that cast off, Laura."

"Oh, I am more than ready, Agatha. I have looked forward to this day," said Laura heaving a big sigh and hobbling into the office. "Where do you want me?"

"Why don't you let Nick help you onto the examination table in the next room?" Agatha took the crutches from Laura as Nick whisked his wife into his arms.

"Come on, Colleen, follow us," Nick ordered.

Colleen rushed up behind her father. "Can I watch the doctor cut Mama's leg off?"

Nick pushed open the door with his back. "You and me are going to the general store, Pixie. Remember? Mama's going to be here awhile. And if you're real good I'm going to buy you some licorice."

"Can we get some lemon ice cream too, Papa, at Herzig's?"

"Well, we'll see. If we have time. I still have to get a lot of supplies. You're going to be alright here?" Nick asked, turning to his wife.

"I'm fine. Take your time. I want to catch up with Aggie."

"Good, see ya later then." Nick leaned over, wrapped an arm around her neck, and gave her a kiss full of promise. He then rubbed Laura's protruding belly. "See you too, kid." Turning towards the doctor, he laughed. "Doesn't she look great? She's getting nice and fat." Nick grinned and patted Laura's stomach again.

"Nick! Stop! I am not!" Laura blushed, furiously. Nick gave the doctor a devilish wink and took Colleen by the hand, exiting the room. "Aggie, am I too big? I don't remember being this big with Colleen."

"Laura, every pregnancy is different. This baby is probably bigger than Colleen was. It could easily be a boy. Now, isn't that what you want?" Agatha smiled.

"It's certainly what Nick wants, and that's fine with me. I'll be happy if it's healthy. You know I didn't start showing like this until I was well into my sixth month with Colleen." Agatha gave out a loud sigh. "Oh, all right, I know, this one is different." Laura agreed, smiling.

"Are you uncomfortable sleeping already?"

"No, not really, but on occasion it does make doing other things difficult." Laura stretched out on the table and pulled her hem up so the cast could be seen.

"Other things?" Agatha asked, gathering the cutting instruments.

"Could we get on with taking this cast off?" Laura colored and averted her eyes. "I'm really looking forward to having the use of my leg back."

"You know you're going to need the use of a cane until you get your strength. It's going to hurt to put weight on that ankle for a while," Agatha warned.

"I know. Come on, Aggie, let's get started. I want to see my leg again. The first thing I want to do is give it a good hot soak."

"I knew you would. I have a nice large basin you can soak it in. You'll feel much better after that."

"You are an angel of mercy, Agatha."

* * * * * * * *

Nick placed a sack of coffee beans in back of the buckboard. Colleen followed with a small sack in her hands. She slammed the sack down on the coffee beans and imitated her father by wiping her brow with the back of her hand. "Boy howdy, Papa, ranch work sure is tough, huh?"

"Uh huh. And just what do you have in that heavy sack of yours, Cowgirl?"

"Mister Perkins gave me two bags of raisins so Uncle Silas can make his world famous cookies."

"Now I don't remember any of that on the list?"

"I have it on my list right here." She handed her father a wrinkled scrap paper she had tucked in the pocket of her white pinafore apron. "See, Papa?"

Nick smoothed out the paper wrinkles on the top of his long leg and stared at the childish scribble on the paper. "Who wrote this?" He eyed his daughter, suspiciously.

"Well, Uncle Silas forgot to write it down, so I wrote it for him."

Nick gave a discerning eye to the scribble on the paper. "Hmmph, looks to me like it says a half a pound of spinach leaves."

Colleen shook her head vigorously. "Oh, no, Papa. Uncle Silas would never tell me to write that down."

"Ya sure?"

"Sure am. Cross my heart. Honest, Papa."

Nick gave a hearty laugh and tousled the top of his daughter's black curls. "Come on, you little imp, get in the buckboard. We got some lemon ice cream waiting for us down the street." He easily lifted up the giggling child and set her on the wagon bench. "Women! You're all alike, no matter what age you are."

* * * * * * * *

Agatha helped Laura soak her swollen leg in a large basin of warm water.

"Oh that feels so wonderful, Aggie. Thank you." Laura sat on a chair and poured warm water over the top of her leg with a small pan.

Agatha handed her a sponge. "Here, take your time and wash."

She took the sponge from the doctor then began to cry when she heard the request to wash. The nightmare came flooding back. Agatha knelt down by her patient, concerned over her odd behavior. "Laura, what's wrong?" Laura shook her head, refusing to answer. In truth, she was remembering all that happened during her captivity. She relived the time she stood naked before a hooded Jason Browne and washed in the cold water basin, and his attempt to rape her, and finally the tremendous guilt she felt when she realized her foolish actions were the true cause of Carol Barkley's death. Laura couldn't come to terms with her guilt and shame. Even now, she couldn't bear to look Jarrod in the eye. Although he had generously forgiven both her and Nick for their transgressions, Laura couldn't forgive herself.

The office door bell rang. Agatha stood up. "That may be Nick already. I'll tell him you're not ready to leave. Please try to calm yourself, Laura. It's really not healthy for the baby." Laura nodded silently in agreement. Agatha understood better than anyone else how very fragile her patient was. She was surprised Laura Barkley had been able to carry the child as long as she had. Each time she examined her pregnant patient, she cautioned her not to get overly excited, and hinted she should stop having relations with her husband. That suggestion seemed to agitate the woman more, so Agatha dropped it.

Maybe Laura Barkley wasn't as fragile as she thought. Oddly, Agatha noticed she seemed to derive strength from her rancher husband. How the lady doctor envied that. Agatha sighed at that revelation and left the examination room door slightly ajar to listen for her patient while she saw to the front office.

Jarrod stood in the middle of her office, and when she entered, he pulled his hat off. The worried concern was evident on his handsome face. "We have problems, Agatha, big problems."

"My goodness, Jarrod, what's wrong?" She moved toward him and was about to touch his arm but thought better of it and forced her arms to her side.

"Archer, the prosecutor. He wants to send Sally to San Quentin to await trial." Jarrod rolled his hat in his hand and paced the floor.

"That's impossible! In her delicate state, she would never survive there! He can't possibly do that!"

"He can, and he will. Unless we find a way to stop him."

"This is all my fault. I should be more insistent with Sally. If only I could impress upon her the importance of her talking to you."

"It's not your fault, Agatha. You've worked very hard trying to bring her out of her shell. I have a plan up my sleeve, but it's a long shot." Jarrod stopped pacing and looked at her in earnest.

"What is it?"

"I'm going to plead with Judge Williams to have Sally put under custody. I just have to find someone willing to take her in."

"She could stay here, with me," Agatha offered.

"No, I'm afraid not. She needs a more secure place where there are several others to watch her. The Judge would never accept you as her guardian."

"Why not you then?"

"Impossible. I live alone. It certainly wouldn't be proper."

"Move back to the ranch. Certainly the Judge would allow you to take custody if you lived there." Agatha urged.

"No, I will not live under my brother's roof, and I doubt if he would even allow Sally there. I brought a client home once before, and Nick was very vocal in his displeasure. Besides, can you imagine poor Sally with Nick's bellowing everywhere? We would never get her to talk."

"What can we do?"

"Do you suppose we could get her committed to a hospital? For her own safety. You're a doctor. I can have you testify to her incompetence." Jarrod moved closer to Agatha. She backed away slightly to be able to collect her thoughts. His presence always seemed to jar any common sense thoughts out of her head.

"A sanitarium wouldn't be any better for her than a prison. If you can't get someone to take her in, she would still be better off in the Stockton jail."

"Yes, but Archer won't allow that. Never mind, Agatha. I'll think of something. Look, maybe when you get through here we can go over to the jail, and maybe this time we can impress the facts on Sally. At least we can try."

"Of course. I can meet you in an hour."

"At my office."

"Yes." Agatha agreed.

"Good, see you then." Jarrod patted her on the arm before he left the office. His touch sent currents bolting into her heart. Once Jarrod had closed the door behind him, Laura came out of the examination room fully dressed. She hobbled with the assistance of a cane.

"Laura, w.w. what are you doing?" she stammered, hoping her patient didn't notice she had trouble catching her breath.

"Would you tell Nick to meet me at the Stockton Library?"

"You shouldn't walk around by yourself. You're not used to the cane. Let me help you."

"No, I'll be fine. I'll take it slow, I promise. Tell Nick to meet me there." Laura slowly hobbled out of the doctor's office. A look of determination was plastered on her face.

* * * * * * * *

Ice cream was first introduced to Stockton by Charles Pexler of the Stockton Bakery. He purchased the necessary machinery from its inventor, Nancy Johnson. As time went on, he didn't find it profitable for himself, and sold the equipment to Herzig's Drug Store. Herzig wanted to keep up with the latest trend in Eastern Drug Stores. He installed a refreshment counter to serve the icy treats. The idea had proven so successful for him, that old man Herzig added several small tables and chairs for the ladies of the town, who preferred to sit there, rather than at the serving counter which, to them, looked more like a saloon bar.

Nick was sitting with his daughter at one of the tables, enjoying a cup of ice cream, when Sam Gruber, the editor of the Stockton Eagle, sauntered toward them, with his eight year old son by his side.

"Barkley," the editor greeted him with a pasted on smile, showing pearly white teeth.

"Gruber," Nick sneered back. "Something I can do for you?"

"Not at all, just trying to friendly. How is your lovely wife? I hear she's with child again."

"Digging for news to fill that rag you call a paper?"

"Actually I'm waiting for your lawyer brother to finally begin that murder trial he's gotten himself tied up with. My front page is waiting for the inevitable guilty verdict. After all, it's been a while since Jarrod has seen the inside of a courtroom. He's probably rusty after all this time sitting on the sidelines while his dear, departed wife did all his work. Do you have any idea when the trial is going to begin?"

"You got questions for my brother, I suggest you go ask him."

"Papa, can I have more ice cream?" Colleen interrupted.

"Yeah, go ahead." Nick waved his daughter away.

Colleen stood from the table and smiled at the red haired boy. "What's your name?"

"Samuel Hillyard Gruber the Third. But my friends call me Sammy."

"Can I be your friend?" Colleen asked.

"I guess. Wanna get some ice cream?" the boy asked.

"Sure, Sammy. You like lemon?" The two climbed on stools at the counter.

"I like vanilla. Ya ever try vanilla?"

"No, is it good?" Colleen wondered.

"Yeah. I'll share mine with you, if you let me taste your lemon."

"That's a good idea. I'm Colleen Victoria Barkley, but my friends call me Colleen."

"I know who are," young Sammy answered while he eyed the ice cream being doled out for another customer. "Your family is one of the richest in the valley."

"They are? Is that good?" Colleen asked, swinging her legs back and forth.

"Sure it is. It means ya don't have to pay with money. You just say charge it."

"Does that work?" Colleen asked with rounded blue eyes.

"Go ahead, try it," the red headed boy encouraged.

Colleen looked up at the proprietor and smiled. "A dish of vanilla for my new friend Sammy, and a dish of lemon for me, and say charge it."

"Why, most certainly, young Miss Barkley." Mister Herzig smiled at the pair. The two children smiled at each other.

"I like you, Sammy. You're smart!"

"Thanks, Colleen. I like you too." The red headed eight year old smiled back.

Nick was standing up and poking Sam Gruber in the chest with his finger. "Seems to me, you don't know what the hell you're talking about. Of course that never stopped you from printing trash in that rag of yours."

"A rag is it? That hasn't stopped any of you Barkleys from buying my so called rag."

"Of course we buy it. My brother and I use it to wrap fish guts in it when we go fishing! And my wife uses it to line our garbage pail!"

"You Barkleys think you're so almighty, so all powerful! Well let me tell you something, some day, someone will come along and take you down a peg or two!"

"Yeah, well, even if that does happen, you'll still be looking up at me, you snake in the grass!"

"I'm not going to waste my time talking to the likes of you!" Gruber's voice rose an octave.

"Good! Glad to hear it!"

"Samuel! Let's go home! Your mother's waiting for us!" the editor called out to his son.

"I'm almost finished, Father." Sammy called out, as he sped up his eating.

"Now, Samuel!" Gruber growled.

"Let the kids finish their ice cream, ya old coot!" demanded Nick.

"Who are you calling an old coot?!"

The children watched the exchange between their parents. "We better eat fast," Colleen warned.

"Yeah. Do you like the vanilla?"

"Yeah. Do you like the lemon?"

"Yup." Sammy answered, his face sticky with the sweet cream.

"Next time, we can have a little of both in a dish." Colleen smiled at her new friend.

"Don't think there'll be a next time. Do ya go to school yet?"

"Mama says I'm going next year," Colleen answered.

"Good, we can be friends in school when our fathers ain't around." Sam Gruber bellowed for his son again. "I better go. My father's turning red. Bye, Colleen."

"Bye, Sammy." Colleen waved good bye to her new friend.

Nick came over to collect his daughter. "Who said you could have more ice cream?"

"You did, Papa. Don't you remember?"

"Oh, yeah." Nick tossed three bits on the counter. "Let's go. Your mother's waiting for us." Nick took her hand in his.

"Papa? Can I go to school this year?"

"Why are you in an all fired hurry to go to school?"

"So I can play with my new friend Sammy."

"Sammy? That Gruber kid, with the red hair?"

"Yes. I like him. I think I'm going to marry him someday."

Nick hauled his daughter up into his arms. "Hah! Over my dead body!"

Part 37

Laura Barkley hobbled up to the librarian's desk. "Hi Dora," she said, out of breath.

"Laura! What are you doing here?!" The middle aged woman came out from behind the desk.

"Goodness, look at you. You have your cast off. And you're... dear, just when are you due?"

"I know, I'm huge. Do you mind if I sit down? I didn't think walking here would exhaust me so."

"Not at all. You look wonderful," the woman lied. "Here, sit down in my chair." Dora Hamon rolled the chair out from under her desk so Laura could sit down.

"Not too busy today I see," Laura sighed tiredly as she looked around the empty library.

"Just a few people came in today. So, tell me, how are you feeling? You poor dear! What you went through! When I read the account of your ordeal in the newspaper, I was beside myself with fear for you. Dear Laura, you poor thing!"

"Dora, I didn't come here to talk about me. I don't have much time. Nick will be here soon." Laura fanned her pink face with her hand.

"Your husband? He's coming here? When?" Dora couldn't hide the apprehension in her voice.

"Soon, which is why I have to hurry. I want you to get in touch with all the members of the

Women's Literary Club tonight."

"Tonight? Why? What's going on?"

"We are going to stage a protest rally Monday morning," Laura answered, still trying to catch her breath.

"Monday? I thought we were going to wait until the elections?"

"This hasn't anything to do with women's right to vote. It has to do with injustice to women."

"Which one? There are so many? Are you sure you can do this? You don't look at all strong enough."

"I will be by then. You just get all the ladies here to meet Hope and me at eight o'clock on Monday morning. And tell them to bring materials for signs. We're going to kick up some dust in this town the likes of which no one has ever seen!" Dora's smile widened from ear to ear until she heard the famous bellow, then she scowled.

"Woman! Don't you ever stay where I put you?" Nick shouted as he swung opened the library's double doors.

"Oh God, he's here," Dora muttered under her breath.

"Nick, sweetheart. I wanted to get used to walking again." Laura slowly stood up from the chair with great effort.

"You can do all the walking you want at home. Let's go." Nick stomped toward his wife with Colleen trailing behind.

"Can I go see the children's books, Mama?" Colleen didn't wait for an answer but ran over to the children's section of the library.

"May I, Colleen, and yes, you may," Laura corrected her daughter's fleeing back.

"No, you may not! We're going home now." Nick spoke over her then took his wife's hand. "Come on. Let's go."

"Nick, please. I just wanted to chat with Dora about the library. And please don't be rude. The least you could do is greet Dora."

"Hello," Nick clipped, with a touch of his hat towards the woman.

"Mister Barkley." Dora Hamon said curtly. Laura shook her head. She knew it was a great effort for either of them to be civil to each other ever since they had first met in Sacramento. Nick had never forgiven Dora Hamon for involving Laura in the women's suffrage movement while they were on their honeymoon, and considering all the problems it had caused since then, Nick wasn't very amicable to the woman.

"Let's get home, Laura. Come on, Colleen, let's go!" Nick called out.

"But Papa, I want to find a new book. Come help me get a book on the high shelf." Colleen jumped up and down with her hands outstretched toward a book shelf.

"All right, I'm coming," Nick moved toward his daughter but pointed a finger to his wife. "I'm getting her the book she wants, but after that, we're going home. You need your rest. You don't look right."

Laura sighed then whispered to Dora. "I'm going to have to find a way to convince him to let me see Hope first before he takes me home."

"Honestly, Laura, I don't know how you deal with him every day," Dora said, shaking her head.

"I love him, Dora, and besides, he makes me happy," she smiled wearily.

* * * * * * * *

Philip Archer was a creature of habit, a lover of discipline and order. He arose every morning at 7:15, and while his coffee boiled to a rich dark brew, he washed and dressed for the day. Of course, his vest and coat waited until he finished a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs, ham and large bowl of oatmeal. It was the same breakfast his mother had made him, and it was the same he ate now this Monday morning. Counselor Archer lived in the same house he grew up in, a block from the Stockton County Court House where his father, Armand Philip Archer worked as a county clerk until the day he died. Archer's mother, Lydia Rice Archer, taught music from her home. It was from her, young Philip learned his love of music and took up playing the tuba.

He was sitting at his kitchen table enjoying his usual breakfast when the first sounds of feminine chanting assaulted his ears. He pulled off the long dish towel that was tucked under his chin and walked into his parlor to peer out the window which looked onto Sperry Street.

"What the...?" He spied about thirty women, with placards marching in a circle in front of his peaceful home. They carried signs which pronounced the district attorney's unfairness to women as well as other proclaimed sins. The women chanted over and over again:

"FREE SALLY! FREE SALLY! FREE SALLY!"

The sight enraged the lawyer, especially when he saw the two Barkley women, Hope and Laura, leading the pack of protesters. "This is Barkley's doing! He's not getting away with this! I'll show him!" Archer couldn't button his vest fast enough as he roughly grabbed his suit coat from the mahogany hall butler that stood by the doorway. He absentmindedly placed his bowler hat on his head before he ventured out into the crowd. "You women! Get away from here! I'll have you all arrested! Do you hear me?! Go away!"

"FREE SALLY! FREE SALLY! FREE SALLY!"

Archer stepped off his porch, but when he realized he couldn't speak over the shouting women he headed straight to the sheriff's office. The protesters followed, making an odd public parade, led by the now furious district attorney.

* * * * * * * *

Nick walked into his home and was greeted by Maria Cortez, Heath and Hope's baby nurse. The grandmotherly woman held both squirming cherubs in her arms and gave him a smiling greeting. "Buenas días, Senor."

"Buenas dias, Maria. Why are you here?" Nick placed his hat on the foyer table.

"Senora Esperanza, bring niños a su casa."

"And where is Senora Hope? Upstairs?"

"No, senor, en ciudad, Stockton," the plump woman answered with a smile.

"And she left you here to take care of the niños?"

"Si, Senor." Maria nodded with understanding.

"Where's my wife?"

"Entiende, senor?" the woman asked.

"Never mind." Nick moved past her and stood at the foot of the stairs. "LAURA!"

"¡Oh mi dios, tan ruidosamente!" Maria did her best to cover her charges' ears from the hard sound of their uncle. The children giggled as their nurse rushed them into the parlor bringing them into quiet safety.

Silas walked down the stairs holding an armful of dirty clothes. "No need to shout, Mister Nick. Miz Nick went ta town with Miz Heath, but she'll be back afore ya know it."

"Yeah, well, I know it now! She's not here! Why is she in town with Mrs. Heath?"

"Miz Nick don't tell me her business, Mister Nick. Youse knows that."

"Hah! She's up to no good! I can feel it in my bones!" Nick complained as he pulled on his left ear.

"I don't know nothing about that, Mister Nick, sorry." Silas continued down the stairs.

"Silas, where's Mrs. Barkley?"

"Mrs. Barkley went over to Mrs. Crawford's house for a school committee meeting."

"How is it you know where Mrs. Barkley is?"

"Cuz Miz Barkley tells me her business, sometimes." Silas said after a pause, then moved quickly so Nick wouldn't see the grin that crossed his face.

Nick moved toward the front door and opened it. "HE... ATH!"

Heath walked in before Nick could finish the shout. "Boy howdy, Big Brother, you can wake the dead with that voice. What's all the shouting about?"

"Did you know your kids are here?"

"Sure, I brought them here this morning, why?"

"Do you know where your wife is?"

"Yup."

"Where is she?" Nick asked.

"With yours."

"And where's that?" Nick tested him.

"Don't you know where your wife is, Nick?"

"In Stockton."

"Oh, good. Then you do know. So what's the problem?"

"Laura is not supposed to be in Stockton. She's supposed to be upstairs resting." Nick growled.

"Did you tell her? Maybe she doesn't know that." Heath couldn't help the grin splitting his face.

Nick grabbed his hat and crushed it on his head. "Mount up!"

"Where are we going?" Heath followed Nick out.

"Stockton!"

* * * * * * * *

Jarrod sat at his desk in his Stockton office, working on his opening statement for Judge Williams about the custody of Sally Driscoll. In truth, he didn't have much hope in winning the argument, especially since he couldn't find a soul to take the responsibility of custody. Jarrod had spent the weekend calling on everyone he could think of who might possibly take in the poor woman, but had been unsuccessful. He hoped his statement to the Judge would somehow persuade the court to seek protection for Sally Driscoll in some place other than the women's section at San Quentin Prison. He had procured an affidavit from Doctor Agatha James about the fragile condition of his client. Jarrod hoped that would be enough to give him the edge he needed.

At first it sounded like children's voices, taunting one another, but the voices grew and what they said became audible enough to lure Jarrod from his comfortable chair. He was looking over the burgundy cafe curtain when his azure eyes beheld an unbelievable sight. Twenty or more women were marching behind District Attorney Philip Archer as he stalked towards the sheriff's office.

"FREE SALLY! FREE SALLY!" the women chanted.

Jarrod swallowed hard when he noticed leading the taunting women were none other than his two sisters-in-law. Jarrod raced out of his office like he had been shot out of a cannon. He ran as fast as he could to catch up to the now purple-faced lawyer. As the band of Stockton's fairer sex closed in on the sheriff's office, Sheriff Madden came out to greet them after hearing the ruckus.

"What in tarnation is goin' on here?!" Madden shouted as he braced himself in front of the office door. A curious street crowd began to gather. The usual business in the street stopped, even the ladies, in varied degrees of undress, from the Silver Slipper Saloon, gathered outside their rooms to watch the incredible scene.

"FREE SALLY! FREE SALLY!" The chant continued.

"Sheriff! I demand you arrest all these women! Right now!" Archer seethed.

Jarrod finally caught up to the crowd and stood beside his adversary. "Phil, what's going on here?" he asked coolly, his eyes twinkling.

"FREE SALLY! FREE SALLY!"

"Don't play innocent with me, Barkley! Don't you dare deny that you put these women up to this! And you mark my words, I don't care how many people in your family come after me. I won't be bullied! Not by you and certainly not by them!" Archer yelled as he pointed to the women behind him. "Arrest them, Sheriff! Now!"

"I had nothing to do with this!" Jarrod defended himself.

"Hah! I demand you arrest them, Sheriff! Starting with him!" Archer jerked a thumb toward Jarrod.

"Now hold on here. I want to know what's going on!" the sheriff shouted. "Just what are you women doing?"

All the ladies spoke at once, causing the sheriff to raise his hands up in surrender. "Now hold on there ladies. I can't make heads or tails outta whatcha all are saying. I need one of ya to talk! Now, who's it going to be?"

The women looked at Laura and Hope Barkley. Laura nodded an encouragement to Hope.

"Sheriff Madden," Hope Barkley began. "We women are protesting the unfair and unequal treatment of Sally Driscoll, who is unconstitutionally incarcerated in your establishment."

"Unconstitutionally?! What in tarnation are you women talkin' about? The woman is being held for on suspicion of murder," the sheriff qualified.

"The accused has been denied a speedy trial under the Constitution of the United States. Therefore, she is unconstitutionally being held." The women behind Hope began chanting:

"FREE SALLY."

"Oh for the love of... I don't have anything to do with that! You need to speak to her lawyer about it!" Sheriff Madden informed them. All the women looked toward Jarrod. Jarrod turned his head from side to side, first looking at the ladies, then looking at Archer and the Sheriff.

"Well, ladies, I certainly agree with you that Mrs. Driscoll has been denied a speedy trial guaranteed by our Constitution.." Jarrod began.

"Oh for the love of..., " Archer interrupted. "Sheriff, I demand you arrest all of them!"

"On what charge?" Jarrod demanded.

"Creating a public disturbance! Disrupting commerce! Anything! Just get them off the streets!"

"Have you ever heard of freedom of assembly, Mr. Archer? The constitutional right of the people to protest?" Hope charged.

"Mrs. Barkley," Archer began, in a condescending tone. "I don't blame you. No doubt your brother-in-law, Jarrod Barkley, has lured you into making a desperate plea on behalf of his client. I have no quarrel with you, madam. Don't you have children at home to attend to?" Archer tried to placate the petite woman with what he thought were tender words of concern.

"How kind of you to be so troubled about my children, Counselor, but I assure you my children are well cared for in my absence and as far as any man luring me into doing anything..." Hope gave a wry laugh. "You must be jesting, Sir."

The attorney could no longer hide his rage after that last remark. He was determined Jarrod Barkley was not going to best him again, no matter what trickery he was up to. "I've had my fill of all of you women! I demand you arrest them now, Sheriff!"

"Now wait just a minute, Phil. How can you expect the Sheriff to arrest all these women, when you yourself told me the Stockton Jail doesn't have adequate housing for women?" Jarrod asked lightheartedly.

Archer waved his finger under Jarrod's nose. "I know you put them up to this! I know you did!"

Laura Barkley pushed through the crowd and stood angrily beside the District Attorney. "Don't you dare go blaming Jarrod, you ill mannered, vile man! I was the one who organized this free assembly and you, Sir, are not only trouncing on Sally Driscoll's constitutional rights but you are trouncing on our rights as well. I have a good mind to sue you in Federal Court for this outrage!"

"Madam! I've just about lost my patience with you and your gaggle of witches! I know all about you! I have files on you, Laura Thomas Barkley! You've been arrested for protesting before! I knew it was only a matter of time before you caused problems again! Now, go home where you belong!"

Since becoming a district attorney several years before, Phil Archer collected criminal files on many Stockton residents like some people collected antiques. It was a hobby for him that at times proved quite fruitful when he had to prosecute a so called upstanding citizen. Sam Gruber, Editor of the Stockton Eagle was his chief supplier of much of his valuable information. It was a well known fact that Gruber had no love for any of the Barkleys, and he had files on every member of the Barkley clan, starting with Heath Barkley.

Every person in the crowd began to shout at once, many yelling their displeasure at the District Attorney and pushing themselves to get closer. The women were getting dangerously close to rioting, and no one took notice of the Sheriff trying to quell the crowd with his own shouting.

Nick and Heath heard the commotion before they saw it and rode as quickly as they dared toward the noise. Heath stood up in his stirrups. "Nick! Look! They're starting to turn into a mob."

The crowd began to crush around Phil Archer, shouting their angry protests. Hope was quick to notice Laura beginning to become frightened and shouted out to her, but the crowd's voices were too loud. Heath noticed the anguish in his wife's face and quickly dismounted, running towards Hope. Nick was hot on his trail when, to his horror, he saw Laura's now pale form swallowed up by they shouting mob.

"Stop! Stop!! You're going to hurt her! Stop!" Hope screamed. "HEATH!!"

Heath and Nick arrived at the same time. Jarrod had seen Laura fall into the crowd, and he rushed to shield her from the onslaught of arms and legs above her. Nick found Jarrod on his hands and knees over his now unconscious wife, and grabbing Jarrod's shoulders pulled him away. The two brothers picked Laura up, while Heath led his own wife to safety. The three brothers pushed through the crowd. Once away from the mob Jarrod relinquished his hold of Laura to Nick.

"Take her straight away to Agatha's! I'm going to stop this madness right now!" Jarrod shouted. Jarrod stood up next to the Sheriff and tried to quiet the mob. The Sheriff, in desperation, raised his gun in the air and fired. The mob quieted, some scrunched down for cover.

"Now you people are going to quiet down and go about your business peaceable, or so help me I'll arrest the lot of you!"

"Sheriff, please, let me talk to them. I think I can straighten this out," Jarrod begged. Once he received a nod from the Sheriff, he began to address the now quiet gathering. "Ladies, you are quite right to say that Mrs. Driscoll has been in jail far too long a time and has not received her due process, but with your help, I want to change that. If you'll bear with me."

Jarrod had the protesters' full attention and continued,

"One of the problems we have is the Stockton jail is not equipped to incarcerate a woman, and I plan to petition the court to release Mrs. Driscoll in the custody of a law abiding citizen. Now, it's obvious from your presence here that you care what happens to this poor woman, and I need someone here to take custody of Sally Driscoll until we are ready to go to trial." Jarrod studied the faces of the crowd. None would come forward. The women looked to one another for a volunteer.

District Attorney, Phil Archer sneered. "So much for the good, caring citizens of Stockton, Barkley. Just as I suspected, all bluster and show. What say you now, Counselor?"

"I'm not finished yet, Archer! Listen, please ladies. If someone doesn't come forward to take custody, Mrs. Driscoll will be relegated to the Women's Detention Center at San Quentin. Believe me, my client is too fragile to withstand such a harsh place. And she doesn't deserve it, because she's innocent. Won't one of you come forward? Please," he begged.

A woman's voice rose from the back. "My husband and I will be glad to take her in." Jarrod searched the crowd to find the sweet voice that spoke up and then smiled widely.

Part 38

'Why didn't I think of them before? A perfect solution.' Jarrod beamed. Archer scowled.

Heath took hold of his wife's hand and walked toward the boardwalk where Jarrod stood flanked by Sheriff Madden and Phil Archer.

"We'll be more than glad to take Mrs. Driscoll in. We have plenty of room if she's willing to accept us as her guardians," Heath added.

"I'm sure Mrs. Driscoll would happily accept." Jarrod still couldn't wipe the triumphant smile from his face. He knew that Judge Williams had a particular soft spot for Hope Barkley when she personally tutored his fifteen year old son in reading. Young Peter Williams was the Judge's only child and his very special joy. It pained him to see the child made sport of in school, because of his difficulty in reading, so the Judge attempted to teach him at home with little result until Hope Barkley took up the challenge.

Phil Archer also knew this fact, but his scowl was for an entirely different reason. When Hope Dougherty first arrived in Stockton to teach, Philip Archer was taken by her loveliness almost immediately. She reminded him of his own mother who was a petite woman and loved to teach music. He had set his sights on her the first time he had seen her on the train. She was traveling from San Francisco to Stockton. He sat in a seat behind her. He struck up a conversation with her when she stood to retrieve something in her satchel and aided her in bringing it down from the shelf above. He recalled the conversation.

* * * * * * * *

She was a tiny little thing, barely five foot two, but she was determined to bring her satchel down from above. This train trip was dreadfully long, and she needed her drawing pad and charcoals to occupy her nervous thoughts. She had traveled five thousand miles to take up a teaching position. How she missed her large family back in Boston. However, adventure lay before her, she had no doubt. This would be a whole new world to conquer. When the letter had come enquiring about a possible teacher for a primary school in Stockton, California, the headmistress of the all girls' college had been sure not one of her students would respond. But to the surprise of everyone at the school, Hope Dougherty had jumped at the chance. It was a happy coincidence that Hope's cousin, Laura Thomas, lived near Stockton, and if Hope had been a believer in Fate or Destiny, she couldn't have been more convinced the job was for her. As it was, Hope was a believer in the Will of God, and accepted the teaching position immediately.

"May I help you with that, Miss?"

"You're too kind. Thank you, Sir." She stepped aside to give him room.

"Not at all. My pleasure, Miss...?" He waited for an answer to his question.

"Dougherty. Hope Dougherty," she said as she adjusted her suit jacket over her traveling skirt.

"My name's Philip Archer. I'm an attorney." He tipped his hat and held her valise with the other hand.

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Archer." She took her valise from the man and settled it on the empty seat next to her. She hoped it would deter him from sitting near her. It didn't.

He took the seat across from her.

"Is your destination Stockton?"

"It is."

"Meeting family?"

"No."

"You have a distinct accent. Obviously you are not from around here. New York perhaps, or is it Boston? You have an Irish brogue if I'm not mistaken."

"Aye, Sir, you found me out."

"I have family in Boston on my mother's side." Archer offered that information.

Hope nodded with a wry smile. She wordlessly pulled out her papers and charcoals from her satchel and began to draw.

"Are you an art teacher? I see you have a fine hand." Archer pointed to the drawings he could see in the tablet.

"I am a teacher of many things. The art is for my own enjoyment to pass the time."

"Will you be teaching in Stockton?"

"If I am fortunate enough to be hired."

"Well, I know many important people in Stockton. I would be glad to give them a recommendation for you," Archer bragged.

"You're very kind. Thank you, Sir."

"Perhaps you will do me the honor of dining with me on your first evening in my hometown."

"Again, you are very kind, Mr. Archer, but I have a previous engagement with someone who is meeting me at the station. Perhaps you know the gentle lady, Mrs. Victoria Barkley?"

"Yes, I do. The Barkleys are well known in the Valley. Then you know them?"

"I haven't had the pleasure of meeting the Barkleys as yet, but I look forward to it."

Phil Archer stood, gave a slight bow and excused himself. Hope was delighted and relieved to find herself once again alone with her thoughts. She gave thanks to the Good Lord by pulling her prayer beads from her skirt pocket and reciting the Lord's Prayer in Latin.

* * * * * * * *

Judge Williams was most grateful to be relieved of this dilemma. He didn't relish the idea of sending Sally Driscoll to San Quentin. When Sheriff Madden had expressed his concerns about the woman in his jail, he had related how the poor woman cowered each time he had to arrest some rowdy on a drunken tear. It was obvious the woman was unreasonably terrified of men, and time spent in a prison occupied by male guards would only send the poor woman over the edge. The Judge knew he would have no choice because the District Attorney was determined, but when he heard from the rumor mill that Jarrod Barkley was trying to secure custody for Driscoll he secretly prayed Barkley would succeed.

Hope and Heath Barkley were heaven sent, most especially Hope. Judge Williams' respect for the lovely teacher knew no bounds. It was a problem for him to restrain a pleased smile when she walked into his courtroom. He thought of Hope Dougherty Barkley as the daughter he never had. Hope sat in the stand beside the Judge.

"And you are prepared to take on this responsibility, Mrs. Barkley?" the Judge asked.

"I am, Your Honor."

"And no one coerced you into this decision?"

"Not possible, Your Honor," Hope smiled at the Judge, who turned to hide a smile of his own behind his hand.

Archer walked toward the stand. He held a clipboard in his hands with several papers attached to it. "Mrs. Barkley, are you aware that this woman you are so eager to protect is an alleged murderess?"

"I am."

"And you don't see a problem with bringing her into your home with your children?"

"She is alleged to have murdered a man, not children." Hope answered dryly.

"And you have no qualms about her being under the same roof with your husband?"

"My husband is more than capable of taking care of himself."

"You and your husband seemed to have a penchant for taking in strays." Archer began with a new tactic.

"I beg your pardon. I don't understand." Hope answered.

"Well, according to my files," Archer flipped through the stack of papers on his clipboard. "You took in a young street urchin named Gabriel Royce. Is that correct?"

"No, Sir, it is not correct. Gabriel is not a street urchin but an orphan, and yes, we took him in."

"May I ask why?"

"You may. Gabriel is too old for the orphanage so he is living with us until he learns a trade and is old enough to care for himself."

"A trade? And exactly what trade is he learning on the Barkley Ranch? To be a cowhand?" Archer was caught in a sneer.

"No, to be master builder of furniture."

"And who, pray tell, is teaching him that?"

"Why, my husband of course."

Your husband, Heath Barkley, is a master builder of furniture? I thought he was a rancher."

"Yes, he's that too."

"And what would qualify him to teach someone to be a master furniture builder if he is a rancher?"

"He built all the furniture in our house. He also built our house. I would say that qualifies him to teach the trade of building. Wouldn't you?" Hope qualified.

"I think we're getting away from the subject. As I asked before, you and your husband have a habit of taking in derelicts and strays. I would like to know why? Are you some bleeding heart who takes all types into your home?" Archer asked haughtily.

"Are you aware, Counselor, where the term bleeding heart came from?" Hope countered.

"I beg your pardon?"

"The term, bleeding heart. It came from our own Lord Jesus Christ. He was often referred to as a bleeding heart. So, when you call my husband and I bleeding hearts, you do us more justice than we deserve. You see, we are firm believers in the words our Savior taught us: 'Whatsoever you do to the least of my brethren, you do unto Me.' So in that, I would say you are correct. We are guilty of taking in strays and derelicts, Sir."

Archer knew he was defeated. Hope Barkley was clever and twisted his words to serve herself, and he admired her more than he cared to admit. She was a force to be reckoned with, but, as clever as she was, he never did fathom what she saw in Heath Barkley. He was beneath the brilliant woman, at least that is what Philip Archer thought. He never understood women who would marry beneath their station in life. His own mother had done the same. Lydia Rice had been the toast of Boston society and she was courted by its most eligible gentlemen. She could have married a Congressman or Senator, but instead she chose a lowly court clerk, his father. Philip Archer would never understand women like that. "No more questions, Your Honor."

"Mr. Barkley, would you care to re-direct?"

Jarrod stood smiling like a cat who ate the canary. He couldn't wait to share his good news with the rest of his family, with Sally Driscoll and, yes, with Agatha. For some reason, and he truly didn't know why, but he wanted to share the good news with Agatha James. 'I worked with her on the Driscoll case, that's why,' he told himself. They had spent many long hours thinking of ways they could get Sally to talk, so of course he wanted to share the good news with her! Why wouldn't he? "I have no more questions for this witness, Your Honor." Jarrod couldn't help giving his sister-in-law a proud wink.

* * * * * * * *

Nick anxiously waited for the doctor to finish the examination. His heart had caught in his throat, and he had forgotten to breathe when he had seen his wife collapse into the angry mob. The fearful thoughts that overtook him were too horrible to bear, and he could actually feel himself trembling. The front door swung opened announcing Heath and Hope's entrance.

"Nick, is Laura all right? Have you heard anything?" Hope rushed out.

"No, nothing. Where did you two run off to? I thought you were right behind us," Nick asked.

"We were, but Jarrod needed our help." Heath answered.

"Why, what's wrong? Did he get hurt in that mob too?"

"No, he's fine. The mob's gone. Everything's under control." Heath assured him.

Nick began pacing and threading nervous fingers through his hair. Finally, he stopped in front of his sister-in-law. "Hope, what the hell was going on out there?! What was that all about? All those women acting crazy and you and Laura in the middle of it! Blast it! What were you two thinking?!"

Hope clasped Nick's arm to get him to stop pacing. "Please, Nick, calm yourself. We organized a rally to protest Sally Driscoll's unfair incarceration."

"The two of you risked your lives and the life of my unborn child for some woman who killed her husband?! Are you two crazy?!" He began to pace again.

"Nick, please. Listen to me. What happened was unfortunate. It wasn't meant to happen. Now, let's not go borrowing trouble. We'll wait with you until the doctor comes out."

Jarrod was so excited about the custody battle that he had forgotten about what happened to Laura until he walked into the doctor's office and saw the long faces of his family. "Agatha, I... Oh, I'm sorry, I-. How's Laura?"

"We're still waiting," Heath answered as he leaned near a glass medicine cabinet.

Jarrod smiled as he moved over to Hope and hugged her. "I can't thank you enough for what you and Heath did."

"You've thanked us enough, Jarrod, really." Hope smiled as she accepted his hug.

"What did I miss?" Nick asked suspiciously.

"Hope and I are taking custody of Sally Driscoll. Archer wanted to send her to San Quentin to await trial and Jarrod talked the Judge into letting us take Sally in," Heath answered.

"Ohh, wait a minute, now I get it. This whole thing was cooked up by you women, wasn't it?"

Nick walked toward Hope, towering over her. His legs were braced apart and his hands were on his hips. Hope had to lean back to look Nick in the eye.

"Aye, what of it?" Hope challenged as she mocked his stance with her own smaller version.

"You Barkley women are going to be the death of me!"

"Tis a fair statement, Nicholas, but you'll die with a smile on that now scowling face of yours, I'll wager." Hope tapped Nick lightly across the face then placed the same hand on his chest to give him a shove. "Now, be gone with you! I have work to see to." She skirted around him and knocked on the examination door. "Aggie, it's Hope. Do you need my help in there?"

"No, I'm done here. I'll be out in a minute," Agatha called out.

Everyone in the waiting room held their breath as they stared at the closed door. Several minutes had passed before Doctor James entered the waiting room. She looked directly at Nick. "You can go in now, Nick. Please don't upset her."

"Is the baby...?"

"Everything is fine for the moment, but I want you to understand, if your wife is to carry this baby to full term she needs lots of rest. You're going to have to confine her to the house. These next few months will be critical. You're going to have to hire a nurse to look after her from here on in."

"Consider it done," Nick promised.

Entering the room, Nick was overtaken with memories of the last time he'd been in the room. Laura lay on the same bed, looking just as small and vulnerable as she had when she'd been brought here after her kidnapping ordeal. He strode to her side, shaking off the feelings. She was weeping. He forced a smile.

"I'm sorry, Nick."

"Shhh, no need. Everything is going to be all right. I promise."

"I almost lost our baby, Nick. You should be angry with me," she choked out between sobs. They had waited so long to conceive another child and she felt guilty over her thoughtless actions. She fully expected Nick to yell at her. She knew well that she deserved his wrath, but instead, silence. She feared his silences worse of all.

Nick said nothing, biting back the words, keeping in mind the doctor's warning about upsetting her. Instead, he pulled her into his arms and gently kissed her tears away, wondering how in the world they were going to get through the next few months.

Part 39

Heath made sure to give Sally Driscoll a wide berth when he opened the door to his home. The woman was painfully shy and fearful of all men. He made a mental note to keep a respectful distance from the pitiful woman at all times.

"Welcome to our home, Sally," Hope smiled as she pulled off her shawl and hung it up by the door. Maria, the baby nurse, greeted them, holding both children in her ample arms.

"Ah, Senora, los bebés son comió. Iba ahora a bañarlos."

"Oh good, Maria. I'll see to the task of bathing them once we've introduced them to our guest," Hope said as she took one of the children from Maria. "Sally, this is our son, Michael, and his sister, Leah. Maria helps me with the babies. Maria, this is Mrs. Driscoll."

Maria smiled and nodded. Sally nodded back, but didn't return the smile.

Maybe Sally would like to see her room, Hope?" Heath suggested, still holding a small paper sack with Sally's belongings.

"Oh, yes, of course." Hope placed the baby on her hip and moved toward the stairs. "Your room is upstairs, Sally. I hope you find it comfortable. Heath, darling, why don't you give

Sally's belongings to her? I'm sure she can manage."

"Sure thing. Here ya go, Sally." Heath extended his arm out and watched as Sally tentatively took the sack from his hand. Without a word, she quickly turned and followed Hope upstairs.

Maria, still holding Leah, shrugged at Heath. "Que mal con la señora?"

Heath took Leah from the nurse's arms. "Nothing's wrong, Maria. La señora es tímida." Maria mumbled under her breath, nodded, then went on with her duties. Heath cooed to his daughter.

"We're just gonna have to be patient, ain't that right, Papa's sweet girl?" The baby smiled widely at her father and tugged at his nose with chubby fingers. Heath pulled her hand away and kissed it.

"Boy howdy, little gal, you sure are ready for a bath, huh? Why, you got all kinds of food in those golden curls of yours."

"Pop, pop, pop," the child babbled while trying to grab Heath's nose again.

"Now, if you keep trying to take my nose, I'm just gonna have ta take yours for safekeeping," Heath warned. He pretended to snatch the child's nose and showed her the tip of his thumb stuck out between his fist. "Now, you see that, little gal? Pop's got your nose now. Whatcha think about that? I got it all, right there. Come on, let's see to that bath. You're starting to smell like your Uncle Nick after a week long cattle drive."

The child started giggling as her father playfully bounced her in his arms.

* * * * * * * *

Sally stared wide-eyed at the large room. It was beautifully appointed with brightly colored quilts and needlepoint pillows adorning the bed. The cherry wood bed had a highly polished sheen to it, and a bouquet of wild flowers was carved into an oval on the headboard. A well stuffed rocking chair decorated with flowered needlepoint stood beside it. Soft yellow muslin curtains decorated two large windows that overlooked a backyard garden. Sally stared out the window watching a rabbit stealing a lone forgotten carrot in the garden.

"I hope you like your room, Sally," Hope said while she stood by the opened doorway and wiped the drool from her baby's grinning face with her thumb.

"My room? This-, this is all mine?" Sally stammered as she turned away from the window.

"It is, for as long as you're here. Now, I will tell you what Judge Williams instructed. You are to stay within the confines of this property. As long as we know where you are at all times, you are free to move about the ranch."

"I can go outside?" she asked surprised.

"Of course. We have a small garden out back. The sunshine will do you good. Do you like to garden?"

"I haven't in years. I used to help my mother plant vegetables."

"Well, most of our vegetables are in, but we still have some pumpkins outside. I'm hoping to make some pumpkin bread this week. Do you like to bake, Sally?"

"I love to bake. Never had much time to bake though, other than bread." Sally spoke as she slowly walked around the room.

"Well, I could always use a helping hand," Hope invited. "Heath likes to clean out the pumpkin seeds. He loves to eat them roasted. He often takes them in his saddlebags as a treat when he's working out on the range.

"Do you mind if I sit on this?" Sally pointed to the rocking chair.

"Everything here is for you to use, Sally. Please feel free."

Sally sat gingerly on the rocking chair. Her work-worn hands glided lovingly over the intricate needlework on the padded arm of the chair. "It's so beautiful here. I don't know how to thank you, Mrs. Barkley."

"Please call me Hope. My mother-in-law is Mrs. Barkley. The rest of us go by first names. Less confusion that way with so many Barkleys about." Hope turned her attention to the babe in her arms. "Isn't that right, Michael Jenkins Barkley? So many Barkleys! Yes, my love! And more on the way! Yes, your cousin, that's right, my boy, isn't it?" Hope bounced the child on her hip and talked to him in a sing-song voice.

Sally smiled shyly for the first time as she watched the young woman play with her son. Hope Dougherty Barkley was a small woman of five feet, two inches. She had long soft brown hair that she kept pulled back in two small buns at the nape of her neck. A snood that matched her dress held her hair in place. She was twenty years old but looked like a young girl, and her light brown eyes showed signs of well taught intelligence. Hope noticed Sally's smile. "Would you like to hold him for a while, Sally?"

"Oh no, I'm afraid I would drop him," she declined, shaking her head.

"Michael's pretty sturdy. I don't think he'll be in any danger." Hope walked over to the woman and placed Michael on her lap.

Sally grasped him firmly for fear she would drop the child. "Goodness, he's so soft and round."

"Aye, he's that, and a good eater like his father. He'd pretty much eat anything you put before him. It's his twin sister, Leah, who's a mite picky with her food. She has to smell everything before she eats it."

Sally kissed the blond ringlets that crowned his head. "He's beautiful." She marveled at the child's beautiful blue eyes and sweet disposition. She thought she would have been content to hold him forever.

"Thank you. Still, as beautiful as he is, he's in need of a bath." Hope leaned down to take the child again.

"Thank you for letting me hold him."

"You're welcome. Why don't you rest before supper? Get settled in. I'll see you later."

Hope left the room, closing the door behind her. When Sally didn't hear it lock she rushed to the door and opened it. "You didn't lock it!" she called out to Hope in a panic. Hope turned at the top of the stairs.

"It locks from the inside, Sally. You'll be safe here, I promise you." Hope continued down the stairs. She heard the door lock behind her.

Hope found Heath already bathing Leah in the nursery. "You're already one ahead of me, Heath."

"I have to be, to be married to you, Darlin'," Heath teased with a wink. "I've set up the bathtub for Michael as well."

"Thank you, Love." Hope brought Michael over to a waist high dressing table which held a quilted cotton padding on top. It was one of the many baby furnishings Heath had made for her. Because of his wife's diminutive height he made it to her size. Heath was making one for his sister-in-law, Laura, as a Christmas gift. It was several inches higher to accommodate her height.

"How's Sally settling in?" Heath wondered out loud.

"The oddest thing, poor soul." Hope began as she pulled the baby's shirt over his head. "She expected us to lock her in her room. I told Sally the door locked from her side, and she was safe here. She promptly locked the door."

"She's been in jail a long time. Not used to being free."

"Tis true. Jarrod told me Sally feels safe when she's locked in."

A young man's voice called out from the front room. "Hey, where is everyone? I'm home!"

"In here, Rusty!" Heath called out.

A redheaded young man joined them in the nursery. The freckle faced fifteen year old was tall for his age, coming up past Heath's shoulder. He had a habit of constantly pushing back his russet hair because it always fell in his eyes. Rusty's real name was Gabriel Royce, but he hated the name Gabriel, preferring to be called Rusty.

"How was school today, Rusty?" Hope asked as she washed the baby's hair.

"Fine. Didn't get in trouble or have fights."

"Well, there's a plus," Heath grinned. "Get me that towel, will ya?"

"Listen, Rusty," Hope began. "We have a guest in the house. Her name is Sally, and I want you to be very cordial and patient with her. She's a bit shy so you must be careful."

"Careful?"

"Yeah, don't go bounding around. Keep things a bit quiet. She's a bit... shy ya might say." Heath went on.

"Sure. When's supper?"

"You know the answer to that, Boy: after you do you homework and chores." Heath added.

"I chopped all the firewood this morning, Heath. Honest."

"I know ya did. I saw it. You can bring it in for the stove before you start your homework, now."

"And I want to check your homework once it's done, Rusty," Hope added.

"Yes, ma'am," Rusty said on his way out the door.

Heath took the baby and patted her dry. "Well now, look at you all brand spanking new! Let's get your diapers on and a nice warm nightgown and you'll be all pretty." Heath held the towel dry baby up and nuzzled her under her chin with a kiss. "Now, that's Papa's pretty gal, all fresh, pink and powdered."

"And your brother will be right behind you, little girl. Heath, will you pass me the towel?"

"Sure, darlin'." Heath held the squirming baby in his arms as he handed a towel to his wife.

"Hope?"

"Yes, Love?"

"You called Sally a guest. Is she a guest?'

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you think it might be a good idea if she had some chores to do?"

"Ahh, Heath, you're getting ahead of me again. I thought we would start on that tomorrow. Sally seemed to be interested in gardening. I thought she might tackle that to occupy her thoughts."

"Good idea, Darlin'. Glad I thought of it." Heath leaned down to give Hope a gentle kiss on the lips. "You know, I think I'm going to start planning to add a few more rooms to this house."

"And why is that? We've got nine rooms. Thinking to building us a castle, are you?"

"No, but with all the strays and derelicts my good wife takes in, we'll be needing more. Not to mention the dozen children we're going to have."

She smiled and shook her finger under Heath's nose. "Now you get that twinkle out of your eye, Heath Barkley. I want these children weaned and out of diapers before that's to be happening," Hope warned.

"Aye, my Irish lass. We'll talk about this later, at night, alone, in bed. When the troops are asleep." Heath kissed the tip of her nose.

"Be off with you, husband. I have dinner to cook. And take the wee ones with you." She placed Michael in his father's free arm. Heath took his children to play on the parlor floor, as was his custom to tire them out before bed.

* * * * * * * *

Once the children were tucked in bed the rest of the family sat down to eat. Sally Driscoll sat quietly at the dinner table taking in everything she saw. Maria, the baby nurse, had gone home to her own family. Sally sat across from young Rusty. Heath, Hope and Rusty had talked about the day's events amicably while Sally listened but didn't add a word to the conversation. She nervously picked at her meal. When dinner was done, Hope and Heath cleared the dishes after sending Rusty off to finish the rest of his homework. Sally offered to wash the dishes, but Hope insisted that for today, she was their guest.

"Sally, if you would like to read, we have some books in the parlor you might enjoy," Hope offered. "If you find something interesting, you can take it upstairs to your room."

"Thank you." Sally began to walk toward the parlor but stopped when she saw an odd sight.

Hope's husband, Heath, began washing the dishes. Hope stood by his side to dry them.

"Ahh. It's my turn to wash," Heath said with a teasing glance. Hope laughed at him. "You love to play with soapy water."

Heath placed a soap bubble on his wife's nose with a tap of his finger, then kissed her cheek.

"A good soak in soapy water takes the dirt out from under my fingernails. It drives Nick crazy when he sees my clean fingernails. He can't figure out how I can get them so clean."

"You're incorrigible. You can't resist teasing your brother."

"Why should I? It breaks up the work day. 'Sides, Nick enjoys it too." Hope smiled as she took a wet glass from her husband to dry. The glass slipped out of her hand and crashed to the floor, shattering in jagged shards. Sally gasped, bringing her hands up to cover her mouth. Her eyes bored into Heath, expecting a violent reaction.

"Oh dear," Hope exclaimed. Heath quickly wiped his hands on his pants and protectively nudged his wife away from the broken glass.

"Don't you dare pick it up," Heath warned. "Let me get my work gloves, and I'll pick up the pieces." Heath quickly moved to retrieve his work gloves from the foyer. He came back and bent down at Hope's feet to pick up the shards of glass.

"I'll get you a newspaper to wrap it in, Love." Hope walked by Sally and stopped when she saw the fear in her eyes. "Sally, are you well? What's wrong?"

"He-, he-, he didn't beat you," Sally stammered in a shaky voice.

"Beat me? Why on earth would Heath do that? Because of a broken glass?"

Sally nodded affirmatively, her face reflecting a new pallor. Heath and Hope gave each other a questioning glance before Hope turned her attention back to their house guest. "Sally, did your husband beat you for breaking dishes?" Sally shook her head no, then picked up her skirts and flew up the stairs.

* * * * * * * *

The following day, Hope was in the garden pulling out some of the herbs she would use for dinner when Sally walked outside. Hope rose up from her bent over position to greet the woman. "Hello, Sally. Would you like to help me?"

"Yes, ma'am, I would. What do you want me to do?" She stood at attention as if waiting for orders.

"Well, you can gather up a pumpkin or two for the pumpkin bread I promised to bake today."

Sally immediately set about the task of choosing the two best pumpkins she could find. Hope watched her, pleased to see Sally's enthusiasm take hold, finally.

"You mentioned before that you enjoyed baking. Did you learn it at your ma's knee?" Hope said, trying to draw Sally into a conversation.

"Yes. My ma was a wonderful cook. She used to sell her pies and cakes to the townsfolk to make extra money. I always helped her." She wiped the dirt off the pumpkin with the sleeve of her dress.

"Where's home for you, Sally?"

"Arizona."

"Really? My cousin, Laura, is originally from Arizona."

"Yes, I know. Mrs. Barkley told me."

"Mrs. Barkley?" Hope asked.

"Carol, my lawyer, may she rest in peace." Sally made a quick sign of the cross, and Hope followed suit.

"Aye, poor dear Carol. She was a fine woman. Tell me, have you met Laura? The woman I spoke about before?"

"No, but I've seen her when she was in the Stockton Library. I sometimes went there to borrow a book."

The two women headed into the house with their garden produce. "Do you like to read?"

"Oh, yes. I would read when Sam wasn't home."

"To pass the time?"

"Oh, no. Sam didn't like to see me reading. One time he came home and saw me reading, he pulled the book from my hands and tore it. It was a library book. I was so ashamed." Sally wiped new tears from her eyes with her sleeve. "I offered to pay for the book, but the lady at the library wouldn't accept it. But when I had enough, I gave them a donation. I know the library is always looking for donations to buy more books."

"Tis true, they're always looking for donations. They will be having a donation booth at the Harvest Festival again this weekend. Laura won't be running the booth, so I offered to help Dora Hamon. She's the head librarian. Maybe you can help us as well. Would you like that, Sally?"

"Won't you be ashamed to be seen in public with the likes of me?"

"Not at all. Why would I be?"

"Cuz people say I-, I killed my husband."

"Did you? Did you kill your husband? Or was it self defense? Was he hurting you at the time, Sally?"

Sally quickly changed the subject. "If you want, I can wash these pumpkins and clean them out. I'll be sure not to throw out the seeds. Wouldn't want you to get in trouble for not keeping them for your husband to roast."

"Thank you, Sally," Hope said with a sigh as she watched the woman turn away. Jarrod asked her to try to get what information she could from Sally. He was desperate to get any small item that would help in Sally Driscoll's defense, but Sally had consistently refused to speak about the night her husband died.

The sound of a horse coming up the road caught Hope's attention. She went outside and stood on the porch to greet the visitor.

Nick dismounted and tied Hero to the hitching post. He pulled off his hat and gave Hope a smile.

"Hi, Tidbit." Nick leaned down to give her a peck on the cheek.

"Well, Nick. You're in a better mood today. I suspect Laura is the reason. She's well then?"

"No, she's not well. She's in bed, resting, but that pleases me because I know where she is." Nick's dimple flashed as he gave her a wide, teasing smile.

Hope laughed and sat down on a porch swing. Nick sat across from her on the railing with one leg dangling. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve, then replaced his hat.

"So I take it my dear cousin is behaving?" Hope inquired.

"For now, but I'm getting her a guard."

"A what?"

Nick laughed. "I hired me a nurse. A woman Silas recommended from his church. He assured me she would take no guff from my sweet wife."

"And who is this paragon of virtue who is willing to take on the stubborn wife of Nick Barkley?" Hope teased lightheartedly.

"Her name is Etta Lewis, and she's going to be staying with us, at least until the baby's born," Nick said, pleased with himself. "I've spoken with her, and she's just what the doctor ordered."

"Well, I'm glad of that. I wish dear Silas had another magical rabbit he could pull out of his hat for us."

"Why? What's the problem?"

Hope glanced behind her to make sure the front door was closed, then leaned over to speak quietly. "It's our boarder. Jarrod wants us to get her to talk about what happened the night her husband died, but every time I think she's going to speak about it, she changes the subject or locks herself in her room."

"How does Heath fare with her?"

"Your brother has been keeping his distance. She's so fearful of men."

"Hmm, that's too bad. Heath could get a dead man to talk if he put his mind to it."

"Aye, tis truth you speak, Nicholas." Hope agreed with a smile. Nick returned the smile and stood up.

"I'd better be on my way. You take my advice, Tidbit. Have Heath talk to her. He's really good at gentling wild horses, you know." Nick prepared to mount his horse with a grin playing across his face.

"Are you daring to compare women to horses, Nicholas Barkley?" Hope stood with her hands on her hips and gave him her best glare.

"Nope. Horses are reasonable." He gave her a wink before he rode off.

Part 40

Agatha James' gray eyes looked down on the festivities with longing. The citizens of Stockton were dressed in their finest; many carrying picnic baskets, craft and food donations. Colorful tents were set up at the edge of town to celebrate Stockton's Annual Harvest Festival. She could hear the laughter of children as they ran and played in the streets, mingling with the orphans Padre Sanchez had brought in a large wagon the children had decorated with orange and green banners. Hope Barkley had encouraged Padre Sanchez some years before to let the children sell crafts at the Harvest Festival to earn money for themselves. It had proven to be quite a success, and the children looked forward to the festival every year.

"Agatha, did you hear me?" Jarrod's voice brought the lady doctor out of her reverie. She turned from the law office window to see Jarrod bent over his desk, shuffling papers.

"I'm sorry, Jarrod. Forgive me, I wasn't listening," she apologized. Jarrod moved toward the window and stood by her, looking out.

"Now just what has piqued your interest out there, that it would take you away from me and my dusty law books?" He gave her a teasing smile.

"I was watching the people going to the Harvest Festival. It reminded me of the gatherings we use to have back home."

"What kind of gatherings?"

"Oh, small gatherings, not anything like you have here. In Seattle, though, we were always having some kind of party. Whenever someone got married the whole town would celebrate. Everyone would bring out their finest dishes and glassware, and everyone brought food. Sometimes the party would last for days, or at least until the food ran out."

"It sounds like fun." Jarrod and Agatha stared at each other, smiling, until Jarrod cleared his throat nervously and moved away. "Well, as I was saying, I seem to have misplaced Sally's medical records. I wonder if you could find them for me, please?" Jarrod sat at his desk.

"Oh, of course." Agatha quickly moved to the desk and self-consciously shuffled papers and files around until she found the correct one. "Is this what you want?" She handed him a single sheet of paper.

"Is that the report of Sally's physical exam after she was arrested?" Jarrod took the sheet from her.

"Yes, but you've seen it before. There isn't anything new there."

"I know, but maybe there's something I missed. What else is in her medical folder?" The good doctor hated to have her medical files incomplete, so rather than bring just a portion, she had brought the entire file with her to Jarrod's office.

"Now, the rest is confidential. I can't divulge my patient's medical history! You only asked to see the documents pertaining to the examination she was given soon after she was arrested."

"You mean you've examined her more than once since she's been in jail?"

"Yes, of course I have."

"And I haven't seen them?"

"No, you haven't, and you're not going to!" Agatha gathered up the rest of the papers in the folder and held them to her bosom.

Jarrod stood again, and glared at her. "Now wait a minute here. I subpoenaed those medical records."

"Oh no, I beg to differ. The subpoena specifically asked for the examination records immediately after Sally Driscoll's arrest, and I complied with that."

Jarrod rounded the corner of his desk toward her and shook his finger in the air. "Oh, no, no, no. I asked for all her medical records since you became her physician, Doctor. Now, I insist-."

Agatha backed away from his advance. "Oh no, you didn't, and you're not seeing any of these records! If you want more, you'll have to have a new subpoena issued!"

"Oh no, I'm not!" He edged closer. She moved away.

"Oh yes, you are!"

"I subpoenaed all of them, Doctor James, and I will have all of them!" He continued to edge closer, gliding like a panther ready to pounce. Agatha held the files up like a shield to her breast, her heart pounded against her chest as she backed away, only to find herself trapped, pinned against the wall.

"If you want the rest, Mister Barkley you will have to subpoena them, or risk a fight on your hands, Sir! I will NOT break Doctor/Patient confidentiality! You, as a lawyer, should know how sacred that bond is. You wouldn't break your Attorney/Client privilege for anything!"

Jarrod stopped his advance, backed away, and placed his thumbs in his vest pockets. He shook his head. "Very well, Doctor. If you insist, I will speak to Judge Williams. Of course, I'll have to disturb him and his son while they are enjoying the festivities outside. He'll be none too pleased with me. Especially since I already subpoenaed all those medical records!" Jarrod's voice flared angrily at his last sentence.

"You did not!" Agatha argued.

"I did!" Jarrod spat back. He again advance on her. Agatha slowly retreated, sliding sideways against the wall. He slapped his right hand against the wall to block any further movement. "You are the most stubborn woman I've have come across in some time! You know perfectly well I should see all those records. I hired you to help me set Sally free, and now you're standing in my way just as much Phil Archer is!"

Agatha stamped her foot and threw the file folder on the floor. Outrage visible in every line of her being, the sheaf of papers in the file cascaded across the floor unheeded as she glared at the attorney. "That's a blatant lie, and I resent being compared to that odious man! I've bent over backwards helping you! I've spent hours here as well as my own office neglecting my duties, to help you win this damnable case! Often going without food because you were so wrapped up in this cause you ignored your own health, as well as mine, I might add!"

"You're hungry?" Jarrod's voice softened and he backed away from her.

"What?"

"You're hungry. You said you were hungry. Is that why you are being so uncooperative?

Because I've ignored your wants and needs." A wry grin played on Jarrod's face.

"I have no wants or needs that you have to satisfy! I can satisfy my own needs. I certainly don't need you for that task!" She prayed he couldn't see the bald-faced lie for what it was.

"Don't you, Doctor?" Jarrod moved closer again. Agatha found her back against the wall again. His face was now only inches from hers. Jarrod's heart began to slam wildly against his chest. Why hadn't he noticed the emerald green flecks in her soft gray eyes before? They mesmerized him.

She was trapped by the power of his brilliant blue eyes. His gaze bored into her. She knew he could see right into her heart, her soul, the very core of her being. She was lost, his for the taking. Her knees felt weak, and she braced her damp palms against the smooth paneling, trying to find an anchor. She forgot to breath, and knew, if he took one step closer, she'd faint right away. 'My God, he's so handsome!'

He came closer. She looked as if she might faint. One hand flattened against the wall by her head, the other came up, and his thumb caressed her full bottom lip. His thumb trailed a line on her bottom lip. 'My God,' he thought, 'they feel so soft, they looked so sweet, so pink, so kissable.'

Jarrod couldn't stop himself. He brushed his lips lightly against hers. It wasn't enough. He wanted more. He needed more. His hands came to cup her cheeks, and he used his thumb to gently force her lips open. His mouth captured her gasp as his tongue invaded. 'Heaven,' he thought.

'Paradise.' She thought she was in Paradise. Her senses clamored, and she wanted to return his gift in kind. She needed to give, and she did. Her tongue dueled with his, and the joy she felt was exquisite. 'My God,' she thought, knowing he had only to ask and she would willingly give herself to him.

His body moved closer to hers, pressing her against the wall. Her arms seemed to move of their own volition as her hands came up to bury themselves in his hair. His arms came around her, bringing her more solidly against him. His mouth slanted over hers again and again, and he widened his stance to maintain his balance. The movement caused the papers on the floor to rustle loudly under his shoes. The sound brought them both back to reality.

Reluctantly, he had to tear his gaze away from her swollen, tempting lips, and when he did, he saw the strewn papers and fell upon them. Agatha sagged against the wall, keeping her eyes closed, trying to catch her breath. Her head lolled as if in a drunken stupor. She didn't see Jarrod kneel down to retrieve the papers. His eyes beheld one particular report that had a body graphic detailing various injuries on the subject of one Sally Driscoll. Jarrod gasped at what his eyes' witnessed.

The sound he made alerted Agatha, and she looked down at her feet. Immediately she recognized the papers Jarrod held in his hands. "Does this mean what I think it means?" Jarrod remarked. The shock evident in his voice.

"Those papers are not meant for your eyes, Jarrod!" Agatha quickly knelt down beside him and tried to pull the papers out of his hands, but he resisted.

"It says in your report these injuries looked to be only a month or two old. Is that true?"

"I can't answer that! That's privileged information! Please, Jarrod! Give me those papers!"

"Then I'll put her on the stand! I'll ask her straight out! I promise you I will!"

"She won't admit it. She wouldn't to me, and she certainly won't in a court of law! You know as well as I do she would never hold up to questioning on the stand."

"She has no choice. I have to put her on the stand."

"Jarrod, you can't! It will be a travesty if you do!"

"It will be a travesty if I don't. Archer will win. He's right you know; I don't have a defense! But with this new evidence I can win! I know I can! All you have to do is corroborate this evidence

once I place you on the stand."

"Please, Jarrod. I can't allow you to do this. I can only testify to what has been subpoenaed and you can't subpoena this. Please, don't." Tears quickly filled Agatha's eyes as she pleaded with him. "You know as well as I do it's not a crime for a husband to rape his wife."

Jarrod slumped to sit on the floor, tears welling in his eyes. The bewildered compassion Agatha saw there caused her heart to break. Her hand came up to caress the back of his head. "My God," he whispered. "How can a man do this to the woman he professes to love?"

Agatha leaned her forehead against his and wept.

* * * * * * * *

Heath and his family were already ensconced at the Stockton Library donation booth. Sally, Hope and Rusty had finished setting up the booth with a basket for book donations and another for money. Heath had placed a small tent behind the booth so Hope could feed the children in private. The twins, Michael and Leah both slept in a large double wicker carriage inside the tent after their feeding. Heath had tied the tent flaps down to keep out some of the noise of the festival, and he sat in front of the tent in a canvas chair waiting for someone to relieve him of his sentry duty.

A familiar voice called out. "Heath!" Heath stood up when he saw his mother approach carrying a picnic basket.

Young Colleen skipped ahead of her grandmother and jumped into her Uncle's arms for a hug. "Uncle Silas let me help him bake raisin cookies! It was so much fun, Uncle Heath. Do you want one?"

Heath held his niece in his arms and kissed her cheek. "Well, it's kinda early to have cookies, maybe after our picnic."

"Where's Hope?" Victoria asked after accepting a kiss on the cheek from her son.

"She went to check out the judging for her pumpkin bread."

"I know she has a chance this year. Her pumpkin bread is so delicious." Victoria replied, then she nodded over to the woman standing behind the book booth. "Is that Mrs. Driscoll, whom I've heard so much about?"

"Yes, that's her. We been calling her Miss Sally though. Hope thought it was best for Miss Sally's self-confidence. Want me to introduce you?"

"Yes, please." Victoria placed her picnic basket in the tent. She gave her two grandchildren a smiling peek then went outside the tent. "Those children grow bigger and bigger every time I see them, Heath. So sweet, sleeping like little lambs."

Heath smiled in agreement then moved the few feet away from his post to introduce his mother to Sally Driscoll. Sally leaned over the makeshift counter concentrating on the book she was reading and trying to ignore the festivities around her. Rusty sat in a chair nearby. Heath put Colleen down, and she immediately ran over to Rusty to hug him.

"Hey, Squirt!" Rusty greeted the child with a big smile and a hug. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm with Grandlee. Mama's home sick and Papa's looking after her." Rusty tipped his hat to Mrs. Barkley in greeting.

"My goodness, Rusty, every time I see you, you've seem to have grown a foot taller," Victoria smiled.

"It's all the good food Mrs. Barkley feeds me," Rusty grinned.

"Yeah, he'll eat us out of house and home if we don't watch this boy," Heath laughed and gave the boy an affectionate slap on the back.

"Rusty, take me to see the other tents? Please?" Colleen pleaded. Rusty looked at Victoria, and she nodded her approval.

"Go on, but don't be too long, we'll be eating soon."

"Yes, Grandlee!" Colleen shouted over her shoulder as she took the young man's hand.

"Miss Sally, I want you to meet my mother, Victoria Barkley. Mother, this is Miss Sally."

Victoria took the woman's hand and shook it gently. "How very nice to meet you, Miss Sally."

"Hello, Ma'am."

"Are you enjoying yourself here, Miss Sally?" Victoria asked.

"Yes, Ma'am. Never been before."

"Really? You mean you never attended the Harvest Festival?"

"No, Ma'am, too busy working. Always had piles of laundry to catch up on," Sally added.

"Well, I am certainly glad you're enjoying it now." One of the children in the tent began to cry and Heath moved toward it, but Victoria stopped him by touching his arm. "Let me go, Heath. I would love to spend some time with my grandchildren. You stay here and look after Sally."

Heath nodded his assent to her and leaned against the booth, watching the crowd mill about. Many of the families had picnic baskets and were making their way to the picnic grounds near a large opened tent that was set up for dancing later. Children of all ages ran in and out of the tents much to the chagrin of their elders who strolled about. Heath noticed his brother, Jarrod, with Agatha, speaking briefly to Sheriff Madden. Jarrod didn't seem very pleased with the outcome of the conversation.

* * * * * * * *

"Well, that tears it!" Jarrod shook his head. "Now, what am I going to do? I know Judge Williams would have granted me a subpoena if he had been here. He picked a fine time to go on a weekend fishing trip with his son."

"I'm sorry, Jarrod, that you couldn't get your subpoena. I wish I could help you," Agatha sighed.

"I wish you could too." Jarrod stared at her with a pleading, 'won't-you-change-your-mind' look, but Agatha smiled and shook her head. "You are a stubborn woman." Jarrod said, exasperated.

"I will not compromise my position, Jarrod. Anymore than you would."

"Then I only have one alternative, and that is to convince Sally to release her medical records to me."

"And how will you do that?"

"I was hoping you would help me convince her, by speaking to Sally."

"Please, Jarrod, you know..." Agatha was interrupted by Phil Archer.

"Coercing your star witness, Barkley?" Archer sneered.

"I'm certainly not going to dignify that remark with an answer."

"Of course not, Barkley. Besides, you haven't a prayer of winning this one, no matter how many star witnesses you keep company with." Archer leered at Agatha before continuing.. "Sally Driscoll's future will be found at the end of a noose. Enjoy the festivities. Good day to you, Doctor, Barkley." Archer tipped his hat with an arrogant grin across his face. When he turned away he was almost bowled over by several running children. "Hey! Watch it! Someone's liable to get hurt!" He commented further to no one in particular. "I don't know why that priest is allowed to bring those gutter snipes among decent citizens!"

Jarrod led Agatha away. Archer went off to find Padre Sanchez to give him a piece of his mind.

Jarrod wisely decided to let himself and Agatha enjoy the festival without any more talk of the trial, and he squired her around the different tents and stalls that dotted the open area. It wasn't long before there was a loud commotion near one of the tents and many turned their attention toward the yelling.

"What happened?"

"A lady fell! She got hurt real bad! Gotta find a doctor!"

Jarrod took Agatha by the arm and led her to the gathering crowd to see if they could help.

Rusty quickly tossed Colleen over his shoulder and ran toward the book booth, shouting, "Heath! Heath! It's Hope, she's hurt! Come quick!"

Heath wasted little time rushing into the crowd. He found Hope lying on the ground, unconscious. Heath pushed through the melee and knelt down beside his wife. "Hope? Darlin'? Can you hear me? Hope?"

Hope's eyes fluttered opened, and she pushed herself up on her elbows. "I'm all right. I just got the wind knocked out of me. I'm fine, Heath."

"Easy there. Don't be in such a hurry to get up," Heath admonished.

"Are the children all right? I must go to them."

"They're fine. Mother is with them. Did you hurt your bad leg again?" As a young woman back in Boston, Hope Dougherty had been attacked one night by an assailant. She had shot the man but not before he had used a walking stick to beat her. Her leg sustained most of the damage and on occasion she sometimes used a cane for walking when the leg bothered her.

"I don't think so." Heath scooped his wife up into his arms.

"Now, Heath. There's no need to-."

"Hush. I'm carrying you back to the tent." Her husband's tone of voice left no room for protests, so she accepted her fate of being carried through a crowd of curious on-lookers. Once inside the tent Heath gently placed his light burden on a cot. Sally joined them inside.

Victoria looked up from where she had been playing with the twins. "Goodness, Hope! What in the world happened?"

"I'm fine. There's no need to be concerned. Some of the children were running about and I found myself in harm's way. I must have bumped my head when I fell. It was nothing, really." Heath poked his head out of the tent to speak briefly with Rusty. Hope's couldn't hide her irritation at her husband. "Now, Heath. You didn't have Rusty fetch a doctor, did you?"

"I did. I saw Agatha with Jarrod not fifteen minutes ago. Mother, would you take the children outside?"

"Certainly, Heath." Victoria placed the twins in their carriage and wheeled them out of the tent. Sally stood inside the tent and held the flap open so Victoria could leave with the children.

Heath knelt by his wife's side and began to lift the hem of her dress. "What are you doing, husband?"

"I'm going to check your leg. Come on now, let me see it."

"Heath, I'm fine. Really."

"Hope Margaret." Heath spoke in a stern tone.

Sally became very agitated and wrung her hands. "Oh please, Mrs. Barkley! Please let him look. Please! If you don't do as he says, he's liable to..."

The panic in her voice was so evident it shocked the couple. They both read paralyzing dread in the woman's face. She seemed ready to burst into tears. Heath slowly stood. "Miss Sally, you need to know something about me. I love my wife, I would sooner cut off my right arm than ever hurt her. No man has a right to hurt a woman, most of all his wife. When a man marries he promises to love, honor, and protect. There's no honor in hurting someone you promise to love."

"Heath, don't-." Hope began. "She doesn't understand."

"Well, maybe it's time she did."

"I agree." Jarrod's voice spoke out as he stood at the tent opening. Agatha pushed past him and sat by Hope's side.

"I went back to get my medical bag," Agatha whispered. Hope acknowledged the doctor with a nod but didn't take her eyes from her husband and now his brother, as they stared in earnest at Sally.

"Isn't it time, Sally, that you told the truth about how Sam died? Was it self defense, Sally? Did he try to hurt you?" Jarrod asked.

Tears poured from the woman as she sat in a chair near by. Jarrod and Heath both knelt beside her.

"Miss Sally, " Heath began. "I don't usually share this with many people, but I had an uncle who use to beat the tar out of me just because my mama wasn't married to my father. In fact, I used to get beaten up a lot when I was a kid. Now, understand, I don't hold with anyone beating another person, but I did learn one thing from it. I learned how to fight back. You gotta learn to fight back, Miss Sally. You can't let people beat you up all the time."

Jarrod took over. "Sally, now is the time to fight back. I need you to help me. I can't do this alone. Please help me defend you by fighting back. Please."

Sally dried her eyes with the cuff of her sleeve. "I don't know what you-, you want me to do."

"How did Sam die, Sally? The truth. I need you to tell me the truth." Jarrod pleaded. He desperately wanted to take her hand in his to give her comfort, but she was so fearful of the touch of men, he didn't dare take the chance.

"I can't. I'm too ashamed!" Sally sobbed as she shielded her face with raised arms. Jarrod gently pulled her arms from her face, then moved his hands away.

"I think I know what happened, Sally, but I need you to tell me. How did he hurt you?"

I-, I can't. Don't make me tell. I can't tell. Please, I can't." Sally wept as she shielded her face in her arms again. Agatha sat by Sally and embraced her.

"Sally. You didn't kill Sam did you? Did he threaten you with a gun? Has he done it before?"

"No. No-. Sometimes-, just sometimes-, he would use other things. Like an empty liquor bottle. He would-. He would say that I didn't-. I wasn't worth him touching me, so he would use-, other things. A broom handle once. He used that to-. But this time he used a gun. I was so afraid I pushed him. He was so drunk and he tripped and fell on the bed, the gun went off. After, there was just blood everywhere."

Agatha moved from Hope to take Sally in her arms while she wept. Heath, Hope and Jarrod felt like intruders and turned away from the scene. When Sally's loud cries turned into small whimpers Agatha began again and spoke in quiet whispers. "Sally, remember we spoke after I examined you. Remember what we talked about? I told you the things Sam did to you were wrong. He had no right to do those things, husband or not."

"Yes, I remember," Sally's vacant eyes stared at her comforter, her protector, her friend.

"I want you to trust me, and I want you to trust Jarrod." Sally shook her head in protest.

"Please, I need you to trust us. It's the only way we can save you. You're too good a woman to suffer anymore. You don't deserve to be treated badly. Jarrod could help you if you let him, and you'll be free. Don't you want to be free?" Agatha asked in earnest.

"Could I stay with the Barkleys?" Sally's voice held a glimmer of hope. Agatha turned to Heath and Hope.

"You can stay with us as long as you like, Sally," Hope promised, and Heath nodded his agreement with a smile.

"I want to be free. I like being free," Sally cried and Agatha hugged her tightly as relieved tears fell unashamedly.

Jarrod moved over toward Agatha and kissed her cheek. "Thank you."

To be continued…