Big Words

by Stacey256

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.

Centennial.

Little Tom Barkley turned the word over in his mind. It was a very big word. Maybe the biggest word he knew.

Centennial.

That’s what Pappa had told him they were celebrating in Stockton. Well, actually, it was being celebrated all over America, Pappa said. The Fourth of July was America’s birthday, and this one was special because America was 100 years old.

Centennial. 100 years. That’s what centennial meant, Pappa said.

100 years . . . that was almost too big of a number to imagine. One time, one time when he had visited Pappa at the bank, Pappa had helped him stack up 100 pennies. Ten stacks of ten pennies, Tom remembered. That was 100 pennies. He was five years old, five years, five pennies, exactly one-half of his ten-penny stack. He’d had his fifth birthday this spring and it had seemed like forever from his fourth birthday to his fifth. That was just one year. 100 years was a long, long time.

“You sure are a quiet boy today, Tom,” his Uncle Heath’s voice broke into his thoughts.

“Just thinking, Uncle Heath,” the little boy swiveled his head so that he could look up at his uncle.

“Good thing to be doing, I reckon,” the man smiled down at him and then clucked at his horse to urge Charger into a trot. The change in gait drew a laugh from the little boy who was now bouncing in front of him. With a squeeze of his legs, Uncle Heath moved Charger into a smooth canter. In a few moments they caught up with Uncle Nick and Nicky on Big Duke. Unlike his older brother, little Nicky was chattering excitedly, pointing at birds that were flying up from the bushes along the road and the big white cloud in the sky that looked just like a sailboat. And Uncle Nick was just as noisy, pointing out the fat lizard sunning itself on a rock beside the road and the twisted tree that marked the path down to the stream.

“They sure are loud, aren’t they, Uncle Heath,” Tom sighed.

“Yep, they can be, but they can be fun, too,” his uncle nodded. “Nick, hold up a minute. We need to let the others catch back up with us.”

“No,” Nicky shouted.

“Aw, Heath,” Uncle Nick protested.

“Just for a few minutes,” Uncle Heath stopped Charger and Uncle Nick had no choice but to circle Big Duke back around and stop beside them.

“Too slow,” Nicky groused.

“Don’t whine, Nicky,” Tom scolded his brother.

“Not whining,” the little brother wrinkled his nose at his bossy big brother.

“Yes, you were,” Tom shot back.

Uncle Heath cut off any more arguments, “Look, there, here comes the surrey now with your mamma and sissy and Grandmother and Uncle Jarrod.”

“Where’s Pappa?” Nicky demanded.

“Right there, riding right behind the surrey. See him and Mr. Stievers,” Uncle Nick pointed.

Tom watched as his pappa stood up in his stirrups and waved at them. Smiling widely, Tom returned the wave. Despite Nicky’s continued protests, Uncle Nick and Uncle Heath held their horses until the surrey and other riders caught up with them so that they could all ride into town together. Tom’s bright blue eyes surveyed the bunting hung along the second floor balconies of the storefronts and the sign strung across the street. There was Uncle Gene, up on one of the balconies, helping to hang more bunting. Uncle Gene waved a hammer at him and Tom returned the wave. As he continued to look around he thought that Stockton sure looked different than when they arrived two days ago. You could tell that there was going to be a, a . . . . What was it that Pappa said?

Commemoration.

That’s what Pappa said there was going to be, a commemoration.

Commemoration.

A party, Pappa had explained. A big party to mark America’s birthday. That’s what a commemoration was. Another big word, Tom held onto the word in his mind, smiling, liking how the word twirled around his tongue when he whispered it. Commemoration.

As Uncle Heath swung down from Charger and then reached up to lift Tom down, the little boy reflected that he was sure glad that Pappa had convinced Mamma that they didn’t have to be dressed up in their Sunday clothes today. Pappa and Uncle Jarrod and Mr. Stievers were all dressed in suits but Tom’s other uncles were all dressed in their regular clothes. And Pappa had convinced Mamma that Tom and Nicky could just be dressed in their everyday clothes. The soft collar of his blue gingham shirt was certainly better than the stiff starched collar of his dress shirt, and it was sure so much easier to play in his overalls than it was in a pair of short pants and stockings.

Mamma came over to check on Tom and Nicky, smoothing down their hair and straightening their collars. Nicky was bouncing from one foot to the other, eager to see all that was going on in the town, but Tom patiently stood still. His patience won him a wink and a head pat from his pappa. Uncle Jarrod slipped him a nickel, but Tom saw that he also slipped one to Nicky. But that was probably better, Tom thought, this way he didn’t have to share whatever he bought with Nicky. Mamma was very strict about sharing. Uncle Nick was just about as eager as Nicky to be on their way. As soon as Mamma had given her nod of approval, he swung Nicky up on his shoulders and reached down to take Tom’s hand to hurry them down the boardwalk. As Tom trotted to keep up with his uncle’s long strides, he felt hands around his waist and he was suddenly boosted up onto his Uncle Heath’s shoulders.

Uncle Nick led them down to where there was a booth selling stick candy and got each of the little boys two sticks (“One for each hand,” Uncle Nick told Uncle Heath.). Then they went to the corral where some of the cowboys were having a calf roping contest. Along the way, several times they stopped to talk to groups of ladies. When one of them reached up to pinch Nicky’s cheek and call him precious, Tom held his breath, fearing that his little brother might snap at her fingers. But Nicky just made a face and sighed. When the ladies walked away, Uncle Nick whispered to Uncle Heath, “Told you we would get lots of attention from the ladies if we took the boys with us.” Uncle Heath just shook his head.

Uncle Nick and Uncle Heath each took a turn at calf roping, and Tom and Nicky cheered loudly. They then went over to the cookies and lemonade stand. Tom thought that the lemonade wasn’t as good as what Mr. Silas made but the cookies were good and the lemonade quenched his thirst. Uncle Nick and Uncle Heath took them over to where there was a couple of goats penned up to pet. One of the goats butted Nicky right onto his backside. They all laughed, even Nicky. They went by the bandstand to listen to the band play and watched as a man gave a speech. Uncle Heath said he was an important man, a senator. Uncle Nick said he was a big windbag but then warned Nicky and Tom not to say that to Uncle Jarrod. Again, they had to be polite as ladies oohed and aahed over them.

Then Uncle Nick and Uncle Heath took them to watch the greased pig contest, and Uncle Heath allowed that in a year or two Tom might be big enough to take part in the contest. Uncle Nick then bought them some sparklers to play with. Tom got to hold his by himself, but Uncle Heath helped Nicky with his . . . Nicky was a little put out that he had to be helped but Uncle Heath patiently explained that the sparklers were very hot and that he could get burned. Uncle Nick also had a few firecrackers that he lit and tossed on the ground. The loud pop made them all jump. By then Uncle Nick said it was about time to walk over to the campground to have the picnic that Grandmother and Mr. Silas had fixed for them all.

Mamma and Grandmother had picked a wonderful old oak tree to spread their quilts under. Grandmother told Uncle Nick and Uncle Heath that they needed to come with her to bring the hampers of food from the surrey. Uncle Nick boosted Nicky up into the lowest branches of the tree to play, but Tom proudly climbed up on his own. They were still playing there when Aunt Audra came over to visit with Mamma and to play with Lizzie V. Tom didn’t pay much attention to them as he carefully moved from branch to branch, hoping that Mamma wouldn’t notice how high up he was getting. He didn’t pay much attention until he heard his Aunt Audra say, “Uh oh, I think there’s trouble coming.”

“What?” Mamma said.

“That’s Livvy Anne Baxter. She’s the one that Peter danced with when he was first here,” Aunt Audra turned so that only Mamma could see her face. “He stepped outside with her and when they came back in, Livvy looked furious. Jarrod was so upset; he thought something had happened outside and that her father was going to be at the house the next morning demanding at least an apology, but Peter told the boys that she was angry because he didn’t kiss her. I think Livvy was very embarrassed by Peter’s . . . uhm . . . lack of response to her. She came be very snide, Sam.”

“Hmm,” Mamma said and then added, “Don’t worry, Audra, I can handle her.”

The other woman’s voice floated across the grass, “Hello, Audra. And this must be your sister-in-law. Samantha, right?”

Mamma smiled and extended her hand, “Yes, I’m Peter’s wife, Samantha. Audra was just telling me that you’re an old family friend. Livvy Anne, right?”

“That’s right,” the woman smiled, but it didn’t seem like a real smile, Tom thought. “I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to meet you before. I was back east, visiting family, when you were staying here this spring. But I did meet your husband, when he was first here, a year ago, when he was working with the sheriff. In fact, he and I spent some time together during a community dance.”

“Audra said you danced with him. Did he dance a waltz with you?” Mamma’s voice had changed, her words now sounded more like Uncle Robert’s, more French mingled with her southern tones. “Oh, I hope so. Peter waltzes beautifully.”

“Um, yes,” the other woman seemed surprised, but then managed to add in a sort of breathy voice, “It was . . . um . . . very energetic.”

Mamma just laughed, “That’s my Peter, very energetic. He didn’t say that naughty thing to you, did he?”

The woman was blushing now and she stammered, “What?”

“Yes, what?” Aunt Audra demanded.

“Oh, he just says that dancing a waltz is like making love. It can either be perfunctory or it can be done so that it is absolutely breathtaking,” Mamma laughed again. “And let me add that there is nothing perfunctory about my Peter.”

“Samantha,” Aunt Audra scolded and then laughed, too. But the other woman just stood there with her mouth open.

“I’m sorry. I know I’m being a bit risque, but you know how it is when it is just we ladies. We like to talk about our men,” Mamma waved a hand in the air. “Oh, one time, in a shop in New Orleans, I was buying some of my favorite fragrance and there was one of those women, you know, one of those painted women in there. She heard the clerk refer to me as Mrs. Barkley. She came up and asked if I was married to Peter Barkley. When I told her that I was, she laughed and told me ‘Well, if you’re only gonna have one man in your life, girl, you’re a lucky one. Peter Barkley is really something special. He knows how to treat a woman. We sure do miss him since he got married.’”

“Samantha!” Aunt Audra scolded again but was shaking with laughter.

“I know, isn’t that just awful,” Mamma rolled her eyes. “But it was good to know. At least, I was personally assured that my Peter no longer frequented those places after we were married and, well, I also knew that I wasn’t missing anything by being married to my Peter, by him being the only man in my life.” And then Mamma sighed.

The other woman just turned bright red and stammered that she needed to go visit some other friends. Aunt Audra was shaking with silent laughter and as soon as the woman got far enough way, she threw her arms around Mamma and they stood together laughing.

“Oh, Sam,” Aunt Audra gasped. “You are simply audacious.”

“Do you think?” Mamma replied between her own laughs. Tom thought she might have said something more but then Lizzie V. began pointing and calling, “Me pappa, me pappa.”

Tom’s eyes followed the direction that Lizzie was pointing. Sure enough, Pappa and Mr. Stievers and Uncle Jarrod were walking toward the big oak tree but had stopped to visit with someone.

“Tom, cherie, would you walk your little sister over to your pappa and tell him he needs to come on over? We’re going to be eating soon,” Mamma asked her eldest child.

“Oui, Mamma,” Tom swung down and dropped to ground. He extended his hand to his little sister and she grabbed on tightly and began to toddle with him toward where their pappa stood. Her fat little legs moved as fast as they could and her brother’s hand was the only thing that kept her up right. When they reached Pappa, he swooped Lizzie V. up, tossed her high in the air, and kissed her cheek, sending her into gales of laughter. Then he gave Tom a pat on his shoulder and a wink. Tom delivered Mamma’s message and Pappa excused himself and immediately began to walk toward Mamma.

“Pappa, what does audacious mean?” Tom asked as he reached up to take his pappa’s hand.

“Audacious?”

“Uh, huh, Aunt Audra said that Mamma was audacious.”

“When did she say this?”

“Mamma was talking to some woman that you danced with and afterwards Aunt Audra said Mamma was audacious. So what does audacious mean?”

Pappa frowned slightly and then murmured, “Umm, it means that something is so surprising, so unbelievable, that you just can’t think of the words to tell about it.”

“Oh,” Tom contemplated the word.

Audacious.

A very good big word. Nicky was audacious, he thought. So was Uncle Nick.

Audacious.

They had reached the oak tree and Aunt Audra said she was going to go invite the Wheelers to join them under the tree. Tom had heard Grandmother tell Mamma that Aunt Audra and Carl Wheeler were seeing each other again . . . but Tom wasn’t sure what that meant. He could see Aunt Audra and he could see Mr. Wheeler. How was it that sometimes they did not see each other? He did know that Mr. Wheeler had come by the ranch earlier today to get Aunt Audra and bring her to town.

After Aunt Audra walked away, Pappa put Lizzie V. down on the quilt and Tom sat beside her, helping her play with her doll. He noticed Pappa studying Mamma and then heard Pappa quietly ask, “What have you been up to, Sam?”

“What?” Mamma said innocently.

“Tom said that you were talking to some woman that I had danced with and then Audra said you were audacious.”

“Oh, that. Oh, I was just stopping a Miss Livvy Anne Baxter from saying something foolish,” Mamma shrugged.

“Livvy Anne Baxter? Oh, yes,” Pappa nodded but then narrowed his eyes, “What did you say to her, Sam?”

“Nothing much,” Mamma smiled up at him. “I just let her know that I was a very lucky woman and that I get much more than a waltz from you. Oh, I may have mentioned my little encounter with Isabella.”

“Sam,” Pappa hissed. “My mother lives in this town. I would prefer she didn’t find out from her acquaintances about my past escapades that occurred halfway across the country years ago.”

“Oh, I think we’re safe,” Mamma laughed. “I don’t think Miss Livvy Anne Baxter will be repeating our conversation.”

“You are audacious, Sam,” Pappa shook his head.

“I think your sister exaggerates a little.”

“You were very audacious early this morning, Mrs. Barkley,” Pappa wrapped his arms around Mamma and kissed her neck. “The audacious things you were doing to me this morning and the audacious things you were wanting me to do to you. Yes, Audra is right. You are very audacious.”

Mamma’s cheeks got very pink and she whispered, “Behave yourself, Peter Barkley. The family is coming.”

“You didn’t want me to behave this morning,” Pappa teased.

“Behave now,” Mamma repeated. “And maybe we’ll talk about misbehaving tonight.”

Pappa laughed and released Mamma just as Grandmother and Uncle Nick and Uncle Heath arrived with the hampers of food. And then Mr. Stievers and Uncle Jarrod were there and everyone was busy getting everything ready for the picnic. Aunt Audra and Mr. Wheeler and Mr. Wheeler’s parents also showed up and spread their quilts beside the Barkleys. Grandmother told Mrs. Wheeler that Uncle Gene was eating with the Hanson family but they might see him later. As always, Mr. Silas’ picnic was wonderful and they all laughed and talked as they ate the cold chicken and the potato salad and the chocolate cake. When neither Nicky nor Tom could clean their plates, Mamma scolded Uncle Nick for buying them too much candy. Uncle Nick just grinned and shrugged.

After the picnic, Mamma insisted that both Nicky and Lizzie V. nap a little so that they would be awake for that evening’s dance and fireworks. Nicky protested a good bit but dozed off quickly when Grandmother got him to rest his head in her lap and she gently fanned him. When Mrs. Wheeler said he looked like an angel, Tom exchanged a look with his pappa and they both rolled their eyes. Mrs. Wheeler had no idea. Most everyone except Mamma and Grandmother and Mrs. Wheeler got up to stretch their legs. Pappa took Tom’s hand and they walked down to where the little creek was and tossed in a few rocks. As they were walking back toward the oak tree, an older couple stopped them to visit.

“Hello, Peter,” the man extended his hand. “How are you doing?”

“Very well, Mr. Allen. And you and Mrs. Allen?” Pappa shook the man’s hand.

“We’re fine, Peter,” the man answered.

“Saw your mother and your wife and your little girl earlier, Peter,” the lady smiled at them both. “Your little girl looks so sweet in her red gingham dress and bonnet with that blue embroidered trim. Very patriotic.”

“Mother’s doing. She seems to have a new dress for Lizzie V. every time we visit,” Pappa sighed.

“Victoria told me that she feels as if all the needlework she’s done through the years was just practice for when she had a granddaughter to embroider dresses for. She’s having great fun,” the lady said. “And which of your boys is this?”

Pappa patted Tom’s head, “This is our oldest, Tom. Tom, this is Mr. Allen and his wife Mrs. Allen. Mr. Allen runs one of the banks here in Stockton.”

“Tom Barkley,” Mr. Allen smiled as he bent down and shook the hand that Tom politely held out. “Peter, your father would be so proud that his first grandson is named after him.”

Pappa just nodded and smiled, “It’s a good name. Tom is actually named after both his grandfathers. He’s Thomas Henri.”

“A very fine name,” Mr. Allen agreed. “Jarrod introduced me to your partner, Mr. Stievers. You two aren’t scouting around and thinking about starting a branch of your bank here in Stockton are you?”

“Horace!” Mrs. Allen scolded her husband, but Mr. Allen just continued to eye Pappa closely.

“No, Barton just wanted to get out of the city for a few days so he came along with us. Besides, I think that running the bank in San Francisco is enough for the two of us,” Pappa shook his head. “On top of that, I’m not sure Nick and I should be in the same town too often. Don’t think the town could handle our fights as well as it used to.”

Mr. Allen laughed loudly, “Ah, I remember those fights well. You know, Tom, I saw your grandfather pick up both your father and your Uncle Nick and drop them into a water trough when they wouldn’t quit wrestling around after he told them to stop.”

Tom grinned broadly as the adults all laughed. He tried to imagine someone strong enough to lift both Pappa and Uncle Nick. His grandfather must have been very, very strong . . . like his pappa. Mr. Allen continued, “Well, I’m relieved I’m not going to be facing some new competition from those young San Francisco bankers everyone is talking about.”

“Oh, I don’t think the Stockton Bank has much to worry about from some upstarts in San Francisco. Your bank has one of the best reputations in the state,” Pappa said.

“Well, it’s nice to hear another banker say that, especially one of those upstarts. A reputation is an important thing in the banking world, Peter,” Mr. Allen replied.

“I know, sir. My father-in-law told me that many times,” Pappa nodded his head.

“Your father would have told you the same thing,” the other man said softly. “He told me that a good many times when we were starting our bank.”

“Our bank?” Pappa sounded surprised.

“Oh, yes, our bank. Your father met me in San Francisco when he was doing his banking there. He got it into his head that I would be the perfect person to start the first bank in Stockton. But I didn’t have the money to start things and wasn’t sure I could find enough investors. Your father was the major backer of the first bank in Stockton, he lined up the other investors, and he brought me in to manage it,” Mr. Allen explained.

“Father was a partner in the bank? I mean, I knew he was a stockholder and on the board, but I didn’t remember him having such a large share,” Pappa said.

“It wasn’t common knowledge. Your father was very much a silent partner. And, according to our agreement, he let me buy up his shares of stock until I became the majority owner,” the other man replied. “I remember thanking him once for giving me such an opportunity. He said it was a good investment for him; however, someday, if one of his sons took a liking to banking, maybe I could make a place for him at the bank. Pretty funny that you turned out to be a banker. Almost like your father could see into the future.”

“Ah, I don’t think he could see into the future and I’m certain that he wasn’t expecting me to ever end up as a banker,” Pappa’s mouth was set in a straight line.

Mr. Allen frowned slightly and then his mouth curved into a smile, “I bet you didn’t realize that you still have an account at the bank.”

“What?” Pappa sounded very surprised. “I told Father to take the money.”

“He told me that,” Mr. Allen nodded. “It was several years after you left and we were going over the accounts and I made myself ask him what he wanted to do about your little account, if he wanted me to close it and roll the money into another account. I hated that look he got whenever someone mentioned your name. You could see it just crushed him. It was then he told me what you had said in your note, to take the money in your account to help pay for 14 years of room and board. He told me to leave the account open, that if you ever came back he wanted you to know that you owed him nothing. When he was killed, I went over the accounts with Jarrod and told your brother what your father had said. Jarrod said to leave the account. So it’s there, Peter. What would you like me to do with it?”

Pappa looked stunned but then he smiled, “Why don’t you just keep it open. I kinda like the idea of having money in the Stockton Bank.”

“Good,” Mr. Allen reached out to pat Pappa’s arm. “I like the idea, too. Listen, I know your mother likes to have you all to herself whenever you come to Stockton, but if you get a chance, come by the bank sometime. We’ll talk. Bring this young man with you. Maybe it won’t be a Barkley son I need to make a place for; maybe it’s a grandson.” He winked at Pappa.

Pappa nodded and returned the wink, “Maybe you’re right. We’ll try to get by the bank soon. It was good to see you both again. I’m sure that my wife is wondering what’s keeping us. Tom’s little brother is probably about to run her ragged.”

“Heard he takes after his namesake,” Mr. Allen laughed. “You best go relieve her. Give her our best and I expect to see you soon.”

Pappa nodded his farewell and reached down to take Tom’s hand. As they walked across the campground, Tom gently tugged on his pappa’s hand, “Pappa, what’s a reputation?”

“Hmm?”

“Mr. Allen said a reputation was important. What’s a reputation?”

“A reputation is, umm, it’s the way people think of you,” Pappa replied. “When people think of you, do they think of you as being a good boy or a bad boy? Do they think you treat folks well, are kind to your brother and sister, obey your parents? That’s your reputation.”

“Mr. Allen said it was important that a bank has a good reputation. That Grandfather Tom told him that. And you said Grandfather Henri told you the same thing. Does our bank have a good reputation?”

“I think so,” Pappa said seriously. “But you have to understand, a reputation is something you have to work on everyday. You can never stop trying to make your reputation the best. Next to protecting his family, protecting his reputation is about the most important thing a man can do.”

Reputation.

A big word, Tom thought, as he swung his father’s arm.

Reputation.

An important big word, he decided. A word he wanted to remember.

Pappa and Tom walked back to the big oak tree. The only ones left on the quilts were Mamma, Nicky, and Lizzie V. Lizzie V. was still napping but Nicky was awake and trying to get Mamma to lift him up into the tree. Mamma, however, was being firm. She gave Pappa one of her “it’s about time” looks. Pappa sat down on the quilt beside Nicky and gently stroked Lizzie V.’s back when the baby stirred.

“Where are the fireworks?” Nicky demanded.

“It’ll be a while yet, Nicky. It has to be dark,” Pappa said.

“Ohh,” the little boy groaned and dropped his head onto his arm. “Nothing to do.”

“Well, you could practice sitting and being quiet,” his father offered. Tom knew Pappa was teasing but it was fun to see the look of pure horror fly across his little brother’s face.

“Pappa!” Nicky wailed. “Supposed to be fun today.”

“Sitting and being quiet isn’t fun?” Pappa said innocently.

“No, Pappa!” Nicky shook his head in disgust.

Tom saw Pappa give Mamma one of his special looks, one of the looks that always made her smile and laugh at him. “Well,” Pappa drew the word out, “why don’t I take you boys on a little walk around town just to stretch your legs and give your mamma a little rest. I can probably think of a story or two to tell you about when I was growing up here and we used to come to town.”

“Merci, Peter,” sure enough, Mamma smiled and laughed softly. “Have a nice walk with your pappa, my little boys.”

“You’re welcome, Sam,” Pappa laughed, too. He leaned down and kissed Lizzie V.’s brown curls and Mamma’s cheek and then stood. Nicky had already bounded to his feet and was tugging on their pappa’s hand. Tom rolled his eyes at Nicky and, imitating his pappa, leaned over to kiss Lizzie and then Mamma before he stood.

“Well, thank you, Monsieur Thomas Henri, that was very sweet. You enjoy your walk with your pappa ,” she touched the tip of his nose with her finger.

“Oui, Mamma,” Tom smiled happily. He liked it when Mamma called him monsieur. It made him feel very grown up.

As they walked through the campgrounds, they saw various members of the family. Uncle Nick and Uncle Heath were playing horseshoes with some other men. Uncle Jarrod was sitting talking to the man who had given the speech earlier at the gazebo. Aunt Audra was with Mr. Wheeler, sharing some of the pie that Aunt Audra had baked. Grandmother and Uncle Gene were talking with Dr. Merar and his wife. Pappa stopped for a few minutes to visit with them, too, and Mrs. Merar fussed over both Tom and Nicky, saying what beautiful little boys they were and kissing both of them on the cheek. Nicky rudely informed her that “boys not beautiful.” Pappa immediately scolded Nicky and made him apologize to Mrs. Merar, but she just laughed and gave Nicky another kiss and said that he was absolutely right. Boys weren’t beautiful; they were handsome. And Victoria Barkley’s grandsons were among the most handsome. Nicky said that he thought that was probably all right. All the grownups laughed and then Grandmother also gave the boys a hug and a kiss and sent them on their way.

They walked out of the campgrounds and into town. By the time they reached the square, Nicky said his legs were getting tired, so Pappa put him on his shoulders. Tom proudly continued to walk beside them, holding his pappa’s hand, listening to Pappa’s stories about the things that he and the uncles would do when they came to town. They walked up to the little patch of grass and trees that surrounded the statue of the man on the horse. Tom had noticed the statue before when they were in town but this was the first time they’d actually walked up to it. His eyes scanned the figure, from the cowboy hat that was tipped to shade his face down the coat that spanned the man’s broad shoulders and then flared across the horse’s flanks. His eyes lingered on the plaque at the base of the statue. He knew those letters well.

“Thomas Barkley?” Tom’s eyes went to his father’s face.

“Yep, that’s your grandfather,” his pappa nodded slowly.

“Why do they have a statue of Grandfather?”

“Well, a few years back the folks around here wanted to do something special to remember your grandfather, to remember all the good things he did for folks in this valley, so they had this statue made,” Pappa’s voice was soft.

“Is that really our grandfather?” Nicky asked, frowning deeply.

“Well, it’s a statue of him,” Pappa said. “You know, like some of the little statues that we have around the house. This one just happens to be real-size.”

Tom tilted his head to again look up to the top of the statue. “He looks like you, Pappa,” he said as he studied the face of the statue.

His pappa’s voice sounded a little strange but his words were calm, “Yep, I favor him a good bit.”

“Can I sit on Grandfather’s horse, Pappa?” Nicky asked.

“Um, sure,” Pappa said and he shifted to set Nicky on the back of the horse. Nicky rocked back and forth for a few minutes, pretending to ride, but quickly tired and asked to be put back down. Pappa lifted him off and teasingly pretended he was going to drop him before he carefully set him down. Nicky laughed and then dropped down to his knees to play in the dirt at the base of the statue.

“Do you want to sit on the horse, Tom?” Pappa asked gently.

Tom looked up and slowly nodded. Pappa picked him up easily and placed him on the horse. Tom put his hand out to touch the broad back of the man riding the horse. It was cold and hard, nothing like when he would ride behind Pappa. He frowned.

“You all right, Tom?” Pappa asked quickly. Tom nodded and when Pappa asked, “Do you want down?” he nodded again.

Pappa picked him up and set him back down on the ground, but then knelt down in front of him. “Are you all right, Tom?” he repeated.

The little boy didn’t answer for a few moments and then put his hand out to touch the boot in the stirrup. “I wish,” he started and then stopped.

“What, son? What do you wish?” Pappa gently prompted.

Tom swallowed hard “I wish that Grandfather wasn’t a statue. I wish he wasn’t in heaven with God. I wish he was here with us.”

Pappa’s eyes were a little sad and he reached out to gently rub Tom’s head. “I wish that, too, son,” he finally said. “I know he would have loved to be here with you boys. He would have been a good grandfather.”

“Why is Grandfather in heaven?” Nicky looked up from the dirt pile he had scraped together.

“Bad men killed Grandfather,” Tom replied curtly, and then added more softly, “I wished they hadn’t.”

“I wish they hadn’t, too, son,” Pappa again gently rubbed Tom’s head. “But we don’t always get our wishes.”

“But I never got to know Grandfather,” Tom pouted a little, his eyes moving back up to regard the frozen man on the horse.

Pappa didn’t answer for several moments and when he did speak his voice was soft, “Well, you may never have gotten to know him personally, but you are getting to know him, Tom.”

“How, Pappa?”

“You know how Uncle Jarrod slips you nickels when he thinks your mamma isn’t watching and how anytime that he holds Lizzie V. he lets her play with his watch chain?”

“Yes.”

“Well, those are just the things your grandfather used to do.”

“Really?” the little boy was surprised

“Uh huh, and how Uncle Nick will let you ride in front of him and hold the reins of Big Duke and he’ll take you down by the herd to let you help move cattle?”

“Grandfather did those things, too?”

“He sure did. And when Uncle Heath lets you sit up on the corral top rail all by yourself but he stands behind you and puts his hands on either side of you . . . just in case . . . well that’s just how your grandfather would do me and your uncles. And this spring when Uncle Gene helped you climb up in the tree by the house so you could see the eggs in the robin’s nest. I can remember your grandfather boosting me up into that very same tree when I was a little boy so I could see a nest.”

Tom grinned broadly at the idea of someone having to boost his pappa up into a tree. Pappa smiled back at him and then frowned slightly, his eyes no longer seemed to be looking at Tom. When he spoke, his voice sounded a little sad, “People will tell you about your grandfather’s legacy, Tom, about all he did for the valley, about the ranch he built, the other businesses. But those things, Uncle Jarrod slipping you nickels, and Uncle Nick letting you ride herd with him, and all the other things, those are all a part of the legacy that he left us, too, Tom. Maybe even the best part.”

“Legacy, Pappa? What’s a legacy?” Tom’s forehead wrinkled.

“A legacy is a special gift, a very special gift of the best of what a person is that he leaves to those he loves the most,” Pappa’s hand was gentle as it squeezed his son’s shoulder. “Now, I think we need to go find Mamma and Lizzie V. Won’t be long before the fireworks will start.”

“Yes, Pappa,” Tom smiled at the man he loved the most. Pappa reached over and tickled Nicky and then swooped him up onto his shoulder. He extended his hand to Tom and the little boy took it. As they walked toward the campgrounds, he looked over his shoulder once more at the big statue of his grandfather.

Legacy.

That was another big word, Tom thought.

Legacy

Another big word he had learned. He smiled. Another good word.

THE END