by Sharon
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.
Heath Barkley smiled
as he reached down to pat Charger’s neck. “Lets go home, boy,” he said to his
trusty companion. As they rode on toward the Barkley Ranch, he reflected on the
good, satisfying day he’d had so far.
He’d ridden fence up and down the whole North Pasture, and had replaced a good
two miles of rotting posts. After that, he’d dug two new wells, and then a
third, just for good measure. Then, he’d repaired a whole mess of holes in the
barn roof before moving twelve 50-pound bags of grain to the far side of the
barn.
But Nick hadn’t liked the way they’d looked there, so Heath had moved them all
back. Boy howdy, but they’d been heavy. After chasing down thirty head of
wandering cattle and reshodding all the horses, he’d helped deliver Taffy’s new
colt. He’d always enjoyed playing midwife.
After he’d made sure mother and baby were fine, he’d looked at his pocketwatch.
Seeing that it was already 6:00 a.m. (!), he’d stopped for a quick breakfast.
Just a small meal today, because there was more work to do. Only one loaf’s
worth of toast, half a dozen fried eggs, and a side of bacon. Oh, and a cup of
coffee. Just one. He couldn’t dilly-dally over food when chores were waiting.
He’d gone back to the fence posts he’d replaced earlier and made sure they were
all standing nice and straight, and planted some daisies around each one, for
good measure. After that, it was time to get out the nail scissors and make
sure that each blade of grass was the same height. No one would ever call the
Barkley Ranch a sloppy place. By that time it was already 8:00 a.m. (!) He
hadn’t meant to take so long with his chores, and he hurried into town, not
wanting to waste any more time.
He’d taken care of a few little errands while in the bustling metropolis called
Stockton. Not much, though- just placed an order at the general store,
replenished his supply of bullets, helped Sheriff Madden track down and capture
the last surviving member of the James Gang (who Heath had to beat into submission,
by the way) built a new wing onto the orphanage, played a round of baseball
with the little tykes while he was there, and helped doddering old Mr. Dunn at
the Feed ‘n Seed by carrying forty 50-pound bags of grain down to the cellar.
But then Mr. Dunn had decided he didn’t like the way they looked down there, so
Heath had carried them back up to the storeroom. Boy howdy, but they’d been
heavy. Mr. Dunn had tried to give him a stick of penny candy for his trouble,
but he’d adamantly refused. Goodness was its own reward- when he was a boy, his
Mama had told him that every time he’d asked her for a treat.
And then, before he’d mounted up to go home, he’d helped a little old lady
cross the street. It hadn’t been easy, though, seeing as how she didn’t WANT to
cross the street. But his Mama had raised him to be kind to his elders, and
finally he’d managed to get her to the other side. He winced as he rubbed the
back of his head. That old gal sure had packed quite a wallop with that cane of
hers. But it had been worth it. He’d get his place in heaven now, he was sure
of it.
And now he was on his way home after a most satisfyingly good morning. Boy
howdy, but he was in a fine mood. Such a beautiful day…maybe he’d skip work
this afternoon and play hooky down at the swimmin’ hole. He threw back his head
and laughed. (OK, he didn’t go that far, but his grin was more lopsidedly
lopsided than usual.)
Tee hee! Sometimes he was so funny. Taking off from work- the idea! Idle hands
were the devil’s workshop- his Mama had told him that every time he’d asked her
if he could go down to the swimmin’ hole instead of doing his chores.
Ouch! He suddenly felt an all-too familiar searing pain in his shoulder that
knocked him off his horse. Charger took off like a shot, anxious to get away
from this all-too-familiar situation.
Heath lay on the ground, looking at the retreating backside of his horse. As
the all-too-familiar red liquid started gushing out of his shoulder, he started
praying. Praying to the Heavens. Praying that some way, some how, the bottle of
perfume he’d bought for Audra’s birthday next week wouldn’t fall out of
Charger’s saddlebags.
He looked down at the rapidly spreading all-too-familiar stain, grimacing at
the thought of the all-too-familiar scolding he’d get from Silas for ruining
another shirt. His thoughts were interrupted by a pounding of hooves as the
strange horse stopped in front of him.
“Throw me yer money,” the bearded rider yelled, his pistol aimed at the injured
man.
Heath rapidly obliged, throwing the man his money clip. As the thief started to
turn his horse around, Heath yelled to him. “Hey, you!” He reached down into
his boot where he kept his trusty knife hidden and pulled out his lucky silver
dollar, tossing it to his attacker.
The man nodded and again started to leave. “Wait!” Heath shouted. Again the man
turned his horse back. “Do I know you?” Heath asked.
“Nope,” The man shook his head. “I ain’t from around here- you was just in the
wrong place at the wrong time.” He tipped his hat to Heath and again started
to…
“Wait!” Heath shouted again. The man sighed with exasperation. “What is it,
son? I got appointments ta keep!”
Heath stumbled to his feet and approached the horse, hand on hip. He knew how
to deal with this thieving stranger. “Do you need directions?” he asked.
“Seeing as how you’re not from around these parts.”
The man thought for a minute, scratching his head with his pistol. “Now that ya
mention it…what’s the best way to San Francisco? Do I just stay on this road,
or-“
Heath shook his head. “Nope, you want the Mission Trail. You turn off about a
mile ahead and…you know, I’d better draw you a map.” He reached into his
hatband and took out the $100 bill that Nick had given him for emergencies. He
figured if this wasn’t an emergency, he didn’t know what was. He quickly
sketched a map on the green and white paper and handed it to his attacker. The
man thanked him and took off.
Heath sighed with satisfaction, his heart full of pride at having helped a
stranger in need. For his Mama had always told him…well, he couldn’t remember
exactly what she’d told him about helping strangers in need, thanks to his
ever-increasing loss of blood. He ripped off a piece of his shirt (oh, he’d
REALLY catch it from Silas now) and tied it in an all-too-familiar tourniquet
around his shoulder. He then started the long walk home.
After about an hour, he came upon Charger, calmly chewing grass by the side of
the road. A cursory examination showed that the horse had thrown a shoe.
Regretfully, Heath realized that he couldn’t ride the poor beast home, not in
his condition. He knew what he had to do. Bending over, he hoisted the animal
onto his back. “We’d best get home, boy. I don’t want to miss lunch- it’s
chicken and dumplings today.”
Finally, they reached the Barkley Ranch. Heath gently unloaded Charger at the
corral and walked to the front door. Seeing that it was closed, he sighed and
took a few steps backwards before taking a running leap right through the
window, landing on the entry hall floor.
Boy howdy, if it didn’t hurt just as much coming into the house that way as it
had going out.
Jarrod came running at the sound of shattering glass. “Heath!” He helped his
brother up and dusted the glass out of his hair and clothes. “Why, Heath, WHY?”
Heath shrugged. “The door was closed- and I didn’t have a key.”
The dark-haired lawyer sighed. “But Heath- the door wasn’t locked. Come to
think of it, it’s NEVER locked- why didn’t you just try turning the knob?”
His brother grinned. “Reckon I didn’t think of that. Guess that’s why you’re
the lawyer in the family.”
Jarrod sighed again. “But Heath, you ‘didn’t think of that’ the last six times
this happened.” He shook his head. “Well, I guess it’s not your fault- the way
you take those blows to the head on a daily basis isn’t exactly conducive to a
good memory …but still, we’re making Hartley over at the glazier’s a rich man!”
Heath’s grin grew broader. Helping out a neighbor, too. Was there no limit to
the number of good deeds he could perform in one day? His Mama-
“Come on,” Jarrod interrupted his thoughts. “Lets get you over to the settee.”
As he laid his brother down and pushed his head down on a pillow, he noticed
the bloody cloth tied around Heath’s shoulder. “Oh no, not AGAIN!” Jarrod
cried.
Heath nodded. “Yup.”
Just then Nick flitted into the room and burst into song. “I am the very model
of a modern major-general…” His voice trailed off upon seeing his injured
brother on the settee. “Oh no, not AGAIN!” he cried.
Heath nodded. “Yup.”
The lanky rancher’s look of shock quickly turned into a grin. “You sure do
collect them owies, doncha, snookums,” he said good-naturedly, ruffling the
blond hair. Heath looked at Jarrod with fear on his face. Getting shot was one
thing- seeing Nick like this was quite another.
The eldest Barkley son bent down and whispered in Heath’s ear. “Mother’s trying
something new- she put some St. John’s Wort in Nick’s coffee this morning.”
They looked up to see the subject of their conversation doing deep knee-bends.
“Good for the circulation,” Nick explained.
Jarrod turned back to his injured brother and started untying the tourniquet.
“We’ll need to get that bullet out ourselves- Dr. Merar’s playing in that
charity golf tournament down in Palm Springs this week.” He grimaced at the
sight of the ugly wound. “Silas! We need you in here!”
The loyal butler hurried into the room. He took one look at Heath and a frown
spread across his normally calm countenance. “Oh no, not AGAIN!” he cried.
Heath nodded. “Yup.”
“Silas, we’re going to have to perform a bit of surgery in here. You know what
to bring, right?” Nick asked.
Silas nodded and went back to the kitchen, wondering why he’d ever taken this
lousy job. Ever since Heath had joined the family, he’d gone from butler to
nursemaid and chief blood getter-outter.
“First off, he’ll need something to bite down on,” Nick said firmly. “Silas,
dear! Bring a wooden spoon when you come back!” he trilled in the direction of
the kitchen.
The lanky rancher smiled and ruffled Heath’s hair once more. “Not that it’ll
hurt, sweetie. Why, you’re just one big mass of scar tissue in there by now,
ain’t ya? Ya won’t feel a thing.” He tried to ruffle Heath’s hair yet again but
this time his younger brother slapped his hand away, leaving Nick with a hurt
pout on his face.
Victoria and Audra suddenly entered the room. They took one look at Heath and
cried out in unison, “Oh no, not-“
“Yes, AGAIN!” Nick and Jarrod finished.
Heath nodded. “Yup.”
Victoria ran over to her injured son and…well, not her son, really…actually no
blood relation whatsoever…anyway, she ran over to him and asked frantically,
“Heath, does it hurt?”
“Like a junebug on a hot hickory stick suckin’ a jalapeño in the middle of a
stampede in drought season,” he answered. Victoria looked at Jarrod, puzzled.
“It does smart a bit, at that,” the lawyer translated.
“Well, the one thing you musn’t do is get hysterical,” she said to the injured
man. “Getting hysterical will just make it worse.” Her right hand started to
make the all-too-familiar climb upward. “ARE you hysterical?” she asked
hopefully.
Heath quickly shook his head. “No ma’am, I ain’t, I sure ain’t!”
Victoria frowned. “He’s in denial. That’s even worse!” she shouted as her palm
connected with his cheek.
Heath almost cried. His own Mama had never shown him such caring.
“Ooh, gross, he’s bleeding,” Audra said disgustedly, wrinkling her pert little
nose.
Victoria put her hands to her mouth in shock. “You’re right, he IS bleeding!
And all over my petit point pillow! Goodness, I worked for three months making
that thing, and now it’s ruined!” The petite matriarch’s eyes filled with
tears. Her children rushed to console her. Well, all except for the man lying
on the settee, still bleeding- and with a small pink imprint of a hand now
decorating his cheek.
“Oh, lookit what I’ve done,” Heath said mournfully. “I’m powerful sorry-“
“Lot of good that does me now!” Victoria fumed. “And by the way - what the heck
is with that drawl? Strawberry’s not that far from here!”
“Well, actually, I’m from South Strawberry,” Heath explained. Everyone except
Audra nodded with understanding.
Victoria finally got herself under control. I won’t say how.
Jarrod took out his pocketknife. “This should dig out the offending projectile
quite nicely,” he commented. At Heath’s puzzled look, he clarified, “That there
slug.”
“Jarrod, forget it, I ain’t got time for that,” Heath protested. “I got the
afternoon chores to do.”
“Work, work, work, that’s all you ever think about,” Nick said, shaking his
head. “There are other things in life, you know. Speaking of which, could you
hurry up, Jarrod? The ballet’s in town tonight and I don’t want to miss a
single plie.”
Victoria looked knowingly at Jarrod. “See? I told you! Those herbs did the
trick!” she whispered.
“By the way, we’ll need to sterilize that knife, Jarrod,” Nick remarked.
“Wouldn’t want any of those nasty widdle germs to do harm to baby brother.”
Jarrod’s face turned angry. “I don’t like what you’re implying, brother.”
“Now, now, Jarrod, you know we have to-“
“NOOOOOOO!!!!!” Jarrod yelled, making a running dive for the drinks table. He
quickly gathered all the bottles together and encircled them with his arms, his
eyes darting fearfully around the room. “Don’t even THINK about it!” he
screamed.
“Ja-rrod,” his mother said warningly, raising her hand in the air.
He gulped. “OK, OK, lets see here…” He looked among the bottles he still held
in his safe embrace. “No, not this one- this was the brandy my dear departed
wife and I drank on our first night here.” He sniffed sorrowfully. “You know, I
shall never recover from the loss of my Bess-“
“You mean Beth,” Audra corrected.
“What?” Jarrod thought for a moment. “Oh, right, right…” He picked up the
bottle and tossed it to Nick. “Ah, what the hell. Here, Nick take it,” he said
good-naturedly.
“Jarrod,” Nick said softly, valiantly keeping the smile on his face. “Please
don’t raise your voice to me. It does terrible things to my karma.” He poured
the brandy over the knife while Jarrod covered his eyes.
Silas returned with clean towels and things (Why they gotta be clean towels?
I’s just gonna have to clean ‘em anyways!) and the brothers set to removing the
bullet.
“Wait!” Audra cried. “You forgot to put the wooden spoon in his mouth!”
“Not necessary, sister dear,” Jarrod said, triumphantly holding up the cause of
all the commotion. “It’s out!” The family oohed and ahed over the shiny bullet.
“Better put it with the others, son,” Victoria ordered.
Jarrod nodded and tossed it into the jar on the mantle. The jar that had once
held pickled cucumbers and which now was full to bursting with bullets
retrieved from various parts of Heath Barkley’s body. “That reminds me, we’ll
need another jar soon, Silas,” Victoria remarked.
Silas nodded on his way back to the kitchen. First thing tomorra I’m polishin’
my resume, he thought to himself.
Victoria looked at Heath tenderly as she lovingly stroked his hair. “In the
middle of all this commotion, I think we’ve forgotten what’s really important,”
she said softly. She raised her eyes to see the family looking at her
expectantly. “My pillow, of course!”
Audra spoke up helpfully. “Mother, it’s white- why don’t you just bleach it?”
“Audra, what a wonderful idea!” Victoria said proudly. “Silas! My pillow needs
bleaching!”
Silas came back from the kitchen holding an empty 5-gallon drum. “Miz Barkley,
we’s all out of bleach!”
Victoria was astonished. “But we just bought that last week, where could five
gallons of bleach have disapp….”
They all slowly turned to Heath and his bright yellow hair. Five angry voices
joined together. “HEATH!”
The object of their anger grinned a lopsided grin. Lopsidedly. “Well, ya know,
the gals seem to like it this way…”
“Ya gotta admit, he’s cute as a bug’s ear,” Nick remarked.
“Bug’s ear or no, we’re out of bleach! Now what’ll we do about my pillow- not
to mention Heath’s shirt!”
“Yeah, Heath,” Audra chimed in. “You keep ruining your shirts- the least you
could do would be to wear that red one, then the blood wouldn’t show!”
The family started buzzing about nervously, not knowing what to do.
Heath watched them, getting angrier by the minute. Enough is enough, he
thought. He stood up on shaky legs. “I’m gettin’ outta here.”
They all turned to him. “What?” Jarrod asked. “Why?”
He looked at them woefully. “Cause I don’t deserve to be around you nice folks.
Look at all the trouble I’ve caused. I’m no better than a low-down snake,
dadnubbit!” He slapped his leg angrily before remembering that his shoulder had
just had a pro…projec…a slug ripped out of it. Boy howdy, but that hurt.
He started walking to the door when Victoria’s voice stopped him.
“You listen here, Heath! You are a part of this family! Blood and sweat is what
ties us together, and you’ve bled and sweated enough for ten families! Wringing
out that shirt will prove that to anyone!” The rest of them nodded in agreement
as she continued.
“So you can leave…oh, you can leave! But no matter where you go, you’ll always
be my dead-husband’s-bastard-love-child-who-he-sired-while-cheating-on-me-his-loyal-wife-who-stayed-faithful-even-with-a-hunk-like-Jubal-Tanner-sniffing-around,
and nothing…NOTHING will ever change that!” She stamped her tiny foot for
emphasis. Sounds of agreement were heard from the family, with the word “bastard”
tossed around joyfully.
Heath wiped the happy tears from his eyes. “Mother…(well, not Mother,
really…more like…oh, forget it!) you don’t know what those words mean to me.”
He held onto the doorjamb as the all-too-familiar wooziness started to take over.
“While I’m still conscious, I got somethin’ I want to say…ta all of ya.”
He took a deep breath. “Today TODAY TODAY TODAY” He stopped. It seemed that the
word vibrated around the room. Must be the loss of blood, it’s making me hear
things, he thought, continuing. “Today…I consider myself MYSELF MYSELF MYSELF”
He looked at the family. They must have heard it too, they were all looking
fearfully around the room. Shrugging, he continued. “The luckiest man on the
face of the earth EARTH EARTH EARTH” The words fairly bounced off the walls,
and Audra started screaming. Her mother silenced her with…oh, come on, don’t
make me say it!
Heath smiled with satisfaction. I got the words out, he thought gratefully. It
would have been rude to just pass out in the middle of the sentence. My Mama
woulda…tanned…my…
As he started sinking to the floor, his beloved family swarmed around him,
holding him up. Suddenly there were footsteps, and Eugene came into the room.
“Hi, all! What’s going on here?” He took a look at Heath. “Oh no, not AGAIN?”
Heath nodded with the last of his strength. “Yup,” he croaked.
He suddenly fell to the ground as his family dropped him and ran to Eugene.
“Son, where have you been?” Victoria cried, holding onto him fiercely. “It’s
like we never see you anymore- how long has it been?”
Eugene smiled at his mother. “Only about five minutes- I was just upstairs
using the water closet.”
“Don’t you ever go off like that again!” Jarrod cried. “We were frantic with
worry!”
“Yes, little one,” Nick added gently. “Next time make sure one of us goes with
you.”
Eugene shook his head, wishing he had the nerve to tell the family to cut the
apron strings already. But the last time he’d upset his mother, he’d had to
drink his meals through a straw for a week. “OK,” he said.
As the family crowded around Eugene, smothering him with hugs and kisses, Heath
felt truly blessed. Not a more caring, loving family in the world, he thought
tenderly, just before passing out. Yep, I sure am lucky…
April Fool!