Old Flames

Chapters 38-42

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 38

There had been long nights in Jarrod Barkley’s life. The night following his father’s assassination had seemed interminable as he and Nick had sat together, alternating between trying to be strong and in control for Mother and the younger children and then allowing the feelings of total loss to encompass them. The night following Beth’s murder he had not slept either, ignoring the family’s attempts to comfort him, instead closeting himself in his bedroom and simply drinking and staring at the side of the bed that had already become hers.

And this was another long, long night.

In the years since Peter had been reunited with the family, Jarrod had never seen his younger brother look so lost, so bereft. The knowledge that he had no clue where his child was, who had little Tom, seemed to have robbed Peter of his always-visible self-confidence. Even Sam seemed to be holding on better than Peter. When the two brothers had returned to Peter’s home with the news that their first instincts had been wrong, that the railroad had no involvement in Tom’s disappearance, Sam had seemed more relieved that Peter hadn’t been hurt or hadn’t hurt anyone than she was upset at the realization that they had no clue where Tom was. It was as if she had known that finding Tom would not be so easy as Peter riding across town and confronting one man. Was this a mother’s instinct, Jarrod wondered.

When Peter had started a stumbling apology to her for not bringing Tom home, she had raised her small hand to his lips to stop his words. “It’s not your fault, Peter,” Samantha had said firmly. Then she had reached into the pocket of her dress and drawn out a rosary that she pressed into her husband’s hand. “You need to keep this with you, darling. You’re going to need to take time to pray. You must keep your heart open to God’s words.”

Peter had nodded and taken the rosary, but Jarrod didn’t think his brother looked as if he would be praying any time soon. There had been a quiet conversation with Judge Henderson, with the judge again offering to send for the chief of police. Peter murmured that it might frighten off the kidnapper. He added, “If we don’t hear anything by tomorrow morning then I’ll go to the police station myself.”

The family had been successful in parrying little Nicky’s questions about where Tom, his constant playmate, was. Gene had been the one to quickly concoct a story that Tom had to undergo some special testing in preparation for starting school the next fall. As always, Nicky had been put out that Tom was getting to do something that he wasn’t, but Gene and Becca Henderson, who had been summoned by her father, helped to divert the little boy by taking him out into the backyard to play. They, of course, never left him alone, and the young adults found themselves scanning the perimeter of the yard in hopes of seeing a suspicious person. Of course, all they saw were the neighbors going about their regular activities.

Inside the house, Christiana had taken over the care of little Lizzie V. holding an impromptu tea party in the back parlor while the rest of the family had gathered in the front parlor. There was no conversation. They all simply sat in chairs scattered around the room, avoiding each other’s eyes. All wanted to do something, but there seemed nothing that they could do. The kidnapper had all the power; they had to wait for his next move. Peter stared blankly off into space. Samantha sat beside him, one hand rested on his forearm, the other grasped her rosary. Occasionally, she would close her eyes and her lips would move in a silent prayer. Mother sat on the other side of Samantha. She would periodically reach over to pat Samantha’s arm, but mostly she just sat holding her kerchief to her mouth, as if she were trying to hold back her cries. Audra, sitting in the protective curl of Barton’s strong right arm, couldn’t stop her silent tears. Barton had long ago surrendered his handkerchief and now just leaned over to whisper in her ear and place a soft kiss on her hair.

Jarrod, finally, stood and walked to the decanters and poured himself a glass of scotch. He poured his mother a sherry and carried it to her. Her hand shook slightly as she accepted it, and he automatically put a strong arm around her shoulders and hugged her close. Jarrod then gently asked Peter and Barton if he could get them something. Peter just shook his head, but Barton nodded and softly replied, “bourbon.”

Those were about the only words said as the afternoon slowly slid into evening.

Samantha left several times to care for little Jehbbie and then joined Peter in the kitchen where they forced smiles and an upbeat attitude as they tried to cajole both Nicky and Lizzie V. to finish their suppers. But both their middle children knew that all was not right with their world. Little Lizzie eyes kept wandering to Tom’s vacant spot at the table, her little brow wrinkling. Nicky kept asking when Tom would be home. When his father finally answered that Tom probably wouldn’t be home until the next day, Nicky’s eyes had widened and he’d demanded to know “why.” Peter just said that was the way things had to be, which also did not satisfy the little boy. He kept arguing even as his grandmother helped him with his bath.

Dressed in their nightgowns he and Lizzie V. were allowed to come back downstairs for their nightly story. When Peter asked Nicky what kind of story he wanted that evening, the little boy just shrugged his shoulders and mumbled, “Don’t care.” Ordinarily, Nicky would have had an immediate preference and would have very vocally protested any suggestion that Tom would have made. Peter told a funny story about the time he crewed on a ship that was transporting a circus troupe from Italy to Spain. Any other time the story would have drawn giggles from his children and hearty laughs from any adults, but tonight there were just small smiles from the two children and forced laughs from the adults.

Tonight, too, Nicky refused to walk upstairs on his own. He clung to his father, so Peter carried both children to Lizzie’s bedroom where they said their evening prayers. Without Tom there to lead them, Nicky and Lizzie V. stumbled through the words. A frowning Lizzie V. was tucked into her bed with her customary kisses from both parents. Peter picked up the subdued Nicky and carried him across the hallway where he teasingly dropped the boy onto the bed. Again, the action brought none of the usual giggles. Instead, Nicky’s eyes began to glisten and his lower lip tremble.

“Oh, cherie,” Samantha carefully tucked the boy in and smoothed his dark locks before bending down to kiss his cheek. “What’s wrong, Nicky?”

The little boy sniffed and whispered, “Tom.”

Samantha exchanged a quick look with her husband and leaned down to place another kiss on the boy’s cheek, “We explained, Nicky. Tom has to be away for a time . . . getting ready for school this fall.”

“No one told me,” Nicky’s lip trembled harder.

It was Peter who answered, “I’m sorry, Nicky. We didn’t realize things would take this long. But Tom will be back soon.”

“Tonight?” Nick whispered hopefully.

Peter reached down to gently rub the boy’s head, “No, son, not tonight. Now you need to close your eyes and go to sleep. The time will pass faster if you’re sleeping.”

But Nicky’s eyes didn’t close; instead, they darted around the room. “Can’t,” he whispered.

“What’s wrong, cherie?” Samantha asked again.

“Tom always checks,” Nicky sniffed.

Samantha and Peter exchanged a look, and Samantha gently prodded, “Checks?”

Nicky nodded and a tear escaped and ran down his cheek, “He looks every night.”

“What does Tom look for?” Peter tried.

The little boy’s eyes flitted away from his parents toward the darken window, “He looks for scary things.”

“Scary things?” his father questioned.

Again Nicky nodded and then added, “Scary things . . . out the window . . . and under the bed.”

“Ohhh,” Peter drew the word out. “Well, since Tom’s not here, why don’t I look?”

“All right,” Nicky pressed his lips together and silently watched as his father checked out the window and then under the bed.

“No scary things,” Peter said solemnly.

“Wardrobe, too,” Nicky whispered.

Peter patiently walked to the boys’ wardrobe and opened the door. He repeated, “No scary things. It’s all right, Nicky, you can go to sleep. Nothing’s going to get you.”

“The little boy sighed, “Lonely.”

“Well,” his father leaned down to kiss him, “let’s have Mamma lie down here with you until you fall asleep.”

“Peter,” Samantha started to protest.

“Lie down with him, Sam,” Peter said firmly. “You need to get some rest, too.”

“I’m all right, Peter,” she argued.

Her husband’s tone softened, “Do this for Nicky, Sam. I know how scary it is to have to sleep by yourself when you’ve always shared your bed with a big brother. I would sneak in to sleep with Nick for months after we moved into the big house and I got my own bedroom.”

And because she could deny her sad little boy nothing, she climbed into the bed and curled around Nicky, “It’s all right, cherie. Mamma will stay with you. Now close your eyes and get a little sleep. Pappa has checked to be sure there are no scary things, so you should have only sweet dreams.”

Nicky snuggled against his mother and tightly closed his teary eyes. With just a few more sniffs and murmurs, he gave himself over to sleep. Peter leaned down to place one more kiss on his son’s forehead and then placed an identical kiss on his wife’s. “Sleep,” he encouraged her. “Jehbbie will be waking soon, wanting his late evening feeding. Maybe you can rest until then.”

She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears, “I don’t think I can. I keep wondering where Tom is tonight; how he is; if he’s safe; if he’s warm; if he had any supper.”

“Shh,” Peter leaned over to press his forehead against hers. “Just try to rest. If we’re lucky, we’ll get some sort of message tomorrow.”

“You don’t know that,” her chin trembled

“No, I don’t, but the odds are with us. We should be contacted tomorrow and then we’ll just do as they say and everything will be all right,” his voice was calm. “Now, rest, mon ami. It’s only been a few weeks since you had Jehbbie. You have to take care of yourself, cherie; you have the baby to think of.”

The family drifted around the house as the night deepened. Jarrod was stunned when Hester Converse arrived just as twilight was descending. She explained that Audra had sent word that it appeared that Tom had been kidnapped and that Hester would need to make excuses to Adam as to why the boys could not play together the next day. Jarrod escorted the distraught young woman upstairs to where Samantha, Christiana, and Audra sat together, Samantha quietly sobbing as she nursed little Jehbbie. Hester immediately knelt at Samantha’s side and whispered words of encouragement.

“I got Adam down for the night . . . I told him that I wouldn’t be home tomorrow morning and probably all of tomorrow, but that we would do something special the next day,” Hester concluded as she again hugged Samantha. “I’ll spend tonight and tomorrow here and will help keep the other children occupied. Maybe we can keep them from realizing what’s happened.”

Samantha put up a token protest, “Oh, Hester, are you sure you should be leaving Adam for so long? He’s so attached to you. This might cause a set back.”

“Adam will be fine,” Hester’s voice was firm. “He and I talked about it and he understands that there are some times that grownups . . . like Aunt Hester . . . have business that they have to take care of and little boys have to stay home and entertain themselves. I want to be here, Samantha. Please.”

The young mother’s eyes teared and she leaned forward to hug Hester again, “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Down the hall, a mentally exhausted Victoria had laid down on the bed in Lizzie V.’s room but found herself wide awake in just a few hours and got up to check on Nicky. She discovered Hester sitting with the restless little boy, the young woman’s fingers automatically guiding her crochet hook through the yarn.

“Hester,” the older woman leaned down to press her cheek against the younger’s. “How kind of you to come to be with us during this difficult time. Is Adam going to be all right with this?”

“He’ll be fine; I’ve explained to him that I needed to be away tonight and tomorrow. He’s getting stronger, really. I can see it,” Hester said confidently.

“Is Samantha with Jehbbie now?”

The younger woman nodded, “After she finished nursing him, Peter convinced her she needed to rest some. The only way she would do it is if Peter would lie down with her and Audra and I would watch over Nicky for her. She knew you were sleeping in Lizzie’s room and Christine said she would check on you and Lizzie. I sent Audra downstairs to be with Barton for a while. She’s going to spell me later.”

Victoria nodded as Hester ticked through the family, “How is Nicky doing?”

“He’s been awfully restless. He keeps scooting across the bed.”

“He’s missing Tom,” the little boy’s grandmother stifled her tears. “He’s not use to sleeping by himself. I know . . . the first year after Tom died . . . I often found myself on his side of the bed when I would wake up. In my sleep I was trying to get close to him; Nicky is doing the same thing.”

“Oh, poor baby,” Hester’s eyes teared up as she looked at the small boy who again twisted and turned restlessly.

“It might help if you lie down with him,” Victoria encouraged.

Hester nodded, “I know it helps Adam if I lie down with him after he’s had a nightmare. If you’ll sit with him for just a few minutes, I’ll go downstairs and tell Audra not to worry about spelling me. I’ll just sleep with Nicky.”

“All right, dear. While you’re downstairs, please tell Christiana that Lizzie V. and I are fine. Encourage her and Audra to try to get some rest. I know it’s difficult but everyone needs to try to rest tonight; we will all need our wits about ourselves to deal with whatever happens tomorrow.”

“I’ll tell them,” the young woman promised as she stood and set her handwork on the nightstand. “I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

“We’ll be fine,” Victoria sat down in the chair that Hester had vacated and reached out to stroke her grandson’s soft cheek. When the closing door marked Hester’s exit, she leaned closer to whisper, “It’s going to be all right, Nicky. We’re going to get your big brother back, honey. It’s going to be all right, sweetheart.”

But the little boy continued to whimper in his sleep.

* * * * * * * *

Christiana Wilson leaned her head against the garden trellis that stood on one of the paths in Samantha’s garden and stared out into the darkness. Hester had told her that Victoria said she would see to Lizzie V. tonight, to rest so that she could help with things tomorrow. But rest kept eluding her. Every time she closed her eyes, Samantha’s face swam into her sight, the green eyes, bright with tears, standing out in the pale face, the lower lip caught between her teeth. The pain, oh the terrible pain. A sob tore itself from Christiana’s throat and she covered her face with her hands.

The deep voice was just as gentle as the hands that gripped her arms, “Shh, Christiana, shh, it’s going to be all right. We’ll get him back.” Jarrod gathered the slender woman into his arms and pressed his cheek against her head. “Don’t cry, honey. We’ll get him back. There’s sure to be a ransom note tomorrow.”

She shook her head and sent tears flying.

“Please, honey, don’t cry,” he crooned to her. “Crying’s not going to help Tom or Sam or anyone else. We’ve got to be strong for them.”

“You don’t understand,” she gasped out as she buried her face against his shirt. “I . . . I . . . oh, God, . . . I feel so g . . . g . . . guilty.”

Jarrod winced; he knew exactly what she was thinking, “Shh, shh, shh. It’s not our fault.”

“Oh, Jarrod, I just keep thinking if we hadn’t, if we hadn’t, well, we would have been here much sooner . . . and . . . and . . . at least one of us might have been in the back yard with Tom or at least looking out the window . . . we might have been able to prevent this,” she sobbed.

“It’s not our fault,” Jarrod repeated, although he had thought the same thing himself. “I’ve checked from Peter and Samantha’s bedroom windows; you can’t see the place where Gene found the book. I think the kidnapper must have realized that, must have picked a place where no one in the house would be likely to see what was going on. We didn’t do anything wrong, Christiana.”

“It’s more than that,” she whispered. “I’ve been so awful.”

“That’s not true,” he thought he understood. “I pressured you into it. It’s my fault that we did what we did. I’m responsible.”

“No, no, not that. That’s not it at all. I’ve been so awful; I’ve been so envious of Samantha. She has this beautiful home, and all those darling children, and, and, most of all, she has a wonderful husband who adores her, who encourages her to have her own interests, her own life, her independence but who’s always there for her. He makes sure that there’s a roof over their heads and food on the table. He takes responsibility for their family but he doesn’t act like he owns her. I know envy is a sin, but I haven’t been able to stop myself. And, now, now, she’s having to face this terrible, terrible thing . . . and . . . and . . . somehow I think if I hadn’t been so envious of her . . . that, maybe, somehow, she wouldn’t be facing this.”

“Oh, Christiana,” Jarrod hugged her closer. “You have nothing to do with what happened here. You envying Samantha, me envying Peter, none of that led to Tom being kidnapped.”

She sniffed and whispered, “You envy Peter?”

“Of course, I do. He has everything that I want, a beautiful wife who’s also spirited and intelligent and not afraid to be herself, and four incredible children who just amaze me every time that I see them,” he made the admission easily.

“But, but, you’re so successful and . . . and . . . and you’re so important to your family . . . and all your friends,” she stuttered.

“But none of that replaces having a family of my own, a wife and children of my own to love and cherish,” Jarrod’s smooth baritone blended with the night air. “Surely you and Allen talked about having a family.”

“Children would have been inconvenient,” the words came out flat. She felt Jarrod start and then lean back from her. She forced herself to raise her eyes to his face and the look of shock there made her flush. “Allen’s words,” she whispered. “He told me that on our wedding night, that children would be inconvenient, would spoil his plans, would just get in the way. It was my responsibility to ensure there weren’t any children. I was to go to the doctor the next day and learn what I needed to know, get what was needed to prevent conception.”

Jarrod’s eyes softened as his heart went out to her, “But you wanted children?”

She dropped her eyes and leaned against him, “I think every woman dreams of the day she’ll have a baby. I guess that’s why we love to play with dolls when we’re growing up . . . just that mothering instinct.”

“I’m so sorry,” his arms tightened around her.

“I kept thinking that he would change his mind, that he would get use to being married, to having a wife, and then he would want to take the next step, to have a child,” she raised a hand to wipe her eyes. “But it never changed. I always knew when . . . when . . . we were going to . . . when Allen would want to. As we were getting ready to go to bed, he would just tell me that I needed to take precautions. It was all so cold. It got where I hated to hear those words. Of course, then he got sick and we stopped all such . . . such relations.”

“I see,” Jarrod carefully modulated his voice as he tried hard to put the image of Christiana with another man out of his mind. She had been married; she, of course, had been with her husband. But now he realized how very difficult it had been for her.

“You know, and I know this sounds so silly, but one of the things I appreciated most about you was the way you took responsibility,” she couldn’t look up at him when she made this strange confession. “Today, when you said you had brought the preventatives, when you didn’t expect me to be the one to ensure that nothing . . . nothing unfortunate happened. Oh, I’m saying this all wrong. It’s just that it touched me so that you would be so considerate, so concerned, and that you would take care of things. It just seemed as if all the responsibility always rested on my shoulders. All of it, managing our schedule, our supplies, our accommodations, our money even, and then I was to be sure that there were no ‘inconvenient’ children. And, today, it wasn’t my responsibility. Today, someone else took care of everything. Oh, I know this sounds ridiculous. I can’t explain it right.”

“Shh, shh, I understand,” Jarrod pressed her lips against her forehead. “I do, really, I do. I’m just so sorry for all you have had to endure.”

“Oh, please, Jarrod. I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. This is ridiculous; I’m thinking of myself when Samantha is going through a nightmare,” she pushed herself away from him.

“Christiana,” he caught her arm and pulled her back into his embrace. “It’s all right for you to think of yourself. We’re all going through this nightmare. Now, you’re exhausted . . . physically and mentally. You need to come inside and try to get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a hard day for us all. Or do you want me to take you home?”

“No, no, I need to be here, to help Samantha. And you can’t leave; your family needs you here. I’ll be all right, Jarrod. I promise,” she raised her chin resolutely.

“I know you will be, but it’s all right to lean on me just a little tonight,” he kept his arm around her as he turned her toward the house and urged her forward.

She just nodded and allowed him to guide her inside and to the back parlor. They sat together on the settee, his arm firmly wrapped around her shoulders. After a time, she relaxed enough to lean against him and then to close her eyes. Jarrod actually felt it as sleep claimed her, her breath slowing, her muscles unknotting. He carefully tucked her head under his chin and closed his eyes, allowing her steady breathing to sooth him. He must have dozed off, but a creaking floorboard caused his eyes to snap open. He stretched the boundaries of his hearing and he heard footsteps head down the stairs and across the foyer. Concerned, he carefully shifted Christiana and laid her down on the settee. He hesitated only a moment to carefully cover her with a throw and place a soft kiss on her forehead.

Quietly, he walked toward the entry. He automatically glanced into the front parlor and saw that Audra was still on the settee, having fallen asleep in Barton’s arms. Across the room, Gene lay sprawled in a chair, his soft snores the only sound in the room. However, as he hesitated in the doorway, Barton’s head turned.

“Jarrod?” Audra’s fiancé whispered.

“Yes.”

“Peter just went past; I think he’s gone into his office. Let me wake Audra and get her to go on upstairs to bed and I’ll go with you to sit with him.”

Jarrod came closer and reached out to stroke his little sister’s cheek, “Has she been asleep long?”

Barton shook his head, “Not long. Cried herself to sleep. She blames herself, says if she hadn’t been working on her plans for the wedding she could have been outside with Tom.”

A wry smile twisted Jarrod’s mouth. It seemed as if they all were trying to assume some portion of blame for what had happened today. “Don’t wake her, just stay here. I’ll check on Peter. Has Gene been sleeping long?”

“No, he just fell asleep a little while ago. He and I talked after Audra fell asleep. He’s feeling some guilt, too, that he should have come by earlier, that he should have gone directly outside to be with Tom. There’s just so many ‘if only’s’, Jarrod.”

Jarrod rubbed a hand over his tired eyes, “I know, I know. Look, just keep an eye on them both for me, will you? I know they’re both upset. I would rather they not distress Mother any more than she already is. I’m going to go check on Pete.”

“All right,” Barton whispered. “If you need me, come get me.”

“Same here.”

Jarrod gave Audra’s cheek one more soft caress and then walked over to where Gene was sleeping and gently patted his youngest brother’s shoulder. The boy mumbled in his sleep but didn’t rouse. Jarrod nodded at Barton once more and then headed for Peter’s office. A lamp’s soft glow spilling through the doorway beckoned Jarrod. He walked to the doorway and then hesitated, leaning against the doorjamb. He was reassured to see Peter was just sitting at his desk, a drink resting near his left hand while his right hand slowly turned the pages of a large book.

“Hey,” Jarrod said the word softly, hoping not to startle his brother.

But Peter just raised his head and offered his brother a small, quick smile, “Hey, Pappy. Sorry if I woke you.”

“That’s all right. How’s Sam?”

“Resting. Finally. But I couldn’t sleep. I was afraid my tossing and turning would wake her.”

“So, you’re down here trying to do some work?”

Peter slowly shook his head and let his eyes drift back down to the book in front of him, “Nah, work would be impossible. This . . . this is an album . . . a photograph album that Sam keeps up.” He turned the pages and let his fingers linger over the photograph on the open page.

Jarrod took a few steps into the room and leaned forward to look at the picture. Despite the tension, the pain of the day, a small smile curved his lips. It was Peter and Samantha’s wedding picture. “You both look so young,” he moved closer and placed a gentle hand on Peter’s shoulder.

“It’ll be seven years ago come this August. Guess we have changed a little.”

“A little,” the older brother agreed, thinking that while Peter had changed only a little – mainly putting on a little weight – Samantha looked like little more than a school girl. He shifted closer as Peter turned the page to reveal another picture of the young couple.

“Is that Notre Dame?” Jarrod asked.

“Uh-huh, it’s our first trip to Paris during our honeymoon,” Peter’s fingers gently touched the picture. “You know, this is our first picture of Tom.”

“Hmm?” his brother murmured in confusion.

Peter’s fingers moved down to caress his wife’s figure, “We’d just found out that Sam was carrying him. You can’t tell it in this picture, but there, deep inside her body, is our beautiful little baby.” Peter’s voice caught and he gritted his teeth to hold back the sob.

Jarrod gripped his brother’s shoulder, “It’s all right, Pete. We’re gonna get him back.”

“I know, I know,” the younger brother struggled. “It’s just that . . . sometimes . . . it feels like I’ve just got this huge hole in my chest. And I can’t seem to get my breath.” He brought his right hand up to press against his rib cage.

“I know it’s upsetting, but we have to keep thinking positively,” Jarrod encouraged. “We’ll get a ransom note, we’ll pay the ransom, and they’ll give us Tom back.”

Peter managed a nod but then he whispered, “I just keep thinking how scared he must be, Jarrod. He’s just a little boy. The only time he’s been away from his mamma overnight were those couple of days when Sam left him and Nicky here in San Francisco with their nurse and came to Stockton to find me and then ended up having Lizzie V. He’s got to be so frightened tonight; not being able to be there to take care of him just tears my insides up.”

“I’m sorry, Peter. I wish I could make it easier for you.”

“That’s the thing, Jarrod. Maybe it’s not supposed to be easy for me. Maybe this is my penance for all the pain that I caused Mother and Father.”

“Oh, Petey, don’t think that,” Jarrod pressed.

“I can’t help but think it, Jarrod. I’m a parent; I know how I would hurt if one of my children ran away; I know how much I hurt Mother and Father. And now, little Tom is having to endure so much and I feel like it’s my fault again.”

“Petey, you can’t waste your energy beating yourself up for something you did when you were a child, something that I’m sure has nothing to do with Tom being kidnapped,” the older brother insisted. “You’re going to need that energy tomorrow to deal with what we have to do next. Tell you what, let’s look through this photograph album together and you tell me the story behind the photographs. That’ll give us something positive to talk about.”

For a moment, Jarrod thought that Peter was going to refuse his request, but then his younger brother reached out to turn a page and began to tell the story about Samantha’s cousins with whom they visited during their honeymoon.

Chapter 39

The dark of the night had slowly lightened outside the window of Peter’s office as the two brothers had talked, first about the photograph album, then about Peter’s children, and then about their own childhoods. Barton had come to the door some time in the early dawn, saying he was going to his home to change and then would stop by the bank for a time to be sure everything was under control there. Peter had gone upstairs to change clothes. When he returned, he reported to Jarrod that Samantha had awaken and fed Jehbbie and said she would dress and come downstairs soon. Peter handed Jarrod a clean shirt and his straight razor. Jarrod made use of both and then woke Gene and sent him off to also get cleaned up. He then gently woke Audra and she clung to him for a few minutes. “I was so hoping it was all just a bad dream, but it’s not, is it, Jarrod?” He comforted her and then urged her to go upstairs and get ready for the hard day ahead.

Only then did he go into the back parlor and place a hand lightly on Christiana’s shoulder. “Christiana, darling,” he whispered, “it’s time to wake up.”

Her eyelids fluttered and then slowly opened. For a moment she frowned in confusion and then the memories came rushing back and her eyes softened and her lips trembled, “Oh, Jarrod.”

“I know, darling,” Jarrod gathered her into his arms and shifted her so that he was sitting beside her.

“Oh, my God,” her voice quivered.

“Shhh, it’s going to be all right,” he tried to sound as positive as possible. “Peter is sure we will get a ransom note today. Maybe by tonight we’ll have our little boy back.”

“How’s Peter . . . and Samantha?”

Jarrod’s assurance slipped a little, “I’m not sure. I mean I haven’t seen Samantha, but apparently she slept most of the night. She’s able to take care of Jehbbie. Having to care for him may be a blessing . . . and the fact she’s just recovering from his birth is probably forcing her to sleep. Peter didn’t sleep at all last night. He and I sat up all night talking in his office. I think he’s barely holding on.”

“”Oh, Jarrod,” Christiana repeated and leaned against him. “It’s all so terrible.”

“I know,” he gently patted her back. “Umm, look, Audra just went upstairs to her room to get ready for the day. She said for you to come on up. She’ll bring your dress downstairs and press it for you while you freshen up.”

For a moment Christiana didn’t answer and when she did it was with a hint of irony, “I guess she can help me with my buttons.”

Despite the pain surrounding them, a dry chuckle escaped as he answered, “I suppose so.”

“It’s not at all the way I expected last night and this morning to be when I picked out this dress yesterday afternoon,” she boldly admitted.

“Me neither,” and the sense of regret was evident in his voice. Then with some resolve he urged, “Go on upstairs, darling, we’ll talk over breakfast.”

“All right,” she slowly stood and flexed her shoulders to drive away the aches and knots from sleeping curled on the small settee. “I’ll dress but then I may see if I can spell Hester for a bit and look after Nicky so she’ll have a chance to clean up, too.”

“Sounds like a good idea. Peter said that the last time he checked Hester was sleeping with Nicky. Apparently, Nicky isn’t used to sleeping by himself . . . Tom has always been there for him.”

“If you sat up all night with Peter, then you must be exhausted. You should try to get some sleep today,” a need to care for him suddenly rising inside of her.

“I’ll sleep when Peter does.”

His reply was a little short but she understood perfectly. He was Pappy. He had to be there for his younger brother. “Promise me you’ll do just that,” she stood on her tiptoes to brush a kiss on his cheek, “and I promise I won’t nag you about resting.”

He wrapped an arm around her and held her close and then bent to kiss her lips, “I promise.”

She accepted his soft kiss and then leaned in to hug him close. After a few moments she pulled away and gave him a brave smile. Jarrod nodded at her; they would be strong for the family today.

Jarrod headed back to Peter’s office, where he found his younger brother drinking coffee and pretending to look at his newspaper. Jarrod poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down across from Peter. Some time during the night they had agreed that if they hadn’t heard anything by 10, then they would go to the police station together and report the kidnapping. Now they discussed other actions they might take, hiring private detectives to help search for little Tom, going to the newspapers, posting a reward. The shout from the front of the house startled them both. They jumped to their feet and started toward the door but were met at the office doorway by an obviously agitated Barton and a very nervous older man dressed in work clothes.

“Barton? Mr. McAndrews?” Peter looked from one to the other.

Barton extended a sack toward Peter, “This was dropped outside the bank’s back entrance sometime last night.”

As Peter took the sack and slowly opened it, the older man began to babble, “I’m so sorry, Mr. Barkley. I never seen who left the sack. It must have been dropped by the back door of the bank sometime 'tween 5 and when Mr. Stievers come to the bank. I did my walk around at 5 and there weren’t nothing there. I never heard nothing, Mr. Barkley, I swear.”

“It’s all right, Mr. McAndrews,” Peter said absently as he slowly pulled a crumpled piece of paper out. “I believe you. I know you do a good job of guarding the bank. Who’s at the bank now?”

“Fletcher came in right behind me,” Barton assured his partner. “He’s taking care of everything. Mr. McAndrews wanted to come with me, to be sure that you understood he saw nothing.”

“Nothing, nothing at all, Mr. Barkley. Didn’t see nothing; didn’t hear nothing. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know the little one was missing. I’m so, so sorry,” the old man nervously crumpled his hat in his hands.

Jarrod realized then that this must be the bank’s night watchman. He was surprised when his younger brother looked up from the crumpled piece of paper and actually made the effort to comfort the old man, “Really, George, it’s all right. We hadn’t said anything to anyone because we didn’t want to scare off the kidnapper. I’m sure he was very careful when he slipped up to the bank and left this outside. Thank you for coming with Mr. Stievers to bring it to me.”

“Peter,” Jarrod reached out to place a strong hand on his brother’s shoulder. “What’s the note say?”

Peter swallowed hard and managed to keep his voice level, “Just what you’d expect. ‘If you want to see your son alive again, bring fifty thousand dollars to the corner of Pacific and Kearny at 6 this evening. Come alone, unarmed. No police or else.’”

The words swirled around the group of men. Gene arrived in the doorway at that moment. “What is it?” his eyes moved around the circle.

“It’s the ransom note,” Jarrod said quickly, the word leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

Gene let out a slow sigh, “Well, I guess that’s good. I mean, now we know for sure. It was a kidnapping for money. What do we have to do?”

“Fifty thousand and I’m to take it down to the Barbary coast area tonight at 6,” Peter said tersely and then added. “This wasn’t a random snatch. They knew enough about me to leave the note at the bank.”

“Is there anything else in the sack?” Gene asked.

“There’s a little boy’s shirt,” Barton hesitantly volunteered. “I assumed it was Tom’s.”

Biting his lip, Peter turned back toward his desk and slowly poured the contents of the bag onto its surface. He gently fingered the blue gingham shirt. “It’s Tom’s,” he said flatly. “It’s what he was wearing yesterday morning when I saw him at breakfast.”

“What are those brown marks?” Gene also reached out to touch the shirt.

Peter closed his eyes and pressed his lips tightly together and it fell to Jarrod to explain, “It’s blood.”

“Oh, God,” Gene whispered and then forced an upbeat attitude. “Well, it’s not that much blood. It could just be from a nosebleed . . . or it might not even be his blood. The kidnapper might just be trying to scare us.”

“He’s doing a hell of a job of it,” Barton murmured.

Peter picked up the little garment, almost reverently touching the small streaks of brown. As his fingers ran over the small chest pocket, he frowned. He reached in to pull out the small object that had been tucked there. As soon as he realized what it was, he dropped it on the desk and took a quick step back. “Oh, God,” he just managed the strangled cry as he bumped into Jarrod.

Jarrod put an arm around his brother to help steady him and automatically looked down at the desktop. What he saw there turned his blood cold. “Oh, dear God.”

Barton’s eyes were wide and his face white and the night watchman just kept murmuring, “Oh, Lordy, Lordy.”

Only Gene was able to shake off the shock. He stepped closer and actually reached out to touch the object. “It’s a finger, all right,” he said calmly, “but it’s not Tom’s.”

Peter tore his eyes from the gruesome sight to stare at his youngest brother, “What?”

“It’s too big to be Tom’s,” Gene straightened. “I think it’s a woman’s little finger.”

“Are you sure?” Jarrod continued to stare at the crudely amputated appendage.

“Yes,” Gene nodded. “The fingernail, it’s well manicured, too large for a child’s. The finger is definitely not Tom’s. I’ve held his hand too many times. I know how big his hand is.”

“Gene’s right,” Peter whispered. “Tom likes to compare his hand size to mine. This finger is bigger than any of his.”

“What’s going on?” the voice made the group of men turn as one toward the door. Gene had the presence of mind to quickly cover the macabre image with his hand.

Samantha stepped into the room, her eyes quickly scanning the faces of the five men. “What’s going on?” she repeated.

“We got the ransom note,” Peter said quickly, putting a hand out to grasp his wife’s arm.

“Where? When? What does it say?” the words tumbled out.

“It was dropped off at the bank early this morning. Barton and Mr. McAndrews brought it to us,” Peter calmly recited. “The note says for me to take fifty thousand dollars to a place along the Barbary Coast.”

“And we’ll get Tom back then?”

“I’m sure we’ll get directions on where we can find him or they’ll drop him off some place with instructions on how to get in touch with us or they’ll stick him in a hack and give the driver our address,” he went through the logical conclusions to this nightmare. “We’re going to get him back, Sam.”

“And, you’re sure these are the people who have him?” she demanded.

Her husband reached behind himself and picked up the little shirt, “I think this is Tom’s shirt, isn’t it?”

Samantha gasped and put a hand to her mouth as her eyes filled with tears but then she reached out to take the garment from her husband, “It’s his. I always love this shirt on him; it brings out the blue in his eyes so.” She brought the shirt up to her cheek for a moment and closed her eyes and tried to inhale the smell of her eldest. It wasn’t until she opened her eyes and carefully began to fold the shirt that she saw the brown smears. “Oh, Peter, there’s blood.”

“We don’t think it’s Tom’s,” Peter said quickly. “We think it was smeared on his shirt just to try to frighten us, to be sure we do exactly what they tell us.”

She closed her eyes and gathered her emotions in. After a few moments, she took a deep breath and forced herself to open her eyes and survey the group of very worried men. She wanted to smile and assure them that she was all right – in fact, she started to do just that – but then she saw something else in their eyes, something that they all were hiding from her. “What else?” her voice was strong as she demanded.

“There’s nothing else,” Jarrod said hastily. “Would you like to see the note?”

“There is something . . . and you’re not telling me because you’re afraid it will upset me,” she could almost read her husband’s thoughts.

“Sam, it’s really nothing. The kidnappers are just trying to frighten us, but it doesn’t really mean anything,” Peter tried to sooth her.

But young Mrs. Barkley was not to be soothed by gentle words and pats on the shoulder. “It must mean something or you wouldn’t be afraid to tell me,” her eyes surveyed the group and settled on her youngest brother-in-law. “What are you hiding, Gene?”

“It’s not important, Sam,” Gene evaded. “They’re just trying to scare us.”

“What is it?” she demanded and step closer to him.

“Please, Sam, just don’t worry about it,” Peter put a restraining hand on his wife’s arm which she shook off.

Her fingers reached to grab Gene’s hand, to try to pry it off the desk, but Gene was firm, “No, Sam. There’s no reason for you to see this. It’ll just upset you.”

“What is it?!”

Peter sighed heavily; he knew she wouldn’t let it lie. He struggled to think of the best way to phrase it so she wouldn’t panic instantly, “Listen to me, Sam. The first thing I want you to know is it isn’t Tom’s.”

“What isn’t Tom’s?” her eyes flashed.

“In the pocket of his shirt, the kidnapper put something to scare us but it’s not Tom’s.”

“You said that,” she said tersely. “Now what is it?”

Her husband took a deep breath and glanced up at Jarrod hoping his big brother would think he was doing the right thing. Jarrod just gave him a slight shrug of his shoulders. Who knew what was right?

“Peter,” Samantha, uncharacteristically, barked at her husband.

“Sam, just remember that it’s not Tom’s and this was done to frighten us,” Peter hesitated but his wife’s tight-lipped glare forced him on. “There was a finger in Tom’s pocket.”

She just stared at him for a moment and then she frowned, “What?”

He knew she was trying to imagine the unimaginable. “There was an amputated finger in his pocket. Gene thinks it’s a woman’s little finger. Just remember it’s not Tom’s.”

“A finger?” she whispered. “An amputated finger.”

“That’s right, but it’s not Tom’s. It was done to frighten us,” Peter repeated again.

Her eyes locked on Gene’s hand as if she were trying to see through his skin to what lay beneath. Her breathing became faster and she placed a shaky hand to her mouth. She moaned, “Oh, my God.”

“Sam, listen to me, it’s not Tom’s, it’s not Tom’s,” Peter put a hand on Samantha’s shoulder and gently shook.

But she didn’t seem to hear him, “Oh, my baby, my poor baby.”

“Sam, listen, it’s not our Tom’s. Tom’s fine, I’m sure,” Peter tried again.

Jarrod added, “Samantha, Peter’s right. Tom’s just fine; this was just done to scare us.”

But her eyes had now filled with tears and she began to shake her head and back away from the desk, “Oh, no, no, no.”

“Easy, Sam, honey, you’ve got to stay focused on that it’s not Tom’s finger. It’s going to be all right,” Peter tried to take her into his arms.

Her tears were flowing freely now and she began to beat on her husband’s chest with her small fists, “No, no, no. Don’t you understand? My poor, poor baby. What kind of monsters has my baby? What have they done to my baby?”

Her words ended in a wail and her knees gave out. She would have crumpled to the floor except that Peter caught her, “Sam, honey, please. You need to be strong now.”

“No-o-o-o,” it was little more than a moan. “My baby. I want my baby.”

“Shhh, honey, we’re going to get him back. We’ll pay the ransom and they’ll give him back to us,” he tried to stop her downward spiral.

“My baby, my baby, monsters have my baby,” she refused to listen to him.

Jarrod watched helplessly as his sister-in-law disintegrated and his younger brother struggled to control his own emotions. He watched as Peter’s jaw tightened and then as he reached down to sweep his wife up in his arms. Peter’s pain-filled eyes swept the group of men and he began to croon to his wife as he carried her from the room.

The shoulders of all the remaining men slumped. “Oh, dear God,” Barton was the first to speak. “I thought that getting the ransom note was a good sign. I never thought to check the shirt before I brought the sack in. I just figured that including the shirt was the kidnapper’s way of letting us know that he had Tom.”

“It’s not your fault, Barton,” Jarrod whispered. “None of us could be expected to imagine that the kidnappers would have done something so vile.”

Gene slowly removed his hand and leaned down to study the finger once again. “It’s obviously a recent amputation; I would guess sometime last night.” He took out his handkerchief and carefully wrapped the object. “I guess we should save this until we get Tom back . . . in case we need to take it to the police later.”

“I suppose,” Jarrod couldn’t keep the disgust out of his voice. Unfortunately, it appeared that Samantha was right. Monsters had Tom; who but monsters would have cut off a woman’s finger?

“I’ll take care of it,” Gene said gently. “No one else will see it.”

“No one else will see what?” again the men’s heads snapped toward the doorway.

Victoria Barkley’s eyes moved across the group and settled on her eldest, “Jarrod, what has happened? Samantha’s hysterical. Have we heard . . . is there something we’ve learned . . . is Tom, is Tom . . . ?”

Jarrod’s voice was incredibly calm, “We’ve gotten the ransom note; we think Tom’s fine. The kidnappers did do a few things to try to scare us . . . there’s blood on Tom’s shirt, but we don’t think it’s his, however.”

Victoria nodded her head as she listened to her son’s words but she knew, “What aren’t you telling me? Samantha is crying that monsters have her child. Why is she saying that? What has upset her so?”

Jarrod’s eyes slipped away from hers. He did not want to have to tell this, but he wasn’t sure how to satisfy his mother’s need to know. Finally, he tried Peter’s approach, “All right, but I want you to know, first, that it wasn’t Tom’s.”

“Wasn’t Tom’s?” she was just as confused as Samantha had been.

“Yes,” Jarrod reached out to grasp her arms. “That’s the important thing to remember. It wasn’t Tom’s.” She slowly nodded her head, her gray eyes fastened on his. Jarrod regrettably continued, “In the pocket of Tom’s shirt, the kidnappers placed a woman’s finger.”

Her eyes widened in shock, and she raised a shaky hand to her mouth to smother the cry that slipped out. Tears welled up in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. Jarrod drew her into his embrace and Gene moved closer to gently pat her shoulder.

“We have to be strong for Samantha, Mother,” Jarrod encouraged. “She’s so frightened. We have to reassure her that, while this is very terrifying, it was done just to ensure that we did exactly what the kidnappers asked. We’re going to do just that and we’re going to get our Tom back.”

“I know,” she whispered against his chest. “I know we have to be calm . . . for Samantha . . . for Peter . . . for the other children . . . but it’s just so awful. Samantha is right; monsters have little Tom. Oh, dear Lord, what has he seen; what have they done to him?”

“Mother,” Gene answered, “we don’t know if Tom has seen anything. He’s probably just fine. Maybe a little scared because he’s been away from his family overnight, but I’m sure they haven’t hurt him.”

“You don’t know that,” there was anger in her whisper.

“Of course, I don’t,” he easily admitted, “but I don’t think that the kidnappers want a hysterical child on their hands. That would call attention to them. They probably are taking very good care of him.”

“Probably,” she murmured, her tone filled with doubt.

“I believe that,” Gene said firmly. “I have to, to get through today. I have to, so I can help Sam and Pete get through today.”

It was a few moments before she was able to stop her tears and square her shoulders, but when Victoria Barkley pushed herself back from her eldest son’s chest the resolve was there. She would be calm; she would be strong; and she would hold firmly onto her belief that her grandson was fine and would be returned to his family this very evening. “I’m going upstairs,” she announced. “I’ll check on Peter and Samantha and then help with Nicky and Lizzie V. You boys help your brother arrange for the ransom.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jarrod nodded and leaned down to kiss her forehead.

“Sure, Ma,” Gene pressed his lips to her cheek.

“We’ll take care of everything, Victoria,” Barton promised.

The four men watched silently as she swept from the room. Barton was the first to shake himself from his thoughts, “Mr. McAndrews, let me take you back to the kitchen and ask Senora Carlotta to fix you some breakfast.”

“No, sir, there’s no need,” the old man shook his head. “I ain’t very hungry right now.”

“Well, at least some coffee,” he put a gentle arm around the night watchman’s shoulder and guided him from the room.

Jarrod and Gene stood together for several long moments. Gene suddenly remembered the handkerchief-wrapped object in his hand. “I guess I should figure out some place to hide this for now,” he said.

“That’d probably be a good idea,” Jarrod nodded. “Maybe out in the stables somewhere. I don’t think in the house is a good idea . . . or any place that Nicky might find it.”

“Sure,” Gene agreed, but made no effort to move. “I guess you and Peter and Barton need to talk about getting the ransom money together.”

“I’ll do that . . . when Peter comes back downstairs. Right now, he needs to be with Sam.”

“Yeah,” the youngest brother let out a slow sigh. “I . . . .”

A thunderous series of knocks on the front door made both brothers jump. Jarrod gave Gene an almost panicked look, “Good God, what now?”

Chapter 40

The pounding on the front door continued as the eldest and youngest Barkley brothers hurried toward the foyer. Before they could reach the entry, however, the massive door swung open and a dusty Nick Barkley, with his equally as dusty younger brother Heath right on his shoulder, stepped through.

“Nick?” Jarrod was stunned. “Heath? When . . . I mean, how . . . I mean . . . ?”

“Audra sent a telegram that we got late yesterday afternoon that said Tom had been kidnapped. Heath and I rode all night to get here. Have you got him back? Have you heard anything?” Nick’s hazel eyes bore into his older brother.

“We got a ransom note this morning. It was dropped off outside the bank. Peter’s to take the money down to the waterfront this evening. We’re all hoping that they’ll just let Tom go then,” Jarrod’s voice was clipped as he brought his younger brothers up to date.

“What else?” Heath heard the hesitation in Jarrod’s voice; saw the stoniness in Gene’s face.

Jarrod’s jaw tightened slightly and then he said softly, through tight lips, “To frighten us, the kidnappers put the amputated finger of a woman in the pocket of Tom’s shirt.”

Nick paled, “What?”

“Oh, Lord,” Heath whispered. “How are Pete and Sam doing?”

“Samantha was doing pretty good, considering, until she found out about the finger,” the eldest brother related. “She’s, understandably, very, very upset – very frightened about what kind of people has her child. Peter’s holding on . . . but just barely. He didn’t sleep at all last night. He told me, he told me . . . ,” Jarrod hesitated for a moment and then confided, “he told me that he was afraid that this was his punishment for running away from home . . . for causing Mother and Father so much pain.”

“No,” Nick’s voice was so pained that it made Heath’s own heart ache. “Did you tell him that things don’t work that way . . . that Tom being kidnapped has nothing to do with him running away from home?”

“I told him,” Jarrod swore, “but I’m not sure . . . .”

“Jarrod,” Peter’s voice called out from the upstairs. “I heard knocking. What is it?” He was halfway down the stairs when he realized who was standing just inside the doorway. He stopped dead in his tracks, frowning deeply, “Nicky?”

“Hey, Petey,” Nick’s voice was gentle. “How you holding up, squirt?”

Peter slowly shook his head and his voice was filled with confusion, “Nicky? How’d you know?”

“Audra telegraphed us. Heath and I took off as soon as we got the telegram.”

Peter walked the rest of the way down the stairs and stopped a few feet from his brothers. He awkwardly placed his hands on his hips, “You came?”

“Of course we came,” Nick replied. “And we’re gonna be here until we get our boy back.”

His younger brother shifted uneasily, “I just didn’t think, well, you’ve always got so much going on at the ranch, and, well, the way things are between us. I mean, I didn’t tell you about Sam . . . or about Hester. I . . . I . . . I haven’t been a very good brother to you . . . and . . . and . . . well, I just didn’t think, that, well, that you’d, you’d come.”

Nick stepped across the space separating him from his younger brother and cupped Peter’s neck with one hand and tapped his chest with the index finger of the other hand, “You listen to me, squirt. You did what Sam asked; she didn’t want to worry the family. And you didn’t tell me about Hester ‘cause you thought you’d be sparing me some kind of hurt. You’ve done nothing wrong. And, well, as far as how things are between you and me; well, you and me always are gonna be arguing and pushing at each other ‘cause that’s what we’ve always done. That’s probably never gonna change. But we both know that if one of us needs something, the other one’s gonna be right there. I’m right, aren’t I?”

Peter slowly nodded his head and whispered, “Yeah, you’re right.” His voice caught and he ran a hand over his tired eyes. He took a deep breath and raised his red-rimmed blue eyes to look into his big brother’s gentle hazel ones, “Nicky, they’ve got my baby.”

“I know, Petey,” Nick pulled his little brother against his chest and wrapped his strong arms around him. “But we’re gonna get him back, Petey.”

Peter buried his face into his brother’s neck and his hands went up to fist themselves in Nick’s shirt. His shoulders shook and he barely managed a ragged whisper, “What if I never see him again, Nicky? What if I never see my son again?”

“Shh, shh,” Nick patted his brother’s back. “That’s not gonna happen. We’re gonna get him back. You’re gonna see him again.”

“Father never saw me again,” and the undeniable truth stung them all.

Nick was the first to recover, “There’s a hell of a lot of difference between you running away and Tom being kidnapped. Shoot, you were a not-too-smart 14-year-old who was determined not to let Father find you and you did a hell of a job accomplishing that by running off to sea. Tom’s a smart 6-year-old and all he’s gonna want to do is to get back home. And, on top of that, there was only Father to hunt for you. There’s all of us to look for Tom and we’re not gonna give up until we find him. You hear me? We’re not gonna give up.”

Peter continued to press his face into Nick’s neck but he slowly nodded his head, acknowledging that he had heard and understood. Jarrod stepped closer and gently patted Peter’s shoulder and leaned closer to whisper in his little brother’s ear, “Nick’s right. We’re not going to give up until we have Tom back safe and sound.”

Further encouragement, however, was cut off by the sweet voice of a small boy, “Uncle Nick! Uncle Heath!”

Heath caught little Nicky as he came bounding off the stairs, “Hey, there, cowboy!”

“Hi, Uncle Heath! Did you come to visit us again? Will you play with me? You and Uncle Nick?” the little boy demanded.

“Course we will, Nicky,” Heath gave the boy a toss in the air to distract him while Peter stepped away from Nick and turned and wiped the tears from his eyes.

Nick would surrender his care of Peter to only one person – Pappy. And Jarrod gave Nick a firm nod as he placed a protective arm around Peter’s shoulders. Nick turned to take his namesake from Heath, “Hey, cowboy, you being a good boy for your mamma and pappa?”

“’Course,” Nicky said confidently then he leaned out to look around his uncle. His little forehead wrinkled in a deep frown.

“What’s wrong, Nicky? Whatcha lookin’ for, cowboy?” Nick prompted.

“I thoughts Tom might be with you. I thoughts him might have gotten to go to the ranch and nobody tolded me,” the little boy pouted just a little. “Tom’s been gone a long time, Uncle Nick. Not fair.”

Nick and Heath exchanged a quick look and Heath reached over to pat the boy’s back, “Of course Tom didn’t come to the ranch without you.”

Gene came to the rescue, “You know I told you, Nicky, that Tom had to be away for a little while to take some tests so he’ll be ready to go to school this fall.”

“But he’s been gone so long, Uncle Gene. I wants him back,” Nicky demanded.

“He’ll be back soon, Nicky,” Peter was finally able to face his son. “Look at it this way. You get to have your uncles all to yourself today. Won’t that be fun?”

Nicky wasn’t going to be cheered quite that easily, “Yeah, but I still wants Tom here.”

“Well, you just make the best of it and think of all the stories you can tell him about what you did today,” Peter reached out to gently ruffle his second-born’s dark hair.

Nicky gave a loud sigh and would have protested more except that Barton arrived in the foyer with two guests. “Miss Becca! And Judge Sam! Whatcha doin’ here?” Nicky greeted his backyard friends familiarly.

At any other time, Jarrod would have been amused by the Honorable Judge Samuel Henderson being referred to as Judge Sam. Today, however, he welcomed the obvious close attachment that Nicky had for the older gentleman. Just another person to help ease this younger nephew’s first full day without his constant companion.

“Good morning, Nicky,” the judge smiled at the little boy but it was a smile that just barely masked the concern in the judge’s face. It was obvious that another little boy was on his mind.

Rebecca’s bubbly personality covered any of her father’s hesitancy. She also reached out to ruffle the little boy’s dark locks, “Hey, Nicky. I had the best idea this morning. Dora fixed some of her very best blueberry muffins and I thought you and I could get some milk from Senora Carlotta and take this basket out to the tree house and have breakfast out there together. How does that sound?”

“Breakfast in the tree house?” the little boy’s eyes widened in delight. “Can I, Pappa? Can I, please?”

“Yes, you may,” Peter managed to smile at his son. “Just be a good boy for Miss Becca and stay right with her.”

“I will,” Nicky promised as his Uncle Nick set him on his feet. “C’mon, Miss Becca, I’m hungry.”

“I’m coming,” she laughed at the little boy’s exuberance and reached out to take his hand.

At the doorway, Nicky turned back, “You’ll come, too, Uncle Heath, Uncle Nick?”

“We’ll be out in a little bit,” Heath promised, his eyes lingering on Rebecca Henderson’s face for a moment. Anybody but a little boy could see she was putting on a brave face. Despite her laughs and smiles, he knew she was just as upset as the rest of them, but she was determined to keep her feelings hidden from little Nicky. “We need to talk to your pappa for a few minutes.”

“Iffn Tom comes soon, will you tell him we’re out there?” Nicky prodded.

Peter grimaced and gently scolded, “Nicky, son, we’ve told you that Tom won’t be back today.”

“Well, just in case he comes back sooner, you’ll tell him, won’t ya?” the little boy pressed.

“We’ll tell him,” Jarrod decided that a little white lie was better than continuing to try to make Nicky accept that Tom was not coming back today. “Peter, why don’t we go into your office.”

Satisfied, Nicky tugged Becca from the foyer. As they stepped through the doorway, she turned and her eyes sought Heath’s. He gave her a small nod and a tight smile of encouragement and then turned to follow the rest of the men into Peter’s office. As soon as the group was in Peter’s office, Rebecca’s father asked, “Have you heard anything?”

Peter slowly nodded his head, “A note was dropped outside the bank early this morning. I’m to take the ransom down to the Barbary Coast area early this evening.”

“Good,” the judge let out a slow sigh. “Peter, are you sure you don’t want me to contact the chief of police?”

“No,” Peter tiredly shook his head. “The note said ‘no police or else.’ I can’t risk Tom’s life. We’ll do exactly what the kidnappers want.”

Judge Henderson studied his young neighbor’s haggard face, “All right, we’ll do as you wish. Now, do you need any help raising the ransom? How much are they demanding?”

“Umm, fifty thousand,” Peter whispered.

“It’s a good bit of cash to pull together, but we should be able to do it in plenty of time,” Jarrod was determined to take the weight off of Peter’s shoulders.

“Shoot, Pete’s got a bank full of money,” Nick said quickly.

“I can’t do that,” Peter whispered.

“What?” his older brother frowned.

“It would ruin me, ruin the bank, if the story got out that the first time I had a money problem I pulled the bank’s reserves,” Peter whispered. “I’ve got to be careful and not let it get out that I’m assembling a bunch of cash. No, I’ll need to work through this another way.”

“Well, I brought what was in the ranch’s safe,” Nick nodded toward the saddlebags he had dropped by the front door. “There’s about five thousand there.”

“You emptied out the ranch safe?” Peter stared at his brother.

“Of course. Figured we might need it,” Nick said quickly.

“We can wire back to the bank in Stockton and have them transfer five thousand more here,” Heath added. “We could say we’re buying some livestock. We do it all the time. It won’t raise anybody’s suspicions.”

“I can easily sell mining stock here to get another ten thousand,” Jarrod offered. “It’s not unusual for us to liquidate that much at a single time. No one will take much note of it.”

“I can pull five thousand out of my account here and telegraph Robert to wire another five thousand from my accounts in New Orleans. For now, I’ll just tell him it’s for an investment here. I don’t want to put anything in a telegram that might get intercepted,” Peter slowly nodded his head.

“I’ll telegraph my brother in New York and have him wire ten thousand from my accounts there,” Barton reached over to pat Peter’s shoulder. “I’ll tell him that it’s for the house and furnishings. I don’t think we’ll have any problems keeping things quiet, Peter. I’ll go to the bank and handle everything myself and I’ll explain to the staff what’s going on and that they have to, for the sake of the bank, keep everything quiet.”

“All right, that’s forty thousand. I should be able to mortgage the house for the balance. I’ll just say I’m leveraging my assets for some investments,” Peter said softly.

“There’s no need to do that, Peter,” Judge Henderson interjected. “Let me loan you the remaining ten thousand. I can easily get it by this afternoon.”

“Judge, that’s not necessary,” Peter started.

“Just let me do it, Peter. It’ll give you one less thing to worry about,” the judge placed a gentle hand on his neighbor’s shoulder. “Let me do it for my very special little friends, Tom and Nicky and Lizzie V.”

Peter mustered a small smile and a shrug, “Thanks, Judge. Let me write you a promissory note for that.”

“Absolutely not,” Judge Henderson said. “This is something that is handled with a handshake. I’m not the least concerned about the money. My only concern is that we get little Tom back.”

“All right, judge,” Peter ran a hand over his tired eyes. “Once this is all finished, we’ll work out the details of me paying you back . . . paying everyone back.”

“That’s fine, son,” the judge patted his shoulder and exchanged a quick look with Jarrod. Repayment of loans was the last thing on everyone else’s mind. “How’s Samantha doing?”

Peter leaned his head back and struggled with an answer, “She’s very frightened. Mother and Audra are with her now. When I heard the knocking, when I came downstairs, Christiana was taking care of Lizzie V. while Hester got little Nicky up and around.”

“Hester?” Nick’s voice was strained.

“Nicky, she came last night. She’s been a great comfort to Sam. She slept with little Nicky last night; I don’t think he would have slept through the night except for her being there. I know, I know you two have a history, that she hurt you, but she’s been here for us since she heard. For Sam’s sake, please don’t ask me to make her leave.”

“I would never do that,” Nick quickly replied. “I was just surprised that she was able to be away from Adam . . . I know the boy is awful attached to her. That afternoon I played with him he kept talking about all the things his Aunt Hester did with him. I was surprised she’d leave him overnight.”

“She said, she said she had explained to him that sometimes grownups have to be away; that she’d be back later today to take care of him,” Peter shrugged. “I guess she’s all right with that. I don’t know; I just know she was a godsend last night.”

“Good,” Nick nodded. “Look, little brother, why don’t you see if you can’t get some sleep while the rest of us work on getting the ransom rounded up. You look about done in.”

“I’m all right,” Peter murmured. “You didn’t get any more sleep than I did.”

“Ah, you know me, I can sleep in the saddle,” Nick blustered.

“Yeah, right, Nicky,” his younger brother managed a small smile. “I guess we need to start gathering the cash together . . . .” A knock on the front door interrupted him.

“I’ll get it,” Gene said quickly and stepped from the room. The men remaining in the room struggled to pick up the thread of their conversation. It was only a few moments, however, when Gene came back in and grimly murmured, “Pete, there’s someone who wants to see you.”

Frowning deeply at his little brother’s tone, Peter demanded, “Who?”

“Josiah Crowne.”

“What!” Nick barked. “What the hell is he doing here?”

“I’m not sure,” Peter whispered.

Jarrod added, “We initially thought that the railroad might have been involved in Tom’s abduction. Peter and I went yesterday afternoon and confronted Crowne. We both were convinced that it wasn’t the railroad.”

“So what does he want now?” Nick snapped at Gene.

“He just said he wanted to talk to Peter,” Gene shrugged.

“Pete, I can take care of this,” Jarrod immediately offered.

“No, no,” Peter tiredly shook his head. “I’m all right; I can see him.”

Squaring his shoulders and tightening his jaw, he stepped from his office back into the entryway of his home. A grim-looking Josiah Crowne waited for him there, hat in his hand, uneasily shifting from one foot to the other. He extended his right hand toward Peter and then awkwardly let it drop to his side when Peter ignored the gesture. Crowne cautiously asked, “Have you heard anything?”

“A ransom note was dropped off at the bank early this morning,” Peter said tersely. “What do you want, Crowne?”

The man took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “I wanted you to know that I went to see Hannibal Jordan yesterday.”

“What?” Peter was thoroughly confused.

“I confronted him about your son’s kidnapping. I wanted you to know that he had nothing to do with it either. Although we are still disappointed that you refuse to work with us, no one involved with the Coastal and Western had anything to do with the abduction of your child.”

“You went to Sacramento last night to see Jordan?” Jarrod was surprised.

Crowne turned his eyes to the eldest Barkley brother, “I wanted to look into his eyes when I asked him about the child. And I saw the same thing in his eyes that you saw in mine . . . abhorrence at the idea that someone would victimize a child for monetary gains.”

“I see,” Jarrod said carefully, thinking of the children who had been left fatherless in the wake of the violence 10 years ago and again four years ago.

“He also directed me to offer our help in any way that you might need,” Crowne continued, his eyes now returning to Peter Barkley’s face. “Do you need any help pulling together the ransom?”

“We’ve got it covered,” Nick snapped. “The last thing we’d want is to use railroad money to get our nephew back.”

Jarrod spoke more calmly, “We were just working through the details. Peter is very concerned that we follow the kidnappers’ instructions explicitly. We’re trying to be very low key about all of this, securing the funds from several sources, so that we don’t alert the police and possibly put Tom more at risk.”

“I’m sure your brother also is being very careful not to risk the reserves of his bank,” Crowne said cautiously. When the comment brought hostile looks from several of the men, he added, “Which is just what makes him a trustworthy banker. He should be commended for adhering to his principles even during this time of personal crisis.”

“I’m not looking for commendations,” Peter said through tight lips. “I just want to get my son back.”

“Of course,” Crowne nodded. “If there’s anything I can do, please let me know. I’ll leave you gentlemen to continue your preparations.”

He turned toward the door, but a voice on the stairway stopped him. “Mr. Crowne?”

All eyes turned to look up the stairway. A pale Samantha, with Audra on one side and Victoria on the other, followed by Christiana carrying baby Jehbbie and Hester, who was carrying little Lizzie, hesitantly continued down the stairs and softly repeated, “Mr. Crowne?”

The man took a step toward her, “Mrs. Barkley. I apologize for intruding upon your family at this time. I just came by to assure your husband that the Coastal and Western had nothing to do with this despicable event and to offer any assistance that we might provide.”

“Thank you, Mr. Crowne,” she whispered as she came to stand in the entry. “I think I owe you an apology for my conduct toward you at Christmas time.”

Crowne quickly shook his head, “There’s nothing to apologize for, Mrs. Barkley. I should not have intruded upon the Christmas celebration in Stockton. It was very presumptuous of me.”

“But I did not speak very kindly to you . . . especially given the season,” Samantha said firmly.

A small smile tugged at his lips, “I think you were very kind to me given the circumstances. As I remember, you probably saved me from considerable pain and suffering.” He interrupted her effort to once again apologize by asking, “That evening, you showed me pictures of your children. Would you like to see a picture of my children?”

Surprise clearly shone in her eyes but she nodded and whispered, “Of course.”

He carefully pulled out his pocketwatch, opened it, and passed it to her. Indicating the small photograph tucked in the cover, Crowne softly explained, “My daughter Laura and my son Jacob. The picture is about five years old. She’s married now, gave me my first grandchild last fall. Jacob is getting married in June. He graduated from divinity school and has just received notice of his first posting in, of all places, the Northwest Territory. Has his mother worried to death but he and his bride can’t wait to go.”

“A minister,” Samantha murmured as she studied the picture a moment more and then carefully closed the cover and passed the watch back. “You must be so proud.”

“I am,” he said gently. “One of the proudest moments of my life was watching him receive his diploma. It is my deepest hope that your son is returned to you so that you can enjoy such wonderful moments also. Your family will be in my family’s prayers.”

Samantha’s tear-filled eyes raised to his face and she whispered, “Thank you, Mr. Crowne.”

“Take care of yourself, Mrs. Barkley,” he turned to walk away.

“Mr. Crowne,” Victoria Barkley’s voice stopped him. “Thank you for coming by.” She slowly extended her hand which he quickly grasped and gently squeezed.

“May this day end better for you than yesterday did,” he squeezed her hand once more and then turned. He nodded at the group of men, “Gentlemen.”

“Crowne,” Peter said through tight lips. “Thank you for coming by.”

“Please let me know how things turn out,” the businessman replied and then walked to the door that Gene hastily opened for him and then carefully closed.

The group all stared at the closed door for a moment. It was Nick who broke the silence, “Huh, never thought about Crowne being a family man. A wife and children. A grandchild. Can you believe it? His son’s a preacher.”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. “You never think of someone like Crowne as just an ordinary man.” He then turned toward his wife, “Sam, honey, should you be up? I think you should rest.”

She slid into his arms, “I’m all right. I need to be busy today. It’s going to be a long day. Nick, I thought I heard your voice.”

Nick had already hugged both his mother and sister and now turned to take his brother’s wife into his arms, “Hey, Sam girl. It’s gonna be all right, honey. We’re gonna get that boy back. It’s gonna be just fine.”

“I know,” she nodded, pressing her teary cheeks into his shirt front and then turning to accept the hug that Heath gave her. “I keep praying; I just know God won’t let us down.”

“We’re all praying, honey,” Nick put his arm around her shoulder. “But Pete’s right. You need to take it easy. You’re hardly back on your feet from having Jehbbie. The last thing we need is for you to get sick on us.”

“I’m not going to get sick, I promise,” Samantha replied and then turned to hug him again. “Thank you so much for coming, Nick. Having you and Heath here, well, it just makes me feel stronger with all the family here.”

“Family . . . and friends . . . do make us stronger. Now, we’re all going to watch over Samantha and make sure she doesn’t over do,” Victoria patted her daughter-in-law’s arm. “But she is right, it’s going to be best if we can stay busy today. Right now, I was hoping to get these young ladies to eat a little breakfast with Samantha.”

“I heard Nicky come scampering downstairs. Hester said he took off when he heard his Uncle Nick’s voice,” Samantha tried to be calm as she asked. “Where is he now?”

“Becca took him out to the tree house to eat his breakfast. I think she wanted to be sure he was out of the house so he wouldn’t hear any of our discussions,” Peter explained.

Her eyes widened slightly, “The tree house?”

Peter put a gentle hand on her arm, “Sam, honey, Becca’s with him. She’s watching over him.”

“I know,” her voice trembled slightly. “I’m being silly, of course. It’s just that Tom went out to the tree house when . . . when . . .”

“Sam, give me just a minute to clean up a little and I’ll go out back to be with Becca and Nicky,” Heath quickly volunteered. “We’ll be sure that someone’s always with both him and Lizzie V.” He immediately turned to head up the stairs, pausing to place a loud kiss on a delighted Lizzie’s cheek and to gently caressed the head of little Jehbbie.

“All right,” Samantha absently nodded but her eyes remained teary.

Victoria took charge, “Come on, Samantha. Let’s go sit in the kitchen. We can feed Lizzie and you can try to eat a little breakfast and watch the tree house from there.” She slipped an arm around her daughter-in-law’s waist and urged her along.

Audra immediately stepped away from the protective curl of Barton’s arm and linked her own arm around Samantha’s, “You promised you would try to eat, Samantha. You know that you have to eat well so that Jehbbie gets his nourishment.”

Samantha nodded her head again and allowed her mother-in-law and sister-in-law to move her toward the kitchen. Christiana, with Jehbbie carefully cradled in her arms, started down the stairs. As her eyes found Jarrod’s, she hesitated at the base of the stairs.

“How’s my youngest nephew doing?” Jarrod said softly as he stepped close to her.

“He’s fine but Samantha doesn’t want him left alone. She’s afraid that someone might . . . might sneak in and take him,” she replied.

Jarrod’s mouth twisted into a grim smile, “I guess I can understand her concern. While I don’t think it’s very likely, I understand. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long time before any of us let down our guard.”

“I know,” she agreed. “I better go; I need to help keep Samantha distracted. It’s going to be a terribly long day for her.”

“I’ll talk to you later. I think I need to concentrate on getting the ransom gathered up for Peter now,” he reached out to gently caress the downy head of the sleeping baby.

“I think you’re right. That’ll take some of the load off of him,” she nodded. “We’ll talk later, when you have time.”

Hester had kept her eyes on little Lizzie V. She hadn’t been the least surprised that Nick and Heath had come to San Francisco, but she hadn’t really wanted to once again be thrust into their lives. She had given Heath a small smile as he had kissed Lizzie on his way upstairs, but she hoped to slip past Nick without speaking. Little Lizzie had other ideas.

“Unca Ni,” the little girl reached her arms out to her hazel-eyed uncle.

Nick moved to the bottom of the stairs and took his tiny niece into his strong arms, “There’s my darlin’. You got a kiss for your Uncle Nick?”

A giggling Lizzie eagerly placed a wet kiss on her uncle’s rough cheek. Nick hugged her close for a moment and then teased, “Is Uncle Nick your favorite uncle?”

Lizzie slipped a finger into her mouth and just dimpled for him. Jarrod latched onto the light mood, “Oh, now, Lizzie knows that her Uncle Jarrod is her favorite.”

“Wait a minute here, Lizzie V. loves her Uncle Gene the best,” Gene teased.

Lizzie’s dancing green eyes surveyed the trio and then her eyes sought her father. “Me Pappa,” she stated firmly and reached her arms out to him.

Peter took his daughter from his brother and placed a soft kiss on her brown curls, “Lizzie loves all her uncles but her pappa is her favorite. Right, darling?”

“Me Pappa,” the baby repeated and wrapped her little arms around his neck.

For a moment, Peter allowed himself to be comforted by the boundless love of his tiny daughter. It took all of his resolve to force himself into facing the trials he was facing today, “All right, baby, you need to go with Miss Hester. Pappa has a lot of work to do today and you need to go eat your breakfast.”

They shared a kiss and Peter leaned over to hand the child back to Hester. “Thanks for helping with her, Hester,” he smiled at his wife’s good friend. “You’ve been an incredible help through all this.”

“I’ve done very little, Peter,” she took the little girl and bounced her on her hip.

It was Nick who replied, “You’ve done so much, Hester. Peter said you were the one who took care of Nicky all last night. We sure appreciate it. Are you sure Adam is gonna be all right with you being gone today?”

“He’ll be all right for today,” she assured him. “He and I talked about me being gone all day today. I may try to slip home for a short time to check on him, but I know that Samantha needs us to help keep the children entertained and, hopefully, sheltered from what’s going on.”

“Well, thanks so much for being here, for Sam, for the little ones,” Nick’s eyes fastened on hers. “We’ll never forget your kindness.”

“That’s what friends do, Nick,” she dared label their relationship.

He smiled at her, and for a moment her heart stopped, and then he just murmured, “You’re right about that.”

With a deep breath, she tore her eyes from him and kissed Lizzie’s forehead and slipped from the room. The men, all lost in their individual thoughts, slowly turned toward Peter’s office to face the task of gathering the ransom that might help bring little Tom home to them all.

Chapter 41

“I don’t like it,” Nick Barkley crossed his arms across his chest. “I don’t like it at all.”

“I don’t like it either, Nicky,” Peter said tiredly, “but the note says I’m to come by myself. I don’t want to do anything that might scare the kidnappers off.”

“Yeah, well, you could be walking into a trap. You’re going unarmed, carrying a valise with fifty thousand dollars through the streets of the Barbary Coast. You could get jumped long before you met up with the kidnappers. The kidnappers could take the ransom and just shoot you,” the older brother listed off the perils that awaited his little brother.

“I realize that, Nick,” Peter’s eyes wandered across the faces of the others seated in the parlor. Now that both Nicky and Lizzie V. were down for their afternoon naps, the adults could relax their vigilance in covering Tom’s absence. Now most of them were gathered together, except for Samantha who had gone upstairs with Jehbbie to nurse him and then to nap and Victoria who had laid down with Lizzie V., just across the hall from Tom and Nicky’s room. “But I don’t have much choice.”

Heath was the one who quietly asserted, “I think we do have a choice. I’ve been thinking of a way that we could maybe go with you without anyone realizing it.” He had spent all morning out in the backyard with little Nicky and Becca Henderson while Judge Henderson, Nick, Jarrod, and Barton had worked on pulling the ransom together, a ransom that now lay carefully stacked in a valise locked in the safe in Peter’s office. During those hours, he had turned over in his mind the kidnapper’s instructions and their options.

“We?” Peter frowned slightly. “You and Nicky?”

“No,” Jarrod smiled softly at Peter’s continued use of the childhood nickname for their brother. “Not just Heath and Nick. All of us. We have a plan.”

“A plan?” Peter was obviously skeptical.

“Listen to them,” Samantha’s voice caused them all to turn toward the doorway. “Please, Peter.”

He rose to his feet as did the other men as she glided into the room, “You’re supposed to be resting, Sam.”

“I tried but I can’t,” she said simply as she handed the sleeping Jehbbie to Audra and then reached out to grip her husband’s arm. “Please, listen to what your brothers have to say. I’m scared to death something is going to happen to you when you go to deliver the ransom. If they have an idea for protecting you, then I want to hear it.”

Peter sighed deeply and relented, “All right, I’ll listen. I’m not saying I’ll go along with it, but I’ll listen.” He sat down in his chair and Samantha perched on the arm and curled an arm around his broad shoulders.

Jarrod nodded at Heath who took a deep breath and, unconsciously, glanced toward Becca Henderson who also gave him a small nod of encouragement, “I think we can shadow you, Pete, so that no one will know we’re there.”

“Heath,” Peter was already shaking his head, but then stopped as Samantha leaned over and whispered in his ear.

“What we’ll do is we’ll get clothes that will let us blend in with the crowd on the Barbary Coast,” Heath started. “Nick and I’ll go down early, a couple of hours before you. We’ll just hang out in a bar there, at Washington and Montgomery, long enough so nobody thinks much about us being there. Barton and Gene will come in from the other direction, down Pacific, just wandering toward you. Barton will pretend that he’s showing a young friend the sights on the wild side of town. Jarrod will ride with you to the livery on Broadway, to make sure you get there safely and watch you head to Kearny. Then he’ll swing around to join up with Barton and Gene.”

Peter again started shaking his head, “I don’t know, Heath. What if someone is watching the house and sees you all leave dressed like sailors. That’ll tip our hand . . . and maybe put Tom at risk.”

“Ah, but they won’t be leaving from your house, Peter,” Judge Henderson explained. “Heath and I have talked. I think that they can slip over to my house one by one and go from there. We can take horses down to the livery and I can take your brothers down to the livery in my carriage. We can load up in the carriage house . . . no one will see them.”

Peter slowly stood and walked to the fireplace. He rested his arm on the mantle and absently rubbed his forehead with his hand. “I don’t know. I hate to think of all of you down there . . . it’s a dangerous area.”

“Damn it, Pete, we know it’s a dangerous area. That’s why we don’t want you wandering around it unarmed with a valise full of money,” Nick snapped. “We’re gonna hang back; the kidnappers won’t see us. But we’ll be close enough that we can help you if something goes bad.”

“Nicky, I keep thinking this wasn’t just a kidnapping. Maybe this is someone from my past, someone trying to settle a score. This could be my fault and I don’t want to risk anybody else if that’s what’s going on,” Peter countered.

“This ain’t your fault, Pete,” Nick said quickly. “This is the fault of some lowlife who snatched an innocent little boy.”

“Yeah, but if it’s somebody from my past then Tom would have never been a target if it weren’t for me,” his brother refused to be swayed.

Samantha slipped off the chair arm and walked to her husband. She placed a hand on his arm and whispered, “It’s not your fault, Peter. You don’t know it’s someone from your past.”

“Yeah, but there’s a high probability – I spent five years as a deputy federal marshal. I arrested a lot of people, put a lot of people in jail, killed a few, sent a few to the gallows. There’s a lot of people who might want to hurt me, hurt my family.”

“But you don’t know it’s someone from your past,” she repeated. “It could be someone from my past.”

Before he could stop himself, Peter snapped, “Damn it, Sam, you were a 17-year-old convent school girl when I married you. You don’t have a past.”

Tears leapt into Samantha’s eyes and she bit her lip. She took two steps back and sank down onto the settee next to Christiana. Peter grimaced and dropped to his knees. He took both her hands in his and apologized, “Sam, honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just tired. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Her voice trembled, “I’m not crying because you snapped at me. I’m crying because I’m afraid.”

“I’m afraid, too, honey, but we’re going to get him back,” he squeezed her hands.

Samantha shook her head, “I’m afraid that you’re going to blame yourself for all of this, like you always do. You always think everything is your responsibility, your fault. It isn’t so, this time, Peter.”

“It could be.”

“Peter, you have to promise me that, no matter what happens, you’re not going to let this destroy us. You’re not going to let some misguided feelings of guilt tear our family apart. Promise me, Peter, promise.” Her husband avoided her eyes, focusing instead on their linked fingers. She whispered more urgently, “Please promise me, Peter.”

It was several moments before he could speak, “I don’t want to make a promise that I’m not sure I can keep.”

“Oh, Peter,” her hand came up to cup his cheek and she forced him to raise his face. “Please don’t do this to yourself. Promise me, promise me what you tell our children. Promise me that you’ll do your very best. Just do your very best not to let this tear us apart.”

His bright blue eyes looked deep into hers and he haltingly whispered, “I promise I’ll do my best.”

Samantha leaned forward and kissed his cheek, “Thank you, my love. Now, promise me that you’ll let your brothers help you today.”

He started to argue with her, “It’s dangerous.”

“Yes, it is,” she interrupted, “and that’s why it’s important that you let your brothers go with you. They’ll watch out for you and they’ll watch out for each other. Let them be there, Peter.”

“It might put Tom more at risk,” he wasn’t ready to give in.

“And it might be that it will make him safer,” she calmly countered.

And, because he loved her with all his heart, would try to do anything she asked of him, he acquiesced. So by 5 p.m., the time that he needed to saddle his horse and head toward the Barbary Coast, only Jarrod remained in the house with him. The others had slipped across the back yard to the Hendersons’, donned tattered sailors’ clothing that Anne Henderson had found at a second-hand shop, and then made their way down to the roughest part of the city, arriving hours before the appointed meeting time so that they could blend in with the rest of the crowd.

It had been an incredibly long day. In the early afternoon, Peter had whispered to Samantha that he was going to church for a little bit. She had just smiled and nodded; she knew he would light a candle for their son and say a prayer for his safe return. And he would talk to their priest. Nick had ridden with his younger brother to the church and stood in the back as Peter went to a side chapel and lit a candle in front of the statue of the Virgin Mary and then moved into the main chapel, where he knelt and prayed. After a bit, Nick had been startled when a priest laid a hand on his arm. He had explained that he was Peter Barkley’s brother and that he was just waiting for his brother to finish his prayers. The priest had frowned and nodded and then gone to sit beside Peter. Peter must have told the priest what had happened because Nick had seen the man’s eyes widen in shock and then him place a comforting hand on Peter’s shoulder. The two men had prayed together, and then Peter had stood and squared his shoulders and turned toward his older brother. His eyes had been clear and his jaw firmly set; only a loving big brother would notice that he still clutched his rosary in his hand.

On the ride back to the house, Peter had asked Nick about Hester, about what had happened four years before. Nick had easily told the story of how they had met, how he had wooed her, how he had asked her to marry him, and how she had accepted. He had surprised himself when he went on to convey what had happened up at Indian Springs, how his temper had caused him to misunderstand what had happened after the dance at the logging camp, why Hester was crying – how in a blind rage he had attacked their brother and then gotten himself badly hurt. He had then confessed how he had continued to feel betrayed by the family, that in his physical pain he believed that they were all conspiring to keep him and Hester apart. But, it was Hester who made him understand and, in the end, it was he who sent her away.

“She wasn’t sure, Pete, and I couldn’t ask her to stay if she wasn’t for sure,” he had finished as they had neared Peter and Samantha’s street.

“And now?”

“Now?”

“What do you think of her now?”

Nick had stared up the street, “I think she’s gone a long way toward finding herself; I think she loves little Adam more than she loves herself. I think she’s able to let herself be friends with other beautiful women and never think once about their husbands as any thing other than friends. I think she’s still as beautiful as when I first met her but she doesn’t want to be the belle of the ball any more.”

“And what does that mean for you?”

“For me?” Nick had shaken his head. “Doesn’t mean much of anything for me. I’m just glad she seems happier with her life – despite all the pain her family has suffered.”

“That’s it?”

Nick had smiled softly as they had dismounted, “That’s it . . . for now.”

Peter had not pressed his older brother further but he had noticed how Nick had sought Hester out when they entered the house and helped her to entertain a darling little Lizzie V. until it was time for him to make his casual trek across the back yard and to slip into the Hendersons’ home. Peter overheard him urge Hester to go back to her cousin’s home at least for a little while for Adam’s sake.

Despite the almost overwhelming pain of not knowing how Tom was, where he was, Peter’s mind took a moment to consider the interesting contingent of family and friends who had come to stand with them. Hester and Nick, thrown together once again. Nick had been nothing but kind to Hester and the woman was slowly letting down her guard. Heath and Becca Henderson had spent all morning entertaining the energetic Nicky. Peter smiled softly as he remembered how quickly Heath had volunteered to go out back and watch over Nicky . . . he didn’t think it was just coincidence. And when Heath had to also slip away, Peter had watched as Becca’s eyes remained on him until he disappeared into her parents’ house. Samuel and Anne Henderson – the judge had been there from the first, searching for Tom with Gene. He had loaned Peter a large part of the ransom on the strength of a handshake. Anne Henderson had gone herself to a second hand store and picked out enough tattered clothing to help costume the men who were going to shadow Peter. Peter couldn’t ask for better neighbors.

Eugene . . . Peter had been so stunned with the calm way his little brother had assessed the amputated finger. Only Gene’s unruffled assessment of the appendage had chased the thought that it was Tom’s from Peter’s mind. And Peter would forever be grateful for Gene’s quick concealment of the finger, sparing Samantha from the gruesome sight. As he had watched his baby brother slip out the back door of the house and head across the yard for the Hendersons’, Peter winced. He was so young . . . too young to be going on such a dangerous mission. When Barton had stopped to place a comforting hand on Peter’s shoulder before he, too, trekked across the yard, Peter had urged his partner to convince Gene not to go with him. But Barton had shaken his head and smiled softly, “He has to be there, Peter. He was here from the beginning; he has to help see this through.” And, so, Peter had entrusted his baby brother to the care of his partner . . . his best friend.

Barton and Audra. It was interesting how when he thought of one he automatically thought of the other. Still two months away from their wedding and Peter already considered them a couple. Barton had handled everything at the bank today and coordinated getting much of the ransom, including loaning Peter ten thousand dollars of his own. And, as she had been during Samantha’s long confinement, Audra had been invaluable today as she had ensured that Sam stayed calm while both Nicky and Lizzie were kept too busy to miss Tom.

“Peter,” Jarrod’s gentle voice stopped Peter’s silent musings. “It’s about time for us to leave.”

And Jarrod and Christiana. Another couple linked, at least, in Peter’s mind. He thought it was telling that the first place that Jarrod had gone when he returned to San Francisco was Christiana’s shop. But, as he turned to face his eldest brother, all Peter really thought was that he was glad that Pappy was here with him now. He needed his big brother.

“All right, I’m ready,” Peter murmured. He hesitated and looked away for a moment. “Jarrod, I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything, Peter,” Pappy said instantly.

“The most important thing is that we get Tom back to his mother.”

“Yes,” Jarrod said carefully, unsure of what his brother was trying to say.

“No matter what happens, that’s what is important,” Peter said firmly.

“Pete?” Jarrod frowned.

“No matter what happens,” Peter’s blue eyes fastened onto his brother’s, “promise me that you’ll just get my son back safely to his mother.”

Jarrod caught his breath and then said softly, “We’re all going to make it back safely.”

“That’s all I want, Jarrod, but you have to understand, that I’ll do anything to get Tom back,” Peter’s voice was surprisingly gentle. “Anything. And you have to let me.”

“Petey,” Jarrod shook his head, knowing now that his brother, as a father, would unhesitantly trade his life for his son’s.

“I know the risks, Jarrod,” Peter whispered, “and I’m willing to take them, but you all have to let me.”

Jarrod struggled with what his brother was asking but knew there was no choice, “All right, but it may never come to that.”

“I know, but if it does, you just focus on getting Tom out and to his mother,” Peter replied. “And, Jarrod, if something happens to me, you have to be there for Sam.”

Wanting this conversation over, Jarrod automatically said, “Of course.”

“She shouldn’t stay here in San Francisco by herself. She’ll need her brother. Get Robert here as soon as you can. She’ll probably want to take the children back to New Orleans. She’ll feel safe there, in her home, with Robert. Please help her to do that.”

Jarrod just stared at his little brother. How could he speak so calmly about something so unspeakable?

“Promise me you’ll take care of things,” Peter’s voice was firm.

“I promise,” the words were a struggle.

Peter nodded now, seemingly satisfied, “Well, let’s go then.” He reached down to pick up the valise loaded with money and calmly walked from his office. A stunned Jarrod just watched him for a moment and then shook himself and quickly followed.

Only Samantha and Mother were waiting for them in the entry. The other women were seeing to the children. Nicky and Lizzie V. were being fed their supper by Becca and Audra, and Jehbbie was asleep in a basket in the back parlor under the watchful eyes of Christiana. Hester had done as Nick had urged. She had gone to check on little Adam, but she had promised she would be back shortly to wait with Samantha.

Peter set the valise down and gathered his wife into his arms. “We’ll get him back; I’m sure, Sam,” he whispered against her hair.

“I know,” she said. “Please be careful.”

“I will,” he kissed her cheek. “Try not to worry. I have no idea how long we’ll be or if we’ll even be able to get Tom tonight. If we find out something, we’ll send back word. I promise.”

“I understand,” she whispered and reached up to pull his head down to hers and kiss him fully. “Just promise me you’ll be careful. I want you both back safely.”

Jarrod caught his breath, wondering what Peter would do; but his little brother just smiled softly and kissed his wife again and said, “I promise I’ll be careful. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered back and then released him and urged him toward his mother.

“Mother,” Peter whispered. “Thank you for being here, for everything.”

“You know I would do anything to help you and Samantha,” she rested both hands on his broad chest and looked up into the eyes that always reminded her of his father. “Now, do as your wife has told you. Be careful.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said it solemnly and then winked at her.

As Peter bent down and picked up the valise, Jarrod leaned in to kiss their mother’s cheek. “Watch over your brother, darling,” she whispered to him.

He nodded and then turned to also kiss Samantha’s cheek. “Watch over him, please, Jarrod,” she whispered in his ear. “Don’t let him do anything foolish.”

Jarrod looked down into the sweet face of his sister-in-law. She knew her husband so well, knew already what was in his heart and his mind. He mustered a small smile and nod for her and then turned to follow his younger brother out the front door to where Peter’s young groom, Sean, held their two saddled horses. As they both swung up on their horses, Jarrod reflected that it had been just over 24 hours before when he and Peter had first learned about Tom’s disappearance and had ridden across town together to Crowne’s office. Just 24 hours . . . it seemed like so much longer.

They rode silently across the city to the edge of the Devil’s Acre where they stabled their horses. Jarrod walked two blocks with Peter and then his younger brother turned to him, “It’s time, Jarrod. You need to stop here. I need to go on by myself.”

Jarrod nodded and then reached out to touch his brother’s arm, “Be careful, Peter.”

“You just remember what you promised me.”

“You remember what you promised Samantha,” Jarrod’s hand tightened on his brother’s arm. “Keep your eyes open for Nick and Heath. They should be coming your way. I’m going to circle around and fall in behind Gene and Barton.”

“All right, just be sure you don’t get too close. I don’t want to scare off the kidnappers,” Peter’s eyes scanned the area around them.

“Be sure that you don’t lose Nick and Heath.”

“I’ll do my best but I have to be careful and not raise any suspicions.”

Jarrod smiled softly and raised an eyebrow, “That’s all I ask . . . do your best.”

His brother gave him a grim look and then turned to walk away. Jarrod watched his back for several moments and then turned and retraced his steps back up the street, hoping that anyone who might have been watching him would think he was headed back to where they had left their horses. He skirted the horses and wandered down Pacific. As he expected, he saw Barton and Gene headed the other direction. They were doing an excellent job of acting slightly drunk and highly interested in the various lurid tableaus but they were making steady progress. Jarrod casually turned and followed them, lagging a full block behind and staying across the street from them. He watched as they came up to where Commerce, Kearney, and Pacific all merged and then turned down Commerce. Jarrod tried to be inconspicuous as he followed after them. He was surprised to see Nick, Barton, and Gene standing together on a corner. For a few moments he hesitated, pretending to look into one of the saloons at the dancing girls. He was afraid that if he joined them he might call attention to them. Finally, the gnawing feeling in his stomach pushed him away from the saloon and down the block.

As he drew even with the trio, he turned and asked Barton for a match and then whispered, “What’s happening?”

“When Nick and Heath came up the block, they saw Peter be approached by um a um young woman,” his soon-to-be-brother-in-law said carefully.

Jarrod frowned, “A prostitute?”

Barton nodded, “He um walked into that alley with her.”

“What?” Jarrod’s sputtered.

“Yeah,” Nick moved over to stand beside them. “When Heath and I got up even with the entrance we could just barely see them at the back of the alley. It looked like, well, it looked like they umm they were umm involved.”

“What?” this time Jarrod hissed the word.

“I’m just saying that’s what it looked like,” Nick was obviously embarrassed. “We figured we couldn’t just hang around right across from them so we moved on down the street. The girl came out; Pete didn’t. We doubled back but the alley was empty.”

Jarrod’s heart skipped a beat, “We’ve lost him.”

“Heath went after the girl, to see if she knows which direction he went. Damn, I don’t understand any of this, Jarrod,” Nick’s eyes flashed.

“I don’t either, Nick,” Jarrod’s looked around them, worried again that if someone else was watching Peter that they would see the four of them grouped together, ruining their chances to slip up on the kidnappers and, perhaps, placing Tom at serious risk.

Before he could voice his concern, however, Heath magically appeared behind them and tersely said, “We need to get moving.”

“What?” Jarrod and Nick chorused as they all swung around to confront Heath.

“We need to move now. This way,” he nodded to the east.

“Maybe we need to separate . . . so we aren’t so noticeable,” Barton warned.

“Doesn’t matter,” Heath shook his head. “Don’t think anybody is watching us now. Hurry up, I think Pete’s walking into a trap.”

“What? Why do you think that?” Jarrod lengthened his stride to keep up with the group.

“The girl told me that she was given twenty dollars to tell him to go to a warehouse down on East, north of Washington,” Heath continued to stride down the street.

“Who gave her the money?” the lawyer in Jarrod pushed for more information.

“She didn’t know their names, said they were a couple of swabbies she’d seen hanging around. They just told her to look for a blond, well-dressed man waiting on the corner of Pacific and Kearney, to go up and ask him if he was looking for a little boy. If he said he was, she was to tell him that if he took her into the alley and umm and umm you know, then she would tell him where to go.”

Jarrod stopped dead in his tracks, “Oh, God.”

Heath turned back and his eyes swept across the faces of the other men, “Don’t worry. Pete told her he couldn’t do that. He said he was married and he’d taken a vow. She said she was afraid that someone might be watching so they went into the alley and umm pretended. She said it was a good thing he hadn’t. That she’s got the sickness. She said, she said that she thought that might be one of the reasons that the sailors had picked her . . . that they wanted him to . . . well . . . catch it.”

“Damn,” Barton spat the word out.

“What the hell is going on?” Nick barked. “Who’s behind this craziness?”

“I don’t know, Nick,” Heath turned and headed back down the street. “But I think you’re right. I think they’re crazy and I think we need to hurry ‘cause I think Pete’s walking into trouble.”

Chapter 42

Christiana walked up and down the front porch again, rubbing her hands up and down her arms to try to ward off the chill of the evening air . . . and the fear. It was almost nine o’clock. Peter and Jarrod had been gone for almost four hours. They should have been back by now, her mind screamed at her . . . unless something had gone wrong. And the “not knowing” had everyone in the house on edge. Coupled with this was the sudden arrival of the chief of police. He said he had heard a rumor that there were some problems . . . a child kidnapped. He had chastised them for not reporting the incident, for not relying on the police, for taking things into their own hands. He had been kind but insistent, wanting to know where Peter and the others had gone, interrogating them all. Becca had dashed across the backyard and brought her parents back. The judge had tried to persuade the police chief to leave, that he would personally report the outcome, but the chief made it clear he was not leaving until Peter and the others returned home.

Poor Samantha had used the excuse of caring for little Jehbbie to retreat to her bedroom. Amazingly, it was Hester who had come to the rescue. Christiana had always appreciated Hester’s beauty but she had never seen the woman turn on her charm. Christiana grinned to herself as she remembered how Hester had simply bowled the chief over. Even now she, along with the Hendersons, was continuing to keep him occupied, effectively stopping him from further upsetting Samantha and Victoria. All three of the Barkley women were hiding upstairs, Samantha with Jehbbie, Audra with Nicky, and Victoria with little Lizzie V. And Christiana was hiding out here on the front porch, waiting for something, anything.

“Hi,” the soft voice made her jump. Becca whispered a quick apology, “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

Christiana shook her head, “It’s not your fault. I feel like I’m drawn about as taut as one of the strings on Peter’s violin.”

“Umm, I know what you mean,” Becca agreed. “I couldn’t sit in there any longer with the chief. I don’t know how Hester does it.”

“She’s amazing, isn’t she,” Christiana nodded.

“Pretty incredible. Audra told me the story about her and Nick . . . and Heath. I can see, now, how they could have been . . . have been . . . confused by things if Hester was acting, well, acting like she is now,” Becca murmured. “She’s so different from the way she is with us, the way she is normally.”

Christiana started to answer that she thought that the flirting used to be Hester’s normal behavior when a noise down the street caught her attention. Turning, she tried to see through the darkness.

“Do you hear it?” Becca whispered in her ear.

“Hoofbeats . . . lots of them,” Christiana nodded.

“Is it them?”

“I don’t know; I can’t see,” she strained to see through the gloom. The noise was coming closer; she should be able to see something, some little thing. There, a flash of white, the white on the muzzle of a horse. And, there, the light reflecting off the polished hooves. A white shirt? Was that Jarrod’s shirt? Or Barton’s? No, not Barton, he had changed clothes. It must be Jarrod or Peter.

And then the moon broke through the clouds and she could see them. “Go,” she urged Becca. “Go upstairs, quickly. Tell Sam, they’re coming. I can see them. They’re coming back.”

“Do they have Tom?”

Christiana shook her head, “I can’t see; I don’t know. But, go, go tell Sam. They’re coming.”

Becca squeezed her arm, “I’m going.”

She stepped down from the porch, hugging herself with her arms, desperately trying to see through the shadows. Yes, yes, it was them. Jarrod and Barton had both dismounted in front of the house and were turning to the horse behind them. It was Peter, and Heath was riding up beside him and Nick had swung off his horse and was hurrying forward to Peter’s mount. Peter . . . and . . . and, oh, thank God, he held a small figure in front of him. Christiana didn’t realize that she was crying as she turned and rushed to the open front door.

“Samantha,” she called, “Samantha, hurry. They have him. They have Tom.”

Christiana turned back to watch the men. She heard Heath ask, “Pete, can you swing your leg over?”

And saw Peter nod and struggle to lift his right leg over the horse’s neck. Jarrod and Barton were both reaching up to help Peter as he slid awkwardly off the horse and began to limp toward the house.

Samantha flew down the stairs and through the front door. Her arms reached for the tow-head boy swathed in an oversized shirt that Peter held tightly against his chest. “My baby, my baby,” she sobbed as she tried to take the boy from Peter.

But Peter held on doggedly, “He’s too heavy for you, Sam. Go in to the parlor and I’ll let you hold him on your lap. He’s all right, honey. He’s just fine.”

She refused to let go of the child and backed quickly over the threshold and into their front sitting room, pulling her husband and son with her. Victoria and Audra reached the entry just as the group all pushed through the door. Victoria’s eyes filled with tears as she watched them move together. Her eyes automatically swung around the family and friends who were watching the mother and son reunion and her stomach lurched when she realized someone was missing. “Eugene?” she whispered.

Jarrod reached out to put a strong arm around her. “Gene’s fine. He just headed off to get Dr. Vanders.”

“Dr. Vanders?” the panic increased as her eyes now returned to the little boy who had been transferred from his kneeling father’s arms to his mother’s lap. “Was Tom hurt?”

Nick was the one to answer, “Tom says he’s fine, that he was just cuffed around a little, but Pete wants him checked over. Pete’s really the one who needs a doctor. Damn swabbies beat the crap out of him.”

“Peter?” Victoria’s look now turned to her middle son who continued to kneel in front of his wife, seemingly unable to break his contact with his son even as Samantha hugged and crooned to the child. Only now she saw the bruises forming on his face, the torn clothing, and the way he held his right leg stiffly out to the side. My God, what had happened, she thought.

“Don’t worry, Mother,” Heath said softly. “Pete will be just fine; he’s just another one of your hard-headed Barkley sons. He just got roughed up a little.”

“Roughed up? By whom? What’s happened? Weren’t the kidnappers going to let Tom go after Peter paid the ransom?” she tried to imagine all the possible scenarios.

Jarrod opened his mouth to answer when little Tom spoke for the first time since arriving home, “I’m sorry, Mamma. I’m sorry that I made you cry.”

“Oh, baby,” Samantha continued to sob as she kissed the boy again and again. “You didn’t make me cry. These are happy tears. I’m just so happy that my baby is home safe. Mamma and Pappa were just worried about you is all.”

“I knowed you’d be worried, Mamma, when I was gone all night,” the little boy said earnestly. “I kept telling Captain Pearce that my mamma would be worried if I wasn’t home.”

“Captain Pearce?” Samantha stunned eyes moved from her son’s face to her husband.

Peter’s face was filled with pain and regret, “Oh, Sam, I’m so sorry. I never imagined Sedge would ever do anything like this. It was like he’d gone mad.”

“But why would he take our Tom?” she whispered.

Before Peter could reply, Tom calmly told his mother, “He said Mrs. Pearce was sad ‘cause she’d losted her own baby boy . . . that he needed a son . . . and that Pappa owed it to him . . . so he tooked me for his son. But I tolded him that I didn’t want to be his son.”

“Peter?” Samantha stared at her husband.

“I swear, Sam, it was if he were deranged. He kept talking about a baby, a baby that had died. That it was all my fault; that I had robbed him of the chance of ever having a son.”

Tom added, “When he tooked me to Mrs. Pearce he said that I was to make up for the baby she’d losted. That he knew she’d had always wanted to have a blond-haired son to remind her of her . . . her . . .” The little boy’s face screwed up as he tried to recall the word. “Her a-more-a. But she was just real mad at him. Told him he couldn’t replace the baby he’d beat out of her. That was his sin. That it was cause of his sin and his sickness that she’d never had another baby.”

Although the little boy didn’t understand most of what he had related, his words had a profound effect on both his parents. Peter and Samantha both paled as they realized that Peter must have left Tessa with child when he had continued his wanderings as a young sailor . . . and her next lover, the man who would become her husband, must have beat her until she lost the child. And, in Sedgwick Pearce’s deranged mind, Peter was to blame for everything.

“Oh, Peter,” her voice quivered.

The shame was etched into Peter’s face, “Sam, I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry. I never thought . . . I never considered . . . the possibility. Sedge said, he kept mumbling, that he had promised Tessa that losing the baby didn’t matter, that she didn’t need my child, that he would give her much better children, that she would be happier with him. But it never happened. He said that taking my son and giving him to Tessa should have made everything all right, should have made her happy . . . but even that didn’t work. And it was all my fault.”

Samantha’s voice was firm, “It’s not your fault, Peter. None of this is your fault. The man was crazy; it’s all his fault.”

“Sam,” his voice quivered. The shame was his, his alone, to shoulder. He had brought this pain to his family, to the wife he adored, to the son who just by being born had given him hope for the future.

“He wasn’t a very nice man, Mamma,” Tom calmly agreed with his mother. “When I was going out to the tree house he called me over to the fence. He tolded me that I could go see his ship again, that it’d be a lot of fun, but I tolded him that I had to ask my mamma first. He said I didn’t; that he’d checked with Pappa and that Pappa said it was all right, but I tolded him I had to tell you before I left our yard. And then he grabbed me and made me drop my book and he stuck a handkerchief that had some stinky stuff on it and then I fell asleep. I didn’t want to go with him, Mamma. I didn’t like the way he was acting. I wasn’t gonna go with him but he was bigger than me and I couldn’t stop him. I’m sorry I dropped the book. I know to be careful with books, I do, Mamma.”

“It’s all right, chere,” Sam carefully smoothed her eldest’s blond locks. “Mamma knows you wouldn’t have left the yard without telling me. And I know you’re always so careful with your books. That’s how Mamma and Pappa knew that someone had taken you . . . because you’d never leave a book in the dirt.”

“Is the book all right, Mamma?”

She smiled at her serious young son, “It’s just fine. It’s up in Mamma and Pappa’s bedroom. I’ve been keeping it safe for you. I know it’s one of your favorites.”

“Good,” the boy smiled.

Samantha licked her lips and gently asked her child, “Did, did Captain Pearce hurt you, baby?”

“I’m not a baby, Mamma,” the boy rolled his eyes. “He didn’t hurt me much. At first, he was all right. He just kept telling me how much fun I was going to have living on a ship. Later he wasn’t so nice. But Mrs. Pearce always was real nice to me. When I woked up, my tummy didn’t feel good and she gived me sips of cold water and crackers to eat until I felt better. I tolded her that I needed to go home and she said that she would see to it that I got to go back home just as soon as I felt better. Then she left me and that’s when I heard her and Captain Pearce talking real loud. I could tell that Captain Pearce didn’t want me to come home. I guess I fell asleep again ‘cause the next thing I ‘member is Mrs. Pearce waking me up and telling me it was time to go. It was real dark and she told me I had to be real quiet when we slipped off the ship. But Captain Pearce caught us just when we got off the ship. Oh, Mamma, he was so mad. His face was so scary.”

“Oh, chere, I’m sorry you were scared,” she crooned to him as Peter buried his face into the back of the oversized shirt that pooled around the boy.

“I tried to be brave, Mamma, but I did cry a little, when Captain Pearce locked me back in the little room on the ship,” Tom admitted. “And Captain Pearce and Mrs. Pearce really started shouting at each other then. And then there were noises of things breaking and then Mrs. Pearce, she screamed, Mamma. And then it got real quiet. It was a long time after that when Captain Pearce comed into the room. He tolded me to give him my shirt. I tolded him I wanted to go home and he slapped my face and tolded me to behave and not talk back or he’d take a belt to me.”

“Oh, chere,” Samantha sobbed. Other than an occasional swatted hand when he was a toddler, Tom had never had a hand raised to him. To realize that this crazed man had struck her child tore at her heart. She gently caressed the cheek that clearly showed finger marks. “Mamma is so sorry.”

“I didn’t want him to hit him again so I gived him my shirt. He never gived it back to me but Uncle Gene gived me his shirt. He said I could keep it ‘cause it won’t be long ‘fore it fits me,” Tom proudly raised an arm that was swathed in a sleeve whose cuff had been rolled up about half a dozen times.

Despite the pain and confusion, Samantha shared a quick smile with her husband, “I’m sure Uncle Gene is right.”

For a moment, Tom’s smile mirrored his mother’s, but then he frowned, “I didn’t see Mrs. Pearce ever again, Mamma. She never comed back to see me. A sailor brought me some food, but mostly I just sat and looked at the books Mrs. Pearce gived me. Captain Pearce comed to get me just before it started getting dark. He tooked me up to the deck and then he made me get in a big crate.”

“Oh, my God,” it was Audra who voiced the horror that they all were feeling at the thought of the small boy being forced to get into a wooden box. The word ‘coffin’ surged through all their minds.

But Tom was too little to make such a connection, “It’s all right, Aunt Audra. It wasn’t really scary, and it wasn’t that dark ‘cause light comed through the cracks. And when we got to the warehouse, they let me out. Captain Pearce told me just to sit on the crate and then one of the sailors said ‘He’s coming’ and Captain Pearce grabbed me and put his hand over my mouth. I saw Pappa come into the building and tried to call to him, to tell him that there were men hiding but I couldn’t. And those sailors, they jumped on Pappa. They hit his leg with a big thick board and he couldn’t stand up and then two of them held him and the other one kept hitting him with the board.”

“Oh, Peter,” Samantha’s eyes moved to her husband’s bruised face. “Oh, my darling, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, Sam,” Peter shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”

“Pappa wouldn’t fight back, Mamma,” Tom’s eyes were shiny. “I think it made Captain Pearce real mad. He started shouting at Pappa, asking him why he wouldn’t fight, calling him a coward. And Pappa just stared at Captain Pearce and then he said, Pappa said, ‘Call me whatever you want, Sedge. Do whatever you want to me. Nothing matters but my son. Just please let my son go back to his mother.’ But Captain Pearce said Pappa had stolen Tessa from him again, that it was ‘cause of Pappa that she was dead, and that Pappa owed him a son. I’m not sure who Tessa was, Mamma, but I know that’s when Pappa fooled Captain Pearce.”

“Fooled him?” Samantha was honestly mystified.

“Uh-huh. Captain Pearce kept saying ‘Give him to me. You owe him to me. You took my wife; you took my chance at having sons. Give me your son. Give him to me or no one will have him.’ Pappa was so smart, Mamma. He looked me right in the eyes and he said, ‘All right, Sedge, I’ll give you my son, my son, Thomas ANDREW Barkley.’ See, Mamma, he said Thomas ANDREW Barkley, not my real name, Thomas HENRI Barkley. I knew then that Pappa was foolin’ Captain Pearce, that Pappa wasn’t really giving me away. Pappa told Captain Pearce that Thomas ANDREW Barkley would never try to run away from him, that Thomas ANDREW Barkley wouldn’t try to tell every policeman he saw, every priest that he saw that he was from San Francisco and that he wanted to go back to his family there, that Thomas ANDREW Barkley knew that his pappa and his uncles weren’t hunting for him every day. See, Mamma, Pappa was so smart. He tolded me exactly what he wanted me to do, to try to run away, to try to find a policeman or a priest, to look for Pappa and my uncles, that they would be looking for me. Pappa fooled Captain Pearce good, didn’t he, Mamma?”

Tears filled Samantha’s eyes again and she caressed first her son’s cheek and then her husband’s, “Yes, he did, chere.”

“I thought that Captain Pearce was gonna take me then, Mamma, but then he grabbed my hair and made me look up at him and his eyes were so mean, Mamma,” the little boy shuddered and both his parents pressed closer to him. “He said, ‘It won’t work, will it, Peter? I couldn’t let her have the first one; and now that she’s gone I can’t keep this one. Well, I guess no one will have him.’ And then that’s when it thundered.”

“Thunder?” Samantha frowned. There had been no thunder on this clear spring night. She looked at Peter in confusion. His mouth silently formed the word “gunshots.” In his mind’s eye, he could see the moment. Sedge suddenly producing a knife and bringing it toward Tom’s throat, the thunderous explosion as five shots rang out simultaneously. He saw the hole appear in the center of Sedge’s forehead as another blast right in Sedge’s shoulder joint sent the knife flying harmlessly off to the side. Nick and Heath, Peter had known instinctively, one taking the head shot, the other the shoulder. He hadn’t seen the shots that felled the three sailors but he had felt the hands holding him suddenly falling away. Jarrod, Gene, and Barton. Five shots, four men dead.

“Uh-huh, thunder,” Tom nodded his head firmly. “Real loud thunder, Mamma. So loud it made my eyes close and I couldn’t hear anything for a minute. And then I heard Pappa calling to me. He said, ‘Come to Pappa, Tom. Run here, son.’ And I ran to Pappa’s voice without even opening my eyes and he held me so tight. And then there was another loud noise and I looked up and it was Uncle Nick. He had kicked in the door and right behind him was Uncle Heath and Uncle Jarrod and Uncle Gene and Uncle Barton. I knew then me and Pappa was safe. My uncles had comed for us.”

“Yes, they did, chere,” Samantha pressed her lips to her son’s temple but her hand went up to gently ruffle her husband’s hair. Her eyes lifted to look at the circle of family and friends who were gathered around them. Her look lingered on each of her brothers-in-law. They had protected her husband and son. They had saved her family.

A sound in the entry caused Victoria to turn and a wave of relief washed through her body. Gene had arrived with the doctor. Even though Jarrod had assured her that Gene was fine, her motherly concerns weren’t satisfied until she could see her youngest son herself.

Samantha had also noted the arrival of the doctor, “Oh, thank goodness you’re here, Dr. Vanders.”

“You need to check Tom,” Peter said immediately. “He’s had a couple of rough days.”

“No,” Tom vigorously shook his head, “you need to check Pappa. Mean men hit him with a big board.”

Dr. Vanders calmly evaluated the situation and quickly directed, “I think the best thing would be for one of Tom’s uncles to carry him upstairs so that he can take a nice warm bath while I check his pappa over. I’ll take a look at Tom after he has his bath. Gene, you go up with Tom and let me know if there’s any reason I need to check him right away. And, Samantha, why don’t you go with them?”

As she looked from her son to her husband and back, Samantha was obviously torn. She needed to be with both of them. Helplessly she looked up at her mother-in-law, “Victoria?”

And her mother-in-law had regained her composure and control, “You go with Tom, Samantha. You know he’ll want his mamma close. I’ll stay here with Peter and I’ll let you know exactly what the doctor says.”

Obviously relieved, Samantha nodded; but as Heath bent to pick up the small boy from Samantha’s lap, the chief of police spoke for the first time, “Where are the bodies?”

“In a warehouse near East and Washington,” Jarrod replied tersely.

“You realize that there will have to be an inquisition,” the chief said firmly.

Jarrod started to spit back that it could wait until Peter and Tom were both rested and healed, but Judge Samuel Henderson interrupted with his most judicial tone, “No, there will not be. There has just been an inquisition. I’ll speak to Judge Pratt. I’m ruling that it was justifiable homicide. These men were protecting their brother and nephew.”

Peter looked up from where he still knelt on the floor, “Thank you, Samuel.”

“That little boy is not going to have to tell that story ever again,” the judge said coolly, “and I can see to that. Now, Irvin, why don’t we leave this family to take care of its own. Anne and I would be glad to see that you have a late supper if you’d care to walk across the back yard to our home.”

The chief’s eyes flickered around the group and then he nodded, “All right, Sam. I’ll quit coercing this family.”

Anne Henderson added, “Becca, you stay as long as you need and help with the children.”

“We’ll see that she gets home safely, Anne,” Victoria quickly promised.

As the room began to clear, Nick slipped to one side of Peter and Jarrod to the other. “Let’s see if we can get you back up on your feet, squirt,” Nick said as he bent and slipped a strong arm around Peter’s waist and pulled his brother’s arm across his shoulders.

Peter grimaced as he slowly pushed himself to his feet; but when he tried to take a step forward on his right leg, the badly beaten appendage wouldn’t hold him. Only Nick and Jarrod’s steadying arms kept him from going down. “Oh, little brother, you’ve gotten yourself in a hell of a mess, haven’t you,” Nick gently chided.

“None of it matters, Nicky,” Peter smiled at his brother. “We got Tom back; that’s all that matters.”

Dr. Vanders took over now, “All right, Peter, let’s go into your office. You can sit on your desk and I’ll take a look at all your bumps and bruises.”

Peter’s brothers helped him into the other room. After sharing a quick word with his betrothed, Barton caught up the long-forgotten valise filled with money and carried it to Peter’s office. He stored it in the safe behind Peter’s desk and then hesitated for a moment to pat his partner’s shoulder, “I’m going upstairs to sit with Audra. She’s watching Lizzie V. I think she needs a shoulder to shed some happy tears on.”

“Thanks, Bart,” Peter murmured. “Thanks for everything.”

His partner just patted his shoulder again and headed out of the office. Dr. Vanders worked efficiently, quickly isolating Peter’s injuries to a broken rib, a broken collarbone, and a suspected cracked kneecap. He allowed Peter’s brothers to gently ease him out of his clothes while his mother went upstairs to retrieve him some sleeping clothes. His broken rib was wrapped, and his arm strapped to his side to keep the collarbone immobile. For the knee, all the doctor could prescribe was to elevate it and use an ice pack to try to keep the swelling down.

As soon as the doctor finished, he left Peter to the care of his family and hurried upstairs to check on Peter’s son. The little boy had just been lifted out of the bathtub by his Uncle Heath and sat swaddled in towels on his mother’s lap. Dr. Vanders softly asked Gene if there were any signs of injuries but the youngest Barkley brother shook his head. The doctor then gently examined the small boy, allowing him to remain on his mother’s lap. After he used his stethoscope to listen to Tom’s heart and lungs, he pronounced the little boy “perfect.” Samantha slipped a soft nightshirt on her son and then Heath picked the boy up again and the family moved down the hallway toward his bedroom. Barton and Audra stepped out of Lizzie V.’s room and Audra gently kissed her nephew’s cheek. Christiana came down the hallway from Peter and Samantha’s bedroom, cradling a sleeping Jehbbie in her arms, and also kissed Tom. Nick and Jarrod were just getting Peter up the stairs as the group reached the doorway to Tom and Nicky’s room.

“Are you all right, Pappa?” Tom frowned at the bandages visible under his father’s robe.

“Pappa’s going to be just fine,” Peter assured both his son and his obviously concerned wife. “How’s my first mate?”

Tom smiled at the beloved nickname, “I’m all right, Pappa. Just sleepy now.”

“Well, you go have some sweet dreams, son,” Peter kissed his son’s head.

“Need to say my prayers,” the boy’s eyelids fluttered. As Dr. Vanders’ had hoped, the warm bath had lulled the small boy. He was already almost asleep.

Samantha gently kissed her son and whispered, “I think we can skip prayers tonight. We’ll just all say them in our hearts. God will hear us.”

“I prayed, Mamma,” the little boy said softly.

“You did, darling?”

“I prayed real good, Mamma. I must have,” he added proudly. “I prayed that my pappa would come get me. My pappa and maybe one of my uncles. I prayed so good that God sent Pappa and ALL my uncles, even Uncle Barton and he’s not even my real uncle yet.”

“You did pray ‘real good,’ didn’t you, darling,” Samantha hugged him and pressed her face into his blond locks. “Pappa and your uncles did come for you; Pappa and your uncles will always be there to look out for you. Now it’s time to go to bed.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tom murmured.

Heath carried the boy into his bedroom. Becca and Hester were sitting beside the bed watching over the restless Nicky. They moved out of the way so that Samantha could turn back the covers and Heath could slide the drowsy boy into bed. The movement woke Nicky. He roused up and looked over toward Tom’s side of the bed.

“Tom!” Nicky shouted the name and then threw himself onto his brother’s chest. “I missed you.”

Tom wrapped his arm around his brother and mustered a sleepy smile, “I missed you, too, little brother.”

The honest expressions of love brought tears to all those gathered in the room and in the doorway as they watched the two little boys drift off to sleep. Samantha sobbed softly and turned to press her face into her husband’s chest. “Shh,” Peter patted her back with his free arm. “It’s all going to be all right now.”

Nick quickly wiped his own eyes and then gently urged Peter, “Pete, you need to go lie down. We need to get that knee up on a pillow and some ice on it. C’mon, squirt. Let’s get you on down the hall.”

Samantha pushed herself away from her husband’s chest. Once more, she was torn as to where she needed to be, with her injured husband or her child. Again, her mother-in-law came to the rescue, “Samantha, darling, you need to go lie down with Peter. He’s not going to rest well unless you’re there. Gene and I will sit up with Tom. If he calls for you, even in his sleep, I’ll come get you. Barton and Audra will watch over Lizzie. You need to try to sleep some before Jehbbie wakes up to be fed.”

“You’ll come get me if Tom needs me?” Samantha repeated.

“Yes, dear, I promise. Now go try to get a little rest,” her mother-in-law urged. Then she began to direct the rest of the family. “Heath, you need to see that Becca gets across the back yard safely. Please take a moment to tell Samuel and Anne what the doctor said about Peter and Tom. Hester, dear, I know you need to get home to Adam, but will you promise to bring him by tomorrow afternoon to play with Tom and Nicky. It’ll be a good for the boys to get back to their routine. Nick, help get Peter settled in his bed and then please see that Hester gets home safely. Christiana, why don’t you put Jehbbie back in his cradle. You’re welcome to spend the night here, but if you want to go back to your own home, Jarrod will see you home once he helps to get Peter put to bed. Gene, you stay here with Tom and Nicky while I run downstairs and fix an icepack for Peter’s knee.”

As the marching orders were handed out, eyebrows were raised, knowing looks exchanged, and smiles smothered. Mother was back in charge.

Her eyes swept across the group and she teasingly placed her hands on her hips and cocked her head, “Well?”

Jarrod was the first to respond, “Yes, Mother.”

“Yes, Mother,” Nick echoed and tugged on Peter’s arm. “You heard Mother, squirt, let’s get a move on.”

There were more “yes Mother’s” and “yes ma’am’s” as she glided down the hallway to the back stairs. Her heart thrilled at each one. As she started down the stairs, however, she hesitated and did as Samantha had suggested. She said a prayer in her heart, thanking God for bringing all her family safely home tonight.

An unexpected face jumped into her thoughts. Josiah Crowne. They would need to get word to him tomorrow that Tom had been safely returned to his family. No, not returned, taken back . . . by his father and his uncles. She knew instinctively that it would be a long time before anyone would dare to threaten the Barkley family again. The family had stood together and very clearly shown what would happen to anyone who tried to hurt them. Her husband would have been so proud of his family.

She smiled to herself. Josiah Crowne’s hope had come true. This day had, indeed, ended wonderfully for the Barkley family.

THE END