by
Sandi H.
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.
The still air that caused the many banners advertising the San Joaquin County Fair to hang limp, along with the sweltering heat, contributed much to the business pouring into the various drinking establishments that dotted the streets of the growing city of Stockton. Annie’s, boasting the coldest beer in town, was no exception. Harry, a mountain of a man, muscled by the frequent hefting of barrels of whiskey and kegs of beer, ran the business end of his bar with efficiency and skilled precision while maintaining a joviality that kept patrons coming back time and again. Harry ran a respectable place. If a fight were forthcoming, he would order the contenders to take it outside. If that didn’t work, he would bodily assist the disagreeing customers to the back alley. Sometimes even that didn’t accomplish its means. If that were the case then Harry’s Policy went into affect. If Harry’s place was torn up in a brawl, even the dimmest town drunk knew that damages would come out of the pockets of all parties involved in the brawl. It didn’t matter who came out the winner. Both parties paid up. If they didn’t pay, they would soon be jawing with the sheriff. Harry would see to it.
The free-swinging doors to Annie’s swung open propelling the two dusty and sweaty cowboys towards the bar.
“Now Nick, I bought the last time,” argued the first cowboy, who donned a light cream-colored Stetson that allowed a glimpse of blond sideburns to peek out from under the rim and further showed a neatly trimmed hairline from the backside. He was of slightly smaller stature than the dark-haired, dark-clad cowboy he was with. “You owe me brother.”
“WHAT??” Not caring how his voice carried, the taller man looked incredulously at his younger sibling. “I owe you? Ha! How many times have you hoodwinked me into picking up your beer tab? What was it the last time? Oh yeah. Yeah, that darn two-headed coin of yours. I didn’t stand a chance.”
The younger man smiled a little lopsided smile. “Yep. That’s my lucky coin, Nick. It sure brought me luck that day.”
“Heath, you conned me, that’s what you did. Can’t turn my back on ya, boy.”
“I reckon not big brother. So you buyin’ or what?”
“All right! I’ll buy,” Nick conceded, pounding down his fist on the bar. “I’m too blasted hot to argue with you but I’ll remember this. Oh, you bet I will. The next time YOU buy, little brother.”
Heath muttered under his breath. “Like an elephant.”
“What was that, boy?”
“Huh? Whatcha want Nick?”
“What’d you just say there? Did you just call me an elephant?”
“Well, I believe I did at that. You see Nick, an elephant never forgets.”
“Just shut up Heath and don’t be calling me names. What’ll ya have?”
“A nice cold beer sounds about right.”
Nick gestured to Harry to get his attention. “Harry! Two beers down at this end of the bar.”
The bartender smiled fondly at the brothers. They were always a welcome sight in his establishment. He listened to the familiar banter between the two brothers. He couldn’t help but think back to a time not too long ago when the words that passed between these two men were anything but friendly. Nick had been the last one of the Barkleys to come around to accepting Heath as a full fledged family member when the young man had ridden on to Barkley land those many months ago, claiming to be the bastard son of the late Tom Barkley. Nick might have taken the longest to accept Heath as his brother but once he did, there were absolutely no bounds to his loyalty toward the younger man. Mess with Heath and you could count on Nick Barkley being on you like a mama grizzly protecting her young.
Harry shot the two foamy mugs down the counter towards the two brothers. Heath reached out and expertly caught both glasses and slid one over to his older sibling.
Both men with their backs towards the swinging doors unwound as they sipped their brews, each caught up in their own thoughts. They didn’t pay attention as the saloon’s swinging doors continued to bring in more customers. The two cowboys didn’t notice when two men, also brothers, sauntered through those swinging doors and saw the backs of the two men whom they loved to hate, Nick and Heath Barkley.
“Well looky who we have here.” Zach Morton’s voice could be heard loud and clear over the din of the bar room. “Why, I do believe that’s Mr. Nick Barkley and there’s his half breed brother right beside him. My, but don’t they make a purdy pair.”
Nick stiffened but didn’t turn around. In a voice calm and low but clearly threatening, Nick replied, “you Mortons had better just shut your yaps right now ‘cause I’m not gonna tell ya twice. If I hear anymore yammering from the likes of either of you, Harry’s gonna have to scrape ya both off the floor. Ya hear me?”
“Oh, we’re so afraid,” came the sarcastic retort from J.R. the younger Morton.
Nick started to swing around to face their tormenters. A strong hand clasped over his shoulder preventing any further movement.
“Don’t Nick,” came the quiet drawl. Heath held his hand steady and firm on Nick’s shoulder until he was sure his brother wasn’t going to go on the attack. “The likes of the Mortons ain’t worth the fight. Just let it go.”
Nick’s jaw hardened and his hand shook as he addressed his beer again and raised his mug to his lips. “I just thought by this time that kind of talk would have lost interest, even among those Mortons,” Nick growled low through clenched teeth.
“Nick, I’ve listened to that kind of talk all my life. I used to think it would just go away someday but that’s not been the case. As long as there are ignorant people, there will always be ignorant talk. I’ve learned that most of the time I can let it roll off of me. Let it roll off of you too, big brother. At least this time.” Heath shook Nick’s shoulder in a pacifying way. “We’d better be gittin’ on home or mother will have our hides if we’re late for supper.”
Draining the last of his beer, Nick stood up to leave only to have both Morton’s block his way.
“Whaddya want now?” Nick’s eyes narrowed and his fists clenched as he waited to see what was going to happen next.
“Who us?” Zach raised his eyebrows and feigned innocence. “Nope, we don’t want nuthin’ from you Barkleys. We just wanted to remind ya’ll of the County Fair comin’ up next month. Also wanted to remind you how us Mortons have whooped you Barkleys for the last two years now.”
“Yeah,” J.R. snickered. “And we plan on keepin’ that streak alive. You Barkleys don’t stand a chance of winnin’ and you know it.”
“Is that a fact?” Nick retorted and started to take a step towards the two men.
“Nick!” Heath reached out again to restrain his heated sibling.
“Let go of me, Heath.” Nick shrugged Heath’s hand away. “I’m not gonna get in a fight with these two losers. I’m just gonna tell them how it is.” Directing his attention to the two brothers again, Nick countered back. “You don’t think we Barkleys stand a chance do you? Well, I’m here to tell you you’re wrong. Dead wrong. Now if you gentlemen, and I use the word loosely, would care to put your money where your mouth is, how about a little wager? Just a little sportin’ wager of say, two thousand dollars? Then we’ll see who’s the best. Unless that’s a little too rich for you Mortons blood.”
“Nick, let’s get out of here and go home,” Heath said as he tried to push his brother towards the swinging doors.
“That sounds like a fine amount to us. We could use that money for some breeding stock we want to buy in Denver. You’re on Barkley.” Zach reached out and grabbed Nick’s hand to seal the deal with a shake.
“Don’t worry,” Nick proclaimed. “You won’t be seeing a nickel of that bet ‘cause you ain’t gonna win that rodeo. Not this time.”
“Oh yeah? Says who,” challenged J.R. “And who do ya got ridin’ for ya? Surely not him.” The youngest Morton sniggered and pointed at Heath. “Ol’ Tom Barkley’s back woods colt”
This time it was Heath’s fists that came up ready to fight.
“Ah now little brother,” Nick reached over to restrain his red-faced fuming sibling. “Remember what you just said. ‘As long as there are ignorant people, there will always be ignorant talk.’”
“Yeah, but I also said,” Heath countered back, fury flashing in his livid blue eyes, “that ‘most of the time I can let it roll off of me.’” Heath struggled to get out of Nick’s grasp. “This ain’t one of those times.”
Harry had been watching, being a witness to the brewing brawl and figured it was time he’d better take action to try and step in with hopes of stopping this confrontation before Barkleys and Mortons really came to blows. While no love was lost on the Morton brothers as far as Harry was concerned, he really was quite fond of Nick and Heath and didn’t want to see them hurt. He also didn’t feel like remodeling his bar after a bust up fight.
“Here! Here! Break it up gents.” Harry positioned his girth between the two sets of brothers. “I won’t have any of this in my place. Nick, you hold on to your brother until he simmers down. You Mortons, I’m gonna tell ya once. LEAVE NOW or I’ll get the Sheriff over here.”
“Okay, okay. We’ll leave peaceful like.” Zach Morton turned to look at Nick, who still had a restraining grip on Heath, straight in the eye. “But know this Barkley, we’re gonna whoop ya but good and come out two thousand dollars ahead to boot.”
J.R.’s snigger turned into raucous laughter. He pushed through the doors after his brother with some last parting words. “And no bastard Barkley is gonna best us neither.” Nick and Heath could hear their maniacal laughter for several seconds after the Morton’s had left the saloon.
Heath’s face flushed crimson with the familiar deep humiliation he’d felt too many times in his life. His hands at first worked back and forth between fully extended fingers to balled fists. Next without him realizing it, they moved to fiddling with the buttons on his cuff. Nick sighed as he watched his brother revert to a behavior he hadn’t seen since the first weeks of Heath’s coming to the ranch.
“Heath, they’re not worth it. Come on, let me buy ya another drink and then let’s get on home. Don’t let ‘em get under your skin. Their sorry hides just ain’t worth it. ‘Sides, we’re gonna be ready for those Mortons this year. You’re one of the best bronc riders I know. We’ll nail ‘em, I just know it.”
“Yeah”, Heath acknowledged in a quiet voice. In almost a whisper, “sure.”
After one more round, Nick slapped his brother on the back and propelled him out the doors. Nick glanced at his brother. Damn, he hated seeing him look this way. The look of defeat creased Heath’s face and anger smoldered in his eyes. Nick sighed as he untied Coco and hiked up into the saddle. Why couldn’t people just leave Heath and other sons and daughters like him alone? Why was it that people over and over, throughout history, blamed the sins of fathers on their offspring?
Nick wanted to say something to Heath but no words were forthcoming. The two cowboys rode in silence and continued silent as they reached the ranch and stabled their mounts. Finally on the way up to the house, Nick reached out and wrapped a big calloused hand around his youngest brother’s hard muscled arm. Nick looked him straight in the eye and said, “Heath, just because father was not there when you were being raised doesn’t make you any less of a man. It doesn’t make you any less of a brother to me. Don’t seize up on me over those Mortons’ stupidity. You are every ounce a Barkley and no one can deny that. Heck, not only do you look the part, you’ve absolutely got the cussedness of a Barkley. Why, I know for a fact just how stubborn you can be. Remember that time when you were so mad at the family because we had Gil Anders up in the guestroom after he’d been shot? You wouldn’t even stay under the same roof with the man! You went hightailing it off to the hotel swearing not to come back until he had either left or died of his wounds. As I remember it, you would have preferred the latter.”
“Yep, I would have, at first.” Heath shook his head as he remembered what transpired that night in the hotel, that night when Nick goaded him into coming with him to Coreyville. They would find Jarrod and find out the real truth about the man who was laying up there in their guestroom at home. Heath lifted his head. He couldn’t help but crack a crooked smile as he recalled that time. Blue eyes met hazel as Heath spoke quietly but with an unmistakable renewed strength. “Thanks Nick.” Chuckling, Heath cuffed Nick playfully across his jaw. “I could have busted your teeth that night when you told everyone within a five mile range what kind of cards I had. That was the best hand I’d had in weeks! I should have taken it out of your hide or better yet, out of your wallet.”
“You’ll have your day at the cards again brother, that I know for sure.” Nick felt tremendous relief seeing Heath respond to his own brand of Nick Barkley encouragement and walked with a lighter step up to the house. Just knowing that Heath had pushed over yet another obstacle on the road of life made Nick feel that much closer to the man he’d known for less than a year. A man he proudly called brother.
“Yep, I reckon you’re right.” Walking together with the older brother he’d always dreamed of having and now suddenly had, Heath stole a sideways glance at Nick. “I still should’ve busted your teeth.”
For the next month all the way up until Fair time, the two cowboy Barkleys along with their ranch hands worked hard to sharpen their roping and riding skills. Day in and day out, after the normal hours of work, keeping the ranch running, had been done, you could hear the whoops and hollers of support and encouragement as riders vied to stay on bucking broncs or rope and bring down scurrying calves. The meanest and orneriest of horseflesh was brought forth to test and hone the skills of Heath Barkley and Charlie Fisher, the two men who would be representing the Barkleys in the bronc busting event.
Heath was just getting positioned on Diablo, the meanest of the mean, when Jarrod, the oldest Barkley brother rode up in a buggy having just come home from winning a case in San Francisco. Two weeks he’d been gone. For him, victory at the Bar was sweet and now he was glad to be home. Jarrod had long ago chosen a different path when it had come to occupations, then that of his two rough and tough siblings. Jarrod favored more citified comforts and savored the sophisticated, finer things of life. While if pressed into service, Jarrod could throw down an animal for branding as good as the next man, his heart belonged to Law and his family saw the wisdom years ago of allowing the oldest son, given to thinking things out in a logical way, to follow his own dreams. Today Jarrod Barkley was one of the most renowned Attorneys in the State with offices in both Stockton and San Francisco.
Handing the reins over to Ciego who cared for the horses and tended to other chores around the Barkley mansion, Jarrod got down from out of the buggy, carrying his valise with him. He saw the crowd gathered in the corral closest the house and decided to see what it was all about.
Heath was just wrapping the bronc rein around his hand and concentrating on the wild ride to come. He didn’t see Jarrod stroll up to the fence where Nick was hollering the loudest that this time; Heath would stay on the bronc for the mandatory eight seconds.
Jarrod reached out and clapped his younger louder brother on the shoulder.
“Jarrod,” exclaimed the exuberant cowboy, throwing his hands up and bringing them down in a hearty embrace around his brother. “I didn’t know you were home. When did you get here?”
“Just pulled up, brother Nick.” Jarrod carefully extracted himself from Nick’s strong clinch and stepped back feeling slightly bruised from Nick’s enthusiasm.
“Well, you’re just in time then. Ol’ Heath there, he’s fixin’ to win us the Rodeo they’re having at the Fair this year. He’s just about got his balance perfect for scoring.” Nick turned to the man atop the beast in the chute and shouted, “You ready Heath?”
The blond nodded in the affirmative. The chute was opened and Diablo came out snortin’ mad. Bucking and twisting, the angry stallion did everything he knew how to, to throw the burden he had off of his back. Heath hung on tight while concentrating on moving with Diablo’s spins and thrusts while at the same time keeping his left arm high above himself in the customary stance of a bronc rider. When you’re on an animal as cantankerous as Diablo, time seemed to move at molasses speed. Eight seconds. That was the whole amount of time you had to stay on an animal to qualify for a good score. Heath grunted and squeezed his legs around the livid horse. Boy howdy, he thought to himself, it felt more like eight minutes. Heath instinctively tucked his body as he felt himself being tossed. He landed on his back with a thud in the sandy dirt. Diablo still thinking there was a body daring to ride him, bucked and kicked and snorted with contempt. Experience had taught Heath how to roll out of the way of the killer hooves and he again, as he had done many times before, managed to get himself out of harms way. Nick and some other men were right there to help the dusty and bruised cowboy to his feet.
“Whooohooo! By golly, you did it boy! You stayed on that rank animal the full eight seconds!” Nick was nearly beside himself with high spirits. “This year is our year! We’re gonna give it to those Mortons but good!”
Heath groaned and stumbled a bit, slightly feeling like he was still being swirled and twirled by Diablo. Nick’s excited talk stopped abruptly. He felt a pinch of shame that he hadn’t asked his brother if he was all right after having rode the meanest, orneriest critter on the ranch.
“You okay, Heath?” Nick circled a strong arm around his brother’s upper body to steady him. Jarrod watched from the outside of the corral fence.
“I’m okay. Just a little shaken up, I guess. Nothin’ a hot bath and soft bed won’t take care of. That ol’ boy sure can give a wild ride”
“Come on. Let me help ya to the house.” Turning his head towards the corral, Nick barked his orders to the men to unsaddle Diablo and put him up for the night. They’d start up again tomorrow late afternoon.
Heath still felt swirly-headed and was thankful for the steadying hand of his big brother. Walking out of the corral, they met Jarrod who looked anxious indeed about Heath’s present well-being.
“Nick, did my eyes serve me correctly? You had Heath on Diablo? You KNOW that horse is more than out of control.” Jarrod was furious that his impetuous brother would act in such an irresponsible way.
“Jarrod, you don’t understand.”
“Nick, I DO understand. I understand that that rogue stallion could have killed our brother.”
“It’s not like that!”
“Oh? What is it like then, brother Nick? Why was Heath put in this perilous position? Or more to the point here, I believe the real question is, why did you let it happen?”
“Jarrod, we’ve got a rodeo to win!”
“Nick since when is winning a rodeo so important that you risk the life of a family member?”
Heath, slightly leaning on Nick for support had been silent, listening to Jarrod’s concerns. Finally he felt that he must speak up.
“Jarrod, I’m really okay. Diablo IS our best chance of beating the Mortons this year.”
“So THAT’S what this is all about. The Mortons.” Jarrod couldn’t rightly chew out Heath for falling victim to the Mortons’ brand of “friendly competition” but he could blame Nick.
“Nicholas, you KNOW better! Those Mortons are going to beat the tar out of you and you know it. And do you know why I know this? It’s because I know the Mortons don’t compete fairly. They’ll do anything, anything at all to win because winning to them means EVERYTHING. They’re not content to compete just for a friendly diversion. No sir! They compete to show to all that they can’t be beat and they won’t be beat no matter what unsavory thing they have to do to insure their victory.”
Nick’s face was reddening at an alarming rate. His eyes narrowed dangerously as he stopped and turned to face his oldest sibling.
“Fine Jarrod! If you don’t want to be part of this competition then STAY OUT OF IT! We ARE going to win this year! Heath and Diablo are gonna make sure we do, ya hear me?”
“Oh, I hear you all right. I just hope that in your haste to win some material satisfaction, you don’t sacrifice your brother to injury or worse to get to that point. I am correct in assuming there is some monetary amount riding on this rodeo, yes?”
Nick hardened his jaw and spit out the amount wagered. “Two thousand dollars.”
“TWO THOUSAND DOLLARS? Nick, what were you thinking?”
“Pappy, we aren’t gonna have to PAY that money. We’re gonna WIN it! We’ve got the horse and we’ve got the rider.” Patting Heath on the back, Nick nodded to his blond brother and looked back to Jarrod with fire in his eyes.
Jarrod looked first to one dark-headed brother and then settled his piercing gaze on his blond-headed quiet brother. “Heath, are you sure you’re okay with this? It’s awfully dangerous.”
“Jarrod, I’ve been busting broncs long before I came to live here. I’m not saying I’m the best, but I do know my way around a wild horse. I think I can pull this off.”
Nick piped up. “You THINK you can pull it off? You ARE gonna pull it off boy and we’re gonna show those Mortons. We’re gonna show ‘em good.”
“Well boys, be that as it may. I just hope somebody doesn’t get hurt or killed in the attempt to show this Barkley superiority. Now enough of this. I haven’t had a decent meal all day. Let’s go inside and see what Silas has cooked up for us, shall we?”
“Right,” agreed Nick with gusto. “I’m starving. Come on Heath old man. Can ya try to hobble any faster?”
“I can run circles around you any time, big brother.” Heath cracked a smile. “You just name the race.”
The earlier tension had been broken and the three brothers walked companionably towards the big house, each anticipating something mouth watering from Silas’ table.
About three miles down the road, two other brothers were making preparations to win the Rodeo at the San Joaquin County fair.
Part 6
“Jarrod!” Victoria had just crossed the foyer when the massive front door opened and in walked her lawyer son back from his two week stint in San Francisco.
Nick and Heath followed him in close behind and shut the door. A quick “hello mother” was called out before both cowboys made a dash for the stairs, hoping to get first dibs on the tub.
Victoria shook her head with amusement at her fleet of foot sons and then turned her attention back to her oldest. “I didn’t know you were coming home today! You should have wired us.”
“Well, the trial ended early so I thought I’d just surprise you, mother.” Jarrod embraced his mother and kissed the top of her silver head.
Holding her son at arms length, Victoria took in her oldest with a trained mother’s eye to make sure he looked well and had been eating properly. “Jarrod,” she announced with a teasing tone, “you’ve put on weight.”
“Now mother, can I help it if they feed me well at the Palace? The chef there sure knows how to satisfy a hungry lawyer.”
“Apparently.” Victoria smiled a knowing smile to her son. “The Palace Hotel certainly is a lovely place. Remember when you took me there last year? Ah! The food was divine but the company,” she linked her arm into Jarrod’s. “The company was beyond compare.”
Victoria and Jarrod had just settled in the Library for a before dinner drink when Nick popped his head in, his hair slicked back wet to his head.
“Well, let me guess,” Jarrod said as he studied his brother. “You won the race for the tub.”
“Yep, this time I did.” Nick walked over and poured himself a whiskey from the decanter.
“I think Heath is gonna be a little on the slow movin’ side this evening after taking that toss from Diablo.”
“Nick, you didn’t tell me Heath fell off a horse.” Victoria’s voice rose in alarm. “And Diablo, isn’t that the wild horse that you said may never be broke? Are you sure Heath wasn’t hurt?”
Nick looked over at Jarrod and gave him a look that said ‘I’ll handle this’ and reached over for his mother’s delicate hand clasping it gently. “He’s okay, mother. He wasn’t hurt. Just got his teeth a little loosened. After a bath, a hot meal and bed, he’ll be as right as rain come tomorrow morning.”
Heath had heard the “after the bath” part of the conversation and walked into the library, buttoning his cuff, hoping he didn’t look like he was favoring his left ankle in any way. He knew that if his mother so much as smelled that he had an injury, she would be on him like a bear onto honey, coddling and fussing and calling for Silas to bring the liniment. Heath did so love this woman who had accepted him as one of her own, but boy howdy, he couldn’t stand to be fussed over.
“Heath. Darling, are you all right?” Victoria gathered up Heath’s big calloused hands into her own soft ones. “Are you hurt?” She looked him in the eye anxiously.
“I’m fine mother. Really. Just a little bruised. Nothing to worry about.” Changing the subject quickly so that his mother wouldn’t start entertaining ideas of getting the dreaded liniment out to soothe his bruises, Heath quickly asked, “when’s supper?” Grinning at Nick he continued. “As my brother over yonder is fond of saying, ‘I’m starvin’.’”
Silas entered the Library and quietly announced that supper was ready. The family minus Audra made their way to the dining room. Nick just assumed that his sister was upstairs, probably resting after one of her all night letter writing sessions. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, he hollered up in his customary thundering voice. “Hey Audra! Supper! You’re gonna be late!”
“NICK! Stop shouting!” Victoria held her hands to her ears and sighed, rolling her eyes. “Audra isn’t here. She went to the Orphanage to help plan the bake sale booth they’re having at the Fair. She should be back later this evening.”
Nick apologized for his volume as they all sat down as a family to enjoy the meal Silas had prepared.
Later that evening after the last dish had been cleared, Heath stood up from the table with a stretch and a yawn. “Well, hope I don’t spoil anyone’s evenin’ but I’m plumb tuckered out. Goin’ to bed. Night all.”
“Good night, Heath. Sleep well.” Victoria brushed a soft kiss on her son’s cheek.
“Night Heath,” Jarrod added.
“Rest up good, boy. We’ve got a lot to do yet to get ya ready for your debut at the fair next week.” Nick smiled with glee and rubbed his hands together enthusiastically. “Yep! Those Mortons won’t know what hit ‘em.”
“Nick!” Victoria’s motherly tone intruded on Nick’s thoughts of winning. “Nick, I think you’re going too far with this ‘win all or nothing’ attitude. I’m afraid it’s really going to get out of hand and someone will get hurt. Look at Heath. Oh, he claimed he wasn’t hurt this afternoon, but know this Nicholas, I saw him limping to the dinner table. You boys can’t fool me. Do you really think the thrill of winning any competition is worth the chance that someone might get injured or worse? And all of it just to say, ‘The Barkleys are better than the Mortons.’ I don’t like it Nick. I don’t like it at all. Maybe we shouldn’t compete at all.”
“NO!”
“Nicholas Jonathan Barkley, lower your voice!”
“Mother! It’s gonna be all right. I’ll watch after him and all the men competing. I won’t let anything happen.”
Victoria sighed with resignation. Her boys weren’t really her “boys” anymore. They were men now and old enough to make their own decisions, wise or not.
“All right Nick. All right. All I’m asking you then is to be careful and watch over your little brother.”
“I will mother.” Nick drew his mother to his chest in a loving embrace. “I promise.”
The day dawned beautiful on the long anticipated day of the Fair. While getting up with the sun usually was reserved for Heath who relished the hues and patterns that each new day presented, today was different. Every Barkley, along with Silas, was up and about, scurrying here and there, making sure their own contributions for the special day were tucked away and secure for the ride out to the vast area on the other side of Stockton where the Fair was to be held.
In the barn and corral, Nick and Heath worked feverishly with their ranch hands to make sure all the horses signed up to participate in the rodeo and other livestock to be presented were ready for travel. Nick had taken charge by assigning an animal or two to each hired man. Their job was to check and recheck their charges to insure that each one was clean, shod properly in the case of a horse and that all were groomed to gleaming. Nick was hoping to win yet another medal for his already champion bull, Prince Oxford and saw to him personally.
“Well boy howdy Nick,” Heath commented as he took a moment away from the other animals and walked over to watch his brother gussy up the Barkley’s prize bull. Heath’s hard tumble off of Diablo the week before had left some bruises and an ankle strain, but nothing too serious. “All that bull needs now are some fancy doodads and ribbons around his horns and I’m sure he would be welcome in any la de da eating establishment this side of San Francisco.”
Nick grunted as he reached around Prince Oxford’s hindquarters with his curry brush. “This bull’s a champion, boy! If yer gonna be a champion, ya better look like one. Ol’ Prince Oxford’s the best damn bull in the valley and he’s gonna strut his stuff with class at the judgin’.”
Heath couldn’t help but chuckle as Nick continued to carefully cater to the massive body of
Bull flesh. “Well Nick, I hope you treat the next lady that you take a fancy to as well as you do that bull. The way you fawn over the Prince there, you’d think you two were courtin’ or somethin’.”
Nick’s head shot up at that last remark and the dark-haired cowboy was about to protest when at the same moment, Prince Oxford decided he’d had enough fussing and chose that moment to bring up a massive hind foot and drop it back down square on Nick’s booted foot.
“BLAST IT HEATH! See what you’ve done made him do?” Nick’s whole face wrinkled in pain as he hopped up and down on his unstomped on foot trying to control the ache of the trodden on foot.
“Wasn’t my fault big brother,” Heath protested with a slight laugh about his voice as he watched his hapless sibling jumping up and down like a Mexican jumping bean that had been shot out of a cannon. “Mr. Royalty there had seen enough of your ugly feet and decided to do his own tap dance on them, is all.”
“Heath!” Nick scowled menacingly and through gritted teeth warned his blond brother, “If you don’t get out of my sight in two seconds, I’m gonna personally jump up and down on both of your feet and see how YOU like it. Y’hear me boy?”
“Yep!” Heath held his hands out in mock fright as he backed away from his fuming brother. “Got the message loud and clear. I’ll just be taking my leave now.” Heath turned and walked a few steps away from Nick only to turn and face him again. “Are ya sure you’re okay, Nick? Can I get ya anything like some padding for your boots for the next time ol’ Prince decides to do a little side step?”
“HEATH!”
“I’m leavin’! I’m leavin’! Sheeesh, nothin’ like an ol’ bear with a mashed paw.” Heath knew that if he stayed any longer, he just might really get hurt, him knowing all too well that he had found the end of Nick’s rope. Scooting out of the end of the barn where Nick was just beginning to feel his toes again, Heath returned to where the rest of the animals were and started the last of the preparations of getting them ready for their trek to where the Fair was being held.
While Jarrod was not presenting anything for judging at the Fair, he knew his mother and sister would have their hands full with their own entries and thought it wise to be on hand to hold things together when invariably Audra would start overly fussing and his mother would want to throw her hands up at the whole thing. Until that time came, and it would, Jarrod thought ruefully to himself, Counselor Barkley tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible by placing himself in a corner of the kitchen by the table, sipping his cup of coffee.
He didn’t have to wait long to offer his services as peacemaker and mood soother. “MOTHER! Where’s my pickles? They were just here in the icebox and now they’re gone. Ooooh, if those brothers of mine ate them, they’ll live to regret it.”
Jarrod chuckled to himself, careful to not let himself be heard in his little corner of the room. Audra tried so hard in her homemaking skills, but it seemed that his little sister and the kitchen just didn’t mix no matter how hard she tried. Jarrod’s two cowboy brothers were notorious for eating everything in sight when they came in hot and hungry off of the range, but in the case of Audra’s pickles, he knew that the only regret Heath and Nick would have if they sampled her delicacy would be a hankering for some real food, and not Audra’s doctored concoctions. He also knew his brothers well and that they would never willingly subject themselves to her creations. The pickles were safe, Jarrod concluded. Probably packed up already by the ever-efficient Silas.
Sure enough, Silas soon came pattering over to soothe the distraught young lady. “Miss Audra, there’s no need to worry none. Your pickles are just fine. Ol’ Silas has them packed up already just waitin' to be loaded into the wagon. See?” Silas beckoned Audra to where he had stored her pickles neatly in a wicker basket with ice chips covering them to keep them fresh.
Audra was placated and Jarrod breathed a sigh of relief as he took another sip of his coffee. One hurdle over and many to jump before I sleep, he mused to himself.
“Oh Jarrod, can you help me get these quilts in the wagon,” Victoria inquired, her voice muffled as she stepped through the kitchen with her small frame loaded down with homemade quilts to be judged and auctioned for the benefit of the Orphanage.
“Here, lovely lady. Let me take these.” Setting down his cup, Jarrod jumped up and took the mountain of quilts from his mother’s arms. “You just tell me where you want them and it will be done.”
“Set them in the second seat of the covered carriage. That ought to keep the dust off of them.”
Jarrod did as he was instructed and afterwards, found himself fetching and carrying for the next hour as things started to come together for the trip to the Fair.
Down the road and across the fields, the Mortons were also getting ready for the Fair.
“Ya sure ya got ‘em, J.R.?”
“Yep, Zach. They’re right here in the bag. Ain’t no Barkley gonna take that rodeo title away from us Mortons. Not without a fight.”
“You’ve got that right brother.” Zach eyed the canvas bag that his brother was holding deliberately at arms length. “We’ve got that rodeo title in the bag.” Laughing like a hyena at his own joke, Zach climbed up onto their buckboard after his brother and started off towards the Fair and to what they had planned as being a glorious winning day of ropin’ and ridin’, Morton style.
Driving their way on the well-worn road to Stockton, the Barkley clan descended upon the grounds of the Fair with their caravan of plucky horses confined in high wooden slatted wagons and ambling cattle driven at a leisurely pace. Prince Oxford brought up the rear regally, him moseying on down the road with an air of superiority, like that bestowed upon a champion. It was a slow process but finally they pulled up to the grounds. Heath and Nick quickly got their men in order and started off towards the stalls where the animals were to be housed for the next four days.
Just stepping onto the grounds, one could feel an air of excitement already swirling about of the wonderful things to come. The smells, the sounds, the tastes of the Fair were all there just begging to be enjoyed, even though the gates admitting the public were not due to open for another four hours. Children left to their own devices snuck through gated entries and cracked boards. Lads looking for small wages crowded around cowboys entering with their animals, offering their services for anything from currying and grooming to manure disposal and stall upkeep. Nick, ever impatient to move ahead, swatted off four young boys who attempted to surround him as he lead his prize bull to its home away from home.
“Curry your animal, mister?”
“Need a stall cleaner, mister? Ten cents a day.”
Quickly enough, the boys read Nick as a man not to be messed with as he shooed them away with both his gruff voice and tough, “don’t mess with me”, body language.
Heath, who whether it was because he was second in line behind the boisterous Nick or because his quiet nature just seemed to camouflage him to his surroundings, was not being entreated at all by the young boys begging coins for their services. Having his own hands full of ornery horseflesh, Heath couldn’t help but observe the children clamoring around his rough and tough sibling.
“Ya know, Nick, I used to look for odd jobs at our little mining camp carnivals when they’d come to town ‘bout once a year, just like these youngins.”
“Is that a fact,” Nick growled, wiping his sleeve across his sweaty brow, annoyed that already the sun was starting to beat down hard and it was only 8:00 o’clock in the morning. Nick was in a hurry to get his bull housed and settled, with hopes that the shaded stall would calm the massive animal that also seemed bothered by the early heat of the day.
Heath couldn’t help but to reflect on his own boyhood, not being dissuaded by Nick’s gruffness. So whether his brother appreciated the trip or not, Heath continued his stroll down memory lane with brother Nick in tow.
“Why I remember one year, I got a really prime job working in the Fun House. You know, with the mazes and mirrors? My job was to jump out of a box, sort of like a jack-in-the-box, and scare the people that came by. I remember after doing that for two days, I was hoarse for a week.” Nick grunted in response and played the part of a man with just one thing on his mind and that was getting his pampered bull under shelter and bedded down until the judging come Saturday. In reality, unbeknownst to Heath, Nick chuckled to himself, trying to picture his brother scaring anyone with that quiet voice of his.
“Why Nick,” Heath was oblivious to Nick’s inner thoughts. “You’d of made a great jack-in-the-box. With a bellow like yours, you would’ve had anyone that walked by, running for cover.”
“Heath!” Nick turned to glare at his little brother. “You’re not funny.”
“Oh, I don’t know big brother. It was funny to me.”
“Come on, let’s get a move on. The day sure ain’t getting any cooler, that’s for sure.” Nick spotted the temporary stalls for cattle ahead and pulled on Prince Oxford’s rope trying to prod the lagging star stud forward, while Heath flicked the reins of the horses pulling the wagon that carried two skitterish horses and peeled off to the left toward the makeshift horse stalls. Charlie Fisher brought up the rear with the wild Diablo who was confined in his own wagon. Heath could see between the slats the bad tempered Diablo bucking and snorting to free himself of his prison. Boy howdy, he thought to himself, how’d Nick talk me into riding that wild one? This had better be a good ride or somebody might wind up getting hurt and that somebody might be me.
High noon and the gates for this year’s San Joaquin County Fair are officially open!
People from all over the valley were pouring in through the main gate, cheerfully plopping down a quarter an adult head and a dime for their little ones. Fair time was a happy time. It was the signal for some well earned rest and relaxation from after yet another year of tilling the sometimes unyielding soil or traipsing after cattle, who always seemed to think the grass was greener in the neighbor’s meadow rather than in their own. Even large families who counted every penny usually splurged at Fair time, knowing that at least once a year, they could provide a good social time for their children along with allowing them some of the trappings of the Fair like giant dill pickles, corn on the cob, rock candy and a magical ride on the portable carousel.
Victoria was busy with Audra in the section of the food tent that housed a mouth-watering variety of relishes and condiments. The condiments judging would be taking place soon so that each item tasted would still be fresh.
“Oh mother, do you really think they taste all right?” Audra worriedly took a tiny nibble from the container holding her famous pickled cucumbers.
“Of course dear. I’m sure the judges will think they are delightful, except for one thing.”
“What?” Audra looked alarmed.
“There won’t be anything to judge if you keep nibbling at them.”
Audra smiled nervously. “Sorry mother. What about my sweet pickles? Do you think they’ll win a ribbon?”
Victoria sighed. Sometimes that daughter of hers was just too high strung for her own good. “Audra, they’ll show nicely, I’m sure. Remember, this is a new entry for you this year. Honestly, we’ll just have to wait and see.”
“I know. It’s just that I’m so nervous. I’ll try to be calm.”
Victoria looked over at her beautiful blonde daughter and gave her a smile of encouragement. “I know you will darling. You’ll do just fine. Well,” she swept her hand towards the table with Audra’s offerings and said with lightness, “I think we’ve done all we can here. Why don’t we take a look around and see what our competition looks like?”
“Yes, let’s do,” replied Audra enthusiastically. Smiling at the ladies gathered around their table looking at Audra’s sweet pickles and pickled cucumbers, Audra graciously excused herself and walked stately with her mother as they made their rounds, visiting with the other entrants whom they knew from Stockton and round about.
Nick untied his bandanna and mopped it across his sweaty face. He pulled out his pocket watch and his eyebrows shot up when he realized he’d been messing with livestock the whole morning into the afternoon. It was now 1:30 and his belly growled at him saying it was way past time for lunch. Making last minute work assignments with his men, Nick gratefully left the stalls where the cattle, including one lounging Prince Oxford, were now comfortably bedded down for the duration of the fair. His eyes roved about the crowd hoping to land on Heath as his long sturdy legs carried him towards the stables where his brother had been working with the horses that would be used in this year’s rodeo.
Heath stepped out into the throng of fairgoers, also tired and as hungry as a bear after examining and housing horses all morning long. He hadn’t stepped far from the stables when he saw the familiar black hat of his tall brother amongst the crowd heading his way. He chuckled to himself as he thought; it’s a good thing Nick is the head of the ranch and the one he was partnered with. If Eugene, their much shorter, college-bound brother were the boss, Heath was sure that boy would get lost in the crowd and they’d never find him.
“Hey Nick!” Heath raised his hand in a wave to catch his brother’s attention.
Nick gave him a wave of acknowledgement and strode over to where his blond brother stood. “Did ya get those horses housed all right?”
“Yep. It’s all taken care of.”
“How’s Diablo doing?”
“Oh, he don’t cotton to bein’ penned up. Can’t say that I blame him, but he’ll be awright.”
“Charlie with him?”
“Yep.”
“You hungry”
“And how.”
“Well, we can take our chances and see what kind of fair grub we can chow down on or,” Nick grinned a toothy smile. “We can go back to the buggy and see if Silas packed us some REAL food. I’m for lookin’ to see what’s in Silas’ basket, whaddya say?”
“Boy howdy Nick, I could eat a horse. Let’s go see what kind of grub Silas packed.”
“Good! We can get what we need from the buggy and get a beer to go with it. Sound good?”
“Sounds great big brother. I’ll even buy.”
Nick looked appreciatively at his presently generous brother. “Well, I’ll just let ya, boy. How’s that?”
Nick and Heath hurried to the buggy that their mother and sister had ridden in this morning and much to their delight, they found that Silas had packed a bountiful hamper full of roast beef sandwiches, coleslaw, potato salad and for dessert, chocolate cake cut into squares. Piling their bounty on plates, the Barkley brothers lithely maneuvered through the crowd coming quickly enough on to the beer garden that had been set up to satisfy thirsty fairgoers.
“Remember, you said you were buying,” Nick reminded his brother.
“I remember Nick,” the blond said with a half smile and gave his order to the tender of the beer.
The men weren’t long into their meal when they heard the now familiar taunting voices of Zach and J.R. Morton.
“Well, if it ain’t our, er, competition! Better go light on that beer boys. Ya wouldn’t want your mind all foggy like when ya get on that bronc of yours.”
Nick bristled at the sarcastic voice of Zach Morton. Turning around with a scowl to face the rival cowboys, Nick hissed between his teeth, “Don’t you worry about nothin’. We’re ready for you Mortons, don’t think we ain’t.”
“Is that a fact?” Zach turned to his brother with a mock worried look. “They say they’re ready for us, brother. D’ya think they really know what they’re talkin’ about?”
“I’d say not, brother,” J.R. replied with a laugh. “I’d say they don’t know nothin’ about what they done gone off and chewed. ‘Magine they’ll be eatin’ them thar words come this evenin’.”
“Yep,” Zach turned his attention the two brothers at the bar and to Nick in particular. He made sure he sounded good and threatening. “You bet they will. We’re gonna make you eat your words, Barkley. And then you’re gonna pay up.” Addressing Heath, he continued in a slow dripping voice. “And ain’t no bastard Barkley gonna stop us.”
Before either Barkley could jump up in defense, Zach concluded with a voice that anyone could pick out as being menacing, “See ya tonight in the ring, cowboy. Yer gonna take a fall that you won’t soon forget.”
Laughing, the two Morton brothers swaggered away from the makeshift beer bar leaving Nick and Heath red-faced and fuming. Both wanted to go after the two bullies but knew that they could best settle their score in the rodeo ring with a flawless ride. Victory would be sweet. Sweet indeed.
This year, the County Fair League had decided to try something different for the annual Rodeo. Instead of having the whole rodeo on one day, they thought that maybe fair attendance would be higher if they split the events up over three days. The first event would be the barrel racing early on the first eve of the fair followed by the saddle bronc busting event. Friday evening’s fare would be serving up the calf-roping event followed by bareback riding. Saturday would be a day off for the cowboys and Sunday would conclude with the bull-riding event.
Tension was mounting in the Barkley corner as ring time for the saddle bronc busting event drew closer. Charlie Fisher knew about the Morton’s threats directed toward Heath, and while he knew Heath to be a fine rider, he had a dread feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong.
The horses to be ridden were called to the chutes at 7:30, a half hour before show time. Victoria and Audra sat in the crowd, taking in the sights around them. Audra was bright and smiling, as she had been awarded first place by the judges for her prized pickled cucumbers. Her sweet pickles had earned a respectable third place ribbon. Victoria’s quilts would go under the critical eye of the judges on Saturday where after they would be auctioned off, with all proceeds going to the Orphanage where both Victoria and her daughter spent many hours in volunteer service. Whoops and hollers could be heard from the crowd as the barrel racing, featuring some of the county’s best junior riders, started this year’s county fair off with a bang.
Charlie hurried over to where Diablo was unwillingly being herded into a chute by Heath and another strong ranch hand. “Easy fella. No need to be ornery now. You’re goin’ in that chute nice and easy and that’s that.” Heath skillfully ducked past flailing upraised hooves as he held on to Diablo’s rope and sweet-talked the wild stallion into entering the confined quarters. “It won’t be for long, boy. Then you and me, we’re gonna put on a show and you can kick and buck ‘til your heart’s content.”
“Heath?” Charlie was getting more concerned with every passing minute. The cowhand placed a strong hand on Heath’s shoulder.
With the wild bronco finally saddled and secure in the chute, the young blond cowboy turned his steady blue gaze toward the slightly older man. It wasn’t hard to see the worry creasing Charlie’s brow.
“Charlie, what is it? What’s wrong?”
Charlie knew that what he was about to say was not going to go over well, but he had to try. Heath was not only his boss but also a friend whom he cared about, as well as respected. “Heath, I’d like to ride Diablo tonight, whaddya say?”
Heath raised a questioning eyebrow. “But Charlie why? Thought it was already decided that I’d give him a whirl tonight.”
“I could ride ‘im Heath. I know I could”
“Charlie, you’re a good rider. Heck I’d even say you’re one of the best but you’re not practiced on this animal. You don’t know his moves. You could really bust yourself up good. Why would you want to take that kind of chance?”
Charlie squirmed and ran his hand nervously through his hair. “It’s just that,” he couldn’t get out into words what he feared was about to take place. Charlie fidgeted some more and tried again. “It’s just that, that I’m worried about what those Morton’s might do, Heath. You know they’ve got a reputation for not playin’ fair. You weren’t here two years ago when there was another competition between the Mortons and the Richardsons brothers, Cal and Cody. It was the roping event. The Morton’s had a bundle riding on their winning, just like they do now with you and Nick. Somehow, though nobody could say they SAW them do it, the rope that the Richardsons used to lasso their calf split and broke just as it caught on the calf. Cody was whipped off his horse and broke his arm. Like I say, the judges or no one else could prove foul play so the Mortons won the event and won the money from those brothers without one word of concern from them about Cody’s injury. It was a bad bone break too. Couldn’t set it proper because of multiple fractures. When you see Cody in town, ya ever wonder why he carries his left arm kinda crooked?”
Heath furrowed his brow and rubbed his hand over his chin. “I always kinda wondered about that.”
“Well now ya know the story. The Mortons did it to him. They ain’t no good, the whole lot of ‘em. Ol’ Rufus, he’s learnt those boys to be what they are today and that’s cussed mean. Says he’s teachin’ ‘em to be real men and not to be ascart of nuthin’.”
“Well, I don’t think they can do anything tonight,” Heath said, trying to ease Charlie’s mind. “We’re all gonna be right here. Don’t think they’d be able to pull off anything.” Heath looked past Charlie for a moment. “Here comes Nick now. You tell him what you’ve told me. That way we can all be extra vigilant to any shenanigans that the Mortons might be meanin’ to pull.” Looking at his brother approaching, Heath grumbled under his breath. “Wonder where the devil he’s been? All the hard work’s done, gettin’ that horse in the chute and now he shows up to help.” Placing what he hoped to be a reassuring hand on Charlie’s shoulder, Heath looked the troubled cowboy in the eye and gave him his trademark half smile. “You just sit tight now and let me get a handle on that stallion. We’re gonna ride that ol’ boy into the ground and come up smellin’ like a rose. You just keep your eyes open to any trouble, ya hear?” Heath squeezed Charlie’s shoulder warmly and turned to his older brother who was inspecting Diablo’s chute with a critical eye.
“Where ya been Nick?” Heath followed to where Nick’s eyes were taking in the security of the bronc’s confinement.
“See he’s all set. That saddle cinched tight? Ya have any trouble with him?”
“Yeah, he’s all ready to go. Yeah, the saddle is cinched and no, we didn’t have any real trouble. Everything to your liking?” Heath couldn’t help but be a little mordant in his reply to his vanishing-when-there-was work- to-be-done sibling. “So where were ya when we were here bustin’ our butts gettin’ that stallion settled? I wouldn’t say what we were doing was a barrel of laughs. Coulda used another set of hands, if ya know what I mean.”
Nick fingered his hat and answered contritely that he had to look in on Prince Oxford to make sure the men in charge were giving him the correct amount of his special feed and that he was getting just the right amount of water in his portable trough.
“And of course, everything was just fine once you checked in on it, right?”
“Yeah, yeah it was. Hey what’s wrong with you?” Nick scowled at Heath catching his brother’s sarcastic tone.
“Nuthin’ Nick. It’s just that I’m the one riding this beast. Just would have thought I’d have had my big brother here helping me get ready for this wild ride. I swear that dumb bull gets treated better than some family members.” Heath looked at Nick with a pout on his lips, but his eyes were laughing. He knew how much that bull meant to Nick. Heath had already forgiven his brother, but wasn’t ready to tell him yet.
Nick, though, was very perceptive of Heath’s facial features and consequently could read his brother easily.
Knowing that all had been forgiven, still, he’d let Heath play out his hand but first it was Nick’s turn at the game.
“Only want what best for a champion.”
“Yeah well, I’m plannin’ on doin’ some winnin’ myself big brother. Wouldn’t mind some champion attention m’self. How about after I win this event, you buying me drinks at Annie’s for the next month?”
Nick thought about it for a second and then getting into the spirit of winning, swiped off his hat and banged it across his knees with a yell. “Yeehaw! You win boy and we’ll let that bet of the Morton’s buy BOTH of us drinks for the next YEAR!”
Heath remembered that he’d promised to help calm Charlie’s fears of poor sportsmanship from the Morton’s by telling Nick to keep his eyes open to anything strange going on with the Mortons.
“Nick, Charlie seems to think that the Mortons might try to play a little dirty pool at the riding tonight. Said something about an incident that happened with the Richardson’s two years ago.”
“That’s right.” Nick furrowed his brow as he reflected on that past event. “They never could prove it was the Mortons that caused Cody’s rope to break but it was determined that somehow that rope had been tampered with. Better check Diablo’s bronc rein for splits, cuts or frays.”
“I’ll have Charlie check the rein again once I’m mounted,” Heath said. “Saddle is sound and tight. Guess we’re ready to go.”
“Awright then brother. Let’s go out and you show us a good time!” Nick slapped Heath on the back and the two cowboys headed to the chutes where contestants where readying themselves for their eight seconds of fame in the big ring.
Heath climbed up on the planks of the chute and sat on the boards through the first five contestants. The Morton’s had drawn the fourth spot with J.R. riding. A good ride put the younger brother in first place. Now Heath’s turn was up after two more cowboys so he carefully eased himself into the saddle onto Diablo’s back. By the pick of a draw, he would be the last rider of the night. Wrapping the rein around his hand, Heath concentrated on what needed to be done. Stay straight in the saddle. Let the horse do the work. Move with Diablo’s moves. When it was time to dismount, do it with as much grace as possible, staying clear of those deadly hooves.
“Mike Watson is the next up.” Heath was trying to get his bearings and barely heard the announcer. “Mike hails from Lodi where his family ranches two thousand acres and has interests in several mining operations. This cowboy will be riding Hurricane, so named for its reputation as a real spinner. Here’s Mike Watson on Hurricane!”
The roar of the crowd faded as Heath concentrated with every fiber of his being on the ride ahead. Diablo was a rank animal, hard to ride for even the most seasoned of riders. The blond cowboy perched ready to be thrown out of the chute when he heard his name up next.
“Our last rider of the evening is a local Stockton resident from one of our area’s most prominent families. Next in the ring will be Heath Barkley riding Diablo. A real honker of an animal. You’ll wanna watch this young rider, ladies and gentleman as Heath Barkley tries to tame this wild stallion for his eight second ride.”
As soon as the announcer’s introduction ended, Heath gave a nod and Diablo’s chute was opened. Heath and horse appeared fast and furious into the ring. Bucking and whirling angrily, Diablo strived to relieve himself of the man on his back. Heath was riding well, staying straight up in the saddle and keeping his left hand high in the air.
Suddenly something didn’t feel right to the blond cowboy. Diablo was screeching a high pitch cry and flailed uncharacteristically forward, causing Heath to sail over the horses head. Heath felt like he was hanging suspended in the air until the ground suddenly rushed up to meet him with a hard fast stop. Heath heard a sickening crack and felt red-hot pain shoot through his right leg causing him to cry out in agony. The back of his head crashed hard against the dirt floor of the arena making Heath feel instantly sick to his stomach but only for a moment. The excruciating pain of his leg mercifully allowed him to pass out. Diablo squealed horribly as in pain and fell to his knees, bucking convulsively and then was still and silent. It all happened so fast. The crowd looking on were completely hushed for a moment, not sure if what they were seeing was real or not. Victoria’s hand flew to her mouth and Audra gripped her mother’s arm with a scream escaping from her lips. Nick along with Charlie and the other hands down by the chute were running to the ring where Diablo fell and Heath lay unmoving. Fair officials came running trying to see what had happened. Nick’s long legs carried him to the side of the ring first where Heath lay and he was first to see the cause of this horrific accident. Five rattle snakes slithered along the ground in a mad dash for a hiding place out from the open arena. A canvas feed bag lay carelessly discarded under the risers along the arena wall. Nick yelled for the rest of the men running into the ring to stop and warned of the dangerous situation. Taking his six-shooter, Nick quickly, with lightning precision, shot dead the rattling, squirming serpents. While most of the men had hurried over to the fallen horse, Nick and Charlie raced to Heath’s side. The young cowboy lay completely still. Nick was horrified and taking Heath into his arms, he hollered for someone to find a doctor. Skillfully, Nick ran his hands over his brother’s body feeling for broken bones. Experienced hands soon landed upon a jutted out bone in Heath’s upper right thigh. Nick also was quick to find a large lump on the back of Heath’s head where the cowboy had hit the dirt so hard in his untimely fall. Nick knew that the doctor would soon be here to minister to his brother but even the short wait for medical attention seemed like an eternity to the shaken cowboy.
The crowd was in a frenzy of ghastly excitement and attendants and others worked hard to keep the crowds from swarming into the ring. Victoria and Audra quickly made it through the throng however and were soon down in the arena beside the fallen man. “Nick! What happened!” Her face paled when she saw the obvious injury to her son’s leg. “Oh my God. Heath!” Victoria gingerly took Heath’s head into her hands and kissed his cheek. Looking up at her middle son, her eyes said it all as did her words. “Why Nick? Why?”
“I don’t know mother.” Nick eyes looked fierce and dark. The Mortons! Speaking through clenched teeth with rage directed toward the men who had done this to his brother, Nick proclaimed, “But know this, if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll see to it that those Mortons pay for what they’ve done tonight.”
Doctor Merar was jostling his way through the crowd that had gathered despite the men placed in authority to disburse the throng and keep people away from the scene that was now an official crime scene.
The good doctor had seen many a banged up cowboy in his day and was accustomed to removing bullets, taping ribs and cleaning up bloodied faces. He was a seasoned veteran in the field. So it surprised him when his own stomach gave a lurch when he saw the raw bone protruding from Heath’s femur. Trying to maintain an air of professionalism, he swallowed the sick feeling that made his belly feel like gelatin.
“That leg is going to be a huge concern, I’m afraid,” the doctor said directing his comments to the family who now included Jarrod, who had forgone the rodeo to take time to speak to Judge Herman about an upcoming trial on his books. Word had spread fast about the snakes in the arena and Heath’s injury. Jarrod was just making his way back to his office with some briefs when young Tommy Marks, who worked in the livery, ran up to him with the dreadful news.
“Mr. Barkley! Mr. Barkley!” Tommy was out of breath and in an awful agitated state when he reached Jarrod on the boardwalk outside of Jarrod’s office.
“Whoa Tommy boy. What is it? What’s wrong?” Jarrod was thinking that something had happened at the livery. “Settle down now. It can’t be that bad.”
“Mr. Barkley!” Tommy panted and gasped, hardly able to catch his breath. “The rodeo. Your brother. He’s hurt real bad.”
Why Jarrod’s mind immediately flashed to Nick, he didn’t know. Was it because “brother” was such a new title associated with Heath that his mind unconsciously didn’t register the relationship yet? Heath! Was it Heath that was hurt? Tommy hadn’t said.
“Tommy! Who was hurt? Was it Nick?”
Nick was as strong as a bull. If he had taken a fall, his sheer stubbornness and pigheadedness would be sure to pull him through. Now Heath. Jarrod wasn’t sure about Heath. Oh the boy could be cussed stubborn, Jarrod knew that. Why, that boy had shown his grit that night when Nick had practically hauled him in bodily into the house. That first night. That night that this blond stranger had proclaimed to all in no uncertain terms that he was kin. That he was the bastard son of Tom Barkley. But Heath was of weaker frame than Nick though you could never have convinced the young blond of that. Years of hard work and borderline malnutrition had, in a way, made Heath frail of sorts. Oh, he could work the ranch with the best of hands and did so six days a week but the family knew that his body often suffered the consequences of overwork, manifesting itself in stiff muscles that would only loosen with frequent scalding hot soaks in the tub. Heath’s weakened lungs from the boy’s admission to working in the mines of Strawberry, starting at the age of seven, also seemed to make him susceptible to any little virus that passed through the valley. These viruses usually managed to settle in Heath’s chest, causing him labored breathing and as a result, sent him to the bed for days at a time.
“No! No Mr. Barkley! Not Nick. It’s Heath. Hurry Mr. Barkley. Looks like he’s in a bad way.”
Jarrod looked down at the boy with alarmed blue eyes and at the same time, kindness towards the boy. “Thank you Tommy. You’re a good boy. I’m on my way to the arena.”
Untying his horse, Jarrod quickly mounted and in no time descended upon the arena where the rodeo had taken place. Those in the crowd who knew him parted with low words of sympathy as the worried brother made his way to the main show ring where the stricken horse lay dead and his brother lay ever so still with the rest of the family hovering over him. Doctor Merar continued to assess his patient’s condition wanting to get him moved as quickly as possible into a more sanitary environment. Jarrod, along with the rest of the Barkleys listened as the Doctor spoke after his initial examination of their badly injured family member.
“He has a bad lump on the back of his head. May be concussion,” the doctor guessed. “I won’t know for sure until I get him back to my office. It’s probably the best thing that he’s out cold right now. We’re going to have to move him and with that leg, it isn’t going to be any picnic. If he were conscious, it would be worse.”
Speaking to no one in particular, the doctor requested that a wagon be brought into the ring so that he could transport his patient. Charlie, who was listening to every word of the doctor’s initial diagnosis, was the first to volunteer. He quickly maneuvered a wagon into the ring and with skillful direction by the doctor, Nick, Charlie and Jarrod gingerly picked Heath up, careful not to move his broken leg in any way and placed him onto the nest of blankets that had been arranged so that his ride to the Doctor’s office would be as cushioned as possible. Nick rode at the reins, nudging the two horse team gently as the wagon moved away from the rodeo site out onto the road that would take them to Doc Merar’s office about a mile away. Nick with Jarrod beside him drove in complete silence. Victoria and Audra were being transported to town with Charlie in another buggy. Jarrod stole a glance at his brother. The oldest Barkley son knew the moods of his younger brother well. He knew that Nick’s mind was already whirling with thoughts of how to get to the bottom of why this had happened to Heath. The young blond had not been with the family for very long but already there was the fiercest of loyalty that Nick only afforded to those to whom he felt deeply about. No one would be able to stand in the way of his hot-tempered sibling when he was on a mission to right a wrong, especially if it was over a cherished family member, his beloved brother.
Doc Merar carefully tended to Heath as the wagon slowly moved towards his office in town. The doctor, however, was most unsettled about the injury to Heath’s leg. To his trained eye, though there was definitely a piece of bone visible through the flesh, he didn’t see any excessive bleeding. The bone didn’t slice the main artery. The bone break was terrible enough and the big worry would be infection. It would have been an almost impossible situation if the artery had been severed. The young cowboy certainly wouldn’t have had any chance and would have surely bled to death before any real medical help could have reached him. Still, the young man’s chances were slim indeed that he’d survive this gross injury. The doctor had to admit that though he was well practiced in removing bullets, patching up cuts and mending simple broken bones, he was simply out of his league with this type of injury.
What this boy needed was surgery. Surgery that could only be performed in a true hospital setting with Orthopedic Specialists. San Francisco had such a facility. The question was, did they have the time? And if they had the time, would Heath be able to endure the jostling of the train? The answer, the doctor realized, was not a simple one. If Heath stayed here and he himself tried to treat the young Barkley with the equipment that he had on hand, the boy would probably not live out the week. If he put the injured man on the train now, he may not survive the trip but at least he would stand a chance. If he made it to the City, he would be in the best of care by specialists who would be able to perform the needed surgery to bind the bone back into the skeletal frame. Specialists and a facility that would have the equipment needed to counteract the infection that was most likely already setting in. The doctor sighed as he looked down at the ashen young man who though unconscious, his eyes fluttered beneath his lids, his face contorted and his chest heaved. The pain had to be great and Heath was feeling it through the swaddling layers of deep sleep.
The wagon pulled slowly eased and stopped at Dr. Merar’s doorstep. The doctor jumped down from the wagon, being careful not to bounce it in his descent. He had come to a decision and rushed over to confer with the family what Heath’s chances would be if he stayed and was treated in Stockton versus the care and better chances he’d have if they put him on the next train to San Francisco to be cared for in a larger medical facility with specialists who strictly dealt with matters pertaining to the correction or prevention of skeletal deformities and injuries.
Victoria agreed readily with the doctor as did Jarrod that Heath’s best chances for survival was to go to San Francisco. Audra was still in shock over what had happened and would go along with whatever the rest of the family agreed to. Nick, however, was not so sure this was the best course of action. Nick was not known for his patience in the best of settings. And now his brother, his new brother whom he had already developed a deep bond with, needed medical attention and all Nick could think of was he needed it NOW. They didn’t have time to go the four hours it would take to get to Frisco.
“Nick, I’ll be there right with him doing what I can until we get there.” The doctor was hoping he was convincing the strong willed middle son of the equally strong willed Victoria Barkley.
“Nick, we can all go and be with him.” Victoria knew that she most likely was getting to the crux of the matter. Nick was afraid to be left behind. Afraid that he wouldn’t be with his brother should he, God forbid, not survive the trip. She further went on with her quest for understanding from her dark-haired impetuous son.
“We’ll hitch up the Barkley car to the midnight train. That’s only a half an hour from now. We should get to the hospital just after dawn. Please Nick. It’s for the best. We’ve got to give him the best chance. Don’t you see?”
“All right.” Nick’s eyes fell to looking at the ground. “If you all really think that this is the best thing for Heath,” raising his eyes to his mother again, “I’ll go along with it.”
“Good.” Victoria smiled a small smile of gratitude towards her son. Cupping Nick face in her hands, she reached up and kissed him tenderly. Turning to Jarrod, she requested that he make the arrangements for their private train car to be hooked up to the westbound train leaving the Stockton depot at midnight. Turning to Doctor Merar, who had been such a big part of their family in medical matters over the years, Victoria searched her old friend’s face looking for answers and encouragement. “What do you think his chances are, Howard?”
Encircling her tiny hands in his larger ones, Howard Merar hoped that his next words would promote hope and courage not only to Victoria but also to the other members of the family who were turned towards him, hanging on to his every utterance.
Taking a deep breath, he began. “There is always hope. Heath is a strong lad, but right now he is badly broken. While hope is essential in this fight, and make no mistake about it, this is going to be a big fight, right now; you’re all going to have to have a good dose of courage and fortitude. Even though you think Heath can’t hear us right now, he still needs to know that we’re, YOU’RE going to be there for him every step of the way on the road to his recovery. Yes, I said recovery. We can’t think any way else except that he WILL survive this accident. Do you understand?”
“Doctor,” Nick looked to the elderly man with pleading eyes, his voice cracking. “I just want my brother back. Please! Please help him.”
“I will Nick. We all will help him,” the good doctor said assuringly. “We’re helping him best now by getting him the best medical treatment available. Be strong Nick. Be strong for your brother.”
Jarrod came back from the depot with the news that the private car would be ready to be hooked up to the
incoming train as soon as it arrived in approximately fifteen minutes. Once the car was hooked up, they could carefully move Heath into a compartment with a bed and room for the doctor to continue his treatment.
Doctor Merar positioned Victoria to watch over the unconscious patient while he hurried to send a telegraph to San Francisco General Hospital informing them of the train coming in from Stockton due to arrive in the City at 4:00 am. He requested that a wagon suitable for transporting critically injured patients be made ready and at their disposal upon arrival. The aging doctor braced himself as he walked back to the wagon and the distraught family. It was going to be a long night. A long night indeed.
With extreme caution, Heath, was placed gently on a ready bed in the sleeping compartment of the private car. Audra looked away involuntarily as her brother was laid on the turned down bed. His leg dangled at a sickening angle and a hint of open bone could be seen through the torn cloth of Heath’s jeans. Heath moaned as his body was laid to rest of the bed.
Addressing the family who were all present, though cramped in the small compartment, Dr. Merar spoke. “I believe the best thing for Heath right now is to keep him as comfortable as possible. That means keeping him unconscious. With that in mind, I’m going to give him a rather large injection of morphine which will not only work to numb the pain he would be feeling terribly if he were awake but will also allow him to stay in a deep sleep. While he’s out, I can work with that leg to sanitize the wound and splint it somewhat. That will keep it immobile during the trip and during transport from here to the waiting wagon and then on to the hospital. Obviously, I can’t put the bone back together because of the severity of the break. That’s what we hope the Doctors will be able to do in San Francisco. In the meantime, I can work at bandaging that nasty head wound. Now, a word of warning.” The doctor paused to make sure everyone’s attention was directed to himself. “Because of the severity of his injury, the morphine may not take completely and he might become restless. Victoria? And you too, Nick and Jarrod. Your job is to try to keep him calm. You might have to do that in several different ways. Victoria, you can talk softly to him. His subconscious will hear your voice. It may help to comfort him. Nick? Jarrod? I may need your strength. The worse thing for this boy right now would be for him to thrash about and that’s what he’ll do when his brain gets the message from the rest of his body that he has received a grievous injury. I need for him to stay as still as possible to prevent further damage to that leg. The artery has not been severed but if he were to flay about, it could nick it and that could cause bleeding that may be extremely hard to get under control. Do you understand?”
Jarrod was the first to speak. “Yes Doctor. We’ll do our best to keep him still. What about the movement of the train? Will that do any damage?”
“Only if we were to come to a sudden stop or if there was something on the tracks that would cause the train to hitch severely.”
Nick looked over at his oldest brother with knitted brows and spoke quietly. “These tracks aren’t the best, I know that. You up to the task pappy?”
Jarrod looked at his raven-haired brother, with eyes of blue fire. “Do we have a choice?”
Jarrod wasn’t expecting an answer back and was not disappointed when no answer was forthcoming from his normally free speaking younger brother. All anyone had to do was to see how Nick looked at Heath to know how he felt about his youngest brother. It was a look of almost possessive protection. Nick and Heath had a special bond that even though Jarrod was kin to both men, and was loved by each one of them, he knew he did not possess that special connection that was deep to the core, like his two younger siblings had for each other. To know Nick was to know Heath and to love Heath, you had to love Nick equally. Joined at the heart, those two brothers were. Tonight someone had tried to sever that bond and Jarrod knew that Nick would not just sit back and let it happen without seeking retribution. Jarrod could only hope that Nick would limit his retaliation to the confines of the law and not overstep its bounds. He also prayed that Nick would allow it to rest until Heath was well on the road to recovery, if he were to recover at all. Right now Heath needed Nick by his side. Jarrod was confident that it would be Nick, more than anyone else, who could persuade Heath to hold on to that thin string of life even when the odds were against all hope.
Nick looked towards the Doctor, who was fixing to partially splint Heath’s leg. “We’ll try to do everything you want us to do. Just do me a favor, huh?”
Doctor Merar looked up, his soft gray eyes meeting Nick’s hazel ones. “What’s that Nick?”
“Don’t give up on him Doc. He’s my brother and I need him around. Don’t give up on him.”
“You’ve got my word on that, Nick. It’s gonna be a long hard road, but we’re gonna pull this boy through, together.”
Victoria moved forward into the compartment and placed her small hand on Nick’s shoulder. “We’re gonna get him through this, sweetheart. Have faith. He will pull through.”
Nick looked down into the face of his mother. Such a tiny little lady but with a will as strong as steel. Reaching for her other hand, he placed it in his large calloused one and said in a hoarse whisper, “He’s got to make it, mother. He’s just got to.”
Jarrod looked toward the doorway and saw Audra standing alone. She was softly crying. Moving towards her, he drew her to himself in what he hoped would be a gesture of comfort.
“Oh Jarrod.” Audra sobbed into his shoulder.
“There, there honey.” He rubbed her back comfortingly. “Things look grim now, but it’s going to get better. If we can be strong for Heath, it will help him to get strong so that he can get well. We’ve got to try, Audra. Can you do that? Can you be strong for Heath?”
Audra looked up at her brother, her blue eyes pooling with tears. Sniffing, she straightened her shoulders, blotted her tears and took a deep breath. “I’ll try Jarrod. I’ll really try.”
“That’s a good girl. This is a family mission. Between all of us, we’re going to will that brother of ours to such a state of good health, he’ll forget he ever had a broken leg.”
Audra dabbed her eyes again and smiled up at Jarrod. “I kind of doubt that he’ll forget about ever breaking his leg, big brother.” Audra knew Jarrod was exaggerating with the view of cheering her up. “But at least we can get him walking again, can’t we.”
Jarrod looked with brotherly affection at his only sister. Pleased that she was willing to swallow her fragile feelings in favor of doing what was best to help her new brother, who would need all things positive, to get him through this ordeal.
Fair officials, along with the Sheriff, worked long and hard into the night. They combed the arena where the hideous accident had taken place, obtaining bits and pieces of evidence that could point at this unfortunate incident as something done deliberately and not an accident at all. A canvas feed bag was found under the risers in the front row. Could it be that the rattlers were set loose intentionally between where the boards that gated the arena and the dirt floor met and created a slight opening round about the area? Since there was prize money involved and officials were looking at possible foul play, all monies would automatically be suspended until a full investigation could be conducted.
For now, the Mortons were free to go home. They would, however, be questioned in due time, along with all others involved in that particular event. As such was to take place, all were advised not to leave town until that questioning took place.
“All aboard!” The engineer’s call signaled for the train, carrying the injured Heath and his family, to move forward. A moderate jerk, which hastened Nick and Jarrod to reach for and hold their brother steady, hailed the beginning of the journey that would, God willing, bring recovery to the blond cowboy who laid in deep unconsciousness from the morphine injection received earlier. Heath’s leg had been partially splinted and as the train rolled down the tracks towards its final destination, Doctor Merar worked swiftly to stitch the wound that had turned into a sizeable lump on the back of Heath’s head. Foregoing any delays, the train would reach San Francisco by dawn.
Rumbling down the tracks, it wasn’t long before signs of infection reared its ugly head. It started with a sharp elevation of temperature. Victoria looked to Dr. Merar with alarm in her eyes. Audra kneeled down beside her brother and laid her hand on his crimson cheek.
“He’s burning up, Doctor. Do something.”
“I was afraid of this.” The doctor spoke to no one in particular. Clearing his throat, he spoke so that the whole family would know what they were dealing with. “Having that exposed bone in the dirt like he did was not good. Couldn’t be helped, we all know that but now we’re gonna have a war on our hands if we don’t get this infection under control. That’s why Heath’s temperature has risen so dramatically. His body is trying to fight the bacteria that has entered his body through that leg wound.” Turning to the youngest Barkley, he directed, “Audra, take these cloths and soak them thoroughly with the water from the barrels at the front of this car. We’ll need to try to cool him down as much as possible.”
“Alright Doctor.” Audra quickly slipped out of the compartment and made her way to the front of the private car, where the water supply was stored in wooden barrels. Working the spigot, she hurriedly drenched the sheets of cloth with the cool liquid. Upon returning to the little room, Dr. Merar relieved Audra of the compresses and started placing the cloths strategically on Heath. One across his forehead, one draped in back of his head and wrapped around his neck. Another placed on Heath’s chest with two more placed around each wrist. Placing the final two cloths under each of the cowboy’s armpits and wrapped lightly around his biceps, the doctor stepped back to view his patient.
“It doesn’t look pretty, but I’m hoping it will keep the fever down until we get to the hospital. We’ll change the cloths periodically to help to keep him cool.
***I’m falling. Can’t stay..stay on. Somethin’, somethin’s wrong. Hard to breathe. Musta..musta got the wind knocked outta me. Hurt. My..my leg. Can’t move. Hor..horse must’ve fallen on me. Niiiiick! Get ‘im, get ‘im off of me. H.h.hurt bad. Pain. So much pain. Nev..never felt anything l..l..like this before. Ni..nick, help me. Don’t, don’t know if I can ho..hold out.***
“Hold him still now,” the doctor directed the two brothers trying to keep the fevered man from moving and damaging his leg even more. “With the fever he’s running, he’s bound to be delirious. Don’t be afraid to use your strength on him. Many times when people are under the influence of high fever, their adrenalin kicks in making them quite a force to be reckoned with. Heath here is no under-muscled lad. He’s going to give us a fight now. For his own good, we’re just going to have to give it back to him to keep him safe, understand?”
Nick who was holding Heath’s arms and upper body down grimaced as his blond brother just then jerked and bucked, raising his back off of the bed. Jarrod clenched his jaw and worked to keep Heath’s good leg from kicking him across the room.
“I’ve had an easier time wrestling rogue bulls,” Nick grunted has he grappled and caught one of Heath’s powerful arms that had escaped out of his grip for about the fifth time. “Easy boy. Easy Heath.” Nick leaned down and positioned his mouth close to Heath’s ear and continued to talk to his restless brother. “Don’t fight me now. Ya gotta stay still, ya hear me? Your leg. Your leg is busted up pretty bad. We’re getting you help, Heath but ya gotta try to lie still. Sleep. Try to sleep. We’re all here with you. Mother, Audra, Jarrod and me. We’re here to help you, boy but you’ve got to lie still now.”
***Why can’t I g..get this bronc off of me. Heavy. Hurt. He’s suffocating m..m..me. So hot. Nick! Get ‘im off. Breathe. Can’t breathe. Oh, my head hurts too. Where are you, Nick? Hel..help me. Need ya big bro..brother.***
Victoria squeezed by her sons and the doctor and sat herself down by Heath’s right side. Stroking his hair, she murmured soft words to him hoping that the sound of her voice would penetrate through his dulled senses and relax him into a calmer rest. “Heath, sweetheart, it’s mother. You’re going to be just fine. Now you’ve got to listen to the doctor here and he says that you must, you must Heath, try to relax and try to be calm. Please darling, please try to relax. We’re getting you help you need. It won’t be long, Heath. Soon you’re going to be feeling much better. Come on sweetheart. Try, try to just sleep. You’ll feel better if you just try to sleep.”
***A voice. I know that voice. Still..still here under that blasted horse but that voice. Mother’s voice. Mother? Mother? You can’t lift it off of me. You’re not..not strong enough. Mother stop. Need leverage. Gotta have leverage. A rope. Loop a rope around this horrid weight and pull. Pull and I’ll be able to scram..scramble out from under it. Please mother. Must..must try. I’m all..all right. I’ll hold out a little longer. I’ll wait until you’re ready. I’m all right. Hurry mother. Hurry.***
Heath’s body relaxed noticeably at the sound Victoria’s voice and the feel of her soft touch. He stopped thrashing for a moment and rested. Nick and Jarrod were both able to loosen their hold and get their own strength back during this welcome break. Victoria continued a soft stream of loving words to the son whom she had adopted in her heart just a few short months ago.
Dr. Merar stepped up closer to his patient with a brown glass bottle in one hand and a spoon in the other. “I couldn’t give him anything more with the injection of Morphine right away, but now that it’s been about two hours, I believe it would be safe to give him a dose of Laudanum. It will help him to sleep.”
Victoria stepped aside as the doctor took his bottle and poured some of its contents into the waiting spoon. “Nick, I’m going to open his mouth. I want you to stroke his throat. That will help him to swallow the medicine without choking. Can you do that?”
“Sure thing doc.” Nick lifted Heath’s chin slightly and rubbed his throat while Dr. Merar administered the drug.
“There now,” the doctor said with a satisfied voice. “Hopefully that will help with his restlessness. Victoria, you stay right here beside him and keep talking to him. Between you and the Laudanum, we might have a smoother last half of this trip.” Pulling out his pocket watch, Dr. Merar clicked open the top and peered at the time. We should be arriving at the depot in about two hours.”
“What’s his chances now, Doctor?” Audra leaned forward with tentative eagerness from a chair at the foot of the bed where she had been an observer to all the efforts of keeping her newest brother calm.
Turning to the beautiful blond woman, the doctor spoke to her as he answered her question but all in the chamber listened with an intense ear. “He’s doing well so far. The quicker we get him to the hospital and then the doctors there get him into surgery, the better. We’re by no means out of the woods yet but we’re all doing all we can to get this boy where he needs to be. I’ll say one thing for him, with all that ranch work he does, it’s made him strong physically. It’s the strongest that survive something like this. Now once we get him through that surgery, it’s going to be his emotional health that may prove to be a might fragile. We’ll talk about that more after we get him over this initial hurdle with his leg and that bump on the head. I suspect he has suffered some concussion, therefore between that leg and his head, he will need a lot of rest. I think the toughest job for all of you might be yet to come. You’re going to have to figure out a way to keep him in bed. Rest will be mandatory for his healing.”
Victoria stayed close to Heath the remainder of the ride, gently caressing his face and hair and speaking loving words. Nick and Jarrod, once they saw that Heath appeared to be slumbering and his fever seemed to have lessoned, excused themselves to catch a few winks before the train arrived at its destination. Audra stayed in the compartment with her mother and the doctor, catching a few snatches of sleep here and there as the train rumbled closer and closer to the depot in San Francisco where a wagon would be waiting to take her brother to the hospital for a rather complicated surgery.
The train pulled into the station precisely at 4:00 AM. Only the faintest shades of pink and purple were beginning to emerge in the eastern sky. Dr. Merar was the first to exit the car, easily spotting the waiting wagon that would take Heath Barkley to one of the best Hospitals in Northern California. He climbed back onto the train to prepare his patient for transport.
Three sets of strong hands gently lifted Heath up and off of the bed, and as carefully as possible, settled him onto a flat board for moving. Heath didn’t even stir and in a way, that worried Victoria more than if he would have screamed out in pain.
“Doctor, he didn’t even seem to feel anything. Wouldn’t he have felt something even being unconscious,” Victoria queried.
“Well, I was expecting a little more resistance from him myself, Victoria.” The Doctor admitted. “I’m afraid that we might have been a little hasty in giving him the additional Laudanum after the Morphine. I don’t think it’s anything we need to worry about right now. Let’s just be glad he is somewhat in a comfortable state right now. We’ll see if we can rouse him when we get him to the hospital.”
Victoria nodded, still very worried. Climbing up into the wagon, she brushed her hand across Heath’s face. She prayed once again as she had prayed almost incessantly since they had left Stockton that God would take care of this boy. This boy whom she was proud to call her son.
Nick hovered over the Doctor and took it upon himself to see that his brother was as comfortable and secure as possible. The trip would be two miles into the City. Nick was anxious to get started and fussed over the blankets covering his youngest sibling, for if he were to sit still and do nothing, he knew in his heart he would simply explode.
Jarrod and Audra knew that there was really nothing that they could do to assist at the moment. Knowing their limitations, they quietly positioned themselves in the wagon ready to move on towards the hospital.
Heath lay swaddled in a nest of blankets on the floor of the wagon. His fever, though in no way gone, was at least being manageable for the moment. The quicker he got into surgery, the better off he’d be.
Dr. Merar, at last satisfied that Heath was cushioned in as best as he could be, nodded towards the driver and reminded him to take it slow and easy with his broken precious cargo.
The driver flicked his horses lightly and the wagon started off at an easy pace down one street and up another. Dr. Merar breathed a sigh of relief knowing that though San Francisco was famous for its many steep hills and sharp drop-offs, to arrive at the hospital, it would not be necessary to traverse any of them. It was a straight level shot. They should be arriving in about a half an hour’s time.
Nick was the first to jump down from the wagon when it pulled in front of what appeared to be a sizeable structure, four stories tall. “Doc, you want me to let them know we’re here?” Not waiting for an answer, Nick upon landing to the ground, commenced to pace in long strides. He was a bundle of nervous energy and needed to work it off some way and pacing always seemed to fit the bill for the lanky cowboy.
Doctor Merar knew that they were expected and doubted that anyone inside needed to be notified of their arrival. Besides, inwardly he thought, he didn’t want Nick busting in through the doors of the quiet hospital with his natural bellow. With Nick being as nervous and jumpy as he was, the doctor didn’t want to take the chance of him making for further disruption inside the hospital walls.
“Nick, they know we’re coming,” he assured the overwrought brother. “If I could just have you help me here, between you, me and Jarrod, we’ll get Heath out of the wagon.”
Jarrod was quick to see he was needed and assumed the same position he had taken up when they had all together lifted Heath into the wagon. Now they would do the same, only in reverse.
Victoria straightened to attention when Heath let out a faint moan as the board he was on was slowly lifted, balanced and brought slowly to a position between the three men for maneuvering through the double doors of the hospital.
Before Heath and his entourage reached the doors, they opened widely and four attendants rushed out to relieve the three men of their charge.
“Careful! Watch that leg.” Doctor Merar cautioned to the men, though he soon found the warning was not necessary. These men were skilled in their work and gently grasping the board that had been surrendered to them, they ever so gently but efficiently hurried the injured man into the building. Doctor Merar along with the whole Barkley family followed close behind. Once inside, Heath was whisked down a hallway and through another set of double doors.
“Wait! I want to be with him!” Nick’s shout brought a round of SHHHHHH’s from the Doctors and Nurses who were seen scurrying up and down the hallway, administering to the needs of the sick and injured.
A rather tall, slight man with thinning silver hair and spectacles appeared before the family and Dr. Merar.
“Where’s my brother? I want to be with him,” Nick stated again a bit too loudly for the surroundings and moved toward the hallway where he had last seen Heath being taken.
The tall man reached a thin hand out and placed it gently yet firmly on Nick’s shoulder. “Son, your brother is being taken to a room right away where our Orthopedic team can see what they need to do to make him well.”
Nick’s eyebrows knitted together in a question. “Or..Ortho WHAT?”
The doctor looked kindly upon the confused cowboy. “Mr. Barkley, your brother is now under the care of an Orthopedic Surgeon. What that means is his leg is going to be operated on by a Doctor who specializes in making bad bone breaks, like Heath’s, well. He is a bone specialist, trained to correct bones that have been injured or are deformed, whole again.”
“Oh, uh, I see. Well, when can I see him?”
“Well, I’m sorry Mr. Barkley.” Doctor Anderson lifted his eyes to include the whole family, who were still standing in the entranceway of the hospital. Heath has been taken into surgery. We are all prepared for him. Doctor Hyland will be heading the operation. He is one of the finest Orthopedic Surgeons on the West Coast. A team of about six doctors will assist him. Believe me, your son,” Doctor Anderson looked toward Victoria, “and your brother,” his look encompassed the rest of the family, “is in the best care possible. Now, won’t you all come into our waiting room? Unfortunately, I will not have news for you right away. I expect that our surgical team will be about five hours in this somewhat delicate operation. I must now join the team, as they will want to get started right away. Would you have any more questions for me?” Dr. Anderson moved his head to the right and left to include all family members. Nick was silent. Victoria spoke up.
“So when will we be able to see him, Doctor?”
“Oh, you will be able to see him after he is out of surgery and stable. I’ll make it a point to inform you when we are finished up and when he is stable enough to have company. Fair enough?”
“Yes, Doctor. Thank you.” Victoria answered. “We are most grateful for your care. Please keep us informed, will you?”
“I will indeed, dear lady. Don’t you worry any now. Heath is in the best of hands. All of you please try to relax. I’ll bring you news as soon as I know anything.” Directing his attention to Dr. Merar who had stayed back with the family, Dr. Anderson asked, “Doctor? You are welcome to observe the surgery if you’d be so inclined. We’d be pleased to have you in our operating theater.”
Dr. Merar looked a shade surprised but nodded with a pleased look in his eyes. “I’d be honored, gentlemen.” Glancing toward the gathered family once more as if seeking their approval, he spoke in a way that he hoped would convey comfort. “Victoria? Nick? Jarrod? Audra. Heath is a strong man. He’s sure to come through all right. I’d like to view this operation for my benefit and for the benefit of others. Perhaps I can bring home with me some pointers on what to do with fractures that come into my office.”
Victoria nodded. “Of course Howard. Please go. We’ll be fine waiting here. Please let us know when you have any news.” The Matriarch thanked Dr. Anderson again as he stepped away from the huddled group into the hallway. The family watched as both Doctors exited through double wooden doors onto the surgery ward and out of their view.
Before any incision was to be made, the area to be cut must be made as clean as possible. That meant the hands touching the injury must be made antiseptic clean. Dr. Merar watched somewhat fascinated as the team of surgeons took turns scrubbing their hands and then their arms, all the way up to the elbows, with a powerful smelling bar of soap. It seemed to the good doctor that these city doctors sure took their time scrubbing and scrubbing. Soon Dr. Merar found himself at the sink and was instructed to scrub up. A nurse stood by with a pair of gloves. The doctor thought to himself that since he was in their arena, he’d best do as he was instructed, though he didn’t see why he had to scrub so long that his hands felt raw. And gloves. That confused him a bit. How could you possibly feel what you were doing if you were hindered by cloth around your fingers?
Dr. Anderson could see that the observing small town Doctor was in a quandary. “For sanitary reasons. Helps keep the germs at a minimal.”
“Germs? You mean those things that we can’t see that folks have been studying?” Dr. Merar’s eyes still read confusion.
“Yes. It’s a fairly new science. The theory is that it is germs that cause infection. If you can eliminate as many germs as possible, why, the risk for infection drops significantly. Here, the nurse there will help you with your gloves. They are essential in not transmitting the germs that you may have on your hands onto the patient and especially to an open wound.”
“But I just scrubbed my hands. Surely there are no, er, GERMS left.”
“Ah, unfortunately that is not the case, Doctor. Germs travel in the air and land on everything. They especially are drawn to warm body surfaces. That’s why we must wear gloves when conducting surgery.”
“All right. I’ll go for that, but why do all of you wear those masks?” With those words out of his mouth, he felt a nurse place a lightweight cloth over own his mouth and nose and attach it with ties to the back of his head. For a split second, the Doctor panicked but soon realized that he could still breathe freely despite the swathe of cloth around his face.
“Doctor Merar,” Doctor Anderson explained patiently. “Remember what I said about germs loving warm places? Well they love to live inside of us, particularly in our mouth. When we breathe, we inhale germs but also exhale them as well. Remember, germs cause infection. By protecting our nose and mouth from our patient, he stands a better chance of not picking up any kind of infection. Not fool proof because any kind of open wound in vulnerable to invading germs that linger in the air, but it does increase our chances for a better and quicker recovery.”
Doctor Merar marveled at these new advances. He walked over to an area of the room where he could see the procedure, convinced that he was surely going to be able to take something home with him that was new and wonderful.
Heath’s clothes had been discarded. He laid face up under a clean cotton sheet with only the broken leg exposed. The area around Heath’s broken femur had been suitably washed with the same vile smelling antiseptic soap that each Doctor had washed with and dried. Ether would be used as the anesthetic and was administered by placing a metal mask over the blond’s face and maintained by a doctor on the team who would administer small regular doses of the gas by a pumping device.
“Are you ready gentleman?” Dr. Hyland, chief of Orthopedic Surgery, looked around the room at his colleagues.
“We’re ready.”
“Shall we begin? Start the ether please. Just a little bit. Not much. He’s already unconscious. We don’t want to put him into a coma. All right then. Very good. Let’s take a look at this leg then, shall we? Scalpel.”
The pendulum in the clock on the wall of the operating room precisely and methodically swung back and forth, counting off the minutes and then the hours that the group of surgeons huddled over Heath, working just as the pendulum did, precisely and methodically to save and repair his badly damaged leg. Finally Doctor Hyland gave a final nod that signaled the end of the surgery. The patient lay as pale as the sheet covering him. He would remain unconscious for at least a couple of more hours. The broken bone had been a challenge and Heath would not be out of the woods for quite some time. Too many things could go wrong, infection being the main concern. Gangrene setting in was always a worry, not to mention the real possibility of pneumonia or other respiratory complications. With great care, Heath was transferred to a gurney and taken to the hospital’s recovery area. There, he was again transferred onto a special bed that would be his home for the next eight weeks. Dr. Hyland along with Drs. Anderson and Merar looked down at the young blond man whose right leg was now completely encased in hard plaster and suspended in the air, held by a pulley that was connected to a rod at the end of his bed. Dr. Merar was the first to speak.
“Well, gentlemen. I must say that watching you work was a most enlightening experience. That was some piece of work your team did in there to gather the bone together and align it so that it will eventually fuse together again. I’m afraid if it were up to me to take care of this injury, I would have had no choice but to amputate the leg. You’ve done a fine job here.”
“Thank you Doctor”, acknowledged Dr. Hyland. “And while I’d like to take credit for a job well done, I can’t. Not yet anyway. We’ve only started here with this leg. We’ve got a lot ahead of us including the battle to keep the leg from becoming infected. Blood clots are common in injuries like this. And as you know, Doctor, a blood clot if allowed to, can travel in the body and go right into the brain. That’s why intense physical therapy will be absolutely necessary to keep what little circulation he has in that leg moving. Although he is going to have to spend many hours with that leg up in traction, he is also going to have to spend many hours moving the leg. Well, he won’t be moving it, but our special therapy staff will be working with him extensively to help keep the blood flow moving so that we don’t end up with tissue dying and gangrene setting in. That young man is going to have a hard row to hoe for the next several weeks. He is going to be exhausted and that poses yet another threat. Pneumonia. He’ll need to be watched closely that his body doesn’t start shutting down. While his body is working hard to repair the damage done in the leg, it will weaken the rest of his system, making him vulnerable to infections and organ dysfunction. Those attending to him must at all times wear a face mask and gloves to prevent as much as possible the passing of germs that could cause Mr. Barkley to become ill. Even a small cold would be disastrous to him because his body is in no shape to fight anything off. It will be very important that everyone take all precautions when they are with him. My staff will be informed and instructed on what they will be doing. Dr. Anderson will be meeting with the family and keeping them abreast to what is happening with Mr. Barkley every step of the way.”
“Will his family be able to see him soon,” Dr. Merar asked, still unsure of how germs seemed to affect everything that was done inside or outside of the operating room.
Dr. Hyland shook his head. “Unfortunately, that will not be possible until he is awake and more stabilized. Even then, visits must be limited and full precautions of face masks and gloves must be maintained even by the family. I can’t emphasize enough the battle we will be waging here. Even five years ago, we would never have gotten this far along with him. Once the science of germs and bacteria became accepted and the boundaries drawn in dealing with them, the mortality rate from injuries such as Mr. Barkley’s has dropped considerably. However, the fight is not ours. Not yet. If infection becomes clear or gangrene threatens, we may have no choice but to go back in and take the leg. So as you can see gentlemen,” Dr. Hyland gestured to include Dr. Merar and Dr. Anderson who were listening attentively to his words, “we must be extremely cautious and vigilant to anything amiss in Mr. Barkley’s case. Do I make myself clear?”
Dr. Anderson nodded. He had worked with Dr. Hyland before and knew of his success rate with difficult cases like this one. While Dr. Hyland may appear to be gruff in his manner and unyielding, Dr. Anderson knew that it was for the absolute good of the patient. The reason Dr. Hyland enjoyed such a high rate of success in his field was not only his skill in the operating room, which was beyond compare, but the after the operation protocol that he insisted on had saved many a limb and life. Dr. Anderson knew it was imperative that his Chief’s instructions be followed implicitly and to the letter.
Dr. Merar had not worked with the good Dr. Hyland before and while he thought the man to be an excellent surgeon, he was a little skeptical of his insistence of no visitors until Heath was on more stable ground. Still, he knew where he stood here. This was not his practice, so he was in no position to counter an argument. Instead he too nodded that he understood about Dr. Hyland’s strict instructions. He inwardly winced however because he knew he would be the one to face the middle brother of this prominent family and he knew that Nick Barkley would not sit still to the reasons why he couldn’t see his beloved younger brother.
The Doctors came to a split in the hallway. Drs. Anderson and Merar would now approach the family while Dr. Hyland would gather his resident Doctors together and drill them on the battle plan of caring for Heath Barkley for the next coming weeks, if the young cowboy survived the first night out of surgery. Dr. Hyland would be there in the Recovery Room to supervise the young man’s care every step of the way. He knew he himself would not sleep for the next eighteen hours or so. He had to be there to see this young man through. One step, one minute, one hour at a time. It was going to be a long night.
“What do you mean we can’t see him?” Nick’s angry voice reverberated off of the walls of the waiting lounge where the family had settled, waiting for news of the success of the operation.
“Nick! This is a hospital. Keep your voice down.” Victoria was just as frustrated about the news that Heath could not receive visitors as her middle son was, however, she was wise to know that shouting was not the way to get them closer to Heath.
“You’ve got to understand,” Dr. Anderson started but was interrupted by Nick’s angry voice.
“Understand what Doctor? You want us to understand that we can’t see Heath? A member of our family? How is he supposed to get through this alone without his family to give him the support he needs especially now?”
“Mr. Barkley.” Doctor Anderson placed a gentle hand on Nick’s shoulder only to have it shrugged off. The Doctor tried a different tactic, addressing Victoria this time. “Mrs. Barkley, your son Heath is in very critical condition at this point. What he needs most right now is the constant care of our Doctors who are with him now, along with lots of rest. He hasn’t come out from under the anesthetic yet and his body is very weak. He can’t afford to lose anymore of his strength, which he would if you were permitted to see him just now. We must take every precaution to guard him from any type of infection that could come about by having unnecessary contact with other humans.”
Nick exploded again. “Unnecessary contact? We’re his family!”
“Nick!” Victoria shushed her son with a warning look.
“Mr. Barkley, I know you’re upset. I know it’s hard for you to understand, but we’ve got to keep Heath as isolated as possible until he gets stronger. It’s imperative that he’s given a fighting chance. The best way you can help Heath is to not see him right now. We hope to have him stabilized soon and then we’ll be more than happy for you to go to him. He’s going to need his family more than ever to heal through this but right now he needs time to get some deep rest. Can you try to understand?” Dr. Anderson considered for a moment whether he should go into the germ theory that Dr. Hyland so advocated, but decided against it. He was exhausted, number one, and number two; he didn’t think Nick or the rest of the family for that matter would truly understand the role of germs fostering infection. Instead, the Doctor chose to keep it as simple as possible and asked for the family’s trust in the Doctors assigned to Heath’s care.
Dr. Merar spoke up next hoping that he would be seen as a friend in all this and that the Barkleys would listen to a friend. “Heath is in a very precarious situation right now. Dr. Anderson is right. He needs as much peace and quiet so that he can sleep in a healing manner. I don’t believe I would have had any hope in saving Heath. The decision to allow him to come here was a wise one. While we’re not out of the woods yet, I believe Heath to be under the best of care. It would be to Heath’s benefit if you all would listen and do as Drs. Hyland and Anderson are requesting. I’ll make sure that you are made aware of everything that is going on with Heath the minute it happens. And don’t you worry, as soon as he is on more steady ground, knowing that you’re there for him will be the best medicine he can have.”
Nick paced in long strides the length of the waiting lounge and back. Finally he threw up his hands in surrender and faced both Doctors. “Alright. We’ll wait but you will tell us if there is any change in his condition, right?”
Dr. Anderson answered reassuringly. “I promise I’ll let you know everything that’s going on with him.” The doctor turned and started to walk down the corridor towards the recovery room when he suddenly stopped and turned around again to face the family. “I almost forgot. If you would like, there’s a viewing glass into Heath’s room. You may look in on him that way if you wish.”
“Could we doctor?” Victoria’s heart leaped with relief that although she wouldn’t be able to touch her son, she would at least be able to see him even if it was through a sheet of glass.
“Come this way.” Dr. Anderson led all four Barkleys down the hallway to the closed door of Heath’s room. Quietly with each taking a turn, they peered through the glass upon a pale young man swaddled in bed sheets and blankets, being tended to by a trio of doctors. Audra gasped when she saw the enormous cast on Heath’s leg and that it was being suspended in mid air with some sort of pulley cable mechanism. Victoria looked on for quite a while and worried because in the time she observed him, he had not moved at all. Nick seemed less agitated now, having seen Heath, but he too was bothered because he could detect no movement in his brother.
“Are you sure he’s okay,” Nick asked Dr. Anderson with heavy concern in his voice. “How come he’s not moving? Shouldn’t that sleep stuff have worn off by now?”
Dr. Anderson patiently explained that everyone undergoing anesthesia is different. The doctors with Heath had hoped that he would have come into wakefulness by now, but he reminded the family that Heath’s surgery had been complicated and long. The amount of ether he had been given had undoubtedly sent him almost into a coma-like state, so waking out from under its influence might take longer than the doctors had anticipated.
Before leaving the family, Dr. Anderson suggested that they take a hotel room close to the hospital and get some rest. He assured them that he would have more encouraging news for them in the morning. Dr. Merar, who was trailing behind the family as they walked back towards the waiting lounge, spoke up in agreement.
“Now Victoria, you need your rest. You won’t do Heath any good if you run yourself down and get sick.” Turning to Jarrod, he proposed that he take the lead and get the family settled. “There’s a hotel across the street and down a block. You can get a hot meal there and a good night’s sleep.”
Victoria put up a feeble argument saying she wanted to stay at the hospital, but exhaustion was showing on her fine features by way of dark circles under her eyes, blotting her flawless complexion. Jarrod soon persuaded his family to walk with him to the hotel that was recommended. After rooms were obtained, it was decided that after a brief rest for all, they’d meet at the dining room at 7:00 for supper.
He felt as if he were in a pool of mud trying to swim to the top. Trying to break through to the surface so that he could breathe. Only thing was, he kept pushing upwards and yet a mysterious weight seemed to be dragging him further and further under the surface. Gotta find air. Need to breathe. Feel so heavy. Sinking. Gotta…gotta breathe. With a panicked push, Heath hoped that he would emerge from the mire that was swallowing and slowly suffocating him. Air abruptly filled his lungs and he let out a loud gasp. Still while he could breathe easier, Heath still found his body trapped in some sort of suspended prison. He felt dizzy and his stomach was on its way to revolting. The sickness rushed in like a speeding freight train and jerked his head upward from his prone position, landing the nasty after affects of the Ether all over his chest and stomach. His body convulsed as it wrung itself of the last of the sleeping chemical.
Doctor Hyland efficiently and quietly directed his team to speedily manage the retching man. Cloths were produced, as was warm water and soap to clean the patient and the area around him. Expertly, sheets were changed without moving Heath off of the bed and soon cleanliness was restored.
Heath felt himself coming into a lighted area and struggled to open his eyes. Easier said than done. He struggled and finally his lids lifted slightly. Confusion and pain seemed to compete to see who could enter into his senses first. “Aahhhh.” A weak groan escaped through his lips. His leg. His leg felt like someone had put it in a vice and was exerting an awful pressure. His parched lips cracked and bled as his mouth twisted in pain. He felt a wet cloth touch his lips. Water. Gotta…gotta have water. So thirsty.
An unfamiliar voice was calling his name but it seemed so far away. Heath tried to answer the voice but his throat was so dry that only another weak groan was produced.
“Heath! Heath, time to wake up now. Wake up son! Come back to us Heath.” Doctor Hyland spoke quietly yet firmly into Heath’s ear.
His lips formed a circle and worked to form words but only a faint cracked sound came forth. Heath’s chest heaved as he tried again to gather enough strength to answer the voice calling out to him. A strangled “who” came first and then “where.”
“That’s right son. You’re doing fine. You’re okay now. Come on, let me see you open your eyes.”
The voice he was hearing, though it was a stranger’s voice, it was a kind voice and Heath struggled to obey its request. Slowly his eyes opened further and he attempted to focus on the vast whiteness above him. Pain exploding in his head and leg forced his eyes again to shut tightly, and he gnashed his teeth together, but the stranger’s voice continued in a lulling way, inviting him to open his eyes again. He felt a wet cool cloth brush against his face. Water. So thirsty. Another attempt at opening his eyes was made. This time, though seeing through only slits of blue, they remained open. Slowly he pushed them open further. Trying to move his thoughts past the sharp pain that was slicing through his head and the horrific pressure being exerted on his leg, Heath slowly focused on the four faces hovering above him. Who were these men and where am I, and why am I in such pain, were the primary thoughts that were racing through Heath’s still slightly Ether-induced brain. Dr. Hyland did not miss his confused stare.
“Heath, you’re in San Francisco, in a hospital. You have a badly broken leg. Heath, do you remember anything. Anything at all?”
His lips again puckered to form words. Dr. Cassidy, who was wiping Heath’s face, quickly ascertained the problem. “He needs water.” A cup was soon produced and Heath felt hands lifting him from behind and holding him. The motion itself caused him to cry out but the refreshing liquid being offered to his lips was worth the painful effort of sitting up. Hands gently laid him back down. The water strengthened the cowboy and as the ether cobwebs fell away from his mind, he found that forming an answer for these men might help him to get answers to the many questions that were now swimming in his aching head.
“I r’member. Horse. Threw me. A sound.” Heath furrowed his brow as he tried to remember the sound he last heard before his world went dark. Suddenly his eyes opened wide and were full of terror. His body jerked as if he had touched something hot. “Snakes. Snakes in the ring. Nick! Shoot ‘em! Hurry! Horse! No! Horse heavy. My leg! Get ‘im off of me. Nick. Help me.”
Dr. Hyland worked to reach Heath, whose glazed sky eyes stared but no longer saw the team of Doctors feverishly attempting to bring him back to the present. Cupping his patient’s face, Dr. Hyland pushed his own face close and in staccato-like fashion urged Heath to return again to this room and to this present time. The other three doctors in the room struggled to keep the six-foot sturdy cowboy from thrashing about, further damaging his casted leg. The bar that supported his leg along with its cable pulley swung precariously to and fro. Finally with a sharp cry, Heath’s eyes closed tight momentarily and then slowly opened with clarity. Once again he felt the pain in his head that now seemed dull and blunt and his leg that ached with a tremendous pressure. He felt as though his bones of his upper leg were pulling apart similar to that of a wishbone.
“Heath, don’t you worry son. You’re going to be fine.”
Heath focused his gaze on the kind Doctor. “Hurt so bad. So tired.”
“I know you’re hurting. I’m going to give you some medicine now that’s going to help you rest and sleep. I’m going to give you an injection. You won’t feel but a pinch and then you’ll get some needed rest, all right?”
Heath struggled with his words again as pain in his leg swept over his entire body, sending hot chills like fierce waves of the sea. “My..my family. Brother. Must..must see him. Nick.” The young blond man’s face contorted in agony as another spasm washed over him.
“Shhhh shhhh. Your brother is here, but you must get some rest before he can see you. You’ll be able to see your family soon. Soon now.”
Holding the syringe at eye level, Doctor Hyland gauged the proper amount of medicine that would take the edge off of the pain and allow his young patient to fall into what he hoped would be a healing sleep.
After completing the injection, Dr. Hyland dismissed his team, urging them to get some well-deserved rest while he himself stayed behind soothing Heath who though becoming weaker and sleepier by the minute, continued to call out to his beloved brother. “Nick! Nick! Nick. Ni….”
As Heath sunk into a somewhat fitful slumber despite the rather high dosage of sleep medication, Nick was wound tighter than a drum, pacing in agitated long strides back and forth the length of his hotel room where the family had chosen to gather after supper.
“I still don’t understand it mother. Why?” Nick railed, punctuating his question by throwing his arms up in the air, his hands forming into fists. “Why won’t the doctor just let us see him? You know how he is. He’s gonna think we’ve all abandoned him if no one is there when he wakes up.”
“Nick! Will you please sit down? You’re going to wear a hole right through the floor. You heard what the Doctor said,” Victoria sick with worry, wearily answered her volatile middle son. “They’re concerned that Heath will somehow get an infection from anyone just coming into the room. Something about germs. And no! I really don’t know what Doctor Hyland is talking about either, but he IS the Doctor and knows more about these things than we will ever hope to, I suppose.”
“Nick,” Audra spoke gently, hoping to sound convincing and to calm her brother. “Heath will be fine. I just know he will.”
Nick stopped pacing and sat down on the bench at the end of his bed. With his elbows planted on his knees, he dropped his face into his hands. He stayed like that until Jarrod sat down beside him and wrapped his arm around his brother’s shoulder.
“Nick, we’re all very worried about Heath, but undermining what the Doctor wants is not going to help. We’ve just got to take this a step at a time. We’ve got to remain strong for each other and for Heath. Come on, let’s go downstairs and I’ll buy you a drink, what do you say?”
Nick lifted his head and ran his hand through his hair. Sighing heavily he said, “No. I don’t want a drink. Just, just want to go to bed, I guess. If you’ll all excuse me.”
“Sure Nick.” Jarrod went to the door and looked at his family. “Try to sleep, brother Nick. Things will be better in the morning.” Jarrod quietly left the room and discreetly waited for his mother and sister in the hallway.
Victoria went over to where Nick was sitting. Cupping his face in her small hands, she drew him to her chest and gently stroked his hair. “I can’t tell you for sure how things will turn out because I cannot guess the future but I can tell you this; your brother is strong in body and in spirit. I know he will be giving his all to fight this thing. With God’s good grace, he will fight and win but you have got to have faith that it will happen. Pray Nicholas! Pray for faith and strength. That’s the best way that you can help Heath now.”
Nick felt tears burning in his eyes and it took all his self control to not allow them to spring forth as he buried his head into his mother’s shoulder and whispered, “how will he know? How will he know we’re here for him?”
Nick’s questioned went unanswered as Victoria kissed her son’s head. She and Audra left the room quietly, shutting the door behind them and Nick was left alone with his own thoughts. Forcing himself to stand, Nick moved to the side of his bed and laid himself on his back, fully clothed on top of the covers. Alone, he abandoned his show of manliness and self control and let the tears that were burning for release to flow freely. His thoughts turned bitterly to the scum who were responsible for his brother being where he was at now. Revenge hammered into his head. It may not happen tomorrow or the next day but Nick Barkley was determined. If it was the last thing he did, he would make the Mortons pay dearly for what they had done to his brother.
Victoria and Audra retired to their rooms, while Jarrod chose to help sleep to come with a glass of scotch from the bar downstairs. Taking a table by himself, he gave his order to the pretty waitress. His thoughts first went to Heath and then turned quickly to Nick. He was worried about Nick’s temper and what it could accomplish. Accepting the glass from his hostess, he laid a coin on the table and then another for her. He swirled the contents of the amber colored liquid. He knew that somehow he would have to hogtie Nick so that he wouldn’t go off half-cocked after the Mortons and do something foolish that would land him in prison or worse, at the end of a rope.
Sipping his drink, Jarrod planned for the next morning. Before meeting for breakfast with the family, he would head over to the nearest telegraph office and send a wire to Sheriff Fred Madden for details of the investigation of the events on that fateful night. He had real hopes that enough evidence was available that the Morton’s were already sitting in jail. Jarrod sighed and drained his glass. At least if they were behind bars, Nick wouldn’t be able to get to them. Standing up, he shook his head as he headed up to his room. Nick and Heath, joined at the hip or more suitably, the heart. A bond of steel. No one messed with that bond and got away with it. Jarrod prayed that the Morton’s were behind bars. It was Nick’s only hope of not running afoul of the law.