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.
This story is a sequel to
“Flashes of Light,” which tells of an alternate arrival for Heath. The family is made up of the typical
characters, except for the fact that Eugene does not exist.
Chapter
22
“The cussed Barkley stubbornness,” Victoria said aloud,
“Is alive and well in that young man up there!” She punctuated her words with
one hand on her hip and a finger pointing up the back stairs.
Audra hid a giggle behind her hand, and Silas turned away
with a smile on his face, as she stalked around the kitchen.
“If I catch him trying to get his boots on one more time,
I’m going to throw them out the window!”
Jarrod, just entering from the dining room, said
nonchalantly, “The boots, Mother, or the body?”
Flashing him an irritated look, she advanced on Jarrod. He
held up his hands in mock self-defense. “Now, Mother, I’m sure,” he said,
lowering his hands to place them on her shoulders and look into her angry eyes,
“Heath just needs to get out of that room for a while. How about if I go up
after lunch and try to persuade him to let me help him down the stairs to stay
until dinner? Maybe he could even eat down here with all of us tonight?”
Then, leaning over, he whispered quietly in her ear,
before placing a kiss on her cheek, “He’s not used to having anyone fuss over
him. And besides, don’t malign that stubbornness too much. It might be a
Barkley failing, but it’s also a Barkley strength. . . . Mother, it’s part of
his strength.”
Sighing, she patted her wise son’s arm. “I know, Jarrod, I
just wish he would take it easy a little while longer before he decides . . .
.” The catch in her voice gave her away, and her tall, ever-sensitive son
pulled her into his arms.
“It will be alright, Mother. I know you are worried about
him trying to leave before you think he is even ready to be back in a saddle.”
Kissing the top of her head, he said, “Nick and I plan to talk to him soon. I
trust you two ladies would like for him to stay, if we can talk him into it?”
He looked over at his nodding sister, her blue eyes shining back at him.
He reached over with one hand and pulled Audra toward
them. As Victoria looked up at him, she patted the front of his stark white
shirt and said with hope in her voice, “Oh, yes, Jarrod, I want that so much!”
Then, in a quieter, more serious tone, she added, “But, it
has to be what he wants. I don’t think he has had many choices in his life.
And, this----well, it has to be his choice. All we can do is let him know we
want, we need, him to stay.”
Taking a deep breath, Jarrod nodded, and released them
both. As he held the chairs for each one to be seated at the table, he hoped
that he could convince Nick-----he was quite certain Nick felt the way they did
about wanting Heath to stay, but convince him about the importance of not
forcing the issue with Heath.
* * * * * * * *
True to his word, Jarrod climbed the stairs after lunch to
offer Heath his assistance. When he knocked on the door and did not receive a
reply, he was immediately worried that Heath was either worse or had already
absconded.
However, a second knock brought a response. “Come in,” a
quiet voice answered.
Easing the door open, Jarrod was shocked to see his
brother, fully dressed and sitting, not in a chair, but on the windowsill with
his feet hanging outside the open second story window. “And what were you going
to do if it had been Mother at your door to get your lunch tray? Jump?” Jarrod
said, laughing at the sight before him.
Heath turned a lop-sided grin, shadowed by sad, blue eyes
toward him. “No one walks quite like you do, Lawyer Brother. Boy Howdy, someday
I would like ta see you in action in a courtroom, stridin’ between the jury ‘n
the judge, makin’ them all pay attention!”
Smiling at the compliment, Jarrod nevertheless focused,
not on the words, but on what he saw in Heath’s eyes. “I came up to see if you
wanted some help getting downstairs, but I can see you’ve found your own way to
get further outdoors than I had in mind.”
Nodding, Heath sighed, and turned toward him, placing one
leg back inside the room. He remained seated, astride the sill and leaning
against the window frame. “Jarrod, I don’t want ta hurt your mother’s feelings
in any way. But, I can’t stay in here one more day, never mind one more week,
like that doctor said.” Putting his outside foot up on the windowsill, he
leaned his arm across his raised knee, and rested his head on his arm. With his
face turned toward the view, he said so quietly that Jarrod almost didn’t hear
him, “I’ll reach a point where the confinement’ll do the opposite of what she
wants it to. It’ll push me back too far inta the past, inta places I don’t want
ta go.”
Remembering, Jarrod saw again, the vulnerable young man
that had shown no fear at taking on a murdering gang in order to protect people
he did not know, but who had almost been overcome with the idea of being locked
in an eight-foot jail cell for more than a day’s time.
Walking over to him, Jarrod gripped Heath’s arm tightly.
Heath raised his head and turned to look up into his eyes. Jarrod saw the
haunted eyes and said the only thing he could, “Come on, Little Brother. Let’s
get you out of here.”
Then, as Heath stood slowly from his perch, Jarrod showed
his wisdom again and asked him, “How much walking have you done, and how much
help do you want from me?”
As he started toward the door, Heath replied, “Just some
late night pacin’ in here, down the hall ‘n back a few times------when no one
was lookin’. And,. . .” He stopped, and looked back at Jarrod, his eyes
considerably brighter now, a definite twinkle reasserting itself.
“And?” Jarrod asked, raising his eyebrows.
“And down the back stairs a few times----I was tempted ta
try goin’ down the quick way, but I was afraid I’d make too much noise when I
hit that little, round table at the bottom!”
Holding his sides, as he burst out laughing, Jarrod asked,
“The quick way, Heath? Do you mean on the banister? Oh, Heath,” Jarrod gasped
for air, “You just reminded me of a seven-year old Nick getting chased around
the parlor by Mother with her wooden spoon! He did that same thing one morning,
and sent her best vase, full of freshly arranged flowers, crashing all over the
foyer!”
Holding onto the doorframe, and shaking his head, Jarrod
repeated, “The quick way!”
Smiling, the two brothers made it as far as the top three
steps, before Jarrod had to offer Heath a steadying hand. They stopped and let
him catch his breath before continuing. Once at the bottom, they remained
standing there.
Heath was breathing hard, but his head was up and his eyes
were shining. Jarrod, on the other hand, was almost doubled over again
laughing, partly out of a twenty year-old memory, partly out of another
one----the sight of his new brother perched in the window, like a bird ready to
fly away, talking about descending the stairs “the quick way.”
Coming around the corner from the study, Victoria found
them like that, Jarrod leaning over with hands on his knees laughing, and Heath
with one hand on Jarrod’s back looking up at her innocently. Walking over to
them, she saw Jarrod straighten and wipe tears of laugher from his eyes.
She took Heath’s hands in hers, and ignoring her oldest,
she stood on tip-toe to kiss Heath’s cheek. “I’m so glad to see you down here,
Heath!” Then, giving him a quizzical look, she asked, “And what is wrong with
your brother?”
As Jarrod started laughing again, Heath said seriously,
“He’ll be alright, Ma’am. He just needs a little fresh air.” Taking Jarrod by
the arm, Heath led him to the front door, opened it, and---they quickly made a
clean exit!
A stunned Victoria Barkley was still standing in the foyer
looking after them, her mouth open, when Audra came out of the dining room a
moment later.
“Mother? What’s wrong?” Audra asked in concern. “You look
like you just saw a ghost or something!”
In reply, Victoria just shook her head, put her hands on
her hips, threw back her head, and started laughing, too. The sound followed
Heath and Jarrod out toward the barn, bringing an amazed smile to Jarrod’s
face. He couldn’t believe she had let them out of the house!
However, neither heard her words that followed. When she
could finally reply, she said, “Yes, Audra, I think I did. I believe it was the
spirit of two mischievous little boys who just got away with something very
daring, right under their mother’s nose!”
By the time they made it past the corner of the house,
Jarrod was the one holding Heath up. As the steps of the blond beside him
became slower and slower, Jarrod began looking for a seat in the shade. Drawing
Heath toward the large, familiar tree near the barn, he leaned him against the
rough bark. “Can you stand here for just a minute?” he asked anxiously.
“’Think so,” was all Heath could say.
Quickly, Jarrod carried two hay bales over and placed them
next to the huge trunk of the tree. Easing his brother down carefully, Jarrod
looked into Heath’s face with concern. The sweat covering him told Jarrod they
had overdone it, and he began to regret his earlier good intentions to just
help Heath down the stairs.
“Heath?” he asked.
“I’m okay, Jarrod. ‘Just need ta sit here a few minutes.”
“I’ll get you some water,” Jarrod informed him, and left
to head for the pump.
When he returned, Heath drank the whole cupful, holding it
in a slightly shaky hand, and leaned back against the tree again with a sigh.
After a few minutes, he asked, his eyes still closed, “Was
that your mother we heard laughin’?”
“Yes, it was! I couldn’t believe you got away with taking
me straight out the front door with her standing right there!” Jarrod moved to
sit on the other hay bale next to Heath’s. Shaking his head, he added, “Then to
hear her laughing instead of her footsteps running after us! I just don’t know
what to think!”
After a few seconds, Heath answered, “’Seems ta me, the
question is, will she let us back in!”
Heath finally let the pain cutting into him roll away,
like a loose wagon wheel meandering down a dusty hill, replacing it with the
sound of his brother’s deep laughter. A lop-sided smile crept over his face,
and he opened his eyes to gaze up into the sun sparkling through the thick
leaves on the branches over his head.
Looking at him, Jarrod was pleased to see the light
returning to Heath’s eyes. The regret that had been threatening Jarrod,
dissolved as quickly as it had started.
“Thank ya’, Jarrod. I didn’t know how ta tell her I had ta
get outside, ‘n I knew I couldn’t make it out here by myself.” Heath said
quietly, as his gaze wandered to the hills beyond the fences to the east.
“Anytime, Heath. That’s what brothers are for!” Jarrod
replied, as he placed his hand on Heath’s shoulder. “Anytime.”
Chapter
23
At Jarrod’s words, Heath turned away from the landscape
and toward the man beside him. The sunlight blue of his searching eyes met the
steady and confident, deep-blue stare of Jarrod’s.
His hand still holding tightly to the shoulder beside him,
Jarrod said, “Heath, have you thought about what you want to do now? What you
want the future to be?”
Heath lifted one eyebrow and smiled slightly at the older
man, “Well, I was hopin’ that I could make it back inta the house again b’fore
your mother comes after me with that spoon ya mentioned earlier. . . . ‘n,
after that, I thought I might give ya a chance ta win back some’a your money in
a friendly game of. . .”
Jarrod started chuckling softly long before Heath got to
the part about winning back his money. Then, he held up both his hands and
laughed out loud, “Wait, not Nick’s spoon story again, please! My ribs can’t
take any more of that!”
Sobering, he leaned back against the tree again and
watched the amused expression on Heath’s face. “Besides, you know that’s not
what I meant. I want to know if you’ve given any thought to what your options
are now.”
The silence that followed between them was broken only by
the light breeze rattling the leaves in the branches above. Heath leaned back
against the rough bark. Then, with his eyes closed again, he turned his head to
enjoy the refreshing coolness.
Watching him closely, Jarrod saw the pain cross his face
and double back, leaving a deep track between Heath’s closed eyes. His right
hand reached for his left side and remained there. Then, just when Jarrod had
decided to stand and try to get Heath to his feet to return to the house,
Heath’s hand suddenly reached out and gripped Jarrod’s arm. He said, “Not yet,
Jarrod.”
Unsure if Heath was telling him to wait or was finally
answering his question about giving thought to his future, Jarrod remained
seated and silent.
He saw Heath swallow hard a few times, the furrow
accompanied by twinges of pain radiating out from around his closed eyes. Then,
he saw the eyes open just enough to focus on the movement of the leaves
slightly above him. He saw Heath’s breathing slow, and watched in amazement as
the lines of pain began to relax in his face, while he felt the strength in
Heath’s hand on his arm as the muscles tightened.
After less than a minute, however, Heath took a deep
breath, blinked a few times, and looked over at Jarrod with uncertainty, as if
he didn’t remember there was anyone there.
“Heath?” Jarrod asked in concern, wanting to rub his arm
to dispel the ache of Heath’s grip, but he was unwilling to break the contact
just yet. “Heath? Are you alright?”
Heath slowly turned his head to look at Jarrod, then,
looked down at his own hand. “Sorry,” he said, lifting it from Jarrod’s arm,
“Didn’t mean to clamp down on ya like a barn owl goin’ after his dinner.”
Then, he quietly added, “Yeah, Jarrod, I’m fine. . . .
‘Just more tired than I want ta tell your mother ‘n her accomplice.”
“Her accomp . . . Do you mean the doctor?” Jarrod laughed.
“Yeah. I think she’s drivin’ the team now, . . . ‘n he’s
just along as shotgun,” Heath drawled, taking a breath in between.
“Well, she’s certainly had enough experience trying to
keep Nick in the bed when he’s hurt or sick, to know what it takes to keep a
stubborn Barkley hemmed in,” Jarrod said.
After a brief pause, he reflected that he had not gotten
an answer yet to any of his questions. And, now, Jarrod realized he had even
more questions he wanted answers to, if Heath would give them.
He tried again, “Heath, that’s part of what I want to
know. . . . You see? I did it again; we’ve all been doing it.”
When Heath looked at him without comprehending, Jarrod
added, “We keep referring to you as a Barkley, assuming, I think that because
that’s what we want, you want it as well. I haven’t heard you say what you
want.”
Jarrod watched as the pale blue of his brother’s eyes
seemed to focus inward for a moment, even as Heath turned his face toward the
horizon beyond.
Nothing moved in the yard around them, except the leaves
of the tree above and the slowly lengthening shadows cast by the barn’s
weathervane, as the sun continued its otherwise imperceptible journey across
the cloudless, afternoon sky.
Finally, Heath began to speak.
“I came here lookin’ for something, for justice, I guess,
if I had ta put a name to it. I never expected ta find out who my father was along
the way.” Heath shook his head. “And, no, I haven’t given myself much time ta
think about what it all means.”
“Are you saying you were looking for justice for the
Lansings, and now it doesn’t occur to you that maybe you’ve also found justice
for yourself?” Jarrod asked quietly.
“For myself?” Heath laughed with irony. “I don’t want
anything from your father, I never have.” He pushed away from the tree, and
stood quickly, using the momentum to help him make it to the closest white
wooden fence. Once there, with a tight grip on the freshly-painted gate post,
he took an even tighter grip on the raw emotions he felt chasing the sharp pain
now surging through his left side.
Watching him, ready to assist if needed, Jarrod walked
over, but he turned around to face the other way and leaned on the fence about
five feet off to the side.
He heard Heath’s voice a moment later, as he said, “B’fore
comin’ here, I would’ve said I wanted something from him---for my mother. . . .
But havin’ met your mother, I can’t even want that any more, . . . ‘cause it
would’ve come at too high a price for her. . . . As for me, if he’d been there for me, . . . well, then, he might
not’ve been here for all’a you, now would he? . . .If by justice, Jarrod, ya
mean fairness accordin’ to right or wrong? No, I don’t think so, not for me.”
Catching his breath again, he added, “I never thought ta
find that I have two brothers ‘n a sister. And, I never meant ta hurt your
mother by bringin’ back memories’a
things she’d rather forget.”
By now, the blond was starting to sag against the white
fence, his arms propped across the slanted top board. The angle of his head
gave Jarrod the impression that he was staring down at the ground, but as he
turned to look more closely, he could tell that Heath’s eyes were closed.
Jarrod took a step closer.
“Heath. Heath!” He closed the gap between them and placed
his hand on the struggling young man’s arm. “Come on, Heath. I’ll help you back
to the house.”
“I’m fine, Jarrod. Just give. . . just give me a minute.”
Heath said.
After a minute or so, Jarrod asked quietly, “Will you
trust me enough to tell me something?” Without giving him a chance to answer,
he followed with the second question, “How bad is the pain?”
Again, there was that silent waiting that Jarrod was
beginning to expect, the journey between his question and the blond’s answer
starting to feel like the comfortable pattern of anticipation between the
casting of the line into a stream and the welcoming reply of the trout’s strike
some moments later.
“Comes ‘n goes, not so bad anymore, . . . but not so constant either, that I can
eas’ly think my way through ta the other side of it. . . .’kind’a sneaks up on
me, now.” He took a ragged deep breath before continuing, “Just stabs inta me
without givin’ me a chance ta prepare a proper place for it.”
Not sure what kind of answer he had been expecting, he had
been unprepared for Heath’s reply. Once again, this quiet brother of his had
created more questions in Jarrod’s mind than he had answered.
Unwilling to dismiss the simple sounding statements, he
immediately began trying to analyze what Heath was saying. He thought about
what he had seen each time he had been sure the injured young man was in
tremendous pain. He remembered the almost closed eyes, the tensed muscles, even
the doctor’s surprise at the almost regular breathing and heartbeats. More than
anything else, he remembered the silence, the lack of any sound that would
indicate what was happening to him.
But, what did he mean by “thinking through to the other
side” and “preparing a proper place for” the pain?
Suddenly, he vividly recalled the scars on his brother’s
back, and he remembered Heath’s silent anguish at the thought of being
imprisoned, even for a short time. He thought about the quiet, one word
explanation that Heath had given them for both of those things. How had Heath
survived seven months in a prisoner of war camp? He had just been a boy, and it
was not just any camp, but Carterson, a place reputed to have been one of the two
most dreadful such places throughout the war, a place, Jarrod knew, where over
3000 had entered and only 300 or so had emerged alive at the end.
When Heath left Jarrod and made his way slowly toward the
hay bales once more, Jarrod remained standing, looking out over the afternoon
landscape to the east. He tried to imagine the agony of repeated blows with a
whip designed to slash a man’s flesh; he tried to imagine how many lashes it
would take to leave scars like those on his brother’s back. He tried to imagine
experiencing that kind of treatment at the age of fifteen or sixteen.
Suddenly, as he stared out through the growing shadows, he
saw his brother as he might have been then, a boy suffering abominable
treatment at the hands of prison guards, dealing with pain and sickness, hunger
and exposure to the elements. And, he saw, very clearly through the depths of
his brother’s eyes that, while these experiences had weakened his body, they
had actually strengthened his spirit.
How did he survive? Jarrod knew the answer was but another
question, . . .and another silence, away.
Striding toward the tree, and the weary figure beneath it,
he sat down on the other hay bale and fastened his gaze on his brother’s face.
Then, he waited, hoping that he would not even have to
ask.
Heath appeared to be breathing somewhat easier, and he
quickly realized Jarrod wanted a more direct answer, “Pain has a pattern,
Jarrod, a rhythm. The poundin’ of Mac’s fists had a rhythm,” Looking deeply
into Jarrod’s waiting blue eyes to see if he was ready for the knowledge, he
finally added, “The guard’s whip had a rhythm.” Then, his head down again, he
continued, “And the pain of the bruises inside me-----at least ‘til
recently------have had a rhythm. When I can find the rhythm and attach it to a
memory, I have some control over the rhythm. And, when I have control over the
rhythm, I have. . . .”
Jarrod, suddenly beginning to understand, finished for
him, “You have some measure of control over the pain!”
Sharing a lop-sided grin, Heath nodded and said, “Yeah,
that’s it. But, . . .” He trailed off, then picked back up and finished his
thought, “But, my fear back then b’came that I might not be able ta let go’a
the memory ‘n come back ta face the rest of it. The longer I stayed in that
hellhole, the better I got at concentratin’ on the memories. Sometimes, I just
wanted ta stay inside what I could control in my head ‘n not deal with what I
couldn't.” He added with a whisper, “Sometimes near the end, I just wanted ta
stay there, inside my head ‘n never come back.”
“But, you didn’t, Heath. You survived where so many others
didn’t. You were just a boy, a boy that should have never been there, wouldn’t
have been there if Father had known about you, and you survived in spite of all
of that. You’re probably stronger now for what you went through then, but if
any of us could have prevented you being there, we would have.”
“It’s over, Jarrod. It’s the past, ‘n none of us can
change it now, so it needs ta just stay in the past.” Heath said quietly.
“I know, Heath. I know you’re right. You’ve had years to
come to terms with it, but I’ve only had a few days. And, I’m just so angry
that you had to go through that, alone, without your father, without your
brothers to stand by you.”
Realizing Heath’s tired eyes were searching his face,
trying to understand where he was going with this, Jarrod finished, “As much as
we would like to change the past, to have had the opportunity to get to know
you years ago, we know we can’t go back now, and it hurts!”
Then, swallowing hard and extending his hand toward the
young man sitting beside him, Jarrod asked the question to which he most wanted
to know the answer. “Will you please stay and give us the chance to get to know
you now, to stand by you, to include you in this family, on this ranch? . . .
.Will you stay, Brother Heath?”
Once again, they shared the silence. Only their eyes
moved, as they each looked at one another and reflected on all that they knew
of the other, on all they had seen, on all they had said, and on all they had
heard.
Then, Heath responded with a quiet, but strong, voice,
“Jarrod, I have no words ta explain what your invitation means ta me. But,
though you say it like ya speak for everyone, I need time ta talk ta each one’a
them, ta Audra, ta your mother, ta Nick, b’fore I give ya any kind of an
answer. I will not stay here if it means anyone’ll be more hurt by it than if I
just keep right on ridin’.”
When Jarrod looked like he was going to say something else
to try to persuade him further, Heath held up his hand, “Wait, Jarrod. Just
listen, please. You don’t know me; you don’t know what my life has been. All ya
have are a few tiny pieces you’ve picked up, held up ta the light ‘n tried ta
make sense of. Has that report ya sent for come yet?”
When Jarrod shook his head, Heath continued, “ See, ya
don’t know who I am, ‘n yet ya ask me ta stay. Have ya thought about this? Have
ya thought about what it’ll mean for your family when other people find out
about Tom Barkley’s bastard son?”
At the injured look that invaded Jarrod’s eyes, Heath said
softly, the words pouring out like water held back too long and flowing over
the top of a crumbling dam, “Jarrod, there’re no words anyone can say ta me or
about me that I haven’t already heard. ‘Heard ‘n know how ta handle---know how
ta handle from experience, just like you prob’ly know how ta deal with almost
any type’a accusation or question that might come up in a court’a law. Though I
haven’t known ‘em for very long, I don’t want your mother ‘n Audra ta have ta
hear those words ‘bout your father, ‘bout your family, ‘n espec’ly the slurs
that’ll be spoken ‘bout each’a them. You might say ya understand now, but,
until it happens, ya won’t really understand, ya won’t really know what your
request has put them through.”
Then, he finally paused and took a deep breath, before he
added, My mama suffered through it; there’s no reason for yours ta have ta do
the same!”
Both sat silently for a few moments, Heath almost shaking
with his determination to get through to Jarrod, and the latter quietly
contemplating the words that had been spoken to make him understand why he
should just let his little brother go. Shaking his head, Jarrod realized that
the words had done nothing but strengthen his own resolve to make sure that
didn’t happen.
“Alright, Heath, I’m listening, and I will think about
what you’ve said. But, don’t you underestimate those two beautiful ladies. They
are tougher than you think. You talk to Mother and Audra, but be prepared for
them both to take offense when you start trying to protect them from the
cruelty of the words you think will persist if you stay.” Jarrod saw Heath’s
lop-sided grin fleetingly appear at his words. Then he continued, “While you’re
talking to them and thinking about what you want to do, I need you to think
about something else, as well.” He paused.
Then, he continued, “Audra, well, Audra already loves you
the way only Audra Barkley can, completely and without reservation or limit.”
Heath nodded, and the half-smile spread to his eyes.
Then, Jarrod went on, “As for Victoria Barkley, well . . .
. Did you know that my mother considers you to be a gift that my father, our
father, left behind for this family? She does, Heath. She considers you to be a
gift from him that she intends to cherish from afar if that’s all that you’ll
allow, but from beside you if you’ll permit her to walk into the future with
you, side by side.”
Chapter
24
After the first foray outside a few days ago with Jarrod,
Victoria knew she would find him somewhere near the barn today, as well.
Each morning and afternoon for the last two days, she had
either found him in the tack room, in the barn with his little black mare, or
leaning by the corral talking to Nick’s two colts. While she and the doctor had
insisted that he remain inside the house, resting as much as possible, he
politely, but adamantly refused. While he said he was “fine” and that he needed
to get outside to build up his strength, she suspected there was more to this
than he would say. It was clear that he had convinced Jarrod and Nick, who both
supported his gradually lengthening excursions. To both her pleasure and her
frustration, they kept his quiet confidence about the reasons why.
She and Doctor Merar had to content themselves with
sternly warning him off of lifting anything heavy or from doing any serious
work. She only hoped he listened to them. But, despite her worries and the
obvious pain the beatings and bruises continued to cause him, she had to admit
that he seemed to be improving rapidly, not making himself worse as she had
feared.
Now, as she went to tell him lunch was ready, she was
surprised to see him, not in any of the usual places, but in the round pen with
his mare.
Even knowing she needed to make him come back inside, to
eat something, to rest for a while, she couldn’t help but become immediately
enthralled with watching the two of them together.
He was standing in the center of the fairly small,
circular enclosure facing the horse. The little Modoc was standing near the
fence, facing him. Though she had spotted Victoria, who remained standing near
the barn, all of her attention was on Heath. His low murmuring words indistinguishable
from this distance, Victoria could see that the horse was listening intently,
her little ears flicking toward him.
Then, as he stepped forward with only his left foot, he
smoothly raised his left arm to just above waist height. The little mare wheeled
to her left and began a calm walk in that direction, circling the pen. Hardly
moving from his position, he turned with her, his arm now angled toward the
ground and his left shoulder still turned slightly toward the horse. The mare’s
inside eye never left the man in the center of the pen, and her ear swiveled to
catch his occasional murmur of praise.
After several revolutions, Heath again raised his left arm
and clucked to her twice. She lifted beautifully into a balanced trot, marred
only by a slight stiffness in her foreleg that seemed to get worse as she went.
When she had completed three, brisk circles around, he had apparently seen
enough. Shaking his head, he simultaneously stopped, dropped his hands to his
side, and said, “Whoa, Gal.”
Immediately, the horse halted, and turned again to face
him.
Walking slowly, with a stiffness of his own, he made his
way straight to her nose and touched her lovingly. Scratching her head and
behind her ears, he spoke soothingly to her. After a few moments, he held on to
her halter and leaned down to check her injured left leg. After running his
hand up and down the cannon bone a few times, he shook his head and stood
slowly, pushing off of his knee with one hand and pulling himself up using his
grip on the leather. Grabbing her mane, he steadied himself, and stayed there
for a long moment, his face buried in her neck.
Then, he stroked her nose a few more times, and removed
the halter, before turning away and walking toward Victoria and the gate.
Without a word, she placed her arm around him, and they
headed slowly for the house. When he had washed and was seated at the kitchen
table, she brought two plates and sat down across from him. She blessed their
food and looked back up at him.
He remained with his head down as he pushed the food
around on the plate with his fork. Somehow, she didn’t think he was seeing
anything there in front of him.
“Heath?” she asked tentatively. “How bad is her leg?”
When he took a deep breath and let it out shakily, she
knew without hearing his reply of, “Not good.”
“Do you think she is in pain?”
“No, with rest, she’ll be fine for light work, but never
for much else.” His flat voice hinted at what he didn’t say. She waited, trying
to just eat and give him time to think it through.
Finally, he looked up at her and caught her eye. “She’s
not showy or flashy. But, she’s always been as solid ‘n reliable as the risin’
of the sun each mornin’. She can stare a steer down from fifty feet away, ‘n
we’ve beaten many an iron horse together on its way from one place ta another.”
Then, he pushed his plate away and stood, saying, “I’m
sorry, Mrs. Barkley, I’m sure this food is good, but I’ve no appetite for it
right now.” Heath walked around behind her, and squeezed her shoulder gently
with one hand. She reached up and touched his hand with hers. “I know ya’ want
me ta rest. I promise ya I will, just not inside this house right now.”
Unable to think of anything to say to let him know she
understood his sorrow, she nodded, and said, “I’ll keep your plate warm for
you, Heath. Thank you for telling me about her.”
As he walked slowly back to the round pen, she watched
from the window near the door.
* * * * * * * *
One was a rich, red-brown mahogany, the other a red-gold
color reminiscent of sunset. One had thick, black mane and tail that enriched
his bay coat, the other flaxen hair to set off his radiant color.
The two yearling colts were sleek and shining in the
morning sun, tails whisking back and forth in their just-barely-long-enough
attempts to ward away pesky flies, as their noses remained glued to the chest
of the man talking softly to them.
Audra returned from her early morning ride and handed off
her mare to Ciego, who was just emerging from the closest red barn.
“Good-morning, Ciego,” she said. “How long has Heath been out there with them?”
she asked with curiosity.
“Him? He has not moved for more than one hour, Senorita.
The flies, I think they will begin settling on him next!” the portly man
confided.
“Is his little mare any better today?”
“No, she is the same,” he replied over his shoulder as he
led her horse away.
Removing her gloves as she walked, Audra headed slowly toward
the corral. “Good morning, Heath,” she said quietly, not wanting to disturb,
but eager to spend some time with him.
As he turned to look at her, he flashed her a genuine
smile that almost hid the pain in his eyes. “’Mornin’ Audra.”
She held his eyes with hers, and reached out to touch the
largest bruise that remained on his face, the one that started near his right
eye, surrounded the stitched gash on his cheek, and extended almost to his jaw
line. Though it was starting to fade, it hurt her to see it there. “How are you
feeling this morning?” she asked softly.
“Fine,” was his only reply.
“Heath, I saw your eyes when you turned around. Are you
still in pain?”
He shook his head, “I’m fine, Audra, really.”
Grabbing him by his arm, her compassionate eyes suddenly
flashed blue ice at him, “Heath Barkley, you are NOT fine! Stop telling me that
this instant!”
Smiling down at her, he reached up with his other hand and
covered her hand on his arm with his. “C’mon, let’s go take a walk,” he said.
Her eyes softening, she allowed him to lead her toward the
grove of trees behind the foreman’s cottage, her hand in his. Concerned at his
slow, modulated pace, she kept glancing at his face, and listening to him
breathe.
Finally, they reached a fallen log near the stream
meandering through the trees, and she turned and sat down on it. Walking all
the way around it first, he straddled the log, and sat facing, but not looking
at her.
After a few moments of sitting in the quiet spot, enjoying
the gentle breeze that played among the thin trunks and tiny leaves matting the
ground around them, he looked back at her.
“Audra, your kindness from the beginnin’ has meant a great
deal ta me. I know you’ve had big brothers all your life, so ya’ know how. . .
” He stopped.
Sudden understanding lit up her face.
“I know how to act around you, but, you don’t know how to
act around me, do you? You’ve never had a sister before!” she said
emphatically.
“Guess I really feel more comfortable talking ta you ‘n
your mother sometimes than ta Nick ‘n Jarrod. Maybe it’s ‘cause I grew up with
three women that I loved dearly, don’t really know for sure. Maybe it’s
‘cause’a you, your kindness ‘n your spirit.” He smiled and reached out to touch
her lightly on the nose.
“But?” she prodded, as he looked out at the woods to his
left.
“But, I’m not used ta havin’ so many questions ‘bout how I
feel, what I think, what I want. ‘Guess I just don’t know how ta respond much’a
the time. I don’t want ya’ ta think I’m bein’ rude ta ya’. I’ve gotten by for a
long time with just me, and, . . . and,” he hesitated.
Thinking that this quiet young man was incapable of ever
showing rudeness, she focused on what he didn’t say. “And your little mare?”
she asked softly.
As he looked back into her compassionate blue eyes, he
nodded. “All my life, I’ve been good with horses, known it since my first job,
when I was. . . .” he stopped, wanting to spare her, spare them all, some of
the details of his past. Then, he started again, “But, she was the first I ever
fully trained. ‘Got her young from a Modoc up in the hills. ‘Spent some time
with him there, ‘n he showed me a thing or two ‘bout workin’ with her.”
His eyes took on a far away look, and he stared back out
into the woods. “Learned a lot from that old man, things that’ve saved my life
more times than I care ta remember. He taught me much’a what I know ‘bout
survivin’, things that make a lot’a sense once you know ‘em.”
He looked back over at her, saw the interest in her eyes,
and he continued, “I’ve brought along many a young horse since then, ‘n she’s
more than ten now, I guess. ‘Bout time ta start a new horse, anyway, one ta
keep this time. But, that don’t make it easy ta give her up.”
“Is her leg so bad she can’t be ridden at all?”
“No, it’s just not goin’ ta hold up ta hard ridin’. . . ‘n
that’s ‘bout all I seem ta do anymore!” He grinned, then the smile disappeared,
and he said, “Sure, it could be doctored on, but it’s not gonna change what
needs ta be done.”
“Heath, surely you don’t mean put her down!”
He shook his head emphatically, “No, that’s not what I
meant. Some fellas would just naturally think me a fool for worryin’ so much
‘bout a horse, but, well, she’s been all I had for so long, it’s hard ta let
her go.” He looked back out at the trees, his right hand unconsciously moving
toward the sharp pain in his left side.
Audra said quietly, touching him on the shoulder, “I
cannot imagine not having my family around me nor having never known my father,
and then losing my mother.”
He glanced at her in silence, and saw that her blue eyes
were brimming with tears, not tears of pity, but tears of compassion and
empathy, as she tried to understand the hurt he must have known. It gave him a
jolt inside, like a lightning bolt stabbing through a tall Sierra pine, to know
that the tears were for him and for the life he had led.
Then, as he looked down at the ground beneath his boots,
he heard her ask, “Have you had a home
since your mother died, Heath?
He laughed softly, “If you call a bedroll in a bunkhouse
or under the stars a home, then, yes, I’ve been rich in that way, ‘cause I’ve
had many!”
Looking at him, her blue eyes full, she added, “Then, I
guess for you, your little horse is all the home you’ve really had for awhile.”
As he lifted his head back up in surprise to stare at her,
she moved close to him and threw her arms around him. “Heath, I want you to
stay here, here with us. I want this to be your home, and I want you to stay
here as my big brother. Will you please think about it?”
Reaching up to stroke her hair, he drew in a ragged
breath. As he let it out, all he could trust himself to say in response was,
“Yeah, Little Girl, I’ll think about it.”
Then, he stood, gave her his hand, and they walked slowly
away from the stream. Though she could tell he was hurting, she didn’t dissuade
him when he headed to the corral rather than the house.
When they were leaning companionably against the fence
once more, with the two lanky colts nosing their way closer and closer, she laid
her hand on his shoulder again. “Heath? I saw the scars on your back.”
She felt him stiffen at her words, but she didn’t remove
her hand. “If you ever need to talk about what happened to you, I’ll listen. I
know it will make me very angry at whoever did that to you, I already am
angry!” She saw one corner of his mouth lift in a tiny smile at her comment,
“But, I’ll do my best to listen, to be right here for you if you need me. That,
Big Brother, is what little sisters do!”
Then, with a laugh, she added, “Of course, Nick and Jarrod
would say little sisters aren’t much use for anything except planning parties,
going to the dressmakers, and trying to drag them to benefit events for the
orphanage, but. . .”
“Orphanage?” Heath interrupted her.
In the short time she’d known him, she had learned he,
too, was a good listener, and he had never interrupted her before. When he did
it this time, she knew she had really piqued his interest.
“Yes, Nick has this ranch, Jarrod his law practice, Mother
has all of us, and I, well I have many children who need me. Maybe, if you
decide to stay with us, you’ll help me with the children.”
Though he didn’t respond to her invitation, he asked,
“Whaddya do there?”
After filling him in on the details for several minutes, she
slowly stopped talking. Just as she suspected, somewhere along the way, and
long before she had noticed, he was no longer listening.
“Heath? Heath, are you okay?” she said in concern.
“I’m fi . . . ,” with a forced grin, he remembered not to
say he was fine. Instead, he breathed deeply, his eyes closing and his hand
tightening its grip on the white fence, “Sorry, Audra. I think I’m ready for
that rest now.”
In the last few days, she had gotten good at being able to
tell when the pain he battled was getting worse. But, she thought, “I wasn’t
paying enough attention, this time.” She took him by the arm, and turned him
toward the kitchen door.
Still a good twenty feet away, she felt him falter. She quickly
ducked under his right arm and held on to him with all her might. Together,
they made it to the door, and, with help from Silas, she settled him at the
wooden table in the middle of the kitchen.
While Silas worked around him to finish preparing lunch,
she ran upstairs and returned with Heath’s medicine. Her eyes were flashing
again, when she came back down. "Heath Barkley, does Mother know you’re
not taking your medicine the way the doctor told you to?”
He flashed his lop-sided grin at her, “No, but if ya want
me to, . . . I’ll tell her. ‘Not takin’ any more’a that stuff. It takes bad
memories ‘n turns them inta . . . . ” He stopped and took a deep breath. “I’m
just not gonna drink any more of it.”
Sitting down with him at the table, Audra smiled, touched
his hand, and said, “How long have you been doing without it?”
She was startled at the reply, “Two days.”
“Are you able to sleep without it?” she asked.
“Never been one for sleepin’ a lot anyway, but yes, better
without it than with it.”
Looking at him, she said, “Silas, how long before lunch is
ready?”
“Be ready in ‘bout one hour, but, ‘reckon I can make it
hold a little longer t’day, Miss Audra---unless Mr. Nick comes in. And, yes,
I’ll help you get him up those stairs first.”
He returned the amazed smiles looking back at him from the
faces of the two blond-haired, blue-eyed children, Tom Barkley’s two youngest,
and the two that reminded him the most of his long dead friend.
Chapter
25
While he had not joined them downstairs for lunch earlier
in the day after all, Heath had awakened feeling much better than when Audra
and Silas had first helped him upstairs. He had joined Silas in the kitchen for
leftovers and had returned to the barn later in the afternoon.
Though she knew where he was, she couldn’t help worrying
about him. She knew how long he had remained in his room after his usual
morning outside. Then, when she had checked on him later in the kitchen,
obtaining his usual assurances of “I’m fine”---this time accompanied by a slightly
upturned corner of his mouth that she couldn’t quite understand----she had
noticed that he had looked very tired.
She had cautioned him to return in a short while and had
reminded him of her hope that, with everyone home tonight for a change, they could
all eat together in the dining room. Seeing his eyes widen and his head drop
slightly, she knew he was not looking forward to this as much as she was. Then,
she had watched him walk slowly across to the paddock and the barn beyond.
Something was bothering him other than the recurring, but
slowly healing, pain in his side. She was sure of it.
A few hours later when she joined Nick and Jarrod, who
were cleaned up and enjoying a drink downstairs before dinner, Victoria was
dismayed to see that Heath had not yet returned.
“Nick, did you see Heath anywhere?” she asked.
“No, Mother, isn’t he in his room?” Nick replied, his
instant worry evident in his voice and eyes as she silently shook her head.
“It’s not dark out yet, maybe he’s with the horses still,”
Jarrod spoke up. “I’ll go see if I can locate him.”
“I’ll go, Jarrod. I haven’t had much time to talk to him
in a couple of days.” Turning to go look for Heath, Nick opened the door to see
Jamie Drumm and his son approaching by wagon. Leaning back inside the doorway,
he hollered, “Mother, Jarrod, we have company! It’s the Drumms.”
Jarrod set his drink down and headed for the door, a smile
on his face.
Victoria met Silas coming from the kitchen, “Silas, would
you please tell Audra that we have guests? Oh, and please set two extra
places.”
“Yes, Mrs. Barkley,” he replied.
Outside, Jamie and Justin jumped down from the front of
the wagon, as they greeted Nick and Jarrod. “Hi, Jarrod, Nick. Justin and I
came to see how Heath is doing. I’m sorry to come so late in the day, but I’ve
had a lot of work to catch up on now that I’m doing better. This is about the
only time of day that I could get away.”
“We’re glad you came, Jamie,” Victoria spoke as she joined
the men outside. Taking the boy by the hand, she asked, “Have you had supper,
Justin? I happen to know Silas has a beef roast prepared with a chocolate cake
for dessert.”
“Hello, Mrs. Barkley,” Justin spoke up quietly. “I already
ate, Ma’am.” Glancing over at his father, he added, “But, I sure would love
some of that cake!”
“Whoa, Son, hold on there! We’re not going to be here very
long. These folks haven’t eaten at all yet, so we’ll just stay a minute, and
then, you can just jump back in that wagon.”
“No, Jamie!” Victoria said, putting a hand on his arm.
“You’ve come all this way, and I heard you say you wanted to see Heath. I know
that during your previous visits he was always asleep. This time he should be
up to seeing you both.” Turning, she looked at Nick, who quickly resumed his
trek toward the barn to find him. “Come in; I insist. Justin shall have his
cake while Nick goes to find his brother.”
Leading the way to the dining room, she and Silas attended
to Justin, while Jarrod poured Jamie a drink. A few minutes later, Nick and a very
worn-looking Heath entered from the back of the house.
As soon as he saw Heath, Justin jumped up from his seat,
nearly over-turning his glass of milk. To everyone’s surprise, he ran to the
blond young man he had never really met, threw his arms around his waist, and
buried his face in Heath’s shirt. While Heath immediately turned pale at the
pressure to his injured side, he reached down and silently patted Justin on the
back.
Audra immediately tried to come to Heath’s rescue, as she
entered the room and saw her brother’s face. She said, “Justin, please come
tell me what you’ve been up to today!”
Barely hearing Audra, Justin slowly released his bear hold
around Heath and looked up into the face above him. With eyes shining, he said,
“You’re the one that shot that bad man! I saw you! You saved my Pa and me!”
As Nick stepped up to place a supporting hand under
Heath’s left elbow, Justin continued, “Mr. Nick, I sure wished I could ride
like that. You should’a seen him!” He looked at Nick and pointed up at Heath.
“He was holding a rifle in both hands and riding faster than a steam engine
pulling an empty train. I never saw anybody do that before.”
Then, Justin stopped and stared down at his boots. Jamie
had made his way to his son, and had placed his hand on his shoulder. When
Justin stopped talking, Jamie extended his hand to Heath, who took it in a
somewhat shaky grip.
“Heath, I’m Jamie Drumm. I can’t tell you how much I
appreciate what you did for us, for my wife, my son, and me.” His dark brown eyes
expressed the rest of the feelings that his words could not.
As Justin began pulling on his father’s shirt, Jamie
looked down at him. Then, Justin held out his hand for Heath to shake. “Thank
you, Sir, for saving me from that man. I know he was getting ready to shoot me.
I knew I was going to die. Then, . . .” He stopped and looked back down.
Carefully, Heath dropped to one knee in front of the
little dark-headed boy. He placed his hand under Justin’s chin and lifted his
head so they could look into each other’s eyes. “Boy Howdy, Justin, I’m not a
Sir, I’m just Heath. Ya know, Mrs. Barkley’s been tellin’ me that you’ve been
by a couple’a times to see me when I was asleep. I sure am glad ta finally meet
ya.”
He took a deep breath, then continued, “When I was ridin’
in that day, I thought ta myself, ‘That sure is a brave young man, ‘n I hope I
get ta tell him so someday.’ I’m pleased ta fin’ly meet ya, Justin!”
Justin reached out to gently touch the bandage around
Heath’s head. “That’s where they shot you, ain’t it? I saw you fall, and I was.
. . . I was scared you were dead.”
“I’m alright, now, Justin. I’m sorry I scared you.” Then,
struggling to stand again, and gratefully accepting Nick’s unobtrusive
assistance to steady him, Heath changed the subject, “Justin, is that choc’late
cake you’re eatin’?”
“Sure is! Mr. Silas made it, and it sure is good! ‘Want
some? C’mon, I’ll share!”
When the little boy grabbed his hand to lead Heath around
to the other side of the table to sit beside him, everyone in the room saw the
smile that lit up the tired blue eyes.
Victoria, one hand wiping at her eyes to catch the tears
that threatened, indicated that everyone should join the two already seated. Once
everyone was seated and grace shared, the meal with the whole family went very
smoothly, though it now unexpectedly included an unusual addition to their
plates. Large hunks of chocolate cake were served as an accompaniment to the
roast beef, potatoes, and assortment of other vegetables.
It was only afterward, when they walked Jamie and a
satisfied Justin to the door, that Jamie remembered the item in the back of the
wagon. The light mood of dinner, complemented by Justin’s constant chatter,
changed drastically when they all recognized the blood-smeared saddle and gear
as additional reminders of Heath’s recent ordeal. Placing the saddle near the
door, Nick retrieved the saddlebags and stood with Heath as the visitors
climbed into the wagon and prepared to depart.
Suddenly, Justin remembered something and turned to Heath,
“’Forgot to ask you, Sir, uh Mr. Heath. How’s your little horse?” Not giving
time for an answer, Justin continued, “I wasn’t scared to go in our barn again
while she was there. She’s got a real friendly look in her eye.”
Having spent the afternoon working with his injured mare,
Heath swallowed hard, and said, “Thank ya for takin’ care’a her for me, Justin.
She’ll be fine.”
As the wagon pulled away and Heath turned to go inside, he
and Audra shared a long, knowing look.
When Nick and Heath had headed up the stairs a few minutes
later, Victoria turned to her daughter and raised her eyebrows. Her sad,
blond-headed daughter responded, “Heath and I had a talk today about his
tendency to always tell us he’s fine. We also talked a long time about his
horse and what she means to him.”
As they entered the sitting area together, Audra added,
her hand on her mother’s arm, “I know he says she’s fine, Mother, but we both
know she’s really not. I don’t think he is handling the idea of losing her too
well, either.”
Nodding, Victoria sighed deeply, her thoughts settling on
her blond-headed son, and on what it was going to take before he was really
going to be “fine”. No matter how long it took, or to what lengths they had to
go, she vowed to herself that, together as a family, they would see that Heath
Thomson Barkley had the chance to become all that he wanted to be, regardless
of all that he had lost in his life.
Chapter
26
When she entered the study late in the afternoon of the
next day, Victoria was surprised to see her middle son leaning against the
frame of the open, outside doorway. He was absently swirling a drink in one
hand, and staring out into the distance.
Though she had been standing still, in the center of the
room for several minutes, he did not notice her. Finally, she stepped over
behind him, and wrapping her arms around his waist, she leaned one side of her
face against his back. She felt his empty hand latch on to hers.
After a moment, he shifted his weight to his other leg,
and turned around to look at her. With both of his arms now wrapped around her,
he placed his cheek on the top of her head. They stood together a few more
minutes.
Then, he sighed deeply, and she led him obediently to the
two chairs near the cold fireplace. Knowing he wouldn’t stay seated if he ever
started talking, she kept one hand holding on to his for the time being.
“Is there anything I can do, Sweetheart?” she asked
quietly.
Nick continued to stare into his drink. Then, he looked up
at the picture of his father hanging over the mantle and shook his head.
She waited.
Finally, he jumped to his feet, and stalked to the mantle.
He held his drink up in a mock-salute to the picture and said, “Mother, I’m
just so angry at Father. I can’t get past it. Every time I look at Heath, every
time I think about those scars on his back, every time I see the pain and the
sadness in his eyes, I just want to. . . to. . . I just want to have Father
right here on this earth with me one more time so I can ask him WHY? And, if he
doesn’t give me a good enough reason, I know I would just want to bust him
one!”
Finishing off his drink, he set the glass on the mantle,
and began pacing up and down in front of it.
Victoria watched him, looking for signs of any discomfort
as he hit one fist into the other hand over and over as he walked. She had been
pleased that his shoulder seemed to be healing properly and was happy to see
that it was obviously not bothering him now.
However, she was distressed at his words, and the emotions
that she knew were behind them, though she couldn’t say she wasn’t feeling
something similar or wasn’t worrying with similar questions herself.
“Nick, Honey, I don’t think there are any answers.”
Victoria said, “At least, not until Heath is up to talking about what he knows
or believes. I just don’t think we can rush him into telling us anything until
he is ready. Not only does it take a lot out of him to talk about his past, I
have the feeling that he is trying to protect us from it.”
“I know, Mother. I’m afraid he doesn’t know any more about
Father than we do and that we will never find out what happened or why. It
could be that he doesn’t trust us enough yet to tell us, but I think it is more
likely that you are right. What he does know about, he is trying to protect us
from, and the rest he just doesn’t know.”
Then Nick stopped pacing, grabbed hold of the back of the
settee with both hands, and said, “Why, Mother? Why did he go off and leave
Heath’s mother with a child? Why did he never go back to take care of his son?”
He took a deep breath before continuing, “I’ve listened to
Heath talk in his sleep. I’ve watched him toss and pitch in that bed. I don’t
always understand what’s wrong, but it’s more than his injuries, at least these
injuries. He was a kid when he was sent to that prison camp! He shouldn't have
even been in the war! He was a sniper carrying a rifle that was almost as long
as he was tall! And, because of what he’s been through, he knows more about
surviving than most grizzled old men I know.”
Victoria stared into Nick’s anguished hazel eyes, the hurt
in her own mirroring his. “I don’t know, Nick. I just don’t know,” she said
quietly.
“Mother, he’s my brother, my little brother, and I don’t
even know his birthday or what he likes to eat or the name of his first dog! I
want to know, Mother! I need to know.” He trailed off, and stared down at his
hands as they continued to grip the chair.
Sitting with her back straight, the pride she displayed in
her careful posture greater than the pride she felt inside right then, Victoria
rose gracefully to her feet and walked toward her handsome, dark-haired son.
Lifting her taffeta blue skirt slightly, she placed one knee on the settee and
leaned toward Nick with both hands on his upper arms.
Looking directly into the hazel eyes, which were watching
her, she said, “Nick, we all want Heath to stay here, to give us the chance to
get to know him, to have the chance to. . . . .” She stopped to take hold of
her emotions, “To have the chance to love him, but it has to be his choice,
Son. I know Jarrod has told him that he wants him to stay, and Audra has, too.
I am hoping to speak with him very soon to let him know how I feel. Have you
talked to him yet?”
Nick closed his eyes briefly and took in a deep breath. He
released it audibly as he slowly opened his eyes to look into hers again. “No,
Mother, we have not had a real conversation about it since before I was shot. We’ve
just, I don’t know how to explain it to you, we’ve just come to an
understanding somehow. He knows how I feel about him, and I know that he feels
the same way about me-----we just have a strong connection, a trust, . . .”
Nick stepped back and threw his hands into the air in
frustration. “I don’t know how to explain it! Ever since the day we got Audra
away from that camp, it’s as if we don’t have to wonder about each other any
more, we just know that as long as we are both alive, we will always be there
for each other.” He shrugged his shoulders and smiled at her. “I don’t have to
tell him, and I don’t need him to tell me. We’re brothers, and we both know
it.”
Then, he added quietly, with a small smile on his tanned
face, “I guess when you feel that connected to someone, knowing what he likes
for breakfast, whether he likes his steak rare or well-done, shouldn’t matter
very much after all.”
Victoria looked at her son, and though initially
skeptical, she remembered that lone tear and that single word when Heath had
been on the floor of his room in agony---the tear and the word were for this
man in front of her, for the man Heath had only known for a short period of
time, for the man Heath had called brother for only a matter of days. The tear
and the word, the name of this man, spoke of indescribable grief-----grief for
the person thought dead and grief for the relationship left unexplored.
She circled around the settee and took Nick by the arm.
She pulled him around to face her, and she reached up to touch his face.
“Alright, Nick, alright,” she said. “I don’t understand it all, but I trust
you. I just wouldn’t want him to leave thinking that all of us do not want him
to stay, because one of us did not speak up to make sure he knows.”
Thinking hard, she asked, “Have you talked about what he
will do if he decides to stay?”
Nick shook his head, “No, we haven’t discussed any of
that. Do you think we should? Would it make you feel better if we did?”
“Yes, Nick,” she nodded, “It would make me feel much better
if I knew that he understands his importance here, and from what I can see of
him, he is going to want to start working as soon as he possibly can.” Shaking
her head, she smiled at the image of Heath and Jarrod sweet talking their way
out of the front door while she stood there watching them with her mouth wide
open. It was all she could do to not burst out laughing again just thinking
about it.
Looking at her with a puzzled expression, Nick said, “I’ll
find a way to talk to him soon about it. To hear Audra and Jarrod tell it, he
is going to be a real asset with the horses.”
Suddenly, in his mind, he saw the two colts out in the
corral by the barn, and the blond-headed, blue-eyed young man that the animals
had taken such a shine to. With a growing smile, Nick watched as an idea
flashed through his mind. Thinking several years down a winding, dusty road, he
could see the two of them riding side by side on fine young horses, one the
color of the sunset and the other, a deep, rich mahogany bay. “Yep, maybe
that’s where we should start.”
Reaching up to give Nick a kiss, Victoria patted him on
the arm, and headed for the door. With her hand on the doorknob, she stopped
and turned back to look at him. She smiled again at the contemplative look in
his eye as he started to turn back to the window. She had no doubt that he
would have a complete course of action for their horse operations for the next
six months mapped out by the time the evening was out.
“Just remember, Nick,” she said across the room, “It has
to be his choice!”
Chapter
27
“My mama died on a cold night in January over three years
ago. Except for her two best friends ‘n me, she was all alone in the world.
There were only three pairs of eyes ta watch her take her last breath, ta shed
tears over her grave. Before that, for as long as I can remember, that was all
there was----Mama, Aunt Rachel, Hannah, and me.”
He stopped to look out over the hills, the early morning
blush covering the white fences nearby in a soft rose-colored wash. Drawing several
deep breaths and closing his eyes for just the briefest of seconds, he then
glanced over at her, squeezed her hand, and continued.
“As far as I knew, there was never a man in her life,
never anyone special enough ta love her ‘n hold her close. But, somehow she was
content with that, or at least, it seemed that way ta me, . . . .right up until
she died.”
“My Aunt Rachel, really my mama’s friend, had summoned me
ta come back from Bodie. I’d been drivin’ a stage through the eastern Sierras
along the Bodie ta Aurora run for about four months by then. When I made it
home and first saw her, I couldn’t believe the changes, . . . ‘n I couldn’t
understand ‘em.”
When the diminutive silver-haired lady beside him looked
up, clearly puzzled, he explained, “Ya see, she was clearly dyin’. She was, oh
so thin, ‘n her skin was like fine parchment paper, the kind she used ta tell
me ta be so careful of when turnin’ the pages of her fav’rite book. She had
dark, sunken circles under her eyes, ‘n her soft brown hair was very dull.”
He stopped again, and she rubbed his arm gently, while he
gazed out at the vivid colors reflecting across the horizon, drawing strength
from what his eyes beheld, to balance what his mind recalled.
Entwining his fingers with hers, he squeezed gently, took
a deep breath, and continued, “Yet, despite the pain ‘n the obvious sickness,
she was so happy, . . . so little-girl happy!” He shook his head at the memory
of it. “I knew she was glad ta see me, but it wasn’t just that. I could tell it
was something diff’rent, something special that was makin’ her glow with. . . .
with excitement. But,” he said sadly, taking in a deep breath, “She didn’t last
long after I arrived. I never got a chance ta ask her or ta hear her share it
with me.”
He swallowed hard, remembering how incredibly difficult
the next few days had been for them all.
Finally, feeling her squeeze his hand gently, he said, “It
was another two weeks b’fore Aunt Rachel showed me the reason for her joy.”
“It was the picture, wasn’t it?” Victoria Barkley asked
softly.
He nodded. “Yes.”
Victoria sat under the tree with her husband’s son,
looking out at the glorious pinks, oranges, and yellows of the sunrise. She
tried hard to remember the exact date of that photograph, but found that the
best she could do was to remember that it had been taken in the late fall just
over six years ago, a few months before he had been killed. Heath said that his
mother had died three years ago. “How does this all fit together?” she wondered
silently.
Glancing down at her face, Heath could see that she did
not understand. However, she was turning her questions inward, probably from
not wanting to intrude on his still-sharp grief. Reaching out to pull her
toward him, his arm stretched protectively across her slim shoulders, he could
feel her tension.
“After she died, I turned my hurt inta anger, ‘n I
directed it inside, at myself. I was so angry for not bein’ there sooner, for
not bein’ able ta send her ta better doctors, just angry at myself for anything
I could think of. My aunt fin’lly got through ta me, made me stop the blamin’
that I was doin’ ta myself. . . .. Aunt Rachel stopped me cold by remindin’ me
that Mama wouldn’t have wanted me ta do what I was doin’, by remindin’ me of
how happy she’d always been. She told me the happiness at the end was because’a
me bein’ there, but I insisted I knew there had ta be another reason, too.”
Taking a deep breath, he stopped and asked, “Are ya sure
ya want ta hear the rest’a this?” Feeling her head nod against his shoulder, he
said quietly, “Mrs. Barkley, I don’t want ta hurt ya any more than I already
have, just by bein’ here.”
Turning around to look at him, to look into those eyes
that reminded her of a summer afternoon sky, that reminded her so much of Tom’s
eyes, she said simply, “I have to know, Heath. I have to know all of it, so I
can understand.”
Then, she took his face between her hands as she knelt
there in front of him, and she said, “I have to understand why he didn’t take
care of you, why he didn’t protect you. I have to understand why he never told
us about you, why he kept you from us all those years. I can’t forgive him for
that, Heath. But, please, if you help me, maybe I can at least begin to try to
understand.”
With anguished blue eyes meeting sad grey, salt tears
threatened both.
Finally, he nodded almost imperceptibly, and he pulled her
into his chest and held her, his chin resting on the top of her hair.
Then, after several long moments, he began to speak again.
“I told ya that we were alone except for my mama’s two best friends, Rachel ‘n
Hannah. Well, Mama also had a brother, ‘n he had a wife.”
“Your real aunt and uncle?” Victoria asked.
He laughed wryly, “Real enough, but not in any shared
feelin’ of family. They hated both of us. They lived in Strawberry; my mama
worked for ‘em, ‘n they didn’t even come ta her funeral. Two weeks after my
mama died, Aunt Rachel told me that Mama had recently found two envelopes when
she was cleanin’ up the office of the hotel those two owned.”
Then, his voice rising, he added, “Even though she was so
sick, she continued workin’ for them---‘n they let her!”
He swallowed hard, and she felt his arm around her tense
as he fought with the anger that threatened his calmness.
A few moments later, he was able to continue, “For
whatever reason, they had left them there, stuck inside a book that she
accident’ly knocked off the desk. They fell out. Mama realized one was about
her ‘n the other was addressed ta her, so she brought ‘em home. They had both
been opened, ‘n they were dated about three years b’fore.”
Interrupting, Victoria shifted position to ease away from
him so she could see his face again. The fading bruises were more visible now
as the earliest rays of the sun crept toward them. “The picture was in one of
them?”
“Yes,” he replied. “I never saw the letters. I suspect
that Aunt Rachel buried them with her. But, she told me that they weren’t
signed. The first was apparently written in reply to a letter her brother
wrote, a letter that must’ve asked for money in exchange for information they
had ta sell. Aunt Rachel didn’t quite use the word blackmail, but I assume
that’s what was goin’ on. He, . . . your husband, wrote a very terse letter
tellin’ them his only concern was that they not drag my mama’s good name
through the dirt. He said he had cared deeply for her years ago durin’ a very
difficult time in his life. He said that his wife,” Heath looked down at
Victoria and squeezed her shoulder, “That his wife knew all of it ‘n still
loved him in spite’a his actions. He said he had nothin’ ta hide from anyone,
no shameful secrets ta pay for, and that they could go ta the devil for
suggestin’ otherwise!”
Both of them exchanged soft chuckles over that, she in her
memory of her husband’s fierce pride, and he in his more recent memory of this
only connection he had had with his father’s voice that shone through the
words.
Then, Heath continued speaking, “In it, he also demanded
that they give her the smaller envelope, sayin’ that he’d follow up with her ta
make sure she’d received it. Ya saw the picture I left behind here. Accordin’
to my aunt, the short letter ta her only expressed his sincere wishes that she
was as happy as he was, hoping that she had a lovin’ husband ‘n the many
children he believed she was always intended ta have. . . . They never gave it
ta her; she found it by accident years later, just b’fore she died.”
Tears sprang to her grey eyes at these words, so softly
spoken. In a whisper, she said, “And he died soon after he sent it, so there
never was any way for him to ensure that she had received it.”
Heath reached up to wipe away her tears with his fingers
on her face. Then, he added, “Mrs. Barkley, from his words, I don’t think he knew
about me. My Aunt Rachel didn’t seem ta think so either. It’s the one thought
that’s helped me deal with my anger in the last few years. I felt it again when
I first saw his picture in your study that night, but now, havin’ spent some
time with all’a you, I’m not so angry any more.”
He sighed and looked back out at the sky behind her, and
quietly added, “Instead, it just saddens me ta think of all I missed by not
havin’ had a chance ta know him, ta know all of you.”
He stopped, and in an even softer voice, almost to
himself, he said, “I can’t completely forgive him for leavin’ my mama that way,
but I know she must’ve loved him a great deal in spite’a that fact. She never
wanted me ta hate him,. . . .‘n I know I hurt her for so many years ‘cause I did
hate him, even when he was still nameless ‘n faceless ta me.”
“Heath,” she responded, looking into his searching eyes,
“As much as you and your mother suffered for his lack of knowledge about you,
as much as you have gone through in your life because he didn’t know about
you-----and I’m sure I can’t begin to know what that has meant to you------I
believe he is the one who lost the most. He lost more than anyone else because
he never got a chance to know his son, to know you, to see the fine man you’ve become.”
Once again, they both tasted their own tears.
But this time, however, she smiled openly at him, the
sadness in her grey eyes gone. In reply, his lop-sided grin became a wider
smile that finally reached his blue, shining eyes, brightening them with a
flash of hope at the light of love he saw reflected back to him in hers.
* * * * * * * *
“But, don’t ya
see, Little Girl, they won’t stop just at sayin’ those things ta me. They’ll
say them ta you, they’ll say them about you, about your mother, ‘n about this
whole family!”
The discussion that had begun around the dining table at
lunch, continued outside later in the barn, just between the two of them.
They were working together to give Gal a thorough grooming
and were almost finished.
Audra had remained fairly silent at lunch when first
Jarrod, then Nick, had told Heath in no uncertain terms that his concerns about
how other people would react to him staying were not reason enough to leave,
not nearly enough reason.
Victoria had only responded by reaching over to lay her
hand on top of his as it lay on the table, saying, “Heath, we want you to stay
here with us; this is your home, we are your family, and nothing else matters.”
At the time, the issue seemed to be closed. Victoria
Barkley had spoken at the very end of the discussion, and, other than the
positive response she was still waiting for from him, she had expected to have
the last word.
Now, an hour or so later, Audra had brought it back up.
She had wanted to have her say, but she wanted it to be just between the two of
them.
She followed his statement with a long sigh.
Then, she started to speak--- short, swift brush strokes
punctuating her words. “Heath, I know you believe that I cannot handle such
repulsive comments, but I assure you that I have learned from the best. Mother
is more than capable of letting any busybody in this valley know when she is
over-stepping her bounds. And, Nick, well, let’s just say he has his own style
when it comes to dealing with rude comments!”
They both found themselves smiling at that particular
thought.
Audra continued, “We’ve dealt with scandal before, and
whether you stay or not, there will be others to deal with in the future. Sure,
it will make us all angry, and it may hurt us when it happens, but we’ve always
stood together during every storm. Standing together no matter what, is the
legacy Father left us, and the one Mother expects us to live by---and now that
includes you!”
Standing behind Gal and using a wide-toothed comb to
remove the last of the tangles from her long black tail, Heath found himself
grinning. This little sister sure was something, sweet and gentle one moment,
fiercely blunt and bubbling over with indignation the next!
Aloud, he said, “Audra, I just don’t want anyone hurt
‘cause’a me.”
“Heath, if you leave now,” she said softly, “We’ll all be
more hurt than any words can either cause or correct. Please promise me that
you’ll stay. I want you to stay here and be my big brother.”
He looked up and found her twinkling blue eyes staring at
him. Knowing now that her words reflected the thoughts of every family member,
he finally found the words to agree with what his heart had been telling him
for more than a week.
He nodded and, just for her ears, he said, “Yes, Audra, if
you’ll keep helpin’ me learn what being a big brother means, I’ll stay.”
When her arms came around his neck, and she kissed him
excitedly on the cheek, he couldn’t resist adding, “But, you’d better ask your
mother ta have a full bottle’a her liniment handy for me, ‘cause I won’t let folks
speak badly ‘bout any’a you without feelin’ my reply.”
“Oh, Heath,” she laughed, the dazzling smile lighting up
her face, “I’d better suggest Mother get two bottles ready, because somehow I
think Nick is going to be hoping he gets to make a few replies as well!”
Laughing together, they finished polishing the little
black Modoc, just as Jamie and his family arrived for lunch.
Watching them through the doorway, with Audra’s arm around
his waist, Heath saw the laughing little boy as he jumped down from the wagon
and did his best to assist his mother as she climbed down beside him. He saw
the smile as Justin’s mother leaned down to thank him, smoothing his hair with
her hand as she did so.
With a sudden memory of his own mother performing that
same ritual years ago bringing a light to his eyes, he turned to see Audra
watching him with understanding. He smiled down at her, and said, “Thanks for
helpin’ me with Gal. I wanted her ta look extra good for our surprise after
lunch.”
As they made their way to the house to wash up and greet
their guests, Audra said, “I know Justin will be good to her, Heath. I am
overwhelmed at this idea of yours to give your horse to him. It’s a wonderful
solution.”
Looking down at the dusty ground, Heath nodded his
appreciation for her words. He said, “You’re right, Little Girl, I know they’ll
be good for each other.” Then, he glanced up at her with a lop-sided grin, and
said, “And, we already know she likes his barn!”
* * * * * * * *
After introductions that now included Mrs. Drumm, and the
heartfelt thanks she shared with an embarrassed Heath, the group enjoyed a
special lunch that Silas had prepared. It included some of the favorite dishes
that the older gentleman had learned Heath loved as much as he did.
Just as they were exclaiming over the fresh peach cobbler
Silas had brought in for dessert, they heard a knock from the front of the
house. Shortly afterwards, Silas returned with Sheriff Liam Forrest behind him.
“Sheriff, how nice to see you,” Victoria said immediately,
to greet her unexpected guest.
“Victoria, Jarrod, folks,” he nodded, and stood awkwardly
to the side, until Silas returned with an additional chair. Pointing at Heath,
he said, “I’m sorry to intrude. I just came to see this Mr. Barkley.”
As he walked around the table to stand behind the
blond-headed young man, Heath turned to look at him and stood up. But,
interrupting them, Victoria insisted that Sheriff Forrest sit down to join them
before conducting his business.
“Liam, have you eaten lunch?” she asked.
When he nodded that he had, she said, “Silas, would you
please bring the sheriff some cobbler and coffee?”
Even after he had been served, however, the atmosphere was
not the same, and the quiet persisted until finally, Liam stood back up,
leaving his pie untouched. He walked around the table toward Heath.
Again, Heath stood and faced him.
The two stared at each other for a few seconds, as Liam
took in the young man’s fading bruises and the two healing gashes on his face,
one across his cheekbone, the other across his forehead. Finally, he said,
“Heath Barkley, I owe you an apology. The fact that you are surrounded by
friends and family makes it all the better, I think, though again,” he looked
at Victoria, “I’m sorry for interrupting your gathering.”
Extending his right hand toward Heath, he said, “I
apologize for misjudging you, for thinking that you were part of the marauders
and even considering that you might have had something to do with the murders
over in Markleeville.” Holding up his hand, he said, “I know what you’re going
to say, that I was just doing my job. But, I don’t think I listened enough,
asked questions enough, or trusted the facts enough. And, since I hear that you
might be staying, I want to welcome you to our valley properly.”
As Heath shook the sheriff’s hand and looked into the
serious eyes, he nodded once.
Then, the sheriff said, “Excuse me a minute, I have
something that belongs to you. He quickly turned to head for the door, but didn’t
have to go very far. Silas was standing in the dining room entrance carefully
holding a hand-tooled leather scabbard and two firearms.
“Thank you, Silas.”
Taking the items, he returned to Heath, whose eyes were
now sparkling as he watched.
“Mr. Barkley,” the sheriff started, but he was cut off by
Heath.
“Just Heath is fine, Sheriff,” the blond said quietly, a
lop-sided smile on his face.
“Heath, I am very appreciative to you for,” looking
around, his eyes touched everyone around the table, “For saving the lives of
several people in this room, in addition to assisting Kendell Davis and his
family. I am also very grateful to you for saving my life out there in the
woods by the river.” He held out the new scabbard with Heath’s rifle inside.
“Nick seems to think you have a hard time hanging onto
your rifle, any rifle. So maybe this will help. I want you to have it,” he
said.
Heath held the scabbard with both hands, checking first to
see his that his rifle was undamaged. Then, replacing it, he ran one hand down
the length of the finely worked leather, and looked up into Liam’s eyes. “Thank
you, Sheriff. This wasn’t necessary, but I do appreciate it.” Raising one
eyebrow and the one corner of his mouth even more, he added, “I’m sure I’ll
find a use for it.”
The sheriff handed Heath his pistol and grasped him by the
shoulder, before turning to leave.
Heath’s next words stopped him, however.
“Sheriff,” he said, “Please wait. If ya don’t mind, Mrs. Barkley,
could the two of us be excused to the gun room?”
“Of course, Heath. We will be headed that way in a few
minutes anyway,” Victoria responded.
The two made their way to the wood-paneled room with its
glass-enclosed cabinets. Once inside, Heath removed something from the top of
the large desk in the corner. Walking over, he handed the worn, metal star to
Liam.
“Sheriff, if ya don’t mind, I’d like ya ta return this ta
John Ashton over in Markleeville for me. Unless ya know something about Mac ‘n
Midas bein’ caught, there’re still those two missin’ men that he’ll want ta go
after, but I don’t plan on needin’ it anymore.”
Liam Forrest shook his head, “No, they haven’t turned up,
Heath. They are surely hundreds of miles away by now.” Lightly tossing the
badge in his palm, he added, “I’ll take care of returning this first thing
tomorrow.”
Shaking hands once more, the sheriff turned and headed
toward the front door. Heath walked the other way, to the open French doors,
and stood looking out at the red barns and the bright blue sky beyond. Thinking
of the gift from the sheriff led him to remember the gift from his own heart
that he would be offering to a little boy in just a little while. Smiling as he
thought about it, he realized the idea of losing his horse no longer hurt quite
so badly.
Then he thought about the gift of family, a gift that was
worth so much more than any possession. Remembering his conversations with
Jarrod, Audra, and Mrs. Barkley over the last few days, he smiled to himself.
He was satisfied that each of them knew enough now to be
sure about the pain his staying could cause. He was now more assured in his
knowledge that, in spite of what was to come, they each wanted him to stay.
The only one he hadn’t talked to was Nick, at least not
lately. But, as surely as he knew that sunrise would light up the eastern sky
tomorrow morning, he knew that Nick Barkley was the one person he needed no
words, no conversation, to be sure of. All he had to do was think of the many
times in recent days that Nick had been right there, sitting with him through
long, pain-filled nights, or leading the charge to find him and return him to
safety. No, he and Nick needed no other words; their actions spoke clearly
enough for all to see.
With instant clarity, he knew that his words to Audra in
the barn before lunch had been just waiting to be spoken aloud for days. He
knew that, yes, this is where he wanted to remain, this is where he belonged.
Heath turned back to the room, carefully removed the rifle
from the new scabbard, and lay the leather piece on top of the desk.
He took several long strides to the gun cabinet closest to
the outside door. He stood for a few seconds more, looking out at the view of
the barns beyond, then turned to the cabinet. Opening it, he removed his pistol
from inside his belt--where he had tucked it earlier, and lay it beside the
others already on the small shelf. Then, he found a rag in the drawer below and
carefully wiped down the rifle that had saved his life so many times in the
past. With his smile growing slowly, he stood the rifle in an empty slot above
the narrow pistol shelf.
As he stepped back and closed the glass door, the smile
lit up his expressive blue eyes as he paused to look at these few, essential possessions
of his, now resting among those of his family.
Ahead of the others leaving the dining room, a lone
observer had stood watching Heath’s deliberate actions from the hallway.
All at once, Heath jumped slightly at a shout from behind
him.
“HEATH! YOU”RE STAYING!”
Smiling at the now familiar bellow, Heath turned and
suddenly, like his firearms that now had a new, secure place among all the
others, he found himself surrounded by family.
He and Nick stood in the center of the group, right hands
clasped together and Nick’s left hand clamped down on Heath’s shoulder. “Boy,
it’s about time you came around to the right decision! This is a working ranch,
and I need you beside me!”
Heath didn’t have any words for a reply.
Instead, as he struggled to contain the moisture that
threatened to leak from around his lids, he closed his eyes for a second and
felt the familiar tightening in his gut, the torrential tension that had
threatened to twist him in two for what seemed like half his life.
He felt again that constant driving desire to belong, that
urge to feel connected.
Then, he opened his to see Nick’s hazel eyes staring back
at him.
There.
Suddenly, he knew that, as surely as the six-horse hitch
had pulled the stage toward the depot on his daily run, he knew that those old
feelings had been pulling him here, here to this place. He knew that, as surely
as his little Modoc had once pulled him to safety up a dangerous slope, the
persistent desire to belong had been pulling him here, here to this brother, to
this family, and to all they stood for.
As he observed the moisture building behind Nick’s eyes,
too, he knew that the aching need that had been fueling his search, steering
his journey, had become, finally, something definable, something with a simple
name, a question with a one-word answer.
Staring into Nick’s hazel eyes he nodded.
Then, Jarrod was there, moving Nick out of the way, and
shaking Heath’s hand, the deep-blue of Jarrod’s eyes smiling back at him.
“Welcome to the family, Little Brother.”
Next, he found himself being hugged by Audra, who had been
watching him with shining eyes and a brilliant smile. As he kissed the top of
her blond hair, he whispered, “Thanks, Little Girl,” before releasing her.
Finally, the petite figure of Victoria Barkley was in
front of him. She had been watching him with pride in her bright grey eyes. He
reached down to take her hand and put it to his lips. When he released it, she
placed the hand on his face, and he leaned down to kiss her cheek.
There.
As he stood looking at them, he felt it again, and he
knew.
More than he had ever wanted anything in his life, he knew
he wanted to stay here with this family. He knew he wanted to stay and learn to
become a son to this woman he had grown to respect and to become a big brother
to this sister who had been, from the very beginning, easy to love. He knew he
wanted to stay and learn from these two men he had come to depend on, to stay
and share this ranch with them, to share his dreams with them, and, above all
else, to continue the journey of becoming brothers with them.
Looking at each of them, at each member of his family,
Heath Barkley knew his long search was over. He knew he had finally come home.