The Kate Chronicles
by ShiningStar
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.
My brother Gene was the quiet one, the one who stayed in
the background, the one no one ever really noticed. It didn’t seem to bother
him though. However, as I grew older, I felt guilty somehow for taking so much
of the family’s attention when he received so little of it. I was, after all,
the outsider in so many ways.
Gene was in college when I came into the family. Like
Jarrod, he’d made it clear early on that he wasn’t interested in running the
ranch. He said later that, after Heath came, it was easier to follow his own
path.
I was pretty good at doing everything on the ranch. Nick
sort of took me under his wing after Father died. So I felt bad about not
wanting to work with him for the rest of my life. When Heath came, Nick had the
partner he really needed. I’ve always been grateful for that.
Because he was at the ranch when we visited—Christmas and
summers—I got to know Gene as well as the others. Then, when he was accepted
for a residency in surgery at Vanderbilt in Nashville when I was twelve, I saw
him frequently.
But even before that, Gene and I had a special
relationship. Gene loved books, and so did I. My library was bountiful—thanks
to Papa—and I always tucked several volumes into my trunk each time we went to
the ranch.
Jarrod was busy working in his law office, and Nick and
Heath were out all day overseeing the ranch. I attached myself to Audra, but at
least once a day, Gene and I closeted ourselves in the library to read.
When I was small, I sat in his lap with my head pillowed
against his chest, feeling as well as hearing the rise and fall of his smooth,
expressive voice. In truth, I sat in his lap long after I’d outgrown it—until
my long legs dangled to the floor. Gene and his wife Lucy never had any
children—though they wanted them—so I received all their love and attention.
Lucy wasn’t beautiful like Audra. In fact, she was—in her
own words—quite plain. But she was kind and compassionate and gave Gene
all the adulation that he didn't have growing up.
Once, before she died, Mother confided her feelings to me.
Gene was too often overlooked—and overshadowed. He was so different from the
others, even from Jarrod. I don’t suppose we understood him. I’m not sure we
tried hard enough. Tom adored him just as he did all the children, but he said
himself that Gene wasn’t like the others. I had a difficult pregnancy—and his
birth was traumatic. And, Tom and I were emotionally estranged at the time. I
often wondered if that affected Gene even before he was born.
He needed someone like Lucy—someone to whom he was her
whole world, her entire reason for being. I know they wanted children, but
sometimes I think it was for the best. Gene needs all of Lucy all the time.
But long before I knew Mother’s feelings, I felt myself
that Gene was different. When the family was together in the parlor in the
evenings after dinner, he rarely offered an opinion or shared anything about
himself. We didn’t even know about the unique surgery he’d performed to
reconstruct a man’s face after he’d been trampled by a horse until Jarrod read
it in a San Franciso newspaper and brought home the article to share with
everyone.
Well, I wasn’t sure it would succeed, you know. It had
never been done before, but I thought it was worth the attempt. He had no face
left to speak of—and he was a young man with his whole life ahead of him. I
really didn’t have any choice but to try.
I remember how Nick stomped over to the table and poured
himself a brandy. You shoulda told us about it, Gene! We’re your family!
Gene smiled and shrugged. Sorry, Nick.
No one said anything for a few minutes. Then Papa spoke
up. It goes without saying that your entire family is proud of you, Gene.
Something flickered in Gene’s eyes. Thank you, Royce.
You don’t tell us enough about your work, Gene, Mother
said.
What do you want to know?
Mother didn’t often betray her emotions in her expression,
but I thought she appeared rather flustered by his blunt question. The
conversation ended there.
* * * * * * * *
I don’t know if Gene influenced me to become a doctor, but
he whetted my interest in everything medical. Outside of Lucy, I think I was
the only one he really talked to about what he did. I remember feeling very
hurt, that summer that Nick taught me to shoot, when I announced that I was
going to be a doctor, and Gene teased
me about shooting people so I could patch them up. Later, he apologized to me
privately.
I don’t know what made me say that, KatieBee. It was mean,
and I’m sorry. Nick and Jarrod used to hurt my feelings all the time—and I’d
cut off my arm before I’d hurt yours.
I thought of how Mother had chastised him sharply—and
wondered if she’d ever defended him the same way. I didn’t ask though.
* * * * * * * *
Gene had a large practice in Nashville until about the
time I finished Beauville School for Young Ladies. Then he closed it and
moved San Francisco where he opened a clinic in the poorest section of the
city. There was no discussion—and no announcement other than the night he and
Lucy came to dinner and told us, as they were leaving, that the move was
imminent.
The next day, after school, I walked to his office and
waited until the last patient had gone.
Why, Gene?
He patted my cheek. It’s something I’ve thought of for
a long time, KatieBee. It’s just something I have to do.
But why?
There are people who need me more.
I don’t understand.
People who can’t get medical care because they have no
money—and because they’re not important enough.
Who are you talking about?
The dockworkers and their families. The men who live in
doorways and under bridges. The women who sell themselves just to stay alive.
But, Gene, you’re—you’re a surgeon! I’ve heard people say
that you’re the best there is! You’ll be throwing all that away if you go to
San Francisco!
Will I, my sweet KatieBee? Will I really?
I—I think—oh, Gene, I just don’t understand!
He took my hands and led me to the fine leather sofa in
his private office. KatieBee, I’m not going to go hungry. If anything
happens to me, Lucy’s provided for. But I can’t practice medicine for myself
anymore. I can’t explain it to you, but I think you’ll understand if you really
think about it. There’s something inside of me that’s dying—something I don’t
want to lose. Maybe it’s the idealism I had when I was younger. Maybe it’s a
feeling for the human condition that seems to be disappearing these days.
Have you told this to Mother? Or Jarrod or Nick or Heath?
Or Audra?
Sweet girl, they’re my family, and I love them deeply.
They’re good people—the best—and they’d try to understand—but they wouldn’t.
But you’re telling me.
You asked.
* * * * * * * *
So they had gone, selling their modest home and all but
what was necessary to set up an office and housekeeping in a shabby wooden
building that had once housed a grocery market.
By the next summer when we visited the ranch, they were
firmly established in what Nick termed the hellhole of the world. When
we went to visit them, I’d never seen Gene happier—or so much at peace with
himself. I begged to be left behind for a week’s visit, anticipating that Gene
would put me to work in the clinic.
Papa was reluctant. I admire Gene tremendously, Kate
precious, but you’re my daughter—and this isn’t a safe place.
I pleaded my case with Mother, who was equally adamant. No,
Kate, you can’t stay here. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.
But the next summer they relented, and I stayed two weeks.
By the time I returned, my decision to study medicine was irrevocable. I wasn’t
sure I could do—or even wanted to do—what Gene did. I knew that I could care
for broken and diseased bodies—but Gene ministered to their shattered souls and
spirits as well. Nevertheless, I knew I was going to be a doctor.
* * * * * * * *
Gene and Lucy were there to see me graduate from medical
school. They were there two years later when Mother became ill just as I
finished my residency and began to practice.
How will you manage, sweet girl?
I’ll manage, Gene.
I have an associate now—an eager young man who grew up on
the docks himself. I could come back for awhile and. . .
No, Gene—I’ll be all right. Papa’s already agreed to let
me find round-the-clock nurses when Mother needs them.
She’ll need them soon.
I know.
How does her physician feel about managing her pain?
You mean will he give her enough medication?
You know that’s what I mean. Enough could be too much.
She’s dying anyway, Gene!
You’re a doctor now. You know what they taught you in
medical school.
For the first time, I had doubts about my ability to watch
my Mother die.
When the time comes, if he won’t give it to you, I will.
And he did. I think Mother’s doctor knew—but he never said
anything. He was prominent in Nashville and, despite his compassion, he
wouldn’t breach the medical ethics of the day even for a dying woman. Lucy came
back to Nashville and brought the morphine. I broke down when she handed me the
box of vials.
You’ll have the strength to do what you have to do,
KatieBee.
What if. . .what if I inject her sometime and. . .and she
dies? I’ll have killed my own mother!
She wrapped me in her gentle arms and kissed my forehead.
* * * * * * * *
Over the years, Gene’s clinic flourished, though he fought
ignorance, prejudice, and public opinion every day. When Jarrod could no longer
manage the family business, Gene returned to Stockton and took over. The strain
of traveling between Stockton and San Francisco eventually told on him, and he
had a heart attack.
After that, he turned the clinic over to others and put
the family business into Trevor’s hands. Then he and Lucy traveled all over the
United States and into Canada. It was on one of those trips that he fell down
the hotel stairs, breaking his neck and becoming permanently paralyzed. I
dropped everything and rushed to be with him. He didn’t know the truth, but
Lucy did. Two weeks later, he died
peacefully in his sleep.
We took him back to Stockton and buried him with the others—Tom
Barkley, Mother, Papa, Jarrod, Nick, Heath, and Audra. Some people said he’d
been a saint—others said he’d been a fool to waste his skill on the dregs of
society.
Before I went back to Nashville, Lucy came to my room with
a sketch she’d done of the stone she planned to have made for his grave.
Edward Eugene Barkley, M.D.
1862-1937
Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these
My brethren,
Ye have done it unto Me
THE END