Old Flames

Chapters 33-37

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.

Chapter 33

Peter spun around and stared up at his bedroom windows. Eugene was hanging out, yelling his name. For a moment, Peter just froze, fear numbing his mind. But then Gene called down, “Hey, Pete, you need to get up here. There’s somebody you need to meet.”

And then the soft cry of a newborn wafted down from the window.

Peter barked a laugh of relief. He turned a smiling face toward his children, “Tom, you and Nicky and Lizzie V. stay here until we call down for you. Uncle Jarrod and Aunt Audra and Miss Christiana and Mr. Barton will watch you until then.” He trotted off toward this house, easily hurdling the low hedge at the edge of Samantha’s garden.

“Do you think Sam’s all right?” Barton whispered to Jarrod.

“She’s just fine,” Jarrod grinned as he watched Gene lower the window. “Did you see the smile on Gene’s face? Everything is just fine.”

“Baby? My baby?” Lizzie V. piped up.

“Yes,” Christiana hugged the little girl. “Your baby brother or sister is here.”

“Which?” Nicky demanded.

“Well, we don’t know yet,” Audra said quickly, “but we’ll be finding out real soon. I bet Mamma and Pappa are going to let you come upstairs and see the new baby soon.”

“Is the baby who Uncle Gene said Pappa needed to meet?” Tom asked.

“That’s right,” Jarrod smiled up at the little boy who was leaning out of his tree house. As he gave the swing another push, a long forgotten memory suddenly flashed in his mind. His laugh was just as spontaneous.

“What?” Christiana looked back over her shoulder at him.

“Just remembering something,” he grinned down at her.

“What?” she repeated.

“What is it, Jarrod?” Audra asked.

“I just remembered something that happened when I was six years old,” his eyes twinkled as he gently pushed the swing again.

“I’m almost six,” Tom said excitedly.

“That’s right,” his uncle nodded. “You’ll be six in just a few weeks. So I was just about your age when this happened.”

“What happened?” Tom urged.

“Well, I remember I was six and your Uncle Nick was about the size of Lizzie V.” Jarrod started.

Nicky interrupted, “Uncle Nick was THAT little!” The little boy covered his mouth with a hand as he snickered.

Jarrod chuckled, “Yes, I know it’s a little hard to believe, but Uncle Nick was once that little.”

“What happened?” Tom repeated.

“Well, your grandfather and Duke . . . you remember Duke at the ranch, don’t you?”

“We call him Uncle Duke,” Tom replied. “Pappa says he’s not our real uncle but that he acted sorta like an uncle to Pappa when he was growing up so it’s all right for us to call him Uncle Duke.”

Jarrod nodded, “I think that’s a good thing. Well, your grandfather and your Uncle Duke had taken me and your Uncle Nick out of the house . . . our old house, where Uncle Duke and Aunt Hattie live now . . . over to the old oak tree where the swing is now. But there wasn’t a swing there back then. No, this particular day was the day that your grandfather put up the first swing. He and your Uncle Duke had me watch Uncle Nick while your grandfather climbed up into the tree and Uncle Duke threw the rope up to him. Once they got the swing rigged up, he let me get in it first and he pushed me. Of course, pretty quickly I figured out how to pump myself. After a bit, your grandfather had me hold your Uncle Nick on my lap and I swung the two of us for a while. I didn’t realize it, but your grandfather went into the house. The next thing I knew he was calling to me from the front door of the house. He said, ‘Jarrod, come here, there’s someone you need to meet.’ Uncle Duke took your Uncle Nick, and I ran to your grandfather. He took me inside and into his and your grandmother’s bedroom and introduced me to my new little brother. Do you know who that was?”

“No,” Nicky shook his head, but Tom grinned widely, “It was Pappa, wasn’t it, Uncle Jarrod.”

“That’s right, Tom,” Jarrod winked. “That was the day that your pappa was born.”

“And you ‘member it, Uncle Jarrod?” Tom studied his uncle’s face closely.

“Yes, I do.”

“I don’t ‘member when Nicky or Lizzie was borned,” the little boy confessed.

“You were too little,” Jarrod soothed. “I don’t remember your Uncle Nick being born, but I’ll always remember the first time I saw your pappa, just like you’re going to always remember the first time you get to see this new little brother or sister.”

“Really?”

“Really,” his uncle promised.

“Look,” Audra pointed toward the second floor of the house. “There’s Pappa and he’s motioning for us to come upstairs. I think we’re going to get to see the new baby.”

Tom scrambled down out of the tree house on his own and Nicky got a hand from “Mr. Bardon.” Christiana surrendered the laughing Lizzie V. to “Aunt Auda.” With the two little boys leading the way, the group hurried into the house and up the stairs. Jarrod started to caution Nicky about being loud around the baby, but he needn’t have worried. Tom reached out to grab his little brother’s arm just as they reached the open bedroom door. “You have to be quiet, Nicky, ‘cause the baby is just new. You don’t want to scare it and make it cry, all right?”

“I will,” Nicky promised even as he tugged on his brother’s hand. “Wanna see Mamma and the baby.”

“Well, come on in, little men,” it was a smiling Dr. Vanders who stood at the door and greeted them. “I think your mamma is very anxious to introduce you to someone.”

“Our baby,” Nicky announced.

“That’s right, your baby,” the doctor agreed.

“My baby,” Lizzie V. vigorously protested.

“Hmm,” the doctor fought back a smile. He just winked at the baby’s aunt and then excused himself, saying he’d be back in a few days to check on the family. Jarrod hastily pulled a cigar out of his coat pocket and handed it to the doctor. Dr. Vanders grinned now, “Well, I already have one cigar from the father but a second one from the uncle is a nice bonus. Thank you, Mr. Barkley. Go enjoy the new addition to the family.”

Jarrod slipped into the room beside Barton and just behind Audra and Christiana who were both ooing and awing over the small bundle that Samantha was holding in her arms. He couldn’t believe how beautiful his sister-in-law looked. Her smile, always beautiful, was simply dazzling. Peter had lifted Nicky onto the bed and Audra had placed Lizzie V. next to him. Tom was standing on his tiptoes so that he could get a better look at the tiny red face and Peter quickly reached down to also place the oldest boy on the bed.

“Oh, ma cheres,” Samantha smiled at her trio. “This is your new baby . . . brother.”

“A brother?” Tom’s wide smile matched his mother’s.

“Yea!” Nicky cheered and then bit his lip when the baby jumped. “Did I hurt him?”

“No,” Samantha reached out to stroke her exuberant second-born’s face. “He needs to get use to the noise so the sooner the better.”

“What’s his name, Mamma?” Tom asked.

“Audra Jocelyn,” his father said dryly.

Tom looked up at his father in concern, “That’s a girl’s name.”

“Girl’s name!” Nicky was horrified.

“Well, that the only name your mamma has come up with,” Peter informed them. “So I guess that’s what it’s got to be.”

“Pappa!” Tom was stunned. His little brother couldn’t have a girl’s name.

“No, Pappa!” Nicky pleaded.

“Peter,” Samantha scolded him. “Quit teasing the boys.”

“Well, it’s the truth. When I asked you about a name, you’ve always said Audra Jocelyn. You were so sure this was going to be a girl, I figured you never bothered to pick a boy’s name,” he told her.

“I have a name all picked out for him,” she wrinkled her nose at him. “We’re going to call him Jebbie.”

“Jebbie,” Tom tried the name out and nodded in approval. Whew, it was much better than Audra Jocelyn.

“Jebbie,” Nicky mimicked his older brother.

“Jebbie,” Lizzie V. said it perfectly and then added, “My Jebbie.”

“Jebbie?” Peter was obviously confused by the selection but a further comment was cut off by Lizzie V.’s request.

“Hold my Jebbie?” the little girl looked from her mother to her father.

“You want to hold your brother?” Samantha asked.

Lizzie V. nodded her head vigorously.

“He’s not a dolly, Lizzie, so you must be careful,” her mother gently admonished.

“Not dolwy,” Lizzie V. said seriously. “Baby. My baby. My Jebbie.”

“All right,” Samantha looked to her husband for help.

Peter reached over to pick up his newest child and then knelt in front of his baby daughter, “All right, Lizzie. You can hold him on your lap, but you have to be gentle with him.” He carefully laid the baby in Lizzie’s arms but kept his hands close in case the weight became too much for her.

Lizzie V., however, was perfectly confident about holding her baby brother. “Jebbie,” she whispered. “My Jebbie.” And she bent to place a soft kiss on the baby’s forehead.

Peter and Samantha exchanged proud smiles and then Peter reached to ease the baby out of her arms, “Let’s let Nicky have his turn.”

“No,” Lizzie V. frowned at her pappa. “My Jebbie.”

“You have to share, Lizzie,” her mother corrected gently.

Lizzie V. was well enough behaved to follow her parents’ directions but she quickly instructed her older brother, “Tareful, Nicky.”

Nicky glared down at his little sister, who was getting to be just as bossy as his big brother. “I know,” he retorted and then proudly took the baby that his father handed him. “He’s pretty little, Pappa.”

“He is now, but he’ll grow. Won’t be long before he’ll be wanting to do everything that you do,” Peter predicted.

“And I’ll be the big brother,” Nicky had waited for this forever.

“Yep, you’ll be the big brother,” his father agreed. “Now let me have Jebbie back, and we’ll give Tom a turn.”

Nicky surrendered the baby only after giving it a kiss on the forehead. Peter skillfully shifted the baby down to the patient Tom. Tom took the bundle and quietly studied his new little brother’s face. A big smile slowly lit up his face, “Hello, Jebbie. I’m your big brother Tom. I’m sure glad you’re here. We’ve waited for you a long time.”

“We have, haven’t we, chere,” Samantha reached out to gently rub her eldest’s back.

“He’s gonna have yellow hair like me, isn’t he, Mamma,” Tom had always felt a little left out since both Nicky and Lizzie had dark hair like their mamma. If Jebbie had hair like his, then things would even out.

“I think you’re right, chere,” she agreed. “I think he’s going to have hair just like yours and Pappa’s.”

Peter gave Tom a moment more with the baby, then he directed, “All right, Tom. Let me have Jebbie back. Give your mamma a kiss and then Miss Marie and Senora Carlotta will take you children downstairs for your supper.”

“Yes, sir,” Tom said obediently. He leaned down and kissed the baby and then whispered in its ear, “I’ll ‘member this day forever, Jebbie. Uncle Jarrod said so.”

The children each gave their mother a kiss and then made the rounds of the room for more hugs and kisses. Only then were they shepherded out of the room.

“Well, I guess Aunt Audra would like a chance to hold her new nephew,” Peter offered the baby to his sister.

“Hello there, Jebbie,” Audra cooed at the baby as she took the child and carefully cradled him in her arms. “You are so beautiful, Jebbie.”

“By the way, we have named our child Jedidiah?” Peter turned to stare at his wife.

“No, of course not,” she laughed at him.

“But Jebbie?” he lifted his hands palms up in obvious confusion.

“It’s from his initials,” she replied calmly.

“Initials?” Peter was still lost.

“His name is Jarrod Eugene Heath Barton Barkley,” she grinned proudly. “But we’re going to call him Jebbie and it’s to be spelled J E H B B I E.”

The announcement brought a moment of stunned silence and then a burst of laughter.

“Sam, you can’t pin a name like that on a boy,” Peter scoffed. “He’ll hate it.”

“He’ll love it,” she said confidently, “because he’s named after four of his uncles, whom he’ll always love.”

“Sam,” her husband tried again.

“I’ve chosen, Peter, and the children are already calling him Jehbbie. It’ll be fine.”

“Jehbbie isn’t even a name, Sam. Jed, yes; maybe Jeddy; but not Jehbbie.”

“It’s perfect, Peter,” Samantha refused to be swayed. “We’ve agreed this is to be our last baby. We needed to cover a lot of people.”

Peter sighed and then resigned himself to the rather cumbersome name, “All right. I’m glad you’ve explained it to me. I was trying to think of where the heck this 'Jeb' came from and all I could think of was General Jeb Stuart, which I didn't think you'd do given our family's mixed allegiance in the war, or Jedidiah, the chimneysweeper. That was beginning to worry me”

“Peter Barkley,” his wife gasped.

His mother, who had been standing next to the bed, added her sharp admonishment, “Peter Andrew Barkley, you behave right now.”

“Hey, I was just a little confused was all,” he defended himself. “All she ever talked about was ‘Audra Jocelyn’ and then she comes up with this ‘Jeb’ thing.”

Ever the peacemaker, Jarrod spoke up, “Well, I for one think that ‘Jehbbie,’ short for ‘JARROD Eugene Heath Barton Barkley,’ was an outstanding choice for a name.”

“Hey, you’ll get no complaints from me,” Eugene piped up. “And I have a feeling that Uncle Heath won’t complain either.”

“I’m inclined to agree with you both,” Barton added, deeply touched that Samantha had chosen to already refer to him as one of the uncles and to include his name in her baby’s. “However, I think the emphasis needs to go on the last name in the string, not the first.”

“It’s a perfect name,” Audra agreed as she gently rocked the baby in her arms. “Were you really going to name the baby after me if it had been a girl?”

“Of course, ‘Audra’ after my real sister and ‘Jocelyn’ after my oldest friend who was like a sister to me when we were growing up,” Samantha smiled. “My only problem was coming up with something to call her other than ‘Audra.’ Two ‘Audras’ would have been just too confusing . . . ‘Nicky’ and ‘Nick’ is bad enough with Peter half the time calling his big brother ‘Nicky.’”

“Well, I think ‘Jarrod Eugene Heath Barton Barkley’ is a wonderful name and calling him ‘Jehbbie’ is just perfect. He’s named after all those wonderful people but he has his own name, too, so there’s no favoritism and things won’t be confusing,” Audra pronounced. “It’s a beautiful name.”

“I’ll tell you what’s beautiful,” Jarrod said softly. “It’s our sister-in-law. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so stunning, Samantha.”

Samantha blushed and reached up to finger the simple collar of her nightgown, “I look stunning in a plain cotton nightgown? Oh, please, Jarrod.”

“It’s not what you’re dressed in,” he shook his head. “It’s your face, your smile. You’re glowing, Sam. You look so beautiful.”

“Well, thank you,” she smiled shyly.

Audra now turned to her fiancé, “Your turn, Barton.”

Then man paled, “Oh, I don’t know, Audra, I’ve never held a tiny baby. I don’t want to hurt him.”

“You’re not going to hurt him,” she reassured him as she skillfully transferred the baby to him. “This will be good practice for you. Maybe you won’t look so overwhelmed when I hand you our first child.”

Unable to keep her from depositing the baby in his reluctant arms, Barton gave a short laugh, “Trust me. I’ll look overwhelmed when you hand me our first child; I’ll BE overwhelmed with the first one and every other one.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet,” Audra beamed at him. She could always count on him to say the perfect thing.

“You know, Nicky said Jehbbie was little, but I think he’s a pretty husky little guy. Don’t you think so, Uncle Jarrod?” Barton turned and gingerly handed the bundle off to Jarrod. Holding such a tiny baby was very nerve racking. He didn’t know how Peter made it look so natural.

Jarrod quickly accepted the baby, eager to get a closer look at his newest nephew, a nephew who carried his name. “He’s a good size boy, all right. He’s a lot bigger than our little princess was,” he agreed.

“Well, Lizzie V. was born early,” Peter replied with fatherly authority, “and she’s a girl, so you’d expect her to be smaller. Through my wife’s pure determination, Jehbbie made it full term. He’s about the same size as Tom and Nicky were when they were born.”

“He looks wonderful, Samantha,” Jarrod smiled gently at his sister-in-law, wondering if she realized how proud they all were of her, of what she had accomplished. He now turned to Christiana who was standing beside him, her eyes focused on the baby. “Your turn, Christiana.”

“Oh, no,” she looked up at him. “I’m not family.”

It was Samantha who quickly countered the argument, “Oh, heavens, Christiana, you’ve been part of this from almost the beginning. Don’t you want a closer look at the little man who has had such a big impact on all our lives over the past few months?”

“Well, all right,” Christiana replied hesitantly. She carefully took the bundle from Jarrod, biting her lip and adjusting her hold so that she skillfully balanced the baby in her left arm and used her right hand to ease back the blanket that swaddled the baby. “Oh, Samantha, he’s so perfect. His tiny little fingers, perfect down to the teensy fingernails, and that cute button of a nose.” She leaned down to press her cheek against the downy head and closed her eyes as she breathed in the new baby smell. She knew there were tears in her eyes when she raised her head and she forced her voice to be light, “Well, I guess now it’s Uncle Gene’s turn.”

Gene came from the foot of the bed to take the baby, “Well, to tell you the truth I’ve already had a turn. Right after Dr. Vanders and Mother. I’m the one who got to hand Samantha her new son.”

“Show off,” Peter growled.

Gene ignored his brother’s continued grumpiness, “And, Jarrod, I have to agree with you that Sam is beautiful; she’s also incredible. You wouldn’t believe how strong and brave she was. It was just incredible what she did.”

“Gene,” Samantha laughed softly, “women have babies every day.”

“Well, I’m sure not all of them do it as great as you did,” he said confidently.

“Samantha did do wonderful,” Victoria, who had been standing on the far side of the bed enjoying the family’s reaction to little Jehbbie and monitoring her daughter-in-law, finally entered into the conversation. “But it was a lot of hard work for her and we need to let her get some rest. Now that you all have had a chance to meet little Jehbbie, I think we should give the baby back to his parents and leave the room so Samantha can get some sleep.”

“Oh, Victoria,” Samantha protested, “I’m too excited to sleep.”

“I know, dear, but you know you need to rest. I imagine that if we chase everyone out and lower the light a little, you’ll be able to sleep a little bit,” her mother-in-law was trying not to be overbearing but she was obviously not going to be dissuaded. “You know, Jehbbie is going to be hungry in just a few hours. You need to rest while he’s sleeping. Gene, why don’t you put the baby in his cradle?”

“Oh, let me have him in bed with me,” Samantha tried again.

“No,” it was Peter who drew the line this time. “I know you; you’ll lie there checking him over again and again. Gene, let me have him. Sam, honey, Mother’s right. You need to see if you can’t sleep for a little while.”

“All right, all right,” she grumbled but then smiled at Victoria as her mother-in-law removed the pillows that had been propping her up and carefully pulled the bedcovers up to her shoulders and then kissed her cheek.

“You rest for a bit, darling,” Victoria whispered. “When you wake up, you can have something to eat. I know you’ll be starving. You haven’t eaten all day.”

Gene had surrendered the baby to Peter. He now leaned down and brushed Samantha’s cheek with a soft kiss, “I’ve got to get back across the bay, Sam. I’ve got an exam tomorrow I need to study for. Thank you so much for letting me be here. It was an incredible experience; I’ll never forget it.”

“My pleasure,” she smiled up at him, but her eyes were beginning to droop a little.

Jarrod also slipped over to kiss his sister-in-law, “Thank you so much for the new little nephew and I can’t tell you how proud you made me by including my name in his rather impressive moniker. I have to go back to Sacramento tomorrow, and I don’t know when I’ll be able to get back to San Francisco. Don’t let him grow too much before I get back.”

“I have no control over that, Jarrod,” she warned, her voice soft and edged with sleep. “You’ll just need to hurry back.”

“Well, thanks for arranging to have him while I was here,” he teased. Then he patted his brother’s shoulder, “Take care of them, Peter.”

“I will,” his little brother promised.

Christiana leaned down to press her cheek to Samantha’s, promising she’d be by in a few days to check on the whole family. Audra told her sister-in-law that she would ensure that the other children ate their supper and then would get them ready for bed. When Peter and Samantha were ready, she’d bring them in to see the baby again and to say their prayers. And with that, the family slipped from the room. Jarrod was the last to leave. He turned to pull the door closed behind him. He hesitated for a moment, enjoying the heart-warming scene – Mother quietly pulling down the window shades and straightening the room; Peter gently rocking back and forth, his blue eyes soft as he looked down at the child cradled in his arms; and Samantha, curled in the bed, her eyes growing heavy, smiling softly at her husband and new baby even as she began to doze off. It was a moment that Jarrod knew he would cherish. Like little Tom, he would remember this day forever.

Chapter 34

Jarrod had never seen Christiana quite so ebullient. They had stayed at Peter and Samantha’s long enough to help feed the Barkley children their supper. He had then managed to convince her that he owed her a dinner since she had fed him lunch. Laughing that she was getting the better end of the deal, Christiana had agreed to the outing. First, however, Jarrod stopped at the telegraph office to send Peter’s quickly penned message to Nick and Heath: “Boy stop handsome as his pappa stop mother and baby doing great stop.”

“That’s a pretty short message,” Christiana peeked at the tablet.

“That’s what Peter wanted sent,” Jarrod just shrugged.

“Well, it doesn’t even tell them the baby’s name,” she protested.

“I know,” he smiled at her.

“Shouldn’t you at least add that?”

“No, I’m going to send just what Pete asked me to send,” he said patiently.

“Well, they’re going to wonder.”

“I’m sure they will,” Jarrod calmly agreed as he handed the sheet of paper to the telegraph operator and then paid for the 10-word message.

“They’ll have to wait for a letter to find out?” Christiana pressed.

“I suppose . . . or they might be curious enough that one or both of them will get on a train and come see the baby,” he finally verbalized his speculation on the reason behind Peter’s very short telegram.

“Oh,” she smiled now, “I see. Just Peter’s way to try to get his rancher brothers to make a trip to San Francisco.”

He nodded and took her elbow to guide her down the street toward a particularly nice restaurant he had enjoyed in the past. He hazarded to add, “I’m sure Heath will come . . . I don’t know about Nick.”

“Still problems between them?” Christiana instantly regretted her comment. She had no business sticking her nose into the Barkley family’s personal affairs . . . even though Samantha had confided in her about the hard feelings between Peter and Nick.

But her comment did not seem to bother Jarrod. He was obviously much more concerned with the gulf between his two younger brothers. “I don’t know if you would call them problems . . . they just haven’t seemed to have found a way to bridge all the years that Peter was gone. The rest of us have accepted the past and have moved on, enjoying what we have now. I think Nick, because he was the one closest to Pete, well, I think he feels personally betrayed . . . because Pete didn’t talk with him before he left and because he never tried to get in touch with him later.”

“Samantha says that Peter feels guilty about it, but he doesn’t know how to make amends. I think he believed that when he explained why he stayed away that would help things,” she allowed him to guide her into the very posh restaurant. As she struggled to keep her expression neutral, she quickly assessed that this eating establishment was several rungs up the ladder from the places he had taken her for lunch. She very much felt under-dressed for this particular establishment, but Jarrod didn’t seem to be the least concerned. Of course, he always looked so polished.

“Peter’s explanation did help, but Nick is still struggling. I’m hoping that in time . . . ,” he nodded to the maitre d who immediately showed them to a well-placed table.

As she carefully sat down in the chair that the maitre d held for her, she offered, “Time heals all wounds?”

“Perhaps, or at least takes a good bit of the sting out,” he nodded at her. “To tell you the truth, I’m almost willing to bet that the new baby will be just the thing to get Nick to come to Frisco.”

“He does love the little ones, doesn’t he?” she agreed as she took the menu card.

Jarrod reflected on her words for a moment and then softly replied, “Peter said something interesting some time back. He said something to the effect that beneath Nick’s big, brash cowboy exterior there beats the tender heart of an Irish poet. Family is everything to Nick.”

“And that’s why Peter’s leaving and his long absence hurt Nick so much,” she added.

“Yes, I think you’re right,” he smiled at her and then changed the subject. “I’ve eaten here a number of times and have enjoyed each entre that I’ve had. Would you care to hear my recommendations?”

She glanced around the restaurant and back at the menu. She hadn’t eaten at any place this nice since she was a girl, living at home with her parents. She and Allen may have eaten at a few pricier places very early in their marriage but, in general, their money had been spent to finance their travels not on expensive meals. She should have felt guilty about allowing so much money to be spent on just food, but this was a treat. It had been an incredible day, and they deserved a treat. And, while she ordinarily wanted to reinforce her image as an independent woman, today she wanted to be pampered just a little.

“Would you just order for me?” her soft brown eyes looked directly into his brilliant blue ones. “Whatever you choose will be wonderful, I’m sure. I’m feeling very lazy; I just don’t want to have to make a single decision right this moment.”

He seemed a little surprised at her response, “Are you sure?” When she just smiled and nodded at him, he inclined his head in deference to her wishes, “Well, let me see if I can’t choose something particularly special for us tonight. We do have a good bit to celebrate don’t we. I think we should start with some champagne.”

Just as she had predicted, the meal was wonderful. They laughed and talked, toasted the health of young master JARROD Eugene Heath Barton Barkley and the beauty and strength of his mother, sampled each other’s entre, and complimented the chef on the fine food. They did not hurry, lingering over dessert and coffee as the restaurant slowly emptied. Finally, Jarrod paid the bill, helped Christiana with her shawl, and then offered her his arm.

As they walked down the street, toward the hack stand, she hesitantly asked, “You know, it’s not that many blocks to my shop. Do you suppose we could just walk this evening? I’m usually rushing from one place to the next. I would love to just stroll down the street and enjoy the sights and sounds.”

His sparkling blue eyes held just the hint of a question in them as he looked down at her uplifted face but all he said was “That sounds wonderful.”

Christiana suddenly felt guilty; she was selfishly delaying his departure. She knew that it would probably be months before she saw him again and she just wanted to prolong this evening. But that was being selfish; Jarrod had already spent the better part of the day with her. He surely needed to prepare for his trip tomorrow. “I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I wasn’t thinking. You’ve got things to do. There’s no need for you to waste time walking me home. We can take a hack.”

“Shhh,” he brought a finger up to touch her lips. “There is nothing I’d rather do right now than stroll home with you and enjoy the sights and sounds of the city. I’m going to be away from this beautiful city for too many weeks, I’m afraid, but walking its streets with such a lovely companion will help keep the memories fresh. Come on, Christiana, walk with me.”

She blushed slightly and reluctantly fell into step with him. When he asked if she minded if he smoked a cigar, she shook her head and then leaned closer to sniff the rich, almost sweet aroma that circled his head. She knew that that smell would help her hold onto the memory of this evening. He then asked her about what she saw when she walked the streets, and her photographer’s eye came alive. She began to point out scenes and sights that she would have turned her lens on had she been carrying her camera. He found himself enjoying the city in a whole new way as he saw it through her artist’s eye. Too soon they were at her shop and she was drawing out her key and handing it to him. Jarrod forced himself not to sigh as he opened the door and ushered her in. He handed her the key and then signaled toward the stairway with his eyes.

Christiana laughed softly, “I know, I know. I need to go upstairs to make sure everything is safe and secure. You’re not going to leave until I do.”

“That’s right,” he said with mock sternness.

She lit the oil lamp she kept at the foot of the stairs and lifted her skirt to start up. Suddenly she turned around and hesitantly offered, “I have a bottle of brandy upstairs that a customer gave me a while back. Would you like to have a nightcap before you leave?”

He caught his breath and let it out slowly, “I would like that very much.”

“Why don’t you come up with me? It’s not much but it’s more comfortable than down here.” She knew there was nothing ‘proper’ about inviting a man up to her private rooms, but this was Jarrod . . . and she selfishly wanted to spend just a few more minutes with him before he had to leave.

His sharp blue eyes studied her for a moment and then he smiled and nodded, “That sounds nice. To be safe, why don’t you let me have the key back and I’ll lock up.”

She surrendered the key to him and started up the stairs but waited for him to join her so that her lamp would light the way for him. Nervously, she opened the door to her small living quarters. She knew they were miniscule compared to the Barkley mansion . . . probably compared to Jarrod’s townhouse here in San Francisco, too, but she was proud of the home that she was providing herself. Sitting the lamp on a table in the center of the room, she adjusted the wick to give off the maximum light. She laid her shawl over the back of one of her “parlor” chairs and stepped into her alcove of a kitchen to fetch the bottle of brandy and two glasses from the cupboard.

She relaxed a little as she saw Jarrod just looking around and smiling. He had placed his hat on the table and had stepped closer to one of the walls to study one of the many prints that she had hanging. “Your drink, sir,” she interrupted his perusal.

“Ah, thank you,” he accepted the glass she passed to him and took a sip.

“Is it all right?” she asked anxiously. “I’ve never tried it.”

“Very good,” he took another sip. “Your customer gave you a bottle of excellent brandy.”

“Well, I took excellent pictures of his children,” she raised her glass to her lip and took a tiny sip. The smooth liquor spread warmth all down her throat.

“I’m sure you did,” Jarrod replied. “You’re an excellent photographer.”

“Hmm, maybe not excellent but pretty good,” she said modestly.

“No, you’re excellent,” he corrected. “You are an artist, you have an incredible natural talent and you have an impressive set of photography skills. I’ve never seen a photographer who could do what you can . . . how you capture the essence of whatever your photographing.”

“Jarrod,” she blushed. “You’re embarrassing me. I’m not an artist; I’m just a journeyman photographer who’s happy to be able to earn a decent living with my skills.”

“I’m only stating what I see,” Jarrod said earnestly. “You have a great talent . . . and I’m honored that I’ve had an opportunity to experience it.”

She started to protest again but then allowed herself, for once, just to accept the compliment, “Thank you, Jarrod.”

“And thank you,” he replied. When she raised her eyebrows in honest confusion by his statement, he added, “Thank you for the wonderful day.”

Christiana ducked her head and then shook it, “Hmm, I think your sister-in-law made it a wonderful day. I’m just happy that I got to be a spectator to such a special day for the Barkley family.”

His voice was low and warm, as warm as the brandy that slid down her throat, “The day was wonderful because it turned out just the way I hoped. Jehbbie was an added bonus, but the main thing was that I got to spend it with you.”

She looked up quickly and found herself falling into those deep blue eyes. She struggled to whisper, “It’s been such a wonderful day that I just hate for it to end.”

Jarrod’s voice was stronger, emoting that self-assurance she identified as being part of his persona, “I don’t want it to end either.” And he stepped forward and drew her into his arms. This kiss he gave her, this was the kiss that she had imagined this afternoon, and it stole her breath away and left her knees shaking. When a soft moan rose up from somewhere deep inside of her and she trembled in his arms, Jarrod released her lips and whispered, “Am I frightening you?”

“No,” her laugh was low. “You could never frighten me, Jarrod.” And she rose on her toes to press her lips against his again. This time she took control of the kiss and it stirred him so that when her mouth slid away from his, he crushed her to him and bent his head to press kisses up and down her slender neck.

“Oh, Christiana,” he murmured between the kisses, letting his hands stroke her back and shoulders.

“Jarrod,” she whispered against his chest.

“Hmm?”

“Please don’t go.”

“What?” he wasn’t sure what she was asking – to not go to Sacramento tomorrow or . . . .

“Don’t go. Please stay tonight.”

“Are you sure?” he whispered, understanding now exactly what she was saying, what she was offering.

She lifted her head from his chest and looked up at him. Her smile was soft but her brown eyes sparkled in the lamplight, “Yes. I’m sure.”

He looked into her eyes, could see the need there. He knew he could fill that need, that feeling of emptiness inside of her . . . and inside himself, if just for this night . . . but was that right? His hand came up to cup her cheek and his eyes searched her face, looking for something, something that would give him permission to act on the feelings he had been experiencing for weeks, for months, the need that had been growing inside of him.

She saw the indecision in his eyes, the concern, and it touched her so, “Don’t worry, Jarrod. I’ve been a married woman; I know exactly what I’m saying. And, no, you haven’t gotten me drunk on champagne and brandy and taken advantage of me. I just, I just want to . . . well, I know I’m not going to see you for such a long time and I just, I just want the wonderful day to go on for just a bit longer and I want to share something with you . . . something just between you and me. I want to be close to you, Jarrod.”

She rose on her toes again to press her lips to his and this time his response was immediate. He deepened the kiss, tasting her, drawing her breath out and replacing it with his own. When she trembled again, he reached down and swept her up in his arms. After looking deep into her eyes one more time, he carried her through the doorway into her small bedroom.

Much later, when they both were breathing normally again, when their hearts had slowed to a more comfortable rhythm, Jarrod drew Christiana to his side and pulled the bed linens up to cover them both.

“Are you all right?” he whispered against her hair.

“Mmm,” she murmured.

Hesitantly, he asked, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Of course not,” she smiled to herself, but then raised up to look down at his face and add, “Jarrod, you know I was married. I’m not a virgin; this isn’t my first time.”

His finger traced the contour of her cheek. “It was our first time,” he said gently. “You were a virgin to me.”

Christiana couldn’t stop the blush that rushed into her cheeks and she dropped her head back to his shoulder.

It was several minutes before Jarrod asked, “Are you comfortable?”

“Uh huh.”

“Warm enough?”

“Uh huh,” she repeated but was secretly pleased when he still drew the covers up higher and tucked them more securely around her.

“Christiana?”

“Hmmm?”

“Christiana, I have to go to Sacramento tomorrow.”

“I know that,” she said softly. “I knew that when I asked you to stay. I’ve known that all week, Jarrod. Don’t feel guilty that you have to go. I understand.”

As much as he hated the idea, he forced himself to murmur, “I guess, if I don’t want to scandalize your neighbors, I should think about getting dressed and leaving soon.”

Christiana gave a very unladylike snort, “If my neighbors have their windows up, they should greet you by your first name given how many times I shouted it.” Immediately embarrassed by her very brazen comment, she pressed her red face into Jarrod’s shoulder.

Jarrod, however, just laughed softly, “Do you have any idea how arousing that is? To have your name called out in just that way?”

“No,” she said in a shaky voice, now mortified at her statement. Heavens, she had never acted like this before, spoken about something so intimate. What had come over her? Samantha! That was it. All the time she had spent with Samantha had loosened her tongue up! This was all Samantha’s fault.

But Jarrod’s voice was deep and reassuring, “To have the woman you’re with say your name that way, with such abandon. To know you’re pleasuring her, that you are the only one she’s thinking of at that moment. Ahh, it is an incredible feeling.”

She was surprised at his admission and she was more surprised when teasing words just came tumbling out of her mouth, “So, it would have been a bad thing if I had said Allen’s name.”

Oh, my gosh, she thought. Where did that come from? How could she be so flippant? Samantha again!

But his chuckle shook his chest and he pretended to take offense, “Yes, that would have been a very rude thing to do, young lady.”

It was several minutes before she spoke again and then it was a whisper against his chest, a confession of sorts, “It was never that way for me with Allen, Jarrod.”

He started slightly and reached a hand up to tilt her face to his, “What?”

Christiana swallowed hard, “It was never that way before . . . I never had those feelings before.”

“Ohhh,” he drew the word out, not sure of what to say.

“All the times that Samantha would tease Audra about what her wedding night was going to be like and then smirk at me, I would just pretend that I knew what she was talking about. But it was never that way. Not until now did I understand what Samantha meant when she predicted that Barton would curl Audra’s toes.”

“Curl her toes?”

“Uh-huh, and now I understand exactly what she meant,” she sighed and snuggled against him.

For several minutes he just continued to hold her close to him and to rub her bare shoulder with his hand. He eased himself away from her just a little and slid down in the bed until they were face to face. The glow from the gaslights on the street illuminated the room just enough so that he could make out her features. She was frowning at him, unsure what this change in their positions meant. And she looked a little afraid, perhaps afraid that her honest statement was going to push him a way. To ease her feelings he leaned forward and brushed her lips gently with his.

“So I curled your toes?” punctuated with a longer, deeper kiss.

“Uh-huh,” she grinned at him shamelessly and then fell into the next kiss. His lips and tongue were so skillful was all she managed to think before her feelings simply took over and she found herself again trembling against him. She was disappointed when he pulled back, fearing that his next words were that he was going to have to leave so that he would be able to make his train.

She was stunned when, instead, Jarrod used his teeth and tongue to tease that place where her neck met her shoulder and whispered, “Well, why don’t I see if I can’t curl your toes again.”

She gasped as his hands began to roam over her more tender parts, “Again? Twice in a night. Allen never . . . .”

His teeth gently nipped her shoulder, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist that you not think of Allen just now.” He rose up to kiss her mouth again, a kiss that left her trembling and moaning.

When he pulled back once again to look down into those liquid brown eyes, she ran her fingers through his hair and whispered, “There’s no worry about that.” And she drew his head back down to hers.

This time, because he had already satisfied his initial need, he moved more slowly, bringing her to her peak time and again until finally his own need could not be ignored. This time, afterwards, they both dozed. He didn’t know who woke first but he knew when he woke it was to such a feeling of contentment. With Christiana wrapped in his arms, curled at his side, her small hand resting lightly on his chest, he felt so at ease . . . and so happy. He raised his hand and laid it gently over hers, curling his fingers around hers.

“Jarrod?” she whispered.

“Hmm?”

“Are you awake?”

“Just barely, sweet lady,” he murmured.

“Jarrod, tell me about Beth,” she felt him tense and then take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

It was a reasonable question, he knew. He owed her this honesty. For some reason, he felt the need to start at the beginning. It was such a short story, the beginning was not so far back. “I had gone to Washington, to sit in on some water-rights hearings. There were some rumblings about making this a national issue, but, we, of course, feel each state must set what’s right for it. I went to listen and lobby . . . and I just wanted to get out of San Francisco for a bit, away from California for a time,” he admitted, thinking of Vivian Pritchard. “On the train ride back, I met Beth. She was travelling to Denver; she had secured a position to teach at a girls’ school there. The first time I saw her I just knew. We spent four days travelling together, talking about our lives. When we reached Denver, I promised her I would see her again, that I would write her every day. I let her get off the train but then decided I couldn’t be away from her. So I got off, too. I spent the next week wooing her. We were married in Denver and I took her home to Stockton. We were there only two days and she was killed.”

She let him have a few moments to gather himself and then she pressed, “How was she killed, Jarrod?”

His voice was flat and far away, “A man I had convicted years before, a man who later got a pardon, he was seeking revenge against me. He shot at me and hit her. She died instantly.”

“Oh, Jarrod,” Christiana voice cracked. “I’m so sorry.” She slid her arms around him and hugged him tightly, wanting to take the hurt away. For a time she just lay with her arms around him and her head resting on his chest, then she felt his arms tighten around her and the softest of kisses placed on her hair. Now she dared to ask for more, “Jarrod, tell me what she was like.”

When he didn’t immediately respond, she thought she had pushed too hard, had pushed him away from her, but then his voice came, soft and melodic, “She was small, beautiful, delicate, almost like a porcelain doll. She had a laugh that could fill my heart. She loved life. One of the last things she said to me is that she wanted to build our house without a roof so that we wouldn’t shut out all the sky. When she died, it was like all the light went out of my life. It has taken me a long time to be able to look ahead, to think about the future without falling into the trap of imaging my life if she hadn’t been killed.”

“The what-ifs, the if-onlys,” she understood completely. “We try to move away from them, but they’re always there, teasing us, leaving us wondering, leaving us hurting. Asking ourselves why it can’t just be a bad dream. That if we could just wake up then everything would be all right, then everything would be the way we planned.”

For a time, they lay curled in each other’s arms. Jarrod slowly let the memories of Beth be replaced by the very real presence of Christiana. He tightened his hold on her and rested his cheek on her hair. He felt her adjust her position so that she was curved more closely against him and her small hand gently rubbed his chest.

Now it was his turn for questions about former loves, “Tell me about Allen.”

She had been prepared for the request and she answered quickly, “I’ve already told you all there is to tell. I met him when I was 16, was infatuated with him; we married when I was 18; we traveled and photographed together until Allen got sick; he died four years ago.”

“Where did he die?”

“Phoenix.”

“And then you came to San Francisco?”

“After a few years in Phoenix trying to scrape out a living, I decided I needed to go to a bigger city. We had always talked about going to San Francisco,” Christiana shrugged her shoulders. “I decided it was as good a destination as any.”

“I’m surprised there wasn’t someone in Phoenix to keep you there. A frontier town like that; there’s always a dearth of beautiful women. Generally, a woman doesn’t stay a widow long,” he knew he was being intrusive but he wanted to understand her feelings, what had brought her to be with him, here and now.

“I haven’t really been interested in having someone else in my life” she left off the ‘until now.’

“It’s because Allen hurt you,” his voice was gentle but it challenged her for a response.

She pretended she didn’t understand what he meant, “Of course, Allen’s death hurt me.”

“No,” he was firm, “I meant he hurt you before he died. I know; I heard it in your voice when you told me that it hurt to be confronted by your husband’s past loves. That happened to you, didn’t it.”

She didn’t respond for several moments and she kept her face pressed against his chest as she explained, “It was about three years after we had married. We were in Kansas City. We had just come in out of the field from photographing workers on the railroad. It was a wonderful experience, but we, of course, were tired and dirty when we arrived in the city. All I was thinking of was how wonderful a nice hot bath and soft bed would be. We were walking down the street, toward the hotel, when I suddenly realized that Allen wasn’t with me anymore. I turned around and saw him standing on the sidewalk, just staring at a woman across the street. She was walking down the boardwalk with two children, a little girl and a little boy, holding her hands. She was laughing and talking with them; she was dressed in this beautiful dress. Allen walked across the street to greet her. It was like he had forgotten me; I didn’t know what to do so I just stood there and watched them. She seemed surprised to see him but then she was courteous and chatted with him and introduced her children. I kept thinking she looked familiar, but I couldn’t place her. She started to take her leave and Allen put a hand on her arm to stop her. I remember she looked so sympathetic when she leaned forward and brushed his cheek with a kiss. He tried to embrace her but she pulled away and took her children’s hands and went on down the street. Allen just stood there and watched her.”

Christiana drew a shuddering breath and struggled to control herself. She had never told anyone, not even Samantha, this story. She felt Jarrod’s gentle kiss on her forehead and she forced herself to finish it, “I didn’t know what to do. It was like he was in shock. I went across the street and touched his arm. He just looked down at me with the strangest expression. I asked him who the woman was but he just ignored me. We went on down to the hotel and unpacked and cleaned up. I wanted to go out to dinner, but he just had food sent up to the room – food and a bottle. He ate little and drank much. Late in evening, I asked him again who the woman was and this time he told me very tersely that that was Ruth, that he had asked her once to marry him, and that she had rejected him and married another. I knew then, by the way he was acting, that he had never gotten over her. It wasn’t until later, when I was in front of the mirror the next morning putting my hair up, that I realized whom she reminded me of. Oh, Jarrod, she could have been my older sister. He didn’t marry me because he loved me. He married me because I reminded him of Ruth.” And the sobs broke through then.

Jarrod held her against him, using his voice and his hands to try to sooth her, all the time silently cursing a man who was dead.

Chapter 35

“Adam,” Hester gently chided her cousin’s son, “calm down.”

“But I wants to see Tom and Nicky’s new brudder,” the little boy tugged at her hand to try to hurry her down the walk to the front door.

“And you will get to see him, but there’s no reason to rush. The baby isn’t going anywhere,” she shook her head.

“But he might,” the little boy stopped and looked up into her face. “My sissy went away.”

Her heart broke for him; he had been through so much for such a little boy. She knelt down in front of the child and gently cupped his face in her palm, “Oh, darling, your little sister and your mama were sick. The only way they were going to feel better was to be with God. Tom and Nicky’s mother and brother are just fine. Miss Audra’s note to us said all went wonderfully yesterday when the baby was born. She wouldn’t have invited us to visit today if there were any problems.”

“You’re sure?” Adam frowned at her.

“I’m sure, darling,” she said firmly.

He studied her face closely for several moments and then grinned, “I still wanna see the new brudder.” He tugged on her hand.

Hester rose to her feet again and allowed the little boy to pull her down the walk, laughing all the way. It was a wonderful day, she thought. Samantha had done the impossible; she had carried her baby to full term and then delivered it safely. She was still laughing when both she and Adam knocked on the large oak door that marked the entrance to the Barkleys’ home. As the door swung open, she heard the voices of little Tom and Nicky . . . and she looked straight into the face of Nick Barkley.

It was a tossup as to who was more surprised. Hester’s laugh died in her throat and her eyes widened in shock. She had never expected Nick Barkley to be here the day after his nephew’s birth . . . perhaps this weekend but not in the middle of the week. And, obviously, Nick was just as stunned as he stared down at her, his mouth hanging open.

It was Heath Barkley’s soft drawl that filled in the awkward silence, “Well, hey there, Adam and Hester. Come to see the new little Barkley?”

Adam dashed past the big, dark-haired man who was holding the door open to Tom and Nicky’s nice Uncle Heath. “Yeth, sir,” the little boy grinned up at the smiling man.

“Well, I tell you, me and Tom and Nicky were going out to play for just a bit. You wanna come with us for now and you can go up to see the baby later?”

“Yeah, come play,” Nicky urged.

“We’re going out to the treehouse with Uncle Heath and Uncle Nick,” Tom added.

The opportunity to go out and play with Tom and Nicky and their uncle quickly overrode Adam’s desire to see a new baby. He could see the baby later . . . his auntie had said that the baby wasn’t going anywhere. “Yeah,” he shouted.

“Well, let’s go then, boys,” Heath put his arms out to herd the three little boys toward the back of the house.

“Ain’t you comin’, Uncle Nick?” Nicky turned back to address his uncle.

“I’ll be out in a minute, boys,” Nick’s voice was tightly controlled. His eyes went to his younger brother’s face. Heath just gave him a small lopsided smile and reached out to pat Nicky’s head and urge him on along. Nick turned back to look down into the face of the woman who was still frozen just inside the door. He might have been shocked but his brain was still working fine. So Hester was the wonderful “auntie” who had put her life on hold to take care of a poor motherless boy, the woman who had been such a good friend to Sam over the last few months. The woman who right now looked like a rabbit he’d caught in the sights of his rifle. There was no reason for her to be afraid. “Hello, Hester. Come to see the new baby?”

She opened her mouth and closed it twice before she was able to murmur, “Hello, Nick. Yes, Audra had sent me a note that the baby had arrived and all was well and invited us to visit today.”

Nick’s eyes narrowed slightly and his lips twitched, “Did she now?” Of course, the whole family knew who Adam’s aunt was. Interesting none of them had shared her identity with him. He would have to have a little discussion with them all about that.

Hester was afraid that he was going to take issue with her right to see the baby, to even be in his brother’s home, but before Nick could comment further, Audra’s voice drifted down from the second floor, “Oh, Hester, good, you’re here. Samantha will be so pleased. She’s having great fun showing off her new son.” The young woman came down the stairs and pressed her cheek against Hester’s, totally ignoring her brother who shifted his stance to cross his arms across his chest. “Here, let me have your hat and cape.”

“Um, thank you,” obviously Hester was unnerved. “Perhaps, Audra,” and she glanced nervously up at Nick’s expressionless face, “perhaps, this isn’t a good time.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Hester,” Audra waved her hand, pretending to be oblivious to any reason that Hester might be uncomfortable. “You’re here right when I invited you and Samantha is looking forward to seeing you. Some people,” she turned her eyes on her older brother, “turn up with no warning whatsoever.”

“Hey, it was Heath’s idea,” Nick defended himself.

“Which you went along with immediately,” Audra teased him back, knowing full well that her older brother had been the first on the early morning train out of Stockton. Since he and Heath had surprised everyone by showing up on the doorstep before lunch, he’d been up and held the new baby half a dozen times.

“Well, I needed to check out our new nephew, see if there’s any hope of turning him into a cattleman,” despite the strained circumstances he grinned at his little sister. Nothing could dampen the joy he was feeling at Samantha’s accomplishment . . . nothing.

“I think his pappa will have something to say about that,” Audra wrinkled her nose at her older brother. “Hester, why don’t you go on up to see Samantha? I think Peter is about ready to go into the bank for a few hours; Samantha will enjoy the company.”

“Are you sure?” Hester tried not to appear wary but she just wasn’t sure how Nick felt about her even being in the house.

“Of course,” Audra smiled at her. “Go on. I’m on the way to the kitchen to talk to Carlotta about supper. We would love for Adam to stay and have supper with the children.”

“I don’t think we’ll be staying that long,” Hester was aghast that Audra seemed totally oblivious to the tension.

“All right,” the girl said cheerily and headed toward the back of the house.

Nick studied Hester for a moment and then gestured toward the staircase with an open palm, “Would you like to go up now?”

“Um, yes,” she fumbled and then started up the stairs.

To her consternation, Nick followed, walking silently beside her for a few moments, and then he spoke softly, “I’m just now realizing who the young Adam I’ve heard so much about is and that it must be your cousin Marietta who, um, who passed away. I’m very sorry. I know you two were very close.”

She hesitated and found herself looking up into those gentle hazel eyes that had once captured her heart. “Thank you,” was all she managed to say.

“How’s Bill doing?” he asked, honest concern evident.

Hester was surprised that he remembered either her cousin or her cousin’s husband. He had met Marietta and Bill only a few times during their four-day long whirlwind courtship four years before. “He’s struggling,” she said carefully.

“I would guess so,” he murmured. “It would be a hard thing to lose your wife and child.”

She nodded and then found herself confiding in him, “He’s thrown himself into his work and he’s pushed Adam away. I just felt that Adam had to have someone in his life to count on . . . that’s why I’ve stayed.”

“The family says you’re doing a great job with Adam,” Nick told her. He found it interesting the way she seemed surprised at the statement and, then, a little proud. He added, “I just realized that I’ve met Adam before . . . when he was a tiny baby . . . one day when I was picking you up at Bill and Marietta’s.”

“Yes, I had come to San Francisco to see Marietta’s baby when I met you,” she said it calmly, like it was a part of an everyday conversation. She had almost ruined Nick’s life and now they were having a calm conversation about those days.

Nick just nodded and said, “Adam sure has grown since then. They sure grow fast.” He then knocked on Peter and Samantha’s bedroom door and called out, “Hey, Sam, are you decent?”

Hester couldn’t stop herself from laughing at him. There was no one quite like Nick Barkley. Amazingly, he smiled down at her as they heard Samantha’s voice through the door, “I’m always decent, Nick Barkley, I’m a lady. However, if you’re asking if I’m properly attired to receive visitors then the answer is ‘yes.’”

“Good,” Nick pushed the door open and ushered Hester in, “then you’ve got a visitor.”

“Oh, Hester,” Samantha was propped up in her bed, looking rested and very happy . . . the best that Hester had ever seen her. “I’m so glad you came.”

“Samantha,” Hester glided across the room and leaned down to press her cheek against her friend’s. “I’m so happy for you. I’m so glad that everything is all right.” She pressed a wrapped package into Samantha’s hands. “Here’s a little something for the baby.”

“Hester, how thoughtful,” Samantha reached up to hug the other woman.

She shrugged and said modestly, “It’s nothing much.”

Samantha quickly pulled back the paper that surrounded the gift and gasped, “Oh, Hester, how sweet.” She carefully picked up a tiny cap and jacket. “Oh, and look, booties, too. Look, Peter, aren’t these sweet.”

Peter stepped over from the washstand where he had been buttoning the collar of his dress shirt. He dutifully surveyed the baby cap, jacket, and booties; raised one eyebrow; and very carefully enunciated, “Sweet.”

Samantha rolled her eyes at her husband’s obvious failure to understand the significance of the gift. She started to apologize for his lack of enthusiasm when her mother-in-law came into the room leading a tiny Lizzie V.

“Hester, what a wonderful surprise,” Victoria cheerily greeted the young woman and just smiled at the slightly disgruntled look that Nick gave her. She knew he was aggravated that no one had told him about Hester, but she also suspected he wouldn’t say anything in front of either Hester or Samantha.

“Look what Hester brought the baby,” Samantha excitedly displayed the gift.

“Hester, how sweet,” Victoria came up to the bed to admire the gift. “Oh, these are so darling. Did you crochet these yourself?”

Hester smiled proudly, “I did. I’ve taken up doing crochet in the evenings after Adam goes to bed. It’s good to have something to do.”

“They’re just beautiful,” Victoria fingered the delicate garments. She had noticed the surprised look that flew across Nick’s face at Hester’s statement. Of course, Nick remembered a young woman who wanted only to dance and party all night.

“I’ve never been able to crochet well,” Samantha confessed. “Jocelyn’s mother tried to teach me when I was little. I do much better with knitting.”

“Well, I prefer embroidery and needlepoint,” Victoria smiled. “Of course, it’s not as practical as either knitting or crocheting.”

“But our Lizzie V. gets a lot of beautiful dresses,” Samantha smiled down at her little daughter who was standing beside the cradle, studying her little brother.

The little girl responded to hearing her name by announcing, “My baby.”

Hester understood immediately, “Yes, I see your baby brother. He’s beautiful, isn’t he.”

“My Jehbbie,” Lizzie V. nodded seriously.

“Jebbie, huh,” Hester bent down to kiss the little girl’s cheek and to get a better look at the baby who lay in the cradle.

“My Jehbbie,” Lizzie V. repeated and placed a gentle hand on her baby brother’s arm. “Soft.”

Hester reached out to stroke the little arm with one finger, “Yes, he’s very soft.”

“Well,” Victoria reached down to take Lizzie’s hand, “we just stopped by to say hello on our way downstairs. Lizzie V. and I are going down to the kitchen to see what we can find to have a snack at our tea party.”

“Sounds like fun,” Samantha smiled. “Thank you for entertaining Lizzie V., Victoria. It so helps to ease the ‘new baby’ into the routine.”

“Oh, you know, I’ll always have time to have tea with my favorite little girl,” the happy grandmother laughed as she led the little girl toward the door. “Now, let’s go, Lizzie V. Hester, it’s good to see you again, dear. And thank you so much for the beautiful gift. It was so thoughtful of you. Enjoy your visit with Samantha and Jehbbie.”

“Thank you, Victoria,” Hester continued to kneel beside the cradle as Victoria and Lizzie V. left the room. She hoped that Nick might leave with his mother, but the hazel-eyed rancher just continued to stand silently to the side. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Instead she focused on the baby sleeping in the cradle.

“Would you like to hold him?” Samantha offered.

“Are you sure?” the other young woman’s eyes rounded. “I mean, he’s sleeping. I’d hate to wake him.”

“You won’t,” the mother assured. “He’s been passed around almost continuously since he was born. He sleeps right through it all.”

“Well, all right,” Hester’s voice was a mixture of excitement and nervousness. She gently lifted the baby and, carefully cradling him in her arms, stood. She rocked back and forth slowly, laughing softly at the faces the baby made in its sleep. “So his name is Jebbie?”

“His name,” Peter announced, “is Jarrod Eugene Heath Barton Barkley but, at least, his mother came up with a reasonable nickname even though she has misspelled it as J E H B B I E.”

Hester’s laugh was joyful, “Oh, what a wonderful name for a beautiful little boy. I love how you used his initials for his nickname.”

“Thank you,” Samantha wrinkled her nose at her husband who was still grousing about the unusual name.

“You weren’t disappointed when they told you it was a boy, were you?” Hester asked carefully as she rocked the baby in her arms. She clearly remembered Samantha’s many statements that she wanted a little sister for Lizzie V.

“Oh, heavens no, he’s exactly what I wanted, a healthy baby,” Samantha responded and then chuckled, “And I knew it was a boy long before he was born. Little girls are easy to birth, those broad Barkley shoulders take a lot more pushing.”

“Sam,” her husband scolded. “Behave yourself.”

Hester had blushed a little but she was much more interested in the baby she held. He was so perfect. His eyes were tightly closed but he had a cute little nose and bow of a mouth. His skin was pink and his little head had a downy covering of blond hair. “Oh, Samantha,” she whispered, “he’s incredible.”

“Yeah, we think he’s a keeper,” Peter grinned. He walked to the window, “Well, I see that Becca’s out there visiting with Heath over the back wall.”

“Really,” Samantha raised her eyebrows and then confided, “I think she likes Heath. It seems like any time he’s in town they manage to have a visit over our back wall.”

“I think Heath likes Becca,” her husband replied. “I don’t think we’re the only reason he comes to Frisco.”

This finally stirred a response out of Nick. He leaned over to look out the window. “Heath like some girl here?”

“Hmm,” Peter murmured, “Judge Henderson’s daughter.”

“He take her out?”

“Not yet. They just spend lots of time visiting over the back wall.”

“Well, why hasn’t he asked her out?” the older brother demanded.

Peter just shrugged, “Don’t know. Maybe he figures it’ll be too hard to try to spark a girl who lives in Frisco. Look, I need to get to the office for my meeting, but I should be gone only a few hours. Send Sean for me if you need me.”

“We’ll be fine,” Samantha accepted the quick kiss her husband leaned down to give her. “Would you do me a favor and stop out back and invite Becca up.”

“Will do. Hester, it’s good to see you. Try not to spoil my son too much. And thank you very much for the gift, it was very kind of you. I’m betting that you’ll see those things at Jehbbie’s christening,” Peter winked at her.

Hester pulled her eyes off the baby long enough to acknowledge Peter’s thanks and reply modestly, “Oh, I don’t think they’re fancy enough for a christening.”

“Yes, they are,” Samantha countered quickly. “They’ll look perfect with our christening gown. They’re just wonderful.”

The baby in Hester’s arm began to squirm in his sleep, flexing his arms and legs. “Oh, my, is he all right? Am I hurting him?” she began to panic.

Automatically, Nick stepped closer to her and gently cupped the baby’s head with his large hand, “He’s fine. Just glad not to be all cooped up any more. You’re not hurting him.”

Peter and Samantha exchanged a quick look. There was something very natural about the way Nick and Hester were standing together, linked by the small baby in Hester’s arms, both of them soothing him. Something very natural, something very right. As the baby continued to squirm, Peter stepped closer and studied his newest son.

“He’s hungry,” the father announced with authority.

Samantha groaned, “Oh, he can’t be, Peter. I just fed him two hours ago.”

“I’m telling you, he’s hungry,” her husband turned back toward her. “I know the signs. He’s gotten his fist up to his mouth and is chewing on it. In a few minutes, he’s gonna realize that’s not what he wants and then you’ll have an angry Barkley on your hands.”

“But I just fed him,” she repeated.

“Can’t help it; he’s hungry.”

“Well, you better give him to me, Hester,” Samantha grumbled. “I got so spoiled having a little girl to nurse. Lizzie V. was such a dainty little eater; the boys were such pigs. I’d forgotten how demanding they were. Honestly, I think my boys just see me as a milk cow the first six months of their lives.”

As both Hester and Nick blushed slightly, Peter just teased, “You’re probably right, Sam. Barkley boys tend to have one-track minds. Look, ma chere, I’ve got to go. I shouldn’t be long.”

“Go, we’ll be fine,” she smiled at her husband and then turned her attention to the baby that Hester had handed her. Then she glanced over at her brother-in-law, “Are you staying?”

Nick refused to be further embarrassed by brazen sister-in-law, “I’ve seen you nurse Lizzie V.; doesn’t bother me, but I will let you women have your hen party.” And then he surprised them all by turning to Hester, “Good to see you again, Hester. Enjoy your visit with Sam. Me and Heath will see to Adam.”

The woman looked surprised but managed to reply softly, “Thank you, Nick.”

Peter exchanged one more look with his wife and then stepped out of the door followed closely by his older brother. They both started down the stairs, but Peter hesitated for a moment and then apologized, “We never meant to spring Hester on you that way, Nick.”

“Yeah, it would have been kind of nice if someone in the family had mentioned that the sweet ‘auntie’ who was taking care of Tom and Nicky’s friend was Hester Converse,” he said it with just a hint of bitterness.

“Honestly, Nick, none of us wanted to bring up old hurts for you. We thought you two might never bump into each other. Who knows how much longer Hester will stay in San Francisco. We just didn’t know how you would react to the news that she was friends with Sam,” Peter hesitated a moment and then continued, “And I have to add you’re reacting much better than any of us ever imagined.”

Nick turned to give his brother a cold look, “Who says I’m done reacting. I’m gonna go out and spend some time with the boys.”

Peter just stared at his older brother as he moved down the stairs and turned to go to the back of the house. Whew, he was glad he was going to be away from the house for a few hours . . . no telling what was going to happen given that infamous Nick Barkley temper.

Chapter 36

Jarrod was pleased with himself for completing his work in Sacramento in less than two weeks. His concentrated effort meant he could return to San Francisco for a few days before having to go on to Stockton to prepare for the Peavy trial. When he stepped off the train, he considered his options. He could go to his office, he could go to his townhouse, he could go directly to Peter’s home to check on little Jehbbie and the rest of the family, or he could stop by Christiana’s shop to see if she was in and if she would like to go with him to Peter’s and then to dinner. The final option was the one that brought a smile to his face.

As he hailed a hack and gave the address for Christiana’s shop, he made no effort to erase the smile. He so wanted to see her again. The night they had spent together had been incredible. He couldn’t remember the last time that he had so enjoyed his time with a woman . . . perhaps with Beth. But even then there had not been quite the passion that he had enjoyed with Christiana. Beth had, indeed, been an innocent when he had married her and he had tried to be gentle and had used a good deal of restraint as he began to teach her about the physical act of love between a husband and wife. They were just beginning when she was taken from him.

For all he had said about this being their first time, about how she was a virgin to him, he had not been as gentle with Christiana. Knowing that she had been married for six years, had lain with her husband many, many times, he had been more demanding of her, letting his hands move across her body more freely, almost impatiently urging her toward her release as he struggled to delay his own. And, although she had said it had never been this way for her before, she had been fearless in her response to his touches, to his demands. She had matched his passion with her own, unhesitatingly touching him, encouraging him to touch her. There had been no restraint between them and it had made for an incredible night.

As the hack turned down her street, Jarrod could feel the soft drum of his need for her in his loins. Grinning at himself, he forced himself back under control. God, he was like some schoolboy, getting hard at the hint of the swell of a woman’s breast. But, even as he chastised himself, his thoughts raced back to that night. It wasn’t just the thought of the swell of her breast. No, he had touched and caressed, nipped at and even suckled Christiana’s firm breasts. And she had seemed to delight in each and every thing that he had done to her.

God, he hoped that she wanted to be with him again.

The desire, the want, surprised him. It wasn’t just the need for a woman, for the release. He wanted Christiana, only her. He wanted to see if he could again have her gasping, sobbing out his name as her body rocked with the power of the release he had given her. He wanted to again slide into her, heat and heat merging, glorying in the upward spiraling pleasure that he knew would consume him.

When the hack pulled up in front of her shop, he bounded out of the carriage but then hesitated. What if she wasn’t in town . . . or was in town but away on a job? Should he wait on her doorstep? Then he saw the open sign and her slender frame move across the space illuminated by her small window front. She was there! He turned quickly and paid the hack driver and picked up his valise. The tinkling bell on her door announced his arrival. She had another customer, but she automatically glanced toward the doorway. There was nothing automatic about the dazzlingly smile she gave him nor the way her eyes crinkled above the smile. She was happy to see him, he knew instinctively.

Her voice, however, was coolly pleasant, “I’ll be with you in just a moment, sir.”

Jarrod could be just as cool and pleasant, “That’s fine. Take your time. I’ll just look around at some of the prints you have displayed.”

She nodded at him and returned her attention to her client. Jarrod shamelessly eavesdropped as Christiana showed the woman the prints she had made of the woman’s children. Jarrod tried to surreptitiously view the pictures but the woman caught him.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” she gushed.

He smiled and nodded, “Very beautiful,” all the time thinking that while Christiana’s portrait of the two children was lovely, Peter and Samantha’s children were much more beautiful. But he was polite and made the appropriate comments, all the time wishing the woman would just pay Christiana and leave. When his wish was finally granted, he sighed loudly and reached out to gather Christiana into his arms and kiss her soundly.

“Jarrod Barkley,” she immediately protested. “What if a customer came in?”

He grinned shamelessly, “They would have only been a little shocked. A beautiful woman receiving a kiss is not the most scandalous thing that occurs in this city.”

So that’s all I am to you? A woman to kiss? I’m no longer an astute businesswoman?” she leaned back in his arms but remained in their circle, surprised but very pleased with his description of her as a beautiful woman.

“Ah, you misunderstand. You’re many things. You’re a very talented, creative artist. You’re an astute businesswoman. And you’re a very beautiful woman whom I have had the privilege of kissing. A privilege I hope that I’ll be able to enjoy in the future.”

“Hmm,” her smile was teasing, even as she thought how very gentlemanly it was of him to talk of just the privilege of kissing when they had done much more. The sweetness of it touched her. “We’ll see. And, by the way, what are you doing here? You said that you’d be in Sacramento for two weeks and then would have to go straight to Stockton to prepare for a trial there. Are you slacking off, Mr. Barkley?”

“Ah, contraire, my dear Mrs. Wilson,” he took the gentle ribbing in stride, “I happen to have slaved away for the past 11 days and have gained myself a few days of free time before I must return to the salt mines, this time in Stockton.”

“So you came to San Francisco?”

Jarrod nodded, “I came to San Francisco . . . to see you.” He loved the way that this brought a pink blush to her cheeks.

She managed to maintain some composure, “Oh, really. So you’ve seen me. Now what?”

“Well,” he drew the word out cautiously. “I was hoping that, once you were done here, we could go over to Peter and Samantha’s to see the family and then, perhaps, out to a nice quiet dinner. How does that sound to you?”

Christiana managed not to smile too widely, “Hmm, well, that sounds like an interesting plan.”

“Just interesting?”

“Oh, interesting, entertaining, enjoyable.”

“And agreeable to you?”

Her lips twitched slightly and then she nodded, “Very agreeable to me.”

“Good,” his blue eyes danced. “So, how much longer do you need to work? Do you have any more appointments this afternoon?”

Again, Christiana was pleasantly surprised by his obvious impatience. So unlike the irritatingly calm, methodical, and stodgy lawyer she had pigeon-holed him as when she had first met him in Stockton. When his good looks and those incredible blue eyes had caused her heart to skip a beat that day on the railway platform, she had brought herself quickly under control by telling herself that he could never be as wonderfully entertaining and delightfully unpredictable as Allen had been. No dusty old lawyer could ever measure up to her impulsive, fun-loving husband.

And then she had gotten to know Jarrod Barkley. While he did have a very calm air about him most of the time, it was just an extension of the self-assurance that he exhibited. She knew this self assurance, as much as his skills and knowledge of the law, made his clients respect and rely upon him. And she had seen how the calm air could evaporate immediately when he became impassioned about something. He didn’t know she had slipped in twice to watch him argue a case in court. Oh, those eyes could snap with indignation and disdain when the veracity of his position was challenged, and that smooth voice could become clipped and the modulation could change so that you felt that he was just barely controlling his outrage. It made everyone sit up and take notice.

And, as she had spent more time with him, she had learned how his interests extended far beyond his beloved courtroom. He was, indeed, a man of two cities . . . of San Francisco and of Stockton . . . and he sought out the best in both. In Stockton, he loved the ranch . . . and the family that was there. He loved the solitude of the open spaces and the companionship of friends and neighbors, many of whom he had known his whole life. In San Francisco, he loved all the fine things of life in the city . . . the hustle and bustle of all the business activities, the restaurants, the theater, the opera . . . but he also loved the serene beauty of the bay. She knew this because he had gone with her one afternoon when she had wanted to try photographing the bay under a gray March sky. He had stood back as she worked to get the angles just the way she wanted, waiting patiently, seeming to understand that she needed to be the one to shift the heavy equipment and to position the camera as was required. In fact as she fussed with things, he had kindly murmured, “I know I hate to have people hanging over my shoulder while I’m trying to work. Would it bother you if I walked over to that point?” She had been immediately grateful, “Thank you.” He had smiled and added, “I’m not going to interfere with your photograph, am I?” She had assured him that he was well out of her field of focus and then had immediately turned back to the task of trying to frame her picture.

But, as Christiana had worked to get just the photographs that she wanted, she couldn’t quite completely dismiss him from her thoughts. When she was finally satisfied, she had immediately turned to where he said he was walking . . . and her heart skipped a beat again. She did not even realize that she was turning the camera to capture the sight until she was reaching for another plate. She told herself she was taking the picture for his mother, that Victoria would appreciate it just as she had the pictures of Peter and his family, of Audra and Barton, of Heath and Nick around the ranch. But, as she opened the shutter, she knew she would keep this picture for herself. The image was captured in her heart at the same time that it was etched upon the photographic plate. He stood at the end of the point, looking out across the bay, one hand holding his hat, the other tucked into his pants pocket. The cool breeze was gently ruffling his hair. He was too far away for her to see his face, but she knew, just by the relaxed way that he was standing, that he was smiling that gentle smile she liked so much, and his eyes were twinkling. She kept the one print she had made of the plate tucked in the top drawer of her chest of drawers.

Now, as the thoughts whirled through her mind she realized that Jarrod was starting to frown slightly as he awaited her reply. Quickly, she explained, “No appointments this afternoon but I have a few prints I need to do and a little clean up. It’s a little early to close the shop, but give me another hour or so and I guess I could slip away.”

An hour or so, Jarrod tried not to show his disappointment. Remember, he chided himself, she has a business to run, this is her livelihood, she needs to be successful at this. He made himself smile and nod, “Sounds reasonable. Is there something that I can do to help?”

She laughed softly, “Oh, no, that’s all right.” And then she swallowed hard and took the next step, “Why don’t you take your valise upstairs so it will be out of the way? You’re welcome to relax up there while I finish up . . . I know it’s a long train trip from Sacramento.”

Jarrod was barely able to contain his widening smile. Christiana had invited him back into her private quarters, told him to put his valise up there, to relax up there. If he took his valise upstairs, then when they returned from their dinner this evening he would, of course, have to go upstairs to retrieve it. Or maybe he wouldn’t retrieve it. Maybe he’d just stay with her again.

He stopped his mind from wandering ahead to this evening. He shouldn’t make such assumptions . . . that she would want him to again share her bed. But, based upon the way Christiana’s eyes were now twinkling and her cheeks were pink, he suspected that her suggestion to take the valise upstairs and out of the way wasn’t quite as innocent as it might seem to an outsider. “I think I might just do that,” he managed to calmly nod.

“Good,” she returned the nod. “And I’ll get to work so that we can leave soon.”

“All right, lovely lady, I get the hint,” but he leaned down to brush her lips with his once more. “I’ll get out of the way so that the astute businesswoman can get about her business.”

And Jarrod did manage to stay away from her for almost 30 minutes. He placed his valise in her sitting room . . . but against the wall that it shared with the bedroom. He hoped that didn’t seem too forward. He did use her washstand to freshen up a little and he wandered around the different rooms, looking at the prints she had hanging on her walls. He was sure that some of them were ones that her late husband had taken; he thought he was gaining an eye for her work and, smugly, thought it was actually more compelling than “Allen’s.” He helped himself to some of the coffee that was warm on the stove in the tiny alcove kitchen and continued to peruse her walls.

His eyes, however, kept straying to the doorway of the bedroom, to the double bed there, neatly made up with the double wedding ring quilt. He couldn’t stop himself from summoning up the image of the two of them nestled together under that quilt the last morning he had been in San Francisco. God, how he had hated leaving her that morning, having to hurry to his townhouse to clean up and pack his bags so that he could catch the train to Sacramento. If he hadn’t had the legislative hearings that afternoon, he would have never gone. It had been a long, long time since he had felt so “at peace.” The intimacy had, of course, been delicious, but more important were the quiet moments that they had spent together, their fingers touching and intertwining, their voices low, the words sometimes halting but always honest as they spoke of their pasts. Now, now that they had spoken of the past, he hoped that they could begin to talk of the future. He just wondered whether Christiana had considered that they might share the future.

His eyes had continued to wander around the interior of the bedroom, and he suddenly frowned. Something was different, his subconscious said. He scanned the room again and, his heart jumped, he realized what it was immediately. Allen’s picture no longer sat on her bureau. He remembered how her eyes would occasionally stray to it when they had lain together in the early morning light, when she had talked about her husband, about their life together, about his death. Now that picture was gone. She hadn’t disposed of it, he knew instinctively. She was like him. She had slipped the picture away somewhere. Allen was still in her heart but she was preparing to make room for another. Beth was still in his heart, but he was ready to take another woman into it.

He needed to see Christiana now; his heart urged him even as his mind warned him not to disturb her. He listened to his heart and headed back down the stairs and then paused as he saw her sitting at her counter, carefully labeling her negative plates. She was sitting on the low stool, humming softly to herself, one foot swinging back and forth in time with her song. For several moments he just watched her, thinking how young she looked, almost like a schoolgirl. And then she must have felt his eyes on her because she suddenly looked up . . . and the smile she gave him stopped his heart. He was falling in love; how in God’s name was he going to handle this?

He forced himself to smile back at her and to come down the stairs slowly. She raised her eyebrows and mockingly questioned, “So, not able to relax? Trying to rush me along so that you can see your nephews and niece?”

“Not trying to rush you at all,” he came to stand on the other side of the counter. “But I do wish there was something I could do to help you.”

“Hmm, how are you on making photographic prints?” she teased lightly.

“Would not even attempt it,” Jarrod said instantly, “but” and he gestured toward her stack of negatives, “if you have all those labeled, perhaps I could file them for you and you could go to work on your photographs.”

“Hmm,” Christiana eyed him skeptically. She had always done all the filing, even when Allen was still alive. Of course, it wasn’t a difficult system. “Well, I guess that would speed things along a little. It really isn’t hard. I have all the plates tagged the way I want them filed. You just need to file them in the cabinets alphabetically.”

“All right,” he nodded as he came around the counter. “I’ll do that while you go to the dark room and work there.”

“Do you think you can handle this?” she looked up into his eyes, her expression serious.

“I know my alphabet,” he replied solemnly.

“Oh, you,” she wrinkled her nose at him and started to slip past him. He caught her arms and leaned down to kiss her, not a little peck but a firm, long kiss. When he drew back, he was pleased to see her slowly open her eyes and just stare at him with bleary eyes. “Um, yes, well,” she finally managed to stutter out. “I should, umm, see to those photographs.”

“You do that,” he said calmly.

Jarrod grinned to himself after she passed through the black curtains into her darkroom and set about following her instructions. He admired her organization, it was logical and extremely neat. He suspected that she set aside time each week to catch up on her filing. As he dutifully filed each plate in its proper place, he did not realize that he was humming until he was almost finished with the filing. Chuckling softly, he shook his head. Just being with her made him unaccountably happy. As he filed away the last plate, he glanced around the little shop, wondering if there was anything else that he should do. Everything looked neat, pictures hanging exactly level, easels angled to catch the best light from the windows.

He made his decision quickly. Flipping her sign to “Closed,” he locked the front door and drew the shades. For a moment, he considered again the need to encourage Christiana to have a second lock installed . . . in fact, he could volunteer to do it for her. The one she had was serviceable but a second would make him feel she was more secure. He slipped behind the counter and then behind the first curtain that guarded her dark room. In the narrow space between the two curtains, he hesitated. He really shouldn’t be bothering her, but . . . .

“I’ve finished my assignment, Mrs. Wilson,” he made his voice light and teasing. “Do you have anything else for me to do?”

Her laughter sent a thrill through him. God, how he loved that sound. “Come on in,” she called to him. “It’s safe now; I’m down to washing my prints.”

Jarrod slipped through the second set of curtains into the small room. The strong smell of chemicals assaulted his nose but he quickly adapted to it. Her back was to him but she turned her head and smiled at him.

“Everything going all right?” he slipped up behind her and looked down at the prints floating in the pan of water. They were of a young couple, no doubt their engagement or wedding picture.

“Uh huh,” she nodded. “Just need to let these finish washing and then I’ll hang them up to dry and THEN I’ll be able forsake my businesswoman role and go have some fun.”

“Good,” his voice was little more than a whisper. His eyes had moved from the pictures floating in the tray of water to the back of her neck, where soft curls of brown hair had escaped from her very business-like bun to curl alluring on her creamy white neck. He didn’t try to stop himself as he leaned down to kiss them.

“Jarrod,” she murmured a soft protest, but did not move away from him. When he let his tongue taste her skin, she moaned. He banded her with his arms, holding her tightly against his chest even as his mouth continued to play up and down her neck. As he let his right hand move from around her waist to gently caress her breasts, she trembled in his arms. When his fingers slipped open a few of the buttons of her prim and proper shirtwaist, she gasped and then reached her hands back to grip his rigid thighs. As his hands skimmed over the soft skin that was pushed up by the thick corset, she moaned again, “Oh, Jarrod.”

“Umm,” he whispered against her neck, his teeth gently nipping her skin, causing her to tremble again and then her right hand went up to cup the back of his neck.

“Jarrod, we really shouldn’t,” Christiana’s breathy voice was in stark contrast to her words. “Someone might come into the shop.”

“I’ve already locked the front door, flipped over the sign, and pulled the shades,” he murmured as he moved his lips around her neck so that he could nuzzle her ear. When she didn’t answer immediately, he paused, afraid that he had misread her actions and pushed too hard. But then she turned in his arms and rose on her toes so that she could press her lips to his.

“Good,” she whispered against his mouth and he knew he had misread nothing.

Jarrod’s tongue teased her mouth open and she moaned as it slipped in to taste her. As he withdrew, her tongue followed his, obviously wanting to continue the intimate connection. It was his turn to moan with pleasure. He tightened his hold on her and just let himself enjoy the sensual dance of tongues. When she groaned and trembled again, he broke the kiss and let his lips return to her slender neck. Impulsively, he moved his hands to her waist and lifted her so that she sat on her workbench.

“Missed you so much,” he whispered against her neck as he pressed himself between her knees, letting his kisses then trail down to her delicate collarbone and around to the delightful hollow at the base of her neck where he hesitated to tickle with his tongue before his kisses moved down her smooth chest to the soft swell of skin above her corset. His fingers easily slipped open a few more buttons so that he could expand his exploration of her skin.

“Umm,” Christiana murmured, her fingers playing in his hair. “I missed you, too.”

He had to force his mind to think logical thoughts. Struggling to maintain an even tone, he moved his mouth back up to her ear and, after a few nibbles, whispered, “Did you have your health last week?”

Jarrod felt her start and he cringed as she barely whispered, “Yes, right on time.”

Again, he fought to keep his voice level, “Good.” He made himself lean back and look into her deep brown eyes, “I was fairly certain we were safe, but one never knows for sure.”

The blush stole up into Christiana’s cheeks and she whispered, “Yes, one never knows for sure.”

Now he made himself address the more delicate issue, “Um, since you just had your health, this isn’t really a safe time.”

Her eyes dropped to look at his top button and her cheeks grew redder, “Yes, of course, you’re right.”

“I, uh, I, uh, don’t want to pressure you but I brought some, that is, I have some preventatives, some sheaths in my valise . . . upstairs,” he finished weakly.

Her sparkling brown eyes snapped up to look directly into his brilliant blue ones and a small smile began to tug at her lips, “Well, then, let’s go upstairs.”

Even as his heart exalted at her reply he forced himself to think less selfishly, “I don’t want to pressure you, Christiana. I know that last time, that is, the first time, that we were both perhaps being carried along, at least partially, by the exuberance of Jehbbie’s safe arrival. If you’re not comfortable with continuing our relationship on that umm that level, I’m willing to take a step back. However, I want to be sure that you understand I want our relationship to continue . . . at whatever level you are comfortable with. Not having you in my life would be very disappointing to me.”

Her eyes crinkled as she circled her arms around his neck “I just thought when you started talking about my health and it not being a safe time that you were going to tell me we shouldn’t risk it. That would have disappointed me a great deal.”

Jarrod let out a pent-up breath and then bent down to meet her lips with a long kiss, but when he drew back he repeated, “Are you sure, Christiana? I very much want to be with you, but I don’t want you to agree just to please me.”

Christiana shook her head and gently caressed his cheek with one hand, “Dear, Jarrod, I’m doing this because it’s what I want.” Then she added in a teasing voice, “And I was very afraid that you were going to let me experience something so wonderful once and then tell me that we shouldn’t risk it ever again.”

His ethics and his emotions warred inside of him. What they were doing wasn’t right in the eyes of God. Although they were two adults, although their actions would hurt no one else, it still wasn’t right. Of course, it wasn’t right when he paid for the attentions of a woman at a brothel, but, for some reason, this seemed different. This was Christiana.

She must have seen the indecision in his eyes, because she whispered, “Jarrod? What’s wrong? Is it you really don’t want to be with me and you don’t know how to tell me?”

“No, no,” he instantly denied her claim. “I want nothing more than to be with you, it’s just that I feel that I’m pressuring you, have maybe rushed you into something you’re not comfortable with. If you want, we can go back to the way things were before. I’m not trying to ease away from you now, I promise. I just don’t want to do something that might cause me to lose you in the future.”

Christiana continued to look into his eyes. When she spoke, her voice, though soft, was strong, “You know, your mother told Hester that you can’t go back in your life . . . you can only move forward. Jarrod, I have no idea what the future holds for either of us, but I do know that I am enjoying the present, the right now, more than I have in a very, very long time. I’m enjoying being close to someone again, sharing my feelings with someone; and I’ve enjoyed the intimacy that we have shared. I don’t have any idea how long what we have will last, but I would like to just enjoy it for now. For the first time in a long time, I’m willing to risk letting myself be close to someone, to risk the pain again.”

“I don’t ever want to cause you pain, Christiana,” he said swiftly.

“I know you don’t,” she whispered, “and I never want to hurt you, but we both know that pain does happen despite our best intentions. Please, Jarrod, can’t we just not worry about that now, can’t we just enjoy today?”

Jarrod brought his hand up to gently stroke her cheek. He bent to touch his lips to hers. She was the one who rose on her toes to make the kiss firmer. When she whispered to him “please take me upstairs, Jarrod,” he quit fighting against what they both wanted. He simply scooped her up into his arms and did as she requested.

* * * * * * * *

It had been a delightful afternoon. Just as before, after they had satisfied their first passion, they had curled together under the covers, talking openly and honestly about their lives. And, once again, he wasn’t satisfied in having her just once so it was hours before they finally began to talk of getting dressed and going to Peter and Samantha’s. They had dressed almost un-self-consciously. When Christiana had drawn a particularly lovely blue dress from her wardrobe and then hesitated, Jarrod had immediately prompted, “That’s a beautiful dress. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you wear it before. Why don’t you wear it today?”

She had blushed slightly and murmured, “Well, actually this was small fashion mistake on my part. I loved the print and completely forgot to notice that it buttoned at the back.” When he had just looked at her blankly, she had haltingly explained, “I, um, I can’t button it myself; I need help.”

And once again he had been struck by how truly alone Christiana was. She had no one to help her with her buttons so, of course, she always had to buy blouses and dresses that buttoned in the front. Smiling gently, he had drawn the dress off the hangar and handed it to her, “Wear this one today, please. I’ll help you with the buttons.”

Now as they sat together in the hack headed for Peter and Samantha’s – sat side-by-side rather than across from each other – Jarrod reached out to take her small hand into his and gently traced around it with his forefinger.

After a few moments, Christiana softly asked, “Are you all right, Jarrod?”

“I’m superlative,” he grinned at her.

“Superlative?” she raised her eyebrows.

“Yes, superlative in all aspects,” he leaned over to brush her lips with his.

She laughed, blushed slightly, and changed the subject, “So, have you heard from the family since you’ve been in Sacramento?”

“Hmm, a letter from Mother, a note from Gene,” Jarrod smiled at her. “You, my dear lady, are a much better correspondent than any of my family.”

“Nothing from the ranch?”

He was surprised at her question but answered honestly, “Well, Heath isn’t much on writing and Nick is 100 times worse. I generally only get very terse telegrams from them when something is wrong. Why?”

“Oh,” she blushed again, “I just wondered how Nick was handling the surprise of seeing Hester again.”

“Mother’s letter said that things went very well,” he shared. “That Nick was, of course, surprised but seemed to handle it well. Hester was much more nervous than he was.”

“She was VERY nervous,” Christiana’s response drew a raised eyebrow from Jarrod so she admitted, “She and I had lunch this past week and she told me about it. She said that Nick was very polite . . . almost too much so. She said she would have felt better if he had exploded but he never did. He just left her to talk with Samantha and went down and played with Adam and the other little boys. Hester said that Adam couldn’t stop talking about ‘Mr. Nick, the cowboy.’”

“Nick’s great with kids,” Jarrod smiled. “I’m glad things went as smoothly as they did. At least, Hester and Samantha will be able to maintain their friendship for as long as Hester remains in San Francisco.”

“Samantha’s just worried that Hester’s presence will just be one more reason for Nick to avoid coming to San Francisco to visit them.”

He shrugged, “Well, Nick came to see Jehbbie. Maybe that’s an indication of how the future will be.”

“Samantha sure hopes so; she worries about the distance between Peter and Nick.”

“They’ll sort it out,” big brother seemed uncharacteristically unconcerned.

The hack pulled up in front of Peter’s home and Jarrod swung out easily and then reached up to help Christiana down. They shared shy smiles and he paid their fare. Jarrod opened the front gate for her and then took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. She wanted to protest, to say that the family was going to get the wrong idea, but she wasn’t sure what the wrong idea was. Instead, she just walked beside him. He continued to smile down at her as he knocked on the door. It wasn’t until the door started to open that he tore his eyes away from her. When he realized that it was his mother who had answered his knock, he started to greet her enthusiastically but was stunned when Victoria literally threw herself into his arms.

“Oh, thank God, you’re here, Jarrod,” Victoria’s voice cracked. “It’s all just too terrible.”

Chapter 37

Jarrod automatically circled his mother’s slender body with his strong arms. Even as he sought to sooth her, he anxiously asked, “What’s wrong? Is there something wrong with Sam or the baby?”

“No, no,” Victoria managed to gasp. “It’s not Sam or the baby. It’s Tom.”

“Tom’s hurt? Sick?” Jarrod exchanged a panicked look with Christiana.

“No, he’s missing,” his mother answered.

“Missing?” this made no sense. As he urged her into the house, he asked, “Have you checked through the house?”

“Yes, yes, we’ve looked all through the house,” his mother was getting frantic . . . something Jarrod had never seen before.

“I’m sure he’s around somewhere. He’s probably just crawled under a bed or something,” he tried to calm her.

“No, no, he’s not in the house,” Victoria insisted. “He went outside.”

Trying a different tact, Jarrod quizzed, “Where are Samantha and Audra? Are they looking for him?”

“They’re in the parlor. Eugene and Samuel are looking for him; Sean has gone for Peter,” she pressed a hand to her mouth.

“Samuel?” Jarrod searched his mind.

“Samuel Henderson,” his mother murmured.

“Judge Henderson?”

Victoria nodded shakily, “Yes. He was out in his garden, checking his rose bushes, when Eugene discovered that Tom wasn’t out in the tree house where he was supposed to be.”

“Jarrod?” it was Audra’s voice that drew their attention to the parlor. Like her mother, she stepped into his embrace, “Oh, thank God, you’re here. I’m so afraid.”

“It’s all right, honey, we’ll find him. He’s nearby, I’m sure,” Jarrod gently hugged her.

Christiana slipped past him and into the parlor. He heard her soft voice, “Samantha, it’s all right. We’ll find him. It’s all right.”

His sister-in-law, however, sounded close to hysterical, “No, no, you don’t understand. Something has happened to him.”

Compassion for his brother’s wife pushed Jarrod to guide his sister and mother toward the parlor. Christiana sat on the settee beside Samantha, trying to calm her friend. Jarrod left his mother and sister and moved to kneel at Samantha’s feet and take her hands into his, “Shhh, now, Samantha, everything will be fine. He’s near; we’ll find him.”

“No, no,” she shook her head vigorously and the tears flew.

“Listen, he’s just gone off some place and lost track of the time or maybe fallen asleep somewhere,” Jarrod comforted. “I remember one time when we thought we had lost Nick and he had climbed up in the hayloft and fallen asleep."

“No, no,” Samantha continued to shake her head and sob.

“Samantha,” Jarrod begged her to calm down. He searched his mind for something more to say and was saved by the sound of the front door opening and his younger brother’s voice.

“Sam,” Peter’s voice was sharp.

Samantha pulled her hands from Jarrod’s grasp and leapt to her feet. She was halfway across the room by the time that Peter stepped through the foyer. She buried herself into his chest and he had no choice but to wrap her tightly in his arms. He let her sob against his chest for a few moments but then gently pushed her back and bent down to look into her face, “Sam, what’s wrong? What’s happened?”

The tears ran freely down her cheeks, “It’s Tom. He’s missing. We can’t find him. Oh, Peter, I’m so afraid.”

He drew her to him again and gently patted her back, “Shh, now, it’s all right. We’ll find him. I remember one time Nick scared Mother and Father half to death, thinking he’d gone off and gotten lost, and then Jarrod found him asleep in the hayloft.”

“Don’t tell me that story, I’ve heard that story three times already,” her voice rose shrilly. “This isn’t the same.”

Her rising hysteria was frightening Peter; Jarrod could see it in his brother’s eyes, “All right, Sam, explain it to me. Explain to me what has happened.” Amazingly, Peter’s voice was calm and cool. This was Peter, the deputy federal marshal, Jarrod knew, able to contain his emotions so that he could assess and control a situation.

And the calmness in his voice gave his wife the strength to take a deep breath and gasp out the story, “Nicky and Lizzie were down for their naps and Tom was sitting with me, like he always does, and we were reading a story together. But then Jehbbie woke up and I had to take care of him. Tom was so patient, but I knew it was boring for him. He asked me if he could just take the book out to his tree house to look at it. I told him, I told him that would fine. I got busy with Jehbbie and then Gene got here and he and I talked for a bit. He asked about Tom and I told him he was outside, that he went out by himself when Jehbbie woke up demanding my attention. Gene was so sweet, he said he would go out and play with Tom for a bit, make him feel special. But when Gene went out he wasn’t there. Gene looked all over the yard and . . . and . . . .”

“What, honey?” Peter pressed.

“He found, Gene found the book. It was lying in the dirt, beside the fence,” she broke down now, sobbing into his chest. “Tom would never do that, Tom wouldn’t, Tom wouldn’t.”

Peter crushed his wife to his chest and just stared blankly ahead for a moment. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Frowning, he whispered, “Where’s Gene now?”

A voice from the edge of the room answered, “I’m here.”

Everyone turned to look at the youngest brother who was flanked by the very distinguished looking but obviously upset Judge Henderson.

“We’ve looked everywhere,” Gene walked into the room, slowly shaking his head. “Everywhere in a three-block radius. One little girl thought she saw a carriage parked on your side street, but that’s the only thing we learned.”

“Could she describe it at all?” Jarrod said quickly.

“No,” Gene shook his head. “She just said it was a dark carriage. She didn’t see Tom next to it, but that’s the side of the yard where I found the book.”

“Tom would never just drop a book in the dirt,” Peter murmured as he continued to hold his wife close.

“I know,” Samantha whispered against his chest. “He loves books; he treats them so gently. He would never ever have dropped it.”

Peter closed his eyes and said the words that they all had avoided, “Someone has taken him.”

A terrible silence fell across the room as everyone struggled to think of something to say, to deny the words, to offer some assurances that everything would be all right. But there was nothing that could be said.

It was the outsider, Judge Henderson, who finally spoke, “Perhaps we should contact the police. I know the chief well . . . I could go get him.”

Peter slowly shook his head, “It’s probably not a good idea. The law here at the house might scare off the kidnapper.” He stumbled on the last word and Samantha sobbed. “It’ll place Tom more at risk,” he finished.

“What do we do?” Gene whispered.

“Wait,” Peter murmured. “Wait and hope.”

“Hope?” the youngest brother questioned.

“Hope for a ransom note,” his older brother’s voice was grim.

“Peter, do you have any idea who might have done this?” Judge Henderson gently probed.

The young father slowly shook his head, “Could be anybody. Someone just cruising an affluent neighborhood and snatched him; someone who knew I was a banker and figured they could get a good ransom from a banker . . . maybe someone from my past wanting to settle a score.”

Jarrod heard the self-recrimination in Peter’s voice and immediately objected, “The Barkley name is well-known across the state. It could be someone wanting to settle a score against the family.”

Peter slowly shook his head and then his eyes narrowed and he murmured, “Crowne.”

“Oh, surely not,” Victoria started.

“It’s my fault then,” Samantha gasped. “I was the one who confronted him at the dance; I was the one who practically dared him to do something.”

“No, you didn’t,” Peter gently shook his wife. “You warned him to stay away from your children, that’s all. I’m the one who refused to do business with him; this is his way to get back at me.”

“You don’t know that,” Jarrod argued.

“Yes, I do,” Peter’s voice was cold. He released his wife and turned to leave the room.

“Peter,” the coldness scared Samantha. “Peter, what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to go see Crowne; I’m going to get my son back.” Peter brushed past Gene and Judge Henderson.

Fear, fear for her son, fear for what her husband might do, immobilized Samantha. She didn’t realize that she turned helpless eyes toward her husband’s eldest brother. The look spurred Jarrod into action. He quickly followed his brother across the house, to Peter’s office, where he wasn’t surprised to find his younger brother unlocking his gun cabinet and drawing out a revolver and then reaching for the simple leather holster he only wore when he was working out on the range.

“Peter,” Jarrod started to discourage his brother from taking the gun.

“Don’t try to stop me, Jarrod,” the words were crisp. “He’s my son; Crowne has him; I’m getting him back.”

“You don’t know Crowne has him.”

“He’s the only one that makes sense. Don’t try to stop me.”

Jarrod took a deep breath and replied, “I’m not going to stop you, but I am going with you.”

“Whatever,” Peter finished loading his revolver and started strapping on the holster. “Just don’t get in my way.”

Peter stalked from his office and found his wife and the rest of the group gathered in the foyer of his home. Now it was Samantha who tried to stop him, “Peter, please.”

“Don’t worry, Sam. I’m gonna get Tom back.”

“Peter, you don’t know it’s Crowne,” she was so frightened by the coldness in his eyes. She had heard the stories, the legends, of Peter the Great, the deputy federal marshal who had had ice water for blood, the man who could ride through a hailstorm of bullets and never break a sweat, the man who had the highest regard for the sanctity of everyone else’s life and absolutely no regard for his own.

“I have a high confidence that he’s behind it,” Peter’s voice was clipped.

“Peter, please be careful,” she begged him, reaching out to grip his arm, but he simply slipped his arm out of her grasp and walked calmly out of the room toward the back of the house. She turned her pleading eyes to her husband’s elder brother.

And Jarrod immediately reassured her, “Don’t worry, Sam, I’m going with him. I’ll make sure nothing happens.”

“Jarrod?” Eugene, as always, looked to his guardian for guidance.

“Stay here and take care of things. There’s still a possibility that Tom has just wandered off and someone will find him and bring him back,” even as he said the words, Jarrod knew it was highly unlikely. He turned to follow Peter, but hesitated when Barton burst through the front door.

“What’s happened? They said Sean came in and Peter immediately rushed out. Is the baby all right?” Peter’s partner demanded.

“It’s Tom; he’s missing,” Jarrod said shortly. “I’m going with Peter. Please stay here, Barton. Gene will explain.”

Jarrod found his brother in the stable, rapidly saddling his favorite horse. His groom, Sean, was standing helplessly to the side. The young man frowned at Jarrod and shrugged his shoulders. Jarrod took control, “Sean, would you help me saddle a horse. I’ll be going with my brother.”

“Yes, sir,” the young man was glad to have some direction. He had never seen his employer look so forbidding. Sean had wanted to offer to go with Mr. Peter but was almost afraid to utter a word. He was so relieved that Mr. Jarrod was here.

Sean brought out a brown gelding and quickly began to tack up the horse. Jarrod moved to the other side of the horse; and, between the two of them, they had the horse saddled by the time Peter had finished with his own horse. Peter swung up into the saddle effortlessly and just flicked his eyes over to his brother as Jarrod smoothly mounted. The younger brother didn’t murmur a word; he dug his heels into his horse’s sides and bolted from the barn.

Jarrod rode just off his brother’s left shoulder as they traveled across San Francisco from the affluent residential district to the business district. Not a word was exchanged between the brothers. Peter reined up his horse in front of a three-office building. He swung down smoothly and tied off his horse, never once looking at his older brother. Without looking at the sign beside the door, Jarrod knew this was the San Francisco office of the Coastal and Western. Peter walked into the building with confidence and Jarrod had no choice but to trail after him. His younger brother seemed calm, but Jarrod feared it was the calm before the storm. Peter’s temper was every bit as explosive as Nick’s. And his child was missing. His younger brother had to be holding on by a thread.

Jarrod wasn’t sure how his younger brother knew where Josiah Crowne’s office was; perhaps there had been a meeting here when Crowne was trying to get Peter to do business with him. His brother never hesitated as he walked directly to the office door. He pushed it open and just nodded at the secretary who sat in the outer office.

“Wait, sir,” she tried to stop them, but Peter just opened the door to the inner office and stepped in.

Over Peter’s shoulder, Jarrod could see Josiah Crowne sitting at his desk. The man’s head came up at the sound of the door opening and Jarrod watched as his expression changed from slight irritation at the interruption to absolute surprise.

“Ah, the brothers Barkley,” the businessman slowly stood. “What can I do for you?”

“Where’s my son?” Peter’s lips were tight as he spat out the words.

“Your son?” Crowne was frowning slightly.

“Yes, my son. My oldest son is missing,” Peter continued across the room.

Crowne scoffed, “I’m afraid I’m just the general manager of a railroad; I can’t be responsible for every child who has wandered off”

Peter never hesitated as he continued around the desk and grabbed the front of Crowne’s shirt with one hand as he brought his revolver up with the other hand and pressed the barrel against the general manager’s temple, “Don’t lie to me, Crowne. He didn’t wander off; he was stolen from his own yard. And, I figure you’re right at the top of the list of the people who would do something so cowardly.”

Crowne just stared into the cold blue eyes. He barely managed to sputter, “Stolen? He was kidnapped?”

“That’s right, Crowne, kidnapped this afternoon . . . as if you didn’t already know that,” Peter snarled. “And I want him back now.”

The other man was beginning to panic as the barrel of the gun continued to press against his temple, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Quit lying, Crowne, tell me where my son is,” the younger Barkley brother released the other man’s shirt and moved his forearm up to press against his throat.

“I don’t know,” Crowne gasped, struggling to draw a breath as the weight of Peter Barkley’s arm began to press his throat closed.

“You and that cur Hannibal Jordan are just the kind to use a little boy as a pawn in a business issue. Tell me, tell me now, where you’ve taken him or I swear to God that I will pull the trigger,” to emphasize his intent Peter cocked the gun.

Crowne’s eyes widened and he struggled to gasp out his denial, “I don’t know. I swear, I don’t know where your child is.”

“Liar,” Peter spat out the word. As his fury built, Peter began to feel his mind separating from his body. It was like when he was an angry young marshal, like when he was an angry young sailor, when he would calmly and cruelly take another man’s life. His body and mind would just separate. It was almost as if he were standing outside his own body, watching as this body, almost someone else’s body, did what had to be done. He knew he was slipping into that mode again and he could do nothing to stop himself. He knew he was going to kill Josiah Crowne.

And then he felt a hand on his shoulder and heard the deep voice, “Stop, Peter. He doesn’t know. Stop.”

His mind came flying back into his body. He didn’t lower the gun but he did shake his head and whisper, “What are you saying?”

Jarrod repeated, “He doesn’t know where Tom is. He doesn’t know anything about the kidnapping, Peter. Look into his eyes. He doesn’t know.”

Peter stared into the frightened eyes of the man he considered his nemesis. Slowly, he brought down the gun and took a faltering step back. Only Jarrod’s steadying arm kept him from tripping. Peter absently holstered his gun and then abruptly turned and dashed from the room.

Jarrod hesitated for a moment, looking back at the very frightened Josiah Crowne, “I’m sorry. We’re all very shaken by this. Please excuse my brother’s actions.”

Crowne numbly nodded his head, his eyes still wide with fright. Jarrod turned to follow his brother. He found Peter standing next to his horse, staring straight ahead.

“Peter,” Jarrod moved to stand beside his younger brother. When Peter didn’t respond, he reached out to touch his brother’s shoulder and repeated, “Peter.”

Peter turned his agonized eyes toward his big brother. “Jarrod, I don’t know where my child is.” He covered his chest with one hand and then closed his eyes and turned back to rest his forehead on his saddle.

Jarrod put a strong arm around the younger man’s shoulders and leaned close to whisper in his ear, “We’ll find him, Peter. We’ll find him.” But he knew his words offered little solace as a tear slipped from the corner of Peter’s tightly closed eye and trickled down his cheek.

Continued…